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ulteriorm0tiv3s · 7 months

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⚙️ ─ funfetti

✭─ pairing: metal sonic x reader (gender neutral)

✭─ genre: fluff

✭─ summary: it’s metal’s birthday! eggman tries to make a special gift, but you interfere to make it more ‘personalized’ from you.

✭─ song: https://spotify.link/7oI9LZ2RkDb

✭─ notes: LATE BIRTHDAY BIRTHDAYBITTHDAY BITTHFAY BIRTHDAY !!!! late birthday because his birthday was on my homecoming day so i didn’t have much time so 😭😭 thatz also why itz kinda short and poorly written, i didn’t wanna make something too long and have it posted too far away from his actual birthday 😞 so ya birthday oneshot kinda!!!! woo!!

༶•┈┈┈┈┈♡┈┈┈┈┈•༶

it was 4 in the morning, and you could not get an ounce of peaceful sleep. everything around you was so loud. the loud cranking of machinery was literally all you could hear. usually, you found the sound comforting, but it was far too noisy this time. you tried covering your ears in various different ways, but it was no use. sleep obviously wasn’t an option anymore, so you hesitantly climbed out of bed to go investigate.

eggman’s “tinkering room”, is what you called it, and of course that’s where the noise was coming from. it didn’t surprise you that eggman was causing your lack of sleep. there had been various other times where he kept you up. the evil genius was seated at a large metal table, working on some unknown creation.

“doc, it’s FOUR in the MORNING. what the actual fuck are you going this early,” your tone was cranky, which was understandable since you haven’t slept in 17 hours.

“i’ve warned you multiple times not to swear in my presence. however, i’m in a good mood so i’ll let it slide this time.”

“you didn’t answer my question.”

“i don’t have to answer anything,” eggman glared at you, a stern look on his face.

rolling your eyes, you leaned up against the wall, “i’m not leaving until you do though, soo…”

he just rolled his eyes as well and sighed, “fine, since you insist on pestering me. today is metal sonic’s creation anniversary. it has been 30 years since i’ve created him, my most magnificent creation to this very day. so i’m making something special for him, something that’ll finally get rid of that horrendous hedgehog.”

“creation anniversary? dude, just say it’s his birthday.”

“well, he technically wasn’t ‘born.’ so it isn’t a birthday.”

“well,” you mock his tone, “you sound goofy as hell when you say creation anniversary. but anyway, what exactly is the gift? are you gonna almost destroy the world again with some ugly counterfeit gem?”

you could tell you were pissing eggman off. he was trying his best not to boil over from rage and cook himself. the doctor just rubbed the bridge of his nose in annoyance, trying to focus on his current project.

“a deathray. i’m going to build it into metal sonic.”

“oh.” well that was straightforward!

“now will you finally leave me to my work? you’ve been distracting me long enough.”

“can i get some earplugs or something first?”

“get out.”

“okay, okay jeez…”

🔩♡🔩

eggman ceased his work around 30 minutes ago, but you still weren’t able to sleep. you were planning something quite silly since you knew it was metal’s birthday now.

instead of eggman, it was you who was seated at the large metal table, tinkering away. you were making a few modifications to this so-called ‘deathray.’ these modifications were sure to be more enjoyable than a deathray. well, in your opinion anyway. when you think of birthdays, you don’t think about deathrays, you think about cake that’s so sickeningly sweet you throw it up.

you knew metal couldn’t eat, but the idea of making him a cake was really funny for some reason. besides, what’s better as a gift than the sugary scurrility of a funfetti birthday cake? nothing, literally nothing. perhaps a blue funfetti cake though if anything. maybe you should’ve done blue funfetti…

🔩♡🔩

metal sonic’s feet clanked against the floors as he walked. he was newly equipped with eggman’s special gift. of course, no one knew you had customized it just a little bit.

“hey metal buddy!” you ran up behind him, making sure your voice was loud enough so he wouldn’t detect you as a threat.

last time you ran up behind him without saying anything, he almost shredded you like cheese. fortunately, that didn’t happen this time since you were loud enough. metal sonic turned his head in your direction, awaiting for what nonsensical thing you had to say.

“happy birthday! i'm assuming eggman already told you ‘happy creation anniversary’ or whatever. and just so you know, happy birthday is the correct term.”

he didn’t really understand what you were talking about. he was a robot created to destroy sonic, obviously, so birthdays weren’t really something he was programmed to know about. so he just tilted his head and whirred, showing his confusion.

“birthday, like, y’know, celebrating your birth. or… celebrating when you were built in your case, i guess. but that doesn’t matter, it’s still called a birthday. but anyway! today is your birthday!”

even though you explained it somewhat well, the robotic hedgehog still didn’t see how this was relevant to him. he kept his crimson eyes on you as they occasionally flickered over your form, wondering if you had anything else to say.

“i forget you can’t talk sometimes.. just gonna imagine you’re saying ‘thank you sooo much (y/n)! i’m so joyous about my birthday!’” you spoke in a very very awful impression of his nonexistent voice, patting his head afterwards.

metal sonic rolled his eyes as he turned away from you, beginning to walk away. he had more important things to attend to; like beating the shit out of his organic counterpart, sonic, or something like that. you bid him farewell, and he responded with a beep. maybe he was saying goodbye back. or maybe he was telling you to fuck off, who knows. hopefully he’ll still enjoy your gift.

🔩♡🔩

a tree tumbled down as a certain blue hedgehog was violently tossed into it, making said hedgehog groan in pain. it was a common occurrence of a fight; metal sonic vs. sonic the hedgehog. usually sonic would have the upper hand, but it seems that metal sonic is going all out today.

“aw man! that was my favorite tree! couldn’t you have thrown me into a different one?” sonic sneered, crossing his arms and doing his infamous foot taps as he stood up.

his robotic counterpart was in no mood for his mockery, clutching his sharp metal talons before lunging towards the hedgehog once more. luckily for sonic, this was easy to dodge. the tension of the battle was starting to slow down a bit, causing sonic to yawn.

“man…this is starting to get a teeeensy bit boring. just a tad. how about we finish up?”

metal sonic beeped, seeming to agree. however, he had something planned. he would take the win this time, and get rid of this horrid hedgehog once and for all.

“alrighty! this’ll be an easy win!”

sonic dashed towards the robot, preparing for his final hit. metal sonic did the same, clashing into sonic. the two blue blurs continued the battle, the intensity revving up again.

unexpectedly though, sonic was thrown into a tree a second time. this time, the tree hadn’t snapped, but bended. this caused the hedgehog to be flung across the field, giving the robot an opportunity to finish charging up his final blow.

“thanks for throwing me into a tree that wasn’t my favori— why is your chest glowing. that isn’t normal is it!”

indeed it was not normal. the robot had finished charging up his deathray; the birthday gift from eggman. he wasted no time putting it to use. it was game over for his rival.

…

rather than being blown to smitherines, sonic had been blasted with…

“is this funfetti frosting?”

the hedgehog, still in one piece, was coated in bright blue frosting and cake. specifically funfetti, but that didn’t matter. what mattered is what the fuck happened to the deathray eggman made, and why metal sonic was blasting out cake.

seems like he found your surprise!

#ignore how poorly written this is i rushed 😭#sonic #sonic the hedgehog x reader #x reader #self insert #metal sonic #metal sonic x reader #sth x reader #💎 ~ chroma’s writing

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asachuu · 3 months

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Rising from my grave to inform you all that I legitimately do not understand this “Arthur is forcefully, obsessively in love with Paul” claim/trope I’ve seen a couple of times over the years and I quite frankly don’t know where exactly it originated, but it’s just…a bit confusing, at the very least.

I don’t dispute that Arthur may have very well been in love with Paul and quite deeply so, far from, but some people speak of him as if he were this yandere stereotype in canon (AUs are AUs and those I am not talking about here), and I’m not certain of the context behind it? I can only perhaps think of the line in Stormbringer in which he swears to bring Paul back home no matter what, but that’s a stand-alone line he says on a mission during which his most trusted partner betrays him, and all other implied interactions between the two lead me to believe that Arthur is really just this shy, lonely 15-19 year old— see Arthur’s whole memoir claiming he wasn’t allowed to have any personal relationships, his supposed canonical age at the time, Paul’s recollection in the epilogue of Arthur “shyly” handing him over his gift, and speaking of said gift; Arthur’s uncertainty of whether giving it was the right thing to do, plus his worry about it over a decade later in his final moments— not this forceful, deranged maniac so far blinded by love to a point of thinking himself to have some kind of ownership over his partner. I suppose you could point to Arthur’s second death being only for Paul’s sake and nothing else, a self-sacrificial act that doubtlessly paints him as someone who most definitely cares about his partner far more than he should, but get this— he himself claims he’s already dead, and Paul was the only person he’d been allowed to care for, to look after, to stay beside and so on, not to mention he doesn’t see himself as anything of importance anyway— claiming no one will remember him after his death and he’ll only get an unmarked tombstone doesn’t invoke anything else, really— so I don’t think he’d take it as something of the same exact magnitude that it must have had in Paul’s eyes, and besides, he’s never seen it as something for Paul to constantly remember him for after his death to haunt him, for instance; it was only an act of saving his life to make up for a birthday gift he didn’t like, or so Arthur himself claims.

