#I used my FREE TIME to write about atoms and shit

[tigerplushh]

Me when I get the “obsessively analysing and picking apart every minute detail of my favourite the character to such an extent that I become genuinely convinced nobody could possibly understand them the way I do” autism and not the good at maths & science autism

[nathanbatemanfucker]

In Plain Sight, Ch 5: To Atomize

summary: nathan leaves his house to tell you he loves you.

pairing: nathan bateman x f!reader

contents: 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, enemies to lovers (sorta), boss/employee dynamics, mentions of sick/dying parent, pining, dom/sub dynamics, mid love confessions, oral (m + f receiving), p in v sex, creampie, squirting, NATHAN’S SO IN LOVE AND SIMPY AND FREE

wc: 6,138

an: we've sadly reached the end of the main story. thank you thank you for all the support on this fic. a girl watches ex machina once and suddenly is writing 20+k for an asshole simp. i do plan to write the extras fairly quickly (the next month or so) and they'll vary in length. i hope y'all stick around for more of them.

in plain sight masterlist | family dinner | tiana | TIONB | planted | little hamlet

You and Nathan are doing work out on the couch, your legs thrown over his. It’s all very domestic, something the both of you could get used to. 

He doesn’t look up when he asks, “That date out— do you still want it?”

“I do but honestly, I don’t think it’s realistic. You like being out here, Emma and Phillipa shouldn’t be at home by themselves for so long— not to mention my mom.”

“You don’t talk about your mom,” He observes, his eyes rising from his laptop to look at you. 

You continue your work as you talk, “There’s too much to talk about. And nothing at all.”

“And the vagueness returns,” There’s more bite in his voice than he wants there to be, but he can’t help it.

You notice immediately— going rigid like stone before you fix him with an empty gaze. “She’s dying. She can’t work. She sleeps most days. In the mornings before I come here, I read to her and when I get home I tell her I love her and kiss her goodnight. Is that specific enough for you, Mr. Bateman?”

Nathan just looks at you, his eyes for once, void of any emotion to tell you how he’s feeling. Nathan 3 months ago would have stormed away, or said something snarky. But, he just keeps looking at you. The silence makes you uncomfortable and your words replay in your mind over and over, guilt building each time. Your mother’s a tender subject, but Nathan is…more than anyone has ever been to you despite not making that clear to him. You open your mouth to apologize but he shushes, closing his laptop and then yours before he pulls you into his lap and holds you close. 

He kisses at your temple, your forehead, your cheek, “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

It shouldn’t catch you off guard, his affection and tenderness but it does. You melt into him even as your walls go up inside. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not, honey. It’s not. Can you tell me what—“

“Cancer. Off and on since I was in high school.”

“You’ve been taking care of your sisters off and on since they were born?”

You shrug. It was true. In the moment, when you and your mother had made those decisions together— your father wishing and washing his way in and out of your lives whenever he felt like— they hadn’t seemed like a big deal. But, Nathan’s tone can’t help but make you realize how much you’d missed out on because of your duty to your family.

“Shit, honey.”

“It’s alright, Nathan,” You breathe. It’s not, it’s never been okay, but you’ve been telling yourself that for as long as you can remember. 

“It’s not. You’re a good fucking woman. You and your family deserve better.”

“They do deserve better. My sisters don’t have a time remembering her like I do. Before she got sick. That’s fucked up isn’t it?” 

“Yeah, baby, it is.” His hold on your tightens, a hand smoothing up and down your back. “Let me take you out for one night.”

“Nathan, I just said—“

He takes your jaw into his hands, intentional yet gentle with his grip as he guides you to look at him. Those big brown eyes are warm but firm. “We’ll do it in the city. I’ll pick you up from your apartment, you’ll be a phone call away. I’ll bring you home first thing in the morning. C’mon baby, you deserve a break. Let me give it to you.”

—

You agree to Nathan’s advances, like you always do these days. This date takes a lot of coordinating— but somehow it all turned out in your favor. Nathan jokes that it’s because of his god-like will. You’re just happy to take the breather when it’s presented to you. Emma gets invited to her first sleepover, Phillipa’s school is having a lock in. Somehow, Nathan had convinced you to accept him paying for one day of round the clock care for your mother so her usual nurse, Celia, could have a day off too.

You’re realizing that maybe you’re just as gone for him as he is for you. That you believe what he’s said about the depths of his feelings for you and maybe, you’re ready to take the next step and allow yourself to feel them openly for him too. How quickly the tide turns. How quickly Nathan had put in the effort to show how badly he wanted this— you. 3 months ago you could say with sincere surety that you did not like Nathan Bateman. And now…well you were sure you couldn’t deny loving him. 

He tells you to dress formally— it lands you in your favorite black dress, the one that always gives you a boost of confidence and makes you feel good. You’re going to need if your racing thoughts about how your feelings have deepened are any indicator for how the evening will go. And maybe, once or twice, you’ve imagined Nathan peeling you out of it when your fingers slipped beneath your waistband late at night.

When you open the door, Nathan’s in a crisp white button down and slacks, a suit jacket draped over his shoulders— your knees nearly give out. So do his.

“Fuck me,” He breathes.

“My neighbors can hear you,” You remind him breathlessly, your face hot as his eyes slowly trace your figure. 

“They should be lucky we’re not staying here or they’d hear a hell of a lot more. Fuck. You look incredible, baby.”

“My eyes are up here.”

“I’ve seen enough of those.”

“Nathan.”

“Can you fucking blame me? You walk out here in this tight little dress, one I imagine will stay on until after dinner, which is a fucking sin if you ask me. I’m giving commotion for the dress honey, it is what it is. Come here,” He reaches for you, snaking his arm around your waist so he can kiss you thoroughly. When he breaks the kiss he whispers, “Hi.”

Some of your nerves dissipate at his clear attraction to you, his sweetness. You smile against his mouth, bumping his nose with your own. “Hi. You look so handsome.”

“Thank you,” He murmurs, a smug grin spreading across his face. 

“Patience and good manners, you’re a changed man yet.”

“Does that mean if I ask to feel you up in the limo, you’ll say yes?”

“My neighbors, Nathan,” You remind him sternly, though you’re still smiling. 

