#saw a post that was like 'wrote this for me but you can read it too I guess'

[thefrontmanscockwarmer]

Teacher’s Pet

Player 001 x reader

Masterlist <- comment on this post to be added to the Taglist

Note: !teacher in Ho, also note the reader is 18 and a senior in high school. Also yes, I’ve watched the actual movie he’s in, it’s just less confusing to refer to him as In Ho bc not everyone has seen that movie.

You stared at your piece of paper, nothing written but you name a few flowers in the top right corner. You saw a dark shadow appear over your desk, you looked up to see Mr. Hwang standing above you. You smile shyly.

“Hi” you say.

“(Y/n), are you serious? You haven’t written a single thing down.” He sighs exasperatedly. The class was looking at you now. You peered up at him.

“Not true. I have flowers and my name.”

“Yes, i can see that, but i asked you guys to write a reflective page on how Frankenstein’s Monster was perceived by the village versus what he was actually like.” He adjusts his glasses, “you’ve not a sentence down and it’s due by the end of class.”

“But sir,” you began.

“Not another word, (y/n), write so I don’t have to give you an F” he turns from you and sits at his desk. Going back through the stack of papers. You sat and started at your paper once again, not knowing where to begin. You wrote: ‘Frankenstein’s monster was not a monster at all. He educated himself and was perceived as worse than he was. In my eyes, he’s more educated than half the men in the world, no man could ever compare to the educatedness of Frankenstein’s Monster; whom even Frankenstein himself treated like a disease and cast him away before finding him to end the life he created.”

The bell rang, everyone began turning in their papers and leaving before Mr. In Ho could say anything. The end of the day was such a glorious time, especially when it’s just moments away from being Friday night. But, not for you, you’d be going a few days without seeing your “life source”. You stand and pack your bag as the last few people filter out of the room. You approach his desk, sliding your paper across it. You turned to leave and had just barely crossed the the threshold of the door before you heard his voice:

“Wait.” He sighed pointedly. Everyone was outside, running to their cars. “This isn’t wasn’t what I asked you to write.” He began. “I asked for a comparison between the monster and the town, not how to tell me how educated and compare him to society today”

“He wasn’t a monster” you said coldly. “He was a work of art. He was life. he was no worse or better than humanity. The town treated him like a monster because that’s what he looked like, not what he was. They hated him because he was ugly.” You said. “But, had they gotten to know him, they would’ve seen he was brilliant, and beautiful. He was educated. Better than any man I’ve ever seen.” He peered at you through soulless eyes before softening his gaze. Your (e/c) bearing themselves into his soul.

“I was going to say, that the writing was great. It may not’ve been what I wanted, but it was a perspective drawn from conclusions you made on your own. It was real worldly and granted, you’re right, he was perceived in a way that was very judged by the cover, not of the pages.” He removed his glasses. “You’re free to go, (y/n), enjoy your weekend.” He gestured towards the door. Butterflies that had erupted in your stomach had been fluttering, heat between your thighs as you realized it was just the two of you in a room together.

“Have a nice weekend, sir” you nodded. And left, letting out a deep breath that you didn’t realize you were holding.You walked slowly down the stairs, preparing yourself for the walk ahead of you as you usually did at the end of the day. You exited the building, nearly everyone was gone, save for a few stranglers.

meanwhile, Hwang was gathering his items, tucking your page away in his bag to read it again later. He hated to admit he was obsessed with your handwriting. Writing assignments were his favorite, your hand on a piece of paper for him to take home and reminisce and think about and reread over and over again. If only you could just graduate sooner, he wouldn’t mind going on a date, or even following you to whatever college. If you’d have him that is. He wished he knew how you felt.

You had made it to the crosswalk, awaiting your turn when In Ho had turned the corner. He saw you standing, rolling down his window.

“(Y/n)?” He called.

“Hello, Mr. Hwang” you waved, “Haven’t ever seen you on this road”

“Yeah, well, I have to pick up some dry cleaning” he says. “Would you like a ride?” He offers.

“Actually yes please.” You say. Turning around and walking towards the plaza, his followed your lead, stopping his car in front of you as you stood in front of the shops. He took a moment to admire you. Your hair flowing through the Spring wind, your skin being kissed gently by the sunlight. You smiled as you opened the door. “Thank you so much, it’s so hot out and I’d have to walk an hour” you sighed as you clipped your seatbelt.

“An hour?! Do you walk everyday?” He asks his eyes wide as you nodded.

“Yeah, my parents are too busy to get me” you shrugged, i pretty much live alone” you chuckle.

“Well, I’m glad I was able to give you a ride, walking that distance everyday sounds harsh on your legs.” He says, he looked at your body, the realization setting in, you were neglected and walked so much you couldn’t help it. You were thin, your clothes barely fit, and your jacket was frayed. I need to take care of her he thought to himself. “Are you hungry? I can stop anywhere you’d like before dropping you off at home.”

“Oh it’s no bother” you say, looking at your phone, letting your mother know you going home. He decided to stop anyways. Your eyes lit up when you saw the Golden Arches.

“What do you want?”

“A small fry, a small dr. Pepper, and a 10 piece chicken nugget.” You repeated. Suddenly your stomach was growling.

