Straight White Boy Problem #881

tried to text my bro “no homo” and it autocorrected to “no home” so now my bro is making fun of me for being gay and homeless i seriously cant deal with this while watching football i want to throw my iphone at the wall

  • what she says: yeah don't worry about me, I'm fine
  • what she means: I just want to be loved like Percy loves Annabeth or how Grover loves Juniper or how they all care about each other even if something goes wrong aka Luke Castellan we don't even care about people anymore it's just us saying "I want the iPhone 7 but my parents said no so they suck." We can't even love each other, I want be to be loved, I NEED to be loved, we all do, just once I want to be like a perfect person in a perfect world, but sadly it's not possible in the real world nor fictional world
Κάθε βραδυ ειμαι έτοιμος να σου στείλω μήνυμα και να σου πω το ποσο πολυ σε αγαπαω,το ποσο πολυ μου λείπεις,το ποσο άδειος νιώθω τωρα που δεν μιλάμε πλέον…αλλα παντα κατι με σταματάει,η αξιοπρέπεια;!,το οτι δεν θελω να σε κουράσω;! Πάντως εγωισμός δεν ειναι ! Λείπεις μωρο μ …και αυτό πονάει !
—  Σε αγαπαω τοσο πολυ !

anonymous asked:

Time In A Bottle by Jim Croce - Quicktaser ♥♥♥

Time in a Bottle - Jim Croce

A/n:  Omg. So. I decided to use X-Men’s Quicksilver for this…and omg this is so long.  I had a feel or two while writing this.  I will definitely might be coming back to it later on.  ;) 

Originally posted by 7dragonslayers

“When’s that portal thing open up again?” Peter asked.  

He knew.  He’d asked her a thousand times over the past few days. He knew exactly how much time they had left and that was the problem.   

“Eighteen hours,” Darcy replied.  “Or something thereabouts…maybe give or take a few minutes…”  

“What’s it like?  In your time?  You think I’d fit in? I mean…I live in my Mom’s basement here…can’t be much worse, right?” He made this sound that he regretted making the second it passed through his lips.  Something like an awkward dry laugh, but somehow more awkward?

Darcy turned to face him.  “Are you being serious?  You want to come through with me? I don’t know…I don’t know if they’d ever be able to open it back up again to send you back…”  

He shrugged.  “Okay. Maybe I don’t wanna come back.”  

Her eyes widened.  “Are you…are you sure?  We’ve only known each other a week, Peter.”  

“Best week of my entire life.  Why wouldn’t I want to extend that? I mean…if you’re okay with me tagging along…if not, I mean…I could stay.”  

Blinking, she reached for his hands.  “Okay.  Cut the glib for just a second.  Just be like…totally straight with me.  Are you telling me you want to come back with me into the future?”  

“I’ve known people who did it before.  I…” He looked down.  “I don’t want to wait seventeen years to find you again, Darce.  I’m not good at waiting.  And why should I, if I can come with you now?” 

He was smiling.  Couldn’t help it.  Not really. Not when they were finally talking about the thing that he’d been mulling over for the better part of two days.  Ever since she’d kissed him and ruffled his hair.  Ever since she’d made him feel like the greatest guy she’d ever met.  Him.  The greatest at anything that wasn’t running.  It was crazy, and he knew it.  But he couldn’t imagine his life without her in it.   

“But…” Her voice was lower, raspier. Thicker.  “You never even asked me to stay with you…”  

“Would you?”  

She nodded.  “Yeah.  In a heartbeat.”

His cheeks kind of hurt from smiling, so he draped his arm around her shoulders, tugging her closer. “Okay, but IHOPs have stuffed french toast in your time, so I think that’s definitely the way to go. Don’t you?”

“I think you’re just jealous of my iPhone.”  

“Yeah, you caught me.  I don’t love you at all, I just want an iPhone.”

“Whoa, wait a minute.  You love me?”  

He snorted. “NO. I just said I didn’t.  It’s totally the iPhone.”  

“Well.  I don’t love you either,” she returned with just a hint of haughtiness. “I’m just here for the sex and Ms. Pac Man.”

Laughing, he scooted down a little on the couch so his head was level with hers. “Okay, fair enough, but we haven’t actually had sex.”  

