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#people again like to pretend they can Always Tell
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27 / 1.7k / spreading rumors about dating Gaz, part 2
⬇ nsfw; mention of revenge porn
...
Gaz doesn't negotiate. He doesn't back down. When the situation calls for it, he knows when it's time to escalate.
That's why he fucks you on your dining room table instead of a public bathroom. Partly because he's not a slag. The idea of you possibly agreeing to do it--of giving him the same ammunition you gave your ex to humiliate you--leaves a sour taste in his mouth. Even if you started rumors and risked his reputation.
A growl rises in his throat at the thought of your ex having the gall to send him that video of you. Christ. What on Earth did you see in him?
Partly, though, he wants to fuck you in your own house so that when he next sees your prat of an ex-boyfriend, he can properly rub it in that fucker's face that you invited him in on the first date.
Or maybe he'll take a picture of your panties in his teeth. He hasn't decided yet.
You're strung out with pleasure, your bare back against the table. You’re caught between wondering why he wanted to fuck you after all and letting every last reservation about it vanish into nothing. You’ve always wanted this. You never thought it would happen.
"Sergeant," you gasp out. "Is this-- what about your reputation--?"
"Don't start." His fingers trail the lines of your body, his eyes fixed on the parts of you he caught only blurry glimpses of in your ex's video. It didn't do you justice.
He wants to pretend there's nothing to this besides convenience--you did owe him. Hell, you wanted to sleep with him. You always made that crystal clear. Now he's just allowing himself to give in to baser impulses like a dog snatching up a rabbit thrown into its path.
But you're right. This will look bad if someone finds out. He should worried, but it's hard to care about that when the thing competing for his attention is the filthy way your pussy swallows him again and again, seeing how slick you leave the base of his cock.
He should've used a condom. He knows for a fact you knew he didn't and you said nothing. He'd tell you off for it now, too, but he's absolutely certain it would just make you cum. The nerve of you.
His hips stutter for a second before he can banish that thought from his mind. He shouldn't like the idea of you being that obsessed. Acting like you'd do anything he asked. Christ, work would be a nightmare if this got out. Him actually sleeping with you. But then again, he suddenly doesn't much like the idea of you finding a different rebound. You'd just be thinking of him anyway, right? Wouldn’t you?
Whatever. He’ll deal with the fallout later. When he's not enjoying your body.
“Who’s going to know?” he murmurs, eyes falling to your chest. “Let it go.”
“Mkay,” you sigh out. There's nothing more you want than to please him right now.
"You'd do anything I asked, wouldn't you." It's not a question. You both know it's true. And he likes that--he hates admitting it, but he does. His eyes drop to your pussy again, and his hips pick up their pace.
You've spent months flirting with him, teasing him about taking you to bed. Now you're getting everything you want. He's right. Why would you care one goddamn second about the consequences? “Anything.”
He hates how needy you sound when you say that. You're too trusting. He's taking advantage of you. Don't you get that?
His grip on your hips tightens, pushing into you more and more roughly. Your moans rise in pitch and he has to grit his teeth.
“Good." He says lowly. "Then you won't tell a soul about this, will you?"
"But--ah, ngh..." You bite your lip as he stops thrusting and grinds himself into you. You gyrate your hips, needing friction. "But people already think we're together."
“Do they? That’s a bold claim.” You're overestimating how many people believe silly rumors. Besides, it's hardly your concern anymore. He lays his palms flat on the table on either side of you, bracing himself. Your skin is so soft; your neck tempts him, but he restrains himself. "You're keeping your mouth shut from now on, yeah?"
You let out a sound of frustration as he slows even further. You try to push your hips harder against his. "Sergeant, please!"
"You want this, don't you?" His voice is chilled, but the heat in his eyes as he stares down at your bucking hips is hardly discouraging. "You'll want it again. You'll keep wanting it."
"Ugh, yes," you snap, squeezing your thighs fruitlessly around his toned waist.
"As long as you don't tell a soul about this, I’ll see to it that you get what you want," he growls. "Not your team, your friends, your stupid ex. No one."
You open your mouth to question him again, but he pulls away and snaps his hips hard into yours. Whatever you were about to say dissolves into a string of semi-coherent affirmations. Yes, you'll keep it quiet. Yes, you'll pretend none of this ever happened. Yes, you'll never use his name on base again. Anything he wants. Just don't stop.
"Good girl. Good girl..." Easy enough. Now that he knows how to get his way with you, you shouldn't be such a problem anymore. He can’t help but be a little greedy, though. "You're not going to fuck anyone else, either."
"Never!"
He grunts in approval. "And you'll never--and I mean never --try to get back with your ex. Understand? You'll stay away from him."
You writhe and plead, winding your arms around his shoulders. He grabs your wrists and pins them to the table, the muscles in his arms taut.
"Do. You. Understand?" His voice comes down on you like low thunder, all around you.
"Yes!"
"Good. I'll know if you do. Mm…" His breathing grows shallow. Your heat is impossibly tight, and tightening up even more. He squeezes your wrists. "You going to cum?"
"C-Can I?" you breathe out. "Please, can I cum?"
His hips stutter and he has to close his eyes for a moment. God, he's never been tested like this.
"Sergeant, please!"
"Cum," he says, the word short and sharp like gunfire. "Cum on my cock. Right now."
He presses his thumb to your clit and you wail, clenching around him like you haven't cum in weeks. Your body rolls, practically convulses, your head knocking against your dining table as you arch up. He lets out a snarl, not slowing down despite how painfully tight you squeeze him.
Once you come down from the high, his pace never slowing, your swollen core twitches and spasms with overstimulation. You cry out, but you make yourself stay in place. You want to keep making him feel good. You want to make him feel better than he ever has.
"Cum inside me," you pant out. "I-I'm on birth control. You can-- please--"
"You're a liar," he growls through clenched teeth even as he picks up his pace.
"I promise," you plead. Even if you're a liar, and you are, you're not lying about this. God, you want him to do it so bad you can feel yourself clench up again at the thought.
You're teetering on the edge of another orgasm when he pulls out, spilling his load across your chest and stomach instead.
You clench down on nothing, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction even as your orgasm ebbs out of reach. You let your head fall back onto the table, your breathing heavy. You don't see his eyes running over you, deliberating.
"Sergeant?"
"Mm?"
"Do you maybe want my phone number?" Almost seems like a silly question. He has your address now anyway.
