#itds almost 4am

[blessedshortcake]

i fucking. give up on this bullshit man

[othercrossee]

I like to think grusha is iridas descendant cuz that implication is hilarious

[sugarypinecones]

can you write matt sturniolo hide and seek smut

wait haiz i gave up on the hide and seek sorry i couldnt merge the ideas ill do hide and seek one day

warnings: afab reader, obviously vampire!matt, blood drinking, smut… um. he fingers her. hes kinda a freaking weirdo….

i don’t actually know who matt sturniolo is i just watch it when bff asks so probably ooc, i might have chosen the wrong triplet for the photo also. i lowkey forgot its supposed to be bridgerton also. so…

also Hi this sucks maybe ill do p2 to make up for it but itd 4am Im sleepy bye

a/n: haiz i hope you know i deserve a viktor edit for this, anyways hi

“Hello?” You murmur, peering through the doorway. It was late at night, and you couldn’t help the curiosity when you heard the rummaging in your father’s office.

The boy lifts his head. He hears you, of course. Noticing you, his eyes narrow, the void in them even more present. He doesn't move from his place.

You shouldn't be here.

It’s dangerous. This fact is as clear to him as the fact that the sun is going to rise.

Go, get out. As far away as possible.

You quickly come to recognize him as Matt, your father’s intern that occasionally stopped by for dinner — though usually stayed in your father’s dark office or whatever else. What a strange boy, was all that ran through your mind.

“Um… Matt?” You muttered, crossing your arms. Or, at least, you hoped that was his name?

Your voice brings him back to reality. The familiar soft-spoken tone is enough to soften his cold gaze.

Matt watches you closely, almost suspiciously, as he tries to come up with a logical explanation for your visit.

"Yes," He simply states. His tone still holds an edge.

“…Okay…” You mutter suspiciously, “does my father know you’re here?”

Matt’s mind races for a moment. No is the first answer that comes to his mind, but his instincts tell him not to say it.

"Does it matter?" He decides to ask back. "Why are you here? It's late for you to be wandering around alone."

“It’s my house,” you quip, narrowing your gaze.

The corners of his mouth twitch in an attempt to keep himself from smirking. A sarcastic one, but still.

"A strange hour for the Lord's daughter to be wandering around at night," He remarks dryly.

"Shouldn't you be asleep, princess?"

“Shouldn’t you get a job?” You scowl.

A brief snort, a sound that is so out of place, like it doesn't belong to him at all.

"Very funny. I have a job." As if to prove his point, he turns back to the paperwork on the table.

His tone gets a bit less curt and hostile, "Are you here for anything other than mocking me?"

“I wanted to know why you’re sneaking into my Dad’s study,” you take another step into the room.

"Sneaking in implies I wasn't invited," Matt mutters under his breath.

He watches you as you approach him warily, the shadows under his eyes deepening as his exhaustion grows with each passing minute. But he doesn't comment on it. Instead, he chooses to go a different way.

"Your interest is not appreciated. Go," He sighs, turning his attention back to the mess on the table again. If you get closer, you can see it's covered in notes in a foreign language, diagrams, drawings...

It's strange. Odd. Odd and intriguing.

You furred your eyebrows at the sight. This was not the work your father seems to tell the table about at night.

"Does my work interest you?" He asks, noticing your change in expression. His words carry a warning undertone, a silent, I wouldn’t get closer if I were you.

Matt knows exactly what you're eyeing. The diagrams of the human body, the sketches of a heart, brain, blood flow... The vials with unknown liquid... The notes in a foreign language - written by him - that only someone like him would understand.

“Oh,” you manage lowly. “Lovely. You must be a doctor. My father definitely needs those for his architectural work..”

The silence hangs heavy in the air for a moment, and Matt’s expression grows even stricter. A small sigh escapes his mouth.

"Those are my studies," He snaps, voice a bit quieter. His fingers tap against the table. "It has nothing to do with your father or his work. No one is supposed to see these. Especially you."

Your face falls. This is definitely how you die. Isn’t that like… every horror story? The villain turns and goes: what a shame, I was starting to like you!

“Okay,” you whisper, “I can keep a secret.”

A silence follows. He watches you for a moment, then a bitter snort fills the room for the second time. He looks down, shaking his head.

"You can keep a secret?"

The tone of his voice is a mix of scepticism and bitterness, "You came into a locked study at an ungodly hour. You don't strike me as a responsible and trustworthy person."

You scowl. “What other choice do you have?”

"I could send you away." He points out, eyes narrowing.

He watches you, trying to read you. His mind screams at him to get rid of her, to make sure she doesn't interfere and ruin everything.

“…Pardon?”

"Don't play dumb, it's unbecoming of a respectable lady," Matt grits his teeth. His patience is wearing thin, and the exhaustion of the last few days doesn't help.

“You know what’s unbecoming? Me telling my dad about this little… scheme!” You quip, quickly turning for the door.

A sharp sound of a chair against stone. Matt is on his feet in a matter of seconds, and you haven't even taken a proper step before he's right behind you.

"Wait-" He hisses, grabbing you by the wrist.

