#couldnt get the image outta my head

[99kittyrox]

Tumblr isnt letting me load any pics or vids, but Imma try to post anyways- ;w ; Jealous cat- HE REFUSED TO COME HOME, AND NOW IM AT ZERO GEMS AND HAVE TO WAIT FOR GOD KNOWS HOW LONG FOR THE EVENT RERUN-

[triona-tribblescore]

his mascara is running-

[erinscoolart]

next in my lil fun game of fakemon inspired by my fakemon prompt roller, is Crypdopteryl!

I rolled a two-form legendary bug/dark type and something mothman-inspired felt like the obvious choice. fairly unassuming in his daytime form but i couldnt get the image outta my head of just. a little guy.

[battiegutz]

oops couldnt get image of ronin swimmin in a creek fr th first time outta my head lol :3 theyre jus kinda floatin bc i assume turtles can breathe underwater ??? @slippnslide heres the silly lol

[magniloquent-raven]

its midnight and im sleeby but i finished this thing i started scribbling out this afternoon based on @harringroveera 's post that i couldnt get outta my brain

i think i might have angsted it up a little cuz i can't help myself but its still cute so. pls enjoy

--

Billy's not super clear on where he is right now.

There are people everywhere. Yelling. Laughing. Music plays over a big fancy sound system. There's a blurry blue light glowing through glass sliding doors that he's been staring at for a little while 'cause it's…pretty. Twinkly and stuff. 

He's too many drinks past a good buzz, that much he's sure of. His head feels. Floaty. And heavy. And if he tries to move the room starts to spin. 

Whatever he's sitting on is comfy though. Soft. Softer than his damn mattress with that broken spring that's always stabbing him in the ribs. 

He's tired. Really tired.

Feels like he hasn't slept in months.

To his left a girl starts squealing as her boyfriend grabs her around the waist, to his right a speaker vibrates against the wall, buzzing to the beat of a deep bassline. Everything sounds far away, though. White noise blending together while the edges of his vision go fuzzy and faded.

He feels his head tip, just a little, and then—

With a sharp inhale he jolts, blinks, glancing around blearily at a silent, empty room.

It's still dark out. The blue glow still shimmers at him through glass. A lamp lights the room he's in. Everything's…shapes. Colours. His brain is still mushy.

He blinks a couple more times. His eyes are dry. Wobbly. All the shapes are wobbly.

"Hey, man, party's over." A voice startles him. He tries to look around, but it fucking hurts, and moving his head is so much work. Whatever, it's a nice voice. Way nicer than the jarring silence. 

Wait, why's the party over. He doesn't want the party to be over.

He wrinkles his nose. "Nooo…" 

"...Yeessss." There's a pause. "Everyone is gone, dude."

"No." Billy rubs his eyes. The chair is still so comfy. He sinks further into it, unwilling to move. "You're here."

"It's my house. I'm allowed to stay." The voice sounds amused. There's some rustling behind Billy. Plastic crinkling. Maybe. Something being moved around. "Why are you even here, anyways?" 

Hazy memories jumble together. A flask of vodka in his pocket, slipped under itchy robes. Sitting two heads away from Steve Harrington, sneaking glances between barely concealed shots. A droning speech. Another droning speech. Neil's solemn face in a crowd, watching him walk across the stage to shake hands with…the guy. The. Whatever.  

Some girl digging her talons into his arm after he slipped away from Neil's attempts to maintain a public image by acting like he gave a shit about his son's accomplishments. Beer and cheap tequila and shitty music blurring into each other as he gets dragged around like a trophy dangling off the elbow of whichever nameless girl claimed him for the night.

"Graduated," he says, picking at a sticky spot on the thigh of his jeans. Pinching the fabric isn't doing anything but he can't stop prodding. 

"Yeah, I know, with honors. Congrats." There's a huff. A silence. "Doesn't explain why you're here though." Footsteps, sneakers on linoleum, tap tap tap, meandering around whatever room is at his back. Glass bottles getting moved around. It's sort of soothing to listen to someone move around their house without any reason to be keeping track of their movements.

Well, unless…

Billy's stomach flips, and his chest goes tight. "You're not gonna kick me out are you?" he asks, his voice small. He feels sick, saying it. Thinking about it. He doesn't want to be anywhere else. This house smells sweet under the stink of spilled beer and leftover perfume. And he likes this chair.

The movement behind him stops for a second. "...Nnno?"

He breathes. Relaxing into velvety upholstery. "'Kay." 

"You sure you don't have anywhere to be? Family waiting up? Girlfriend expecting a midnight rendezvous?" 

