lovebugism - Tumblr blog

[lovebugism]

picture this: me, debilitatingly sleep-deprived, coming home at 2 a.m. from a business trip only to find that my door won't unlock, so i have to climb through a window, where i then bust my ass on the way in like a cartoon character 😭 i'm glad to be back home but.. at what cost?

p.s. sorry for not being super active! im not ignoring anyone, i'm just drowning in school and work i fear :( i’ll answer my messages in the morning (or in a few hours ig lol) i love you all 💚

[lovebugism]

did it make sense? not reall. am i crying? absolutely i am

very excited to see how umbrella academy is going to wrap everything up in a one-hour series finale :) i'm sure it's going to make total sense and feel super rewarding :)

[lovebugism]

very excited to see how umbrella academy is going to wrap everything up in a one-hour series finale :) i'm sure it's going to make total sense and feel super rewarding :)

[lovebugism]

just so we're all clear: lila should not be kissing five. she shouldn't be kissing diego either. SHE SHOULD BE KISSING WOMEN!!!!

[lovebugism]

this is what he was warning us about btw

you're laughing. they're doing transgender operations on illegal aliens in prison, and you're laughing.

[lovebugism]

frame this and hang it in the louvre. i'm so serious

[lovebugism]

chappell roan winning best new artist while dressed as joan of arc after being announced by sasha colby and telling some random man to shut the fuck up. we won so bad

[lovebugism]

this look will be talked about for decades to come. mark my words

[lovebugism]

As a polisci major what did you think of the debate?

oh boy. thank u for giving me an excuse to be annoying about politics and a fanfic blog, anon <3 here's a very rambly list of all my thoughts:

first of all, it was really refreshing to see donald trump debate someone who's actually coherent this go around <3

also trump getting fact-checked within the first, like, ten minutes by a moderator telling him that "nowhere in the 50 states is it legal to kill a baby after it's born" was insane, but not shocking

kamala almost calling trump a "motherfucker" was beautiful to watch

also we really gotta find a better way to do these debates. i'm talking a team of fact-checkers standing by and, i don't know. maybe not letting people talk when it's not their turn!!!!!!!

(because trump should not get to say immigrants are eating dogs and just. get away with it)

(and trump getting his mic turned back on even when it wasn't his turn was pissing me off)

but alas

i was Really hoping that kamala would have been clearer about her policies for swing voters' sake, but i think there are certain stances she's not ready to elaborate on atp so her deflection makes sense

but basically all she had to do to win against trump was not be totally senile, so needless to say, she completely dominated (she's literally a career prosecutor so i expected nothing less)

meanwhile trump was spewing absolute nonsense the whole time, which is to be expected from him, but preying on people's fears for 90 minutes is sickening work

i don't even think he answered a single question that wasn't a complete lie. i lost brain cells every time he opened his mouth

also trump questioning kamala's race???? to her face??? she's braver than me because i would've lunged across the stage i fear

but anyway

i think tons of viewers left the debate tonight seeing kamala as a genuine candidate for the presidency, if they didn't already before

which makes me feel very hopeful

and if anyone still thinks trump is a fit candidate after he did nothing but lie the entire debate, well....... good luck charlie

[lovebugism]

you're laughing. they're doing transgender operations on illegal aliens in prison, and you're laughing.

[lovebugism]

i wanna go back in time and explain this to the founding fathers

[lovebugism]

annoying political science majors watching the presidential debate like it's the super bowl (it's me. i'm the annoying political science major)

[lovebugism]

since i've been getting a lot of asks and i want to make sure everyone's donation link is shared, here are the fundraisers that have reached out to me

(part 2)

— vetted

@mohammed--shehab / @hyamshehab222 (vetted here)

@asmaamajed2 (vetted here)

@save-amal-family (vetted here)

@faten-lolo12 / @fatensama12 (vetted here)

@besanalbalawi11 (vetted here)

@majedgaza1 (vetted here)

@emanabosedo (vetted by association here)

@dutifullymykid (vetted by association here)

@nevinalser (vetted here)

@fatma-anqer (vetted here)

@hassanmadi2 (vetted here)

@maria-gaza1 (vetted by association here)

@lina-gaza (vetted by association here)

@haneenmohamaad (vetted here)

@anasfamilys (vetted #25 here)

@basharal-habil / @basharbfamily (vetted by association here)

@mohamadsmeer35 (vetted here)

@yasermohammad (vetted here)

@abdallahblog0 / @abdallah-gaza (vetted here)

@sameh-mostafa20 / @rodainaayyad83 (vetted here)

