#comes back to tumblr after probably a straight year -> drops a completely random new fandom art -> refuse to elaborate

[aisubekibungou]

hello inscryption fandom

[wirewitchviolet]

Twitter is absolutely dying and that is an unambiguously good thing.

For those who somehow missed it (which I doubt because hey you’re looking at Tumblr again, Elon Musk recently bought Twitter and seems to be doing some kind of speedrun for how quickly he can burn the whole site to the ground and salt the earth so nothing will grow there again. From where I sit it looks like half the userbase has already jumped ship, plus all the advertisers, so, yeah, probably dead by the end of the year. Consequently I’m seeing a ton of people posting various reasons they think this is a great and terrible tragedy and... basically I just want to quickly run down why all of these are wrong and/or deeply selfish.

News

So let’s start with the biggest and most obvious example. People are lamenting how Twitter is such a great way to stay on top of current events and always be informed about everything that’s happening.This is so wildly untrue I want to slap people. Stuff does indeed get shared around twitter super fast, but actual factual useful information kinda never does? Like, nobody ever fact-checks a damn thing, or takes a good look at the source of something. Every day I’m seeing people who should know better because it is literally their job to know better retweeting straight up nazi propaganda from accounts which if you take a look at them for 3 seconds are literally nothing but bigoted hatemongering. People pass around links to news articles, but the article is always A- behind a paywall, and B- given a profoundly misleading headline, frequently saying the exact opposite of what the actual article says, and people will routinely read the headline only, or not even read the headline, just the often disingenuous framing of whoever wrote it. People will form lynch mobs against totally innocent people at the drop of a hat, sometmes because someone is spreading straight up lies, sometimes because a comment about one situation goes viral and the way it’s wording it plausibly fits in another unrelated conversation about a completely different person, or it mentions someone with a similar name to someone else, and everyone starts shooting first and asking questions later.

And that’s not even getting into the way Twitter has completely destroyed the ability of basically every journalist on the site to actually do their jobs anymore. Somehow it became this expectation that if you report the news, you have to live on twitter, scooping up everything getting any buzz as it happens. And also doing your socialization there, and invariably getting swept up in gossip and cattiness and straight up neo-nazi propaganda, and after a while the lines between the three blur away completely for basically everyone. Look how many “news articles” are literally just someone pasting the last 20 tweets on their feed into a template and posting it. Look at how many reporters get into these weird parasocial relationships and sic their followers on people who disagree with their takes on things, or just start hunting people for sport. Hell, look at how basically every single member of the press in England managed to get recruited into a dangerous bloody-minded transphobic cult and literally no longer talk about anything else in any situation. None of these people cover news anymore, they’re just mentally back in high school sharing gossip or worse. Pull the plug for them, kick everyone who’s clearly too far gone to ever come back to the curb, and let’s go back to people actually researching stories, writing something coherent, editing it, fact checking it, and putting it into print.

Friends

A whole lot of people say Twitter is how they keep in touch with all their friends and... again, probably the worst possible way you could do that? Getting Twitter to display posts from everyone you care about instead of whatever random crap it feels like throwing at you is kind of a huge pain in the ass, and even when you go to the trouble it routinely just... drops messages. Like if you do the list feed thing, and eve if you individually load all your friends profiles up one by one, read everything from the past day, and hit reload, you’d be surprised how many things will appear or disappear because the software does not at all reliably fetch everything. And they’ll do weird shadowbans or have netsplits and just blank out entire people, incoming tagged messages only get logged for like a day or two at best, sometimes just a few hours, sometimes never at all. Direct messages are a massive memory leak and bad about showing when there’s updates. Plus you know, personally speaking half the people I know have formally left the site so far. You are far far better off if you keep in touch with everyone you care about through Discord, or Slack, or Skype or IRC or VR Chat or Second Life or really like anything that has ever existed as a means of getting some arbitrary number of people into a shared space that live-updates whatever people type into a feed. Way better archiving too. Or you know, there’s blogs. You’re reading one.

All the Things in One Place

I wish I still had the quote but I saw someone all waxing romantic about how looking at his twitter feed he got live news updates, AND people making dumb jokes, AND getting on the ground POV reports on life in Uganda or whatever, “all in one app.” And... OK so this was just a guy admitting to having a serious social media addiction. Like all the stuff I mentioned above will also give you that variety of info. Just get in a big discord with a lot of friends or on a webforum or something. Or look at youtube now and then. If you’re on the internet in the year 2022, trust me, ALL THE THINGS will be shoved at you constantly, that is in no way unique to Twitter.

Verification

Before this stupid $8 thing, some folks claim, Twitter verification was the clear way to tell if someone really was who they say they are and a way to tell who to take seriously. No, no it really wasn’t. If that were actually true, literally anyone would be able to get the little verified sticker just by proving to the company that they are who they say they are, but what they actually had was an incredibly prejudiced and politicized system where regardless of one’s notoriety, it was exceptionally rare for any woman in any field to get verified, and random nazi propaganda accounts would routinely be granted them. The whole $8 free for all is plainly worse, sure, but it never guaranteed accurate info and was pretty plainly used to marginalize people with some weird arbitrary haves and have nots deal.

I’ve similarly seen people expressing shock at how abuse reports about people posting “kill all the Jews” or whatever have been coming back saying “we reviewed this post and found no violation of the rules” and like... that’s actually what has always happened when you file a report. I guess some people are only just trying it for the first time now, or whoever made sure to actually look at reports from a handful of noteworthy people by hand got fired.

Self-Promotion/Begging

A friend just a little bit ago expressed a concern about how there’s a whole swath of the population whose basic survival depends on people making patreon donations or whatever and Twitter is the only real viable place for rattling the ol’ can. Same boat for freelance artists putting it out there that they’re open for commissions. Her concern was when the site fully goes under, or just from all the people who have already abandoned it, such people won’t be able to make ends meet.

Now, that one is a valid concern. I’m such a person myself, here’s my Patreon. It’s my sole source of income. It’s been my sole source of income for a few years now, and yeah, Twitter is the only place I really plug it. But here’s the thing. Twitter is also the place where malicious scumbags routinely organize efforts to convince anyone who gives money to me to cut me off, where they hunt donors down and harass them, and where they organized all the smear campaigns that burned down all my professional contacts and completely destroyed my ability to ever find actual work again. It’s been on a steady decline for years, and every time I really start desperately begging and get it up a few dollars, another character assassination sends me two steps back. And Twitter’s algorithms down rank any such links to boot. So... honestly as things stand I am going to be living on the street before the end of the year if I don’t have some sort of sudden windfall and I don’t think twitter dying is going to have any particular impact on the speed where that happens. I’m officially out of savings this month, just scraped out what’s left to pay my rent, and my projected donations are $500 short. I’m dead either way, but seriously, the vector for hate outways the vector for begging by far.

So yeah. Watch the whole site burn, watch the scumbag who bought it lose all the money he spent, celebrate, avoid any urge to create some sort of replacement, just go back to forums and chats. You��ll be happier, healthier, and better informed.

Oh and here’s that link again if you want to maybe help me live through the end of the year or whatever.

[platypanthewriter]

Strangest 1: Pandora’s Trunk

Strangest takes place the same night as the climax of season two, after Steve and Billy’s fight and Joyce Byer’s BF died.  (Did Tumblr eat chapters 1-3?  Did I never post them?  I do not know!  I couldn’t find them, so here’s the first!)

It totally made sense that Max would stay with Lucas and Dustin in the blanket fort that was taking over the living area of the Byers house. And of course El and Mike had laid claim to the table, where it looked like they were assembling crowns and helmets, of Will’s design.

Mrs. Byers and Hopper had taken over Adulting, which was a relief, and Steve had ducked out amidst a general explosion of affectionate profanity and hair ruffling. Through the window, he could see them tearing hot chocolate packets open--he watched Mrs. Byers teasing the kids with different mismatched mugs, and cocked his head. He didn’t really fit in there, he thought, in the blanket fort, or in the tense kitchen after the kids retreated to their realm. He definitely didn’t belong wherever Jonathan and Nancy had disappeared to. It made sense for him to leave.

The fog had lifted, and he willed his shoulders to unclench, all the while trying to figure out the closest place to his bed to hide his bat. An evening project to keep him from thinking about his completely empty house. His house was also fine, since he was not injured, or twelve years old, and had working light switches. Logically, it was over. His brain just wasn’t catching up to breaking news.

He sat more heavily against the Camaro, and it thumped back, which provoked an, again, entirely logical windmilling tumble as Steve tried to keep the bat and both eyes pointed at it all the while scrambling away on three limbs. After a moment of eye-burning terror, he recognized the pattern of sound as kicking and a lot of things Max’ brother probably didn’t need to be calling her, and he stood with a nervous spin, yanking his jacket straight.

He took a breath and held it, rolling his shoulders as he looked back at the cheerily lit Byer’s house with every light on, and back to the car bouncing with the booted feet slamming against the inside of the trunk. After several paced circuits of the car, Billy’s voice had stopped threatening. He was laughing, slamming himself around in there, his voice getting higher. Steve scrabbled at his hair, sliding his hands down to cover his face. He really wasn’t sure any kind of logic applied to Billy Hargrove.

If he let Billy out here, he might just run in there and Hopper would have to shoot him, in front of a ton of little shitheads who had barely escaped being eaten by monsters today. If he just...drove him to his house, somebody would eventually let him out, and...would Max let him out?! Steve groaned to himself, long and slow, because if they were anything like Steve’s parents, Billy Hargrove’d be no trouble to anyone ever again, after he died because nobody looked for him and Steve Harrington knowingly left a human being in the trunk of a car. 

Steve took a few deep breaths, idly walking back around to regard the open car window, and the keys on the seat. He looked back at the house for one long hopeful moment, to see Hopper patting Joyce on the back as she threw weak punches into his shoulders, flailing before he caught her against his jacket. They swayed there in silhouette, their shoulders shaking. Steve sighed. He kicked the trunk. The thumping stopped, then exploded again, and Steve banged again.

“Listen,” he started, and the banging stopped, for long enough that Steve thought it would have been better if he had something to say. “I didn’t leave you in there, and I can’t let you out--” the banging started again in earnest, along with a lot of “fuck”s, “bitch”s, and demands about Max--it was a good thing Hopper’d put music on in the house. “Max is fine! She’s inside--I’ll let you out somewhere else, do you want me to take you home, or--” the thumping stopped.

“Where the fuck is that freak, I’ll kill her, I’ll kill you, you fucking--” Steve banged the trunk again, and Billy pounded back, screaming incoherently.

“Mrs. Byers called your house, Max is staying over!” he tried, on the off-chance this could just suddenly turn into a normal, post-monster, partially kidnapped conversation. “I’LL TAKE YOU HOME, THEN,” he said loudly into the seam of the trunk, and Billy started struggling again.

“Max has to go home,” the muffled, furious voice yelled back, pounding and scraping at the inside of the trunk loudly enough that he was probably injuring himself, and Steve thought it was completely unfair the death threats were still audible. “I’ll be back here the second you open this fucking trunk, Harrington, I’ll drag her back by the fucking hair, I’ll tie it to my car, I’ll run over her corpse, I’ll drive through their fucking house--”

Peaceful options exhausted, Steve climbed in the car, leaning his face on the steering wheel as the car shook with Billy’s screaming fury, and took another deep breath. Count on Steve Harrington to forget how to breathe, he thought, only been doing it for sixteen years. Only Steve Harrington wouldn’t have figured it out enough to let it run in the background. By the time they were halfway to Steve’s house, Billy’d stopped yelling. Occasionally there’d be another kick.

By the time Steve pulled in the garage, he was worried enough about exhaust fumes as a new method of involuntary manslaughter he ran right around and banged on the trunk about six times. “Hargrove! William Whatever Hargrove, you answer me, say you’re alive.” He leaned against it, panting, feeling like he’d aged sixty years in body and vocabulary. The trunk thumped back, and Steve slid down to sit against it, reminding himself to breathe, which was apparently something he did now. He’d probably fail his remaining classes, trying to study while remembering to breathe. How would he hold down a job? He’d show up for the interview and have to say “I’m Steve Harrington, and sometimes I forget to breathe.”

The trunk was silent again, and after a while getting his lungs some breathing practice again--maybe they’d take to it--Steve thumped it again. “We’re at my place. If I let you out and call for pizza will you please not kill anyone.” It came out tiredly even.

“What the fuck,” came from the trunk. “Gonna get the police here, tell ‘em I attacked you like a psycho, have your mommy and daddy hold yo--”

Steve banged the heel of his hand on the trunk again. “Nobody else is here. Look, it’s pizza or trunk. We can figure this out in the morning. Promise you won’t do anything to Max.”

The banging in the trunk was taking on a rhythm, and Steve banged over it. “Fucker. Tell me you won’t rat Max out, I’ll let you out.”

Billy began screaming lyrics to his beat, and Steve groaned, letting his head thunk against the trunk, before doing the math on how long Billy’d been in there, and how little he knew about the random syringe Max had shot him up with, and he opened the trunk. Billy’s ankles and wrists were duct-taped together, wedged in, and he swore roundly as he tried to cover his face. “Come on,” Steve sighed, standing to the side where he hoped he was out of range, but reaching over to rip the duct tape off Billy’s ankles. Billy was laughing, inexplicably, holding his arms over his face.

Steve sighed. “Can you walk.”

“Anyway you want, Princess,” Billy giggled.

“Come on,” Steve stood over by the door, arms crossed as he watched Billy kick a bit out the side of the trunk, then get himself rolled sideways. He scrabbled before landing on the cement with a thud, and lay there, laughing harder. It was starting to sound growly again, and Steve rethought his impulse to offer help. “I’m getting pepperoni. With olives.”

When Billy finally staggered in from the garage, Steve had called for the pizza. He turned to see the door slam shut, and Billy slide down it, gnawing at the duct tape around his wrists. His hands were purple.

Steve slammed a few kitchen drawers and stalked over with the carving knife, and Billy went very still, watching him crouch, and allowing him to pull the duct tape close enough to slide the knife up.

When Steve finished slicing, he tossed the knife behind him at random, grabbing one purple hand and rubbing it until it felt like a hand again and not a dissection frog. “Jesus. Max thought you were gonna kill me. And Lucas. Don’t sell her out.”

Billy drew a shaky breath. “And you’re not gonna tell your fancy lawyer dad I broke your face.”

“...my dad’s not a lawyer,” Steve frowned at him, --“Hopper’d probably have locked you up.” He placed the warmed hand on Billy’s knee, and moved on to rub life back into the other one.

“So I behave,” Billy sneered. “Be a good little cunt.”

“Wish the fucking pizza would get here,” Steve muttered, sinking down against the arm of the couch that let him see the whole living room, kitchen, and stairs. When the pizzas arrived, his kidnapping victim shoved by him to drop into that favoured spot on the couch, and Steve sighed.

When morning came, Steve called Max, and she agreed to Billy picking her up for a ride home. After he left, Steve stood in his silent house, getting a little more breathing practise in as his vision started to haze around the edges, thinking of all the things Billy Hargrove wasn’t, like an underground tunneler, or a demogorgon. Billy Hargrove was from Risky Business, not Alien. He was the sweaty “enhanced human” Khan.

Steve forgot about his breathing regimen entirely as he imagined Billy Hargrove in the cast from Grease, and laughed ‘til he choked. Shaking his head, he leaned back against the door, and rubbed his face. All day at school when his brain started to remind him of the previous week, he’d imagine Billy Hargrove as Danny Zuko, shimmying down his Camaro with Tommy behind him trying to carry a tune.

Hopper called that day, to tell him that Mr. Hargrove had called the cops the last two nights on Billy driving around at night, and they’d escorted him home from close to Steve’s house. “In case he ran somebody over drunk. I hear stuff, kid.” The doubt came clearly through his voice. “I don’t know that he’s headin’ for you, but I don’t know that he’s not.” Steve took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, completing the line for himself--maybe keep that bat handy.

“Thanks, Hopper,” he tried the nickname aloud.

Hopper huffed a laugh and hung up.

Billy Hargrove was back at Steve’s house three nights later, serenading under his window. Steve looked longingly at his ski boots, but lifted the sash without projectiles in hand. “What the hell,” he shouted back.

“Lemme in or I’ll tell my dad you offer rides to Max all the time!” Billy yelled up. “Alone!”

Steve, who had gone to an in-class-only new sleeping schedule, suddenly wished his vocal cords could produce the earsplitting rage screeches from Ghostbusters, but let his head thud against the glass in surrender before he went down and unlocked the door. “The fuck do you want, Hargrove,” he squinted up at the moon. “Are you a werewolf, is this where I die.” Later, he’d think, that moment would have been the time to call Hopper.

Billy shouldered him aside as he opened the door, cigarette in hand and reeking of sweat, cologne, beer, and...cooking sherry? It was both reminiscent of and an improvement on Steve’s great-aunt, who usually smelled like baby powder, cat pee, and creme de menthe. Steve’s lungs apparently appreciated it, because they decided to do their job for once without his constantly reminding them. He scrabbled angrily at his hair, before tromping into the kitchen to start making some Folger’s. When the microwave beeped, he stirred in about half the remaining jar of crystals, and went to see why there was no noise happening anywhere.

The couch was covered in Violent Highschool Stranger, under a blanket. Steve dropped into a chair, watching the knee-lumps and elbow-lump stay very still. He wondered whether he’d sleep better upstairs with an unpredictable problem on the couch, and whether suggesting a movie would get his face beaten in--with admirable calm, he thought.

He also thought of not living alone--having a mom like Mrs. Byers, or a sister like Nancy, and imagined what they'd do if they came in and saw he'd brought Billy Hargrove, the guy who almost beat him to death, into his house twice. They'd probably murder him, he thought, and then murder Billy. And then him again--this had to be at least a three-murder event on the Stupidity Scale. Hopper would probably have even more to say. It was a strangely comforting thought, except they weren’t here, and Billy Hargrove was. He didn’t seem to want to break Steve’s nose again, but then he hadn’t given that much warning the first time, either.

Between Steve’s new not-sleeping regime and thinking about the Byer’s ceiling, map taped everywhere, Billy’s fists hitting his face, the world had just started to tilt a bit when the blanket said “Take a picture, Princess, you can jack off to it at night,” and Steve lifted his coffee stew and breathed in the smell.

“What didja think I did with that blanket,” he tried, and watched it get flung as Billy scrambled as far from it as possible, thudding onto his back off the side of the couch, and Steve realized he was laughing again, wheezing with his hand against his face. When he finally looked up, Billy was brushing himself off, straightening his jacket, and Steve imagined the look on his own face after his trunk had thumped back. “Nah, I didn’t.” He patted his lip where the grin had stretched it, glancing down to check for blood. “Much.” When Billy’s hackles raised further, Steve shouted over his rising glower. “How about Star Wars?”

“Hell is wrong with you,” Billy muttered, but settled in the corner of the couch, apparently waiting for Steve to set up the movie. By the time C-3P0 was trying to get to Obi-Wan, Billy’d passed out against the arm, his boots tucked up between the cushions. The smell of cooking sherry intensified, and the glint Steve noticed against the black leather and laces proved to be a hunk of broken glass. There was more in the boot treads, and he could see a couple very small pieces caught in Billy’s shirt and hair. It was hard not to imagine the bank-robbing explosion Billy Hargrove would be walking away from, but his car was parked right out front, hard to miss, if the cops were looking for him. Steve had never seen a SWAT team. Count on them to miss out on actual monsters and chase Billy Hargrove to his house, he thought, indignantly sleepy, and shivered awake hours later, to fogging breath and the white noise of the TV. He groaned, leaning forward to flap one arm at the remote, and switched off the TV. In the dark, he realized the slight rasp of Billy’s breathing had stopped.

“...don’t die on my couch,” he mumbled, frowning into the darkness, which remained dark, but the normal, fridge-humming kind of dark, not the strange blue fluttering darkness where Dustin had screamed. He breathed in stale cigarette smoke and cooking sherry.

Billy snorted. “Just for you.”

He was back in the safer kind of movie, again, Steve thought muzzily, kids having sleepovers. There were movies where killers interrupted sleepovers, but they were humans, not monsters, and anyway he was not actually having a slumber party with Billy Hargrove: Probable Bank Robber. He felt around next to the couch for the blanket, and pulled it clumsily over them. It occurred to him he hadn’t actually asked. “Sooooo...you rob a bank?” he tried, keeping it casual.

“Sure did,” Billy scoffed, “--shot four guys, too. And there’s a stolen police car out there.”

“Oh, it’s that kind of movie.” Steve squirmed down against the back of the couch, letting his head fall against his arms in the safe darkness. The blanket fell over his face.

“You’re not going to call the cops and tell them you’ve got a bank robber?” Billy kicked him, and Steve batted weakly at his foot, eyes sliding shut again.

“Watch it, you--broken glass...shoe.”

He woke to the fading smell of cooking sherry, and blinked slowly at the ceiling, the sudden deep sleep disorienting after he’d thought he’d never sleep again outside of Biology class. “...wha--um,” he muttered, scrambling to look around. There was no sign of his home invader. He wondered how many murders “falling asleep with Billy ‘bank punching’ Hargrove a foot away” rated on the Idiot Scale, he had to be up to, oh, at least four. He felt a weird temptation to ask Nancy before first period. He fiddled with his locker, considering it. The line between her brows deepened, and probably became downright thunderous as he grinned awkwardly at she and Jonathan, turned on his heel, and walked off.

That day after basketball, in the showers, Tommy guffawed at the hand-shaped bruises on Billy’s upper arms. “Where were you last night? All night long, huh?” He leered, shifted to making long groans and grunting noises, and before Steve could catch himself, words fell out of his mouth.

“Those are huge, though, is your girlfriend Sylvester Stallone or--” he yelped as Billy shoved him against the wall, grin manic.

“What you trying to say, pretty boy King Steve?”

“I think he’s calling you a--” Tommy smacked the wall and showerhead on his way to the floor as Billy shoved his face. “A fucking faggot,” he yelled triumphantly, from the floor, as Steve wondered why he was allowed to open his mouth, ever, at all, and Billy tried to swing around and punch him and almost fell on his ass.

“It was my fucking dad, okay, it’s no big deal. My dad,” Billy was screaming between them, as they both dodged around, until the teacher and half the class shoved their way in and pulled him away. Steve fled. He dressed wondering how many more deserved Stupidity Murders he’d earned, getting in the communal shower with the guy who’d beaten his face in, and then opening his dumb fuckhead mouth and suggesting he’d had sex with Rambo. Nancy was in the hall listening to Billy yelling inside, when Steve ducked out of the locker room with his pants on but half his head still soapy, and she helped him rinse his hair in the drinking fountain.

“I think you and Hopper and Jonathan’s mom need to murder me about eleven times,” he told her, laughing, as he wiped water from his eyes. “I think I just asked Hargrove if he was gay, in the shower.” Her mouth fell open.

“Uh,” her eyebrows drew together as she looked at the locker room, but her mouth quirked, “--should we be running, then?”

