#their responses are fucking hilarious and pathetic

[llycaons]

ugh I can't believe parks and rec is over 10 years old

[inmyheaddd]

loving you forever can’t be wrong - rafe cameron x reader

summary: your ex has been non stop texting you for weeks, and you tell rafe. then he leaves as you fall asleep to go ‘handle some things’ warnings: mild language, sweet!rafe (to you atleast!!), mentions of cuts and blood wc: 1.5k

another notification came from your ex, insulting you in one paragraph, then begging for you back in the next. 

as rafe sat on the couch next to you typing away at his phone, you pulled your bottom lip through your teeth anxiously as you thought on what to do about the situation, ultimately deciding on speaking up.

you cleared your throat —a nervous habit, before calling out. “rafe?”

he hummed lowly in response, signaling he was listening as his eyes stayed glued to his phone.

swallowing thickly before speaking, you said,“there’s this guy who keeps bothering me— well, it’s my ex, and i keep blocking him, but he keeps finding ways to text me.” 

you would’ve found the way his head snapped up so quickly at the mention of a guy, more so your ex, in any other situation hilarious. but nothing really felt funny right now.

“what the fuck?” his attention was fully on you now, as that angry glint in his eyes reserved for his fights began to reappear, along with that oh so familiar clench of his jaw. “bothering you?”

“yeah like, texting me and stuff and calling m—“ 

he clicked his tounge, visibly frustrated as he clenched and unclenched his fists. “nah, what? let me see this shit.” he motioned for you to come closer, and you placed your phone in his hand as you sat next to him, bringing one knee to your chest and hugging it. 

as he read through the messages, you told him the multiple stories on how many times you’ve blocked this guy, how many accounts he’s made, and how you never even respond to him. 

his tounge poked the inside of his cheek as he tried to keep his anger in check, shaking his head and scoffing in disbelief, even laughing at the guy. 

“the fuck?” he muttered under his breath as he scrolled through the messages, seeing just how far they went back. “he’s been texting you for weeks? how pathetic is this fucker, huh?”

you simply pursed your lips in response, shrugging as rafes eyes flickered between yours and the phone.

his eyes slightly narrowed, then came the question, “why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

you weren’t really too sure, if you were being honest. you truly believed the blocking would’ve put him to a stop, but the messages only kept getting more and more aggressive. 

“well, i thought that he would stop, and, well, i don’t know…” you trailed off, your voice getting quieter as your eyes flickered to the phone, then back to rafe. “he just didn’t.” 

his jaw ticked as he heard the way your voice slightly quivered, and you could’ve sworn his eyes almost softened, but who were you kidding? this was rafe cameron you were dealing with. 

“listen, next time, you tell me first fucking thing when anyone’s bothering you, alright?”

he pointed a finger at you as to further get his point across, and you let go of your knee, sighing as you did so. 

“rafe i’m fine, i promise.” your voice involuntarily pitched higher towards the end of the sentence, coming across as a whiny child more so than the grown person you were. 

“alright?”

you opened your mouth to speak, then shut it again as he raised his eyebrows at you expectantly, his finger still pointed. you nodded, mumbling a small, “yeah, alright.” 

there wasn’t any room to argue. 

he mumbled under his breath as he resumed scrolling through the messages, a thick vein becoming prominent in his neck. “there won’t be a fucking next time, after i’m done with this sick fuck.”

“what?” 

he didn’t take his eyes off the phone, then he smiled, and the only way to describe that smile was wicked. “nothin’, baby.”

—

you were drifting in and out of sleep off watching shitty reality tv, cuddled up in your fuzzy blanket. you faintly felt rafe come up to you and press a kiss to your shoulder before he got up and left, causing you to stir awake. 

when you were fully awake, and realised he had left, you texted him countlessly, worrying where he was. he didn’t respond until 2 hours later with ‘handling things’ and ‘open the door baby’. 

you instantly hurried to the door, anticipating what you were going to see behind it. your breath hitched as you opened the door anyways, as rafe stood infront of you. his chest rising and falling heavily, his knuckles bloodied, and a slight bruise forming on his jaw — it was nothing you hadn’t seen before from him, but your heart still dropped every time. 

you couldn’t manage anything but a whisper as you brought a hand to your mouth, “oh my god, rafe.” 

he side stepped past you, running a hand through his hair as he kicked off his shoes. standing there, he looked like the complete opposite of you, with his disheveled clothes and sweaty skin. 

your hair was freshly blow dried after the shower you took to calm yourself down, still smelling like your shampoo, and your face was in a complete frown.

you knew what happened, but that didn’t stop you from asking anyway as you stepped towards him. “what did you do?”

“nothin,” he said, with that same smile from earlier as he brought a hand up, stroking your hair as he looked down at you. “you’re real pretty, you know that?” 

you sighed annoyedly as your lips took on a slight pout, but you leaned into his touch nonetheless. “rafe.” 

“what?” he replied in the same tone as you, you’d say he was mocking you if you didn’t know any better. 

he murmured, his voice dropping lower as he stepped even closer, your head slightly craning up. “baby, c’mon, don’t look at me like that.”

clearly you weren’t doing a very good job at hiding how worried you were. 

“what if you got hurt? or- or if he called the cops or something? you need to be careful, rafe.”

you tried not to worry, to just let him do his thing, and be all laid back, but it was so hard when he came back to you all bruised and bloody and acted like nothing happened. 

he let out a low chuckle, but there was no humor behind it— more like he was trying to make light of the situation.

“the cops can’t do shit. i know what im doing.” when you didn’t respond, only sighing as you broke eye contact and looked at the floor, he clicked his tounge, pulling you in close and wrapping his arms around your waist. 

you couldn’t wipe the pout off your face, but you moved your arms to wrap around his torso. 

“ ‘m sorry,” he mumbled into your hair as he gently swayed you side to side. “won’t do it again.“ 

you laid your head on his chest. you knew that he did this every single time, but a small part of you wanted to believe it anyways. 

“promise?” you asked.

“promise.” 

you lifted your head up from his chest to look at him, and you couldn’t help the tiny smile that formed on your lips. 

he chuckled at just how fast your mood changed, running a hand up and down your arm. “that happy, huh?” 

you didn’t answer, only looking down as you smile widened. when you looked down, you saw his other hand with its beat up knuckles, and remembered the whole reason you were worried in the first place. 

you unwrapped your arms from him, carefully picking up his hand with the both of yours, wary not to touch any of the cuts.“oh my god,” you muttered, “we need to get that fixed up.”

—

rafe sat on the closed toilet lid, as you stood in between his legs. you chewed on your bottom lip in concentration as you wiped down his cuts on his knuckles with an alchohol wipe. 

“you know, if you didn’t get into a fight, we wouldn’t have to do this right now.” you murmured, your eyes flitting between his hands and his eyes. 

he clicked his tongue, “he was askin’ for it, talking to my girl like that.” 

you said nothing, only looking at him briefly, as you moved to his other hand, which was evidently worse than the one you had just done. he took a sharp intake of breath as you gently wiped his over cuts, turning his head to the side and clenching his jaw. then he blew out a breath, almost like a whistle.

you immediately stopped your actions, placing your hands back to your side as you went to get a better look at his face. “i’m sorry, are you okay?”  

“yeah,” he breathed out as he looked at you,  and he nodded forward slightly, motioning for you to continue. “jus’ keep doing your thing baby.” 

you managed a small smile in response, resuming but attempting to be even more careful. 

after a couple beats of silence, you spoke. “you better not split these open, and have us sitting here again.” 

you tried to sound serious and warning as you put a band aid on some of the bigger cuts, but rafe only let out a breathy chuckle at your words.

“you sure you don’t like doin’ this?” 

“that’s…” you bit back a smile and avoided eye contact, but you knew rafe was somewhat grinning. “that’s not the point.” you were finally done now, and your hands fell back to your sides.  

“yeah, you’re funny, alright.” he let out another one of his laughs before he stood up, wrapping an arm lazily around your shoulders as he steered you both back to your room. 

[meowjunjun]

Sub virgin degradee Felix drabble <3

I haven’t written in so long… this is gonna be so bad but I literally cannot get the thought of this out of my head 🫠. Still send me asks though LOL

Includes: afab reader, small cock felix, degradation, felix is a virgin, slight overstimulation, mommy kink, felix doesn’t last long

—————————————————-

I seriously can’t get the thought of virgin Felix having a small dick out of my head. It’s so cute and little, and always hard. He’s such a loser, can’t help but get an erection when he’s near you. Your scent, your striking looks, your seductive voice. He’s so insecure about how small he is but god does he get off when you’re oh so mean to him about it. Since he’s never done anything with a girl, he never would’ve known he would enjoyed being belittled by you. But he can’t deny that his tiny cock twitches and leaks whenever you make him feel like he’s nothing to you but a dirty mutt.

“It’s so small, I can barely even fit my whole hand around it.. what do you even expect me to do with this thing?” You mutter, lazily jacking him off with your thumb and index finger as he squirms and writhes on the bed beneath you. “A-ah- I’m sorry m’.. hah… so small…m’ sorry mommy.. please”

He’s so sensitive, he’s thrashing around and constantly trying to close his legs, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. “Aww, you’re gonna cry?” You grip his aching cock tightly, which is almost painful for him. “Is this stupid virgin gonna start crying for me?” You scoff, smiling.

As soon as your grip tightens on his pathetic excuse of a dick, he’s full on sobbing from the stimulation. “Mmfh!! St-stop, m’ so sensitive.. no more.. please mommy, stop.. too much” he cries between choked whines. “Oh, you want me to stop? You haven’t even said the safe word, though. Besides, you’re fucking into my hand like a bitch in heat. “

He just nods his head in response, too embarrassed to form a real response, continuing to rut his hips up towards your fingers as he leaks. Suddenly, you speed up, focusing the stimulation on his tiny red tip. “W-wait.. I- m’ gonna cum, can’t hold it.. too much.. st-stop..” he’s grabbing your hand, not wanting to cum without your permission, but you smack it away. “It’s only been a few minutes, that’s hilarious honestly. You cum when I say you can, got that you stupid whore?”

“No, I- mommy please I can’t I… I’m- c-cumming” he wails as cum leaks out of his fat cock, coating your hand and his stomach. He’s spasming and sobbing, thighs shaking and tears rolling down his freckled cheeks as he’s cumming harder than his own hand has ever made him before. As soon as he’s able to collect himself, he’s profusely apologizing. “Mommy, I’m sorry I- it was too much, I’ll make it up to you I swear. Please, I- I swear I’ll be good just please don’t-“

“Shut up and save your apologies, slut. How about I use you until im satisfied and until you know better than to disobey me, yeah?”

