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Do you still take requests?
Hey!
I doo
There is a good 60% chance I’ll write it rn because I’m on uni break still :)
I’m sort of toxic tho so I do have a backlog of 40 requests I’m ignoring boldly 💀💀
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i was the m/f/m anon and omg.... bestie the creative direction you went in??? hotter than i could have anticipated
bestie! this is so late but I genuinely missed this between all the requests and stufff You are amazing for requesting that btw!! Slay. If you ever want anything else reach out to me or leave another ask :)
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Heyy can I request Marc having an argument and when it gets too much he just leaves the reader????
This is MONTHS if not YEARS too late... but hey! Heyy,,, 👀
Word count: 3, 028 Warning: THIS WAS NOT EDITED OR RE-READ general descriptions of trauma reactions, yelling, and separation anxiety.
It started off as small things. Steven’s coffee not tasting right in the morning, then his coat still being left in the pile of laundry waiting in the bathroom smelling of cheap wine that you, his girlfriend, had spilt on him the night before. He had accepted that with a sigh and harsh frown on his face. But it was Steven, and he could never be mad at you, and it wasn't your fault, he knew that. 
Then, he was late to work. The buses had been caught up and were all late by 10 minutes because of some major accident on a highway nearby. That had bothered him slightly, his nails picking into his skin with anxiety at the idea of his boss lecturing him about being late. 
It continued later into the day when he left work only to walk out into a sudden downpour of rain that had seemed to wait until he took his first step out of the building. He had, as Steven always did, sighed and continued to trudge along. He had waited, shivering and tapping the side of his phone in anxiety, at the bus stop that provided only the illusion of cover from the continuing storm. Though, the weather was barely registering to his body anymore. 
His focus had become entirely concentrated on the phone glaring bright light back into his face. His hair hung around his face as he hunched ver in the only mostly dry corner of the bus shelter, drops of water falling onto the screen and leaving behind trails of moisture when he brushed them away with his thumb. He had messaged you as he went into work that morning, now nearly 6 hours ago, and there was still no response. At first, he caught the aching pressure in his chest and eased it with the reassurance that you had also been at work. It had seemed plausible, at least until lunch. But now he was stepping onto the bus, the sputtering engine and uncomfortable chairs all agitating his brain further. He could feel Marc starting to press on the edges of his consciousness, prying the barely established walls of privacy they liked to pretend they could maintain. 
‘What is happening?” Marc’s rough accent whispered in his head and Steven, for the hundredth time that day, drew in a long breath and closed his eyes for just a moment. 
‘She isn’t responding’ he responded, his voice sounding noticeably weaker than Marc’s authoritarian tone. 
‘Is something wrong? Did you do something? Did she say anything when you left this morning?’ The onslaught of questions came with an unwelcome headache that Steven had begun to recognise as the early stages of dissociation dragging him away from the front. His hand came up to rub his temples, head hung still over his phone as he stared at the message he had sent you. 
‘Have a good day Love, thinking of you xx let me know if you want me to get us something for dinner of the way home? <3’ 
There was nothing wrong with that message he thought as Marc echoed the same sentiment with a few more choice words scattered through the phrase. It was always slightly amusing to Steven, even in this heart stoppingly anxious state, that Marc was often the more anxiously attached one in the relationship. At the start, Steven had assumed that he would be the needy desperate boyfriend. But, once he had introduced you to marc and the two of you had fallen in love as well, Steven began to feel the layers of fear that settled over Marc each time the smallest thing went wrong. 
‘Im sure she’s fine’ Steven whispered to himself out loud and clicked the phone as he slouched into his seat and let his head fall back. 
Marc scoffed and Steven felt the fog creep further towards his consciousness. He wanted to fight it, wanted to stay in the front and be the one to get home and make sure that you were ok. But at the same time, he felt his heart racing and veins threatening to burst with the rushing floods of cold adrenaline through his blood. So he blew out one final long sigh of air and let himself slip from his body entirely. For a second, he could feel Marc standing next to him as they passed through the fog at the same time, and then there was nothing. 
