#me remembering why i dislike this dude

[baronessblixen]

Football (soccer) is such a beautiful sport, but some people play it so fucking dirty.

[katierosefun]

i am a genuine coward when it comes to playing minecraft because i’ll start my survival world on normal mode, and then i’ll hurriedly build a house + bed to avoid the monsters, and then i’ll go mining and switch to peaceful mode because i don’t want to be jump scared by zombies, thank you very much, and then i’ll find a fuckign. sculk sensor and it’s making SOUNDS and at first i don’t even know what it is until i look it up on google and then i know for a fact that i’ve got my game on peaceful but the thing keeps making SOUNDS SO I BOLT because i am genre-aware, thank u very much, and then once i’m above ground i go back to normal mode but then in the daytime, a random enderman appears next to me and i audibly go, “NOPE” and change the settings back to peaceful

[kavehater]

NOW AFTER WATCHING THAT TIKTOK I UNDERSTAND WHY I WAS SO PISSED AT THE THOUGHT OF MARYAM GETTING MARRIED LOOOL

[mars-ipan]

just realized how fucking weird zoomer flirting is. nobody asks you for your phone number

[teaboot]

Wait you had autism and still got along with the other kids and knew what was going on with them?? I was never able to do that! I still chose to do my own thing but would have been unable to answer those questions.

I mean I didn't really WANNA make friends for a super long time so it didn't really matter? And if anyone was outright mean I don't think I noticed till like 6th grade.

After 6th a few other kids liked to throw or kick things at my face or steal my art supplies or give me mean nicknames- I remember almost all the boys in my class one year started a thing where if I got within 4 feet of them they'd yell "[tea] GERMS!" and make a dramatic mad-dash escape, and that was kinda hurtful, but IDK how long that was a thing??

Anyhow I started asking them if they had a crush on me or if they were just stupid, and when they asked what I meant I'd just be like "well there's two reasons boys act stupid around girls. Either you have a crush on me, or you're just always this stupid"

And that invariably led to them yelling "I'm stupid, I'm stupid!" or telling me, "I'd rather say I'm stupid than say I like you!"

Which might have been hurtful if I wasn't growing into a mild superiority complex that assured me I was smarter than them, and nicer than them, and there was really no need to desire the approval of stupid, mean people.

(This was, of course, backed up by the fact that my father was one of those mean, stupid sorts of people, and I fully beleived if I could handle him, I could handle anyone my size, and so what if you dont like me? My own dad doesnt like me, am i supposed to value your opinion?)

Then by highschool I got hot, and if one of them started chatting me up I'd just be like "You wrote in my yearbook in 2002 that I was a huge loser. Why would I want to hang out with you"

And by THEN I'd met enough genuinely fun, interesting people who actually liked me that I was never around anyone who openly disliked me anyways.

Not until I started to realize I wasn't 100% a girl and cut my hair off- Then I started hearing other girls whispering to each other that I looked like a lesbian- gasp- which, again, was actually pretty funny, 'cause then I'd just tell them not to get their hopes up 'cause I wasn't available.

Then I graduated, and moved, and it turns out I'm actually kind of hot funny smart and successful, and whenever I fall into the deep deep pit of dumb ugly stupid imposter-syndrome, I remember that as mean as other kids were sometimes, their parents thought I was the best.

So anyways get fucked Gabe from ninth grade, your mom used to give me candy and bail me out of detention. I had the biggest fucking crush on your mom dude

[fum1ku]

LOVE TROPES - HQ BOYS

ft. osamu miya, daichi sawamura, kei tsukishima, keishin ukai, atsumu miya

should i be working on the highly requested pt. 2 to my recent works that’s currently sitting in my drafts? yes. should i also probably be working on the few requests i’ve got in my inbox? also yes. am i still over here writing whatever this is instead of doing those things? absolutely. at least i’m writing something!

OSAMU: friends to lovers.

you had been friends with the miya twins since high school. you had always butt heads with atsumu; bickering back and forth about anything and everything. but it was different with osamu. it felt like you both understood each other, in a way. plus the mutual dislike you both had for atsumu definitely helped. and now, nearly 8 years later, your friendship was still going strong.

well past 8pm, you stood over the front counter at onigiri miya with samu cleaning behind the counter for closing, and atsumu sitting at a stool next to you.

“i don’t know what his problem is! we go out for drinks one night, wind up at his place, and then the next day he can’t even be bothered to send me a single fucking text. seriously. i’m done!” you were going on about your.. most recent boyfriend.

“why don’tcha just dump him then?” atsumu offered, his mouth full of the onigiri osamu had made for him.

“atsumu, you’re disgusting! and i can’t because we aren’t even a thing! which is good—i don’t want us to be.”

osamu laughed at you two from behind the counter.

“okay well then what’s the problem! i don’t understand you women,” atsumu exclaimed, licking off the last bits of onigiri form his fingertips and shoving his plate behind the counter. “i’ve got practice tomorrow. so i’m gone. some of us actually have real problems that aren’t centered around one night stands with guys!”

“oh right, atsumu, like your sex life is any better,” you muttered. the door slammed shut behind him as the bell above the door exhibierst through the building.

you sighed, sinking further into your chair.

“here,” osamu slid a plate towards you. “might make ‘ya feel better. plus i need feedback to see if it’s worth addin’ to the menu.”

you smiled. “thanks, osamu. and yeah, i’ll give good feedback, promise!”

osamu smiled to himself as he wiped down the back counter. yeah, sure, after 8 years of pining he was no closer to asking you out. but, no matter what, he’d always be here to make you food whenever another boy made you cry.

DAICHI: love at first sight.

it had been a long practice and daichi had decided to treat everyone to a snack down at sakanoshita. daichi stood with suga and asahi waiting for the 1st and 2nd years to finish grabbing their fill. tanaka and noya had seen daichi paying as an opportunity to grab whatever they wanted.

“c’mon you guys!” suga yelled from across the store. “we don’t have all day!”

it has been a long day of classes for you, so it wasn’t even an option in your mind whether you should stop at the convenience store or not. only now you had found yourself in your own little debate.

“milk tea.. or coffee?” you mumbled to yourself. you were bent down over the drinks section taking your sweet time.

daichi turned around to see you and knew he was gone right then and there.

suga scoffed at the two 2nd years taking their time, only to turn back and find daichi’s gaze focused on you.

“hey, daichi, maybe we should—” he started, but stopped as soon as he noticed daichi staring. he whispered to asahi and they both began berating their poor captain.

“c’mon, dude! why don’t you just go talk to them? we obviously have the time!” suga nudged at his arm.

daichi denied anything. “hey, i don’t even now what you’re talking about, suga! we’re here for snack for the team, just go focus on that.”

“hey, don’t we go to school with them? y/n l/n. class 2, i think,” asahi piped up. he couldn’t remember where exactly he knew you from, though.

daichi was sure if he had gone to school with you, he’d remember.

“they’re in photography club! that’s how i know them! they asked me to join after i dropped out of volleyball,” asahi recalled, loud enough to grab your attention.

you looked up to find the set of 3rd years staring in your direction. your drink in hand, you made your way up to them.

“azumane, right? nice to see you again!” you beamed.

“y-yeah, right! good to see you too, l/n,” he smiled, nervously.

“are you guys in line?” you questioned.

“no—no we’re not! sorry about that!” daichi apologized, moving to the side to allow you to get to the register.

you placed your drink on the counter, making small talk with the guy at the front register.

“c’mon, daichi! if you don’t ask them before they leave you might not get to again!” suga whispered.

“suga, let it go. it’s too strange—they don’t even know me.”

suga shoved daichi forward just as you turned around to make your way towards the door.

“oh! hi!” you mused.

“s-sorry. hi.. again.”

“sawamura, right? you’re the captains of the volleyball team!” you smiled.

“yeah, i am. and you’re l/n, right? asahi was telling me about you. you’re in photography.

“i am, actually! and please, just call me y/n!”

“then just call me daichi!”

first name basis after 10 minutes? way to go daichi!

“actually..” you started. “i was wondering if it’d be possible for me to take some action shots of the volleyball team? i was going to use them for an upcoming project of mine. of course if not, that’s okay too! you probably need to talk it over with the team.”

“yeah—absolutely! i’ll have to talk it over with everyone, but i don’t see it being a problem at all,” he said, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “what class are you in? i can talk to you some time next week to figure out what day would work best.”

“here,” you said, turning around to the man behind the counter. “excuse me, do you have a pen i could borrow?”

the man tossed you a pen, not giving a second look to you from behind his magazine. you pulled out daichi’s arm and started scribbling down numbers.

your.. phone number?

“now you can call me, that’ll be easier!” you smiled. “anyways, i gotta run. see you later, daichi. tell azumane i said bye too!”

he was speechless. did he really manage to get your number without even trying?

suga ran up behind him. “dude! how? you hardly said anything to them!”

“wow, daichi’s got skills with the ladies!” tanaka mused, noya trailing behind them. their arms were stacked full with all kinds of snacks.

he was definitely not paying for all of those.

