#wow these tags are irrelevant

[gen-is-gone]

This is perhaps bitchy and uncharitable and certainly almost a year late to really be complaining about but fuck it, we complain anyway.

Yes, I am still unreasonably upset about Sutekh clinging to the side of the TARDIS since The Pyramids of Mars, and upset because I was sort of foolishly hoping we might get some actual characterization fallout from that addressed properly this series, which of course isn't going to happen. And the reason I'm upset about it while it seems fairly few people care all that much is because it's a litmus test for the degree to which any given person sees the TARDIS as a character in her own right. And it's fairly obvious now that rtd doesn't, or at least, only does when it suits him.

Because the thing is, if the TARDIS is a character, is a person, then the manner in which Sutekh uses and usurps her, and the ambiguity in whether it was consensual ('seduction' vs 'coercion') becomes extremely important to the Doctor and the TARDIS's relationship, and the TARDIS's characterization as a whole, both going forward and echoing back. Like bearing in mind that what actually happened is so ambiguous, what Sutekh being 'there the whole time' even fucking means, that trying to pull a point out of it is almost an exercise in futility from the jump, but to borrow some wildly inadequate or perhaps even inappropriate language, it's the difference between whether the TARDIS has been cheating on the Doctor for more than half the length of their entire relationship, or whether she'd been being (sorry) raped that whole time and the Doctor just hadn't noticed.

And yeah, evidently it was too much for me to hope that there would ever be any kind of real emotional or plot-relevant followup about that, because, again, that requires you to see the TARDIS as a character whose choices and emotions and relationships matter beyond their immediate relevance to the plot. And this isn't new by any goddamn means. This isn't actually the usual split between the traditionalist and the avant-garde camps. The TARDIS's sapience and autonomy do not begin with The Doctor's Wife; this is established (more or less) in The Edge of Destruction, the third ever serial in the history of the show, all the way back in nineteen sixty-fucking-four.

And y'know, yes, it would still be a big deal if Sutekh jumped on in Wild Blue Yonder (as would make way more logical sense) rather than Pyramids; the ambiguity of consent that the show either doesn't care or lacks the stomach to address would still be a blow, but it wouldn't have the unutilized capacity to fundamentally alter the relationship between the two longest-running characters in the franchise if it was the span of a season, rather than thousands of years in-universe and nearly five decades in real life. And not to be conspiratorial or assume categorical bad faith on rtd's part, but yeah, it's hard not see that particular unnecessary detail as a petty response to Moffat and Chibnall's own continuity-and-paradigm-altering retcons, and an attempt to get his own shot in.

And it's just. Never gonna get talked about, huh. 'Cause it doesn't actually matter, right? 'Cause it's not like the TARDIS is really a person, right?

[thejadeofc]

Every app has a time limit setting and it's high time they invent one for brains

[itneverendshere]

we say we’re different but we got the same eyes - r.c

pairing: bitchy!pogue!reader x rafe

you needed to stop taking other people shift’s. 

it’s not like you wanted to, but at least they were paying you to do so, enough to let you actually chill this summer without stressing about rent or whatever else adulthood decided to throw at you.

all you had to do was show up and do the job. first at lila’s dinner, now at the bougie country club, as a cart girl.

you’d done this before, and sure, the old men were always a little too handsy with their beer guts hanging over their tacky polos, but at least they tipped well. you could tolerate them. smile, giggle at their half-assed jokes, and let them feel like they still had it. 

fine. pay me for my pain, grandpa. 

today however, instead of your usual sugar-daddy wannabes, you were babysitting frat boys. fresh out of their first year of college, probably still hungover from their last keg stand.

nineteen-year-old idiots in pastel shorts and backwards hats, making everything about themselves.

“bro, you remember that party at kappa? dude, swear i blacked out after like, five shots.”

wow, five whole shots? congrats, you absolute child. should i get you a sticker for that?

don’t even get started on their conversations about girls. one of them, chad or brad or whatever his stupid name was, just had to loudly detail how some poor innocent girl “totally wanted him last night but was playing hard to get.”

yeah, bro, she was probably just trying to get through the night without having to mace your entitled ass.

it was constant. the whole damn morning. all they talked about was frat parties, girls they didn’t deserve, and how they "couldn’t wait to get back to school."

you'd give anything to remind them how utterly irrelevant their frat status was in the real world, but you couldn’t. nope. you had to keep your game face on, pour their drinks, and pretend like they weren’t giving you a headache that rivaled your worst hangovers.

at least the elderly snobs tipped well. sure, they were pretentious and acted like you were beneath them, but they'd slip you a twenty or more with a smug little wink. that made it easier to tolerate their "i’ve been golfing here since before you were born" bullshit.

but these brats?

half the time they forgot to tip at all, and when they did remember, it was a crumpled five like they were doing you some grand favor. and of course, of course, they couldn’t just keep their obnoxious, beer-breath comments to themselves. no, they had to make it worse by hitting on you—hard. 

painfully hard. it was like watching a car crash in slow motion, except instead of pulling over to help, you were stuck right in the middle, praying someone would just tow your ass out.

“yo, what’s your name again?” one of them asks. bryce, probably. his face just screams bryce.

he's leaning against the cart like he thinks it's going to make him look cool, but really, he’s just sloshing his drink all over the place. classy.

“it’s on my name tag,” you deadpan, pointing to the little badge pinned to your polo. you're not about to give him any more than that.

but he's not letting it go. “oh yeah? cute name for a cute girl. you single or what?”

jesus christ. here we go.

you resist the urge to roll your eyes so hard they’d get stuck in the back of your head. 

“’m here to work,” you sigh, voice sweet enough to mask the absolute disdain you're feeling. you know what comes next.

they always think they can charm you if they just keep going, like you are some kind of challenge.

“c’mon, don’t be like that,” another one chimes in, this one wearing sunglasses even though it's barely 9 a.m.

who do you think you are, pitbull? 

he gives you this sleazy grin like he thinks he's smoother than he actually is. “we could take you out after your shift. grab a drink. bet you’re fun, huh?”

fun? FUN?! if by fun he means fantasizing about driving this cart straight into the water hazard just to escape this conversation, then sure, you're a real blast.

you look around the course, hoping maybe one of the older golfers needs a refill or something—anything to get you away from this nightmare. no luck. it's just you and these clowns.

“i don’t date customers,” you say, a line you’d perfected at this point.

you plaster on your fakest smile, the kind that said please tip me and then leave me the hell alone. but bryce wasn’t giving up.

“you’re really gonna turn us down? i mean, we’re the best thing on this course right now.”

best thing?

the only thing they're the best at seems to be embarrassing themselves. this is the type of guy who probably thinks buying a girl a drink meant she owns him something.

you can't even be mad; it's almost... sad. almost.

“maybe you should focus on your game,” you suggest, glancing at his scorecard. “you’re, what, ten over par already?”

that shuts him up real quick, his face going from cocky to confused like he didn't expect you to know how golf worked.

his friend with the sunglasses? he's still trying.

“we can show you a good time, y’know. we’ve got a house down on the beach. you like boats?”

ah, yes. the boat move. the go-to for guys who think a half-assed yacht and a cooler full of cheap beer is the height of luxury.

you’d seen it a million times in this godforsaken town.

you're not impressed.

you shoot them another smile, “i like tips.”

they all blink confusedly, clearly not used to a girl calling them out so directly. the frat boys mumble something between themselves, looking awkward for the first time all day.

finally, one of them fishes a crumpled twenty out of his pocket and tosses it your way. 

oh, wow, big spender. 

you scoop it up, shoving it into your pocket and giving them a little nod. “thanks, boys. good luck with your game.”

you thought the twenty bucks might’ve bought you a few minutes of peace, but no. they're back at it, swinging at golf balls like they aren't trying to flirt in between their awful shots.

you roll the cart over to the next part of the course, half-listening to their constant chatter.

something about “last semester” this, and “pledge party” that. god, they just never stop. it's like someone hit the repeat button on the world’s most annoying playlist.

one of them calls you over again, like he can't wait five minutes for his next drink. you start prepping them, half tuning them out, just trying to get through it, when suddenly, miraculously, they shut the hell up.

for a second, you think maybe the universe is finally doing you a favor. you don't even question it, just start pouring drinks faster.

a quiet frat boy is a gift. but then you hear it:

“dude!” one of them practically tackles the other, all wide-eyed and hyped up like a little kid who just saw his favorite cartoon character. “is that rafe fucking cameron?!”

oh, for fuck’s sake.

your stomach drops. of course it has to be him. because clearly, your morning isn't being shitty enough. you don't even look at first. 

one of the guys starts flipping out, hitting his buddy’s shoulder like it's the coolest thing to ever happen.

“bro, no way. no way. that’s rafe cameron? he used to be the president of our frat, man. two years ago! he’s a fucking legend!”

legend? you almost laugh.

the only legend rafe is to you it's a legendary asshole. a smug, infuriating, gorgeous asshole who you have been avoiding like the plague. the same one who has been blowing up your phone nonstop, trying to get back into your life.

the same one you swore down you’d never sleep with again after he pulled that stunt at the dinner—and then, of course, ended up in his bed two nights ago. you haven't spoken to him since. you’d been ignoring him again—well, trying to—but now here he is. in the flesh. and these idiots are drooling over him like he's some kind of frat god.

you turn your head, and he's striding across the green like he doesn't have a care in the world. of course he looks good. he always does.

wayfarer’s pushed up in his hair, that cocky-ass grin on his face, wearing a polo like he's the face of a country club catalog. you know he’d see you any second. hell, he probably already has. 

yeah, you’d been avoiding him, and yeah, maybe you’d blocked his number twice, but that didn’t stop him from calling with a different one. or from somehow finding you the other night at the party when you were weak enough to let him back in, only to get burned again.

“holy shit, he’s coming this way,” one of the frat boys mutters, shaking with excitement.

you don't move, don't acknowledge him. but you can feel his eyes on you. it's like a sixth sense at this point. you'd crave it so much before, when it was all a silly game in your head, see how much you could push until he cracked and gave into you. now it's a curse.

the boys are watching him approach like he's some kind of celebrity.

“should we say something to him?” one whispers. “i heard he’s like, killing it in the business world now. family’s loaded.”

yeah, you think bitterly. killing it. if you count being a trust fund brat as an accomplishment.

rafe's closer now, and you know this moment is inevitable. the frat boys are giddy, already nudging each other, probably ready to beg him for networking advice or whatever the hell frat bros did.

you keep your eyes down, focusing on pouring the drinks, acting like you don't even notice him. like he doesn't phase you in the slightest.

“hey,” a familiar voice drawls. you don't have to lift your head to know it's him. naturally, he stops right by you. because why wouldn’t he?

“rafe fucking cameron!” one of the guys yells, unable to keep it together anymore. “you’re like a legend, man. kappa forever!”

you never cringed so hard in your life.

rafe smirks, that signature look spreading across his face. “yeah, somethin' like that.”

you clench your jaw, forcing yourself to keep your face neutral. no way in hell are you about to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he still gets to you. 

everyone else around you are tripping over their words just to get his attention. it's embarrassing to watch. the kids acting like he's some kind of messiah, not just some white rich guy with a trust fund and a bad attitude half the time.

“man, the outer banks is fucking sick,” one of them says, bouncing on his feet like an overexcited puppy. “we’ve been hitting the beaches, bars, y’know, living it up. and bro, the girls here? smoking hot.”

here we go. 

you pretend to be very invested in the cooler, rearranging the ice just to keep your hands busy. they're about to start pointing at you any second now; you can sense it.

the way they keep looking over at you made it obvious they're gearing up for something.

and then, like clockwork, it happens.

