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monster-energies · 2 years

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you, me and these neon lights

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pairing: lionel shabandar/reader

summary: after finishing your studies, you obtain the role of personal assistant to the greatest businessmen in the world, lionel shabandar. as the months progress, you reveal some truths to him at one of his gala events but perhaps the shabandar man is more kinder and maybe...more romantic than he perceives to be.

warnings: theres none to be aware of but there is obviously lionel shabandar being naked whilst staring at art, but no smut is implied/taken action

rating: teen and up audiences

word count: 6422

author’s note: the title’s namesake is lyrics from the song no control by kennie j.d, i would highly recommend listening to it whilst reading it....for the vibes

i've been on a sporadic alan rickman marathon and so, i watched gambit ( 2012 ),, its a movie...its a comedy and you're getting what you're given. alan rickman was the many saving graces of this movie tbh,,,idk how they managed to get such an iconic cast and remake an iconic movie but make it so boring ??? uhh anyways theres my review,, now lets talk about this oneshot. the moment i watched the movie, i knew i had to make a oneshot for this sugar daddy that is lionel shabandar. i said to one of my close friends that and i quote: "he could pay for my university tuition and i'd give him my entire life." also only two people have written a oneshot for lionel shabandar so i thought,,,hey why not be the third. lionel shabandar supremacy in this house !

i've been thinking about writing another part to this oneshot, i feel like there's more to give with this but idk yet,,, let me know what if y'all would like that

this oneshot can be found on archive of our own

i hope you enjoy reading, comments and feedback is much appreciated

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“come on, you’re killing me with the suspense! just send it already!” your roommate rowan edged you further.

“i just want to make sure it’s perfect and send them this resume and not that die hard fanfiction from 11th grade!” you said, throwing a cushion at rowan.

you were reaching the end of your doctorate’s degree in london. you knew that art was the right place for you, you tried everything in your life but there was nothing more than reaching for that paintbrush and unleashing your thoughts and fantasies onto a canvas.

you studied at oxford for most of your life, having done your undergraduates and masters in fine art it was inevitable that you wanted to release your thoughts on a lot of things. however, oxford university didn’t offer what you desired for the time being so moving to london seemed like the best choice there.

undoubtedly your phd was the most difficult thing you experienced and the debt that you put yourself in was something you couldn’t describe.

perhaps this could be the job that could take away your miseries.

you knew of the shabandar company in passing. they were particularly strict with who they would take on in their company.

it was no doubt that it was a rough business out there, art auctioning would be something you didn’t think about but the moment that you saw how much money an original van gogh would be sold for, you were in absolute dismay.

the company hadn’t opened up any vacancies and left you quite agitated, clearly they weren’t taking any average joes around.

the second that they opened up a vacancy for a personal assistant to the biggest multi-billionaire in the industry… lionel shabandar. you knew his name, it was pretty much everywhere. every waterstones you went past you could always find a copy of his book “me” somewhere on the front shelves. everyone in the world knew his name.

you were quick to write up your resume and answer the questions attached to the application. you were proof reading your work for the last time before sending it off.

you clicked the send button and finally you sighed heavily.

“finally! i was beginning to think that you weren’t going to send it off.” rowan said.

then you heard a notification sound from your laptop.

“i wasn’t expecting a reply that quick!” you said. turning to your emails, you opened the recent one that came right in.

dear y/n l/n,

you have currently emailed during out of office hours.

if you need an immediate response, please contact eleanor meyer at [email protected]

otherwise, your email will be responded to as soon as possible.

thank you for your message

“are we kidding me? you frightened me with an automated email.” rowan groaned out.

“the worst fear there is.” you said whacking her with another cushion as you looked up at the application you had just sent.

you actually took this time to calculate how much you owed to oxford university in those 4 years and to the university college of london for your phd.

£9250 x 3 = £27,750

£27,750 + £14,140 = £41,890

22,040 x 3 = £66,120

£41,890 + £66,120 = £108,010

one hundred and eight thousand and ten pounds.

you looked at the calculations, slumping onto your sofa and screaming into the voids of your cushion. rowan looked over at the calculations and her eyes widened at the sight.

she knew you were very much focussed on your education, but not only to this degree but that number was enough to break your bank account into tiny shreds.

“y/n you’ve got nothing to worry about. besides your debt will go in 35 years.” she said.

“35 years…i’ll be 46 by then and i’ll be stuck behind a waitrose till, scanning overly expensive macaroons by then!” you snapped.

you didn’t realize the look at rowan had, you relaxed your shoulders for a moment and sunk deeper into the sofa.

“sorry, i didn’t mean to snap like that.” you mumbled.

rowan only patted your shoulder, she understood that this phd was make it or break it for you and knowing you’d be in the last hurdle meant that you had to give it every chance you had.

“tell you what, how about we order a pizza and we watch a movie. surely that will ease your mind from your financial state, tonight’s on me alright?” rowan offered, you smiled kindly at your roommate handing her the phone.

“you took the words right out of my mouth.” you said, laughing softly as you put your calculator away and your let yourself unwind from your already hectic week.

this job had better be worth every minute of your life.

꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

“thank you for handing in your thesis. and thank you for being apart of the art department here at ucl, you can have a look at some of our alumni programmes if you wish to come back. you’ll hear back on your thesis grade and your graduation will be emailed to you in due course. i wish you well on your career.” your personal tutor said to you, your bounded thesis at their grasp.

you clung onto your photocopied version of your thesis as you gave a kind smile to your tutor.

“thank you…i’ll see you around.” you said, kindly smiling at them before walking off. you arrived back home and saw rowan who had just finished a yoga workout.

“how did it go?” she asked.

“the thesis has been handed in. i’m finally done with my education!” you said. rowan hugged you more times than you could count.

“i knew you could do it! i bet that thesis will make headlines.” she said.

“i think the most it will get is at least an honorary mention on the guardian but hey, anything could happen.” you admitted.

you turned to your laptop, picking it up and opening it in front of you. you heard a notification from your email, which made you confused for a moment.

you looked at the first email in front of you. clicking it, you read through and your face instantly changed to a beam, bigger than before.

dear y/n l/n,

we are pleased to inform you that you will be offered an interview for your position as personal assistant.

your interview with lionel shabandar will begin at precisely 4:30pm, should you arrive any later than this and you will not be interviewed. please arrive dressed in formal attire. no trainers, pyjamas unless stated otherwise.

if you’ve been asked to provide a portfolio and/or references of your work please do so before your interview.

we look forward to seeing you.

signed

the shabandar association

you were jumping with joy, knowing that your application was at least successful. rowan was more than happy for you, you both celebrated in usual fashion. rowan grabbed the champagne and treated you to some of her homemade lasagne and you both sat in together.

꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

the day of the interview had loomed quicker than ever. you looked over to your wardrobe picking out a ruffled shirt, you did did every button and put on a pencil skirt as you looked into the mirror, your hair slicked back into a low bun. it wasn’t foreign of you to dress this formally, you had done so in your oxford days and you never entirely found your sense of style until you reached your doctorates arc of your education.

you looked at the large plastic folder that carried your portfolio and your bag that contained every essay and every dissertation you had done, you also put your thesis inside and grabbed both things before heading to the door.

“you’ll do great y/n. good luck!” rowan said. you thanked your roommate and eventually grabbed your things before leaving to get to the cooperate building.

the london underground’s services had ran very smoothly on your way to the building. when you arrived, you looked up at the building, almost as tall as some of the famous landmarks.

you entered the building, you read that you were to meet in his office which just so happened to be on the top floor.

“hi i’m here for my interview with mister shabandar.” you said, attempting not to stumble on your words.

“you’re miss l/n i assume.” the lady at the front desk asked. sally was her name.

“yes, that’s me.” you answered.

“do you know what time you’re supposed to be here?”

“uhm…yes. 4:30 was the time given to me.”

“you’re 2 hours early.”

“i know, i just hate being late to anything. you should probably see the amount of certificates i’ve gained just for my attendance and punctuality.”

the front desk lady, sally raised her brow and sent out a quick email, notifying of your prescience.

“please take a seat, mister shabandar will see you soon. please take a seat.” sally said.

you nodded, approaching the leather sofa and placing your things onto the ground. you crossed your legs as you looked at the view that bestowed upon you.

london during the in-between period of spring and summer was quite satisfying to you. it wasn’t freezing and it wasn’t boiling. it was almost like room temperature, and that seemed fine enough for you.

you looked down at the coffee table and picked up a copy of a book nearby. it was obviously his autobiography, “me.”

at first you thought reading this would be nothing short of a joke 10 pages in but you ended up flicking another page, and another, and another…and another.

by the time it reached 4:15 you were almost halfway finished. you looked up at the time and panicked slightly. adjusting your hair, and making sure everything was in place.

you brought your bag to your back and clung onto your portfolio, you were unaware that by your portfolio was also a copy of his book in your grasp.

“mister shabandar will be seeing you now.” sally said. you gave a kind smile to the front desk lady as you were greeted by the multi-billionaire.

“miss l/n, how lovely of you to make it.” lionel looked up, he got up from his seat and stood in front of you.

“thank you, it was a swift journey here. no doubt its really easy to make it around london.” you said.

“may i take your things, i wouldn’t want anything weighing you down during this interview.” he offered.

“oh uh of course.” you said, handing him your portfolio as you took of your bag and placing it to one side.

lionel gestured you to the chair opposite his desk and you shyly smiled at him before taking a seat.

“you’ve read my book?” he asked.

“oh, yes…i got here quite early so i at least did a spot of light reading before this interview.” you answered.

“are you enjoying it?” lionel asked

“in all honesty it’s a good read.” you answered, you couldn’t lie. reading his autobiography was quite interesting, you couldn’t help but think of how much his life was like a tv show.

he had flicked a few pages of his notebook and turned to his questions.

“so…miss l/n, you know me as you have read…why don’t you tell me about yourself.” he said.

“alright…uh where do i begin, well i’ve recently finished education.” you began.

“at your age?” lionel asked.

“yes, i studied fine arts at the university of oxford for my undergraduate and masters degree, i moved to london 3 years ago to do my phd at ucl, i actually finished my phd a few days ago.” you answered.

“oxford, a difficult place to get in.”

“well, the arts are in desparate need, much to my surprise it had a high acceptance rate. or rather what’s a high acceptance rate to them.” you said.

“have you always loved art?” he asked.

“yes, its just been a massive part of me. i’ve tried everything since i was a kid, but nothing thrills me more than picking up a paint palette and putting everything you worked for on a blank canvas.” you answered.

“there isn’t anything wrong with a blank canvas is there…miss l/n?” lionel asked.

“uh, i don’t think there’s anything wrong with a blank canvas. i think a blank canvas can also say a lot too.” you answered.

you peered over and you noticed that he was taking notes from this interview. you quickly turned back to him when both of your eyes met one another.

“do you parents enjoy your artwork?” lionel asked.

“oh…they’re not really in my life as such, i don’t really want to speak of it.” you replied. your eyes laying on the hem of your sleeves, fiddling around with the threading of the blazer.

lionel easily could sense your discomfort upon mentioning your family, he put the pen down and didn’t keep his eyes off you.

“you have my apologies for mentioning such a distasteful topic.”

“it’s okay, i was better off without them.” you admitted.

you took a deep breath to yourself and looked up at the multi-billionaire. his look of concern instantly going away as he continued with his interview.

“what’s your home life like?” lionel asked.

“i don’t live too far from here. i live near warren street, with a roommate from university.” you asked.

lionel nodded.

“not many people would apply for the role as a personal assistant, i’m shocked that a meek graduate such as yourself would apply to not only work for me but to work alongside me…besides the point, why do you want to work for me?” lionel asked.

you knew that you couldn’t tell him the entire truth but it would eventually come out anyways.

the truth being that you were dangerously in debt. you thought about how you owed one hundred and eight thousand pounds to both oxford and ucl again, made your bank account sob out in turmoil.

you simply answered that you wanted to take a risk. you knew that they didn’t offer vacancies and they definitely didn’t offer anything for graduate students, you wanted something out of your comfort zone and whilst the shabandar company had dealt with pieces of art and you wanted to enhance your skills.

when asked about your strengths and weaknesses you responded with that you were a very dedicated and committed person, you always put your efforts into the things that mattered and you were a very creative thinker, that answer seemed to get an eyebrow raise from him. whether he approved of it or not was beyond you.

when asked about your weaknesses, you admitted that you were very easily stressed and didn’t fare well under pressure. you admitted that you would often overwork yourself to which, it would cause mild and (if push came to shove) intense burnout.

lionel had been quick to assure you that all staff are given a lot of resources in the case they needed any support for any given circumstance. lionel was well aware he had this narcissistic and foreboding reputation, but anyone that was taken into his company would be taken care of with whatever they needed.

“what has been your greatest achievement?” he asked.

“i couldn’t choose only one achievement, so i accumulated a portfolio and i have a collection of dissertations and theses over the course of my education. if you would like to see it of course.” you said.

“lead the way miss l/n.” lionel answered.

you got up and grabbed your portfolio and took out your papers from your bag. you went to the table before you and put out your papers in front, your hands trembling before you but you quickly finished and looked to the billionaire with a hint of eagerness.

“as you can see, this is all the practical work i had done for all my education, and down here i have all of my notable dissertations from each final year…you don’t have to read them if it will take up too much of your time-”

“i do know how to do my job miss l/n and if it takes me all day to go through your portfolio then i shall.” lionel cut you off, rolling his eyes slightly at how scared you were.

he had seen a lot of you in other eager workers but all of them seemed to quit their job in tears, but you stood your ground which was what took him back a little.

lionel took a good look at your portfolio, but his eyes couldn’t help but shift to one of your photos in particular.

“i have this piece.” lionel said.

“you do? oh you have pieces of battersea.” you quipped up with surprise.

“its good to see the artist.” he said, which made you smile to yourself.

“do you know how much that piece of work was auctioned off?” lionel asked.

you shook your head.

“twenty five million dollars.”

you were in disbelief, how could a student piece like yours garner so much worth and value? you never saw your pieces to be of any worth but knowing that your work had been auctioned off to the richest people known to man was information you wouldn’t forget.

“pretty valuable don’t you think?”

you only nodded, a sheepish smile wavered across your face.

his attention slowly shifted to the many dissertations that were presented before him. his brows slowly raised, if that was how much work you produced for your education, just think of how much you could for his company.

lionel flicked through every page of your work, a sense of eagerness rushed to him but there a subtlety to it. you couldn’t make out what or how he was feeling and it made you more unsure than ever.

“interesting…so your interests lie in its history but yet you’d be willing to take a risk in auctioning off some of the finest of works?” he said.

“yes sir.” you answered.

lionel looked up and flashed one of his famous smiles, you smiled back of course as a symbol of kindness.

“come, have a seat.” lionel said gesturing you to the sofa behind you, you followed him and sat beside him.

“now, you are aware that you’ve applied for the role of my personal assistant yes?” he asked.

“i am very aware, i did read your policies.” you answered.

“judging by your experience and this interview, you have potential…well, a little naïve but i’m sure you’ll see through that.” lionel said.

you perked a small smile at his remarks, “thank you…i appreciate that.” you admit.

“you’re only…what the kids say, fresh off the boat. you have your work cut out.” lionel said.

you turned away from him, ready to embrace rejection in all its forms.

“however…i don’t think i’ve seen anything like you, so...i will be offering you the position as my personal assistant.” lionel announced.

you looked to him in disbelief, then the smile that was on your face grew large. “thank you sir! i really look forward to working with you.” you beamed, as he extended his arm you then took it and shook his hand, his touch was firm as you shook it.

he got up and opened his filing cabinet, reaching for some papers. placing it between the two of you, you were handed a pen and what seemed to be some contracts. you were quick to read through each and every paper and signing it in the places where necessary.

once the formalities were over and done with, lionel helped you pack your things away, he also handed you a copy of his schedule. you placed it neatly in your bag, and found yourself exiting with your things in your hand.

“take a good look at the papers i’ve sent, you’ll need them.” he said, opening the door for you as he walked you to the entrance of the lift.

“thank you, so when do i start?” you asked.

“tomorrow.” he put it bluntly, it was like you expected him to say that but also not to at the same time.

either way, you had to get ready for whatever this man threw at you.

“right, i look forward to working with you then mister shabandar.” you said giving a kind smile.

“call me lionel. it should be a privilege that we be on first name basis, now that we’re working together.” he said.

“call me y/n.”

“a beautiful name.”

