#what did my friends and i do when we were bored

[zealouswitchwerewolf]

Unbeknownst to them, the rumor of them looking for Tim and speculation on why exactly they're doing so after so much time has passed spreads quickly through the league and the younger heroes. While each of those teams are known to work with the Bats and they usually have one as a team mate, they're not blind and they have seen the way things went down after Batman came back from the time stream. Some (Superman, Wally, Jon, maybe?) want to believe they finally realized how important Tim is to their family and want to reconnect.

Most of the others are skeptic and have (correctly) assumed they need Tim for something and are intending to pull him back into their parasitic (?) dynamic where Tim gives and gives and they take without giving anything back. Tim is finally moving on. Happy. They're not about to compromise that for the sake of the bats. Not after he put them before his own life and well being for years and years without them truly realizing.

It takes a week for them to hear back from Tim. However, when they finally get the call from a blocked number it isn't Tim on the other side.

"Tim? We were worried about you? Where have you been?" Dick answers but puts the phone on speaker, Bruce, Damian and Alfred present in the room.

"and why exactly are you trying to contact Tim right now?" Ma Kent's voice is colder than they've ever heard before. "Tim changed his number months ago. What exactly are you worried about?"

"Um... We..." Dick starts, sheepish and not sure how to continue without looking like a jerk.

"Where is Tim? Why isn't he calling us?" Bruce interrupts with his usual tact. Ma isn't having it.

"That's not how this works. Either answer my question or I'll hang up and make sure no one else gives you Tim's information. You might be detectives but even you won't be able to pass through all the layers of security that boy and his friends have put up as a precaution."

"He... Gave Bruce some advice that helped get the family back together we were hoping that he could..." Dick started.

"Go back to fixing your messes without ever getting anything in return? Talk Bruce out of his bullshit like he's the child instead of a full grown adult?" They stay silent, knowing Ma has a point. "That's what I thought. You know, anyone else in your situation would look for a therapist instead of relying on an emotional support child to get you through life. You didn't even notice when he left, did you?"

"I..." Dick is not sure how to finish his sentence. Damian looks bored and like he'd rather be anywhere else. Alfred has a deep frown on his face but it doesn't seem to be directed at anyone in particular. Bruce... Bruce has completely shut down. His face is pale, stuck in a neutral expression while his eyes are glassy and focused on a random point in the wall.

"Like I said. You're not getting close to that boy if you're just going to keep using him. He got out. Respect that. If you don't, I'll make sure someone keeps you in check. He has a lot of people at his back and even more who owe him favors. You don't want to try me." With that, Martha Kent hangs up the phone.

Bruce comes back from the dead and wants to make things better. Bruce comes back from the dead and Tim was the one who brought him back, so it's obviously Tim who'll know best how to help him reconnect with everyone.

It's Tim who should give him advice on how to bond with Dick. Dick has always been his idol, after all. Tim would know best how to bring him back, and he does. He gives good advice and the two of them begin to get closer.

So Bruce asks about Jason, too. Asks about how to bring his son back into the fold and Tim wished for a brief and brutal moment that it weren't so obvious who the favorite was.

Tim told Bruce to give Jason his space, to loosen his rules, and make it clear that no matter what the Red Hood did, no matter what the Batman believed in, Jason was always welcome. Bruce would always want him.

It worked. Bruce wasn't surprised. Tim was a special sort of bitter.

Bruce asked again for Damian and Tim had to push down his anger. "That boy tried to kill me," Tim wanted to say. "I hate him and I want you to hate him too so that I can remember a time when we had something in common," Tim didn't say, but he got close.

He instead told Bruce how Damian liked art and animals and loved hearing stories of the wonders of Batman.

He told Bruce just how much Damian loved being Robin. Told Bruce to tell Damian what a good Robin he was.

God bless or maybe damn him, but he did and it worked and Tim wanted to start screaming and clawing at something because that would have never worked if Tim tried it and it wouldn't have stopped Damian from cutting his line--something Bruce did not and would never know about.

Bruce asked about Babs. How should he make sure she knew that she was a part of the family? They they loved her and not just for the work she did?

He asked about Steph. How should he make sure she knew that she was more important than his rules and that, if something else should go wrong, she didn't need to run away?

He asked about Duke. He never got the chance to get to know him before leaving--not as well as he wanted to, at least. How should he let him know that he was just as much a son as everyone else? That, whether or not his parents woke up, he'd always be welcome?

He asked about Cass. How should he show her that he loves her even though he has nothing to teach her? How can he convey how much he cares about her, his first daughter?

Bruce gets brought back from time and he makes things better. He brings his family back together by following Tim's advice.

And Tim?

Tim brings his dad back from the dead and Bruce changes, becomes a better father.

Bruce changes, but not everything can.

That, Tim thinks, is why Bruce never calls Tim his son.

[pastlivesxpastlie]

𓍯𓂃Lovesick

mdni 18+

Summary: Vessel becomes fixated with you after you provide him some comfort at a party. Are you as gone for him, too? Pairing: Vessel x fem!reader wc: 4.7k head's up: vessel x you, smut with plot, friends to lovers, afab!reader, no y/n, oral sex (m receiving), pining + yearning, talk of male masturbation, texting, absolutely idiots in love, angst, bit of a slow burn (?), use of "good boy" and "good girl," tit play, couch sex, cowgirl, light choking, HEA, threats of waxing poetic about progressive metal

Taglist aka Situation Enjoyers™️: @lifemod17 @glitterghost @inv3ga @adenobabe @jeriiicho @milk--bones @myaudiocommentary @horsebiologist @intake-of-breath @fruitsandcheese @0hg00dgirl @goosepond69 @friendly-neighborhood-ghoul @lynzeequitlollygagging @thatxxjiyong-ssi @cloudy-soul @daddysaidbringthethunder @cheomain @evisnotok

“On your knees….please. Yes, like that. Mmmmph. Thank you.”

Vessel can’t help but still be polite. He can’t believe his eyes. Nor the feeling of the night air on his hard cock. He’s floating above himself and watching himself get jerked off outside at a house party. It’s not enough that he feels the spit on your palm. That could be his hand and this is just an elaborate fantasy. One of many.

But it would be the first about you. You were untouchable. You’re just a friend…just a friend…just a friend…only a friend. 

“Can I use my mouth?”

Holy fuck. This is real life.

In his fantasies, no one asks. Vessel doesn’t dream about giving consent. He dreams of being craved. Taken. Always willing. His breath catches. 

