#to be fair: this edible is fucking kicking in

[jessaerys]

help natalie contrapoints is making me seriously consider listening to all of the twilight books on audiobook

[regular-lord-reckoner]

also, whoever made my chiptole today???

i hope you find a million dollars and have good sex and/or good meals (in case you’re not into sex) every single day of your life, thank you !!

[baphofemme]

with the way things are going right now i honestly wish i would've moved out at 18

[flowerui]

♫ we both like apple cider, pgw

fluff & light angst, 4.1k words ୨୧ first fic on this blog! feedback is appreciated!! ^_^ i've had awful writer's block for MONTHS so i hope i havent gotten too rusty,,,

wherein dancing is your favorite way to destress, until a certain gunwook park goes and spoils it all.

꒰ requested. gender neutral reader (no pronouns or gendered terms used), reader is a year older than gw, dancer reader, bff hanbin, one-sided enemies to friends to lovers, college au, misunderstandings, set in the us, does this count as forced proximity? light angst, fluff (it gets so cheesy idk what happened to me), drinking/underage drinking ꒱

Dancing had always been your favorite way to unwind. After a long day of classes, practice is like a treat; the mental toll of having to listen to your professors drone on all day, and procrastinating assignments until the night they’re due is easily unraveled by dancing until you can’t feel your limbs—it’s unmatched.

That’s why, despite it being Wednesday (the second worst day of the week), you walk out of your last class with a skip in your step, like nothing could ruin your day.

Nothing except a man named Hanbin, that is.

After changing, you enter the practice room, ready to forget your worries. But before you can begin, you see a paper stuck on the wall beside the door—Hanbin must’ve finally put together the choreo for the solo and duet performances for an upcoming recital for some event on campus (truthfully, you can't be bothered to remember all the details, that's Hanbin's job), and decided on who’d best fit the roles. You’re a little late, so it’s just you who curiously shuffles over to take a look.

Seeing your name under Duet makes you smile until you read your counterpart's name. Gunwook Park.

You find a spot to sink to the floor in the back of the room. Suddenly, you’ve changed your perspective on dancing; it’s the worst thing to happen to you. You regret ever discovering this useless passion of yours, who even needs passions in this economy?!

Hanbin would tell you otherwise, but you believe that you have pretty good ideas.

You’d tried to take an easier route and complain to Hanbin that you absolutely could not work with Gunwook for a duet. But he was adamant about not making any alterations at this point, at least not just because you don’t like Gunwook—what a traitor, what happened to friendship?

Since complaining about your unfair working conditions did fuck all, you came up with a wonderful solution. You get paired with the number one person on your shit list? Just don’t show up to rehearsals. Boom, problem solved. Though it’s easier said than done; you’re a creature of habit, and the disappointment of remembering you can’t destress with dance is depressing.

And, of course, avoiding both Hanbin and Gunwook is a chore.

It’s on day four that you consider, maybe Hanbin is right sometimes. You were only successful in avoiding everything except schoolwork because college kicks everyone’s ass, and finding free time starts to feel like finding a needle in a haystack. But, maybe ditching practice when you live with the leader of your dance team wasn’t your best idea. On Sundays, both you and Hanbin usually end up being home at the same time.

And like an idiot, you forget this detail and trudge out of your room at two in the afternoon (no, you certainly did not just wake up, thank you very much) to find something acceptable to eat.

As you’re rummaging through the pantry, you hear your name called in that tone. The one where Hanbin’s voice sounds mildly shrill and a bit patronizing, the one that lets you know you’re in trouble.

Yeah, not your brightest idea—it might take over the number two spot of your top three worst ideas, followed by trying to gaslight a random group of people into believing that Play-doh is edible after you’d had a drink too many at your first college party at number one. (To be fair, you did not expect a twenty-something-year-old man to have Play-Doh on hand and tell you to prove it. Yes, you tried. You vomited on the guy’s shoes.)

Rigidly, you slowly turn to face Hanbin, who has a terse smile on his face.

“...Yes?”

“I thought maybe you hadn’t shown up to rehearsals because you weren’t feeling well, but yesterday, Gunwook told me every time he spotted you on campus, you naruto-ran away.”

“Uh,” you fake cough into your elbow, “Must’ve been someone that looks like me? ‘Cause I have been feeling kind of under the we—”

You shriek and make a run for it when Hanbin stomps over with that creepy hamster puppet you’d given him as a gag gift last year in hand. Eventually, you get cornered and get a creepy hamster puppet thrown in your face. “You can’t just ditch practice because you have some petty one-sided rivalry—or whatever it is—with Gunwook. You’re risking embarrassing the whole team! What are you planning to do, just not learn the choreography?”

“You know it's not a rivalry...” You grumble.

“You’re being childish,” Hanbin sighs, “I’ve already told you that whatever your deal is with Gunwook is some misunderstanding, he’s a sweet guy.”

“Yeah, whatever.” You huff, probably not helping the childish accusation. You’re tired of hearing that about what a good guy Gunwook appears to be because you know what you heard.

Without another word, you stomp off to your room.

If you had any hopes of getting out of going to rehearsal again, they’re promptly stomped on by Hanbin waiting outside of your class when you trudge out.

“Really?” You groan, and walk over to your supposed friend, “You don’t need to escort me.”

“I think I do,” Hanbin crosses his arms, fixing you with a look, like he knows you better than yourself… okay, he does ninety percent of the time, but that doesn’t mean he can act like it. “I’m pretty sure I saw you ready to head in the wrong direction before you saw me.” He says before grabbing your arm and pulling you down the hall.

“I don’t even get what your deal is with Gunwook,” Hanbin finally says when you’re about halfway to the studio, “I know you said you heard him say something… unsavory, but that just doesn’t sound like him at all. I think you should talk to him, I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding.”

“I know what I heard, Bin…”

“I’m not saying you didn’t hear what you heard, but maybe there’s some missing context.”

You try to consider Hanbin’s words, even as you absentmindedly head into the changing rooms, and reluctantly shuffle into the practice room afterward, you truly do. 

But all the rational thinking and breathing techniques in the world cannot quell your ire when you see Gunwook. Calmly walking over and refraining from saying anything uncouth is a true test of mental strength—one that you are quite afraid of failing.

“Hey—” Gunwook rises from his spot in the corner of the practice room to greet you.

“Let’s get started.” You blurt out, aware of how cold and biting your dismissal comes off. To be fair, Hanbin didn’t tell you to be particularly nice, he just insisted you show up.

“Oh, right,” Gunwook’s expression wilts, but he clears his throat and plasters a polite smile on his face. “I’m sure Hanbin already let you know he wouldn’t be here to help us out today—he’s helping Natty with her solo. I’ve got the choreo down, so I should be able to guide you if needed.”

“I practiced at home.”  You did. A little bit, it wasn’t easy with the limited space in your cramped—ahem, homey apartment. But practicing a duet by yourself, then giving up after stubbing your toe on every fucking piece of furniture in your home, and practicing it with your duet partner are two different things.

“Oh, that’s good… um, I’ll start the music.”

Your name is followed by an exasperated sigh. With reluctance—because your phone’s home screen is just that interesting—you glance up from your phone, to see Gunwook eyeing you through the mirror. 

“Could we try to get through the routine? Maybe without you scratching me this time?” Gunwook gnaws at his bottom lip, sweat beading at his temple. He’s actually been hard at work, practicing while you sat in the corner of the room—essentially sentenced to a time-out after accidentally scratching Gunwook every time you tried to run through the routine with him. Accidentally.

You can’t help the frown that sets on your lips. Only to you, it seems, Gunwook Park is an enigma. When he first joined the team, he seemed nice, and he wasn’t much younger than you, you just never got the chance to properly talk to him. However, now you never want to speak to him, the fact that you have to work so closely with him is nauseating.

Tampering down all the ugly word vomit bubbling in your throat, you mentally repeat Hanbin’s words from yesterday to yourself, ‘You’re risking embarrassing the whole team’. Not only do you find most of your teammates to be more than bearable, but you also you can’t bomb a performance because you were too petty to practice the choreography, so, even though the thought of being so close to Gunwook—having to touch him makes you full body cringe, you suck it up.

“Sure.”

Begrudgingly, you get into position and wait for your cue. As the music starts up for what feels like the billionth time that evening, you miss the many nervous glances cast your way.

Succeedingly, you manage to not cause any more bodily harm, even when you have no choice but to get close enough to Gunwook to the point you cannot look anywhere but into his eyes. The urge to flee strikes, as unease among other odd emotions you will not address churn in your gut, but you deal with it (read: ignore it).

You manage to run through the routine once, then again, and again, and again, until your limbs feel like gelatin and you have no option but to sprawl out on the floor. It occurs to you how much you missed this feeling, you can barely believe you let your pettiness get in the way of it.