[azzibuckets]

Paper Rings [Part 10/10 | Paige Bueckers]

paige bueckers x fem!reader

summary: you and paige find your way back to each other and it’s better than you could’ve even imagined

a/n: this is the last and final part of paper rings!! if you’re still here thank you sm for reading, it genuinely means so much

word count: 1k

masterlist w/ all parts

“Leave my girl alone.” The entire team laughed, and Paige pulled you closer to her.

“I swear, she was so angsty for you that it was borderline pathetic. Every day she’d accidentally walk by the pool deck and watch your games.”

Paige whined, burying her head into your neck as her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. You giggled, finding the entire thing hilarious. “Don’t listen to them,” Paige begged under her breath.

“Why? You’re so fucking adorable P.” You smoothed out her hair as you shot a quick wink of approval to KK, who nodded at you with a smirk on her face. “Besides, I already knew you came to watch my games.”

The blonde’s head shot up, and she looked at you suspiciously. “How? I thought I was so smooth!”

“You were! I never even noticed.” You fixed the collar of her shirt. “Until one of my friend’s moms came and mentioned you. Said you would tell everyone how amazing I was.” You batted your eyelashes at Paige, and her face turned an even brighter shade of red.

“Why is everyone out for me?” Paige groaned. You only laughed in response, pressing a quick kiss to her hairline.

When conversation waned and the team started scattering, Paige pulled you aside. “Can we get out of here?” she whispered. “I love the girls but I want you jus’ to myself now.” You blushed and nodded, following her out of Nika’s hotel room.

You guys walked along the quiet hall of the hotel in silence. You peeked at Paige, who seemed deep in thought. “Penny for your thoughts?” you asked, nudging her pinky with your own.

Paige interlaced her fingers among yours. “Nothing,” she said, a small smile on her face. “Just thinking about how happy I am with you.”

You tried to fight back a grin. “You’re so in love with me,” you joked, swinging your hands.

Paige stopped, turning to face you. “I am,” she said quietly, her eyes searching yours. Your heart throbbed at the sight in front of you. The soft look in Paige’s eyes combined with the slight pout of her lips was enough to make your knees weak.

“You know just how to make the girls swoon,” you teased, pushing her chest lightly.

“You’re the only girl I wanna swoon,” Paige breathed, pulling you in. She kissed your forehead, then your eyelids, making her way down to the slant of your cheekbones and then the tip of your nose.

“Paige,” you groaned when she kissed the corner of your mouth, dodging you when you tried to connect your lips.

“What?” she asked innocently.

You glared at her. “Kiss me.”

She chuckled, placing a long kiss on your mouth. You savored the feeling of her pillowy lips, the dampness of her tongue, the little moans escaping her mouth. Her teeth tugged on your bottom lip, making you shiver.

“Yes, officer, I see two young women engaging in a very scandalous and salacious affair in public, in sight for young and innocent children to see and be corrupted by.”

Paige huffed in annoyance when you pulled away to flip off Aubrey and Aaliyah, both of them laughing like coyotes. “You guys have a bedroom!” Aubrey yelled. “Use it!”

You rolled your eyes, but tugged towards Paige towards your room. “I feel kinda gross,” you said, taking off your shoes in the doorway. “I’m gonna take a shower.”

“A shower sounds like a great idea,” Paige grinned, following you into the bathroom. “Can we?” She looked at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes.

“You don’t have to beg,” you chuckled. “I would love to take a shower with my sexy, beautiful, amazing girlfriend.”

Paige’s eyes brightened at the last word. “I could get used to that,” she remarked, starting to take off her jacket.

The water was hot, and you relaxed under the pressure of the water streaming out from the shower head. Paige admired you for a second, your jaw tilted upward and your eyes closed as you basked in the warmth, water droplets sliding sensually down your hair and your jaw and your neck. When you opened your eyes, she stepped towards you. “You’re so gorgeous,” she husked before kissing you slowly.

This was the most intimate you’d ever been with Paige, you thought. Sex was nice, you thought, mind blowing with Paige, even. But somehow, this shower was the least sexual thing you’d ever done, and the feeling was unbeaten - Paige gently rubbing shampoo into your hair as she pressed kisses on your shoulders, Paige’s hands leisurely exploring your body as she spread soap over your skin, Pauge holding you as you both stood under the water, your cheek resting on her shoulder and her nose buried in your hair.

When you stepped out of the shower, Paige wrapped a towel around your hair, messily scrunching it up as you giggled. She wrapped a second towel around your body, patting you dry. “Do you wanna do my skincare for me?” you asked, and Paige nodded enthusiastically. Her arms wrapped around your waist and she set you on the counter. Standing between your legs, she carefully opened all of your products.

“Serum first,” you instructed. Paige looked at the little bottle strangely. “Just squeeze the dropper, babe,” you laughed.

Following your directions, she carefully placed a few drops on your face before gently rubbing it in. Her eyebrows furrowed and her tongue poked out slightly in concentration, and you cooed at how focused she was on making sure she was doing your skincare right.

She rubbed in your toner, making sure to do it in light circles, then applied your moisturizer. When she was done, she wiped her hands, then cradled your face. “You are perfect,” she told you.

“Stop it.” You looked down, heart bursting at the seams from all the affection that Paige was showing you.

“I’m serious. God really did spend extra time with you.” She brushed a strand of hair out of your face. “Don’t ever forget how beautiful you are.”

You wrapped your legs tighter around her waist. “How can I? You’re always gonna be there to remind me.”

Paige’s lips split into a grin. “Damn right I am.” Then she pulled you into yet another kiss, which you didn’t complain about. You could never get tired of tasting Paige’s lips.

[tongue-like-a-razor]

AHHHH CONGRATS ON 5K- YOU DESERVE ALL OF THEM AND SO SO MUCH MORE (I’m absolutely obsessed with your account it makes me so happy)

If you’re still taking requests could I have a bbf!Jake one where they’re at a bar again and this time someone really creepy is hitting on baby Bradshaw and even though she’s trying to get away from him, he won’t leave her alone. Cue super Jake to the rescue (and he’s pissed)

I hope this is okay and if not, don’t worry about it :)

THANK YOU SO MUCH AND HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY <333

OOOH I LOVE ME SOME PROTECTIVE JAKE! And thank you sm for your kind words, lovely <3

I'm gonna say this drabble is an extension of Part 4 of BBF but really can probably be read on its own. Here we go!

5k Weekend Bash Drabbles

Brother's Best Friend - N-O Spells No

Jake Seresin x Reader

“C’mon, sweetheart, let me buy you a drink,” says the man with the slicked-back hair and smarmy leer for a third time, taking a seat at your table on the patio.

His friends at a neighboring table guffaw, apparently finding their friend’s persistent approach hilarious. You find it extremely disrespectful. “No, thanks,” you respond, again.

The man’s grin broadens as though your rejection spurs him on. He slides his chair in closer and leans in to whisper something in your ear. But, before he has a chance to speak, you decide that you’ve had enough and rise from your seat. You’d rather forfeit your table than put up with any more of this bullshit.

You start for the door to go into the bar, but the man leaps up to follow you. He catches up with you just as you’re about to enter and takes you by the arm, spinning you around to face him. “You don’t know what you’re missing, honey,” he mutters and his voice makes your skin crawl.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of Jake as he’s about to place his drink order at the counter. The disturbance near the front door has made him glance in your direction and his expression darkens when he sees you. He immediately steps away from the bar, forgetting all about the drinks he just paid for, and marches determinedly toward the door.

Before you could tell the creep to watch out, Jake is outside, curling his arm around your waist to relocate you so that he could turn back and grab a hold of the man’s shirt, ramming him into the wall, back first. “Who the fuck are you?” he growls at the – now cowering – man.

“I’m a friend, I’m a friend!” the man exclaims in alarm, his hands shooting up to show that he’s not looking for a fight.

You give the man a disgusted scowl when he looks over at you pleadingly, hoping that you’ll corroborate his statement. Jake glances over his shoulder at you too. “This true?” he asks. “You know him?”

You’re silent for a moment, wondering what Jake would do if you told him the truth. You really don’t want him getting banned from the Hard Deck for starting a fight on your behalf.

But Jake takes your lack of a response as a no and pulls on the man’s collar just to slam him back into the wall again. The man, to your great satisfaction, looks like he’s about to cry. “She didn’t tell me she had a boyfriend!” the man cries.

Jake grimaces aggressively. “Did she tell you to fuck off?” he asks dangerously.

The man gulps anxiously. “If she’d just told me she was with somebody” –

“What the fuck does that matter?” Jake shoves the man into the wall for a third time and the latter whimpers pathetically. “No is a full fucking sentence.”

“Okay, Jake, that’s enough,” you say, putting your hand on his arm. “I think he got the idea.”

Jake glances down at you with a heavy sigh and then back at the snivelling man. Then, he lowers his head and mutters in a low, intimidating voice, “You come near her again, I’m not gonna be this nice.”

The man nods vehemently and, the moment Jake lets go of him, he slips away, ditching his friends – who, admittedly, hadn’t even come to his aid – as they scramble to collect their things before following him out.

Jake turns to look at you worriedly. “Are you okay?” he asks, taking a step toward you.

You nod. “Yeah, thanks for coming to my rescue,” you reply. “Although, I totally could’ve taken him.”

Jake draws his lips together to keep from smiling; he’s not ready to find the humor in the situation quite yet. “You shouldn’t have had to,” he remarks.

You shrug and meet his gaze. “I’m glad you were here.”

Jake nods and then takes your shoulder and pulls you into an embrace. “Me too,” he says.

You close your eyes, allowing yourself a moment to enjoy the hug because there isn’t often an excuse to lean in while Jake Seresin just holds you. In fact, you can’t think if a single time in recent history when this type of scenario has taken place. Suddenly, you’re not too mad about the creep that almost ruined your day.

“Where’s my brother?” you ask once the two of you separate.

Jake sighs with a grin and shakes his head. “He took off.”

“What? With that chick he just met?”

Jake nods sheepishly, as though he’s somehow to blame for Bradley’s promiscuity. You grin at him. “Perfect,” you say. “Now, we have plenty of time to talk about the thing.”

Jake cringes and lets out a defeated groan.

5k Celly

[angeliconstell]

Deadly Prank - Danny Johnson x F! Reader

Words: 2.96 K

Setting: It's Halloween night and you're home alone when you get a prank call from your roommate Danny.