“Hey, it’s ok,” you whisper, “we don’t have to anyth-“

“Do anything to me. Please.”

His head falls back with a soft thud against the house. Getting head was always fun but this felt therapeutic. You had, of course, asked Ves why he seemed down. You always asked him those kinds of things. “Someone who cares asks those things,” he’d told himself, “but someone who loves you does something about it.” Now you’re on your knees in the dirt sucking him off. How did this even happen?

𓍯𓂃earlier...

Vessel slumped in the couch and mindlessly dragged his fingers on his thigh. He had made his rounds and said “hi” to the people he wanted to talk to and smiled awkwardly at the people he sought to avoid or didn’t know. He deserved a little sit down after that. The past few months had put him in a rut. There was always a post-tour slump but this one hit different. Vessel felt down. Down because he had writer’s block. Down because it had been gloomy this week and the week before and before that etc etc. Down because his bed was cold. Thinking back on the hook-ups during tour already got boring. The old encounters going stale. Does he hook up again with someone randomly against his better judgement or does he deal with it?

On more than one occasion, Vessel had been accused of being naive when it came to love, to which he responded, “I’m just being cautious.” Where some might be naive about love and affection and throw themselves at the first person who did the bare minimum, Vessel was naive in that he just figured people were being nice or he just got lucky. Otherwise, people didn’t really want to mess with being in a relationship with a musician. They’re broody. They’re too busy. They’re married to their work. They’re full of themselves. Vessel internalized those things. Sure he was broody to begin with, but that was his brand. But everything else, sure, he could be married to his work and keep himself busy. “Just earth sign things!” Easy as that. And maybe one day someone else’s indifference towards commitment would rub off on him. His rumination is interrupted when the couch sinks a bit beside him and he feels a soft punch on his arm. 

“What does it mean when I don’t get ‘hi’ or your awkward smile, hm?”

His heart warms up a bit. It’s you. You teeter somewhere between “friend” and “good friend.” It’s always nice to see you but you leave it at that. You see each other when you see each other. He shrugs and looks over at you. “Didn’t see you. Bet you were hiding or something.” 

“Tsk. Fine. Maybe I was. We know too much about each other’s awkward little quirks,” you sigh. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t want to see you, though. How you been?”

Vessel laughs to himself, thinking of the miserable spiral you interrupted. “Imagine how much more awkward this could get if I told you the truth.” But you don’t laugh at his little self-deprecation. That makes him nervous. His insides churn. You’re just watching him, waiting to hear what he has to say. Why do you do that? So many people ask “how are you” because it’s polite…why do you care so much? “Look.” Vessel finally speaks again and flattens his hair. “I’m not great.” 

You shift and exhale softly. “Yeah. Me neither.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

He can see it in your eyes. You’re not trying to have some misery-loves-company-circlejerk. You have that same “mask” on as him. “Hate to hear that.” For a second Vessel feels something stir within him. Your tone is unenthusiastic but he knows it has nothing to do with him. He’s just glad to bond with someone, even if it’s over something lame like depression or whatever is eating at you both. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh just…general bullshit.” You shrug but Vessel knows whatever it is, you can’t just shrug it off. “Like if I’m so stuck, maybe this is where I’m meant to be. Even if it hurts.”

He makes an “o” shape with his mouth and is lost in thought. He has certainly felt that way before, but hearing you say it about yourself is heretical. He hates that you think that way. “No.”

“Oh. Well…alright. Thanks Ves, you healed me.” You chuckle dryly. He rolls his eyes and pats your leg. “So what’s got you down? For real.”

Vessel’s smile fades. “I feel…stuck as well. Just…going through the motions.” He scratches the back of his neck. “All the excitement of the last couple of months just…ripped from me. Gets hard to keep up with my emotions when I’m…frankly…bored. Bored of feeling this way. My own company.”

“I get that. Like you have to have things changing or moving all the time.”

“Exactly. Like some kind of jump that isn’t a substance or…whatever.”

“Hah…yeah… sometimes I just feel like…” you begin but pause.

“Like what?” Why are you blushing like that, he wonders idly. And why is it suddenly the cutest thing he’s ever seen?

“Uhm. I feel like…I need to get laid. That would fix me, right? Huge load of emotions and hormones released with someone you like…what could be better?”

“Oh is it that simple?” Vessel laughs. A genuine, warm laugh. You’re so silly, he just loves talking to you. And he loves how you laugh with him. He was scared for a second that you might take it personally, but he’s glad to see that you too have a sick sense of humor when you’re feeling unwell. 

“Maybe it is. Guess…we won’t know until…” you trail off.

“Until we try…” Vessel’s throat goes dry. He tries to swallow hard before nonchalantly scoping out how many people were on the patio. 

𓍯𓂃

Vessel always had to make things happen, and he was fucking exhausted from it. Now you were happening to him. You clued in on what he wanted when he suggested you both get some fresh air. Hell, you were the one who found the perfect spot for this tryst. 

“Y-you like doing that?” he whimpers. He can’t make out much of your features but he feels you nod and smile and…fuck, take him deeper in your mouth. He’s holding his breath. He knows he shouldn’t but if he doesn’t exert some kind of control over himself he’ll lose it. But when you grab his waist and start literally fucking your face with his cock he has to let go. He grips your hair, willing himself to resist overpowering you and thrusting harder against your movements. “Ffffff-fffuck.” He whimpers softly and bites at his lip… wishing you had kissed him before you got started so he could imagine it again while you savored every inch of him. His entire body shivers when you moan against his cock, making him realize you like the sound of his whimpers. His pathetic little pleas and moans.

“‘That feel good, Ves?” You whisper, stroking his cock as you catch your breath? “Hmm?”

He nods and whines, trying to not be loud. Thank god it was dark, otherwise you would have seen the tears threatening to spill. The way he bit his hand to keep from moaning out loud. What if you two got caught? What if another friend heard what you pulled from him? “Fuck…you’re gonna make me cum…”

“That’s a good boy.” Vessel feels his stomach drop as you start sucking him off again but with more enthusiasm. Like you need him to cum. And he does. But you don’t move…you keep your mouth on him. And he  might be the one cumming down your throat but he’s not claiming you. No. 

You. 

Own. 

Him. 