"Hm." He pulls away, picking up your discarded purse from the mess of clothes on the floor. He pulls out your phone and opens your texts, types in his number, and sends himself a quick message. Then he finds your conversation with your ex-boyfriend. His eyes narrow. The last texts exchanged were earlier tonight. And you started it. You told him you were out to dinner with someone else. Just to get a rise out of your ex. It obviously worked.
That's okay, he figures, opening the menu and blocking your ex's number. If there's one person he does want to know about this, it's that arsehole. Maybe now he'll stay away from you.
You sit up. "Kyle?"
His eyes meet yours, steady and unwavering. "Yeah?"
"Were you serious?"
"I was."
"Even about coming over again?"
"I mean every word I say.” He hands your phone back to you and begins to get dressed.
You watch him, grasping the edge of the table. "When will you be back?"
"My squad leaves on assignment tomorrow. Don't know how long it'll be." He zips up and grabs his t-shirt. "I'll text you."
"Right, right." You suppress a sigh. "Always got a job to do."
He slings his coat over his shoulder, then pauses. He knows he shouldn't, but he can't help but reach his hand out to your cheek. He runs the back of his finger over your jawline. Then he disguises the tender gesture by gripping your chin and pulling it up so you're looking him in the eye.
"Behave," he tells you, voice low. "No sleeping around. No flirting of any kind. Is that clear?"
Your heart pounds. You swallow and nod.
"Good," he says, holding your gaze a moment longer.
As he leaves, closing the door behind him, he curses himself.
This is not a good idea. What's he trying to do, fix you? Stupid, stupid, stupid. This isn't going to end well. You're not good for him. But damn if he doesn't feel more satisfied than he has in years.
He has no choice. If he wants you to behave, he'll have to keep your eyes on him. Whether he’s on base or not.
...
part 1 / [part 2]
more Gaz / masterlist tag
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shmowder · 1 day
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In P1, it always felt like Artemy glossed over his father's death, like he didn't give much of a reaction nor act like someone would in a state of grief. You get more lines to address it in P2, more opportunities to reminisce about the past and Artemy's childhood. It feels like you go through the stages of grief with him. You watch him miss the dad he had whilst accepting his death. He kneels at the pit of mass graves with the thread in his pocket, witnessing the dead speak and his only question was if his dad can hear him one last time. A stark contrast to how cold-hearted he seemed to onlookers in P1.
It made me question if he even cared that his father had died, if it even mattered to Artemy. Sure he always has shown concern to who killed his father and diligence to fullfill his role as menkhu, but nothing beyond that. Nothing personal, as if he was using revenge as a distraction from facing his emotions.
Sometimes, in P1, you get lines like these.
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And it's sudden, abrupt, and completely takes you off guard from how out of tone it feels. How just the mention of his father has him suddenly getting agitated, ignoring the facts. Each time any character mentions Isidor and talks about him freely, Artemy gets the option to tell them to shut up and that they don't know what they're talking about, that they can't possibly understand. It can lock you out of quests.
In one conversation, you get that option 3 times in a row, and you have to avoid choosing it each time so you don't end the quest. Artemy actively has to stop himself from snapping at people left and right so he doesn't throw away all of the progress he has made.
A literal explosion of emotions after days of silence and going as business usual, pretending that nothing is out of the ordinary.
Mind you, that dialogue line above happens in the same conversation as this one below. So by that point, Artemy snapped at someone he considered a friend.
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Artemy is grieving, Artemy is distraught, and he doesn't know how to deal with these emotions in P1. So he supresses them, doesn't acknowledge the lines Isidor writes about wishing his son was by his side in his dairy, doesn't accept any condolences nor pity.
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He puts a facade of composure since he stepped foot off of that train, a mask of apathy so he doesn't appear weak to anyone in this town. He can't be Artemy the son, he needs to be Burakh the wise menkhu, the warden of kin, the healer his father diligently raised him to be.
He has no time to think about it, he needs to invent a cure, he needs to protect the children, he...needs his dad but that dad is gone.
In P2, he hasn't seen his father in 5 years, but in P1? 10. A decade came and went. How lonely it must have felt, how long the ride on the train back home must have been. How suffocating that anxiety of facing your family after a decade without contact, wondering if his farher would be proud of who he has become. That feeling that you're in trouble when a parent addresses you by your full name and urges you to come see them, it's like he was 10 years again. How could he have known that in the same night he'll come back home to being the last remaining Burakh in town.
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🗒꒰⸝⸝₊ Masochism Tango ❛ ✧
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Featuring: Gortash x Durge! Reader
Not proofread!
# Notes: cw for descriptions of violence and gortash being a freak. also as usual with my drabbles, no use of "y/n" and I try to describe the reader's dialogue and actions as little as possible
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He'd be lying if he said he didn't decide to throw a ball only for the slim possibility of them showing up.
They hated him. That much was obvious. He could see it in their eyes during the coronation — that burning wrath and bloodlust that always made him weak in the knees. He couldn't help but wonder what they were thinking of. Maybe slashing his throat open, only to lap up the blood with their tongue. He hoped so. He revels in their aggression, even when it's directed towards him. Especially when it is.
The first hour of the ball was excruciating — having to pretend he cared about whatever the rest of Baldur's Gate's bourgeoisie were yapping about while apprehensively looking around, searching for the only thing in the world that mattered to him at that moment.
Just when he was starting to lose hope, he spotted them in a corner. The sight alone almost made him groan. Gods, how could they look even more beautiful, all dolled up just to see him. Or so he hoped, at least. He had to fight back the urge to just shove everyone out of his way, to go over to them and...
The band began to play before he could finish his thoughts, and he took that as the perfect opportunity. He sauntered over with confidence and elegance, ignoring the other guests with his eyes focused solely on them. Their little friends were nowhere to be seen, either. Even better.
They seemed uncomfortable, restless even, their fingers twitching slightly. Probably aching for their blade, he thought, and a grin formed on his lips. It's been so long, but they haven't changed a bit. He reached out, gently wrapping his fingers around their wrist and pulling them towards him before they even noticed his presence to slim the chances of being rejected.
"Good evening, my dear. I was starting to think you wouldn't come. Care for a dance?" It was supposed to be a question, but he didn't make it sound like one. He knew they'd say no, so he had to make it clear they didn't have a choice — just the way they were looking at him right now made it clear they were currently fantasizing about bashing his head into his neck. He smirked at that, dragging them firmly but not forcefully with him towards the dance floor. He wanted them angry — wanted them to want to hurt him.