I certainly don’t doubt Arthur’s adoration and evident self-deprecation being horribly unhealthy, it definitely is and I haven’t written an essay on it just to claim otherwise, but there’s nothing pointing to him being anyhow forceful, possessive, completely dismissive of personal boundaries, rather the opposite— the man quite literally, canonically worries whether giving Paul a gift was the right thing to do, considering he wasn’t anyhow appreciated for it, and in not a single sentence is it implied he thinks of himself as having some kind of ownership over Paul beyond having raised him and given him a life— which, might I also add, he says as Paul points a gun at him with the intention of killing him, something which he doesn’t even hold against him a single time. In very simple terms, if I am to summarize it, I’d say Arthur is more of an extreme doormat personality, someone who doubtlessly puts his partner on a pedestal while thinking of himself as nowhere near, and although that’s nowhere close to behavior which should be rooted for, he’s certainly not some lovesick madman who is entirely oblivious to how much he’s overstepping— while it is true that Paul doesn’t appreciate his care for him or his attempts at comforting him whatsoever, that’s just…not a display of obsessive love on Arthur’s part? I’m not entirely certain on how to explain it to get the point across, but there’s a huge difference between wanting to comfort the dearest person to you, even if they despise it like Paul did, and showering them with unwanted affection, being possessive over them and whatnot.

Besides, Arthur has not once expected a thing in return for his actions throughout both novels— he’s never claimed he wants Paul’s gratitude, appreciation, love, anything, or that he’d feel anyhow entitled to it, perhaps even that he’d wind up getting his way someday if he continued, or any other such thing that this trope very often comes with. All of Arthur’s actions have never been to gain anything from Paul, and that’s clear from his memoir alone— if there’s one thing he actually wanted, it was to have someone to care for, someone to matter to, but that wasn’t something he was forcing Paul to show in any way, that was what he’d already felt he achieved from the start, most likely because he couldn’t have had any other frame of reference. There was nothing he ever wanted to force Paul to do, and if anything, what he saw Paul as was a human being of his own, not something which ultimately belonged to him in any way, shape or form, or someone who was indebted to him for all Arthur had done for him.

All that to say, this is just a short post against blatant mischaracterization, not against AUs, as I said. I admit the AU concept itself is very much not my thing either, but my personal opinion is obviously not the opinion of everyone else, and if that’s what you enjoy creating content for, feel free to go for it— just please don’t claim it’s actually canon. That’s all.

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mysweetgeo · 1 year

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“This reminded me of you.” with george harrison please? if possible 65/56 era, shaggy haired geo supremacy 😫

i’m thinking reader is single on v day and so is george, so they both plan to surprise each other with gifts (mutual pining slay) but accidentally bump into each other while buying said gifts at a shop.

or literally just write any cutesy fluff i absolutely adore your writing😭

Picture Perfect

Request: I'm thinking reader is single on V Day and so is George, so they both plan to surprise each other with gifts (mutual pining slay) but accidentally bump into each other while buying said gifts at a shop.

Prompts: "This reminded me of you."

Pairings: George Harrison x F!Reader

(SO SO SO SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY !! I’d written 99% of this prior to V Day and fucked off to England the weekend after and forgot about it entirely 😭)

You and George had known each other for a few years, you’d initially met entirely by accident on the set of one of their photoshoots back in ’63. You’d been a photography assistant and had been asked to do a mundane task and had wound up spilling coffee all over George while retrieving coffee for the group.

While George had found the situation hysterical, your boss had found it quite the opposite and fired you on the spot.

This had led to you and George becoming great friends and you had made it a point to visit with him at every chance you got.

You couldn’t help but feel something more than just a friendly adoration for the man, and what you had thought was just a platonic attraction had bloomed into something much more.

It was hard to watch girlfriends come and go, but you stuck with him through all his heartbreaks. Always providing booze and jelly babies—which you knew he adored.

With Valentine’s Day coming up, and George’s most recent girlfriend having just broke up with him last month, you decided a surprise gift would be an ideal way to help cheer him up.

You’d stepped into the candy shoppe which was filled to the brim with Valentine’s Day paraphernalia. So much so that it nearly made you gag.

You looked through the candy, grabbing several packages of jelly babies artificially colored with red and pink hues. You’d also grabbed a few packages of digestive biscuits to stuff in there as well.

You were looking through the card section of the store when you heard a very familiar voice call your name.

“George? What’re you doing here?” You asked, clearly taken off guard.

“I reckon I should ask ye the same,” he said with a gentle smile. “What are you doing here?”

You shrugged nonchalantly, playing with a card in your hands, “Getting a gift for someone.”

George leaned an arm on the shelf to give himself a cool persona, “And who’s the lucky fellow?”

Your face tinged pink and you looked down at your feet, “Someone,” you managed to whisper.

He laughed softly, “Do I know him?”

You flitted your eyes to see George’s amused face, “You could say that.”

“Well, any man who likes jelly babies and digestives is good in my book. How long have youse been seein’ each other?”

“We aren’t seeing each other, I’m just buying these for a friend,” you answered. “You never answered my question—why are you here?”

It was George’s turn to blush, “Well, y’see, I have this girl I know, right. And she’s a real good friend to me and I think I might like her, y’know. So I’ve just gone and gotten her a present that she’ll hopefully like and I needed a card to go along with the present. Somethin’ romantic-like.”

“Ahhh, so who’s the lucky lady this time ‘round?” You asked softly.

George’s face turned even more red and he scratched at the back of his head. His hair had gotten much longer since you’d known him and his natural curls left his ends just above his shoulders.

“Well—it’s erm, it’s complicated, y’know,” he huffed a laugh, “'cos I’ve known her for a few years now but I haven’t known how to say what I feel for her, y’know?”

Your heart fluttered in your chest, “I know exactly what you mean.”

George’s eyes narrowed on yours, “You do?”

You nodded, “I do, I really do.” You stopped yourself for a moment, did you really want to tell George how you felt in the middle of a convenience store?

“George I—“ You began but were cut off by him.

“I think I love you,” George blurted.

You heard something fall to the floor, not realizing it had been all of the gifts for George you were holding on to.

“George, I love you too,” You closed the distance and hesitantly touched his arm.

“Oh thank God, I thought you were talking about someone else,” George laughed as he looked down at you.

“Who else do you know that has an unrealistic obsession for jelly babies and chocolate digestives?” You said with a laugh.

“Thought you might’ve cloned me without my approval.”

You shook your head before leaning up to press a kiss to his lips, which were just as soft and full as you had imagined.

When you pulled away for a breath, George’s eyes were still closed and his face mirrored your own—pure bliss.

“So what’d you get me?” You asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Well I was walkin’ past this shop in the city centre right, and they had a couple real nice cameras. And I saw this *real* nice one and I dunno, it just y’know,” He paused and pulled a box from the small gift bag in his hand. “This reminded me of you. You said you’d need a new camera soon so I thought I’d help. I hope you like it.”

You could only bring your hands up to cover your mouth in reaction. “George—Oh my God,” You reached a hand out to take the box from his hand, “this is too much, this must’ve been so expensive. Look at you, you’ve gotten me a new camera and all I’ve gotten you is a card and some candy—I can’t accept this, its too much—“

Your ramblings were interrupted by George pressing his lips to yours once again.

When you pulled away for a second time, George was grinning, “You’ll accept it and I’m sure we can work something out as repayment if you really think it’s necessary—which is completely unnecessary in my opinion.”

Your hand was wrapped around his bicep for stability, “You’re too much you know that?” You asked.

“Obviously, must be why I’m the ‘Quiet Beatle,’” he said with laugh.

After scooping up the items you’d dropped, you made quick work of paying for them and heading off with George for some more impromptu lip-locking and candy eating.

And if a few photos were snapped of him eating said candy, well they were in good fun and great quality.

#george harrison #george harrison fic #the beatles #1965 #1966 #george harrison x reader #female reader #george #beatles

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imamuzansimp-oldblog-seoseoya · 1 month

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alright time to finally get rid of one of my drafts here we go: “fuck you,” “you really want to?”

Modern High Demon Slayer School AU!

Characters: Uzui Tengen, L/N Y/N

Ft. Iguro Obanai, Kanroji Mitsuri, Kocho Shinobu, Rengoku Kyojuro, Human!Kaburamaru

With minuscule appearances from: Kocho Kanao, Kamado Nezuko

CW/TW: Tengen being a menace, science project, performer reader (though it's not really that important, just added it for contrast), popularity, forced proximity (sort of), suggestive if you squint so hard your eyes almost close, pining (brief, from Mitsuri), flirting, insults (like a lot of insults), slow burn, reader called kitten, detailed kiss

WC: approx. 1.5k words

High School!Soccer Player!Uzui Tengen x High School!Fem!Performer!Reader

A/N: the science project is quite literally what I did for my sixth grade science fair. that was hell. even worse, i picked the subject, i put myself in living hell for a month and endured it. be glad you probably will never have to do something like that ever

A/N 2: also yes, i know dating in japanese schools isn’t allowed, but when has fanfic ever been realistic. however i do maintain the name order of family name first~

A/N 3: pls i haven’t written for real in a while be nice if im rusty

~3rd person POV~

It was no secret that you hated Uzui Tengen. The entire school had known since you met in sixth grade. You had just moved to Tokyo from [your hometown]. You were one of the most popular students at your old school for your looks, kind personality, good grades, and charm, especially when performing. You weren’t an ass about it, though, and when you moved to Tokyo you didn’t really care if you were popular or not, just wanting to get settled in first. That all changed when you met Uzui Tengen, a boy who would soon prove to be the bane of your existence. He started off seemingly nice and, like everyone else, you couldn’t deny his attractive appearance. He’d show you around the school and help you get to classes. Shortly after you became acquainted, however, things changed. Tengen began to show his true, asshole, colors. He flaunted his popularity at every chance, used his figure to get girls (and the occasional guy *cough cough his brief stint with rengoku*), and was overall just an undesirable person. To make things even more cliché, he was the best player on the school soccer team. After two weeks of attending the school, his greeting went from “Hey! How was your night?” To: “Hey, I’m not going to walk with you because you’re worthless,” Maybe that wasn’t exactly what he said, but you couldn’t exactly remember. He quickly started treating you like shit, that’s the point. From that day on, you tried to become popular again. You wanted to make Tengen eat his words. Ever since sixth grade, you had been popular not only for your personality and charm, but for your feud with Tengen and being the only one able to get a rise out of him.