KEI: academic rivals to lovers.

you worked at the library at the university you attended. tsukishima had seen you around campus a few times. yamaguchi would go as far as to describe you as tsukishima’s “campus crush”—which tsukki of course denied. he hardly even knew you.

but, this semester is when things finally got interesting. you had wound up taking the course tsukishima was the TA for.

you were currently bent down behind a bookshelf in the campus library, organizing the books that needed to be put away. you noticed a hand grab a book off your cart.

you stood up. “anything you need help finding?”

“no,” the man stated, blankly.

you examined the book in his hand. “wait. are you in psych 301? haven’t seen you in there before.”

“kei tsukishima. i’m the assistant in that class this semester.”

“oh! i’m y/n l/n. are you reading that book for fun then, or?”

“i know. i graded your last essay. something about the human consciousness or whatever,” he stated, pushing his glasses to the bridge of his nose.

your face went hot. “oh? so you were the one that gave me a B- on that. that was the best paper i’ve written all semester!”

“yeah, only because you can’t write any better ones. and maybe actually read the syllabus before you join the class,” he deadpanned.

“okay, mr. know-it-all. and for what it’s worth, i did in fact read the syllabus.”

“well if you actually paid attention, then you’d know this book was meant to be read alongside the other materials.”

wait. what?

before you could say another word, he placed the book back down in the cart. “my email is on the syllabus if you’d actually care to read it. good luck actually passing the class.”

you were so going to find that syllabus. and you were definitely doing to pass that class.

KEISHIN: second chance.

stepping foot into sakanoshita after years felt like a dream. but seeing keishin, your high school boyfriend, sitting there behind the counter, was what really sent you back.

“keishin?”

ukai actually took the time to look up form his magazine, and he was glad he did. “y/n?”

“keishin!” you smiled. “i didn’t realize you family still owned the place!”

he stood up form his seat behind the counter. “yeah! work here part-time, coach volleyball the other half.

“you coach volleyball? does the old ukai not coach anyone then?”

“nah, old man retired last year. still coaches a few younger kids on the side. but, hey, how have you been? it’s been years since i last saw you in miyagi. 4? 5, maybe?”

“yeah,” you sighed. “it’s definitely been awhile. but life has been great in tokyo. my internship finally ended and so i’m back here for the next month or two!”

“really? you got to let me take you out sometime—drinks, to celebrate.”

you felt the slight rush of heat to your cheeks. “r-right! of course!”

“hey, if you wanted, we close in less than an hour. you could wait here till then, catch up, then let me take you out for drinks.”

“alright,” you smiled, taking a seat behind the counter next to ukai. “tell me about your team then. where do you coach? karasuno?”

you felt like you were 16 all over again. just him and you.

ATSUMU: opposites attract.

you were the promotional manager for the msby black jackals. everyone on the team loved you—yes, even sakusa. though he wouldn’t admit it. but, atsumu being the sly guy he is, took every opportunity to flirt with you. of course, keeping things professional, you shut him down every chance you got. plus, it would never work. ever. you knew that.

he was childish, you were mature—top of your office only a few months in. he was selfish half the time, and he’d always describe you as one of the most thoughtful people he’s ever met. he was confident and bold. you were quiet and reserved, at least time him. so when you find yourself alone with him at the gym one night late after practice, going through your binder of advertising ideas, you didn’t know what to make of it. the way you could feel he eyes focused on you and only you drove you insane.

you finally took a break form your rant about new promotional ideas for the team, leaving a heavy silence between the two of you.

“y/n?” he finally said, breaking for silence.

“yeah, atsumu?” you respond, not looking up form your binder.

“you should let me take ‘ya out. i mean it.”

you quietly gasped to yourself.

sure, atsumu had made pass after pass at you every day for the last few months since you started working with the team. but, this time, he sounded so.. genuine.

what’s even worse is you couldn’t help yourself from the words the escape your lips in the last moment.

“okay.”

© fum1ku 2024.

⁂ taglist: @chloiyoomi @eashn + let me know if you want to be added! 💌

[voltronisanobsession]

A small teen wolf thought I had

I’m really missing season 1 Stiles, so let’s imagine him having a crush on reader😍

We all know how Stiles had an enormous crush on Lydia, it was absolutely devastating tbh. Like this dude was lowkey devoted to her💀💀

So what if a new student (reader) moved into town and it’s love at first sight for him. He’d bump into you after rambling to Scott about whatever was on his mind and knocks your binder and books to the ground.

Helping you pick up your stuff, right when he’s giving you your notebook, he’d look up and just. Stare. Cuz ZOOWEEMAMA YOURE ABSOLUTELY STUNNING IN HIS EYES

You’re busy thanking him and apologizing for the collision, waiting for him to let go of the notebook, voice slowly fading out when you notice him just staring at you with his mouth slightly open.

“Thanks for helping me. Can I have my book?”

“Uh huh.”

“…”

“…”

“Stiles, you know you have to let go of the notebook.” Scott is trying his best not to slam his head in a locker when his friend still doesn’t let go LMAO

Your chuckle snaps him out of whatever daze he was in, causing him to blush and apologize awkwardly. You’d smile at him and in good nature, joke about it and walk away, leaving him in awe.

Most people would normally give him the stink eye, but seeing how you joked about it made his heart flutter a bit.

Everything is HISTORY after that. If you have any classes with Stiles, you already KNOW he’s gonna try and sit as close to you as possible. Teacher assigns partner or group projects? He’s springing out of his seat and going to you first. You both have the same lunch period? He’s inviting you to sit with him and his friends. You’re having trouble with a certain class? Man, he’s already offering to help you after school, you’ll nail that test with flying colors!

You just get him! You like his sarcasm and MIRACULOUSLY understand his random references from movies and video games! With all the time you guys spend together, his crush on you grows more and more.

You appreciate how Stiles is so interested in the things you like and dislike. You love how he asks why you enjoy a certain movie despite the terrible reviews it got. Why you dislike an artist he just began listening to. You both love the same things, but have different opinions on everything, every conversation flows so naturally with him that you can’t help but develop a crush on him too.

You’ve never met anyone as eccentric and energetic as him, he never fails to bring a smile to your face teehee

Stiles is the type to remember every little, seemingly insignificant, thing about his crush. When your birthday rolls around, this dude has so many gifts ready😭 a warm feeling fills you when you open one gift to see it’s an item you’ve mentioned in a passing convo yall had MONTHS ago

He’s so sweet and kind with you too like don’t get me started. Stiles just enjoys being around you and seeing you happy makes him happy. SEASON 1 STILES IS THE DEFINITION OF PUPPY LOVE LIKE UGGHH

Takes you out on late night drives, barges into your room through the window with any takeout food you’ve been craving. Hed even take you out on a mini ‘date’ to the local arcade!!! his dad sees how much you mean to his son and is super happy that Stiles is happy. Loves when you come over to study with him, he’s always telling you stories about when stiles was younger (he would definitely cover your ears with his hands and speak loudly over his dad LMAO)

I’m telling y’all, stiles having a crush on you is the cutest thing ever, especially if you reciprocate his feelings!!!When you guys get together, cuz it’s not a matter of if with his friends, you’re the ultimate duo.

He’d confess his feelings for you in the most cheesiest way ever, probably during or after a school dance cuz why not.

UGH I NEED TO WRITE MORE STILES STUFF I LIVE HIM SM‼️ HE WAS NEVER THE SAME AFTER SEASON 3😭😭😭

[lnfours]

false god | l.n

summary: we might just get away with it.

warnings: based off of ‘false god’ by taylor swift, brothers best friend!lando, fewtrell!reader, mutual pining, sexual themes, this stupidly hot outfit bc he always looks good in black. also this is kind of trash but i really wanted to get something out for you guys 😩

masterlist | listen | ask box

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

the rain was pattering hard against the window in your room, but it was simply background noise as you played music softly from your computer. you hummed quietly to the song playing, your pencil scratching against the notepad before the soft ping let you know you had gotten a text.

lando

you still awake?

you grabbed your phone, unlocking it and typing back.

yea, why? can’t sleep?

a couple of seconds later your phone lit up again, a new message from him appearing on your lockscreen.

yea, still jet lagged.

wanna watch a movie or something? max and p went on a date and left me all alone 😩

you chuckled, typing back a response.

pretty sure that’s the point of a date 🤔

but sure, doors open

he disliked the first message, which made you chuckle before you heard footsteps echo down the hallway. your door creaked open, the brunette joining you on your bed as you closed your notebook. you pushed the things to the side, tossing him the tv remote.

“your pick this time.”

“i thought i picked last time?” he said, hand resting behind his head as the other grabbed the remote. you looked over at him now, the black shirt hugging his muscles perfectly, the black jeans showing off his thighs and the red backwards hat was about to send you into cardiac arrest.

it was a bad idea to look over at him, especially when the crush you’ve had on him had only worsened over the past day or so, just like it did every time he was here.

“mm, no,” you said, “i picked that scary movie last time, remember?”

