#our dms before i posted this were actually insane

[rikupid]

thinking abt… mutual masturbation as punishment for haechan

thinking abt how he’d stare so hard at you getting yourself off… his eyes trying to catch every detail of your face and body… and at first, he can’t touch himself, his cock straining in his pants as his fingers dig into his thighs, restraining himself. it’s not until you give him the go ahead, immediately fisting his cock at the sight of you.

he’s satisfied until he’s not. whining out that he can make you feel so much better. he’s practically crying out to you, begging for your touch, only you can make him feel good.

i just fell to my knees…. I THINK YOU’RE TRYING TO KILL ME. warning this is literally just haechan begging….. IM SORRY

—————————————————————————————————————

“you did this to yourself, baby,” you laugh, watching as haechan began to squirm. you were on display for him, fingers deep inside yourself and your cunt dripping, yet he couldn’t touch. every moan that left your lips was pure torture and haechan was whining in frustration. he wanted so badly for you to let him touch, his cock straining against his pants while he sat there watching you.

“please, just lemme touch you,” he began to plead, eyes wide and desperate, “s’not fair. wanna feel you.”

you did nothing but ignore him, closing your eyes as you kept fingering yourself. you knew just how much you were affecting him, letting out soft little moans every time your fingers hit just right.

“baby, please. let me make you feel good,” haechan tried again, his nails digging into his thigh. this wasn’t fair. “c’mon, please? you know i’d feel better than your fingers,” he whines, hating the way he was getting ignored. it should be his cock stuffing you full, not your stupid fingers that could barely amount to just how good he fucked you. he was so needy, too obsessed with your cunt to think about anything else.

“shut up,” you finally let out, opening your eyes to see just how desperate he was becoming. “you don’t deserve to touch me, not after what you said earlier,” you spit out, refusing to give in to his begging. he was going to learn just how badly he needed you to make himself feel good. no one else could bring him the same pleasure that you did, his poor cock useless if it wasn’t you touching him.

“i was just teasing, baby, i’m sorry,” haechan whines again, frustration clear in his voice. he hated this. you were so mean to him and it was starting to drive him mad.

pulling your fingers out and making sure haechan was watching, you began to slowly rub circles on your clit. “feels so good, hyuckie,” you moan, throwing your head back in pleasure. you were doing this on purpose and he knew it, getting closer and closer to his breaking point. deciding to spare him just a little, you gave him the go ahead to touch himself.

haechan was desperate, pathetically so, and pulled out his cock at lightning speed. he was so hard that it hurt. he immediately started to touch his poor cock, chasing a release that you refused to give him. but he couldn’t. it wasn’t the same if you weren’t touching him, stroking him to completion and telling him just how good he was for you. he let out another whine, face crumpling.

noticing his reaction, you let out a mocking laugh. “you wanted to touch so badly and now you’re complaining?” you ask, pulling your hand away from your clit. “i thought this was what you wanted?”

“i do, i do—it’s not, fuck,” haechan whines again, “it’s not the same. n-need you to touch me.” he was so humiliated, so close but so far from cumming. he looks up at you with watery eyes and quivering lips, pleading for your touch.

“you need me? even after your little outburst earlier? i thought you didn’t need me to touch your pathetic cock to feel good?” you ask, mocking him once again. he was so close to letting go, tears threatening to spill as he kept touching himself. “tell me how much you need it and maybe i’ll reconsider.”

“p-please, touch me,” he cries, tears finally rolling down his face. “i need you to touch me, please! i can’t—can’t take it anymore, please,” haechan was full on begging now, overwhelmed with the need for you to touch him. every second without your touch was too much for him to handle, causing him to sob as he continued to babble about just how badly he needed you to touch him.

“that’s all you needed to say, hyuckie,” you coo, moving over to where he was. “you just need me to feel good, don’t you?” you ask, knowing the answer. haechan nodded, sniffling as he looked into your eyes. you leaned in, softly kissing him and wrapping your hand around his cock.

quickly starting to jerk him off and swallowing his moans, haechan was so close. you pulled away from the kiss, watching as he fell apart. “i’m s-so close, please,” he begs, thrusting into your hand.

“you were so good,” you praise, speeding up your hand as you stroked his cock. “cum for me, baby,” you whisper into his ear, finally giving him the permission to cum. his hips stuttered, a loud whine leaving his lips as he spills into your hand. you kiss him one last time, pulling your hand away from his spent cock.

“t-thank you,” haechan mumbles, face red as he tries to recompose himself. you couldn’t help but smile, so weak for your boyfriend. no matter how bratty he was, you always gave him what he wanted.

[broccolidevourer]

This is insane but I actually fell in love with Timothy Scott's cryptic misto after all these years AGAIN! Like days ago Ken Page passed away and I was searching for his pics and even went to the MUNY's 1973 collections. HOWEVER I accidentally found our cryptic misto had actually did two shows (fiddler on the roof & south pacific) with Old D back in 1973 when they were like both teens and that blown me away. Anyway I got my account back(which wasn't in use for a while and I cleared up all the posts before) and it's time to go through old photos I collected when I was crazy about OBC and Tim. Also, congratulations on Tim and Ken's heavenly reunion.(Wonder if anyone has seen the full video tape in NYPL, please DM me)

I think in OBC preview Misto and Victoria had a tap duet as cockroaches but that was removed. Also, misto(Tim) and Victoria(Cynthia) appeared in 2 other shows together(a chorus line& dancin') and were great friends, cool huh. I love how they were like a family (Last pic 1973 MUNY South Pacific rehearsal)Ask me anything!

[beemers-hell]

i desperately wanna apologize to you but you would call bullshit and paint me like something evil bitch when in reality, i want the cycle of abuse to end and to ease my mind. i just wanna redeem myself before ending it all.

- you already know who

to everyone else sorry about this, but I've had enough, anyway i was just gonna delete this, just like i deleted the TWO suicide notes you sent me in my ask box a lil bit ago, but a number of my friends DM'd me about what you've been posting on your blog so I can only assume this all came from Nene, also known as @/shugurrsn0w , and for anyone who doesnt know Nene is, well this callout thread will get you acclimated with her REAL quick lmfao:

You are not fucking apologetic at all if you are using s0uless' full REAL name on your blog, you stupid bitch. That kind of information can put them at risk of REAL GENUINE HARM. S0uless made the mistake of using their name as their art handle when they were younger but they have been doing a pretty extensive wipe of that username being online, I know this isn't exactly doxxing because of that but USING IT WHEN THEY'RE CLEARLY NOT WANTING IT TO BE PUBLIC INFORMATION IS SOME PRETTY SCUMMY SHIT, AND CAN BE USED FOR ACTUAL REAL HARM BEING DONE TO HIM YOU JACKASS

Don't come in my ask box hiding behind anonymous acting like you actually feel bad for the shit you did when you are STILL making posts calling me and my husband fucking freaks when you know DAMN WELL we're not. Don't you dare try and act all remorseful and pitiful and like you're some misunderstood fallen angel when you've been doing but helping making our lives a fucking nightmare. You don't get to act like you've done nothing wrong when you have CONSISENTLY VICTIM BLAMED THEM, CLAIMED THEIR TRAUMA WAS FAKE, BEEN RACIST TO ME, MOCKED MY ABUELAS RECENT DEATH, THREATENED HARM ON BOTH OF US, HARASSED AND STALKED US, AND SPREAD ALL THIS INSANE SHIT ABOUT US FOR NO GODDAMN REASON. You don't get to just act like you made some petty mistakes that you can walk off, you have been non stop harassing, stalking, and falsely accusing me and s0uless of being scum of the fucking earth when there is no goddamn evidence that we are and you KNOW there isn't, because we fucking ARENT. Unlike your freak ass, we KNOW what the fuck is right and what is wrong. But that kind of shit gets around to people and makes people start thinking we ARE those freaks that we aren't.

And you should be well aware of how fucking awful that makes a mother fucker feel, you know? Since you wanna keep whining about how "people keep being mean/demonizing you for no reason." What, you don't think people are gonna DM me asking me what the fuck you're talking about in those posts you make? Newsflash dipshit, most people wanna know both party's stories regarding drama that surrounds someone they know. Don't you try to twist this and cry about how I'm some creepy weirdo that's stalking you, you should've thought harder about following someone and then IMMEDIATELY sending them an anonymous ask about me and s0uless, cause that DEFINETLY isn't fucking fishy at all, dumbass. That's how I was alerted to you and your new bullshit. Don't try and act like I'm a freak that keeps tabs on you, I thought you'd drop off the face of the earth after that one callout thread got made on you. You wanna talk about evidence of wrongdoing? Nothing really shows your true colors more than publicly being racist, harassing minors, and consistently AND RECENTLY consuming bestiality porn of minors. Try bouncing back from saying that YOU want to make noncon porn of your favs, or being a whole ass adult saying you wanna fuck a 16 year old character that you KNOW is 16. THATS some REAL freak shit that YOU admitted to your damn self, you don't get to act like me or s0uless are the real freaks when there is REAL AND RECENT EVIDENCE of you doing that shit, you gross fuck.

Leave us the fuck alone, I do not care about your pathetic ass and s0uless sure as shit doesn't either. This has been going on for over a FUCKING YEAR NOW and i dont give a single SHIT about playing nice and being quiet about it anymore. Don't fucking come whining to me and acting like you're remorseful again when you're PULLING THIS SHIT AGAIN. Leave me the fuck alone and I'll leave you the fuck alone. Expect a restraining order dumbass, it was real easy to get your info when you've got it so readily available online! If youre gonna play stupid games, expect to win stupid prizes. Get the fuck off my and my husband's dick and focus on fixing yourself you ghoul. Do some fucking introspection so you can figure out why the fuck people don't like you. And don't come to me threatening suicide again, I don't give a single SHIT about you and I'm sure as FUCK not going to give you any sympathy when you've shown no fucking growth or genuine remorse for all of this. I've thought about killing myself a lot lately too, you're not fucking special.

[sushiwriterhere]

two: required texts

flight path

summary: "It takes your remaining sober thoughts to refocus on beer pong instead of how hard it hits you that you want Jake."  rating: mature (eventually explicit, 18+ mdni) pairing: jake 'hangman' seresin x f!reader word count: ~6.9k lol warnings: angst, masturbation ment, enemies to lovers!, college au!, eventual smut, hangman being hangman, no use of y/n.  notes: dedicated to @waklman bc u entertain my insane dms <3 pls pls pls let me know what you think everyone!! masterlist here this fic is being posted from my queue while I have little access to the internet. any tag list requests/fic replies will be slow; thanks!

"Jake said you were coming to our party this Friday?" Bradley's smile is so genuine, so unlike everything about Jake, "Never thought you'd agree but it'll be good to see you."

Sometimes you regret making things so sour with Jake, because Bradley’s actually really sweet. He’s been letting you and Jake duke it out about your project at their breakfast bar counter while he cooks in the background. He’s kind of always on FaceTime with someone, usually a girl, and he even makes a mean chocolate chip cookie. Something about the flakey sea salt just does it.

Bradley is the kind of guy you think you might settle down with one day. Bradley doesn’t throw his hands up in the air at you in frustration when you argue about what exactly qualifies as sustainability, and he certainly does not make deals with you to try and get you to come to frat parties.

That being said, he looks so happy to hear that you might be joining them that you really don’t have the heart to knock him down. 

“Oh, yeah, Jake–” You consider your words carefully. 

Jake hadn’t explicitly said that the deal was to be kept hush-hush, but you didn’t really know how much you wanted people knowing that you were willing to trade your introvert lifestyle just to ensure a good grade. Plus, it felt just a smidge pathetic that that was what you’d caved to. 

“Jake told me he talked you into it in exchange for going with your lead on your project, but it doesn’t seem to really be working.” Bradley’s laugh fills the hallways of the lab and you feel yourself tense up. 

God, you really did get the short end of the stick if it was that obvious that Jake wasn’t holding up his end of the bargain at all. 

“Yeah... well...” You trail off, twisting your hands in front of you until someone calls you name at the end of the hallway.

Bradley looks at you, his gaze a little too knowing, before you both wave goodbye and you take off toward the sound of your supervisor’s voice. 

Running into Bradley is one thing, he’s nice and doesn’t make you want to poke your eyeballs out, getting to the end of the hallway to see Jake standing in front of your professor with an easy-going smile on his face is another. Fantastic.

“Mr. Seresin here was just telling me that the two of you have been hard at work,” Jake bounces his shoulders just a little behind your professor’s back, as if rubbing it in how much he’d obviously been talking himself up in the few seconds before, “I have high expectations for the two of you.”

You resist the urge to call him a dumbass in front of the man who’s probably going to single handedly get you into MIT, and school your features into something a little more school-appropriate. You are not going to let him screw this, especially this, up for you. 

“Of course, Professor Simmons, we’re certainly putting our all into it.” Jake mock gags behind the professor’s back for a split second before he turns around, and then he’s the picture of academic excellence.

Simmons wanders off in the way he usually does, leaving just you and Jake standing in the hallway. Distantly, you know that you’re technically on the clock, but you’re well-liked enough that you can get away with a little time theft. No one’s had any complaints on time sheet day so far.

Jake rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, smile ever present. For a moment, he looks a bit unsure of himself, but the expression is gone even quicker than it came.

“What are you doing in the labs, Jake. Don’t you have some other poor girl to harass?” You cross your arms and stare expectantly at him– you’d rather spend your stolen time reading the New Yorker on your phone and not dealing with Jake Seresin.

