#everyone I see on the gram is going to like fucking

[alarici]

I am unbelievably tempted to take the midnight (Amtrak) going (to NYC)

[vaguely-concerned]

just going about my day idly contemplating how some of the ways hawke can interact with a romanced anders are not at all unlike how they interact with leandra (and a bit of carver too, especially with a purple hawke), and then thought about my hawke in the timeline where he romances anders and was hit straight in the face with 'was he ever actually in love, or was he just desperately trying to renegotiate with his mother's ghost in any way he could' and now i need to lie down. this is the power of dragon age 2

[whytheylosttheirminds]

I Remember Everything - Rafe Cameron

(Prologue and Chapter 1)

Summary: You left the island two years ago, leaving the love of your life a shattered man in your wake. Now, when you return, you find the sweet boy you once loved has transformed into a monster of a man. How can you detangle the real Rafe from the terrible things he's done?

Timeline: begins toward the end of obx season 3 and is mostly canon.

Content: this story contains sexual content, alcohol and drug abuse, and brief mentions of violence. All chapters are 18+, minors do not interact!

⯎series masterlist⯎

Prologue

Before gold, before grams, before the gun, there was you. Back when there weren’t crosses to steal, lines to snort, cops to run from, there was you. Long summer nights on the Druthers, your mom blowing up your phone ‘cause you missed curfew again. Skipping class and riding to the beach on the back of his bike. All the way back to grade school, playing tag and pretending you were pirates. Then middle school, that kiss under the lifeguard tower, a first for both of you. In high school, the night you got back from the “character-building summer camp” you had been shipped off to and you shared your other first. When you were first together, it didn’t even hurt, but just felt like fucking finally. 

He remembers it all, taking all of his strength to keep it stuffed under the surface. The coke, the violence, the drama he creates in his wake cover you up nicely, until those nights when he’s dead asleep and there you are again, leaving. When he wakes, it all comes back to him. How he sat on the curb and watched you go, bloody and hurt from the night that was your final straw. How he showed up on your doorstep the next day, like he was five-years-old again asking if you could come outside and play. How your mother told him you were gone and wouldn’t tell him where you went.

“Honey,” she said with something like pity in her voice, “Promise me, you’ll let her go, let her be happy.”

A promise he kept, until the day you rolled back into town with no warning. Your timing could not have been worse. After the summer from hell, the summer that made him a killer, he finally felt like he was in control. It wasn’t until he saw you, the only person in the world that ever really knew him, that he realized he had no idea who he was. 

Chapter One

You clutched your phone tight, reading and rereading the message. One you used to get nearly every night but hadn’t seen in two long years.

party at cameron’s tonite !!

It was a group text, sent by the girl from your high school you bumped into in the grocery store earlier that day. You had been back on the island for all of an hour before inevitably seeing someone you knew. You tried to duck quickly into the cereal aisle, but she caught your eye before you could disappear, an action you were infamous for.

“Omg, we need to hang out soon!” She had said, before handing you her phone to put your new number in.

You smiled your fakest smile and said, “it’s a must!” You didn’t think either of you really meant it, but apparently she had.

There were eleven or twelve other numbers in the group text, none you had saved, but you assumed they were likely other people from your high school. She probably just added anyone in her contacts she could think of, not even stopping to realize she was inviting the Kook prince’s former princess to his party. Your relationship had been the stuff of legend on this island. Everyone had an opinion, you were practically a celebrity couple, and it was the biggest news on the island for months when you left, suddenly disappearing overnight. Some real shit must’ve gone down around here since then to make it such old news that this girl didn’t even think about it when adding you to this text.

Your heart pounding in your ears, you couldn’t believe it when you felt yourself typing out i’ll be there :) 

You wore your hair down, the way you always used to have it in high school. After you left, you had cut it short, wanting to shed away as much of your old life as you could, but in the last few months you’d started to let it grow back. Now it flowed down to the middle of your back, tickling the skin of your shoulders where the thin spaghetti straps of the little dress you had on left them exposed. You let the front pieces fall around your face, a sort of curtain to keep an extra layer between you and the other partygoers.

You could not believe you were here. For real this time, not in a dream as you had been every night for two years, but really here. 

As you walked down the gravel path, it all came rushing back. The smell of Rose’s garden, the distant sound of the ocean lapping against the shore, the low thud of the music echoing through the crisp evening air. How many times have you walked down this path? How many nights had you spent here, your senses filled with the glory of Tannyhill, the glory of him? And yet now it felt so heavy, the sights, sounds, smells of it all were nearly choking you. Tears welled in your eyes, but something kept your feet walking towards those grand front doors, towards him.

Four years earlier…

The glass panes of the front door are slightly blurred, only revealing the soft lighting of the grand entryway on the other side. You had crossed this threshold at least a thousand times in the ten years since your family moved to this island. Knocking felt strange, you felt so small standing here in the porch light, surrounded by moths and the thick coastal August air. An envelope, wrinkled from being opened and rifled through so many times, was clutched between your clammy hands.

A figure you couldn’t quite make out approached the door, and your heart pounded in your ears as you hoped desperately it would be him who opened the door. But it wasn’t.

“Oh, hey - I- hi, Mr. Cameron,” you stammered, ever intimidated by the island’s most powerful man.

“Y/N,” Ward nodded cordially. “It’s after 10pm.”

You smiled weakly, if you felt small before, you feel positively infantile now.

“I was just hoping I could see Rafe for like, just a second,” you pleaded, putting on your sweetest smile.

“He’s studying,” Ward said. “You can come back tomorrow. Goodnight.”

Before you could protest, the door was closed and the blurred figure retreated into the house.

Never one to give up, you stuffed the letter into the back pocket of your jeans, and stepped back from the porch, sizing up the massive house to see which rooms still had lights on. You knew the blueprint of this place by heart, checking off each family member mentally as you scanned their window for signs of life. Wheezie’s room? Dark. Sarah’s room? Dark. Rose and Ward’s room? Still lit. This would have to be a stealth mission. 

You snuck around the side of the house and looked up at the last window on your list. To your excitement, the room was still lit. You saw a long shadow pass by the curtains, and you actually jumped a little from the thrill. After spending the longest summer of your life apart from the one person you wanted to spend it with, he was actually right there, just two stories off the ground.

You traveled 800 miles today, what was a few more feet? Blocking out the better judgment ringing in the back of your mind, you picked up a few pebbles from the rocky path that leads to the backyard, and started climbing the big tree that grew right up past Rafe’s balcony. How you were gonna get from the tree to the balcony? That was five-minutes-from-now-you’s problem. You chuckled to yourself as your body naturally found each branch and knot on the tree. You used to have competitions when you were kids to see who could climb this tree the fastest, and you beat Rafe everytime. You remembered the shocked look on his face the first time he saw you scurry up the tree, you were hoping for a similar level of approving surprise once you got where you were going.

Once you reached the branch directly across from Rafe’s balcony, you pulled one of the pebbles from your pocket and chucked it at his window as hard as you could. 

“Shit,” you whisper-yelled as the throw fell short and the pebble dropped, loudly knocking into the first floor window below. You couldn’t afford another noise-causing miss, so you recalculated the throw and bit your lip as you lobbed the next pebble hard. It smacked into Rafe’s window with a loud TINK and you smiled in satisfaction. You waited a moment, then two, and still nothing. The shadowy figure did not return to the curtain. You only had one pebble left, and you had never been good at climbing back down this tree. Remembering the time you fell out of it onto the waiting Rafe below, and you both ended up needing stitches, your stomach twisted in fear. You took in a deep breath and held it, letting the last pebble fly. Another sharp TINK, and a moment of baited breath later, the tall shadow finally returned to the window.

Rafe opened the curtains harshly and you immediately broke into a wild smile. He looked so cute in his fitted gray t-shirt and plaid pajama pants, his normally gelled back her falling in messy pieces around his face. You held back a giggle, delighted by the completely confused look on his face as he searched out the window for the cause of the sound. He lifted the window open and examined the two pebbles that had fallen on the windowsill. 

You took the opportunity to whisper a loud “psssst.” His face shot up in surprise and his eyes finally found you in the tree, just a few feet off of the balcony. Where you expected to see surprised delight on his face, you instead caught something cold and irritated.

“Y/N,” he whisper-called to you. “What are you doing?”

“I just got back, I wanted to see you!” You called to him, hoping his apparent anger was just in response to his own shock.

“I’m busy.” Rafe went to close the window and you felt your moment of opportunity slip away.

“Wait!” you stopped him. “Please don’t make me climb down. We both know it won’t end well.” You smiled a sweetly shy smile you hoped would melt his icy demeanor a bit.  

He sighed and looked at you annoyed for a moment before climbing out the window, his height requiring him to duck low in order to make it through. He had grown even taller over the summer, he must have hit 6 foot by now, maybe more. Your stomach flipped as you watched his athletic frame emerge from his bedroom, now able to see how defined his arms looked in the moonlight. You’d always thought he was a cute boy, but the way he looked right now lit a fire in your belly. Then you realized what it was - while you were gone, the cute boy-next-door had become a man.

“Just reach over,” he directed you.

“I don’t think I can without falling,” you explained. “I think I’m gonna have to jump.”

“Are you stupid?” He scoffed humorlessly.

Your heart sank, the boy you left behind three months ago never would have called you stupid.

“It’ll be fine, you just have to catch me,” you explained.

He rolled his eyes and opened his arms, reaching them over the bannister of the balcony, “fine.”

The brief moment of joy you got from his submission faded fast as you made the mistake of looking down at the gap between the tree and the balcony.

“Actually…” you said, bravery fading.

“What, are you scared?” Rafe taunted.

“No!” you insisted. You smiled at him, suddenly feeling like the two of you were ten again and he was daring you to jump off the trampoline into the pool in your backyard.

Now or never. With a deep breath and a sharp yelp, you threw yourself out of the tree and towards his waiting arms on the balcony. As promised, he caught you, and pulled you quickly over the bannister. His arms wrapped around your waist, yours around his shoulders, he held you there just a few inches off the ground.

You flattened your hands against the taut muscles of his shoulders, delighting in the strong warmth of them. But before you could fully revel in the feeling of being in his arms, he released his grip on your waist and you dropped the final few inches to the ground. Rafe quickly stepped back, breaking the lock your arms had around his neck. Despite the southern summer heat, the air between you suddenly felt ice cold.

“Rafe,” you whispered, stepping towards him, but he only pulled further away.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said without even looking at you.

Rafe started back towards his window, and something gave you the feeling he was not going to invite you to follow him through it.

“I need to talk to you,” you started to explain.

Rafe whipped around to face you, the way he towered over you at his new height sending goosebumps down your spine.

“Why don’t you go talk to your new boyfriend instead?” He snapped.

You were so stunned that you let out a little laugh, which only made his furrowed brow scrunch even more in anger.

“What are you talking about?” You asked.

“I saw the pictures your camp was posting on their website all summer. I saw you wrapped around that douchebag.”

It took a moment of confused silence for you to realize what he was talking about, when it finally dawned on you, you laughed again. He turned from you and started heading towards the window again, but you caught his arm, your hand not able to fit even halfway around it.

“No, Rafe,” you explained, “That was just Andy, one of the other campers. We were doing a trust fall exercise. He dropped me like two seconds after that!”

Despite himself, Rafe turned to look at you, eyes examining you nervously. 

“Are you ok?” He asked in a small voice, wishing desperately that he didn’t care.

You smiled softly, there he was - your boy. 

“I’m fine,” you assured him, showing him the small scar on your wrist. “Just a little scrape.”

A moment passed, he avoided your eyes but allowed you to step closer, your hand sliding down his arm and slipping into his, his fingers reluctantly intertwining with yours. You knew exactly what words he was struggling to find, but decided to let him get there on his own.

Finally, “Why didn’t you answer my letters?”

Your other hand reached into your back pocket and pulled out the envelope you had tucked away. You held it out to him wordlessly. He took the letter and held it to the light coming from his room, examining it with a confused look. The envelope was addressed to him at Tannyhill, from you at camp. When he finally noticed the “return to sender” label, it all clicked.

“They kept getting returned to me, I don’t know why,” you said as you squeezed his hand. “I asked to use my phone to let you know but they wouldn’t let me. I almost just snuck out of camp and came home so I could explain it to you.”

“Your mom would’ve been so mad,” he said, finally, finally smiling at you.

