#please someone how do i keep bugs out of oatmeal that shit was already in an airlock container what more do I do

[dumbass-smolgayitalian]

at this point my family needs to just stop buying oatmeal or except that it comes with extra protein

i went to make oatmeal cookies only to realize that the oatmeal had bugs in it after I added the oats

finding like colonies of the almost microscopic bugs in specifically our oatmeal has become so comen that there like a 60/40 chance that any time I go to eat some their there and I normally don't find them until I've already made the thing and at a certent point you just go fuck it like your already eating when you spot the fucker at that point whats more gonna do

but my parents make stuff with oats all the time and almost never find them like are they just old and going blind or am I cursed

[irwintry]

11 Reasons Not to Fall in Love

Warnings: swearing, mention of alcohol

Summary: Ashton is in love, and Y/N might be, too. There are a million reasons not to fall in love–– here are eleven.

Word Count: 6.7k

ONE: YOU MIGHT NOT EVEN KNOW IT

Ashton sprinted down the terminal.

His suitcase rattled behind him, the wheels sputtering as they hit the cracks in dirty tiles. And his shoulders ached from the weight of his bag carving into already-sore muscles. A pair of headphones had fallen from his pocket down near gate A3, but he hadn’t bothered to retrieve them. Not when his connecting flight had less than ten minutes until departure. Ashton couldn’t waste another minute apologizing to strangers for slamming into them during a moment of distraction.

Sweat accumulated under his arms and along his hairline. Long corridors awaited him, meanwhile, his lungs strained within his ribcage as he rounded corner after corner. He hadn’t remembered the airport being this large. Perhaps he had slipped into a Twilight Zone nightmare where every doorway led him to where he had once been. Time ticked away, and Ashton was too frantic to check the clock on his phone.

“Final boarding call for American Eagle flight 1683 for Los Angeles. Please make your way to gate D26. That is D for Delta. Again, this is a final boarding call for American Eagle flight 1683 for Los Angeles, located at gate D26. Thank you.”

“Shit,” Ashton spat, his knuckles curling in a firm grip around his duffle. The same duffle his mum gifted him nearly six years ago, yet it still worked like a charm. The duct tape held up well.

His feet skidded against the rug leading into gate D26. He opted out of the dramatics, slowing down his pace and walking calmly around the rows of seating before addressing the gate agents with a smile. They saw plenty of passengers like him–– late, damp, and a bit smelly as well. But that didn’t erase the scowls from their features. He sped down the jet bridge, dropped off his carry-on at the end, and boarded the plane with two minutes to spare.

“Hey, hi, sorry,” he mumbled to the flight attendants, but his breathy words hardly translated through his large gasps for air. It didn’t take him long to find his seat in first class. The large cushions enveloped him like an old friend. He sat back after placing his bag underneath the seat before him, and his eyes fell shut as a sigh left his lips.

Ashton’s phone vibrated in his pocket.

snail butt:

text me when u land!!!!!!

His cheeks burned. A smile stretched slowly on his cheeks, the kind of smile that wrote novels and lit up silver screens. It was a smile that could not be hidden no matter how hard he tried. Ashton’s stomach had been stuck with thousands of pins. And all it had taken was a single text from you.

“Only a fool who’s in love smiles like that.”

Ashton turned to face the person behind the voice, his eyes wide and watery as he shut off his phone. “Excuse me?”

The older man beside him chuckled. “I know a smile like that anywhere.”

“In love?” Ashton repeated, soon falling into laughter himself. “No, no, I’m not––”

The man winked and glanced away, but Ashton chose not to harp on a nonsensical conversation. Instead, he stared at the seat before him, mouth slightly ajar as he registered the older man’s words. Ashton had never been in love, at least he believed it to be so. He had no knowledge of the feeling. So, he rejected what he heard.

He spent the next few hours with his gaze locked on the clouds, wondering if what he felt for you was, perhaps, something a little like love.

TWO: IT’S ONE-SIDE

The lights had flushed out his skin. Every inch of it was warm and wet to the touch, a sensation he knew well but hadn’t quite gotten used to. Even after thousands of shows–– thousands of performances that kicked his adrenaline to new heights only to have it plummet by the time he made it to the showers. Ashton stood against the tiled walls and let the water pelt against his skin. The pressure was never how he liked it. And the water was never hot enough.

He liked to call you after shows. He liked to hear about your day. You told him about the customers that pissed you off and the ones that sweetly tipped you a little too much. You told him that Oatmeal had taken a poo in your bathtub again, and he’d laugh at the thought. He’d think about the faces you’d make, because while you’d be upset one moment, your anger never lasted long. You could never stay mad at your cat.

Ashton had yet to call you tonight. He sat on the bathroom floor instead, fingernails picking at scabs on his palms while the sounds of J. Tillman’s Cancer and Delirium echoed around the room. He didn’t have the option to sit much longer; they had to pack up and drive off to a new town overnight. He always thought about the what-ifs. What if he walked out right then and there? What if he left without saying goodbye? What if he hopped aboard a plane and moved to the other side of the world? What if he cut off all contact with everyone he knew? And, what if that included you?

The thing that scared him the most was the possibility of it all. He could do whatever he wanted. It was his life, his body, his mind–– he had the ability to walk away whenever he so pleased.

He had the ability to forget about you.

Ashton stared at your contact on his phone. A picture from your New Year’s Eve party faced him, your goofy, smiling face staring up at him, happiness permanently immortalized within a small circle. And he wasn’t sure what your contact name meant anymore–– it had been an inside joke from years before, but time stole the memory.

He could delete your number if he wanted. He could rid himself of the pain of loving you by losing you. He could end everything now.

Ashton called you instead.

“You’re eating away at my cellular data,” you said right away, and somehow, the sound of your voice always made him feel better. All of his previous thoughts melted away. “How was the show? How are your bloody hands?”

“Beaten t’hell,” he spoke, but his words felt lifeless. Ashton could no longer identify his exhaustion. He felt like a stale being, like the grimy tiles beneath his bum as he counted scratches on the bathroom mirror. “Tell me about your day.”

“Didn’t do much,” you replied. “Oh, but––“

You talked for a half-hour. About the dentist, about your cat, about the food you ate... and he listened with pleasure. He listened because it was the only thing keeping him from walking away. It kept him from wiping the slate clean.

And he wanted to. He didn’t want to love like this. It was one-sided, trivial in every aspect, and you had no idea how much it pained him to even think about you. His urge to leave it all behind grew larger every day.

You didn’t love him. You didn’t see him the way he saw you.

“Hey, bug,” he mumbled. You had been talking about a Tinder date, one that went oh so right, and Ashton gripped his thigh until he drew blood. His eyes screwed shut at the idea of you piled under bedsheets, arms tied around the neck of someone else. “’m gonna have t’let you go.”

“Aw,” you said.

He pictured your pout.

“Well, okay,” you continued. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

Ashton forced a smile. He wished you could see the ache behind it. “Of course, doll. Love you.”

