#so i'm just not gonna say anything out loud

[evie-sturns]

nerve - Matt Sturniolo

summary: matt has the worst attitude all day, and when you two finally get home he has the nerve to ask you to touch him which you obviously deny, making him get himself off infront of you.

contains: sub!matt, male masturbation, slighttt humiliation, teasing, matt with an attitude, pathetic!matt, swearing, fluff.

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7:32pm

matt sits beside me in bed, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt as i scroll through my phone. i'm wearing nothing but a small brandy melville pyjama set. matts favourite.

on a quiet night alone with matt like tonight, we'd usually be pouncing on eachother the first chance we get, but were not.

matt knows he's been acting up all day, with the snarky comments, stubborn demeanour and the most bratty attitude.

matt lets out a small whine, he clears his throat slightly as he rolls over closer to me.

"'m hard.." he mumbles, his lap pressed firmly against my thigh,

"i can tell." i whisper back, putting down my phone and looking over at him.

he buries his flushed face into my shoulder, another strangled noise leaving his lips.

"what is it matt?" i sigh, running a hand through his hair.

"it hurts.." he groans himself, looking up at me

"well how about you sort yourself out in the bathroom yeah?" i speak, staring into his big round eyes,

"h-help myself? but-" he glances down at the tent in his lap, "but youre here and i cant-"

"what am i gonna do about that matt?' i ask, earning another loud whine from him as he desperetly palms himself through the thick fabric of his sweatpants. "i dont think you deserve my tocuh after how much of a brat you've been today?" i follow up.

"but- but i do..." matt protests, "i really- please let me.." he speaks as his face falls with disapointment

"im not rewarding your behaviour matt, so im gonna give you some options yeah?" i whisper, trying to ignore the needy look in his eyes.

"fine!" he groans.

"you can help yourself here, in the bathroom, or just not cum at all yeah? but im not touching you." i speak,

"no!" he tries to protest,

"you dont wanna finish? thats fine by me, your choice baby." i speak,

"but- i do- ugh! fine okay!" he babbles before tugging down his sweatpants,

my eyes widen, not expecting him to actually do something about his situation.

he pants heavily as he tugs down his boxers to his mid thighs,

"dont- dont laugh," he croaks out,

"'not gonna laugh at you hon." i assure him, a smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth,

his pale skin flushes beet red, he looks completley and utterly humiliated.

"okay- okay- just- right.. okay." he rambles,

his brunette hair falls infront of his eyes as he looks down at his lap, gently moving his hand towards his erection.

"okay- just- yeah.. okay shut up.." he whispers,

"im not saying anything!" i giggle,

"yeah- but youre thinkin' it!" he bites back playfully,

he suddenly wraps his long, pale fingers around his girth. his tip is a raw pink, oozing precum.

he purses his lips tight, being sure to not let any noises slip, after all, he didnt wanna look more pathetic, did he?

i see his eyes flutter shut as he squeezes himself once, before gently moving his hand over his tip.

i see his leg twitch slightly,

i stare intensley, causing matt to get even more worked up.

"s-stop- stop lookin' at me-" he croaks out, his voice high pitched and whiny.

"shh," i whispers, pressing a finger to his plump red lips.

he moves his hand under my mouth, "can you please- spit-" he asks, i shake my head,

"told you, 'm not doing anything for you after this big attitude you've built up." i remind him,

his eyebrows knit together with frustration, "you're bein' so mean!" he mutters,

"what was that?" i ask,

"nothing."

i see him spit in his palm, gently running the same hand down his length, one of his fingers tracing the long vein on the side of his cock.

"feels- feels so good." he whimpers,

he gently starts to pump himself, his hand sliding over his tip.

he gnaws on his bottom lip before looking up at me through his eyelashes, i continue to sit on the bed to his side as he lays down against the large pile of silky pillows.

hes dead silent, desperately trying to hold back his noises.

"you're allowed to make noises you know, 'm not judging you,"

"yeah- but its so- embarrassing. i dont want to- i dont know let go like that." he grunts, his eyes fluttering closed.

"its just me hon, ive heard everything before." i assure, him, gently running my long acrylic nales over the soft skin of his lower tummy.

"i- i dont want anyone to hear!" he says, his resolve rapidly crumbling,

“i’m the only one here baby, everyone else is out,” i assure him,

suddenly a loud moan rips out of him, his back arching off the bed.

“there we go, good boy.” i coo, keeping my hand on his lower stomach.

he keeps his fist firmly around his shaft, moving his hand up and down rapidly as his eyebrows pinch together.

“oh fuck-“ he whines, his movements getting faster.

i see him look up at me through narrow eyes, his cheeks completely red.

“so fuckin’ pathetic.” i laugh, giving him a sympathetic smile.

“stop- ‘m not! you said you wouldn’t la-laugh!” he whimpers, desperately tugging at his sensitive skin.

“why do you think i’d do what you want matt? you’ve been so bitchy all day.” i sigh,

“mm! i haven’t!” he protests,

i drag my thumb over his swollen tip, before instantly pulling my hand back.

a loud moan escapes his lips, “ah- ahh.. please do that again!”

i shake my head,

“i need to cum- s-so bad- but- but can’t!” his voice his so high it’s almost amusing, he is just so pathetic.

“mm? can’t cum without my help?” i ask, a teasing tone clear in my voice.

“i- i can! i- i-“ matt’s thighs trembles as he throws his head back.

“just- just say anything!- please- please oh fuck-“ he follows up, his hand reaching out and grabbing my thigh

he digs his fingertips into my thigh as his raw tip dribbles with precum, the clear liquid running down his tip onto his hand.

“anything?” i whisper,

“cum- cum!” he squeals, my one word tipping him over.

strings of white spurt out of him, landing directly on his tummy, which is rising and falling rapidly with his panting.

he stops his movements with his hand, which is now coated in his own release.

“there he is, so so good.” i coo, pressing a kiss to his tip.

a small gasp exits his mouth,

i kitten lick the head of his cock once more, his salty taste present on my tongue before pulling my head away. he groans from overstimulation as his fingers dig into the soft plush skin of my thigh

he’s fully hard again.

“please, please- i’m hard again- you’re gonna touch me this time?”

i shake my head with a small grin, running my hand through his silky hair.

“but-!” he starts but i cut him off.

“no buts, you’ve been such a brat all day,” i start,

“now cmon, pull up your sweats, you’re not cumming again today.” i instruct him, earning a frustrated whine from him as he follows my instructions.

