Theyre Idiots Your Honor - Tumblr Posts

So if I had any editing ability at all I’d have made one of those fun visual charts, but I don’t, and I still wanted to make this anyway so…

BRIDGERTONS & SPOUSES - WHY GET MARRIED?

Taxes - Anthony, Philip

So that My Family Will Never Have Power of Attorney - Sophie, Gareth, Francesca, Lucy

Being Able to shout “That’s my Spouse!” And punch someone right in the face! - Colin, Kate, Gregory

Because Dating Sucks - Penelope, Simon, Daphne

So that we never have to testify against each other in a court of law - Hyacinth, Eloise, Michael

Love? What the Fuck Guys?! - Benedict

Caitlyn: Can I be frank with you guys?

Vi: Sure, but I don’t see how changing your name is gonna help.

Jinc: Can I still be Jinx?

Catra: Shh, let Frank speak.

Just a silly bunch of idiots 💛🩷💙

Bonus of Kakashi getting murdered

Please back away from the cliff. If I wanted something more like Twitter, I’d set a dumpster on fire and dive into it. If I wanted something more like Facebook, I’d go ask my dad what he thought about politics.

When will companies learn that the people using their product picked that product because of what it was, not in the hope that it’d become their competitor who they expressly passed up?

Tumblr’s Core Product Strategy

Here at Tumblr, we’ve been working hard on reorganizing how we work in a bid to gain more users. A larger user base means a more sustainable company, and means we get to stick around and do this thing with you all a bit longer. What follows is the strategy we're using to accomplish the goal of user growth. The @labs group has published a bit already, but this is bigger. We’re publishing it publicly for the first time, in an effort to work more transparently with all of you in the Tumblr community. This strategy provides guidance amid limited resources, allowing our teams to focus on specific key areas to ensure Tumblr’s future.

The Diagnosis

In order for Tumblr to grow, we need to fix the core experience that makes Tumblr a useful place for users. The underlying problem is that Tumblr is not easy to use. Historically, we have expected users to curate their feeds and lean into curating their experience. But this expectation introduces friction to the user experience and only serves a small portion of our audience. 

Tumblr’s competitive advantage lies in its unique content and vibrant communities. As the forerunner of internet culture, Tumblr encompasses a wide range of interests, such as entertainment, art, gaming, fandom, fashion, and music. People come to Tumblr to immerse themselves in this culture, making it essential for us to ensure a seamless connection between people and content. 

To guarantee Tumblr’s continued success, we’ve got to prioritize fostering that seamless connection between people and content. This involves attracting and retaining new users and creators, nurturing their growth, and encouraging frequent engagement with the platform.

Our Guiding Principles

To enhance Tumblr’s usability, we must address these core guiding principles.

Expand the ways new users can discover and sign up for Tumblr.

Provide high-quality content with every app launch.

Facilitate easier user participation in conversations.

Retain and grow our creator base.

Create patterns that encourage users to keep returning to Tumblr.

Improve the platform’s performance, stability, and quality.

Below is a deep dive into each of these principles.

Principle 1: Expand the ways new users can discover and sign up for Tumblr.

Tumblr has a “top of the funnel” issue in converting non-users into engaged logged-in users. We also have not invested in industry standard SEO practices to ensure a robust top of the funnel. The referral traffic that we do get from external sources is dispersed across different pages with inconsistent user experiences, which results in a missed opportunity to convert these users into regular Tumblr users. For example, users from search engines often land on pages within the blog network and blog view—where there isn’t much of a reason to sign up. 

We need to experiment with logged-out tumblr.com to ensure we are capturing the highest potential conversion rate for visitors into sign-ups and log-ins. We might want to explore showing the potential future user the full breadth of content that Tumblr has to offer on our logged-out pages. We want people to be able to easily understand the potential behind Tumblr without having to navigate multiple tabs and pages to figure it out. Our current logged-out explore page does very little to help users understand “what is Tumblr.” which is a missed opportunity to get people excited about joining the site.

Actions & Next Steps

Improving Tumblr’s search engine optimization (SEO) practices to be in line with industry standards.

Experiment with logged out tumblr.com to achieve the highest conversion rate for sign-ups and log-ins, explore ways for visitors to “get” Tumblr and entice them to sign up.

Principle 2: Provide high-quality content with every app launch.

We need to ensure the highest quality user experience by presenting fresh and relevant content tailored to the user’s diverse interests during each session. If the user has a bad content experience, the fault lies with the product.

The default position should always be that the user does not know how to navigate the application. Additionally, we need to ensure that when people search for content related to their interests, it is easily accessible without any confusing limitations or unexpected roadblocks in their journey.

Being a 15-year-old brand is tough because the brand carries the baggage of a person’s preconceived impressions of Tumblr. On average, a user only sees 25 posts per session, so the first 25 posts have to convey the value of Tumblr: it is a vibrant community with lots of untapped potential. We never want to leave the user believing that Tumblr is a place that is stale and not relevant. 

Actions & Next Steps

Deliver great content each time the app is opened.

Make it easier for users to understand where the vibrant communities on Tumblr are. 

Improve our algorithmic ranking capabilities across all feeds. 

Principle 3: Facilitate easier user participation in conversations.

Part of Tumblr’s charm lies in its capacity to showcase the evolution of conversations and the clever remarks found within reblog chains and replies. Engaging in these discussions should be enjoyable and effortless.

Unfortunately, the current way that conversations work on Tumblr across replies and reblogs is confusing for new users. The limitations around engaging with individual reblogs, replies only applying to the original post, and the inability to easily follow threaded conversations make it difficult for users to join the conversation.

Actions & Next Steps

Address the confusion within replies and reblogs.

Improve the conversational posting features around replies and reblogs. 

Allow engagements on individual replies and reblogs.

Make it easier for users to follow the various conversation paths within a reblog thread. 

Remove clutter in the conversation by collapsing reblog threads. 

Explore the feasibility of removing duplicate reblogs within a user’s Following feed. 

Principle 4: Retain and grow our creator base.

Creators are essential to the Tumblr community. However, we haven’t always had a consistent and coordinated effort around retaining, nurturing, and growing our creator base.  

Being a new creator on Tumblr can be intimidating, with a high likelihood of leaving or disappointment upon sharing creations without receiving engagement or feedback. We need to ensure that we have the expected creator tools and foster the rewarding feedback loops that keep creators around and enable them to thrive.

