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222col · 3 months ago

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Can you please write a fanfic about shy nerd Stanford student Art being in love with reader who studies in the same college and her repeatedly rejecting him but Art pining for her and doing everything to change her mind and he only has eyes for her even though there are many girls who have crush on him and trying to seduce him and get him to like them back. And one day his best friend Patrick decides to set him on a blind date without Art knowing because he knows he would refuse so when Patrick tells him to meet a girl he thinks that they would meet for studies or something and when Art goes to that "blind date" he notices that y/n was on a date in the same place on and she realizes that she has feelings for Art because she gets jealous when she sees him with the girl but she can see that he's feeling very uncomfortable around that other girl. You can add smut and them ending up together I'M BEGGING YOU TO WRITE SOMETHING LIKE THIS 🧎‍♀️

oh my god yes yes (i changed the blind date idea a little hope thats okay!!!) i may have gone a little overboard on the length i was excited okay | 18+!!!

"c'mon, please, just say yes this time," he's pleading with you. holding your favourite flowers in his hand. part of you feels bad, rejecting him again and again. he is cute, just a little too cute for you. "art, i've told you, you're not my type." your arms are folded, he sighs and leans his head against your door frame. "will you at least accept the flowers?" his words are like whimpers. you smile sweetly at him, extending your arm. that smile is all he needs, handing you over the bouquet. you find an empty cup in your dorm room, filling it with water and placing the flowers inside. he watches your every move from the doorway. "goodbye, art" you mumble, grabbing your phone from your back pocket and laying on your bed. you don't watch him leave, he studies you for a few moments before closing your door and heading back to his own room.

"hey, art," girls flutter their lashes at him on his walk home, he always just smiles awkwardly and moves along, breaking the heart of another girl, because they just aren't you. he arrives to his dorm, collapsing on the bed. his cock twitches, he didn't even realise he was hard until that moment. must have been when your hand grazed his taking the flowers, or the sight of your hard nipples against your stanford t-shirt. his hand is already in his trousers, thinking about you bursting through his door, apologising for all the times you rejected him, kissing his whole body telling him how stupid you were for not letting him take you out. his door swings open, he comes there and then, stuck in his fantasy. "oh jesus christ art, did she say no again?"

art quickly covers himself and his mess as his cheeks blush red, patrick sits on the edge of the bed. "don't laugh," art begs, burying his head in his pillow. he can hear patrick smiling in his words, "i'm not, but christ, man, you need some pussy." patrick watches him shake his head in his pillow. "dude, i watch girls throw themselves at you nearly every day, and yet you're the only guy on campus not getting laid." art sits up, still covering himself with his blanket. "i don't want those girls, i want-" patrick just slaps his arm. "yes, i know you want her. but she doesn't want you. hey, i wonder if she's just gay or asexual or something, maybe i should try and fuck her and we'll find out." patrick says, deep in thought about this idea. art's eyes darken, "don't you fucking dare, patrick." patrick just rolls his eyes at his friend. "hey, calm down romeo, we can share." art is up now, pushing patrick out of his room, locking it behind him. "i was only joking, art, don't be so sensitive."

weeks go by, art still rushes to meet you after class, carrying your bag or books back to your room. leaving you notes and your favourite snacks outside your door late at night, bringing you a coffee some mornings. every time he sees you he asks the same question, "will you say yes, let me take you out?" it's met with a sigh by you every time, sometimes squeezing his arm or kissing his cheek to soften the blow. these acts of kindness only make art fall more and more for you. art sits in his room, studying tennis plays and doodling love notes on a thursday night. his phone lights up, a text from patrick.

meet me @ our favourite bar tomorrow night? 7pm?

art replies 'sure' and continues doodling. tomorrow comes, art does up the buttons to his pink shirt and zips up the fly of his jeans. he fluffs his hair on his way out, leaving to go meet his friend at the bar down the road. walking through the entrance into the dimly lit bar, art scans the room for patrick, only to see a blonde waving him over. he furrows his brow, slowly walking in her direction. "hey! patrick told me you'd meet me here at 7, i was a little early so i just got us both a drink, hope that's okay?" art has literally no idea what she's talking about. "what is happening right now?" he asks, his tone blunter than expected. "your friend, patrick, told me to meet you here, for our date?" art slowly sits in the chair opposite the blonde. " i was like, so surprised when he told me you wanted to go on a date because obviously i see you on campus and at tennis but like, i didn't think you'd wanna date me-" she's rambling, art cuts her off. "what's your name?" he can barely cover the boredom in his voice. "oh, um, it's lindsay. would you not already know that if you asked patrick to set us up?" she's confused, sipping her drink, red lipstick sticking to the straw.

he's thinking of an answer, debating just leaving. there's no point him being here, on this stupid date that patrick has orchestrated. he questions whether just running for the door would make him a terrible person, but as he checks the exit, he sees you. sat on a table by the window, leaning over, talking to a man he's never seen before. is this why you always said no, because you had a boyfriend? no, you would have just said that. well, now he definitely can't leave. he watches intently as your cleavage bulges over the top of your dress, laughing as you bring your drink to your mouth. you're five tables away, but you're sat facing him. "uh, art?" the blonde questions, bringing art back to the situation at hand. "sorry, uh, lucy. yeah, i guess i must have forgot talking to patrick about it all, i've been so busy with tennis."

you look so beautiful, all art can think about is ripping your little white dress off your body and fucking you over the table, right in front of the stupid guy you're on a date with. "it's lindsay," the blonde whispers, sipping her drink again. "yeah that's what i said," art's eyes revert back to the girl in front of him. he leans back, allowing more physical distance between him and lindsay, lucy, whatever her name is. your eyes scan the room, landing on art. your mouth opens slightly, he's on a date? why did part of you feel jealous, sad even, that after months of trying to win your attention, he's given up. he's moved on. you bring your focus back to your own date, trying to shake off the emotions running through your body. your eyes keep darting back to art, letting your date take over the conversation. he looks uncomfortable, leaning back on his chair, fiddling with the hem of his button up. you think how beautiful he looks in this light. you smile slightly, as his eyes meet yours. he smirks, catching you staring at him.

he watches you excuse yourself to the bathroom, your hand lightly grazing his back as you walk behind him. his breath hitches, immediately cutting the blonde girl off to go to the bathroom. you're washing your hands when art rushes into the room. "art, what are you doing, this is the ladies r-" you can't finish your sentence, his lips are on yours. you push him off you, as he just smirks down at you. fuck, that's what you wanted. no more nice little art, following you around like a lost puppy. but a tall, hot art, forcing his lips on yours, not caring about anything else but kissing your mouth. you grab him by the hair and pull his lips back onto yours, feeling him chuckle against your lips, his hands rush around your body. he pushes his tongue into your mouth, moaning as he does, his hand grabbing your body and lifting you up onto the sink. he slots himself between your legs, lips never leaving yours. you taste like perfection, everything he'd been dreaming about.

you remove your lips from his, leaning up to whisper in his ear. "take me home," you kiss and bite at his earlobe. "no, i'm gonna fuck you right here," you lean back and look up to him, the blue of his eyes overshadowed by the size of his pupils. "what if someone walks in?" you question, your lip between your teeth. "do i look like i fucking care?" you've never been so turned on in your life, neither has he. he's trying so hard not to jizz his jeans. slipping his hands under your dress, lifting you up slightly to remove your underwear. he tucks the lacy pair into his pocket, "i'm keeping these," he growls into your ear, your head leans back, hitting the mirror behind you. he positions your body at the edge of the sink, wrapping his arm around you to keep you in place. his other pushes his jeans and boxers down to his ankles, his cock hitting his stomach, finally free from the constricting fabric. you gasp at his size, he just smirks and runs his fingers through your folds. "you're fucking soaked," you blush, "don't get embarrassed, i've dreamt of making you this wet."

all you can do is grab his head and kiss him. he lines his member up with your hole, teasing your entrance. "how badly do you want it?" he pushes the tip in, "fuck- so badly, art, please," he keeps teasing you, so very slowly sliding more of his cock inside you. "you're so tight princess," he can't keep his eyes off your face, savouring every expression you make, every quiet noise that escapes your lips. he pushes himself all the way in, holding himself there. you feel even better than he ever imagined, it's the most perfect thing he's ever felt around his cock. "please, art, please fuck me," you're begging him, he's revelling in it. he's been begging for your attention for months, and now here he is, inside you, you begging him to fuck you. you buck your hips, in need of any kind of movement. "fucking hell, art, please, i'm desperate for you, i need you,"

his hands grab your ass from underneath you, pounding into you harder than you've ever been fucked before. the bathroom fills with the sound of skin slapping skin as you bury your moans into his face, arms tight around his neck. he pulls your head back by your hair, desperate to see your face as he fucks you. he moves his hand over your mouth, as much as he wants to hear every ungodly noise you make, he wants to finish inside you before getting caught. he lifts you up again, spinning around and pushing your body against the wall, your legs wrapping around his waist as he keeps pumping into you. one hand around your waist, the other on the wall keeping him steady. only making you even wetter, his strong form holding you up with just one arm. he bites down on your shoulder to stop the groans escaping him. "you're fucking mine," he whispers into the nape of your neck. you simply nod your head, not good enough, he thinks. "tell me, tell me you're mine," his words leave his lips in between thrusts.

"i'm yours, fuck, i'm all yours art," your breath is shaky as you answer, legs tightening around his waist. "that's my girl," he peppers your face in kisses, his hair sticking to the sweat on his forehead. "christ, shit, i'm so close," he mutters against your lips. "come inside me art, fuck, i'm on the pill, please baby," it's like you can see his thoughts, read his brain. he moans against your lips as thrusts once more, pushing his body up even closer against yours, your orgasm comes at the same time as arts. both mumbling profanities against each others lips. he pulls out of you, gently setting you back on the ground, still holding you, keeping you steady. you can feel his load drip from your pussy onto your thighs. he kisses your forehead repeatedly, "my god, you're so beautiful."

you shyly smile at him, leaning up to kiss his lips. the two of you return to reality, art helping clean you up, pulling up his boxers and jeans. "am i really not getting my panties back?" you ask him, giggling. "nope. these are my souvenir princess." your knees go weak again, readjusting your hair and clothes in the mirror. "christ, why did i wait so long for that?" you laugh, looking to art through the mirror. he plants a kiss on your cheek. "i knew you'd come around eventually, sweetheart." the two of you double check your appearance in the mirror, "back to mine?" art asks, still nervous for your response. you simply slip your hand into his and nod. the two of you leave the bathroom, heading towards the exit of the bar. you notice art's date has already left, yours still sat at the table waiting. "what the fuck?" is all he can muster, seeing you and art holding hands leaving the bar, laughing, art leads you back to his dorm.

"can you just wait here a sec?" he asks sweetly, pulling his keys out of his pocket. "my room's a mess." you nod, leaning on the wall next to art's door. he scrambles through the door, almost running to his desk to discard the ridiculous amount of love notes dedicated to you. he trips on his way, landing on the floor to see patrick sat on his bed. "what the fuck did you do? i set you up on a date out of the kindness of my heart, and what do you do? leave through the bathroom, you little shit! she's been blowing up my phone complaining about you." patrick hits art lightly on the head. still on the floor, art smirks. "well, i didn't actually leave through the bathroom," patrick interrupts him, "fine, so you stayed in the bathroom so long that she left, same thing!" art stands up now, "i had a very good reason to stay in the bathroom so long." patrick leans back on the bed, looking up to his smirking friend. "enlighten me," you enter art's room, having heard the whole conversation. "i think that good reason he's talking about might be me." you stand before the boys, holding your hands behind your back, faking innocence. "holy shit, you finally fucked her?" patrick jumps up, hugging his friend. "and in the bathroom, while on a date with someone else, i'm so proud."

#art donaldson fic #art donaldson smut #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson #art donaldson x you #art donalson x reader #challengers au #challengers fic #challengers smut #challengers

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trapastrology · 5 months ago

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~Astro Notes From Aris~

~11H Virgo tends to be the "mom" friend of the group. They make the schedules. Make sure everyone gets home on time & in one piece. The one who's always prepared. Make sure everyone is fed & okay. Usually, the friend ur parents will always let you go out with because they know you'll be okay.

~Sag & Pisces Mercuries (sometimes aqua) sound more attractive in their native tongue/accent to ppl. So instead of hiding ur accent, embrace it! These are usually ppl who don't ever lose their accent even if they've tried to. It will also feel more natural/comfortable as well.

~Ppl tend to be very jealous & don't believe that 2H pluto ppl deserve the good things they get/have which in return, overtime, will cause the 2H pluto person to feel this way as well.

~Aries NN usually keep the peace & avoid conflict when they should be doing the complete opposite. They will only find true peace when they learn to stand up and stop letting ppl trample them.

~7H Uranus in Solar Return doesn't always mean a breakup for a romantic breakup; it can be an ending of any relationship where you deem the person to be ur other half or y'all are just very close to one another.

~North Node in Pisces must learn forgiveness towards SELF

~For my fellow steven universe lovers, moon sq pluto synastry is equivalent to the relationship & situation between Spinel & Rose Quartz. Spinel would be the Moon person.

~12H ruler in the 3H-keep a lot of things to urself becuz more often than not ppl don't want the best for you & things will go array after you speak about it. If your 12H is in libra with the ruler in the 3H, things pertaining to relationships esp should be kept under wraps. As well as ur gifts, talents & things that bring you peace

~Air sign/house Chiron & Lilith's, were you ever bullied for being a "nerd" or having an interests that weren't the norm then but is now?

~Venus (trine/sextile) NN synastry is the way the Venus person shows love is what the NN person needs. For example, A Cap Venus's love is steady, stable, longlasting, devoted & gives true old romance which is something that a Taurus NN needs but would also be foreign to them due to their Scorpio SN. The Venus persons way of loving will bring the NN person closer towards where they need to be.

~2H/Taurus plmts are usually big cookers/bakers. Or at least they should, it's one of the many things that'll bring them peace.

~12H Libra/5H Pisces love romance/fantasy/magic/supernatural shows & movies!

~11H Cancer are the "emotional support" friend. The one you can go and talk to about your feelings, emotions and family issues. The one that is the more emotional person of the friend group & sees their friends as their family.

~Sag stells/nep-asc/1H Jup- Do people easily guess ur ethnicity or suspect ur from somewhere else? You may not know what gives it away, but someone will ask "oh are you from ____?"

Follow & Like for more!!!!!!!! Dm to book a reading with me. Dm to purchase my book on 12H synastry. Prepare for the new content aheadddddd!!!! Comment any content suggestions as well.

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elodieunderglass · 4 months ago

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It's not really my business, but honestly it feels like it would be advisable to hire a copyright lawyer. Like I don't feel like you're in it for the money, but it might be gratifying to have the guy milking your idea at least have to formally acknowledge you. I think I'd do it just for the peace of mind to know if I've been "legally" wronged or not. Either way, hope you continue to inspire, and live out a peaceful life.

(In reference to this post about the guy who pretends to have invented “Elder Teletubbies,” specifically how he is now kickstarting DnD minis of them.)

Ha, well, it’s all a little tricky I think. I might, hilariously, post on the r/legaladvice Reddit (even though they’re all cops lol) because the only thing I want here is for him to stop selling my “transformative work,” and ideally to stop pretending he invented it (which might be difficult as he appears to fully believe his work is creatively independent.)

I think if anything, my post counts as protected commentary or a transformative work of BBC’s Teletubbies, and I think it’s stinky to profit on that stuff in general (like I’m 190% okay with buying LotR fanart on stickers ! but I wouldn’t dream of trying to publish a fic with the serial numbers filed off. Why?)

I think ultimately I’m not a grifter, I’m a grownup, and I think it’s several levels of eye roll to sell fanart of a tv show on this level. I would be embarrassed to touch money made on that. I’m too fucking scrupulous and artisanal. I have toyed with a silly original novel for funsies since 2019 but keep saying things like, “oh, people will think this is too similar to something else that already exists” as if a silly original novel I write for fun has to somehow pass a Bar of Originality higher than anything salary-writers aim for.