-

@jayz4dayz4 4 @sassysturniolo2008 @nyktoxs-lover r @nathando-64 esgf @starsturns234 @chrissturnsss s @joemamaaa42069 9 9 @sturnthepot t t @zayyluvz z z @realuvrrr r r r @livialifesblog @sturnioloblogs s @riowritesitall l l @raysmayhem-72 @sturnsdoll @obvisturns @stupid4sturniolo @meerkatzthings @witchofthehour r @rosalierenee43 @gabrielle-brun1 @ilovemymannnnnnn n @sturnioloxlver r @buckys-goodgirl @sturniol0s @ilovemymannnnnnnn @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl @luvr4miya a @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney y y @lovingchrissposts @333michelle e @h3arts4harry y @jamiesturniolo o @chrisstopherfilmed @itzdarling @ @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @ev3rgreenxtrees enxtrees @certifiednatelover r r @solarsturniolo @mattsenthusiast t t t t @yomamaslays4lyfe e @peachmelbaesunpostre @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 9 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc c c @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @bitchydragonparadise e @sturni0l0tripletzz z 0 @ratatioulle  @sturnsforlife @mattsonly @justalittle47 7 @sunsetsturniolos s @downbad4reid 

[myjjongie]

۶ৎ SWEET, SWEET, SWEET, KISS ── s. jaeyun

IN WHICH: you've never had your first kiss before. who better to help you out with that problem? your lovely boyfriend jake of course!

PAIRING: bf!jake x gf!fem reader GENRE/WARNINGS: fluff, established relationship, skin ship, kissing WORD COUNT: 1.2k ₊⊹♡ EVIE'S NOTE: this was posted way later than i intended, sorry about that :P but here it is whaaat !!?? also yes its lowercase intended i'm sorry i'm crazy </3 and lastly hope yall like it !! <3

it had been a month since you confessed to jake sim. before he became your boyfriend he was your hallway crush. yes, you may have had mutual friends but he was never really your friend. so when the words “i like you too” came out of his mouth it was a shock. well more so a life altering shock. for once a guy you like finally liked you back. there were both pros and cons on the situation.

pro, you were dating someone who actually liked you back. con? you’ve never been in a relationship… so anything that had to do with a relationship was entirely new to you. that meant holding hands, cuddling, dates, long phone calls, and last but not least… kissing. as a college student the mere thought of not only never being in a relationship but also never having your first kiss was mortifying in a way for you. so for the first month of your relationship, you did everything you could to not kiss jake.

in hindsight it was honestly ridiculous. you avoided kissing your boyfriend for a whole month all cause you didn’t know how to kiss to begin with... anytime you felt jake lean in for a kiss you’d find any excuse to get out of it. from turning away to look at something else, letting out a nervous laugh, or even pretending to check a message on your phone. you always felt bad for avoiding it.

but now here you were sitting on jake’s couch in his apartment. his face was leaning in as he was getting ready to kiss you once again. with no hesitation you stopped him before his lips could touch yours.

“oh have you seen that new movie that came out on netflix?! what was it called again?” you laughed nervously trying to move jake’s focus onto something else.

jake was just too observant for his own good. one month into the relationship and he already knew you like the back of his hand.

“yn you’ve been weird lately.” a pout began to form on his face. his brows also furrowed in worry as well.

“i won’t lie. i’ve noticed anytime i try to reach in for a kiss you’re immediately dismissive of me. did i do something wrong?” now his soft pout deepened into a frown. the hurt expression he had pained you. thinking that jake felt he did something wrong made the feeling in your chest tighten up. jake was never in the wrong, it was you for letting your nerves get the better of you.

“no. no! it’s not like that jake. i just…” taking in a deep breath you let out a sigh. you couldn’t let this continue on any longer. it was now or never to tell jake the truth.

“ugh. just. just promise me you won’t laugh…” your voice faltered a bit as you mustered up the power to spill the truth. your eyes looked into his to see his eyes reflect a serious expression.

“of course.”

biting your lip nervously you finally say the words that you hoped to never share. “i’ve never had my first kiss!” your voice came off a bit loud as you spilled out your confession. you closed your eyes not wanting to see the reaction on jake’s face.

it was silent for a moment. then a small stifle of a laugh was heard in the room. jake was laughing. opening your eyes you immediately opened your mouth to speak.

“you said you wouldn’t laugh!” now you were the one with a frown on your face.

“i know i know. i just. i didn’t think you were gonna say that.” jake could barely form the sentence letting a few laughs out.

“babe is that why you were avoiding my kisses all this time? it’s okay if you haven’t had your first kiss yet. did you think i would judge you for it?” his fingers softly grazed your cheek as he gently tucked some hair behind your ear.

“well no. i just…. i didn’t wanna kiss you badly… is all..” your cheeks let off a soft red color at the creeping embarrassment.

“hey now. that’s why i’m here. if you think you were gonna do badly, you have me to practice with.” jake couldn’t help but finish off his words with a cheeky smile.

you roll your eyes slightly whilst giving him a gentle punch to his arm.

“what? i’m being serious. how about we learn now? is that okay with you? i’m not overstepping am i?”

you found it adorable the minute he backtracked on his statement. jake unconsciously wanting to make you feel comfortable and safe made your stomach do flips. he truly was a perfect boyfriend.

“yes jakey that’s fine.” your voice came off more calmer as your nerves slowly subsided.

without anything more to say, jake changed the way you and him sat on the couch. you were both now sitting there, both your faces in front of each other. his arm rested on the back of the couch while his other hand was gently placed on your knee. you sat there with crossed legs slowly feeling nervous again, you fidgeted with your fingers in your lap.

“okay to start off. don’t think too much about the kiss. i promise you it’s easier said then done. when you’re in the moment you won’t be thinking about it. we’re gonna jump right into it so just try pressing your lips onto mine. okay? and don’t be nervous. it’s just me yn.”

still feeling shy you quickly peck jake’s lips. the contact between you two was no more than 2 seconds or even less than that. you looked up to jake to shyly ask “like that?”

your eyes had a gaze of innocence making jake feel slightly flustered.

“fuck… you’re way too cute yn.” jake murmured under his breath. without a second to spare jake’s lips gently brushed against yours. his lips now locking with yours felt different then the quick peck you gave him mere seconds ago. you froze unsure of what to do next, but jake didn’t rush it. his movements were gentle and attentive. his hand cupped your cheek to help tilt your face a bit. the new angle alone helped melt away the nerves in your body. then finally you got the hang of it, following his lead each movement felt more natural as the time went on.

at a certain point jake parted ways from the kiss. he couldn’t help but enjoy the way you breathed in for air afterwards. he desperately wanted to nibble at your lips but knew it would’ve been too much for you in the moment. instead he was now peppering your face with kisses. your cheeks, forehead, and jawline were not left without a kiss to them. your body shivered at the ticklish feeling of jake’s lips kissing along your jawline. finally stopping, he let out a deep sigh admiring your face before speaking.

“see that wasn’t so bad was it?” jake asked out as his thumb gently brushed against your bottom lip.

your face felt heated from all the small kisses jake gave you afterwards. you shook your head in agreement too tongue tied to find the words to speak. jake let out a soft laugh as he eyed you attentively.

“next time can i teach you how to make out?” jake teased as he fluttered his eye lashes flaunting his puppy eyes.

