#don't you dare be sorry for this not EVER

[swytdoll]

(19)virgin!choso has the hots for his older neighbor(35):(

perverted. that’s how he felt as he watched you wash your car, in shorts so tiny they were practically underwear and a white tank top that was so soaked it was see through. the way the fabric clung to your breasts made his mouth water. he had been staring for at least 30 minutes and had gotten to see them from all angles. it was torture, sweet torture. he wanted to take you right then and there in the grass and hear his name on your lips over and over.

you were old enough to be his mom. in fact, he had had you as a teacher back when he was in high school and that made him feel guilty for looking at you like this. but he just couldn't stop. he couldn’t stop himself from fantasizing about being with an older woman, one that knew what she was doing and knew how to use him. you would make him feel like your toy and he wanted that.

you looked up and caught his eyes. he blushed bright red and quickly turned away. maybe if he had kept looking he would have noticed the smirk on your lips.

you were a teacher in more ways than one. you could teach him how to be a good boy and give you the pleasure you deserved. he wanted to sink into the ground when you began to approach him. you were smiling sweetly, but your eyes said something different.

you leaned against the fence separating your property and his, propping up one of your arms on it. you gave him a soft grin and he wanted to die. you’re so pretty to him. glowing eyes framed with thick wispy lashes, pretty plump lips. he can't look away, mesmerized, he watches the way your lips part and the tip of your tongue darts out to wet them. the sight makes his blood run hot and his shorts grow tighter.

"hello mister kamo," you hummed, "where are your parents?"

"i-i'm sorry i-" had he been caught? were you gonna tell on him?

"what's the matter? are you nervous?" you cooed, "i just wanted to say hi to your mom, see if she needed anything for the barbecue later. is she around?"

"she's- um- out. getting groceries," he replied quietly, not daring to meet your eyes.

"oh? and what about your father?"

"he's...working late," choso said. he was sweating and the bulge in his shorts was now painfully obvious. he wanted to die, to disappear from embarrassment. you smiled and let out a giggle.

"are you okay mister kamo? you seem awfully nervous." you’re batting those lashes and he swears he could melt, he clears his throat. "yeah! yeah, i'm fine, totally fine!" he blurted out, "i'll- uh- tell them you said hi."

"okay," you quipped sweetly and began to walk back to your house, "if you need anything, just let me know, okay?"

he nodded, "okay."

his head was spinning and he couldn't think straight. he didn't want to be alone, didn't want to go inside, didn't want to leave and miss seeing you again. he could still smell the strawberry of your shampoo from where he was. it was intoxicating.

"choso," you called out and he snapped out of his daze.

"yes, miss?"

"can you come help me? i dropped my hose and it's really hard to pick up."

"o-okay."

you lead him around the side of your house and he saw the hose was indeed on the ground, the water running. his hands were shaking, but he bent down and picked it up anyway. the moment he stood, you grabbed his hand and placed it right on your chest. he squeaked and tried to pull away, but you held him tight.

"you can touch me," you hummed, "i don't mind. is that why you were watching me? do you like older women?"

"i- uh- well- you- you're-"

"use your words, choso," you chastised him and moved his hand lower, making him rub his fingers over your nipple, "good boys speak when spoken to. did i ever teach you that?"

"y-yes," he whined and his hips bucked into the air. you gave him a wicked smile and pushed him to the ground. he landed on his back, legs sprawled out. his cock was standing up, pressing against his shorts and there was a dark stain where his tip was.

"such a cute little thing," you giggled and knelt down in front of him. you grabbed his legs and pulled them apart before getting between them. he squirmed and you grabbed his hands, pinning them to the ground.

"please," he whimpered.

"please what? be a good boy and tell me what you want," you cooed, pressing his hands into the ground.

"i- um- please...touch me," he whispered.

"like this?" you hummed and reached down to rub his clothed erection. he bucked his hips into your hand and moaned.

"yes, please, miss," he gasped.

"good boy," you purred and kissed him, he was putty. "so good for me."

your hands moved to his hips and he lifted them so you could pull his shorts down. his cock was already leaking and twitching.

"you poor thing, did you get this hard just from looking at me?"

"y-yes, miss," he moaned, "i couldn't stop thinking about you, how pretty you were and how much i wanted you."

"oh, you're such a good boy, telling me exactly what you want," you cooed and gripped his cock, stroking it slowly, "i should give you a reward, hm?"

"please, please, please," he whined, his hips twitching up.

"okay," you replied and leaned forward. you pressed a soft kiss to his tip, smearing the pre-cum on your lips before wrapping them around him. his back arched and he let out a loud moan. he couldn’t believe this, anyone could see him and you. his parents could walk past the fence and catch you sucking off their son. but that was part of the fun. it was forbidden and he loved that.

the sounds of your gurgled chokes as you slurp his cock are like a siren's song to him, the way you so dutifully suckle him to the base and take his entire length in your mouth without a trace of resistance. your jaw is slack as he slides between your lips, his hand gently cradling the back of your head, urging you forward until your nose is pressed into his belly. he's so big that even though your eyes are rolled back, your vision is obscured by the sheer size of his erection. your throat feels like a fleshy sheath for him, your breath forced out in tiny, rapid huffs through your nostrils, and your tongue is pinned.

and you're not just sucking his cock, either. you're swallowing. and every time your esophagus clenches down around the head of his dick, it sends him hurtling closer and closer towards an orgasm that he's determined to wring out of you first. he can feel you starting to struggle for air, but the way you're still obediently sucking his cock even while your lungs burn from a lack of oxygen.

“god," he rumbles, his voice like the sound of boulders shifting together. his grip on the back of your head tightens, and he grinds against your face, your nose and lips mashed up against his skin.

your stomach growls and churns in a desperate plea for nourishment, but the way he fills your throat is a completely different hunger. you can taste his pre-cum, his magic thick and warm and tingling on your tongue, and you suck and swallow with more enthusiasm. even though you're struggling to breathe, the idea of drinking his cum makes you feel like a starving woman given the key to a buffet.

"j-just like that," he praises you, his words coming out in a hiss as you clench down on him, your throat tightening in a futile attempt to keep his cock from pushing so deep into your airway. he whines when you withdraw, a string of saliva connecting you two.

"you taste so good, choso," you murmured, "have you had many girls do this to you?"

"n-no, miss, never," he groaned, "only you."

"and do you want only me to do this to you? do you want me to be the only one that knows how good you taste and how cute you sound?"

"yes! yes, miss! i want it to be only you, please," he babbled. you smirked and kissed his hip.

"well then, i better take good care of my boy, huh?"

"please, please," he whined, pushing his hips toward you.

"okay, i'll make you feel really good, sweetie."

you took his cock back into your mouth, licking at the tip and stroking the rest. his head was spinning and he could hardly breathe. you felt too good, looked too good, sounded too good. your soft lips wrapped around him, sucking and licking, teasing and pleasing. it was too much and yet not enough. his body was on fire, burning and aching.

his knees buckle as your warm hand palms his balls and your tongue traces the veins of his cock. he lets out a whine and grips your hair. you pull off his dick, letting it fall against his stomach. you press a few soft kisses to his tip, watching as his cock twitches.

"miss," he whimpered, "it hurts, please."

"what does, sweetheart?" you asked.

"please, let me cum, miss," he begged.

"already? did i make you that horny?"

"please, miss," he whined and bucked his hips.

"alright," you hummed, taking him back into your mouth.

"thank you," he breathed.

you bobbed your head, taking him as deep as you could. his fingers tightened in your hair and he bucked his hips. your nose pressed against his pelvis and your throat clenched around him.

"i'm close," he moaned, "i can't, fuck, it's so good."

a few more thrusts, and his movements become erratic. you're dizzy from oxygen deprivation, the edges of your vision growing dark, when suddenly his cock twitches inside you, and his hot, sticky cum fills your stomach. there's so much of it that you're actually able to feel yourself swell a little with the volume of his release, and the sensation makes you whimper and whine.

"you did so well," you cooed, crawling up and laying next to him, "was that your first time?"

"yeah. . . s-sorry i finished so quick." he mumbled, cheeks tinted brightly.

"you did so good," you repeated, pressing a kiss to his temple, he felt like he was going to pass out.

“i’ll see you tonight at the barbecue, yeah?”

he nods, fuck, you’re gonna be the death of him.

*peeps around corner* dare i say part 2?

[bnyf]

baby you're my bunny ♡

╭﹕୨୧﹒ bunny boy x female reader

┊ warnings : yandere content and themes, unhealthy behaviors, relationship and relationship dynamic, slight body horror me thinks? slight horror, perverted yandere, non consensual touching, suggestive, uhhh that's it me thinks :3

╰﹕୨୧﹒ authoress note : so sorry if it's badly written also sorry if it ends weird :/

no survival instinct what's-so-ever. like... none.

but he was not complaining! it was just a mere observation. perhaps you were unaware of your allure, maybe you were not exposed to the cruel world yet, didn't know how sick people and creatures can be.

well for one... your little secret admirer was not one of those adorable bunnies you'd fawn over, nothing even close really. and no, he's not some cute boy with a bunny tail and some bunny ears. he's far from cute, a little scary actually.

humanoid? sure! typical bunny boy hybrid, uhhhh not really lol! he's mixed with human genetics but he's not quit. and for a bunny hybrid, he sure had a lot of predator instincts.

to put simply, he was an abnormality of mother nature. his lower half resembled a bunny whilst his torso and up is that of a man. his claws on his feet or paws or whatever are dangerously long, digging into the dirt whenever he walks, leaving behind a "too small to notice unless your looking for it" trail.

a muscular, lean build, biceps so perfect and manly hands to hold you down if you even ever think of escaping, awe how sweet of him <3

completely pale skin with small patches of equally pale fur in various spots, completely crimson, blood shot eyes and a pair of floppy bunny ears where any normal human's ears would be.

how did he even came to be? you may ask. well he was a normal boy, once upon a time. but one day, he'd gotten into a serious accident, a near death life experience. that day he could've hear the bells of heaven ringing in his ears but he wasn't ready to die, not like this... in his head he begged for more time, asking whatever god above to answer his prayers.

and yeah! his prayers where answered but, as they say, be careful what you wish for...

the moon goddess answered his prayers, but she also cursed him for it is the price he must pay to live longer.

