#living their best liberal arts college lives

[rebelfell]

Surrender

Eddie Munson x fem!Reader x lesbian!Chrissy Cunningham

When your boyfriend Eddie wants to introduce you to his old friend, you can't help being worried he’s secretly interested in her. As it turns out, he’s not the one you had to worry about.

Part One. Part Two. Part Three.

cw: established relationship, platonic!hc (eddie and chrissy are college besties), jealous/insecure reader, alcohol - nothing too explicit yet because this is mostly establishing and setting up. Time period is modern-ish.

Everyone is aged early 30s. 5k 18+, MDNI

“Are we sure tonight is the best night?”

You hate the whininess of your own voice as you call out to Eddie from the bathroom. Hearing your petulant question, he promptly appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his head tilted at you and a sweet smile on his lips.

“What’s up, princess? You don’t wanna go?”

He’s already dressed for your night out and, of course, looks perfect. Dark jeans and a black dress shirt, untucked and unbuttoned at the collar to reveal the guitar pick hanging around his neck. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows to show off his forearms and tattoos, chunky silver rings catching the light as he drums his fingers on the door jamb. His hair is down and loose around his shoulders, looking hydrated and bouncy from the cream you bought for him after he went through a whole tube of your own. It never made your hair look as good as it did his, anyway.

You, on the other hand, are a mess. Hair falling flat despite being freshly styled. Wearing a flippy-skirted sundress you normally liked for the way it cinched your waist and accentuated your shape, but tonight feels more like a vice you’ll be prone to spill out of. Sweating through your light make-up and struggling to get your winged eyeliner to match—a losing game if there ever was one.

The past ten minutes you’ve done nothing but huff and grunt and sigh at your fruitless efforts, hands only getting more unsteady the more flustered you became.

For weeks, you’ve had these plans to meet up with Eddie’s old friend who was back in Hawkins for a visit. But now, less than half an hour from when you were due to meet them at The Hideout, all your resolve is crumbling. And it’s not so much the thought of going out that has you fledgling, but rather who you’re going to meet.

You’ve heard a lot of stories over the years about Chrissy Cunningham.

You knew she and Eddie had attended the same high-school, along with most of his other closest friends. But unlike the rest, Chrissy and Eddie’s knowledge of each other was mostly peripheral until they wound up at the same small liberal arts college after graduation. 

There were tales of them pulling all-nighters in the library, dominating beer pong and flip-cup tournaments at frat houses, leading epic tee-peeing sprees across campus on Halloween. Somewhere in there was an ex-boyfriend of hers Eddie would refer to as the human incarnate of spoiled milk—evidently this was the same guy who had labeled Eddie as the local demon summoner of their hometown.

“I stole his yearbook and drew a pentagram on the last page. Pretty sure he burned it,” Eddie told you once, lips spread in a devious smile.

In none of these stories had there been mention of anything romantic; nothing even hinted at other than a platonic with a capital “P” friendship. But still, you couldn’t help but wonder. Surely being that close there had to be something more. They were both attractive, clearly got along well. They’d kept in touch all this time, and if she didn’t live so far away you’re sure you would have met her long before now. She sent him postcards from all the varied places she traveled for work, and always signed them with three little x’s.

Sensing your frustration in the way only he can, Eddie quickly closes the distance separating you. He comes to stand behind you with his chest pressed against your back and winds his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder to meet your gaze in the mirror.

“Come on, baby,” he coaxes you gently. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I don’t know,” you mutter. “I’m tired and stressed out. Not in good first impression mode.”

You use these meaningless descriptors because you can’t quite articulate the way Chrissy makes you feel without sounding like a big baby. Eddie’s Hawkins High yearbook is basically a shrine to her, plastered with seemingly endless pictures of her cheering and being crowned as queen of something no less than three times. And even in those grainy black and white photos, she’s completely radiant. Meanwhile, all you could find of Eddie was his standard portrait and one shot of him in the club photos with his D&D group, making his favorite devil face.

“Hey,” he coos, low and soft in your ear. “You’re gonna be great. She’s gonna love you as much as I do. Well, almost.”

You huff, unable to fully enjoy the warmth of his breath on your skin, because you’re not exactly worried whether or not Chrissy will like you.

You’re trying not to be needy; trying not to feel so insecure at the prospect of meeting Eddie’s old friend; trying not to compare yourself to someone you’ve never even laid eyes on in person. But it’s so unbelievably difficult. Because as far as you can tell…she’s basically his dream girl.

You’d already quizzed him about it relentlessly, but the urge to rehash it one last time is too strong. Some part of you knows it’s pointless—that there’s nothing he can say to assuage this relentless doubt gnawing at your insides. If there was, he would have said it. And yet…

“So you guys were just friends? You never dated?”

“Nope. Never.”

You frown, despite his answer, chewing on the inside of your lip and staring at the sink to avoid his gaze. He places his fingers beneath your chin and tilts your face back up.

“What?” he asks with a smirk. “You don’t believe me?”

“Of course I do,” you groan. “It just doesn’t make sense—you say she was like your best friend, and you guys were doing everything together, and yet somehow you never ever considered, even once, asking out the prettiest, most popular girl from your high-school?”

The slight whine in your voice finally cracks into something resembling a cry. You feel it in your throat the moment it starts to break through and instantly feel the sting of tears welling behind your eyes. Perfect, you think. That’s just what your eyeliner needs.

You hated feeling like you were about to step into one of those horrible rom-com scenarios where two best friends, after years of denying their feelings for one another (or being completely oblivious to them), realize they’ve been madly in love all along. More than likely at the most inopportune moment possible—like right before one of them is about to get married. 

Because it had to really suck being the partner of one of those dumbasses.

And, yeah, maybe you and Eddie weren’t getting married. Although, he had been bringing it up more often and you were almost certain one of your rings had gone missing for a good day and a half before reappearing in your jewelry tray on the dresser. Still, this was probably as bad a time as any for him to discover he was secretly in love with his best friend.

“Did you ever think about dating her?” you ask. “Like were you ever out at a bar or stayed up late after a party talking and just thought to yourself maybe, someday…”

Maybe, someday was the clarion cry of these horrid arrangements. If you had a someday person, you were basically earmarking them in your mind for later and it was only a matter of time before the two of you got together. Someday was this magical time that could be years and years from now or it could be fucking tomorrow. And if it was tomorrow, that made you the one the someday person trounces over on their way to true love. It was going to be your heart that wound up shattered and no one watching in the movie theater would even care.

Eddie starts to sway gently, rocking you with him as he mulls over his answer.

“Honestly? I had, like, a glimmer of a crush on her in high-school, but I barely knew her then. And the more we hung out…it just wasn’t something to pursue.”

“Why not? What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” he says. “We were better as friends.”

Your face sinks into a pout and you make no attempt whatsoever to disguise it. You can’t put your finger on exactly why, but you feel like there has to be more to this story. She’s pretty and thin, funny and exciting, glamorous and worldly, and Eddie just magically never had feelings for her? Never considered her romantically in the slightest? It doesn’t add up.

“It’s not like that, I swear,” Eddie says when he sees you sulking, arms wrapping tighter around you, trying to reassure you with his touch.

Normally, it helps. But not tonight.

“I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me,” you admit with another sigh.

His eyes are waiting for yours in the mirror. A pair of deep brown pools as warm and comforting as a freshly poured cup of coffee stare back at you, but fail to have their typically calming effect.

Against your back, you feel Eddie’s chest rise and fall as he takes a steadying breath.

“Well, there kind of is,” he says. “But I swear it’s got nothing to do with that. It’s just not mine to tell. I don’t know if Chrissy wants you to know or if she wants to tell you herself.”

It’s not the worst thing he could have said, but it’s also not, not the worst thing. You groan and bury your face in your hands.

“Maybe I shouldn't go,” you grumble into your palms. 

Staying home suddenly feels like the only solution. Leaving them alone might only hasten the inevitable. But if they were gonna fall in love, you shouldn’t have to sit around to watch.

“No,” Eddie whines, tugging insistently on your wrists to pull your hands from your face. “Don’t say that. Please come? I’m really excited for you two to meet.”

“I’m only gonna be in the way,” you sniffle, unable to look at him. “You guys will be reminiscing all night and I’ll just sit there like a mute idiot.”

Third wheel to your own boyfriend.

His jaw ticks and he clenches it in that way he always does when you talk down about yourself. He doesn’t have time right now to go into just how wrong you are. And he can tell you won’t be receptive to it in your current state. He’ll take care of it later, when he has you pinned beneath him, driving his body into yours, making you gasp and pant and plead until you’ll say whatever he asks—including admitting how fucking perfect you are.

“I want you to meet her because I think you’ll get along.” His breath ghosts across the nape of your neck as he presses his lips to your skin. “Because she’s great…and you’re really great…and I think you’d be great together.”

At last, you swallow the tears rising in your throat and nod. You lift your head and find his pretty doe eyes in the mirror again. Eyes that love you. Eyes that would never compare you to someone else.

Eyes that are only for you.

You and Eddie walk into The Hideout, your hand held firmly in his. The bouncer and bartender nod at you both in acknowledgment, too inundated with customers for a longer interaction. They knew Eddie well from the many years his band had spent here playing to nearly empty rooms, as well as when he started working as a barback on the weekends to earn some extra cash. And they know you from the number of “dates” you’d spent visiting him during a shift.

Chrissy spots you immediately and throws her hand up in the air, wiggling her fingers excitedly. Her strawberry blonde hair was swept up in a ponytail, soft curls bouncing with her every move. She’s in cream-colored trousers cuffed at the ankles with a wide black belt holding them up so they sit high on her tiny waist. Her top is a sleeveless black turtleneck, cropped to reveal a little sliver of her abdomen. It’s one of those cool-girl outfits that’s so effortlessly trendy and chic it instantly makes you feel overly plain and unassuming in your sundress.

Jesus. Did she have to be that pretty?

She was cute as a goddamn button with big, round eyes and full, cherubic cheeks that only grew as she flashed a smile with enough wattage to power the whole bar. Maybe the entire town. Like in her picture in Eddie’s yearbook, one of her front teeth was a little crooked. Yet somehow it only made her smile, and her by extension, all the more charming.

Every pair of eyes in the room is watching as she scoots out of her seat in the corner booth. With a wide grin, she stretches up on her tiptoes to throw her arms around Eddie’s neck as you and he approach the table she’s secured. He slides his free arm around her waist, wrapping her up in a tight squeeze, but keeps your hand in his the entire time. You can’t say it’s not a relief, having already loosened your grip in anticipation of him dropping it as he went to hug Chrissy.

Only when he steps back from between you does he let it go, placing his palm on your shoulder as he gives Chrissy your name. She beams at you, eyes sparkling even in the dim light of the dive bar. You feel your cheeks pinch and your teeth clench as you force a smile.

“Hi! It’s so nice to finally meet you!” She reaches out to take your hands in hers and gives them a gentle squeeze. Of course her skin is as soft as velvet. “Gosh, you’re even prettier in person.”

A waft of her perfume hits you, fresh citrus swirling in your nose, and you falter slightly at her words. In person? In person as opposed to what? Your social media was private, as was hers, and neither of you had yet to extend a friend request or so much as a DM.  You only knew her face from Eddie’s yearbook. How did she know yours?

“You need a drink, yeah?” she asks. “I’ll get the first round, my tab is already open.”

Eddie’s hand rubs across the small of your back in a soothing circle. “I’ll get you something,” he says to you softly. “You guys sit.”

Chrissy grins and ushers you into the booth as Eddie heads for the bar. You slide into the center and nod at the pink cocktail garnished with an orange curl that sits in front of her.

“What are you having?”

“A cosmopolitan,” she says. “Not normally my first choice, but Benny makes them so well I always order one when I’m here. He loves to bitch about it, but I know they’re only as good as they are because he drinks them himself.”

She smirks at the bar where the massive, burly bartender is talking animatedly with Eddie as he pours drinks. You can’t help but giggle imagining him sipping Chrissy’s bright pink cocktail.

“I’ve never tried one,” you say. “Is it good?”

“Have some,” she chirps. “Just know it’ll ruin you for all other cosmos.”

Dainty fingers adorned with thin gold rings push the glass towards you and you bring it to your lips for a taste. There’s a little smear of her lip gloss on the rim and the peachy flavor of it mixes with the taste of the drink in your mouth. You let out a little hum of approval as it splashes on your tongue, a perfect balance of sweet and sour.

“Wow, that is good,” you say. “I never would have pegged that as Benny’s drink.”

Chrissy smiles knowingly. Most of the Hideout’s bartenders looked like they shower in scotch and use bourbon as body wash. She leans in close and lowers her voice to a conspiring whisper. 

“He’ll never admit this…but he’s a huge Sex and the City fan. I came in once to pick up a jacket I'd left, and he had it playing on the TV.”

Your eyes go wide at the revelation and you shoot an appraising glance towards the bar. “I feel like he’s a Samantha,” you say with an impish smile.

“Oh, definitely!” Chrissy laughs and then nods in the direction of the bouncer. He’s smaller than Benny, but still woefully intimidating, especially as he’s frowning and turning away a couple of kids with fake IDs at the door. “And Luke acts like a Miranda, but he’s a total Charlotte.”

You both giggle at that and your shoulders brush as you lean together. The warmth of her skin on yours surprises you, but not nearly as much as when she reaches out her hand and lays it gently on your wrist. Her eyes land on your face and you feel your breathing stall as you stare back into them. Deep blue-green like the ocean, framed by her long lashes and accentuated by the pale wash of shadow she’s swept across her lids.

“Your eyes are so pretty,” she says softly. “I can never get wings to match that well.”

“Thanks,” you breathe out, heat rising in your cheeks. “I really like your eyeshadow.”

“Aww, you’re adorable.” Chrissy smiles and her lashes flutter, showing off more of the shimmery powder blue there. “Eddie was right, you’re such a sweetheart.”

Her words ignite a little flicker of excitement that trickles down the back of your neck. You shift slightly in your seat and look down at your lap, hoping she can’t see how it affects you. You tell yourself it’s not her, just her use of your favorite pet name Eddie uses for you. Very different.