—-----
Marc felt himself settle into consciousness with a raging headache tearing at the sides of his head, and it took nearly the entire 20 minutes remaining of their bus trip for him to settle comfortably into the body again. It was always strange to see hair a little darker and curlier than your own on your body, to be a few inches shorter than you were supposed to be, and have only ⅔ of the muscle mass you always saw yourself with. But this time, as he jogged the three steps off of the bus, he barely felt the change in stature. His entire brain was focused on you, why you hadn't responded, what Steven had done, what could have gone wrong, who could have found you… 
He had it to the apartment door panting after having run up the three lights of stairs without so much as a second to breathe between floors. The door hit the wall as it swung dramatically open and he barrelled through. His thoughts were a mess, throwing wild theories at him so loud that Steven’s attempts at comfort had been drowned out and faded into nothing but an incoherent whisper that only added to the screaming noise in his head. 
“Hello?” He yelled. He wished it hadn’t, but his voice had wobble slightly when he spoke. 
“Hello?” He called again a second later when there was no response. He threw his bag onto the floor near the door and kicked it shut with a loud thud. His body was starting to prepare, starting to expect the fight he knew was coming, he knew that he would cause if you were so much as to respond in a snappy tone. But you didn’t. 
Instead you rounded the corner from the bedroom to the lounge room wearing only his shirt, a half eaten scoop of ice cream shoved into your mouth with the spoon still stuck there, the now empty tub in one hand, and you phone in the other. 
You met his eyes and confusion took over your body like a wave of shock. 
“Hey? What’s wrong why do you look so…” you started to say as you pulled the spoon from your mouth with your hand which held your phone. This action seemed to only upset him more, so you froze with the spoon held a few inches from your mouth. “What’s going on?” 
He seemed to huff a raging breath at the sound of your confused voice but it only deepened the confusion, your eyebrows creasing and teeth clamping the edge of your bottom lip. 
“Excuse me?” he grumbled and you understood from the accent and body language alone that this was entirely Marc. He was a hulking form in the entry way of the apartment and something in the back of your mind seemed to tingle with fear, but you pushed a concerned smile out instead and took a step towards him. 
“Hey, Marc,” you said softly, “please tell me what’s going on? Did something happe-” He cut you off before you could finished your question. 
“Well, I don’t know! Do I?” he was almost yelling, seeming to only restrain himself for the benefit of the neighbours pressed on either side. “Why don’t you enlighten me?” 
“I,” you went to start, but realised there was nothing to explain. You had been sat in bed all day with your eyes straining at your laptop screen as you finished entering data into archaically organised tables for work tomorrow. “Uh,” was the only sound you could produce after a few seconds. You were running through the possibilities, considering even that you had somehow done something to upset Steven this morning when he left for work moments before you had woken up. “I really don’t know?” 
“So you just ignored us all day for fun? Is that it then?” He shouted, hands balling into fists after he gestured wildly. His eyes were round and almost afraid, lined with what you knew were tears that he would never let fall. It broke your heart He took a step forward but his weight remained on his back foot, his entire body not shifting any closer but seeming to move automatically. He was almost poised like a wild animal, ready to strike or run at any second. 
“Ignoring you?” You said, pure confusion lacing every word. “Why would I ignore you? Babe, I’ve just been working all day. I was just,” you glanced at your hands and the spoon that still hovered mid air in front of you. “There was that final episode of that show Jake wanted me to watch, you know? So I was just watching that while I finished this ice cream and sent a couple emails.” You found yourself talking more and more, each word feeling somehow guilty despite being the complete truth. “Anyway,” you caught yourself, “can you please tell me what the HELL is going on? Why exactly are you claiming I ignored you?” 
He scoffed loudly the second you finished talking and a look of hurt flashed across your face. For a moment, you thought the might be enough for him to snap out of whatever was going on. But it barely seemed to register to him. 