I’m also pretty anti-intellectual-property myself in that leftist sense where I don’t believe people should be acting as if creative works are, like, oil. Like the resource extraction angle of intellectual property freaks me out, I don’t think getting super high-horse and snotty about Magical Brain Property is entirely compatible with the artisanal temperament I personally got going on here. I am like snufkin about this, simply smoking a pipe and making a flower crown saying “poor fools! Producing works for market, and serving as the guard dogs of the market, lest their work lose value if it becomes more common!” I do not have a high horse. I am not going to post 6900 words about the importance of defending fucking�� Mickey Mouse. I buy those lotr stickers on Etsy! I do have a horse, but it’s a pretty low horse.

If it was his own work I would not care about this guy doing this in the least (apart from loftily calling it stinky - but hey, nerds are common and nerds are stinky, it’s not rare) IF he wasn’t STEALING FROM MY ANTI-COMMERCIALISATION DREAM TO DO IT.

That’s the bit that PISSES ME OFF too much to ignore: that and accepting compliments for being original like 😌 yes my twisted mind did this idk lol.

Like if you asked him point blank about the artistic choices he’d be like idk my twisted mind just sees the Teletubbies this way teehee! but if you ask ME why, for example, the adult Teletubbies live in the forest I’ll explain that in 2017 I was at a major life crossroads and this dream was ABOUT that. It was goodbye to my identity as a foreigner from the pine forests, and full steam ahead to settling permanently in the fucking shire (where the baby teletubbies on the bbc show live). It was about going back to work having had my first child, and saying goodbye to my various career dreams for myself (famous scientist! Published author!) as I chose instead, finally, the responsibility of working humbly as a public servant for the actual good of society. It is about witnessing the wild and saying “I am not of it, but it is my job to be its witness and voice.” That’s why the adult Teletubbies are dancing in my native forests while I’m watching them from the English hills. This guy doesn’t know that he just vaguely heard “spooky forest cryptid” and didn’t develop it at all, I do more work than that with FANFICTION in my time off!!!

So it’s really about nebulous stuff and ethics and not something worth paying a lawyer for I think!

But thank you so much for this, I think the thing that gets most perennial about it is the TOTAL GASLIGHTING of the “outside world” of the rest of the internet like, fully believing they invented this, and they DIDNT. They’re so wrong on the internet and they don’t know

#adult Teletubbies

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emeryleewho · 2 months ago

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My latest book is live on Kickstarter with a full cover reveal!

Here are 10 Reasons you should pledge to my kickstarter (or at least reblog this post!)

If less than 0.5% of the people who've bought my previous books pledge to the paperback tier, this book would be over-funded, so it's a very doable project but I need help finding those readers again!

I launched this Kickstarter because despite being award-winning and making impressive sales, I wasn't offered a living wage for my next YA book (which went to auction) so it felt counterintuitive to sell this adult book to a publisher that doesn't appreciate me.

The book is VERY queer! It's literally a drag queen romcom. Like, come on.

If you read Meet Cute Diary or Café Con Lychee, you'll get to revisit some characters you love in this one! If you haven't read either, you can still enjoy this one because it technically stands alone!

If we get enough backers, I can upgrade everyone's copies to include more art and higher quality editions!!!

Despite doing this entirely independently, the DDTO eBooks are MUCH cheaper than what's offered for my first two books by a major publisher, and if we get this Kickstarter fully funded, I should be able to offer my paperbacks cheaper too! More access, woo!!!

Helping indie creators achieve their goals is just cool. It's innovative.

The book has Studio Ghibli references and other nerd culture! I get to name drop Lil Nas X! It's just a fun time okay!

There is a nonbinary, trans masc character that I am 99% sure Tumblr is going to lose its absolute mind over, but WE'LL NEVER KNOW IF THIS DOESN'T FUND!

Seriously, let's just stick it to the multi-billion dollar corporation that begged me for my "Meet Cute Diary" sequel only to not even offer me a living wage, like how funny would that be y'all?

Anyway, we only have until Friday October 11th to get this funded so spread it far, spread it wide, spread it through the countryside, just help me get the word out pretty please? <3

#Don't Drag This Out #Meet Cute Diary #Café Con Lychee #Emery Lee #Books #indie books #indie authors #indie projects #art #indie publishing #self publishing #publishing

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wolfiesmoon · 10 months ago

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What a fate

Ran x good girl! reader

this is a part 2 to my fic "i can't sleep", dont worry i'm feeding ur families they will no longer starve. apparently people are really into ran considering how many notes that fic of mine got (and who can blame them honestly)

unrelated but i cant believe it took me this long to get into housewife radio by ghost i love the horror vibes because of course i do

You've had a turbulent few days recently. Ever since you agreed to do that stupid dare Ran hasn't left you alone.

He did promise to do so but you didn't think he was actually serious about "making you his". How could you let this happen?

Things turned out completely opposite to what you expected, though. Instead of dragging you to his gang meeting to beat the crap out of you, he's taking you there to threaten his lackeys that if they even so much as lay a finger on his girl (you), they'd feel hell on earth.

You suppose that it's nice that he wants to protect you but you feel extremely out of place and uncomfortable at a gang meeting of all places.

Your parents think you're studying at a library right now. Somehow, you feel like you're commiting a crime.

You also met his brother at that meeting.

It seems being a good-for-nothing delinquent runs in their family. You feel sorry for their parents. If they even have them.

"Wow, I would've never thought the nerd would be your type." Rindou teased Ran. Actually, maybe it was both of you he was teasing.

"She's the one that kissed me first." Ran smirked at you.

"You're the worst. Both of you." you furrowed your brows, not finding either of them amusing in the slightest.

"Your girlfriend hates you, man. Personally I would not put up with that." Rindou seemed disinterested, checking his nails as he said that.

"I am not his girlfriend, either!" you defended yourself but Ran just looked at you like he pitied you and Rindou looked like he didn't believe you.

"Right, okay, if you say so. You two have your lover's quarrel on your own. I'm going elsewhere." Rindou just casually left, leaving you all alone with Ran in an abandoned storage unit. Oh boy.

"Umm, I should get going- ack!" you felt your wrist getting grabbed, preventing you from leaving. There's your only exit up in smoke.

"Leaving so soon? But we haven't even had our fun yet." Ran smiled at you and you honestly felt scared at that moment. Oh no, you shouldn't have yelled back at him so daringly just now. Now he's going to beat the crap out of you and drop you off in front of your parents doorstep as a warning to never mess with his gang again.

He leaned in closer and you braced yourself for the pain, but instead of that you felt his lips on yours.

Kissing...?! Again?! Well, atleast it's better than a punch to the face... You can't believe it's come to a point where you're glad to get kissed by Ran.

But still, does he have to kiss you in the least romantic place possible? Even if you did have feelings for him you'd totally find this moment cringy.

"You suck at kissing." He comments heartily, pulling away.

"I'm not the one who kisses a new girl every day. Maybe I actually have some self-respect." You crossed your arms. He was your first kiss after all.

"Every night is an exaggeration. It's like, every week." You couldn't tell if he was joking or being serious, even if you saw his expression.

"Oh, wow. Glad to know that I'll get cheated on in about 3 days. Way to make your 'girlfriend' hate you less."

"I'll stop for you." He smiled.

"Uh huh, whatever." You rolled your eyes.

Though, his kisses are actually kind of making you.... No, no! Don't fall for that! You can't believe you almost admitted that you'd fall for him if he kissed you more.

"How's it going with your new boyfriend, girl?"

"God, do not call him that." You held your forehead in frustration.

"I think he's taken a liking to you." Your friend nudged you, pointing at Ran who was sitting on the other side of the cafeteria and smiling at you as he ate.

"Great." You said sarcastically, immediately looking away when your eyes met.

"See? It ended up well. Now you have a hot bad boy boyfriend." Your friend kinda wished she'd done it instead of daring you.

"Didn't I just... ugh! I don't think my parents would agree with you." You placed your forehead on the table, groaning. "You date him if you want a bad boy so bad. But I hate you for dragging me into this." Your voice was slightly muffled.

"Yeah, we'll see. You'll be the happiest couple ever in like, two months."

You raised your head, looking back at Ran once again. You're in quite the pickle, aren't you? The next thing you know, you'll fall for Haitani Ran.

How scarily exciting.

"Hop on." Ran stopped on his bike in front of the library. How he knew you had a study session there today? Don't worry about the details.

Another motorcycle ride... You feel like you barely survived the last one.

"My parents expect me to be home in 10 minutes." You crossed your arms. You weren't lying, either.

"Who cares? Live a little." Ran rolled his eyes playfully. Clearly he isn't going to let you back down.

"I'll do it, but only if you keep it to ten minutes." He was right, backing down isn't your thing. You wonder how much resisting him you could get away with if you weren't special to him.

Special to him... huh.

"Killjoy." He insulted you lightly as you sat down in front of him. Again, neither of you are wearing a helmet. This is the last time you'll let it slide.

"I prefer to not get scolded endlessly." You held onto him tightly because you knew what was coming and didn't want to almost fall off the bike again. He felt proud when you held onto him like that.

Like you're finally his. To be honest, he didn't really care much for you until you kissed him out of nowhere like that. How bold of you, the top-of-the-class rule stickler. But he likes that. And that's why he decided to make you his.

Isn't the fact that he lets you ride on his motorcycle enough to see that?

You felt the wind blowing against your face as you set off. Now that you feel it again, it doesnt feel too bad. It's kind of nice, actually. And Ran is warm, too.

The scenery moves past the two of you and strangely, you feel really calm and at peace. It feels like your parents don't exist in this moment and that you can just... live, and feel the adrenaline of the high speed.

This is so scarily exciting.

"You look relaxed." He said, looking down at you.

"I am. And look at the road, will you?" You scolded him but your voice was still relaxed. You look up at him again.

He actually isn't that bad looking. You kind of understand why some girls would fall for him. You, on the other hand...

Are unfortunately befalling the same fate.

He didn't say anything but you had a feeling he knew you were staring.

"You look like you're in love."

"What?! How would you even know?!" You looked back at the road, hiding your face from him. You can't help but get defensive of such a thing.

God, you hate that he's right.

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rumble-aint-a-rumble-without-me · 2 months ago

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Can you do a set of headcanons of Dallas with a perfectionist reader? Like someone who stresses out before a test or beats themself up when they get a bad grade (and it's not even a bad grade, it's just slightly lower then they thought they'd get.)

A/N: Oh I liked this one. I liked it a lot- thanks for the request! Sorry it took so long!

I wrote this during my anatomy class instead of paying attention, so yeah! Hope this turns out well, I hope you guys like it-

I’m gonna do general headcanons for this one?

I’ll definitely include the scenario you gave me, but I think I’ll have more talk about this way-

In general, Dally really couldn’t give less of a crap about going to school and he honestly thinks you’re kind of a weirdo for stressing out so much about the grades you’re bringing home

He just doesn’t see the point to it, ya know? Like he’s basically a dropout, I bet you he never really goes to school anymore, so he really just can’t wrap his head around why it gets you so dialed up

He’s very unhelpful when it comes to your studies

That’s all.

He’s just unhelpful.

When you’re studying? He’ll purposely shuffle up your papers, steal your pencils, mix up your stuff and just generally be a little nuisance

He does it cause he gets bored when you’re not paying attention to him so ya know, good luck getting yourself out of that mess with him, that behavior really isn’t going anywhere anytime soon

Dal’s absolutely astounded by your grades though- all those 100s and high 90s?

That’s miles ahead of what he was getting when he was still in school and it seems like you do it so easily, just like getting good grades is in your nature

Which, ya know, circles back to kick you in the butt because the minute you bring home something in the low 90s, high 80s range, your world is absolutely wrecked and Dallas doesn’t understand at all

When you start to go bonkahs though, and run yourself into the ground just because you got one question wrong, that’s where Dally kind of steps in and really calls you out on it

He’s going to say that you’re being ridiculous and he means it, he genuinely thinks that you’re being ridiculous because why does one missed question mean so much anyway??

You guys have a big argument of course, because the one thing you should never do is tell a perfectionist that they don’t have to be perfect

So you guys fight and you sulk off to your respective places before comes back, not to properly apologize, but to take you out to the diner or drive-in or something as a faux apology

He still thinks you get a little bit ridiculous about your grades, but now he’s smart enough not to run his mouth off about it, he does get mad though if you refuse a date because you have to study, Dal, I’m sorry

Insert Mr. Winston saying whatever, if you’re studying at home, I’m just gonna sneak in your window and claim that it’s a study date

Let’s just say…studying can get very…hands on…when Dally decides he’s going to crash your lesson cramming sessions

Don’t think too hard about the phrase cramming sessions because I am NOT getting in trouble for that one but ya know….heh-

ANYWAY

Dal calls you a nerd, a bookworm, a dork, a geek, but mah boy will not hesitate to throw down if someone else calls you those things

Dallas, admittedly a little bit of a bully, does not like it when other people try and mess with you, so boy’s got you covered

I can definitely see him trying to get you to skip school, especially if he’s fresh out of the cooler or reform or something and honestly? He just wants to spend time with you, and it hurts his feelings a little when you’d rather go to school

It’s all about that perfect attendance, okay? All about that attendance record-

But maybe your last period never takes attendance anyway and maybe Dallas just so happens to be waiting outside and you just maybe get your best friend to cover for you so you can skip one class to go out with him <3

Overall?

I can see this dynamic working, at least for a little while-

Despite the fights that are bound to occur, Dallas does enjoy you being a genius and he’ll brag about you to the gang, telling Darry he needs to start hanging your report cards up on that old fridge

Dallas does his best to keep you from driving yourself to burnout and I’ve got this mental scene of you trying to teach him something you’re working on and he just kind of cuts you off in the middle of talking to give you a kiss because he hasn’t been listening to you for the past five minutes but his eyes have been locked on your lips and he’s pretty sure that he doesn’t know the answer but he knows he wants to kiss you real bad-

#the outsiders #the outsiders headcanons #the outsiders hcs #the outsiders x reader #dillo’s writing #dallas winston #dallas winston x reader #he is just a doggo

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gemini-sensei · 5 months ago

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Popular!Reader who is new to the school and is lowkey obsessed with either nerdy Eli or Miyagi Demetri and Yasmine DESPISES it but she can't leave Reader because... idk maybe she's related to one of them or something 😭

Eli or Dem is convinced its a joke of some kind and says something awful (against Miguels begging to consider that Reader might just like nerds) and omg sorry I love angst ♡

I love angst too, no worries.

Reader being Yasmine's cousin who moves to town and starts obsessing/crushing on a nerd would irk Yasmine to no end. Every time she catches Reader staring at the boys, she would say something along the lines of "omg I can't believe you, they're so uncool" and "get a grip, there are so much better guys around here." But Reader won't listen. She's sure she's found the best guy in the Valley no matter what her cousin says.

When she approaches shy!Eli and starts chatting him up, he has no idea what to do. He barely says a word and lets her do all the talking. He just stands there and listens because how is this happening right now? Is this really happening? He's not dreaming, is he?

She'll even sit with him in classes they have together, working with him every chance she gets. It's super cute. But when it comes to lunch, she sits with Yasmine and her friends. They're constantly talking and laughing, mostly because Yasmine finds it fun to laugh at people but Reader isn't so sure about the things she's saying about them. Yasmine just tuts and tells her, "You'll learn the rules of this school eventually."

Eli convinces himself that Reader isn't actually into him. He can't stand the idea that she's faking nice to him, it's somehow worse than the outright bullying he's faced all his life. While talking to his friends about it, Miguel tries to tell him that he's overthinking it because Reader seems so genuine and nice, but Demetri is there to counter every point he has, his biggest argument being "She's friends with Yasmine, the pretty, popular Queen of Mean." It doesn't help Eli with thinking Reader is actually nice and really into him.