“hmmm we’ll see…” you replied shyly, a small smile making its way onto your lips.

before being able to even think about the future lessons. jake quickly pecked your lips, giving you that big smile that you always adored.

perm taglist ( open! send a ask to be added ) . . . @ikeulove @leehsngs @nickiminajleftasscheek

©myjjongie 2025

[angelackless]

YOU MAKE ME WANNA MAKE YOU FALL IN LOVE

Dean Winchester x reader

reader has a praise kink and Dean feeds into it.

warnings: 18+, smut

this is my first time writing smut, so i'm so sorry if it's not the best!!

DEAN NOTICED HOW YOU ALWAYS SEEMED TO BLUSH MORE WHEN HE JUST SIMPLY PRAISED YOU, sure you blushed when he called you pretty or gorgeous too, or when he was pleasing you under the table and you had to act like nothing is happening, but the minute he called you a good girl?you were gone.

At first he didn't thought much of it, all girls get a little shy when they're called a good girl, right?but when you managed to blush when he told you that you did a good job, even if it wasn't after he rocked your whole world, he started to do it almost every day, soft words whispered into your ear about how proud he is of you after you did anything, and it was just the start, he wanted to do it in bed too, to see you fall apart not only because of his cock,but because of his words too.

So one day, when it was just the two of you in the bunker, he decided to act on it, to make you feel so good that you can only think about him for the rest of the day.

Dean found you in the library as you sat at the table, crouching over books and underlining things in it "alright, you're taking a break" he walked behind you "you have been in here for atleast a hour"

"I'm fine, i'm not tired" you mumbled not even looking up from the book, Dean shaked his head sighing and closed the book in front of you

"come on, don't you wanna be a good girl for me,hm?" He raised an eyebrow, his hand caressed your arm as he looked down at you, you felt your cheek flush, your breathing hitch and to be honest, you would do anything at this point to get him call you a good girl. You gave a weak nod in response, his hand sneaked up to your neck, giving it a squeeze "words, angel, I need words" he said in a low voice "do you want to be a good girl for me?"

"yes" you managed to say it out loud

"good, good girl" he smirked and grabbed your hand pulling you up from the chair "come, I wanna make sure you know how much I appraciate you being obedient" he pulled you into your shared bedroom guiding you to lay down on the bed.

"You're just gonna lay here and take it, alright?" He undid your pants and pulled it down "oh, wow.. you're even wearing lace?is it my lucky day,baby?" He run his fingers up and down on your inner thigh, getting closer and closer to where you need him the most, but never touching it

"please, Dean" you let out a needy whine to which he chuckled

"please, what angel?do you want me to touch you?stop teasing you and get to the point?" He asked smirking "which one is it?"

"I need you to touch me" you answered looking up at him, your chest rised and fell rapidly, you were getting more and more worked up by every passing second

"just because you asked so nicely" Dean said as he pulled down your panties, he put two of his fingers close to your mouth "suck" he ordered, and your lips wrapped around it, sucking it like it was an entirely different thing. He maintained eye contact with you, while his free hand caressed your side in a soothing manner. After he decided that his fingers now was wet enough, he bringed his hand down to your core, slowly rubbing it

"Fuck, angel you're so wet" he growled, your quiet, needy moans filled the bathroom "beg, beg for more baby, come on, I know you want it, tell me how much you do"

"please Dean, I need to feel you inside me, please" your voice came out shaky, filled with undeniable need, Dean wasted no time inserting two of his fingers inside you, pumping it in a slow pace

"good girl, such a good girl" he smirked "you're so hot angel" he bent down, leaving kisses and hickeys on your neck while he quickened his pace, you were getting louder, and he loved it, he loved how you were gripping onto the bed sheets like that's the only thing keeping you together at the minute, he picked up his pace once again, not stopping for a minute.

"Are you close,baby?hm?" He looked down into your eyes "you're gonna be a good girl and come for me?"

"yes,yes" you nodded your head, feeling yourself getting closer to the edge

"let go for me, angel" he said "be a good girl and come for me" his words was the last thing you needed, you came on his fingers in seconds, he pulled his fingers out of you, and laid down beside you pulling you close to his chest.

He wrapped his arm around you, caressing your back as you calmed down

"i'm so proud of you baby" he kissed your temple "so proud"

[rvlse]

Earthspark Bumblebee x fem reader nsfw where the reader is really sensitive and Bee uses that to his advantage to tease and make reader O multiple times.

(Literally in love with him)

HIII! So, I've been really busy with school for the past few weeks and I am so so sorry this took so long for me to write! I'm not gonna lie, this one kind of stumped me and I lowkey had no idea what to write for a while 😭

Anyways, I really hope you enjoy this, even though it may not be exactly as you imagined <3

(ES BUMBLEBEE X READER)

WORD COUNT: 753

WARNINGS: NSFW, overstimulation

You and Bee did this often. Late at night, while everyone was asleep. The two of you would sneak into the barn, and each time, you’d let Bee frag your circuits out. It was routine. 

Bee gave another deep thrust, and you heard him groan at the feeling. Your own arms were wrapped around his neck, letting him guide tonight’s session as your backstrut pressed against the wooden barn wall.

Bee was a gentlemech, and he knew how overstimulated you could get after just one round, so he always valued your comfort over his own pleasure.

Already, you could feel a ball of ecstasy building up in your tanks. You never lasted long; a curse.

“Bee..” You mumbled into his right audial. You didn’t need to say anything more. He already knew what you wanted. 

He gave you two more hard, deep thrusts, going all the way out and pushing all the way back in, perfectly hitting your G-spot. You let out an almost inaudible whimper, and followed it up with a moan that came straight from your core as Bee finished you off. Your whole frame seemed to shake with pleasure, and you clung onto the yellow mech like a tick. 

A few moments passed. It was nice and quiet now, just you and Bee, holding onto each other in peace.

Or so you thought.

Suddenly, Bumblebee grabbed onto your waist. You didn’t think anything of it at first, but then the mech lifted you, bringing you to rest on a stack of hay that was almost level with Bee’s chest.

“Uhm- Bee?” You questioned him. You trusted him, but you were still curious as to what he had in mind at the moment.

He didn’t reply to you, though, and instead brought his digits to your chest to push your upper body down so that you were laying on your backstruts. 

Confused, you just laid there and waited… until you felt a wet, hot, slimy structure prod at your entrance. 

Oh, slag. 

Panicked, you went to sit up, only to be pushed back down again. You thought he knew that you couldn’t handle more than one round. He definitely knew. There was no way he wouldn't. Unless.. He was obviously doing this on purpose. 

“B-Bee, you can’t- I’ll-” You started.

“I know,” Was all he replied with, before he stuck his glossa back in your still dripping valve.

Immediately overwhelmed with pleasure, you let out a rather loud moan. You slapped a servo over your intake, worried you might accidentally wake the Malto family. Whatever Bee was doing, it felt good… but you didn't know if you could handle it.

You stifled another whimper as Bee continued to abuse your overly-sensitive hole, and you swore you heard him mumble a “good girl” against your metal.

