#I genuinely think I’ve felt like this since high school consistently and that fucking sucks

[hey-op-just-kill-me]

The desire to drop out of college and never go back is so fucking strong… but I can’t quit something without feeling bad about it for a decade later so I really don’t know what to do

#shh shut the fuck up ollie #sorry my brain is just fuzzy and fucked up rn #I have a break coming up soon but like I have three research papers due by the end of the semester and I really just don’t wanna do this #it’s like the impending feeling of dread and doom yk #and like I know I should go back to therapy bc I’ve been feeling like this since idk August I think?? maybe April of last year?? #I genuinely think I’ve felt like this since high school consistently and that fucking sucks #because I love that I’m going to college where I am and I got friends but like I’m only here for the fucking film program not all the extra #so I just have to suck it up and get it over with but like I just wanna edit silly little movies not discuss Alexander the Great or #the concept of garbage in society or fucking Scottish imperialism #like I went to college for film not everything else and I just can’t get myself to give a shit anymore #and I’m just sitting in this spiral of shit where I can’t claw myself out of no matter how much I try I’m just in this bottomless pit #and I can’t escape it and my mom just keeps giving me an attitude for not being this cheerful bitch but I just don’t have the energy anymore #and I keep leaving school early because I have such a long break on Tuesday and Thursday so what’s the point but I can’t do that #because I have to pass and to pass I have to go #but I just always feel like shit it’s like an underlying feeling and every time I try and talk to my parents about it #it’s like stfu what do you have to be sad about you’re going to college getting to experience going into the city everyday but I just can’t #I can’t pull myself out of it and talking about it with my parents just feels weird but I can’t talk to anyone else either so I’m just #sitting here waiting for SOMETHING but I have no clue what that something is ykk

[aimmyarrowshigh]

Dark Greetings this Spooky Season Ms. V. Can we get a list of your favorite Halloween movies and specials? I know you have seen *everything* and I am trying to go beyond my usual rewatches this holiday month.

V. AIMMYARROWSHIGH’S CRITERIA FOR HALLOWEEN EPISODES

Does the Halloween element combine convincingly with the usual universe of the show (ex: Lizzie McGuire 2x09 “Those Freaky McGuires” is not good as a Halloween episode because it changes the rules of the Lizzie McGuire universe, whereas Community 2x06 “Epidemiology” is a GREAT Halloween episode because it manages to logically introduce zombies to the regular Community universe)?

Does the Halloween element advance the plot of the episode/series (ex: the reason Boy Meets World 5x17 “And Then There Was Shawn” is literally the best Halloween episode ever made is that it uses the horror movie tropes it satirizes to provide a CRUCIAL turning-point to the plot of the show)?

Is the Halloween episode in the forefront enough that it’s clearly a holiday episode (ex: HAVING ONE JACK-O’LANTERN ON A DESK DOES NOT A HALLOWEEN SPECIAL MAKE, LAW & ORDER 16x03 “GHOSTS”! You gotta go ALL-IN, like Bob’s Burgers 3x02 “Full Bars”!)?

Does the Halloween theme balance well between spooky and warm-n-fuzzy (ex: Criminal Minds 11x21 “Mr. Scratch” is too fucking bleak, but Criminal Minds 12x06 “Elliott’s Pond” has a joyous/celebratory tone to the ending despite being a genuinely scary episode)?

Is it generally a well-written, acted, and designed episode of television (ex: Saved by the Bell! 3x26 “Mystery Weekend” is seriously, not exaggerating, the worst thing I’ve ever watched in my life; Psych 1x15 “Scary Sherry, Or Bianca’s Toast” is a triumph of the medium)?

THE BEST, bar none, Halloween special ever made is Boy Meets World 5x17, “And Then There Was Shawn.” Period. There can be no argument, except MAYBE Community 3x06, “Epidemiology,” but I like “And Then There Was Shawn” better because the parody and homage as less… biting? And because I think it continues and addresses the emotional core of the regular BMW season better than “Epidemiology” does for Community s3. “Epi” DOES plant the seed (…heh) for the Season 3B major plot arc of Shirley’s pregnancy and Chang Deciding To Murder, but it gets some major minus points for mocking Yvette Nicole Brown’s weight with other characters’ responses to her costume, tbh. And “And Then There Was Shawn” is just fucking iconic. It is THE Halloween episode manual, IMO, if there were to be a textbook on how to write a perfect Halloween episode for your sitcom.

HOWEVER, I also have to give major props to Bob’s Burgers and Psych, as complete series, for their CONSISTENTLY excellent Halloween episodes. A lot of series that have multiple Halloween eps really phone it in after one or two, because they don’t have any more ideas for how to incorporate Halloween pastiches while maintaining the overall feeling of the series (tbh B99, while the Halloween Heists are excellent in general, is/has been coming very close to this line, and I think that if they HADN’T had to switch out the Heist to Cinco de Mayo in s6, they would have jumped their Heist Shark [and I think they know it, too, because it was lampshaded in the episode itself]) or they just straight-up don’t have any more ideas for what or how to have the characters they’re bound to parody or pay homage to a Halloween thing after they’ve already done one or two. And let’s be real: those one or two have probably been either The Shining or Rear Window, because those are pretty much the two that every show starts with.

Bob’s manages to make every Halloween episode feel very fresh and organic to the series, which I think they do have some leeway to do because of the nature of cartoons keeping the Belchers living a kind of loop of never aging, yk, but amazingly they’ve only done the “Tina feels too old to trick or treat, maybe? Nope, she’s not 14 yet, so there’s still time!” thing in a way that felt tropey once (in 3x02 Full Bars). They’ve been able to address Tina being 13/in 8th grade, and worrying about it being almost too late for her to keep trick or treating, in ways that were in-character and added to the overall episode in 4x02 Fort Night, 5x02 Tina and the Real Ghost, and 9x04 Nightmare on Ocean Avenue Street, without me rolling my eyes at the screen and going “TINA, EVERY SINGLE SHOW WITH A TWEEN IN IT HAS ALREADY DECIDED THAT THE AGE AT WHICH YOU MUST STOP TRICK OR TREATING IS FRESHMAN YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL, COME ON NOW” which… at this point, is a Feat. Because like, I’ve POSTED over a thousand Halloween episodes, right? But I’ve watched and screencapped ::checks folder:: 3,905 Halloween episodes since 2014. Which is, um, a. lot. The ACTUAL BEST Bob’s Burgers Halloween episode is 6x03, “The Hauntening,” which is just… achingly perfect television. I know I’ve posted about it before (probably a couple times tbh) but the way that it aired originally back-to-back with The Simpsons 27x04, “Halloween of Horror,” so that the evening of Sunday cartoons juxtaposed eight-year-old Louise whose family worked so hard to scare her like she wanted with nine-year-old Lisa’s family working so hard to keep her from being too scared and make sure that she felt safe… reader, I FUCKIN CRIED. Little girls being deeply loved while also Spoopy Things!!!!!! IS WHAT HALLOWEEN SPECIALS ARE!!! FUCKIN!!!!!! ABOUT!!!!!!!

Psych, though, has the benefit of not really having any, like… central tone to the series? Beyond “friendship” and “having fun with joking,” tbh? So it’s able to do what a lot of series get docked “points” for in my Foolproof Halloween Special Ratings System That Is Completely Subjective To My Tastes And Mood, which is really just run full-tilt into parody and homage without really worrying about overall tonal connection to the rest of the season or series. 1x15, “Scary Sherry, or, Bianca’s Toast,” while it DOES fall victim to the way-too-common Halloween episode trap of making mental hospitals into a Scary Thing (they are a medical normality and a necessary thing for health for many people and should not be feared), is delightful Spooky Fun AND has the benefit of having Shannon Woodward in it.* We all know by now that if an episode of any show has Shannon Woodward as the guest star, it will by default end up being one of the best, if not THE best, episodes of that series. It’s just how having Shannon Woodward as your guest star rolls. I also really like, with Psych’s Halloween episodes, that quite a few of them understand the underlying thematic scope of Horror, which is “The Monstrous Feminine Is A Thing And All Horror Tropes Are Actually About Women’s Interior Lives Because Men Can’t Write Women And Fear Women Always,” yk, in a way that is neither TOO Actual Horror, which I am too afraid of to Do, or too trite and demeaning, which is the other basic trap that Halloween stuff falls into A Lot. Like, Scary Sherry is very much about women villainizing other women, avenging other women, and being in very specifically-female pain, even though Shawn & Gus are still the lens through which we solve the mystery, and so are 4x04 The Devil Is In The Details And The Upstairs Bedroom and 6x03 This Episode Sucks. But they give their Monstrous Females dignity and breadth, which is impressive, ESPECIALLY since they’re one-off guest characters. Also, 3x15 Tuesday the 17th is just plain funny and well-done, like, just give it props for the title alone.

*(Speaking of Shannon Woodward, another amazingly good Halloween episode is Raising Hope 4x07, “Murder, She Hoped,” which is among my very favorite Rear Window homage episodes and has probably the funniest gag in ANY Rear Window ep, in Martha Plimpton floating across the screen in the Grace Kelly silk nightgown and peignoir and announcing that it was on sale at Walmart, can you believe?! and honestly, yes. Perfection.)

Also excellent:

• The Addams Family (1991) + Addams Family Values (1993) • Scooby-Doo and the Ghoul School (RAISE YOUR HAND IF YOU WERE GAY FOR SIBELLA AS A CHILD!) • Scooby-Doo and the Witch's Ghost (RAISE YOUR HAND IF YOU'RE GAY BECAUSE THE HEX GIRLS!) • Halloweentown + Halloweentown II: Kalabar's Revenge • Mom's Got a Date with a Vampire! • Z•O•M•B•I•E•S (to a lesser extent, Z•O•M•B•I•E•S 2) • Clue (1985) • Coraline • Corpse Bride • 6teen 2x00 Dude of the Dead • Arthur 21x00 Arthur and the Haunted Treehouse • Lamb-Chop in the Haunted Studio • Arthur 8x04A Fern-kenstein's Monster • Arthur 10x02 The Squirrels • WandaVision 1x06 The All-New Halloween Spooktacular (I KNOW YOU, SPECIFICALLY, DEAR @plavoptice, HATE MCU!WANDA AND I DON'T BLAME YOU, YOUR REASONS ARE VERY VALID! But this is a good Halloween special so I'm putting it on my list In General.) • Boy Meets World 2x06 Who's Afraid of Cory Wolf? • Ghostbusters (2016) • Gravity Falls 1x12 Summerween • Leverage 4x02 Ten L'il Grifters Job • The Loud House 2x40 Tricked! • Mockingbird Lane 1x00 Unaired Pilot • It's The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown! (Classic, etc.)

I'm SURE I'm forgetting some that I'll rewatch this year myself. I'm a big Halloween Baking Championship fan, tbh, which is on Discovery+ now so I recommend that if you like mostly-relaxing nice people baking cakes that look like bats and such.

I'm also IMMENSELY INTENSELY EXCITED for The Muppets' Haunted Mansion on Disney+ next week!!!

#halloween #**halloween

[whumpingcrow]

Ink Poisoning - Chapter 1

Introduction

Surprise! A new story, new characters, inspired by all the lovely authors of tumblr who do BBU or WRU writing :) enjoy!!

CW: BBU and everything in relation to that, drugs/alcohol, party themes/setting, plane mention, college setting, breakup mention, tattooing/tattoo shop mentions (let me know if I missed anything!)

Nicko and Salem had never really been too close. They lived a few houses away from each other in high school, had some of the same classes, and were tied in with the same friend groups. They were friends, as much as you could be friends with someone you only hang out with cause they’re close by, but not close by any means. Salem felt a certain way about Nicko, he always had, a way that told him to keep himself a safe distance from him. Maybe it was his recklessness, the way he did awful, often mean, things seemingly on impulse, just because it popped into his head and he wanted to follow through. He was unreasonably harsh and manipulative and just attractive and charismatic enough to not suffer the repercussions.

Because of this, Salem wasn’t really entirely sure how he had ended up living with the kid in his last two years of college. Both him and Nicko had gotten into the state college and were both art majors (Nicko was in visual arts and Salem in music), so they had been around each other since they both moved into the dorms as smooth faced freshmen. Nicko was on the football team for the first year and a half, then he got kicked from the team. At that point he hadn’t spoken to Salem for a while, so he never figured out the real reason why. He heard gossip, that Nicko was caught doing drugs, that he had slept with the coach’s daughter, that he’d been fighting, but it was impossible to know if it was the truth. On one hand, Salem wouldn’t exactly be surprised if it was something like that, but on the other hand he didn’t want to believe that he was that bad. After that, he focused on his studies. Salem saw him around campus working in sketch books or on a canvas, sometimes he would show up to a class covered in paint and tired, like he’d been working on something all night. He was also doing an internship at a tattoo shop, he got paid a lot to stab people with needles, and he genuinely enjoyed it. Plus, Salem had seen some of the stuff he’d made, and he certainly had talent, even though he was sort of a dick.

During that time, freshman and sophomore year, Salem was pretty preoccupied in his own respects, so these were the only things he really knew about Nicko. Those two years had been difficult, looking back on it he was surprised he was able to pass all of his classes with what he had going on. There was a messy relationship, horrible breakup, and he used it mostly to put into his music. He wrote some of his best pieces about it, so in a way he was thankful. He was better off now, anyway.

Now, he and Nicko lived together off-campus, along with three other art majors who neither of them knew too well, but rent was cheaper with more people and they were easy enough to get along with. School was almost over, it was their last stretch of their senior year, and things were good. Salem’s future was looking promising, he’d already been speaking to different producers and composers who he’d been set up with by his teachers, as soon as he graduated he would have enough saved up to buy his own place, closer to where he would work, on his own. Life was so simple, Salem was happy and hopeful and for once, things made sense. He just had to get through winter break, then the last few grueling months would crawl by, and then he would be free.

But then winter break came and went, Salem went back north to visit his parents, and when he got back things suddenly got...complicated.

Nicko would insist over and over again to Salem that they had “talked about this!” and he tried to persuade him by saying “you said it could be cool!” every time they talked about it afterwards. Salem told him that bringing it up as a concept while they were getting drunk after midterms was not talking about it.

What happened was someone had read an article somewhere, maybe it was from a click bait thing on Instagram or a frightening news article on facebook, and had brought it up while they were all throwing back beers before they went out to their own respective parties. It was about something Salem had only heard hushed whispers about online, he wasn’t even sure how legit it was because of how rarely he heard about it: boxies. The word made him cringe every time one of them threw it out drunkenly, like it was something cute. If what Salem had heard about it was true, they were essentially criminals who were brainwashed (or trained, as they liked to call it to sound more appealing) instead of taking another sentence. Box Boys, Box Babes, they had more gross marketing names, all involving a box. Supposedly it was because they were notoriously shipped to you conveniently in a box right to your front porch, as if they were an Amazon package. Yes, living human beings stuffed inside of a box and left on your porch, just waiting to be let out so they can start doing whatever it is they’ve been retrained to do. And somehow it was all completely legal, if you did it through certain companies.

So, that’s what they’d been talking about, when Salem looked back on it, all he remembered from the conversation was something like:

“Dude, how the fuck is owning a boxie legal at all? I was just reading this article and-”

"Those are like, those servant things you order online or whatever? I've heard about those, I think."

“That’s not the point, Nicko. I’m talking about how it’s fucking crazy this is allowed.”

“I think it’s cool. I mean if it were me I’d rather get to live in a house as like...a maid or whatever than go to jail. Jail sucks. I dunno, I think it’s cool. What about you, Cobain?”

Salem hated when Nicko called him that, he’d been doing it since freshman year, when one of Salem’s songs was suddenly being passed around the school in a youtube video he’d forgotten he’d posted. Nicko told him that it was edgy, that he sounded like Kurt Cobain. That would have been fine, Salem really wouldn’t have cared, if Nicko hadn’t personally told him before how much he hated Nirvana, how the music sucked. So every time he used the nickname it was patronizing, a little stab at him.

Still, Salem merely looked up from his laptop, he was probably checking back on his flight information for going back home, maybe checking to see if his test scores were posted yet, and scowled at him. “Yeah, Picasso, I think that owning a person is super cool.” He’d been sarcastic, obviously so, and Nicko knew that.

And still, here he was, telling Salem that he’d “agreed” to getting this boxie. Salem would disagree every time, and Nicko would just roll his eyes and shrug his shoulders and he would get away with it. He was always getting away with shit, it was really starting to piss Salem off.

The day Salem got back from break it had been snowing. The drive back from the airport was stressful, it was late, Salem just wanted to go home and sleep. Going back to the town he grew up in was draining, sometimes. It reminded him of complicated times and hopelessness. He wanted to forget all about those feelings, things were going good, he could be hopeful now, and going back home made those feelings a little...muted, for a while. So he figured he’d go home, get into bed, sleep it off, and get back to being hopeful in the morning.

Only he couldn’t do that, because of course Nicko was having a party. He usually called it “having people over”, because he was trying to be an adult now and that’s what adults usually said, but when it consisted of beer pong and body shots that didn’t seem like the right term. The lawn was covered in cars, so was the driveway, so were both sides of the street directly outside. Salem had to park halfway down the block, get his suitcase and guitar, and walk down the street. To his own house. He wanted to break Nicko’s face.

When he walked into the house, the air was thick with smoke and reeked of pot and sweat and booze. The living room was mostly empty, Salem could see from the front door that almost everyone was in the kitchen playing some sort of drinking game or outside. The house was a mess, almost all the lights were off so Salem couldn’t see the full damage yet, but he could tell that he wasn’t going to like it when he did. He shuffled into the house, kicking away cups and bottles as he walked past them. Part of him wanted to just turn around and get back in his car and drive far away, never come back and never see Nicko or this shitty house again. But he had to stick to his plan, he had to play it safe here.