“Stuffy old fucks probably need a good show.”

“Walk.”

—

The limo ride to the nearby docks is 40  minutes with the traffic — and he helps you out like a gentleman, guiding you to a moderately sized boat. It’s impressive, all cream and blues, the 

“Nathan, why is there a helicopter next to this boat?”

“In case you need to get home,” He says simply, if that explanation is enough. 

“In case— we got here by limo.”

“You’re a phone call and a 10 minute helicopter ride away from your family.”

How were you gonna make it through dinner without dragging him to the ground so you could ruck up your dress and fuck him? He was saying all of this, doing all of this so nonchalantly, like it isn’t the nicest thing anyone has ever done for you.

He leans in, mouth and beard tickling your cheek as his whispers teasingly, “This is usually where people say thank you.”

You lean away, giggling a little. Your tone is suggestive, “What if I’m saving my thank you until after dinner?”

“Finally gonna show me some of those methods? It’s been driving me fucking nuts, honey.”

“Depends on how good you are.”

Nathan bites back a moan. This is all so fucking surreal. Being out of his home, being with you. Learning more and more about you, seeing you. Being yours and you being his. It’s more than he could’ve hoped for. He thought he would’ve fucked up by now— and he has, but you held a selfless amount of patience in your heart. He finds himself feeling…grateful? It’s an unfamiliar feeling, one he pushes away from a young age. 

“Don’t be filthy before dinner,” He murmurs lowly.

“You‘ve been eyeing my tits since you picked me up,” You challenge. 

“I’ve been appreciating them, there’s a difference. You ever been on a boat before?”

You eye the boat thoughtfully, “My mom used to take me on the ferry. Does that count?”

Nathan hums. He hasn’t ushered you onto the boat just yet, the two of you standing out on the docks in the salty breeze. It’s nice, being out in the fresh air like this, the water dark as the sun finishes dipping below the horizon. He’d anticipated much more anxiety given his hermit tendencies but it was just you and him and the few staff he’d hired to manage the boat. 

“Do you want to name it?” He blurts out all of a sudden.

“Name what?”

“The boat,” He nods towards the ship. 

You frown, confused. “You haven’t named the boat?”

“I bought it last week.”

“Nathan, did you buy this boat to take me out on a date?”

“Yes I did,” He says with no shame. 

All of that will be an adjustment, the blasé way that he spends money— especially when he spends it on you. You know that he has a fuck ton of it but still; you’ve never lived a life of luxury. 

“Do all employees get this sign-on bonus?” You tease.

“Hush, cheeky girl. Name the boat.”

You grow thoughtful, and that thoughtfulness quickly melts into a melancholic, wistful feeling. You think about your mom. How she’s been swayed back and forth by the tide of life, doing her best to float above it all. It would be nice wouldn’t it, to name something after the woman you love most?

“Boats are named after strong women. So I think…Tiana,” You murmur, voice full of emotion. You clear your throat quickly, hoping he doesn’t notice. 

But Nathan’s obsessed with you— and now that you’ve let him in, he can sense every push and pull. He maneuvers you so that your back is flush with his front. “I like it. Tiana…is that your mother?”

You don’t trust your voice. You simply hum, nodding a little bit as you press back against him. 

He squeezes you tighter, “It’s perfect, baby. Absolutely fucking perfect.

He cups your jaw with one hand, guiding your gaze to his. He’s never seen you nonverbal like this before, never seen sadness in your eyes like this. It makes his chest ache. He guides your mouth to his, kissing you with gentle reverence you never would’ve guessed he was capable of until recently.

Nathan just holds you, letting you melt against him in silence for an undetermined amount of time. His worry grows. “Do you want to call the nurse before we sit down for dinner? Emma? Phillipa?”

Finally, you speak. “No. No, it’s alright. I spend the entire day away from all of them when I’m working for you— I can do this.”

“Just say the word, okay, sweetheart?”

You lean in to give him a soft peck of appreciation, “Yes, I will. Thank you, Nathan.”

Dinner is much more elaborate than it had to be— but this is Nathan you’re talking about, a man with practically the entire world at his fingertips. Of course a 10 course meal makes sense to him. Not that you’re complaining about a personal sized crawl through Italy; breads and antipasto, pastas of all sorts, wines that are perfectly paired, and to end your favorite dessert from the first time the two of you shared a meal together. Despite his underestimating himself and his chaste manner, you think that Nathan is good at romance. He’s great at romance. By the time you’re finishing the last bite, you’re warm and full, a little buzzed and most importantly— needy for him. 

Your entire body is craving his. You’ve denied your desires and his for long enough. You need him, you feel like you might go insane with lust— with love, if you don’t have him. 

“Are we sleeping here?” 

“There’s a suite downstairs, or there’s a hotel nearby I reserved. It’s your call.”

“Here…here is good. Will you take me to bed?” You ask, nonchalantly. 

Nathan chokes on the wine he’s sipping, setting it down to looking at you more intently. “Take you to bed,” He repeats.

“Yes, Nathan, take me to bed,” You practically purr at him this time, voice low and smoky.

Nathan has had  lots of sex in his life, never been flustered or taken aback by anyone. He’s accepted that all of his past experiences go out the window when it comes to you, but he doesn’t expect such a strong reaction out of himself when faced with the opportunity to finally ravish you. He feels like if he stood up right now, his legs would give out like jello. 

The way you’re looking at him— he’s sure no one has ever looked at him like this in his entire life. Carnal and hungry, like when you kissed him breathless in the forest, but more intense. It’s almost overwhelming. He’s never been consumed before, and that’s exactly how you’re looking at him. Like you’re going to swallow him whole. His cock twitches and he takes a deep breath.

“Come here,” He says softly, pushing away from the table and holding his hand out for you.

You stand, moving closer to him but don’t take his hand. “If I touch you…if we start here, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.”

Nathan feels winded. He squeezes his eyes shut, and nods. “Fuck, honey, alright. Follow me.”

Nathan guides you through the dining room and down a hall, not even bothering to mention what doors the two of you pass. His heart is pounding in his chest— he’s ready for this, been ready for so long and he wants this to mean something. He had been ready to wait as long as you needed in order for this moment to be everything it can be. 