“Was just dropping by to chat with Simmons, you know how it is. Office hours, etcetera, etcetera.” He’s at ease once again, his gaze trained fully on you.

“Why did you say etc like that?”

“Did you just say ‘e-t-c’?”

For a moment there’s complete and entire silence, the type that happens right before exams are handed out. Then, Jake starts howling with laughter, completely doubled over. You watch in horror, listening to his voice echo around the sterile hallways and probably right into every professor’s office. 

Once he’s done completely humiliating you, he stands up and wipes at his eyes, “Sorry, you just—you were lecturing me the other day about ‘histrionics’ and you’ve never heard etcetera said aloud have you?”

You bristle, teeth gritted, “I’ll have you know, you can say it either way.” He doesn’t need to know, but you haven’t heard it aloud.

“Oh, I was also looking for you.” His abrupt change of subject makes you nervous. 

You and Jake have admittedly been spending a lot of time together. After your first few hours at the library, Jake’s been making a habit of being around you. Like, a lot.

First, he’s always sitting next to you in your shared classes. You’re only taking four, and sharing three of those is just a lot of Jake-time. He mostly leaves you alone, thankfully, but he’s taken to poking you to get your attention for his random thoughts, turning his computer your direction to show you a funny meme someone sent him, and occasionally reaching over to doodle on your notes. He also always uses your shared seat rest.

You don’t know why you let him do it. But, if you were brutally honest, it’s kind of nice having him around. Despite all your petty disagreements, Jake’s a bright personality, and it makes your stomach flip in a funny way when he spots you across the quad and waves wildly to get your attention, or when he buys you lunch before your library sessions. You do keep bickering about nearly everything though.

That’s the second thing. Now, after your two classes together on Mondays and Wednesdays, the two of you will go to the library and study til the wee hours of the morning. On more than one occasion, he’s bought you coffee to sustain your hours of staring at complex equations and trying to apply to grad schools. 

(“What grad school are you applying to now?” 

“Nunya.”

“Okay, unless the top fifteen rankings have been updated since the last time I checked there is no grad school that—“

“Nunya business.”

“Very funny. Real mature. You’re really childish y’know that.”

“I’m childish? Remind me which one of us spent eighty five dollars at a candy store last week after taking forty five minutes to decide.”

“There’s a lot of options!”)

You two don’t make a lot of conversation but it’s getting easier to talk to him like he’s a normal person, like he’s anyone else. You still keep your cards close to your chest, though, unready to let him in fully and still not entirely trusting him. 

Once, you’d shared a bit about how much pressure you felt to get into a top graduate program, to ensure that your parents were taken care of as an only child. Jake had been surprisingly empathetic, and had shared some about his home life, which you suspected wasn’t as idyllic as he made it seem, but it had made you smile. 

“Youngest, with four sisters, I was a little doll,” He’d laughed. He never talked about his parents, really.

It had been an odd moment of peace between the two of you until he had teased you for the way you read out an equation as you were checking your work, and then it was back to trading barbs.

The third thing is that he hadn’t invited you to a party til this week, about four into the semester. Before he had, it hung over your head like an anvil–ominous, always present, and not exactly forthcoming on when it was planning on crushing you like a bug. 

He’d been too nice about it, assuring you that whatever you wore would be fine (“Just think... slutty?” “Don’t be sexist, Jake.” “What! That’s what the sorority girls say.” “Well, are you a sorority girl?” “I can be if you want me to be, sweets.” “You have issues.”). He’d also said he’d keep an eye out on you but that his frat brothers were all great people, and besides, Bradley would be around. You don’t really want to share how it makes you feel that Bradley had asked you if you really were attending.

“Just wanted to make sure you’re coming on Friday.” His smile softens into something more genuine than his usual wild grin. “Was worried I might’ve scared you off.”

You huff, “I’m not scared.”

The way he looks at you in that moment makes you want to shove him so he’ll stop staring at you, a combination of pity and something else you’re afraid to identify, “No, not at all.”

Then, his demeanor changes back into something that’s a bit more familiar to you as he tucks his hands into his pockets and turns to leave, “Besides, if you don’t come, we’re doing our entiiiire project on Naval mechanics. Bye!”

He’s gone before you can yell at him.

-

This isn’t who you are–outfits strewn all over the floor of your room, music blaring from your phone where it’s charging in the corner, a layer of nervous sweat starting to coat your forehead and palms. Nothing fits right or in a way that doesn’t make you want to lose your mind. 

For a moment, you wish that you were a sorority girl, surrounded by women who know all the cultural rules of what you’re about to walk into. It’s not in a “I’m not like other girls” way, but more in a “my parties consist of wine and boardgames”. You are excited, but you also just feel stupid. 

You jump about half a foot in the air when your music cuts off all of a sudden and is replaced by the someone singing “save a horse, ride a cowboy” at far too many decibels. Scrambling, you grab your phone from the far side of your bed and see that it’s Jake trying to FaceTime.

“When did you change your ringtone?” Is the first thing you say when you pick up, endlessly irritated. “Your voice is terrible, by the way.”

Jake just laughs, “Oh, it absolutely is not. And you left your phone unlocked when you went to the bathroom two weeks ago, it was the only logical course of action. How have you not noticed til now?”

“I keep my phone on silent like a normal person.” You try to angle the camera so he can’t see the fact that you’re only in a sports bra and that you are absolutely not dressed despite the fact that you need to leave relatively soon.

“Again with this normal person thing, sweets,” He looks like he’s walking through the frat house as you hear people in the background, and you have half a mind to ask if Bradley’s around but decide against it. Something tells you Jake would be, well, weird about it. “You have got to be the least normal person I know, and that’s saying something.”

The absolutely unimpressed look on your face makes him laugh, and you almost hang up until you remember that he could potentially be helpful with your predicament. He wasn’t helpful last time but maybe this time he will be. He at least knows more about what girls are supposed to wear to this stuff.

“Jake...” You start, unsure of how to even ask. 

‘Oh hey Jake, how am I supposed to dress slutty for the frat party you cajoled me into going to because this is really out of my comfort zone and I’m this close to just telling you we can do your stupid Naval aircraft idea so that I don’t have to deal with this’ is a decidedly bad start.

“Sweets...” He croons back at you over the phone as he sets you down on a bathroom counter. 

It’s then that you realize that he’s been shirtless this entire time, and is still very much shirtless. Look, you may have a deep dislike for Jake Seresin as a person, but you’re not blind. You have eyes. And your eyes are telling you that Jake is absolutely so fucking fine that you have sort of forgotten your question. 

He’s absentmindedly applying shaving cream to his face and bustling around the bathroom while opening drawers and humming to himself. You remain silent. 

You just sort of stare at him for a few seconds before he raises an eyebrow at you. It’s then that you realize you’re holding your phone at an atrocious angle and you’re supposed to be asking him how to dress for this and showing him the insides of your nostrils is definitely not going to be doing you any favors.

“Sweets, did you have something you were going to say or are you just going to spend the next thirty minutes checking me out?” Jake says it so nonchalantly it almost makes you hang up, but you’re caught off guard by how something as simple as watching him shave on FaceTime can feel so endearing and domestic.

“Very funny. I was going to tell you you have something sticking out of your nose but I guess I won’t now.” You huff, hoping it’ll distract him from the last two minutes of silence.

At the very least, it works. Jake frantically tries to figure out what’s danging from his nose while you try and regroup. 

“I need your help picking an outfit.” It’s dramatic, but it feels like a weight off your chest to say it, “I just– Well, it’s just that nothing looks good and I hate this.”

Jake sets his razor down and leans close to his phone so you can see only his face and nothing else, “Lemme see what’cha got, sweets.”

The next twenty minutes are, somehow, not entirely excruciatingly painful. Jake immediately vetoes every single one of your business casual outfits (“You are not wearing slacks to a frat party, sweets, be serious.”) but he’s nice about it. When you dive deep into your closet to pull out a box of items you haven’t thought about since you bought them freshman year, you really start to reconsider how much you don’t want to work on Naval mechanics. 

“Okay, you can’t be mean, I bought these freshman year in a moment of weakness.” You can feel how hot your face is and you barely manage to get through the sentence without stammering or hanging up on him.

You lay out the tops on your bedding–Jake had already approved of a pair of jeans you hardly ever wore. These pieces are much more party-oriented than anything else you regularly wear, and you remember how for a weekend freshman year you’d felt so alienated, so weird, that you’d spent almost three-hundred dollars on going out tops. You’d returned most of them but the ones in front of you you’d kept in secret hope maybe you’d get to wear them. 

“You are a liar.” Jake’s voice comes softly from your phone and you frown.

“I literally just asked you to not be mean. You can’t even not be mean when—” 

“Sweets, any guy here would pass away at the sight of you in any of these,” He says and you make sure the camera isn’t on you so you can contort your face into a silent scream, “Talkin’ about, ‘I have nothing to wear’.”

“Drama queen.” It’s all you can say, but the thought of him passing away at the sight of you? That might be more appealing than you’d like to admit.

-

God, it’s so fucking loud in here. You managed to arrive fashionably late, as Jake advised. Now, you’re just sort of standing by the doorway, unsure of where to go or who to talk to. 

Then, all of a sudden, Jake appears next to you, all bright eyes and white teeth as he bobs along to the music. He grabs your arm and pulls you into an excessively tight hug, one that smooshes your face into his chest and traps your arms at your sides. You try not to breathe in too hard, but you can’t really avoid smelling him (like a fucking weirdo). You’re only slightly disappointed to note that Jake smells really good. 

“Sweets! I thought you’d bailed!” He exclaims, letting you go only slightly so he can take a look at your face. “When did you get here?”

“Um, like ten minutes ago?” You try and push out of his arms but he’s got a strong grip on you–glancing to the side you see that he’s grasped his elbows so you’re completely stuck.

“Only one hour and fifty minutes left to go!”

And with that, you’re being hauled off by one arm through the frat house. You stumble on your feet but manage to catch yourself on Jake when you trip over a beer can someone just threw on the ground. He turns around with a glint in his eye.

“Sweets, if you wanted to cuddle, you should’ve just said so!” His tone is gleeful, but he steadies you gently anyway.

“Just get me a drink, Jake.” 

He doesn’t let you go but this time his grip is gentler and he walks at a human pace instead of trying to make record time. After turning a few corners, you finally arrive in the kitchen.

You have to admit, you’re sort of jealous. Your apartment isn’t tiny by any means, but you’d love to have a kitchen this sprawling, with its huge windows, what looks like a state of the art fridge, and granite countertops the sheer square footage of which could make you drool. You feel a rush of disappointment at how dirty it is in here, but you squash it remembering that this is a frat house. Clean is nowhere near part of these men’s vocabulary. 

Jake makes you a drink that seems to be some odd combination of liquors and juices (he avoids the jungle juice thankfully, almost turning green when you ask him if you should try some–“Not unless you want to spend all of tomorrow throwing up.”). When he hands it to you, he looks at you expectantly, like a child who just gave their parent a crayon drawing.

“Well? What do you think?” You grimace on instinct when the liquid hits your tongue, but you realize it’s actually not that bad. 

You tell him as much. Maybe you’re already starting to get drunk because it’s the only explanation for the way you think the look on his face could persuade you to drink three hundred cups of this if it means having him smile at you like that again. You keep drinking to avoid spilling your guts, figuratively.

Jake makes himself a cup while yammering on about planning the party, how he took shots with his frat brothers before you got here, and how he has a brunch planned Sunday with a few of his frat brothers. It’s all a bit too close, too intimate to be honest. Even with everyone around you, even with the way he almost has to yell so you can hear, it feels like it’s just the two of you. It makes you want to flee, but you force yourself to stay put in an effort to at least try.

And it’s not actually terrible. You keep sipping on the drink Jake made you, and try to engage with him. 

He’s in the middle of telling you a story about him and Bradley from freshman year when one of his frat brothers walks up to the two of you with a wicked grin on his face. 

“Now who is this, Jake?” He’s terribly handsome, but something about the way he’s looking at you sets you on edge. 

“Javy, meet sweets.” Jake gestures at you with his perfectly iconic red solo cup.

You roll your eyes at the introduction, “That’s not my name.”

But Javy doesn’t let you correct the record, instead his entire face lights up. He looks like a kid on Christmas as he wraps an arm around Jake’s shoulders and looks between the two of you, a gleeful expression spreading over his face. 

“You are famous in this frat, I hope you know that.”

You prepare yourself for a snide remark about your attitude in class, about your reputation, but instead Javy leans in close, so close that you can see how perfect his skin is (what the hell?), and he whispers conspiratorially, “Jake here never shuts up about you.”

The whisper clearly isn’t meant to keep much secret and Jake obvious hears him because he shoves Javy off him and starts waving his hands at him to shoo him off. When he turns back around, he’s blushing and you don’t think it’s from the alcohol or the heat. 

“Talking shit?” You cross your arms and raise an eyebrow expectantly, not knowing what you’d do with any other explanations. 

“Something like that. Want more to drink?” 

He clearly doesn’t want to talk about it, and he clearly doesn’t want you to remember this conversation either, because his next pour is overly generous. After that, he drags you out of the kitchen to ‘socialize’. He keeps you next to him, occasionally slinging an arm around your shoulders or even just leaning on you. 

Much to your dismay, Jake doesn’t let you wallflower, to disappear as you stand next to him–suddenly you’re being introduced to everyone in the frat. You grouse about being forced to remember a thousand different white men’s names and Jake’s laugh rises even above the din of the music and the chatter. You’re loath to admit it aloud, but it’s sort of nice, being included, being in on jokes and spoken to like you might have something funny or interesting to say.

