#i just hope that it is the adderall and that i can continue to get semi-consistent results of like. being a more functional human being

[umemiyan]

idk if i'm actually writing any more often than i previously was, but it feels like it—or at least feels a little bit easier—and i'm rather pleased with that alone

i know i'm not cranking out full-length multichap fics or anything like that, but even just being able to drabble or whatever once or maybe twice a week feels like such an improvement. i'm able to at least turn some of my thoughts into something tangible instead of letting them all get lost to the chaotic void, and that's so much more satisfying. i don't feel like i'm struggling as much to put the little pieces or sequences together either, no matter how simple.

[cantsayidont]

Recentish movies of note, or not:

BOTTOMS: Ridiculous "teen" comedy about two gay high school losers, PJ (Rachel Sennott, who also co-wrote with director Emma Seligman) and Josie (Ayo Edebiri), who seize on a rumor about their having been in juvenile detention to start an after-school "self-defense club," in the hope that introducing the school's hottest cheerleaders to the cathartic thrill of girls beating the shit out of each other will finally give these hopeless (and ho-less) virgins a chance to score. So silly that complaining about the stupidity of the plot seems a tad churlish, but the story misses some obvious comedic opportunities, and despite the premise, the film eventually becomes far more interested in cartoonish violence than sex. If you dig the overall vibe, you might not care, but as a gay teen sex comedy, it's ultimately less successful (and less outrageous) than BOOKSMART, even though only one of the latter film's teen loser heroines is gay.

DO REVENGE: Black comedy homage to the teen comedies of the '90s and early '00s, inspired in part by the 1951 movie version of STRANGERS ON A TRAIN, about a disgraced prep school popular girl, Drea (Camila Mendes), who joins forces with gay weirdo Eleanor (Maya Hawke) to avenge herself on her former friends and find out who leaked her sex tape — a plan that involves giving Eleanor a makeover so she can infiltrate the popular kids. Hawke is a delight, Mendes is very good, and the homoerotic tension of their odd relationship makes the movie fun for a while, especially if you appreciate the many self-conscious homages to prior teen movies. However, a major reveal late in the second act makes hash of the already sloppy plot, and the finale is both nonsensical and as antisemitic as STRANGERS ON A TRAIN author Patricia Highsmith, which leaves a sour aftertaste.

IT'S A WONDERFUL KNIFE: Bizarre slasher movie pastiche of IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE, about a teenage girl named Winnie Carruthers (Jane Widdop of YELLOWJACKETS), who kills the masked serial killer who's been terrorizing the small town of Angel Falls and murdered her best friend (Hana Huggins) at Christmastime. A year later, everyone in town seems to have gotten over it except Winnie, who's miserable. On Christmas Eve, she's magically transported into an alternate timeline where she was never born and the masked slasher has continued murdering people, including Winnie's brother (Aiden Howard). To set things right, Winnie has to stop the villain all over again with the help of Bernie Simon (Jess McLeod), the town outcast and the only one who believes her story. Not scary, gruesome, or suspenseful enough to be much of a horror movie, but there are enough grisly murders to make the comedic holiday fantasy aspects seem a trifle sociopathic, and a late reveal that the killer has supernatural powers beyond just stabbing or slashing people feels like one ingredient too many in an already convoluted plot. The main redeeming feature is that it's ultimately a gay love story, which I wasn't expecting, but appreciated nonetheless.

THE KILL ROOM: Uma Thurman, Samuel L. Jackson, Joe Manganiello, and Maya Hawke go slumming in this dumb black comedy about a handsome hitman named Reggie (Manganiello) who becomes the sensation of the art world after his mob intermediary (Jackson) concocts a scheme to launder Reggie's payments by selling his abstract paintings (under the nom de plume "the Bagman") through a burned-out, Adderall-snorting art dealer (Thurman). Intended satire of the cutthroat vacuity of the art world lacks bite and no part of the plot makes any sense, but sheer star power gets the movie through about half its 80-minute running time before the banality becomes terminal.

POLITE SOCIETY: Silly British action-comedy by Nida Manzoor (creator of WE ARE LADY PARTS) about Ria Khan (Priya Kansara, delightful), a Pakistani teenager who aspires to be a stuntwoman, and her quest to save her flaky art student older sister Lena (Ritu Arya, radiant) from marrying a handsome doctor (Ashay Khanna) who seems a little too good to be true. It looks great, and the characters are very charming, but the story waits much too long to clarify the stakes of the plot: Until the finale, we don't know if Lena is actually in any danger or if Ria is just letting her imagination run away with her, and that uncertainty becomes an unwelcome distraction in the later action sequences. As a result, it feels more like an update of the John Hughes perennial SIXTEEN CANDLES than the over-the-top action movie it obviously aspires to be.

SHIVA BABY: Low-key but vivid comedy of manners, written and directed by Emma Seligman, starring Rachel Sennott as Danielle, a bisexual 20something Jewish girl who secretly pays her bills as a sugar baby. When she goes with her parents (Fred Melamed and Polly Draper) to a shiva, she finds herself trapped with not only her most annoying relatives, but also her disgruntled ex-girlfriend (Molly Gordon), her current sugar daddy (Danny Deferrari), his gorgeous blond wife (Dianna Agron), and their new baby. Seligman milks every awkward nuance of this uncomfortable social situation for maximum dramatic effect, and the tension of the final scene (which is nothing more complicated than the characters trying to squeeze into the back of Danielle's father's minivan) will drive you right up the wall.

VOLEUSES (WINGWOMEN): Is it really possible for a 40-year-old Frenchwoman living in the 21st century to not know that lesbians exist? One wouldn't think so, but watching this jokey buddy-action movie suggests that director/co-writer/star Mélanie Laurent desperately needs some kind of educational intervention in that regard. This is for all intents and purposes a lesbian romance: Master thieves Carole (Laurent) and Alex (Adèle Exarchopoulos) live together, routinely sleep in the same bed, and plan to retire together; they constantly express their love and affection for one another, and when Carole discovers that she's pregnant (the hows of which are never explained), Alex immediately assumes that they'll be moms together. Nonetheless, the story not only attempts to no-homo this cozy domestic scenario, but also presumes that there's no way Carole and Alex's relationship could ever be the de facto marriage it obviously already is — indeed, a crucial story moment involves Carole tearfully wishing she were a man so she could love Alex the way she deserves! If the movie had been made 50+ years ago, this might be poignant, but in 2023, it's just weird, and the resulting cognitive dissonance largely overshadows the thin plot, which concerns Carole and Alex trying to persuade their bitchy, cheerfully murderous employer Marraine (Isabelle Adjani, barely recognizable beneath her big hair and oversized sunglasses) to let them retire, while training a younger woman named Sam (Manon Bresch) to become their driver and the ambiguously defined third in their domestic ménage à trois.

[notpaloe]

nine years;

i’m sorry that I couldn’t save you;

I spent nearly 2 decades of my life going to church every Sunday with people that go against everything that I look for, just like you did. I was caught off from social media for two years straight just like you were for five months. I barely have acceptance from my family of my gender identity. Just like you did. struggling with my gender, dysphoria, and keeping my GPA at 3.0, just like you did;

so how the fuck am I still alive and you’re not;

my guiltiness stretches farther than ever;

I figured out when I was trans at 14 I was able to move all of my verbally and physically abusive father after two years when I graduated horribly. During my senior year, I went through two suicide attempts. I overdosed on 14 doses of Adderall, and had my stomach pumped to save my life; I am now with my mom still not perfect, but I’m still keeping going for you. You inspired so many people Leelah. Ever since you have a street of the highway you died in named after you. you have four cities in your home state agreed to ban conversion therapy. I was barely 9 when you’re died, I didn’t even know what suicide or LGBTQ in general was back then. Now at 18 I’m an openly, trans woman, and suicide survivor that still deals with these thoughts. I fight every day for you. I’m now in my freshman year of college. I’m in therapy support group called. transbody positive:) I really wish my 18 year old self could save you. I really wish my 18-year-old self new you. I would do anything to bring you back if I could. And this is coming from a stranger that you never met. But I’m continuing to live my life forever in your honor. you deserved better. You will get better. justice. There is never enough justice. we will fight for the day where you can finally get your wish so you can rest in peace. Until then, we fight;

And you’re right, there is no win but I’d rather choose to live my life as a lonelier woman trying to take on a journey to find my happiness;

and since I’ve been with my mom I found a love interest a month later that gives me so much gender euphoria it makes me feel more of a woman that anyone will ever treat me as such. No matter how much I don’t pass or How low my voice is that I hate, I always have them to reaffirm me. I hope you found the man that you love wherever you are. I hope you’re looking down on me smiling, and even if you’re not, I’m looking up at you always;

thank you for existing,

until next time, the transgender queen of hell<3

[saltygilmores]

Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls-3x8: Let The Games Begin aka Let The ShitCircus Begin Aka Clowntown (Part 2)

@ernestonlysayslovelythings: "Luke saying "Rory will rub off on Jess" seems like a missed opportunity for a joke" Indeed, my friend. He lobbed me a softball and I missed the catch. In all fairness, I was ducking it in hopes that said softball would miss me and bean Lorelai in the forehead. *cracks knuckles* *deep inhale*

Rory and Jess have just signed an 8 month No Rubbing Off contract. Rory is saving all Rubbing Off until marriage. Not her marriage, just a marriage (okay, fine,I plagarized this one) There will be no Rubbing Off until funding for the Handjobs For the Hollow initiative is secured

Shane : (emitting a series of swan honks) Translation: “I was rubbing off on him every day! Until he fucking cut off my hands!" At least I think that's what she said. There are different swan dialects. I’m still learning how to translate, doing SwanOLingo…

After Kirk comes into the diner grief stricken about his missing Dance Marathon trophy, Rory arrives after, where she appears nervous and has a very stilted and awkward interaction with Luke, and my brain was so half asleep that I couldn't figure out why. Then I'm like...oh yeah. That whole Jess thing. Right. Someone just woke the hell up.

I love that this scene is supposed to take place after school (confirmed by Kirk asking Rory where she was at 10am today and she says school) and Jess is rubbing his eyes like he just woke up.

It's nice to see Rory looking at Jess like a deer caught in the headlights because she in quiet awe of him, as opposed to Rory looking at Dean like a dear in the headlights because she fears him.

Tomatos sign! Another reminder that this feral kitten is a grown woman's arch nemesis and in a few moments she's going to say she wishes he would die in a house fire. Don't listen to him, Luke. Look at this kitten. He's clearly emaciated. He got seperated from his feral cat colony and he's hungry. *checks for microchip* *puts out a tin of tuna* *pspspsps*

You would, miss Eats Parmesan Cheese Straight from the Can and Sandwiches With No Innards and French Toast Without Utensils. Soon to be Miss E Coli. We interupt this nonsense for some breaking news. As I was writing this, I was interrupted by an earthquake.