The suite he takes you to is larger than you anticipated it to be, but you can’t bring yourself to care. As soon as Nathan shuts the door behind you, you practically launch yourself at him, your hands starting at where his shirt is tucked into his pants. You ruck it up, leaning forward to kiss him.

“Whoa, mmm,” He hums into your mouth. His hands finally fall to cup your ass, kneading and squeezing the way he’s wanted to for hours now. “You been this desperate the whole time?”

“Have you?” You counter as you press him against the door, grinding your hips against his. You can feel him through the fabric of his trousers, and it makes your mouth water. 

“Fuck, baby, lemme get you on the bed at least,” He breathes when he feels the way your hips rut.

You pull away, looking at him with bright but hazy eyes— like he’s just come up with some revolutionary idea. “The bed, right. Come here.”

You start to walk backwards, guiding him with you by his shirt. Once the back of your thighs hit the bed, you switch positions with him, encouraging him to sit down so that you can straddle him. Nathan feels weightless— this is like his dream come true. Just a couple months ago he was jerking himself off imagining a sight like this, and now he was living it. 

Looking up at you, he feels warm. Fuzzy. Like he’s in the safest place he’ll ever be in. With his limited data and hope, trust— things he’s never had with anyone— he knows that he is. This is all he’ll ever need. You’re all he’ll ever need. He loves you so much it hurts. 

“Baby,” He sighs, guiding your mouth down to his. Where your mouth is hurried and insistent, his is lazy and indulgent. He wants to savor every moment.

“Hmm,” You hum grinding down against his clothed cock in a move that makes both of you moan. 

“I fucking love you.”

You lean away, eyes wide with alarm. Part of you, most of you, thought that to be true. Well— whatever he was capable of feeling that was close to love. He’s proved himself to you. All of his intentions, his actions, his words— no matter how haphazard he’s been in communicating them— have been pure. While just a few months ago you were sure Nathan could love no one but himself, you’re sure now that he’s being completely honest. It sends you further into your frenzy. He loves you. 

Nathan Bateman fucking loves you. 

You’re quiet for so long that he feels antsy. There’s no regret, no anger in his heart like he thought there could be when first pursuing you. But he is starting to feel small, like a nuisance like his parents made him feel all those years ago. 

“Really?” You ask breathlessly, unsure if it’s from his declaration or your body’s response to being pressed against him like this. 

He scoffs, squeezing your hips, “Really? You think I fucking—“

“Okay, alright, I love you too.”

“Really?”

You fix him with narrowed eyes. Of course you get scolded but he gets to do the exact same thing as you. It’s very Nathan. It makes you love him more. 

“Nathan.”

“My really is fucking justified, I’m some asshole, you’re…you’re the moon. The sun. The sky. I’m not good at this poetic shit but I mean it.”

“You’re the sweetest, most thoughtful, insightful and just— kind. I know what you’re thinking, I know that something or someone’s taught you not to think that you’re kind and worthy but you are. Even if you’re an asshole and a clown, you are. And I love you.”

“We’re fucking corny and sickly sweet and so cliche. I could vomit,” He says, his grin wide and genuine. 

You nuzzle into him, laughing softly at the tickle of his beard, “You would study it, see if it quantified any of your love for me.”

“So you think I’m disgusting,” He murmurs, using his grip on you to rock your hips down against his cock. 

The pressure is sweet, and you shiver even as you try to get your voice even. “Am I wrong?”

He laughs a little, eyes fluttering when you help him rock you down even further, “No.”

You reach up to remove his glasses, bending to set them on the side of the bed— you didn’t want to break them, now with how you were about to ravish him. “Kiss me, Nathan.”

Usually, he needs to be told things once, twice, and again but this request Nathan obeys immediately. His hands start to travel up your body, fingers sliding under the fabric of your dress to expose inch after inch of your precious skin. His eyes are closed as he bares you to him, pulling down the cups of your bra so your breasts spill out, but he can feel how beautiful you are under his fingertips. Smooth and soft, fitting perfectly in his grasp.  Every touch, every kiss is electric. His hands skate up your stomach, cupping your breasts before he takes your nipples between his fingers, rolling them gently.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, you feel so good. So good,” He mumbles into your mouth, his fingers still working, eager to hear the soft little sound you made.

You melt into him, nodding frantically as you continue to sip from his mouth. “You too.”

Nathan breaks away from your mouth, biting and kissing his way down your neck, sucking a faint mark into your skin. More. He wants more of you, and you more of him. He kisses a trail between your breasts before leaning in, suckling one of your nipples into his mouth. You taste so fucking good. Like honey and cocoa, so delicious. Not for the first time, Nathan thinks about how much he wants to consume you. Or be consumed. He can’t choose, his head is spinning and he’s getting more frantic, shaking beneath you as he sucks and nips at you. 

You can feel yourself getting lost in him, but this isn’t what you’ve thought about all these months. He feels incredible, his mouth is warm, his hands sure. The pleasure that’s blooming all over your body is one you'll never give up. But, no, for all these months, you’ve thought about turning him into a whining, shivering mess. You’ve thought about making him cum over and over until he can think of nothing but you. 

You lean away, cupping your face in your hands,  “Wait— please, let me touch you. I get off all the time, but I haven’t touched a man in so long. I wanna see you.”

“Honey—“

Your hands fall, gripping his shirt and ripping at it. Buttons scatter as you work him out of the shirt, leaning in to coax his mouth open for you once more.  “Let me make you cum. Please, I need it.”

“That’s what you want?” He asks skeptically.

“Yeah, and you’d give me anything, wouldn't you? You ask, tilting your head at him expectantly.

“I’d give you anything,” He confirms.

You slid out of his lap, reaching behind to unclasp your bra and discard it. It leaves you in nothing but black lace panties. “Then take your pants off.”

All Nathan can do for several moments is stare at you, his mouth agape, ready to drool. He could believe he’s died and gone to heaven, except he doesn’t believe such a place exists. And if he did, he would not end up in a place where he would be so privileged to be met with the sight of you. You're an angel in the most sinful way.

“Nathan,” You coo when he doesn’t move, a soft grin on your face.