“Then she would’ve just taken away my phone and we’d be back where we started,” You said. “There’s like twenty more letters like that. I don’t know why they never made it to you, it’s like someone was sabotaging me.”

Rafe seemed satisfied with your explanation and the remaining bit of anger on his face melted away completely. He stuffed the letter in his pocket and suddenly threw his arms around you, lifting you in the air as you yelped in surprise, giggling as he started planting sloppy kisses all over your face and neck.

“Shhh, baby, my parents will hear you,” he whispered. “They’ve got me locked in my tower because I failed my last quiz in this fucking summer school pre-calc class.”

“Rafe!” you said in mock-scandal. “Naughty language!”

“Oh, baby, I can say way naughtier things than that,” he growled in your ear, your cheeks now burning from real-scandal.

“C’mon,” he said, setting you down and grabbing your hand, to lead you to his still-open window. 

He placed his large hand on the small of your back as he helped you through the window, climbing in after you and closing it slowly so as to not make a sound.

You and Rafe had done some more-than-kissing things before, but that was the night you gave yourselves to each other completely. He held you after, softly kissing the scar on your arm from when Andy had dropped you.

“Never gonna let that Andy asshole touch you again,” he said between kisses. “He can find his own girl, you’re mine.”

You giggled and he looked up at you in confusion.

“Rafe,” you were laughing hard now. “Andy’s gay.”

He broke into a bashful grin, a quick blush of embarrassment swept across his cheeks before he grew serious again and started kissing up your arm.

“I don’t care,” he said. “They should all know - all the Andys and Jakes and Chads and whoeverthefucks,” his kisses had reached your neck, “no guy is ever gonna get to touch you like me.” He pulled back and looked into your eyes with a sincerity that squeezed your heart. “Gonna love you forever. Gonna marry you, make you a mom. Never gonna spend three months, or even three fucking days away from you again. That what you want?”

“Yes,” you breathed, meaning it with your whole being.

“Good.”

Now…

The memories flooded your brain as you opened the door and stepped into the home you used to think would be yours someday. The party was swelling, the vibe feeling so familiar and so uncomfortable at the same time.

You made your way straight to the kitchen, desperately needing a drink. Every step you took sent a memory flashing through your thoughts like a shock to your brain. You passed the living room and saw movie-nights-turned-make-out-sessions on the couch, playing mario kart with Sarah and Wheezie while Rafe laughed at your hyper-competitiveness, prom pictures in front of the fireplace. You passed the dining room and saw the first family dinner you were invited to, how you made Ward laugh with a story about fishing your own dad used to tell, how Rafe squeezed your thigh under the table in pride. You entered the kitchen and saw the time you and Rafe set off the smoke alarm trying to make pancakes, the time he lifted you onto the counter and went down on you when his family was out of town. And then, standing by the keg, you saw the girl who invited you, clearly plastered already.

“Omg!” She yelled when she saw you.

Everyone else in the large kitchen turned and looked at you. It felt dramatic, but you could swear the whole room fell silent when they saw you, a comical record scratch playing in your head.

The girl who invited you ran over to you, beer sloshing over the side of her solo cup and onto her shirt. 

“I can not believe you came,” she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I completely forgot when I invited you, about, you know, you and-”

“Can I get one of those?” you cut her off quickly, gesturing towards her drink.

Before she could answer, a loud crash came from outside the kitchen’s open french doors. The heads that had all been watching you suddenly snapped toward the sound towards the crowded back yard. When the loud bellow of a man’s voice rang out, the people in the kitchen all ran towards the unfolding scene. You pushed through the crowd and out the doors, drawn inexplicably to the voice. Your heart dropped to your stomach when you realized why - it was Rafe.

There in the backyard, packed with drunk people and lit by string lights, Rafe stood with his fist clenched in the collar of some guy’s white button up, forcefully pulling the scared looking dude toward him while he yelled.

“I said none of that fucking cheap shit,” Rafe yelled at the guy you now realized was a cater-waiter. 

“I’m sorry sir, I-” Rafe threw the man down and he fell back in the dirt.

“This isn’t some ghetto block party out in The Cut,” Rafe yelled. “Do you know who’s fucking house you’re at right now?”

The crowd around you watched, most smiling in support of the man they looked at like he was a rockstar. You cringed at the looks of admiration in their eyes and took Rafe in with your own.

He looked different, harder. His floppy blond locks had been shaved off, and he had traded old t-shirts and jeans for slacks and a polo. He was as tall and built as you remembered, but instead of it being endearing, it was just scary as he looked down at the poor server like he was gonna kill him.

Then he spat on him. He actually spat on another human being. It disgusted you in more ways than one, and you felt your heart breaking in your chest as you realized you had no idea who this man was. The boy who held you on that night four years ago and promised to be yours forever clearly didn’t live here anymore. You turned quickly and pushed back through the crowd, unable to watch another second of this sickening display of toxic masculinity.

Rafe glared down at the pogue-scum in the dirt below him, an eerily familiar feeling washed over him as something moved quickly in the corner of his eye. He turned at just the right moment to see a whip of long hair disappear through the crowd.  But it wasn’t. It couldn’t possibly be. Surely, it was not you.

(chapter 2)

a/n: Hiiii this is the first fic I've posted in about 10 years!! Hope you enjoyed, forgive me if I'm rusty! More chapters to come :)

[simonisferal]

not you again. "scaramouche x male reader"

YOU were the smart kid in high school till he came along and ruined it. Now that he got you shipped away to your grandmother's, you're out for revenge. To beat him is your greatest wish but would that change now when he's your seatmate, partner. and roommate? Oh for fuc—

warnings: physical violence/fighting, the occasional underage drinking, heavily sexual themes and intercourse + some kinky shit (honestly, who knows), scaramouche is scaramouche 🤦‍♂️, exes to academic rivals to lovers, vulgar language, angsty(mentions of SH, suicidal thought, OD/ED), slow updates, homophobia (sort of), i know nothing about law so don't come at me, slow burn, and i think that's it!

written pieces will marked with 📖

pheonix wrights — miles edgeworths

ᴥ season one — glow up, dick up

episode one — who the hell are you and why is your bitchass tryna fight me?

episode two — a man can't punch another man without it seeming homosexual nowadays, can he? 📖

episode three — if im sent away, im taking my dignity with me / fuck you

episode four — yes grandma, i'll rub your bare feet. just don't call grandpa over to tell his war stories again... 📖

episode five — i wonder how much he's suffering right now

episode six — in my slut era!! (i stay home with grams and gramps watching family fued)

episode seven — you'd think being the new kid is shit but it's actually worse since i'm hot

episode eight — who is juicytoot124 and why are they liking my tweets??

episode nine — fuck the school, fuck the students, and fuck the chairs too / who is he talking to

episode ten — this is NOT the USA miley cyrus was partying in 📖

episode eleven — holy shit, he has a sister? or is that his girlfriend..? 📖

episode twelve — kaeya, pass me the bottle; i’m getting wasted tonight

episode thirteen — holy shit. am i hallucinating or do i see a bobble-headed bitch coming my way? 📖

episode fourteen — it might be the paranoia coming in but i hear cops 📖

episode fifteen — how's my day? oh i was hiding in a fucking closet with my ex boyfriend from the police because of someone decided to steal alcohol. i wonder who.

episode sixteen — so i can't be a whore but my enemy can fuck around with his ex? not cool.

episode seventeen — wait, summer's over? i was just getting ready to rot in bed!

episode eighteen — basically what i'm hearing is that i'm a god and everyone loves me! /sarcastic

episode nineteen — yeah, so, what i just said previously was a fucking lie. 📖

episode twenty — ah shit, here we go again. 📖

ᴥ season two — and they were roommates?

episode twenty one — my clear conscience can't take this anymore; time to escape prison!

episode twenty two — everything i say was a joke unless you're into it, then it's not 📖

episode twenty three — first day of hell

episode twenty four — am i interfering someone's love triangle??

status: ongoing

started: 04/13/24

taglist: @m-march7th , @wawanluvr , @shutingstar , @pookiemax , @chemiru , @scaradooche , @swivy123 , @yangbbokari , @academiq , @thystarsshine , @zoropookie , @notrsz , @justyoureader , @mercy-not-merci , @kiekole , @kazumiku , @featuredtofu , @yourfavoritefreakyhan , @b2tr09 , @ell1e2010 , @pwaap , @vxcmx , @vamxpi , @moonslie04, @allaboutiknowthatyoubeingdead , @somnium-kiss , @crxwned-mxnarch , @khisuko , @jad3-n , @emptydinner-plate , @popcorn-milk , @liuaneee , @neversore, @alicerosejane

(@simonisferal 2024)

[buckyalpine]

Peter’s Hamster

Crack fic alert: Imagine Bucky with a pet he never wanted. He’s around the compound more cause he’s taking a break from missions for a while. In the meantime, Peter brought a hamster from the pet store and Tony is not having any of it.

“No”

“C’mon Mr. Stark, you won’t even notice him-

“I can smell him from the lab”

“I’ll invent something to stop the smell”

“Aren’t pets expensive”

“Aren’t you a billionaire?”

“Shut up Romanoff”

“He was like 2 bucks!”

Peter manages to squirrel his way into keeping his newest friend but there’s still the matter of who would care for him when everyone else as away on missions. Anyway, Bucky made it clear he would have no part in hamster sitting. Not one bit. If everyone was away then the hamster would have to fend for himself.

Like today. It had already been a few days since the collective team had left leaving Bucky in perfect solitude with his worn copy of the hobbit and his secret guilty pleasure; peanut butter cups. No one would ever EVER see the former winter soldiers suck off the chocolate left on the wrapper, licking his lips like a cat after every bit between flipping pages.

It was perfect.

Except.

Bucky could hear the sound of the squeaky wheel of the hamster going at full speed, the high pitched squeals piercing through the air.

“For fucks sake, can’t you keep it down” he grumbled before pausing and closing his eyes. “…I’m talking to a hamster”

….

“who can’t hear me”

Eventually the rustling and scurrying gets to him so he reluctantly goes over to Peters room to see what the 3 gram rodent is up to. He notices the pellet bowl is empty and water has almost run dry, though the little fur ball didn’t seem to care just yet, more concerned about cleaning and pawing at his face.

“If you had more than half a brain cell you would’ve escaped and fed yourself” Bucky scoffed, ready to turn on his heel but the tiny beady eyes that look at him make him stop.

“Pathetic” he mumbled before finding the bag of food under a pile of Peter’s clothes “no more wonder he bought a hamster, he lives like one”

The hamster nudges against him when he refills his bowl, using it as an opportunity to escape by climbing up his arm and sitting on his shoulder.

“Seriously”

The small light brown puffball stayed there while Bucky scoffed, plucking him off and plopping him back in, narrowing his eyes at it.

“This was a one time thing. Figure it out”

Is what he said and fully intended on standing by but the squeaky wheels and rustling get to him. At one point, he swears it’s on purpose as the hamsters way of getting his attention for a food refill.

So he takes matters into his own hands

“If you won’t feed yourself, I’ll teach you”

So the late night sessions begin. Rigorous circuits for the thing that was smaller than his palm, learning how to scale the cake, click the lock open and nibble its way into the pellets. 

“I’m training a hamster” 

Bucky caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, a few stray pieces of woodchips dusting his clothes while the hamster (who he now called PB....based on an interesting choice...) completed another around in less than 0 seconds. 

“I’m training a fucking hamster” 

“Good Job PB” Bucky petted his head with one finger, stopping when he was about to comment on his ability to climb the cage, 

“And still talking to it” 

Imagine the absolute confusion the team feels when they get back to find random clear tubes running along the walls, each connecting to a different room, most tubes leading to the snack cupboards and counter tops. 

The walk into the living room and no one breathes a word, too entranced by the sight of a very focused Bucky and Peter’s hamster, perched on the super soldier. He sits on Bucky's shoulder, remnants of sunflower seeds left over on the coffee table while Bucky nibbles on a peanut butter cup. 

“What the fuck” 

Bucky turned around to find everyone staring at him with a variety of expressions from shock to amusement to utter confusion. At this point, Bucky couldn’t not care less, shrugging before holding up a seed to his shoulder so PB could grab it in his tiny hands.

“Which episode now, PB”  “Who the fuck is PB” 

Bucky pointed to the furball while scrolling through Netflix, avoiding any animal documentaries, not wanting to traumatize his new tiny friend. 

“You named him PB?”