"i grant you more time, as much time as you may need, but for as long as you roam his earth, your soul belongs to me and your purpose, is to server me," her voice rang in his ears like a bittersweet melody before he'd lose consciousness.

when he awake, he found himself in the mountains, he was a monstrosity of a man and dared not step a foot into society. he's to bare this curse and blessing till death.

he became easily bored and clueless as to what to do next, his every day life felt null and everything felt too much to bare. his eternity just began yet he dreads his mistake with every passing day.

"maybe, i should of just accepted my faith and die that day..."

with nothing and no one, he was left to wonder the mountain and serve the goddess by praying to her and tending to her shrine everyday, he's trapped to keep her energy going so she won't become a forgotten god.

(guys i made the lore up on a whim so bare with me even i'm confused right now :0)

anyways! everything drastically changed for our boy here when you and your family decided to move to the village nearby in the rural area, and live a peaceful life and just run a nice little farm hooray! hopefully, you don't get stalked and preyed on by a lonely scarily tall bunny male hybrid who looks like a utterly angelic, celestial eldritch horror, right?

all he could think about was a pretty girl had moved in next door and he just had to watch her from afar. most the villagers were very welcoming of you and your family, it was big talk because such a pretty girl had just moved in the small village and all the villagers wanted their sons or grandsons to get married.

it doesn't have much young people, mostly elders and young children and even less marriageable women. which is why you easily became popular, with everyone always gifting you things, begging you to marry into their family. they even had a town welcome celebration for you and your family!

he watched everything from afar. feeling a slight sting in his chest. jealous? already? of course he is, he wanted you all for himself. for countless nights, he just couldn't sleep at all.

he spent all his time admiring you from afar. the way he'd blush, his heart beat fastening, the gears in his head would just slow down a bit. gosh, he actually felt his heart warm so much it'd burn in his chest.

he wanted you badly.

you were his new source of entertainment, motivation and inspiration all in one and his mind was melting with how needy he started becoming.

"what the f- she's so kind and pretty..."

"i wanna hug her, wanna kiss her, feel her skin on mine, love her, fuck her."

"she can be my little bunny princess~"

"wonder what our babies would look like? i'm getting heated just thinking about it"

it didn't help much when he found out you adored bunnies and would play with them near the spring. fawning over the little fluffy creatures, hugging them and petting them. and when you held them in your arms and give smooches while rubbing your face on their fluffy fur?!?!?

that's where his obsession becomes almost to much to bare, his entire chest area felt so warm watching you treat those bunnies with so much love.

"everything about her is so perfect, i'm starting to crave her like crazy right now."

"wanna whisk her away, take her, lock her up and keep her all to myself."

his mind starts getting clouding with so many dark thoughts of you.

and so, he start pushing boundaries and going outside his comfort zone to appease his little appetite that consist of you. at night, he sneaks in to steal a closer glance at you and probably a few things so he can remember your scent properly.

the whole house was dark, the whole village asleep by the time it was midnight hour. he'd manage to get in somehow somewhere but when he did, he immediately went to your room.

finally. he could smell and touch you as much as he wanted, his mind was actually in ecstasy when he entered your room, your scent gracing his nostrils as soon as he did, and the poor touch starved male couldn't hold back on touching you various parts of your skin.

"how delightful, her skin is so smooth and her hair feels so good, she smells like flowers all over gosh so fucking perfect, i wanna devour her, drink her up, chew her, spit her out and do it all over again" with every slight movement you make and whimper scaping your soft lips, he can't help but hold back his own voice, he wanted to moan just by being around you, it felt so good.

after so long, why wouldn't it feel great?

to be around around someone for once, to feel the heat of another person's body, the sweet scent of someone else other than himself. he'd lay in bed with you, his larger self cuddling your smaller form as smells your hair, trailing his hands all over you.

he was getting ahead of himself.

it takes everything within him to not proceed and do something to you while in your sleep. his morals along with his sanity were drifting away more and more.

time flies by when you're enjoying yourself, before he knew it he had to leave before the sun raises. forcing himself he does but he also takes like 5 things from you.

"promise i'll return your belongings my love, i just need a little souvenir to help myself with."

the poor thing gets sent into an early heat after that little interaction. he's embarrassed a little but he really needs you, like he really does. and he thinks of ways of introducing himself but... he's a monster, you would run from him and be scared. and when that thought comes to mind it makes him... sad.

"if i'd die that day, i'd never meet her, never be able to see her, but now that i'm alive with the help of the moon goddess, i can't even act normal about her. it's like i'm truly doomed."

this realization was tough. it made him sick to think about. and for a while, he was just okay with sneaking in to see you, and holding your unconscious body but he wanted a lot more, and he wanted your acceptance and love. he wanted you to want him the way he wants you.

it hurt even more when he mistakenly glanced in the mirror only to see a 6 feet tall, half human half hybrid bunny with a deadly eerie looking bloody stare, stare right back at him.

the pale moonlight leaking on him, hitting his skin almost making it look silver.

"she'd surely fear me, she'd run."

he's such a beautiful tragedy. would you be able to appreciate that?

[mcflymemes]

AS SAID BY GALE DEKARIOS *  assorted dialogue from baldur's gate 3

is that... is that truly you? i thought i might never see you again.

i love you, more than i've ever loved anyone. and you've proven your love for me in more ways than even the greatest mathematicians would dare to count.

you licked a dead spider. dead spider. you licked it. that is something that happened.

i think we need to get you some air and perhaps have a long talk about unresolved childhood issues.

stop licking the damn thing!

i see the art of eloquence is alive and well.

i'm awed, impressed, and a little bit scared of you right now.

nothing like a brisk stroll through the forest to invigorate the spirit.

i've never wanted to kiss you more than i do now.

right now, i need nothing more than a kiss.

tell me you feel the same way. tell me you want what i want. please.

i'll always have you.

you really would prefer me as i am?

do you doubt me?

you put the stars to shame.

let's sit here another while - i want to drink you in.

there you are.

you led me down this path.

i don't know myself anymore.

all this... it's not who i am. around you, i'm not who i want to be.

you really are absolutely heartless, aren't you?

i was hoping you'd spare me a moment.

this seems as good a time as any for me to stop babbling on.

i think you're rather wonderful. and that's not a word i waste on anyone unworthy of it.

go. enjoy your evening.

i like that about you. it's one of your rarer qualities.

i promise we'll make it work, if you'll have me.

what are you doing? stand back! now!

i thought i meant more to you than a sacrificial lamb. clearly i was mistaken.

you've brought me right where i need to be. i have no right to ask more of you.

you're plotting something, aren't you?

i go where you go.

i'm telling you, this is a mistake.

don't worry too much. a handful of powerful spells go a long way.

hold on! it's not too late to settle this without bloodshed.

mercy is not your strong suit, is it?

well... so much for my previous sentiment.

the choice is yours. there's really no good decision to be made here.

i'll be delighted to see you try... from a safe distance.

how generous of you.

there has to be a way to stop this thing!

i have no desire to end your life. you know that.

i see the glint in your eyes. you've a strategy in mind. the same one as me, i'd wager.

well, now that we know what it is, i suggest we leave it well alone.

better be careful around here.

i'll miss you, friend. your companionship has been quite the education.

i won't lie. i miss our group.

don't worry, i'll handle matters from here.

i'm ready. are you?

we must discuss it privately.

have you lost your wits? you must not do this!

we can't afford to let that happen.

they say madness and genius are separated by but a hair's breadth. perhaps the same is true of madness and stupidity.

you make me sound like some preening peacock.

i'm taking notes. making observations.

you're adorable even when you're teasing me.

you know what, i think i've clearly had far too much wine. and you've had nowhere near enough.

don't worry about me. i'm quite content to enjoy the party from here.

don't let me drag you away.

that, my friend, must remain a secret.

i do hope you know what you're doing.

might be the wine talking.

why am i doing this?

i'm sorry it had to come to this.

i'm going to bed. perhaps this was all a mistake.

careful. you don't know what i'm about to ask.

kill me, and i'll destroy the city anyway.

i want it to be perfect.

stay with me a while, will you?

i'm in love with you.

i'm many things, but coy's not one of them.

listen, i need to speak to you.

i might need you to be more specific.

i regret many things in life.

we all have our burdens, one way or the other.

i am as honored as i am enamored.

i am not the only one who longs for you... yet you chose me.

my time is yours. what do you need?

tell me, what can i do for you?

you need me?

you look... comfortable.

[munsster]

hey girl!! so i was rewatching season 3 and saw the part where max and eleven are playing the spin the bottle and spying on people and had an idea! what if the reader is babysitting them and the girls drag her in to play and they spin in on steve, so she’s like “alright that’s enough” bc she doesn’t want to invade on her friends privacy but she sits through it anyway, and she hears him talking to robin about how much he likes her and wants to ask her out. IDK i thought that was cute :))

don’t hate the game

A/N: UR SO RIGHT THIS IS SO CUTE. I’m so glad i FINALLYYY found motivation to tackle it <3 (gif creds: @buckysbarnes)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: The girls convince you to play an embarrassing party game from your past. It’s nothing like you remember. 2.4k words

Warnings: pet names (sweetheart, honey), ‘like’, overthinking, implied bullying, stupid pining, insecurity

It's a Friday night in the middle of summer, and you're wondering how you got here. Well, actually you're in your living room, so it's not that great of a mystery, but more confusing than that, you're letting two adolescent girls teach you how to play spin the bottle. If someone had told you at graduation that this is where you'd end up, you'd laugh right in their face.

