#how did i write 3 whole essays about him and then shit out this piece | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eijishimas · 3 years

Text

caught red handed.

18+ nsfw content. minors dni. all characters are aged up.

masterlist.

content warnings: f!reader, college!au, masturbation, mentions of alcohol, voyeurism, daddy kink, bit of a handjob, bit of oral (m!receiving), filming, slight degradation, creampie, one (1) instance of bakugou slapping your pussy.

notes: happy belated birthday to my bestie, @rekiri . you deserve the world and so much more, you’re sweet and hilarious and i fucking love talking to you, whether we’re joking or being more serious. i know you told me not to, but i really wanted to write something for you as a gift (because ya girl is a bit of a broke bitch). ik it’s not eren, kiri, or reki, but i hope you like this piece regardless. i love you, even if you annoy me to death, you whore /j. this one’s for you <3

wc: 2.6k | inspo (nsfw link): xxx

Everyone knew college was stressful. Deadlines nearly every single week, assignments and essays, not to mention attending classes brought a whole new wave of anxieties for students every single day. Sometimes that stress was either doubled or relieved by having a partner for a project or two. Luckily for you, you and your old high school classmate Katsuki Bakugou were paired up for a project for one of your Quirk Law classes. It was a research project, one that required a forty slide presentation. You were headed on your way to Katsuki’s dorm today to work on it at the time you agreed upon: 5pm. Then you two would study together for upcoming midterms. It was all planned out down to a tee. So at around 3:50pm, Katsuki knew he had time. He figured he needed a break from his Rescue Tactics Indoors II class, otherwise his brain would begin oozing from his ears.

Pushing aside his overpriced textbook, he rolled his shoulders back, hearing the cracks of his stiff muscles while he stretched at his desk. He let out a sigh, propping his chin up on the palm of his hand as he scrolled mindlessly through his socials. Mina had posted a Throwback Thursday post, an old one of him and you back in your freshman year of college. His nose twitched in annoyance as he recalled the parties, more specifically Denki Kaminari’s birthday party, where he had gotten so drunk that the walls melted and bent before him. Katsuki’s expression changed however, as he swiped through the collection of photos to stumble across an image of you and him. Have you always worn dresses that tight? You practically had your ass out from how short your garment had been cut, tits threatening to spill out of your low hanging neckline. Not only that, but Katsuki had an arm slung around your shoulder. His smile was stretched wide due in part to the alcohol in his system, but also because you were standing next to him. You were laughing at something Mina had said behind the camera, your hand tossed against the slightly unbuttoned shirt Katsuki had worn that night. Your fingers had brushed against his toned chest and he scoffed at the thought. Slowly but surely, memories of that party flooded back to Katsuki in waves.

They were mostly recounts from Kirishima and Mina, but apparently you two had made out in front of everyone that night. He swiped left again, swallowing dryly as he saw just that. Your manicured fingers were wrapped tight around his party shirt, tongues in a deadly dance of want and desperation for each other. Katsuki’s eyes grew as he noticed that the photo hadn’t cut out the part where he had been kneading your ass through that skimpy dress of yours. Immediately, Katsuki went to Mina’s dms demanding to take down the photo. And she did, thank god, but not without sending Katsuki more than ten photos of you and him making out at the party. He clenched his jaw, anger and a low desire plaguing his conscience. Glancing to the top left corner of his phone, he noted the time. 4:10pm.

He had time.

Saving the photos to his gallery, he pushed his chair away from his desk to have some fucking breathing room. His eyes flitted down to his sweats and as he expected, there was a tent forming. He groaned, wiping the sweat from his palms off on his pant leg before languidly beginning to palm himself through his clothes. His breaths quickened, chest stuttering as he looked to his phone displaying the photos of you and him. There’s a faint recollection in the back of his head of how you taste. Like cherries from your glossy lips, like vodka from the shots you took off of Denki earlier that evening, how you moaned into his mouth the night you had drunkenly kissed.

Katsuki tugged the waistband of his sweats down, allowing his previously constrained cock to breathe. It slapped against his stomach, heavy and leaking. Shit, he didn’t remember being this horny at the beginning of this. Spitting into his palm, he lubed up his dick as best as he could on short notice. His eyelids drooped as he swiped through the pictures like a filmstrip, a montage of all the best moments he had with you at that party. You grinding on his lap, you whispering dirty ideas you wanted to do with him later, you, you, you…

Katsuki squeezed his aching shaft, fisting his cock as precum dribbled down his slippery head. His face was an uncanny shade of crimson, a testament to how horny he was all for a few old pictures of the two of you. “Y/n.” He swore he barely recognized his voice from how breathless and needy it was. He continued to pump his cock, the only thoughts replaying in his mind were perverted fantasies of you bouncing on his dick hard enough to hear the slap of your ass cheeks against his abs.

Tapping the screen of his phone twice to zoom in, he admired your curves with pursed lips. Fuck, you really were gorgeous. Everything about you radiated a sinful nature he could never put his tongue on. You were tempting him, licking flames up his body with such intensity that made him shiver. He cursed, thumb drifting over his slit as he hissed. Fuck you for being as ravishing as you were that night, fuck you for making him feel so goddamn needy for your-

“Bakugou, I was about to text you but I remembered you were studying today, so I figured it would be okay if I came a bit...” your words trailed off. You blinked rapidly in an attempt to process the scene unfolding before you. Katsuki Bakugou, holding his dick in his hand, face on fire with a deep blush, his other free hand secure around his phone with- was that a picture of you from your freshman year of college? There was a beat of silence, Katsuki’s uneven breathing the only sound in the room aside from the low drawl of the ceiling fan over both of your heads. You gaped at him, tongue darting out to wet your lips upon realizing his hand hadn’t stopped moving. If anything, you saw his hand flex around his cock, further tightening his grip as you stood right in front of him.

“What the fuck-”

“What?” he beat you to the punch, his lips twitching into a devilish smile, “Don’t like what you see?” His confidence knocked the air out of you, your bewildered attitude showing true on your features. Your body feels warm, searing beneath his gaze. “Excuse me?” you squeaked out, overcome with both curiosity and a hint of lust for the ash blond.

“Are you gonna fucking help me or not?” His pride was refusing him to be flustered, not when he was this feverish for you. He needed the upper hand, he needed control over this situation. And it seemed by how you were shifting your weight from side to side, that it was happening just as he wanted. Who were you to refuse such an offer from Katsuki Bakugou?

And that’s how you ended up here, nestled between thick, muscled thighs with your hand wrapped around his throbbing cock. He had you spit over his dick, his entire shaft gleaming in all its glory as it stood to attention in your grasp. The flash of his camera burned your eyes as you suckled on his crown, hand continuously jerking his cock while he ravenously watched you through the screen. The guttural groan that escaped him was nothing short of music to your ears, your thighs tensing as the coils of heat continued to build and knot between your legs.

“Mm. Keep going like that, take it. All the way in now, like a good little slut,” Katsuki instructed, his voice slicing through the heavy atmosphere of desire. The words make you whimper, enveloping his sensitive head in vibrations while you lick around his slit. A large hand cupped your face, forcing you to make eye contact with the ash blond behind the camera. His black tank top truly had no confines over him, since it was tight enough to see the outlines of his pecs and ripped torso. Katsuki sure worked hard to maintain his appearance, but you knew he had the strength to back those muscles up. The thought of him completely dominating you, holding you with strong arms and pinning you down with his body made your pussy even more wet with your slick than it already was. Even from how you were on your knees, Katsuki possessed an unspoken will over you. You wanted to please him, make him feel good, make him have no good reason not to give you everything he had to offer.

You took your lips off of his head with a little ‘pop’, eyes wide and expectant as a string of drool connected your bottom lip to the tip of his cock. Bakugou’s smile grew, making sure your face was completely in frame and in focus. “Dirty girl,” he hummed, thumb tracing the apple of your cheek before guiding your lips toward his twitching cock. You slowly kissed the vein on the side of it, mumbling out four words:

“Your dirty girl, daddy.”

The moment the words left your mouth, Katsuki let out a low, gravelly moan. It was as if a switch inside him had flipped. Without warning, he’s pulling you off the floor and sitting you down in his desk chair instead. He’s a bit rough, his vision clouded by the sheer want to fuck you until you were screaming his name, until his name was the only word your pretty little brain could recall. He abandoned his phone and instead had his hands drop to the armrests of his desk chair, encasing your body as he towered over you. Your skirt was immediately shucked up your waist and Katsuki’s hands went to work on your panties. He ripped them off completely, tossing them aside without a care as to where they went. He gazed down at you with fervour, licking his lips at the sight of your dripping cunt.

“Who’s pussy is this?” he coaxes with a grin, teeth shining. His hand slipped between your thighs, his index and middle finger tracing up and down your slit. Goosebumps erupted across your skin, your thighs instinctively closing around his hand. Your face bloomed with warmth, eyes darting away from his cocky demeanour, “Baku—”

Your body jolted as a firm smack was delivered to your sensitive pussy, a wet, lewd sound meeting your ears as he did. It made a high pitched, whiny moan be pulled out from your throat.

Fuck.

“Try again,” he ordered, tone demanding and almost condescending. His lips ghosted yours yet he never had any intention of moving close enough to seal the gap between the two of you. You whimpered, eyes meeting the dark red irises that were staring straight through you.

“‘S yours, daddy.”

“Now that’s a good fuckin’ girl.”

His lips found yours, teeth tugging at your bottom lip hard enough to make the warmth in your stomach double. The liquid heat had been building ever since you walked in, and you were fairly certain that you weren’t going to last much longer.

He hooked your knees over his elbows, biceps flexing as the muscles in his arms supported your full weight. He picked you up with such ease, your arms flying around his neck as you squeal, gasping at how little effort that took him. He was a pro-hero in training, of course he had practiced lifting people up no matter their body type or size. Either way, it didn’t matter to him. He thought you looked rather angelic clinging onto him regardless. He wasn’t even breaking a sweat with his hands spreading your cheeks, grunting as he adjusted you in his arms. He slid slowly into your slick cunt inch by suffocating inch, your walls fluttering and enclosing around his throbbing cock. Katsuki’s breathing was unsteady, eyes watching your expression intently in hopes that this new position would give you as much pleasure as it was giving him. His ego was running rapant from how you were holding onto him for dear life. You were practically shaking in his grasp, mouth open in an ‘o’ shape as all you could do was gape at how deep he reaches within you. You were keening, eyes hazed with lust and nails digging crescents into his shoulder blades hard enough to make him hiss.

When you finally catch your breath and adjust to his size, you give him a curt nod as an indication for him to start moving. Slowly, he lifted you up off his cock until his head kissed your entrance before allowing gravity to do most of the work. This position had his cock nudging your cervix and it made the knot in the pit of your stomach squeeze further, threatening to snap with every loud smack of his balls echoing through his dorm room. He pistoned into you like that, reaching deeper to rearrange your insides. It was like your entire body was being engulfed with pleasure and fire. He took in your face, how it scrunched in pleasure, hair sticking to your face as you mumble out how much you want to cum, how much you need to cum.

“Fuckin’ tight just for daddy, hah?” he cooed to you, “You wanna cum all over my cock like a little slut? You were watching me from the door jerking off for you. Dirty fuckin’ girl. Who’s making you feel good? Say it. Spit it out.”

“You!” you moaned, your head feeling light from the way the veins on the side of his cock rubbed your walls, “You, daddy. Please let me cum. I w- wanna cum!”

“I can’t hear you,” Katsuki rumbled, eyes steeled before you unmoving and unwilling to give you permission just yet. “Please!” you begged, “I’m a dirty girl. I’m your dirty girl, daddy! Please let me cum!” You were too engrossed in your pleasure to have any semblance of shame. Katsuki grinned. That’s what he wanted to hear. He let out a tiny ‘tch’ before uttering out, “Then cum, slut.”

Without another word, you let out a final wanton moan, gushing around him as the liquid heat finally expels from your body. Your orgasm hits you in waves, your body quivering with each new sensation as you hold Katsuki’s cock within your cunt. Your nails leave angry red marks along Katsuki’s shoulders, ultimately sending him hurtling towards his own release.

Cum dripped down his twitching cock, your chest heaving as your legs feel like jelly. Tingles shot down your spine as Katsuki pumped rope after rope of his sticky cum well enough to paint your inner walls white. He helped you ride out your high, delivering harsh bitemarks to your neck to leave a mural of hickeys claiming you as his. The smile he gives you is cocky, prideful, and arrogant. He placed you back down on his desk chair, your thighs still going through the aftershocks of your high. Reaching for his phone, he tapped the app icon for his camera. He knelt down, chuckling as your fingers slid between your legs to spread your lower lips for him. His cum seeped out past your slit, leaking down to your puckered asshole.

“There we go. Aren’t you daddy’s good girl, hm?”

Tiredly, you nodded.

“‘M daddy’s good girl.”

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dadsbongos · 2 years

Text

"O, speak again, bright angel, for thou art as glorious to this night.”

Chapter 3 / Series Masterlist / Previous Chapter

6.1K words

MONDAY. 2:50 PM.

“Tryst?”

“Tryst.”

“That’s not a word that’s a medication or some shit.”

“No,” you bat his arm and shake your head, “‘tryst’ is a bona fide word. It means an agreement to be present at a specified time and place.”

“Okay, and how do you spell bona fide?” he shoves a spare piece of scribbled-on loose leaf paper in front of you, “Because I swear to God people like you are just making up letter arrangements and calling it words.”

“People like me?” you write down the word and pass the sheet back to Eddie, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Smartasses,” he teases and looks down at the paper, “Oh, shit, I’ve been spelling this so wrong.”

“How did you spell it?”

“Uh, I can’t look at you while I do this,” he averts his eyes, “B O N E I F I E D - all one words. And yes, I did use it in a school paper - multiple, in fact.”

“Oh my God,” you groan, “Eddie Munson, why would you use a word when you don’t know how it’s spelled?”

“Because I wanted to sound smart.”

“Well, I bet your teachers appreciated the effort.”

“Definitely didn’t, considering I’m 19 going on 20 and still in high school.”

You had your materials for English set out by the time Eddie arrived at the library. But Eddie was prone to distraction and you were quickly finding that when it came to him, so were you.

“Tryst, though,” your leg starts bouncing before you realize it, without noticing that Eddie’s leg was bouncing this whole time, “I was thinking,” you watch Eddie actually pull out his work now, “about the play I mentioned Friday. I was wondering… if you would like to come? It probably won’t even be packed, but I figured I’d just ask.”

As if he can sense your nerves, Eddie grins, “Hell yeah, who wouldn’t wanna see our resident genius on stage?”

You return his smile and kick your legs on the chair, eyes falling to the clock on the wall, “I can’t remember the exact date,” a lie, but you choose to not seem overeager, “but I can secure you two tickets. So you aren’t alone or anything.”

Little do you know, Eddie just thinks the way you’re trying to not show how excited you clearly are is adorable.

Now, however, it’s his turn to be embarrassed as he moves an unfinished essay before you. It’s marred with lead smears and eraser marks - his introduction paragraph showing clear signs of being written and rewritten repeatedly.

He sheepishly scratches the back of his neck and is more than ashamed to reason, “I have no idea how to write a thesis statement.”

“Oh, - it’s just a line of reasoning or argument,” you scooch closer to Eddie and he automatically leans into you, “Like, if we were fighting right now about the best color and you were to say it was black and I said it was green - your thesis statement could be something as simple as ‘black is the best color’,” he nods slowly, brows furrowing, “But since this is an academic paper, you’ll need something more complicated.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Eddie shakes his head, his pencil’s eraser jabbing into his paper, “I just don’t how mine is wrong.”

“Let me see,” your eyes scan what he has written down so far.

The novel 1984 shows the impacts of widespread communism by it’s mass surveillance and use of doublethink.

“It’s literally all I could think of and she keeps just telling me it’s wrong and I don’t know what to do,” you can hear how frustrated Eddie sounds and it makes your heart clench.

You shake your head at him and hope that the action is enough to give him hope, “No, this is good - it’s just more about totalitarianism than communism. So, think of something that’s related to communism and how you can form that into the essay.”

“Uh,” Eddie turns to stare at the paper, eyes closing as he thinks, and you wait patiently until he shrugs, “economy’s shit.”

“Yeah,” you nearly bang a hand on the table but refrain for the sake of other students’ in the library, “so, what more about that?”

“Well, what’s-his-ass lives in a bad apartment, right?” you nod and Eddie continues, “And everybody eats poorly, so there’s not enough to go around,” you hum and make an effort to quietly clap.

“Good job,” you tilt your head, laying it in your palm, “I’ll let you in on a secret. The only other point I could think of was the political control, which is breaching totalitarianism again, but if you’re vague enough then she just gives you the points.”

“Are you serious?” his eyes widen, “That’s such bullshit.”