“Yup”

“Based off of what” Tony cocked and eyebrow while Bucky snorted, feeding him another sunflower seed. 

“We’ll, I originally called him Parker’s balls”

Imagine after this Bucky has PB trained to wreck havoc and steal things he likes from just about anywhere. Peter gets absolute shit from Tony because 1 Bucky was enough chaos and now its Bucky plus this tiny demon. 

[sknnyvanilla]

The Chic Diet by kit olsen

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Diets

The Baby Food Diet

Ohmigod, tell me more, right? Enter: the Baby Food Diet.

You don't have to chew anything since the blender did that for you. Portion control won't be an issue either since all of the stores carry single-servings with really low calorie counts. And, like, I guess that babies need clean and well-rounded food or something because, like, all of the ingredients are things that you've heard before and are actually good for you. It's like a juice fast, but with a little more substance and a little less lawnmower drippings. But, like, waaay more affordable, so you can use all of the money that you save on some flavored Pedialyte, which is really just like a zero-calorie coconut water.

Plus, thanks to all of the crazy and demanding yoga mommies decked out in Lululemon with their obscenely expensive strollers, Whole Foods has really upped their game in the baby food aisle. There's seriously a flavour for whatever type of mood that you might be in so don't even worry about the lack of variety. It's like chic girl heaven. Make sure you get there early though, so you won't have to fight with the colicky toddler in the Missoni Bugaboo over the last "zucchini banana & amaranth."

Ella's Kitchen and Plum Organics are good for your basic blends of fruits and vegetables, but I swear that the marketing team at Earth's Best was targeting chic/orthorexic adults when naming their product lines. "Antioxidant Blends?" "Super Fruits?" "Gourmet Meals and Seasonal Harvest?" Um, yea, okay. Like 6 month olds care about that kind of shit.

So, apparently, Tracy Anderson (bless her heart) suggests that one should consume 14 jars per day. Um, no. It's not like we're headed into famine or something. A couple of jars or pouches should suffice and, even then, you should be watching your carb intake. That means NO all-fruit blends, you fat fuck. Make sure to pick vegetable-heavy varieties, though those can be sugarific also. I mean, even "spinach + apple + rutabagas" has 8 grams of carbs after adjusting for fibre. Ugh. Who knew that babies were such sugar whores? It's just, like, really unfair for all of the other customers who are trying to watch their figures.

Take a good look at Abbey Lee Kershaw and Hedi Slimane. See their jutting cheekbones and bulging eyeballs? Yours can totally be like that too, so long as you're willing to adhere to the uber cutesy diet that these two effortlessly chic Skeletors have been known to follow.

Now, everyone that knows that digestion isn't very glamorous. The act of mastication is, in itself, so very vulgar, and then that nasty bolus of caloric horror settles into your distended stomach, stirring up a whirlwind of has and discomfort as it waits for hours to be broken down. After that harrowing process, a trillion fat globules get sent directly to your upper arms and inner thighs. And then, well, you know... something really un-chic happens in le toilette.

But what if you could bypass all of that unpleasantry and just follow a really adorable diet that consists of only a few hundred calories a day? And, like, your stomach will stay flat since it's not filled with festering kale and noxious fumes.

The Air Diet

Every wannabe Carrie Bradshaw (or Charlotte York if you're really annoying) yearns to achieve maximal chicness with minimal effort. And nobody can do posh like the French, right? Even their diets ooze superior elegance that we ugly Americans could only aspire to attain.

Like, take the Air Diet, or L'Air Fooding as French Grazia dubbed it. God, even the name is so chic, I DIE. So anyway, you basically pretend to eat whatever the hell you want, without actually allowing it touch your lips. Naysayers and physicians will be like, "Ohmigod, that's called anorexia!", but, um, no. Anorexia is what my roommate, Sydney, has, and she won't even go near food without having a twitching episode. This is, like, a lot healthier psychologically.

I mean, I totally get it. Everyone knows that enjoying food is an experience and this diet allows you to immerse yourself in the whole process until the actual eating part. But you still get to order your meal, pay for it, cut it up, smell the aromas, and Instagram pictures of your drool-worthy plate. You just don't absorb all of the calories and fat associated with ingesting the actual food. It's like you're a chic French diet mime who traded eating for the right to talk. Ooh, maybe you can buy a really cute. A.P.C. striped shirt to go with your performance. So authentic.

It's not like you don't eat at all, either. You still get to binge on all of the la soupe a l'eau (translation: chic soup with an uber pretentious name) that you want. Oh, you want to know what's in it> Um, I had the recipe right here. Hold on. Oh, here it is. Boiled water and sea salt. Hm. But sea salt has, like, a lot of minerals in it, right? How nutritious.

So, yea. It seems like the majority of my friends have been on this diet for a really long time. Like even before that issue came out. What trendsetters. I mean, it's a great way for cutting calories, you know? As a bonus, it's not even restrictive! Like, you can help yourself to all of the fancily named soup and air that you want. And, like, a variety of air at that. Just stroll through the perfume section at Barney's or traipse through Le Labo when you're feeling bored with the plain, bourgeoisie oxygen around you. And if you're feeling especially ravenous (um, binge eating disorder, anyone?) you can practice some yoga breathing. It's like dietary meditation. Kay, now Ocean Breath, everyone.

The Paleo Diet

While cavemen might not have been very fashion-forward, they apparently knew how to be skinny motherfuckers. The Museum of Natural History really needs to slim down the mannequins in the exhibit to reflect this don't you think? So inaccurate. Anyway, this hunter-gatherer-centric diet is very simple in that it has one rule- only eat shit that Betty Flinstone would have prepared.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with history, this means that Kettle Chips and peanut butter are no-goes. Anything processed, such as Lean Cuisines, or foods that require relatively modern technology to produce, such as grains, are not allowed. Neither are dairy products, refined sugars, legumes, potatoes, processed oils or alcohol. Yup, even alcohol. No, they did not have "Stone Age" vodka or sugar-free "Bedrock" Red Bull back then. Yes, I am positive.

Anyway, you're basically allowed to have wild seafood, organic eggs, grass-fed game, vegetables, fruits and some nuts. The idea behind this style of eating is that humans, as a species, have not greatly evolved since the era of our cave dwelling ancestors. That is, our digestive systems are largely genetically similar to those of dinosaurs and are still not fully adapted to the vast changes in diet that have occurred since the dawn of the agricultural age. Simply put, we're not that great at digesting the majority of the shit foods that line supermarket shelves today. Yes, even the shelves at Whole Foods.

By following the palaeolithic diet, however, we would be providing our bodies with ideal foods to which our digestive systems are genetically adapted, When we are better able to process and absorb nutrients from these easily digested foods, we would be more capable of achieving optimal health.

But who really cares about primal strength and surly shit like that? Not me or any of my friends, despite the fact that everyone I know has "gone Paleo." What we love about this diet is the amount of control and restriction that it provides the user. You can basically reject most foods so long as you can come up with some inane reason as to why. "I'm only channeling cavewomen who lived in the Northern Hemisphere, and I don't think those were native to that region," you can say with a dismissive sniff as you swat away a platter of seasonal stone fruit. Um, apricots have a lot of carbs, didn't you know?

Plus, the diet itself is just really trendy. It's like the new Dukan Diet, which was originally the new Atkins, which was basically the new Cabbage Soup Diet. You'll probably be consuming the same meals that you normally are, but can now affix the hip label of "Paleo" to your dietary habits. But don't do that shit where you put goat's milk butter in your coffee or inhale bushels of avocados in one sitting- no=carb calories are still calories, after all.

The Ridiculously Low Carb Diet

In the world of the chic, all of the inhabitants are consumed with keeping their carb intakes as close to zero as humanly possible. Throw any generic food product at a chic girl and she can spit back its estimated carbohydrate content in mere seconds. And, as if she were a neurologist treating childhood epilepsy, she knows the ins and outs of the ketogenic diet like the back of her Rodin Crema slathered hand.

Though she may have no idea what mitosis is, or how photosynthesis works, ant legitimate chic girl could pass a PhD-level Nutrition exam with flying colours. "In order to get into a state of ketosis, you need to deplete the glycogen stores in your liver and muscles before even tapping into your fat energy sources. To do that, you have to keep your net carbohydrate intake below 25 grams a day," she will prattle off expertly, though she may not even have the faintest idea what she is actually talking about.

Basically, she knows that the lower your carbohydrate intake, the more fat you will end up burning. Thus, being the borderline-psychotic overachiever that she is, she will set an upper limit of approximately 5 grams of net carbohydrates per day for herself.

Plus, carbs are totes unnecessary. No one has ever looked cute while gorging on a slice of pizza or inhaling a burrito. But nibbling on a piece of asparagus or noshing on a sliver of pecorino is just adorbs. They're like low glycaemic pieces de resistance that compliment your Zac Posen cocktail dress. Bread used to be the official food of peasants, just so you know.

"I only eat foods that are green or white," were the first words that my soon-to be-future roommate, Lauren, ever muttered to me. No mention of her name, age or hometown- nothing. That's how seriously a true chic girl take her carbohydrate consumption- it defines who she is.

"What do you mean?" I had asked innocently like a clueless martian. Mind you, I still wore leggings and thought Greek Yogurt parfaits were healthy at the time. (I know, I know- don't judge me.)

Lauren, bless her heart, had then taken me under her wing, expertly gu8iding me into my current status of perpetual ketosis. We basically subsist on kale, spinach, avocado, egg whites, cheese, white fish and chicken breasts. And what can I say? I'm obsessed. The far just melted off like butter (which is totally allowed, by the way.) Like, I never want to belong to any other metabolic state of mind. It's just so simple, and everyone's doing it. I mean, just saunter into a Fashion Week after party and it'll reek of Chanel Chance and ketones. So chic.

So you can go the high fat route a la Atkins, or limit your fat consumption in the way of Dukan practitioners. Either way, you'll lose the flab and be super taut. But you can never go wrong with the Green and White Diet, the secret weapon of fashionistas in the know. And, while trends may come and go, there is one combination that will always be in style- ketosis breath and look of death. #Chic

The Strategic Starvation Diet

"You just don't eat for, like 18 hours a day," the chic girl will explain when concerned friends inquire about her new stringent diet du jour. "But you totally get to have balanced meals for the other 6! It was on the news. They tested it on mice and they, like, totally lived longer. Ew."

Intermittent fasting is like a godsend for the chic. Apparently, it's actually really healthy and has a bunch of scientific studies published to back it up. Not that the chic girl will ever read them, of course. But if positive results actually exist, then there's actually something to validate her cray.

I mean, what kind of diet condones extended periods of starvation? It's as if this way of eating was made up specifically with the chic bitches in mind. Not to mention that i's supposedly uber effective! Like, in clinical trials, researchers found that overweight participants how utilized intermittent fasting lost way more fat than those who ate the same meals spread throughout the day. I knew that whole "6 mini meals a day" adage was total bullshit!

Of course, the chic girl is just an extreme case of human, so she'll narrow her eating window to 2 hours or so. Some deranged bitches may even aim for 20 minutes! Talk about efficiency.

There's an even wackier version of this method that's been named the "Bulletproof Diet," whatever that means. Basically, you drink black coffee with butter or coconut oil stirred in so that you don't get hungry while in your fasted state. Um, that sounds like a lot of unnecessary calories. And chic girls don't get plagued with hunger- we like to refer to it as "getting of track.: Lile, seriously? Drinking butter> That's not even real fasting. People have no willpower nowadays.

Supporters of this way of eating suggest that people snack on healthy foods during their feeding periods, like bananas and apples. Um, bananas are super starchy. And apples? Did you know that apples don't actually have much nutritional value> The only real benefit that comes form apples is from pectin, which will help to regulate digestion. but since chic girls already consume astronomical amounts of fibre, they won't be receiving many benefits from munching on apples. They can totally get their Vitamin C from elsewhere. Ohmigod, you're learning, like, so much from me. This might as well be a textbook!

I suggest that you nibble on a piece of cheese or some veggies during your allotted eating time. That way, you can totally maximize ketosis and burn as much fat as fucking possible. I mean, Emily Blunt's character in The Devil Wears Prada totally knew what she was doing. She was just way ahead of her time. Like, don't you want to be one stomach fu away from sample size too?

