I'M A CRAZY WEIRDO AND I'M!!! CALLING YOU!!!
I'VE REALLY GOT NOTHING BETTER TO DO!!!!
I DIAL UP YOUR NUMBER AND I LET THE PHONE RING
AND TWO MINUTES LATER I'LL BE DOING IT AGAIN
YOU MIGHT THINK I'LL BE MOVING ALONG
BUT!! YOU!! WOULD!!! BE!! WRONG!!!!!!!!!!!
I'VE GOT NO LIFE AT ALL!!!
AND SO I'LL CONTINUE 2 CALL!!!
IM A CRAZY WEIRDO AND I'M CALLING YOUUUUUUUUU~!!!!!!!
21 notes
·
View notes
— ❛ are you wearing my shirt? ❜ @tragedyrich
oliver swallows, smile faltering into something forced when their conversation takes a sharp, angled turn.
"am i?" he says, tone modelled to appear disaffected. "i might be. sorry -- i was really hungover. i think -- i must've gotten them mixed up. mine, and yours." they had been awfully drunk the evening prior, drained from a long, long, night of hard liquor, cheaply rolled blunts passed around in a circle. and oliver had collapsed, safely, onto the floor of felix's dorm, a cushion and one of his hoodies utilized as a blanket.
he woke before the alarms went off, bleary-eyed, and mussed hair pointing in every possible direction. oliver lingered unmoving for awhile, willing his torturous hangover to prove itself sympathetic before drifting away. except it too, overstayed it's welcome, threatening him in waves of nausea, until oliver exhaled, roaming eyes falling to a crumpled shirt.
the makeshift blanket smelled like felix -- as did every other piece draped across his chair, stuffed messily into half-opened drawers. but this particular shirt, a colour blocked polo, already sweated through, drew an unmistakable arousal in him. the musk was potent, the scent of felix drained and warm circling the collar, and oliver -- without any resistance -- stripped himself of his own striped tee, replacing it in the swap.
he'd tucked his chin down, lifted the blue rim of felix's collar up over his nose, and inhaled.
oliver shuddered in the sigh that followed, mind in a frenzy as he took sharp breaths, hardly wary of the ways in which he wanted to suffocate. he'd predictably, gone half-hard in the process, eyes shut and blissful -- and then felix's alarm rang -- blaring like a siren. oliver jerked his head up, folding one arm over his stomach in partial covering (if not for the shirt itself, then for the stiffness between his crossed legs), nerves shot when even amidst a throbbing headache, felix clocked the details from the distance.
presently, he tries to offer him a wider smile, a joke, self-deprecating and light. "don't know how i fucked that up -- sleeves don't even fit me properly."
21 notes
·
View notes
@stuffandthangsandangelwings (Steve Harrington)
‘continued’ / next chapter from {X} ‘starcourt incident’
“Oh, my god, you didn’t just take notes dude, you organized, and annotated and bound it-” Robin rambled on from the back seat, whilst flipping through the book she’d insisted seeing proof of existence, after Steve’s telling of it. “You’ve seen The Evil Dead, right?”
Lauren rolled her eyes, reaching around from the passenger seat, took it back from her. “- Forgive me for wanting to keep track of all the batshit insanity."
“Writing it out, helps me grasp the information. - and making it pretty, gave me something to do with the rest of my summer, since, oh you know - a giant mind-controlling monster attacked and subsequently burnt down my place of employment.” She tucked it underneath the resumes she’d held in her lap; one belonging to herself, the other, her boyfriend, who was driving them around, to hopefully find a new job, given well.. what she’d just said.
“I’m just saying, if we start levitating and talking in tongues... burn that shit.” Robin said, continuing her reference to the horror movie genre.
94 notes
·
View notes
also every fucking 4 years idiots on here make dozens of posts about how if the Republicans win they're going to personally blame everyone who chose not to vote for Biden. if y'all put half this energy into helping the people who are actually trying to hold these war criminals accountable maybe we'd finally be in the position to have an election where no one has to use the fucking phrase "the lesser of two evils"
12 notes
·
View notes
Argh. If I hear one more character invoke the name of Byron with regards to the Eighth Doctor I won’t be responsible for my actions.
He doesn’t look like Byron - if anything Eight’s initial appearance has more shades of Oscar Wilde - and he certainly doesn’t behave like Bryon (thank God). I forget where it originated (possibly with the EDAs) but I can only assume that somewhere along the line the term ‘Byronic’ got confused with the man himself, or at least his appearance. Yes, Eight has the traits of a Byronic hero at times (brooding, melancholy, having a light and a dark side) but that’s a different thing entirely. Calling his younger self ‘Lord Byron’ purely because of the way he looks has become a lazy cliche that I wish would disappear because it’s not even remotely accurate.
12 notes
·
View notes