“I probably should carry my bat,” he laughed, feeling around his ears one more time for soap, then grimacing and digging around in his bag for a sweaty gym shirt to rub on his head. When he pulled it out, she looked even more disgusted than he felt.

“I’ve got dry clothes in my locker. You can at least use a clean shirt.” She stuck her tongue out, trotting confidently off. “Bleah.”

Steve’s unfriendly neighborhood home invader didn’t reappear for over a week, but falling asleep to movies apparently worked, so he re-watched the beginnings of Rambo, Tron, and The Last Unicorn, discovered he could not fall asleep to Monty Python, and bought a much larger jar of Folger’s for mornings when even the dulcet tones of Winnie the Pooh hadn’t let his lungs work through the night without reminder.

The next time Billy showed up he just banged on the door, startling Steve out of the haze he’d fallen into during a Secret of NIMH song. Steve groaned, flapped unproductively at the remote to stop the animated mice, and then stumbled to his feet to make the door-abuse stop. The pounding continued through his shouted “I’m coming! I’m coming! ” until Billy Hargrove nearly fell in on top of him, half naked, and began hopping into the other half of his jeans.

“...what the hell.” Steve stared.

“What is that noise.” Billy scrambled to pull his jacket on, shivering, and nearly elbowed Steve in the face.

“...uh, it’s, um, mice?” Steve blinked at Billy’s face, which looked like it needed some frozen peas. “Uh. Lemme get you some frozen peas.” Billy tried to slam by him as usual, but Steve wasn’t good at basketball for nothing, and slid by the predictable motion on the way to the freezer. He tossed over the peas, proudly not adding to his Stupidity Gauge by getting within five feet of the half-naked feral in his kitchen. It seemed unlikely Billy had accused anyone of having sex with Sylvester Stallone in a communal shower, but the parallels to his Eleven On The Stupidity Murder Scale day were hard to discount. The shiner he was sporting looked exactly like Steve would have gotten if he hadn't escaped to the hallway. Focus, he thought.

“Make me some of that coffee,” Billy was shivering, glaring at the peas. If he’d been anyone else, Steve would have teasingly explained how to press frozen peas against a black eye, but given their last interaction, he just let his lips thin.

“Hot chocolate? I’ve got marshmallows.”

The furious disbelief Billy had focused on the peas turned to Steve’s face, amplified. “Did you just offer me marshmallows.”

“I have some,” Steve sighed, taking down his blue mug, and one that said Happy Anniversary. After a pause, he returned the anniversary mug to the cupboard, and grabbed one with a robin on it, filled them both with water, and stuck the robin in the microwave.

“Marshmallows.”

“Look, if you don’t like marshmallows, don’t eat any.” He pulled out the bag, the Swiss Miss, and the instant coffee.

“Rainbow marshmallows,” Billy observed scornfully. “You’re girlier than Max.”

“Everyone’s girlier than Max, except Hopper and Mrs. Byers,” Steve sighed. “Coffee or chocolate. I mix them sometimes.”

“You rebel,” Billy snorted. “Gimme some marshmallows. You call the Sheriff ‘Hopper’?” He held out a hand, finally lifting the other to his face, and wincing as he placed the peas against the swelling bruise. Steve had seen enough marshmallow bags absconded with to just drop some in the outstretched hand, the bag protectively at his side. He watched Billy start to drop the whole handful in his mouth, wince as he tried to open his mouth wide, and begin eating one at a time. “...kinda got to know him. Me and El and the, y’know,” he held his hand at waist level, picturing Dustin’s indignant protest, “Muppet babies.”

“Yeah, how’d that happen?”

Steve reminded himself to breathe. “Barb died. Bob died. You should be careful, you’ve got half the ‘b’s in your name.” He turned away as the microwave beeped.

“What.” Billy’s eyes narrowed.

“Is it raining?” Steve asked. “Why are you all wet?”

“Fuck off,” Billy said around his mouthful of marshmallows, and Steve shrugged, presenting the steaming mug, a spoon, the box of chocolate mix, and the Folger’s.

“I give you the bird,” he said grandly, tossing his mug in the microwave. Billy snorted, dumping three chocolate packets in the mug, and making grabby hands for the marshmallows.

Steve surrendered the bag, leaning against the counter by the microwave. He watched Billy wipe the water away that was trickling down his neck, and try to pretend he wasn’t shaking, dripping wet, in November. Steve stomped off for a towel, returning to throw it to Billy just before the microwave beeped. “Gimme back those girly marshmallows,” Steve began dumping powders in his mug, stirring industriously, before topping it with a pile of rainbow.

Billy stalked off to take Steve’s spot on the couch, before sliding off to flip through the laserdiscs. “Gonna punch these mice,” he muttered, lifting one, and flipped it to read the back. "You have movies for grownups? Whaddaya do when there aren't, like, singing frogs, you just fall asleep or--?"

"Oh no, not that one," Steve breathed, horrified. "That's Nancy's, it gave me nightmares."

"...IRA bombers?" Billy frowned up incredulously.

"No! It's a romance, it's awful, the guy falls in love with the girl and she has a dick and she thought he KNEW--"

"What," Billy's voice had gone flat.

"That night I dreamt I was in bed with Nancy for the first time and she took my clothes off and I was dickless with a secret pussy--"

"Everyone knows that, Harrington--"

"Shut your face, it was horrible, she just kept patting my hand sadly and she's a problem solver, you know, she kept going to the kitchen and getting, like, a banana, and the pepper grinder--"

The laserdisc sleeve drummed softly at Billy's head as he shook with laughter.

"And she just looked more and more disappointed and finally she said she had to leave, she couldn't cope with a relationship where she had to satisfy herself with a garlic press, and she was sure I'd be happier moving on--" Steve had been laughing too, at the image of Nancy earnestly presenting him with carnally unsatisfactory kitchen gadgets, but he sighed, rubbing his face. "Usually when I dreamed she'd dump me it was because I was invisible, or she was the president and she caught me setting up a kegstand in the--"

"I'm gonna call you 'Secret Pussy' forever," Billy interrupted.

"You will the hell not--"

"What?!" Billy laughed harder.

"I'm not a secret pussy, I'm secretly Kurt Russell, all my..." he slid further down in the couch, curling around his snickers, "--ten out of ten trick-or-treaters agree."

"You telling me you're half-blind, because it'd explain--" The doorbell rang, over and over, like a blaring red alert, along with voices and the thump of bicycles against the side of the house, and Steve scrambled up to reach the entryway before Dustin, Mike, and Will all fell in at once. "We need hot chocolate," Dustin said confidently, and Steve grimaced, thinking fast, before inwardly throwing his hands up and outwardly yelling "BILLY! Put on the kettle for hot chocolate!"

Silence fell, all three kids going still, but after a few seconds the couch creaked, and Billy walked into the kitchen, and the sink turned on.

“Is he holding you hostage,” Dustin whispered, eyes wide as he leaned around Steve’s shoulders.

“He’s probably eating marshmallows.” Steve raised his eyebrows at them, wondering whether it was stupid or just evil to allow the kids around Billy, who’d settled in, in a weird way, but also probably bit occasionally. Unprompted. He didn’t want any of his stupidity murders to be because someone got actually murdered.

“Will came for a sleepover,” Mike reported, glancing into the kitchen warily. “And we were gaming, and it was fine, but then there was a short in the kitchen and sparks and--”

Will sniffled, rubbing his eyes with his sleeve. “I can’t call my mom,” he rolled his thin shoulders back, firming his chin as he looked up at Steve, “--she’ll never let me out again--”

“He started crying all crazy,” Dustin put in, ever helpful, to a general elbowing, “--and I said, Steve has hot chocolate, and a bat.”

“...ah,” Steve glanced at the kitchen. “Did you guys let her know you were coming here? So she doesn’t call and find you guys--”

“We called,” Mike laughed apologetically. “We said you invited us over.”

Billy tromped back out to the living room, presumably to sneer at singing mice, as Steve herded the tiny assholes towards hot chocolate.

“Why is he here,” Dustin whispered, very loudly, with his usual degree of subtlety. Mike and Will nodded, and Steve laughed, rubbing his face.

“It’s fine, we have classes together, he’s not going to do anything,” he tried weakly, and Will’s eyes narrowed.

“Do you need a distraction while we phone Hopper?” he asked softly under the noise of Steve getting more mugs and batting Dustin away from stress-eating all the marshmallows.

“Dustin could get your bat,” Mike suggested.

“Thanks, man, send Dustin out there,” Dustin sighed loudly.

“Dustin, get more marshmallows out of the garage,” Steve pointed, trying to channel Nancy’s no-nonsense tones. He flipped off the stove, opting for the hot chocolate prep that kept them all in the kitchen for a longer time. “Will, fill these up and microwave them one by one for two and a half minutes. Mike--” he glanced around, “--get spoons and see if there’s still whipped cream in the fridge.”

They slowly moved to obey, watching him closely as he began rifling the cupboard for candy canes. Steve vindictively didn’t point out the spoon drawer to Mike. It was one thing, he thought, expecting his stupidity assessments from Hopper or Nancy, but he was not having it from children that did things like try to raise demodogs in turtle cages.

Billy had settled in Steve's spot on the couch, as always--Steve rolled his eyes--and Steve headed for the other end, before noticing the kids standing in strained poses like awkward chainsaw art. "Ugh," Steve sighed, before dropping next to Billy, whose shoulders hunched around his hot chocolate.

"Okay, Will, you pick," he pointed.

"Pick this, Will," Dustin held up the animated Lord of the Rings.

"Shut up, Dustin," Mike threw a pillow at him, and Will yelped, dodging aside, before grabbing it and swiping Dustin.

Steve grinned. “I found the candy canes,” he told Billy, who turned another disbelieving look on him, as Will smacked Mike with a pillow, and it turned into a free-for-all between the three of them until Dustin crawled under the melee and put on The Hobbit. As soon as it loaded up, he plonked himself down next to Steve. Will sat cautiously next to him, and Mike dropped at the end, the quieter two studying their chocolate as Dustin elbowed Steve.

“Man, I been wanting to watch these without Lucas, he hates Return of the King--”

Mike grimaced over towards Billy at the sound of Lucas’ name. “Well, it is kinda silly. It’s for little kids.”

“It’s for Steve. He has to have the singing in there,” Billy put in, and Dustin leaned around to stare at him.

“You’re another reason I’m glad Lucas ain’t here, man, you a Nazi or what?”

“Neo Nazi,” Mike corrected quietly. “They’re called Neo Nazis, it’s not 1945--”

“Look, it’s Hobbiton,” Steve sighed into his mug.

“Or the Ku Klux Klan,” Will put in, “Like in the South.”

"No," Billy said finally, and after several seconds Dustin laughed.

"No?! No, you just slammed him into a wall? No, you just told Max to stay away from his kind?"

"I didn't say that."

Steve could feel Billy's entire body going tense, and shut his eyes, breathing in the blended chocolate, coffee, and candy cane smells from his mug. Twelve murders worth of stupidity, today, he thought, wondering whether he'd make it to the phone, and whether one of the kids would save him with the bat, and whether any of his Idiocy Tally would hit them, in a permanent sense.

"Why'd you beat him up, then?" Mike asked pointedly. Eleven's boyfriend felt no physical fear, apparently. Reasonable, if Eleven were actually present.

“Okay,” Steve tried to think of what Mrs. Byers would say, “--uh, whatever reasons he had, they weren’t good enough, can we all say ‘aye’ on that one?”

“Aye! ” proclaimed Dustin and Mike in a shout, Will firmly, and, thankfully, Billy, sounding a little rough.

“And unless he does it again, it’s between he, Lucas, and Max?” Steve continued, pushing his luck.

“Aaaaye,” came the sullen chorus from Steve’s right, and a fervent “Aye,” in low tones from Billy.

Steve sat back, wide-eyed, as his heart slowly stopped pounding. An hour later, his head was draped back over the couch as he snored softly, and Mike had quietly left and returned to drop the bat full of nails across the coffee table. Dustin pointed at it, speaking in his louder-than-speech stage whisper.

“That’s Steve’s bat. Look, it’s got blood on it. That’s bully blood.” He grabbed it and pointed it at Billy, who slammed his elbow into Steve.

“Harrington. Harrington. Is that blood on that bat.” Steve tried to roll sideways, growling, but Billy elbowed him in his chest, this time. “Harrington. Did you kill someone.” He glared around. “Did you guys cover up a murder?”

(I think Tumblr ate my posts for chapters 1-3, so I’m reposting them!)

Strangest chapter 1/chapter 2/chapter 3/chapter 4/chapter 5/chapter 6/chapter 7/chapter 8/chapter 9/chapter 10/  But really I’d recommend reading it on Ao3 under peterqpan, scrolling through it on Tumblr sounds crazymaking

[be-dazzled]

#SIYC

Gray Fullbuster, Juvia Lockser FFnet: click here Tumblr: explore here Genre: Multi-chapter, Romance, Comedy Rating: M for sensitive content and language

Summary: Gray Fullbuster is a player both in love and in life. He plays Professional Basketball and is being groomed to be in line with Basketball Legends Michael Jordan, Lebron James, Kobe Bryant and Stephen Curry. There's just one problem, Gray Fullbuster is a play-ah. His life is a giant mess of crazy parties, waking up with random women and waking up in random women's apartments. Just living the life.

The opinion of the public on him is waning. To save the million-dollar endorsements in the verge of disappearing, Gray needs to change his image. Therefore, Gray Fullbuster, Fiore Knight's Team Captain and Most Valuable Player, will be in the next season of "My Star Can Dance".

There's another problem: it seems like his star isn't that bright since his partner, one of Fiore's prominent ballerinas, doesn't know him? His billboard is hanging in front of her dancing school! And it was a good billboard since all he was wearing was his six-pack and an Aztec bandana. How come she didn't notice?

…

Speak to me, read my mind Fill your mouth, with flesh and wine And I'll be yours, just give me time 'Cause you have everything I could ever want You have everything I could ever want You speak to my soul like you've known it before And I just can't stop Lord I can't stop, myself

– Can't Stop, Mozella

…

The closed door muffled the loud screams coming from the other side of it. With every chant and every scream, Juvia's heart thundered. How long had it been since she performed in front of an audience? She couldn't remember. Acid settled in the pit of the ballerina's stomach. The thundering claps and cheers were not helping. In fact, they made the acid chew its way upwards.

Nerves were a performer's greatest enemy.

The knock on the door yanked Juvia's attention toward the single wood. A young man in a bull cap, black shirt and a mic in front of his lips peeked through the small opening.

"Miss Juvia, we're going live in thirty minutes. Please, prepare."

Juvia muttered thanks.

The young man was kind and sweet. Juvia could not remember ever seeing him around. He was probably a new recruit.

When the door clicked closed, Juvia abandoned the thought on the new guy and returned her attention to the vanity mirror. She watched her make-up artist, Cana, paint her lips with light lipstick that complimented her golden brown eyeshadow. Then, Cana sprayed the Treseme Stronghold around her blue bun to secure all the strands.

"All done!" Cana proclaimed. Then, she replaced her make-up tools inside a vanity box before she took a loud sip out of her Starbucks to-go cup.

The show's assistant scriptwriter, and Juvia's High School best-friend, walked up behind her, admiring Juvia's beauty in the mirror.

"You look so pretty, Juvs. I'm sure the camera's gonna love you."

"Thank you, Levy." Juvia gave her a strained smile. Baring herself to Levy, Juvia allowed her worries to show.

Levy opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by a subtle knock on the door. A familiar shock of raven hair popped into the opening before any of the three ladies could say come in. Of course, they need not to because after Gray Fullbuster said hey, he invited himself in.

Juvia did not turn around to greet him. Instead, she met Gray's dark, awed eyes in the mirror.

"Wow, you look beautiful." The compliment escaped his lips breathlessly.

Levy excused herself, using setting-up early as the reason. The truth was, the show-writer wanted to leave the two alone. Such fact Juvia knew. She mouthed her friend a thank you; grateful when the latter dragged with her an insistent Cana who wanted to take a photo with Gray.

Juvia watched Gray as he walked up behind her, slow and dazed. But as awe-struck as he was with her, Juvia was the same. She couldn't take his eyes off Gray. His raven hair brushed back, made sultry by stubborn fringes falling off the wagon. With his hair away from his face, Gray's classic features came to prominence: high cheek bones and well-defined jawline.

Blue perusing eyes travelled down his neck to the bare skin teasing through the gap of Gray's polo shirt where one, two, three studs remained unbuttoned. Juvia caught her breath. The feel of his hard chest teased at her fingertips.

"Hey, you really look beautiful." He whispered, the rich baritone cutting through her thoughts. The heat of his hands settled on her shoulders, yanking her back to reality.

Gray Fullbuster in an unkempt brushed-back 'do might be a good distraction but the unsettling feeling, just like the plague, just wouldn't go away.

Wearing her heart on her sleeves, Juvia turned around her chair and looked Gray straight in the eyes, voicing her fear for the first time.

"What if I screw up?"

"You won't. You know why?"

Juvia waited for a good moment for his next words. Her heart ready to pop out her chest.

"Because you are Juvia Lockser. And Juvia Lockser never screws up. That's my job."

The confidence in his statement made Juvia almost believe it. She was able to appreciate his punchline too. But there was a little voice the ballerina could not ignore. A little voice saying maybe, maybe Gray was wrong.

"Yeah right." She rolled her eyes, turning her attention back to her reflection in the mirror. "There's a first time for everything."

Juvia was skeptical. She wasn't a pessimist neither was she a ball of sunshine. Juvia liked managing her expectations; less disappointments.

"Juvia." Gray called; his voice taming. He cupped Juvia's face, offering warmth with his open palms. "She is going to love you."

The old Juvia would have been surprised. Here was a stranger she's known not quite long, yet so attuned to Juvia's own feelings. Maybe, it was because she finally tore her own walls down for him.

"So, just relax." He suggested.

Juvia caught Gray's wrists in each hand and wrapped her fingers around them. She didn't push them away, liking how his palms felt against her skin.

"Breathe in, breathe out."

Her eyes shut close, rubbing her cheeks against Gray's palms. His words were so powerful that she was able to push the anxiety at the back of her mind which, she hoped, wouldn't make reappearance. Not until after their performance.

"We're going to kill this performance. Okay?"

Juvia nodded, resting her forehead against Gray's. All the uneasiness was melting away and she had this man to thank for that. Juvia trusted him, came to trust Gray completely and she didn't even know how or why. Even if the Hoopster acted like a five-year old on a sugar rush sometimes, there were moments, moments like this one, when Gray made her feel safe; like she could trust him; like she could rely on him. He got her back – one hundred percent.

"Besides…" Juvia felt Gray's hot breath fan her cheeks. "You could always imagine me in that audience…" He lowered his voice a fraction before finishing. "naked."

Then there were those other moments when she wanted to slap his spirit out of him.

Juvia sighed. His last comment forced her eyes open. She slapped his hands away and returned to the mirror. That wasn't how the saying goes.

"You're not helping."

Juvia checked her hair in the mirror to make sure they still held together. She eyed the man laughing behind her. Instead of getting mad at him; Juvia could not help the smile pulling on her lips. Gray Fullbuster could easily put her mind out of anything, whether by his lame jokes or using those lips for something more useful. Like kissing. That's another thing Juvia grown to like about Gray, aside from kissing, he could always turn things around.

"Besides, I should be the one getting nervous here." Gray confessed. "It's my first time and I feel this weird fluttering in my stomach." The admission and the realization of what the fluttering was for repulsed him.

He looked cute, Juvia thought. Cute but still repulsed.

Juvia studied him for a second. The lines on his forehead and the troubled expression proved his words genuine. The overly confident Hoopster climbed down his high horse. Seeing how Gray reacted to his own pre-show tension, Juvia sat there thinking that beating herself up for getting all nervous and worried was crazy. Performance jitters were perfectly normal, human even.

Juvia climbed down her chair, acting nonchalant about Gray's sudden confession. She then spun around to face him, leaned in and drop a volume as she spoke. "You know what a good distraction is?"

She almost broke out of character when the sudden proximity stunned the overly confident Hoopster.

"Wh-what?" Gray stuttered, his face clouded as he felt her hot breath against his flushed lobe.

"You could always imagine me in the audience, naked."

Juvia walked past him and left a wide-eyed Gray, who seemed to forget how to breathe, in her wake.

"Don't say that!"

She heard him complain after a long drawn-in breath.

"You know I can't get that image out of my head now."

Men really didn't like having a taste of their own medicine. But at least, it kept Gray's mind off the jitters.

...

Romeo, the young man from earlier, instructed the duo to prepare at the backstage. Gray and Juvia were the first to perform. At the holding area, Juvia could hear the host warming up the audience. The lively ruckus was waking up the uneasiness. Juvia easily pushed it back by remembering Gray's words earlier: the how they were going to 'kill the performance' and not the 'imagine him naked in the audience' nonsense.

After the host called out Gray and Juvia's names, silence covered the whole studio. Juvia listened for the cue. She threw her partner one last look, finding the fire in Gray's midnight eyes ablaze. From that moment she knew, the performance was in the bag, no doubt about it.

The first beat of their music poured through the studio's speakers. Then the spotlight was on the pair at the center of the stage. Juvia fixed her eyes on one person – the man carrying her through the routine. The whole world fell away and Juvia drowned in the music, the sway of their bodies and in Gray's midnight eyes.

Juvia's heart thumped along the thundering claps their dance received from the audience. A warm feeling swelled in her chest and the moment she saw the proud smile on her partner's lips, the warm feeling spread like wildfire throughout her body. The catch in her breath wasn't only because of the laborious routine.

Juvia could barely make out what the host had to say through the explosion of cheers. All she knew was that Jenny Realight had such an authority on stage that the audience settled down the moment she spoke. Jenny congratulated the couple on a great performance, slipping her own compliment in.

"That was one sizzling performance, don't you think?" Magnolia Weekly's resident model-turned-host addressed the question to the energetic audience. "I think you burned a hole on the ground."

The couple answered with mutual mirth; their arms were around each other.

"I'm feeling like there is somethin'-somethin' going around here." Jenny teased as she noticed the closeness between the two. "Care to share, Mr. Hotshot?" The host placed the mic next to Gray's lips, hoping for an honest and interesting answer from him.

"The only something I'm going to get tonight is a bad case of the cold. What, with my chest bare open and everything."

Ever the crowd-charmer, Gray's knack for a punchline earned a subtle laugh from the studio audience.

"Someone's a bit too showbiz." Jenny jokingly called Gray out for his evasiveness but she was running on a tight schedule. So, Jenny let them off the hook, for now. "We will get back to that. Now, let's hear from our judges."

The two judges only had good things to say about the performance. One of the female judges purred a 'muy caliente' and even feigned fanning herself to exaggerate her point. The lone male critic thanked Gray, riding on the Hoopster's joke about having to bare his chest on national television for the ratings.