Not for lack of trying, but it just hadn’t happened.  Too many interruptions at the mansion, and now they were in his Mom’s basement…it just didn’t feel right.   

She swatted his shoulder playfully. “Right?  You’ve yet to put out, so I mean.  You have to come back with me.”

anonymous asked:


WHAT?? Get in the car, I’ll drive you back and I’ll get it switched. Let’s stop and have lunch while we are out. *gives you sparkling dad smile* Does that sound good?



Ever since Apple Introduced us with the new color of the new iPhone 7 I’ve been drooling. As much as I hate the design of the new iPhone 7; I’m in love with the integration of the colors that they’ve added. I’m still waiting for a bigger significant change to convince me to switch. Maybe 6k video recording Apple!! better quality display Apple!! Enough about my rant; I wanted to make my iPhone 6s have a glossy,jet-black finish. So after doing some research I managed to find some companies that satisfied my needs. I ended up with Toeoe or D brand. Toeoe was listed on Amazon so I went for that one considering I have Amazon Prime. For starters I did not have that much expectations for this considering it was only 7 bucks. But I was really shocked in the quality of the skin. You can tell if a skin is cheaply made by touching the paper. Believe me its really easy; the procedure for this skin was extremely easy to put. There were some air bubbles were my finger was resting but I managed to take it off. Overall I really recommend this product. It gets a 5 out of 5 in my book and its only 7 smackcaroonies.


 (via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HuwhpXUEd5E)

Teens Are Tough

Word Count: 1.5k+

Triggers: Arguments (?), Rude words (?)

Summary: Dan and his daughter get into an argument and she says some really mean things to him. As he cries in bed, Phil tries to figure out what happened. In the end, they make-up.

“Sammy, your father and I just bought you the iPhone 6. We are not getting you the iPhone 7,” Dan sternly told his and Phil’s fourteen year old daughter.

“But all my friends are getting it and I’ll be so embarrassed without it,” she groaned, throwing her hands up into the air angrily. “Please, Dad.”

“I said no, Samantha, and that’s final,” Dan snapped as he crossed his arms.

“It’s like you want be to be a loser in school like you were! You’re ruining my life! I’m going to be made fun of because I’ll have an outdated phone and it’ll be your fault!” Sammy stomped over to the stairs and made one last remark before going to her room. “I wish you weren’t my dad and that I had a better father that actually cares about me! I hate you! You suck!”

Dan let his arms drop to his side as he stared at the stairs, gaping. He felt his heart drop to his stomach while tears welled up in his eyes. As he started to cry, his face in his hands, the front door opened and his husband, Phil, walked in.

“Hey, baby, how are - what’s wrong?” Phil set his bags down on the couch before he engulfed Dan in a hug, letting him cry into his shoulder.

“She hates me, she hates me and I’m the worst dad in the world,” Dan let out a sob that echoed throughout the room.

“Dan, baby, what are you talking about?” Phil pulled away and cupped Dan’s face in his hands, looking into his swollen, red eyes. “Tell me, baby.”

“She hates me,” Dan choked out before he rushed to his and Phil’s bedroom, slamming the door.

Confused, Phil stood in the living room before putting it together.

“Samantha Jane Howell-Lester, what in God’s name did you do?” Phil asked as he entered Sammy’s room.

“What do you mean, Papa?” she asked, looking up from her laptop.

“You wanna tell me why your dad is crying his heart out in our room?” Phil stared at his daughter with a frown on his face, waiting for a response.

Realization struck Samantha, her eyes widening. “He’s crying?”

“Samantha Jane, don’t make me ask again,” Phil snapped.

“I didn’t expect him to cry, honestly, all I did was ask him if I could get a new phone snd he said no. That’s all that happened!” words flew out of Samantha’s mouth but Phil remained frowning.

“That’s not all that happened, Samantha,” he crossed his arms and started to tap his foot. “Tell me, what did you say to your dad?”

“I didn’t say anything, Papa! I swear!” Samantha continued but Phil knew she was lying.

“Goddammit, Samantha Jane! I know you’re lying! Your dad wouldn’t be sobbing if you just had some simple conversation about a phone!”

“Papa -”

“He said you hated him,” Phil muttered, looking down then back at Samantha with anger in his eyes. “You told your dad you hated him? What the actual fuck Samantha! Why would you do such a thing? You are going to be in big trouble, missy.”

