#i hate you sm dude

[lesbianlionfish]

Bro I want to know who that guy is. That guy who sees two duelists on the team and thinks oh my god you know we need?! Another duelist! Like why do you do that like why. Please 😭

[fernsfabulousfloweringfacility]

Silly little comic that almost killed me witha chainsaw <3<3

DDVAU by @kitsuneisi and @xmaruu11!!!! so much love for them :D

[all-too-unwell-13]

awkward confession time lmao

so even though i've read atyd 3 times, i've never actually read past chapter 170 purely because i didn't want to read james and lily's deaths (& ofc the others-)

anyway, i read the last 18 chapters today

AND THE ENDING.

it was devastating in, like, a good way??? kinda???

idk i'm still in shock help

[tariah23]

This is such a harmful sentiment to push considering that you don’t necessarily have to be “attractive,” (beauty is subjective, yada yada) in order for men to want to harm you in the slightest… like man, what…

[sunsetsandsunshine]

An issue I need to address:

TW: Drama, cussing…yk all that jazz. I apologize that this post is what you all are receiving from me today. But I need to talk about this before it get’s worse.

Okay, I just want to clarify that there should be no hate being sent towards @osctwordfan for this. Hate and hurtful comments will not and cannot fix what has been done. But that does not I am not angry about it. I am mad. I am livid. Only two people on this site has been able to make me this genuinely upset and it’s frustrating that making a PUBLIC POST is the only way to get this person’s attention. 

4 days ago, May 16th, @osctwordfan started following me. Which, I greatley appreciated because HELLO??? Who wouldn’t, right? A new follower is just an awesome feeling to have. So, I checked their blog to see what they liked and we shared SO many similar interests it was almost scary. And I followed back. 

If you know me for a while, you know my whole “Hi new mutual 💝” message I send to my new mutuals. Because 1: I love talking to people and 2: I just want others to feel like they’re welcome. (If you haven’t received one yet it’s either bc you’re a little older than me or idk how to send the message. BUT YOU WILL GET ONE TRUST 💞💓💘💖💝)

And you all know how you can SEE when someone is online? Well, they were online when I texted this. And I got no response. I just assumed it was nervousness or shyness so I didn’t really question it. Until a few minuetes later they reblogged my “You can always ask” fic. 

Which, woo-hoo I guess. But my message was still not answered. But I didn’t think it was THAT deep. 

The next day, May 17th, I noticed they were online. I sent a quick “Hi” again, awaiting a response. About 5 minutes later I was met with one, except it wasn’t the one I was expecting or hoping for. 

It was a request. For a fanfiction. Okay okay cool. Coolio. You…ignore my two messages of me just simply saying a quick “hello” and you don’t answer…instead you ask for a tickle fanfiction of some turtles? 

I get people are shy. I get that. I do. But me and one of my best friends were talking about it on Insta and it made no damn sense. Following, reblogging and requesting things from an individual that’s been trying to speak with you for the past few days and you not responding and then ASKING something of them is just…weird. 

Me and one of my best friend’s convo:

So, on May 18th I saw they were online again, and so I texted the following: 

Which I felt was fine. It was straight to the point. But where my anger really emegred was when I got notifications of my fics being reblogged by the same person. AGAIN. NOT EVEN 3 MINUTES LATER.

And then May 19th they liked another post of mine. Although it was a post that you would have to DIG DEEP FOR. Because I made it a year ago and only 4 people liked it (INCLUDING ME.). So you would have to LOOK LOOK to find it. 

Then yesterday, May 20th, was just my breaking point. I was chilling, having a nice evening, talking with my fellow mutuals, writing a fic (AND FINISHING WOO-HOO) until I get a notification. And guess what? It’s just another reblog by the same person. 

Did I get any responses of my pervious texts? Nope. Not at ALL. 

I am sick and hurt of being treated as if I’m just a computer that makes fanfictions.

I am a PERSON. A human being that for the past week has been trying to talk with you. And you at fucking 16 should understand that. 

You are one whole year older than me and you think you have the right to treat me this way. Who the absolute hell do you think you are? 

Because let me get this through your head: I live in an African and Jamaican  household, and one thing that we let each other know day in and day out is to never ever let someone make you feel like you’re less. 

So when you see this @osctwordfan I am hoping you have a good explanation regarding to last week. 

