honeybear-rps-blog
Just bear with me.
“No matter who you are, no matter where you live, and no matter how many people are chasing you, what you don't read is often as important as what you do read.” - Lemony Snicket.
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“stop kicking me!”
Skye’s instinctual reaction to being grabbed from behind was to ram her elbows back in the hopes of hitting a rib or knocking the wind out of whoever was behind her as her legs swung back furiously hoping to make contact with a knee with just enough force to blow it out of place and send the stranger down to the ground. So caught up was she in her fight-or-flight response that she’d barely registered the fact that the arms around her were the same ones that had grabbed her among the waves during their trips to the beach, or that the voice, even hushed as it was now, was recognizable.
None of this explained why they were now crammed into the janitors closet together.
But just as she opened her mouth to voice this exact thought, his hand flew up against her mouth at the sound of approaching voices being led by a fairy-pitched nightmare that seemed to float on a cloud of fruity perfume that always made Skye more than a little nauseous. Angrily pushing his hand off, she waited until the voices had faded further down the halls to glare at him and give him another stern kick.
“Stop kicking me!” he huffed, rubbing at the point on the back of his leg where she’d just made contact. “Well you can’t just grab people out from the hall and expect them not to get freaked out enough to throw a few jabs your way!” she countered. Skye’s life was so much duller before Eli had brought his stupid Jeep and its busted window into her shop, before they’d spent the Summer all but attached at the hip - although to be fair she should have known the minute Dawn rolled back into town she would instantly fall back down the hierarchy of importance right along with homework and other responsibilities that weren’t directly linked to doing whatever the peppy blonde had decided would be the activity for the week.
What she hadn’t been able to figure out was why Dawn had apparently harbored this hatred toward her? Last year they’d collided in the hallways several times because, in Dawn’s own words “I don’t see people who look like that,” the comment always irritated Skye but she knew outright anger never won against people like her; but now it felt as if the cheerleader was almost roaming the halls like a hungry shark sniffing for any sign of weakness to pounce on it. Sure, sometimes Eli would stop by the library and they’d get caught up chatting about whatever new book she was into this week, but for the most part they were mainly limited to text messages or the occasional dinner his family insisted she come to - but it’s not as if any of that made a dent in his relationship with Dawn, even then shouldn’t that be a problem for them to work out among themselves? Without dragging her into the middle of it?
“Guess your girlfriend is still mad at me for some unknown reason... Would you just talk to her? Or what are you afraid she’ll get mad that you’re making friends outside your little ‘circle’? This is so stupid,” she huffed and grabbed the doorknob, rattling it a few times to no avail, “of course,” she mumbled under her breath. “You’ve somehow managed to now get us stuck in a closet, at school, without my cellphone... and I don’t even have a book with me.” Sighing, she leaned back against one of the walls and stared down at her shoes. “Do you want me to talk to her? I mean, you know I hate her and her yowling voice, but it’s only a matter of time until I’m gone and you’ll still probably have to deal with her until you both go off to college and she dumps you for some other guy with popularity cred at her new school.”
His jaw seemed to tighten as he turned his back on her and tried the door again like he usually seemed to do whenever she shoved an uncomfortable truth in his face.
Exasperated she added, “oh yeah, because I didn’t try doing the exact same thing two seconds ago, Eli,” pushing her hair up into a messy bun she placed her hands on her hips and looked around the small room. “You keep trying the unachievable while I try and find us another way out of here.”
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[TEXT]: I’m drunk and upset and I miss you.
[TEXT] Phoebe ➝ WesDo you have to be drunk and upset to miss me?
[TEXT] Phoebe ➝ WesDon’t answer that.
[TEXT] Phoebe ➝ WesI miss you too, for the record.
[TEXT] Phoebe ➝ WesIf you text me when you get home I’ll come over tomorrow and make you a hearty, hangover-cure breakfast. But you have to get home safely in order to receive it.
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[text] Well if you don’t want to be kicked out before last call don’t I would suggest stop drinking whiskey and don’t call the giant bouncer with the neck tattoo “princess”
[TEXT] Piper ➝ OwenStop drinking whiskey? Who do you even think you’re talking to right now?
[TEXT] Piper ➝ OwenPlus dude, come on. Little miss priss pants the bouncer had been mean mugging me since I got into the club. Total bullshit and discrimination. I didn’t even start the fucking fight, but no one cares cause it’s easier to blame Piper.
[TEXT] Piper ➝ Owen Anyway, can you come bail me out?