The Raw Food Diet

This one's for the extremists, of which there are many in the upper echelons of the chic. Basically, you stick to a diet of uncooked veggies all day long, with the occasional piece of fruit thrown in. As expected, these bitches are skinny as fuck and look great in just about anything. They also absorb, like, maximal nutrients and have beautiful skin and hair. Plus, they get to lecture and judge others all day long about the importance of enzymes and whatnot. These skinny twigs can also consume bushels of allowed foods and still keep their daily calorie counts in the hundreds. Totes ideal, if you can stomach it, I mean. But have you ever tried raw broccoli or mushrooms? Ew.

If you've lost all sensory input from your taste buds, as can happen when on frightening amount of amphetamines, this is the perfect lifestyle for you. You can be like a super svelte panda bear and nosh on stalks of celery or fistfuls of curly kale all day. You'll lose heaps of weight and will have a spotless digestive tract, I'm sure. Just be proactive about taking, like, 15 Beano with each meal. Gas isn't cute, even if it's being caused by adorable produce like grape tomatoes and baby carrots.

Some people will get all technical and allow themselves to have sashimi, but staunch raw foodists will shake their heads at this practice. I don't see what's wrong with it, especially since sushi is, like, so yum. Anyway, soaked nuts and sprouted seeds are allowed, but make sure to watch how much you eat. They're still packed with calories and, this, aren't totally conducive to rapid fat obliteration.

People on the raw food diet love to chirp about mental clarity and feelings of euphoria, but I think that they're just really happy because they can slip into Gareth Pugh leather leggings without putting up a struggle. I highly doubt that weeping into bowls of raw radicchio and consuming bland vegetables dressed in the salt of my tears would make me feel vibrant and more alive. I mean, I would be completely ecstatic about sticking to a strict diet of copper pennies and shards of glass if it, too, left me with a 3-inch thigh cap. But to each her own, I suppose.

It's also well known that a lot of working models are technically raw foodies since they basically just consume cauliflower smoothies and piles of wilted spinach. No wonder they always look so sad. But have you seen their hip bones? Um, yea.

So I totally just ordered a raw organic vegan Kale Dulse Salad and a cold-pressed coffee from Seamless. They better fucking hurry before all the nutrients break down. Ooh, do you think calories can break down over time too? Let's hope so. Enzymes, here I come!

The One Food Diet

Basically, anyone who lacks even a smidgen of self-control should consider this dietary tactic. It allows no leeway for excuses or exceptions so long as you follow just one simple rule: consume only one type of food.

When you define vague dietary rules, such as allowing low-carb or liquid items, you'll find that the hungry fatass within will convince herself that certain foods fit the guidelines. I mean, butterscotch pot de creme is technically liquid, right? And an entire stick of butter covered in guacamole is totes low-carb. Inhaling, like, three bowls of blood orange sorbet doesn't constitute cheating on a raw food diet, either...

Stop. Just stop. You obvi have issues with following rules, oh voracious one. Technicalities are just fancy excuses for the dietarily inept, and one shouldn't be allowed to make risky, body composition-altering decisions when starving and delirious. So do as the OCD-inflicted waifs do and pick one food with which to thoroughly familiarize yourself to the point of disgust for the next two weeks.

You won't have to waste time obsessing over meal planning or calculating nutritional contents. It's basically like putting your diet on auto-pilot ass you graze on your one allowed food in a fat-shedding haze. Honestly, yo can pick whatever you want, since you'll likely get sick of it as time goes on. Like, did you know that Uma Thurman once went on an ice cream diet? She lost 25 pounds over a six-week period. On ice cream. ON ICE CREAM.

Now, I don't suggest that you pick the congealed, sweetened mucus of dairy cows as your food of choice, as that' s just, like, not really a good starting point. Pick something like tomatoes, or green apples, or avocados, Bananas and grapes work also, but do keep in mind that they are quite high in sugar. My personal choices are either eggs or grapefruit with Splenda. Whatever you choose, make sure to stick with it. That's all there is to it.

Some proponents believe that partaking in the consumption of only one type of food allows your body to become more efficient at digesting and metabolizing it, but I'm not sure. I mean, I guess it makes sense. But who really gives a fuck about all of that health-boosting mumbo jumbo? The real reason that this diet is so attractive and effective is because it helps to teach you a lesson in discipline and restraint. By sticking to this diet for just a short while, you'll see that you're more than capable of controlling yourself when it comes to impulsive food-related decisions.

It's like dietary therapy, but without having to visit an overpriced psychiatrist who just nods along and asks you obvious questions about how you feel about that time you ate a lobster roll. Um, I feel like shit, okay? You didn't need to remind me. That's why I'm allowing myself zucchini slices for the next month, duh.

The Two Cup Diet

Did you know that your stomach is only the size of your fist? So why are you stuffing it until you can't breathe? Um, I don't care if you're a firm believer in Volumetrics- that method only works if you're feasting on organic iceberg lettuce and sparkling water.

Now, getting a bariatric surgery done costs roughly $30,000. Trust me, I went to go get an estimate. The doctor was actually really rude and scoffed at me during the consultation, which I really took offense to. He was all, "Um, you know that this is for, like, clinically obese people, right?" So I was like, "Er, yea. It's called preventative medicine, natch." And then he, like, totally rolled his eyes at me and said in a condescending tone, "You obvi don't qualify for the procedure, especially since your BMI totes falls into the underweight category. Sorrz." I'm not an expert in medical law or anything, but I think that's called discrimination. Horrible bedside manner, not to mention illegal, no? I really need to call my dad's attorney about this.

Anyway, my friend, Melissa, found a totally cheap alternative to getting your stomach stapled until it's the size of a walnut. She learned it from a group of 14 year old Latvian models that she shared a room with during Milan Fashion Week. You basically take two tiny Dixie cups and fill them with whatever food you might please, though preferably of the low-calorie, low-carb and low-fat variety. Then you can enjoy your mini feast without worrying about portion control. It takes the stomach roughly four hours to empty, so you can set an alarm on your iPhone for four hour intervals to remind you of when you're allowed to have another two cups. Um, genius, right? And who said that teenaged models needed to stay in school to have good heads on their shoulders?

Don't abuse this system by using the red plastic cups of beer pong infamy, though. You're not an obese retired frat boy living it up in Murray Hill. By Dixie cups, I'm referring to the uber cutesy 3 oz. waxed paper ones that are meant for gargling in the bathroom. If you want to take it to the next level, you can also use tiny utensils, like oyster forks, to slow down your consumption and increase satiety. There w as this one girl that I interned with who carried around a tiny Tiffany & Co. silver baby spoon with her everywhere. Totally crazy, yet totally chic. Did I mention that she weighed, like, 85 pounds?

So who cares if you look like an unhinged betch for scarfing down tiny bites of wild mushroom fricassee from a mouthwash-delivery vessel using a toddler's fork? You'll be laughing all the way past the antiseptic-scented waiting room of a really rude weight loss surgeon's shabbily decorated Upper East Side clinic while your critics slowly begin to qualify for Lap-band installation. Um, who said that preventative medicine had to cost a year's worth of college tu8ition? People with no self-control, obvi.

The HCG Diet

Only a batshit cray person would willingly stab herself repeatedly while wincing and bellowing in pain, right? Um, yes, but that mentally unstable waif wielding the 25 gauge needle sure is tiny. Enter the HCG Diet, a regimen in which one is required to inject oneself with a variety of vitamins and hormones while subsisting on a maximum of 500 calories per day. HCG, or Human Chorionic Gonadotrophin, is basically a hormone produced by pregnant women soo after conception for... I don't know. The guy who came up with the idea to implement it in a weight loss regimen said that it suppresses your appetite and helps with fat loss, or whatever. Anyway its use as a weight loss agent is, like, really frowned upon by the FDA, which everyone knows must mean that it totally works. Like, remember ephedra? And phentermine? Uh, yea.

It's really easy. You basically follow an ultra low-calorie, low-carbohydrate, low fat, high-protein diet (uh, don't we regardless?) and give yourself daily injections of Vitamin B-12 and HCG in your hips and thighs, respectively. A physician or medical professional has to hand then over, so expect to pay a pretty penny (or 60 thousand) for a three-week program. If you're feeling super ambitious, you can also drag the whole thing our for six weeks!

Everyone will be like, "Er, of course you're losing weight. You're only eating 500 calories each day!" Ohmigod, really? Thanks for the news flash. I totally didn't know that. Um, of course anyone will lose weight on a 500-calorie diet, you observant twats. But who (other than an anorexic ballerina) actually has the discipline to stick to those numbers? Uh, a really chic girl who just blew one week's pay on dietary heroin, that's who.

So even if HCG isn't actually clinically proven to assist with fat loss or appetite suppression, who really cares? Even if you had spent hundreds of dollars on sterile syringes filled with Flinstones vitamins diluted in Diet Sprite, you would still have an obligation to stick to the accompanying regimen. I';s called financial responsibility, people!

But, oh Chic One, how come we can't just use the homeopathic drops that they sell on Amazon? I don't want to hurt myself, you say. I really don't like needles, you cry out. Um, in case you haven't been paying attention, there's a concept called "No Pain, A Lotta Gain." And it's just, like, totes legit? I mean, just because you rub to botulism toxin all over your skin doesn't mean that you're going to do skit about your crow's feet or laugh lines. You're just going to have a really dirty face. But inject some Botox all up in those crevices? Um, hello Bruce Jenner!

Besides, didn't you know that "homeopathic" is just Latin for "faker than a Canal Street Kurakami Multicolore Monogram Speedy 25?" Ew.

The Cabbage Soup Diet

"I lost, like, 10 pounds in 3 days," the chic girl will announce with widened eyes to all of her entranced comrades. "I didn't even know that I had that much to lose!"

Going on the cabbage soup diet is akin to complaining about having to fly home for the holidays or binge drinking over Memorial Day Weekend- it's just ingrained in American culture. Eating disordered betches of yore have passed this timeless diet on from generation to generation and, as unglamorous as it may be, it still prevails as a magic bullet of sorts to this day. So when you need to get skinny stat, show a little patriotic spirit and boil up a giant vat of cabbage and under-seasoned water. Your tummy won't thank you, but your thigh gap sure will.

You can binge if you'd like, but I'm sure you won't want to. The soup isn't particularly enthralling to the taste buds, but the parboiled vegetables will help to satisfy the vacuous pit that is your empty stomach. And, even if you stuff yourself senseless with the tasteless broth, you'll still probably only consume a couple of hundred calories a day. Just don't try to stand up too quickly, or you might just faint from chic overload!

Some variations of the diet allow other foods, such as bananas and meat, but you really shouldn't stray from tradition. Like, what would your ancestors say? They would likely shake their pin curls in disappointment.

The basic recipe calls for cabbage (duh), celery, mushrooms, tomatoes, peppers, onions, carrots, pre-made bullion cubes and your seasonings of choice. Sounds super yum, right? Um, this is when you're supposed to nod and be like, "Ohmigod, delish."

Anyway, I wouldn't bother adding onions or carrots since they're uber starchy. I just don't want you to get kicked out of ketosis, you know? Come to think of it, throw those tomatoes out too. That bouillon just seems totes unnecessary also. Okay, so our soup will basically consist of mineral water and cabbage, I suppose. But now we're, like, totally doing the One Food Diet, too. And Paleo! And, like, this is uber vegan-friendly. Gawd, talk about multi-tasking.

The "I can't see it!" Diet

If you're a fixture on the fashion industry's party circuit, you are well aware of the au courant set's penchant for microscopic portions of distinguishingly decadent food, I mean, what exactly is the purpose of serving miniature cupcakes? Is this a test? Like, what's with the tiny sandwiches and cheeseburgers? Is the bread just there to keep your fingers clean? And someone please explain to me the obsession with canapes and fried puffs. All I see are fat and carbs sharing real estate on a tray smothered in grease and shame. It's actually really confusing yet insulting yet intriguing yet tempting yet cute yet revolting, all at the same time.

Am I supposed to eat it? I think I am. I mean, these kind caterers have already done all of the hard work and cut everything into tiny, guilt-free smidgens. And how terrible could everything be when the portion sizes are so adorable? That grilled truffle oil-infused gruyere sandwich can't be so bad for me, right? It's only, like, half the size of my Amex card. And that microscopic scone? It's the size of a quarter! Having one doesn't make me irresponsible.

Wait a minute. Ohmigod, are people watching? Do I look poor and desperate? How come no one else is eating? Should I not be eating either? I think I just saw that blogger pop a tiny piece of fried macaroni and cheese into his mouth. Or did he? I repeat, is this a test?