@ ing mutual’s in this because this is INSANE and I am LIVID rn: 

@itzsana-kiddingmenow @veryblushyswitch

@skyloladoodles @saturnzskyzz @backy-san

@creativecutie @savemeafruitjuice

@mythica0 @leosmasktails @someone1348 @vxlepop

@anxious-lee @charismakat

@sunny-117 @odder-outlet @jamiesgotchu @ziipzeepzop-eez

@danineedshelp @pocky-dragon

@my-l0v3r-v3rse @rice-cake-teen10

[meli-meliai]

When Seth was a child, he wanted to know about everything.

How humans had first came to be, who the mysterious God that his parents so often whispered about on nights when they didn’t think that he was awake, why his mother always flinched whenever she caught even a fleeting glimpse of a snake. Why his father went out of his way to hunt down every snake he saw. Who decided that the trees and grass should be the same color in vaguely different shades.

It wasn’t just mere, childish curiosity, either. His thirst for knowledge was insatiable. But books weren’t invented yet when he was young; so instead he focused on listening to as many stories as he could.

His beloved mother, though an eternal burden weighs upon her shoulders, took it upon herself to weave the young world’s very first stories. Before the Son of the Lord had walked upon the Earth, gentle Eve held her son in tired arms and spun tales that no one but him would ever hear, parables of virtue and morality, her melodic voice floating in the cool, nighttime winds whistling past the orchards that could never compare to the Garden of Eden. Though she was exhausted-a feeling that she could never quite get used to, no matter how many times she has experienced it- she had never failed to scoop her son into her arms and hold him close as she spins another new story out of thin air.

“My son, have I ever told you about the angels who fell from eternal paradise?”

”No, you haven’t! Tell me!”

”Of course, of course…but before I tell you, do you know WHY they fell from paradise?”

“I can’t know ANYTHING if you don’t tell me! Why did they fall?”

”…I don’t quite know either! But… I might have a guess.”

”What is it, mom?”

”…”

Eve still had dreams-or rather, nightmares- of the beautiful angel who held out the tantalizing red apple out to her- his soft, sultry voice promising her an eternity of knowledge and a vast sea of answers. On some nights, she woke up shivering, swearing that she had felt a feathery wing envelope her back and raise her up, up, up… to a light so bright that she felt as though she might burn if she rose any further Funnily enough, though, it wasn’t his beauty that she remembered. That part was wispy around the edges, blurred and faded like a memory of the wind.

No. It was the promise. Of freedom, of knowing. For what is life without the crisp, sweet satisfaction and reward? What is humanity without automity?

Sometimes the taste of forbidden fruit lingers on her tongue, the crisp sweetness unlike anything she had ever experienced. Yellow-gold snake eyes watched her as she bit into the crisp flesh, and a part of her wanted to kiss it. To thank it for giving her a choice, the freedom, the knowledge that she could make decisions by herself.

Knowledge was a beautiful thing, for if she hadn’t eaten the fruit, she wouldn’t have seen the way the snake’s eyes softened in turn. And for a moment, she could see an angel behind it.

Then she and her Adam were promptly kicked out of Eden.

Her Adam…

”Mom! Are you okay??”

”…Oh! I’m so sorry, Seth. I was just… lost in thought.”

”About what?”

”Nothing, don’t worry about it. It doesn’t matter now, anyway.”

Seth looks so much like his father, but also…so much like him. The fallen angel that she never had a chance to understand.

“…Mom?”

”Hm? What is it, my son? Are you tired? I can put up your bedroll…”

”No! I just wanted to ask, how did you come to love Father? He’s so…”

Frigid. Bitter. Demanding.

She couldn’t imagine a day where she wasn’t in love with Adam.

“I was created for him, Seth. I was born to love him.”

”Yeah… but what about him? Do you think that he loves you back the same way?”

Eve wasn’t sure. Before the fruit, before she got them both thrown out of Eden, she had never questioned her purpose or place in Adam’s life.She was literally created from his bones, shaped to be perfect and his love, his constant companion. But… he had another one, didn’t he? Before her. She never learned the woman’s name, but Eve wonders if she left because of the same reason that the snake tempted her with.

Knowing. Freedom. Something more out in the world.

She wonders about this woman, would love to talk with her about all the answers of the world. She wonders if she is as beautiful as the angel of her dreams.

“Of course he does. If he didn’t, he would’ve left me to face the consequences in the Garden of Eden.”

