#i pay whatever it takes to make this happen !!

[itsrlymine]

Ignoring Reality Makes No Sense When You Are Reality

Pay attention to the 3d because what you say about it tells you where you are in consciousness. If you know the outer world is based on your inner world, you don’t need to ignore it. If anything you should laugh bc Mrs. 3D really thought she was doing something like girl bye. 

This notion that you need to "ignore reality" in order to get what you want is wack asf and it pisses me off honestly. Why would you ignore reality when you are reality itself? When somebody calls you by your favorite nickname, are you gonna ignore them because you like that name or will you answer since it’s your name???? 

The 3d is a reflection of old and present thoughts and your state of awareness. How you respond internally is what determines what is happening externally. Change the meaning to what you “see” with your physical eyes and see with your mind’s eye that which you are now choosing to experience. Are you gonna ignore your sp, new money, house or car now bc they are in your 3d???

Your reality/3d only becomes real when you are getting what you want? Are you serious? Who told you that? You need to stop listening to that person. The 3d is you. So if reality isn't real, that means you aren't either boo. How can you be reading this post right now if the 3d isn't real?? Are you dreaming right now or something? Don't take people's advice just because they might be popular or get a lot of attention. Listen to what they say and actually see if it makes sense. Most of the times it doesn't. If you want to ignore reality, go ahead and ignore yourself for a week and see how that goes.

There were times people would tell me I couldn’t have something or do something because it’s too expensive or whatever and every time I’d respond back in my mind like “no wtf. It’s cheap asf actually.” I used this to lower my rent (somebody pays it for me now) and medications costs and ofc flights. Literally anything I want because I have come to understand that it’s just me. 

Similarly, it’s just you in your reality. The 3d is you and you shouldn’t fear it. Let it remind you of who you now are— the creator that has everything they want. Giving her power and trying to act like she isn’t there makes zero sense. Now that you have all your desires, are you gonna act like they are not real because you can “see” them in the 3d? No. That would be stupid and nonsensical.

[joequiinn]

The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | epilogue

[chap seventeen] | [all chapters here]

Story Summary: You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

notes & tropes: fem reader, slooow burn, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, dysfunctional family dynamics, idiots-to-lovers, smut & nsfw themes

a/n: Well, we've finally made it, everyone, and I'm feeling emotional about it. This epilogue is just a lil something I thought up while I was considering what the future would hold for Eddie and ice princess, and I love it dearly.

wc: 3.2k

Epilogue

September 1985

I want to be somewhere big and interesting. New York, L.A.… fuck, even Florida for all I care, I just want out of Hawkins, out of this town.” “Then I guess we’ll be those high school sweethearts that run off to L.A. together after graduation, huh?” “Oh, I’m sure.”

September 1987

Eddie should’ve been home by now. You’d memorized his work schedule within his first week of starting at VIP Records, so you knew his shift always ended at 6pm on Tuesdays - so where the hell was he? It was nearly 8:30, and you’d been getting more and more antsy as the minutes ticked by, worrying over what could possibly be delaying him like this.

So much had happened in the two years since you and Eddie began dating back in Hawkins - your world had changed so much that sometimes you felt like a completely different person. It started with some big things, like reintroducing Eddie to your parents and begging them to start fresh with him - though your father resolved to never show any warmth to your boyfriend, at least your mother was kinder.

You decide that you wouldn’t be going to college following graduation, instead wanting to take a year to work, which was yet another thing your father didn’t warm to. Somewhere amidst that decision and the subsequent string of arguments that followed, you found yourself spending more nights with Eddie and Wayne than you did with your own parents, until one day you realized you had informally moved into the Munson home. So, by the end of summer ‘86, you were out of your parents’ house and working full-time to save up for whatever may come next (and to pay rent, despite Wayne’s insistence that it was entirely unnecessary).

You weren’t sure who proposed the idea first, but you and Eddie had decided one day that you were going to move out to California. Initially, this was just some fantasy for the two of you, something to give you hope that you’d hightail it out of Hawkins one day, but over time that fantasy started to look more and more real until finally you agreed that maybe the idea wasn’t half bad at all.

So, you began to set aside more cash, began to look into neighborhoods and cities around Los Angeles, began to tell everyone that the two of you would be leaving town soon enough. No one really believed you at first - all your friends were in support of the idea, but they didn’t think it was particularly realistic. And when you mentioned it on one of the very rare occasions you saw your parents anymore, your father had the gall to laugh right in your face. That, of course, only bolstered your resolve to get the hell out of Indiana, and a lot of your freetime was slowly consumed with library visits to figure out how exactly to make this move happen.

You and Eddie finally made the leap a few months back, spending a couple weeks road tripping your way across the country, finally arriving in Los Angeles with only your most important earthly belongings and little else. Leaving Hawkins had been harder than you expected - leaving Wayne being the hardest - but you found California to be utterly refreshing, to fit you almost like a glove.

After living out of a hotel for a while, you found this cozy little apartment down in Long Beach, and you’d been content ever since; sure, it wasn’t perfect and the neighborhood wasn’t impressive, but it was your space, and that made it just right for you and Eddie. You both got jobs to hold you over for a while, you started visiting bars and venues, hell, you even found a stray cat that you quickly adopted without a second thought.

You’d been leaving the dollar theater after seeing a re-release of Labyrinth when the little calico found you - something about the film, and David Bowie, had totally mesmerized you when it came out the year prior, and Eddie was happy to take you to the special showing that night. So, when this cat approached you curiously and began weaving playfully between Eddie’s ankles, you were both immediately smitten. You named the cat Sir Didymus only to discover it was female a few weeks later, but it suited her rascally personality just fine, and thus her name stuck.

And now here you were, five months into your new California life and driving yourself crazy over where the hell Eddie was and why he was late to return home.

You called the record store and asked if maybe he was working late and forgot to mention it, but his coworker informed you that Eddie clocked out right on schedule; he mentioned that Eddie seemed eager to leave, but didn’t have any further information for you. On the one hand, it made you worry that something had happened, but on the other, you were annoyed that he had possibly made plans without telling you, as unlikely as that may be.

You’d tried to think of all the places in town that he could have gone to, but nothing seemed particularly viable - he wouldn’t have gone to a show without you, wouldn’t have gone to the store without you, wouldn’t have gone anywhere without you. Not unless he was keeping some kind of secret, but you couldn’t fathom what that might be.

Considering that today was your birthday, you had originally thought maybe he was making a special stop to get you flowers or a cake or a last minute gift; it was so like Eddie to do that, even after you insisted he didn’t need to get you anything at all. But once 7 o’clock hit, and then 7:30, and then 8pm, you began to doubt this original line of thought and assume the worst instead. 

