#hey remember when i said i needed to write some freaky stuff for my health <3 here we go

[cobwebbedcat]

Nothing That a Little Gatorade and Expired Aspirin Can't Fix

MINORS DNI

warnings: soft dom top amab gender neutral reader, sub bottom trans male sick! Vincent Sinclair, emetophilia, piss, dirty talking, Vincent is mute, just a hint of odontophilia

Terms used for vincent: cunt, pussy, clit, dick, t-dick

There are not many things that will get you out of your bed and home past midnight, but two texts coming from Bo have you wiping sleep from your eyes and pulling on whatever clothes are closest to you.  

After reading Vincent threw up. Then: Asking for you. Bring meds, you text back a quick omw! Before rushing to the 24/7 CVS and making the drive to the Sinclair’s house, which is of course, obnoxiously far away from Ambrose, in the middle of buttfuck nowhere.  

When you enter the Sinclair house, forgoing knocking or announcing yourself considering they’re expecting you, you find Bo in the kitchen halfway through a cigarette and staring at a bottle of Aspirin.  

“Expired two years ago,” he grumbles, still staring at the bottle, refusing to look at you.  

“That’s fine, brought some stuff,” Bo finally looks up when you raise the two bags full of things for Vincent for him to see. It doesn’t show much on his face, but even in the dim light you can see the tension release from his shoulders.  

“Good. Better go see him then,” he huffs, tossing the bottle of expired Aspirin in the trash. You take that as your cue to leave, and hustle down to Vincent’s room.  

He’s curled up in a fetal position on his bed, trying to make himself as small as possible. You gently place your bags at his bedside, and sit on the edge of the bed, running your fingers through his long hair to let him know you’re here. 

Vincent lets out a soft whine and reaches out to hold onto you, looking up at you from behind his mask.  

“Bo said you threw up,” you say softly. Vincent cringes, then nods. “Think you could sit up for me? I brought some stuff for you,” he uncurls himself, and with your help, he props himself up against a mountain of pillows.  

“Should probably take off your mask,” you hum, wondering how and why he’s even wearing it right now. Vincent huffs, but when you give him a stern look, he crumbles, and takes it off. 

With his face revealed to you, you can see how flushed he is. Gently, you place the back of your hand against his forehead. He nearly flinches away from you, but once your skin touches his he leans into you, starved for your touch. He’s not worryingly hot, but definitely has a fever.  

“Poor thing,” you coo, reaching into your bags and getting him medicated. You brought Gatorade as well, and make him drink as much as he can manage (which isn’t a lot before he gags).  

“Alright, well the meds are going to take a bit before they start making you feel much better. Is there something I could do to help?”  

Vincent stares at you for so long you wonder if he heard you. Just when you’re about to repeat yourself, he looks away from you and signs 

“Lay down with me?” And oh, isn’t that sweet. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face.  

“Of course, darling,” you lift the blankets and slide into bed next to him. Vincent slowly inches towards you until he’s nestled against your body, humming softly and inhaling your scent. You brush your fingers through his hair until his breathing evens out and he falls asleep.  

You’re brought out of slumber for a second time during the night to the sound of Vincent getting sick in the bathroom.  

Dragging yourself out of the comfort of his bed you make your way to him. He’s crouched over the toilet, catching his breath from the work his body is putting him through. He whimpers softly when you sit yourself next to him, and tenderly move his hair from his face and gather it into a ponytail.  

You kiss the back of his neck which is now exposed, and Vincent groans as he lazily lifts a hand up to fingerspell, 

“Leave.” 

“Absolutely not, sweetheart,” you muse softly, bringing the hand that’s not holding his hair back to rub comforting circles into his stomach, “couldn’t possibly go when you're in such a state,” you decide not to add how you think he looks cute like this, all helpless. Vincent is either too tired or too sick to protest more. Even if he wanted to, another wave of nausea hits him, and he’s puking again.  

You can feel the way his stomach clenches and pulses under your touch. He’s sick for a while, working up a sweat as he empties his stomach over and over again. Softly you whisper praise and apologies, sorry for the discomfort and pain he’s going through, even if it does make you a bit flustered.  

As soon as he’s done, you’re kissing him all over, gentle pecks which remind him that you’re here and you’ve got him. Vincent slumps into your hold, his hands coming up to cover his face. You know he appreciates you being there, even if he’s somewhat embarrassed.  

You hold him close, kissing him, and gently rubbing at his stomach until Vincent rises on shaky legs. You follow his lead, and once you’re on your feet he leans his body weight on you in front of the sink, letting you get his toothbrush ready for him.  

When it comes to brushing his teeth, ridding his mouth of any leftover bile, Vincent doesn’t take the brush from you, rather he closes his eyes and opens his mouth.

Cooing you take his face into one of your hands and brush his teeth for him. You’re especially gentle with him, taking care not to activate his gag reflex. He moans as the soft bristles brush their way across each tooth and along his tongue. He’d normally never let you baby him so much. You’re eating up how easily he submits to your coddling.  

“Sorry, I was gross,” Vincent signs as soon as he lifts his head from spitting into the sink. You hold back a laugh; it’s funny that he’s more embarrassed by puking in front of you than admitting the heinous and cruel murders he’s committed.  

“You were never gross,” you assure him, cupping his scarred face and bringing him into a sweet kiss now that his mouth is clean. You wrap an arm around his waist, “back to bed?” he lets out an affirmative hum and lets himself be led by you.  

“Think you could eat a little something before you fall back asleep?” he doesn’t seem all that tired anyways, and despite the grimace he makes at the prospect of eating, Vincent nods all the same.  

From the bags you’d brought with you, you pull some inoffensive snacks, and more Gatorade. Vincent does the best he can before grimacing and pushing the food away. Pleased that he was able to stomach anything at all, you make him take another dose of medication before laying down again. 

“I am hot,” he complains as he snuggles up under the covers with you. You bring the back of your hand to his forehead and Vincent’s eyelashes flutter shut.  

“You are hot,” you hum, “I think your fever’s back. The meds should kick in again soon,” you state, attempting to be reassuring. Vincent sighs and goes so still and so quiet that you think he’s maybe fallen asleep. 

“Hot here,” he finally signs clumsily, avoiding eye contact as he takes your hand and brings it to his clothed crotch.  

“Oh?” You can’t tell if the flush on Vincent’s cheeks is from fever or fluster, but it makes him look adorable all the same. “I can help out with that,” you purr, feeling desire stir in you as he lets out the softest moan and nods.  

“You’ve been so cute tonight,” you hum, pulling the blankets back and stationing a leg over either side of him, caging him in, as you rub your thumb on his clit through his sleep pants.

Vincent whines, turning the scarred half of his face to hide it in the pillow. “I mean it, letting me take care of you, and being so helpless makes you really cute,” you hum. His thighs clench around your hand, and he jerks his hips, wanting more. 

You’ll give him more when he asks for it, but for the moment you lean in and kiss him as you tease him through his pants.  

Vincent loves your kisses, moaning softly when he feels your tongue lick against his lips. He opens his mouth easily for you, desperate to deepen the kiss. You lick deep into his mouth, forgetting how sensitive he is right now.  