This must have been God breaking free of the heavens and blessing the union between Rory and Jess. Or more like Satan breaking free from the earth and cursing this bitch.

Smoother than a fresh jar of Skippy, this SexCriminal.

This was a grade a Filet Mignon Okuh right here. I will continue to delight in the fact that Rory and SexCriminalJess dated for 6-7 months and despite all the fretting from adults with nothing else to do but nose into the sex lives of adult teenagers, they never have sex, and after all that fuss and furious cockblocking she just ends up screwing Dean instead. The fact that the adults in Stars Hollow are so in awe of Jess' sexual prowess to believe that if Rory were to be in his presence unsupervised for mere moments, her clothes would just fly off and they'd be found humping on the floor is hilarious and infuriating but also, not completely untrue.

"There goes my nephew the Gigolo" He's in awe the speed in which his nephew works, as it would take Luke over 4 years to get Lorelai upstairs alone to makeout.

#SexCriminals Look at all this furious naked humping going on. By god, I bet she's already pregnant. This is the sexiest complete avoidance of eye contact I've ever seen. You better hurry and put a stop to this, Adults!

That kiss was so chaste Mama Kim wouldn't even blink. She could bring them to church and use them as explemary role models for abstinence. They're even Leaving Room for Jesus. Luke:

That was A MINUTE. I know we're going to hear from Lorelai at a future time about how Crusty impregnated her with the speed of a jackrabbit on Adderall, so Jess could theoretically knock Rory up in a few seconds using telepathy or something, but give the boy some damn credit. Can't you people let this kid have ANY fucking joy (or privacy) in his life? I am so mad. It takes a lot for me to get mad at Luke Danes. This is what Luke and Lorelai are imagining will happen in less than a minute:

[ghostradiodylan]

Thirst Games

Kaitlyn threw up a three-finger Mockingjay salute. “May the odds be ever in our favor, you’re the gay Peeta Mellark to my Katniss Everdeen and these are The 74th Annual Thirst Games.”

“Me as Peeta kind of ruins the whole love triangle thing though, no?”

Kaitlyn shrugged. “Love triangles are tired.”

“Yeah, agreed.” Dylan nodded. They both recognized the irony here but refused to acknowledge it. 

———————————————

Ryan was dutifully rinsing down the canoes outside the boathouse when he noticed a tall figure approaching out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head to see Dylan loping toward him from the direction of the lodge.

“Ryan, hey! I brought you something for your next campfire!” Dylan reached into his pocket and produced a small zip-top bag full of white powder. He handed it over to Ryan, who eyed it suspiciously.

“Dylan… is this cocaine?”

“Yes. Definitely. I’m giving you cocaine for the campfire with your 10 year old campers. First one’s free. That’s how I get you.”

Ryan looked at him blankly. Dylan sighed.

“It’s coffee creamer, you absolute narc. If you toss just a little in the fire, it flames up and you should get some cool sparks. It’s the magic of chemistry. The kids’ll think you’re a wizard. I thought it’d enhance the vibes for your ghost stories!”

“Oh, wow, that’s… actually really cool.” Ryan’s face broke into a grin. “Thanks Dylan!”

“Don’t mention it,” he winked roguishly, “I like you Ryan, but not enough to share my cocaine with you.” 

Ryan chuckled at this but as he watched Dylan saunter away toward the radio hut, he had to admit that he really didn’t know if he was joking or not. Ryan was often sarcastic himself, but he also had a habit of taking things others said a bit too literally. He figured Dylan probably was not doing lines in the little shack where he worked over the schedules with Kaitlyn and made his announcements, although if he had been that would explain some of his more colorful broadcasting choices.

———————————————

Dylan was alone in the radio hut waiting for Kaitlyn. He had his back to the door, fully absorbed in trying, unsuccessfully, to unstick a stuck button on the ancient PA system, when he heard the door open.

“Sup Kaitlyn?” He called without looking, “you won’t believe what Ryan said today!” An unexpected warm bass voice came in response.

“What did I say?”

Dylan’s head whipped toward the source of the sound so violently that he nearly toppled out of his chair.

“Uhhh something very wise and cool, obviously,” Dylan fumbled, his hand flying to the back of his head disarmingly as he took in the handsome sailing instructor he’d just been all too ready to gossip about.

“Smooth,” was Ryan’s only reply. He was wearing one of those inscrutable smiles he seemed to favor, the ones that drove Dylan crazy, for better and for worse.

“Sorry, I was expecting Kaitlyn.”

“Yeah, I gathered that. So, what were you saying about me?” Dylan could feel heat rising in his cheeks. He felt like he’d been caught in a transgression, but Ryan didn’t sound angry or even suspicious, he merely seemed interested.

“Oh, just about you mistaking the coffee creamer for cocaine. I thought that was pretty cute.”

Why the hell had he said that last part out loud? Did he forget his Adderall again today? “I mean,” he quickly continued, “I just hope you didn’t try to snort a line or whatever. Woulda' been disappointing to get a nose full of French vanilla and no head rush.”

This seemed to put Ryan at ease. He laughed softly.

“Anyway, what brings you to my humble radio station today, sailor?” Dylan put on what he hoped was a winning smile, “what can I do you for—um—do for you?”

“I was actually thinking more about what I could do for you.”

Mysterious. Cryptic. Intriguing. Why was Ryan like this? And why did Dylan like it so much?

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow. “Do tell.”

“Birthday present for you,” said Ryan, “I talked to Mr. H and he finally agreed to let you guys take the van tonight since I’m going too.” Ryan pulled a set of keys from his pocket and twirled it on his index finger before tossing it to Dylan.

Dylan had to concentrate very hard to actually catch the keys hurtling toward his face, but he managed to do so and was incredibly thankful he hadn’t beefed it in front of Ryan.

“Hey, sweet, thanks dude!” Dylan was actually touched. Ryan hadn’t had to do that, but he was glad he did. Ryan thought the van was the present but Dylan wanted to tell him his presence was the only present he needed. Fuck, that was corny. Being in love made him so corny. He refrained. “I’m really glad you decided to go.”

“Sure thing. I could use a night away from the kids, honestly.”

Dylan and Ryan were grinning at each other when the door burst open again.

“Honey, I’m home!” Kaitlyn called to Dylan before noticing that Ryan was there. “Oh,” she raised an eyebrow at Dylan, “am I interrupting something?” Ryan answered her.

“I was just letting the birthday boy know I secured the wheels for this evening.”

“Oh, cool beans! Can’t wait for our wild night out clubbing in North Kill, the the city that never wakes, with three entire businesses that are open past 7 pm!”

“Hey, we’ll make our own fun,” Dylan promised her, “we always do.”

“Well, it’s almost time for rowing lessons,” said Ryan, by way of excusing himself, “see you guys when you get off tonight.” 

Yeah, definitely gonna see you when I get off tonight, Dylan thought lewdly, I usually do.

“Later Ry-guy,” said Kaitlyn.

Once she was sure Ryan was out of earshot she wheeled around on Dylan.

“Oh my god, your face when I came in just now,” Kaitlyn tittered as Dylan’s cheeks went slightly pink, “Dude. You’re so whipped. You look at that boy like he’s the moon. Like you’re stoned out of your mind and he’s last bag of Cheetos on earth.”

“I knowwww,” Dylan groaned dramatically, dropping his head onto the desk, “I’m so obvious, it’s painful.”

“Well, you’re obvious and he’s oblivious so that’s an interesting combination.”

“I keep flirting with him thinking he might be flirting with me too, but it’s so hard to tell.”

“I can’t get a read on him either. Of course, I haven’t tried to flirt with him. I let men come to me. Or not. It’s whatever.”

Dylan snickered lightly at this, “I don’t think either method is getting us anywhere but, hey, may the odds be ever in our favor.”

Kaitlyn threw up a three-finger Mockingjay salute. “May the odds be ever in our favor, you’re the gay Peeta Mellark to my Katniss Everdeen and these are The 74th Annual Thirst Games.”

“Me as Peeta kind of ruins the whole love triangle thing though, no?”

Kaitlyn shrugged. “Love triangles are tired.”

“Yeah, agreed.” Dylan nodded. They both recognized the irony here but refused to acknowledge it. 

“Aw, shit,” Dylan continued, “you would look hot as fuck with a bow and arrow.”

Kaitlyn gave a small bow of acknowledgement indicating that she did not disagree. “Well, if things go sideways, I’m not frosting myself like a cake,” he shot her a wicked grin, “might let Ryan do it though.”

“Oh my god!” She laughed in disbelief. “That is so wrong.”

“You’re right, if we’re sticking to the bakery metaphor, it’s really more of a glaze.” 

“EW! You repulse me, Lenivy. I’m out.” Kaitlyn waved a hand dismissively and turned to leave the radio hut.

“Shut up, you love me. Hey, wait up Short Stack!”

"Catch up, Stretch," she shouted back.

Dylan scrambled after her. He did catch up pretty easily since her little legs were like half as long as his. They were heading to the boathouse for their Monday ritual of watching Ryan row across the lake in a tank top. Their ostensible purpose was to act as lifeguards in case any of the kids fell out of the rowboats, but Ryan hadn’t lost one yet so they mostly just chatted together and ogled him shamelessly in the highly flattering golden hour light.

Dylan was gazing at Ryan through a pair of binoculars, watching Ryan’s toned arms and shoulders flexing and releasing as the propelled his boat across the lake. Happy Birthday to me, he thought smugly. Of course, it would have been sexier if Ryan hadn’t had to wear that bright yellow life jacket that obscured the rest of him, or stop to shout instructions at a bunch of middle school kids through a megaphone every few strokes as they screamed and flailed and invariably dropped their paddles into the lake, but Dylan would take what he could get. 

He heard someone approaching him from behind but couldn’t imagine that whoever it was could possibly be more interesting than Ryan’s biceps, so Dylan kept his eyes right where they were until he felt a hand firmly grasp his ass. 

“The fuck—?“ he yelped, jumping and nearly dropping his binoculars.

“Happy Birthday, babe,” said a smooth voice in his ear. It was Nick. Dylan swatted Nick’s hand away, tsking in disapproval and kicking backward, halfheartedly, at the other boy’s shin.

“I swear, Nicholas, if you don’t stop sexually harassing me you’re gonna end up sucking my dick. And that’ll be so embarrassing for you when I get drunk off my ass and tell everyone about it at your and Abi’s wedding. Which I’ll be DJing, obviously.”

“I see no reason that I should be embarrassed by any such boyish transgressions of my bachelor days.” Nick shrugged affably, taking a long drag on the joint he’d brought to the boathouse with him and slowly releasing the smoke through his nose.

“Oh my god, get a room you two.” Kaitlyn held out her hand expectantly, her binoculars still pressed to her face and trained on Ryan. She’d smelled the weed without needing to see it. Nick passed her the spliff and she took a hit.