Somehow, and much to his delight, Vessel does not lose sleep over the ordeal or his new-found, all-consuming feelings for you. In fact, he’s never slept better. Sleeping once meant loud, restless dreams; now it means a nestling in and wondering about you before dozing off…imagining he’s holding you. He keeps telling himself it’s infatuation. It’ll go away. He’s just starstruck from the way you took care of him. But then…the ruminating started…

Each morning, Vessel wondered about you. Maybe today you’ll share something on Instagram that he can make a little comment on. Send a react. Yes, sure, you’re friends, but you’re not “close.” When he looked into your soft, sweet eyes the other night he wondered how a darling little thing like you learned to give head like that. Suddenly your life story became his Roman Empire. Were you a natural? Did someone give you gentle pointers the first few times? Or did you have to do it a lot to get good? Did you have to go jumping from man to man to find the love you so desperately craved? This made Vessel’s blood run cold. The thought of sweet, wonderful you merely being an option to other men. A small voice told Vessel that perhaps he himself was just an option. Maybe you did stuff like this a lot. One among many. Vessel chided this voice. Locked it in a dark little room with no ventilation. You were good. You wouldn’t use anyone. In fact, you probably did learn this from practice because who wouldn’t love you?

Vessel knows he’s being stupid. You two like each other but he won’t reach out. Then again, you don’t reach out either. That’s ok. He had no coherent plan of moving things forward. He was also terrified the spark you two shared would be gone if you tried hanging out again. What if you couldn’t handle his schedule? Or didn’t find it endearing when his moods never let up? What if that stupid voice was right? Most of the time, he resigned himself back to “I’ll see her when I see her,” and a cheeky wank to take the edge off. But that always left him feeling guilty. Empty. 

This particular morning he had been deep in thought about what your favorite position might be and how many times he could make you cum just from fucking you at a torturous pace that way. Today’s position of choice was doggy, but bent over his desk, on top of his notes from recording and writing sessions. That was what you deserved. You drove him to absolutely hopeless distraction…you should be bent over while he stands behind you, fingers melting into your flesh, holding you in place. He swears this will be the last time he jerks off thinking about you…but because of that he can’t help but edge himself. Thinking about you is easy. Not because you yourself are easy…but because Vessel realizes how naturally desirable you are. Seeing the way you took control and took care of him opened his mind to this entirely new world of fantasies. The heat blooming from his groin to his tummy made him stop for the third time. Yes, in this fantasy you were bent over for him…but there was more to it. You were doing him a favor. Good boys got to take breaks. Good boys stuck in a rut need to empty their brains and fill up their girlfriends. FUCK he wanted you to be his girlfriend so bad. And that thought scared him…as does the sound of his phone buzzing a few times. His train of thought vanishes along with his hard-on. Cursing whoever who messaging him this early, he grabs his phone but then makes the most embarrassing noise known to man. 

You: hey isn’t this a band you like?

the second message is the link to an instagram post

You: they’re doing a last minute show next weekend 

And sure enough, one of his favorite niche prog metal bands was playing in place of someone else at a local venue on Saturday. And tickets were dead cheap. Another message. 

You: if I knew anything about metal I’d go with you. Not sure how much fun I’d be 

Sirens! Flashing lights! All the bells and whistles going off in Vessel’s brain are firing. His inner little voices of reason (and everything in between) begin a debate.

“She’s flirting!” “Obviously, she’s flirting she sucked your dick.” “Can’t be that deep mate, she’s just now talking to you after a month.” “Sure it is, it is has to be flirting! She’s practically begging for you to invite her!”

Vessel: lol I could send you a playlist :)

“Mate, come on, what are you doing?” “Invite her over to hear the playlist. That’ll will be cute” “and then fuck her. Fuck her like the sl—“

Vessel rolls over and screams in his pillow. He will not have a meltdown over this.

Vessel: or we could throw you in feet first? Come with me? 

… … … 

Those infernal fucking “typing” bubbles are killing him. 3 minutes of that. Then no response. Vessel isn’t sure what he did wrong or if he did do anything wrong. He tries to go about his day but there’s still that nagging suspicion that he did too much. But when he least expects it…

You: sorry this is so last minute. are you busy tonight? 

Vessel: no, I’m not. Why?

He bites his lip as he waits to see what you’re planning. He wonders if you want to talk about what happened…or maybe do it again…or maybe act like nothing happened. 

You: I just don’t want to be alone tonight.  Vessel: I don’t want to be either.

It’s set then. He’ll go to your place…maybe have some drinks…maybe get a chance to thank you for the fun. He wanted to taste you. To make you cum like he did for you. Too many nights he spent wondering what you’re into. He had cast you in his mind as a soft domme, probably just because that’s what tickled his fancy at the time. But you had this caring…almost nurturing sense about you that night. You touched him like he was precious…like he would break if you didn’t take your time. He wanted to show you he was tougher than that. He could take it. The mere thought of even getting a chance to kiss you and make you feel even a fraction of the pleasure you gave him made his cock twitch. The time between now and when he was reunited with you would be torture.

But when he gets to your place, he doesn’t feel confident enough to act smooth or even touch you. If anything, he wanted to touch your hair. Literally just brush back the strands you missed when you tucked it behind your ear. Finally he musters the courage to stand beside you as you’re getting him some water. You’ve sucked his dick, the least he can do is move your hair. He moves in for the kill…but perhaps a bit too fast, because just as his hand reaches your personal space, you turn your head to look up at him and... receive a cheek full of Vessel knuckles. 

He moves quickly to cup your face, desperate to show you he didn’t mean to whack you, but he’s greeted with a surprised chuckle and your smile. Not that one you put on for friends or staged photos…your real smile. He could die happy right now. Just absolutely melt. If he ever wanted to write true, honest to god love ballads he would think back to this moment. This gooey, gushy feeling. He feels confident, the same confidence the mask gives him, and presses a soft kiss where he accidentally got you.

“Ves…” 

You still smile but he sees something behind your eyes. Vessel keeps his hands on your face…his heart breaking and stomach dropping. He had noticed you weren’t posting regularly on your socials and even then you seemed a bit less animated. He’s learned your tells. There’s smudges from yesterday’s eyeliner that somehow looks effortless but still betrays the fact that you didn’t wash your face last night. In his mind, Vessel likened you to a shrinking violet. The kindest, most gorgeous girl who ever graced him with her presence trying to hide herself away. This wouldn’t do. Even though he didn’t feel like he had the emotional energy for himself…he desperately wanted to be here for you. After the past four weeks of falling down a rabbit hole imagining you as a soft, caring, dominant partner, he suddenly felt needed. He wanted to provide so bad it hurt. 