He pushes you away quick, turning to dry heave and gag. He swallows, and the two of you wait a moment, adrenaline coursing through you as you wait to see if he’ll be sick or not. The nausea seems to pass because he wraps his arms around your neck and pulls you into another kiss, grinding his cunt into your hand.  

You deepen the kiss once again, this time being careful of just how deep you tongue fuck his mouth, instead sucking on his lip, and letting his tongue into your mouth.

Vincent continues to weakly hump your hand, sighing and moaning at the feeling of your finger circling his clit. It’s not long before you can feel a hot, damp wetness on the outside of his pants. Your cock aches imagining how wet he is.

Finally, Vincent pushes you back to sign “please,” looking up at you with pleading eyes.   

Pulling away, you’re quick to help him out of his pants, revealing his glistening wet pussy to your hungry eyes.  

“Let me eat you out?” you ask, using two fingers to spread his lips apart and look at his hole.  

Vincent makes a strangled noise and nods his head quickly. He regrets that immediately, bringing a hand to his head at the ache that comes from the action. You laugh softly, rubbing gentle circles into his thighs,  

“Careful with yourself baby, you’re not feeling well,” you remind him as you make yourself comfortable between his legs. You kiss his hip bone, then kiss along his skin until your lips reach his erect clit. Vincent sighs and melts into the bed, weakly wrapping his legs around your head, and pushing you further against his pussy.  

You both moan as you take Vincent into your mouth, circling around his t-dick with your tongue, then sucking gently. Bringing your fingers to his wet hole, you gently press two fingers inside of him. He’s hot and practically gushing self-lubricant, opening easily for you. You suck his dick for a minute longer, then move onto the main event.  

Sliding your fingers out of Vincent, you quickly replace them with your tongue, and groan at the taste of him. He makes sweet little sounds as you curl your tongue, pressing it as deep as possible into his hole. His thighs tremble and clench around your head, his hands holding weakly onto your head, pushing you further into his cunt. 

You pull back to return to his clit, sucking hard then swirling your tongue around it. Vincent gasps, his thighs shaking and twitching. You look up at him, and one of his hands has left your head to try and finger-spell something to you. Whatever he’s saying is incomprehensible to you, because the letters get scrambled and lost as his head gets more and more muddled with lust. 

While still looking up at him, you pull of his clit and return to burying your tongue inside of him. Vincent’s hole clenches around you, and then he's shaking his head and mouthing something to you. You figure he must be close to cumming, and double down on your efforts. His breathing hitches and quickens, and then a hot liquid spurts from his cunt and into your mouth.  

Vincent’s not a squirter, and the two of you know that. You open your mouth further as you realize that Vincent is pissing into your mouth. You can hear him whining and squeaking noises of objection, yet his legs tighten around you, keeping you closer. 

You’ll apologize to him later for making him drink all that Gatorade, but for now you moan and slurp hungrily at his cunt as you drink down his piss. Your cock throbs in your pants, and if you weren’t leaking pre before, you are now.  

Even after his stream dies down you lick and lave your tongue along his cunt, making sure he’s all clean, and that you haven’t missed a drop.  

“Sorry,” Vincent signs.  

“Don’t start with that,” you groan, pulling away from his pussy (despite wanting to back in for another bite, so to speak), your voice rough and deep with want, “that was so fucking hot.” He covers his face with his hands, but you can still see him grinning underneath them. 

“Can I fuck you, darling?” you ask, bordering on pleading. Vincent nods, still hiding behind his hands.  

With his permission, you fumble for the lube on his bedside table, nearly vibrating with excitement and arousal. “God, can’t wait to fuck your dirty pussy,” you mutter to yourself, slicking your cock up with lube. “Letting me stick my cock in your piss and spit slicked cunt, christ,” Vincent whines softly at that, tugging on his own hair to find something to occupy his hands.  

“You good on your back?” you ask, knowing that he loves getting fucked on his hands and knees more than anything. Vincent nods, likely far too tired to hold himself up. Even if he prefers doggystyle, you like having him like this, being able to see and hear every reaction he has to your cock stirring up his insides.  

“Perfect,” you purr, holding onto his hips as you press your cockhead against his hole. Vincent hiccups, reaching up to wrap his arms around your neck. Shyly he pulls your head towards his, leaning up and trying to capture your lips in a kiss.  

“Sure you wanna kiss me, baby?” you tease, pressing yourself into him. He whines and you continue, “gonna taste your own piss—hah— on my mouth.” Vincent squeezes around your cock at your words, his mouth dropping open.  

“Please,” he brings a hand down to sign. Always being one to spoil your lover rotten, you lean down and kiss him deeply. Vincent moans, and you can’t tell if it’s because of you pressing yourself further into him, or because he can taste himself in your mouth.  

He’s nice and relaxed around you, opening up so sweetly for your cock. You wonder if he’d been tighter if you’d fucked him before eating him out, if he would have squeezed tighter around you as he tried to stop himself from pissing all over your cock.  

“Fuck,” you sigh, bottoming out inside of him. He’s as hot and flushed inside as his skin is, burning up around your length. You know you shouldn't be happy that he's got a fever, but it feels so fucking good.

Vincent lets out an appreciative sigh, his lashes fluttering shut. “Feelin’ good?” in your haze of lust you’d nearly forgotten how sick he is right now. Vincent nods lazily, but he’s sweating, his long hair sticking to his body. You hum, feeling his forehead again.  

“Oh sweetheart, you’re overheating,” you muse, hoping he’s really feeling alright. Vincent whines,  

“Good, good, more,” he signs in a rush, pulling you back in for another kiss.  

Despite him telling you he’s alright, you fuck him nice and slow, being so tender and fragile with him. You rub circles into his hips as you drag your hips back and forth. Your kisses match the pace, as filthy as ever, but slow and drawn out. You’re in no rush, and you will savor him.  

Vincent accepts the sweet treatment for longer than you’d anticipated, if you’re honest. It doesn’t surprise you when he finally pushes you back to frown at you, cutely demanding "more," his hands sharp and determined as they sign.  

“Just let me know if it’s too much,” you remind him, picking up the pace ever so slightly. The slightest shift has him slightly arching his back off the bed, gasping softly as your cock hits drags along his insides, going deeper and fucking him faster than before. Refusing to get carried away, you keep the pace consistent, even if all you want to do is pound him into the mattress.  

“Once you’re all better I’m gonna ruin you,” you promise. Vincent moans at that, nodding and twitching around you. You bring a hand down to circle your thumb around his clit. He clenches like a vice, letting out a spurt of piss, and wetting your cock.  

“Fuck baby,” you moan, feeling your orgasm quickly approaching.  

“More, say more,” Vincent signs. It takes you a second to remember what you were talking about.  

“Oh, sweetheart, once you’re all better I’ll make your pussy a mess. Fuck, want that? I'll fill your fucking tummy with my cum, make you eat any that drips out of your pussy. Want me cumming in you, dropping load after load into you?" you don’t wait for a response, the words tumbling uncontrollably out of your mouth now that he’s got you started.