The lack of feedback stems from the outdated decision to only show content from followed blogs on the main dashboard feed (“Following”), perpetuating a cycle where popular blogs continue to gain more visibility at the expense of helping new creators. To address this, we need to prioritize supporting and nurturing the growth of new creators on the platform.

It is also imperative that creators, like everyone on Tumblr, feel safe and in control of their experience. Whether it be an ask from the community or engagement on a post, being successful on Tumblr should never feel like a punishing experience.

Actions & Next Steps

Get creators’ new content in front of people who are interested in it. 

Improve the feedback loop for creators, incentivizing them to continue posting.

Build mechanisms to protect creators from being spammed by notifications when they go viral.

Expand ways to co-create content, such as by adding the capability to embed Tumblr links in posts.

Principle 5: Create patterns that encourage users to keep returning to Tumblr.

Push notifications and emails are essential tools to increase user engagement, improve user retention, and facilitate content discovery. Our strategy of reaching out to you, the user, should be well-coordinated across product, commercial, and marketing teams.

Our messaging strategy needs to be personalized and adapt to a user’s shifting interests. Our messages should keep users in the know on the latest activity in their community, as well as keeping Tumblr top of mind as the place to go for witty takes and remixes of the latest shows and real-life events.  

Most importantly, our messages should be thoughtful and should never come across as spammy.  

Actions & Next Steps

Conduct an audit of our messaging strategy.

Address the issue of notifications getting too noisy; throttle, collapse or mute notifications where necessary.  

Identify opportunities for personalization within our email messages. 

Test what the right daily push notification limit is. 

Send emails when a user has push notifications switched off.

Principle 6: Performance, stability and quality.

The stability and performance of our mobile apps have declined. There is a large backlog of production issues, with more bugs created than resolved over the last 300 days. If this continues, roughly one new unresolved production issue will be created every two days. Apps and backend systems that work well and don't crash are the foundation of a great Tumblr experience. Improving performance, stability, and quality will help us achieve sustainable operations for Tumblr.

Improve performance and stability: deliver crash-free, responsive, and fast-loading apps on Android, iOS, and web.

Improve quality: deliver the highest quality Tumblr experience to our users. 

Move faster: provide APIs and services to unblock core product initiatives and launch new features coming out of Labs.

Conclusion

Our mission has always been to empower the world’s creators. We are wholly committed to ensuring Tumblr evolves in a way that supports our current users while improving areas that attract new creators, artists, and users. You deserve a digital home that works for you. You deserve the best tools and features to connect with your communities on a platform that prioritizes the easy discoverability of high-quality content. This is an invigorating time for Tumblr, and we couldn’t be more excited about our current strategy.

Hmm, it's been a while since i posted Semi-Feral Polaroids nonsense..

We're all doomed.. @so-called-yokai's bird found a hoodie and has entered gremlin mode

This was more of a sketch than a finished art piece, but it has the right vibes lmfao

That is all

Have nice day

Idk man, this made perfect sense to me

Anyone else?

They're all high and making progressively less sense.

This is pure crack and it's hilarious

We Never Go Out Of Style

Could end in burning flames or paradise

Summary: When Gwyn breaks up with her boyfriend on the eve of Nesta's destination wedding, Nesta Archeron has only one objective: set Gwyn up with her high school crush.

Note: Based on this tweet from @heathermcwrites: "One of my bridesmaids just broke up with her bf who was supposed to come to my wedding & I was sad for her for about 3 seconds until I remembered that her crush will also be at the wedding (single) and I'm now more committed to this 2nd chance romance than to my own marriage."

"I should also note that this is a destination wedding so there are EVEN MORE opportunities for uh…shenanigans"

Read More: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | AO3

The shrill ringing of Gwyn’s phone dragged her from sleep. She twisted, peeling her cheek from Azriel’s naked chest, to fumble for the phone on her nightstand.

“I swear to God,” Azriel muttered, eyes still closed as she brought the bright screen towards her blinking face, “If it’s Jonathon, I’m going to commit a felony.”

It was Jonathon. Illuminated in the otherwise pitch black room, both her and Azriel stared for a moment. 

“I won’t—”

“Might as well,” he grumbled. “Tell him you’ve moved on.”

She scoffed. Moved on with who? Him? Still, Gwyn hit the green answer button, if only to beg him to stop calling her.

“What do you want?” she said by way of greeting as Azriel wrapped muscular arms tight against her. He burrowed his face into her hair, huffing out a breath of irritation. 

“What do I want? I want to talk to you–”

“It’s two in the fucking morning,” Azriel snarled, loud enough for Jonathon to stop what he was saying. Gwyn poked him hard in the stomach, forced out of bed to keep Azriel from saying anything else. Azriel watched, propped up on his elbows with an expression hidden in the darkness while she threw on her tank top and shorts from the night before. She didn’t need to see him to feel his disapproval. 

“Who was that?”

“Cassian,” Gwyn replied easily, apparently a practiced liar now. There was no way she was telling him she’d immediately jumped into bed with someone new. She knew exactly what Jonathon would say about that. How he’d twist things to make her the bad guy, telling all their friends she’d cheated on him or worse. “It is two in the morning. Can we talk about this later? Like when I’m home?” she added, pushing open the balcony door. The air was cool and breezy and perfect. She swallowed a breath of it, dropping into one of the wicker patio chairs and propping her feet up on the railing. 

“I want to talk now. It’s ten my time and all I can think about is how we left things.”

“Of course you want to talk,” she snapped, immediately irritated. “I had a nine hour flight and am exhausted, but since you’re awake, I should be too?”

“You’re putting words in my mouth, Gwyneth,” he snapped. “It’s ten your time, too, technically. I don’t know how you’re even still sleeping.”

“I just told you I was tired,” she retorted. What was she doing? The worlds hottest man was currently half asleep in her bed and she was sitting on a balcony arguing with her ex.

“Have you been working out? Did you go for—”

“Are you seriously asking me if I’ve gone to the gym?” Gwyn demanded as the glass door pushed open behind her. Az padded out in a clean pair of shorts, his handsome face twisting in a scowl. 

Hang up on him, Azriel mouthed, leaning against the balcony casually. 

“Sorry for worrying about you. I want to take care of you, Gwyn. I was thinking that you should tell Nesta you can’t do her wedding and come home so we can fix this—”

“I’m not coming home and there’s nothing to fix,” Gwyn interrupted snappishly. “I don’t want to do this anymore. I’m asking you to stop calling and texting me.”

