#uhhhh the way I’ve seen this before?? but only in my minds eye and lemme tell ya that was pretty darn good but uh | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

junetuesday · 4 years

Text

sweetener - [thirteen]

Good Vibes and Good Times

Pairing: Tom Holland x Female Reader - uni AU

Word Count: 5338

Warnings: alcohol, smut (fun stuff that i dont want to spoil by putting a warning for lmao), more alcohol, food, cuteness, fluff

A/N: not to toot my own horn but another update within a month???? who is she??? lemme know what you think of this chapter there’s some stuff in here i’ve never written before (and i kinda went off on a tangent oops) so im interested to hear your thoughts! as always thank you for the love on the last chapter and this series in general, it really means the world to me!

Add yourself to my taglist(s)

Updates: stay tuned....tentatively scheduled for march 1st?

As far as you were concerned, Refreshers Week was off to a great start. Though it was supposed to be a repeat of the first week of the academic year (aka Freshers Week), filled with nights out, drinking, and yet more nights out, you were taking a slightly different route this time.

You’d woken up from your post-Nandos nap on Friday to Liv knocking on your door telling you to get up and start getting ready after she’d gotten no reply to her text messages. You and Tom had slept a little longer than you’d intended, but you supposed that was your own fault for not setting an alarm. After speedily getting ready, you both joined the girls and Jack and a few of Liv’s friends downstairs for predrinks and a few rounds of Ring of Fire. The night got a bit blurry after the dirty pint you had to down hit you in the taxi on the way to the SU, but from what you did remember you had a good night, and the rest of the weekend was spent hungover, snoozing, eating junk food, and just generally enjoying your new found freedom.

Come Monday night, you and Tom were curled up together on the sofa in your living room. There was a “special guest” at the union, which meant they were charging £25 a ticket for some DJ you had never heard of, so both of you had decided to stay in and have some drinks at home instead. Madison and Liv had gone out and gone to predrinks elsewhere, so you had the house to yourselves - which meant you could watch a movie downstairs on the TV instead of in your room on your laptop. It also meant that instead of being squished together on your bed you were lounging on the sofa (not that you minded being squished, but still). You had your back to the arm of the sofa, your legs laying across Tom’s lap while he sat with his feet propped up on the coffee table, a blanket covering your both your legs.

“Can I ask you something?” he said after taking a sip of his drink, lowering his glass to rest on your blanket-covered thigh as you nodded. “What’s going on in this film?”

A valid question - one you weren’t sure anyone really knew the answer to.

“To be honest,” you chuckled, “I don’t really know? I’ve seen it like six times and I still don’t really get it but I still enjoy it.”

“Right...okay.”

“Plus,” you raised your glass, gesturing at the TV. “Look at baby Jake Gyllenhaal - in’t he cute?”

Tom laughed at that, shrugging. “I guess?”

“It’s nearly over anyway.”

That was a lie, it wasn’t nearly over, but you had a feeling you probably weren’t going to make it through the entirety of Donnie Darko this evening. On several occasions you’d felt Tom’s eyes on you, but each time you’d looked over at him out of the corner of your eye he’d been staring straight ahead at the TV, or looking down at his glass as he took a drink, or otherwise not looking at you.

After one such occasion, you set your now empty glass down on the table, licking your lips as you swallowed the last of your wine. You were feeling a little tipsy by then, the tips of your fingers and the depths of your belly starting to feel tingly. Lower parts of your body were also feeling a little something too, and while the wine probably did have something to do with it, it was also because of the boy beside you.

Your right arm rested across the back of the sofa behind his head, your fingers beginning to card through his hair. You kept your vision fixed straight ahead, eyes on the TV screen as your fingertips brushed his skin, rubbing gentle circles at the edge of his hairline behind his ear. Sat so close together, you practically on top of him, you could hear his breathing shift as he took a deep breath in. You looked over at him again as he exhaled, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed harshly. This time he met your gaze, his eyes flicking down to your lips as his tongue darted out to wet his own before tilting his head to kiss you.

You sat up more as the kiss quickly deepened, though the positioning of your bodies on the sofa made the angle a little awkward. You hardly noticed, though, and before long Tom’s glass was sat beside yours on the coffee table, the blanket was discarded on the floor, and you were climbing into his lap, your knees either side of his thighs on the sofa. Your hands cupped his face as your lips reconnected, his holding your waist - though they didn’t stay there for very long, roaming your body as you kissed deeply, messily, all probing tongues and panted breaths. Grinding down onto him, you could feel him growing harder through his sweatpants, pressing against you through the soft material.

“We should, um” you swallowed, trying to focus as Tom’s hand in your hair tilted your head to the side so he could kiss along your jaw. “Should go upstairs...”

He hummed against your skin like he agreed, but then he started sucking on your neck, so it was all a little contradictory. Still, you reasoned, you might as well let him finish what he started, so you closed your eyes, leaning into his hand and rolling your hips against his as his teeth nipped at your skin.

Once he was done there though, you knew you really should move things up to your room - partly because it’s just common courtesy not to have sex on communal areas of the house, and partly because these sofas were here when you moved in and you dreaded to even think what horrors they had seen, let alone get naked on them. So, you placed your hands on Tom’s shoulders to steady yourself and pulled back, feeling a little wobbly as you got to your feet - for various reasons, from the wine, to him kissing your neck, to your legs starting to go numb from being folded up underneath you. Once you were upright you held out your hands, tugging Tom up off the sofa and towards the stairs.

You parted ways halfway up, sending him on up to your room while you made a pittstop at the bathroom. You checked your reflection in the mirror as you dried your hands - a little dishevelled, sure, your hair ruffled and swollen, but you were pretty sure that was mostly Tom’s doing so you weren’t too concerned about fixing it. Alcohol and lust were at just such a point in your system that you were, shall we say, feeling yourself more than you would have been on an average Monday night, a little pep in your step as you made your way up to your bedroom.

Opening your door, you saw Tom sitting on the edge of your bed, and it was only as you reached behind you to shut the door that you noticed what he was actually doing.

“What are you doing?”

You were frozen, your hand still clasped around your door handle as your eyes flicked back and forth between the bottom drawer of your bedside cabinet and Tom, who was sitting staring into it.

“Nothing!” He blurted, looking up at you with an innocent smile on his face before turning back to the open drawer. “What’s that?”

What’s that?? He knew full well what it was, and you both knew it.

“It’s - I-”

“I wasn’t like, going through your stuff or anything,” Tom’s eyes went wide as he turned his attention back to you, shaking his head hurriedly. “I mean I guess I was but not like that, I was just going to get a thing- a condom- ‘cause, I dunno I thought-”

“It’s okay,” you said as you finally moved further into your room, beginning to try and gather your thoughts into something besides ahhhh!!!!! and oh???. You really hadn’t expected to come upstairs to find Tom discovering your vibrator, but sometimes life’s like that, you supposed - full of surprises.

“...sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you said again as you approached him, managing an awkward chuckle this time.

“...can I look at it?”

An odd mixture of embarrassed and exhilarated and turned on and just plain uhhhh???? filled your mind and body as you considered Tom’s question. Quite honestly, you’d forgotten it was even in there, seeing as you hadn’t used it in a while. You’d had no need to, your sexual pleasure quite literally out of your hands as of late - and when you were using it, it was hardly something you advertised. The girls didn’t even know you had it - it was like your little secret. But maybe it didn’t have to be..?

“I guess?”

You sat down beside him as he reached into the drawer, into the little box where you kept the condoms you’d gotten from Liv, and plucked your vibrator from its hiding place. The little purple bullet fit neatly in the palm of his hand, about three inches long and tapered into a point at one end. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from giggling as Tom held his hand out flat, lifting it up to get a closer look as though he was holding some sort of rare lizard.

“How does it work?”

“There’s a button on the-”

“-oh right, okay.” Tom cut you off as you gestured to the end closest to his wrist, turning the bullet in his hand.

Holding it like you would a pen, he clicked the button on top, his eyes widening as it began to vibrate.

“You can click it again,” you chuckled quietly. “It’s got like different settings.”

“Oh...OH. Jesus Christ-”

You giggled as Tom cycled through the varying patterns and intensities, watching his reactions.