“Want you to piss all over my cock, let me do the same to you, hah, I’ll cover you in my piss, from here,” you bring a hand from his hips to touch his collarbone, peaking out from under his shirt, “down to here,” you quickly move that same hand down to circle his clit. Vincent spasms around you, “shit, I’ll fill you up with it, let it mix with my cum. Hah I know you want that, want to be covered in my piss, to be messy with me, don’t you darling?” 

This time you wait for a response, slowing the movement of your hips, rubbing agonizingly slow circles on his sensitive clit until Vincent nods his head, moving his hips back clumsily against yours. You reward him, speeding up your pace once again.  

“Good boy,” you groan, “gonna cum soon, y’close baby?”  

Vincent doesn’t answer verbally or with his hands, he just lets out a broken keen, and tugs you close as he cums around your cock. You fuck him through it, jackhammering your hips into him, working him over the edge and through the waves of pleasure that coarse through his body.  

You’re so close, but you hold off until he whimpers softly, letting you know he needs you out of him. You pull out, and your hand flies to your cock, jerking yourself off roughly.  

“Fuck, fuck baby, gonna cum all over your cunt, make it mine,” you groan, burying your head in the crook of his shoulder, nuzzling your way through his long black locks until your teeth graze against Vincent’s neck. When your balls finally tighten and your orgasm crescendos, you paint his pussy white, and suck a hickey into his neck.  

Vincent hums, looking down at the mess you’ve made with indifference. You know he prefers it when you cum inside, but it would have been much more messy and time consuming if you had. You may have really wanted to go in and eat him out again, and Vincent is well past his limit.  

“Lets get you cleaned up, huh?” you hum once your limbs stop feeling like jello.  

He's much too tired now to be anything but dead weight. There’s no shame nor shyness found as you carry Vincent into the bathroom and lay him down in the bathtub. He lazily signs your name again and again, meditatively going through the motions as the water rises and submerges his body.  

“Thank you,” he signs as you join him in the bath. 

“Love you,” is your response, largely muffled as you sleepily lean your head on his shoulder.  

He hums softly, and your eyes have drifted shut, so you don’t see him tell you that he loves you back, but you already know he does.  

Taglist: @dead-end-stuff

[a-little-dreamer-s-world]

My Dear Brother

Hey guys! Sorry for being AWOL with my writing for a while. My mental health hasn’t been the best lately :( However! I did watch the new episode! And I had an idea for a story! This is going to be in the same vein as another story of mine Are We Cool? so I hope y’all enjoy!

@sympathetic-deceit-trash @fangirltothefullest @bluebloodstains @randomslasher  I figured you guys might like to read this maybe??

Warnings!: Possible spoilers for the newest Sanders Sides episode, sympathetic Remus, sympathetic Deceit/Janus, sexual innuendos, gore mentions, odd body movements.

The motion of a brush on a canvas had always been calming to Roman. The sudden appearance of color on a plain white surface gave him a small thrill that couldn’t really be beat, other than being on stage with hundreds watching him. But in any case, the thrill that was usually there was absent now, the burning anger replacing that feeling altogether. It increased tenfold when fingers suddenly appeared at the top of his painting, crazed eyes looking down at him with a Cheshire cat grin following it. 

“Remus, get off,” he grumbled, watching the other man laugh as he let go, the blue sky of his painting having strips of paint lifted up from where Remus’s fingers have been. The other side plopped down on Roman’s bed behind him, licking his fingers of where the paint imprinted on his skin.

“Well, dear brother, you’re in quite a mood,” Remus said, crossing his legs and putting his elbows on his knee, his chin resting on his palm as he gave the man a fake pout. “What, not happy to see me?”

“As if I’m ever happy to see you,” Roman turned in his stool to face his brother, crossing his arms with the paintbrush still in hand, glaring at him.

“Aw, Roman,” Remus cooed out, reaching like he was going to pinch the other brother’s cheek. He just grinned when Roman smacked his hand away, waving his own hand from side to side like he touched something slimy.

“Temper, temper,” Remus tsked, mirroring Roman by crossing his arms.

“Look, Remus, as much as you like to pester me into doing one of your messed up ‘adventures’, I’m in no mood to deal with you right now.” Roman turned back around to continue with his painting, flinching back when the scenic picture he had been painting just a moment was replaced with a graphic depiction of a head on the end of a stake staring back at him.

He growled out as he stood up with his brother laughing behind him, tossing the paintbrush to the ground as he pushed the easel over. The image dissipated back into his original painting once it hit the ground, not without creating a tear into the canvas. He let out a dramatic sigh, moving back to flop down on his bed. 

Remus was still there, laying down on his stomach with his legs kicking in the air. His hair was an absolute rat’s nest, but that was nothing new. “My, you are in a mood,” Remus mused as he stared at his brother, who had his eyes closed. “Was today’s video not wanting to focus on poor Roman?”

“That’s not it at all,” Roman said, keeping his eyes closed. “It’s...It’s that snake’s fault! He’s been messing with us for all this time, and then he said that his name was Janice, as if Thomas would believe—”

“Wait a minute, Janus told you his name?” Remus interrupted, his eyes getting impossibly wider as he leaned in closer to him. “Oh, tell me about that~”

“Wait, you knew?” Roman sat up in his bed, looking down at his brother with a frown. It was from this angle he realized that Remus’s morning star was leaning against the wall next to his bed, something he was surprised he hadn’t realize sooner. “I thought he was lying again when he said that his name was Janice?”

“Not Janice, dear brother, Janus,” Remus corrected him, sitting up as well. “Like the god with two faces! Oh, I wonder since he had two faces, would he have two di-”

“Focus, Duke, focus,” Roman said, snapping his fingers in front of the other’s face. His brother blinked a few times, bringing his head forward to snap his teeth right next to the hand before looking at him. “Now, how did you know that’s his name? You weren’t there with us for the video!”

“Ah, but that’s the thing, Princey.” Remus wagged his finger in Roman’s face, that grin shit-eating grin not leaving him. “You might have forgotten, but I’m unfiltered! Nothing gets past me and nothing is held back. I just choose to forget the stuff I think is too boring to remember until I have to bring it up.”

 Roman frowned at him, letting out a huff. “But that’s not the problem! The problem is that he’s evil! He’s done so much to hurt Thomas, and now Thomas thinks that he should be part of the group? That we should forgive him?”

Remus had his head tilted to the side at an unnatural angle, a sight that hadn’t creeped Roman out in a long time. The thing that was freaky about it was the look that the darker side was giving him; he looked thoughtful, like he was taking apart his words to think over what he said. “Brother, dear, let me ask you something.”

“What? Is it going to be about how I want to do something nasty to Deceit? Or make him eat something disgusting you created?” Roman spat out, trying to hide how weirded out he felt.

“No, for once. What I want to ask is simple: Do you see me as evil?”

Roman sputtered a bit, looking at his brother in surprise. He looked for a sign of a lie, a flash of a sharp-toothed grin to show that Remus was pulling his leg. After an awkward silence filled the room where they just stared at each other, he looked away to rub the back of his neck. “Well, no, I don’t think you’re evil...”

Remus looked a bit surprised by the answer, saying, “But aren’t I worse than Janus? I’m ruled by desire; if Thomas didn’t have any self-control or any shame, then I wouldn’t have stayed away from your silly videos until he was too exhausted to keep me at bay.”