“Because there’s someone else?” he demanded, picking a fight at the last possible second to keep her on the phone. It was his little trick and this time Gwyn wasn’t falling for it.

“Even if there was, it’s none of your business anymore. Stop calling me. I mean it. This is my best friends wedding. It has nothing to do with you.” And then she hung up before he could argue, silencing her phone just for good measure. He wouldn’t stop calling until he was given an answer that satisfied him. It was clear he meant to make this vacation all about him and if Gwyn wasn’t so worried he’d call Nesta and start more problems, she would have blocked him entirely.

Azriel offered her his full attention. “Did he really ask if you went to the gym?” His tone was dark and angry, like he was personally offended on her behalf. Men, she grumbled privately, rising from her chair.

“Like you wouldn’t worry the same,” she said, taking her irritation out on him. Azriel followed her back into the bedroom, closing the door behind them quietly.

“If you want to work out, I know just the thing,” he said, catching her from behind and pulling her into his body. One hand slid up her stomach to cup her breast, tugging at the nipple.

“Aren’t you wrung out?” she asked, thinking once again of Jonathon. Once was always enough, and good enough to wait several days in between. He thought constant fucking was pedestrian which had always bothered Gwyn, given her sex drive was pretty high. 

Azriel’s laugh was dark. “Hardly. It’s been four hours and I find I’m ravenous again.”

Jesus Christ he was so hot. Gwyn twisted in his hold, facing him in the dark.

“And if I did want to work out…how would you help?”

“I’d bounce you on my cock until you were breathless and coated in sweat,” he replied easily, nipping her earlobe with his teeth. “And then I’d flip you over and start again. Ass in the air, face in the pillow.”

Her legs were practically shaking while he pulled that tank top back over her head. Hands replaced the fabric, sliding up her skin to cup her breasts. 

“Is that all?” she asked breathlessly, arching into his touch. Azriel ground his cock against her ass, already erect. Tweaking at her nipple, he chuckled darkly.

“Not impressed? Tell me if I embarrass you.”

He gave her no time to offer a quippy response. Azriel’s hand wrapped around her throat as he turned her around, kissing her roughly while his fingers pressed against her windpipe. Gwyn didn’t think she’d ever been so wet in her life, and Azriel had barely touched her.

Settling between her legs, he rolled his hips, letting his erection rub between the fabric. It was what she needed, the friction lighting up her brain. She raked her fingers through his dark, thick hair, tugging at the strands until he groaned. Hardly unaffected, she thought smugly. There was something thrilling about whatever was happening between them. It was devoid of the usual awkwardness that came with dating—Azriel didn’t like her beyond her body, which meant Gwyn didn’t have to worry if he thought she was weird or too freaky or whatever other things got in her way. 

She could yank at his pants, demanding he reveal his gorgeous cock and he didn’t make her feel bad about it. He merely repaid the favor, all but ripping off her shorts before flipping them over so she could sink against the heavy, thick length of him. Gwyn exhaled a slow breath of relief, letting him fill her to the point of splitting. 

“Fuck,” he panted beneath her, hands holding her hips. “You’re so fucking tight.”

She didn’t care—men always said that. What Gwyn cared about was that first wet slide of his cock as he lifted her up only to yank her back down. He treated her carelessly, like she was something durable, something that didn’t break so easily. He fucked her the way she’d so often tried to get Jonathon to with little success. 

It made her like Azriel, in a weird way. Like he saw beyond whatever existed externally and just understood instinctively they wanted the same things. Or maybe Gwyn was merely projecting that long held crush and Azriel didn’t give a fuck whether she enjoyed herself or not, so long as she was.

“I’m going to fill you up and fuck you again,” he whispered, pulling her out of her thoughts. “Everyone’s going to think you’re jetlagged, but you’ll know, won’t you?” She whimpered, her tits bouncing in time with his vicious thrusts. She had her nails pressed so tight against his chest she might have drawn blood. 

He didn’t seem to care, if his bruising touch was any indication. Not when his thumb met the apex of her thighs, rubbing over her slick clit like he’d done in the bathroom. It was all so second nature to him, getting her off like it was his only pleasure in life. Gwyn had been half prepared to fake it, had already begun to before he started rubbing. Their eyes met and she realized he knew what she was up to.

“Not with me,” he growled. “If I’m doing something you don’t like, you need to tell me.”

“Okay,” she breathed, heart pounding in her throat. Had anyone ever been hotter before that moment? She didn’t think so. Not when she came around him with a soft cry and certainly not when he pulled her off him just as he’d promised to put her on her hands and knees.

The change in position made her toes curl, her body lock. Azriels cock was massive, thick enough it made her ache and long enough he was all but banging up against the natural barrier of her body. He wielded it not like a weapon despite each punching thrust, but like a tool meant to drag every inch of pleasure from her. 

And god it was working. Azriel wrapped her hair around his fist, arching her neck so he could squeeze again. Teeth scraped over her skin as he whispered, “Are you going to be my good girl and come for me again?”

She clenched hard around him, whining her assent. Gwyn, who had never once come from penetration alone, was writhing as the head of his cock slid over and over and over against some soft part of her pussy, touching as if it were his tongue against his clit.

She came with a strange, jerking violence, overwrought and too-sensitive.

“Please—”

“You’ll take what I give you,” he replied, too breathless to be truly believable. Gwyn buried her face in the bed, coming a third time as Azriel did for the first, groaning loudly as he pushed deep inside her. 

“Fuck me,” he whispered, sounding as if he’d just run a marathon. She looked at the clock on the nightstand, a holdover from a time where people didn’t carry phones in their pocket.

4:50.

She swallowed. It felt like five minutes. 

He pushed her into the bed, pulling out and unwrapping the condom she hadn’t even realized he’d been wearing. Hardly a positive sign, given she hadn’t even really known him for longer than a day.

“Want breakfast?” he whispered into the rapidly lightning dark, pulling her against his body when he collapsed to the bed. “I’m starving.”

“I have something you can eat,” she said without thinking about it. Azriel turned his head, grinning.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

By the time Gwyn and Azriel made their way out of the their shared suit, it was nearly eight in the morning. Azriel had gone down on her, taking his sweet ass time given she’d just come three times on his cock—and then again when she tried to shower, he’d fucked her up against the glass, massive hand wrapped around her slim throat. 