"My pleasure." Gray answered, flashing his trademark wink that got all the female fans buzzing; some males too.

But the opinion that Juvia waited for and the one which mattered the most for her was from the dancer who was recently awarded the Prima Ballerina Assoluta – highest honor conferred to a ballerina.

When the spotlight was finally on Aquarius as it was her time to speak, Juvia could feel her knees wobble. Good thing she had Hoopster for support.

"Well, it's nice to see you managed to keep up with a great ballerina, Mr. Fullbuster." Aquarius began. She had that air and grace about her that intimidated. The form of her every move and sway like dancing were flawless perfection. "Do you have any background in dancing?"

"If you count my one-man show performance in the shower, then yes."

Juvia ought to feel embarrassed on Gray's behalf but she didn't. Gray Fullbuster could work a room with his quirky quips and that was one of his many charms.

"Is he always this funny, Ms. Lockser?"

Juvia's heart leaped when Aquarius started to address her.

"He tries." She answered, trying on the funny pants herself. Even got really excited when her dance hero chuckled at Juvia's joke.

Aquarius paused long enough to let the audience have a good laugh before she started talking technicalities.

"You were able to pull it off even without," Aquarius withdraw her eyes from her notes and looked at Gray. "I'm not counting shower performances as background." She interjected with a playful smile before continuing, "even without background in ballet."

Aquarius praised Juvia for adapting the routine to Gray's skills. The excitement escalated with every compliment thrown Juvia's way and she thought she saw stars when her dance hero said they did a great job.

"And I don't think I'm the only one here who thinks that your chemistry is off the charts!" Aquarius turned around without getting off her judge's seat. "Am I right?" She offered her microphone to the audience.

The response was deafening. Only the blind could not see the heat between Gray and Juvia.

...

The live shows were finally over but Juvia was still on cloud nine and there was no sign of her climbing down from it anytime soon. She couldn't believe how her life turned out: she met her childhood dance hero and even received high praises from her. Then there was Gray, the man who rose to the occasion magnificently.

Juvia peered at the man seated beside her and caught the Hoopster staring at her too. She recognized the glint in his dark blue eyes because she knew she had it in hers too. He reached for her hand under the table and gave it a little squeeze. Juvia returned his loving smile and leaned in when Gray motioned her to. Her skin set fire at the feel of his warm lips brushing against her lobe. He just said something funny and Juvia had to stifle the giggle that threatened to erupt. The show-creator was giving his thank-you speech and she did not want any of the attention. She liked the fact that both she and Gray were happy in their own little world. Juvia would like to keep it that way for a little while.

As the speech came to a close, Juvia raised her glass along with the contestants, the staff and everyone involved in the show. She clanked glasses with Gray and shared a knowing smile. A short bluenette slid into the vacant chair next to Juvia and she regrettably retrieved her hand from Gray's hold. She didn't have to look to know it was Levy whose brown eyes brimmed with excitement.

"He's right, you know." She started then phished out her phone to show Juvia, who was just about to take a spoonful of chicken pecan. "Look, the show's trending on twitter!" Levy exclaimed but apologized quickly when people started throwing judging looks at their table.

Levy returned to her conversation with Juvia, showing the twitter page on her mobile. Juvia was just reading the top page when Gray's hand suddenly grabbed Levy's phone. Bunhead did not fight him over it. After all, she wasn't that all interested.

"It's true! We're trending no. 1 worldwide."

Gray kept scrolling and started reading the tweets. He forgot all about the sumptuous meal right in front of him.

"Wow, you are ironheart143?" Gray passingly read Levy's twitter username which, hearing it aloud, the scriptwriter realized was quite embarrassing.

"Look, this one says 'Gray Fullbuster is God-sent. I'll let him drive me to heaven.'". Gray read a little too proudly for Juvia's liking. The corners of his mouth pulled in a smug. He read another one saying how frockmehard would like Gray to Full her Buster.

Juvia cringed internally. What did that even mean, to 'Full my Buster'?

"Oh! Here's another one. 'I am just as flexible. I'd wrap both legs around Gray's neck… and I'm going to read that to myself." He stopped the moment Juvia sent him the death glare and decided it was better for him and his blooming relationship to return the phone to the owner.

"Hey, there are tweets about Juvia too." Levy began reading mentions about Juvia. Aloud at first, thinking they were innocent until she realized, as she went through them, that people on the internet could get really dirty and detailed.

"Okay. I just lost my appetite."

Gray set his utensils on the table and refused to take another bite, pushing the plate at the center. The tweets just left a bad taste in his mouth.

"Oh! Some fans are also discussing how good your chemistry is."

"Let me see."

"Hey!" Levy pouted but she was no match against Gray's athletic reflexes. She crossed her arms as the phone-grabber scrolled through the tweets.

"Wow, we should really get a couple-name." Gray suggested without taking his eyes off the screen.

"Couple name?"

"That's right!" It was the scriptwriter who answered instead, stealing the opportunity from Gray. "Like Brangelina, Bennifer or Kimye. Yours could be…" She gave it a serious thought before excitedly announcing what she came up with.

"Oh, I know! JuGra!"

Juvia hissed in a little disagreement. "I don't know, Levy." She wanted to support her friend, especially that the scriptwriter looked really, really enthusiastic about this couple-name thing. But 'JuGra' did not sound right in her ears. "I don't think this couple name–"

"–that or it could be JuRay." Gray offered, finally lifting his eyes off the screen and fixing them on Juvia.

JuRay did not sound so bad but Juvia could tell Gray wasn't stopping there. In his eyes, she could see the gears turning.

"FulLockser? Too long. My last name's too long." Gray frowned at the inconvenience of his surname.

"ViaGra?"

"You don't want people calling us ViaGra, Gray."

"ViaGray? That way it won't sound too…"

"Actually, the people have already baptized you." Levy interrupted before the talk about ViaGra took them somewhere she'd rather not go into. "They're calling your loveteam Gruvia."

"Gruvia?" Gray thought about it and let the coined word roll off his tongue once more, testing how it sounded. "Gruvia. I like it."

Juvia expressed her agreement with a content smile that mirrored Gray's.

"Sounds better than ViaGra too." Gray mused. He seemed to enjoy that silly one though.

...

Right after dinner, after the Gruvia couple, as their fans fondly called them, said their goodbyes, Gray offered Juvia a ride. They didn't mind the others seeing them leave the party together. It wasn't the first time Gray drove the ballerina home. But they fought the need to feel each other's warmth until they got inside Gray's Camaro.

In the car, they fondly talked about the live shows. Gray even made fun of the Kendo champion with the scarlet hair.

"I pity his partner but I guess she wasn't called the Dancing Demon for nothing."

"Oh, if Erza could hear you."

Juvia thought she saw fear cross Gray's face at the mention of the swordswoman's name. She confirmed it when the other half of Gruvia cleared his throat and quickly changed the subject.

"How about the wrestler, Elfman? He invited me to watch one of his games. I don't think I'd like to watch men in their undies battling it out in the ring."

"Let me guess, you prefer women in their undies battling it out in the ring."

"Aw." Gray playfully swooned. "You know me so well."

"Ha. Ha." Juvia rolled her eyes again, laughed without humor.

As the ballerina listened in the passenger seat, she couldn't help but muse at the turn of events. She used to hate this man's guts. The basketball diva who pranced into her studio, challenging her patience every chance he got, was now at the driver's seat having a decent conversation with her like most old couples did. Juvia started to imagine Gray with white hair sticking out his head.

"Why are you looking at me that way?" Gray asked, glancing at her every now and then.

"Nothing." Juvia answered. "And keep your eyes on the road." She reprimanded without erasing the smile on her lips. She didn't even try.

"Oh c'mon. Do I have something on my face?" Gray knew there wasn't but he, too, had that foolish smile on his face.

"Yes. There's that silly look you need to get rid of."

"Hey, you have it on yours too."

"I don't!" Juvia denied.

"Yes, you do. Look!" Gray reached out and palmed Juvia's face with his free hand. "You get rid of it first."

"Gray!" Juvia reprimanded with a giggle, swatting his hands off her.

They shared a soft chuckle in the car; lost in their own little world again. Juvia shifted her gaze to the window and rested her head against it. Juvia heaved an audible sigh. The events from earlier played in her head like a reel. Today couldn't have been more perfect and she couldn't be happier.

The familiar brown roof peered into the window and Juvia felt the Camaro slowing down. The convertible prowled into the front of the two-storey white-fenced house.

"We're here." Gray announced. Then, he cut off the engine and alighted from the Camaro.

Gray walked up to Juvia's side, taking her hand in his. It wasn't the first time Gray held her hand but somehow it felt different – good different. Her heart was pounding, not in a nervous beat but more like that giddy feeling when drinking caffeine; like she was excited for something. Like there was something amazing to come.

They continued the path that led to her door; fingers still intertwined. They walked up the steps into the porch and halted in front of the door. The silence that settled between them was cut short by Gray.

"I guess this is goodnight." Gray said, taking a step closer towards Juvia.

Her eyes fell on his lips and Juvia thought back at the time they shared their first kiss, right in front of her door, exactly where they were standing now.

"Yeah. I guess it is." She answered, taking her eyes off Gray's tempting lips and back to his midnight eyes.

When Gray leaned in, Juvia fought the urge to close her eyes. She wanted to witness everything and safely tuck the memory in her mind. Her eyes never left his as Gray bridged the gap between them. She waited, heart strumming in anticipation. Then, he softly pressed his lips against hers.

The kiss started slow and gentle; both of them wanting to indulge in the taste of each other. It remained chaste until a low moan slipped from Juvia's lips and into Gray's. It was her permission and encouragement for Gray to deepen the kiss. He also would have if not for the sound that came from the door – a sound of a person clearing his throat.

Juvia pulled away from the kiss. She slowly turned to the door, praying she was wrong and that the person she was about to face wasn't who she thought it was.

But Juvia Lockser was rarely wrong.

Heat rose up and painted her cheeks rosy. She forgot how to speak for a moment and wished she could dig a hole to hide in.

"Oh, dad!" She managed to say sheepishly as she confronted a six foot man with his arms crossed against his chest. "You're back." She fought the second wave of shame about to hit her when the fierce blue eyes she missed narrowed at her.

"Good evening, sir." Gray greeted, catching Ambassador Lockser's attention.

The man did not speak but the intimidation came across his lone intended audience – Gray Fullbuster.

It has been awhile since someone put a mouse in Gray's chest.

...

Writer's Corner: Hi you guys! New chapter's up. How have you guys been? I would just like to thank you again for your unending support both old and new readers. You are the best!

I know I promised you guys a new character and I think he's not who you guys were expecting right? Hehe.

See you in the next chapter and drop some love at the comment section. Muah!

[so-shiny-so-chrome]

Witness: Weirdness_Unlimited

Creator name (AO3): Weirdness_Unlimited

Creator name (Tumblr): Burn-your-face-upon-the-chrome

Link to creator works: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weirdness_Unlimited/works

Q: Why the Mad Max Fandom?

A: In the Mad Max universe, anything that is completely absurd and outrageous is represented as the norm. Leather fetish gear? Oh, that's just the security guard uniform at Bartertown. Those guys over there are wearing black and white face paint? No, you're not at an ICP concert, those are War Boys, also run. Whoa, there are acrobats being flung through the air on poles attached to moving vehicles! No worries, that's just any Tuesday in Gas Town. I love this fandom because pretty much any nonsense my skull meat can come up with, as long as the mechanics of it work, I can throw it into my fics and not a single person will bat an eye. As a matter of fact, the weirder, the better. 

Q: What do you think are some defining aspects of your work? Do you have a style? Recurrent themes?

A: Life is gross, humans do gross things, and the environment around you could not care less about any of your moral dilemmas. I suppose you can say my style is a lack of it. I like things straight forward and I know this characteristic often weakens any aesthetic appeal to my writing. “To Love Reptiles” reads from Slit's perspective the same way a radio manual does but with a lot more cursing. I try not to make it too complicated to digest. I'd like for people to be able to fill in any blanks with their own interpretation of the situation and then move on to the next. 

Themes though, I go heavy on themes. The main theme is interpersonal relationships, coping with failure within them, and personal growth. Other themes include coping with mental illness, codependency, hunger, greed, warfare, trauma, etc.  

Q: Which of your works was the most fun to create? The most difficult? Which is your most popular? Most successful? Your favourite overall?

A: The most fun work of my own, by far, has been “To Love Reptiles.” It has also been the most popular, most successful, and my most favourite. The most difficult has been an original work with no working title. I can't give away much about this original piece but it has to do with local myths and survival in the wilderness. I quit working on the rough manuscript when my grandmother passed away several years ago. I'll be picking it up again soon. It may turn up on AO3 in the next three or four years.

Q: How do you like your wasteland? Gritty? Hopeful? Campy? Soft? Why?/

A: Gritty but hopeful, I think. The wasteland is nasty but humans need hope, right?

Q: Walk us through your creative process from idea to finished product. What's your prefered environment for creating? How do you get through rough patches?

A: Alright, so that's an interesting question with a pretty messy answer but I'll try to make it brisk.   Step 1: I start with a summary of the story as a whole with a point A (the beginning) and a point B (the end). Step 2: I break that summary down and and fill it out with events that can ferry the characters from the start of the story to the finish on a drawn timeline to keep things in chronological order. I also have note cards. I break this down further into named chapters. This can take a while. Step 3: I summarize each of those chapters to figure out if this story needs more than one installment. It depends out how the series of events land and how many minor arcs are included with the main arc/objective. Sprinkle some drama in there, scrap some unnecessary things, narrow an installment down to thirty (30) chapters at maximum. Step 4: I summarize individual scenes within the chapters and hack out important dialog. This takes weeks. There's typically between four and ten scenes per chapter. Also more note cards. Step 5: I try to flesh out one scene per day. (key word: Try) 

 I get the most writing done in the morning over coffee and before work. I usually sit at the breakfast table with my phone and spit out about 500-ish words before my husband wakes up. I'll write intermittently throughout the day. Lately I haven't been writing much because of holiday junk and winter being kind of a bummer. 

 If I'm in a rough patch, I can break though it by sitting in a room with no internet access and forcing myself to scratch out a scene or two in a notepad. Usually these notepad scribbles are so awful that they get torn out and chucked in the waste bin but the next day I'm keen to do the job right. 

Q: What (if any) music do you listen to for help getting those creative juices flowing?

A: Ambient sound, white noise, or nothing. I do listen to music and there's a lot of songs I associate with stories, fics, characters. Tove Lo is a big one for Dune. Most of the time I find that music with lyrics or a high tempo is distracting if I'm in the act of writing something but it can be a source of inspiration separately. 

Q: How do you keep track of all the details as you're writing? How do you keep details consistent in your works? How do you fact-check your writing?

A: I have a little memo pad with numbered facts that do not change at any point through the story. These are kinda the cardinal rules. I can't tell you the rules because they contain spoilers. After the “RULES” there are miscellaneous details that I'd like to remember in case they come up later. Things like birthmarks, scar placement, mannerisms, things I've hinted at without exposition that will need to be revealed later.

I fact check by googling stuff and falling down research holes for several hours until I forget what I was doing. EVENTUALLY I'll come back to writing and realize that's why there are things in my search history that probably have me on some kind of government watch list.

Q: What motivates your writing?

A: My motivation. Real talk? For AAL it's to get to a particular scene in the planned third installment. Scene thirteen in chapter seven. I know that answers exactly nothing and is weirdly specific but... yes. Other works of mine, I'm motivated by the idea that some of my ideas might entertain someone out there, even if it's just one someone then I've succeeded.

Q: What is your biggest challenge as a creator?

A: Time management. I have a lot of hobbies and finding time for individual projects is... Hard. I made a boredom jar that lets me pick an unfinished task/project/piece at random to do whenever I'm bored so that I can stop myself from starting anything new when my apartment is already full of unfinished junk.

Q: How have you grown as a creator through your participation in the Mad Max Fandom? How has your work changed? Have you learned anything about yourself?

A: Yes. My organizational skills have improved by miles and my attention span is better focused. Grammatically my work has undergone general improvement.  

Learned anything about myself? Hmm, I learned that my opinion of what is canon and what makes good fan fiction are two completely different things. If you ask me anything specific about the Mad Max franchise you will probably get both opinions. As an example: Does Maxosa make for good fan fiction? Heck Yeah! Will canon Max Rockatansky or Furiosa ever be mentally and emotionally healed enough to actually be in a relationship? Probably not and that's okay. I can happily read Max and Furi getting cuddly and domestic and enjoy the heck out of another writer's interpretation of these two overcoming the hurdles of their respective traumas. I can do this knowing full well that Max and Furiosa probably never canonically saw each other again after the closing scene of Fury Road. I'm okay with this because that's the magic of fandom and why I love it.

Q: Which character do you relate to the most, and how does that affect your approach to that character? Is someone else your favourite to portray? How has your understanding of these characters grown through portraying them?

A: I relate to Max the most, and I think the reason I haven't yet published anything written from his perspective is because he'd be the most difficult to write without touching on my own fears and inadequacies too much. Max is not interested in being involved with the dramas of anyone else's life. He's already seen too much turmoil and had a hand in it too many times to actively seek people and their inherent problems, however, when presented with zero alternative he'll do what needs to be done and suffer though forming new attachments to very mortal people who may drop dead at any minute. He isn't comfortable with the process of forming attachments and he'd rather avoid it. He doesn't want another ghost. At least that's my interpretation of him. 

 Slit, remarkably, is my favorite to write for in spite of the fact that I don't relate to him in any way and my interpretation of his portrayal in the film is, simply put, a blunt edged euphemism for abusive relationships. He's just... a guilty pleasure to examine and write. I blame my fondness on the stunning character design and Josh Helman's energy on screen. The character says and does ridiculous things and it's just hilarious to watch Slit dig his own grave and humiliate himself. Case and point: I've got his boot! My understanding of Slit has grown through writing about him. He's probably (canonically) deeply insecure and his way of thinking very toxic and self focused. There's gotta be trauma there (I took massive creative license in that area) and a whole host of personal issues that explain his behavior, but will never excuse it. Does that make good fan fiction??? Parts of it do, the rest has to be that very human ability to grow and improve, although I don't think he'd have that opportunity in canon or accept any form of assistance... If he'd lived. 

Q: Do you ever self-insert, even accidentally?

A: I think you kind of have to self-insert to a point. Writing tends to involve exaggerating your own experiences and the imagined interactions in your own head in order to make the experiences of the characters relatable. I'd rather not examine every individual facet of the issue but yes, I think Dune is an unintentional self-insert to cope with health problems before I was consciously aware of what I was coping with and since that realization, lately, she's a lot harder to write. 

Q: Do you have any favourite relationships to portray? What interests you about them?Honestly? Close platonic friendship. Emotional intimacy is interesting. I draw a lot of inspiration for friendship in fiction from Mulder and Scully in early seasons of The X-files.

Q: How does your work for the fandom change how you look at the source material?

A: I see more minor details and the context of silent interactions. Some of these details are unsettling, some of them are so subtle and subliminal that they're easily missed when you watch the films, especially Fury Road. Oddly enough, I'm a lot more- Ah whats the word? Not quite critical of but unnerved by my own observations of Capable's relationship with Nux. I'm not sure why. It could be that I'm misinterpreting the actress's tone or George Miller vision/direction, but I watch the movie now and find that the way Capable looks at and talks about Nux so intensely makes me uneasy. The previous is just an example among many that I've spat out so far, it's not important.

Q: Do you prefer to create in one defined chronology or do your works stand alone? Why or why not?

A: Everything I write within the Mad Max fandom with the exception of collaborative works will probably be linked together and consistent with one another because that means less to remember and fewer mix-ups.

Q: To break or not to break canon? Why?

A: If you have to, break it. I'll read it. I like my fandom unlimited, baby. In my own works I try to keep with canon somewhat but I resurrect a lot of characters who almost certainly died because if I didn't, it would really only leave seven (I think) named characters with dialog who did not die in Fury Road. (The surviving women of the Many Mothers weren't named.)

Q: Share some headcanons:

A: 1) Max has intestinal parasites. He ate a live (two headed) lizard in the first thirty seconds of Fury Road. You really really really should not do that. 

 2) Furiosa didn't want to kill Ace. She could have just blown his head off instead of punching him in the face with a pistol. She didn't shoot him. 

 3) Ace did not go under the wheels. Foxy Grandpa lives. 

 4) Miss Giddy is also alive somewhere 

 5) Actually, most people in the wasteland probably have intestinal parasites. 

Q: If you work with OCs walk us through your process for creating them. Who are some of your favourites?

A: My original characters tend to create themselves. I don't know how they do it, they kinda just decide for themselves for better or worse what they'll look like and how they'll behave. Dune was an accident and the “About a Lizard” series wasn't supposed to happen at all. It was supposed to be a one-shot word dump of what Slit's final moments might have looked like. Slit was supposed to die in a fleeting but intense two seconds of delusions about Valkyries and Valhalla... And then be eaten by a scavenger cannibal. The whole thing kind of just happened on the fly. Ardith, Phil/Crank, Featherknife, Bones, and the kids were also accidental. I had no idea where I was going with the encounter with Crow Fishermen. They just popped into existence of their own will and the rest is history. The only original characters that have been planned and designed well beforehand have been villains. This probably says something about me as a writer though I'm not sure what. 

Q: When creating a new character for the AAL series, how do you approach their first interactions with your main characters?

A: The first thing I ask is “What does this scene need” and sometimes it needs a new character for villainy or friendly acquaintance reasons or for a skill-set the main characters do not posses. New characters have a habit of changing a chapter or making it much longer than intended. First interactions with Slit probably won't surprise anyone. He phases through distrust to dislike to begrudged cooperation and from there he's either on his way back to dislike or entering the tolerance phase. Beyond the tolerance phase is... The Complicated Zone. The Complicated Zone is where Nux and Dune are situated. Dune has two basic instincts with people: Should I shoot you? Or should I befriend you? Bizarrely, being friendly is the weirder option in the wastes. Shooting is almost always a consideration if she's taken by surprise.

Q: If you create original works, how do those compare to your fan works?

A: My original works are probably darker and deal more with modern problems. I turn to fan fiction for fun and to indirectly work through things.

Q: Who are some works by other creators inside and outside of the fandom that have influenced your work?

A: A lot of the fandom, too many names to name but one stands out and I can't remember their name or the title of their work. It was about Ace growing up and there was a dingo and a young Miss Giddy. If anyone knows what I'm talking about, please help. I've been looking for this fic for ages.

Q: Is there a specific author(s) that inspired your work when you began writing TLR?

A: I don't think any specific author inspired me while I began TLR but The Dark Half by Stephen King is one of my favorites and I recall re-reading it shortly before getting deep into fan writing. I may even have unconsciously plagiarized a few lines off that book. In my latest attempt to re-read that novel I'm feeling like there's a lot of Thad Beaumont in my portrayal of Slit.

Q: What advice can you give someone who is struggling to make their own works more interesting, compelling, cohesive, etc.? 

