#via text

[emzi-148]

Too lazy to edit (chapters), but motivated to edit (videos) 👍

PIXAL is there via purple text 👍

[communist-hatsunemiku]

As a representative of the Worlds Spelling Consortium I will commend your ability to spell.

Ohhhhhhhh not sure what I did to prompt this ask, but my secret is turning off autocorrect on my iphone, forcing me to actually spell from memory

[azucar-skull]

Neurologist: PNES basically means you suppressed your trauma so much that now it causes seizures

Me: *proceeds to suppress the diagnosis and not tell my family*

(Anyways, I got a Leo angst fic idea-)

[pickpocketwatch]

just found out my very best friend has my name spelled wrong in her phone. via video call. I asked her how “jashon” was pronounced and she said. idk it’s French.

[drinkthebones]

Meanwhile...

Follow up to Consequences? To my actions?: what Mina’s busy with while Lucy’s panicking. Featuring Mina and Jonathon sweet talking: Die (affectionate). Get wrecked (affectionate).

Plus a happy ending for the quad (quouple?)

A win for polyamory  •  How dare  •  Character Portrait Sheet

[chickwiththepurpleguitar]

okayyy sickfic adjacent prompts pt 1: carrie + asleep on the couch?

Here you go, my love, enjoy!

This takes place in my standing on the edge series, but can totally be read as a standalone post-canon.

Send me prompts (I only need like 6 more for the month!)

Carrie’s just gotten back from her morning run— hair in a bouncy high ponytail, a healthy sheen of sweat covering her exposed skin, MARINA still playing at a safe but heart-pumping volume through her airpods— when her dad corners her in the front hallway.

It’s clearly too early for him to be awake and coherent— he’s still in his luxury silk pajamas, his hair hanging limply around his face as a black sleep mask sits on his forehead. He’s got a jumbo mug of coffee in his hand, and he takes a sip, staring Carrie down, and says around the rim, “You have a visitor on the couch.”

Carrie takes her headphones out. “A visitor? It’s six o’clock in the morning.”

Her dad just sweeps an arm toward the den, and with a roll of her eyes, Carrie leads the way.

“Oh my god,” she says a minute later.

She really shouldn’t be surprised. Her 6am visitor is Nick, and not only is he on her couch, but he’s asleep on it, drowning in clothes too big for him, which means they’re Willie’s, and clutching a decorative throw pillow like it’s a teddy bear.

“He showed up about ten minutes after you left,” her dad reports from over her left shoulder, slurping his coffee annoyingly in her ear. “Didn’t feel like talking, but then again, neither did I cause it was four fucking thirty.”

Carrie rolls her eyes. He makes a big deal out of this stuff like it dragged him out of bed, when more likely, he hadn’t actually fallen asleep yet. “Well, thanks for letting him in,” she says, because she says things like that now. “You can go back to sleep, I’ve got him.”

Trevor grunts. “Greta’s in at seven, make sure you both eat something.” And then he heads for the stairs, throwing back the rest of his coffee in one gulp.

Once he’s gone, Carrie lets out a long sigh and looks her visitor over. There could be any number of reasons why Nick’s here so early, but the most obvious of them is that he just couldn’t sleep, so she’d hate to wake him.

Instead, she tucks a blanket over him and goes to shower, re-emerges an hour plus later in clean sweats and freshly blow-dried hair curled over one shoulder. She doesn’t bother with makeup or cute clothes, not when she doesn’t have plans to leave the house today, not when it’s just her dad and their private chef and Nick here to see her.

He’s still asleep when she comes back into the den, and she can hear Greta setting up her supplies in the kitchen, so Carrie goes to greet her— Greta’s a cheek-kisser, the only reason Carrie can stand it is cause her food is delicious— and orders two strawberry protein smoothies and a vegan omelet for Nick. 

“I make you one, too,” Greta insists in accented English, already taking out two blocks of tofu, and Carrie doesn’t have the energy to argue.

She returns to the den and finally sits down, tucked into the corner so that Nick’s socked feet just touch her thigh. She runs a hand over his ankle, trying to give him some comfort even in his sleep, and then pulls out her phone.

It’s too early to text Nick’s dads (adults always have their ringers on at night, though, so really they deserve what’s coming to them), and Willie, like an idiot, still won’t let any of his lifer friends buy him a cell phone, so she texts Alex: Nick’s at my place, not sure who knows.

Thanks, he texts back. I’ll tell Willie if he comes looking for him.

She sends him a heart emoji and then a middle finger emoji, just to keep things interesting, and then puts her phone away.

She looks at Nick. His mouth is hanging open, a tiny sliver of drool dribbling onto the blanket, and his cheeks are a little flushed from the imprint of the couch. She knows she’s gonna have to wake him up soon, to get some food in him and see if he’s ready and able to talk about what sent him over here at the ass crack of dawn.

But for now, he looks peaceful, and she knows he hasn’t been getting nearly enough sleep since he got unpossessed.

She won’t disturb him yet. At least he’s safe here with her. At least he felt comfortable asking to nap on her couch when he needed it.

“Love you, babe,” she says to his sleeping form, and at least she can say that now and really mean it.

--

Taglist: @whenweremarried @sunsethimb0s @pink-flame @penguin0613 @fighttoshine @sunsetcurvecuddles @teenagedirtbag-dot-jpeg @brightattheorpheum @queenmolina @jandthephantoms @lexilucacia @sapphossidechick @acnhaddict @shrimp-colours @sunset-bobby @lenacarstairspotterstewart @conversationaltreestump @burntchromas @julieandthequeers @joyandthephantoms @it-tastes-like-lizard @jatpfs 

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

I had to lie to my mother last night.

She's behind on supergirl and is planning to binge the entire 6th season, so she knew I was basically swallowing spoilers so I wouldn't ruin anything for her.

And then, THEN, this bish-- who asked for no spoilers-- asked if Calista Flockhart made an appearance in the finale. And me, who had screeched like a banshee in utter delight because I had seen NO INFO about Cat Grant coming back... I made a split decision to preserve my mother's lack of expectations.

And I proceeded to lie right to her face.

My mom: what about calista? Did she come back?

Me, sweating profusely: no

I haven't had to lie since I was a teenager, y'all. I'm getting war flashbacks. I'm thirty years old and still am horrible at lying. Like, I'm honest to a fault. It just rarely occurs to me to lie. Thank god I did this time. I hope it pays off and I get a good reaction.

[mediterraneancliff]

I just feel so unlucky in love. How does someone just breakup over text? That’s unforgivable. They didn’t even want to hear what I had to say and why I was sad.

Am I unlovable? Am I too much to handle? Am I deserving of love?

Maybe I should just stick to my original plan of marrying for companionship and not love