“Sorry,” He mumbles, a soft blush rising in his cheeks. 

It’s adorable, it makes the heat in your lower belly burn brighter. You can feel yourself getting wetter for him by the second. “I thought about you like this so much.”

“Could've fooled me,” He heaves, trying to seem less affected than he is. That boat sailed the moment you asked him to take you to bed. 

You laugh softly at his words, dropping to your knees and resting your hands on his broad thighs.  “Don’t be snarky, baby, just let me make us feel good. You want that don’t you?”

Nathan shivers, even as your warm, honeyed voice glides across his skin. God he knew you’d be like this, knew he’d bend to your will so easily but to hear it and feel it. “I do,” He sighs, allowing you to guide him to sit down on the edge of the bed.

Your eyes are dark with hunger, and you lick your lips a little as you look up at him. “God, your cock’s so fucking pretty. Can I put my mouth on you?”

“You can do whatever you want to me,” He whispers earnestly.

You aren’t gentle or patient or thoughtful about letting him adjust. You take Nathan’s cock completely, so deep that he feels like he’s starting to enter your stomach. It takes everything in him to keep his hips down, a will that crumbles when you swallow, your throat tightening around him. The sound you make is a cross between a gag and a satisfied hum. You pull off without missing a beat, spitting on the tip of his cock and lifting a hand to grip and pump him.

“Mmm, shit, that’s really…that’s really fucking—“ Nathan babbles incoherently, words cutting off. 

You start in on him again, your head bobbing up and down as you take him over and over again. The noises he’s making have you squeezing your thighs together. Soft and breathy and so so sweet. You peer up at him wanting to see how he looks. The flush in his cheeks is deeper and redder, his eyes somehow sharp and hazy all at once. Seeing him so vulnerable, gooey and nearing the peak of pleasure you don’t stop, sucking harder, allowing the tip of his cock to go deeper.

One of his hands falls to your shoulders, gripping it gently, “Wait— wait— fuck, hold on baby, just,”

Carefully, you pull off of him, wiping at the trail of spit that connects your mouth to his cock. You look up at him with those sweet little eyes, like you haven’t nearly sucked what little of a soul lies within him. “Hmm?”

“Wanna cum inside you, please.”

“This is you cumming inside me,” You challenge, kissing at the head of his cock.

“Inside your pussy,” He gasps, the vein that trails down the center of his forehead on display as he fights to stay still—as he holds back.

You rest your head on his thigh, looking up at him like he’s hung the moon. The sight alone almost makes him cum. 

“Say, please,” You whisper.

“Please, sweetheart.”

“You’re so good, do you know that?” You ask him softly, reaching up to cup his face. 

“Good?” He asks with a furrowed brow. The word directed at himself feels clumsy in his mouth. 

“Good,” You repeat as confirmation. “So good that you’re gonna lay back against those pillows without another word aren’t you?”

Processing your words, he simply nods, helping you to your feet before he scoots back, propped up against the pillows, looking so devilishly handsome. If you stared at him long enough, you’re sure you could cum from just this sight. But why torture yourself like that, when you’re this close to having him buried inside you? Body humming with anticipation you crawl up the bed, straddling him once more. 

“Do you want to feel how wet I am?” 

“Yes,” He answers quickly before tacking on, “please.” 

That sentence alone shows just how much Nathan Bateman is a changed man. Please without being promoted? Atop apologies and vulnerability and love confessions. 

You hold your panties to the side for him, “Go on then. Touch me, baby.”

Nathan’s eyes track to where your pussy runs along his cock, burning hot. He reaches for you, letting his fingers sweat through your folds, causing both of you to moan. You’re so fucking wet, dripping, glistening in the warm lamplight. 

“For me?” He asks, voice and hands trembling as he finds your clit, pressing his thumb against it.

“For you. Because you’re so fucking good for me. Good to me.”

Every fucking word out of your mouth pulls his closer to his release. He needs to be inside you, he can feel the clock ticking. “Can I fuck you now, honey? Please, I need to feel you.”

“Who knew Nathan Bateman would beg?”

“On my knees for the rest of my fucking life, baby.”

You can picture it, except in your dreams, Nathan’s beard is shining with your slick. Your breath catches, and you grow too needy to continue teasing him. It takes you just a few seconds to line him up with your entrance, giving neither of you time to adjust as you sink down on him completely. His back arches, huffing a heavy, labored breath. He’s sweating, he can feel it, his skin slick underneath your fingertips as your pussy grips him so deliciously tight. You’re dripping down his cock already.

“Fuck, honey—,” He laughs, squeezing at your hip, nearly pushing you off to hold on. “Fuck me, you couldn’t have— warned a guy?”

“Sorry,” You breathe, grinning down at him, “needed to fuck you.”

Nathan’s eyes roll as you rock your hips, completely breathless, “Shit—your pussy’s so fucking tight. So hot, you been saving this all for me?”

You bend, your nose resting against his as you gaze into him, “Savor it— don’t think. Don’t control. Just enjoy it, Nathan. Be with me. Give in to me. Say yes.”

“Yes,” He slurs, drawn out and drunk on you. 

You guide his hands to either side of his head, holding them down by his wrists as you start to move, your pussy taking his cock the way your throat had with even more ease. The two of you fit together so perfectly, your cunt swallowing his entire length over and over, pleasure mounting higher and higher inside you. Nathan’s winning the fight against his body now. He’s happy to submit to you, it feels so good, so perfectly sweet, like he was made to be underneath you like this. But his body screams for release, to roll you over and fuck you hard until you squeeze his cock so tight there’s no choice in his cumming.  

“Wanna cum…wanna cum in your pussy,” He whines, his hips lazily rocking up to meet yours. 

“You will baby, I’ll let you fill me up,” You assure him, slowing the rhythm of your hips, teasing yourself and him for a moment as you close your eyes and let yourself really feel every single inch of him.

Nathan’s lips are parted slightly, pink and flushed, soft gasps leaving him as your hips grind down against his. You remove one of your hands from his wrists, leaning back so you have room to run your thumb over the swell of his bottom lip.

“You okay, baby?”

“Yeah,” He says, his words syrupy, “feels good. So good.”