The more you talk with Chrissy, the harder it becomes to keep up the animosity you’d been stewing in the past few weeks. She’s just so…nice. In the time it takes for Eddie to get drinks from the crowded bar, you two have already brought out your phones and started cooing over pictures of the other’s cats. She’s in the middle of a story about her fat gray tabby Templeton when Eddie returns carrying his pint of amber colored beer and a rum and ginger for you.

He places your drink down on the table first, but passes his own glass into your waiting hand. You sip his beer and he chuckles at the sour face you make before sliding into the booth next to you and tucking you securely under his arm. 

“Not poisoned,” you tell him, still grimacing. “Just disgusting.”

It’s an old bit, one that goes back almost to your first date. You weren’t a big beer person, but you still liked taking little tastes of the ones ordered by friends on the off chance of finding one you did like. Eddie had then offered you a sip of his and basically beamed at the adorable way your face scrunched at the taste you considered vile. He suggested in a past life you were probably one of those servants who had to sample a king’s wine before he drank.

You had laughed and rolled your eyes, but leaned hard into the joke from then on.

“My liege, no!” you’d exclaim anywhere—at dinner, a bar, one of Steve’s keggers that was masquerading as a barbeque—hand dramatically outstretched, eyes bulging with fear as he paused raising his glass to his lips before descending into a throaty chuckle. It didn’t take long before he got in the habit of handing over his drink without even thinking about it.

Eddie slots easily into the conversation with you and Chrissy. All three of you chatter back and forth about Chrissy’s work, Eddie’s music, your impending thesis. You feel all that apprehension you’d been building up finally retreating and let yourself relax a little. 

And if Chrissy is harboring some ulterior feelings for your boyfriend, she’s either terrible at showing them or incredible at hiding them. She listens raptly to boring stories about all your upgrades to Eddie’s house since moving in, and earnestly asks about your relationship.

“Okay, so you have to tell me everything. How did you guys meet?”

Chrissy sits forward in her seat and sets her elbows on the table, folding her delicate fingers together and resting her chin on them as she looks back and forth between you and Eddie with those sparkling eyes. They’re bright with interest like she literally can’t wait to hear what you’re about to say. If she’s only acting, she’s incredibly gifted. Truly Oscar-winning caliber.

“Oh, jeez,” Eddie groans and covers his face with his hand as he starts to tinge pink. He peeks out at you from between his ringed fingers and a bashful smile curls up the corners of his lips, showing his teeth. “Do we have to?” he asks. “It’s not exactly Romeo & Juliet.”

You nod back at him, flashing a mischievous smile of your own as you sip your drink. Eddie’s hand drops to the table and he sighs, playing up the dramatics you assume for Chrissy’s benefit. She’s eating it up, practically wriggling in her seat like a little puppy waiting for a treat.

“We were…at a strip club,” he says.

“Oh, of course you were!” Chrissy snickers and her eyes dart to you. “Here I was thinking you’re such a good girl and you're secretly a little vixen.”

You shiver instantly and look down at your lap again trying to hide your reaction. Her eyes flit across your body and that familiar little thrill runs up your spine, stirring something inside of you that makes you tingle all over. You let yourself imagine, if only for a moment, maybe you are the little vixen she’s imagining. Ridiculous a thought as that may be, it makes you feel extra bold.

“Hardly,” you laugh. “I was in town for my sister’s wedding. I’d been here like a week already and I was staying with her through to the ceremony to help coordinate and stuff. We went to the club for her bachelorette party, but I was essentially their chaperone. Or maybe more like a wrangler for all her friends? It was like herding cats. Except the cats were drunk. Drunk and in heels.”

The most boring possible reason to be at a strip club? Check. Chrissy doesn’t seem to judge, though. If anything, she tilts her head a bit and smiles like she’s endeared by you even though you completely failed to live up to that visage of a bad girl she thought you might be.

Still, it was fun to pretend it might be true for a second.

“And what were you doing there, Mr. Munson?” she asks, arching her brow at him. “Gathering material for your spank bank?”

“It was for Steve’s bachelor party,” Eddie says pointedly. “It was basically mandatory according to all his finance bros. I wanted to play laser tag, but I had to appease the dark side.”

“Right, because you would never deign to set foot in the Lusty Leopard otherwise,” you say with a teasing smile. Chrissy’s eyes glint as they meet yours and she jumps in seamlessly.

“Yeah, Eddie, we know how much you despise looking at butts and boobs on pretty girls,” she says, giving you a little nudge with her elbow.

“I had to look into getting mine replaced! He can hardly stand the sight of them!”

You feel a bit giddy as you and Chrissy toy with your boyfriend, exchanging your wry smiles and sharing in bubbly laughter. It’s almost like being drunk, even though you’ve only had half of your drink. It sits neglected in front of you and most of the ice has melted, watering down what was left.

Eddie lets you have your fun, but his hand finds your knee under the table and he gives it a firm squeeze. Not mad, just a signal to look at him. His eyes flash when you meet his gaze and his mouth curls into a cool, confident smile that tells you in no uncertain terms he’ll remind you of this later. Another little thrill runs through you and makes you quiver with excitement.

“Anyway,” he continues. “I thought we won the lottery or something. Not only were there gonna be strippers, but there was a whole party full of girls too? We were stoked.”

His eyes flick to yours again. This is where you come in.

“Except someone failed to check their website and see that it was Ladies Night…and an all-male revue. Which is what we were there for.”

“Oh no!” Chrissy exclaims, covering her mouth with her hand, unable to hold back her laughter.

“I have a photo of Steve getting a face full of banana hammock that is pristine.” Eddie cackles and does a little chef’s kiss as you go on.

“So our two parties kind of merge and Eddie pretty much throws himself at me—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, that is slander, sweetheart,” Eddie interjects. “I was valiantly keeping you occupied to spare you Steve’s antics.”

“Uh-oh, what was Steve doing?” Chrissy asks.

“He was wasted, trying to convince the girls at the party to strip once the guys were done.”

“Yeah,” you scoff. “In the name of justice and equality.”

“Oh, Steve,” Chrissy let out a gentle sigh, shaking her head at their mutual friend’s foolishness.

“Exactly,” you say. “Anyway, we wound up playing Truth or Dare and Eddie dared me to do an Irish Car Bomb with him. And whoever finished last, their group had to perform on stage.”

“So, who won?”

Chrissy’s eyes flit between you and Eddie as the two of you share a coy glance. After letting suspense build for a few seconds, Eddie sighs and tips an imaginary hat to you as you smile proudly. Chrissy beams back at you, her hand shooting up for a high-five..

“I knew it!” she says. “Nice one!”

You grin as your palms meet, heart fluttering in your chest. You think back to that night and how your adrenaline had spiked and coursed through you, making your fingers tremble as you held the shot of Bailey’s and Jameson over the pint of Guinness while Eddie stared you down across the rims of the glasses. It was the first time his gaze had completely stilled your breathing and it was strikingly similar to the feeling you got when Chrissy’s eyes had roved over you tonight.

“So, wait, did they actually strip?” she asks. “Please tell me you have a video!”

“I wish!” you laugh and shake your head. “They wouldn’t let anyone on stage. But Eddie did a very tasteful lap dance to I Want it That Way and I was powerless. He asked for my number after and I just had to give it to him.”

“That’s adorable,” Chrissy says, looking at you both all wistful and moony like she was reading some harlequin romance novel.

Eddie looks down, a happy and bashful smile tugging up the corners of his mouth and making his deep dimples appear in his cheeks. His hand rested on the leather booth between you and he slowly slides it over, linking his pinky with yours. You can practically hear what he’s dying to whisper in your ear right now.

Best night ever.

“Gosh, Truth or Dare really takes me back,” Chrissy sighs as she starts to sit back and then jolts forward. “Oh, my god! Is that what we were playing that first time we…you know? Or, wait, it was Never Have I Ever?”

In an instant, your spine went stiff. You withdrew your hand from Eddie’s, the loss of the heat from his pinky leaving a cold ring around your own, and stared cautiously at Chrissy.

“Um…the first time you, what?”

“You know,” Chrissy says, bouncing her brows suggestively. “Our thing.”

“Wh-what thing? What does that mean?”

All the airiness you’d felt just seconds ago has been vacuumed straight out of your chest. You look over at Eddie with wide eyes and find his face is panged with regret.

Chrissy glances at him warily. 

“You didn’t tell her?” she asks.  Oh no…

“No, not exactly,” he says. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted her to know about…you know…”

Jesus fucking Christ if someone doesn’t finish an actual sentence I’m gonna scream.

“Oh my god, Eddie! Look how panicked she is!”

Chrissy scoots closer to you, placing a gentle hand on your back and rubbing it in small circles. It’s almost calming right up until the moment you imagine her fucking your boyfriend, or blowing him, or jerking him off, or a million other things that apparently didn’t qualify as “dating.” 

“I’m so sorry we upset you, babe,” she says. “I swear, I figured you knew. It’s not a secret, it just might sound a little scandalous.”

You swallow hard, throat clenching, trying to bring some relief to your mouth that has gone impossibly dry. Reaching for your drink, hoping neither of them can see how your hand trembles as you do, you take a long gulp and place the glass back down a touch too hard.

“Can one of you please just tell me what you’re talking about?”

“Of course, of course,” Chrissy says. “We had a, um…” Her eyes sweep to Eddie. “What would you call it? An arrangement?”

Eddie shrugs as he takes a nervous swig of his beer. “An alliance?”

Chrissy’s head bobs, ponytail swinging back and forth, not entirely satisfied with that either.

“Well, whatever you call it…we were sharing girls.”

Of all the things you expected to come out of Chrissy’s mouth, that didn’t even make the list. You can feel your mouth parting in confusion, brows marrying together as your face furrows. 

“Wh…what does that mean, exactly?”

“We would hook up with girls together,” Chrissy explains. “He and I never did anything, but if we found a girl we both liked, we’d take her home.”

Your brain scrambles, trying to make sense of what you’re hearing.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t get it. How…how, um, did that work exactly? Why would you…”

“Did you tell her anything about me?” Chrissy demands, her gaze whirling onto Eddie.

“I didn’t know if you wanted it broadcasted,” he says, voice hushed as he glances around.

Chrissy shakes her head, a long-suffering kind of motion like he was her little brother who had left the toilet seat up. Her attention turns back to you and she lowers her voice seriously.

“In that case, I’ve been holding this in long enough and it’s high time you knew the truth.” She reaches out to take your hands in hers and arranges her face in the most solemn expression possible. “My name is Chrissy Cunningham…and I fucking love pussy.”

Part Two

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff

[catboygretzky]

Exyblr Dashboard Simulator based on what I personally see on sportsblr:

2/?

📜 realexyblog

haiku because exy is back:

GOD, why are my teams

SO fucking bad at exy?

FUCK this FUCKING sport.

#and i watch sports for why? entertainment? no way

243 notes

♛ queen-of-exy

I WAS RIGHT ALL ALONG! KEVIN DAY IS A QUEEN SHES LITERALLY A QUEEN ITS ON HER FACE

💃fox-me-up follow

queen on the court, pillow princess on the mattress amiright

♛ queen-of-exy

ive never felt more understood, I am kissing you w tongue

#marry me tumblr user fox me up

411 notes

🌞 blonde-jeremy-knox

i'm just gonna say it. i know we're all thinking it. jeremy knox eats ass like it's his JOB.

👁 jean-mor-uhoh

babe literally no one was thinking that but i'm proud of you for speaking your truth

#we're friends but what cost. when all u talk about is jeremy knox eating ass.

31 notes

🧚 goalie-stan

#dan wilds #psu

205 notes

🌄 softkevinday follow

He lived. He served cunt. He died. He was Resurrected. Served more cunt.

#kevin day

605 notes

👸🏻 kevindazed follow

absolutely busted a fucking nut watching kevin day switch hands like that oh my god my nut was so forceful it created a new dimension.

🏳️‍🌈 gay4stickball follow

hey can i join you in that dimension

👸🏻 kevindazed follow

Sure, just bring some snacks or something

🏳️‍🌈 gay4stickball follow

hell yeah!!!!!!

#thanks youre the best do you like doritos?

197 notes

😎 foxyknoxy

the best exy team in the nation is a LIBERAL ARTS COLLEGE how many of those students even go to the games when your school is full of artists and theater kids. your student section must be wACK

😎 foxyknoxy

*sorry, 2nd best exy team in the nation

#fuck you theater kids!!!!!!!! can't even appreciate a good sport !!!!! anyway go trojans

99 notes

🙈 ittybittyminny follow

Andrew Minyard should get a little bite and chew. As a reward. Maybe a small gnaw. nomnomnom Maaaaaybe as a treat he can rip a throat out, but only if he's really really good

#only if he's REALLY GOOD and maybe tests negative for rabies but whatever you can't win em all

126 notes

🏳️‍🌈 gay4stickball follow

favourite exy rarepair????

☀️ usctrojanny

ACTUALLY !!!!! was thinking about this earlier and while ive never seen anyone talk about it.......aaron minyard and neil josten would be 👀 kinda cute???

🏳️‍🌈 gay4stickball follow

omg wait why have I never thought about guys before!!!!!!!! noooo why did you say this, i can totally see it!!!!!! Neil would probably have to lean down to kiss aaron 🥺 do u think he has ever had to lean down to kiss someone 😭

☀️ usctrojanny

And obviously, u know me, im always here for a striker/backliner matchup

🏳️‍🌈 gay4stickball follow

this is all i'm going to think about for the rest of my life now, thanks, fuck you

139 notes

👅 nastyneiljosten

I want to put neil josten in a jar and shake the jar so violently he turns into sludge and then pour a drop of that sludge on to a petri dish so I can see what kind of bacteria he produces.

🦩 exyonmymind follow

what happens to the rest of the sludge?

👅 nastyneiljosten

*sluuuuuuurp* *swallowing sounds* *sluuuurp* *gargle gargle* *more swallowing sounds* yummy yummy in my tummy

487 notes

🐋 sexyexy

headcannon that neil josten is so feral bc andrew bit him and gave him rabies so now he's a literal rabid dog

👢exyinaphonebooth follow

You can't make headcannons about real people don't be freaks

🐋 sexyexy

exy players aren't real they're my little dolls that I can put into any situations I want and you can't stop me

#thanks anyway did u know andrew minyard gave neil josten rabies

143 notes

🧸 mreow-bearcats-mreow

ARE THOSE REFS FUCKING BLIND ????????!