You hum in agreement, “I know, right?”

“So, political control - “ Eddie clenches his eyes as he thinks, “The Party is the only form of government and they just torture whoever so that they can get confessions to crimes, right?”

“Pretty much,” you nod and then sit up straight, “So, now that we have our reasons - we should work a bit of formatting.”

“What’s wrong with my formatting?” his brows furrow and before you register what you’re doing, you reach out and smooth out the skin.

Instead of focusing on your own actions, you start talking, “Nothing, but there’s just a more specific way that teachers like…” your eyes dart from Eddie to the clock and back to Eddie, “It’s weird.”

“Then, show me your magic, princess,” he leans back as if to give you free reign of his paper.

The nickname that rolled from his tongue is meant to be nothing but a tease at your infamously proper nature, but the way he says it leaves your chest tighter than you’d like to admit.

“It’s really easy, I promise,” you assure, “For starters, essays can usually be started with something like, ‘In the novel 1984, written by George Orwell’,” Eddie’s fingers come down to rhythmically tap the table as you speak, “Then you just reference your topic and the details you’re using. Also, you used the wrong form of contraction. It should be ‘its’ with no apostrophe - since you’re using it to reference a noun.”

“Uh,” Eddie moves the paper back in front of him, “okay. Okay,” he nods, “Okay.”

Once again, you wait patiently for Eddie to gather his thoughts before he starts erasing and writing over his marks. Then, he passes it to you, leg bouncing faster and his hands drumming quicker against the table.

In his novel 1984, George Orwell shows the effects of widespread communism by the economic difficulties and political control by The Party.

“I kept wanting to write hard-on instead of difficulties but, you know,” Eddie admits once he can tell you’re finished reading.

“I can sense that,” you nod, “This is really good, you should be proud.”

And he is, he can feel his chest puffing up at your praise.

“Now, let’s talk about how to format our evidence,” your eyes fall back to the essay and you nearly wince at the lack of pages cited, “and citations.”

“Great, great, great,” Eddie nods, “and what are those?”

…

If you wanted to be able to get to work on time by walking from school, you should’ve left five minutes ago - at 3:40.

“Oh my gosh!” you shoot up from your seat and start packing away your work.

“‘Gosh,’” Eddie squints at you, “are you a cartoon character?”

“I’m gonna be so late,” you shake your head, “Sorry, Eddie, I have to get to work. Like, now.”

“I can drive you,” Eddie almost laughs at how surprised you look to hear him say that, “I’m not a dick, princess.”

“I never said you were,” you pout as Eddie hauls his bag over a shoulder after shoving his papers away.

“I could see it,” he waves off, guiding you to his van in the parking lot.

“You couldn’t see anything because I wasn’t thinking it,” you insist, hurrying to catch up with Eddie’s long strides.

He hums like he doesn’t believe you and knowing his experience in school, you can’t blame him.

Eddie puts on the radio and another song your parents would puke from hearing comes on. You look at him and he takes a glance at you.

He pretends that your doe eyes have no effect as he only says, “Black Sabbath.”

“Ah,” you pretend to know who that is.

Once again, you can feel something break out within your veins while sitting next to Eddie listening to metal. Exhilarating, you decide.

“You know,” you break the silence, turning and resting your head to look at Eddie, “about the play - you should have auditioned.”

His hands are tapping at the steering wheel with the rhythm of the song, something you now assume he does often, “And give everyone more reason to make my life hell? Doesn’t sound like my best option.”

He’s right, but even so, you can’t help from muttering, “Bummer. Would’ve been great working with you, Munson.”

“Then I’d miss out on your leading lady performance from the audience. Also not my best option.”

Flattery usually doesn’t work on you, but the way Eddie says it so simply - like it’s absolute fact - makes your heart stutter for just a moment.

“I never got the idea of performing like that,” he admits, “I mean, don’t get me wrong - I like giving a show to my band’s five drunks - Tuesdays at The Hideout, by the way,“ he winks and you can’t help but giggle at the obvious plug, “but school plays sound so…”

“Shit?”

If Eddie weren’t driving, you’re certain he would’ve scrambled to clutch his pearls, “Swearing? You? No way.”

“I’m sheltered, not a child.”

“Of course, of course,” he relents, “but yeah. School plays just sound like an invitation for a public meltdown. You fuck up one line and everyone hates you.”

“I think that’s almost part of the appeal,” you shrug, “For me, at least. It’s weird, but I think I like that adrenaline.”

You know you like that adrenaline, but something about that commitment is lost on you when you’re explaining it aloud (Neurasthenia, you decide, from neuro for ‘nerve’ and asthenia for ‘weakness’. Coined by a young Dr. George Miller Beard in 1869. Now more commonly referred to as ‘anxiety’).

You want to know what it’s like. To be thrown to the wolves - just for a moment. For someone to lock you outside in the middle of a zombie horde before dragging you back in, you crave the pounding of your heart in a controlled setting. Class presentations are sluggish hell that nobody is really paying attention to. But school plays are just out of reach enough to be desirable. You want to feel alive - in a controlled setting.

Everyone coming is expecting flubbed lines and poor choreography. It’s all families and friends and a few teachers - nobody important is coming.

But when Eddie throws out a line about sitting in the front row just to see you all dolled up as Juliet Capulet, your mind blanks.

“Huh?” you dumbly mutter.

“I look forward to seeing you all fancy,” Eddie repeats.

Not exactly the way your brain translated it, but if you clogged your ears enough - you could act like it’s really what you heard.

“Well, I look forward to seeing the Eddie Munson actually at school for longer than he has to be.”

“The Eddie Munson is not as excited about that, but,” he grins and you think the sight is more charming than anything the basketball team could drum up, “anything for you, princess.”

“Why do you call me that?” you tilt your head, dreading the fact you can see Family Video coming closer into view - halfway because work and halfway because it means you can’t talk to Eddie anymore.

“You’re like a princess,” he shrugs, “sweet ‘n’ pretty,” he turns to you and unbuckles as you do, “I can also see you leading an army.”

To say Steve’s eyes widen like dinner plates when he sees you walk into Family Video with Eddie “the freak” Munson would be an insult to dinner plates. You wave at him and Robin before rushing off to the bathroom to change into your uniform.

Eddie, meanwhile, strolls over to the counter and leans in so his head is resting on his hands, he looks up at Steve and smiles sweetly, “Hi, Harrington.”

“Munson,” Steve bites back bitterly.

Robin steps up beside her friend and waves, “Buckley.”

“Buckley,” Eddie nods at her in acknowledgment, “How are you two on this fine evening?”

“Cut the shit, Munson, what’re you still doing here?” Steve glares down at the metalhead.

“What? I can’t catch up with beloved former classmates?” Eddie sardonically pouts.

“Not when you’re doomed to repeat senior year until the state makes you drop out as a 21-year-old burnout,” even Robin gasps at that.

All humor suddenly drops from Eddie’s face as he stands up straight, “Fuck you, Harrington, I’ll get it this time,” he points at the bathroom you just ran into, “I got the smartest person in Hawkins helping me, so just watch. I’ll graduate.”

“Yeah, and stay away from her, by the way,” if it weren’t for the fact that they were trapped within the confines of a public workplace, Steve would be grabbing Eddie by the collar and shaking him cartoonishly - he’s sure, “You’re a bad influence and she doesn’t need that. Especially when she’s so close to getting valedictorian.”

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie pretends to think as he glares at Steve, “‘cuz I was always the one that people had to protect their daughters from.”

“If you so much as- "

Before Steve gets the chance to finish, you come out of the bathroom and flit to the backroom to punch your timecard, then return to the front counter.

“Lookin’ good, princess,” Eddie drawls as you approach him at the counter.

“Keep it in your pants, Munson,” Steve huffs.

To his surprise, you push Steve away and shake your head, “Don’t mind him.”

“Never did,” it’s a lie and everyone can tell, but he’s granted a small mercy in the form of nobody saying anything.

Eddie can’t determine what it is exactly, but with you leaning against the counter and staring up at him with those sweet eyes - his chest aches in a strangely delicious way. His angel of Family Video, is the intrusive thought to follow, and he can’t find it in himself to be ashamed of it.

“You know,” your brows raise as he speaks, “if you want another ‘taste of the other side’, you’re always welcome at my trailer.”

“Oh, I don’t know, I’m not off for a few hours,” you look at the clock - 3:52 PM, “Are you sure? I wouldn’t wanna disrupt your schedule.”

Eddie’s grin makes you snap to the realization that he’s about to tease you, but you can’t bring it in yourself to shut him down, “Do you have a bedtime, princess?”

You sigh but respond in kind, “I try to be in bed by ten.”

“Well, that’s plenty of time,” Eddie throws his arms out, “Doesn’t matter the time, just the company - and if you’re there, the company is mighty sweet.”

The giggle that pulls from you makes you feel foolish, but the way Eddie brightens at the sound seems to make it well worth, “I’m off at 8:40.”

“I will be here at 8:40,” Eddie raps his knuckles to the wood counter before walking backwards out of the store, “That’s a promise!”

“I was almost hoping he’d trip,” Robin admits once Eddie’s out of the store.

“I was expecting you to start giggling and kicking your feet,” Steve stares at you in disgust.

“Yeah, whatever,” you huff but there’s still the remnants of a smile that you notice seems to come up whenever Eddie’s in question.

Robin is also grinning, hers, however, is more ribbing, “Someone’s got a crush.”

“Shut up,” you shake your head, “I do not. I’m just hanging out with a friend.”

“Even that is too far,” Steve interjects.

“Whatever, Mom,” you and Robin groan in sync and roll your eyes.

“I’m just saying,” Robin leans in to mutter, “that was adorable and you were so cheesing.”

“I was not cheesing, also that’s a gross way to put it.”

“Cheesing!” Robin sings.

“I was not,” you huff.

You totally were.

9:10 PM.

To be fair to you, you did say you try to be in bed by ten, not that you always are.

Fifty minutes until your parents would have wanted you asleep and yet you’re in Eddie Munson’s trailer bathroom changing out of your work uniform. You’d called your mother just minutes ago and lied to her directly for the first time since fifth grade when you said you did all your math homework but had not, in fact, done all of it.

“Keith just needs me here for a little while longer. I’ll call when I’m off, I promise. Yes, Mom, I’ll get a ride. Yes, I have my key. Okay. Okay, bye. Love you.”

“Oh, Dad’s home - do you wanna say hi?”

You pretended to already be in the process of hanging up and simply clicked the phone to the receiver.

Once again, the exhilaration of rebelling against an iron fist was returning. And good God did you find it addicting.

You can only imagine what your parents would be saying to you right now. How shocked your teachers would be that their beloved little top student was hanging around Eddie Munson. In his trailer no less.

Scandalized, you think. That’s exactly what they would all be.

When you get to Eddie’s room, his head shoots up and you can see he’s rooting through his metal lunchbox.

“Sorry,” his eyes flicker from you to his pale of drugs and back to you, “I didn’t hear you.”

An absolute lie, but he’d been on a roll of counting stock and didn’t want to stop because he knew he’d forget later.

In the time you take to respond he quickly finishes counting but before he can shut the box you stammer, “Actually, I- uh - was thinking.”

“Oh?”

“I think I wanna smoke…” you mumble.

“Think or know?” Eddie raises a brow, “That’s very important.”

“Know,” you nod curtly and settle down onto the carpet next to him.

“Alright, princess,” he rises from his place against the wall of his room and points at his bedroom door, “I have to get a few things - and then I’ll show you how to take a hit.”

You nod eagerly and Eddie leaves - returning moments later with two glasses of water and a lighter tucked between his teeth.

Taking the water he hands you - you watch Eddie pull out a small bag of weed and take the lighter from his mouth. And you especially watch as he rolls the weed into a small square paper, or more specifically - you watch the way his muscles flex and the peek of his veins as he moves.

“You’re just gonna suck it, sort of like a straw,” Eddie holds up the joint between two fingers once it’s lit, “but not too much. Just little hits right now, and only a couple at a time so we can see how you feel,” you nod meekly and he brings the joint to his lips, “I’ll do it first - just watch, okay?”

You’re thankful he does it multiple times before passing it to you because if you’re honest, you had trouble paying attention during the first example. Too keen on seeing how his cherry lips carefully came around the joint and how he quietly gasped as he breathed in the smoke. Eddie was pretty, of course, he was - you may not know why it’s now that you’re paying so much attention, but you do know you don’t mind all that much either.

Carefully, you bring the joint to your lips and copy how Eddie did, though not for as long as he did. You let go and breathe in quickly to hold the smoke - waiting for a beat before releasing it. Your face scrunches and Eddie can’t help but chuckle quietly when you start to cough, though he does pick up the water at your side and press it into your hands.

“I don’t feel anything,” you look at him once the coughing has died down.

Eddie nods, “It doesn’t kick in immediately. Most drugs don’t.”

You take another hit and Eddie watches with sweet bambi eyes. His eyes are just as dark and endless as an abyss but whenever you look up and lock eyes with him, you can’t imagine why anybody would ever be afraid of him.

He’s loud. And he mocks cliques openly. But he isn’t afraid to make himself the fool for a laugh from his friends.

You think you adore him for that. The confidence with which his body moves even though everybody points and laughs. The strength he uses to resist the pressure of conforming. Certainly more of a hero than Jason Carver who taunts you for not doing his homework and harassing Chrissy when she tries breaking up with him.

Another coughing fit suddenly rattles you and Eddie rubs your back as you gulp down water. Eddie takes the joint and you wrap your arms around yourself, leaning into his side as he smokes.

You are wide-eyed and naive and you didn’t know that Special K was code for Ketamine until he told you in his van five minutes ago. You’re dense and you always let the flirtations roll off of you because it’s safer than assuming someone is actually interested in you. You come from an entirely different world than Eddie does and sometimes it’s so painfully obvious.

But Eddie can imagine himself taking you out on a date and that’s dangerous. For better or for worse, though, he’s never been the best at avoiding danger.

So he loops his arm around your shoulders and tilts his head back until it thunks against his wall. He doesn’t notice he’s doing it but he’s drawing the tips of his fingers over your arm in light circles. Then he observes, “You’re so tense.”

“Sorry,” you mutter, honestly anxious as you’re waiting to feel what you’d overheard about marujuana from your peers.

“Don’t apologize,” Eddie continues his soft caresses when you relax under his hand, “‘s just that if you’re all tense and worried, then you don’t have as nice an experience - so I’ve learned.”

“Right,” you nod slowly and hold out your hand, “Can I…?”

“You sure?” Eddie places the joint between your fingers, but still holds it just in case you change your mind.

But you nod resolutely, “I’m sure.”

It can’t hurt. Besides, Eddie’s here - and he promised to take care of you.

You don’t know when it starts happening, but eventually you realize that your chest burns a little bit - but not in a way that you hate. It feels like your bones expand as you breathe; ribs a little heavier and your eyes start to droop. But you don’t hate it.

Eddie looks at you and grins and you return the gesture. He can see the red coming through your eyes and the way you keep licking your lips.

“Someone’s high,” he murmurs in your ear and puts out the joint in his ashtray.

“‘m not high,” you protest, but the way you’re nearly boneless against his side says otherwise.

“Whatever you say, princess.”

“Maybe I’m a little high,” you throw your head back so it rests on Eddie’s shoulder.

“I know, sweetness,” the pet name makes you giggle and he definitely hears it, “What’s so funny, huh?”

“Uhh,” you stare up at his trailer ceiling and decide to play it off as best as you can, “thinking about my audition.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you then turn your head, cheek squished against the material of Eddie’s Hellfire shirt as you look up at him, “I did Juliet’s monologue for it and now I’m, like, super embarrassed looking back on it.”

“Why’s that?” he turns so he’s looking down at you. Those bambi eyes now fitted with dilated pupils as they carefully watch you bite your lip and giggle. For a moment, he thinks about pressing gentle kisses to the lip you drag between your teeth.

“I totally axed my words,” you mumble but you pause, mouth slightly open as you think - then you giggle again and you know it’s only the weed, but something inside you likes feeling this way, “Don’t even know how it happened, but sometimes I used modern English instead of Shakespearean English.”

Eddie places his free hand over his heart, eyes widening, “That’s tragic. How’d you recover?”

“Stop,” you bury your face into the material of his shirt - it smells of pot and cheap cologne and you know that when you have to leave, you’ll miss it - “I just asked to start over and Mr. Harvey let me ‘cuz he knew I was nervous.”

“Well, I’m sure you still blew those other girls out of the water,” Eddie nods curtly and his hair falls into his face.

You don’t think before reaching up and brushing the hair from his eyes. Eddie’s gaze falls to yours and you two pause. It feels like the rest of the world could corrode and neither of you would notice - too busy staring into one another’s eyes.