He placed a hand on their waist, the other intertwined with theirs as he waltzed with them to the soft ballad playing in the background. "I rather missed this, you know. You used to be a most splendid dance partner, my treasure." He whispered, gazing deeply into those beautiful, livid eyes of theirs that seemed to bewitch him all the same as they did in the past. He didn't tell them the exact nature of their old relationship, but it was very much implied. He knew they could put two and two together.
Losing them hadn't been as easy as he desperately tried to pretend it was. He tried to pretend it didn't bother him, that it was just business as usual, that his heart didn't ache at the thought of never seeing them again — but whatever happened between the two flourished into something much deeper than he'd care to admit. And then, just when things were going well, they vanished. Just like that. They vanished and left him behind, alone, with Orin of all bloody people supposed to replace them. As if she could even hold a candle to them.
He tried his best to lie to himself — it was a good thing they were gone. They were making him soft, weak. He couldn't afford any distractions. And he actually believed those lies for a while. You can convince your mind of almost anything if you repeat it enough times.
But no amount of self-inflicted dishonesty could help ignore the flutter in his chest when they walked into the coronation room. He was almost giddy — even while trying his best to act professional, anyone could see that if he had a tail, it would be wagging at that moment. But after confirming they had lost their memories, a rush of conflicting emotions washed over him. On one hand, they didn't remember him. Didn't remember what they shared together, didn't remember his touch. On the other, this was his chance to finally try again — to make things right. World domination be dammed, it's not worth ruling over without them to share the throne with him, and it took losing them to realize that. They left the coronation without giving him a clear answer to his proposition to kill Orin, and that was that.
But now they were here — in his arms once again. Well, technically not yet, not entirely at least, but it was just the beginning. And he wouldn't stop until they were his again, body, mind and soul.
A small cackle escaped him as they purposefully stepped harshly on his foot, clearly trying to confront him without causing a scene. "You look awfully tense, my dearest. Almost as if you want to dismember me. You'd rather like that, I wager." He mused, spinning them to the rhythm of the song before pulling them back against him. "If you managed to, I imagine it would be quite the spectacle. A thrill, really. But you can't live without your tyrant, can you?" He taunted, the smirk on his face never fading.
"You still have that fire in you. I missed it." He admitted, leaning in to whisper so that his words were for their ears alone. "But we both know I'm not afraid of you, dearest. If anything, you're the one that should be concerned." He motioned around vaguely, eyes never leaving theirs. "I control this city. One wrong move, and I'll have my Steel Watch take care of you. That would truly be a shame, would it not?"
The threat was empty, of course. He had no plans of harming them, no matter what they said or did, but he always quite enjoyed pushing their buttons, seeing what makes them tick, how much it takes for them to break.
He pulled them closer, pressing them flush against his chest, lips grazing their ear. "So why don't you try that again? Threaten me. Hurt me. Say you'll kill me if I don't do as you say. I promise I won't run away." He breathed out, his hand reaching up to caress their cheek gently, pulling their face towards his. "I'll beg for it. Crave it. Just as I always did. Show me how much you hate me, my treasure. Remind me of our history."
There was an unmistakable twinge of desperation in his voice. He needed this in ways he never needed anything else in his life — needed them to crave him, to hurt him all over again, to make him bleed. It was a yearning so strong he was sure it would swallow him whole. Which is why he pressed his lips against theirs despite his better judgement to keep teasing, keep pushing. He couldn't wait any longer.
What he wasn't expecting was the reciprocation and much less the harsh bite on his lower lip, strong enough he could taste his blood on their tongue. He moaned into their mouth, hands settling on their hips to pull them even closer. He did miss this.
It was hungry, sloppy, open-mouthed, but he still found it perfect. One hand rose to cup their cheek, and when they finally parted, gasping softly for air, he brushed it against their lower lip, smearing the remains of blood before slipping it inside their mouth. "That's better." He whispered, his voice husky. He felt their tongue against his digit before their teeth once again sank down on his flesh, and he groaned with a grin.
"Let's find somewhere more private, my pet. I believe we have some catching up to do."
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orange-orchard-system · 10 hours
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Sometimes it's like. You look at someone and you wonder how they go about their days with a reliable memory. What that's like. What it feels like to just know things, to be able to give examples of your life, to be able to answer a question of a happy memory you have without racking your brain for scraps. You plug it into the search box but all you can think about when you see the results is what it must be like to remember that you forgot.
And sometimes it's like. You wonder how anyone functions without that warm feeling in the back of your head of your others, always there for you. Happy and hopeful and picking each other up when one of you falls – maybe a little frayed at the edges, maybe with some wounds that need healing, but sticking together all the same. It's warm like a campfire and warm like excitement, warm like how clouds look to be, even though you know they're cold and wet. You can turn back to them and get a thousand whispered promises of support before you even ask.
And sometimes it's like. You see people laughing at a joke in which you are the butt, the punchline, the freak. And you wonder how they can hate you, how they can show it so casually, what gave them the courage, what prevented their shame. But you never wonder why, because you already know – that's what the joke's about.
And sometimes you know you're not going to remember something even as you're standing in the middle of it. Maybe you try to enjoy the moment – but does it really matter when you're not really experiencing it in the first place?
And sometimes you wonder where you are. And sometimes you wonder who you are.
And sometimes it's like. You're staring at the person who just said they know you, and you have no idea if they're telling the truth, and you have no idea if you can trust them. You don't remember them, but maybe they remember you? Or maybe it's a lie – maybe it's a trick, like how the bullies from childhood would pretend to care. Like how your parents would pretend to care. So you turn them down and admit you don't recognize them, because disappointing someone genuine is safer than risking a knife to the chest – after all, you don't even know if it'll be figurative or literal.
And sometimes it's like. Did your food go bad because you forgot about it? Or is it still good, and you just don't like it right now? Will you like it again later? Did you make the wrong decision in cooking this tonight and not saving it for later? Or did they just change the production of the ingredients? Can you stomach your dinner when you hate it? When it tastes so bad, but used to taste so good?
And sometimes it's like. A melody of a conversation, played with no one else and your mind as the instrument. Hums and bells and chirps and whistles; an orchestra could never outperform what you hear from your own head. It is beautiful and wonderful and you wish everyone could get to experience this, but then you remind yourself that not everyone would enjoy such a thing. And then you wonder why.
And sometimes people write those with voices in their head as murderers. And you watch an ad for an upcoming horror movie with apathy; you can't even be disappointed anymore. You've been upgraded from joke to villain.
And sometimes it's joy passed around from one self to another, gaining momentum, swinging and singing and flying until you can't help but beam and you bite your tongue to keep from laughing because one of your selves just told the best joke you've ever heard.