Warnings: NSFW, Minors do not interact! Fingering (f! receiving), some knife play, tit play, vaginal sex, smut.

A/N: This is probably going to be my first time actually posting a fanfic on here. It's going to be kinda slow, not going straight into the NSFW. I've been writing for awhile, just never got around to actually posting. Anyways, sorry for the steaming, hot sin and I'm open to requests!

"It's Halloween night! C'mon, you're supposed to be dressing up and going partying!" Your friend was almost mocking you through the phone. You had decided not to go to the Halloween party that night due to your ex possibly being there. He caused enough shit for you and you already made an agreement with him that you would never be around him again. Not really an agreement, but more of a promise because he wouldn't dare even agree with you on boundaries. "I don't want to go. You already know why." Your voice was sharp when speaking, you wanted to get your opinion across your friends thick skull.

"Find then, puss. I'll make sure to send you some pics from the party." And with a click, it was silent again, she had hung up on you yet again out of not getting her way. You settled back on the couch, flicking through the various channels on the television. Most of the channels were playing horror movies and classic slasher films since it was Halloween day. Besides Hallmark, playing the cheesey romance Halloween romcoms that they always played. With an annoyed sigh, you tossed the remote onto the floor, settling on watching Rob Zombie's version of Halloween. A wonderful version of the classic.

Everything seemed perfect for a moment, you, a good movie, a soft blanket, and popcorn. The smaller moments of peace are what made you happy when your roommates weren't around. All of that was instantly ruined when your phone started that annoying ass buzzing again. You almost put it on mute until you caught the glimpse of your friends name from earlier and her profile picture popping up. She was calling again? Usually when she got pissy, she wouldn't talk to you again. Maybe this time it was an actual apology instead of a "fuck you, I hate you" from her.

"What do you want?" You answered after making her wait until the last second before the call went straight to voicemail. Because if she was going to be petty, so were you. You turned the phone on speaker, resting it against your chest as you turned your attention to the TV.

Nothing. Silence.

The call was just silent. Maybe just a butt dial? "Hey! You there, asshole!" You yelled into the phone, knowing that when you did that, you pissed her off. Still nothing, but in some sort of response, heavy breathing. It sounded like the breathing was coming from one of those cheap, plastic Halloween masks that scare actors would wear at scare attractions. This was probably a prank. It was probably one of the guys your friend hooked up with messing around with you. "Very funny. Call me when-" You were cut off by a wet sound from the other side of the call.

It sounded like someone had spilled water on the floor, or your friend had booty called you while she was puking from being shit faced drunk. "She's was a pretty girl, y'know?" A gruff, deeper voice at the other end of the phone wasn't what you were expecting. "It's a shame she was out by herself. Right outside your house too. How pathetic."

You quickly hung up. You didn't even bother hearing the rest. Whoever was pulling this joke on you was absolutely sick if they thought this was hilarious. You could still feel the lingering, darker thoughts at the back of your mind. "What if she was in danger and I just left her?", you had though to yourself. You quickly pushed the thought as you turned your attention back to the TV. Surely it was a joke. A damned sick joke. It all felt so surreal, until your phone buzzed again with the call.

"Who ever the fuck you are, stop! This joke isn't funny!" You answered, your anger and fear making you more hostile than needed. "Woah, woah. Settle down, baby girl. Just wanted to chat." The voice on the phone paused for a moment. "You hang up against and I'll gut you like a god damn pig, got it?" His words were immediate ice down you spine. You were tempted to hang up, but in a way, you were actually fearing for your life.

"You were the last person your little friend called. You denied her proposal to come with her to that little college frat Halloween party. You could've saved her, but she died alone." The voice had started to chuckle, low, deep, taunting you with the underlying guilt you now had. He was right, but in a sense of him trying to manipulate into feeling guilty. "She was alone. Just like...you." The lights cut out, everything blended in with the darkness of the night besides the faint blue glow of your phone screen lighting your face.

All was silent except for the panicked breathing that was now coming from you. You were praying to whatever god that existed that it was just a shitty prank from your roommates. "I recommend you hide, sweetheart."

Click.

He was gone and you were left alone in the mind numbing silence that followed. You looked around to check if any of the blinds were open, thankfully, they were not. So whoever was outside, couldn't see you. You darted upstairs, your hands trembling on the railing as you practically had to drag yourself upstairs. You were so panicked that you just wanted to collapse and cry. Tears burned in your eyes. The cool air was harsh on your lungs, leaving a burning effect. You paused as you heard something. Was that footsteps? Fucking Christ, that was footsteps. You let out a panicked scream as you heard the heavy steps crashing across your apartment to where you were on the stairs. It was so dark you couldn't see.

You ran away like a frantic, blind bat. Grasping at anything and everything you could to lead your way to your bedroom. That was your safe place, you need to get to the fire exit in your room to climb out of your apartment. The footsteps behind you stomped and moved like a mad man. You glanced over your shoulder just in time to see the figure slide and clash into the wall. He was moving so fast that he was slamming into everything to get to you.

The mask.

God dammit, you knew that mask. Your roommate, Danny, was wearing it for Halloween. He was still chasing after you like a chicken with it's head cut off and you still felt like you were about to either pass out or shit your pants in fear. Your breathing came out in a panting force as you ran up the stairs and down the hall to your room, slamming the door. It was too late, Danny had grabbed the door frame, you accidentally smashing his fingers in the door. He let out a pained grunt, throwing the door open. The sound was deafening when the door slammed up against the wall.

Welp, that was going to be an issue with the landlord, a hole in the wall. But did that matter to you or Danny right now? Not at all. You were too panicked by the prank going too far. Danny grabbed a fistful of your shirt, lifting you and tossing you to the bed like you were a toy. As you hit the bed, you let out a harsh grunt as the pain shot through your body. "Fuck you, Danny. Really!?" You yelled out, still panting hard. You felt like you wanted to cry from the amount of fear he had caused you. You actually thought you were going to die.

Danny chuckled deeply, pulling off his mask. He seemed, probably as equally as much as you were, scared. "Jesus Christ. I got scared cause I thought you'd call the cops on me." You both ended up laughing hysterically from the fear on both sides, both his face and your's covered in sweat. "You're a cute little thing when you run like that." Danny teased, one of his gloved hands gripping your legs. That was him. Flirting just because. In all honesty though, your relationship with him was rather unique. You'd go weeks without contact and as soon as he got back, he would be railing you until you saw stars.

Once the adrenaline from the fear slowly fades into a dull thrum in your skull, you finally allowed yourself to calm down for a second. You still wanted to slap the hell you of Danny for scaring you so badly. "Sorry, baby." He finally said, his hands lifting one of your legs up where he could slowly rub the muscles in your thighs. "Is a rub supposed to be compensation for scaring the piss out of me?"  You said as you laid your head back against the bed, closing your eyes and letting him work out the knots in your muscles. Not that you were complaining, it did feel nice. "Maybe. I could do more?" Danny questioned on return, it was more of a asking permission question than it was just a normal rhetorical one.

You just nodded, wanting to see where this was going to lead to. You could already somewhat guess where it was going to go, it started with the dull, burning ache that was in your core. The only cure to that? Danny. Danny smirked at your silent answer, but that wasn't going to satisfy. He wanted to hear you say it. "No, no, baby girl. I want you to say it. Say for me, 'yes, Danny'." You rolled your eyes at his response, a snort of laughter coming from you. "Yes, Danny. We can do more." And with your works, a grin split across Danny's face. He already had it dead set in his mind that he was going to ruin you. Inside and out. He gripped your ankle, lifting your leg up into the air so your legs would remain open wide just enough where he could see the outlines of your folds through your shorts.

"Do as a say. Sit still. And remember, scream for me." Danny pulled one of his gloves off, his calloused hands moving down the smooth curves of your thigh, inching closer to your core. You were already squirming as his fingers teased you, your hips bucking outwards. "I said, sit still." Danny's other hand came down, pushing your hips down into the mattress, locking you in place. "Maybe I don't want to. Maybe I just want you to fucking fill me already." You shot back. It was your first time being a brat with him, not listening to his words. Danny glared down at you, a mix of anger and surprise at your sudden behavior.

"Then maybe-" Danny paused as he reached under the robe of his costume he was still using, gripping the cool, wooden handle of his pocket knife. He brought it out, waving it in front of your face as it came open with a click. "You'll learn how." Danny held the handle of the knife in his mouth before using his hands to push your legs apart. He kept his gaze on you the entire time as he took the knife back out of his mouth. Danny hooked the thin fabric of your pajama shorts and panties with the knife. With one quick movement, it was cut open, and you were left exposed to his burning gaze and the cool air. "Such a pretty little pussy." Danny cooed to you, almost like he was simply trying to own you with his words.

You could already feel yourself tremble with anticipation, the burning in your core getting stronger by the minute. It was such a burning, hot, almost painful feeling between your hips. The familiar coiling in your stomach was taking place. Danny's fingers were already sliding between and spreading a part your wet folds. "Danny, please." God, you were already begging like a little bitch and he hadn't even done anything to you yet. Danny's dark eyes flicked up to your's, meeting your pleading gaze. "Begging already?" He wasn't going to make you wait, he was already growing desperate enough when his erection was so tight in his pants that it was almost painful for him. Danny's fingers delved into your pussy, eliciting a shuddered moan from your lips. He used the thickness of his fingers to his advantage, using one of them to ring around the outside of your entrance to stretch it out before adding a second finger. You felt the sting of him stretching you out, preparing yourself so it wasn't so hard to take his cock later on.

With each curl, pump, thrust of his fingers, it brought out a new wave of wetness out of you that coated your slit along with Danny's fingers. "God damn, you're fucking perfect. Y'know that?" Danny brought his fingers out, making you release a small whimper from your quivering lips. Your inner walls now clenched at the sudden emptiness. Danny kept a steel grip on your thigh to keep you from closing your legs while his other hand was busy unbuttoning his pants. Your legs parted more, raising up your aching entrance up to Danny. "Remember what I said at the beginning?" Danny asked as he fumbled with his pants with shaking hands, eventually his erection sprang out, bobbing between your legs.