So, thinking she's trying to make some kind of joke out of him, he thinks he should say something to her. He'd rather be shoved into a locker and called names as opposed to someone pretending to like him just to get a few laughs out of her friends.

The next time he sees her, she's a little flirty with a big smile on her face. He can't deny she's beautiful, but unlike Demetri, that isn't enough for Eli. He can't take this anymore.

She smiles at him so pretty and starts talking. "Hey, Eli! So, I was thinking about how the science fair is coming up. Since Mr. Palmer said we could get extra credit if we enter, I was hoping you could help me with my project. Just you and me-"

"L-look, just leave me alone!" he cuts her off.

The outburst is surprising to both of them. He can't believe he actually stood up to her while she's shocked by what he said. Was she being annoying? Was she bothering him? Had she completely misunderstood where they stood with each other?

She asked softly, "What?"

"I said, leave me alone," he told her, not the least bit more confident, just tired of her games. "I-I don't want to hang out with you, and I don't want to do your project f-for you. Figure it out for yourself and don't talk to me again. So you can stop a-acting nice because I know y-you're really just a bitch."

She stares at him, completely devastated. She blinks back a few tears but Eli doesn't see them because he has his head down, sure that he has a berating coming his way. But instead, Reader just says, "Okay, fine" and walks away.

She ends up crying in the bathroom not understanding what she did wrong, unaware that she didn't do anything wrong. Her makeup runs down her cheeks as she tries to calm down, missing class because she can't. Eventually, Yasmine and Moon start texting her about where she is and if she's okay, why is she missing class (because that's not like her) and what's going on? She can't even hold her phone without shaking and needing to just belt out a cry because why would Eli say something like that? Was she that overbearing and annoying to him?

By the time Yasmine and Moon find her, she's quietly sniffling into her hands because she's so confused and hurt. She asks them to take her home and they skip the rest of the school day. They ask her what happened and she tells them how she was trying to subtly get some alone time with Eli, all for him to tell her to essentially fuck off and not bother him anymore. All Yasmine and Moon hear is that he hurt her feelings and called her a bitch, and they're upset about it.

Yasmine begins saying she knew little creepy nerds like Eli are nothing but jerks and idiots. She goes on and on about it until Moon puts a hand on her arm and says something about how that isn't really helping, fresh tears streaking Reader's face as they buy ice cream and cookies to help her feel better. They end up back home where they do everything they can to make Reader forget about what Eli said with movies, but whenever it gets quiet, his words replay in her head. She's constantly trying to figure out what she did wrong, where she misstepped or misunderstood things. She starts rereading her interactions with Eli as her being overbearing with her flirting and annoying talking to him when he obviously didn't want her to because he never said anything in return.

Of course he was annoyed with me. I was too much all of the time, she thinks to herself, crying softly.

Moon hugs her and lets her cry into her shirt, trying to soothe her by rubbing her back and letting her let it out. She looks at Yasmine sadly, unsure of what else to do because this has never happened to them before. What should they do?

Yasmine is pissed. This is her cousin. Sure, she was annoyed with the way she flirted with the nerdy boy and talked about how cute he was all the time, but now that boy had crossed a line. He'd hurt by far the sweetest of her friends.

Naturally, he had to pay.

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demilypyro · 1 year ago

Text

Okay since this doesn't seem to want to go away here's me addressing every single "allegation" that I've heard about. I hope to have at least given a good explanation where the horrible things being said about me came from, and why I consider them either just totally not true or badly misconstrued. Some of my friends have recommended I don't say anything at all, but I've always preferred openness and honesty, so I hope that's appreciated.

I understand that some people will still dislike me even though the things being said about me are not true. That's fine. I don't need everyone to like me, but it's when I'm being consistently harassed and lied about that it interferes with my mental health and ability to work. So I'm gonna try and end things with this.

"She's racist"

From what I can tell this is about one time when I said I keep my interest in anime to myself around new people. I do this because showing you're a Huge Fucking Nerd right off the bat can make a bad impression. I could have said the same thing about Star Trek or comic books, I just happened to be talking about anime in that moment. Someone seems to have misconstrued this as me finding Japanese culture something shameful and lesser than other cultures?... Which I would call a total willful misinterpretation. The rest of this seems to stem just from being Dutch, because the Netherlands is a country that has a problem with xenophobia. This is true, but uhhh I'm mixed myself so I'm pretty well aware of that, and I obviously don't support our infamous "blackface holiday." Just because I live here doesn't mean I agree with everything this country does, be that historically or in the modern day.

"She's friends with racists/misogynists/transphobes"

The only thing I can guess this is about is when I was mutuals with a user called porko-rosso at least 5 years ago and didn't really believe it when people told me they were a bigot. I haven't interacted with this user in over 4 years but people still claim we're like best friends, which was never true in the first place, we just knew a lot of the same people. Most of the resentment from the people who repeatedly spread these rumours about me seems to have started here. So for the record: no, I am not friends with any racists, misogynists or transphobes.

"She thinks she's better than other trans women because she passes better"

This is just not true. This idea seems to pop up just whenever I post about enjoying the benefits of HRT or surgery, but most recently this was misconstrued from a post where I said being trans is about being yourself as much as possible. Since this was in response to someone saying that me trying to pass is "erasing my identity", people thought I meant trying to pass is the same as being good at being trans, which was not what I meant, but some people didn't seem to want to believe me when I clarified. My apologies for the misunderstanding I guess, but that's all it was. So no, I do not hate people who don't pass as well as I do, nor do I think all trans people should be transitioning medically, and I resent the implication.

"She has a secret discord server where she makes fun of pictures of other trans women and calls them slurs"

I had absolutely no clue what this was about when I first heard it. I was sent screenshots that supposedly prove this but all they show is me being rude about someone's appearance one time in january of 2022. I actually thought these were faked because I don't remember this happening and the things said confused me, but one of my friends says she found it was in her server, where she had showed a picture of someone and asked everyone present (mostly other trans women) if they were hot. Apparently I did not think they were hot. So yes, I did insult someone's appearance back in january 2022, but it was an isolated incident. Frankly even I find my remarks in these screenshots distasteful, I don't know what I was on when I wrote that stuff. I'm sorry to that person specifically. What I said has weighed heavily on me and I apologize for it. It's not something I approve of, and don't intend to repeat that mistake. Still, to say it means I hate trans women and I love to make fun of them in my secret discord server and call them slurs is just... a super-villain level of exaggeration. I didn't even know about the word that was named as an example. It's not true.

"She's often rude"

I can't deny this one. Autism gonna autism. I've seen many therapists, doctors, experts, what have you, to try and help me with this, but it seems my particular brand of autistic in combination with the cultural differences between mine and other countries just really often ends with my foot in my mouth when I speak English. I apologize! I have never meant to personally offend anyone. It just keeps happening and I can't stop it from happening.

If after reading all this, you still consider me bad enough to hate my guts, I can't stop you, but I wanted to have at least had my say. I swear that everything in this post is the honest truth as I understand it, and that I've never acted with purposeful malicious intent.

#and yes feel free to reblog and share #demilypyro #demily pyro

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toomuchracket · 8 months ago

Text

if you're too shy, part 2 (office nerd!matty x reader fluff)

remember those gigs you and matty got scheduled to cover in part 1? yeah. this is them. enjoy <3

“hey.”

matty's curls bounce as he looks up at you quickly. a mild sense of guilt gnaws at your ribs when you realise you've spooked him, but it dissipates when he smiles, visibly relaxing when he realises it's you breaking him from his concentration. “oh, hi. you alright?”

you nod, gesturing to the vacant desk next to his. “am i ok to sit here?”

“yeah, of course. no need to ask. here, let me,” matty slides his notebook out of your way; as you lay your laptop down and sit, you can see him biting back a beam from the corner of your eye, and your heart flutters. “was there anything you needed, or…? not that there has to be, you know,” he sits up straight, apology settling itself on that gorgeous face of his. “i didn't mean it like that, i just meant-”

“no, i know, matty,” you smile softly. “there is, incidentally, but also i just wanted to sit next to you.”

there he goes with the blushing again - honestly, you reckon you could make a fortune if you bottled and sold the colour of matty's cheeks when you fluster him. although, you suppose, maybe the colour is only appealing because of whose face it's on.

said face is grinning at you again. “well, feel free, anytime.”

“likewise.”

“i'll take you up on that,” matty's smile gets impossibly wider, before he catches himself and controls it a little. “so, what is it that you need from me?”

the sloppiest kiss known to man. “advice, actually,” you put your glasses on, preening internally at the way matty's breath catches in his throat as you do, and open spotify on your laptop. “where should i start with this band we're going to see twice this weekend?”

matty's face brightens even more - impossible, you'd have thought. “oh. well, do you know any of their stuff already?”

you shake your head. “very bad of me as a music journo, but no,” you smile cheekily. “this is my first time. need you to talk me through it.”

the way matty coughs and tries to pass it off as him clearing his throat at your words is delicious. to be fair to him, he recovers quickly, the only sign of him being flustered the way his cheeks periodically twitch into a smile and back down again. “alright, so… i think i’d probably start with their second album - can i?” at your approval, he slides your laptop closer to him and scrolls down the band’s spotify profile to find the album in question. “their first is good, yeah, but the second one is where they really start to define their musical identity…” he trails off, covering his mouth.

you blink in concern, leaning into him. “you okay, matty?”

“yeah, i just,” he sighs, then giggles into his hand. it’s maybe the best thing you’ve ever heard. “i realised i was starting to sound a bit like patrick bateman.”

“oh my god,” you snort, covering your own mouth as you laugh. “christ, you were. was this band’s early work too new-wave for your tastes and all?”

“little bit. i think their undisputed masterpiece is album two - literally a personal statement about the band itself,” matty smiles, then winces. “that was embarrassing.”

you shrug. “nah, i like that film. and not just because i think christian bale’s fit in it.”

“i was gonna go as him for halloween this year, actually,” matty says, nonchalantly scrolling through spotify again. “would that be weird?”

fuck. matty in a suit? potentially covered in blood? you have to readjust the way you’re sitting at the mere thought. so, naturally - “i think you should do it.”

“yeah?”

“yeah,” you smile, matching matty’s. “i’d enjoy it, at least.”

“that’s all the convincing i need,” he smiles sweetly at you, then gestures to the laptop. “so, d’you wanna know a bit about their influences before you listen?”

“go on, then.”

“alright,” matty shuffles his chair closer to you; you sit up slightly straighter as goosebumps pass over your body, increasing tenfold when he looks directly into your eyes. from this close, his are warmer than you initially realised, and you have to work extremely hard to focus on what he's saying instead of drowning in them. “to be fair, you weren't totally far-off with the new-wave joke - their music is rooted in post-punk subculture, but more along the melodic, jangly-guitar, early eighties type. you know aztec camera, yeah? convinced i saw you wear a high land, hard rain shirt to work once.”

the butterflies nesting in your stomach flutter at his recollection. “yeah, that's right. same vibe as them?”

“kinda. similar to a lot of scottish and northern bands of that era. which is weird, considering they're all about thirty and from fucking newark.”

“i see,” you nod, smiling at the way matty's twirling one of his curls. “any springsteen influence, then? not to stereotype, but… eighties-inspired music by people from new jersey? seems like there could be connection.”

matty nods enthusiastically. “yeah, great question. i mean,” he puffs air through his lips quite adorably. “lyrically, yeah, and they have quite prominent sax parts in some of the songs that are quite e street band. but the inspiration seems to be mostly melodic post-punk. does that all make sense?”

you smile, leaning on your elbow. “yeah. you're very good at explaining things. i like that about you.”

“really?” matty blushes again. “sometimes i worry that i'm just talking shite, to be honest. i know i've got a tendency to ramble a bit, always have. it annoys people, i think.”

“not me. you're always talking about something interesting. makes me feel good to talk to you.”

he clutches his hands into sweater paws again, smiling. “same. you're a sweet one, i think. m'excited that we're working a bit closer now.”

“nobody else i'd do this with, matty,” you hold out your hand, and squeeze his when he lays it atop yours; a perfect fit, you note. “you're my favourite.”

he genuinely looks like he could cry, softly rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand and speaking even softer than that. “likewise, darling.”

for a second, you do nothing but beam at each other, still tentatively holding hands; it's only when your laptop pings with an incoming email that you break out of your reverie and apart. matty clears his throat. “would you like to know which order i recommend listening to the albums in?”

“please.”

he nods. “the second, then the most recent - which is the fifth, by the way. after that, i think i'd probably say… first, third, and fourth last. that one got a bit experimental, i doubt they'll play anything from it at either of the shows. d'you want me to just make a playlist of that order for you, while we're here?”

“oh, yes please,” you watch him do just that, a slight sense of longing settling itself in your bones when you think of a playlist so sorely him settled amidst all your favourite songs; actually, it gives you an idea. “i've got a final question for you, if that's okay, matty. well, technically two.”

“yeah?” he turns to look at you again, eyes disarmingly caring and focused on you.

“what's your absolute favourite song by the band? doesn't have to be the objectively best one, and you don't have to tell me why. m'just curious.”

matty smiles, the sun breaking through clouds. “that's easy,” he scrolls down the new playlist. “this one. that's my favourite.”

“alright,” you drag it to the top of the song list. “then that's the one i'll start with. and then i'll go onto the matty-approved listening order,” pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose, you turn to face him. “that sound alright?”

“mhmm,” matty nods vigorously again, wild hair bouncing all over the place; a curl falls over his eye, and he brushes it away before peering up at you through his enviously-long lashes. “meant what i said earlier, you know. i really do think you're incredibly sweet.”

“thank you,” you all but whisper, doing your best to cover your own blushing. “um - what was i saying?”

he smiles. “you had another question, i think?”

“right, yeah. um,” your throat goes dry with sudden nerves, and you try to swallow as inconspicuous as you can to make it better. twisting your fingers together, you look down at them as you speak. “i've still got a restaurant review to do this weekend, and i was wondering if you, like, wanted to go for dinner before saturday’s show? that italian, near camden road station? and you can say no, of course, no hard feelings, but,” you can feel your cheeks burning as you tentatively look up at him. “i'd just like to hang out with you a little bit longer this weekend. i like spending time with you.”

“oh,” matty breathes, blinking as if he can’t quite believe he isn’t dreaming - you hope that’s the reason, at least. he bites his lip, cheeks rosy as he looks up at you with a smile, and nods. “yeah, i’d love that. thank you.”

“thank you, for agreeing,” you exhale, nerves replaced by tingling excitement. “is half four too early? that would give us time to eat, and walk to the roundhouse before doors, yeah?”

“that works for me,” matty nods. he twirls his hair again. “d’you want to just meet at the restaurant? cos that’s the station i’d get off at, camden road. but i don’t mind meeting you off the tube, if you like.”

“no, no, it’s alright. i’ll just get you there - i’m not gonna make you brave the high street when you don’t need to,” you giggle. “especially on a saturday afternoon, christ.”

he huffs out a laugh, but his eyes are tender - so is his voice, when he replies. “alright. i’d do it for you, though, no complaints.”

you believe him. you aren’t sure if you’ve ever seen someone look so sweetly sincere, and it’s fucking your brain up. big-time.

still, you hold it together long enough to reply. “you’re cute, healy, even if i think you’re a bit mad for offering to walk through camden just to get me,” you giggle at the way his jaw drops at the compliment. “you can get me at angel on friday, though, if you fancy? makes sense, if you’re already walking down from highbury.”

“i’ll be there at six,” matty smiles. “i’m excited to hear what you think of the band, you know. i think you’ll like them.”

“well, if you do, then i’m sure i will. you’ve got good taste,” you gather up your laptop and stand, turning to matty with a flirty grin. “speaking of - i like that jumper. you look hot in red, matty. really hot. anyway,” you bite back a grin at the little gasp he lets out. “thanks for all your help, lovely.”