#exy lb

👨🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻 talk-exy-to-me

Kiss cams are only acceptable during sporting events if they zoom in on two players

🗣️ jeremyknoxes follow

ok but what if they're wearing a face mask

👨🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻 talk-exy-to-me

smash your cages together obviously, don't be a pussy #love wins

🗣️ jeremyknoxes follow

fair enough

890 notes

🌸 softexy

Andrew and Aaron Minyard

#exy #andrew minyard #aaron minyard #palmetto foxes #psu #web weave #poetry

2,040 notes

#all for the game #neil josten #kevin day #andrew minyard #aaron minyard #aftg #andreil #dan wilds #jeremy knox #once again the web weave is the most accurate part of this post #👍 #exyblr

[morewittepain]

some thoughts i had while thinking about college and inevitably connecting it back to my fixations as i always do:

random tbosas college au hcs!!

lucy gray would beg whichever poor soul got forced to be her roommate to push their mattresses together to make a mega bed, but she gets so cozy the first night that she sleeps through all seven of her alarms and misses like three classes.

livia, arachne, and clemensia are all insufferable sorority girls. except arachne and clemensia are super serious about it and livia is only in it for the booze and the lols. she made one joke day 1 of freshman year about being a sorority girl and ended up committing to the bit a little too hard, and now she's too far in to back out.

there's one bar off campus that all the daddy's money students (the academy mentors) started going to to escape from the weird liberal arts kids (the tributes) until one day lucy gray ends up scoring a job playing at said bar and now everyone is significantly bummed out when anyone mentions the place.

riding off of that, we all know that lucy gray is a theatre kid, but she's the most insufferable brand. she runs through the halls singing show tunes, she tries to start flash mobs in the dining hall, and if you mention it once she will not shut up about the theatre club's latest improv show. they did wicked once and she showed up to classes in full green makeup every day throughout the entirety of tech week.

not only is she the theatre kid, she's just the weird kid in general. she shows up to every 8 am class in the most insanely tacky diy outfits. more often than not, she repurposes whatever costume pieces the theatre department was throwing out. it's all craft store gemstones, hot glue, and a metric ton of puffy paint. she's also constantly conjuring flowers out of thin air it seems and passing them out as flower crowns to whoever is within a ten mile radius. mid final she just slowly passes you a whole heap of daisies weaved together and you're left like "??????"

she sets her eyes on someone and either becomes their best friend or worst nightmare.

coryo walking through the front door covered in glitter with a **very** homemade rainbow scarf forcefully tied around his neck and a flower behind his ear: TIGRIS THE WEIRD KID GOT ME ON THE WALK HOME AGAIN AND I COULDN'T OUTRUN HER

sejanus and coryo would dorm together for a total of two months before coryo decides that if he doesn't move off campus he will literally kill himself so he ends up back with tigris and commutes. he's a coward (sejanus snores).

oh god wait no is he a frat boy? i hate that image in my head. GET IT OUT!!

mizzen is significantly younger than everyone else, like 14 or something, and hangs out on campus with coral (bc in my head they're cousins or smthn) and it is quite literally the "uhhhh want a beer?" "HE'S FOUR!!" meme. nobody knows what to do with him. he's just sitting there with an ipad and a yoohoo living his best life until coral makes him do his homework.

coryo fails a situationship twice a week and everyone clowns on him constantly for never being able to get out of the talking stage. one day he's showing up to lucy gray's shows and the next he's ducking behind cars in the parking lot so she doesn't see him. one day he's making out with livia at a party and the next he's crying on the floor while clemensia pats him on the back because nobody loves him. one day he's genuinely hooking up with sejanus and the next he's pretending he was drunk so he can act like he doesn't remember. boo you whore!!! men will do anything BUT therapy.

sejanus is that one kid whose mom is always on campus for some reason and just chilling in their dorm. they're knitting sweaters and watching friends, leave them alone!!

clemensia would be the ra that everyone hates because she would absolutely snitch on your ass to look good, meanwhile lamina is the ra that everyone loves because she's just in it for the free room and is too tired to hunt anyone down for breaking the rules. work smarter, not harder.

reaper is also a weird kid, but in the mysterious artist who just glares at people from across the dining hall and sketches angrily kinda way. he and lucy gray are besties because i said so. he's teaching her how to paint in exchange for guitar lessons, except she can only finger paint and he's left handed and can hardly play her guitar comfortably.

treech and lamina were that one couple that picked the same college during their honeymoon phase in high school and travelled together except it absolutely ruined their relationship and now they hate each other. if you're a girl's girl, though, you take lamina's side because she does no wrong (totally not because she lets you sneak pot into the dorm as long as she "can't see it" so she doesn't have to do a whole night's worth of paperwork).

coral and lucy gray have been dating for half of a semester but pretend to hate each other when they're in public simply for the bit. they're faking petty cat fights, they're glaring at each other in the hallways, but really they're smoochin behind the scenes. they just think they're funny.

it's 5 am and i need to SLEEP but please drop any other headcanons you have about this batshit au because I would love to see them. i'm sure this will make no sense when i reread it in the morning, but trust that i will revisit this subject because them just being normal teenagers is always so funny to me.

#the hunger games #thg #tbosas #tbosas headcanon #thg headcanons #coriolanus snow #lucy gray baird #sejanus plinth #arachne crane #clemensia dovecote #livia cardew #reaper ash #coral tbosas #mizzen tbosas #lamina tbosas #treech tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

[formosusiniquis]

Am I the Asshole?

Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington; Robin Buckley/Original Female Character(s); Steve Harrington/Original Character(s); Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson WC: 6052 | Rated: T | Tags: Modern AU, Reddit AU, Some AITA typical terrible people, QPR Steve & Robin, NB Steve, NB Robin AKA the Stobin AITA fic

r/AmITheAssshole u/HufflepuffHero94 9yrs ago AITA for being concerned about my girlfriends living situation?

Context: My (20F) girlfriend (18F) is amazing. She's a polyglot linguistics major, speaks three languages fluently and she's completely self-taught, a genius basically. We go to the same college (Midwestern Liberal Arts college) where we met in the marching band. Now R, my girlfriend, is from a small town. Like the kind of small town that they make jokes about in sitcoms, she isn't really online (so I'm not worried about her seeing this) because she claims they didn't even have the internet until she was in high school. She isn’t really “out” because of this. It’s like she lives in this semi-closeted space like some kind of TV queerbait character. It's not really a problem, I mean she’ll tell people we’re dating if they ask and all of our marching band friends know but when I ask about it she says it’s because it wasn’t really safe in her hometown growing up. But it’s 2014 not 1980…

Even though R is a freshman she’s in special accommodations. Instead of living in the dorms like the school usually requires she’s got a small, studio apartment just off of campus. A perk considering how awful living in the dorms is. R is a pretty private person and super studious. Most of our dates have been in the library or a study date at the coffee place on campus. She’s not big on PDA, she says she’s trying to get better at it but she’s still only sort of out and I’m her first real girlfriend. I was psyched when she asked me if I wanted to go with her to her apartment to study, said her best friend had a never fail study method that she was eager to try (and when she told me what it was I was pretty eager too).

R can’t drive, so when I pull into the parking lot of her complex she notices something and says her roommate hasn’t left for work yet. I’m a little confused because like I said she lives in a studio apartment, but she just brushes it off and says something about asshole parents and this being what they could afford when some money fell through. She’s sent me snaps from her place, so I know it’s pretty cozy so I tell her it’s fine. Obviously I’m concerned about what the set up is going to be like when we get up there but she insists that dingus (her words) will only be there for another couple minutes before they have to leave for work and that Stevie (again her words) is her best friend in the world. They moved here together from the same small town or something.

To give R credit, she’s definitely done the best she can with the space. When I walked it it definitely felt as homey as it does in her pictures. The door opened up into the kitchen and living room and she’s got those spaces divided off from the beds with one of those Chinese paper divider thingies. Anyway to make a long story short it turns out her roommate and best friend Stevie is actually a whole dude (19). He comes out, gives her a look and asks her if “us girls are planning a sleepover” and if he should make himself scarce for the evening. R says she doesn’t give him shit when his “special friends” come over and after that I kinda stopped listening. I slipped off into the apartment looking for the bathroom and that’s when I saw how their “bedroom” was set up. Twin beds INCHES apart, they might as well be sharing the same one.

Here’s where I might be the asshole. When her “friend” finally cleared out I told her the truth. I didn’t know how comfortable I was hanging out in her place where she lives with a guy. I do live in the dorms but I’ve got a single right now. I asked her to move in with me so she wouldn’t have to be in this situation. I guess it maybe sounded like I was dissing her friend, which I was but I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. I just think it’s weird that she won’t come out to anyone and is also living with some guy! I told her I wasn’t interested in being an experiment and if things were serious then she would want to move in with me.

That’s when she kicked me out and called me an asshole. But really I don’t think I’m being a dick for being concerned that she might just be jerking me along while she plays lesbian so she can tell her boyfriend about it at home. Even if nothing is going on I'm just worried that living in this kind of environment isn't safe for her. I mean this guy is probably just pretending to be her friend to get in her pants, I think the fact that they're from the same small town means she can't see that. I really think she would be better off if she moved into the dorms with me aita?

u/otpsnotbrotps NTA

u/foreplayisntreal NTA guys and girls can't be friends. If she even is a lez and a katy perry wannabe then roomie is just biding his time til she's ready to be converted

Read the rest on AO3

#stobin month 2024 #day 10 modern #steve and robin #platonic stobin #it's still day 10 somewhere shhh i know it's late #minor steddie #steve harrington #robin buckley #my fic #stobin fic #stranger things fic

[talesofadragon]

𝐕𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬

Synopsis: The world was not created in colors to be lived seldom in white, black, or even gray. This is what Y/N believed, and she resolutely refuses to be told otherwise. But when a night at the city’s most prestigious nightclub triggers a series of misfortunate events, Y/N’s world of hues is thrown off balance, colliding with a stranger whose eyes may be blue but his world is a handful of shades too dark.  

Pairing: Mob Boss!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Mature scenes. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 3.3K

Chapter 2 - Morally Gray | Varicolored Schemes Masterlist

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐑𝐊 𝐖𝐀𝐒 god’s hell on earth. 

Back in college, Y/N had to take a mandatory liberal arts elective. And up to this day, she still doesn’t understand why it’s called that when she didn’t elect to take it. Her professor at the time had the stupendous idea to focus on Renaissance drama as if this was the single most enthralling subject for a bunch of twenty-year-olds. 

While her memory retained nothing besides the fact that most of William Shakespeare's characters were speculated to be queer and The Spanish Tragedy seldom had an interesting plotline, she now recalled one particular quote she didn't know she remembered: "Hell's empty and all the devils are here."

Oh, William. Something true did come out of his mouth. 

"You look like someone murdered your cat," Yelena remarked as soon as Y/N stepped into her line of sight. The closer Y/N got to Yelena, the more prominent the scowl on the blonde’s face became.

Y/N glared at her best friend, throwing her bag harshly onto the coffee table, followed by her drenched notebook and coffee tumbler. Yelena's green eyes fixated on the chaotic mess, only momentarily straying when Y/N completed the picture with a heavy thud as she unceremoniously took a seat.

“Coffee,” she managed to let out. Yelena extended one of the cups to her side, but Y/N swatted it away in favor of the taller one. “You take the small one. I’m in urgent need of a pick-me-up.” 

Yelena arched her brow, pointing at the cup inches away from Y/N’s lips. “It’s a Nitro Cold Brew.” 

“Don’t care.” 

“You’ve never ordered it before.”

Y/N shrugged, taking her first sip. “I’m open to trying new things.” 

“Do you know how many shots of espresso are in there?” Yelena’s tone was borderline incredulous. Y/N didn’t care.

“Maybe I need the kick.” 

“It’s espresso, Y/N,” Yelena grumbled. She glanced at the discarded pumpkin-spice latte she had grabbed for her best friend, her nose scrunching in disgust at the thought of having to drink it herself. “It’s not tequila.” 

A loud huff reverberated across the back of the coffee shop they were sitting in. It was ludicrous of Y/N to think that her day would get any better with a cup of coffee when that horrendous drink made her want to empty her stomach. 

Begrudgingly, she slid the drink back to Yelena and snatched her own. “I’ve had a terrible day.” 

“You don’t say.” 

“Scratch that. A terrible week. And a half!” 

“What happened this time?” Yelena carefully asked. 

Inadvertently, Y/N’s brain decided it was more than adequate to remind her about the tragedies of the past week and a half. At first, it started alright. Great even. She didn't drink much when she went to Purgatory, so she woke up the next day without a single tingle in her head. Her day went about alright, and she even told Yelena—albeit briefly, given the hangover her best friend sported—about her interaction with Steve. 

That day was pretty uneventful, and so was the next one. But then, it was as though the floodgates of hell had opened, and Lucifer had prophesied her as the Chosen One, destined to endure the ultimate suffering.

Between a car splashing her with mud and having her get to her meeting looking and smelling like Ron Weasley’s great aunt Tessie, someone leaving a dent on her precious car, and a teenager in a Spider-Man mask trying to rob her only to throw her back her money and take her favorite purse... let’s just say she didn’t want to take a trek down that particular memory lane. 

“An old woman stole my umbrella.” 

And as if her being drenched from head to toe didn’t suffice, Yelena had to spit her espresso-loaded coffee directly on her juniper green shirt. Thank God she wasn’t wearing white this time. 

“I’m sorry, птичка,” Yelena enunciated in between chuckles. “I thought you said an old woman, who is supposed to be much less nimble than yourself, stole your umbrella.” 

“Laugh all you want, Yelena. But that woman was like a fucking torpedo when I told her I could only help her cross the street because the coffee shop was on the opposite side of wherever she had to go!” 

“Savage,” Yelena commented. Suddenly, and in a very uncharacteristic manner, she turned quiet. As Y/N sipped on her coffee, her eyes flicked up to catch her best friend’s pensive expression. She was tapping her fingers against the plastic coffee cup with her gaze idle on the rain. 