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

Turning your head to the side, there’s Gunwook, also sprawled out beside you. Huh, you don’t even have the negative energy within you to loathe his presence in the moment.

“You just did. But you can ask one more thing.”

A goofy grin splits Gunwook’s lips before he turns his head back to face the ceiling, expression shifting a little more seriously. “Did I… was there something that I like did? Or said to upset you?”

Oh. Right. So, you haven’t forgotten your distaste for Gunwook. You feel your good mood sour, as you scoff, and force yourself to finally sit up—your limbs are very much protesting, screaming at you, matter of fact, but fuck them. And fuck Gunwook Park. “Seriously?”

You glance over your shoulder, Gunwook, who sat up shortly after you, only blinks at you curiously, as though he hasn’t got a clue.

“You really don’t know? Do you just talk shit about everyone and that’s why you can’t seem to remember me?”

“What…?” Gunwook’s brows furrow, “What are you talking about?”

“I heard you." You push yourself up off the ground, fixing Gunwook with an exasperated look, "After our performance at orientation in August, you had a lot to say about my skill, and how ridiculous I looked.”

“I don't…?” You watch as the confusion and then the recognition passes over Gunwook’s features, “No, I—shit,” he hangs his head with a groan, which doesn’t serve to dissipate any of your arising confusion. “That wasn’t about you.”

“I heard you say my name, don’t bullshit me.”

“I—okay, I definitely said your name, but it seriously wasn’t about you. There was this, um, character in a film my roommate watched for some project; they were supposed to be a dancer, but they were godawful. I was talking about the character, and I didn’t even think about how they had the same name as you, or about how loudly I was talking about that.”

“Oh,” you say, rather intelligently. You consider the thought that he could be lying, but he looks at you with such earnestness, remorse practically pooling in his eyes, you can’t even entertain the thought for more than a moment.

“Yeah, oh. I’m sorry you thought I was talking about you…”

“No, I’m sorry,” you quietly sit back down, anger gone as quick as it arose, and flop back on the floor with a sigh. Having your entire view of Gunwook Park debunked in a mere minute was not on tonight’s bingo card.

“I should’ve—Hanbin kept telling me it was probably a misunderstanding and to confront you, but I just stewed in my misguided hatred. God, Hanbin’s going to be insufferable once I tell him he was right all along.”

Gunwook huffs a laugh, “I’m glad we sorted this out, finally. Um, I guess we should wrap up for tonight since it’s getting late. Can I walk you home?”

“Don’t you live on campus? You don’t have to walk me home if you just have to walk back here…”

“It’s fine!” Gunwook smiles, oddly enthusiastic. Weird, personally, you dread having to walk home after practice. “I want to, and I guess now we can get to know each other? Now that you don’t hate me.”

“Yeah… okay, I’ll grab my stuff.” You sit back up again, as much as you’d like to become one with the floor.

“Okay, cool.”

“Cool.” you can’t help but smile, seeing the wide grin on Gunwook’s face. You’re going to choose to believe the warmth in your cheeks is because you’re still cooling off from rehearsing.

The idea of rehearsing is a lot more palatable now that you don’t despise your duet partner. The actual rehearsals aren’t too bad either… they’re actually kind of enjoyable.

Hanbin was, in fact, very insufferable when you spilled everything that’d happened that day to him. He’d been waiting up for you, sitting on the armchair in your living room, and nearly gave you a heart attack when he flicked on the lamp beside him; like he was your mother and he’d caught you sneaking back in the house.

“Hey, how was class?” Gunwook has taken to waiting for you outside your classes on rehearsal days, you even say hi to each other when you see the other on campus, and maybe talk if you’re not busy.

“Don’t get me started…” you groan, “I have no idea what my professor was on about today, but I thought his jaw was going to unhinge before he finally stopped talking.”

Gunwook chuckles, and grabs your bag from you, cradling it to his chest. “I thought I told you I could carry my bag myself?”

“And I told you that you could try to take it back.” 

You did try, and you decided you do not like freakishly strong guys. “Whatever… what about you? How was your class?”

“Didn’t go today…” Gunwook trails off, glancing down at your linked arms. A habit after losing Hanbin in crowds one too many times. It feels nice with Gunwook, though. “Um, my roommate—” he clears his throat before he continues looking forward, revealing his red ears. Oh, that’s cute.

“He kept me up late ‘cause he needed help with his film project that he’s been procrastinating. I ended up waking up at like one-thirty…”

“Really? So, you just came straight here after waking up?” You tsk, choosing to look away from his pouted lips for your sake. “Did you even eat? Let’s stop by this café a few blocks away before we rehearse. It opened last month, Hanbin and I were supposed to check it out, but I think he forgot.”

You’re not blind, of course, Gunwook is, well, objectively attractive (subjectively as well, perchance). With much coaxing, you might’ve been able to admit it a week ago when you hated him. But, his attractiveness is far too illuminated when you’re a mere inches from his face; faced with his distractingly pretty brown eyes, and rosy cheeks. Oh God, he’s cute. He’s so fucking cute, and you are so fucking screwed.

Before you can say something so embarrassing you’d have to migrate to another country and assume another identity, you take the initiative to part from Gunwook, carefully backing away, and clearing your throat, “Should we take a break?”

Except that doesn’t even help, because when you sink to the floor to watch YouTube, Gunwook is beside you, smushed at your side to watch whatever you’re watching. You can’t even remember what video you tapped on, but apparently, you’re seven minutes into a video when Gunwook reaches over to pause it.

“Hey, um, one of my friends—his name’s Junhyeon, his frat, Zeta Rho Xi is having a party this weekend. He kinda roped me into going, and I was just wondering if you were free…? I would, um, it’d be cool if you could stop by.”

Parties haven’t been your thing for a long time; you tried to party freshman year, since people seemed to go on about the college parties. You just couldn’t get super into it, plus only things like the Play-Doh incident came from parties… and that’s why you’re not sure why you say, “Yeah, no, I should be free. I’ll check it out.”

You aren't even free, you have an essay you’ve written approximately two sentences for that happens to be due Monday. But the smile on Gunwook’s face makes agreeing feel like the right choice.

Immediately upon stepping inside, you remember why you hate parties. One, you lose Hanbin instantly. Two, trying to push through a bunch of sweaty, drunk people (who are surprisingly sturdy) is a pain in the ass. And three, it’s loud, you already feel like you need a drink. Or maybe three.

You manage to make it to a mostly empty kitchen, and at that point, you’ve lost any motivation to go search for Hanbin or even Gunwook. For the most part, you’ve given up caring about being ‘lame’, so, you’re perfectly content sitting in the kitchen on your phone at a party while sipping on possibly the worst quality beer you’ve tasted in your twenty years of life.

It’s maybe thirty minutes until you finally look up from your phone at the call of your name over the ear-damaging volume of music.

Hanbin stumbles into the kitchen, using Gunwook as support. You can make out your friend’s flushed cheeks, even in the dim lighting, you have no idea how he’s gotten drunk so fast. “There you are! I found Gunwookie, it looked like he was waitin’ around for you, ‘cause he was just in a corner lookin’ around… didn’t you guys exchange numbers?”

“I already told you I forgot to ask…” Gunwook mumbles.

“Oh,” Hanbin lets go of Gunwook to slide up beside you, “Hey, did you know that, um—” Gunwook rushes over to slap a hand over Hanbin’s mouth, are they both drunk? It’s more difficult to tell with Gunwook, his cheeks always look pink…

Hanbin removes Gunwook’s hand with a glare, “Don’t interrupt me,” he chides, as sternly as he can while drunk. “Anyway, ‘m so glad you two figured things out. I hope Gunwook tells you about his massive heart boner for you.”

Hanbin makes it probably ten times worse by continuing, “He’s—he’s had such a big crush on you since like, um, since like the millisecond he joined the team. But this whole time you thought he was mean to you, isn’t that silly?”

What isn’t silly is the look on Gunwook’s face, he looks positively mortified.

“...Okay, Bin, I think you’re ready to go home already,” you smile tersely, side-stepping the topic for now, maybe forever actually. “Gunwook, can you help me with him?” You ignore Hanbin’s slurred protests. It must take a moment for Gunwook to recoup before he’s at Hanbin’s other side, helping you pull the drunkard up.

You avoid looking in Gunwook’s direction, despite the fact you can feel him burning holes into the side of your head. Of course, there’s no avoiding the conversation—inevitably, you’re going to have to talk to Gunwook about what Hanbin said, but maybe you can get out of it tonight…?

It’s not that you’re particularly afraid… okay, well, you are, except it’s just unnecessary anxiety. Now you feel better about admitting to yourself that you’re interested in Gunwook. But what if Hanbin’s drunk rambling was just drunk rambling, and it was all nonsense? Well, Gunwook probably wouldn’t seem so nervous if that were the case, but maybe he’s nervous because he just doesn’t want you to be under the impression that he—

“Oh, hey, I’ve been looking everywhere for Hanbin…”

“Oh, Hao, hey.” you mentally thank Hao for unknowingly rescuing you from spiraling into your annoyingly irrational train of thought.