~Your POV~

"Either he has a crush on you or he's threatened and an ass. I think it's the first!" Piped Mitsuri as she took a bite out of her salmon onigiri. "You seriously think it's a crush?" You asked.

"There's no way he'd have a crush on you, he's just a jealous ass," Shinobu said as she peeled her orange. "Don't waste your time on him, Y/N." Junior year had finally arrived, and you were so close to senior year and graduating that you could almost taste it. It would've been an idyllic year if it weren't for Tengen having gotten even more annoying than before, if that was even possible. You were both on top of the popularity chain, him being the captain of the school soccer (football) team, and you being a performer. Starkly different interests for starkly different personalities. "Speak of the devil, here he comes." You say, noticing him and his friends walk into the cafeteria.

"You know what that means, Mitsuri..." Says Shinobu. You hear Mitsuri squeal audibly quietly when she sees Obanai. "Shit, he's coming this way..." You say. Shinobu rolls her eyes and Mitsuri scowls, albeit excited to see Obanai.

As the quartet approaches you and your two friends, you turn back to your food, not wanting to deal with Tengen's antics. You feel a large hand ruffle your well styled hair, and upon instinct bring a hand up to slap his face. "What is with you and my hair? You have your own, don't you? Mess that up, dumbass." You say cooly. You had managed to hit his eye, which he now stood scratching. "And you have your own face that you could hit instead of mine!" He shoots, calm demeanor coming undone from just a simple smack. You smirk, knowing your effect on him is working. "But my face is far too pretty to hit, don't you think?" You quip.

"I think mine is the one that's too pretty to hit, yours is the plain one, isn't it?" He replied.

"Bitch, I'm not a mirror." You simply say. Cool demeanor never faltering despite the blatant lie you just told. His face was pretty and you knew it, everyone knew it, but there was no way you would feed his ego. Ever. It was far too high already. "You know, Y/N, the most annoying part of you isn't your voice, popularity, or personality. It's the fact I can never seem to be able to get a rise out of you. I can't get you angry, yet you can get me livid with a simple word." He says, bending down to whisper it in your ear. You felt your cheeks heat up. Wait, what? You were... blushing? Over Uzui? No, there was no way, it must've just been the position. Anyone would blush over a blatantly attractive guy whispering in their ear, right? Right? "Uzui, have you heard of manners?" You step on his foot and stand up, cheeks quickly cooling. "OWWWW! That really hurt, Y/N! My ego, wounded..." He feigned pain poorly.

"Uzui, calm down. Your ego needed it." You shoot back before leaving. "Rengoku, Obanai, Kaburamaru... I don't know why you associate yourselves with this piece of shit, but I feel bad for you. It must be hard, dealing with such an annoying guy all the time." A comment meant solely for Tengen to hear. His friends were nice, they just happened to hang out with the wrong guy. And with that you excuse yourself from the cafeteria and head outside to enjoy the rest of your break.

~TIME SKIP TO THE NEXT DAY~

You sat in science class, only half paying attention to what the teacher was saying. She was only collecting homework after all. Suddenly, you hear you name. "L/N with Uzui. Kocho with Shinazugawa. And Kanroji with Kamado. Alright, those are your groups." She says. Shit. You think to yourself. We're doing a project, and I'm with Tengen of all people... "Your assignment is to test how fast light travels through different amounts of water and milk. I expect well written lab reports from all 20 of you by the 5th of next month, so you all have two weeks. Class dismissed." She concluded just as the bell rang. You packed your bag and left the classroom, excited to go home now that 7th period had ended. You rushed to your locker when you felt a tap on your shoulder. Thinking it was Shinobu or Mitsuri, you made the ill-informed discision to turn around. There you were met with Tengen's annoyingly handsome face smiling at you. "What do you want?" You snap.

"Woah, easy, kitten... I'm just here about the science project," He says, the new name not going unnoticed by you. "My name isn't kitten, it's Y/N. You know this, why the sudden new name?" You spit.

"Because otherwise I wouldn't be very flashy, now would I?"

"Oh fuck you and your flashiness." You retort while crossing your arms.

"How your words wound me," He feigns pain.

"I am fully capable of making that pain physical, too, you know."

"You wouldn't dare, kitten, you like me too much!" You stand at a loss for words at the continuous use of the name, heat buzzing through your cheeks, heart racing uncomfortably. "F-fuck you!" You argue, flustered.

"Already used that one, kitten. In any case, when do you want to meet to do the project?"

"Preferably never." You shoot, cheeks still red.

"Oh, but we have to pick a time... how about tomorrow at my house?"

"Fine." You shoot, turning your face away and leaving down the school stairs.

~time skip (sorry)~

The next day, you leave to school unexcited for your meeting with Tengen. Just as you finish walking down the steps out of school, you hear an annoying voice. “hey, kitten!” calls tengen. “uzui. i am above being a furry. stop calling me that.” you say, deadpanning, but walking with him to his house nonetheless. tone betraying the clear blush in your cheeks. "oh, but you're blushing! why should I stop?" He said.

"You're beginning to sound like Doma."

"That might be because we're on the same soccer team."

"Do I care?" You shoot, waiting for a response. Instead of getting one, the tall boy bends down in front of you, placing a hand on your cheek. “you should start caring, kitten, since i’m going to be the one who steals your first kiss~”

“fuck off, uzui!” you say, not fully meaning your words.

“i have a feeling you don’t really want me to, am i right?” you stand at a loss for words, mouth agape slightly, as you reach his house. when you get to the entrance, he pins you up against the wall. “i- erm…” you sputter as tengen places a finger on your lips, silencing you. “be quiet kitten, let’s give those lips of yours something better to do, rather than spewing lies you yourself don’t even believe…”

“tengen… i…”

“shhh… be quiet, babygirl, just focus on me…” he says as he leans in to kiss you. your lips connect, and you feel a spark ignite inside you. his musky scent, like forests and old paper, infiltrates your senses. it makes you crave for more contact. his lips feel so plush and warm against yours, his tongue dancing with yours once he slides it in your mouth. he tastes like heaven, like honey drizzled over a crisp apple. the kiss is perfect and welcomed as you feel his hands go to rest on your hips and it just feels so nice and good and right. your mouths disconnect, tongues untying, as you look into each other’s eyes with love. “so… you seemed to enjoy it~” tengen says, slightly breathless. you look away, flustered. when you look back up, he speaks again. “y/n… i’ve seen the way you look at me… will you go out with me?”

#tengen uzui #tengen x reader #kny #kny x reader #demon slayer fluff #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer #kny hashira

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unchartedwrites · 9 months

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Heyy, could I request a fanfic where the reader meets Rafe in college/or university and they kinda hate each other at the beginning because the teacher wants them to do a project together: (could be any subject) but while working on that project they get closer to each other. Thank you, I hope that's not too much to ask and I hope you understood my shitty english. :D

A/N: Hello! First off, I do apologise that it has taken me so long to pick up this request. It literally has been sitting in my inbox for couple of years now. I’ve decided to go through my inbox and pick up requests to write and clear it down to those who did make one. It has been a while since I’ve written something so please forgive me if it’s a bit rusty, I’m going to keep it short and simple, so I hope that it’s ok! Wherever you may be in life, dear anon, I hope all is going well for you! :’)

It hasn’t been long since you had started college and you’ve seemed to settle in pretty well. You enjoyed your classes and found a couple of friends along the way. Regardless of your positive start, something or someone was always looming over in the back of your mind, almost like a dark shadow you couldn’t escape from.

It was Rafe Adler.

It was an understatement to say that there weren’t many who haven’t yet heard his name. Oh no, he was quite the character, and very liked among his peers. Was it his good grades, his great communication skills, or his good looks? Well, that’s what everyone else would always narrow it down to.

Oh, but you weren’t so easily fooled, Rafe was nothing short of arrogant, cocky, handsome yes, but you could see right through him and that made you despise him. You hated him and it was no secret that he didn’t like you either…or so you though.

It was then that you were snapped out of your daze, thinking of him of all people, when the professor had called out your name, soon after followed by his.

You couldn’t believe it, there was no way that you were being paired up with him to do this project. Despite your internal turmoil, getting a good grade is what mattered the most, and you certainly weren’t going to let Rafe get in the way of that.

Being as subtle as possible you glanced his way, knowing exactly where he would be sitting, but to your surprise he was already looking directly at you, not so subtle at all.

A smirk on his lips, his eyes never left yours. You felt heat rising up your body and flooding your face, why was your heart beating so much faster now. You quickly averted his gaze, not letting him have the satisfaction of seeing you like this. Was this his way of mocking you? You certainly didn’t want to dwell on this any longer.

The moment the class was dismissed, you proceeded to pack up your things as quickly as possibly and make a hasty exit just to avoid having a run in with Rafe on the way out. Just as you thought you were nearly in the clear, your bag already zipped up and ready to go, you were stopped in your tracks.

“Y/N.”