His long, cold fingers wrap around your wrist like a handcuff, stopping you. "Don't you dare-"

“How did you just move that fast?” You mutter, horrified.

"None of your business," He snaps instantly, his tone icy.

He glances at the door, then back to you. He watches you, expecting you to fight and start a scene. But you're frozen in place. A good, no, an amazing thing to happen in his current situation.

His other hand grabs your shoulder and turns you to face him, the grip on your wrist tightens. He leans closer and his voice goes down to a quiet, almost threatening whisper. "Don't. Breathe. A word.”

“Um,” you breathed, eyes wide.

Your breath hitches in your chest. He's close enough for you to feel his cold breath on your skin, his fingers digging slightly into your shoulder and wrist.

His eyes are darker, pupils blown wide. Even in the dim light, they hold a dangerous glint. In this moment, the resemblance to a vampire is uncanny.

But those were only of myths… weren’t they?

A few, tense moments pass before he releases your wrist, but not your shoulder. His fingers still dig into it.

"Sit." He commands.

"Right here." Another command. He points at a chair in front of the desk.

You look between the boy and the desk. Then, without another thought, bolted the other direction.

His eyes widen with disbelief, and he swears under his breath.

He chases after you.

He's faster, much faster than you are, and so much less exhausted. Catching up to you is practically nothing, as he wraps an arm around your waist and lifts you off the ground completely, carrying you back before he roughly sets you down on the chair he indicated.

"You really have to be so dramatic?" He huffs.

“You’re gonna kill me!” And then - it dawns on you, “you’re a vampire!”

Matt’s hands remain on your shoulders to keep you in place. He watches you with a deadly gaze that only proves your theory correct. The shadows under his eyes make him look even paler, almost as if the last drop of the human skin has completely disappeared.

"And you're a reckless girl who has a big mouth," He hisses. "Keep talking, I dare you."

You purse your lips shut. Maybe he’ll turn you into a vampire, too, and you’ll live out your life with him? He was cute, after all. That surely would be better than dying!

Matt watches you closely; he doesn't believe you'll be quiet, but the determination in your eyes seems more serious than before. Good.

He lets go of you and takes a few steps back, to the other side of the table.

He crosses his arms, "What am I going to do with you now? Hm..?"

Is it possible to seduce a vampire?

“Not kill me?” You suggest hopefully.

Matt’s eyes widen at your words, surprise replacing the anger in them.

"That's your great idea? To stay alive?" He asks in an almost mocking tone. "Do you even realise what position you put yourself in? Do you?"

His voice grows colder. "I could kill you right now. Snap your neck, let you bleed out on the ground-“

He lets the thought linger for a moment, like it's an actual possibility.

"But I won't. I'm not a monster."

“Uh… yeah right,” you mutter, glancing down to the floor.

"No-" He growls, taking a threatening step towards you.

Again, he grabs your shoulder. With his thumb and index finger, he lifts your chin up by it, forcing you to look at him again.

"Say that again. Look into my eyes. I dare you."

His gaze is even darker than before, with the same, dangerous glint.

You’ve come to your terms: you’re dying one way or another. Probably within the hour, seeing as the hot intern was actually a vampire. With no second thought, you kiss him.

Matt’s eyes widen, his body going still as he blinks stupidly in confusion for a moment.

He's not responding to the kiss. His lips remain shut, the hand holding your cheeks is the only movement you can feel.

After an embarrassingly long amount of time, he realises what's happening, and he pulls away.

"D-Do you have a death wish?" He asks, his voice barely above a whisper, shock and confusion evident.

Despite his words and the confusion from moments ago, his eyes keep darting down to your lips.

That's what got him in trouble, damn him.

He keeps staring at you in disbelief, and you can hear that his breathing got a touch heavier. There's a moment of hesitation. He wants to kiss you.

“Well…” You cock your head to the side.

A second of hesitation passes before Matt decides to throw the caution out the window, and he kisses you back.

His hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as he finally gives himself in, letting his walls down.

His thumb caresses your cheek as the other hand finds its place at the small of your back, his other fingers tangled in your hair.

He is gentle, yet his kiss is filled with raw emotion, his need for physical contact - and you. He wants more, needs more.

His lips move hungrily, like they're trying to remember every inch of yours, to memorise them for later. He bites your lower lip, his tongue tracing it for a moment. When you part your lips just the tiniest bit, he takes advantage of it and deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping inside.

His mind is fogged up, everything except for you forgotten.

Finally, after moments which feel like an eternity, he pulls away, his breathing unsteady. He rests his forehead against yours, closing his eyes for a moment. His heart is beating fast, as if this was his first taste of human blood - or maybe he just hasn't had a kiss for too damn long.

His lips are slightly parted, and there's still the faint taste of you on his tongue.

"You have no idea what you just did-" Matt mutters, his voice low, but he can't seem to pull away. He's so close, almost towering above you.

His thumb strokes the side of your face so gently, like a caress, an apology. He can't stop touching you, every brush of skin feels like pure bliss.

"If you weren't so damn reckless, it would be different." He adds in a more stern tone.