Part of you wants to bring up what Javy said, because almost every guy that Jake introduces as being part of his frat smiles in the exact same way that Javy had. Like a cat who got the cream. But the alcohol is making your tongue heavy and you worry what might be said if you start down that path.

Then, you hear your name distantly, and you whip around to see Bradley making his way through the crowd waving wildly. Nearly missing elbowing some poor sorority girl in the head, he pushes past people. His face is flushed from drinking and the heat, and he’s got his phone pressed to his ear. Why he’s attempting to take a phone call in this type of environment, you’re really not sure.

When he gets to the both of you, he at least has the sense to hang up before he separates you from Jake when he sweeps you up into a bear hug that lifts your feet off the ground and crushes you to him. He seems so happy to see you, and you smile bashfully as you hug him back. 

Once your feet are back on the ground and Bradley’s released you, you notice how Jake has stiffened slightly beside you. He and Bradley engage in some long, complicated handshake that ends with jazz hands and eventually Bradley sweeps away in just the same way he came over. No words are exchanged, and Jake relaxes when Bradley’s out of sight.

“You’re being weird,” You accuse, leaning into Jake so you can get closer to his ear to be heard over the noise, “Well, you’re always weird, but you were being weird towards Bradley.”

“Was not.” Jake says haughtily, pouting lightly like a child. 

“You’re literally pouting right now.” You’re too tipsy to deal with him acting like you just took away his toy truck, and you poke his arm to emphasize your point. 

Jake immediately schools his expression before taking you by the arm and pulling you outside. His broad form clears the way for you and you do your best not to trip on any more beer cans. You two aren’t alone by any means, but here the sound has space to dissipate. There’s beer pong tables, a bonfire going (which, frankly, seems very unsafe), and people milling about. 

“Do you like Bradley?” The two of you are now standing off to the side of the sprawling deck behind the frat house, illuminated by a series of string lights that only seem slightly out of place for a frat house and Jake’s staring at you intently.

You shrug, “I mean, what’s not to like? It’s Bradley, I think we’re friends.” 

This is so awkward and you hate it with every fiber of your being.

He wrings his hands just a bit, and it strikes you that there’s a chance that he’s actually upset. It’s not the kind of annoyed that he always seems to take on when you two are going at it, it’s more genuine, like whatever he’s imagining might be enough to get him really worked up. He opens his mouth but then shuts it.

“Jake. What is wrong with me liking Bradley.” This is so ridiculous–standing in the backyard and trying to get Jake to talk about whatever issues he has or doesn’t with Bradley is probably almost as close to the opposite of socializing as just staying home would have been.

“You don’t like like him, though, right?” 

You roll your eyes and snap at him, “Jake, what is this, middle school?” He’s not calling you sweets, and when you notice, it bothers you just a tad more than you’d like to admit, “No, I like Bradley because he doesn’t yell at me when I correct his projections and he makes a mean chocolate chip cookie. He’s a friend.”

Everything about his demeanor changes in the oddest way when you say that, he peps up and it’s like the Jake that was pouty (jealous?) was never there, and he takes you by the hand, “Great! That’s solved then, let’s go play beer pong.”

You try to ignore the way you get emotional whiplash as he drags you over to the people standing around a folding table.

But you can’t help it. As Jake tries to teach you how to play beer pong you end up ruminating on whatever the hell that just was. Why would it bother Jake if you did “like like” Bradley? The two of you, you and Jake, could barely be classified as friends. Besides, as frat brothers, there’s no way both Jake and Bradley haven’t gotten around or even been with the same girl. No shame for anyone involved, but what’s his fucking deal? (And, Bradley’s a cutie, so what?) 

Eventually, you give up trying to figure out what Jake’s issue is as the two of you start losing at beer pong, and badly, given just how inebriated you are. Jake keeps trying to shout instructions every time you go to throw the ping pong ball and it keeps messing you up, so eventually you shove at him. He barely moves as he starts laughing at your anger.

“Jake! Stop messing me up!” You can feel how bad your coordination is from the alcohol as you stumble a bit as you lean your weight into him. “You’re making us lose!”

He can barely breathe through how hard he’s laughing at how far off your last shot had been, but he still steadies the both of you and wraps his arms around you, “Sweets you’re just too easy to mess up, oh my god. Are you even looking at the cups?”

You just hit his chest once as you start taking in the way that you’re pressed up against each other. He doesn’t let go of you. Instead, he just sort of lets you step back enough to have full control of your arms and continues standing at your side with his arms around your waist. Then, he starts leaning down to breathe instructions in your ear.

Normally you would find it in yourself complain about how gross having his breath in your ear is, but in that moment, already past tipsy and just enjoying the warmth of his body and skin against yours, all you can do is shiver. You fuck up your next shot worse than the last one. You hope it’s dark enough to cover how flustered you are as the patio lights glimmer weakly in the distance.

It takes your remaining sober thoughts to refocus on beer pong instead of how hard it hits you that you want Jake. 

It’s honestly the most fun you’ve had in a long, long, time and you lose yourself in it. Jake at your side, his arms wrapped around you, laughing loudly as you lose to team after team. He barely removes himself to make his shots. When he laughs it shakes your whole body. Every time he takes a step, he knocks your legs together so you move with him. 

You’ve continued drinking so you’re only getting progressively drunker and it only makes you focus on him more. You lose track of time completely and wholly.

Every time you turn to look at him or talk to him, Jake’s already looking at you. He keeps looking at your lips. In that moment, your rivalry, the project, and really, the entire world falls away. You have nothing to think about but how warm he is, how good he smells, and how you want to keep this moment in a jar so you can come back to it later. 

You think he might kiss you.

The moment breaks when you feel Jake’s phone start buzzing against your leg and he finally lets you go. In an instant, he takes a step back from you and his arms are gone. You didn’t realize just how much his body heat was keeping you warm in the cool evening air til he removes himself from you completely. You miss it immediately.

He steps off to the side, face completely impassive but frozen in a smile as he reads a text, and he starts typing furiously. The smile slides off your face as you think of all the girls in his phone who are probably waiting for his drunk “you up?” texts and you take a step back, putting more space between the two of you. Someone more important than you must want his attention.

“I, uh, I’ve got to go, sorry, sweets.” Jake says, but you don’t feel the apology as much as you do the rejection. It stings in the way a harsh winter wind burns at your cheeks, pricking your skin and raising the blood to your face.

Somewhere in your mind, you remember considering hooking up with someone tonight. That’s what people do, right? Get drunk, sleep with a stranger, then stumble home in last night’s outfit in the morning. And maybe somewhere along the way, maybe between drinks three and four, you’d thought about what it might be like to kiss Jake. At some point when you’d watched his eyes linger on your lips, you thought that was it.

You take a few steps back, trying to feel sober again, but swaying slightly without Jake to hold you, “Right.”

His face falls as he takes a step toward you, but the magic of the night is gone. There isn’t anyone standing on the opposite of the folding table anymore. The backyard is somehow too quiet despite the loudness coming from the house. Jake doesn’t reach for you when he sees the expression on your face. 

“I’ll uh, venmo you for the Uber.” His face betrays nothing but the cool indifference you remember from freshman year–are you really back to where you started after everything tonight?

Him offering to pay for you only makes you remember that you hate him–flirting with you all night then ditching you to go hook up with someone he actually likes. Classic Jake Seresin, everybody. 

-

You don’t care that he slept with someone else after how close the two of you were. You are deciding not to care. It does not bother you because you and Jake aren’t even friends, you are sworn enemies and the only reason you’re even going to these parties is so that you can ensure the project isn’t a flaming mess. 

You’re repeating these mantras to yourself from the moment you wake up, while you go to classes, while you avoid making eye contact with or speaking to Jake for fear he’ll know. You say it to yourself as you sit silently across from him in the library, headphones firmly over your ears so you don’t have to hear him ask if you want coffee. 

He brings you one anyway.

It’s clear that you are utterly failing to convince yourself, because all you can think about is how close he was, how the heat radiated off his body, how he smelled, and how his eyes flitted down to your lips ever so often. You feel like you want to crawl out of your own skin with the realization that you want Jake to want you. You’ve sort of always wanted his attention, it’s just that up until now it’s almost entirely been in the form of your little rivalry.

You find yourself scoffing as a thought comes to the forefront of your mind, It’s like in those romance novels. That shit does not happen to people like you.

The shame and desire washing through you reaches its peak when you find yourself biting into your fist with your hand between your legs a week after the party. All you can think about is how he’d smelled, how close he’d been to you, and the way his hands felt around your waist. You finish with a whine tearing itself from your chest and a deep sort of mortification coursing through your veins.

You can’t avoid him forever though, the work must go on. 

The thought of attraction goes as quickly as it comes when you find yourself sitting across from him at his and Bradley’s kitchen table again, the two of you bickering about a piece of analysis.

“Why do you refuse to listen to me, even the slightest bit, sweets? I’m literally second in our class, I can’t be an absolute idiot.” Jake looks at the ceiling as if some supernatural being will give him the strength to deal with you, and sighs heavily.

You clench your fists, “I’m not refusing to listen to you, Jake, I’m just telling you that you’re wrong.” You don’t remind him you’re first in the class.

Bradley walks in the kitchen, phone held casually in front of his face, a bag of chips grasped in his other hand. He stops to observe the two of you still arguing, now going on about a quiz question you two had disagreed on first semester sophomore year. He could be surprised that you and Jake have found something else to argue about, but then again Jake told him the two of you spent almost three straight hours arguing your first time together at the library. He’s also been witness to countless pointless fights about god knows what since the beginning of the semester.

“Can you two just fuck already, good god.” 

The room goes so quiet the only thing you can hear in your ears is your own heartbeat. Jake looks similarly mortified, cheeks turning red as he tucks his head to the side in clear embarrassment. The tips of his ears are bright red. 

Bradley, unaware of the absolute nuclear bomb that he just dropped, tucks his chips into the pantry, and leaves as the FaceTime call sound starts trilling from his phone. 

Neither you or Jake move. All you can think about is how you felt in that moment last Friday, Jake pressed up against you, his breath heavy in your ear, and his body solid and warm against you. You think about the way want had coursed through your veins when you’d been alone. But he doesn’t want you. His current reaction is evidence enough.

Jake’s the one to break the silence by muttering something under his breath. 

“What?” 

“I said, he’s one to talk.” He clears his throat and avoids eye contact.

You can’t take this, so you try to laugh a bit, but it sounds fake and tinny in your ears, “And I don’t know what he’s talking about. In case everyone’s lost their minds and forgotten, I do not like you, Jake Seresin.”

He laughs lightly in response and says, “People don’t use contractions when they’re lying.”

And you don’t really know what to say to that. Because you don’t really know if there is anything to say. So you decide not to say anything to that, at all.

“You still owe me twenty five dollars for the Uber.”

“Twenty five—“ Jake sputters, “Twenty five American dollars? Where the hell did you have him take you? Downtown and back!? You live twelve minutes from the house!”

“I tipped well.”

Jake mutters something about tipping culture being out of control but you still feel the way your phone buzzes so hard it rattles some pens strewn across the table.

-

When the second invite comes, you decide preemptively that you’re not going to drink. Your deal with Jake was about attending and staying for two hours, it said absolutely nothing about drinking or generally partaking in party activities. You don’t want a repeat of last time–you want the arousal that spikes your bloodstream every time you see his face to disappear as quickly as it came.

You’re avoiding Jake in the frat house by ducking into doorways and keeping an eye out for a blonde head of hair the best you can. At one point, Bradley spots you and sends a confused look your way, clearly scanning for Jake. He doesn’t do anything about it, you guess, because Jake doesn’t come running within the next ten minutes. 

Keeping yourself pressed to the wall where the music isn’t so loud but you also can’t hear the way people are very obviously doing drugs in the bathroom, you count down the minutes til you can leave. 

About five minutes before, you decide to sneak a peek in the kitchen one last time. Maybe you can rob these assholes of some Oreos or something as divine punishment–revenge of the nerds, or whatever.

When you get to the kitchen, you realize you’ve found Jake. His back is to you, and he seems to be holding court. Surrounding him is a group of frat brothers most of whom you don’t remember, with the exception of Javy, who’s leaning his elbows on the countertop and listening about as intently as a drunk person can. 

“She’s fucking stuck up man, I don’t know how you do it. I don’t think being that obnoxious is a requirement to be top of the class.” One of the frat brothers that usually surrounds Jake scoffs. 

You feel all the blood drain from your face and you suddenly feel like being sick. Backing away from the doorway to the kitchen you almost trip over your feet at the speed you’re trying to get away from the conversation, from Jake, from the frat house. 

There it is–there’s your out. Your ick, if you will. Jake, standing in his perfect kitchen, surrounded by a bunch of barely matured fraternity bros, talking shit about you. It’s not that the feelings of hatred weren’t technically mutual, but the extent to which you complain about Jake is usually limited to surface level shit. 

If you had stuck around for just a moment longer, you would’ve heard the way that he defended you over a chorus of agreement from around him, “C’mon man, it’s not like that. Don’t say shit like that about her. She’s under a lot of pressure and you’re kind of a dick in class anyway.”

But you don’t stick around. Instead, you push your way through the mass of bodies, accidentally stumble through a smoke circle, and you still seem so far away from the exit. You pass by Bradley again, and this time he’s with the girl that he insists is just a friend, but they seem too cozy for that in the moment. You don’t stop to say hi. 