“Our message?” he prompted, fishing his phone from his back pocket and pointing the to black screen as if it was obvious. “Steven’s message?” he pushed further, absolute disbelief filling his face. You shook your head slowly and glanced at the open phone screen in your hand. It was empty. No messages from today except for the few you had received from a friend about what birthday present she should get her cousin you’d never met. “My GOD. Do you even know what I’m talking about? Or are you that dismissive of us that you didn’t even realise there was a message to ignore in the first place?” 
You reeled back in shock. “Excuse me?” you said, echoing his angry tone from the start of the conversation. He seemed to realise, for just a second, how worked up he had become and his arms dropped back to his side and his foot shuffled back a step away from you. He gulped a breath of air down into his lungs but continued to glare at you with a level of hatred you had never seen before. 
“I don’t know what you think I do all day Marc, but it sure as hell is not sitting around waiting for a message. I have had No texts from any of you today! Thank you very much. AND,” you continued, voice rising to meet his volume, “if I had, I would have responded when I took a break for lunch!” 
You considered now, as your pulse began to race and cheeks started to flush red, that it had been strange to not receive anything from Steven throughout the day. Usually he was offering to pick up dinner when he knew how much work you had, or even just sending photos of cool new things h found online. Last week, it had been an article on a newly discovered temple sight from ancient Greece, and the week before that something about a tradition in ancient Egypt. It was all adorable to receive and the gushing message of facts that always accompanied them filled you with warmth, but you never really understood what the articles were talking about. 
You were shaking your head now, arms folding over your midsection as if to hold yourself up while your body felt as if it was rocking on a beat from the sudden rush of emotion. 
“I-” he stammered out, clearly still angry but beginning to understand how wild he sounded. The whites of his eyes were shining now in the dim light radiating from the stove light left on in the kitchen. It was as if he was, for the first time since he forced through the front door, realising exactly what was going on around him. You were standing there naked and confused, deep lines of shock and worry deepening between your eyebrows as you squinted at him. It was late and the sound of rain was still pattering softly outside. He gulped down the saliva he had forgotten to swallow in his guy as if he was trying to swallow everything he had just said. But his pulse still hammered with a force that felt as if his entire body was thumping with the rush. “But you-” he said, voice still loud and on edge. You tilted your head to the side as you watched him, waiting impatiently for whatever he was about to say. But he said nothing. Instead, he turned so fast that his hand shot out to grab the wall in fear of falling, and he shot out the door. 
The few seconds after it slammed behind him and you hear his footsteps thunder down the hall seemed to last an eternity. You heard the elevator down the hall ding at its arrival on your floor and then vanish back down to the street level only a few seconds later. 
Slowly, as if still afraid that he might burst back in and continue his screaming, you continued on your way to the kitchen. The ice cream tub tumbled onto the bench and drips splattered across the counter as they fell from the lid. 
You couldn’t understand what had just happened. Sure, Marc had been jealous before. Sure, he had come home in a panic only to realise you were curled up asleep on the couch or still engrossed in your work. But this time… He had barely waited for the door to close behind him when he came in before he started yelling. He had never yelled like that. It sounded like he was afraid, like he was truly scared that you had been ignoring him. That thought made you drive your teeth through your bottom lip until the familiar taste of blood filled your mouth. 
It took you a while after that to settle down again.The anxiety continued to bite at your mind as you skulked around the house slowly cleaning up small areas of clutter and dust before you collapsed on the couch. 
By the time you sat down, lip still caught between your teeth and stinging softly as you slid your teeth over it repetitively with anxiety, your phone was almost dead. Yet, with the last remaining 5%, you rang Marc over and over, begging internally that he would answer and come back home to you. You left worried message after worried message, each one going unread and un-responded to. 
It was maddening, not understanding what he had been on about, not being able to find any texts from him earlier that day despite his claims, not hearing from him now that he had stormed off and it was nearing 3 in the morning. 
—-
When you woke up the sun was streaming through the gaps in the curtains. Everything was quiet still and, as if the adrenaline from last night was still pumping through your veins, you shot up from your curled up position in the corner of the couch towards your phone that had landed on the floor. You pressed the power button frantically, looking around for any sign that he had come home last night but finding none. 