A little smile comes over you and Eddie smiles back. You two giggle and Eddie takes the hand you used to brush away his hair and holds it. He squeezes your hand three times.

“You know what a shotgun house is?” you squeeze his hand back.

“Cannot say that I do.”

“They’re really common in New Orleans - it’s a house that has a direct line of sight between every doorway. So, if you shot your gun through the front door, it’d go straight through to the back.”

“Sounds like a good time,” he mutters, “Why would they name it based on how easy it’d be to kill all the residents?”

“No clue but it sounds badass,” he chuckles at your state and you move so your chin now rests on his shoulder, “How’re your grades?”

Eddie’s attention couldn’t be ripped away from you if a fire caught right next to him. Your lips are barely inches away from his and it’s like he’s in the Garden of Eden, a snake coaxing him into reaching for the apple.

“They’re awesome,” they’re alright, “Actually looks like I’ll be on track to graduate this year.”

You squeeze the hand he’s holding and nod slowly, “That’s great, Eddie. I knew you could do it.”

“Well, I couldn’t have without you, princess.”

The nickname surely started out as a way to tease you, but now it feels more affectionate. Like he’s really trying to convey how dear you are. Tomorrow you’ll blame it on the weed, but right now you decide to bask in it.

“You’re really smart, Eddie,” when he looks at you skeptically, you push further, “‘m serious. You’re smart. I’ve heard from Dustin the kinds of campaigns you make and what a good storyteller you are. You need real brains to do the stuff you do and you make it look so easy. I think you should be more proud of yourself.”

“Yeah,” he nods but the way he spat the word drips with sarcasm, “I’m sure all our school’s beloved students would agree with you. Especially my best friend, golden boy Jason Carver.”

You pout and he has half a mind to kiss your forehead and get rid of the upsetting thoughts he just undoubtedly stirred within you.

But to his surprise, you just snicker and say, “They’re all the same like that. Saying something wildly insane and then only claiming they’re joking when it isn’t received well,” you huff, then grin, “Schrödinger’s douchebags.”

You’re giggling after the jab but when you look at Eddie, the laughter slowly dies when he only looks at you quizzically.

You press your lips and blink up at the ceiling, “Sorry, it’s dumb.”

You’ve never been good at talking to others. Even back in elementary school, you couldn’t form friendships with other students. You didn’t try to make them feel less than, but your words were too big and your jokes too clunky or specific. Kids would shove and pinch and point and grumble and you would always tell the teacher but nothing would get done.

You haven’t changed much and it makes you wonder if Eddie will grow to hate that about you, too.

“No,” Eddie insists, and your gaze returned to him, “I just have no idea who Schrödinger is or why he’s interested in douchebags.”

“Oh,” you bite your lip again and he admires how clearly you’re thinking despite being high, “Schrödinger was a physicist in Austria. He had this thought experiment that basically was like - a hypothetical cat in a hypothetical box may be dead or alive because you can’t see it, so you don’t know,” you wait for him to nod before continuing, “Therefore, the cat could be considered both alive and dead,” you gesture to the ceiling as if the basketball players would be up there, “Schrödinger’s douchebags.”

This time, Eddie nods and a small chuckle draws from his lips and you don’t think you’ve ever been more proud of making someone laugh before. You decide to keep this jewel and not blame his good humor on the weed.

You and Eddie sit like that. Quiet. Staring into one another’s eyes. Holding hands with his arm around you.

Then, suddenly, that beautiful smile came over his lips, “You relaxed?”

Like the cartoon character he’d accused you of being, you practically ‘teehee’ as you nod, “Yeah.”

…

It’s 11:10 by the time you actually end up at home - both you and Eddie wanting to sober up before he drives you home. Eddie’s tolerance was much higher than yours and he hadn’t had enough to genuinely inebriate himself, but even so.

You lean back into the rolled down passenger window before Eddie can take off, “Hey, what’re some albums you recommend?”

He shoots you a suspicious glance, “Why?”

“There’s a record shop right next to Family Video and I wanna know what I’ve been missing out on.”

“Alright,” he pats the dash, not looking at you as he thinks, “I think, for now, we’ll just do one. And I’ll do you a favor and tell you about the greatest album of all time - Led Zeppelin four: Roman numerals though, so look for IV. Technically a rock album,” he suddenly whips to look at you and points at the ceiling, “but I have yet to find anything that compares.”

“Then Led Zeppelin IV it is,” you step back and wave goodbye to Eddie as he drives away.

Quietly, you unlock your front door, knowing that your parents were sound asleep by now, but you also know one girl who’s never asleep at this time of night. No matter how often you lecture her on proper sleeping habits, she’s up late watching romcoms and doing homework in her ridiculously exorbitant bedroom (even a TV that your jaw drops at every time you see it).

You make an effort to be as quiet as possible while you dial Chrissy Cunningham’s number.

It picks up immediately and you can hear the girl’s nails as she taps them against the nearest surface, “Cunningham residence - Chrissy speaking.”

“Chrissy, hi,” you murmur, “Do you have a sec?”

You can hear the way her voice lifts with a smile as she replies, “For you? Of course, what’s up?”

“I may or may not have just had the best night of my life so far.”

TUESDAY. 12:15 PM.

Chrissy is still grinning at you at lunch, “I can’t believe you got high with Eddie and didn’t invite me.”

“It was a more…” you can’t reason why exactly it wouldn’t have felt right for Chrissy there, you just know that it wouldn’t have, “private affair.”

She gasps and her hand lands on your shoulder, “Oh my God - my sweet girl? Is she,” she dramatically shakes her head, “no way, is she getting a crush?”

“What?” you laugh but something inside you clicks at her suggestion, “No way. We’re just getting friendly. It makes sense ‘cuz I tutor him, we should be friends. You know? It’s totally normal.”

“Mmmm,” she nods but you know it’s only for show, “that’s why he’s totally staring at you right now.”

“You’re joking,” you refrain from whirling around to check, but Chrissy just shrugs.

“You’ll have to see for yourself.”

“You act all nice, but you’re really a witch sometimes, you know that?”

“It’s what I do best,” she jokingly flips her ponytail from one shoulder to the other.

You turn and see that, yes, Eddie was looking at you. You wave and he returns it, though he then quickly turns to one of the boys at his table and you can hear Chrissy giggling.

“I’ll actually be right back,” you stand from the table and you can just faintly feel the hands of Chrissy shoving you closer to the infamous Hellfire table.

Eddie, for once, isn’t trapped in the throes of an impassioned speech on the bullshit of forced conformity for his table’s enjoyment and you take full advantage of that.

It feels like you’re invisible to the cafeteria until you get just a little too close to the table of D&D kids. Then, the stares are hot and they scorch through your clothes as you dig around your pocket for two front stage tickets to Hawkins High’s production of Romeo & Juliet. Then, the people start whispering.

But good God, the way Eddie’s eyes light up as you approach him makes the looks and whispers and points more than worth it. In fact, they fade away once when he throws out both arms at his sides and cheers, “Princess!”

“Special delivery,” you jest, holding out the tickets to Eddie, “I hope you like the show.”

“With you as our beloved star?” he takes the tickets and your fingers brush for just a moment, but it feels like everything else slips away in that mere second, “How could I not?”

“You’re in the play?” Mike does what Mike is best at and sneers at you.

“Yes, I am,” you actually feel proud to admit it when Eddie’s said so much about being eager to see you, “and I’m Juliet.”

“Oh,” the boy nods, “have fun killing yourself on stage.”

“I’ll certainly try, Michael,” you fiddle with your fingers and turn back to Eddie, “but, yeah. There’s two,” you feel stupid for mentioning it since he can definitely count that high, “so you can bring someone.”

Eddie immediately turns to Dustin and raises one of the tickets, “You in, Henderson?”

Dustin, ever the ray of sunshine (when he chooses to be), nods and takes it, then turning to smile up at you, “I’ll see you there.”

“Fantastic!” you give the boys thumbs up and awkwardly grin, “Can’t wait - hope you like it!”

Before you can leave, Eddie gestures for you to lean down and when you do, he whispers and you try to ignore the way it makes you shiver, “I was so kindly invited to a party tomorrow for the favors and treats I come with, but if you’d like to go - I could definitely use a plus one.”

You pull back, now genuinely beaming at Eddie and you nod eagerly, “I’d love to - yeah.”

“Sounds good,” he ignores the peculiar stares the Hellfire boys shoot him and says, “I’ll pick you up around six, yeah?”

“Yeah. That works,” you like the way Eddie smiles and how he’s playing with his hair while he talks, “Definitely works.”

You return to Chrissy’s side and Eddie skims the ticket before putting it in his metal lunchbox - since he truly does pay more attention to that than his own bag. He waves off the stares and jeers and hey, how’d you do that? that he gets from the Hellfire Club.

Meanwhile you’re practically tripping over yourself to update Chrissy on what the hell just happened between you and Eddie Munson - not caring how many of the cheerleaders stare or gag. You truly can’t be bothered when the only person to really make you feel alive is gladly paying forward the attention you wanted.

In retrospect, you should’ve noticed the way that Ms. O’Donnell and Mr. Harvey were whispering to one another while monitoring the cafeteria. Furthermore, you definitely should’ve picked up on how odd it was that Mr. Harvey gave you two front row tickets (and reserved seats with them) for free when you mentioned that Eddie Munson was the one you wanted them for.

Backpfeifengesicht (something that’ll come to you when you finally do make those realizations) a German word meaning - of a person - ‘in need of a slap’.

Taglist @homiesexual-or-homosexual @chainsaw-man-inserts 4 u <3

#within six days #wsd fic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #stranger things x you #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

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luna-writes-stuff · 3 years

Text

Vanity Fair’s first look on Amazon’s Rings of Power opinions.

90% of this is me ranting, so if you don’t want the negative feedback, don’t read it.

where do we begin?

Lets start with the fact that I was genuinely excited about this series. We have known about it for some time now, and while many rumors and rants have already been formed before we even got a first look, I began defending it, because this is Tolkien. And neither of us can deny that the Hobbit and Lord of the Rings films were canonically accurate as well (meaning there were many divergences). But what got published yesterday really threw me off.

@tolkiens-middleearth made a whole post wherein pieces of the Vanity Fair interview were shown as well, and while this will probably repeat their words, I will write it myself for once because I can quite literally make an entire essay about how the revelations are so disappointing.

——

1. I’m going to begin with what you probably anticipated most; Elrond.

I have seen so many memes over his character revelation this far, but I cannot stress about his looks enough. I have nothing against this actor; I know few of his works and he is generally doing a good job, but he doesn’t have the Elrond face. He has a stern, sharp-formed face. It’s very recognizable. This actor however, has - what I like to call - the Martin Freeman face. It is very kind and almost hedgehog like. He would have been great as a hobbit, but not as an elf.

And besides his face, we have the question of his short blonde hair and how he got described as “A politically ambitious elf”. Elrond did not go through all that shit in the second age to be known as “a politically ambitious elf”. Put some respect on his name. This is Elrond slander. Just say you don’t like him and move on.

——

2. THE DWARROWDAM

When I went through the pictures, I just thought she was a grubby human. It wasn’t until someone pointed out that she was dwarf that I noticed. WHERE IS HER BEARD????? WE ARE FINALLY GETTING SOME DWARROWDAM ACTION AND THEN YOU REFUSE TO INCLUDE BEARDS???? DID YOU FORGET ALL THE CONCEPT ART FOR THE HOBBIT???

THORIN OAKENSHIELD DID NOT DIE FOR THIS DISRESPECT

This is for those people in the fandom, and not necessarily the series: Then there is thE ISSUE OF RACE SOMEHOW???? I forgot that the Tolkien fandom also unfortunately exists out of conservative grandparents, who lose their teeth over the slightest bit of tan. I saw it happening when they showed the first posters with the hands, and it confused me??? I was very excited to finally see some people of color between the posters, because it’s about time????? You have the nerve to be mad over a stupid color? Get a life.

——

3. The hobbits

Ahahahhaha I can cry over this. Vanity Fair:

“One of the very specific things the texts say is that hobbits never did anything historic or noteworthy before the Third Age,” says McKay. “But really, does it feel like Middle-earth if you don’t have hobbits or something like hobbits in it?”

In words that Vanity Fair does not want to say: “Fuck Tolkien’s canon. We like hobbits, so we added hobbits for some stupid reason.” -McKay.

Now, I will agree that hobbits are enjoyable, but you are rewriting Tolkien’s legacy here. If they make a cameo, that’s fine. They lived near the Misty Mountains so it is probable they were moving around occasionally in the series. But if the hobbits somehow get included in the whole rings debacle where they didn’t in the writings, I’m rioting. Stop touching the hobbits. Go play with your elves and Númenoreans.

——

4. Actor for Celebrimbor

Though not officially stated, we can almost say for certain that Charles Edwards will play Celebrimbor; the Elven Smith who forged the rings of power.

Having seen how they massacred Elrond, I can only fear for our boy Celebrimbor. Once again, nothing against the actor, but he’d seem more likely to play a human. At most a dwarf, if you give him a good beard.

——

5. More short-haired elves

Apparently this is supposed to be an added character, like Tauriel in the Hobbit films, and I will not stand for Tauriel slaughter, so I will not throw off the fact that Tolkien has not written him. It is the issue of - or lack of - hair. Elves are our beautiful androgynous royalties with long, flowy mermaid hair. Where is our long, flowy mermaid hair? We deserve it.

Now, maybe, there is a whole story line behind it and I’m just speaking before I see stuff, but with all the information we have thus far, it pains me to see elves with short hair. Hurts almost as much as the dwarf without a beard.

——

6. The dwarf

I saw this at 2 am, it was dead quiet, everyone was asleep, and I deadass went; “Yes. Dwarves.” and hit the table in excitement. There is no bad news about this, because he looks magnificent. I just needed to share this.

——

6. Whatever this is

This is just some random guy from a Netflix coming of age movie, but with a stubble. I saw this post and I truly thought they accidentally added a wrong picture, but apparently it is meant to be from the world of Tolkien. Where is the spice??? Where is the awesome outfit? You chose this as a picture to show the media to get them hyped? Did they forget 50% of the Tolkien fandom exists out of isolated high-fantasy nerds who couldn’t give two fucks about anyone who doesn’t look like the greasy man supreme (that being Aragorn)??

——

All that being said; I am very curious about the trailer and how they are going to turn this around. Of course, I will watch the series when it comes out, but I am not that excited to see it anymore. If it wasn’t a Tolkien project, I might not even consider watching it at all. But I will do it for mommy Galadriel. And sexy Sauron. And that one dwarf from the posters who looks so friendly. I’ll do it them❤️

#will I get hate for this?#absolutely #do I care?#not anymore #look how they massacred my boy #Elrond deserves better #90% of Tolkien’s works is just characters bullying Elrond #who was I to think it would stop #Hugo weaving Return as Elrond challenge #tolkien #LOTR #the lord of the rings #rings of power #Amazon

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harrystyleseditsx · 3 years

Text

If you need me

SUMMARY: A one shot of where y/n experiences something that reminds her of her traumatic past and Harry’s 5000 miles away

based on the song If you need by julia micheals

WARNING: Angst with fluff :)

pairing: Harry Styles x uni y/n

wordcount: 2.3k

A/N: Welcome to my first fic, I needed to write something to get in the flow to write my 2000 word story so here it is :)) ily guys <3 (also would you prefer y/n or an oc, please let me know!!)

Y/N was very happy about how her morning had been going.

She had woken up early, worked out and made her favorite breakfast. She had also gotten herself some flowers to celebrate the fact that she had submitted her 10 page essay early. The only thing that would make her morning better would be face timing harry but she knew it was 1 pm here meaning it would be 9 pm in London where Harry was and he had a concert to perform. She threw on one of Harry’s treat people with kindness hoodies over her sundress as she headed to the library that would often get chilly or she was just always cold as harry often teased her. She smiled as she remembered harry telling she would overheat if she continued to wear zip ups and pile blankets on herself even during summers.

She had by now almost reached the library when she suddenly bumped into someone causing the other person to drop some of their stuff. “Shit, I’m so sorry. I should have paid more attention-” it felt as if the words were stuck in her throat as she glanced at who she bumped into.

“Oh hi Y/N” Asher taunted, her ex. She hadn’t seen him since the break up when he told her that he needed space and took off to France only to send her the infamous break up text. And, here he was 6 months later, looking the every bit same. She felt a feeling of anxiety creeping up on her as she started playing with her fingers trying to stop when she saw Asher’s eyes drop to her hands.

“Are you nervous y/n? Always played with your fingers when you were” he said with a hint of smugness, as he reached his hand forward trying to grasp hers. She immediately pulled back, crossing them against her chest as she took a deep breath.

“What are you doing here Asher? Aren’t you supposed to be in France?” she snapped at him, her nervousness quickly turning into anger. Asher raised an eyebrow as if surprised at her response.