When you finally get outside, your chest is heaving and you think you might be sick, alcohol aside. 

This is exactly why you focus on academics. They gave back as good as they got, never betrayed you, never let their friends talk shit about you. Academics never called you “stuck up”, stopping short of biting out the insult “bitch”. God you’re so stupid. 

You should’ve never let him get close, you should’ve stuck to the project and just finished it without ever learning more about Jake beyond the bare minimum. No evenings spent crowded around a countertop covered in textbooks and notes, Bradley humming in the background as he cooked something delicious. No letting Jake buy you coffee or cafeteria food. 

This is exactly what you deserve for letting him in.

----------

tagging: @roosterbruiser @joaquinwhorres @sometimesanalice @seresinsweetie @bobfloyds @theharddeck @jupitercomet @dempy @gigisimsonmars @sunsetsimpsblog @shanimallina87 @djs8891 @kajjaka @clancycucumber230 @desert-fern @bibitches-r-us @cruelmissdior @chaoticassidy @blue-aconite

[st4rrygrl]

The blatant lies in plagues (@/blood.plagues) "explanation" and more allegations. (Part 2)

Welcome back to the series of us sharing what we love about plague /sar. In the time period between this post and the one before it, we've found out more things that are either insane or just questionable.

1) Ableism.

This made me laugh when I first saw it as literally one simple google search and maybe 15 minutes of research could easily disprove this. According to this article by Mclean Hospital,

"BPD is a personality disorder that has historically been diagnosed in adults. However, despite the common misconception that BPD does not occur in those younger than 18, a significant body of evidence suggests it is possible for children and adolescents to begin to develop BPD before age 18.

Neither the current Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) nor the older versions of the DSM prohibit the diagnosis of BPD in young people.

According to BPD expert Blaise Aguirre, MD, “It is outrageous to think a clinician would not diagnose BPD when a person is seventeen years and 364 days old and then diagnose it the next day when the teen turns eighteen.”

Because teen personalities are still forming, young people may undergo many changes before they’re considered an adult. Mood swings, instability, and other symptoms may be a sign of hormonal fluctuations, stress, or anxiety.

Those who are experiencing symptoms of borderline personality disorder need help—don’t wait to seek care in the hopes that a behavior is “just a phase” or “they’ll grow out of it.”"

And that's just the first thing that comes up on google. Even if plague didn't know about this, it's reckless behaviour to fake claim someone who you aren't even in contact with, and double down on it when a simple google search would've told you that getting a diagnosis at 12 is in fact, possible.

This screenshot is even more disturbing than the last ones, he's straight-up mocking someone with down syndrome for literally no reason. There is no way to justify this, and the only way you could try to is if he was "ignorant" which would be a disgusting excuse, and mean nothing at the same time.

He cannot keep blaming everything on his "ignorance", his "dark and sexual humor", or the fact that he asked for permission. These need ACTUAL explanations describing exactly what was going on through his head while saying these. It doesn't matter if these were private conversations either-- it's still sickening to look at. Again, there's literally no way you could explain or defend this screenshot, it's actually heinous.

2) Plague's ignorance/Our statements.

In response to the screenshot of plague saying a slur he cannot reclaim, @/twproxy made a post addressing it. In the post, they shared this screenshot:

And I just wanted to offer my thoughts on this since this seems to be a very common pattern with Plague.

Even if these were private dms and that according to @/twproxy, people (lesbians) can't feel offended (even if the slur is offensive) because it wasn't directed at them, it's still reckless behaviour. Just the idea that he said a slur and had to be educated by people a decade younger than him is ridiculous. He's not a kid, he should know better. He could easily blame all of these screenshots, and this ENTIRE situation on him being ignorant, but we all know that's not true.

The slur was clearly said in a manner that meant it to be derogatory, anyone who can critically think can see that. Also like... it's clearly referring to lesbians (meaning that bisexual people can't reclaim it). Unless he's actually dumb and dense, he would realize that "hey! maybe that's a slur, let me search it up first to make sure!" but no, instead, he called a minor a slur that he cannot reclaim. What I'm trying to say is that he could easily be lying about this and just say "that he didn't know" to get them off of his back.

I'm not involved with this situation, nor do I know anyone who is, so maybe, just maybe there is in fact context I am missing. Maybe they said that he can call them slurs, which would be fine I guess. But to a regular person, this entire situation is just insane. From calling a 15 year old a derogatory slur he cannot reclaim, to pretending that he didn't know what it meant.

I wanted to talk about this in the post about him replying to his racism allegations, but I let Laila handle that one first. What I wanted to mention was how absurd it was that Plague saw a video of someone crying their eyes out about racism, and saw how clearly it affected them personally, and instead of apologizing like a normal person, he decided to "defend" himself by lying through his teeth.

I can't even find a word to describe that behaviour other than UNREAL. You SAW how your words affected people. and you wanted to double down on it and defend yourself instead of just admitting that you made a mistake and apologizing????

3) Plague using minors to defend himself.

It's also ridiculous how plague has minors writing posts defending him on tumblr instead of just addressing the allegations himself. It's pathetic and predatory to have minors do your dirty work. We won't share the screenshots unless we absolutely need to, to keep the people involved safe; but we were sent a pretty alarming piece of information. Plague has allegedly repeatedly asked one of his moderators to make a video about the situation to defend him.

I'll state it again, this is predatory behaviour. Minors shouldn't be fighting his battles and deal with the backlash. The longer Plague stays silent about this, the worse it's gonna get.

[the-harbour-official]

Harbour Drabble Event 2024 coming soon!!!!!!!!!!

Hey everyone! So brilliant news...July is coming up and I've been thinking about the drabble event we hosted in our server last summer, and how much fun it was and how batshit insane i went on it lol, and I've decided it's a good idea to host it again this year! so this is the post with all the important info for the Harbour Drabble Event 2024 <3333333

"what is this even anyway roo???"

you may ask! if you were not here a year ago! it's a very lowkey event, low commitment for anyone who wants to participate- basically the idea is that you write drabbles about The Starless Sea during or before the month of July and submit them, and I'll post them on this blog!

if you don't know what a drabble is!! it's a very short piece of fanfiction- we're going for this event with the traditional definition meaning its exactly 100 words of fic, usually capturing just one small moment! i highly recommend going for it if you've never written drabbles before, it's a really fun creative exercise and way to write fic without spending a huge amount of time! i had never written a drabble before we did this event last year and i became. quite prolific lol

"ok but what do i do with the drabbles tho????"

some options! you can:

post them to your own tumblr blog and tag us so i can reblog them!

submit them to this blog so i can post them!

if youre in the server and more comfortable with discord you can dm them to me and i will post them here!

"ok fine so what do i write drabbles about then"

the starless sea! lol

last year i gave myself a theme for every weekday (because i was posting AT LEAST once daily god that was unhinged id be like posting two drabbles from an airplane or some shit) but anyway i thought id use these as optional prompts for the event this year! these are not mandatory just some ideas of what to write!

More Drabbles Monday - anything lol

Time and Fate Tuesday - drabbles about Mirabel and the Keeper or their previous incarnations!

Cheese Wednesday - not actually one of my themes last year but kristin @boogleboot wanted a cheese day so a cheese day you will have my dear <333

Monday Part Two Thursday - anything again

Fateheart Friday - drabbles focusing on characters, events, and/or the new Harbour from Fateheart! (the greatest known work of tss fanfic if you havent read it you should)

Sad Times Saturday - angst <3333

Son of the Fortune Teller Sunday - drabbles about Madame Love Rawlins and her children <3333 (yes dorian and kat are her children be so fr)

more prompts may be to come! but yes submit drabbles any time from now until the end of July <33333 love you all peace out

[softstanb]

kidnapping toxicity (star eyes)

[aka no time to bleed]

i won't lie to you, dearest reader - this fic started in a buckwild way.

it's the summer. i'm queer. chappell roan sings the songs of my people. yet somehow the music video of casual, the lyrics, the melody, it all ingrained itself into my brain in a funny way. see, i ended up with about three ideas based off the song, each looser than the previous.

though it may not seem to be true, this fic was inspired by casual. that and this lovely little tweet. it drove me insane. sorry if it does the same to you.

but there's something else i'm not telling you. have you seen the movie predator? classic 80s action/horror. lovely little flick, not at all scary if you're a weenie. feels like terminator with neon green blood and bad heat vision.

if you've seen predator then you know exactly what i'm talking about. the beginning of the movie, before you even meet the predator, they raid what seems to be a cartel compound. they take this woman as a hostage. the alien starts fucking things up, but even throughout this she doesn't let them know she speaks english until she's seen the predator murder a guy. our lovely lady is our seokmin inspiration.

and there was something in me that was just itching to write something toxic for once. look through my backlog and you'll find softness overwhelmed with even more softness, tenderness filling the cracks. i write things that are meant to be cherished, relationships that feel like warm blankets and mugs of hot chocolate, your favorite books when you were nine and it was raining and nothing hurt and everything was okay.

i was a little bored. a little weary. i craved a toxicity you never see from me. this is what comes from it.

what's funny is that this fic actually had me crying in dms that it wasn't toxic enough. here i am, sobbing in my babies' dms, that our boy mingyu has too fast of a turn around for someone who is supposed to be the leading mc of a doc called "kidnapping toxicity (star eyes)". and sure, he isn't actually toxic enough to hold down this role, but he's toxic enough for the start for it to matter, i guess. besides, when i write, these stories take on a life of their own. all i do is just put them in a silly little doc and then release them to you. i don’t outline, i just vibe. i’m sure you all can tell.

this fic also has a bit of a funny story. it’s the second fic i’ve posted in a row at a wedding. in a different time zone. my streak is beyond bizarre but i should break it soon. i don’t have any more weddings on my immediate horizon so to keep it going you wouldn’t hear from me for almost years.

i intended a little more with this one too, sure. same shit different smell. ran up against the deadline with the force of an angry bull. ran into it a few more times too. fest mods deserve the world, truly. i love them and they’re too good for the rest of us. sure, i had other shit going on, but i still was an added stress in their life. but they told me not to be sorry. (i still am.)

anyways, the intent was to have a movie night or two. or just them binging movies and eating junk and doing nothing more than rotting as their matching wounds became matching scars. y’know, cute shit. but then i wrote the ending and i looked at it and looked at it again and realized that’s it. there’s nothing more i need to say.

there was an epilogue too, one i’m not going to promise to write. i won’t even tease it. it goes like this:

they get seok out. they get him off base and move him into that city that he once called home. it’s not really home anymore, something eerily reminiscent but to the left. something hazy with memories but with harsh realities poking through the nostalgia like machetes through sheets. it’s unsettling and off putting and just plain wrong, but it’s the closest civilization to the base for miles. his sister lives there. his mother visits, too. and though they don’t seek each other out, still far too scared of seokmin’s original captors coming back for them, even if their corpses are charred husks abandoned in the middle of nowhere they were a part of a network dammit, they see each other. they’re neighborly when they run into each other. if they leave each interaction more teary-eyed than the last, no one mentions it. the town is too good to.

and maybe there’s mingyu. mingyu, now desperate for an out, who latches onto seokmin like a snapping turtle who’s just got its jaws around a delicious treat it can’t quite break. he gets wounded again. something super fucked - think a demolished knee, a fused major joint, blurry vision that can’t be fixed. he’s declared unfit for duty and they plan an extraction date. is it an execution date? no one is sure. no one finds out either. he disappears into the trees, never to be seen again.

no one talks about the new man in the city, with his clumsy language and mysterious background and lover who looks at him like he has hung the moon, who stares right back at him like he’d give him the stars if he’d only ask for them.

that city holds both boys close to their chests and shields them whenever trouble rolls through. the city laughs in the face of danger. try us, they say, they are ours and you cannot have them.

and maybe there’s a bit of a treehouse somewhere in those woods. high and hidden unless you know where to look, know where to find it. seokmin brings the home cooked meals he grew up on and mingyu brings base favorites, leftovers concealed and treated as a gold standard currency. they hug and chat and catchup, jihoon recounting the newest way he’s made the suits lives shit and seokmin talking about his new adventures, about dreams he never thought he’d be able to have. he’s so much more alive that it’s common for men to come back from their “surveillance missions” and “general recon missions” with red puffy eyes. no one asks about it, for seokmin’s sake. even if he’s not there they know he’d be upset to find out they were teasing each other over happy tears.

and maybe they find another kid stuffed away on a compound, scared outta his mind. jihoon takes him to seokmin and leaves him there, knowing there’s no better hands for him to be in. he grows up loved and understood, even if he is technically fully grown. he gets years back to act like a kid.

a happy ending. hope for the future.

it’s a tcg fic. yall know the drill.

p.s. if it helps, since this is a vague predator au and that takes place in guatemala, the way i thought of the languages is like this:

- the base/soldiers/vague govt agency = english

- the compound/vague cartel stand in = spanish

- seokmin/the natives= an unspecified indigenous language/mayan/garifuna/xinca

kidnapping toxicity (star eyes) aka no time to bleed

other notes on my fics aka the index

[reptileofdoom]

Public PSA and Callout Of Hawkshadow/Luna: A Continued Pattern of Hurt and Manipulation PART 2 of 2

If you haven't read part 1, it is linked HERE:

If you have, then where we last left off, I had been guilted into continuing a friendship that was actively detrimental to my mental health; eventually causing a very bad anxiety attack over a small issue, over which I was gaslit to hell and back with Luna's insistence to berate me, causing in me accepting all fault and blaming myself for the incident.