Being as delicate as you were, it didn't take long for you to feel another knot in your tank.

Bumblebee already knew you were close. Your legs would start to shiver each time you were… it was a response that Bee had caught onto over time.

The yellow mech dipped his glossa into your heat again, this time moving his wet muscle in the shape of an O inside you, and that’s all it took to get you to your second overload that night.

You almost screamed when it hit you, the sensations shaking you once again violently from helm to pede. 

After the shock, it was like you were immobilized. You lay there, panting, digits gripping the scratchy hay bales underneath you.

Lifting your helm a bit to watch your lover, you realized his servo was wrapped around his spike, getting himself off as he finished pleasing you. It was hot to watch. Bee’s faceplates were contorted in ecstasy, his optics low as he panted through his own release. 

You were so, so overwhelmed right now. Clearly, Bee was up to something, but you didn’t know if you had another overload in you. You were already way too sore.

“Too.. too much..” you whispered, tired and completely worn out.

You felt a servo embrace your faceplate, and then a soft kiss was placed on your forehelm. 

“I know,” Bee murmured in your audials, “that’s why tomorrow, I’ll be a little gentler with you. Get you to three overloads, yeah?” The yellow mech teased, bringing a flustered smile to your derma. Internally, you panicked. You didn’t even know if you would be able to walk tomorrow, much less go for three more rounds.

Wish yourself luck.

THANK YOU FOR READING! ENJOY YOUR DAY/NIGHT!

[jainydoe]

Simulacrum: Bird-Man meets Delinquent

a/n: finally finished the johanna/emmrich fic lmao i'm fucking exhausted.

Click here to read on ao3!

Summary:

She's destined for greatness and he's destined for goodness. Or, a study of what Johanna and Emmrich's relationship may have looked like in their youth.

Things are just like they were before, except this time she doesn’t have her room with her things that are hers and instead has a roommate ( Eve ) with medical-grade dandruff who farts in her sleep. She believes college is the time she’ll truly make the leap towards murder in the first degree. Father would be proud. Especially with her creativity. She’d spend the semester collecting every snowflake and fleck of dried scalp shaken and blown through their “shared space” and she’d stuff them in a bag. Something cheap and suffocating, like whatever fabric Eve chafes her fat snatch with. She’d pull it tight over her sleeping head, ignoring as she nervously passes gas through her slow and burning death. And once her thin, clammy, freezing limbs just finally gave up and kicked it, she would shake the bits all over her, a real earthy type of parmesan, some final seasoning, and see if the stench of her reeking corpse would outmatch the scent of her pre-mortem. And if anyone asked about precious Eve, she’d say she was well-done. Finally ready. A treat to live with. 

Father had warned that she’d have to keep her head down at the academy. Curls tight. Legs tighter. Before he was sent away, he’d spend each morning braiding her hair. Doing his best to separate her nest into three, thick, barely even but enough to go on strands, reminding her to keep it together. Be the eye in the storm. No one likes a messy girl who laughs too loud and plays too rough. It’s the first day of classes and he’s been gone for years, but she braids a tiny little strand by the nape of her neck for him. A reminder. A bridle. Something to tug when she feels like sticking out a leg and seeing how hard the mighty among her can fall. And there are those that are mighty among her. Eight a.m. Introductory Anatomy proves that. She recognizes faces from galas. Debutante balls. Girls and boys she hasn’t seen since the patriarch’s imprisonment - weirdly around the time the invitations stopped rolling in. She knows they recognize her. The Hezenkoss’ kin. At the first pair of pretty blue eyes staring her way, beginning a whisper, she wants to jam her thumbs into her retinas, scooping the back and sucking on the jammy residue, daring any and everyone to try their hand at Johanne’s only and greatest spawn. She thinks the way her lip must curl does the trick. Blue Eyes looks away, focused on her quill. Good. Be afraid. Be weakened. Be nothing. 

Someone, however, does not avert their gaze. He’s a prick, naturally, for being so tall and choosing one of the two seats available in the front row. It almost makes her laugh, the way he’s folded himself into this writing desk. Like a dodo bird in a fish bowl. What doesn’t make her laugh is how bird-like he truly is. His gaze isn’t accusatory, or clouded by anything other than true, unadulterated interest. A goodie two-shoes, of course. Virgin, no doubt. This place will eat him alive, if he doesn’t self-cannibalize first. There’s only one seat left and it’s next to him. Naturally. She’s not even late but these people are awful, arriving fifteen minutes ahead of schedule to get their perfect seating for their perfect rumps, all to support their perfect report cards. It’s day one and she’s gonna self-cannibalize. Bird-Man extends a hand. 

“Emmrich Volkarin.”

She nods. “Johanna.”

“That’s a lovely name. Cherubic.” 

That makes her turn her head. “Are you trying to fuck me?”

“What?”

“Why would you say that unless you were?”

“Um, I was trying to be-”

“What?” She smiles at him. She knows how her smile looks. Especially when she widens her eyes. Something possessed. Something manic. Red alert. Danger. Evacuate now. 

He may be uncomfortable, but he’s not frightened. Interesting. “Kind.” He opens his satchel, pulling out a scroll of parchment as their professor meanders into the classroom. “You looked like you could use some kindness.”

It turns out people are not kind to one Emmrich Volkarin. Not in the way he is. He offers girls spare quills and whispers answers to confused faces during exams. He beams in that vacant way and ignores the returned whispers about his battered uniform - used. When they get more cruel, though, in the way he should’ve expected after flaunting how much he pre-studied and pre-prepared and pre-became teacher’s pet, all in a room of try-hards and daddy-issues - he should’ve expected it but clearly didn’t and she watches this veneer of niceness crackle into desperation and it’s delicious. It’s gut wrenching. It makes her actually feel. Watching him swallow during the midterm, blinking back tears at a comment on how he’s probably blowing Professor Welch and sucking out all the knowledge he has to offer. Maybe she’s been looking for an excuse. But more than that, she’s looking for a friend. She might find one in the boy who’s kind and unafraid. Stupid in that way. But smart in the ways that are useful. She turns to the whisper, rises from her front-of-the-room chair and kicks her in the nose. A jackrabbit heel to her carefully-bred nose, and it’s bleeding out beautifully. This is a lesson in anatomy. Take notes. She grabs the girl’s hair, red and whorish, and promises she’ll revive her corpse one day and bring it to her family’s estate. Show them even princesses can mold and rot. Professor Welch is yanking her out of class before she can finish the job, but she’s ripped out some strands of that bloody red hair. Decides to keep it as a trophy. No. She’ll give it to the boy. Something nice to remember her by. She’ll be expelled for this, if not thrown into some cell for a while. Good riddance. College was for posers and idiots. People who needed the comfort of a cage. Those kinds of animals terrified her. Terrified Dad, too. Probably why he did what he did. And now look, a creature-caged, blah blah blah, the metaphor is an eye roll. It’s not something she thinks about much. 