It seemed like they weren’t the only ones who’d been up all night having sex. Lucien Vanserra was staring absently at a wall, fork in hand. His broad chest was littered with teeth marks and his hair was suspiciously tangled, as if he’d just managed to get to the buffet–and it had been rough. Elain seemed fine, bright eyed and cheerful, talking to Arina Vanserra animatedly. 

Nesta, too, had that same lust fogged look Gwyn prayed she didn’t. 

Azriel peeled off to eat with Rhys, casual and unbothered. Like there was nothing strange between them. Like she hadn’t eaten her out until she all but saw God. It left Gwyn to drop beside Nesta and put her head on Nesta’s shoulder. 

“Sleep well?”

“Enough,” Gwyn agreed, wishing she could tell Nesta this. It was Nesta’s wedding and Gwyn would be damned if she fucked it up with her personal drama. She very much doubted Azriel, sitting with his back to her four tables away, wanted her to blab all about their very casual arrangement, besides.

“I got none. It’s like Cassian doesn’t need sleep,” Nesta grumbled, watching her fiance join Rhys and Azriel at their table. All three of them were shirtless and tattooed and had captured the attention of half the women in the room without ever meaning to. Both Gwyn and Nesta fell silent for a moment, drinking in the muscular forms of the men eating, totally oblivious that they were the object of a lot of different fantasies.

Gwyn hadn’t thought it was possible to feel any more arousal. Her pussy was all but bruised from Azriel’s attention and yet she still found herself imagining herself laid out before him, his own personal feast.

“I need to go into town,” Nesta told Gwyn, a frown on her face. “They are short some of the liquor we ordered. I don’t want to ask Eris for it, so–”

“I’ll go,” Gwyn said quickly. “Don’t worry about it. Just give me a list, I’ve got this covered.”

Nesta’s face collapsed with relief. “Really?”

“What good is your maid of honor if I let you run yourself ragged. Give me your list and then join Cassian out on the beach.”

Nesta nodded. “I’ll text it to you, Split it with Azriel, while you’re at it. I know Cassian won’t make him do anything but shots while we’re down here.”

Gwyn glanced back to Az, who turned his head, having caught them talking about him. “What’s his deal, anyway?” she asked when he turned back around.

Nesta was smiling, likely at Cassian though Gwyn was still staring at the bunching muscles in Azriel’s tattooed back. 

Nesta shrugged. “He’s just…Az. I don’t know how else to describe him. Why?”

God, Gwyn could never admit that her crush on Azriel was back in full force. Nesta would try and play matchmaker, and where would that leave Gwyn? Embarrassed. She bet Az had a line of women down the block, all waiting on him.

“He’s just quiet.”

“God, did he go in and immediately lock himself in his room?”

Hardly.

“Yeah,” she replied, unsure what else she could say. Certainly not that he’d been in bed with her all night. It didn’t matter. Gwyn’s phone rang shrilly, drawing Azriel’s attention back to her and Nesta’s attention away from Az. They both peered down at the screen.

“Jonathon?” Nesta asked. “What’s he want?”

Her heart pounded anxiously in her chest. There was no escaping him, not after this morning. She needed to just face the music.

“Send me your list,” Gwyn said, rising from her chair. She could feel Azriel’s eyes burning against her skin. “I’ll be back.”

Gwyn answered the phone just outside the hall. Warm, morning air slid over her skin as she said, “Hello?”

“Are you awake now, Gwyneth?” 

God, she thought she hated him in that moment. “Or should I try again in five hours?”

“You should stop calling,” she hissed, walking towards the massive courtyard where the fountain stood. “Like I’ve asked you repeatedly.”

“I need to talk to you. Is now a good time?”

“No!” she exclaimed angrily. “I’m trying to help Nesta with her wedding and yet somehow, I’m still worrying about you! You have managed to make this vacation all about you! What could you possibly—”

Her phone was pulled from her hand before she could finish. Azriel, shirtless, beautiful Azriel, put her phone to his ear.

“You don’t understand the word no?” he asked in that deep, dark voice of his. He didn’t wait for Jonathon to respond. “Let me explain. It means no. Don’t call her again.”

He hung up before Gwyn could warn him. Instead, she smacked him in his rock hard stomach. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I hate him,” Azriel replied smoothly. “And you’re too nice.”

“I don’t think either of them are good reasons,” she snapped. “He’s going to keep calling–”

“Might as well give him my number, then. He can beg me for a date.”

She looked up at him, drinking in his unwavering confidence with a mixture of awe and irritation. “I didn’t think he was your type.”

Azriel smirked. “You don’t know everything about me.”

“I don’t know anything about you,” she said with exasperation, yanking her phone back out of his hand. Already, she had a text from Jonathon.

I know that wasn’t Cassian. Are you seeing someone? 

She ignored it. “Are you asking to get to know me? You only have to ask.”

“Don’t do that again,” she warned. “You just cause problems.”

Azriel’s easy going smile slid off his face. “Fuck—I’m sorry.”

Gwyn stood there, blinded by the early morning sun, staring up at him. She was waiting for him to qualify that apology, to offer some excuse. Instead, Azriel waited to see if she’d forgive him. 

Gwyn blinked. “It’s fine. You were trying to help.”

“Don’t be so easy on me,” he murmured, his eyes so uncomfortably soft. Like he liked her. Gwyn was projecting and she knew it would only get hurt if she couldn’t find something wrong with him. 

“You want to help? Nesta has a list of things she needs done. You could help me with that.”

Azriel grinned.

“Hand it over.”

AZRIEL:

Azriel had told Gwyn to meet him in front of the resort but he hadn’t told her why. She found out that evening, stepping out of the sliding glass doors with wide, teal eyes. She was so fucking pretty it made his chest ache. It had been a day running around and checking on their venue, harassing Eris Vanserra while he tried to feel up his wife, and a bunch of other little tasks he didn’t care about.

What he cared about was the red haired woman doing it with him. Gwyn was filled with information about Nesta—and occasionally Cassian—and if he was careful, would tell him about her, too. Nothing deep—she taught history at Velaris University, which Azriel had thought was a pretty nice university, though he didn’t dare ask. She’d told him about her syllabus, as if Azriel knew jack shit about antiquity.