“Let me in there,” You murmur, tapping two of your  fingers against his lips, and he opens wide immediately. You purposefully clench your cunt around him, a small reward for his obedience and he groans, his back arching as pleasure burns in his veins. 

“I’m gonna soak your cock,” You tell him matter of factly.

Nathan’s eyes go wide, his chest rising fast as his lungs beg for air. No matter what he does its not enough. He’s drowning in you, there’s nothing he can do about it. There’s nothing he really wants to do about it. “Soak my—“

“Nice and wet, all over you. Gonna make us messier,” You whisper, like the sound of his cock gliding in and out of you isn’t already obscene. “You want that don’t you, Nathan?”

He doesn’t have words, just soft, needy sounds. Pleading round eyes. Shallow, noisy breaths. It’s all the answer you need.

“I know, baby. I know. Cum whenever you need to, I’ll make it,” The gentle tone of your voice doesn’t match the devious look in your eyes. 

You know exactly what you’re doing. You know his cock aches with the need to release, know he’s fighting this because he never wants this to end. Know that he’s never been this deep in subspace in his life, that he’ll obey any command you give him.

You shift up on your knees, until you’re taking nothing but the tip, and then rock back, taking him as deep as you can. Bending to your will, Nathan cums with a sound that can only be described as sweet agony. 

As he fills you up, your hips slip into a grind, pressing and pressing the tip of his cock against the sensitive spot inside you. You can feel it coming now, you know just how to twist your hips, just how long to rub at your clit to make it happen. Your thighs grow tight, your cunt clenching as it starts to milk him for everything he’s got. You gush around him, the sound so wet and filthy that Nathan thinks he might cum again. Your slick is everywhere; your thighs, your stomach and all over Nathan, his lower belly glistening with you. He looks down and groans again, need rising sharply in his chest. He wants to taste you. 

“Let me taste you, please. Drown me,” He begs, one of his hands shakily reaching for where the two of you connect.

Your hands fall to the pillows on either side of his head, propping you up from where you’d since collapsed onto him. “Nathan, baby, you’re tired—“

But, Nathan is desperate— as desperate as you were when you asked him to take you to bed, you can hear it in his voice as he pleads, “Sit on my face. Please, please, please, baby. Fucking, please. Let me eat your pussy.”

Your lost to him and his begging. With the little strength you have left, you shuffle up, getting you thighs on either side of his head, gently lowering yourself down through the burn of your muscles. Nathan has another idea, weakly reaching for you and effectively smothering himself in your pussy. Its messy, the sounds of his mouth as he licks and sucks at your clit like a starved man. Like you two hadn’t just stuffed yourselves full at dinner. 

“Nathan,” You mumble, trying to steady yourself by leaning against the headboard. His beard tickles against your thighs, but makes the work of his mouth even better, brushing each and every bit of your sensitive pussy.

Despite your plea, Nathan is insatiable, pulling you down by his grip on your ass. He’s gasping and whining into your cunt, like it's all too much and too little at the same time. He can hardly breathe with how firmly he’s got you pressed against his face, though he wouldn’t change his position for the world. He would happily die here if it was what you wanted.

He can feel your thighs shaking against the sides of his head and knows that you’re close to cumming. Doubling his efforts, Nathan switches from running his tongue through your folds to focusing solely on your clit, circling and circling in a maddening technique. When you fall apart on his tongue, he presses his tongue inside of you, eager to drink up every single drop of your sweet honey. 

He feels like he’s cumming again, his cock jerking behind you though there’s nothing for him to release. He feels like he’s been split right open, all of his tender, vulnerable spots on display.

It takes several minutes for Nathan to come back to himself once you shift off of his face, laying your body against his. He’s gasping for air with tightly shut eyes, his entire body shaking. You run a hand up and down his chest, cooing soft praises as you try to soothe him. 

He stares at the ceiling, steadying his breaths. “Jesus fucking Christ, baby. You’re the filthiest person I’ve ever met.”

You tilt your chin to look up at him, admiring the shine of his beard that’s completely covered in you. A mark that he’s yours. “Thank you.”

The grin on your face— you’re trying to fucking kill him. How many times has he thought since he’s started this endeavor of winning your heart and why is it not over now that he has? Your grin is smug, full of fire, the fire he’s wanted from the moment he laid his eyes on you. He loves you so fucking much. If this is what he gets, he’ll be better for the rest of his life. He’ll move to the city, do the house in the crowded suburbs with the picket fence, get married. Have kids, and attend the most boring PTA meetings that plan bake sales. Bake sales where he’d have to make cookies— real cookies, not the ones with coconut sugar and almond flour, and low sugar chocolate. If it was what you wanted he’d do it all. Any of it at the drop of a hat.

“What are you thinking about?” You trace small shapes on his chest, enjoying the post-coital cuddle. 

“You.”

“What about me?”

“That you’re everything,” He says easily. It’s nice— the reservations, the anxiety that he had about all of this has faded in the shadows. 

With you, Nathan gets to be completely honest, knowing that he’s safe. None of what his parents said was true. He’s not unlovable. He’s not selfish. He isn’t just a fuck up that can never amount to anyone’s expectations. Despite his mistakes, he’s allowed to be loved. 

“Remember when I was just your employee?” You ask teasingly, snuggling further into him.

“Fuck, I was an idiot for months. Best thing I’ve ever had, dangling in front of me in plain sight.”

“Not Bluebook?”

“No.”

“Or buying that property?”

“No.”

“The money?”

“No.”

“Your freedom?”

He snorts, “My freedom?”

“You said I could do whatever I wanted to you,” You remind him. 

“And I fucking meant it.”

“It doesn’t sound very…freeing. Very Nathan,” You muse softly. 

Nathan’s quiet for a long time— so long that you grow nervous, afraid that you’ve said the wrong thing. Just as you’re about to sit up to apologize, he wraps his arms around you, dropping a kiss on your forehead, “This, sweetheart, is the freest I’ve ever been in my life.” 