Dylan had no interest in getting a room with Nick. The tall, wavy-haired guy was certainly attractive enough (plus, who wouldn’t go a little weak in the knees the first time they heard that accent?) and Dylan had made a few earnest passes at him before settling on Ryan as his summer crush, but he was pretty sure Nick was straight, or at least mostly straight. He flirted with Dylan in a joking way, sometimes he even crossed the line a bit, like he had just now, but the way he looked at Abi, the deference with which he treated her, the way he got all cute and fidgety when she spoke to him, that felt more like the real deal and Dylan shipped it. He was trying his best to get Nick to make a move, but thought he was pretty hopeless. Which was maybe a little hypocritical of Dylan since he couldn’t seem to make a move on his crush either. But tonight, he thought, that could very well change.

Anyway, it hadn’t taken long for Dylan to realize he only had eyes for Ryan. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. His heart and other prime real estate was reserved for Ryan alone. His eyes however were free to wander over Nick’s bare chest and abs at the pool if they so desired, and it often turned out that they did. But Nick was a follower and no amount of abdominal definition could make up for that in Dylan’s opinion. He was pretty sure the only reason Nick kept flirting with him was that he was mirroring Dylan’s playfully flirtatious energy back at him. He did the same with Jacob, becoming a meathead obsessed with ‘getting chicks’ if they hung out one-on-one for too long.

Ryan, on the other hand, was his own person through and through. He was into the niche little things he liked, black metal, ghost stories, cryptozoology; he didn’t care who knew it or what they thought. And while they generally had a friendly repartee, Ryan challenged Dylan if he thought he was wrong and, as much as Dylan hated for anyone to think he was wrong, he admired the backbone it took for Ryan to point it out, even when he disagreed.

Nick offered the joint to Dylan, who considered it for a moment and declined. “Nah man, Ryan’s coming tonight. I gotta be straight.”

“I feel like you’d want to be anything but straight in every possible way if Ryan’s coming,” Nick chuckled.

“You know what I mean,” he brought the binoculars back up to his eyes in time to see Ryan frantically fishing yet another lost oar out of the lake, “I have to focus.”

“Are you really gonna be straight edge on your own birthday?” asked Kaitlyn, still not taking her eyes off of Ryan. “BOR-ING!”

“No way, I’ll definitely be drunk later,” Dylan assured her, smiling.

“Good,” said Nick, “because I have a handle of vodka in the walk-in with our names on it.”

“Perfection. I’ll stick with that. I just don’t wanna get paranoid around Ryan. He already puts me on edge. Plus, your stash is of a questionable strain if you ask me.”

“Hey!” Nick protested, “It is not! This is perfectly good bud, just because you were convinced that your head was physically fused to the futon last time we smoked, doesn’t mean it’s a quality issue. Didn’t happen to anyone else, did it? That’s the fault of the partaker, not the product.” Kaitlyn was giggling.

“Either way, you guys better get rid of that before Ryan gets finished with the lesson because he will FUH-REAK if he catches you smoking on the property.”

“Ugh, he’s such narc,” Kaitlyn’s eyes were obscured by the binoculars, but Dylan was pretty sure she was rolling them.

“I told him the same thing earlier. I guess we are technically supposed to be ready to jump in the lake to save someone at a moment’s notice, so, maybe he’d be justified in wanting us to not be compromised. For once,” Dylan granted. 

“Yeah, well, good thing you aren’t partaking so you don’t become one with deck while one of the campers drowns.” Nick smirked. Dylan kicked him in the shin for real this time.

———————————————

Happy Thirst Games Thursday, have some pre-canon Hacketteer camaraderie.

This is a WIP inspired by Dylan's birthday being right in the middle of camp and Ryan's line about vodka bringing people together. It's either going to be a one shot posted on my AO3 or it'll get folded into Particles & Waves as a flashback, I haven't yet decided which.

I love these jerks. 💕

[voidfxndoms]

Something Blue (Part 1) // Sterek

Derek is getting married and Stiles, as his best man, decides to bring in an old bridal tradition.

Warnings: swearing, a lot of built-up feelings that don't come out in the best of ways.

W/C: 2,487 (total)

A/N: I had to split it into two parts because I was over the tumble world limit apparently??? I didn't even know tumblr HAD a word limit lmao. Anyway, hope y'all enjoy this first part :)

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

"Okay, Scott? How much time do we have?" Stiles asked, nervously pacing around the room. "Thirty minutes." "Oh my god, we're never gonna make it. Where is he? Where is Derek?" "He's going to be here, don't worry. We got plenty of time." Scott tried calming his best friend down. "It's his wedding, for God's sake! How can someone be late for their own wedding!" Stiles exclaimed, anxiety reeking off of him and invading the room. "Malia just texted me, Braeden is almost ready. I'm gonna go check on the catering and guests, maybe someone knows where he is. You need to calm down Stiles, we're gonna be fine." "I need to tell him, Scott.", Stiles said, eyes sad and shoulders slumped. "And you will. I got you." Scott smiled, putting both hands on his friends's shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. "I swear to God if Derek doesn't bring his werewolf ass in here right now-" "Threatening me on my wedding day? I really should have asked Scott to be my best man.". A tall, bulky figure walked into the room, pearly whites flashing as the words left his mouth. "You piece of shit!" Stiles said before taking big strides towards the groom and adjusting his tie. "Relax Stiles, everything is going according to plan. Scott, did Stiles not take his Adderall today?" Derek joked, looking over at the young alpha. Stiles huffed, then stumbled towards his backpack. Ignoring the two wolves making fun of him, he took out some things from his bag and placed them on the room's glass coffee table. "Okay. You, big bad wolf, c'mere." Derek, cocking a brow, approached the small table in the middle of the room. He observed the objects in front of him as he sat on the small sofa. "Stiles? What is this? I refuse to do any sort of voodoo ritual." Scott, standing behind Derek, looked at his best friend with a puzzled expression on his face. "I thought this was only for brides." "Well," Stiles said, "this is no ordinary wedding, so I don't see why only ordinary traditions should apply."

"Can somebody please explain to me what the hell I'm looking at, and what is this supposed to be?" Derek asked, half amused, and half annoyed. "Something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue.", Stiles announced proudly as Scott rolled his eyes. Derek furrowed his eyebrows. "Oh my God," Stiles's jaw dropped. "You seriously don't know what I'm talking about?" "I have no idea what this is." the werewolf replied, confusion still plastered on his face. Before Stiles could say anything even remotely sarcastic, Scott said: "Guys, we've got twenty minutes. Stiles, make it fast." "Alright alright." the amber-eyed replied. He took a deep breath, unsuccessfully trying to calm his nerves. "As your best man,-" he started. "The worst decision of my life by the way, don't know what I was thinking." Derek interrupted him, chuckling. Stiles glared at him. "I was saying…" he continued, stressing the final word while shooting one last annoyed look at the giggly man opposite to him. "As your best man, it is my duty to make sure you enter this new chapter of your life in the best way possible, carrying bits and pieces of your life before that horrible mistake when you decided to marry Terminator's daughter." "You know her name is Braeden. And, come on, be nice to her -- she saved all of our lives. I still don't understand why you hate her so much." "It's not her that I hate…" Stiles mumbled. For a split second, Derek saw a glint in his best man's eyes. It was pure sadness, but it lasted for so little he questioned whether he'd imagined it. "Anyway, I took the liberty of borrowing a bridal tradition. In front of you you have three objects," Stiles said, before picking up the first one. "Wait, weren't they supposed to be four?" Derek questioned. "We'll get to that in a minute. Now, the first one; something old." "The triskelion?" "Yeah. This part is about having a relic, something that will always remind you about your roots. The sentimental value this thing holds is insane." Derek raised an eyebrow. "Think about it. Your mom used it to help you and your sisters learn how to control your powers. It's been in your family for years, Kate tried to steal it… you even have it tattoed on your back!" Stiles explained. "I also used it with Liam." Derek pointed out. "Yeah, but that was a total disaster." Derek looked at him, lips tight in a thin line, the eyebrow still cocked. "What? It's not my fault your whole "We can all rise and fall to another" speech didn't work." "Alright, alright. Stiles? Move on." Scott intervened, time slowly running out. He nodded, giving Derek the triskelion, who put it in the inner pocket of his tuxedo. "Object number two, something new.", Stiles said. Derek held it for a few moments, before shooting his head up and asking: "What the hell am I supposed to do with a roll of duct tape?", annoyance oozing from his voice. "Trust the process. The "something new" is an object that will help you in your new life."

Skeptic, Derek let his best man keep talking. "And now something borrowed. Courtesy of Jackson." "I don't need a bow tie, I'm already wearing a tie." "See," Stiles said, making his way to the groom, "This sentence is exactly why you need the bow tie." Kneeling before him, he undid Derek's tie and started tying the navy blue satin bow tie Jackson had lent for the occasion. Derek hardly ever wore suits, and even more rarely tuxedoes. He liked casual and comfy clothes and had no interest in the world of elegance. However, when the engagement had been announced and his closet opened, the only suit Stiles had been able to find was dusty, crumpled, and sprinkled with holes made by some very hungry moths. So he had forced the alpha to the best suit shop in Beacon Hills, where Derek had gotten a tailor-made navy blue tuxedo with black satin flaps that had been hunting Stiles in his dreams ever since the first time he had seen it on the werewolf. But Derek had drawn the line at that, refusing to spend one more dollar on his appearance, claiming that he wasn't getting married to the crowd but to Braeden. "She loves me for me. I don't give a shit about what the guests are gonna think." "You really thought I was going to let you stand there, butchering all degrees of style?" Stiles asked cockily, straightening the perfect bow he had tied. "Oh come on, you're being dramatic." Derek rolled his eyes. Stiles scoffed. "First of all, you were wearing a TIE. With a TUXEDO. Ties are worn with suits, bow ties are for tuxedoes." Derek's eyes widened slightly, surprised at the reaction. "Okay fashion police, my bad." "And let's not even mention the state of the tie you were wearing… Terrible!" "Okay- Stiles? It's okay. We get it. Move on.", Scott said, worry in his eyes. "No you don't!" Stiles almost shouted, suddenly misty-eyed.

To be continued...

[lustfangs]

Time to send another horny, horny anon ask story!

First things first: part 2 of the 'at work' story has already been written and sent in (unless by some awful connectivity issue it didn't make it to your inbox, which would be disheartening at least). In respect of that, this new tale will be a fun look at why sometimes, having a study partner can lead to unexpected places (dear heavens above I hope you get some rest from all that work you're having to do, vamp).

All in this month's smut fiction: It's Not Plagiarism If Your Brain Switches Off Around Me

---

So: another month, another thrice-damned assignment. Something or other about some guy who died 300 years ago and how this affects the modern application of whatever. In other words: potentially interesting in theory, horrendously boring and time-consuming in practice. 12,000 words, to be submitted by the 11th. Wonderful.

Now, this would be fine - easy, even - if not for the fact that the friends you normally do this sort of studying with are all off on a study trip (one they are very eager to share via social media). Huh, wonder who that tall guy in all the photos is? Nevermind.