@motaz-gaza / @huda-gaza (vetted by association here)

@mohammed-665 (vetted here)

@save-amal-family (vetted by association here)

@a-ss-123 (vetted by association here)

@atalah-mohammed (vetted here)

— unvetted

@mohammednasers-blog (clean reverse image search)

@aboodalqedra-2

@familygazaamal

@hebamatar

@scentedtyrantmusic

@ahmadallouh32

@ameerakhaled

@fatimaalbalawi2

@moatasemgaza

@helpamalm (clean reverse image search; gfm protected)

@a6h16

@salmagaza

@jomana-ha (gfm protected)

@acertainfadi

@em-omer

@tarbeen-family-2 (clean reverse image search)

@ayuwbfamily

@ehabayyad23

@osama-family (clean reverse image search; gfm protected)

last updated: september 7th

[lovebugism]

Hi I’m not trying to be like mean or start anything but in your recent fic, you wrote “The oversized tee you’re using as a makeshift cover-up floods your smaller form.” If you could, please include the tag that with petite!reader because that doesn’t account for everyone.

hi, anon! i almost rewrote that bit because i was scared people would misinterpret it 😭 by "smaller" i meant in comparison to the oversized shirt!!!

and just a wee sidenote: i always try to make my fics as inclusive as possible! i rarely felt included when i read fics growing up and i never want anyone else to feel left out in that way! some prompts might be more specific than others, but i usually try to write my reader inserts as general as possible! just wanted to clear that up moving forward 💚

[lovebugism]

heyy i have a request <33

just read ur shy reader x steve fic where she gives him his phone number back and then hits her head and he’s just so 🥰🥰🥰 abt it all. i know it’s a prequel to a fic where they’re finally together but could i politely request a fic from when they did get together. maybe tommy tries picking on her again but steve actually stops him that time🩷🩷🩷

thanks for requesting :D part of the king!steve universe! — steve defends you from his asshole friends (shy!fem!r established relationship, hurt/comfort | 1k)

The air smells overwhelmingly of the late summer season. Of nighttime and dewy grass and chlorine and Steve The Hair Harrington. 

The boy himself lazes in the lawn chair next to yours, much too far for your liking. The warm scent of his cologne lingers between you and cradles you in his absence. 

You tilt your chin to your shoulder and admire the sharp edges of Steve’s profile in silence. Your heavy eyes fall from his pronounced browbone, to the slope of his chiseled nose, and finally to the plush of his pink lips. Too pretty for his own good.

“You can swim if you want to,” you murmur when you catch him eyeing Tommy and Carol splashing each other in the steaming pool. “You know that, right?”

Steve’s brows furrow, as though offended by the question. “I’m okay here.”

“I just don’t want you to think you have to stay here with me—”

“I don’t care about swimming with those two shitheads, alright? Honest,” the boy interjects, then turns to look at you fully. Honey glitters in his dark eyes, which melt with a quiet adoration. In a similarly warm tone, he confesses, “I just wanna spend time with you.” 

A petaled smile blooms on your mouth. You purse your lips to the side in a futile attempt to conceal it, which only makes Steve’s smug grin grow. He knows what he’s doing to you. And it’s maddening.

“You can flirt with your girlfriend without being an asshole, you know?” Tommy calls from the shallow end of the pool, freckled arms folded along the concrete edge. He shakes wet hair from his face and jokes, “Dissing your friends isn’t exactly a turn-on. Ain’t that right, sweetheart?”

Your face burns when he turns to you. The unwanted attention makes your throat catch and your stomach do backflips. ‘Cause no matter how many times Steve invites you to these hangouts, you know you’ll never truly fit in. Not here. Not with them.

Steve, seemingly sensing your discomfort as you shift in your seat, calls back. “Hey, Tommy?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

"Dick,” the darker-haired boy chuckles. 

Carol swims over to him, then, and mounts his back. She wraps all her dainty limbs around him like a koala. Tommy accommodates her weight with little effort. “Hey, Wallflower. Why don’t you hop in? The water’s warm.”

As if you didn’t already know that you were less than friends, the use of the horrid nickname was further confirmation.

“I don’t know how to swim,” you confess in a mousy voice.

“I could always teach ya,” he offers, mostly polite, but still distantly creepy in his way. “You’ve got a bathing suit under all that, right?”

“Uh… Yeah?”

The corner of his mouth lifts in a faint smirk. His dark eyes flit up and down your form like he can see right through your oversized t-shirt. “Nice,” he hums.