“Papa, I’m sorry,” Samantha started to cry, frightened by her father’s outburst.

“I’m not the one you should be saying sorry to.” Phil snapped before heading off to his room to comfort Dan.

As he opened the door, Phil could see Dan’s form under the blankets shaking as tears racked his body.

“Oh, baby,” said Phil, walking to the bed and laying beside Dan. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“She wanted the i-iPhone 7 a-and I told her no. S-she called me a loser and she said t-that I was ruining her life,” Dan curled up to Phil, still crying. “S-she also said she wishes t-that I wasn’t her dad and she hates m-me.”

“It’s wrong of her to say that, Dan, but she doesn’t mean it. She was just angry, baby,” Phil tried to reassure Dan.

“I’m going to lay down for a bit. Do you think you can be in charge if dinner?” Dan asked, changing the topic.

Phil sat in silence for a moment, sympathetically. “Of course, baby. You get you rest.”

Phil placed a kiss on Dan’s forehead before heading to the kitchen to make dinner.

“Daddy?” Samantha whispered, slowly opening the bedroom door for Dan and Phil’s room.

She walked in, closing the door behind her, and strode over to Dan’s side where he lied, staring at the wall.

“Mm?” he mumbled, not paying attention.

“I’m sorry for what I said to you, Daddy, it was disrespectful of me.I honestly think you are one of the greatest dads ever, next to Papa of course, and I love you. I’m sorry,” Sammy spoke softly, watching Dan’s face for a reaction to her words.

He continued to stare at the wall, not making any sounds.

“Daddy?” Samantha asked again, shaking her father’s shoulders.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s nice sweetheart,” Dan mumbled, taking a quick glance as his daughter before staring out into space again.

“Daddy? I said I was sorry,” Sammy shook him again but he just lightly pushed her hand off.

“Go help you father, he’s in the kitchen making dinner,” Dan mumbled before turning away.

Sammy felt that something was wrong.

“Papa,” Sammy said hesitantly as she walked into the kitchen. “I went to apologize to Dad. All he said was ‘yeah, yeah that’s nice sweetheart.’ I think something is wrong.”

Phil turned to glance at Samantha who kept her gaze down on the floor. “What you said really hurt him, Samantha.”

“I’m sorry, Papa,” Sammy pleaded. “I really am. I love Daddy and you more than anything. I know it was wrong of me to say those things to Dad.”

“You know,” Phil turned back to the pan, stirring, “what you said really hurt me too.”

“How so?” asked Samantha as she took a seat on a bar stool.

“I’ve known your father for many years and we have been together for quite some time,” Phil turned the stove off and looked at Samantha. “I love him a lot. When he’s happy, I’m happy. When he’s sad, I’m sad. And when he’s hurt, I’m hurt.”

“I’m so sorry, Papa,” Samantha had a tremor in her voice and Phil noted this as he saw her lip start to tremble. “I just want Daddy to love me again.”

“Oh, Sammy,” Phil engulfed the girl as she started to cry. “He still loves you very, very much. He’s just hurt so give him some time, okay? You are the greatest gift to your father and I, never forget that.”

“There’s still something wrong with Daddy though, Papa. He just stares at the wall,” Samantha told Phil and he sighed.

“Why don’t you set the table and I’ll go talk to him, okay?” he said.

As he walked to his and Dan’s room, he heard the soft clinking of dishes and among that a small voice softly singing. Phil smiled to himself as he opened the bedroom door and walked to Dan’s side, crouching.

“Hey, baby,” Phil smiled, pushing Dan’s hair out of his eyes.

“Hi,” Dan mumbled in a small voice making Phil’s heart flutter.

“How are you feeling?” Phil asked as he sat down beside Dan who wrapped his arms around Phil’s waist.

“I’m feeling a bit better,” Dan’s voice was muffled by Phil’s shirt seeing that the man buried his face into his husband’s chest. “Still hurts though.”

“Samantha is really sorry, Dan,” Phil responded, combing his fingers through Dan’s hair. “She thought you no longer loved her.”

“I would never stop loving her, she my baby girl,” Dan peeked up and stared into Phil’s eyes. “It just really hurt, Phil. It really hurt.”