“Do you want me to take him off your hands? We were planning to ditch before he disappeared.”

Okay, time to put on your big person pants and be an adult. “Yeah, thanks.” Handing Hanbin off is pretty easy, the man completely unbothered that he’s thrown two of his protégés for a loop (he’ll probably feel a lot worse about it tomorrow, especially when he’s hungover). What’s less easy, is being left with Gunwook.

“Well, since Hanbin aired everything out…”

“Right, yeah. We should talk, maybe outside?”

Gunwook nods, leading the way to the back door, you follow closely behind him. As not to lose him in the clusters of people, and maybe just because you want to, you grab onto his arm.

Outside, your eardrums thank you for finally getting out of there, though your nervous heart is another story, rattling against your ribcage incessantly. Warily, you avoid looking at Gunwook, distancing yourself a good few feet away from him, “So…”

“I like you,” Gunwook blurts as if he won’t get another chance to say so, “like a lot. I initially joined the team ‘cause of you actually, I hadn’t even danced since middle school. But you were so—watching you on stage at orientation felt so… enchanting.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks at Gunwook’s flattery, and he only continues, “I thought you were perfect, so obviously I immediately signed up for the dance team, even though I wasn’t even sure if I was any good at it anymore, just so I could have an excuse to see you. Only for me to never gain the courage to even talk to you…” Staring at the wooden planks of the porch beneath your feet, you see Gunwook’s beaten-up Converse come into view, urging you to look up again.

“Gunwook, I—”

“It’s okay if you don’t feel anything like that for me, I just can’t let the what-ifs get in the way of me trying anymore.” Oh, how could you not feel something for him? Surely anyone could fall for him just by staring into his pretty brown eyes.

The weird feeling in your gut, which must be those butterflies people talk about, amplifies, you think you’d have to be a fool if you didn’t feel something for Gunwook Park. “I don’t… not feel something,” you hastily avert your gaze, “I guess I’m not entirely sure what it is, but I am interested in you. I, um, would be open to exploring that.”

“I understand—wait, you… really?”

You look up in time to see the overjoyed grin split Gunwook’s lips. It’s infectious, you can’t help but mirror his smile, laugh tumbling past your lips, “Yes, you dork. You better sweep me off my feet.”  You playfully shove at his shoulder.

“I will,” Gunwook grabs your wrist before you drop your arm, thumbing at the inside of it, “are you free tomorrow?”

“I…” You aren’t free, remember that pesky essay of yours? “Yeah, I am.” Oh, well, you suppose it can wait; likely until tomorrow night, when you finally open your laptop at eleven-thirty at night, when it happens to be due at midnight. You happen to work great under pressure!

“Perfect, can I pick you up at your place at two?”

“Sure, are you gonna remember to ask for my number this time, though?” You tease, making a ‘give me’ motion with your free hand.

Gunwook’s cheeks somehow get pinker, as he finally lets go of your wrist and retrieves his phone from his pocket, handing it over with the new contact screen open. Quickly, you type in your number and then your name, cheekily adding a heart beside it.

“Can I walk you home? Or, uh, if you wanted to go back to the party, that’s fine too…”

“Nah,” you’d rather do just about anything else than go back into that mess, you’ve had enough parties for the rest of your college life, “I’m pretty tired, and I have a super important date with a great guy tomorrow.”

With a coy smile to match Gunwook’s shy one, you cozy up to his side and link arms with him, “Let’s go?”

You’d still consider dancing to be a great way to unwind—still one of your favorites, it's just been demoted to second place.

Nothing ebbs away your stress like Gunwook popping into your room with your favorite food after you’ve been staring at your laptop screen for hours as if you were hoping your assignments would finish themselves. Or his hugs—always so warm, it’s like hugging an oversized stuffed bear. Or just… him.

Unrivaled after several years, dancing has finally met its match: Gunwook Park.

[princessbiteme0o0]

Hi okay so I know you were kinda on a schlatt writing kick BUT I have a swagger thought...okay imagine you're dating swagger but you don't do the weed (I'm not self inserting what are you talking about) or you do but very little and you accidentally take a pretty strong edible (I watched ted earlier leave me alone) and swags has to like protect you and help you feel better because you're freaking out

(HAHAHAHAHHA LITTLE DID YOU KNOW- I stopped smoking weed bc of panic attacks and now deal with a severe panic disorder, so this is perrrrrfeeeect for me. I’m not the best with fluff, so fair warning. Also, Swagger and Schlatt both are on my mind in a little loop hehehe)

I Promise You’re Not Gonna Die (SwaggerSouls x Reader)

Summary: Ya done fucked up cuh.

WARNINGS: Swearing, Drug use, Panic attacks

—🌸—🌸—

“Do you feel ready to smoke again yet, Honey?” Eric asked from where he sat comfortably on his couch.

“Not just yet.” She hummed softly from her place on the kitchen as she cooked dinner. Swagger nodded, more so to himself, and then sparked up. Rifling through the kitchen cabinets as the pasta cooked on the stove, she looked around for a snack. Finding some gummy bears in the cabinet, she ate six of them before going back to cooking and deciding to wait for real food when they didn’t fill her up. Eric slipped into the kitchen after smoking, the whites of his gorgeous brown eyes a shade of red. When his eyes caught a glimpse of the baggie of gummy bears on the counter, his heart dropped.

“Baby, how many of those did you eat?” Eric asks softly, moving to stand behind her, letting his fingers ghost up and down her arms. She simply shrugs at him and turns her head back to look at him.

“I think six?” There’s a question in her tone, but he doesn’t answer, kissing her forehead.

“You mind if I stay in here with you?” Giving him a soft smile, she nods and leans back into his arms as she stirs the pasta sauce. Not even ten minutes later, the drugs start to take their effect, making her shiver slightly.

“I feel funny.” She mumbles out from between his arms.

“Baby… Those gummy bears were 100 milligram edibles.” He speaks softly and her heart jumps into her throat.

“I- What?” Her entire body goes cold and then warm and then cold again as her heart races and her head becomes dizzy. Eric carefully reaches past her and turns off the stove, gently lifting her arms away from the hot pans as he can feel the panic coming off of her in waves.

“It’ll be okay, Hon. I’m not gonna let anything happen.” He murmurs into her hair, kissing her temple.

“Eric- I’m- I’m scared.” She stutters out, tears welling up in her eyes as she goes into a full blown panic attack.

“Shh, I’m right here.” He gently shushes her, carefully picking her up and carrying her out of the kitchen.

“I feel like I’m gonna die.” She whispers into his neck as the tears roll freely down her cheek, her lower lip quaking.

“You’re gonna be okay, you’re not gonna die, baby. It’s just the weed.” He hums, laying her in their shared bed and peppering kisses all over her face. “We just need to get something to eat for your little tummy and you’ll feel all better.” His hand is gently massaging her belly as he placed gentle kisses all over her face and neck. Letting out a soft huff, she nods and he leaves the room for a few moments, before returning with some food for her. Sitting down on the bed beside her, he helps her sit up and slowly scoops the food onto a fork, holding it out for her to eat.

“Thank you…” She mumbles shakily.

“It’s alright, Cutie. We will get some food on your stomach and put on one of your favorite movies and I’ll lay here with you until you feel all better.” He smiles warmly as she eats the food off of the fork. Once she’s finished her food, he sits the plate aside and slides into bed behind her, turning on the TV and playing her favorite TV show. Wrapping his arms around her, he nuzzled her neck and placed warm kisses against her skin.

“I love you.” She mumbles softly as her eyes start to feel heavy.

“I love you too, Sweetheart.”

[michelleelizabethtanner]

Do you ever just wish Rio got to see that batshit insane side of Beth she showed the audience? Like it’s less about comedy and more about the tension when it’s just them two, I get that, but she has such golden moments it’s almost a loss we didn’t see his reaction or anything.

Like when they were trying to smuggle boomer to him and he wasn’t complying so she held his grandmas ashes over a dumpster and threatened for that to be the final resting place- fuckinf insane and i love her for it. In my imaginary season 5 because Annie is in jail and Ruby isn’t around to rein in the crazy, I could see her going completely violent in her attempts to get Annie out of prison- she probably spirals and everything but while he’s trying to get his lawyer on the case and get Annie a retrial- she’s trying to bribe to inmates to start a prison riot so Annie can sneak out or some shit

I love her crazy side sm

You’re cracking me up. 😂 Because you’re right, how does he think she achieves all this stuff she keeps doing? Like, he’s had little glimpses. For example, her initial store robbery. I wish they would have kept the scene where he saw her on the security cameras. How she kicked that display over. I’m sure he was like, “Wow, what a woman.” 🤣🤣 And then when she got his Canadian printshop contact shot in the foot, but managed to bring in his funny money on time still, and not get caught. I just wonder what he thought of that. Trying to smooth it over with Mike like, “I’ll up your cut. I got some new bitches.” I’m sure that man is fully aware that she’s absolutely batshit. And he loves it.