“Hi, can i get a #3, make it a large please. And I’d also like a 10 piece chicken nugget, large dr. Pepper, and a a large fry” he spoke to the lady, pulling through and paying at the next window. “If you’re going to eat, you’re going to eat well” he told you as he handed you the food.

“Thank you” you said. He hummed a response and drove. “My address is NW 24th ave, house number 13”

You quickly and discreetly wrote your number on a napkin, letting it fall on the floor. As he pulled his car to your driveway. He leaned over and kissed your cheek.

“Sorry” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean to, i forgot that you’re my student” he chuckled nervously.

“It’s okay” you said, blushing lightly. Butterflies flying your stomach again. Your heart fluttered as you made your next move. You pulled his face to kiss his lips, gently and quickly. His face riddled with shock, his own heart fluttering at the experience. “Thank you, for dropping me off and getting me food. I owe you one some day” he gulped and nodded. You opened your door in a swift motion he reached over and closed it, pressing his lips to yours once more, kissing you fiercely.

Your tongues gliding together before he separated from you. His hand tangling itself in your locks, pulling you closer to him, both of your bodies pressed against the center console, painfully marking your ribs. But pain was subjective, anything endured in those moments where you were entangled together, nothing could possibly hurt. He reluctantly pulled away from you. You both sat breathless, staring deeply into each other’s eyes. He moved a piece of hair out of your face. You were flushed and stumbling over your thoughts.

“Uh my dry-cleaning” he chuckled. “I’m sorry, I- I- I need to go get my dry cleaning. It’s clean and probably going to close soon. I have no clue what time it is” he stuttered.

“It’s okay, i should probably go inside too” you giggle.

“Okay, yeah, okay sounds like a plan.” He said as you opened your door.

“Well, good bye Mr. Hwang” you said as you closed the door, walking up your driveway. He watched as you entered your house before driving away. His mind swirling and his erection straining against his pants. He looked down as he came upon a red light, daring himself to unzip and stroke his cock. Shaking the thought away, he turned up the radio, everything around him reminded him of you.

“Fuck me” he thought as he laid his head back on the headrest. “Fuck me, (y/n)” he groaned.

Taglist

@christinamadsen @sebbymybaby21 @player279achlys @galaxygurlll @whamzou @watasinekoru @angelofthorr @whamzou

[millysastroblog]

Tik Tok Accounts stealing Content from Tumblr Astro Bloggers

!!!!!Warning!!!!!!!

@millysastroblog

So, early this morning, I was just randomly scrolling on TikTok and saw an astrology post. At first, I found it really interesting because it stated something I wrote in my own "Random Astro Observations" post from two years ago. But as I kept reading, I started noticing that the rest of the sentences also sounded way too similar to mine.

And then… BOOM. It hit me. Some random dumbass had the audacity to straight-up steal my content from Tumblr without ever asking for permission or giving credit. And no, this wasn’t one of those typical screenshot posts, it was a self-written post, formatted in a way that made it look like it was their original work. TikTok users would probably assume that this account was the real creator, but NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. IT’S FUCKING NOT.

These people don’t just steal and screenshot your work without giving credit, they go as far as rewriting it, editing small parts, slapping their own name on it, and then answering comments as if they actually have the same knowledge and insight as the original creator.

I was shocked. Because before realizing this, I actually thought that the TikTok account was creating their own observations. But no it’s fake. They just copy, paste, and claim it as theirs.

Like, I know you mediocre, good-for-nothing people don’t actually understand the astrology content you post. You just like the attention, the likes, and the views. Meanwhile, people like me have actually studied astrology for YEARS. I mean that I've spent over 5+ years studying astrological placements, reading charts, and truly understanding the deeper meanings. I didn’t just skim through random posts and use them as "resources" to build my own platform. I actually sat my ass down and studied for HOOOOUUURRSSS every single day because I genuinely wanted to understand myself and the people around me. Astrology has always been a passion for me.

I love learning new information, analyzing people’s placements, reading synastry and composite charts (which, let’s be real, these people probably don’t even know what those are). At this point, I could read someone’s birth chart and tell them things they aren’t even fully aware of themselves. BUTTTT the fact that some random Susanne or Tom really thinks they can just steal my content, build their own fan base off of my work, and assume I won’t find out? That’s actually diabolical.

Let’s be honest you guys don’t know shit about astrology like that. The only reason you even have information to post on TikTok is because of original creators who actually have talent, knowledge, and a passion for sharing it.

ALL OF YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED.

It’s okay to start as a beginner and learn at your own pace. I mean bitch there is CHatGPT now like I don't understand. But doing it in a dishonest and disrespectful way? That’s just wrong, and you know it. You just don’t care.

All I’m trying to say is that this shit needs to MF STOP NOW!

I’m tired of having to remind 5–10 TikTokers that this content is MINE!!!!!!!! And in general, just stop doing this to other bloggers too. Just stop. It’s not fair, and you know it.

Have some respect. Let it be. Create your own original posts and share them with whoever you want, but let us Tumblr bloggers rest. For god’s sake, we are tired of our work being ripped off left and right. It’s immature, it’s childish, and it needs to end.

And to that dumbass TikTok user who literally stole my shit DELETE IT NOW. Hoe, I SAID NOW. I know you’re going to see this.

I will make sure your page gets reported , hoe!!!.