“I know, baby, but you have to get over it,” Phil felt Dan’s grip around him tighten.

“I know,” Dan murmured. “I just. I just don’t understand.”

“Understand what?” Phil asked, confused.

“Why would she say those things,” Dan said.

“Baby, she was just upset. She didn’t mean it,” Phil sighed. “You know how it is, we say things we don’t mean sometimes when we’re mad. Even you and I do it.”

“I know, Phil.” Dan frowned.

“Besides, in the end, we are still a family and that’s - ” Phil was cut off by a knock.

“Come in,” Dan feebly called.

The door opened slowly, Samantha peeking in, “I - I set the table. Everything should be done by now.”

“Okay, sweetie,” Phil smiled at her and unlatched himself from Dan. “I think you two need to talk so I’ll be serving.”

Giving Dan’s hand a squeeze of assurance, Phil left and Samantha made her way in.

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I am so - oomph!” Dan pulled Samantha onto the bed and hugged her tight.

“I forgive you sweetheart,” Dan said, his breath tickling Samantha’s neck as he spoke. “But that doesn’t mean that you aren’t in trouble. What you said was really rude and hurt my feelings a lot.”

“I know and I’m sorry Dad,” Samantha cowered her head.

“I love you Sammy, don’t ever forget that okay?” Dan whispered as he placed a kiss on her forehead.

“I love you too Dad,” she smiled in response and hugged him tighter.

Status Update

Uh, what’s on my mind?  Fuckin Facebook… uh, let’s see …

Went to a bookstore today.  Sometimes pieces of my old life float to the surface.  I get seized by it, weird, irrational thoughts like I could use a new book or It’s been awhile since I checked out that bookstore.  The urge happens almost too quick for me to realize it, and before I know, I’m walking through the door into the cool air of the bookstore.  New releases are propped up invitingly on small stands.  Beyond, another room is crammed full of books on shelves, spines out, words clamoring to be heard.

I still have a list of books I haven’t read that I want to on my iPhone.  I wander around the stacks, idly flicking through my list.  There’s less now than there was before, and it isn’t because I was able to check them off - it’s because one day, I was looking at my lists and I just suddenly got so pissed off, totally shaking with rage, and swiped angrily to the left - delete function - on entry after entry.  I was left with the few still there, and even just glancing at those caused my body to knot up tight like a fist.  I put my phone back in the pocket of my gym shorts and stretched out my arm.  It had been back and biceps day at the gym, and I could feel the soreness starting to creep into my muscles.  The muscles that were prominently on display - well, OK, my triceps, those are really starting to pop - because I’m wearing a tank top.  That’s all I wear out in public now - tank tops and gym shorts.  Today, flat-soled Vans and Nike ankle socks.  A baseball cap turned backwards.  My glasses, in the searing sun, have turned to shades, at least, partially. 

What am I doing?  I thought.  I don’t look like I belong here.  The people who run this place, those fucking twig-like hipsters behind the counter in their floodwater khakis and their saddle shoes, their fucking immaculately trimmed beards and ostentatiously simple black-framed glasses.  Their mild confusion at my presence.  I’m guessing.  I’ve only picked up one or two books the whole time I’m here.  I’ve looked at my phone more, which keeps binging loudly in the quiet store.  I’m sure heads turn, disapproval is broadcasted.  Look at the dumb jock answering his phone in the bookstore.  Like someone talking too loudly in a movie.  If it rings, I decide instantly, I’m going to –

It rings.  I swipe right to answer.  I am about to say “Hello?”  or  “Hey,” like I normally do, but suddenly I make a different choice.  It’s my friend, and we’re supposed to meet up for dinner – for some chow – later, like, not too later, just in like an hour or so, “What’s UP bro?”  comes out of my mouth, almost like a horse’s bray, and this time I can just see the looks on the hipster’s faces, on the nice-looking girl in the summer skirt idly leafing through a book of short stories.  Irritation, disapproval, all invisibly pointed at me. 

But here’s the thing.  It felt amazing.  It felt like the biggest rush in the world, like taking a rollercoaster straight down and around the fuckin loop at 100 miles an hour bro.  And when he answered, maybe he was a little unsure because of how I’d answered the phone - I mean, that’s not me, right? 

