#wowzies

[number-1-harumi-hater]

tomato fanatic

[theplayer-io]

"Always in my mind, always in my mind-mind... ☆☆"

good days - sza

[transonlyspace]

:o found my post on pinterest

[redwolfstabs]

OH SHIT

Hope you like his socks

Please give credit if you use or repost

[sobstoryofaloz3r]

vent/rant 10; detachment core

I feel so detached from everything. Like if I disappeared there wouldn't be a difference. I'm not special anymore. I'm not important. I'm not anyone's best friend, I'm just here. The backup. Some fucking loser. I don't have a place in life. And I've always wanted to grow up to be something big, maybe go to a different universe or star in super cool movies and shows-, but frankly, I don't care if I don't anymore. I'm usually not like this, I know that. But Kirloepys fronting right now, seasonal depression isn't helping, and neither is my current situation/position in life. No one gives a shit about me except like one person, and they're way happier when I'm not around anyway. I'm a misfit. I've never fit in, never have and never will. I've never felt like I've belonged, I've always felt like no matter who I'm with, they're not everything, like something's always missing- like it's just not me. I hate having OSDD, because no matter who I'm with, I'll never fully be satisfied, they'll never match all the expectations of all my alters combined, and I hate myself for it. I hate myself for everything. I don't even know if I have OSDD. maybe I'm just weird. Maybe I just have a lot of styles. (I'm in denial). But I hate myself. No one likes me. I've gotten so close to so many people and they just fucking leave me. Just like that. Six years of friendship? Oh well. Seven years of friendship? Down the drain! Do they feel bad about it? No. They fucking don't, I bet if I died they wouldn't even think twice about not going to my funeral. Yet I'm stuck here, attached and mopey over them. No matter how cold I try to act, deep down I'm that stupid kid who loves everyone and can't let go. That stupid kid who does care. And oh how I wish I fucking didn't. I hate everyone. Everyone's annoying. I don't care if that makes me shitty for saying it, they wouldn't feel shitty saying it about me. I know I'm shitty though. That's the difference between me and them. I KNOW I'm a terrible person. But they think their actions are justified, and they're perfectly fine. They're not. They're terrible too. My actions aren't justified, but at least I can fucking acknowledge it. Anyways. Back on topic, no matter where I am or who I'm with I js. Idk. I don't fit in. I feel out of place. Like they'd be better off without me. 'Oh, it's just anxiety!!' it's not. It's really. not. There's a thick line between anxiety and actually disliked. No one would notice if I disappeared. It'd take them at least a week to figure it out, and they'd get over it in like a month. No one would care-, no one does care. I'm the therapist of everyone, I actually help them with their problems and comfort them, that's the only thing I'm good at. I guess it makes me feel good about myself-, maybe it's my way of making up for all the terrible shit I do. Idk. Anyway, I'm the therapist of everyone. Yet I can't be bothered to tell anyone about my problems, and I know it's unhealthy but oh how I love the taste of my pain dripping down my throat, my stupid melancholy depression that will never go away because I hate change, and it's the only thing that won't. It's comforting-, because it's all I've known and who am I without my suffering? Without my depression? I'll be happy, sure, I CAN be happy. But if I'm happy for too long, if I love life for too long--, it'll feel bad. I'll feel guilty. I'll feel ashamed and start wondering if I'm changing, feeling like I'm missing a piece of me. And then I'll resort back to what I'm used to. Depression, pain, suffering, etc. The truth is I don't WANT to get better. But I don't wanna feel like this either, yet at the same time I do. Myself arguing with myself, per usual. I hate it. Anyway, sometimes shit just feels 2d. Like it's unreal, and then sometimes I'll just disassociate myself from everything, yet I'll somehow know what's going on. As if I'm programmed to do it. Don't even have to learn, just know. It's weird. It's odd. I feel as if I'm some robot in a simulation. 1/2

[lakecitysilenceme]

my driving lesosn today is incredible!

filled with hate speech on ambiental preservation & mental illness!

leaving the digital bubble is truly something

[catgirlmissy]