Tik Tok account to ban:

⬇️

- @thehorowitch (Copy & paste Tik toker)

And so many moreeeeeeee !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[dervampireprince]

when you read your own than/ares fic and remember how much you love ares unexpectedly being soft and insecure and he's afraid of hurting than, whereas than's just been staring at ares arms all day and can't stop thinking about getting fisted and how full he'd feel and asks ares and ares is so concerned that he's going to hurt thanatos but they prepare thanatos well and he takes ares fist and ares just watching in awe that someone trusts him this much to want and have his hands that have wrought so much inside of them. so yeah just those thoughts going around in my head while I'm sick.

[dni minors, dni blogs that have no 18+ age listed in their bio]

[eddiemunsonsmum]

Just saw this comment on a story posted a month ago.

*cries in Eddie Munson Solo Series no one wanted to read, interact with or request for*

No shade to the person that commented this on their own fic if you recognize it. It's not their fault. I'm not mad at them. More crying in the tags.

[meownotgood]

I will finish this by halloween I will finish this by october 31st I will finish it I CAN!!! I CAN DO IT

[unriding]

Me sneaking into your asks with this drabble:

Disclaimer: I have yet to get a good grasp of Moze's character so this might be a bit OOC and on your side as well (sorry). I did my best. Also, this was inspired by the post you made abt telling Moze your tasks for the day | 600+ words (not proofread)

.

.

.

In Moze's eyes, you reminded him of a dog catching a case of the zoomies.

You were quite literally everywhere. He'd find you talking to someone one moment before you're rushing off to do something else entirely the next. It seemed like you had quite a lot on your plate as of recently. Tasks, things you wanted to do, and so much more spinning around that mind of yours. You've told him a bit of your plans so he has a general idea. But seeing you juggling all of those tasks at once makes both admiration and concern bloom in his chest.

One time, Moze found you carrying a box filled with items. It would've been amusing to him how comical it was that the items piled so high— he could barely see you behind it. However, he did worry right after given how you almost tripped over something. He managed to catch you and the items before both came crashing all over the floor.

He insisted on helping you carry the items to wherever its destination was. It took a bit of pursuasion on his side. Convincing you that it truly wasn't a bother to him at all, and that he'd be very much glad to be of assistance to you.

"I need to get these delivered first. Then go stop by the shop to buy some things. After that…" You go on to ramble about the things you had to do to help get a better vision on what else you had to do. "Oh, no… I messed up." The smile on your face dropping at the thought that had slipped your mind until that moment. "I forgot to invite Jiaoqiu to dinner with the others—"

"It's tomorrow evening, right? He knows. I mentioned it last time when I spoke to him." Moze says with a calm tone.

You blink at him, slightly caught off-guard by the man beside you. Though it's immediately replaced with relief and gratitude. The smile on your face already back, lighting up your features once more. Infectious as always, it makes the corners of his lips tug upwards as well. A small part of him feels quite proud to have been able to help you ease your worries even by a bit.

And this is when you start noticing it.

Did you mention that you're running out of a certain skincare product, but you can't find the time to stop by the store to buy it? Moze conveniently has to stop by near the store and buys it for you. Did you also mention that you wanted to do a certain task but keep forgetting about it? He gently reminds you about it via message or verbal if he's nearby. Did you also happen to mention that you've been meaning to try out a certain desert from a cafe, but the schedule simply doesn't seem to allow you? No fear, he passes by the store to buy you the treat.

Moze doesn't see you as someone incapable of handling things by yourself. To him, he simply sees it as a way to show his care. If making a quick stop somewhere, sending you a small reminder of something you had to do that day, or even helping you out with the tasks you need to accomplish, makes you smile? Gives you a chance to take a break? Let you worry less about the things you need to do? It's worth it in his eyes.

He does his best to avoid making you feel like you're bothering or troubling him (you really aren't). Most of the time, he does them discrcetly and casually. Partially, since he's also scared that you'll think he's weird or a creep for acting like that.

Please don't think of him badly.

Moze truly means well.

[sysig]

Special Counseling (Patreon)

[seaslimes]

Every time I see those posts about the AO3 F/F to M/M ratios, all I can think is:

Okay, excellent point. But what if you just wrote it?

Like. Yeah, man, I'm sure it's discouraging to see raw numbers talking about how your ship doesn't get the rep it needs. But when you get down to numbers... sometimes the difference within fandoms is less than 500 more M/M works than F/F works. That's actionable. You can fill that gap with a fraction of the people liking / reblogging posts about F/F erasure.

Sometimes the gap is bigger. It's like, 1000 more works are tagged M/M. 2000, or more. Yeah, that's a big gap, but you could make it one less. If every person liking or reblogging a post about the disparity of ship fics on AO3, that number would shrink drastically, or outright disappear.

IDK. I write F/F. I write M/M too, as well as M/F. But I write F/F, and when I see that sorta post. It doesn't feel like a call to action. It feels like somehow, in some way, I'm not doing enough when I post up fanfiction for free about stuff I like.

It makes me feel like I should stop sharing my F/F work, that it doesn't matter, that people don't recognize the effort or love or time that goes into it. Even beyond that, I feel discouraged about the work I have put out, because thousands of words written all about an F/F pairing are only seen in that raw stat format.