“thank you, i’ll see you tomorrow.” you said, entering the lift.

the doors closing on you both as the lift went down.

you couldn’t help but have a skip in your step, knowing this job could possibly change your life was something that made you beam.

when you told your roommate that you got the job, she was jumping from sofa to sofa. she couldn’t have been more proud of you and was looking forward to you talking about your new job.

you feared that the demands of being the lionel shabandar’s personal assistant would take away from their friendship, but rowan comforted you and assured that you deserve this job. even if it meant you were whisked away in a jet almost every day, she would still be here.

꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

4:32 in the morning.

you were no doubt a morning person, always wanting to get a glimpse of the sunrising and being able to do a lot of the things you couldn’t do in the morning.

you were expected to arrive at the building at 5:30am.

you did your morning routine and had your breakfast, before leaving rowan a note saying you’d be leaving for work and that everything should be there for her.

you hopped on the underground train and made your way to the shabandar building, it would seem like any regular day but this was lionel shabandar you’re talking about. you were asked to meet him on the 34th floor, you made a few pitstops on the way, you brought breakfast from a café nearby and you bought a new book to keep you company. you entered the lift and pressed the button for number 34. you exited the lift and turned to your left to the building’s gallery.

you opened the door and there you saw him, completely naked in front of you which frankly took you off guard.

“oh god! i’m so sorry, i’ll come back when you’re fully clothed. crap, i’m so sorry-”

“nonsense, y/n…come here, leave your things by the door.”

the shocked expression on your face didn’t leave your face any time soon. as you stood by him, you looked at the painting in front of you. “that’s the scream, by edvard munch i assume.” you said.

“you assumed correctly, one hundred and thirty five million dollars was how much money i put on this thing. it’s a beauty, don’t you think y/n?” he asked.

“of course…it’s one of munch’s notorious pieces of art. he once said: we want more than a mere photograph of nature. we do not want to paint pretty pictures to be hung on drawing-room walls. we want to create, or at least lay the foundations of, an art that gives something to humanity. an art that arrests and engages. an art created of one's innermost heart. i think he did just that with this piece.” you said.

“the shapes in the scream are organic, objects found in nature, but munch has distorted these objects to echos causes by the sunken head.”

lionel was taken aback at how you described this painting. frankly, you had a way with words, and he saw it in your thesis.

as you both stood beside one another, glaring at the painting in front of you gone was the startled look on your face, it seemed like you were slowly getting used to his prescience…even if he was fully naked in front of you.

“now…no time like the present. we’ve got work to do.” lionel said as he eventually grabbed his clothes, you tried so hard to keep your attention on the scream, if there were ever a piece of art that resonated with the situation you were in, it would most certainly be the scream.

“how long?” you asked.

lionel raised a brow, confused at your question. “how long was i gawking?” you asked with a better reiteration.

“10 minutes, most of the personal assistants i’ve had wouldn’t even last 5.” lionel answered.

you only nodded at his answer, once he got changed you were quick to grab your things.

“i thought i’d make a pitstop, so i got us some breakfast…and some coffee, if you’re willing to take up my request of course.” you offered.

another raised brow, lionel looked to his watch for a moment. he couldn’t refuse such a thing from the new personal assistant, you followed him to his office on the top floor and you handed him what looked to be his order.

a long day would be upon you.

꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

“y/n! you made it out alive!” rowan called as she heard the front door shut, you looked up to your roommate with an exhausted smile.

“thanks for leaving the house all prepared, you’re a legend.” she said.

“i couldn’t have you burning the house down, that would be turmoil.” you joked.

you and rowan both giggled, you were greeted to some lasagne on a plate, a can of your favourite energy drink and between the two of you, played a cheesy sitcom.

“so what was mister shabandar like?” rowan asked.

how could you, his personal assistant describe him? you heard from your new colleagues rumours about him here and there, to which you could only see for yourself. you didn’t want to be the first to judge him too harshly.

“he’s…quite the character.” you answered.

“oh come on y/n, you’re too nice! come on, he’s hot right? you’ve seen the billboards.” rowan prompted.

“be quiet you stupid girl!” you said.

“oooooh you’ve picked up his personality already!” rowan teased.

“shut up!” you rolled your eyes.

“hey, you never know. this job could really change your life, it could bring out the real you.” rowan said.

“i better hope this job does.” you said.

as you both relaxed and continued to watch more of the cheesy sitcom, you couldn’t help but think about your real intentions of this job.

you needed a miracle and if working with one of the best businessmen could help you so be it.

꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

as the months progressed, you got used to lionel’s work ethic. you picked up on the things he did with a click of his finger, you even got to know one another. you contemplated telling him about your financial state, but you decided against it.

you didn’t want to feel as if you only took this job only to mooch off his money.

if anything, you loved your job.

you loved being around lionel, you loved learning about all the art pieces that were being auctioned off and some being auctioned off to your boss himself.

granted, the paperwork was messy but at the end of the day you a genuine passion for art.

or perhaps, your passions lied with him…

you were invited to the shabandar annual gala, recently your social life had been boosted thanks to being lionel’s personal assistant. you were apprehensive about this gala and frankly so, you hadn’t been to a gala in ages, not since your days at oxford. you were allowed to have a plus one with you during this event. you parents weren’t around, neither did you have a significant other so what better way than to bring your roommate with you.

rowan insisted on taking you dress shopping if you were going to a place as massive and boujee as lionel’s. you adorned a blue gown that complimented every part of you, whilst rowan had gone for a red a-line dress, enough to blind the next 5 people who saw the dress.

you both arrived in style, courtesy of your boss of course. the moment you arrived, you took a moment to analyse the mansion. it looked absolutely stunning, something fresh out of a movie.

“miss l/n, a pleasure to see you’ve made it. mister shabandar is waiting for you.” a host said. you nodded and you and rowan both made it to the front garden.

“mister shabandar…hmmm?” rowan teased.

“not. a. peep.” you joked.

you took a good look around the place to find lionel. he wasn’t around but for a moment, you heard a small growl which startled you, unveiling the mask it was him. you smiled kindly at him as he pulled you into a warm hug.

“i’m glad you could make it y/n, its good to see you again.” lionel said.

“i could say the same to you, you don’t look too bad yourself.” you replied, jokingly adjusting his bowtie.

“oh lionel, this is my best friend and roommate, rowan collins. been through thick and thin she has.” you introduced.

“miss collins, a pleasure to meet you at long last. your best friend has spoken quite well of you.” lionel said, reaching for her hand and pressing it to his lips.

“oh…you’re too kind mister shabandar.” she said, you smirked to yourself knowing that this was the first and only time, you would see your best friend completely flustered over someone as dilf worthy as him.

the three of you made your way inside the mansion, and it was just as stunning as it was on the outside. you couldn’t help but adore being in a place such as this.

as the dances commenced, you felt a sudden wave of anxiety hit you. whilst there was no doubt that lionel wanted you around, you felt small. in this massive world that was the shabandar business, you couldn’t help but feel like a pawn in this game.

“care for a dance y/n?” lionel offered, with his golden lion mask in hand he extended his other. you only smiled meekly and took it.

you arrived in the main hall with him. looking around, everyone belonged here.

you didn’t.

plus the money you spent on appearances alone made you fearful. as you joined lionel for a dance, you tried to make it look as if you were enjoying yourself, but you and your body was filled with dread and worry.

your heart racing at miles that never seemed to end, your shoulders trembling at the wave of coldness that rushed to your body.

“i’m sorry…please excuse me.” you quivered, letting go of his grasp and leaving the hall. you needed air, ironically the whole mansion was filled with it but you needed fresh air.

you rushed up the stairs opening the doors to what seemed like the balcony, and you let out all the emotions you’ve been feeling for quite some time. you cried to yourself, out of fear that you weren’t going to fit in this industry, out of sadness because you felt like you were putting up a façade.

you were a mess.

“y/n?” that deep voice called.

you turned around and saw your boss. you perked a sad smile, instantly turning away to wipe away your tears.

“i haven’t…done anything to upset you have i?” lionel asked.

you shook your head.

“its just me.” you answered.

a confused expression left him.

“i just…i don’t know what i’m doing, i don’t fit in here. i clearly stand out, i don’t know where i’m going or what i’m doing, it just feels like i’m doing a horrendous job. i feel like i’ve lied to you, i didn’t just apply to be your personal assistant for the job description…i need the money. i’m in so much debt, everything just keeps piling on top of each other and i look stupid…i look an absolute mess and i can’t do any of this.” you unleashed all your emotions, walking away from him and bursting into tears.

lionel had seen many of his staff members burst into hysterical tears because of their jobs here in this business but never had they felt like they were out of place.

lionel approached you, taking his hands into your own. “i don’t want you to worry over this sense of belonging, you deserve your position here just as much as anyone else.” lionel said.

you wiped away your tears once more, a sense of comfort was felt knowing that he acknowledged your work.

lionel had his eyes on the computer, that had been open for quite a while he went over at pressed a few keys on his keyboard before pressing the shutdown button.

”what did you do?” you sniffled.

“you’ll have to wait and see y/n.” lionel said. “now…i can’t have my personal assistant so down on an evening such as this hm?” he added.

you perked a small smile as you wiped away your tears, you felt your cheeks heat up in the moment you were with him all by yourself.

you took his hand and he wrapped your arm around his, linking it to yours. the moment of pride washed over lionel as he looked at you, he hadn’t seen anyone like you. so willing to work with him and yet your patience astounded him.

“you’re doing a wonderful job y/n.” lionel said, his comforting words wrapped around you as you slightly beamed at his kind words.

a newfound confidence wavered all over you as you took pride in being in lionel shabandar’s prescience.

you were having more fun than ever before, you let yourself loose and had the time of your life.

the most fun you had in ages.

꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

“you’re usually up before the sun is, what’s gotten to you?” rowan asked, munching on her porridge oats.

“well…lionel’s asked me to come in a little later, probably after last night’s gala of course.” you assumed.

“oh yeah you looked like you were having the time of your life.” rowan giggled, you only rolled your eyes at the girl.

“don’t have too much fun without me.” you joked, as you put on your blazer and left the house.

another day at work, you arrived at the building as you looked down at your watch. you were asked to come in at 8am, which was quite the shock since you would have usually been in the building by six in the morning.

much to your surprise, you weren’t asked to stare at another painting with lionel whilst he was butt naked.

you greeted him at his office, he was sat on the sofa completing a few papers about the next auction the both of you had planned. lionel had his eyes on the prize on the original starry night, he was very eager to obtain such a painting.

“you hadn’t checked any of your emails recently?” lionel asked.

another confused expression left your face, you sat by him on the sofa as you opened your bag to reach for your laptop and opened your emails.

3 emails appeared before your eyes.

lionel shabandar made a transaction to your account.

previous amount: £73.92

amount sent: £15,500,000

amount: £15,500,073.92

amount deducted: £27,750

amount deducted £14,140

amount deducted: £66,120

overall deduction: £108,010

current amount: £14,892,063.92

if this is the account holder please ignore this email, if this isn’t you please direct yourself to the link provided.

then you read the next emails.

re: tuition payment at oxford university

dear y/n l/n,

we are writing to inform you that your university tuition has been paid off, please keep the statement with you at all costs.

ucas code: w100

duration: 3 years (bfa)

amount: £27,750

course code: tf_fr1

duration: 9 months (mfa)

amount: £14,140

overall amount paid: £41,890

regards

financial department of oxford university.

_______

re: tuition payment at the university college of london

dear y/n l/n,

we are writing to inform you that your tuition has been paid off, please keep the statement with you at all costs.

course code: rrdfinsing01

duration: 3 years (phd)

amount: £22,040

overall amount paid: £66,120

regards

financial department of the university college london

you looked to him with a completely dumb founded look on your face. to which lionel only responded with a deep chuckle, this was his doing?

“you actually…paid them off…all one hundred and eight thousand pounds of it?” you stumbled on your words. it looked as if he enjoyed all of your reaction.

“can you pinch me, slap me across the face? anything? i have to be dreaming, if you pinch me then i’ll wake up in my bed at 4am and i’ll be visiting you on the 34th floor asking you to stare at the mona lisa whilst you’re butt naked.” you rambled on.

lionel pinched your upper arm, you feet were still firm on the ground, you were still sitting on the sofa beside your boss.

“okay…not a dream.” you said.

“but why? you didn’t have to do that.” you added.

lionel tugged at his sleeves, adjusting his blazer before inching closer to you.

“you’ve worked so hard, it’s the least i could do and besides, don’t think i didn’t notice.” lionel asked.

you tilted your head at his comment.

“the way you eye my work, the way you analyse ever bank statement that comes in, the way you…look at me.” lionel answered.

his hand made his way to your cheek, which startled you. tensing up at his touch but very slowly, you melted into his grasp.

“you intrigue me y/n…in such…beautiful ways.” lionel said.

suddenly, you found yourself intertwined in a passionate and slow kiss. your mind and heart running at more than a million miles as you found yourself colliding with him.

the moment you pulled away from him, your eyes were screaming out for love. perhaps he was the one, granted your tastes had been very odd but he radiated perfection.

“we shouldn’t be doing this.” you mumbled.

“there was nothing in your contract that you could gain feelings for me.” lionel said, his eyes were always on you, his attention never left you.

“might i remind you who your boss is?” lionel asked.

“you.”

“good girl.” lionel whispered.

another kiss bounded you together, your hesitancy slowly disappeared as you wrapped your arms around him and you edged yourself closer to him.

“reckon i could get a raise?” you murmured in between kisses.

“don’t push it.” lionel answered, a smirk wavered on both your faces as you kissed each other once more.

you found a new confidence whenever you were around him.

everything was so new to you.

and perhaps, being with lionel could change everything.

#alan rickman #rickmaniac #gambit #romance #lionel shabandar #lionel shabandar x reader #lionel shabandar x female reader #shoutouts to the two people who've written for lionel shabandar so far #now i have become the third #monster-energies fics

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stopbeingcurious · 3 years

Text

You make me feel young again*

PART THREE / MASTERLIST

pairing: post azkaban sirius black x y/n

warning: dirty thoughts/ letters

a/n i had so many request to make more of this series so here we are... enjoy :P

A couple of weeks had gone past, without any contact from Sirius and yours and Professor Lupins relationship had gone back to normal, like nothing had ever happened.

The only thing on your mind was the way Sirius touched you, how his skin felt against yours. You missed it.

You remember the words Sirius spoke the last and only time you were together;

“Not many girls like you,”

Not many girls like you? The way Sirius spoke about his time as a teenager he made it sound like he had slept around.

It was taunting your mind, you wanted to see Sirius again, you needed too. You daydreamed in class about him, at lunch in the shower, in bed. You needed that mans affection again.

It got so bad that you were loosing sleep, you were genuinely so aroused that you couldn't sleep at night, not with a puddle and a heartbeat between your legs.

You thought you could relieve some of the tension yourself but of course that didn't work, just made it worse.

You needed male attention.

And of course your friends caught onto your behaviour changes, asking you a variety or questions when you left your dorm room looking like a disheveled mess.

In other words, you were desperate.

class

You're currently sitting in class, potions to be exact, listening to Professor Snape bore on about how it's illegal to become animagi underage. You had no interest whatsoever in the subject at hand so decided to rest your head on your hand and let your mind wander. What you didn't remember was that Professor Snape was a skilled Legilimens. His voice rung out from the front of the class just as your mind wandered in the direction it had been for a while now, Sirius.

“Y/n, I suggest you concentrate if you don't want your fellow classmates and I knowing what you're thinking about,” His eyes narrowed in your direction, pulling everyones attention from their work, all eyes on you. Some smirks, some confused, some bothered because they had been distracted.

You let out a silent huff as you switch your attention to the parchment in front of you.

common room

Your friends surround you, all looking intrigued. They had just interrupted you from reading your book sitting next to the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room.

“We know somethings up Y/n, would you just give up and tell us already!” Angelina flung her arms around in expression. She was pulled out of her expressive state with a hand on her shoulder, Freds.

“Ange is right Y/n, we just wanna know if there was anything we could do to help.” Fred asks, his body was slouched forwards slightly so he didn't seem as intimidating as he usually did.

You measure your friends that you're okay and that you're just not getting enough sleep.

You were so into your book and now your attention has been snatched by your brain again, filling your vision with images of that night, the night where right went wrong, the night of your life.

You'd had enough of this tormenting, the only way you could get to Sirius was through Professor Lupin and you had an idea.

You proceeded to write Sirius a letter, a very detailed letter, just to bless his imagination as much as you blessed his everyday but the your mind flooded with questions; What if Sirius didn't want to see you again? Is that why he hadn't contacted you first? Did he think you were just a one time thing? But Sirius thought the complete opposite of this.