A: Don't be afraid to write things that are too soft or too dark or too this or too that. Sometimes readers crave that stuff that makes us feel warm and safe and sometimes we're also here for things that make us wonder how the @!#$% the characters will ever recover or IF they will ever recover. The real world is full of all sorts of feelings, situations, serendipitous coincidences. Take us down whatever funky road you got! You're the driver, you decide. Your fic is your world. Write WILD things sometimes because it's fun. 

Q: Have you visited or do you plan to visit Australia, Wasteland Weekend, or other Mad Max place?

A: I would love to take a trip to Australia one day to paint scenery in oils but that predates my time in MM fandom. I really want to go to Wasteland Weekend in the next two years but finances, necessities, costumes, etc need to be sorted out first.

Q: Tell us about a current WIP or planned project.

A: Well, I'm buying up model car kits to make little Mad Max cars for nerd purposes.

Thank you @burn-your-face-upon-the-chrome

[perditaalottachocolate-blog]

Akuma Fashion

Summary: Gabriel catches Adrien in an extremely peculiar outfit. Hawkmoth decides to investigate. April Fools crackfic. You’re welcome.

[EDIT: Sorry for the strange characters and no apostrophes but it’s tumblr playing a trick on me. This looks okay on my blog]

AO3 / Fanfiction.net

Gabriel found out only because he caught Adrien sneaking up the cavernous hall of the mansion. Despite Gabriel’s requests he was hunching and walking the crab walk of someone who wishes to become invisible.

‘Adrien!’ he called immediately, catching wind of something fishy.

His son shuddered and slumped even further. He stopped but didn’t turn around.

‘Yes, father?’ the boy asked looking at him over his shoulder.

‘Keep your back straight, I’ve asked you so many times,’ Gabriel scolded.

Adrien straightened up immediately. ‘Yes, father,’ he replied, his back now straight but still in Gabriel’s vision.

‘Turn around, son. It’s extremely impolite to talk to someone with your back to them,’ the designer pointed out, now looking for the reason his son was sneaking to his room.

‘I, um, I’m in a hurry, father,’ the boy’s face contorted in a lopsided smile. ‘I have a lot of homework!’ he squeaked.

Gabriel’s silver brow shot up high above his glasses in reply to this strange behavior. His son was really a poor actor. ‘Turn around,’ the man ordered, mentally slapping himself for wanting to follow it with “slowly”.

It was at that moment he noticed that Adrien’s overshirt bulged in strange ways and even if he stood straight, it still seemed a bit… well… hunchy. A random pun about having a hunch about the hunch crossed his mind, but he quickly dismissed it. Puns were now exclusive for his alter ego and he only donned the purple pants in the mornings, when Adrien was at school.

Adrien completed his turn and was trying to combine the impossible - standing straight as per request, and clutching the overshirt close to his chest in a clear attempt to hide whatever it was underneath. It seemed that not only his back was bulgy, but his biceps looked extremely weird and puffy. The boy cast him a quick look and averted his gaze to his feet.

‘I’m sorry, father,’ he mumbled. ‘Can I go now?’

‘What are you wearing?’ Gabriel barked.

Adrien’s eyes got bigger. ‘My usual shirt?’ he whispered.

Gabriel sighed. His son could be oblivious sometimes, he was well aware of that streak. It ran in the family. But he felt personally offended that despite the evidence Adrien still decided to play stupid.

‘And underneath?’ he pressed on. Really, what was the boy thinking?

‘My usual t-shirt?’ Adrien forgot himself for a moment. His hand went to his neck to rub it, like he always did when uncomfortable, and that was all it took for Gabriel to catch the glimpse of the real garment under the white shirt.

The designer cringed and gasped, for the first time in years rendered speechless by an article of clothing. And not in a good way.

At that point Adrien had realized his mistake. ‘I guess the cat is out of the bag,’ he offered a sheepish smile and pushed the overshirt to sides to reveal…

Well damn, Gabriel was a designer for years, participated in a ton of haute couture ridiculous weeks, but he still had difficulty with putting a label onto what his son was actually wearing.

It started as a huge bubble of red, covering his neck and chest, then turned into a smaller bubble of yellow at his stomach and another one, blue, at his waist. From what Gabriel could see, the same pattern was repeated on the sleeves. There was a large eye-like print in front and some dark tube like embroidery going to the back of the garment.

He couldn’t help but to stare until Adrien broke the silence clearing his throat.

Gabriel started. ‘Take the overshirt off, please?’

The boy did as he was asked and bashfully demonstrated another print at the back of the… thing… looking similar to a yellow bubble container. Finally it dawned on the designer what he was actually seeing.

‘Is it… a costume?’ he queried.

Adrien went back to rubbing his neck. ‘Sort of, but not really?’ he hesitated. ‘It’s just like a normal t-shirt just a bit… extra?’

Gabriel could only glare, but the boy soldiered on. ‘Everyone is wearing them,’ he said proudly. ‘This is all the rage now.’

Well it definitely was outrageous, if anyone would bother to ask Gabe. ‘Couldn’t agree more,’ the man muttered under his breath and then a nagging thought kicked him in the brain. ‘What do you mean “everyone is wearing them”?’

‘Oh, it’s this new thing,’ Adrien smiled, apparently taking Gabriel’s startled expression as a sign of interest. ‘It’s not only the Bubbler. There’s plenty of other akuma,’ he enthused. ‘I have Antibug too. And Pharaoh, and Lady Wifi, RogerCop and the Mime. Guitar Villain of course and…’ he paused suddenly, biting his lip.

‘And?’ Gabriel urged him to continue. ‘And who?’

‘... the Collector,’ Adrien mumbled shuffling his feet and once again effectively shutting all the designer’s systems down.

Gabriel’s brain was sizzling at that point. Someone was making akuma clothes? And not just prints on t-shirts, but actual costume-like clothes, as evidenced in the bulges on Adrien’s arms and chest. Someone was selling them? It was a new young fashion trend? Was it only young fashion? Why didn’t he see that coming? And so on, and so on, his mind was flooded with questions. The fact that his son out of fascination or loyalty or whatever else the reason was, bought a shirt based on his akuma was the proverbial cherry on top, which he decided to put away for further consideration.

‘I know it’s silly,’ now Adrien caught on his state and automatically started explaining himself, ‘and that I should wear our brand. But it’s so much fun I couldn’t stop myself,’ he reverted to rubbing his neck again.

Gabriel’s brain finally rebooted. He waved his hand dismissively. ‘I don’t mind,’ he stated gravely. ‘But I’d like to know, where did you buy them.’

The boy shrugged and evidently stopped himself mid eye-roll, ‘The internet,’ he said. ‘But they are sometimes available at local fairs and events. That’s where I got this one,’ he pointed to the black-eyed red bubble covering his chest.

‘Hmmm,’ Gabriel pursed his lips. ‘Thank you for this information. Now I believe you’ve mentioned a lot of homework. Don’t let me detain you.’

Adrien smirked and nodded, probably grateful that the interrogation was over, and rushed to his room, while Gabriel headed to his own study drowned in thoughts.

Someone was using akuma designs to create clothes and it irked him to no end. Haven’t people heard of copyrights, for heaven’s sake?!

Oh, right. Those weren’t Gabriel’s designs. Those were Hawkmoth’s. He couldn’t exactly use them in any of his collections. It would not only be risky, stupidly drawing attention to his brand and associating it with the akumas, especially with the whole deal with the book, but if he was honest with himself it would be also a tad unethical.

‘Nathalie,’ he paused his musing only to summon his assistant. ‘Please find out, who is selling the akuma clothes Adrien’s bought and get me all of them right away,’ he ordered and closed the door in her face.

He started pacing impatiently in his study, mulling over the whole affair.

But those are my designs, something at the back of his brain screamed.

Awful designs, his designer ego replied, wincing.

On purpose, to cover your tracks, the backbrain argued.

Really awful designs, the ego hissed. Cringeworthy, including the Collector.

That’s beside the point, the hindbrain replied. Someone is making money out of it, so they must be good.

Well, the ego stroked his chin, those are my designs after all.

And you don’t mind someone is using them without permission?! the back of his brain screamed.

It’s not like I can just go to them and ask them to stop! the ego now was doubly vexed, at the situation and at that hindbrain of his.

Why not? the backbrain droned.

‘That’s enough,’ Gabriel bellowed, slamming his fists into the wall with enough force to leave a dent. He earned a gasp in reply, as Nathalie dropped a pile of clothes she was just taking inside.

‘Sorry, Sir,’ she apologized automatically and started picking up the weird collection from the floor. She spread the garments over the miniature runway and left, casting him a worried look.

First thing Gabriel did was inspecting the materials. Decent quality, but not over the top. Of course, things like that should be affordable. The stitching was neat. The cut reasonable. Close enough to the akumas’ real look, but comfortable to wear. He was surprised at the variety of the items - there were t-shirts, tunics, shirts and even a Horrificator themed hoodie, with purple tentacles sewn to the hood above the embroidered three eyes.

He clenched his fists. A closer inspection of the hoodie revealed a tag with a trademark - a white and purple akuma outline, similar to what appeared when Hawkmoth talked to his champions. Apparently not only his ideas were borrowed, but also Nooroo’s. The little kwami wouldn’t get any recognition for his logo either, he thought and it somehow made him feel better that he wasn’t alone in his misery.

His rage cooled a bit. These clothes were not only decently done, but also inventive in design. True, it was inspired by his akumas, but neatly implemented into everyday clothing. And in a very creative way. Gabriel whistled in appreciation. He had to admit this wasn’t really a case of design theft, but an adaptation of the idea. Inspiration was a very accurate word here and as a fellow designer he couldn’t help but to admire the concepts.

An acronym “AF” caught his eye. Underneath he found  the phrase “Akuma Fashion” printed in small font. He typed it into his phone and a quick search returned an address in another part of the city. Gabriel considered it for a moment. He was curious. He had been even before he got his paws on the clothes and now that he analysed them, he was itching to learn who was behind all this. But he couldn’t exactly pay them an inconspicuous visit as Gabriel Agreste without causing unwanted gossip.

He chuckled. That’s where having a masked alter ego came in handy. A quick transformation and a few leaps later, he was already nearing the arrondissement where the label was registered.

Hawkmoth sneaked through the backdoor to something he hoped was a workshop. A dark corridor stretched to the front of the building, and from the rooms on either side of it he could hear a familiar hum of sewing machines. He risked a peek inside one of them only to discover a few men and women in Ladybug aprons working on various items of clothing. Some designs he had already seen, but some were new. Curious, he glimpsed into some other rooms, careful to stay hidden in the darkness of the corridor. In every room he found similar set of machines and ladybug-apronned sewers.

He got to a stairwell and then caught voices from the upper level of the building. Silently he climbed the stairs, as the conversation on the first floor unravelled.

‘Well, it was Chat’s idea,’ someone giggled.

‘Oh, Bugaboo, it was just a joke that you turned into this miraculous enterprise,’ another voice replied smugly.

‘So both of you were behind this idea, I see,’ a third, professional but amused voice interrupted. ‘How does it work?’

This sounded like an interview. Intrigued, Hawkmoth halted in front of the door to the room that was the source of the voices. He listened, his curiosity finally getting the feast it craved.

‘It’s a social economy venture, we do not do this for profit,’ the first, feminine voice explained.

‘Everything we earn goes to the employees or is donated to public utility foundations of our choice,’ the second, manly voice supplied.

‘And the designs?’ the interviewer prompted.

‘Oh, those are all Ladybug’s input,’ the second voice stated proudly. ‘Turns out that the embodiment of creation has quite a creative streak in her,’ he murmured and there was a slight thwack sound, as if someone hit another someone in the arm.

‘Stop with the praise, Kitty,’ the first voice replied happily. ‘Some of those are your ideas.’

‘But it’s you who provides the detailed designs, my Lady,’ the second voice replied in mock offence.

‘Well, Ladybug, I must congratulate you,’ the interviewer was clearly pleased with their interviewees’ trademark banter. ‘I’ve spoken with a few people of Parisian fashion world and they all complimented the designs as being neat, modern, and well... ahem… cut to consumers’ needs.’ There was a pause and a male snicker was heard before the journalist continued. ‘They were all surprised you don’t want to take credit for them as your civilian self. It would definitely open many doors for you.’

Oh, Hawkmoth would most definitely open quite a few himself, including one trapdoor, Gabriel thought bitterly.

‘Thank you,’ the first voice - clearly Ladybug - replied. ‘But I’m not doing this for fame or portfolio or whatever other reasons. We just wanted to do something substantial for the public and at the same time lessen the stigma that comes from akumatization.’

‘So by making akuma clothes trendy you’re helping the victims?’ the interviewer sounded astonished.

‘We wanted to bring attention to the fact that the victims are innocent and shouldn’t be rejected or bullied, like we know has happened in a few cases,’ the second voice - Chat’s - explained solemnly.

‘And by redistributing the profits we make sure something good comes to us even from such disastrous things like akuma attacks,’ Ladybug concluded.

Well, that was quite a lot of information for Hawkmoth to digest. The idea was brilliant, the motivation noble. It figured the heroes would come up with something like that, he mentally spat. He resisted the urge to stomp and grumble something villainy under his breath, when he felt someone catching his arms and pushing him inside the room where the interview took place.

‘I found one, Nadja,’ his captor called from behind his back. ‘Is he any good?’ they asked pointing a finger to his suit.

‘Ah, this must be your newest design!’ the journalist, who now despite his horror Hawkmoth identified as Nadja Chamack exclaimed in surprise. ‘I think it’s your first suit? How unique!’ she delighted. ‘I thought you aimed at youngsters, but this… I could totally see a gentleman in a suit like that.’

Hawkmoth decided he liked this woman already. She babbled happily about his super-costume completely oblivious that her interviewees raised from their seats and reached for their weapons.

He wanted to draw his sword in reply, but discovered that nasty woman took it away to inspect “the craftsmanship”.

Well fuck, he thought, as the yoyo string wrapped around his arms and shoulders. He squinted at the end of Chat’s baton that stopped millimeters from his face, This is going to be an interesting afternoon.

In his hands, bound behind his back, a white butterfly flickered and turned purple, charged with magic.

[bts7writings]

Slow Romance

A/N ~ I’m sorry for taking longer than the request period on this one, but I wanted to make it as good as possible for you. ♡ In no means was this too specific, I accept all ranges.

Pairing: Reader x D.O

Genre: Fluff | Angst | Drabble

Words: 1.4K

“Y/n, you got an extra coffee - again.” You placed all three cups on the table, rolling your eyes at you best friend pointing out the obvious, she loved teasing you about your crush. “I wonder why.”

You pass her her drink and grab the other two. “Stop teasing me, Lisa, you know exactly who the extra coffee is for”

“Riiight” she says taking a sip, “Go on then.” She turns in her seat to nod towards the cashiers directions.

Your lips press together as you walk towards the direction.

It all started last summer. You were doing a research for your end of term paper so you came to the library to check out some books, you would have never guessed you would be checking out something other then books.

You were innocently reaching up to grab the animal encyclopedia, when you grabbed it, not aware of how heavy it would be, you lose the grips causing it to  hit you in the corner of your face.

“Ow, fu-”

“Are you okay?” You heard a guy call out at the end of the aisle. You saw him lean and reached down grabbing the book off the floor and coming close to examine you. You felt his hand gently turn your face to let him examine your injury. Just as you were about to say something, you stop - staring up at his concentrated eyes. “There’s no bleeding, but I’m sure they'll be a bruise ”

His eyes meet your own and he drops his hand, taking a step back and looking down at his hand awkwardly. “Do you want to check out this book?”

“After it assaulted me?” You joke, hopping to lighten the mood, but he only stares up at you slightly before returning his gaze back down. “Um, yeah.”

“I can do it right here, i-if you want” he says silently going over to the table to grab an iPad and scanner. He scans the book, “Do you have a library card?”

“Yeah.” You go down on one knee and search your bag for you wallet, feeling slightly embarrassed at the mess of loose papers shuffling around as you reach in.

You hand him the card and he scans it, immediately handing it back. “Okay...oh um - have a good day”

And just like that you were coming to the library practically every Friday. This was more interesting then staying at home scrolling through Tumblr and Instagram because now you could do that a look up form your screen to see him.

Your friend figured out what you were up to and had no trouble reading in the library as you tried to make progress in the relationship - if thats what you could call it.

“Pick me up on your way” she said one day, “I want to see this Kyungsoo. Plus, my parents are always telling me to go out of the house.”

It didn't hurt that you liked reading and forgot the joy of it when you were assigned to read for classes. Your wallet thanked you for it too - although there were those couple of cents in late fees sometimes.

You take a deep breath a few feet away from him. He looks over in the other direction slighting before flickering his gaze down at the books he was currently scanning, oblivious to your struggle.

When you reach him it takes him by surprise and he gives a small smile.

You casually hand him his coffee and sit on the desk in front of him - it’s become a routine ever since you’ve come here.

“Theres new books in the bin, if you're intrested” he suggest nodding over to the bin he's locating the already scanned books.

“Did you finish the book I told you about?” You say sneaking a glance at the book peaking from his own bag.

“No - almost done with it” he stops his work to look up a you, “No spoilers.”

You and Lisa both enter your freezing car, rapidly reaching to turn the heating knob on the dashboard.

On the way home, after 10 straight sighs leaving your mouth, Lisa finally asked what was wrong.“ I’m about to just check out my last book”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s been half a year!” you groan, “I feel like an idiot - he probably uncomfortable in his own workplace”

“So its a slow romance” your friend says, “Listen not all of us can be as fast as Romeo or most of the character in books”

“But-” you sigh loudly as you slow down in front of her house.

“See you next Friday then?” You reluctantly nod your head, unlocking her door. “Be careful, it’s getting dangerous to drive with all this snow” she says getting out go the car and waving you off as you make a U turn.

The next Friday, Lisa made her own way towards the library. Once she entered she was relieved by the fact that Kyungsoo acknowledged her entrance and then began searching around.

She took her usually seat and grabbed a random book, barely even reading, she waited for his move. Fortunately, he came around sooner than expected, nervously making his way towards her.

“Looking for someone?” Lisa’s eyebrow arches, looking up from her book, her smile an ever-present teasing pose.

“Um...” He couldn't possibly ask her friend about her without getting found out, “I-”

“She's in the Hospital on Lennox street” Lisa says, “She got in a car accident last Friday.” She watches as Kyungsoo’s reactions turns worried immediately following her news. “Before you go all Romeo-” Lisa gets up and places her books back on the shelves, “She’s fine and gets let out on Monday. But she has visitors till 11 today”

She grabs her bag, ready to leave, but halts to see an unreadable expression on Kyungsoo. This moment pauses for a while, before he looks up and says, “Tell her I hope she feels better.” Lisa nods her head and goes out of the library.

“Mom - I said I was fine, so please go ho-oh” You stare up completely silent and surprised at seeing Kyungsoo closing the door slowly behind him.

You sat up on the hospital bed, as he approached you. 

“I heard about you accident”

“How?”

He pulled a small bouquet from his back, awkwardly placing it on your bed side table. “Um..I was told”

“You asked about me?” You conclude trying to control your mouth twitching into a smile, “Why?”

Kyungsoo silently shrugged and exchanged his feet balance, shifting slowly for left to right. “So you missed me?”

“I-uh” he small smile comes to his face, “How’re you feeling?”

“Not that bad, I’m glad you didn't see me the first couple of nights,” you sit up, “Either I was too bruised up or too high on the pain meds. Either way-”

“Either way, I would’ve wanted to see you” he says. You try and hide your growing smile but fail as you look back at him. You scoot over and tap the space next to you on the bed.

You see his cheeks flush and he begins to look down at the floor again, “Um..You need to rest and I- I should”

“You should help me rest” you say tapping the place again. He looks up, opening his mouth as if he’s about to say something but thinks against it, slowly making his way towards you.

He leans over to pull the covers around you before laying down over the blanket. “I’ll leave when you fall asleep then”

He bravely puts an arm around you, pulling you closer to him.

“So Lisa was right...It was a slow romance?”

He leans over to look at your face, “Lisa’s the friend you alway come with, right?”

You nod, “She’s the one that kept insist-”

He leans his face towards you, interrupting you, slightly brushing your lips with his. He leans back, about to say something, but doesn't expect you to sit up and follow his kiss. Closing your eyes this time, you smile when you feel his soft lips press down again, slightly presses you back; him not wanting you to use that much energy.

When he finally leans out, you open your eyes to see him smile and then press his lips with each other. His hand around you pulls you to his chest, his lips grazing the top of your hear. “Y-you should get some rest.”

__________________________________________________

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[canadian-buckbeaver]

Ink Demon’s Game

- CHAPTER THREE SPOILERS -

Your father, against his better judgement, decided to go meet with Joey after so many years apart. Now he’s missing and many people are reluctant to do anything about it. So you brave the old studio and find evidence of your father being there, but he’s nowhere to be seen. You must travel deeper into the studio, braving the errands of Angel, meet Boris and escape from the grasp of Bendy…

All while trying to find your father.

Good luck. You’ll be needing it.

Just remember - this is where all your dreams come true

Like what I do?  Buy me a coffee to support my writing, consider commissioning me or drop a kudos/comment on my tumblr or AO3 account!

You couldn’t help but take a deep sigh of relief as you stepped into the lift for what would be the last time, smiling at Boris.

Angel had you running all over her area of the studio, being her little errand girl for the day, as her last errand boy had mysteriously disappeared.  Part of you thought it was just a rouse as her list of to-do’s seemed scattered, random almost.  But you had never seen an angel, let alone an angel made of ink, so it was possible that she needed the ink for herself, to keep her decaying body in one piece.  The gears and power charges were confusing to you, why would a creature such as her want with them?  And those hearts… your hands itched thinking about the feel of them in your hands.  The slime and the texture.  Perhaps it was your imagination but one had faintly pulsed in your hand when you had picked it up.  No, you were glad that that was over with.  When you finally got out of here you were going to take the longest, hottest shower you could stand, scrubbing the ink from your pores till not a stain remained.  To do that, you needed to get out of this damned place first.  As Angel pondered about heaven and how she had always imagined it, you let your mind wander.

Her last errand boy… Angel had mentioned an errand boy before you… one that hadn’t returned to her chambers.

It was no accident that you were in the old, deserted studio.  You had come here looking for your father, Henry.  He had worked here, once upon a time, about thirty years ago he had said.  Before Joey had completely taken it over he had been one of the head animators, in charge of drawing out repetitive drawings for their cartoon, Bendy the Dancing Demon.  Thirty years ago, Henry and Joey had a disagreement and Henry had turned his back on the staff and crew, vowing never to set foot in there again.  And he hadn’t.  He had gotten a new job, married, and then had you.  A few days ago Joey had sent him a frantic message, telling him that he needed to show him something and he had left, promising you and your mother that he would be home in time for supper.

Supper had come and gone, and there was no sign of your father.