Who's laughing now.

"But!" Max says, "if you hadn't noticed, none of these people are in the room, so how would we kiss them?"

You fight the urge to sink into your seat, blithely nodding and avoiding anything that might alienate you from your younger counterparts. You're almost sorry you surrendered your night to babysit two capable teens, but you promised El's dad who promised to pay you handsomely. Plus, they seem to like you enough to find you cool. Enough to tell you teenage secrets and complain about their boyfriends.

As they're explaining the rules, a memory creeps in of the first time you ever played this godforsaken party game. On Steve Harrington's floor in eighth grade. The cheers dying off as the mouth of the bottle slowed to a stop in your direction. No one expected him to actually lean over and kiss you. Or that you'd stay good friends despite his high school career soaring into stardom while yours sort of... didn't.

"We don't kiss them!" El chirps with an excited glint in her eye. The girls lean in like it's the first time they're hearing the rules but you're almost certain they made them up.

"Right. Instead, El here becomes our spy. I'm not exactly sure how it works, but she can see into their conversations or something. It's wicked." Max looks to El with something like admiration.

Intrigued, you glance down at the post-it notes arranged in a circle, scribbled with assorted names from yearbooks and yellow pages. A few you recognize: Mike and Lucas, one of the Hawkins Middle math teachers, even Will’s mom wasn’t safe from their antics.

But among the many names, you're most drawn to Steve. The way the letters loop and curl into his name, you go a little dizzy imagining that you really were playing the game. That he was seated across from you now. That he might lean over like he did the first time while your mind raced with a thousand possibilities. It's a prank or a dare or his wholehearted commitment to the game, anything other than his own free will.

You blink out of your silly, nostalgia-fueled trance when Max presses the cold glass bottle to your palm.

"You first."

They giggle and fall into each other when you half-twist the bottle. You're still in disbelief that you agreed to this as you watch the bottle spin, ticking off names as it loses momentum.

"Who is that?" you ask, leaning closer as if you'd read the yellow post-it wrong.

"Oh," El says. She cringes away from the board and crosses her arms over her chest in defiance.

"That bitch from P.E.," Max grumbles, and you have half a mind to scold her if you hand’t found universal bitch-aversion endlessly amusing. "You can spin again, she's not worth the trouble anyway."

You imagine your dream game once again. The bottle flies in the other direction at your fingertips, haywire and picking up a new gravity. It draws a wild, fiery line beneath your stare as you consider the possibility of Steve. It slows and slows until it's spinning almost at the same pace as Earth from a distance. Listening to the roaring sound of the universe as the bottle turns. Turns and turns and turns. Your eyes light up.

The girls giggle.

"No," you say sternly, regretting all your daydreams and fantasies in the face of cold, hard reality. "No, not Steve."

"Please!" they whine.

"Ladies, that's enough. He's a good friend, we're not spying on him."

They act like kicked puppies, though you know they're tricking you as they pout and bat their eyes. You know they know more than they should. About you. You and your feelings towards Steve Harrington. Something they discovered through a quiz in some teeny bopper magazine or other. Those magazines that somehow hold the secrets of the universe and the answers to every haircare question.

“Come on, I’ll make us popcorn and we can start a movie. A horror, if you really want.”

They seem satisfied enough, springing to the couch and settling into the cushions there.

The stove heats slowly. You fish through your cabinet for the last pan of Jiffy Pop, peeling back the thin cardboard cover when you hear snickering from the other room.

“What’s he saying?” Max whispers. You strain to hear her with your back pressed to the wall, just out of sight.

You shouldn’t be eavesdropping. You know better. You’re not a prepubescent girl anymore, you’re the babysitter with responsibilities. Like a job. Yet, you can’t seem to pull yourself away from the doorway. Every time you hear his name, your heart soars with what-ifs. You feel your eyes slip closed as El speaks.

“Steve is speaking to someone. I see her”—Your heart sinks—“Robin!”

You selfishly let out a breath. You’re mostly thankful he’s not spending his evening alone, but you also knew his friendship with Robin was strictly platonic. Robin had sworn by it without you even having to raise the question. You didn’t have to, she said, she could see it in your face. You wondered if Steve found you that transparent.

“He’s talking about… A girl. Her eyes. A smile. And he’s smiling, too. Oh, wait, now he’s frowning because Robin flicked him,” she says with a playful lilt.

She gasps.

“What?” Max yelps, shifting closer on the squeaky couch.

“Steve wants to confess his feelings. Big feelings, he says. Like-like.”

You not sure if that’s El’s paraphrase of Steve’s so-called big feelings or if the term like-like came from his own mouth. Neither option would surprise you. What does surprise you is that you’d never heard any of this from Steve before. You liked to think you were friends, even one of his best friends. He was surely one of yours. You told each other almost everything because you can’t exactly discuss complex relationships and sex with middle schoolers.

But you’d never heard of Steve’s seemingly new, mystery like-liker lover.

“He’s thinking of asking her out. Robin told him he might as well, it’s obvious that the girl he’s talking about likes him back. He doesn’t agree,” El says, her brows furrowed beneath the thick black blindfold, “Robin’s shouting. Steve looks sad.”

“What’s she saying?” Max whispers.

“Shh! ‘You like her so much, you might as well tell her and let her react. But I’ll say this, she’s going to say yes. That girl has been in love with you since the eighth grade’. He’s thinking.”

“Think faster, hair-brain!”

El giggles, her face suddenly falling serious. “‘Really?’” You stifle a laugh at the deeper voice she affects.

“‘She’s never said anything to me about it’. Robin looks angry. ‘Obviously, dingus! Do you go around telling people you’re in love with them?’”

“She has a point,” Max says. “Who’s he talking about?”

“I don’t know—Oh! Here we go,” El huffs, fists clenched eagerly, “He’s making a plan to ask her out, he’s going to call her. He’s getting up—”

Just then, the popcorn bursts from its aluminum confines with a bang. You let out a strangled noise between a yelp and a grumble, annoyed at the rude and very loud interruption. As you set the burner knob in place, you consider the fact that Steve has very real feelings for someone else. Someone who’s just not you. And as you shake the popcorn into a ceramic bowl, the landline rings.

“Will someone get that?” you call, grabbing a few small packages of sweets stashed in the cabinet. You hear the girls spring from the couch, and you shuffle into the living room to a giddy scene huddled around the receiver.

“Yes, she’s here!” El squeals. There’s a muffled response from the other line, and they share a conspiratorial glance.

“It’s for you,” Max says, handing you the phone with a smirk.

“Thank you. Go pick a movie while the popcorn’s hot.” You clear your throat, preparing yourself for the worst. Maybe your boss firing you or a repo man taking your TV. “Hello?”

“Hi, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to interrupt girl’s night, I can call back later,” Steve’s gentle voice filters clear through the speaker. In the silence, static hums, and you press the phone closer to your ear.

Trying to listen for what he might be thinking. He sounds like rain. Like Sunday and a lack of pressure. He sounds inviting and warm like that big green sweater he’s always wearing. If only you knew he wears it because you adore it. You tell him every time; why would he ever stop.

“No!” you chirp, “no, perfect timing actually, we were just about to start a movie.”

“Oh! That sounds fun,” he says. You fidget with the springy cord, facing away from the living room and from the attention of the two flittering girls.

“Yeah,” you say, hoping he doesn’t recognize the disappointment coloring your tone. “So, how’d it go?”

He chokes a little. “How’d… what? Go?” There’s a soft snicker from the other line at his incidental voice crack.

“Your… I mean, did you have something you wanted to tell me?”

The line dips, but you hadn’t heard the telltale plastic clatter of a hang up. Just soft shuffling and a curse from under his breath. You curdle at the near silence.

“What did Robin tell you?” he grumbles.

“What? Nothing. Was she supposed to?”

“Well, no! I just called to tell you—”

He goes silent, and this time you’re actually convinced he hung up. There’s no sound at all, and you double check your receiver to make sure the problem’s not on your end.

“Stevie?”

“Yep, sorry. Just… feel silly.”

“Okay, you’re starting to scare me a little,” you hum, clutching onto the handheld.

“No! Sorry, not trying to scare you, honey, I just need to get something off my chest. But it’s not scary. Or, well, I guess it could be taken that way, and that would be okay. A little sad, but yeah, no hard feelings—”

At this point, you’re sure he’s talking about his prospective date. He knows you have a stupid, obvious crush on him, and he’s trying to soften the blow of new romantic conquest. Of course, introducing his new girlfriend to you would be terrifying, but you’d always put on a brave face for Steve. He knows that. He’d do the same for you.

“Steve?”

“Yeah.”

“Just get it over with,” you sigh, leaning your head against the wall and bracing for heartache.

“Right. Not trying to waste your time. Here goes.”

I’ve got a new, smoking hot girlfriend who just agreed to go on a date with me. And she’s got beautiful eyes and a gorgeous smile, and I’ve been in love with her since I can remember, and we’re gonna run away together forever and get married and have perfect babies.

“I like you,” he huffs.

“Well, duh, I like you, too, you’re only my closest friend,” you say. You’re tense, waiting for the other shoe to come hurling through the skylight. “Now, tell me.”

“No, sweetheart, I like-like you. Have since I was nine. Miss Boyd’s class, if I’m not mistaken.” There’s a soft thud like his forehead colliding with the wall beside his phone.