“yeah, man,” one of them gestures way too enthusiastically in your direction. “that cart girl over there? we’ve been trying all morning.”

oh, fuck right off, you resist the urge to throw a bottle at him.

you’d rather die than hear what lame pickup line is coming next, but what you really don't want to hear is whatever rafe's about to say.

there was a pause, as if he's taking a second to let it sink in. and when he finally does speak, his voice is all smooth confidence, casual as anything.

“so,” he starts, still with smirk you hate and know so well, “you’ve met my girl?”

my girl? my fucking girl?

one of them, manages to stammer, “uh—wait, she’s… she’s your girl?”

you can feel the tension creeping up the back of your neck. this's exactly why you’ve been avoiding him.

no matter what happened between you, no matter how messy things got, he always acted like he owned you in private. never in front of his friends, like just because you ended up in his bed, you were his to claim whenever he felt like it.

still keeping your eyes glued to the drinks, you feel your blood boil. you aren't his fucking girl. you're barely on speaking terms, aside from that one weak moment.

he's only saying it to mess with you.

one of the frat boys lets out a low whistle, clearly impressed. “damn, man. didn’t know you were still pulling like that.” he shoots a glance at you again, not even bothering to hide the once-over.

rafe just chuckles, that low, infuriating laugh of his, like he knows exactly how to get under your skin. “what can i say?” he drawls, as if the whole thing is just a game to him. “guess i’ve still got it.”

you're this close—this close—to snapping. you can feel your fists clenching at your sides. you're not giving him the satisfaction of a reaction. not here. not in front of these frat boys who're still looking at you like some kind of trophy.

rafe’s voice is closer now. you don't have to look up to know he's standing right by the cart.

“you good over there?” he asks, that fake casual tone still lingering.

you don't answer. just kept doing your job, biting the inside of your cheek so hard it hurts. but he isn't going to let it go. he never did when he wanted to prove a point.

“hey, baby.” he greets you again, leaning in slightly. you can feel his eyes burning into the side of your face. “you gonna pretend you don’t know me now?”

you take a deep breath, finally turning to face him. he's standing way too close, sunglasses pushed up on his head, that stupid expression plastered across his face.

the frat boys are all watching, wide-eyed, like they just stumbled onto some kind of reality show drama.

“you’re funny, cameron.” the guys all exchange glances, clearly picking up on the tension but too dumb to understand it, “can you guys give us a minute?”

one of them pipes up with an awkward laugh, “wait, but we—”

you don't let him finish. “one. minute.” 

they finally catch on that it isn't a request and before they can awkwardly protest or ask why, rafe tilts his head towards them, craning his neck just enough to raise a single brow. the change in his posture is subtle but enough to have them clamming up instantly.

like magic, their frat-boy bravado melts right off. it's wild how fast a bunch of college boys can shrink under the gaze of someone like him.

the power trip they’ve been riding for the last hour stop.

“uh, yeah, you know what?” one of them coughs out, backing up so fast he almost trips over his golf bag. “we should, uh… we’ll hit the bathroom. real quick.”

“yeah, yeah, we’ll be right back,” another one adds, practically stumbling over himself to follow.

they scatter like scared puppies, tails tucked between their legs, and you can't help the small, satisfied smirk that twitches at the corner of your mouth.

finally, a moment of peace.

except, it's not peace. not with rafe standing there. 

as soon as the frat boys are out of earshot, you spin around, without thinking, you shove him in the chest with both hands, hard enough to catch him off guard. he stumbles back a step, his face twisting into a look of surprise.

"are you fucking crazy?" you snap, "do you not get the fucking hint, country club? i don’t want this. i don’t want you here, and i sure as hell don’t want your bullshit claims that ’m your girl in front of those idiots. leave. me. alone.”

he steadies himself, raising both hands as if trying to calm you down. “’m trying to be better, okay? ’m trying. i apologized the other night, didn’t i? ’m—”

“no, you didn’t!” you look at him like he's the dumbest man on earth, cutting him off, your hands balled into fists at your sides. “you didn’t apologize! you said i was overreacting, that i was being ‘dramatic.’ then, you fucked me and acted like that made it all better.”

his jaw tightens, and he takes a deep breath as he glances around the mostly empty golf course before his eyes move back to you, his voice low but firm. "that’s not how i meant it—"

“you always have an excuse,” you interrupt, stepping closer, not backing down. “every time, it’s the same thing. you think a half-assed apology or a night in bed makes up for the way you treat me in public? like ‘m just some thing you get to claim whenever you feel like it?"

he visibly recoils at the word you chose, like it hurts him, “i know,” he finally mutters “i know i was a dick at that dinner. but ’m trying, okay? i’ve been calling you, texting you—”

“i didn’t ask. am i that good in bed? go find someone else.”

rafe’s hand flies up to pinch the bridge of his nose, a frustrated sigh escaping him. he draggs his tongue against his cheek. his voice coming out clipped, “i don’t want someone else,” he grunts out, sounding more exasperated than ever. “jesus fucking christ.”

you let out a laugh, stepping back, eyes rolling.

“oh, right. that’s it? ’m really that good in bed, huh? that’s why you’re here?” you cross your arms, your tone biting, daring him to say otherwise. “that’s all this has ever been, right? physical. you don’t call unless you want something. so what now? why are you trying so hard? what the hell are you trying for?”

he doesn't respond right away, his fingers are digging into the bridge of his nose like he's trying to hold himself together. the silence continues, and you can see him wrestling with his words. he's never been the type to say what he was feeling.

everything is buried under layers of cocky bravado, that impenetrable wall he put up to keep everyone at arm’s length. including you.

finally, he dropps his hand and takes a step closer, his voice coming out rough like he's forcing the words out. “’m here because i don’t want someone else. i want you, alright? can you just get that through your fucking head?”

you scoff, “because i know you and won’t get attached?”

he snaps, raising his voice, “no! fuck, it’s not that simple.”

"not that simple?" your hands are shaking, and you accidentally knock over one of the bottles you’d been holding before, sending it tumbling to the ground. you don't bother picking it up.

“it’s pretty fucking simple. we’re just fucking. so, tell me, what exactly is complicated about that? you call, i come over, we have sex, and that’s it. so why the fuck do you start ignoring me in public like ’m some kind of fucking disease?”

rafe opens his mouth, but you don't spare him the chance to speak, you're on a roll, months of pent-up frustration. 

“i don’t give a fuck if you’re with someone else, rafe!” you can hear the bitterness dripping from every word. you're practically spitting them out, “what pisses me off is that you had the audacity—the fucking nerve—to ask me to stay that night. do you know how fucking stupid i felt? how the fuck do you think i felt when you acted like i didn’t exist the next day?”

you can feel your hands trembling again, the adrenaline making you shaky, cursing under your breath.

“for once, i was nice enough to care about you, to stay, and that’s the shit you pulled. treated me like a ghost. like i was nothing.”

he just stands there, staring at you, his jaw tight, but he doesn't say a word. his face is hard to read, but you don't care about his feelings. you're not done yet.

“i was fine with the sex. i was fine with leaving afterwards and then you had to go and fuck it all over.”

rafe’s blue eyes flash, and you can see the realization hit him, like he's connecting the dots too fast for your liking.

his brows furrow as he breathes out, “wait. you’re mad at me because i made you—” he hesitates, like the word is foreign in his mouth, “care for me?”

you let out a harsh, bitter laugh. “oh, for fuck's sake, country club. don't flatter yourself.”

“you always do that shit,” he points out, stepping closer “you never call me by my name when we’re having a serious conversation. it's almost like you’re running away.”

you arch an eyebrow, incredulous. “are you delusional? you’re the one acting like a child.”

“’m not being delusional. you only say my name in my room when it’s just the two of us.” he leans in slightly, lowering his voice as if he's trying to keep this moment between you, his blue eyes lock onto yours making your stomach twist. “’m clearly not the only one who’s pretending here; you’re just as bad.”

you feel the heat rush to your cheeks as you walk back, trying to create space, but he closes the distance with easy confidence.

“pretending? please. ‘m not the one playing house in my bedroom while acting like i don’t know you outside of it.”

rafe lets out a low, frustrated groan, running his hand through his hair like he's close to losing it. 

“god, you’re fucking infuriating,” he mutters, voice gruff, “you think i don’t fucking feel it too? you’re the only one pissed off, the only one confused?” his voice dipps lower in frustration. “i can’t stop thinking about you, no matter how hard i try. "

“oh, boo-fucking-hoo,” you mocked back, “must be so hard, huh? being obsessed with a girl you can’t even respect in public.”

his hand reaches out to grab your wrist. you gasp, not out of fear but because the heat of his touch awakes the resting butterflies in your stomach. you hate how much your skin reacts to him, how just the feel of his grip makes your brain go foggy and shut down.

“i do respect you,” he growls, as if you just insulted him, “i just—fuck.” his eyes dart between yours, as if searching for something. then, like clockwork, he points at your work uniform—the stupid polo and that absurdly short skirt that's practically a sin in itself.

“this,” he grits out, fingers gesturing to the tight polo that does absolutely nothing but make your boobs look way too inviting, “is not okay.”

you blink, pretending to be unaffected, but his words have a way of crawling under your skin.

“oh, right,” you nod sarcastically, even though your pulse has kicked up a notch. “blame my uniform, like that’s the reason you can’t keep your hands to yourself.”

rafe groans like you're causing him actual physical pain, his hands gripping the edge of the golf cart now, knuckles turning white.

“shit, yeah, i’ll blame the uniform,” he says, eyes blazing as he corners you. “that tiny-ass skirt, walking around in front of me all day, making me lose my goddamn mind.”

just like that, his hand slide right under your mini skirt, his fingers gripping a handful of your ass with a confidence that makes your breath hitch.

the sudden contact sends a rush of heat through you, and a soft gasp escapes your glossy lips.

that’s when he takes his chance.

with another low groan, rafe seizes the moment, pressing his body against yours, leaning down as he kisses you, his tongue sliding into your mouth, the kiss deepening in an instant.

it's not sweet—you can tell that now because you know that hidden part of him, you can tell the difference when it comes out. today he's desperate like he’s been waiting to it for days and can't take it anymore.

he's a starved man on a mission. it's a feverish mess of spit and teeth, his grip on you impossibly tight.

his hand still kneads your ass, blunt fingernails digging into your skin trying to keep you from bolting away. at the same time, his other hand slides up to your neck, firm but not enough to hurt, just enough to keep you locked in place—he's daring you to pull away, knowing full well you won't.

logic doesn't stand a chance against the way his lips move against yours, he's sucking all the fight from you.

his tongue slides against yours, and your stomach jumps at the sensation, making you gasp. you try to pull back for a second, needing air, needing space, but his grip on your neck tightens, holding you in place as his lips move against yours like he'll die if you stop.

and maybe he would. maybe he's just as messed up about all of this as you are.

rafe’s teeth scrape against your bottom lip, and right then and there, you know your panties are already ruined. you can't stop the small whimper that escapes your throat, and he moans at the sound, his hips pressing harder against yours, making you feel just how much he wants you.