“Yeah, but you’re different! You’re...You’re...” He trailed off, trying to think of what he wanted to say.

“I’m not part of the group,” Remus said, looking at him with the closest thing to a serious look that Roman had seen on him in a long time. “And my input isn’t wanted, nor do I think it ever will be,” he added, and Roman could have sworn he saw a flash of sadness in his eyes before it was gone, his grin coming back.  “Roman, I can’t help with whatever sexual tension you two have—”

“It’s not sexual tension, my god, have you been listening?”

“But don’t let it get in the way of what’s true,” Remus ignored him. “Janus is in the forefront of Thomas’s mind now, and there’s nothing to stop that. You’re stuck with him, so you two can either make up and make out, or you can ignore him until your feelings override and you two fu-”

“I’m not letting you finish that,” Roman said sharply, causing his brother to laugh maniacally. Roman huffed as he got off his bed, going back to pick the now dry painting off the floor, waving his hand over where the tear in the canvas. Almost by magic, the tear fixed itself, looking like nothing had happened to it at all.

“Either way, whatever happens, you might want to give a quick look at what you think is ‘evil’.” Remus’s arm was on his shoulder now, though when Roman looked behind him, he could see that Remus was only just then getting off his bed with his arm stretched out to touch him. Once he reached him, Remus looked at Roman with a raised brow and finished, “Because if you don’t think I’M evil, then you might need to really think about what evil is to you.”

Roman blinked a couple of times before he slowly nodded, a tired little smile coming to him. “I...I’ll think about it.”

“Good... now, would you like to follow me to that juicy tunnel that I found that I’ve been calling the Glory Ho-”

“Get out of here, Dukey,” Roman snorted out, pushing away a giggling Remus who was finally going to his bedroom door. Just before he left, he turned to look at Roman and said, “Oh, and one last thing.”

The creative side glanced back at his darker brother, who simply pointed in his direction. “I fixed your painting!” 

“What? No you did- AH!” He had turned to see what he meant when he saw a sight worse than the one that Remus had made appear earlier: it was painting of a naked Aunt Patty.

“Why?! Why would you do that?” Roman cried out as he covered his eyes, and even though he couldn’t see him, he could practically hear the grin spreading on his face. 

“It’s the one thing you can’t unsee!” he cackled before he pranced out, his morning star picking itself up to follow him out. 

Roman cautiously looked past his fingers, seeing that his painting was back to normal. He let out a weary sigh as he picked his paintbrush off the floor, the brush primed with the shade of blue he needed to fix the sky that Remus had messed up. When he finished, he took a step back to examine his work.

The picture was of him, Logan, Patton, Virgil, and Thomas, all laying on a hill while cloud gazing. He examined the painting for a few minutes, nodding slowly before he went back to painting, his singular paintbrush changing colors to the one he needed at the moment.

The next time he stopped was when he was called down by Patton to eat dinner, leaving it behind. He would find out that night that Patton was briefly stopped by Remus to ask about him, and had gone to check on him instead. He would also De- Janus come in at some point, making himself a plate before leaving with it and only giving the four sides a nod. And he’d have to help Logan and Patton calm Virgil down from getting up to possibly deck him, much to the other two’s surprise.

And then there was Remus, who had snuck back into brother’s room with a rare soft smile on his lips, looking at a painting of all of them on a hill to watch the clouds go by, with him right there in between Janus and Roman.

[an-american-teen-against-crime]

SPY: blogging as I go pt. 2

heard it here folks, Joe is “an extremely proficient tactician” 

lol Frank only gets “strong connection to Kestrel” 

I wonder which graphic design artist revenant hired to make their fancy logo

the colony operation was just a trial run. Revenant wants to find a way to “regime change” without a military. That would be super freaky because it would completely change the way wars were fought. 

who writes these files wow it’s like they grab a dictionary every single time

OKAY WOWWWW when they said non-lethal I thought they meant not kill anyone which makes no sense because then why would people be worried but then it says casualties are okay as long as there isn’t too many

I remember that the formula would affect the really young and the really old, along with those who weren’t stable health wise which is. so similar to now whaaaaat

they also wanted an off switch so that new problems would come up and people wouldn’t develop a “herd immunity” because if that happened they wouldn’t be able to use it again . whAT

yo. they PLANNED THIS OUT

Nancy’s file says “she is not a professional. Do not expect professional decision making skills.” lol get roasted Nance

seriously tho maybe that’s good sometimes tho

Based off of the updates in her file, Revenant tried to get to Nancy before SAW. 

also this means that what started it up again was Nancy coming to Scotland. yikes

because of SAW they realized she’d do just about anything to get information on her mom 

THIS GAME IS SO FREAKING GOOD

so I don’t think I’ve ever found Michael’s file?!?! Did not know he was an agent and that he DIED DURING MOIRA’S MISSION WTH

Also there’s a file on Hannah that I never found before

 According to Ewan (which this is true in his case) cathedral believes that Revenant is people that work in secret service. That makes so much sense but also makes this seem even scarier

 so if I understand this correctly let’s just say Colony happened, and then they’d come in and be like we can help ! and then be like for now, we should be in change to bad huh :( and then NEVER GIVE CONTROL BACK TO EM

ohhhhh. Now I know why it’s called Colony. “a country or area under the full or partial political control of another country, typically a distant one, and occupied by settlers from that country”. 

also. this may or may not be referencing the colonists who came to America, spread their diseases to native tribes severely debilitating them and then taking control bit by bit of the country (colonists becoming the colonizers) 

oop sorry was that being to political

the structure of this game’s plot is so weird but I kinda dig it 

because essentially. Nancy tracking down information about her Mom and what’s causing this may lead to catching Ewan, but it also helps put Ewan’s plan into motion O.o

I actually really do like talking talking to Ewan. He really has good insight for obvious reasons on what’s going on plus I love a good Scottish accent

he says Revenant wants to rewrite society . Which I get but they’d probably do a crap job, and no matter how you rewrite social structures it’s always going to be flawed, and one group is always going to be hurt by another. 

which is depressing, but that’s why you’ve gotta do your little part to be a better person and not give into society ! *trumpet music*

I seriously don’t get Ewan’s motivation tho

love how Zoe insults Nancy even as Bridget loool (well, not a very GOOD spy)

Revenant: go cut the trash compactor 

Me: *goes and eats haggis and makes a heck ton of cookies*

stuff from Nancy’s notes:

“as much as I love reading Mom’s emails... I guess it’s selfish, but I wish she would have been writing about me or Dad.”

“My code name is Kestrel! Cool.”

she wonders why there were so few people involved in the colony operation, and that she only is seeing the “tip of the iceberg”

Nancy is worried they are using her...sorry hon they are

“seeing bagpipes” is fun to nancy lol

HOW HAVE I NEVER GOTTEN THIS CONVO WITH CARSON

NANCY WONDERS IF SHE LEFT BECAUSE OF HER NANCY NOOOOOOOOOO D’:

all this talk about a long-term plan makes me think HeR was DEF planning to have a sequel to this game

I ship Nedcy for this game only 

but then I think about how Frank would act in these times....Imagine if she asked the boys to break into her house lolllllll

okay but this game is so freaky and you don’t know who to trust having Ned around is actually really nice

hey. So do you think Cathedral kidnapped Moira? 