You inhale a shaky breath. He’s kidding, and it’s a prank. Your heart races, and you want to curse him out for picking on you. He should know better. Right?

“Steve,” you warble, “please tell me you’re joking.”

There’s more shuffling, muffled voices, and you think you’ve just exposed one long drawn out joke. You’re about to hang up with what’s left of your dignity when he says:

“Are you rejecting me?”

He sounds almost mad. Hair ruffled, skin on edge. How you imagine his father might sound just before one of his awful fits. But there’s something much softer to Steve, more understanding. Hurt like a child.

Still, you can’t help you suspicion.

“Quit it. I know it’s a joke, don’t drag it out.”

“Hey, wait a second,” he urges, “It’s not a joke. I like you. A lot.” He says it so softly, your heart just might believe him. As if all the stars have aligned, and he’s actually confessing his feelings for you. You didn’t think the stars did that. Not really, anyway.

There’s a new tune to his voice you’d almost name teasing, “c’mon, don’t leave me hangin’.”

And just like that, he’s back in school again, fawning over you from a distance, finding an excuse to tag you during recess only to avoid you in class so you wouldn’t see him blush. He’s back to whispered secrets through the phone at midnight so he’s parents wouldn’t catch him. He only ever told you what wouldn’t give him away. He’s back to not letting you pay for your ice cream and shrugging it off with a smile. He’s back, and he might just be yours.

“I—Sorry, you like me? Like like-like, like enough to ask me on a real date?” you huff. He chuckles.

“Well, that last part kinda depends on whether or not you like me back. But yes, I like-like like like-like you.”

You spin to face the living room only to be confronted by an empty popcorn bowl and two fidgety, blushing, wide-eyed teens. They urge you for answers, gesturing wildly and wiggling towards you across the floor.

“Of course, I like you. I thought you knew.”

“Everyone keeps saying that. I guess I was too distracted,” he admits.

“I guess we both were,” you say, unable to keep a grin from your face, succumbing to joy as your fingers dance along the telephone cord.

“So, how about that date?” It escapes him barely above a whisper. He can’t believe he’s actually saying it after all this time. The only thing that convinces him it even came out is your soft laughter.

“Sounds wonderful!”

“Good!” he coos.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Great, yeah. That’s… I can’t wait.” He’s earnest until his cheeks hurt, and Robin teases him for it.

“Tomorrow, it is,” you purr, nearly in tune with the low hum of the receiver, “I’ll call you later.”

“Bye, sweetheart. Don’t forget: I like-like you.”

You smile, slotting the phone back into its place. A chorus of giggles erupts at your feet. Spin the bottle had been a good idea, after all.

stranger things masterlist

[danisbrainrot]

Teen nat comforting you when you're crying about something hcs?

natalie scatorccio x reader

a/n: we're so back! after the first two episodes of season three dropped I'm inspired by this ask. it's not head canons, sorry, I just liked the idea and wanted to write a little story about it.

sorry this must be at least six months late, but here it is! camp counsellor nat :)

spoilers ahead!! (technically? I think it's just season two spoilers though)

wiping the tears from your eyes, you sniffle into your lap, hunching over to take up as little space as possible. you just wanted to be out of everyone's way, not wanting to ruin the mood with your tears. everyone else was happy and celebrating surviving winter, while you felt stuck. frozen in time, still unable to move on from how much winter took from you girls.

first jackie. then crystal. then javi. . .

now springtime has rolled around, you can't help but feel the same dread you felt throughout winter—yes, it was lovely now and your team has cultivated a livable community. however, you couldn't help but wonder what happens next winter? When akilah's animals freeze to death, gen can't find game. . . when shauna goes crazy again.

you pause, wondering when was the last time shauna was sane. then, guilt creeps in as you realise that you had no right to judge her—not after everything she lost. her best friend. her baby.

"hey, are you okay?" nat asked, crouching down to your level.

you gasp in shock, wiping more tears from your eyes. your cheeks stung with embarrassment at getting caught—nat came out of nowhere, giving you no time to recuperate. "yeah, just. . . needed to let it out."

placing a comforting hand on your back, nat tried to offer you a reassuring smile. "hey, we all understand. it can feel daunting out here. if you ever need someone to talk, I'm here."

"oh I know, your majesty," you tease, eliciting a snort from nat—you could tell she hated the title. you sigh gently, signalling you were okay. nat pats your thigh, standing up when suddenly your hand flings out to grab hers. "do you think we're awful people? for eating javi? and jackie?"

nat pauses, her face dropping significantly. she bites her bottom lip, which you find insanely attractive, before shrugging. "we did what we had to. . . to survive."

"but if that's what it takes to survive, do we deserve to?" you question, clutching nat's hand firmly. the brunette looks down at you, her expression unreadable, before shaking her head.

"all I know is that it should have been me. javi. . . I still don't believe in lottie's bullshit about the forest, but I will never forget his sacrifice."

you nod, realising your questions were hurting natalie more than you'd meant for them to. you drop your hand, resting it in your lap and watch her walk away.

she swivels her head to look at you, words on the tip of her tongue, before she shakes the thought away and walks away.

late that night, you hear a rustle outside your makeshift hut. turning to your roommate, you find gen fast asleep, so you decide to investigate by yourself. you follow a sliver of light, someone's back to you as they watch the small flames dance.

"shouldn't you put that out? it's late," you ask, sitting next to nat on the campfire log. she glances at you, her face enchantingly illuminated by the flames, taking your breath away.

"just thinking," she mumbles.

"about our conversation before?" you ask, eliciting a nod in response. you stare at the fire, wondering if it was the heat from the dying flames that burnt your cheeks or the way nat looked.

"you didn't chase me. why?" she whispers, not daring to look you in the eyes.

"when we ate jackie, it felt different. . . she was already dead and we didn't cook her, the snow did. sure, it was cannibalism but it wasn't murder. . . if I had chased you—"

"you'd have actively tried to hunt me," she replies.

"it seemed wrong, even for us," you answer.

there was a beat of silence while you watch her gaze into the flames. you felt your heart race in your chest, working up the courage to tell her what you want to say, "it goes both ways," you promise. she looks up at you confused, "if you need someone to talk to, I'm here for you. . . and I'm sure it's not easy as the antler queen, especially with whatever shauna and mari have going on."

nat erupts into laughter, shaking her head. "don't get me started on those two," she replies, before her laugh fades to a small smile. she places her hand on your shoulder, "but I like the idea. we look out for each other."

"You'll be the queen and I'll be your—wait what is it called. . . the people royalty lean on for support. . . oh, concubines?" your face drops when you notice nat's face. her eyebrows are raised and tries to cover her mouth and stifle her laughter.

nat can no longer hold it in and burst into laughter again, "that doesn't mean what you think it does," she teases.

"oh, that's the sex one. isn't it?" you mutter, lowering your head to avoid her gaze. nat tucks her hair behind her ears, making you think about how she managed to rock the grown out look. she suited blonde, brunette and a combination of both.

nat notices you watching her intensely, "what? is there something in my hair?" she asks, raking her hands through it swiftly.

"no, no. just wondering if you miss the blonde?"

"well, it's still there, isn't it?"

you snort, "yeah, but the full blonde?"

nat shrugs, "more important things to worry about," she replies candidly.

you reach out to play with the blonde hair, twirling it around your finger. unknowingly, you'd accidentally brought her face closer to yours. she didn't seem to mind, but once you realise your cheeks burn and you shuffle away from her. "sorry," you mumble.

"come here," she replies, grabbing the back of your head and pulling you close.

your lips connected seamlessly, like your lips were made for each other. she kisses you softly, a reassurance that she was here for you, while her fingers tangle themselves in your—already tangled—hair.

after what felt like only a minute—but could have been longer—nat gently pulls away, a string of saliva all that connected you two. she runs her thumb over your bottom lip, cleaning away the evidence, and offers you a wonky smile. "I suppose every queen needs her concubine after all," she jokes.

"that was amazing," you whisper, still in awe. she laughs again, resting her forehead against yours.

[bratbarzal]

Maggie!!! Here is my fire blurb request for your event!

Coworkers to lovers with dawson pretty pretty please 🥰🙏

With the prompt " if you’re still wondering who left those flowers at your desk, i think i’m ready to put your mind at ease.”

✩‧₊˚ bratbarzal's valentines event!˚₊‧✩

"if you’re still wondering who left those flowers at your desk, i think i’m ready to put your mind at ease.” SWEET SWEET SYD as agreed not technically valentines themed and a little more generic for you I hope you like it!! I tried to put some chaotic syd vibes in here lmao in my head I saw co-worker and straight went to the office vibes lmao you're so kelly!!

"I think I have a stalker."

Dawson looks up from his computer after what feels like hours, his eyes starting to swirl and his head starting to spin, as your wheely chair bumps into his, the collision bringing him out of whatever spreadsheet-induced haze he had just found himself in and diverting his attention straight to you - just how you like it.

"Good morning to you, too." He frowns, not sure how he feels about that statement being the first thing he's heard from you so far today. It's Monday, he hadn't seen you over the weekend, and so the last thing he had seen of you was Friday, which feels like a lifetime ago. The two of you didn't drive in together, for once, with you having a meeting off-site with your boss, and he has been seriously knocked off his groove.

His coffee hasn't tasted right, his computer has crashed more times than he cares to count, and he thinks someone has been messing with the height settings on his chair, because something feels off.

"It's," you grab his wrist and turn, checking the time on his watch, "11:45, it's hardly the time of day for good mornings."

He snatches his wrist back before slumping in his chair, his knees knocking against yours as he runs a hand through his already-messed hair, sighing heavily at the fact it isn't even noon, and he still has half a day ahead of him.