“Love you, too!”

J. Tillman’s voice filled the tile room once again. And Ashton sat wishing your words held meaning. He wished he could erase the casual and fill in sentimentality. Because he now knew what love was, and he knew you would never feel the same.

THREE: THEY LOVE SOMEONE ELSE

His kitchen faucet had been dripping for eleven days. The noise faded into the background, its constant drip, drip, drip like an unspoken rhythm to Ashton’s ears. He found himself tapping along and making up songs to the beat of these drips. They weren’t irksome–– not for the first eleven days.

He was lonely on the twelfth day. Beaten hands pushed back dirty and newly dyed dark strands of hair. Ashton hated looking at his appearance in his bathroom mirror. The dark circles were unfriendly, and he hadn’t seen his skin that sickly color before. He was malnourished at his own expense. And he was exhausted.

Tired of spending all of his nights staying up until four because being home felt like a prison. Tired of looking at pictures of you and your boyfriend while Ashton was stuck wallowing with a sore heart. A sore heart that failed to tell you how he felt sooner. Because now he saw your face when you were with him–– with your boyfriend, and you looked so happy. Ashton couldn’t help but feel sorry for himself.

It seemed as though everything was falling apart at once. The faucet, his relationship with you––or lack thereof, and suddenly his dishwasher was overflowing, and every meal he made he was burnt to a crisp. The twelfth day of his faucet leaking was the last straw.

But Ashton didn’t want to call a plumber. He took the matter into his own hands.

An hour later, he had flooded part of the kitchen and dented a pip with his wrench. The activity hadn’t gotten rid of stress or anger, and it certainly hadn’t distracted him from thoughts about you.

He sat back against his fridge, a few stray tears spilling down his cheeks while he avoided the ache in his spine. The leaking had only gotten worse, but Ashton decided he would worry about it on the fourteenth day. He wanted to curl up on his couch and stay there forever. He wanted to rot in his home (was it even his home?) and have everyone forget about him. To have you forget about him. He wanted to forget about you.

snail butt:

hey.

pls answer me

are u ok

Ashton kept the messages open on his phone, but he didn’t respond to them. He wasn’t touched by your concern right now. He felt numb, and he wanted to sink into the tiles and melt in with the puddled water. It wasn’t normal anymore–– to feel this way. He lost himself in the shape of his hands; they no longer looked like his hands. Did he even exist?

snail butt:

ash

can i call

His eyes narrowed. For the first time in his life, he didn’t want to talk to you. You were the last person on the earth he wanted to talk to. All because he did want to tell you everything, but he knew he couldn’t. You had always been a constant in his life, and the reason you no longer were had fallen upon his shoulders. Because he had fallen in love when he never meant to in the first place.

Suddenly, you were calling him, and his fingers stayed still. His thumb didn’t move to answer the call.

This wasn’t who Ashton was. He always answered your call no matter where he was, no matter what time of day. His eyes brimmed with tears, yet they refused to spill. No one said love could be this painful. No one said it would be like this.

You called again, a contact picture of you in minion goggles popping up only to disappear a half minute later. Ashton knew he was worrying you. He felt the fear creeping up into your chest while you tapped “voice call” over and over, meanwhile mumbling a few frustrated words involving insults you never meant. You had sensed his change in behavior long ago. He didn’t blame you for forcing communication like this.

That was why he wanted to pack his things and leave sometimes. It was easier than convincing everyone that he was okay.

Ashton:

Hey sorry I missed your call

Can’t talk right now

Love you

FOUR: EVERYONE KNOWS BUT THEM

A familiar feeling filled Ashton’s stomach. It knotted and twisted, but it never loosened. His grip on his phone tightened with every word he read. Knuckles ached while his fingers dug into the metal siding, and tension soon collected in the hinge of his jaw.

This had been his night so far. Stuck in between tables and chairs in the middle of a bar while you texted him about your boyfriend. But Ashton wasn’t mad because of that. His anger boiled because your boyfriend had mistreated you, and Ashton was hearing every little bit about the story.

He believed that he was seconds away from breaking his phone altogether.

“Ashton.”

His head shot up, small curls falling over his eyes as his jaw clenched. A bunch of worried eyes faced him.

“You okay, mate?” asked Michael. His voice was hushed and full of a certain comfort that his friend needed to hear.

Ashton swallowed, and he could feel all of the individual muscles in his cheeks strain. The gray dots on his phone appeared again–– you had more to say. “’m fine,” he spoke. His eyes said otherwise. They were watery and wide, filled with an easily read emotion, yet he hoped his friends would avoid the conversation.

Luke hummed. “Sure.”

“Is she okay?” Michael set his drink down on the table before them.

The words sunk in Ashton’s chest. He appreciated their concern. He appreciated that they cared about you. But he didn’t want to talk about it–– he never did.

He shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Convincing.”

“Well, what do you want me to say?” asked Ashton, voice raising in frustration while the sea of eyes blinked back in response. A cold silence met him, but the music in the bar carried on. He sighed. “Sorry. Fuck. Sorry.”

He gripped his forehead and wiped the sweat from his drink onto the table. His fingers trembled as he did so.

“Does she know how you feel?” Michael mumbled.

Ashton raised a brow. “Know how I–– what?” He began to laugh. He felt strange–– like anger was fighting with anxiety, and he knew he could no longer repress his feelings by this point.

“Ash.”

He turned to face Luke.

“It’s obvious,” said the blond. “We’re not stupid. We know you love her. We’ve known for the past like, six months.”

The frustration softened, and soon, Ashton deflated. His shoulders slumped as his frown deepened. “It’s obvious?” he whispered.

“Not that obvious,” Calum intervened. “You jus’–– you get really sad when you get feelings for someone.”

“I’m not––” Ashton straightened his spine. “I’m not sad. We’re fine. She’s fine. We’re both really fine.”

“I’ve never seen you guys this distant before,” Michael said.

“Friends grow apart.”

“Not like this.”

Ashton dug his fingernail into the wooden tabletop.

“Dude,” continued Michael. “You gotta tell her soon. It’s just gonna keep hurting if you don’t. And it’ll keep gettin’ worse and worse.”

“Or maybe it’ll hurt worse if I do tell her,” muttered Ashton.

“So, you do love her?” Luke asked.

Ashton waited a moment to answer. “Yeah.”

Silence washed over the group, and a beat later, Michael asked, “does she love you?”

Ashton stared at a neon sign in the distance. He could hear its buzzing from his seat. It gnawed at his eardrums and wedged itself under his skin. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “She doesn’t.”

FIVE: THEY ARE OBLIVIOUS TO YOUR PAIN

Ashton had been late to his own birthday party. He strolled in after forty minutes, heart heavy while he pushed through sweaty bodies that he hardly recognized. The stairs were his destination, and he could only fake so many smiles. He could only force empty hellos for so long before someone was bound to pull him aside. Their skin burned his.