And sometimes you cry, and they are the only ones there to comfort you.
And sometimes you lash out at them. And sometimes they forgive you. And sometimes that forgiveness only makes you bitter, because it's so foreign. It's the person claiming to know you all over again – why should I trust you? Especially when we make each other into jokes and villains in the eyes of everyone else?
And sometimes it's like. I have no choice but to trust you, to be vulnerable with you, and somehow that makes it easier.
And sometimes your others argue over which bowl to use for your cereal, only for all of you to forget the spoon.
And you wonder what it would be like to remember.
And you wonder what it would be like to decide so easily.
And you wonder what it would be like to hate someone like you – until you remember that you know the answer to that one, because you know what's it's like to hate yourself.
And sometimes your others help you write something that isn't quite poetry but isn't quite not, and you've been trying to write something like this for a while but struggled to find the words, and you're up way too late and should honestly just go to bed but first you have to write this down, and your week has been shitty and you're not out of the woods yet, but at least you have their warmth as you trudge through the dark – something small (but not insignificant) to keep you going, being pulled along by hope that isn't yours and a duty to the ones who have been there for you when no one else was.
And sometimes it's like. Can you guys just choose a spoon already?
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chantiying · 5 hours
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Message from your inner child
Before to start, sorry for any mistakes or grammar error. English is not my first language. How to choose? Think of something you liked when you were a child (a game, a toy, a smell, a candy, your favorite stuffed animal) and try to remember you as a kid, take a deep breath and when you're ready, you and your inner child choose the image that drawn to you. Remember tarot is not set on stone and you can change your path whenever you want. This is for entertainment purposes. This reading is general so if it doesn't resonate with you just let it go
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: ¨·.·¨ :
` ·. 🦋
╱|、
(˚ˎ 。7
|、˜〵
じしˍ,)ノ
TW. Direct or indirect mention of abuse, bulling, violence, familial violence, broken family among others.
Ok, let's go!!!
PILE 1
Hello my friend :) Do you remember how disastrous our childhood was? Do you remember that there were some people who hurt us? Remember when we were pushed aside from parties? Do you remember when we found out that sometimes the "love" of a couple is not two but three? Remember when we found out what infidelity meant? Come, here and close your eyes for a moment, because I want to tell you a secret but I don't want you to see me are you ready? Yes? Ok: the infidelity of our parents marked me
I know since then we don't know what it means to love or how to make a relationship work. I know it's a lot harder for you than it was for me. I know sometimes you wonder if you're loving too little or too much, I know you're scared of being harmed like mom and dad did. Do you still feel that strange feeling of isolating all noise with music or the TV on while we sit on the floor of the room begging for it all to end? I do love you, my friend :) I know it seems a little difficult, I know it seems a little hard to say and hear, I know you may not believe it because they made you doubt what it means to love someone, but, I'll let you in on another secret: I don't feel alone anymore. I've learned that sometimes we have to leave where the water overflows to build a better castle. I learned to be smarter and not to argue when it's not necessary, to stop talking where no one listens, to live with myself and with you.
Please, I know it's not easy, but I want you to start again, on your own, I want you to leave everything behind, to let the dragons (they are not bad I already talked to them and they said they are on our side) I want you to let them destroy what hurts us, and to start building your own fortress. I want to be your first beautiful relationship. I want that you love me because I love you and I will always love you. Please love me, okay? Let's be you and me (km little you, hehe) against everyone. I want to be your partner in crime and have us laugh together. I promise you that after that, we're going to smile more and forget what they did to us.
You also have to eat well, did you hear me? Oh and don't tell anyone, but, I'm craving our favorite sweet treat from when we were little, can you eat it for us?
I'm always with you, don't forget me, I'm you but in little. Oh, something else, let's pretend it's your birthday, yei ! let's be happy for today and close your eyes again and make a wish
Francis Forever Mitski, Innocent Taylor Swift. Grey, Purple, Blue. Leaves & Streets. Orange juice?, Music, Cartoons, Headphones, Magic Wand. Mulan (I'll Make a Man Out of You)
🧸🎂🎈🍫 🧸🪄🎈🍫
PILE 2
Hey!!! What's up, buddy? I am very happy, I feel that I have arrived where I needed to be, I feel that the sun has finally risen, I feel that all the changes I had to go through have now paid off. The knowledge, the peace, the beliefs, everything I needed to cultivate is bearing fruit. See? I even speak as someone cultured and intellectual 😸. At first I didn't notice it, I was incredulous, but then I started thinking and thinking and thinking, and I realized that the change started in the interior. I know, you don't have to tell me, it sounds very cheesy, it sounds silly, but, I must admit, even if it's a little embarrassing, that sometimes dreaming and being cheesy is kind of fun SO DON'T MAKE FUN OF ME 😾😹. Ok, let's be serious, mate. We went through a time where we didn't believe in anything and we didn't even know if we should believe but I kept doing it. I kept looking until I got to where I needed to and BOOM it all made sense. Our lives are going to get better, we're better now, we're brave, we're smart, we're strong, we're cool !! We still have to keep learning, we still have a long way to go, but I learned that learning is also fun. DON'T GIVE UP, OK? Ok. I know it's hard to grow, but we've always wanted this, we've never bowed down, we've never given up, we've always looked forward and we'll continue to do so
Keep in your heart the ones who help you and give you happy moments, then let's continue writing our story
No matter how many steps forward you take, whether it's one or two or a thousand, I'll always be there proud of where you've taken us and what an amazing person you've made us. I only ask you to never forget where you come from and where you are going, don't forget to be grateful, don't play with anyone's heart or time, that's not good 😾. I want you to appreciate the time and I want that, when you think that the world is against you, or that everything is going wrong, you can change it. Don't worry, I don't want you to blame yourself for everything, but I also don't want you to always blame it on others. I know sometimes it's hard, keep trying again and again, even if you're scared don't don't victimize yourself because heroes don't do that, and you and I have the prettiest cape, we have the cutest glitter and we have the best superhero story just for us, and don't be afraid, because superheroes can do anything and if we can't our superhero friends will help us 😼
Let's be great, let's be epic!