"I'd argue any time of day before noon is the time of day for good mornings, but I'm already bored of this conversation."

You scowl, a familiar playful glint in your eye that lightens the heaviness on his shoulders - something he's missed since he stepped foot into the building this morning.

Everyone else has been getting on his nerves, and despite all the ways in which you purposely try, you only ever really do the opposite.

"Rude," you pout, kicking lightly at his ankles and scooting back to avoid a kick-war, needing to have the last word before it gets out of hand and he gets you to give in and let him win. "It's like you don't even care that I'm being stalked. You'll be sorry when they start coming for you - stalkers don't like the best friends, haven't you ever seen You?"

He rolls his eyes, straightening in his seat and clasping his hands together in his lap - a sign that he means business to anyone else, but a sign that he's no doubt mocking the seriousness of this discussion to you. "Why do you think you have a stalker?"

"Because someone left a serial killer note on my desk this morning." You slam it down onto the surface in front of him, a psychopathic scrawl of, You can poppy over any time, with a drawing of a poppy beside it.

Dawson laughs - because of course he finds it funny.

"How is that a serial killer note? It's a pun."

"It's crazy, is what it is. It's the gateway into leaving locks of hair in my drawer, Dawson. I'm afraid I'm going to go to my car later and there will be a lurker in the backseat."

"Because of a drawing of a flower?" He scoffs, placing two fingers atop the note and sliding it back over to you. "If this even is a gateway, I think the escalation rate between this and someone hiding in your car is pretty steep."

"You would say that," you glare pointedly, the amused smile only furthering your - mostly exaggerated - irritation. "Such a male response. You will never understand the perils of being a woman in modern society."

"Yeah, how dare I think you're being dramatic," he smirks, "You're gonna want to hold onto that, keep it in a safe place in your desk, y'know, for evidence."

"You'll be sorry when I'm someone's basement bride and you have no one to entertain you around here, anymore." You warn him, snatching the paper back and wheeling away toward your own desk, flipping him off as you go.

--

For the first time in what feels like forever, your work week is pretty hectic - going here there and everywhere around town trying to appease your boss, and your time in the office is limited - which means your time with Dawson is limited, too.

Just enough every day to catch him up on the evolution of your stalker's crazy behaviour.

Tuesday starts off pretty normal - he gives you a ride to the office, your morning is pretty slow, and then you have back to back meetings, missing lunch and only just plonking into your seat before the end of the day.

And there, just where a similar note had been yesterday, you find another.

It's a daffodil this time, bright yellow, with the corresponding joke, you're a daffodil-ight to be around.

You scowl at the paper as if your glare will set it alight, reading it over again before you're shooting up and stomping straight over to Dawson.

He's on the phone, this time, twirling the cord around his finger as someone yaps his ear off on the other side, one leg crossed over the other as he turns side to side in his chair. He looks up at you, the completely bored expression he holds never shifting, and you gesture dramatically at the note you've just slammed down onto his desk.

He leans over, phone still pressed to his ear, and squints to read it, smiling immediately as he looks back up at you.

"It's cute!" he mouths, a lopsided smirk forming as you scoff in response.

"It's insane." You mouth back, finger jabbing into your temple to make a point before you're headed back to your desk, throwing yourself dramatically in your seat and folding your arms like a petulant child.

Daffodil-ight?

This can only be someone's idea of a cruel joke. You've never been described as a delight in your life.

Someone wants to cuff you to a radiator in their mom's basement, you're almost certain of it.

--

"I think it's Dave in accounting," is the first thing you say to Dawson on Wednesday - the two of you taking the steps down a couple floors, walking in sync as you so often do when you take your lunch break together. "The flower thing, today's was a dead giveaway. I'm being groomed."

"I don't think you can be groomed once you become an adult," he chimes back, holding the door open for you when you reach the ground floor, and you turn back to scowl as you duck under his arm.

"I don't think you're the authority on that," you tell him, "And as my closest friend around here, you really should have my back with this, it's harassment."

"It's drawings of flowers, babe," he chuckles, the term of endearment slipping out before he can really think about it, but it feels too normal to get weird about it.

"Today's was creepy, Dawson," you whine, "Like the kind of letter they write using magazine cut-outs for a ransom note!"

"What did it say?"

You reach into your pocket and hand it over, I think we're Mint to be, with a green mint leaf drawn beside it.

"And what about this is screaming Dave from accounting?"

"He gave me a strip of gum once," you groan, "I've felt weird about it ever since."

He barks out a laugh as the two of you cross the parking lot, throwing his arm over your shoulders to guide you toward his car, the warmth from his torso doing little to melt your icy exterior, your own body going frigid at his amusement.

"Don't laugh," you shove at his side, the action only causing him to laugh louder. "It's like taking candy from a stranger. Now I'm gonna have to suffer with God-awful jokes and kindergarten level drawings for the rest of my sad existence."

"Aw, bud," Dawson pouts, mockingly, "Try stay posie-tive."

"I'm gonna kick your ass."

--

Thursday takes the cake for being the creepiest note you've received yet - and the worst part of it all, is that Dawson isn't even around for you to show it to him - off-site for a presentation with a client somewhere else in town - and you're left to your own devices, stashing the note with the others in the drawer, chewing at the skin beside your thumbnail and tapping your foot nervously as you wrack your brain over who could possibly be writing, Lilac the ability to control myself any longer.

--

You don't think you've ever been more thankful for a Friday in your life - so ready for it to be the weekend - to be away from the office and away from these stupid notes.

You know deep down that there's hardly any danger behind them, but you're an over-thinker, if anything - and the countless possibilities as to who could be sending them and why are weighing on your mind.

If it isn't someone who wants to kidnap you and move you to a remote location in a woodland cabin, never to be found, then it's someone with an actual crush - and you're so bad at saying no to people that you're now probably doomed to marry some corny, flower loving creep, anyway.

It weighs on your mind throughout the day - so much so that you don't even realise you don't get a note by the time you're finishing.

You don't realise a lot of things.

And you only realise that when you're pushing through the doors downstairs into the early evening, and Dawson isn't by your side.

He's been back and forth to his desk all day, in and out of meetings, on and off calls, and you've been distracted, yourself - but he usually drives you home, especially on Fridays.

You venture a little further into the parking lot, just to see if his car is still around - and sure enough, it's in his usual spot. You can see him leaning against it from the other side, his back to you, and you assume it's best to go around rather than jump straight in, figuring he probably has plans and can't give you a ride today.

You walk past the front of his car, and at the sound of footsteps, he turns. His movements are slow, and so are yours, and so the reveal of what he's holding, or hiding, happens like something out of a movie.

"If you're still wondering who left those flowers at your desk, I'm ready to put your mind at ease."

He's holding a bouquet - one that looks expensive, wrapped in that nice brown paper and held together with twine - a mix of pinks, light and dark, purples, greens and a bit of white, different flowers that don't look like something he picked up at a gas station.

"It was you?" You gasp, stepping closer to admire the flowers, a bouquet so fresh and full of life, clutched in his almost-shaky grip.

"Figured I had to come clean before you went to the cops." He chuckles, handing them over and watching you pluck the small card from the middle.

The note inside has no drawing this time - short and sweet - Thanks for being my best Bud, and this time, instead of horror, it brings a slow smile to your lips.

"I can't believe it's been you this whole time, why didn't you say anything? I said you had the drawing skills of a toddler, Dawson!"

"You know I like it when you're mean," he winks, stepping closer, "You should have known, though, who else around here would think you're a delight?"

Your cheeks flush as he says it - realising you probably should have known. He's found this whole thing so funny, and he's the only one in the office with the slightest sense of humour and love of pranks.

No one else could probably even think of something like this - let alone actually carry it out, planting notes while you're busy doing God-knows what and watching you spiral out.

He's probably had the time of his life.

"I could have gone on, but I could tell you were getting freaked out."

"No shit." You chuckle, nervous now, with flowers heavy in your hand, that you've been so ungrateful.

"Didn't even get to use my favourites - like the one about how you get violet when you're mad." He nudges you, stepping closer again, and when you lower the bouquet, you realise he's straight in front of you now, looking down with that amused glint in his eye that always makes your heart beat a little faster. "Ya get it? Violet? Like violent?"

You swat the bouquet lightly at his arm - enough to thwack at him but not enough to damage it, and he grins - big and amused.

"See." he smirks, "Or the best one."

"I dread to think what the best one is if the rest of them have been so bad."

"It's something about my tulips," he winks, leaning in and pressing two lips to your cheek, "I'll let you think about that one, though.

[maggotfurby]

Ticci Toby:

         (Solitary  confinement: Feelspasta)

          Written by MaggotFurby

(Trigger warning: if you feel incredibly upset grab a tissue or offended while reading this pasta, you can scroll pass it. as it contains scenes of emotional betrayal and heartbreak; reader discretion is advised)

Tobias Erin Rogers; now a twenty-eight year old man who lived his life free from escaping authority along with his girlfriend, Natalie. Those two were inseparable, a power couple as some would say… But even though their love was strong, as depressing as it may sound. It did not last long.  The incident happened over a year ago, it was getting close to Valentine’s day and it was their tenth anniversary. Toby was preparing to ask her the famous question since he had saved up a bit of money by smuggling money from the dead victims wallets after he killed them. Toby wrote the words in his head of how he would propose to her in an appropriate and healthy manner without acting like a nervous wreck. 

So far, things were going along just fine with Natalie. Her partnership with Toby was great, of what she could ask for…until she had a dream where that love turned into something sour. Clockwork often had vivid dreams/realistic nightmares that put her into a dark, and somber mood. The dream was that Toby, like father like son, verbally and physically abused Natalie. The pushing, shoving, punching and yelling seemed too real to handle.  Natalie was a victim of abuse in the past, so it was nothing new.  She started to have doubts about her relationship with Toby, since she tried to help him forget his past and dealing with severe depression. He wouldn't budge. One time, Toby accidentally scolded Natalie when she interfered with the hunt, wanted to lend a hand. The victim Toby was trying to kill got away scott free.