“anytime!” he calls after you when you turn to walk away, deliberately swinging your hips slightly more than usual - you’re convinced you hear a muffled “fuck” before he speaks properly. “and, um, thanks for, y’know, liking my jumper.”

you look over your shoulder and wink, happiness bubbling through your body when you notice matty shifting his gaze from your ass to your face so hastily it’s a wonder his neck didn’t snap. “friday at six, yeah? don’t be late.”

“i won’t!”

and he’s true to his word - when you come up the escalators at angel station at five minutes to six on friday, matty’s leaning against the wall opposite you. he grins, a big toothy eye-crinkling smile that has your heart doing backflips, and waves as you walk over to him. “hi! i like your jacket.”

“oh, thank you,” you self-consciously touch the fluffy collar. “have you been waiting long?”

“not really. ten minutes?”

“that’s not too bad. shall we?” you wander out into the chilly evening air, matty matching pace beside you. “you ever been to a show here before?”

“yeah. what a fucking weird venue,” matty steps closer to you to avoid being run over by a bike, and your heart flutters; you’re actually sad when he moves away. “i like it inside, but-”

“the fact it’s literally in the middle of a shopping centre is insane?”

“completely mental.”

“a really strange bit of urban planning,” you smile, turning to him as you wait at a set of traffic lights. “i listened to the playlist you made me, by the way. even learned some of the words.”

matty laughs. “you like them, then? that’s good. knew you would, though.”

you nod, fighting the urge to grab his hand as you cross the road. “played your favourite song about ten times on loop. i had no idea it was going to end up being a love song, by the way…”

“yeah, the title’s a bit misleading.”

“...but it really works. i can see why it’s your favourite,” you gently nudge your shoulder into his arm. “like i said the other day, you’ve got good taste.”

he looks down at the pavement, smiling, then at you. fuck, he’s so cute. “so do you, darling,” he says, voice so soft you can hardly hear it over the bustle around you. “i really like your outfit.”

the hour spent upending your entire wardrobe onto your bed to pick it out was absolutely worth it. “thank you. i figured, y’know, since i’m technically not working,” you smirk at him. “i’d make the effort for going out. tomorrow, though, when i’m on-shift? not a chance.”

“you’ll still look great, i reckon,” matty says, easy as breathing; ironically, the ease of his words practically stops your own breath. “and yeah, i s’pose you really aren’t working tonight. when was the last time you went to a gig just for fun?”

“it’s been a while,” you admit. “and i miss it, actually, getting to just experience new artists without having to analyse and critique them. that’s part of the reason i’m excited to be going tonight.”

“i get that,” matty nods as you turn into the venue entrance. “and what’s the other part?”

you grin. “the fact i’m going with you.”

once again, matty blushes. “if you keep throwing me off with compliments the whole night, i literally won’t get any work done. but thank you. m’glad you agreed to come with me tonight.”

“i’m glad you asked,” you turn to him once you join the line to get in. “and you’ll get your work done, don’t worry. i promise to be good.”

for the most part, you actually succeed at that, and it’s largely due to how bloody good the band are. for all the venue is in a weird place, it really is a decent one - it’s so intimate that even you, who only started listening to the artists onstage this week, feel like a proper part of it. and, free of note-taking responsibilities, you can allow yourself to be made giddy by the coloured lights and loud melodies, to dance as best you can on the sticky floor, to sing along to the scraps of lyrics you recognise and join in the backing vocals with the rest of the crowd. that was always your favourite part of a concert, the moments where hundreds of voices just worked as one, identities dropping and merging to prioritise the music; it’s nice to be in it, for once, rather than doing your best to observe and capture and convey it in words. you leave that to matty, and mostly leave him be aside from the odd smile and laugh, always responded to warmly by him.

that is, until they play his favourite song, and the boy beside you becomes impossible to ignore.

the singer says something about this being the last song of the night, before beginning the now-familiar melody on his guitar. matty’s head snaps up at the first few notes, and his notebook snaps shut; you turn to him at the noise, smiling at the excitement on his face, even more radiant than usual under the pink lighting. he looks at you with a matching smile, curls bouncing as he nods along to the music, before turning back rapt towards the stage. you follow suit, soaking up the lyrics about wanting and yearning and falling fast for someone - hearing those words with that person beside you sends goosebumps shooting across your skin and sparks through your nervous system, the same kind of kinetic energy crackling in the space between you and matty. it’s so strong you have to uncross your arms, stretching your fingers out by your side. mortifyingly, they brush against the back of matty’s hand, and the sparks become shockwaves; not so much born out of fear, but of the same kind of longing the singer is musing about. he doesn’t seem to mind the contact, hand staying put despite it, and something in your brain just says fuck it and snaps.

tentatively, more so than you think you’ve ever been before, you loop your fingers around matty’s, and you hold his hand. and, quite honestly, nothing has ever felt quite so right as this. the shockwaves in your nervous system fade to a gentle hum, kinda like the reverb from the speakers, with only a tiny jolt when matty gently squeezes your hand in response.that’s how you stay for the rest of the song, hand-in-hand facing the stage, both of you - unbeknownst to the other - smiling contentedly and mouthing the lyrics to the song you relate to.

it lasts a sickeningly short amount of time, though - as soon as the song ends, you and matty are all but pulled apart by a group of kids running towards the stage, shouting about setlists and drumsticks and god knows what else. matty chuckles, walking backwards towards the exit so he can talk to you. "that was good.”

“yeah,” you agree, although you’re not sure what he’s specifically referring to. “liked it a lot.”

“me too.”

there’s comfortable silence as you weave your way out of the venue and onto the street. you turn to say a reluctant goodbye to matty, but he beats you to it. “i’ll walk you to the station.”

“are you sure? you’ve got a bit of a walk in the other direction, matty.”

he shrugs. “it’s a nice night. i don’t mind.”

“cool,” you do your best to keep from smiling at the thought of an extra five minutes with him. “thank you.”

“s'alright,” matty smiles, leading the way down the street. “i've had a lot of fun tonight.”

“yeah, same here. they're really good!”

“aren't they? i'm excited to see their set tomorrow, see how it compares,” he hums happily. “i think this is gonna turn out to be a really good article, you know.”

“so do i,” you beam at him. “and i must say, i'm enjoying the process for this one much more than i have in a while.”

he giggles, and you have to fight the urge to hold his hand again. “well, if you think about it,” matty rubs his thumb over his bottom lip quite attractively. “it makes a lot more sense for us to do gig reviews together. music is something to be shared, after all, and live music especially, and so are our reviews - we probably get a better sense of it all if we're not by ourselves, don't you think?”

you don't even bother trying to hide how enamoured you are when you look at him. “i love the way your brain works, matty.”

“oh, shush,” he clutches the sleeves of his jacket over his hands, but beams anyway; it drops from his face when he notices the tube station sign up ahead. “well, i suppose this is where i leave you.”

the melancholia in his voice makes your heart sink. “yeah, i guess,” you sigh. “but not for long, though.”

“true,” matty's face brightens, and he reaches to take your hand and squeeze it gently. “thanks for coming, darling. i had a lot of fun.”

“thank you for having me,” you squeeze his hand in return, smiling at the way he looks down at your connected fingers in wonder. “text me when you get home?”

“of course. you too, please.”

“i will,” you let go of matty, pausing before you turn to walk away; quicker than your brain can convince you otherwise, you lean up to press a kiss to his soft cheek, before winking at his dazed expression and turning towards the station. “see you tomorrow, lovely.”

“bye,” comes the soft, delayed reply. you turn back to wave once you reach the escalator, then smile giddily to yourself the whole way home.

in fact, you don't think you stop smiling giddily for the rest of the night, or the next day; just the knowledge that you're going to see matty again keeps you in a state of sunniness, has you dancing around the flat and serenading your dog, who just looks at you like you're insane. a tiny part of your brain agrees with her, but how can you be expected to help it? you haven't been this excited to go on a date with someone in a long, long time.

well, it's not a date, officially. but walking into a dimly-lit italian restaurant with matty in tow, him taking your jacket and pulling your chair out for you like a perfect gentleman? it fucking feels like it. you wish it was.

even more so when he takes his own jacket off, revealing A) a short-sleeved shirt in the same colour of red you told him he looked hot in the other day, worn slightly open over a white tank; B) almost-unbelievably muscular arms; C) tattoos littered up said arms, and one on his chest just peeking out suggestively.

jesus fucking christ.

you can’t help but stare at matty, mouth agape, as he sits down. he giggles nervously when he notices. “what?”

the words leave your mouth before you can even think about stopping them. “matty… do you know how hot you are?”

he does the adorable blinking thing again. “you think i’m hot? me?”

“um, yeah, i have eyes,” you giggle, cheeks burning. keep it together, you stupid slut. “i didn’t know you had all those tattoos, actually. why don’t you show them off more?”

matty shrugs. “sometimes, people think if you have lots of tattoos, you’re like, i don’t know… scary, or unapproachable,” he opens the drinks menu. “that’s not the impression i wanna give off, you know? especially at work. like, you know me, i’m quite soft and quiet. i just think the tattoos look sick.”

god, you want to eat him alive.

“i understand,” you nod, leaning on your elbows. “and i also think they look sick. kinda sexy, i’d say, to be honest. anyway,” you bite back a smirk at matty’s flustered expression. “what sort of drink are you in the mood for?”

“oh, well… i don’t know, actually,” matty scans the menu, then meets your eyes. “i’m new to this sort of reviewing. what do you usually do first? talk me through it,” he must mistake your wide eyes after his last statement for horror, instead of slight arousal. “please.”

“okay. can i see the menu, please? right, fab, thanks,” you hold it open so you can both see the drinks list. “shit, this is extensive… reasonably priced, would you say?”

“for this part of london? yeah.”

“i agree. right,” you look at him, and the concentration with which he looks back almost throws you off. “because we haven’t picked out food and don’t know about flavour palettes yet, i’d avoid wine for the time being. anything too flavoured, actually - i reckon our best bets are either some sort of fairly neutral cocktail, or a spirit and clear mixer. you know, vodka soda, a g&t, that kind of thing.”

matty nods. “makes sense.”

“yeah. the exception to all of that, in my opinion, is champagne,” you smile. “but if i start drinking it, i won’t want to stop, and if i kick the arse out of this meal on the work credit card then marianne will kick mine, so…”

he laughs, and the warmth of it goes straight to your stomach. “classy girl,” he smiles, laughing even harder when you make a face. “well, i think you are. and,” he points at the menu. “i also think we should have negronis.”

“nice. alright, let’s move on to food,” you open another menu. “oh, thank god we came here so early - this decision might take me a while. sorry.”

matty smiles, the tenderness in his eyes only exacerbated by the flickering candlelight. “that’s alright, darling. we’ll take all the time you need. well,” he winces. “maybe keep it within the two and a half hours we’ve got until we need to leave for the gig. although i s’pose we could stay here another fifteen minutes if we got a taxi.”

you wave insouciantly. “we’ll be on time. and you’ll have fun, too. promise.”

“oh, i don’t doubt that.”

and you really do have fun, despite having to constantly remind yourself that you’re not on a date and are in fact at work. the two negronis you each have over the course of the meal continue to coax matty out of his shell - and thus, get you to fall even harder for him than you already have, which to be honest you didn’t think was possible after seeing his tattoos - to the point where he’s affectionately taking the piss out of you for stealing forkfuls of his dinner “for journalistic purposes”. but, all in all, he’s completely fascinated by the process of forming your review, taking interest in the subtleties of what makes somewhere good versus great, and marvelling at the breadth of your culinary knowledge (which you’re actually very proud of, being self-taught and all); he’s still raving about it as you walk - with plenty of time to spare, mind you - along chalk farm road towards the roundhouse. “i actually don’t know what i’m more impressed with, you or the food. genuinely. you’re incredible. and to think i was going to make you soup!”

you frown. “past tense? why?”

“you know too much about food. i won’t be able to impress you.”

“matty,” you turn to look at him, wide-eyed and crestfallen. “that’s not true at all!”

he scoffs, but not harshly. “come on, babe,” the nickname does something funny to your stomach. “i’m not upset about it, just thinking realistically. how is my nana’s carrot and coriander recipe gonna stack up against michelin-starred minestrone, or whatever? not at all, that’s how. and that’s alright!”

“matty. matty - alright, fine,” you clear your throat, stopping and standing with your hands on your hips. “matthew. listen to me, and listen good, yeah? right,” when he nods, blinking those pretty eyes, you continue. “soup is a whole different thing - in fact, all domestic cooking is, especially if you’re making something for someone you care about. i don’t want to be impressed by the technique, i want to be nourished. cared for. dare i say, healed. and, in that regard, i have no doubt that your nana’s recipe would fucking decimate any posh restaurant soup. alright?”

he nods, shyly peeking through his eyelashes. “alright.”

“thank you.”

the walk continues, silent for a few minutes until matty talks again. “you know,” he says, smile audible in his voice. “i didn’t think i’d find being lectured about soup sexy. and yet…”

“oh my god, stop it,” you giggle, although you’re simultaneously fighting the urge to skip along the path and secretly filing that piece of matty information away in your mind. just in case. “thanks, though.”

he shrugs, smirking. you’re into it. “just telling the truth. it’s my job, after all.”

“and here i thought you were flirting with me,” you smirk back. “shame,” you wink, speeding up slightly towards the venue; you drop into serious mode when you see several different door queues. “shit. where do we go, with the press passes?”

matty hums, looking around. suddenly, he takes your hand, gently leading you to a side door; you’re quite content with this, a sort-of fuzzy feeling overcoming you, so much so that you barely register him talking. “here we are. you ready, darling?”

you nod happily at him. “round two. let’s go.”

the night, at first, progresses a lot like the previous one - you spend the opening set dancing, singing along to the songs you know pretty well by now, leaning in to talk to matty about any discrepancies you see in performance between both nights while he diligently takes notes. when they close with his favourite song, again, you’re slightly dismayed that he continues to write, and you can’t repeat the hand-holding; pretty much as soon as you’ve thought that, though, matty leans into you to rest his head on yours and sing along to the lyrics, and the room seems to get brighter. out of both desire and necessity (you know how clumsy he is), you wrap an arm around matty’s waist, and you swear you can hear him smile. it’s warm, sweet, intimate without being weird, and you really don’t want to let go of him. ever.

eventually, once the song ends and the house lights come up in the break between sets, you do, pulling your notebook from your jacket pocket with a sigh. matty straightens up, stretches with a groan that should not be as attractive as it was to you, and smiles. “pasta tiredness hitting you too?”

“little bit,” you wince. “maybe dinner then dancing was a bad idea.”

he shakes his head. “nah. it’s been fun. i’ve really enjoyed it.”

“i’m glad to hear that,” you smile at him. “wouldn’t mind making a habit of it, actually.”

“really?” matty beams. “neither would i. maybe we can pitch it to marianne as an actual segment. like, restaurant pairings with gigs, potentially highlight local places near the venues we go to. yeah?”

it’s a fucking great idea. he goes all bashful when you tell him as much. “cool. we can maybe see her about it on monday, if she’s in.”

you nod. “of course. come and find me on monday morning, and we can come up with a proper pitch while we get this piece done, alright?”

“‘course,” matty nods, smiling when the lights drop and the audience scream. “right, i’ll leave you to your notes.”