“What’s the matter, love?”

“I…” your voice cracks and you shake your head. He backs off a bit, letting you have some space. “It’s been a rough few weeks. I’ve…missed you and felt like…a fucking idiot the whole time.”

Vessel nods and takes a drink of his water. “Yeah. Getting laid didn’t fix us, did it?”

You laugh ruefully and cross your arms. “It’s made me worse. How about you?”

“You first.”

You roll your eyes and stretch your neck. Vessel nearly loses his mind at how you bite your lip as you look him up and down. This is what he wants. To be under your gaze. Please. Keep him there. His breath catches. You could tell him to leave right now and he would. But instead, you keep talking. 

“To be completely honest with you, I didn’t think there was anything between us other than like…being friends. So I don’t know what came over me when I just…literally threw myself at you. I shouldn’t have done that. That’s…stupid reckless behavior.” You wring your hands a little and look down. “How can I expect to be taken seriously if I just—“

Vessel puts his hand up. “Stop that.”

“But I’m serious, Vess-“

“I said…’stop that.’ I take you seriously. I’ve always taken you seriously.” Vessel considers you for a moment. While he’d love to take you to bed, he’s desperate to lift you up. To reassure you. “Love, if you think you shouldn’t be taken seriously, imagine how I feel. You could have written me off as a jerk for letting you—“ but Vessel stops himself before he waxes poetic about your blowjob skills and ruins the moment. “I didn’t even follow you after we were done. Call you. Message you directly. After everything…I shouldn’t even have the chance to be with you.”

You shake your head and look down. “I know you’re not after one thing…I know it. But…why can’t I believe it? It’s nothing personal, I swear I just-“

Something deep within propels Vessel to pull you in for a gentle kiss…and to his utter delight you melt right into his touch. You fit so ridiculously perfect in his arms and mesh so well against his lips. He lets out a soft moan right as you break the kiss. Vessel had already been taken with you, but now he was enchanted. “Give me a month. I’ll show you how serious I am about you. It’s not just the sex…I promise.”

Your breath is ragged…you’re overcome with emotion and desire. You nod up at him. “All the time you need…”

“Good girl…” Vessel cocks his head, amused that he just called you that. He meant it in an encouraging way but…if the shoe fits. “Would you like that? To be my good girl?”

Your eyes get a bit dark, but not out of anything malicious. Your chin raises. “Ves…I would be anything you asked me to be. I don’t think you understand what you’ve done to me…” You pause but Vessel can’t even begin to formulate a thought. Were you as borderline obsessive as him? “You shouldn’t be on my mind the way you are. I mean…what are you doing to me? You’ve shown me so much kindness and your own vulnerability…that shouldn’t turn me on. It’s endearing and admirable, sure, but why do I…I just want to take care of you. I’m sorry I just…I feel guilty for…for falling for you because see me and you let me suck you off…I mean…how old are we?”

He’s taken aback a little. Something in your mind is tricking you. “Sweetheart,” he cups your cheek, “if it makes you feel any better, I feel the same. When I saw how down you looked a bit ago…” he shakes his head and sighs, “took everything in me to not start confessing everything just to see you smile. I want you. I want…everything that makes you ‘you.’ And I get the feeling you want the same…right?”

For a long second, you don’t say anything. You stare up at him, glassy eyed. He doesn’t need verbal confirmation. He’s passed that. He’s no longer timid about you. His lips meet yours in an agonizingly slow, tender kiss. Vessel’s hips press you against your kitchen counter, letting you feel his excitement. It wasn’t pure arousal. It was the excitement of being open and honest with each other. The emotional push and pull of comforting you but also receiving your reassurance did things to him. Oh fuck. Oh no. This was love, wasn’t it? Your hands pull at his hips, bringing one of his legs between yours. You moan softly, and he pulls from the kiss.

“Do you think about me at all?” He whispers breathlessly? You moan as his lips ghost your ear. The feeling of your thighs tightening around him makes his cock twitch. He wishes your thighs were around his hips…or even his face. You bite your lip and whine a little as your hips buck involuntarily.

“I think about fucking you on my couch everyday.”

Obviously the next stop is the couch. Vessel sits down and pulls you to straddle him. His kisses become more ravenous. Finally…the girl of his dreams is on him. He’d do anything for you right now, but he wants you a little vulnerable. You, of course, had been pining, too. What’s the harm in being pathetic together? He pulls off your shirt and nearly looses his mind when your soft flesh comes into view. Your precious tummy. Your squishy tits. Fuck. It was all his. “Get your pants off.”

You hop off his lap and do as your told. Vessel just watches and unzips his pants, adjusting them and his boxers to let his cock out. He bites his lip and strokes himself teasingly as he watches you pull off your leggings and panties. Drooling at the sight of your nude legs…the hint of your pussy. He beckons you forward seductively, a little taste of what’s to come once you’re in reach. 

“How wet are you, love?” He asks, letting his fingers dip between your legs. You moan softly as his fingers trail up and down your slit, enjoying the wetness he’s caused. “I don’t even need to help you, do I? Excitable girl. Aren’t you?” All this gets from you is a nod. You’re so gone. He leans back on the couch and pulls you toward him. He’s still completely dressed in his henley and jeans, but you don’t seem to mind. He positions you on his cock and lets you set the pace. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since you’ve been fucked, but he knows to be kind and let you adjust to his size. His eyes roll back and his head thumps against the couch. Something about how your body takes his cock makes his insides melt. You run your fingers through your hair and arch your back as you lower yourself completely on him. “Don’t move…don’t move, love.” He adjusts slightly to bring your chest to his mouth. His soft kisses and kitten licks pepper your breasts, causing your pussy to clench. It feels amazing. He’s being so gentle, but on the inside he wants to ravage you. Even after getting off everyday for a month thinking about you, you still excite Vessel into a frenzy. 

“Oh…oh Ves…” you gasp as he takes your nipple between his lips. You both moan as his cock twitches against your sensitive walls, but he keeps you still, cockwarming as he teases and makes out with your nipples. He shamelessly buries his face in your chest and moans, squeezing your ass to pull you close. Vessel can hardly believe it. You’re finally in his arms, his cock is stuffed inside you, and you want his love just as badly as he wants yours. He pulls his face away from your body to look up at you and whisper.