Because it had been you, and every touch was a pain unlike any other.

“Hey, hey, birthday boy,” you said, grinning from ear to ear. “Miss me?”

Ashton stared at you in awe. Not because you looked stunning, which you did. You always did. But because he hadn’t seen you in four months. He had hardly spoken to you— he felt like he hardly knew you.

“Holy shit,” he muttered as he wracked his brain in search of something to say. Or rather, the right thing to say. Heat trickled up his neck and into his cheeks.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” you asked. The drink in your hand had hardly been touched. Meanwhile, your fingers toyed with the small plastic straw.

Ashton felt his smile grow. His stomach was on fire. “Yes— yeah. Give me a fucking hug.”

Your arms wrapped themselves around his torso, your head burying into his shoulder while he tried to memorize the feeling of you against him. He missed being held by you. It came with a sense of belonging–– like he was always meant to be here.

“Did Michael fly you in?” asked Ashton, and meanwhile, he kept his hands on your upper arms. His gaze on you was intense–– that he knew, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Had you always looked that beautiful?

You shook your head. “Wanted to surprise you myself.” A smile grew on your lips.

Ashton smiled as well, but it ached to falter. He just wanted to be happy around you.

The drinks poured on, night crawling with sweat and glitter and everything Ashton had wanted to avoid. As the hours passed, you stuck to him like glue. And the more alcohol in your system, the more you kept your hands on him. Unsteady fingers scraped down his arms whenever a good song came on through the speaker. You were in constant movement, and all Ashton saw was a gaussian blur of colors and smiles.

He locked himself in the upstairs bathroom.

He sat there for at least an hour, knuckles drumming against polished tile while the bass reverberated through the floor. It had been months since his last interaction with you–– he never knew when he would see you next. And then you were dancing with his friends, mind elsewhere while you tried to forget about the dried tears over your ex-boyfriend. You were swaying and laughing, looking like an angel kissed you just that morning, and he hadn’t been ready for any of it.

In all honesty, Ashton would have preferred not seeing you at all. Your presence taunted him. It reminded him of all of the mistakes he made, and it reminded him that you would never love him the way he loved you.

Before leaving the bathroom, he washed his face. He washed away the past couple of hours in order to prepare for the next few. In order to see you again, he had to forget all of his feelings for the night.

But he couldn’t. He barely took a step downstairs before retreating to his bedroom. It was his own birthday–– he could be miserable if he wanted to be. Did he even want to be?

Ashton changed into a pair of sweatpants and a plain t-shirt. He could still hear the music through the floorboards, but it no longer bothered him. His phone remained silent with no phone calls or texts asking where he was. And then the door opened, and you walked in.

“Uh oh,” you said. “Birthday boy went missing.”

“You found him.”

You smiled softly. “You okay?”

Ashton shrugged. “Tired, s’all.”

You kept your arms crossed as you looked at him. He felt like you were analyzing everything about him. Perhaps you could read minds. Perhaps you already knew how he felt about you.

“Ya wanna sit?” he asked you, motioning to the empty spot next to him on his bed.

Your smile grew. “Duh.” You rushed over, flopped down against the comforter, and nestled into him. He hadn’t expected that last part. “Missed you,” you mumbled against his shirt, and your arm twisted around his. You were warm–– it was a good warmth.

“Missed you, too, bug,” he whispered. He leaned back against the pillows and took your body with him.

You hummed. A comfortable silence settled in, albeit the soft music from down below, and all Ashton could feel was you. He felt your skin, your heartbeat, your smile... He felt the happiness he had been looking for since the night began. This was why he needed you.

You turned to look at him. “Why haven’t we kissed yet?”

Ashton raised an eyebrow at you.

“We’ve been friends for like ten years,” you said. “I’ve even kissed Luke. Why haven’t I kissed you?”

“You kissed Luke?”

You pressed your palm against Ashton’s chest. “Should we kiss?”

“I don’t think––“

“We haven’t even tried it.”

Ashton shrugged. His heart rate had doubled, and the temperature in the room spiked. “Yeah, well...”

“Do you wanna?” you asked.

His limbs felt numb as he sat up. “Maybe now’s not the best time, bug.”

“Oh.”

Ashton wiped his hands against his thighs, and when he looked over at you, a pout had found its way onto your face. The soft light from his bedside lamp reflected in your watery eyes and in the moisture on your lips. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears. Shit.

“Why do you wanna kiss me so bad?” he mumbled.

You glanced down. “I’ve always wanted t’kiss you,” you said. You looked back up at him, and he saw something in your eyes that he had never seen before.

It gave him hope.

He nodded, swallowing thickly while he fought back conflicting thoughts. “Okay,” he said.

“Okay?”

Ashton nodded once again. “Yeah. We can–– we can try it.” He squeezed his eyes shut, meanwhile wishing he had let the whole thing slide. He wished he could turn back time and never let himself feel like this.

But then you smiled, and he thought that, maybe, it wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all.

You giggled as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. He didn’t get the chance to think about anything else before you pressed your lips to his. It was quick, almost as if it had never happened. You moved away slowly, and he nearly pulled you back.

“Well,” you whispered, chuckling once more. The heat of your breath met his skin. With your arms still around his shoulders, you looked at him like he was the most beautiful thing you had laid eyes upon.

He wanted to believe it.

“Well,” he said in return. A small smile grew on his lips. He hardly remembered the kiss, but he knew he needed more. So, he placed his arms around your waist.

You leaned in again, this time capturing his lips gently between yours, but he held you close.

And then he pulled away. He pulled away because it meant too much to him. He pulled away because it didn’t mean anything to you.

SIX: NO ONE WILL EVER BE THEM

Ashton’s hands were numb.

The sun had only begun to rise. Its golden hue cast long rays through his blinds, the light taking shape and giving the dust a chance to shine. The colors washed against her back, but he wasn’t looking at that. He didn’t want to look at her.

He arose slowly, careful not to wake her before making his way to the bathroom. He kept his shower brief, and soon, the memories of the night prior infiltrated his brain. They had been together for a few weeks now. A few weeks of late-night hook-ups and early morning goodbyes. And last night, he called her by your name. She didn’t even notice.

Ashton wasn’t sure how he felt anymore. It was all numb. He could hardly feel the loofa as it scrubbed against his skin.

The morning was quiet around him. He thought about her while he spread jam on his toast. She was beautiful. She had kind eyes. But Ashton had to quit lying to himself. He never wanted to get used to the scent of her perfume on his sheets. He didn’t want to lose himself in the color of her eyes. He didn’t want to memorize her.

He grabbed his keys and drove off, skimming the coast with his tires as he dreamed of easier days. And then he called you.

“G’mornin’, Mister West Coast,” you said, and the stress of his mind eased with the tone of your voice. “You’re up early.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled. The sky was lilac above the ocean. He wished you were here to see it. “Mind’s racin’, and such. Miss you.”

