#probably gonna have to move somewhere even shittier soon

[truly-sincerely]

When I was younger I used to go to internet meetups with a bunch (~60) of mostly Americans and Canadians and I got really good at picking up hyper-specific regional accents. I think because I'm a little tone deaf so I can't really tell the difference between similar voices, so my brain focused on pronunciation to tell people apart instead.

There was only one other person in the group from 'the south coast' that's Southern California (SoCal) but specifically the area North of Los Angeles. He was from Thousand Oaks and I'm from Santa Barbara. We had the same accent.

People from San Diego (South of Los Angeles) or San Francisco (in NorCal) had their own accents.

rb this and tell me what ur accent is. this has no purpose except the fact i just realized i could have like... mutuals with cockney accents or newfoundland accents or something and thats just wild

[yoshkeii]

"𝚄𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍."

࿐ character(s): Daishou Suguru, Atsumu Miya, Sakusa Kiyoomi

࿐ genre: angst

࿐ type: headcanons (hcs)

࿐ requested by: dumpsterfireinc

⌦ find the continuation here;-  “𝚂𝚎𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎.”

⌦ tw/mentions ; yelling, arguments, swearing/curses, cheating (atsumu’s)

⌦  male!reader (he/him)

⌦ 'can I ask for hcs for Daishou, Atsumu, and Sakusa having a really heated argument with male s/o. During the argument the boys say something really mean to their s/o that s/o starts to cry. Before the boys could start apologizing s/o just blurts out that he wishes he never met them and leaves.’

A/N: (i changed it slightly if you dont mind-) we got three new bois im writing for, lets hope i get their personality right. so i apologize in advanced if they seem ooc! (youcantellwhereihalfassedshitimsosorry-)

𝙳𝚊𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞:

→ the argument probably started with his slight manipulative personality and mocking sense of humor, it usually didn’t get to you but lately it has been hitting too close to home. letting it slide with the silence of your voice and change of mood each time.

→ coming back home you didn’t know it would evolve into this, but Daishou Suguru, your boyfriend of 2 years. noticed it and decided to question you.

→ the air was tensed within the shared home you two lived in, it was suffocating despite the room being open and wide. hearing the dark-olive hair male behind you, who was clearly speaking to you. hearing words that you couldn’t comprehend to be anything but venomous.

→ each word stung like a snakes bite. ironic for his previous school’s mascot.

→ Daishou had kept going on, stabbing at you word after word.

→ “You’ve been acting weird all day, what’s up with that?” “..even recently you’ve been off.” “hey are you even-”

→ before Dai could even finish he heard you raise your voice, seeing your hand clench around the doorknob of your guys’ shared rooms.

→ “WHY DONT YOU SHUT UP FOR JUST A SECOND!?” “ YOU..Y-you.. should damn well know w-why I’m acting ‘weird’ and shit, babe.” “You know those- those mocks and insults- you- you fucking call ‘jokes’ aren’t really jokes. Daishou.”

→ your eyes kept low with the casting shadow from the lack of lights in the hall. but the shakiness of your voice signaled something in him, but his stupid pride wouldn’t let down.

→ “Are you serious right now, y/n? We’ve been dating for fucking almost 3 years and now they get to you-” “..really ridiculous of you.” 

→ it went off afterwards. just the words being said at each other with such emotion, none of you have seen each other like this... well.. not towards one another. it was just foreign and strange.

→ “you’re such a sensitive crybaby, fucking christ y/n.” “and if those weren’t jokes, you’d still damn take it like nothing.”

→ freezing as soon the words slipped out from his lips, it grew densely silent. your hand slipping off the doorknob, gaze lowering down onto the floor. only focusing in on the shoes kept on.

→ “..h-hey, babe- i- didn’t-” Daishou realized the words he said, it may not be harmful to most, but knowing you. he knew you hated being called anything of the such, even the shit he decided to add made his heart ache with regret.

→ watching you hurry off towards the front door, to supposedly leave, he grabbed your wrist. before you whacked his hand away, 

→ “D-dont fucking touch me. I don’t w-wanna... fuckin hear it. Not now. Or even ever.” “..i should’ve never met you, i was damn stupid enough to think this will last longer with that- dare you did.” “..you probably never loved me.”

→ watching you slip off outside in the night, he didn’t know what to do. hands clenching into fists, as he heard your steps fade away and into silence. the air was more tensed, more suffocating. his mind was clouded with something unfamiliar to him.

→ ‘..how did he know about that.’ 

𝙰𝚝𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚞:

→ you always had a sneaking suspicion. you always did. that instinctive feeling ;lm, jn your gut that you should’ve trusted. it was dumb of you to push it away because of the hope you had. well... false hope.

→ you always caught him not at the spot after his practice, the usual spot. always questioning his team to know where he could’ve ran off, they all gave off a shrug and sometimes a slight assumption you followed. leading somewhere more secluded and hidden, to avail to not find him.

→ stumbling back to the previous spot you seem him slink his way at the same time from around a corner... or somewhere. waving up at him and happily greeting him with the usual smile and hug, you question how his hair looked more ruffled and messed up. as if hurried and ruffled up. Atsumu giving a silly excuse of whatever, you shrugged it off. continuing on with the rest of your days together.

→ this would continue a few times. but different things would seem off about him every time, and you took note. occasionally questioning again, before being shot down with an excuse. taking in it again just to not escalate things.