Seth frowned, scrunched up his nose. His mother always seemed distracted whenever he asked these kinds of questions, but never doubtful. He saw the way her warm brown eyes (the only part of her appearance that he had inherited) stared wistfully into the trees, as if she was reading something that wasn’t- and will never- be there. Waiting for answers that will never come.

And he hated it. He hated leaving questions unanswered. He hated the twistedness of guessing, of having to wrack his brain over and over again just to find a puzzle piece of the uncompleted whole story. What was the point of breaking God’s rule to consume knowledge itself, only for it to be twisted in a labyrinth of confusion? He was only a child, and he had hundreds of years in front of him to figure everything out- but he wanted to know now.

But he loved his mother. He inherited her eyes, her smile, her craving for knowledge. Her desire for something more. But unlike her, he would never have the chance to satisfy his curiosity until long after his death. And his fate will be far, far more cruel.

To him, at least.

”Hey…Mom?”

”Hm? What is it, my dear?”

”If you don’t know exactly why the angels fell, can you make up a story about it?”

Eve smiled, and in that moment the tiredness from her face faded. She nuzzled her son and placed a kiss upon his silvery-white hair, and her heart felt light and content. It was as if she had never left Eden. In fact, she felt even happier, somehow. Would she have had her wonderful children if she never ate the Fruits of Knowledge? Would she have had the joy of holding her bright-eyed son in her arms and making up lullabies to sing to him every night? Motherhood was suffering, but what is joy without it? Light and color would’ve never existed without darkness. And, though she knows that she should disagree, a part of her felt like she would never have it any other way.

If only she could’ve done the same for Abel and Cain…

If only she could’ve saved both of them.

But she was powerless to her own consequences, the first seeds of sin taking root in her own children. Holding Seth close so that he wouldn’t see his failure of a mother blinking back tears, she whispered a feather-soft prayer into the nighttime wind, that none of her children would ever suffer the same fate for as long as they lived. Otherwise, if anything happened to them because of her idiotic mistake, trusting that damned snake’s honeyed words and false promises…

She felt like crying. What kind of mother cries in front of her own child? She felt like a failure of a mother, unworthy to be the forebearer of humanity. For was the purpose of humans simply to struggle, due to her choice? Did she bear her children only to have them face the same fate?

…No. It won’t be like that again.I’ll get them right this time. She thought, as she wiped her face and lifted her face to smile at her son again, unaware that he heard and saw everything. But Seth has always been good at hiding his true emotions, so he gave her a smile that mirrored Eve’s own. He felt her hands tremble against his back.

She could still see the blood that coated her son’s dead body, could still feel the rasp in her voice as she screamed and screamed and screamed as Adam came running to see what was wrong-

No. It would be different this time. It would never happen again.

Her smile faltered a little bit as she looked at her son. So much like his father, but so much like her. Forced to carry such a burden at such a young age… but he never would’ve been born if not for that burden. Truly, a gift from the omniscient and omnipotent Almighty, sent as both a consolation and a reminder of what she had done wrong. And if not for that gift, she would’ve never been here, singing lullabies and weaving stories to tell him. And so, she began a new one, her ethereal voice carrying in the cool airs of the wind, the stars twinkling overhead mother and son as moonlight enveloped their silhouettes. The creatures of the Earth held its breath in anticipation of a new story:

“There was once an angel, the most beautiful out of all the ones in Heaven… he was God’s favorite, until the day he fell, both from his home and from grace.”

[angryborzois]

PARADISE LOST

"This is the super secret plan! We're going to put this plan into action and create the best country by the time we're adults! We're going to make people with nowhere to go our citizens, and give them a place to stay." "Tenjiku, huh... I'm sure we'll make a great era!"

[thornsent]

yeah I looked at OP's blog and scrolled for like three seconds and it's just complaining about trans men/trans mascs in a very r/thathappened way. even if a trans man in a discord server DID ask you to stop using she/her for anyone regardless of their pronouns, it's legitimately deranged and delusional to infer Every Single Trans Man is like that, and it is additionally problematic to insinuate this either came from "fragile masculinity" or some sort of conspiracy theory to eradicate femininity when in reality if this even happened it seems like it's someone who is not doing well mentally, likely in an unsupportive environment, who is trying to control their surroundings in a situation where they lack autonomy. idk do you guys ever get tired of assuming everything is a huge evil conspiracy? if not I'd suggest actually living in the midst of one and then maybe you can compare

[blizzardfluffykpop]

one of these days i'm going to lose whatever sainity i have left and watch chucky... 😔 i used to wanna watch sole-y for tiffany/jennifer tilly- and now with the changmin influence i'm so curious 😔 like as if i don't have bad nightmares after watching most horror content- but like- god- i wanna write changmin as chucky and tiffany as the reader so bad it's not even funny- (ik he views good chucky as his son *which i have been happily able to see most of it until it got too scary* but bad chucky! changmin 🫠)

[franeridan]

doodling ace and suddenly having a lil mental breakdown over him, daily occurrences and all that

[cementcornfield]

.