After this, there weren't any large fights until January. This was for 2 reasons:

a) I had received anxiety pills from my psychiatrist, which I started using anytime a conversation with Luna would make me very anxious again

b) During the period of late November - end of December, she became busy on working on her large holiday fic. Our conversations became more sparse as she was, apparently, completely consumed by it.

But we were brought back together as Luna, out of nowhere, suggested working on a fic together.

This was... weird to me. For context: Luna and I had attempted to work on fics before. We'd have an idea in DMs, talk about it, create a shared doc, and then... NOTHING from her. I am not joking when I say I would write up to 4 thousand words in a document without a single contribution from her. This was back at the beginning of our friendship. As a result, I had given up on ever writing anything with her. So for her to just suggest working on a fic together out of the blue was... really weird.

(Side note: Luna and I had a lot of fic ideas in our pinned messages. At the time it completely slipped my mind that the only reason I brought up a/b/o had been because I'd just read a fic and wanted to talk about something similar. So our discussion of the idea happened months ago - it was only after the whole fiasco was over that I remembered, oh shit, it had originally been inspired by something else. So I apologize for the unintended idea stealing.)

I am including the following screenshot as 1 - proof we really did talk a lot about so many ideas; and 2 - as the most likely theory for why she was suddenly up for writing a fic with me.

She wanted to write something, but didn't think she would have time to do it by herself. So she hit me up. This becomes ironic later on because she ended up completely destroying my ability to work on the fic.

Bonus: her changing things I myself had written in the fic and only asking me if it was okay afterward. I... didn't really feel like I could disagree and argue with her.

In the middle of everything, an event occurred which I can only refer to as The Like Drama. This event is going to have its own post because it spans 10 screenshots and is, even more than anything in this whole series of events, incredibly inane, hard to follow, and it's insane it was ever made a big deal in the first place. It is, however, a very fantastic example of Luna's casual manipulation and general obsessiveness with public image.

The Like Drama post HERE:

Back to the fic saga:

A short time after this, after editing my words and only asking permission afterwards, I was scrolling Twitter and an announcement Tweet from Luna popped up on my timeline. (I don't have the capacity to go make an alt and try to search through her account for it, but it was public and many people can certainly remember it.)

It read, in summary: that she was working on an omegaverse fic and to stay tuned. A couple of things to highlight, specifically:

a) there was no mention of me, or any co-author in the tweet

b) this tweet was made without any sort of discussion with me

c) I have an Actual Massive Trigger around pressure; something I would talk about extensively in her server. Both Raelle and Cass (vegaspetesupremacy / sketchyshit) are willing to back me up on this. It used to be so bad that I could not tell anyone what I was working on, otherwise I would be unable to finish it.

(if anyone is wondering about the legitimacy of such a trigger - I used to attend a massively abusive private school for almost 8 years. It fucking sucked.)

Luna knew about this trigger. And not only did she post a tweet like that, in what follows after, she proceeds to stomp all over my boundary.

On January 19th I woke up to the message that a friend had committed suicide.

At the same time, the fic had gone up during the night - but it wasn't what I focused on because I was emotionally broken up. I made a Twitter post about taking some time off to grieve.

After crying, I was left alone with my thoughts. And my email notifications were pinging with people commenting on the fic. So I thought: why not reply? Luna had previously mentioned finding comment replies draining; I felt like I could do something useful.

And this is where things went wrong. As mentioned, I was not in a good headspace. So when some comments featured the typical begging for more ie "please please write a chapter 2!!" I was very blunt with reinforcing my own boundary; telling them quite frankly that it's uncomfortable and if they keep going, I will block them.

Were my replies graceful? No. But I was grieving and did not have the capacity to care.

Here is my final conversation with Luna, after which we never spoke again.

That's it. That's the end of our conversation.

Luna did not reply to me for 2 entire days. During this time, she wrote and published a drabble for one of the commenters.

Formerly, this conversation also had a message or two from me along the lines of "Luna? Please respond, please." I deleted these after seeing that. (That entire conversation, I was waiting on a single "I'm sorry for your loss" from her; at one point I specifically tried to allude to my situation to see if she knew, but she did not acknowledge it.)

After 48 hours, I unfollowed Luna on Twitter and left her server; mostly to see if it would make her react.

In response, she hard-blocked me. She chose her followers and fame over our friendship for good.

During this 48-hour period, I had also thought to message Raelle regarding my general frustration, almost as a last call for help. Because to be clear: this interaction left me sobbing and wailing on the ground. In essence, I had lost two friends on a single day. I could not fathom why she was treating me this way, what horrible thing I may have done to deserve this.

Not to be sappy, but: I really, really want to be clear how much I owe to Rae. She allowed me to vent and show her what happened: I asked her multiple times if I was out of line, because I thought it must be something I had done. She was my first outside perspective on my interactions with Luna; she was the one to tell me "you don't deserve to be treated like this." Without her, I would have probably ended up crawling back and begging Luna to forgive me, possibly trapping myself in months more of miserable friendship.

And here is something incredibly scary: If Luna had just.. given a single reply. Just a single "Wait for me a few days, we'll talk later." I wouldn't be here right now.

Even months after everything happened, I was still wracked by guilt and felt like I would sacrifice anything just to have that friendship back. My friends had to talk me down, sometimes, from messaging her begging her to take me back. After the first few days, I unblocked her on Twitter and kept her unblocked for close to a month - just in case that maybe, possibly, she ever wanted to talk to me again.

I'm not under any illusion as to what this treatment is comparable to. Some people, when shown everything, have told me the word "abuse" could apply - but I hesitate to use it, and am actively choosing not to include it as an accusation; because it is heavy and loaded and I do not want anyone to misunderstand.

Unfortunately, the story doesn't end here.

After leaving the work, something happened: despite me leaving, Luna had not edited the Author's Note to include mentioning me. In fact, it almost seemed like she wanted to avoid mentioning me; since the fic has been deleted, I am including proof through old DMs with Raelle (me reacting to this situation). (I become quite angry in these screenshots. I apologize for the name-calling.)

Quick context for what I mention here: After I became unable to work on the fic, Luna would reassure me "it's fine, you already did so much" when I expressed guilt. So... yeah, seeing this comment was a betrayal. PLUS the fact she froze it.

So, in my anger and frustration I decided to make a Twitter post; SOLELY because of the no-credit issue. At that point, I didn't want to expose Luna's treatment of me because I still had trouble accepting that it wasn't mostly my fault.

Here is the post I made, which turned into a thread as she made her own thread and misrepresented what I said: https://twitter.com/reptileofdoom/status/1616908647048613888?s=20

As a response to this, Luna created her own thread which she started sending to everyone. And not just everyone she knew, but asking those people to share it with everyone they know. (The thread has since been deleted, presumably after people pointed out inaccuracies and/or she realized she was just giving the issue more publicity.) The main piece of misinformation in the thread was her claiming I was credited in the Author's Note: this only became true after my post went public and she did it, presumably, as a way of covering her ass.

Proof, provided by kiwibin (thank you so much):

(shown through discord search because the chat was extremely active at the time and there are a million unrelated messages)

Additional proof of the thread being sent to Rae, her defending me to Luna, and Luna's response (screenshots provided by Raelle, thank you so much):

Bonus points: Misgendering lol. You only have my word on this, but her thread also featured a screenshot of a conversation with one of the "upset commenters" who misgendered me and Luna did not correct them, instead reassuring them she still loved them or whatever. She posted it as proof of how much I upset her followers.

These next images are of Rae crafting her response at the time, but it is what she ended up sending:

(As mentioned before, Rae is an angel.) (Cut off because stupid image limit, so I had to prioritize more important conversation.)

Finally, last of all:

There is a reason I have called all this a "continued pattern." In the time afterward, as I was dealing with my own emotional fallout and had trouble processing everything, I reached out to someone Luna had mentioned to me as a "former best friend (who abandoned her)." The conversation was... illuminating, and gives information about Luna's time in her previous fandom, MDZS.

Thank you so much, lunarwriter, for allowing me to add your voice to this.

As mentioned in these screenshots, there is a pattern:

Luna approaches someone, usually someone with some sort of "value" - either with many followers, or because of their writing/art. (in some ways, I was the exception: she messaged me because we wrote an impromptu threadfic in replies) (this would later be turned into her fanfiction Mortifying Ordeal, once again without credit to me, which I didn't think to question at the time. )

She pulls them into her circle. When we were friends, it was "invite them to the server" - which may be dead now because I was the one usually working very hard to keep it from going dead. But this part features a lot of compliments, asking to sprint together, gushing about how she loves their work, messaging a lot, etc.

Then comes the part where she gets value out of someone. Last I heard, she was doing it through collabs.

Here is where it gets... fuzzy because this part is usually in DMs. But people I have spoken to have mentioned experiencing some form of manipulation or another, usually to satisfy Luna's ego - constantly comparing followers, statistics, etc. Or in my case, becoming a sort of sounding board, someone to be a cheerleader for her and constantly comfort whenever she needs it - but heaven forbid I ask for some comfort back.

Just to be clear: the amount of manipulation used varies person to person.

Since I was vulnerable and easily taken advantage of, she used a heavy hand with me: which is why she was able to completely destroy me in such a relatively short amount of time.

If you are someone who is older, or has more "star power", maybe you haven't noticed these things! Or she hasn't felt the need to use it on you! Or you are special, or I am somehow mistaken about everything.

There is a very good reason why, in our final conversation, I pointed out she would not be acting the same way toward me if I was older and had "popularity."

At the end of the day, Luna is someone who, when allowed power over someone else, uses it to hurt people over and over again.

I expect her response to be something like this: Pick a point or two to focus on, ones where it was harder to find proof, or ones where I did not think to include some related conversation beforehand. Make her entire point around that. Claim I am trying to hurt her; paint herself as the victim. Vent to everyone around it, make very sad posts, share her inevitable "defense" with everyone. (If I'm wrong, I'm gonna donate $20 to charity. Not joking.)

As mentioned before, this isn't a call for "cancelling" or whatever. First and foremost, it is a PSA, a way to show these techniques and to help people guard against them more effectively. Second of all, it is a way for me to heal: the nature of everything made it hard to talk about these things openly without having proof lined up. By making this post, I am allowing myself to open up, to be clear about my boundaries, to be able to be honest with people and say "sorry, I can't follow you because you reblog her stuff sometimes and that makes me have panic attacks." Yes, there is some small amount of petty satisfaction to be made making this post; but that is only its very last purpose.

I want to end the post on some positive information:

I am doing alright now. I was able to move out in March and adopted a kitty in April. I am in therapy and have been able to discuss this whole issue extensively. I have a close friend group within the fandom now, who I have been able to rely on, again and again. Thank you so much, everyone - you know who you are <3

And I was going to end with an image of the kitty but :c hit image limit. So, have a good day, everyone.

[saltpepperbeard]

hi lets show some love for our mutuals. tag your favorite mutuals and tell them why you love them

Oh, anon <3. I so very love that you're spreading this loveliness around, because I ALSO love talking about dear mutuals so LET'S GOOOOO:

@ella-doe - My WIFEY <3. Arguably the #1 Stiddies Fan, and ASSUREDLY the #1 Daddy Jenki-(GETS SHOT). Talking to her is always such a delight; she's so lovely and supportive. Started from the bottom (occasionally screaming over something in DM's), now we're here <3 (married like 4 or 5 times over at this point idk).

@blakbonnet - MY PARTNER IN CLOWN CRIMES 🤡. Any time ANYTHING clown-specific occurs, Meow is like the first person I think of hsdjksds. And I think the feeling is mutual; we both have matching rainbow wigs at this point 🤡🤡🤡. Can't wait to start the clownery right back up after season 2 airs lmao like ALRIGHT, SEASON 3 TRAILER???? 🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡

@dickfuckk - Josh and I were having a time and a half when some footage of Taika in his S2 Ed getup dropped lmao. Like we Saw God for a split second there. So he understands me on like a fundamental and deep level. He ALSO has saved my life numerous times when it comes to panels, or any other sort of cast/crew-related video. Had it not been for his sacrifices and battles against Pop[redacted] lmao, I would've missed MANY a panel.

@bizarrelittlemew - Talented beyond belief, like holy SHIT. Makes immaculate gif sets (DJenks even reblogged one so like, 🎵can I make it anymore obvviousss🎵), and is also an INSANE writer. Need y'all to know that Keep Your 'Lectric Eye On Me, Babe is in my regular rotation, but I'm just always so SO astounded by everything she makes.

@snake-snack-stede - Regularly makes me laugh OUT LOUD with her memes and commentary. Like, if ever I come across a post with her name on it, I know there's like a 100000000% chance it will make me release some sort of "bAHAAAAA." The wheezes I've whoozed,,, So, she's always very much a welcome presence on my dash.

@sherlockig - If EVER you need a good screen grab/edit of OFMD, Alexz is 10000% your best bet. Has probably captured and edited every inch of the show, which is perfect for the times where you want to see a specific moment and cry/throw up/pass out over it being so wonderfully frozen.