"You said... listen to you, sit still." You knew there was something else you couldn't quite remember. You were too focused on his throbbing member that rested against the hood of your clit, Danny rubbing it against you slowly enough where the precum beading at the top would slicken you up. "That's not all, doll. I said to do as I said, sit still-" Danny paused as he gripped his cock, tapping the pink, swollen head against your clit, making you moan out. "And scream for me." With that, Danny lined himself up, sliding his cock into your aching pussy inch by agonizing inch. You were going to scream alright, you already wanted to scream as he bottomed out inside you, his cock head kissing up against your insides. Your moans were already music to his ears, providing him with enough determination where he wanted to fuck you senseless. So he did. Danny let out a deep growl with each long, hard, deep thrust, slowing building up speed. The jolt of electric pleasure caused your eyes to roll back and flutter shut, making you hiss through your teeth. The sounds of your pussy taking in every single inch of Danny's cock so well filled the room.

"Fuck, Danny! Fucking hell!" You mewled and whimpered out, your limbs hooking around Danny to hold on for dear life. Danny had to keep himself from yelling right along with you, his main focus was your own pleasure. With a quick pull, Danny yanked up your shirt, revealing your breasts up to him. Your nipples grew hard at the sudden exposure to the cool air. Danny's mouth immediately found your nipples, sucking on them like a starved man. This added on more and more of that intense coil burning heavily inside you, causing you to desperately to crave release. The feeling of his lips and tongue working over your breasts, leaving dark red bruises across your skin, combined with his cock pumping into you with reckless abandon, was already growing to be too much. You were so desperate, crying out to Danny as an orgasm wrecked your body, your moans growing louder with growls. The electric pleasure shot straight up through your body, felt like it was bouncing from your core, to your hips, and up to your breasts.

"Good girl, fucking beautiful girl." He wasn't done quite yet, Danny was going to make sure you were going to be ruined by the time he was done with you. A quivering, wet puddle of nerves. His hands were all over you, clenching at your ass, pulling them apart in desperation to try to get even deeper inside you, up to your breasts where he moved his mouth away. Danny panted heavily with each of his rough thrusts into your wet slit, a string of saliva connecting his mouth from your nipple. "Fuck, oh fuck. Fuck, you have great tits, great body, great everything, baby. Just a bit longer." The praises fell and moans of pleasure slipped out of his mouth, his face buried between your tits as he mumbled soft words of praises to you. Danny could already feel his cock start to throb, indicating that he was about to either paint your insides or will have to pull out of you.

But Jesus fuck you felt good.

Your pussy was so warm, so wet, it felt like it was almost begging for Danny to just cum right there inside you. He let out desperate, whining sounds as the friction of your inner walls clamped right around Danny's cock. Everything eventually all came crashing down right to him, his hips jerking back quickly, his cock leaving you empty with a wet pop. Danny grunted as his thick, hot seed sprayed out against your pussy up to your lower stomach.

He collapsed right on top of you, you both left a panting, steaming mess of exhaustion and nerves. Your hands interlocked into Danny's hair, pressing your cheek up against his head. You could feel the burning pleasure you once had slowly fading into a dull hum, your emotions and everything finally coming back to you over again. Danny fucking the sense out of you felt great and all, but you were left with one thing as your mind cleared up.

"What the hell did you do to my friend?"

[mewtwo24]

I finally finished reading the fourth volume of svsss in full, and thing is--the first time through I only read the bingqiu content because I was ravenous for more of their happy ending.

Turns out that was a perilous mistake.

Because I started reading the airplane extras. And I swear to god. MXTX is trying to kill me

What do you MEAN demon lord Binghe was sitting on his big fucking throne. All stoic and forbidding. Surrounded by his demon generals who don't know shit about human courtship. Asking them what he should do, fully demoralized by constant rejections from sqq, only to have airplane tell him to act more pathetic and needy. Which is already hysterically funny and insane, UNTIL LBH'S RESPONSE IS THIS, KILLING ME INSTANTLY:

LUO BINGHE. WHY DOES HE SAY IT LIKE: "I already tried that, didn't work--nothing works :/ not mean, not maidenly, not housewife, not spicy, not capable disciple. Is doubling down on clingy really all it will take? What's a born hater with only one love in his life to do????"

The dichotomy of him sitting there like 'how can I reach the unfathomable depths of shizun's heart?' A HEART HE'S ALREADY WON OVER, MIND and then in the Holy Mausoleum solving the puzzle without blinking and being like 'oh yeah you just have to hit the acupoints, no sweat.' Literally the comedy writes itself I'm so--

How am I supposed to be normal about this. MXTX understands the juicy quintessential queer joy of a person with the world's power at their fingertips wishing only for love. Willing to do anything to earn that love, when unbeknownst to them it's already been freely given. Totally not screaming and yelling and clawing at the walls

And that's not even touching airplane's uproarious account of events. The way he's like 'lol what's next, lbh and sqq are best friends now? smfh' only to see lbh TACKLE SQQ LOVINGLY. FOR SQQ TO BE BASHFUL ABOUT IT BUT SO SO FOND OF THE LITTLE SCAMP. This when we've been experiencing sqq's constant inner monologue of 'I'm so cool and so dignified about my role, truly the epitome of propriety and poser-level fortitude.' Meanwhile, in their universe:

Airplane constantly flaming???? Sqq and lbh in his observations????? His absolute bewilderment and confusion????? Legendary. No notes every single second of this shit was hilarious.

Airplane's comment that sqq + older adolescent lbh traveling together was just watching a couple in their honeymoon phase. OR the fact that lbh is exceedingly petty and refuses to share their food in the wake of airplane's interruption of their time together, until sqq relents sheepishly and insists airplane eat what's left (ONLY AFTER PLACATING LBH WITH MORE FOOD FROM HIS PLATE, SOBBING)

Watching airplane salivate over Mobei-Jun and acting like that's totally normal behavior. Finding out mbj and airplane got together first. Finding out sqq encouraged airplane. LIKE THIS. WHILE HE IS STILL IN DENIAL ABOUT HIS OWN FEELINGS:

Mobei-jun clearly thinking their arrangement is a forever thing, heartbroken his human abandoned him with all the hapless fury of a scorned wife swept away by false promises of fidelity. Airplane writing demons to be the type to beat up their crush lovingly and still unable to connect the dots about mbj's feelings. Mbj letting him go and respecting his wishes, only relenting when there's indication airplane was poorly processing his own feelings and didn't actually want to leave. Mbj caring for him and listening to him as soon as airplane voices what he needs directly and with clarity. None of these gays are functional and it's everything to me

Unrelated, but I physically can't hold this information in anymore:

I'm still reeling from younger lbh having his sexual awakening from the image of sqq wrapped in the immortal binding cables. Condemn me as you like he was so, so real for that.

And no I will not be taking any comments about how luo bingge couldn't bear to see luo binghe cherished in ways he never got to have and all the haunting implications of that. I will also not be taking any comments about luo binghe's instinct to look for sqq in that alternate universe, only to be shaken to the very core to be unable to find his shizun anywhere. The unspeakable and latent horror of his relentless mind likely piecing together what happened, but unable to say it; to suspect what is true, and live with the harrowing confusion of his double's actions. To blame himself, to assume that he had let his anger get the better of him in that world and result in unspeakable folly...

I also refuse to talk about how heartrending it is to hear Tianlang-jun weakly say "In the end, I really can't bring myself to hate humans." The implication that the foolishness of that hope and bright-eyed fondness--the very thing that put him through such unspeakable agony--couldn't be beaten out of him entirely. To discover that his faith in Su Xiyan hadn't been misplaced, to the contrary: his beloved hadn't scorned him at all, but rather fought to the miserable end to protect the fruition of their genuine feelings of love when she couldn't protect tlj or herself.

How MXTX has sqq deliberately draw parallels between their situation and that of ygy+sj and tlj+sx; desperately wishing it might not be too late for them. The concept of breaking cycles of abuse and harm pervasive throughout the newly devised story, how it evolves for the better only when love takes the place of power, pride, and domination. How the moment sqq chooses vulnerability instead of saving face, the genre shifts to the so-called "cringe" girly genre where most if not every character is more fulfilled, more true to themselves. How the "male-oriented" former genre was aimlessly sensationalized and sexualized, how it was a sustained performance of aspirational toxic masculinity. How men objectify other men without end. All of the unspoken gendered implications that come with that.

Anyways. Going to go put my head in a sandbox and try to process everything I just witnessed because even a second reading is not enough to find a modicum of closure.

[cvrnelians]

smile like you mean it - chapter five

You knew filing for divorce would be no easy feat. But filing for divorce from Roman Roy?

"No easy feat” might as well have been synonymous with “impossible."

warnings: drug use, alcoholism, miscarriage, Roman and the rest of the Roy family being awful.

chapters 1-3 // chapter four

music

chapter five

10 ways to get someone to like you: A foolproof guide

If you want to be liked, be likable.

Roman scowled and slammed his laptop shut, carelessly tossing it to the end of the bed. 

“What a stupid fucking article.”

He got up and stretched, his limbs still rigid from a heavy sleep. If there was anything positive to come out of the complete and utter shitshow that was the day before, a good night’s sleep took the cake. Rest was something Roman didn’t get a whole lot of lately, but when he did sleep, he slept hard. 

Prior to becoming COO of Waystar Royco, he had always been a heavy sleeper. It wasn’t unusual for him to get eight hours of shuteye even after napping all day. He had a copious amount of (not-so-fond) childhood memories in which Connor, Kendall, and Shiv jumped on his bed in order to wake him up. They often had to hit him with pillows and shake him to the point of nausea to get him to finally open his eyes.

Well, they didn’t really have to. 

There were a small handful of differences between now and then. 

Although he would never admit it, his job was a big source of stress for him. The most pathetic thing about it? Most days he didn’t accomplish even twenty five percent of what his colleagues did. And what he was able to do completely exhausted him. It was a lot to live up to, being the inheritor—and now a figurehead—of a monster he hadn’t created; a monster he wasn’t even sure he wanted to keep feeding. 

Another major difference between now and then was that Kendall no longer needed to shake him from a dead sleep in order to make him feel nauseous. All it really took was watching him walk into your room in the middle of the night, casual as could be, to put Roman into a not-so-ideal headspace.

“Acting like he was reuniting with an old friend or some shit,” he mumbled under his breath. He got into the shower, his mind going a million miles a minute as he continued talking to himself. “I’m Kendall,” he mocked. “I’m better than everyone now, didn’t you know? I went to rehab. I drink green juice. I’ve read The Secret. I don’t have stress anymore because I never see my own children. Look how stable I am now.” 

This was the one downside of being so well-rested. His brain actually lived up to its potential. His mind simply refused to slow down. No matter how hard he willed himself not to think of you, he only thought about you that much more. Not that this was all that different from any other day. Roman thought about you all the time, sleep deprived or not.

He liked you. Okay? Even with your cheap clothes and your shitty attitude and your refusal to sit next to him in the car, he had some…feelings when it came to you.