Although, is Rio really any better? He’s fucking bananas, too. How he just brought her a gun in a paper bag while taking his son to the park. Or when he hid in a Corvette to spy on her and Dean. And then smashed up Dean’s prized possession. (Hehh, two of them. He smashed Beth, too. She just wasn’t as valuable to Dean as that cheesy bucket.) Don’t even mention the body parts he FedExed to her. Probably kept the tracking number, just in case. And how she was all, “He wants me back 🥰” instead of maybe like, “He’s crazy,” or, “Wow, this man is really unhinged, I should maybe stay away from him permanently.” Nope. She accepted them like they were an Edible Arrangement.

They know they’re both crazy. Just humping on Grandma’s bookshelf with the door open and Rio’s son right outside. Considering that the bathroom was right across the hall and they could have easily gone in there like normal people. Nope. He just stuffed his whole hand under her dress and then wiped it on Grandma’s wall afterwards. I wonder if she went back out to the party to get her purse? How embarrassing would that be? She took forever in “the bathroom,” and now she and Rio are walking out just minutes apart. She’s really fair so her chest was probably all red from sex flush. She probably said she had diarrhea, grabbed her boxy little purse, forgot her cardigan, and peeled out of that place ASAP as possible. 😂😂😂

[alolanrain]

Can I

PLEASE

Have more stoner ash headcanons pls

absolutely you can!! stoner Ash is my shit. I'm also adding my Ta!Au to this because thats my og stoner Ash.

Cilan is the first one to introduce Ash after he fucks around in a very muddy pond and finds out that he shouldn't do that after getting his ass kicked by a Seismitoad.

it's one of the most comfortable experiences Ash has ever had. his brain was quite, he didn't feel the need to run everywhere or be the first in anything, and he could ignore the pain from the multitude of bruises.

Cilan made an extra big dinner that night, as he didn't know if Ash would get the munchies or not

spoiler: he did and asked for snacks directly after dinner.

Ash is of age for Unova's marijuana laws so he follows after Cilan to a dispensary where the older boy imparts some hella wisdom onto him.

they take like a full hour of just looking around before they even considering buying anything. the guy a the cashier register kinda hates them but understands that Ash is new to this whole thing

"why do you know all about this?" "I'm the youngest child of triplets and we run a gym and a restaurant together at the same time." "... fair enough"

Cilan is a lot more open and sassy in general when he's not sober so it was fun going to a restaurant and just letting Cilan mutter some hot shit about the cutlery, the other customers, how the building isn't up to code. you name it.

edibles also quickly become Ash's favorite thing after he gets the best night of sleep he's had in a very long time.

Kalos was a fun time.

not really.

it was weird to heart Bonnie and Clemont almost... idolize him as he's smoking a blunt around the corner before they head into the Pokémon center or the hotel for the night.

it got even harder for him to get into the Kalosian dispensary's because Bonnnie was eager to stick by Ash's side and Clemont wasn't going to let his little sister out of his sight.

he managed, somehow.

Serena as a whole was a very touch and go situation for a while.

she grew up in a very purist type home so she was shocked and disgusted that Ash would even consider smoking in general.

let alone the devil lettuces

Ash couldn't give a Rattata's ass but stayed respectful to Serena's wishes on not wanting to see Ash do it while she's around him

the problem? she very rarely seemed to leave his side.

Professor Sycamore hooked him up with some homemade edibles that he made at his own personal lab, not the one he uses for actual regional professor shit.

it's actually funny because a lot of Kalosian officials smoke or do edibles and it takes everything in Ash not to cackle violently when he finds out.

it was really weird to be in a group passing a blunt between him, Professor Sycamore, Steven, and Alain.

it is still, to this day, the most chaotic group of stoners Ash has ever been in.

Kukui is very open about being a stoner towards Ash after he finds out that he does it as well. using the breadbox as his stash location that Ash totally doesn't steal an edible from time to time.

it quickly becomes a ritual that they get high together at least once per weekend.

it was an experience and a heart attack at once when Burnet walked in on them mid bowl. Kukui ended up cooking until he was about to pass out and Ash nocked his head against the doorway from just how high he jumped. He’s around 6’-ish or a little less.

She asked if she could join them next time.

It was just the trio for a while before Olivia would randomly pop up.

It was HELLA weird the first few times, as Ash and her didn’t along for a while. Eventually they agreed not to speak about what happened on her island and to not be so pissed at each other as well.

True neutrality between those two.

There has not been one day on Alola that Ash has actually felt at peace. The kids torment him on and off the clock, so a lot of times he’s forced out into public by them while fucking gone.

Ash doesn’t know how he survives but it feels like a heart attack the entire fucking time.

He’s grumpy and hangery and Ash has Lillie, Mallow, and Lana pulling him around young teen jewelry and clothe shops.

His style of clothing is completely different from the girls. They got their color and the teenage girl charm but Ash is a mix of streatwear and pajama’s.

meeting Viren while costing off the high from the night before was Weird.

10/10 would beat his ass without hesitation, this is’t really a stoner one but just principle.

[sylvidoptera]

A second coming out...

...and it's just as loud as the first one was.

(Warning: I get really philosophical and introspective when the edibles kick in. Only fair to let you know.)

ANYWAY... I was just sitting here thinking about how often I mention my OCD and ADHD over the last couple of years. I'm going to be 49 years old in a few days, and so it was quite a revelation to find out that two short groups of letters could explain so much about My.ENTIRE.Life.

So of course I'm going to talk about it a lot as I go through my day and consciously notice the behaviors, traits, habits, etc. that belong under the umbrella of those two disorders. Other people might get tired of hearing about it, but it's impossible to not be gobsmacked and want to share how much you're learning about yourself and the revelation that you're not broken, lazy, weird, or wrong... just different.

Which got me thinking about how, in the early 90s, I saw several friends go from in the closet to FLAMBOYANTLY out. It was like when the switch flipped, there was no dimmer... it went from being in the dark to having your entire being shine because you were so freaking relieved to have a word - and other people - that you could see yourself in. Something that acknowledged that how you felt was real and it wasn't wrong, because you weren't alone.

I came out as bisexual when I was 16. My parents proceeded to inform me that it was a "bid for attention from boys" and "a phase that will pass" and "just trying to shock people". Which only made me want to be even louder about it because I was tired of hiding who I was to fit in to others' expectations.

When I started mentioning my OCD/ADHD (and lately, as I've been researching and listening to therapists, the realization I am likely at least slightly autistic), my parents once again are rolling their eyes at the idea that their child is different in a "bad" way. The only way their child should be different is being more attractive and intelligent than others. Any of my "problems" were just a lack of discipline and the letters are just excuses.

Fuck that noise. I'm going to drown it out with my growing knowledge of myself. I'm going to be "loud and proud" and I am not going to let anyone tell me that I'm broken ever again.

Now if I could just remember what task I was doing before my ADHD kicked in and I came over to write this post...

[triggerlil]

ficlet: don't look back in anger

Marlene/Dorcas | 698 words | also on AO3

Written for @420maraudersfest 🍃

tags: muggle AU, sad with a happy ending, grief/mourning, wakes & funerals, implied bad parenting, implied religious guilt, mention of car crash, referenced homophobia, getting together, marijuana use, marauders

When Marlene smoked, she became obsessive—needed a task to pour her soul into. Whatever she chose for the night would have her unwavering devotion, even if only for a brief moment. Perhaps that was why Dorcas wouldn’t leave her mind. 

It was autumn when it all happened.

Marlene couldn’t handle her parents’ funeral while sober. To be fair, she wasn’t sure she’d been sober since they’d died. A blue Ford Cortina crinkled in an unlucky accident, and she’d been made an orphan overnight. During the wake, behind her parents’ house, she measured time in deep inhales and coughing exhales. It made people clasping her hands and saying things like they’d keep her in their prayers slightly less awful.

Of the visitors and mourners, Dorcas was the only one who didn’t offer empty condolences. Her eyes were hard when she touched Marlene’s shoulder and moved on. Head buzzing, Marlene’s gaze followed Dorcas for the rest of the night. She sensed that they were similar in some way, built from the same stone. She was still watching her when Lily, whose cheeks were wet, came up and hugged her. She should’ve been crying too, but she couldn’t. Over Lily’s shoulder, she watched Dorcas talk to Remus, and kept her arms at her sides while Lily held her tightly. 