Decidedly, a few minutes past 8, you’d thrown on one of Eddie’s sweaters and your shoes, and made the short trek down to the convenience store on the corner - the two of you were in there practically every day, so maybe one of the employees had seen him. The familiar night clerks greeted you, but when you asked about Eddie’s whereabouts, they didn’t have a clue, which made your worries grow even more. As if to put your mind at ease, they gave you a free 6-pack and said they’d call you if they saw him.

You returned back to the apartment to Sir Didymus crying for dinner, which made you realize you forgot to set out food for her earlier. Cursing to yourself, you filled her bowl and began to pace nervously, trying to consider where the hell Eddie could be. Did you forget about a show that he had previously mentioned? Or was he hit by a fucking truck? Maybe he got caught up chatting with a customer like he was one to do, or maybe he got fucking mugged. All possibilities were on the table, and you hated each and every one of them for causing you such worry and distress.

Prying open a window, you crawled onto the fire escape and lit a cigarette, hands shaky with anxiety as you pressed it to your lips. The night was relatively quiet for your neighborhood, which wasn’t saying much - there were always cars cruising up and down the road, music blasting from a nearby bar, and people constantly arguing in alleyways and backyards. But the noise was soothing in its way, reminding you that the world was constantly in motion and that Eddie was probably just caught up in it all.

Sir Didymus came to sit beside you, meowing as if she, too, was wondering where the hell Eddie was and why he wasn’t back home. You considered throwing on some clothes to go searching for him, but aside from the bar and the convenience store, there was nowhere in the area that he would be; moments like these made you wish you two hadn’t sold your car, because it would’ve been really convenient to have right about now.

Each time you heard tires screeching or saw headlights shining down the road, you craned your neck to get a better look, but it was never Eddie. You’d already nervously polished off two cigarettes and were lighting up a third; Sir Didymus had retired to sleeping on the pile of blankets that she commandeered within a few days of moving in.

As you were caught up in your anxious thoughts, you thought you’d heard metal music from somewhere nearby, muffled and far off, but it caused your ears to perk; when you realized that it was specifically a Dio song playing, you immediately shot to your feet, clambering back through the window while dropping your cigarette into the ashtray.

Without bothering to slip on shoes, you rushed out onto the breezeway connecting all the little apartments in your complex, gripping the rails as you tried to find the source of the music, which was obviously louder from this side of the building. The street in front of your complex was crowded with cars, so if the music was Eddie’s, he must have had to park way down the block; eventually, the music stopped, and you became more anxious by the second.

When finally you spotted Eddie walking up the sidewalk towards the gate, you all but rushed down the stairs to meet him halfway; Eddie smiled largely, clearly not able to make out your concern under the flickering lights illuminating the path. A glare grew in your eyes as you realized he looked just fine; in fact, it seemed he stopped by the store, if the grocery bag in his hand was anything to go on. He held up his arms to greet you, but before he could get a word out, you hissed while jabbing him in the chest.

“Where the hell have you been?” Your eyes were alight with panicked concern, and you didn’t realize until that moment that you were on the verge of relieved tears. You swallowed, determined to hold them back, “It’s almost 9 o’clock, Eddie, I was worried out of my fucking mind.”

Eddie’s face fell, arms drooping at his sides; he didn’t expect you to have gotten so worked up over him not returning on time. He thought he could surprise you, that he could do something nice for your birthday, but the utter panic in your expression told him otherwise. He dipped his head down towards yours, hoping that he could sooth all the stress that had bubbled up inside you.

“I should’ve called--”

“No shit.”

Eddie clenched his jaw a little, taking a breath - he wasn’t about to get upset with you, he wouldn’t let himself, “Let’s go upstairs, okay?”

The impulsive side of you wanted to argue with him right here and now, wanted to grill him about why he didn’t come home and what he was doing. The more patient part of you, however, held back, shaky breaths heaving in your chest as you nodded with a twisted expression. You spun around on your heels and marched up the stairs, crossing your arms with a scowl; Sir Didymus sat just outside your open door, curiously waiting for you both.

Following just a step behind you, Eddie sighed to himself as he took in your rigid posture, realizing that he should’ve thought this through - after all, since your move to Long Beach, the two of you were essentially attached at the hip, doing absolutely any and everything together. Of course you would worry when he didn’t come home, when he didn’t call or give you a heads up - but, again, he’d just been hoping to surprise you, and hadn’t considered that a few hours would get you as stressed as you were now.

Back in the apartment, you took large strides towards the open window and retrieved your cigarette from the ashtray. To calm yourself down, you began to pace, watching as Eddie closed the door behind him and waited there a moment as if to collect his thoughts; when he turned to face you, you quickly looked away and took a deep drag.

“God, Eddie, I’m trying not to be mad, okay, I was just so worried and I thought maybe there was something you were keeping from me or that maybe you were in an accident or even dead in a fucking ditch, and I know it’s ridiculous to get so worked up over only a few hours but--”

“You can be mad.” He interrupted the inevitable rambling that was about to commence.

You had always struggled to express emotions considering the household you grew up in, so these past two years with Eddie had been a learning experience for you, which led to your feelings often spilling over when they became overwhelming. You shot him a confused look, still struggling to this day with the idea that it was okay to feel something; you bit your tongue so that you wouldn’t keep babbling, trying to collect your thoughts.

“I should’ve told you where I was,” Eddie started, walking the short distance from the front door to the kitchen, gently dropping the grocery bag atop the counter, “but I wanted to surprise you.”

You laughed smally, feeling stupid for getting so worried over seemingly nothing. Shaking your head, you took a deep drag from the cigarette and turned to face the window, eyes unfocused as you looked around. You dropped your head, beginning to feel more and more stupid the more that you thought about it; you could hear Eddie coming up slowly behind you.

“Get out of your head,” He instructed gently, to which you laughed again, “You’re probably already kicking yourself, am I right? As if you did something wrong?”

You narrowed your eyes at his reflection in the window - fuck, he knew you too well. Slowly, you turned to face him again, but you kept your gaze on the floor. Eddie took another couple steps closer, waiting for you to eventually look up at him.

“I’m sorry, princess.” He said simply, and the pet name nearly caused you to smile fondly; even after all this time, it stuck, and you figured it wasn’t going anywhere. You could tell in his voice that Eddie saw you resisting to grin, “I should’ve called, I just got caught up in the surprise.”

The corner of your mouth pulled up, and you looked at Eddie carefully through your lashes; his smile was gentle and sweet, eyes far more adoring than you thought you really deserved. Swallowing your trepidation, you asked smally, “What surprise?”