Ew.

He hated it when you were upset with him, and he hated it even more when you weren’t around.

From the first time he saw you, he liked you. A lot, actually.

Roman liked you a lot.

He had gone to your room the night before to say he was sorry discuss how hypersensitive you were being in response to the hilarious things he said, but he stopped short in the doorway. 

As it turned out, you were busy. So as any gentleman would, Roman said fuck that noise and booked it back to his room. That was the second time you made him run that day, you little jerk.

He wondered if he should take bearing witness to that stomach-turning embrace between you and Kendall as a sign. Perhaps he should never apologize to anyone, for any reason, ever again. Not even to those who deserved an apology. Not even to you. If that was what he got for trying to be the bigger person, having to watch his stormcloud of an older brother get what he wanted without even having to try, well…what was the point? 

“Likable. Likable? What does that even mean?” he asked himself. 

Why would the author of that article automatically assume the people reading it were the unlikable ones? What kind of introduction was that? Why should he have to shoulder the responsibility of someone not liking him? Why should he have to do all this work to win you over? Why was he even worried about it? You should be the one trying to get into his good graces. You should be the one typing stupid questions into Google at seven o’ clock in the morning, not him. It didn’t matter that he called you a run-of-the-mill, ladder climbing, H&M wearing plebeian (or a coffee gopher). It didn’t matter that he had driven you to the brink of a full blown mental breakdown under his tenure. It didn’t matter that knowing he was the one that made you cry felt like a punch to the gut.

...which didn't even turn him on, by the way.

None of it mattered. He shouldn’t have to apologize for a thing. You were obviously sleeping with Kendall. Kendall! Even if you weren’t working for him, sleeping with Kendall would still put you in the wrong in any context. You were trying so desperately to make Roman believe he was the problem, just as everyone else did. You little gaslighter. 

You weren’t seriously going to leave over a couple of little insults, right?

Right?

He was so distracted by his own thoughts, he somehow managed to get a concerning amount of shampoo in his eyes. 

“Ow, FUCK!” 

Following five stressful minutes of washing his eyes out (or trying to, anyway), he slumped over and held his hands over his face, allowing the water to run directly over his head. He could still picture you crying on the plane, which he had been doing on a loop for the past several hours. He could concede that he came off a little unpleasant at times, but it was more of a defense mechanism than anything. Deep down, Roman knew he didn’t take anyone seriously simply because no one else took him seriously. But you had wanted to be taken seriously, and did everything to earn that. 

You were having some relatively fun banter prior to the moment he turned on you like a feral dog. When he was finished with his cutting little monologue, you looked like you had been slapped. Seeing you so upset and proceeding to mock you for it…

Ugh.

This was not uncharacteristic of Roman, but it wasn't necessarily his proudest moment, either. It made him sick to his stomach, as a matter of fact. 

A lot of things about the past few days made him sick to his stomach.

He could remember having a similar feeling from when he was growing up. Everything would be fine and dandy until he would say or do one little thing to set Logan off, and then bam: 

First came the hurt, then came the ridicule. 

“Oh, you’re crying now? You’re crying? Why don’t you just go tell Kendall about it? I’m sure he’d love nothing more.” 

Roman cringed at his own words.

First came the hurt, then came the ridicule. 

And then he was alone.

If you want to be liked, be likable.

He would never say it to you directly, but if he could, he would.

"I’m sorry I made you so sad."

☽ 

“You have no idea how things will turn out, and it’s very juvenile. It’s fucking dumb. You’re being dumb!”

You cringed as Kendall’s words bounced around in your head.

Last night had been very interesting, to say the least.

For several hours now, you lay flat on your back, slipping in and out of a restless sleep. When you did become lucid, you simply stared up at the impossibly tall vaulted ceiling. It was painted and preserved beautifully, gold borders encasing rich shades of red and blue. You reached your arm up, pretending to trace and retrace the intricate patterns with your fingers. Exhausted yet unable to sleep, you needed something mindless and soothing to wind yourself down. 

Sadly, your efforts were to no avail. Your mind was still racing, hyper focused on what transpired the night before. It was jarring to think that just a simple “so, how have you been?” from Kendall would open a Pandora's box you had no clue even existed. You didn’t have much time to concentrate on it, though. At that moment, two things happened at once.

You felt a stab of panic as you received a notification that your flight was now boarding. You couldn’t believe it. You had missed your flight. You had dissociated to the point of having missed your flight. And before you could even sit up, you were startled by a loud banging noise against your door. It sounded like someone was ramming something into it full force. You weren't even sure who you were hoping not to see at this point.

Not since Kendall went absolutely ballistic on you.

“Knock, knock!” a familiar voice yelled. He didn’t bother actually knocking, nor did he wait for you to respond. He probably thought the unpleasant crash was sufficient enough.

You were almost relieved.

Enter one Roman Roy.

But he wasn’t alone. In front of him was the culprit, the battering ram that nearly gave you a heart attack, in the form of a large metal breakfast cart. If that wasn’t bizarre enough, he was dressed in athletic wear. He looked out of place in such a grandiose room, like you were playing a beginner’s version of “I Spy.” 

I spy with my little eye something reprehensible.

“Here comes the breakfast fairy,” he said in an awkward, singsong voice. He slowly rolled  the unsteady cart towards you. “Here to um…y’know. Bring you breakfast. Breakfast just for you.”

A wheel broke off as he made his way over, making coffee spill onto the tray. He cursed as he shakily lifted the tray up off the cart and reached over to hand it to you. You gawked at him. “Okay, that’s what I get for saying that. That was fucking stupid. I didn’t say that. You don’t remember me saying that.” 

“You brought me breakfast?”

“It would appear so,” he said cheerfully. “Like a good boy.”

“I missed my flight,” you blurted out awkwardly. 

He paused for a second, taking a deep breath before reverting back to his typically rude delivery. “Yeah, not my problem. Can you please just take the tray? It’s really heavy.”  

“I missed my flight,” you repeated. 

He ignored you and slowly set the tray on your lap. He lifted the lid to reveal a pretty solid breakfast as far as you were concerned: a single poptart and two comically large cups of coffee. One was black, the other a latte with a poorly drawn happy face carved into the foam. You would have laughed if you weren’t so stressed out. All of this buildup for a lone pastry and an alarming amount of coffee.

“Where’s the second poptart?”

“I ate it. Obviously. Don’t be ungrateful,” he snapped. “You like wildberry, right? You seem like you would like wildberry. A little fun, a little different. Spice up your life, or whatever.”

You rolled your eyes, breaking the poptart into several pieces before taking a bite. “You could have the most elaborate breakfast in the world, and yet you’d prefer to have this?”

“What? I may be rich but that doesn’t mean I like exclusively rich people things. Have you seen rich people food? I mean, probably not but…” 

You tentatively picked up the latte. “Did you poison this? Did you spit in this?”

“Hah, you wish.”

“I wish?”

“I mean, I can if you’d like,” he said, leaning towards you.

“No!” you yelled, making him wince. You lowered your voice. “Sorry, no. I think I’m alright.”

He reached down to pick up the other mug. “This one's for meee.”

“Of course it is.”

He gasped, cradling the side of his face with his palm in mock excitement. “Uh oh. I have an idea. Do you want to spit in mine?”

“I hate this conversation," you sighed. "You’d probably be into that, so I’m gonna say no.”

“Well, how do you know for sure that the cool one is yours?”

You shrugged. “Because I’m cool.”

“You sure about that?” 

“And I know you like your coffee black.”

“Touché,” he said, leaning against the wall across from your bed. You both drank your coffee in silence for a few moments.

“Did you bring this from home?” you asked, pointing to the poptart. 

“No. I made that lanky muppet go buy me a box.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Wh...Wait, are you talking about Greg?”

“Yeah, I figured I would send Gumby on a little errand since I apparently can’t do that with you anymore. Since you’re—” he made air quotes with his fingers—“quitting.” 

“Wait, does he even know how to drive in the UK? How did he even get to a store? We’re miles from—” 

“I told him I would make him sleep outside if he didn’t figure out a way to score me some. I have no clue how he got all the way out into the city so fast. Can you believe that? Being tall does have its perks, I guess. His strides had him moving at the speed of light, apparently.” 

You gawked at him again, horrified. 

Poor, poor Greg.

You dropped the remaining pieces of the poptart on your plate. “I’m not hungry anymore.” 

“Oh come on, it’s funny. Don’t let his efforts be in vain.” He took a big gulp of coffee. “Anyway. I was thinking...”

“Why are you dressed like that?” you asked.

“Like what?”

“Like a fitness influencer.”

“I was getting to that. Don’t interrupt me.”

You leaned your head back and groaned. 

“Okay, drama. Calm down. We’re all supposed to go golfing this morning, but I hate golf. I'm pretty sure you do, too. You told me once. So I thought maybe we could, like. I don’t know. Pretend to go for a run like we usually do? Talk? Only if it’s not going to cut into your busy schedule, of course. Ms. Newly Unemployed.”

“Roman, what could you possibly want to talk about? If you’re going to try and convince me to stay, don’t waste your time.”

“I was thinking we could get to know each other, at least a little bit. That way, I would know what to put in your reference letter when you blow this popsicle stand.”  

“Yeah. Like you would write the letter yourself,” you mused. "Like you even could. You can't even reply to an email in a timely manner."

“Hey!”

“Fine. It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do. Like I said, I missed my flight and am feeling like a total idiot. Bet you’re really getting off on that one.” 

He stared at you for a few seconds, like he was thinking carefully about what to say next. 

“What?” you asked.

He sighed. “I’m not getting off on it as much as you might think.”

You raised your eyebrows.

“I don’t know how you perceive me exactly, but I have a general idea. And I know this might come as a shock, but like I said, I’m really not that bad. I mean, okay. I am. I am. But not in every situation, not always. I’ll have you know, I do have my moments.”

“Yeah? When?”

“Right now, maybe? Look, I brough—”

“Brought me breakfast. Yeah. I can see that.”

“Which I still haven’t gotten a proper thank you for, by the way.”

“I’ll give you a proper thank you when you give me a proper apology.”

“Fine. Okay, I’m sorry I was a little unreasonable with you yesterday. I’m sorry I, uh…manhandled you when we were getting into the car. Or tried to. Like, really, really tried.You’re pretty strong, you know that?” 

“Is that all?” you asked, cocking your head to one side.

“And I’m sorry for what I said about you and Kendall. And calling you names. I didn’t mean it. That about covers it, right?”

“And?”

“...being a dick?”