“fuck,” he almost whines against your lips, like he's barely keeping himself from fucking you out there in the open, not giving a shit if anyone's watching. his hand on your neck glides around to the back of your head, tangling in your hair as he tuggs slightly, tilting your head back so he can kiss you even harder, his lips moving against yours in a way that makes it impossible to think straight. “you have no idea what you do to me.”

the truth is, you do. you know exactly what you do to him because he's doing the same thing to you.

but there's no way in hell you’ll admit that. not when he already has you completely under his spell, melting into his touch, drowning in the way he kisses you like he owns you.

you attempt to hold onto that edge of disdain you always throw his way when things get too personal. his breath is hot and ragged as he hovers.

his hand, still tangled in your hair, loosens slightly but stays there. it's so fucking unfair—the way he just sneaks under your skin, the way your body betrays you every time he gets close. you hate it.

especially with the way his fingers are already sliding up your bare thigh under that ridiculously skirt, as if he owns every single inch of you, like he has a goddamn right to touch you like that.

and instead of pushing him away like you should, you find yourself leaning into him. and fuck, the look in his eyes—all black, wild, like he it's his last shred of self-control—is enough to make your pulse skyrocket.

“asshole,” it comes out weak, pathetic and almost breathless, and you hate yourself for it.

“yeah,” he whispers back, lips brushing yours, his hand still in your hair, still holding you close. “but you like it.”

god, maybe you did.

the frat boys finally return, their laughter breaking the bubble that had you on a leash.

within seconds, you're pushing rafe’s hands away, stepping back as of them claps him on the back.

“we miss anything?”

“nah, just catchin’ up,” rafe said, brushing off the whole thing as if it's no big deal.

you, on the other hand, pick up one of the empty glasses, avoiding eye contact with any of them.

one of the guys chuckles. “man, you two… y’all good?”

no. not when there's the slightest of the slightest possibility that you're starting to feel something for him. not the stupid crush you had before, or the simple curiosity of figuring out how he was in bed. 

real, scary, big girl feelings. 

no way. not after everything. not after he pulled that same crap, acting like you didn’t know you in front of his friends, then turning around and getting all possessive when it suited him.

 “better than ever.”

eyes locked on rafe, you bite out the final blow.

“yeah, better than ever. just like every other fucking rich frat boy—using daddy��s money, pretending you’re a god. but deep down, you’re all the same. losers. why don’t you keep them company, huh? you’re all family after all.”

his blue eyes drop to the green field at the mention of his dad, but he keeps quiet despite realizing you’re doing this on purpose.

he’ll let you have this one because he knows it’s deserving. fuck he’d probably let you punch him in the face if you asked him to. 

you turn on your heel and walk away, leaving him behind, knowing you hit him exactly where it hurt.

[bananayuyu]

Tell Me No {2}

Pairing: professor!Yunho x f reader

Genre: smut, dark academia vibes

Word count: 4.9k

Summary: Your relationship with Professor Jeong is blooming, but finals are coming and have you stressed beyond belief. Will you be able to survive them, when all you want to do is spend time with your gorgeous professor?

Warnings: smut, MDNI, oral (f receiving), fingering, squirting, praise

A/n: I've got part 3 planned out already, lmk if you wanna be tagged!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Masterlist | Read it on ao3

"How's my favorite student doing?"

Professor Jeong's whisper is so soft you can barely hear it, his face not lifting from the stack of papers on his desk. The classroom is quiet, but not silent, and the blanket of soft chatter is hiding your interaction just enough that you decide to respond.

"Fine, I guess," you whisper back, his head raising in concern. His face is serious as he looks deep into your eyes, trying to read why you've just said that.

"After class," is all he says in return, and you know from the nervous shifting of his eyes that it's time to walk away, time to slink back to your desk.

You were nervous, terribly, horribly nervous for finals, that was why your head was spinning and you were barely getting sleep. It was make or break time, the last two weeks of the semester when every bit of work you'd put in would either pay off, or disintegrate in your hands.

You wished you found school easy, but you just never did. As much as you loved to write you found the structure of classes and exams hard to cope with, even though you knew how important it was for your future career.

If you were ever going to make it as a writer, you'd need connections and letters of recommendation and people on your side. You'd never tasted an ounce of support from your family, when it came to these dreams. Being here had helped you understand how important these University relationships were, that your professors or peers might be people many years down the line who helped you succeed. You'd received more positive feedback in the last few weeks that ever in your life; even your annoying classmate liked your work enough to tell you.

"That last story prof read was yours, wasn't it?" Marcus asks as class ends, the room filled with warmth from the wood stove in the corner, winter now upon you.

"How could you tell?" you ask, rolling your eyes as you turn back to face him.

"You always include a cat in your stories, no matter how irrelevant, it's pretty fucking obvious."

"Okay, sorry for doing that, I guess," you sigh, eyes hitting the ceiling again.

"I'm not tryna be an asshole, seriously, it was good. And prof obviously loved it too, he was smiling the whole time he read."

A jolt of happiness shoots through you at the mention of Professor Jeong's admiration, and it takes every bit of your will to avoid smiling.

"Well, thanks then," you respond, shooting Marcus a quick, tight smile.

"Wow, see, the ice is breaking, you aren't being such a bitch to me anymore," he laughs, grabbing his bag and zipping it closed. "You finally warming up to me?"

"No, absolutely fucking not," you grimace, staring back at his waggling eyebrows.

"Forget I said that, then," he laughs, standing and walking out of the room, your eyes snaking over the empty desks around and the small line of students at the front of the room, asking for extensions or extra credit work to make up their grades before the end of the semester.

"I asked you to rewrite this paper three weeks ago," you hear Professor Jeong telling the boy in front of him, filing the short stories from the day into his bag.

"I know sir, I'm very sorry, I was just too busy with my other classes-"

"I know this is upsetting to hear, but I can't give you more of an extension than I already have. This is a small school, we do not operate with the goal of passing as many students as we can. Other students in this very class have made up work I've requested, within the time I requested it. It simply wouldn't be fair to them to let you get away with this." His eyes raise to meet yours for a moment, before moving down to the boy again. "Listen, you got good grades on your first two papers, and if you do well on the final, you will pass. Just focus on the final, and you will be fine."

The boy shuffles off in frustration, and several students behind follow him too, not bothering to try to convince your professor of giving them second chances. Was it too harsh? You couldn't tell how you felt about it, because a part of you felt so flattered by what he'd said. You were the student who redid work on time, and had worked your ass off since to maintain high grades in all your classes. If you'd neglected work like your classmate had, you'd understand your professor not giving you another chance. You didn't know what the boy's life was like, whether there were legitimate reasons for his inability to rewrite the paper; so much panic, so much worry over a person you didn't know was a clear indication of just how stressed you were.

You could care all day about the plight of everyone around you. But until you secured your independence and stability, you really needed to focus on yourself.

You waited patiently for the last student to exit the room, before gathering your things. You and your handsome professor had tried to not be obvious, to not spend time lingering around each other when other students or faculty were present. But there was something about always being the last to leave class that you liked; even on days when you didn't follow him home, you still got to have at least one private conversation, and even if he hadn't touched you, the few moments alone would leave you tingling with warmth all over.

He hadn't let things escalate any further, in the weeks since. You still made out when you visited his house, still felt his hardness through the thick cotton of his pants, let him touch you and tease you and drive you completely insane. But never had he seemed to want to push it further, and though you should have been laser focused on school, you couldn't help thinking about it. Did he not want you like you wanted him? Was he caught in feeling wrong for liking you the way he did?

Together you exit the building in complete silence, the air still but frigid. You had worn your favorite black leg warmers today, paired with your thickest tights, a white thermal turtle neck, and your warmest navy blue sweater. You even had long socks on, the white contrasting against your dark blue Mary Janes, but you still shivered as you stepped outside. You should have brought your winter coat today, but there was nothing you could do about it now. Usually on clear days like today, the sun warmed the winter air by early afternoon, enough that you wouldn't need so many layers.

You walk fast to help warm yourself, moving through the routine you knew well by now. You wait by the platform as Professor Jeong buys your tickets, and he slips one carefully in your hand as he walks past, only glancing at you a moment before moving to stand ten feet away. Your body aches to follow him and be next to him always, but you know as well as he does that you really shouldn't get caught. As sweet and wholesome as this whole thing felt to you, it wasn't something other people needed to know about. You were sure most wouldn't understand, and those who did might only tease you about it endlessly.

It takes several minutes for the train to arrive, running late due to the freezing weather. Though it'd barely snowed in the morning, enough water froze over on parts of the track to require some last minute maintenance. You both rush to the door with every other waiting passenger, pushing your way close to the front to not miss out on a seat. On days like today no one was walking home, and the trains got uncomfortably full.

You push in behind him, handing your ticket off quickly, and stumble into the seat to his right, pretending like you'd accidentally ended up there and were just thankful to be sitting. People crowd the isle, a pair of legs mere inches from your own. You were thankful they belonged to a girl, one who leaned down and whispered 'sorry!' when a bump in the track knocked her sideways and into you slightly. Most of the students lived just one stop down, and in a few minutes the car is much less chaotic; you finally chance a glance in his direction, taking in his profile, the soft plane of his cheeks and perfect curve of his nose.

His head turns, and suddenly you snap your head away, feeling almost shy. He widens his thighs, leaning forward and sitting more comfortably, but the movement has caused your legs to touch and your whole body burns at the feeling, the opposite of relaxing. You want to mount him, climb into his lap and kiss and ride him until all your problems are forgotten. But you're in public, still several students and other professors littered through the train car, and you have to keep your composure.

Finally, you arrive at his stop. Forthsmith station is as barren as it always is, and as soon as the train is gone his hand is on your back, the two of you making quick work of the small walk to his house. Even he feels cold in his thick wool suit, the late November weather not usually this cold, the two of you clinging to each other for any warmth you can find.

As soon as you're greeted with the warmth of his cozy home, you sigh in relief. He lights the fire under his mantle, and as the wood starts crackling you walk to him, wrapping your arms around his back and squeezing hard. He chuckles, tugging on your arms to release, before turning around and pulling you in, sighing at the perfect feeling of your head tucked in his chest and arms around his back. In a moment you're raising your head to kiss him, and it's warm and sweet and so gentle, making your frigid body melt into him. You hold onto his neck, pulling him in. It's so easy to get lost in each other the moment you're alone, when you have to pretend in all other contexts to barely even notice each other. Soon your kiss is paired with heavy breaths and tongues, and the heat between your thighs is growing fast, your body begging you to find something to grind against.

You pull him to the edge of the couch and push him down on it, climbing onto his lap and straddling him. His cock is obviously hard, and immediately you're grinding against it and kissing him, his hands coming up to grip onto your ass and guide your movements. You've barely spoken a word to each other, because this is all you really wanted to do; to be back in each other's arms after so many days apart, your schedules not allowing for a moment like this in too long.

"How's my pretty girl feeling?" he asks, breaking the kiss and pulling his hands to the sides of your face.

"I'm fine," you whine, frustrated he's not matching your movements anymore. "I'm horny," you whisper.

"I know, angel, I can tell, but you looked upset earlier, I want to know if you're feeling alright."

"I just want you to touch me so I can forget about it all," you sigh, pouting at him.

"That's not how adults deal with their problems, angel," he responds. You roll your eyes, but finally give up your humping, slumping into his chest again. "Tell me what's wrong."

"I'm just very stressed for finals," you say.

"Which final are you most stressed about?" he asks, running a hand down your back.

"Yours," you say, snuggling into him more.

"Mine? Why mine?"

"Cause it's two parts, two separate days, that's really intimidating."

He sighs, taking in a deep breath. "I'm not going to lie to you and say it's easy, but I know you can do it." You just grumble beneath him, not responding with anything coherent. "What always helps me when I'm nervous about something is to do a trial run. I did that with my thesis defense, I performed it to my roommates probably three times in the week leading up to it. It helped a lot."

You nod your head against him, wondering just how hard the rest of your academic career would be, if you'd ever be able to get to the point of defending a doctorate thesis.

"I know what we should do. I will have you do a mock exam tonight, I'll time you and everything, and then you'll get to see that it really isn't so bad."