This feels downright sinful. Perhaps you should be burned at stake, yourself, for the thoughts that ran through your mind.

You swallow thickly, shaking your head.

"Don't shake your head, you know it's true." He mutters.

His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, his eyes following his movement. His touch is so gentle, but the glint in his eyes is dark.

"Don't play the innocent lamb here, honey." His thumb slips inside your mouth at the word, barely grazing your teeth...

Being at the brink of death has never been so hot!

"I wonder," He lets out, voice low, almost a whisper, "What goes on in this pretty head of yours."

A shiver goes down his spine when you run your tongue over his thumb. He watches your reactions with curiosity, but you can see his eyes growing darker.

"You didn't even fight me, and here you are, getting excited."

There's a warning in his tone and his gaze, but it only makes your heart beat even faster. God, he can't believe you. He can't believe he's standing here, enjoying a kiss from a woman, a human! With his damned fingers in her mouth, letting her do whatever she wants.

He's lost his mind.

"You're going to drive me insane." He grunts, a hand sliding to your hip.

Matt presses his lips against yours again, but the kiss is different this time. It's rough, his tongue sliding in instantly, tangling with yours.

He needs to feel the taste of your tongue, to feel you against him. God, help him.

He needs more, and no one taught him the definition of self-control, which is clear when the kiss grows even more heated, borderline desperate.

He presses a knee between your legs, and you gasp, allowing the boy easy access into your mouth.

That small gasp - the sound of it makes him want to make you do it again and again, and he groans into your mouth, unable to stop himself. One of his hands slides down to the back of your thigh, pulling you up so you're straddling his waist.

The only thing he can do is pull you closer, his body instinctively moving against yours, to feel just that much closer, more.

The way you react to him only spurs him on, and he keeps kissing you like you're the forbidden fruit and he's a fool desperate for a taste.

His hand slides to the back of your neck, using the grip to tilt your head back, deepening the kiss. He needs your taste, needs your reaction on his tongue. He feels the softness of your hair under his fingers, the warmth of your skin, and he can't get enough.

He's so lost in you. Completely under your control, and he has no way to stop this. Not that he wants to.

In pure need (or maybe bliss) you grab one of his hands and lead it quickly to your clothed heat.

Matt doesn't expect you to do this, yet he can't stop a quiet groan to leave his throat when he feels your hand pressing his palm against yourself.

You're going to be his undoing. And he likes it. His fingers curl, but his hand remains in place, waiting to see what you do.

His other hand remains at the back of your neck, holding your head up so he has better access to your mouth. He groans softly against your lips when you rock your hips forward, seeking relief of your own.

He can't take it anymore. He pushes his thigh in the space between your legs, and it feels like the only thing he can do. He kisses you rougher, teeth grazing your lower lip slightly.

And then, much to his shame, a moan escapes his mouth.

"Is that what you need?" He groans, his voice low. Like he doesn't know the answer.

His fingers start moving gently, rubbing the fabric, feeling your heat.

It's a torturous pace at the start, the touch is teasing, but he can't wait much longer. He can feel his fangs against his lip, but he ignores it as his hands move to the lacing at the front of your dress. He fumbles with them for a moment, almost in desperation to pull the fabric down, to feel your skin, to feel more of you.

His lips move from your mouth to your neck in hungry kisses, feeling you shiver against him from the way he kisses and nips the sensitive skin of your neck.

He can't get enough of you. He's addicted, a fool trapped in your spell.

Another moan escapes his mouth, and he starts pressing his fingers harder against you, his nails digging into your thighs.

"God, you're so tempting..." He grunts.

He sucks on your sensitive skin for a moment, but a moan sounds from you this time, and suddenly, whatever patience and self control he had left go out of the window.

He's already damned anyway.

He presses your body against the table with his, his lips on your neck once more, leaving a bruise he knows you'll have to cover in the morning.

He wants to see you. He needs to see you. With a quick move, the fabric slides down your body, pooling around your waist.

His hands trail over your body, exploring your bare skin, as he nips and sucks on any inch of you he can reach. His fingers start to slide further down, feeling how soaked you are through your undergarments.

"You have absolutely no regard for the consequences of your actions, do you?" He mutters against your shoulder, and he doesn't expect an answer.

His fingers hook into the hem of your undergarments, his movements teasing, making sure you know they're there, but not enough.

“Please,” you murmur, and you’re not sure if it’s a plead for your life or to be touched.

And that is the breaking point.

With a sharp breath, he slides your undergarments down your legs, and then his fingers start trailing up again, feeling your thighs, moving closer to where you want him.

He kisses you to swallow your reaction to his touch.

"Tell me," he starts, his voice husky, almost a growl. "Do you like me?"

Without waiting for the answer, his fingers slip between your folds, and he rubs slowly. Just teasing you, still making you beg for it. His mind is swimming, and he can barely process the situation, and honestly, he doesn't care anymore. He's just focused on you.

“Yes,” you insist, breathless.

He groans quietly, pleased by the answer.

"Good," he murmurs against your skin.

He finally gives you what you want. The way his fingers slide through your folds, rubbing against your entrance. His forehead presses against your shoulder, his breath heavy, but he continues to pepper your neck with kisses.