“cheers,” you reply, reluctantly turning towards the stage. it isn’t that the gig is bad, at all - as you wrote in your notes, the band are talented, charismatic, well-rehearsed. it’s just extremely difficult to focus on them and your notebook when you have the boy of your dreams beside you, close enough to touch and kiss and dance with, singing along happily and doing a dorky little two-step that makes his hair bounce quite beautifully. every so often, the urge to turn and smile at him becomes too much to resist, and matty goes visibly - adorably - pink under the stark white lighting every single time he makes eye contact with you.

by the time the gig ends, you’re dead certain: you are down so incredibly deeply bad for matty healy, and you need to tell him as soon as possible.

as it turns out, the opportunity for that happens extremely quickly once you’re both out of the venue, talking and laughing and dissecting the show even further than you did in your respective notebooks as you leave, and it’s so romance-media smooth that you genuinely think a higher power might be involved. perhaps an apology from the universe by having a group of teenagers push you and matty apart at yesterday’s gig, this time a group of them push you closer together, bolting past you and screaming about catching the bus home - matty tugs you into him to stop you being completely bowled over, and turns so the two of you are right next to the building instead of in the firing line out in the open. his hands are warm against your waist and lower back, and so is his neck under your clasped hands; you have no recollection of putting them there, but you sure as shit aren’t going to move them anytime soon. if you did that, you’d further the distance between you, and why on earth would you want to do that, when you’re so close you can’t tell whose breath cloud is whose and the little flecks of gold in his dark eyes are visible to you for the first time?

no. you’ll stay as you are, thank you very much.

“you know that thing we were going to pitch to marianne at work on monday?” you whisper, heart pounding as you notice matty’s eyes flick to your lips. “the thing we want to make a habit of?”

“yeah,” matty breathes, the words so close to your lips you can practically taste them. “what about it?”

your lips part, and you take a shaky breath before you reply. “well, the thing is,” you bite your lip, and his pupils dilate. “i don’t think i want it to be a work thing, matty.”

a beat passes before he responds. “neither do i.”

thank fuck.

your eyes close in contentment. “matty?”

“yeah, darling?”

you reopen them, looking up at him - for the probably millionth time in two days, you don’t bother trying to hide the feeling in your gaze. “kiss me.”

that gorgeous face above yours cracks into a smile. “alright.”

and he does.

it’s exactly how you imagined he would be - a little bit sloppy, tentative with tongue, but so eager and giggly and just so caring that it doesn’t matter. on instinct, your hand roots itself in matty’s curls, and the little whine he lets out is probably enough to fuel your bedtime fantasies for a fortnight by itself. you smile into him, tracing your tongue around his lips before sucking on the bottom one and releasing it slowly. your head is spinning, from matty more than lack of oxygen, and you honestly don’t think you’ve ever been happier post-kiss in your life.

there’s a happy silence for a minute, save the two of you gasping for breath, broken by matty kissing you quickly again and grinning. “hi. and, also, wow.”

“indeed,” you beam up at him, gently twisting those pretty curls around your fingers. “you might’ve figured it out by now, but… i like you, in a more-than-platonic sense.”

“the kiss gave it away, yeah,” he giggles breathily. “i take it there’s no policy at work about making out with your colleagues? or, y’know, taking them out on actual, unrelated-to-work dates?”

“no such thing.”

matty smiles, pulling you in for another kiss. “well, thank christ for that.”

#mads muses #mads does writing #office nerd au #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fluff #matty healy x reader #matty x reader

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bitterkarella · 2 months ago

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Midnight Pals: Sssspace Ssstory 2

JK Rowling: i don't need you lot! Rowling: i don't need any of you! Rowling: i'm gonna go over to sspace coven to tell my new sstory! Barker: yeah have fun with that Rowling: I will!! Barker: they're all a bunch of nerds over there! Poe: now clive that's not very fair Barker: she's gonna find it out soon enough

[meanwhile, at space coven] JK Rowling: hello children Jules Verne: welcome, JK Rowling! I've been informed that you're the first woman ever to write science fiction Verne: so we're proud to make you a member of our very select group Verne: welcome to super friends!!!

Verne: i am called Ham because I enjoy ham radio Verne: [pointing to HG Wells] this is email Verne: [pointing to Isaac Asimov] cosine Verne: [pointing to Robert Heinlein] report card Verne: [pointing to Frank Herbert] mescaline Verne: [pointing to Mary Shelley] and Mary

HG Wells: [arriving in a steam-powered dirigible] excelsior, fellow space-ka-teers! HG Wells: it is I, HG Wells, chrononaut extradinaire! Wells: i am simply a-quiver to hear some new story and- Wells: oh crap, the gears fell off my top hat Jules Verne: don't worry, my good man, you can borrow some of mine!

Rowling: ok sso here'ss my futurisstic sstory Verne: whoa you can't start a story like that! Rowling: oh? oh right, ssorry Rowling: i meant 'ssubmitted for the approval of sspace coven, i call-' Verne: no i mean you're not wearing any goggles Wells: every super friend must wear at least 3 pairs of goggles at all times Verne: it's the law!

Verne: won't you enjoy some of our "mind control cookies" ho ho ho Rowling: what Verne: oh i'm sorry are you not familiar with the music of dr steel??? Verne: he's ONLY our favorite musician Rowling: Verne: OMG you've GOT to listen to People of Earth Verne: it's SO funny Verne: we're all members of the army of toy soldiers Rowling:

Verne: [playing Dr Steel album] haha ok so this is my favorite part coming up HG Wells: are you playing dr steel? turn that hack off! Rowling: oh thank god Wells: you should be playing Aurelio Voltaire!

Verne: Dr steel! Wells: Voltaire! Verne: Dr steel! Wells: Voltaire! Rowling: I've been insspired Rowling: my next book is going to be a manifessto against the FuMP

Rowling: today i have an exciting new story for you! Rowling: those plebss over at midnight society couldn't appreciate this Rowling: FUTURISTIC story! Rowling: i think you sci fi people will really get this Wells: huzzah! Verne: huzzah!

Rowling: okay so Rowling: just imagine Rowling: a future world where a totalitarian government made up of blue-haired spoonies and their antifa goon squad Rowling: have made it illegal to be cis Rowling: one lone heroic terf is fighting for her right to be a gold star lesbian

Rowling: sssee, in the future, an evil coalition of trans autistic fat people Rowling: force innocent lesbians to put pronouns in their bios Rowling: or get sent to the woke gulag! Rowling: where they're forced to apologize for their privilege! HG Wells: i didn't understand any of that

Wells: i don't understand any of that Verne: me neither Robert Heinlein: me neither Heinlein: except that one bit about a lesbian being involved Heinlein: i did understand that word Heinlein: and frankly i think i would like to hear more about lesbians

#midnight pals #the midnight society #midnight society #edgar allan poe #clive barker #jk rowling #hg wells #jules verne #robert heinlein

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liesmyth · 2 years ago

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locked tomb characters ranked by how cringe they are

because this post by @wifegideonnav reminded me that they’re all losers, but some are even more losers than the others

Hot Sauce: 1/10. This girl is cool in all possible ways and definitely future lead researcher material. No cringe, zero notes.

Pyrrha: 2/10. By far the least cringe of The Olds. Yes her nicknames for Nona have dad joke energy but she’s very earnest about it and it’s cute.

Juno Zeta: 2/10. Total MILF. Very smart and should know better than to get flirty with We Suffer, but I get it.

Marta Dyas: 3/10. A complete badass with a very sensible outlook on avoiding unnecessary forms. Call me Judith because I would also make a pass at her at the first possible chance.

Commander Wake: 3/10. She made Pyrrha fall in love with her, seduced ever-loyal G1deon into hatefucking and galvanized a dying resistance movement. She was genuinely nice to Gideon those 3 seconds they interacted in passing! Then she had to go and hide under the bed of a mentally ill teenager.

Dulcinea: 4/10. Her horniness for revenge is epic. Let down Pal as nicely as she could and managed to outwit Cytherea when it mattered. Not cringe at all.

Camilla: 4/10. Yes, she could kill you in seconds but she did once sell cigarettes, her most liquid asset, for about a third of their market value.

Alecto: 4/10. Scary eldritch woman-shaped creature with a sword, comes highly recommended by Pyrrha Dve. Loses points for confusing Middle English and thinking John was the best possible Sailor Earth when he was clearly the worst.

G1deon: 5/10. Utterly willing to burn for what he believes in. Yes, he probably needs some perspective but he made sure the baby had enough air before kicking Wake out of the airlock and Matthias Nonius thinks he’s an okay dude.

Pash: 5/10. She has that freedom fighter swag and the cool hair but she is a terrible bodyguard coasting on nepotism, sorry to say.

Palamedes: 6/10. He didn’t clock the serial killer pretending to be his ex because he was too busy going to painfully extreme lengths to avoid interacting with her.

Naberius: 6/10. My controversial opinion is that Babs is the least cringe of the Third House throuple. Yes he looks and acts like a peacock but he puts up with Corona snacking on him for no reason and is still nice to her, and gives Ianthe solid romantic advice.

Nona: 6/10. Cringe in the unselfconscious way of a young teenager, and put this ability to use making Pal fess up to his nurse kink. She will never be cool but it’s part of her appeal.

Mercymorn: 7/10. Speaks in onomatopoeias. She knows she is insufferable so she’s gonna do her best to make sure to be the most insufferable person in every room. Once called John Gaius “the best man I who ever lived” to his smug face and not even blowing him up later makes up for that.

Ianthe: 7/10. Looks like a wet rat. Hopelessly dramatic but she pulls it off. Declares her love for Harrow at every turn in the most transparent possible way then pretends she’s just being snarky. Some cool points for actually getting shit done

Coronabeth: 7/10. Terrible taste in love interests. Her freedom fighter era was hot but she thinks pompadour hair is a good look? Also, the way she spent her whole life lying about necromancy speaks of extreme conflict avoidance. Cringe move.

Judith: 7/10. She deserved to suffer and has suffered more than she deserves. It’s cringe how she clings to her imperialist brainwashing but she gets a point for rightfully understanding she should be wary of Corona, something Ianthe still can’t even grasp.

Ortus: 7/10. Yes he quotes his own epic poetry WIP at people but he also had to grow up on the Ninth with nothing better to do. Genuinely a very nice guy.

Cytherea: 8/10. Her unhinged vibes are very hot but she killed a couple of nerds and two teenagers instead of anyone who was actually dangerous. Cringe of her!

Silas: 8/10. Smarmy cloud-looking motherfucker. He is a child Pope and I guess he can’t help the inherent cringe of the Eight. But that’s still no excuse for bringing a portrait of John all the way to Canaan House just to hang it in your bedroom, dude.

Gideon: 8/10. Babygirl is a horny virgin with the vocabulary of a nerd. Harrow is bones over tit in love with her and she fails to notice after living in Harrow’s brain for eight months. Gets points for managing to maintain impressive biceps on a diet with no protein.

Augustine: 9/10. Extremely cringe because of how hard he tries to pretend he’s not cringe. Cigarettes on a space station and effectively performing swag don’t make up for how much he clearly wants to suck John’s dick. Which he did at least twice.

Harrow: 10/10. Spent most of her life being mean to Gideon because she was too hot to deal with and lobotomized a coffee shop AU into existence. Thinks Ianthe Tridentarius is beautiful. Once built a bone cocoon to sleep in after not drinking water for two days. Should’ve told God months ago that she just didn’t want to eat his fucking biscuits and stop offering.

John: 10/10. Unfortunately, this scale only goes up to 10 but we all know it’s not enough. Deeply cringe in a myriad of ways, chiefly among them the way he inflicts his barely veiled incest kink on all his friends. That one dad joke was gold, though.

This was getting too long but for the record: Aiglamene is cool and so is Abigail Pent. Magnus is not cool but he’s a fun time. The Terrible Teens are exempt from judgement on account of being 14.

#i wrote this on my phone on the metro spelling what's spelling #will this finally be the post I send to L. to convince her to read the books?#tlt memes #the locked tomb #tlt

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mulletpermsicantlookaway · 5 months ago

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The Cupbearer, Part 2

This is my continuation from where @joshslater left off. The original is reblogged here as well.

Day 4, 9:28

As Tyler looked on, I put the sealed cup in my backpack. I was about to leave, but then I turned and really looked at him, trying to figure out what was going on.

“Honestly, Tyler, is there anything left of you in there? I mean, do you still care about me at all, or do you just care about me getting Steve with this…this thing?”

For a second, his cocky smirk vanished. He almost looked thoughtful. Maybe he was.

“Bro, it’s not as if I didn’t try to warn you. Why do you think I was avoiding you? You shouldn’t have pushed me so hard. I got angry and lost it, and believe me, bro, I can get super aggressive now, super fast. You weren’t on the list yet. You were safe. Probably.”

“But you were my best friend! I couldn’t just desert you, not after all we’d been for each other, not without finding out why!”

“Look, bro, now you know why, mostly. Even if I’d wanted, it’s not as if I could have just hung out with you like before. And after I – changed – you and I didn’t have anything in common anymore. Seriously, dude, you have no idea how fucking annoying you nerds are! Every time I see one of you – even, even you – I just want to stuff you in a locker. Do I remember being your friend? Is that what you want to know? I do. I’m sorry. For all the fat lot of good it does us now. But cheer up! You and I’ll be friends again now, bro. Real soon.”

Damn. I felt sorry for him, but that hateful, cocky smirk was back, and I wanted to slap that stupid smile off his face. Maybe he was a victim, but he didn’t look like one. He and I will be friends again soon? I couldn’t help it; I started crying again as I realized what was going to happen to me.

“I hate you so fucking much, Tyler. And I’m going to end up just like you, aren’t I? A big brute with a cocky smile, ready to terrorize any nerd that comes along. ‘You will be assimilated. Resistance is futile.’ Damn! Fuck! I should just end this now and jump off a bridge or run out in front of a bus or something. Then this nightmare would finally be fucking over!

Tyler suddenly grabbed me by my shoulders. Hard. His eyes bored into mine. He let go his right hand long enough to smack my face before grabbing me even tighter. Shit, he was strong now! There was no way I could move. My face stung.

“Dude, seriously, none of that! DO NOT EVEN THINK ABOUT IT! Stop it now! Trust me. Don’t try. It won’t work.”

He didn’t look so cocky now, but I wasn’t sure if he was worried about me or what. He still gripped me so hard I couldn’t move. Between sobs, I said: “How do you know it won’t work?”

The look in his eyes intensified. Was it anger? Pain? Fear? Was he afraid of what I might do, or was something else going on? I said, “No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. But can you at least tell me what it’s gonna be like? Can you tell me if I’ve got anything to fucking live for?”

“Bro, I wish I could. I do. But I can’t explain it the way you want. You’ll have to find out for yourself. I’m sorry. I truly am. Believe me, bro, I just don’t remember much about what happened.”

“But are you happy now, Tyler?” I said, still sobbing. “I mean, you look great and all that, as big dumb brutes go. You’re as strong as an ox, and you seem happy enough, going out with Brittney and hanging out with the guys and all that. Look, I just need to know that I’ll be okay. I just need to know that there’s some hope that I won’t be miserable for the rest of my life.”

Tyler relaxed his grip a tiny bit.

“Look, bro, if that’s what you really want to know – yes, you’ll be okay. You’ll be better than okay. You will. You’ll probably be happier than you’ve ever been. I am. But you’re not there yet. And the sooner you find Steve and do what you need to, the sooner you’ll be done. Because you’re right about one thing – resistance is futile.”

“Nerding out on me, eh, jock boy? Yeah, resistance is futile, all right. I know.”

I sighed and stopped sobbing. Tyler released his grip and pushed me away. I think he was trying to be gentle about it, but I still staggered a bit. The jock boy didn’t know his own strength yet. I rubbed my sore cheek gingerly. With that unreadable look still on his face, he said quietly:

“I’ll tell you another secret. Girls will never admit it, but they really like – how did you put it – big dumb brutes? And some boys do, too. Anyway, bro, it’s high time for both of us to be out of here before someone comes looking. Now go! Just don’t do anything stupid. You know what I mean – don’t think about doing any of those things you were talking about. Text me if you have to. Now fucking get out of here or I really will have to beat you up, while I still can, anyway.

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Tyler smirked at me. The unreadable look was gone, as if it had never been, and the cocky asshole was back. “Bro, you’re already starting to turn. Maybe you haven’t noticed. Now get lost! See you soon.”