"What?" you asked, head shooting up. "I don't want to do that, I'm tired..." you whine, looking pathetically frustrated.

"I'll reward you after, how does that sound?" he asks, squeezing your thigh in his hand.

"But the exam is like four hours total," you sigh, pouting.

"We'll just do one section tonight, you get to choose. Which one are you most nervous about?" he asks.

"The- the short story," you stutter. "I think the essay portion will be fine, I've written so many five-paragraph essays in my life. Writing a whole short story by hand in two hours sounds awful though."

"Awful? Like I'm trying to torture you?" he mocks, smirking.

"Shut up," you grumble, turning your head away and making him laugh.

"Okay, short story it is. I'll get you some paper and a pencil and we'll do it in my office, so it feels more like you're at school," he says. "And I promise the reward will be worth it darling, I promise to make you feel so good." His voice is low and sensual as the sentence leaves his lips, and your body shudders with need, your chest flushing. He gives you a quick chaste kiss on the cheek before standing you up, moving to his office to set out the materials you'd need, and pulling out his desk chair for you. In minutes you're sitting at his desk and he's starting his timer, leaving the room to start preparing dinner while you panic internally about what the hell to write about.

It was so hard to come up with something on the spot, no prompt to help you. But like always, the feelings you were having translated right onto the page, and before you knew it a creepy and mysterious story was pouring out of you, atmospheric and unnerving, matching the anxiety you were still feeling about the next two weeks of your life. An hour in he'd brought you a cup of soup, and gingerly you sipped at it without spilling on your pages, careful to dip your roll in the broth and avoid sending crumbs flying in all directions.

"You done?" he asks when he enters again, the timer on his phone beeping. You'd made it the two hours, time flying remarkably fast. Your hand was starting to cramp, but you felt proud of yourself. You'd actually managed to do it, and he was right; you were no longer so fearful of his coming exam.

You nodded at him with a genuine smile, turning your papers around to show him your completed work.

"See, I knew you could do it," he says, leaning down across his desk to place a kiss on your cheek. "Now read it for me, from start to finish."

"Oh, sir, I- I don't know-" You cut yourself off with a sigh, looking away from him.

"I want to hear it," he says, voice low and buttery in that way you love, your insides rolling.

"But it's not very good," you pout, looking back to him.

"I'm sure that's not true," he says, sitting himself on the edge of his desk and crossing his legs. "Come on, read it."

"Okay," you say shakily, letting out a trapped breath.

"'You know what you must do, child,' my mother says. She's staring down the letter I've received, the letter from Lucifer himself, calling upon me. Red ink stains the page, the characters boxy and sharp. 'Come now, or he dies.' And I know exactly who he's referring to. Dahlia is slinking around the side of the room, his rose gold fur shining in the moonlight. My mother tries to resist him, but she's never been able. Who would have ever guessed that a demon lived inside this beautiful cat, cursed for a thousand years to be stuck in this strange form, never knowing who or what will come along next in his life?"

It starts flowing out of you the moment you get over the hurdle of simply starting, and then Professor Jeong's eyes are fixed on you and sparkling with awe, spurring you on further, making your heart sing.

"It was a long trek to the station. The Midnight Train stopped only once in our town, across the river from my family's old stone cottage. As I crossed the bridge the water twinkled, a soft breeze blowing through the tall grass in the valley. It was peaceful and quiet, soft moonlight illuminating the path ahead. Not a soul was out, just the haze of smoke from chimneys. I breathed hard as I neared the station. My body was not up to this sort of journey, but I'd known from the moment I started my letter that I'd be coming here. There was no where else for girls like me to go."

It was easy to speak, easy to feel proud of your work when he looked so pleased. You read through the horrors of the Midnight Train, tried your best to make your voice spooky and haunted, but all it did was make a chuckle escape from deep within him, his beautiful high cheekbones on display. You take in a sharp breath to calm your own laughter, steadying yourself for the last page of your story.

"Through the back door of the dining car, a final room appears to me, and from the shadowy darkness a skeleton comes, creaking in its movements. 'Ms. Delphine, a pleasure,' he says as he bows, his middle ribs clicking together. 'I always appreciate a visit from one of the chosen protectors.' I stare down at my precious companion in my arms, his face soft and tranquil, as if he hadn't noticed the horrors around us. 'It is a true curse, and a true calling,' I nodded, staring into his empty eye sockets. It was clear I had much to learn. The damned see life differently. Of course they do, I thought. How could I have been so short sighted to think otherwise?

The skeleton moves aside, holding a hand out towards the back of the room. With careful steps I glide forward, finally making out the shape of a door. When I open it, the sky is bright and birds are singing, flowers dotting a lush field. In the distance I spot the Unchosen Castle. It is strikingly shiny and bright. I hold a hand up to shade my eyes. 'We'll be seeing you,' the skeleton says. I turn back to him, the room brighter now. Rotting flesh is hanging off his left knee cap. A bullet hole is obvious in the side of his skull.

But as strange as it is, I don't feel panic. When I look down, Dahlia is asleep in my arms. I was called upon, but expected to leave. My old life out of reach, my new life a set of honors. But I had no desire to step out into that field. I close the door instead and breathe in the muskiness. The darkness greets me. For the first time in my life, I feel completely at home."

"Wonderful, just wonderful," Professor Jeong says, shaking his head and clasping his hands together. "Promise me you will write horror books when you're older."

"I want to," you smile, blinking as you look up at him.

"It's a wonderful style, almost a cozy horror, if that makes sense."

You turn your eyes down, overcome with the way he's so perfectly described what you were going for. To know it had translated off the page sent your head spinning. Could you really do this, become a successful author? It was him above anyone else, who was making you believe in that future.

"Come on, let's go back to the living room," he says as he grabs your empty bowl, pushing in his desk chair once you stand out of it.

As soon as you're back in the coziness of the fire-lit room, your hands are on him and his are on you, grabbing for every bit of each other.

"My little genius," he sighs, kissing you soft and tenderly, arms wrapping tightly around you. "You did so good for me, doing exactly what I asked. And you wrote so well."

"I wanna be good for you, that's all I want to do," you sigh, opening your mouth further, relishing in feeling his tongue against yours, the soft warmth tantalizing and true.

"Let me taste you then," he says, and you suddenly can't breathe, jitters snaking their way up through your legs and landing straight in your core. "That sound good?" he chuckles, your shocked face so utterly adorable, and you murmur a soft 'mhm' before kissing him again.

He lets you deepen it, pulling your faces together and relishing in the taste of each other's mouths. Your body is tight against him, on your tiptoes to reach as high as you can, but still he is bent over slightly to meet you, holding onto your low back as you arch into his touch. Your hips press against his, and you can feel how hard he is already; you swear he's yearning to fuck you as much as you're yearning for it too, but he's taking his time, waiting patiently, and something about that is making your brain melt even more.

You'd never been treated so respectfully in your life. It was such a confusing feeling, because you knew he shouldn't be wanting you like this at all. But if anyone was a fly on the wall and could see how he acted, you were sure no one would think negatively of him at all.

Slowly he breaks the kiss, planting a final peck on your nose before leaning down and undoing the strap on each of your shoes, helping you carefully step out of them. Then he pulls off your leg warmers, setting them in a pile beside your shoes. The anticipation of what's coming off next sends shivers through you, and when he looks up he catches sight of the lust in your eyes, his eyes shiny in the yellow light. He takes his time with your tights, pulling gently at the waist to move them over your hips, and his hands feel electric against your bare ass, making your mouth water. As he pulls them down your thighs he relishes the moment, planting soft kisses in your plushness and moving closer and closer to the small nest at your center, making you squirm.

"You smell amazing, angel," he says, his pupils blown at he looks up at you, his eyes darker now than you'd ever seen them. He looks good like this, his cheeks slightly flushed, hair faintly disheveled. You wonder what he'd look like after a good ravishing, how perfect he'd be with swollen lips and completely messy hair. You reach down to mess it up further, the dark black locks soft and lusciously thick in your hand. Soon he's pulled your tights completely down, and you hold onto his shoulders to balance as you step each foot out in quick succession.

"Come here," he says, leading you to the couch and sitting you down as he'd been earlier. When he leans in you grab onto his suit jacket again, pulling him closer and deeper, loving the feeling of the soft, thick wool in your hands. Since winter started he'd been wearing gorgeous suits every day, and you'd be lying if you said it wasn't so incredibly distracting during class.

"You like my suit?" he asks, chuckling as he makes his way to your neck and places gentle kisses from your jaw to your shoulder, making you shudder in pleasure.

"Yes," you sigh in response, tipping your head back.

"Does it turn you on?" he jokes further.

"Yeah, it does," you chuckle, lifting your head back up to nip at his ear in retaliation. He just laughs and pulls back, before diving into your plush lips again and devouring you. He's been thinking about this for days, and it's making his head fuzzy that you're half naked in front of him, spread wide on his couch.

Finally he moves down to your thighs, leaving gentle nips and licking along the length of them, making you wetter as your cunt tingles in need. It's agonizing waiting for him to get there, but when he does, when he licks a slow stripe up the entire length of your slit and moans at the taste, it's more than worth it. Your back is already arching, knees pushing themselves even wider so he has all the room he needs. He does it again, before focusing his attention on your clit, licking slow half circles around it, the warmth of his tongue too perfect to comprehend.

He spends his time working you up, holding onto your thighs and whispering praises, 'god you taste so fucking good,' or 'good girl, open up for me.' Your cunt is flushed and pink and wet for him, and finally he brings his right hand to meet his mouth, slipping to finger slowly into you and making you almost scream.

The deepness of the feeling is instantly delicious. You reach your hands out to grip onto his hair, groaning in pleasure as he starts sucking harder, pumping his fingers in and out of you slowly, but with force. He's curling them up in that perfect way, hitting the exact spot that drives you crazy, and the pleasure builds fast, your cunt feeling fiery-hot and utterly amazing. It's taking your breath away, how smooth he is, how each movement seems perfectly controlled and perfectly tailored to you. He looks up once, catching your eye, and you almost fall over the edge in an instant from the sight of him between your legs, his pink cheeks stained with your wetness. You throw your head back, moaning loudly, and he picks up his speed slightly, feeling the walls of cunt starting to shake, knowing what's about to come.

Suddenly your pleasure is growing higher than you expect, but even as it reaches amazing heights, it keeps building, keeps growing. You're almost screaming at the feeling, so intense you're unable to comprehend it at all, and then suddenly you feel it, your legs shaking, your cunt squeezing down on him, and the extreme wetness spilling out of you. You look down to see his face covered in your squirt, a look of pure satisfaction on his face as he milks you through all of it, your high-pitched moans the most beautiful melody. Your orgasm lasts longer than any you've ever had, and by the end you're dumbfounded, slumping back into his couch and breathing uncontrollably, blinking in your confusion.

"That was so hot, fuck," he groans when he finally pulls away from you, moving back up to wipe a hand over your cheek and take a look at your eyes. "You feeling okay?"

"Yes, I definitely am," you chuckle, a small tear escaping from your right eye, and you wipe it away quickly. "That was fucking crazy."

"Have you ever squirted before?" he asks.

"No, I didn't know I could," you answer, smiling shyly.

"Fuck," he sighs, ego doing somersaults at knowing he was the one to help you discover that ability. He chuckles before sitting himself down next to you, wrapping you up in his arms and cradling you, planting soft kisses on your forehead as you come down.

Twenty minutes later you're a yawning mess, your body completely wracked from how hard you came. It was also growing late, the street outside dark and gloomy, the fire crackling in the corner was giving you much needed warmth that was only adding to your sleepiness.