“What’s wrong?” 

There was silence at first, followed by a loud exhale. Then, after ten more seconds, Yelena placed her elbows on the table, shifting her body forward. “I have to tell you something.” 

“Oh no!” Y/N vigorously shook her head. “Don’t make my week even worse. Please.” 

Yelena's eyes held a rare empathy, a sight that Y/N seldom witnessed. It was evident that the forthcoming words were about to unveil something dreadful. Y/N just knew it. 

“Baron Zemo, the Sokovian investor I told you about, called me today. He wants to talk about the Red Room.” 

Y/N blinked twice. The despair she felt evaporated, replaced by a much more joyful sensation. "That's amazing!" she exclaimed, fully aware of the immense effort her best friend had put into creating the Red Room—a local dance studio that nurtured young girls' passion for dance.

But Yelena didn't seem too enthusiastic about the prospect. Her mouth twitched, transitioning from a scowl to a thin line. "He wants us to meet in person. The day after tomorrow," she revealed. She grabbed her coffee cup and took a rather long sip of her coffee—as if it served as her liquid courage. "He's in Romania."

“Romania!” Y/N hollered. Screw joy. She was confused as hell. Because while she wasn’t the most prodigious student in the world, nor did she have a modicum of aptitude in Geography, she did know that Romania was thousands of miles away. “Why didn’t you let me know before? And do not even attempt to tell me you didn’t have these plans before, and you just had them now!” 

Yelena winced. “You’re still hung up on that?”

“Yes!”

“I’m sorry, okay. My team has been in contact with him for months, and we’ve heard nothing. He called this morning and said he’d like to discuss the business along with expansion prospects. But he has an opening in three days or in seven months. That guy is an important investor. I couldn’t pass up on this opportunity.” 

Well, when you put it that way, Y/N thought. As much as she wanted to yell and hurl her pumpkin-spice latte at the wall, she couldn’t help but be happy for Yelena. Yes, bad news were pelting her mercilessly, but that wasn’t the case for her best friend. 

“At what time is your flight?” she asked in a steady voice. 

Yelena smiled appreciatively. “Midnight.” 

“I’ll drive you.” She rushed out of her seat, engulfing Yelena in a warm embrace. They held each other for a few seconds, but the touching moment soon melted when Y/N shifted to the right and felt something hit the floor with a thud. “Please tell me it’s not your drink.” 

“It’s not.” Y/N’s shoulders eased. “It’s yours.” 

A bad week and a half, she repeated in her head. 

Luckily, Lucifer had decided to move on to the next unfortunate soul, leaving Y/N with two mundane days. Apart from her supervisor, Maria, grilling her about delivering the latest interior design schemes for the Odinson project, nothing exciting happened.

On the second day, Y/N drove Yelena to the airport and only departed after receiving a promise of a nice gift. She had dropped her off at nine in the evening and made it home around an hour later. 

Having nothing better to do, she changed into her pajamas, made herself some popcorn, and decided to treat herself to an episode or two of FRIENDS. Her enthusiasm was unrelenting as she continued watching episode after episode, surpassing the four-episode mark.

Little did she know that her streak of luck was finite. Just as Yelena texted that the plane was taking off and the clock struck midnight, Y/N's fairy godmother played the cruelest joke on her—the power cut off.

“Oh, come on!” Y/N whined exasperatedly. She kicked her legs against her rug, throwing a tantrum like a child who’s been denied candy. After a steady string of curses, she fished out her phone and turned on her flashlight. 

Since she was living in a house rather than an apartment, she peeked through her window to check if she was the only one facing a power outage. Most of the lights were off in the houses around them—it was midnight, after all. But the street lights were, in fact, on. 

Once outside, she located the panel and opened it. The switches appeared to be in the “on” position, but she noticed that some of the wires looked worse for wear. 

“Seriously, Lucifer. What do you want, you bastard? My soul in exchange for some peace!” Maybe that wasn't the wisest thing to say to the devil. Next thing she knew, the wires inside the electrical panel were cackling, and sparks began to fly. The sudden noise startled her, causing her to jump back in surprise. “That was a joke! Don’t they have those in hell?” 

Capriciously, the energy within the panel flared up. Y/N decided it was best to stop talking. 

Nervously, she started chewing on her nails. It was already midnight, with electricians available at this hour. In a situation like this, she would have called Yelena, but Yelena was already on a lengthy 8-hour flight to Sokovia. Seeking help from neighbors at this late hour wasn't a viable option either. And though she could consider sleeping in her car, the trembling in her fingers and her foggy breath reminded her of the biting cold.

Finding herself at a crossroads, Y/N pondered going inside and waiting for tomorrow to come. In the end, it’s not like her bad luck could possibly get any worse. But the crackling electricity was intensifying her anxiety and making it difficult to make a decision. Until she was suddenly reminded of something. 

Don’t hesitate to give me a call. Even if it’s at four in the morning, the voice inside her head echoed. 

Was it egotistic on her part to call Steve just because she needed help? Yes. Was it completely illogical to expect him to be awake at midnight? Uh-huh. Was she going to do it anyway? Absolutely. In fact, she was on the second ring now. And she just hoped Lucifer didn’t have any more tricks planned.

"Hello?" The first thing she noticed was the skepticism evident in the voice. The second realization was that it belonged to a woman.

Lucifer, Y/N called in her head. You can kill me now.

“Uhm, good evening.” Great. Now that the easy part was out of the way, she was left with one last dilemma. This woman could potentially be Steve's wife, and she's going to confuse Y/N for the mistress. Fun-fucking-tastic. “I’m sorry, but is this Steve Rogers’ number?” 

“Who is asking?” the woman fired back. 

Maybe it was time to end the call. “I’m Y/N. I, uh, kind of need some help.” 

"I'll inform Mr. Rogers that you called," the woman replied. A flicker of hope ignited in Y/N's chest, only to be extinguished as quickly as a discarded cigarette crushed on the pavement when the woman abruptly hung up the phone, leaving her stunned and disheartened.

Y/N clutched her phone tightly against her chest. She stomped her foot on the ground, tears of frustration beginning to well up in her eyes. These two weeks had been horrible, and there wasn’t the slightest sign that it was going to get any better. 

Y/N massaged her eyes with her thumb and index fingers, feeling the strain of the cold and the situation weighing upon her. As she started mentally searching for the correct placement of her flashlights and candles, her phone began to vibrate, her ringtone reverberating through the quiet and empty street.

Biting her cheek, Y/N fished it out. To her delight, it was Steve. She immediately pressed the accept button, anticipating to hear the woman from before. But a different voice greeted her instead. 

“Steve?” 

“Evening, Y/N.” His tone was placid and calm. Good, so Y/N hadn’t disturbed him with her unexpected call. “Everything alright?”

“I am so sorry to call you at this hour,” she hurriedly replied. Y/N barely took a breath before she continued, “I didn’t want to bother you so late, and I didn’t want to ask for a favor either. I know this makes me sound so selfish, but believe me, Steve. I had the most horrendous two weeks of my life, which is why I never texted you—”

“Whoa, whoa. Slow down, Y/N. I didn’t give you my number with any expectation that you might call or text me. It’s okay. And I don't think that you're selfish. You've obviously taken your time before calling me, so what's the issue? You're not in trouble, are you?"

He’s so sweet, Y/N thought. She hadn’t even realized she was smiling at his words until she had to clear her throat. 

“Something’s wrong with the power at my house. My best friend is out of the country and most of my neighbors are sleeping. Normally, I wouldn’t worry about it and wait till tomorrow, but my electrical panel is acting out. So, I don’t know what to do.” 

“You send me your location and wait for me to come,” he replied matter-of-factly with too much confidence and little to no hesitance. 

Y/N’s heart fluttered in her chest. The gentle heat in his words dispelled the coldness that had clung to her, leaving her feeling embraced by warmth.

“I don’t want to bother you.” 

“You’re no bother at all, Y/N. I’ll be waiting for your text.”

As soon as he hung up, Y/N immediately sent him her location. When she made sure he read it, she decided it was best to wait for him inside her house. It wasn’t like he was going to be there in the next twenty seconds. So, she sat by the window, grabbed a flashlight from her cupboard, and turned it on. 

She felt giddy for some reason—excited to see him again. There was a certain kindness to him, she supposed. A comforting aura that told her that when he was there, there was nothing to fear. Maybe it was the fact that he towered over her, and she was sure his whole body would engulf her if she ever found herself in his arms. Or maybe it was his blue eyes that consumed her whole. 

A car's headlights suddenly pierced through the darkness, grabbing Y/N's attention and pulling her out of her reverie. Startled, she glanced down at her phone, disbelief washing over her as she realized she had been lost in her thoughts for what felt like an eternity. To her surprise, only fifteen minutes had actually passed. A wave of relief and gratitude washed over her when the car parked by her house.

Y/N's heart raced with anticipation as she hastily bolted toward the door, unlocking it and eagerly stepping outside. Though her giddiness and excitement turned to confusion when she realized that Steve wasn't the one who emerged from the car.

“Miss Y/N?” a man called out. It was Sam, Steve’s best friend. When Y/N nodded, he continued, “I’m Sam Wilson, and this is Bucky Barnes. Steve sent us.” 

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” She shook their hands. “Thank you so much for coming. I'm sorry to have bothered you this late.” 

“Where’s the electrical panel?” Bucky cut to the chase. Now that he was close, he looked a bit intimidating. He stood at the same height as Steve, though slightly less physically built.

Y/N led him to the panel, taking a step back to allow him to work. He carefully examined it while she fidgeted with her hands, gazing at the car they had arrived in. 

“We were in the area,” Sam’s voice cut through. Y/N’s attention turned to him. She looked like a deer in the headlights. “Steve lives upstate. He figured it was faster to send us.” 

“And I really appreciate it,” Y/N responded. 

After Sam joined Bucky in examining the panel, silence filled the air for a while. The sound of electricity hissing intermittently persisted until both men finally stepped back.

“The bad news is, some of the fuses seem to have melted and need replacement,” Bucky explained. “The good news is, it shouldn’t be too difficult to fix. But, it’ll have to wait until morning.”

Y/N’s shoulders slumped slightly as she absorbed the information. What has she ever done to be rewarded with two terrible weeks?

“Alright. Thanks for the help. I’m sorry to have disturbed you at this hour,” she said, sounding apologetic.

Sam narrowed his eyes. “Hold on a minute,” he interjected, a touch of worry in his voice. “You can’t just go back to your house like this.”

Confused, Y/N asked, “Why not?”

“Because it’s freezing outside, and you’re gonna get hypothermia without any heat in your house. Not to mention it’s not safe.”

Y/N chuckled lightly, trying to brush off the concern. “I have quilts, you know,” she reassured him. “And a lock.”

Sam shook his head. He turned to Bucky, who licked his mouth before he spoke. “If you do that, doll. I have a feeling our boss will not be too happy about it,” Bucky admitted. “Let me call him.”

Bucky stepped away from the group, pulling out his phone to make the call. As he conversed with Steve, Y/N caught fragments of their conversation before the phone was handed to her.

“You’re not seriously going to sleep in your house?” Steve’s voice sounded both worried and protective.

Y/N responded with a soft hum, trying to downplay the situation. “I have quilts and a lock.”

“And I have a perfectly fine apartment nearby that I don’t use. It’s not too far from your place.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, her eyes focused on the ground. She then looked up, biting her lower lip. “Steve,” she started, her voice wavering slightly.

He interrupted her gently, understanding the weight of the situation. “Look, I know we’ve barely met. But I can’t just let you sleep in your house under such circumstances. Especially after Bucky and Sam couldn’t help much. I don’t use that apartment, and if it makes you feel safer, you can text your friends your Live Location and take your own car there. I just want to help.”

Y/N was taken aback by Steve’s unwavering concern and kindness. She realized that his offer came from a genuine place of wanting to help, even though they were relative strangers. After a moment of contemplation, she nodded appreciatively.

“Alright, Steve. Thank you,” she finally responded, her voice filled with gratitude. “I’ll take you up on your offer.”

“Glad to hear it, Y/N. Could you pass Bucky the phone, please? We’ll make sure you’re safe and warm tonight.”

Y/N handed Bucky the phone. She quickly explained to Sam that she would be retrieving a few belongings from her apartment. On her way inside, Y/N shot Yelena a text, including her live location and a brief explanation. Just in case.

Taking a moment to gather her essentials, including pepper spray for added security, Y/N made sure to remember to take Steve's jacket, the one he’d offered her two weeks ago. With her belongings in hand, she set off on her way. If only she knew what she had gotten herself into. 

Series Taglist: @crazyunsexycool @patzammit @wintasssoldier @themrsrogers

Steve seems like a knight in shining armor. Does he not?