“Aw, miss you, too,” you replied. He could hear your smile. “How’s Sophia?”

Ashton nearly slammed on the brakes. He readjusted his grip on the steering wheel to keep his knuckles from turning white. He wanted to say, “she’s not you”, but instead, he said, “she’s okay. A little sick.”

“Wasn’t she just sick?” you asked.

He bit his lip. “Dunno.” And he truly didn’t. He didn’t know much anymore. He felt like he was a floating entity. He felt like he was living someone else’s life. “I really do miss you, stinky.”

“Stinky?” You scoffed. “I’m not stinky. You’re stinky.”

“You can’t smell me through the phone, idiot,” he said, the corners of his lips quirking upwards.

“Maybe I should just come visit and find out for myself.”

Ashton’s smile grew. “Maybe you should.”

“Fine.”

“Fine,” he said.

You huffed. “Fine.”

Ashton was grinning now, cheeks burning while he stared at the road ahead. He still loved you. He didn’t know if he would ever stop.

SEVEN: IT WOULD NEVER WORK

“Don’t fucking skip my favorite song, you asshole!”

Ashton’s stomach burned from laughter. He held his phone high, yet the roof of the car kept it within arm’s reach. Meanwhile, you were fighting for dominance as he kept one hand on the steering wheel. You huffed once you gave up, and you fell back into your seat.

“C’mon,” he said, poking your thigh to earn a response. You didn’t budge. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Look, I’m changing it. Here. You control the music now.”

That pleased you. You grinned, taking the phone from his hands while he let out a laugh. This was how the week had played out. Back and forth playful bickering until you pulled out your infamous pout, and he had to keep himself from falling harder and harder in love with you.

It was a dynamic he had missed over the past year. His friends noticed as well. His feelings hadn’t changed, yet he was happy. He could finally allow himself to be happy.

You set his phone down in a cupholder and took his hand in yours. Ashton couldn’t deny the shift in energy between the two of you, yet he refused to let it overwhelm him. He refused to let his hopes get the best of his behavior. Instead, he just smiled at you and returned his gaze to the road ahead.

“Have your hands always been this big?” you asked him, holding his hand up in front of your face to examine it.

He laughed. “Are you–– are you flirting with me?”

You set your hands back onto your lap. “Maybe,” you mumbled as you traced his knuckles.

Ashton continued to smile, and a fluttering stirred in his stomach.

“Is that okay?”

His laughter quickly faded, and he cleared his throat. “Y-yeah,” he said, gripping your hand a little tighter. He traced his thumb along your thigh. A comfortable silence settled in, one full of smiles and unspoken words that kept his mind racing.

The next morning, he helped you pack your things. The security line at the airport was short, and you were already running slightly behind schedule. Your plane would begin boarding within the next half hour. So, he kept his goodbye brief.

And then you kissed his cheek, and he wanted to pull you back in and hold you forever.

“I love you, Ashton,” you said with a smile. A warm smile that held meaning. You spoke words that he had heard before, but they felt different as they settled in his chest. You turned away before he could say anything else, and he spent the drive home with tears in his eyes.

Because he loved you, and you possibly loved him, too. But he could never have you the way he wanted. There were too many miles in between.

EIGHT: YOU’RE NOT READY FOR COMMITMENT–– RIGHT?

His feet ached. His knees did, too. Sweat coated his forehead, and he carried on up the steep trail.

Ashton had been thinking about you for weeks. He was caught up in your smile and the soft words you spoke. He climbed mountains to get you out of his head. His muscles burned while his brain ached with the idea of you.

You left him with a thousand questions. Did you feel the same way? Did he still feel the same way? Is this what he wants? Does he want commitment?

Ashton was caught up in scenarios left and right. He was stuck on a house in the hills, or maybe a small town on the eastern seaboard with a mile to the ocean. He felt the waves on his shins, and he felt your hand in his with a silver ring imprinting on his skin. He saw children, and he heard their giggles. He saw his life with you.

But, even after all of these thoughts, he wasn’t sure if it was what he wanted. He still didn’t know. The mountain had yet to clear his head.

He set his keys in the bowl beside his front door. The cold shower felt like an old friend, and a familiar song echoed in the tiled room. Your favorite song. Ashton smiled.

He still loved you, even if you didn’t love him. He still wanted you. He wanted you for the rest of his life.

NINE: IT MIGHT WORK

snail butt:

hey what’s the address for mikey’s party

oh also!! surprise!

i'm coming to mikey’s party

Ashton’s leg bounced as he awaited your arrival. He felt trapped in some small room at the back of a club while his friends chatted around him. Michael wore golden party decorations around his neck, and he couldn’t stop smiling. Meanwhile, Ashton couldn’t hold back his fucking nerves. He hadn’t told a soul that you were coming.

When you stepped in, the room was yours. Your name was sung in a booming chorus, bodies making their way toward yours for one big group hug, and you were smiling, too. Ashton stayed behind. He felt like he couldn’t move.

Your eyes met his only seconds later, your smile growing while you shot him a wink. Michael talked about something that reminded him of you, and you laughed along. Ashton’s heart swelled at the sight of you. He wished he could have it every single day.

The night carried on slowly, and the conversations between the two of you were cut short. But the shared glances flooded the atmosphere. There was something heavy behind them, like a beckoning almost, but he couldn’t force himself to move in your direction. He wanted to look at you from afar.

“Stranger danger,” you said after approaching him later on in the night. You folded your arms and smirked, and Ashton was suddenly aware of how tight your dress was on your figure.

“Me?” he asked, mirroring your grin. “What d’ya mean? I’m the least terrifying person you’ll ever meet.”

“Say that to the fifteen-year-old kid who dressed up as Freddie Krueger to scare the shit out of his innocent neighbor,” you replied. You took a few steps toward him.

“To be fair,” he began and placed his hands against the small of your back, “you’re just an easy scary.” His smile grew. “Hi, bug. Missed you.”

You fell into him, arms wrapping around his shoulders while your breaths quickly fell into a rhythm. “I missed you,” you mumbled against his jacket. You pulled away suddenly. “I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?”

You nodded. “Come along,” you said.

The two of you said a quick goodbye to Michael, wished him a happy birthday, and made your way out into the chilly night. You had yet to let go of Ashton’s hand, even as he drove down streets that he hardly recognized. The address you gave him was one he had never seen before.

Ten minutes later, he was pulling up to an apartment complex fifteen or so miles away from his place.

“You gonna murder me?” he asked you.

You shook your head and smiled. “Nope,” you said.

A billion questions ran through his head as you led him up a staircase. But he stayed quiet. Even when you pulled out a set of keys and unlocked a numbered door, he still kept his mouth shut.

A lamp in the corner of the room lit up the small space. Boxes were stacked upon other boxes, and it hardly looked lived in. Yet, that didn’t matter. Ashton had realized what was happening. He felt sick to his stomach.

“I was offered a job,” you said.