Sirius received your letter, Remus handed it to him with a stern look on his face.

“I didn't read it, I respect your privacy Sirius but you have to be smart about it,” Sirius knew straight away who the letter was from. Remus sat at the table opposite him in their shared home.

“We don't know what it says yet Moony,” Sirius scoffs and opens the letter.

Dear Sirius,

If Prof. Lupin is around, do not show any sign on your face with the words I am about to say. Sirius I miss your touch, I'm not sure if you thought it was a one time thing and I could be embarrassing myself right now but if you feel the same, if you didn’t want it to be a one time thing I wonder why I can see you next. I sit in my classes, arousal pooling in my panties because of you. Your making me feral Sirius, I need you inside of me soon, I cant please myself, I need you and your big cock to stretch out my tight pussy, its waiting for you Sirius.

Y/n :)

Sirius couldn't contain himself, he quickly grew hard in his trousers also trying not to show any signal as to what the letter had just read. Of course he wanted to see you again, he wanted his hands all over your body, his callous fingers rubbing against the red of your ass where he has just slapped.

Remus looked at him with confusion as Sirius was sitting there with sort of wide eyes wondering how he was suddenly wrapped up with an 18 year old. He was pinning over her, attached.

“Sirius, what did it say?” Remus leaned forwards in his chair, hand sewn together as well as his eyebrows.

Sirius snapped out of his stance on the command of Remus’ voice.

“It said that what we did was a mistake and that she is sorry,” Sirius lies straight through his teeth, pretending that the letter had bruised his ego.

The air was clear, and everyone could breath again.

Sirius was relieved that Remus had believed him and Remus was relieved because Sirius and yourself were no longer infatuated with each other, lifting a huge relief of his shoulder.

But Remus didn't know the contents of Sirius next letter to you...

hogwarts

You were sitting at breakfast, tapping on the table. Your distractions had gotten better over the last couple days meaning that you'd been sleeping better meaning that your friends hadn't been on your back constantly.

“You alright Y/n?” Angelina sits next to you, swinging her legs dramatically over the bench, stretching her arm into the middle of the table to grab an apple.

“Yeah I'm okay thanks Ange,” She smiles at you. “How are you?” You ask, taking another bite of the toast that sat on your plate.

“Yeah yeah I'm all good, anyway I came here to tell you that Professor Lupin wants to see you before class,” Your eyes widen, had he read the letter between you and Sirius? You didn't think he would have, he wasn't the type to invade privacy.

Angelina noticed the colour drain from your face and a worried look creeps onto her face. “Whats wrong? What did you do? Are you in trouble?” She bombards you with questions to which you stand up and run out of the hall towards the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. You might as well pack your bags now, theres no way that he is going to let you off without punishment after he read the letter.

Your legs ran as fast as they could take you, dodging students and teachers, earning a phew ‘No running in corridors’.

You came to an immediate halt in front of the door you recognised so well and you knocked.

“Come in,” You heard from the other side of the door.

You take a deep breath, feel the cold untouched door handle underneath your shaking skin. You breath again, trying to steady your breaths and trying to hold back the tears that were ebbing on your waterline.

You push the door open to find your DADA Professor standing at the top of the stairs leading up to his office, you sniffle and bite your lip, hiding any emotion.

“Come into my office Y/n,” He turns around and strides into his office, leaving the door open behind him.

You begin to walk towards the stairs, having his emotionless words replay in your head, thinking out all the possibilities of how this interaction could go and how you could make it easier for yourself. You pace the floor feeling the cold air of the classroom consume you due to the lack of human warmth. You shiver and resume your journey now striding up the stairs.

Pushing the door open, you stride into his office the same way he did. You immediately saw a letter on the desk, you mentally cursed yourself, letting your Professor do all the talking.

“I see you got my message from Angelina?” He was slouched back in his chair, looking rather relaxed.

You nod, worried if you speak that your voice will break as you were on the verge of tears.

“Why so quiet? Is there something wrong?” His eyebrows furrowed as he asked.

“No nothing, just not sleeping properly lately,” You lie, you figured you would just tell everyone the same thing so that if the subject came up everyones stories would match.

“Ah yes, Angelina told me,” You looked shocked. “Anyway,” He dismisses the subject. “I have something for you,” Remus turns your attention when he picks up the letter on the desk with his long, dainty fingers.

The letter was for you? You thought that was the letter you sent Sirius.

You take the letter that he was offering and examine it. There was no name on the front of it and it wasn't sealed at the back. You look up at your Professor and all he does is smile and nod, then your attention is back on the letter, you practically ripped it open, knowing that it was from Sirius.

Dear Y/n,

I assume you will have received this letter from Remus.

We cant send any more letters as I told Remus that your letter was about how you thought what we did was wrong and that it was a mistake so tell him that as well, thats what he knows. I am in instant need of you, I want to feel your body below me, writhing around underneath me. I need to taste you, all of you. I want to make your ass all red then kiss it all over. I want to make you cum over and over and over until you cant cum anymore, would you like that? I will find a way that we can reunite but you're going to have to wait pup, I'm sure you can do that for me.

Sirius *paw-print*

The colour drained from your face once again and your heart rate sped up drastically. Only Sirius words had this great of an effect on you. You had to hide any expression from Remus, you knew what he knew and you had to go along with it.

“Im sorry Y/n but I think it was for the best,” The Professor sat before you, shuffling papers ready for your first lesson with him.

“I agree Professor, thank you for delivering my letter,” You reply, trying to ignore the puddle in you underwear. You had to do something about it before class started, you could sit in his lesson feeling aroused the whole time!

“Your free to wait in here Y/n, class will start soon,” You decline your Professors offer and run to the toilet with the letter, needing to relieve some of this built up tension.

#harry potter #harry potter smut #sirius fluff #sirius black fluff #sirius black smut #sirius black #sirius orion black #remus lupin smut #remus john lupin #remus lupin #professor lupin smut #professor lupin #hogwarts

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kats-random-writing · 3 years

Text

Happy New Year

Happy New Year Everyone!! we made it! its been one hell of a year, but we did it, I gotta say I’m so proud of everyone! ❤️

also! looks who’s back writing agin? ME, i hope you like this fic, its a little longer then a drabble cuz I’m a wordy bitch apparently, but i like it and hope you guys do to, all art in this fic was by me too.

Happy New Year

Shigaraki X Reader

1475 words

16+ please, theres swearing and stuff, also mention of unwanted touching.

_______________________________________________________________________

The league was your home, you were surprised how easily you fit in, but I guess when you put a bunch of “misfits” together they all know how it feels to be an outcast.

You joined shortly after Toga and Dabi, but not for the same reasons, see they followed stain, you not so much, you believed in Shigaraki. You’d been following his exploits as best you could, and had seen his growth from inexperienced leader to now, a terrifying force to be reckoned with. You believed in him. And it had nothing to do with the fact that you kind of thought he was attractive. Nope! Definitely not! He was a good leader for a cause you believed in, that’s it, totally!

Moving in the league, was…..not what you expected, it was chaotic, loud, and perfect. Everyone took care of each other, they also loved to annoy one another. Like you said, it’s your home, and the rest of the “villains”, your family.

You had all been ordered to lay low over the holidays, expecting more hero movement on the surface, it was the safest thing to do. So all of you were piled in the common space before the bar, it had shitty decorations courtesy of Toga and Yourself. Nobody really argued so they stayed up, even though Christmas was over and it was New Year’s Eve.

“So then I punched him, and his nose started to bleed!” Togas excited tone pulled you from your thoughts, “IT WAS SO CUTE! ALL THAT BLOOD, ALL OVER HIS FACE!.....he ran away though” she puzzled.

“Yeah cuz you punched him, crazy!” Dabi threw back his head laughing. Toga pouted and reached out to smack him

“HEY! Don’t be rude! He looked better with the blood, besides at least he wanted to kiss me!” She said triumphantly, “it’s not like you have people lining up to kiss you!” She threw back at him.

He rolled his eyes, and smirked, pulling his stapes in a way you thought must hurt

“You’d be surprised”

“NO WAY”

Laughter erupted around the room, as you watched Dabi just sip his drink, the smirk never leaving his face.

“Why are you all so fucking loud?” A new voice joins the conversation as your leader Shigaraki trudges into the room, “it’s almost midnight, I’m trying to sleep”

He makes his way across the room to his empty armchair.

“I’m sorry! ~BUT ITS NEW YEARS~” twice manages to interrupt himself to answer Shigaraki.

“We’re staying in tonight like you ordered” Dabi glares “Since it’s “too dangerous”” the patchwork villain air quoted around dangerous.

“Yeah! New Years should be out! Having fun, meeting cute people to kiss!” Toga chimed in!

“Whatever” is the only response you get.

“Your turn y/n!” Twice near shouts, reviving the conversation, “best~OR WORST~ New Years ~ KISS~”

Your cheeks redden at the thought of going into detail of some of your New Years of the past,

“Um, well…...OH OKAY! Got one, so this one time a few years ago I was at the bar, right. And I’m talking with this guy all night and we’re hitting it off~” you realize you now have ALL eyes on you, and your cheeks fade back to that deep crimson. “~ and um, yeah so we do the count down and at midnight we kiss and, ok he was shit at kissing anyways so my plans for the evening are shot already, THEN! IN. THE. BAR. this motherfucker tries to feel me up! So I’m like “no let’s just kiss, Kay?” Rolling your eyes you continue

“He’s like sure thing babe” you here a few chuckles your deepened “dude bro” voice.

“Then this asshole immediately starts groping me again”

“Fucker”

“No way”

“Ew~WHAT A HORRIBLE MAN”

As you could’ve predicted all your friends exclaimed in disgust. But there’s voice you didn’t expect

“What did you do?”

His red eyes seem to stare into your very soul, as his left hand reaches up to start scratching his neck. Your cheeks darken again, you swear you're probably as red as his eyes, not that you’ve taken much time thinking about his eyes, or him, totally.

“Um well….I..I...I” you stutter under his gaze, “I uh, hehe, I pulled his hand off me, and broke his wrist, Then left” you shrug and try to sound nonchalant, a hard thing to do when Shigaraki is staring you down, like he can’t decide whether to hug you or kill you. You don’t even hear the rest of your friends' responses to your story, not until Shigaraki nods and turns his stunning eyes from yours.

“TWO MINUTES UNTIL MIDNIGHT!! Kurogiri! Turn on the tv!”

The shadowy man behind the bar simply nods before picking up the remote and turning on the New Years count down

“Oh great leader” Dabi begins sarcastically “what about you? Best, worst…..or any, New Year’s Eve kisses to date.”

The hush that fell over the small room was deafening....and if you thought your blush was bad going into your own kissing stories - you must look like a lobster thinking about hearing Shigaraki’s.

All eyes shift between the two men, until finally

“fuck off you burnt chicken nugget”

“I guess that answers that question” Dabi laughs as he rises from his seat, reaching for his jacket. “ I’m gonna go to the roof for a smoke”

“But you're gonna miss the countdown!” Toga wines.

“And? Not like I’m gonna kiss any of you.” He states as he walks down the hall and out of sight.

While toga drags on about Dabi abandoning the group, a realization dawns on you, as though someone striped away all the clouds and the sun was shining on you for the first time, Shigaraki, you long time -totally not crush- has never had a New Years kiss. This revelation also gives you an idea. And whether it’s a good or bad idea you're still not sure but for now? You’ve made up your mind. It’s the perfect time to make your move. You look at the tv one last time, less than a minute. Your heart feels like it’s gonna beat out of your chest.

You rise from your seat and go stand next to Toga, and try to turn your attention back to the screen.

Ten

Nine

Eight

~holy shit~

Seven

~you’re actually about to do it~

Six

Five

Four

~shitshitshitshitshit~

Three

Two

~here goes nothing~

One

HAPPY NEW YEAR

As Twice and Toga cheer you reach and grab Togas face to quickly press a kiss to her cheek, she quickly grabs your face to kiss your cheek as well. She also lightly bites your cheek before releasing you, both giggling.

You quickly cross the room to Twice, holding your hands out, letting him close the distance he places his masked face into your waiting hands. You lean down to kiss his forehead. “happy new year~I LOVE YOU!”

You swear you float across the room, your pounding heart is all you can hear, the heat in your cheeks, all you can feel and as you look up again you are standing before Shigaraki Tomura.

He’s of course looking down at his phone.

You take a breath, then another. Then reach down placing one hand on the chair behind his head, bringing his attention to you, your right hand you reach under to hold his chin, and guide his head up so your eyes meet.

Looking deeply for any sign he might be truly uncomfortable, but you only see shock, confusion and maybe even a hint of excitement. You gaze down to his lips, while licking your own whisper “happy new year Tomura” and bringing your head down, to finally touch your lips to his.

He’s stiff, frozen and for a moment your terrified you’ve made a mistake, you hold steady and continue the kiss, and after a few seconds he melts into your touch, tilting his head to match you and opening himself up to you, quickly you step closer to him, making him arch his back to continue the contact, you move your hands sending one to cup his face and the other to run through his hair, his hands alternate between the chair arms and space between your bodies.

Your both breathing heavy, when you hear “Y/N…..Holy shit”

Snapping back to reality to realize all eyes are locked onto the two of you, Twices head snapping between you and Tomura, and Toga. It was Toga who spoke, she’s still standing wide eyed and mouth hanging open.

“Happy new year??” You shrug as you sit down on Shigaraki’s lap, his arms protectively wrap around you, careful not to actually touch you with his gloved fingers. You smile and think to yourself, it’s gonna be a good year!

#happynewyear #bnhharem #shigaraki x reader #newyearskiss #bnha #fanfic

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soulwillower · 4 years

Text

rude boy III • richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader smut)

part 3 of this series!

requested: this has been requested a lot and i dont have enough space to put them all! sorry it took so long!!

warnings: swearing, fluff, smut, bit of angst, a tiny bit of rough sex, but then soft sex, theres lots of crying in this lol but its not v angsty, oral (fem receiving), dirty talk, some praise kink, and richie has a hair pulling kink, kinda vanilla tho, unprotected sex, unedited

[losers + reader are aged up 18+ in this.]

5.6k words, oh man sorry

also: i was listening to peach by kevin abstract as i write the car scene :’)

♡

it was one of those days that just didn't stop. one thing after another, from your car breaking down last night to customers calling you sloppy and leaving no tip. the sun rays that shine on your back are warm and cast a long shadow out onto the field in front of you and the breeze makes you sniffle a bit. you'd dropped a whole tray of food on yourself right at the end of your shift, and syrup is drying your hair and dripping down your uniform - you feel like shit.

tears leak slowly from your eyes, feeling sorry for yourself and wondering what you're going to do for the night - you could probably call one of your neighbors, or maybe mike, but you'd left your keys inside your house and nobody was home, so you're stranded without access to your house or a car.

you laugh a bit, in disbelief at the day you've had.

"the fuck are you doing down there, y/l/n? thought you got off thirty minutes ago." a nasally, judging, and pretentious voice calls from a few feet behind you, and you try not to outwardly groan as you quickly wipe away your tears. you sigh in defeat, knowing the tears probably won't dry up in time, and you turn to look at richie.

he's standing with his hoodie in his arm, bathed in golden light and barely more than a silhouette from where he's standing against the dying sun. you really hate how ethereal he looks.

"richie, can you lay off for tonight?" you spit, turning around quickly so he doesn't see your puffy face. "just leave, i don't want to see you right now."

and it's only half true. because recently, you'd actually found solace in richie's company. yes, you still argued, but the fire that surrounds your words are now driven by something more akin to fondness rather than the original animosity. it was freaking you out, but when richie would leave a milkshake with extra whipped cream on the counter for you when he clocked out, or when he stuck his tongue out at rude customers when they turned away, and even when he flirted with you just to be a dick, something tickled inside your chest and you even found yourself flirting back with him. and enjoying it immensely. it was sick.

you thought he'd left you alone but much to your dismay, the familiar beaten red converse high tops smack next to you on the pavement as richie folds his lanky body in two, sitting down only a few inches from you on the sidewalk facing the field.

"what's on your mind?" he says after a few awkward moments and you spare a glance at him. his eyes are taking in your red and puffy face, but his features are concerned. you feel that chest tickle again.

"lots of things. what are you doing?" you say suspiciously, hugging yourself and wiping away stray tears as they fall. you wish you could get up and leave, but it's too far to walk home and it's about to get dark. richie shrugs, playing with his fingers as they sit atop his legs, his knee bouncing incessantly. it irritates you, but you don’t say anything

"where's your car, y/l/n? drive it into a lake or something?" he says instead, completely disregarding your previous question and making you roll your eyes. "shut up, richie. god. i just- my car broke down and-" and your voice breaks and you shove your face into your hands to hide your embarrassment from the boy next to you.