You had urged your mom to call the cops but she had refused.  She had wondered if he and Joey had gotten distracted, catching up over dinner and drinks, and then your father had neglected to call home and let everyone else know of his change in plans.  That excuse didn’t excuse the second day, nor did it explain the third…

You had tried calling the police yourself and they had promised to check it out.  When they got around to it.  Curse this town and it’s small crew of officers.  Oversight on the council’s part to cut funding for the officers.  ‘Nothing happens here, do we need a full taskforce?’ one had dared ask.

These thoughts were interrupted when the elevator stopped and shuddered.  That’s when you heard Angel’s maniacal laughter.  You knew that she was unhinged, slightly deranged but that crazy?  She was a cartoon character, you chided yourself, anything was possible with them.

Boris looked at you, the pupils of his eyes possibly round with fear, you couldn’t quite tell with him.

The lift dropped like a stone.  Boris covered his head, shaking like a leaf.  You left to grip to the sides of elevator, praying that the cable would catch, that you would be safe, that you would survive this fall.

But with old style elevators, they just don’t have the same safety mechanisms as modern day ones.

As Angel screamed about taking Boris, you somehow moved closer to him.  You wouldn’t allow that monster to take him.  Boris had shown you nothing but kindness.  He had walked you through the twists and turns of the tunnels, opened the locked doors, and had even shown you the safe rooms.  No, he would be protected.  Boris would not meet the same fate as those other Borises in her little experimentation and torture room.

Before you could promise Boris anything, the elevator finally crashed.  The momentum causing you to hit your head on the metal bars, before falling to the ground.  The last vision you saw before the world turned dark was one of your father, smiling down at you.

When you finally came to, Boris was shaking you gently, trying to wake you.  Your head throbbed, and your vision swam.  Why was it so hard to concentrate?  Where were you?

Boris still shook you gently, mutely pleading for you to wake, get up, and continue your journey.  That’s when the shadow started to approach the two of you, slowly, stealthy, as if they didn’t want to be seen or heard.

Angel.

You tried to say something, but your traitorous body was too weak to do anything.  Your mouth gaped like a fish, no words escaping, and your eyes still swam with darkness and stars.

When you were next aware, Boris was reaching out to you, almost pleadingly, as Angel jerked him back.  Down to her cave of horrors… of death.

You tried to rise again but, instead you succumbed to the darkness, completely helpless.

Many hours passed before your eyes opened again.  Your body was completely battered and bruised, your clothes coated in ink.  Your skull throbbed in tune with your heartbeat and your back was stiff.

Where… where was Boris?  He had been in front of you, shaking you.  Or was he in the elevator?  Waiting for you to finish your errands and return to him?

Piece by piece your memories and anger slowly returned.  Angel, heh someone had a cruel sense of humour in naming her that… you remembered seeing the evil angel behind him now, jerking him off his feet and away from you.

No time for rest.  Both Boris and your father needed you.

As quick as you could you pulled yourself to your feet, forcing yourself up and preparing to move.  You swayed, your injuries still very much affecting you and your sense of balance, causing you to grip the wall and handrail in the search for relief.  You pushed onward. Eventually your body became used to the pain and the abuse, and you were able to ignore the stars and impending darkness in your peripheral vision.

In all her glory, Angel had not considered her ‘heavenly’ footprints on the hardwood floor, nor had she thought of the long smears caused by Boris, probably where he had struggled to get free.  A perfect trail, waiting for you to follow.

A sense of justice filled you and you started to follow the tracks down to her cavern again.  It became a mantra in your mind.  “Boris will not end up like them.  Boris will not end up like them.  BORIS WILL NOT END UP LIKE THEM.”  So deep in your thoughts you didn’t realize when the room around you began to darken, the lights dampening, and the living ink began to infiltrate the room.  The very wood of the walls and roof, was saturated to the point of ink dripping through the sodden boards, the blackness slowly becoming absolute, but you still didn’t notice, your mind consumed with the thought of your father and Boris.

It wasn’t until you heard the scream behind you that you slowly turned around.

The Demon Bendy, coming straight for you, an ugly snarl on its face, and two arms outstretched to grab.

You screamed before running off, ink splashing up and around your shoes.  How could you be so careless?  But there was no time for that.  “Hide, hide, hide…” you muttered as you ran through endless hallways, cutting corners and running down and up stairs, desperately trying to lose him.

As if someone was looking out for you, there was a safe zone around the next corner.

You almost threw yourself inside the little house, clicking the door shut behind you.  There was a narrow slot where you could see through, and luckily all you could see was the expense of the hallway, and one of those Bendy cut outs.  You must have managed to get some distance between you and the demon but you already knew that it wasn’t enough… it was never enough.  You clamped your hand around your mouth to stifle the sounds of your breathing as you tried to stop your body from shaking so much.  Your knees were shaking, teeth were chattering and your spine, had it not been aching from the fall, it too would have been swaying like a reed in a storm.

As you watched the lumbering giant walked slowly up the hallway.  You just realized that ink seemed to be flowing into his eyes, blinding him.  For a moment you felt a peak of elation – a weak point! – but you already knew that he could hear you, and possibly feel the vibrations of the studio.  How else could he had found you so fast so many times before?

Bendy approached the little house, he was whispering something.  “Come on out little treat… I know you’re there…. don’t you want to dance with a demon?” A shiver ran up your spine.  He sounded exactly like the Bendy on the cartoons.  This Bendy was a lot larger, even making Boris look like a lap dog.

He was still speaking, singing.  “Don’t you want to play with me?  All this chasing… I thought you liked tag!” He laughed, in a low, rumbling tone, reminding you of a truck’s breaks.

“Do you like my cut outs little one?  Angel doesn’t, that’s why she had you destroy them.  I bet she never told you why though.  I’ll let you on a little secret~” he had turned towards the safe house suddenly, the grin becoming wider, the teeth turning from rectangles to jagged triangles.

“She doesn’t like it that I have a set of eyes, everywhere you turn.”

Wait…

WHAT?

The door to the safe house was thrown open and a dark, dripping hand grasped your throat before you had a chance to scream or beg.  He lifted you effortlessly from the house, grinning as your hands fruitlessly pounded on his large one.  Tears already were dripping down your face…

Was this how you were going to die?  At the hands of the cartoon character?

“There you are little treat~ Let’s have some fun, hmm?” he asked you.

[alicedoessurveys]

loooooong survey

Childhood

Did you spend your childhood time with mostly real or imaginary friends?: real. I spent most summers/half terms with my cousins and my neighbour’s grandkids. Did people consider you an odd child?: not odd, just shy  Do you have memories that go back to when you were only a few months old?: nope Do you remember any thoughts you had when you where very young?: not really nope  

Were they intricate or simple thoughts?: probably simple but I can't remember 

If you answered “intricate”, give an example of one of those thoughts: n/a

Were you dreams very vivid as a child?: yes, still do. I also used to get really bad night terrors a lot as a kid What is the strangest memory you have from early childhood?: can't think of anything strange.. Were you a child prodigy or did you display any gifts at a young age?: I drew a lot, but I was no prodigy What was the most “grown-up” thing you ever said as a child?: I have no idea What were your favourite TV shows in early childhood?: I grew up on Fairly Odd Parents, Rugrats, Tracy Beaker Were you afraid of monsters?: yes, especially zombies Did you believe that fictional characters were real?: yes Were you more quiet and artistic or loud and physical? quiet and artistic  Issues and stuff Do you eat meat?: yup, but only beef, chicken and bacon/sausage  If you do, what is your justification for it?: I dont feel I need to justify it, just like I wouldn't expect a vegetarian to justify why they dont eat meat. each to their own.  If you could legalize 3 things in the US, what would they be?: I dont live in the US, I dont really know their laws and I dont really care  Do you believe in the death penalty?: nope Did Mumia do it?: do what..? If you had a choice, which country would you have chosen to be born into?: I like that im English, I just wish I was born in a different part of England cause Birmingham is a shit hole What are your opinions of Michael Moore?: I dont know who that is  Describe your feelings about marijuana legalization: I think it should be for those who need it for medical stuff Red, White and Blue is a ghastly color combination, right?: nope What television news coverage do you detest the most?: all of it, I dont watch the news What will you do if Bush is re-elected? Im British, I dont care  Which state do you think will drop off into the ocean first?: idk Who do you consider “American Heros”?  I feel like these questions are very aimed at Americans  Completely Obtuse And Silly Questions Have you ever taken something apart just to see how it worked? yes  Do you ever yell at the television while you are alone? Reason?: not yell, but talk to the telly yeah. and not even just while im alone.  Name a few things (if any) that you bought on Ebay recently: I cant remember the last time I bought something off eBay  Are the Muppetes sinister? Think about it.: nope... o.O Do you watch the Science Channel (Discovery) on a regular basis?: no ive never watched it  Ever gotten into an “in person” argument with a total stranger? Discuss: yup. basically I was at this event thing where they had boats and pretty floating lights and shit on a river. we had waited all day to see them and when they were finally coming past we couldn't see them because it was so crowded and there was a “security guy” stood in the way. There was kids infront of me who kept saying they couldn't see because of him so I yelled “MOVE” and he turned around and started arguing with me. Long story short, he eventually moved out the way and found a space where he wasn't blocking anyones view and the people around me thanked me. I felt so awkward after cause im not a confrontational person at all but I was so tired & irritated that I just snapped.  Sugar or Honey?: Sugar What’s on your desk right now?: im not sat at my desk atm  How many e-mails do you recieve a day?: about 20 Do you think that time travel is a possibility?: no Are you slightly addicted to online tests and surveys?: not addicted, I just enjoy doing them to pass time San Francisco or New York City?: ive never been to either, but I would like to go to New York  What are your favorite color combinations?: grey and light blush pink looks nice Close your eyes and type the first random image that pops into your head: I cant because im listening to hairspray so thats all I can see right now  Do you enjoy night or day better?: depends what im doing  Favorite animal: Dogs   Have you ever been to a protest?: Nope, but ive ended up in the same place as a protest was taking place and it was horrible Aggravated a cop on purpose?: No Ever gone train hopping/ridden the rails?: Nope If you could choose a time period in which to live, which would it be?: I’m fine with this one Ever put your hand through a window?: no List a few words you hate the sound of: the c word And a few you like the sound of: idk Are you sick of this survey yet? not really  Emotions And Such Have you attempted suicide more than once?: No  Cutting?: Yes Do you get violent when you are angry?: Not with people, just with myself or just like throw stuff on the floor like a brat  Which emotion are you most consumed by?: fear Are you highly emotive?: Yes Do you discuss problems or keep them to yourself?: keep them to myself, and if I do discuss them I downplay or make jokes Do you fall in love easily?: not in love, but I do fall for people too easy What age/year was the most difficult for you?: around ages 19-now How do you channel your anger/sadness?: shut myself away and cry  Ever been addicted to alcohol or drugs?: No

Ever been homeless?: No List a few simple things that make you happy: playing sims, Tumblr, theatre When were you most recently your happiest?: hanging out with nick and Addison the other day  Do you consider yourself empathetic?: yes Friends Do you have friends that are drastically different from each other?: my main group of friends is only like 3 people and they have their differences but not drastic differences List a few key traits that all of your friends have in common: my friends are all into gaming, watching films & eating Do you keep in touch with friends from high school?: yes, two of my best friends are from school Have you lost touch with many of your friends?: almost everyone I become friends with end up losing touch in the end but ive been friends with Addison for 10 years and Rhys for 20 years Are they mostly local or long distance?: local  When you go out with friends, what kinds of things do you do?: usually go to the arcade, cinema and get food Have you ever been betrayed by a close friend?: yes If yes, are you still friends with that person?: no Are your friends mostly your age, younger or older?: rhys & Addison are 23, nick is 25, I am 22

Do you have a hard time making friends because most people bore you?: no, I have a hard time making friends because im socially awkward Do you like to hang out with friends one-on-one or in groups?: groups, it takes the pressure off in conversations Which of you online friends do you have the most in common with?: I dont have any online friends Family Are you close to your family?: yes What traits are you glad you inherited from them?: faithfulness & a good sense of humour  What sitcom does your family most remind you of?: I cant think of anything other than that me and my mom are a lot like Miranda and her mom from the sitcom ‘Miranda’ Does your family live locally or far away?: local Have you ever stopped speaking to someone in your family?: yes Have either of your parents died?: no, thank god Is your family very much like you or are you opposites?: a lot like me  How many siblings do you have?: one older sister Has your family ever thrown food at each other?: yes, every christmas season we throw chocolates at each other from the Quality Street or Roses tins Are the holidays a nightmare or a time of joy?: I love Christmas Day and I normally love christmas shopping but this year I found it all very stressful because I was so busy at the theatre and I had no money to buy gifts  Do you look like your parents?: ive been told I do List one interesting fact about your family: apparently my dads side of the family is descended from royalty Lovers Gay, Straight, Bi-sexual or no idea?: Straight Married/partnered?: Single Ever gone out with someone you were embarrassed to be seen with?: no Ever broken someones heart?: someone I “dated” in infant school told me when we reunited in senior school that I broke his heart. but I didn't actually do anything so I dont know where he got that from  How many serious relationships have you had?: none Have you ever lusted obsessively over someone you knew you couldn’t have?: not obsessively lusted, but I have fancied guys that I knew nothing could ever happen.  Do you believe in the theory of soulmates?: yes Ever cheated?: No Been cheated on?: No Thrown someones stuff out on the lawn/stairs/etc.?: Nope Had your stuff thrown out on the lawn/stairs/etc.?: Nope Most important emotional qualities of a lover?: someone who makes me feel happy and can make me smile, makes me feel comfortable, is caring, trustworthy, honest, affectionate  Most important physical qualities?: I dont think physical qualities are super important but I do fall for peoples eyes & smile Food & Drink Non-alcoholic beverage of choice: cherry coke or caramel hot chocolate Alcoholic beverage of choice: cider Foods you crave on a regular basis: chocolate

Salsa and Chips or Pita and Hummus?: neither Meat or Tofu?: Meat Soup or Salad?: soup Soda or Juice?: Soda Can I get you anything else?: You didn't get me anything..? :’) Favorite candy:: chocolate in general Favorite food to make: lasagne 

Food brand that you hate?: idk Do you try to buy all organic?: nope  Favorite fast food?: mcdonalds Final Questions Ever had a great song ruined for you after it was used in a commercial?: yes

Ever yelled at an SUV?: nope A Hummer?: Nope Ever faked being sick to get out of going somewhere?: yes If you could turn back time and change one thing, what would it be?: stay in college Bambi or Nemo?: Nemo List 3 things that are worrying you right now: 1, money. 2, a meeting I have to go to next week that im absolutely dreading. 3, I have this constant annoying anxiety that tells me my friends dont actually like me and that I get on everyones nerves.  Do you think you’ll ever have children if you don’t already?: not my own now, but I hope to adopt Do you think there is life on other planets?: no Have you ever broken a leg or arm?: nope Would you rather stay in the house or do things outside: depends on my mood David Letterman or Jay Leno?: I dont know who they are  Last words?: Bye

[metricanxiety]

for diamonds do appear to be just like broken glass to me

Genre: oneshot- idk. 

Pairing: Phan. (dan and phil in case you didnt know that already.)

AU: Highschool/sixth form. Whatever you prefer. 

Warnings: Swearing, underage ??, mentions to sex 

Summary: After two years of heartbreak, Dan ends up sleeping with Phil off a drunken decision, and old, unexpected feelings come back up. 

Author’s note: i am aware that this is really crap, but i am trying to improve, so please send me requests of prompts, hc’s, etc, because I will write them for you when I get the time. I’m kinda new to posting on tumblr sooooo. PLease keep this out of the main tags, (i.e danielhowell, danisnotonfire, amazingphil, philllester, etc) because i did not write this for them to see. If you are uncomfortable with mentions of gay sex/same sex relationships then im pulling a mannymua and telling you to please dont fucking read it. 

“Pretty pretty.” Phil kissed the dimple adorned on the boy’s cheeks, making them turn a deep crimson. It wasn’t often they could be alone, where it was just the two of them, and they could do whatever they wanted. Dan was completely content. He was wrapped in the arms of Phil Lester, the guy that he’d completely fallen for. And although they were only young, he could sense something really strong between them. 

Phil was warm, having his Adventure Time sweatshirt pulled over him, and a blanket draped over his legs. Dan rested comfortably between Phil's knees, back to his chest. The blanket, which they were sharing, was up to Dan’s chest, as he didn’t have a hoodie on. Phil’s arms crossed over Dan’s chest, with no plan of letting go. It was moments like these that Phil longed for. He couldn’t wait to have someone special to him, so they could be entertained just from the company of one another. And he finally had it. 

Dan couldn’t help but to think about how lucky he was in that moment. Normally, on Fridays, Phil would be off with friends, spending time with them, but due to a holiday trip, they weren't going to be doing anything all together this summer. Which meant Dan had Phil all to himself. 

Phil leaned down, pressing his lips to the skin poking out of Dan’s tee, and it may have been the cold, but Dan shivered under the touch. This was all new to him, he’d never been in a proper relationship before, or had anything romantically special with somebody before. So he was still growing accustomed to the constant affection, not that he didn’t like it, but everything was so new. 

Dan turned his head slightly, only to see Phil, resting his chin on his shoulder. Phil tilted his head to look at Dan, and they both smiled, bumping their noses together. 

It was Dan to finally close the gap, kissing Phil, just because he could. 

- 

When Dan was awoken this early morning, he wasn’t aware he had company. His eyes fluttered open when the rays of sun washed over his face, blinding him. The curtains were never closed the night before, because well, he didn’t even remember half of last night. The sun light lit up Dan’s bedroom, making the edges of his desk shine bright with the natural highlight accentuating the sharp corners. His plant drank up all the light it could get, as it never got much in the first place in it’s dark corner of the room. The pictures that littered his wall had a glare, making the faces unidentifiable, but Dan knew them well enough to know who was being blurred out. 

Dan’s hand formed a fist, and rubbed both eyes, as if it would help him wake up, wipe away his constant feeling of restlessness, but alas, it never worked. He yawned, leaning over to check his electric that sat on his bedside table. The numbers lit up in read told the brunet that it was half past six. Dan groaned, throwing the white duvet over his waist, as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, getting ready to be up for the day. A chill washed over his skin, giving his goose flesh up and down his arms, realizing that, yes, he was completely naked. Not a cloth bared on his back. 

Dan decided that maybe a few more hours of sleep would do, even though there was probably people piled in his downstairs level of his house from last night’s endeavors. They’d be okay for a little while. 

Dan was known for his awesome parties, that’s the only thing keeping his name high in the food chain at school. And lat night was special: the first party of their last year of sixth form. It had to be amazing, because there was now a countdown to the very last party of their secondary school life. Everyone knew Dan would do well with this important night, and judging on what he remembered, he nailed it. 

He tugged the duvet back up, flopping down onto his side, and was startled when he saw a body directly next to him, in his own bed. 

And it wasn’t just a random stranger from his class, no, it was Lucifer himself. 

Phil Lester. 

Dan couldn’t believe it, because holy fuck he actually gave into this bastards antics, after two goddamn years of rejection, Dan finally gave in. And he hated himself for it. 

You see, Dan never got on with Phil. At least, that’s what Dan told himself. When they were both sixteen, they had this fling over the summer, but they never took it farther than cuddling and holding hands. But, before school started, Dan thought he was finally with the guy of his dreams, but then dumped because friends got back from holiday. Specifically, Phil’s friends. 

Dan was so heart broken, he didn’t ever think he would be able to leave the safety of his bedroom ever again. He never thought that Phil, his Phil, would ever hurt him after what happened between them. Sadly, however, people make promises that the probably will not keep, which Dan had learned the hard way. 

Ever since, Dan watched Phil, seeing that he wasn’t the only rose petal being ripped apart by Phil’s hands, he wasn’t the only broken heart in the school. Poor, sweet, Liz Brekell, thought Phil was the love of her life after being asked out by him. She swooned over his exterior, and, even Dan admitted, was pretty fucking hot. Phil had muscles in all the right places, with straight, black hair that swept to the right, and his fucking smile, it definitely stole the show. But sadly, Liz was dropped for well, the net girl to drop to her knees. It was disgusting to Dan, that he too, had fallen for the scumbag called Phil Lester. 

Dan gasped, brown eyes met blue, one screaming out of horror, disgust, the other of smug, and satisfaction. Phil had a fucking smirk spread across his cheeks, and Dan tugged his duvet away, covering his modesty. Phi, however, didn’t budge. The look in his eyes began the memories to flood back into Dan’s mind. 

The alcohol, the kissing, the dancing, all the way until They stumbled into Dan’s bedroom, lips attached, zippers being pulled, buttons being ripped. Everything happened so fast, Dan felt as if he couldn’t breath. 

“Morning, sunshine.” Phil’s voice was deep, raspy from its lack of moisture, and the strum of his vocal chords was probably the most sexy thing Dan had ever heard in his entire life. And if he didn’t have self control, he would have melted in Phil’s fingertips right then and there. Instead, he built up his walls of defense mechanisms. Last night was a mistake, he decided. 

What Dan didn’t know, was that Phil thought it was hilarious that Dan hated him. He loved it, actually. Phil always liked a challenge. But when the rumors spread, about Dan and him, he was broken to have known Dan was no longer interested At least, that.s what Kyle Lockins said. So Phil did what any man would, moved on, and tried to make him jealous. He only succeeded at one of those things. He only really wanted the boy he had grown close to that one summer, the boy he kissed for the first time in the flatbed of his dad’s truck, under the stars of the country side. 

A true night to remember, one of the best nights of Phil’s life, and he let the precious diamonds slip through his fingers, mixing with sand after returning to the rocks he was used to. Dan shined brighter than any gem in the treasure chest of their student population. But Phil could never say that out loud. Picking up pieces of the diamond you lost is more difficult than thought. 

Phil shifted closer to Dan, trying to edge himself to the point of human contact, just to be able to touch him, but Dan had other thoughts. Dan did not want Phil any closer than the 38 centimeters they had between them, and ended up falling off the bed on the process. In some degree, Phil was hurt, but at the same time, he needed to take the situation in Dan’s perspective. He, as dd Phil, barely remembered last night, and was woken up to be naked in the same bed with the person he hated for two years now. He had to give the guy a little space. 

“Oh my g-” Dan couldn’t even finish his sentence, before covering his entire face with his hands. the duvet flopped down over his waist, but was still half on the bed, over Phil. Dan wasn’t a monster, so he left it. 

Phil too had his defense mechanisms, his just wasn’t as effective as Dan’s. He hid his emotions through flirting, being an asshole, basically turning into someone he isn’t. It was a barrier that very few people had broken down, but unfortunately for Dan, they built back up for him, without a realization he’d even torn them down. 

Last night, Phil didn’t even know how he convinced Dan to sleep with him, because any time Phil tried to get Dan’s attention, he’d get shot down. Fuck, he wasn’t even personally invited to this party, like everyone else was. (Phil had no idea how Dan had talked to so many people to invite them to a party, because usually the entire class, plus more showed.)