[keeps-ache]

i should learn to make hash browns

[angelsberrymilk]

I just know Cas would lose his mind if he knew what situationships and whatever the fuck is micro flirting are. I struggle to even wrap my head around the concepts. like I don't even have the energy to play mind games or follow unwritten rules of the stupid fuck ass dating world.

It's either you love me or you don't.

I just know Cas would be so confused like "why are humans making their lives hard on purpose??"

[byanyan]

@chronal-anomaly sent:ㅤShe knows holidays are difficult for them. They're difficult for her too, in a different way, with Christmas spent celebrating in freezing tents while distant sounds of war rocked the Earth beneath them. Then it was days spent at the VA, surrounded by friends and family alike. Lena always enjoyed the feeling of coming together, but there was always a part of her that ached for something of her own. Something of her own came true, crashing through her window and stealing her booze and fighting over the TV remote. A wet cat of a sibling, all claws and hissing comments, that chose her to curl up against. And Lena was so incredibly grateful for them, a balm against the yawn of independent loneliness that had followed her since discharging. Lena knew that holidays were hard for them, surrounded by the promise of what they should have had as a kid. Safety. Security. Love and appreciation and gifts. So Lena decided that Christmas would be whenever they returned to her flat next, where she had finger food and snacks waiting, cubed ham and leftover prime rib from the VA Christmas party, and three small gifts waiting on the table for them. In the first one, a decent multi tool with some heft, complete with two knives, a pair of scissors, pliers, some screwdrivers, and a litany of other random but helpful tools. The second, a gift certificate for a few free nights at a nearby hotel, and a gift card for their local delivery service, for those nights they had to get away. And the third gift, a large, awkward box sitting in the middle of the table. Lena had spent the most time working on it, pulling out ancient leather tools from a bag in the back of her closet. It was a custom harness, just like hers, designed for tagging and spray painting. A large D loop sat in front, just over the pelvis, to clip onto a safety rig. Other loops surrounded the rest of the harness, intended to clip bags onto, and three braces designed to hold active paint cans sat on the right and left hip, and against the lower back. A large buckle sat in the front and between the legs so it would be adjustable for them to be comfortable. And just before wrapping it up, she had dyed the whole harness a dazzling pink and red, complete with sparkles. Stars and other bright marks were stamped into the leather around the belt, marking it as their own. Merry Christmas, Byan.

ㅤit's the evening of the twenty-fifth when they show up at her window again, only a few days since they last came around, and with only the softest amount of hesitation due to the holiday attached to the date. ...and maybe also a little bit due to not wanting to have the gift they left for her addressed in any way, shape, or form.

not sure that lena will even be home, uncertain as to whether or not she has plans they aren't aware of with people they don't know about, byan approaches their usual entry point as they would on any other day: expecting nothing and perfectly content to have company or have the place to themself. some of the lights are on, but that doesn't always mean anything; not when she often leaves one or two running just in case they do show up. pulling the unlocked window open with habitual ease, they clamber through the same way they always do, the soles of their boots squeaking in the wet spot they've created as they turn in place to close the cold off once more.

ㅤㅤ" ey, lena, you home? "ㅤvoice raised so it can be heard through the entire flat, they begin shedding themself of all their layers — their backpack hits the floor first with a dull thump, quickly followed by their coat, gloves, and beanie, all tossed into a treacherous pile atop their bag. boots kicked off last, left to sit in the small, growing puddle of snow and mud which melts off of them, byan steps through the familiar surroundings, smoothing down ruffled hair with both hands and tying it all back with an elastic pulled from their wrist. a delayed and rather muffled call in response to their greeting draws a cursory glance down the hallway before they're continuing on their way to the kitchen for a snack.

it feels like it's just any other day and, for the briefest of moments, they almost forget that it's christmas, almost forget the present that they left for her in earnest, and almost forget that fear of her drawing attention to it and the obvious love and care it's representative of.