Billy snorts. "No one gives a shit where I am." 

Neil will care tomorrow when Billy makes him look bad by pulling up hungover and in yesterday's clothes, but that's a problem for tomorrow. He won't be waiting up for him, worrying about Billy's safety or whatever.

A glass bottle clinks against something. "What about your sister?"

"Pfff…" He snickers, and gives his head a tiny shake. The movement makes everything spinny for a second and he has to pause to swallow bile. The sour taste on his tongue feels appropriate. And gross. "I fucked up. Everything. Beat the shit outta her friend. She's prolly hoping I don' come home at all. Ever."

Another glass bottle gets set down, slower this time. Carefully. "...This friend of hers…"

"Steve," Billy sighs. His eyes fall shut and he leans back into a cushioned headrest. His insides do the stupid fluttery thing they always do when he thinks about Steve. Steve and his stupid kissable face. 

"It was pretty dumb of him to pick a fight with you, huh," the voice says wryly. 

"Mnh…I guess." There's a soft snort behind him. But something prickles at Billy. Guilt, maybe. It's uncomfortable. He chews his lip as his eyes start to burn. "Nah. No. Whole thing was my fault. All my fault. S'always my fault." 

Saying it doesn't make it feel better.

"What do you mean?" There's sounds anymore. Just the voice, and Billy's heartbeat in his ears.

"It's…" Billy swipes at his eyes with the back of his hand. "It's a secret."

"I'm good at keeping those."

"You can't tell him."

"...I definitely will not tell him."

Billy hums. "He's real pretty, y'know."

"So I've been told, but what—"

"No, he's…he's so pretty. Like, I can't believe it sometimes, and I just wanna. Do something about it. All the time. But it hurts. Hurts so bad, and it's not supposed to, so I had to—I had to…I just got so mad. And I had to prove I didn't wanna kiss him, but I do. 'Cause I like him so much. Too much."

The silence is back. Ringing in Billy's ears. He sniffles quietly. 

"Oh…" 

"Please don't tell him. Or anyone."

"Billy…"

"Promise."

There's a strained pause. Billy fidgets, his insides twisting into knots. 

"I promise." The voice is so gentle, and it makes Billy's eyes sting again. He blinks away tears and listens to more bottles being moved. Plastic cups hitting plastic bags. Sneakers against linoleum, and hardwood, and carpet. And after a while, "You're not gonna spend all night in the chair, are you?"

"You said—"

"I'm not kicking you out, I just meant. There's a guest bed, man," 

"Oh."

**

Sunlight hits Billy directly in the face and he rolls over, groaning. 

The motion makes his stomach lurch, but he buries his face in…pillowcase. Unfamiliar pillowcase. Smells like honeysuckle and clean air and it's softer than any bedding he's ever touched. 

His legs are tangled in sheets just as sweet-smelling and finely woven, and his guts give another heave as he realizes he's only wearing briefs. 

Did…did he fuck someone last night?

He was definitely drunk enough to do something that stupid, if the cottonmouth and pounding headache are any indication, but he doesn't fucking remember. Which would normally be a blessing, except he usually doesn't stay the goddamn night. 

Is he going to have some girl hanging all over him for the first couple weeks of summer? Until he can figure out how to ditch her without making it look like he's too eager to.

Or maybe he'll stick around for a little while, this bed is actually ridiculous. He might be able to fake his way through one shitty summer fling if it means sleeping like a goddamn king. There are like, five pillows, and it feels like he's laying on a cloud. 

He nuzzles deeper into the pillowcase. Smells nice too.

His memories of the previous day mostly stop around Tammy Whatsherface dragging him away for a graduation afterparty. Maybe he shouldn't have started drinking at noon. 

Christ, he's not even sure how he got here, or where his car is. 

Or where here is.

It's one of the Loch Nora houses, probably. Nowhere else would have sheets like this.

Eventually he drags himself, reluctantly, out of bed. And immediately tastes bile.

Which is. Bad. 

Being upright is bad. 

And he doesn't know where the nearest toilet is. Which could be extremely bad. Girls whose carpets you puke on don't invite you back to sleep in their nice guest rooms.

So, he's very slow and careful about pulling his jeans on. And he makes sure to pause when he starts to feel clammy, sitting on the floor to stop his head spinning. 

It takes him forever to get mostly dressed, jeans and an undershirt are enough. He can't find his button-up and socks require too much bending down, which his dehydrated brain does not appreciate. 

Peeking out into the nondescript hall doesn't provide any more answers about whose house this is. It's all shiny boring expensive decor and not a single person in sight.