“Salem!” He snapped his head up, in the direction of the voice, sighing when he saw it was Nicko’s girlfriend, Aurora. Or Rory, as most people called her. She had dyed her hair a bright, shocking blue since Salem had last seen her, if he remembered correctly she had it a pale pink before. Her makeup was dark and heavy, like it usually was, making her eyes look all that more intense and striking. Except for right then, because she was very obviously high, her eyes hooded and lazy. She was sitting on the couch, a boy who looked a lot younger than her on his knees right in between her legs. He looked even more fucked up than she did, glaring hard at the floor and swaying slightly as she raked her fingers through his messy, dark hair. As Salem approached them, the kid flinched away from him and snapped his eyes up to look at him. He didn’t pay too much attention to him, too distracted by his anger. Rory had to shout over the music just a little when she started talking again. “I was wondering when you were gonna be back! How was your tri-”

“Where the fuck is Nicko?” He interrupted. His hand was tight around the handle to his guitar case, he could feel his heartbeat in his closed fist.

Rory gawked at him, then her crimson painted lips turned up into a lazy smile and she laughed. “Wow, someone’s in a mood,” she teased, “why don’t you have a drink? Calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Rory. Tell me where he fucking is!”

Rory turned her attention downwards, toward the rough looking boy on the floor in front of her. Salem followed her gaze, realizing that he was now shaking, pressing his thin frame against Rory’s leg like he couldn’t get close enough. He was looking at Salem’s shoes, his face twisted up in a nervous frown. Rory instantly leaned close to him, hands on his cheeks and lips against his jaw, saying something in a real low, soft voice. She was calming him down, soothing him, Salem noticed, because he had frightened him.

Salem realized, then, how angry he sounded, shouting and cursing, and he sighed to himself. He decided he’d be better off just going to bed, putting in earplugs and waiting until the morning to deal with the problem. It’s not like he’d really be able to fight Nicko anyway, he was so much taller and he’d been on the football team and honestly Salem just wasn’t equipped for fighting. So he turned away from both of them and made his way down the hallway, to his room. He locked his door and set his things down, then he promptly stripped down to his boxers and got into bed.

The next morning, Salem was surprised to wake up to a clean, quiet house. He walked down the hallway, expecting at any second to see all of the trash pushed into a corner somewhere, he didn’t think Nicko would have cleaned up himself, unprompted. But it was clean all the way through, and he was impressed when he walked into the living room and saw Nicko, decked out in all black clothes and black boots, relaxing on the couch with his keys clutched readily in his hands, like he was leaving. He was speechless, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he approached him.

“Morning, sleepy head,” Nicko teased, tilting his head back and looking him up and down, “how was your trip?”

“Uh...good.” Salem answered, voice still gruff from sleep.

“Morning, Salem!”

He turned to see Rory standing there in fishnets and an oversized hoodie, dramatically tall heels wrapped around her ankles, making Salem wonder how she was standing straight. One time, when Nicko was busy doing an art piece or working on school work, he couldn’t remember now, she and Salem had been in the kitchen alone and Rory told him that she liked to wear tall heels because Nicko likes when she’s short and it entertains her to bother him. She said the best part of her day sometimes is irritating Nicko.

Behind Rory, standing with his head dipped downwards and his shoulders slightly hunched, was the same scared looking kid from the night before. He was allowing Rory to pull him along by his wrist, focusing on his shiny black boots, ones that he looked rather unsteady in, like he wasn’t used to tall shoes. His thin, oversized black tee shirt hung off of one boney shoulder, showcasing a few tattoos up on his collar bone and neck. They looked fresh, like they were healing. After Salem scanned the rest of his body (why was he wearing shorts and a tee shirt!? It was snowing outside!), he had healing tattoos all over, scattered every few inches. Were they all new? Salem didn’t know much about tattooing, but he didn’t think that was safe.

Salem didn’t realize he’d been staring at him, silent, until Rory cleared her throat, redirecting his attention to her. “He’s cute, huh?” She smiled, smacking her gum at him. “Nicko picked out a good one.”

“I...What?” Salem muttered.

“Our boxie,” she explained, holding his limp arm up in the air and waving it a little, making the kid flinch hard, “You were looking at him. Isn’t he precious?”

Now, he was shrinking in on himself more, looking rather embarrassed and ashamed, his face hidden mostly by his floppy hair. Salem frowned at him, then at Rory, then at Nicko, who was smiling smugly.

“You didn’t.”

Nicko laughed at him, and thus began the famous “You said it would be cool” argument. Salem was so shocked in the moment he wasn’t able to form a proper argument, so Nicko took both Rory and the boxie out the door and into the snow with him.

So that’s when things got complicated. Well, not necessarily right away, but that was the thing that kickstarted it all. It was a total snowball effect, where one bad thing happens and it just gets worse and collects more velocity and severity the longer it goes on, until it’s huge and it can’t be stopped and it flattens a poor snowboarder or a small city. Salem had to finish school, he had to start living his life and building his career, he didn’t have time to worry about huge snowball problems. That could ruin everything, all of his hard work and pain would have been pointless. All because Nicko decided to get a fucking boxie.

#whump intro #whump character #whump oc #whump writing #whump drabble #whump community #whump blog #whumpblr #whump #captivity whump #whump art #whump ideas #emotional whump #pet whump #whumpee #whump fic #whump scenario #whump prompt #whump tropes #caretaker #lady whump #whump dialogue #whump words #whump story #whump things #whump aftermath #whump comfort #whump concept #box boy whump

[stevesnailbat]

listen before i go, i love you, goodbye. part 2 | steve harrington

warnings: plenty of angst with some fluff, weed smoking, mentions of sex & death. 

summary: Long distance relationships suck, for everyone involved. 

word count: 2.9k 

a/n: I’m very rusty on anything smutty, so I decided not to write the smut part but it’s mentioned. Anyways here’s part 2 :) read part 1 before you read this part!

Steve’s room was quiet, only the sound of Y/N’s soft humming to be heard throughout the room. The silence was too familiar for both of them, but it felt more comfortable now. Their wounds weren’t fresh anymore, so they had become numb to the pain and uncomfortableness. Y/N sat on the corner of Steve’s bed, watching the boy with disheveled hair as he tried his hardest to get the joint rolled. After watching him struggle for a while, she walks over to the desk and leans against it. 

“Need some help?” she says with a small smile as she reaches for the paper, which had slipped from Steve’s fingers when he turned his attention towards her. A few moments later, she finished rolling it and hands it back to him along with her lighter. “You need to learn how to roll, Stevie. I’m not always gonna be there to do it for you.” 

The room goes silent again, a pang of hurt running through Steve’s heart at her words. Her nickname for him always warmed his heart, but the thought of her not being around to call him that anymore pained him. After realizing that he never said anything in return, he snaps himself back to reality. He shoots her a playful glare before walking to the window, the warm summer air flowing in as he opens it. 

“I know how to roll, thank you very much. I was just asleep when you came knocking on my door at midnight, so I was half asleep trying to roll this damn thing.” he says as he holds the joint up to his lips, lighting one end of it as he leans out the window. 

Y/N giggles in return as he passes it to her, locking eyes with him for a moment. For the first time since she came into the house, he realized that her cheeks were still slightly red, eyes puffy around the corners; she had been crying all damn day. Steve watches her closely, her lips as she takes a hit, the smoke that blows from her mouth, her already bloodshot eyes growing even redder. The two of them sit on the floor by the window, passing until the joint is gone. 

“Why New York?” Steve says with a change of tone after a few minutes of the two of them giggling about nothing in particular. 

“I wanted to get away, wanted forget about all of the shitty things that have happened in this shitty no-name town in the middle of nowhere.” Y/N says quietly, pulling herself off of the floor and onto the bed behind her, her body relaxing as she falls into the place she used to consider home. 

“You wanted to?” he questions, feeling like his heart was beating out of his chest as she sprawled out across his bed, nodding in reply. “Do you still want to?” 

“I don’t know anymore. I want to leave this town but I don’t want to leave my family and friends…Growing up sucks, Steve.” Y/N sighs out, rolling her head over to lock eyes with Steve as he leans against the wall beneath the nearby window. 

“Growing up does suck, especially when you don’t know what you’re doing with yourself in the next four years. I’ll be stuck at a minimum wage job forever.” Steve scoffs, shaking his head. 

“You’re not going to be stuck at Scoops forever, Stevie.” She says quietly, reaching out to tangle her fingers through the ends of his hair gently as she stares over at him. “You’ll work for your dad soon enough, he’s just upset right now.” 

The touch of her fingers in his hair sends sparks through both of their bodies, feeling of electricity that neither of them had felt in months hitting them immediately. 

“What if I don’t want to work for him? What if I want to break the mold of what my parents want me to be? I don’t have my life planned out like you do, Y/N.” 

“I had my life planned out. I don’t know what I’m gonna do with myself when I get to New York. I’m trying to stay confident because I can’t just not show up, you know? I have to make the best of a terrifying situation, like we always do.” She says quietly, continuing to stare over at him and play with his hair as he looks at the ground. “I’ve fought demogorgons and survived, I should be able to handle going across the country for college.” 

“What if I told you that I wanted you to stay here?” Steve says, his voice coming across as more timid than usual. 

“Steve, you know I can’t do that-“ 

“But what if you can, Y/N! You can go to school here like you always planned to, I can come visit you all the time and things will go back to the way that they were.” He interjects, moving from the floor up to the edge of the bed next to her. 

“Back to the way things were? Like when you didn’t love me and I gave you all of my heart? When I got nothing in return for pure adoration? No thanks.” Y/N says as she feels her high feeling slowly fading away, a familiar feeling of hurt replacing it. 

“I didn’t ever have the balls to tell you this, but I never stopped loving you, ever. I stopped loving the person I thought you were, and I’m sorry for not realizing that it wasn’t who you really were. It’s my fault that we were so fucked up, I know. It hurt like hell to see you happy without me, but I deserved it for the way that I treated you. But I still love you more than I could ever explain, Y/N.” 

Y/N stares up into Steve’s eyes, realizing that he’s being genuine with his words. The silence in the room was killing him, and she knew it. But she didn’t know what to say to him, how to express her feelings, how to say that she never fully fell out of love with him either. She was afraid that the moment would slip through her fingers if she spoke the way she felt into existence. Without another word, she sits up on the bed next to him, crashing her lips against his with all of the passion that she had pent up inside of her for him. 

The kiss catches Steve off guard and almost causes him to fall over on the bed, but he grips her hip gently to keep his balance. As she feels his hands against her hips, she wraps her arms around his neck to pull him towards the top of the bed. Steve’s body hovers over hers and his hand rests against the nape of her neck gently. She pulls away from the kiss for a moment, staring up at the boy who once broke her heart. Everything seemed fuzzy and confused as she presses her hand against his cheek, vision going blurry from tears that she didn’t even know had formed in her eyes. 

“Why’d you wait all this time to tell me that?” she whispers, leaning her forehead against his as she spoke. 

“I didn’t want to ruin your happiness. You seemed so content and free, I didn’t want to come back into your life and hurt you again.” he says as he brushes a delicate hand against her cheek to wipe her tears. “I saw you struggling today and wanted to be there for you, I wanted so badly to love you again. You coming here...I knew it was my last chance that I would get to tell you.” 

“I love you, Steve. But it’s too late and we both know it.” Y/N says, voice strained from holding back a sob. 

“We can make the distance work, Y/N. I’ll make it work. I’ll call you every day, I’ll even work more hours so I can come out to see you every month! Please, Y/N.” Steve pleads, pulling the crying girl into a hug. “I need you.” 

“How do I know that you aren’t just fucking with me?” She sniffles, tilting her head up with distrust filling her eyes. 

"I’ll show you, if you let me.” he says softly, pressing a kiss against her neck as he waits for a reply. 

They both knew exactly what he meant by that, and both of them knew that it was going to come up while she was there. She thinks for a moment, thinking about what could go wrong. She knows that everything could go wrong, but she had a sliver of hope that everything would go right. Holding onto the sliver of hope that she had, she nodded at Steve and his expression of sadness changed to relief. 

He presses his lips against hers in another passionate kiss, the beginning of a night filled with intensity and affection. Neither of them knew what was to come after this night, she was leaving after all. But thoughts of three days in the future were thrown out the window as they matched each other’s feverish, quick kisses and hot touches. Tears of pain were replaced with tears of pleasure while cries of anger were replaced with cries of satisfaction. Thoughts of fearing their futures were replaced with memories of the good times they had together, heightening their highs when they came to. Neither of them knew what was to come after this night, but neither of them cared. 

Sunlight seemed to stream into the room at an unusually early hour, waking Y/N before she wanted to let go of the first peaceful sleep she had gotten in a while. Although her sleep had been interrupted, Steve was still fast asleep as usual. Not wanting to wake him, she slips out of his tight grip slowly and makes her way to the bathroom. In the five minutes she’s gone, Steve wakes when he absentmindedly realizes the emptiness in his arms. 

The scene seemed too familiar to him; her bag was packed in the corner and she was nowhere to be found. The only thing keeping him from believing it was like the last time was his missing shirt. It scared him, he was already scared enough that he poured his heart out to the girl he hurt so badly, he didn’t want to be broken again. To his surprise, she walks back into the room not even two minutes later, still wearing his shirt and looking as perfect as ever in it. A faint smile forms on Y/N’s lips as she falls back into Steve’s arms, warms surrounding her as she does. 

The next three days consisted of doing anything they could do together; they made up for any time they had lost. Memories were made, walls were broken once more. It felt like nothing had changed, but the only thing holding them back was the fact that it was all going to be over soon. The goodbye was a thousand times harder now, she didn’t want to leave Hawkins and he didn’t want her to leave either. 

“Promise me you’ll call me all the time, Stevie.” Y/N pleaded as she clung onto Steve’s shirt, clinging onto the love between them while she still could. 

“Every day, baby. I promise.” he whispered back as he leaned against her car, kissing her head while he watches her parents finish packing up the car for the airport. 

Little did he know, he wouldn’t be able to keep his end of the promise up for even two weeks. Y/N waited every day for a call around 5 p.m., picking up immediately when she would get one. When it wasn’t Steve, her heart would drop as every possibility of what could have happened ran through her mind. The last call Y/N got from Steve was short, he talked about some secret code thing that he was working on with Robin from work and Dustin; she was confused, but listened intently as he rambled on about it. The first week of July was when she was struggling the most, when she needed to hear his voice more than anything. The first week of July was when he wasn’t there for her, when he couldn’t stop thinking about her while he was stuck in a Russian base underground. His heart ached as he begged for mercy from the Russians, trying his hardest to protect Robin, Dustin and Erica before himself. 

Beaten and bruised, the first thing Steve did when he got out of the destroyed Starcourt was run to a pay phone. After fumbling with the numbers for a while, he finally pushes the right buttons and dials the New York phone number that he knew like the back of his hand. One ring, two rings, three rings, nothing. Steve tried again and again, mumbling a string of curse words under his breath until he heard a groggy voice come from the phone. 

“Hello?” Y/N’s voice travels through the phone, giving Steve a feeling of relief to hear her speak again. 

“Y/N I’m so sorry, I promise I didn’t mean to not call you. You won’t believe what happened — well you probably will believe it — but I just want to let you know that I love you and I’m..I’m sorry.” Steve rambles, his voice shaky as he speaks into the phone and holds himself up on the wall next to him. 

“Stevie, I’m just glad to hear your voice right now. I thought you just lost interest again.” she says tiredly, a crack of hurt in her voice present when she says the last part. 

“Never, baby.” he says with a small laugh, checking the watch on his wrist to see that it was almost midnight. “If I know you at all, I would say that you’ve been worried sick about me and I don’t want you to do that anymore, okay?” 

“Stevie-“ 

“No, baby. I want you to stop worrying about me, no more crying or staying up all night next to the phone waiting for a call. I know you’ve been doing both of those things and it’s not good for you. I love you and I’m not going anywhere unless it’s to see you, so please for your sake just get some rest and I’ll tell you everything you need to know in the morning.” Steve says, trying to keep his voice strong even though he just watched so many people lose everything.

Steve knew the right words to say that would put Y/N at ease. She agreed to go to sleep and stop worrying, but she would be lying if she said she wasn’t worried still. When he explained everything the next day, they cried together quietly on the phone. Emptiness filled Y/N’s heart as she listened to Steve’s pained voice speaking of Hopper being gone and watching Billy sacrifice himself for everyone who wasn’t there to help him. All they wanted was to hold each other again, but they knew it couldn’t happen for so long. 

Days seemed like weeks and months seemed like years as Steve counted down the time until Y/N’s Christmas break. His plans of visiting her monthly were sidetracked by the Scoops Ahoy going down with the battle of Starcourt, leaving him without a job to earn plane ticket money. What Steve didn’t know was that Y/N had been working hard all semester to keep her grades good enough to transfer to Purdue. She only told him she was coming home for break, not staying there after. 

Snowstorms pushed back Y/N’s arrival in Hawkins by three days, flights delayed for all planes in New York. It was cutting close to Christmas, she was worried she wouldn’t get to spend the holidays with family and her boyfriend. Luckily, she made it on a 10 p.m. flight on the 23rd of December, eagerly taking the ticket when offered. Her mother picked her up from the airport early on Christmas Eve with tears of joy in her eyes, telling her she was so glad she was going to be home, in Indiana, again. She didn’t see Steve until Christmas day, and she was a wreck when she was met with his tight embrace at the Harrington Christmas party. The present she had bought him in New York was nowhere to be found, most likely somewhere in the airport still. But neither of them cared, the only thing on their minds was each other and being close again. 

“How long do I have with you before you go back?” Steve asked as the two of them sat on his couch and admired the Christmas tree, the party dying down in the next room over.

“Well, I don’t have to go back to Purdue until the 5th of January. So we’ve got plenty of time, Stevie.” Y/N said sweetly, a knowing grin spreading across her face when she sees his eyes widen in shock. 

“Purdue? As in the one in Indiana?” he questioned, heart racing quickly as he does. 

She only nods in response, happy tears brimming her eyes. Steve pulls her into a hug and sighs in relief, as though a weight had been lifted off his chest. He presses a kiss against her forehead as he laughs happily and shakes his head. They were happy and together, once again. Sure, things weren’t exactly how they should be, but they were as good as they were going to get. 