"I don't think I can make it home," you tell him, looking up with upward turned eyebrows, hoping he'll let you stay.

"No staying here until finals are done," he says, shaking his head, and you pout and shove your head in his chest, frustrated. "I want you to stay here with me too, darling, but I can't be the reason you don't make it to your classes tomorrow."

You sigh in knowing he's right, that it's probably not a good idea to stay when you have such important days ahead. It takes all your remaining energy to stand up, redressing in the warmth of his living room, and sliding on your shoes. He brings your bag for you, carrying it as he walks you back to the station, before sending you off with a quick kiss on the cheek.

The train is nearly empty so late, and the air feels colder when you step off, without him by your side. But all you can think about is his mouth and fingers and tongue, and that night you sleep like a baby, completely and totally content.

next part ->

Taglist: @iamalily @atzri @marii1087 @dilfkimhjj @yunyuniverse

Thank you all for the feedback and support <3333333333

[cognitiveafflatus]

i find it uniquely incredible that recently, somehow, the only posts i ever see from following the tag "slay the princess" are about the voices, and sometimes even shipping the voices, and seemingly focusing almost exclusively on them.

like i never really got it before until i saw this trend, and maybe tumblr is just giving me consistently dogshit posts in term of variety but it's incredible how a game who's titular character is a princess. who is the only character you can physically see in the game for almost 99% of the time. is somehow being made exclusively about male characters. who are also all one guy technically but talking in different voices.

like i just never fucking interact with people on this site besides via art or other mostly irrelevant comments so i didnt get it but wow yeah okay yall were right about the female character erasure in fandom spaces thing holy shit. like i thought it was an exaggeration but there are three fucking characters total in stp and i havent seen the one woman actually show up when tumblr suggests me a post with the tag in like a month. im sure if i go look id probably find her right now easily but it's insane how consistently the new stuff i was getting was only about the male voices. god.

[fairyhaos]

❖ all mother nature's fault // joshua hong

joshua x gn!reader, 1.9k+ words

tags: non-idol au, fluff, established relationship, crack, me furthering my 'joshua hong has erratic hay fever' hc, kinda sick fic

warnings: mentions of medicine ??

notes: good lord,,, sick!shua is just so pathetic (fond)

“Joshua? Shua, are you there?” 

You step into Joshua and Jeonghan’s shared apartment, humming a little to yourself as you take off your sunglasses, the spare keys that Joshua had given you dangling in your hands.

It’s a delightfully sunny day, and you’re dressed all nicely, fully sun-screened and ready to go out. Joshua had asked you yesterday if you wanted to go on a walk in the park today, and you’d never say no to spending a sunny, lovely day out with your boyfriend.

But at 11am, Joshua hadn’t appeared on your doorstep, so you’ve come looking for him in his own home.

“Joshua?” you call again, padding through the apartment to stop at his bedroom, knocking on his door. “Are you in here? Can I come in?”

“The door’s open,” a voice says, and you open the door to see Jeonghan sitting on the bed, holding a box of tissues next to a sprawled-out Joshua.

“Oh, Jeonghan?” you say in surprise. “Why are you here?”

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. “I live here, too,” he says, sounding put-out.

You laugh, closing the door behind you. “You don’t live here in Joshua’s room, though,” you say, but Jeonghan just waves a hand like that little fact is irrelevant.

“I can live anywhere I want. I pay half the rent for this place.” He looks down at Joshua, and grins. “Unfortunately, the other rent payer is a little… incapacitated right now.”

And he’s right. ‘Incapacitated’ is probably the right way to describe Joshua’s state, because he’s pathetically lying spread-eagled on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, head propped up with multiple pillows. He’s still in his pyjamas. In the few minutes that you’ve been in his room, you’ve seen him take at least three tissues from Jeonghan to blow his nose.

“I’m sick,” Joshua says, and he sounds all bunged up. “No, I’m not sick. I’m going to die. I’m dying.”

You can’t help but laugh a little at how dramatically miserable he’s being, sitting next to him on the bed. “Is it your hay fever?”

“Of course it’s my hay fever,” Joshua laments, and then sniffs loudly. He turns his head, looking at you through puffed-up eyes, before sniffing again. “I can feel all the pollen particles attacking my body right now.”

“That bad, huh?” you say, pushing his hair back from his forehead. Joshua stares hazily at you. “It shouldn’t be this terrible, though. It’s been raining for the past week.”

Joshua whines, flopping around on the bed like a child. “I don’t even know. But I keep—keep—ah—” He sneezes then, mid-sentence, covering his mouth with his hand, and then promptly reaches for a tissue to wipe his hand and his nose. “Keep sneezing.”

You hum, trying not to laugh aloud at his misfortune. You exchange amused grins with Jeonghan. Your boyfriend is the only person you know who gets hayfever, and what makes it worse is that it’s the most random hayfever you’ve ever seen.

He could take you for a date to a flower field in the middle of summer and not have his eyes water at all, but during one random week in the middle of autumn, he’ll be sneezing so hard that he could blow over a jenga tower.

That happened, once. It’s the only time you’ve ever seen Seungcheol genuinely cry with laughter.

“My poor darling Shua,” you coo, trying not to smile too hard at the memories whilst Joshua looks so pathetically sad next to you. His eyes are all puffed up, and he looks so miserable and it’s actually a little adorable.

“I know, your poor darling Shua,” Joshua says miserably, his words coming out all distorted due to his blocked nose. 

“Poor Jeonghan, too,” Jeonghan cuts in. “He called me over just so I could hold the tissue box for him.” He lightly bonks Joshua on the head with the tissues. “Meanie.”

“I’m the one actually dying here,” Joshua says, and wow, he really does sound ill. “I feel terrible. I feel like one of those hanahaki victims in those fics you keep sending me.”

“You can’t compare yourself to my hanahaki recommendations if you laughed at the fics for an entire five minutes after I send them to you,” Jeonghan says, stabbing a finger in Joshua’s direction.

“Well, they’re always totally unrealistic! And why are you even reading fanfiction about that sort of stuff?”

“Hey, they’re good stories!” Jeonghan says, holding his hands up defensively. It makes him lift the tissue box into the air just as Joshua was about to take one, prompting your boyfriend to whine as he stretches fruitlessly. “And the genre only ever comes up in fanfiction. I love hanahaki stories.”

“He loves reading about other people’s pain,” Joshua says in your direction, and he forcefully yanks Jeonghan’s arm downwards so he can take a tissue. Holding it up to his nose, his voice is muffled as he says, “That’s why he’s here right now. To laugh at my pain.”

“You brought me here to laugh at your pain.” Jeonghan hits him over the head with the tissue box once again.

“I brought you here to comfort me,” Joshua cries as loudly as he can, which isn’t very loud, because his voice is all croaky. “You’ve just been laughing at me the whole time!”

“Should have known that I would do that. How many years have we known each other, Shua? Do you really still not know your best friend at all?”

“Apparently not,” Joshua grumbles, sniffing. “Next time you’re sick, I’m going to destroy all the tissues in your house.”

You’re practically crying with laughter, listening to the two bickering, and this is something that is always the funniest to watch. Jeonghan and Joshua bounce off each other so well, both having equal sass and equal wit to be able to do this, though one might not think so when meeting them for the first time.

Joshua’s just always too busy holding up his gentleman image to properly rip into Jeonghan.

“Gonna destroy all your tissues and then ban you from ever buying any more,” Joshua is still threatening, poking at Jeonghan with his snot-covered tissue. “You little monster. I hate you.”

“You’re the one cursing at me?” Jeonghan says, incredulous. “How am I the monster here? Y/N! Do you think I’m the monster here?”

You’re giggling into your hand, trying not to be too loud, and when Jeonghan directs the question at you, you startle and let out another surprised laugh. “Um… I don’t know.”

“You have to side with me,” Joshua insists croakily at you, snatching the tissue box from Jeonghan so he can get his own tissues. “Y/N, please? I’m literally your boyfriend.” 

He smiles weakly at you, then, in an attempt to gain your favour, and even though his eyes are all red and his nose is still leaking you can’t help but think that he looks utterly, utterly adorable.

That’s not gonna stop you from messing with him, though.

You shake your head, smiling. “Yeah, but you ditched me on what was supposed to be our date today, so I don’t know if I should side with you.”

Joshua’s eyes widen as best as they can, betrayed, and Jeonghan cackles.

“You’re so mean,” Joshua mumbles, dabbing at his nose, and then kicks Jeonghan when the man won’t shut up. “Hey, stop laughing! It’s not that funny.” He looks at you again, and if possible, he looks even more miserable. “I can’t believe you’d betray me like that.”

That makes you laugh, and you reach over to pet his hair consolingly. “I’ll tell you what. You let me take care of you today, and I’ll agree with you that Jeonghan’s the one in the wrong here.”

Joshua blinks, like he’s processing your words, before nodding. “Deal.” He looks over at Jeonghan, and kicks him again. “You heard Y/N. Get out.”

“Excuse me?” Jeonghan gasps in mock offence as Joshua continues prodding him with his toes. “How dare you!”

“I’m not your boyfriend, so you don’t have to take care of me anymore,” Joshua said, and then he grinned up at you, all watery-eyed but still devastatingly adoring. “Y/N’s here now.” You smile down at him, and he seems to positively light up under your gaze.

And then he sneezes.

“Okay, okay, I’ll go,” Jeonghan says, as Joshua starts going through some sort of sneezing fit. “Goodness me, you’re even pulling out the sneezing attack in an attempt to get rid of me.”

You laugh, shuffling closer to your boyfriend and taking the tissue box from Jeonghan, handing Joshua tissue after tissue and helping him prop himself up so he doesn’t choke on his own gasps for air. “Sorry, Jeonghan, we just really want you gone.”

“I’ll remember this,” Jeonghan says, pretending to be all upset even as he practically lunges for the door. “I’ll remember this act of treachery!”

And then, with a neat click of the door, he’s gone.

The room becomes quieter, then, and Joshua’s sneezes die down into little sniffles. You place more pillows behind him, helping him sit up, patting his hair affectionately as he attempts to take in a deep breath. You weren’t joking when you said that you’d take care of him, and he seems to notice it, eyeing you over the tissues that he’s blowing his nose with.

“I’ve already taken antihistamines,” he says, as if preempting your question. “This is me all already drugged up.”

You chuckle, pinching his cheek. Taking the dirty tissues from him, you deposit them into the bin beside his bed. “Wow. Your hay fever is really bad today,” you say, and he snuggles into your side with a long-suffering sigh.

“Yeah. It really is.”

There’s silence for a moment, as Joshua miserably tries to breathe and you run your fingers through his hair.

And then Joshua sits up a little, looking at you.

“Sorry for not being able to take you out on that walk today,” he apologises, eyes big and wet and sincere. You just smile pinching his reddened cheek and pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

“I’m not actually mad. You know that, right?”

Joshua shrugs. “Still. I feel like I should say sorry.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” you say easily. “It’s the weather’s fault. It’s ‘cause of all that pollen that you’re in this state right now.”

“Hm. You’re right.” A grave look comes over him as he nods, eyes darting up to you. “Will you fight the weather for my honour, Y/N?”

That makes you laugh, surprised. “Your honour?”

“My honour is totally destroyed right now,” he says, dead serious. “Baby, I’ve been defeated by tiny little flower particles! I definitely think that you should fight for my honour.”

He’s being so serious about this that you can't help but laugh, leaning down to kiss his cheek even though he protests that he’s all sticky and disgusting right now. But it’s Joshua, so you peck him on the cheek anyway, and then kiss his hair.

“Sure,” you say, and when he looks at you again, your eyes sparkle brighter than a thousand suns. “I’ll fight Mother Nature for your honour, Shua.”