Later, wrapped in the dark, Marlene lay awake and stared at the ceiling. Her aunt was asleep in her parents’ room. They hadn’t spoken as they cleaned up together, but Marlene could sense the disappointment. Her parents deserved a better daughter. Yet, between the waves of grief and guilt that kept her awake, she found she could think of nothing but Dorcas.

The next morning, a familiar ghost lurked along the edges of her consciousness, but eventually, even that faded. 

It was a few weeks after the funeral before Lily could finally lure her out. They smoked a joint while walking to the bar and then crammed into a tiny booth with Mary and Pandora. Before Marlene had finished her first drink, Remus and Sirius came in tow with Dorcas. Marlene watched her walk all the way over, catching her eye as she sat down. 

“Hey, Marlene.” Dorcas gave her a small smile. 

The chatter of their friends and blaring music nearly drowned out their voices, but Marlene and Dorcas didn’t leave the booth at all that night. They talked until their throats were hoarse. Until Lily and Mary were dragging Marlene back to their flat. 

After that, it was happening constantly. She ran into Dorcas everywhere, until soon they were making plans to run into each other. They studied together, doing their own things, Marlene sipping a coffee, and Dorcas drinking green tea. They smoked and stayed up late watching movies, talking side by side on the bed until they fell asleep. 

When they weren’t together, Dorcas was trapped like a vision of perfection behind Marlene’s closed eyes. She swayed against the half-dark like a spectre, constantly haunting her in sleep and waking. She hadn’t imagined it would turn out like this, but with her parents gone, who was she hiding from? That old bastard and awful hag were six feet under; she had no one to answer to. Realising she was in love with Dorcas felt like beautiful revenge. Her parents had tried to destroy this part of her, and those cunts had fucking failed. 

Once she’d thought of it, Marlene could barely hold herself back. The words were on the tip of her tongue every time they were together. When they lay on Dorcas’s bed, giggling like school girls once the edibles kicked in, or when they were surrounded by friends passing blunts back and forth. When they were completely sober, sitting on the bus to the library, sunshine illuminating Dorcas’s profile—rounded nose and full cheeks, a million earrings on just the one ear, hair tied into a knot revealing the smooth nape of her neck. 

Marlene had the good sense to wait until they were back at Dorcas’s flat, cooking dinner together in the kitchen as if they were already a couple. 

“Dorcas.”

Turning away from the stove, Dorcas smiled as if she knew what was coming.

[iturmom]

I can't live like this. I was basically given no option but to walk 4 miles with my back pack that's like 50lbs just to get breakfast here at the shelter because of a series of oppressive rules put in place for literally no reason other than to make things as hard as possible for homeless people.

And then. I understand I am at a homeless shelter. I really don't expect much. BUT. when you serve hundreds of people moldy and rotten fruit like this fruit was not early in the decomposition phase. That is incredibly irresponsible like they're trying to kill us! I mean it too, some of these people you know may not have enough good sense not to eat it. Can't like a cup of very rotten fruit potentially be deadly??

some of the fruit/ parts were edible. The grapes appear in the pictures as if they are holding their form on their own but I assure you it's just a trap. And I swear I took another picture of the watermelon where I was holding it and you could see how it is structurally little more than goo but idk it must not have taken. I will say there was actually one big strawberry that was perfectly ripe but like. That's not a lot of nutrition. You serve desperate people food that could kill them potentially? It's so sick. it's fucking sickening.

I can't fucking live like this. I can't handle this shit with my trauma. I cannot endure the physical stress that they needlessly put me through here. It's disturbing me and it's miserable that I have to carry anything that I could potentially need on my back whatever distance I may need to walk I'm either a pack mule or I'm trapped!! WHEN THEY HAVE LOCKERS HERE FOR THIS PURPOSE BUT I CAN'T HAVE ONE. So I burden my friend with keeping my stuff in her car even though she has enough going on. but for the record she's good with boundaries and I know she wouldn't do anything she's uncomfortable with she just wants to help and I appreciate it but I don't want to be a burden. Also it's inconvenient for me too bc I don't have keys to her car. And that's a fair trade off for throwing it away but I would much prefer to be able to have full authority over my belongings how entitled of me.

I don't deserve this shit if I had not been repeatedly beaten up and robbed I would be able to afford to stay somewhere until I get my feet on the ground. I do not deserve to be punished for being a victim! This is so fucking evil and it's eating me alive that I am forced to live like this as punishment for being abused in every different category of abuse and for being disabled which was 100% caused by the systematic evils.

I am not being kicked while I am down I am being fucking run over by a bus like why do I deserve this what did I do to deserve this why are they doing this to me why am I forced to live like this against my will?

[princess-pill-enjoyer]

I didn't think I'd really need to come back here after everything. It's so stupid. My dad has given me my own weed and it is way stronger than the pills. So many different ways it affects me. But I've been mostly sober since the attempt that started all this. Ig partially out of respect.. I feel like it wouldn't be fair to my parents if I continue my junkie ways after they had to listen to me scream and yell about how I felt trapped and then when things open up, boom still doing it

I dunno if that makes sense tbh.. lemme know ik I suck at explaining things correctly.

Anyway I've been sober 99% of the time since. I kinda don't like smoking as much now. It made my teeth hurt and I hallucinate when I get high. It's nothing crazy no where near as vivid the dph hallucinations get ofc. Tho it still scares me so bad. It can range anywhere to a few small & constant noises that makes everything hard to hear unless I'm focusing to hallucinations that put me in a state of delusion. I get so scared about ts I can't move. 9 times out of 10 I get this weird feeling someone or something is there and if I make a sound they'll come up to me. Those are the worst feeling ones dude I know there's no reason for me to assume anything is there but I just stiff up and cry as quietly as I can until I can work up the courage to check if they're "still there"

I used to do that when I was coming down from benadryl actually. I'd be too forgetful to be scared of anything like that mid high but all hell broke once it was wearing off

It makes me so annoyed. It makes me wonder if that's something I'll just have to deal with from here on or should I just stay sober from here on and hope for the best. It all makes me miss the pills so fucking bad. I was taking those for so long and it just felt like I knew pretty much anyway they'd effect me atp. It was straightforward

Dph made my heartbeat harder -> also made my heart sore when I'm not on it

The pills dehydrated me -> annnd if I took it too far, I'd go acidic and jaundice (which im ngl happened way more often than I wanted to admit.. when I tried to od again in December I was quite literally neon!)

Taking so many at once making my stomach have to dissolve anywhere from four to high twenties worth of pills at a time -> which led my stomach to get irritated and eager to get that shit out and made various issues there

But now? What. I don't even have anyway to measure so it's just a thing of.. o guess it kicked in, ig I can't hear rn. Oop dang ig I got too high now I physically have to focus on not freaking out over something that is not fucking happening. Oh what ig these stupid fucking edibles make my head hurt instead of making me high. Fun!!

I'm so over this shit. Im trying so hard to stay away. I didn't like dph after a while. You can scroll back and see so many things I hated about it. And yet I think about it every single day. I miss it so much. I used to be able to take a few pills and then poof blank out for a little while. As long as I took care after the fact, I'd be mostly fine. But now I have to deal with the unpredictability of my own mind or whatever nonsense I have to feel when I smoke/eat edibles

R has been really bumpy for me too. I don't know why like.. I've really been happy about our friendship lately. I feel like seeing how fucked up I had to be to my parents to make them listen gave me a new appreciation for her. I haven't blown up at her in a while but omfg I've done it a lot throughout our time together. Tho, she's still here for me. Nothing really changed. And I love her for that. I'm really just a random person online fr. At any point she could just decide she's fed up with me and ghost. But she endured my nonsense and still pushed me to look at things different. I never know how to bring that up without sounding like it's a romantic thing

Which has been eating at me so bad as of late. I don't know what th I feel towards her. If im still in love I wouldn't be shocked but it feels different from how I felt before the whole blowup a lil bit after she broke up with her ex. She's my safe space but she is also kinda fucked up to me sometimes. But I really can't help myself. I still worry about her all the time, I genuinely try to know everything and anything going on with her wherever possible, and I let so much go unspoken not blowing up and trying to keep her perspective in mind where I can.. I want her to not have to worry sm I hate that my presence has become a double edged sword. I love her so much it's become overbearing and hard to hide. I know it makes her feel pressure to hide stuff to keep up appearances/impressions. Shit sucks. It makes me feel like I'm in a parent's position atp..

Tho all that being said I feel like she still interprets my actions as some elaborate way to make her like me. Or me tryna be nice so that she falls in love with me. Some shit. And ik that sounds so paranoid and baseless but its been a pattern atp.

