lee rubin, king of dancing to the lyrics literally
One Nice Bug Per Day
Cosmic Funnies
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if i look back, i am lost
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Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

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Sweet Seals For You, Always

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@unluckvs
lee rubin, king of dancing to the lyrics literally
@unluckvsâ đđđđđ : [ look ] for your muse to catch mine staring (for cas n cris ;////)
   cristine finds solace in a packed bar on a friday night. somehow being surrounded by a crowd of strangers felt more like home than the apartment she shared with her mom did. maybe it was because no one expected her to be anything or anyone here. thatâs what she loved most about night timeâ the chance to disregard responsibility and identity. cristine allows herself to fade away from reality for a little while, swaying to the music with her eyes closed. sheâs already a couple drinks in when she spots him. across the bar was caspian, effortlessly striking, and his eyes rest on cristine. she feels her breath catch in her throat but she dares to hold his gaze. itâs almost funny how cristine can spend so much of her time subconsciously looking for him in a crowd, looking for him in just about everyone she meets, and yet feels like running away when heâs actually facing her. must be a habit passed down from her mom. or was it the one thing her dad left her? Â
   there was a certain sadness that came from looking back at him. an unspoken ache. caspian always had a good read on her. his gaze had always held a level of understanding that no one else quite had. his gaze was different now. she had made sure of that. before he has a chance to read her further, she looks away and immediately turns to flag down the bartender. god knows she needed another drink.Â
*  Ⱡ @đđđđ đđđđđ  đđđđđ :  [  fix  ]  for  your  muse  to  treat  mineâs  injury  /  for  seryna  &  juno....  is  it  too  soon..  o  well  !
        âyou  didnât  have  to  do  that,â  she  sighs,  having  him  lift  at  the  hem  of  his  shirt  in  order  to  assess  the  wound  on  the  side  of  his  torso.  âyou  didnât  have  to  help  me.â  no  one  said  it  would  be  easy  â  when  playing  a  game  of  life  or  death  within  a  game  of  life  or  death,  how  could  it  ever  be?  â  but  seryna  had  always  despised  how  even  the  simplest  of  missions  could  easily  turn  a  full  180.  it  was  supposed  to  be  a  straightforward  dungeon  on  a  lower  floor  nowhere  close  to  being  past  their  skill  level:  defeat  the  monster,  get  what  they  need,  move  on.  how  could  she  have  predicted  members  of  a  rebel  guild  were  camping  the  area,  just  waiting  for  an  oblivious  pair  to  do  most  of  the  dirty  work  before  rushing  in  to  steal  the  final  blow?  steal  their  resources?  how  was  she  to  know  they  were  willing  to  resort  to  violence  to  make  sure  no  one  stood  in  their  way?  how  kills  were  practically  bragging  rights  for  them?  how...  had  it  not  been  for  her  companion  stepping  in  between  her  and  an  attacker  at  just  the  right  moment,  seryna  would  have  been  in  a  much,  much  worse  condition  than  he?  this  was  not  the  first  time  he  had  saved  her  life,  and  itâs  likely  not  the  last.  still,  as  she  goes  through  the  procedure  of  cleaning  his  wound  with  gathered  supplies  â  âkeep  still,â  she  whispers  â  all  she  can  think  about  is  how  much  sheâs  already  burdened  him,  how  she  hopes  theyâll  one  day  be  able  to  succeed  in  their  mission,  so  long  as  it  doesnât  kill  them  first.  she  supposes  theyâll  be  able  to  rest  a  little  easier  once  their  mutual  threat  is  eliminated  and  theyâre  able  to  part  ways,  but  why  does  it  feel  like  sheâs  losing  something  in  the  process?
        she  holds  the  dressing  in  her  hands  but  pauses  for  a  moment,  a  deep  sigh  leaving  her  lips.  âwhy  would  youââ  fists  fall  into  her  lap,  head  drops.  seryna  bites  her  lip  in  attempt  to  halt  the  tears  welling  in  her  eyes,  but  she  wouldnât  be  surprised  if  he  can  already  tell  emotions  are  getting  the  best  of  her.  âi  donât  want  you  to  put  yourself  in  danger  for  me,â  she  murmurs,  both  a  request  to  him  and  an  affirmation  to  herself  that  she  wasnât  forcing  him  to.  âi  wonât  be  able  to  forgive  myself  if  you  keep  getting  hurt  saving  me,  so  please,â  she  inhales  sharply,  âdonât.  if  not  for  your  conscience,  then  mine.â  she  wraps  up  his  torso  and  her  sentence,  lowering  his  shirt  and  rising  from  her  seat  to  step  away  for  a  moment.
martinski1x1:
âi threw rocks at the wrong window but iâm a little drunk and my girlfriend just dumped me so hey do you want to hang out with me?â au
I never meant to make you cry I canât pretend I never told a thousand lies itâs not the end
*  Ⱡ  what  color  is  your  love  language?