He beams. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.”

A beat.

“Quick question… how do you feel about going on walks in the rain from now on?”

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect @dokyeomkyeom @suraandsugar @haodore @tulsa24 @melodicrabbit

[drakaripykiros130ac]

It is beyond me what Green stans are doing in the “anti-hotd” tag when the entire shitshow is basically an extremely canon-deviated version which serves their delusions, as follows:

1. Alicent is such a poor, innocent, do-gooder peacemaker, and certainly did not abuse her step-daughter, nor seduced and married the King for power, nor plotted for years to usurp the throne.

2. Aegon is not a gluttonous, lazy pig. He is just misunderstood. He harasses women because his daddy doesn’t love him.

3. Aemond is not a psycho. No, definitely not. He does terrible things “accidentally” because he was “bullied” (that word justifies your every action throughout your adult life? Really?)

4. Helaena is not irrelevant. No, of course not. The canon lies. She was a dreamer. Wow…a dreamer…but still completely useless.

I thought this was a safe tag where people can actually discuss the problems with this show, not for people to rant their delusions on how the showrunners “hate” the Greens, when they’ve done nothing but sugarcoat everything they do.

Like, suddenly, the coup orchestrated by the Greens is not treason, and not a malicious act (according to Ryan Conman and Sara Less), even though GRRM rightfully portrays that it is. I can’t believe that there is even a debate on that.

[thevindicativevordan]

Superman 2025 Review

Once more we are at the beginning of a new shared DC cinematic Universe starting with Superman. Does Gunn succeed where Snyder failed in reintroducing the character for the modern era? Spoilers below!

Short version? I loved it! I give it an 8.5/10, meaning it's not my perfect ideal Superman movie despite my enjoyment. Gunn made some creative choices that I disagree with, but what carried me through those choices was the execution. Everything was tightly focused, nothing felt superfluous. If anything I wish this movie was longer!

Pros

Corenswet IS Superman. Or at least he is the actor equivalent for the modern Superman of the comics what Reeve was for the Pre-Crisis incarnation. He's equally as charming as Reeve just in a human way. He gets upset with his girlfriend, he gets baited by Luthor, he's heartbroken when the people turn on him, he takes a lot of physical beatings, but he keeps getting back up. He never gives up on people, even when he questions himself. But if you've been reading this blog you know I've shilled Wrath as Superman's fatal flaw, and this movie absolutely hammers home on that being the case. Plus beyond all that: he has a personality! He has hobbies! He has a taste in music (which Lois makes fun of him for because she thinks it sucks)! He snarks right back at Lois when she teases him! He taunts the bad guys and gets cocky while fighting them!

Brosnahan kills it as Lois. She is my favorite live action Lois, if for no other reason than she actually contributes to the plot. DCEU Lois was basically irrelevant in all of her movies, with Snyder reducing her to her womb. Not the case here, Lois hunts down leads, acquires evidence (with Jimmy's help), and while Superman is the one who saves the day, Lois is the one who put him behind bars. Yes I suppose DCEU Lois "technically" did that, but here Lois' evidence actually turns the public against Luthor whereas DCEU Lex moreso got taken down because he launched an ugly CGI troll into the city. Also the chemistry between Brosnahan and Corenswet is why I could never date an actor. I don't know how their spouses do it, those two are so horny together.

Skyler as Jimmy is great, and I thought his subplot was hilarious. Needed more scenes between him and Clark though. Man do I hope that Jimmy Olsen series that's rumored to be in the works happens.

Krypto rocks, he's the worst dog in the world but manages to still be lovable in spite of all that. Also him tag teaming Lex's forces at the end with Supes was peak.

Hoult is the perfect modern Lex. When he's with people he's trying to persuade to his POV, he plays the noble demon Lex of Azz perfectly. Voices all the high-minded concerns about Superman being a threat to humanity as usual. Meanwhile when he doesn't have to pretend, he lets the mask slip and shows he is the All-Star Lex. He hates Superman because Superman makes him feel inadequate and always gets in his way. There's also some DCAU Lex there with how he masterminds the invasion of another country simply to manufacture consent to kill Supes. And when he murders that poor man who committed no crime other than trying to help Superman after a fight, you really hated the son of a bitch.

Action here is amazing, it feels on par with Snyder MoS which is shocking. Yes there are a few goofy shots but anyone saying this is on the same tier as The Flash is delusional. Final fight scene between Supes and Ultraman is crazy as hell! Supes taking down all the Raptors felt like the equivalent to Arkham Batman dispatching thugs. I loved the part where he breaks his own arm in order to dispose of Ultraman at the end. Also guys, Superman SAVES PEOPLE, wow can you believe it, Superman actually trying to stop collateral damage and rescue people? Crazy!

Ok I have been on the record as a Dead Kents supporter. I still am - but damnit when Pa told Clark that it was his actions that defined him I damn near teared up. I don't know if Gunn was consciously inspired by that one page from Infinite Crisis, but that is immediately where my mind went. YES Superman is about ACTION, in fact I don't remember the word "hope" coming up at all thank God.

Love the Robots, love the Fortress, so happy we finally got a good version of the Fortress that isn't simply barren hallways or an empty igloo

While I still wish they hadn't been here, the Justice Gang rocked. Even with their limited screen time Gunn made me a fan of all of them including Metamorpho who had barely 15 minutes of focus. Mr. Terrific got the second coolest scene in the entire movie with the attack on Lex's camp. Fillion as Guy was damn near perfect casting, the other two Lanterns have their work cut out for them to match him.

Cons

The Els. Gunn made a big deal about this being an immigrant story, about how it would be Superman balancing his human and Kryptonian heritages. Well not really, it's more accurate to say this is a story about Superman rejecting his Kryptonian heritage in favor of his human upbringing. Jor and Lara are revealed to be shitty people who want Kal to rule over humanity and repopulate the Kryptonian race with a harem. Big emotional moment of the movie is thus Superman rejecting their dreams for him in favor of charting his own path. Now I like Superman to be entirely the creation of Clark Kent, no divine mandate from the Els or prompting from the Kents, but what am I supposed to take away from this message in the context of an immigrant story? "You too can be a real human bean as long as you reject your alien heritage?" Gunn mentioned Byrne as an influence and unfortunately, despite the Silver Age trappings, this is definitely a story that agrees with Byrne about where Superman's true loyalties should lie.

Side note but how funny is it that Waid scrubbed Jor-El clean of all moral flaws because he couldn't handle the slightest moral ambiguity right as Gunn makes him even more flawed than the comics incarnations? I know that reveal had him clenching in the theater haha.

We barely get anything from the Daily Planet crew outside of Lois and Jimmy. They're all great but there just isn't enough of them!

Ultraman is the most predictable “reveal” ever and I still don’t get why the hell Gunn went this route. Everyone knows it’s a clone, we can see it coming a mile away. Engineer was cool powers wise but should’ve just been Mercy Graves or Metallo.

A couple of jokes fall flat, and I wish Gunn had reigned in his humor a bit more. Specifically towards the end when Supes and Lex vent at each other, having Krypto toss Lex around like a rag doll just didn't land for me at all.

Outside of the revamped Williams theme, none of the music really stuck out for me. It looks like Murphy got quietly replaced by David Flemming, maybe Gunn didn't like what Murphy was doing and had to scramble at the last minute? Gunn should've gone with a better composer choice. Did like the choice for end credit theme!

This would've been a stronger movie with a tighter cast focused on Superman characters rather than all the extraneous people included for worldbuilding.

I think the best summary of my feelings is that DCU Superman is like MCU Spider-Man. Gunn made a ballsy, dramatic change to the foundation that is going to turn hardcore fanboys off, and as a hardcore fanboy I don't like it myself. But like with Holland Spidey, Corenswet Supes is great enough in other areas to win me over despite my qualms. This is a solid foundation to build on because the core of Superman is intact enough for me to embrace this guy as Superman, and I badly want to see more of him. Now it's on Gunn to keep building, and on the public to show up for this if they want more.

Speculation/Final Thoughts

Given how the nature of the Pocket Universe was very squarish, as seen with the growth/corruption, anyone else think this was an obvious set up for Ultraman to turn into Bizarro as a result of his imprisonment there? Assuming of course that's where the black hole dumps him out. Or I suppose it could lead to him ending up on Earth 3 as a twisted mirror to Kal. Kal rejects Jor's dreams for him, Bizarro fulfills them via conquering Earth 3 or whatever.

Ok while I don't want Zod for a second movie, the take on the Els here actually does make me kind of want him to show up. A Jor-El who shares Zod's Kryptonian supremacist views adds a hell of a lot more depth to the Zod/Jor friendship that leads into the Zod/Kal feud. What would it mean for Kal to fight a man who claims he's actually fulfilling what Jor would want Kal to do? It could actually beat Shannon's take for my favorite Zod.

Engineer never actually turned on Lex, that surprised me. I'm curious how an Authority movie would work with her given she is party to a lot of evil acts, and even though she's unhappy about the risk Lex takes with the pocket universe portal, she keeps attacking Supes until the end. Lex wanting to form "Planetwatch" did feel like a nod to how Stormwatch led into Authority.

Given Supergirl's cameo at the end, I really do think the sequel Gunn has teased will be an adaption of Johns Brainiac with her and Kal facing Brainiac down. Assuming it happens of course.

Internationally the presales/box office does not look great. This time at least WB has set manageable expectations with a $500 million return instead of the $1 billion they wanted for MoS. It should still easily make over that but Gunn needs to get cracking on the sequel then. If Superman can't surpass MoS, Supergirl won't and frankly none of the projects Gunn has coming up immediately are likely to entice big audiences to the box office. He needs to do another Superman movie to show the audience they won't give up, especially since the situation with Batman is complicated by Reeves.

[pookietv]

am i cool yet? | george clarke

thank you for all the love on my first post, appreciate it massively!!

have a little george clarke x singer because i love the thought of that loser (affectionate) with a very cool girl

liked by georgeclarkeey, arthurtv and 7,390 others

arthurnfhill: guess who is going back on artour!! (please come and don't let the tour flop)

georgeclarkeey: it would be quite funny if it flopped though

↳ arthurnfhill: so funny i am laughing so hard rn

user1: cannot waiiiiiit when do tickets drop!!!

↳ arthurnfhill: 10am next friday!

yourusername: hm that sounds cringe. wonder who will even bother showing up to that stinker.

↳ arthurnfhill: literally so cringe, wait until you hear about the support act, they suck so much, gonna be the worst show ever

↳ yourusername: i don't doubt it x

liked by arthurnfhill, georgeclarkeey and 3,904 others. tagged @/arthurnfhill

yourusername: good news, i am going on tour! bad news, it's with @/arthurnfhill (but on a serious note, tickets go on sale 10am friday, so if you wanna come by and hear us sing some little tunes please do!)

georgeclarkeey: jeez he said he had a stinker support act but i didn't know it was this bad (but of course i am kidding and you guys will smash it)

↳ yourusername: @/arthurnfhill is this the irrelevant flatmate you were telling me about??

↳ arthurnfhill: unfortunately, yes

↳ georgeclarkeey: @/yourusername ah, so my reputation proceeds me

liked by yourusername and 1,293 more tagged @/yourusername and @/arthurnfhill

arthurhillupdates: pictures that y/n put on her story from the first show of the tour tonight!!

userone: omg can't believe i missed the ticket drop, these two performing together ???

usertwo: they are literally both so hot i can't

userthree: i would kill to be backstage ngl

liked by georgeclarkeey, yourusername and 6,830 more tagged @/yourusername

arthurnfhill: artour night one in newcastle was very cool! a little disappointed that y/n looks cooler then me on stage but i will have to live with it

georgeclarkeey: to be fair i don't know what you were expecting, you don't look very cool anyway

↳ arthurnfhill: you can't be mean about things that are true

yourusername: if you need any stage coaching lmk

↳ arthurnfhill: rubbing a lot of salt into a fresh wound

↳ georgeclarkeey: @/yourusername i'd keep rubbing it if i were you

↳ yourusername: @/georgeclarkeey is that what you usually say to women?