“Been keeping tabs on me?” he smirked. “Well forgive me if I wanted to know where my boyfriend, sorry, ex-boyfriend ran off too on our 1 year anniversary” she scoffed.

“Finally grew a backbone y/n?” he drawled looking her up and down. Y/N had never felt the urge to pull someone’s eyeballs out more than she did now. She found herself thinking what she ever saw in this piece of shit. She snapped back to reality as she heard him droning about something.

“..you need me, so I’ll take you back-” he was in interrupted as y/n threw her head back laughing. When she looked at him again, he had an annoyed look on his face. “I need you? Well, I’d like to inform you that you’re wrong again. I don’t need you, I don’t need anyone. I managed myself when you left and I’m doing so now too. So, you can see yourself out of my life again” she reiterated. Asher now looked furious, he lunged forward and grabbed her by her wrists as she tried to free herself from his grip.

“Is all this attitude because of her famous singer boyfriend? Yes, I know all about him. Is he telling you that you’re beautiful? or that you’re important? because news flash, you’re not y/n. You’re worthless, stupid, ugly and you’ll be nothing without me. You’re a whore” he growled. Y/N felt herself flinch as she heard his words before she composed herself and kicked him in the balls. His grip on her wrists loosened giving her the perfect opportunity to attack. She grabbed him by the back of his neck and jerked it forward, raising her knee and smashed his face against it and then shoved him backwards. She heard Asher yelp in pain as blood gushed out of his. One of his hands was on his dick while other on his nose. She felt a sense of pride and satisfaction rush through her as she looked at him.

"You bitch, you broke my nose. You'll pay for this" Asher yelled at her. She decided it was best to kick him one more time for good measure and she did, smiling as he groaned in pain. "No, you listen to me. If you ever come near me again or try to hurt me I will fuck up your life and I'll get my famous singer boyfriend to help too" y/n taunted as she turned out to head back to her apartment, she had never been more glad to have her apartment be a 5 minute walk from campus. The whole incident had taken a huge toll on her.

She locked her room as soon as she entered it, leaning against the door as she slowly sank to the floor. She took a deep breath before the sobs broke out. Her entire body was shaking as she wrapped her arms around herself trying to feel as if she wasn't alone in the world. Y/N picked up her phone to send a text to harry but she try made her feel even more shitty. What if he realized she wasn't worth it, what if he had enough of her breakdowns. She pressed her nails into her palm, hitting herself to try to stop herself from feeling too much. She had come so far and now all it took was one interaction for everything to come crumbling down.

She didn't know how long she had been sitting like that but her phone rang, she looked at the clock to see it flashing 5 pm. Realizing that it must be harry on the phone, she got up and rushed to the bathroom, quickly washing her face, she laid down on the bed so he could only see half of her face and then accepted his call.

Harry appeared on the screen all smiley and sweaty. Her heart fluttered at the sight of him. All she wanted to do was hug him. "Finally picked up, huh? I thought y'were gonna leave me hangin' lovie" he teased her. "I'm sorry, my phone was on silent" she said softly.

Harry realised the change in her demeanor, his smile turning into a frown. "Y'alright honey? Not even showin' me y'pretty face" he said to her. She tried to smile as she moved the camera a bit so he could see more of her face. "I'm just tired H" she whispered. Harry had been moving around, probably trying to find a quieter area. He shut the door behind him as he entered what looked like his dressing room.

"Have y'been cryin' y/n?" he questioned as he saw her red nose and faint traces of year marks on her cheeks. y/n knew there was no point in lying because it was pretty obvious. "Yeah, I didn't do very well in one of the assignments my economics professor had assigned but I'm fine now" she told him adding a smile in the end to make it more believable and maybe Harry would have believed her had he not caught a glimpse of the nasty bruise on wrist as the sleeve of her (his) hoodie slipped down when she was pulled the hood up. Harry was furious and the visible anger on his face made y/n want to curl up.

"What the fuck is that y/n?" he questioned furiously. "What are you talking about? "y/n replied looking genuinely confused. "The fucking bruise on your wrist” harry snapped, by now he had lost all his patience. No one gets to hurt his lovie.

Y/N was at a loss, she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want him to worry about her but she couldn’t come up with anything to say. “Asher came back, he cornered me and when I tried to go, he grabbed my wrists” she mumbled, playing with the hem of his sweatshirt. She dare not glance his way, afraid of his reaction. After a minute of silence, Y/N glanced at her phone only to find the screen to be blank. Had he hung up on her? She stared at the blank screen of her phone in disbelief. She felt as if she was having an out of body experience. Opening her gallery, she started scrolling through the numerous photos and videos of her and harry. It was at this time that she was grateful with her obsession of taking pictures and photos. A few tears escaped her eyes as she realized how much she missed him and how he probably didn’t want to talk to her ever. Was he going to break up with her? Y/N’s heart clenched at that thought, she put on harry’s playlist on her spotify and laid there.

She must have fallen asleep because she woke up to the sound of pots clanging. Her heart sped up, no one besides her and harry had the key to her apartment and harry wouldn’t-

She threw the blanket covering her aside (which had not been there before) and rushed to the kitchen. And sure enough there he was, her boyfriend, with his back facing her. Y/N felt tears well up in her eyes, he came here for her. Harry turned around to see her standing in the entryway of the kitchen, crying. He reached her in three quick strides, pulling her in a hug. She tightly wrapped her arms around him, fearing he might disappear. Harry pulled back after a few minutes, cupping her face in his hands he gently brushed his thumb over her cheek.

“Gonna properly tell m’what happened now bubs?” he urged. Unable to say anything at that moment Y/N just nodded. Grabbing her hand, Harry led her to the sofa, grabbing her by the waist and seating her on his lap. He patiently waited her to start talking. For a while Y/n just played with his hair, then she took a deep breath and told him everything that happened. She could feel Harry’s grip tightening on her hips, not to the extent that it was painful, when she told him what Asher had said to her.

“M’gonna fuckin’ kill him” Harry cursed when she had finished. “I already did some damage” Y/N told him, smirking as she remembered Asher’s face. Harry looked at her questioningly, “I might have kicked him in the balls and broken his nose and added another kick for good measure” she admitted. Harry grinned, “that’s m’girl” he said proudly, pulling her in for a kiss. They sat like that for a while with Harry telling her about tour and she filled him in with other things that she had forgotten when they had their facetime sessions.

Y/N told him that she wanted to report Asher, in case he ever tried to pull shit like this again. Harry not only told her but also showed her how proud he was of her, how brave she’d been and how much he loved her in multiple ways.

The next day they headed to the dean’s office, where Y/N saw two officers sitting outside. Luckily there were several camera’s in the hallway where Asher had cornered Y/N, so by noon, with all the available proof, she’d gotten a restraining order against Asher. If her were to come within a distance of 6ft with her, he’d serve jail time. As they left the dean’s office, Y/N saw Asher standing , she could feel harry tensing up, so when Asher looked Y/N up and down and smirked, Harry lunged forward punching him in his already swollen nose. Asher yelped in pain, he tried to fight Harry back but by now the officers had restrained him, taking him away.

Back at the apartment, Y/N tended to Harry’s bruised knuckles as she felt a hollowness knowing he’d be leaving soon. By the look on her face, Harry knew what she was thinking about, he took the cotton swab from her hands, placing it on the table before he kissed her.

“I’ll be back soon, it’s only a matter of two months now and by then you’ll graduate and I’ll be done with tour and we can have everyday to ourselves” harry told her, wiggling his eyebrows. She lightly smacked his chest, pressing a small kiss to his lips. “I know, It’s just that sometimes I miss you” she commented. “Only sometimes?” Harry pretended to be offended, “Well a bit more than sometimes” she retorted. “Just a bit more? I miss you so much, it hurts” he admitted. Her shoulders slumped a bit as she pulled him in a hug. “I love you Harry” she whispered and heard him softly whisper I love you too sweetheart.

That evening Y/n drove him to the airport, they knew they couldn’t outside for long so Harry pulled her in a kiss before he pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. “Promise me you’ll tell me anything that happens, I don’t care if it’s just a paper cut or not. Just don’t hide things from me, If when you need me I'll be there" he blurted. “I promise” she said firmly, showing him she was serious. She didn’t want him to worry but he’d eventually know something was up and it was better to sort things out. He kissed her again before he went in the airport. She stood there until he was no longer in her sight before she sat in her car and started driving off.

Her phone chimed, picking it up she saw that Harry had sent her a image. It was a very poorly drawn graphic of a guy lying on the floor with a crooked nose and blood around him that she assumed was Asher and a girl stood over him wearing a superhero cape. He had written, ‘my hero’. She smiled fondly before sending him a picture of her reaction as she increased the volume of her radio and driving off. Soon.

This is my first time writing a harry fic/blurb. Feedback would be greatly appreciated. Also, I’ve turned on the asks (I didn’t know they were off) so you can send in your requests!! Thank you :))

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gummygowon · 4 years

Text

cute relationship things with ateez!

genre: fluff (a lot)

warnings: none :)

established relationship!

a/n: i meant to post this like two weeks ago but i never finished it so consider this an early valentine’s day gift <3 ;)

seonghwa:

for some reason, i feel like seonghwa likes to read books

with that being said, on lazy days where you guys didn’t want to get up and do anything

you guys would read books !!!

before you guys would read some were recommendations from each other on your own

and then maybe rant to each other over little details about the book like how the main character went back to their toxic ex or how the ending of a book was so bad

“seonghwa, how did you even read this?!? the stupid ass main character keeps going back to that one jerk! like does she not realize she deserves more than his ugly ass???!!!?”

“y/n, just keep reading.”

“but hwa-”

turns out the main character got with the other woman yayyyyy!!! fuck shitty men

i don’t know how it happened but you guys started your own little book club with each other

so you guys could finally talk rant together at the same time about the book

so since you guys started to read the same book and if you guys found down time together you would read together

like, imagine it’s a peaceful friday night

seonghwa is back from work and so are you

you guys already showered and ate dinner

you’re just reading and then seonghwa just scoops you up and then puts you in between his legs with your back against his chest

and you’re like “wtf bro?”

and he’s just like, “what? i wanna read too???”

“didn’t you like read ahead tho??”

“yeah, but i wanna read it again.”

that was a fatass lie

he just wanted to be close to you

hongjoong:

ok so, we all know that this man is hella busy all the time

mans is the leader, song writer, producer, dancer, rapper (which is why he is good at all positions)

but you were patient with him and whenever he goes days without seeing you due to his busy ass schedule he would make it up to you yk what i mean

but on the more chill days when you saw hongjoong or even the days where he was cooped in his studio (you would visit him there because sometimes you just had to see him)

you guys would just lay on the couch, just enjoying each other’s presence and not feel like you have to make up for lost time

you would be on the bottom on your phone or reading a magazine/book

then hongjoong would be at the top with his head on your stomach as he would be writing down lyrics that came to mind

killing two birds with one stone you feel me

sometimes you would show him a funny meme that you found or quote something that you just read to him

“hongjoong, look at the way he fell!” you would be dying of laughter

and then he wouldn’t notice because he was really roped into making lyrics

but you also didn’t see him focusing so much because you were of course laughing at the kid that accidentally got bitchslapped off the couch because of their sibling

“joongie look!!!”

“what is it?”

you would then show him what happened and then he would look at with that “you really interrupted me for this??” type of look

“i just lost my train of thought for this song because you wanted to show me this kid falling off of a couch???”

“yes?”

he would just bring a hand to his face and think what tf? why tf? and then slowly start laughing because of what just happened

“see, wasn’t it funny?”

“a child getting hurt isn’t funny, y/n” he would laugh while scolding you

yunho:

yunho powers im sorry for this one

alright so, it’s night time

you guys are about to go to bed after a long day or work/school whatever

your eyes are fluttering closed because the day got you beat beat

but then yunho just kisses your face

and then you open your eyes slowly again to see yunho look like he just got caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to do

like imagine a kid that just got caught drawing on the walls

that’s what his face would look like

he’s just laying there like “i thought you were asleep...”

“i was just about to...”

yunho feels lowkey guilty now because you’re awake now and he knows you had a long day

he just couldn’t resist kissing you

you just looked so pretty and peaceful sleeping

mans was reminded by the universe themself about how lucky he was being able to date you

like, godamn what did he do in his past life to deserve you?

ok, back to this reaction idea thing-

yunho would apologize for waking you up with his cheeks a nice rosy color

you just look at him with tired eyes

“i’ll forgive you, if you give me more kisses.”

and yunho’s smile just lights up the whole damn room and he’s like oh? say less

so he goes to kissing your face

like all over

your nose

your cheeks

forehead

basically anywhere ok?

and you end up laughing because it tickles

but you just want him to kiss your lips which he does

... eventually lmao

but when he does your still laughing which causes him to laugh

he tells you “i love you, did you know that?”

and you get all flustered and shit but you still keep that playful energy around

“i love you too, but you aren’t forgiven just yet”

which leads to more kisses :))))

yeosang:

ok so you’re now the busy one

yeosang has so much respect for you because holy shit how do you balance that busy ass schedule of yours

your homework loads were no jokes

then to add to that you have a job which was even more stressful

it was amazing how you can manage all that and still keep a smile on your face

you also had major respect for yeosang as an idol

the industry was not a place to fuck around

you couldn’t be happier that your boyfriend was lucky enough to have a group who actually cared and supported each other

speaking of ateez, yeosang isn’t the most touchy person in the world

you didn’t mind of course, you’re the same way

however, when he did give you cuddles and kisses you would be a blushing mess

a sort of rare sight that yeosang loved to see

anyways, one night you were busy writing those argumentative essays that you were sure that your fingers would fall off by the time you were finished

you were working on it ever since you got home from school (with the occasional food and bathroom breaks )to the time when yeosang came back from practice

you moved to your shared bed by the time the sweaty boy came home and he was surprised that you were working on one subject for so long

the stupid piece was almost finished by the time yeosang was out of the shower

however, you didn’t even notice

you were too immersed in your writing to notice

yeosang took this as an opportunity to sit behind you and wrap his arms around your waist and watch over your shoulder as you worked

and of course, he would kiss your cheek occasionally

this was super sweet gesture but yeosang but you didn’t the notice that he wrapped his arms around you

“ai yah! what the hell?” you yelled and turned around to see your boyfriend clutching his chest

“oh it’s just you.”

yeosang would give you a deadpanned look and be like, “yeah, who else tf???”

you would apologize and kissing his cheek before returning to back to work

which yeosang would return to hugging your waist and keep his head on your shoulder

and give you occasional kisses on your cheek or neck

after that night, it became a weekly occurrence

which you loved of course, who wouldn’t love their bf cuddling them while they chased their bag

san:

i am very excited for this one

ok so, san loves playing with your hair

it’s just so much fun

running his fingers through it or just attempting to braid it or put it into a tiny ponytail

he loved it

he would probably always play with your while you were watching tv together, sitting together in the car, or even before you guys fall asleep

then one day after san came home early from work

you guys were chilling on the bed watching the latest k-drama that came out since san made you wait so you guys could watch it together

san was in between your legs with his back leaning against your chest

and that’s when you decided to run your fingers through his soft, fluffy hair

that’s also when san asked you to braid his hair

“sure, what type of braid though?”

“there’s different kinds????”

“yes, san. now pick one.” you gave him your phone that was pulled up to different types braids.

“i want the french ones. they sound fancy.”

you roll your eyes and start sectioning his hair into two sections and start braiding his hair and lightly pull on the pink strands because you know san likes his hair pulled

so you doing his hair right

and you begin rambling about your day/week

talking about whatever interesting happened to you because you know that san likes hearing you talk no matter what it’s about

however, you were knee deep into talking about the latest drama at work that you didn’t even realize that san stopped talking

“san?”

he didn’t answer and his head would be dipping down so low you were surprised you didn’t fall over

“baby?”

san still wouldn’t respond to you

but this time he just flipped over so his head would be on your stomach as he wrapped your arms around your stomach

“mmmmmmm?”