Eddie’s smile grew larger as he cocked his head, “Your dual birthday-anniversary surprise.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, relief slowly relaxing your shoulders as you took a final small inhale of the cigarette before tossing it out the window, “My birthday is not our real anniversary and you know it.”

You smiled fondly at the memory of meeting each other at that picnic table behind the football field, at the crazy fake dating scheme you had that ultimately led you to where you were now. It felt like a lifetime again that senior year happened, and yet it still felt as if it was only yesterday.

“So maybe we have two anniversaries.” Eddie teased fondly, his eyes taking you in as if you were still a breath of fresh air to him. Under those soft, adoring eyes, you could feel your ears growing hot even still.

You sighed affectionately with a shake of your head, crossing your arms as a gust of wind came up through the window; being near the beach, the air was always unexpectedly cold at night. As you took in the always pleasant sight of Eddie, you realized he had a bandage just above his collarbone, which caused your brow to furrow with concern as you looked between it and his face.

“What happened?” You asked, closing the gap between you two so you could worry over whatever the hell was on his neck; you wondered if maybe he nicked himself shaving, but the bandage seemed far too large for that. Did he hurt himself at work?

As you reached for the bandage, Eddie laughed, capturing your wrists in his hands before you could touch his neck. You met his eyes with confusion, to which he simply shook his head.

“That’s the surprise.”

Your expression deadpanned, “You getting hurt is the surprise? Geez, babe, how romantic.”

Eddie laughed again, fondly rolling his eyes, “Not hurt in the way that you think.”

Clearly enjoying your confusion, Eddie released your grip and reached for the bandage, hissing a little as he tried to gently peel it off. Your jaw dropped in both surprise and confusion at the injury beneath it, not prepared for what it would be.

It was a tattoo, though that wasn’t the surprising part, considering that Eddie was slowly becoming covered in them. No, what took you aback was that the tattoo was quite clearly your lips, done in a shade almost identical to the lipstick color you’d been trying just the day before. You stared dumbly at it, as if you couldn’t quite compute it, as if you didn’t quite think it was real.

When you finally managed to draw your gaze back up to Eddie’s face, he was smiling from ear-to-ear, eyes twinkling with clear delight at your stunned expression. You opened and closed your mouth a couple of times as you tried to find your voice again, eyes rapidly looking back and forth from the tattoo to his face and back again.

“You… got a tattoo for me?” Your tone was one of disbelief; saying it out loud made the moment more real, and suddenly your throat felt tight as if you could cry.

Eddie nodded with pride, “You like it?”

You stared at the replica of your lips, recalling the evening prior when you’d been testing out make-up samples that you’d gotten from work. Eddie always enjoyed watching you apply make-up, and of course lipstick was his favorite part; when he commented on a shade that he seemed particularly fond of, you leaned over and planted a loud, silly kiss at the base of his neck.

Considering that you crawled out of bed hours before him to get to your shift at the make-up counter, you didn’t see whether or not he’d ever cleaned the lipstick off; evidently, he must have worn it like a badge of pride all day until he could finally get down to the tattoo parlor and make it permanent.

Shaking yourself from your reverie, you looked at Eddie lovingly, your eyes a little more wet; god, you’d gotten so much more emotional since he entered your life, it was nearly ridiculous. Or maybe you’d just become more vulnerable, far less skilled at holding back when it was just the two of you alone.

You cupped his cheeks gently, being extra careful not to go near the fresh tattoo, “God, I love you.”

The smile he gave you was dazzling, mesmerizing even, “I love you, princess.”

You drew his lips down to yours, resting your forehead gently to his; Eddie hummed contently, whispering a tender “happy birthday” against your lips before kissing you fiercely.

.

.

addt. a/n: I'll try to keep this short and sweet. Thank you to everyone who has read this fic and watched it grow, to those that have been commenting and messaging with each update, and to all the incredibly fic writers I've met through this story! And, of course, a HUGE THANK YOU to my dear @eddiernunson for being so invested - you've helped me developed so many ideas, and it's truly warmed my heart to see someone else love the ice princess as much as I do <3 If anyone would like to be tagged in any future outings these two may have in store, please let me know!

@3rd-conchord @a-queen-blr @adelalaaa @adversary713 @avalon-wolf

@costellation-hunter @daisy-munson @daisyridleyss @damon-loves-pie @damp4eddie

@dreamerjj @eddiernunson @feralgoblinbabe @frogtape @fromasgardandback

@fckyeahlames @graciehams @kellsck @kthomps914 @littlexdeaths

@lotrefcp @love-anonymous-writer @marrowfrog00 @maskofmirrors @mewchiili

@miaajaade @miss-celestial-being @mmmunson @moonisu @munsonssweets

@no-bueno-writer @nxrdamp @ollieolive @rach5ive @sapphire4082

@sav12321 @seatbacksandtraytables @sheneedsrocknroll92 @steeldaisies @stormgrl19

@teethvenom @tvserie-s-world @twihard28 @urlivingdeadgirl @v1per1ne

@wefracturedmotivation @welcometohellsock @whats-my-question @xxsxdghxstxx

[3liza]

everyone arguing with material analysis/assertion about how art is a "luxury" has rarely if ever spent rent or food money on art, if they even pay rent or buy their own food, and if they did that would be considered extremely dysfunctional, and thats what i/we mean. artists are not providing a necessary service.

our plane crashes in the Andes and you are not particularly excited about my "can draw that Playboy centerfold of Marge Simpson from memory" like that is not an essential survival skill. lots of extremely skilled workers work in luxury artisan and craft jobs, it's not an insult to say even a very famous and very talented and influential artist is not producing a commodity necessary for the furtherance of human life. none of us are doing that, no matter how we stretch and strain the definitions of "essential" or even things like "morale" or "group identity". i will burn my copy of Finnegan's Wake to stay warm and thats what it comes down to.

i get foamy crazy snarling and biting about the idolization and obfuscation of what artists actually do because it is a labor issue! the public conception of artists as people possessed of a divine talent they dont consciously work to develop like any other skill, and the public idea that we are simply pleased and privileged to make art all day and "not work", something people say to my face every time i get asked "what i do", is largely responsible for the absolute dogshit reality of how subsistence and working class artists have to survive. we usually dont have health insurance unless we're so poor we qualify for medicaid AND live in a state that will enroll us. most of us are too disabled or crazy to go to a real job every day. most of us have tried, over and over, to enter the normal workforce, and have failed, and been forced to develop alternate skills that allow us to make rent in the ten hours per month we're actually functional. many of the artists i know work from bed because standing up is dicey. this has been turned into a charming eccentricity of famous artists and writers instead of people wondering why a person would need to stay in bed all day and take the enormous bother of bringing their stupid pens and paper and writing board or typewriter or whatever to their bed instead of just getting up and getting dressed and going to work. ive done this, i spilled ink in my sheets. its a huge hassle.