→ as time passed. you began to grow assumptions, noticing how distance he was becoming, having ‘plans’ already up which were not with you, and he often came home late from it. or not, and came home the next day. not even the morning.

→ sitting on the bed of your shared room, you stared idly at the buzzing phone on the nightstand. ‘..’tsumu’s phone is going off.’ as curiosity grew the longer it went on, your boyfriend was in the shower so it wouldn’t be too much of a harm right?

→ peering over to look at the illuminated screen, you blankly stared at the text messages. reading the messages word for word and slowly, ‘..who..’ 

→ staring at the messages and the sender, you knew it was someone who had a liking of your boyfriend... should you even call him that now?

→ swiping the phone from its original position you just watched the messages keep going till it stops to the recent time. you didn’t open the app, but just merely stare at the name. it had a cute nickname and all, similarly to yours. mind becoming hazy and clouded, you didn’t know how long you were staring at Atsumu’s phone till his raising voice snapped you out of the trance.

→ flinching as he snatched his phone away from your hands, you stared up at the fake blonde who had just gotten out of the shower simply wearing nothing but casual sweats with a damp towel hanging off his shoulder. 

→ “Hey! y/n why were ya’ staring at my damn phone?” his gaze was ironed onto you, meeting your [e/c] eyes. you could tell he was furious and he was getting ticked off by each silent second you let by. “not gonna speak? are ya braindead or something honey?”

→ seeing you softly mutter words but it was too quiet to hear, almost like a whisper. but besides the way it was heard, the words itself were not light and gentle.

→ “..why did you cheat..” 

→ a sudden jolt hit him, “..c-cheat? I didn’t cheat on ya’ baby, what are you talking about?” he lied.

→ “now.. you’re lying to me... ‘tsumu.” the softness of your tone was quite concerning, it was saddened and dismal. the building of tears daring to fall any second, you just stared at him with the distraught expression.

→ “What? I’m not ly-” before the fake blonde could slip out the rest of the word, you jumped in.

→ “You are LYING, Miya. Stop acting like you aren’t.” quickly standing up and moving to the side.

→ “How did you even know?” he yelled back, knowing it was worthless to keep up his lies and fake pretending.

→ “Those damn texts-??” you pointed towards his phone that his fist was holding. “..a-are you stupid?” the wavering of your voice made you regret speaking, but it was inevitable and shittier if you left your feelings unsaid.

→ Atsumu’s thick brows furrowed down, “Wait- So you’re telling me ya snooped on my phone?! The fuck is wrong with you!” “..can’t I have some privacy? can’t I!? Y/n!?” he snapped back.

→ “What’s.. wrong with me? With ME-? Miya..” averting your gaze for a quick second, you looked back as you poked him roughly, “..you have been.. been- fucking.. Cheating on me this whole time. A-and.. I know you have been-! Those times you’ve been slipping off after practice. you leaving off to ‘hang out’ with friends? What a fucking. load. of. bullshit. Miya.”

→ tears were dripping down from your eyes, before you bit down your lip for the next response. while the blonde could only stared in silence, conflicted.

  → “I-..I really thought you loved me, that whole time.. really did. and i was a damn fool to have such hopes.” you had hurriedly rushed off to leave the room, the quick muttering of an foreign phrase stabbed his heart.

→ “..i should’ve never met you either.”

→ he didn’t know what to do, but hearing the click of the front door opening and shutting accompanied by your running steps that faded. he knew you weren’t coming back. all he did was stand there in distraught, confusion, troubled, everything.

→ ‘what do i do now..’

𝚂𝚊𝚔𝚞𝚜𝚊:

→ he wouldn’t be the physical affection type person, but at times, you were an exception. knowing you liked to cuddle, gives hugs, and all that jazz. it often took a lot persuasion for him to get to cuddle whenever you had a chance too, having a schedule that often didnt mesh well.

→ so it wasn’t a big deal if it ended up into a confrontation about it, occasionally small arguments. but this one was unexpected, especially to you.

→ hearing Sakusa walk in your shared home, you looked over from your position in the kitchen. giving him a soft welcome home, asking “Hey, Omi! How was your day?”

→ “..pretty irritating.” he muttered from under his mask, pulling it down under his chin as he took off his shoes.

→ instinctively you walked over to hug him at least, but he steered away quickly. obviously denying it without a word. blinking at him, you took the sign and stepped away, apologizing softly under your breath.

→ you were having an off day yourself, some things weren’t going so well for you during the day till you got home. hoping you’d have some time with your boyfriend, wanting to cuddle and maybe a hug at least knowing how he is. 

→ “..I-..uh.. do you wanna cuddle after you shower or-” Sakusa interrupted you bluntly and rather quickly, “no.”

→ only biting down the rest of your words, you softly nodded. seeing him drift off into your shared room, supposedly gonna rinse up. sighing as you went off to do your own thing to wait, hoping he’ll feel a little better for the offer again.

→ he doesn’t.

→ raising your arms up to him as he walked out of the bathroom door, he doesn’t bat an eye towards you. making your heart ache slightly, “..omi? are you okay?” you began to follow him shortly behind into your bedroom.

→ “..didn’t i say i was irritated earlier.” he stiffly said, slipping on a shirt as he did.