âș  subject:  winnie cha
YOUR  RESULT:  lavender  !
KEYWORDS: Â pure, Â affectionate, Â innocent
        your  love  is  the  love  of  childhood  crushes,  secrets  told  in  the  dark  between  two  best  friends  and  long  car  trips  with  your  favorite  sibling.  youâre  a  sweet  person  with  a  soft  heart  and  a  gentle  way  of  showing  your  affection.  a  pure,  idealistic  love,  yours  is  the  love  of  intertwined  pinkies,  butterfly  kisses,  and  rubbing  noses.
BEST Â MATCHED Â WITH: Â fern, Â canary
weâve all heard of the fake dating trope⊠but have u considered.. fake exes tropeâŠ..
âmy new romance-obsessed friend asked me who my last date was with and i was too embarrassed to say iâve never been on a date so i blurted your name and it turns out they know youâ au
âi didnât want to tell my friend who my real date last night was so i just pointed at a random stranger (you) but now theyâre storming over to interrogate you and youâre playing along??? okayâ au
âa mutual friend tried to introduce us, but we already knew each other from LARPing but weâre both too embarrassed to admit that so i jokingly said we used to date and oh god now our friend wont stop interrogating us about itâ au
âim egging your house for a dare but your parent is a cop and theyâre yelling at me so i told them that you were my ex and you wronged me and now youâre coming outside and please go along with this i donât want to go to jailâ au
âmy current partner is a huge asshole and i need a reason to break up with them so will you pretend to be my possessive and violent exâ au
âweâre contestants on a reality show and we kind of hate each other so the producers told us to pretend to be warring exes for the ratings so now we keep inventing crazier and crazier things the other did while we were datingâ au
friend with a bad idea:đ
me:đ
I love when i see a baguette poking out of the top of a grocery bag⊠its like yesâŠ.. thats exactly where u should be
pendelumsâ:
taking an exam was like an art for ezekiel. everything calculated to the perfect degree with organized stationary and a mental filing cabinet full of formulas he had studied weeks in advance. a studious attitude like his was something professors only dreamed to see from their students. arriving well in advance, ezekiel takes the time to review his notes before taking a deep breath and walking into the lecture hall. thereâs only a momentâs hesitation before he reaches the doorâ he allows himself a quick look around the crowd. a sense of both relief and disappointment fills him as he fails to identify who heâs looking for. no more distractions, and once heâs inside, heâs focused. that is, of course, until derrick takes a seat next to him. Â
it takes him a little by surprise to see the other male, considering he had skipped all those lectures prior. ezekiel wouldâve thought he had dropped the course if he didnât know any better. he doesnât dare glance his way, willing himself to tune out the sudden questions that arise in his mind ( did he get my notes? is he prepared for the midterm? ). ezekiel grips his pencil as he waits for the paper and once the clock begins its countdown, he dives straight in. itâs easyâ itâs everything he has prepared for and he works quickly through the questions, effortlessly punching in numbers into his calculator and writing answers with confidence. ezekiel finishes well in advance but doesnât leave his seat. itâs as if thereâs a weight that pulls him to stay. he convinces himself he should review his answers a second time. and then a triple time. what the hell is he stalling for? abruptly, he pushes himself up and hands in his paper without glancing back.
ezekielâs halfway through the hallway when he hears his name. he thinks maybe heâs imagined it ( as he sometimes did ) but when he turns around, he finds himself in a very real and unexpected situation. he could study math all night long but how does he prepare for this? âit was pretty straightforward. professor quinn really likes to use the textbook so there wasnât anything new,â he notes, recognizing some similar problems he found. ezekiel wonders how many times derrickâs opened the textbook. his gaze drifts down to the eraser that appears in the otherâs hand. the pencil case filled with identical stationary sits carefully tucked inside ezekielâs bag. he knows thereâs no way thatâs his and yet â âoh.. i mustâve dropped it on my way out,â he extends his palm in order to collect it, âthanks.â why did he just lie about an eraser, of all things? would derrick catch him in the lie? he figures if he keeps talking thereâd be no chance for questions. âdo you think you passed?â Â
        some might label derrick a man without a plan, others might simply settle for plain idiot, but one thing was for sure â even he was surprised when ezekiel claimed the eraser was his. of all the ideas that have filtered through his brain, this was surely one of his most unexpected successes. at least, in the context of cause-and-effect not immediately biting him in the ass it was. âyeah, uh, no problem.â he places it in the otherâs palm, though unsure what, exactly, this means for the two of them. he wouldnât have gone along with the fib if he didnât want to talk to him, right? âwouldnât want you to, you know, not be able to fix your mistakes or anything.â an awkward chuckle leaves his lips, hands retreating to the pockets of his jeans. ânot that i think you make mistakes,â he hastily appends. âitâs just, uh, yeah. real useful, those erasers.â he feels a part of himself wither inside. real useful, those erasers? who is he, a stationery spokesperson? heâs never been so uncharacteristically stiff before, especially with ezekiel. when he imagined how a formal reunion would go, derrick practically freezing in his presence was a possibility he never even considered possible. perhaps all those books heâs read had him a bit too idealistic.