and artists play along with this mystique because people dont want to buy paintings from sadlords! they want to buy paintings and books and marge simpson nudes from cool guys who get a lot of chicks and wear rockstar outfits and party a lot, because of the transitive properties! of course!!! this is basic marketing!!!!! and if the artist doesnt play along they turn into Sad Story Artist where they're doing emergency commissions and posting about how sick they are all the time. this is not cool or fun or sexy. it's a sand trap and its very hard to recover from. im struggling with this right now!

famous and successful artists and writers are constantly ending up 60-90 years old with cancer and multiple sclerosis and dementia, being the subject of some sort of public, last-ditch, humiliating GoFundMe because painting paperback covers fr 60 years means you dont get a pension, you often dont even have kids who can take care of you, you dont have life insurance, you dont have health insurance. 'died penniless and alone' is one of the stereotypical artist endings for a reason, that is not fiction. this happened to more artists than i can list on two hands. look up what happened to Peter S. beagle, the guy who wrote The Last Unicorn. you write a book like that you should be set for life, right? NO. thats not how it works

i'm not saying 'all artists are disabled and working class or poor' because that isnt true, observably. nepo babies and trust fund artists exist, obviously. but they take an outsized portion of the spotlight when the public thinks of the concept of "artist". they are not actually the norm. the average artist is probably making under 40k and living in extremely precarious circumstances and has had periods of homelessness, illness, extreme debt and/or bankruptcy.

this is true even for the 'successful' artists. having one or two or ten good projects and being a household name does not save you from just not having the safety net provided by a normal career path. i was very close with a major, famous 2000s network television creator and team that you have heard of. they won awards, they changed culture entirely, they were a big deal. one of them was turned down for a half dozen projects by the same network that made millions or bilions on their franchise over several years (each pitch is completely unpaid btw, imagine carefully preparing a PowerPoint for morons for months at a time for no reimbursement and thent he morons ask you if you can put a teenage witch looking for her lost cat in the alps in it and you're like, haha, well, it's a 4 part hard sci fi miniseries set on Europa and takes place entirely inside a pressurized lander settlement, i mean Ridley Scot said he was interested already and he pitched a bottle episode about a carbon monoxide poisoning, soooooo....and the executives look at each other and they're like "it's jst not really what we're looking for right now, thanks for coming in" and you go to coffee bean and tea leaf and kill yourself and thats sort of what its like. i made that example up it didn't actually happen i'm using an illustrative example), worked on a canceled film, and just. gradually ran out of money. thats what happens. that guy ended up slowly selling off all his belongings, getting roommates in a one bedroom apartment, and then eventually having to just live on a friend's couch for years. famous guy. you probably know his name. another major member of that same team ended up in GoFundMe/commission hell for years (might still be there) because they had to take care of their two dying, dementia patient parents by themselves. these are people who go to GenCon and sign autographs for four hours at a time. THE PUBLIC IS NOT AWARE OF THIS SHIT and i'm sick of it. im sick of going to a gallery opening night ("vernissage") and drinking bad wine and having a guy with an email job that pays six figures and benefits tell me being able to push "undo" on the computer is cheating. that's a real example, that has actually happened to me. more than once.

artists currently have zero labor protections whatsoever. all of us are undercutting each other in an unregulated market and relying on welfare and private insurance and not having families or buying houses. zero security until we get so old all our illnesses and dysfunction finally ground us permanently and then we get turned into a charity case by fans (humiliating) or just fade away into ghosts and die

whats my punchline? idk i dont have one. it's possible and likely that any given artist you meet is permanently in precarity and will be until they die, even the famous ones. the culture of selling art demands that artists do not admit to this in public unless shit gets really really bad. i guess my point is you should know this, as a person who looks at or listens to or reads things that people have made for your amusement, not for your survival

[senmiyaazx]

12 months and 365 days

Crowe x GN!Reader

context: memories of your first year spent in loneliness, and memories of your second year spent with crowe. (aka how you met crowe)

cw: a little self indulgent. mentions of bullying. self deprecating and social anxiety.

word count: 1673

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

It's your first day.

You're very nervous.

Of course, you finished high school before. But college was different.

And you didn't have anyone you knew here.

It's okay. You reassure yourself. You just gotta save up enough money to pay the debt, make a few friends and graduate. It's easy enough, right?

It's... your third day.

You haven't talked to anyone yet.

It's alright. It's only your third day.

You'll be fine.

Besides, there's this cool person you've been sneaking glances at lately. Hopefully you'll build up enough courage to talk to them!

Something gnaws at your nerves.

It's been two weeks.

Two weeks since you came to this city.

Two weeks spent alone at a table in a busy cafeteria. Two weeks of sitting in the corner of the classroom as if you don't exist.

It'll be fine. You can get by with no friends. You just have to pay the debt, and you'll be back home like nothing ever happened.

It's fine.

Three weeks.

You're paired up with someone for a group project.

They're nice. Really nice.

You found out you share a lot of common interests.

They ask to be friends. You accept.

You're really happy.

1 month.

Oh.

They've forgotten about you.

It's okay. You expected it so it didn't hurt much.

It seems they already had an existing friendgroup before you.

It's not your place to be upset. You were strangers after all.

It's okay. Just focus on your job. You'll be home soon.

Five months.

Why don't they ask you for a pen? You're right here.

You have complete school supplies. You always take notes in class.

The person in front of you asks your seatmate for a paper. They don't have one.

You did.

Why don't they ask you?

Why don't you talk to them?

You can't. Because you're too anxious. Scared.

Fear of getting judged.

It's frustrating.

College isn't so fun when you're doing it to save your only home. When you have no friends.

Seven months.

You've gotten used to it.

Sure, you can talk to your group mates just fine. Act friendly and all that stuff. But it never lasted long. Nothing ever did.

It's nothing too concerning now. You accepted the fact you were too much of a coward to just talk and reach out to someone. You're an outcast, and it'll stay that way forever.

Even if your inner self begged to be able to rant about your interests, your hobbies, your troubles.

Two more years of this hell.

Before you knew it, you're in your second year.

First day.

Nothing unusual. You're still alone.

It's boring.

Four more hours till you go home.

Second day.

There's this guy who introduced himself to you.

He seems friendly.

He told you his name, but you forgot. Oh well, it's not important.

Not like you two will be close anyway.

One week.