"There's X M/M fics and Y F/F fics." Yes, I know, and that has to suck. But look at how many people wrote F/F fics! Have you commented on each of those F/F fics? Have you given kudos? Did you feel inspired to write or draw because of those F/F fics? That's what fandom is for. That's why we create. If that's not inspiring you to "close the gap" on those stats, I don't know what to say.

[theood]

you wanna talk about the House Hen? Lets talk about the House!

It has been 10 months and it doesnt stop I keep reading this fucking thing and connecting more dots

YEAAAAH I need need need to finish it. Everyone pray tomorrow I'm taken over by a beast again. There's so much to SAY about the chunk I read. The thoughts I have about Navidson and his relationship to the house, how it changed, Johnny's slipping of reality, lying, forgetting, omitting, forgetting he didn't say, what's even real anymore? Or, how when Navidson was assuming he was already dead (I mean, of course he is. Who witnesses his own death), his blabbering went right to his brother. Where is Tom? Is this where you ended up? Don't look down. Always the funny one. Always the self-sacrifice. Whisked away. He was his brother's keeper. Of course it was followed with Karen. And you can't count the ramblings of a man facing his own death but also. Doomed from the start. Always. The text was warning us. RAUGH. Those two made me think of another pair of siblings in different media

[halfelven]

love random not even logged in readers just dropping their 'constructive criticism' on your 100k+ story that you're putting online entirely for free. this is just a rant btw

"You obviously have a great talent and I think you should work on honing it some. As much as I’ve enjoyed the story, there are a few things that stand out that you might consider looking at. I feel like the story isn’t sure what it wants to be at times; is it character driven or plot driven? It doesn’t flow smoothly because sometimes we have these wonderful character vignettes, like Illumi and Kalluto on a road trip or Kite/Leorio/Gon/Killua in an apartment where plot doesn’t really feel important, followed by what feels like heavily plot driven beats, like Kalluto and the spiders. In addition, it contributes to confusion because sometimes we see established characterization turned on its head. Especially the weird way everyone all of a sudden just sort of was OK with Kalluto being a spider and then working with Illumi when they just went to all that trouble to escape him? It all kind of feels forced and not natural. You know?

Anyway, I’ll definitely keep reading and look forward to seeing what happens."

first: love you trying to sound legitimate with your "in addition" like this is some kind of writer's workshop. second: in what way would I, the writer, think that an incomplete part of my story in which the reader does not yet know most of the main motivations (they are only hinted at so far) feels forced and not natural when I know what's happening, where it is going (and where I haven't had other readers comment with confusion about that part)

and moving on. don't do this. also like i said this is a wip in and no, no one is cool with Kalluto being a spider and no they're not cool working with Illumi, really. it was already established that some of them /have/ been working with Illumi before this~ he's someone that they know. like have you never been in a seriously dangerous situation that you just have to get through before you get back to what you want?*** also at this point Chrollo's real motive hasn't been entirely revealed.

Killua keeps changing his mind about what he's doing because he's a scared kid whose self-hatred is destroying him from the inside out. the POV is so tight that I have to keep dropping reminders that what is stated in the narrative is often not true! Illumi's POV, for example, keeps showing Killua as really loving him and being happy he's around but struggling with a desire for freedom, while with Killua's POV he's terrified of Illumi most of the time. like how is that not obviously a distorted POV where you can't trust the narrator?

"where plot doesn’t really feel important, followed by what feels like heavily plot driven beats"

this part is especially irritating because it's like yeah that's how I want to write it? this isn't a published novel. I don't have to commit to making sure every scene is important to the plot. I can spend time writing a full scene about someone drinking a glass of water and then 13 chapters in a row that are for moving the plot forward. I didn't even tag it as a novel... I did tag it for unreliable narration and I keep getting annoyed that people keep ignoring that.

"I feel like the story isn’t sure what it wants to be at times; is it character driven or plot driven?"

it's both??? it's neither??? it's a fanfic??? why do I keep getting comments lately where people are expecting me to adhere to like fucking publishing standards. this keeps up and I will write a chapter which is entirely about a minor character drinking a glass of water. watch me. I'll write one about phinks drinking a glass of water and you'll like it*

"Overall, the story is good and presented a compelling alternative to CA. Look, each fan has their own opinion on CA and I know I didn’t like it. I think it was a product of what Togashi was going through as he began to experience health issues and then finding himself right back where he said he wasn’t going to be mentally after he ended his earlier manga. We can never know for sure, but it certainly had a “watch it all burn vibe” to it near the end. I honestly believe he wanted it to end with the finality of Gon’s suicide as a capstone statement, but was probably convinced to go a different route, which kinda of left a jarring feel in the narrative and culminated in a rather unsatisfying end to Gon and Killua’s journey. Despite that, I am very reluctant to read fics where the events of CA are erased or grossly modified and honestly yours is really the first long AU/alternate timeline I’ve enjoyed"

okay first of all, I love the CA arc. but I had to split a point off where Kite was going to survive. why do you have to leave this whole paragraph about how you think Togashi was or wasn't going to go with the CA on my fanfic? I didn't even write this as 'oh look at my alternative to CA bc I hated CA' I don't really look forward to hearing comments about how random people didn't like so and so aspect of the story that I'm basing my story off of. I've never written fanfic for a story that I didn't like (except for some things that I don't have published I wrote at a request for friends for a fandom they were into that I wasn't really) and yeah I've wanted to 'fix' aspects (like tolkien's treatment of women for example) but I am not looking for your 'this is what I hated about the source material' comments on my stories