Carol scoffs and swats his arm. “You’re such a boy.”

Tommy’s freckled face swirls with a boyish offense. “I just wanna know what she looks like under all those clothes! That’s all!” he argues like it’s normal. Like you aren’t there at all.

“Okay, Tommy,” Steve spits. “That’s just gross.”

“What?” he laughs

“You can’t— You can’t just say that!” the boy beside you retorts, talking wildly with his hands. “That’s, like, super sexist, dude.”

Even stewing in your red-hot embarrassment, he manages to get a smile out of you. Not that he’s trying to, anyway. He’s trying to stand up for you — the best he can, at least. It’s not his fault his boyishness is so damn adorable.

“Don’t act like you haven’t said worse shit, Harrington!” 

“Yeah, but I grew up! It’s not my fault you’re still fourteen!”

Tommy rears his arm back to splash him. The warm droplets of the heated pool land mostly on the boy beside you, dampening his sweatshirt in rogue places. A few fall gently on your arm when you flinch away.

“See. Now you’re just proving my point,” Steve deadpans.

“Hey, Wallflower!” Tommy shouts, if only to further provoke his best friend. “If you ever want a break from this hardass, give us a call, alright?”

Carol gasps in offense. “You’re so gross,” she giggles before splashing him with a lighthearted hand. To which Tommy responds with a much bigger, much more dramatic splash of his own. 

The two of them roughhouse like they hate each other and forget you were ever there, while you drown in a riptide of thoughts.

What did she mean by that? your mind races. Does the mere thought of you disgust her? Or does she realize how pervy her boyfriend is? Maybe it’s both. But the thought is still stomach-turning.

Steve looks over at you and softens all over again. “Sorry about him,” he mumbles.

His honeyed voice cuts through all the mean voices in your head. You blink hard and turn to him with less glazed-over eyes. “You’re real cute, you know?” you say with a wavering, mostly sincere grin.

He only shrugs and swipes an anxious hand through his hair, ducking away when his cheeks start to speckle a burning pink color. The chocolate strands fall back over his forehead once more. 

“He doesn’t get to talk to you like that,” he murmurs sheepishly. “Or anyone, but… Especially you.”

“Hardass,” you quip with a mischievous squint.

Steve sends you a playful glare in return. You cave with a pretty laugh. He grins at the sound of it and settles back in his plastic lounge chair, blinking up at the velvet night sky.

“It’s feel good, though,” he mutters with his arms folded over his stomach.

Your brows pinch. “What does?”

“Being the only one who gets to see you under all that.”

Steve flashes you a smirk — pretty, pink, and lopsided. You meet the petaled expression with a lighthearted glower despite the sparkles burning like embers in your chest. 

“Does it?” you monotone.

“Yep,” he answers, popping the p. “It’s an honor, really.”

“Shut up.”

“I feel like I deserve a medal, honestly.”

“Shut up.”

[lovebugism]

LOVEBUGISM RETURN YASSSS

the world may strip me of my will to live, but it will have to pry my silly little fics from my cold dead hands <3

[lovebugism]

i feel like eddie doesn’t seem himself as “hot” but obviously you do. you’re on your way to a pool party and steve’s and he walks out in just swim trunks asking if he looks okay (they were thrifted and he’s just making sure they fit correctly okay 🥹). y’all barely even make it to steve’s because you can’t get over how GOOD this man looks.

you're so real for this anon. ty for requesting :D — the one where eddie munson has no idea how pretty he is (established relationship, hurt/comfort, cw for mentions of body insecurity and allusions to smut 18+ | 1.1k)

Eddie stands in the corner of your bedroom, before the full-length mirror propped against the wall, and pokes himself once in the stomach. The pale, pudgy skin there dips under his pointer finger before bouncing back in place. He can’t stop looking at his tummy, which sits just barely over the hem of his swim trunks. 

It’s hardly noticeable. Nothing anyone else would bother looking twice at. But to him, it’s so distressingly obvious that the sight alone makes his chest ache.

“Do these look okay?” Eddie mumbles absentmindedly, not looking back at you as he runs his ringed fingers under the elastic edge of the plain black shorts. The gesture is obviously an anxious one — like, if he does it enough times, maybe he can stretch it out a bit. (It hasn’t quite worked for him yet.)

Your silence is palpable and hardly encouraging. 

Eddie looks at you over his shoulder, deep brown eyes glimmering with melted chocolate and distant worry, half-hidden behind his wild curls. He finds you lying in the middle of your bed — with your head in your palms and your feet kicked up behind you — staring right at him.