@stedebonnets - The sweetest, loveliest darling of a human being I ever did know. Is always SO wonderfully supportive, and just radiates warmth and niceties. Also makes IMMACULATE gifs; inspired me to turn up the Coloring Heat on a lot of my own, really! And I also just learned that the first OFMD thing I ever reblogged was actually one of her sets, so she's VERY IMPORTANT TO ME SHDJKLS <3

@xoxoemynn - Speaking of understanding me on a deep and fundamental level lmao, EM UNDERSTANDS ME ON A DEEP AND FUNDAMENTAL LEVEL SHDKJS. We keep cracking each other up because like, we'll share the most random opinion ever, only for us to realize we align EXACTLY. she makes me feel Seen, okay. she makes me feel UNDERSTOOD SHDJKSL. Also, her writing is so so lovely, and her presence is even lovelier <3

@forpiratereasons - Produces some of my favorite writing in the entire fandom. I am so SO fond of so many of her stories, and regularly re-visit a lot of them. Insane to me that we regularly cross paths now, because I remember seeing her works before I was officially in the fandom. AND NOW SHE REBLOGS MY SETS??? AND I CAN ALSO SCREAM DIRECTLY @ HER???? #BLESSED HSDJKLS

@not-nervous-jester - And SPEAKING of favorite writing, darling Jams wrote one of my favorites aka Somewhere in the Water. YES, I bring this up a lot, but LISTEN LMAO, I NEED THEM TO KNOW 🔪. I NEED THEM TO UNDERSTAND HOW LOVELY IT IS/THEY ARE 🔪🔪❤️❤️ HSKDJS. And aside from their lovely writing, they also Hear Me Out and hype up my silly goofy screaming fits, which is ALWAYS appreciated <3

@skysofrey - AN ABSOLUTE RAY OF SUNSHINE. I see those 💛💛💛 in the tags or on a post, and just immediately feel so much sunnier myself. Just so so sweet and lovely, and just like Jams, ALSO furthers my hollering/analysis/breakdowns PFFFF. A Hypeman (gn) for the Screams™

@crueley - Yet another person who just Gets my Taika breakdowns, and has also been the DIRECT CAUSE OF MANY SHDKLSKD. Like sometimes I'll just wander into their gif tag, and lol oh no BOOM I've suddenly spiraled down into the abyss. But I can't even be mad about it because we bonded over Mostin Posts, and have been crashing downwards ever since <3 PFFF

@awkward-fallen-angel - Extremely fond of Heather, because he was one of the first people to ever try and talk to me when I first got into the fandom! It's always very daunting wandering into a fandom space, especially after the fact/after things have already dropped. So, she made me feel welcomed/included, and allowed me to find my footing a bit faster as a result. And even though he's busier with life, I still always think about her! Like, that one picture from last October-ish where it was all the spooky mutuals around the cafeteria table? STILL THE MOOD <3

@blackbeardskneebrace - Miles' art drives me bonkers bananas in the best way possible. They always capture the likeness of the characters SO freaking well, and have posted so many creative pieces that my mind gets boggled on the regular. Also, my go-to for FORGS,,, I really love froggies as well, so seeing Little Guys and subsequent facts about them on my dash is SUCH a delight.

@darkinerry - Regularly decks me upside the head with Taika footage I've never seen before, and I cannot express how happy that makes me LMAO. Like, I'll just be minding my business, and suddenly I'll be steaming in a Jodi-shaped crater in the ground because a Taika Gym Set or something equivalent from Marlena has slammed my sorry self through sheets of bedrock idk </3.

@adickaboutspoons - Writes the most poetic, and I mean, THE most poetic tags. I regularly get exposed to just lovely MASTERPIECES of thoughts, and it's like reading a beautiful fanfiction at the bottom of a gif set. Also, regularly backs Stede up, which is always appreciated because I'm holding him so tenderly in my hands at all times. So she GETS IT <3

@aha-my-villainous-thoughts - Creates some of the most striking art EVER. I've said this before, and I'll say it again; the usage of COLOR knocks my socks clean-off. like lol they're gone where did they go idk i am SOCKLESS OVER SUCH LUMINESCENCE. Every piece seems to GLOW, and it's just an absolute marvel to stumble across each and every time. I'm just in a constant state of being blown away, and LOSING MY SOCKS SHDJKLS <3

[bonsha]

LAST TIME, ON DND:

Little Snowflake (@the-stilting-peace's Tabaxi), Vesper (my drow), and Greenbeard (post-on-tumblr-already's deep gnome) are trapped in the room of ooze! Sniv, our beloved Kobold guide, gets his only braincell iced by the ooze monster, throwing him into death saving throws. Two saves, two losses.

Now, for some reason, the dice gods have cursed Little. She’s gotten more Nat 1s than any other party member. And guess what happened when she tried to stabilize Sniv? Yep. She would have just straight up killed him. BUT, she had inspiration (gotten by saving a life, ironically), but considering her insane bad luck with Nat 1s, we were all nervous it'd happen again. DM even said if it did, he'd make her Nat 1 curse an actual plot point in the story. But it was either use the inspo or have Sniv die. As she was rolling, Greenbeard and I were chanting "gatote!" ("big kitty" in Spanish) in the OOC chat, sending all our prayers to the dice gods.

She rolled, and it WASN'T a Nat 1! Instead it was a 9, meaning Sniv would have one more death saving throw on his turn.

BUT WAIT! I remembered Little had gotten a guidance bonus from her god the session before, so she could add a 1d4 for every skill check. Didn't matter what she rolled on the bonus, SNIV WOULD LIVE!!!!! We all went fucking insane in chat, it was AMAZING. Then after he was stabilized, Little stuffed him in her shirt, like he was a wad of cash, to continue fighting the ooze monster.

Can't quite beat when our 9 ft tall wolf-shifter druid was possessed by Goatman (another story), but it's up there. As for why this looks like a 2000s-esque abomination? Don't know, I'm just weird. Glad I didn't add the goo though.

(Hilariously, Sniv was supposed to die in one hit. DM didn't realize he misread the rules until the death saving throws were underway, so he went, "Meh, I'll allow it." Bless you, DM!)

[sleepylilbuggie]

storytimeeeeeee <333333

i would like to tell a story. now, i won't say i'm a good storyteller, but i do believe it is worth the read. no promises though. i joined tumblr in the middle of the summer. i was on tumblr for a fleeting moment back in the day when it was gaining popularity, but this is the first time since. i had little to no expectations, i'm usually pretty quiet on the internet. i thought maybe i'd have a place to shit post, maybe make some online friends. to my surprise, i have found something much greater than that. it was the 12th of august. someone had interacted with one of my posts, so i thought that i'd try to be funny and dm them about it. well, that turned out to be the best thing i ever did. she and i really hit it off. we were talking every day. i tend to be one hell of a flirt, and with her there was no exception besides the fact that i actually meant it. it really didn't take long for me to actually become invested. it was terrifying at first. she lives so far away, we both had weird situations going on. plus, i've liked people since, but i hadn't been in a relationship for about four years prior. however, none of that was going to stop me. texting all day turned into nighttime calls, and nighttime calls turned into 24/7 calls. we fell hard, and fast. on the 31rst, just a few weeks after meeting her, i asked her to be mine. this was the second best decision i've ever made, trailing closely behind sending that first message that dramatically altered the course of my life in the best way possible. for our one-month anniversary, as a way to say fuck distance because i am far more powerful, i bought a plane ticket to her for a few months from then. now, it's important to note i had never been on an airplane before, nor have i even seen an airport close up, but nothing was going to stop me. we had a few rough months leading up to the trip. although the time we spent with each other looked a little different, there was no doubt that the love was still there. in what seemed like no time at all, but also excruciatingly slow, months turned to weeks, and week turned to days and all of a sudden i was taking one last look around my dorm on my way out the door knowing when i went to sleep that night i'd be on the other side of the country, in my girlfriend's bed. i can't lie and say that being with her in person felt any different. more whole, maybe, like coming home. no matter how we were talking, in the little computer box or face to face, she's always her. sure, i miss the cuddles and the kisses but i'll have that all again. if i close my eyes tight enough as i drift off to sleep, i can almost feel them, anyway. the important part to me is that she's proven her love and patience for me again and again. i really do believe she is it for me. i don't know where i'd be without her. it's hard to believe that some silly social media site full of people who are a tad bit more than borderline insane (i'd say no offense... but..) was the cause of all of this. how did i get so lucky that the right person interacted with my post on the right day and i was bold enough to reach out? it's funny how the world knows just when to let something good happen, hmm? nearly six months down, and a lifetime left to go. happy valentine's day, bunny. i love you! <33

[bramstr0k3r]

okay I am going to be insane in your reblogs sorry. I will be answering these all out of order (sorry) (under a cut because I am. Wordy)

1- Armand saying what Alice thought. To me, there’s really only two options presented here, and the two options hinge on whether or not you believe Alice is a Real Person (not just a warped memory of Armand). However, both options, to me, imply that DM has already happened in some form, it’s just whether or not it’s ongoing at the time. Our options are a) Alice is real, and Armand knows her thoughts because he’s been stalking Daniel. He would, presumably, have had to be within a certain physical proximity to have been able to hear her, which means he’s actively choosing to follow Daniel around for whatever reason. Then we have option b) which is that Armand himself is actually Alice and that’s why he knows what she was thinking. This is admittedly a lot most simple and straightforward but also this show/canon looooooves toxic messy gays so not ruling out stalking just yet.

2- Daniel feeling safer to hold Alice’s hand in Paris. This one, admittedly, I am not quite as confident in answering. However, I believe that if we choose to operate under the belief that Alice is in fact Armand, the answer, I feel, would be that (please inform me if this is wrong this is after internet research which could easily be mistaken or flawed) Paris seems to have been a lot more LGBT friendly than plenty of places in America at the time. From what I’m seeing online, the laws that had been utilized to discriminate against homosexual couples in public were repealed in 1980, around (or shortly before) when Daniel presumably would have been there with “Alice”. Now me personally, I feel like that line in general has to be indicative of something, even if it’s not the Alice is Armand theory, because why else would Daniel not feel free to hold a woman’s hand?? As someone else on this post suggested, it’s possible Alice was black, but like. Idk it’s definitely a line that makes your ears perk up because what exactly are they trying to get across with it?? There’s no logical reason I can think of that he would feel ashamed or unsafe to be seen with a woman romantically in the States, unless of course that “woman” was actually an Indian twink who went in and photoshopped his memories for some reason we don’t know yet. My ONLY guess personally as to what this could be if Alice was in fact an actual real woman (besides for the aforementioned possible race aspect) would be like. Either she’s transgender (so there’s still that queerphobia angle at play) or if he had too much of a reputation for his habits (with both drugs and men) and was scared of someone saying something.

3- Daniel’s flashback of Armand during all this. So to me this one specifically is the most damning proof of the “Armand is Alice” theory, and I have 2 ideas for it. Either a) this is Daniel’s subconscious, somewhere deep, deep down that remembers on some level that this is Alice, Alice is Armand, and it is trying to help him piece together the puzzle and notice that the missing shape is suspiciously Armand-like. Then we have option b) Armand himself is projecting this image into Daniel’s mind to sort of test the waters during this scene. How much does he remember?? How much could he remember? How quickly can he fit the puzzle pieces into place if I gently nudge this piece towards the corner it goes in? It’s like telling g someone a story they don’t really remember and showing them photos/videos from it to try to jog their memory.

For you that don't believe Alice was actually Armand in some of Daniel's memories, how do you explain the "you felt freer to hold her hand in Paris. I wonder why that is" and Armand saying what Alice thought? And Daniel having flashbacks of Armand that very moment? I am genuinely asking! I sort of can explain 2/3 but not the hand holding.

[coldprimavera]

Thread by @wwxwashere on Twitter

⚠️ WHAT IS HAPPENING IN BRAZIL: a thread ⚠️

am i going insane or more of the world should care about a country generating covid variants that could spread internationally? right

spoiler alert: covid is killing us. badly. no, it's not this bad everywhere. yes, you should care.

our government is DELIBERATELY and CLEARLY trying to kill us, not only not doing anything but actually trying to stop any help from getting here, with censorship to go with it.

PLEASE, READ RHIS THREAD

it's NOT this bad everywhere:

"No other nation that experienced such a major outbreak is still grappling with record-setting death tolls and a health care system on the brink of collapse."

yes, you SHOULD care:

"Preliminary studies suggest that the variant that swept through the city of Manaus is not only more contagious, but it also appears able to infect some people who have already recovered from other versions of the virus."

you REALLY should care:

"And the variant has slipped Brazil’s borders, showing up in two dozen other countries and in small numbers in the United States."

1 in every 4 covid deaths WORLDWIDE is happening in brazil, INTERNATIONAL MEDIA ISN'T TALKING ABOUT THIS ENOUGH.

our president?

- calling it "a little flu"

- literally making trying to legally stop states from lockdown

- blocked any attempts to get vaccines here for months

- recommended meds with no scientific proof which caused SEVERAL other deaths for overuse of improper meds

he refuses to wear a mask in public but it's not just the things he isn't doing, it's the deliberate steps he takes to make sure ANYONE who tries to do ANYTHING to help (even the US!!!!!!!! OFFERING US VACCINES FOR MONTHS!!!!!!!!!!!!) is shut down.

we have no oxygen. no ICU beds. no proper masks. basic food is so expensive here the country is falling back to hunger, so whoever is not dying from covid is dying out of starvation or due to the complete and utter collapse of our healthcare system.

if you read the articles i post here you will know brazil has a RECORD of being GREAT in this type of scenario & getting vaccines to everyone fast as fuck.

this is a DELIBERATE ATTEMPT TO KILL US, i couldn't possibly stress that enough.

who is it killing? take a guess.

"The study also found that Black Brazilians were likelier to lose their jobs or face pay cuts than white people during the pandemic. The death rate in poorer cities has been substantially higher than in rich ones."

BY JANUARY OF THIS YEAR the ny times was reporting "The country has not yet approved any of the vaccines on the market."