“You’re my girl now. You know that?” He puts his finger that had touched your pussy in his mouth and sucks, making sure you how see gone he is for you. “Gonna make you so happy…”

Vessel can hardly believe what’s coming out of his mouth, but pussy from someone who accepts you unconditionally will do that to you. He thought he was only built for fleeting infatuations and hooks up. But here he was…making promises he’d sooner die than break. After playfully torturing you with how his cock twitched inside you every time you kissed him or made a little sound, he starts to move your hips.  You look positively angelic on his lap completely naked taking his cock. His eyes roll back and he realizes that whatever half baked fantasy he had about fucking you didn’t prepare him for how good you felt. How warm and safe he’d feel under the weight of your body. It’s almost too much. Not that he’d cum yet. No. He just wants to say stupid things like “I love you;” and “we should move in together;” and “please call me a good boy.” That little submissive voice was still in him. He knew you were responding well to him taking control but he wanted that gentle control from you again. 

“Am…am I good for you?” He rasps out as you steadily grind against him.

“Mhm…so good…you…you like being good?”

Vessel’s eyes roll back and he nods pathetically. “Just for you.” 

You bury your face in the nape of his neck and suck little pink love marks up and down it. He moans with each one, clenching your body impossibly close. “I can’t move when you hold me like that…” you say backing up a little. You take his wrists gently and pin them against the back of the couch. He licks his lips and smiles dreamily. “Oh you’re pathetic, aren’t you?” Your fingers intertwine and he lets out a contented sigh.

“So pathetic…”

“You like being good but you like getting in trouble, too, huh?”

Vessel’s brain is mush. He knows you’re lightly degrading him and he fucking loves it but he has no concept of what’s happening other than “yippee perfect girl is being perfect.” He just nods and lets you fuck him for all he’s worth, cumming when you wrap your dainty hand around his neck. 

Later at what can only be described as a debrief at the pub, you share a large basket of fries. Vessel takes a deep breath as he attempts to act normal after having his mind blown and emotions pulled in all kinds of different directions. “This is good, yeah?”

“The fries?”

“For Christ’s sake…”

“Oh sorry, you mean…us…yeah. This is good. Really good. Are you scared?”

Vessel looks at the table and then at you. Honesty is his only option. “Terrified.”

“Same.”

He ponders for a moment and puts his hand palm up on the table. “Do it scared?”

You plop your hand down on his, “and together.”

“Now about this gig next week. I need to start your lectures on progressive metal-“

“Oh god.”

[briarberrythornedhart]

Haywire

Contains: Eddie Munson & Reader, fluff, sincerity, vulnerability, friends to something more

🦇 ✏️ 🦇

You were just friends. Just hanging out. And you’d thought there would be more people around tonight as human buffer BUT NO it was just you and him in his living room. And he was sitting so close it made you dizzy.

Ope.

He caught you staring. Your gaze was lovingly drifting over his stunning features and when he noticed you looking, his eyebrows shot up.

He waved his hand in a slow figure eight, wiggling his fingers - like he was casting some sort of spell on you.

Maybe he was casting a spell on you? It would explain a lot.

“You okay in there?” He laughed. He snapped the fingers of his left hand a couple times and you must have jumped because then he snorted “Sorry, sorry! You zoned out, though...like...you left me, where’d you go?” He grinned at you, head cocked to the side.

“I’d never leave. I mean I’m paying attention, What is the next step?” You asked, trying to re-focus and NOT on his lips, or his jaw, or the length of his thick pretty neck that you so wanted to kiss and lick and bite down on …oh gawd... how you wanted to taste him all over!

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Ya sure you wanna do this? Right now?? It’s okay if you are bored. This is not the fun part for most folks.”

“Yeah! NO - I’m not bored.” You clutched your notebook to your chest and regulated your breathing. No more yelling FFS you told yourself. ” I told you - I’ve wanted to play DnD for a long time and you know… never got a chance to even roll up a character. The stars just weren’t aligned for it I guess and the group near me didn’t want me in the mix....”

“Well, that’s not a problem here. There won’t be any of that bullshit on my watch. There’s Equal opportunity for doom or glory in Hellfire Club.” Eddie let the words doom and glory rumble in his chest. Theatrical as ever.

“Thank you.” You smiled and felt heat flush your cheeks.

“You’re so welcome, you always are.” he shook his mane of hair and chuckled again, wry and self-effacing. Which you would NEVER have expected from this guy. When you were introduced to him he was cocky as hell, strutting around and getting right into your personal space and teasing you like you’d been close friends forever and then - you get him alone like this- and he transforms into this sweet and modest and shy… total gentleman.

You were so completely fucked.

I mean, if only. You wished you were. But this was all so sadly gentlemanly and platonic.

He licked his lips and tapped his pencil on the DM’s guide while he pondered something seriously. Your mouth watered. And since he was so intently not paying attention to you- you took him in - looked him all over.

Your lips felt suddenly so dry and hot and his lips were the cure for every little thing that afflicted you, you knew this. That his perfect lips were the Answer. They were pink, slightly redder and chapped and plumped by his own teeth worrying at his bottom lip and… oh he was speaking to you. Focus.

“But maybe we should wait till later?? Because you seem very baked right now.” Eddie took your pencil away from you, grinning. Your pencil that had made its way (eraser first) between your lips and was getting bitten to hell. “Sweetheart, It was just a beer and we shared that joint…Did you not eat anything today??” He looked mildly concerned. “Do you want a snack or something? Coffee? I think we have Sanka in the cupboard… although what would be the point....”

You shook your head. No.

You didn’t admit it but You were not high. Or tipsy.

That was the thing. Eddie did this to you.

Yes, you’d faked taking that hit off his joint — hoping to look very chill about him offering you one. You’d barely taken a sip of the PBR he’d offered.

You Didn’t need any single thing to make you feel as high as THIS. When you had those big pretty eyes looking at you?? You were floating!

His lashes fluttered when he inhaled, held in the smoke, and then his eyes stared into your soul when he blew out (blowing away from your face - politely) and that just made you want to do unspeakably depraved things. For him. To him. On him.

“We could just… hang out.” Eddie said. “Plenty of time to make a character before next Wednesday and stuff.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. we don’t need to have an activity to be ummm together, you can just ride that wave you are on and I’ll... play guitar at you or something.” He looked down again and huffed almost a laugh. “Obviously you don’t want That, no one wants that, but we could watch a movie....”

The overhead light cast the shadow of his lashes down over his cheekbones.

“I’d like to hear you play and sing one of your songs.” You said.

“Oh no no no,” Eddie leaned backwards and put his hands behind his head, legs spread at the knees - making you long to climb into his lap “I don’t know who told you I can sing... but they were exaggerating... I can scream my lyrics in my less than an octave range.”