“Yeah, to be honest I think there’s too many like, it’s not really necessary.”

“Oh yeah? Which ones don’t you like, then? Or, I guess, which ones do you like?”

“Ahhhh,” you covered your face with your hands, feeling your cheeks hot beneath your palms as you groaned. “I dunno, this is weird…”

Tom laughed at that, and when you peeked out from between your fingers at him you could see he had a cheeky smile plastered across his face.

“Why’s it weird?”

“I dunno…”

To be fair to him, you didn’t really have an answer to that. Perhaps it was because you’d felt uncomfortable about buying a sex toy in the first place, like by purchasing something purely for your own sexual pleasure as as single girl you were somehow committing to being alone, as though it were some sort of symbol that you didn’t have someone else to give you orgasms, or something like that. Which you knew was ridiculous when you really thought about it, something that was likely rooted in the notion that women shouldn’t really enjoy sex or watch porn or that they don’t (or rather shouldn’t) masturbate - and they certainly shouldn’t be buying things with which to pleasure themselves. You hadn’t thought about it as explicitly as that at the time, of course, it was only after a drunken heart-to-heart with a random girl in the toilets of the SU about feminism and the patriarchy that you linked your embarrassment about ordering a vibrator online with internalised misogyny. In any case, all that internal toing and froing had quickly dissipated once you used it for the first time and you came so quickly and so hard you had to have a little lie down afterwards. But even still, having Tom see it, talking to him about it, maybe even using it with him, was entirely different. Somehow. Despite the fact that you’d been extremely intimate with him on several occasions already...he’d literally seen your arsehole, for Christ’s sake. Okay, so maybe it’s not that weird…if anything this is less intimate than like, oral, right?

Tom leaned back on the bed while you were trying to decide whether or not you felt “weird”, propping himself up on his elbows and passing your vibrator to his left hand so that it was on his other side - meaning that if you wanted to take it from him, you’d have to lean over him. Little shit.

Twisting to face him, you held out your hand and fixed what you hoped was a stern expression to your face.

“Give it to me.”

Tom glanced between you and your vibrator, securely clutched in his hand, narrowing his eyes when he looked at you.

“Why?”

“...Because.”

You reached across him to try and grab it, but he was faster, stretching his arm up out of your reach as he laughed.

“That’s not an answer!”

Your arm stretched out too, but you couldn’t quite reach. Your body draped over his as you leant over him, trying to reach his hand. Flat on his back on the bed, Tom pushed his feet against the floor to scramble further back onto the bed. You clambered on top of him, both of you giggling drunkenly as you clawed at his wrist - until his right hand was pulling your face down to meet his, and you felt him laugh against your lips before he kissed you.

Your hand fell away from his like you’d forgotten what you were reaching for, your fingers weaving into the curls at the back of his neck instead. Your hands in his hair kept him close as the two of you rolled over, his body a pleasant weight on top of your own. You were vaguely aware of the dull sound of the bullet vibrating low and steady in his fist somewhere beside you as you kissed, but you became rather more attuned to it when he started to trail it slowly down your side. Tom shifted off you slightly, and you let your leg fall to the side as he traced a line with the tip of the bullet, across your hip and down towards your inner thighs, following the seam of your knickers through the thin material of your leggings.

You sighed as he started kissing your neck again, picking up where he left off downstairs. In for a penny, in for a pound, I guess.

Reaching down, you placed your hand over his, clicking the button on the vibrator until it was vibrating in waves, steadily growing stronger with each turn before fading away again. You guided Tom’s hand to slowly tease your pussy through your clothes, rubbing the length of the bullet up and down between your folds.

He pulled back from kissing your neck then, watching your face as he copied your movements. Satisfied he would keep going unassisted, you soon let go of his hand. You could hear your heart beating in your ears, hear the sound of your own breathing, shaky and heavy as you closed your eyes and let yourself relax fully. You could feel it building already, the knot deep inside your abdomen beginning to tighten as the ebb and flow of the vibrations brought you closer and closer each time.

You tensed, sucking in a breath when Tom pulled his hand away, but relaxed again once he tucked his hand inside your underwear - until he clicked the button again, changing the settings abruptly.

“Oh shit, sorry- ”

“S’okay,” you breathed, a small smile on your face as you opened your eyes. “Press it again though, I don’t like that one.”

He chuckled and shook his head, but did as you asked.

“Thanks.”

You reached up to clasp the back of his neck, angling your face up to his as you pulled him into a kiss, feeling him smirking against your lips before they connected. Though he’d changed it by accident, you usually switched to this setting for a while anyway. The vibrations were stronger now, short bursts that grew longer and closer together until it was one long, powerful vibration, before reverting back and cycling through again and again.

The hand that wasn’t tangled in Tom’s hair moved back between your thighs, covering his through your clothes to press the bullet more firmly against your clit. Your mouth fell open against his as you felt yourself hurtling closer and closer to release.

“P-press it four times,” you managed to mutter, and he seemed to hear you though it came out strained and muffled against his lips because his hand shifted under yours and the vibrations shifted to a continuous, powerful blast.

“Oh fuck-”

Your back arching and thighs tensing, your hips lifted off the bed. Your hand over his keeping the bullet pressed firmly to your clit, your head dropped back against the pillows and you moaned loudly as you came hard. Grinding against the vibrator and Tom’s hand, your hips rocked back and forth until your orgasm had finally finished washing over you and you let your hand fall onto the bed beside you.

Taking the hint, Tom pulled the toy away and out of your leggings - though he pressed it against your clit again over your clothes, just for a second until you squeaked, your body twitching at the overstimulation.

“Sorry, just wanted to see what would happen.”

You rolled your eyes but laughed breathlessly - you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t done the same yourself. You watched as Tom clicked the button on the bullet to cycle through the settings until it was turned off, a curious expression on his face as he did so.

“What?”

“Nothing…” he shook his head, finally tearing his eyes away from the bullet in his hand to look at you. “So you don’t actually need me like, at all, really?”

You scoffed at that, sitting up a bit and propping yourself up on your elbows.

“It’s not the same. Like, that doesn’t bring me coffee in the library or take me to McDonald’s at half ten at night.”

“Ohh,” Tom smirked, “so it’s mainly just food and beverages that you want from me?”

“Shut up, you know that’s not what I meant.”

You shook your head with a laugh as you pushed at his chest until he fell onto his back, climbing on top of him and reaching for the hem of your t shirt to pull it off over your head before you leant down and kissed him.

“So is it like a ‘friends with benefits’ type thing?”

It felt like you’d been having this conversation for days. Maybe it was because after Tom left on Tuesday afternoon you’d found yourself thinking about what exactly it was that you wanted from him if it wasn’t food and beverages, and now it was Wednesday evening and you were being interrogated while getting ready to go out.

“Er, no not really,” you shook your head distractedly, focusing on curling the back of your friend Ruby’s hair without burning her or yourself.

Ruby, one of your best friends from high school, had texted you the day before asking if you were free for an last minute visit as her lectures had gotten cancelled and she, quite rightly, felt it was time for you to catch up, seeing as you hadn’t seen each other properly over Christmas. You immediately accepted, of course, briefing her on the fancy dress theme for Wednesday night - Angels v Devils. You were going as an angel, mostly because you had a new white dress you wanted to wear, while Liv and Madison were going as devils. Ruby’s costume was to be decided by whichever accessory she could find in Claire��s Accessories on her way to the train station - which turned out to be a white fluffy halo, so you ended up with another angel on your side.

The timing of her impromptu visit actually worked out quite well anyway, because it being a Wednesday meant that Tom was off doing AU stuff with the rest of the rugby boys. They hadn’t actually played a match yet this term, but as far as you could work out being part of the Athletics Union was as much about socials and going out as it was about actual sports. Someone on the team had had the foresight to order a huge pack of devil horns online, so they were all going as devils. They’d also started drinking around 3pm, so by the time you started getting ready at 7 you’d already seen a slew of ‘horny devil’ jokes and stories on social media.