Oh, looks like there's a bathroom at the end of the hallway though, good. 

He beelines for the sweet promise of a place to piss and rinse out his mouth, shuffling past a couple closed doors, listening for any signs of life and hearing nothing, until he shoulders his way into the bathroom and freezes in his tracks, because—

"Hey, uh. You're awake." Steve Harrington blinks at him, standing in front of a plain oval mirror, hairbrush in hand. Which he obviously hasn't used yet, because the bedhead he's sporting is kind of hilarious. It's all fluff in every direction. Billy wants to run his hands through it. 

Worse, though, is the fact that he's bare chested, wearing an unzipped hoodie and soft plaid pants, with all that fucking chest hair, and he's looking at Billy with a curious expression that isn't remotely like any way he's ever looked at Billy before and this is…all very, very strange.

So, obviously Billy's theory about what happened last night was wrong. He's not even back to square one, he has less than no idea what the fuck is happening.

"...Yes," Billy responds after a beat too long. 

Great.

Fantastic.

Very smooth.

The corner of Steve's mouth twitches. There's something soft and warm about the amusement twinkling in his eyes and it's making Billy itch. 

"I think I'm gonna puke."

Steve snorts, and drops his hairbrush on the vanity. "Right, I'll get out of your way then." He sidles past Billy, far too close, patting his shoulder as he passes. Which does not help when he's just barely keeping his shit together.

His footsteps fade down the hallway at Billy's back. And Billy doesn't move. 

What the actual fuck.

He slams the bathroom door shut behind him, and leans his forehead against it, trying to breathe slowly through his nose. 

They didn't have sex last night. There's no way. He did not fuck Steve Harrington.

He couldn't have. Steve would never…

He's not…

That's just. Not what happened. Because that would never happen. 

It kind of looks like that's what happened, but it's not. 

He sits on the floor, head in his hands. And breathes. 

It's unclear how long he stays curled up on cold tile. Long enough that his legs start to feel stiff. Nothing about last night comes back to him. He sighs.

And gets up.

And splashes some water on his face. Drinks a little from the tap. Uses some of the mouthwash he digs out from under the counter. Takes a piss.

He's still unsteady. His temples throb if he moves too quickly. But he feels a little less like roadkill.

Steve waves at him when he spots him coming down the stairs. Waggles his fingers in the air, like they're best buds and this situation isn't the most surreal thing to happen to them since the Byers' weirdly trashed living room.

Billy rubs the back of his neck. "...Hey."

"Coffee?"

"Sure."

Steve pulls out two mugs, one of his thumbs stuck through a hole in the cuff of his sleeve. There's sunlight warming the honey-coloured highlights in his hair.

Yeah, no, this is definitely more fucked up than finding Max in a random house with a busted window and shitty drawings everywhere.

He might actually have lost his mind.

"What the fuck happened last night?" He blurts, his cheeks hot, fingers jittery. He shoves his hands in his pockets, fists balled up against his thighs.

Steve glances at him out of the corner of his eye. "Ah, figures you don't remember."

"Don't remember what?"

"You were pretty out of it."

"Yeah, thanks, I know that part."

Steve snorts, grabbing more things out of cupboards. Billy's paying more attention to his hands than what's in them. "You didn't want to leave, so I let you sleep upstairs."

"...Why?"

"You didn't say, just said you didn't have anywhere else to be."

"That's not what I meant." He knows exactly why he didn't want to leave. All the many reasons why he'd rather be here than under Neil's roof. Or anywhere else. What doesn't make any fucking sense is Steve accommodating him. 

Steve's eyes flicker to his again, briefly, before he turns back to the counter. When he shrugs the nonchalance seems forced. "You're a lot nicer when you're plastered."

"I…" Billy opens his mouth. Shuts it again. 

What the fuck does that mean. 

Steve fidgets with a spoon. "You got…kind of weepy, y'know."

Oh.

Goddamnit.

His shoulders go tense, jagged edges of a shield around what's left of his dignity. "Fuck you, Harrington," he snaps. It's all he can muster when he doesn't know what the fuck he was crying about. Every possibility is worse than the last.

"Yeah, you wish," Steve mutters.

Billy freezes. 

And doesn't recover quick enough to hide it from Steve. Steve's eyebrows shoot up. "Holy shit, it's true isn't it?" He turns around fully, the mess he's made of the counter forgotten. 

Fuck.

"I—don't know what you're talking about." His stupid deer-in-the-headlights expression is mostly under control but the sudden tremble in his voice definitely fucking isn't. 

