I Always Am About To Go To Sleep At A Beautiful 11pm And Then Something Happens To Me

Flowers by Irving Penn (1980)

— December 5, 1913 / Franz Kafka diaries

screams into my hairbrush DONT YOU GET IT. SHE HATES HIM BECAUSE SHES TOO SCARED TO GET ATTACHED!!!!!!! EVERY PERSON IN HER LIFE HAD DIED AND SHE DOESNT WANT THAT ANYMORE SO INSTEAD SHE FOCUSES ON THE BAD THINGS ABOUT HIM EVEN IF THEY ARENT TRUE

pretend i didn't already posted this on tiktok

Would you believe if I say husband!Caleb is petty?

You've been in a pretty bad mood since this morning and all of your anger is targeted at him. However, rather than blowing up and taking the whole Linkon city down with you—you are hell bent on giving him the cold shoulder.

Caleb has tried everything in order to weasel back into your good graces; but you seem to not budge at all. Therefore, he does what any responsible, mature husband would do.

He tightens every single jar in the kitchen and places them in the highest rack.

It doesn't take long for the inevitable to occur. Sooner than he predicted, he hears the sound of your frustrated grumble floating from the kitchen. Barely hiding the conceit blooming in his chest, he strolls towards the damsel in distress—you.

"Fuck this," you curse under your breath, trying to twist the lid of pasta sauce jar with all your might.

No luck.

Caleb leans on the door, folding his arms over his chest and one of the most condescending smirks lines his lips. Watching as your expression shifts from stubborn determination to murderous rage in a matter of seconds.

"Got a problem, pipsqueak?"

You freeze for a second. The next, you whip around—death burning in your eyes. "You—" inhaling a sharp breath, voice deceptively low. "You did this on purpose."

Rather than admitting, he lifts a brow, "Did what? Store things out of your adorable little reach? That's just called good kitchen organization."

The corner of your lip curls down into a sneer—blood curdling in your veins. Stomping over to him, you thrust the jar to his chest, "Open it."

For all what Caleb is, he does take the jar from you but makes no effort to open it. Instead, he tilts his head, "No apology?"

"For what?"

"For freezing me the whole morning?" He says, tapping the lid. "You want me to do something then you gotta play nice, pipsqueak."

Again with that nickname...

Your fingers twitch, like you are considering the possibility of smacking some sense into him but choose against it. It is clear that he is enjoying this game he is playing—seeking out ways to prove just how dependent you are on him regarding everyday things. And although you don't want to ask for his help, you have little choice in the matter. Besides, with the way he is looking at you presently, the reason as to why you were mad at him is suddenly lost.

Taking a controlled deep breath, you school your expression into the most fake smile ever and say through gritted teeth, "My insufferable, dearest husband, will you please open the jar for me?"

Caleb grins, twisting the lid off with ease; an act which leaves you infuriated rather than impressed. "See? That wasn't so hard now, was it?"

Instantly you snatch it back, whispering something incomprehensible under your breath although Caleb catches the wisp of a word like jar opener. However, before you can walk away, your husband reaches for your wrist, tugging you back.

"Next time you are mad at me..." He pauses, weighing his next words carefully, "...just say so, hmm?"

With that, he seals his request with a chaste kiss to your forehead.

Your heartbeat seems to have increased by a mile—thumping inside your ribcage so hard that you can hear it. A heat spread over your cheek and ears. You let out a huff to shroud the fluster in your being.

"Next time, I am poisoning your food."

To which, Caleb laughs—that stupidly annoying laughter that makes you weak in your knees—before stealing another kiss on your lips.

"Then I'll just have to eat it, pipsqueak."

I've recently played lnds and I am obsessed with it 🥹

it’s not about havin’ someone to love me anymore, this is the experience of bein’ an american whore

i know “yor finally gets assigned to kill twilight/loid finally gets assigned to thorn princess” is a really fun and popular future plot line people like to think about, but i think “yor gets assigned to kill desmond sr” could cause equal amounts of drama. because operation strix is not KILLING desmond, it’s getting close to him and infilitrating his inner circle. and you can’t do that if he’s… dead

cue shenanigans of twilight miserably trying to keep this horrible man alive from this demoness who he had assumed was an urban legend and yor going “who is this fucker who keeps getting in my way”

In Barbie (2023), directed by Greta Gerwig, Ken says he wants to spend the night with Barbie because they're boyfriend and girlfriend and when she asks him "to do what?", he replies "I'm actually not sure". This is a perfect analogy to kids playing with Barbie dolls, as they know that couples "do things" but are too young to know exactly what. In this essay I will

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