Day 4, 10:42

That talk with Tyler gave me a lot to think about, and I’m not sure if I feel better or worse. It’s nice to have some hope that I’ll be happy again. And I think I got a glimpse of the old Tyler inside the hulking, arrogant jock that he’s become. Part of him seems to care about me still. But I was hoping to have this damn thing off today. With it vibrating all the time, all I can think of is getting off, which is the one thing I can’t do. I’m hot, then I’m cold, but I’m sweaty even when I’m cold. I’m so horny I can’t even think. I might as well have skipped all my classes, because I don’t remember anything. I really want to hit someone right now. Fuck Tyler! And what did he mean about me starting to turn?

Day 4, 11:28

At first, I was hoping it was my deranged imagination, but I’m almost certain the cup is starting to feel tighter now. A lot tighter. I wish I could believe it’s because it’s shrinking, but I know better. I saw what it did to Tyler, up close and personal. I have got to find that fucking nerd Steve today, or I won’t be able to get it on him until Monday, and I’ll be stuck on edge all weekend. These chinos aren’t going to work much longer. They’re starting to get too tight. And even worse, they’re a little highwater. Fuck! Am I getting taller?

Day 4, 14:17

Suddenly I can’t stop eating. I gorged myself at lunch. Out of nowhere I had a huge appetite. I ate two lunches and I’m still hungry. Steve is nowhere to be found. He either wasn’t in school today or was sent home early. I’ll have to make it through the weekend with vibrating junk! Fuck! I need this off now before I change any more.

Day 4, 16:57

I’d had enough. After school, I didn’t go home. I went to where there’s a nice, high overpass over a busy road. I was going to jump and be done with it. I touched the railing, thinking I would just fling myself over, but as soon as my hands touched the railing, that thing – I don’t know whether it froze me or shocked me or what. When I came to, I was sitting on the curb on the other side of the overpass with some passer-by asking me if I was okay. No, I was not okay! I have no idea how long I was out. But I told her I was fine. I got up and tried to go home, but the cup started freezing me and buzzing like mad as soon as I got anywhere near that overpass. I had to go around and go home another way. It made me wonder: did Tyler try something like this? He did try to warn me, and he was so intense about it, too. At this point, I was so keyed up that I didn’t walk; I actually ran home. Between the cup and the too-tight chinos, I’m sure I looked as uncomfortable as I felt, but I needed to burn off some of my frustration. The weird thing is that the cup seemed to vibrate a lot less when I was running. I could almost think.

Day 4, 20:23

I ate everything in sight at dinner. If this continues, I might have to get a job after school just to pay for the extra food. I shut myself in my room afterward, got on the bed, and stared at the ceiling, bored out of my mind. I just couldn’t get into my comic books or video games with the constant vibration going on. I had to find another way to distract myself. I started doing sit-ups and push-ups and squats and any other exercise I could think of. It was odd, but the more active I was, the vibration in the cup either seemed to stop or was just easier to ignore. Once I’d finally worn myself out, I texted Tyler and asked him if he had a pair of sweatpants I could borrow. He didn’t get back to me right away. There was a football game, naturally. But he said he’d stop by in the morning and bring me something I could wear.

Day 5

It seems stupid to do a bunch of different reports for the same day, so I’ll just do one. After breakfast, Tyler the jock actually dropped by as promised! He probably needed to go watch a football game afterwards to purge himself of any nerdiness he might have picked up at our house, but he came. I really hadn’t expected him to show. And he brought me not one but two pairs of his old sweatpants, a pair of the kind of shorts that jocks tend to wear, and a pair of shoes. It’s good he thought of shoes, because mine were getting tight enough to be uncomfortable. This pair doesn’t fit him anymore, but they’re only a little bit big on me. For now. They smell like jock, of course, but I’ll have to live with that. I don’t see myself wearing the shorts. Maybe they’d be comfortable and practical, but they’re ugly, and I’m not a jock yet. I think the sweatpants will do a better job of covering up the stink from the cup. Unfortunately, I’ll probably have to wear sweatpants to school on Monday. Anyway, it was nice of Tyler to bring me the stuff, and he wasn’t being obnoxious. He seemed kind of chill, actually. Maybe I understand him a little better now. He didn’t stay long, but he probably can’t be seen hanging around me until I’m a jock, too. In any case, you rarely see a jock separate from the herd.

It was my mother’s first glimpse of the new, improved Tyler. She was obviously surprised, but she covered it well enough. After he left, she said something like, “Tyler’s been working out a lot lately, hasn’t he? He looks like a completely different person. I hardly recognized him.”

That gave me my opening. I finally asked her the question that had been on my mind since Day 2. I said something like: “So, if I started to get into working out and football stuff like Tyler, and I started getting big and built like him, and I started hanging out with his jock friends, would that freak you out?”

She looked at me thoughtfully for a bit. Then she said something like, “He’s your best friend. I can tell it’s been really hard on you that his interests have changed. But honey, I’m fine with whatever you want to do - as long as it’s what you want and it makes you happy.” So there I have it. I guess I can put my biggest worry to rest. She’ll be okay with a jock son.

Anyway, after that it was so fucking boring in my room that I jogged as best I could to a park that has those pull-up bars and push-up bars and other stuff for doing a circuit workout or whatever they call it. Like yesterday, it seemed that the vibrating from the cup stopped the more I stayed active. And boy, did I stay active. I did every exercise as best I could until every muscle was so sore I could hardly move. Even I knew that wasn’t the right way to work out, but I needed the relief from the cup. I also hoped to make myself so exhausted that I could sleep better. It worked. My vibrating junk only woke me up a few times during the night. But now the cup is a lot tighter. A lot. I’m not sure if that makes the vibration better or worse, but the worst part is still the constant horniness without being able get off.

Speaking of getting off, I’d better be getting this thing off on Monday!

Day 6

Judging from the little I know about working out, I should have been really sore today. I wasn’t. My guess is the cup does something to speed development and recovery, because I am already seeing some muscle. Even I know that I shouldn’t be able to see a visible change in a day! This thing is really messing with me. I already knew I was starting to smell more like locker room, but now I’m getting hairier. I don’t know what’s going on under the cup, of course, but my legs are hairier, my pits are hairier, and my abs and forearms are hairier. My nipples are super sensitive, and they’re poking up under my T-shirts. Holy shit! I’m getting little hairs all around them, too, and in the middle of my chest! I’m turning into a fucking neanderthal.

As if all this weren’t enough, my throat started to feel scratchy, as if I were coming down with a cold, and I sounded hoarse. I told Mom I wasn’t feeling well. In any case, there was no way I was going to go to church wearing sweatpants with the smell of the cup rolling off me. In the afternoon, I felt a bit better, although my voice was still really rough and hoarse. I went to the park again. I’ve never seen anyone I know there; it’s not very close to my house or the school. I wore Tyler’s old shoes, which fit me perfectly today. By the basketball hoops, there are usually a few random guys playing a pick-up game. Now, I didn’t know much more about basketball than what a basketball looks like, but I played for a while. It could have been worse. I didn’t make a complete fool of myself, and the smell coming off me isn’t nearly as noticeable outside. I was wearing Tyler’s shorts, so I looked as right for the part as I could manage. When I got home, my voice was so hoarse that I could hardly whisper.

As I’d hoped, all the activity calmed down the vibrations from the cup. Speaking of which, I keep thinking the thing can’t possibly get any tighter, but it is. And I thought I was horny before; now it’s so bad that I can hardly see straight.

When I was getting ready for bed, something about my face looked different in the mirror. I looked scruffy. I think maybe that shaving once a week isn’t going to cut it anymore. My eyebrows were looking a little thick, too. Even worse, it looks as if I’ve got the start of a unibrow. It might be my imagination, but my features seem different, I don’t know, bigger or heavier or something. A little lunkheaded. It’d better be my imagination, because I do not want to start looking like one of them. I’ve got to get rid of this thing!

Day 7

This is scary. I’m getting ready for school, and now even Tyler’s old sweatpants are starting to get a bit form fitting, if you know what I mean. And they’re a little high water, too. My T-shirt looks really tight, and I know it didn’t shrink. It’s uncomfortable, but I hardly notice it compared to the tightness of the you-know-what. It feels tight enough to pop itself off now. Maybe it will? I know I’m still growing, but the cup has got to be speeding things up. Anyway, the first order of business today is finding that nerd Steve and giving him his cup. I’m sorry for Steve, even if he is a fucking dweeb, but I have got to be done with this.

Once I got to school, the rest of the morning passed in a blur. Right before lunch, Tyler texted me that he needed to see me, so we agreed to meet as soon as we could in the most out-of-the-way men’s room in the school. When I went in, there was only one other guy there, some random nerd I didn’t know. Tyler came in a moment later, fixed the nerd with his best jock glare and said “Out, nerd. Now!”. The guy scuttled out with a look of terror on his face, but I had sympathy only for myself. Turning to me with his trademark cocky smirk, Tyler said:

“Congrats, bro! You did it! You’re second on the list now. So go down to the locker rooms tomorrow sometime between, say, 10 and 11 tomorrow and everything should be ready.”

“Dude, am I, like, missing something?” Something about me sounded way off, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. “What’d I do?”

“Well, I didn’t see it myself, but you know Derek? Blond buzz cut, linebacker and built like it? Anyway, Derek told me you got Steve O’Connor this morning between first and second period. You walked right up to Steve and popped it on him while Steve was still trying to figure out what you wanted. He just stood there, pale as a ghost, and said “What’d you just do to me?” You walked away, but then turned around and said, “Just a little present for you, nerd. Have fun trying to walk!”. And then Steve, he’s still standing there after you left, spluttering, “I don’t understand! What’s this smell?” and looking as though he’s going to throw up. According to Derek, he was still standing there in the hallway looking lost when the next bell rang.

Holy shit! I’m sure the look on my face must have been fascinating, but I couldn’t see it. The cup started vibrating like a mad thing. I should have been sick to my stomach. I should have fainted. But really, I was just relieved. Incredibly relieved. And more than a bit freaked out that I didn’t remember any of it. I said:

“Bro, seriously, I do not remember any of that shit. I don’t remember anything from this morning.” Something was still off; I sounded strange. “Wait, dude, is my voice, like, lower?”

“Yeah, actually. You sound different. But, bro, I told you were turning already. I can see it, and probably other people can now, too. You’re taller, and you’re bigger, too. I know you haven’t started to buff out a lot yet. That doesn’t really happen until the cup comes off, and it doesn’t happen right away, but you’re already starting. And that’s fast work, bro; some guys don’t start showing for weeks. You’re going to be fucking awesome!”

And then he grabbed me in a quick, hard, bro hug and patted me on the back with his meaty paw. I was stunned. My bro Tyler thought I was going to be awesome! I was so pleased, so stupidly pleased at attention from Tyler that I forgot for a minute that I had spent all morning at school and remembered none of it. That should have frightened the living shit out of me. And let’s not forget that Ty-boy was the whole reason that I was in this mess to begin with. Tyler said:

“So, dude, you really don’t remember anything from this morning?”

“No, bro. Not a thing since I got to school. Why?”

Tyler grinned at me for a moment. His smirk was smirkier than ever – if that’s a word.

“Well, bro, before you caught up with Steve, you also apparently stuffed some random freshman geek into his locker. Derek had been keeping an eye on you, you know, making sure you got to Steve. I probably shouldn’t have said anything, but that was too good to pass up. Anyway, I’ve got to go, but I’ll see you tomorrow, after you’re – well, after. Trust me, you’re gonna feel great!”

He turned to leave, but I said, “Dude, seriously, hold on a sec. I mean, stuffing some kid I don’t know into his locker, I’m not even gonna go there; I so can’t deal with that now, but is it normal for me to just – black out and forget an entire morning at school? I mean, that’s really freaking my shit.”

“Well, I don’t know how often it’s happened, but you’re not the only one it’s happened to. But you’ll be fine once the cup’s off. Later, bro!”

Yeah, I’ll be fine, Tyler. Right. The next time I terrorize some innocent kid, at least I’ll be able to remember it. Great.

Tyler swaggered out of the men’s room and vanished down the hallway. I started to follow and then stopped short: tomorrow? He said tomorrow? Really? I had to wait another day! Fuck! There’d be nothing left of me by tomorrow. Whatever happened in the locker room to complete the process, I was already starting to look and act like one of them. And if I understood Tyler, the changes started to accelerate once the cup came off. Tears sprang into my eyes, and I started to sob. I suddenly felt faint, so I went to the sink. I caught my reflection in the mirror. What I saw was bizarre, and completely outside my experience: a dumb jock was bawling his eyes out. I wanted to throw up, but nothing came, so I stood there and splashed some water on my face.

It didn’t matter at this point, I realized, looking at my reflection in the mirror. I was way too far gone already. Quick as lightning, I punched the hateful reflection with my fist. The glass shattered and fell splintering to the floor. My knuckles were a little red, but I hadn’t broken the skin. I walked out the door and never looked back.

Day 8, 6:25

Today’s the day. I’m resigned to my fate. My old life’s ending and my new one is starting. No, my old life ended a week ago. Come to think of it, my old life really ended when the bastards got Tyler. They took my best friend, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. The sooner this is over, the better. See you on the other side.

Day 68

Hey, bros, I know it’s been a LOOONG time, and you want to know the rest of the story. Sorry you had to wait, but I have had way better things to do than dweeb-ass shit like keeping a journal. A fucking captain’s log? Seriously! I can’t believe that I used to be that guy. But – I know he would have wanted to finish the story, and I owe my old self that much, I guess. So, bros, with that said, here is the rest of the story.

I know you all want to know WHAT HAPPENED, you know, down in the locker room. The problem is, just like my bro Tyler, I can’t really remember much of The Day Of, if you know what I mean. I know I went down to the lockers as soon after 10:00 as I could make it, because nothing was more important to me than getting that fucking thing off my junk. As for becoming a jock, by that point I was already more jock than nerd anyway. I wasn’t trying to fight it anymore.

Anyway, I got there, and they were ready for me this time. The old football coach was there (more on him later), and that Derek dude with the blond buzz cut was there, and maybe Tyler and a few other guys that I recognized. Maybe. After that, it’s pretty much another black hole, like the day before when I cupped Steve-o. All I remember is there were lights, and maybe some videos they had me watch, and the old football coach’s voice droning away. I think some of the other coaches were there, but his was the voice I remember. And then nothing. The next thing I remember, I was coming back after practice into the locker room and stripping for the showers. Yeah, after. I don’t remember my first football practice, but Tyler told me I really was there. I also don’t remember learning how to play football.

It wasn’t until I was soaping myself up in the shower that I realized I was free. About fucking time! I honestly don’t know when they took that thing off, but when I got the soap down there, I finally realized it was gone, and I could touch my stuff for the first time in a week. Of course, it wasn’t the same feeling. No way. I had heard that most of the guys who were jocked like me would stand there in a daze once they were free of it, touching themselves and muttering, not able to believe what they were feeling. But I already knew what to expect. I’m not going to bother describing mine in detail. I already described Tyler’s monster fuck stick and balls, so you know the drill. But you remember that Tyler had been – um – distinctly below average beforehand? I wanted to point out that that was not the case for me. You know what I mean. You can figure it out. I swear, it felt like the damn thing needed nearly a whole bar of soap just for itself, and the balls felt like lead weights in my sack. It took some getting used to, but I got used to it, and anything was better than the cup, believe me. It’s been easier since. Now that I’m stronger and my body’s bigger, everything’s more in proportion, and I don’t feel like a freak. But sorry, Becky, the manspreading will continue. It’s not as if I have a fucking choice. Between the size of my thighs and my junk, just trying to cross my legs makes my balls wince.

At least I could finally wash down there, and the funky reek was gone. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m a big guy, and I can get pretty rank by the end of the fourth quarter. Fuck, I can get pretty rank by half time. And my gym shoes and football cleats and jockstraps do make my bedroom smell a bit like a locker room. But I don’t stink up any room just by walking into it anymore, not unless I haven’t had a shower.