You considered not even bringing it up, but since you decided to quit your job, you simply did not care anymore.

“Aren’t you sorry that you lied to me?”

“Wait, what?” he asked, on the verge of laughter. “I didn’t lie to you. Lie to you about what?” 

Your conversation with Kendall rang loud and clear in your ears.

“It’s so good to see you. I wish you could’ve been on the flight with us, but I know you got held up. Work comes first.” 

Work comes first? What did that have to do with there not being enough seats on the jet? 

“Got held up?” 

“Yeah, Roman told us you guys were swamped.” 

“I…I mean, yeah. I’m always busy, but we flew separately because Roman told me there wasn’t enough room on the plane for us.” 

“I’m sorry. What did you just say?” 

“Yeah, he said there were some issues with the seats. A few of them needed to be repaired, so there wasn’t enough space for everyone.”

“Are you…oh my god,”  Kendall scoffed. “Oh my fucking god.”

“Ken, I don’t—”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Roman, why did we fly here separate from everybody else?”

Roman choked on his coffee, making him stop to clear his throat. “I already told you, there wasn’t enough space for our sparkling personalities on Dad's favorite plane.”

“Not enough space?”

“Yep.”

“You sure about that?”

“Look, no matter what evocative bullshit you send my way this morning, you can’t change my mind. I’ve already decided. I want to make things up to you. So, if you’re upset that I maybe told a little white lie, I’m sorry.”

“So you did lie, then?”

He eyed you sheepishly.

“Sort of. How did you figure it out?"

“I don’t get it. Of all things, why would you lie about that?” 

“I don’t know, maybe it had something to do with me not wanting to hang out with my family in a torture chamber for hours? What if we crashed? You think I wanna die surrounded by a bunch of scorpions?”

“They’re your family!”

“Unfortunately."

“If the two of us crashed together, you’d have died alongside someone that doesn’t even like you. How is that more appealing?”

"Oh, how you wound me," he said flatly. “That may be so, but you don’t annoy me. Not to mention, you only sting me if I sting you first. It’s refreshing.”

You didn’t have the mental bandwidth to analyze that one this morning.

“Alright, fine. But your apology tour isn’t quite over yet.”

“You do know I don’t have to apologize to you at all, don’t you? You’re leaving. You’re basically nothing to me.”

“And yet, here you are.” 

“What can I say? I’m just such a nice guy.”

You both stared at each other for a second before launching into hysterics.

Roman sighed as you both attempted to stop cackling. “You know this is the most you’ve smiled at me in…like, ever? Is that poptart really that good?”

“I just feel relieved is all.”

“And why is that?”

“Why do you think?” you asked. "I'm finally freeing myself from your reign of tyranny."

"Do you really hate me that much?" he asked, setting down his mug. “We have fun sometimes, don't we? I mean, we got into a blowout argument yesterday and now we're totally fine. Even when we argue, I still don't feel like we're enemies. And believe me, I have a lot of those. Are you sure you want to leave?”

The way he was looking at you was truthfully making you a little sad. But as per usual, he wasn't thinking logically. You were practically attached at the hip every day. Of course there was some level of familiarity between the two of you, even amidst all the chaos. It was easy to mistake for friendship, given how often you were in communication, given how much you did for him. But that was your job.

You had to stop yourself from smiling.

Not anymore, it wasn't.

“Roman, the way we communicate is super dysfunctional. You’ve made me cry multiple times. Yes, I’m sure I want to leave.”

“Ugh," he groaned. "Okay. Look, as far as I'm concerned, you're king shit of fuck mountain right now."

"Excuse me, what?" you laughed.

"What you say goes. Pick a number, I'll increase your salary. Lay out some ground rules. I'm not the most ethically sound person in the world, but I do know how to compromise when it comes to doing what's best for business. And you're probably the only person who can tolerate me, so."

"Roman, I don't think I can come back from yesterday. That was way, way too much. But it's not just you. Last nigh—"

"I was wrong," he interrupted you. "I usually am. Shocker. But here's the thing: you're kind of like...invaluable, to me?" It came out as more of a reluctant question than a statement. His voice was shaky and small as he continued on. "You've, um...helped me a lot. In more ways than one. And I don't want you quitting and just going to work for Kendall again, because I don't really trust him."

"Roman, I can assure you that is not something you will ever have to worry about. Last nigh—"

"Just don't go, please."

You would've been more annoyed with him constantly interrupting you if his voice didn't sound so pitiful, if he didn't look so pitiful. You were caught off guard by the groveling. Not necessarily put off by it, but certainly surprised. This was possibly the most vulnerable you had ever seen him. And the whole breakfast thing; since when did Roman go out of his way to do something deliberately nice for you? It was very obviously to serve his own purposes. He didn't want you to quit, but it didn't seem to come from a bad place.

You had observed him for a second too long, it seemed. He cleared his throat and quickly regained his composure. Just like his kindness, Roman's willingness to be vulnerable also had a very short shelf life.

"If you expect another apology, you can fuck off. And I know you do expect one. But don't actually fuck off, you know what I mean? Out of everybody here, I want you to fuck off the least."

"Wow," you said flatly. "That's amazing."

"I know. I can't believe it, either."

☽ 

kendall 👀👀

@pearlstiare // @ay0nha // @theladyalicnt // @littleladdty @spacebaby1

[weeb-polls-with-pip]

Autistic Anime Boys Prelims - Propaganda Division - Group 2

Propaganda:

Kyouya -

"what's there to say? you know him. you love him. vote kyoya."

Rinnosuke -

"Rinnosuke Morichika lives in an overly-cluttered curio shop, and has a special interest in making magical inventions. Since he doesn’t live in a modern setting— but a pocket dimension slightly disconnected to the outside world— whenever a modern item shows up in his shop via spiriting away, he can obsess over it for extended periods of time. He is quite blunt without realizing it, even to people he cares for. He also has a special ability to generally understand the name and use of any item he touches (though this backfires sometimes, he thought a Gameboy was a doomsday device once)."

Fuuta -

"okay look theres so many fucking signs hes autistic. he cannot tell tone and often doesn't know how to react to stuff which is a major point in his character id say. he was asked if he remembered his victim's name (hes a murderer. oops!) and his response was something along the lines of "Of course I do. I saw it everywhere." because he did not understand that they wanted to know what it was since it wasnt directly stated. im convinced that hoodies are a comfort object of his because i genuinely have not seen him without one except for one time. also hes canonically a chronically online twitter user. also he gets really passionate about his interests. also not really related but everyone in the fandom agrees hes transgender but no one can agree on what way. ive seen every single gender hc for this dude. vote kajiyama fuuta for this sopping wet poor little meow meow of a man."

Hansum -

"He's just a very odd and strange lad, can't remember names well, is an alien (mild spoiler), he's very popular, obsessed with Doritos and becomes their mascot, just refers to everyone as humans which is a mood, and is completely socially oblivious."

Miyuki -

"Relatable neurodivergent-Gifted Child syndromeTM case with all the superiority-inferiority complex that results. A chronic show-off and scheming strategist with a lowkey hopeless romantic dramatic aspect to him, silly cool and pathetic in a very hilarious way. Shirogane has a trademark glare purely thanks to his eyebags as he runs on coffee everyday having to support his family with multiple jobs in addition to class, on top of student council president duties. He's kind and an obsessive perfectionist who fills his entire wall with the weirdest motivational posters. Shirogane is very devoted to his love. He likes penguins (Kaguya and him is peak asd4asd and bi4bi btw)."

Kirito -

"He's autistic and bisexual as hell, and there's a good bit of trans coding in him 🥺

Autism coding: Bro's literally got a sword and swordfighting hyperfixation where, despite playing a game that focuses around guns, he still chooses to use a sword!! We also see him completely missing Asuna's flirting at first (he tells her she could have just checked her friendlist to make sure he was alive, in response to her tracking him down to see him)

Bi coding: Dual wielding swords is literally a euphemism in Japan for bisexuality; and Kirito initially tries to hide the fact he can dual wield out of fear of how the people he's close to will view him (and once he reveals it to them and they accept it, he begins to be more open about it.) Also in the Underworld arc he becomes very close with Eugeo to the point of living with him (and sharing a bed on occasion), and there are several parallels between Eugeo and Asuna, and they're so gay for each other that despite the anime having only a toned down version of it, they're still very affectionate (Also of note is that Eugeo is the only guy in SAO canon to consistently have a 'laying in bed with Kirito' talk CG in the spinoff games) (There's more but it's spoilers and this is a shortened version)

Trans coding: Kirito is very trans coded in the light novel (which shows Kirito's thoughts in much greater detail than the anime) Aincrad arc reveals that Kirito explicitly Does Not Like his real face, and dislikes how feminine it looks (he mentions that its led to him and his cousin being mistaken for sisters) And in Phantom Bullet arc, he's visibly uncomfortable at being mistaken for a girl due to his avatar's appearance, and in response to being misgendered he briefly panics and checks to make sure his chest flat (at least in the anime adaptation) 🏳️‍⚧️"

Shirou -

"Has one goal in life and ignores almost everything in favor of trying to fulfil that goal."

Keith -

"Speaks in a way that is seen as weird and has mannerisms others think is funny. He struggles with not being taken seriously by others because of this and many of the things others say goes over his head. He struggles to connect with other people because of these things. His entire arc in the second film is about him deciding that the people who don't accept him for who he is aren't worth it and that he's going to continue being himself."

Junpei -

"for other fans of this series, I know the more obvious representation here may be Luou, Junpei is So Good. his special interest is ballet and he has so many hangups involving how his family sees him and how other boys his age interpret him to the point that his idea of masculinity is extremely narrow and he enforces social rules on himself to mask and keep people from realizing that he loves something that Isn't Manly. he misinterprets social cues and takes things literally, like assuming that when Miyako asked him to dance with her she meant Right This Minute rather than as a pair in the studio. for some reason the point where he cuts his hair super short to prove his devotion to ballet is also sticking with me, I think maybe it's the combination of the way it's normal for boys/men in Japan to do that, yet Junpei didn't realize that kind of attitude/action didn't suit ballet at all? he wasn't aware that the context was completely different. Junpei also doesn't act or pretend very well, he's gotta put his whole entire ass into his roles, which he then proceeds to get TOO into and cause a lot of trouble, without giving too much away! he's really relatable to me as someone who's socially anxious but very skilled at masking, and seeing him become more comfortable with himself and start to show how he really feels is so inspiring to me."

Kazuma -

"He may be (wildly) misguided but his intentions are good kinda! He’s just the Guy of all time idk how to explain it."