His tone was full of murderous malice as he was in the middle of a psychotic episode. That sure made Natalie visibly upset and she ran off away from him. Toby got his composer back and chased after her, frantically apologizing for what he had done to her.  He tried to calm her down but Clockwork pushed his hand away from her and scolded right back at him, saying “how dare you speak to me that way, what have I ever done to you?!” while having angered tears poured out from her one eye. 

Toby stepped back and dropped his head down, the wave of guilt flooded his face as he stressfully twitched . “Natalie, I'm so sorry…I didn't mean too…please I'm sorry” Toby whimpered in shame, full of sincere regret. 

“Please don't be upset with me…I promise I won't yell at you again, I swear…! I'm sorry!”.

“Tobias…” Natalie replied. She would use his full first name whenever she felt incredibly upset or feeling annoyed.

“Look… I know what you did was wrong but what you said to me back there…that really hurt, Rogers. I thought you knew me. I've told you about my past, and yet, you've made it return with that sentence alone…” 

“please…I'm sorry, Natalie…” Toby said back, trying not to break down right in front of her. 

“Toby, I'll be fine. It'll take a while for me to forgive you, but not right now.” 

A few days passed by and they were back together and forgave each for what happened.  Toby was preparing to meet up with Clockwork over by the hillside later that night to surprise her with a lovely dinner date. Her response over text was typical, she barely used emojis because she wanted her conversations to be serious. It was almost around 8pm, Toby patiently waited for Natalie to visit over at the picnic Toby spent hours preparing for. He wore an outfit that was formal and well kept; a black formal suit. He combed his hair making it less messy than before. He set a small table with a single candle lighting the romantic scene. 

He sat down and waited for her, one hour turned to two…two became three…

Toby was beginning to feel worried, did Natalie get distracted with another hunt? Maybe she was late because of that…? 

Toby was about to stand up from his seat and instantly stood up when he finally saw Clockwork walking around the corner of the woods. strangely, she still wore her usual outfit. Whenever they're on a date, she would often wear a long black dress and wore a pearl necklace Toby gave to her for her birthday. 

“Rogers…this looks…nice?” Clockwork said in her chill expression with a hint of curiosity.

“ looks like you outdid yourself, you look professional”. 

“Aw, don't mention it…I tried to make it special” tried to sound confident if it weren't for his constant ticks. “I've been planning this for a long while…” 

“It seems like it” Natalie replied. “But, Toby…” She was almost going to tell Toby the sad news about their relationship but Toby happily interrupted her with a sincere and caring voice while gently holding her hand. 

“Natalie…I love you. Sure, I've made mistakes in the past but tonight. This will definitely make it up for it…” 

Toby reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a small velvet blue box. 

“T-toby…? What is this?” Clockwork said in confusion. Instead of infatuation what Toby expected from her.

“What…? I-its a ring…I got it for you” Toby responded with a hint of concern in his tone, almost sounding confused as well. Inside was an emerald diamond crested engagement ring. The most gorgeous ring you could've ever had. 

“...Toby, please…we need to talk…it's about us” Natalie slowly lets go of Toby's hand. Toby closed and placed the ring box back inside his pocket. “What's wrong, Natalie. Was there something I did that upset you…?”

“No…it's not you, Toby. Look, what you did was romantic and all, but I think this is not really worth our time together… I've been thinking about this for a long while now and made a decision for myself.  I'm sorry, I don't want to continue any further with our relationship.” Natalie confessed.

Toby was silent, his eyes widened when she told the painful truth. 

“I know…you're upset with me. This is what I was expecting. But you probably knew it would not last long, Rogers. I do appreciate you wanted to patch things up about our relationship but…it's your troubles from your past, Toby. No matter how hard I try to fix the problems, you always deny and push me away from helping you. It made me feel like I was nothing but a burden”.

As Clockwork continued on with her sincerity, until Toby responded in a saddened yet angered quiet voice. “Why…? Why do you want to get rid of me so badly? How did I make you feel like a burden when all I ever wanted was some closure… We've been together for ten years, Natalie…TEN YEARS.” 

“Toby, I'm sorry…! I didn't mean to make you upset. I'm just telling you how I really feel…-” 

“So what…? So you can just run off and leave me alone and make me feel miserable again? I thought we were meant to be together… but turns out I was wrong…” Toby stopped and withheld himself while facing away from her with disgust and betrayal on his face.

“...Toby, please I-”.

“Leave.” 

“Wh-what…?” Natalie replied in a near crying tone. 

“please…just leave. It's over, we're done” Toby said coldly. 

Clockwork abruptly got up from the table and ran off into the far woods with heavy tears rolling down her face. 

Since she left, Toby went into an emotional outburst. He angrily threw the table over and stomped on the candle, extinguishing the small flame. Then he punched a nearby tree, he pummeled his fists into the bark so much that his hands were covered with broken shards of wood and splitters. Some pierced through his pale hand as blood oozed out. 

After the unnecessary self-inflicted injuries, he catched his heavy breath, his face still filled with anguish and sadness; tears heavily fall from his eyes. 

“God… why do you hate me so much…? Toby said to himself as he sat down on the ground as his back laid against the exact tree he injured himself with.  He curled up into a fetal position and cried loudly. His throat strained and raw from his screams of sorrow, as the birds flew away when they were spooked by his extreme meltdown. 

He curled up himself tighter, his eyes tight shut. Then a blinding light caught him off guard from his depressing moment, a police helicopter hovered over him with its spinning blades blowing rapid winds surrounding his location. 

“TOBIAS ERIN ROGERS. YOU ARE UNDER ARREST FOR THE COUNTESS MURDERS AND AVOIDING LAW ENFORCEMENT. PLEASE COME FORWARD AND COMPLY. IF YOU CHOOSE TO LEAVE, YOU WILL BE SHOT DOWN. STEP INSIDE THE HELICOPTER” The loud speaker shouted by one officer inside the copter. 

Toby looked up at the hovering craft, knowing he would be sent away for a long time. So, he had to choose to fulfill their word. He stepped forward and placed his arms up in the air in surrender. Two other officers climbed out and detained Toby and carried him inside the helicopter. Suddenly, Toby got clobbered in the back of the head by the cop behind him. Before Toby passed out, the cop muttered under his breath “This is for my son, you fucking bastard…” 

Toby woke up in a daze, his sight blurry for a few seconds. Around him, he was surrounded by padded walls and he was constricted with a straight jacket. He couldn't move his arms at all due to them being locked within the jacket. 

He grunted with frustration as he struggled to remove himself from his constraints. Only fueled his anger even more.  “H-Hey…! Someone? Help! get me out of here! Get me the fuck out of here!!” 

“Toby…? My son, is that really you?” a familiar voice spoken through the intercom from the roof part of the padded cell. 

Toby turned his head at the glass window attached to the cell… The person was his dear mother, Connie. 

Connie looked older now, in her late 50's and still wore her favorite green sweater she would often wear. 

Toby: …M-mom? 

Connie: Yes, honey…! It's me, sweetheart. Oh, I'm so happy I finally found you again…I've missed you so much. 

Toby: What happened…? Where am I…? Mom, please. Get me out of here, I don't belong here…!

Connie: Toby, sweetheart… You're in a mental institution. The police found you last night and detained you here… Honey, I can't just let you go, it is against the law to do so. You're not well, son. You've been through so much. 

Toby: …I thought you loved me, mom…

Connie: Honey, I still love you. But murdering people doesn't solve problems, son. You need to stay here. I know that sounds harsh but this is for your own good.  But I can visit you every weekend and check up on you so you wouldn't feel alone. 

Toby: …I'm always alone…

Connie: Pardon?

Toby: I've been alone since my sister died, mom. Don't you remember? Not only that…Natalie left me.

Connie: Who's Natalie, sweetheart? 

Toby: You…wouldn't get it. She's in the past now. 

Connie looked up at her son with great sympathy and responded back. 

Connie: Oh, honey… I'm so sorry.  I know, heartbreak is fairly common, son.  

Her conversation cut short when a staff member stepped up next to Connie.

Sm: Alright, ma'am. Visit time’s over. 

Connie turned back to her son before walking with the staff employee. 

Connie: Goodnight, son. See you next Saturday… I love you. 

His mother left. Now Toby was alone again. He fell back onto the padded floor and stared up at the padded ceiling. His head ringed, a loud, screeching ring pierced through his ears. Slenderman was trying to locate where he was. 

“N-no…! Leave me alone…leave me alone. You ruined my life…! Please leave me alone!” He screamed and screamed. Two institution staff members rushed him and pinned him down. One of them jabbed a syringe into his leg. A sedative that made Toby cease and fell asleep cold. 

                       One year later…

The day was the same as any other day. Tobias Erin Rogers, now twenty-nine years old. Still held captive at the Denver mental institution for the unwell. He was resting at the corner of his cell, his eyes shut, as he tried to fall asleep since he hadn't slept in days. His mother came by for the usual weekend visit, the same old responses back and forth. 

But that day…was different. After his mother left. Toby tried to fall asleep in peace. ‘til he heard a small movement from the window. He picked up his head and tilted his sight towards the direction of where the sound was coming from.  His half-lidded eyes gazed up and saw a young woman. It wasn't Natalie, nor his mother but a young twenty-four year old woman. She was about 5’3ft, wore a dark purple denim jacket with a raggedy black t-shirt along with black jean pants and black shoes. Her skin was pale but slightly peachy, had strawberry blonde hair with tired, bright hazel emerald eyes that complimented well with her jacket. She was holding the microphone that was attached to the outside speaker. Toby slowly got up and walked over towards the mysterious visitor, gazed down at her with a look of eccentricity. Her name tag read “Caryn”. That was her name. 