You recognised that voice. It was Rafe.

So much for a swift exit, you had no choice but to look towards the man.

“Rafe.” You tried to sound as neutral as possible. “Something I can help you with?” You continued, hoping that this doesn’t have to go on longer than necessary.

“I’m glad you asked.” He smirked again, it was always that damn smirk. There he was, once again, making your blood boil. He then continued, “This upcoming project, I was hoping to make a start on it today.” He gestured between the both of you.

“Uh-huh, sure, that’s fine with me.” It was rather unlike Rafe to act this civil towards you, maybe he needed that good grade on this project too. That was the only one thing you would ever have in common with someone like him, at least that’s what you kept telling yourself.

“I’m free after seven, meet you at the library?” You suggested.

“Great.” He seemed satisfied with your proposal. Just as he was turning to head towards the exit, he gave you one last glance, “See you at the library, partner.”

You almost didn’t catch it, but did he just wink at you. You were left standing in your spot in utter disbelief as you watched him walk away.

You knew right then, that this was going to be no ordinary semester at college, and there was only one person who is going to be responsible for this.

It was Rafe Adler.

#rafe adler x reader #uncharted imagines #uncharted fic #the more i proof read the worse it gets lol #i suppose this is setting up the enemies to lovers romance #can you tell its been too long since i've written anything

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superblycaffeinated · 2 months

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We're back and ready to share the new and re-written story! I hope those that were reading the original So Far, So Goode are still with me, and for those of you that are new, welcome 🧡 I can't wait to hear what people think and I hope you enjoy it! Head on over to the So Far, So Goode masterlist here for information on the story, general warnings, and last, but certainly not least - the music. I'll be posting here and on Ao3 (under superbcoffeedrinkersubparwriter) - but you need to be a registered user to read over there. CW: description of guns

Chapter One:

To be honest with you, I used to think I was the furthest a person could possibly be from lonely.

Which, I suppose, is because I had never really been alone long enough to ponder the true depth of all that surrounds the word, feeling - state. The more I think about it, the more I start to doubt if I’ve even touched the surface of what it means to be alone.

I’m a triplet, so I haven’t been physically alone even before birth, save for the one minute and forty seven seconds both my brothers were out in the world before I arrived. Also, not only am I a triplet, but one of five Goode kids. Plus, there are my two cousins, and all of the Goodes that aren’t Goodes, but hell, yell the name in a room and they’ll all be turning their heads (a phenomenon I’m told goes well into the past). Long story short, I have a lot of family, making it almost impossible to ever be alone.

Since there are so many of us, I guess I should clarify which Goode I am for the official record or whatever? Believe it or not, I haven’t actually written a formal CoveOps report before this. Despite receiving a superior education in the field I wish to enter, I’ve never once encountered any training on how to write one of these things. My educators (and family) claim paperwork is the worst part of the job, so maybe they hold off until it’s too late and it just never gets taught? I don’t know. All this is to say, don’t judge me it’s not up to, like, professional standards, okay?

My name is Joelene Macey Goode, but everyone calls me Joey or Jo. I know most people hate nicknames, but I honestly prefer it over my full one. Not that Joelene is a bad name, but you try living eighteen years with people singing terribly offkey at you while you stand there awkwardly. So, no offense to Dolly, but I can’t hear Jolene without wincing now (but if you read this Ms. Parton, from one Gallagher Girl to another - you rule!).

And yup, that’s me. A Gallagher Girl. My identity, my cover, my school - all for the last five and half years of my life.

Since you’re reading this, I’m sure you know exactly who we are and what we do at The Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women, and you may be thinking you know all there is to know about us Gallagher Girls, but I am no ordinary one.

I’m a legacy, a fourth generation one to be exact. Meaning, a lot of Goodes (in one form or another) have walked those hallowed halls. They slept in the same rooms, they took the same classes, they ate the same creme brulee and then crushed records or did impressive enough things to end up with their pictures in our hallways and their names in our history textbooks (the ones that tell the real history that is). And they did it all before graduating.

It’d be one thing if it was just their accomplishments to live up to, but it’s the footsteps attached to the person attached to the name, that I’m truly scrambling behind.

Because, yes, you’ve been reading that last name correctly.

Goode.

Maybe you’ve heard of us? The best family in the biz, as Grandpa likes to boast.

I don’t like to phrase it quite that way too often as Grandpa usually gets a look from Grandma and mom that could kill him. And I mean, literally kill him, if Peter and I hadn’t accidentally broken the specific pair of glasses meant for such a thing on our fourteenth birthday.

Because, as I’m sure you’re very aware of, by the “biz”, Grandpa and I mean that martini shaking and pouring while dodging a bullet, running from the explosion in a suit hand in hand with a girl in heels, passionate kiss or dramatic monologue before jumping out of the moving train kind of stuff.

Spy craft.

Espionage.

The cool shit.

But don’t worry, I know that stuff doesn’t really happen and it’s all for the cinematic experience.

Why my Grandpa gets the looks, is because saying that “we’re the best in the biz” goes against everything my parents have told me and my four siblings our entire lives. That the name doesn’t mean we carry and wield this magical power. Being a Goode doesn’t allow us to assume we’re the best without working towards anything.

My parents weren’t wrong, and I’ve never, ever, once taken my last name to mean I could do what I wanted with zero consequences. In fact, it’s made me believe the exact opposite. It isn’t zero consequences when we mess up, it’s an astronomical amount. Because, when you’re a Goode, you’re not just messing up, all Goodes are too.

Instead of skating by on the merit of the name, I’ve spent my entire adolescence feeling as if I need to rise and thensome to earn the name that was simply just given to me because of my blood.

Oh you’re their daughter? So you can do this like that? Why yes, as a matter of fact I am the daughter of agents Morgan and Luke Goode, and while I can do it like that, I’ve been forbidden from doing it in the house, or from using it on my brothers, thanks for asking.

Also, yeah, you read those names correctly too. The best agents (in my totally unbiased opinion of course) the CIA has ever seen, are my parents.

So, you see, I’ve got Goode blood, and not just any. I have to do this. I have boots to fill and make my own impressive steps with - a name I have to live up to.

I’ll admit though, that the name, the legacy of it all, the movies I love, the training - none of it compares to the real reason I have to be a spy.

It’s a word, pretty well known around these parts, maybe you’ve heard of it?

Classified.

Now, I don’t know about you, but when someone tells me I can’t know or that I can’t do something, I cannot rest until I know all the information or I do the thing.

I’m told this lovely trait of mine comes from my mother, and a little bit of my dad, and potentially a whole lot from a great grandmother I’ll never know. So, I take breaks. I've learned when it’s time to take a step back - a breather - before I let the need to know or do swallow me whole. But I can’t let it go fully, not really, not until it’s done.

Which is why I have to be a spy, and not only a spy, but the best. Because if I’m the best, then that word is never going to be in my way again. Knowledge is power, and power is privilege, and privilege is responsibility.

So, when my mother was home for my entire Summer break, I knew it was my responsibility to -

Hold on. Let me backup. I don’t think that came out with the emphasis it requires to get my point across.

My mother, current and working agent Morgan Goode, of The CIA was home, doing “nothing”. All. Summer.

Something stunk, and it wasn’t just Andy and Peter’s disgusting socks that quite literally could have been radioactive.

All summer, the feeling that my great grandpa - Grandpa Joe - always tells me to never ignore, sat heavy in my gut.

A spy’s gut is their number one weapon, Joelene, and the longer mine felt off, my nerves frayed and sparked until the slow, incessant heat of something wrong, finally caught fire and I couldn’t ignore the burn any longer.

As mom took hushed phone calls and locked herself in the office of our safe house for hours, I felt the inside of that room and its contents calling to me like a flame does to a moth, or in my case, the opposite. I was the flame, engulfed, consumed by my need to know and that office and what was happening behind its closed door was the moth I was destined to devour.

And that was all before she used that awful, horrible, no good for shit word.

The classified of it all would have tipped me over the edge regardless, but it was the fact that it was my mom who said it that really sealed my fate.

I can count, on my two hands, the total number of times my mother has said that something was classified to me, without my dad prompting her to do so. She’s always been a little…shall we say looser? with information. She is the one who always sort of half answers our questions until dad is stepping in. He’s constantly reminding her that her children are not supposed to know that she stopped a bomb in Brazil or saved an ambassador to France and that she’s, “making us think it’s okay for them to sneak out of their heavily guarded and safe schools and fly to foreign countries when it is absolutely not okay and don’t even think about it.”

I’ve heard dad’s speech so many times, that I promise you, even if I wasn’t trained to recall intimate details and information, I would still be able to tell you it verbatim.

That speech wasn’t gonna stop me because it never has, and, as I’ve previously stated, I have that trait that makes it so I can’t let things go.

My dad shoved puzzles and code-breaking books at me all Summer. I beat Peter and Andy at Super Mario Brothers (the old one, from the 80’s, as Luigi - do you know how hard that is?). I beat Grandpa at Scrabble twice (which, okay, wasn’t that hard to do), and was forbidden from playing Monopoly with Peter inside the house ever again. I watched twenty-two spy movies, sixteen rom-coms, and five westerns. I learned the dance to Push It by Salt ‘n’ Pepa, mastered the Swift maneuver (that’s Taylor, by the way) and none of it worked.

At my wit’s end is when mom caught me staring at a vent in the hallway between bites of Fruit Loops. Calculations and assumptions of what would stand between me and the other side seemingly apparent on my thinking face as my milk turned pink and the cereal turned squishy, because mom shook her head slowly without lifting her eyes from a newspaper.