He keeps talking to you.

You learned his name now. Crowe.

You weren't exactly a jerk either, and it was rude to show your obvious disinterest in someone, so you tried your best to put on a smile as you listened to him.

It's awkward. He's aware of the tension in the air.

You feel bad, but it's okay. Give it a week and he'll move on.

Three weeks.

He. Won't. Leave. You. Alone.

What's wrong with this guy? He keeps acting all buddy with you.

You don't know him. He doesn't know you.

It annoys you how he acts like he does. How friendly he is with you.

You're sure he has some sort of ulterior motive.

Ah, whatever. It's not good to assume. At least you have someone sitting with you at lunch. Even if you're a little irritated.

Four weeks.

You volunteered to be a helper at the school gardens. It's good. Extra credits and a place for you to hang out. Alone.

Now you no longer have to be in the cafeteria.

Five weeks.

He found out about the garden. Keeps pestering you about it.

"Can I join? Can I help? I wanna see! Let's eat lunch there together!" He says.

It's.. so annoying. But you felt bad for him, so you accepted. Grudgingly.

Now you have someone pestering you in your comfort spot. Great.

He tells you he didn't expect you to be interested in gardening. You told him you lived on a farm. He's curious, but you refuse to tell more.

It'll be a waste of time if he'll forget about you in the end anyways.

Two months.

He's still there. He's weirdly persistent on being your friend.

You're starting to doubt yourself now. Had you judged him too much?

Still, it's hard to act friendly now when you've spent an entire year being ignored by everyone on the campus despite your attempts to communicate.

He doesn't seem to mind. You feel weird.

For once, you allow yourself to soften a little around him.

Three months.

It's been a terrible week. Burnout has caught up to you. You're in an incredibly tight budget and you're nowhere near halfway to your debt.

Is there really hope for you? Your father?

Right. You're doing this for dad. The farm.

You can't give up now that you've come so far, yet...

The frustration and stress is too much. He noticed this, of course. He's always so observant when it came to you. Noticing all the little changes and details that nobody else did. Not that anyone else paid much mind to you in the first place.

Still. It's weird. It makes you feel overwhelmed and a little overstimulated.

And it's because of the stress, you think. It's the stress and anxiety that you've been bottling up for years— and ended up lashing out on him.

He's hurt. You know it. You feel incredibly guilty.

You fucked up, didn't you? You always did. Now you lost the only person who actually liked you.

It's all your fault.

Three months and two weeks.

You haven't talked to him since then, despite his attempts to reach you.

You're the first to leave when the bell rings. You lock yourself up in the garden when it's lunchbreak. You dash out the school gates when it's time to go home.

You've seen the way he looks at you. Worry and pain plastered all over his face. It makes your stomach twist. You're guilty. You're aware of how much of a jerk you're being.

But you have no choice. After all, you were born to be lonely.

I'm sorry, Crowe.

Six months.

It's been so long. You're sure he's forgotten about you. Like you expected. It hurts, yet you ignore the pain.

One day, however, you're cornered.

You've always been an outcast. One that's genuinely forgotten by everyone.

Unlucky as you were, you never had to experience bullies in your life.

And now..

One of them pushes your bruised body to the ground. You shake. They laugh at you. Fuck people and their greed for superiority.

You hate it. Hate this. Hate yourself. Why can't you just get up and fight back? Are you really going to let them step over you like this when you're already miserable enough?

C'mon. Get up. Stand up!

Someone yells from a distance. That voice, all too familiar. One that makes your heart drop.

"Crowe?"

It all becomes a blur. You're on the ground, frozen in fear as you watched Crowe take the hits for you. Defending you as if you've known each other for years.

Why? Why would he do this? You don't understand. You don't understand him.

It's so damn annoying.

Slowly, you stand up. There's a rock nearby. You grab it.

And throw it against the bastard's head as hard as you can.

He passes out. His other goons turn around to face you with a murderous glare, and you tremble as they approach.

"One more step and I'll scream so loud everyone will think you're a serial killer." It's a stupid threat. You have no guarantee it'll work.

To your luck, it does. They turn away with a 'tsk' as they pick their friend up. It seems they don't want to cause any more trouble than they already did. Hypocrites.

You immediately turn to face Crowe with a harsh glare, striding towards him despite the pain in your body.

You grab him by the collar, bringing him close to your face as you yelled, confusion and pain evident in your voice. Desperation. "Are you stupid? Why the hell did you do that?! There's literally no reason for you to defend me, so why?!" You shake him back and forth. You shouldn't be doing this. Shouldn't be angry at him when he helped you.

You're just.. so damn lost.

He doesn't mind the way you take your anger out on him when he should. He should be annoyed with you. He should be as mad as you for getting angry when he's the one who helped you.

Instead, he laughs. He fucking laughs.

"Because you're my friend!" He grins stupidly, and you have half a mind to punch him the way those bullies did.

You don't. Instead, you let him go as you felt warmth rush to your cheeks and all over your body. Till your heart aches and leaves a stinging pain in your chest. Till the tips of your fingers tingle and leave your palms sweaty. Till your knees feel weak and you sit down on the ground with your head held in your hands.

"You're.. so annoying, you know that? You're fucking insane." Your voice was shaky. Yet you couldn't help the smile that crept up to your lips.

He stayed. He didn't forget about you.

You have a friend. His name is Jericho Ichabod.

Three years — present.

You're in the greenhouse. Brittney and the others are somewhere in the garden, doing their own thing. You're glad they're enjoying this little space of yours.

Crowe's saying something about flowers. You don't listen much, simply staring at him as you nod and smile.

You have a crush. His name is Jericho Ichabod.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

a/n: i've had this on my mind since the update. unfortunately I don't have any ideas for a sol fic yet:(

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

hello! i was wondering if you could do poly!plastic x reader where regina has a condition like anemia or is simply just sick and won't admit that she's sick or needs help till she eventually collapses. sorry if it's too specific and you absolutely don't have to do it if you fon't wanna! :)

The Date-

|| poly!plastics x nonbinary!reader

|| Warnings; mostly Regina's pov, mentions of throw up, Regina's sick and hiding it, Gretchen stands up to Regina (though briefly), Regina blacks out, brief swearing

|| Summary; when Regina wakes up, she finds she isn't feeling well. But holds out for the date later that evening.

Requests closed!