“Dan, let me-” Phil began, but was interrupted by a sudden jolt, seeing the boy that was in his arms not ten hours ago, hide under the duvet. 

“Just get your clothes and go.” 

His beautiful voice, in Phil’s opinion, was muffled by the thick fabric separating the oxygen into two. He could never have Dan like this again anytime soon, but had to respect his wishes. Phil rolled off the bed, sliding on a pair of boxers, followed by his jeans. He didn’t want to waste too much time, as the embarrassment of the situation was worsening by the second. 

Dan heard the door slam shut, and took it as the all clear. Well, not really. Nothing was cleared but his room. His mind had no source of ever being the crystal form of relaxation ever again, even if he only had that at rare times. 

He had just broken every single rule in his book. That is, he only had one rule, (never fall for Phil again) but he seemed to be having trouble with that. You may be thinking that two years must have been enough time for these two to recover, and get over the bridge of heartbreak, but their connection was so special, Dan thought about it all the time. Sure, Dan had dated a few guys since, but they all just seemed to be short, no longer than two month, flings. Phil was no different, the only thing keeping him out of this category is the fact that Dan and Phil were never dating. Phil was never Dan’s, and Dan was never Phil’s. Yet, it seemed to be the opposite at the time. 

The time Dan and Phil became a thing, Dan had just turned sixteen, and Phil brought him on a date as a birthday present. They’d been talking quite a bit before, but Phil thought this would be his big break with Dan. He was head over heels for the curly brunet, and only wanted him to be happy. He truly was the diamond in the rough in Phil’s eyes. 

He hadn’t kissed Dan until three weeks into the summer, when his dad finally let him borrow the truck. There was a scheduled shooting star shower happening that night, and it was the perfect setting to finally feel Dan’s lips against his own. Phil thinks about that moment every night, to this day. The electricity shared between the two could have lit up a city. And if I’m honest, things may have gotten heated, but Phil never pushed Dan. He was younger, and barely sixteen, and Phil was like, the third person to commit to him. (Dan doesn’t consider the other two important because he was so young.) 

Phil regrets every decision he made by the end of that holiday, however. His friends hated that he was spending too much time on a boy that wouldn’t last, so he kicked Dan to the curb. Rumors spread, and that was it. Yes, he did find it funny that Dan hated him, but there was always apart of him that wanted to prove to Dan that he wasn’t the piece of shit Dan had mad him out to be. 

Dan kicked himself, for he didn’t even remember the feeling of the touch of Phil’s lips against his own last night, Even though he didn’t plan on going back to Phil, he wouldn’t trade what they had for the world. Maybe he needed a reminder, how he felt with him, even if those feelings are no longer adamant. 

But for god’s sake, he fucking slept with Phil. He’d done something that his sixteen year old fantasies were based upon, and he barely remembers it. 

Dan threw his duvet back up onto his bed, walking over to the closet that held his clothing. He felt the same as he did two years ago. Betrayed. Used. Desperate. Feelings he hasn’t felt with anyone else, and he gets so drunk on it. The taste is so bitter, yet so addictive. 

Pulling up a pair of sweat pants, Dan thought he’d kick everyone out now, so he’d have the house to himself. He didn’t want to deal with his feelings, but pushing them away would only make then blow up in his face later on. He didn’t bother with a shirt, nor boxers, but it’s not like he wasn’t going to try and scrub off all of his shame in the shower in ten minutes. 

The minute Dan opened the door out of his bedroom, he regret every substance he allowed into his house. Because not only was there a pungent scent of alcohol lingering in the air, he could smell the weed that people decided to smoke in the living room, which meant he had to wash the fabric until it was gone. Fuck. 

Dan wasn’t really one to say no at parties, but everyone knew they had to at least ask. For example, the first time somebody brought alcohol, they asked Dan if he’d allow it, because it was his house after all. Until it caught on that yes, Dan wants you to bring all the alcohol your heart desires. Other questions consisted of if body shots were allowed, stripping, cigarettes, and now, I guess, marijuana. He doesn’t remember denying the question of weed, so he must have taken a drag last night. Usually he’d be against the whole ‘drug use’ thing, but when he’s drunk, his decisions can be unpredictable. Hence, the fact that he slept with Phil. 

There wasn’t as many people sleeping on his floor as he expected, making his job much easier to complete. He stepped up onto his coffee table, bringing his hands to cup around his mouth. 

“Everyone out!” He yelled. “My parents are on their way!” 

And yeah, he may have been lying, because his parents both traveled for a living, so he still had four days until they’d be home. It was the best solution to get people to wake up, and scatter. People thanked Dan as they headed out the door, a thanks for an amazing night and a night to remember, a party that can only be topped by the final one. He put on his most believable smile, giving brief, friendly hugs to the last of the fish in the sea that was his own home last night. 

The door clicked shut, and Dan immediately fell against the wall. His back slid down to the floor, and he pulled his knees up to his chest, as if he was protecting his heart from shattering, which, in some ways, he was. It took Dan so long to accept that Phil chose his friends over him, that now, it just felt like Phil was hurting him on purpose. He was slowly shattering into millions of pieces of heart break, all over again. 

Dan felt sixteen again, going through the same process of regret, and hurt, all starting with shame. 

He was really glad that last night was not the night he lost his virginity, because that would have made this situation even worse. Even though, that guy wasn’t all that great either. 

His name was Henry, and he was the person to comfort Dan in his mourning over Phil. And, Dan was brainwashed, thinking that some guys are better than the one he fell for, gave him everything he had, but not four weeks later, did the end things. Dan thought he was doomed ever finding any sort of real love. Because even though Dan had Phil for a few short months, he still felt something more than just attraction. 

He wished he remembered last night, to feel how Phil touched him, kissed him, felt him. How they connected in a way that they’ve never before, but both under the influence of alcohol running through their veins, making decisions for them before their minds could interfere with all the consequences that would follow. 

Dan just felt like crying, because all of his feelings for the boy who had taken him for granted were flooding back like tidal waves, and if he just hadn’t fucking slept with him everything would have been fine, you dumbass, I can’t believe you-

He dragged his feet back up the carpeted stairs, just enough to turn the tap on his shower. Dan hadn’t quite seen himself that morning yet, so the surprise bruises scattered around his neck was quite the scare he saw in the mirror. 

Hickeys were never something Dan liked, his neck was too sensitive for him to allow people near it, but well, Phil was an exception, he guessed. The marks were deep purple, fading into a red, then his skin tone. They were fucking dark. And they went from his neck, around his collar bones, to his V-line. The thought of having Phil’s mouth all over him made his skin crawl, and shiver. When he was sixteen, he dreamed of Phil’s mouth all over him, and now, after it happened, he only wanted more. 

Phil was always so talented with everything he did, especially kissing, Dan decided. His plump lips were always so smooth against Dan’s, and the one time he actually moved to Dan’s neck, he never left a mark. Now, his neck is sensitive, and his actual skin is no different. He was so surprised when Phil pulled back, leaving no evidence that he was even there. And god, did Dan want proof Phil actually kissed his neck. 

Looking at himself in the mirror now, was like a dream. This was his past self’s goal in life, to be marked up, claimed by Phil Lester himself. Dan had a sudden urge for more, to be covered in hickeys that Phil would have to suck and bite him to leave. Every sad emotion he was having before just turned- dirty. He wanted Phil to come back over, and have sex so they have something to remember by. It could be his teenage hormones, or it could be his crazy talking, but we all know it was both. 

It would have been so easy to just ring him back over, logistically, but Dan had literally kicked Phil out earlier, so he wouldn’t be surprised if Phil hated his guts now. Could he blame him though?

Suddenly, after two years of telling himself no, Dan was saying go for it, despite his rule. Because maybe this was his shot again. Maybe Phil wasn’t an asshole, and had actual reasons to break up with Liz and every other person to ever date him ever, maybe Dan was different. 

All this hype, and confidence, made Dan take the fastest shower he’s ever taken, because ohmigod he was actually going to do this, he was going to make the first move, he was going to invite Phil back over-

He was going to get Phil back. 

Just the though made the sixteen-year-old Dan squeal, and tap his toes on the floor out of impatience. He denied his feelings for Phil every day, and suddenly, his entire path changed. It took a complete 180, because he went from hating Phil with every drop of blood in his body, to trying to get him back. 

Even if it ended up only being sex. 

Dan couldn’t stop staring at himself in the mirror. The marks on his skin, he knew, would turn into some type of drug for him. He loved it. He wanted to look like this all the time. The feeling of being claimed really turned him on, which was, apparently, a kink he had discovered this morning. But it wasn’t just being marked up, and claimed, he wanted it to be done by Phil. 

A simple, comfortable outfit, would have to do for Dan, because, if Phil were to come over, he would need something easy to take off. Joggers and a t-shirt was the best he could do. And as Dan lunged for his bedside table to text Phil, tell him to come back over, he was notified that well, Phil had beat him to it. There were two notifications waiting to be read on his lock screen, both next to the simple name, of just Phil, no emoji, or anything to mark him as someone special. 

Dan- sorry for last night, i understand if you need some space, but i really need to talk to you 

text me if you decide you want to, i guess

Dan’s heart sank like a rock being thrown into the ocean, floating all the way to the bottom before being engulfed by the murky water, making the ocean floor not visible. Dan could’t just invite Phil over now, I mean, it hasn’t been forty minutes since Phil has left, and now things would be awkward, especially since Phil needed to apologize face to face, Dan thought that had to be the reason. 

Then the memory of Liz, having her heart ripped out, and thrown in the garbage, right next to her v-card, by Phil was drawn back into his mind. Liz, who cried for months over Phil, probably never got an apology. What Phil did to Liz, was probably going to happen to Dan, for the second time. 

The urge he had for Phil still remained, however. So Dan did what any person would do, wait it out. 

Phil, on the other hand, was also freaking out. He too, still had feelings for Dan, obviously, and he doesn’t even know how he finally convinced Dan to give him a chance. He thought that after they reconnected, (literally, in this case,) he wouldn’t feel guilty, and everything would be great, and Dan wouldn’t hate him any more than he already did. 

Except not really, they were both drunk and happen to hook up. It wasn’t really Dan giving him another chance, but more so, not saying no. 

Phil could see it now, the broken pieces were coming together, but only if he doesn’t fuck up like he did again. 

-

Phil scrambled for his phone, as he had left every conversation on do not disturb, except for the only person he cared to talk to, and his phone had finally chimed for the first time in two weeks. And it was exactly who he wanted. His beautiful diamond had finally shined over the sand again, and his was so grateful. Phil couldn’t get Dan off of his mind, because unlike Dan, Phil actually remembered that night with Dan more as time went on. And god, did he want Dan like that again. 

He remembered having Dan all laid out in front of his, and he only wanted to kiss him, mark him, because he knew Dan loved it. After two years of trying to get him back, (well, trying to get him to go out, but he was never good at expressing that, as in, he attempts to make Dan jealous) this could finally be it for him. Phil wanted to kiss Dan like he did when they were sixteen. 

He wanted to go back to that summer and change his decisions, so maybe he could have had Dan for as long as he wanted. Because even though Phil dated a few people, he never liked them, and appreciated them, as much as Dan. And they were purely to try and get Dan’s attention back on Phil. It never really worked. 

“Hello?” Phil slid the screen so fast, it may have seemed desperate to Dan, with how quickly he answered. 

“uh, hi, Phil. Look, I’m really sorry about kicking you out the other day, I was overwhelmed and I didn’t know what else to-”

Phil interrupted the sweet voice he had fallen in love with, even though he didn’t want to cut his time short from hearing it. “It’s okay, Dan, I came on too strong, and it was your house, you had the right to do it.” Phil exhaled. He seemed to talk faster and faster as his sentences dragged. Phil could hear Dan’s voice stutter, as if he was about to laugh, but held it back. 

“In the text you sent me, um, you said you needed to, um, talk?” Dan could barely spit out his words. This moment had him so anxious these past two weeks, he basically forced his hand to hit the call button. And even then, he nearly hung up immediately. 

Phil’s eyes lit up, because Dan actually remembered, but Phil didn’t. He couldn’t for the life of him remember what he needed to tell Dan. Of course, he could go with the plain obvious, and just fucking say how hopelessly head over heals he was for Dan, but there was something more, something that was perching on the tip of his tongue, but couldn’t quite spit out. 

“Phil? If you don’t have anything to say, then I should probably-”

“Wait, sorry, just, uh, can we, um, meet?” Phil stumbled. He got onto his knees to attempt to search for his shoes under his bead, eventually pulling out the worn black converse. He held the phone between his cheek and shoulder as he awaited a reply. 

“Like, now?”

“Um, yeah? If that’s okay?” Phil laced up his shoes, and shrugged on a light jacket- the England weather had turned quite shit, with rain being the most common in their area, oppose from the lovely sunshine they had a little bit ago. 

“I don’t know, Phil, I-”

Yeah, two weeks ago Dan was literally ready to have Phil back, but he was glad he gave himself time to think. Because maybe he didn’t want his fucking heart broken again, by the same person that ripped into pieces in the first place. He couldn’t make it that easy for Phil to just waltz back into his life.

“Please? I can be quick, i just don’t want to do this on the phone.” Phil took a deep breath, about to walk out the front door of his house, still not remembering what he had to say to Dan. 

“Fine.”

Phil cut the call, running out to his car, and speeding to get to Dan’s house. 

Dan hadn’t been to keen on letting Phil come over again, but he needed closure, and if having a cup of tea in the awkward silence of his living room meant closure, then so be it. The marks on his neck had faded drastically, but you could still see the ghosting of where there was one before. That wasn’t fun explaining to his parents. 

He really just wanted to take back everything that happened at the party, because it brought up old feelings that he really didn’t want anymore. Dan sighed, running a hand through his hair. What was Phil Lester doing to him?

Dan had his music on the speaker in the leaving room, trying to calm his nerves as he waited for Phil to arrive. And all that was running through his mind was  ohmygodwhy on repeat, but it was too late for him to cancel. He didn’t even know what to expect from Phil this time, if he was looking to just hook up again, or if he was going to apologize, he had no idea. 

Dan tried to distract himself, counting the freckles going up and down his arms, rearranging the cushions on the couch, changing his outfit for the billionth time, he just had to keep himself busy. 

Dan was feeling so anxious over this, he couldn’t stay still, so when he heard the doorbell, his jitters intensified, and he could barely walk to the door without stumbling. He yanked the door open and it looked like Phil was in the same state of him. 

He was wearing all black, and god, did he look so hot, in that form fitting t-shirt, and when he saw Dan, his smile was just so- calming, knowing that yeah, this is Phil. This is the Phil that he care for so deeply two years ago, he was standing right in front of him.The eye contact they shared, it made Dan feel like they were sixteen, both with very awful taste in clothing, inexperienced, and much shorter. 

Dan had forgotten how much Phil actually meant to him, as all he did was suppress the pain he went through when Phil left him.The only reason he didn’t grab Phil’s face, and kiss the life out of him, is the fact that Phil came here to talk. 

“Dan, I-” Phil started, but Dan flung the door open, letting him in. He didn’t want Phil to talk while standing outside, because A) its rude, and B) he didn’t want Phil to just be in and out. 

Phil smiled, walking in, letting Dan lead them to the couch. “Do you want some tea, or anything?” Dan asked, procrastinating this talk even more. Phil chuckled, grabbing Dan’s hands, and pulling him down onto the couch. Dan took a deep breath, trying to relax himself. It was just Phil. 

And that thought scared him. 

Even though he was looking at the Phil he fell for, two years ago, he couldn’t forget about all of the awful things he had done in the time between now, and when they broke off. He just wanted his Phil back.

 “Dan, I wanted to talk to you about what happened between us,” Phil started. Dan sat on one of his leg, so he could face Phil better. He sighed, running a hand through his curly hair.

 “It was a mistake, Phil. We were both drunk, and our bodies did things before our minds could inter-”

“I wasn’t really talking about that. I meant, um, two years ago.” Phil gave a small smile, and Dan’s face fell.

 Dan didn’t really like talking about him and Phil a whole lot, he didn’t want to remember what he felt for Phil, so his solution was to just not say anything about it with people. He hated remembering how happy Phil made him, because it only made him feel responsible for all the shitty feelings people had when with Phil, even though he had no reason to feel that way.

 “Oh.”

“Yeah. I just, I couldn’t stop thinking about you after I made the clearly wrong decision. You were always on my mind, everything I saw reminded me of you, and it was like anything just screamed ‘Dan Howell’ to me, and it honestly was destroying me.“But I couldn’t just go back to you, no, my fucking choice was to try and make you fucking jealous, and end up hurting you more, and I was hurting others because I just, it didn’t feel the same. 

“Now don’t get me wrong, I loved the fact that you hated me. I have no idea why, it was just, I don’t know, I found it so hot that you didn’t like me, or some god awful reason, and it was like a challenge for me to win you back.” Dan’s frown was slowly turning into a smile. 

Phil wasn’t even looking at him as he spoke, but his hands were moving all around, expressing so much passion into this conversation as he rambled. Dan couldn’t believe that this was all about him, Phil was talking from his heart, and he was falling for him all over again.

 “And I thought I was over you, I really did, but when you started dating someone, it would make my skin crawl.” Phil laughing slightly when Dan did, and Dan moved a little closer to Phil, laying his arm across the back on the couch, as if he had his arm around Phil, without touching him. “I couldn’t even imagine somebody holding you under the stars like we used to do, because I was supposed to be the person doing that. I was supposed to be the person holding your hand in the car as Muse blasted through the speakers, I was supposed to be the person running my fingers through your hair when you were stressed, and couldn’t deal with anything else. I hated the fact that I had taken the connection we had for granted.”

Dan blushed, looking away from Phil. His words were magic, and he could tell Phil had thought about this a lot. Phil grabbed Dan’s hand, bringing his attention back to him. And Dan let Phil hold his hand, something that Phil thought he would never be able to do again. His slightly calloused fingers slotted perfectly into his, and he swore he felt sparks when they touched. 

“And then we fucking slept together. We slept together, Dan! I barely remember anything, but I knew I had convinced you, I had kissed you, and I hate myself for it, because I didn’t have the guts to tell you how much I fucking like you sober. Because I do, god, I do. And I just, I’ve wanted you back since that summer. Since our summer had ended.” Phil had moved himself so they were almost on top of each other. Dan’s mind was racing, everything he had just said made him want to cry. Nobody had ever spoken about him that way, and the feeling was so indescribable.

They sat there, remaining eye contact with one another, hand in hand, processing the feeling just exchanged, and Dan did it. He launched forward, smashing his lips against Phil’s, nearly knocking him over. Phil responded immediately, letting go of Dan’s hand, and bringing them to his back. Dan brought his hands around Phil’s neck, and pushed him, so he was laying on top of Phil. 

Both of them laughed, when they separated for air, bumping their noses together. Phil leaned back up, pressing their lips together. They had forgotten how amazing their kissing was, electricity was flowing through their bodies, sparks were flying, because fucking finally, they realized hoe meant for each other they were. Their lips moved together as if it were natural, like they were made to do this together. 

-

“Are you sure it’s tonight?” Phil asked, he hugged his hoodie closer, as Dan practically dragged him to the pickup truck in Phil’s driveway. Dan rolled his eyes, throwing the blankets into the flatbed. 

“I promise. Now c’mon, I don’t want to miss it.” Dan threw the keys at Phil, who caught them with surprise. 

Today was the day Dan was supposed to throw the last party of sixth form. Everything was planned as well, Dan’s parents were out of town, again, Phil had helped spread the word, and they had a shit ton of food. But when Dan found out about the meteor shower happening, he dropped the party like a hot cake, and was dragging Phil out to the county at eleven p.m. 

They were relaxing on the couch, with Dan’s head in Phil’s lap. Dan was paying attention to the anime on the telly, but Phil had his eyes on the iPhone game, while the other hand played with the curly locks of the boy he loved, when Dan suddenly sprang up, remembering the exact reason he had cancelled his party that night, why they were at Phil’s house instead of Dan’s, and dragged Phil out the front door, leaving the warmth behind, and entering the bite of the cold outdoors, even though it was June 

Phil didn’t mind though. The only thing he cared about was the beautiful diamond that he had to hold in his arms tonight, because he finally collected all the pieces he had lost. It was nice to call Dan his after so long of a disconnection, he’d do anything for his Dan. And if that meant going out to sit in the middle of nowhere to see shooting stars that probably won’t be very visible, then he’d damn well do it. He’d do it just to see the little crinkles in Dan’s face when he smiled, the sparkle in his eyes when he’d finally see what he was looking for, or the way he’d get jumpy, and excited during times leading up to plans. It was Phil’s favorite. 

As Phil drove, he realized that he lived for these moments with Dan, he couldn’t imagine his life without Dan by his side anymore. All his future plans revolved around him,(but Dan didn’t know that) Dan was the actual reason of his existence. Just the thought of not waking up in the morning and not having his usual ‘good morning, love’ text from Dan made his face fall. 

Phil really didn’t know what he was missing out on during their two year gap. 

But all that mattered now, was that he was heading out to go watch the stars with his favorite person on the planet, and he couldn’t have been more happy to say that. 

//hello hi this is the end. I really tried w this one, but i didn’t like the end result as much as i hoped, sorry the quality went to shit after the first bit lol. tanks for reeading :) also the theme didnt really keep up but its whatever im sorryyyyyy

[twdmusicboxmystery]

2017 Re-Watch: 5x03 - Four Walls and a Roof

Okay, weirdest thing ever but I don’t seem to have done a rewatch post for 5x03 last year. I have no idea why. I couldn’t find it on my Tumblr account, and though I must have just accidentally deleted it. But I went back through my IG account, and it isn’t there either. So I don’t know if I just forgot and skipped that episode, or decided not to because I didn’t see anything important in it (that doesn’t sound like me and I don’t remember thinking that or anything) but it’s definitely not there. So this isn’t a repost, but a new one, simply because I don’t seem to have anything to repost for this episode.

Luckily, the events of this episode are pretty straight forward. Bob is returned to TF, legless, and he dies. And TF kills the Termites. That really is pretty much everything that happens in this episode.

It’s kind of the epitome of the TF’s brutality arc. There’s some brutality before, and there will be more after, but this is the pinnacle of it, and I am seeing ties between this episode and 5x16, where the brutality arc more or less ends.

On that subject, I think the title, and how they relate it to the episode is interesting. After they kill the Termites (very brutally) Father Gabriel emerges from the back room and says, “this is God’s house,” implying that such atrocities shouldn’t be committed there of all places. Then Maggie replies, “No. It’s just four walls and a roof.” I think that goes well with the brutality arc. The sacred places are being violated, and TF as a whole is in a very dark place/frame of mind. I also can’t help but see it as the religion being taken away from TF, by their own actions. And Beth, the epitome of Christian symbolism, is taken from them only four episodes later. Just saying.

Okay, let’s get going.