While, when she did lift her gaze, there was a distinct glint in her green eyes that could have you believing she was amused, her tone told me all I needed to know when she said, “Don’t even think about it if you love your eyebrows.” Which I really do (I have part of my namesake to thank for that - she never once let me take a tweezers to them no matter what the trends said) so, Operation Vent was out.

But a threat such as this was an obstacle of child’s play proportions. Potential eyebrow removal standing between me and information? It was fuel to an already raging fire, a carrot in front of a bunny, a tailored suit and a shaken not stirred martini before the finest double o seven.

So, on the morning of my mother’s birthday, the day before me and my brothers were to head off to school for our Senior year, I knew it was my last chance.

I was careful to avoid the creak of the floorboard directly to the left of my bed as I semi-rolled off of it.

Landing on socked feet, I held my breath as I glanced up at the bed across from mine. The eldest of all my siblings and us Goode kids, my sister Collins, was still asleep. Her chest rose and fell evenly under a buttercup yellow duvet and flat palms, her straight brown hair fanned over her pillow and framed her peaceful face.

She looked like a goddamn Disney princess even in her sleep and I’ve hated her since we were kids for it.

I hated her even more when my fingers had barely touched the cool metal of our door knob and her whisper sliced through the silence sharper than any knife my Grandpa had taught us to throw.

“Whatever it is you’re about to do, it’s not a good idea and you should go back to sleep.”

“I’m just going pee,” I lied easily.

She rolled her gorgeous eyes from her pillow, still laying on her side.

Collins, of all my siblings, is the most made to be a pavement artist. She is a natural at blending, at becoming whoever she needs to be, but her eyes have always given her away. They’re a soft and warm brown most of the time, but depending on what she’s wearing or the lighting around her, touches of green and blue come out. But no matter what color they are, they’re far too expressive.

Amusement and maybe a little pride shown in them then, her hands roamed under her cheek and her legs tucked up under the sheets as she spoke. “You have your lucky shirt on, and your lock picking set in your pocket. But sure, you’re going to the bathroom.”

“You never saw me,” I whispered, and practically somersaulted (to avoid the door hinges squeaking) out of the closest thing either of us had known to a childhood bedroom.

Spies aren’t totally devoid of feeling and emotion like the movies and novels would like you to think. They’re humans too, and crave and need a place to call home - they just need to be more careful about it, is all.

Growing up, we moved around DC a lot, but I’m sure our actual address was in California or Idaho or something. Grandma and Grandpa took care of us quite a bit when we were really little. One of my earliest memories is Grandpa teaching me the signs for when grilled cheese is ready to flip while also teaching me the exact spot to press with a precise pressure that makes your enemy release without control (a method he so humbly calls The Zach Attack, by the way) at their ranch in the Midwest.

There, and here, are the only two safe houses I’ve returned to. This one, close enough to school and DC, but not too close, is my childhood home if the life of a spy allowed such a thing. Sometimes, when I think about this place, I’m filled with an undeniable grief that makes my chest ache with something heavy. Because I know that one day, and maybe one not so far off, I’ll never return to it.

This is not where, if I choose to have them, my kids will take their first steps. A boyfriend won’t show up on this doorstep with flowers and a handshake for my dad. There aren’t lines of mine and my siblings' heights tracked, there aren’t framed photos hung on the walls, there is no attic full of boxes of baby clothes or memories too fond to get rid of.

Sure, there’s still little touches of our family here though. A dent in Andy and Peter’s room from where I flung open the door repeatedly hitting the knob into the wall. Peeling stickers of rock bands Peter and I plastered on the underside of the shelf in my closet. Scratches and scuffs on the hardwood from chairs being pushed away from the huge gathering table. A bright blue nail polish stain on the carpet in mom and dad’s room where Leia and I spilt it. We all give the fridge an extra bump with our hip to make sure it stays closed and we hit the top of the entrance to the living room as we pass underneath it.

It’s my home. And like any girl in her home, and like any spy, I know its sounds, its tricks and secrets, its shadows.

And sure, Collins caught me before I even left the bedroom, but that didn’t matter. If I avoided certain floor boards, if I kept low, and I worked slowly, I was convinced I could break into the office without anyone, particularly my mother, ever knowing.

I had managed to slip down the entire hallway without a hitch, and was knelt in front of the office door with my compact lock picking set (an actual compact with the ability to unlock anything, thanks to my Aunt Macey) when I heard something.

Hearing something, in the early hours of the morning, before the sky has really even transitioned from black to indigo, isn’t out of the ordinary.

But hearing something, at a remote safe house, when your entire family should be asleep, is out of the ordinary.

While I noticed the noise outside, I had failed to notice things, plural - my family’s number one rule.

Because I failed to notice the lack of a competing snore with Peter’s and the smell of cinnamon, I’m not proud to admit I jumped when my mother’s figure slipped around the corner from the kitchen and her voice calmly and quietly asked me, “Did you hear that?”

“Yes,” I answered immediately, because I knew if my mother was clarifying if she wasn’t alone in hearing something, it was serious. There would be time to discuss how I was literally caught in the act of breaking and entering later.

My mother stood at the end of the hallway, a steaming cup of coffee nestled between her hands. I snort and roll my eyes whenever anyone tells me I look like her. My mother is gorgeous, undeniably so, and while I may have her dark brown curls and green eyes, there’s no way I look like her.

Especially then, when she looked so much like a regular mom. My dad’s old SIX sweatshirt hung from tense shoulders. Worn navy fabric engulfed her frame, slightly covering rumpled pajama pants covered in penguins. Her brown curls were piled high on top of her head, loose pieces falling free and erratic.

But I knew about the scars under the sleeves, and the prosthetic beneath the penguins, and the look behind the green eyes. She was the furthest thing from a regular mom, especially when a louder thunk happened outside in what could be considered our driveway.

Mom knelt slowly, her gaze on the front of the house that I couldn’t see, as the door knob in front of me started to twist. Before I could even tell her, she calmly and quietly just said, “Dad.”

I’ve always known my parents were good spies, but I never thought I’d see it in action, like this.

The office door slowly opened, and dad barely looked at me, completely unphased as he called, “Morgan?”

He was equally fresh from sleep. A Blackthorne shirt pulled tight across his chest where letters faded and his plaid pajama pants wrinkled, looking so exceptionally dad, except for the black pistol in his hand.

I was suddenly and acutely aware of a real threat. This was not CoveOps. This wasn’t P & E. This wasn’t a fun field trip Grandma had taken us on to Roseville with Uncle Matt. The gun without a safety ready to shoot in my father’s hand spoke the words I’d been fearing for years - this is real, and you’re not prepared, are you Joelene?

“Here, I’m fi-”

Two doors at the end of the hallway opened, cutting her off.

My brothers blinked, heavy lids opening and closing sleepily but awake enough to assess the severity of the situation. Shirtless torsos tense as they both stared at the gun in my father’s hand and then at me with matching hard frowns. Their expressions were the beginning and end of their similarities. Peter’s brown hair was disheveled, curls flattened in some spots and sticking straight out in others. Andy’s blond was slightly less askew, if only because it was shorter. His green eyes landed exactly two inches taller than Peter’s brown, but his shoulders took up far less space in the doorway than Peter’s broad frame. One made to slip in and out of places he wasn’t supposed to and the other to barrel into anything that got in his way in the process.

Collins, who must have determined I’d need the assist, was dressed for the occasion in all black and glaring at me from her spot crouched in our doorway.

“I told you it was a bad-”

The front door knob rattled and my father was pushing me behind him as he stepped out of the office fully. He quickly made his way down the hallway, and I felt more than heard the steps of three of my siblings backing me up.

Dad made to grab for my mother until she held her hand up, all of us freezing at her silent command.

I’m convinced my parents have two different bodies.

There’s the mom and dad bodies. The soft spot on my dad’s chest that’s perfect for a cheek to rest while listening to him read Shakespeare. The hands my mom gently runs over our heads, carefully detangling my curls. Arms and hands that twirl bodies around the kitchen in time with old music, heads that throw back in laughter with ease.

Then, there are their highly trained take no shit I’ve seen things you can’t even imagine spy bodies.

I hadn’t really seen these versions of my parents until then. Sure, I’d seen them fight, we all have dad to thank for our own stances. But this was different. These were shoulders and hips that stood with purpose, strong, planted, but ready to move. Arms that held a gun steady and sure. Eyes that communicated with each other without mouths saying a word. Bodies that were inherently made to protect, to fight.

To kill.

It was in less time than it took me to blink that their bodies transformed back into their mom and dad versions.

The gun dropped to my dad’s side, their shoulders fell, tears quickly made my mom’s eyes glassy and both of them breathed out a name in the way only parents can.

“Leia.”

I’d never seen my dad move so quickly, disappearing around the corner before my mom could.

A quiet and familiar giggle burst out from the entryway, thick with tears as she whispered, “Hi, daddy.”

The four of us barreled down the hallway, tripping over each other and shoving, not believing it was her without seeing it for ourselves.

Mom disappeared next, accompanied by the voice that couldn’t possibly be there, louder, and happier than her first words, “Happy Birthday!”

“What is wrong with you? Why didn’t you call? Why didn’t you tell us? Your dad could have -”

“Because it was a surprise,” my other sister interrupted my mother in a way I’ve never been brave enough to do so and I knew it was really her. Here. Especially when she said, “Where are the idiots?”