He backs away a step and then stops. Where the fuck is he going to go, he doesn't know where his car is, where his keys are, and he's fucking barefoot. Running upstairs and locking himself in Steve's bathroom seems just a little too pathetic but that doesn't mean he doesn't consider it.

Billy clenches his jaw. It makes his head pound. "What exactly did I say last night?" He grits out, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Steve eyes him. Slowly, carefully. Deliberating. He chews his bottom lip. The silence is fucking agonizing. 

"Can't tell you," he finally replies, his voice light. One corner of his mouth lifts into half a smile, and scratches his cheek. "I promised I wouldn't tell anyone."

"That's…" Billy rubs his forehead with the palm of his hand, like he's looking for the button to restart his poor, confused brain. He drops his hand, exasperated, eyebrows creeping up to his hairline. "Steve, what the fuck."

Steve cracks a full-blown grin. "I told you I'm good at keeping secrets."

"I swear to god—"

"Aw c'mon, I can't break a promise! Especially 'cause you asked so nicely. You were so polite. It was very cute."

"I…what?"

He can't have heard that right.

Or Steve's just fucking with him. That's what's going on here. Billy let something slip last night and now Steve's holding it over his head. Because why wouldn't he, honestly. He has every reason to want to mess with Billy, and now he's got the perfect leverage.

"Billy." Steve's voice is soft, suddenly. His expression gentles, and he moves to close the gap between them. And Billy…doesn't get it. He's stalled out and stuck trying to figure out how this is gonna go wrong, how it fits into whatever prank Steve is clearly pulling.

He doesn't know what his face is doing, but he's pretty sure he's being way more readable than he'd like. 

He nearly jumps out of his skin when Steve touches him. A hand on his shoulder. A hesitant, awkward pat. Testing the waters, maybe. Trying to make sure he's real, maybe.

Is any of this real? Billy's still not convinced. He can smell Steve's shampoo and see all the little flecks of colour in his eyes and his shoulder is still burning where they made contact, but…

"I'm sorry I hurt you, y'know," Steve murmurs, his gaze dropping, hovering somewhere around Billy's crossed arms. He reaches out again, fingers grazing Billy's knuckles this time. All Billy can do is blink at him, afraid to breathe. "Doesn't have to be like that."

He tugs at Billy's hand, untucking it from the crook of his elbow, unfolding Billy's arms, and Billy lets him. One hand drops to his side and the other stays cradled in Steve's grip. He's…staring at it like he's studying for a test. Billy has no idea what's so fucking interesting, or what Steve's talking about, but he's also not bothered at this point. 

His knees feel like jello. 

"You could've just kissed me."

Billy nearly collapses. Like one of those swooning chicks in shitty romance novels. Breathless and flushed and overwhelmed. Except he just stands there like a moron, staring at Steve. And Steve's mouth.

"What?" he manages not to sound too strangled. Miraculously. 

Steve smiles at him, almost sheepishly. "You still could. I wouldn't mind."

"You…wouldn't."

"Yeah, I mean, if you had morning breath still it might be a different story, but…" Steve gestures vaguely, pulling Billy's hand along with him as he shrugs. 

Billy snorts.

And hey, maybe Steve is messing with him, and this will blow up in his face, but…

Well, he just really wants to kiss him before it does.

So he leans in and presses their lips together. 

~~tag list @spreckle @growup-thatbeautiful @prettyboy-like-you @suddenlyinlove

[mayaishiipeters]

@derangedwifenadja you are SO RIGHT

he is so moving on!!!! (^ seconds from bursting into tears)

nandor has played orinoco flow by enya on his hot pink ipod nano 2,873 times

[ohtobeleah]

Rooster x Seresin reader for Strictly Scandalous!

Oh hold the phone I’m ON IT. 🍆

Warnings: This is Stictly Scandalous. Smut Ahead.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

The first time you hooked up with Bradley Bradshaw, you were both clear on the fact it would be a one time thing. He couldnt risk fucking around and fining out with Jake Seresins younger sister. He was a risk taker, an adrenaline chaser, but he wasnt suicidal. 

“What do you do for work?” Rooster could recall asking on the front veranda of the Hard Deck the first night he met you, Jake had done the rounds introducing you to everyone when you'd come to stay with him for a few months on a ‘soul searching’ holiday. 

“I work with young, first time offenders.” You responded, lighting a cigarette that hung between your lips, cupping the lighter with your hands from the San Diego wind. Rooster just shook his head in reluctance to let you light it. Waiting for you to take a quick draw before the cigarette was falling between your fingers. “Just needed a break from it all you know, shit can get pretty intense.” 