“oh yeah, the only reason you picked it was because of that hot dude.”

you scoffed, “no!”

he sent you a smirk, “yeah, okay,”

you rolled your eyes and motioned to the tv, “just pick a movie, i’m gonna go make some popcorn. want anything?”

he twisted his lips in thought while you stood up. his eyes traveled over your figure as you put the stuff on your desk, the thin pajama shorts hugging your curves, the oversized hoodie falling down a little bit to return back to the tops of your thighs, you just looked so good to him right now. you always do, but right now especially.

he was quick to look away from your body, eyes meeting yours as you spun around, “just a water, please.”

you nodded, exiting the room and he let go of the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. he wasn’t sure when it had happened, but every time he saw you recently, his chest got tight. he wasn’t supposed to feel this way about his best friends sister, she was off limits. especially to him.

he was lost in thought until the microwave beeping in the kitchen echoed and pulled him out of it, reminding himself that he still had to pick a movie. he scrolled through netflix, settling on one he had seen before but knew you’d like.

you handed him his water, which he thanked you for before you plopped down on the bed. you put the popcorn in the middle of you two before starting the movie.

at some point the popcorn had been moved to the floor, the two of you getting closer and closer without really realizing until his finger bumped against your pinky. you sucked in a shaky breath, waiting to see if he would move it. he did the same, looking down to see if you were going to pull away.

when you didn’t, he made the next move and wrapped his pinky around yours. you didn’t want to make it obvious that you weren’t looking at the movie, but you really wanted to glance over at him.

he did it for you, though, turning and looking at you before bringing a hand up to your jaw, turning your head to look at him. you almost folded, right then and there. your heart beating out of your chest and everything was happening so quickly.

but when you met his soft eyes, glowing in the light of the small lamp you had kept on and the light from the tv, all the nerves washed away, “lando,”

his voice was quiet as he softly pulled away, “sorry, i.. uh, i don’t know-“

you shook your head, grabbing his hand and putting it back on your cheek, “no, it’s okay.”

he nodded, eyes flickering between your eyes and your lips quickly, having a mental debate with himself on wether or not he should take it a step further.

you took matters into your own hands, though. readjusting as you got closer. he watched you intently, his eyes locked on every move, the movie on the tv long forgotten about as the two of you breathed out. his green eyes were piercing right into yours. he leaned in a little closer, pressing his forehead against yours.

“i shouldn’t want to,” he breathed softly, “but i really want to kiss you.”

your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, “maybe you should.”

“it would ruin everything,”

“not if he doesn’t find out.” you were inches apart now, his hands on your hips as you hovered over him. your heart felt like it was going to bust through your rib cage and it was all you could hear as the room fell silent.

it didn’t last long as his voice broke through the tension, “fuck it.”

he nudged your nose with his, meeting your lips in a kiss that sent tingles down your spine. you kissed him back, letting his hands grip you a little tighter as his tongue licked against your bottom lip.

the kiss carried on for a while, neither one of you wanting to pull away when he rolled the both of you over so now he was the one hovering over your frame. his necklace dangled above your chest, lips moving from yours as they peppered kisses against the base of your throat.

“fuck,” he mumbled against your skin, “‘ve wanted this for so long.”

you hummed back, fingers running through the curls on the back of his neck, breathing out a soft, “me too.”

you brought one hand down his spine, gripping at the hem of his shirt as you tugged it up, revealing the soft skin of his back. he understood what you were saying with your movements, pulling the material over his head and tossing it to the floor.

once he turned back to you, it was your turn to have his hands ride up the sweatshirt you were wearing, his fingers soft against your skin. you giggled when he accidentally moved over your ribs, a smirk spreading across his face.

“you’re still ticklish there?”

you nodded, “unfortunately.”

“good to know,” he was definitely going to keep that in mind.

his lips met yours again as he kissed you sweetly, which turned hungry in a matter of a few minutes as he helped you out of the sweatshirt.

however, the sound of the front door closing made the two of you jump apart, lando pausing his movements as he froze above you.

“we’re back!”

“shit,” you mumbled, the footsteps nearing your door as the two of you separated. you pulled the first article of clothing you could find over your head.

“just hide in here till he goes away.” you mumbled, shoving lando towards the closet. he chuckled, but opened the door anyway.

“i like being your little secret,” he teased, “we should do this more often.”

you rolled your eyes, “shut up!”

you closed the door before he could speak again, flopping back on the bed before your bedroom door opened. you looked towards your brother, a soft smile on your face as he held up the container for you.

“brought you back dinner.”

“thanks, you can just put it on the desk.”

he nodded, walking into your room before eyeing you down, “you alright? your hairs a mess and you look frazzled.”

you nodded, smoothing your hair over with your palms, “‘m good, just woke up from a nap.”

he nodded, now his eyes falling to the shirt you were wearing, “is that lando’s shirt?”

you nearly choked, but looked down at the material you had thrown on. sure enough, it was the shirt lando had thrown on the floor a mere ten minutes before your brother rudely interrupted.

“huh, guess so,” you tried to play it cool, “guess it got mixed up in my laundry. just kinda grabbed it earlier.”

he nodded, sending you a look which made it look like he wasn’t totally buying what you were saying, “okay..” you licked your lips nervously, “p and i are gonna watch a movie, you can join if you want.”

you nodded, “yeah, i’ll think about it.”

“oh, is lando home?” max asked, “i had something to ask him.”

he spun on his heels, turning towards the door, but you cut him off before he could investigate himself, “nah, i think he went out.”

your brother nodded, “damn, alright. just let me know if you wanna watch the movie.”

you nodded, “i will, thanks.”

he closed the door behind him on the way out, lando soon opening the closet door quietly to leave the closet. you smirked when his eyes met yours, the two of you breaking out into quiet laughter as he joined you back on the bed.

“you div! you took my shirt instead of your hoodie?”

you laughed softly, “i’m sorry! i grabbed the first thing i could find.”

he smiled, hovering back over you, “you look better in it, anyway.”

“you know where it looks even better?” your arms were slung around his neck now.

“where?” his smile was still on his face.

“the floor,”

he laughed softly, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, “mind reminding me?”

you hummed, “i guess i could show you.”

[olderthannetfic]

gahhhh how are people going to university and STILL make mistakes like waste/waist, should have/should of, wonder/wander, there/their/they're, etc? Like, you'd think because I'm ESL I'd be more likely to make these kinds of mistakes but no, I figured out most of this ages ago. It's usually native speakers that make the worst kinds of these mistakes too!

Like I get not everybody's education is amazing or anything but come on dude. It's not that I don't believe you're in university but when you make mistakes like these I'm just... how the fuck? How does that happen? Has seriously NOBODY in your entire time in school pointed this out to you? This is the kinda shit I associate with high schoolers, not uni students.

I know this is like. Petty at best but it's still baffling.

--

These are indeed native type mistakes, and being older doesn't usually solve them.

In my experience, they tend to happen most to people who just don't notice nitpicky details and whose eyes skip over the difference even when they're reading something correctly spelled and comparing it to their own misspelled thing. It may also be that someone learned these things wrong in the first place, so they're sure they're right until directly confronted.

You don't know what you don't know... you know?

I can't think of a single university class where this would have been pointed out. I had literature classes, sure, but I did not have basic composition classes. I disliked writing essays, so I mostly avoided professors who assigned a lot of them. It's possible an individual assignment might have gotten marked up for this kind of error, but it's more likely someone would just get a bad overall grade for "proofreading" or "spelling" or something.

--

Now, granted, I didn't actually make any of these errors back then or any other time, but that's because 1. I do notice nitpicky things naturally and automatically and 2. I read grammar/usage blogs.

The main way a person is going to notice these Ten Top Words Everybody Gets Wrong errors is not by going to school: it's by reading other people's complaints.

I can't remember which ones I used to get wrong off the top of my head... wait! Restaurateur. I thought there was an n! Why isn't there an n?! I got all the way to like... last year (?) with that one still wrong.

--

"Should of" drives me insane too, but I'd be more likely to think the person has attention problems or that they don't read much than that it's shocking they're in college.

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR FIFTEEN

in which Eddie learns what it means to be honest, and you learn that some answers can only lead to more questions.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, smut, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 4.7k+

→ a/n: this chapter is my enemy. that's all. all the homies hate this chapter for the hell it gave me both in writing it and posting it

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

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15:00 ────────ㅇ─────── 24:00

SIX MONTHS EARLIER

You were so caught up in your own disappointment, you never saw the flash of recognition that crossed Eddie’s face. Only the anger that followed.

“Is that the dude who stood you up?” 

His voice is weak as he asks the question, a breath that barely reaches your ears as you jump at the unexpected proximity. 

“What?” you spin around to face him, “Jesus Christ, why are you creeping over my shoulder at my phone? Trying to see who else doesn’t follow me on Instagram?” 

He cringes at your bitter tone, all the vodka you’ve turned to venom in your hurt, “You didn’t answer my question – is that him?” 

“Why do you care?” 