“nevermind love, just sleep.”

he would respond by burying his head further into your stomach and tightened his hold around you

you kissed his head and ran your fingers through his hair which lulled san to sleep even more

“goodnight sannie.”

mingi:

you have been best friends with song mingi ever since you moved into the tiny neighborhood that you call home

it all started when your parents brought you over to your next door neighbor’s house for breakfast on a cold saturday morning

you were extremely shy when you were little so the only thing you could remember about your first experience with mingi was hiding behind your mother’s leg for the first hour of being there and watching the young boy play with his toy cars and planes before he finally offered a pirate ship to you

ever since that unforgettable saturday, you pretty much spent the rest of your childhood with mingi

you guys were practically joined at the hip

even when you were getting endlessly teased by your classmates for the first month of school for having an accent whenever you spoke

which resulted in you running to the bathroom crying

not even a minute later, you heard someone burst through the girls’ bathrrom

“y/n?”

you peaked your head out of the stall to see your tall neighbor looking out of breath

“mingi, you aren’t supposed to be here!” you said in between sobs

“it’s okay, i don’t care.” he said as he awkwardly wrapped his arms around you. “are you okay?”

you shook your head no looking at him with tears running down your face

the poor boy was internally freaking out since he has no clue on how to comfort people (especially if they’re a girl)

he was like eight at the time give him a little break

so of course, his first reaction was to make you laugh somehow

and he did this by randomly recreating the “boots and cats, boots and cats” rhythm after seeing siri do it in a youtube video and started to bop his head

surprised by his sudden movements, you laughed out of pure confusion

as soon as mingi saw the corner of your lips flip upwards he began rapping faster to the point where he was gasping for breath leading him into a coughing fit

“mingi you can breathe, y’know!” you giggled in between words

after the young boy had caught his breath from hacking away at his lungs, he smiled at you

until- the teacher had came into the bathroom, scolding mingi for going into the girls’ restroom

even though mingi didn’t care at all that he got in trouble, the only thing he cared about was that you were feeling better

ever since then whenever you were sad or having a bad day mingi would whip out his phone and ask siri to rap while he free-styled over the monotone voice

he literally still does it

even two years into your relationship-

“siri, can you rap for me?” mingi would ask his phone as he pointed his free arm at you

“boots and cats-”

“mingi, please no.” you laughed in between tears, your mood rising with every beat

wooyoung:

i wholeheartedly believe that wooyoung would kiss you face if you were sad

but the first time this happened, you guys were still fairly new into your relationship

which meant that you weren’t completely ready to be extremely vulnerable around wooyoung

because in your mind, letting someone see you at your lowest lows of means that you really trust and love someone to let them see you like that

you always wanted to be known as the strong person in the friend group

you were that glue that held everyone together

always listening to others and taking care of others before yourself

which is why wooyoung fell in love with you in the first place

he had never been in a relationship where someone was so caring and thoughtful of others that he was scared that he wouldn’t be enough for you and that you deserved better

of course, he didn’t tell you that right away but he confessed to you about that wayyy later in your relationship which is another story to be told

but one day, life was coming at you so fucking fast

assignments were piling up left and right and deadlines were literally every other day

and then there seemed to be an increase in the amount of angry karens at your work

and your patience was thinning everyday with those people

then to top it all off, all the tests you’ve been studying for, you got mediocre grades, some even worse in other subjects

it just felt like no matter how much work you put into whatever you do, you got half ass results

it was just pushing your mental health further into the ground

you could handle a C every once in awhile but multiple? on back to back tests? no fucking way you just couldn’t

those stupid, dark thoughts would cloud your mind in an instant and on days like this, you would just let them consume you

you were too tired to pick yourself up again and fight back which led to you crying in wooyoung’s arms

usually, you would feel so embarrassed crying over things like this when you know other people have it worse but you couldn’t hold in it anymore

you ranted about yourself in between your hiccups from crying which would hurt wooyoung’s heart a little bit

because he thought of you as such a strong and kind person- the complete opposite of what you were saying about yourself

so when you were done talking, wooyoung made you look at him and assured you that you were not any of those nasty things that you said about yourself

each insult turned into a thoughtful compliment accompanied by a kiss

“y/n, you are so intelligent-”

kiss

“caring-”

kiss

“beautiful-”

kiss

“more than everything i ever wanted”

kiss

by the time wooyoung was done, you were a giggling mess

“and this is why i love you.”

he finally kissed you on your lips, smiling into it like the dork he is

it was the first ever time he told you that he loved you

jongho:

i am also a firm believer that jongho would sing his s/o to sleep

like with that heavenly voice of his, he better put them to sleep

so on the first night you ever slept with jongho, you were too nervous to go to bed even though your body was screaming at you to close your eyes

you kept tossing and turning every few minutes or your eyes would shoot open with your heart racing

at this point, you gave up on trying to sleep and got up (carefully to not wake up your sleeping boyfriend) to get a drink

while you were in the kitchen, clutching your chest in an effort to get yourself to calm down, jongho had stirred awake to an empty bed

a flash of panic surged through his body as he momentarily forgot where he was since he wasn’t at his dorm his room never looked this clean

yawning, the vocalist would wander into the light with his eyes squinted, “y/n?”

“oh my god!” you jumped, water almost spilling out your glass

jongho covered his ears, “what are you doing up?”

“oh,” you felt your cheeks turn red since you felt bad for waking your boyfriend up. “i can’t sleep.”

“why?” he asked, walking towards the couch.

“i don’t know.” you answered as you followed close behind.

you curled up next to jongho, clutching his shirt “i’m sorry for waking you up.”

jongho smiled tiredly at you before kissing your head, “don’t be. it’s okay. i don’t have work tomorrow anyways.”

you smiled in response before the two of you guys fell into a silence

“do you want me to sing you to sleep?”

“yes, please.” you murmured into his side as jongho placed his other arm around you, successfully trapping you in between his arms

he began singing softly into your ear as he stroked your hair

his warm voice coaxing your eyes to close

at last, your mind was at peace with itself

your heart beat slowing down

and by the time the song was finished you were fast asleep in arms

jongho kissed your forehead once more

“i love you.”

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taylorswiftstylequestions · 2 years

Note

Re: the discussion of when/why/how Taylor writes, and how she makes albums, reading and hearing interviews with her over the years, the understanding that I have is that, sometimes she sets out to make and album, and other times she starts writing, not knowing where it will go. (part 1)

(part 2). Like, going by what both she and Aaron said about how folklore came to be, when she first called up Aaron to ask him if he'd be interested in working with her, I don't think she was thinking that they were going to make an album - she just wanted to give it a try, and see where it lead. I mean, the possibility of an album coming out of it may have been in the back of her mind, but I get the impression that she really wasn't thinking about that. (part 3) I think same thing with writing songs with Joe - she just wanted to give it a try, and see where it went. No expectations. And as to who she writes about, there's the quote that Sarah often alludes to, that unfortunately I don't have in front of me right now, but it was something like 'you can know someone for years and get nothing from them (in terms of inspiration for songs), and then have some who comes into you life for 20 minutes that does inspire you'. (part 4) I also do wonder if there are songs Taylor's written that are just so personal to her, that they'll never see the light of day. Not songs per se, but she did mention in the RS interview in 2019 that she wrote a number of think-pieces during the whole "Summer of the apocalypse" that will probably never be published. That's very different from an aborted album, though.

---

Yes, there are definitely some things that happen organically and not out of a concerted, planned effort to create an album. But the common thread with what you've outlined is that they were all born out of an abundance of creativity and a desire to explore that and create work out of it. Emphasis on wanting to be open to that creativity and diving into it.

There is an inherently huge difference between, "I am feeling inspired and I want to lean into this feeling and see where it takes me and maybe that's an album but who knows! This is fun!" and, "I am feeling burnt out from almost a decade straight of shuttling between a recording studio to a TV appearance to an arena/stadium and I am tired and I also have no idea what I am doing next or when that is but I do know that I need a break". Which is why the concept of Karma does not align with everything we know about what Taylor's priorities were from that time period - even before shit hitting the fan.

re: How personal is too personal - There's almost certainly way more ragey and unfiltered/uncensored essays/poems/songs from that time period that were probably her just scorched earthing her life when everything was raw and fresh. But how complete they were, undetermined. And also that's part of the healing process in documenting your feelings (stream of conscious) to get to a more coherent piece of content (editing, fine-tuning, allowing emotions to be more processed, etc).

#opinion

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ptergwen · 4 years

Text

call me cupid

w/c: 3.5k

warnings: very mild angst and a few swears

summary: despite your hatred for valentine’s day, peter attempts to make you a card

a/n: happy valentine’s day my loves!! i hope y’all get to spend some time with your people today and eat lots of chocolate <3 love you & enjoy mwah

it’s no secret that peter is terrible with words. he gets so flustered he can’t talk or forgets what he wants to say altogether. school presentations are torture. ordering food out is impossible. he’s accepted it at this point, that speaking just isn’t for him.

the one place it doesn’t come across is on paper. peter is ridiculously smart, and he knows all the right words to string together, which is why writing you a valentine should be no trouble at all. should be no trouble at all.

to tell the truth, he’s been sitting at his kitchen table with a blank sheet of paper in front of him for what feels like hours. nothing is coming to him. he’s not sure why this is so hard. you’re his girlfriend, he loves you, he’s said it so many times in every way he could think to. what’s different about it now?

everyone puts way too much pressure on giving the perfect gift when they should really just be enjoying each other’s company on a holiday about love. or, in your words, a meaningless holiday that was created by capitalists as another excuse to take people’s money.

alright, you aren’t too fond of valentine’s day.

it makes anyone who’s single feel like shit and anyone who’s in a relationship lose their shit.

only mj agreed when you shared your criticisms. ned and betty gave you looks like you were insane, and flash muttered something about you being undateable. peter had laughed and swung an arm around your shoulders, but he didn’t fully agree.

although valentine’s day has its flaws, peter likes to see it as twenty four hours of extra appreciation for the people in his life. you can buy chocolate for your friends and family. it doesn’t have to be a significant other, really. him and ned would do it before he had you and ned had betty.

peter wants to remind you how loved you are even if you’re not into the festivities like he is, that bringing him to writing your card. it’s a simple and clinically underrated way of expressing his gratitude. he’d write you love letters every day if he didn’t suck at them.

may comes out of her room to see peter in the same place he’s been since he got home from school. she looks at him through her glasses, smiling as she comes into the room. he’s tapping his pencil on the table, eraser down, searching his mind for anything to write.

“still nothing?” may asks him, making her way over to the cabinets. peter puts down the pencil and sighs. his shoulders slump. “nope. i haven’t gotten past the intro.” “intro, huh?” she teases her newphew and grabs a jar of sauce. “y/n isn’t your teacher, kiddo. you’re not writing her an essay.” she looks at peter over her shoulder. a sheepish smile creeps onto his face.

“you know what i mean.” he reads over the only words on his paper at the moment. dear y/n. he’s starting to feel like spongebob the one time he wrote a paper. “what are you making?” peter asks may so he can temporarily take the focus off his unwritten valentine. “pasta,” may shakes the box in her hand. “and meatballs.”

“should i dial 911 now or wait until we’re in flames?” peter jokes about her awful cooking skills. may shoos him off and puts the box of pasta on the counter. “worry about your own kitchen nightmare.” she nods at the sheet of paper tormenting him. frowning, he glances back at her. “i’m the worst, may. i really don’t know what to write.”

may struggles to open the jar of sauce as she replies. “i thought you said- jesus.” it pops off. “y/n doesn’t like valentine’s day.” she slides over a pot from the stove and dumps the sauce in. peter stares up at the ceiling. “she doesn’t.” that’s probably why he’s having such a hard time. “why are you writing her a card, then?” may questions, turning on a burner.

“because, i dunno, it’s nice? it’ll make her happy? she might not care, but i do.” he mumbles the last part. he’s a bit of a hopeless romantic, so he hasn’t quite adjusted to the idea you had of not getting each other presents. you’re treating it like a regular day. some takeout and cuddles is all you’re doing.

peter would rather buy you things until his pockets are empty. not that there’s much in them, anyway. the point is that you deserve proper spoiling instead of corny words in his shitty handwriting.

“peter, honey. it might be better to stick with what y/n wants,” may suggests while stirring the sauce in the pot. she’s well aware that a few paragraphs from peter won’t change your mind. your opinions belong to you, and there’s nothing he can do about it, though he does have good intentions.

ignoring what may just said, peter makes a request. “what if you help me write it?” she faces the stove again. he can picture her playful smile when she quirks back, “she’s not my girlfriend.” “no, but you’re a girl... a woman,” he corrects himself, earning a scoff from may. “you’d probably know what sounds good.”

“you know y/n better than me, peter. do it on your own,” she exhales and turns back around with the wooden spoon in her hand. “it’ll be more... heartfelt.” peter hates that may is right because he’s completely stuck. his heart is being stupid today. “okay. i’ll try.” he gives her a slow nod. “why don’t you take a break? come stir the sauce. i’ll start the pasta.”

peter gets up from the table and grabs the spoon from may. she pinches his cheek on her way to the sink, getting a tight lipped smile from him.

this is not good.

the next day at school, peter asks around the lunch table for advice while you’re on line getting food. he feels guilty about it because may told him not to. he’s never going to get your valentine done if he doesn’t, though. it isn’t the worst thing in the world to bring on some co-writers.

“ok, what do you have so far?” betty asks, fully invested in the situation. she’s hoping this will switch up your views on valentine’s day. peter pulls out the same piece of paper from last night and says verbatim what’s on it. “dear y/n.” he looks up at ned and betty, the corners of his mouth twitching down. ned motions with his hand for peter to go on.

“that’s it,” peter confesses and folds the paper back up in shame. “dude, you told us it was a work in progress,” ned winces, betty taking his hand that’s resting on her shoulder. “where’s the progress?” betty patronizes him. they’re making him feel worse than he already did. what great co-writers he’s collaborating with.

peter throws a hand up, an eye roll included. “yeah, it’s terrible. can you help me or not?” mj narrows her own eyes at peter from the other end of his bench. she’s not interested in participating when the conversation is about forcing you to celebrate a holiday you don’t like.

“ooh!” betty squeals and squeezes ned’s hand. “you should make a list.” ned grins, leaning his head on hers. “genius, babe.” “a list of what?” peter furrows his eyebrows as he looks between the two of them. “what you love about y/n,” she explains, ned adding on, “stuff you do together, or you appreciate.”

“put whatever you come up with into sentences and voilà,” betty says in her best french accent. “oui oui,” ned agrees, both of them giggling. that doesn’t sound half bad. peter could manage a list about you. “thank you so much, guys. you literally just saved valentine’s day,” he confidently tucks his paper into his pocket. “it’s what we do,” ned tells him coolly.

“you never asked what i think,” mj cuts in, staring down her friends, who reluctantly meet her gaze. she pushes her bag of goldfish aside and raises an eyebrow. “mj, we know how you feel about valentine’s day.” peter presses his lips together. “y/n feels the same way,” mj reminds him dryly.

it’s true, but he doesn’t want to hear that right now. he’s having a breakthrough.

like clockwork, you appear at the table. you slip into the spot next to peter and put down your lunch tray. “what’d i miss?” you comment on the obvious tension, eyeing betty for an explanation. mj gives it to you. “valentine’s day discourse,” she tells you knowingly. peter shifts in his seat, uncomfortable, like he’s been caught doing something he isn’t supposed to.

he technically has.

“yuck,” you murmur, winding your arms around peter’s neck. “yuck, yuck, yuck.” he finds your words ironic because you then kiss his cheek, and peck his lips when he turns his head. peter puts a hand on your side and lets his eyes go up and down your face. a smile spreads across it, which he returns without thinking about. mj huffs in disapproval. she’s seen enough pda.

peter makes his list later that night. he decided he isn’t being inauthentic because he’s coming up with everything himself. he breezes right through it, jotting down what he loves most about you across the paper. it’s a mess. scribbled out misspellings and shreds of eraser, single words and whole phrases covering both sides. he’s proud of his actual progress.

he’ll write the official letter tomorrow since you’re coming over tonight. he at least has his material. the next, thankfully final, step is to reword it.

you’re ranting to peter about some drama with one of your teachers. he listens intently as always, chuckling when you crack jokes and grinning the entire time, feeling so lucky to have the most passionate, say whatever is on her mind girlfriend ever. seriously, it’s inspiring to watch.

“no, like, i never know what’s going on in that class,” you snort, peter snaking his arms around your middle from behind. “because you don’t pay attention,” he hums with his face nuzzled into the back of your neck. “because it doesn’t make any sense!” you defend yourself. his lips brush against your bare skin, drawing a giggle out of you.

“back to what i was saying,” your voice drips with sarcasm. the two of you naturally gravitate to his room, you walking in first. “she called on me, and i- what’s this?” you escape peter’s arms and head over to his desk. crap, he was working on your valentine and forgot to put it away. it caught your attention because it’s surrounded by crumpled papers and glitter.

peter was... experimenting... with designs for the front of the card. he’s learned that he isn’t too artistic either.

“wait, don’t read that,“ peter tries, but you’ve already got the list in your hands. he anxiously sucks his lower lip into his mouth and comes to stand next to you.

you first see the ‘dear y/n,’ then focus in on a few other words. my person forever, which makes you coo at the paper. insane (in the best way), which makes you gasp dramatically. i know you don’t like valentine’s day, but...

you drop the card back on the desk and let out a breath, shutting your eyes as irritation creeps in. it wouldn’t be fair for you to be mad at peter because it’s a sweet gesture, it really is. just, not for you personally. you’re on opposite sides of the valentine’s spectrum. you despise it, he sort of loves it. you’d hoped to meet somewhere in the middle.