"woah, it's just a car. damn, what's wrong?" richie says and you shake your head as its buried between your hands. "i've j- i have a lot on my mind. can you leave?" you say, pulling your face from your hands to look at him, knowing you look like a mess. it's not like he hasn't seen you cry before, but that was much different than now and you're even more embarrassed that he's seeing you so vulnerable.

"not to be rude, but i'm not going to leave, toots. we don't have to talk, but i really don't think you should be alone." he shrugs, saying it casually as if it wasn't completely out of character for the two of you to hang out. you try not to consider it too much, instead stretching your legs out and gesturing to your skirt. "i spilled earlier." you say weakly but with a lilt of humor in your voice. richie chuckles, nudging your shoulder with his own. "you can shower and wash it when you get home, though."

you sigh, shaking your head as tears fill your vision again. you laugh wetly, "i forgot my keys at home. nobody's there, so i'm..." you sigh, "i'm locked out." the tips of your shoes drag on top of the cement as you laugh regretfully, staring up at the field in front of you and at the groundhog that runs across the ground in the afternoon air.

richie doesn't even laugh like he should have.

"let me take you for a ride." richie says after a few moments, making you turn and look at him. he's looking at you earnestly, head tilted slightly as his curls blow in the breeze. the golden light hits his face in a way that sharpens the angles of his cheekbones and makes him look much more serious than usual. his eyes glow in that same light and he seems so genuine for the first time in his rotten existence that you can't help but whisper, "okay."

it's quiet for a few moments and neither of you move so much as a muscle. the breeze is calm and for some reason, you're much less on edge than you think you should be. richie rises next to you, brushing off his black pants with his palms.

"let's go, sugar." he mutters quietly, holding his hand out for you. you stare at it for two seconds before lightly grabbing it, letting him pull you up quickly. "where are we going to go?" you ask with a sniffle, your tears finally ceasing. richie drops your hand and you follow him to a beat up chevy truck where he opens the door for you, muttering about how its 'broken' and that you'd never be able to open it yourself. it makes you roll your eyes, but you say nothing in response.

"we're going to get you that shower." he finally says as he starts the car. you look at him disdainfully, but deep down you're just relieved that you're going to be able to get clean as soon as you can.

your forehead rests against your outstretched arm laying out of the open window as your hair whips around you, richie coursing down the road into town quickly. a song you don't recognize plays on his stereo and he sings to it, not at all quietly but not too loud to be entirely obnoxious and you're shocked to hear that he's got a pretty nice voice.

it seems to calm you down, so you turn to watch him through the corner of your eyes, admiring the moment because it's going to be over too soon, and you don't want to go back to how it used to be with richie now that you have these weird feelings.

the fighting constantly is exhausting; the sex is great, but couldn't you and richie still have that without wanting to murder each other? whatever happens, you can't show richie how you feel - it'll change everything and he'll never let you live it down. you think it might crush you.

but you can't help it that you definitely don't want to murder him currently. you watch him with a small grin.

he's driving with one hand on the wheel, eyes on the road and an easy look on his face as he sings the chorus of the song, somehow giving you butterflies. it feels almost too peaceful, absolutely nothing like the few times you've spent alone time with richie, and you're sure that he could never truly feel a shred of attraction beyond primally physical with someone like you. the thought makes you want to cry all over again - you bite your lip, wondering if your feelings are brought on by your shitty day, by the mood of the moment, or something else entirely.

maybe it's just him.

he turns to glance at you, as if sensing your eyes on him and the small grin he sends you as he harmonizes the last line of the song makes you blush, turning your eyes back to the scenery zipping by. you barely hear richie's soft chuckle.

when you pull up to the house, you're not very surprised to see it's massive; but when you follow him inside silently you're shocked at the warmth you feel. a woman sits with a mug and a book at the dining table. she looks like richie, but her hair is straight and in a low bun. she's beautiful.

"hi, mom." richie says, pressing a kiss to her forehead. she smiles at him, "hi, honey. how was work?" he mumbles a response and then you make eye contact with her. she smiles even warmer. "oh hi, i'm maggie." she introduces herself. you smile and wave a bit, "y/n. it's nice to meet you."

richie looks embarrassed, "she's my coworker." he explains, filling up a cup with water. maggie nods, "oh, right! i've heard a lot about you, y/n."

richie looks at the floor with red cheeks and you smile at her, nodding awkwardly as your cheeks also turn red.

"we're going upstairs, now." he says and you feel like it's more an order to you than a statement to his mom, so you wave at maggie as he drags you towards the stairs, maggie chuckling as you leave the room.

you step into richie's room and it smells overwhelmingly like him, so much so that you feel the weird tickle in your chest and you know if you spend too much time in here it won't be good for you.

your eyes flicker throughout the room - landing on pictures of him with maggie and who you assume must be his father, of him and his friends, and of random postcards and art prints. paintings of birds as well as other style sketches of mike and several other kids - including richie himself - hang proudly on display, and you’re fairly certain they’re not painted by him, but it warms your heart that he has them. you wonder who did them.

there's posters, records, and a skateboard in the corner. his floor is slightly messy, an empty energy drink on the windowsill that you see has a crushed cigarette on it. you kind of fall in love with it every second longer you stay in it and you're not sure why - it's just so... richie.

"um, just to clarify, i didn't- i didn't, like, tell my mom about..." he says suddenly, and you smirk at him as he trails off while scratching his neck. you laugh, "no shit, richie. that would be gross." you say. he grins with a shrug, quickly back to his usual self. "you didn't seem to think it was very gross when we actually did it. both times."

you shove him, face red in embarrassment. "can i use your shower, douchebag?" you ask and he laughs as he walks out of his room and leads you to his bathroom. "i fucking hate you." you mutter as you follow, glaring at his shoulders as they shake silently with laughter. after he gives you a towel and some clothes to change into, he tells you he'll be in his room and you lock the door behind him.

you shower quickly, using what you assume is richie's shampoo and smiling like a lovesick idiot when you recognize the scent of strawberry. you're still grinning like that as you walk back into richie's room, hair dripping and your body slightly drowning in his clothes. "hey sexy." he says in a teasing tone, prompting you to flip him off, smile still on your lips. he's sitting on his deckchair, spinning slowly from his feet as he watches you sit on his bed. "um. thank you a lot, richie. i'm not sure what i would have done if you hadn't let me come over." you say sheepishly, looking from side to side. "where's my stuff?"

he shrugs, "put them in the wash. they'll be done soon, we can wait until someone gets back at your house. or- you know, if you need a place to stay, i can take the couch tonight."

your heart flutters, your mind barely even taking the time to be shocked anymore at how he is away from work. you'd just assumed...

and for some reason, the realization of everything that's happened makes your eyes watery again. "-hey, y/n, it's okay." he says softly as you close your eyes and shake your head, "no, no i know, it's fine, i'm just being a child." you mutter, rubbing your eyes furiously. richie laughs, "i've seen you act like a child before, sugar. this isn't one of those times."

this makes you roll your eyes and suddenly you feel better. you laugh almost bitterly, "how do you do that?" you ask quietly, more to yourself than richie. he looks at you curiously, crossing the threshold of his room to sit beside you. "do what?" he asks. you shrug one shoulder, "dunno. you're actually good at making me feel better. i almost hate you for it."

"nah, i know you could never hate me." he jests, but again you know there's a ring of truth to it. "as much as i try." you say almost too honestly, and richie gives you an odd look.

"want to hear something kind of lame?" richie asks, already looking embarrassed. you shift a bit to look at him, ignoring the feeling of him that you get from everything around you - the bed sheets under you, the air moving through the room, the soft light of the moon, the clothes you're wearing, the look he's giving you.

"everything you say is lame." you say weakly, but you don't add on, waiting for him to tell you. he shakes his head with a small laugh. "i get excited for your shifts now." richie admits, his cheeks glowing red, "like, actually get excited to see your stupid face when you clock in."

the honesty of it makes you smile immediately, heartbeat quickening. you're shocked, truly. "it's awful, sugar. you're really throwing a wrench in my playboy status." he adds, making you roll your eyes.

"what playboy status?" you ask, biting your lip to conceal a grin at his words - does he feel the same as you?

he shrugs with a limp hand wave, "you wouldn't understand. doesn't matter, not sure if i'm going to be much of a playboy anymore." he says, voice teasing but a strand of truth laced tightly in between his words. it makes you grin down at the sweats on your body. his sweats. they're soft and cozy against your body, and the shirt smells overwhelmingly like him.

"what, you got someone in mind?" you say, half teasing but yearning to hear your name fall from his lips because you don't know if you could say it yourself. he looks at you, "depends on what she wants from me. she’s a pain in the ass, though, don’t know her very well yet."

oh. you nod, realizing that he actually was talking about someone else and feeling bitter. "well. you're an unbearable asshole, so anybody would be a fool to want you." you say, sounding a lot less joking than you intended.

his grin falters and a look that is slightly comparable to hurt flashes across his face. he scoffs, shaking his head.

"doesn't mean much coming from you, does it?" he says with an eye roll and your eyes widen. so much for thinking he liked you. "i was joking." you say, rolling your eyes. he crosses his arms, "if i'm as bad as you think, then that means you're a real sleaze. i mean, you practically beg for my cock every time we're alone, so what does that say about you?" he spits, clenching his jaw and looking away.

your eyes widen, heart breaking at his words. you really dug yourself a hole this time. "why do you have to be so fucking insolent all the time? i swear to god, i do not understand you." you say, standing up and wishing for your tears to not reappear.

this day could not get any fucking worse, could it? through your frustration, you start to make your way towards his door, not wanting a single thing that reminds you of him. "you don't understand me? god, y/n, that's so fucking hypocritical. you're so stuck up that when i was trying to do a nice thing because i fucking care ab- what are you doing?!" he hisses, eyes wide as you shove the sweats off your legs, leaving you in your underwear and his shirt.

you throw a glare at him through glossy eyes, face red with embarrassment and mostly anger, "i'm leaving. i don't need your shit, i need to go."

"and where the fuck do you think you're going?" richie says, following you as you walk towards his door.

"anywhere is better than being here with you." you spit, but his arm reaches to slam shut the door. you whirl around to find him much closer than you'd expected, his eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched in anger. tension fills the room.

"you're just gonna walk down there and dig through my fucking laundry, half naked, in front of my parents?" richie sneers. "no. you're not going anywhere, y/n. i don't care how much of a brat you are, or how much you hate me." he snaps, his breath hitting your face.

something about his words and his tone and most likely the situation you're in makes you swallow and clench your thighs together. damn richie and his hotness, and damn you and your stupid fucking feelings. "fine." you mutter, standing your ground still.

you can almost feel the two of you both fighting against it, but suddenly your lips are on his and hes spinning you, tossing you onto the bed.

"you're so fucking controlling. i hate it." you mutter as he crashes against you on his mattress. "really, princess? because you seem to like it when my cock is inside you." he spits back, cheeks red with anger. you gulp back a sneer, feeling yourself get wetter by the minute as he thrusts against you.

"whatever, richie. just fuck me if you're going to fuck me, or i can leave." you say and he growls, looking pissed. he ruts against you and he's hard already. you'd make fun, but you can feel yourself slick through your underwear and his fingers are already pulling off your panties, palming himself as he kisses you harshly.

"then be fucking good and shut up." he mutters, making you think back to the first time you hooked up. there's a fire between you two as he pulls himself out of his jeans, pumping a few times before running his tip up and down your slit, teasing you. you let out a strangled whimper, trying your hardest not to give in and show him any emotion.

and then he's pushing into you roughly, just as you remember it, and this time you wonder if he can taste your dried tears on your lips as he fucks into you hard.

you clutch him, letting out moans and stuttering breaths as he moves his hips but then he's pulling you closer to his chest, fingers gripping the material of his shirt and suddenly you can smell him.

you smell him everywhere, all around you and it becomes overbearing and overwhelming as you realize that you can't just hide your feelings for richie anymore, especially not with the way he's holding you against him. it seems way too intimate to be just casual, and you feel the stinging behind your eyes at the realization.

you let in a gasp as it hits you, tears for the fourth time today streaming down your cheeks. his face is buried in your neck as he fucks into you so you hold your breath, hoping you'll stop crying quicker than he'll notice.

he hits a spot inside you that makes you moan and a sob escapes with it, making richie instantly perk up, eyes wide as he sees your face.

"why are you crying?" he asks, this time with no sneer, obviously able to read that your tears are from a very raw emotion. he stills himself but stays inside you, elbows stilting him up above you as his fluffy curls frame his face.

you shake your head, your chest shaking with tremors. "keep going." you mutter, trying to rock your hips against his as you squeeze your eyes shut, hot tears streaming down your cheeks. at least you won't have to look at him. "richie, keep going."

"no, y/n, what - am i hurting you?" he asks, and he sounds so soft and nervous, a complete 180 from just a few minutes ago. he starts to pull out and you grab him, trying to make him stay, but he pulls all the way out and mutters, "baby, what's going on?"

and you let out another sob at that, not able to express how heartbreaking it is for him to call you that, for him to be so soft when you know all he wants is just a good fuck.

"please talk to me sugar, i'm gettin real nervous." he mutters and that's enough for you to look up at him through tear blurred eyes. he's gnawing on his kiss-bruised lip, looking like he might cry himself.

you shake your head, sitting up slightly on your elbows and rubbing at your eyes as his shirt on your frame falls over your bare thighs.

"i'm sorry, i'm just - i'm just scared." you mutter, hands shaking. richie's looking at you with wide eyes, propped on his elbow above you. "scared of what?" he asks and you let out a quick, tearful and defeated sigh. "i don't want to make you hate me more. i just - i'm scared because i think i h- i think i have feelings for you. and i’m scared." you mumble it and you watch as his face contorts.

you feel sick for one moment when he looks stoic, and you think he may just do the job for you and kick you out.

but then he smiles a genuine, beautiful smile and you're once again reminded of his unique and beautiful features and you think of how stupid you've been not to see what's been in front of you all this time. the thought makes tears fall from your eyes.

"y/n, doll, i don't... i don’t think you have to be afraid." he says with a shake of his head, sounding slightly nervous himself. you look at him, your heart skipping as he looks back at you, the most serious he's ever been.

"what?" you mutter with wide eyes, trying not to get too excited. he shakes his head, looking just as nervous as you felt, his own eyes welled with unshed tears.

"-i think about you all the time. i don't know why, i can't understand my attraction to you, but it's there. you've got me. and it sucks, because you're insufferable." he admits.

you're so relieved you could fly. something snaps in your chest and you laugh lightly, hand falling onto his cheek to rub his jaw. "what makes you so high up on your horse? you're awful. and how do you think i feel, thinking about you all the time? its disgusting, rich." you say through a watery smile. he returns that same smile and he chuckles, almost as if in disbelief.

he says nothing, instead just kisses you, which you return happily. he slips his tongue against your lip and you feel that the fire is still there - and as you part your lips and he kisses you harder, tongue slipping through your lips, you groan.

he pulls away and kisses a trail down to your neck, his hips now rocking slowly into you and making you moan lightly. "you're so fucking beautiful." he mutters into your neck and butterflies flutter in your stomach. you're throbbing in need as he moves against you but he pulls back to smile at you softly. "do you trust me?" he asks with a grin. you lift a playful brow at him, "i know i shouldn't, but i kind of do."

and with that, he leans down so that he can kiss down your chest and rubbing his hands over your bare legs. you watch him until you realize his intention and your stomach swirls with butterflies. "richie, your parents are downstairs. we don't have time" you whisper bashfully, biting back a moan as he lifts up your shirt and kisses your bare stomach.

"they won't bother us." he says dismissively and you're about to argue but he's slowly placing a thumb against your neglected clit and rubbing gently. it feels incredible and you moan right into the shell of his ear as he slowly moves his finger pad.

he leans back with a grin and you mutter, "okay, rich. if you say so." and then you slip your shirt off and he sits back, pulling his own shirt off. "let me see all of you, baby. i finally get you all to myself." he mutters, rubbing your bare hips. his words send a different kind of shiver down your spine and you smile bashfully, unclipping your bra so that you're splayed out fully naked beneath him.