Disney, A lot of changes or currently changing something, Happiness, Beach, Comics, Sun, Summer, Ice cream, Watch, Hats, Hawaiian Roller Coaster Ride, Hannah Montana, Vacation, Pop en español (Pop in Spanish), Extrovert, Mischievous, Spider man? Funny, Tangled (the movie)
🦸, 👨‍🚀, 🐱, 🚀
PILE 3
There are two of us, we are yourself and I, and it has always been like this ☺️, do you feel confused? Because I do, a little bit, you won't get mad if I tell you, right? You'll understand, right? I feel like everything is going so fast, I feel like I can't stop, I feel like I want to rest, I feel like when I wanted the geography or math hour to end and go out for recess to get some fresh air. why is everything going so fast? I want to understand what's going on, I want to, I really want to, but I can't. Do you no longer feel distrustful? Do you believe in other people yet? Because I don't do it yet 🥺, do we have friends yet? Or are we still alone? Are they still hurting us? Are we still unsafe? I don't want to be like that anymore, I promise you, (crying?) I want to have a lot of friends, I want to be loved, I want to play, I want to have fun, but I can't believe in others, do you? I don't want to be alone, I know I said it was you and me, and I still believe it, it's you and me against the world, but I also want us to be more against the world. I want someone to turn on the light and hold my hand, would you? I want you to hug me, talk to me, I feel like you're mad at me, at the little you from a few years ago, did I do something wrong? Do you think it was my fault that we were treated like this? Do you think it was my fault that we were disappointed? I'm a little annoyed with you too, not gonna lie. you know what? I was a kid but you have everything to change what happened to us, you pretend that it doesn't hurt anymore and that's a lie! you're still upset and scared, listen, it's ENOUGH! Do something for us. At least I'm angry but I want us to change this, I want us to be happy. I want us to be together and happy, I want us to be one, I want you to remember me, but not only the bad but the good as well, remember what we like, remember the watercolors, the music we liked, remember the sun, the window, remember the yard, remember the stories that mom/dad used to tell us. Remember Mom/Dad. Remember the puddles after the rain. Please, I'm not asking you to want to be a child again to do everything differently, I'm asking you to connect with me so that our creativity flies, so that you know where to go, so that you can start something new.
The magic is in us, accept us, what you don't want to let out, is what makes us most beautiful
You will get what you want, but don't want everything, don't be ambitious. Don't forget us, don't forget you, never forget yourself.
Sadness, Grudge, Sobbing, Poverty (both spiritual and economic), Pranks, Bullying, Grass, Secret place, 8 years? Cold, Scams, Rain, Mirror, Emojis. Monsters, inc. As a child, Madeline The Person. J's lullaby (darling I'd wait for you), Delaney bailey. All I want, Kodaline. Rises the moon, Liana Flores
ꗃ🗝₊˚⊹♡ 𓉞 . ⸙͎。˚⋆ 𓋼
Hi guys! Sorry for the late update. To be honest I struggle being consistent in what I do, but I'm trying (no, I'm really trying) to be more consistent.
Today, is children's day in my country, so I decided to do this spread for you all, because I consider that connecting and embracing our inner child is one of the most healing things we can do. So happy Children's Day !!
Alic (Chanty) 🪽
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nellasbookplanet · 2 years
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I've never been particularly interested in reading the love hypothesis (contemporary romance isn't my thing) but seeing people get absolutely frothing mad at its mere existence is pushing me close to actually picking it up.
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sollucets · 7 months
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wrote a whole long post that didn't make sense because i'm a fic writer not a meta writer and the point comes down to this: sand and ray are both Such Bad Liars
they have honest faces. nobody, in-universe or in the audience, is ever really fooled when they pretend things are other than they are.
when sand is hurt you can tell, it's in every line of his body. ray is expressive and straightforward but hides his hurt a little better, not because he's better at lying but because the hurt hardly ever goes away.
ray can see sand freezing up and looking upset when he's called a friend or not prioritized, he can see the lie, but it doesn't matter compared to what sand's actually saying and what it'll mean if it's (not) true. he's gotten a lesson recently about pushing. and sand, i think, can see ray caring but he can't imagine it could be enough, that he could matter the most or be a priority. when ray calls sand a whore it's the only lie he told that night and sand knows it
when they hurt each other sand lies and pulls away and ray can tell, and similarly ray lies and pulls away and sand can tell, and theyre stuck in limbo because of it. awful. hate it. 10000 more just like it please
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boxwinebaddie · 2 months
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my gay sons having matching personality appropriate unhealthily obsessed codependent jewelry check!
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#nina speaks#that hc did things to my brain i cannot undo#also yes stans was 10 dollars at a mall kiosk#like 15 minutes before his show#and kyles was 300 dollars#and he planned it for weeks#im crying#your honor!!!#i can see raven eating taco bell on the phone like broooo oh my god i will be Right There hang onnnnnnn >:/#like ooh ooh can i have the cool fancy curly font and OOH WILL U PUT IT IN A HEART THATS SO SICK!!!!#and jersey on the phone w marcus neiman#calling like every two hours for updates#fucking maddogging their front porch#and it literally shows up right when kyle gets in the shower so when he finally comes out stan is Holding The Package#squinting at it like kyle this was on our porch#but idk do u think it’s the neighbors it says like mariah newman on it????? *squints again* *frowns in dyslexia*#do u know a mariah?? CUE JERSEY EXTREMELY LOUD NERVOUS LAUGHING LIKE hAHA ILL GET IT TO HER THX BB#LIKEW WHEW!#I LOVE U DYSLEXIA#RAVENSTAN PUTTING THE SEXY IN DYSLEXIA ALWAYS#truly the ceo of being sexy and dyslexxxy ;)#jersey meticulously pacing their apartment trying on five diff outfits draping himself over every arm rest and surface#trying to figure out what way looks like the most nonchalant for when stan walks in and he has to pretend hes unbothered#and kyle was like you just wore a choker with my intial on it on live tv and didn't tell me and stans like oh my god!! i DID tell you#or fuck okay i was Going To but there was a really cute dog and i took a selfie w/ her and then i ran out of space and while#i was trying to free up space in my phone my phone died but i didnt have time to charge it before the concert but!!!!#surprise!!!! do u like it cccc:#and jersey is like Don't Worry#You'll Know When You Get Home ;) xx#AASAAaAAAAaA GAAAAAAAAY PEOPLE!!!!