“But you are the frontman, you play and sing lead, right??”

“That’s only until we can get Gareth a better mic set up - he’s got a great voice - like an angel.”

“I still want to hear you.” You crossed your arms over your chest and nodded. “c’mon”

“You know what? I think I like this bossy side of you. Is this what happens when you loosen up a bit, you order people around?” Eddie smirked. “It makes me want to do whatever you say.”

“Really?” You asked, your mind reeling at the impossibilities.

“Yes.” Eddie’s tongue rolled over one canine tooth. He pointed at you. “Don’t use your power over me for evil.”

You may have gasped. Just a little.

“Or do.” Eddie scootched closer and his knee touched yours. “Just don’t get me in trouble.”

“Show me what you wear on stage.” You said. Well... demanded.

“It’s not that different than this...” He gestured down at his ripped jeans and his Anthrax T shirt under his gray hoodie. “No corpse paint, no tight leather - we’re thrash - more substance than style. Noooo, don’t look at me all disappointed...I’m just not fancy.” He rubbed his hands over his face.

“I’m not disappointed, i just really doubt you play your fancy red crackle finish guitar... in a gray sweatshirt.”

“Okay, I wear a tank top or something cropped because it’s hot as balls on stage and I pull my hair back sometimes or put my bandana on to keep the sweat from dripping in my eyes, that’s the sum total effort I put in okay? you don’t Really want to hear about me sweating my ass off, right?? Grossing you out, right?”

“No. are you gonna show me or not.”

“Yes. mistress, if you take that tone I guess I must.” Eddie slapped his thighs and stood, “Be right back.” He turned half way down the hall. “If you laugh, you gotta go. You’ll be out that door, high or not.”

He shook his head as he retreated down the hallway and then in a few minutes he emerged with his hair up in a loose bun.

He did a slow awkward turn for you. He was in a scissor cropped Megadeth shirt, with his pretty red guitar unfortunately, blocking your view of his stomach. As he turned you could ogle the curve of his back - see how his underwear - probably cotton boxers - were visible just above his jeans and belt.

“See.... not much to write home about. Functional, though. Practical.” He shrugged.

“You look hot.” you said. without thinking.

Eddie gave you an assessing look. “That’s probably the ganja talking. Or did you mean I look overheated, because yeah, it’s a little warm in the trailer but...”

For some reason this made you furious. “No. You look fucking hot, Eddie! You always look hot and I’m not fucking high. C’mere.”

His eyes went wide, he unslung his guitar and leaned it gently against a chair. “Okay... mistress.” He jumped over the coffee table and sat at the edge of the couch - leaning forward. Leaning towards you - at attention. “Any other demands?” he wasn’t being sarcastic though...

“At shows, you should crop your shirts higher, you should go commando under your jeans “ you snapped the elastic of his underwear. “…and you should not invite me over when no one else is around because apparently I go a little haywire when we are alone together.”

Eddie leaned in and kissed you. A kiss like spun sugar, ephemeral, impossibly sweet, and over too soon.

“I go a little haywire when you are near me too.” He said.

[coquettemouse]

The loud ring of the school bell echoed through the hallway, and Leo instinctively covered his ears, wincing at the sound. He was used to it by now, but that didn’t make it any less unpleasant. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the new kid—Jason—doing the exact same thing, though his expression was different. He looked genuinely startled, his face tightening as if the noise had caught him completely off guard.

Leo watched him for a moment, curious. Guess I’m not the only one who hates that thing, he thought to himself.

Meanwhile, Piper was busy packing up her books and notebooks, neatly sliding them into her bag like the organized machine she was. She glanced over at Leo. “Earth to Leo? Our next class.”

Leo gave her a half-smile, still distracted. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.”

The two of them walked to their english class together, joining the crowd of kids heading in the same direction. When they entered the room, the teacher—Mr. Hermes—was already at the front, adjusting a stack of papers. He was this skinny guy with super messy hair and a beard that looked like he just forgot to shave. He always kinda looked like he just rolled out of bed, but he had this cool vibe about him, the kind that made even boring stuff seem kinda fun.

Leo liked Mr. Hermes. He always had a joke or a story up his sleeve, and he wasn’t afraid to bend the rules a little bit if it meant making class more fun.

“Alright, everyone, settle down!” Hermes called out, clapping his hands. “We’ve got something a little different today. I’m giving you an activity to work on in groups of three.”

The class perked up slightly at that. Group activities were always better than sitting through a lecture.

Mr. Hermes continued, waving a paper in the air. “Here’s how it’s gonna work. I’ll hand out the instructions, and you’ll work with your group to come up with some creative answers. You’ll have until the end of class, so don’t waste time deciding on your trios.” He paused, grinning. “And yes, you can pick your own groups.”

The room erupted into chatter as everyone started looking around, deciding who they wanted to team up with.

Piper tilted her head, clearly already thinking about their group. “So, who should we—”

“I wanna team up with the new kid!” Leo blurted out, cutting Piper off. He pointed right at the blonde boy sitting in the back, all quiet like he was trying not to be noticed. Leo didn’t really know why, but something about him just made Leo want to drag him into their group. Maybe it was because he looked so... out of place. Or maybe Leo just thought it’d be fun to see what his deal was.

Piper blinked at him. “Him? Why?”

Leo shrugged, grinning. “I dunno, I just wanna talk to him. He looks kinda cool. And, y’know,” he added with a cheeky glint in his eye, “he probably needs help making friends or something.”

Piper rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. “Fine. But don’t scare him off, okay?”

Leo ignored her and turned to Jason, waving him over. “Hey, Jake! Wanna join our group?” he called out, loud enough for half the class to hear.

Jason’s head shot up, his eyes widening slightly as he looked at Leo, then Piper, then back at Leo again. For a moment, he hesitated, like he wasn’t sure if Leo was serious. But then, with a small, uncertain nod, he grabbed his notebook and slowly made his way over to their table.

Leo beamed. “Cool! You’re with us now. I’m Leo, by the way. And this is Piper. Don’t worry, we’re pretty awesome.”

Jason gave a small smile, his voice quiet but polite. “Thanks. I’m Jason, actually.”

“Yeah, I know,” Leo said, leaning back in his chair. “Mrs. Roberts introduced you, remember?”

Jason shifted awkwardly, clutching his notebook to his chest. “Um, yes,” he said softly. “You called me Jake.”