I was out in the sun again before I knew it, glasses turning back into shades.  I spend a lot more time out in the sun these days.  The bell on the bookstore’s door jingled loudly, as if trying to match my volume.  And here’s the other thing - since I had so abruptly ratcheted the volume of my voice up to 11, the knob broke off, or at least, it felt like that, and I just couldn’t keep from talking as loudly as I had when I answered the call.  The whole way down the street, phone tilted to my ear, talking as loudly as possible, heart hammering, everyone in shouting distance able to hear me. 

Fuck.  When did I turn into such a d-bag?  I used to go in that bookstore all the time bro.  I used to, I used to sometimes compulsively buy a book even though I didn’t know who the author was or anything about it.  I used to spend hours in there, just paging through the books.  It seemed like a movie I saw once about someone who spent a lot of time in a bookstore, just paging through the books, but it couldn’t have been a movie I saw.  How boring would that movie be?  Unless someone robbed the bookstore and there was some real, y’know, action, or something to it. 

The sun was making me dizzy, which wasn’t the first time that day.  It’s been kind of hot out lately, but every moment I don’t spend out in the sun is a moment I feel kinda bad on the inside, like I should be outside as much as possible.  I should be showing as much skin as possible.  I need to be as tan as possible.  It makes the muscles pop more.  And that’s what matters, muscles and protein.  Man, I’m gonna eat a huge fuckin steak tonight at dinner.  My bro won’t like it much, he’ll probably sniff and say somethin about how the cow died inhumanely, or whatever.  I actually, secretly?  Have never really cared about that, not really.  I just need the protein.  I may have agreed once or twice, but I was just playin along, because I didn’t want the fuckin lecture.  And I’ll keep the shit about going into the bookstore to myself.  Nobody saw me do it, I’m sure, and I don’t want anyone knowin I went in there.  It was a dumb choice, why would I spend money on books that could be going to food, or supps, or more gear for working out?  I seem to always need new gear for working out, I mean, I only wear sleeveless shirts to the gym now - why wear sleeves?  How will I see where my muscles are growing?  That seems obvious to me.

So it’s kinda funny when my bro at dinner is all quiet and weird.  I know he’s gay and I know he’s got a crush on me.  Fuck, I got a crush on me.  It’s not gay, it’s just called ‘mirin.  Hard to look away from myself when I’m flexing in the mirror, stare right into my own eyes, dare me to flex even harder, really show off my fuckin biceps, flex my traps, my lats.  I think I’m gonna start paring down my collection of books, too.  I don’t have room in my room for the shelf, anyway, and it’s the perfect lighting to put a full-length mirror in.  Oh, wait, I just did that.  I forgot.  Two days ago.  I remember standin in front of it just last night.  Right?  That’s right.  I open up my phone and flick through to Photos and yeah, there’s a bunch of me posing.  Posin in different gear too.  But I’m not the one holding the camera.  My bro is. 

“So, do you remember any of last night?”

Shit.  I think I kinda do.  It’s fuzzy.  Like … “Was I drunk?”

“Naw, you haven’t had a drink in weeks, bro.”

He says bro funny.  I feel a weird vertigo, like my chair is slowly tipping backwards.  I flick through my Photos.  I’m posin a lot.  In different gear.  Shit, that’s a fucking singlet, I didn’t know I had a fucking singlet.  Something looks weird with my eyes.  Like I’m sleepwalking.  And there’s my bro, my big bro, in every shot, holding my phone, staring right at me, staring right at me even now, at dinner, over the table.  “Yeah,” I say, uncertainly.  What’s happening?  I’m falling, but I’m sitting straight up.  The back of my head feels heavy, like someone is pressing on it.  My brain feels squished, like when you screw your eyes shut really hard.

“You just been making different choices, Brendan.  How’s that working out for you, bro?  You’re healthier, now, aren’t you?  Fitter.  Happier.  More muscular.  Hotter.”  He licks his lips and smiles.  “Isn’t that what you want?”  He pauses.  Takes a sip of water.  I’m silent, because no words are coming to mind.  I wait for him to continue.  His words have a weight to them.  They are each like depth charges, exploding in my head.  “Tell me what you want, more than anything in the world, Brendan.”