He stared at the mess of boxes and mismatched furniture. Even through the clutter, it was thoroughly you through-and-through.

“And I was tired of having to constantly come visit you,” you continued with a laugh. “I didn’t wanna tell you until it was set in stone. But, yeah, welcome to my new home.”

Ashton turned to face you. You appeared nervous as you awaited his response. You were waiting for him to tell you it was a stupid idea, that you should have thought about this before packing up your life and moving to Los Angeles. But he wasn’t going to do that.

Instead, he cupped your cheeks and kissed you.

And you kissed him back.

TEN: THE FEAR OF FALLING OUT OF LOVE

He could hear the screams from backstage. A venue full of thousands of fans, all waiting to hear him and his band. He wished he hadn’t become numb to the feeling. It was his job–– it was normal. And the music he created no longer held the same meaning.

But he heard the songs differently now. He played with more passion, adrenaline rushing through his veins as his drumkit became a solace. Venues were his sanctuaries. Every night was filled with a new sensation he desired–– no, he craved.

His friends took notice. They fed off of his energy, and he wasn’t sure they had ever played this well before. It was something he wished he could share with you.

Ashton didn’t like remembering the thin line the two of you had drawn out. It was unexplainable, something unnamed that he was desperate to make sense of. Conversations were full of old jokes and stupid pictures he always saved into his camera roll. However, he never bothered to ask you how you felt. He never pressed about the one thing that stuck itself to his mind for well over a year.

He wanted to tell someone about how scared he was. Past relationships failed on his part–– he would flee instead of looking for reasons to stay. He chose to leave because he never saw things escalating further. Ashton had gotten used to the escape.

He felt different. He knew what he wanted, and he knew what he needed. Yet, the lack of reluctance created an unwanted fear. Ashton was afraid that, if you ever opened up to loving him back, then maybe he would stop loving you in return.

This fear showed itself in his performance. It fueled an anger that terrified him. But the shows were fucking phenomenal, he told himself. His hands bled after every night. And he still called you every night.

He was afraid of losing feelings. He was afraid of losing you. The idea of loving you was more beautiful than he could imagine–– the idea of you filled his heart with so much joy. That was where Ashton’s love for you differed from past relationships. He was used to falling in love with ideas, but this time, he fell in love with the honest you. He loved every little thing about you.

“Hi, bug.”

“Hey, how was the show?”

Ashton pushed sweaty strands of hair out of his face. His heart was pounding through his skin, fingers sore and shaky from an incredible set. His lips were numb. “Hi, um, it was–– yeah, it was good.”

“You sound out of breath.”

He inhaled as best as he could. “Sorry, yeah. I am.” Anxiety crawled up his forearms and into his chest.

“You okay?” you asked him.

He swallowed. He wasn’t okay, but it didn’t matter. “Yeah. I’m good. How was your day?”

“Oh, it was fine,” you said. “Didn’t do much. Watered your plants, ate your food, had a good nap on your couch, and then I––”

“I’m in love with you.”

You were silent.

Ashton’s throat burned. Everything was numb. His entire body had fallen numb. He wanted to end the call and never come home.

“You are?” you whispered a moment later.

His heart ached. “Yeah,” he said.

“Please come home soon.”

Ashton tried to laugh through the nerves building. “Can’t do that, bug. I got like forty shows left.”

“Poopy.”

This time, he could laugh. Maybe he had been nervous for nothing. Nevertheless, he now believed that he had nothing to fear.

ELEVEN: THEY MIGHT LOVE YOU BACK

The door to his home creaked as he stepped inside. A thick black night greeted him, not a single light to be seen as the white noise settled. He held his breath while he set his belongings beside the couch. It always felt like this when he came home. He was always welcomed by an overwhelming sense of loneliness. He would shower and crawl into bed, and he would spend the entire night in a restless state.

Ashton hadn’t expected to see you curled up in his sheets. That was where the night different from the many others. He hadn’t expected his heart to fill with such warmth at the mere sight of you. Two in the morning had never felt so good.

You held his pillow tight, and he wondered if it smelled like him. He wondered if you had spent the past few months here, and he wondered if it felt like home to you. Because you looked like home to him. It was like you were meant to be there, all curled up in his bedsheets with his shirt on your back.

Ashton knelt beside you, a smile etched on his features as he ran his fingers through your hair. He had never felt this much love before.

“Hey, bug,” he whispered, grazing his thumb against your cheek while your eyes fluttered.

You stirred beneath him and hummed.

“’m gonna shower, then I’m gonna hug you after,” he said. “Okay?”

You nodded, but a moment later, your eyes snapped open. “Ash!” you yelped. You tossed your arms around his shoulders and pressed yourself against him. “You’re fucking home.”

He chuckled, yet he didn’t reply. He held you tighter and took in your warmth. He took in your scent and the weight of your breaths. He wanted to hold you forever.

You were the first to pull away, a smile never fading as you rested your forehead against his. Your legs had wrapped around his waist, and your fingers twisted in his hair; it was a feeling he’d never let himself forget.

“You forgot to text me when you landed, asshole,” you mumbled.

He laughed again, raising his hand to cup your cheek before kissing you softly. And, like always, you kissed him back. Ashton had loved you for over a year, and perhaps, you loved him in return.

[goddessofthundathighs]

I’ll Take Yo Man

A little college Hennessy and Erik foolishness concocted by @hearteyes-for-killmonger & myself. Based on the following prompt:

Friday. The day Hennessy had been looking forward to the whole week. Erik would be home from his most recent deployment the next day and she needed to prepare for his return. She went and got her hair done, opting for a silk press to her usually springy curls. She followed that up with a well deserved pedicure and a full-set of stiletto dick grabbers, both in his favorite color on her: sunflower yellow. She was now perusing the shelves of MAC, looking to restock her dwindling supply of Snob and Saint Germain lippies and her prep + prime lip primer. The freshly cleaned diamonds in the Cuban link necklace Erik gifted her twinkled under the light of the store, attracting the attention of the young woman working. She was about 5’9, 150 pounds wet with what looked to be a 24-inch body wave weave with a lifting frontal and lipstick that clashed with her undertones. Cute, but not Hennessy. She looked Henny up and down with familiarity before her eyes finally landed on the letter E tattoo that rested on her collarbone.

“Oh, you must be the new freak of the week?”

“Excuse me?” Hennessy asked with a raised eyebrow. Erik was popular, so it was no surprise that the whole state of Massachusetts knew that he was officially off the market.

“I know that Cuban, he gave me one like it when we were fucking around. Erik?”

“Who are you?” The name tag on her chest read Brittani, but it should’ve said Bold Bitch, seeing as how she was questioning Henny like she was Erik’s mother.

“I’m Brittani. Erik and I fucked around on the regular up until about a year ago.”

Hennessy smiled as Brittani spoke, remembering the day that he stumbled on her doorstep.

"And you still on him? Baby, move on." This caused Brittani to give her the most menacing look.