And anyway, as much as you’d enjoyed getting ready and predrinking with Tom on Friday, you were happy to be having some good old fashioned girl time, all getting ready together in Madison’s room and having a few drinks as you got ready - plus, it gave you time to bring Ruby up to speed with your love life. In all honesty, if she hadn’t been there you probably wouldn’t have brought it up at all, but you figured you should give her a heads up because it was highly likely you’d see Tom at some point during the night, and you didn’t want to have to awkwardly try and define the nature of your relationship in front of him.

“So he’s not your boyfriend?” Ruby looked up at you through her hair as you curled the last few sections.

“No,” you shook your head more decisively this time.

“But you’re not seeing anyone else, are you?”

“Nope.”

“And neither is he?”

“No - well,” you paused, considering for a moment. “I presume so, I haven’t asked.”

“Why not ask?” Madison interjected from her spot on the bed where she sat, already dressed and ready, drinking vodka lemonade through a straw.

“Because…” you shrugged, returning your attention to doing your makeup now that Ruby’s hair was done. “I dunno. I don’t feel like I need to? Like it’s just...it’s fine.”

“Right…” Madison didn’t sound 100% convinced, but she moved on anyway and directed her next question at Liv, who was currently doing her eyebrows. “What about you and Harrison, is that the same?”

“Yeah, I guess,” she shrugged, tilting her head to see her brows from all angles in the mirror she had propped up against a stack of textbooks on Mads’ desk. “Like, we’re not a thing, but like, it’s a thing, you know?”

You didn’t know, but you also felt the same way about you and Tom, so you just nodded and went back to applying liberal amounts of highlighter to your cheekbones (and your brow bone, and your nose, and basically your entire face, because if you can’t glow when you’re an angel, when can you?)

By the time all four of you were ready to officially start predrinking you were already a couple of drinks deep (or more than a couple in Madison’s case), so by the time you got to the union you were all more than ready for a dance. Wednesday nights were typically the cheesy pop night, which suited you just fine, and though your friends claimed not to really be that into it you knew they’d be singing along as loud as anyone when What Makes You Beautiful came on. First port of call had to be the ladies’, however, as you had all well and truly broken the seal.

The second stop was the shot bar, which was probably an ill-advised choice seeing as none of you needed to be doing shots at that point in time, but you had a guest, so you had to give her the full SU experience, and that included the shot bar - which was where you bumped into Harrison. You weren’t sure whether he just happened to be passing or whether Liv had summoned him, but either way he was there with his arm around her shoulders and clinking shot glasses with you, Mads, and Ruby too just for good measure.

He pointed over to the dancefloor, and though you couldn’t really hear what he was saying you followed where he was pointing to and spotted a group of boys in the middle of the floor, and you guessed that Tom was amongst them. You nodded to show you understood, but you were torn - you were supposed to be spending time with Ruby, so you didn’t want to seem like you were ditching her for Tom. Luckily for you, she seemed to have witnessed your exchange with Harrison and gathered what was going on, because she just downed her shot, gestured over to the boys, and yelled ‘wanna go over?’ in your ear, so your decision was kind of made for you.

Weaving your way through the crowd, you made your way over to the group, Harrison leading the way. Tom saw him first, nodded in acknowledgement, and went to turn back to whoever he was talking to before he spotted you behind him. You could feel the grin spreading across your face as you squeezed past Harrison, wrapping your arms around Tom’s shoulders as his wrapped around your waist in a bone-crushing hug. He swayed slightly as he squeezed you, so you guessed he was about as intoxicated as you were.

“This is my friend Ruby,” you shouted in his ear as you separated, gesturing over your shoulder to her.

You turned to her and pointed to Tom with your right hand, the fingers of your left hand slotting between Tom’s as his hand slipped into yours. “This is um… this is Tom.”

You laughed to yourself as you introduced him - you’d discussed him at length at pres, so he hardly needed an introduction, but it felt like the proper thing to do. You were pretty sure neither of them heard a word you said over the music anyway, but both Tom and Ruby raised a hand and waved politely at one another, which only made you laugh more - which did make Tom look at you questioningly, but you just shook your head and shouted ‘nothing!’ at him.

Laughing turned out to be a running theme for the night, and you ended up spending the majority of the night as one giant group - which was very fun for you, if a little annoying for everyone else around you. As it was though, you were all too drunk to care about other students, so it didn’t bother you at all that you took up most of the dancefloor and were by far the loudest group when it came to singing along to some pop classics. By the time the lights came on and you all got herded downstairs by security, your camera roll was full of new memories - selfies with Ruby, selfies with Tom, plenty of group photos taken by random people who were unfortunate enough to get accosted by Liv - all of which you swore would be nice (spoiler alert: most of them were not nice, though there were some fun ones from predrinks as well as a cute one of you and Tom that you set as your contact photo for him as you lay in bed hungover waiting for Ruby to wake up the next morning).

Pushing tables and chairs together, you all sat together trying to eat enough greasy food to soak up all the alcohol in your bodies while you waited for your taxis (much to the annoyance of the union staff, not that any of you noticed). You and Tom sat a little way away from the rest of the group, picking at a large portion of cheesy chips with one hand each, your other hands clasped together on your knee under the table.

“Oh, I meant to ask you something.”

“‘kay,” you glanced up at Tom, but mostly focusing on the chips in front of you. “Actually, I need to tell you something first.”

“Okay,” Tom nodded, popping another chip into his mouth.

“Did you know…” You paused, possibly for a little longer than was necessary, but you got distracted pulling off another chip from the lump of potato and cheese in the tray.

“Did I know what?” Tom probed, nudging your knee with his.

“I’m getting to it!” you rolled your eyes, finally breaking the exceptionally long string of cheese that was preventing you from eating your chip and shoving it into your mouth. “Did you know that I fancied you for ages?”

“Oh?”

You didn’t really know what prompted you to say it - truth be told you weren’t really thinking too clearly, but now you’d started you couldn’t stop.

“Mmhmm, like in first year I hardly ever bought coffee on campus, and then- ” you paused again to eat another chip “-then I started buying it all the time from you, so really it’s your fault.”

“What’s my fault?” Tom laughed, his knee bouncing against yours as he shifted in his seat.

His laugh made you look up from your food, and then you started looking at the devil horns poking out from in between his curls and you sort of lost your train of thought (not that you even really had one to begin with).

“I dunno,” you shrugged, “just is.”

“Well...sorry?” he tilted his head and furrowed his brow, framing it as more of a question than an apology.

“S’okay,” you shrugged, squeezing his hand as you smiled. “What were you gonna ask me anyway?”

“Oh yeah,” Tom squeezed your hand back as he spoke. “Would you, I was gonna say- do you wanna come and watch me play in like, two weeks? I mean, it won’t just be me it’ll be like, the whole team - obviously - and another team-”

You’d been nodding the whole time he was rambling, your answer decided almost as soon as he’d said ‘do you wanna come’, but you realised you were probably going to have to say something verbal to interrupt him.

“Yeah, sure.”

“-oh okay, cool.”

“You better win though,” you raised your eyebrows at him, kicking his foot under the table.

“Obviously,” he scoffed, grabbing a handful of chips as he bumped his knee against yours.

You weren’t even halfway through your chips when your taxis finally arrived, but thankfully Tom let you take the box home with you - a gesture which earned him a kiss on the cheek from you and a hug from Madison, who had eagerly tucked in as soon as she came over to tell you your cab was outside. As might have been expected, Liv went back with Harrison (and Tom, who very astutely opted to sit in the front seat rather than squeeze in the back beside them) so you, Ruby, and Madison shared a taxi home, and by the time you eventually climbed into bed it was sometime after four am. It would have been earlier, only you were determined to take your makeup off before you fell asleep because you’d put on fresh sheets for Ruby staying over and you didn’t want to stain the pillow case. Which was admirable, really, only your fine motor skills weren’t too hot just then, so you spent a lot of time just rubbing mascara around your face with a make up wipe before eventually just giving up, flipping your pillow over and getting into bed.

“Your friends are nice,” Ruby yawned as she snuggled in beside you. “I approve.”

You just hummed back happily - you were already falling asleep, but you were glad to hear your home and uni friends got along. You were just thinking about how nice it is when different parts of your life overlap and it works out nicely, when your phone buzzed with a text.