"That's better," he encourages you in a low murmur.

He knows his fangs are bared, but he doesn't care. You want him to do this, and that's all that he needed.

His fingers rub circles around your entrance. Your heat is addictive, you're addictive, the way you moan under his touch.

"I think you're ready." He sighs against your neck, and you can feel the curve of his mouth against your skin.

Before you can react, he pushes two fingers inside you, and a quiet groan escapes his lips as the feeling.

This is what he wanted. His mind is fogged up, filled with images and thoughts of you. How you sound and look, the softness of your skin, the way you want him to touch you.

"God," he mutters, "You feel perfect”

His free hand slips under your thigh and lifts your leg over his hip, to give himself better access.

He is completely at your mercy at this point. His mind is only filled with the need to touch you, to hear you moan, to taste you, to kiss every inch of your skin.

He rubs his thumb against your sensitive bud, and his tongue runs over the skin of your neck.

His lips travel to your ear, and he nips your lobe in a teasing manner.

"You're a sinful little thing, aren't you?" He murmurs against your skin, his voice low.

"Well... Maybe i'll reward you for it." His fingers start moving faster inside you.

You are tempting, he's convinced of that much. He can’t deny his enjoyment of your soft moans and gasps, or the way your walls flutter around his fingers…

He’s doomed.

“M’gonna,” you managed, nails biting into his shoulder.

"Go on, do it." He mutters, his lips moving from your mouth to your neck.

He presses his mouth against your jaw, his fingers moving expertly as his lips find the sensitive spot below your ear.

And with that — you did.

His lips curve into a smug smile, and he presses them against the side of your neck in a kiss that almost resembles tenderness.

A hum of approval escapes him as he keeps moving his fingers, just to prolong the feeling.

[pete-spankoffski]

hai serious ooc announcement

I have been feeling drained lately, so I haven’t really been roleplaying lately I apologize on that behalf, however I’m not sure if I will still rp or continue to use this blog as much as I used to

while I’m not certain, I cant promise I’ll be up to roleplaying all the time anymore after the past fewwww like 8 months ? haha almost an year, but yeah

if we have a specific storyline, I will continue that but might have to wrap up petes part at some point. the Tinky storyline was where I was starting to drain; stupid lmao I know but I’ve done so many in the past the one I really wanted to do just blanked out on me and I was excited for it yes but idk he’s been through so much that I felt like I was too😭? no one forces me to do so but my sleep schedule has changed really badly from roleplaying here, if you cant tell how active I was before where I was even up until 4am, school days too! crazy

my hyperfixation for Starkid has began to fade, for two years I’ve been interested in it while I still am I’m not too deep anymore

unsure if this blog will get deleted or just collect dust,

itd be fun to kill him off once more to end this blog tbh so if you’re up for that hmu /hj - nicky

stay safe

[the-kr8tor]

I love hobie guys<3

I need cowboy, fae and or pirate hobie as dads.

Like bro imagine fae hobie as a dad thatd be so interesting like itd be so cute and sweet too. Then pirate hobie being so so silly and goofy as a dad teaching his kids pirating and protecting them with his life. Imagine him teaching his how to sail his ship as well thatd be precious. Then cowboy hobie as a dad. Imagine how sweet he is during the whole thing. Also im curious on how cowboy hobie would sound like, like im genuinely curious and confused about this. Like i need to know how he sounds it is technically almost 4am for me i cannot be doing this

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

The most adorable thing ever!!!

Well, fae! Hobie did almost become a dad (in tf) if not for the curse lol but it would've been cute to see a fae baby running around!

Pirate hobie with babies running all over the deck being absolute menaces to their captain dad 🤣 hobie teaching them how to sail has my entire heart 🥺

I've been thinking about that too! Like will he sound the same, like a British cowboy lmao or change up his accent?? Like idk I'm so used to his actual accent that it might physically hurt me to write him with a cowboy accent lmaoo (maybe he's just new in town 🤣) but i have heard that southern accents are a bit similar to a British accent like it branches out from it idk i might be talking out of my ass lol

(the brainrot has you, lovely. I know the feels)

[lifeinthegladhouse]

i said i love you while he can still see it.

the thought of him being isolated for THREE. WEEKS. in chemo...sounds scary...im scared of how he will look...

im getting scared again

before i was scared and angry and sad but i made peace...a bit...now im angry and scared again.

he told me to call him (4am my time, 6 am his time) to make sure he gets up for his blood transfusion.

i know he doesnt want to die but it brings me comfort to know that if he wanted to... he could stop getting transfusions but itd be, probably not a great way to go.

i dont know whats going to happen.

I'd like to call his doctor team tmrw. they didnt call me monday...i put it off today bc i did all my other stuff but then he called me suddenly

i just want to know what the outlook is

im tired of them saying they dont know...acting like hes going to be okay

most people dont survive leukemia, he probably damn sure wont, he probably wont make it another year almost certainly... i mean hes 73 now.

he might idk.

i just hate how theyre acting like its nothing.

[nat-20s]

8 for jmart?