Speaking of showers, I’ll get back to the story. I finished my shower and lumbered my way back to my locker in that jock swagger that has become an old habit by now. I know it makes me look dumb, but that’s really the only way I can walk comfortably. Anyway, when I opened my locker (and I’m not sure how I even knew it was my locker), I found some clean clothes that I had never seen before. I sighed. Under Armour head to toe seemed to be the extent of my fashion options. So I pulled on a pair of compression shorts and then put regular shorts on over those. Then I went to look at myself in the mirror.

I was bigger than the last view I remembered from the school men’s room (you know, the men’s room where I broke the mirror). I wasn’t much bigger, but shit, it was only a day later. It felt like a year! My build was still more gangly than buff at that point, but I could easily see where the muscles were developing. As for my face, well, it wasn’t quite neanderthal, but you wouldn’t mistake me for the president of the chess club. (The unibrow didn’t help, dudes.) I could still see remnants of my old face in places, though, covered over with the bushier eyebrows, five o’clock shadow, and stronger features. I had nearly no hair. I didn’t remember getting a haircut, but someone had given my dark hair a buzz cut like Derek’s, only even shorter; on the sides and back it was almost completely shaved off. I had never had my hair that short, and I felt bald and drafty. It was a striking look, but more than a little intimidating. If I were a freshman geek trying to get my books out of my locker, I would probably give me a wide berth. I wasn’t bad looking actually, but, looking at this face, no one would ever believe that I’d been a nerd. Fuck, I couldn’t believe it myself, and I knew better. The guy looking out at me from the mirror was hot shit, and he knew it. Maybe that was the whole idea. I smiled. And there it was – my own version of Tyler’s smirk.

Yeah, I know. I said I’d end up being a big brute with a cocky smile. Well, at this point I wasn’t all that big yet, but there was the smile. My reflection looked happy. Tyler was right; I felt amazing, better than I’d ever felt in my life.

I finished getting dressed, which for now meant I put on a T-shirt, socks and shoes. My hair was so short that, when I pulled the T-shirt over my head, the collar stuck to my stubble like Velcro. By this point, almost the entire team had left the locker room, but Tyler came by, rubbed my buzzed head and said, “Looking good, bro! How’s it hanging?”

“Shut up, Ty-boy, you fucker,” I said, with that shit-eating grin on my face. “I think you of all people know how it’s hanging.” I still sounded “off” to myself. I’m not sure if it was because my voice was even lower or if it was just the sound of the bro-speak coming out of my mouth. Maybe it was a combo.

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “I know. But seriously, bro,”, he said, giving me a hug, “It’s good to have you back. How’re you feeling?”

Have me back, Tyler? I wasn’t the one who left, not that it mattered now. What I said was “It’s different; I’m not going to lie, but I feel pretty fucking amazing. Better than I ever have. You were right. But, dude, it’s been a long day. I didn’t sleep last night. I just want to go home, and, like, sleep for a week. Can we get out of here?”

Tyler AND Derek walked me home. I guess I’d better get used to moving with the herd. Derek’s not such a bad dude, really. I’m pretty sure he’s a native jock and not a former nerd, and he seems about as dumb as a box of rocks, but he’s decent enough to me now that I’m part of the team. He and Tyler came in for a few minutes. That helped blunt my mother’s shock at my new look. Tyler told her I’d gone out for football, that I was learning fast, and that the haircut was part of the initiation. I don’t know if she really liked it, but she rubbed my head affectionately and said I looked cute. Cute? Really? Maybe Mom likes big, dumb brutes, too. After that, I went to my room, collapsed on the bed, and slept for, like, sixteen hours.

I guess it was really more like twelve hours. The next morning, Day 9 in the captain’s nerd log, I woke up a bit early with a morning wood that was nearly as distracting as the cup. I had fallen asleep in my clothes. Clearly, I would have taken care of business had I not been unconscious, especially after waiting for so long, but my monster cock wasn’t going to be put off any longer. I’m not sure if I was jerking it or it was jerking me. I hope I didn’t wake Mom up; I was a bit out of control. And I had to change the sheets.

After I came, I felt different. This is hard to explain: I felt complete. Finished. It was as if that step somehow took all the changes I had been experiencing and clicked them into place, finalized them. I don’t know if that was just an idea in my head or if it was really part of the process, but that was when I truly felt I was a jock. Not only that, but I felt as if I’d always been a jock, and I had trouble remembering that I’d ever not been a jock.

In any case, I finally felt at peace with myself. My mind slowed down. Now, don’t get me wrong: I’m not trying to say I got dumber. I know everyone thinks jocks are dumb, and a lot of us are. I know I can look dumb, and all the bro-speak makes me sound dumb, but I don’t think I’m really any dumber than I was before. What I mean is that I was calmer. Focused. My mind wasn’t racing every which way.

I’m only speaking for myself, of course. Now Tyler? He might be a little dumber than he was before, but he wasn’t always the sharpest tool in the box to begin with, if you know what I mean. I will admit that some of my grades slipped a bit. Part of it is that I had missed a week’s worth of class when the cup wouldn’t let me think. The main reason was my attitude. I can still do the work; I just don’t care as much about grades as I used to. Practice and working out and hanging out with the guys are all higher on my priority list right now than school subjects I didn’t like much to begin with. I’m sticking with AP Biology, though. If I keep studying biology, someday I might be able to figure out how these cups worked. And Mom already had the talk with me about how my grades need to keep up, so I will stop slacking, I promise. I’m not going to bully some nerd into doing my work for me, as tempting as it is.

Okay, so where were we? Oh yeah, nerd log Day 9, star date whatever-the fuck. As great as I was feeling, I did feel a bit sorry for Steve O’Connor. Protocol be damned (and how did I know there was a protocol?), I decided I would talk to him when I got to school and let him know it was nothing personal. Well, tracking him down wasn’t as easy as I’d hoped, and I didn’t want any of the other bros involved. As it turned out, Steve-o was the one who tracked me down.

This is how it went. I needed to drain the dragon. I was wearing a pair of Tyler’s hand-me-down jock shorts, and they didn’t have a fly. Not being used to my new, um, anatomy yet, I was a bit shy of pulling that monster out in front of others, so I aimed for that out-of-the-way men’s room where I’d broken the mirror two days and a lifetime before. The broken glass had been cleaned up, but the mirror hadn’t been replaced yet. I hoped no one would figure out how it had broken. Anyway, I was just finishing at the urinal when the scene started, almost identical to my confrontation with Tyler over a week earlier.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned around. Yeah, there Steve was, pale, sweaty, and looking on the edge of a nervous breakdown. I was pretty sure he’d seen my cock, because his mouth was agape, but I wasn’t going to be rushed. I took my time stuffing it back into my shorts.

“Fuck, James, is that even you? I hardly recognized you. What the hell happened? Since when are you a fucking jock? And what in fuck’s name did you do to me?”

I was trying to do the dweeb a favor, and now I saw what Tyler had tried to explain: nerds are so fucking annoying! I gave him my best smile, “Hey, Steve-o. ‘Sup, bro? Enjoying your new accessory?

At that, he actually tried to hit me, not that I blamed him, really. The reek of the cup rolled off him. It wasn’t quite as bad as I remembered, but it was bad enough.

I grabbed his arm then, and I pulled both his wrists behind his back and pinned him up against the wall so that he couldn’t lash out again. Holding him there while he struggled, I said, “Look, bro. We need to talk; but calm down or I’ll have to sit on you. I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. It wasn’t anything personal. I had no choice. You were next on the list, and the only way I was going to get mine off was to give one to you.”

Now he was starting to cry. “What? What’s going on? You mean someone put one of those on you, too? Who was it?”

“Not that it’s really any of your business, soon-to-be-former-nerd, but, if you really want to know, it was Tyler. Not that my bro Tyler had much choice, either.”

“Wait, Tyler. Yeah, he used to be a nerd, come to think of it. And wasn’t he, like, your best friend? So that’s what happened to him. And you. Now it makes sense! I couldn’t figure out what was going on. But why me?” And then it hit him: “Oh fuck. Fuck! No! You mean?” He started to slump down the wall. I let him go, and he collapsed on the floor and looked up at me with stark terror in his eyes. It was pitiable to watch, but I didn’t flinch and kept my gaze on him. “Tyler was a nerd, and now he’s a jock. You were a nerd, too, and now you’re a jock. And you put one of those things on me. Is that how they do it? You don’t mean I’m gonna…” He swallowed hard. “Look at you. You hardly look like the same person. You don’t sound like the same person. Do you mean?”

“Uh yeah, bro, I mean. That’s what I wanted to tell you. I figured I owed you that much. Say good-bye to the chess team and hello to the football team. Look, I don’t know. I really was trying to do you a favor, but maybe it makes it worse, you knowing what’s going to happen. But I figured you’d want to know. I did.”

“Oh yeah, thank you so much, thanks a ton!” he said bitterly. “Don’t just stick the knife in. Sure, twist it around a few times, too. Fuck!”

“Look, it’s going to be rough for a bit, but you’ll get through it. You will. Now let me give you some advice: don’t try to remove it; it just makes it worse. Don’t try to do anything stupid, like hurting yourself; that really makes it worse. And the more you stay active, the less it bothers you. I think it also speeds up the changes, but believe me, you’ll be better off in the long run. I know what I’m talking about. You won’t believe this, either, but you will be happy – after. Really.”

“But I don’t want to be like you,” he sobbed.

“Shh, dude, shh,” I said, patting him on the shoulder as gently as I could manage. “I know you don’t. Believe me, I know.” I pulled him to his feet and held him upright. “But you have to believe me when I tell you: you will be okay.”

And then I gave him a hug and left. Later that day, my bro Derek pulled me aside. I don’t know if he knew I had talked to Steve, but he had noticed that I was trying to keep an eye on him. Derek told me, “Hey, bro. Don’t worry about Steve. Jake and I and a couple of the guys are keeping an eye on him. Anyway, we think he’s starting to turn, so he should be okay.” I couldn’t really see it until the next day. By Friday, the changes were more obvious, and by the time Monday morning rolled around, most of the nerd was jocked out of him. Sometime Tuesday, a week after me, he went down to the locker room. As it turned out, I didn’t talk to him again until he had joined us for that afternoon’s football practice, but it all came out right in end, as you’ll hear.

You see, the whole cup thing seems to have stopped, as far as we can tell. I had something to do with that, though not directly. It went back to something Tyler had said. Remember that he said I was back on the list, in second place? Apparently, whoever was behind the experiment or conspiracy or whatever it was had made some tweaks to the things along the way. I was the second guy to get the very latest cup model: second place, see? The guy in first place was some guy I had never met before named Zach Davis. My bro Steve-o, Steve O’Connor, was number three, and then there were three more nerds in process before whoever was running this show found a huge flaw in their plan. At least, it was a flaw to them. You see, every one of us that got that model turned out to be gay. Now, I don’t know for sure, but in my opinion, it could have just been dumb luck. I am pretty sure I was gay before. After all, I did have more than a bit of a crush on Tyler. It was one of the reasons I was so hurt when he dropped me and why I was so determined to find out why. And Becky was always a friend; I didn’t have, you know, feelings for Becky that way. It could have been the same for the other guys; I mean, really, gay nerds aren’t that uncommon. But it seems that the last thing whoever was running this program wanted was an army of cocky, built, gay alpha jocks who couldn’t be bullied. Too funny. Law of unintended consequences, anyone? Anyway, soon the old football coach was gone, and we had a new coach who was not involved, apparently, and had no idea that some of his star players had been nerds a short time before. And none of us are going to say anything.

Now no one knows (or admits knowing) what the goal might have been. If it was to change all the guys at school into jocks, I’m not sure how some of the bros would be able to pass their classes without some nerds to help them with their homework. Doesn’t really matter now, I guess. The jocks, new and old, are all happy with our lives, so we don’t care.

The new football coach had no problem with us gay jocks, and neither did the other bros. We were bros, too, after all. They trusted us, and the team needed us. If we happened to like dudes rather than chicks, that just left more chicks for them. As Tyler had said, girls liked big dumb brutes, and so did some guys. Even the dumbest, ugliest players on the team could always find dates, believe me.

As for me, well, turns out my bro Steve-o had a bit of a crush on me, and let me tell you bros that he’s turned into one smoking hot gay jock. We started seeing each other, and pretty soon we were boyfriends and the first couple on the football team.

Tyler’s still one of my best bros, and it was great to be friends and hang out again. Of course, we don’t spend as much time one-on-one as we did before, cause jocks really do kind of form a herd, and we don’t do the same things we used to. Now we might catch a game; then it might have been D and D, but it’s all good. Tyler and Brittney are getting pretty serious now, so she takes a lot of his time, and I spend a lot of my free time with Steve-o, naturally.

As for my old friend Becky, she wouldn’t even look at me for weeks after I had changed. Pretended I didn’t exist. And she really didn’t like jocks much, or so she said. But the funny thing about Becky, which I should have guessed, is that gay guys were her thing. As soon as Steve and I became a couple, suddenly Becky was apologizing for dropping me and asking if we could be friends again. She loves Steve, naturally. But the poor girl has needs, you know, like any girl her age, and while Steve and I were good friends, there was one itch neither of us could scratch, so to speak. Well, you won’t believe what happened next. Enter our bro, Derek. You remember: blond, buzz cut, side-of-beef Derek? The terror of freshmen and underdeveloped geeks? Yeah, that Derek. He comes to Steve and me and asks us to put in a good word for him with Becky! Thinks she’s way out of his league. Well, Derek is a great guy even if he is dumber than dirt, so sure, we did our bro a solid and pleaded his case with Becky. And she went out with him! And then she went out with him again! Now they seem to be getting as serious as Tyler and Brittney, and Tyler turns out to be right about girls again. I will admit I just can’t believe it. Brittney’s one thing; she’s the cheerleader type, and they always go for the jocks. But Becky? I have no idea what she and Derek talk about, but it seems to work for them. At least he doesn’t need to bully nerds into helping him with his homework; Becky’s got to be one of the smartest girls in school.

So, all in all, everything is going great and showing every sign of getting better. Tyler’s getting big enough that he could probably play linebacker next season. I’m not far behind him, and Steve-o’s catching up nicely in the weight room himself. Now that football season will be ending soon, I’m thinking whether I should go out for basketball. I don’t know; I’m a little bulky for basketball, and I’m not that tall. Wrestling might be a better fit. And the sight of my package in a singlet might scare any opponents right out of a match.

My room’s different too now. My old clothes are long gone. Even if I still wanted to wear that shit, none of it would have fit me a couple of months ago, let alone now. But Mom’s budget wouldn’t allow me to just lay in a new wardrobe. It would have been a waste anyway. The first few weeks after the cup came off, I was making some sick gains, and I would have outgrown anything that wasn’t super roomy or made with a lot of stretch. As it was, my appetite was already a strain on Mom. Tyler’s been super helpful, lending me some stuff and giving me what he could spare or grew out of, but Steve-o’s been the best. His parents are loaded, and his dad was so happy to have a jock son, even a gay jock son, that Steve-o can get almost anything he wants, even a few extras for his boyfriend. I eat dinner at their place nearly every night, which takes a lot of burden off my poor mother. I don’t want to be a charity case, though. I do make myself useful. And now that my growth and my appetite are stabilizing, I should be able to get some of my own clothes that I don’t grow out of in a month. Even a jock (and especially a gay jock) needs some decent outfits for occasions that don’t involve a locker room, and I’m not covering up this bod with baggy basketball shorts all the time.

As for all the nerd shit like comic books and whatever that Tyler and I used to spend our hours on, I boxed it up and put it in my closet. I don’t really want any of it, but I can’t get rid of it, at least not yet. I find it super boring and stupid now, but that stuff is all I have of who I used to be. I know it’s weird. I can barely remember being that guy, and I’m happy with my new life and would never go back, but I feel like, as long as I still have his stuff, my old self isn’t totally gone. The guy who wrote the beginning of this story is a stranger to me now, but when I read what he wrote, I mean, for a nerd, dude sure had some balls! So, yeah, I want to honor my old self’s courage – and the pain he went through, too. Reading the story now, it’s clear to me that the best part of my old self was my friendship with Tyler. Well, bros, don’t feel too sorry for the old me. After everything that happened, I’m still friends with Tyler, and it’s fucking awesome, because that friendship is what brought me everything good that I have in my life now.