tired of getting comments with little 'oh I didn't like your style at first but now I do' or 'here's how to fix your story!' unsolicited advice from people who aren't better writers than me (I don't even want it from people who would be better writers than me on stuff I'm just doing for fun and for free)

when did stuff like this become normal? at least don't be a coward and be not logged in so you can't even get a response notification. like girl they aren't cool with it! why do you think everyone is on guard standing around like they're in a fucking hostage situation? how do you see such wildly different interpretations from different character's POVs and think it's not intentional? what part about Kite watching Killua like a fucking hawk makes you think he's going to let Illumi take him after this?

like if you've never had to smile and pretend to be cool with your abuser (pretend to love them) or someone who was threatening you to keep someone else safe then good for you! it fucking sucks! also don't know how to explain to you what a child who is growing up in an extremely isolated abusive situation goes through (though I keep writing about it in this story you should catch on...) but it's a million back and forths with emotion and feelings--especially if their abuser does (to in some way or to some degree) love them. and it is often blaming themselves. I'm not letting my years of studying human psychology and child development go to waste here**

is this story perfect? no but I'm not gonna hire an editor for a fanfic. and everyone's interpretations of characters will be different. especially with child characters who are going through huge changes in the world around them and their personal lives. part of the appeal of fanfiction is 'who would they become if this happened instead?' *sorry I keep writing about starving and not having clean drinking water but I will never stop because that's what I grew up with and it's hell. also phinks drinking water would be compelling since I assume he'd have harder access to clean drinking water

**hunter x hunter is also one of the only stories I have encountered with characters who have backgrounds as fucked up as mine and Togashi's interest in human psychology really stands out.

***like good for you but that was most of my life and you sometimes just have to shut up and get through it. and no I will not put my notes in the right order bc I'm not being paid enough****

****I'm being paid nothing

[infizero]

came to the startling realization just now that there are people who actually think light was totally fine and all his evilness came from the death note. ermmm. loud incorrect buzzer

[ziracona]

I know I say this every time I read my own work, but Speak for the Dead really is the best chapter in ILM.

“Well, you know for the first time in a long time this actually feels like fall?”

Jane Romero was smiling at him, sitting propped up against a tree in what had sort of become her usual ‘therapy’ corner in the past almost two weeks. And she was right, it did feel like fall. The air wasn’t as sharply cold as normal, and honestly ‘sharply’ cold was a nice break in and of itself when it happened—usually the weather here was somehow just cold—cold with no adjectives attached. But today it was nicer. It was the kind of waiting fall cold that came when it wasn’t biting outside yet, and it was almost pleasant. A promise of a change in the seasons. Tapp wondered why.

The trees hadn’t started to change color with it, or fall in piles, and as far as he’d gathered there weren’t seasons in here. Everything looked the same. Tall, thick woods, undergrowth and moss and rocks and fallen logs, a slight breeze on and off. Dark sky overhead, full moon, at this point long since throwing off everyone’s idea of what day and night were supposed to mean. All the usual. Except, somehow, the kind of cold in the weather. Who knew, maybe nothing had changed. Maybe they had just started to feel better.

LIKE. Those opening lines mean nothing but environmental flavor when you read them. But they’re a lead in for the thesis of the entire chapter.

“Well, you know for the first time in a long time this actually feels like fall?” - A promise of a change in the seasons. - Who knew, maybe nothing had changed. Maybe they had just started to feel better.

Like that’s it. Speak for the Dead is about a lot of things, but at its heart it’s about healing. It’s about forgiveness and healing, that exists between the living and the dead. It’s about how you can only speak for them, by speaking for them. Not how you want to punish yourself or live for them, but by how you know they would forgive you, or would ask you to live. Very little other than exchanges of information happen, but so much happens at the same time. All of it significant. It’s hope. It’s about how Tapp (and Meg) have spent every day here fighting in their own way to cope with the agony and failure of their lives, and the loss of people they couldn’t save, and have only dug their wounds deeper. About love. About nothing stoping the lambs from screaming except accepting that they want to let you go.

[fancy-marshmallow]

thinking about the duality of twelfth night and hamlet this evening ...

[nerice]

i wrote more in january of 2018 than in 2022 (thesis hell), 2023 (rsi onset hell) and 2024 (full rsi hell) by themselves. jsyk, this is why i will kill myself

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

for whom good omens is being written

Hey maggots and the rest of the fandom, it's the Good Omens Mascot here. Today I read a post about this tweet:

The accompanying video genuinely made me cry. And I've been thinking about this for a long while, as far back as February, when I saw a lot of conflicting opinions on what people wanted from the third season. It really is true that no matter what you do, some people will be dissatisfied. But what matters is that Neil is writing this for Terry.