"shit, doll." he mutters, eyes raking over your heaving chest and down the swell of your stomach and hips and to your legs, his fingers softly trailing after his eyes. "how could i ever hate you?"

you sock him lightly on the shoulder and he laughs quietly, shaking his head. his curls flop on his forehead and you feel that tickle in your chest again so you pull him down to your lips, falling back onto his mattress.

he wastes no time, kissing down your stomach and looking up to you, pulling your legs and draping them over his shoulders. "you want me to taste you, baby?" he asks, mischievous glint in his eyes. you let out a stuttering breath, too aroused to roll your eyes. "please, richie." you whisper, running your fingers through his curls.

he watches you as his tongue sticks out, licking a stripe up your pussy before swirling on your clit, making you gasp in pleasure.

the feeling is sharp and pleasant as he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks lightly, tongue running over your folds. his hands move to hold your thighs as he delves in, your moans quieting as the pleasure increases because you're worried his parents might hear.

his mouth moves on you expertly, his tongue sliding to fuck up into you and making your hips buck, his nose brushing against your clit. you tug on his hair and he groans, sending vibrations through your body that make your toes curl.

its soft as he rubs your stomach, his tongue working you so well that within a few minutes, you know you’re already about to cum.

reaching to cup your face, his thumb presses against your lips and you kiss it softly, making smirk in between your thighs as he kitten licks your clit and draws a gasp from your lips. "rich, oh my god, i'm so close." you sigh out, overwhelmed by how good you feel, by the pleasure coursing through you and the affection for the boy you're with.

he just holds you tighter to his face, lapping your juices up and flicking against your clit before sucking, your thighs tightening. "richie, please, i'm gonna-" and but yourself off with a high moan, hand covering your mouth as you hit your high.

you cum on his tongue, legs shaking as you ride out the first orgasm you'd ever gotten from anyone's mouth and your fingers comb through his hair. "rich, fuck." you mutter in bliss as you come down from your high, full of affection and need.

"you liked that, huh sugar?" he says with a grin as he rises back up to kiss you. you roll your eyes with a small smile, "shut up." you say lightly.

you're still sensitive as you pull him to line up at your entrance. he presses a soft kiss to your lips and you blush, tasting yourself on him. "you sure, baby?" he mutters, and you nod. "yes, richie. please."

and he finally pushes himself in again, this time easing in slowly and kissing you sweetly. your hands play with his curls as he fills you and you moan when he's finally buried to the hilt, still sensitive enough that you clench tightly around him. his hand snakes to pin yours above your head and he holds onto it, keeping you in his hand as he starts to pump into you.

this time it's much slower and with much more intention as he thrusts into you, the first minute moving in very shallow thrusts until you start moving your hips against his in need.

he picks up the pace then and it makes you grasp his shoulder as he thrusts into you, hitting a new angle that makes you let out whimpers every few moments. the feeling of richie stretching you out slowly and hitting a place deep inside you that you didn't realize you needed makes you smile into his kiss.

“look at you, sugar. fuck, you’re so pretty taking my cock like this. god.” he mutters, moaning as he fucks you.

his hand is still holding yours. "you're so amazing." he mutters into your ear, "taking me so well, baby. so good for me." he says, kissing your ear and you whine, dragging your nails down his back in pleasure.

"all mine. i get you all for myself, huh?" he says as he thrusts into you at a passionately slow pace, your hands holding on to his shoulders as you hook your ankles around his hips. "yes, fuck, rich. all yours," you mumble, feeling your second orgasm coming on and chasing it as much as you can.

"please, you feel so good." you beg, unsure what you're asking for but knowing that richie will satisfy it. his hands fall to your hips, "i'm close, sugar." he mutters and he thrusts a bit harder, hitting a spot inside you that has you keening loudly. he chuckles, kissing you and muttering, "shh, sweetheart, we have to be quiet."

you nod, eyes closing as he thrusts into you, one hand slipping up to roll your nipple softly and making you moan his name. as he sucks a hickey on to your neck, his thrusts begin to get sloppy and you clench around him. “god, you were made for me, baby. fuck, takin’ it so well.”

you hit your second orgasm and you softly bite into richie's shoulder, his own moan at the feeling of you clenching around him making you turn red. you feel his hips stutter and he groans as he releases inside of you.

waves of pleasure course through your body and you shake with exhaustion, a blissful feeling coming over you as richie rides out both of your highs, chest pressed against yours and breathing your name into your neck.

he pulls out of you slowly, rubbing your stomach as he kisses you and rolls onto his mattress next to you. you stare at each other and you know you must look like a mess - your hair is still slightly damp from the water, your freshly washed skin is now sticky with sweat, and your face has tear tracks on it, and yet richie mumbles, "you're fuckin' stunning, y/l/n. it’s insane."

you turn red and chuckle, "you're pretty fucking incredible yourself, tozier." he smiles at you, pulling you closer. his fingers dance along your skin and you squirm as he mutters, "no, that's all you, toots."

his fingers, you now realize, are deliberately tickling you, and you let out a few winded laughs, swatting at his hands as the sensation of him on your skin has you giggling.

"y/n! why are you laughing so much?” he asks, but he's releasing little laughs himself, his breath hitting your skin. you can't help the screams of laughter, knowing his parents downstairs can hear you.

"stop, richie, st-stop!" you mutter as his long fingers tickle your sides. "i'm not doing anything!" he mutters through a chuckle. his eyes are soft as he stops his motions and just stares at you, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

he sighs, looking happy, "god, please be mine. i think i'll die if i can't do this with you forever."

your heart swells at the words and you blush, your hands falling onto his cheeks. "of course i will, rich." you mumble, kissing him soundly. his arms encircle your waist and he pulls you towards him, kissing you back lovingly as he pinches your ass cheek lightly. you pull back with a small giggle, "rich!"

he shrugs with a smug smirk and you wack his arm lightly, "you're a real rude boy, you know." you tease, and he shrugs, "you seem to like it." with that, he kisses you softly.

and yeah, you definitely do.

#richie tozier x reader #richie tozier smut #we simp for richie every day #losers x reader #bill denbrough smut #stanley uris smut #eddie kaspbrak smut #losers club x reader

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dragqueenpentheus · 3 years

Text

Okay no one has to read this but i DO have to write it:

PYROC VS FATHER PAUL

Ya bitch needs an art break bc im getting angry about voices existing as i try to keep myself entertained. Today is NOT a god one for sinking into repetitive line work and that’s just about all i have on the table atm

SO! Im gunna do a little thinking about my little meow meows all fucked up by religion. Just a comparison for my sanity and interests. Pyroc is my baby i wrote him for the first time years ago. Five?????????? Whadda hell. Going on six.

ANYWAY john joined religion because of his trauma. His sister died and he felt lost. He was unmoored in this fishing village and looking for reason looking for hope. Hed had his heart broken and trying to make sense of tragedy on his own was totally beyond him. Thats why his interactions with riley in AA are SO good like. He knows that confusion and he knows the rhetoric that’s supposed to combat it. Only it dooesnt work for riley.

The same sort of thing happens for pyrc, only inverted. Loss urns him away from god and religion because its SO strong in his family and not only is he loosing trust in god, but his kin as well. He’s suspicious there’s mre they arent telling him, at the point of his fathers death. And he agrees to, on the surface, absolutely wholly throw himself in to being the second the family and the village need. But he’s keeping his treachery under wraps.

That’s one of the coolest things about father paul imo is like. That slow unraveling of what is. Frankly. An awful half assed plan, driven by fear and loneliness and desperation and dementia and love. Even VERY obvious things like. Taking down the newspaper photo of his young self ‘slip’ by him. I think, on some level, its DEEPLY intentional. He wants people to CHOOSE this. He wants people like bev. He wants people who see him and are in aw of him beating god. Of killing death. He wants to be worshiped and adored and for people to come to him willingly, no tragedy driving them to his arms.

Pyroc also wnats to be worshipped, but he ALSO wants to do the worshipping. He really longs for an element of almost????? But not quite??? Subjection?? He wants to be shown something and for a Great Voice to tell him, unquestioningly and unerringly that it is GOOD. Full stop. And then he wants to spend his life worshipping it. But this booko is an exploration of how….. no such thing exists. And more importantly no great voice exists either. There is nothing wholly good, nothing wholy evil. His lack of faith in himself once he becomes god is him starting to understand that as well. Thats on purpose baked into the lore. The starting point was ‘what if god was a position and in order to get promoted you had to be a murderer. No matter what’. He understands things are not wholly good, at that point. I onder how long it will be for him to realize they are not fully evil as well?

Bc pruitt does hm hm hm an interesting move. Where he takes something the narritve is very sure to communicate is EVIL no wiggle room just fact. Even if its driven by animal instinct its. Evil. And he makes it, not just good, but HOLY. And god i LOVEEEE that for him i ADOREEE that what a MOVE. Driven by desperation and dementia and relief and ‘if god saved me than maybe i can be good despite loving and sinning and maybe if i defeat god then i will be Thee Good’. SO sexy of him. Im really fascinated by his morality. He seems to have an understanding of the shades of grey in some respects??? But if he had a BETTER one with more forgiveness in his heart i feel like hed have left the church anyway after sarah was born??? Even if millie didnt ask him??? That might just be my own sensibilities creeping in but ….. like he culd have seen her on the weekends. He can do other jobs. Hes straight (??? Not totally convinced of this) he could have just dated her that makes me crazy. LIKE OBV HE HAD LINES HE THOUGHT THAT WOULD CROSS AND HE HAD INTERNALIZED THE CHURCH AND THE RULES AND SHE WAS MARRIED AND ECT ECT i know he couldnt have really but. Thye were straight. They coulda.

Im not gunna do fantasy homophobia bc i think its …………….. Boring. But i think some element of??? The vindlegaurd line MUST be passed along and for that particular rules must be applied. But thats also boring as hell :/ maybe i can work in my parthenogenesis lore?????????? I bet pyroc would love building that spell in any universe. That’s the sequal when he goes to magic university in helsin. But yeah i do like the concept that. Anyone can have a baby thru magic its just a time and energy commitment. Just a matter of wanting it enough together. Every baby is so deeply wanted and its mere existence is proof. Thats dope i love that. HMMM to be decided at a later date when im deeper into the story i think. I still havent figured out fully how and where and why orion is going to be invovled and if???? Pyroc and orion are even going to be romantic??????? Im torn im TORn…….

Thikns about john bonding w sarah over science and learning and starts wEEPING…. Like theres some surity beloved. Its just a matter of uncovering. I think sarah felt that same thirst for answers and hunted them differently. Her faith is in logic and science. I loveeee her god. Every scene w her and her dad absolutely RUIN me like!!!!!! SHE DOESNT KNOW!!! SHE DOESNT KNOW HOW LOVED SHE IS!!!!!! I hope at hte very end she saw the blood as the gesture of love it SO clearly was and not him trying to poison her. God i love that she spat it out. GOD. Thats about being gay, btw. Spits the religious offering that could save you across the gasoline soaked church floor like BABE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I think we as a collective should talk about the possibiites around sarah/erin more. Bc their defiance combined would be. Earth SHATTERING for crockett.

In the future pyroc gets a kid. Ever since that campaign where Enemy ended up playing his daughter im like. How did i NOT know this idiot wanted nothing more in the entire world than to travel it with his daughter. I dont care how or why hes getting a kid. Hed be so doting and awful abut it. He would need orion as a co-parent for the kids self esteem to be normal levels. thINKS ABOUT PAUL GETTING TO RAISE SARAH AND JUST ABSOLUTELY GASSING HER UPPPPPPPP HANGING EVERY DOODLE SHE EVER MADE ON TEH FRIDGE. BOASTING ABOUT HER SCEINECE PROJECT OT ANYONE WITHIN EYESIGHT EVEN THOUGH ‘WE K N O W JOHNWE WERE ALL AT THE SCEINCE FAIR’!!!!!!!!!!! Let these fuck ups be doting fathers im fucking begging. That scene where paul is like. You take ccare of everyone on the island sarah. Its more than being a doctor. You comfort them.

HM HM comfort is such a thing for Miss Bitch like!! He sees it as a Good Thing. He tries to bring it for riley by asking to hold the AA meetings on island ((also manipulation. Obvously also manipulation. I wouldnt have bene shocked if he was slipping the vampire blood into the coffee every meeting either. But thats just a theory. A game theory.)) ANYWAY he sees comfort as hly. The church gave it to him when he needed it. The angel gave it to him in the cave. Feeling safe and warm is HIGH on his list of priorities and what makes him hand over respect.

I think pyroc has lived a very comfortable life in SO many ways, but in none he. Activly recognizes. A key part of his character arc his him…. Opening his eyes to the world around them. Seeing the privilege he has and being like. Wait. This isnt Right. We have to change thi. And when no one agrees ti shifts to I have to change this. With Violence. A little revolutionary <3 it only costs the life of his whole ass family

Thats more fun comparison ground like…… paul is SO much about I know whats right and there is a cost but i AM ignoring it. Like HE KNOOOOWSSSS he knooooows he just doesnt want o See. I’m not sure if im going to surprise yroc with the ……megadeath of. His whole family. Or if it’s a choice he has to activly make. I think a choice makes it more compelling, more layerd. It has to be in the moment though, becaus ei think thats. A key difference between them. Pyroc wouldnt do it.. hed just leave hed peace out and do what he could in small ways. But he wouldnt do his big stand off with god. Hed shrink his goals in order to not hurt his family. Out of love?? Intimidation?? Some instinct wihtin him that balks at the idea of disobedience??? I think even he doesnt know. But i LOVE john becaue he jsut decides to lie. He closes his eyes and says i am being stupid on purpose. I think thats PERHAPS more compelling than good guy coward pyroc BUT!!!!! Thats who he is rip to ths little man. Cant change him now hes a whole ass child in my head. The PLOT i can change. Him….. not without massive character development <3

UGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MM set my brain on FIRE!!!! Im so glad nano is coming up. I love sharpening pyroc against the comparison of other AMAZING characters. Father paul hill my beloved millstone <3 anyway sorry to anyone who reads this its literally me unhinging my jaw and emptying my brain out. I had to write stuff that wasn’t novel or fic. A little character time down and dirty. I wil NOT be editing this love and light to future me trying to decode this

#1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #pyroc #midnight mass

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kumoriyami-xiuzhen · 4 years

Text

Hakuouki Yuugiroku 3 Short Episode “Very Similar”

This translation is from the 3rd Yuugiroku game “Hakuoki Yuugiroku - Taishitachi no Daienkai,” and I will not be referring to it as such since it’s too much of a hassle to copy/paste/look up the title every time plus I reserve the right to be lazy since I don’t see anyone else translating anything from this game! xD lol... as such, this why I will only be tagging this under ‘Yuugiroku 3.’

ANYWAY.

when i was taking a break from filling up my queue with ssl stuff, i ended up translating this for some reason. lol. should probably have done something from kyoka-roku since there’s still that rain scenario stuff and the other char povs to do, but since i have translations for about 95% of this game (not counting yuugiroku 1 [have a patched psp iso file but I don’t care to learn how to extract text from it as i’m lazy] and 2 [have various tl for this... very unorganized plus some of it is incomplete] which are bundled onto this vita game), i figured that it didn’t matter if i got a tiny head-start. The only thing I can’t translate/have no translations for from this game is the section that has no text where the guys comment on various drinks or something (can’t remember what they are aside from sake cuz i distinctly remember Saito saying something about sake and tofu lol), and the misc dialogue that occurs when you select something in the menu or during the mini-games.

In regards to this content, I think this was in what was referred to as the “Appreciation section” [not sure+too lazy to check jp mtl], though the translation of the text on the right on the first image below the cut is ‘episode’ in Chinese so I will be labelling this as such... There are a total of 9 in these in the game.

all images used in this post are my screenshots aside from the game box art (this is the limited ed bonus version). do not repost elsewhere.

enjoy~

Hakuouki Yuugiroku Taishitachi no Daienkai - Episode “Very Similar”

Translation by KumoriYami

Characters [text on bottom left]: Hijikata, Okita, Sakamoto

Hijikata: Ah, I'm back.

Sakamoto: Yo Hijikata, I've come to visit.

Hijikata: ...! You are Sakamoto! What are you doing here!

Souji: We were just talking about HIjikata-san.

Hijikata: Me?

Sakamoto: Yeah! You and I were born in the 6th year of Tenpō [天保], really what a coincidence!

Hijikata: What nonsense, weren't there a lot of people born in that year?

Souji: That's not all, Sakamoto-san is also the youngest son of a rich family.

It's no wonder why [these] two [have] faces that looked completely spoiled by everyone and the world around them.

Hijikatta: Are you qualified to tell me that?

I suffered a lot during those days/years [the actual word used is "years" but the phrase used can mean either "in those days", "during that time", and "in those years"].

Sakamoto: That's right, have you tried being a merchant?