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bmpmp3 · 10 days
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I NEEED to go back to making art that makes it ABUNDANTLY clear that theres something wrong with my brain BUT NOT in a cool or stylishly interesting way. i need to do it in a way that makes people say "hm." and walk away
#sowwy ive been kinda going through it in my fine arts major rn can u tell HJKSDHKFd#ive been feeling like. scared. and paralyzed by marketability and branding.#i cant stop thinking about how other people will see my art. but not like in a good way#when i was younger i thought about it in a good way. like hee hee hoo hoo the act of looking connected us hee hee#but rn i keep thinking about it in like this wretched like consumer product mindset? ouhhghhhhh el problema es el capitalismo#and like maybe this works for some people. to think like this. to make art like this. its what my professors push me towards#not intentionally. they dont say it out loud at least. im not sure if they know or not some of the irony#my professors are nice and pretty smart and talented and i like em. but sometimes i wonder like. the push for us as students to make like#marketable 'avant garde'? stuff thats safe but pretending to be weird and out there#i dont mean to sound pretentious. in general i play it too safe myself (spent too much time as an edgy 10 year old with my#parents freaking out over my shoulder because they think the fact that i drew an anime character frowning means something serious LOL)#but i dunno man. my least interesting art with the least amount of care thought or effort always gets so much more attention in school#nowhere else oddly. online? people like my more passionate but seemingly frivolous art (oc art etc. not frivolous to me but yknow how it is#same with irl artists and other industry people outside my school. whats going on in my school LOL#i know from experience i cant push myself into a supposedly marketable brand. if i try to make something sell it will not.#i dont know why. maybe theres an invisible essence buyers can tell when i didnt care jkfsldjdfrds#but my teachers LOOOOVE the stuff i put no passion in its so bizarre orz but i gotta relearn how to ignore half of their advice#i used to be better at it. but i also only used to ignore like a quarter of their advice. maybe i need to amp up how much im ignoring#that sounds mean. they have plenty of good advice. but also plenty of advice thats clouded by their own biases#and i gotta relearn how to sort out this stuff again. i forget every few months for some reason#you know i always think ouuhhhhh i act so neurotypical ouhhhhhhhhh im outgoing i talk to strangers all the time i seem confident#im so masked IM SO MASKED but then i go a couple weeks where every conversation i have has people looking at me like#i have two heads and neither of them are speaking their language. and then i descend into madness like this HJKLDSHJDS#i'll be fine i'll figure it out. i need to stop trying to get a good grade in being a 'cutting edge' conventional artist <3#i need to just. draw my cartoon characters in peace 😔😔😔
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running-in-the-dark · 4 months
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today was exhausting - my friend was here for about 7 hours and I just. oh man I love her and all but it's just a lot sometimes. it's probably for the best that we only meet up like 2-4 times a year now (gives me enough time to forget how draining it is so I look forward to it, and recover afterwards)
I don't talk to anyone but my husband most days, and he doesn't really talk. so that's maybe 15 minutes total of talking. and today it was literally. 7 hours. no breaks except when we were eating (but no even then someone was always talking).
first of all ouch, it hurts (my voice is very hoarse now). and also. it's so so so draining. like. we really have nothing in common at this point. but she's my oldest friend and I do love her so it's tolerable... but just barely. these days there's way too much diet/food/weight loss talk, and also she seems to be getting into alternative medicine which I cannot fucking stand (it's one topic where I can't pretend or be nice about it either). lots and lots of very preachy vegan stuff too (I don't have any problems with it, I admire people who can do it, but fuck dude you know I eat meat and that I've said many times that I *can't* go vegan (I would starve. there's not enough foods that would be left. seriously.) and it feels pretty shitty to keep going on about it every damn time. I'm not sitting there trying to convince her that she should really be an atheist or something, because I know what her thoughts are about that and I respect it.
when she hangs out with her other friends a lot it's mostly just talking about all the issues that come from that (they fucking suck). I don't know, it kind of feels like I'm her therapist. when I talk about something I'm interested in she doesn't ask many questions and it kind of sucks. like, dude I don't care about your plants either, but I'm interested because you care, so. maybe try that too. would be nice!
#like I know alllll about her other friends and their shitty behaviour#and just. it's exhausting#it's also exhausting telling her over and over again that she is too nice. yes being nice is good and all but she lets people walk all over#her and afterwards she goes 'oh well I guess it was probably just because [they had a bad day/other thing that happened/I said the wrong#thing]'. I do that too! but it's just EVERYTHING. always. even when someone is CLEARLY being shitty to her. like her shitty friends. she#will still excuse their behaviour#it just makes me sad man.#buuut#like come on maybe let me talk about my stupid tv show for 5 minutes and try to seem a little interested? I know it's irrelevant I know no#one cares but damn you really can't pretend?? I've mentioned it before a couple times on the phone and she's always just vaguely like 'ah#that sounds interesting' WHEN I HAVEN'T EVEN SAID ANYTHING ABOUT WHAT IT'S ABOUT. but she doesn't ask what it's about so. I just stop#talking about it and we change topics.#like. yeah I know it's a bit weird that I'm in my 30s and that is one of the most important things in my life rn but. that's how I am. it's#always been that way. and my other friends care (or at least pretend to because they care about *me*)#so it feels pretty shitty!#like if I can look at 15 pictures of how big her fucking plants and herbs are getting. idk maybe ask one question about my show.#or like. even things like our new apartment and stuff. she listened and everything. but it's just. there's no interest there really. just#live 'oh that's nice :)' and we move on to the next topic again#idk man it makes me a bit sad (and I know it's ironic because I say she needs to acknowledge that people don't treat her well but. I mean I#do know this isn't great. and I limit my communication with her to a level that doesn't feel too exhausting. so. idk I feel like it's#different or whatever. buut really I just don't have many friends and I get lonely and it's better to listen to someone talk about#themselves all the time than not talking at all)#okay I'm gonna shut up now#and anyway I'm just exhausted and it's all very fresh rn and I'm incredibly tired so I'm very grumpy. usually it's really not that bad.#I just needed to vent I guess#okay bye and goodnight and I will stop talking now I swear#personal
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fleshdyke · 9 months
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absnskaisgbsj
#lost literally one of the best friendships of my life yesterday#i mean it’s been gone for a while i just never had the courage to talk to them about it until yesterday. and that basically confirmed it tbh#they didn’t say i did anything wrong but they also didn’t not say i did anything wrong and i’m v paranoid that i did do smth wrong#like i dont want to talk bad abt any of them bc genuinely i had so much fun with these people and im so glad i got to know them#like when i talked to them they were very dry ig? like not like their usual self at all even when talking to someone they dont know#definitely sounded like they were talking to someone they hated. im trying to tell myself taht its just my anxiety but ummm yeah idk i think#im actually right this time#idk. it just sucks man. im trying to think of what i did wrong bc i just dont know what happened#i think im overanalyzing every interaction i can remember having with these ppl bc i dont even want to entertain the idea that they might#have been bad people all along. i dont want to think that and i dont but idk it feels like an observation about myself that ive made from#the outside in yk. like half of me is feeling the emotional response and the other half is just watching from the outside like im someone#else. and i know this is a normal human thing but its just always weird yk#and then theres the whole awful thing of seeing shit that they would find funny or that reminds me of them. and i also dont know what im#supposed to do when school starts back up again bc we took a lot of the same classes and if i end up in a class with them idk if im supposed#to say hi or just pretend they dont exist or not and i dont want to make the wrong decision so they hate me even more yk#whatever man. it fucking sucks but life goes on. my dog is just chilling in my room rn and i’ll always have her and tia and my brother#rambles#vent
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depresseddepot · 2 years
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every year I'm excited for my birthday and then it actually comes around and I start having to do birthday activities such as "talking to people" and "accepting gifts" and I remember why I always hate my birthday
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lesbianpikachu · 5 months
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.