[TEXT] Piper ➝ OwenThere’s a blowjob in it for you.
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[text] It was so good seeing you.
[TEXT] Anna ➝ CamSame here! Maybe we can grab coffee sometime soon and catch up.
[TEXT] Anna ➝ CamCristina is obviously welcome to tag along too, of course. I know how busy married life can be.
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"You took advantage of my feelings for you."
The sarcasm sizzled beneath her skin like that time her friends had dared her to walk on hot coals - and she wanted nothing more than to be able to smirk, shrug and sway her hair over her shoulders in the glamorous fashion he’d taught her to walk a red carpet with; her mouth came up empty and dry.
Had this been a movie she’d have gushed for hours about the lighting - a somber blue that bounced around the apartment and made his already hunched back seemed punctured and wounded; her dress, which in the light had a lively pink color was now drenched in the blood from his still pumping heart in her fist. None of this should have worked out this way, and his now booming voice made her clench the diamond-clad purse, a startling reminder that he was still expecting some sort of apology, an explanation, the slight glimmer of hope that there was some inkling of human decency left in her not to trick a person into falling for them for their own gain.
“And you didn’t?” she countered, immediately on the defensive - if there was one good thing any journalist knew was that you had to control the story, granted that was harder to do when she’d gotten careless. That was always the problem with falling for someone, her father had warned her on numerous occasions but she’d never been too good at listening.
“All you did for months was scheme ways to get rid of me without losing public sympathy, and when you weren’t doing that were pining after a woman who cheated on you. She fucking cheated on you, and you still kept chasing after her - even when I was the one who had to sit through all your bullshit while you were trying to get sober, and what? She can just come back and claim you whenever she wants? You’re pathetic.” Her voice had begun to waver halfway through her angry tirade, but she’d pressed her teeth together so tightly she feared they might crack against each other and her tone had grown far more vicious.
And just as instantly she’d regretted it. Her mouth had always been three moves ahead of her brain and once her words processed she wanted to take it back, to admit that what had started as a career-starting business venture had turned into admiration and even respect, or that he was the first person she’d dared to be honest with in years. Of course those secrets were far too powerful for another person to hold, so she shook her head and took a few steps toward him only to have him recoil from her as if she were made of pure toxin and just being too near to him would cause him harm.
He wouldn’t even look at her as he demanded her to leave, his eyes seemed fixated on something far off, his nose recoiled as if the smell of her disgusted him. Heart caving in, she grabbed the stack of papers from the counter and stuffed them under her arm; whatever the writings were she was almost thankful they seemed to be missing the more recent edits of the book, in some ways it was easier for everyone if he viewed her as cruel, opportunistic and manipulative - and in all reality, wasn’t she? Wasn’t that what had gotten her to this exact point? Caught in such a compromising position that she was sure Sebastian would never speak to her again.
“I’m sure your brother can arrange for my things to be sent back to me,” she spoke plainly in lieu of an apology - even now too proud to issue one. Storming her way back to the front she let out a huff and added, “ you don’t think it’s oddly convenient you get these news just weeks after your ex breaks off her new engagement - the same ex who has suddenly reappeared in your life just when you’re starting to get your life back on track...” she sighed and turned to look back at him, holding up the stack of papers, “this isn’t anywhere close to the whole story, but what hurts the most is that after all this time, all the things I told you in confidence... you didn’t even question it, you just... you automatically believed this is all I had to say about you, that what? I came into your life just to trash you. You know what, keep it.” she said throwing the stack into the center of the room, “maybe someday you’ll actually care enough to ask me for the ending.”
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[text]: Your Snapchat story was solely footage of stray cats and whiskey shots
[TEXT] Robin ➝ Barney I thought you of all people would appreciate pussy and liquor.
[TEXT] Robin ➝ Barney-voice message of Robin imitating the joke rimshot -
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❝ Who says exactly what they’re thinking? What kind of game is that? ❞
“Maybe that’s why your marriage failed”
Kate’s voice hummed loudly around the green Starbucks straw she’d been chewing on for the past 10 minutes as she leaned back in her chair and watched the two ex-lovers scream insults at each other across a table. The first time she’d been in a situation like this, she’d been unable to contain her sardonic chuckles, and on more than one occasion it had earned her a stern talking to from a director as she tried to play it off as nothing more than a misinterpreted cough.
Being the head honcho gave you enough power that you never had to apologize to someone - even if your commentary was shocking enough to get them to finally fall into a stunned silence.