Fin

nathan taglist: @missdictatorme, @hon3yboy, @runa-falls, @campingwiththecharmings, @toracainz, @steven-grants-world, @clemdango04, @jdbxws, @crispysublimecupcake, @sub-aro, @faretheeoscar, @cupidysm, @whentheskyispinkandabitblue, @nova-ivy541, @sparkypantelones, @veritable-trash, @mangoslushcrush, @thhriller @tenderhornynihilist, @queerponcho

[matchavellichor]

A Misplaced Apparition

Garreth Weasley x f!MC - Fluff/Banter - 3.2k words - ao3 link

While helping Garreth forage for potion ingredients, a misplaced apparition leaves you both magic-less and stranded somewhere in the Forbidden Forest.

Black Cat MC, Golden Retriever Garreth // Huddling for Warmth/One Bed trope // MC is a little mean, Garreth is a pining himbo who loves her for it

Recent Weasley Wednesdays have awakened something in me for this man and I just... 🫠 had to write a dumb lil fic

“Just stay quiet and stay behind me.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Garreth gives you a mock salute before he follows you further into the moss-covered cavern. Water drips from stalactites on the ceiling, the sound echoing eerily off the stone walls. 

Your wand is outstretched in front of you, a soft glow emitting from the tip of the wood and illuminating the surrounding space. The lair is quiet, too quiet, and your shoulders are strung high with anticipation, reflexes trained to react accordingly to any threat.

At the first sight of an acromantula, Garreth shrieks, before you quickly slash the creature’s head off with a slicing hex. Suddenly the cave is not so quiet, the sound of numerous legs scrambling down the stone passageways of the cavern some distance away, quiet hisses and clicking. 

“Shout a little bit louder, will you?” You chastise. “I think you only woke about eighty percent of the colony.”

“Oh, my bad!” Garreth retorts. “I’ll make sure to keep my cool the next time a hairy, eight-legged monster lunges for my throat.”

He quickly kneels beside the carcass, grimacing when he slices into the exoskeleton of the creature with a scalpel and black goo immediately drenches his fingers. He makes a small puncture in the venomous gland and collects the liquid into a vial, corking it and wiping his hands with a disgusted shudder. “Merlin, I hate spiders.”

“Yet you drag me to an acromantula lair?”

“Uh, duh? I’m not spending 100 galleons a pint on this stuff when I have my own personal body guard to help me extract it for free. Plus, this is—” He interrupts himself with another shriek when a second acromantula, about twice the size of the first, pounces from the shadows, fangs flared. You immediately incinerate the creature with a confringo, but Garreth bumps into you in his fright, knocking your wand out of your hand and sending it rolling out of reach on the stone floor of the cavern, your lumos going out with it.

“Weasley, you dimwit!” You groan, feeling around on your hands and knees for the lost wand. It’s pitch black inside the lair, and you know the longer you sit around defenseless and blind, the greater your chance of ending up as spider dinner. 

“I found it!” He announces, reigniting the lumos with your wand in hand. He walks back over to you with a smug smile before his eyes catch on something over your shoulder and his expression immediately drops. 

You can hear the tell-tale click of pincers behind you and it doesn’t take a genius to guess what’s got him shitting his trousers. Before you can even take back your wand and defend yourself, he’s yanking you into his chest by the collar of your coat and you’re feeling your entire body squeeze with the tug of apparition.

A few seconds later, you land flat on the ground on top of him, limbs entangled in one another’s. You both wince from the impact, your insides feeling like they’ve been rearranged in the wrong order. 

“I’m…I’m going to kill you.” You groan, willing yourself not to throw up your lunch all over him.

“‘Oh, thank you, Garreth, for saving us from the big, angry spider.’” He mimics, voice shrill and high-pitched. You’re unamused. 

“I would’ve handled it!” You retort, sliding off his chest. You sit up, trying to gain some level of composure after just having all of your atoms immaterialized and recombined. “Where the hell did you even take us?”

He takes a look around, scratching his head as he tries to spot some identifying landmark. “Er, I’m…not sure.” 

“Oh, lovely.”

“I wasn’t thinking! There was a ginormous spider in front of me, I kind of just pictured in my head ‘not here’, you know?”

“Perfect! We could be in bloody Uzbekistan right now!” 

“I’m flattered that you think I’m powerful enough to accomplish transcontinental apparition at the drop of a hat,” He splays a hand over his chest, a smirk tugging at his lips. He takes another look around the immediate surroundings. “But, we’re clearly still in Scotland, don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

“I’m going to put off throttling you at the moment for both of our sakes,” You pick yourself up off the ground, head still slightly woozy, before you outstretch your hand in front of him. “Just give me my wand so we can get out of here.” 

He slowly gets up himself, revealing the piece of wood snapped in two, having been wedged underneath both of you when you apparated.

You gape at the crushed wand, now just a dull, magic-less stick after having severed its core. “I’m going to kill you.”

“You’ve said that already. I don’t think it’s possible to kill someone twice, even with your talents.”

“Garreth, this is serious!” You seethed. “You snapped my wand!”

“I didn’t snap anything, it was a blameless casualty!” He raised his hands in a placating gesture, trying to calm you.

“Oh my God, just, nevermind.” You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Take out yours and apparate us out of here, for the love of Merlin, before I burst an artery.” 

He scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “So…about that.”

You look at him dumbfounded. “Tell me you’re joking.”

“Well, excuuuse me for having a little faith in my friend,” He scoffs. “You wield Ancient Magic, for Merlin’s sake! I assumed I was in safe enough hands to leave it in my dorm.”

“Perfect, so we’re stranded in a random forest without any magic.”

“Look, just relax, we’re probably not far from Hogwarts,” He squints his eyes as he focuses on a particularly ordinary piece of shrubbery. “You know what, yeah,” He tilts his head, contemplative, as if this random bush has given him a grand epiphany. “I know exactly where we are, it’s uh— right this way.”

“Oh, then by all means,” You gesture your hand forward.

He takes a couple over-confident steps north before he stops in his tracks, squints and scratches the back of his head as he examines the path in front of him. He turns on his heels on a ninety-degree angle and resumes his strides. “Okay, just kidding. This way, yes, yes, definitely this way.” 

“You have no idea where we’re going, do you?” 

“Of course I do!” 