#WE ARE SO BACK DUDE#MAN#this is like the first good night i've had in a while#goddamn it i fucking hate being an adult and it's something that's frustrated me in a way i don't know how to express for so fucking long#being able to admit that to myself and just say it out loud feels so fucking good. I do not want to do adult shit. i do not want to pretend#to be normal fuck everything and everybody i fucking hate being an adult i hate careers and social niceties fuck everything#god i fucking hate everything and im so happy to be able to say that again. life fucking sucks and thats it#oh my god ive been stuck in a positivity puddle for so long i hate it. complaining and hating is my lifee i will never stop#just oh my god it's so hard to be alive all the time and nobody ever talks about it and just expects you to do everything right all the tim#We are not going to fucking make it dude. what else is there. can we do something else#i feel so expected to just do things right all the time and i feel like people can see that and just make fun of me for existing all the ti#i fucking hate it! literally all of that shit makes me want to die. but like yeah like oh my god putting all of that down might fix me#we'll see. oh god the pokemon video looms large. im on gen 4 but i've been hardcore procrastinating on it. i'm just so done with all the sh#MAN i feel like a real person again i feel like i can breathe. i have been so frustrated w my friends and family for the longest time#and now i just feel like oh. yeah. literally none of this bullshit is necessary. why am i letting all these people tell me how to live#Who cares if im alone who cares if someones watching who cares if people like me i am alone i am happy i am doing what i want#like if i meet my goals and i feel like im doing what i think i should be doing then who cares. i'm having the experiences i want to have#and that's enough. it was always enough. and anybody who says it isn't should get over it. im fine. why are you trying to make me not fine#ok im done im done i just wnated to pour all this out. it feels a little cheesey but legitimately most nights to me feel like they dont mat#and this one is one that for the first time in a long felt like it finally did
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trashycosmos · 8 months
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can we talk about the funniest thing of the whole experience was someome who sb me for almost 10 months straight saying they were upset i wasn't nice/distant/cold and didn't apologize for it and when i called out their behavior there was no apology from them they just didn't want to talk anymore lol
#literally laughed out loud reading the message#like one of us wanted was trying to be a murderer without getting blood on their hands (literally) and i'm the asshole bc i had the normal#HUMAN response to their bullshit#honestly they ought to consider themselves lucky i'm much more stable than they are or will ever be#the hilarious cherry on top of the whole fuck sundae is i wasn't even in therapy for at least the last 3 months of it all and they were#which is incredible#also a stark reminder that if (some) people can't be honest with their therapist then why are even you going roflmao#granted ig if you tell them you were actively trying to harm or threaten someone i think they're legally obligated to hold you in a ward#the level of narcissism was u n r e a l#it's not like i pretended to have been a perfect example of how to handle things but! there's! no! rulebook! on handling a sb piece of shit!#the truth shut them down & up so quick it was almost cathartic#kudos to them ig for cutting back on it after but goddess help the next person they try it on and give them the same patience/fortitude#moral of the story (for me) don't lie to your therapist (or another person's) or hide things from them#1) you aren't going to get any better 2) they have spent years learning to read people and they can see you for who you are and 3) you won't#even get the proper medication(s) (if you need it which goddess they need a significant number) for your illness(es)#honestly might explain quite of a bit of their spiral tbh and listen to your therapist when they tell you smoking weed exacerbates paranoia#i'm not saying don't smoke i'm saying smoke intelligently and safely. there's no shame in taking a break to better your mental health first#i've certainly done it#they could always start with why they were yelling about someone oddly specific on different occasions bc you know#it didn't present as suspicious in the least or why they couldn't pay others certain compliments like you're not subtle and again#not to be a broken record but that's what your therapist should be there for!#Falling Apart And Coming Together#i should come up with a label for it for me and when they potentially wanna snoop on my blog again rofl#but to anyone who('s) goes/going through similar i'm so sorry and i hope you refuse to give them the power to influence or control you#it usually comes from a place of them feeling like they have no control over themselves and it shows#i will say the closest i ever got to snapping (meaning yelling) was when they whispered to Nettle they hoped she'd die and manhandled her#several times#accidentally killing a stranger's cat might have awakened something in them but i sure as fuck wouldn't them try intentionally harming mine#or the one's they own#i think they even collected payment still after the incident which is actually sickening
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peachciel · 10 months
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blehhhh
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luvjunie · 11 months
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earth 42 miles reaction to reader hanging up the phone on his face mid argument?
— facetime
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pairing: e-42!miles (aged up) x fem!reader
contains: arguing, minimal cursing, slightly toxic behavior lol
summary: you love miles, but his overbearing nature is beginning to irritate you. the two of you get into an argument over it on facetime, and you snap at him and hang up the phone. wc: 1,537
a/n: ik the pic might not make sense regarding who hung up on who, but i like it so we finna pretend it does lol. miles/reader are only aged up for plot
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“look mami, you not hearin’ me. i’m not tryna control you, i’m just saying maybe it would be best if-“
“that is literally you trying to control me.”
you cut miles off from another one of his mini tangents as you stared at him through the facetime call on your screen, so far beyond the point of caring to hear the same thing he’d told you a million times.
you loved your boyfriend with everything in you. honestly, you did. but in the last few months he’d grown to be so much more controlling than he was in the beginning, a result of his ridiculous need to protect you and it’s got your head spinning on your shoulders. you couldn’t do anything without him looming over you, and you’re fed up. it was suffocating, and you needed him to know that you could handle yourself.
you heard his voice come in again from your phone’s speakers.
“aight fine, if that’s what you wanna think, then that’s cool. but i don’t want you going out that late, chiquita, simple. ain’t no discussion.”