It’s the short version of the real questions binding you. A million different threads of confusion, and each one constricts you tighter than the last, all of them tangling together in the confusion. 

Why do you care when you dislike me so vigorously? Why do you care when you’ll only use my answer as ammunition against me? Why do you care to hurt me so badly tonight? Why do you care if Nancy and I are friends? Why do you care to point out how I don’t belong in this group-

“I don’t,” he interrupts your internal panic, pausing the restless twisting of anxious twine. 

You take a deep breath, you let your eyes wander over him, taking him in. He’s ditched the soft-spoken act, his voice coming out powerful finally. The confidence is almost overdone; he sounds as if he’s trying to make up for something not there. 

You crave for distance to be put between the two of you, but he makes no move to step away as you ask, “Then why do you keep asking me?” 

You can’t begin to understand him, completely unsure of where to ever start with the task. He’s a hollow stranger of the man you’d initially met that night in the bar. You’ve seen how he acts with the others, how he treats Nancy like royalty at times and how he’s warm with Argyle. You’ve seen him share joints and laughter alike with Jonathan. It’s hard to miss when he and Steve both begin to get overly passionate about a topic, Robin always finding a way to join in. Eddie is capable of warmth and care, of friendship and genuine love, but not when it comes to you. 

“I was just curious, sue me.” 

“If I had a good lawyer, I would,” you snap back quickly, patience wearing thin. 

It makes him grin – a damn grin. Shit-eating as ever as he replies, “I know a guy if you’d like one,” and he keeps grinning, and you don’t even notice when a line is crossed and that faux glee no longer meets his eyes as he continues,  “Speaking of knowing a guy – do you know the guy on your screen?” 

The threads are twisting again, and the friction is leaving your blood boiling. “Fucking obviously.” 

“Is he the one who stood you up?” 

“Fuck off, Eddie.” 

You can’t handle this right now. You’re drunk – not so drunk you won’t remember the night, but still damn drunk – and you’re overthinking. Letting the threads cut off circulation to your brain, letting yourself only be consumed with overthinking about your place within the group. You don’t even have the capacity to question why Eddie is so persistent in finding out about the bartender who left you looking like a fool the night before; you miss his genuine, burning curiosity and the anger that still broods in him as your anxiety bubbles up. 

Were you and Nancy friends? Maybe Instagram did matter. Surely, she followed everyone else in the group, didn’t she? 

“Why won’t you just answer the question? Why are you so damn stubb-” 

“You don’t care!” you nearly scream, throwing your hands up in defeat, slamming your phone down onto the counter beside you, “You don’t care, you’ve made that clear, so I don’t understand why you need to hear me say it so fucking badly. Why do you need to hear me admit how pathetic I am? We both know where this is going – I say yes, you use it against me, I end up looking like a fool for a second night in a row,” your chest heaves and your eyes burn, but you won’t look at him. You can’t bear witness to him watching you bleed in the middle of Steve’s kitchen, “I’m not doing it. Not tonight.” 

He looks as if you had slapped him. Stunned, aghast, taking a step back to finally give you the space you had so desperately craved. You don’t even really care about it anymore; the damage is done and you’re already spiraling, thanks to him. 

“Do you think so little of me?” 

His voice is small again. Deceptively soft, a treacherous whisper you know you can’t look into. He’s not really hurt. It’s all probably an act, a guise to get you to play into how he wants the night to go. 

“With what you’ve given me to work with?” you scoff, still blinking your eyes rapidly, trying to stave off the waterworks, “Yeah. Yeah, I am starting to think that little of you.” 

“Have you considered I was just trying to be friend-” 

You’re not sure how his sentence is going to end, whether he would claim to be trying to be friendly or trying to be friends. You’re not sure which one makes you more livid.

It’s the second one. “You just mocked me, made me doubt if I had fucking friends all because of Nancy not following me on Instagram. Don’t you dare say you were trying to be friends with me right now.” 

If you were more sober, you would have cursed yourself for blatantly revealing to him that he’d gotten to you. Your wounds were now on display for him, and you stiffened as you realized and awaited the expected handful of salt he’d be rubbing into them. 

We thought he wasn’t going to come, so we invited you instead.

The fight’s only just begun and you’ve already lost – not just this battle, but the entire war.

You know they would choose him. If your friends were given the choice between you two, they’d choose him. And it shouldn’t sting, it’s expected given how long the group has known each other, but Eddie’s animosity towards you has done nothing to soothe the ache stirred by that truth. You would never ask them to choose, you know better, but you’ve always known the answer.

It’s him, not you. 

“I was joking-” 

“No, that was not joking. It wasn’t funny. It was mean.” 

Mean, cruel, ruthless. What Eddie did rings sharply in your chest, in your brain that’s currently running on overtime to process your waves of emotions. The threads are so tight, you expect to see a puddle of blood at your feet on Steve and Robin’s kitchen floor. 

“As if you’re any better,” he sharply laughs in disbelief, shaking his head, “You want to talk about mean? Let’s talk about my date with Chrissy and you’re fucking fiasco.” 

Your stomach drops. The battlefield lurches into uneven ground, because what you did really was unfair. But you had been bitter, and you had been mean, and you had been…. 

You had been jealous. Jealous not of the romance that was honestly leaving much to be desired between him and Chrissy, but that platonic friendship. The kind you had yet to earn from him. The kind you were starting to doubt if you ever had, genuinely, with the rest of the group. 

“I’m-”

“Sorry? Yeah, well, sorry don't make her call me back.” 

This is where, if you were speaking with anyone besides Eddie, you offer a real, genuine apology. 

But you’re speaking with Eddie. You’re burnt out from a long week, your pride still remains wounded, you’re suddenly questioning if you even have any friends, you’re drunk, and you’re speaking with Eddie. 

A genuine apology would be like terrible shards, dredged up your throat and being clung to desperately by your whining pride. You’re bleeding enough as it is without that. 

“My apologies, friend. I am so terribly sorry you weren’t able to get your dick wet.” 

You both deserved what was coming, really. You deserved it. Because suddenly, just as it always ended up between you two, hateful words were exchanged. The worst part isn’t when Eddie snarks about how at least he can get his dick wet, unlike you, nor is it when you spit out how being a slut isn’t something to be proud of. It’s a blur of sharp tongues and jabbing knives, both of you swiping for any which way to make the other bleed. 

It’s the cruelest you’ve been to each other yet, because somewhere below all of the surface-level insults, there’s real pain pulsing there. There’s your bloodied threads of anxiety, wretched thoughts and doubts as to if you should even be in this apartment tonight. There’s something more in the lines that form between Eddie’s furrowed brows as he matches your anger. His volume raises right along yours, and whenever his voice breaks over certain quick-dagger remarks, you don’t look into it. Especially not when it happens as he brings up the bartender again. All the failed dates, as he so kindly reminds you of. 

“For someone who claims to not fucking care, you sure do talk a lot about those ridiculous fucking dates,” you seethe finally. Somewhere in the argument, you’d downed the rest of your drink, leaving an empty glass beside you. 

“Because they prove my point!” he shouts in exasperation, “Because you… you… you can’t take a fucking hint.”

A final thread wraps around your throat. You feel as if you can’t breathe. 

“And what is that hint, exactly?” your tone shakes as you ask it, past anger and past heartbreak. 

Why do you still care what he thinks? Do you still care what he thinks?

The vodka says yes. 

Yet Eddie says no, shaking his head immediately.

“Oh, so now you don’t want to speak your mind?” you hate how vulnerable you are, the lilt of your voice with unshed tears and the crack in your chest that you’re sure he can hear. You want to scream, you want to pound your fists against his chest. You want to throw a proper tantrum, like an absolute child. Like a little kid on the playground who no one wanted to play with, “You had all this shit to say, and now you bite your tongue? Fuck you, Eddie.” 

“You don’t want to actually know,” he says flatly. He’s emotionless, and it burns you even further. Here you are, overflowing your cup with all your emotions, and his well has run dry. Even the tick you had managed to get out of his jaw is gone. All the anger, all the false signs of him actually caring have vanished.

You bite down on your lip, struggling to take a deep breath. Trying to even your anger, to bring yourself down to his level. You’re tired of the uneven battle ground. “I don’t? I never knew you were a mindreader.” 

“Don’t have to be a mindreader to see the way you’re about to burst into fucking tears.” 

You suddenly wish you could take the glass on the counter beside you and just toss it at him, full force. Make him physically bleed as he continues to stab at your pride, your ego, your emotions. 

You’re not even sure he’d bleed at this point. Maybe he’s a fucking robot designed to do nothing but hurt you. 

“Fuck you,” you state plainly as the first tear falls, repeating yourself with a more vindictive tone, “Fuck you. It’s not like you care about my fucking feelings, so just say it.” 

 “Fine,” he’s still so indifferent, still so emotionless, “You’re so dense, you never realize that you’re not wanted. Not by those assholes, not here-” 

It’s your final breaking point. You don’t care to hear the rest of his sentence, temper taking the reins as you reach for the glass beside you. 