“You mind?” Rooster asked as he gestured to the cigarette between your fingers, you just held it up for him to take. Watching as he brought it to his lips to take a drag–eyeing you off as he threw it over his shoulder to stomp it out after it hit the wooden floor. “Those things'll kill ya.” Bradley smirked, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans for the small circular tin he carried everywhere with him. “Here, try this–” 

“Chew?” You scoffed, laughing softly as Bradley handed you a small section of the concentrate. “Because this shits any better for you.”

Regardless, you took the peace offering. There was a moment of silence that you both stood in, both leaning over the railing of the Hard Deck, contemplating your next question over in your head before you decided to throw all the caution into the wind. “You wanna get outta here, Rooster?” 

“Yes–” It sounded more needy and airy and far more desperate than he meant it to, But regardless, Bradley Bradshaw was unlocking his Bronco quicker than he ever had before as you sucked at his neck and your hands worked to undo his belt. “One time, Jake never finds out?” You mumbled against his flush skin, feeling the heat against your lips as Bradley fell back into the backseat of the Bronco, dragging you in on-top of him.

It really didn’t take the two of you long to rid yourselves of any article of clothing that was in the way of a quick root. Straddling Bradley’s lap as he guided himself inside you. Moaning as you took him in nice and tight.

“Deal.” Famous last words. Because it's been two entire months and you and Bradley have hooked up more often than not, and there was the all important element neither of you had yet to address properly…..Feelings..Mutual feelings… 

“Ohhhh–Fugh, Rooster!” It felt otherworldly, Bradley lapping at your cunt, pulling you down onto his face with strong arms. He’d happily die there, suffocating slowly as he drank up all the sweet sweet nectar you were giving him. The sensitive bundle of nerves throbbing against his tongue as swollen lips sucked a light pressure against you. 

“Shit shit shit–Im so fucking close!” It wasn't a word of a lie as you dropped your hands from squeezing at your own tits to intertwin your fingers with Roosters sandy blonde locks, sweaty and messy from all the fucking youd been doing. This was just the finisher, Bradleys sweet dessert. “Keep eating my fucking pussy like that baby, just. like. Ohhhh—“

It’s heavenly, the intense orgasm that washes over you as your thighs clench around Roosters head to steady yourself. His hands are moving from your legs to spread your knees apart—he wants a peak at the view while you wither away on top of him. So pretty and fucked out.

“Holy shit—“ It’s the worst image Jake Seresin has ever had burned into his retinas. His baby sister, his favourite sister mind you, sitting completely and utterly naked on the face of a man he can’t quite identify. The sheets of your bed are covering his junk thank christ, but Rooster is panicking underneath you as you stop moving, praying that if he did the same and just didn't move, Jake wouldn't see him lying underneath you, eating your pretty tight cunt out like he’d been starved for months on end. 

“Jake!! Get the fuck out!” You’re hissing, making your way off Bradley Bradshaw's stunned face to straddle his waist and cover his identity. This wasn’t good. “I’m serious!” 

“Who the fuck is that!?” Jakes spitting back at you as he walked into your bedroom, originally his spare bedroom. In hindsight, this probably wasn’t the most appropriate place to bring your older brother's work colleague for a quick roll in the hay, you definitely should have gone back to Bradley’s place like you usually did. But Jake's place had been closer to the bar, and you couldn't wait any longer than need be. 

“GET OUT!” Your screaming just at Jake catches the undeniable sandy blonde moustache of Bradley Bradshaw for a split second—his heart drops. No, this isn’t happening. 

“ROOSTER! The fuck are you doing with my sister!!” Its a dumb fucking question, so dumb it had Bradley stifiling a laugh as you fall to the side of him, pulling up the streets to cover your exposed chest. 

“Well all things considered I thought that was pretty obvious.” Rooster snickers before Jake is lunging over you to grip at Bradley throat. You jump up between the two men to give Bradley a chance to make a quick escape across the other side of the bed, he's grinning ear to ear as he takes a pillow with him. Covering his exposed and still ridiculously hard length. “Hangman listen–” 

“SHE'S TWENTY FOUR BRADSHAW!” 

“I know, she feels like it too.” It has you cupping your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from laughing, Jake's head is bright red in anger. Protectiveness just dripping from every pore he has. 

“You’re a deadman–” Jakes pointing at Rooster from the other side of the bed as you grip onto the sheet and drape it around yourself, using it at a strapless makeshift sheet dress as you got off the bed, pushing your palm into Jakes chest to keep him from lunging at Rooster. 

“I'm kidding, I'm just kidding!” Rooter is smirking, he's not helping the situation. Not one bit. “Listen man, all jokes aside, Y/n’s a great girl.” 