→ “i-..i mean yeah but.. are you at me? I’m- uhh.. also having a bad day too y’know.” “i wanted to be with you.”

→ the air was dense. even if there was barely any physical aggression and irritation it would make you cower. as it settled down longer, Sakusa muttered something. it was so clear as day in the suffocating silence.

→ “you’re really so selfish you know that.” “..matches your clingy attitude.”

→ ‘he didn’t care. he didn’t.’ is all you could think of. it just rushed 

→ “..you think I’m selfish?” you repeated, your hands tightening around the edge of your long sleeves. nails almost digging into your palm. “do you really think that.” your soft and gentle demeanor faded quickly.

→ the wavy haired male turn to look at you, seeing your head and gaze kept low and averted from his. seeing your clenching hands, almost penetrated your own skin. instantly regretting his words. 

→ “y/n- I- really didn’t-..” stopping himself he sees the dripping tears fall onto the floor, then your sniffles.

→ “Just- just shut up. I n-need space..” already slipping pass and out the door, he went to go after you yelling out your name. seeing you freeze at the doorway, about to slip on a coat and shoes.

→ “..Sakusa. Just drop it. I don’t- wanna deal with this right now. You.. you made my.. day far worse.”

→ ‘he said.. my last name. not... not my first. shit.’ biting back what else to say, he stood there silently. watching you put on a pair of shoes before rushing off out into the cold.

→ silent fights and arguments is what scares y/n the most. it happens quite often but this was the most suffocating one by far, ruining his day. and his mind. letting the negative overwhelm him more. letting Sakusa’s word stuck in his brain on replay. 

[hiinnys]

love me when it counts

(for @dearginevra: im so sorry this is so late but i hope you like it!! you’re an absolute angel <3) (warning: this gets barely spicy near the end; part 1)

the pub’s the type of packed that has harry rolling his eyes the second he enters. if he’s being honest, out is pretty much the last place he wants to be right now. he started the day in a hellish final that he’s pretty sure he failed, then spent the entire afternoon in the what can only be described as the world’s worst practice (his ankle’s still killing him), and he knows full well that he’s going to be spending all of tomorrow in the kitchen with his father, cooking whatever over-ambitious ‘start of the holidays’ meal he has planned, so harry really just wants to be tucked into his warm bed, catching whatever shut eye he can squeeze in before tomorrow morning.

instead, he’s downtown at a crowded pub with shitty music and even shittier drinks, telling himself he’s there for hermione and ron when he damn well knows his mind is focused on a certain redhead. it’s been a few months, but if he closes his eyes hard enough, he can still see her spread out on the grass of his parents’ backyard, laughing at something he said, a football somewhere to the side of her, long forgotten. they had spent most of the summer like that, harry helping ginny prep for her first season on an official team, and ginny laughing at the worst of harry’s jokes and waving away his congratulations. (“i’m still only a reserve, harry,” she had said again and again.

“and i’m still proud of you, ginny,” he had kept insisting. he had kept the fact that his heart sped up immeasurably at the soft smile she would give him entirely to himself.)

he spots her easily, his eyes apparently deciding that she’s really the only thing worth seeing. she’s standing at the bar, seemingly attempting to figure out how to carry four pints with two hands without failing miserably. his legs are moving before he can really process what he’s doing, and, suddenly, he’s behind her and his mouth is forming words he hopes aren’t as idiotic as he feels.

“need some help?” he watches her shoulders tense up only to immediately fall when she sees it’s him.

“wouldn’t mind it, actually,” ginny smiles up at him and it’s all he can do to return it, grab two of the glasses and follow her back to the table.

***

it’s another three hours before ron and hermione decide they’re spent and head home, muttering something about ‘single people and their endless energy.’ ginny has the decency to wait until they’re at least out of earshot before cracking some terrible joke about how hermione sounded a million years old just now, but harry doesn’t really notice. he’s too busy noticing her and the freckles scattered across her nose and the way her new haircut suits her too damn well. apparently, he’s been noticing a little too long because:

“earth to harry,” ginny’s saying, snapping her fingers in front of his face, breaking him out of his thoughts. “you still there?”

“yeah, sorry, just got lost in my head a bit,” harry blinks, giving her a sheepish smile.

“you’ve been doing that a lot tonight,” she says, her brows furrowing in concern. “you alright?”

harry pauses, thinking about all the ways he’s definitely not alright, and how he wants, more than anything, to tell her that. to tell her she’s been running circles in his head for longer than he cares to think about and that sitting next to her like this, laughing and talking and pretending everything’s normal, has been slowly killing him, but he doesn’t know the right words, doesn’t think he ever will. so maybe it’s because of the alcohol - or maybe it’s because he’s the dumbest person to ever live - but he doesn’t bother with the words, just listens to the urges, and suddenly, without attention to a single other thing in the world, he’s kissing her. for a moment, she stiffens - and he thinks he’s fucked everything up, blown both their lives to hell - but then she leans as heavily into him as he’s leaning into her and it’s pure bliss.

harry has a half a mind to think about all the times he’s imagined this moment - the two of them finally doing this - and just how wrong he was about it, because no amount of imagining could have ever prepared him for how good it feels. she’s everything, ginny is. she’s more than everything. she’s the earth, the sun, the entire damn galaxy, and when she finally pulls back, it’s like he’s lost all oxygen.