“Funny, you’re bigger than his usual type.”

Oh, you one of them bitches. Salty as the everlasting fuck that a thicc bitch took the nigga you wanted.

“Any particular reason why you’re divulging this information? I’m just tryna buy some lipstick not hear your dating history.”

Brittani smirked, snatching the items from Hennessy’s hands and ringing them up aggressively.

"History tends to repeat itself. I could take your man. Easily! Look at me and look at you.”

Hennessy laughed loudly then, completely disregarding the Great Value Cyn Santana. Having been officially dating the soon-to-be King of Wakanda for a year now, she was used to slimmer, Instagram-esque women feeling loose at the lips when it came to her boyfriend. At face value, Erik was the total package. He was incredibly smart, handsome, and his sex could convert even the most devout nun. But the real Erik, the fragile lost boy who had discovered his father’s lifeless body when he was only a young boy, that was a completely different story. The real Erik was moody, mean, and when he was in Killmonger-mode, a vengeful shell of a man that cared about nobody else’s feelings but his own. It had taken some time, but Hennessy had skillfully and meticulously broken down some of the rougher areas of his psyche and had learned things about him that no one else would dream of knowing. In him, she'd found a kindred spirit. A twin flame. They had bonded over their love for marijuana and their need to escape the realities of their tragic childhoods. She'd seen him at his weakest, his ugliest, and his most tragic. They'd butt heads and found homeostasis more times in a month than most couples even saw each other. She knew no one else could handle the man she called hers and she’d be lying if she said the idea of someone trying was not comical.

“I'll tell you what. You can have him, but I guarantee after 24 hours you’ll give him back.”

“Shiiid. I know what that dick is like and I swore that if I ever got it again, I’d never let him go.”

Hennessy laughed harder as the young woman slid the bag of purchased items across the counter.

“I’ll give you 24 hours. Any longer and you're stuck with him.”

“Deal.”

-------------------------------------------

“You really out here tryna pimp a nigga, huh?” Erik asked from his place between Hennessy's legs. After having successfully broken her back on every surface of their shared apartment since he stepped foot in the door the previous day, Erik was now lazily resting on Hennessy’s belly while she massaged through his dreads. He had missed the way her plush body melted into his, much like the memory foam mattress they were currently lounging on. He loved the way their bodies fit together, like Bast had created her just for him. She was his personal Sour Patch kid, sweet and sour depending on her mood, but always soft.

“It’s only pimping if we're getting paid. Lil’ Mama said she could take you from me, so I told her she could have you. You and I both know you’ll be back.”

“You damn right. You’re my favorite brown liquor and plus, I can’t leave my Creole lady for too long. What you gonna do while I’m gone?”

Um, party? She thought to herself.

“Relax,” she said instead. Though there were experiments that needed to be done, she was going to use the day for some much needed self-care. Her hair had long since sweated out from its silky state, so she planned to wash and twist it, exfoliate and shave, and binge watch all the shows she’d missed during the week.

“You relaxed while I was gone, ma,” he pouted as he snuggled closer to her.

“No, I worked while you were gone. You know I have to keep busy so I don’t miss ya fat head ass so much.”

“You love my fat head though, boffum,” he teased as he ran his fingertips up her thighs.

“You’re disgusting,” she sneered.

“Filthy,” he called back, dipping his fingers between her thighs, drawing a soft mewl from her.

“Again?” she pouted.

“I missed my baby,” he growled before his tongue met her folds.

Here we go again.

-----------------------------------------

Erik watched Brittani's back, unimpressed by her lack of food and general unpreparedness. Hadn't she heard that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach? She sat a bowl in front of him and stuck a spoon in it like she was done.

“Bruh. What the fuck is this? I asked for shrimp and grits, not oatmeal,” Killmonger fussed from his seat at Brittani’s counter. He had been in one of his moods ever since he came over, mentally noting to curse his girlfriend out for subjecting him to such torture, and now she was trying to kill him. Immediately he began to remember why he cut Brittani off in the first place. She was cute, but that was all she had going for herself. She couldn’t cook, she wouldn’t clean, and she was always in his business and trying to go through his phone. If she wasn’t trying to force herself onto his dick then she was whining about wanting him to take her shopping and show her off, though she wasn’t much of a trophy. She couldn't even keep her wig under control. He could see the screen door material sitting on top of her forehead. Henny always put makeup on hers. He could see her in the mirror now, doing that goofy ass dance she did whenever she got a new wig, patting and parting to make sure it looked good. He looked down at his watch. 16 more hours to go. This was finna be a long day.

“That is shrimp and grits, babe. I followed the recipe and everything.” Hennessy didn’t need a recipe.

“My name is Erik,” he reminded her as he tried to lift the spoon from the bowl. “Call me babe again and I’ll slit ya throat,” he threatened, mostly serious. “Why the grits so thick? Did you devein the shrimp? Is this a shell?!” His appetite quickly diminished when he spotted a creature the size of his thumb crawl across the stovetop.

“SHIT…. I’m going to the gym,” he snarled dusting himself, suddenly paranoid.

You love me especially gentle every time // You keep me on my feet happily excited // By your cologne, your hands, your smile, your intelligence // You woo me, you court me, you tease me, you please me // You school me, give me some things to think about // Ignite me, you invite me, you co-write me, you love me, you like me // You incite me to chorus, ooh

Back at their apartment, Henny was soaking in a vanilla lavender bath while her curls deep conditioned under her large pink bonnet. Jill Scott serenaded her while the warm water soothed her aching muscles, an indication of the previous night’s activities. Her music was interrupted by her ringtone.

“Miss me already, Daddy?” she teased, putting the phone on speaker so she could finish her bath.

“This bitch got bugs bigger than me crawling around her shit. Them bitches benching 350. I’m not sleeping there tonight for them niggas to jump me in my sleep.. and I’ma beat ya ass when I get home,” he fussed, still dusting himself occasionally as he drove.

“Aww, baby it can’t be that bad,” Hennessy tried.

“She needed a recipe for shrimp and grits. Who the fuck needs a recipe for shrimp and grits?! It’s in the fuckin’ title! Damn shrimp still had shells on ‘em, the grits was hard as a fuckin’ brick… it was just a mess. Then Craig the Cockroach or whatever the fuck it was came crawling across the stove like he was lookin’ for a plate too. I had to go.”

Hennessy was a giggling mess as Erik explained his morning ordeal.

“Didn’t y’all use to fuck around? You ain’t know she had roaches?”

“I used to fuck that bitch in her driveway cuz she lived with her mama. I had no idea what the inside of that place looked like.”

“You was a dirty dick ass nigga, huh? Just sticking it in anything warm.”

“First of all, fuck you. Second of all, I’m aware of the error of my past judgement, but this is NOT the time to be making jokes. I’m distraught and you laughing. If I die in there, it’s your fault.”

“I mean, according to ya military paperwork I’m ya wife, so I’ll get a nice check.”