“She is fourteen years younger than you, Bradshaw! Find someone in your own age bracket! Not my sister!” 

“In my own defence I can fuck whoever I want Jake, I’m still an adult.” You jump to your own defence before the conversation can get any further out of hand. “Rooster and I are just helping each other out, aren't we Bradshaw.” You turned to look over your shoulder and for a moment you saw a little hesitation in Bradley's response. 

“That's all this is, Hangman, promise.” Rooster knew why it hurt so much to say, he actually really liked you, but he knew that he couldn't do this. Not with you, not being Jake's sister. “We’re just two consenting adults helping each other out.”

Right?

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Strictly Scandalous Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw

[theauthor-1234]

was listening to TV girl and I couldnt get this image outta my head

[sunnixsunshine]

Well. I figured that as I know how to do it I might as well use it wisely.

[agent-sarahwalker]

Holy crap! Let these women live! That interview was so nice and sweet and because Ashlyn expressed her comfortability, it’s egotistical? You know how many times she’s heard Ali talk about her blood clots and being away from the team? Like 4573 times. And she still listens and doesn’t interrupt. And vice versa. With that being said, they actually go to a water park meant for kids. You have to laugh.

"so what do you guys do to relax and decompress?"

ali and ash w their galaxy brains: oh we go the four seasons cause they have a cool water park with a lazy river

*actual pic

[prodigil]

‘  LONG  AS  WE’RE   stuck  in  here  --  ‘  it’s  a  collapse,  iron  bars  backed  by  the  strength  of  an  unnatural  curse,  or  entity;  the  traditional  modus  operandi  fails  to  suffice  in  banishment,  and  sam  is  out  of  card  tricks,  despite  the  mile-long-list  of  them  hidden  up  his  long  sleeves.  his  denim  creaks  when  he  folds  his  legs,  seating  himself  upon  the  mumbling  wooden  floor  and  fishing  free  a  beaten  deck  of  cards,  still  in  their  paper  case.   just  enough  light  streams  in  through  dust-covered  window  slats  (too  narrow  to  fit  through)  to  illuminate  his  space.  ‘  cards  are  more  fun  with  two  people.  humor  me?  ‘

@lastofmars​

[theangelisgay]

why do you have a video about phil

Cuz hes phil down to agincourt he deserves it

[kirfluffbon]

couldnt get the mental image outta my head sorry

[imjustcoping]

TW- mentions of sh and unaliving

ive been having a really shitty day.  I woke up just exhausted, got outta bed to do my push ups and sit ups and i just lay on the floor for 10 minutes trying to motivate myself before school.  Then we ran out of coffee so i couldnt take one with me, and getting changed was really shitty becasue i had to see my refletion and all my cuts in the mirror.  And they keep catching on my clothes and leaving stains on my white shirts.  im too tired to deal with it.  Then at school, everyone kept demanding my attention and i just couldnt deal with it.  i couldnt find my headphones to block out the noise and for the whole day i kept realising over and over again how im doing so much worse than i ever have before.  Normally my self destructive thoughts stay in a box, they are linear and they include one of a fw things, slef harm with a razor, hitting something with clenched fists or blasting music to kill my thoughts, even sometimes i think about unaliving and how i hated it that my last attempt didnt work.  but yesterday i was walking past a glass display case to one of my classes and i almost rammed my head sideways into the glass.  i was walking and the image of me doing it just stuck into my vision and i was so close to following through but the moment passed but i havent been able to stop thinking about it.  it was horrible and violent and honestly ive been starting to get more and more thoughts f suicide again.  They just keep hitting me when i dont expect it and then for the rest of teh day im forced into a state of survival.  waking up in the mornings is almost a hit and miss, im always this close to giving up and just lying there.  

Its worse than last year and that scares me becasue i dont want it to get as bad as last year but i know that its already worse.   have mock exams in 2 weeks, and i havent studied, i have several internals due and no time to do them becasue im too drained to process the words.  this morning my best friend greeted me by saying hi fat bitch.  it really hurt and i was already exhausted and she didnt know that though and she said something and i literally shook her.  i grabbed her by the shoulder and shook her.  i didnt know what i was doing but she just stood there and looked at me as i shook her god i hated myself for it.  it made no sense, she did nothing wrong, i had no right to do that and i feel so stupid.  today has just been a whole fucking daze of me trying not to break down and trying not to go to the bathrooms to cut myself. fuck i hate it here, i hate this life, i hate these parents, i hate this body

17/08/22 7:53pm   -Alder/aster/wallace / neale

p.s pls help im trying to figure out my new name and i want some input

[oopsie0503]

I posted 126 times in 2021

92 posts created (73%)

34 posts reblogged (27%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 0.4 posts.