If Collins was made to blend, Leia was born to stand out. Even in an olive green t-shirt and camo government issued pants, Leia Goode sparkled, she glowed. Her blonde curls were pulled into a uniform low bun, and I had never seen her so tan, or her muscles so defined. Her green eyes practically glittered when the four of us rounded the corner, and her dimple poked out on her cheek and her freckled covered nose scrunched as she smiled.

Collins managed to reach her first, but we all slammed into her, tripping over the two large green duffles at her feet as we all fell to the ground in a laughing and crying heap of chaos - our speciality.

Leia winced under all of us, quick and quiet enough that if we weren’t who we all were, if we weren’t all still a little on edge, we wouldn’t have noticed.

“Are you hurt?” Collins pushed all of us out of the way, gaze roaming over Leia protectively. Nurse Collins activated and assessing.

“No,” Leia shrugged. But not the kind of shrug that admits you’re lying, the kind that, delivered properly, and with the right expression she currently wore, made you think you were crazy for asking. Of course she wasn’t hurt, why would you think such a thing?

Normally, this expert lie delivery could win awards, and I’m sure Leia thought she was in the clear, on her way to The Academy to collect hers. But, the thing is, our parents are not normal parents. And while many parents seem to have this, like, engrained skill to suss out a lie, spy parents are worse.

Way worse.

Each of them took a step closer, crossing their arms as they stared down at Leia like they weren’t thrilled to have her home.

It was a shared look we’d all come to know extremely well. Without moving or saying anything, they seemed to circle you, pulling out your lie with only their eyes, making you spill your guts easily.

They were good and highly trained, and we were no match for them. We all knew it was easier to fold - don’t lie when you’ve already been caught, don’t lie to the people who know your tells better than you do.

But Leia stood with ease, and smiled. She shrugged again and looked at my parents without wavering.

“I’m fin-”

“Don’t,” my mom narrowed her eyes with the word. She sucked in a breath, and I knew a speech was coming, but Leia threw her hands up in the air with a groan.

“Alright! There was a tiny incident. It’s already healing.”

Andy’s fist clenched at his side, his jaw pulsing as he asked, “What happened?”

Leia pinched the bridge of her nose with her forefinger and thumb, closing her eyes in the process so she couldn’t see how my mom’s lips twitched in the fight of a smile or how her gaze made pointed contact with my dad’s.

It was something we’d all seen him do a hundred times at least and before Leia could answer, Peter snorted, hands covering his mouth as his shoulder shook.

Collins bit her lip, unable to hide her grin. Andy shivered, muttering “That’s scary.” I sucked in a breath, fighting a wheeze and Peter fell against me, laughing harder.

Leia’s eyes flew open, looking around with a frown. “What? What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” my mom shook her head, tucking one of Leia’s stray curls back behind her ear, “What happened?”

Leia frowned, placed her hands on her hips and huffed.

“It’s classified.”

Mom snorted and we all lost it. Dad grinned and kissed Leia’s forehead right above where her eyebrows knit together as she whined about how she didn’t get it and that someone needed to tell her what was so funny right now.

It didn’t matter why she was home, or that she hadn’t answered the question, not really. It didn’t matter that I still didn't know what was going on in the office all summer. It didn’t matter that my dad had a gun and had been ready to use it.

All that mattered was that we were laughing, and safe, and together for the first time in a long time.

#we're back baby #gallagher girls #gallagher girls series #gallagher girls fanfiction #the listen series #so far so goode #goode intentions

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pagegirlintraining · 5 months

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Heyyy,

3, 5,6,7,12,17,18,27,28,29 and 30 for the ao3 wrapped ask game 💜 (i know i picked a lot of numbers so feel free to choose which ones to answer)

Hey :)

I love that you picked lots of numbers, you‘re basically giving me the privilege of picking my own favorites😁 I‘ll stick to five of them for now:

12. How many WIPs do you have in your docs for next year?

There are 5 that I‘ve already worked on to various, widely differing degrees, plus 1 that I‘ve been planning on and off for months but haven’t actually written anything down for yet. Guess you could say it’s a 5+1 situation 😂

17. Your favorite character to write this year

I‘ll always love writing Wille‘s inner monologues because they come so naturally to me. All I have to do is just dial up my own inner monologue by one or two levels. But also Sara for the exact opposite reason (see number 18).

18. The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year

Sara. I‘ve had a hard time understanding some of her decisions in both seasons, and I think it’s because contrary to her, I‘m a huge people pleaser. That’s not to say that Sara doesn’t want people to like her. Her actions just don’t exactly express that a lot of the time. It doesn’t seem to be a major motivation behind them. So it’s definitely a challenge writing a character and their decisions when I can’t draw from my own main motivation to understand why they do what they do. But that’s what makes it so rewarding when I do find that line that feels exactly “Sara”.

27. What do you listen to while writing?

It varies a lot. If it’s a description heavy scene, I can’t listen to music at all. because it’s too distracting. For dialogue heavy parts I’ll put on my summer (all year really) playlist. It’s familiar and helps keep my thoughts light and “flowy”, especially during emotionally charged scenes. When I write a dance scene I’ll loop the song literally the entire. time. And finally, I’ve recently figured out that 80s love ballads work really well for writing intimacy. Or at least they do for me :D it gives me the courage to be just a little cheesy, which, let’s be honest, is just a part of being in love.

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year

It’s impossible to choose one without feeling like I’ve probably forgotten about an even better one 😅 I’ve attempted to narrow it down to two, although I’ll probably wake up in the middle of the night now going “Nooo why didn’t I say this one?”

For contender number one we have this line from Copy and Pasta:

“I, uh— I forgot to say the nude part, didn’t I?”

Contender number two is a longer passage from The Time Of My Life:

“I know, Wille,” he told him through a sigh of his own. “I know this is stupid and completely reckless. But I’ve tried this entire time to stop thinking about you, and still here I am.”

“Here you are,” Wille repeated, the movement of his lips a soft tickle against the tip of Simon’s finger. And although there were probably a hundred more important things to say, the only thing that felt right to Simon in this moment was, “Dance with me.”

Well, this has gotten quite long. Thanks so much for giving me the chance to talk about all of these things 💜💜💜

#writers ask game #yr fanfic #young royals #wilmon #fanfiction

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cuckweeds · 2 years

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i love verily bitchies videos usually but i don’t get why they think having family friendly happy queer rep is bad because it’s “unrealistic” or whatever and like i get the sanitization issues but let’s remember that especially in the US the hayes code quite literally prevented any happy queer stories from being told. if someone wanted to make a queer story for a big screen they had to make it tragic or make the queer characters villains. like for most of history we only god bad stories. so i feel like heartstopper is really important because it gives people a story almost completely devoid of that trauma and suffering. i don’t care that it’s “sanitized” and that they haven’t mentioned sex or alcohol or mental illness (which is such a strange critique cause the comics very much DO go into this). and like it’s not being written by straight people or anythkng. it’s very much from a queer author who wanted to make a happy story??? like what’s bad with wanting a happy story where the gays are happy and homophobia is bad. and i know they said there is nothing bad about enjoy that that but like ??? the whole point of that video was literally “sanitized queer rep bad. messy queer rep good” and i just don’t get it. it’s just like when they said love simons story was boring and unrealistic and bad bc he wouldn’t face any homophobia coming out to his town and it’s like ok and??? we don’t have to see that in every single piece of media about is just bc it’s what happens in the real world. like can we just focus less on “good” and “accuracte” representation and just focus on rep that comes from queer people like. like i don’t care how poorly you think nick nelson is written, he’s still written by a queer author and that makes his story important. just cause he’s not as 3 dimensional as you would enjoy doesn’t make him bad rep. there’s nothing wrong with having characters that are “too nice”. like people ducking loved heartstopper /because/ it gave them something happy and heartwarming and devoid of trauma and suffering and you shouldn’t be telling people that that’s bad because it’s “sanitized”. also on another note, they said in their vid that heartstopper wasn’t realistic because all of the mains were gay and in relationships to be shipped off and marketed and blah blah whatever the fuck but like. so many people deeply related to that friend group. so many of us younger queers had completely gay friend groups in school that were exactly like that. like it felt very true to my middle and high school experience so ??? maybe it want what things were like 20 years ago but 10? very much fun exactly like heartstopper. anyways let people enjoy things

#i’m rambling and this barely makes sense but nice queer rep isn’t inherently worse than stuff that isn’t #also heartstopper has never been a sanitized story it’s just season 1 lmao #and they’re literally 14 #heartstopper

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kaizsche · 1 year

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hi, everyone!! this is my ao3 wrapped! (i for real almost forgot to post this... sorry i haven't been writing/posting lately, i've been busy with events here and i'm working as a cleaner/typesetter for a scanlation team! we are quite understaffed and have multiple projects to work on so...🥺🥺)

How many words have you written this year?

92,601k!!! (excluding my wips) wtf i wrote A LOT??

How many works did you publish this year?

31 aiuhdiagdadad

What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?

easy. skuld’s net - that one shot came to me so suddenly and i wrote it for 3 days straight w/o no breaks whatsoever!!!

What work of yours has the most hits?

my star wars one shot fic - the july writing challenge i believe is at 6,544 hits

What work of yours got more feedback than you expected?

my first ever tvd fic, the one inspired by arctic monkey’s 505.

Favorite title you used

in the art of flaw, the bridgerton au fic (shoutout to my friend who helped me make it cause im not exactly great at titles lmao

If you use song lyrics, which artist’s songs did you pull from the most?

young the giant!!! their songs are just *chef's kiss*

Pairing you wrote the most for this year?

this is such an obvious question if you frequently visit my blog. Elejah and klena!!!!!1

Favorite pairing you wrote for this year?

elejah is a ship i’d die for but i think i love writing finnlena the most cause they’re sooo in tune with one another. at least i think they would’ve been if esther did not manipulate him. (i just love finn okay. cause he's so underappreciated?)