“Tom’s nice too,” you heard Ruby murmur sleepily as you pulled your phone out from under your pillow. “I like him.”

“Yeah,” you muttered back as you read the message on your screen. “Me too.”

Tom Holland Glad u got home ok Goodnight angel x

⋘TWELVE | FOURTEEN⋙

TAGLISTS:

PERMANENT: @morganstarks @applenter @littlegreenpill @que-es-life @aussie-holland @tiny-friggin-human @parkerstylesperalta @pineapplwz @desir-ae @parker-holland-osterfield @fallingspidey @whothehellisbucky @hotchocolattee @parkerpuff @dangerousluv1 @unfortunatekiwitrash @thwip-it-real-good @aesthetic-png @spiderboythomas @tomhollandsbitch @fragilebeautifulchaos @trustfundparker @undiadeestos @yourwonderbelle @steve-avengers-rogers @xxtomxo @starksparker @spiderboytotherescue @dahliaspidey @newsienewsie @iknowisoundcrazy @lala-florez @marshmallow-babe @sessi03 @crazy-bout-books @parkersvibes @captainbuckyy @toomuchdaegu @peterparkoure @imagine-lovebug @permanentlyenchanted @deathofmissjackson @txmhoelland @solarspidey @keep-bears-wild @awkwardfangirl2014 @nedthegay @spider-babes @supernatural-girl97 @fallinallinjapan @popculture-parker @littlebookbengal @joonmail @chubby-cheek-calum @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @quinjetboi @honeymoonparker @madeinthemidnightmemories @timelock97 @therealcap @jurassicparker @soccerstud004 @kaleidoscopic-sunflower @fairydustparker @babyplutoszx2 @hollandfanficlove @adayasgeorgia @ultrunning @hannahholland1811 @scaryaryanna @bellsclarkee @imayhavemisunderstood @altuniverse @detroitbydark @peterparkersbodyguard @1022bridgetp @wdwimagine @uwu-peter-parker-uwu @thwippeter @itsvianny @laucontrerasv @misspepper07 @larrypetrova @neverletyoufall @stretchkingblog97 @jiminielatte @baebeepeach @unholyhaz @nicole-lynne @sargent-s @hcneybugs @rxsesinjune @hollandlovely @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @miraclesoflove @sarahkatexoxo @anything-and-everythingg20 @peterpandco @musiclover1263 @alexv2902 @fulltime-fangirl-k @glascatt @lauras-collection @violet-lilyy @sedulouswrtr @sweetenergloss @tom-hollands-blog @qrangr @chewie-redbird @bearsbeetsbarnes @alexs-mardy-bum @scarletpparker @gwens-spiders @mountaintreemountain @youllbemineandillbeyours @itsjusttor @captainsteverodgersgirl @thelittlemisssunshine @s-lou-g @superspideyy @forggetablle @realiteaas @iamcalledsteph @au-shay-lia @emistrash @awwyeaahh @tobleroneshawn @silverdragontail @mcutomholland @aclassypuppy @peteunderoos @badhollandfluff @totesem @imsuperawkward @tiny-twat-turtle @the-claire-bitch-project @nixedloved @zeeneee @spxder-bxcky @girl-of-a-thousand-universes @queenofthefangirls7 @lovely-luke @pastelpinkbubbles @justcallmehitgirl @maybemona @space-holland @hoefourholland @marvelsangels @tomspidertingle @loveyou3000tony-stark @pandabear2600 @writerwithsometalent @efisso @romanoff-nataliaalianovna @marshyrebelcloud @starlightparker @lilsxtan @jillanaholland @what--you--egg @sunshine96love @a-parker14 @no-no-notorious-writes @angelhaz11 @relise-thefury @its-the-unknownspidey @dorbiksbitch @nerd-domland @isingidanceidothings @mukesnugget @cassiopeiaskies @morbiddanvers @infamousmany @stiles-banshees @dreams-with-thoughts @pahoehoehoe @wonderfulsparklydirt @jennasblog @fanficscuziranout @happy-el @coffee-and-stories @frustratingpaperclip @shininfate @castawayclaires @siriuslyslyslytherin @yourmum792 @supernaturalyloki @goradgirl @imboredat2am @lowkey-holland @dancingunicorn113 @rebekkah4766 @young-psychos

// CAN’T TAG: @tiny-parker @holland-underoos @bilkyrie @enchantingkittengladiator @spideytrash @hauntedbysilence @gia-knows @cutesparker @princerowanwhitethorngalathynius @parkersindustrys @swagsoulpenguin @angryrantsstuff @peter-beter-barker @aulxna @hazelglimmer @hazehurricane @amazingjordanjazzyisnotonfire @itsrecklesscalum @lexa-bean @spideyxsquared @thomasxspidey @liveholland @alexiatheclown @hazssouthernbelle @just-a-human-bitch @juneholland @imdrunkisuposse @gendryia @tyemmamarvel @thatweirdomimic @i-stan-brie-larson @darlingxholland @boyfriendholland @lostandinsecure @deartomhardy

SWEETENER: @5secondsofalphas @spiderrpcrker @lexshead @boundtorain @ohmyquackson @tomhaz @gioandreolli @writtenbypics @iamscribby519 @violet-lilyy @crazyfreaker @redmxnn @splashofbi @sweetest--sorrow @peterbparkerr @rhapsodyparker @mismatchingsocks @kindheartsclub @tommybaholland @tommyhollandaisesauce @oh-my-fancan @hufflepuff-always-and-forever @captiveties @alwaysafanficwriter @particularmila @little-hoseok @danny-the-coolest @plxstic-rose @makesmefeelalive @misslexilouwho @stop-wonder-think @hollandhomie @buckyofthemyscira @killer-barnes @spicywrites @softboyparkerr @rosieredcheeks @hypnotized-so-mesmerized @misspepper07 @suckzdiangelo @hollandhearts @wizliar @thatasthma @kermitsnumberonefan @nxthernlightsjpg @stevesscoops @sunspellman @pretty-parkerr @dah-knee-cuh @spidey-holland-96 @glader-groupa-sub8 @marvelous-babe-3000 @sannahkhan @a-filmbypeterparker @i-fellinahole @thewackywriter @i-want-all-the-cheetos @spidergirl192327 @imfreefallinall @amberthefiredemon @peaky-shelby @1-800-i-didnt-ask @nightfire098 @ivyrivers @whatevsholland @realityisabitch07 @nine-butterflies @marveltho @di3connected @panic-at-space-camp @too-many-lanes @anxious-diabetic @yamyam515 @ya-lame @house-arya @sweetest66 @apple-scruffs @louvegoods @chaoticbuck @anna-cheyenne @thomaslefteyebrow @welldamnshawn @woodstockbrb @softbaby-tom @iriaaarb @princesof-theuniverse @ghouls-buddy @chubbybunny111 @worldoftom @sweet-baby-cakes @harrysfloppyhair @localforeiigner @thomasstanley-h @blurry-irwin @thebrighteststarr @head-auror-potter @rubberducky-jrr @thinkoutsidethebex

// CAN’T TAG: @moons-skeletons @cptnrogersss @emmaeb2014 @loiscastle @bumba-bitch @lianimal89 @steadyholland @lottabirkin @lovcyou3000 @myimagineoutlet @tinycollectivetrash @muffinmari25 @deathofthethrones @shaharloni1 @mellow-delight @gracemrm @halowings1123

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #tom holland blurb #tom holland headcanon #tom holland smut #tom holland fluff

377 notes · View notes

starshineskyandthepowerofrock · 3 years

Text

Stuff You Wouldn't Think To Find

Part 23 of Starshine, Sky, and the Power of Rock

The portal kinda feels like how sparkling water tastes, if that makes sense. I meet Sky on the other side to find her shaking magical shimmers out of her hair.

"They really like sparkles over here, don't they?" she says.

I wiggle and watch the glittery particles fall from my pajamas. There's Sky's pencil next to my slippers! I pick it up. "Hey, look!"

Sky smiles and puts the pencil behind her ear for safe keeping. She looks around. "Any idea where we are?"

I shrug. It's super dark in here. The portal glows pink next to us and Sky's eyes glow blue so I can see just around me. But everything else? I haven't got a clue. "Do you know a light spell?"