I added 150 tags in 2021

#overwatch - 45 posts

#junkrat - 21 posts

#fanart - 15 posts

#art - 15 posts

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Longest Tag: 60 characters

#anybody else remeber this shitty post i made oh so long ago?

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

I made this at like 1 am last night

63 notes • Posted 2021-08-16 16:42:12 GMT

#4

mcree: hey Ashe, we have to head down to the supply drop, wanna come?

ashe, already putting her boots on: and get outta this damn house? count me in.

hanzo, getting an idea: uh Ashe?

ashe: what do you want?

hanzo: those aren't winter boots.

ashe: like hell they arent!

hanzo: they're aesthetic boots, they aren't gonna keep your feet dry. Bob's gonna have to... help you.

ashe: what does THAT mean

mcree, picking up what hanzos putting down: hold on! I know exactly what we need.

mcree proceeds to grab an adult sized baby carrier you strap around bob's chest from a closet.

ashe: where did you get that????

hanzo: doesnt matter. we'll strap you up to bob and your feet will be nice and dry

a few hours later...

they get back home, unwrap ashe, and burst into laughter they'd been holding in since they left

ashe: what the hell is so damn funny???

hanzo: your boots are perfectly fine winter boots

ashe: what did you just say

mcree, wheezing and crying: YOU JUST SPENT 2 HOURS STRAPPED TO BOB IN A BABY CARRIER FOR NO REASON

ashe proceeds to lunge at the two of them and when they escape chase them through the whole house until one of them cant breath from laughing and running and collapses while ashe beats them up

65 notes • Posted 2021-01-24 20:01:38 GMT

#3

day 7, an underrated character + pets

81 notes • Posted 2021-03-07 18:39:12 GMT

#2

what can I say except you're welcome?

oh and why I made this. it was like 3 am. I was bored out of my mind and couldnt sleep, and looking up cursed overwatxh images and kept coming across tracer and genji but it's just head and legs. so I did it to my favorite junker. will I do more? yeah.

109 notes • Posted 2021-02-22 20:01:39 GMT

#1

I made some junkrat and hog icons... 40, actually. I'm gonan post the best ones here cause I can only have 10 images but I might make another post or two

god it was so hard to choose just 10 I love his facial expressions so much expect more today along with your regularly scheduled overmarch content

224 notes • Posted 2021-03-05 17:02:52 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[chat-noir-always-here]

I rewatch Miraculous—Mr. Pigeon

Behold!!! The episode that almost made me stop watching Miraculous.

No for real i think i got up and left the room first time around, this episode was so ridiculous.

• “You only have one day to work on your fashion piece.” Only a day? That seems kinda unrealistic when you take into account designing, gathering materials, whether or not you need to go out and buy any materials, the amount of time it takes to actually put all that together...

•WHOA Gabriel’s actually smiling in that pic Mrs. Bustier shows. Er, smiling-ish

•Pure cinnamon roll child seems proud this peppermint frappucino dickhead is his father (Gabriel ur hair looks like whipped topping and that tie doesnt help). BE GRATEFUL FOR SUCH A CARIBG CHILD YOU PRICK!!!

•Maaaaaariii chill the fuck out your overactive imagination and severe anxiety are getting the better of you.

•AHEM Gabriel has a purple bowtie in Mari’s imagination instead of that ridiculous peppermint scarf he uses to hide Nooroo’s broach???

•Adrien: appears out of nowhere

Marintette: jerks and flops away like a fish on dry land

Me: lol bye Marinette

• Adriens beuatiful face when Mari is talking to him (before she blunders and stumbles with her words) is beautiful

•Mari’s beautiful face when Adrien is telling her “you’re so talented Marinette!” and the subtle tremor in her eyes as they widen with her smile...☺️😊😘i love my beautiful, anxious mess of a daughter

•Mari: Follows Adrien with her eyes like an owl. LMAO.

•Chloe does not deserve Sabrina 😒

•Whereas Gabriel resembles a peppermint frap, Hawk Moth/Papillion appears to be the result of what might happen if Batman and the riddler had a baby

•Ramier, bruh, there is like. Zero. Fucking. Reason to be that upset over not being allowed to feed pigeons. For real. Go feed them on some rooftop somewhere if you must. No reason to let Hawk Daddy akumatize you over it...

...

...

...You know what? We’re not calling Gabriel “daddy.”

EVER. Again.