[bonefall]

I just read your response about how the Erin's didn't realise the colonialism themes of DOTC and now I'm wondering if it's because they're British - a big fucking colonialist country

I am also British and I have seen first hand how watered down the empire's negative consequences are in schools. I still remember being told, "the only ones that weren't having a great time were the slaves." when in reality no-one but the British was having a good time

It's unthinkable that the fact they are White British Authors of a Certain Age didn't contribute to it. Like... that's just how culture works, even if it somehow wasn't at all related to their formal education. It influences how you think.

(Also as an aside, even most of The British didn't like the whole empire thing. 3/4ths of Britain isn't England. 2024 is still young, come on guys, be hilarious)

I can't ENTIRELY pin this one on you guys though, the writers are English but their biggest audience is American. And the Americans also predictably failed to catch the themes. ALSO a big colonialist country.

(I happened to get a really good education though, especially for a public school. I don't know if My Fellow Americans even learned about the Whiskey Rebellion or the Banana Wars)

It's also hard to explain it, but the Erins also have a very British way of writing fat people. There's overlap between them, but Brit and American fatphobia has two 'trends.'

American fatphobia tends to frame weight as being funny, pathetic, and a sign of a lack of discipline. English fatphobia tends use it to make a villainous or annoying character appear even more vile, greedy, and unhygienic. American media has also had a stronger trend of body positivity lately, whereas I'm having a hard time even thinking of overweight English characters who are not mocked for their size.

These are just the two things I've noticed though. I'm sure there's more noteworthy trends about WC that's influenced by its authors coming from where they do.

[houserautha]

Good morning from silly little drowsy me 😴😊

About...

"also horny all of the time so pretty much always erect or semi-hard😂😂"

Bc fighting and violence makes him extra horny.... BUT

Imagine that he has a temporary lover, a visiting lady maybe, and she is all soft and tender and loving with him and he lets her.... but after that violence or pain will just not do and he's like...

"You broke me!"

And she would have no idea what he's talking about but he drags her to his bedroom where a harem of women waits for him and he had his usual fun with them already but nothing works....

And the lady would still be confused af until he takes her hand to cup him and... nothing....

It would probably still take a moment for her to get over this scene and start to think properly but then she would just try "her way" (= a simple, tender, featherlight, softest kiss ever while pressed against him, holding him close to her as he practically melts in her arms) and he would be getting hard in an instant....

Then he is like, fine. "Take your responsibility, woman. We will marry today!" 🤭

Here I am, late to another ask😂

But I love this. I’m imagining that Feyd thinks this affair would be fleeting and quick, a fix of pleasure, and he doesn’t expect to become so infatuated with her. (It would be hilarious if she’s a Bene Gesserit and he swears she put a spell on him or something)

The lady would be nearing her stay and Feyd would start distancing himself because he can’t handle any emotion. The day of her departure he would try to bury himself into his concubines (literally) working up a sweat as he tries to fuck them until tears spring to his eyes. Feyd is frustrated because he just can’t perform, and it’s all her fault, so he storms to her quarters and drags her back to his where the concubines are waiting. Feyd would basically point to each man and woman and be like “look — look how hot they are. And yet I can’t fuck them. Because of you!”😂

And the lady would be very bewildered by this situation, blinking stupidly and trying to figure out why he’s angry and yelling at her.

Finally Feyd would demonstrate his sexual conundrum by grabbing a concubine by the face and kissing them before the lady. Then he would stride across the room to the lady and grab her hand and bring it to his still soft cock and look at her and say pathetically, “You have ruined me.”

The lady would understand finally and perhaps reach up to lay her free hand on his cheek. She would give him a gentle, reassuring kiss and in her palm she could feel his cock stirring, hardening beneath her touch. Feyd would then withdraw slightly and rasp, “You cannot leave me in such a state. I would like to take you as a wife as no one else will do.”

[m1ssunderstanding]

Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 2.3

Yoko, you're hilarious. Sirens going off in her brain. “Alert! They're into childhood bedroom crush confessions territory. Redirect! Redirect!”

But also I find them so ridiculous. All the men in this. Is it just a case of men always assuming women are talking more than they are? Because I am definitely not hearing Yoko talking for John here. Or is this a rare case?

Paul’s scouse getting progressively thicker as the argument intensifies. Trying to finish his point as John's interrupting him. “But. Bot! Boot!! I do think –”Ugh it's so sexy. Sorry, anyway. 

Paul's pep talk to John is super cute, but what does he mean, exactly? “we would actually all have dug to see you kick that telephone box in.”  What is this metaphor? What does he want John to break? Or does he just mean John should act out more?

Okay but in this interview, she's definitely doing 90% of the talking even when the interviewer specifically asks just John. So if that's how they are in meetings or whatever then okay I could see that being frustrating. 

Ow. Fuck. Hate that moment.

John: another Lennon/McCartney original entitled “All I Want is You”. Paul: Allan Wanna Too . . . Al Aronovitz. John: Al Aronovitz if you'll Aronovitz. We'll both Aronovitz together. Ugh sometimes you can just hear the voices in their heads being like “no don't tell him you like his song, that's pathetic! God, you're such a loser for even thinking it.” And sometimes . . . It's this. There's no in between. 

John knows if Paul's singing “Darling” he's talking to him. Look at his expression as he's watching Paul sing “stand by me Darling, Darling.”

“Dig it” is actually insane. Paul: if you want it, you can get it. You can get it if you can dig it up. John: I can hardly keep my hands still. John: if you want it all you gotta do is ask for it. Paul: (intermittent with John, starts a crescendo of “yeah. Yeah! Yeah! YEAH!” and “want it. Want it. Want it. Want it.”) John continues: Nicely. Say pretty please and you're gonna get it. You're gonna get it alright, you're gonna get it. This time you're gonna get it good!

The looks as they're making fun of something important to him. Poor George. 

See and here's the thing. If George knows basically what happened in India (which from this quote that's what I'm deducing) then Paul knows. You know?

Okay you know the “I love you, blue” moment from Get Back? I was feeling so devastated for John that there was no response to that and someone very smart pointed out in the tags that this moment could be interpreted as Paul's coded reply which I think is a lovely idea. And seems legit especially since John responds with song lyrics. 

Paul: no that's good, that one. John: okay, tick it. Paul: I Love that one. John: thank you. Paul: I really do. John: I enjoy it too sometimes. 

Peter Jackson why didn't you include these bits in your film? Huh? Huh? Was it because it was too homosexuality for you? 

John's voice singing “you can imitate anyone you know” over teeny clips of Paul doing about fifty different impressions. It's so phenomenal. 

John's “pleeeeeheeeease” actually makes me want to cry. He's begging with everything he's got. It's like he's a baby, really truly, and it physically hurts. If I was the one he was talking to in that song, I don't know if I could survive. 

But Paul is sure. They're stuck. He can't give John what he wants. 

Yoko tries to give John a kiss and he's so harsh. “Stop it!” If my boy ever talked to me like that . . . Let's just say I wouldn't be sitting with him at work anymore. 

And then he's laying with his head in her lap, laughing madly with Paul. See what I mean? If Paul would just let John lay in his lap, I guarantee Yoko would not be there.

A coded exchange PJ left out. You can tell when they start to talk in code just by their tone. Suddenly they're a bit more even-keeled, a bit slower, clearer in their speech. Paul: achieve something every day. It may in theory sound silly, but . . . John: in practice . . . Paul: it's even sillier. But in practice, it's all there is. John: this is where it's at. Paul: this is where it's at unless that is where it's at. John: this is where it's at now. Paul: teamwork. A good defense. John: you play ball with me and I'll play ball with you. Paul: could be learning something instead of this you know. 

There's a reason Let it Be is played at funerals, folks. 

Is it just me or has Paul literally never looked uglier? Linda's a babe, though. John and Yoko both look cool and hot ASF.

Again, the song choices. “Goodbye (Paul's Version. From the Vault.)” Played over the double wedding footage? Okay. Goodbye, my love. 

[byyliss]

That's honestly pretty fucking rich coming from you Juice. You got so obsessed with Alex you got a whole group of losers to shit on them and ruin their life because you had a shitty relationship.

Honestly funny how you never said shit when Mitcha was bullying people, and when she went MIA today, you said nothing, not a sound. Only when anarchist spoke about the obvious.

So to you, ven, someone being suicidal and having a serious health crisis when people send them death threats....is a meltdown?

I can't say I'm surprised, given that that's how you portrayed Alex's mental health. You don't seem to really care about people in general it seems.

My screenshot is not working right, so I couldn't crop specific parts. But the begging alex part is hilarious to me. You know why?

Because Alex's response is coming, and I know ven is shitting himself because the moment people see all the bullshit, it's over. You think we dont know that mitcha was in their dms about it?

Ven you are pathetic. You can whine about how reddit is bullying a 16 yr old to make twitter not look into it, but you know reddit is actually analyzing your shitty document. And that's why you don't like them.

Mitcha inst the only self absorbed brat it seems.