"I know a 'make lights brighter' spell. It's a duet."

I don't see any lights to make bright in here except... hm... I put my hand through the portal again and swoosh it around a little. I pull back out with a handful of magical sparkles. Sky sings each part once for me, then I sing the melody while she sings the harmony. The sparkles glow brighter until we can see everything within two feet of us.

"Oooooh!" I say.

The walls and ceiling are a whole lot closer to us than I'd expected. We're in a super tight hallway, it looks like. No windows, no doors, nothing but what looks like an endless corridor. My heart's going again. I wonder what's down there! I've never explored a palace before, especially not an enchanted one!

Sky and I creep down the hall, our footsteps muted by our slippers. "Do you think that portal's always been there?" I ask.

"No clue," she says. "I feel like we would've noticed. Can't imagine why they'd put a secret passageway in a common room. Must be some kinda... magical glitch."

"Do you think your piano playing opened it? Like, on accident?"

Sky chuckles. "C'mon, you think I could do that? With a normal piano?"

I shrug. "I dunno. I've seen you do other cool stuff."

"Like what?"

"Like when you beat that guy in a guitar battle? That was the coolest thing I've ever seen!"

Sky doesn't look amused anymore. "Thanks," she says.

"Oh, um, sorry, i-is that a sore poi-"

"It's okay," she says a little too loud. She softens up a bit. "Thanks -- uh -- really, I'd forgotten I'd done that."

"See? So, you are cool!"

"You're pretty cool yourself," she says. "I wouldn't think you'd be up for something like this."

"Like what?"

"Ya'know. Sneaking around. Doesn't seem your speed."

I giggle. "I snuck around all the time back on the moon!"

"Really?"

"Yeah, really! My friends and I used to sneak each other out of our bedroom windows and go hang out after curfew," I giggle. "They'd love you."

"Huh, maybe I'd love them too, then. You'll have to introduce us if that can happen."

"I sure hope so," I say, only to notice that feeling in my chest come back. Hmm. Time to change the subject. "Where do you think this leads?"

Sky scrunches her eyebrows a bit. She's quiet for longer than I'd expect. "I've got a theory but I'm not sure it's a good one."

"At least you've got one, right? Lemme hear, lemme hear!"

She takes a glance at me but turns back. "Let's see first before I say anything."

She keeps answering in ways I'm not ready for, huh. "Oh... Okay, then?"

The floor has been slowly inclining as we go. It was only a bit at first but it's getting so steep I wonder if we'll slip. I'm very thankful for the little sticky things on the bottom of my slippers-

"Ah!" Sky yelps. I catch her by the arm right before she hits the ground. "Thanks," she says. Then she furrows her brow. "Wait." She kneels back down again, more careful now, and puts her ear to the floor. "You hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"It's... It's like... Uh. A hum? No, not a- Huh." She stands back up. "But you hear it, right?"

I shake my head. "What are you talking about?"

"It's, uh. A sound? Or..." She tries clearing her ears, rubs her temples. "No, not a sound. It's, it's not in my ears, it's..." She's starting to breathe, oh no!

"Are you okay? Maybe we should turn back-"

She hits the side of her head. "What the hell is happening? You don't feel it?" She grits her teeth, squeezes her eyes shut. Then she puts her hands over her head and ducks as if shielding herself from... I don't even know what. She reminds me of...

"Do you have anxiety, Sky?"

She doesn't seem to hear me, she just keeps whispering "What the hell, what the hell, what the hell?"

Ohhhh gosh, what did my mom do? Would it work with her? I've gotta try!

"Sky? Sky, look at me, okay? Name 5 things you can see, 4 things you can hear, 3 things-"

She says a word I don't feel comfy repeating. Okay then, what else do I do to ground myself? Uhhhh. I start flapping my hands. I've gotta be the calm one now. Okay, okay. I take a big breath and let it out. "Can you try doing that, Sky?"

Her eyes land on me. I do it again. She tries a shaky breath of her own. I take another deep breath. Then she does. We breathe together few more times until she takes her trembling hands away from her head. She looks away, gulps, and says, "Uh, thanks. You're right. Maybe we should turn back."

🌙🌙🌙

We both sleep in the next day. It's 12:30 when we've just started rubbing the clouds out of our eyes over a game of cards, only for Star to come into our dorm saying, "You two are still in your PJs? Was there a no-sleep slumber party that I missed?

Sky swirls the coffee in her mug and says, "Eh, I guess we're just both night owls, right, Crescent?"

I smile, realizing Star probably isn't the best person to tell about sneaking around secret palace corridors past curfew. "Yep!"

"Well, while you guys slept in, Citrus and I checked out the local marketplace. Sugarsweet has some great shops I think you two would like! Oh, and I asked around, Sky, and the music store wouldn't mind you coming in! We could go CD shopping!"

Sky's eyes light up. "Woah, really? That's great! Wanna go, Crescent?"

"Sure! Maybe we can skate, too! I hear the ice rinks here are made of frozen rock candy!"

🌙🌙🌙

Wow, Sugarsweet really lives up to its name! Star says it's the capital of Dulcet Falls, a province I still can't believe exists! Oh my gosh, I'm so so happy we're here for the week! We stick out our tongues and let blue sour-sweet snowflakes land in our mouths.

"The precipitation is a different flavor in each city. Here, it's blue raspberry!" Star tells us.

"How'd that even happen?" I ask.

"Oh, I haven't a clue. Scientists have been studying the phenomena of this province for years and still aren't sure why."

"Well, I'm not complaining!" Sky says. "Hey, your tongues are blue!" She smiles, revealing her fangs are stained blue, too.

We giggle together and head towards the music shop. Just as Star promised, Sky steps right through the doorway without a problem. The aisles of CDs each end with a touch screen with attached earbuds so you can listen to a sample from any album on sale in the store.

We of course make a beeline for the rock section and browse CD after CD. Sky and I still don't really know a lot of the artists in the Land of Light, so we listen to tons of samples. Star is so excited to show us band after band, singer after singer. She's also got a lottt of allowance money that she has no trouble spending on us.

Sky is drawn to the secondhand section, maybe because she doesn't wanna have Star spend more on brand new CDs, or maybe because she's interested in that retro sound. The older stuff sounds cool, too! But there isn't a ton of hip hop over in this section, probably because the Land of Light's history with that is only as recent as moon rabbits coming down here and sharing our music with them. The Land of Light's hip hop has an interesting pop bent to it, one I don't hate at all and actually find kinda fun! But it does make me wish I could hear some beats that sound closer to the kind you hear back home...

Hm.

I ask Star and Sky if they can catch up with me at the skate rink. I can pay for my stuff, I assure Star.

🌙🌙🌙

I'm no better at skating then I was yesterday, but if it gets my mind off things then I'll take it. After a few more very wobbly tries at not letting gravity get the better of me, I finally decide to sit on a bench until Star and Sky catch up.

Okay. What are 5 things I can see? I see the pale blue skate rink. I see shop buildings with peppermint pillars supporting gingerbread walls and roofs covered in frosting. I see fairies and unicorns and elves and cat people who all skate way better than I do- uh uh, stop that! They're all doing their best, just like me! What's the point of a grounding technique if I'm gonna put myself down during it? Now, let's see. I see I girl who's... what is she doing? She's touching the edge of a chocolate road sign. Is she... She's broken off a piece!

I do my best to unlace my skates and get back in my boots as fast as I can and try to go get a better look. "Excuse me!" I say.

The girl's head snaps in my direction. Her eyes widen -- Her red eyes! She runs off.

"H-hey!" I say a whole lot of "excuse me"s and stumble a few times going at this speed but I've gotta catch up! "Wait up!"

The girl only stops to scoop up handful of snow and lob it in my direction. It whizzes past me. "That's not very nice!" I shout, still after her. "People have gotta use that sign, you can't just-"

"Buzz off, loser!" she shouts past the scarf covering her mouth. She's scrambling into the woods now.

I gasp. "No!" I pounce on her back and we both tumble into the flavored snow.