“do you wanna get out of here?” she mumbles against his lips, laughs beautifully when he breathes fuck yes back.

he gets up to pay the tab, if only to give himself something to think about that isn’t her, except that if he could ever actually stop thinking about her, he probably wouldn’t have spent the past year and a half of his life in his own personal hell. she comes up behind him and he doesn’t have the brain space for musing anymore, because she’s interlocking their hands and pulling him out of the door and speed-walking them towards his place, all with a glimmering smile that he’s pretty sure could power all of london.  

it feels endless, the walk back to his place, though he knows logically that it’s only about ten minutes. an eternity when gin weasley’s holding your hand he thinks distantly as unlocks the door. as soon as they cross the threshold of his darkened flat, ginny’s got him pinned against the door, and if harry’s brain was still working, he would marvel at her speed. her mouth’s back on his, but it’s not the same wonderment from the pub. this kiss is hard, insistent, thrilling. it’s scorching harry’s nerve endings and lighting him on fire, like he’s kissing the sun instead of ginny. he wonders, somewhere in the back of his mind, if this is what it feels like to see an angel, burning in its heavenly glory. thinks maybe ginny is his angel, his piece of heaven, leading him to some distant salvation. knows that, even if he’s wrong, he’ll worship her all the same.

they stumble their way to his room, all but fall onto his bed, never breaking their kiss even for a second. when it’s too much, when the oxygen runs out, they pull back, and harry immediately moves to her neck, dragging his teeth against the soft skin and reveling in the way ginny breathes his name. he doesn’t know how long he stays there - kissing her neck, her collarbone, every piece of skin he can get his mouth on - or how much time passes as they explore each other, hands mapping each other’s bodies like it would kill them to forget, but he doesn’t quite care. he could stay with ginny forever and it wouldn’t be enough. so, when his phone rings in the morning, he tells his dad that he’s gonna be late, that it’s unavoidable, but he’ll be there soon enough. then he hangs up, puts the phone on silent, and loses himself in ginny for a few more hours, giddy smile on his face the entire time.

[softtm]

sunflower [21]

“If you crash the damn car Lucas, I will kill you,” you warned, holding tightly onto the handlebar by your seat. If you knew he was going to be a shittier driver than you, then you would have insisted to drive but here you are instead, in the front seat, praying that you would make it to the party alive and not scratched. Lucas laughs from the driver’s seat which did not reassure you at all.

After numerous hard stops and missed speeding tickets, you make it to the party alive and you couldn’t be happier to get out of the death contraption. You give Lucas a glare to which he shrugs off, walking over to you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“We’re a couple right now, remember?” he reminds you with a wink as you walk to the door. You grumble a bit but go back into the role of playing his girlfriend once you go through the door.

Through it, you’re greeted with the smell of sweaty bodies, alcohol, and strangely the smell of cat. Your nose scrunched up at the last one. Looking around, you see a decent amount of people but knowing Ten and Johnny, there were going to be a lot more of them in an hour or two.

Lucas leads you to the kitchen, saying that he’s hoping to snack on some pizza before the real fun starts making you roll your eyes. By the looks of his plan, you were going to have to chop off his dick tomorrow.

Before you can verbalize this, Johnny comes into the kitchen to start a conversation with you. Of course you don’t stop him because Johnny Suh was one charismatic guy and sure knew how to have conversations. All his talking distracts you enough so that you don’t notice Lucas on his phone typing frantically.

Before your convo with Johnny could continue any longer, Lucas throws an arm over you shoulder and winks at Johnny. Johnny getting the message, excused himself and winks back at Lucas leaving a very confused you in the middle of them.

“Come on, I’m gonna show you something but it’s a surprise,” he suddenly says, putting his large hand over your eyes so that your sense of sight is cut off. You let out a little scream that probably got somebody’s attention at the sudden darkness but decided to let him do it anyways. What’s the worse that could happen? You were going to die anyways.

You walk up what you assume are the stairs after bumping into several of what you presume to be people and furniture and get led to somewhere unknown. When you heard a door close you stop in your tracks causing Lucas to walk into you and his hands to leave your face

“Lucas Wong, I am not fucking you,” you declared out loud after you take a look of your surroundings. A bedroom. More specifically Ten’s bedroom.

Before you could say anymore, the door opens again and in comes your bestest of friend and the reason you were dying, Lee Donghyuck. And he wasn’t alone either, with Mari trailing behind him.

Feeling the flowers crawl up your throat again, you just are about to run off when Lucas literally shoves you on the bed before running out the room and shoving Donghyuck on the bed next to you and closing the door. You hear the sound of a lock and Mari and Lucas talking about a closet or something outside.

Hearing Donghyuck groaned from next to you, you turn over to him, ready to ask if he was okay but instead, you started throwing up the petals on him. You meet Donghyuck’s wide eyes with your wins before you start looking around the room for any way of escape. Before you could move, Donghyuck grabbed your wrist so that you couldn’t get away.

“Who is it?” he asks quietly. Finally looking at him straight on, ready to talk, you realize you can’t. Not right now. Not when he’s right in front of you looking all innocent like that. You weren’t ready to break your own heart yet and you weren’t ready to let him know. Instead you just shake you head, hoping that he gets the message.

“Tell me about him then,” Donghyuck suggests and you think you could do that much for now. Taking a look at him closely this time, you begin.