#8- constantly cheacking their messages for words from the other

what else was I gonna do? here's some classic ol' season 3 pining babey

Hello Martin. This is Jon. I have gotten a new phone after losing my last one, please put in the new number.

It's a simple message. Straightforward, factual, and utilitarian. There is no reason that pressing send should make his heart race. There's especially no reason that the second he sends it off, he's tempted to lie on the deeply uncomfortable, likely bedbug infested motel mattress staring at his screen until he gets a response. Sure, he's sick of being overseas, and he's sick of being so isolated, and he's sick of running, but he's not...desperate for what little companionship can even be provided by words on a screen.

He does miss Martin, though. He misses Tim as well, but in a manner that's significantly more complex and knotted than the simple desire to be around him.

God, when did he start wanting to just be around Martin? He started being aware of that want when he was at Georgie's, but he has no idea when the want itself actually started. That was probably something he should examine. Technically speaking, that is something that he has time to examine, but he doesn't want to examine right now. Right now, he wants the comfort of perhaps one of the only people out there that doesn't want to kill him, or use him, or both.

Martin, whether through somehow sensing Jon's discontent from nearly 4000 miles away or, more likely, through a general dutifulness inherent to his character, only takes a few minutes to reply. Oh good! it'd been a little bit since hearing from you, we were somewhat worried. putting you in my contacts as we speak :)!

Saying that "we" were worried is almost certainly generous on Martin's part, but Jon feels no need to point that out. Instead he turns on his side and stares at the phone. He particularly focuses on the smiley face, ridiculously charmed by the fact that, despite everything, Martin hasn't lost his predilection for emojis. Two years ago, he would've rolled his eyes, maybe thought something snide about professionalism. It wouldn't have been fair, as Tim used to do the same thing and he thought nothing of it, but he wasn't fair back then. Now, he simply wonders if he can get away with sending one back.

Before he can respond, Martin sends another message. Are you actually alright? I realized I was kind of assuming that losing your phone was the only reason you were MIA, but is anything else going on?

Damn. He tends to forget how perceptive Martin can be. What, exactly, Martin had perceived in that first message, Jon couldn't be sure, but apparently there was something that tipped him off to the..eventful last week he'd had. He really, really doesn't feel like getting into all of that right now, especially not over text, so instead he replies a mostly truthful I'm fine.

Then, squinting at the screen and realizing that might come across as a dismissal, he adds, Well, other than trying not to contemplate the general sanitation practices of a motel that clearly hasn't updated it's decor since the 70s. I'm suspecting the sheets are much the same.

He doesn't know how Martin will react to the message. He can't see the face he'll make, won't know the tone of his voice. However, he likes to imagine that Martin will at least smile. Maybe he'll even give that breath of a laugh, the one that sometimes happens when Jon's being lightly acerbic and it's not directed at him. He doesn't know, but he does hope for it. Martin texts back Oof. Maybe sleep on top of the covers tonight, yeah?, and Jon thinks that he might have guessed Martin's reaction correctly.

Christ, who knew all it took was a combination of jetlag and threats to turn him into a sap. He needs to sleep. He really needs a deep, proper, uninterrupted sleep, one lasting a minimum of eight hours and ideally closer to fifteen. Checking the time, it would be a fairly reasonable time to sleep, especially with the early start he has tomorrow. He considers sending off a quick good night message, but then has the realization that as reasonable as it is for him to be asleep right now, it's just as unreasonable for Martin to be awake. Are you alright? Good lord, Martin, it's almost 4am over there. Did I wake you?

Barely 30 seconds pass before he gets back no, you're good!

A beat, then a follow up message. I've had a irregular sleep schedule since I was like 16. A lot of evening and night shifts had a lasting impact u know? Working at the institute made it a bit more consistent but it's still p rare that i sleep the same eight hours night to night.

Jon's starts to text back something sympathetic; he's had his own struggles with both in- and hyper- somnia, but his phone buzzes in his hand before he can finish it.

Sorry! That was uh probably more information than you wanted.

Well, that just won't do. Even if there wasn't a part of his brain that had recently started collecting facts about Martin like they were precious jewels instead of mostly mundane stories, he doesn't want Martin to think he can't talk to him about things outside of the standard bounds of coworkers. Not at all. We're friends, Martin, I enjoy learning about you.

His brain wants to catastrophize the second he presses send. For the first minute that Martin doesn't reply, he doesn't let it. After the second minute, he allows the minor worry to become more severe. Had it been too much? Were they friends? Jon certainly thought so, but what if Martin wasn't in the same boat? Their interactions had been entirely friendly for months now, but what if that was just Martin being polite? God, what if Martin still thought of Jon as his boss, nothing more?

Ten minutes. It takes ten minutes for Martin to finally respond, and Jon has almost called him four times to explain himself. Ten minutes, and the first response is only Oh!

Then: Cool

Well, that's not a "piss off and die", but it's not exactly comforting. Jon doesn't know how to reply, staring at the words on his screen and not entirely sure if he's fucked up or not. Fortunately, Martin's not done responding, and the next message is much, much better.