There is a reason that all of the offering at such glamorous parties are bite-sized enigmas of congealed cheese and bacon grease. They're your cheat treats! Enjoying a few tiny morsels of forbidden food is totes acceptable, so long as you don't carry around a plate laden with them. As a reward for all of the other 364 days a year that you deny yourself of such scrumptious evils, you are allowed this one window of glorious opportunity to indulge in two or, daresay, three pieces of wanton abandon.

Oh, but the fashion crowd is a clever one. While each itty-bitty hors d'ouevre might seem relatively innocuous, it is still a miniature recreation of something that you would never be caught dead eating in front of Anna Wintour. Thus, you must wolf it down as surreptitiously as possible while still keeping your composure. And in that is where the genius lies.

After committing such a deplorable act as inhaling a mini brownie in three seconds flat while crouched down behind a crowd of fashion photographers, you are overcome with remorse and shame. What has come of you? Have you no self-control? It wasn't even worth it! That's it- no more food for the rest of the night! Then you will ration out a mini green juice for the rest of the evening in hopes that it will at least help to dilute your transgressions.

Do you see what just happened? You got your junk food fix, yet your calorie count for the day will be kept low by the guilt that overwhelms you. If you're lucky, the remorse will spill over into the next day. Maybe even the rest pf the week! D you know what just happened? It's called psychology.

The I'm-fucking-rich-and-glamourous Diet

For the impossibly chic girl, it's raining oysters, sashimi and tartare every night, with a guarantee of accompanying champagne showers. She loves to order seafood towers for the table and is obsessed with rhubarb mignonette. "I'm basically on a raw food diet, as you know," she will explain to her friends as she persuades them into doing a $300 caviar tasting. "Just a really fancy one."

Or is black & blue filet mignon considered raw? Whatever. The chic girl loves her steak, especially if it's of the Kobe Wagyu variety. She'll do lobster or butterfish or even sea bream, but forgoes salmon because it's "so 2011." "I only do lox when I have Eggs Norwegian at Balthazar," she will say with a sniff as she pursues limited menus with disdain. "And I'm talking about Paris Balthazar, not the one on Spring."

She is like a culinary hipster in the sense that she basically shuns anything that wouldn't be available to the general public at Food Emporium. Um, farro risotto? With fucking kale? You better back away slowly before she scratches your face in frustration. How dare you offer her that. She doesn't do proletarian foods; didn't you know?

Basically, she will turn up her perfectly rhinoplasty job at the foods of mere mortals, rolling her eyes if someone suggests going out for pizza and snarling in disgust at the mention of gourmet burgers. "I tried a cheeseburger for the first time whilst on holiday in London last year," she will say as she lets out a harrowing sigh. "It was the worst experience of my entire life."

"Cava is not champagne!" she will vehemently cry out, snatching the menu away from the basic bitch who had the audacity to suggest it in her presence. "And oysters from New Jersey? Get the fuck out of my face."

This emaciated diva loves herself a good tasting menu, even if it consists of, like, 18 courses. But haven't you noticed how all of the nicer restaurants, like Per Se and Daniel, are basically just never-ending parades of microscopic low-carb morsels? Obvi the people in the kitchen get the picture! And as for dessert, this lavish betch never partakes- she's just so full, you know?

So be it foie grais brulee, organic rabbit rillettes or diver scallop carpaccio, this extravagant girl knows how to execute the zero-carb diet in style. And while other chic ladies around town may have to sacrifice pricey food in favour of fashion, this is never an issue for this rich bitch (or, perhaps, her sugar daddy). For the girl on the FRaG Diet, compromise is never an option.

[talulajones-stories]

For Now

She turns the knobs to the shower, steam immediately gathering in the clawfoot tub. And she slips the thin straps off her shoulders, peeling the dress downward over her lace bra, commencing to rolling it over her curves when her phone dings, pulling her focus.

‘Punta Cana?’

She bites down on her lip, but the smile finds its way through. Damon is nothing if not persistent.

She thumbs back, ‘Close.’

Damon has been texting her daily, taking shots as to where she might have run off to.

“How am I supposed to stay out of trouble with you gone.”

“Try your best.” She texts back, though she is not attached how he behaves anymore, not like how she used to in the past, the encouragement is rote. 

She watches the text bubble appear and then disappear, and then reappear with his response. “Are you saying I’m on my own?”

She then wonders if he’s okay, if home is okay, biting at her nails, instead of making any effort to ask him that.

He double texts, probably just as nervous of her response and she was to answer it. “Send me a pic. I’m beginning to forget what you look like.”

She swishes her mouth to the side, staring at his request.

The last time they saw each other was at that biker bar, when he found her after her running into his brother.  There are holes in her memory of what all happened between them, some of them lost to that bottle of Jack Daniels they finished, and some she does remember, but doesn’t know what to make of them.

Like the way she felt when he straddled the stool next to her, his legs open, blocking her in, letting everyone in the bar know she was with him. He had leaned into her, drinking from her glass, placing his mouth on the imprint of her lip gloss, his eyes locked on hers. She had asked him why he was there, frustrated that he had tracked her down, only for him to simply smile and say, “Haven’t you heard the saying, Bonnie? The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.”

She swipes at the steam on the bathroom mirror, leaving a clear streak for her to see herself and approve.  She thinks she will send him something to throw him off. Send him a selfie, with the angle just right, undoing her braids and tousling her dark strands, letting the light shine on her bare shoulders, giving the semblance of not only being naked, but that wherever she is, that he doesn’t know about, she’s having a lot of fun.

She snaps the pic and lowers the phone, finger poised over the button, wishing she could be a fly on the wall to see his reaction—when it hits her. The rest of the fragments of that night. Hearing herself, distant, arguing with him in the gravel lot outside the bar, him holding her keys out of reach, and her shoving him. “You treated Enzo like he stole something from you the entire time we were together.” And then him grabbing her, the keys digging into her skin so deeply she can feel it now, his mouth so close to hers as he spat, “Because he did.”

With a decisive flick, she locks the screen, the image unsent, and finishes undressing to take her shower.

+++

Bonnie scrubs her skin raw with the loofah, butterscotch skin smarting red and irritated as she is as she stands under the hot spray of water.

She wasn’t even angry with Damon anymore. She had been, at first—violently so. But she’d had years to get through that. Enzo helped. And she’d come to accept the fact that Damon was always going to be, well, Damon.

He had gone on and on about how she should have read his letter when they were being civil in the bar, when she was actually happy he had found her. He said if she had read it then it would have changed everything. She told him she didn’t want to hear another fucking word about that damn letter.

She still has it, though. The letter. It’s packed up with the rest of the things she hid in boxes out in her Gram’s garage.

She pulls down the shower head, sets it to massage, and angles it between her legs, trying to find release. Closing her eyes, she pictures a stranger, maybe that biker, maybe someone else with dark hair.

Her mind drifts, uncooperative. It clings to Damon and his apologies. “I shouldn’t have said that about Enzo,” he’d said, blocking her from leaving him alone in that parking lot. Gravel had crunched beneath their feet, her vision blurred with hot tears as his leather jacket had blocked her view of the car. He had lifted her braid over her shoulder, tucking it behind her so he could cradle the side of her neck, holding her still to get her to hear him out, his voice a broken whisper when he said, “Don’t go, Bon.”

She focuses on the water pressure and the pounding sensation, longing for it to bring her to the present moment. But it doesn’t. Her body refuses to respond.

Her phone dings again. Of course, it does.

She slams the shower head into place, and reaches for a towel.

There was a time when Damon was who she wanted—like when her life was tethered and traded away in a spell that put her best friend into a coma, or when a militarized faction of hunters was trying to track her down to use her in their twisted experiments. But he made a choice, and he left her to sleep in box.

She ends her conversation with Damon, texting back that he didn’t have to keep checking up on her; she was good.

[raineyana]

What is your normal grocery list? I’m about to be living at a dorm and I am looking for stuff to stock up on, I can’t really keep frozen foods though

i actually dont even cook all that much so i dont keep a lot of frozen foods either. this is my regular list when i go, usually weekly.

FASTING FOODS

okay so youre probably like. raine you arent supposed to eat anything when you fast. hear me out bc this is how i consistently fast a 20-4 schedule everyday, with a lot less binges than before, AND getting all of the benefits of fasting. and yeah, i still binge from time to time, but my binges are far less because my stomach actually cannot handle being fed over 1000 calories anymore, especially not all at once.

these are my ESSENTIALS so theyre pretty much the only things i consistently buy weekly.

cucumbers

chicken broth (0cal kind)

seaweed snacks

pickled ginger

tea (any, but i like trying new flavors ! my favorite is lemon ginger because it helps digestion, and green tea because it speeds up your metabolism. also a lot healthier than diet coke with the same amount of caffeine, also less likely to spike your blood sugar and kick you out of ketosis- which will make your cravings for food much worse)

...dont get me wrong i couldnt live without diet coke. but sometimes ill go for the healthier option.

why i eat these foods while i fast

these are foods that have extremely low cals and carbs (like less than 2 grams per/serving) so they wont kick you out of ketosis (which is the major benefit to fasting, where your body burns fat at a higher rate). when youre in ketosis, your body stops sending you as many cravings, which is why sometimes it feels easier to fast 24 hours after you last ate as opposed to 3 hours.

because i spend the majority of my time fasting, (and i would never be able to do that without these foods) i go through these items pretty quick.

but otherwise i only have to buy other healthy foods on a biweekly or even monthly basis, because i wont eat them as fast ! heres some things i rotate through depending on how sick of them i am lol.

regular food

built bars - essential for me. tons of protein, less sugar than other bars, and relatively low cal.

somebody on here introduced me to these and im soo glad they did. i dont remember who but if youre seeing this ilysm.

tuna creations packets - rly good for on the go, tons of flavors, lots of protein so they're really filling for only being 70-90cals depending on the flavor

blueberries + apples - so hard to over eat these two items, plus fiber

rice cakes - self explanatory

pistachios or sunflower seeds - great for curbing hunger, but im a little sick of them rn

a low cal air popped popcorn - i forget which brand i have rn, but its pretty good and has a lot of fiber.

chobani yogurt + yogurt protein drinks (50cal) - the fact that these r 50cals amaze me for how good they taste. the yogurt drinks are my favorite bc theres actually a shit ton of protein and taste pretty good without actually having to make myself a protein shake. the cookies and cream and peaches and cream are my favorites ive tried. good for breaking a fast with.

thats all i can think of atm ! sry for the fucking essay i hope this was a little helpful at least.

typing this out manically made me realize im a little crazy. i cant say with my whole chest that you should listen to me and my d1sordered thoughts, but i think everyone on here knows that already so... uh

please be kind to yourselves. take ur vitamins (even while fasting) i genuinely love you all every one of you fucked up bitches like me.

goodnight <3

[makethatelevenrings]

Somewhere Only We Know - TWO

Chapter Warnings: spoilers for 2x02, swearing but that’s part of the show idk why you would be surprised by that

shoutout to @yanna-banana​ for showing me this Instagram dupe site so I can make this a bit more ~interactive~ since reader is, y’know, a social media manager. also thanks for ur patience my lovelies, i’m having “ahhhh im graduating” depressive states and all my energy is going towards finals and existing rn.

Series Masterlist

“Okay. Laptop. Charger. Keys. Coffee. Shoes. Shoes!”

For some reason, you were a mess this morning. You had been repeating your list of things you needed over and over again and yet every time you kept discovering something else you had forgotten. Your bag lay half-packed on the couch as you ran around like a chicken with its head cut off in pursuit of your shoes. Seriously, how the fuck did you lose the shoes you had grabbed from your closet just a minute ago?

That’s because they were in your hands.

Sighing, you pulled on the sensible flats and took another moment to look around your room and list out all the things you needed for work today. The TV played in a lone drone behind you and you turned your head to see This Morning playing. Philip and Holly were interviewing some guy from that one reality show.

“What about Amy? Are you going to wait for her?” Holly asked.

“Nah, no. I was just playing a game, know what I mean?” the guy replied. Christ, was that Jamie Tartt? It was, wasn’t it. “Find the fittest girl there, have sex with her in the toilet, ask her to marry you. Strategy.”

“Wow,” you drawled before you shut off the TV. “He’s a piece of shit.”