↳ userone: she ate him up lmaooooo

arthurtv: can't wait for the london show so i can pester you live

↳ yourusername: couldn't have said it better myself, can't wait to pester you too

liked by arthurnfhill, georgeclarkeey and 3,473 more

yourusername: half way through the (ar)tour, thank you for all the support so far!! (+plus a little throwback from when i was just a girl making silly youtube covers)

bambinobecky: to say you look hot is an understatement

↳ yourusername: you're gonna make me blush x

arthurnfhill: wow that photo is great wonder who you pestered until they took the photo

↳ yourusername: got absolutely no clue, some random guy with a pedostache took it for me backstage

↳ arthurnfhill: crying in the mens bathrooms rn

↳ yourusername: you're getting awfully upset about the photo credits

↳ arthurnfhill: want to be able to put 'y/n's photographer' on my cv thats all

↳ yourusername: would be the only thing on there to be fair

gkbarry: jesus you're gorgeous, where's arthur been hiding you?

↳ yourusername: in the basement, says he's too famous to be my friend anymore :,(

arthurtv: don't tell him i told you but clarkey said you looked pretty in this photo

↳ yourusername: clarkey being too scared to comment on a girls instagram seems on brand to be honest

↳ georgeclarkeey: arthur you're a snitch and y/n you're mean

↳ yourusername: @/georgeclarkeey maybe but i wasn't wrong

liked by georgeclarkeey, arthurnfhill and 3,928 others

yourusername: london, you were amazing! the best night to end tour on, thank you all so much for coming to artour and supporting

arthurnfhill: thank you for supporting (even if you were very annoying)

↳ yourusername: is this seriously what you were typing when you were at the bar ??

↳ georgeclarkeey: can confirm, i saw him typing it

↳ user1: omg they're together?? clarkey and y/n meetup !!!

georgeclarkeey: was a very cool show, shame arthur had to come on and ruin it

↳ yourusername: for real, the audacity of this man to play at his own tour, smh

↳ georgeclarkeey: i couldn't agree more, should have just been the y/n show

liked by arthurtv, georgeclarkeey and 3,483 more tagged @/georgeclarkeey

yourusername: don't let george take you for a walk in london, he takes it as photoshoot opportunities and makes you take a million of him (proof referenced above)

arthurnfhill: you spend time with him once and complain, this is what i deal with all the time

↳ yourusername: i have never pitied you more

georgeclarkeey: who is that good looking man??

↳ yourusername: think you're mixed up, @/arthurtv isn't in this picture x

↳ georgeclarkeey: now thats just cruel, especially after i paid for dinner

↳ yourusername: poor you :(

liked by georgeclarkeey, arthurnfhill and 4,192 others

yourusername: i forced the boys to take me to the local pub just to get aquainted

arthurnfhill: we will never let you have sambuca shots again, you just became mean

↳ georgeclarkeey: she actually became nicer to me the more drunk she got

↳ yourusername: @/georgeclarkeey that's just because i was relying on you to look after me x

arthurtv: you are abnormally shit at pool

↳ yourusername: hey you weren't much better, hill carried you so badly

↳ arthurtv: says you who teamed up with george just to make him help you with all your turns

↳ yourusername: don't hate the player hate the game, not my fault george felt like being nice to me

↳ arthurtv: wonder why he's so nice to you

liked by arthurnfhill, georgeclarkeey and 5,289 more

yourusername: why not to leave men alone with your phone, a thread

georgeclarkeey: you have done us a little dirty with these photos

↳ yourusername: shouldn't have taken them on my phone then

↳ georgeclarkeey: don't lie you love it

chrismd10: third one is going in the wank bank

↳ yourusername: wish i could say the same

↳ georgeclarkeey: am i not wank bank worthy?

↳ yourusername: really think about what your life has come to commenting this on instagram

liked by yourusername, arthurnfhill and 7,839 others

georgeclarkeey: she tried to teach me how to play, am i cool yet?

yourusername: i think i speak for all of us when i say no x

↳ georgeclarkeey: at least i tried

↳ yourusername: tried being the operative word

arthurnfhill: can confirm, sounded like a cat dying

↳ georgeclarkeey: okay fine, you can stick to being my rockstar boyfriend

↳ arthurnfhill: okay pookie

maxbalegde: he came into the office and swore down he was a top ten artist

↳ yourusername: i mean if top ten is top ten worst he might actually be right x

liked by georgeclarkeey and 8,380 others

yourusername: my boyfriend is not very cool but he is hot and i love him all the same (turns out he has a thing for super cool awesome rock girls)

georgeclarkeey: i am not sure how to feel about this, you both violated me and complimented me

↳ yourusername: feel grateful i complimented you, was just going to violate you originally x

↳ georgeclarkeey: well when you put it that way, gosh i'm just so lucky

arthurnfhill: nice of george to wear a hat that labels all of his skills so quickly and easily

chrismd10: honestly thought world war three would come before george got a girlfriend

↳ yourusername: you and me both (he's holding me captive please help)

liked by yourusername, arthurtv and 8,296 more

georgeclarkeey: if i get a cool girlfriend, does that make me cool by proximity?

arthurtv: no

arthurfnhill: she is barely cool let alone you

chrismd10: in no universe are you cool

yourusername: good try george, but no x

↳ georgeclarkeey: i'll try again with my next girlfriend then x

↳ yourusername: took you this long to get one girlfriend i don't think that will be anytime soon x

↳ georgeclarkeey: kidding, i am not letting you leave (you are the only one who can tolerate me)

hope you enjoyed !! :)

[bluiela]

Ah yes, just as Gwyn Week begins — the same tired, predictable pattern repeats. The very people who spend 80% of their time filling their tag with anti-Gwyn nonsense are suddenly so invested in what happens during her week. The people who claim they “don’t care” about Gwyn are somehow chronically online, lurking in her event, foaming at the mouth every time someone celebrates her.

Curious behavior for people who insist she’s “irrelevant.”

I think the other side is jealous of how much better and fun it is (because the other alternative is them not understand basic common sense metaphors that a 2nd grader can understand and that's why they are whining about Gwyn week metaphors and that's honestly...wow..people are...just plain stupid ig)

So here’s a friendly reminder:Gwyn Week is for the people who love and appreciate Gwyneth Berdara.

It’s not your playground to cry in because canon didn’t go the way your Pinterest board told you it would. If you’re not here to enjoy or celebrate — then why are you here?

Seriously, take that energy and redirect it. Maybe go outside. Touch some grass. Apply for a job. Open a book without crying about Gwyn being in the same universe as Azriel. I don’t know.

Just some suggestions.Because the rest of us? We’re here for the joy.

We’re here for the art, the edits, the fics, the character growth, and the celebration of a girl who earned her spotlight.

Gwyn Week is the best thing ever.

So either sit down and be quiet — or go scream into the void where your “flower = Elain = fate-mate” theories belong. 🫶✨

[ace-disgrace-from-space]

Literally my first post in the CB tag, so: hello, hi, nice to formally meet you all. I don't post but trust me I DO lurk in this tag. Doing this post so I can share my deteriorating thoughts but also so that in five weeks when I've forgotten everything I can see if I was right or not and whether I've earned a treat. Fair warning: I only know how to write essays. Big long theses. My bad. Whoops. All of this is PURE THEORIZING. I have no idea what truly happens, all information I gather is from the free episode(s) or what's posted here. I am simply taking shots in the dark for fun. Please don't yell at me. only saying this cause I normally post in communities where everyone has the same information but you all seem very nice so I'm not really worried about it :]

OKAY! SO! As a very normal human being with very normal interest in this silly comic, I scroll through the tag and see what you goobers post (because you're all very funny, talented, and entertaining) and I noticed that this week's fast pass episode has people in emotions. Very MUCH in emotions. I also noticed someone mention parallels to this week's free episode- which I spent way too long agonizing over but that's IRRELEVANT -and so my brain got to thinking. I could just satisfy my curiosity by using money but the way my anxiety will just beat me up for that is crazy. So, instead of that, I've decided that it's time to rabidly theorize about what happens for giggles. Basing my thoughts on the idea of this week's episodes having parallels, I have a few different thoughts.

All of my ideas are parallels of things that happened in the dungeon in the free episode since that has the most content to parallel and was the most prevalent part of the episode. With that in mind, here we go and apologies in advance.

Idea Number One: My first idea is that maybe there's a parallel to the scene where Buddy saves Chase from the creepy guard. Perhaps there's a similar situation to what happened in the free episode or- an idea I'm more partial to -within this book there's a person, place, or scene that reminds Buddy of Ex-Libris which causes him to have some sort of panic attack or a clearly afraid reaction. He's placed in a situation where he's reminded of something from EL that he is afraid of or has bad memories of. Something that Chase has to pull him away or calm him down from, but something that Chase has to save him from. Like how Buddy saved him this week.

Idea Number Two: This idea is based on the statement about ulterior motives and hiding things that Buddy made to Chase- who we all know is hiding something. In this idea, maybe Buddy finally finds out about Prunella and isn't pleased with Chase's lying to him and hiding things. They aren't besties but there's a thin line of trust between them that Chase potentially breaks by hiding Prunella. A person Buddy thought was honest and open suddenly hid something from him, so who's to say he's not hiding more? So, the actual IDEA is that maybe Buddy parallels the statement he makes, but this time in a more hurt tone or accusatory. Instead of apologizing and admitting "you can't have ulterior motives and you're pretty honest", he goes the opposite direction of "I was wrong, you're a liar and blah blah blah" (sorry didn't wanna write more lmao). Still, for a parallel, the statements would likely have to be similar in structure and in nature, and a line that has been living RENT-FREE in my head since this morning is: "I was too dumb to think you didn't have ulterior motives. Too dumb to see that you were hiding something." Or something to that effect. Paralleling that previous statement.

Idea Number Three: This idea I'm less sold on but screw it, throwing it in for giggles because I can and that's one more idea I have lying around. This one is based more on the situation between Chase and Buddy (Buddy being like "wow! thanks for not hiding things" to Chase "definitely hiding a whole ass child" Hollow). A simple switch of roles is what my third thought is. Chase takes Buddy's role of "Wow, so honest" and Buddy takes Chase's role of "Hiding things". The reason I don't like this one as much and I'm not as convinced is because for it to have as much emotion as the Fast Pass episode clearly had, there has to be some sort of emotional investment to whatever the thing was. And for there to be emotional investment, we would likely have to know what exactly Buddy would be hiding from Chase in this potential scenario. As of right now, we have nothing of the sort since getting that kind of information would require a Buddy POV episode which I don't think we're getting any time super soon? So, unless we suddenly find out things in the next four weeks, I doubt it's going to be something like this.