“Oh, are you two finally done? Can we get to some business? ‘Cause if you’re paying me to be your therapist I’ll definitely have to start charging way more,” she scoffed as she finally sat upright in the chair an eyebrow raised in open invitation for anyone to comment; but even the stenographer in the corner of the room had eased the force with which she’d been jabbing at the keys. Divorce was like drunkenly rummaging through a box of things you once thought you treasured when you were in middle school - it was easy to get entangled in the details and overly emotional at the tiara you got for your sweet 16; the same one you would inevitably end up drunkenly wearing on your head as you curled up with a bottle of Dom. Either way, Kate knew there was no room for her empathy in that room, not when there was a giant gap of logic missing.
In all honesty half the time she felt like shaking the shit out of her clients - as if the thrashing would be enough to throttle some logic into them.
Mediating was the shittiest thing about her job - or at least sitting through it was; she’d never had the patience for two people who’d bought into the notion of marriage arguing like petty children over property - like Kanye said, should’ve hit her with the prenup. While some lawyers tended to get swept up in the arguments she’d typically just sit there, idly biding her time until something inevitably uncouth rolled out of her mouth. “I’m going to make this really simple. John, you cheated - it’s documented everywhere babe, okay? She caught you and Shaggy isn’t getting you out of this with the ‘it wasn’t me’ excuse. So let’s cut to the chase, ‘kay? You have two choices - one, you reach a reasonable agreement with Ms. Vanburgh or we drag this to court...” she smirked as she leaned forward on the table, her eyes going black like a sharks as she crept closer to him, the rest of the room seemingly fading, “and I will drag this court case out for so long that you won’t be able to bounce back anywhere near as quickly as I can bounce a quarter off the ass of the 20-something year old you’ve been boning.” Sliding the agreement across the table over to him she plopped back down into her chair with a shrug, “your move.”
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Parents were not Skye’s strong suit - well, people in general were something she typically steered away from unless necessary or on those rare occasions were she felt unusually chipper and conversation seemed to flow with ease. More often than not parents were typically filled to the brim with the sort of intrusive questions she’d managed to avoid for so long. Worse than that her answers were typically always met with a look of pity from other adults and that always made her even more uncomfortable, she was doing well on her own after all.
Skye had managed to land herself a job, an apartment which - although shared with 3 other people - was still the closest thing she had to a home and she manged to keep decent enough grade point average that would give her plenty of opportunities for the future. She was doing just fine on her own, and she’d sometimes wish she’d get some recognition for that instead of always being met with concern.
“Oh. Cool” was all she’d managed to land on in response to meeting his parents, although she was sure her tone reflected her internal monologue and was devoid of any real excitement at the idea. If anything it started a sort of mental countdown in Skye’s mind, hoping that if she could somehow just be done before his parents showed up then the whole thing could be avoided. “No plans for the great Eli Moore,” she teased, “that’s surprising,” she continued breezily. With all the partying most of his “squad” seemed to do throughout the school year, she’d only assume it would have increased during the Summer - much more than that, their last summer.
Thankful for the topic change, she knelt by the door as she rummaged through her tools to find the one she needed to loosen the panel of the door. “It’s not,” she answered firmly, confident in her abilities to diagnose the car before even peaking inside of it, but she quickly caught how dismissive that sounded and continued, “Here,” she stood up, brushing some dirt from her knee as she gestured for Eli to lean closer into the window as she pressed on the button so that he could hear the whirring sound for himself. “That whirring sound is the motor - so the power is being sent out to the regulator, which is supposed to take that power and use it to move the glass up or down. If it was totally silent then you’d be dealing with a motor issue, which could mean a problem with the motor itself or the wiring around it. If it’s the wiring, then at that point it’s really just a matter of seeing just what is wrong with the wires and then you take it from there.” There was a shrug that followed her long-winded explanation as if to really cement just how simple it really was.
Pushing back from the wheel she went back to unscrewing the key points to release the panel, “let me know if I lose you anywhere”.
Skye chuckled at his comment about the videos, “don’t worry, you’d be surprised how many people don’t know stuff about their cars. I mean, did you know that the average car is composed of over 30,000 different parts?” she shook her head as if reflecting on the fact for a moment, “once you get to know them all, then you get to play around with them and create your own stuff. It’s kind of cool, if you’re willing to dedicate the time to it.”