If you're capable of doing that, you should go and open and up your own store. [theres no damn pronoun subject in this sentence but based on jp mtl and context, im assuming he's telling souji off]

Souji: Hijikatasan, you opened a store/ran a store? With his temper? That's not the way to joke [That's not something to joke about/That's a bad joke?].

Hijikata: Shut up! I also didn't think that suitable for me to do.

Sakamoto: After your parents also died early. [Weren't you] raised by your eldest sister who is [now the] closest to you too? Actually, that's another a coincidence!

Souji: Eh, it is like that. I was also left with my elder sister after my parents died early.

Sakamoto: Oh, then you were also brought up by your elder sister!

Souji: I don't remember so who knows.

Sakamoto: You don't remember....... you can't remember your own sister?

Souji: Mah, it's more complicated for me.

Sakamoto: (whispered) Although I don't understand that, it's better to not ask questions.

Hijikatta: (whispers) Yeah, the exterior of this guy is [already] super troublesome.

Souji: By the way, doesn't Sakamoto-san have a friend who is sick and bedridden?

Sakamotto: Ah you're talking about Takasugi?

That guy is bedridden [literally: 'to fall gravely ill, never to recover' (idiom)] because of tuberculosis.

Hijikata: Tuberculosis....... it's said to be an incurable disease, [we?] should go and meet him while he's still alive.

Souji: Hm....... There are similarities even in this aspect?

Hijikata: What did you say?

Souji: Nothing, just thinking aloud.

(”art” cg)

Hijikata: That reminds me, this morning you drew on my face while I was asleep!

Souji: I obviously used prepared ink, [so] I don't know how you managed to remove it.

Hijikata: I was desperately worked to get it off! It would have been a disaster if I didn't leave without checking a mirror!

Souji: It would be better to have all the mirrors inside headquarters hidden away next time I draw.

Hijikata: Souji, you.......!

Sakamoto: I don't know if the relationship between you is good or bad.

I've heard that the Shinsengumi rules and ranks are well respected [maintained/adhered to.. i guess?].

But this doesn't look it's harsh to a deranged degree.

Souji: that's right, even though Hijikata-san looks like this, he's a very tolerant person.

(cg 2)

Hijikata: Hmph, it's annoying how you say whatever comes to mind [say whatever you please].

Souji: I'm serious, I truly respect Hijikata-san.

Hijkata: Shut up. If you're going to be making stupid comments, hurry up and leave with Sakamoto. I have documents I need to write!

Sakamoto: What? It wasn't easy for me to come/I finally managed to come [yet] you're so cold and detached.

Souji: Hijikata-san is such a person, but as he says, we should go. Ah by the way Sakamoto-san, are you able to write haiku?

Sakamoto: Oh? I'm only able to write basic phrases at the level of an ordinary person [I can only write basic phrases].

Souji: I have a lovely book of haiku, would you like to take a look?

(oni cg with horns + sound of thunder)

Hijikata: You stole my haiku collection again! I will absolutely not be letting you off today!

--------------------

did this in june lol.

i do like these short stories... not that yuugiroku 3 has any real plot to speak of, though i have no idea when I’ll translate another of these or anything from this game again for that matter since i still got ssl and ginsei no shou to work on.

#hakuoki #hakuouki #Hakuoki Game Translation #Hakuoki Yuugiroku 3 #Hijikata Toshizou #Okita Souji #sakamoto ryouma

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felicityfiction · 4 years

Text

i listened to taylor swift and wanted to write a thing. woosang from ateez because their friendship is so precious!! this was written in like an hour. the grammar is bad and the tenses are alll over the place and theres nothing even resembling STRUCTURE but it’s 3am and i needed catharsis!

Wooyoung realises. Maybe a little bit too late.

the classic childhood best friends trope that i love because i think that the best kind of love develops slowly, and not all at once.

“The last time you saw me is still burned in the back of your mind”

Wooyoung glared at his phone, desperately wringing his hands together. pick up, pick up. fuck

the call went to voicemail. wooyoung dropped his face into his hands, pressing his palms into his eyes as hard as he could, breathing turning ragged. where are you where are you come back

he knew he had no right to demand anything at this point. this was his fault. but an eerily silent group chat sent chills down the back of his spine and left regret clawing at the back of his throat. i didn’t mean it.

he waited for a moment, then picked up his phone from the table. he scrolled down to his latest chat, rereading the messages that had already imprinted themselves onto the back of his eyelids, haunting him, taunting him.

me: god, san, please. just tell me where he is, if he’s alright.

san: it’s not my place to say anything. i can’t speak for him.

me: that’s bullshit. he’s avoiding me, not you. not all of you.

san: not the point

me: none of you are on my side.

san: how can we be? did you hear yourself last night, woo?

me: i get it i fucking get it. i was an asshole. i’m trying to make it right

san: i don’t know that you can.

the scene blazed across wooyoung’s memory, hot and painful. it was all clenched fists, parted lips and wide eyes full of-

of what, he didn’t even know. a mix of sadness, disappointment and regret.

the worst part was the lack of anger. his best friend had a temper shorter than anyone else he had ever met, but anger was easy. anger could be dispelled with time, breathing, and wooyoung’s self proclaimed irresistible charm.

wooyoung got scared when he saw emotions he didn’t recognise, not even after 10 years of friendship.

and because wooyoung was a coward, he pretended that he couldn’t see, and let his best friend walk out his front door to god knows where. that was a week ago. and in the span of that week, wooyoung spiralled. he was grasping at straws, trying to fix the situation.

nothing worked. his best friend had wiped himself off social media and gone radio silent on every messaging app. the number that he memorised like the back of his hand went straight to voicemail, every single time. the worst part was his house. it felt cold and barren, without the familiar voice trailing from the living room when wooyoung woke up.

wooyoung was missing something that he didn’t know he had.

—

“you gave me all your love and all i gave you was goodbye”

love.

wooyoung believed in love just as much as the next person. he was a clingy extrovert who thrived off attention. he had grown up with hugs and kisses from his mom, the occasional girlfriend, and hoards of his classmates in school that vied for his attention. jung wooyoung was the epitome of lovable.

jung wooyoung didn’t know how to love.

rather, he didn’t understand that love came in different forms. love could come from the most withdrawn, silent individual. you just needed to know where to look, beyond the physical affection and vocal admiration.

jung wooyoung couldn’t sense it.

not in the “tell me about your day” that always popped up when he ended dance practice at 8pm, exhausted and cranky but always ready to complain about every single thing that had ticked him off.

not in the magical cups of coffee that appeared on his school desk the day of exams, sometimes with a little post it note. “you got this”

not in the silent presence that was by his side watching him play video games with someone else. the presence that worked mutely in his kitchen, greeting wooyoung with a dinner that he never asked for, but was somehow always what he wanted. the presence that never uttered anything to ask for wooyoung’s attention, seemingly content with just being next to him.

jung wooyoung was a fool.

buried under his covers, he clamped his hands against his ears, pressing as hard as he could,as if he could drown out his own voice sounding in his mind.

are you out of your mind? he heard himself say, over and over again. this isn’t a good prank, man.

then silence. the silence that was always comfortable and reliable, suddenly turned suffocating and tense. it was as if a barrier had erected itself between him and the person he thought he knew like the back of his hand

again, those eyes. the eyes that conveyed everything his impassive face didn’t. shining with mirth when wooyoung lost a game, dripping with fondness when wooyoung danced on stage,blazing with irritation as he shoved wooyoung away from him if he was disturbing his studying.

blank, distant eyes. wooyoung felt his stomach drop, the same sensation that he felt

at that very moment, like he lost something very important that he couldn’t get back.

—

“so this is me swallowing my pride, standing in front of you saying i’m sorry for that night.”

wooyoung had had enough. all his friends wouldn’t give him a straight answer to a very simple where is he?

wooyoung was nothing if not stubborn. he was going to find him, and fix everything. he didn’t know how, but he was going to do it.

frankly, it was almost a miracle that they hadn’t seen each other in two weeks, not even by accident. it was like he was going out of his way to avoid the places in campus that he knew wooyoung was going to be at, as if he memorised wooyoung’s timetable and classes and oh

he memorised wooyoung’s timetable, classes and practices. wooyoung stilled, feet stopping beside an empty classroom as he stared blankly at the empty hallway in front of him. classes were starting, and wooyoung was supposed to be in his European History lecture, but he literally could not care less about world war 2 at this moment.

how had he never noticed?

he was always slouched against a locker when wooyoung ended a 6pm economics lecture, whining for food and sleep. always outside the dance practice room hidden in a far block on campus at 10pm on fridays and sundays, with a bottle of water and wooyoung’s favourite ice cream. he always knew when wooyoung’s exams were, and made it a point to appear after every paper, ready to take wooyoung out for chicken. as a celebration if he did well, as a consolation if wooyoung was ready to burst into tears.

always there,without fail. it was the perfect summary of their friendship for the past decade,really.

and wooyoung would be damned if he let that slip through his fingers.

walking with a flame of newfound determination, he wandered through the school until he arrived outside the science labs. as an Arts student, he was never here. perhaps because he was never the one waiting. never reciprocating.

but the large white doors of the biology labs seemed daunting to him, even as he came to a halt in front of one with a plaque reading “anatomy lab”.

anatomy practical, 5pm. block D, level 3.

that was what he found after searching up the timetable of the medical students in his year.

the clock ticked closer to 630pm, when the class would be released. wooyoung tried to use the remaining moments to compose himself. he wasn’t going to throw a tantrum, he was here to apologise. he couldn’t start with why the fuck have you not talked to me in two weeks you bastard.

he wasn’t the bastard. wooyoung was. he was prepared to start with hey, i’m sorry. can we please talk?

but then the doors swung open, and students in lab coats filed past him. some looked at him curiously, and some waved, asking about a party happening this weekend. wooyoung just nodded and smiled, chest tightening, body bracing, like he was ready to be slapped.

and a metaphorical slap had never hurt as much before.

black nike shoes screeched to a halt metres away from him. the same worn shoes that had a permanent place in the shoe rack in front of wooyoung’s door.

wooyoung was staring, and he forgot how to speak.

he couldn’t recognise the person with swollen eyes and messy hair standing in front of him. his best friend was always impeccably neat, something that wooyoung constantly teased him about.

now, he looked like he hadn’t slept in days. maybe two weeks. he looked at wooyoung as if he was going to lunge forward and sock him in the stomach.he looked at wooyoung with fear.

his lips clamped shut, while wooyoung struggled to get out the words he practiced. “i-“

he ran. wooyoung could only watch as his best friend bolted past him, barely grazing his shoulder as he fled. it still felt like a slap to the face. wooyoung was rooted to the spot, his blood felt like lead, he couldn’t move-

“if you don’t go after him, i will personally destroy you.” seonghwa glared at him, taking the place of the boy that ran, but substantially closer to wooyoung. he poked a finger into wooyoung’s chest, sighing loudly.

“he refuses to leave his house except for class. he won’t talk to anyone. he won’t go for his drone flying club or whatever the fuck he participates in. he’s broken, wooyoung, and we can’t fix him.” only you can

“fix him. fix the both of you.”

—

“if we loved again, i swear i’d love you right.”

wooyoung stood outside apartment number 4B, and his heart ached at how familiar it was. he was always welcome, but now it felt as if it was an impenetrable fortress that would swallow him whole.

he had nothing. no food, which he always used to appease his best friend’s anger. because this wasn’t anger. no prepared acts of acting cute, because this wasn’t irritation. just his heart in his hands, ready to be bared and presented. perhaps as a gift, more likely as a sacrifice. it was a sacrifice he was willing to give up.

“i know you’re in there.”

nothing

“i didn’t come here to hurt you.”

quiet.

“please.”

all he could hear was the ringing in his ears.

wooyoung breathed in once, deep. “fine. it’s okay, i’ll talk from here. i’m just banking on the fact that you’ll hear me out. it doesn’t matter if you don’t respond.”

this was the hardest thing wooyoung had ever done.

“i’m sorry. i know that’s the most useless thing to say right now, but i have to. i’m sorry i acted that way after what you said. i was being a complete idiot, and a jerk. you know i am that way, but that doesn’t excuse it. i’m really, really sorry”

breath two

“i miss you. it’s honestly been hell, these two weeks. my apartment’s a mess. all i’ve been eating is instant food, and honestly i couldn’t give a shit about all the tests we have right now. it’s always silent in there. i can’t blame all the guys for ignoring me, i deserve it, but it’s just- it’s just hard. i got used to you always being there. and it’s like i can’t function when you’re not.”

breath three

“i know i’m being selfish. i’m starting to think that i’m inherently a bad person, because even now i’m still thinking about myself. seonghwa said you haven’t left your house, that you won’t do anything. i’m sorry. fuck, i really am. you shouldn’t do all that. you shouldn’t have to suffer, you didn’t do anything wrong. i’m the one that made the mistake. so please, come back. you don’t have to come back to me, but the guys. they’re worried. so am I, but i’m past the point of deserving anything from you.”

breath 4

“i couldn’t stop thinking about that night.” wooyoung dropped his gaze, even though the door remained resolutely shut

“i know you can’t either. fuck, i messed up. i didn’t mean any of that shit, i honestly don’t know why i said that. but i’ve been thinking about it. about you. i think about you a lot.”

here goes nothing

“you’re important to me. you’ve always been, since we were dumb kids fighting over a soccer ball in the school playground. and i think i just finally realised how, how much i started to rely on you. i need you. it’s like i can’t breathe without you, and i just realised because you were always there,and i didn’t know to miss you. fuck, i miss you. “

“i’m pathetic. i don’t know how to understand you like you understand me. i don’t know why you put up with me, i’d probably get tired of myself. but you do. and i-“

wooyoung struggled to get his bearings through the shaky breaths that come through his lips, eyes blurry. there’s so much he wants to say.

like how he finally understands the meaning behind every little action that he took for granted. how his eyes have finally opened to another way of communicating, of expressing care and concern.

i know. i know it’s your language, and i must have been fucking blind my whole life to miss it but please don’t stop talking to me i’m just starting to understand.

how he realises just how much his best friend means to him, right when he’s on the brink of losing him

“i get it now. you’ve always been too good for me. and i’m sorry it took this for me to see what was always in front of me”

wooyoung can be brave for once. wooyoung can be the one giving.

—

“and if the chain is on your door, i understand.”

three words. just three words.

“i love you.”

wooyoung shuts his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose in a bid to stop the hot tears. the door is still shut, and the silence is threatening to overwhelm him.

“i don’t expect you to accept that. i know i hurt you. but i had to come and say it. maybe this is me being selfish again.”

one last breath.

“but i swear on everything we’ve ever promised over the past 10 years. i mean it. yeosang, if you can hear me, i love you. i should’ve said it back that night, i don’t know why i didn’t, because now i look back and i think i must have loved you from the start.”

wooyoung blinked rapidly, and tilts his head upright to start at the block of mahogany in front of him.

“if you’re out of your mind, then i am too.” a wry smile found its way onto his lips as his mind replays a decade of laughter and memories, bitterly juxtaposed against the crippling loneliness and fear he feels right now. he’s going to walk away, and his best friend isn’t going to chase him.

“i’m gonna go now. i’m sorry, yeo. i won’t blame you for not believing me.”

—

but apparently jung wooyoung still doesn’t understand kang yeosang.

kang yeosang has never been able to push wooyoung away. not when they were 10, and definitely not when they’re 20.

someone grabbed the hood of his sweatshirt and yanked him back harshly. wooyoung stumbled, and his heart flipped in his chest. before he can comprehend anything, he’s being pinned against the mahogany door, but on the other side.

wooyoung loves yeosang’s eyes, because they burn with an intensity that is incomparable to anything else. wooyoung is still crying.

“if there’s one thing i hate about myself, it’s that i don’t know how to not love you, jung wooyoung.”

wooyoung thinks that he finally, finally, comprehends everything as yeosang crushes their bodies together in a semblance of a hug. but it’s tinged with desperation, and years of unspoken words and hidden actions. it’s the physical representation of please don’t leave me.

jung wooyoung is a fool. but he’s starting to learn.

lesson number 1: he’s in love with kang yeosang.

#ateez #fanfiction #woosang #wooyoung #yeosang #college au #friends to lovers #kpop #fanfic #its a mess

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little-shiny-sharpies · 3 years

Note

2, 5 and 12 with blitzwing 👀 and 7 for mccree! (@robotlover)

@selfshippinglover

Ok I'm gonna make a separate post for Mccree later bc theres a lot and I'm just gonna do a few with him. Thank y'all for waiting on this!