OKAY, I'M DONE NOW I SWEAR! I am so sorry for how long and unnecessary this post was (whoops) but I need to scream somewhere! I'll revisit this in five weeks I suppose to see if I'm right or not and if I've earned my little treat (reward yourselves for things man. self-love). I'll still be lurking, as always, but I guess I'll see y'all formally once again in like five weeks. Have a lovely day! :]

[hrtsdevils]

dancing like we’re twenty-two! | jh86

summary: reader’s 22nd birthday instagram bash!

pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader

a/n in honor of my own birthday yesterday… we love a good yn jacky moment. the photos i used for the reader are asian girls because i am!!! and i do what i want!! it’s my birthweek… readers nickname is also nana because my friends call me that and i do what i want!!!!!

yourusername

liked by jackhughes, trevorzegras, yourbff, _quinnhughes and 8279 others

yourusername the 22nd year of ME!!! is upon us, feel free to celebrate however you see fit..

us personally? we got blackout drubk and ate a shit ton of cake!! ☺️❤️ thanks for celebrating!!!!

tagged jackhughes, yourbff, stellabakescakes, trevorzegras

view all 628 replies…

jackhughes happy birthday, pretty girl! i love you so much and i’m so glad i got to spend today with you! here’s to 22,000,000 more, my immortal girl ❤️❤️

yourusername @/jackhughes wow… you wanna make me cry huh… we’re beefing.

jackhughes @/yourusername how!? i just wished you happy birthday and i brought you a blueberry bagel this morning.

yourusername @/jackhughes okay we’re only half beefing.

user027 first non white wag (ever)

trevorzegras @/colecaufield I MADE THE POST AND YOU DIDNT HA!!! she likes me more than you. HAPPY FUCKING BIRTHDAY NANA

yourusername @/trevorzegras stop bragging or i’m deleting the pic of you.

colecaufield @/trevorzegras i hate you. and @/yourusername how could you…

yourusername @/colecaufield IM SORRY COLEY

yourbff @/colecaufield @/trevorzegras she likes me most anyway you’re # irrelevant!

yourbff HAPPY BIRTHDAY SEXY MAMASSSS

yourbff forget jack let’s kiss!!!!

jackhughes @/yourbff bitch wtf

yourusername @/yourbff OKAY MOMMY ☺️🩷

jackhughes @/yourusername WHAT THE HELL..

elblue06 happy birthday! glad you all had fun 🙃

yourusername @/elblue06 thank you!!! love you queen el ❤️❤️❤️

user47 AHHH her and jack are adorable i cry

user83 SHES A SWIFTIE NO ONE MOVE

lhughes_06 happy birthday you’re my favorite sibling 😶‍🌫️

_quinnhughes @/lhughes_06 she’s my favorite too!

jackhughes @/lhughes_06 @/_quinnhughes i hate you both.

yourusername @/jackhughes sorry they like me like 🤣👩🏻

jackhughes @/yourusername you’re lucky its your birthday nan

user23 anti jack club!

stellabakescakes i’m so glad you liked the cake! happy birthday!

yourusername @/stellabakescakes thanks queen!!!

_quinnhughes HBD 🥳

dawson1417 Happy bday nana! hope jacks not hung over by tomorrows game 🙏

yourusername @/dawson1417 i’m working on it!!!!!!

jackhughes after all this hate i’m starting to doubt your immortality.

[lemoncholy-stars]

the artstyle is adorable ajkfdshgd!!!!

tagging uh @niff-of-crows, @arsonistcryptid, @discoidal, @cream-and-tea, @saltwaterbells, @literary-slut + whoever else wants to join!! [also if yall have been tagged before im sorry lmao]

tagged by @carrieway to make myself in this picrew thank you for tagging me friend !!

my hair isn't this orange but this is as in between blonde/brown the picrew will let me be. this is 100% what i look like aside from the hair color even the outfit is in my closet

tagging (no pressure)

@piss-shark-official @starchild0985 @dilf-din @swiftermidnights @grace4867 @firefly464

[serendipnpipity]

My name’s Phil Lester thankfully not Mo It’s finally time to make my diss track yo You thought I was too innocent to roast myself? Well watch out bitch This might be bad for your health

A Youtube dinosaur His channel older than your mum He’s so insanely clumsy Always falling on his bum Some people think he’s weird Cause he doesn’t like cheeses He’s so frickin' pale You’d think the sun gave him diseases

His name’s AmazingPhil (What?) Why’s he so great? (Dunno) For ten years he had hair From 2008 All that time Hiding behind a fringe And on top of all that He’s secretly a ginge

You quiffed it up What is this a rebrand? If you didn’t dye it black You’d be totally bland And innocent whatever Wait till you're in private Your mouth’s so dirty You sound like a pirate

Hey you say you’re an angel You know that’s a lie You just don’t want to get Demonetised Your vids are so sweet You can’t even say crap I bet you’d even censor A swear in this rap

You look like a badly photoshopped Benedict Cumberbatch And I realize nothing rhymes with Cumberbatch So I guess this verse doesn’t rhyme

(Okay, this is terrible, I'm out, bye)

I’d better get going And end the bants I murdered this beat Like I murder houseplants If you can’t keep a cactus Why’d you want a dog? I’d give it three weeks Until the funeral vlog

Don’t get me started on that guy called Dan The only reason I’m here is people ship phan More followers than me I’m living in his shadow Next thing you’ll know He’ll be playing the piano

EMMMMMMMM YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHH

okok lemme see if i can do dan's without looking now:

a month without uploading, he comes back with a tag that no one even tagged him in, he's not a challenge to drag so prepare for an attack (and by that I mean cringe) cuz this mfer's boutta get DRAGGED BY HIS FRINGE

first things first, you're freakishly tall it's weird, you look like a noodle you've got hair that was cool in 2007 and wet you just look like a poodle just throw in an annoying posh voice and... yup, that's dan! you're what would happen if winnie the pooh f*cked slenderman!

you procrastinate making videos 'cause being judged is scary you're so close to being irrelevant the hate's imaginary! the only reason you get views is you're another white guy that people ship with his friend 'cuz they think it's ~kawaii~!!

reasons why dan's a fail---YAY!

you never tweet, you overeat, all you do is cry and sleep, your jokes are shitposts and memes with no originality, your family's sad you dropped your law degree at university, and anything embarrasing about yourself you just delete. you were a vegan for what, three weeks before you missed the meat? wow, i'm so impressed by your clear moral integrity. try so hard to be peaceful and diplomatic but can't make toast without tumblr saying you're problematic

*deep inhale* I could go on, there's more if I check. there's more things on this list... than chins on your neck!

your celebrity crush was JLaw, but now it's Evan P, what the fuck even is your sexuality? it's hard to put you in a box when you keep it so blurry, i think it's just to hide that you're secretly a FURRY.

woah now, that went deep. repress it? yup! before I start crying, let's wrap this shit up.

i'm gonna go and masturbate, then cry into a slice of pizza, shoutout to the other youtubers, especially Ryan Higa a cringe compilation mixed with cultural appropriation met with no depreciation, it's the youtube nation.

click SUBSCRIBE if you wanna watch 4 videos a year (ha) to see my last one (from ten years ago) just click over here something something, you can call me a liar 'cause you just witnessed the roast of danisnotonfire

[explosion noises]

[geyfrog]

I don’t like a type of post. It is the type of post where somebody sees some kind of random irrelevant text in the wild and makes a joke like “wow this is just like the kind of specific online guy I hate”. Like say you take the “my source is that I made it the fuck up” moodboard and tag it “(whatever Bad Queer Identity) supporters explaining themselves”. That kind of post.

I dislike this kind of post because it implies its poster spends an inordinate amount of time thinking about how much they hate this type of niche online guy and that feels unpleasant to me. Like it tells a story and conjures a picture, and that picturestory is of somebody who is unhappy for no reason all the time. Feels like somebody who’s been pocketed by Big Anger.

If you’re just making isolated posts about hating an online type of guy (such as this one I am presently writing), that post was likely triggered bt seeing that type of online guy, fair enough, it’s an emotional reaction to being exposed something you don’t like. But if your post was triggered by seeing random text, that means that you are thinking about online guy even when you’re not looking at them, even when you’re looking at some funny text or meme, and so your hatred is conpletely detached from the volume of actually dealing with these people. And these people are niche online guys who you can remove from your sight very easily by not going where they are! So you’re making your life substantially more miserable by mot just smiting them from your sight and mind! Stop making yourself angry on purpose

[abnomi]

HI IM WYATT!! 🫧🧼🐡

im like if a fish was a guy and it and yeah

I'm nonbinary and a fan of soap. My personality develops at a normal human rate as well as my human mind. I'm a normal human age with a normal human life.

i like drawing! ✏️ check out #my art! 🎨 in the tags to see

i won't post explicit NSFW (anything graphically sexual in nature or anything with extreme gore), but beyond that one rule, i do not limit what kinds of topics i post about on here. i will trigger tag the generally sensitive ones, however!

i do not engage in discourse and i go out of my way to avoid it. this also goes for any mean-spirited kind of content! let's be nice to each other.

i don't recommend following me for one specific thing because i post whatever i want whenever i want to. im not an art account or fandom account im sorry!!! feel free to follow me for those anyway but dongt get mad at meeeee

i have heavy general anxiety, so please be patient with me! i tend to respond slowly and get overwhelmed extremely easily; not to say anyone owes me constant coddling or anything ofc!! i just think it's worth mentioning in case i start acting erratic or something HAHA. the more you know! 🪱 brain problems galore

feel free to talk to me either thru my askbox or messages! i love meeting new people and talking to my friends despite how anxiety may influence my behavior to indicate otherwise! i just need time. a lot and a lot of time.

my grammar sometimes is Bad because my brains is Goo Sorry... i struggle with wording things coherently :---( if i say something that comes off the wrong way, i apologize in advance! i am still learning

im a rampant lifelong selfshipper. been in the loving game for quite some time now. if you are an off-putting fictional character, youd best hope you dont cross paths with me.

OC x canon is one of my primary interests; i will probably post about it more often than not on here! if you have a common interest with a character i like, I'm more than okay with sharing! love for everyone Yay !! 🌞🌞🌈

I'm working on a fansite for character shrines but ummm its taking a while

"What does this silly fuck even do?"

Dont fucking talk to me like that. I draw sometimes and try very hard to make art! Unfortunately, the brain I'm using is kind of stupid and broken and it doesn't do what I tell it to do. Working on getting a new one, but it's just not going according to plan.

As for what kind art I tend to make, I'm very experimental with my work! Expecting consistency from me is a bad idea. I get bored of the same ideas quickly and bounce around a ton. I LOOOVE character design and character writing in particular!! i have so many stories and concepts, you have no idea. Anything character/story-oriented is a major favorite subject of mine.

I'm hoping to get around to game development, web design, animation, music production, 3d stuff, and more! Just need to kind of kick myself to the finish line u know

"Wow what concepts do you have in mind"

too many and theyre all unfinished, but I'm planning on making a webcomic! I ambitiously wanted (and still do want) to take on several massive projects that I'm not able to accomplish in my current state, so I thought a comic i can create on my own time would be much easier and a good way to start the road to self discipline... we will see how that goes.

I'd go in depth explaining all of my stories and characters but it sounds like a bad idea to put those here. I'll make a website compiling all of the information about them eventually i promiiiisee

"What do you like"

My interests fluctuate so often that i generally can't fully pin one down as if it's consistently present.

There's hardly any pattern in what I gravitate towards, other than the single qualifier of whether the piece of work contains a token character for me to latch onto who is outwardly antagonistic and/or bitter towards everyone in the cast. Everything else is mostly irrelevant in quantifying how much i will enjoy a thing. this isn't an end all be all, though!! its less of a rule and more of a pattern.

"Did you hear about how they're sending frozen ants to mars just to see what will happen? Just letting them defrost there and crawl around, an isolated ant society. I don't know who's behind this. I heard it from a friend, but I don't think I believe them, because who would do that and why?"

It was me. I was the one sending them. Watch your back. Don't ask this again

"My head hurts."

My head heuts too

"also can i kill you and your family"

Sure