        âgod, i sure hope i passed,â he exhales, gaze momentarily shifting toward the lecture hall door. âi practically pulled an all-nighter trying to cram all of the information from the lecture notes my roommate gave me. think i got two hours in between five to seven, so iâm half-impressed that i actually managed to wake up.â itâs difficult for him to meet ezekielâs eyes as he admits this. he knows heâd be disappointed in the depletion of his work ethic but still feels compelled to keep the conversation going. heâs already gotten this far. âyouâre probably the one whoâs gonna ruin the curve, though, huh?â he teases lightly, but the assumption is no joke. âdonât worry, i got your back if anyone tries to come after you for it.â
Most of all though, it was you who I wanted to tell that I was hurting. You were the one I wanted to explain to that if I had my heart in my hands instead of my chest, Iâd be able to watch it beat in pain to the beat of, âIâm hurting Iâm hurting Iâm hurting and youâre just watchingâ. But no one wants to hear about the pain theyâve inflicted. One moment youâre telling me you love me and the next you canât even look me in the eyes anymore and the next we havenât talked in 3 months and oh god oh god how is this happening oh- But it was still you I wanted to turn to, even though I knew that you werenât part of the team anymore. I wanted to beg my heart to let it go, God please, thereâs no point in beating for you anymore. But my heartâs never listening and my headâs awful at communication, so if youâre looking for a heart, another one to add to your collection, you know my house is the one on the corner of our favorite intersection.
It plays a song just for you (via loveserum)
*  Ⱡ @đđđđ đđđđđ  đđđđđ :  [  cover  ]  for  your  muse  to  cover  mine  with  a  blanket  or  a  jacket  /  4  ethan  n  emi  hehe
        itâs  movie  night  in  apartment  22407  once  again,  and  this  time,  itâs  jemâs  pick.  ethan  emerges  from  the  kitchen  with  two  bowls  of  popcorn,  setting  one  down  on  the  coffee  table  before  taking  a  seat  next  to  emi  on  the  floor.  heâd  always  been  fond  of  having  company  consistently  over  â  not  that  he  didnât  appreciate  being  around  just  his  housemates,  but  the  extra  people  sure  added  to  the  feeling  of  a  home.  she's  no  exception.  âwant  some?,â  he  hums,  waving  the  bowl  in  front  of  her  before  nestling  it  between  them.  itâs  not  until  heâs  silenced  by  a  neighboring  voice  that  he  realizes  the  movieâs  begun.
        theyâre  barely  thirty  minutes  in  when  he  senses  emi  shift  through  his  peripheral  â  in  discomfort,  he  presumes.  is  it  too  cold?  with  a  blanket  draped  over  his  rather  comfortable  outfit  of  hoodie  and  sweats,  ethan  hadnât  noticed.  he  glances  over  at  her  and  contemplates  for  a  moment.  why  he  feels  the  need  to  contemplate  in  the  first  place  is  ridiculous  to  him,  but  perhaps  itâs  the  mood  of  the  movie,  or  the  paranoia  of  their  friends  saying  something,  that  stirs  a  bit  of  nerves.  despite  this,  he  ever-so-casually  repositions  the  popcorn  bowl  to  sit  on  the  opposite  side  of  him  and  scoots  closer  to  her.  âhere,â  he  whispers,  taking  part  of  his  blanket  and  wrapping  it  around  her  so  that  the  two  of  them  are  cloaked  in  it.  he  feels  a  sudden  warmth,  but  itâs  not  because  of  her  body  heat.  itâs  a  warmth  he  canât  quite  explain  â  the  warmth  in  his  heart.
âRichard Siken, from âI Had a Dream About You,â Crush