NOT EVEN APPROVED. ANY. OF THE VACCINES.

this isn't a tragedy, this is our government's plan.

again, why are people not helping? i have no clue.

"On Friday, officials at the World Health Organization called the surge of cases in Brazil deeply troubling and warned that it could wreak havoc well beyond the country’s borders."

censorship? oh yeah, the president's son is trying to silence a guy who made a TWEET calling the president out. & that was only news not a shady unexplainable death bc the guy is famous and rich in the first place.

this is not the only threat he has made, btw. during his CAMPAIGN he said he'd kill people who opposed his government. that is how low we are.

10,3MI brazilians might starve to death and things are only getting worse:

have i proven my point? cuz honestly there is no lack of evidence, but i can go graphic if you need to hear what happens when a patient needs oxygen or an ambulance and our hospitals can't provide it.

no? yeah. better not.

"ok but what can we do"

TALK. ABOUT. THIS.

WHY IS NOBODY TALKING ABOUT THIS.

WHY IS THIS NOT EVERYWHERE.

WHY IS NOBODY HELPING.

i literally feel crazy, as if this is only happening in my head. every brazilian i know is desperate and nobody cares.

"ok but what else"

we need donations, badly. money for food, masks, literally all supplies. if you are a single person guess what THERE ARE NO ORGANISED WAY TO HELP YET you literally need to find a brazilian or learn portuguese to be able to get to local donations centres.

have i mentioned nobody cares? how is a country going through this massive of a crisis with a government trying to kill and silence us yet there people barely heard about this???? given IT IS CREATING DEADLY VARIANTS THAT ARE SPREADING BEYOND BORDERS

oh my god i feel insane

special call-out for portugal & also the US for fucking us up historically

https://t.co/JQ9LBkfSIV

per request i will make an english speaking video about brazil's covid situation to be posted @ youtube.com/c/AndressaBuss later this week

🌟DONATIONS LINKS🌟

update: if you want to place a donation to @CUFA_Brasil or @maesdafavela i will offer free portuguese-english translations to help with the process.

email me @ thatkindofblue@gmail.com (i can't keep up with DMs here)

You can also try to finda artists or writers or professionals in brazil and hire them! or tip them a kofi! Or simply search for "brazil" in the search and help out by sending one dollar or two in kofi or gofundmes that will also help brazilians staying safe

i will keep linking more as i find it. donation centre to get basic food to people who need it: https://t.co/gFZdskBE6G

Update: finally managed to get an extensive list of options for donations after over 24hrs trying, from jun last year so some campaigns have ended but there's still plenty to choose from

(again: im available for free translations & help in your donation process if you need it)

just assisted in a R$740 donation process to the above donation centre & i am working on putting together a list of various options for donations as well as brazilian artists who are making emergency commissions :)

im mostly trying to assist people place the donations themselves & when i have to place the donation i offer vast proof (of whatever kind you need) of each transaction

im not a random account with no face behind it, im a broke history teacher who has covid, im trying to help

Thread by @wwxwashere on Twitter

And before i forget:

BOLSONARO GENOCIDA!

[dadsbongos]

trashy dad

Movie/Game/Show: My Hero Academia Dynamic: Shota Aizawa/Reader (Platonic) Warnings: references (2) to un*s ann*s, one (1) use of (y/n), fem pronouns Summary: Shota trying to support his YouTuber daughter :) cuz social media aus own me Word Count: 2.1K ~~~

"Hey, gamers," you grin at the camera before tossing an arm over your father's shoulders, "My dad's in town and as you can see," you hesitated slightly before turning to face your father, "Dad's not super into taking care of himself. So, I figured what's better than doing a Q&A together while I do his makeup?"

"Hitoshi just did a 'what I eat in a day', didn't he?" Shota quirked a brow, already reaching back to tie up his messy, tangled hair.

"Spoilers!" you quietly whine as you open your phone, "He still has to edit it, silly man. We're gonna have to brush out your hair later, by the way."

Shota's eyes widened, "We? I thought this was your idea and video, (Y/n)."

"No," you huff, scrolling through a few of the questions from fans, "I mean it was but your hair is so… Okay, first question is from - oh my God the names - shrekslongtoe, what was my first word?"

"Are you gonna start putting makeup on me or just sit there?" Shota scratched at his nose before snickering, "That wasn't your first word. Your first word was 'Dada' and it drove Hizashi insane."

"Hizashi is my other dad, by the way," you lean over to grab your makeup bag, "'Toshi and I call him papa. Oooh, oh no," you looked up to Shota, "I don't have your shade, you're gonna look weird."

"I don't really care," the man shrugged, watching as you took out a pink beauty blender, "That looks like a buttplug."

"Don't say that!" your eyes were wide at his words while you got out your foundation, "Youtube doesn't like that."

"Whoops," he deadpanned, "Next question."

"Shit, right."

"Language."

"Japanese," you murmur, going to the next reply, "yoonbumskneecap asks, 'Did you believe in me-’ they said my name but you know, ‘and Hitoshi when they decided to become Youtubers?' And 'in 'Toshi's case - drop out of college to become a professional clout man.'"

"To be honest," Shota closed his eyes, only in slight fear, as you began pressing the foundation into his skin, "I was really worried about Hitoshi, I didn't know if he'd stay as big as he was because he's a lot like me, in the sense that people tend to not like us for our bluntness. So I was worried he'd be a meme for like a month and then people would drop him, but thankfully I was proved wrong," he opened his eyes when he felt you pull away and begin rooting through your bag once again, "With you, I was less worried because you're more like 'Zashi, i.e extremely likable, and you were kind of getting a boost from appearances on Hitoshi's channel. I still worry because the internet is a fickle mistress but I'm not staying up at night about it."

Pulling out a dark eyebrow pencil, you grin at your father, "Aww, that was kinda sweet. Not really but kind of."

"What I'm here for," Shota's eyes followed your hand as you uncapped the pencil and reached up, beginning to mark at his eyebrows, "I'm gonna read the next question while you kill my eyebrows."

"I'm not killing them!" you giggled, "But unlike Papa, you already have pretty thick, full eyebrows so I won't be here long."

"Good," he muttered before furrowing his brows in confusion, ignoring your frustrated groan, "who is daddysero and why is he asking if you pissed today?"

"What?!" you pull your dad's hand back to see what he was looking at, instantly calming down when you saw he was still on Twitter, "Oh, that's just Sero, he asks me that every time I tweet. I thought you went to my Instagram DMs," at Shota's questioning stare you grinned, "Mama's got simps in her DMs."

"Don't ever call yourself 'Mama' in my presence ever again," Shota shook his head, once again ignoring your annoyance, "papichulo46290 wants to know my favorite memory of you."

"If you mix me up with 'Toshi, I'll be so pissed," you return the eyebrow pencil to your bag as Shota speaks.

"I won't... probably," he shrugs while you root through your bag, "So, Hizashi had taken Hitoshi out for ice cream because of - has he mentioned his middle school trauma?" at your nod, he continues, "Hitoshi was having a bad day from middle school, shocking, so you and I were left home alone together. You were probably seven and you really wanted to paint my nails and I let you. You..." he shook his head, snickering, "you fucked them up. So bad. But you were so happy to just be spending time with me- "

"Keep talking, but I'm gonna do your eyeshadow," you lean back in, swishing your brush over a navy blue, almost black shade, "Just so you guys know, Dad wanted to look like shit, don't unsubscribe cuz this is gonna come out bad."

"It won't be too bad, you're talented," Shota did his best to remain still, "But overall, you were just so adorable and it didn't even matter that the smudged nails got me teased in the teacher's lounge the next day. It all came off after like a week because it was shitty polish but you get the idea."

"Aww, I didn't know you kept it on, that's so sweet," you fall back briefly to inspect your work, "It's not awful but I'm only posting this because you're my dad."

"Of course, I did," Shota continued scrolling through the questions, "A lot of people are asking if you mean Dad or Daddy, and a lot more people are asking for pictures of your feet, you should block them all."

"Yeah, I got sickos in my replies too, just gotta scroll past em'."

"Disgusting..." Shota grumbled as you moved to his other eye, "Is 'electrodick' Kaminari, perchance?"

"Unfortunately."

"Gross, he asks if you had an 'I'm not like other girls' phase," Shota hummed quietly in thought, "Maybe when you were eight for like a month, but that's probably because except for Nemuri you didn't have any women in your life. Thankfully you moved on from that pretty quickly."

"Oh yeah, that was a gross, weird time. You and Papa also weren’t shitty people so I didn’t have a lot of misogynist influence."

"I like to think we did a good job," Shota sighed, finally moving back into his slouching position when you pulled away completely, "Is 'explosionmurder' Bakugou?"

"You know it."

"Okay well, he's asking if you plan on fucking up your bronzing again?" he thinks for a moment, “Was that from when you looked kinda copper-ish in a video?

"Oh my God, that was one time, Bakugou!" you shout and shake your brush at the camera, "One time!"

"I don't even know what blending is so you're doing better than I am."

"God, how are we related?"

Without hesitation, Shota replied, "Surrogate. Which answers summerlongsock's question."

"Nice," you chuckle, setting the brush back in your bag, "You probably won't need too much bronze or countour since you're going for bad," you immediately turn to the camera, "And Bakugou isn't gonna say a fucking word about it!"

"Is eyeliner next? And if so, I would enjoy a nice wing," Shota muttered, looking through the remaining questions, "Hitoshi asks why I haven't done a video with him yet."

You nod along while uncapping the liner, "I'm curious about that too. I thought my first video with a parent would be with Papa. I was gonna say family but..." you shrug, "Hitoshi was my first video and then Eri came on."

"He never asked," Shota closed both of his eyes, allowing you to move his head around as you pleased, "You just texted me the video idea and we set it up while I was in town. If Hitoshi wants a video so bad he should come up with an idea."

"Jeez, don't bully the poor boy," you laughed quietly, carefully applying more eyeliner to your father's left lid, "We should all do a video together. I think it'd be fun."

"Come up with an idea," he replied flatly before opening his eyes, "davinky wants to know when you got into makeup. Probably after thirteen, sometime."

"Yeah, I got my first real eyeshadow at like fourteen and then you guys just enabled my love of makeup after that."

"Well, the thing with that was, Hizashi and I didn't want you growing up thinking you had to wear makeup for any reason," Shota opened his eyes once he felt you back away, blinking a few times, "So we waited till you were more mature because giving makeup to a six-year-old is weird."

Capping your eyeliner, you traded it out for mascara, "Yeah, even little play kits are a bit ehhh. Don't close your eyes, but look down."

Following instruction, Shota took the opportunity to read off another question, "I can't see the name but someone's asking what we did together for fun. While you were a kid."

Humming quietly in thought, you move from one eye to the other, "We used to go to diners a lot. Those late-night diner trips, remember?"

"Oh yeah, you were such a little demon about bedtime. I had to take you to this little place for scrambled eggs or some shit and you'd fall asleep on the way back home."

Putting away your mascara, you reach out for your hairbrush before beginning to pull out the hair tie in Shota's hair, "Mina wanted me to ask what videos you show people when they ask what your kids do for a living."

"For Hitoshi, the one where he and Kaminari made Bakugou breakfast with sex toys. For you, the one where you turn yourself into Mina's little character - with the pink skin," Shota winced slightly at the tug of your hairbrush, "And Eri's a teacher so that information comes first since it's the least strange."

As you fussed with his tangled nest of hair, you read another question over Shota's shoulder, "When did you know you loved me? Like after adopting me."

"Not too long after the adoption was finalized actually," Shota grumbled as the brush made its final courses through his hair, "You've always been a really great kid. I don't know when I 'realized' but it was definitely around the time you were born, maybe like the day after."

"That's pretty good considering I was a stranger," you giggled, brushing out the final knots in his dark hair, "A baby stranger."

"Hmm," Shota hummed in response, "You almost done?"

Refraining from rolling your eyes, you fluffed Shota's now smooth and detangled hair around his shoulders with a small smile, "I'm done. Your hair is so pretty when it's brushed out."

"I know," the man muttered, handing your phone back, "Wanna do one more question and then sign off?"

"Yeah," you scroll through some of the questions, "I want it to be the best question that's ever been asked."

"Ask your own, you're great at that."

You shook your head with furrowed brows at his comment, "Is that a compliment?"

"It was meant to be."

"Thanks, but no need, I've found one. Midoriya wants to know if raising two attention whores was hard. He didn't say ‘attention whores’ because he doesn't swear but that's the vibe."

"What's Midoriya's at?" Shota asked.

"SmallMight."

"Of course," the man grumbled, closing his eyes to think, "You two were honestly pretty easy to raise. Not a whole lot of fits compared to what I've heard other parents talk about. You both liked to talk a lot to each other, and, of course, to Hizashi and me. Not terribly difficult at all."

"Aww, I'm glad we didn't make you pull your hair out," you grin.

"Oh, you still did. Absolutely."

"Nice," you giggle before turning off your phone and facing the camera, "Okay guys, well, I hope you don't clown on me as much as usual because if you do, my dad will... I don't know… kick your ass."

"Exactly," Shota nodded, a horrific smile on his face, "I'll beam right into your living room."

"Hopefully you guys come back next week where I'll..." floundering for an answer, you turn to your dad as if he’d give you ideas, "Create wings to do it better than Icarus ever could."

Giving a singular stiff nod, Shota looked dead at the camera, "I'd watch it."

"You heard it from the main man himself, peeps," you waved to the camera, Shota copying the motion, “Bye!”