He bet she would have told him if he’d asked, though. Gwyn was very clearly passionate about history. He liked that more than he was willing to admit. Every girl he spent significant time with wanted to talk about was her socials and what she did to maintain them. He knew Gwyn had an instagram because he’d started following her that afternoon, but it was hardly curated and he knew she wasn’t making money off it.

She halted, letting him check her out in her short shorts and her white top that revealed fair skin every time she took a breath. Her hair spilled over her shoulders, catching copper in the bright sunlight.

“What is that?” she asked. Azriel looked down at the motorcycle he’d managed to dig out, spending far too much money hoping to impress her. He couldn’t tell if it was working.

“It’s a bike,” he replied, working hard to make himself sound casual and cool when in truth he felt nervous as fuck. “You coming still?”

“On that?”

He looked back and the sleek black and red bike sitting silent just behind before offering her up a helmet. “Do you want to walk?”

“No, but…” she bit her bottom lip. “Is it safe?”

“It is if I’m driving it. I can drive anything,” he added, bragging just a little. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

She hesitated, fingers twitching before she took that helmet. Azriel caught her hand.  

“Trust me,” he added softly. 

Magic words. Gwyn nodded, jamming that helmet onto her head with a smile. “If we die, I’m going to haunt you.”

“I’ll be dead, too,” he reminded her. “So we’ll just be hanging out in the after-life.”

She wrapped her arms around his torso, poking him in the side. “I’ll make you miserable for all eternity, then.”

“You could try,” he replied, revving the engine to life. It was so loud, the smoke from the back nearly choking them both and yet she was on that seat, pressed tight against him and that was all he’d wanted. An excuse to touch her without being obvious. 

They left the resort behind and Azriel showed off just a little, weaving in and out of traffic like it was nothing, if only to feel her hold him tighter. He knew he was down bad, that he needed to get himself together before he did something utterly foolish.

But fuck, when was the last time anyone had made him feel like this? Giddy and happy, like he had literal butterflies living in his gut? It was his endless problem—he always fell too hard, too fast. She was still dealing with her ex and he was trying to figure out how to convince her he was worth her time.

The island was bigger than he’d thought and built on a steep, long-dominant volcanic slope. As they rode into the dusky evening, they passed a winery Azriel very much intended to bring her back to just as soon as he had a good enough reason to do so. They passed farmers herding sheep before they were back in the main city, if it could even be called that. No time seemed to have passed, except for the people on the cobblestone streets that moved about in jeans and cotton blends. Azriel nearly crashed, craning his neck to look up at the spire tower of massive black church set in the middle of the city square, momentarily awed by the construction.

He wasn’t the only one. He could feel Gwyn twisting this way and that, looking at the terracotta houses and the vibrant awnings hanging in front of restaurants that were likely centuries old. He was pleased to have brought her, even if they were trying to use Vanserra’s money to place a very expensive order of champagne. 

He cut the engine in front of the vendor, pulling his helmet off with what he hoped was elegant grace Gwyn hopped off, too, flipping her hair out of the helmet carelessly. His cock immediately stirred to life, the image branded in his brain. Her bright, happy smile soothed that wildness and dragged him back to reality.

“That was fun,” she breathed, pressing a hand to his chest. He caught her wrist, pulling her in for a soft kiss. 

“You should see me in the states, if you liked that,” he breathed, too stupid for his own good. Gwyn didn’t flinch away, didn’t do anything but look up at him with those ocean blue eyes.

“Yeah? I think I might like that.”

He could have floated away. He kissed her again, slowly–like he had the right to. “I’ll hold you to that,” he murmured, releasing her despite every instinct begging him not to. 

She smiled and when he put his hand on her shoulder, guiding her into the old building, Gwyn didn’t pull away. They looked like lovers, like they’d come not because their two best friends had accidentally fallen in love, but because they’d fallen in love.

He wanted that reality so badly it made his teeth ache. 

The owner spoke decent English which was lucky given neither he nor Gwyn spoke a word of Italian. Negotiations seemed to move smoother when Azriel pulled out the car Eris had given them and slid it over an mahogany counter. Gwyn had written out the number of cases of champagne Nesta wanted and google translate helped them with the rest. They’d offered up the address, but Azriel suspected he and Rhys might have to come back, maybe with the younger Vanserra, to carry cases of liquor into a rental van. 

“Want to get dinner?” he asked her impulsively when they finished, high on both his success and spending an evening in Italy with the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Gwyn looked around, pointing just down the street to a patio illuminated by hanging string lights.

It was romantic as shit. That was Azriel’s real problem. He had no idea how to wine and dine a woman outside of the bedroom. His good looks did most of the work for him, maybe a shallow thing to admit given Gwyn had such an interesting personality. She’d worked for it and Az…well, he had his six pack, didn’t he? 

They settled in an outdoor patio, sitting across from one another and surveying the menu. It was helpfully in English and Italian. She ordered pasta.

Azriel ordered a pizza. He couldn’t help himself. When in Rome, right? 

“So,” Gwyn began, lips pressed to a glass of wine. “What happened after school?”

He held his own glass in his hand. “What do you mean?”

“Rhys and Cassian went to college,” she began, unaware of his stomach immediately began to sink. Here it was. All the reasons he wasn’t right for her, starting with that diploma. He’d heard it all before. “And you were on the soccer team with Lucien, weren’t you?”

He scoffed. “I was good but Vanserra was…” 

He could begrudgingly admit Vanserra was great. Gwyn took a drink, waiting for him to respond. Azriel took a breath, swallowing the urge to snap at her. 

“My mom got sick,” he admitted. “And I’m good with cars. I meant to go, but after a year at the shop I figured what was the point? I was already doing what I liked and a degree wasn’t going to change that.”

“How many shops do you have?” she asked, catching him by surprise. Interest shone in those teal eyes and Azriel, so used to women trying to cajole him into feeling bad about skipping out on a mountain of debt for a business degree, didn’t respond immediately.

“Four. Five, if we keep up our metrics through the year.”

“That’s incredible,” she breathed. “You must be so proud.”

He was. Azriel nodded, certain he must look like a cartoon character with its heart beating outside its chest. Could she see it? Azriel was so fucked, saved only by a waiter dropping off their food. 

Gwyn took a bite of her food, noodles wrapped around a fork. Her eyes fluttered shut and Azriel had to cross his legs to keep his cock from stirring to life. 