Your eyes meet. You blink hard, face burning as your glazed-over gaze regains its life once more. “Hm?” you hum, then clear your throat.

Eddie’s lips quirk faintly upward. A mere flicker of a smile at your coyness. “I asked if these looked okay.”

You look him up and down to admire his form, (which you’d been doing the entire time, in truth, only now you’ve got the go-ahead for your unabashed leering.) 

Your boy is a tower of milky white quartz — full of lanky limbs, fading tattoos, and dustings of sparse hair. As far as you’re concerned, Eddie Munson was carved by Michaelangelo himself. A hand-crafted sculpture lost to time who somehow wormed his way into your heart and Forest Hills trailer park alike. 

Your eyes trail from his pretty face, to his long neck, to the black widow tattooed on his collarbone. They land finally on the happy trail below his belly button that disappears into his swim shorts. 

Your breath catches in your throat. You swallow hard and try to come up with something to say as your brain short-circuits.

“Yeah. Yeah, they look— they look great, Eds,” you stammer, rising from your lounged position on the bed to sit along the edge of it. You squeeze your thighs together when a dull throbbing settles suddenly between them. “Do they fit okay?”

Eddie, unaware of your blossoming desire, turns away. He looks back at his reflection, and his eyes fall immediately to his stomach. He runs his pointer fingers under the hem of the shorts and pretends it does something. Though, it doesn’t change how much of his torso is on display just now. Or how pale his lanky legs are after being hidden all summer season.

“I think so,” he murmurs with an unconvincing waver to his voice. He shifts his weight on his bare feet and caves. “I don’t know— I think I’m just gonna change.” 

You rise from the squeaking mattress. The oversized tee you’re using as a makeshift cover-up floods your smaller form. You catch the boy’s wrist before he can reach for the clothes he left in a pile on your floor. 

“You promised you weren’t gonna wear jeans!” you protest in a playful whine.

Eddie meets your pout with a more exaggerated one — brows twisted, nose scrunched, mouth snarled.  “I know, but I hate these,” he says with a louder whine.

“I don’t want you to get heat stroke and die,” you confess, mousy and obviously sarcastic, as you fall into the boy’s bare chest. 

You wrap both arms around his waist and rest your chin on his sternum, blinking up at him with pretty, glittering eyes. You can smell the floral shampoo in his hair from here, and the musky cologne on his neck you bought for him last Christmas.

Eddie cups your cheeks with softly calloused palms. “Good to know,” he quips with a lopsided smile that he then kisses you with. The crooked grin tastes faintly of nicotine and boy — a nostalgic feeling more than a real flavor.

“I’m serious, Eds,” you tell him with a stern glint in your eyes, chin bobbing against his chest with every word. “They look great on you, okay? Cross my heart.”

His chest sparkles at the compliment. Warms so much it starts to hurt all over again. 

And it’s not that he thinks you’re lying, he just wishes he believed you more. Or that he could see himself through your eyes or something. They always get so squishy around the edges when you look at him — with an adoration he doesn’t know he deserves.

“You’d tell me if I look like an idiot, though, right?” he wonders, half-joking.

“I tell you you look like an idiot all the time,” you deadpan, equally half-joking.

That gets a laugh out of him. “Fair enough,” the boy nods with a quiet chuckle.

“But I like these. Seriously. You should wear them,” you advise firmly and step back from him. Eddie mourns the warmth of your body when only your hands reach out to touch him. “And you can blame them for making us late…”

Eddie’s brows furrow at the mischievous lilt in your voice. “We don’t have to be at Steve’s for another, like, fifteen minutes,” he insists with a breathy laugh that gets caught in his throat when your hand dips under the hem of his swim trunks. “Oh?” he hums with a crooked smile.

You nod with your bottom lip trapped between your teeth. The fuzzy hair of his happy trail tickles the soft skin of your fingertips. His skin is soft and warm and inviting. Your hand starts to ache with the longing to feel him completely.

Eddie forgets how to breathe when you cup his stiffening cock in your supple palm. His eyes go heavy as his pink mouth falls softly agape. “Oh…” he repeats, deeper and more far away this time.

You grin in the face of his distant pleasure, which you seem to give him with little effort now (like a total fucking minx.) Eddie’s chest twists at the roguish twinkle in your eye. He knows he’s surely in for it now, but he doesn’t mind it. He yearns for it, really.

He only hopes that Steve won’t mind either — when the two of you show up at his place a half hour or more late, mussed with an obvious pleasure and reeking of it just the same.