She shoves me off of her and coughs up a mouthful of snow, revealing a set of fangs I'm not much surprised to see. She looks up, eyes wide with worry. "What are you gonna do, report me? It'll be the last thing you-"

"You can't go running into the woods like that, silly! The Band of Darkness could snatch you up like that!" I try to snap to make my point but it's a little hard to make a sound with this wooly mitten on.

She blinks. "What?"

"When I first came to the Land of Light, I had to learn a lot about safety since the Band of Darkness likes to lurk around a lot. And the biggest rule was don't go in the woods! One of my friends is a vampire, too, so I know they won't go easy on you! Be careful, okay!"

She stares at me, not sure what to say. "I'll, um. I'll take that into account." She takes a bite out of the chocolate chunk in her hand.

Wow. I'm not sure what else to even say. I've got so many questions but none of them are coming out!

"Well then," she says, standing and brushing the snow off herself. "I have to go. You didn't see me, okay?"

"Huh? Yes I did!"

"I mean if anyone asks, you didn't meet me, okay? We didn't meet. Got it?"

"Uh. Um..."

"Got it?" she asks, more intense this time.

I nod. "I-I've got it!"

"Good. Now, aren't your friends wondering where you are?"

#waxing crescent #skylar acdalur #princess starshine #princess faylen

2 notes · View notes

incarnateirony · 4 years

Text

I went off on a rant to a friend about things like Gamble Era, and miscellaneous idolized past authors, and you know what, fuck it. I'm going to say it out loud. And listen, listen this is NOT going to be my normal "Whatever you like :)" post like, this is literally an accumulation of horse shit I've seen talked about in any and all lanes for years that have been driving me fucking bananas for years. Don't just read this going HAHA I HATE GAMBLE TOO and then be shocked when I slap at inexplicably favorited authors in this fandom beyond that.

------

God how can anyone genuinely like Gamble, like, literally, legitimately and 1000%, not even about her killing Cas or whatever, what kind of pure trash TV do these people intake in mass that they think Gamble was good at her job I can not emphasize enough how cripplingly disappointing the shift from S4-5 to 6-7 was I know art is in the eye of the beholder or whatever but JESUS. FUCKING. CHRIST.

Fuck constructivist theory there's a point when things are just clearly trash Benefits S7 had: Just da bros uhhhh *flips through pages* Anything else? Are dick jokes art?

Her era was overrun by plot holes you could fly boeing jets through -- and I don’t mean shit like when fandom goddamn made up in their own damn head about an angelreaper retcon even though the reaper in the same episode they said was a retcon said the deadass opposite of what everybody fucking wound themselves up about, just deadass yawning voids -- it had unstable mechanics on previously established species shit, the villain plot was one giant monster of the week that tried desperately to go back to how they handled shit like Azazel as a threat but miserably failed, the monster had the dumbest weakness possible, the characters themselves were unstable in their characterizations and not even in that general "I don't like what the show is doing with them" but episode to episode Sam flipping from ripping Dean with laughter over gay jokes to woke-sounding sentiments

The cinematic style was gone and just vacant, it was neither the overexposed horror desaturated film nor the vivid fantasy of Carver, it just sat there like an unpolished lump

While later seasons also lost the classic rock vibe for budget reasons, that too disappeared in her era so we had no film energy, no story energy, no character energy, no villain energy, no structure energy, and we didn't even have the fucking cool tunez but we had dicks allergic to windex

It even lacked the elements that gave Kripke era value

Dusty americana died, all we had left was teenage girl fuckin emo sad boi drama And even that was miserably piss poor

I have never seen such a visionless fucking disaster successfully air an entire season on my fucking TV

I will never, EVER be able to outline what a fucking disappointment it was to go from S4-5 level show maturation into this negative embarrassment by season 7.

S6 Kripke was still around to some extent and that's the only reason I can deduce, S7 minded, there was any substance to it, even if her writing and editing crew at the time were a goddamn tire fire. And then people turn around and yell feminism if you criticise the giant fucking blazing slag heap that was her era and blame anyone and everyone but her and here you FUCKING go and she does half the shit all over again in the Magicians

(The friend replied: "The season only works in reverse, which is a crime on serialised TV (and just bad screenwriting)." )

That's just it though, it's like S7 we were suddenly back to fucking episodical TV like S1-2 because enough fuckbats yelled about Good Old Days. Only instead of ʷĤε𝕣є'𝓼 đα𝒹 or 𝐓Ħⓔ DεᗰＯᶰ 卄𝓐ｓ Ƥl𝓐𝓝Ş ℱⓞｒ Ⓜ𝔢 it was ħ𝔞ⓗａ 𝓓ＩＣ𝐤ᔕ 🍆

I mean fucking sure this show started targeting late teenage women but Kripke had started maturing it forward and then Gamble fucking rolls along and it's like she's writing for 13 year old boys suddenly

Well I say that's what she seemed to be writing for but at the time the marketing was gross objectification going LOOK PRETTY BOYS WITH GUNS and that was it, that was the substance of what they gave a shit about and apparently the kind of demographic they thought constituted the sum of the SPN audience which, go get fucked guys, seriously. No fucking wonder the ratings got gouged in half over the course of a year. And fandom yells BUT FRIDAY DEATH SLOT but go sit and spin, S6 was friday deathslot too but before Kripke disappeared as the last thread holding SOME kind of cohesive value in the piece together in S6, that went to shitfuckhell in a handbag at light speed. People migrated to SPN Fridays S6 just fine. They LEFT season 7 and then people plug their ears if they don’t like that. And Carver had to fight all S8 to get it back, /but succeeded, and then-some./

oh and lemme head off fandom dumbfuck argument #72 about “well Dabb’s ratings are lower than Gamble’s were so he sucks and ruined it worse” go take your fucking ass and google “national primetime ratings decline” and enjoy exploring the last fucking 70 years of TV history. Pointing out a show crashes within a year because of massive failure is not the same as people being intentionally fucking daft sods to the TV universe’s decline over the last decade so like, don’t. Don’t be that person. Because you’re still embarrassingly wrong.

(The friend replied: "That's why I don't get why people care about what the vocal minority have to say. They *already* got what they wanted. It crashed and burned. Nobody in their right mind in corporate world is gonna be like, let's try that again, let's throw more money into that burning pit That's just not happening. Gay angels or no, it just ain't." )

I mean that should have been obvious when 1. Carver brought back Cas and pretty much immediately promoted him to Regular 2. Misha then got promoted to lead credits in S12, no matter what circles of intentional, willful ignorance fandom argues about what the credits mean for petty piss fights

"LOL & MEANS HE'S LESS IMPORTANT" Shut the fuck up and sit down you basement dwelling shitlord, go watch the A-Team, tell me how Mr T is the least important character

Also unpopular fuckin opinion Robbie Thompson and Ben Edlund are not That Great. Compared to what they were SURROUNDED with they were exceptional but Berens and Yockey could run circles around them both. They just happened to give fandom shit they liked during dark times so it made them fun. Robbie Thompson and Ben Edlund are basically the baseline value of our current writing team on random names. Give me Robbie Thompson and give me Davy Perez and I see no fucking difference. People compare Edlund to Yockey because of certain shit he pulled off but like, no? If there WAS a comparison it’d be like, Meredith, and even then I can’t see any way Edlund is substantially better than Meredith but could list the other in reverse?

But if we're talking about being able to write pieces with more than 1 or 2 layers of impact I'm sorry, it's rose colored glasses that makes people idolize them

Like if people seriously objectively fucking sat and reviewed the methodology and substance of their past idol authors to the demonstratable level of the current crew where I am DEAD ASS HAVING DISCOURSE WITH THE EXEC PRODUCER ABOUT BAUDRILLARDIAN CONCEPTS AND DELILLO in the middle of a hypercomplex postmodern two-directional commentary piece on some scaffolding of sociopolitical representation commentary that SAILS past the level the ‘activists’ in this fandom think about, literally, what people like is Gay Shit They Got lobbed at them or shiny visuals. And you know what, whatever, sure, like what you like IDGAF but don't sit here like Thompson was some fucking Shakespeare. No, your fucking "meta" you -- you, in any lane, anyone, any ship, anywhere, ever -- wrote by COMPLETELY randomly associating whatever storyline you could staple on to try to pretend the text was doing what you want at the time -- is not the same as author intent and actual weight and merit to the cohesive structure of what they build.