•Also Hawk-shitface, pigeon dude is your worst idea and you keep coming back to him. Seriously at least put some effort into your champions’ outfits. Youre a fashion designer for petes sake!

• wow this show really loves its skin-tight body suits, huh? Even when they look ridiculous.

•Sabrina how the hell much did you have to pay for a cellphone that lets you zoom in on a fucking sketch from dozens of feet away and score yourself a crystal-clear image???

•Sabrina: “We’re soooo awesome!”

Chloe: “We?”

Chloe does NOT deserve Sabrina.

•Arent real bird feathers full of germs and bacteria that cause diseases? And Marinette “im immune to bird flu” Dupain-Cheng just plucked that shit up off the ground and put it on her hat of all things. I dont know whether to be fisgusted or impressed.

•Chat “paint me like one of your French girls” Noir for the win everybody

• “Im allergic to feathers.” I came across a theory on tumblr once (cant find the OP) that this coulda been caused by Emilie wearing the damaged Peacock broach when she was pregnant with him. If thats true i would be pleased😏

•Allow me to channel Chloe for this comment: LB, CN, that disguise is about as convincing as Mr. Pigeon and Bubbler’s get ups are appealing. In other words, NO.

•Chat Noir moonwalking with a hat on—booiii got some moves. 👌👌👌👌

• “You’re the cat dont you eat [pigeons] for breakfast?!” No LB, Kitty Boi is a domestic kitty otherwise he’d present to you little dead things like my cat used to do before we stopped letting him go out. This is an awful joke but SPARE THE BIRDS, theyre just like Ramier—being controlled by a monster.

• “On the count of three my beloved pigeons will commence fire.” As disgusting as pigeon poop is i think they’ll live. Cant you come up with a better evil plan? Threatening to break the glass floor at their feet by having the pigeons stomp on the cage would be more effective. I’m not trying to help the villain, kaay? I just prefer my villains to use their head. Honestly Team Rocket is more intimidating than Pigeon Dude.

•is it just me or is kitty boi especially adorable in this episode??? 😻😻😻

• flock of pigeons put a dent ten times the size of kitty boi’s head in the door

Okay thats actually kinda terrifying. What woulda happened if that attack hit a normal person wearing no magical armor??? They’d be pecked to bits...

• CN: “I gotta get outta here before my secret identity is revealed!”

LB: “Yeah you wouldnt wanna let the cat out of the bag!”

CN: “...Haha very funny.” 😾

Dont dish out what you cant take, handsome boy.

•LB’s look of amusement as CN starts running in place for fear of detransforming in front of others is hillarious

•kitty boi if this hotel takes tips you should really give Jean-whatshisname one. That was the speediest, life-saving room service ever.

•isnt this just Chloe’s room??? Theres a ladybug pillow on the bed and everything. Why did the mayor send CN to Chloe’s room???

• “i cant wait my dear pigeon.” Hmm reminds of later on when Hawk Moth calls Nats “My dear Mayura.” Bruh if you INTO Ramier just ask for his phone number like a normal person, quit akumatizing him and eat a damn snickers

•LB: Time for a sneak attack! Oh no, my sneak attack failed cuz my partner couldnt help but sneeze with all these FEATHERS around.

HELLO, he just told you he was allergic to feathers???

•ugh them censoring out the punches with flashy screenshots is so LAAAME show me the VIOLENCE.

• “Cat Noir! Grab [the bird call!]” AGAIN he’s ALLERGIC TO FEATHERS. Just tie that yoyo to something to keep Pigeon dude in the air and smash it yourself.

• Gabriel is that teacher from Ned’s Declassified School Survival Guide who was never physically present in class and was only ever seen through a tablet or some nonsense

•Chloe getting busted my Marinette in front of the principal, Gabriel and Adrien is a great example of how PLAGIARISM DOESNT PAY are you listening art thieves lurking on tumblr, instagram and elsewhere???

•ahem Gabriel that sympathetic look you give a weeping Chloe is very out of character

• “youre the winner Marinette.” Not gonna check out Kim and Max’s hat? You could at least look at it, doesnt seem very impartial to pick Mari without looking at ALL the hats

•siiiiiiiiiighhhhhhhh

Girl they are BOTH allergic to feathers. How many blonde teenage boys walk around with a feather allergy? Quantum Masking or no Quantum Masking, c’mon you should be at least considering the idea theyre the same person from that knowledge alone.

Annnd thats all for now. This episode is more of a vent-inducing hate sink than enjoyable, save for the gushing waterfall of cute kitty boi moments it provides. I may do Stormy Weather later today to make up for it.