“Well, he’s my sunshine. As chessy as it might sound, his laugh brightens up my day and makes me forget everything around us except him. His smile is the purest smile I’ve ever seen and I want to protect that smile for as long as I live. But that aside, I love him for him I guess. How he cheers me up just by sending me a text, how he makes me laugh just by sitting there, and especially how important he makes me feel. He has a big heart no matter what front he puts up and I guess I love him for that,” you rant, thinking back to all the good times. Even back before you realized you loved him.

Just as you were about to continue talking, Donghyuck lets out a cough. And with that cough came a perfectly shaped pink petal that fell onto your lap.

Now it was your turn to be surprised and confused. Why did he cough it up now? Who did he have feelings for that he coughed it up when you were talking about him? Noticing your confusion, Donghyuck decided that he might as well tell you now.

“ I love you,” he said at last, the words making you freeze as soon as they came out of him mouth. Those three words. He looks up and you make eye contact.

He took your lack of words as rejection and deflated he started to get mumble out his apologies and head to the door. Before he could even take a step, you grab his wrist and pull him back to you into a kiss.

With your lips on his, you could feel your stress melt and your throat clear up, the hurting of your heart gone in a snap. Donghyuck kisses you back, arms wrapped around your waist now while yours found their ways around his neck.

Pulling away, the both of you were breathless. Ready for another kiss you begin to lean in again when Donghyuck stops you.

“I’ve admitted my feelings, I think it’s your turn to admit yours,” he teases making you giggle.

“I,” you begin giving him a kiss on his left cheek.

“Love,” you continue with the right cheek this time.

“You,” you ended placing a kiss on his cheek which he gladly return, happy that everything was going to turn out alright.

[prev] [next]

(special thanks to @mrklyy who helped with writers block this chapter and to all y’all readers who waited so long for this chapter. one more part to go)

[ohblackdiamond]

little t&a (paul/gene, nc-17) (part 10 of 29)

part 1   part 2   part 3   part 4   part 5   part 6   part 7   part 8   part 9   part 10   part 11   part 12   part 13   part 14   part 15   part 16   part 17   part 18   part 19   part 20   part 21  part 22   part 23   part 24    part 25   part 26   part 27   part 28   part 29

Four weeks before KISS gets back on tour, Gene discovers that Paul’s been cursed by a groupie. For the sake of KISS’ finances, Paul’s comfort levels, and Gene’s libido, this crisis must be resolved. Sexswap fic. In this chapter: More shopping, more problems, and Ace and Peter enact their plan.

           The call to Steve Rubell (or rather, his secretary—Steve, apparently, didn't get up any earlier than two in the afternoon) wasn't the only one Gene made that morning. At Paul's urging, Gene called to have clothes sent over from his house, and a handful of standard accessories. He felt a little bare wearing only his skull ring. Paul kept attempting to advise him as he tried to piece together an image- and Studio 54-suitable outfit from memory of what was in his closets. In the end he just settled on an outfit comprised almost entirely out of black leather. A vague step up from his CBGB outfit, at least.

           "You think I should go to another boutique?" Paul asked as soon as he'd hung up. He'd changed into jeans and a low-cut, frilly purple blouse, more of yesterday's purchases. He kept fiddling with the floppy bow in the front, untying and retying it as he spoke, moving it to the side, then the middle. Sitting beside him on the edge of the bed, he looked like a nervous kid, tapping one bare foot against the floor.

           "Not unless you want to."

           "I dunno. Nothing I have is going to pass muster."

           "Didn't you buy a dress?"

           Paul grimaced.

           "It wasn't anything special. Do you know how many people they don't let in to Studio 54, just because of the outfit?"

           "Paul, you know we'll get in."

           "Yeah, we'll get in, but the press is out there every night. There's gonna be pictures, Gene."

           Gene hesitated. Except for when they'd found Carol's old apartment, Paul's mood seemed to improve, at least a little, whenever they'd ventured out. He hadn't seemed to mind getting clothes that much—sure, he'd taken forever about it, but that wasn't abnormal—and he hadn't picked out sackcloth and ashes for himself, either. Minus the bow, the blouse was something Paul probably would've worn in his regular body, even, except Gene would've been greeted with a hell of a lot of chest hair instead of cleavage.

           "I think what you've got on is probably fine."

           "You haven't been over there. It's picky as hell."

           "We're in KISS, we'll get in."

           "I don't want to just get in! I—" Paul shook his head. "God, you don't understand."

           "What's there to understand?"

           "There's getting in and then there's looking good, Gene. Looking like you belong."

           Gene tilted his head.

           "Do you really want to belong at Studio 54?" Gene had heard, from admittedly irreputable sources, that Rubell would hand out coke at the VIP entrance like it was balloons at the carnival. The basement was supposed to hold nothing but orgies. Yeah, Paul liked to dance, and he liked to rub elbows with people outside of KISS' questionable echelon, but he wasn't a drug addict, and he wasn't a heavy sex fiend. Two things that were practically prerequisites for that place.

           "I wanna belong somewhere," Paul said abruptly, and then shook his head, as though he hadn't really realized he was speaking out loud. "I—what I mean is, I don't wanna come off like I'm some chick you yanked off the front row 'cause she showed you her tits."

           "You don't come that cheap, Paul."

           "Oh, shut up. You get it, right? You get it."