"If there's one comment about my eyebags, I'm never coming on your channel again," Shota lied as you leaned over to stop recording.

"They're gonna love you, I'm sure," you assure your father, "Wanna see how I edit?"

"God no, Hitoshi showed me how long it takes to edit his videos, it looks like hell."

[infinitecrime]

I feel like I should make a post detailing the Sebastian Stan drama because I see a whoooole lot of bad takes and misinformation and blatant lies going around. I’ve been on tumblr for nearly a decade at this point and this is genuinely one of the scariest and most out of control situations I have seen.

A quick summary for anyone who hasn’t been following: Last week, Seb was pictured with a women. Many assumed this was his girlfriend but this has not been confirmed. Fans began combing through her life and social media to find something incriminating. I feel like this is important, that the hatred came first, and the reason came after. They found a photo of the girl, from 2 years ago. I will include it for transparency (she is on the left): she is at an ‘Asian night’ party/club night, wearing a kimono. 

It’s insensitive to use culture as a costume, and to lump all the diverse and distinct Asian cultures together into one party theme, decorated with pound shop Chinese lanterns. It is cultural appropriation. A number of Asian people were understandably upset by this photo and her actions. 

But let me be very clear: These are not his actions. He was not at the party, he did not wear the kimono, he did not post or like the photo, he did not endorse, condone or defend the actions in any way. We have never seen them together before, so presumably this is 2 years before they met. He does not follow her or the friend that posted it 2 years ago on Instagram. There is no reasonable expectation that he ever would have seen this photo. He almost certainly did not know it existed.

He cannot apologise or seek redemption for someone else actions. He cannot set a precedent where he is responsible for everything everyone who comes within 20ft of him did, years before they even met. It is completely insane to expect him to do a full background check on everyone he makes out with, or to expect him and all his acquaintances to be ideologically pure, not be ignorant about anything and never make a mistake.

Some people seemed to realise that he cannot be held responsible for other people’s actions, so they invented something to pin blame on him: he defended her! I searched high and low for his statement defending her. He did not make one. Instead, he allegedly blocked a handful of people who spammed his comments with demands for apologies. At least one of these blocks has been outed as photoshop. If the others are real, we don’t know if it was him or his PR team. We don’t know if their innocent public comment alerting him to an issue was accompanied by vile death threats in his DM’s. Regardless, he is within his rights to protect his mental health by blocking people who harass him about something that is, frankly, none of his business. Blocking is not defending her.

I often hear: cancel culture is not real, it’s simply facing the consequences of your actions. So lets do an experiment where we outline the actions and consequences. If you were involved in the vile hashtags and threats made against him, ask yourself: Are these reasonable, proportional and deserved? Do I have the authority to distribute these consequences? Am I making the world a better place - or a worse one? Is my moral high ground getting a little shaky? 

Action: 

Kissed a girl who wore a kimono 2 years before they met. Allegedly (!!) blocked a few people who harassed him about it despite it being nothing to do with him.

Consequences:

Doxxed, pictures of his apartment and his address leaked online. He will almost certainly have to move from his HOME.

Intense death threats and suicide baiting, including #RIPSebastianStan trending, which his family may have seen and actually thought he had died, photoshopped articles and memorial pictures that say he died

Actual danger to his physical safety through the release of his home address

Emails sent to his newly signed agency and employers to get him FIRED

Severe damage to his reputation including news articles with his name and ‘racist post’ in the title, that do not make it clear it was not his post!!

Most likely a severe hit to his mental health, which he has said before he struggles with, particularly from all the KILL YOUR SELF CLOWN messages

If he was with the girl - well, I doubt he is now, so the possible destruction of his relationship, instead of her getting a chance to learn, educate herself, grow and be better.

I am genuinely concerned for his mental health - situations like this before have resulted in suicide (Caroline Flack springs to mind). His physical safety is also in danger. For the actions of someone else, years before they met. Please, stop this. Please see that you are making the world so, so much worse, and you could actually kill someone through this. Please exit the twitter echo chamber and think maturely and critically about whether your response is proportional, reasonable and necessary. Please see that he is a stranger to you, who is paid to do a job, and we have no more right to demand things from him or make him face consequences than we do our dentists or the cashier at the local shop. Please log off and go outside for a while.

[duuhrayliegh]

dm slide

pairing: sebastian stan x reader

warnings: alcohol consumption, language, nothing else really, it’s just really fluffy i think

word count: 1905

a/n: okay so my other stuff is coming, i stg, i’m just in the middle of finals and moving out of my dorm, and starting a new job, so i’m a bit stressy right now, but i’m getting there loves.

so if this one isn’t as good as it could be that’s why, but i’m hoping to add on to it later

p.s.: my requests and tag lists are open!!

xoxo ray

ray’s m.list

You were currently at your best friend’s birthday party, polishing off your third overfull glass of wine. Your best friend threw her hands above her head, shouting out “Shots on me!” She thrusted a shot glass in your hand, encouraging you to toss back the liquid. You set down your wine glass, picking up the smaller cup, not caring about the flashing cameras around you.

“I’m so glad you were able to get free from your oh so lavish lifestyle as a celebrity to come hang out with little ‘ol me!” She had to continue to shout for you to hear her over the loud music blasting through the club speakers. She grabbed your arm, pulling you towards the bathrooms. “Are you getting ready to go? The sound system is giving me a headache.” You smiled at her, grabbing your phone from your clutch.

“Absolutely, babes. Let me order the Uber and then we can go.” You held onto your phone tighter, walking up to the bar to settle your tab. “Hey, Gabe!” Gabe, one of the bartenders, turned to you.

“Hey, Y/N!” He went to grab a bottle of your favorite wine to uncork it, but stopped when you held your hand up.

“Just settling up and heading out.” You passed your black AmEx card over the counter to his waiting hand.

“You’re missin’ out, Y/N. The party is just getting started here.” You shook your head at the man.

“Nah, I’m celebrating my best friend’s birthday tonight, so this is her call.” He slid your card back to you, watching you push it into the slots of your clutch. “We’re getting outta here, but that doesn’t mean our party is ending.” You winked at him, meeting up with your companion. You linked arms with her, leading the way through the crowd. It was cold outside, which didn’t mean good things for you because of your almost too short dress. The Uber stopped beside the curb, rolling their window down for you to double check. You climbed in beside your friend, scooting closer to increase your warmth. The ride to your apartment wasn’t too long, thankfully because Uber’s creeped you out, no matter how safe you were.

Walking into your apartment was difficult to say the least. You both were stumbling the entire way to the elevator and then stumbling into your couch cushions. The two of you managed to make it to your bedroom, swapping out your tight garments for some more ill fitting attire. That was not before you took an absurd amount of photos together in your bathroom mirror. You sat across from each other on the black couch in your apartment, sifting through the pictures of the two of you. Your best friend was leaned over your shoulder, watching as you scrolled through.

“Oo! That one!” She pointed at the screen quickly, stopping your scrolling. It was of you holding the phone, leaning backward staring at the phone in your hand. Your best friend was facing you, her bare back displayed from the deep dip in the back of her dress. “We look so hot.” You both shared a look and then burst into a fit of laughter. You posted the picture to your Instagram, tagging your best friend in the corner, wishing her a happy birthday. She slid away from your, covering her lower half with a blanket.

“You want a water?” You asked as you rose from your spot on the couch. She smiled big at you.

“Can I convince you to mix up some margaritas?” Her bottom lip rolled inwards, waiting for  your response. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head before opening your liquor cabinet. You pulled down bottles of triple sec and tequila, reaching into your freezer for the bag of strawberries and limeade. You brought your Ninja Bullet out to make individual margaritas for both you and your drunk friend. Walking back over to her with containers in hand, you plopped opposite her on the couch.

“You’re literally the bestest ever.” She slurped on the drink through her swirly straw. The conversation faded between the two of you, allowing the both of you to go through your socials. “Did you see that Lizzo got a message back from Chris Evans the other day?” You laughed at her question, remembering your reaction to Lizzo’s TikTok.

“Mhm. Can you imagine getting a reply back from one of those hunks of men?” She shook her head while guzzling her margarita.

“I can’t, but I bet you can.” You scrunch your brows at her and she groaned. “You’re a celebrity too, dumbass. Girl, the amount of times that I’ve gotta remind you of that is insane.” You laughed at her, rolling your eyes.

“Babes, just because I’m quote, unquote famous, doesn’t mean that I’m on their level.” She pointed a finger at you.

“Hey, just shoot your shot, Y/N.”

“I literally don’t even know which one I would DM.” Your best friend scoffed loudly.

“Bullshit!” You choked at how loud she yelled. “You don’t know who you would DM? I know who you would DM in a fucking heartbeat.” You looked over at her with raised brows and in unison you said. “Sebastian Stan.” “Sebastian Stan.”

“Mm, he is a six foot tall Romanian God.” You shook your head while fake moaning, your friend laughing in the background. She reached for your phone before you could protest, typing away on your keyboard, smiling mischievously. She thrust the phone back into your hands, the empty DM screen of imsebastianstan on Instagram staring back at you.

“All you gotta do is send something.” She smiled at you while you glanced down at your phone screen nervously. You began typing something quickly then locked the screen, placing it facing downward on your lap, a giggly smile resting on your face. She scooted closer to you, folding her legs up to her chin. “Wait! What did you say?” You unlocked your phone, showing her the screen. She laughed at your message, drinking the rest of her margarita.

y/n.y/l/n: hi, i’m y/n and you’re the love of my life ;) <3

“That’s so fucking good, oh my God.” She glanced at the clock on your phone. “Oh girl, we’ve gotta go to sleep.” You checked it as well, dropping your head into your hands.

“Mhm, you’re right.” You stood from your spot, holding your hand out to your friend to help her up. “Let’s go to sleep.” You both crashed on your king sized mattress underneath your white fluffy duvet. You were about to drift off to sleep, when your best friend’s voice floated into your ears.

“Do you think he’s gonna reply to you?” Her voice was slurring more and more from the amount she drank and the sleep weighing on her mind. You smiled at her, it was a long shot that he would even see it, much less reply.

“We’ll have to see, babes.” She didn’t reply to you as you both fell off into a dreamless abyss.

********************

The sun streaming into your room woke you up in the morning, light hitting your eyelid just right. You blinked harshly, bringing your hand up to block the glare. A groan escaped your lips, stretching out from your best friends grip. “Fuck me.” You held your head in your hand, groaning about the headache blossoming at the nape of your neck. You left the bed, pulling a sweater over your tank top to catch some warmth. You tucked your phone into the waistband of your shorts. You padded into the kitchen, grabbing your Advil bottle, dumping two pills into your hand. You got a glass of water, settling down on the couch after gulping down the headache medicine.

You opened your phone while basically inhaling your water. Your memories of last night were fuzzy, you drank quite a bit. Did you drink too much? Maybe… but did you regret it at all? Not a second of it. You had the best time hanging out with your best friend. You check your Instagram post, replying to several different comments. A red bubble was pinned over your DM button in the corner. You tilted your head in curiosity, wondering who messaged you now. You swiped over, eyes widening at the new message.

imsebastianstan: Hi, Y/N. I’m Sebastian, thank you for professing your love to me.

The feeling of panic running through your veins didn’t last long, A gigantic smile spread accompanied by a giggle. What the fuck do you do now? Your fingers hesitated over the keyboard, thinking through what you want to say back.

y/n.y/l/n: hello sebastian, what do ya say we  figure out if it’s a match :)

You sent the message before you could chicken out, locking the phone shortly after, shoving it in your waistband. You got up, refilling your glass of water, leaning against your granite countertop, tapping your fingers impatiently. You squealed as you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket.

imsebastianstan: What do you have in mind?

y/n.y/l/n: 917-555-0545 <3

Oh my god, you can’t believe you just did that. Holy shit, what are you thinking? Maybe this will all work out in your favor. You really had nothing to lose but your dignity, right? A disturbance in the peace to the right of your caught your attention.

“Why the hell are you up so early? We drank last night, that’s an excuse to sleep in, you fuck baffoon.” Her hair was tousled on top of her head, shirt hanging off one shoulder. You turned your phone around, thrusting it towards her face.

“There’s been recent developments on the Stan front.” Her brows raised, face becoming shocked.

“Oh. My. God. Are you fucking serious?” She snatched the phone away from your hand quickly to scroll through the messages. “You gave him your number?” She yelled at you as she stretched across the couch, laying her head in your lap. Your phone buzzed in her hands and her eyes widened to unbelievable proportions. “Bitch, you just got a text from an unsaved number.”

“Shut the fuck up.” You looked at the phone in her hands. “I didn’t think he was actually going to text me, I sent it as a joke! What’s it say?”

“How are we going to figure this out?” You both shared a look, shrieking enthusiastically. “Y/N! Sebastian Stan texted you!” She jumped up and down on your couch, pulling you up with her.

“What do I say back?” You held the phone against your chest, staring expectantly at your best friend. She shook her head at you.

“Nuh-uh girl. This is all you.” She held her hands up in surrender. You looked down at your keyboard, the blinking cursor waiting for instructions.

“Okay, okay, how ‘bout, ‘discuss over coffee?’” You looked at your best friend for approval, still standing on your couch. You sent the message after she nodded. A message bubble popped up, three blinking dots inside.

There’s a coffee shop on 8th street,  just outside of Washington State Park.

wanna meet up around three?

I’ll be there, Y/N.

You turned to your best friend, holding the phone to your chest. “Babes.” She raised her brows, waiting. “I have a fucking date with Sebastian Stan!” You both squealed, excited for what would happen on your date.