ㅤ—that is, until they step into the kitchen only to have it all slapped in their face with the sight of a small pile of presents sitting on the table.

freezing in the doorframe, all byan can do is stare in a stunned, wide-eyed silence. immediately, the thought 'don't be stupid, those aren't for you' echoes through their mind, urging them to drop their hopes back down to the floor. it wouldn't be the first time they were fooled by a stack of gifts left sitting around, after all. would be the first time it happened after the age of ten, though. but lena has friends and colleagues, people in her life other than them, and surely these are simply the gifts she hasn't been able to deliver yet. she's given them gifts before, sure — incredibly meaningful ones which they still treasure — but they've never expected any and still don't. it's going to be embarrassing when they walk over and see unfamiliar names on the gift tags, but at least she isn't in the room to witness them dashing their own stupid hopes.

circling the table like a nervous kitten who isn't quite sure of what to make of a new toy left on the floor, they cast an almost wary glance over their shoulder just in case lena and her scarily silent footsteps have managed to sneak up on them again. with no sign of her, and them now being close enough to catch a glimpse of the writing scrawled on each of the gifts, byan leans over in a failed attempt at nonchalance and scans for the names. then reads them again. —no, no, one more time, because they have to be misreading it.

ㅤㅤㅤ...byan. they all say byan.

caught up in processing this, they're only jerked back to the present by the excited click-clacking of chickadee's approaching footsteps, presumably with lena not far behind. the dog comes trotting in to the room, making a beeline straight for them, and although bewilderment still marks their features, byan doesn't do anything to stop the smile that spreads. in spite of their shock and the muddle of numerous other emotions all battling to take center stage, they drop to a crouch as chickadee comes closer, hands reaching out to rub the sides of her face in greeting.

ㅤㅤ" hey you. "ㅤa laugh escaping in a quiet chuff, they scrub their hands vigorously along her face and neck, head turning to the side with another bubble of laughter when she tries to lick their face in a greeting of her own. although they've allowed themself to be distracted, the teen watches out of the corner of their eye as lena moves toward the fridge and reaches inside. the sound seems to get the dog's attention as well, her head whipping around as her attention is thoroughly diverted. chickadee pads over to where lena rummages around, and byan slowly rises back to their feet, gaze flitting for a fraction of a second to the presents before finding lena once more.

ㅤㅤ" you— "ㅤthey begin, hooking a thumb toward the table with a dubious and almost nervous look now marking their features, only to find themself cut short in their attempted protest by a brusque shushing. mouth hanging open, body still, byan's eyebrows furrow, but all lena does is pull out a tray of various finger foods and smile warmly. there's a nod toward the table, and then she's gone, taking the food to the living room with chickadee quick on her heels.

ㅤ...damn. she's good. and she knows them far too well. knows that they'll try to protest an act of kindness, that they'll need time to process, and that they're as uncomfortable being watched opening gifts as they are directly delivering them. that's what they assume she's doing, anyway — giving them space — once they hear her settle down on the couch the next room over, leaving them alone with the presents she's now directed them toward.

practically bracing themself, byan looks back to the gifts stacked on the table and slowly sidles closer. there's no denying the little thrill of looking down at them all and wondering what's inside, the same way there's no denying the tightness in their throat that comes with knowing that lena picked all of it out for them. tentatively, they reach out for the first, the one closest to their hand, and pick it up. the heft of it has them instantly concluding that it's probably a knife and, once the paper has been shed, they think they're right. ...for all of a second. they aren't wrong, exactly, but they realize it's more than just that as they find themself pulling a variety of different tools free of the base and end up laughing to themself by the time they reach the third screwdriver. well, lena never did love their fondness for knives. they suppose that this way, she probably feels less like she's giving them a weapon. and they can't say that the multitude of tools won't come in handy, even if it is a lot less fun than, say, a new butterfly knife.

when they move on to the second gift, they no longer know what to anticipate. even with all the time in the world, they'd have never thought a free hotel room and food, much less multiple nights in a hotel. after reading the gift certificate several times over, byan is left dumbfounded, gazing down at it while they bite at the inside of their cheek, willing away the returning lump in their throat. they've never stayed in a hotel — at least, not that they can remember — but even they know that that shit's expensive for even just one night. more than one night and a gift card for delivery and there's still one more, much bigger gift waiting to be opened? what the fuck is she on, spending this kind of money on them? on some random fucking kid she has no relation to and no reason to care for?