Im sorry but Ned and Nancy’s whole convo about Bridget just makes it sound like Nancy doesn’t realize Bridget is hitting on her

“I don’t know.” “me either.” I CANNOT EXPLAIN TO YOU HOW MUCH IT MEANS TO ME THAT NED DOESNT PRETEND TO KNOW WHAT TO DO

sooooo what’s up with the weird fonts on the note in Alec’s seat loool

ha. I remember my mind being BLOWN by the change in Bridget’s voice the first time

Ned knows he can’t stop Nancy so he’ll do what he can to help

“She called me because she knows my faith in her is stronger than my fear for her”

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

“sure thing Mr. Drew. Sorry I burgled your house.”

I REALLY wanna know how Carson caught him looool

the reason Ewan doesn’t find anything on Alec or Zoe is not because he’s dumb but because he’s lying

Penny saw them AR glasses of Zoe’s and had an idea

Ewan: “you may want to ease up on the stealing.”

Dude. We’ve been trying to tell her this for YEARS. It’s a problem

hey at least Zoe cares enough to tell you

I bet Nancy feels a lot like Harry Potter rn

so I never got the convo with Zoe and Nancy where Nancy wants to help and shes like nO

basically Zoe says “Two reasons I work in the field- one, I work alone. two, no one would miss me if I would go off the grid. That’s not the same for you”

I mean one that is true but it makes me sad about Zoe :((((((

so this may be a similar problem to Nedcy, but what about Ned and Zoe O.o

I also saw some people shipping Joe and Zoe

send me your Zoe ships I am here for them

HA zoe just called Nancy a tool

Okay I’m stopping for now cuz I have a headache haha. I need blue light glasses

Plus my computer needs charged so 

[tisfan]

Title: From Russia with Purrs Square: A3 - FREE SQUARE Warning: no animals were actually harmed in the writing of this fic Rating: Gen Pairing: Peter Parker & Ned Leeds / background Bucky/Tony Summary: Spider-Man doesn’t always get called in to help with the Avengers stuff, but when Peter is given a special, urgent mission from the Winter Soldier, he needs to call in backup Link: A03 Word Count: 2505 For @tonystarkbingo

The spidey-sense was a bitch, really. Bad enough all his senses were cranked up to eleven and a half, but then he was on edge constantly for the first year, or more. Spidey-sense wasn’t common sense. It wasn’t directional. About half the time it wasn’t even useful. Had him ducking spitballs by diving to the floor like there was an lone shooter on school grounds.

Not that Peter didn’t already have a rep for being a bit of a spaz, and at a school for top academics, that was saying a lot. There were many ways to bully people, and shoving them into lockers was only for the most uncreative.

Which did mean, after the first year or so, he got sort of… used to it. The spidey-sense tingling didn’t have him bolting upright out of bed at three in the morning to cling to the ceiling like a terrified bat.

Usually he woke up long enough to blink at his clock, pause a moment to see if whatever it was actually planned to break through his window, and then went back to sleep.

Not this time.

His skin rippled and electric jolts went up and down his spine. Spidey-sense was like licking a nine-volt. Not painful, but impossible to endure for long, and freaky-weird on top of that.

Rap-rap-rap.

Peter rubbed at his eyes. “I swear,” he muttered, pushing himself up from his bed, “if I’m getting danger signals because there’s a pigeon at my window, I’m going to hurt someone.”

(more below the cut)

He reached under his bed and grabbed one of his spare web-slingers. Not one of the fancy things that Mr. Stark had set up for him with five hundred and seventy-six possible combinations, but the regular old one. Because he was tired and he was pretty sure it was a pigeon, but he wasn’t sure, so--

Rap-rap-rap.

Peter was just peeking through the blinds when a hand shoved his window up. A metal hand, with black and gold fingers. A moment later, the blinds shifted aside and there was a man in his bedroom.

A familiar man.

“Hey, aren’t--”

“Hush, kid,” the guy said in a deep, smoky sort of voice. The kind that spies used in meetings with their contacts.

“Aren’t you the Winter Soldier?” Peter hissed, excitable. Better to keep his voice down, though. Aunt May would completely freak out if there was a superhero in his room. Especially one that had been wanted for war crimes.

“Look, kid,” the Winter Soldier said. “Stark told me you could be trusted.”

“Mr. Stark said--” Peter squeaked. “Yeah, I mean, yeah, he… we do missions. Sometimes. Together. We’re a team. Partners. Like that.” He crossed his fingers. “You can trust me, yes sir.”

“Great,” the Winter Soldier said. “I need you to watch this cat for me.”

“What?”

The Winter Soldier reached outside onto the fire escape and brought in a cat carrier. It wasn’t an ordinary, plastic PetsWorld thing, either, but a fancy, modular box. Shiny and sleek and bearing the Stark Industries logo. “This is Alpine,” the Winter Soldier said. “Don’t let anything happen to this cat. I’ll be back in about a week.”

Peter looked into the carrier and saw a pair of blue eyes looking back at him.

“Okay--?”

The Winter Soldier was gone.

At least the multilayered cat carrier had come with supplies.

And the highest high-tech litter box Peter had ever seen, which was not saying a lot, because Peter had never lived in a rental that allowed pets, much less ever had one. Aside from a goldfish he’d won at the fair one time, but that had died within a week, and really, the less said about that, the better.

“You--” He told the cat, pointing at it, “--had better not die in a week.”

The cat came forward to sniff at his finger, and then brushed her head under his hand.

The Stark-Box came with a very fine layer of particles -- like crystals, really, in red and gold, because sure, why not, let the cat poop on the Iron Man colors. That was probably a bet that Mr. Stark had lost, or something. Or a joke that he didn’t want to know about -- and did a quick removal of feces or urine, put it in a little air-tight bag like they were on the International Space Station, as well as performed basic medical analysis on the output and sent a text to Peter’s phone, telling him that Alpine was in perfect health.

“What are you, some kind of spy cat?” He couldn’t imagine Mr. Stark going this far out of his way for a housepet.

There were also several tins of food, packets of a semi-soft food, and some hard kibble. There were feeding instructions and an admonishment to water the cat (that also went directly to his phone and he wondered if there was some sort of bluetooth connection and onboard computer in the Stark Carrier.

There were enrichment activities -- including a miniature of Cap’s shield that zoomed around the room under its own power and Alpine chased it a few times before batting it into Peter’s laundry basket where it stayed, buzzing fitfully, until Peter put it away.

A cat brush that Alpine turned her nose up at, and proceeded to attack his hand when he tried to use it. “Well, I went a week last year without brushing my hair-- don’t look at me like that, it was finals -- and it didn’t hurt me, so you’ll probably be okay.”

Alpine turned around and curled into a ball on Peter’s bed and went to sleep.

Which was great until Peter considered the fact that it was now four in the morning, he’d spent the last two hours poking and playing with the Winter Soldier’s cat, and he still had school in the morning.

And the cat… was laying in his bed. In the center of his bed. Where he wanted to sleep.