So, that’s the end of my story, bros, except for one last thing. Sort of an epilogue, if you know what that means (I told you dudes I wasn’t as dumb as I sound; I can use big words when I want to). You see, Steve and I are thinking that the Law of Unintended Consequences is fucking with this story again. Let me explain. Steve-o and I are an exclusive couple. Except for once. Now, neither one of us was interested in anyone else, but there was this one skinny guy, Jeremy, that had a HUGE thing for jocks. Kind of cute, but maybe weighed a hundred pounds on a good day. Well, obviously none of the straight bros are going to help Jeremy out, but as soon as we were out as a gay jock couple, the boy would not leave us alone. Wanted to make out with one or both of us for a night, an hour, fifteen minutes; in other words, whatever we’d be willing to give him. Well, we felt like being charitable. We finally decided that a little extra wouldn’t hurt our relationship, and we’d be doing the dude a favor and giving him an experience he wouldn’t soon forget. So, with the understanding that it was a one-time thing or else we’d do him some serious damage, we invited him over to Steve’s room one night. (No way my place would have worked; Mom would have heard everything.) Well, the dude may or may not have been a virgin, but he knew what he wanted. Of course, he nearly pissed himself when he saw our cocks, but he was so horny that he managed to – um – handle way more of both of us than I would have believed for such a small guy. Where there’s a will, I guess. And at least one of our jockstraps went missing after that, so I assume he kept a souvenir. But that was the end of that. Jeremy got what he wanted, and he didn’t try to renege on our deal.

So, it’s not as if little Jeremy hangs out with the bros, right? We don’t see him again right away. But when we do, he seems a little off. For one, he’s walking a little funny, as if something’s going on down there. We guessed maybe he was wearing his souvenir to school, and it wouldn’t exactly fit him, now would it? But it did look as if he had a lot more of a package than Steve-o and I remembered seeing. A few days later, he’s starting to look a bit different. Taller, A little bigger. His cute little face is looking less cute. He starts to look a bit distracted, and he’s scratching himself a lot when he thinks no one’s looking. Okay, so maybe it’s a normal growth spurt. I mean, as far as we both know, all the cups are all gone, and we’d be able to smell that on him in any case. Steve and I sure aren’t going to say anything, but we’ve got to wonder: is he turning? If so, the dude’ll probably be pretty happy, since jocks are what he’s into. But if he is turning, then it seems obvious that it must be something about his make-out session with us that triggered it. And if we could do that, what about the other converted gay jocks? If we’re all – contagious – if you follow me, then whoever started this fucking experiment may have his army of gay jocks yet, whether he wants it or not. And after everything that’s happened, bros, Steve and I think that has got to be about the most twisted ending to this story that we could have imagined.

#nerd to jock #jockification #jock transformation #mental change #jock tf

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snowsinterlude · 11 months ago

Text

🪻 - violet roses and bleeding hearts.

(incel coriolanus snow x reader)

summary: no one knew how sweet your boyfriend could be. even if he was a raging misogynistic incel.

based on this ask !

c.w: incel coriolanus, mentions to misoginy, fluff, short fic, coryo being a sweetheart (most parts), couple content, some slight mentions to sex, slight punching

whilst everyone asked you why you were with coriolanus snow, the biggest incel of the academy and also one of the smartest and prettiest nerds, you knew you had him on the palm of your hand.

he was a terrible person towards woman, of course. he always had something to say towards others but never towards you. no, no.

you were his muse. his goddess. it is safe to say that he adored you, loved you so much it was a joke. it seemed fun to you that you both started talking because of an argument about clothes and the way femininity should be performed.

of course, it didn't end very well, you punched him in the face after he said something about traditional woman and that punch was enough for him to be head over heels to you. acting like a puppy with you and an angry pitbull towards others. he never thought much abbout others, but you? ma'am, ever since that punch, you had him on your bare feet.

he was a virgin mess before you met him, and he still is a mess but a more controled one- at least with you.

he knows his way with words. and acts! he loves giving you roses and huge bouquets of his grandma'am white roses, however, when he thought it was too much white, he turned to the one thing he knew you loved:

violet roses and bleeding hearts.

"y/n," he called you, voice a bit hitched from his excitement. it's been days since he wanted to see you, and he looked like a lost puppy without you around. however, he looked at your clothes up and down, the big hoodie and the sweatpants calling his attention as he frowned a bit and gulped down.

you noticed that, anyway. "what is it, coryo? is there something wrong with my clothes?" you asked.

obviously, he was ready to answer that question. he was always ready to make a really sweet comment or a really rude one. you knew him. always getting into people's weardrobe as if he has a full one.

"aren't those clothes a bit masculine, my love?" he asked, brows still knitted together. very cute for him.

"i don't think so, they're so comfortable." you said, comforting yourself into the hoodie and smelling it's perfume.

"okay, you're right, love. as always" he said, praying internally that this wouldn't be the outfit you were going to use for you both to go out.

it was worse. but at least it was something a girl would use.

your dress was quite short. white, above the knee, tight, hugging every curve you had while your hair was turned in a bun, high on your neck. pretty. somehow, erotic.

"th...that's..." he stared at you, up and down and down and up all over.

"yes? what is it now?" you asked, hand on your waist as you waited for whatever he had to say.

your sweet boyfriend, who always had something to say about women's clothing, was staring at your body the hole time. he was a bit jealous, he didn’t want to let anyone see you.

"babe, what if we stay here?" he asked, hands on your waist. you weren't against that idea, but you were ready now and didn't had the means, needs or will to go back. "i'll be a good boy, please. let's just stay home."

god he was so cute calling himself a good boy- needless to say he wasn't a good boy.

he was already there, bouquet in front of his body.

"bleeding hearts," you beamed, smiling. "my favorite ones."

"yes, yes. brought them yesterday" he said, kissing your temple. "now, can we j-just.. stay at home?"

"why?"

"you're too pretty. i don't want others to see you dressed like that."

"like that..?"

"like that, yeah. like... i don't know?" he seemed to think for a long time, but he still didn’t had anything to say "like a..."

"like a slut?"

"yeah- wait, no. stop." you laughed, letting him frown and hugging him. "we'll talk about it later, babe. let's stay at home ok?"

"okay" he was more than happy to obey, kissing your lips and laying his head on your lap.

he was yours, in a way that nobody knew. nobody suspected that this boy was so weak for you, especially with the atrocities he spoke. still, he was yours. entirely yours.

#young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #young president snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #x reader

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vasito-de-leche · 11 months ago

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I love how you write, your interpretations of characters are my favorite. If you're okay with it, may I ask for romantic headcanons of Horropedia (Reverse 1999) x Reader? I would love to know what he is like when he's developing a crush, how he confronts his feelings when he realized them, what he's like when in a romantic relationship, etc. Thank you very much!

;R1999 HORROPEDIA - Relationship Headcanons

Compilation of headcanons about Horropedia in a romantic relationship.

awe! i'm glad you like my stuff! and thank you for the lovely words and request, cause i've been itching to write for horropedia <3

i got a liiiiittle carried away with this one, hope that's alright!

Horropedia as a character is fascinating because at a surface level he's a mess and a walking stereotype - a "nerdy nerd" with a very specific hyperfixation on the horror genre, the tall guy with glasses who explains the plot and does his own thing regardless of how others view him, the first one to die in a movie solely because he's perceived as cringe etc, etc.

And yet, his medium is "logic" - he, better than anyone, understands the nonsensical laws that make up the concept of horror, he sees the patterns and the reason why some things are done this way instead of that way. Through logic, pattern recognition and analysis, Horropedia can pretty much understand anything and work his way around any problem, no matter how unorthodox his solutions may be.

In a sense, I'd compare Horropedia to Pavia. Both are characters who are subject to the stereotypes and images others assign to them - but whereas Pavia both fights and plays into all of these roles, Horropedia just brushes it off and continues doing his own thing, being genuine and unapologetically himself.

When it comes to romance, it's easy to assume Horropedia has no interest in it - they're two different genres that don't go together most of the time. It's also easy to assume that he would be a troublesome partner, due to the laser focus attention he gives to his interests. And the latter is partially true: his lackluster love life is entirely because romance hasn't entered his radar, at least not enough to pull his attention away from his one true love.

But I think this is where the aspect of "logic" comes into play. All Horropedia needs is that spark, to find something to truly become invested in when it comes to romance - once he finds it, he'll dedicate the same amount of attention to detail and care as the horror movies he loves so much.

On the subject of Horropedia developing a crush.

Similar to Click, Horropedia would need some time to start noticing the signs of a crush - the difference is that Horropedia is a little quicker when it comes to realizing he's fallen for someone. His forte is horror movies, but he still knows a thing or two when it comes to other genres.

When he cannot rationalize his behaviour around you in a way that makes sense to his current fixation or situation, that's when he knows. And given how straightforward (to the point of bordering on obliviously rude) Horropedia can be, I'd say he'd also be the type to address this crush right away. Now that there's this brand new thing in his life, he'd like to understand it better - to dissect and study the way romance is potrayed, explore how it feels and just analyze it to hell and back. Basically, he wants to know the rules, to figure out how to best proceed.

Of course, he wouldn't dream of confronting you directly, only an amateur would do such a thing. Instead, he asks his friends and pretty much anyone within his general vicinity. He wants to understand romance from every angle, to hear about it from all sorts of people until he feels like he knows enough to start forming his own opinions.

His questions are all theoretical situations that begin rather innocent, innocuous. What does the hero of a romcom do to get the romantic interest? Does it follow a three act structure? And should the third act climax start with a confession or the breakup?

Overtime, they become a little more specific. To the point where his closest friends might suspect something is up, until Horropedia finds himself asking about your interests so that he can figure out the perfect gift for you. Just in case. He finds himself watching romcoms and making extensive research and charts and essays into the genres.

The funniest thing to me is that Horropedia would be extremely casual about this whole ordeal, this crush makes him extremely intrigued in the concept of romance (an oddity for someone so themed around horror), he finds himself staring at you from across the room (this is the third time he's walked into a door because of it) and so on and so forth. But he's so chill about it.

When confronted about his crush - should Blonney or anyone else decide to tease him a little by prodding - Horropedia has no problem blurting out that he has, indeed, fallen for someone. But he'll take your name to the grave, not out of shame or embarrassment but because "he doesn't want to spoil the plot, as obvious as it might be".

On the subject of Horropedia confronting his feelings and some more insight into his mentality.

I'd say there is this small possibility of Horropedia feeling disheartened if he begins to neglect his real passion for the sake of his feelings - it's that sort of guilt and shock one gets when they realize they've forgotten their wallet the moment they're meant to pay for dinner, or when they realize they've forgotten to turn off the oven.

Horror is a huge part of his life and who he is as a person - literally look at the name he's chosen for himself - and given how heavily coded he is to be neurodivergent, I can understand this aspect of him. The feeling like one must choose between two things they enjoy, and all the other things that might come with hyperfixation, both positive and negative.

This is the biggest obstacle for Horropedia when it comes to finally taking the first steps into forming a relationship with you or confessing - the irrational thought that by doing so, he's prioritizing you and romance over horror, something that he holds very dear. One of his stories gives some insight about Horropedia's relationship with horror and how it's something he shared with (and possibly was started by) his grandfather.

I feel like he'll grow a little distant, as a way to set some boundaries for himself or draw a line between his identity and his feelings for you, separate the two so that he doesn't have to feel guilty for giving one more attention than the other. Maybe he simply stops bringing up films around you, because "you're probably not that interested anyway". Masking, he's masking.

But overall, I can see Horropedia being capable enough to get out of this mindset by himself - or with a little help from someone else. Either way, he simply loops back to realizing the obvious: you two were friends, before he realized his feelings for you. You were fine with the whole Horropedia Experience. You liked him for who he was. And he liked you just as you were.

Horropedia is the one who confesses first, the one who asks you out. 100%. And it's so unnecessarily dramatic.

I DO think that Horropedia would make sure to be the one who confesses, just so he can put everything that he's learned about romance into play. And he delivers the most award worthy performance. It would be all about redirection, an unexpected reveal - his skills and animations are also all about fake outs and misleading the audience, after all.

In my head, there's this whole scene about Horropedia asking everyone to help him out confess to you, and everyone is so excited for it - but then he just asks them to fuel this slow rift that formed between you and him, to act vague, distant and mysterious should you ask Blonney or Tooth Fairy about him. Again, unorthodox and weird, but he's cooking. This is all done with the intention of forcing a confrontation between the two of you, just so he can pour his heart out right there - it's all or nothing.

Again, I want to insist that Horropedia, despite being a logical man, still makes as many aspects of his life revolve around the things that he loves and is interested in - he likes films, he likes you. And while romance is not his preferred genre, he still wants to explore all there is about it all thanks to you.

That alone should tell you how much you mean to him. Even if his methods aren't the "proper" way, you know he's putting his whole heart into this. It's all over the top, there's fake rain, etc etc. Of course, your reaction to this is up to you!

If you're mad at him for such convoluted plan, he'll sit there and allow you to scold him to your heart's content - he's used to it as one of the many troublemakers that the Foundation failed to raise as model students. If you laugh at him because of how ridiculous this guy can be sometimes, he'll laugh along, trying to get you to tell him what he could've been done better to get a third act reconciliation. And if you start crying, jump into his arms and play along then he'll be over the moon, trying every single impactful one-liner from every romcom he's watched in the past few weeks.

On the subject of Horropedia and how he acts when he's in a relationship.

Dating Horropedia is pretty easy, because you're dating your best friend. However, it is very easy to misunderstand Horropedia's way of showing affection - those who are more on the insecure side or less receptive to his subtleties may feel like there's been absolutely no shift in the dynamic, that he's treating you the same way he'd treat Tooth Fairy or Vertin.

This is far from the truth! Once Horropedia finally settles into the relationship, he grows very comfortable and allows himself to just exist around you - which isn't saying much since he doesn't mask as much around friends, but it's all about the subtle things!

I like to think Horropedia is very particular about space, as in he makes a point not to invade people's spaces if possible and he'd rather remain in his little bubble. But when it comes to you, he's very casual with physical touch. He's not as cuddly and touchy as characters like, let's say, Matilda, Jessica or Pavia, but being able to rest his head on your shoulder means a lot to him, or just have you lean on him when sitting together. This is pushed to the limit when you two pull all-nighters, binging all of your favorite movies.

He's on cloud nine when you pay attention to his ramblings and makes sure to listen when you ramble to him as well. More than often, he'll do his own little research into the topics you like, just so you have someone to properly discuss things with! Horropedia more than anyone knows what it's like to be brushed aside for being too much or too weird, to have no one listen. Despite his confidence, he has had days of feeling like he keeps on talking to a wall, so he doesn't want you to ever feel like that.

It's all about sharing interests and recommending things that you may like, keeping up with the latest events and so on and so forth, having looong discussions at night about whatever topic you two are extremely invested in.

If these discussions get a little heated and end up as arguments, expect Horropedia to insist on arguing because he's just stubborn like that - it'll take him time to realize that he might've hurt your feelings, or that he might've be hurting too, but he'll come around eventually to talk it out.

Overall, dating Horropedia would be fun because he's full of surprises and excitement, but he's also considerate in his own way.

#reverse 1999 #reverse: 1999 #r1999 #reverse 1999 x reader #reverse 1999 headcanons #reverse 1999 horropedia #horropedia #hes autistic guys hesl iterally so fucking autistic im itching to write an analysis on him bc his quotes give so much. insight into #how the foundation treats arcanists AND their potential ableism BUT LIKE. HES SO AUTISTIC HES JUST LIKE ALL OF US FR

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