           Gene kind of got it. The closest he could come was envisioning going onstage without the makeup. The one protective shield between fantasy and reality. A funhouse mirror it'd be suicide to step away from. It wasn't that they were shittier musicians without a bunch of paint and leather on, any more than Clark Kent stopped being faster than a speeding bullet once he put on his glasses—but it ruined the magic. Flattened the ego.

           He'd known Paul long enough to realize Paul's ego had been flattened since he'd started grammar school, if not before. Album sales and Billboard climbing never seemed to boost it for long. Being stuck in the wrong body for a week had to have killed whatever was left.

"If you wanna get another outfit, then we'll get you another outfit."

           "Yeah?"

           "Yeah."

--

           Three hours later, Paul had another outfit. Gene had half-hoped Paul would let him into the dressing room—why the hell he'd hoped that when Paul kept changing clothes in the bathroom even at home, he didn't know, but he was still disappointed. Paul had stopped at a slightly more upscale place than yesterday, to Gene's distress, and sorted through the dresses with an almost disturbing intenseness. In the end, he'd only picked out a flowy, light blue one that probably hung to about mid-calf (Paul hadn't let him see it on), with draped short sleeves, another bra, and another pair of heels. He hadn't gotten any accessories to go along with it.

           But what surprised Gene was that he didn't immediately head for the checkout counter. Instead, he kept lingering in the lingerie and nightwear section. Gene would have tried not to comment, except he'd had nothing to do but follow Paul around the boutique like the beleaguered boyfriend he wasn't.

           "Do you want a nightie?" He picked a gauzy, lacey pink number off the rack. Paul's face contorted.

           "That's a teddy."

           "A what?"

           "A teddy. It snaps up at the crotch. See?" Paul pointed. Gene was more distracted by the garters dangling off the sides, flicking at them.

           "I thought they were all nighties."

           Paul shook his head. He took a short lavender babydoll-style nightgown off the rack, running a hand down the silky material, mouth pursed like he was actually considering it.

           "Do you like this stuff?"

           "Me?" Gene looked up, evasively, from where he'd been tugging at the garters. Too loaded a question for a completely honest response. "I like what's underneath it."

           Paul bit his lip and hung the lingerie back up.

           "You wanna get it?" Not that Gene was against it, but Paul had seemed like he was dead-set on wearing t-shirts and boxers to bed for the entire duration of the curse, or at least as long as Gene shared a bed with him. Last night couldn't have made that much of an impression on him. "Go ahead, if you want."

           "I owe you over a hundred bucks as it is."

           "Pay me back with a peepshow."

           "Oh, screw you." But he picked the nightgown up again anyway. "It's just insurance."

           "Insurance for what?"

           "For you sticking around in case we don't find Carol tonight."

           "You don't need insurance for that. I'm not going anywhere." Gene reached over, tugging at a lock of Paul's hair on impulse. "Not that I'm talking you out of it."

           Paul snorted and pushed his hand away, but he was smiling. Just a little. It shouldn't have been distracting—it shouldn't have been more distracting than the thought of Paul as he was right now, in nothing but a short, spaghetti-strap nightgown—but in an odd way, it was. Paul wasn't much of a crier, and he wasn't much of a smiler, not even for magazines and interviews. But when he did, it gave a warm, almost sweet cast to his features. Gene tried to dismiss the thought; he knew he'd been with prettier women, easier, prettier women, but the fact remained. Paul's smile had edged into a less innocent territory in the half-second Gene had spent musing, anyway.

           "I knew there had to be some way to keep you from looking at the price tags," he said, handing Gene his whole stack of purchases.

--        

           Last night, when Ace had said he had a plan, he had cocaine and booze bubbling around in his strangely-resilient system. When Peter had believed him, he'd been drunk or close to it.

           Now, parked in front of Paul's place after over an hour of driving, Peter had to admit Ace's plan would've been great for getting answers—if anyone had actually been there. Unfortunately, that didn't appear to be the case once they got in the driveway.

           "His car's gone. I don't think anyone's over." Despite himself, Peter got out of the car. Ace reached for the drink holder, like he'd forgotten he hadn't brought a beer for the road, before he cut off the engine and followed him out. They stepped up to Paul's front porch together, ringing the doorbell and knocking on the door.

           The first time Peter had headed over there, the girl had been really quick to open up. Gene, too.  Peter let out a frustrated breath, waiting a few more seconds before knocking harder. Nothing. He could see through the glass on the door that a couple of the lights were on in the house, but that didn't mean much. Paul would leave a light on all day, even in his hotel room.

           No, nobody was here. The cardboard box resting just by the door proved it. Paul's mail, evidently. Peter picked it up, frowning at the lack of address or postage. Hopefully none of the neighbors had found out who he was and dropped off weird fan crap. He set the box down before turning to Ace.

           "Why the hell did I let you talk me into this? It's not getting us anywhere!"

           Ace just shrugged.

           "He's gotta come home sometime."

           "Sometime could be six hours from now! At least I get paid for waiting around on tour!"

           "Petey…"

           Ace's idle nonchalance was something Peter appreciated most of the time, as stark a contrast as it was to Paul and Gene's control freak tendencies. Ace seemed like he coasted through life, with nothing but alcohol, his Les Paul, and weird stories about aliens propelling him. Peter had let himself get dragged into Ace's weird, wild hairs sometimes, but usually they were at least exciting. Standing in front of Paul's house and hoping he'd show back up was about as thrilling as three KISS board meetings in a row.