“Wooooooow, it really be ya own people. Just for that I’m going in ya ass with no lube tomorrow.”

“Wait, I take it back. I’m sorry. If you wanna come back sooner, handle her. Make it so she knows you're mine or help her move on. One or the other.”

“BET.” With that, the line went dead and Hennessy already knew which option he chose. She had basically given Killmonger permission to hurt this young lady’s feelings, and boy did he intend to do just that.

-----------------------------------------

Hennessy was mid happy baby pose when her phone rang again, this time with an unfamiliar number. She cleared her throat and pulled out the French, just in case it was a bill collector or one of Erik’s more shady acquaintances.

“Bonjour, Aurélie.” She was met with the sound of soft sniffles, followed by her boyfriend’s voice roaring in the background.

“The fuck you crying for? You knew what that shit looked like when you woke up this morning. Didn’t even try to run a brush through it. That ain’t what Beyoncé meant when she said she woke up like this.”

“Please come get this nigga,” Brittani said between sniffles. She had had it. Ever since Erik had returned from the gym he had been tearing into her. Hennessy knew it would happen and she almost felt bad for releasing the beast. Almost.

"I would’ve kissed you good morning just to be nice but I went through your bathroom cabinets and you ain't got no mouthwash. Your toothbrush look like it was originally owned by George Washington and your breath smells like halitosis personified. And don’t get me started on Craig the Cockroach. That nigga probably twerked his ass all over your lips and your tongue the way you were snoring. Why you sleep with your mouth open when you got roaches?”

“That’s actually a valid question. That can’t be healthy,” Henny finally spoke up.

“That nigga Craig pay rent or is he like Bruhman from the fif flo? This his house, huh? You just his pet human.”

“Nigga!” Hennessy exclaimed through the phone. She had been successful at keeping her laughs at bay, but was done when he called her the roach’s pet human.

“I can’t do this anymore, you can have him back.”

“It’s only been 9 hours, sis. I thought you said you’d never let that dick go.”

"So now you don't wanna be with me because I'm telling yo triflin’ ass the truth? And who said she was getting dick?! Nah, you ain’t about to put no voodoo curses on me for sticking my dick in the Men In Black bug. I try to bust a nut and my shit just fall off. Hell nah.”

“Just get ya shit and go, nigga. Shamu can have you.” Time seemed to stop once those words left her lips. Even Craig the Cockroach disappeared. It was one thing to disrespect him, but his woman? All bets were off when it came to her and Brittani was about to learn this the hard way. With deadly stealth Erik zipped from across the room to right in front of her face. He wiggled the phone from Brittani’s grasp and ended the call before putting his face as close to hers as his nostrils would allow.

"You fix them crusty lips to call my woman Shamu one more time.. and I'll throw you in the ocean with Bruhman chained to your ankle like a weight." Brittani remained silent, only nodding her head fervently when he was done.

"Nah, you know what? That's not good enough. Call my girl back. Yeah, call her."

“Yeeesss?” Hennessy sang from the other end of the phone.

"The bit-, I mean Brittani got something to say to you. Go 'head."

Brittani hesitated, Erik's eyes giving her the option to cooperate or face consequences. He'd taken pictures of her dirty stove capturing a roach on the move and was threatening to post it on a MAC forum along with a short video of her asleep with a roach on her forehead. She decided it would be best for her to cooperate and cut her losses.

"Hi, Hennessy. I'm sorry for what I said to you and you were right, I couldn't handle him. I guess..," she wavered briefly, "I guess you're a better woman than me all-around. I could never. I see that now."

Erik cleared his throat quietly.

"Oh, a-and you're very beautiful, very statuesque and curvaceous. I wish I looked like you--"

“You don’t have to lie, now, sweetheart. You don’t wish you looked like me, you’re only saying that because you’re afraid of what he’ll do to you if I give the word. However, let this be a lesson to you. Just because you think you’re better than someone, that may not always be the case. Even if this little experiment had been his own choice, he’d still come back to me because he knows that no woman will ever treat him the way that I do. I’m one in a million and he’d be stupid to let me go.”

"So I can come home now?"

“Of course you can, Daddy. I got homemade crab cakes and lobster man n cheese waiting for you as well as two freshly pearled blunts of some new shit. I even felt generous and made a bananas foster cheesecake.” Erik’s mouth watered when she mentioned the dessert he fell in love with when they visited her parents the previous summer.

"A nigga need a bath, a nap, and a backrub. I ain't get no sleep. I had one eye open all night."

“You can have whatever you like, baby. My schedule is clear for the next week.”

“Shiiiit, I’m on my way.. And be naked when I get there.”

Horny ass nigga.

"Take notes," he said to Brittani as he hung up. “And tell my nigga Craig he can have them clothes. I ain’t tryna bring none of y’all kids home.”

TAGS: @panthergoddessbast @amethyst1993 @vikkidc @blackpantherismyish @youreadthatright @mareethequeen @princessstevens @bartierbakarimobisson @madamslayyy @nickidub718 @chaneajoyyy @blowmymbackout @muse-of-mbaku @killmongersgurl @thehomierobbstark @forbeautyandlife @wakanda-inspired @thadelightfulone @purple-apricots @trevantesbrat

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #42

“i don’t ask much, i just want you.”