You headed for the door and quickly backtracked. You almost forgot your entire bag and the leftovers from the shoot you had last night. Ugh, you needed more coffee.

~~~

You were scrolling through TikTok in search of a new trend to use for a Richmond video when all five foot two inches of your boss came bursting into your office.

“Oh, sorry! I should have knocked. Get your bag, babes, we’re going to lunch,” she exclaimed. “There’s this cafe that’s a ten minute walk from here and they’ve got the best coffee.”

You knew better than to argue with the pure ball of energy that was Keeley Jones. In the short time you’ve known her, you loved the beaming blonde. She and Rebecca were infectious in their laughter, light, and kindness. When you first interviewed, you were intimidated by the two women, but you quickly learned that they were goofy as hell and always down to gossip.

Grabbing your purse, you dutifully followed Keeley through the maze of hallways. She passed the locker room without a second glance, but you made sure to peek over your shoulder to see a few of the guys streaming out of the doors.

“Yo, Keeley!” someone called. She spun around and waved at whoever yelled and then grabbed your hand, pulling you over to talk to a few of the guys.

“Hi Isaac! Have you met our new social media manager yet? She’s gonna be the one making you all look sexy on the Gram now,” she announced. You offered them a tentative smile and the large man in front of you beamed.

“Isaac McAdoo,” he introduced. You gave him your name in turn and then cleared your throat. You weren’t as charismatic or bubbly as Keeley, but you were trying to make more of an effort. Your last job was filled with a few passive aggressive comments thrown over cubicle walls and then bossa nova jazz everyday. No one had been chatty or nice the way everyone was at Richmond.

“I’ve actually been meaning to set up meetings with all the players,” you explained. “My job is to handle the team’s socials, but I also want to integrate the players' ideas and individual brands. I’d also like to know if anyone is working with a management team so I can coordinate with them on certain posts.”

“Isn’t she fucking brilliant?” Keeley exclaimed.

Isaac puffed out his chest and flexed his biceps. “As long as you make us look good, then I’m in.”

Keeley patted you on the shoulder. “We should get going to lunch, but check your email soon. I’ll make sure we can coordinate times to meet.”

“Awesome. Nice to meet you!” He darted off to go talk to someone else and Keeley slid her arm into the crook of yours so she could lead you out of the building and down the road.

“Isaac’s all bark and no bite unless you’re on the field,” she explained. “Sam is an absolute sweetie and Colin is darling. Richard is my go-to when I need to know a wine pairing and Zoreaux is a beast at Dance Dance Revolution. Bumbercatch is…”

Keeley listed off all the players on the team and you tried to keep a mental catalog of everything she said, but it was making your head spin. You were grateful once she stopped outside a small cafe that was indeed a short walk from Nelson Road. A simple vanilla latte and a chicken cobb salad was your order while Keeley got a complicated drink and a wrap.

The owner, Alex, handed the two of you your drinks and you turned with the intention of finding a table to wait for the food when Keeley stopped short. Some guy stood half-obscured by the plant shelves, but he stepped out once he realized he caught Keeley’s attention.

“Jamie?!” she exclaimed.

“I-I’m not stalking ya,” he blurted out. “I’ve been following you for, like, a few blocks now and I couldn’t text ya because I deleted your number.”

As he rambled on, his words started to fade in and out as you took him in. His slicked back hair made him look like a corny Godfather character and the all black ensemble didn’t help. You could understand why people fawned over him with that strong jaw and blue eyes, but as his lips moved all you could hear was his smarmy talk from the show this morning. 

“So, yeah, I’ve been following you for the last few blocks. No, I’m lying. I’ve been following you for your whole lunch hour. But I’ve just been trying to build up the courage to say hi…so…hi.” His voice trailed off and he shrugged.

“That’s, like, the definition of stalking,” you murmured which drew his attention to you. Jamie Tartt was starting to feel like a bad omen that was following you around.

“Hi, sorry. Jamie Tartt.” He offered you a cocky smile that you recognized from the TV that morning and you merely glanced down at his outstretched hand. You had no idea where that hand had been. Raising a single eyebrow, you let your gaze trail up from his hand to his face.

“I’ll go find us a table,” you said to Keeley before you brushed past him and found an empty table by the window. You always loved sitting by the window and watching the world pass by. You could make up stories about the people that passed by. Like the lady walking two poodles. Maybe she was some CEO or maybe she was an undercover agent. That would be sick as hell.

“Sorry about that, babe,” Keeley apologized. She placed your salad in front of you and then took the seat across from you. “Now, I just want to say that your idea about meeting all the players? Brilliant. Absolutely fucking brilliant. When we get back to the office, we can set up a calendar for everyone to schedule a time to meet with you. How’s that sound?”

“That’s great. I really love working here.” You looked towards the door where Jamie Tartt was heading out of, a coffee clutched in his hand. He glanced back at the table you were sitting at and you immediately looked away and back at Keeley. You offered her a tight smile and nodded along to whatever she was saying.

Hopefully that was the last time you would ever see Jamie Tartt.

Tag List: @shiptheship​

[slamminslamminmcgill]

doing ket with lalo 🥰 lil drabble based on my last dick appointment teehee

warning: intox (ketamine, weed, and poppers. mentions of mushrooms and coke), rough sex, choking, anal

Special K, Vitamin K, Indica cocaine, Horse tranquilizer; ketamine goes by a lot of names. It’s one of many substances that you knew about in the abstract, but you’d never been in the room with it. That is, until you started sleeping around with Lalo. Growing up as a prince in the Salamanca dynasty, he’d been around oodles of drugs his whole life, and he could get you anything you were curious about. You wanna trip every once in a while? He’ll get you a pound of shrooms to keep you sufficiently stocked for your travels. And Salamanca weed was BY FAR the best you’ve ever had, be it smoked or eaten in something delicious. Coke was still a bridge too far for you, but ketamine sounded like a relatively safe alternative. Like, it’s used to treat depression. That’s gotta be a good sign, right?

You brought it up to him, and the next time you saw him, he brought some over.

After a few bong rips and an introductory round of rough fucking, you were warmed up and ready to try it.

“So... what's it feel like?”

"Well, ketamine is a dissociative, so you'll feel slowed down. Your body will feel heavy, might stumble when you walk...” Lalo poured some white powder on a compact mirror, and cut them into neat lines using a metal credit card. “The only visual difference is things will have, like... a trail to them, kinda. Like, you can see the movement of things more clearly... I like it for sex 'cause it makes it feel like there's more of an impact to it, y'know? Everything hits harder."

"And it's safe, right? Like you can't overdose on it?"

"Oh, yeah, nah, you'll be fine. We only got half a gram here, anyway. If you take too much, you might go into what's called a k-hole. But if that happens, you just go to sleep. No big deal.” He tapped the credit card on the mirror to shake some excess powder off, then continued to cut the lines. “I've actually been to parties where everyone's on too much K and they're all zoned out. Kind of a bummer, actually."

Not wanting to overdo yourself and kill the vibe, you thought it best to start slow. "Give me the tiniest baby bitch line you can."

"You got it. Just tap me if you want more, okay, mijo?”

“Okay!” You replied with a cheery grin.

Lalo gave the credit card a few final taps, and pointed to the smaller of the two lines. "Take that one." He brought his straw to the bigger one. "You've snorted through a straw before, right?"

"Uh... no actually."

"It's intuitive. You'll get it." Lalo said before serving himself the thicker line. One deep sniff, and it was gone, up inside his nostril. He sniffled a few times, sucking in the trace amounts stuck to his nose hairs, and grimaced at the flavor. “God, I hate that taste. So nasty.” He reached over and grabbed one of the two soda bottles on the nightstand. The other was for you. He warned you about how gross and chemical-y ketamine tastes. After cracking the bottle open and taking a swig, he handed you the straw. “Go for it, chiquito.”

You followed his lead: inhaling the powder, cringing at the chemical taste, and taking a drink to wash it down. You sat still for a moment, allowing the drug to take effect. “Hmm… okay…” You mused, evaluating your altered senses. The first thing you noticed was a feeling of being weighed down. That must be the heaviness he mentioned. You waved your arm in front of your face, and you noticed individual frames of motion as it moved. A trail, just like he said. “Okay… I think I’m getting it.”

“Yeah, there you go!” Lalo smiled and wrapped his arms around you from behind, hugging your back to his chest and kissing the top of your head. You felt more pressure in his touch than usual. It felt deeper. “Now… where were we?”

…

Not long after, you found yourself on all fours, ass up, pressed into the corner of your bed. Lalo had you in a headlock, his arms crossed around your neck, choking you as he rammed his thick cock into your weakened body. Your fingers fumbled with the poppers you were holding, desperately trying to huff them and open up before he could rip your asshole apart. He growled feral filth in your ear the whole time.

“Mmm, you know what’s the best part about ketamine? It’s that you get so relaxed… So pliable… So stupid… It’s so easy for me to just… mix your fucking guts around… Use you however I want… And you can’t do anything to stop it... Only thing you can do is just. Fucking. Take it.”

[skcirthinq]

*me like. A few months ago?* Oh, I sure did enjoy @amevello-blue and @alicat54cwriting 's Double Rainbow series. I should check out other stuff they've written.

*me now, with like. 20 sketchbook pages filled* Y'all there's like. So many babies. And the gay-ass rabbit and the gay-ass turtle and the aroace-ass turtle who apparently can't see an unaccompanied child without adopting them. And the other turtle who can be described similarly. And the goths!

So anyways. I read Pawn's Gambit, loved it, filled a few pages just for that fic....

In no particular order, so spoilers ahead, obviously.

Assorted scenes from the fic! Everyone's fine! See, Sheldon's even fine! That's not Hamato ghost bs at all, ignore Gram Gram and oh fuck that's Sister Kraang.

And even worse.

Bishop.

Yeah, so if any of the sketches piqued your interest, go read Pawn's Gambit! There's context, I promise!

[cakepoppresent]

I Don't Have To Do a Damn Thing!

Veroinca: You looked so handsome walking across that stage. I think Grams was about to cry

Vaughn: Probably, she's sensitive.

The guilt is eating away at Vaughn, he knows he needs to talk to Veronica but he can never seem to find the time. "Sweetheart we should talk somewhere private"

Veroinca: Right now? I wanted to find my parents

Vaughn: I would prefer the sooner the better

Veroinca: You look so serious! Let's meet my parents real quick then we can talk

Vaughn: Your parents already know me, sweetheart

Veronica: This is different!! Let's go!

Veronica pulls Vaughn along while scanning the crowd for her parents. Vaughn on the other hand is a bundle of nerves.

Veroinca: I found them! Dad! Mom! I've been looking for you everywhere. I wanted to introduce Vaughn Leary! My boyfriend. Vaughn my parents

Vaughn: Nice to see you again in better circumstances Mr and Mrs Reeves

Blair: Oh! Xavier speaks so highly of you. I'm happy to hear you and Veronica get along so well. She can bit of a handful, I hope you can manage

Vaughn: Don't worry. I'm able to handle

Brayden: I hear your grandma and cousin were at your graduation? We should have dinner together

Vaughn: I would love that. I'll set up a date. They continue to mingle and set up plans for the summer.

The conversation ends Vaughn and Veroinca find themselves sitting at a secluded booth. Finally, some quiet time. It may not be the best place but it's better to rip the bandage off and beg forgiveness than have Veronica find out from a different source.

Vaughn: Veronica, we need to talk

Veroinca: You're using my name? Are you going to break up with me?

Vaughn: Never.

Before Vaughn can continue a call cuts him off. It's an important call he couldn't ignore "Hold on for me Princess I'll be right back"

Veroinca: Let's leave after, it's getting boring

Vaughn: Sure, we'll go back to my Gram's place. I'll make us something to eat

Veronica waits patiently then begins to notice more stares aimed are being aimed at her. The whispers start to get louder and people start to point. It's hard to ignore until she receives a notification on her phone and her world gets quiet

___________________________________________________________

Gossip Girl Blast

Vaughn, notorious for his string of short-lived romances and his inability to stay faithful, seems to be reverting to his old ways. Sources say he's only interested in Veronica for one thing – to add another notch to his bedpost

XOXO, Gossip Girl

___________________________________________________________

Vaughn arrives back at the main hall and notices the whispers and the stares. His heart drops as he finds Veronica where he left her. Phone in her hand gripping it tight. "Princess?"

Veronica: Is it true?"

He knows what she is asking but he doesn't want to answer. Fucking hell.

Veroinca: I don't even know why I'm asking you. Of course its true...I should have known you weren't serious. How many times were you going to fuck me before you got bored

Vaughn is quiet, he can't lie anymore not at this critical moment "I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you" Veronica lets out a shaky laugh "Wanted to tell me? Tell me what? that I was just some conquest?"