Anyways. All you need to know is, you don't have a study partner to help you focus, and you're feeling unusually responsible enough to start the damn thing three weeks in advance.

Thank you, adderall.

Ah! But there is one person you could call on! A guy you haven't talked to in a while - you are majoring different things, afterall, but this seems like the sort of stuff he'd know about anyway. A few text messages and an extremely corny joke later, you've arranged to meet up at the library for a couple hours, seeing as he's not up to much anyway and is willing to help.

~

You meet up in the library for the first time in over a year and... boy, he must have been hitting the gym quite a lot since then. That is, if the strangely clinging shirt he's wearing is anything to go by. Sly dog, walking around with a too-small shirt just to show off... mmmm...

Of course, he says it's because he doesn't have any clean shirts right now (ha! as if) and had to pull out an old one from a year ago, but whatever the case you're soon settled down in a secluded corner of the library building, poring over a 100-and-something year old biography of Deadguy Whateverhisnameis, as your old/new/hot friend launches into an explanation of what's up with that dude and why anyone still cares.

It's long and meandering and you're pretty interested, actually, the way he says it - deep voice, slow and steady and yet still enthused enough to keep you awake. Well, it's that or the fact your eyes keep sliding off his face and down to his bulging cock. It's not even hard, and yet you can see the thick bump under his pants, set against his leg. A glance up reveals he's noticed-- and a blush flashes hot across your cheeks, before awkwardly stuttering that he should continue.

With a knowing smile, he obliges, keeping the words as short and interesting as he can, to maintain your attention on what he's saying.

Oh my god he's hard now. It's pulsing, throbbing through his pants. It must be... what? As thick as your wrist? Oh my god...

He says something, and you wrench your eyes up again, hoping ever so hard you're not red as a beet. He just smiles, and asks if you're feeling hot or something. What? Oh, you took off your sweater; just a tank top now, and nothing else. His eyes remain firmly fixed on yours, that so-sweet look on his face as if he can't see your nipples begging to be taken out in the open, stiff points feeling so sensitive against the suddenly-rough cotton.

"Go on, sugar. Take your time."

Oh god. He's just looking at you, and you've gotten so horny you're humping the desk, pussy soaked enough to sound wet even through two layers of clothes, seeping into the chair's pillow. Why are you this bad? Is it because you didn't have any sex lately? Or because you're pretty sure you know why your friends are hanging around that tall guy in their pictures? So many thoughts, so much that's making you so horny, and him all big and aloof and seemingly ignorant of how fucking horny he's making you--

The hand on your neck is almost a relief. Tightening grip, your head starts getting hazy, and your tongue lolls out on its own.

"God, you really are a slut, huh~"

Your eyes slowly drift to his face - or they try to, at least, before you're pulled from your chair and half carried, half dragged, by the neck, to a dark little room in the corner, just behind the bookshelves. A light click announces the lock, but all you can focus on is getting your breath back.

Not like it matters, since the moment you finally take a good gasp of air again, he's there to stuff something in your gaping maw. The taste jolts you awake, and you try to get away - say something, scream, just make sure you can escape- but you can't. You're mouth's full, and he's bucking his hips, fucking into your sloppy mouth.

Wait a second.

He's not moving his hips anymore.

Why are you still gagging on his cock? You can get away - you could run, push past him and-- And what? He's locked the door. Maybe you could pretend to run instead, then present your pussy and... the thought's made you so horny, so sopping wet, that the moment you feel hot cum shoot against the roof of your mouth, you just start swallowing.

Tongue working round and around, you clean off his fat meat, and give it a kiss as he slowly pulls out. You... can't believe you just did that.

A sudden rush, and you're against the door, desperately scrabbling for a way out. It's locked. You knew that already.

Your jeans hit the floor with a thump, and you bend over further to look at the lock, hoping it's just a latch or something easy... like you.

His tip punches your womb. Your eyes widen. Everything slows down, as the pleasure... and the beautiful pain hit your brain at once. Ragged gasps. Why does everything feel so sensitive?

What's that inside you? Oh! It's deeper! That slapping noi-- He's gripping your throat again, firm hands clenching around your windpipe, as he pummels your weeping pussy, stretching you out so much you're crying. Blubbering, sobbing, you taste his seed on your tongue, and feel him so deep, inside. You're his toy now, his to ruin and fuck into total submission.

Your knees knock together, dropping you a little further down onto his huge shaft with a gasp - and the hot spurt of virile, ruinous cum, right up into your begging womb, breaks something inside you.

-

You're still on the floor, in that dark little room. He's cum in you so many times you've lost count. He's started talking about that assignment you've got again.

Why?

"So every time you think of studying, you'll call me over to help."

Then he fucks you so hard you scream, and pass out.

-

He comes to your place the next day, stack of books in hand.

You get about two sentences done before he's dragged you, begging and weeping, into the bathroom, so he can fuck you loud enough for all the neighbours to hear. You don't care what they can hear. You just worship and fall apart as he uses your body, again and again.

He leads you out of the bathroom, coated in cum, and sits you down to study again.

You're sucking his cock again before you know it, hot tears welling up as you realise what's happening

-

By the next week, all he has to do is come by your house, and you're stripped naked for him, fingerfucking yourself on the kitchen counter so he can watch you mewl his name as you cum.

He's brought some friends over, is that okay? They're here to make sure you're studying just right as well. You don't even make it up the stairs before they start breaking you in. The house reeks of sex, and you've fallen in love with him.

-

You finish the assignment on time, and rush to him to show off, like a good little pet. He gives you a present - a camera.

He sends a video of what you do for him, to your friends.

You get a video just like it back, from that tall handsome guy you saw before.

When your friends get back, you introduce them to your new boyfriend. You wake up on your cum-soaked bed, and share a sloppy kiss with your boyfriend's dick, then another with all your other broken-bitch friends.

Suffice it to say, you suddenly just love studying.

xxxxxxx

Heyyy vamp! Hope you like this new installment of "slutty shit I send you because I feel like writing a story we'll both cum to"

Well do I know the drudgery of academic endeavours, so I wish you every amount of rest you can manage to get in the coming months. Also, if you'd be interested, I could write you a significantly longer piece (for a small fee)

-𝄞

Haven’t logged on here in nearly a month because my finals are right around the corner and when I tell you this made my eyes roll back with how good it was …. Definitely one of my favorites you’ve written so far anon

[hermit-pride]

Day: 15. Still not doing very well with my journal but things are getting better. First off I saw my rheumatologist for a routine follow up and it appears that I am in remission with the Remicaide infusion and the weekly dose of methotrexate. But I had read that Paxil has properties that studies have shown reduces inflammation. I asked him to start me on it; which he did. Rheumatoid Arthritis also can cause depression as well. My theory about my depression is that I mostly denied having depression even though,in retrospect, I certainly had many symptoms of depression. But since I didn't "feel" depressed it was a particularly simple denial.

"Well dingbat", I told myself, "you have become so very accustomed to burying your feelings that you don't "feel" the depression like others".

So, nine days of Paxil and I see/feel the difference. My anhedonia has not changed appreciably, but my avolition has improved and I'm getting things done without reminders from my wife. My mood nearly always measured between 4.75 and 5.25 on a scale of 0 to 10 with 0 being suicidal and 10 being finally able to look into Jesus face and knowing that 10 will be my new "normal". Now I seem to be between 5 and 6. But am still insulated against moods that are lower or higher. With my lifelong SzPD I'm not sure how I would hand mood swings out of my normally narrow range.

I guess, to sum it up, some of my negative symptoms for SzPD are impacted by my depression. Go figure!?!

Other good news, and bad... My wife ordered herself a wheelchair and she used to for the first time today. With her multiple health problems, she spend most of her time in bed; problems like POTS, fibromyalgia, long covid, poorly controlled Addison's, chronic spine problems, and new(er) onset of steroid-induced diabetes all contribute to her having little energy, dizzy spells, and continued oxygen dependence. Her life is miserable.

But, between Adderall and Paxel I feel like talking (outloud) and have the spiritual energy to engage in conversation. She told me this morning while driving to visit out of town family that I'm a "different person" with these medications. I have been reminded and I feel bad that she has little social stimulation other than what I bring. It is great to be able to better provide this as she has been depressed and lonely because of me being somewhere else when I'm with her. Other good news is that she tolerated room air while at rest. The bad news is that she is no less tolerant of activities like getting ready to see our relative. It would normally take 2 hours if she was well but this morning took almost four! And she required help dressing and packing, etc. Long covid-19 is a bitch!!

My RA is doing quite well. I worked Wednesday and Thursday night (12hr shifts) and had no resultant pain. Typically my feet hurt for about 24° afterwards. I'm hoping it's Paxil doing it's thing in concomitant therapy with Remicaide and MTX. I admit, walking an average of 12-18,000 steps over a 12 hour period isn't good for RA joints but with my ADHD I just don't want to sit. Also, if I sit for more than five minutes I get stiff, like a 90 year old man and when I get up on me feet it hurts a little until the stiffness goes away. Fortunately, work is going well. Thursday night I was called into the managers office and told that the union signed a contract and now we can get our raises. She said next paycheck will show a $2.46 raise! It's a good time to be a nurse! But joking aside, I have always enjoyed being a nurse and hope my health holds up until I'm 70 years old and I will (mostly) retire. My wife suggested I go part-time and work one shift per week after I retire. Hopefully, that will be an option. 💛❤️.

[jerzwriter]

because I'm curious, do you feel like your MC(s) are similar to you? You can expand on that as much as you feel comfortable, but as someone who basically writes exaggerated versions of me, I want to know more about the writers behind some of my fav MCs.

Hey there! Thanks so much for this ask!

I've always felt that there are characteristics of me in my MCs, but they aren't really self-inserts. I always viewed Casey/Kaycee as better versions of me. My latest MC, Zoe, she's a bit different, but there are still traces of me in her. If I ever get around to the OC I'm creating for Ethan in my Tobias/Casey world, she has some basics too.

Ways we're alike:

In my HC, Kaycee/Casey grew up in an inner city. Their family struggled financially but always did their best to do what they could for her. K/C is proud of her upbringing and credits it with making her sensitive to the needs of others who are not privileged in American society. She became an activist during her college years and continued to be civic-minded, involved in causes that matter to her throughout her life. That's all me. lol Kaycee decided one kid was plenty for her after Emma was born. ME. lol They both speak their minds and can be sarcastic and funny. ME (It’s the trauma… lok) They're both bisexual and have had relationships with men and women in the past, but they tend to be in relationships with men more frequently, so people tell them they're not bisexual. They do their best to educate people on this and support others like them. ME.