: ̗̀➛ Read Chapter 3 | Star Command Blue

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers #captain america #captain america x female reader #captain america x reader #avengers fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel mcu #avengers #steve rogers x y/n #mafia steve rogers #mob steve rogers #mob!steve rogers x reader #mafia!steve rogers x reader

[fingerless-glovez]

aaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA COLLEGE AU WON'T LEAVE ME ALONE

Here's what I've got so far

Toa

• Majoring in political science and government

• Works at a library

• Absolutely hates his major and would rather be in a music course, but he isn't going to defy Gilbert's wish for him to become a politician

• Gilbert and Roc have a political rivalry and are constantly spying on each other, so when Gilbert found out Guy was being raised to succeed Roc, he felt there was no other choice than to do the same with Toa

• Keep in mind, both Guy and Toa were both extremely young when this was decided

• Adopted Knight and brought him to college with him

• He found Knight during his freshman year knocked out in an alley next to a cat that had unfortunately passed away. Toa took him to the hospital and visited him when he woke up, only to discover he was homeless and has no memory. When Knight recovered, Toa snuck him into his house to live in his closet and receive basic education until college

Fenn

• Majoring in creative writing

• Got disowned, kicked out, and cut off immediately after turning 18

• Joke's on Louis, Fenn set up his own bank accounts and has been saving money since he started his first job at 14

• Throws the best parties

• Regular at Lance and Jasper's bar

Lynt

• Majoring in psychology

• Empath that just wants everyone to be happy

• As his course goes on, he starts to notice the signs that his friends have some serious problems

• Resident peacekeeper

• Cuddles with everyone

Roy

• Majoring in liberal arts

• Wants to be a college professor

• Helps Guy with whatever he needs

• Put on a perfect facade every day

• Klaus works for Roc and Roy is terrified of ruining their working relationship and embarrassing his father, so he basically does everything Guy tells him to

• Sherry, Grayson, MC and Lynt are very concerned

Rio

• Majoring in culinary arts

• Works at his family's restaurant, Voleri Gold Eatery

• Wants to own his own restaurant

• Is the academy's support animal

• Probably got shoved into his locker in high school

• That's what he gets for trying to be a decent person in a fucking high school

Lance

• Majoring in animal sciences

• Works at the same bar as Jasper

• Wants to be a wildlife biologist

• Addis wanted him to go into politics, but y'know what, fuck Addis

• Almost didn't get in because of his shitty permanent record from school, but his test scores were actually really good

• Plus, Lou seemed to sense his potential and passion for animals, so he let him in

• He got a dorm all to himself so he could sneak Christoph in with him. He allows Christoph the top bunk

• Takes care of Nox when Grayson is busy

Knight

• Majoring in animal health

• Toa paid for the bulk of his course, but Knight is working to pay him back

• Works at an animal shelter

• Wants to be a vet

• Secretly lived in Toa's closet before moving out with him to attend the academy

• Has post traumatic amnesia from his past head injury, but neither he nor Toa can afford actual treatment

• Buuuut he starts remembering bits and pieces of his life from constant nightmares and hallucinations

Grayson

• Majoring in criminal justice and police science

• Wants to be a detective

• Wants to investigate his uncle and bring him to justice

• Loves his horse, Nox

• Traumatized by that one scene in The Godfather

• More scared of you than you are of him

• Unless you wanna talk about horses, Nox specifically

(That’s all I got. Still figuring everyone else's antics out)

#court of darkness #toa qelsum #fenn luxure #lynt akedia #roy invidia #rio voleri #lance ira #court of darkness knight #grayson hotz #i don't know anything about college

[disregardcanon]

i'm thinking about a npmd the good place au and HOO BOY the ideas

it's a season 1 setup, with tinky as the architect of the neighborhood.

... good janets are petes and bad janets are teds. OUR pete is the neighborhood's pete and he's just kinda. trying to get by. shit's weird, guys. he doesn't remember how he got here and all his protocols have been messed up and the guy that took him isn't very nice. but this is- it's fine. it has to fine (there's no other choice.)

grace chastity is still adjusting to the idea that the christian god isn't real. she is not enjoying that very much, but she IS validated by the idea that her actions as a christian got her into The Place Where Good People Go. her actual exploits like mission trips and getting dances canceled and running abstinence camp are what are brought up during the Look How Cool We Are Welcome to the Neighborhood gala.

steph has been assigned to be her soulmate. she isn't supposed to be here. she's not like, an ABSURDLY bad person for anything, she just. was raised by solomon lauter. so she got the hell out of dodge after graduation and MAYBE she did some scams to get by after that. and like maybe she knows how to make a molotov cocktail and has used one once or twice. she certainly isn't The Best Person Who Did All These Things To Help the World and Support Great Liberal Causes that they keep saying she is. (she... wishes she was. though.) and these bible studies that her soulmate (soulmate???? THE FUCK) grace chastity keeps trying to force her to do so not to out her to the authorities as A Mistake Who Should Not Be Here. really aren't helping. (like come on. grace still insists that it's bad to be bisexual but look who her soulmate is? STEPH! so maybe steph knows more about how to adjust to this new world that little miss evangelist does)

ruth fleming is the first recorded case (according to tinky) of a Human Without a Soulmate in the history of humanity. just her fucking luck. she can't even get the robot guy to fuck her. ughgggghhh. you spend your life writing high quality erotic for lonely people and it gets you into heaven! but it doesn't even get you a partner. fuckin' rude

max jagerman doesn't think that he did anything wrong. he was the king of hatchetfield high, and then hatchetfield community college, and then he managed to fight his way to a backup quarterback spot on the jacksonville jaguars (this is the good place it will be the jaguars). and then! he's the REAL quarterback! if patrick ma-fucking-homes would just drop dead he'd be the most famous quarterback in the united states, thank you!

but when he dies... the guy doesn't tell him congrats on all the success. he doesn't even recognize that this is MAXWELL JAGERMAN! the quarterback who should be the most famous and well-respected in the united states. he makes some weird references to how... ambition... is... bad? and that those that hurt other people are... bad? says something about being a channel of peace or whatever? and that if this was a mix up then max is free to go to "drowsy town"? whatever the fuck that means.

so when he says "but you're not an ambitious bully that hurt others to get where you were! you're a super nice silent catholic monk who promoted peace on earth, right?" and max just.... stares.

"do you want to keep up your vow of silence? you can just nod." and max... does. because what the fuck do you say to that? shit shit shit shit shit shit FUCK

his "soulmate" is richie lipschitz, warrior for the sanctity of other people's art. why, if his youtube channel that makes fun of other people's bad art and takes and uses his fan base to come after much smaller creators isn't a net positive in the world, then what IS? some loser who doesn't understand anything complaining about the fascist implications of attack on titan on the internet? HA! (richie is disappointed that his soulmate isn't someone better, who likes him, but it was never going to live up to rei or asuka anyway. so he'll live)

he's the only one who knows max, and they went to high school together. max was the exact sort of bully that he was in canon. and it takes a LOT of sweet talk about how richie's the one who's actually supposed to be here to get him to stay quiet about the Max Actually Being an Awful Football Player and Not That Cool Silent Monk thing.

ruth and richie become friends through a series of sitcom tomfoolery. the sitcom tomfoolery is mainly Dragging The Poor Robot Into Playing Games and then Getting Mad That He's Better At The Games Than They Are. also ruth getting frustrated that the robot does not want to fuck her. (it's not because the robot does not want to fuck she's just not his type)

steph knows that she recognizes that silent monk guy from somewhere but can't quite put her finger on it, and she knows that something is VERY wrong here.

grace is developing a crush on her soulmate and does not know how to do that. (does being a soulmate count as marriage? is it actually bad to be gay when god doesn't even properly exist? did her actions matter since she wasn't serving a real god? what do you do with an EXISTENTIAL CRISIS IN THE AFTERLIFE?!?!?! ugh stomachache.)

max wants to figure out how to go back to being The Coolest Guy Ever, FUCK YEAH (he can't even shout go nighthawks or jacksonville jaguars, because he can't talk! it sucks!) but he knows that his soulmate Will Not Help. the guy, unreasonably, is still holding high school against him. and also everything else that max has legitimately messed up since then. (ha, it's almost like. consequences to your actions-) and then he meets grace chastity, biggest prude and most Sure of Herself in This Entire Place.

and he's in love <3 he prostrates himself in front of her and BEGS her to help him become "a good person" so that he can stay here. and grace is like i really don't have time for that i have to teach my own Secretly Shitty Soulmate the bible. and steph's like uh you can just. stop doing that. i'm really not interested-

and grace is like NO YOU ARE NOT LEAVING ME YOU BEAUTIFUL CHARMING SEDUCTRESS! and steph's like ugh. did i finally cure this girl's internalized homophobia in time for her to just. not leave me the fuck alone? fuck

so a max who, in theory, wants to learn grace chastity's version of Good Personhood so that he can earn his spot here and become Coolest Guy in the Good Place, King of Good Place High, and mainly just wants to spend time with her and get her to like him, grace who is having a bisexual panic attack and also fighting off existential dread, and steph, who knows that there is something very very wrong here and that grace can't help her with morality but also. has not figured out what's wrong or who can. is just stuck here while the other two flirt and grace occassionally remembers to make googly eyes HER way instead of max jagerman's. who IS the famous football player. what a fuckin' world

steph starts trying to research What the Fuck Is Wrong Here, and realizes that max's soulmate, richie, and tragically unattached ruth are befriending the Robot with Godlike Knowledge. and she's like oh wow i could probably utilize that in my Research.

more sitcom shenanigans occur. grace and max stop noticing that their third wheel isn't attending bible studies and they become more and more them just dancing towards sexual encounters.

steph uses her con artist raised by a politician (other type of con artist) skills to notice more and more strange fuckery, as things with the world start spiraling further and further out of control.

"you're pretty funny. you know, for a robot."

"not a robot."

"then what are you, exactly?"

"... a spankoffski?" and steph feels really bad for laughing.

she gets figured out as Not Who She Appears to Be and has to go through this big long contrived process to get to stay in the good place instead of getting shipped off, and it just seems... like so much. they bring up reps from the bad place and the stakes seem so contrived.

ruth and richie shenanigan together by Trying to Find The Swinger Soulmate Pairs while steph tries to figure out why, exactly, nothing feels real. and it feels less real when the walls start to enclose and she might be getting removed from the good place entirely.

the bad place representatives show up: another weird guy with another weird name and his own robot.

the bad place even has their own version of pete- a weird, horny bastard who won't answer anyone's questions and just complains the whole time. but why would that demon that they brought up be... willing? to let them cut a deal? why does their architect seem... weirdly chummy with them? they act almost the same, treating their robot right hands with the same amount of... callous contempt. perhaps the Ted "deserves" it, but-

... why isn't tinky kind to pete? pete might not be HUMAN, but he's still... sentient. he has thoughts and feelings and he's her favorite company in this godforsaken place- and tinky is supposed to be the creator of a place that's good and just.

what exactly are their numbers indicating? why is everything so confusing and bullshit and-

she runs out to the lake, just to clear her head. sit by the water and watch. she pulls her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them.

"hey pete?" she asks. the well-dressed robot materializes beside her. sitting cross-legged.

"everyone has... points, right? that's how they figure out if you go to the good place or the bad place?"

"that's correct."

"who has the most points here?"

"you."

steph chuckles. "good one, spankoffski. i didn't know you could joke on purpose"

he tilts his head in confusion. "it wasn't a joke."

"i- what?"

"there are only 5 sets of numbers here. yours is the highest. it's been going up steadily ever since you got here."

steph just stares. "pete, there can't- there's hundreds of people here. why would only 5 of us have numbers?"

"only humans have numbers," he says simply. and oh god, oh fuck, oh shit-

"how did you get here?" she asks softly.

he looks thoughtful for a moment. "i... don't remember."

so steph gathers up the five other humans and they break their way into tinky's office, pete in tow.

and he's like "huh. what are you all doing here together?"

the other four humans are still confused, but steph is a forceful personality and convinced them this was the only way to fix things.

"go ahead and send me to the bad place," steph says, "i thought about it, and i don't want to keep making things so HARD on all of you. i was soooo selfish in life, but i don't want to keep that up."

tinky looks anxious. "oh steph, you aren't a burden."

she smiles. "but i thought i wasn't even supposed to be here?"

"we've made it work," tinky promises.

steph laughs. "i don't think so. this show reminds me what my dad would do, when he wanted to seem like he was fighting for something politically that he already had set up. it's all a show, right?"

tinky grins tightly. "i don't know what you mean."

"you're not sending me to the bad place, because i'm ALREADY THERE!" she declares. the other humans gasp. pete looks unfazed.

tinky blinks. "i don't know what you're talking about."

"there are only 5 sets of numbers here," steph says, "and guess whose is the highest? MINE! and i'm not even supposed to be here."

"two clerical errors? really?" steph demands.

"things happen," tinky says.

"and the three that got here fair and square?" steph asks, "we have a self-righteous church girl, a bullied youtuber who started bullying people himself, and an erotic writer. of teacher/student!" steph laughs, "come on, you're telling me that THOSE are the best humanity has to offer? and that max and i both just so happpenneeddd to end up here? in error?"

tinky grits his teeth. "no one else here is even human. if they were, they'd act like it. and they'd have numbers. but they don't."

"this is our own little nightmare realm that you cooked up to torture us."

then tinky laughs, maniacal and goat-like.

"wait," grace whispers, "i'm not... a good person?"

"NO!" tinky cackles, "that was the fun! but now... someone's ruined it for all of us. we're going to have to reset everything now. are you happy, stephanie?"

she frowns. "reset?" tinky snaps his fingers, and the humans pass out on his floor.

"i'm not supposed to be here," pete says, looking with wide eyes over to the passed out humans.

"ugh," tinky says, "RESET!" and not-a-robot not-a-boy spankoffski resets too.

he has another chance at this. and another. and another. and another. and another- however many it takes to get this right. and he WILL get this right, after all. he has all the time in the world.

#hatchetfield #npmd #npmd aus #grace chastity #richie lipschitz #ruth fleming #stephanie lauter #peter spankoffski #jagertity #lautski #lausity #lautity #tgp

[jebewonmorelike]

I Hate You, (I Want You), Seok Matthew

wc: 1.6k warnings: angst with a happy/fluff ending; swearing; mentions of hook-up culture; drinking (reader is 21, 3rd year of college); frat/party setting pronouns: none used; reader has a femme best friend summary: fratboy!matthew au oops ~masterlist~ ♡ ~kofi (no pressure at all)~ matthew is that sweet, introspective fratboy that respects his partners that we all wish existed, but literally never will. so enjoy pretending that boys are nice through this little fic. love u. &lt;3

Matthew Seok made your blood boil.

And none of your friends could understand why.

You'd spent many a night in your dorm, tipsily listing all of his infuriating tendencies and desperately trying to rally support for your Anti-Matt campaign.

But no matter how many times you explained it to them, they just shrugged you off. And if you were being honest with yourself, you couldn't really blame them. There was a time not so long ago when you only saw his good traits, too.

But that was before.

And now all you wanted to do was take the girls that waited for him in the hallway by the shoulders and shake them until their rose-colored glasses fell off.

Your distaste for Matthew Seok was so strong that you'd started avoiding places you liked to go, since every time you left your dorm you somehow had the misfortune of bumping into him. And you just couldn't stomach it: turning the corner, meeting his eyes, walking away before he could say anything...

The feeling of your heart dropping to your stomach.

You hated it.

You hated him.