“Forget the Christmas present you forgot. You moving back is the only thing I really wanted.” Steve says, pressing his lips against hers in a satisfied kiss.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington angst #steve harrington one shot #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things one shot #stranger things 1 #stranger things 2 #stranger things 3 #stranger things fandom #stranger things #steve harrington imagine #joe keery x reader #joe keery imagine #joe keery fanfiction #joe keery fanfic #joe keery oneshot #joe keery angst #joe keery smut #joe keery fluff #imagine stranger things #stranger things angst #imagine steve harrington #stranger things fluff

[malachi-walker]

Some Really Heavy Thoughts on the Relationship Between Scorpia and Catra

Fair warning, guys: I'm gonna get into some deeply personal stuff involving abuse recovery and past mistakes here. I will not be making excuses for Catra or her treatment of Scorpia, but well... Let's just say there's a reason why their relationship has always me wince. Because it touches on some stuff that is likely relevant to a lot of ex-abuse victims.

This entire meta stems from an epiphany I had while discussing with @johannas-motivational-insults how I have a really hard time writing Scorpia, and me trying to pinpoint what exactly makes me so uncomfortable working with her or looking at her relationship with Catra in detail.

Let me back up a bit. We all love Scorpia. She's a big cuddly sweetheart without a mean bone in her body. She's fantastic, a bright point in the overall suckage that is the Horde, and she gives GREAT hugs. So why does their relationship bother me so much?

Well... It's because I've been there once before in my own life. And it's one of my deepest regrets, so seeing that play out on screen and instinctively knowing where this is going fucking sucks.

Personal stuff under the cut.

We've already covered Scorpia being a good kid. That said, I feel like a lot of people just flanderize her into being this perfect wonderful friend who wholly accepts Catra (and conversely either woobify Catra or make her a horrible monster who doesn't appreciate a good thing) but... the truth is a lot more nuanced than that.

Scorpia doesn't wholly accept Catra because in order to truly accept someone you have to see them for who they really are, warts and all, and Scorpia doesn't. She idealizes Catra and either ignores or downplays her very real flaws and problems, and tries to excuse any actions she commits that don't live up to that constructed image, which is of course what she confronts in s4 (and I’m proud of her for that.) It's not done with any ill intent, but it's still not a good thing in any relationship; romantic, platonic, familial, any kind.

Here's where things get real personal. Also, I wanna specify that I am not forcing myself to talk about this, even though it still hurts in a lot of ways. Though I am probably gonna bring this up with my therapist when I next see her.

I've mentioned before in previous meta that I am an ex-child abuse victim who followed a very similar trajectory to Catra once I got out of that situation. I was angry, I was hurt, and I was ADAMANT that nobody get close to me again and fully prepared to lash out as much as I needed in order to make that happen. Occasionally people would slip through my guard anyway, but on the whole I was very successful at that goal and torpedoed a lot of bridges back in those days.

And as much as it kills me to admit it... I had my own Scorpia too.

Her name was Amy, and I met her in my freshman year of high school after I ended up in a private school for the “gifted and talented” (which ended up being its own mistake, but that's a story for another day.)

To put this entire situation into perspective: at the time I was struggling to process and cope with my abuse, I had just been misdiagnosed with major depression after an entire year of contemplating suicide, and I had been put on a ridiculously high dosage of the antidepressant Wellbutrin--literally the highest dosage they could legally give an adolescent without the risk of seizures--which cranked my rage up to a constant underlying simmer and also gave me horrific fucking nightmares, to the point that for about a year and a half I was consistently only getting two hours of sleep because I was waking up screaming nearly every night. This is not me making excuses for being such a dick, but I do try to keep in mind that younger me was dealing with an absolute shitshow when passing judgment on myself. I was trying to survive a situation that absolutely no one was equipped to handle at all of 14 years old.

And then here comes Amy.

Amy was one of those people who was relentlessly optimistic to an almost suspicious degree (more on that later.) The kind of person who will reply to any statement of "I'm having a bad [x]" with generic look-on-the-bright-side platitudes and a big smile without actually addressing anything you said. She was also one of those people who was aggressively Christian, not in a mean way, but in an "it was her answer for literally everything" way, which given that I was struggling with my own faith at the time was practically a recipe for disaster.

But for whatever reason, this girl latched onto me, no matter how much I tried to get her to do otherwise.

I wanna note that I wasn't wholly devoid of friends at the time; my best friend, Michael (who is still my best friend/bro to this day) had also gotten into the school along with me, but the rest of our friend group hadn't and those relationships drifted apart in the ensuing years, which only served to compound the underlying issues. And I will always be thankful that the guy was able to roll with the punches and stick by me even through my absolute worst, but it was also pretty irritating having to switch between my bro who understands me even if he didn’t always agree to my much tenser interactions with Amy. So back to her.

Basically, this girl just kinda inserts herself into my life, refuses to take a hint or back off, and any time I try to talk about my issues or get her to understand a little and make an actual connection, I'm met with the overwhelming feeling of "You're not really seeing me. You're not listening." So I responded by being a fucking bitch. I would ignore her, make fun of her, treat her like a third wheel, etc. In hindsight, it was a dick move, but at the time it made sense to me. I genuinely felt like it was her fault for never listening to me in the first place, so I justified it by telling myself I was just paying her back in kind.

I lost touch with Amy after I was kicked out of school at the tail end of freshman year due to a Wellbutrin-induced rage episode (nobody got hurt, but my attitude at the time was so consistently extreme that the school administration literally had an inch thick dossier on my behavior and what the other kids thought of me, so that incident was just what they needed to justify kicking me out.) Afterwards, my parents made the decision to relocate to another town since my expulsion meant I would be banned from going back into school for a full year unless we changed systems--and even then I was required to go into a continuation school to prove I had been rehabilitated, but I digress. Point is that I was uprooted from that environment and I didn't bother keeping in touch.

I actually found out years later from a friend who went to that same high school--though we didn't actually become friends until after my expulsion--that the reason why Amy was the way she was is that in the year prior to meeting me, her mother had committed suicide and she had been the one to discover her body. So in hindsight, her entire deal made sense: she was trying to survive in the only way she knew how and cope with a situation no one should ever have to, same as me.

But that didn't mean we were able to connect. The great tragedy of that situation, and the thing I regret the most about it, is that we were just two horribly damaged kids that were utterly incapable of actually seeing each other as we were at the time. And it ultimately wasn't anybody's fault, which ironically makes it even harder to accept.

I regret the way I treated her. I wish I could have made her life a little better, and I still hope and pray she got the help she needed elsewhere.

That's what makes Scorptra so incredibly tragic to me as well. Scorpia is a good-hearted person who does genuinely care for Catra, but she also willfully blinds herself to the things Catra is dealing with and her relentless optimism often just ends up rubbing salt in the wounds. Catra is wrong to treat Scorpia so badly, but I also fully understand those feelings of resentment and anger you develop towards someone when they consistently refuse to see you as you are, because I've been there. And that's also why I've always had a hard time with Scorptra romantically (though if you ship it, good for you! I honestly wish I could), because those issues have always been present in their relationship and made it unsustainable from the very beginning.

Something was always destined to break between them. And that's what makes it so damn hard for me to write Scorpia as a character, because in many ways she reminds me of one of the things I regret the most in my life: how I treated someone else who had the best intentions horribly when I was at my absolute worst. These days I try to be kind to my past self as part of the healing process, but when I think of my actions in that year it is really fucking hard. I don't like to think about it, even though I know I feel like I need to (which is also why this meta exists.)

Neither Scorpia or Catra were at fault for the fact that they couldn't see each other properly: it was just a really bad case of wrong place, wrong time. And that's what makes it hurt.

Also, if you made it this far, I'm sorry this was so depressing. Please have a happy cat and scorpion to hopefully feel a little better. Also huge shoutout to @yesbpdcatra for encouraging me to get this out there. You're the best, fam.

#hoo boy #tw: child abuse #mention of suicide #the sometimes ugly messiness of the recovery process #hard personal truths #scorptra #spop meta #my meta

[artificialqueens]

i'll die happy tonight (sashea + others) — lily2

[ prompt ] : ❛ halloween parties are only good for two things: dressing in lingerie and getting really, really drunk. ❜

[ author’s note ] : let it be known this is truly the greatest top 4 of the century, this prompt seemed really fun and open and I don’t like halloween so I thought it be really interesting, everyone knows I’m a hoe for sashea, peppermint and trinity so this made sense with my fantasy.

— *.✧

“Uno, pay up bitch!” Peppermint screamed in excitement once she slammed her last card on Sasha’s wooden table, toying with the end strands of her hair as a grin was captured at the corner of her lips, looking to Trinity who could only sit in defeat, arms crossed with a roll her eyes handing her a crisp twenty right from her wallet as Sasha and Shea snickered, watching the Uno showdown happen.

“Dammit, I should’ve gone to Alaska and Sharon’s Halloween party instead of fooling around on a perfectly good friday night with y'all.” The Orlando native spoke up as Sasha poured more vodka and soda in her glass, her acrylics tapping the cup frustrated, Trinity knew she was going to lose yet still decided to pick a battle with self-proclaimed uno master: Peppermint.

It was unknown to all their co-workers and friends since highschool, since college how the four had managed to stay so intact without murdering one another though everyone was secretly convinced Trinity was on the verge of it secretly since they begun all working together at the same label, they were closer than ever and though they had some questionable moments and distinctly aggressive arguments now and then, they knew they were all just eachother’s best judy’s and that’s how it would be until the grave.

“Speaking of party, why didn’t we go again?” Sasha spoke up, curiously tilting her head towards Peppermint as the Russian bit her tongue, not wanting to exactly question the reasoning behind it but Sharon and Alaska were quite nice co-workers when they weren’t screwing eachother off next to Sasha’s office. “I quite like halloween since I’ve moved to America!” The blonde added innocently, smiling at Trinity who wanted to throw up at the idea of a party though parties meant free alcohol and that was a plus.

“I honestly wanted to, I was gonna be Naomi Campbell, had a whole gold and black outfit planned!” Shea’s genuine disappointment showing in her voice and facial expression which read as: bitter.

“Sash, halloween parties are only good for two things: dressing in lingerie and getting really, really drunk!” Peppermint spoke up before Shea could even let another word leave her lips.

“And I know Shea would do both of those for you for free, no charge.” Trinity finally added, Sasha choking on her vodka and putting her glass down as Shea patted her back, telling her to sit up though Trinity and Peppermint sat giggling like absolute fools, grabbing eachother’s arm and then staring intently at Shea to actually make a move and not reply with a blantant attempt to keep their friendship at just that— a friendship.

“Maybe not for free.” Shea corrected, brushing her long and black curled hair out of her face, letting it fall as she put it behind her ear, the blonde beside her shaken up just a bit, just now hearing the music that had been playing from Sasha’s speaker that they placed on her kitchen countertop.

“That’s disappointing.”

As unexpected of a reply that was from Sasha Velour, seeing the the absolutely priceless faces of disbelief on Trinity and Peppermint’s face was reward enough, Shea leaned towards Sasha, her face gently dropped in her hand and she happily felt a smirk present as she spoke, “For you? Free if you beg for it.”

“Okay this went from amazing to filthy in about two seconds!” Trinity blurted to the table aloud, her words just the tiniest bit slurred as she took another long sip of her alcoholic beverage. Shea gestured her best friend towards the door with a small hand gesture, the european piecing it together and nodding as the two stood up, eye to eye simply staring at eachother as they pushed their chairs in and grabbed hands a bit needy.

“We need like five minutes.” Shea announced before they closed the door and all that was left was the Queen which Sasha had put on purely for white noise and Trinity as well as Peppermint who could simply blink before turning to eachother as the southerner coughed, getting her friend’s attention.

She waved a ten in her fingertips, “Bet you a ten that they’re going to finally confess.” The black girl beside her could almost collapse in her seat from the pure laugher in the moment, “You wish, with how dense Shea is and how unbearably unaware Sasha is, I bet you they’re gonna come back in and just brush it off as some kind of personal talk, my girl will back out and I know it.”

“You might be good with cards but I, am the number one matchmaker of the Orlando area and have been since highschool!” She pointed it out as if she was full of pride and confidence from that tidbit of hers. “I honestly hope I’m wrong but then I have to give you ten dollars so we’ll see about that.”

They shook hands and exchanged a cheers with their half empty glasses, waiting for any possible outcome, “Lost twenty dollars and a party on Halloween already, I ain’t losing another ten bitch!”

*.✧

Shea held onto Sasha’s hand firmly as they exited, pressing their sides against the door firmly and staring at eachother once more, unable to really focus on whatever was to come next, though the rampant music outside and children on the other side of the block all screaming and running around wasn’t exactly the greatest way to set a mood either.

“So is now a right time to talk or should we wait till tomorrow when there aren’t annoying fucking kids running around?” The whisper just loud enough for the Russian girl to hear, she shook her head, absolutely wanting to hear whatever Shea had to say that was so personal or so important they had to leave Peppermint and Trinity stranded like castaways at her dining table.

She definitely wasn’t offended— quite the opposite, she hoped this is what she had been waiting to hear and not just another matter about work or planning a surprise party or another holiday, she was hoping for none of that. Her blonde hair fell right on her shoulders, her curls bouncing as she sniffled and looked back up again, it was definitely cold for October in California though Sasha should definitely be much more resilient to the cold weather considering her background and motherland.

“Sasha…” She laughed a bit, feeling her cheeks turn a soft pink as she continued on strong, trying to fight all her willpower to just bow out, “I really, really have been keeping this in and know that I just have to be honest with you after years of being your best friend.” Sasha smiled gently, tightening their hand’s grip as Shea sucked in a sharp breath.

“Shit…” She breathed out, feeling her hands shaking.

It was so ironic that Shea Couleé, the girl who seemed to have her entire life together, was confident, oozed nothing but absolute charisma and charm and had great public speaking skills consistently, an extrovert who wanted one thing in her life: Sasha Velour was choking up while trying to talk, not from tears or any sappy lines like that— pure anxiety.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Her friend cooed as she rubbed Shea’s shoulder, the girl biting the inside of her cheek with regret and rolling her eyes at how damn flimsy she looked right now in front of Sasha who had completely idolized and loved her from the beginning.

“Sasha, I’m in love with you, so badly.”

That’s when the silence seemed deafening and every other sound noted of before seemed to suddenly disappear expect Shea’s own annoyingly pounding heartbeat, feeling Sasha gaze into her eyes and take in every word.

“God damn, I mean really, shit.” She laughed at her own misery of a confession, “Ever since I met you in high school and you came all beautifully dressed in that embroidery dress I kept my eye on you and your quirks and habits and then when we started becoming best friends I realized, I’m not in love with the idea of being close to you and your antics, I’m in love with you and everything you do, it’s kind of embarrassing how often I think about you.”

Every weight of baggage seemed to collapse off her shoulders after that, straightening her posture as Sasha stood still not saying a word.

“If you don’t feel the same, I understand.”

That was when the Russian snapped almost immediately back, “What? No!” She yelled before taking her volume down a few knotches though over the blood piercing music who would actually care about their conversation.

“Shea, I’ve been waiting for you to say that for years…” The words leaving her lips in a clustered whisper, a gentle stroke of her hand as they still had their fingers interlocked lightly. “I always thought you were just joking around and this is what best friends did but when you looked at me like a person when I first came from Russia, I knew almost instantly.” Her turn to laugh and be stunned at her own realizations.

“I want to kiss you so bad.”

Sasha chuckled though she nodded instantaneously, “Please.” Shea felt nothing but a sigh of relief before pressing their lips together, this was truly going to be the greatest halloween of her life despite wanting to go to that damn party earlier.

Euphoria was a good way to describe it, Shea had experienced a lot in her life this far but kissing Sasha Velour had to definitely top the list for now, her hands gently brushing her cheeks, her fingertips gently toying with the smallest strands of her blonde and thick hair, her lips were soft and had a definite mint aftertaste, it had to be whatever lipgloss she had put on but Shea was definitely not complaining especially knowing her lipstick was going to brush off on the Russian’s lips.

They seperated but not without Shea stealing one more kiss, wrapping her arms around her waist and laughing, “Sorry.” She flushed though she was definitely not sorry about it in the slightest. “Don’t be.”

*.✧

Trinity heard the door open and tapped Peppermint on her shoulder, gasping immediately once she saw Shea and Sasha holding hands and whisper something to eachother with wide smiles across their faces.

The other girl raising a finger, not convinced Shea had said a damn thing until they kissed, which they did almost two second later which was met with Peppermint’s turn at an aggravated slam to Sasha’s table, “Dammit, just had to be today and on Halloween!” She handed Trinity her ten dollars aggresively so as Shea scoffed, hands on her hips as Sasha sat down, Trinity brightly stuffing the money before whispering a, “So it happened?”

“I didn’t think you had enough courage and nerve is all I’m saying.” Her brow cocked as Shea shrugged, smiling knowing she was truly the winner of tonight: she lost a few card game’s but gained everything she had ever wanted right next to her.

“So about getting drunk and dressing in lingerie…” Shea winked, flirting with her girlfriend who could only lick her lips and laugh, Trinity yelling and standing up, pouring herself more alcohol though her knees were beginning to wobble, “They’re starting already, cheers to the happy couple!” She said as they all quickly stood and bent over to touch glasses with eachother.

“Happy Halloween, no one I’d rather spend it with than my best friends and my girlfriend.” The word still completely new and unfamiliar on Sasha’s tongue though exploiting it felt incredible.

“I think you’d definitely prefer to spend it alone with Shea right about now.”

Shea couldn’t argue with that as Trinity drunkly giggled into her jacket, head burried in her neck, “And that’s love!” Peppermint and Sasha high fiving over something she had replied that Shea couldn’t make out over Trinity breathing on her leather emsmeble.

She couldn’t possibly be any bit mad because once their eyes met, the world melted away and all she saw was that gorgeous face and pure smile, both of them sharing the same thought as the rest of the room seemed to black out.

She is everything and more.

#rpdr fanfiction #halloween challenge #sasha velour #shea coulee #trinity the tuck #peppermint #sashea #lesbian au #I'll die happy tonight #concrit welcome #submission #roza

[marshmallowmalfoy]

Tag // Draco Malfoy // Pt. 1

Type: Lowkey smut. REAAALLY lowkey. Will get fluffier if you guys want more.

A/N: I’m so incredibly sorry for not writing for so long, I’ve had some pretty serious family issues going on that are starting to resolve so I should be able to start writing more regularly again. Sorry its so long

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT A PART TWO!!

Summary: Stoner y/n collides with Draco like two stars slamming into each other. It’s extremely rare to witness, but they create the brightest, most beautiful light, but they disappear once its over. Draco fights it.