YES YES I KNOW, Death of the Author, someone just popped that up in their head, like the ten thousand posts I've made over the last 209349 years addressing how people abusive the fuck out of the term and that's fine, interpret shit however you wanna make it do jumping jacks but don't sit here entering the time you attached Little Bo Peep as some sort of intrinsic value to Dean trying to find Sam in 1492 and act like that's some deep critical shit the authors thoughtfully laced into the piece, these are not the same fucking conversation.

Big hollow voids of statements doesn’t make a better author, it makes you bust your ass harder to actually give any sort of consequential meaning to the piece, and that has nothing to do with the quality of the author or text themselves, that has to do with your interpretation in a piece devoid of genuine thematic subtext so people desperately try to bobby pin some bullshit together. Which also is probably why this fandom can’t tell the difference between coding, interpretation, subtext, and text for their fucking life anymore.

Protip the entire goddamn writing room is pouring that gay shit in your cup that's been triple brewed above Robbie or Edlund’s pots and people are still complaining it isn't enough

Another point that drives me up a wall, "LAZARUS RISING IS THE BEST EPISODE EVER" okay like lmaooooo what the fuck are you smoking Was it impressive as fuck at the time yes it was. But again, fucking perspective. I literally went back and watched it like a month ago and I realized it was a fucking void of content compared to our modern writing, it just had one of the most impressive entrances, it DID have good directing (YES MANNERS WAS GOOD, NO DISRESPECT), and it introduced a character everybody loved. Dean was still a halfass caricature

You wanna know why everybody made that shit gay right away Because there was no fucking substance around it it was a wallpaper of a cool looking episode that was otherwise blank space to run around in on dialogue they should have thought to construct better if they didn't want it to be gay

And sure since then the author room has picked up the big gay ball and started actually turning it into some shit which, great, but this is yet again a matter of structure and intent versus throwing rotten pasta at the wall and seeing if the mold makes it stick. I don't care if you have a vegan recipe that converts the fucking mold on the pasta into a healthy sauce base that isn't what it was thrown at the wall like, and no amount of complimenting the original chef's moldy pasta means it was some tasty shit before you added 10,000 ingredients they never fucking thought about or at least a second chef came along and figure out what to do with the pile of goo.

Fandom would stop being this miserable fucking putrid stinkhole if people would collectively apply some goddamn perspective to the content they argue about before even bothering to engage with uwustiel/cest dot tumblr dot com in irrelevant argument #9238428934 they use to fence off whether they should enjoy the content or try to explore it for its value or not because there is NO. MORE. PERSPECTIVE.

YOU KNOW WHAT? IT’S FINE TO EVEN ADMIT YOU LIKED THINKY-FREE TV, THAT’S FINE, THAT’S YOUR RIGHT.

But don’t SIT here acting like a lot of these former train wrecks were “better authors” or somehow objectively “better content.” No like, you like not thinking about shit that much and staring at pretty boys or whatever, good on you, but you literally like, objectively, some of the shit I’ve seen go down is like genuinely trying to compare a toddler’s fridge art to a Vasarely and hold them both up in front of people who do art for a living. They ain’t gonna shit on the kid’s fridge art, but they’re gonna go “awwwww she’s gonna grow up to be a great artist!” before breaking down on Vasarely’s vector illusion shit, sorry, that’s just how it be. I’m sure the kid had some sort of vision to drawing the triangle over the square that kinda looks like a house but the hypercomplex thought processes simply aren’t there.

Just people STUCK in weird idolization of shit that is so far past irrelevant to the current piece in play and fighting to win arguments while trying to convince themselves they're right and secretly dreading how titanically failboat wrong they are ignoring the sound of the glacier having ripped through their hulls SEASONS ago. The ice water has already leaked onto the fucking DECK and people are still arguing about completely ridiculous shit or fancying things that were 1/10th of the value of the current content they're claiming isn't good or enough or valid compared to the shallow specters that birthed them out of old aeons.

Dead-ASS Kripke picked shit because it “sounded cool.” I’m sorry if there weren’t some model guys fandom wanted to hump everybody would be making fun of the fedora-tipping mindset that probably is where the fucking trenchcoat came from and may have debated giving Cas -- sorry, “CASS” because “COOL” -- katanas. But sure. Way, way deeper and more intricate than the Jungian intertextual post modern piece that’s so tightly knit it’s making fandom unwittingly comment on themselves.

I thought people grew out of that shit when they were like 16 unless they were incels

(My spidey senses detected someone unironically preparing to inform me about stealing borrowing the imagery from Constantine on reflex, because you know, that’s some peak intertext right there.)

Dead ASS that writing logic is that motherfucker that wanders into your freeform RP server with Spawn knockoff miasma chainsaw arms under his leather trenchcoat shooting twin Deagles with a vague story of wanting to face his demon overlord father that’s written like a looney tunes villain, in the middle of you cowriting with your lit-savvy friends trying to make a fun fantasy adaptation rendering fascism and corporate america and then he gets upset when nobody wants him to shit lightning -- /fight me/.

SERIOUSLY FOLKS. WANNA ENJOY THE SHOW AGAIN? GET SOME PERSPECTIVE. LET GO OF FETISHIZING WEIRD WARPED MEMORIES AND LINES OF ARGUMENT INSIDE YOUR OWN HEADS ISTG IT'LL HELP.

The day I find an argument that makes season 7 legit good TV rather than, at very best, “fun junk TV I had a cool ride on”, that does NOT involve evoking arguments distinctly born out of petty shipping culture arguments and/or (generally the same) attaching their own shit with a stapler to MAKE it have some sort of meaning at the time it was airing (rather than later showrunners making it add up to something), I’ll eat my fucking arm.

𝓯𝓾𝓬𝓴. Carver era had already gone through dramatic changes that deepend the scope of the show and even then, 15.09 Bobo’s The Trap held more ACTUAL commentary on this fandom than Thompson’s Fanfiction episode did as a supposed fandom-commentary episode much LESS 15.04 as an actual meta framed episode. Fanfiction was like 4 years behind and completely fucking unplugged, whereas the base of the show itself is more integrated now in these dynamics than any attempt at meta episodes back then were.

old days it took one goddamn episode of dreaming for people to 1. start talking about Freud and 2. pretend the whole everything after that was some Freudian masterpiece even when, if it were, it would have been an entire avalanche of dropped balls. But two seasons of direct citations and literal manifest avatar-bodies of Jungian psychology elements and it’s hard to pull more than a peep out of the fandom about it because they’re too busy yelling about tulpas or sirens from before most of the people around here hit puberty.

𝓕 𝓤 𝓒 𝓚

furthermore why does anyone that idolize season 7 for what they think fits their bill think season 15 is gonna end how they want when they’ve been taking the piss out of season 7 over and over and over and over again IN THE TEXT as being dumb as SHIT

𝕀ℕ 𝕋ℍ𝔼 𝔽𝕌ℂ𝕂𝕀ℕ𝔾 𝕋𝔼𝕏𝕋

WHY SET YOURSELF UP FOR DISAPPOINTMENT

TO WIN TEMPORARY ARGUMENTS? THAT YOU’RE ACTUALLY LOSING FROM START TO FINISH?

actually you know what

rolling back to the whole “empty/subtextless stuff making people bust their ass” seems to be what you miss. Saying, “I miss empty, shallow, shitty writing” doesn’t really sound as good though so we change “what I like” into “this is talentless trash” it postures better, but it seems to be the people who have objectively fucking refused core tenets the show has evolved over the last 7 years, most explicitly the last 3-4, and absolutely refused to soak them in the form they deliver in. And they’re mad. Because it isn’t hollow. They can’t run around in fucking blank space and plug absolute horse shit into the voids and then posture like they’re supreme in this noncommital wasteland. Because everything’s built out and structured in and loud as fuck and people are debating the actual installed and even dogmatically cited work of philosophers driving the ideology of the show now and they can’t get away from it, and/or actually have to pay attention to the whole show and think about it all as a picture instead of the parts they want, so it’s “bad.”