“alright, bro.” you sighed, and he tutted at you.
“i’m not your ‘bro’. don’t do that.”
while you knew your boyfriend only wanted the best for you, you didn’t really understand the extent to all these rules he’d given you. like no going to the corner store at night, having to keep your location on at all times, or having to send a picture of yourself when you’d gotten back into the house— so he could really make sure it was actually you texting him from your phone.
since then, you’d deemed it safe to assume that he most likely had immense trust issues, and that was why he acted so strangely, because any other reason for this kind of behavior seemed ludicrous to you.
miles had yet to tell you he was the prowler, that certain people had bounties on his head, which included anyone who may be involved with him, anyone he holds close to him. he saw everything that went on in this city— when night had fallen and the streets became far too dangerous of a place for a defenseless girl like you to be out in them. you had no idea the kind of people he dealt with, the things he’d seen, the things he had to do. he just didn’t want you to get hurt, but he wasn’t the best at expressing the sincerity of his words, and they often came out too rough, too harsh. it was the best he could do, he was trying to communicate effectively, he really was. but time and time again you’d failed to try and understand his pleas past the words spoken to you; to actually listen to them, and comprehend them, and not just listen to respond.
so, being you, you retorted like the stubborn girl you always were. the stubborn girl he’d fallen so helplessly in love with and was only trying to protect with his entire being.
you scoffed, rolling your eyes at him in disbelief. “look, you can’t tell me what to do, miles. i can do what i want.”
he didn’t hear anything that came from your mouth, because the expression on your face had completely distracted him from the conversation at hand.
“hol’ on, did you just roll your eyes at me?” his brow raised, daring you to answer that question with anything but a ‘no’.
what you responded with wasn’t necessarily a ‘yes’ per sé, but it definitely wasn’t any better.
“oh, so you wanna control my face now, too? dictating what i do with my life or the shit i say isn’t enough for you?” you challenged.
his head dipped back as he laughed, a deep, provoked laugh— though the both of you knew nothing was funny, and that this was always how he reacted before he actually got angry. laughing it off was a means for him to screw his head back on right, as if a warning to you to not push him too far, because anybody who spoke to him with this kind of gall just had to be joking.
he exhaled heavily, a hand scrubbing down his face.
“can’t lie, you talkin’ mad crazy right now, ma. i think you need to cool it with that.” he warned, corners of his lips turned into a forewarning leer. “ima let that lil’ shit you just said slide, cause i love you, and ion wanna hurt your feelings, but we done talking about this.” he decided, leaning forward to prop his phone back up on his desk before scooping his playstation controller back up into his hands.
“and watch your mouth.”
chin retreating towards your chest, you were taken aback at how quickly he decided for the both of you that the conversation was over, as if you had to agree with him, as if things were decided simply because he’d said so. and somehow, you found it in all your unbridled nerve to make things worse.
“yeah, you’re right. we are.”
thumb pressing to the red X, you hung up the phone, leaving miles to gape at the black of his screen with shock etched into his features. he waited for you to call back and tell him it was an accident, and sat there for a minute, leg bouncing to maintain what little patience he’d managed to cling onto during this entire ordeal. he swallowed his pride and called you back, only for the screen to read ‘facetime unavailable’ after just two rings. you declined it. squaring his jaw, he calmly nodded to himself, phone snatched up, jacket thrown on and controller tossed onto his bed— game forgotten about.
“bet.”
____
you were fuming after you’d hung up the phone, steam probably would’ve been puffing from your ears if something like that were possible outside of the cartoons. there was a tiny part—no, a huge part of you that knew you shouldn’t have hung up on him like that; that regretted it. a part that knew miles’ was genuinely trying his best to speak to you calmly in the way he’d learned how, specifically for you, when calm was something he rarely ever felt. but you couldn’t help your anger either, and figured a break from the conversation, and a shower to calm you down would do the both of you some good.
you sauntered out your bathroom after about twenty minutes, a towel tightly wrapped round your damp torso and a heavy, depleted exhale departing from your lungs.
you felt relaxed. the heat of the water had washed away most, if not all of your anger towards the situation and you sighed to yourself, ready to come back to the discussion with a level head, and to apologize to your boyfriend for snapping at him and ending the call so abruptly. it was rude of you, and honestly you hadn’t thought it through until you had already—
“you know, ion usually fuck with cats like that, cause y’all kinda freak me out. but you cool.”
the inner dialogue of your thoughts were cut off by a familiar voice, muffled through the shut door of your bedroom.
“what the fuck—“ you hurriedly started towards the door, hand barely remaining on the doorknob for a second as you flung it open, to see none other than your boyfriend, miles, sat in your desk chair with your cat, bella, in his lap.
he was leaned back, his large green puffer jacket still on, legs spread in his grey sweats. he looked very comfortable for someone who had just broken into a home.
“how the hell did you get into my house, miles?”
you stared at him unbelievingly, quickly shutting the door behind you. he was in no rush to lift his head to address you directly as he scratched the underside of bella’s chin with his pointer finger.
“window. you should really lock that.”
“even if i had, you would’ve picked it.” you argued.
“true.”
his eyes eventually met yours, and they gave you a drawn out once over, gaze following the drops of water that rolled down your skin. there was a hint of a smirk on his lips, and he almost forgot what he came here for. almost.
you felt your face heat up, grip tightening over your bath towel as you shifted on your feet, suddenly feeling flustered from the boldness of his gaze. so he looked away.
“let’s hope that shower gave your mama some of her sense back, huh?” he dipped his head down to address your cat in a sweet voice, before gently lifting her off his lap and placing her back onto the floor, only for her to drag her head and body along his calf with a purr. traitor.
he leaned back once more, hands patiently clasped between his open legs and head cocked to the side, twin braids swishing behind him when he did so.
“so wassup? you wanna try that conversation again?” with a brow raised he studied your features, as if he were silently challenging you to talk that same shit you did over the phone to his face.
“do you know what boundaries are?”
“nah, not really.” he admitted.
you swallowed, gesturing towards the open room for a reason you didn’t know why.
“can i at least get dressed first?” you cringed at how your voice sounded when you spoke, but the way he was looking at you had your mind reeling and you could only focus on one thing at a time— the argument long forgotten. to be honest, you don’t even recall what you had a problem with.
he shrugged. “sure, if that’s what you’d like.” arms crossing over his chest he spun around in your swivel chair, now facing the same window he’d come in through. “lemme know when i can turn around.”
you sighed.
this boy was going to be the death of you.
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