Female Reader

Warnings: WEEED! Lots of weed. Drugs. Much drugs.- ment. of alcohol - Swearing. Much swearing. - Anorexia/Bulimia. - Sexual references/activities and such (slight) and shit moves fast.

I AM IN NO WAY PROMOTING EATING DISORDERS

Herbology. How boring. Herbs this, herbs that, herbs that heal, herbs that kill. The only herbs that Y/N was really interested in we’re the kind that help you escape your trouble. The ones that you take into you, and with every breath out you become more one with the world. Most pure bloods had no idea what it was, but the muggle-born that she was, born to two parents who grew up in the grunge scene, she knew everything there was to know about the drug. Weed, pot, marijuana, call it what you will, say what you want about it, but it quelled her anxiety, and it helped her see light in the world. This sick, fucked up world. At night she would sneak out of the dorms, down to the black lake where she would sit against the trunk of an old willow tree and breathe in the earth. No one knows that the smell really is, majority of them have never heard of it. It wasn’t a big deal, but she hears the whispers that she’s the girl that “smells of the earth” simply because they don’t know how else to describe it.

She sat and listen to the professor, not giving a rats ass about the words coming out of her mouth. The little Weasley girl sat beside her, though the Y/H wanted nothing to do with the red haired girl. The professor left them to their work, and Y/N got right to it, dipping her quill in the ink and bringing it’s tip to the parchment before her. A list of deadly herbs and poisons.

”Mudblood!” A familiar voice hissed from behind her. She ignored him, and kept at her work. “Dirty mudblood you better not be ignoring me.” He hissed again. She kept to her work.

Lunch time. She wasn’t hungry. Her body told her that food was the enemy. At least when she was sober. It was either not eating for days, or shoving her fingers half way down her throat to get it out again. Eating made her feel heavy. It made her feel dirty. She just didn’t need it. Her legs were thin. She had a thigh gap for days that could only be explained by her disorders. Her hips protruded. Her breasts were nearly gone. Her body was eating itself because her brain told her no. Too many people didn’t understand that. She couldn’t tell anybody. They simply would think she wishes to be skinnier. She hated the way she looked. She wanted the curvy body she once had. The little bit of jiggle on her belly, the strength she had in her butt. She’s sticks now. Sticks.

She sat and watched others eat. She just watched. She gazed into nothingness. Without realizing it her gaze found its way to the impish boy named Malfoy.

He noticed. A shiver ran through him. You were ghostly. A force to be reckoned with. He prodded at you anyway. He was curious as to what you were capable of. There was power swirling inside you. You didn’t see it. But he did. He had tired everything.

“Draco darling!” Pansy slid onto his lap. “You’re spacing out again love.” She slid her hand down his cheek, shimmying her hips against his subtly.

Then it hit him.

He hadn’t tried everything.

It was nearly 3 in the morning. She had yet to sleep. She now sat on the edge of the black lake with her knees to her chest. Her bare toes set lightly in the cold, October-bitten water. The moon was orange tonight. Blood moon. Her eye fluttered closed, but she was restless. She laid back, she let her legs straighten. the back of her lower thighs felt the water. The top of her shins were submerged. The silence was nice. The howling wolves. The Creeping spiders. The hoots of the owls and scurrying of mice. She felt as though she could hear it all. She pulled her joint out of her messenger bag. She flicked the lighter and inhaled. Her first hit of the night.

Its not like they make it out in T.V. shows and art. Getting high isn’t seeing rainbows. It’s not things being distorted.You almost always remember what happened. You are in control the whole time.

The real danger is bad dealers. People who lace it. People who are fuckers.

She looked up at the stars and a small smile cracked her dried lower lip.

She was just laying there as he watched her bring something to her lips continuously. Her breath came out white. Sometimes in circles. Sometimes in big clouds. Sometimes you would blow it out and suck it back in. It wasn’t cold enough for her breath to be that white in the air. He watched his own breath to confirm that. She twirled it between her middle and pointer finger.

He slowly approached careful not to make any sounds. She only saw him when he was feet away from him, because she was looking at the stars. She sighed and smiled. Her eyes were ever-so-slightly red. If the moon hadn’t been so big and bright he wouldn’t have noticed.

“What do you want Malfoy?” The words spilled out of her mouth so beautifully. She wasn’t annoyed. She wasn’t sad or mad or frustrated. She was happy. She seemed to be displaying genuine curiosity. In fact, he couldn’t recall a time that she had said that many words to him at a time.

“What are you doing Y/N? Were you crying?” He pointed directly to her eye, referring to the slight pink irritation they held. She chuckled and patted the ground next to her, inviting him to sit down. He did. He couldn’t help it. He was intrigued. She lifted the joint and motioned it in his direction. “What is that?” He asked, taking it between the tips of his thumb and finger.

“Weed.” She pulled her legs out of the water and sat cross legged facing him. He gave her a confused look. “Its like...” She giggled, “...A muggle delicacy.” She chuckled again, her tiny frame shaking as she did so. The jewelry hanging from her neck jingling as she did so.

Draco took a hit.

Fuck. She’s so pretty. Why haven’t I noticed she’s this pretty before? Look at those lips. Those eyes. Just look at her. What had he been doing all this time.

They were walking down to the quittich pitch. She had begged him to see the inside of the boys locker room. She’d only even seen the inside of the girls room, back when she was the best beater of her house. He just chuckled. She was such a curious person.

For some reason, the fuzz in her head let her see how much tension was between them. She wanted it. She wanted it so bad.

They arrived in the locker room, he held the door for her as they slithered in like snakes hunting prey.

In both their heads, they were wondering why they never saw this in each other. It was as though this drug wasn’t making them high, but the time with each other. They’d never had a solid conversation before that night. But once the ball started rolling, it built up so much inertia that even a cosmic explosion could stop it.

“Is this your locker?” She asked him, as she pointed to the locker with the Slytherin symbol on it, and just above that, in green letters Captain. He chuckled, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. She pulled a bobby pin out of her hair. With surprising ease she had the lock picked and locker open in seconds. It made him wonder. Who was she actually?

Wordlessly, she peeled her shirt off. Skin and bones. It disappeared when she pulled his jersey over her head. He watched her. He held it together. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. It was just supposed to be flirting. It was supposed to be teasing and glances. He held it together as best he could.

And then he didn’t

It was skin.

Mouths.

Hands on throat.

Two bodies.

One.

A few weeks went by after that night. Draco hadn’t had as good of a night sleep than that night since. Draco remembered everything. And apparently so did Y/N. She’d been avoiding him. Usually she just ignored him, but now she would go out of her way to not have to walk past him in the hall. She would do her best to slide discretely in and out of the classes they had together, sure to keep her back to him.

Did she regret what happened between them?

Did he?

He couldn’t tell anymore.

He didn’t at first. He wanted to talk to her in the halls. Work with her in class. The things she told him that night. It was the first time he saw her with her guard down, and she didn’t hold back.

She told him about her flaky, alcoholic parents who think she’s at boarding school. She told him about when she stopped eating. She told him about her older sister, the perfect university grad engaged-to-be-married sister. The light of her parents life. Her little brother and sister. She was terrified to leave them with her parents every year. Her fear of heights. Her hatred for Seamus Finnigan because of that one time in third year that he lifted up her skirt on a dare. The places she goes to get high when she needs to.

As every day passed that she was consistently avoiding him made him doubt himself.

He couldn’t let it get to him today. He had the biggest quidditch match of the year today. He couldn’t let it get to him.

The Slytherin locker room was bustling, the members of the team getting increasingly excited and nervous as they geared up. They’d had a good run this year. But some questioned if it was good enough. Including Draco. He arrived late. His lock was still undone. He smiled sadly at the sight.

What had gone wrong after that? Or during that?

He shook the thoughts out of his head and opened his locker, sliding his jersey on. It smelled like her perfume. It sounded like her moans as it crinkled. A locker slamming sounded like their bodies together. The tap on his shoulder felt like her hands scratching his back.

He turned around.

“Dude what the fuck I’ve said your name like twelve times.” Blaise said as they came face to face.

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” Draco muttered, pulling the rest of his gear on.

“We need you focused today. What the hell is going on? You’ve been out of it for-.” Blaise’s voice faded as he looked beyond Malfoy. “What... is that?” Blaise chuckled and pointed into the pale boys locker. Draco’s face burned red as he turned and saw Y/N’s lacy panties dangling from a hook in the locker. He slammed his locker shut and shook his head.

“Nothing.” He choked out. “It’s nothing.”

“Oh hell no.” Zabini chuckled, “Everybody!” He shouted, getting everyone’s attention as vice-captain of the team, “I am proud to announce, that after years of no action. Our beloved captain, Draco Malfoy, has GOTTEN LAID!” The locker room erupted in cheers and pats on the back and millions of questions. He dismissed it all. It was game time.

He seemed dazed. He wasn’t paying attention. The snitch would dash in a different direction and he would stop, having a hard time finding it again. She was in the front row, but she didn’t jump to her feet when a goal was scored. She didn’t cheer names or chant house names. She sat. She sat and watched him. She never came to these games. Too much energy. Too much “pep” and “spirit”. Too much bullshit. She crossed her arms and sat back.

She was there. She was there and she was watching him. She watched him as his hand closed around that snitch and win the game. She watched him as his team praised him. But when the official announcement was made, she was gone. Like smoke in the wind.

This weird back-and-forth game was killing him. She was illusive. But he had an idea.

He wasn’t being creepy, he reminded himself over and over again as he carefully tailed her that day. She hadn’t smoked in a week. If you asked him how he knew that, he wouldn’t tell you. But in reality, he’d followed her for 6 days before this. He would go to class late, and leave every class early to make sure she was just around the corner from her classes. It wasn’t creepy. He was sure of it.

It was today though, that she didn’t stay in her dorms long. He waited out until 10 to see if she would come out. She didn’t. At least thats what he thought when he turned to leave. But then the door opened. She stepped out. This time she wasn’t in her uniform. No. She wore her pajamas, and little slippers made to look like bears. Her hair was braided half-up-half-down and her face seemed more blemished than usual. Her eyelashes weren’t as long, her lips weren’t as ruby red. But her messenger bag was still by her side.

He followed her, this time to the potions room. She told him no on would doubt her if she was caught in there it large glass objects with herbs jammed into them. She sat right down at Snape’s desk and pulled a long, hallow glass object out of her bag, filling it partially with water.

He took his change before she took a hit.

He threw the door open and she jumped in the chair she was sat in. Her face went pale and her eyes opened wide. She stood once she processed what was happening and grabbed her stuff hurriedly.

“Y/N” He said firmly. Not moving from his spot in the threshold. She froze and looked up at him. He closed the door behind him, locking it. “We need to talk.” 

#Draco #Draco malfoy #Draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy fluff #drugs #weed #hogwarts #Harry #Harry potter #Malfoy #Potter #Marshmallow Malfohy #Imagine #Smut #Fluff

[violetsystems]

#personal

I promised I would keep things less heady this morning which is always a challenge.  I still wake up every morning at around four or five out of routine.  Most of what I’ve been doing since August has been reorganizing money and untangling things from my previous life.  I had both a severance and a payout on a pension from my previous job.  It was a hard cutoff and probably the most diplomatic time to get rid of me.  I spent a lot of time feeling like a failure.  Then I spent a lot of time trying to figure out what I was going to do.  When Monday rolls around the city fully expects us all to do nothing for another thirty days.  I’m not really one to complain although you hear me grumble every Saturday morning like clockwork.  I save most of my emotional output for this blog.  I can say with good faith nobody talks to me this deeply at all.  I’m not on Facebook or Instagram anymore.  I am on LinkedIn more than I’d care to be but nobody ever reaches out other than Bitcoin scammers trying to get me to divest from Nio.  The last one being Andre Bobby.  They introduced themselves as Bobby Andre.  I greeted Andre and subsequently blocked them.  I’m often invited to the same discussions from the news team.  Always about the future of Higher Education and online learning.  Sometimes to the same thread.  I’ve long since ignored everything except jobs posted I’d be interested in over there in China.  From everything I have had to read into, I’ve learned that March is probably the soonest anyone of worth would be hiring.  This is reinforced by conversations with my dad who is admittedly just as much as a workaholic as myself.  I spent twenty years working for something I thought I was part of.  And it just seems like my work was never valued at all.  And the less depressed I got about it, the more I started to explore the reasons why.  I had a thick ass book delivered to me annotating the various financial holdings of what consisted of my share of a pension.  A pension these days is like an ancient relic.  One that many companies find too heavy on their books along with other benefits like health insurance or other basic needs for human survival.  When I started at an art school, the benefits were what were lauded the most.  I had over thirty days of paid vacation.  I spent a period of seven years from 2011 travelling by myself to Korea.  Towards the end of my travel, I had been itching to network for something else.  I felt stagnant in my job.  I spent over twelve years in the same job title drowning in the responsibilities of middle management.  My boss often never showed up to work.  Towards the end, they’d never show up to meetings.  They’d be offsite with an employee of mine making music in a garage.  When the news hit me the Thursday before the fourth of July holiday, it felt targeted and mean.  There was a great alibi, a piece of paper to sign absolving all wrongdoing in exchange for a severance and a health insurance extension and a lot of hurt.  A recruiter reached out the day before my health insurance responsibilities switched over.  My payments per month are about as much as my rent.  I had accepted the highest level insurance through open enrollment about a month before I was let go.  It’s all been pretty heady ever since.  Mostly because somehow I still managed to act like it didn’t even affect me.  Although nobody ever reached out an acknowledged how bad it looks in retrospect.  Nobody reaches out at all other than to punk me into selling stocks while I walk to the grocery store.  I did own a car once.  Now I’m just a target by activist investors and their Qanon buddies.  A step up from the Proud Boys I guess.  But who am I really after all of this?  

Nobody can tell for sure.  I’ve shared everything I could ever possibly feel in my writing week after week.  I’ve had bits and pieces of it lifted and used as actionable intelligence to bully me in public.  Everybody seems to know my business and sometimes I wonder if it really fucking matters.  You can bare your soul to people and they’ll stare right through the gaping hole and laugh.  Mostly because they see how empty they are themselves.  It’s an uncanny valley effect to look in my eyes these days.  People can talk all the shit they want about what theories they have but they’re afraid to face the truth.  That I’ve never really been anything other than genuine.  And America is so desperate to prove you wrong.  To prove how much better it is at everything.  I noticed this a lot with gaming particularly when I would play magic in public with people.  I always build decks at my kitchen table alone for fun.  I love the logic.  I will try unorthodox strategies just to learn through failure.  And I would fail year after year playing against people who literally would define their decks by a monetary value other than a strategic one.  I used to read the Tarot.  I love the idea of randomness.  You buy a pack and you have to work with what you have.  If you’ve ever gone to a prerelease, you know the feeling.  You get a box and you have thirty minutes to draft a deck on the fly with what you have.  You learn the economy of the cards and the existence of rules.  When you win, it’s a special feeling of accomplishment.  You did it yourself and the playing field was level and fair.  And then you sit around with a bunch of loud mouth know it all’s who crush you and laugh about it.  All the while the game’s fun fades into a lecture of mansplaining.  Nowhere does this tendency reel it’s ugly head than in the pundits and the stock markets.  Men telling you what’s best to do with your money.  Men with agendas so blatant it bleeds through the semi annual reports I sift through looking at investment ecosystems of days gone by.  Real estate is a pretty funny one to look at in COVID-19 times.  Nobody feels safe in the office.  Deutschbank recently turned heads saying that people working from home making a paltry sum of 55,000 should pay a tax.  The same week Ken Grfifin spent millions of dollars assaulting a fair tax amendment which died a quiet death.  Real estate sits empty in large droves downtown these days.  Chicago enters another stay at home order Monday which is somewhat of a relief for me.  It’s basically thirty days of respite from people wondering what I’m doing with my time.  Meanwhile we are lectured that we are supposed to save the economy by spending our money eating out instead of enjoying cooking your own meal in the kitchen.  This is incidentally why I like going to to grocery store.  Nobody ever asked but I was anorexic in high school.  I loved coca cola when i was little.  I used to drink too much of it and got a small belly.  When I was twelve American kids used to make fun of my weight.  I was a harsh critic.  I still am.  And I tried to fix it by starving myself.  I promised I wouldn’t get heavy.  I never promised I wouldn’t stay real.  No one would ever know these intimate secrets about me if they didn’t read.  And yet there’s people out there who will lift those very words to figure out a new attack on me.  You’ve got to wonder if I’m so transparent what other people are hiding under the surface if they’re so much more successful than I.

The truth is that I stay down here and write because I’ve found friends to connect with.  It may have not always been the most obvious or personal way to maintain contact.  But nowadays what else do we really have?  A bunch of people who speak through money instead of emotion.  People who assign value and compare each other based on speculation rather than connection.  I often feel like nobody knows what I’m worth.  This is perverse to watch as my bank reports my net worth rising when I spent so many years in debt.  And yet every day I go out in society people follow me around and talk so much about me but never to my face.  Are they scared to find out who I really am?  Are they trying to figure out what makes me so special?  Do they ever succeed?  No.  Things just end up sucking even more.  When the rules change and cheating doesn’t pan out anymore, they figure out more ways to be corrupt.  New ways to target you and intimidate.  New ways to control who you think you are.  All the while advertising this country as the freest place on Earth.  I don’t feel free.  I feel trapped, isolated and caged.  Mostly now for my protection granted.  Which is important to note that the only one keeping me safe is myself.  Nobody really has done me any favors.  It’s been a fucking insult to live out since the summer.  And yet, I still have to keep my shit together.  I have to be there for myself emotionally.  I need to feed ecosystems that I feel a part of.  And we all do this in varying ways seeking connection.  When I come to Tumblr, there isn’t some huge expectation that any of this does anything other than share my feelings.  Are my feelings valued?  Here, yes they are.  Sometimes they are valued in ways that I cannot betray or explain.  And there’s a sort of sacred intimacy to that I have never experienced in my life.  I wonder sometimes how people think they’ll ever fall in love if they can’t feel it.  Love is much more complex than the sum of it’s parts we’ve melted it down to to market back and sell at a cut rate.  Love is supposed to transcend, renew and replenish the soul to keep on existing.  Love isn’t a dividend in your stock portfolio or a cadre of late night trysts that haunt you and demand attention.  Love is a lingering spirit in the dark leading you towards a light.  Sometimes you fear being hurt again.  Sometimes you fear the change.  Sometimes you are excited and afraid.  But love never rushes.  Love never is easy.  Love is never right out there in front of your face demanding affirmation every moment of the day without anything in return.  Love doesn’t forget you and leave you alone in the dark crying for some sort of purpose.  Love isn’t a waste of fucking time.  Patience isn’t either.  And you will never feel the depth of love if you force it.  Love will come to you when it’s time for it to blossom.  Love is part of an ecosystem of connections and kindness you nurture with nothing in return.  But love doesn’t come for free.  There is a cost to love beyond dollars, yen, yuan, won or bitcoin.  You can’t speculate on something you don’t control.  And love is free, chaotic, and most of all nurturing.  Love isn’t a competition.  It’s not something you can quantify and bottle up.  Love is about as heavy as it gets for Saturday morning.  So if anything just remember I love you all.  One person more than most as always.  That’s about as free as I can be.  And if you fuck with my love I will leave you cold in the shadows where you belong not I.  It’s nothing personal.  It’s all love. <3 Tim

[news-ase]

[my-one-love-is-music]

Is That a Sunburn or a Blush?