Leo blinked, then let out a chuckle. “Did I? Oops, my bad. Jason, Jake, same thing, right?”

Piper rolled her eyes, giving Leo a playful nudge. “No, it’s not the same thing, genius. Maybe try listening for once.”

Leo shrugged and Piper let out a sigh. “Well, welcome to the group, Jason. Let’s see what Mr. Hermes has in store for us.”

Leo leaned forward, his excitement bubbling over. “Don’t worry, dude. We’ve got this. With me on your team, there’s no way we can lose.”

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 1/21/2025

hey it's fucking snowing here in houston texas! what the fuck!

listening: toes by the glass animals

reading: the steerswoman series by rosemary kirstein, and the gay and lesbian erotica book of the week, candidate by tracey richardson

watching: various david attenborough documentaries

playing: brief genshin impact report

making: banana bread

listening

glass animals' toes: my best friend's husband and i were chatting about music my best friend introduced us to, and my god there's been so much! i remember back in 2018 i did not expect to like them bc we had wildly diverging indie rock tastes at the time, but they really do scratch something in my brain. very good writing music, bc each album has such a tightly curated vibe and the words are recognizable english but so poetic as to be mostly nonsense. this song is loosely about The Island of Dr Moreau. my best friend has described this song as "like listening to crayons melt"

I'm a man, I'm a twisted fool My hands are twisted too Five fingers, two black hooves I'm a man, don't spin me a lie Got toes, and I can smile I'm crooked but upright

a song for very few blorbos but when it hits for a blorbo it Hits yanno

-

reading

im having a brain time that is favorable to reading many books in one week. we're going to start with some i loved and then go to the gay and lesbian erotica, which i did not love and did not finish.

talking about which post led me to this series would give you an enormous spoiler for the book. we're going to yoink the Setting from wikipedia:

A Steerswoman is a traveling scholar, required to answer any question asked of them, as long as the asker answers truthfully in return. Anyone refusing to answer a Steerswoman's question is placed under a ban, and no Steerswoman will answer their questions in future. Only wizards do not respect the Steerswomen, maintaining intense secrecy around their magic. Kirstein's work is often characterized as science fantasy. Jo Walton describes the Steerswoman series as "not only science fiction, but more science fictional than anything else."[1] Cory Doctorow says of The Steerswoman, "even the book's genre is a riddle that you'll have enormous great fun solving."[2] The Steerswoman series addresses themes of technological development, inter-species interaction, and distribution of knowledge.[4]

i ADORED these. i did basically nothing for two days except apply to jobs and read these books. these are physics brain books. these are Science Fiction with the capitals on books. the first chapter has someone derive a bit of orbital mechanics from first principles by making logical inferences from a chart she drew in the dirt about distribution of certain jewels. despite that, it's never boring! sometimes the steerswoman Rowan will puzzle over something for several chapters before something finally clicks for both you and her. the books are one big nested riddle, and you have all the pieces from the beginning! it just looks so strange from Rowan's eyes that you don't figure it out until she does! and even when you figure out one bit you just have more questions!!! and despite knowing a huge spoiler going in, part of it really blindsided me! it was a very clever bit of writing! good job rosemary!!!

and now for the gay and lesbian erotica book, which again has a 3.8 on goodreads and again i have no idea why. published in 2008 by Bella Press in a very indifferent perfect-bound ~250p softcover with the most creasable cover imaginable, our author Tracey Richardson is a Canadian writing about an American presidential candidate. from what i read, the political speeches were the best part of the book. this was genuinely groundbreaking and revolutionary in 2008 for a Democratic presidential candidate to openly support the LGBTQ+ community! i think Tracey put a more progressive veneer on some of JFK's speeches but that's okay they still hit! that man did have some talented staff members and a great stage presence!

i tortured my best friend by reading snippets of this aloud and removing her toddler daughter from various mischief as she cooked, and we got really stuck on the presidential candidate Jane's age. she is forty three. she is a medical doctor. she lost her husband ten years ago when she had her own private medical practice at THIRTY THREE. she left for a year to do Doctors Without Borders, started a nonprofit in America about healthcare access, and is now a second term senator. this had my bestie and i doing back of the envelope math and we can only conclude she never slept or went on vacation.

i have many beefs with this book, both petty and with regards to construction. my best friend got extremely peeved at the description of someone's accent as "a well heeled eastern seaboard accent". WHAT the fuck does that mean. WHERE on the eastern seaboard??? the standard American Newscaster Accent is faintly midwestern. did they have a sort of bland tidewater politician faint drawl? who knows! this canadian author cannot tell us :(

Tracey is a big fan of dropping details very late. eg we only find out on page 8 after a lot of dialogue that love interest/Secret Service agent Alex has a southern accent. Five pages into a party scene we find out she’s wearing a hawaiian shirt. i had to go back and reread the entire party scene with that in mind. on page 42 we find out Alex is an Olympic gold medal hockey player in the first year women were allowed to play Olympic hockey. earlier in the book we see her playing hockey for funsies with her rec league and we also go over her dossier in detail with Jane. either place would have been a great place to bring this up!!!

this book is also very reverent of the office of usa politicians in a way i find strange for a canadian. and for alex, a somewhat jaded civil servant. alex!!! she’s just a rich nepo baby and has good stage presence!!!! stop falling for it!!!

as a bisexual, novels about straight widows turning lesbian really bother me sometimes. this was one of the ones that really bothered me. it's kind of insane how little bisexual fiction there is compared to the strongly represented pan and poly communities. this was 2008 though so pansexuality wasn't really as mainstream, i don't remember hearing much about it until i went to college in western massachusetts in 2013.

i had to stop reading this book bc it hit me with the following:

these are both cis women. does she have an infection??????? is she okay???? the book is not going to get better from here. books rarely start out bad and then improve. i have only a limited amount of time here on god's green earth and i want to read the thirteenth volume of witch hat atelier instead. gentle reader, i hope you understand.

-

watching

again if i could log individual children's tv show episodes i would be winning letterboxd. i half-watched a lot of david attenborough docs in the background and fell asleep on a couch to his soothing voice. there are some fucked up little guys on this planet.