1) what’s a Hot Take you have about your f/o?

Blitzwing would absolutely hesitate to love someone because he has self esteem issues and everyone always throws that out the window when writing him in a romantic scenario. Only when he's the character that's gotta be uwu depressed and romanticizing it is anyone noticing that. This bot has gone through a horror show and he would feel like a burden to whoever he has feelings for because he's just the crazy triple changer that no one respects or likes.

2) on what do you disagree with other fans of your f/o?

Ok this is a bit lemony for my blog but Blitzwing isn't a sex crazed power top and y'all need to get that through your minds, he's Ace or Demi. Yes I'm projecting but I'm still right bc giant alien robots canon don't have that "equipment" boo me all you want I'm still right.

3) did you used to ship your f/o with anyone before realizing you wanted to ship them with yourself?

No actually! I have honestly never actually like.. shipped characters that weren't cannon. I've rarely liked romance in media. I have faint memories of shipping Fluttercord though..

4) do you feel like you have to defend your f/o all the time?

I feel like most folks project so much onto him theres nothing left but on the other end there's folks who just made the stupidest things of how he's an uwu feral boi and I wanna yell underwater. There are a few things I agree with fanon about but those are very few things.

5) what’s the dumbest thing you’ve heard about your f/o, either on the internet or irl?

The dumbest thing I've seen in canon and fannon is that he's an idiot. That just doesn't make sense?? He's shown to be a really smart guy in his first episodes even getting Ratchet into a chokehold forcing the autobots into a standstill until Megs calls him off. (Idiot move there boi)

6) what are some tropes that fan art of your f/o tends to follow?

That his "personalities" have separate bodies and bicker with each other. Which.. doesn't really make sense. If anything he'd be happy to have someone who understands him.

7) did your f/o deserve better?

He got used in an experiment that caused him severe psychological trauma and we don't even know if he was a willing patient. He was a deadly opponent in the first season that got nerfed into a henchman buffoon and shit talked anytime someone brought him up. My man was treated as a trophy in his final scenes to further the political career of an authoritarian xenophobic jerkwad. My mans deserved so much better..

8) do you even like the source your f/o comes from or do you only watch it for them & nothing else?

Oh I absolutely love Transformers animated!! It has such a unique personality compared to other iterations and it has the smartest megatron. Its also the show that got me into transformers (other than the first bay movies which I like much less)

9) do you distance yourself from other fans of your f/o or their source?

In the beginning? No. I was completely fine with all the weird fannon interpretation and ships (and we'll fucking get to that) but I didn't think about it. Nowadays I stay away from anybody that draws blitzwing because if I go to their blog to see more, it turns out they've got 20 other posts tagged as bli***ee or interact with those who do or don't bother tagging ns//fw things

10) how did you feel when you realized “oh of course i had to like That Character”?

(Ok so I didn't really understand this one so I kinda gave 2 answers)

It was when I realized that he had the same emotional issues as me. Having BPD and living with folks with BPD is quite a rollercoaster but I saw so much of me in blitzwing I just wanted to be his friend at first and chill and then the emotions got so much deeper and now I've made fankids and we're happily married ksjdaksj.

But when I realized that he had the traits of the 3 main tumblr sexymen I had a "oh no, people are gonna be weird about him aren't they?.." moment but my heart was set anyway.

11) do you think it’s better to have a copious amount of content for your f/o, even with the risk of finding a lot of ship art, or better to have a lot less?

Oh god this is a tricky one because either 1 when the art isn't a ship and just him he's looking sad or bored or he's insane and never a nice wholesome happy or 2 its ship art. So uh ima say quality over quantity.

12) aren’t you tired of being nice? this is an excuse to rant.

LET'S FUCKING GOOOO!! Listen. LISTEN. I get loving Blitzwing. I fully get it. I also understand having a childhood crush on Bumblebee. Because I had that, as a *child*. Because Bumblebee behaved like a child. Because as a child. I enjoyed his antics. See where I'm going here? It's not that I don't like seeing Blitzwing shipped with other characters! Its really not! It squicks me a bit but it's totally ok! It's the fact that it's with a character who's supposed to be a little brother to the bots and the same age as Sari! Really any ship with Bumblebee or Sari feels very fucking *Yikes*. Not to mention the fact that it's always painted Blitzwing as someone to be fixed, someone who needs to change who they are to fit the wants of someone who showed them the slightest iota of kindness that he's so desperate for and that said person is an irresponsible child that could rival Blue from Fosters Home for Imaginary Friends, or it treats him like a beast that should be controlled by said child. It feels so ableist at best and pedophilia at worst and I'm so upset that more folks don't see it.

(Also want to add that the person who popularized the ship is known to draw porn of underage characters. Ya'll really love rose glasses to hide those red flags for the sake of "good" art huh?)

#shiny speaks #blitzwing #rant #self shipping #self ship #self insert #W O W ok that took so long #let me know if you need something tagged bc i know there's some serious stuff here #dont wanna squick anyone

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astheskycries · 4 years

Text

Protected- Chapter Three

When Maggie agreed to help her best friend finish preparing for an art exhibit, she wasn’t expecting to end up in the middle of a rough battle between Captain America and a shooter. She also didn’t expect to be considered a target because he saved her life and to be hunted by HYDRA agents for her involvement. Now her life is in the hands of a perfect soldier… and so is her heart.

One Two

I slowly pace the room, once again bored out of my mind. I think I’ve been in here for two days now, and nothing has happened. Sometimes a worker will come in and give me food, always around the same time, but no one stays long enough for me to say anything other than thank you.

Letting out a small sigh, I stop and take a long look at the door. Steve told me someone would talk to me, but I have yet to hear anything. I bite my lip nervously and inch towards the door, lifting a shaky hand to touch the knob. No alarms go off, causing me to relax and grip the handle before shoving it open. I wait a beat, but again I don’t hear any footsteps, so I peek down the hallway before stepping out and softly closing the door behind me. I wait anxiously, unsure where I should go to get out, and then I faintly hear steady thuds coming from the right. I frown a little, moving towards the sound and going down a few hallways before pausing outside of the door, moving so I can see inside but no one should see me.

Steve Rogers is standing in a fighting stance, white shirt soaked in sweat and sticking to him as he pounds wrapped hands into a punching bag. I hold in a small breath as I watch, noticing how focused his eyes are and how he seems to be beating his frustration out of his system until the chain snaps, sending the bag smacking into the wall.

I let out a small gasp, and he stills. I quickly move and almost jog down the hallway, easily remembering where the cell is and slipping inside before anyone can see me. I move towards the bed and sit down, my mind replaying his training on repeat. Why would Captain America look so frustrated when his only problem- me- is being handled by someone else? In fact, he seemed furious. Why be so upset when he could never see me again and let HYDRA kill me?

Hold on, Maggie. I chide myself. He’s Captain America. He has more problems to deal with than a stupid girl who was in his way. Think strategically.

I release a slow breath before stilling. Why come after me to begin with? After all, he’s an Avenger. There are members of his team that would be better bait, and he was only helping me because I was a witness having an asthma attack. There’s no reason for them to come after me… unless they knew what would happen, which means they wanted me to go in.

I rise off of the cot and tug open the door, only to freeze and stare at Steve’s startled eyes. I instantly notice he’s changed into a pair of jeans and a plain black v-neck, and I fight back any interest in what he’s wearing.

“What are you doing?” I ask automatically.

His brow furrow as he frowns down at me, reminding me how much bigger than me he is. “I could ask you the same thing. Where are you going?”

I clear my throat slightly, breaking eye contact and trying not to think about what I saw. “I think you made a mistake by taking me in.”

He crosses his arms, making his muscles flex in yet another reminder of his strength. “Why do you say that?”

I force myself to meet his gaze. “There’s no benefit in attacking me. One of the other members of your team would have been better for bait. If they knew what would happen if they came after me, then they wanted you to bring me in. There has to be something behind it.”

“We know,” He says calmly, his eyes sincere. “We have our systems prepared for any attack or virus that could get any information.” He pauses, looking curious. “Why are you worried about a potential HYDRA attack?”

I shift uneasily. “It didn’t make sense to me, and you have more important things to do than to keep tabs on a civilian.”

Steve doesn’t say anything for a moment, and then he nods to my room. “May I?”

I step aside automatically, and he’s just stepped inside before I blurt, “You lied to me, Captain.”

He turns to face me, looking confused as I shut the door with my back to him. “What?”

I move to the cot, still not making eye contact. “You told me someone would speak to me, but no one has.”

Steve looks a little confused and slightly irritated. “I told my team that you needed to be debriefed, but apparently I should have told them to do it.” He releases a breath and nods once. “I’m sorry for the mistake. You shouldn’t have been left here for so long without being spoken to.”

I bite my lip nervously. “It’s fine.” I clear my throat. “Why were you outside my cell, Captain?”

“Steve,” He tugs the stool from the corner and settles in front of me. “I saw you outside of the gym and decided to check in.”

I flush a little. “Sorry,”

He shakes his head, eyes focused on mine and looking almost… warm. Maybe a little amused. “Do you know who went after you?”

I shake my head. “I remember him from when you were fighting, but I’ve never seen him before that.”

Steve nods. “What were you doing when he came after you?”

“Preparing for my class,” I say simply.

Steve tilts his head curiously. “Your class?”

I swallow a little awkwardly, not wanting to tell him what I do. He’s too interested for my liking, and if he’s only helping me because of his sense of duty, he shouldn’t know any of this. “I teach a class.”

“What do you teach?”

“Dancing,” I say automatically.

He keeps his eyes steady on mine, making me want to look away. “You’re lying.”

I look away. “I can’t dance.”

He offers a faint smile. “Neither can I. What do you teach?”

I swallow and shift self consciously. “Cooking,”

He nods thoughtfully. “You can relax, Maggie.” I meet his eyes quickly, catching his small smile. “I’m not going to attack you.”

“Do you do anything besides train the others?” I ask.

He pauses, mulling it over. “I work here,” He says finally. “I keep up with the compound and make sure everyone does what they’re supposed to.”

“I meant for fun,” I gain some of my confidence back and meet his eyes. “Everyone needs something that makes them happy.”

His lips twitch a little. “I like to cook,”

I pause. “You’re only saying that to make me feel better,”

“Wrong,” He rises, watching me with light eyes. “I cook all the time. I’m good at it too,”

I raise my eyebrows as he moves towards the door. “How do you know? Has anyone else said so?”

He turns around, and I’m surprised to see a smirk on his lips. “I’m the only one who’s had it,”

He shuts the door behind him before I can respond, and breathe out a small laugh before realizing that he managed to calm me down without even hesitating. My smile fades, and I prop my back against the wall and mentally go over everything that happened, trying to figure out how much of it was a lie.

Tags @ariallane @avengerscompound @jennylovelyheart @mewsiex @chrisevans-imagines @imagine-assembling-the-avengers @whostheblondegirl @mylittlefandomfanfictions @hannshasallthecheese @sian22redux @mycapt-ohcapt @jayded-dreams @4theluvofall @smoothdogsgirl @soulmates8 @katiew1973 @hista-girl @fay-1994 @pegasusdragontiger @domcaaa996 @dragonflare18 @mizzzpink @iamwarrenspeace @pinkleopardss @stevergxrs @ilovethings-somuch @be-amaziing @patzammit @corie-the-writer @hellohollands @ajestic @brb-theres-cookies @liza-ouat @shut-it-tinman @chameerah @giftofdreams @geeksareunique @pheonix16 @my-emotional-self @yourstateofdreaming @esoltis280 @janeyboo @ladygrey03 @see-you-again-my-sun-and-stars @marvelfan18buckybear @nerdgirljen @password123d @marvelouslyme96 @jadepc @starbuckycofee @sophster1881 @sleepylunarwolf @gazebozo-the-clown @snowflakesandkisses @shakyskit @gigiljoshler @promarvelfangirl @kimmiestrawberrykiwi @averyrogers83 @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @anaussiesblog @idontbelieveinperfect @disney-fire-fox @leanachansworld @palaiasaurus64 @whyugottabsorude @captainrogerrsbeard @guera31 @marvelismylifffe @coffeebooksandfandom @mrs-captain-evans @kirstie-evans-writes @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @southerngracela @introvertedmouse If you would like on or off the tag list please let me know

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@pitabread79 @my-drowning-in-time @a-person-unlabled

#protected #steve #steve rogers #captain america #Steve x ofc #Steve Rogers x ofc #Captain America x ofc #Steve fic #Steve fanfic #Steve fanfiction #Steve Rogers fic #Steve Rogers fanfic #Steve Rogers fanfiction

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nightmaretyrantvantas · 4 years

Text

Always being left behind in the dark

OK so heres the written continuation of my dark side au angst comic! The next comic/ art piece will be a continuation of this piece as a heads up!! Be sure to look at the comic first so this makes more sense!

Warning: Theres angst ahead, with mentions of unsympathetic virgil and minor violence( to dolls and furniture), and small emotional breakdowns and starts of panic attacks

Buckle up guys we’re going into the angst!

There was a quiet, a tense charged quiet that filled the large bedroom. The room was dark, with even darker silhouettes of furniture dotting the room along with pulsing, faintly glowing purple strings strung everywhere like delicate stitching in fabric. It just barely illuminated the mess, the thrown aside knick knacks and trinkets, the papers scattered everywhere like a tornado had run through. It showed the trashed shelves and slashes in the table and couch and dresser, some even barely visible on the wall.

And there he was in the center, body tense and shaking. Shadow limbs trembled as they protruded from his back, long dark and spindly and gently entangling in the strings.

Virgil panted hard, hands still pressed harshly to his eyes to dry the small trickle of tears that slipped down his cheeks and gritted his teeth.

“ aaaaaaaaAuUuUuUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGH!!”

The room around him seemed to twitch and shudder with his enraged, pained deepened scream, strings pulsing from the emotion. As the sound slowly faded he slowly let his hands drop, two sets of glowing eyes locked on the now damanged dolls, watching the stuffing leak from the slashes with an unnatural amount of intensity. He body shook more and tears burned again as he stared at the four dolls, wrapped in string but still sitting on one of the few untouched shelves.

“ Why....why does this always happen....” His voice teetered with emotions he hadnt shown in years. Emotions he hadnt allowed himself to feel since Roman...

Since Roman had......

His eyes flickered to the doll at the end, its half peach half yellow face slashed across just barely missing taking off its brown button eye.

And now Deceit had...

His sharp teeth gnashed together again as his hands curled into painfully tight fists as he fought the memories that tried to flash across his mind. Tried to push back and shove away the memories of deep laughs and soft smiles with crinkling red eyes, of tipped bowler hats and sly smiles and nights of comfort. His head throbbed, chest pounding with his throat constricting. Suddenly everything seemed foreign to him, nothing familiar or comforting. Virgil’s breathing picked up faster and faster and he clutched at his head with a choked scream that barely left his throat. He couldnt see he couldnt breathe and he couldnt think of anything else anyone else--

There was a crack under his feet and his knees gave out, making him sink to the carpeted floor with a soft, muted thud as he wrapped his arms around himself, shadowy limbs wrapping around him protectively as well. He screwed his leaking eyes tight and shuddered as he struggled to quell his nearly consuming panic, to slow and strengthen his breathing. It was so much more difficult without Deceit or Remus there to help him through it, to talk him out of his dark dark thoughts. But they werent here right now, for differing reasons. He struggled to ease the pain in his chest, a pain he hadnt felt since that night all those years back when he let himself crumble into Remus’s firm embrace, a pain he hadn’t experienced since he’d been cooped away in the darkest, furthest, most covered part of the imagination with Remus’s arms around him protectively and Deceits voice soothing his thoughts.

But now deceit’s part in that memory caused more pain, along with a flash of hot anger. Or maybe that heat was from the now fully flowing tears that dripped off his chin. So instead he tried to focus on the wild green side.

“ C’mon vee...just breathe with me! Lets breathe stupid breaths and the you can punch me or something to get out the anger! Now that’ll be fun right?”

As his voice floated in from his memories he curled himself into a ball, raspy breathes being forced in and out...in and out...in...and back out...

It took a lot longer than Virgil would ever want to admit, but eventually his breathing evened out into something stable and calm. But now his whole body felt heavy and numb, and despite how much he may have wanted to... Virgil couldn’t bring himself to get up. He slumped a bit, like a deflating bounce house, as the limbs vanished and the strings dulled and faded until it was like they hadn’t even been there to begin with. Virgil’s eyes, his one set of eyes, slowly lost their glow and drooped closed as he sat there trembling. All he focused on was keeping his breathing steady, nothing else around him. He was too focused to notice the sound of footsteps approaching his room, to notice the disaster his room, his safe haven, had become. He pushed away the memories back into the back of his mind, too exhausted to hurt for awhile. In its absence was resentment, a bitter nearly acidic mix of regret and contempt.