She’s waiting outside the dean’s office for over an hour when he comes running from the end of the corridor. His legs are too long and his spirit is too free. He ought to braid his hair. Even just a strand. He’s taking deep breaths by the time he gets to her, but she doubts it’s from the run. 

“Why’d you attack Veronica?”

“She’s a cunt, why else?”

He places his bag on the ground, gently, (the tattered, used, ugly one) and takes a careful seat on the bench next to her. “There are plenty of those. Why this one?”

She snorts. “That may be the rudest thing I’ve ever heard you say.” The small grin that blooms on him is befitting. Secretive and minacious. “Veronica’s a twit. She’d make a better final rites assistant than Mourn Watcher.”

“It takes a special heart to assist final rites.” They sit in silence. Then he whispers, “She’s better off just moving to Orlais . Better fit for her, uh, particular intellect.”

She feels like she’s glittering. “Why’d you come here, Volkarin?”

He looks at her. Eyes green and grey and a little bit sad. Dry moss that makes his hair all the more pitch and skin all the more pearly-moondrop. He really is quite pretty. Like roadkill. Like a wilting lily. Like something preserved just for her. “What you did was awful. Truly. I’ll never get the image or the sounds of that poor girl screaming out of my head.” He grins. “Thanks.” With that, he grabs his bag and leaves, tossing a final wave over his shoulder.  If nothing else, she’s glad she got the few weeks of this place for him. To watch this loser blossom into someone crackling with energy. Primed. Understanding that everyone around is wishing for his downfall and he doesn’t have to stand for it. In that moment, they are equals. They are alike. Replicas. She’s buzzing and wants to ruin Veronica all over again. Just so he can smile at her like that.

“Miss Hezenkoss?”

The dean is a fat bastard, sure, but he’s also a fat cat who doesn’t much care for the aristocracy. Maybe it’s why he offers her a lemon cookie and asks how her father’s doing. “You’d have to ask him. I hear the guards at Aeonar are quite hospitable.” 

At that, his face softens. “You haven’t visited?”

“Grandmother wasn’t too keen on the prospect.”

“Speaking of, you know I’ll have to tell her about your little outburst , yes?”

“Yup.”

“And while I’m sure she’ll offer to donate a wing to your dormitory or open up some sort of scholarship for wayward girls, I’m wondering what you’ll do for the college.” 

She can bullshit an answer. Doesn’t want to. But figures somewhere between a lie and uncaring jab rests the truth. “I’ll make friends and be great one day.”

“Some might consider those opposing ideals. Which matters more to you?”

She doesn’t see Dean Merriweather anymore. She sees her father. Collar stained with blood she can’t recall the source of and eyes cold and deep with mysteries she knows she’ll never solve. Never wants to. Never hopes to. She answers for him. “Greatness, of course.”

“Good.”

She’s required to get a campus job (to Help Out!) and see the school therapist biweekly. The good news is once Eve’s Mama and Papa heard their baby angel sweetie-pie was rooming with a delinquent, they had her transferred to an apartment off-campus for her wellbeing and mental health. Good thing, too. Johanna had finally found the perfect, chafing bag. 

The second half of the semester means lab work and no one’s gonna partner with Little Miss Anger Management. Or with her new pet. She’s surprised that A) they let her back in the class and B) Volkarin isn’t nearly as put off by the whole ordeal as he should be. If anything, he welcomes her to their table with a touch of warmth that wasn’t there before. He gives her a quill. She says she has one.

“That one’s just for you. Consider it a token of my gratitude.” It’s red. A griffon feather. She knows he can’t afford it. Shouldn’t be able to. Not on a campus job salary. “I got it as payment for a tutoring session to some upper-crust teenager. You don’t need to look so surprised.”

At that, she’s almost flustered. But not as much as he is. “Thank you.” 

He ruffles in pride and hands her a scalpel. “Fifty silver we get to the corpus callosum before the other teams.”

She looks at him, toothy and primed, itching to slice. This will always be him. She knows it. It’s an envy that stretches in her throat, choking. She doesn’t think she’ll ever feel as much joy in her life as he does in a passing minute. She hates him for it. She admires him for it. But she mostly just hates him. “Fifty silver Donovan confuses the frontal lobe for the cerebellum.” His laugh is ugly, which is a relief. She won’t acknowledge he’s handsome in this light. The ash-struck age of his canvas scrubs, buttoned along the shoulders in a flattering taper, make him all the more saturated. And his leathers, worn and used but oiled and cared for were exemplary of his character. Someone who gave a shit, no matter the condition or circumstances. She looked down at her boots, scuffed and muddied, the ink splotches along her cuffs, and refused to admit he made her doubtful. On edge. Electric. They finish the lab before the rest of the class and he asks her if she wants to study in the library. He knows a spot that no one ever visits. 

“Are you trying to fuck me?”

This time, he doesn’t answer. 

Spring break used to mean tagging along on business trips to Orlais. Sipping teenie coffees on a rooftop in Treviso. Making eyes at some Crow initiate who didn’t know what he was getting himself into. She’d come back to campus refreshed and jazzed, wearing something new and hot and ready to regale some of the girls in class about the Mysterious Marco and his casino exploits. His fast hands. His faster sprint. His endurance. His stamina. His accent. His inheritance. How it felt fucking on a bed of poker chips. This year she’s on campus and suicidal. 

“Of course you’re still here.” There are worse jobs than being a lab tech. Cleaning flasks and updating logs is mindless work, but some poor bastard has to clean dishes, so. She doesn’t complain as much as she wants. She should’ve been more surprised to stroll into her shift on Monday morning to find Volkarin posted in front of something bubbling, the room faintly filling with the stench of sulfur and mead. 

“Johanna! Hello! I’m a bit shocked you’re not away for the holiday.” He’s happy to see her. He doesn’t think to hide that sort of thing. She turns before he can see her grin, but she’s sure he can sense it. Like he has some barometer for joy. Perhaps they sell them in those discount stores with the cheap pottery and pilling sweaters. Does he like that sort of thing? Would he want to go with her and laugh at the kind of crap people accumulate? Pick out something hideous for each other and point at the peons who actually think they look good? No. He wouldn’t laugh. Probably. But there’s a part of him that would enjoy it. Being able to look down, for a change. She switches gears. “Have you ever even been on a proper holiday, Volkarin?”

He crosses his arms and leans back, as if thinking about it will change the answer. “Afraid not. But I’ve always wanted to visit far off places. Arlathan. Or Tevinter, maybe!” 

“Dream bigger.” She makes a show of dropping the test tube she was about to clean, pointing a bony finger at his chest. “You and I are going out. Come along.”

“My reagent hasn’t catalyzed the reaction yet. I still have way too much substrate.”

“It’s never gonna react, idiot. Elfroot’s a base, not an acid. We’re losing daylight.”

She yanks his elbow and enjoys how his barstool goes clattering. He doesn’t resist even a bit or at all. He’s a damsel. A petal in the wind. Hers to catch and squish for preservation. She has an inward giggle over the scene they’ve left, shattered glass and abandoned experiments. Crime-like. Not that there will be anyone to solve their mystery. They’d never quite get it, anyhow. 