Your bones ached and cracked as you stood up completely, stretching as you took your first few steps towards the bedroom for your phone charger. There was nothing careful in any of your movements, each step was uncoordinated and rushed, your head was spinning from how last you had stood up and yet you had only one thought racing through your mind: where is Marc? 
You clicked the bedroom door open, letting it swing wide before your eyes landed on the bed. Your fingers grazed the door handle as you rushed to grab it, but it bumped the wall softly despite it. Before you was Marc curled into the corner of the bed, a pillow wrapped tightly in his arms as he slept on top of the covers. His hair was a mess and, at the end of the bed, was a pile of his stuff. His jacket still looked damp from the rain last night, and his shoes had left dirt all over the blankets.
You were frozen looking at him, scanning for any sign of injury or harm. But he just looked peaceful, a far cry from how he had looked last night. The tension in his jaw had faded and the deep frown that had taken over his expression was replaced with pure contentment. You wanted to be mad, wanted to wake him up and demand answers. But something in your heart couldn’t let you. Not when he looked so innocent, not when you knew that whatever had happened last night had stemmed from pure anxiety and fear, even if that fear had been completely irrational. 
Slowly, you crept closer to the bed, each step carefully placed on the floorboards that you knew wouldn’t creak loud enough to wake him. You sat gently on the bed next to him, legs curled under yourself as you bought a hand to the side of his face. His skin was smooth and, this up close, flushed slightly as if he had been crying the entire night. 
He stirred slightly from your touch, mumbling something under his breath wish a soft frown taking over his face once again. 
“It’s just me,” you whispered so quietly you thought he might not have heard you. But his body seemed to deflate again, melting back into the bed where he was sleeping.
(this is unfinished because i wanted to end it in fluff but I ran out of time)
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The only thing I care about…
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Death Note AU where hbomberguy makes a five hour long video about youtuber Light Yagami that's initially completely unrelated to the murders (Light would probably plagiarize or have really unhinged right-wing political takes if he was on youtube)
but halfway through he reveals that while researching he stumbled upon evidence that Light might be behind the Kira murders, and then spends like fourty minutes explaining the concept of a shinigami, an hour explaining how he thinks Light used one to commit murders, and then another hour explaining Light's ideology and why the concept of criminals being inherently evil is flawed
He finishes the video by addressing Light directly and telling him that he (Hbomberguy) had his name legally changed before uploading the video, to something that only he knows, making it impossible for Light to kill him
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i'll eat you up i love you so!
if you saw this on twt no you DIDNT
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I am unfortunately just like other guys. I like trashy horror, dog poems, cannibalism as a metaphor for obsessive devotion, religious imagery, people who use my name in a sentence, academic validation, lying for fun, being bisexual and bleeding out in the snow.
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Independent bookstores around the country have a particularly clever lifeline, one perfectly suited to the unprecedented moment we find ourselves in. The strange part? It came into being just weeks before the World Health Organization declared the coronavirus outbreak a pandemic, and before the bookstores started closing up shop wondering if they’d reopen at all.
The lifeline in question is called Bookshop. 
In simple terms, it’s a super clean, user-friendly online bookstore whose raison d’être is supporting independent bookstores — not simply with exposure or resources (though that’s certainly a factor), but with cold hard cash…
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"you don't know [insert popular tiktok trend]? you must live under a rock" Well i do. for your information i actually live in a thriving soil ecosystem complete with damp moss and various insects including pill bugs, beetles, and ants
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adding the entire userbase to a big discord server named 'tumblr 2.0' to solve no problems whatsoever and invent several new ones
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While Zepotha is failing miserably at creating a believable fake horror movie, the other side of TikTok decided to pretend the omegaverse is real by starting discourse surrounding scent blockers. And let me tell you, it's not only funny as shit but also everyone's so committed to the bit that the videos actually sound real for a second lol
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People on my dash were destielposting and my immediate thought was 'Oh I should double check that I'm registered to vote' my neural pathways are a lost cause
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hey, don't cry. one cup heavy whipping cream, two tablespoons granulated sugar, three tablespoons cocoa powder and whisk until stiff peaks form for three ingredient chocolate mousse, okay?
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