Summary: Jason was always annoyed when Dick's boyfriend came in while they were working. It meant Dick was standing around and just talking for at least an hour while he was left with all the work. But one day Wally brings in his cousin who has a friend with him. And maybe he's not quite so annoyed after that.

For JayTimWeek Day 2: Sunburn/Summer Job

Also on AO3!

“Wally!”

Jason groaned at the sound of Dick’s voice ringing out in the beachside shack. He’d been more than thankful to have even gotten the job. It meant that he’d get to make some extra cash during the summer now that he was halfway through high school and would be looking at colleges before long. And it meant that he would have a little extra money to spend on books since his mom was getting tired of buying them for him every time a new sci-fi or fantasy novel came out that he liked.

He peeked around the corner from where he was filling drink orders and saw Dick animatedly talking to his boyfriend. He furrowed his brow at the addition of another brunette and dark-haired boy who were standing behind him and talking to each other. Jason sighed and quickly filled the rest of the glasses that he’d have to take out to waiting customers. He’d probably be left flying solo for at least the next hour. What made it worse was that Dick never seemed to get in trouble for spending so long talking to his boyfriend and fucking off on the job.

It probably helped that he was so genuinely bright and happy and the longer that Wally stayed, the more food and drinks he’d buy. Jason knew that Dick did that on purpose because he was totally a manipulative bastard that twisted things to his advantage. When it came to work and avoiding trouble, anyway.

“Dick, don’t just stand there all day and talk to your boyfriend,” Jason said as he walked past him with his tray to keep passing out drinks. “You have an actual job you know and I’m tired of getting left with all the work while you decide to fuck around.” He didn’t even stop to look at the group.

“Jason you should come and introduce yourself to who Wally brought with him,” Dick answered instead.

Jason set down the last drink with a huff and turned to look at Dick. “I should keep working so that I don’t get fired.”

“It’ll only be for a minute, you won’t get fired over that.”

Jason grumbled but walked over to him anyway. He nodded at Wally who smiled back in return.

“This is my cousin, Bart. I think that you’ve met him before.”

“Just once,” Jason said, shrugging. “Hey Bart.”

“Hey, Jason! This is my friend Tim!” He pulled the boy he was with forward so abruptly that he stumbled and his bangs fell into his face, forcing him to brush them aside.

Tim stared up at him for a few moments. “Hi Jason.”

Jason swallowed because Tim was a little too cute. More than anyone had the right to be. “Hi.” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat, embarrassed. “I should get back to work,” he said before rushing off. He tried to argue with himself that it wasn’t because he was going to hide, but all of his reasons fell flat. He was totally running away to hide.

Jason focused on his work the rest of the time Dick spent chatting with Wally. He was okay with it though, because it kept him busy and mostly kept him from sneaking glances in Tim’s direction. Sometimes he would catch him smiling and laughing at something that Bart had said. Other times, he was watching him as he worked, biting his lip or responding to whatever Bart was saying, half-heartedly.

It was one of the reasons why he almost jumped out of his skin when he turned around and found Tim standing there behind him. He nearly let out a shout and clutched his tray close to his chest before relaxing and willing his heartbeat to slow down from the impromptu fright.

“Oh, Tim. It’s you.”

Tim’s lips quirked and Jason was nearly mesmerized by the action. “Sorry, did I scare you?”

Jason held up his thumb and forefinger so they were barely a millimeter apart. “Only a little.”

Tim smiled. “Sorry. I was just hoping to grab a soda to go before we left.”

Jason looked around Tim and found Dick still very much engrossed in a conversation with Wally. “You sure you’re leaving anytime soon?”

“I’m hoping that this’ll be enough to convince them. As much as I would love to spend the rest of my day here, listening to Dick and Wally being grossly in love gets very old, very fast.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Believe me, I’ve seen it enough times to know exactly how they can be and how much work Dick doesn’t do.”

Tim chuckled and Jason smiled at how easy conversation came between the two of them.

“Follow me over to the counter and I can get you that drink.”

They weaved their way through the tables and Tim leaned against the counter as Jason slid behind it, tucking his tray onto a shelf that was hidden underneath.

“What size do you want?” he asked, reached over towards the cups.

“Smallest you have is fine and make it a coke.”

Jason tried not to focus on where Tim’s forearms were braced against the counter, thankful that he had to turn his back to him to use the soda machine. He filled his cup quickly and stuck on a lid and slid a straw through the plastic. He turned back to Tim and set it in front of him.

“That’ll be $2.”

Tim stuffed one of his hands into the pocket of his shorts and pulled out a handful of crumpled bills. He grabbed to dollar bills from whatever else he was carrying and slid them over the counter to Jason who took them carefully, having to stifle the urge to suck in a breath when their fingers brushed.

“Thanks, Jason,” Tim said, picking up the drink and walking away.

“Yeah, no problem,” he whispered as he watched him walk away. He didn’t even move when Tim caught the attention of everyone else and Wally managed to pull himself away from Dick to leave. Tim shot him one last look and he couldn’t even be embarrassed about being caught staring.

“Well someone seems to have become pretty fond of Bart’s friend,” Dick said, sliding behind the counter next to Jason.

Jason shot him a glare, finally snapping out of his trance even though the group had already been gone for a few minutes. “Yeah, right,” he said, walked back out into the sitting area to take care of customers.

“Oh, don’t think that you can deny it. I saw the two of you looking at each other. You definitely think he’s cute.”

“So what if I do?” Jason asked, picking up empty glasses at abandoned tables now that the rush of customers had started to diminish enough for them to clean up. “What does it matter if I find him attractive?”

“It matters because you should totally ask him out. I’m sure that I could get Wally to bring him back sometime and you two can have a real conversation that doesn’t consist of him ordering a drink and then leaving with his friends.”

“Look, Dick. It doesn’t matter whether I like him or not. Just get back to work and help me with these tables after you did nothing for the past hour except stand around and talk.”

Dick rolled his eyes. “Fine. But I’m not letting this one go. I’ll get you and Tim together even if it kills me.”

“Good luck with that, Dickhead. You’re going to be waiting a long time.”

Jason did his best to keep himself focused for the rest of his shift, but his mind kept wandering back to Tim even when he was rushing around to fill orders. He wondered where he was on the beach and what he was doing with Bart. He wondered if they were swimming in the ocean or laying in the Sun to try and get tan. There were only so many days that they could enjoy it and darken their skin before the school year was set to start again after all. He was so distracted by his thoughts that he couldn’t even be bothered by the women, and sometimes men, who shamelessly stared at him.

Normally the attention would make him uncomfortable because they were so much older than him and he was still in high school. His growth spurt that had happened the year before had made him extremely self-conscious about his new height. He’d gotten used to it for the most part and didn’t trip over his own two feet or run into doorways as much, but there were still times, especially when he caught people staring, that it would dredge up awkward early teenage feelings.

A lot of his new confidence had come when he’d started going to the gym. It gave him a better understanding of his body and he felt more capable in himself, especially as he started to build muscle and bulked up. Dick had joked that he was only doing it for the ladies, but he knew about the confidence issues that he’d gone through and thought that it was a good thing for him to find some way to motivate himself.

Jason tried to push the thoughts of Tim from his head. He left work after the shack closed and went straight to the gym as he usually did. He plugged in his headphones and cranked up his music, working to block out all of his thoughts and was thankful that he was successful for the most part. He chastised himself for doing more than he should have, but when he fell into his bed that night and was able to pass out almost immediately, he couldn’t find himself to care because it meant that his thoughts wouldn’t keep him up late.

The next day offered a nice dip in the temperature and gave the workers at the shack a break from the humidity that sometimes plagued them as they were working. The light breeze that was blowing in from the ocean and the fans that were hooked up in the different corners of the eating area helped to keep everyone cool, especially when the workers couldn’t dash off to jump into the water to cool off like the customers could. Jason was just glad that the dress code was relaxed enough so he wasn’t dying from the heat.

The number of people that filed into the shack was surprising and kept them all busy with getting out orders and making sure that everyone was served. They weren’t even lucky enough to have the usual afternoon lag after everyone got lunch and before customers started to show up for snacks and more drinks.

It was probably why he was most surprised to turn around and find Tim waiting at the counter with Bart.

“Tim!” Jason blurted.

“Hi Jason,” he said, smiling.

Jason cleared his throat. “Back again, I see. What can I get you two today?”

“Two cokes and a large order of chili cheese fries,” Bart said, jumping in.

“Right,” he said, inputting the order on the register. “That’ll be $8.48.”

Bart slid over a ten dollar bill and Jason placed it into the register before handing back his change and receipt.

“Go ahead and take a seat and we’ll have it right out.”

Bart was already walking away before he even got the words out of his mouth.

“Thanks Jason,” Tim said as he followed after his friend to a table on the far side of the shack.

Jason swallowed and forced himself to turn around and add the order to the lineup for the kitchen.

“Hey, look who’s back!” Dick said, coming up behind him and throwing an arm around his shoulders.

Jason immediately shrugged off his limb and moved away to fill their drinks. “Yeah, so what?”

“So what?” Dick asked, raising an eye conspiratorially. “So you should ask him for his number! Or out to lunch, at least. You just met for the first time yesterday and he’s already come back.”

“I’m not doing that,” he said, snapping the plastic lids onto the two cups. He grabbed two straws and moved out from behind the counter, walking purposefully through the tables to where he’d seen Tim and Bart sit down. “Here you go,” he said, sitting them down and handing over the straws. “Your order of fries has been put in and should be out soon.”

“Thanks Jason,” Tim said, sliding one of the straws over to him.

Jason nodded once before walking away. He glanced at Dick who as obviously watching him, but ignored his gaze as best he could. He heard the bell ring behind him and turned to help the next customer in line, but Dick slid in front of him.

“You should take that order out to table 16, don’t you think?” he asked with a wink.

Jason glared, but turned to pick up the basket of fries. He skirted around the edge of the counter and made his way back through the tables, making a mental note of which ones needed to be cleaned after customers had left when he wasn’t looking. Tim looked up at him expectantly as he approached with their food while Bart continued on, guiding the conversation and doing most of the talking.

“Your fries,” he said, setting the basket down between them.

“Thanks,” Tim said, scratching the back of his head.

Jason smiled and turned back to find Dick grinning widely at him. He rolled his eyes and picked up empty glasses and plates on his trip back.

“Go clean the empty tables and shut up.”

Dick didn’t stop smiling at him the rest of the day. Especially after he dropped the change he was counting when he caught Tim smiling at him before he left.

The days continued to pass. Some were better than others. Some were hotter than others. And they even got the occasional day off of work because of a really bad thunderstorm that was passing over Gotham. They couldn’t exactly run the shack when there was a downpour and lightning. And there wouldn’t be anyone at the beach either so the owners would’ve just been losing money.

Tim would stop in every time that he was at the beach, or that’s what Jason thought with the amount of times that he saw him. And Dick never failed to tease him over it. Whenever that happened, Jason did his best to get back at Dick when Wally came to talk to him. Sometimes he succeeded and sometimes he didn’t. Most of the time when he failed it was because Tim was there with Wally and Bart and he was practically tripping over himself.

And then the day came when Tim came in alone. And Jason couldn’t help but notice the red tint to his skin that was unmistakable. He came up to the counter and smiled in the way he usually did when he saw Jason, lips quirking up in the corners, barely biting his lip, and eyes shining bright. He walked over to the counter and leaned up against it, shoulders hunching forward towards Jason as he crossed his arms.

“Hi Jason,” he greeted.

“You look like you got a little bit of sun,” Jason said, nodding towards his shoulders.

Tim held out his arms and inspected them, wincing slightly at the bright color. “Yeah, I forgot to put on sunscreen the other day and now I’m paying the price.”

Jason smiled wryly. “You shouldn’t be out in the Sun when you’ve already been burned. Or you should wear a shirt.”

Tim shrugged. “I have a shirt back with my towel and everything else. And if I didn’t come out, then I wouldn’t be able to stop by and see you here.”

Jason blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess.”

“But I appreciate your concern.”

“Shut up. What can I get you today? The usual coke to go?” he asked, turning towards the cups.

“And an ice cream.”

“Sure thing.” Jason filled the cup quickly and passed it over the counter and reached into the freezer to pull out one of the prewrapped ice cream cones that were always popular with customers who were looking for a quick treat to cool themselves down.

Tim took the cone from his hand and set it top down on the counter so the cone was sticking in the air as he dug into the pocket of his shorts for his wallet.

“How much is it?” he asked, pulling his wallet free.

“It’s-“

“It’s on the house!” Dick exclaimed, sticking out his head from the back room.

Tim stared at him, eyes wide and fingers hovering over the bills that he was getting ready to leaf through. His brow furrows as his hands dipped slightly. “Really?”

“Yeah! Take it!” Dick said, reinforcing his point before disappearing around the corner.

Tim was frowning slightly as he stuffed his wallet back into his pocket and picked up his drink and ice cream. “Tell Dick I said thanks, I guess.”

Jason was also watching the place where he’d just disappeared. “Yeah, sure thing…”

“I’ll see you later,” he said, giving the corner one last look before walking away.

As soon as Tim was out of sight, Dick peeked around the corner and found Jason still watching him.

“Dick…what was that?” he asked, still trying to figure out what had just transpired.

“I was trying to help you out, man. You’ve got to be a little more forward if you want Tim to know that you like him.”

“What do you mean if I want Tim to know that I like him?”

“I mean exactly that! Be a little more open! Or finally work up the courage to ask him out on a date. It’s obvious that he likes you, too. Start buying his food when he comes in. He’s certainly here enough, both with Bart and by himself.”

Jason shook his head, unable to believe that they were actually having this conversation. “I don’t even know what to say with this.”

“You don’t have to say anything, just ask him out the next time you see him. If you don’t act now, he’s probably going to lose interest because you keep sending him mixed signals.”

Jason just shook his head and moved out from behind the counter to go and start collecting glasses. “Whatever. Just get back to work since Wally’s not hanging around here for once.”

“Wally!” Dick exclaimed, perking up.

Jason groaned as he caught sight of the redhead at the entrance to the shack. He shook his head and got back to work, taking care of all of the tables that Dick was supposed to take care of and would just be neglected if Jason didn’t do something about it. At least it was the middle of the afternoon and they didn’t have a large crowd. There was one thing he could say about Wally’s visits: they were strategically timed.

“Hey Jason, do you mind taking out the trash?” Dick asked as he stepped out from the back room.

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Why can’t you do it?” he asked.

“Please? I’ll do it the next two times, I promise.”

Jason crossed his arms. “You mean, you’ll do it the next two times if Wally isn’t here to distract you.”

“Glad you’re okay with it! Here you go,” he said thrusting a trash bag at him before walking away.

Jason shook his head, fighting down the urge to smack Dick with one of the serving trays and headed towards the back door. At least he didn’t have to walk very far to get to the dumpster that they used. He started to push the back door to the shack open, but stopped when he heard the soft murmurs of voices. He pushed the door open slightly and saw that it was Bart and Tim who were talking. Tim was still holding his drink and unopened ice cream.

“I’m telling him, man, you should just ask him out!” Bart huffed, obviously annoyed.

“Why? He probably doesn’t even like me!” Tim argued back.

“Dude you keep telling me that, but I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about. He totally likes you! He can’t take his eyes off of you whenever you’re in the place!”

“I’m sure that doesn’t mean anything…” he trailed off weakly.

“And didn’t you just get a free drink and ice cream?”

“I told you that was because of Dick. Jason was just the one who was giving my order to me.”

“Well if it took Dick saying that to make it happen, then Jason definitely likes you! It wouldn’t have happened otherwise and he was probably too nervous to do it himself.”

“I’m sure that people ask him out all the time at work. It would just be creepy if I was another one of those people.”

“No it wouldn’t be,” Bart started as Jason shoved the door open, having heard all that he needed.

“No it wouldn’t be.”

Tim whirled around at the sound of his voice.

“Jason! Oh, um…how much did you hear?” he asked, blush spreading quickly across his cheeks.

“I heard enough to know that you like me and that Bart was trying to convince you to ask me out.”

“Oh-oh. Look sorry about that. I’m not trying to be creepy and I was telling him-“

“So you should.”

“I’m sorry…what?” Tim asked, eyes going wide.

“You should ask me out.”

“But wouldn’t you find that weird? I mean, you work here all day and I don’t want to be one of those weird customers that you get. It would just make things awkward and then you’d start avoiding me…”

“No, I wouldn’t,” Jason said, stepping further outside even with the bag of trash clutched tightly in his hand. He didn’t know where all of his confidence was coming from especially since he was talking to Tim and was holding a bag of garbage, but he wasn’t going to question it, just use it to his advantage. “So you should ask me out, because I would definitely say yes.”

“Wait, really?!” Tim asked, eyes going wide as he excitedly took a step forward.

Jason chuckled and felt a blush bloom to life across his own cheeks. He scratched his cheek, embarrassed. “Yeah, yeah I would.”

“Jason?” Tim asked.

“Yeah?”