Started; November 13th

Finished; November 13th

+ Anon Request; hey can you do poly!plastics x reader where it's regina being sick or anemic (only her gfs know that) but would never admit if she's not feeling well because she has an image to "uphold." sorry if it's too specific! it's all gopd i you can't 😅

Author Note; i wrote her being sick, since that was easier for me to write 🫶

~~~

It wasn't often Regina George got sick. In fact, there was hardly ever a time where she was. Of course she's faked being sick a number of times, just like every other kid. But today she was not feeling great. Like, at all. Every time she took a step Regina felt like she would throw up. Or pass out. Or both.

But did she take the day off? No. Because there were things she genuinely wanted to do at school and after today. She wanted to see her girlfriends and partner. Plus, Regina was looking forward to their date tonight. She booked them reservations at a nice ass restaurant and it would suck to lose their spot. Considering the next wait was nearly two months. She wasn't about to wait forever again. So, Regina tried her hardest to look okay. She may have over done it a bit on the makeup, but Regina hardly cared right now.

Despite feeling sick, Regina still took the time to pick up all of you. You, Gretchen and Karen. None of you noticed the signs at first. Gretchen thought she maybe saw a grimace, or was it a scowl? Sometimes it was hard to tell with the blonde. She did try keeping an eye on her, though it didn't take long before Gretchen was distracted by Karen's lips.

Being at school was probably the worst part of it. She skipped a lot of her classes. Regina ended up spending most of her day in the bathroom, just in case she threw up. Because there was no way she would be listening to a teacher right now. No matter who told her to. She'd come out for lunch, hanging out with you and the girls. Trying to seem okay enough that no one would ask her any questions.

Regina managed to make it all the way until the end of the day. Where everything went wrong. Regina was walking next to you, on her other side was Gretchen and Karen. The four of you walking together. You held Regina's hand, rambling about whatever your latest interest was. And Regina tried to pay attention. She really, really did. But... everything went black.

She could vaguely hear the sounds of voices, though it was like she was separated by water. It was muffled, groggily. All around impossible to understand. When she finally came to, Regina was in the nurse's office at the school. Bucket at her couch side. You were next to her while Gretchen and Karen watched nervously. Hands and arms linked together. She groaned as she tried to sit up, but you put a hand to her chest. Keeping her down.

"No you don't," You murmured. Regina's eyes locked to yours and you could see the pain and nausea behind her eyes.

"What..?" Regina had started to ask what happened, but you answered before she could speak. Wanting her to save her strength. You gently brushed Regina's hair out of her face, hand cupping her cheek before you spoke.

"You passed out. Nurse said you looked feverish," You explained, Regina scoffed and rolled her eyes. Slowly letting herself sink into the couch a bit. Before her eyes widened.

"The date-" Regina said, once gain thinking about the reservations. You just smiled softly and shook your head. Looking to Gretchen.

"Absolutely not, those reservations aren't as important as your health." Gretchen put her foot down; which was rare for her to do. Especially to Regina. Though Gretchen's worry for her out weighed any fears.

"There were reservations?" Karen blinked, looking at Gretchen. She forgot all about it. Gretchen just sighed.

"Not for tonight." Her tone held a sense of firmness to it that sounded weird coming from Gretchen. Regina challenged her, knowing it usually didn't take much to sway the girl.

"Excuse me? We're going, I paid a shit tone for those spots. Besides, I'm literally fine. You're overreacting." Regina grumbled. Trying to keep hold of her image. She had to be fine.

You frowned at her, deciding to take over when you saw Gretchen tense up," we'll get a refund, baby. Go another time. But like Gretchen said, those reservations aren't as important as your health."

Regina did not look happy in the slightest. But she finally stopped fighting on it, mostly because she threw up in the trash can. And she was smart enough to know there would be no convincing after that.

[deesseshesca]

PAC : SITUATIONSHIP (NO.1) (18+)

Am I ignoring any dealbreakers?

One last time... I need to be the one that takes you home...

ALL READING ON SALE (70% OFF)

Y'all are 2 avoidant attachment style living the perfect relationship. Comforting each other, cuddling, PDA, popping up at each job or a from of each other house. Even making love to each other ... no labels is truly a bliss...

Am I ignoring any deal breakers?

PILE 1 

No

What's their energy on 'commitment' – is it giving 'ride or die' or 'ghosting ? 

They care for you. They have affection towards. You are their comfort place. The person they can vent when they need something but at the end of the day… they will never love you. You ain’t the one they want to change for. They are still hooked on a past situationship where the person they were dealing with was not settling for their bullshit. Requiring them to change. Having these big conversations, telling them and having faith in them for change. When it comes down to it, you are one of the best things that has happened to them and they want to keep you close for the intimacy and support y’all build for each other. They know they deserve more and you ain’t it…babe. 

PREVIOUS READING

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) ALL READING ON SALE (70% OFF) (Recent review 🎀)

PILE 2 

Y'all are on your period.

Am I ignoring any deal breakers?

Yes

What's their energy on 'commitment' – is it giving 'ride or die' or 'ghosting ? 

Your person is messy. ‘’ They almost 40 acting like little bitch’’. They act like they never had a good thing, a day in their life. They act like a child. They can’t choose what toy they want. Like they want the money so they dedicated all their time to their job. They are workaholics. Always putting work before you. There’s a meeting, work trip, a golf day, etc. They also want to be providers, that’s why you are there. They are paying your rent, bills, pet medical care and maintenance day. But you are giving BIG BOSS energy. You can get it on your own. You did not welcome them in your life for money. You wanted love, respect and good sex. Technically they are doing it but… they have yet to claim you (officially). Than what do you see on your timeline, they out here fucking stripper and flying out escort. Men you need to choose. What do you want ? Work, family or freedom ? Out here treating you like an option … smh.

1 ) PREVIOUS READING

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) ALL READING ON SALE (70% OFF) (Recent review 🎀)

PILE 3 

You left for college (even study abroad). You came back with your diploma reading to found a job in your hometown and excited to meet her/him again. Just to stare at the broken version of what you said goodbye a couple years ago. Is truly breaking your heart and all you want to do is nurture them.

Am I ignoring any deal breakers?

No

What's their energy on 'commitment' – is it giving 'ride or die' or 'ghosting ?

Is giving worshiping you. Is giving more than commitment … is giving devotion. They want to be somebody you can lean on. They want to be your provider and protector. They want to pour even more nourishing energy than you ever gave them. They want to be your safe haven. They want to evolve with you. They really want to build you a house. Wherever you want and you can decorate it whoever you want. They want to be the one you  call when your car is acting funny or you need help changing a light ball. Bring it on : the marriage, the engagement ring, the honeymoon, even the future children. They are on whatever you are into. They want to grow with you. They would love to go through couple therapy so they can get the tools to make this forever last. Y’all don’t have any problem but they want to ensure they are doing everything right.  