           "You know what the smart thing would've been, Ace?"

           "Calling Paul today? I tried."

           "No."

           "Calling Bill?"

           "No."

           "Calling Hilsen?"

           "Fuck, no. Calling the cops."

           Ace blinked, resting an elbow and a hand against the door as he leaned against it.

           "The cops? That's pretty fucking extreme."

           "For one of those—I don't know. They come to the house and check on you if your husband's a wife-beater."

           Ace tilted his head.

           "Social workers? You wanna get a social worker for Paul?"

           "No! No, that's not it!"

           "I bet they'd find joints in there. No good. It'd be like what's happening to Keith Richards. One big fucking disaster." Ace ran a hand through his hair. Looking at him, Peter wasn't sure if he'd showered after last night. Not that Ace was fantastic about hygiene, but… shit, come to think of it, he'd even missed a few spots shaving. He and Ace both would try and ease into pieces of the tour routine before it swallowed them up. All the annoying shit, like shaving everything. Like getting haircuts (the hair dye was reserved for a couple days before) and wandering around in heels again for awhile, like some bizarre version of a wrestler's training regimen. But Ace looked a bit unkempt. Had Gene's behavior affected Ace that badly? Strange.

           "Doubt it. Paul doesn't toke up by himself." Peter groaned. "Y'know what? Forget it. Forget it. If no one shows up in another ten minutes, we're just going home."

           "You gotta be patient."

           "I've been patient! I've been over twice! You're the one that hasn't done anything until now! You said you had a plan—"

           "You ain't gonna like the rest of the plan."

           "C'mon, there is no rest of the plan! We're staking out his house and wasting our time, that's all this is!"

           Ace shifted from where he was leaning against the door, standing up fully, and dug a hand in his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. Peter watched, expecting him to—what, did he have a key to Paul's?—show him something important, but instead all he did was pull out a credit card and hold it out in front of Peter.

           "What's this for?"

           "Don't leave home without it. Right, Pete?" Ace laughed a little, then leaned over, wedging the card between the space between the door and the lock. Peter stared.

           "Come the fuck on, that's breaking and entering! We can't pull this shit!"

           Ace slid the card back out, frowning, and reangled it. He kept talking, as affably as ever, as he pushed it back in, bending the thin plastic as he worked it into the gap.

           "We've gotta find out what's going on somehow, right? A P.I. would do the same thing."

           "Yeah, but you're not a fucking P.I.!"

           "Nope." He seemed like he was making headway. The door was actually starting to yield a bit. Christ. "But if you're right about Gene, he's screwed up everything for everybody."

           "You and your ifs. I know I'm right about him! Why do you keep defending—"

           "'Cause it's weird, Peter! Gene wouldn't hurt him like that. There's something we're missing!"

           Peter opened his mouth to answer, stopped only by the sound of a car pulling up to the driveway. A car he recognized as Paul's. The driver cut off the engine, and as soon as she got out, he recognized her, too—the girl from before. Paul's girl, the one Gene had stolen—and then Gene got out of the passenger's side. Peter jerked at Ace's sleeve, and Ace turned around, not bothering to pull the card out from between the door and the slat, expression as bland and mild as ever at the sight, as the girl scrambled out to the front porch like a bat straight out of hell, shouting something very, very strange.

           "You bastards! You're breaking into my fucking house!"

[thoughtsfromouterspace]

Oct 12 Incident

Just another Friday night got sickened by work and glad that tomorrow I don’t have to see my boss.

I was asking my friend if he still up going out tonight, and he said yes, but he needs to go somewhere first.

When the clock ticks on 7pm, I packed my stuff right away and went to his office for a quick stop, he needs a companion to check a room to rent, but we ended up playing card and chatting at his office with his coworker.

Like always, every weekend or Friday nights we went to this Korean restaurant. They play really bad music but sells a cheap price of soju (I know their soju distributor, that’s my go-to when I need soju delivered to home).

October is a bit shitty for me, idk why, usually oct is a weird ass month that I always forget. Everything has been snowballing since I found out my friends got jobs in Adelaide, my friends seems to know what they are doing, my boss getting shittier every day, uuughhh fml.

I was so tipsy at the restaurant, I like the conversation tho it was nice. There’s three of us talking how shit social media is but we cannot live without it, talking about stupid ass social justice warrior, religion, etc.

For some reason, I felt like I wanna go out more, so I decided to go to this bar that I hate because they were playing the same music again and again.

We went to the bar, and hang out at the car park, we drink a bit more, but I didn't drink that much because I don’t feel like it. We got out from the car, I unplugged the charger and aux cable and put the phone in the pocket that located inside my jacket.

I saw ondel-ondel, there’s a person holding a bucket asking for money, and I gave them coins for some reason. I was like “welp I got lots of coins inside my jacket, should give some”

Then we got in the bar, they asked us to buy drinks right away, as soon as we stepped in the bar, they were playing that are you gonna be my girl song, and I recorded on my phone. 

I remember it I put it in my jacket, and then I told my friend that I wanna go to the toilet. I stopped by at this table for a bi, just to say hi to a friend of my boyfriend. then I went to the toilet but its full, so I go back to my friends and took a shoot of the drink. 

