#i just... yeah

[jermalove]

Jeracula

[fuckthemforthis]

My everyday reaction

to their existence

x x x x x x x

[enjoythesilentworld]

wille :(

I originally wrote this for day 7 (Erik) of Wille's month but ended up binning it and I'm much happier with the one I ended up posting..

bUt, I started over because I was like "hmm Idk this might be too OOC", then i remembered that Wille kicked over instruments in the music room, trashed his birthday presents, and literally held a g*n up to August's face, so I thought "ok maybe not too OOC".

now this is just a very sad drabble of what could be a missing moment starting right after s3e5 ends (but what i hope is not actually a missing moment because it is Very Sad).

read below the cut if you're interested... sorry... (cw: wille is very upset and throws some stuff)

“My mamá’s here,” Simon said softly. As he collected his things and moved towards the door, Wille stood from the bed. He watched Simon take a deep breath, shoulders rising then falling into a slump. One step through the door frame and Wille followed. How could he not? If Simon was really leaving, he had to–

Simon turned back and met Wille’s eye, then looked away. He gave a slight shake of his head. Wille froze in his spot. Simon didn’t turn back again. The click of the door closing was deafening in his quiet bedroom. 

Thinking back, Wille couldn’t remember how long he stood there. He also couldn’t remember how he ended up in Erik’s room, but he did. Somehow, he came back into his body and found himself standing, barefoot and teary-eyed in his brother’s room. He hadn’t been in there in months. Everything still looked exactly the same. The same perfectly made bed, the same perfectly crisp military jacket, the same perfectly organized desk. Everything exactly the same except now Wille saw it in a new light. It was all too perfect to be real. There were secrets in the closet, tucked under the mattress, buried in the curtains. He thought back to the phone call, the way his father had praised Erik, had said he didn’t have that same darkness. He thought back to the dinner, the way his mother had only talked about Erik, how she couldn’t even look at him. He thought, too, back to all those times he’d heard Erik laugh at August’s offensive jokes. 

Everything in the fucking world was fake, even Erik. The knowledge that he’d suffered so much trying to live up to his brother’s perfect standard. All the disapproving looks from Mamma, the ‘stop being so selfish’ from Erik. His brother had told him he could trust August and that was a lie. He’d said to listen to the third years and that was a death wish. He was doubting everything now. Would Erik have even cared about the video? Would he have sided with Mamma? He knew he was just working himself up; too exhausted, too many emotions after such an awful day, but he couldn’t stop himself.

Wille stepped forward and angrily ripped back the sheets of the bed, sending pillows flying. He pushed over the desk chair. He grabbed a portrait of some old noble off the wall and chucked it. He kicked at the wall, tore at the curtains. He sobbed and yelled and knocked a picture frame off the desk. Tiny shards of glass went skittering across the room. He grabbed the stupid frog prince ceramic from Erik's desk. He raised it above his head, gearing up to smash it on the ground.

When he looked up, he met his own eyes in the mirror. Eyes swollen, face red and streaked with tears, he tried to look away but couldn’t. Everywhere else there were pictures of him, or him and Erik, as children. He and Wille, practically babies, crawling on a fence somewhere outside. Him, climbing on a playground, holding a toy. He and Wille, arms around each other, laughing. 

Wille wanted to punch the mirror. He wanted to feel it shatter under his hands and to send the pictures falling to the ground. He wanted to scream. He wanted his fucking brother back. He wanted to ask Erik about the initiation, about the video, about the truth.  

He couldn’t have those things though, and would never get them. 

He put the frog prince back on the desk.

Slowly, he picked his way across the floor. 

Some hours later in the early-early morning, a housekeeper found him there, surrounded by broken glass, curled up in Erik’s bed, asleep on top of the messy sheets. 

[motorcycleboy9]

me when I'm a professional people judger (I'm so fucking scared of people judging me)

[zahra-hydris]

my baby is currently under anaesthetic, having an operation on her kidney

and I feel... lost

[thistableforone]

ted lasso | 1.08 + 3.03

[silent-lily]

/sighs dreamily

JohnKat.