It’s no Treviso, but it’ll do. He’s not used to what good coffee is supposed to taste like and it shows. “This is delicious! I didn’t know coffee could be thick like this. Even when I’ve tried making something new in the dining hall, it never quite ends up this tasty! Do you usually take it with cream?” 

There’s a bit of it clinging to a patch of facial hair he didn’t quite catch while shaving. “No. I don’t. But you’re not used to espresso, so we’re starting you off with a variation on a hot chocolate.”

“Is that what this is?”

“You’re quicker than they give you credit for.”

He smiles down at his drink, thumb grazing the rim. “I should hope. I’d hate to disappoint.”

“I’m sure.” She takes the moment to lean in, placing a hand on the crook of his elbow. He’s delightfully surprised yet un-blushed. “Be honest. Are you really as much of a wide-eyed lamb as you pretend to be?”

He considers her, then rolls his gaze to their right, eyes landing on a barista with rusty hair and charming pimples. The kind you can pull off when you’re that handsome. Red feels the stare and looks up, completely missing Johanna and locked on Emmrich with something that says My-shift-ends-at-five-but-I-can-get-off-sooner-if-it-means-getting-you-off. In a display of casual disinterest, he waves a few fingers then turns back to Johanna, letting the boy linger in their missed opportunity. “I’m no scoundrel. Yet.” He looks at her lips. Determined. Unafraid. Resigned. Hopeful. Bated. “But someday I will be.” There’s no sun, not really, in Nevarra. But she pretends there is. It’s easy with him. Their day is spent reclined and lively, trading secrets and tips and theories and recommendations, all under the guise of scholarly advancement. The next morning, when he arrives at his lab station, there’s a black box with a big, green bow tied tightly. Inside is a straight razor and some imported shaving cream. Best start practicing now for your scoundrel years. 

“The mustache suits you.” 

He touches a hand to it. “You think so?”

“Oh, yes. Gives you a foxy grin. Very fetching.” Her shift is over and she’s leaned over his cauldron, warm and damp from the berry steam. 

He takes a step further. “Your hair looks nice. Up.” He says it like it’s an unfortunate fact of the matter. Which is true. She knows he wants her. It’s not a secret. But this will be. She grabs the back of his head, curls her talons into the silk of his hair and sinks into him, teeth unyielding and tongue unforgiving. His breath is soft and high pitched. As if he’d never done this before. 

“That wasn’t your first kiss, was it?”

“No.” 

“You’re not a virgin, are you?”

“N-” he looks away quickly. She’s quicker.

“You’re a bad liar.”

“I’ve read a lot.”

“Shocking.”

“I know what to do.”

“Impressive.”

“You could try believing me.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Her eyes widen as he hoists her onto the tabletop, hands on her thighs. He wears a ring on his marriage finger. Delusionally. “Do you really want your first time to be in this fucking laboratory?”

“What, are you gonna take me on a bed of roses? Light me any candles?” It’s almost spiteful when he says it, but she’s comforted by the fact he knows her well enough. 

“This is me doing you a solid. As a friend.”

He smiles as he lowers onto his stool, beginning to unzip her trousers. “Good. I’d hate for you to get the wrong idea.” His breath is hot on her as he kisses the striped cotton of her underwear. They’re unsexy but clean. Comfortable and worn. He looks at them as if they were glowing. Closes his eyes as he leans forward to kiss them. She doesn’t let herself breathe in the underlying fear she’d let on how very much she’d been looking forward to this. Perhaps her stilled breath is proof enough. Things get hotter and wetter without the help of the steaming potion he’s cast a stasis on. She asks, mid-moan, “How’d you figure out that charm? Keeping the sample perfect?”

He looks up from between her, rosy. “I’d tell you, but I’m already doing you a favor.”

He doesn’t fuck her that afternoon. Instead, he leans over her as she’s breathless and seeing black stars and whispers the incantation he discovered. He doesn’t help her clean up. She can see he debates it, though. She watches as their eyes meet and something within him hardens. Knowing she’d think less of him for offering a moment of warmth. So he grins that grin, says thanks and tosses a wave over his shoulder. Cheeky. Tempting. It’s the moment she realizes she might not have the upper hand. 

“What do you want more than anything?”

“To join the Mourn Watch.”

“Boring.” 

He huffs a laugh, staring up at her. He’s made a home of her lap, resting his head there whenever allowed. A lap cat, demanding and too easy to oblige. She combs his hair and runs a finger up the bridge of his nose, tracking its ridges and path. Mapping. “If I tell you a secret, can you keep it?”

“Who have I to tell,” she asks, earnestly.

At that, he rolls up and is preening, pulling a pin from his inner coat pocket. “The Lich Society sent me a letter.” He lets her hold it, clearly itching to snatch it back and stare at it, himself. “Apparently they’ve never reached out to a first year, before.”

“We’re basically second years.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m the youngest ever. I think the Wyvern Club caught wind. Van Markham actually stopped me in the dining hall to compliment my cufflinks. ” Cufflinks she bought him. “Isn’t that incredible?”

“I bought you those cufflinks.”

His grin grows warmer. “Thank you, again.” He lays back on her lap, looking up at her with shimmer eyes and an aching brow. “If I joined the Wyverns, would you come, too? I could have a word with Reese.”

“Oh, it’s Reese now, is it?” 

“Well, Van Markham’s a bit of a mouthful.”

“You’re not even in the club, isn’t it a little gauche to be vying for my entry?”

He’s uncomfortable and embarrassed, judging by how quickly his complexion rouges, but he holds her gaze. “I just.” He doesn’t lift his head. That feels significant. “Things are only. Things are.” There’s something ooey-gooey tight and great at the top of her chest at the way he grasps and fumbles, words slipping out of his grasp before he can finish his thought. Mr. Wyvern Lich Club Wunderkind, a fool at her feet. She kisses the tips of her fingers, the index and middle, a wonderful mirror of them both. He, pointing, examining, useful, an “in-fact” sort of guy, and her. Abrasive and fucking. Bigger. She kisses them both and lays them on his lips, lets her fingers run along his chapped, fleshy pink. “Things aren’t enjoyable without you. Life isn’t fun.”

It’s enough to make her cough out a smile. She won’t join the Wyvern Club. It’s a playpen for the docile elite. Those that relish in the comfortability of their station, no interest in becoming more. For that , she’ll reach a hand into his shirt pocket, thumbing the pin from the Lich Society. 

“You tell the mysterious bone people I’ll be in-touch.”

He’s sated and hungry all at once. They rest easy in the understanding they will always be identical. 

He gets an invitation to the Wyvern Club’s Summer Pudding Social and he takes Johanna. She parks herself in a chaise by the pool and ignores the way Missy and Toddy and Quinn whisper amongst themselves about her summer in rehab.