He poked her a few times. “Get up, that’s my sleeping spot.”

She ignored him.

Peter sighed, considered moving her. She opened one blue eye and gave him a Look.

Psychic cat, maybe?

“Ug, whatever.” He slung a web hammock and climbed in. He’d slept in worse places.

“You look like crap,” Ned said, sliding into the desk next to Peter. “Busy night crime fighting, rescuing stolen bikes? Giving directions? Oh, oh, I know, stopped a mugging?”

“Cat.”

“What?”

“I have a cat,” Peter explained, through a yawn. “The Winter Soldier showed up and left me a cat. A special cat.”

“Like, a lion? Or a radioactive housecat? Do you think if it bit me, I might get powers?”

Peter almost laughed.

Almost.

“I don’t think so?” Peter opened his textbook and turned to the page the teacher required. “I don’t know, he didn’t say much, just that it was important, and--”

“Mr. Parker, is there something you’d like to share with the class, or can I get on with our history lesson?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Peter said. “Go on, it’s fascinating.”

“Sarcasm, dude,” Ned hissed at him.

He waited until the teacher turned away again. “So, come over and help me out?”

“With a cat?”

“Dude, you have pets, I need advice! Help!”

“I have sea monkeys that I ordered from a comic book,” Ned said, with vast patience. “That’s not exactly the same as keeping a mutant cat under control.”

“She’s not a mutant,” Peter said, “at least I don’t think so. I don’t know, maybe she’s housing nano-tech or something. Just come over and help me out, okay?”

“Mutant nanotech cat,” Ned said. “And yet, somehow, this seems like work.”

“You’re the one who wanted to be a hero, pal,” Peter told him.

“Guy in the chair, Peter,” Ned corrected. “Q to your Bond.”

“Why is your room covered in webs?”

“She keeps knocking stuff off the shelves.”

“Really? Like that’s an actual thing, I thought it was just a meme,” Ned said.

“Sure, sit something there-- just on the edge of the desk.”

Ned pulled out his cellphone and put it on the side of Peter’s desk.

“Now come over here, so you don’t scare her,” Peter told him.

And sure enough a few seconds later, Alpine hopped up onto the desk. Sat next to the phone.

And knocked it on the floor.

Alpine was strong, Peter discovered. After pushing over Ned’s phone, a pile of algebra books, the casing for Peter’s old computer, a few dumbell weights that he’d used back before the spider bite and rarely even thought about now…

“This cat can push fifty pounds,” Ned said in awe. “Maybe it’s got the super soldier serum in it!”

Peter scoffed. “I can pick up an eighty-thousand pound cargo truck.” For a few seconds, at any rate, and really, it was more like he caught it. And it had kinda knocked him on his ass. A bit. But Ned didn’t need to know that.

“Well, not everyone can be Spider-Man,” Ned said, philosophically.

“Peter, you need to be -- are you listening to me?”

“Yes, Aunt May, “ Peter said, grabbing a bag of granola from the drawer and emptying into his mouth, chewing like a chipmunk. The worst thing about the whole Spider-Man gig was how he was always freaking hungry, no matter how much he ate. And he knew they couldn’t afford it. MJ had gone on a tear a few months ago about a diet that the goal was SNATT -- slightly nauseated all the time -- to obtain the perfect beach body.

One time his stomach had growled in biology so loudly that the whole class turned to stare, and Peter had said he was doing the kimkins diet. Almost everyone had stopped worrying about it, then, except for MJ, who started bringing him articles about eating disorders.

“--you need to be more careful about leaving your window open. There was a cat in your room.”

Slightly nauseated all the time.

The granola turned into a rock in his stomach. “So--” casually, casually “--where’s the cat now?” And how the heck hadn’t she noticed the cat box and food and litter if Aunt May was in his room?

“Her owner came and got her,” May said, blithely unaware that she was single handedly destroying Peter’s entire existence. “Nice man. Michael-- what did he say his last name was? I don’t remember. He said he saw her in your window, and came over to get her. I said we didn’t have a cat here, he must be mistaken, but when I opened the door to your room, she ran right to him. Says she’s his companion animal -- suffers from a rare blood disorder and she can smell it when he needs to medicate. That’s so smart, you know, having an animal that can do that.”

Morbius.

His aunt was less than six feet away from someone who drank human blood? Peter just about swooned.

“Peter, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I mean, you know, cat. In my room. I should go check and make sure she didn’t leave any presents.”

Aunt May made a fair enough sort of shrug and Peter bolted, leaving the rest of his snack on the kitchen counter. Threw on the spider-suit, stashed the Stark KatCaddy in his closet, and was out the window in a moment.

“Now, aside from a castle, if I was a nasty old vampire with a cat that I wanted for some reason, where would I go?”

Alchemex.

Alpine was, of all crazy things, asleep in Peter’s lap. He’d webbed her twice trying to get her back from Morbius, she’d spent half the day with a crazy vampire, and then she’d taken a trip across the city via the spider-street.

That she was curled up in his lap, absently kneading his thigh and purring little cute snores while she slept was…

“This cat is something else,” Peter said. He scratched between her ears and she opened up one eye to peer at him, then mewed softly and went back to sleep.

“So, like a mutant cat?”

“Well, no,” Peter said. “I’m not sure. Morbius thought she might have been injected with the super soldier serum. He was planning to drain all her blood and analyze it, with the idea of making a cure for himself.”

“A vampire who wants a cure,” Ned said. “Why is he a bad guy again? I mean, if I was a vampire who could go out in the day time, I’d go to high school every day and be cool and broody. Like Twilight.”

“Ned, you do go to high school every day,” Peter pointed out.

“Oh, right, yeah…”

Spidey sense didn’t wake him up.

The knocking on his window did, though.

Peter groaned. “What’s the matter with you? Can’t you just come by during normal daytime hours?” He shoved the window up to let the Winter Soldier in.

“You look tired, kid,” the Winter Soldier said.

“Yeah, well, your super cat’s like super useless,” Peter said. “Three villains, two nights of knocking all my stuff on the floor, one day of puking on my bed, and a partridge in a pear tree. Does she have any abilities, because you should totally train her up some.”

“Villains?”

“Dude, your cat got catnapped -- and not like in the cute, sleeping in my lap way -- four times. Twice by Morbius, who either wants to drink her blood or test it or something.”

The Winter Soldier’s eyebrows went up and his face took on murderous intent.

“Look, I got her back, everything’s cool, you do not have to get Cap to drop another 18-wheeler on me,” Peter said. “Everything’s perfectly fine right now, we’re all fine here, how are you?”

“I’m still stuck on villains,” the Winter Soldier admitted. “What’d you do, take out an ad in th’ papers that you were cat sitting?”

“I don’t know how Morbius knew,” Peter admitted, “but once the Sinister Six saw that Spider-Man was rescuing a cat, they decided the cat had to be important for some reason, I guess.”

“Well, shit, kid,” the Winter Soldier said. “I didn’t think that would happen. I just-- Tony… last minute--”

“You had a mission?”

“I had a vacation,” the Winter Soldier said. “Vacation. I love the sound of that word. Va-caaaay-shun.” The Winter Soldier rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck and --was that a hickey?