Gareth talks about the glass breaking eventually (Broken Glass Theory) and about how “nothing lasts anymore,” which I think is also an overall theme for the show. This is why none of their communities will ever last forever. Something will always happen eventually to make them fall. *coughs we never saw the downfall of Grady*

He also gives a bear analogy to explain why they’re cannibals. I’ll have to think on that some more. I know we’ve seen some very subtle bear symbols, specifically in S7. Perhaps we should have been tying them back to Terminus, but I don’t think we ever did. We just noticed the recurrence. Hmmm.

Sasha’s line to Father Gabriel stands out to me here. “You show up, we’re being watched, and now three of us are gone." 

The three was what really caught my attention. I’ll have to talk to a few of my fellow theorists about it, but it seems to me there have been theories about three major deaths before Beth’s return. A few possibilities occur to me here. It could have foreshadowed the rest of S5. We saw Bob, Beth’s, and Tyreese’s deaths here. And notice that she doesn’t say three of us are dead, but three of us are gone, which parallels, "She’s just gone.”

In S7 we also saw three big character deaths (Glenn, Abe, Sasha) and Sasha even says three of “us.” Also we have three missing characters right now: Beth, Heath, Sherry. So this definitely could foreshadow a lot. Not to mention, almost right after she says this, Bob is returned to them (proxy for Beth) and it follows some whistling (Whistle Theory) which foreshadows the Saviors who did the epic whistle in 6x16 just before Negan appeared.

I also think there’s a definite parallel between Sasha nearly attacking FG in this episode bc she doesn’t know where Bob is, and her actually attacking him in 5x16. 

In both cases, they’re in a church, both in a lot of pain, and both dealing with a lot of guilt. I think it probably shows the beginning and ending of an arc, which is why the mirror scenes. Starting in 6x01, we first see Gabriel actually being helpful to TF, rather than a hindrance. And we see a lot less anger and brutality from Sasha. Incidentally, 6x01 also kicks off Sashraham. Once she’d moved past this immense anger and guilt (which starts here with Bob’s death) she was able to move forward in a romantic relationship with Abraham.

Other great, thematic dialogue:

Rick: “We’re not going anywhere without our people.” He says several variations of this, talking about not wanting to leave Daryl and Carol behind. He says unequivocally that they’ll be back. That they don’t leave people behind. Perhaps a foreshadow that, later in S5, they’ll leave SOMEone behind?

Abraham: “Come noon, we’re taillights. (Taillight Theory) Not waiting for the other shoe to drop.” (Lost Shoes Theory). Lines like this just make me smile.

We see a heavy connection between Sasha and Ty as siblings, which is super important as we head toward the missing stuff after Coda, followed by Ty’s death.

Ty talks about how he knows what Sasha is going through because of Karen. He says, “forgiveness is facing it,” which I think is really beautiful, especially in light of The Grove. Sasha completely rejects the notion, though, and this is the beginning of her anger/brutality arc.

Some random details: We see red carpet prominently in the shot where Gareth and the Termites enter the church. Foreshadow that they’re about to die.

There’s a sign I love that it shows next to Eugene during this part. It reads, “Stupidity is also a gift from God but one mustn’t misuse it." 

Makes me laugh. I think it’s a funny reference to how stupid the Termites are being. They totally fell for Rick’s leaving-the-church fake out. Could also be a foreshadow for Eugene. He stupidly decides to "become Negan” in S7.

Gareth has some foreshadowing for TF here as well. “You don’t know what it’s like to be hungry.” This was fulfilled in 5x10 when they had to go so long without food before eating the dogs. But I really like this because it shows that even when they were subject to the same things Gareth and the Termites were, they didn’t become the monsters they were. Aaron even comments on it in 5x11 saying that he was impressed the group never turned on one another, despite their hunger, desperation, and being surrounded by monsters.

The clock in Bob’s room. This is super important and I’ve been talking to some fellow theorists about it. It reads 8:40, which points to something in episode 8x08, which will be the MSF finale of this coming season. Now, on the surface, that doesn’t make much sense. Both Bob and Sasha are dead now, so what’s this pointing to?

We think it has to do with the whole “good out of the bad” game that Bob and Sasha always played. They made a big deal about that game. The last thing Sasha says to Bob is, “what’s the good that comes out of this bad?” Meaning his death. Bob dies before answering, so Sasha is left to wonder and grieve.

At the end of S7, we can see that one good thing that came directly from Bob’s death was Sasha sacrificing herself for TF in 7x16. This is another cause and effect thing. Her anger everything led to her relationship with Abraham. His death led to her mission to kill Negan (it’s way more complicated than that, and there’s way more detail, but I’ll probably give it its own post later). Because of that, she gave them a chance to fight another day.

But I’m wondering if there’s more to it than that as well. Maybe we’ll finally understand something in 8x08 that will make Sasha’s entire arc resonate in a way it hasn’t yet because we don’t yet have all the missing information. In other words, I think Sasha’s question here will be answered in 8x08. Just a theory, though.

Also important to note that 8x08 will be exactly 3 seasons since Coda, so it could point to a Beth thing as well. 

I also want to point out that in this pic, there’s a cross, and what looks like an egg shaped stone holding a page open on a bible. All kinds of biblical symbolism going on there. Including, perhaps, an Easter egg?

I realized a major pattern from this episode: no one ever “puts down” their romantic partners. In this case, it was a conscious decision. Ty didn’t want Sasha to have to stab Bob in the head, so he did it for her. In other cases, it was largely out of the characters’ hands. Rick didn’t put down Lori. Neither Lori nor Andrea put down Shane. Rick also didn’t put down Jessie. Ty certainly didn’t put down Karen, nor she him. And of course Sasha’s love interests both died before her, so Maggie and Jesus put her down. Don’t know if we could tie that to Beth (we don’t think anyone put her down, so it’s kind of a moot point) but just something interesting that occurred to me.

Important to note that Bob and even the Termites get a burial. We first see the D.C. map here, which is an important symbol and will eventually bring Morgan to TF.

Finally, @boltthrutheheart pointed out an interesting detail from the end to me. Rick asks Ty how it was for him, getting to Terminus. Ty replies, “It killed me.” A very sad line, and to me, definitely a foreshadow of his death. Everything that happened on the way to Terminus (Lizzie, Mica, Martin, and now Bob) contribute to his guilt and he muses on them while dying.

Actually, now I’m writing this, something else occurs to me. The only two aspects of Ty’s hallucinations that DON’T occur between the prison and this moment with Rick are the Gov and Beth. The Gov is about Ty’s roots and reaches all the way back to S3, along with numerous other arcs that are still going right now. But how does Beth fit in? She’s kind of the one odd thing in that hallucination that doesn’t entirely fit. At least, not as well as the others.

To me, it’s just more evidence that things happened we haven’t seen yet.

But anyway, the other thing @boltthrutheheart pointed out was that Tyreese refusing to change led to his death. And he even proclaims it here, as though he’s having a premonition or something. “It killed me.”

In Beth’s time with Daryl, she proclaimed over and over again that she deserved to be alive. That she had changed. “I made it.” “I am strong.” “I’m getting out.” So it becomes an anti-parallel and in many ways an anti-foreshadowing. Great catch!

Okay, I think that’s it for this episode. Anyone have anything to add?

[helmes-deep]

Quickie LONG UPDATE!! (on my life lol)

I FINALLY GOT THE RESULTS BACK FROM A $300 teachers’ test and I PASSED WOOOOOOOOOOT HAHAHA I’M SO HAPPY $300 NOT WASTED LOL *CRIES*

Well, at least for my state. Who knows if I’ll ever have to take that horrendous thing again should I ever choose to move to another state or get back into the teaching profession after having left for a bit... Granted, I didn’t get the score I think I was truly capable of (I totally last-minuted this whole thing and stayed up for 72+ hours finishing it lol PLEASE PLEASE DON’T EVER BE LIKE ME AND PUT YOURSELF IN A POSITION WHERE YOU HAVE TO STAY AWAKE FOR 3 DAYS STRAIGHT TO FINISH A FINAL THAT IS MY LIFE ADVICE), but I did pass it based on the score required by my state, so I honestly couldn’t be any happier. All that’s standing between me and getting a real job now is waiting for my university to finally award me my degree in a few weeks so that I can apply for a teacher’s certificate and finally get to do what I can’t wait to start doing again – teaching!! 🌠 💖 😄

In other news, I actually survived! and completed!! my student teaching; it all actually officially ended in the middle of last month. After my student teaching ended, I focused on finishing up final tests/projects (including that $300 test) before graduating with a bachelor’s degree in English Education from my uni about 2 weeks ago. Since then, I’ve been applying for jobs and hoping for an offer soon, hopefully at a high school!! Thinking back over my college experience, I wouldn’t say it’s been a really “crazy” four years (except for this year LOL. Man, these past two semesters were WILD and took SO MUCH out of me. I still get super-exhausted thinking about how I got through my student teaching N E V E R  A G A I N HAHA :V). I’ve never been the group’s social butterfly, even though I highly crave social interaction and approval/feedback (not in a desperate sense, but I know I’m the type of person that needs social interaction in order to thrive, even if I might not be the one to initiate it). I have, however, learned a little about a lot of things, especially during this past year and semester LOL AGAIN: N E V E R  A G A I N HAHA :VVV and especially, I think, in regard to myself. As a teacher, I’ve learned that I suck at classroom management. I’m just way too laissez faire, which comes off as “too nice” and therefore just allows any group of your regular hormonal and rebellious-leaning teenagers to go bonkers and take over my class lawl. Hopefully that changes *very* soon once I get my own classroom (and I’m working on it!!), but looking back, I suppose I could have been a bit more firm about keeping my presence (it also doesn’t help that I’m like 5′3″ lol!!). As a general person, I have also learned that I SUCK at making and keeping social discourse lol. Like, not just suck at it, but suckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk haha. First, not having a phone really makes it hard to make or keep in touch with any friends that a person intends to make. With a lack of a personal device or one of your basic social media accounts, I realized how hard it was to maintain a social network within a very digitally-connected world. Second, I realized that I’m probably a lot more cautious, super-conscious, introverted, and a bit inexperienced than I perhaps originally thought I was. Like, if I was in high school, I recognized that I would probably have been the super-quiet kid who would have had a lot of trouble making friends in class. I then realized that a lot of these previously mentioned personality quirks were probably a part of what was keeping me from fostering more intimate relationships or developing a more leader-driven personality, which sometimes heavily affected my classroom management. I’m not saying I necessarily need to change as a person, but I do believe I need to find ways in which I can become more involved and confident. Ironically, I thought it was interesting to note that a lot of my personality was – though not intentionally – perhaps keeping me from finding that deeper social interaction that I previously mentioned craving.

All that being said, I am fairly proud of how far I’ve come and how much I’ve accomplished this year as a student teacher, especially considering this was my first time taking over a class (3, actually!!) after having never really been inside a high school since I was homeschooled from 7th to 12th grade. I am, however, really proud of how I tried as much as I could to put the students with whom I was working with first, including incorporating their interests and academic needs/desires. I know my experience as a student teacher was not perfect, but I am very glad I got to work through all the challenges that came with and almost die doing it. I’ve also definitely found a bit of who I want to be as a future teacher. I know I want to be someone who is able to successfully make the classroom a place where my students can experience relevant life issues through writing or reading, and if nothing else, that had made this entire experience totally worth it.

... Which brings me to the future of this blog haha. Unfortunately, I don’t think I’ll be as active on Tumblr as I was before :c For one thing, I realized over the course of this year that Tumblr was definitely taking up way too much of my life lol (literally took me hours to get through 24+ hours’ worth of posts, and I was only following like 300 blogs). Being a bit OCD, I don’t like breaking my Tumblr cycle and only shuffling through a random number posts, despite the fact that I can’t be up 24/7 lol; I just don’t like not getting the full picture on everything and acting on/reblogging things without all of the complete info. As a result, I would rather not break my 24/7+ Tumblr cycle than to start it again at all :c Secondly, I’m kind of sad to say that, as of recently, I haven’t been keeping up with K-pop as much as I used to. It’s not that I’ve necessarily lost interest in it (K-pop is still like 85% of what I listen to lol), but I certainly haven’t been keeping up with it as closely as I used to. For instance, I have no idea what’s going on with B1A4 right now, haven’t watched BTS’s new self-made MV for “Spine Breaker,” and haven’t gotten around to watching the last teaser for SEVENTEEN’s upcoming ALONE?? comeback (featuring our wonderful leader S.Coups :p). It’s not that I’ve completely dropped everything K-pop or have become totally disinterested; I still very much keep up with the latest comebacks and listen to whatever piques my interest. It’s just that I don’t know if I want to get so re-invested with all of the details surrounding K-pop again (tbh Tumblr gave me so much info on my favorite K-pop groups; I seriously regret missing all of the amazing shots of my biases’ beautiful faces that I’ve probably missed leol), or maybe I just need a good break from it all before starting again. Most likely, I’d say my small distance from my favorite pastime has mostly happened because I now have more things to do or think about atm haha, and just don’t really have any time right now to enjoy all of the K-dynamics that are happening behind the music. I don’t think I’ll ever give up listening to K-pop anytime soon though; like I’ve said before, I’m still very much keeping up with and enjoying whatever’s coming out right now.

Sooooo at this point, I’m not sure if I want to say I’m on a complete permanent indefinite hiatus yet. I still check Tumblr and my blog everyday – every now and then my dash – so it’s not like I feel like I’ve completely left Tumblr and the K-pop community on here as a whole... just yet :3 I have, however, thought about starting a side-blog that focuses solely on teaching, including my student teaching experience. I’ve also thought about writing some K-pop articles for this blog again... (I still really want to write that “Best K-pop Songs of 2016,” a review of B1A4′s third full LP, and/or similar pieces). Whether either of those musings will come into fruition over this passing summer, I don’t know yet, but I’ll keep you updated on either if I ever do, especially my educationally-focused blog. Aside from those thoughts, I’ve been planning on doing some extensive reading over the summer – with a goal to read a book a week! If any of you are interested and would like to check out what I’m currently reading and/or think about it, you can take a look at my Goodreads account here. Other than that, I’ve just been up to the usual: still practicing driving (hopefully I’ll get my license this summer!!), looking for a job, and chilling by watching some TV/movies :p (literally, when you become a teacher, EVERYTHING YOU WATCH BECOMES A POSSIBLE TEACHING TOOL WHERE YOU WONDER IF/HOW YOU COULD USE IT IN A CLASS HAHA. I’VE BEEN SPENDING MY BREAK WATCHING THE HARRY POTTER MOVIES AND I NOW PAY MORE ATTENTION TO HOW THE TEACHERS REACT TO ALL OF THE KIDS’ SHENANIGANS VS. HOW I WOULD PAY MORE ATTENTION TO THE MAIN CHARACTERS AS A KID LOL. I’d really love to be a Professor McGonagall or Snape someday :p). So as far as the current activity of this blog goes, I think I’m going to keep it at “temporary-hiatus-because-I’m-currently-in-a-heavy-transition-period-and-still-am-very-unsure-of-how-this-will-all-pan-out??” That sounds like it’ll do for now. I definitely don’t think I want to distance myself from Tumblr just yet, but at the same time, I don’t believe I’ll be able to be as involved with everything on it as I once was :ccc

Lastly, I’d like to thank everyone who’s stayed with me and this blog so far. With this current announcement, feel free to unfollow this blog if it is no longer what you require in your daily re-bloggin’ life; I completely understand and only wish you the very best~ 🌸 :3 I don’t have a lot of followers as a whole, but I do have a handful of very lovely and precious people that I’ve met on this site; you know who you are~  💖🌠🦄✨👌 Sorry for not keeping in more constant touch; I hope all of you and your beyond-wonderful blogs are doing well~ 💎🌟😊 For those of you who have just joined my blog – WELCOME, and I hope you enjoy your stay~  ❤️ On another note, I should probably get to all those things I was tagged in... if it’s not too late haha. I love y’all and hope nothing but the BEST awaits your future!!~

Snap that was really A LOT more than just a “quickie” update haha. I know that I probably should have updated on everything that’s been happening in my life much sooner, but honestly, I didn’t feel like anything merited me getting too excited about getting through this school year unless I had 100% confirmation that I had passed the $300 test lol (it’s called the edTPA btw, for anyone who might be curious :p). Without passing that test, I probably would have had to spend at least another $100 to re-take some parts of the test, which would have delayed my being able to apply for an eligible teacher’s certificate in my state, which would have dangerously hindered me from being able to teach at all. So thanks for your patience – both for reading this post and sticking around this blog long enough to see me write it :p Hopefully I’ll get a teaching position and figure this all out soon; until then, I’ll definitely keep y’all posted~!! ✨

[bts-dontknowher]

Surprise!

Taehyung x Reader

Word Count: 3,050

Genre: Smut, Fluff

After months of being away, Tae comes home to surprise you with a plan for the future :)

I'm fucking lonely. I'm done with school, I don't have a job, I just sit around my apartment waiting. It seems like all I do is wait because my boyfriend is so busy with work he's hardly here. I miss him like crazy when he's gone and this time has been the worst. I haven't seen him since February. IT’S AUGUST. I'm not upset. I don't miss him. I'm fine!!! IM FINE!!!!! It's 1:35 and I'm lying in bed, scrolling through Tumblr as I would in any Saturday night. That's how boring I am. That's how devoted I am to this boy that I haven't just broken up with him and found someone who's here all the time. But no, I'm thoroughly in love with him and I'm trapped. I need him to live, I- My phone started ringing in my hands and I groaned, answering. “Babe, you interrupted my inner monologue about loving you”, he laughed and I heard rustling on his end. “I'm sorry I missed you. I needed to hear your voice”, Taehyung whispered, making me pull my eyebrows together. “Why are you whispering?” I checked the clock, “isn't it like mid-day over there?” “Yeah, yeah just have to be quiet for stuff”, he coughed, “anyway, what's up?” I sat up and narrowed my eyes at my phone as I put it on speaker, “I'm just lying in bed as always. What are you doing?” There was more shuffling and I glared at it now, “Taehyung, are you being gross?” “What? No! No, that's not that I'm doing!”, he sounded so defensive. Liar. It was absolutely silent for an entire minute so I groaned, flopping back on my bed, “what country are you in again?” He ignored me, “go downstairs”. I got up and walked down without questioning it. He's had stuff sent to me before and he pays extra for the people to bring it late at night. It's probably a sex toy, because he's gross. “If this is another dildo, I'm cooking it in the oven”, I stopped when I saw a small box on the kitchen table, “Tae? What's this?” He laughed softly and urged me to open it, so I slowly walked over and picked it up. It's really small and rectangular, but it's definitely not jewelry, so he's not proposing. I put my phone on speaker and set it down, unwrapping the ribbon and opening the box to find a key, “a key? I already have a key to the dorm”. “It's not for the dorm”, he was whispering again, which made me nervous. “It's for us.” I screamed and turned around, dropping the box.