“i thought we said no gifts,” you keep your voice level and spin around to look at peter. his face is painted with guilt. “it’s a card,” he murmurs, then meets your eyes with his brows knitted together. “i can’t even give you a card?” “i mean...” you shrug and shake your head. “look, peter. we had an agreement. i’m not doing valentine’s day.”

his disappointment comes out in the form of hanging his head. “yeah, you’re right. sorry.”

may tried to tell him this would happen, mj tried to tell him, and now you’re telling him. he should’ve expected it. he isn’t sure why he’s being so mopey about it because he was fully aware of your hatred for anything with the word valentine in it. it still hurts. peter just wishes you’d let him have the one day to love you and only you, give you some special attention.

“it’s nothing against you, babe,” you reassure him, noticing the shift in his mood. you put a hand on his shoulder. “i really just don’t like valentine’s day. it feels so... fake to me.” peter musters up a smile that doesn’t meet his eyes. it drops when you loop your arms around his torso.

“if i celebrated, you’d be the first person i’d wanna spend it with.” you punctuate your words with a kiss to his cheek. he rests his chin on your head, you nuzzling your own cheek into his sweater. he’s feeling a bit better now. it’s not about him, that’s what he needs to remind himself. “thanks, baby,” peter speaks lowly into the air. you hum as if to say no problem.

scratch literally everything he’s done.

peter rolls over in his bed, rubbing at his eyes as his alarm goes off. it’s today. happy valentine’s day to... himself. he doesn’t think you’d want to hear it.

he’s not as broken up about everything as the other day. you have your reasons for not celebrating, and peter accepts them. hey, he still gets to spend the whole day with you. you’re technically having an unspoken valentine’s date.

he gets up from his bed with a yawn and starts to dig through his drawers for an outfit. you should be over soon.

before you head over to peter’s, you decide to make a quick stop at cvs for a few things. you ended up feeling pretty terrible about snapping on him essentially for loving you. it was over a harmless valentine, something to make you feel good and be an outlet for the hundreds of romantic bones in his body. basically, you were bitter about having a thoughtful boyfriend.

you want to make it up to him by giving him gifts instead. you’ll never be down with the whole exploitive and capitalistic side of valentine’s day, but there’s a deeper meaning to it than what you give it credit for. you see that now. peter was able to show his love for you through a homemade mess of a card, and you felt it. the price tags don’t matter. the meaning does.

dressed in his nicest sweater with his hair all styled, peter answers your knocking at his door. a grin instantly paints his face as he takes you in. you’re bundled up in a coat and holding a bag by your side. “hey,” he greets you and lets you past him. you shut the door behind him, returning the smile and winding an arm around his neck for a hug. his drapes around your back.

“hey. happy valentine’s day.” “happy valentine’s-“ peter realizes what he’s about to say and what you just said, then stops himself. “what?” he breaks the hug, squinting at your odd behavior. you’re the last person he’d expected to hear that from. “it’s valentine’s day. so, happy valentine’s day,” you tell him like it’s nothing.

he stays quiet while you shrug off your coat and throw it over one of the kitchen chairs. you bring your bag along with you, peter following you in. he’s suspicious. intrigued, and suspicious. it’s been less than a day since he last say you. you had a change of heart that fast? you aren’t the biggest valentine’s day anti he knows anymore?

“where’s may?” you wonder aloud, taking both of peter’s hands in your now free ones. he eyes the shopping bag you put down while you lace your fingers together. “with happy. they’re getting brunch.” he’s never particularly psyched to talk about their relationship. it’s always been in a joking way, though. now, he sounds genuinely upset to go over may’s whereabouts.

“they’re so cute,” you comment, tugging on peter’s hands so he looks at you. “you good?” “great,” peter half lies and nods, then presses a reassuring kiss to your cheek. he’s not bad. puzzled is the word. what you say next only adds to it.

“good. i have a few things for you,” you beam at him and grab your shopping bag off the chair. that’s what that’s for? peter isn’t fully sure what you’re up to. it doesn’t stop a smile from stretching across his lips, though.

“what happened to no presents?” he tests you as you reach into the bag. “well, i feel bad about how i acted the other day.” you pull out a heart shaped box of chocolates. “the card was really sweet, and i was too caught off guard to appreciate it. i’m sorry, pete.” peter’s eyes twinkle at you, gazing as you give him a smile with a hint of shyness behind it. you’re leaving your comfort zone and entering his.

“i was wrong and cynical and just, yeah. happy valentine’s day,” you add on and shove the box into his hand. he finally grins, so wide and then lets out a breathy laugh. “thanks, y/n. i know it was probably hard to shop being surrounded by this stuff.” he holds up the box. he’s right. you’ll unfortunately be seeing pink and red for weeks. “it was, but i did it for you.” you happily open up your arms for him.

peter puts down the chocolates and pulls you into his arms, his cheek squished against the side of your head as he hugs you to his chest. “oh my god, i love you so much,” he mumbles out, you squeezing him in response. “i love you, pete.” you press a quick kiss to his neck and hold him at arm’s length so you can see him. “i have something else for you.”

“baby,” peter coos, a pout on his lips. “you don’t have to do all of this. i would’ve been fine without the chocolates, even.” “stop, you deserve it,” you shut down the part of him that’s way too nice and selfless. “you’re my real present,” he says lower and with a toothy smile. shaking your head, you reach behind you and into the bag.

he can’t believe you’ve switched stances on valentine’s day. you’re the present pusher, and he’s refusing them. peter thinks it’s some sort of miracle that you’re not only acknowledging the holiday, you’re also partaking in it. his hopeless romantic side tells him it’s actually love, and it is. that’s the cheesy, hallmark movie truth. you suffered through shopping at a heart themed cvs because you love him. simple.

you return with a pink envelope that you place into peter’s hand. his face softens as he closes his fingers around it. “y/n, you made me a card?” “kind of,” you laugh at his overstatement. it’s obviously pre-made. you’d used a pen to fill it out in the store, scribbled a few words and tucked it into the envelope.

“it really doesn’t compare to yours, though,” you simultaneously warn and compliment him. peter dismisses you with a lighthearted click of his tongue. “oh, shush. that was only a rough draft.” “which proves my point even more. open it.” you grip onto the bottom of his sweater and grin.

he keeps his eyes on you while ripping open the envelope, then looks down and chuckles at the gag of the card. it has r2d2 and r4d4 from star wars on the front. inside is already written, “r4 is red and r2 is blue. if i was the force then i’d be with you.” you giggle to yourself, watching him read what you wrote next. i love you more every day, especially on valentine’s. xo, y/n.

peter holds the card to his side and slings an arm around your waist. “they make star wars valentines?” he murmurs, another smile breaking out on his face, one that you of course return. you use his sweater to pull him closer. “apparently. perfect for you.” peter tosses the card down next to the chocolates, both arms now holding you.

“thank you so much, baby. you’re an angel,” he sighs and pecks your lips after. “call me cupid,” you answer.

you give him a longer kiss back, tilting your head up to deepen it. your hands find their place on his biceps, earning a hum from peter as he moves his lips against yours. you can feel his love in every little movement, how he hugs your waist like you’re made of glass, rests his forehead against yours. when your lips mutually detach, peter speaks first, voice slightly husky.

“happy valentine’s day, cupid.”

you breathe out, peter closing his eyes in content.

“happy valentine’s day, r2.”

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland smut #peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker smut

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tendercoretroglodyke · 3 years

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... I’m interested in legitimately gay Reese (I assume one piece of evidence is “look at what they’re doing and tell me you’re not gay”)

okay this is like 2 days late but this is why reese malcolminthemiddle is legitimately gay:

(side note: did anyone need a queer media thesis paper or something... I am willing to share lmao)

so none of this is like... rock solid evidence or anything but I need to believe at least one main character of a show is gay and/or trans to maintain interest and reese is the most plausible gay character. also it’s early 2000′s so he just gets a lot of vaguely homophobic jokes lmao

first of all, yes, the biggest piece of evidence he’s gay is those lines from that episode I quoted the other day--thinking malcolm is gay, he tries to show his support by giving him a gay porno: “’Naught Pool Boys 3!’ I watched 10 or 12 of these, and this one seems to have the most stuff you guys like.” and when malcolm says he isn’t gay, reese responds “Malcolm. Check out what those guys are doing in that movie, and THEN tell me you’re not gay.”-- so, 1) reese sat down and watched like a dozen gay porn movies to ““find a good one for his gay brother”” and 2) he thinks malcolm would reconsider his heterosexuality if he watched what was in that movie, implying that HE reconsidered his sexuality after watching that movie, or at the very least found it hot

in the same episode, the character tricking malcolm into thinking reese is gay lists the following as evidence: he obsesses over his hair and his looks, loves his gourmet cooking, has a bunch of magazines covered in comically muscular men, and that he’s angry and acts like a jerk because he’s “dealing with something weird and confusing.” now obviously, the obsession with hair/looks can be chalked up to the fact that he’s a teenage boy, and there’s nothing inherently gay about enjoying cooking. the dozen magazines of muscle-bound men could certainly be taken as gay evidence, though, and it IS established in the show that his entire bully persona is his way of masking his inner feelings and insecurities. there’s literally a whole episode where he & malcolm realize they have no friends because they act like little shits to push people away because they’re afraid of rejection and/or abandonment from their peers. they ostracize themselves before they can be ostracized by the other students at school. I could probably write a whole other essay on reese’s psyche tbqh lmao there’s a shocking amount there!!

of the brothers who are actually old enough to be attracted to girls (reese, malcolm, and francis), he shows the least interest. now bear with me here. you might be thinking, “well, yeah, it’s malcolm’s show, we’re not gonna see things from other people’s perspective!” but that is actually surprisingly untrue, the show is very much equally shown from each family members’ perspectives. starting about s2, when malcolm is in early middle school, he starts getting crushes on girls and pursuing them. francis goes after a few women in the first couple seasons and then marries a woman we see a lot throughout the show.

in the roughly... 130?? episodes I have watched so far, nearly all of reese’s “interest” in girls involve either: competition with malcolm, genuinely just liking her as a friend, or some completely ulterior motive. the only exception to this I can think of is in the early seasons where he has a crush on a cheerleader and tries to get on her good side by joining the cheerleading squad, which the writers clearly set up as a way to make gay jokes about reese. let me give you a few examples of his relationships with girls

the first relationship we see him in is with a “stupid girl” that malcolm tried (and failed) to date, and the main reason they get together is that they think on the same wavelength and genuinely seem to enjoy hanging out. they take breaks from their bro chats to make out every once in a while. eventually he gets her to break up with him because he doesn’t want to go to the school dance with her (he doesn’t want to go at all). years later, he’s dating some girl we meet for like 5 minutes, before he goes to confess to her that she’s the first girl he’s ever loved. she then breaks up with him. he’s sad, but taking it fairly well. he’s about to leave when he sees malcolm hiding under the bed, and learns that he stole his girlfriend. he then runs away to join the army. he was clearly MUCH more upset that his brother stole his girlfriend than he was that his girlfriend broke up with him. there are many more instances of him and malcolm competing for a girl’s affections, and he seems mostly motivated by the competition itself.

in addition to “stupid girl,” he also manufactures an “attraction” to his female army buddy in the last season. the premise of this episode is that his old army buddy (a girl he play-wrestles with and insults like he would his own brothers) comes to visit him, and malcolm convinces reese that she’s attracted to him, and that reese’s nervousness at learning that fact is proof he’s in love with her. there’s a misunderstanding where reese asks her if she has certain “feelings” and she says she does, but what she ACTUALLY means is that she has a crush on reese’s MOM. she’s a lesbian. reese later propositions her (saying he’s saved his virginity for this--he’s probably about 18 here), and when she says omg no im gay, he is HUGELY relieved they can go back to being friends. CLASSIC mlm/wlw friendship moment.

there’s an episode where these cute girls pick up reese (& nerds) to kiss in front of their boyfriends to make them jealous. reese is all for it, and when malcolm argues that it’s not worth his dignity and the beating he’ll get from the girl’s boyfriend, reese counters that that’s WHY he wants to do this--he’s completely invisible at school, and thinks getting beaten up for kissing some guy’s girlfriend will at least make him known around school. at no point does he indicate he’s actually attracted to this girl, and when it comes time to kiss her, he finds the weakest excuse to run away at the last minute.

im not gonna list all of these but there’s more lmao

the following is a random assortment of one-off gay jokes and out-of-context lines with gay reese implications, often homophobically bc its early 2000′s writing:

says “I’m gay” to a girl to give malcolm a better shot at her

(again in competition with malcolm) tries to flirt with a girl by spraying milk in her face as the punchline to a joke, which is. well. hm. self-sabotaging, to say the least!!

Reese: “Do you think it’s right to totally change who you are and turn your back on EVERYTHING you believe in, just to impress a hot guy??” [his dad gives a long, blank stare, before asking:] “...Burt Reynolds hot, or Sting hot?”

“YEAH I like clouds! I call them sky kittens :)” (I just think that one’s sweet!)

“Look, Christie, here’s the thing. When I first met you, I was just messing around. But we’ve gotten so close that, now... I really like you! I can’t keep this up anymore. I’m not the person you think I am. I’ve been pretending since the day I met you. It’s so hard having to constantly cover my tracks to keep my story straight... and I don’t WANT to anymore! I’m tired of living this lie! I’m done with it. I’m sorry.”

he catfishes some guy to blackmail him, but is implied to continue the flirtation even after the catfishing/blackmail is revealed

reese is, technically, married to a man. this particular plot point is played as a joke and manages to be both racist and homophobic, so I won’t go into it. but I believe he is still married to that man. technically.

reese takes care of a huge box full of caterpillars until they pupate and become beautiful butterflies. I feel like there’s some kind of gay coming out metaphor here somewhere.

I think there are a couple other times where he comments on a guy’s attractiveness but I couldn’t find specific instances.

In conclusion: Reese is a deeply repressed gay kid who was socialized SO thoroughly as an early 2000′s straight boy that, despite his attraction for men and his obvious compulsory heterosexuality, he still cannot admit to himself that he is gay even as he enters adulthood. Furthermore, his subconscious frustration about this fact is turned outward to form the “schoolyard bully” costume he uses to mask his insecurities and keep others from getting too close to him.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk. I could be convinced to come back for another talk about how Dewey is trans or about how each and every member of that family is neurodivergent in entirely different ways. Assuming anyone has read this far in the first place!!

#sorry this was so long lmao I legit spent 2 hours on this #I have 2 modes: not doing the thing and overdoing the thing #hey anon if you actually see this I'd appreciate a quick message saying so lmao I'd hate to write all this only for you to miss it #I'll probably rb sometime tomorrow at least #also liz if you're reading this i was GONNA add a bit about francis' gay potential like you mentioned but I ran out of steam so remind me t #i think reese has the most gay potential tho #mitm #malcolm in the middle #anonymous #Anonymous

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silverthetheorist · 3 years

Text

Is there even a “season 3″? (And the light at the end of the tunnel)

I´m back again I guess. I tend to disappear sometimes. Before talking about the main topic of this post let´s catch up on some things:

-Tommy died. I thought about writing something about it, but it was pretty obvious he was going to be revived the next day. I’m surprised that many people actually believed they just killed off Tommy.

- I actually do not hate the Syndicate. I have pretty much hated everything Techno did lore wise (I’m exaggerating but you get the point), but the Syndicate... that I don’t mind. It has a lot of potential. Maybe becuase Nicki is finally included in smth...

-The Red Banquet was good. The egg plot is pretty good everall. I think it was a little bit too stretched out, I was pretty worn out after months of the same thing over and over again. The whole story (Not the Red banquet, the whole egg plot) would have benefited from being a bit more condensed.

-Quackity is doing amazing as always. Not really much I can add to the conversation.

-Ranboo did lore again I guess. Don’t get me wrong, I love the kid to death but I will only give credit to his lore when it actually affects the plot in some way and doesn’t consist of 2 hours of him repeting the same speech over and over again in different ways.

NOW TO THE MAIN TOPIC:

Let’s count all the different storylines happening on the smp at the moment: Tommy/Tubbo/Ranboo vs Dream, the Quackity thing, more of the egg, the Syndicate and all the individual lore from each streamer. That is a good amount of storylines. And a great variety too! You want something more relaxed? Go watch Techno. You want angst? Watch Ranboo. Want to watch a movie but you have already seen all of netflix? Watch Quackity.

