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 kiwi, jere & dusty
dusty r. pugliesi
posted May 24 2017, 12:47 AM by [] from

.clementinepost b {color: #9F5DB7; font-size:11px;font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', sans-serif;font-weight:500;in a back dress, she's such an actress Of all the things Dusty saw herself as, a successful young adult was not one of them. But she was very good at pretending, or at least no one had yet to call her out on it. She'd been to a lot of parties. Big parties, little parties, parties that she loved and parties that she'd rather not ever think about again. She never got beyond the tipsy stage, and she wondered sometimes if that was her problem. Maybe it wasn't that the party was less enjoyable to her than being home with her five million dogs, it was just that she wasn't enjoying it properly, She never fully let on unless she was entirely miserable, though, and even then it was normally played down.Like tonight. She didn't like boys, and she knew she didn't like boys, but no one else was aware of this fact. She always found different excuses. She was pretty, she could act like she had unreasonably high standards. But it was so much easier to say she hadn't let so and so take her out because he smoked, than to tell a boy to his face she wasn't interested. There was times when she could get out of it with less difficulty, but tonight was not in her favour as she'd been trapped talking to some annoying bro who couldn't take a hint. She travelled the room, he followed her. She said she was going to find a friend, he offered to help her find them. In her experience, lying about having a boyfriend normally did get guys to fuck off, but of course this one wouldn't. She felt panicked telling him her boyfriend wouldn't be impressed, and it only grew worse when he called her bluff. There was no way she'd admit to her lie after all of this, and instead with wobbly legs and shaky hands she insisted she'd prove it. She didn't take time to think of which boys were here, already had half an idea which boy was in mind that would hopefully (please for the love of all things holy) play along. "There you are," she said loudly, doe eyes wide and scared. "I know I said I'd let you talk with the guys, but I've been mistaken for single and had to prove you existed." She didn't wait to see if he got it or not, didn't turn to see if Fuckboy Supreme had actually followed her, just slid her arms around his middle and tucked in to his chest. She knew he could feel her shaking, all she could do was hope he was quick to understand why. @jeremy s. roseshe's driving me crazy
jeremy s. rose
posted Jun 15 2017, 12:20 PM by ananas [she/her] from
college student
size shifting

you ain't gon' win 'cause i'm the ref
He’d played a few rounds of beer pong, won most but lost two, and then had some shots, so he was doing pretty well. During the school year, Jeremy took pretty meticulous care of his body, only having the occasional one or two drinks — basketball was demanding. Over summer break, though, he was a little more willing to let loose. He wasn’t quite drunk, but he was definitely not quite sober, either, perhaps just a little more relaxed and leaning towards tipsy (bless his high alcohol tolerance). He’d wandered off from the drinking games to enter the kitchen, and he was just standing, nursing a red solo cup of a pretty weak rum and coke. He wasn’t interested in getting wasted tonight. He just wanted to hang out, talk to the guys, maybe end up “hooking up” with a girl if the situation called for it — usually when people started expecting him to walk off with somebody at the end of the night because everyone else was.

He’d just started thinking that maybe he should stop staring at Kelvin, and perhaps think about scoping out a pretty girl at the party, when he was caught off guard by someone walking right up and plastering herself to his side. “Uh —” He began, startled. He was about to gently tell her that she had the wrong person, he was definitely not her boyfriend, but he could feel her shaking, and her eyes were wide, and Jeremy wasn’t stupid and oblivious enough to miss the leer on the guy’s face as he followed hot on her trail. He brought his free hand up to settle around her waist, hoping that he wasn’t misinterpreting the situation. “Hey, are you okay?” he asked, eyebrows knitting together in concern. “Um, babe?” Hopefully his uncertainty sounded more like worry for her well-being, rather than a bad attempt at acting. (Hey, Jeremy wasn’t so bad at acting. He was hiding a lot from most people.)

His gaze moved up to the guy, and he raised his eyebrows in a challenge. He might have been gay (too fucking gay), but he knew how straight dudes acted when it came to their girlfriends. There was something weird, and possessive, and hypermasculine about it. He puffed up his chest. “Dude, there a problem?” He raised his voice a little, the challenge clear. Jeremy wasn’t drunk enough (or violent enough) to start going around starting fights for real, but the bravado would hopefully be enough to scare this creep off. The other guys were starting to notice the situation as well, turning their heads to see what was going on. He was just glad that none of them were particularly close friends, close enough to know that it was all a ruse. Hopefully none of them would call his bluff, too. He tightened his hold around Dusty’s waist. He only knew her very vaguely, from parties and classes and things like that, but she looked like she needed help.

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