“FUCKING SHIT, TAEHYUNG!” He grinned and hung up, putting his phone in his pocket and walking to me, “I got us an apartment”. I was panting from being so scared, but he just kept grinning until I was cradled against his chest, “you gave me a heart attack”. “I thought I was being cute”, he backed up and pouted, “I wanted to surprise you”. I glared but nodded, “you did”. I picked up the box again and looked at the cute puppy design printed on the key, “this is so cute. What gave you the idea?” “I got us a puppy, too, but”, he got down on one knee and I rolled my eyes, “will you move in with me?” “Yes. Get up, dork”, he smiled as he stood, pulling me in by my hips and kissing me gently. “Well, let’s go see it”, he pulled on my arm but I stood still. “Go now? I'm in my pajamas!” “It'll just be us, baby”, he pouted, “please? I want to make love on our new bed after months of being apart. It'll be cute and romantic.” “Sex is tiring, Tae. You have practice tomorrow”, I sighed, shaking my head, “not tonight okay?” “PLEASE”, he stomped and crossed his arms over his chest, so I groaned, caving instantly. I walked past him upstairs muttering “let me go change” to which he clapped and cheered. Childish. I pulled on a sweatshirt and opted for jeans instead of these short shorts then jogged back downstairs. He looked at me and then smiled, but something was behind it, “we don't have to go if you don't want to, Y/N. I don't want to force you”. I held his face and kissed his nose a couple times, “I haven't seen you in months. I'll go wherever you want, Tae”. He pulled my hand until we were out at his car and then he opened the door for me, smiling adorably. I grinned and hopped in, waiting for him to do the same. He drove us to the new apartment building and then wanted me to close my eyes while he walked us up to our new apartment. Our apartment; I can't believe we're moving in together. He gave me the tour and I frowned as we got further into the apartment, “why didn't I get to pick anything out?” “Ah”, he laughed softly, “Jimin helped me pick things he said he knew you'd like. Since you guys are so close”. I lifted a brow and stopped in front of him, “is that jealousy I hear?” He lifted me by my legs and threw me over his shoulder, making me gasp and squeak. I screamed and laughed as I fell on the bed in the master bedroom, “you're crazy, Tae”. “Crazy for you, baby”, he winked, leaning over and pulling my sweatpants off, “I have to admit I'm a little jealous”. I watched him chew on his lip then he pouted, “you two are so close and sometimes it makes me think…” He shrugged so I sat up quickly, grabbing his face, “no, there's no way anything is happening. I love you, Taehyung; only you, always you”. He smiled so I kissed him, laying back after. “I love you, too, Y/N.” His hands fell to the bottom of my sweatshirt but I pushed them off, “I'm half naked, you take something off”. He shrugged and pulled his shirt off, tossing it to the floor. I went to touch, but his phone rang in his pocket, making both of us look toward it. He slipped it out and then sighed, backing up some, “I’m really sorry, I have to answer this”. I shook my head and forced a smile, sitting up as he walked out of the room. I looked around the room then frowned, pulling my knees up to my chest and hugging them. I know that work is important and I know that his job is time consuming and rewarding but I just… I wish I could just have one night with him. I sniffled and wiped my cheek, not realizing I’d started crying. I support him and I love him, but this is so hard for me, this is so stressful. It isn’t fair, I deserve love just as much, if not more, than the girls he performs for. “Y/N?”, I looked up and he looked devastated, which made more tears form. He walked over quickly and sat beside me, pulling me onto his lap, a knee on either side of his legs, “what’s wrong? What happened?” I shook my head and wiped my face with my sleeves, “I’m fine I just got caught up in my thoughts”. “Well what were you thinking about?”, I shrugged so he wrapped his arms around me, rubbing my back gently, “it doesn’t matter, Tae, let’s just get back to what we were doing”. “I don’t care about sex”, he sighed and stared into my soul, “is it me? Did I do something wrong?” “No.” I leaned down to his neck and kissed around sloppily, trying to remember the spot that he likes. He pushed me back so I just stared, crossing my arms, “baby we need to talk about this. You can’t just cry and then expect me to ignore it”. “I want to have sex, Taehyung. You’ve been gone for months and I missed you”, I looked down his body and licked my lips, “I missed a lot of things”. He was still for a few seconds then slid his hands up, dragging my sweatshirt up and over my head, his eyes falling to my chest, “bad girl…” I shivered when his fingers ran down my sides, they felt like ice, it was exhilarating yet also a little nerve-racking. I closed my eyes then felt him lean up, his lips brushing my ear, “If you don’t want to tell me why you’re upset, then I guess we’ll just lay here all night doing nothing”. I bit my lip but let it go with a sigh, sitting back with a slight nod, “I just felt…neglected”. “Neglected?” “Yes, because you’ve been gone for over 6 months and then you spring this amazing news on me and I’m so excited to live with you because I love you so much but then you got a phone call and I felt so second place, Tae. I know you don’t mean it and I’m being stupid, but I missed you and I need you to just be here with me right now”, I stared at him, exasperated, and he cupped my face gently, kissing my lips far too gently. “I turned my phone off, and left it in the other room so no one could interrupt whatever we decide to do”, he nuzzled our noses together and smiled that cute little box smile that I love so much, “you have my full my attention for the next week, Y/N. We can do whatever you want, and then I’m here for the rest of the year, well into next year, okay?” I felt more tears coming up and so I smiled, burying my face in his neck, “I love you, giant teddy bear”. We sat there for a few minutes and then I kissed his jaw gently, “so uh…sex?” “I think that’s a great idea”, he flipped us over and I giggled as I bounced back on the bed, “and I think because you decided that I wasn’t paying enough attention to you, I’m going to give you so much attention you’ll want to hide from people for weeks”. I rolled my eyes and stretched, looking up at him, “whatever you say, babe”. He grinned and leaned down, kissing my neck once then hovering his lips over my skin, “don’t give me an attitude”. “I’m not!”, he kissed my shoulder now, making his way down to my chest slowly. Why is he such a tease? His tongue pressed flat against my nipple, flicking it roughly then backing up again, “I hate you, Kim Taehyung.” He smiled and slid down the bed, running his nose along my skin as he went. I looked down and watched him kiss just above my underwear and then he bypassed that area completely and pushed my legs apart, kissing my inner thighs. His fingers pressed into my hips and he started sucking on a random spot, creating a hickey about midway down my thigh. “Can you just get on with it?” He shook his head and sat back on his knees, looking down at me as he rubbed my legs, slowly making his way up to where I wanted him, “there’s no fun in just getting straight to it, babe”. I squirmed under his gaze and pushed my hips up toward him, “yes there is! You’d be inside me and you’d love that”. “You won’t convince me. I have months to make up for”, he smiled, sliding my panties down and tossing them to the floor, “tonight will be special”. I sighed and relaxed back, closing my eyes and feeling him lean down again, kissing my leg again. “Are you just going to lay there until I fuck you?”, he mumbled, poking my stomach, so I nodded. “God, fine. You’re so impatient sometimes”, he sighed, getting up. I looked up at him and watched him unbuckle his belt and take his pants off. Our eyes even looked away from each other and he climbed back over me, getting himself comfortable between my legs. “Part of me wants to just get up and walk away”, he smiled when I pouted, kissing my nose, “but I can’t imagine walking away from this”. I pushed my hips up against his and groaned when I felt fabric covering what I wanted most, “come on, Tae, please. I’m already wet enough, feel”. I pulled his hand down between my legs and he looked down when his fingers found my clit. He pulled his boxers down and kicked them off, lifting my legs and kissing me, “I love you”. “I love you, too, Taehyung”, I smiled, closing my eyes as he pushed the tip of his dick against me. “Open your eyes”, he grumbled, rubbing instead of going in, “look at me while I fuck you”. “Don’t be crude”, I blushed as I looked up at him again, “don’t be gross”. He kept one hand on my thigh and move his other down, rubbing my clit slowly, “you’re right, sorry”. He thrust in hard, only stilling once he was fully inside me, and my back arched violently as I slapped his chest. He kept rubbing slow circles on my clit and pulled out to push back in sharply again. “Taehyung, wait”, he shook his head and started a slow pace, staring down at me with a smirk on his face. A few more slow thrusts and I relaxed so he grinned, moving his hand back to my other thigh and holding them tight. Lord, save me. He thrust quickly now, pulling me down each time to slam deep, not faltering for a second. I gasped a moan and threw my head back, begging him to slow down, but of course, he didn’t. “T-Tae, baby, please fuck”, his hips moved faster, his hands moving up to my hips then he pulled me up suddenly so I was on his lap, his dick fully inside me. I shuddered and grabbed his shoulders, staring at him through hooded lids, “w-what?” “I just wanted to be closer to you”, he wrapped his arms around me and rolled his hips up as he kissed across my neck and chest, “you feel so good”. I moaned softly and pushed him down on the bed and sitting up, “you’re something else coming in here and teasing me like this”. “Are you going to make me pay for being so mean?”, he pouted but the smirk was still there. I rolled my eyes and put my hands on his chest, moving up and down slowly, yawning jokingly to mess with him. I got faster without warning and he groaned, grabbing my hips and biting his lip. Perfect. I brought my hands up to my hair and started moaning loudly, and unbelievably fake, bouncing on his cock, “oh, Tae!” He groaned and lifted me off of him, making me pout until he turned me over and got up on his knees. He pushed my face down into the bed and grabbed my hips, pushing back in me slowly, “bad girl”. He was moving slow, too slow, so I pushed back into him, whimpering, “more, please”. “More?” He rubbed my hips then stilled, adjusting some, “more it is then”. His hips were like pistons, thrusting so fast and into that perfect fucking spot. I moaned weakly and pushed my face into the pillow, groaning when he laughed. Ass. I felt my stomach tighten, I felt my toes curl, but I held out, getting up on my hands and moaning his name. One of his hands went to my ass, grabbing and smacking it roughly, “you feel so good baby. Six months without you, I don’t think I’ll last”. He thrust harder and I gasped, pushing back into him and biting my lip to shut up. I felt myself tightening around him and he groaned, panting out the sexiest sounds I’ve ever heard. I squeezed my eyes shut and fell down to my elbows, “T-Tae, I-I’m close please”. He pulled out and turned me over again quickly, leaning down and kissing me as he slid back in. I moaned and wrapped my arms around his neck, loving the feeling of his body against mine. He pulled back slightly and our eyes met, making me whimper, “don’t look at me like that”. He smiled and his eyes fell shut as he worked us both toward our orgasms; just a little more. I wrapped my legs around his waist to pull him closer and he rammed against my g-spot again, making my back arch and my chest to press against his. “Taehyung!” He groaned and buried his face in my neck, his hips moving faster as I tightened around him. I moaned loudly, a mixture of his name and yes and fuck, and my nails dug into his back, which egged him on. “Fuck, Y/N. Keep doing that”, he moaned, slowing his thrusts to help drag out the pleasure as long as possible. I came down, panting and leaning up to kiss his neck, which was hard. He shivered and kept rolling his hips so I smiled, biting his earlobe gently, “come inside me, Tae. I miss how it feels”. His grip tightened on my hips and he jerked with each shot of his release, groaning and grunting lowly. I could only hear him because his mouth was right at my ear, he’s always too quiet. I laid back and hummed as panted and looked all over my face. “I’m sorry that I’ve been so busy”, he sighed, sniffling quietly, “I promise when I go away I’ll be better about being there to talk any time you need it”. I held his face and smiled, kissing him slowly before laying back again, my fingers drawing lines on his cheeks, “you’re perfect, Taehyung. And the amount of attention you give me is more than enough. I just got upset because I’m needy and annoying”. He pouted so I grinned, kissing him again. “I love you, Y/N. I’ll always love you.” He kissed all over my face and I giggled, moving my hands to his shoulders, “I love you, too, Tae. Now get off me”.

I’m pretty sure this one wasn’t up before but I can’t remember because I suck :)

-Churro

[livefastdiepretty723]

reasons.

THIRTEEN REASONS WHY…well it ended up being 14

If I had to list thirteen 14 reasons, may they be events, people, or things as to why I committed suicide would I? Do I have to give an explanation as to why I did it; do I owe everyone around me an explanation? If I did it, especially in the mindset I’m in right now I wouldn’t give a flying fuck about giving any one an explanation.

I’ve watched the Netflix series, it definitely made me think and wonder what would happen if my thoughts drove me to actual do it. I’ve thought about it many times, in many different ways. I’ve tried but haven’t been successful. Let that sink it, it might come as a shock to some of you, and others it might not. I don’t communicate my feelings a lot because I don’t want to be a burden,  I usually get the urge to spill my guts at 2-3 in the morning, I get told I’m being ridiculous and things aren’t that bad (yup, my own mother told me that once… this was after asking for therapy which she used to drag me to when I wanted nothing to do with it… and was later diagnosed with clinical depression), or the worst thing you can tell someone (in my opinion) is it will get better, I’m still waiting it’s been years and hasn’t gotten better.

In no particular order, here are my reasons.

Miranda; my ex best friend (that’s if I was ever really your friend)

You manipulated me like a puppet, used me for whatever would benefit you and lied to me about so many things. Hell you forced me into having sex with someone when I didn’t want to. I don’t like to think about that, and if you ask me most of the time I claim that another guy was my first time. Must have been hard to keep up a lie, you didn’t live in the house that you were dropped off at by the bus, you lived in the trailer park next door to it, the guy that owned that house dated your mom, you constantly bullied your mom for money and to get your way. I should have realized this early on, but I was stupid and didn’t want to believe it. I knew better, instead of saying something I started acting like that too. But guess what, that shit didn’t fly in my house. I got in trouble or I had to work for the money I wanted.  I’m glad I got away from you, you were toxic. If I hadn’t I probably wouldn’t have made it through high school, and definitely not to the four year school I graduated from.  I would love to delete our friendship from my life, it hurt me mentally and emotionally, it hurt my education, and I shouldn’t have been friends with one of the biggest bullies on the school bus.

The school bus bullies (I don’t care to remember most of their names, but I know the faces when I see them out.)

Sorry my teeth weren’t proportionate to my mouth for the longest time. Excuse me for having glasses and braces.  Now my teeth are straight and I constantly get compliments on my smile (if and when I smile, I’ve got frown lines versus smile lines). I loathe wearing glasses out of the house because of the stigma you gave me about glasses. Sorry I didn’t have a boyfriend in middle, or high school and I wouldn’t settle for some random guy I wasn’t remotely attracted to. But guess what? That gave you no right to call me a lesbian.  Sorry I have smaller breasts, still do now.  But when you all have saggy breasts because you have bigger boobs than me, mine won’t be as saggy. I kept to myself but that made me stupid or whatever else you decided to call me.

Brett

You lying sack of shit, was anything you ever told me the truth? You let me look like a fool for way too long. I cared, but I doubt you ever did. Was it revenge from how our friendship started because I picked someone else to date but remained “friends” with you? I ended up dating you, hooking up with you too soon and believing the lies. I guess I’m the dummy here. I cared about you; I spiraled into a depression at the hand of your lies. Your lack of communication that you blamed on the military (yes, I get there are times when it’s few and far between…but not when your stateside), you promising to come out for Easter and then going ghost and never showing up.  My pining for a liar like you, whom I was asked how I’d find out if something happened to you (because the last time I spoke to you, you were deploying, did you really? Or did you just pcs to Germany? I’ll never know but I wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire). I found out, well my tumblr friends and I found out. I emailed your wife, who didn’t want to believe what I told her. Only to admit a few days later that you had indeed done this before.  I guess I was the lucky one, the one that wasn’t married to you. But my trust in men, shot to shit along with my belief in love.

Ryan

Mister you could stand to lose a few pounds, why didn’t I turn run and collect two hundred dollars for passing go? Oh that’s right my bloody ability to have to see the best in the worst people.  Yes, we hung out once… And a few weeks later he tells me that on the phone.  I stuck around for a whole deployment… Only to be told hey this isn’t going to work out. And then asked well I’m going to be back home we can hook up when I’m in town… EXCUSE YOU? HELL TO THE NO NO NO NO. And that was the end of that, but that douchebag comment did send me into a work out and weigh loss craze.  Which lasted for 2 ½ or 3 years until I fell off the wagon which was around the time I went to the ECU/Navy game and hurricane Sandy caused it to be too cold and rainy for me to find the motivation to go to the gym.

John

The artist formally known as dude… I hate that I’m putting you on this list, because I can honestly say I love you. I’m always going to love you. I had never really put my heart before my head until you. You received me, after all the aforementioned shit dented and dinged me. I began to believe in the idea of love again, I felt comfortable in my own skin around you. I saw a future with you, regardless of your flaws and quirks. I fought for years to win that title with you but guess what never came? That title you passed me up for LYDIA. (Her name makes me cringe, I know about her but does she know about me?) I could out you and your secrets (not just me but your other escapades) to her, but you know what keeps me from that? The fact that you’d completely cut me out of your life if I did. We haven’t spoken in months, I thought when I started seeing Matt again I was over you and that was the beginning of the end of the communication. You told me you loved me, did/do you? I said it but I meant it, even though you might not deserve it. You told me you’d always be there for me, are you? I’d take a bullet for your ass, I’ve walked thorough a mental hell because I care about you, I can’t seem to move on because I care about you. I’m reminded of you constantly, if I have a bad day do you know who I want, you. I’ll always love you but I’ll always hate that you did me the way you did, picked her over me, kept me around and told me I had competition (when it wasn’t even a fair one).

Andrea

Yup, you’re here on this list too. But it makes me the bitter single girl for doing it, doesn’t it? You talked about me being mad at you behind my back when you could have confronted me about it mere feet away. I’m not mad at you for having a boyfriend, but I’m damn fed up with you constantly talking about him, you and him and nothing else. Hell NO one can talk about anything else in their lives without you switching the conversation topic back to you.  Before Christmas I would have loved to have heard more about Lindsay’s upcoming trip to Europe.  The late(almost a month late) birthday lunch I would have really enjoyed talking about Staci’s baby and her new house, nope. I’ve heard the story about BJ’s and how his mom doesn’t tip well one too many times. It was cold, I was tired, I dreaded going to work and I knew I’d hear the same stuff sorry I looked miserable.  I can’t say anything because I’m being bitchy or the spiteful single girl. It makes me uncomfortable. I feel as if I’ve lost a friend, I feel like I can’t communicate with you like I used to, I can’t just on whim ask if you wanna go shop or grab dinner. I’m second fiddle. I don’t understand it, I’ve never been one to completely absorb myself in a man, I still make time for friends.  And that “so much for a best friend” comment really hurts.  I’m here, quiet and battling my own inner demons but I’d still like to be your friend but it seems as if I don’t matter.  

The douche canoes that yelled “you’re too fat to be that tan”

Grow up, and think before you speak. Some people can let that roll off their shoulders after the initial sting has gone away.  I’m not one of those people, I dwell on it. Hell you said that when I was on the way to me being the smallest I’d ever been.  So you would have loved to yell something like go eat another Twinkie fat ass to me a few months ago, when all these people kept asking me “are you expecting?” , “when are you due” etc…. NOT COOL either. I dwell on this shit, I take it to heart, it hurts.  I have little to no self confidence, and people wonder why.  If this list hasn’t revealed part of why… then you need to re-read it.

My parents

You had no problem dragging me to therapy in late middle school/ early high school. Grounding me left and right, and telling me that I was being a baby for crying.  Expressing verbally emotional shit isn’t my thing I still suck at it, to this day so yes there will be tears, get over it.  When I was still on your health insurance I thought it was the proper thing to do by asking if I could go to therapy. Because one I couldn’t afford it on my own, and two it was your insurance. I got told I was having a bad day or week, with you knowing full well I was diagnosed clinically depressed?  My dad favors my brother, and gives him whatever he wants, it hurts.  I have to bust my ass and plead my case for stuff.  And this past Christmas (Christmases are hard for me, it brings out the worst in my depression…) my mother telling me that my want to die was ridiculous and that I needed to stop. I’m not being ridiculous, its how I feel. Waking up and living is a chore, it shouldn’t be that way. I rarely enjoy life.  And yes I love sleep and I value it, but I’d think most people would realize it’s not ok to stay in bed all day. One day I might not find the will to live anymore and you’ll find me dead in bed.

Kayla

I’m your convenience friend now. I won’t fight for a spot in your life anymore. Either you want me around or you don’t. Friends don’t get too busy for other friends.  And friends don’t make other friends feel lesser because of some of the things you’ve made me feel that way about.  If your still mad about the beach, I’m not apologizing it was 5 years ago, you got your money at the end of the trip.  It’s not like I left you out hundreds of dollars. So enjoy your other friends, the ones with grown up jobs, fat bank accounts, normal schedules and fake smiles when I’m around. I won’t fight to be in your life anymore. Enjoy your super busy life, with work, jaycees (aren’t those friends you pay to have?) and your brother.  I’ll be over here working my lame job, existing in my boring life until I decide I can’t anymore.

My being burnt out and over school in general

I was sick of school, I wanted out and when I should have stayed and swapped majors until I found the right one I didn’t… I finished up a degree program and graduated. Why besides being burnt out, my dad put the fear of god in me about not becoming a professional student.  7 years post graduation guess who hasn’t once used her degree and has no clue what she’d return to school for, this girl. I’ve toyed with ideas but I haven’t nailed anything down, partly out of fear of the same thing happening and partly because I really want to know. I would love a rewarding job, a job that gave me the ability to move out, and to travel as much as I’d like to where ever my heart desired.  I fear that’s never going to happen. What do I want to be when I grow up?

My clinical depression and anxiety – do I really have to explain that?

Matt

Also known as poopyhead hoodie ruiner or poopyhead for short.  You ghosted me, for what and why? The last time I saw you things seemed fine. Was it the fact that you weren’t ready for a full blown relationship, or was it that you weren’t over your baby momma who clearly has moved on.  I accepted and got over my fear of you having a child, and wanted to get to know your daughter. A chance I never got, just like that explanation I’ll never get. I put the fact that the whole summer we talked you were out of a job, and looking, most girls would have ran at that idea and the kid thing. I didn’t. Was this revenge for 2014 when I thought I was ready to move on from John (who I still care about now in 2017) and you wanted the serious kind of relationship and I didn’t want to so much as think about kissing? I let you drive my Camaro for heaven’s sake… NO ONE DRIVES THE CAMARO. I drove a hour to see you any time we hung out, I’d do little things for you just because I wanted to. I was proud of you when you landed your job even though I knew that was less time for me, and more time for the job. I was willing to be patient and let you get used to that schedule and your time with your daughter. But instead of an adult explanation, I got nothing, no texts, no phone calls, no return emails. No picks in our pick em group which you talked so much shit going into, I’m the champ thank you. I want to know what I did or didn’t do so I don’t do it again. I’m so sick of NO explanation from men, hell boys because that’s what yall act like. I thought you’d want someone who wanted to be around, who was ok with your daughter, and loved sports. I thought wrong, and GTHC!

Liz

Miss sickeningly fake sweet my old office manager. You’re the reason I quit that job, along with the pay, the fact you caused me anxiety, and wouldn’t let me do much. You fussed because you had no one to help you do all these things you had to do. Well when I took the job you weren’t office manager you were on my level. I was promised to be cross trained that never happened. You stopped letting me answer the phone because I hadn’t got the script down. You wouldn’t teach me anything about the computer system, so I could assist in entry of data. I never learned the new patient paperwork because you wouldn’t give that responsibility up to me. If I didn’t do everything the way you thought it was done you were fussing. And that passive aggressive memo you sent out a few months prior to me leaving, about hair color, we all knew was about me. The doctor who we worked for had no issue, you had purple black hair so I don’t get why my peekaboo purple streaks was an issue. Oh wait, it’s because everyone loved it, and you were just the frump that sat up front. I see patients out and they miss me.  A lot of them want me to come back, I would if you weren’t there, I got paid more and had more stuff to do  besides file outdated paper work, develop x-rays, run charts, and hook people up to therapies or run them through exercises.  And going over resumes during my two weeks notice (that I couldn’t even wait until lunch the day I gave it, I gave it the second I walked in the door that morning. And I definitely wasn’t giving it to you, you would have asked too many damn questions and been rash) that hurt, and that made me feel like a nothing, more of a nothing than I felt before.  I love the doctor, I’d work for him again, not you. And the shit you say and how you say it to him most people wouldn’t still have a job. I had a patient I bumped into say something similar to it, just like she said “I’d love to give that bitch a beer and a midol” some days. You still haven’t replaced me, which only adds to your work load.  If you had let me help and not made me feel so damn insignificant I might still be there. And before some of  y’all say why didn’t you say something, working in an office with one doctor, 2 therapists, myself and her it’s hard to say anything without your life being miserable because it would have been had I said something. That’s if the doctor could have helped fix that issue.

Management at Old Navy (the clique)

You make my life miserable, and you want to say that it’s the “we hate the customer” attitude that the staff has. I don’t hate the customers, well 95% of them I don’t there are some that have reputations and I do. Alex, you’re the biggest offender here. Your blatant favoritism and racism yes I said it. Has poisoned the veins of our store, I’m not the only one that feels this way. You won’t work with certain people’s schedules but yet this new girl transfers in and you let her make her schedule and praise her to the heavens. All you care about is old navy cards and emails so you can get your precious bonus money… NO. Customer service needs to be key, it never will be.  I even had a customer tell me that when I asked for her email “we need to focus more on the customer service aspect than we do the emails and cards”. You guaranteeing someone who can only run a register, 30 plus hours a week versus me and a couple other people who get cards, can do signs, markdowns, shipment and counting who sometimes barely scrap up 20. BULLSHIT. You and your little clique sitting in the office talking or standing out on the sales floor cackling. Not professional. Those snide comments aren’t professional either. Calling well doing the web version of gap code was a fucking joke. They didn’t do shit! Hell I wrote the damn district manager to address this shit; she came in and talked to the store manager. Has he addressed it, if he did you the main issue weren’t there to hear it. Props to her for coming in and addressing! The double standards in the store are BULLSHIT.  And some people need to stop constantly using their phones for personal use on company time.  Get off your ass and do something to help the rest of us out. Don’t take up my time and company time to talk to your kids at night when you could do that on break or when you get home since its five minutes from work.  You can’t multitask and get what you need to get done so we’re still there even later wasting company time. Nope, I quit that shit; I won’t close with you on your night. I’ll suffer through the other nights.  Pulling someone in the office when they’re keeping to themselves and doing their job because they’re having a bad day to tell them if they don’t drop the attitude you’re going to send them home is rude. It’s okay karma will get you all one day, or as y’all like to say “GOD DON’T LIKE UGLY” well you need to reevaluate that one since you don’t seem to be perfect or being very nice.  Since half of the good people are ready to walk. I might, if I get this other job.  I probably won’t have a choice since you won’t work with other peoples work schedules.

I’m sure I could come up with other reasons as to why… but I’m blanking out and starting to babble. These are some of the biggest reasons I struggle on a daily basis and have contemplated and/or attempted to end my life.