[velvetvexations]

I'm being stalked by someone who screams that I can't stop talking about her despite her having it made it clear she wants "no contact" and then screenshots my blog to spread more lies about me in spite of the fact that I have her blocked and block evading is supposed to be one of my grievous sins

like literally the most I have talked about her recently was with a coded name that doesn't even reference her URL in response to her taking a screenshot of my post and calling me pro-American because memes are hilarious but IRL seriously I would have preferred 9/11 not have happened

I am still not using her URL or her fucking name while she goes around saying VELVET VEXATIONS SHOULD DRINK BLEACH BECAUSE SHE SAID DONALD TRUMP DOESN'T BELIEVE TRANS WOMEN ARE WOMEN NOW EXCUSE ME I SAW MY LEAST FAVORITE COLOR AND NEED TO COMPOSE A MELINCHOLY POEM TO PROCESS THE GRIEF IT'S CAUSED ME

every time a transradfem equates discussing how transphobes feel about us is the same as misgendering other trans people, that's fucking pathetic assuming it's a genuine belief and not just something to performatively break into tears over as intoxicatingly self-righteous justification for thinking only the people they fetishize should be allowed to exist

but apparently! this person has another stalker who sends her posts to other people! and that's really interesting to me, you know, because the only post of her's I've ever received from an anon was one in which she was talking about me! And when that person came off anon to say it was them that sent it, she took a screenshot of that admission but did not include me telling them off for stirring shit

too bad I decided to delete the admission due them using her name and can't prove I gave them that dressing down, clearly I shouldn't have fucking bothered since innocence itself is no protection

she seriously can't stop calling me a TERF while actual no-bullshit TERFs are openly calling on one another to email publishers trying to get me canceled for writing a fanfic where it's briefly mentioned a trans teenager wore her sister's clothes without asking, what the fuck does any transradfem know about TERFs when I'm dealing with actual TERFs and all they are to them is an abstract concept used to bludgeon trans men and non-binary people with

these fucking people do not experience actual fucking problems, they do not have any conception of what an actual problem is, they sit around lying about the traitorous Queen of Tee Em Eees, puppet of the completely fictional AFAB patriarchy, because they do not have real problems and have never had one in their entire lives, like all fucking people who can't go five seconds without reminding you they're a communist because they think it's cool and trendy and makes them sound smart to say things like dialetic materialist epistemology transubstantiating within the imperial core of the glocal northsouth without actually engaging in any of the actual ideals that make communism laudable and worthy of sincere pursuit

the temptation is to say that transradfems do it because they feel powerless to do anything about actual social issues on any level and lash out at anyone they can feel good taking a swing at, but I don't give a fuck, I'm not willing to give them that they're just misguided, I don't think there's a single atom in the being of even one transradfem that cares about about anything beyond the clout they can extract from it, at best everything they whine about is less than a fourteen year old on Livejournal writing about how unfair it is when their parents won't let them get a tattoo except usually the the fourteen year old would be relaying actual events that actually happened

and I straight up do not fucking believe anyone gets hate mail over interactions I've had with them either, I fucking do not believe those obviously bullshit lies while I still get anons calling me zipperits and trying to trigger dysphoria on the assumption that works on me for saying I think transmascs aren't cis men

in fact, I kinna half-joked about it before, but I think I now just fully believe it one hundred percent was a fucking trans rad fem - probably even this one in particular! - who sent my published work to that TERF the other day, because I haven't had that pinned or brought it up in months and I've never gotten attention from TERFs before this month outside of one or two comments that went nowhere

motherfucking hellsite

fucking internet

fucking stupid motherfuckers

[beezusvreeland]

Santi's journal (Santiago "Pope" Garcia x Reader)

I was planning on publishing a fic about Santiago on Valentine's Day, but didn't have time to finish. Since I like what I wrote so far, I decided to share with all of you :)

summary: After the break up, Santiago is advised to write a journal to deal with his feelings, an exercise that brings back memories and, maybe, a new hope for your relationship.

ship: Santiago "Pope" Garcia x Reader

genre: Angst, possible second chance romance, Santi sometimes being sweet and, others, a bitch.

words: 1,7k

taglist (if you'd like to be added, just let me know in the comments): @wreckmyimage @steven-grants-world @lizispunkk @torntaltos @nervousmumbling @littleshadow17

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You’ll never read this. I’ll make sure of it. It boils my blood the fact that I can see the face you’d make, you would tell me writing in a journal is so unlike me. Of course you’re right, you’re always fucking right. I wouldn’t be doing this if Will hadn’t made me. He showed up at 7 fucking am at my mother’s house and you know she fucking loves him, a prince charming, if she has ever seen one. Fucking prick keeps smirking at me because I know he is far from it. After eating like a fucking king, he tossed me this goddamn notebook and a pen and said something how I should stop pouring my feelings on alcohol, hilarious since he was drinking as much as me last night, and find another way to express emotions or whatever. He is still here, watching me like a fucking hawk while I pretend I’m taking this shit seriously. 

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Being back at my parents’ house is fun for like two days, after that it’s just depressing. I’m sleeping in my bed in my room and it just doesn’t feel like home anymore. If my conscience wasn’t guilty already, I would have broken the promise I made to Ironhead and driven my ass straight to the bar. I would keep getting a hangover, but at least I would sleep better.

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I was cleaning the car just now and found one of your earrings. That one that’s a small golden hoop, you wear it all the time. You’re probably looking for it, maybe I should give it to Frankie or Benny to return it to you. It’s funny, you always said that you felt sort of naked without earrings. It was one of these things you would repeat every once in a while, I’ve always liked that. Felt like a confirmation that even if you changed, you were still you.

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Things got complicated after we broke up. I wonder if you feel it too, our friends forming teams for each of us. I don’t like that. And I know you don’t either. I went to Fish’s to give him your earring, feeling safe ‘cause you know, it’s fucking Fish, mi hermano. But Sarah was home and was the one who opened the door. Let’s just say she’s very much on your team. She made sure I knew that with all the screaming in spanish and the dishes being thrown my way. I hid in my car until Frankie came home. Me, an army veteran. That’s how pathetic my life has been, princesa. 

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Can’t sleep again. Think I got too used to having you by my side. Also, this bed is very small, I don’t know how I was able to sleep here. I think you would like to know that now I’m the one doing my own laundry and the cleaning. Ma made it clear that her casa no es un hotel. I heard her telling mis tias that the only baby she wants to take care of is a grandchild and that I ruined her chances of having one. 

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Met a girl at the bar last night. We made small talk for a while, until she asked me if something was wrong because I kept looking at the door every time someone walked in. I told her I thought I saw a friend, but the truth is I realized that my body has an automatic response to the sound of the bar door opening. I turned every time hoping it would be you walking in, but it never was.

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I saw on the news that the old movie theater downton is going to be demolished and turned into a parking garage. Not gonna lie, it made me so fucking sad to think about it and to wonder how you might react to this news. We were always there when we were kids. It was where we talked for the first time. You think it was at school, but it wasn’t. All I wanted was an electric guitar just like James Hetfield’s and my parents said absolutely fucking not when I asked them for it, so I started working there on weekends. Sundays were always boring, only a handful of people showed up in the mornings and time just wouldn’t go by.

And then one day you showed up at the concession stand, hair down in one of those headbands you loved so much, I wasn’t prepared, thought I was going to have a heart attack at the age of 16. You recognized me from homeroom, knew my name and all. I was such a fucking simp, always trying to sit next to you. I thought you would never even look in my direction and then you were there at the theater, trying to make some small talk while I got you popcorn. I spent the rest of the day over the moon that we had talked and terrified I had blown it by being so nervous and barely saying anything to you. In homeroom on monday, you turned to me with a shy smile and said hi. That’s all it took. You had me…and still do.

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The nightmares are back. You know, the ones with the sounds of shots being fired, all the blood and the bodies. I’m terrified that one day I’ll start recognizing them. Of one of them becoming you. I almost called your number, dialed it and everything. Then I remembered that, according to you, the only acceptable excuses for waking you up in the middle of the night were if the house was on fire or if someone was dying. And I just didn’t want to give you yet another reason to be mad at me.

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I’m pissed off right now. Frankie had the audacity of taking me out of town to help him pick up some table Sarah bought online and next thing I know, he starts to reprimand me for what happened. Some bullshit about not giving up on what I loved, especially not you.

No matter how much we argued, he still missed my point. You were the one that had doubts. The one that didn’t want to commit. You said you wanted to, so why won’t you?

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I went back to the bar today. Fuck, I really needed a drink after that disaster with Frankie and the arguments with my mother, who won’t shut up about Miss Celia next door becoming a grandmother to twins and how she is thinking of giving her some of my baby clothes. Ma wanted them to go to her grandchildren, our children. We can’t have a conversation that doesn’t involve this topic. I just can’t do anything right.

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It’s not just the clothes she keeps, you know. Ma also has several scrapbooks with moments I didn’t even remember. There was one just for prom, with pictures at my house, in front of the limo, others where I look very sweaty and probably stoned. I spent years going back to that memory. It’s one of my biggest regrets, not taking you to prom. I put myself in a situation I didn’t know how to get out of.

The night we kissed for the first time, in my car parked in front of the movie theater, blew my mind. Before that, I thought you’d never date me, so I started dating other girls. I had hooked up with Paloma Gomez a few times when she let me know we would go to the prom together. I said yes. I was such a shit little idiot, fuelled by hormones and teenage angst. I hadn’t learned yet that having sex with someone doesn’t mean you are in love with them, how meaningless it could be. It didn’t matter how much I tried, no amount of it could ever compare to talking to you on the phone late at night, trading secrets and whispers about everything and nothing.

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Got a consulting job at a firm. It’s freelance for now, but you know, it gives me something to do and a reason to leave the house every day. The people at the office are fine, there aren’t that many demands at this time of the year and one of the ladies from the other floor brings a cake every friday. This week’s was lemon flavored with a cream filling I know you would love.

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Benny convinced me to try out the gym he is working at and it wasn’t bad. I thought he worked at the counter or something, but he is a personal trainer. A good one, if you ask me — don’t fucking tell him.

Ben made me lift some weights and run for a bit. Tried talking to him about the fight, I actually meant to ask how you have been, but once again the words escaped me and our conversation took a turn to who’s right and who’s wrong. He said if I wanted you back, I should understand what went wrong to make it right. It was weird, not gonna lie, all the riddles and shit. For a moment there, I felt like I was the kid and he was the adult for once.

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A few days after we kissed, you showed up at the theater again, remember? You seemed nervous for once, holding a dark green box that you put on the counter. You were even wearing a dress I hadn’t seen before, the one that made you look like Wednesday Addams. It seemed you even had a bit of makeup on.

You broke the awkwardness between us asking me to open the box. Inside there were five cupcakes with inscriptions on them: P R O M ? When I looked back at you, you had your hands behind your back and were shifting your weight, a smile on your face. Telling you that I already had a date and confirming I was dating that girl was one of the hardest things I ever had to do in life — and I’ve hidden in a cave full of corpses before, you know it.

I became desperate, tried telling you it wasn’t serious, that maybe I could cancel with her to go with you. And you said that would be cruel to both of you, then left.

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author's note: I have and idea for a part two. Let me know if you're interested? And if you like what you read, please reblog and leave a comment, it means the world to us writers to be able to interact with our readers.

masterlist

[badass-queer-couples-battle]

Sword gays showdown, round 1, bracket three

Propaganda:

For Nandor:

He's hilarious, pathetic, awful and used to be a great warrior. He's even pansexual.

Fucking guy

For Xenk:

His sword isn't just a sword, it's a daggersword. He can use it as a sword, a dagger, or a shortsword AND he can use it as a projectile and still have some sword left over. As for the queer side of the tournament: dude literally gave the smuggest smirk ever in response to a guy saying "I hate you" to him (image the submitter linked). WHOSE RESPONSE TO "I HATE YOU" IS A SMUG SMIRK LIKE THAT.

He gets a scene where he fights a bunch of bad guys while the rest of the party watches his skills in awe. Also the way he acts just gives off gay vibes.