I need her to dry now but gradient

[cowgirlcherrie]

this is doing well can’t belivee y’all liked this hehe it makes me so happy! anyways I have a florist! abby drabble coming soon a spin off of my headcanons

STARTEAM ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ volleyball! loser! ellie drabble

a/n: there is no plot for this it’s just a thought I haven’t been able to shake since seeing the amazing volleyball! ellie art by @caspervi ♡♡

volleyball! ellie art. support their work here!

update: also just realized @elliespeach has a wonderful volleyball! ellie fic and basically kickstarted the idea so support their work here too !!

content: 18+ MDNI, sexual themes, lowk saliva play if u squint bro, fem! water girl! reader

— song(s): STARTEAM by lastclass & byelilfly

Ellie was in timeout. 

Well not literally, but being benched felt like she was. Suddenly she was 5 again and her teacher was moving her card to red, for her indecent behavior. Ellie wanted to whine, she wanted to fight back – bitch and moan. She had been putting in the work! Up in the gymnasium at the crevice of the glowing somber night to practice her bumping and setting; perfecting her spikes and it seemed as if she would never get to reach tranquility. She couldn’t be an ace, she couldn’t beat her opponents. 

She was drenched in sweat head-to-toe —  the fabric of her jersey sticking to her chest like glue. Beads of fresh sweat dripped down her forehead as she licked her dehydrated lips. She needed to breathe. But Ellie didn’t know breath control. She didn’t know stopping either, her routine was damaged, she was jaded and her brain was fuzzy the plays didn’t even make sense to her. Her brain was insanely flawed.  Nothing but incoherent doodles as her coach yelled in her face to take 5. 

All she knew was routine:

Wake up at 5 am. Go for a run at 7 am. Nutritious breakfast at 9 am. Practice 10-4 pm. A quick nap and muscle soak before a game.

All her hard work burned into ashes; eventually to dust and crumbs as it became nothing but a false sense of dedication. Sleepless nights and aching muscles just to be benched. Ellie was incandescent. Her eyebrows furrowed, cheeks a pulsing red – like clown makeup from the intensity. Her blood cells flowed healthily and her heartbeat was in the root of her ears like the pulsing of the music that kept her going.  While some may say a body is a temple; her’s was a ticking time bomb ready to go off in any second. 

Ellie couldn’t keep her eyes open, the sound of sneakers against the freshly polished floors made her eardrums bleed, similar to scraping a metal ruler against a school board. 

Dropping her head as she looked down at her legs. Her thighs were drenched in sweat the shin guards cutting off any circulation, making her thighs look wonderfully plump and 10x more muscular. Ellie was becoming hyper-aware until a sudden tap on her back and a sweet toothache-inducing smell filled her nostrils. 

It was you.

The water girl, her hero. Just the right person to fix her cravings. A thin white ridged paper cup in your hand with water filled to the brim as you held it out in front of you with a gentle smile. Ellie always thought your sweetness was ravishing. She thought her teammates were undeserving of such pleasure and authenticity from you. The other girls would dim your light – and by dimming it she meant flirting with you. Calling you sweetheart and asking to take you out to dinner which was followed by your rich voice telling them, “It’s unprofessional!” but she was too bashful to admit it; she wanted to do it too. 

The word baby could not escape her lips without being immediately flustered by it, Ellie was too smitten and starstruck by you. Quiet and lightly spoken, hell she was called ‘Bitchless 7 Williams’ for a reason. Stuttering over her words, hands shakier than ever, her affection becoming aggression she wanted nothing more than to drag herself out. She wishes she could be more flirty, more outspoken; then just maybe she would have been lucky to snag you, her water girl. 

You knew she could get down, she palpably could get rough with the right motivation. It was the way her anger transcended on the court, you were sure it would manifest in other places too. But part of you loved it, it turned you on, when you were alone at night, entangled in your duvet as you wondered what she would look like calling out your name. She was a fucking loser, a pathetic whiney player that still took the fall.