Hey uh. Feel free to say no I know it's getting late over there but. Im not getting back to sleep for the rest of the day and itd be nice to actually hear you. Would you be okay with a call?

Without a moment's hesitation, he texts back Yes!, exclamation and all, because he's become someone he barely recognizes. The phone rings just as immediately, and he feels his entire body relax at Martin's first "Hello?"

Things are difficult right now. Things have been difficult ever since the promotion that was a curse in disguise. The world is filled with monsters he barely understands. He wishes he was home despite the fact that he barely recognizes it, as filled with tension and strife as it is. There's so much to discuss, so many things they should be hammering out. But right now, the threats are not pressing. Right now, he can hear about the bad true crime documentary Martin half-watched before he got Jon's texts, and Jon can bitch about the three different "pip pip cheerio" comments he's gotten since coming over seas. Right now, and for the hour before Jon drifts off, breathing slow and deep, he can pretend that this is an ordinary phone call, in an ordinary world, between two people who simply miss each other an extraordinary amount.

[boyfriendyke]

for the 4am asks-

20. Do you want a grand adventure?

28. Would you want to live forever? How about for a billion years, a million, a millennium, a century?

20.

YES but like in a fantasy I've Found A Cursed Sword And Now I Have To Fight Dragons sorta way, or somethin like that. i deserve to have a lotr roadtrip i think itd be fun besides the like almost dying n stuff :]

28.

literally Would Not want to live forever thats too fuckin long <3 maybe like a million years tho. enough time to properly fuck around and find out before dyin yknow

[effyeahdolantwins-blog]

Feels like Dying (E.D) [Part 1]

Okay. So I asked if you wanted me to cut down this fic or post it whole. You guys said post it but because of the length I've had to split it into 2 anyways 😂 they're both out at the same time though so just check my blog for the 2nd part.

From the way Ethan sulks out of the editing room, you could tell it hadn’t gone well. You had conveniently positioned yourself at just outside the door so you could catch him right after he stormed out- you were the only person who ever seemed to be able to calm him down. So you stood outside the door and waited for the inevitable tantrum of screaming and shouting.

There wasn't much, thank the lord- just a clearly seething boyfriend who looked about two seconds away from lashing out at his twin brother.

"E, You need to calm down," Grayson tries.

But Ethan just shakes his head, "How am I supposed to calm down when the video has to go up tomorrow, and all of the footage is corrupted?"

You subtly slip out of the living room and position yourself in E's line of sight. When you were sure he saw you, you raised your brows then went into his bedroom and shut the door behind you.

A few seconds later, he follows, shutting the door so hard it rattled the Ikea shelves behind you. His breathing is ragged, and you wait a few moments before carefully reaching up and brushing his chocolate hair out of his eyes. His face is beet red, his hair sweaty, and you’d only seen a similar look in his eyes when he had gotten to upset and punched a window. (You’d talked him out of that one too).

"Hey, Ethan are you alright?"

Caramel eyes stare intently at something past your shoulder as if he might set it on fire through his gaze alone. “Hey. Look at me.” You tap his jaw gently with a finger, forcing him to make eye contact with you. “Everything is going to work out, okay.”

But Ethan only sighs loudly, stepping away from you, "I'm fine."

Okay, that's bad. Very bad. He's just going cold, his voice monotone and lifeless. Honestly, itd be better if he threw a tantrum and broke things. At least then you could help.

You decide to let him cool down, and place a chaste kiss to his forehead before leaving, giving Grayson a shrug as you go. If E wants space, that's what you'd give him.

After getting pizza in town, one plain margarita for you and two ham and pineapple for the boys (Ethan fav), you head back home. Hopefully he's had to me to chill out. You deliberate how to approach him; act like everything is okay and tell him you bought pizza, or acknowledge he's upset and ask him about his feelings?

Deciding to judge based on his feelings, You enter the house, groaning at the way Grayson is now just as red as Ethan was. Placing the pizza on the counter, You frown up at him, "What's up Gray?"

"Oh besides the fact my own brother has just tried to punch me because I asked him what's wrong," as soon as the words leave his mouth you're shocked.

No matter how bad Ethan has gotten, he's never been like this.

Upset now, You open your boyfriend's bedroom door only to be met with Ethan, his fists raised, "I told you stay out!"

You put your hands up, "Hey! It's me Ethan! God!"

He immediately drops his hands, staring at you for a moment before wandering to the other side of his room, running his hands through his hair. You plop down on the silk sheets of his bed, "What a warm welcome(!)"

"Why are you here?"

The coldness in his voice shocks you, and it hurts. You furrow your brows, "Um...I figured I'd come and see you. You seemed pretty pissed earlier. I...I brought pizza."

Apparently the offering of pizza isn't enough though, "You shouldn't be here."

"Last time I checked you were the one who gave me the key!" You're getting annoyed now.

"A mistake."

"A mistake?" You stand, the bed suddenly not so comfortable any more, "What do you mean it was a mistake?"

"I mean what I said," he turns to face you, eyes black and emotionless, "You. Me. It was a mistake."