What work was the quickest to write?

skuld’s net (a klena fic) i wrote that thing for 3 effin days straight, looped lany’s 13 over and over and over again. (i wasnt aware of his allegations that time so…)

What work took you the longest to write?

in terms of published fics, i think it’s take my breath. it was created on oct 19 then i picked it up a maybe 2-3 weeks ago? then posted it on dec 4 so yeah

How many WIP’s do you have in your docs for next year?

i lost count. there is just too many of them.

What’s your longest work of the year?

the one shot fic writing challenge.

What’s your shortest work of the year?

It’s a lil fic which idea i got from a prompt generator in tumblr - i was quite new back then so i thought that maybe participating in it won’t hurt me. It’s called 709 which is inspired by one of my wips wherein elena returned to the past after death and tried to change her life.

What WIP are you taking into next year with you?

Oh boy, OH BOY this is a long list. I’ll be taking them all with me but the most noteworthy wips would have to be my princess diaries au and the miracle baby au fic for elejah + the elena & katherine time travel fic

What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag?

Probably unedited as hell and kol is a little shit

Your favorite character to write this year?

I think finn. his character in canon is just so unexplored (i haven’t watched the originals so…) and it’s so, so fun to explore his character and adding more to his background.

The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year?

I feel... elijah? Cause i am most certainly not as eloquent as he is with words, so i usually find it hard to write his dialogues and stuff in my fics. (but honestly, i have a hard time with all mikaelsons lmfao)

What’s one pairing you want to explore next year?

I want to explore more of wyler!! (wednesday x tyler) since i’ve just recently joined the fandom and have four wips in my drafts already.

Which work of yours have you reread the most?

I think i have an almost unhealthy obsession with re-reading my work. But it definitely has to be heaven help the fool who falls in love like… i love re-exploring my old ideas (and also wondering where that ‘writer me’ in that era went (cause i literally had to write every single day and not miss a single one whilst delivering good pieces was beyond me.)

How many kudos in total did you get this year?

I’ve got 1,812!

Which work has the most comments?

with 100 comment threads, it’s not at all surprising that its my may writing challenge tvd fic

Did you do any collaborative works this year?

I don’t think i did?

Did you write any gifts this year?

i did for the wyler secret santa event and one for @qvnthesia

Did you receive any gifts this year?

@qvnthesia and i are exchanging fics later this month, so yep! I’m quite excited for that!

What’s your most common category?

easy. f/m

What do you listen to while writing?

I made spotify playlists for each of my pairings, actually. so when i write for a specific ship like klena - i usually turn the volume up for some good ol 505.

Favorite work you wrote this year?

the love of a doppelganger. there’s just something about this fic that i can’t put into words. (it’s my finnlena one) i think it’s about the prospect of giving finn’s character a second chance whilst shedding light as to why his decisions, and his siblings had came to the point of, well, daggering him.

Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

Oh my gosh, as a person whohas short term memory this question is quite hard to answer. Lol. but this line just IDK IT MAKES ME FEEL A CERTAIN WAY, OKAY?!

“You will learn to love me just as you have loved Anakin Skywalker.” He breathes, a promise dressed in the trappings of a threat.

30. Biggest surprise while writing this year?

What honestly surprised me the most is what the tvd fandom did to me, tbh. i’ve been writing fics since 2017, but i’ve never been much hyperfixated like i was with tvd – i think that it also helped me that the fandom has an active community, AND tight-knitted as well we even have a discord server and follow each other on tumblr. So, yeah. I basically not only owe it to the wonderful TVD character (sans the salvatores, thank you.) but also to the people that inspired me, supported me and cheered me on with my fics! (i’m looking at you, @sunless-garden, @qvnthesia, @wazman, @katherineholmes, @amandamonroe, @finnismyoriginalsin, @sevensistersofsussex, and everyone else!!

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 10 months

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This weekend, I rewatched all of James Acaster’s filmed stand-up: Repertoire, Cold Lasagne, and Make a New Tomorrow. I realized it’s been a long time since I’ve seen that stuff – I only watched Repertoire once, in mid-2020, I think, when I was just barely starting to get into this stuff. And I watched Cold Lasagne when it was first released at the end of 2020, and haven’t seen it since.

Putting a cut here because this got rather long. The rest of the post is exactly what the opening suggests, my thoughts on those shows.

I’m glad I went back to it. Honestly, I’d had it stored in my head as “definitely very good comedy, maybe not quite as good as it’s rated just because it’s rated so highly, but it’s very good”, but didn’t remember all the specifics. On a re-watch, I have to say… yeah, credit where it’s due. It deserves the accolades, all of them. It’s fucking brilliant.

It was so interesting to watch Repertoire again, now that I’ve seen so much more stand-up and have better context for it. It’s the gold standard for this type of comedy, isn’t it? I know it’s almost a running joke that every comedian who’s younger than James Acaster (and is of that certain “type”) talks at least a little bit like James Acaster, because everyone is trying to do the thing he got right. Some of the stuff he does is almost taken for granted, as “of course that’s the right way to do that type of stuff”, but it’s that way because James Acaster showed everyone how to do it to perfection. He wasn’t the first person to do it, but he might have been the first person to do a few specific things to that standard. And then he memorized four entire shows at once, well enough to perform them all in one weekend. It’s incredible, it’s genuinely incredible. I’m going to pull out the word “genius” because I don’t know any better word for it.

Repertoire is a masterpiece and I’m sorry if I ever let myself forget that a bit, just from not having actually seen it for so long. It’s nearly perfect. It’s what everyone else is trying to do, when they tack on some callbacks and call it structure. Or even have a big finale that calls back to a bunch of stuff from earlier in the show. James Acaster isn’t doing that – he’s building everything in from the beginning. It’s so full of brick jokes that come back when you least expect them, spread throughout because it was so well planned, nothing tacked on. It’s all more than the sum of its parts.

Almost every link is logical, everything flows together, not just within a show but among the four of them. Repertoire itself is unique, I think, for the way it did that. That’s the sort of thing you sometimes see in a TV show or a movie. Something that tells a bunch of seemingly unconnected stories, but as it goes along you realize there are little connections, and then the ending ties them together. That’s an artistic device used in fiction. It’s groundbreaking to see it done with four separate stand-up hours instead.

And it’s really funny. I don’t think it could be as good a show if it had been initially conceived as Repertoire, if they’d all been written to tie together. Because then, they’d be written first as cogs in an artistic device, and second as comedy shows, and they wouldn’t be as funny. It wasn’t like that. Each of those first three shows were good enough to be a stand-up hour in their own right. A tour show, a festival show, a Perrier-nominated show (literally, all three of them were). All of them were written to that highest comedy standard, and then they were tied together. All the humour still intact, but adding structural stuff to wrap them around the artistic device. And, they were given other updates. Shows that were clearly very good when he first performed them (award nominations and all), but he’d had a few years to think about them, to become a better writer and a better comedian, and to update them accordingly. 2014 material delivered by someone who’d spent three more years developing his style. Repertoire was at least four years in the making (more than that, really, because Recap used material from pre-2014), and it had to be. It takes a year of writing and workshopping and touring and honing to make one show as funny as any individual hour in Repertoire. It takes four years to make all four, if you do them right.

I think the first one, Recognise, might be my favourite, though it’s hard to say as they’re all so good, and I may just be biased toward that one because it’s the one that really reminded me how great he is, while I was expecting it more from the others. I think the undercover cop thing might be my favourite of the three characters. The bit where he plays a recording of the gang he’d infiltrated was incredibly funny. Amazingly, blindingly funny. And he just sits there, not having to say anything because it’s just a recording, with nothing on his face to give away how funny it is. He deadpans through the whole four shows.

Each of the first three shows has its own character – undercover cop, juror, illegal honey salesman who goes into witness protection. But each one also has its own emotional core that rolls out throughout the hour. Represent is about existential anxiety, finding answers in religion and losing answers when you lose religion (I think I once wrote a post that said “Are you even a comedian if you were not raised in a religion that you have left since childhood and now have a complicated relationship with that?”, which would be good because by that rule I could be a comedian), fear that you’ve made all the wrong decisions in life. Reset is about anger, blaming himself but also blaming everyone else, and ultimately, fear that he’d made all the wrong decisions in life. Recap goes into shame about feeling not good enough… and fear that he’d made all the wrong decisions in life. So, you know, there’s an overarching theme. But different emotional stuff in each one too.

Recognise also has some fear of making all the wrong decisions in life, but its emotional centre, mainly, is that it’s essentially a breakup show. A wildly unorthodox one, but still. I think the first time I watched it I assumed he’d made it all up, that the breakup story wasn’t real. Watching it now, I realized that when he talks about a breakup “last year” in his 2014 show, that would line up with when the Louise Ford/Rowan Atkinson thing happened. So, yep, it’s a real story. He probably really drove to the sea and everything.

I think Recognise really hits an amazing balance of weaving the jokes around the emotional bit. The fact that it’s a breakup show reveals itself to you so slowly, so hesitantly, buried in all these jokes. It’s only near that end that it really unravels, but not because he tacked it on as an ending. Because he’d been building it up all the way and only showing you a little at a time. And everything that happened in the meantime was so fucking funny. It feels perfect. It feels like a perfect stand-up comedy show on every level. Perfect structure and perfect jokes and perfect delivery.