Her winter in the hospital.

Her lifetime of institutions awaiting.

She sips her champagne and whispers a curse, something that’ll take effect next time Missy bleeds. And it won’t stop. She won’t die. But she’ll wish she could. And Quinn. Poor Quinn with her poor grandmother, dead and buried. It’ll be a shame when she starts seeing her everywhere. Maybe she’ll drop out. Maybe she’ll go insane and start smearing shit on her vanity. Maybe Johanna will see her in the winter. She doesn’t curse Toddy. Toddy’s cursed enough, with that nose. She feels a hand on her shoulder. 

“Are you having an alright time?” He’s wearing a new ring. It fits, perfectly. 

“Swimming.”

“I told Reese and the others about your work in Holt’s class this semester. They said they’d love to hear more about it in the smoking room later, if you’re interested?”

It’s impressive of him. To turn a leper, like her, into someone mysterious. A mad genius, she’s sure he’s painted her. A girl too focused on her craft to care about things like smiling and white lies. She wishes she were her, if just to let him fantasize a bit longer. Instead, she puts on a sad grin, peering up through her sunnies and shaking her glass. “I’m afraid I’m already engaged. I need to see how many of these it takes before I can stand these people.” She gives in. “Maybe another time.”

He pretends she’s telling the truth and kisses her cheek. “Don’t meddle too much with the other dates. If anyone at this party is bald within the week, I’m holding you personally responsible.” She laughs as he walks away, motioning that he’s keeping his eyes on her. She makes him look dangerous and sweet all at once. Gentle enough to tame the snarling beast of her moods, but there’s something in there wild that can speak her language. She makes him roguish. She makes him ready. He keeps her sedated. 

He laughs when he says it, but is hurt all the same. “You don’t need to mock me, you know. It’s actually hurtful when you do. I know you think you’re being funny, but-”

“I’m not mocking you.”

His eyebrows lower but he’s twitching. “You mean. You mean you actually wanted this? To do this.”

“I thought the roses and candles conveyed the message pretty clearly.”

He’s not twitching anymore. “You didn’t have to. It-” He stares at the ceiling. “It would’ve been special, either way. Without the dramatics.”

She knows that. But tonight, she’s made a pact with herself. As an exercise, she’ll be a vision. An angel. His wide-eyed lamb. “I want you to feel special.” It’s true. Because he may one day be a lich. His name will live on without her. But in him, in this memory, a playful, spiteful, hateful and adoring version of his dreams, she will be immortalized. Johanna Hezenkoss, the Woman to Take Down Emmrich Volkarin. She bottles up every second of the evening. His moonlit chest. The hands covering his face as his voice rips apart her name. His thighs are shaking and he’s smelling her hair and neck. He tells her how madly he loves her. How he always will. He holds her hand when he comes. She grips it right back. She’s the one who doesn’t let go. 

They join the Mourn Watch and he proposes. She tells him to wear the ring in her stead. But they kiss in the mausoleum and it’s symbolic. 

She’s not invited to Friday night drinks or Saturday night cocktail parties. It gives her more time to work and gives him enough space to schmooze. She doesn’t think of it for what it really is: his time to stretch his legs and her opportunity to play years of catch-up.

When he’s promoted, there are gaggles rubbing elbows, grasping for flecks of glitter-gold to sprinkle from his laugh onto their cheeks. Something that’ll better them. Cure the their chronic ineptitude. When she’s promoted, they spell her name wrong on her office door. 

Her father dies the same year she’s fired. There’s no correlation.

“So you’ll have me follow you into things, but won’t leave with me when I’m not wanted anymore?”

It’s four in the morning and they’ve been having this argument since sundown. His head is in his hands and she’s ripping him apart. “I told you countless times your proposal was gonna get refused. When you started the experiments, I reminded you of our protocols. You stopped toeing the line a long time ago. So long you’re at an entirely different one.”

“Are you gonna say the finish line?”

“I wasn’t.”

“‘Cause you’d be wrong.” She tears her hair from its ties, bunching it up again and pacing. “This is just the beginning. I’m not gonna let some turnkeys decide my fate.”

“You sound like your father.”

The air is stale and silent. He dodges the plaque she’s thrown just barely. It’s his award for being an exceptional Watcher. She’ll let herself appreciate that it broke later. “You’re just like the rest of them. Satisfied with your mediocrity. Undaring and too caring. I can’t fucking stew in this, this nest any more. I’m gonna, I’m,” there’s not enough air in the room and it’s his fault. “You’re not gonna come with me, are you.”

His eyes are wide and there are tear tracks. “Go where, honey? Where do you want me to go?” 

He doesn’t understand and that’s what kills her. She tries to remember the last time they held hands. Probably that morning. She takes in every inch of their home, mapping. Memorizing. It’ll be a place she visits when things are awful or wonderful. Somewhere she can close her eyes and be in. And he’ll be there, too. But not him now. Not this titan of industry. Pseudo-trailblazer and eye-rolling prodigy. He’ll sit in this apartment as the boy he was, annoying and green. Eager and meek. When he was hers. 

“It can’t be.”

“But what else would one expect from Nevarra’s most eminent meddler?”

She wants to scream that he wouldn’t recognize her from the start. She’ll grab something stifling and take his breath away. Carve him up and kick his nose and sob. But then she notices the harpy on his shoulder and wants to laugh so hard she pukes. It’s like she’s a wisp of Johanna in the beta stage of development, except she’s young and dumb and looks at Emmrich like he’s hung. It’s as amusing as it is hurtful. At least her name is fucking stupid.

She knows a lifetime of him continuing to look down on her from his pedestal should hurt worse than taking over her father's former cell. It's a sick shock to find she's a bit comforted by the way things shake out. Thankfully, there's no one to confide in. Not anymore.

“Nice set up you got here, Volkarin. You really know how to make a place dusty and goddamn kitschy.” She notices the blood red feather on his desk. He must've looted her office. How humiliating, to have one's sentimentality exposed so overtly. She's sure he did it on purpose. Makes it easier to remember falling in love with him. To picture this man in that apartment when they were young. How things might've changed. He still lives there, you know. She checked. He's always been a sucker for a tomb.  

“That’s funny, coming from the woman who just had to have that toad teapot from that market by the Rivaini coast.”

“You loved that teapot.”

His arms are crossed and he’s on the opposite side of the room, by the fire. When he crosses to her, he whispers, “I still have that teapot.”

She tries not to let herself care about that. “Really? You’re telling me you don’t have some Orlesian porcelain in whatever stuffed up hole you drag yourself back to after hours of puffing yourself up for your pupils? That’s right, I know you have pupils now. Pervert.”

“Of course I have Orlesian porcelain.” His shoulders are tense and he’s staring at his shoes. He’s so much older and so much wiser. It’s awful. “I still use the shaving kit you gave me. Every day.”