What is the problem then? Are the storylines bad? Not really. I think the writing is better than season 2 (VERY low bar there). No, that is not the probem. The REAL problem is:

Can you truly saly you can see all these storylines converge? Can you imagine a satisfying conclution to all of these plots in one massive event? Do you think all these plots have a logical and inevitable point where they will interact significantly witch all of the others? I don’t think so. As much as I do not like season 2, all of it had a point. Defeat Dream. You could see that the different pieces were moving and were going to end up somewhere. Season 1 was even more cohesive. In “season 3″, I can’t see how Dream and the Syndicate will eventually interact. Neither Snowchester and Las Nevadas. The egg is basically wrapping up at this point. It all just fells... disjointed. Not bad. Just, sort of all over the place.

It’s not that these plots can’t interact with each other, for example the Syndicate has interacted with the Eggpire many times, but it all lacks a main goal. There is no light at the end of the tunnel. There is no inevitable conflict, or goal we are all expecting. There is no qrand quest or final fight that this is all leading to. It’s just different things happening at different times with little to no connection with each other.

What I am trying to say is not that “season 3″ is bad or anything like that. But that the idea of a “season 3″ just... does not exist. Season 1 was about L’manburg. Season 2 about Dream (Still hate you season 2). Season 3 is just too many things for it too make sense. I think the SMP has evolved past the idea of seasons as everyone has started doing their own things. With no central writer plotting everything, you can’t have all these stroylines converge (And it would take a damnn good writer to convine all this mess in a cohesive plot). Wether the disappearance of the idea of a “season 3″ is a good or bad thing is up to you, because the stories are great on their own, but they willl never be great as a whole.

PS1: English not first language. Me so sorry. Also, I don’t know how to use the “read more” function so sorry if you hate seing long post.

PS2: Does Tommy just reviving without any requirements cheapen the future deaths in the SMP? Yes and there are a million great essays that explain why. But really... death never had any meaning on the SMP. Do you really think Tommy is going to just leave the SMP for ever? Or anyone for that matter? With how much money the make from it? So I guess it doesn’t bother me. What does bother me is the whole Wilbur thing. Are there books or something in the afterlife? How is Wilbur learning shit whie dead? I try not thinking to hard about all of that. Not worth it.

PS3: The whole Tubbo and Ranboo marriage is magnificent. It is a perfect example of providing character development not only through pain and angst (Looking at you Tommy and Dream). The biggest sign of an amateur writer is the story being 99% suffering and 1% happy. Plot developments can be caused by good things too. And those good developments can lead to even more suffering or happiness.

PS4: Once again I am not sending hate to anyone ever.

#tommyinnit #tubbo #ranboo #dream #dream smp #badboyhalo #antfrost #awesamdude #Nicky #nihachu #technoblade #QUACKITY #wilbur #wilbur soot #philza #captain puffy #foolish #purpled #hannahxxrose

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readerinsertfanfiction · 4 years

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Neeeeeeemo darling❤❤❤! Eeeeeeeep😆😆😆 okay i know i should probs be sleeping buuuut😅😅😅 hehehe yeah😅last spam for the night, else ima kick myself tomorrow for staying up past bedtime 😅😅😅 anyways! 😂😂😂

Could i pretty please with all the candy ontop request a comfort fic with my dearest Theo (hehehe cause no spam would be complete witbout my dearest theodorkus) ❤❤❤❤so basically i loved ya nobu comfort fic so much and like.... my heart melts just as much with fics where the suitors gets comforted and built up🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺😳😳😳😳plus i feel like Theo needs one big hug for all the shit he goes through and has gone thru! Plus his work o holiness ❤❤☺😳

😳hehehe love ya to infinity! Hehehe okay i am finally off to bed😅for reals this time😅😅can ya tell i was thinking about that nobu comfort fic you did😅😅😅and then was like u know who else needs cuddles 😂😂//insert that meme of remembering unfinished homework 😂😂❤😳pfffffft whooooops left ya another essay 😅😅😅😳😳😳😳 night darling Nemo❤❤❤❤may u go to bed early and have sweet dreams🍁❤🥺

Zetaaaaa-daaaaarling!!! Y u no sleep? No kicking yourself, only sleeping more and less gym time and more me-time! 😂😂😂

I’m surprised that the comfort the suitor fics are getting popular now, because it isn’t like it is the first time I write them, just the first time I wrote for Nobu, I guess. 😂😂😂

I lub your rambles, Zeta-dearest. They’re so cute and really brightens the mood and makes your requests not so standard as well (and gives me a reason to talk more as well because apparently Tumblr still thinks I’m an oyster 😅😅😅).

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Character: Theodor(k)us van Gogh

Prompt: Some comfort for the dork

When Theo woke up that day he knew that there was something off. The cool of the morning chilled him, his blankets were not enough, and there was an empty space next to him. A space usually occupied by you, but Theo knew that you had to leave early today. Yet, the space was glaring at him, the spot already cool from the heat that had evaporated.

Even the colours of the world seemed a little dimmer, duller. The garden wasn’t as captivating, his brother’s paintings didn’t fill him with the joy and spark he usually felt. And then there was the light throbbing of his scar. It felt sore and tender as the man groaned into his pillow, wondering what the day had planned for him.

"Sorry, they're a little burned," Sebastian had apologised at the breakfast table, horrifying him further. Was this how his entire day was to go? The bottle of maple syrup that Theo was so known to love was also half empty, though in the back of his mind an annoying voice told him to cheer up, followed by your chipper encouraging one;

'Kop op! You can still pour it!'

Theodorus wondered when you would return. He knew that you lived your own life just like he had his own. He even admired you for it, encouraging you to pursue your own path despite the strange times. But without you by his side Theo’s day felt off, strange, and it was the space next to him that he was missing. It felt as if eons had passed since he had felt your warmth, but he knew that he was being dramatic if he were to express it.

'Of all days to be busy…' he thought. A gentle press onto his shoulder followed and the sunny smile of his brother came into view.

"Goedemorgen Theo," Vincent chirped, but even his beloved brother's winning smile didn't help defrost the chill within. As if the chill he had frozen over instead, holding him hostage in this state of demurity and slight helplessness.

"Are you alright?" Vincent had questioned, those clear blue eyes nothing but sincerity and worry. It made Theo feel even worse who could only grimace back at his older brother and reassure the man that he was, perhaps just a little tired.

“The old chap is missing his darling,” Arthur had beamed up instead, hoping to draw out a reaction from Theo. The silence he was met with and the solemn confirmation within those dark blue eyes of the Dutchman floored even the infamous author, however. This had been a look that Theo hadn’t worn in a long while, at least not since you entered into his life.

Theo wasn’t the type to wear his emotions openly. Guarded as he was he kept them all securely locked away, sometimes even from himself as he didn’t want to be reminded of his own darkness and traumas. It had taken him so long to finally open up to you, and even then he had moments in which he relapsed.

Even the pompous asses of the Académie seemed to have taken note of his solemnity, for once keeping out of his way as they stared after him, striding in and out of the place as chitchats were kept to a bare minimum. A reaction that was for the best, for Theo didn’t feel like barking for once. Not at them, or at anyone.

“A note?”

The folded piece of paper stretched out to him came from a young boy that the two of you had helped. A budding talent, Theo had only needed to see the sand drawings the boy had made with his stick and an apprenticeship later the boy had turned into a little friend.

“I was told to give this one if you’re sad,” the boy explained, earning a quirk from Theo’s brows as he held out his hand, picking the note with his other.

“And if I was not?” he inquired, but the boy didn’t need that many words to understand what the art-dealer wanted;

“Then there was none, other than to tell you to ditch your hat.”

The child was much too witty as well, but the man let it slide as he chuckled, a grin spreading over his face for the first time of the day. With a tip of his hat the male turned away, leaving the last ignored as he unfolded the note;

‘Lonely? Ditch the hat. :) <3’

This earned another chuckle from the man, your familiar hand and the strange symbols that were supposed to mean something lifted something within him. When he looked up from the note the sky seemed a little bluer and the sun a bit brighter.

Adjusting his hat Theo pulled the piece off, looking down at the gray cap that matched his suit so well. “If that would summon you,” he contemplated. He often ignored your jabs at his hat, finding nothing wrong with the piece. But if he had to choose between the two of you his choice would have been easily made. It didn’t matter how attached he pretended to be, there were other hats, but there was only one you.

“Did you ditch it?” your voice popped up, your figure peeking up at him from behind as your face fell at the sight of the hat in his hands, “at least it isn’t on your head,” you pouted, rather disappointed, though grimaced at him all the same as Theo stared at you rather dumbfounded.

“Surprise?” you tell the man with a chuckle as you move your hands in the air, “I just finished, let’s go home together?”

Theo didn’t need to be asked a second time. Nor did he manage to answer in a smart quip or with his usual classics. The hat dropped out of his hand and arms wrapped around you, pulling you in and close as he felt himself defrost against your warmth. An exhale of relief followed after as now the man felt whole once more. A huff from your side filled with mirth ringing in his ears and committed to memory.

“Oh, who is the pup now,” you jovially exclaim, but you pat his back all the same. Comforting the man that would never admit the gloom and doom of the hours spent without you.

#ikevam theo #ikevamp theo #ikemen theo #ikemen vampire theo #ikemen vampire #ikevam #ikevamp #ikevam x reader #ikevamp x reader #ikemen vampire x reader

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prayerforlove · 3 years

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How to have petty beef: a five-step guide by 18th and 19th century figures

Somewhere along the way, British people got the reputation of being very polite. However true that may be, these 18th and 19th century feuds—real and fictional—certainly didn’t help establish it. If you’re looking at Kanye’s public meltdown and feeling uninspired about the current state of public feuds, cast your gaze back a century or two, and you’ll find some lessons that still apply to today. 18th and 19th century figures present, for your consideration: how to have petty beef. Featuring many Kanye cameos.

1. Make it public, and, by god, make it messy: Jonathon Swift and Lady Mary Wortley Montagu

It all started with a fateful poem: Jonathan Swift’s “The Lady’s Dressing Room.” Swift notoriously loved a good laugh (see: the world’s first pro-baby eating piece of work, A Modest Proposal), which led to his writing a poem about a man who sneaks into a beautiful lady’s dressing room only to find that, under her powders and perfumes, she’s stinky and hairy. And then the shoe drops: “Oh! Celia, Celia, Celia shits!” (43-44). This did not sit well with Lady Mary Wortley Montagu. Luckily, she contacted Swift and they calmly aired their grievances in private—no, I’m kidding, she wrote a response poem called “The Reasons That Induced Dr. S. to Write a Poem Called ‘The Lady’s Dressing Room.’” Thus we arrive at Swift and Montagu’s lesson: make it public and make it messy. Montagu follows through on the former through the title of her poem (the name dropping is a nice touch), and the latter by asserting that the speaker in Swift’s poem is launching a smear campaign on the titular lady because of sexual frustration. If that’s messy, then the last line is chaos: “She answered short, "I'm glad you'll write./You'll furnish paper when I shite’” (23-24). And the whole world just got to sit back and watch.

2. Operate under the assumption that you’re correct about everything and everyone else is wrong: Alexander Pope and… well, a lot of people

Alexander Pope beefed indiscriminately. If you were an author in the 18th century, then there was a good chance you were going to appear in Pope’s Dunciad, a chronical of Pope’s least favorite writers and their faults. Eliza Haywood, touted as Mrs. Novel in her time, received this treatment (I invite you to recall one Kanye West interrupting one Taylor Swift at the VMAs). Pope draws from some innate authority that he assumes automatically earns him the moral high ground. Or, put simply, if you write a decisive enough poem, then you get to be right about things. Take Pope’s “Essay on Man,” where Pope regales the reader with the correct view of humanity. He knows, by the way, because he’s super tight with God: “Laugh where we must, be candid where we can;/ But vindicate the ways of God to man” (15-16). Other assertive statements throughout the poem provc that confidence is key—you can feud with anyone you want if you dibs the moral, intellectual, and literary high ground. And also let everyone else know they suck, since, after all, “Whatever is, is right” (290).

3. An alternate approach—try condescension under the guise of politeness: Mr. Bennet and Mr. Collins

Petty feuding went beyond the realm of reality into fiction with Mr. Bennet and Mr. Collins, characters in Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. If you’re not 100 percent into the devastating public throwdown approach or the “God told me I’m right” approach, you can try beating around the bush a little. When tragedy befell the Bennet family, Mr. Collins took it upon himself to write a consolatory letter. The letter’s just a victory lap after Mr. Collins was rejected by Mr. Bennet’s daughter, but he can’t just come out and say that. So he takes the long way: “They agree with me in apprehending that this false step in one daughter will be injurious to the fortunes of all the others; for who, as Lady Catherine herself condescendingly says, will connect themselves with such a family?” (319). Even when the tragedy’s resolved, he claims he’s “truly rejoiced” but is “only concerned that their living together before the marriage took place should be so generally known” (347). Very nice; very Regina George. Of course, Mr. Bennet, after his favorite daughter secured a very opportune marriage, responded with the same saccharine niceties: “I must trouble you once more for congratulations. Elizabeth will soon be the wife of Mr. Darcy” (365). Bonus points if this whole exchange happens over a cup of tea.

4. When traditional methods fail, you can just amp up the audacity: Percy Shelley and William Wordsworth

Percy Bysshe Shelley is here to assure you: in the name of public beef, there is no line that you can’t cross. Audacity! That’s what we’re looking for. And that’s what second-generation Romantic poet Shelley took advantage of in his feud with the first-generation William Wordsworth. Wordsworth had done his time as a radical artist, and had retreated into a cushy government position. Shelley had… feelings about this. He took a moment to reflect on these feelings, went to see Wordsworth, and—sorry, still no, looks like that’s never going to happen. Shelley wrote a eulogy to Wordsworth (aptly titled “To Wordsworth”—again with the name-dropping), with a clear message: you’re so disappointing compared to your younger self, you might as well be dead. Ouch. In true Kanye fashion, the poet doesn’t mince words: “In honoured poverty thy voice did weave/Songs consecrate to truth and liberty,—/Deserting these, thou leavest me to grieve,/Thus having been, that thou shouldst cease to be” (11-14). If you’re allowed to go there, it follows that there’s nowhere you can’t go—Shelley approves.

5. Go for broke if it’s about politics: Thomas Paine and Edmund Burke

The feud-inducing item for the past few examples have been literary—but things only get more heated when politics gets thrown into the mix. The French Revolution was of particular political interest to eighteenth-century English citizens, cleaving the country neatly into pro- and opponents. Edmund Burke was a strong opponent, vilifying the revolution and its supporters in the name of family and humanity, using such charged words as “alarm, dismay, and slaughter,” before launching into an imagined account of the Queen’s distress (1131). Thomas Paine felt a little differently about the revolution, and those feelings bled into his feelings about Burke. He critiques Burke’s “horrid principles,” pointing out his apparent “rancour, prejudice, ignorance, [and] knowledge” (1132). We’ve come to expect this behavior from poets, but Enlightenment-era essayists? The shocking dress-down can only be the result of politics-fueled fury, which might sound familiar. If it does, incredible news: channeling your anger about a person’s political beliefs into anger at them is super 18th/19th century approved. Especially if that person wrote a really annoying think piece about it.

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sleepymccoy · 4 years

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Aziraphale’s demon aspect

As voted by 246 people!

The winner is

Owl

with nearly 26% of the primary vote

many people added in their free form answers that they were imagining a barn owl specifically

Owl was the front runner the whole way through this survey, but most of the time by a very beatable margin. The 40 or so people who voted in the last night really tipped it over, it was a tight race! And the results are crazy split imo, a quarter of votes constitutes a win! I love the different opinions and ideas we all have so so much

Ram/sheep came in a hearty second with 16.5% of the vote

A very regal demon there.

After that it gets a little murky, so I’m going to share the second graph I made when is every animal that got more than 1% of the vote. So it’s the top six animals

Magpie and Lion holding strong! Then Moth and Goat looking very good

The second question let you vote for as many options as you thought were appropriate for Aziraphale! So, there were a lot more write-ins! It’s crazy!

I’m using google sheets so I can’t get it to show you every name, but the raw data will be in a read more so you can scroll through everyone’s beautiful imagination there

Again, Owl winds with a solid 20% of the vote. Ram/Sheep coming in with about 15%, followed by Moth, Magpie, Goat, Lion, then Tortoise.

Tortoise was 11th in the first round, tied with Snake (but pale), and managed to surprise me by coming through so strong in the second. Slow and steady, baby.

Nearly everyone who wrote in about Magpies told me that Magpies hoard stuff, so it’s nice to see the hive mind at work there!

Five people told me they were voting goat because of that one piece of art by @hollow-head that shows Aziraphale scaling a bookshelf like goats do cliffs. As an artist myself I found it legitimately moving that this one image had stayed with people so strongly. That’s just beautiful. Here’s an example of just one person’s comment

idk dude i just remember one person posted art of him scaling the bookstore shelves like those goats scale mountains and just eating his clothes while he reads it was so fuckin funny but anyway goat eyes are great or he could have lil stubby horns that r covered by his hair

One moth enthusiast took the time to give me a short essay on their choice of moth. I have included a portion of it, cos it was so great

So if I had to choose an insect, it would be a moth, preferably a Megalopygidae, also known as the Flannel Moth. They are fluffy, white-beige and look innocent and fluffy, but their larvae can cause painful inflammations. A poodle moth would also fit because it's almost pure white.