“Taste good?” he asked, leaning forward on his elbows breathlessly. He didn’t even realize he’d put himself in his pizza, staining the sleeve of his shirt, until her eyes snagged on the mistake.

He wasn’t embarrassed.

“How do you do that?” she asked him curiously.

“Do what?” he replied, thinking she meant his careless actions.

“Make everything so unspeakably hot?”

Oh. 

“You think my elbow in sauce is unspeakably hot?” he teased. 

“No, that was dorky as fuck. Thank you for reminding me you’re still a mere mortal. I meant the way you talk.” 

He waited expectantly for her to follow that up.

Gwyn sighed. “Taste good?” She mimicked his voice, trying to sound sultry while making him sound like a serial killer. Azriel laughed, head thrown back.

Gwyn crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, it’s not exactly like that.”

Azriel couldn’t smother his smile as he leaned forward again, this time avoiding his food which he very much intended to eat just as soon as she stopped being so unbearably cute. 

“For the record,” he said softly, catching the way she shivered despite the warmth. “You taste incredible.”

“Jesus Christ,” she whispered. “We’re in public, Az.”

“Eat your dinner, Gwyn, so I can eat mine.”

She narrowed her eyes but Azriel was satisfied. He’d eat his food.

And then he’d eat her. 

dolls. do not separate.

Things I can't stand part 2:

Those "pro-life" people who are actually just pro birth.

We're expected to reach carrying capacity by around 2030.

Some children just should not be born. Look at the state of the world, and a lot of people get abortions because they know that they do not have what it takes to have a child (money, a job, housing, any way to support another life).

If that child turns out to be gay, disabled, mentally ill, etc, then their life doesn't become so valuable to you "people" now does it?

Why do people even care about a procedure that a woman decides to get done? Yet y'all don't care about gun regulations, police brutality, or the genuinely shitty people out there.

If getting an abortion is murder, then men are quite the serial killers after they bust a nut.

In conclusion:

Thinking about them but like. Domestically. Like could u imagine actually

44 & 49 with Jin? Either him or the reader is completely oblivious to the other one being head over heals for them? Maybe? 🙈💜

hi bestie i am so happy you requested jin! i have so many fics lined up to write for him that i haven't gotten to yet and this is the perfect chance to give him some love. here is a little bit of pining and some idiots to lovers for you - i hope you enjoy!

☾ Pairing: Seokjin x reader

☾ Summary: You’ve been in love with your best friend Jin for as long as you can remember. You know everything about him – except that he is also entirely in love with you.  

☾ Word Count:  2,333

☾ Genre: Best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Light pining, fear of rejection, reader tries to gaslight Jin for 2 seconds about feelings, they're down bad for one another and are very dumb about it, recreational drinking, some explicit language

☾ Published: September 9, 2022

☾ A/N: This is me virtually kissing @here2bbtstrash for reading everything I write and making sure I don't post things with words that don't make sense and accidentally split heads open in the middle of scenes due to typos

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask

“That isn’t yours,” Seokjin tuts, grabbing the ciders out of Taehyung’s hands and returning them to the fridge. The younger boy lets out a whine, making grabby hands at the drinks that Seokjin has confiscated. “Nope. Those are not for you.”

“It’s a party!” Taehyung protests loudly over the noise spilling from the living room into the kitchen. You smirk as you finish the last of your cider, tossing it into the rapidly-filling trashcan with a loud clink. “You can’t just reserve drinks! Who are they for?”

“Me,” you answer, crossing the space and opening the fridge. Seokjin leans on the counter next to you, smirking down at you. “Jin’s house rules.”

“His house rules only apply to you and it isn’t fair.”

You close the fridge, new bottle in hand. The glass is cold against your hand as you struggle to twist the top off. You grit your teeth, palm squeezing on the cap as you twist the bottle, but it spins, too much condensation built up to get a good grip.

Seokjin wordlessly grabs the bottle from you. You drop your hands as he pulls his sleeves down over his large hands to protect his skin from the twist-off. He pops the top immediately, a hiss sliding through the gap as he tosses the lid in the trash.

You shoot him a smile, ignoring the flutter in your stomach. Of course he can pop the top easily. Not only is Seokjin much taller than you, but he’s been actively hitting the gym lately. Though it’s hard to tell under the cornflower blue sweater hugging his broad shoulders and his narrow waist, his arms have gained a lot more definition.

Not that you’ve noticed.

As Seokjin’s best friend it’s your job not to notice stuff like that. But maybe you do anyway because it’s difficult to ignore the way his dark eyes crinkle at the edges when he gives you the bottle and you murmur a shy thank you. it’s hard to miss the way his fingers brush against yours, heating you from the inside out.

Chugging a bit of the cool, fruity cider does minimal damage control to cool you off. While you struggle to form a coherent thought, still flustered by the way Seokjin does things for you without asking and the way he smiles at you when you show gratitude, he’s already back to arguing with Taehyung about the special liberties that he gives you in his house.

It means nothing – at least not to Seokjin. You’ve always had special permission like eating food on the couch and being able to control what’s playing on Netflix or interrupting his gaming sessions when most of your friends are strictly prohibited from doing it.

You’ve been Seokjin’s number one friend since middle school, though. That’s bound to come with a few perks, especially at his drinking parties but most importantly, his dinner parties. It comes along with being close friends – you’re only awarded the specialty for being his longest friend.

It’s that simple.

You move to settle somewhere else in the kitchen – it seems to be where your closest friends have settled – but Seokjin grabs you by the waist, reeling you in like the fish you watch him catch every Sunday. He settles you in next to him, arm pressed against yours as he asks Yoongi a question about work.

Warmth blooms in you, spreading like the unfolding petals of a lotus. You know it’s not the drink, though you wish it was. You sip the cider, thankful that he’s not looking at you to see the way you put a tiny bit of space between you. The way that you avert your eyes toward the ceiling as you tip the bottle back.

Seokjin has always been really good at reading you. Yesterday he spoke to you for five minutes on the phone after work and by the time you got to your apartment and shucked your shoes off, there was a knock on the door.

He had ordered your favorite delivery to you without saying anything.

There are countless other moments like that: Seokjin sliding into a place next to you at a bar when someone is talking to you that you’re not comfortable with. Showing up at work happy hours to join you and get to know your coworkers. Reminding you of events for friends and work that you mentioned to him. Stocking your favorite cider in his fridge for a party because he knew you would forget.