His girl bursts in and the moment is gone. But it was there. Watching their burgeoning courtship is a price paid every waking moment. She’s a jungle cat who was always bound to be shot, caged and stared at for the wonder of her vanquishment. She learns, now, the poacher’s name turned out to be Rook. But Emmrich - he’s a bird who will always fly back in. Able to leave wherever and whenever. A songbird tweeting, his nest balancing on the bars of her cell. He looks at Rook, toothy and primed, and the joy of it chokes Johanna's throat. She’s sure she’ll find Rook an absolute treat to live with. She wonders if Emmrich will thank her on the day she splits the bitch in two. Maybe, then, they’ll be on the same page again. Some part of him must want it, after all. They’re replicas. 

[ask-sakky-bear]

Mini rant, to get my thoughts out of my head so i can stop being annoyed.

I very much hate being told what to do. Especially if it is done in a very not constructive, demanding, and angry way. An incident with my partner happened earlier, and i guess it just rubbed me th wrong way.

For context, i needed to shower today, mostly because it's been two days since i washed my hair and that needed to be done. One of our friends was also coming over to watch my partner play through kingdom hearts, so i wanted to do that before she got there. I, however, have awful executive dysfunction amd autistic tendencies. To explain how that affected my current situation, you need to understand th thought process behind me putting off taking a shower for around 6 hours:

First off, the kitchen was a god damn WRECK. There have been dishes in th sink piling up for about two days (some of which needed to be handwashed), crumbs everywhere, th dishwasher needed to be rotated, the stove was filthy, etc. So, instead of taking a shower in th 30 minutes i had, I cleaned th kitchen. Queue our friend arriving; i decided to chat for a bit, around an hour or so, which led to the next hurdle.

My partner took a bath two days ago and there was a TON of soap scum from bubbles. This was because our tub drain trap gets clogged easily and my partner has like 2 feet of hair, so obviously it wouldn't drain. It was DISGUSTING and i wasn't going to clean it for them (their excuse was that my corner shower caddy had fallen off and dumped my stuff everywhere, and thus it was "in the way" 🙄🙄), but i asked them if they could do so, so i could take a shower. They did so with absolutely no fuss, after i had moved my shower stuff, of course.

Come to find out, they did NOT clean it worth shit. The drain was still clogged so i had to wipe it out with paper towels, which honestly makes me want to puke every fucking time, but i did it anyway. The soap scum was still around the drain and it was grey and disgusting so i didn't want to touch it - honestly, the whole tub needs to be deep cleaned, but i really didn't want to have to do that JUST to take a shower. And about this time, dinner was ready, so i sat down forna slice of pizza.

And of course, because the state of th tub made my brain ick at th thought of standing on it, even just on th shower mat, made me not want to take a shower. So i do what i usually do when i don't want to do things: i dissociate and get on tiktok.

Now it's about 9 o clock, and our friend pipes up and goes "hey, don't you still have to take a shower?". I start making my neurotypical ehhhhhh noise because yes, she's right, i already put this off twice tonight and i know i'm giving in to th executive dysfunction and th 'tism tantrum but i need to work myself up to it. In fact, when she mentioned it, it actually did spur my brain to start to get up, because, again, she's right, i did say i wanted to shower.

HOWEVER.

Not even two seconds into my drawn out waffling/whining, my partner, WITHOUT EVEN LOOKING AWAY FROM TH TV, shouts at me to go take a shower. Like a CHILD. But i don't say anything, i just go into th bathroom and get myself ready to shower, ignoring them scolding me about how i said i was gonna shower earlier before our friend arrived but didn't (and remember, i spent that time cleaning th kitchen because i knew they would complain about it not being cleaned before company arrived)

AND THIS ASSHOLE, in response to our friend saying she didn't want to get me in trouble and that it wasn't a super big deal to her if i had showered or not, replies that they are OFFENDED that i didn't shower earlier, knowing we would have a guest, and that it was a southern hospitality thing.

FUCK that. I am not a child, stop acting like my mother. I am so fucking irritated over this. I am th one currently paying rent, i am ALLOWING YOU TO LIVE HERE. I AM PUTTING UP WITH THIS GODDAMN "SITUATIONSHIP" BULLSHIT so that you aren't homeless and try to kill yourself again.

And sure, i can talk to them about this, but i am not about to waste two hours of a one sided arguement about how yes, i KNOW i said i was going to shower, i KNOW i was putting it off, i am AWARE of th fact that i was procrastinating. But i am not going to sit here and explain to you my thought process while you get offended because i said it was fine that you didn't clean th tub all th way, or how i should have asked you to clean up th kitchen (you literally do th dishes every fucking time except th handwash ones and you could literally SEE how gross it was getting), or this or that or whatever fucking excuse you want to use to make yourself seem like th victim here.

And yes, i KNOW you do not mean to do it, you are just as emotionally stunted as i am and yeah sure you lived on your own for like three years but you do not know how to actually clean for SHIT because your mother is a southern bell who wouldn't dare make her sons clean up or eventually just gave up actually trying to get you to clean when she asked you to, but god DAMN i am still pissed off. I can BE pissed off about this without having to have an entire discussion about this with you.

UGH i am too nice of a fucking person to deal with this. I'm just gonna hole up in bed and go to sleep at this point.

[seventh-district]

again and again i find myself lamenting that audio roleplay isn't taken more seriously by some people. like yeah, they often have a romantic element, and by nature they usually directly involve/address the listener- and i totally get that those things aren't to everyone's taste. no art or entertainment is universally appealing, and that's okay! but.. it still makes me a lil sad that the "cringe" reputation of asmr/audio rp precedes it. there's a whole lot of talent and creativity being poured into these audios by so many people that i feel goes unrecognized and/or disrespected simply due to the medium that the stories are being told through.

[scarlettfevor]

Decided to start watching teen wolf because why not, and I'm literally only 3 episodes in and I already suspect that Scott is probably going to be my favorite, and I know that there's a thriving shipping scene for this show so I took a quick peak at the top ships on ao3 and it......Derek and Stilies...? I think that once I get over his kinda cringey early 2010's humor I could grow to like Stilies, but Derek? To me he just seems like every other sad bad boy in every twilight/Buffy-inspired teen show from the 2000's - 2010's, there is 0 chance I'll actually like him, so it's no surprise really that he seems to be fairly popular.

[nedlittle]

[alt]

2x21 "crisis" really is a perfect episode

[leelaromana]

"ten was out of character in the girl in the fireplace" No he wasnt hes a cheater ❤

[nyckie]

listening to an anti-vaxxer acquaintance on the phone going off about how "we're all going to die, why fight it?" tryna tell my dad to just deny any sort of medical treatments ever

[dianetastesmetal]

Jesus fuck, I hate dog people so much

[kameonerd566]

.

[alittlebitofrainbyyourside]

feeling extremely emo about the incredibly emo poetry I used to write.

[dreamsb0u]

I'm gonna be honest, I really haven't been doing well recently and I know it's probably been pretty obvious but I just felt like I should say something. I don't think I'll be super active for a few weeks

[the-cinnamon-snail]

.