Vaughn: Baby, Veronica please we can talk about this. Right now what I feel for you is real. I meant what I said about being the man you deserve

Veroinca: Why should I believe you! I thought...you really liked me...I thought that...we wer-"

Veroinca is choking back on her tears, losing her train of thought. Malcolm warned her so many times. Why didn't she listen? Now everyone in SanMy sees her as another fucking conquest.

Vaughn: Veronica. I'm begging, please. You have to know I love you and I'm sorry. I was dumb then but I know better now.

Veroinca: You love me? Are you insane?? You don't know what that is!

Vaughn: Please...just believe me

Veronica: I don't have to do a damn thing!

Vaughn is in shambles his worst nightmare is coming true and he can't do anything to wake up from the terror. He tries to approach Veroinca, hug her, touch her hands, something to ease her pain but she slaps him away. "Don't you ever touch me again Whatever this is. It's over"

Vaughn watches Veronica walk past him and runs straight into her mother's arm. He can see her shoulders shake from her tears. Standing there Vaughn feels his world begin to crumble around him. He finally found something good and he fucking ruined it. How can he ever fix this?

Previous - Next

[thebluestbluewords]

Jalentines day when????

"I thought you were gonna ask me to be your valentine," Mal admits. "I was dreading it all day. I thought I was gonna puke at lunch when those girls came in to do the candy-grams." 

Jay slows down, which is the absolute last thing Mal wants him to do. They're so close to home, to her and Evie's room, to safety from the potential humiliation of the hallways.

"Killer..." 

He's giving her that little half-smile, the one that shouldn't make her stomach flip anymore. 

Mal rolls her eyes back into her head just so she can stop looking at him. She's going to be expelled if he keeps up with all this looking. There's things that are decent to do in the hallway, and then there's the thoughts that pop into Mal's head when Jay does that little half-smile, and the two categories are like a pen diagram. A van diagram? They're like the nerd shit where the two circles don't touch. 

"Shut up, I know," Mal groans, and very carefully doesn't think about anything else Jay's mouth could do that makes her groan. "Don't humiliate me more." 

Jay stops walking entirely, and turns to face her. 

Oh, no. Oh, no no no. Mal is not mentally prepared to handle this, not today. Not when she's been accosted by love on all sides for the whole day, and she's so close to home free, where she can eat unholy amounts of discount chocolate from the student government booth and maybe throw the gross ones with nuts at Carlos, who's going to show up in her room at some point whether she invites him or not. 

Jay's smile is turning sort of wobbly around the edges. "We've been together for like three years, killer. I thought you being my valentine was a given."

"No." 

His smile slides off entirely, which, okay, is something that makes Mal feel a little bit glad. She shouldn’t be the only one who’s caught off-guard and off-balance by this stupid holiday. "Yeah? I didn't know you needed a candy-gram to make it official."

“I don’t need anything to make it official, because we’re not valentines,” Mal snaps. “Because valentine’s day is a stupid Auradon holiday and we’re better than them and it’s not like I’d want to be treated like a princess anyway.” 

Jay’s smile oozes back onto his face like an oil spill, dark and shining and dangerous. “You’re not a princess. I’d never make the mistake of treating you like one, killer.” 

Mal graciously allows him to back her up, until they’re pressed tight into the space next to one of the suits of armor. “Damn right I’m not.” 

“You’re a fucking dragon. A vicious,” Jay dips his head down, so that they’re eye-to-eye, mouth-to-mouth. “Cold-blooded villain.” 

Mal will not be the one to break and kiss him first, because flattery aside, they still have a matter to take care of. “I’m evil, I know. Enough with the flattery, Jaybird. You were really going to ask me to be your valentine?” 

“I didn’t think I had to ask!” 

“You assumed?” Mal arches a single perfect brow, which yeah, maybe she let Evie pluck into perfection last night. Sue her. It’s not like she’s totally invulnerable to stupid, cheesy Auradon holidays. “You know what they say about assumptions.” 

Jay pulls back. “Let’s pretend I don’t, M, because I’m pretty fucking confused what you’re actually going for here. Are you mad at me because I didn’t ask you to be my valentine, or because I wanted to?” 

“Does that question even make sense?” 

“I don’t know!” Jay leans back even more, until he can rip the beanie off his head (gray, because of course he’s not going to wear the red one on the day that everyone in the school is wearing red, because he’s a villain, and he’s got to stay unpredictable like that) and shove a hand through the tangled mess of his hair underneath. “I thought– I don’t know! That we were supposed to be valentines by default! I was gonna give you all the chocolate I stole from the student gov kids once we got back to your room, and like, maybe I was gonna see how some of it tastes from your mouth, I dunno!” 

Oh. 

Shit. 

“You stole chocolate for me?” Mal asks, squashing down the fluttery feeling in her chest. She doesn’t need any stupid butterflies in her stomach. She’s got more than enough chocolate in her backpack to kill the whole pack of them, and she’ll eat it with or without Jay there. “I thought you were done with that shit. You’ve been doing the whole perfect Auradon boy thing for months now.”

“Killer.” 

“Don’t look at me like that.” 

Jay’s eyes go even more liquid. “Dragon.” 

“No, nope, I can’t handle any emotions outside of my room, I have an appearance to maintain.” 

“I stole so much chocolate for you.” Jay croons, cradling the words in the curve of the smile that’s back again and threatening to take over his face. “I had to get a second bag to fit all the chocolate I stole. Because you’re my va–” 

Mal shoves her hand over his mouth before he can finish the terrible (wonderful) word. “I said no more emotions in the hallway!” 

Jay licks her hand without a single sign of repentance for his crimes. “Fine, take me to your bedroom first. I’ll tell you you’re my valentine wherever you want me to.” 

“Ugh.” 

“You love it.” 

“I love… free chocolate.” 

“Aw, I didn’t know I was getting a new pet name today. You’re the best, killer.” 

Mal rolls her eyes, but this time it’s to push back the totally un-villainous smile she can feel creeping onto her own face. “Back to my room, freebie. I’ll let you have your gross mushy feelings all over me once we’re out of sight.” 

“Aww, romantic.” 

“I hate you.” 

“You love me.” 

“I guess I do,” Mal admits. “Even if Auradon valentine’s is a stupid holiday and I’d rather die than have somebody sing a candy gram song about me.” 

“Oh, let me just call something off real quick–” 

Mal hip-checks him into the suit of armor. It makes a truly spectacular crash, which really feels like the spirit of the holiday. A spectacular, public mess of things. “I’m going to eat all the chocolate I stole for you by myself if you don’t get a move on, Jaybird.” 

Jay bounces up again, and throws the helmet of the armor towards one of the stupidly delicate vases at the other end of the hallway, next to Audrey and Hannah’s room. “Race you there?”

[octuscle]

Hey there, Support for this Chronivac thingy? I have no idea what this is but my flatmate keeps talking about it on the phone with his bandmates , saying weird stuff like needing a new drummer and using it on me or smth? Him and I don't get along? Ive had to work hard doing medicine and he just rode on this music scolarship and gets to laze around and hook up and be a buff menace with his friends (lucky bastards).....They're this mean punk metal thingy and i can barely stand them being so loud and stuff practicing after the gym, whatever they're planning can't be good. Looking it up only led me here.....Any advice?

I am unsure now… There is a Chronivac account with a transformation going on…. Licensee is you. And the licence is also paid for with your credit card. It all looks fine to me…

During the lunch break in the canteen of the university hospital you catch yourself drumming with the cutlery on the edge of the table. Must be some song by your flatmates' band. Cool beat. Gets into your blood. And it's catchy… You don't usually listen to music while you study, but you search YouTube for videos of the band. Yeah, you're jealous. It just looks like a lot of fun. More fun than you're having in the library. And more fun than you'll have in the lectures. Fuck, maybe you should just skip pathology class today. And meet up with your flatmate and his band at the outdoor gym on the sports campus.

Shit, the band members are all well trained. Not a gram of fat on their wiry, muscular bodies. And they're all having fun. Of course they have a boombox with them on which they play their own songs. You have to admit, a great motivation for training. You haven't worked out like this in a long time. And yet you feel fitter than ever after the training. Fuck, you really neglected your body, that felt really good!

Normally you would go home now, tidy up, study a bit. But the boys have a gig at a big club. Wouldn't you like to come along? You feel a bit uncomfortable. The guys are all wearing leather jeans and black tank tops with band logos on them. Apart from your sports shorts, you only have the white jeans and the white polo shirt from the hospital. You are also sweaty from training. You shouldn't worry. Everyone at the concert is sweaty. And when it really gets going, you'll be partying bare-chested like everyone else there anyway. Okay, it's one night. Tomorrow, Friday, there's not much going on at the university anyway. And you're only young once. So let's get into the hustle and bustle.

You party wildly and exuberantly with your friends. Where your tank top has gone, the devil knows. All this time it was still tucked into your leopard print jeans. But at some point during the pogo you lost it. You pull your wallet with the heavy chain out of your trousers and get beer for the boys with the last of your money. You have already drunk a few today. You've had just as many as a beer shower. Your hair is soaking wet from beer and sweat. But the evening is amazing! The main act of the evening is announced to the cheers of the masses. Your buddies push their way towards the stage. You ask where they want to go, they pull you along. As if in a trance, you let yourself be wired up. And then you take your beloved sticks and set the beat for the highlight of the evening.

The tour starts next week. If it goes badly, you have to make up a semester. If it goes well, the university will never see you again!

[nohoney]

been feeling dreamy over the song you that i want by divine lately…. anyway here’s us series smut. takes place between part 3 and part 4.

warnings: drugs (selling but no taking), brief mentions of past assault (not in explicit detail), voyeurism, just a teeny bit of humiliation

It takes a lot for Touya to decide that he won’t sell to someone anymore. He’s still sold to guys he hates and in turn hate him, but cordial enough to complete a transaction. There’s few that he’s willing to have a conversation with and others that he’d rather not stick around for. So Touya’s disgruntled to meet with a group that involve your ex-boyfriend with them. Motherfucking Jun, the one who put his hands on you and the one before he came along.

There’s an obvious tension when he pulls up but he keeps his composure even as Jun stares back at him.

Four adderall, a gram of ketamine, and fourteen grams of shrooms was the request and he’s just about to hand it off before he pulls back. He was already given cash and one venmo transaction with a fee tacked on so payment was made. He doesn’t care about anyone else from the group who are all waiting for their goods; he just fucking hates that Jun is apart of them.

“You, what the fuck do you plan on having?” Touya points his finger towards your ex-boyfriend. His mind flashes to the memory of when you had bruising on your neck, a frown set on his face that he swears is getting angrier the longer he looks at him.

Jun exhales through his nose, his nostrils flaring at first before he answers, “Shrooms.”

“I’m not selling to you if he’s going to take anything from me. He gets nothing.”

There’s a collective groan from the group, “C’mon Dabi, let’s not make it personal okay?”

But it is personal and Touya can’t forget the disrespectful and snide attitude from your ex from when they first met. He hates him, hates that Jun had ever fucked you first even if it was destiny that was supposed to pave the path for you and him to meet. The asshole mistreated you and didn’t give one shit about your feelings in the way he was supposed to. And the motherfucker who actually hurt you even if he ‘didn’t mean to’ as he claimed from that time just because he was drunk.

He wants to walk out but a better idea comes to mind. “You want all this shit for half off? I’ll cut you a real nice deal.” Touya offers, pulling the cash out from his pocket to count and returning half of the payment. “I’m just going to borrow you. You cooperate with me and you get to have fun at your little party.”

All eyes look to Jun and he himself is surprised along with everyone else. “We’re kinda looking to get fucked up now…” he says carefully, “What exactly do you want?”

Touya holds up one finger as a way to tell him to wait as he starts to fish out his phone, walking back towards the other room to get some distance and keeping his back turned away from the group. The phone rings a couple of times before it’s picked up, “Touya?”

He expected to hear Keigo’s voice but you picked up the phone instead, “Hey princess, give the phone to Keigo for me.”

“What, you can’t tell me?” You feign hurt before laughing and telling him to wait a second, “Kei, it’s Touya. He wants to have a secret, man-to-man conversation with you.”

Touya speaks a little lowly into the phone, his voice a little urgent but he knows that he’ll get the cooperation he’s seeking. As he glances back at the group, he can see everyone conversing with Jun as his eyes nervously look back to him. He’s getting the pressure from the group because no guy wants to be the asshole that made the plug mad and fucked up a sale. So he knows that it’s going to work exactly to his favor what he’s about to do. “Yeah, yeah you got it. How fast would you say that you’re going to be here?”