"I-Ethan-"

He cuts you off, "Just shut up!" He's pacing now, back and forth, You wouldn't be surprised if Grayson could hear you from down the stairs.

"Hey! Don't tell me to shut up-!"

"SHUT UP Y/N!" All of a sudden you're pushed against the wall and you cry out, in shock more than pain.

Grays footsteps get louder as he runs into the room, coming between you and Ethan, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Your boyfriend's twin looks at you, concern lacing it's way into his features when he sees the fear in yours, "Y/N? Are you okay?"

All you can do is stare at Ethan though, unable to move for shock that he had actually just pushed you.

Grayson is seething, but Ethan speaks before he can, "I want you to go. Now. We're over."

Tears brim at your eyes instantly. Gray looks at his brother in disbelief, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Just leave," is the last thing E spits before Grayson grabs your arm and leads you into his room.

He packs a bag roughly full of clothes and pulls his charger from the wall, shoving it into his pockets.

You're confused, "Gray, what're you.."

But Gray only gives your hand a tight squeeze, offering you a small smile, "Hey, you're a part of the family. Don't ever think you're not. If he wants to lash out at everyone. He can. I'm not staying here to pick up the pieces."

Soon enough, you're being pulled out of the house by Gray and into his car. You can't help looking up at Ethans window with a sense of regret though, and you pull your knees up to your chest, sobbing loudly.

Gray comforts you. The both of you stay at your apartment that you were supposed to sell this week to live with the boys full time. Good thing you didn't.

The days are spent playing video games and having movie marathons. Anything to take your mind off of the fact that Ethan was gone. That he didn't want you anymore.

Grayson had to apologise to the fans. He lies to why they're not making videos. Personal issues he says. Not the fact that they haven't been in contact for three solid weeks.

Night times are the hardest. Gray sleeps on the sofa, You in your bed and your heartbreak feels cold. It feels like concrete drying in your chest. This was all so unexpected - top of the world one minute and cut down the next. Why is that? Is there part of him that hates to see you happy when he's miserable? 

You tries so hard. But he didn't care. Did he ever care? About anything?

Probably not.

“No, no- stop!” You toss and turn, trying to shove Ethan away from you. “Stop it! Stop saying that!” Heaving, you sit up in bed, almost hitting your head against the headboard.

Grayson is immediately by your side, stroking your face, telling you everything is going to be okay.

Salt has worked its way down your cheeks and it stings a cut on your lip. You must have bitten it in your sleep.

Damn stupid Ethan. You wipe your eyes and take deep breaths, smiling sadly at Gray. He's been your rock these past weeks, helping you cope, distracting you. He's been perfect.

It's crazy how much he's similar to Ethan, but then so different. God! Damn Ethan, damn him, damn him. It’s been a month and he’s still in your head. Only when you shove the blankets off you in frustration do you notice the banging on your door, loud and obnoxious against the steel.

You check the clock- 4AM. Grayson looks worried, "I'll get the door, You just wait right here."

The door opens and a figure stumbles into the room, "Y/N?"

That voice. You'd know that voice anywhere. Ethan...What the hell was he doing looking for you?

Grays voice is gruff when he answers his brother, "She doesn't want to see you Ethan, go back home."

"I'm not talking to you," he tries to get past Gray, but is pushed back, "I just want to see my girlfriend!"

His voice is trembling. Was he drunk? But Ethan never drinks. He hates the stuff.

You pull the blanket tighter around your body, biting down on your lip to stop from crying out. Blood enters your mouth again. Why was he here? Why was he doing this?

The last time he had seen you he wanted nothing more to do with you. And now he was here, calling you his girlfriend again.

It's just all too much.

Gray laughs dryly, " You gave up that title when you kicked her out of the house. She doesn't want to see you. Just leave."

"Oh I bet you're loving this," Ethan slurs, talking directly to his brother now, eyes turned black again. Face red. "I always figured you had a crush on Y/N. What an opportunity to be her saviour."

Gray is clenching his fists now, "Leave Ethan!"

But E carries on, "Tell me, do you kiss her better? She might be able to pretend it's me if you hit it from the ba-"

Punch.

Ethan is propelled backwards by the power of Graysons fist. He stumbles, clutching his nose. Blood spurts down his face and you run to the door, grabbing Gray's arm as he cocks it for another hit.

"Stop it Gray! He's not worth it," You whisper quickly to him, trying your hardest to pull him back. Gray outs his arm down, but stay in between you and Ethan, as if to protect you.

E stands shakily, using the bench outside for support, but collapses back down onto his knees, looking for all the world like he’s begging for you right in front of your face. “Please, Y/N. I made such a big mistake. You have to take me back.” He’s crying now, pleading like he’s bargaining for his life.

It hurts to see him like this. And you close your eyes, as if to not see him sobbing for you. Tears brim your eyes and you look to the floor.

When he sees your face, E softens, wiping the crimson from his face, "Y/N, I just want to talk."

You're not that pathetic though, and you manage to sob out, "I don't want to talk. Just leave Ethan. Please."

And he does.

