-Update on my gradual descent into coffee-drinking: Due to lack of resources and need for sleep-substitute, I drank a large cup of coffee with minimal creamer. I was able to finish the whole drink without being overly disgusted. I am more upset with myself than the coffee at this point.
-An older woman began raving about how nice it was of me to scan a coupon for her. She had been cordial enough before, but she suddenly dropped her conversational tone, looked me directly in the eye, and told me that something good would happen to me today. I feel that I may have been blessed by a benevolent witch today and I hope to see how this pans out.
-Upon checking a woman’s ID, I found that her name was Sandrade. You know, like Sandra Dee, except wrong.
-I stumbled across evidence of several gift card having been shoplifted. I have no problem with this crime and, in fact, wish whoever took them a long and happy life surrounded by their newfound unactivated scraps of plastic.
-A magazine at my lane posed the philosophical question, “What if your boobs could talk?” I did not care enough to pick it up and read it myself, but I can assume it simply outlined the only possible conversation: “Who said that? What the hell? My boobs can talk? Have my nipples been small mouths all along? Quite down down there!” This entire exchange would naturally take place in a hastily-called Uber on the way to a mastectomy clinic.
-I had never considered this to be necessary, but I would now like to formally request that you do not hurriedly approach a cashier with one hand firmly buried in your pocket and a menacing look on your face.
-I have come to the realization that the entire brand of humor I use for my Target stories is essentially just John Mulaney’s stand-up specials. Apparently, everyone already knew this. I am far from upset about this discovery.
-I find that there is a direct correlation between days in which I drink coffee and days in which I have my most entertaining stories.
-I sold someone a book with a battery pack in the back. I do not know why this book needs batteries, but the future is here, and it is incredible.
-Yesterday, a bookshelf rang up as a a box of baby diapers. After three attempts, it deleted the entire transaction. Today, a box of cooking utensils rang up as a wedding registry. There is a conspiracy afoot with no clear endgame, but I will not let my guard down.
-I heard the cashier at the cafe call out an order, “Pepperoni breadsticks!” For the brief moment before I realized it was a combo, I was thrilled to believe that my letter-writing campaign to Pizza Hut had worked out and the menu was finally being expanded.
poe gets sent on a classified mission and no one can tell finn where he is or how he’s doing. he’s been gone a week when the general finds finn in the resistance archives, trying to distract himself with old holovids, and his heart starts pounding at her grim expression. leia tells him they’ve lost contact with poe and that he was supposed to return two days ago. her voice is level but very soft as she delivers the news, and finn wonders if she sees herself in him in that moment.
three days go by and finn can’t even think. everything is gray, and if poe’s pilot friend jessika wasn’t making sure of it finn wouldn’t have been eating. he lies awake on the left side of their bed the first two nights, half-mad with sleepless grief, and the third night he sinks into restless dreams of his former squadron and zero, the trooper who died in his arms. he wakes up disoriented and sweating in the dark room and cries out when a hand lands on his arm.
“shh, shh. i’ve got you.”
the whisper is very gentle and finn is frozen for a moment before tackling poe into the bed with a desperate hug, burying his face in his neck. poe’s familiar scent is bliss, and finn lets go.
“i-i thought you were dead, poe. i thought y-you were gone.” finn chokes on his words, clinging even tighter to his boyfriend, and poe strokes the back of his head.
“you really think i could leave you, finn? nah. never.” poe’s murmur is fierce as he tightens his arms around finn.
and finn, weak with relief, finally sinks into a dreamless sleep as poe hums a lullaby into his ear.
in other news, I am disgusted with myself for ever thinking that Gilmore was a wizard rather than a sorcerer. Wizards’ main stat is Int: Sorcerers use Charisma. Ain’t no way that charismatic sumbitch coulda been anything else.
I’ve always been an advocate for ppl here to not listen to dumb hate and enjoy what they enjoy, because why would a strangers opinion matter, right? But. You know what. It’s getting really, really tiring. I can’t search for fanart without reading how disgusting I am and how I should kill myself every second or third post.. and it’s more than just hurtful. It’s getting to people. I know I probably won’t change anyone’s thinking with this, but I had this big urge to write about it. I’m just sad we can’t be more compassionate towards each other…
Warnings: Master/Pet dynamic kinda, language, smut, bondage, choking, seriously I am disgusted with myself, Mrs. Weasley would send me a Howler for this
A/N: ITS FINALLY HEEEERRREEE!!! I’m super proud of this, okay. It’s my first smut, so don’t judge me too harshly XD. Tagging @25daysofchrismuts bc yas. Also @screamersdontdance and @actualamyautopsy bc they’re thirsty hoes, like myself. AND @hardcorewwetrash BC YOU HAVE WAITED LONG ENOUGH GIRL. Anyway. Enjoy yourselves, bitches. ROUGH LUNATIC SEXY TIMES, JUST IN TIME FOR CHRISTMAAS. Hope nobody minds that there’s no Christmas references in here…I tried.
I… really like Overlord… it’s such a good show it’s all I’ve ever wanted out of an anime… I love all of the characters and it’s hard for me to pick a favorite (besides Ainz ofc) but here are some I like a lot!!
I just read Killing Stalking and I can’t help but ‘ship’ (feels like I’m using the wrong word here) Sangwoo and Yobum. I feel so sick with myself for liking them together (in the nice moments, not the bad). It’s like those intrusive thoughts that you have but don’t want. Like murder thoughts but you’re absolutely disgusted with yourself and you like, even start fearing yourself. But yeah…
step one: tell yourself that you’re only there for the sibling relationship because they just care about each other so much and vigorously try to ignore the romantic overtones. this isn’t weird, right??? yeah. right
step two: question your entire life and all the decisions you’ve made that led you to the point of shipping siBLINGS what the fuck
step three: admit defeat and descend into hell with these two. it’s too late. you’re in for life now. i t ‘ s t o o l a t e