“Fifteen minutes.” Touya answers, “just make a show of it when I walk through the door but don’t drag it on either. No softy shit like I heard a few days ago. And keep the lighting good when I make the call.”

Keigo just agrees before hanging up the phone and Touya walks back to the group to stand in the spot he was in before. “Either half off or none at all, that’s the only choices you get. I’ll give it to you once I get what I want from you.” he poses it like a choice but everyone in the room knows that it’s not. Someone complains what they’re supposed to do in the mean time and they’re told to shut up. “Just get drunk, Jun here will pull through because he’s a good friend to all of you. Get in your car and follow behind me.”

Jun is apprehensive but he knows that he needs to cooperate.

Touya is polite enough to wait for Jun to find a parking spot near Keigo’s complex and leads him up the staircase after letting him in through the lobby. He’s pulling out his phone and making the video call but is sure to keep the speaker volume low so that the prick behind him isn’t privy to what he’s about to sit through. Keigo answers the video call and props his phone up quickly only to walk back in the view of the camera where you lay in the bed naked and with a hand waving the blond back over to you.

Good, just as Touya instructed him to.

Just right at the front door, he can hear your muffled moans from the inside and he doesn’t bother to look back to see Jun’s expression. He only wordlessly unlocks the door and allows your asshole ex-boyfriend in first before following in after and shutting the door. The symphony of your moans resounds through the apartment as both of them take their shoes off first. Touya directs to Jun to sit in the living room, passing by Keigo’s bedroom where you’re getting fucked by him roughly.

“You fucking sick or something? You want me to listen to your girlfriend getting fucked by your friend?” Jun is completely disgusted as he sits in the armchair but there’s no mistaking the flush in his face as he listens to your cute, choked up voice.

“Feeling good songbird? Yeah? You love this, right?” Keigo is heard grunting along with the creak of the bed frame.

God you’re as pretty as you sound. “Nngh! S’amazing… Kei’s cock s’good!”

Touya loves to hear this, whether he’s just listening or he’s joining in. 

“You can watch too. Here, set up just for you.” Touya props his phone up against a decorative vase you purchased for Keigo’s apartment, “Since you were such a pervert listening to us fuck that one time. She told me that you were into listening and watching other people so thank me for being so kind. Thank me for letting you get another look at your ex-girlfriend get fucked pretty.”

Jun frowns at the distaste of the situation, his hand clenching into a fist as he hears you just in the other room and his eyes watch through the video call on Touya’s phone. “You’re a sick asshole, you know that?

Touya gestures to the phone and puts on an insincere smile, “I’ll have you know that I’m rather kind and generous.” Your voice parallels everything happening in the video call. Jun is forced to watch you on screen just in the room over, Keigo making himself comfortable on the bed as you’re set on his lap and move your hips to ride him. Touya watches rather fondly as he sees Keigo’s hands smooth to your cute ass, spanking you hard first that elicits a yelp from you before he spreads your cheeks. “Fucking look, you miss that right?”

“Dabi, this is some petty shit from you.”

He doesn’t fucking care; he just wants to humiliate Jun. if Jun walks away then that means he and his friends don’t get the shit they wanted.

“Fuuuck, Kei! I’m cumming—fucking cumming!” you’re heard from the bedroom and you’re seen through the phone getting on the flats of your feet onto the bed to bounce up and down on Keigo’s dick. The smacking of skin can be heard clearly and Touya just looks so giddy as he watches his two favorite people get lost in one another. He knows that Keigo is making a show of it like he told him to, he knows it in the way you’re getting choked and how harsh you’re getting spanked with a loud smack. “Keigo!”

It’d be nice to join but Touya places a priority of humiliating Jun first.

“I can sweeten the pot. You stay until he cums in her, I’ll throw in a gram of snow.” Touya offers as he pulls a measured baggy from his wallet. Truthfully it’s the gram he’s supposed to give to you later on but he’s just having too much fun with this. “Don’t let your friends down now, right? I saw the way they were all bugging down on you. Sucks to be friends with people who choose drugs over your well-being, huh? S’okay, you can admit if this isn’t worth it. You can keep your dignity and walk away. I’ve done worse to you.”

But he knows that Jun won’t walk away because that fucker wants his shit and he can’t be the reason why his friends lost out on a good plug. And even if he went around looking for another, he could just tell Shigaraki to be on the lookout and inform anyone else that deals within this area and nearby. He could spin a story and get him killed by his own young boss if he wanted.

Touya won’t go that far though.

It pisses him off but you’d probably be sad if Jun were to die; you were still soft like that even though you should hate your ex-boyfriend for hurting you.

“… How much longer would that be?” Jun asks quietly, his foot tapping impatiently and a shameful erection being hidden beneath his folded hands in his lap.

Glancing down to his phone, Keigo has put you on all fours and presses your head to the mattress. He recognizes the excited laugh you let out but it’s cut short when Keigo fucks hard and fast behind you. Touya just knows you’re creaming on his dick and he can’t wait to get in afterwards. There’s just something about sliding into you and have you still dripping wet with Keigo’s cum in you that turns him on so damn much. The first time it ever happened, he had almost cum embarrassingly fast when he discovered how much he liked it.

He watches Keigo put in the work, shaking his bangs out of his face as the hairs stick to his forehead from sweat before throwing his head back. Touya hears how desperate you and Keigo are becoming. Your sweet pleas and the nasty curses of fucking slut and stupid bitch coming from Keigo gets him just a little too excited.

Touya just wants to go in there and help press your head deeper into the mattress to hear you whine more and make Keigo loll his tongue out so that he can spit in his mouth.

He wants a nasty fuck now.

Keigo’s vocal as he snaps his hips hard into you, almost whining alongside you too as he shoots his load into your cunt and oh—Touya is for sure going to get filthy in there. Just right after he sends Jun out. He ends the video call on his phone before Jun sees anything too intimate and vulnerable. But just as promised he tosses the all the party favors into his lap and tells him to get the fuck out, “Take your shoes and put them on outside. And remember how kind I was to you after everything that’s gone down between us.”

Jun leaves quietly and with his tail tucked between his legs and Touya’s sure to audibly close the front door that’s heard by you. “Touya? Are you back?” you call out, slightly breathless and whining as Keigo shallowly thrusts into your pussy before pulling out completely. You roll to your back and crook a finger to Touya when opens the bedroom door to make his appearance. “C’mere…”

“I’m here doll, I’m here.” he croons as he starts to undress. Everything drops to the floor with an audible thump and he hears your happy little sigh as he approaches. He caresses his hand against your cheek but leans in to kiss Keigo hard on the mouth, groaning lowly before pulling back and hissing out a satisfied cursed. “Did Kei treat you good?” he asks he starts to get in position between your legs.

“Always.” you answer with a happy smile before letting out a small gasp when the back of Touya’s hands roughly grasp the back of your knees and push them towards you.

Keigo leans back against his pillow to catch his breath. He flashes a little smile and sends him a wink, keeping another secret between the two of them and your pretty little self is blissed out of your mind and unknowing of the presence of your ex-boyfriend in a personal space not too long ago.

[just-my-type-x]

Tell Me How You Really Feel

Based on Would You by The Vamps

@bronwiebear-brad got u ♥️

"Can you, please, tell me what's wrong with you?", Brad asks me and i take a gulp of my cocktail, trying to ignore his question. "We can't spend the rest of our holiday like this", he sighs and picks up his towel, heading back to the hotel, leaving me on the beach. I sigh and try to take in the beauty of my view, but it angers me more than it relaxes me. I finish my drink, pick up the rest of the stuff and get inside too.

"Bradley", i close the door behind me and he turns around when he hears me, coming back from the balcony. "Why are we on holiday?", i walk past him towards the balcony to put my towel up to dry in the wind. I know he's standing behind me with his arms crossed at his chest, frowned, almost tapping his foot nervously on the floor.

"Trying to save what's left of us?", he answers with an angry tone, which i do not blame him for. "Tell me how you really feel about us, y/n. Because I'm really curious how much you actually want us together anymore.", he sits on the end of the bed, watching me carefully, his teary eyes analysing my face features. I stand in front of him, looking down in his direction, but ditching eye contact.

"How can you be curious of something like that, Bradley?", i scoff and turn my back to him, only to face him again when he starts to speak.

"You don't even call me love, babe, at least tell me to fuck off and i would!", he gets up and comes closer to me, but not as close as a boyfriend. We feel like strangers, act like them and soon, we will be strangers. "If i walked out that fucking door right now, would you even follow me? Would you even miss me or realise that we're done, we're over?", a tear almost falls off his cheek, but he's quick to run his hands over his face. I stay silent for a few seconds, too many, in fact. Brad scoffs and walks to the closet to take his clothes out.

"What are you doing?", i ask, uneasy

"I'm leaving. The trip is paid, you can take the rest of the days to make up your mind. I'll br in Birmingham waiting for your decision", he angrily tosses the clothes on the bed and i catch his arm, turning him to face me.

"Hey, stop. This is not who we are", i raise my voice and he raises his eyebrows.

"You decided this is us, y/n! I seem to not interest you anymore and let's be honest here, you haven't showed one gram of affection towards me ever since i came back from tour. I thought this vacation will be good for us, to get romantic again, but you're colder and colder by the day. Don't go wasting my time when you don't want yours to be wasted either", he takes off his beach shorts and gets dressed quickly in denim shorts and a loose shirt, closing up his suitcase. We fight, i pull him by the arm to stay with me, but i let him go soon after ny first try.

"Have a nice flight, Brad"

"Oh, so it's Brad now. I'll have the best one away from you.", he pushes the suitcase out of the room. "Take care", his voice breaks when closing the door behind him.

🥀🥀🥀

A month later I'm invited to James' birthday party, which i go to feeling like an imposter. I greet everyone and hug my closest friends, making small talk and earning a few apologetical statements from some of them about Brad and i's break up. I look down, trying to dodge eye contact, because lately i realised that the break up was not needed and i was just in a bad place, not being able to provide the relationship what was needed.

I see James and walk over to him, handing him his gift and tightly hugging him, ending up in a long conversation, that felt like hours, not briefly 10 minutes. Kirstie joins us soon after we finish talking about their wedding anniversary vacation.

"I think someone here wants to have some alone time with you", James takes a sip of scotch and points somewhere behind me and i see Brad ignoring a conversation, while he's looking straight in my eyes when i turn around. I excuse myself from James and Kirstie and walk towards him.

He takes me by my hand and walks me out of the big living room and we go right outside the house, in the small garden. I feel my whole body tense, wishing his hand was still in mine.

"I'm sorry", i burst out and Brad laughs

"I've played gamed enough to see through a lie", he takes a sip of gin and looks away from me

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Are you really sorry? You didn't bother to let me know you're still alive when you got home. I had to call your parents"

"I know", i whisper and look away from him

"You kno-, you know. Wow", he scoffs again and empties his glass, throwing it away from us, breaking somewhere on the pavement. "Did you talk to them about us?"

"i did, yeah. And i really meant it that I'm sorry", i lean on the wall on my back, looking straight ahead

"And what did you tell them? That we're holiday-ing in different parts of the world?", Brad lets out a small laugh and i know the joke was meant to break the tension. "Did your face light up the way it used to?", i look at him and a sad smile is on his face, watching me closely. He comes next to me and lays on the wall like me.

"No, i told them I fucked up. I couldn't lie to them, i was a wreck. I'm an asshole for not talking to you anymore, but i didn't deserve you or your answers. I'm sorry i wasn't able to bring what you needed into our relationship, the last months have been so hard for me. I guess i let distance break us apart and i didn’t even try to get you back ", my voice breaks and Brad is quick to hug me tight at his chest, the way he always used to when i was sad.

"We don't deserve each other from many points of view, but I'm down to try and change that. If you want that too", he kisses the top of my head and the last part is whispered, like he was too scared to find out my choice.

"I want that. I'm not ready to give you up, i swear", we hug one more time and we get inside the house, hand in hand, offering each other quick, cheeky smiles every now and then.