PREVIOUS READING

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) ALL READING ON SALE (70% OFF) (Recent review 🎀)

[kyoghurts]

⋆˚✿˖° call it love

pairing. mash burnedead/reader

several realisations are revealed on his birthday, but only one remains a little vague than the rest: he wants to have you all to himself, if only for this moment, why so? who knows, maybe you know the answer. for now, he's content to leave it unsaid, so long as you stay.

contents. fluff. short drabble for his birthday! @seneon i thought it was 11/11 yesterday when its actually today LOL. i love my silly creampuff luvr baby sm.

"what's this?" mash asks as he eyes the paper bag on your hands reaching for him.

you're someone whom he has shared the highest degree of intimacy, if that makes sense. but friends, yes. what he means is to say is that when he met you during chem potion class, he immediately took a liking when you said you love sweets with every fibre of your being. and what sealed this is that you had agreed to be his taste tester for his creampuff self-studies and practice baking sessions.

you're someone he really thinks is cool, but also a little weird for always being so nice to him. weird in a way an inexplicable hand presses against his insides warm and intruding, but he chose to stick close to you still, because the way you treat his creampuffs really takes him out. the way you take your time to bathe in the sweetness melting your tongue. you're weird for making this figurative hand within him engulf him, swelling of really gooey kind of warmth.

it doesn't make any sense, you're friends, but then he wishes you aren't.

and then you're here, giving him a paper bag large enough to stand out if he places it beside his dorm bed, you say, as though it should be obvious, "it's my gift, silly."

"what for?"

"mash. it's your birthday."

"oh."

he says without much thought. because he's too distracted at the faint scent of something sweet wafting his nose the moment he takes the bag. too distracted at the invisible hand starting to roam around inside his chest, prickles his skin, cheeks glowing in pinkish hue.

"i made lots. you can share them with your friend group too."

"no."

"…what?"

your heart dropped nearly in an instant, giving you a fright. he steps closer to you and clarifies, "you made it for me, i can only share it with you."

you're friends, right?

but why does he feel like he wants this part of you only for him?

he takes you by the hand and lead you to the school kitchen, where everything started. you can leave by retreating from his hold, since he isn't putting pressures in his fingers, but what makes him feel like he's on cloud nine is when you slide into each crook between fingers, firm and solidifying whatever this thing thats happening now.

like he's allowed to feel this way, like he's allowed to have you all to himself.

he places the bag at the dry counter, and you momentarily leave his side to grab two plates like clockwork. the sound of clatter fills the silence, yet you feel charged, fuzzy, like there's something hanging in the air you can't quite place. the familiarity of being next to mash in this private, sacred corner melds with the uncertainty of his unreadable stare.

the creampuffs emerge from the bag, lined up in rows, golden and perfect with a light dusting of sugar. mash's heart picks up it's pace, and if you weren't paying attention enough, you can see his eyes go wide in buzzing excitement.

you chuckle, "go ahead. before they get cold."

he doesn’t need further encouragement. picking up a creampuff, he takes a deliberate bite, eyes fluttering shut as the sweetness coats his tongue. he peels his eyes open to find you watching him, a small, expectant smile tugging at your lips. it’s your turn next—you reach for one and take a bite, savoring it just as you always do.

and mash can’t look away.

the hand inside him tightens its grip, a feeling that’s no longer warm but sweltering, and he knows nothing of it. it’s the kind of feeling that makes him want to pause this moment, keep it just for himself. the kitchen, the creampuffs, the way you glance up at him with crumbs on your lips—he wants to lock it away in a corner of his mind where no one else can touch it.

“is it good?” you ask, gaze searching his face for approval.

"it’s perfect,” he replies, the words coming out softer than he intended. he watches as a flicker of something crosses your face—relief, maybe, or something else entirely. it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced by that smile he’s come to know by heart.

time stretches without presence, without knowledge. the silence passes with your laugh, fleeting and breathy. you say, "you look like you're going to burst." mash realises he probably does—reddened ears and an almost-smile he can't suppress. somehow, he isn't good at hiding what he feels around you, not when it's this strong.

admittedly, and less sheepish, he nods, "maybe i am."

you blink, caught off guard but not pulling away.

he doesn't know when, but as he reaches for another creampuff, this time handing it to you, he knows it's been decided that in this inexplicable feeling in his chest, strange and warm and aching, he doesn't mind. he doesn't mind if this stays undefined, all he knows is that you're here with him. that you want to be in his space, sharing his highest form of intimacy.

he doesn't think about what it means in that brainless head of his. he just lets it happen. he just feels and feels and feels. because maybe, just maybe, he's allowed to.

as long as you're here, he's allowed to feel this way with you.

© kyoghurts ★ reblogs & likes are well appreciated!

[nerves-nebula]

sa ramblings under here, specifically about sa and pregnancy

nobody is asking for my opinion on this but its something i've thought about all my life. which is that i'd probably carry a rapists baby to term if i had the choice and resources at the time. cuz i want a kid and i don't want to have sex or pay for fertilization or anything. and if it already happened then. well. might as well get something i want out of it.

this is not a take about abortion btw. it's just something about me that's always been the case. i know that conservative freaks want to force people to give birth to rapists babies which is like. awful and disgusting. but it's always made me uncomfortable how people will go to the extreme opposite and say shit like "who would EVER want to CARRY their RAPISTS BABY that's DISGUSTING and EVIL" like idk. me i guess. what happened to it being about choice. you don't have to paint it as an inherently degrading and repulsive and weak thing to choose.

obviously this is hypothetical to me right now, maybe if it actually happened i'd change my mind. but i've been repulsed by the idea of having sex with someone for as long as i can remember, i would think about it a lot as a kid because i didnt WANT to have sex, but i DID want kids, and i did want to get pregnant, and i never knew if i'd have the money to use a donor. plus donors are like, their own whole bag of worms.

so like as a 13 year old i was basically thinking it was the only way to get what i wanted i guess? like i'd get a kid and not have to be stuck with a partner. and yeah i'd get raped, but at the time rape seemed almost inevitable, because my dad was so obsessed with telling me that i specifically was going to be raped.

anyway i might delete this later cuz i know no one on the internet can read, but it's been on my mind i guess. probably cuz my friend told me about people getting mad about a mouthwashing fan comic where anya kept the lil fetus lmao. i haven't seen it so i can't judge it but as someone who wants kids, regardless of how they come to me, i find the knee jerk reaction that its an inherently disgusting, degrading decision to make or write about a little weird. as though it would be conceding to the rapist somehow to decide to have the kid.

to me the choice to keep it or abort it has always been key, and it's the ability to chose that turns it into something empowering. which is why you should always have that choice and not be shame for it either way.