—

The two of you make your way through the woods for several, long, grueling hours, cutting through thickets and beaten-down paths. For the first few hours it’s admittedly a little peaceful, the forest floor covered in reds and oranges from the autumn leaves, the setting sun casting a warm glow over the treescape. Soon enough though, the last vestiges of daylight dwindle into darkness, shrouding the forest in twilight. When you realize you seem to be nowhere closer to civilization, you stop in your tracks, defeated.

“This is pointless,” You sigh, rubbing the back of your neck. Your feet ache from stepping over so many overgrown roots and boulders and you’re starting to feel sleep pull at your eyes. “We’re clearly getting nowhere.”

“You’re right,” He relented, letting the rucksack slung over his shoulder sink to the floor. “So what now?”

“I think this is the point where we draw lots to decide who eats who.” You sigh. “It’s our best chance at survival.”

He looks genuinely concerned at your seriousness for a moment before he breaks into a smug smirk. “Oh love, if you wanted a piece of this,” He gives you a little wink. “All you had to do was ask.”

You blink at him. “You’ve cured my appetite. Thank you, Weasley.”

“Anytime.” 

“Let’s just…call it in for the night.” You lay back on the grass, legs aching. You’re so exhausted you’d probably kiss the blast end of a skrewt for a warm bed. “We’ll walk more in the morning.”

“Good idea.” He kneels down beside you, rummaging through his bag and pulling out various materials that he’s managed to fit inside with an expansion charm.

“Let me get this straight,” You squint at the litter cluttering the floor around you. “You bring with you a frying pan,” You dangle the lunky piece of metal in front of his face. “But not your wand.” 

“Uh, yeah?” He scoffs as if it’s obvious. “You never know when you might want a quick snack in the middle of your gallivanting.”

“Great, so I assume you also have some means of starting a fire then? It’s freezing.” 

His response is a silent pause, to which you return with a groan. 

“Has anyone ever told you you’re not really the sharpest tool in the shed?”

“I have no idea what that means,” He looks at you a little puzzled. “But Sallow has told me I’m not the brightest lacewing fly in the jar.” He scratches his chin, contemplating. “Never really understood what he meant by that.” He shrugs to himself and continues sorting through the madness stuffed in his sack. 

“You know, Weasley, you’re so clueless sometimes it’s almost adorable. Like a… big, red Puffskein or something.”

He perks up, looking up at you with a grin stretching ear to ear. “You think I’m adorable?”

“You have selective hearing, huh?”

“Yup,” He pauses for a moment, and you can almost see the little gears turning in his head before he opens his mouth to say something that’s going to give you an even bigger headache. “Okay, so, hypothetically — if aforementioned adorable critter was very tall and very ginger, would you ever shag a Puffsk—”

“Christ, alright, forget I said anything about Puffskeins.” 

He raises his hands in an acquiescing gesture before he’s back to rummaging through his bag. You watch as he pulls out cheeses and breads wrapped in cloth, crackers and little jars of jams. The man packs an entire charcuterie board but doesn’t pack basic survival necessities like matches. He grins proudly when he pulls out his pièce de résistance, or so he calls it, a large bottle of cheap, goblin-made elderberry wine.

“Really splurged on the good stuff, huh?” You mutter, a thick layer of sarcasm slathered on top. You eye the label of the bottle, that has enough alcohol stuffed in it to inebriate a young manticore.

“Duh,” He slices you a piece of sourdough. You’re glad that if you’re attacked by poachers or a wild animal, at least you’ll have a flimsy bread knife to defend yourselves with. “What kind of man would I be if I didn’t properly wine and dine my lady on our date.”

“Date, huh?” You snort. You lean in, tapping a finger to his temple. “Think you might’ve hit your head a little too hard when we apparated, Weasley. Something’s not right in there.”

“Oh, that’s not true,” He turns to look at you, a small smile playing at his lips. He holds two jars of jam in front of you. “That I hit when I fell for you. Quite a nasty tumble.” He gives you a wink and you roll your eyes. “Apricot or blackberry?”

“Apricot.”

He opens the jar and slathers a generous layer on top of your bread. It’s admittedly a little endearing to watch him slicing a piece of cheese for you, nimble fingers focusing on the presentation. He hands you the bread with a little ta-da and you bite back a smile. 

He makes true on his promise to wine and dine you for the better part of the evening, and you admittedly find yourself enjoying his company a little too much. He’s witty and charming, and despite how much you tease him for being an idiot, he’s so blaringly not. He talks in detail about his latest brewing endeavors, and you marvel at how much practical and theoretical knowledge he has about the subject. 

You admire the way his green eyes light up when he speaks about what he’s passionate about. At how they almost seem to glow when he says something that makes you laugh, a proud smile on his face. 

“You look pretty like this,” He murmurs some time after the laughter and conversation died down, moonlight casting a soft glow around your surroundings. It’s cold out considering it’s the middle of October, but there’s a pleasant warmth seeping through you from the wine in your stomach and the feel-good banter. You try not to think about how warm he makes you feel, spreading through your body like hot honey. 

“Like what?”

“All giggles and smiles,” He nudges your shoulder. “Not so serious. You should do it more often.”

You shrug, chancing a side-long glance at him, a small smile tugging at your lips from the sincereness in his voice. “You should make me do it more often.” 

“Believe me,” He grins, lopsided and charming. You’d press your lips to that stupid smile of his, chase the taste of sugary blackberry off his tongue, but you haven’t had nearly enough wine to lower your inhibitions to that point. You just observe him. 

“I would dedicate my life to doing exactly so if you let me.”

—

“Aha! Found it.” Garreth pulls out a thick, rolled-up comforter with twine around the middle from the depths of his rucksack, holding it up proudly. It’s plush, and very red and gold — because of course, even Garreth’s sleeping bag has to be on brand. He lays it out under the cover of a large oak tree, smoothing down the fabric. 

“Alrighty, climb in,” He pats the soft material. “I don’t mind sharing as long as you promise not to murder me in my sleep.”

“I’m fine right here,” You huddle into yourself on the soft patch of grass you’re laying on, knees bunched up to your chest. “Also, no promises.” 

“It’s freezing,” He protests. “You can’t really expect me to let you sleep like that.”

“You don’t have to let me do anything,” You roll your eyes. “I’m sleeping right here.”