[mazeinthemiroh]

i legit thought my cat café lee know fic had been deleted. you know, the fic i am most proud of??? the link wasn't working and i literally was about to die because WHY WHYYYYY but it's fine now i managed to find it. BREATHEEE, BREATHING IS GOOD

[xhda1449x]

ocd is such a funny disorder it makes you extremely terrified of the stupidest things and the one way to deal with it is just. To be terrified some more. Love this

[daisyofwaterdeep]

had a dream I went to a hozier concert and mr. hozier stopped singing and pointed to me in the crowd and asked me to go get him some extra crispy tofu and a blueberry shake for after the show and then the crowd passed his debit card to me and when I got it I could see his real legal name was Horace Bob-omb

[knockknockwhosthereartistism]

The worst trauma comes from those who you love

[inbabylontheywept]

i did wrestling in middle school. on one hand, i was actually quite good at it, which was nice. being good at any sport was a new achievement for me. on the other hand, i was bi, and i was trying very hard not to notice that i was bi, and getting folded into knots by very kind, very muscular dorks made that task somewhat difficult.

adding fire to the problem was that my parents and my grandparents wanted to watch my matches, because they were very proud that their Gangly Nerd Son was actually Sporting, and they wanted to cheer me on. which would've been sweet and all, but if there are four people you do not want there during a key part of your Burgeoning Sexual Awakening, it is your mom and your dad and your grandma and your grandpa.

right? i mean, imagine some guy's got your head in his armpit, and you're going you know, old sweat smells bad, but fresh sweat has a sort of and then you make eye contact with your grandpa in the stands and you remember you're swearing spandex so if you pop a boner people aren't just going to be able to see the outline, they're going to be able to count the veins, and the only way you will be able to restore your family's honor after that would be by moving to siberia and renouncing joy, forever. that, or lift your entire body up by your kneck then twist 180 degrees without paralyzing yourself.

it’s a lot of pressure, is what i’m saying.

still it did motivate me to win my matches really fast. because i was so tall and skinny, i was stupidly good at the double leg takedown, and then once someone was knocked down, i'd just do the half nelson and kind of flip em over for the pin. then the ref would count to three and i’d win. EZPZ.

i had one match where that went great. won in the first ten seconds, sat back down, and prepared myself for a good hour or two of doing fuck all. didn't even feel bad the parents/grandparents were gonna be bored. the matches went up from me in 5 pound increments (i was in the 115 lbs division) and it was going great until we got to the 145 lbs division. the other school's wrestler stepped onto the mat, and she turned out to be a girl so our guy flipped, because for straight guys, wrestling a girl is not a pleasant experience.

i'm not entirely unsympathetic. my experience wrestling dudes was definitely a little traumatic. but also, i dealt. guy could've dealt too. instead, he refused to wrestle, and the coach went - fine. not even worth fighting over.

so he went to the 140 pounder, and that guy said, nosir, my mom said mormons can't wrestle girls. next guy down, 135 pounder, now he knew he could pull the same card and thus did. 130 pounder, 125, both tapped out. he got to the 120 guy, and that guy was catholic, but he said he was considering being mormon, and thus would have to pass. as a precaution.

coach blew up a little at that. he said "is there anyone - anyone - on this entire goddamn team that is willing to wrestle a girl?" and then he pointed at me and said "YOU. MAT. GO."

and i'll be real, if i'd been paying more attention, i'd have pulled the mormon card too, but i'd just been putting all that audio into a buffer file because i was reading, so i was halfway across the mat before i even processed what had been said and by then it was too late to turn back.

still i had a plan. and my plan - my beautiful, perfect plan - was to do what i'd always done. tackle, flip, pin, win. sit down. read. bore my family to death. move on.

i got the first part right. she was bigger than me, but she wasn't taller. just an incredibly stout woman. god built me like a snake with glasses, just as he built her like a combat cube. the problem was the half nelson. soon as she was down, i tried hooking my arm under hers from behind and for both genders, the defense for this move is just clamping your arms really fucking tight against your sides. if you're a guy, that's whatever, but if you're a girl - especially if you're god's chosen combat cube - that pins your opponents hand right against your boob.

so, i got the hook in, she clamped, my whole arm pressed against something soft, my coach was yelling THE HALF NELSON. BABYLON! JUST FINISH IT! FINISH THE HALF NELSON! and i was just trying to press hard enough to finish, when then my brain went

...oh.

and i flipped out. of course i flipped out. i like girls, and touching a boob is an elemental experience, and i was not ready. i was not prepared. i had not committed the sacred rites. i recoiled like i'd just brushed my arm against the surface of the sun, stood up, and backed away. nobody in the room knew why i'd given up. all they saw was me, right about to win, suddenly flailing around and scrambling. so everyone started screaming at me to just get the half nelson again, and i couldn't really yell back there's a fuckin' boob in the way and it was very distressing, and the only way i could think of to make them stop was just doing it over again the right way.

so i did.

i hunkered down and prepared myself for Wrasslin' Attempt #2: The Sequel.