2. Zoe... OK, this is hard for me to say, and honestly, I just realized this as I'm answering your question. The circumstances are very different (of course, I have not survived a zombie apocalypse lol) But like Zoe, by the time I entered my young adult years, I had been through A LOT. Others who have been through similar things became closed off, retreated, turned to very unhealthy coping mechanisms, or gave up... but Zoe kept going and always felt there was something worth living/fighting for. And you know, that was me. Even though I don't realize it because, well, it's just my life... you know? But now that I look at it, I'm like, "Holy shit." This is pretty cool actually. Zoe is also sarcastic and a flirt - ME and ME. lol

3. Eva ... she's not too developed yet, but she's 1/2 Cuban and 1/2 Greek, which are two (I have more) of my cultural backgrounds. She grew up in NJ (like me) and struggled with self-doubt for a long time, mostly because of her family, who just didn't know better. ME lol

How we're not alike:

Our heritage is different. I didn't grow up in Philly (but I love it!). They love science, and I barely got through my classes, lol My parents were nowhere near as supportive as hers. I would have had a lot less tolerance for Ethan's shit before they were together, but maybe not at a younger age. (I'm like Casey - if he had left for the Amazon without telling me, he would have been dead to me. lol) Casey manages three little girls and a career with aplomb. I would have been in the fetal position and popping more Adderall than is legally allowed. lol (Of course, I didn't have a Tobias to help, so there's that... oh, we're different there too lol)

She's more fearless in battle than I would ever be. Though I've never been forced to be in battle, so I can't say that with 100% conviction. When we are put in in situations where we "must," we often find that we "do." I'd say she wants to be a leader, I did not. but I'm not 100% sure she wanted to (and I'll address that in writing). I think she just found she had to and rose to the occasion.

3. Eva's family was a pain in the ass, but she had a very loving/supportive father and older brother. Her mother was also misguided but kind. NOT my experience lol Eva is much more serious than me. She has a playful side, but nowhere near the lunacy that is me. Zoe and Eva are also 100% straight, so there's that. lol

Well, that got long! lol That's me. I hope that gave you a glimpse of how we're alike and different! Thanks so much for asking.

[amysubmits]

This is such a great comic expressing how it can be for some with ADHD. I hope I don’t detract from it too much by adding my experience.

I was also a quiet little girl so I was labeled as irresponsible, careless, not living up to potential, spacey, etc. Nobody ever suggested I may have ADHD when I was little. When I was just shy of 14, I saw a psychiatrist for mental health issues and was diagnosed as ADHD inattentive type. Totally unexpected. They never really said anything to me about that diagnosis, but I was given adderall. Nobody ever explained to me or my parents why I was diagnosed, and what ADHD looked like for me. We always wondered if the diagnosis was even correct because I wasn’t hyper, loud, disruptive. My mom often pointed out that I could sit through family dinners just fine, and when I was younger I’d spend long periods of time playing with the same toys. I didn’t seem to have a lack of focus in that sense.  

In our senior year of high school, one of my close friends got an ADHD diagnosis and started meds - and she had an experience just like this comic. She really grieved for her younger self. She wondered how different her life could have been if she had the help of medication before. She talked to me about how she had no idea she had been living life on hard mode until she had the meds. She said she felt ‘more like herself’ than she ever had. At the time, I thought this meant I likely had been misdiagnosed, because that wasn’t my experience with ADHD meds. 

I had heart palpitations and felt anxious while on the meds. Some of my other diagnosis’ included anxiety and PTSD as it was, but the adderal seemed to exacerbate my anxiety and I didn’t really get why they thought I should be on ADHD meds anyway. I wasn’t disruptive, and my grades were okay. I didn’t see how adderal was helping me, but I did see how it was harming me. So, I quit taking it. 

About a year ago I was struggling to get work done. I knew it was likely me being in a fog of grief (my dad died), but I was worried about my performance at work. I’m not usually one to struggle with being productive at work. So I went to my doctor to see about ADHD meds for the first time in about 15 years. She gave me adderal but said it may work better for me now as brain chemistry changes a lot between being a teen an adult. I tried it, and it hasn’t caused me anxiety, but after a few months I wasn’t all-consumed by grief anymore so my regular focus returned and I didn’t feel like I needed it to help me with work. So I didn’t see any point in continuing it, and had mostly stopped using it for the last several months. 

This summer I started therapy. I didn’t really expect ADHD to be a big topic of discussion, but the last couple of months it’s been a big focus for me because I’m just now - some 15+ years after my original diagnosis, finally gaining an understanding of what ADHD actually looks like for me. 

I’ve talked to my therapist about how I’m self employed, set my own deadlines, and keep myself accountable without trouble. I see lots of content on tiktok and other places that discuss ADHD where they talk about how difficult (nearly impossible) it is for people with ADHD to start a new project, or begin a household chore. Things like “I know I need to do laundry today, and I’ve been thinking about it and feeling guilty about it all day, but I cannot make myself get up and start the load.” Online this is usually what I hear people refer to when they say “executive dysfunction” so I thought I didn’t have executive dysfunction. 

So again - I thought maybe I was just misdiagnosed? But my therapist has explained to me that ADHD is really a spectrum. It’s not a spectrum with just a few types, either - it’s not hyperactive adhd, inattentive adhd, and mixed type. It’s a much more complex spectrum. 

She’s talked to me about how diagnostic criteria for ADHD was largely based on boys and how ADHD often looks different in girls, women or AFAB people. I had come across some of that info online, so that wasn’t news to me. But it was news to me that the “I desperately want to do X, but my brain won’t let me” is more commonly seen in boys/men/AMAB people. So me not having that despite having an ADHD diagnosis isn’t weird. 

She said the diagnosis is also largely based on people observing others with ADHD. So while it’s called attention defecit hyperactivity disorder, it’s common (or at least not uncommon) for people with ADHD to not feel like they lack focus. She said it’s now being understood that it’s more about being able to regulate your attention. She said she feels a better name would be attention regulating disorder! She said some with ADHD frequently experience hyperfocus, and this can make it hard for them to switch from focusing on one thing, to focusing on something new. To those observing us, this can look like we’re “spacing out” but in reality we’re hyperfocused on something, so we struggle to switch our focus to something new. 

My main point is, I’ve realized in the last couple of months that I 100%, without a doubt have ADHD. I just experience it differently than some others, but that’s normal because ADHD is a spectrum. I’ve also learned that ‘executive dysfunction’ is a ton of things, it’s not just being unable to make yourself do the laundry or something like that. 

My ADHD symptoms look like this:

I struggle to regulate my focus, because I hyperfocus on things that are “weird” to hyperfocus on. It’s common to hyperfocus on things like an exciting scene in a movie, or a video game. We’ve all experienced saying “hey” or “dinners ready” to a kid playing a video game and had them reply “huh?” even though you spoke clearly and at a reasonable volume. They just didn’t comprehend what you said because they were hyperfocused on their game. I do that if I’m just...doing the dishes and thinking about work. I’ll be so deeply invested in my thoughts that I can’t hear you unless you give me a minute to shift my focus. This also overlaps with audio processing trouble, and sensory processing is part of ADHD, too. 

Another way that I struggle to regulate my focus is bouncing between tasks. People without ADHD can cook something that needs stirred every 2-3 minutes, and text their friend between stirring and will effectively regulate their focus between those two tasks to keep stirring at 2-3 minute intervals. I can’t just jump back and forth between focusing on one or the other with ease, so i’m likely to either get too focused on cooking, or too focused on texting, and I’ll end up not stirring frequently enough, or I’ll be too focused on cooking and stir too often. This also can overlap with “time blindness”. You might think you’re stirring the pot every 2-3 minutes, but maybe it’s been 5+ minutes because you got too focused on your text message so 5 minutes felt like 2 minutes. So you may think you did a decent job of stirring at the right intervals, but you’re confused why it’s now sticking and burning, you don’t even realize you lose track of time, necessarily. It’s a type of executive dysfunction. 

I’m not a linear thinker, and I can’t edit my thoughts very well while speaking. Maybe I’ll be trying to explain to someone how I’ve been struggling with migraines, and I’ll go to tell them about one particular migraine I had, and then my brain remembers something else that happened on the day that I had the migraine, and now I catch myself telling this person about what else happened on the day that I had a migraine, even though it’s totally irrelevant to my point. I didn’t really even want to share this excess detail with them...it’s just that it popped into my head, and took over my focus, so I had to follow it along, and now I have to say “Oh, sorry, anyway - “ and then jump back to what I actually wanted to talk about. My therapist has used the analogy that neurotypical people, when talking, are sort of driving a car. They can control the speed, and control where to turn. They can consciously decide what details to share and what not to share. Where for many with ADHD, they’re more like a train on a track. If their brains focus shifts to something, they can’t really choose to just change topics. This is why I get “side tracked” and add irrelevant information when talking. And writing, to some extent - though I do try to “trim the fat” some when writing. This is a form of executive dysfunction. 

Rejection sensitive dysphoria. I had heard about this on TikTok and elsewhere too, but thought it was basically when someone immediately jumps to feeling rejected anytime someone disagrees with them, or similar. It can be that, but it can be a lot more subtle. It can basically look like social anxiety, and worrying that people will judge you - not necessarily that you think they’ll hate you or shun you. My therapist explained that how I sometimes have really strong reactions to worrying about being judged is also related to emotional regulation trouble. I knew emotional regulation difficulties were a symptom of ADHD, but I thought that meant people who get frustrated or angry easily and can’t calm themselves down. Yet again, it CAN be that, but it also can be having “big feelings” other than anger that aren’t proportionate to the situation. So if I screw up something I was cooking and sort of momentarily fall apart because I’m so upset about it? That’s an emotion regulation issue, and this is part of executive dysfunction, too.  

Hyperactivity. I thought this was the hyper kid who can’t sit still in school, church, or even at dinner. It can be...but my therapist said boys are more likely to have hyperactivity that disrupts others. AFAB people tend to have “internal” hyperactivity. They twist their hair, change positions in their seat, fidget with their jewelry, chew their nails, bite the insides of their cheeks, etc. That’s me! 

So, now I’m re-trying ADHD meds although I don’t feel that I really struggle with a lack of focus overall...I think I’m more prone to hyper-focus, but they can help with executive dysfunction, too - and many of these things I experience are forms of executive dysfunction. I never paid attention in the past to whether I was better able to switch between tasks or ‘cut the fat’ when talking, when medicated. I thought they were just supposed to give me more focus, so that’s all I was checking for when trying to figure out if they were working. 

I figure out I had ADHD last year, but I didn’t seek an official diagnosis and medication until this year. I’m 30 years old, my school days are long behind me. I slipped through the cracks because I have predominately inattentive type and I was a quiet little girl. Having ADHD does not mean you have to be hyperactive and loud, it means you have a processing problem in your brain that doesn’t allow you to regulate your focus or emotions. 

Mental health even now is still taboo to talk about. People are more open now than ever about it however and that gives me hope. 

This is a profoundly personal comic and it only reflects my own experience with ADHD. It is on a spectrum with a wide range of personalities. But if my story connects with someone else and helps them, that would mean the world to me.