"Get dressed, we're going out," your friend Megan announces as she walks through the door, startling you out of your boredom-induced daze.

"What? Why?" You ask quickly, not liking the determined look on her face.

"Because you've done nothing but go to class and sit here at your desk pretending to do homework for a month straight. You're an undeclared Liberal Arts major... How much homework could you possibly have?"

You pouted. "What are you trying to say?"

She smiles, walking over to you and placing a hand on your shoulder. "It's time for some fun."

You groan.

"Oh, come on! You used to love fun. Every day you were off on some little adventure and every night you were dancing in the living room of one godforsaken frat house or another," Megan says, giving you a pitiful look. "I can't let you sit here any longer, lovey. I just can't."

A long sigh escapes you as you look up at your friend. You remember when you first met her at freshman orientation, standing there shy and meek with a mint green sweater on. When everyone broke off into groups to eat lunch, you'd both been left in the courtyard alone to fend for yourselves. You'd eaten lunch with her every day since then for the last two and a half years. And you’d both changed a considerable amount in that time.

"Fine," you finally grumble, watching her pleading look turn to a satisfied grin.

"Good. Let's make you hot again," she says, running to the closet and flinging the door open.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN AGAIN!?"

~

Staring up at the familiar old house, you feel your heart speed up. You didn't realize how quickly you'd fallen out of practice. Every weekend you used to make a stop here, claiming the reason for your frequent visiting was that you liked the star projector they’d set up in the living room.

And you did like it.

It made him look even prettier.

You shake your head rapidly in an attempt to silence the thought. It’s useless now that you know what kind of a person Matthew Seok really is.

"Hey. Don't be nervous," Megan says, taking your hand in hers and squeezing it. "He's not here, babe. He went home this weekend. I still don’t really know what you’re deal with him is, but I checked for you anyway.”

Already you feel your shoulders relax. Of course he's not here. Megan wouldn't bring you here if he was.

You look hot for nothing.

Your hands fly to your head in exasperation at the sound of the intrusive thought.

"You've got this, (y/n). You're still the reigning star here, you know. All anybody ever asks me is when you're coming out again," Megan says with a convincing grin.

You bite your lip and smile. "I guess I can give the people what they want."

"That's the spirit babe!" She exclaims, dragging you up the front steps and to the door. A tall guy opens it and walks out at the same time you and Megan approach.

"OH SHIT! Tiny Dancer is back!" Johnny shouts, his hand flying out to take yours. "Fucking missed you, dude."

You smile, shaking his hand. "I've just been really busy the past few weeks."

"Well, it's a special night then. Drink up!" Johnny says, pulling a beer from his pocket and handing it to you.

"Thanks," you say, popping the top and taking a sip as you and Megan walk through the door and into the frat house. The lights are all off, the house only illuminated by LED light strips, a disco ball, and your favorite star projector.

"YOOOOO! Tiny Fucking Dancer!" You hear someone shout from across the room and feel the blush creep onto your cheeks. You're too sober for this attention after being away from it for over a month. Megan pulls you into the living room as a bunch of intoxicated partygoers rush over to greet you.

"Where've you been!?" Brian asks, patting you on the back. “There’s been a distinct lack of uninhibited dancing in our house this month.”

"I've just had a lot going on recently," you reply as nonchalantly as possible, trying your best to keep up with all the hugs and the questions. You were starting to feel overwhelmed, looking around the room for a place to sit so you could breathe for a second.

That's when you spot him.

Wide eyes meeting yours, lips slightly parted in the way they always were when you used to catch him staring.

Your breath hitches in your throat as you're frozen in place. He doesn't look away. But someone has to.

"Can someone please pour me a ton of shots!?" You shout the request, the crowd around you bubbling with excitement as you migrate with them into the kitchen.

As Brian lines up five shots for you (one for every weekend you've missed), Megan grabs your hand and squeezes it.

"I swear Johnny said he'd be gone. I'm so sorry," she apologizes and you know she means it from the look on her face.

You do your best to shrug it off. "Just do some shots with me."

She squeezes your hand again. "Are you sure?"

You nod, picking up the first glass and knocking it back. Vodka. The liquid stings your throat and you wish you had something other than Johnny's gross warm beer as a chaser. "By the time you start, I'll already be done!"

With that, Megan takes the empty shot glass from your hand and pours it full as she joins you for the next one.

~

You're dancing now.

On a usual night, you were the only one dancing in the middle of the living room floor as people made out, played stupid games, or watched you and giggled.

But when you were drunk, you just didn't care. All you wanted to do was move. A tipsy mind meant a fluid body and you could never turn down the opportunity to completely lose yourself in the shitty music with the base cranked up and the tacky LED light strips on the walls.

But tonight, everyone was dancing. Maybe it was a special night, after all.

Only now does the crowd die out, people gathering in the kitchen for beer pong or going upstairs to hook up (ahem, Megan and Brian). But you couldn't stop even if you wanted to.

"The dance floor missed you."

You freeze. You were so happy you'd almost forgotten he was here.

Almost.

"Can I talk to you?"

You turn around slowly to face him. He's wearing a jean jacket over a white university hoodie and his hair flops boyishly in his eyes. It's like a knife to the heart.

You hate him.

You hate him for making you feel this way.

"I'm busy," you say, biting your lip as you look away.

"I know. I didn't ask you to stop," Matthew replies, the smallest smile tugging at his lips.

You swallow hard at the sight. "I don't want to talk to you."

"Yeah, I've kind of pieced that together," he says, a hand reaching to the back of his neck. "And I understand why."

"Do you?" You ask now, finally meeting his gaze as another wave of liquid courage hits you. "Well that's good news, Matt! I'm so glad that you've come to understand how going out with someone else after you told me you liked me might be upsetting to me. Now, maybe, you can leave me alone forever."

"I didn't.”

You blink back at him in silence. Eventually, you laugh. "Sure you didn't."

"I didn't," he says, sincere eyes locked on yours. "I know Johnny said that I was going out with someone else. But I only told the guys that to get them off my back. They kept hounding me about why I wasn't hooking up with anyone anymore."

Your heart beats so hard that you swear it melded with the base.

"I just really didn't want to tell them how I felt about you. You saw how fast that stupid lie I told spread across campus. They would've ruined everything before it even started."

You nod slowly. "So you ruined it instead."

He sighs despondently and then nods. "I did. I never meant for this to happen. And I'm really sorry."

You just look at him for a few moments. The perfect curve of his annoying lips, the refined angle of his infuriating jawline, the entirely cliche sparkle of his stupid eyes...

And the little star-shaped lights making constellations across his face.

The truth was you hated Matthew Seok.

"Dance with me," you say, stepping back and reveling in the grin on his face as he follows. Wrapping his arms around your waist and moving with you to the rhythm of the music, your lips find their way to his in the glow of the lameass LED lights.

You hated Matthew Seok because he made you want him.

#boys planet #boys planet imagines #boys planet drabbles #bp #bp999 #bp999 imagines #bp999 drabbles #bepler #mnet boys planet #seok matthew #seok matthew imagines #seok matthew drabbles #matthew seok #matthew #bepler imagines #bepler drabbles #mnet #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop drabbles

[aleprouswitch]

Last night, I made a series of posts on my Instagram stories talking about my experiences growing up poor and mentally ill when a) I went to a liberal arts high school with mostly upper class students and faculty/staff who subjected me to very subtle "othering" throughout my schooling, and b) I had a deeply, almost fanatically religious mother who refused to get me any kind of professional help for the mental health issues (including childhood trauma) I was suffering from, not to mention her own mental health problems.

I talked about these things in relation to how the term "financial literacy" exists to imply that those who are poor are somehow less intelligent and therefore deserving of their poverty. This is something that conservatives and liberals both attest to the alleged truthfulness of - conservatives often do this with urban/inner city populations, and liberals often do it with rural countryfolk. Either way, it's still furthering the fallacy that to be poor is to be cursed with intellectual and/or moral shortcomings, and this factor justifies oppression.

This morning I woke up to an absolute flurry of Instagram messages and scores of likes from people who were deeply affected by what I wrote. I was kind of shocked honestly, but in a way it made me feel good that sharing bits and pieces of my personal hell helped to alleviate the pain that others were feeling from going through very similar ordeals. Even not related to this series of Instagram stories...sometimes I get random messages from followers on Instagram or Tumblr or wherever telling me that the things I discuss in my music and my writing is helping them.

Starting when I was an undergrad in college and up through today, I have used writing as a medium to make sense of a lot of the shit that's happened to me in my life, and as of a few years ago, I'm now doing the same thing with music. I've always been drawn to dark, experimental styles of music as well, so it makes sense that noise/industrial became my medium for telling tales from my turbulent past. One recurring theme that will always present itself in my music and writing is power struggles and socioeconomic class struggles, especially in how they relate to mental illness.

I have lived it, and the best work that an artist often produces is a reflection of their lived experiences.

#personal

[miffue]

★ ALWAYS MUNCHIN GC

y/n - a 3rd year in teyvat university, psychology major struggling to keep up with your grades. you had the best grades in high school until your break up with scaramouche, which fucked you up pretty badly.. nobody knows who your ex is, not even 2 of your really good friends.

hu tao - a 3rd year in teyvat university, business major who's slacking off. this is one of your best friends, you guys have known each other for quite a bit of time and has been through thick and thin! she's also been dating yanfei for 2 years almost 3!! you're also the reason they even got together in the first place!

yanfei - a 3nd year at teyvat university, law major and a perfectionist. she's the top of her class, passing all her classes with a 4.0 GPA! yanfei and albedo tend to help you with your classes even though they both have a different majors. event though you've only been friends for 1 year or 2, you guys are super close!!

lumine - a 3rd year in teyvat university, liberal arts major. aethers sister and the proclaim better blonde. an amazing friend of yours beside hu tao. lumine has been taking care of you ever since you've been friends, knowing all of your secrets beside one. she also gets many many dudes confessing to her even though she's rejected all of them because she's a lesbian!!

albedo - a 4th year in teyvat university, anatomy major and also a perfectionist. known around campus as the prince of the school, because of his charming looks he often get confessed to a lot. you consider him a good friend for the amount times he’s given u advice that saved your life and the tutoring sessions!!

yoimiya - a 3rd year in teyvat university, architect major and a super lively girl!! when you guys first met, you guys instantly clicked! you guys are super good friends even though you guys met on your third year of college. also apparently she has a crush on ayaka??!! you what both of them together but don’t wanna push them, they’ll figure it out on their own.

ayaka - a 3rd year in teyvat university, dance major and the sister of kamisato ayato. the sweetest girl in your opinion, she’s always super supportive and gives really good advice too! you guys met during your first year in college and been friends ever since!!! honestly is the “sugar mommy” of the gc, she doesn’t mind it tho!! she loves spending money on her besties.

★ SYNOPSIS you and scaramouche or kunikuzushi from 6REEZE dated in highschool but went your own ways after an argument. So when one of the members sister is apart of your friend group invites you to their concert without knowing that one of them is your ex. You’re still head over heels for him but, does he still have feelings for you?

masterlist | no bitches gang

#✉️ minnie’s writings .ᐟ #LOVE COUNTDOWN ♡ #scara smau #always munchin gc #profile for smau #genshin smau #genshin x reader #scaramouche x reader #scara x reader #modern au

[katiekatdragon27]

To my other followers: I am so sorry.

To my two new followers: *comes out with silver platter* Here! Eat uuuuupppp~~~~

This! *slams fists on table then slams face on table* This GODFORSAKEN MOVIE HAS ALTERED MY BRAIN CHEMISTRY I'M NOT JOKING.

I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT KIND OF "RECLAIMING MY CHILDHOOD TRAUMA" MINDEST MY BRAIN WAS ON BUT THE OBSESSION WITH THIS PIECE IF MEDIA IS ACTUALLY SCARING ME-

Most stuff below. Lots of rambling.

So. Flatland. It's a good book, and an amazing f*cking movie. I love this goddamned movie so much bro. It's not even like a "good" good movie I just really like it for no reason.

Some lore I have with this book, since I want to talk about it.

I watched this movie the first time when I was in 6th grade. It scared me so bad that I had nightmares about it for a week. I hated the style of the 2D world and was so scared about the amount of murder that I psychologically blocked it all out.

Now in the present (as an adult in college), my friend brought up the movie for us to watch during a movie night. I was way more excited to watch it than I thought I would be (cuz of my previous encounter with it and wanting to "reclaim" the movie), but we only got 4 minutes in before my other friends got bored and decided to watch something else. I sorta dropped it for a bit after that before @/goosesartblog posted their ONE - Flatland crossover and 10000 emotions flew over me. I then proceeded to watch it with my siblings, who also did not care about the movie.

Now, it has become a lifestyle of watching it every single day. Every. Single. Day. It's bad. I can't stop.

And it's on YouTube for free.

AND the book is on YouTube as an audiobook AND the actual PDF book is just there to read.

PLEASE. I NEED PEOPLE TO NOT BE NORMAL WITH ME.

Anyways, actual relevant doodles. These characters are A. Sphere (the objectively best character idgaf) and Carlton Cube(?). I saw something about them being John-locked and thought it was really funny. Also, I saw a meme about the two getting Starbucks or smth during the week I lingered, so here lol.

Some more doodles of concept stuff. Actual A. Square art and some style testing, Hex doodle, and more A. Sphere bc I love him so much. His ass is gay idk if you think I'm wrong just look at him.

Silly little idea I had about if Spherious *(the sphere from the other Flatland movie) and A. Sphere were in the same universe. It's unlikely, but I think Spherious would be the Messiah of 2000 and A. Sphere is the Messiah of 3000. They met at some point where their lives overlapped, and Spherious tried to give A. Sphere advice, to which he was completely ignored. A. Sphere's a bratty teen here and Spherious is a grandpa. They treat their apostles very differently.

Another silly idea I had was that when A. Sphere "died", he was actually picked up by a 4D being named A. Tesseract. He stays with her until the war is over in his dimension, and he is able to see A. Square one last time during his hallucination (that's why A. Sphere's innards are seen). Also also, A. Sphere learns how to treat people better b/c of A. Tesseract and the 4th dimensions' more liberal views on expression and gender. Development for the stupid shiny solid.