You throw as hard as you can. 

You tell yourself it’s dumb luck and bad aim when the glass shatters against the wall behind Eddie and not his shocked face. Not mercy. Not the ghost of hope, evaporating with a whisper of glass shards as the final shovel full of dirt falls upon the grave. You can see it clearly, the gravestone that marks the fresh grave: Here Lies Possibility. Here Lies All That Could Have Been. 

It’s over. Eddie knows it – his emotion finally shows, but you don’t stick around to see it. 

Eddie’s wrong. For once, you see you’re not wanted, and make the choice to leave.

—

HOUR FIFTEEN - 6:00 AM

“It was about you. I got banned because of you.” 

You don’t know how to respond at first. Honesty hangs heavy between the two of you, suffocating in the morning light. 

You asked him for honesty. He gave you honesty.

It should be a celebration, but all it does is build a pit in the bottom of your stomach that threatens to weigh you down to the bottom of his ocean. 

When you finally respond, you enunciate each word carefully, “Eddie. What do you mean?” 

“I got banned. From the bar. Because of you.”

“No, yeah, I gathered that,” you stress, the crease between your brow deepening, “But…. I… elaborate?”

You can hear the cars on the street below, echoing honks and engines thrumming. Songbirds sing in the distance and shops are opening; the entire world surrounding you two is awakening with a long yawn and a gentle stretch. 

Your world feels as though it is coming to a full stop, but life is carrying on. 

“Which part?” he breaths out a humorless laugh, “The part where I got banned, or the part where it was because of you? Because the ban is pretty straight forward – I threw a punch at a guy, he threw a punch back, now I can’t step foot in Fat Tuesday on Mill Ave-”

“The part where it’s because of me, you idiot,” you interrupt him in exasperation, “What the hell do you mean you got banned because of me?” 

Silence. You’re met with silence. 

Maybe honesty has run dry, just like that. 

You search his face and count your luck, at least he admitted this much, before sighing, “Okay. You don’t have to tell me-” 

The honesty comes bursting out of him. The well of it is anything but dry, “It was the bartender that stood you up. He was there that night after our fight, after the party at Steve’s.” 

The bartender. 

You hadn’t thought of that guy in ages, had long since forgotten his name and face since he’d bruised your ego. 

“I…” your voice trails off, unsure and unsteady as you take tentative steps away from the balcony’s railing, “I’m… honored?” 

Honored isn’t quite the right word. You really don’t know how to feel right now. Should you be thanking him, assuming it was in your honor that he started the fight? Or should you press on, test the limits of honesty and figure out if you’re interpreting this entire confession incorrectly? 

Eddie chuckles dryly before he suddenly walks over to one of the two lounge chairs on the balcony, a small table separating them adorned with a crystal ashtray, “That’s all?”

“Should I not be?” Confusion bursts and blooms across your face, and Eddie’s only reaction to it is furrowed brows as he sits down, “I mean, you just told me you not only threw a punch, but took a punch from some dude who stood me up on a first date once. I think at the very least I should be-”

“I expected you to have more questions,” Eddie cuts you off as he taps his carton of cigarettes on the table beside you, more of a habit than a necessity. His knee is bouncing with each tap, an invisible beat you try to track and end up failing miserably before you take the other chair beside him, “You always have more questions.” 

I do, you think immediately, I have a million and one questions I can’t ask.

Each question flurries past you in a blur, and you’re sure if they’re capable of making you dizzy that there’s no way Eddie could handle them all being thrown at him. There’s also a small part of you still terrified that pressing too far will send him running; ask one wrong thing, and Eddie will retreat to his tall, defensive walls, once again separating him from you. Progress, no matter how minimal, is progress. You can’t risk backtracking. 

“Of course I do,” you repay his debt of honesty in a quiet tone, nimbly picking at the hem of his sweatshirt as it brushes your thigh. 

“Then ask them.”

“If I ask you more questions, are you going to shut me out?” 

The entire morning stills. The breeze turns stale, the sounds of the Sunday hustling and bustling seemingly pause. 

You can’t help but look into his big, brown eyes. You try to communicate with a single look, a silent plea for him to please say he isn’t. 

“I won’t shut you out,” he’s hardly louder than a whisper, but that’s enough for you.

You don’t know where to start: Did you punch him because of me? Did he say something first? Did you have an ulterior motive? Did you know about my date with him before that night? Did you guys talk about me?

The final one sparks a chill down your spine, uncomfortable at the thought of Eddie having discussed you with the bartender, having been the one to tarnish the man’s view of you enough to leave you stranded at a restaurant alone. 

Normally, you’d slowly ease him to the point of your actual question. But your patience has vanished as you look at him now, as you watch him under the promise that he won’t shut you out.

“How did you know him before the fight?” 

His lips twitch with a grin, “I was a regular, he was a bartender. Can I make it anymore obvious?” 

“Are you quoting Avril Lavigne to me right now?” you ask, flabbergasted before shaking your head in an attempt to clear your thoughts and move past this joke, “You know what? Forget I asked – so he served you often? Were you…. Were you friendly?” 

“Well, he once took me out behind the bar and kissed me, but he never got around to buying me dinner. Might have been because of my mean right hook, but who knows-”

“Eddie,” Your voice cracks in desperation, “Please, be serious. Just for one minute.” 

It kills you to say it, because part of you is convinced this is a vision of the boy you’ve been chasing after for so long. This is the boy who is best friends with Nancy. This is the boy who is always invited without hesitation to smoke with Jonathan and Argyle. This is the boy that Steve and Robin had ranted and raved about in all those classes before you’d met him. This is the boy you’d met that first night in the bar in brief passing, and had been seeking out ever since. 

A boy who felt like coming home after a long week.

It kills you to tell him to quiet down all the grins and jokes that are making your heart ache in such a terribly peculiar way.

“I’m sorry,” something in you gleams with gratuity when his grin takes it’s time fading, him throwing up his hands in faux defense, his playful tone still woven carefully. He’s not shutting you out. “I can be serious. I- Give me a second. Scout’s honor, I can stop fucking around.” 

“You better,” you jilt, caving into the joking ever so slightly. 

It’s easy to do when he looks at you this way. His eyes sparkle as if the honesty has freed him of some great weight. However he had expected you to react, it wasn’t this way. 

All at once, he has become something brand new to you. You’re in his sweatshirt, barefoot on his balcony as you can still smell his last cigarette lingering in the air, and you wonder if you’ve never considered yourself a morning person because you’ve never experienced a Sunday morning with Eddie. If you had felt his morning light like this before, even in a sleep-deprived haze, you would have certainly enjoyed the early hours sooner. 

“Okay, okay,” he takes a deep breath, forces away the grin you can still see in the crinkles beside his eyes, “To answer your question, no. We weren’t really friends, I didn’t even know his name and I’m pretty sure he didn’t know mine. He just knew my order.”

“Whiskey and coke,” you whisper, pulling a knee up to your chin, resting it and looking at Eddie with unbridled softness. Fifteen hours ago, you couldn’t have known nor cared about his go-to drink.

“Whiskey and coke,” he confirms. It’s in the pull of his lips – he’s fighting another smile, feeling just as soft as you are at the way you’ve learned something new about him, “Not that it’s hard to remember. Definitely easier than an amaretto sour.” 

“Amaretto sours are not hard to remember,” you shake your head ever so slightly, chin slipping and lips dragging across the skin of your knee. Eddie’s eyes waste no time focusing on the movement, “Okay. So you two weren’t really friends, that’s good to know. I guess my next question would be, was he working that night?” 

Eddie leans forward, elbows pressing into the tops of his thighs, “Are you asking if I’m badass enough to storm into a bar and throw a punch at the bartender on duty to defend your honor?” 

His words paint quite the picture for you. “Did you?”

“No. Lower your expectations of me, please.” 

It takes everything in you to not just throw your head back in laughter, having to settle on giggles suffocated against the skin of your knee still. You wrap your arms around your shin tightly, keeping your leg folded up into you as you shake with the soft laughter. 

“Okay, one last question - who threw the first punch?” you sigh. The image of how fearful Eddie had looked when he’d first admitted to this entire ordeal is silly now. You already know the answer to this question, he wouldn’t have been so nervous to tell you if he hadn’t been the one instigating the entire thing, but you ask it to humor the two of you. 

It’s a good distraction from the buds and blooms alike, all awakening along your vines. The vines don’t feel so constricting anymore. As a matter of fact, you think you’re able to recognize their beauty for the first time. Verdant greenery lined with splashes of reds, of violets, of yellows that are almost the same brilliant shade of gold that his eyes seemingly flash every time the sun hits them just right. 

“I did,” he answers just as you expected. He also shrinks into himself, just as you had also expected, “I just saw him there, and- actually, I don’t know if this next part is just an insult to injury but I…” he trails off, not taking a single breath as he meets your gaze. You’re sure he’s searching for anger, for repulsiveness, for hurt. He’ll find none. You only nod your head and encourage him to keep going, “Okay, he was there on a fuckin’ date, sweetheart. A date, the night after he stood you up. So I just…I just decked him. And honestly? I don’t regret it. He deserved it.” 