It’s perfect from the start – being on his knees to begin with, and having the confidence to not acknowledge that until you almost forget about it, and then he brings it in. Then calling back to that by doing the little thing with his watch later in the show, and even in the other shows, but never drawing attention to it. I think it must take so much discipline to just throw those callbacks away, not giving in to the temptation to draw attention to it and make sure everyone catches it. But it’s so much funnier because he doesn’t call attention to it.

So I want to call Recognise my favourite, but then I remember the one that opens with the Chilean miners celebrity gossip, which is the funniest fucking thing. The closing with the wooden duck. The British Museum bit, obviously. The honey story. The goose and the sloth. Kettering Town FC. The kitchen mirror. Lolipop people in witness protection. The hype man for a log flume. The Christmas in church thing. No more jobs and death is too much of a good thing. Though if I’m listing individual bits, Recognise had some great ones too. Drinking punch on your own. The gang members’ recording. Pictures you put your head in. The free banana. I’d forgotten that the iconic Acaster quote: “Never before have I been so offended by something I 100% agree with” referred to someone saying he thought himself too good for a free banana. Everyone else dreams of reaching James Acaster’s level of being that quirky while remaining that deeply funny.

Some of the best darker-side-of-Acaster quotes were from individual bits in Recognise: “There’s four things you can be in life: sober, tipsy, drunk, and hungover. And of the four, tipsy’s the only one where you don’t cry during it.” “What if every relationship you’ve ever been in is just somebody slowly figuring out they didn’t like you as much as they’d hoped they would?”

I think Recognise is my favourite, but it’s such a close call. And obviously Recap is a delight. The only one that was written specifically for Repertoire, though it draws on old material, so it’s using stuff that went through the vetting process of a proper comedy show, rather than just serving its function in an artistic device. But he wrote a bunch of new stuff to tie the other shows together, and I’m a big fan of comedy that makes connections and ties ends together, so all of Recap was great fun. Making it all make sense, showing us the connections a little at a time. It’s fucking brilliant, every bit of it. Repertoire is a masterpiece that should be studied by anyone who wants to learn how to do stand-up comedy – and apparently has been studied by all those people, if the number of younger comedians who talk like James Acaster is any indication.

And then we come on to Cold Lasagne. The first time I watched it (the only time, up until now), I had a bit of a complicated response to it. I’d recently finished listening to the audiobook of Perfect Sound Whatever, which is a similar story. That book is about how he spent 2017 listening to different music, but it ends up being a story about everything he did in 2017 (including eat cold lasagne while very depressed, which became the name of his show), which is the same basic premise of the Cold Lasagne show. So I’d already heard some of that story before, and of course I’d seen the “Acaster’s girlfriend left him for Mr. Bean” headlines.

Perfect Sound Whatever left me with a mixed response as well. I liked it. It was funny, interesting, insightful, well written. I enjoyed the journey on which he took me, even if I had no interest in listening to any of the music he recommended. I definitely do not share James Acaster’s taste in music, but I share his taste in observations and ruminations, which is what mattered.

Perfect Sound Whatever was the first thing that made me describe James Acaster the way I think I’d still describe him: as my favourite comedian whom I wouldn’t want to know in real life. Most comedians I like, I think seem like cool people and knowing them would be fun. James Acaster… obviously I don’t know what it’s actually like to know him. But I know that Perfect Sound Whatever painted a picture of a person whom I think would be a nightmare to know. And Cold Lasagne further embellished that picture. It furthered both clauses in what I say about him – made me even more sure he’s one of my favourite comedians, and even more sure he’d be a nightmare in real life. Of all the comedians I wouldn’t want to know in real life, he’s definitely the best one.

Cold Lasagne is a multi-breakup show – I count five breakups in it. Three girlfriends, an agent, and a therapist. And in listening to the show… I kept finding myself taking the side of the other people. Not every time. That therapist story is horrifying, I genuinely hope he reported her to whatever board oversees her, that is a wild breach of ethics and she should never work anywhere near that field again.

So I’m not on his therapist’s side. But I think I’m probably on the agent’s side. I am, at least, curious to know how that story would sound if we actually heard the agent’s side of it (as opposed to his joke in the show that he was telling us the agent’s side, which, to be fair, was a funny joke). He talked about the agent saying he was sick of James yelling and swearing down the phone at him. I think what got to me so much about that show was how much James Acaster sounded like some specific people I’ve known. People who deal with their own issues by yelling and swearing at other people, who will suddenly blow up on you if you criticize them even slightly, people who go between blaming themselves for everything and refusing to take any blame – and yes, knowing them does at times feel like being in an abusive relationship. Honestly, that’s what I mean when I say I had a bit of a “complicated” response to that show. I came out of it rather shaken, because the way he vividly described some of his own behaviour reminded me of some people I know who are like that, and left me with a visceral reminder of how scary and horrible it is to know them. Having said that, that doesn’t by any means mean it’s scary and horrible to know James Acaster, it means he told a few stories about how he acted at a few specific times, and I projected onto to that with my own experiences of people who act that way all the time, which is a completely different thing and it’s not his fault that I was projecting.

(PSA: Please, please, do not take this as me saying “I think James Acaster is an abuser.” I was referencing a specific line in the show, in which he said his agent told him that working with him was like being in abusive relationship. He said this as a way to show us how horrible his agent was, because that was a horrible thing to say. I’m suggesting that maybe his agent wasn’t that wide of the mark, in terms of how one specific type of professional relationship could occasionally feel when it was at its worst point. That is extremely different from saying anything about the person as a whole.)

Cold Lasagne did also venture into the territory of talking about specific people with whom he’d had contentious relationships, which can be dicey when you’re saying it on stage and then releasing a recording of it on the internet. But I actually think he’s okay there. The stuff about Mr. Bean was clearly well thought out, was mainly about him and not them, and if your girlfriend leaves you for Mr. Bean I think you should be allowed to tell people that. I also thought he was fine to read out the texts from his therapist, specifically because they were so egregiously unethical that that shit should be on the news with her real name attached, just to make sure her reputation is so thoroughly ruined that she can never do that job again.

I thought he was in the clear on that one, in Cold Lasagne, at least. Bits of Perfect Sound Whatever did make me a little uncomfortable, when I felt like I was learning more about Rose Matafeo’s romantic life than she had consented to have me, a stranger to both of them, learn. I thought this when I heard the book a few years ago, and then last year, Rose Matafeo went on Adam Buxton’s podcast to say that James Acaster had never even told her he was going to write about her in that book, she didn’t know he’d written about her until a member of the public asked her about some details of her relationship that she’d never shared or wanted to share publicly, and that’s not a good thing to do to someone.

To be clear, it’s not like he was writing out all the details, or, to use a British phrase “slagging her off” in the book (maybe a few comments that could be read as passive-aggressive about her, but not openly insulting in any way). If he’d done that to his ex-girlfriend, I wouldn’t be writing this post, I wouldn’t consider myself a fan of his anymore at all. He didn’t cross a line like that. But I think he did cross a couple of lesser lines. To be fair, lots of comedians I like have put details of their ex-relationships in their shows. But most of them aren’t talking about ex-partners who are also in the public eye, and everyone in the audience knows who they are, and they haven’t been given any opportunity to say they’re okay with it being out there. James Acaster was very careful about that, when telling the Louise Ford/Rowan Atkinson story. Made sure the focus was on himself, made sure he wasn’t giving away any private details that people could connect back to this woman who works in the public eye so they could easily look her up. I wish he’d extended the same courtesy to Rose Matafeo.

So, those are some of my personal/emotional reactions to Cold Lasagne. I also had other personal/emotional reactions, like saying I can absolutely see where he’s coming from with a lot of the mental health stuff, he talked about difficult subjects in an honest and hard-hitting way, I’ve been there and so have a lot of people and what he described resonated. I have also had several days in my life when I was listening to people have a normal conversation about what they did the night before, and thinking that what I did was call a suicide hotline but I can’t exactly mention that. Solid observation about how weird that is, James, I’d never heard anyone else bring that up before.

And then there are my reactions to that show as a comedy fan, which is… fucking masterpiece, obviously. Obviously. Very well written, very funny in all but the absolute darkest parts, and those darkest parts are also done very well. Kept me fully engaged for the entire runtime, even though it was just over two hours. Kept up the energy all the way through. Went up and down and back up and back down again (in terms of tone, not quality, the quality stayed high), over and over. Covered so much ground but it all fit together, all connected in various ways, had callbacks spread across two hours. Took the audience on one hell of a journey. And yes, it is very fucking funny that a woman left him for Mr. Bean. He’s right, he deserves credit for having that story and managing to wait so long to tell it.

And this re-watch reminded me that it wasn’t all dramatic breakup stuff and calling suicide hotlines. He had good observations in there. Good political stuff, near the beginning. A quirky routine about hot chocolate. Stuff about comedy audiences and alienation that was hilarious. Good stuff about when you’re trying to sleep and night and remember that you’ll die someday. It deserves all the accolades, it really does.

I’m really glad I re-watched those shows, as I’d forgotten just what they were like. They’re top-notch comedy. I decided to re-watch them because I’ve been listening to the Comedian’s Comedian podcast, and Acaster’s done five episodes of that (one in 2013, a two-parter in early 2018 from just before Repertoire was released, and another two-parter in late 2020 from when Cold Lasagne was released), and I wanted to listen to those episodes, but figured I’d get more out of them if those comedy shows are fresh in my mind. So I’m off to listen to that stuff, I’ll let you know what fascinating comedy insights he has.

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