[stardustinmyhands]

8/5/24

I’ve been treating my ear infection with the antibiotic ear drops I had from my last infection. It’s still, but it’s not sharp pain like it was Friday.

I have to admit my mood hasn’t been great the last month. I’m not going to talk about why. It’s nothing major, but it’s important to me. It’s just something that I can’t control and I don’t like it. I’m trying to learn to adapt with my new mood. I feel I’m just cruising in life. Not really feeling happy or sad, I just am existing. I continue through out my day on cruise control, day in and day out.

I’m drinking coffee, which explains my stomach right now. I I didn’t need zofran at all this weekend, and that’s big for me. No infusion this week.

My cpap machines keeps displaying a note to contact my supplier, it says the engine has lasted longer than it’s suppose to. It’s still working though, I need to still call them. I don’t want my machine to stop working on me. I won’t sleep good without it.

I’m just cleaning today, and drinking my coffee today. I keep seeing things on TikTok about autism and adhd burn out and I’m like “omg that’s me”. It’s like describing me perfectly I’ve never been formally diagnosed with autism. I’ve been told unofficially by many psychiatrists they believe I have by the mental evaluations I’ve taken. I have been diagnosed with adhd, and take adderall for it. I also take abilify for depression. Which abilify is commonly prescribed for autism.

My dr reordered my propananol. I seriously hope that helps with my headaches again. I’ve almost used up my tramadol, I get a big quantity for two months. And due to headaches and elbow pain it’s almost all gone.

I’m riding my 20 mg adderall right now and it feels good. I like it. My prescription is for 50mg total a day. I kinda wanna ask to get bumped to 60 mg total a day. He said the highest dose he prescribes is 60 mg to one patient. And I’m right below that. When I’m at work I drink coffee and energy drinks on top of my adderall. I’ve been to a cardiologist he said my heart is fine. What he saw on the ekg is my normal and has always been there.

On top of my normal meds and now my ear drops I’m also taking DayQuil a couple times a day to help my ears. My nose runs constantly and I can feel it in my ears right now. Anything to help my ear. It’s also just my left ear that’s been hurting. I don’t know if it’s just in my ear canal or has it spread to the inside of my ear, so I don’t know if I should go to urgent care. I mean my insurance is 100% covered for everything, so it’s not a cost thing. It’s just, am I treating it enough with my ear drops and sinus meds or do I need antibiotic pills to?

[boredandmedicated]

Blaming the DEA for the adderall shortage does nothing

I am in my 20s and have been diagnosed with ADHD since 2008. Taken stimulants since 2008 with brief periods of trying nonstimulant medication in hopes of not needing to take stimulants anymore. I’ve been on adderall since 2016 and never had an issue obtaining my prescription until the past few years. Now, I blamed the DEA at first. Couldnt fathom why they wouldnt just raise the fucking quotas. Surely it isnt a supply issue. But as time goes on I honestly understand why more and more. Not to say I agree with it or LIKE having the stress I get every month, nor am I saying the dea is blameless here- seriously, they certainly arent blameless, okay? Dont take this to mean that.

But in large part this is because of the original, extremely loose standards surrounding an adhd diagnosis in, say, 2000-2005. Kids could get a diagnosis and a prescription for doing shit that normal kids do. Not wanting to read a book. Wanting to play outside. Normal kid shit. There were a substantial-though perhaps not a majority- of parents who obtained a diagnosis for their children like so despite knowing that their child did not have it. There were multiple reasons for this, though from anecdotal accounts it seemed more common for kids aged 12-17; whereas parents with children under 12 years old seemed (again, anecdotal, not statistical) to be seeking that diagnosis as an easy answer.

Prescriptions were booming and the kids were predictably not getting better after being given adderall- in fact, many were WORSE, unable to sit still entirely, having been given an amphetamine that just boosted their energy and didnt help with focus at all.

Following the realization that this was because a lot of kids that were prescribed adderall and diagnosed with ADHD did not, in fact, actually have it, the measures for prescribing and diagnosing ADHD were significantly tightened up. One requirement I recall is that an in-person visit and evaluation was required before any diagnosis or prescription for adderall. This would continue until COVID, when they declared a state of emergency. This allowed people to bypass the usual requirements for obtaining adderall and an ADHD diagnosis- so, no in-person, lengthy evaluation and comprehensive exam with a questionnaire, puzzle-type things, and verbal questions with open ended answers.

At the same time, as COVID quarantine extended beyond the original short-term that people were expecting, people were realizing quarantine fucking sucked. It is hard for ANYONE to work at home as they normally would at the office. Flexibility is incredible at home, but people were going stir crazy. And many attributed that stir-craziness, either validly or less so, to undiagnosed ADHD. ADHD became “trendy”. Platforms like Done would advertise on tiktok and twitter with little videos about how easy they make getting a diagnosis, how quickly they can get you adderall, how its all online. How with quarantine in place, it can get you where you need to be, easily diagnosis within an hour, a prescription within the week.

As a result, as shown by this graph (somewhat), there was a significant jump in adderall prescriptions for young adults aged 22-44.

I dont know and cant say how many of these are attributed to misunderstanding normal human behavior with ADHD, as opposed to valid diagnoses. I can say this: Adderall is not a joke, and abuse of adderall, people seeking diagnoses because they just want the drug itself, thats not uncommon. Its not uncommon for any drug. The DEA will not risk another drug crisis after crack, and especially during the fentanyl crisis now- and not to mention, tranq on the rise.

For that reason, I think blaming the DEA is a fruitless endeavor. We should be focusing on things that we CAN do. One idea I’ve had is, maybe we could make nonstimulant medications the first line of treatment. Wellbutrin, for instance. Nonstimulant medications tend to work much better prior to having any stimulant medication treatment for ADHD anyways. And bringing back the in person evaluations and lengthier diagnostics. I really do understand the classism arguments made about that requirement. But I think its honestly necessary. It is much harder to “fake” or “exaggerate” ADHD symptoms during an hours long in person evaluation, than it is to do so on an unmonitored, five question quiz and a 20 minute zoom call.

Taking adderall without needing it is not only selfish, but also, harmful to others AND yourself. Heart issues, anxiety, lack of appetite, and the “focus” doesnt work the way it does in people with ADHD if you take it without needing it. Not to mention, longterm stimulant use in someone without ADHD, when that person stops taking it, withdrawal symptoms from it can look remarkably similar to actual ADHD. Then we get stuck in this perpetual cycle. And frankly, Its not fun to wake up and see posts from people who made fun of me for my ADHD in elementary and middle school, suddenly glamorizing their own sudden onset ADHD and posturing as though theyve had it all along. Especially when I know theyre the ones contributing to the stigma that not just me, but many people face today when trying to simply… get the medication we need to do work at an even remotely functional level. And even more so when I know that shit is why doctors are hesitant to even recognize an adhd diagnosis as valid anymore. They see any adult with adderall now as the epitomal pill pusher, pill seeker, addict that just got a fun little upper to stay up and be energetic.

So yeah. Dont just blame the DEA. It is people too. Its people you know, sometimes even your friends.

And, you can acknowledge the bad ones without dragging the people with valid prescriptions and true intentions through the mud. So if this post doesnt apply to you, i promise im not talking about you.

[miamoo27]

New Years 12/31/2023 4pm-12am

This is the first time I am ever alone on New Years eve. I always had plans or made them or found something to do. The past three new years eve I was with May, Andry and Nick. Three people I barely see anymore. And two of them I dont talk to at all. Theres something sad to this yet truly beautiful. I feel that this is the first time in my life I feel ok being alone. I am sad but I am ok and safe. My family is healthy and alll together for the first time in years. The trauma with my moms liver in 2022 and then now 2023 with cancer has been so challenging that it brought us together and opened someone of us up to the reality. Knowing the truth and feelings things more is so hard and challening. Everyday is a sensitivity to the way others energy it is, It feels too much. I feel so much it drains me to where I want to be alone in my little cave of art and not speak to anyone. My mood is driving me and without my lexapro and adderall id be dragging my feet hopeless walking through the day. At night I let myself breath when I finally get to smoke. Its the one relief I have to some of the dreadful energys I have to feel or maybe even manpuaatively want to feel bad (like continuing to fuck my ex when he didnt love me anymore). I self sabotaged hurt my own self because I didnt know how to be alone. Now when I finally let myself be alone I realized it isnt so bad. I am crazy but its ok because I am a loving person. I just want to give love to everyone I dont want anyone to feel the things I have to feel so hurt or lost. I want to help people. I figured out my dream of helping others because I know what its like to feel things that make you feel like your going insane. The invalidation others make you feel destroyes you. Of course your going to feel bad. I want to be there for people that felt like that. because I know it changes with the right care. I know people can change if they want to we have the innate ability to want to get better, I have hope and opitism in everyone. I used to be afraid of that optism but now I love it. I think it makes me enjoy life and understand the beauty within earth, the universe. The mind is so powerful and strong. The empathy and hope I have in others can hurt me but I know that pain is being than not being authentic to ones self. I am authencitally just a very empathetic understanding person and thats awesome even if I maybe give to the wrong people.

Shit that scared me in 2023 (writing this while stoned)

-when my mom was like dying from the chemo

-finding out my mom had breast cancer

-when nick told me he was fucking someone else

-when sean sent me all those gifts

-when my mom was high and thought there was a person in the house so we called 911( very funny tho)

-Nick breaking up with me and cancelling the trip (actually more traumatic than scary)

-being in a mosh pit at a coco and clair clair concert

-Going to a phish concert and being harrrassed by a 45 year old man to take acid for the first time (weird as fuck but good concert)

-Greening out in front of my dad multiple times

-when I was told my blood pressure was high as fuck

-the whole ashma shit and my sinusn bro mad annoying I hate it I litterally can never breath

-Everything that had to do with Nick was so traumatic literally disturbs me.

-Having like ashma attacks on the buses at work

-Honestly the trips at work were a fever dream I dont think I ever want to work there in the summer ever again.

-Seeing Andrys I dont even wanna mention it such a weird moment this summer was so off I love this fall though really made some awesome changes and been so good in school and getting out of my comfort zone. LIke since August I have been doing great. despite that bee boop with Sean that was a very odd moment. I forgot about most of it truly.

[like-wuatafauq]

(⁠=⁠^⁠･⁠ｪ⁠･⁠^⁠=⁠)

Your usual dreams, aspirations/goals and your actual night dreams and daydreams

Lol oh okay!

Um I tend to have horror movie type dreams 😅 and if not I dream a loooooot of someone I like or people I know, even if I haven't talked to them they show up on my dreams and tell me what's going on in their lives or ask me things lmao

I daydream a lot about romance as fucking stupid and cheesy that it sounds, and also ideas, like I tend to invent a lot of things in my head that can me useful for me or ppl in general, I daydream about songs and making up songs or writing in general. Honestly I'm in my head a lot but it's not very organized especially if I'm not on Adderall but when I'm on it I'm able to actually follow through more easily if that's something I wanna do.