When he’s finally finished spilling his guts, you’re left fighting a grin and an overflowing chest of blooms. He’s flushed and nervous and goddamn it, he beat the shit out of some dude in your honor. You should scold him or be more upset, but you only start laughing again. 

“Why are you laughing?” Eddie scrunches up his face, continuing to lean forward, almost as if trying to get closer to you, “Seriously, what’s so funny about that?” 

You’ve thrown your head back in delight now, just as you had wanted to earlier, and release your hold on your leg as it falls back down from your chest, “Jesus Christ, I wish I could have seen that in person.” 

Eddie’s stunned. But you mean it – if your heartbroken self from six months ago had witnessed that, you would have considered Eddie your best friend immediately. This entire feud would have been cut six months short just from one simple punch. 

“I’m sorry,” you gasp out, desperately trying to compose yourself once more, “I really shouldn’t condone violence. I just – man, I cried over that guy. A whole month of those stupid, cheesy, ‘good-morning-beautiful’ texts, and he had just left me hanging, y’know? I mean, I’m sure he’s not a bad person-”

“No,” Eddie interrupts, smiling right along with you, “No, as far as we should be concerned, he’s a fucking asshole. Fuck defending him, we’re never going to see him again anyways.” 

 We’re never going to see him again. 

Eddie probably has no idea what he’s done, referring to the two of you as a joint unit for the first time in a future tense, but it makes you ache all over. That heartache and warmth you felt for him is no longer secluded to just your chest; you feel it from your toes all the way to your scalp, traveling and leaving kisses of goosebumps in its trail. A sudden yearning floods your entire nervous system, the entire roadmap of your heart and your veins and your arteries – you like the image of you and Eddie, Eddie and you, still being a resemblance of a pair beyond just these measly twenty four hours. You like to imagine being able to call him up out of boredom some time next week. You like the thought of him joining on bar crawls with you and the girls. You like the thought of spending every Sunday morning with him from here on out. 

Some of those are reasonable. Some of those aren’t. The yearning rushes through you all the same. 

“Yeah,” you agree softly, “We’re never going to see him again. Fuck him.” 

Eddie hums and leans back in his chair, finally beginning to relax, leaving you a moment to reflect. 

He was telling the truth, he had been honest; he had gotten banned from a bar for you. He’d seen the bartender who stood you up, and he’d decided to defend your honor. Even after that night. Even after that fight. Even after the glass you had thrown. 

Even after the cruel words he had said. 

The yearning stops in its tracks, coming to a rough halt as you glance up at him sharply. 

Even after the cruel words he had said, even after claiming you weren’t someone who was wanted, he’d defended you. 

“You know what?” he suddenly says, but your mind is still whirling and you can only hum in response, “I kind of like honesty. I sort of dig it,” you wish you could muster up more than a smile as he boyishly grins at you, “What else do you wanna know? Hit me, sweetheart.” 

Sweetheart. The yearning rushes past the floodgates, the pink strikes your cheeks, the ache rings out from the very hollows of your bones. 

You know what you really want to ask him can’t be answered right now. Because even with the change in him, the one that weakens your knees and has you wishing for things in the future, he was still once the man from that night. He still once made you bleed, made you cry. And even if he’s apologized, and you know he means it, it can’t erase that fact. 

And it worries you. Because as all the feelings swell in your chest, you’re left with yet another unanswered question. 

Why would you defend me after that fight?

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[bitethedevil]

I’ve been recently contemplating the idea that no representation of Raphael in the HoH actually looks like him. From Haarlep to the paintings and statues. Aside from the Ascended Fiend face in the archive, every depiction is off. (Of course I know it isn’t that deep. A lot of it was EA stuff, but I like to have fun.)

Do you have any thoughts on this? Why would our favorite cambion fill the home with less than accurate portrayals on himself.

Depictions of Raphael in the House of Hope

In that universe, I 100% think it’s Raphael being Raphael. The two portraits I remember are the one at the fireplace where he is holding a staff and the other one being the one in his armor.

I think it’s like those old paintings of nobles irl. They are not really accurate depictions of the person, but rather a reflection of the beauty standards at the time and society.

The “beauty standard” in the Hells would be to look as scary and as unemotional as possible, I’d imagine. I think the scary part is most seen in portrait one and the unemotional part in portrait two.

In portrait one, he looks powerful and scary. His anatomy is sharper and thinner to make him look even spookier, and his expression is stoic. He also looks like he is mid-battle or conquering something which fits in perfectly with the standard of the Hells. Everyone is expected to participate and contribute to the Blood War. That painting is Raphael going “look how good I am at deviling and how fierce I look despite being a bard”.

The second portrait is much the same. In this one he looks physically stronger than in the first one and the bard part that we see in portrait one (signified by the staff and clothing) is left out. He is in full armor and has a flame from his hand. This portrait, I believe is an homage to daddy. The fire from his hand symbolizing the hellfire from Mephistopheles and he noticeably has the same pale eyes that Meph is described to have. This one is him pointing out that he is also physically strong and related to one of the most powerful devils of the Hells. It wouldn’t surprise me if the other things in this painting that don’t look like him are things that make him look more like daddy dearest.

Now the statues are interesting too. People say that they are supposed to look like Mephistopheles. I’m not sure. Some of them look like Raphael himself like this one:

The others just look like devils to me. I honestly think it’s so simple that it’s Raphael again going “look I’m deviling. I like devils. I’m not a mortal”. I also believe he 100% sees himself like this. I definitely also think there is some self-hatred or dislike that he is making up for with all of this.

He’s such a silly little dude. It’s all just him wanting everyone to see how scary and devilish he is.

(Thank you for the ask <3 Super interesting question)

[strawberrygyuuuu]

𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐘!𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐱 𝐅!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 —> 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 —> 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 —> 𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐲!𝐂. 𝐘𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐧 𝐱 𝐂. 𝐒𝐨𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐂. 𝐁𝐞𝐨𝐦𝐠𝐲𝐮

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 —> 𝐣𝐬 𝐠𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐩𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐝 & 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞.

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 —> 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞. ➽───────────────❥ ⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

This is such chaos

Especially if you match their energy; specifically Beomgyu's

You, gyu and Jun are so loud and chaotic together I just know Soobin sometimes gets a headache

But it's funny cause he's also the one fondly and lovingly staring at y'all even if he complains

"aigo, so noisy.." as if Soobin is actually annoyed 🙄

Just kiss him n he's all smiles and shy

He'd never change it for the world tho; having y'all being loud and laughing together is weirdly not only entertaining

But also a sense of comfort: home.

He'd never wish for it to be different even if it does cause him headaches lol

Boy is just whipped as hell dudes 🤷🏻‍♀️

They are ALWAYS bickering; bg n yj

Yj will full on palm on bg's head and push hard bc why TF does he keep pulling his beanie down, covering yjs eyes?

Then bg wants to complain to one of yous

"soobinnie!!!! Yeonjunie hit me!! Put him in time out!!!>:(" and that cute little pout

Like...what do you want us to do about that?

"babyyyy!!! Junnie-hyung said he wanted to break up with me!!!>:( finish him!!!!" with a cute little pout and you're like ????? No?? wha????

He just told bg to stop tugging on his hair ??? Hello??😭

Yeonjun def remembers everyone's likes, dislikes, especially in food, snacks n drinks

He remembers y'all's favorite meals, drink orders and snacks

He KNOWS what to put on all of your guys plate and never gets it wrong, he js cares enough to know hey! let's not put mushrooms on y/ns and bgs plate !

So hopelessly in love idk dudes

Tom & Jerry: yk & bg

Bg sulks and pouts and gets grumpy when y'all eat without him

This boy just really wants to spend time with his lovers and eating together, having fun and talking or watching sum

Quality time is def Beomgyu's main love language

Gift giving & acts of service for Yeonjun

Quality time & acts of service (physical affection maybe?) for Sooby boobie

The princess treatment in this relationship is real dude

Like....Bro's will tie your shoes for you, buy you n e/o stuff all the time too

"hey, you like these, right, y/n?"

Ex; yj getting bg gummies he always eats without hesitation and then suggested to get every flavor

"I got you three something, go look in your bags, loves."

And it's matching onsies

My melody for bg, pompompurin for yj, pochacco for Soobin and you're prob hello kitty or kuromi

And yj's ears are bright red he's so bashful but is glad you guys liked it

Y'all wear them every night for bed now

Yj is the one spending the most money in this relationship tho, the running joke is he's your guy's little personal sugar daddy lol

It's cause he wants to spoil you guys tho

All of you's do more than enough for him already so there's no need to stress (that's what he says anyways.)

Beomgyu loves testing y'all's patience but dw he'll make it up with smothering wet kisses !!!