Finally unscrewing the final piece she looked back at him, “I need your help for a minute. You’re gonna grab the panel and pull it up and out, not in a yanking way, but do it slowly so I can make sure there’s nothing else attached to the door that could get damaged if we move too suddenly.” Help was the last thing Skye needed - she’d done this before at the garage on her own, but now that Eli seemed to have shown some interest she wanted to make him feel included in the process, plus it never hurt to have at least some knowledge of how to piece together your own car.
DO MECHANICS MAKE HOUSE CALLS? || ELSKY
There were few people who would call Eli out on his bullshit - and that was what asking her for a favor without having thanked her for the last one had been - and so he wasn’t quite sure how Skye would act around him when she came to work on his car. There was a level of unpredictability that made her both frightening and exciting to Eli - not unlike the feeling that he got before a big game.
Still, if Skye harbored any ill will towards him, she certainly didn’t seem to show it. Instead, she appeared to be friendly, which he was grateful for.
“I didn’t have any plans,” Eli answered giving her a shrug. It was true, actually. Eli didn’t have to work tonight, which was a small mercy in the face of summer, but he hadn’t made plans for anything tonight, mostly because he knew that Skye would be coming over. He didn’t expect her to stay all night or hang out after she was done, but he didn’t want to seem rude by making plans when he’d already invited her over. “So it’s no biggie. You’ll probably end up meeting my parents, though, because they won’t be home for another hour or so.”
The thought of Skye meeting his parents was an uncomfortable one, but not for any reasons involving Skye, really. His parents could be ridiculously embarrassing sometimes, especially when faced with a new friend of their children’s. He always felt they got weirdly too personal, but he guessed that was just their caring nature in some ways. Still, he felt sorry for the line of questioning that Skye would probably receive once his parents got home.
God, his dad was going to be way too interested in what she was doing here, too. Or upset that Eli had asked some friend from school and not him. Either way, he was going to have to do some sort of damage control.
Once he dropped the keys into her palm, he had no idea what to do with himself. The car which was practically a second home was now an awkward space - Skye’s expertise took control of it, made it her space until she was finished with it. He stood on the other side of his open driver’s side door, watching as she fiddled with the power controls. Was it that simple to tell?
“What happens if the wiring is bad?” Eli asked, curious. Skye’s blunt way of speaking about the car as if she was surgeon talking about the body made it a little easier to talk to her in general. It gave them something to discuss, anyway.
He decided to move over to the passenger side, climbing into the passenger seat to get a better view of what she was doing. It felt awkward letting someone else take control of the situation, and he decided it was better to learn from it, rather than have to go through it again. “Wanna hear something really stupid? I didn’t know you could take that off until I was watching videos. I guess it’s kind of obvious, but I didn’t know.”
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Claire’s head bobbed in agreement at his understatement - shitty didn’t even begin to cover it. It was unprofessional, inappropriate and absurd, even if the Captain tried to frame it as some sort of team-building experience, there was something to be said for how the idea had been thrust onto them. What irked her even more about the situation was the knowledge that if she tried to address it with the Captain his attitude would be a dismissive one, as if her concern over the mix-up was irrelevant and exaggerated. At least there was something to be said for the fact that Owen was taking her side on the matter - and even more surprisingly was being oddly cooperative, not even stopping to get bogged down in the cheap shot she’d taken at him earlier.
Years of interrogations and questioning potential perps had given her a sharp sense of hyper-vigilance and the nagging reminder that most things were ever rarely what they seemed. So, it was no surprise that when Owen confessed he’d not found a place yet her first immediate reaction was, again a sense of annoyance - was this simply his way of setting her up again? If she just took the room, word would eventually get back to the precinct and she’d never be able to live it down.
There was also his insistence that she go and relax before the long day that awaited them tomorrow. He wasn’t wrong of course, all she wanted was to kick off her high heels and fall face first onto the bed - she spent so much of her time maintaining a very specific closed-off persona that the idea of letting herself be human for a few hours in a city that didn’t know or expect anything from her was a liberating one and perhaps the majority of her anger stemmed from being stripped from that possibility. Still, she found her head tilting and eyebrows knitting together as if trying to read him beyond what she was just seeing - as if trying to fight her own perceptions about him that instantly made her wary of his intentions.