Everytime I get cheery and tryna treat her like ya know, my best friend, its like she takes that shit diff and mentions her ex as a way to tell me to back off. And I don't get it. Like no dummy I'm not excitedly talking about shit to lure you in YOU ARE MY FRIEND. MY CLOSESTTT. I know that she won't judge me for me and since she knows me so well, I rarely have to give too much of a backstory to talk about anything. It's nice. And I guess I abuse that privilege a lot. Maybe I should be better about not running to her about everything. But then like me being concerned and interested about what she's up to makes her do it as well. She briefly got with someone else (they've already broken up she ain't getting a codename 🥴) and I noticed her using her for that purpose too for a bit. Well. Before she got annoyed with her existence lolol

But yeah anyway like.. has that pattern already been there and I haven't noticed? Am I overthinking this action too hard and twisting it? It's frustrating me so bad cause I don't get why she interprets it like that. Am I just so oblivious I don't see how obviously in love I am and she's tryna push me out of that...? Or is she being self destructive and can't view my love as anything but manipulation.

Confessing to her has become one of my biggest regrets. It changed so much I hate myself for believing I was in lala land. Stupid fucking girl. All I could see was how much I liked talking wth her and it just slipped out. I didn't realize just how many fucking consequences it'd bring after the fact. I feel like im constantly dancing around shit. I wish I never said anything. Im so tired of having to study my every action to make sure I don't seem too eager to speak. I forget it happened some days but it feels like that's all she sees me as. I don't understand what to do atp. I don't want to lose her, we are completely ride or die aside from this. But my GOD I CANT TAKE IT. I feel like it's become such a giant elephant and it's going to rift everything once it's brought up. I don't want to piss her off and lose her for good

Between her and my ex.. I lowkey think I'm done with the whole romance thing this feeling is the absolute worst. Any time I express that myself in that way I come out of it feeling so stupid. It stings so much worse this time around. Least with my ex even though the shit only lasted a few months IT HAPPENED. I feel crazy feeling this exact same stupid feeling with someone I haven't even dated before. And for me to feel WORSE.. HOW?? I've avoided dating specifically so I wouldn't feel this way and then I stumbled and did the shit AGAIN! Let myself fall into even deeper feelings with someone that didn't even like me. Again. And I'm stinging worse than I ever was before. Crazy. I hope I never like anyone again.

I've been feeling blank as of late. Even with my family life improving and my health improving I still feel empty. The same I did before. It feels like now I'm performing a different role, but still feel the same. It felt so good to have everything in the open and finally dropping dph for good (probably) originally. But I really feel no better now that the dust has settled. Everything just shifted some

I try to be more open and honest about myself and what I feel but the central issues I don't know how to express. It feels unfair to air that shit out to R, my family or any of my friends since I know I won't believe them. It's so easy to say the right thing. So easy to assure me you love me. You care. But do you mean it? Or are you saying it because that's what you're "expected" to say and do? I dont trust a word out any of their mouths when it comes to shit like that. Looking at their unconscious actions and how and what they say feels like the most honest view of their thoughts. And a whole lot of that made me feel the way I feel. What's words going to fix when I can physically SEEE AND HEAR all the shit proving otherwise replaying in my head? Why listen to you try to cover your own ass when the evidence is already there? We both see the cards on the table. There's no point trying to sway me into looking at them different.

But I feel bad not being able to shake that sense. I know part of my thinking is irrational. It's fucked up I can't listen and change my view. It's like theyre speaking to a brick wall. It's almost like they can never fuck up since I can't let ts go once I've noticed it. I try to keep myself together because of that. I hate the grandiose acting I have to do to get through the day

I won't lie. I really sit there and wish I would've died that day. It's like ever since that last time ever since I got all my ducks in a row and decided I'm okay with no taking part in life, it suddenly made everything feel tedioussss. It gets on my nerves so bad I've been so angry. I wish I would've just kept my mouth shut and let things finally crumble down on its own so I could be left to pop pills til I either got it right and ended myself or guzzle em until I fucked myself up so bad I'd die without my intervention 💀💀

None of this seems to be worth it and I'm kinda over it. I made my decision. It fucking sucks that I'm still being forced along this stupid junk when I already decided it was all worthless. I wish I could hide away and just stop participating in society. Never talk again. Never play another game. Never spend a single cent. Just total isolation. I wish all the games I play were single player so no one would think to chat with me while we're playing. I wish the world was filled with robots so that I could go in and out of a store without thinking bout if the employees are thinking I'm stealing or wondering if anyone thinks I look as cool as I think I look

I wish it were just a lil bubble just for me. Go into a store, grab what I want, walk out. Dress up anywhere and take 10000 pictures that no one'll see. But idc cause i look so prettyyy and I like seeing myself in all my cute lil outfits. Eat what I want and how weirdly I want without people looking at me crazy. I swear it's all doable but it all feels like I'd have to completely ignore the outside world for me to be happy. Even shit like having to say good morning to my parents or thank you to someone holding the door open for me pisses me off. When I'm not in the mood for speaking, I aint in the mood for any and all speaking no matter how small. And lately uh it's been all I feeling

I don't know why I don't feel the motivation to try to kill myself again. Ig I don't even care enough to atp. I've been so over it now. I've been feeling kinda apathetic to everything to a degree. Not that it hasn't been nice to have clarity on everything. But I don't care to fix any of it anymore. I was done that day i tried to kill myself you know? Being here still didn't really change anything in my perspective. If I had a button right in front of me that'd instantly end me 100% guaranteed I'd put on a nice lil outfit then push that shit with a swiftness

I'd be shocked if don't end up relapsing atp. I'm tired of thinking

[justanillvampire]

Two necklaces in, and my hand and arm is trembling. 

Here was my thought process I was like, let me take an edible and some Tylenol and wait for that to kick in while I make the necklaces.

That was a stupid thought process. Now I’m in pain and if the Tylenol has kicked in I certainly don’t feel it and we’re not even talk about the edibles. I only ate two and well my tolerance is very high so that’s just like to take the edge off of my pain not to get high, though I’m going to smoke a bowl soon so that will take care of that.

Back to the necklaces, I have one left a string up, but you don’t understand stringing them is the easy part, even though that’s really hard, putting the crimps and clasp on, that’s a whole different ball Park and a whole different issue. It’s one thing to drop the beads constantly but when playing with the clasp I could and have and do easily drop it and the whole thing unbeads. It’s like an hours worth of work completely wasted  and I’ll have to start over with designing and stringing…

I literally have a whole bowl of 20 stringed necklaces that are needing clasps and crimps. I wish I could employ someone to help me, but I don’t have any money for myself, let alone a person. This is also where I wish I had friends in real life. I’ve been super content, my whole life with just being me singularly, but now I’m seeing the error of my ways. 

Stupid body we wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn’t for you! Oh well time to smoke a bowl. I haven’t decided whether I’m going to force myself through the last necklace or if I am just gonna not do anything with my hands for a little while to possibly be able to do it later.

I.. I really don’t know. There is the fair chance that I still won’t be able to do it later, but I’ll be in more pain later because it’s progressive once it starts. In that case maybe I should just force the last necklace which could force me to be in pain, quicker and longer and more profusely. What the fuck.

[passionatecatalyst-blog]

london is hard work

of course hanging out with rj means getting into an exclusive members-only club at soho house. it's pretentious as fuck but also a beautiful space, rooftop terrace with a pool in the middle, and views for days. we hung out with his friend and 2 greek guys, one who slightly reminded me of the sky captain with his dark mediterranean good looks. he told me that london is fantastic in so many ways but that it is also HARD WORK. i just need to accept that fact and get used to having to put in the work that it entails to make it as meaningful and adventurous and fun as i want it to be.

i went to the holy art fair by the river yesterday. i took an edible and wanted to just walk around on my own and take in the art, but it was a much more stressful experience because there were so many people in a small space as well as the artists standing around watching everyone walk by. i could feel my heart racing and my natural tendency is to want to avoid social interactions while high. there was a part of me that wanted to engage with the artists because intellectually, i know this is how i want to move in the world - to be open-hearted and get to know people in whatever capacity and to be engaged with the world. this is how you make friends. but my nervous system tells me differently and my automatic reaction is one of avoidance and it's hard to overcome. how much of my life has been run by my hypersensitive nervous system?

it was inspiring to see the different types of art and ideas and approaches that artists take, from various styles of painting to combining elements of collage or other materials. it was a reminder that i am still looking to find a creative outlet of my own.

i'm creating my own suffering by letting my behavior be dictated by the weather. i know intellectually that i will feel better if i just get outside and attend events rather than hole up in the depressing flat while staring at the grey skies outside. just need to push through that barrier that i've created in my head to break through to the outside world.

i've also realised that london is where spontaneity comes to die. everything and everyone needs to be booked in advance. i've held off on making plans until the day of but then the options become so much more limited. just to adjust my behavior and accept that i can't live as spontaneously as i want if i want to live in london.

i'm so used to being healthy, i probably take it for granted too much. now i've developed a weird clustered rash on my forehead, combined with an earache, swollen lymph glands behind my left ear, and a harder lump behind my right ear. what could it be? shingles? some sort of bacterial infection or virus? trying hard not to catastrophize but what if this is the beginning of some chronic illness? dear universe, please let me be healthy again.

my supervisor commented on how composed i seem all the time but wondered if i'm a composed swan on the surface with legs intensely kicking underneath the water. that image has stayed with me because it resonates. that and the icebreaker fish. i just need to keep moving forward and break down the barriers that get in the way of the life that i want to create.