Here’s a flannel moth for everyone

and a poodle moth, which i honestly thought was a hoax but i looked into it just now and it seems legit? There’s not a tonne of proof, but the og pictures are from a scientists who stands by them, so like, wow

And then a DIFFERENT PERSON put this in;

the moth i had in mind is Acherontia atropos, in polish called Zmierzchnica trupia główka (meaning more or less "dusk death's head"). i have a whole symbolism planned out and stuff

Fucking, moth fandom come through!!

I’m vaguely scared of moths, fun fact. I don’t like the thick thunking sound they make when they hit stuff.

Here is the second round but with all the animals that got four or less votes removed for ease of viewing

the one segment there at 12 o’clock that google hasn’t labeled for me is Swan at 0.9%

I cannot believe I didn’t put swan in as an option, that’s all write-ins

So, to summarise, I suggest you take a lot of this with a grain of salt. It is not meant as an instruction to fandom or to railroad creativity. I have a narrow corner of the Good Omens fandom that I interact with, and while this quiz was up for a week I’m not sure it reached a great variety of people. About 250 folks filled it out, which was tonnes more than I expected and I love each and every one of you for filling it out!! But I have noticed that Owl was first on my list and in the free form answers the example prompt I gave included, “such as a breed of owl that specifically speaks to you,“ so I think it’s possible I did that unknowing bias thing that practiced survey folk know now to do. So, grain of salt.

I also think that if animals like Swan and Cat were in the list of options they’d’ve gotten more votes because the people who voted for those were coming up with it fresh themselves. I suspect people would’ve voted for them, but it just didn’t occur to them in the moment. In much the same way it didn’t occur to me in the moment I was writing this survey.

So people know, I got the ten or so animals that I put in the survey from searching the demon!aziraphale tag on tumblr, so it was all stuff that other people had come up with. I was trying to avoid my own bias, but i think in hindsight i could’ve done better!

Having said all that, this was all so much fun and the results are clear!!! Love a good owl!aziraphale

Imma continue to draw my boy as a ram, though. Cos this was all just for a laugh <3

numbers and a few more things under the cut

So some of these have half a vote ascribed to them. That’s for people who in their freeform answer said things like this;

ngl, that one post about him being a swan still makes me laugh

Mourning Dove. Though that Scallop answer was fucking brilliant

And I kinda made a judgement call that that wasn’t a vote, but it was kind of a vote. So I gave them half a point.

There were a few situations where people would write in a specific species. If I got more than one vote for the root animal I just grouped them together, but if it stayed the only vote then it kept the species. Cat got the most specific species mentioned, and in the second vote Bat had a few species mentioned (albino bat being my fave), but I ended up grouping them all just under Cat and Bat to give them a better chance of getting on the graph. There were probably a few other examples but I can’t think of them. The one exception to this is the person who wrote-in Duolingo Owl specifically. For that one I figured Owl is already pretty solid, and that’s just fucking funny, man

I was also pretty generous about some stuff. So, this person didn’t vote for Moose but they clearly regretted it so I added a vote for Moose in the second one where you could vote for multiples. They kept their Ram and Goat votes, of course, but I added Moose for them

I get very bastard energy from my demon az headcanons. Like f-ing shit up for a laugh more than anything, but otherwise indifferent. That's kinda why I like the ram/sheep/goat thing so much because it reminds me of indifference and random chaos. Or a moose. Shit, I should have written in moose

So yeah, it’s hardly a double blind study that’d stand up to any real criticism, but it was fun and I think the essence of it is fun!! Scroll through and have a read. Imma pull a few more of my fave write-ins and put them down the bottom cos it’s great. Esp the ones that only got one vote, the reasonings were stellar on some of those

Here is the first vote results, where everyone could only vote for one animal each

Owl 63 Ram/Sheep 40 Magpie 28 Lion 26 Moth 21 Goat 17 Swan 4 Eagle 4 Dove 4 Cat 4 Tortoise 3 Snake 3 Scallop 2 Rat 2 Rabbit 2 Mongoose 2 Badger 2 Shima Enaga 1 Shark 1 Porcupine 1 Orangutan 1 Mouse 1 Long Furby 1 Hippopotomaus 1 Goose 1 Duck 1 Dragon 1 Cow 1 Cereberus 1 Boar 1 Bee 1 Bat 1 Alpaca 1

Second Vote results, where everyone could vote for as many as they wanted

Owl1 82 Ram/Sheep 136 Moth 108.5 Magpie 98 Goat 96 Lion 72 Tortoise 61 Snake 37 Eagle 33 Cat 9.5 Swan 7.5 Lizard 4 Rabbit 4 Badger 3 Mongoose 2 Dove 2 Mouse 2 Squirrel 2 Bear 2 Raccoon 2 Capybara 2 Dragon 2 Bat 1 Long Furby 1 Rat 1 Boar 1 Goose 1 Peacock 1 Pangolin 1 Lindworm 1 Moose 1 Chinchilla 1 Duolingo Owl 1 Cackatoo 1 Crow 1 Cow 1 Alpaca 1 Dodo 1 Shark 1 Big Dog 1 Snow Leopard 1 Scallop 0.5

All voting was optional. To help explain how scallop lost 1.5 votes from first to second, I believe the people who voted for it in the first question just skipped the second cos they’d said their bit.

In terms of how many people engaged with the questions, Q1 had 245 answers and one skip. Q2 had 241 answers and 5 skips, and Q3 where I just let people talk at me if they wanted to had 84 answers and 162 skips.

So please enjoy my selection of free form answers. They all made me smile but putting all 84 in seems excessive to me, so I’ve chosen the ones that are either full blown mini essays or that make me laugh. It’s still a lot, this project brought me so much joy

Shima enaga - It's the hair man

Cow (aka golden calf)

Scallop. He is a snack.

Swan. Elegant but very capable of fscking you up. Mates for life.

basically anything that is both gentle in nature and fiercely loyal, territorial and protective (but prone to anxiety). Also hedonistic esp. with food. For all of these reasons, I think a dog would be the best choice.

Dragon with his hoard of books

it’s about the teeth. just too sharp and too many to be human. (comment from op here, this person voted for shark, just for context)

Turkish Angora cat. Magnificently fluffy, incredibly intelligent, love heights and will jump off crazy high things and land on your head, gloriously dignified until they see a string and run into a wall, love one or maybe two persons to distraction and want everyone else to fuck off, will drape themselves over their person’s shoulders and go to sleep, range from “will jump in the sea to hunt fish and has a murder pit full of seagulls they’ve massacred” to “will fall over at the sight of a baby bird”, very particular about food and will yell at you if you get it wrong. Also the breed that some asshole took three cats from and bred parent to child to make Persians. The cautionary tale has been acknowledged and we love our crazy smart, single braincelled children.

I usually imagine him as an owl because they are nocturnal (and we know that Aziraphale can easily stay awake the whole night reading). Also the image of an owl puffed up is kind of ridiculous and reminds me of him, of how an annoyed Aziraphale would look. However the options above have made me think that a lion would suit him very well, too. A lion or just a very BIG cat. I mean, he makes pleading eyes to get what he wants, likes to be confortable, is a bit of a bastard and often puts himself in awkward situations from which he needs to be rescued. He just... acts very cat-like in my opinion. Also owls and cats are both predators, but are usually imagined (or, at least cats are) as cute little creatures, just like Aziraphale is an Angel of the Lord (a Warrior, actually) but looks all soft and cute and huggable. I dunno. Maybe I just want to pet an Aziracat.

I love all the other people's thoughts about demon!Aziraphale, but what about the honey badger? I try to explain why I have it in mind for demon!azi: its name (I think it's funny, expecially in English because 'honey' can make you imagine it's something sweet (it is for me), while the 'bad' in badger can be an alarm bell (like 'be careful! It is not like it seems!')); its face (ok, who can say its face isn't cute? I think, and hope, nobody can, and like the name, it is a misunderstanding: as always, be careful, it's not like it seems!, I think demons can say something about demon!azi as like "you don't seem like a 'good' demon, you can't be, your face (animal and human) is too f-ing disgusting sweet to be a demon!", I think maybe even angel!crowley, at the beginning, can think something like this ("how in the world somebody so cute like you can be a demon?"), then he discovered how demon!azi can be a very talented demon sometimes, but in Crowley's mind azi is still his little cutie angry furry); its furry's colour (black=demon, white/grey/silver/idkitsname= color of demon!azi's wings, because even if he fell, I can't say no to his white wings 😭); it is a snake's predator (and in my mind angel!crowley is still a snake); its solitary life (demon!aziraphale is alone and he doesn't mind it, unless it's angel!crowley we're talking about, then our cute demon minds it); its behaviour (demon!azi, even if he's cute, can be a really very talented demon: honey badger is fearless and dangerous, it can fight bigger animals if there aren't other chances and it can't escape); its skin is very tough (except for a soft/safe spot, behind its neck if I remember well, that only angel!Crowley knows and sometimes he uses it to calm demon!azi down or make azi do some good deeds); its diet (it has a sweet-thooth, for honey in primis, but it can eat everything it wants... Doesn't it resemble demon!azi?); it's smart (search for Stoffle on your browser if you don't know)... Ok,I think I finish, sorry for the novel 😅

I tend to think of animals that meet three criteria: (1) they exemplify “faults” in his character exaggerated to “sins”—gluttony, greed/hoarding, sloth, (2) they are species that favor fawning or flight as a defense mechanism but can also be bold on occasion, and (3) blend very well or have a keen affinity with human society, specifically thriving in urban (i.e., city) environments. This is mostly because I can’t see “Aziraphale” in a reverse AU that doesn’t preserve some of his core traits as an angel (a little hedonistic, hoarding, anxious, etc.). So I like city-dwelling bastard animals with bonus points for relation to scripture, like a rock dove or a fox or an owl.

Owls aren't smart, and the pedant in me says not an owl. But, thinking on it, demon aspect, owls are perceived as smart, but designed as deadly silent predators, patient and solitary. So actually demon Aziraphale could take on more owlish aspects. I just like cockatoo better, since they are smart, and showy. Or a crow, although that does amusing things with Crowleys name.

god imagining him as a chimera is !!! (comment from op, there was this odd flurry of mythical animals being voted for one night. i think the survey hit a corner of fandom that leans that way. there was also dragon, another chimera, a griffon, and a lindworm all at the same rough time)

Magpies are great because they’re cute and fluff themselves up (go look at Sophie the magpie) and like hoarding their favorite things but also I’ve watched one just straight up kill another bird before because corvids are sneaky little bastards with no lack of a mean streak if they’re crossed

It’s the duolingo owl, I’m so sorry op but it just is. I genuinely don’t mean to clown on your post, but this take was delivered to me in a sleep induced haze and I believe it’s the god given truth. Demon Aziraphale WOULD try to make you learn a dead language and he’d go about it in a vaguely threatening way (comment from op, you’re so fucking right dude. also, shit like this is made for clowning, i’m with you 100%)

When choosing a demon aspect for a Aziraphale, I usually tried to keep in mind the artistic tradition of which animals are linked with demons. The Good Omens team seems to have drawn inspiration from that source because all the animals we do see are either reptilian or insectoid. Those species were often shown inhabiting hellish landscapes in Renaissance and Baroque paintings. However, Aziraphale never struck me as cold or slimy or hard like an exoskeleton. So if I had to choose an insect, it would be a moth, preferably a Megalopygidae, also known as the Flannel Moth. They are fluffy, white-beige and look innocent and fluffy, but their larvae can cause painful inflammations. A poodle moth would also fit because it's almost pure white.

Ok so the only reason I pick magpie is because those bastards are smart as hell but also know how and when to inconvenience the shit out of you, and if you gain their trust then they're absolute darlings but if they decide "nah, dont like ya" then you're basically done and you'll wake up every morning with shit on your car window. I also chose sheep/ram cuz I mean... idk it suits him. I don't remember my other choice but I'm sure I had a good reason.

I feel like a barn owl would suit him well but I'm not really sure why, I also think that a moth would suit him really well because of the whole "moth to a flame" thing and as a demon he would have gotten burned because of that attitude.

I write a reverse AU fic called Lambs to the Slaughter where Aziraphale's demonic aspect is an albino sheep! I imagine him as a mix between a wild Argali ram and the first woolly domestics. I chose an Argali because they're the largest species of wild sheep, but I wanted him to have traits of a domestic breed because he obtains his animal aspect from a sheep in Abel's flock which would be several generations down from the original wild species in Eden. I really think a sheep suits Aziraphale! They're an incredibly common animal and have been since they were first domesticated. Likewise, since the start of human history, Aziraphale has been living side-by-side with humans, providing for them, and protecting them. Due to how common they are, sheep are often unnoticed, which Aziraphale leans into. Crowley wants to stand out. He has a dedicated aesthetic and an obsession with human invention, where Aziraphale leans more towards simpler, known things and creature comforts. He fades into the background, and that suits him fine. He doesn't have to be outstanding to Heaven or to humans or even to Crowley -- it's enough to do his part, to trust in a bigger plan. People associate sheep (especially lambs) with innocence or ignorance which foils nicely to Crowley as the serpent tempting with knowledge, as well as with Aziraphale's own sharp mind and ongoing embers of faith in a system that is failing him, Crowley, and all of humanity. Sheep are, like Aziraphale, soft, cute, and hiding a hard-headed stubbornness and a surprising strength that makes them absolutely fearsome. Aziraphale is very much the sort to put his head down and push relentlessly forward regardless of the pressure and strain. Rams in particular have thick skulls to withstand the brutal force of headbutting one another in displays of dominance. While Aziraphale is clever, he's not above rolling up his sleeves and getting the job done, as messy and unpleasant as it might be (see: pulling a gun on the Antichrist). Also sheep are associated with Pan, a god associated with food, music, theatre, and the criticism thereof, which hit many of Aziraphale's personal interests and hobbies! I like the idea that in a reverse AU, the demon formerly named Aziraphale might be the original basis for Pan!

I wrote in Orangutan for the first question because if I remember correctly they are some of the most violent apes. Although I'd accept bonobo for him too. They fuck alll the time.

mothman aziraphale,,,,, thats it

Snowy owl, speremint's tortoise, and I just adore the goat.

moth - dusty and eats books

Long Furby the way Loni-Capri draws it.

I keep thinking about that Black Philip quote "doest thou wish to live deliciously" because... it fits so much with the general epicurean/hedonism vibe the Fandom has for him ... but in a demonic way and also I think a lot abt that art piece (already referenced many times probably but what the hell) of him climbing his own bookshelves, it's just so good!!

Albino Lion/white lion (matches his hair). I feel like maybe I should explain why I think Lion would fit him best, lol. Lions actually are rather sedate, inactive for 20 hours of the day (see: Aziraphale reading and unmoving- yes I pulled wiki for this to make sure I didn't spout anything terribly wrong, shhh) but also there's nomad lions. Lions that range widely and move around sporadically either alone or in pairs (*looks at Crowley after apoconope*) (pairs are more frequent among males who have been excluded from their birth pride) but also I think of lions as protectors, defenders, and what is Aziraphale if not that? If not an angel who fiercely protects humans, crowley, earth? (When he finally overcomes heaven and it's abuse) lions don't hunt unless they're hungry, don't attack unless they're defending. They've been known to sit directly next to jeeps full of people and just watch them, not attacking or being aggresive.

I saw art once (I have no idea who the artist is) of Demon!Aziraphale climbing his bookcases like a goat and absentmindedly chewing on his sweater while he reads. I felt like the goat aspect suited him perfectly.

Honestly I wrote Az with a rat aspect because, well, it fits who I see demon Az as. He's not super powerful but he is very consequential, like rats carrying plague fleas (this also describes how I see Az tempting). He tries to blend into a crowd, which is arguably one way rats survive, and can get himself into places/situations that should be impossible or super difficult. Like snakes, rats have been unfairly maligned by our culture for a long time, even though they are very social with their colonies, smart, affectionate, and generally good beans. Finally, male pet rats are known far and wide as the lazier of the sexes while the girls are super curious and adventurous.

Somehow his tartan pattern becomes either his colour scheme or his coat/feather pattern.

Eurasian eagle owl. A big, unapologetic grump of an owl that is soft as soft can be underneath. Possessor of the glare to end all glares to be used in such dire situations as being interrupted when reading or being told one has "had enough cake".

#demon!aziraphale #reverse omens #sleepy speaks #fandom vote #aziraphale's demon aspect #this was so fucking fun you all

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