“No,” she finally sighed, shoulders drooping as if she had laid down whatever weapon she’d been carrying before. “Trust me, Owen, I’ve pretty much exhausted all logical options when it comes to finding a place to stay - you might think you’re far more charming than I am, but that won’t make a difference if there’s not a single room to put you into. Plus what if the only place available happens to be a town or two away? You’re already hardly functional in the mornings, imagine if you have to travel an extra hour or two just to get here... No, we’re both adults,” she nodded, tugging on the front of her shirt as if reassuring herself of her comment. There was, of course, the unspoken fact that she’d be unable to relax without knowing he’d also have a safe place to stay at - they were partners, after all and she’d only likely spend the rest of the night obsessively checking her phone until his lack of response eventually made her cave anyway. No. No matter what way she spun this, the only logical solution was for them to share a room together.
“Come on,” she added, her tone much more defeated now - the fatigue of travel finally catching up with her as her hand wrapped around his wrist to give it a slight tug toward the elevators, but the slip was caught all too quickly and her shoulders reeled up again returning to their usual soldier-like stance, her tone again shifting back to a more pragmatic one. “There are a few ground rules I want to establish if we will be sharing a room though. First and foremost, I call dibs on the first shower for the duration of our stay. Also whatever.... romantic entanglement you may happen to fall into remains outside of our room - I’d really rather not walk in on you having sex - this is, after all, a professional excursion and our behavior here should reflect that.”
CLOSE QUARTERS || CLOWEN
Owen was no stranger to Claire’s obvious disdain for his romantic life. It was a very clear lifestyle difference that he rarely felt any need to apologize for. Many factors, namely his job, prevented him from seeking any sort of serious relationship, but he didn’t think that he should try to pretend otherwise or abstain from having a little fun from time to time. If Claire didn’t understand that, it was her problem.
Still, the contempt in her voice as she reacted to his offer felt a little too much for someone who was attempting to be kind. He could have just as easily taken the room and forced her to share with him, as he was sure she’d find it impossible to find anything at all nearby. However, that was counterproductive for the both of them, and he really didn’t need to push their working relationship into something hostile.
He was about to tell her that her hostility was completely unwarranted, especially since he was simply trying to be helpful. That wouldn’t help the situation, but he would feel a little better about it. Before he could say anything, though, she mumbled an apology at him and vented her frustration, and the frustration in his chest loosened just a little. Really, how could he stay angry with her after that? He let out a sigh as he toyed with the strap of his duffel.
“No, it’s pretty shitty.” Owen agreed, throwing a calculating glance over his shoulder. He didn’t see the Cap anywhere, though he’d like to share some words with him about this. It wasn’t that long ago the Cap had been talking about booking confirmations, so he obviously had some clue as to what was happening. He should have warned them at the very least.
“I haven’t yet.” He gave a shrug as his attention snapped back to Claire. Had this been the DEA, he wouldn’t have hesitated to walk over and ask another agent to crash in his room. Detectives were much more different, and he could never - in a million years - see himself asking any of them for favors. He didn’t trust most of them as far as he could throw them. But then again, he’d been in far worse situations than this before. “It doesn’t matter. Why don’t you go and try to relax a bit before everything starts tomorrow? I’ll give you a call when I’m set up somewhere.”
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TEXT: Elena ⇄ Gillian
Gillian: I watched it and I think there are some really good points that she brings up
Gillian: The human body does seem very aquatic or semiaquatic in many ways
Gillian: I think there is more support for this than the idea that humans evolved from primates
Gillian: The jam is so great I would absolutely love more but I'll pay for it this time
Gillian: I've never had mango jam before
Elena: I'd never even considered it before that, but I've always thought the theories that talk about being related to some form of animals are the ones that make the most sense. We're all a part of nature, and nature is a part of us.
Elena: I had a feeling you'd really take a liking to it, given your fishy nature.
Elena: I meant due to your love of fish, not that your attitude is shady.
Elena: Really? I think you'll like it! It's like sunshine in a bottle.
Elena: I refuse to take your money, by the way! Maybe you can provide me with fish!
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TEXT: Robin ⇄ Barney
Robin: You have five seconds to take this one direction cutout from my hands or I'm throwing it out the window.
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Museboard ➝ Kate Thorn
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I'm the picture that's faded, I'm the love you don't trust
Take the girl out from under glass and she'll always want too much
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NIGHTMARE ON COMMITMENT STREET || KATE
Churches had always made Kate itchy - if you asked her therapist she’d probably say it was a psycho-somatic reaction to having been forced to waste her afternoons locked in a room with two Nuns and a Priest who, more often than not, would end the sessions by puling her mother aside and insisting that her constant need to question the morals and lessons they were presented with was reckless and insubordinate behavior. Despite it all, she was there again next Sunday - disinterested until something stirred her enough to challenge it. They may have deemed her difficult, bratty and stubborn but even at an early age she’d been way too logical to be sold into the idea of anything that wasn’t tangible.