“I thought you had healing factor,” Peter said, “so-- who-- I mean, how har-- you know what, don’t answer that. You had a good vacation, that’s all I need to know, it is not my business if Mr. Stark was gnawing on your neck like a starving vampire, we have enough vampires around here, that’s all perfectly normal and fine.”

The Winter Soldier laughed. “Somethin’ like that, kid,” he said. “Sorry about the trouble, though. She wouldn’t have liked a kennel and I jus’ didn’t have anywhere else to take her, to someone I trusted.”

“You know what, Mr. Winter Soldier, sir, any time,” Peter said.

[kingjaffejoffer]

Sometimes its your turn to lose

I would prefer that nobody reblog this.

But this is the internet and I can’t stop yall from doing anything. So whatever. 

Something I’ve said on this blog a dozen times is the fact that I don’t believe in karma. To me, its something silly that people say to make themselves feel better when they take an L. If someone keys your car or busts out your windows and you don’t catch them... you mention karma because it gives you a little bit of power in hopes that the universe is gonna make the culprit pay. 

I don’t believe in karma because niggas like George Zimmerman and Darren Wilson are still walking down the street enjoying their lives, free as a bird even though they murdered Black people in cold blood. I don’t believe in karma because America has been committing atrocities all over the globe for 200 years and nothing has happened in retaliation, 9/11 aside (which is a small price to pay in the grand scheme of things). 

I don’t believe in karma because billions of people on earth can’t read and don’t have access to clean water and shelter. Where’s the justice for them?

That was a longwinded intro to the fact that I just took a massive L. Most people would say karma.... but I think it was just my turn to get got. 

I’ve a terrible boyfriend to most of the women in my life. 

I’m very sweet, charming, attentive, affectionate, and caring. I’ve done all the things women loved. 

Except for the fact that I always cheated. 

We can get into the reasons I cheated another time. That’s a whole 3 chapter post within itself. 

The point is. I cheated a lot, with impunity. I eventually reached the point where I didn’t want to live like that anymore. I matured to a place where I didn’t want to be a liar. I didn’t want to cause anyone any pain. I didn’t want to live a double life anymore. I didn’t want to hurt anyone anymore. 

So I decided that I was going to be single for the rest of my life. And last year, I finally got my wish. I was SINGLE and unapologetically a massive whore. 

It was fucking fantastic. I was single, and every woman I met, I’d let them know that I was fucking with other women and I had no intentions of ever getting into a relationship with them. I let women know from jump street what the deal was and things worked out great. You’d be surprised at what women are down with if you’re just honest and upfront from the start. 

I had a clean std test and was juggling a handful of women at a time, living the good life. 

And then....... I met her. 

She slid in my DMs on Tumblr. She wasn’t thirsty. She didn’t come into my messages with overtly sexual comments and pictures. She just introduced herself, “Hey, how are you doing?”

The conversation between us was effortless. The chemistry was flawless. We went from talking in the Tumblr messages every day. To texting. To snapchatting. 

We’d have conversations that lasted all day. and they were dope and wide ranging. 

If God came down from the heavens above and told me to design the perfect woman I wanted. The final result wouldn’t have been too different from this girl who just dropped in my lap out of nowhere on Tumblr.  We have EVERYTHING in common. 

California native

Her character and values as a woman were beyond what I could ask for. 

She’s extremely well versed in sports. She can hold substantive and meaningful conversations about the specific NBA players. 

We watched MMA and boxing together every Saturday

We both love California gangbang rap. We’d be in the car together listening to YG both lip synching the words. 

She’s well read, knocking out a book every week. 

She’s woke as FUCK. Unapologetically black.

Dark skin, natural hair.

Our views on religion were the same.

She’s college educated. 

She’s fucking beautiful. Thick in all the right places. 

She’s generous. Considerate. health conscious. 

She’s just as freaky as i am. One minute her and I are talking about environmental health and child rearing..... and 3 minutes later she’s on Snapchat taking a long piss for me so I can watch. Telling me she can’t wait until Friday so we can hang out and make love like we did every weekend. 

She came from a really good family. A two parent household. 

It didn’t take long before I was in love with her. 

I spent years wanting to be single. Wanting to be an unapologetic whore. Wanting to have a harem of women that I could call any time to do whatever I wanted.

I had all of that. And I fucking fell in love with this girl. 

And I threw it all away...... one by one. I went to my harem of women, breaking the bad news to them. Telling them that I had a girlfriend and we couldn’t have sex anymore. 

They didn’t react well. The drama that I had to endure just to get rid of all these women is enough to write a 5 chapter post on. That’s another story for another day. The point is..... I went through great lengths to make sure that I didn’t cheat this time. 

I stopped having sex with every woman on the side. I was 100% committed to this new perfect amazing woman that dropped out of the sky and into my life. 

The first time we had sex was explosive. I’ll never forget it.

We’d have long conversations about monogamy and our views on marriage, which were perfectly in sync. Neither one of us believed in marriage. We were receptive to the concept of open relationships, as long as the proper communication and guidelines were put in place beforehand. 

We’d talk about moving in together and having kids one day. I’d ask her all the questions that I felt were important. Did she believe in vaccinating kids? What kind of names did she consider? Did she plan to breast feed? What kind of schools did she like? What would we teach our kid at home?

We talked about all that shit. 

One day, a huge dent was put in the perfect fairytale relationship I had with this woman. 

I found out she was an alcoholic. I found out some other stuff too. She had been hiding it from me since the day she met me. She didn’t want me to judge her. 

I was initially bummed out. But I was so deeply and madly in love with this woman that I was like..... fuck it... no sweat. I’m going to get through this with her. 

We eventually got her enrolled in therapy sessions. As long as she was making progress toward getting better thats all I could ask for. She promised to keep her drinking under control from that day forward. That’s all I needed. 

I felt uncomfortable every time she had a glass of wine, but Rome wasn’t built in a day. Eventually we’d wean her off alcohol completely. I’ve never been in a relationship with a substance abuser/addict before, so excuse my naivite and ignorance. 

She was absolutely worth the extra work. I’ve never in my life met a woman as amazing as she is.

By the way I’ve set this story up. It’s completely obvious the way its going to end right?

Yep.

She got me. 

She played me. 

All these years of me being in control. All these years of me being the liar and the cheater and the one with 85958 women on the side. All these years of me being the one who broke hearts.

It was my turn. She played the shit out of me. 

One night she got black out drunk and I found out all kinds of stuff. I saw all the conversations of her talking to random niggas from the internet. I saw the evidence of her bussing her pussy open for niggas on snapchat. I saw the text messages of her telling niggas that she wants him and another man to both run a train on her at the same time.

That part didn’t hurt me. I’m not a jealous dude. I know that my girlfriend will find other men attractive. I know that my girlfriend will find other men sexually desirable. I know that she’s not going to go the rest of her life without wanting to fuck another man.

To keep it a buck fitty, if she would have just let me know about that from the start it wouldn’t have been a thing. 

So that part didn’t really hurt me. 

The text messages that she sent her female friends are the ones that hurt me. 