“Will you go out with me?”

Jason looked up and took in Tim’s easy smile and brightly shining eyes and smiled himself.

“Yes.”

#jaytim #jaytimweek #molim writes

[megacreativewriter]

Human Toilet at the Club Pt. 03

Introduction:

All characters depicted in this story are above the age of 18.All characters depicted in this story are above the age of 18.

*****

Chapter 6

I couldn't think straight. The dildo in my ass was stretching me out. My ass burned from its size, holding me open and filling me. But, what was worse than the dildo was my sister's shit. It had taken over my senses. It's all I could smell, taste, feel, and think about. I spent the next 10 minutes trying to hold the turd down. If I threw it up, I would have to swallow it down again—or otherwise drown. As much as drowning had its appeal, a small part of me liked what was happening. I felt special, like my service to these women gave me purpose. It's as if I could finally be useful to women, and that gave me worth. Maybe if Lauren saw how good of a toilet I was, she would take me with her to college to serve as her toilet. Then, I could be with her again. Or, maybe I was going insane from the toxic shit inside of me.

My thoughts were interrupted by a woman walking into my stall. She was a cute Asian teenager, perhaps of Filipino heritage. She was petite, and had little curvature. She wore a tight, short white dress. Her dark tan skin contrasted against the whiteness of her outfit, and I thought she looked beautiful. She peered down into the toilet and giggled at the sight of me. Her smile was friendly in a bubbly way. She was cute, and I was excited to service her. I hoped she only had to pee. Maybe that would get the taste of my sister's shit out of my mouth.

She pulled her dress over her head, revealing an amazing body. She was toned, with a flat stomach and small tits. Her tits had dark, puffy nipples. They were perfectly sized, and would fit nicely in a hand. "Not that it would ever be my hand," I thought to myself. Nevertheless, I would get to share in an intimate act with this cute teen, and that made me tingle. I started to get erect again while admiring the musculature of her thighs. "Notice anything special about me, toilet?" she asked, in a playful and seductive voice. I scanned her body, looking for something unexpected. My eyes stopped at her red laced panties. It was difficult to tell from my angle, but her pubic mound seemed to bulge more than the other girls I had seen. She noticed me eying her panties and said, "Looks like you found my little secret, toilet. You get a prize!"

With that, she turned around and gave me a little striptease. I was confused, but enjoying the show. After being treated so terribly by the other women, this lady's positive attitude was a pleasant change. She showed me her bum, and gave it a little shake up and down. Her ass jiggled, and I got a whiff of her perfume from the movement. She smelled sweet, like sugar cookies. The smell was especially welcoming because it was the first time in 15 minutes that I wasn't smelling putrid shit. She then hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and slowly pulled them down. Rather quickly, she sat on my face. That's when I clued in.

Lying across my face was a small, semi erect dick, about 4 inches in length. She was completely hairless, and I could feel her smooth balls resting under my chin. Her dick sat across my lips, stopping right next to my nose. It was hot in temperature, and I could feel her heartbeat radiate within it. It smelled like her perfume, and was remarkably clean. "Do you like your prize?" she asked me. I knew better than to talk. She looked through her legs and into my eyes and smiled. "You ever sucked a dick, toilet boy?" I knew what I had to do next. I always had a thing for cute trans girls, and I was excited for this opportunity. I wanted to please this angel sitting on top of me.

I opened my mouth and slowly wrapped my lips around her dick. She let out a soft moan of content, and leaned forward so I had better access to her. I ran my tongue along the underside of her hardening dick, feeling it twitch with excitement. The first thing I noticed was how soft and smooth her dick was. I could taste a slight saltiness in the tip of her pee hole. I started sucking her dick, pulling her deeper into my mouth. I was so turned on by this woman, I wanted to swallow her dick whole. While sucking her into me, I twirled my tongue around her head, trying my best to make her feel good. "Faster toilet, I'm almost there." She spread her legs and leaned forward, putting her hands on the front of the toilet seat for support. She swayed her hips back and forth, fucking my mouth with her rock-hard dick. I could feel her balls tighten as they slapped gently against my chin. I sucked her for all I was worth, hoping to make her cum hard.

My efforts were rewarded. She started to quiver as her breathing intensified. Through her labored breaths, she hissed, "Get ready." I whipped my tongue around her dick, and then sucked her in as hard as I could. She exhaled with a moan, and shot spurts of cum onto my tongue. The cum was hot from her body, and had a thick consistency. It had that same metallic and salty taste as pee. She shot load after load into my mouth as her dick convulsed wildly. She filled my mouth with cum, and I swallowed it excitedly. It turned me on knowing her cum was a part of me now. I was so happy to please this woman.

She sat on the toilet seat recovering her breath as her dick softened in my mouth. I didn't dare take it out of my mouth, I wanted this moment to last forever. Eventually, she looked at me and said, "thank you, toilet boy." Her smile was warm, and I felt love for this girl. Suddenly, I felt her dick move, and she started pissing in my mouth. Her dick was positioned to piss right down my throat, so I relaxed and let her pee flow through her and into me. Her piss was less strong than the other ladies, and had a slippery consistency due to the left over cum. Her stream slowed, and I sucked the remainder of her piss out of her dick like a straw.

She stood up, and put her panties and dress back on. Before leaving, she turned around to face me, and shot me one last warm smile. As she walked out of the bathroom, I thought about what just happened. I felt a love for that girl. I barely knew her, but she fulfilled one of my deepest fantasies, and I got the thanks for it. I felt proud of my service to her. Getting the opportunity to pleasure women like this made me reconsider this job. "Maybe this is the right place for me," I thought, feeling elated from the woman who just left. "As long as I don't have to eat more shit." But I knew that as a toilet, you have to take the bad with the good.

Chapter 7

The next woman to walk into my stall surprised me. As she walked in, I noticed her outfit was more conservative than the ones I've seen so far. Grey knee-length pencil skirt with a white button-up blouse tucked in. The woman's hair was shoulder length, straight brown hair. She wore black, squared-framed glasses. I saw her hands as she started to undress, and I could tell from their look that she was older—probably in her late 30s. I wondered why such a professional looking person was in a club like this.

"So, you're the new toilet," she said as she turned and looked into my bowl. "Oh my, it's you!" her surprise was met by my own. Standing above me was my 11th grade English teacher, Ms. Stone. "Oh you poor, poor kid. I can't believe it's you in there." She looked genuinely concerned, but then her eyebrow shot up, and she became dubious. "I guess it makes sense, you never were a high achiever. I just thought you weren't interested in school, though seeing where you are now, I suspect you're just an idiot. That's too bad." I was shocked at her words. Ms. Stone was absolutely gorgeous in the most terrifying of ways. All the boys at school wanted a night with her, but none of them dared to disrespect her. She was a strict teacher, but she was always kind to me. "Until now, I suppose," I thought as she stared at me.

After some time of looking contemplative, she finally spoke, "I've been coming here since I was in high school. I used to be scared to use the toilets, but after I tried it for the first time..." she trailed off, smiling devilishly whilst in thought. "See, I want to use you, but I don't want to use you. If word gets out that I defecate in human toilets, let alone students, then I could lose my job. But, seeing as you have a track record of being a failure, I think you'll likely die before you get released from here. If they ever let you out, that is." I stared at her, processing what she just said. "Fuck it, I drove all the way here..." she started to get undressed. I remember all the nights I jacked off to thoughts of Ms. Stone. Watching her undress should be a dream come true to me.

But I was so wrapped up in what she said that I couldn't enjoy the moment. "Was I really going to die here?" The question echoed in my mind. Her words were so harsh that tears welled up in my eyes. I didn't want to die, especially not from being a toilet. My anxiety rose and my heart started beating. Reality set in. Serving women may be a turn on, but what happens when I choke to death on a turd? They'll dispose of my body and all I will have done with my life is eat shit. What especially hurt is that my sister knows I could die in here, and she doesn't care. Sure, my sister and I haven't been on great terms growing up, but deep down I still loved her. Even after she shat in my mouth, I still loved her. The fact that she doesn't care if I die stung deeply. I started crying.

Ms. Stone saw me crying and pressed the button. The dildo shot an inch forward, painfully filling me with its mass. The penetration jolted me out of my thoughts and I looked at Ms. Stone, who was now completely naked. "Toilets don't cry. Shut the fuck up, and I'll give you something real to cry about." Her words were venomous, and threatened me to my core.

Nevertheless, I couldn't help but admire her body. She was about 5'8", and clearly took care of herself. Her breasts were small and perky. Her skin was tan and covered in freckles. She was thin, but with wide hip bones framing her stomach in a "V" shape that lead down to her pussy. Her bush was trimmed, but still bigger than the other girls. It was light brown and looked soft. Her pussy was blushed red, and puffy. Her inner lips protruded out of her outer ones. Her body was better than how I imagined it.

She turned around and began to sit. The skin of her ass was showing her age, slightly blemished and covered in a very light sprinkling of peach fuzz. I looked into her ass crack and saw her dark, puckered hole covered in hair. As I got a mouthful of hairy pussy I was hit with a muskier smell than the other women. Maybe it was her age, but her natural perfume was intoxicatingly strong. It smelled like stale pee and body odor, and I wished I could smell it for the rest of my life. She started peeing, and her stream was stronger than usual, like she was intentionally pushing it out with force. It sprayed all over my mouth and down my throat. It tasted stronger than the other ladies, and the metallic flavor made my jaw tingle uncomfortably. I struggled to keep up, but I managed to in the end.

I licked her clean, and the taste of her pussy was overwhelming. It was somehow both awful and delicious. Her pussy's musky lubricant stuck to my tongue like syrup, and I wished I could eat her out forever. She then adjusted herself on the toilet seat, pushing my nose into her pussy. I found it difficult to breathe, and it smelled strong of her pussy. Her pubic hair tickled my nose. She pushed her asshole into my mouth and I could already taste the mild tones of shit. Her ass hairs scratched my lips.

"I wished I had time to tease you and savor the moment, but I'm afraid nature is calling more urgently today." She spoke professionally, contrasting the situation completely. Before I had time to process what she meant, her rosebud burst into my mouth. Soft, liquid shit splattered explosively into my mouth as she farted out her diarrhea with force. This was much worse than my sister's shit. Small chunks of poo pooled at the back of my throat while a vile liquid with the consistency of cum filled my cheeks. I had to swallow quickly or I'd drown. I started swallowing as my whole body wretched with pain. The taste was so strong, and she kept filling my mouth with her diarrhea. Every swallow was matched with her asshole squeezing more liquid shit into my mouth. Tears ran down my eyes as I drank Ms. Stone's shit. I looked up at her face, her eyes were closed, her cheeks were blushed and her lips were pursed. She was clearly deeply aroused.

Eventually, the continuous flow slowed. I could feel her squeezing her abdomen, trying to push the remainder of her diarrhea into my mouth. Each push squirted a little more of her shitty juice into my mouth. I put my tongue on her asshole, and I could feel it opening to accommodate a small log of shit as it fell on to my tongue. I finally finished swallowing what felt like an eternity of shit. I sat there with my lips sealed around her asshole as she blew her last remaining farts into my mouth.

I felt her body quivering above me, and my nose was wet with the pussy juices oozing out of her. She must have orgasmed from shitting in my mouth. In a low, guttural post-orgasm voice she said, "Clean me, boy" I wiped her slimy, rotten asshole with my tongue, feeling her liquid shit flow down my tongue and into my throat. I cleaned off her shit-stained ass hairs and circled around her asshole with my tongue, cleaning her thoroughly. She stood up and began dressing again. When she stood, I could smell myself. I reeked of rotten shit, and I wanted to throw up. I could feel her diarrhea churning in my stomach, unsettling my whole body. The prospect of dying didn't seem so bad anymore.

When she was dressed, Ms. Stone said, "Good luck, slave. I hope you had a good life, and I'm sorry it has to end like this." She left, leaving me filled with her shit. I tried to focus on the dildo stretching me out, hoping it would distract me from the foul taste. Instead, I just felt the pain of the dildo, and tasted the shit of the evilest English teacher I have ever met.

More to come...

Hello everyone! I hope you are enjoying my stories so far. I love writing erotica, and would like to use my skills to help pay for school. I have started a Patreon, where I will post tons of stories. I am also able to write custom stories, where you choose details such as character names, categories, plots, and more. I will write perverse stories in a variety of categories.

#dream diary

[angry-woman]

The “Best Self”

I try not to focus on this idea of being your "best self", as more often than not I find I disappoint myself. I'm not sure if this has more to do with the fact that I have a hard time learning from my mistakes, or the fact that our "best selves" will always seem a little out of reach. This isn't necessarily a bad thing; wanting to consistently better ourselves should be one of those unachievable goals that we all strive for anyway, no matter how difficult it may seem. That being said, staying in bed instead of going to my 8:45 am class, or getting "full" on a bag of chips rather than something with nutritional value feels so much better than doing the right thing.

I remember having an argument, or maybe not so much an argument as a heated discussion, with my partner about this philosopher and what he believed about regret; (I'm paraphrasing here, so bear with me) basically he said that we shouldn't have regret because we did the best we could with what we had at the time. I couldn't really agree with this because personally, I know that a lot of the decisions I make are not because I'm trying my best, but because I'm lazy, or anxious, or hungry, or trying to avoid something I'd really just rather not do. For me, this brings up my biggest issue, or I guess difficulty with the concept of the "best self". How do you continue to strive to be your best self when you consciously keep making decisions that contradict who that version of you is supposed to be?

"I should take Norah outside for a walk now..." *Watches 4 more episodes of Gossip Girl*.

"I really should only have one piece of bacon." *Makes six pieces of bacon*.

"I should prepare for my in-class essay tomorrow morning." *Reads half the book and thanks the English literature gods for the ability to bullshit my way into at least a B-*

I've managed to learn how to live comfortably in my "ok self". Last week, I did yoga for three whole days in a row, (preceded by 6 hours of binge watching on our god awful uncomfortable couch that undid whatever the yoga accomplished). And this brings up a subject that I think plays a big part in our abilities to actually *be* our best selves- if you're not comfortable in your own skin, with the way you look, no matter how hard you work to achieve your goals, what does any of that accomplishment mean? It sounds like I'm arguing against even trying to be a better person, which is not my intention, and maybe the only reason I'm writing this essay is to justify to myself that the lack of effort I put into things I know will make me healthier, stronger, more comfortable with myself, is ok.

Last week, I genuinely considered for a whole 30 seconds to start working out everyday. I had this image in my head of what I would look like with glistening, rippled abs. I could be one of those girls who can wear low rise jeans and crop tops. I could work out in just a sports bra instead of a giant t-shirt from some high school I never went to. I could post pictures on Instagram of me post-work out being like, "oh my god, fuck abs day" but like obviously not fuck abs day because I'm super fit and want everyone to know it. I wouldn't say I'm overweight by any means. I'm 5'8 and weigh 130 pounds, which is “normal”. I always try to preface to people when having a conversation about my weight that I smoked weed religiously for 8 years of my life and during that time, never weighed a pound over 105. People find this hard to believe, often replying with something like "but how does that make sense? Wouldn't being high all the time make you eat a lot and gain weight?" And not that I'm at all qualified to make this assessment but like I'm sure being in the most essential stages of growth and having your body rely on something like weed to function definitely takes a toll on the development of your metabolism. So anyway, 3 years ago, I made the decision to quit cold turkey. And I did, for 46 days. For the first two weeks, I couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't write, couldn't function normally because my normal was being high. Not being high felt like I was high. But in an attempt to be my "best self", it was a decision that needed to be made. I was tired of feeling like I didn't have control over my life.

In a matter of 2 months, I put on 25 pounds. This could be attributed to the fact that I started drinking a lot more alcohol after I quit smoking weed. Or maybe my metabolism was like, this girl was fucking around on me for 8 years, time to get my revenge. Either way, I had to throw out 75% of my clothes. The people closest to me would say things like, "wow, you look so healthy now!" which I know was coming from a good place but I didn't feel healthy. I wasn't comfortable in this new body. My mom told me I was "becoming a woman" (which I didn't really believe because I've had huge boobs since like grade 7). I would look at myself in the mirror and not recognize the person staring back. It didn't help that I've struggled with depression and poor self esteem (or I guess to have poor self esteem means you have any at all, which isn't the case) my entire life, so regardless if putting on the weight was healthy or not, to me, it sucked.        

You would think this would be the motivation I needed to start working out regularly and eating healthy, but as I’m writing this, I’m eating Smartfood white cheddar popcorn and drinking Molson Export. It’s taken me almost all of the 3 years since I’ve quit to start getting comfortable with the way I look. I have curves now, which is kind of nice, especially because of the big boob thing; I was always very disproportionate, think of an upside down pear. I am definitely not my best self, but I am living the result of an attempt to get there, and technically, that is something. Right now, my best self is enjoying this popcorn and beer and ignoring an essay for school to write an essay about how I should be better and more responsible. I know I will never be so put together that I wash my face before bed every night, but I told my partner this morning that maybe a way to motivate me to work out more would be to like not allow myself to watch TV until I’ve done 20 minutes of cardio and some sort of Youtube workout routine, (and this is kind of a big deal because I’m literally always watching TV). I want to tell myself that even thinking about being better is a start, but thinking doesn’t make me healthier. Actually thinking, for me as a chronic over-thinker, is pretty much the opposite of healthy. The only way I can start taking better care of myself is if I get off my ass and just do it.

That being said- I’m tired of making myself feel like just because I’m not where I want to be, or where I should be, or where other people are around me, doesn’t mean I’m not my “good” self. I love eating junk food, I love drinking beer, and I love watching shitty TV shows because all of these things make me feel good. Being comfortable enough with myself that that can be enough sometimes, makes me feel good. And honestly, being able to feel something after 8 years of marijuana dependency, a time when I didn’t feel anything, is huge- and if I stuck with that, maybe the exercise bike in my apartment will do more for me than act as a catalyst of guilt.  