A moment of silence passed when the woman first spoke:

Caryn: Hi…you must be Toby?

(This is a prequel pasta for Rescue mission 1 & 2, thank you for reading ) 

(note: I cried while writing this 😢)

[cantfightmoonlight]

"Um actually," She muttered under her breath, as she snuck a peek Aaliyah's way, not bothering to actually point out how saying 'that doesn't exactly sound like you care' is opinion and not a fact though. Not after she was called a fucking nerd in a nearly endearing sort of way. The corner of her lips tilted up ever so slightly at the sentiment. Though any semblance of a smile fell just as quickly as it appeared when Aaliyah carried on. "No, I don't know you, just as you don't know a thing about me. Though, your whole don't give a shit routine, doesn't exactly make me want to?" She countered. Her gaze moved back to fixating on the crowd out on the dance floor as she admitted quietly, "I have enough people in life who may or may not be genuine. I'm not really up for having to decipher another one. Just as an FYI."

"That's bullshit!" She scoffed under her breath as her gaze snapped back toward Aaliyah's. "I had already stopped and if you truly cared about making sure the starving vampire controlled herself then why not tell the one person antagonizing said vampire to shut up? I wasn't going to bite Frankie. Not after Poppy had stepped in. I might have shoved Jake, but you can't tell me he wouldn't have deserved it and, last I checked, pushing someone over isn't against any accords," She huffed. "So the coven advisor's sister gets special treatment? The witches are nepotists, is that it?" She could feel the anger rising in the back of her throat at the hypocrisy of the situation, but when Aaliyah said 'He was acting out of fear' any bite to her words were replaced by blatant distain. "Fear? The six foot white boy whose built like a linebacker and can fucking electrocute people with his bare hands was acting out of fear over what? A teary-eyed 5'6 brunette decked head to toe in pink?" She asked, as if clarify, despite knowing the hypocrisy of the situation all too well at this point. "The witches are the ones who created us, weren't they? That's what it says at the Historical Society. A coven sought power and immortality, so they invented a whole other species. It was witch magic that trapped us in the Emerald Hotel and the Rec Center, wasn't it? And it was witch magic behind pretty much every hellscape the Catalyst put us through over the past two years and, yet, we're the ones to be afraid of?" She lifted a brow up at Aaliyah as she found her jaw tightening even more in resignation. "Because we have fangs, we have to suck it up and wait to get back at them strategically, because we're the ones who have to prove we're not a threat? Okay."

"You know when I came back from the dead, a witch called me a murderer," Her voice dipped into a low murmur as her gaze fell once more. "They told me I was living a life that belonged to another, and, yet, when the pretty blonde supreme died, the entire coven voted to kill someone on her behalf. She was the leader. They 'needed' her, while I was a different story. And you wonder why I don't see a point in a caring anymore. We're always going be the monsters and, the more we treat ourselves differently from the humans and the witches and the fae and the wolves who can't control themselves either, the more we're all going to believe it too."

"I... I'm sorry your sire was a piece of shit. Truly. I can't imagine what that was like. But, my sire murdered me and the left me on my own. So, let me ask you something, from someone whose been trying to figure it out by myself- do you honestly think that your advice would suck more than the trial and error I've already been enduring?" She asked her genuinely, because if getting help was truly worse than wasn't this all futile anyway?

"Are you for real right now?" Her expression twisted into a look of horror as Aaliyah actually laughed before her. "Or maybe you really are a monster," She shook her head in disbelief. "Humans aren't weak and I would never dare act like they are and, if you ever have, then you are the weak one for needing to make someone feel small so that you can feel tall. He doesn't need anything from me. But, we protect each other, because that is what a partnership and love is. I didn't think I'd have to tell you that and I'm not fighting anyone's battles for them. I'm defending the man I love and I know he'd defend me too if someone called me a name to his fucking face and, if you do it again, then we will have nothing else to say to one another." And she meant it. While, she was willing to accept that Aaliyah and her might never see eye to eye on certain issues, if the woman before her truly believed that humans were inferior, then she was no better than any other prejudice asshole in this town who considered vampires to be freaks.

"We can agree to disagree. Death is a part of life. We all experience it eventually. But, those skulls in the wall are sad because no one cared about them enough to give them their own resting place and you're really not helping your case right now when that roommate of mine is a vampire and a clan member who likely needs your help even more than I do," She pointed out. "It's a movie." Though now that she thought about it, Aaliyah might be more similar to Lord Farquaad than Shrek, though she wouldn't say that part outloud on the off chance the woman actually googled it.

"I didn't plan the party," She muttered under her breath. "And the word people is plural, implying that there is more than one. One would be a person and, yes, I know I'm a fucking nerd. Though, I'm sorry you what? If you wanted me to step out of the booth you could have just asked. It wasn't as if I was going to carry on this long of a conversation through a screen door anyhow and I didn't ask for any of this. I wanted a small funeral themed birthday party between me and two of my friends two years ago in celebration of my new life and as a fuck you to the exe who killed me. Only they forgot until now when I was surprised with this and... if you mean it when it comes to helping me, then... I'll try it. I'm not saying I won't complain, but I'm not against hard work. Though, if it doesn't work, I'm allowed to walk away and I mean it when I say no more insulting Ben in front of me. Trying to piss me off, isn't tough love. It's being a dick and I'm not going to put up with that kind of shit."

"I told her while she was sunbathing at the country club that she wasn't a meal on display," Aaliyah said, raising an eyebrow. "I might have also mentioned that to both of you, but, really, I'm not going to spill species secrets around just anyone. That's how I was taught. Was it wrong? Probably." She laughed quietly before rectifying it. "Absolutely." She sighed. "Okay, smart ass. Keep 'um, actually'-ing me, you fucking nerd." She wasn't attempting biting, and she hardly found herself to be defensive. It was mildly amusing, and there was something close to pity, but Aaliyah made it a habit not to really pity anyone. A product of her upbringing, both living and unliving. "Again, you don't know me, Brielle. Very few do, I get that. I go for that. But you can't just state hard facts about me, like who or what I care about, without actually knowing me." She took the clan position because maybe, just maybe, she cared too much. Aaliyah didn't really have the language for it, but she cared deeply about the state of the vampires in this wretched town. Enough to sift out the tough love. Enough to take up the mantle of leader while only really wanting to desperately search for her friend, one of only a handful that she'd ever had in centuries.

Aaliyah just shook her head. "No, you're right, I didn't give you the chance to make a rational decision because we don't get those extra moments, Bri. We don't get the choice of, oh, I'll be a little mad. A human woman not controlling herself? She might yell, maybe hit. Perhaps she could cause some damage. A starving vampire not controlling herself?" She shook her head. "I'm not going to sit in front of the council while those fucking witches drag a clan member through the mud for fucking eating someone at a party. I won't even risk the chance of that happening. So was it rash to grab you? Perhaps. Would I do it again? In a heartbeat. I was protecting the best interest of the clan, I was protecting you, hell. I was protecting your fucking boyfriend from the potentiality of having to listen to your trial while Meena and I have to figure out your punishment. Something that wouldn't have been light for even contemplating hurting the coven advisor's sister." She got what Bri was saying, but there hadn't been much she could do about Jake. "His words were cruel. He was acting out of fear. Does that mitigate it? No. If he doesn't apologize, then I can offer to rip out his tongue, but he also wasn't my priority in that moment. Suck it up in that moment, yes, but wait. Get back at them strategically. I do recall telling you that I didn't want to put you in a box."

Any effort to get through seemed to be a mission in futility. Aaliyah almost didn't understand what she was trying to accomplish. "I'm not trying to be menacing. I'm being honest. You won't like it because it sucks. It will suck. It's not a pun. When you have control issues, when you have feeding problems, it's not easy. It fucking sucks, and it continues to suck for years. I think that you could have an easier time of it than I did. You wouldn't have to deal with my sire, for one. If you think I'm a bitch, then you have no idea. And you have a daylight ring." She was almost wistful, just for a moment. "I missed the sun so much. Longed for it. I used to try and grind up marigolds. I thought if I could put it on my skin, the way that they sooth and heal would help. It didn't. I burned, many times. I was called a fool. She was right, of course, but." She gave Bri a long look. "It doesn't matter if you were or weren't meant to be this. You are this. You have to find a way to live like this."

Aaliyah couldn't help it. She laughed, actually happy. "I'm really not, but it's nice of you to come out of the closet. I have been rather curious if you fight all of Professor anak Bandi's battles for him, even the ones he's unaware of. You were practically ready to break his computer when he was Zooming into council meetings. I've always wondered how human lovers must feel. Do they find themselves as weak as we so often act like they are? Does he need your protection as much as you offer it?" She couldn't help the curiosity, and it was genuine. She'd never stayed with a mortal for so long as to see them as anything more than a temporary fascination. She'd only turned a handful for companionship, but she'd never been especially coddling of any of them. "It's beautiful. Mankind used to spend hundreds, sometimes thousands of years building monuments, cathedrals. Some desperate clawing at permanence. And they are sad. But... ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Whether you're a skull in the wall or dust in the wind, it's sad because they're dead, not because of their eternal resting place." She snorted. "I've lost my touch if the only reason you think I'm a bitch is because I insult your boyfriend. I think I've also kicked your roommate out of my club three times. Her picture's on the wall, now. Do Not Allow Entry. And what is a Shrek?" she asked, like she hadn't seen the movie when it first came out, a fascinating innovation in animation. "I like to think that I have layers like a hornets' nest. Far more applicable." Full of tiny, dangerous little components packed with stinging, hateful creatures.