i knocked her down again, EZPZ. i went for the half nelson again, but she knew what i was about to do so she super clamped, and i knew she was gonna super clamp, so i wound my arm back like a pop-eye cartoon punch before swinging my arm through the gap between her bicep and her side, but the amount of time i spent winding back super signalled what i was about to to do, which gave her time to clamp even harder, which somehow redirected the entire force of the popeye punch to the bottom of her bra.

it spat out a single boob the same way an action hero might spit out one single tooth after getting a solid crack across the jaw. as if to say:

*ptooie.* "that all you got?"

i did not actually see this. my experience was that first there was an arm, then there was a bit of boob, but i was braced, i was ready, forward at all costs, tatakae motherfuckers, and then the boob went away, and i didn't know where it went but my team, and the audience, and everyone who was in front of me, they all gasped like i just kicked them in the stomach. except for my coach. he was behind me, and thus one of the four people in the room who did not see the boob. now my mom, my dad, my grandma, and my grandpa, they all got flashed but nooooooo, coach thunderbutt was behind me, and he didn't see shit so he was still yelling NOOOOOO BABYLON WHAT ARE YOU DOING JUST FINISH THE NELSON! GO FOR THE KILL! BABYLON! BABYLON!

but i did not go for the kill. i stood up and she stuffed her boob back real fast, and we just kind of circled each other awkwardly until time ran out and i won on points. that's not technically allowed, but the ref had some mercy on me.

my coach did not.

i barely had time to sit down before he strode over to the bench to chew me out.

"babylon," he said, in that very calm way people get when they're too pissed to yell. "why didn't you pin?"

and i didn't know how to say well coach, i tried, but there was a boob, and it kept getting in the way, and my mom was watching, and so was my dad, and so was his dad, and his mom, and god (like bible god) and that's a can of worms because i'm pretty sure he was already mad at me, and i'm wearing spandex, and i think i might have to move to siberia, so instead i said

"i uh. i forgot how to do the half nelson."

which is actually impossible. forgetting how to do the half nelson is like forgetting how to swallow your spit.

and he looked at me, like i was the dumbest person in the entire world, and i looked through him like i'd just survived my 250th day in a trench at verdun, and he said: fine.

fine.

but we're all going to practice it for an hour tomorrow because you forgot.

and then he left.

and my buddies had the gall to be salty about it. i got so many comments saying "dude, why didn't you just tell him the truth?" and i said "you can if you care so damn much. you could've wrestled the girl too. maybe someone else should do the hard thing today."

but they didn't. so the next day, we did an hour of half nelson drills, and i spent a decent amount of time getting thrown around the mat, and it was pleasant in exactly the way that i hated and the year after that, to the surprise of everyone but myself, i quit wrestling and joined the trivia team.

and if you want more reasons to love my mom, my grandpa joked after the match that i might have to talk to my bishop about it, and my mom told him he would be allowed to make jokes after he stood in front of a crowd of 110 people in spandex underpants while wrestling a woman that was not his wife.

he paused for almost five seconds after that. then he said: aw. hell. sorry babylon.

and i'd have preferred my apology from god, but getting it from him was pretty good too.

[lo-fag]

idk man. i just think itd be really cool if sign language classes were mandatory throughout primary school. yeah because it would make communication with deaf kids and autistic/nonverbal kids much easier. and those kids would be accessible to the others so they could make friends and have healthy relationships. yeah. and kids would eat that shit up man. like their own little secret language? they love that.

[lesbianralzarek]

"life doesnt get better, you just get stronger" does NOT include ages 11-17. life does in fact just get better from there. those years are dogshit. like, you do get stronger but its mostly just a factor of not being 11-17 anymore. positive thinking helps but it doesnt fix whatevers going on at 15, you have to brute force through that one raw

[edgebug]

the thing that sucks most about Joanne Rowling being a terf is that she is actively hurting real life trans people every day.

the second worst thing about joanne being a terf is that the Harry Potter intellectual property is So Much Larger than her. look at the credits for just one of the harry potter movies. every single one of those people put YEARS of time and effort and dare i say love into those films. think of all the people involved in theme park design and operation who put together the wizarding world park lands and detailed them so lovingly and fully

and yet even though the intellectual property of harry potter is so much larger than joanne, she's poisoned the whole well

i feel so. so immensely sorry for every person involved in the harry potter ip who isn't jkr. doubly sorry for every trans person involved. it's fucking sad

[pretty-good-girl]

Overstimulation and/or Edging? 🥵

No | rather not | I dunno | I guess | Sure | Yes | FUCK yes | Oh god you don’t even know |

Yes, please.

Also edging that leads into overstimulation where you keep getting denied and then your dom says 'if you wanna cum you can cum' and doesn't let up until you lose count.