#best self #essay #personal essay #montreal writers #writers #writing #non fiction

[serenagaywaterford]

14) possible. Huge mistake, imo" Yeah. The show is already dragging. If they keep this up, the series will eventually lose a lot of its charm and meaning. e) "So, without June around I feel like Serena will just go back to old ways. Which is ridic cos she is an intelligent, powerful woman when she actually has the balls." Indeed. It's like Gilead has taken its toll on her and reduced her to a coward. Pre-Gilead Serena was a firecracker, even if she was fighting on the wrong side (that sounded

15) manichaeistic, but you know what I mean). For the record, I do believe they’ll give her some sort of redemption at some point. I’m just a little pessimistic. How are they gonna sell it as plausible and organic after 2x10? We’ll see, I guess. f) “It was just such a prime example of exactly how they maintain power in Gilead and how they managed to get it working: estranging women from each other.” SO. MUCH. GOLD. Suffice it to say, I really liked that June confronted Fred, after she didn’t

16) manage to get through Serena’s walls (and pride).And don’t get me started on that white rose. Every single flower has a special meaning/symbolism on this show and given that the garden is the only thing left to Serena at this point (kudos for admitting that knitting sucks, Serena, I’m 100% with you on that LMAO)… Word though. That music box and the flower were certainly nice gifts (small steps are better than none), but I still think that Serena could have done better. If she could get rid

17) of Cushing that easily, she could have let June see Hannah. That would have been an EXCELLENT way to express her gratitude/show her kindness, but alas. As for June’s excitement with the gifts? I smiled, I couldn’t help it. But I also felt a little sad for her. She’s so used to Serena abusing her and treating her like a baby machine (instead of an actual person), that such a little kindness makes her happy af. It really astonishes me how empathic June is with Serena (funny aka not funny at

18) all how that same empathy doesn’t extend to Fred) in the finale, even after the 2x10 incident. She’s certainly got some Stockholm Syndrome going on, but it’s also not that simple? There’s the codependency (fuck you Fred), the intellectual compatibility (writer/editor), the fact they’re both victims of Gilead now and that they both didn’t try to burst their own personal bubbles when it mattered (pre-Gilead). Holly tried to wake June up of course, because things were looking grim, but June

19) ignored her. Damn, I could go and on about this toxic yet fascinating duo, but I’ll restrain myself.

———-

[I had to look up what manichaeistic means, and now I’ve learnt a new word! :D Also, yes, I totally get what you mean.] Firecracker is a good word. I feel like she’s one of those people who is super enthusiastic about ideals, and thinks they’re great ideas, and then… learns the hard way and is killed by their own ideas. (Literally or metaphorically.) She’s so interesting to watch because her pre-Gilead persona was quite a bit different, just in a different way than the other women. Hers isn’t so much a physical cage (like Handmaids and Marthas are literal slaves) as a psychological one. 

I honestly don’t know how they think they’re going to convince the viewers that Serena even deserves any sort of redemption story. 2x10 was a serious nail in the coffin. The only way I can even see it working if Serena suffers A LOT, shows genuine remorse and understanding, AND if we see things from June’s POV who gives Serena a pass for every single horrible thing she does. Serena is like June’s blindspot. It’s mental. Like you said, June is shockingly empathetic with Serena who doesn’t deserve it at all. She just never seems to give up on her no matter what horrible shit she does. Like??? And, yes, there is clearly some Stockholm Syndrome thing going on but it seems to me anyway, that June is very forgiving (most cos she has to be to survive physically and mentally) and that she’s really fucking good at compartmentalizing. If I’m correct about that last one, it’s going to come back and bite her in the ass one day and there will be a breakdown. You can only stuff things away in little boxes for so long before it all falls down. I have to think the relationship (whatever it is, antagonistic or cooperative) is so much more complex. 

I think to some degree, June sees Serena for what (a loser) she is and that is very scary for Serena, but for June it allows her to empathise a bit easier than most. I don’t think we as viewers even get many glimpses of Serena, just chilled out and herself as you would EXPECT a human being to be. One of those is 2x06 where I think the OG Serena comes thru esp the night fireside where Serena is like… a completely different person?? From the weird parroting of June’s slang, and probably one of the only times we actually see her smile authentically at feeling the baby move, to that weirdass attempt at bonding during that Handmaid party (wtf), she’s so socially awkward around women it’s unbelievable. (Maybe that’s the guilt when you’re faced with all these women your perfect society has enslaved!) But it’s like she really wants to make a connection for some reason. And then when June asks to see Hannah, and Serena just starts crying??? And we find out as she throws a plant pruning tantrum in her safe space lol it’s cos she thought her and June were actually becoming friends?????? LIKE. WHAT IS HAPPENING. What is this high school shit? That episode made it seem like Serena just really wants a girl friend and is pissed off cos she thinks June was only being nice to get close to her daughter –which duh. “I DID THESE WHOLE 3 NICE THINGS! WHY DOES SHE KEEP ASKING TO SEE HER KID? WHAT A DEVIOUS BITCH!!!!” (Clearly the other Wives aren’t real friends.) MAYBE, and I’m just throwing this out there, the best way to make friends is not kidnapping, enslaving, raping, and assaulting the girl you want to be your bestie lol??? Just a wild thought, Serena.

I’m not trying to woobiefy Serena, but when I watch that episode, it’s just such a different Serena than we’ve seen except in other glimpses (and usually those were just because Serena was directly getting something she wants), but in 2x06 she stays very consistent in it. And, incidentally, she doesn’t attack June at the end. She just runs off and sulks like a child. Then 2 episodes later, with Fred out of the picture, she’s back to wanting to be besties again, coming to June’s room and confiding in her and asking her advice and blah blah blah. It’s shit like that that make me wonder if that’s the side June relies on in order to be able to forgive Serena–for her own survival.

Maybe I give Serena way too much credit. That’s possible. She’s still an awful terrible person, but there may be a tiny sliver of humanity in there somewhere.

So if we see more of that Serena who doesn’t resort to violence every time something doesn’t go her way, and we view her thru June’s eyes rather than our own, perhaps they can finagle some sort of not-completely-bonkers redemption arc. But it’ll be really difficult imo.

ANYWAY. 

Yes, I thought those moments at Serena’s door and then going to Fred was brilliant. Like, you can see that June knows EXACTLY what is going on with Serena, and how disappointed and annoyed she is that Serena folded so easily, and now June’s on her own again so she has to go protect herself and kneel to the king to save herself.

I have mixed feelings about the music box. It’s so… trivial and stupid and juvenile on the one hand. It’s very symbolic on the other, even June sees it. The girl in the box. And then, when you consider that Serena likely has very little she can give to June in terms of physical objects (since basically Wives had to throw away everything) so she gave her her childhood music box which she was likely saving for her imaginary daughter. If you take it that way, it is meaningful. But that’s just fanwank really. And, it locks. That may mean nothing, but it may mean something. June has literally nothing else of her own that has any sort of privacy but Serena gives her a box AND the key to lock it. 

Honestly, lol, when I first watched 2x08 and Serena is like, “I won’t forget your help”, I turned to my friend and was like, “Was that a threat?” Like you just can’t tell sometimes with Serena. I was relieved when it wasn’t in fact a threat lol.

I agree SO HARD about the flower/music box gift in 2x08 though. Like, c’mon. Firstly, bitch, you’re recycling gifts now? You’re just giving her BACK something you took away to punish her. And a flower, which will die. With all her connections, she easily could have given June something about Hannah, either a visit or a photo or a drawing or SOMETHING. This is something I still don’t get about Serena: why she is SO FUCKING OPPOSED to letting June have anything to do with Hannah? Maybe you have a theory? It’s one of those things I don’t get. Is it cos she’s jealous June has a child and she doesn’t? Is it just a power play thing? WHAT THE HELL IS HER PROBLEM WITH JUNE AND HANNAH? Like, she easily could have June eating out of her hand if she arranged a visit(or two) with Hannah. Instead, she throws temper tantrums any time June brings up Hannah. IDGI. Sigh.

And yeah, if you really want to show June your gratitude, it takes more than a fucking child’s toy. And ITA. The saddest part was how happy June was just to have that box. She was literally hugging it like a child and it broke my heart. Like, that’s what she’s been reduced to by Gilead, and the Waterfords. 

(Side note: I feel like June is one of the worst treated Handmaids on a daily basis? Like, sure, Naomi doesn’t like Janine but they have a much nicer house, gorgeous room, she gets ice-cream, etc. Janine fucking BIT Naomi to the point she bled, and she doesn’t appear to be punished for it at all! Can you imagine if June bit Serena? All hell would break loose. There’s that Wife that feels for Emily and tries not to do Ceremonies, and she plays with the dog and stuff. And I don’t know how bad/good it was for Lilly, but she said she preferred it over her previous life. Meanwhile June’s trapped in the dark, musty attic and Serena insists on making her life extra-miserable every chance she gets, including not even allowing June to wean Nicole (intentionally).)

And despite that, June is still like, “Well, Serena deserves my kindness.” WHAT. June is a much better person than I would be. Then again, I can’t help thinking at least in the finale, that June felt a little guilt. Serena never would have lost a finger if she hadn’t pushed her to do it. BUT THAT’S MOTHERHOOD. Sacrifice not for yourself (like Serena does), but yourself for your children. I read some interview where the showrunners were saying the main line through S2 was June teaching Serena how to be a mother. And that really didn’t make sense to me for a while. And it really solidified June’s pure, unabated hatred for Fred. As if slapping him wasn’t hint enough, she leaves Serena’s room after comforting her, and confronts Fred about it. If I was Fred, I’d be even more concerned then than when I found the rose tbh. If June is willing to come after Fred directly after he had his own wife maimed, in defense of said wife, that’s some bond right there. But then, June doesn’t seem to give a fuck about Fred at all and isn’t scared of him at all. Which, is smart in a way, cos he’s so grossly obsessed with her that she can get away with virtually anything. 

“There’s the codependency (fuck you Fred), the intellectual compatibility (writer/editor), the fact they’re both victims of Gilead now and that they both didn’t try to burst their own personal bubbles when it mattered (pre-Gilead).“

OMG. OMG. OMG. YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SOMEONE SAYS IT!!!

That last bit is something I sort of keep to myself cos like criticising June isn’t on my list of fav things to do but I thought the show was trying to make it REALLY clear that June was pretty late to the party when it comes to Gilead. Like, she had so many warning signs, even Moira was calling shit out, and she just sort of went along with the Gilead prep. Holly (a lot) and Moira (to some degree) were both like “WAKE UP!” But June and Luke just la-dee-da’ed around like “Oh it’s not that bad.” There’s the bathtub analogy and she even comments on how nobody really paid proper attention when it was building. So, at least she knows. 

I’m not hating ofc. I think almost everybody would behave the same. You see it already in some places. So, I’m not saying June is terrible for not doing more and it’s easy for us to say, “OMG. If that shit started here I’d be outta America so quickly!” But, at the end of the day, most people just sit by and watch.

But I mean insinuating in any way that June deserves what she got gets the wrath of Hell. Not that I am saying that! Nobody deserves what those women get but it’s important to think critically about these characters and if June recognises she was idle until it was too late, I think as viewers we should be able to say the same. Without it being taken as victim blaming, which I am very much NOT doing.

Also, as an aside, I understand how problematic it can be to suggest that June’s forgiveness of Serena is the desirable outcome cos IRL I think forgiving abusers is a very dangerous path to go down. It never ends well. (Although I am also someone who counts restorative justice as a viable option for some crimes. I studied it for a term in uni and it’s not something I can discount. I don’t think punitive/retributive justice is always the answer. Note: I’m talking about Serena’s crimes against June specifically here; her other wider crimes require something stronger than a healing circle lol.) The only thing I can think of is the entire environment of Gilead is so different that perhaps if you remove environment, people can change. It’s a very dangerous game to play and I certainly wouldn’t suggest this to anybody in the real world... I just, I want Serena to get some sort of redemption--and I don’t mean “happy ending”. Just something... else. And I am not opposed in the THT universe to June forgiving her. Simply cos there’s a bit in the book (IIRC) about forgiveness being true power and it seems like the idea the show is playing with. It’s something I remember from my childhood indoctrination at church as well, this whole “forgiveness is power!” mantra. I’m not sure I buy it. (I think it could be freedom, but I dunno. I’m no theologian or philosopher.) Ah. I’m conflicted.

“Damn, I could go and on about this toxic yet fascinating duo, but I’ll restrain myself. “

PLEASE DO NOT RESTRAIN YOURSELF. IMO they are indeed the most toxic yet fascinating pair on the show and I could read your thoughts about them forever. Not to mention, I feel like the actors have really good chemistry and play off each other exceptionally well. Again, I can’t recall the exact interview but I think it was Yvonne talking about the process and she and Moss really walk thru it and figure out everything. All that work shows. Honestly, this cast is strong. Like I can think of 6 of them that are excellent, a few that are pretty good, and then some blahs (no names mentioned lol). Ann Dowd totally deserved that Emmy for S1 and I honestly, I know I’m completely biased and all, but Yvonne’s S2 performance was stronger than Ann, AND everyone else in that category tbh. So nuanced.

#rants and raves #Anonymous

[honestlyscreeching]

Things I have learned about being with a commitment-phobe.

        Let me preface- this is not a story about my current significant other. At this point in time, I’m about to marry my high school sweetheart and everything is going swimmingly. This is a story about someone that I had rescued from Canada, their name shall be Finn for anonymity reasons. 

Finn and I always had a tumultuous relationship. It seemed like every week we had the highest of highs- which were followed immediately by the lowest of lows. As nerdy as it sounds, we met on a game which had been popular at the time called: “Gmod”. Thus started a series of cheating on eachother, screaming matches, and blocking/unblocking eachother every week. One thing I can say is that our fights now at least make sense; back then they consisted of two very immature people each trying to get their own way. 

And then I asked him to move to Michigan which in hindsight- was a terrible idea. Why did I move this random man to my hometown to live with me? His mother is schizophrenic and wouldn’t allow him to leave the house. This man is two years older than I am, and he wasn’t allowed to leave the house. Let that sink in.

At this time, I was dating somebody who I was embarrassed to be around and to be honest- I used to get over my ex. Not proud of that fact, but its the truth. This is where things start getting fucky. Sometime in April(?) of 2016, Finn came to live with me. The weeks leading up to this day, I had moved out of my boyfriends apartment to find a place for Finn and I. The reason that this was okay with him was that the apartment I was staying in was crowded with other roommates, and I was not a leaseholder. 

So the day arrives, I have to pick Finn up from the airport, so I pack up my shitty 2003 Pontiac Vibe and take my happy ass to Detroit Metro. When Finn and I saw eachother for the first time, I knew that we were going to be inseparable. After we had met up, we stayed the night at my cousin’s place in Lansing. That whole night we toured downtown East Lansing, held hands, laughed, and drank copious amounts of liquor. Thing I learned number 1: commitment-phobes love to pressure you for sex. Finn at the time was a virgin. Now not all virgins are super pushy and want to plead to you for sex, but Finn was. The more drunk we had gotten, the pushier he would be. 

Finn: I really want to have sex, we don’t have to tell your boyfriend

Me: No

Finn: Okay well lets just drink more... Can I just kiss you?

Me: No

Everything after that I don’t remember. But I do know for a fact we had sex as the next day we had woken up next to eachother naked.

Fast forward some time, Finn and I had stopped talking because we both did some fucked up shit. Lesson number two: If you cut off contact with a toxic person, it probably isn’t a good idea to bring them back into your life.

Lesson number 3: If he is prioritizing his friends over being with you, he probably isn’t that into you. 

Lesson number 4: If he hides the fact that you are talking or have some sort of friendship to his other friends, he doesn’t actually want you in his life. 

These are all very important points for the next segment. Finn and I reconnected, I think I showed him a meme (I’m an idiot) and he had begged (not really begged, it didn’t take much convincing) me to hang out with him. Of course, I gave in because the rose colored glasses were on and I thought that maybe he had changed. Surprise surprise, I was wrong.  

After awhile of being just friends, I had realized that I was in love with Finn. Which really fucking sucked because he wanted nothing to do with me. The thing that makes this really ironic is that at the beginning of the relationship, Finn warned me that he doesn’t like relationships/didn’t actually want to be with me. My dumbass thought that “Oh I’m different, we were made to be together”. Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Lesson 5: If he states that he doesn't want to be with anyone and you begin a relationship anyways, don’t be surprised when he doesn't want to be with you.

I wasn’t special to him. I don’t think that I’ve ever been special to him. Which, he warned me so I guess it was just divine retribution coming to bite me in the ass. Finn and I had a somewhat functioning relationship. It was a lot healthier than it had ever been, I will say that. But Finn and I are two very different people when it comes to how we love, interact, and show empathy. 

Lesson 6: If you are an empath and the person you are dating is a narcissist, chances are things will not work out in your favor.

I’ve known my fair share of narcissists. My father being one of them. So dealing with people that constantly think about themselves is kind of my forte. 

Finn always put his needs/wants before my own. In a relationship ideally you give, and you take. Most of the time I feel like Finn used me for whatever he needed me for (sex, company, someone to listen, etc.) and then I’m useless to him. Its like a never ending roller-coaster of trying to guess whether or not I’m useful to him that day. 

From day one, the relationship was kept by his standards and rules. We were both allowed to sleep with whoever we wanted, we could do whatever we wanted, but at the end of the day (or week since he usually only wanted to see me once a week) we belonged to eachother romantically. As I grew more attached to Finn, I had expressed my desire for more serious commitment. 

“But I like what we have”

Lesson 7: If he tells you that he likes what you currently have, he has no intention of ever committing to you longterm.

Everyday I felt like a sidechick. Just another girl that he occasionally sleeps with. At this point he refused to say that he loved me, he refused to say that we were in a relationship, and he refused to change his ways. But I stayed. I stayed because I loved him more than he could possibly ever understand. 

Annnnnddd then he tried DMT. 

I know, kind of a curveball. 

The nature of our relationship changed dramatically after Finn had tried DMT. Albeit after three sessions, but still. He said that he loved me while he was in a drug induced psychosis. Out of the entire time Finn and I had been together, I think this is the only genuine moment where I could feel that he cared. Maybe the DMT had made it so that I knew some part of him was telling the truth? Who knows. All I know is that after this, things were good for awhile. We almost never fought, which was a stark contrast to how things used to be. Everything was good. He started saying I love you more, we started going on dates, it felt like we were in a real relationship. 

But all good things come to an end.

Lesson 8: If you tell them to stop hanging out with a girl that they had slept with in the past and they do it anyways, they don’t respect your feelings or your relationship.