have you ever been to the white house?   no, i haven't. what are your plans for tomorrow?   not shit.  like always.  maybe be able to adopt my snake. do you have a debit card?   no why did you stop working at the last place you were employed?   i kept having anxiety attacks that induced vomiting. have you ever made out with a complete stranger?   no...? what would you do if you found out your ex was pregnant/fathered a child?   probably kill myself. are you very close to your siblings?   no would you kiss the last person you kissed again?   i'd love to. what bugged you about the last person you dated?   well i know now that he's not very understanding.  but he tried to be. have you ever slapped someone, why?   i hit my sister when i was little.  don't remember why. have you ever had sex with someone the same night you met them?   no, because i'm not a whore. if you could fly or breathe underwater, what would you choose?   the latter, i think. is your life the same as it was a year ago?   exactly the fucking same. are you in love with someone?   should be obvious enough. what is your relationship status? are you happy with that?   single, and no.  i'm lonely as fuck. have you ever thought you could do a better job at being president?   hell no. when people smoke around you, does it make you cough?   sometimes.  it'll always give me a headache. would you rather name your child michelle or monica?   michelle do you know anyone who works at mcdonald’s?   no have you ever felt like you lost a part of yourself?   i KNOW i fucking have.  when jason left, it was like the majority of me fucked off. have you ever suspected your mom or dad of having an affair?   no. when you younger and misbehaved, what did your parents threaten you with?   mom would threaten to spank me or take away computer privileges do you think it’s weird how babies are made?   i mean yeah, i guess, but it is what it is. how would you react if your last ex wanted to get back together?   i would just... fuck, man.  i'd be so damn happy. are you comfortable in a short skirt?   fuck no. do you and your family go on a vacation every year?   no.  we never do. when you were going out with your last ex and you had the chance to date your celebrity crush, would you have left your bf/gf for them?   absolutely not.  i don't care who my celeb crush is, no one lights a candle to jason. does your dad swear?   yeah if your last kiss asked you on a date, what would you say?   absofuckinglutely!!! do you think braces are sexy?   does anybody, really?  it's just something you tolerate.  i don't think anyone's "sexy quotient" is affected by whether or not she/he wears braces. do you know anyone that is gothic?   i'd love to be a goth if i could afford the wardrobe. how many coats of mascara do you use?   like two what were you almost named?   kathryn does your family hire someone to do your chores for you?   no do you know how to use photoshop?   very vaguely how about sony vegas?   yeah what is the main reason you want to have children when you grow up?   idk, i just... do?  when i was with jason, i wanted children because i loved him so much and thus human instinct would have it i wanted his kids, but now that i'm with nobody idk, i just want kids one day.  i guess. what do you struggle with?  depression, anxiety, ptsd, bipolarity, no job, no money...  i struggle with everything. are you self conscious?  VERY what is the name on your birth certificate (feel free to withhold your last name for privacy reasons)?   brittany marie is all you need to know. what day did you take your first breath?   february 5th, 1996 what are the names of the lovely individuals that brought you into this world?   donna and ken. the stereotyped image of a girl LOVES to shop. does this hold true to you?   i like to shop only if it's for myself.  i know that sounds greedy, but i just like... don't get the pleasure sensation otherwise. even if shopping isn’t your favorite... every girl has a favorite store. what’s yours?   hottopic which type of undies do you wear most: Thongs, bikini/briefs, bootyshorts, or granny panties?   if i wear underwear, bikini. describe your style for me, using minimal words?   comfortable do you have a walk in closet? do you even have a closet it all?   no, yes. tampons or pads? why?   tampons, because i don't like feeling like wearing a bloody diaper. do you ever pamper yourself? what do you do?   no, because i'm fucking poor. do you like surprises?   no.  i get scared of what it is. how many people of the opposite sex do you fully trust?   none. when is the last time you watched a hockey game?   yearrrrssss ago. ever been paid for sex or a sexual favor?   nope. have you ever been to a strip club?  no, and i never will. do you listen to a variety of music, or do you tend to stick to one genre?   i stick to a genre.  metal. when you’re going to be at home all day, do you bother to get out of your pajamas?   no.  which is like every day. do you play angry birds?   no.  i just recently saw the movie tho and it was super cute. what do you have pierced on you?   ears, nose. what’s important about april?   my little sister's birthday is there anyone who hates you?   probably if I say “psycho”, who is the first person that comes to your mind?   me dated someone more than once?   no where did you get the last shirt you were wearing?   hottopic does your mom know your deepest darkest secrets?   no. are you scared of needles?   nah, not really. do you know what an ‘amv’ is?   yeah, i make them sometimes. how many songs are on your ipod/mp3 player?   over 1,000 are there any orange clocks in your house?   no do mice freak you out?  not at all. how many formal dances did you or have you gone to in high school?   i went to two proms. is there a certain movie you always cry at when you watch it?   yeah, "the notebook" tears me up everytime. are any of your siblings married?  yeah do you like kiwi?   hell yes. ever go ghost hunting?   no when it’s time to dress up for a special occasion, are you more likely to wear a dress, a skirt, or dress pants?   dress if you eat oatmeal, do you add water or milk to it? what is your favorite flavor?   milk, bc i dislike its flavor when i add water.  my fave's apples and cinnamon. if you could only own a hair dryer, curling iron, or straightener, which one would you choose?   straightener if you’re straight, have you ever thought about kissing the same sex? if you’re gay, have you ever thought about kissing the opposite sex?   no. your last relationship, who dumped who?   he dumped me. do you believe in love at first sight? explain.   no, because even thinking it's possible to look at someone and love them is ignorant as fuck. do you keep a planner?   no, because i don't need one.  i don't do anything significant, ever. do you want kids anytime soon?   no. are you excited for next year?   not really.  new years doesn't mean anything.  what occurs in time isn't affected by one year suddenly ending and changing into another.  2017 will be just as bad as 2016, probably. do you know any german words?   i took four classes of it, i know plenty. do you say any words that are pretty specific to your area?   no have you ever smoked?   nope can you make yourself cry?  no. have you ever held a starfish?   i don't think so. would you rather live in hawaii or alaska?   alaska could you use a haircut?   totally what do you put on your scrapes or cuts?   usually, nothing.  sometimes a band-aid. do you like cheez-its or cheese nips better?   cheez-its by a long shot. have you ever held a snake?   yes.  i hope to again very soon<3 do you know anyone from canada?   yeah, jacob's ex.  nice girl. has a wild animal ever been loose in your house?   mice are you scared to look at your own organs on x-ray or ultrasound?   naw, shit's cool. have you ever met an alaskan?   only online.  my friend mikaela's alaskan. did you ever play spyro?   lmao.  i'd STILL be playing it if i had my ps2. have you ever had a near death experience?   car wreck, yeah. do you think some babies are ugly?   some definitely are. do you love stuff crusted pizza?   no, actually. do you apply lotion after you bathe?   no, but i REALLY should. has a youtube video of yours ever gotten over 10,000 views?  nah son. would you ever get a tattoo on your collar bone?   ha ha, i already do. do gangs scare you?   of course they do.  the bloods tried to break into our house once when ashley was home alone with maddie. what do you think of girls with huge boobs that don’t wear bras in public?   i don't care how big your boobs are, if your breasts are developed, wear a bra, please.  it's only to be decent. does your best friend wear makeup?   she rarely does. do you prefer to fix the problems or just end the relationship?   be a fucking adult and fix the damn problems. would you rather have donuts or donut holes?   donuts do you still watch movies on vhs?   no, mom got rid of ours have you used a ouija board and had a freaky experience with it?   no, never used one. what’s one health problem you wish you didn’t have?   get rid of my depression.  god, please. what “group” did you belong to in high school?   everyone considered me an emo.  guess i was and still am one, i'm so ridiculously emotional. what is the best thing you have done in your life?   dated jason. what is your favorite animal? list three adjectives to explain your choice.   meerkats, as they're very social, ridiculously bold, and curious. what was your nickname growing up?   twinkie if you could be anything in the world, what would you be and why?   a meerkat biologist, because i love meerkats so much and they make me happy. have you ever had feelings for 2 people at the same time?   nope. if you found someone seemingly perfect for you, but it turned out they had a child… would you still give the relationship a chance?   at my age, no. if your best friend of the opposite sex tried to kiss you, would you start kissing them back?  probably not, honestly. have you ever kissed someone who has previously kissed someone you hated?   yep do you think the next person you kiss will be a better kisser than the last person you kissed?   HA.  i HIGHLY doubt that.