And I was reminded of some paragraphs from the Good Omens TV Companion, which I'd read in Amazon's sample excerpt of the book. I know this is a long post, but I really truly do think you all need to read these, I've done my best to select only the most important parts. Here you go:

'His Alzheimer's started progressing harder and faster than either of us had expected,' says Neil, referring to a period in which Terry recognized that despite everything he could no longer write. 'We had been friends for over thirty years, and during that time he had never asked me for anything. Then, out of the blue, I received an email from him with a special request. It read: “Listen, I know how busy you are. I know you don't have time to do this, but I want you to write the script for Good Omens. You are the only human being on this planet who has the passion, love and understanding for the old girl that I do. You have to do this for me so that I can see it." And I thought, “OK, if you put it like that then I'll do it."

'I had adapted my own work in the past, writing scripts for Death: The High Cost of Living and Sandman, but not a lot else was seen. I'd also written two episodes of Doctor Who, and so I felt like I knew what I was doing. Usually, having written something once I'd rather start something new, but having a very sick co-author saying I had to do this?' Neil spreads his hands as if the answer is clear to see. 'I had to step up to the plate.' A pause, then: 'All this took place in autumn 2014, around the time that the BBC radio adaptation of Good Omens was happening,' he continues, referring to the production scripted and co-directed by Dirk Maggs and starring Peter Serafinowicz and Mark Heap. ‘Terry had talked me into writing the TV adaptation, and I thought OK, I have a few years. Only I didn't have a few years,' he says. 'Terry was unconscious by December and dead by March.'

He pauses again. 'His passing took all of us by surprise,' Neil remembers. 'About a week later, I started writing, and it was very sad. The moments Terry felt closest to me were the moments I would get stuck during the writing process. In the old days, when we wrote the novel, I would send him what I'd done or phone him up. And he would say, "Aahh, the problem, Grasshopper, is in the way you phrase the question," and I would reply, "Just tell me what to do!" which somehow always started a conversation. 'In writing the script, there were times I'd really want to talk to Terry, and also places where I'd figure something out and do something really clever, and I would want to share it with him. So, instead, I would text Terry's former personal assistant, Rob Wilkins, now his representative on Earth. It was the nearest thing I had.'

(...) As Neil himself recognizes, this is an adaptation built upon the confidence that comes from three decades of writing for page and screen. But for all the wisdom of experience, he found that above all one factor guided him throughout the process. 'Terry isn't here, which leaves me as the guardian of the soul of the story,' he explains. 'It's funny because sometimes I found myself defending Terry's bits harder or more passionately than I would defend my own bits. Take Agnes Nutter,' he says, referring to what has become a key scene in the adaptation in which the seventeenth-century author of the book of prophecies foretelling the coming of the Antichrist is burned at the stake. ‘It was a huge, complicated and incredibly expensive shoot, with bonfires built and primed to explode as well as huge crowds in costume. It had to feel just like an English village in the 1640s, and of course everyone asked if there was a cheap way of doing it. 'One suggestion was that we could tell the story using old-fashioned woodcuts and have the narrator take us through what happened, but I just thought, “No”. Because I had brought aspects of the story like Crowley and the baby swap along to the mix, and Terry created Agnes Nutter. So, if I had cut out Agnes then I wouldn't be doing right by the person who gave me this job. Terry would've rolled over in his grave.'

And, finally, this paragraph:

"Once again, Neil cites the absence of his co-writer as his drive to ensure that Good Omens translated to the screen and remained true to the original vision. 'Terry's last request to me was to make this something he would be proud of. And so that has been my job.'"

I think that's so heartwrenchingly beautiful, and so I wanted you all to read this, too, just in case you (like me) don't have the Good Omens TV Companion. It adds another layer of depth and emotion to this already complex and amazing story that we all know and love.

Share this post, if you can, please, so that more people can read these excerpts :")

Tagging @neil-gaiman, @fuckyeahgoodomens and @orpiknight, even if you've definitely read these before :)

[lilreidgirl]

Do I wanna know?

Summary: You and Drew are best friends, but you want more. What happens when you get invited to a day out on Drew’s friend’s yacht and get more?

Warnings: MDNI(18+), fem!reader, thigh riding, daddy kink, nicknames used (princess, baby, little lady, good girl…), kissing, alcohol (beer), swearing, no use of (y/n), reader wears a skirt, shy!reader, pining amongst friends, English is not my first language, if I forgot anything; please let me know!!

WC: ~2.4k (no idea how that happened)

A/N: I got inspired by this photo so I wrote this at like 2 am and I’m posting it now at 5 am, this is a mess, gn my loves (NOT PROOF READ, SORRY) (also this is my first fic about Drew so yeah)

When your best friend, Drew Starkey, invited you to a small get together on his friend’s yacht, you were more than willing to go. You and him had been friends since years, getting to know each other through mutual friends and suddenly you were eating take out with a b-list celebrity every other night.

You twirled around in front of your full body sized mirror, watching with amusement as your skirt twirls with you, the ruffles bouncing as they fluttered in the wind.

“Wow. Really doesn’t take much to get a smile on that pretty little face of yours, huh?” Drew chuckled as he watched you spin around.

Startled by his voice you stopped your little turns, looking at him with a small playful glare when the dizzy fog finally cleared from your vision.

“I’m just a happy person. You should try it sometime” you shot back, but you knew it was no use. Drew was great at talking, arguing, whatever. He was great with people in a way you just couldn’t figure out for yourself.

But honestly? You were fine just standing on the sidelines watching him do his thing, waiting for him to abandon that and come talk to you for a bit.