The irony, in Aaliyah's eyes, was that Brielle was just as set in her own thought processes as she believed everyone else was set in their opinions about her. "I really haven't heard the eulogies. Such a thing is fun in theory, less so in practice. Making an entire town come to a party and then speak about someone that they may not properly know very well is a well intentioned idea that is, more often than not, less than ideal in practice. Besides, I didn't say that everyone in this goddamn town cares about you, I said people. You still have people that care about you. Maybe it's one hundred, maybe it's just one, but that can be enough. And Benjamin has lived here long enough to understand the risks. I remember the former Coalition leader, and I remember that your professor stepped up as soon as he was needed. He loves you, and he loves this town. I don't think something like that is going to do him in." The man had more backbone than she felt obligated to give him credit for. Most humans did. They willingly chose to live in a place where their neighbors had wings or turned into wolves or craved blood. There was an incredibly amount of bravery there.

"I'm not being condescending. I'm not patronizing you. I'm just talking. This is the way I talk, and it's the way I've talked for a while, now. And I'm attempting to get you out of that booth. It worked. But if you want to have a drinking, go for it. Maybe make me a little card. One sip for saying 'fuck.' Down a shot for moral superiority from a confess serial killer," Aaliyah said, laughing a little before she looked at Bri, her eyes a little soft. "If you want an actual funeral, this isn't it. I imagine you didn't get a lot of mourning done in there." Her expression ticked up in amusement as she listed off some of the members of the clan and their various selling points. "She's eccentric. That happens, sometimes. He has cultivated a displeasure for most things. That happens, too. It's nice that they're happy, even if unhelpful. She needs all the rest she can get right now. And you're right, they're both rather new, and the last people I'd wish to get advice from about control are Tried to Eat My Boyfriend's Leg and Had a Sunburn for a Year From Sleeping Outside." She hummed. "No, not a bat signal. We don't turn into bats. Look, I get you might think it's too little, too late. And that's fine. But I work on payroll for Eclipse on Tuesday afternoons. I offered you help with payback at the gift exchange. I'll offer you something similar, now: help with being a vampire, sans neon sign. No non-vampire pals, no busy crowds where I, and most people, really, are so often on defensive. Again, I'm telling you that you probably won't like it. Not to cow you but to let you know that it's just not fun. I didn't like it. I hated it, really, and it took me years to get the hang of this bullshit. But you're much smarter than me."

[sxbaist]

@autresdieu / Luca:  NUDE :  for one muse to walk in on the other while they’re changing. ( shirtless luca, sorry?? )

"Hey, you hear about--"

Ah. Fuck.

Vega's never been good about knocking. Never been good about thinking three steps ahead, two steps ahead, a half-step with one foot in front of the other. Something about the late night high that settles in, evaporating thoughts meant to thrive in the daylight. Her timing is evolutionary.

Her eyes; traitorous, wandering through rectus abdominis valleys about six beats too long.

Stuttering in her chest clicks the pieces back into place, dying just a little more when friends prove pretty.

"I-- fuck."

That should have been a,

--"Sorry."

[diabolicalworldwriter]

there's something sadly funny about the way that Kaladin goes into literally every situation thinking "Too bad I'm not cool anymore 😔"

I mean. I get it. Depression fucks your brain up and you feel detached from yourself and any skills you have or had. The PTSD and chronic fatigue are keeping him from doing things he once managed with far less effort. And it's rather impossible to feel like you can just... do things like you used to when you're struggling at a basic level to simply be.

Still, literally everyone who knows him is like "Kaladin you're so storming cool" and he goes "They're referring to the person I was, who is dead. I'll never be cool again. I'm sorry."

The most hilarious thing? He walks into these moments, thinking 'too bad', and then he does the most objectively amazing thing possible while everyone else just watches in awe.

Kaladin, three seconds after absolutely changing everyone's outlook on life: Aw, it's too bad the person I just was died again. Guess I have to find something else to be cuz I sure can't pull that off anymore.

[trlvsn]

if i put freud and edgeworth ai chat bots into a room and left would that be fucked up or what

[brutalnferno]

You guys ate this up huh. I thought this at midnight while listenining to Like Him by Tyler, The Creator. In light of that, I pose you this:

The spoken dialogue at the end of the song? Simon's mum.

CONTENT WARNING FOR SOME ABUSE DISCUSSION

Simon had only been back from leave for less than a week when he decided he didb't have to take his dad's shit anymore. He wasn't a child anymore, he didn't have to be forced to tiptoe around and feel small in his own home, especially not with his line of work.

His breaking point is when he catches his father – no, he was hardly a father. Hardly even a man, the living scum that he was – hurting his mother. And Simon just loses it, wipes the floor with his old man and kicks him out. The military hardened the scared kid that got pushed around and made a man that wouldn't stop until one of them could barely move. And that one wasn't Simon.

Simon kicks his dad out, threatening to finish the job if he ever dares show up at their door.

And when he looks at the destruction, he looks at Tommy Riley standing in the doorway to the wrecked living room, the way his mother and brother are looking at him, he knows. He knows he really is the spitting image of his old man, down to the way he fights. Down to the way he beat a man that never stood a chance against him.

He quietly apologises about the mess as he brings his mother to the bathroom to treat her injuries. She's not hurt too bad – a black eye, a bleeding lip, a small cut on her cheek – and Simon is hurt worse than her from the fight, but that doesn't matter. He can shrug it off, he's felt worse.

As he's cleaning her up, she talks. Her voice is shaky and hoarse from tears and begging the boys to stop fighting.

It was my fault, not yours, not his, it was my fault, I'm sorry

You know

It was my fault– shhh

Not him, 'cause he always wanted to be there for you

And I'm sorry I was young

But he's always wanted to be a father to you

So I, I fucked up and I take ownership of that

Of my choices and decisions

And I'm sorry for that

He's a good guy

So don't hold that against him, because it was my fault

Just, you know, forgive me

He tries to cut her off, to tell her it's not her fault, but he knows when she shushes him to let her speak. And he lets her talk and talk as he cleans the both of them up, about how it's her fault, about how different her husband was when they first met, about how Simon is so much like him. And he just listens.

When Tommy's son is brought home for the first time, when Simon is allowed to hold the boy for the first time, he looks down at him quietly. Three years ago, he'd have never seen his brother becoming such an amazing man. But here he was, starting a family of his own. And Simon knows exactly what he has to say about the lad.

"He looks just like you, Tommy."

Thinking about Simon Riley who grew up to be the spitting image of his dad and never reconciled with it.

Simon Riley who always felt a little bit guilty that he left his brother and mum alone with his dad

Simon Riley who can't escape it even when he beats the bastard and finally kicks him out of their lives, because he lives on within his son.

Simon Riley who's mother fondly tells him through tears he reminds her so much of her husband when they first fell in love

Simon Riley who listens to Tommy Riley talk about how "dad used to do that too, you really look like him these days"

Simon Riley who has little else to think about other than his family, including his likeness to his old man, when imprisoned by Manuel Roba

Simon Riley, the son that shouldn't have survived. It should have been Tommy, who had a big future with a family of his own

Lieutenant Ghost who never takes the mask off

Lieutenant Ghost who sees his own face about as much as anyone else these days

Lieutenant Ghost who sees his face so rarely that it's hard to recognise as himself

Lieutenant Ghost who sees his dad in the mirror

Lieutenant Ghost who, even covered by scars and irrevocably changed, still looks like his dad

[alexjcrowley]

Was just given a bit of attitude about being aromantic by the only people I've told I am aromantic really trying not to hyperventilate here

[katierosefun]

actually as much as i love mike and harvey together. i feel so sad for rachel zane because imagine falling in love with your coworker and then you learn that your coworker is a fake lawyer but not only that, your coworker is a fake lawyer who would literally do anything for his boss. he'll literally leave you at the altar to go to prison for his boss. he'll try to quit his job multiple times but keep coming back because his boss asked him to come back. he'll move to seattle with you, and you'll breathe a sigh of relief because it means that it can finally just be the two of you, but then you learn that he's inviting his stupid former boss to join them. and his stupid former boss agrees. you smile because your husband is so stupid happy at the idea of working with his former boss again, but you've seen this film one too many times before, and you are going to be subject to watching your husband choose his stupid former boss-slash-friend over you again and again and again and again and again and ag

[eigong]

… I WOULD LIKE TO FORMALLY APOLOGIZE FOR STARTING THE CHAIN OF EVENTS THAT ARE CURRENTLY FUCKING UP YOUR QUALITY OF LIFE.

UH.

YEAH.

I DO NOT FEEL REMORSE BUT I CANNOT HELP BUT REGRET WHAT I HAVE DONE AFTER THIS RATHER PITIFUL DISPLAY OF.. ALMOST BEING DEAD FOR SEVERAL DAYS ON END.

👋👋

🏃‍♂️

I have felt it before, that certainty, that death knell of the self. Knowing, because you are being warned by your own body as it barely fights to stay alive, that you could close your eyes and never open them again. Drift off as easily as falling into sleep, or perhaps easier.

That young woman I used to be, I recall her—disoriented and bloody, head wrapped in bandages, laid upon a clinic bed. Resting there in the nothingness that resides between two life-changing points, the stretch of time after the infliction of a terrible hurt but before the healing. Survival. Being struck with that profound numbness.

How dare I be put through this again?

Anyway apology acceptead i appreciate it

[here-there-were-dragons]

i have to wonder what super hardcore militant vegans think should be done about obligate carnivore animals, because in all my painfully-rapidly-approaching-30-years i've literally never actually seen anyone give a clear consistent much less halfway feasible answer on that