I read texts where she was telling her girlfriends that “he’s leaving tomorrow but I wish he would just leave right now”. 

I saw the texts where she told her girlfriends she could never live in a house with me because she wanted her freedom.

I saw all these text messages where the things that were a complete 180 opposite of what she would tell me.

That really hurt me. 

I have no idea why she would just lie like that for no reason. But I’m sure all of the women I’ve lied to in the past couldnt figure out why I lied to them either. 

Some people would call this karma.

But I think sometimes its just your turn to lose. Sometimes its your turn to get got. its the law of averages. The more times you roll the dice the greater chances of you getting snake eyes. 

Sometimes its your turn to take that L. 

It’s my turn right now. 

Ya boy is SICK right now. My stomach is in knots. When I swallow it feels like a lump is in my throat. My appetite is gone. I called my boss and told him I wouldn’t be at work tomorrow. I’m just going to lay int the dark and hurt. 

She got me man. 

I feel zero embarrassment publishing this on the internet, where it will surely be met with laughing emojis and all that other shit. 

None of what anyone can say will feel worse than what I’m already feeling right now. 

She got me....  I had it coming. I deserve it. 

Remember at the end of Menace II Society when Caine was like “I knew it would happen but i didnt think it would happen like this”

I didn’t publish this because i’m looking for sympathy. I dont want anyone’s pity. I really don’t care to hear anyone’s opinion at all. Don’t feel the need to send me any words of encouragement. 

Writing makes me feel better. 

it is what it is. 

I’ll be ok. 

I don’t hate her... I’m not even mad at her. Not one bit. I’ll always love her. She’s not a bad person. She’s just incapable of having a relationship right now. I know exactly what she’s going through because I used to be her. 

I gotta charge this one to the game.

[treveesamoe-blog]

august 20th 2018

i got back from hawaii this morning. alot has happeneed since my last entry  and a lot is soon to be happened. in two days exactly because thats when i move into my apartment and start my sophomore year at lmu. i honestly cant remember what it was like to be in college or go to school. i always say and think this but i feel so different now. i feel like im just in the passenger seat of life letting it take me wherever it feels. i feel like there isnt control and ive given up trying to harnass it the way i envision it. im tired. im bleh. i dont allow myself to be sad or mad or happy or anything. id say most of my present is dedicated to anxiety. for a month now on and off ive had this awful wobbly like im on a boat feeling. imm convinced it has something to do with my inner ear. but i also just think its a perfect storm too. i have too much sodium in my diet (my world famous top ramen really did that), i dont eat enough protein or enough in general, im detoxing my body from 2 years of weed abuse plus adderall plus nicotine plus coke. and i was surfing in rough waves and driving to high elevations and back down to sea level and then back up and then down and then through curvy roads on the road to hana. and i start school in a few days and im nervous about what its gonna be this year. at the same time im kinda just like well summer is gonna end and its all gonna be over soon no matter my feelings so why not just let this wave take me wherever. im not sure if this is a healthy mindset. i just wanna live in the present. like in SKAM when isak says “life is now”. life is in this moment that im writing this entry. life is in the now. and im determined to keep myself in the now not floating to the darkest or most nostalgic parts of my past or the fears or expecations of my future. im just gonna enjoy what is around me now. whenever now is. thats my goal.

i picked up my “HEAT” bomber jacket from grandma today and we ended up looking through her moms and grandma’s memory boxes. hard to put into words how meaningful that was. family really is everything. i love my grandma and ive realized she deserves to be protected from my demons, even if i dont always see them that way. see look im actually honest in these entries lol. i have such a rough choice ahead of me telling her and my dad. i just want to enjoy how it is now before i taint it with who i was born to love. i choose my grandma over unhealthy worldy desires. i want to make her proud. and that means not settling, but finding my guy. someone im proud of and that lifts me up. hes out there and i know hes fun and cute and happy and i know hes waiting for me too. i trust the universe will bring me to him when the time is right and the stars align haha. for now im just gonna focus on my health and school. love can come find me. and i know it will not when im waiting for my life to begin but when im running with it. 

in other universe news, i prayed that the universe would put a boy in my life and it HAPPENED lmaoo. honestly doesnt even seem real that it happened but it really did. so this guy chris that i met on tinder (lol i know tinder gross stupid dum whatever but hey, it put him on my radar and im not complaining). anyways he was at the same resort town as me in maui this past week with all his friends! how crazy is that! hes the one guy thats been on my mind for a while now and we both end up in hawaii right next to eachother at the same time?? thats freaky universe stuff right there idc. hes going to lmu next year which im excited about but not too excited lol we know what happened with instagram matt last year when i got too hyped. so im just keeping this one as a friend.he even called it a “perfect start to a magical friendship” lmaooo. ok but the tea is that ive been saying to katherine that i wanna be friends with him at lmu. so at least were on the same page about (even though he beat me to it the little bitch haha). it was fun though hanging out with him. i mean it took me getting caught sneaking out and getting yelled at and having my sister and my mom guard the door at night and curfews but hey i got to spend a few hours with him and it was so easy. hes cute too. not that great of a nose but i actually dont even care. great eyes. and hes funny. i just feel like its always awkward with guys like occidental matt where i can barely stand the awkward tension between us. occidental matt is perfect for me looks wise but when i take that away im annoyed by him haha. he isnt funny (or at least my kind of funny.. which by the way is hilarious like if u dont think im funny then ur stupid sorry) and hes boooorriiingggg. and possesive. and moody. blah blah blah i dont need that in my life. i want someone im excited to see. it sucks though cuz im really just not talking to anyone rn. i realized that i just go from one “online boyfriend” to the next because im nervous to not be talking to someone. but thats so weakkk like thats not how i need to live. im choosing to live my own life and love my own self and take care of my self before searching the fake internent for my soul mate. this years about me. about what i can do without drugs and in good health. im determined, and im ready. hahaha okdramatic im always ending these like this. OH WAIT. scatterbrain alert bitch i didnt even finish what happened with chris and his friends. ok so i met him in the lobby and we hugged. we immediatly started talking wiht no awkwardness. he did stumble on his words though at first. i thought it was cute. then we went upand i said hi to his friends and we made cookies with the oreos in the middle and listened to mama mia (gayyyy) and took fireball shots and i drank BEER LOL. then we took the beers on the beach and i bummed a cigarrete off of some rich drunk white ladies. chris said i was smooth. i felt powerful with him,like my full smooth self. likei was light on my feet or something. then we sat at a bench and the softest orange cat walked over to me from far away and let me pet her. ok dont laugh but i really think that was the universe that sent that cat to remind me thats what brought me to that moment. it was like a hello. i just got the chills thinking about that haha im so dramaticcc. then this blonde drunk girl came up to us and we immediatly connected on a spiritual level. she gave me her purple and white lei and she talked about how she couldnt handle her family anymore,but she loves them. then my mom had to pick me up and i said bye to everyone. i guess she smoked chris and his friends out later that night which is so chill haha if only i still smoked weed. i cant beleive that was my life for more than a year. so weird. stoner trevor what a phaseee.

well thats all i got tonight. this was such a scatterbrained shit post but now at least i dont have to worry about forgetting any of this. goodnight future trevor.