I just sensed like 50 readers shoving their foot into that shoe. Good.

Jesus christ I’m pretty sure that’s what it is in hindsight after yelling all of this. These characters can’t be used as sock puppets anymore that people can win bullshit arguments unless they literally delete the entire principle of the modern show -- and this goes for MULTIPLE lanes really, each in their own way -- so now it’s “bad.” And that’s just not how this works.

#supernatural #spn #rant #vent #mildew

15 notes · View notes

thiswasinevitableid · 4 years

Note

i really love the way you write meet-uglies/meet-cutes so,, "i’m having a snowball fight with my friend in the park and i hit you instead" prompt w indruck?

Indrid is slowly, begrudgingly, starting to enjoy winter.

After all, the lake is pretty when it’s frozen, and it’s fun to see the whole neighborhood out and about in the fresh snowfall, early enough in the winter that snow is still a joyful thing rather than the unwelcome phenomenon it becomes around March.

Also, the coffee shop around the corner just started selling eggnog lattes, which are the pinnacle of seasonal beverages. Which is why he’s strolling along the lake, drink in hand, thinking about how nice it will be to curl up with his sketchbook in his little apartment that’s all his. Just him and the cat. Alone.

And those thoughts are why he doesn’t see it coming.

Something cold collides with his face, and he loses his balance, slipping on the icy ground and tumbling back into the snowy lawn, sending his drink down his front.

“Oh shit!”

“Oh man, bad luck dude!”

“Duck Newton, that was not the intended target!”

Snow crunches by his ears as he sits up, dazed and nutmeg-scented, eyes still stinging.

“I’m so, so fuckin sorry man, I was aimin’ for my friend, didn’t mean to hit you, fuck, uh, lemme see your eye.”

His red glasses come off, and he blinks in bright winter light.

A pair of mis-matched eyes look over his face, shining with worry. Faded blue dye in dark hair frames a soft face, and gloved hand, still chilly with snow, touches his cheek. He winces when a finger traces below his eye.

“Aw, fuck, I gave you a black eye.”

“Goodness, I didn’t think someone could throw a snowball that hard.”

“Got kinda a knack for it, I guess.” The man, Duck, scratches the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Yes, well” he’s trying so hard not to be upset. He’s trying so hard to hold on to his positivity, “I would have preferred not to be on the receiving end of ow, ow.” His whole body hurts as he stands. Duck braces him.

“Shit, oh man, I made you spill your drink too. Um, fuck” he looks helplessly in the direction of the friends he was, presumably, trying to hit with a snowball instead. One friend, a young woman with fiery streaks in her black her, mouths something his way.

“Can I buy you a new one to, uh make up for it?”

“No, it’s, it’s fine. I ought to go home and ice my eye. And change. Ow.”

“Do you want me to walk back with you? You ain’t lookin too steady.”

“I wonder why.” He mutters.

“Sorry.” Duck mumbles.

Indrid looks him up and down; he’s built in a sturdy way (Indrid can hear his mother in his head uttering the words, “husky”), and it would be safer than walking home on sore, unsteady legs and falling again.

“Very well, I suppose you can help me get home. It’s not far.”

The man slouches with relief, and offers Indrid his arm.

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

He feels better after a bath (alright, so it’s a large washtub that he shoves in his shower and then sits in, but it does the trick). Dries his hair, wraps himself in a fluffy pink and yellow bathrobe and nestles down into his chair to draw. Taco blinks sleepily at him from the nearby heater vent, and he scritches his ears.

There’s a knock on the door. That’s odd, given that he’s not expecting anyone. He opens it to find the man from earlier, wearing slightly fewer layers and holding a carrier with two to-go cups and a small bag.

“Uh, hey again.”

“Hello.” Indrid responds, flatly.

“Got you an eggnog latte.” He holds out one cup.

“How did-”

“Aubrey, my friend, looked at the cup after you dropped it.”

“Ah, of course, thank you.”

Duck hesitates, then offers him the bag, “can’t have a drink without somethin to eat. Weren’t sure what you’d like, so got a few different things from the pastry case.” A blush creeps up his cheeks, from the heater no doubt.

“They aren’t exaggerating when they say southern boys have good manners.” Indrid smirks.

“Tend to come out more when we’re feelin guilty.”

“Duck, it was an accident. And you’ve more than apologized.” He shudders as a gust of cold air rushes up from the downstairs hall, “would you like to come in?”

“Uhhhh no, uh, fuck, uh, I mean, fuck. Yes.”

“Oh good. It would be nice to share these with someone.” He steps aside so Duck can enter the apartment. As he gets down plates, Taco sidles over to give their visitor a cursory head-bump, followed by a demand for back scratches while he sips his coffee.

“Do you have pets?” He takes a large sugar cookie from the bag, while Duck helps himself to an apple scone.

“Yeah, got a cat too. Not near as sleek as this fella though, mine’s a big fuckin fluffball. Gonna start usin her to insulate the front door and keep the draft out.”

Indrid chuckles at the image, and Duck grins.

“So, uh, you in town for school?’

“No, actually. I’m finishing up an apprenticeship at Rag and Bone downtown.”

“No shit, you’re a tattoo artist?”

“Soon to be, yes.”

“That’s so fuckin cool! I got this one done there when I first moved to town.” He rolls his sleeve up to reveal a line drawing of a pine tree in deep green ink.

“Oooh” This is familiar territory for Indrid, and welcome as well; he likes seeing other artists’ work, and learning the stories behind people’s tattoos.

“Got another on my bicep, a succulent. Ironically enough, got it before I started workin’ at Green Thumb.”

“That’s where I’ve seen you!” Indrid slaps the table, “I come in after work sometimes. And usually resist the urge to add another plant to my, ah, collection.” He nods at his sickly houseplants on the nearby shelf.

“I can take a look at those for you, bettin they’re salvageable. Most of those ones are pretty hard to kill.”

“So people say. Bear in mind, I have killed not one, but two, airplants.”

“Jesus,” Duck giggles, “how?”

And so Indrid regales him with the story of his ill-fated air-plants that went brittle no matter where in the house he put them. Which leads to Duck getting the surviving houseplants down and examining them, before showing Indrid where to place them so they’ll thrive. And as Indrid is lifting one onto the bookshelf, his cuff slides up and Duck asks about his rosy maple moth tattoo. So Indrid tells him, and once their coffees are done he makes them tea as Duck asks about how he got into this line of work.

Then, it only seems natural that Duck offer to order pizza while they swap stories about growing up gay in small towns, and then eat while heckling a “documentary” about Bigfoot (“Black bears, you saw a black bear! Lord Christ almighty how do people forget there’s bears in those woods that walk on two feet?”)

“Damn, how many tattoos do you have?” Duck says, spotting the black rabbit on Indrid’s chest when his bathrobe slips to the side.

“Six.”

Duck counts on his fingers, looking at each in turn, “where’s number six?”

“It’s, ah, it’s on my thigh.”

“Oh” Duck turns bright red, “uh, you don’t got to share it if you don’t want to.”

“I can, if you’re alright with it.” Indrid pulls one side of his robe up until the stylized ouroboros is visible.

“Damn, the colors on that are amazin’” Duck traces a finger along the snake’s body. Indrid gasps, softly, and Duck pulls back, “fuck, sorry, shoulda asked first.”

“I don't mind. It felt rather nice.”

Duck’s eyes flick quickly to Indrids, then down to the tattoo. Cautiously, he reaches out and traces it again in slow, steady circles.

“I oughta be headin out soon, need to feed Winnie and get my lunch ready for tomorrow.” He says, making no move to stand.

“Would you like to come back? Tomorrow, I mean.” Indrid taps his nail on the side of his mug.

“Yeah” Duck looks up at him with a rather more mischievous smile than before, “yeah I would.”

He leans in, lifts Indrids glasses up, and plants the softest kiss on record to the bruise below his eye.

Then he stands, grabbing his coat and slipping on his boots, Indrid staring all the while with a dreamy smile.

Duck winks to him as he steps out the door, “see you tomorrow.” He blows a kiss, and heads out into the snowy night.

#indrid cold/duck newton #Indruck #winter aus #meet ugly

59 notes · View notes