You’re grateful for all of the ways he fits into your life. But for all the ease that being his friend brings, you’ve been struggling for years to figure out how to hide the way you feel. Your crush that started as a teen has spiraled into something more. Into something worse.

Because you are undoubtedly in love with him. You have been for a long time. But being his romantic partner has never been your role or even an option for you. So you shove it down like the trash at the bottom of the can Yoongi is stomping his foot into to make more room before changing the liner. You pretend it doesn’t exist like Jimin pretends Jungkook didn’t spill red wine on his white, cashmere sweater.

It's easier that way. It’s safer that way. And you know that when Seokjin leans around you, chest pressed against yours to open the fridge and pluck another beer from the shelf, it’s because he’s comfortable enough with you to invade your space. Knows he has permission to. It’s not to be nearer. Not to get a soft breath of scent that is… undoubtedly Seokjin, a mix of vanilla and something smoky with a touch of the spearmint gum he likes to chew.

You float through the party, enjoying yourself. A few drinks in and you feel warm, not enough to be drunk but the soft mellow before buzzed. You’re curled against the arm of the couch, feet pulled up as you listen to Yoongi tell you about his new project that he’s working on when you feel someone drop themselves next to you.

It’s easy to know it’s Seokjin without looking, so you keep your attention on Yoongi even though you smell the vanilla and spice. Seokjin puts his arm along the back of the couch, close enough that your spine twitches and you sit up a little bit, but far enough that you’re not exactly touching.

To anyone else that doesn’t know you, you wonder if it looks like you’re together. Thighs pressed against his, arm looped lazily in your space, shoulder dipping lightly against yours as he leans his head against the wall, pink-cheeked and smiling at something Taehyung is saying across the coffee table.

Yoongi is talking but you’re hearing nothing he is saying. Your heart is pounding, despite the fact you have been in this position next to Seokjin a hundred times. A thousand. Maybe more. But you smell him a little too strong this time and he’s just a little closer.

Heat creeps from your chest to your throat. Spreads through your face. You can feel how warm you are and before you know what you’re doing, you’re getting up and excusing yourself, thundering up his stairs and letting yourself into his room in search of the balcony.

The smell of Seokjin hits you immediately. His room is dark and warm. Soft grey bed sheets tidied on his bed, a gaming desk shoved in the corner with the mouse glittering a pattern of rainbow LEDs, a door leading to a bathroom where you smell a wax melt burning. But overall it just smells like him – a little musky, a little like vanilla, a pinch of spice.

Autumn air hits you when you step outside. You immediately notice that you left a pair of sandals on the balcony, making you smile.

You lean on the rail, blowing a long breath out. Inhaling a long one in. The metal stings against overly-warm flesh. It chases away the anxiety back to a place deep in the pit of your stomach where you can manage it for the rest of the night.

Another deep breath soothes your senses. You can faintly hear the party from the glowing window beneath the balcony. Closing your eyes, you tilt your head up to the night sky, letting the cool wind kiss your cheeks and the beads of sweat collected on your temples.

When the door behind you slides open, you grip the rail a little tighter, but you don’t open your eyes to turn around. You smell him – feel his shadow as he leans on the rail and yawns. You imagine he stretches like a cat, long-limbed reach toward the sky before rolling his broad shoulders.

You know every movement, every sound, every thought, every breath.

“What’s wrong?” You dread the question when you hear him ask. You hum in response, the sound upturned on the end in a question. “I feel like I’ve been chasing you all night.”

“How so?”

“You skirted around me when you came over today. You were like a polarly charged magnet in the kitchen, shifting the opposite way of me until I made you stand next to me. And I sat down on the couch for a total of five minutes before you made your great escape again.”

“I think you’re imagining things. I just needed some fresh air.”

“Don’t do that.” His serious tone makes you open your eyes in surprise, looking at him. His dark gaze is focused on you. There’s no high-pitched laughter now. No crinkling eyes or hand hovering over his mouth as he giggles. “That isn’t fair to me. I’m not imagining that.”

“You’re right, sorry. I just…” Metal bites into your hands as you clutch the railing and chew on your thoughts a bit more. “Stressed. Feeling a bit off.”

“You’ve been a bit off for a while now. Did I… do something wrong?”

“What? No. Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know, it’s like you won’t… you won’t let me close to you anymore.”

You frown. “I didn’t realize I was doing that, I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intention.”

His dark eyes are searching for something. You squirm under his gaze, worried that he’ll dig out your greatest secret. So you avert your eyes to look at the moon, even as he continues to stare. “Are you – are you pushing me away because you know?”

Your brows pinch. Lips turned down. Glancing from the corner of your eye, you ask “Know what?”

“Like-“ Seokjin sighs and runs a hand through his dark hair. Your eyes linger, missing the way he struggles with his words for a moment as you’re distracted by the way the silver moonlight paints his skin. He looks beautiful – he has always been beautiful. “Like do you know how I feel about you? Is that… why you’ve been weird?”

Your world flips upside down. You turn to face Seokjin fully, your heart seizing in your chest as your mind catches up to his words. You’re about to snap at him, about to demand that he take it back because teasing you isn’t okay – but you see his face.

Seokjin stands with his hands loosely at his sides, eyes soft and round. Face open, vulnerable. You stare and stare and stare, your lips parted slightly as you blink and shake your head.

Like do you know how I feel about you?

It could mean a million things.

“What do you mean?”

For a moment, he’s silent as he scrutinizes you. Then, he laughs the sound surprising you. “You really have no idea do you? Holy fuck, Yoongi was right. Everyone sees it but you.”

“I don’t… follow.”

“I am so in love with you it’s stupid.”

Seokjin’s words hang suspended in the air like the stars above your head. Your breath quickens and your mind begins to race in time with your heart, a manic symphony. “You’re what?”

“I thought maybe you knew and you were trying not to hurt my feelings.”

“Jin – I – no I didn’t know, how could I know?”

“I don’t know, I thought it was just… obvious. I’ve felt this way for a long time. I’m all yours – I just thought you knew. You don’t have to love me back, I just-“

You don’t remember deciding to kiss him. One moment you’re standing in front of him, breathing in the night air through soft gasps, and the next your fingers are wrapped in the soft cotton of his sweater, pulling him in closer as you stand on the tips of your toes to press your lips into his.