Love, for example, was not a tangible thing; this had been proven time and time again by the ever-revolving door of unhappy couples that would land at her feet, always singing a song of regret.
On that note, weddings may have as well been disguised as a magic show in which the Priest would double as the magician, and instead of ending with “I now pronounce you Mr. and Mrs. Jackass” the words would instead be “and for my next act, see how I make these two people grow to hate and resent each other” maybe if he was merciful he’d add in something about ending the curse before children were involved. Soft spots were so not her thing, but cases always got way more complicated when children were involved - and she was fucking awful at talking to kids anyway, so she usually left that up to the Paralegal.
The only good thing about wedding’s was the after-party and you could bet for two people like Lizbeth and Micah - two well-respected and nationally renowned Dr’s who’d chosen the overly cliched idea of a Gatsby inspired wedding - it was sure to be a monumental affair with only the best drinks, music and a brand new batch of hotties for her to pick through; something about wedding’s always seemed to make people desperate for a quick and easy hook-up.
Skipping the actual wedding had been such an easy decision that she wondered why more peopled didn’t just show up to the reception and insisted they’d been there all along. Honestly, she was not only a genius but should clearly be the voice of this generation - at least that’s the smug thought she had to herself as she scoffed at the tower of gifts that had piled up on the table. Not one for sentimentality, she’d opted for writing Liz a check at their last appointment but now she was really kicking herself for not having attached one of her business cards to it. What a wasted opportunity, she pouted at the thought as she swiped a glass of champagne that was being carried past her.
“Kate!” Lizbeth’s fairy-like voice, which seemed somehow chirpier today, broke through the thought and she squealed back at her attempting to make the gesture seem sincere instead of sarcastic. “Oh my God. You looked so beautiful up there; really, what a touching ceremony!” her head tilted to one side and the palm of her free hand touched her chest as if to really sell the idea that she’d really sat through a nearly 3 hour-long ceremony. “I’m so glad you made it! Thank you for being he-” her attention was drawn by Micah who simply nodded his head in Kate’s direction and then turned his attention back to his bride, “Oh gosh. I’m sorry, wedding’s are so hectic. But have fun, okay! I’ll try and catch up with you later,” just as easily as she’d floated into the conversation, she was hovering away now and Kate felt the need to find the bar stat.
Wedding’s were awful enough on their own, but they were somehow way more uncomfortable when you’d hooked up with the Bride’s husband on a few occasions - double that if you’d both bottled that secret up for years after. Whatever. It was a moot point now that they’d gotten married, the time for spilling secrets of that magnitude had long passed - plus why give more meaning to something meaningless?
Sauntering her way to the bar, she finished the champagne and set the glass down, pushing it toward the bartender. “’Kay, so here’s the deal,” she began opening up her wallet, “I’m gonna give you this $100 and in return you’re going to memorize this face,” she grinned, sliding closer and dropping her chin onto the top of her hand which now rested on the bar, “and make me a Martini, dry, no olives because I don’t hate myself and oh! there might be more of those for you if you make sure my glass isn’t empty for the rest of the night. Sound good?” She finished and promptly turned away from him, not giving him a choice in the matter as she took in the lavish party. “What’s next? Glitter falling from the ceiling,” she commented loudly.
#omg I'm so sorry?#I couldn't even give this a ship name because you haven't named your character yet#WHY AM I LIKE THIS#para: kate#para: nightmare on commitment street#ship: love is just a game#also have this gif because your life isn't confusing enough with me in it
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[text]: Please stop putting yourself down I hate when you talk badly about yourself
[TEXT] Piper ➝ Owen Yeah well. You knew what you were getting into.
[TEXT] Piper ➝ Owen Look. You can always, idk, lose my number or some shit if you can’t deal with it.
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[ text ]: Stop kidding yourself.
[TEXT] Sarah ➝ FredWhy is it so crazy to think that maybe he might like me too?
[TEXT] Sarah ➝ Fred We’re not kids anymore; so why would it really be that bananas of an idea?
[TEXT] Sarah ➝ Fred God don’t tell him I used the word bananas. That makes me sound like a child. Which I’m not. So. End of discussion!
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