He's giggling while you're fuming cause he's so annoying 😭

But it's worth it, loving him, I mean

He prefers to be more private with physical affection so not a lot of pda for yall

Js wants the moments to be between you two four only n for no one else to see or try n judge

Soobinnie loves doing this thing where he sneaks his cold hands underneath your shirt and keep them there while giggling and nuzzling his nose in your neck/shoulder

While you're fighting for your life against his cold hands, mind you 🧍🏻‍♀️

Soobin and yeonjun cook mostly, together usually too

If you get hurt they are soooo concerned and worried but caring and gentle and so loving

Bitches will squeeze and smother the sadness and hurt out of ya

[dangermousie]

Something that struck me extra on this LLTG rewatch - how subtle yet unmistakable the narrative is about the fact that being sheltered and spoiled as a woman is a recipe for disaster.

NN, ill-educated STEM feral child, gets how important marriage partner choice is more than all the rest of them, properly brought up in womanly virtues.

No, I don't mean she yearns for true love (she gets it, eventually, but that is not what she hopes or looks for) - but what she gets and a lot of the rest of the young women we see do not, is that you want a husband you can like and get along with, who can let you be yourself (and who is also acceptable socially because she's pragmatic.)

That is why her first choice, until it's OBE, is Yao - he's sweet and he's a friend and she knows she'd be the boss in that marriage. All the ladies in the capital swoon for Ling Buyi but she is never consciously swayed. She doesn't realize he likes her and she's not someone to build fantasies/pine for someone she can't have (in a way, knowing the man likes her is a necessary precondition for her to be even able to open her heart - she's spent too much of her childhood fruitlessly yearning for familial love to want to repeat that in her marriage.) Yao openly adores her so this allows her to consider him as a partner (that is why Scholar dude never had a chance btw, his courtship style is negging and NN is the last person that would work for.)

In fact, even after she knows Ling Buyi likes her, she is NOT excited to marry him because she doesn't want someone too high a status compared to her and someone as strong-willed as him because what she sees, and a lot of the rest of women looking for husbands in this story do not, that if there is a huge status disparity and a man is used to getting his own way, there is a risk of having yourself subsumed. A lot of the latter half is the two awkward, scarred by various trauma young people navigating boundaries of their relationship and what is OK for them and what is not (Ling Buyi IS used to barking orders, NN is overly defensive about even the slightest suggestions - they eventually meet in the middle and it's lovely but it's even more lovely that the drama shows it takes work and conversations and compromises.)

The thing that she gets, perhaps because she's a pragmatic survivor, is how the choice of a husband is the most important thing for a woman in that society. Her life fully depends on that, even more than of e.g., an Austen heroine, because in addition to those hurdles, this is a polygamous society (so how many other women brought in and how husband treats the legal wife versus concubines etc also is an issue) AND a society where if your husband goes down, you and your kids will be executed/enslaved along with him. We see how badly wrong marriages can go - Yao's eventual wife's first marriage is a great example, where she marries a man who abuses her and kills her family. Or even that one woman who marries a general who dotes on her and is a great husband, but commits treason and is executed (and she's only spared by the grace of the emperor.)

And the fact that all those women swoon for Ling Buyi and want to marry him SHOWS how the sheltered/spoiled thing has fucked them up. Remember princess whatever? She is dead set on marrying Ling Buyi and it's insane to me. Yes, he's good-looking and quasi-son of the emperor who dotes on him (since it's safe to do so, he's outside the dynastic fight) but that's great for about three minutes and boasting at parties. She is so sheltered from reality, she does not think what it would be like to be married to him. I don't mean his revenge quest since nobody knows. I mean if he was exactly who he appears with no other goals. Ling Buyi dislikes her and makes it known. He's rude to her (he's rude in general. Hell, he's rude to his parental family, openly! And emperor lets him get away with it), he clearly looks down on her and at a couple of points he genuinely threatens her and her family with murder. He's not charming or gentle or considerate. THIS IS NOT A MAN YOU WANT TO MARRY OMG!!! It has clearly not occurred to her to think past being carried into this house, envy of all her girlfriends - day in, day out with a rude, violent man who is the emperor's favorite (so you can't really seek help from your family if he doesn't treat you well), who dislikes you and who is entitled to take other wives.

Anyway, I love NN and her pragmatic mind and that she makes Ling Buyi EARN her consent and her loyalty and her love. (But then she is ride or die for him, isn't she?)

[kingdoms-and-empires]

The King's Hound Review

I recently had to go travel and read a few works that I never got around to reading but was interested in.

PLEASE REMEMBER THIS REVIEW IS DONE BY ME AS A READER AND IS MY OWN OPINION.

This means I will review in accordance to my own tastes, how the game caters to me, and what I feel. Do not take my word as gospel, what I may not be interested in or dislike, may be what YOU are interested and love!!!

@the-kingshound

Synopsis:

You are the King’s spouse, his right and left hand, the unstoppable executor of his will. Your name is whispered by enemies and allies with fear and respect alike, some says it’s your arm that bears the weight of the entire kingdom.

They call you the King’s hound. It started as a way to taunt you but it’s not that far away from the truth. Your loyalty is blind, your devotion absolute. The King’s vision is your vision.

Your name will forever mark history alongside theirs.

But for now, you are being shipped to your betrothed, alone and powerless on your way to Camelot.

As the seventh child of the Venegard House, you’ve always had little to look forward to other than an arranged marriage to achieve a political alliance.

That’s exactly why, after your parents lost the rebellion against King Arthur, you were the one sent to him as a sign of newfound peace.

You don’t know what awaits you now, but after you Camelot will never be the same.

Review:

The Good: The project is 18+, and the writing is very well done. It just feels quality. Plus the UI and and dark background are classy. The game is Twine, so you get the save functions of Twine and all that jazz. Anyways, descriptions are well done, the worldbuilding is grounded and helps form the politics in-game. It's thought-out and noticeable. The player customization goes hard and you even get the option to play mute! In The King's Hound, you also find a game that provides the LGBTQ+ demographic and FemMC playing community a welcoming and acknowledging home. The descriptions of the fight scenes and battles (like action set pieces) are good and don't leave you scratching your head. The transitions between paragraphs and pages happen naturally and without breaking pace, which shows the talent of a writer that considers their audience. Also, in regards to the King Arthur mythos and worldbuilding done by the author, i just really appreciate the fact that Camelot is Welsh.

It just gives me an idea of how much the author researched or cares about the mythos to give that respect of origin for the story. I had problems with how King Arthur was being super nice at first, but the author recently stated in a post that Arthur was acting in such a manner because he is deliberately trying to be the opposite of King Uther!

And that in the future, the work will offer more text to reveal that to us, the player.

The Bad: I wouldve liked being able to marry a cousin, niece, sister, or even daughter of King Arthur (or genderbender him) but that is literally my only complaint as a straight dude tryna self insert. The author tells you explicitly that you are marrying the king. If the author decides not to, as is their right and vision, I have no problem whatsoever. I still think the work is well written, and has many elements that i personally fuck with (low fantasy, grounded narrative, adult themes) The fact that i wish the author could change this, is only because i like the work so much. Instead, in this playthrough King Arthur will find that the MC practices

The Ugly: The MAP. But that's only because my history buff mind thinks of the British Isle when hearing these names and when i saw the map it physically gave me whiplash. But youre making your own version of the story, so bully!

The Aftermath: I know this game isnt catered towards me as a straight dude. It is a proud queer game with quality writing, that'd also do really well for the FemMC readers. I would recommend this game to anyone who wants a low fantasy medieval setting, with good writing, and grounded narratives that isn't a straight dude's traditional power fantasy.

Next playthrough, ima be a mute straight girl thatll hoe around King Arthur's court out of sheer spite

^Marci from Dota: Dragon Blood

[rentumblsstuff]

Random Hatchetfield Headcanons

The first time Alice Woodward ever smoked weed was when (after much inner turmoil) she asked Deb to shotgun it with her.

Max has two snaggletoothed incisors which is why people swear to god he has fangs.

Deb also has a snaggletooth which is what inspired the vampire part of Alice’s vampiric sapphic play. Alice also thinks it’s ironic she made a vampire character when Deb is a vegan.

Ruth as a Sophmore hit on Senior Alice a lot. Alice thought it was funny and she and Deb “adopted” her. Max and Steph also put the PANIC in bi panic for Ruth.

Max would find it weirdly hot that Grace wears bathing suits under her clothes because of the idea that he gets to see what her body looks like before even she does.

The hospital is downtown, so Becky Barnes definitely got infected in TGWDLM. Despite never wanting to do it again, Becky climbs the tree as someone calls the HFPD to save Kathy’s cat because she’s still infinitely compassionate even under Pokey’s control. Plus, Pokey knows she wants to get over the trauma associated with climbing trees, so he makes her do it to give her a big number about finally overcoming her past. She accidentally flings the cat as soon as the song starts, which is why in Show Me Your Hands, the cat dies so quickly even though it JUST got called in.

Peter infected Steph who infected Deb who infected Alice in TGWDLM. Pete and Steph would have been Sophomores and Deb and Alice were Seniors, but I always imagine Steph and Deb knowing eachother because MRFC said Steph is in the Smoke Club on Twitter at some point. Assuming Steph’s been a little punk for a while, she’s been in the smoke club since at least Sophomore year, and probably a new inductee the same year as TGWDLM (2018).