Seokjin’s mouth is warm and petal-soft, a breath of surprise turning into a soft hum. His movements are in rhythm with yours, placing his hands on your hips and squeezing as he pulls you a little closer, opening your mouth a little more with his.

The world spins as he kisses you. He tastes like sweet cider with a hint of his gum, lips soft and slow as he licks into your mouth. Kissing Seokjin is everything you’ve dreamed of and nothing you prepared for, the breath leaving your lungs as you give up air to keep kissing him, to keep pressing into him.

When your lungs are screaming and it feels like your heart might explode from his admission, you pull away slightly, eyes closed, chest heaving. You stay like that, the warmth of Seokjin’s chest against your balled fists and the firmness of his fingers, imprinting on your skin and your memory.

“I… so you feel the same way?” Seokjin asks, a little nervous, voice a little hoarse. “Or was that an apologetic kiss? If so, I’d like to file a list of complaints so you can apologize more.”

Your laugh is reedy and light. “I love you too,” you admitted. “Give me the list of complaints. I’d like to keep apologizing.

Prompt 41

A mage (yes I know I love making mage villains of the week, but if they didn't want me to make them all the time, they shouldn't be so fun and full of opportunities) puts a spell on Geralt while he's on a hunt. He can only speak lies / the complete opposite of what he feels or means to say, and the only way to break the spell is to reveal his darkest secret. This is all well and good and easily fixable, presumably. The best part is Jaskier has caught on near immediately to what the curse is, and is able to translate all of Geralt's lies and antonyms. "I don't need more supplies for potions." "We'll go looking for a greenhouse or whatever you need, then." "I hate this song." "Why thank you, Geralt! How lovely to know that opinion is a lie!" "Can I braid your hair again?" "Never." "Perfect!~" Except for the times he pretends to forget the curse's existence. "Feed Roach all the apples you want." "Oh, I shall! Thank you for the permission!" He did not give permission. Geralt just deals with the curse for a month or two, before being fed up and deciding to just trust the mage's so-called cure for the curse, and says his darkest secret. That he's in love with Jaskier. However, he's neglected to find a way to explain the cure to Jaskier, and now Jaskier just assumes he's heard another lie / complete opposite. Jaskier is heartbroken, assuming Geralt must dislike him at the least, and hate him at the worst, and suddenly all those teasing comments over the years are seen in a new worrying light. I mean, Geralt, cursed to say the exact opposite of what he means telling Jaskier that he loves him? Jaskier races away from their shared room and gets absolutely wasted in a tavern all the way across town. Geralt paces and panics alone in their shared room for a few hours before going and returning his bard back home. He now has to spend the entire night internally-writing and rehearsing his big explanation speech and apologize to his bard for the miscommunication.

The best way I can describe how I ship radioapple is “intimacy through hatred”

They hate each other, they never stop hating each other, but they grow so used to each other that they look like they’re dating from an outsider’s perspective

Lucifer knows Alastor hates being touched, so he keeps putting his arm around him and finding any excuse to invade Al’s personal space

Knowing that Lucifer hates his opinion, Alastor goes out of his way to advise the King of Hell on all his problems. Lucifer especially hates it when it’s actually good advice, and has no choice but to accept it

They both enjoy pissing each other off so much that they can often be found laughing together, and everyone thinks they’re just having fun

Luci once insulted Alastor's culinary skills, and it somehow lead to them starting a cooking competition to see who was the better cook. It's been ongoing for years because they keep trying to poison the other, so they're never able to declare a winner

Everyone is super confused about their relationship, and insist that they're actually in love and just living in denial, but they do really hate each other, they just can’t explain it in a way that makes sense

If arthur and merlin got married, i'm pretty sure merlin's sense of fashion would be the same. Maybe he'd trade in clothes with better material but his style would be the same. So, he doesn't really look like a king or a nobleman but more of a neckerchief wearing merchant.

So, what if arthur had this alliance meeting with some queen and merlin just strolls in late. He sits on the seat that arthur kept ready for him and the queen thinks: woah who does this neckerchief guy think he is?

While arthur is like: meRliN, you're latE

Merlin with bitchface #63: I was at the tavern ( code word for I was out keeping your fat ass and the kingdom safe from evil magic users.

Arthur then gives this functional-you better not be hurt-once-over of merlin and turns to their guest and says: this is my husband, Merlin

And the queen looks over to this apparently day drinking, neckerchief wearing king who seems quiet and reserved but genuine with his little hello.

I love this . I fucking love this

This is canon yall✌

Kusa is killing me rn

Hak clinging to hope about Soo won this ch just ruined me because this whole arc, it was the same for Soo won too.

It was not guilt, but ultimately hope that undid him. You could see him cracking, tangibly feel the desperate hope seeping in, while he himself was completely unconscious and unaware of it.

It starts when his guard was already down from his illness, from facing the war he feared and dreamed of the most, from seeing Hak everywhere, from Yona forcing him to face her and his complicated feelings about hiryuu

He was screaming

but she goes on

Reminding him exactly of everything he wants shut out and away.

It gets to him, the wall starts to crack.

Then he hears Hak is willing to help him after everything

And it starts to seep in, something else besides guilt, something like hope.

Then Hak goes missing, and amid his fear and anxiousness, he sees Yona crying desperately

The cracks are bigger and bigger, until the seal literally breaks

and his heart is on the surface, bare and vulnerable.

It all built up to him genuinely losing his walls and lowering his guard to the point that when Yona told him she would help

He actually allowed himself to hope, just briefly, just slightly, hope that maybe her willingness to help after everything he has done means that something, anything, could be undone.

But no

She is leaving

She and Hak will never be by his side after all

He knows it.

He knows, and yet

You bring her with you. Yes, you should have known better. You who genuinely believes the dragons are not needed, who believes Yona is influenced by her father, you of all people should have known better, so why did you? what do you want and expect? to be justified, understood, or forgiven? 

You who should have easily picked on her reasons for helping you, should have known it was to keep a politically unified front

Yet you make it personal, because the hope you have been feverishly resisting is all what you can see now.

So tell me, you who were uncontrollably and desperately hoping for the smallest things now, tell me

How does it feel?

i love listening to fun music that i can envision scenarios to about coming of age with the person you’ve fallen in love with. the only problem is i always envision the people in these scenarios to be jens and lucas and i cry because can you imagine a skam spin off with the both of them? :,)