He was alone in that darkness, a darkness that had covered and comforted him through other episodes and breakdowns and tantrums like this one before. He was alone there, as he always seemed to be now. Alone...and left behind for something-for someone-better.

Left behind in the dark like an unwanted toy was the bitter comparison Virgil’s mind made.

And it was there his walls cracked a little more, and the anger bottled further deep inside him, and he stayed slumped there in the middle of his carpet in a limp, tired silence. His eyes shut and his breathing evening out more as he embraced the darkness and let his mind drift away to recover, never hearing the knock on his door....

Tada!! The second part of the dark sides angst is done!!!

I got really inspired to get this done and it got done faster than I expected it too!! But im happy with how it turned out( for some reason people say im good at writing angst?? I guess??) And now its time to work on the next art installment!!

I hope you guys like it!!

taglist

@phantommoonpeople

@sweetsweetemo

@leesacrakon

@amazable01

@starbucks-remy

@jemthebookworm

@max-is-tired

@seriously-a-dragon

@sar-kasstic

@soupspam

@riarites

@yalltookmyurlideas

@strawberryjellystuff

@sugarglider9603

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philosophiums · 5 years

Note

about the tentative andreil prompt suggestions i took some from the hozier prompt generator that can hopefully be ambiguous enough to inspire something because your writing takes my heart and pushes it through a meat grinder

thank you so much i scrambled to write something for “i’ll crawl home” and incorporated a bit of “innocence died screaming” as well

There’s something about the steady drip and pull of an open wound that makes Neil feel twelve years old again. He’s not sure if that’s a bad thing; he seemed to have better survival instincts as a twelve year old, but he was also still so afraid of every little rush of noise in the dark, waiting for the ax-wielding boogeyman to gut him, until sometimes he was too afraid to even breathe. He’s not afraid anymore, but he’s also bleeding, so....

Maybe personal growth lends itself to stupidity. Or maybe he’s always been stupid. That’s what Andrew would say, at least.

Neil wobbles his feet under himself, as unsure of his legs as a newborn fawn and as eager to get up as one, too. On the ground he’s an easy target, but if he’s on his feet he can run - should run - away, but he’s without his mother’s encouragement hissing in his ear, using fear and pain to make him move faster, always walking that tightrope of pushing him too far and keeping him alive. He sways when he’s upright but manages to keep his balance, one hand covering the wound and the other braced out to catch himself if he does fall.

He’s been here before, as a boy named Blake. He was too young to really understand how to fit into a disguise, so he looked more like an impressionist painting of a pre-teen boy with blonde hair and grey eyes and too much leg to know what to do with - all the pieces were there, but they didn’t seem to know what to do with each other. He wasn’t a cohesive person, bits of Nathaniel and his other disguises always leaking around the seems. He was constantly drawing more attention to himself than he was diverting gazes, and it drove his mother mad. But he was so easily spooked back then that it was harder to get the drop on him. Somehow, people still managed.

Neil takes a step forward, remembering how to steady himself through a pooling stab wound, his body picking up muscle memory that Neil has let himself forget in his new life. He winces, wondering for the first time if there really is a heaven or something similar and if his mother has gained a favor from whoever’s in charge, because this seems like just the type of thing she could be behind to knock sense into him, even if she’s years late to make a difference or change his mind.

When he was Blake, fearful and bleeding and screaming in a damp narrow alley in Lyon, made into a horror hall by the faded lamplight of the world after midnight, he had thought something similar. He never found out if the stabbing then was arranged by his mother - a cruel way to make her son realize just how serious this was - but neither of his attackers died, and he was left shaking and crying in that alley for over an hour before his mother collected him and stitched him up in their hotel room.

It’s not as bad now, as Neil. He can move. He’s older. He’s been hurt enough times that he knows what the tipping point between bad and needs the hospital feels like, and he’s not there yet. It’s just a lot of blood, he thinks, and more pain than he’s felt since his father died. He balls up the loose material of his oversized running shirt and presses the bunch into his wound - a move that exposes some of his scars, but those are a little more acceptable in polite society than a lot of blood.

He retraces his running route - walking, this time - until he finds himself at home. He has to let go of the wound to fish his keys from his pocket, and blood trickles past his waistband to the floor. “Andrew,” he calls, plugging up the wound again and bottling up his ghosts as he closes the door behind him.

Andrew appears when Neil’s in the middle of taking off his shoes, and either Andrew’s getting worse about hiding his feelings, or Neil’s getting a bit smarter about reading him, because worry and panic spill out of Andrew like too much fizz from a shaken can of Coke - it makes the floor sticky with feeling, and Neil can’t move as Andrew comes closer, ripping the bunched-up shirt from his hands to get a good look at the wound.

“Why didn’t you call?” Andrew asks, tense, which is miles better than hollow or angry. Neil blinks, and the weight of his cellphone in his pocket suddenly unavoidable. A lifeline that used to be a death sentence. He’d entirely forgotten it was there, because when he was Blake, when he was bleeding out in a forgotten alley in France, he had had nothing. There was no phone, no Andrew, just a mother who had told him to stay and then disappeared. Andrew’s face tightens as if Neil had spoken that memory out loud, but Neil knows he doesn’t need to - his life before Andrew was just surviving one tragedy after another, knowing that one day it would be a similar tragedy that would kill him. “You’re an idiot,” Andrew says, and that’s becoming more clearly true the longer Neil stays alive.

They improvise their way to the bathroom, both of them holding onto the wound, tight like they don’t want it to escape. Andrew sits Neil down on the closed lid of the toilet and discards Neil’s shirt in the bathtub. He’s a force of nature - a firm gust of wind and the inescapable weight of a landslide - but he’s not sharp or sudden like Mary used to be.

Years ago, Andrew asked Aaron to teach him how to stitch up a wound. Years ago, Neil taught Andrew how to determine which wounds need a professional and which ones aren’t worth the medical debt. It’s about depth, and whether the edge of the wound is jagged, and whether the bleeding looks like a popped water balloon or a leaking garden hose. Andrew digs out the first aide kit, and Neil settles in.

“I was just running,” he says, because Andrew looks like he wants answers but isn’t sure how to get them without choking them into the open.

“Be more honest,” Andrew says, because he knows that Neil doesn’t lie to him anymore, but sometimes the whole truth hides in the back of his throat until it’s too late to be relevant.

“Okay.” Neil braces for the first push of the needle and grunts through it, eyes up at the ceiling, knuckles white on the counter and the crease of his shorts. Years ago, Andrew asked about a numbing agent, and Neil told him the pain of the shot wasn’t worth the relief that came later, that vodka is a good enough substitute. Too bad Kevin drank their last bottle Tuesday night. “I interrupted a fight. Thought I had a better chance than the kid they were beating up.” He’s always been a martyr for the people important to him, but Andrew’s influence has deepened his pool - especially for kids.

Andrew doesn’t stop stitching. The wound should only need four knots. “You’ve gotten slow.”

“Didn’t see it.”

“That’s what I mean.”

Neil hums, even though his wound really doesn’t want him to. Andrew’s right, of course; Neil doesn’t notice things about people as quickly anymore, because his life is no longer a broken bird cradled in his hands. He can live and be as normal as his past and his nightmares and his mild fame allow him, without having to look over his shoulders and be ready to drop his persona at any moment. He’s let his survival instincts slough off like a shedded skin, and replaced them with birthdays and anniversaries, with his family’s favorite foods, with directions to the five nearest exy courts.

“Is that really such a bad thing?” he asks, looking down at Andrew’s fingers, at the blood and the thread and the bold lack of armbands.

Andrew cuts the thread and meets his gaze, as solid and fierce as the first time Andrew put his fist through a window and promised to keep Neil safe. “It is if you’re going to keep running into every knife held out at you.” Which means no, but be more careful.

Neil smiles, slow and lazy from the pain, still wishing he was even a little drunk right now. “Will you go buy me some vodka when you’re done?” he asks as Andrew gets to his feet and pulls Neil with him.

“Go buy it yourself.” Which means yes.

Which means he’s home.

#the foxhole court #tfc #my fics #mine #in which neil is as always an open wound that andrew keeps stitching back together #it's a metaphor see #Anonymous

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hegglespeggles · 4 years

Text

How to write an essay you could not care less about in 10 steps

Hello. I have an essay to write.

I am also, (unfortunately) the kind of lazy, apathetic burnout who will only do my FUCKING work if I get really worked up. Usually that ends up meaning all of my papers are spite-fuelled tirades but my profs seem to like them so fine. I hope you find this particular raging tirade useful.

Today, I would like to educate the 4 of you that will actually see this on a fine art I have perfected over the years. Writing a paper, about which, you do not give a single, solitary, crumb of a fuck about. This is (you may have guessed) and excellent way for me to procrastinate doing a paper that *I* do not give a single solitary crumb of a fuck about. For best results, I recommend doing this NIGHT-BEFORE-PANIC like, a week in advance so you can fix all the NONSENSE that your more reasonable brain will undoubtedly find. But if it’s the night before and you are shit outta luck, this will get ‘er done. And with practice, you can even pull good grades outta these bitches.

Dissociating? I gotchu. Woke up the day of the deadline to feel like absolute utter garbage? Search no more friends.

FAILING GRADES ARE BETTER THAN ZEROS JUST FUCKIN DOOOOOO ITTTT

1. Go get the prompt.

I fucking mean it. Even if you are like 1000% sure you know what the prompt is asking, go to the FUCKING assignment, and copy that shit into your word document. Got the assignment on paper? TYPE THAT SHIT UP MOTHERFUCKER.

(Do you see what I fucking have to deal with)

Boom?

BOOM.

Congratulations, you now have a document, and whats more, there are WORDS in it!! You aren’t starting from scratch anymore kiddo. Fringe benefit, you always know EXACTLY what the assignment wants because its fucking Staring You Down. Not saying you have to do exactly as it says, mama didn’t raise no BITCH and I aint scared of fuckin CALLING PROFS OUT but if you wanna break the rules you gotta know what they are first

(Disclaimer: I have also been kicked out of class on numerous occasions for fighting with the prof and had full classes where the lecture WAS me arguing so maybe take my opinions of conformity with a grain of salt.)

2. Math THE FIRST

I know, this is an essay and not a fucking calculus test. But some of this shit is USEFUL OKAY

Take the paper in question. How long does it have to be? Mine is 5 pages. A page is generally accepted to be 250 words (double spaced because we FUCKING LOVE OURSELVES) so 5 x 250 = 1250 wds. That’s the goal. That’s the pinnacle. That’s your new holy grail.

Time to split this bitch up

3. Yarrrrrr, CONTENT

And finally, we get to the part that is the reason why you are being an absolute bitch baby about this essay (maybe. I might be projecting. Your life is your life and im sure youre doing your best.) I Hate this part, but now with our magic number we don’t need to pull 5 pages out of the ether.

This part really requires you to know your vibe. Is this something that you have a lot of little opinions (read: evidence) about or like, only 2 or 3 big bois? Look deep into your soul and figure out which is the easiest for you to shit out, a rant or a list. a great way to do this is to WRITE ANYTHING YOU GOT OUT

Here you can see I’ve put all of the thoughts I have about the question into a list, slapped some standard “opening” and “closing” shit around it so I can FUCKING FIND IT AGAIN and given it a good hard look. Whats the common thread in all of my opinions? That the prompt is fucking stupid and makes no sense is asking 2 different questions. Congratulations: you found your thesis. This essay, like many of my essays, bears the thesis “this is a weird question to be asking” (which falls under my broader category of “bitches aint shit” essays.)

Congratulations you have the bare bones of your skeleton.

4. MATH THE SECOND

The magic number returns. All hail our glorious leader. 1250 right?

So heres how I break this down. Break off a small chunk at the beginning. For this essay im gonna split off the 250. Split that baby in half. Congratulations, now you have a word count on your opening and closing. Personally, I know I like a lil extra space at the end to get all ranty, so Imma split this puppy up 100 for my opening and 150 for the closing. WARNING: You will think that you will be able to write enough in your opening and closing to take up lots of space. You will feel the urge to give them both the same amount of words that you give your points. This is misguided and foolish. Not only will you 1) not be able to do it but 2) even if you did, that’s like getting a sandwich which is all bread. No one wants that. Don’t be that dude. Fight the urge.

RIGHT SO. We’re still left on the other 1000 words.

If you have an idea that like, is bigger than the others, go ahead and give that puppy more of the word count than the others, fractions are your friend here and you wanna think about how much of your final product each of these babies will be. If you, like me, are an utter buffoon with no clue what youre doing, open your calculator up. Divide the remaining word count by the number of points you have. Congratulations. Youre doing the essaying.

If this is enough to get you started, GREAT! See you at step seven. BEFORE YOU GO I would like to give you this tip

5. CITE YOUR INFORMATION AS YOU ADD IT IN.

It doesn’t need to be a full citation, just literally a footnote with something that will help you remember where its from and for the love of god WHAT PAGE IT IS ON. The you of 3 hours from now will thank you.

6. Filling in the skeleton

I don’t know about you, but I cant exactly riff off of a single sentence. Like, I know what the VIBE of my point is, but like, I cant pull it out of a hat. The name of the game here is whittling down your arguments into thinner and thinner chunks that are easier and easier to bullshit. This is how you avoid that “burning building found in flames during Brooklyn fire” bullshit that memes. You don’t wanna meme. You wanna pass. So, figure out what the things you are gonna say and in each bit, keep track of how many words you are gonna write. EITHER

a) You put how many words you think you can write on any point beside the point as you go and just keep developing points and shuffling word counts around until it matches the total for that section

b) You evenly breakup the word count between all the points and keep breaking them down until you look at a subject and a word count and go “yeah that’s doable. I can do that.”

I prefer the second so LEGGO.

Ta-Da!

7. Write ‘er up

Ahhh glad to see we’re all back together again. Try-hards who can ACTUALLY bullshit papers, glad to see you’ve rejoined us! This is the part where you take all that shit you’ve broken up into nice little chunks and you turn it into something worth reading. You can do it. I believe in you. Try and keep your citations in place.

I like to do this as a question answer thingy, like an exam, so halfway through writing mine is gonna look like this

The handy part about the numbers is that it gives you a frame of reference for how your bullshit is going. Realized you had a lot more to say here than you thought? Dope! Less bullshit somewhere else, take it out of a weaker point. This point didn’t give as much as you thought it would? Split the difference elsewhere! This way you have checkpoints and you can see how your essay is going

And then you can go ahead and delete your skeleton work. Its time. Its served you well. For extra drama, whisper menacing nothings to it as you send it into the darkness. Personal favourites include “no one will mourn you,” “your fate belongs to me,” and “so this is what you have come to”

8. Citations

Theres like a million ways out there to find out how to do your citations and its gonna depend on what kind of a paper you are writing. I use Chicago most of the time, including here. My advice? Use a site like, bib.me or something to do your bibliography, and then plaster that in the bottom of your document. Use that as the building blocks to do your footnotes. Let Purdue Owl be your guide. Purdue Owl Style Guide Is A Mighty Friend Indeed.

Also your welcome for that, “putting the page numbers in as you put the info in” shit. That took me alarmingly long to figure out. It’s a wonder theyre giving me a degree.

9. Proofread that shit, ya bougie bitch.

If you wanna be time effective, getting a friend to proofread while you do your citations is a great way to go. If you have a few days, put your paper away and come back to it. If you are out of friends and time then https://www.paperrater.com/ is your last hope.

10. Slap a title page on that shit and GET IT SUBMITTED

No joke, I have been using the same template for a coverpage all through highschool and my undergrad. There is only one title page and every time I write an essay I take the title page from the last paper I wrote. There is no beginning. Only title page. Title? Topic of paper: point of paper. For example, If I had to title this screed I’d call it Essay Writing: An exploration of mediocrity. slap the date and your name and the course and instructor on there and BAM. YA DONE.

Anyway submit that shit an go to bed youre done goodnight

EPILOGUE

I’ve gotten this essay back, and when I wrote it, I was barely a human being. Barely capable of human speech let alone a coherent argument. I would forget the end of the sentence by the time I typed out the beginning. But I still for a 70%! is it the best mark I’ve ever gotten? no! but it is a hell of a lot better than the 0% I would have gotten if i hadnt done this. I get it. And i hope this helps.

#mine #my stuff #studyblr #essaywriting #musicblr #game of thrones #study motivation #study #academic

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