I do the only thing I know how to do.  I lift my arms and I flex, and I grin, because fuck it, flexing feels fucking amazing, and my bro is laughing, and he’s lifting his phone, and he’s snapping a picture.  “This one’s goin on fuckin Facebook.  Ah, shit, this is the best thing ever.  Aren’t you glad you went to that hypnotist with us, Brendan?”

“What hypnotist?”

“It’s OK,” my bro says.  Soothingly.  It does calm me down.  I was gettin kinda riled up there.  “Don’t think about it too hard.”  He laughs.  “Well, harder than you can, anymore, anyway.”

Okay.  That sounds about right.  “Okay,” I say.  The protein has arrived, anyway, a huge steaming bowl of rice and chicken and veggies, and my mouth is watering so much that I think I must be drooling, but fuck it.  I wish I didn’t even have to use a fork, I wanna just shovel it into my face with my hands…

“And after we’re done here,” my bro is saying.  Was he talking the whole time?  I couldn’t remember the words he’d said, but I remember the sound of his voice.  I look at him again.  He is kinda nerdy.  Not real hipster, not really.  Glasses, the haircut.  He’s smart, too.  He’s really the only smart dude I hang around, because most guys I don’t get when they talk smart like my bro, but you gotta have at least one smart guy around when you need to make choices.  I usually make the right ones, anyway, I mean, c’mon, how hard is it.  Muscles, protein.  Maybe an action movie in there somewhere, or a trip to the beach, or rock climbing, or tossing the football around in the park. 

Hey, those all sound like awesome ideas. 

“Bro?  You in there?”  My bro is snapping his fingers in front of my face and laughing.  “Damn, you’re slow.”

“Sorry, bro,” I say, through a mouthful of rice and chicken I didn’t even know I was eating.  “What were you saying?”

“After we’re done here, I’m coming over to your apartment.  I’ve seen what it looks like, and you need some help dumbing it down.  I’ve got some ideas for you.  And there’s a lot of clothes you can get rid of and make space in your dresser for more gear.  Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“Yeah,” I say, because whatever he’s saying, it’s cool with me, he’s my bro.  I just gotta get this fuel in me, because my body is fuckin hungry as shit. 

“And I might let you suck my cock,” my bro says, waggling his eyebrow at me.  “No homo.”

“No homo,” I repeat, still mowing down on my chow.  Fuck, this rice and chicken and veg is awesome.  I could eat this forever.  Every day.  Well, that and my protein shakes.  “Sure, bro.”

He leans back, grinning.  “Fuck.  You’re perfect.  Never change, bro.”

And I grin, and I flex again, and he checks his phone.  Probly checking up on my Facebook.  I let him have the password, because fuck that, all that shit is too complicated.  It’s better to have my bro make those choices for me.  I trust him.  He’s never let me down.  And he won’t.  He knows who I am, who I really am, who I’ve always been, and who I’ll always be.

So … what’s on my mind?  Well, muscles, and what I’m gonna lift tomorrow, and uh, I dunno, stuff like that.  

Eh, I was gonna update my status, but I’m just gonna let my bro do that for me. He’s better at all that shit, anyway.   All I need is the gym.   And my bro.

He looks at me over the table and grins, and presses a button on his phone, and I hear the sound of a post being made.  “Go ahead,” he motions, and I pull out my phone.  There’s the picture of me, flexing in the restaurant, shit-eating grin on my face, hat backwards.  Already the Likes are coming in, and some comments, and I’d look at them, but I don’t care that much about that shit anymore.

“Cool, bro,” I say, and dive back into my food.  I even eat what my bro doesn’t finish, and after we leave the restaurant, I’m confused a little, mostly full, feeling kinda dopey.  I almost wander into traffic once … or maybe twice, that was kind of embarrassing, but my bro was right there to stop me from walkin into the road.  Haha.  I’m funny when I’m full, I just wanna lay down and gobble on my bro’s knob.  He lets me do that.  He calls me a dumbass knob-gobbler, and I’m kinda okay with that.  My bro can do whatever he wants, because he knows best.

So … what’s on my mind?  Well, muscles, and what I’m gonna lift tomorrow, and uh, I dunno, stuff like that.  

Eh, I was gonna update my status, but I’m just gonna let my bro do that for me.  He’s better at all that shit, anyway.   All I need is the gym.   And my bro.