Initially, you thought you were sweeter; more gentle but Ellie was more bashful than you. She wasn’t like her teammates. Ellie didn’t make eye contact with you at all or call you names. She did, however, stare at your boobs for too long through your tightly fitting workout jacket that hugged every crevice of your body just right. Giving your boobs an extra push. It was perverted, but you caught her every time. Coincidentally that’s what got you hooked on her. You weren’t going to stop her. 

Like a hound dog you could smell what she wanted, you never failed to see the drool finally dripping from her tongue that she masked by bringing up her cup with great speed as the stretchy saliva dripped down the edge of her fingers and her cup. You did notice how she would leave a sticky residue; her clear fluids all over the cup before handing it back to you. Running off right before you can get a word in.

“Hope you’re thirsty It took me hooours to pour this” you teased, holding out the cup towards Ellie with a smile. That soft grin of yours that easily made anyone swoon on you. Ellie caught herself doing it again. In a room with so many people, her team, friends, and family, she sent a quick look at your boobs before looking back at the sparkles in your eyes. Like diamonds and pearls; vibrant and warm. Lewd thoughts raced in her brain like gnats. 

She was giving you teeth, as she took her shirt up; again, to wipe her forehead clear of the everflowing liquid. 

“Oh yeah,” Ellie taunted back, with a smirk on her face. She wasn’t sure where this confidence was coming from, so she reached out to take the cup from you. Bringing the cup up to her lips as she tilted her head back, taking large gulps of the water not breaking eye contact with you. You saw the string of saliva again as she dropped the cup from her lips, taking a soft breath. 

“More . . .” Her voice was breathy as if she ran a mile. 

“More what?”

“More water…please?” Ellie pleaded, she spoke fast and in a whisper shaking the empty cup as she handed it back to you.

“Sure thing Els,” You confirmed taking the cup from her hands feeling the sudden dampness of her drool around the cup. Almost damaging to the deteriorating paper. “You got something here”

You pointed to your own chin with your pointer finger, as Ellie quickly rushed a hand up to wipe off any excess liquid with the back of her hands, fingertips covered in bandaids. 

“Sorry,” it was a quiet whisper. 

You turned to the back this time giving Ellie a full view of the way you looked in the short shorts — that were almost as tight as your top. Ellie had to look away. Almost as if she were being under surveillance, she had to behave; control her wandering eyes that betrayed her more than often.

Just as you were about to give Ellie the cup again, a shout from her coach filled the spacey gymnasium. With that simple shout, Ellie became a machine. Lifting her legs up forgetting about her water request and rushed back onto the court. If she was so lucky to have the chance, she’ll fetch the water from you later. Hopefully with a reward on her back. 

Williams! Back on the court! Let’s try it again #7 Hustle! 

[thevoiceofdesertbluffs]

rory is getting me into 8:11 after having me second-hand smoke the blunt that is that game for like. the past month

[thebuttsmcgee]

I just saw one of my own posts on my dashboard

[verecunda]

Possibly it's just because I've been on the verge of a panic attack all day, but I'm actually irl cackling at my sister's response to this picture of Arch Hall Jr. 😂

[vellamare]

Good shit GOOD SHIT

pfff. redraw.

[meowmoewz]

hello kitty btcz ain’t insane!

Hello kitty btcz:

[scoupsofjisung]

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ texting han jisung to wash the dishes pretty please

🧸 paring: han jisung x gn! reader

🧸 author rambles: this is my first text fic ever!! i was kinda just experimenting with the format, thanks hanji for being my test subject!! i hope this was somewhat cute and or made you smile. im very much a “finding beauty in the mundane” enthusiast, so im predicting lots of my works will be fluffy mundanity <3 (i also ramble a lot) (im also in a very “babe” and “baby” mood and it’s bleeding into my writing) (ALSO OMG headcanon that hanji sends <4 to show he loves you MORE than the standard <3. what a dork) anyway, enjoy!!

masterlist

blog info post!

[beepject]

i usually don't do traditional art but...... did i cook

[garussy]

The only way I can correctly describe how The Wild Robot made me feel is Test Drive from How to Train Your Dragon on repeat for an hour and 42 minutes