Alice and one of her parents (maybe Bill) were also raised in purity culture because we know the Woodwards and the Chastitys go to the same church. The Woodwards probably take it with a grain of salt though (Alice has expressed dislike over Grace’s prudishness)- either that or one of her parents (probably her mom) wasn’t originally from said church and also raised Alice with “this is what you’re learning here, but here’s also what I learned at my church at your age.” Bill was likely the one raised in purity culture because he does NOT LIKE DEB and thinks that if she HAS TO date a girl, she should date someone like Grace Chastity, implying she’s an exemplary teen girl. Ms. Woodward lets Deb sleep over and probably knows she smokes and likes her anyways; three points for Alice’s mom not being the puritanical one.

Ted reads romance novels. He’s a former geek turned sleazeball- you know he reads the smuttiest novels ever and calls them “his research”. He refuses to read any book with the friends to lovers trope because it’s too upsetting to think about. (Side note Time Bastard gave us a definite date that timelines don’t branch/reset before depending on whichever theory you believe because the homeless man is in every timeline, meaning that Jenny’s death is fixed in time and never changes: October 7th 2004, so the timelines change anywhere between October 8th 2004 and 2018.)

In whatever timeline Emma finally gets to have her weed farm, she meets Paul when he tells her he was prescribed that marajamij for his anxiety and he was too scared to try Xanax. She thinks he’s kind of cute for a wet cat of a corporate slave. “Fuck the patriarchy? Yes please.” (Side note Paul seems so uptight and unfuckable like bro gotta be blank down there like a Ken doll and has no discernible kinks from what I remember while Emma is laid back and chill asf and like… normal in comparison so yeah sure Paulkins canonically fucks but does Emma enjoy it?? Like dude even Pete’s more fuckable than him come on.)

Pete and Steph don’t kiss when they admit their feelings for eachother even though one of them would die before ever getting to kiss each other because they both think it’ll only make it that much harder to go through with sacrificing the other. One of the reasons Pete also chooses to be the one to take the bullet because he doesn’t think he even COULD pull the trigger on her. Like it’d be physically impossible for him, in his mind.

TGWDLM was originally meant to be an allegory for the institution brainwashing us. Show Me Your Hands and America’s Great Again: examples of people in power working for and fulfilling the evil wishes of some almighty, otherworldly, inhuman THING (be it aliens, be it those in power). It’s clearly meant to satirize the way that power corrupts and tries to convince you its way is better. Even Hidgens, THE FUCKING TEACHER, tries to teach his student that it will be better for everyone to join in that corruption and give in to the hive mind. This reminds me of how the school system in America tries to paint our history as something glamorous; manifest destiny instead of genocide of the indigenous populations. The people in power convincing those under them that the deaths of countless lives is a good thing and it will pave the way to a better future. Cool motive, still murder. Which is why Emma “Fuck the Patriarchy” Perkins is the last one to be infected. She was incapable of being brainwashed , and even when she was the last one left, she saw that the people watching didn’t care, and the all-consuming threat of corrupted power closes in on her until the very last moment.

The Lords in Black were going to try to convince whoever sacrificed their most treasured something to do more work for them, but Grace required very little convincing. Like Wiggly spoke into her mind like “Gracy-Wace! You forgot my booky-wook! Look in it, see any thing you like? Wanna kill all the pervy-wervys?” And she’s like “holy cow I can kill all the pervy-wervys with this book?” Pete would have needed the most convincing because he’s just lost the only girl who will ever love him (in his mind) and so he’d think these things took away his one chance at true love and NEVER want to deal with them again. Even if they offered him a way to get her back, he’s too smart to know that won’t come without an even bigger price AND too paranoid to think she won’t come back wrong like Max did.

If the Green-Foster family ever did get to move to California and Lex got to be an actress, her interview attitude would be a lot like Reneé Rapp and if she ever got asked about why she’ll openly shit talk people in an interview, she’s like “I used to work retail I learned pretty fast that nothing gets done if you keep your mouth shut.”

[laughingfcx]

(why are you still) call(ing) me baby(?)

soundtrack <3

pairing: tetsurou kuroo x f. reader

content: fluff, crack humor, kuroo acts like a (jealous) loser virgin LOL, way too many pet names, it girl energy reader !!!

warnings: swearing, jealous kuroo, misunderstandings, ooc. dry humor kinda but idk. it's weird i'm weird.

word count: .8k

part one.

kuroo actively avoids you until his first break, at which point he's forced to sit near you.

"isn't that too big for you?" he asks when the silence gets comfortable enough. you shrug, tugging the jacket in question tighter around yourself.

"i dunno, they didn't have any spares in my size so they just gave me one of yours."

in that exact moment, kuroo has an epiphany. the world stops moving, and so many things change.

"you can keep it," he forces out with a (fake) cough. a large hand comes up to cover his mouth, but also the dark red blush on his cheeks. "i have like, four of them."

"thanks, baby!"

kuroo's heart does a weird little jump; he chokes on his water and makes an excuse about needing to go to the bathroom.

in the bathroom, he remembers the concept of box breathing. he is forever indebted to whoever discovered it. however, it does not help in the slightest when you accost him as soon as he prepares to go back to the court; there are some things you don't understand! kuroo, baby, you're the captain, so you should definitely help me out here!

he swears under his breath, yes i'm coming, what do you need?

you're pleasantly surprised and a little put off that the effect has worn off this fast. (actually, kuroo's thumb is digging into the palm of his hand, and he thinks he might suffocate.) not to mention, he hasn't picked up any of the (admittedly too-subtle) hints yes been dropping.

okay, next course of action.

"wait, kuroo—"

"yeah?"

"i just realised that, um, yeah you're the captain so it's best to ask you, but also you're the captain, so i'm sure you're suuuuper busy!"

you don't let him get another word in, flitting over to kenma, who's crouched down on the floor, and start talking to him, and your heads are so close together.

kenma is his best friend. he should not dislike kenma. he should not feel jealous of kenma. yet right now, that's exactly what he's doing, exactly what he's feeling. kuroo grits his teeth and pries his eyes away from where they've been burning holes into the back of kenma's head.

"damn, he looked away?" kenma.

"yeah, i guess he doesn't really like me as much as you thought," you sigh.

"stupid, that's not true."

"but—"

you're interrupted by the sound of a volleyball slamming onto the ground. it's louder than any of the ones you've heard before, and slightly terrifying to experience up close.

"woah, kuroo, that was a mean spike!" yamamoto looks excited, but kuroo seems more annoyed than pleased by his success.

"it's fine," he responds sourly. "could be better."

but his junior doesn't seem to notice, coming up to kuroo with a pumped up grin. "no, dude, seriously—"

"i get it!" he snaps. "i don't care."

yamamoto blinks, then slowly backs away. "oh, okay..."

kenma looks away to shield his face from kuroo's eyes, and subsequently to hide the evil smile that's stretching across his face. "see? he's mad."

"maybe he's just annoyed because i'm annoying!"

"you're fucking delusional."

you smile fondly at him, ignoring the insult after years of getting used to them. but that's from your point of view. what kuroo in his deluded haze of jealousy sees is completely different — why are you and kenma so close all of a sudden? and kenma knows he likes you! how could he?

kenma pats your shoulder and gets up, walking towards kuroo with a wry but self-satisfied smirk. kuroo begins to think of ways he can kill kenma and then himself with the ball in his hands as fast as he can. unfortunately, his best friend (and worst enemy) makes it to his side uninjured.

"what's gotten you so pissed off today?"

"nothing, i'm fine," he replies through gritted teeth. it is very obvious that he is in fact, not fine at all. hate permeates him to the core, hands gripping the volleyball like he'll die if he lets go.

kenma snickers, noticing kuroo's glare and white knuckles. "jealous?"

"of course not." one of his eyes begins to twitch; he stares straight ahead and refuses to look at kenma.

he hears a sardonic laugh beside him. "stupid, we were talking about you."

"as if." kuroo's given up on trying to deny anything anymore, but he's still mad.

"no, really," kenma replies. kuroo turns to him with a surprised frown, and kenma shrugs. "so stop being weird, or whatever, kuro."

uncharacteristically, he also pokes kuroo's side; once he sees the venomous look in his eyes he takes off running, videogame console clutched tightly in his hands.

sitting beside lev, you watch the two of them run in circles around the court. a notepad rests in your lap, and you bite the top of your pen thoughtfully. "i dunno, lev, that didn't seem to work either."

"maybe it's time for a new plan," he suggests.

"yeah, maybe."

author's note :: mid writing much apologies <3 written series r insane i like. havent done one in almost a year (yuji x reader u will always be,, something to me). mm kuroo mmfghh jealous kuroo mmmmmfhghhfhgfh jealous and ANGRY kuroo he's so. i would let him. yk.

@chososcamgirl @stillnotherapy gc poops hi <3