He picks himself up off the floor, silent tears still crawling down his face. God, how you want to kiss those tears away. Hold him, and tell him everything will be alright, just like you had so many times before. But you hold your ground, even when he looks at you so sorrowfully you feel like your heart is being ripped out of its chest. The door closes behind him, and for one moment everything is still.

There's a part of you that wishes he would've stayed though. You don't want him to leave, not really. It's like you don't want him to go but seeing him hurts you so much. The pain feels as if you're being stabbed a thousand times in the heart but you can't die. It's agony.

Gray engulfs you in an embrace, and you cry into his chest, your body shaking violently. He holds you, like he's trying to stop you from running after his brother. Like he knows what you're thinking.

You can't manage to sleep, so instead you lay with Grayson, snuggles up in his arms watching TV. You aren't even sure what's on, some kind of animation. But you're not watching it anyways.

All you can think of is Ethan.

Then there's a buzz from the table. Your phone. Douche (the thing Gray changed Ethans name to) flashes on the screen. Gray frowns at you, but you pick up regardless, ready to tell E to leave you alone. Instead of Ethans familiar voice though, a clear females voice comes from the other end of the line, "Hello is this Y/N Y/L/N?"

Stunned, You wait a second before answering, "Um...yeah, yeah this is Y/N."

"My name's Christy, from Los Angeles general hospital. It seems that Ethan has gotten into an accident-"

Dun. Dun. Duuuuuunnnn! Second part will be up shortly 😁 remember to leave me a comment letting me know if you like.

[spoopycoda]

So this is just me screaming into an empty sky, but I need to just vent right now because holy fuck do I live with an awful roomie.

So to start, shes not doing well mentally or financially, so I've been helping where I can, usually meaning I buy her groceries almost every week and I buy occasional gifts to cheer her up. It's now turned into me basically being a second piggy bank for her, and I know I can say no, but the nerve of her seeming to expect me to say yes all the time is fucking infuriating.

Also I cant talk about healthy eating, weight loss, obesity, or CICO around her because it's basically hate speech apparently, even though I just wanted to share the progress I've been making that's been really hard for me to make. I cant even call smokers addicts cause apparently its rude and disrespectful! 🙄

I'm also expected to basically do most of the chores around here cause shes got back problems from past accidents, so even if I've been working 10+ hours days (plus commute) I have to clean the house myself, clean the outside, and take out the compost recycling and garbage as well.

Shes been on stress leave for like a month now and my god is my sympathy wearing thin. She sits at home 90% of the time either sleeping or playing games (on my tv that I let her use mind you) and seems to not understand just how exhausted I am from working all the time, like I'm sorry I dont have time for much after work I've been up since 4am and i got home at 5pm, forgive me.

And now the latest bullshit, we got our shower re-caulked yesterday at 11am, landlord said itd be fine to use in 12 hours, I waited until 7pm today to use it cause I'm dealing with monthly lady problems and like hell I'm gonna stew in my own stank until tomorrow night. And when I got out of the bathroom my roomie asked if I'd showered so I said yes, and she said "ok I dont want to talk to you anymore, go to bed". Like ??? I feel like I'm living with a bitchy mother again man.

Nothing around here is cheap for rent and honestly I like her cats too much to move, but my fucking gawd do I hate users like this. I feel trapped and hopeless here, I lost my dad to cancer last year so I'm limited on support, and it's taking ann my self restraint to not scream at her. I'm so close to a mental breakdown but it seems like my issues don't matter to her, all I feel from her is disappointment and disgust and like I'm somehow the problem here.

Honestly if it weren't for my dad I'd consider self harm, hes the only thing keeping me from going back to that dark place. (That and my dog, who's curled next to me right now)

I cant even sleep right now cause I'm so mad, she also just cooked the one thing that wakes me up at night so its gonna be a while anyways. She told me when I moved in that she was difficult to live with, I didnt think itd be this bad. I'm trying to rebuild myself after losing my father and it just feels like shes tearing down any progress I make, shit hurts man. I guess misery does love its company.

If anyone actually wasted their time to read this, thanks I suppose, I dont mind nor care if you didnt though, I'm used to being ignored and I've been thrown so many pity parties over the course of my life I'm sick of them. Goodnight <33

[g0dtier]

Did i tell yall i went to a party on thursday it was super weird

It was at my classmates place and her bf came too and uhhh

At some point we started switching shirts and then we took off the shirts and then we just walked around in our underwear. I didnt at first but we went to smoke on the balcony and one of my friends said that itd be less cold if i took off my pants and was in my underwear and for some reason i believed her? She believed herself too smh

I got an almost lapdance and one of my classmates had a panic attack and another kept trying to feed me clementines

Then 4 of us went to sleep over at my classmates place at like 3.30am and then at 4am everyone was asleep except for me and some damn couple in another appartment started fucking and i just wanted to sleep

[iamthescalesofjustice]

when its 4am and ur tiptoeing around yr friends apartment going to get water and u almost drink directly out of their brita pitcher and only restrain yrself not bc itd be gross/bad but bc u want to drink it out of a wine glass instead im on mobile so just visualize yr own meme image but make sure is reverbed to capture the slight disassociation thx