As for my goals I use to mainly care about making my family proud but when I realized my parents or siblings didn't care when I was looking for a place to live or my health I kinda was like fuck it. I'm just gonna do everything that makes my heart go !!^-^!! I'm gonna expand the area for my cats and snake then build them things, I'm gonna play music and paint, I'll plant flowers and trees, I'll make my traditional Mexican dishes and continue my traditions in my place, I'm gonna get more involved in protests or volunteering in things I care about, I'm gonna study what I like, and i'm only going to allow myself to do work/job that I enjoy and is not too hard on my body

I've like...I've had enough...

and I am faaaar too blessed and lucky to pursue all of that than continuing to please people

And I hope you do the things you love too.

[starlightkun]

HOLY SHIT YOU HAVE ADHD AS WELL?! I JUST STARTED RITALIN THIS MONTH HOLY SHIT

Its crazy finding out so many people I admire have adhd as well. A youtuber i watch (jessica kellgren fozard) also found out she had adhd recently and i also found out that park bom has it and ive always felt really connected and sympathetic of her struggles. I guess since our brains all function similarly, we probably found the way others with adhd talk and present themselves easier to understand and more relatable even if we had such different lives and interests. It makes me feel less alone and really protected knowing that there are successful and lovely people who have succeeded without sacrificing any of the traits in myself which I used to hate and instead outwardly projecting and celebrating it as part of them.

It makes me feel really hopeful for the future since ive been surrounded by so many really driven and successful people at school and was beating myself up for things that I didnt know was adhd.

p.s. im so happy that adderall is working so well for you, im starting at low doses of ritalin at the moment and was facing quite a bit of side effects which were quite tough but you being so happy with your results makes me more optimistic and excited about continuing this process.

-✨anon

omg i love jessica kellgren-fozard! and yeah, i was technically diagnosed w adhd in 2017 but my psychiatrist never actually told me or (allegedly) my mom. and my psychologist at the time looked me in the eyes and told me i dont have it. but i've been struggling a lot recently with just doing daily functioning tasks, and i've related to ppl w diagnosed adhd for so long i've always suspected i had it?? so i recently requested my medical records from my old adolescent psychiatrist and literally first session in 2017 she diagnosed me w adhd primarily inattentive type. and just didn't fucking tell me. so i finally got a new psychiatrist and he was like "oh yeah lol let's get u on some adderall rn wtf"

yesterday was just day 1 on the lowest adult dose tho and i am having some side effects (suppressed appetite, sleep disturbances) but they're pretty manageable imo. im used to a depressed appetite from another medication so i have strategies for nutrition like this, and hopefully that and the sleep will even out after a little while (even if they dont, it's worth it imo. like i simply cannot keep living like i have been. i had a cardboard box from an online order sitting on my living room floor for 5 months bc i just. couldnt pick it up for some reason. i didnt have the pick-up-the-cardboard-box button in my brain. for 5 months. but yesterday i threw that out and cleaned my whole kitchen easy peasy.)

i really hope you get your medication sorted out! i know the struggles of adjusting meds, and side effects, and switching, and the like (i think i've tried like 10? for my chronic migraines in 2 years) and ik it can rlly suck :// but i wish you the best!!! we've got this!

[heavysoldat]

it’s really you (on my mind)

best friend’s brother!bucky barnes x fem!reader

(gif by me)

inseparable since middle school, it was no surprise that you ended up falling for your long-time best friend. what was surprising, was who you actually ended up with at the end of the day.

warnings: SMUT (unprotected vaginal sex, blowjobs, face fucking, finger fucking, dirty talk, name-calling, slightly public sex, consent checks, breeding), angst, insecurities, language, very small age gap, hurt/comfort, a little cheesiness. 

(this is highly inspired by something i watched a while ago, that i cannot remember for the life of me)

A two-week long vacation between two families can go one of two ways: completely fine and dandy, or a total fucking disaster mid-way through.

This one time, it’s not so perfectly black and white.

Your feet are covered in wet sand, sliding through your flip-flops and even found home in the bottoms of your bikini. It doesn’t help, how they drag along the hot pavement on your way back to the shared beach house. 

The crash of the screen door hitting the wall is the last thing on your mind, shaking body making it harder to walk as you storm through the living room, hell-bent on landing upstairs with a crash land onto your temporary mattress. You’re practically dizzy with embarrassment, shame, anxiety and fear— feeling like you just swallowed an entire bottle of Adderall mixed with coffee.

Your own anxiety blinds you from your surroundings— so the sudden, jarring feeling of a hand stopping you via a grip on your wrist is enough to have you letting out a shriek.

“Hey! Hey!” Bucky calls, a lighthearted chuckle gracing his voice, “What’s the hurry?”

You’re breathing shallow and fast, heartbeat practically pounding in your chest; you’re crumbling in on yourself. You try to cover it up, try to calm yourself down, but the shakiness in your breathing and palms is enough to blow your cover. 

“Noth-nothing,” You stutter, barely meeting his gaze. “I’m just- tired, and wet, I just wanna take a shower.”

He goes quiet, smile leaving his features. His eyes are scanning you, scanning you with a softness you rarely see from him. Always the cooler, more aloof, older guy— fresh out of college, hurdling closer towards his future than you’ve ever been. It’s rare; rare that he speaks like this, rare that his voice isn’t threaded with incessant teasing and sarcasm.

With one look down to your shaking hands, fiddling with each other nervously, he steps closer.

“Hey,” His voice is soft, “What’s goin’ on? You’re shaking.”

“Nothing.” You insist— but the tears threatening to spill from your eyes tell a different story.

Bucky grabs your trembling hands, holding them together, “Take a deep breath. Calm down.”

After staring down at his feet, lulling it over in your head, you let out a shaky, trembling breath. You continue, deep, in-and-out, until it’s smooth. Until it’s not withering in your lungs. Until it’s not an uphill battle.

“Can you tell me what’s going on?” Bucky asks, slowly letting go of your hands, letting them fall to your sides.

You watch as he leans back against the marble countertop, on the side next to the bar stools. You rub your right arm with your left hand, still trembling, but at least breathing.

“It’s- uhm,” You’re struggling to get past the wall of anxiety that’s flooding you. “I asked- I asked him out.”

Bucky’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, staring at you with the prompt to elaborate.

“Beckett.”

His eyebrows raise in knowing. “Finally?”

“What?”

He laughs humorlessly, picking at the loose thread on his Baja hoodie. “I mean, I can’t say I didn’t see it coming? I honestly expected you to do it sooner.”

Your eyes grow sad, scared and wary.

“It wasn’t obvious, or anything,” Bucky retracts, hoping to calm you down, “At least, like, not to him. No offense to him, but... my little brothers fucking oblivious. Honestly.”

You hum in response, tugging on your bottom lip with your teeth.

“I’m assuming it didn’t go well?”

You shake your head.

“That’s... really surprising.” His voice raises in pitch, eyebrows going back up. “I mean, I- I always thought, he had a thing for you. I think we all thought it. That’s why, well, I-“

“Really?” You cut him off- tugging on your lip harder when he nods. He watches as your fingers grab onto the skin of your arm harder, pinching it between your fingers with unease.

“Do you want a hug?” Bucky asks, voice soft, eyes soft, but with uncertainty.

You nod, almost childlike, immediately melting when he pulls you into a tight embrace. The fabric of his jacket is enough to warm you, fingers folding into it to pull him tighter.

“I’m getting your jacket wet,” You mumble, muffled, head buried in his chest.

He blows a raspberry, mouth vibrating against your hair, “I don’t care.”

It’s the constant throbbing in your brain— the fear of you being you that keeps dragging you down. The fear that you weren’t good enough, weren’t hot enough, weren’t funny enough. It has you crying softly against his chest, rough sniffling muffling with the fabric.

After a few, long, heavy moments of you rotting against his chest, slightly calmed by the constant rubbing he’s providing to your arms, you finally manage to pull yourself away.

Rubbing a tear from your cheek, you gulp. “I don’t know what I did wrong.”

“Hey, what?” His voice strains, “Don’t say shit like that. It’s not personal, I fuckin’ swear. You didn’t- you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s his own shit. That doesn’t mean you fucked up, or-or you’re fucked up.”

Your eyes continue to water, your wiped away tears still making your cheeks sticky and hot. You still can’t look at him, even when he’s holding you, even when he’s guiding you.

“Then why does it keep happening?” Your voice is barely there. Barely a whisper.

“What?”

You swallow, thick in your throat, sucking your bottom lip in behind your teeth.

“This- it’s the second time I,” You breathe, “I just keep getting turned away, rejected, I feel… I feel so fucking stupid.”

“You’re great. You’re... you’re fun, and you’re smart, and you’re- you’re hot.”

That has you scoffing. It’s not in disdain for him, not in anger— but in sorrow and pity for yourself. The frown on your face is bigger than your own eyes. 

Sensing the tension, the anxiety, he asks: “Do you want to sit down?”

When you say yes, he guides you to the long, L-shaped couch in the corner of the room. Sitting down with you, letting enough space sit between you two so it’s not awkward— but not enough that he can’t comfort you.

“You’re not- you’re not unlovable, or unattractive, or whatever is going through your head right now.” He reassures you, still rubbing your arm with his thumb, “I swear to god.”

When you look at him, you can’t help but feel the words bubbling at your throat, giving you heartburn and scorching your mouth like vomit.

“It was you first.”

First, he’s confused. His eyebrows furrow, his eyes squint, his body tenses. “First?”

But when it hits him, it hits him.

“Oh.” He gasps, “Oh.”

You turn away, staring at the wooden floor poking out from between your feet.

“You never- I never- That’s impossible. I never, I couldn’t have rejected you. You never said anything.” He rambles.

You shake your head.

Oh.

Oh.

His eyes soften.

The years of him dating his past girlfriend; Dot, was her name. They had met in college, hit it off quick, and swallowed up two years of your life. The Instagram photos, the times she slept over, her insistence on PDA and flaunting him anywhere she can— it ate you up. It broke your heart.

“I didn’t know. You didn’t- you never said anything.” He stutters, voice still soft. He sounds sad, almost regretful. He sounds saddened for you and himself. “I’m... I’m sorry. I always thought... I thought you and my brother...” He explains, dread filling his lungs like air. 

Your face only saddens, swallowing thickly. You can’t help but feel your lip quiver, fingers beginning to tremble again.

“Did you actually?” Bucky asks, slowly.

You nod. “Yeah... yeah.”

Bucky can’t help but go silent. He takes a moment, takes a second to really process it, staring off into space next to you for moments before he speaks. The silence kills you, it’s painful, it’s murderous, almost violent in the way it hits you— almost threatening to draw tears from your eyes once again, finally looking at him.

“I wouldn’t have rejected you.” He states, finally, eyes closed. When you don’t respond, he continues, “I... I liked you too, you know.”