Things started going downhill after we had tripped together at a concert. While I felt very connected to him, he felt very distant from me. After we had gotten back, he had been acting strangely. Generally, Finn is always an irritable person. But you have to understand we went from wanting and loving eachother to all of a sudden almost no contact, and when there was contact it went sour. Thinking I did something wrong, I brought him a pizza to try and make up for whatever I had done. Was I too pushy with my affection? Was I being bitchy? Did I do something wrong? What did I do? 

And then he told me that he had two girls over, one of which he had a previous “affair” with. 

So why is this an issue if we had an “open” relationship?

At this point in the relationship I had expressed that I wanted him to be monogamous for a time until he could prove to me that he wasn't going to leave or go behind my back.This woman was married and with two kids, which I also found a huge problem with (the husband was unaware of her infidelity).

All night I begged and pleaded for him to just go home, just leave, she wants to sleep with you and you know she does. So what does he do? He got drunk at the bar with her and took her back home.

Lesson 9: Getting cheated on really, really, REALLY hurts.

For weeks I tried to cope with the betrayal. I could physically feel the emotional pain. Off and on I would go into hysterics and throw up as a result. I stopped eating, I stopped caring, I even skipped a semester of college. 

Why did I love someone that continued to hurt me?

Lesson 10: He will only want you if you threaten to leave.

Over that time, Finn and I debated back and forth about the prospects of staying together or not. It was absolute hell. Being on the ropes about whether or not someone wants to be with you and having no sense of security put you in a spot where you’re constantly preparing for that person to leave your life. Finn never asked me to hang out, he never tried to atone for his mistakes, most of the time he just yelled at me or treated me like an annoyance. Until I started actively trying to leave him.

Lesson 11: If you’re going to leave, LEAVE. DO NOT respond. Use your willpower, stick to your guns, remember all the toxic things that he would do to you.

I was a dummy. I didn’t leave. I refused to leave. Failure was never an option in my eyes. By leaving, it meant that I had failed him. I promised to always be there, come hell or high water and I had no intention to ever break that promise despite how much pain that I was in. 

So- Finn and I still yell at eachother back and forth to this day. We’re great friends but he is a terrible lover. Over time, I slowly just started to realize that Finn would never love me the way that I loved him. 

Which brings me to my next point, acceptance.

Lesson 12: Accept that the situation is pointless.

Arguing back and forth will not solve anything. Repetitive reinforcement, proof of change, a caring attitude are all things that will solve the problem. If you genuinely love your commitment-phobe and you want to make things work, it will take a lot of trust exercises and communication. Now if your partner is anything like Finn, they will NOT want to communicate with you. At what point do you call it quits? If they are unwilling to cooperate, unwilling to communicate, and unwilling to make a change in the relationship then what can be done?

Long of the short is, do what you feel in your heart is right. If your head wants them and misses them but you know deep down in your gut that something is wrong, always follow your gut feeling. Don’t try to make it work with someone who is unwilling to make it work with you.

[del-co-mrade-blog]

I’m sure at some point I’ll try to morph this blog into something with a theme - maybe communism/activism, maybe aesthetics, I don’t know. Right now I kind of need an outlet, so I guess that’s what it’ll be. I only have two followers, and one of them is my boyfriend, so I guess you two can enjoy the ramblings I’m gonna post here for a while. This tumblr was made because I wasn’t allowed to have one, so I guess I’ll run with the theme of doing things I didn’t think I could do, and actually try to process and be open about my feelings without bombarding one person with them. So, if you’re here for some reason, I guess read on. 

If you’ve made it this far, hi. 

I don’t know what I’m gonna write about in the future but since this is my first post I guess I’ll just go for what’s on my mind.

I’m really sad rn. A bit ago I reconnected with an old friend. Things didn’t end well between us in the past, due to my past relationship and drama in that friend group, but since I’ve grown and some time had passed, we ended up getting along a lot better than I had originally expected. We reconnected to talk about my ex, who was her friend, and who was a really shitty, abusive person, from whom I have plenty of mental and emotional scars (I’m sure I’ll go on about him sometime in the future). We talked about him, and she seemed to agree that he was toxic, and we ended up talking about a lot of other things, and eventually having semi-consistent contact via snapchat/other social media. 

That was so great. I felt like I finally had the friend that I felt I never quite had back in the day, since I think we were both in different places in our lives, and I for one wasn’t able to be honest or genuine with anyone at that point. I had always heard about what an amazing friend she was, especially from my boyfriend, so it was really nice to experience what he was talking about, and be able to connect with someone in the way that we did. 

Fun shit, though, her boyfriend of many years hates me. Not to get into that too much at this point, but there is a mutual disdain between us due to things that happened following my breakup with my ex and the beginning of my relationship with my new boyfriend. He resents me (supposedly) for being shitty to my ex (lmao), ripping my current boyfriend out of his life (which my bf doesn’t regret sooo), and I guess just generally being .... idek to be honest haha. I’m not a huge fan of him for being a horrible friend to me and pretty much anyone else I’ve ever witnessed him be friends with, in my opinion a bad boyfriend, and p much the opposite of someone I’d want to have anything to do with at this point in my life. Oh yeah and sexual assault, but that’s nothing compared to what my ex did I guess. 

Side note, I wanna point out a little lesser known irony. While in a relationship with my ex, I was dead inside to the point of intense suicidal ideation. I was extremely depressed and had endured so much abuse on so many levels, I didn’t know how to get out or what to do. One aspect of our relationship is he had spend over a year convincing me to be okay with “polyamory” (aka he wanted to fuck multiple “flavors” (races) of women while dating me). Eventually, with his knowledge, I started a relationship with a mutual friend (my current bf), which began 3 months of confusion wherein I fell in love with one guy while realizing how horrible my past relationship had been. There was a lot of back and forth, since I was scared of leaving the relationship I had been stuck in for so long, but eventually I left and am now dating my wonderful boyfriend. Here’s where the irony comes in. Both my ex and my friend’s ex (from above) resented me for what happened. Thought I was a cheater, a bad girlfriend, whatever. Here’s the tea. 

My friend’s bf actively pursued me without my ex bf’s permission for a bit. Even while sitting in the same room, he made me feel him up and kissed my neck - not even 6 inches from my bf at the time. When my bf would step out of the room, my friend’s bf came over and tried to kiss me - when I dodged, he turned the lights out and tried again. He liked being physical with me - said it was bc he was on a break with his gf and wanted to touch someone - but did all of that behind my ex’s back. Same ex he was pissed that I “cheated on”, even though that situation was with his permission and much more above ground. It was about a week or so later he sexually assaulted me, jumped on me shirtless and shoved his tongue down my throat after cornering me in the basement alone. (My bf’s takeaway of all of this, after telling him I was kissed and touched against my will? “I wish he would have asked my permission first”.)

Tea #2: After breaking up with my ex, I tried to stay friends with him because I hated myself so much for “hurting him” (no regrets now, tho). I was so apologetic and just wanted him to forgive me, so I was quite a yes man for a while and didn’t want to cause any more waves in our friend group (that didn’t go so well tho haha). To jump to the chase, about 2 or so months after we broke up, he started telling me about who he was interested in. LO AND BEHOLD, it’s this same friend that I just reconnected with, whose bf sexually assaulted me. He talked about how he wanted them to break up, how he thought about her sexually all the time, how he had fantasies about fucking her in an elementary school (how didn’t i see he was a pedo at that point?), all kinds of stuff. He was trying to find out shit about their relationship in the hopes that they’d break up and he could date her. Told me about how he was talking to her at night and trying to find out her kinks and prove to her that he had the same ones so maybe she’d like him. All kind of shit. In retrospect, maybe I should have said something. Ironic that he was actually trying to do what people claimed had happened between the three of us during the breakup. 

The summary of this is: my friend’s bf always had a problem with me since the breakup since I was a “cheater”, and my bf “stole me away” or something. Meanwhile, he was doing the same thing behind my ex boyfriend’s back about 9 months before, AND my ex was doing the SAME THING to him the fuckin second he was single. They’re both shitty, inconsistent people, and I will never have a single good thing to say about either til the day I die.

Getting back on track. My friend’s bf hates me, and since he found out we were talking again, he apparently had a big problem with that. I don’t know many details, but apparently he was v upset with her about it and felt like she was betraying him (I won’t even begin with the levels of irony here). The two of us kept talking for a while, but I knew it bothered her that she was being dishonest with him. One night recently she opened up to me about something going on in their relationship that involved her bf secretly texting his ex behind her back, and one thing led to another and he managed to blame it on her talking to me (fuckin snake). As I have been since we started talking again, I wanted to be supportive of her, and I stand by that because she deserves to know what healthy respect and boundaries look like from someone, but it led to her deciding that she wanted to try to make it work with him, and that we shouldn’t talk anymore.

That’s been it for the most part since then. I’ve checked her social media a few times since (even though we had to disconnect on p much everything) and I’ve refrained from liking any of her posts, even though I’ve wished I could. It sucks because I can tell she’s going through some shit still, or at least was as of a bit ago, but I can’t ask if she’s okay, reach out to her, be a support system - be a fucking friend.

And this is what led me to start typing here as an outlet. We had a tiny bit of contact today, which I felt and feel guilty about since I really don’t want to stress her out or get her into any trouble. I was just reading an article about abusive relationships and “trauma bonding”, which is something that happens in an abuse victim’s brain that makes staying in their abusive relationship almost addicting, making it very hard to leave or see the situation clearly. I read it and very closely identified it, but also read it and saw a lot of things that made me worried for my friend. See, I know her boyfriend. We were friends for a while and I watched him be shitty to other people, and shitty to me, and honestly shitty to her for a long time. He’s not a good person. He reminds me so much of my ex it makes me sick, and especially makes me sick to know that she’s in that relationship and doesn’t feel like she can/should leave. Everyone has known it since high school - she’s better than she thinks, and deserves more. He has never treated her right for longer than it takes to get back into a relationship with her. That’s not to say there aren’t good things he does - all abusers give you something to hold onto so you can rationalize staying. I’m sure he does, my ex did, all shitty boyfriend and abusers do. I read that article and got really sad and really scared for her.

She told me that she doesn’t know how much she’ll let him hurt her. I have the same fear. I let my ex hurt me for so long, and would have let him do it to this day if my current boyfriend hadn’t gotten involved. I know she wants to make it work, but what I don’t think she understands, and I didn’t want to tell her out of respect, and it’s not her problem. 

There is nothing she can do, or should do, to make it work. All she can do is push down how she feels and make excuses in order to maintain an unhealthy relationship. She idealizes who he was in the past, yet admits he wasn’t good to people in the past. She says he wants to get better, yet all I’ve ever heard is that he apologizes and repeats the patterns. She says he is sorry for the things he’s done and wants to make them right, but I know several people he has wronged, and never seen him do anything to make it up to them. He says what he needs to say, and since he’s good at being manipulative, it works. And I don’t blame her. I don’t think she’s stupid. I don’t think a single negative thing of her. I was there, I know how it is. They’re really fucking convincing and can make even the worst things seem okay, turn anything into your fault, or take the blame and yet avoid blame altogether. 

I don’t know what to do. I can’t sit here and watch someone go through what I did. In retrospect I would have wanted someone to get me out, even if it hurt (in fact, my bf did, and I will be forever grateful). I want to help her live her life in a way I bet she doesn’t think is possible. Live truthfully. Surround herself with supportive people. Find someone who truly truly loves her and respects her. Have total control of her body and mind. Be fucking truly happy for more than hours or days at a time. SHE CAN DO IT. I fucking know she can. If she believes that she’s worth it and she wants what’s best for herself, she’ll leave. I wouldn’t say it to her before, but I spend a lot of time studying abusive relationships both because of my past and because of my field of study. She isn’t in a healthy relationship. He’s not good for her. It’s never going to get better. It’s not her fault.

So many people care about her and will be there for her (hopefully) when she decides to leave him. We will all support her and help her be her best self. She won’t be lonely, there’s always someone to talk to, usually someone to hang out with. 

God I wish things weren’t how they were. I want to respect her boundaries, but equally I want to help her get through this and be in a better place.

What the fuck do I do.

#p

[kkelseyyann]

Today is my birthday. 3/14/2017 My 26th birthday. I can’t say I have been too thrilled about it coming this year. It’s a birthday that has been a lingering stress since probably a month after 25. I’ve been dreading what it brings for almost a year.

The funny thing is 25 was actually the year I totally had a real quarter life crisis. It seriously happened. I quit a job with no plan. I left the country. I moved. I got a dog. I lost a relationship. I lost a dog. I cried. I cried a LOT. I continued living my life every single day not knowing what I am, who I wanted to be, how I wanted to spend it and with who!? I mean let’s be honest I have been living my life pretty much out of my car not knowing which house I was going to sleep at or if I had the right clothes for whichever job I was working the next day. Haha my life is a constant sleepover with all my friends. What am I doing?

But it came. I am TWENTY SIX years old. I am officially closer to age 30 than I am 20. GROSS. To anyone older than me reading this I apologize but, you know the thought of being thirty freaked you out just the same. You’re also the ones who still consider me, young. I am “living the best years of my life.” You say that and I cringe. The best years of my life? This year freakin SUCKED! I feel like I’ve been swimming trying to keep my head above water for far, far too long. Make it stopppp, now. Thats truly how I’ve felt. Completely lost.

I woke up this morning 26. I woke up in the room I have had at my parents house since high school. I didn’t wake up here because I stayed the night for dinner and birthday cake. I woke up here because I LIVE here. I lay here reflecting about 25. Initially it starts with a bitterness towards myself. Excuse me, but all I can think is, what in the actual fuck Kelsey. Today I am officially kicked off my parents health insurance. Today I am officially an independent. Today I am an adult.

I am NOT ready. I am scared. I’m mad. Mad at myself for letting this happen. Questioning my past decisions. Why didn’t I go back to grad school for my masters. Why didn’t I pick a degree that would have guaranteed me a great paying job right out of college. One that gave me a consistent schedule and financial stability. Why did I do this to myself? I wanted to be successful, that’s who I was supposed to be. Not this.

But really, what are we s u p p o s s e d to be? What does that really mean? Because, once that storm in my head is over I realize that I don’t think there is a set definition for anyone. We create these expectations in our own minds. The reality is this “safe” vision of what I’m supposed to be is not at all what I need in life to be genuinely happy. It’s what society, even my own parents made me believe I am supposed to do.

I have realized my new definition of success. It is probably a lot different than many of yours. Let me begin telling you it doesn’t start with spending every day at work putting a third of my paycheck into a 401k. I know I’m “supposed to” but I’m not. That is what we need to realize. We don’t all have the same “AMERICAN DREAM” I recognize that I don’t think I fit that mold. That doesn’t make me out of control. That doesn’t mean I’m doing it wrong. In the calm of my mind- I’m doing it right. I’m living for the now.

This new me is chasing things I would never have imagined years ago. I’m living on a whim every single day, making intuitive decisions, of course some bad decision driven by impulse- but living and loving them while they happen. I truly enjoy playing with fire. Sure, I have consequences later. But, I live through them every single time. I make another choice and I go in the next direction. I’m living through every single day not knowing what’s going to come at me tomorrow. I dreaded this tomorrow for a year. This day. This birthday. Where everything became real. Not having health insurance and having to figure out how to do that without having some big prestigious job. But, I fixed it. 26 and life goes on! Can you believe it? My world didn’t end today!

I’m 26 today. I am supposed to be a grown up today by societies definition. But, I am a lot more than just that. I may not know what I am doing. I might not make as much money as you, or have my own mortgage payment yet. I might not have a fat 401k waiting for me when I’m 70 (who knows if we will all get there for it!) I’m not still in school getting a masters degree. But, I live my life. I understand people. I am a great friend. I value relationships and experiences over tangible things. I don’t carry a Lou Vuitton cross body, but my best friends and I still have a damn good time shopping together with our target pleathers. I can take time to communicate. I am confident I will be a great mom because I’ve had the time to learn. I can define my strengths, and my weaknesses. I am in tune with the idea that money doesn’t make happy- depth and relationships do. I hate corporate America yet, I can think like a business women. I am going to be rich in relationships and create my own successes. I know myself well enough to do so.

Now I’m not saying that those things aren’t important. I haven’t fallen that far off to not realize I need money to survive. I also don’t want to have to work until the day I die either. I know savings is important. Having security is important and that it takes hard work to get there. I can’t be a gypsy all my life and expect to support a family. The realist in me exists (don’t worry Dad!) I just also know at the end of my life what will matter most to me. It’s pretty hard to know exactly who you are when you’ve only lived 25 years! What I am saying is that is important to slow down and enjoy the uncertainty. Not ruin it by stressing, or living on autopilot. You will open your eyes one day and be 45! Those things we think we need now will come. There are new opportunities every single day. But do you know yourself well enough to take them?

In thinking and stressing about our tomorrows we destroy our today’s. Without a today, there is no future. My future will be filled with my successes. People I love, experiences and memories I can cherish and speak about over hot coffee. I will be surrounded by people I love. I will live each day doing things I enjoy- not dreading the days, living for a retirement spent alone because my younger years were spent making paychecks not celebrating moments; celebrating life.

I refuse to be lost in a world of work. Of course my work will always be a part of my life- just not every dimension of it. I could go start working a job tomorrow and make 70k a year. I know I can because I have done that. But, I don’t WANT that. So thank you to the people older than I am telling me I am living “the best years of my life.” In telling me this, you’re also telling me you wish you did things different. You might not be happy even though your successful in terms of monetary definition, because that is all you have. My own Dad told me last night he wished he lived a little more during this period. Not assuming he had to figure it all out NOW. In hearing this I realize it is all okayyyy. Our elders wish they explored, made mistakes, and just FELT things. They created this path, they set that standard for everything we are “supposed to be” at this stage in our lives. But they are the ones wishing they hadn’t!

So here’s to 26. Creating my own path. Defining my own success. Being my own person. Doing anything and everything that makes me happy with all the humans that dance alongside my soul. A life of insecurity- a life that is free. Carrying a revolution within me- each moment bringing a new world, a new choice. Realizing I have all the time to become whoever and whatever I am -not “supposed to be” but, who I WANT to be.

#birthday #growing #growingup #inspiration #milennials #pathway #life #meditation #growth #journey