[quaintnecromancer]

The twenty-something human who’d fallen out of the portal must’ve looked odd to them. Dark hair in a low, messy bun. Tall and lanky, with a pretty face and eyes lined in smudged black kohl. Wearing a simple mesh cropped tank top, ripped jeans, studded belts, and well-worn but sturdy black cowboy boots. He certainly would have stood out in the torchlit court room (throne room? He wasn’t sure…), even if he hadn’t made the clumsiest grand entrance known to man.

Jett had the distinct feeling that he should be far more terrified than he was. New place. New (extremely hostile) people. New world entirely, judging by the way they dressed and spoke, unless he’d just happened to land himself in the middle of a fantasy themed renaissance fair. That was doubtful, considering the fact that a man who looked like a cross between Timothee Chalamet and the lead singer of Green Day was straight up threatening him with execution. Maybe it was his edible kicking in, or maybe it was the sound of Joan Jett’s Bad Reputation blaring through his headphones (hanging around his neck and still mercifully connected to his MP3 player) that kept the young witch calm. Either way, he looked up at the beautiful but intimidating man with wide brown eyes, hesitating for a moment before speaking.

“Look, man, I’m sorry for droppin’ in on y’all like that,” he drawled sheepishly, Carolina accent coming out strong. “I really was just trying to get home from my friend’s place, but I think I fucked up the teleportation spell.” Colossally. He didn’t even know what the hell he’d done wrong to wind up here instead of just plopping down in the forest or the Blue Ridge Mountains somewhere. “Uhhh…as for a reason to keep me around instead of murderin’ me? Dunno…I mean, I’m sure I can make myself useful. I’m a musician, a healer, a gardener, a damn fine cook…I talk to dead folks more often than I talk to the livin’ because most livin’ folks are assholes to me, but I doubt you’ll need me for that.” If he wasn’t high out of his gourd, he might have done a better job of selling his points, but all he had the capacity for right now was total honesty.

“Just…please don’t kill me? I don’t mean any harm, really, and I can probably get outta your hair properly once I’m rested and sober. Most likely. Hopefully..?” That was assuming that magic worked the same way here as it did on Earth, and he really didn’t want to think too hard about that right now. In fact, he didn’t want to think much at all. His head felt light and fluffy, just like the hair of the unfairly pretty and quietly angry guy who was probably a prince or king or something.

“N-no, wait! You’ve got it all wrong! I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m not him!” (From isekai’d modern Jett @quaintnecromancer but it’s not from a meme)

It did not take long for the guards to size the man - resembling someone he knew ages ago a tad too closely. Dropping out of a portal all of a sudden didn't sit well with anyone who was present in Gortash's throne room, and even he found it hard to believe he saw what he was seeing.

His first demand was that how dared he return after all this time. Because even if he was, deep inside, pleased to see that the Dark Urge was alive, it's been quite a while since he'd been gone, and Enver desperately needed an ally like him in the past few years. Most found their alliance odd, but Enver, personally, liked the Dark Urge. He was much more fun to have around than Orin who threatened to gut him at every damned second they met.

As he stared down at the man, forced down on his knees in front of him, Enver tutted at the other's answer. A doppelgänger? A lost twin? Perhaps this was Orin in disguise to mock him again?! Gortash's patience rapidly thinned to the breadth of a single strand of hair. He was tired, so tired of games.

"Tell me one good reason why shouldn't I order your execution right here, right now?" His voice sounded quiet and calm, despite the searing anger he felt.

[poisonouswritings]

THE CARNIVAL IS IN TOWN FOR ME THIS WEEK AND I HAVE LIKE INSANE ADHD SO I KEEP FORGETTING THAT IT’S THERE AND THEN I LOOK OVER AND IT’S A BUNCH OF PRETTY LIGHTS AND I JUST STARE AT IT FOR LIKE FIFTEEN MINUTES (might be 15 seconds idk time is weird)

ANYWAY IT GOT ME THINKING SAGE WOULD FUCKING LOVE A CARNIVAL OR FAIR THING AND LIKE OKAY SO YOU KNOW THE DISNEY TEACUPS??? THE CARNIVAL THAT COEMS TO MY CITY HAS THAT EXCEPTNITS SPINNIGN BEARS AND J THINK SAGE WOULD 10000% SPIN AS FAST AS HE FUCKING CAN IN ONE OF THOSE—

ANISA!!!! WITH!!!!!! FUNNEL CAKE!!!!!!!!!! IDK I THINK SHE WOULD REALLY LIKE FUNNEL CAKE WITH LIKE STRAWBERRY SYRUP AND STUFF IDK WHY

Tulsi and Sage at one of those shooting games where you’re supposed to shoot the little paper star thing and if you get the whole thing you win and she gets the biggest fucking elephant and I specify Tulsi AND Sage even though I think Tulsi would be more interested because I’m thinking of Tulsi kicking his ass and winning the Biggest Fucking Elephant and rubbing it in his face (why are there giant stuffed elephants as the prize for this? Because that’s a prize at the one in my city rn don’t ask me why it just is)

I have Absolutely Nothing for felix because I have no idea what he’d be doing at a carnival anyway unless the other two dragged him I mean it’s loud it’s bright and fuck dammit I want a funnel cake now

Also curious about how Rime and the Griefers would do at a carnival

idk last legacy brainrot is going Ping Ponging in my head like tigger from fuckin Winnie the Pooh

TW very vague mention of alcohol/weed, throwing up

Hehehe,,, I love carnivals,, or I guess it's more accurate to say that I love the vibe/aesthetics of carnivals. It's nostalgic and wholesome and full of heart, y'know?

I think Sage and Elowen (and possibly also Lucan) would get super distracted staring at lights. It's the cat in them. And if Sage and Lucan are buzzed/drunk? Absolutely will go on the Ferris Wheel just to look out at all the lights and chill. My stoner's agenda insists I mention that they would prooooobably do an edible or something beforehand. Balsam might do one too but he also might try to be the sober babysitter. Although if Elowen is gonna be staying around them for the majority of the time then she probably gets to be the DD.

Sage would go as fast as possible! If you get dizzy easily then he'll try to keep it slow but honestly he gets overexcited and still ends up going very fast. If you aren't up to it, send him with Lucan and Balsam. They'll go as fast as possible because they wanna see 'who's the toughest' and can go the longest without barfing. Balsam wins because he has an iron stomach. Lucan and Sage have to sit down and sip some water for like twenty minutes. Dorks.

Funnel cake! Cotton candy! Kettle corn! Caramel apples! Anisa is trying all the snacks and splitting them with you. Doesn't matter how long the line is. Imagine,, you're splitting a funnel cake,,, and she goes 'oh this is really sweet' and you lean over and kiss her cheek and go 'not as sweet as you! :3' and then her cheeks go warm and her hair poofs and she squeaks and ehehehehe I love her so much

Yes Tulsi and Sage doing the water game but. Also. Tulsi and Elowen doing the water game. Elowen having sharpshooter skills. If the guns are the kinds that let you freely move them around then they will shoot at Sage. Either way Tulsi is winning a giant elephant. She's naming it Peanut.

If there's any sort of 'Tunnel of Love'-esque ride, Felix is checking them out. And if there's any sort of live shows or performances, he's there. Magic shows??? Please. Felix who practices street magic and can't help but point out the mistakes the magician is making so the magician is like 'okay you do it then' thinking Fe is just a heckler but then Fe actually does some really impressive tricks and it's like !! He's having fun in his own ways. And if there's any sort of haunted house, he's dragging everyone through it.

Rime,, doing,,, photo ops? I feel like he would be very particular about his selfies. He'll go on rides if you ask him too, but a carnival just isn't his type of scene. He will make some sort of joke about Sage being a clown though. Also remember in (I think?) Chapter 12 when Rime was like 'I'll show you something super scary like clowns?' Rime is scared of clowns. So if there's any clowns around, he'll be very antsy and liable to just fast-walking out of the area to try not to be obvious about it.

[anonymous-dentist]

Test Run #3 for the vigilante au! We round these three one-shots off with our boy Sapnap, and a hint of a potential plot. 

I’m actually having trouble deciding whether Sapnap or Quackity gets the primary pov in this fic, so if you have a preference, send me an ask letting me know, please? 

(As with the other two, this is unedited and stream of thought.)

