YOU KNOW WHAT

8

This is a Muslim home. Why does Anubis hold out his hand for me?

It is my thanks. You were once a girl with your own tita who taught you the ways of Egypt old. Of when the Nile was full and flooded. She told you stories of the wolf and the jackal, the red wind and of the child of Bast.

I remember.

You do. And for that I bring you to the scales.

2

👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀 good shit go౦ԁ sHit👌 thats ✔ some good👌👌shit right👌👌there👌👌👌 right✔there ✔✔if i do ƽaү so my self 💯 i say so 💯 thats what im talking about right there right there (chorus: ʳᶦᵍʰᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ) mMMMMᎷМ💯 👌👌 👌НO0ОଠOOOOOОଠଠOoooᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒ👌 👌👌 👌 💯 👌 👀 👀 👀 👌👌Good shit

8

jack ———– H E L P !!!

You know what, I’m afraid. Afraid to lose you right here and now, afraid to never fall in love again, afraid to never forget you, afraid to always compare your lips to those who I kiss, afraid to give anything, or maybe even everything, just so I could be with you.
—  P.G.G

okay but what about tater hanging around bitty and they become good friends and taters over at jacks often for dinner or just hanging out. he was close to jack before he came out, he gets closer after.

maybe bitty looks down at his phone fondly, staring at the group chat with jack and tater and he finds himself thinking these boys

maybe jack comes home from a run and he has a serious face on and when he kisses bitty he’s distracted and it’s not until after his shower that he asks bitty if he could make a Russian pastry and bitty is delighted at the idea of maybe making his friend feel less alone

maybe taters invited to family skate at samwell and you’d have to be blind to miss the way the three of them gravitate around each other

maybe taters parents come to a game and tater excitedly introduces them to jack and bitty.

maybe bitty makes dinner and taters over and jacks sitting at the counter and taters helping bitty get drinks and when tater turns around, bitty presses close to his front and leans up, tippy-toeing it to kiss tater softly on the corner of his mouth and when tater looks up, wide eyed and startled, jacks just watching the two of them with heart eyes and a faint blush on his cheeks and bittys already moving away to the table

I. I think somewhere along the way my hands got tired of writing this same story over and over again. It always say: HE LEFT AGAIN AND IT PUTS ME IN PAIN.

II. I can’t really remember the beginning. Was I happy? Was I really that happy that I kept begging for it again? Was it worth the pain? I can’t even remember the happy times. What the fuck.

III. Even all my friends got tired of listening about you. They said: YOU ALWAYS GOING ABOUT HIM AND HIM AND HIM—BUT THE END IS JUST THE SAME—NOTHING CHANGED—HE’S STILL NOT YOURS

IV. So instead of you another guy drives me home through the rain. He don’t add up to you but he’s here. He’s here. He’s here and you’re not. I should really to get used to this.

V. He wanted me to stop mentioning your name. Maybe I should.

VI. Come back? Please? One last time? It’s only three months. Come back? Because I think I’ve gotten used to not being with you. Because I think that’s not something I want to get used to.

—  hazyaffection // THERE’S SOMETHING HORRIBLY WRONG ABOUT THIS, SOMETHING HORRIBLY TOXIC