You had been fine with it.

Lately every time he laughed and grinned at one of your sarcastic comments and every time he stared at you like he was a theoretical physicist and you had the answers to string theory, you couldn’t help but want more. Couldn’t help but want that “best friend” status to be upgraded to “girlfriend”. Hell, you even dreamt of being called his wife.

For now though, you were just going to try and enjoy the day on a luxurious boat.

Soon you found yourselves in the car. You clicked on random songs on your phone and sand along to the “wait, this is the best part, shut up”’s before yet again changing the song as Drew drove to the harbour, admiring the way you seemed so enthralled by the different songs and music.

“Would love to continue listening to your big world tour concert, little lady, but we’re here,” he announced once he’d gotten the car carefully parked.

Excitedly, you jumped out of Drew’s car, watching as he did the same before you both made your way closer to the water where many ships floated atop the sea.

At the same time, you both spotted Drew’s group of friends, waving at them as they saw you two as well.

You’d gotten to know them a bit but the amount of group hangouts you attended, didn’t really allow you to form a strong bond to any of Drew’s friends.

What can you say?

You’re just not a people person.

You’re a person person.

A Drew person.

You squashed the ridiculous thought, giggling it off before you checked that your outfit was neatly in order.

Upon seeing you inspecting your clothes, Drew leaned down and whispered in your ear, his breath tantalizingly brushed against your ear and neck as he spoke, “You look amazing, baby, don’t worry.”

As you reached the boat, the smile you had shared for a few enchanting seconds came to a sudden end.

“Hey, Drew!” Various different voices greeted the both of you and you both returned the favour with just as much enthusiasm.

One of the guys, the one whose yacht it was presumably, invited everyone aboard.

Your eyes flitted to everything around you, spotting a few seats, some complicated looking boat equipment and random day-to-day fun stuff lying around.

The smell of fish and sea breeze filled the air and your nostrils, but that scent quickly evaporated when Drew stepped next to you, finally finished with catching up with his friend and was now holding out a beer bottle for you to take. His cologne took over, overwhelming your senses. Something you were definitely not complaining about.

You accepted the beer from him, taking a sip before handing it back to him and watching as he repeated your action of drinking from the bottle.

Your gaze drifted to his Adam’s apple as it bobs when he took gulps of the alcoholic drink. He lowered the glass container from his lips, putting his strong bicep right in your line of sight.

As embarrassing as it is to admit you could have almost moaned from just looking at his muscly arm.

He must have taken off his shirt sometime between helping you up the steps on the side of the ship, his hand securely wrapped around your thigh to keep you from falling, and when he seemingly appeared behind you as you admired your surroundings.

Then your eyes found his chest, strong pecs priding over his abs that seemed carved from the very marble that Michelangelo had used to sculpt David, each muscle defined with an almost perfect precision to it.

Just before you could take a good look at his black swim shorts hanging off his hips and hugging his beefy thighs, his voice called your name.

“Hey, come on, picture time,” he reiterated what he had said when you were still zoned out.

“Oh. Okay,” Throwing your thoughts back into reality, you watched as everyone made their way over to the discussed upon place where the photo would be taken.

“Who wants to set the timer?” A girl, who you’d forgotten the name of, asked.

Something with an F? L? A? Who cares.

“Not it!” Was called by everyone but you, your face quickly morphing from a surprised look of “who the hell still uses ‘not it’?” to an accepting face that you were in fact “it”.

The girls and boys all took their places on the netting of the boat. The 5 people in front of you got ready to pose for the group photo.

Efficiently, you adjusted the tripod so that the camera of the phone pointed perfectly towards the centre of everyone.

You bent down, looking at the screen of the mobile. You saw Drew depicted by many pixels, your thighs clenching when he moved his hips up to readjust his position on the midnight blue blanket that lay sprawled over the rough nylon net.

Fuck, he was perfect.

Of course, you fixed your hair one last time before pressing the white button on the right side of the device, starting the 10 second countdown until the picture.

Swiftly, you made your way around the tripod, and plopped down onto the free space between a dark haired guy, you’ve come to know as Matthew, and Drew. You smiled sweetly at the round circles on the back of the phone as Drew slung an arm around your shoulders.

Once the photo was taken, everyone scattered and the usual chatter was back. You ran up to the phone and you looked at the image.

Well fuck.

Drew looked absolutely freaking ethereal.

His sitting in a reclined position with one leg bent and the other stretched out, manspreading, almost made you go feral. He was smiling widely toward the camera, his impossibly bright grin attracting all the attention in the photo.

His body looked like a dream. For a moment, you thought maybe you were dreaming, if you were you would hold onto the memory of the photo, even if it was just a dream, for the rest of your life.

God, pining for your hot best friend made you sound so so pathetic.

The thought that what you were experiencing was just a dream was snapped in two like a twig when Drew came up from behind you and flicked your bare back.

“Ouch!” You exclaimed, a frown forming on your face.

“‘M sorry, princess,” he swung his arms over your shoulders, holding on to you from behind like a koala would his mother, peering at the screen in your hands.

“Did it turn out good?” He asked casually, acting as if he didn’t see how your face was blushing an awfully deep shade of red and don’t even start to think that he missed the way you were obviously turned on.