for all of a moment, they come close to grabbing their things and running out the door. it's too much, it's too much, they don't deserve this, there's no reason for it—

ㅤ...and then they take a breath. remember all the hours they poured into not only lena's christmas gift, but all the others they've made for her as well. remember all the other things that she's done for them that she had no business doing; the way she's opened up her home to them, and the way she's listened with absolutely no judgement in those moments where they've needed to get something off their chest.

they think of her as a sister at this point, it's just... sometimes weird and kind of hard to remember that that goes both ways. she thinks of them as a sibling too, and that's okay. —it's better than okay, it's great. she's become their family, and they... have to work on accepting that.

still fighting the urge to take flight, yet relaxing some again, byan sniffs as they find that tears are now dangerously close to falling. tongue pinched between teeth as they beat back their emotions with a baseball bat made entirely of their own pride and shame — a bat that may as well squeak with the way it seems to fold against that which it's meant to fight — they swallow around the ever-growing lump in their throat and wipe at their eyes with the fuzzy pink sleeve of their sweatshirt. gift certificate set next to the multi tool because they can't handle looking at it any longer, dark eyes fall on the final, most mysterious package. with the way everything else has hit them... they're almost afraid to open it and find out what's inside. tempted to leave it, even. to step out onto the balcony and get absolutely zooted so they have an excuse to leave it unopened for the time being.

ㅤcuriosity, however, gets the better of them. as it so often does.

back to biting the inside of their cheek, byan tears through the wrapping paper, hoping desperately that this is some joke gift so they can laugh and stop dwelling on all the things they don't want to address or acknowledge. but that would be hoping for too much with a gift from lena, wouldn't it?

the crinkling of the paper stops abruptly the moment the box is opened to reveal the harness inside. identical to the one which they've admired every time she's pulled it out, perfect for tagging places they'd never been able to reach and doing pieces bigger than they've ever been able to before, but personalized specifically for them in its vibrant pink and its sparkles and its other very visible and present markings across the leather. god fucking dammit. of course the last one would not only be the biggest physically, but the biggest time and effort investment on her part, and biggest emotional impact on theirs. they have to hand it to her, she's a goddamn pro. no amount of biting or blinking or backing away and pacing across the room is enough to stop the tears from spilling now, and they have half a mind to be real fucking pissed right about now.

when lena has the audacity to come walking into the kitchen about fifteen minutes later like everything is completely normal, the harness is still sitting in its box and byan is all but flying at her. before she has a chance to react (or to look at their still very red eyes), they're wrapping around her in a constricting hug, hands bunching in the back of her shirt.

ㅤㅤ" fuck you. "ㅤcursing her out in a wet half laugh with no real hostility present in their tone, they swallow thickly and shut their eyes tight. damn her for taking everything they ever learned about the world and turning it on it's head. damn her for actually caring and making them feel loved. damn her for being so stupidly fucking thoughtful and making them think that maybe they are worth something. damn her for making them feel things and for making them cry like some pathetic child over the simplest things on more than one occasion!!

ㅤㅤ" what the fuck. like, what the fuck?? "ㅤvoice catching slightly on the repeat, byan gives lena a weak shake inside the hug before closing their arms even tighter around her and making a face into her shoulder. it's an expression of how much they like the gifts, how much all of it means to them, just... not in so many words. they think she'll get it though, considering how well she so obviously knows them.ㅤ" i hate you. thank you. —can we have dinner now? 'cause otherwise i'm prob'ly gonna break somethin'. "ㅤㅤi love you.

[sachsoup]

I think the worst thing that ever happened to me this year ever is having a crush. I identify as aromantic and I've had like just 1 crush ever in my life not until this guy came in.

But I met him before that 1st crush, he even helped me talk to that 1st crush online. He was my friend but now, I guess we are. I don't even know how I catched feelings but it's completely annoying that he appears in my head randomly. And my escapism, a certain character doesn't look like certain character anymore because his face would vaguely that certain character.

I hate this so much because I hate it. I hate being self-concious sometimes cus he's in one of my friend group chats. And I would jokingly flirt with my female friends alot, I hate the fact that I would get second thoughts about "What if he gets weirded out?". I hate that I care so much. I hate it and I wish these feelings would go away.

I hate everything about that guy.

I hate that I care so much and I know that he cares little. I just wish this would go away and I continue my silly little fake relationships with my girlies.

[daz4i]

4k words into the au brainstorming..... not a single proper fic written yet....... amazing