like, if you abort it it's like congrats! you flushed the parasite out of your system and don't have to fear or worry about that anymore! and if you keep it, it's like, someone tried to hurt me and i turned it into something to treasure. but if you don't have a choice either way, that's when it's horrific and degrading. whatever :p

[blakeswritingimagines]

Dating Yandere Stu Matcher Would Include:

As a Yandere he will be very possessive of you and only you..he will do anything to keep you to himself, if anyone tries to flirt with you, get close to you, or even go near you he will get very jealous and might resort to harming or even murder. He will be obsessed with you. He will constantly check up on you, be clingy, and always want your attention and be around you.

He may constantly watch you from afar and be a creep, and he might even stalk you. He may be violent and aggressive to other people because he will want you all for himself. he will be very obsessed with you, and he will be willing to do anything to keep you with him, including murder or even kidnapping.

He would be very controlling.. he will control what you wear, who you talk to, or what you do.. he wants you to only listen to him and do what he asks. He will never let you leave his side, never. If someone tries to take you away from him, he will attack.

He will be jealous of any man who so glances at you. He will get jealous over a man, friend, or even family member talking to you or even existing near you. He will be very jealous of anyone who even thinks of you. anyone who looks at you, glances at you, talks to you, or just is near you, he will get super possessive.

He acts all cool and nonchalant in front of others, he seems to look like a decent guy to others, very calm and chill, but all of that changes when he is with you. He acts different, he shows his true colors and obsession when you’re alone

He will be very reassuring and make sure you know you’re his and his only.. He will constantly make sure you’re with him, and always will be. He will ask if you love him, want him, and need him .. he will remind him that he’s the only one who can take care of you and only him. He will be the most reassuring guy.

He will give you love and attention, he likes to compliment you and give you praises, also may give you gifts like expensive clothes and he will want to pay for your meals, he will always be willing to spoil you rotten and be all over you, he will want to make you feel special and give you anything.. as long as you, of course, only look at him and look at no one else.

He will be aggressive and mean if you seem like you are getting close with another guy, he will slap you or be violent and say things to you like “don't talk to other men” and “you are only mine, and mine alone.” He will get very aggressive and very jealous. He will punish you physically and will do anything to make you stop talking to other men.

He will fight with you sometimes, especially if you disobey him, or if you ignore him, when you have a fight he will act like a baby and want you to come back to him and say “ please come back to me,” “I’m sorry, please don't be mad, I love you,” “I don't know what I'll do if you're gone from me," "I'm sorry,” "just come back to me," he can be very controlling and very jealous so I wouldn't advise to make him mad.

He is very affectionate and clingy, he will try to be touchy and hug and kiss you, he will tell you he loves you and give you praise, he shows tons of affection and will be all over you. He likes to compliment you and praise you. He will want to be touchy and clingy with you. He wants to let everyone know that you’re his and only his.

He will always try to be super romantic and take you on dates, take you out to eat, to the movies, shopping and want to buy you things, he wants to take you anywhere and wants to keep you all to himself. He likes to spoil you rotten. He will want to go somewhere where no other men are around.

Billy doesn't really care that much, at first he thought it was weird but he just sees it as whatever and thinks it's funny, he doesn't care, he thinks Stu is the clingy one and Billy just let's it happen because he is pretty chill and has no problem with it.

He has a shrine of you, he has photos of you, he has your hair strands he even has a few pieces of your clothing. He will talk to the shrine if you and Billy are not around.

He likes to watch you in your sleep, he wants to make sure you are safe and sleeping safely, he will watch you every night, also he likes to go in your room when you’re not around, and he loves to go through your stuff to find out more of you or take things for his shrine.

Also he has cameras around your house to keep an eye on you and make sure you are safe, he likes to go through your phone to see if you’re cheating on him or talking to any other men.

He will want to marry you as soon as possible, he really wants to have you be legally his, he wants to marry you so bad that he would marry you the second he can, he will plan every detail of the wedding, just so he can have you as his forever.

He wants to have kids as soon as possible, he wants to have as many children as you can have, as quickly as he can, he loves the idea of having your children as his, they would be his and only his as he dreams of having a family with you.

If you didn't want or couldn't have kids, that would be a major problem for him. He really wants kids no matter what, and if you can’t have kids, he’ll look at other ways to have them like adoption, but if you didn’t want any, he would be in a lot of distress and be upset he can't have children with you.

"I'll always protect you. No one can hurt you. I'll do anything for you. I'll kill for you. I'll die for you. I'll love you more than anyone else can. You're mine. My everything. Please, don't leave me." His words would convey both his intense love and his paranoia at the idea of anyone taking you away from him.

Control Over Daily Life - Once you have submitted fully, he asserts dominion over every aspect of your existence. This includes dictating your schedule, diet, attire, hygiene habits, and social interactions, ensuring you live solely to serve his whims and satisfy his needs.

Foreplay - Building up anticipation before actually engaging in sexual activity is a skill he's mastered. Teasing, touching, kissing, and stroking you until you're begging for release is an art form unto itself.

Bondage and Restriction - Securing you with ropes, chains, or restraints allows him to exert total control over your movements and sensations.

Breath Play - The delicate balance between oxygen deprivation and release is a thrilling high-wire act for him. Watching your face contort in a mix of fear and euphoria as he restricts your airflow is a sight to behold.

Cuckolding - Watching you get ravaged by Billy, maybe even serving as a cum dumpster while he sits back and spectates.

[lestappenwins]

I really hope they put max and charles together at the press conference in Hungary and ask charles about the rumors of him on red bull

i can imagine them joking about being teammates 😭

[koko2unite]

so many expenses this month and most of it isnt even for me :(

[talkorsomething]

I have Got to get more transgender

[medicinemane]

Should make a pain killer that actually kills (or even touches) pain

[micechicken]

I love how my unintentional excuse as to why Alestair and Idan never have to go to work is because they ran away and basically quit without notice.

[sonknuxadow]

okay sorry for having opinions on sonic shipping but . the more popular a ship is the more likely i am to be annoyed by it so its probably for the best that my favorite ship is one of the not as popular ones . but also the way sonknux gets talked about (or not talked about) as a result of it being less popular drives me up the wall . what do you mean it doesnt make sense. hes literally not staring at the moon and thinking about him💔

[nomairuins]

its so embarassing likee. going to talk abt a feeling you have but you already know ppl will be like Oh that sounds like depression lol and its like. well yes . i know . trust me i am so aware i am depressed . but its still like a thing ive been thinking abt and wanting to talk abt but ik itll just be like Ok hun 👍. idk idk what response i would want tho ig FNFNFNF