“Yup,” you answered curtly, ducking down to be released of any physical contact with him, because you felt as if you would melt if he touched you a second longer.

“I’m um… gonna go below deck. The sun uh- it’s hitting me pretty hard right now. I have a headache,” you lied, coming up with some excuse to just get yourself somewhere where you can have your alone time.

“O…kay…” He didn’t seem convinced but that wasn’t for you to deal with in that moment. You made your way down the stairs leading below the deck of the ship, the room was nice and cozy.

With a sigh of relief you sat down on a wooden bench near the kitchen and slipped your phone out of your purse.

After a few minutes of mindlessly scrolling through various social media apps you heard footsteps nearing you, causing you to look up.

Your eyes met none other than Drew Starkey himself.

“On your phone when you have a headache? Really?” He asked unamused. “You lyin’ about the headache or you just stupid?”

“Stupid…?” you offered in a quiet meek voice.

“C’mon, sweetheart, what’s the problem, huh? You don’t like my friends or something?” He questioned as he sat himself down next to you on the oak plank.

“No, no, they’re great, I just…” You really should have been able to come up with something to say but the way his forearm was flexing as it rested on his thigh distracted you.

A smirk grew on Drew’s face. “No yeah, I uh-“ he chucked as he shook his head in what looked like slight disbelief, “I know.”

Unsure of the true meaning behind his comment you averted your eyes to the floor, focusing on the swaying of the boat on the water instead of Drew’s piercing blue eyes staring intently at you.

He leaned back with a sigh, his legs spreading wider and his arm sneaking behind your back and around your waist. “You’re kind of ridiculous, you know that?”

All you could do was nod which earned you yet another laugh from Drew.

Just as you were about to persuade yourself to actually speak, you were pulled onto Drew’s lap by his arm, his hands quickly settling you on his thighs.

“Wha-“

“I know, princess,” he cooed.

You know you should have felt at least slightly degraded or mad because of his tone but the only thing it did, was make you want to clench your thighs together. Which of course wasn’t possible because each of your legs rested on different sides of Drew.

“You look so pretty today, baby,” he said, tucking some loose strands of hair behind your ear before moving his face down to your neck and pressing soft, fleeting, sensational kisses to the side of your collar.

Your breathing became panted and you unintentionally slowly rubbed your core along the material of his pitch black swim trunks.

“Not even a thank you?” He murmured teasingly as his kisses walked over to the area right under your ear and his large hands gripped your hips harshly, stopping you from any further movement.

“Th- thank you…” You whispered, your tone dipped and coated in your lust and arousal.

You felt a small nip on your throat that made you let out a small “Ah-!”

“Thank you…?” He muttered expectantly.

“Sir?” You tried, getting your confirmation of that being the wrong answer when a more harsh bite was left just under your jawline.

“Daddy..” you practically moaned out, the small pleasure that you got from the bites making you rut against Drew’s strong hold on your body.

“Good girl…” he praised, his face finally coming up to meet yours, kissing you softly but also at the same time with an unforeseeable force.

His fingers stopped drilling into the skin over your hipbones, letting you push your aching core down onto his covered thigh.

He broke the kiss, his plump lips and hot breath trailing over your cheek as you both gasped from air.

His hand roughly grabbed the back of your head, wrapping his fingers around your messy hair, holding you tight against him.

Immediately after, his other hand took hold of your hip again, helping you grind down on his swim pants.

“That’s right, baby, use daddy’s leg,” he breathed out heavily.

“Such,” he pressed a sloppy kiss to your jawline, “a,” another kiss was placed on the corner of your mouth, “good,” he said before pecking your lips, “girl,” he murmured into your mouth before shoving his tongue down your throat.

The press of his thigh onto your bikini bottom made a perfect friction emerge against your clit, sending jolts of pleasure through you.

“What about-“ you started.

“I locked the door, sweetheart, no worries.”

The way he basically read your mind made you feel even more turned on.

Your folds rubbed back and forth in your

soaking wet swim bottoms as you gripped Drew’s shoulders tightly, eyes squeezed shut as he continued to spew out praise after praise to you.

Suddenly a knock resounded throughout the room, a sudden halt coming to your despicable actions.

“Hello? Anyone in here? Why is the door locked?” A female voice asked from the other side of the door.

“One second!” Drew called before returning his attention to you.

“We’ll finish this later, yeah?” All you could do was nod, still completely dazed.

He picked you up off his lap, helping you settle back into a standing position and smoothing out both of your guys’ clothes.

With a casual smile on his face he unlocked and opened the door, spouting out some excuse for the door being locked before leading you upstairs with him.

For the rest of the afternoon, you sat, with a drink in hand, watching Drew talk amongst his friends, his eyes flicking to you every once in a short while.

Once other people started leaving and the sun started setting, he walked up to you.

“Ready to leave, princess?”

“Uh-huh,” you uttered out, standing up and saying your goodbyes to everyone that still found themselves on the yacht.

As you walked down the dock, admiring the sunset, you gripped onto Drew’s arm.

“Everything okay?” He asked.

You looked up at him with an “Are you serious?” face, annoyed at his nonchalant antics.

“Gee, sorry, okay?” He chuckled.

“I’ll make you feel good soon. Don’t worry, little lady.”

@emma-e-a