:)

-

So there’s this bakery downtown that sells baked goods of every sort. Cookies, muffins, edibles, cakes, pies, name it, they’ve got it. The food’s borderline inedible, but that’s hardly Sapnap’s fault. He just works there. 

Well. 

Technically he isn’t exactly paid, but Sapnap works there. He’s set to inherit it, actually, which is absolutely terrifying to think about for multiple different reasons, the least of which not being the fact the weird red mold in the basement that makes Sapnap break into hives so badly that he has to go to the hospital. Like, man. Fuck that shit. 

Sapnap shivers as the nurse pulls her hands away and as her healing ability’s warmth leaves his body. She nods at Bad entering the room, then she takes her leave to track down the paperwork Sapnap needs to sign to go home. 

Bad gives Sapnap an apologetic look and sits down on an uncomfortable-looking plastic chair. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, and he even sounds like he means it this time. 

“If you’re really sorry, then call a fucking mold exterminator or whatever to get rid of that shit before it kills me,” Sapnap snaps. He doesn’t regret it, not even as Bad’s face falls further into hurt and worry. 

Three times in one month is- it’s not good! It’s not good. There are several reasons why Sapnap moved out as soon as he could, and the shitty weird mold is but only one of them. 

“Language,” Bad half-heartedly chides. His shoulders sag, and maybe Sapnap feels a little bad. A little. “And it’s- I’ve been looking, alright? The best person I could find is Sam, and I’m not sure if I trust him with something as… delicate as this.”

Fair, especially considering Sam’s unique ability to make anything explode with but a single touch. (It has no relation to his actual ability of machine possession or whatever it is he’s calling it these days, but that man is just. So unlucky.) It would be a damn shame if Badlands got blown up trying to get rid of some mold. 

But? But. But. 

“I’ll see if Dream can find anyone,” Sapnap says, and Bad’s shoulders sag even further. 

If there’s one thing that Bad hates doing more than basic housework, it’s asking his son’s friends for help. Something something kids these days should be able to relax more, which is nice and all, but Dream is 22. He isn’t a kid. 

“I’ll ask Sam,” Bad sullenly says. “Maybe he’ll have a better idea of who we should be looking for.”

Right, “we”, because Sapnap’s name was added to the bakery’s paperwork properly just recently. Badlands Bakery, owned by the Halo family going back almost sixty years. It would be nice if seeing his name in big black bold letters didn’t sting as much as it did. One day when Bad finally kicks it, Sapnap will be the one living above the bakery, and he’ll be the one passing down the family’s secret muffin recipe to any kids that he and Karl might adopt in the future, and he’ll be the one having to take care of potentially-toxic mold in the basement. At least he knows that it might be toxic; Bad seems to be in some sort of stupid denial about that, which is annoying, to say the least. 

But it’s fine. It’s fine! Skeppy has more than enough money in the bank to take care of any further hospital bills that Sapnap might rack up because, surprise surprise, it’s expensive to go to the emergency room three times in the span of a month for icky mold hives. 

“Whatever,” Sapnap huffs. 

He turns his gaze from his father to the clock on the wall, and that’s the end of that. 

-

The problem with being a guy with no special ability in a city full of people with special abilities is that it’s really fucking hard to be a superhero. No respectable hero agency will even so much as look at you if you don’t have at least some kind of superpower. But apparently being ripped as hell isn’t an ability, and neither is having a better sense of justice than half the heroes currently employed across the city. 

Growing up, Sapnap wanted nothing more than to be like the heroes he saw on tv. He sat up all night on his fifth birthday waiting to see what ability he would manifest. Would it be like his dad’s, all fire and brimstone? Or would it be like his deceased mother’s, some kind of targeted empathy ray? But then the clock turned midnight, and nothing happened. 

And nothing would happen. 

It’s perfectly normal to be born without an ability. That’s what Bad told him then as he cried in his father’s arms, and it’s what Bad tells him now as he looks down at Excel spreadsheets he doesn’t understand. And it is perfectly normal, technically. It’s like being born ginger, only being born ginger doesn’t immediately blacklist you from your dream job. And Sapnap knows that if it wasn’t for that, he wouldn’t care. His life is just fine. He has a stable job, technically, and a business basically his for the taking as soon as his dad passes on. He has the world’s most wonderful boyfriend, and he has a ring box in his sock drawer just waiting for the right time to be pulled out. 

But also? Sapnap wants to break someone’s bones, like, all of the time. It’s what happens after basically being forced into working customer service since he was a kid. It’s only natural that he wants to get off work and blow off some steam by beating the everloving shit out of some jackass robbing a 7/11. 

And so Sapnap finds himself beating the everloving shit out of some jackass robbing a 7/11 at three in the morning, knuckles bruised and bleeding and smile straining the limits of his bandana’s coverage. If he gets any more pumped, there’s a good chance that his bandana will fall right off, and that wouldn’t be good. At all. 

“Bro, what the fuck?” the idiot cowering before him groans, curled up into themself and covered head-to-toe in their own blood. “I wasn’t even doing anything!”

Sapnap looks from the criminal to the woman on the sidewalk watching them duke it out with a hole in her chest from a gunshot wound she had sustained before his arrival. Normally, he wouldn’t even bother with someone robbing a 7/11. It’s a tough economy; people gotta do what they gotta do to survive. But shooting people? Nah, that’s just plain wrong. 

“You literally shot a woman,” Sapnap incredulously says. His dollar-store voice changer makes his voice ten times more gravelly and ten times more hard to understand, but it also makes him, like, ten times more cool and ten times more intimidating. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

The criminal stops quivering long enough to consider before shrugging and giving up their attempts to escape. 

“Fair enough,” they say. 

Right. Well. That’s good enough. 

Sapnap had sent a tip to his favorite local hero before swooping in, so he just ties the fucker up with some rope and  sits down on the cub next to the shot woman. He awkwardly folds his hands in his lap, silent. 

“Thank you,” the woman says, just as awkward. 

She must have some kind of healing ability, because she doesn’t really seem at all bothered by the literal hole in her chest. 

Sapnap ducks his head bashfully. “It’s nothing, really. Thank the guy coming to arrest them.”

And then, right on cue as if he was psychic, the guy coming to arrest them swoops in from the clouds, cloak fluttering behind him. He whistles through his teeth, face completely hidden behind his mask, obviously impressed by Sapnap’s ability to completely wreck a motherfucker. 

“Damn, okay, good job, Mars,” Dream says. Yeah, he’s impressed. 

He crouches by the criminal, who obviously recognizes S City’s number one up-and-coming hero. They cringe back in fear, eyes wide and glimmering in the smoggy moonlight. Sapnap can practically see Dream’s smirk as he grabs the criminal’s face and moves it so they’re looking directly at the beady black eye holes of his mask. 

“Oh, shit,” the woman softly says. 

Sapnap often feels much the same way when he sees his friend in the field. Dream is just. He’s just. 

Sapnap stands and stretches, hiding a wince as something in his shoulder pulls. Maybe he’ll just head home for the night after this. He’s had a long night, and he kind of super desperately wants Karl to hold him right now. 

He walks up behind Dream and crosses his arms, hip cocked just so. He’s intimidating. Karl always tells him that he looks intimidating like this. He looks tough. Badass. Macho as hell. 

“You were slow tonight,” he comments. “Getting rusty, Hush?”

Dream’s shoulders tense with stifled laugher. “Sure, sure. You know, you might’ve gone a little too easy on this guy. Did you lose your touch?”

The criminal whimpers, fully whimpers. Sapnap actually feels a little bad for them. Not a lot, just a little. This is what happens when you try and kill someone: you get your ass whooped by the two toughest bitches in town. 

Sapnap cracks his knuckles with a purposefully-exaggerated yawn. “It’s been a long night, man. Why don’t we just take care of the problem and call it good?”

“What, are you suggesting that a hero and a vigilante work together to bring a criminal to justice?” Dream asks, standing and turning to face Sapnap in one swift motion. Silhouetted by the moon, Dream cuts a striking, imposing figure, towering above Sapnap with every identifying feature of his hidden beneath his costume. “That sounds ridiculous, even to me.”

Sapnap shrugs. They do this every time they collab. It’s for show. And, man, Sapnap is such a good actor. 

He looks the injured woman directly in the eye and says, “Yeah, it is ridiculous. It’s a good thing that nobody is going to hear about it.”

The woman’s eyes widen, and she nods her head vigorously. 

Content, Dream turns back to the criminal, who looks about ready to piss their pants. 

He pulls a knife from his bandoleer and flips it once in the air before catching it by the tip. God, he’s cool. 

Sapnap doesn’t have any weapons, but he does have his fists. More importantly, he has a pair of steel-toed boots that Bad gave him for Christmas last year that have seen more ribcages than any respectable boots should ever see. 

He drives his foot right into the jackass’ ribs and lets Dream get to work.