Thank you for looking at this mindless rambling. If anyone knows of more Flatland media, please send it to me I'm starving. Expect more, and have a great day :)

#flatland #flatland 2007 #flatland the movie #a sphere #a square #spherios #flatland oc??? kinda??? #a. tesseract is mine ig #idk anymore lol #flatland spherious #carlton #hexagon #a sphere my beloved #he's so me #sorry for the shitty pictures my camera is being ass rn #i sincerely apologize for this cringe guys it will happen again #doodles #katiekatdragon27

[homomenhommes]

THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … February 25

1937 – Severo Sarduy, born in Camagüey, Cuba (d.1993) was a Cuban poet, author, playwright, and critic of Cuban literature and art.

He went to Havana in the mid-1950s to study medicine. Though he did not finish his studies, he retained a lifelong interest in science. While living in the capital he pursued his vocation for poetry and painting and came into contact with older writers such as José Rodríguez Feo and José Lezama Lima.

With the advent of the revolution in 1959, Sarduy became one of a group of young writers given the task of renewing Cuban literature. Sent to Paris by the government in 1960 to study art at the École du Louvre, Sarduy decided not to return to Cuba when his scholarship ran out a year later. Disaffected with Castro's regime and fearful of its persecution of homosexuals and the censorship imposed on writers, Sarduy never went home.

In Paris, he was connected to the group of intellectuals who produced the magazine Tel Quel, particularly to philosopher François Wahl, with whom he was openly involved.

Sarduy worked as a reader for Editions du Seuil and as editor and producer of the Radiodiffusion-Télévision Française.

In 1972 his novel Cobra won him the Medici Prize. He was among the most brilliant essayists writing in Spanish and "a powerful baroque narrator, full of surprising resources.".

As a poet, he was considered one of the greatest of his time. He was also a more or less secret painter; a major retrospective of his work was held at the Reina Sofía Museum of Madrid after his death. He died due to complications from AIDS just after finishing his autobiographical work Los pájaros de la playa.

Sarduy's posthumous Pájaros de la playa (1993; "Beach Fowl") is about a sanatorium for sufferers of AIDS, the disease that killed the author.

1942 – John Saul is an American author of suspense and horror novels. Most of his books have appeared on the New York Times Best Seller List.

Born in Pasadena, Saul grew up in Whittier, California. He went on to several colleges, variously majoring in anthropology, liberal arts and theater, but never obtained a degree. After leaving college, Saul decided to become a writer, and spent fifteen years working in various jobs while trying to improve his craft.

Prior to the start of his bestselling thriller career Saul had around ten books published under pen names, the first of which he wrote in one weekend after unexpectedly losing his job. His first book sale earned him just $200. Today he has over 60 million books in print.

In 1976, Dell Publishing contacted him and asked if he'd be interested in writing a psychological thriller. The resulting novel, Suffer the Children, appeared on all the bestseller lists in the United States and reached the number one spot in Canada. Cry for the Strangers was made into a film of the same name in 1982.

In addition to his novels, Saul has had several one-act plays produced in both Los Angeles and Seattle.

Saul lives part-time in the Pacific Northwest, both in Seattle and in the San Juan Islands, and has a residence on the Big Island of Hawaii. Saul is openly gay. He lives with his partner of 32 years, who has collaborated on several of his novels. He is a frequent speaker at the Maui Writers' Conference.

1947 – Jorge Donn was an internationally-known ballet dancer. (d.1992) He was best known for his work with the Maurice Béjart's Ballet company, and his participation as lead dancer in Claude Lelouch's film Les Uns et les Autres.

Jorge Donn was born in Buenos Aires, Argentina. He began to dance when he was 4 or 5 years old, then studied at the Colon Theatre school. In 1963, he arrived in Brussels to work in the Maurice Béjart company and soon became its principal dancer, entering into a twenty-year professional and personal relationship with Béjart.

Many of Béjart's works were created expressly for him: Bhakti (1968), Nijinsky, Clown of God (1971), Golestan, or The garden of roses (1973), Ce que l'amour me dit (1974), Notre Faust (1975), Léda (1978), Adagietto (1981) and others.

In 1976, Jorge Donn became artistic director of the Béjart's Ballet of the Twentieth Century company. In 1988, he founded his own company, L'Europa Ballet, which existed for a short time.

Jorge Donn died of AIDS on 30th November 1992 in Lausanne. Many choreographers created ballets as a tribute to him: Maurice Béjart (Ballet for Life), Denys Ganio (Tango... a rose for Jorge Donn), Carolyn Carlson (Homage for Jorge Donn), Grazia Galante (Masticando Sueños)

1950 – The Irish director Neil Jordan was born today. An Academy award-winning Irish filmmaker and novelist. He received the Academy Award for The Crying Game. As a writer/director, Jordan has a highly idiosyncratic body of work, ranging from mainstream hits like Interview With the Vampire to commercial failures like We're No Angels to a variety of more personal, low-budget art-house pictures.

Although in a conventional heterosexual marriage, unconventional sexual relationships are a recurring theme in this gay-friendly director's work, and he often finds a sympathetic side to characters audiences would traditionally consider deviant or downright horrifying. His film The Miracle, for instance, followed two characters who struggled to resist a strong, incestuous attraction, while The Crying Game made complicated, likable characters out of an IRA terrorist and a Transgendered woman. Vampire, like the Anne Rice book it was based on, focused on the intense sexual relationship of two undead men who murder humans nightly (although the pair never have sex, they are clearly lovers of a sort), accompanied by an equally lusty vampire woman who is eternally trapped in the body of a little girl. While Lestat (Tom Cruise) is depicted in an attractive but villainous manner, his lover Louis (Brad Pitt) and the child vampire Claudia (Kirsten Dunst) are meant to capture the audience's sympathy despite their predatory nature.

1953 – Garrett Glaser is a retired news reporter who was one of the first US television journalists to "come out" publicly as a homosexual.

His coming out occurred during the course of a speech he made before a large group of TV and radio executives at the 1992 convention of the Radio/TV News Directors Association being held in San Antonio, Texas. Although Glaser co-founded the Electronic Media Task Force of the National Lesbian/Gay Journalists Association (NLGJA) in 1990 and was later out, as well, to fellow journalists, he was not out to the public at large. That changed in 1994, when Glaser disclosed his sexual orientation during a live report on the "Channel 4 News" at KNBC-TV Los Angeles as he was reporting on the death of Elizabeth Glaser (no relation), an AIDS activist who founded the Pediatric AIDS Foundation.

Several weeks later, the Los Angeles Times published a story on the front page of its "Calendar" section about Glaser's status as one of the nation's few openly gay TV reporters.

1989 – Evan Todd is an American actor and producer.

Todd grew up in Kissimmee, Florida. He finished his senior year of high school at the North Carolina School of the Arts in Winston-Salem and later graduated from the Juilliard School. Todd also studied at Yale School of Drama and London Academy of Music and Dramatic Art.

In 2007, Todd made his big screen debut as a student in the 2007 film Sydney White. He subsequently appeared in several television films and series such as Grumpy Cat's Worst Christmas Ever (2014), Switched at Birth and Jane the Virgin. In 2014, he originated the role of Kurt Kelly in Heathers: The Musical, when the rock musical had a production Off-Broadway. The following year, Todd co-produced the 2015 Broadway revival of Spring Awakening. A critical success, the rock musical, based on the German play Spring Awakening (1891) by Frank Wedekind, was nominated for both a Tony Award and a Drama Desk Award for Outstanding Revival of a Musical.

In 2016, Todd had a leading role in the comedy film 4th Man Out about a young mechanic who comes out to his straight buddies and to his family. The film received the Audience Choice Award for Best Dramatic Feature at Outfest, and was awarded the Audience Award for Best Narrative Feature at the InsideOut LGBT Film Festival. In March 2017, Todd joined the Broadway cast of Beautiful: The Carole King Musical as King’s songwriter first husband and writing partner Gerry Goffin.

Todd is openly gay. He is the co-founder of stART and artsINSIDEOUT, two summer arts empowerment programs benefiting students from his home town as well as children affected by HIV in South Africa.

2000 – On this date Henry Stuart Matis walked up to the steps of a Mormon church in Los Altos with a note reading "Do not resuscitate" pinned to his shirt, and shot himself.

He was a 32-year-old Gay man and devoted member of the The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and after a lifetime spent struggling to reconcile the two, explained in a suicide note that "for the first time in over 20 years, I am free from my pains."

"As I believed that I was a Christian, I believed that I could never be Gay," he wrote. "Perhaps my death ... might become the catalyst for much good ... Your actions might help to save many young people's lives."

In the early morning, on the 10th anniversary of Matis' death, a group of local Mormons and others held a memorial vigil for Matis in Los Altos. Starting at Cuesta Park with songs and brief speeches, about 20 people then walked up Grant Road, carrying roses and candles. They ended up on the sidewalk in front of the LDS stake center on Grant Road in Los Altos, where they set up a small memorial display with an image of Matis' tombstone and stories about him and other Gay Mormons who have committed suicide.

Matis' body was found at the center, which serves as the headquarters for South Bay Mormon congregations, at about 7:30 a.m. on Feb. 25, 2000. Robert Rees of the Santa Cruz stake, who served as a spiritual adviser to Matis, said the event was meant "to honor a good man who eft life much earlier than he should have, whose passing was tragic but whose message was one of hope to other people." According to a statement on its Web site, the Mormon church believes that acting on "same-gender attraction" is a sin and Gay church members must remain celibate.

George Cole, a San Francisco resident who is Gay and serves on the executive committee of Affirmation, a support and advocacy group for Gay and Lesbian current and former Mormons, said he didn't know Matis personally but has "lost too many very good friends to suicide. "I know what it is like to seriously consider taking your life," he said. Cole said he left the Mormon church in 2002.

"I chose happiness and fulfillment at the cost of not having the church in my own life," he said. Matis died just a couple of weeks before Proposition 22, the anti-Gay marriage measure in 2000 that preceded 2008's Proposition 8, went before voters, and his death was often portrayed as a political statement, though Matis did not mention the initiative in his suicide note.

2007 – On this date the 79th Academy Awards were hosted by Ellen DeGeneres in Hollywood.

#gay story #history #gay history #souvenir

[tessa-quayle]

spotlight on the OFC

(fanfiction recommendations) :)

the reader insert, the second person, the y/l/n convention (which, for me, can disrupt the text and i haven’t gotten used to it - not criticizing those who do it - i'm the problem, it’s me 🤪) are all the rage in fanfiction.  i get the immersive appeal, and many of the fics i love and enjoy employ the second person.  

richly drawn original characters draw me in and capture my attention. I appreciate how creative folks get with their OFCs, the headcanons, and how they have fun showing off these OFC’s quirks and strengths and interior lives and histories.  it’s a joy to read.

here are a few great OFCs in the Pedro Pascal Character universe.  the stories are engaging and this is a fairly diverse list of OFCs (by that I mean race/ethnicity, life experience, nationality, disability).  as always, each author issues their own warnings.

listed in alphabetical order by writer:

@iamskyereads - Ezra (Prospect) x OFC Beatrice 

ongoing series (Compulsion).  love the sci-fi world-building in the first chapter. Beatrice is a sharp and compelling protagonist who’s suffered a traumatic brain injury and has PTSD.  

@intheorangebedroom - Frankie (Triple Frontier) x OFC Gabrielle 

complete series (Pleased to Meet You).  angsty intercontinental love story between everyone’s favorite pilot and a cool French woman.  the descriptions of different cities are vivid.

@jazzelsaur - Frankie (Triple Frontier) x OFC Ellie

complete series (Between the Raindrops).  the slow burn here is a smolder in the best sense.  Elliot (Ellie) is a widow who lives next door to Frankie.  the weight of grief and angst in this series is remarkable. 

@jomiddlemarch - Joel (The Last of Us) x OFC Grace

loose-fit series (On Call for the Apocalypse).  crossover with Ted Lasso.  set in Jackson WY between seasons 1 and 2, Grace is a snarky doctor (scratch a cynic, find a romantic) hanging out with Joel and Ellie  (format better on AO3)

@julesonrecord and @lunapascal ( @stardustandskycrystals) - Dieter (the Bubble) x OFC Andie 

ongoing series (Curls).  we’re rooting for Dieter and Andie amid all the drama and shenanigans surrounding a pregnancy and a wedding.  this reads like a novel you finish in one sitting.  

@ladamedusoif - Mr Ben (SNL) x OFC Lydia 

ongoing series (Visiting).  Lydia is a European art historian who goes to teach at an East Coast liberal arts college and meets the dashing Mr Ben.  delightful and smart (and I'm not just describing Mr Ben).

@radiowallet - Marcus (We Can Be Heroes) x OFC Amy

ongoing series (Eyes Open).  Single parents Marcus and Amy find love in the workplace, HR be damned.  Amy contains multitudes and the portrait of her as a mother is especially real and sweet.

@whatsnewalycat - Din (Mandalorian) x OFC Charlie

ongoing series (Passenger).  Gritty, dark, cool AU where Din Djarin is a trucker/bounty hunter and Charlie is making her way west.  this fic has a lot of postmodern energy.

@yespolkadotkitty - Pero (Great Wall) x OFC Jade

complete series (Fighting Blind).  Fun, winsome adventure between a museum curator and our favorite Spanish warrior.  Love the time-travel element, the nod to the Asian diaspora, and the rich world-building.  This series is stay-up-past-your-bedtime reading.

feel free to share your fic recs and favorite OCs/OFCs (your own and/or others)!  ❤️

#fic rec #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #frankie morales x ofc #ezra x ofc #dieter bravo x ofc #mr ben x ofc #joel miller x ofc #marcus moreno x ofc #din djarin x ofc #pero tovar x ofc #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales #ezra prospect fan #ezra prospect #dieter bravo #mr ben snl #mr ben snl fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #marcus moreno #marcus moreno fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #pero tovar #pero tovar fanfiction #yay for OFCs #trying to get better at reblogging #dieter bravo fanfiction #read these fics

[leoblooms]

Paul family lore dump

woooo ok here's the lore dump about his parents and sister under the cut! It's a little stream of conscious but yea maybe I'll edit it a smidge

Amelia and Isaac

Amelia Allen (maiden name- Kaminsky) met Isaac Allen at the same community college. He was getting his start studying for a law degree while she was getting a liberal arts degree. While somewhat differing in views, they hit it off fairly well. He found Amelia well-spoken, not putting up with getting talked down to. Both came from Jewish households, but Isaac had a more traditional upbringing that showed in his approach to religion in Paul’s childhood up until their divorce.