I got bored really quick, so I wanna check my phone.

AND IT WASNT IN THE POCKET!!!! I THINK I MIGHT DROP IT!

And then I went looking at the whole path from the entrance to the toilet, I COULDNT FIND IT! In my mind, all I can think is that my phone was really old and so cheap to sell, who the fuck wants to steal it and sell it.

Welp turns out, even at the mid-high class bar, there was pity low sad person who might still want to steal it and sell it. Probably this asshole want to use it to open the table at some bar or something.

Why did I assume this? guess what, this asshole took all of the money from one of my digital wallets. It wasn’t that much, but still WHY?!

I was putting my hopes a bit high that the company can track down the transaction but silly they couldn't give me more info.

I felt like that Joker movie. He kinda lost faith in humanity. So do I. It hits me hard so bad that I have to lose my phone with all of the memories that make the happiest at the time, those moments when I was in Adelaide. All gone now

I try to be positive, maybe this is the way of the universe to tell me that I really have to move on and accept how JERK my country is :’) 

Dear you who took my phone, you are a really sad person, why the fuck did you want to steal a cheap ass phone that you can only use it once, and idk I just don’t get people stealing important stuff from other people. May you get some help.

The universe is fair, may you got all of the karma

[myassgoodbye]

my dad is manipulative & shitty in this incredibly subtle way that makes it all the shittier

like i told him years ago to stop giving my grandma presents from him to give to me on my birthday & Christmas. i don’t have anything to do with him at all, so it just makes sense for him to not give me presents right? especially if i ask him to not do that?

so instead of being a normal-ass human being & respecting my request (especially since he has to pay his mortgage to my grandma & is frequently late so he clearly could use some money) he still gives her cards to give to me. so since i could give 2 shits about what the cards say, but my grandma’s sitting right there & i don’t want to make her feel bad, i open them, immediately put them down without reading them, & go about my day making everyone in the room awkward as hell

because Heaven forbid someone doesn’t think about the supreme lord of the universe for 2 seconds. nope, he’ll just insinuate himself in there & make me out to be the bad guy. i’m sure he tells my grandma ‘i’d still give her presents, mom, but she said she doesn’t want any. i just wish i could get through to her & help her out like when she was a kid.’ so she feels bad for him which gives him enough brownie points to get away with not paying her for the mortgage or paying her back for bailing him out of jail for aggravated DUI. 

i know they must only ever talk about me & my sister b/c they’ve plotted shit out before where he got to meet my brother-in-law when that otherwise wouldn’t have happened. like ‘what a coincidence i’m also at grandma’s house while you’re here!’

and my dad has literally no life. at least, not a life he’d ever tell my grandma or most people about. cuz when i was still going to his house when i was 12 or so, he was literally only at that house when my sister & i were there. you could tell cuz nothing had been moved in the week since we’d last been. and he never talked about what he did at work or any male friends he had that he saw on any kind of normal basis. we met his 21 year old female friend & his married female friend who had kids. and he’d already cheated on my mom twice w/ women who had kids from work. 

and even though he has a fairly good job that pays well enough to live a middle-class life, he can’t pay his cheap mortgage to his own mom. i mean, the house hasn’t been touched at all since the 60s, including decor, so it’s not a huge mortgage. and he has only ever driven shitty cars. he has no hobbies that’d suck up his money. so he’s either doing drugs or has some secret other family. if it somehow came out he was a serial killer, i wouldn’t even be surprised. 

he’s so manipulative, inexplicably able to attract some younger women, has anger issues, is an only child, had emotionally unavailable parents, is a compulsive liar, & tries to establish elaborate fantasies of how things will play out. when he told my mom about his cheating, he laid it out to her like he was gonna live a great new life with his mistress as if it was just peachy & my mom wasn’t right there going WTF. after the divorce was over for a while, he told my sister & i he & my mom were gonna get back together soon. that was all in his head of course cuz he never talked to my mom about it & she certainly wouldn’t have entertained the idea. 

he also seems like he might have a personality disorder besides narcissistic. because he has these modes of being. one time, after he dropped my sister & i off at my mom’s, we were driving somewhere & saw him pulled off on the side of the road & out of his car near the woods. he was picking these wild flowers that were more or less in someone’s yard. my mom pulls over for a second & rolls down the window. i said hi to him & he said hi, but he didn’t act like how you’d act if you just happened to see your kid you just dropped off. he didn’t say why he was there or anything else at all. it’s like he was on autopilot or not in Father mode or something. it was bizarre. he gave my grandma some of those flowers later that day, but you can’t possibly tell me he did that just to get her flowers. he was doing it for some woman. he was probably jazzed about the idea of taking them from someone’s yard. taking something forbidden to give to a secret woman. 

he is so strange that even if you don’t buy into the guesses about his weirdness, you can’t deal with him. that was what made me stop going to his house. i knew there was a part of him i would never understand because it was so beyond what any rational person should do. i knew i couldn’t trust anything he said or did because the bullshit was so mixed in with reality that i could never know what parts were real & which weren’t. which parts were organically true, which were patently false, and which he constructed in the middle ground to make it all seem real. i knew spending time with him would only confuse & enrage me more & more because i’d never know what to believe since he’d keep manipulating me until i could get away for a second to see how ridiculous the lies were.