-

playing

good fucking riddance, even though this is basically a slap on the wrist. the multiple-step in-game currency exchanges in order to get the main in-game currency for pulling for characters is one of the more underhanded gacha systems. gambling is an ancient human activity, it is not instantly harmful or instantly addictive, and there will never be a good way to legislate it out of existence, but i do think some more predatory practices (like this one!) should be legislated.

nothing to report about actually playing genshin this week. a big yearly event approacheth, however. excited to bring you news of the new four-star character, a basket weaver

-

making

banana bread embarrassment. i hate my kitchen so fucking much. my fridge and oven both need to be replaced but will my landlord do that???? no. this oven is from 2007 and does not hold a consistent temp, which is fine if im roasting chicken thighs and it randomly spikes the temp and doesn't heat in one quadrant, but it makes it Very Difficult to bake. i think this was a combo of an inconsistent inner temp and forming a slightly burnt crust that did not want to pull out of the perhaps undergreased pans. fuck an aldi nonstick spray i guess. i SLATHERED that thing and it still had to be persuaded out of the pan.

i consistently forget that martha stewart consistently produces baked goods that are just a touch oilier than i like. you could lose a good two tablespoons of butter in this and not notice it much, i think. a very wet recipe. added in one orange's worth of zest bc i like it.

[docholligay]

"Well... first of all, I'm not discouraged. I'm sad sometimes about things that I see happening around me in Washington or on the news. I did not come here to tell you everything's going to be fine. I'm not here to tell you that. Everything's not going to be fine. You know, everything's never been fine.

And if you think through our lifetimes or through history, things that are most compelling, most inspiring, most choice-worthy are the differences that have been made in the most difficult circumstances, or the confrontation of the most ugly problem.

I doubt any of you was inspired to be interested in public service because you read about some relatively easy problem where everyone agreed what to do and then they did it and everything was fine, right? We choose to do these things because we know first of all it matters who gets involved, and it matters what the outcome is. And that's hard, and it's always been hard. I don't know if this is inspiring, maybe it's a little bit comforting is that to the extent that we do figure these things out in our lifetime, the most difficult and painful things we were involved with will be romanticized by future generations looking for inspiration.

You know, I grew up envying my parents a little bit for living in the 60's, which from the calm and sometimes even politically boring times of the late 90's and early 2000's seemed just cooler. And my parents would say things to me like 'That was a terrible period! It was terrifying. People were getting assassinated and my friends were getting sent off to war. And it all looks cool now because you listen to the arts that flourished in response to the horrors our generation were being subjected to.'

But the way we navigated that, often the hard way, inspires us because of how tough it was on the way in. And I think that's kind of what makes all of this work worth doing, which is why I'm not discouraged, and why I'm not checking out and why I'm not giving up.

How can we give up? We don't have the right to give up. Like, think about the stuff that other people didn't give up in the face of. And then think about how things change. And yes, sometimes things change for the worse. And sometimes things don't change in time. But sometimes things change faster than you ever thought they would. As recently as when I was sitting in the seat of a student at an institution not that different from the Ford school, watching politicians come and give speeches, wondering if I'd ever be among them, I knew that I probably wouldn't because I was categorically disqualified from holding office, where I came from, because I was gay. And then I wasn't. [laughter]

I was gay! I wasn't disqualified! Things change but that didn't just happen because I waited around long enough. It happened because other people put their careers on the line and their futures on the line and made it change in less than one political lifetime. So that I get to be here, as a cabinet official, offering the world according to Pete, to a room full of students weighing what our complicated future is going to be. So how dare I give up, right? And all of us have our own reasons for being in this, and all of us have our own reasons for feeling the temptations of being discouraged. But if you're not out there doing this work, someone else will be.

As you can imagine that has a particularly specific implication for those of us who are literally seeing the people who will be doing the jobs we've been doing. But that's true whether the job so to speak is a job job, or the job of an activist or the job of a researcher.

Somebody's going to be doing this, and you, your kids, and your kid's kids, will be living with the implications of the choices they made. Wouldn't you rather it be you?"

Pete Buttigieg, after being asked for inspiration by a student at the Ford School for Public Policy

[spid3r-trans]

spiderband -> nightmare blunt rotation

[aroaceofthesea]

Today i spent over 7 hours straight playing mao someone needs to stop me

[4ddi3addie2005]

Before I went to bed I saw the Youtube notif that TADC was going to Netflix and it INVADED my dreams so vividly I have not had such an episodic sequential serialized cohesive dream in months it was literally its own chapter its own short story

[louismygf]

just recently watched this is us with my college friends

[bluehairmisfit]

Help me I have problems

[pilonciillo]

i genuinely don’t know how i’m supposed to act at my age

[nexus-nebulae]

ppl always say that autistics don't get jokes but honestly when has a neurotypical person ever clocked the fact that I've told a clearly telegraphed joke like. I'm the one who takes everything too seriously?

[br1ghtestlight]

love how elusive the years between 18 and 30 are for both bob and linda in the show. we dont know ANYTHING we don't know if linda went to college if she had friends or roommates how she met ginger if she was still living with her parents how she met hugo WHAT HER PREVIOUS JOB WAS?? and for bob we don't know if he still worked at his dads restaurant after their fight if he still lived with him where he could've lived or worked otberwise if he had friends or roommates what his plan in life was. and we'll never know the answers to these questions either bcuz I don't think the writers actually thought that far ahead

[everyone-calm-down]

I think we as young people get caught in thoughts of activities we SHOULD do and things we SHOULD like when really we’re allowed to not like them.

I never went to a high school party, like I had sleepovers but I never went to one of the classic movie parties that get framed as a universal formative experience for American teens. I just never wanted to.

So I thought I’d have that formative-partier experience in college. At a college party or the club or somewhere. “The club” whatever that means. But I never did. I don’t drink, and I got tired at 11pm because I went hiking in the morning, and none of the friends I made went to nightclubs either. At least not regularly. So in the four years I went to college I never went to a nightclub.

And I’m not sad or regretful about that AT ALL. There was a time where I thought I SHOULD be tho. I SHOULD be sad that I never went to a rager in my early twenties. But I’m not. I SHOULD be sad that I never went to a high school party. But I’m not. I look back on that time and don’t regret a single thing. Not in a “I still have time to be a partier” way (even though that’s true) but in a “I’m not a partier and I wasn’t a partier and I’m probably never going to BE a partier” way.

And that’s fine. I like the adult I’ve turned into and none of the things I like about myself were traits that would have come from getting drunk to EDM. And there aren’t any traits I wish I had that would come from it either. I might have missed some iconic experience but I am not worse off for it. And I’m not better off for it either. I just am the person that I am and I like and dislike the activities that I do and that’s okay.

[faaun]

the way my heart sank . lol