They eloped in 1957 after Amelia graduated, and had their first child at ages 21 (Amelia) and 23 (Isaac), Jennifer. Both were incredibly excited to have their baby girl and Amelia took to taking care of her as Isaac continued his law degree studies. Over the next six years, Isaac saw success as a corporate lawyer and their quality of living only grew. Needless to say, they were comfortable, living in a New Jersey suburb as an upper middle class family. So much so, they decided to have their second child in 1963, Paul. 

However, a year or so later Isaac grew colder and more distant. He spent less and less time with his family much to Amelia’s annoyance. 

Amelia became more outspoken of her own beliefs, becoming interested in keeping up with politics along with developing an affinity for the folk scene. She was what some would label a hippie. Isaac had little interest in politics, humoring her but not feeling one way or the other. He felt things were pretty good in terms of the opportunities he’s had even with some obstacles and hardships. He’s a believer in the bootstrap ideology and claims a lot of people should just suck it up and get a job.

This would cause heads to butt more and more especially as he withdrew from his role in the family. On nights, he’d come home and isolate in his study, listening to records and keeping to himself. Amelia on the other hand, would do her best to be there for both of their children but it wore her down. The fighting increased but they tried to not do it in front of the kids, but that wasn’t always successful. Isaac would begin to take his frustration out on Paul, as he viewed him to be too soft (despite being a child) because of him mostly hanging around Amelia and Jen. This would result in verbal abuse that made it so Paul avoided him as much as possible. Amelia of course found this to be horrible, but did little to intervene in the moment. 

This would all accumulate until around 1970 when the two filed for divorce, Amelia getting full custody of both children. Isaac had no interest in fighting her on that, ultimately being  absent from their lives post-divorce. 

Amelia did everything she could to make things as painless as possible for her kids, and through alimony they were able to still live a fairly comfortable life and send both of them to college. She didn’t try to keep much contact (outside of any legal obligations) with Isaac after everything until he reached out in 1987 to tell her he had been diagnosed with cancer and wanted to make ammends. She would let him stay with her in 1989 up until his death, cared for by hospice nurses in the guest bedroom.

Jennifer

Jennifer Allen is Paul’s older sister (6 year gap), she took on a lot of responsibilities after their dad left including babysitting Paul a lot. She’s always been protective of Paul and of course never wanted him to believe he had to fight his battles alone. After an assault in college, Paul begged her not to tell their mom and she obliged. A part of her still wishes she had, wondering if she only made things worse by not pushing him to seek help. As he got older, a rift began to form between them especially after their dad was back in the picture. Jen does her best to keep them close, and Paul similarly but there will always be something lost.

The one thing her and Paul truly disagreed on was their dad. Jen had 6 years on Paul and thus, had a different experience of their dad before things went downhill. Blinded by nostalgia, she can’t bring herself to fully hate him like Paul can so when he tries to make ammends, she scolds Paul for refusing. This has always been a thing between them, even as kids when she blamed him for the divorce. In her early teen mind, he came along and caused strain and she wasn’t afraid to tell him that. She grew past this as she got older and feels guilty for how she treated him, but doesn't broach the subject.

Jen studied fine arts and now runs her own small studio. She also volunteers a lot to help foster kids find homes, having a soft spot for them despite having no interest in having her own.

She also cannot stand Patrick and has voiced her views of him to Paul in private. But really, it's not very subtle anyway. She's happy Paul's not as in the closet but he could do better in her opinion.

Both her and Amelia know Paul's gay. Amelia walking in on Paul kissing a boy he had over in high school and Jen finding out shortly after. His mom was embarassingly supportive and both tried to coax him into living as his authentic self (something Paul doesn't truly feel he can ever have if he wants to keep his current lifestyle). Jen being bisexual can relate to Paul's conflicted feelings about this, but is nowhere near as in and out of the closet.

Other things about Paul

Paul got carsick a lot as a kid. Like he threw up more than once to the point where his mom would have to pack plastic bags and medicine.

He has curlier hair, but would straighten it in high school. In college, he let it go and by his late twenties he gelled it down.

Since he was a teen, Paul was a huge hair metal/ heavy metal fan. His favorite bands being Motley Crue and Judas Priest.

Paul would sometimes read comics with Jen, who was much more into them than Paul was.

Despite not having much of a connection to religion, he does get together with his mom and sister for Yom Kippur, Passover and the weekend nights of Hanukkah. Mostly because their mom wants to celebrate and be with them like when they were kids.

He'll never say, but he always worries about becoming his father. There are moments he can see such a thing happening, but he can't stand thinking about it too long.

#paul allen #hi lol heres the dump #lore notes #this is also just nice as ref for myself ngl

[gregnant]

my humble proposal for a dark academic life

warning! consider this satire...

cults, cults, cults,... or shall we call it a secret society? 

Discuss the books and poetry you’ve written and review it: you all know you’re the beginning flares of the newest literary movement, although your manifesto still needs work. By studying the greats like Ginsberg, Yeats, Whithman, Plath and Pound you hope to achieve greatness. 

You all choose upon yourself to study the great ancient languages, Greek and Latin. Now, when passing each other in the hallways, one simple word in Latin can do the trick. 

Select meeting spots across the university town that are given out the night before in written out letters on your doorstep. Will it be the run down pub or the hallways of an art museum? 

You worship the moon and celebrate death and renewal. You are creating your own beliefs and your system, and a book to hold on to. A self-liberation. A strict moral code to follow (or a lack thereof).

Clean and clear use of language. Language is art, art should be pure. 

Frequent practitioners of transcendental meditation and other methods to unlock parts of your conciousness. 

The objectives

understand life from all different perspectives and aspects. indulge in all it has to offer (visuals, art, music, language, writings, pain, science, philosophy, thoughts and conception, creation)

to avoid useless distractions, overflow and meaningles interactions.

feelings and thoughts aren’t in battle as they are equals. 

self comes first, in consideration of others.

everything should be experienced to gain full understanding: but not everything can be understood. 

lifestyle

a very essential aspect is to live a double life: why should you be limited to being one person? if you decide to embark on this, it is most essential to seperate your duality from others. 

read and create. next to taking in all sorts of art and literature you should make your own. interpret and revolutionize.  create art, anything that is meaningful to you and you have created, is art.

criticize and analyze everything and everyone. don’t let anything be at it’s mercy. dissect it, and don’t fear discovery (of others and of self). 

take profound interest in a subject. obsess, even to the point of unhealthiness. stay up reading all night, using coffee the next day to keep you half-awake. you don’t need much physical energy anyways. write essays to the point of fainting.  

don’t abstain from drugs & alcohol (and the like). smoke in the misty mornings or dark evenings, smoke drunk or sober. go out and indulge, but only while looking complicated enough. fill your room with empty wine bottles from the night before. become an enigma - host martini evenings and drink scotch. if hemingway did it, why shouldn’t you?

a fashion style and sense that can only by your own, carried by uniqueness. become the most eccentric individual you know. scour all the thrift stores and worn-down places to find your garments. but you have to remain in certain class, do not get worn down. wear blazers, turtlenecks, trench coats- you know the drill. expensive jewelry that carries just the right shine. 

occassionaly find a way to seperate your mind, think an out-of body experience. lay in the meadows of your college until dawn. this will keep you sane. read biblic prose, just as a way to take you back to earth. 

smoke, drink and take in other substances all you want. have that red-wine taste stained into your lips, smoking a cigarette just after class ends. go out at night and end up places you never thought of being, recovering the next day by reading latin prose. 

become a local in that one coffee place. black coffee stains the staple of your notebooks, and you only feel alive after drinking three espressos. sit at the bar or at the terrace. forget the gentrified barista-esque joint you learned to hate; think that ancient café that has been there since the 50′s with old tiling lining its walls.

always strive to be the absolute best in everything. competition can turn to blood- and you don’t mind. walk over people that stand in your way, have affairs with your proffesors if that means getting a perfect mark. you know what you want and why want it. 

social

assert youself to adhere to a certain class of people; you are to be placed nowhere, but always associated with the upper ranks. you, after all, are the academic. get invited to places noone gets invited to, talk in complicated manners that places you above the rest. fear averageness.

talk to professors and show them who you are, talk to them about connections you made while reading essays and current events, discuss older theories and the latest academic papers in your subject. become a recognizable face, and begin to use that to your advantage. don’t become the lick-up, become their left-hand man. 

you don’t need a large social circle or to be known by your peers; but become a ‘figure’. you are known by folks you’ve never even seen the faces or heard the names of. 

have a close knit friend group. but remember: only associate with equals, or people above you. it is not your goal in life to each others. no, it is to learn, it is to climb. 

most of all: remember that this probably doesn’t apply to you. such a lifestyle is only fit for such a particular class of individuals. walk along.

#dark academia #dark academia tips #dark academic aesthetic #dark academism #dark academia life #dark academia lifestyle #dark academia things #dark academia thoughts #dark academia tumblr #tsh #the secret history

[rxgeryoxng]

WHAT IS GRUESOME GRRL?

Gruesome grrl is a queering and evolution of Riotgrrrl. Gruesome grrl is for the femmes that aren't usually accepted in femme spaces. This is for the femmes that due to their transness, their brashness, and their inability to compromise, exist on the edges of what 'woman' means. Some reject womanhood outright for an alternative nonbinary trans masculinity. Some see femininity as the absolute trap that it is. These are women who reject conventional femininity for something more butch, more futch and above all else transfeminine. I don't want this to be a binary punk movement. I want this to be something for the nasty nonbinary punks that have had femininity define their identity in some powerful and violent ways. This is for nasty gruesome grrls who have had their femininity denied. For the mascs and femmes who deny feminitiy outright for their own sanity. This isn't a movement just for cis women and they/thems, and womxn. this is a movement for transfems, transmasc, nonbinary freaks, trans androgynous art hoes, messy drag queens, sexy hermaphrodites, hard kink trans sex workers, the absolute nastiest femmes and mascs and enbies with shitty attitudes. This is something for the types of weirdos that are never platformed in cis lesbian spaces let alone trans lesbian spaces. Granted I'm just some angry trans sissy dyke with a chip on her shoulder known for starting shit, and pissing and whining with the best of them. But I want to make something, a movement with actual teeth. 

Alright everyone let's be honest:

RIOTGRRRL ISN’T FUCKING WORKING

Katheleen hanna is a fucking liberal now. She’s not jumping up and down and calling out her rapist live in the middle of the college quad and calling it a song anymore. She's shown her capacity and it isn't really to progress feminism in any way that's radical anymore. Le tigre made a fucking hilary clinton song dude!? LIKE FUCK HILARY CLINTON!

 Silvia Rivera's dead. pose is a great show but I wouldn't say finding a bunch of fishy black dolls to cosplay as the house labeija is a big countercultural shift. Play dress up with the clothes more radical women left in their closets before they were laid to rest. Make all the liberal art you want but that wont stop our genocide.

It's just more of the same when your a black transfem or a gruesome grrl in any regard you see two stories played out constantly:

You either live the beautiful conventional femme. She gets her liberal ideas displayed thanks to a system that wants to affirm all her middle of the road ideas. a patriarchy of creepazoid chasers loves controlling and acquiring there own fishy doll they can use to lash out at other femmes and all the girlies to fall in line.

Or you die the radical transfem. Your name in lights after fighting and screaming and fucking and sucking your way to get the movement to finally accept you, your enemies in the millions. other women who masculinize you and make you the aggressor. patriarchal men who want to acquire you and like it better when they can pay you to be at the height of their menagerie. And of course theres the cops who want you homeless and crazy or begging for freedom till they snuff you out like a light.

SO EITHER YOU LIVE TO BE HUNTER GODDAMN SCHAFER OR YOU DIE MARSHA P FUCKING JOHNSON.

I made my choice. Im dying marsha p but my run is gonna be historic and im gonna make sure every tranny remembers the Gruesome grrls. We’ll have the genderfucks dancing and fighting and moving and writing and drawing and singing and marching till there aint a single cop, or fucked up john or crazed lesbian terfy theyfab on the street. Either learn that the craziest trannies, the ones your afraid of, the one you make rumors about, the ones that are broke and barely surviving; are the ones you need to look out for or get the fuck off my block. The freakiest trannies have always led movements in the right direction and that's always been the case historically. so why in the throws of mass genocide, truscum infighting, theyfab memery, and terf videogame franchises is it impossible for me to find a single tranny that looks looks like me? Another femme or even a transmasc or enby that looks this black this fat this loud this punk this existentially mistreated and maligned? In the streets on twitter on tiktok on facebook on tumblr not a single tranny with the same look or attitude. I refuse to believe that im this isolated. With that being said whether you identify as a girl, a boy, a cat, an eldridge lovecraftian hellbeast, or all those things at the same time (i know i do) you are now officially a Gruesome grrl! A transfem led movement for transwomen, transmascs, cis women, she/theys of any kind really anyone who's been femme  in the past, present or future. I just want to hear your stories of femininity and how it affected you, defined you or even hurt you and how you're using those lessons to fight against a shitty conformist  patriarchal heteronormative society. 

ITS GRRL NOT GRRRL THIS IS FOR THE BITCHES AND TRANNIES THAT DON'T GET THAT THIRD R! WHETHER YOUR BEING TOLD YOU DONT DESERVE THAT THIRD R OR YOU PLAINLY DON'T WANT IT THE GRUESOME GRRL TRANNIES WILL ALWAYS BE HERE FOR YOU! 

how do i join gruesome grrl?

hit me the fuck up its @gruesome_grrl on all platforms

#transcore #trans punk #queer punk #riotgrrrl #feminism #trans lesbian #lesbian #transfem #transmasc #enby #genderqueer #fuckterfs #fuck transmeds #rap #noise #zine #feminist zine #t4t #catgirl #puppyboy #femboy #roseboy