“What?” You ask, almost like your flabbergasted by the idea that he would even think about seeing you that way. You’re younger, you’re behind him, you’re from a different world— not even in his peripheral vision.

“Yeah.” Bucky sighs. “I just, I thought you liked Beckett, so I never- I never said anything. And even- and even if that wasn’t the case, I didn’t want to make it awkward, didn’t want him to hate me for ruining your friendship or something.”

“So you...” You trail off, trying to collect your thoughts, “You were into me, before Dot?”

He chuckles, dry and nervous. “I mean- It’s... it’s shitty, but, I did even while I was with her.”

You’re staring, eyes blank, eyebrows raised, finding yourself trying to soften your breathing again. “Do you, still...?”

“I mean...” Laughing awkwardly again, he leans his elbow on his thigh to rub at his forehead, “Yeah. Yeah. Of course I do.”

“Really?” Your voice is hopeful, a smile appearing at the sides of your mouth.

“Yeah.” He laughs again, but this time, it feels genuine. “I mean- have you looked in the mirror? That swimsuit you’re in today is enough to drive me to fucking drink. And it’s not just because you’re hot, you— you’ve been taking up my mind, like. constantly. Every time we talk, I walk away so fucking...” He lets out a long, heavy sigh. “Satisfied.”

That has you almost crying again, but for a completely different reason. You’re laughing, wetly, trying to pry your eyes away from him despite the fact that you can’t. He squeezes your arm, reminding you that you’re still connected.

When you turn back to him, he brings his hand to your cheek, wiping some stray, wet hairs out of your eyes. His hand lands to cup your cheek, just to hold you.

“Can you kiss me?” You find yourself asking, before you can even think about it.

Bucky’s taken by surprise. It has him almost acting immediately, before he roots out his worries.

“I’m not...” Fingers trailing your face, “I’m not taking advantage of you, am I?”

You giggle, heart beating warm from his care. You shake your head. “No. I promise.”

Slowly, he leans in. He places a tentative, experimental kiss to your mouth— lips barely even pressing against yours. You grab his face, pulling him in, swallowing his mouth in yours. It has him grunting and moaning against you, hand moving to your back to pull you in closer.

After exploring each other’s mouths, practically eating each other whole, Bucky pulls away:

“What about- what about my brother?” He asks, out of breath.

“I don’t- I don’t care about him,” You breathe heavy, nose rubbing against his, “It was you first. It still is.”

He basks in your words like they’re the sun, a grin exploring his entire face and crinkling his nose. He brings you in again; has you moaning and gasping into his mouth, hands holding onto his stubbled jaw for dear life. He can feel his body vibrating, his stomach wrapping up in knots as the familiar, cold desire spreads up his spine; the same one that is spreading throughout your core.

With your body pressed so close to his, getting closer by each minute- you can feel his length under his sweatpants, growing harder with each kiss. He apologizes, pulling away from you.

You’re trying to catch your breath, “Don’t be.”

You lean down, pressing open-mouthed kisses along his jaw and neck, fingers trailing down his clothed chest with the same rhythm. Feeling his fingers itching near your ribs, you grasp your hand in his, bringing it to cup your clothed breast.

Bucky groans as he squeezes the mound of flesh— he’s quick to pull down one of your bikini cups, head moving quick to bring his mouth to your nipple. He wraps his lips around the bud, suckling onto it as he massages the rest of your breast.

That has you tossing your head back, letting a moan out into the air- “Fuck.”

“Is this okay?” He asks, mumbling against your bust.

“Yes,” You whine, “Fuck yes.”

With him sucking on your exposed tits, you brush your hand down, palming his cock overtop of his pants. He groans against your nipple, pausing his movements at your distraction.

When he stops, you pull him away from your tits, grasping his face in both of your hands.

“I want you in my mouth.” You confess, breathless.

That has Bucky groaning again, cock throbbing in his pants. “Are you sure?”

“Please,” You whine, “I wanna suck your cock. Please.”

How could he ever say no to that?

With his approval, you lean your head down almost immediately. You pull down his sweats, exposing his boxers, which are removed just as quickly. His cock; hard, leaking and pink at the tip smacks against his clothed stomach. You wrap your hands around his length, suppressing the moan threatening to spill when you realize you can’t even touch your fingers around his width.

When you give your first experimental lick, he’s moaning, head tossed against the couch; “Fuck.”

Bucky’s hand moves to wipe the hair out of your face, watching as you wrap your lips around his cock and slide him down your throat. He’s grunting, moaning at the sight; unable to keep his eyes away from you, despite how they threaten to close. 

He’s salty in your mouth, tip hitting the back of your throat as you bob your head up and down. Your hand massages the part of his length you can’t fit down, feeling the way he’s throbbing against your palm.

One thing you’ve learned is that Bucky is extremely vocal. He can’t keep his mouth shut— between grunts, moans and whimpers, he’s letting out an entire symphony above you, free hand gripping the couch so tightly his hand turns white.

You lean up to grab his hand, pressing both of them at the back of your neck as a signal. 

He stares into your eyes, big and round above his cock, “Are you sure?”

You hum against his cock, making him grunt.

“Fuck, okay.”

Bucky grips your hair between his hands, spreading his legs enough to let himself balance. He starts slow; pushing and pulling you up and down his cock, groaning at the feeling of your tongue moving around his tip. 

He gets faster, fucking your face within minutes. You’re gagging around him, spit trailing down onto his pants, tears slipping from your eyes to mix with your already wet face. 

“Fuck, that’s a good girl.” Bucky moans, “Takin’ it so well. You like my cock down your throat? You like letting me use that little mouth of yours?”

When you moan at his words, he can’t help but laugh.

“God, I know you do,” He gets faster, grunting harder, “I can tell. Such a little- fuck, little whore, lettin’ me use her like this- I love it, shit, I fuckin’ love it.”

He pulls you off of him with a wet pop, whining at the loss of your mouth- despite the fact that he’s the one who caused it.

“C’mere.”

He’s quick to pull you up, pulling you onto his lap. You can feel his cock against your stomach; but before you can react he pulls you back against his mouth, moaning at the taste of his precum against your tongue. 

Bucky pulls the other cup of your top down, freeing both of your tits to the air conditioned breeze. He slides his hands down your stomach; tickling your skin, before it slips underneath your swim trunks. 

His fingers rub on your folds, smiling when he finds you already soaked.

“You get that wet just from suckin’ me off?” He asks, after pulling away from your desperate mouth.

“Uh-huh,” You whine, “Can’t help it.”

He coos, rubbing your cheek with his free thumb, “I know you can’t, baby.”

Bucky’s fingers catch in your hole, slipping inside with ease. He’s able to fit two in with your provided slick, soaking his fingers and sliding them right in. His thumb flicks at your clit as his fingers scissor inside of you, pumping in and out.

You bury your face in his neck, desperately grinding against his fingers with heavy moans against his neck. That only makes him get faster; pistoning inside your heat with abandon, hitting that spongey spot inside of you with ease.

“You want me to fuck you?” He breathes, strain in his voice clear. “Want me to fuck you right here on this couch, where anyone could fuckin’ walk in and see you?”

You whine, “Yes, fuck, please.”

When he pulls your trunks to the side, he slips inside of your wet heat easily.

Bucky groans at the feeling of your fluttering core clenching around him, harmonizing with your whimpers.

He pulls you up by your chin; softly, stroking your cheek with his hand, despite how it shakes with pleasure. “You okay?”

You nod, “Mhm. I’m okay. Please move.”

He laughs, pressing a kiss to your awaiting lips. 

Bucky starts off slow— a tantalizing, torturous grind, barely even moving inside of your cunt. 

“Mm, I know, honey.” He coos, after you whimper impatiently against his skin, “I gotta- fuck, gotta go slow. Pussy’s so fuckin’ tight, if I go any faster I’m gonna blow my fuckin’ load already.”

That has you moaning. That image: him filling your cunt, having him leaking out of your folds and onto the couch, over top of your trunks— it fulfills this primal desire in your stomach, making you even more desperate than you were before.

“Oh fuck, do you like that?” Bucky asks, almost shocked, “You like the idea of me fillin’ that little cunt?”

You nod, whining.

“Fuck,” He moans, drawn out in a long groan. His thrusts get faster; he’s grabbing onto your waist, pulling you down against him so he can piston into your cunt from below. You’re loud, moaning into the air as his heavy balls slap against your ass. “God, you’re so fucking dirty.”

Your hand draws down to beneath your pants, rubbing your clit in circles.

“Fuck, baby,” Bucky grunts at the sight, “Look so pretty gettin’ yourself off like that, shit, yeah, make yourself cum on my cock. That’s fuckin’ it.”

You’re bouncing on top of him without even moving, tits moving rapidly in front of his face, hair flowing every which way with the fast movement. You’re so close, so desperate to that rope finally ripping, tearing inside of your core in the most delicious way. 

Bucky’s sounds of pleasure fuel your need, getting you closer to that edge, hurdling, hurdling, hurdling, until—

“Fuck, Bucky, fuck!” 

You’re crashing. Falling down off the cliff into a bone rattling orgasm, cunt clenching so hard around his cock you’re suffocating it. Your legs are twitching, trembling around him, but he doesn’t let up. He keeps fucking you through it, using you to get himself off- now that he no longer needs to worry about you coming. 

“Oh god, baby, gonna fuckin’ cum,” He grunts, “Can I really come in you? Fuck, you gonna let me?”

His voice is so genuine, it has you turned on all over again. 

“I’m on the pill, please. Please, fill me up.”

You lean down, whispering, whining encouragement into his ear, practically pleading for him to spend his load deep inside your cunt.

When Bucky cums, he cums hard. His balls slap against your ass one last time, burying himself deep inside of you. His legs are trembling, burying his face into your neck to muffle the yells he’s letting out, almost completely against his will. 

“Oh,” He moans, voice trembling like his limbs, “Oh god.”

“Mhm,” You whine, brushing his hair in your fingers.

You two stay there, wrapped in each other. You can feel his cum dripping out of you already, running down your leg to stain the grey fabric of his sweatpants; which undoubtedly need a thorough washing now.

You feel Bucky leaving soft, gentle kisses against your jawline, up to your ear, cheek and nose, then finally planting one on your lips.

“You okay? Was that okay?” He asks, brushing your hair from your face.

“Mhm.” You hum, again, “Was really good.”

He smiles, genuine and soft. “Good. I’m glad.”

You giggle, bringing him in for another kiss by the back of his head, more sloppy this time.

“Hey, uh,” He says after he pulls away- much to his own dismay, “As much as I’d love to just stay here, we should probably move. They’re gonna be comin’ back from the water, soon.”

“Oh- shit, yeah, right.” You laugh, letting out a harsh breath. But when you move to get up off of him, he pulls you down, wrapping your mouth in another harsh, tongue-filled kiss.

“Sorry, just had to do that one more time.”