“Stop being stubborn and get in the bag.”

“No. I don’t want to get in the bag.”

“Just get in the bag.”

“Oh my god,”

“Get—”

“I’m two seconds away from strangling you.”

“Oho, don’t threaten me with a good time.”

“Weasley.”

“Fine, fine!” He chuckles. “Grouchy. No strangling.”

He settles down for all but five seconds before he opens his mouth again. “Unless it’s erotic strangling, then by all mea—”

“For the love of—”

“Alright, alright! Shutting up now.” 

—

You try to keep the sound of your teeth-chattering to a minimum, determined to not give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s right, but you last all of twenty minutes before all of your resolve is withering away. 

You peer over at Garreth, his eyes closed, sound asleep. He looks so infuriatingly soft and inviting, and you hate yourself for thinking that his arms would feel heavenly wrapped around you right now, your body pressed to his, leeching off his warmth. 

Screw it.

You stand up from your spot, muttering curses to yourself under your breath as you make your way towards him. The second he hears you move, he lifts an arm to open up a space for you, as if expecting it. He doesn’t make a comment, doesn’t even open his eyes, but you can feel his self-satisfied smirk as you slide into the sleeping bag with him, your back pressed to his chest. 

And fuck him, if he doesn’t have a right to be self-satisfied. 

Because he truly does feel heavenly. He somehow manages to be cushiony and firm all at the same time. You can feel the rigid contours of his muscles pressed against your frame, taut yet velvety soft. You chalk up the heat you feel on your cheeks to the fact that his skin is warm like a furnace, devastatingly comforting. When you press back against him, your body wriggling against his like you’re draping yourself over a sun-bathed rock, he takes it as an open invitation to slide his hands over your sides, arms wrapping around you. 

“For fuck’s sake, I’m not your teddy bear—” You grumble but he hushes you.

“I know, Mr. Snuffles is a lot nicer.” He murmurs, cheek pressed against your shoulder. “But, you make do with what you’ve got in the rugged wilderness, I suppose.” 

You snort, the image of Garreth actually cuddling with a teddy bear coming into mind. You try not to linger on the fact that’s probably what it’d look like he’s doing at the moment to an outsider’s eyes, his body significantly dwarfing yours. 

“Mr. Snuffles? Really?”

“Hey! I named him when I was eight.” He retorts. “Mmhm, you do smell a lot nicer than him, though.”

“I smell like sweat and dirt.” 

“Yeah, but it’s you, so it’s like a…pleasant sweat and dirt.”

“You’re a very strange individual.”

“I love it when you sweet-talk me.”

You shift against him, letting yourself sink against his body because he feels just too good wrapped around you for you to protest. “Will you take your wand out of your pocket? It’s poking me.”

“I don’t have my wand. That’s something else.”

“Oh God—”

“I’m teasing!” He chuckles. “It’s my deluminator.” He slips the strange contraption from his pocket and flicks it open, a soft glow emitting from the tip. He tucks it away and wraps himself back around you. 

“Come on, do you think me some kind of pervert? I’ve been picturing Leander in a bathing suit the moment you came in.”

You snort. “Oh, so that’s why you have an erection,” You tease. “And here I was thinking you were just happy to see me.”

“Hilarious.” 

He shifts you against him, rearranging you how he pleases in the tight space of the sleeping bag so your face is pressed against his chest. He tucks a leg between yours, entangling your limbs as if he’d find any ounce of personal space an offense. He sighs contentedly at the feeling of your warm breath against his skin, squeezing you even tighter. 

“Do you have to manhandle me like this?” You grumble, though make no efforts to move out of position. It is admittedly a little nice to be his plush toy for a night, to feel his strong arms wrapped around you, his chin resting on top of your head. Okay, screw it, it’s actually insanely nice.

“Be less easy to manhandle then.” 

—

“Are they dead?”

“Dunno, —uh, try poking one?”

You wake up with a startled gasp, sitting up and finding two third-years hovering over you in Quidditch uniforms, brooms in hand, and a mixture of curiosity and concern shrouding their expressions.

They both look startled when you wake, jumping back. 

Garreth groans beside you as you shift, wrapping his arms around your waist and sleepily murmuring “Five more minutes,” with his face pressed against your stomach.

“Are you alright, miss?”

“Uh, fine,” You stammer. “How…how are you here?” 

“What do you mean?”

“How’d you get here?”

They both look at you confused. “You realize Hogwarts is just about a hundred meters that way, right?” One of the boys asks, perplexed. He nods his head towards the direction they likely came from. “We just came here to retrieve a stray Quaffle.” 

“Oh, uh…yes.” Your cheeks burn with embarrassment. “Yes, I knew that.”

The boys just shrug before they hop back on their brooms, snickering to themselves as they make their way back to the Quidditch field.

Garreth hasn’t stirred a muscle during the entire interaction, blissfully asleep beside you. You sigh when he sleepily pulls you back down and into his arms, tucking you against his chest.

You decide to give him his five more minutes.

[see-arcane]

Ok here goes

The Red Book 📕

Unknown and Terrible 🌑⚰️

Long Night Drive 🚙 (if I ever travel again to the USA I am doing so again why are night roadtrips so eerie there what happened)

The Harker Records 🖤 🖋️

Death's Dogs 🐕☠️

The M.A.D Gods 😤

Bloody Anniversary 💒

Lady Luna Blue 🔵

The Red Book 📕: A collection of some more explicitly saucy supernatural works. I tend to kind of tiptoe around any direct sexual/erotic aspects in things I write, so this would be more like a writing exercise than anything else, just to see how I can rework (disdainful literati voice) ~smut~ into something meatier ha ha than just a one-and-done indulgence shot. I don't see this one being put together anytime soon, as, again, I'm still prone to side-stepping outright raunchiness versus innuendo. But we'll see what happens.

Unknown and Terrible 🌑⚰️: Short version? Jonathan Harker winds up as the new Dracula following a very bloody climax in Transylvania. He uses Scholomance magic to pull Francis' reincarnation bullshit out through his nose, brings Mina back as a new soul, and tries to get her back. It is very much about me being a petty prick and proving Jonathan and Mina = The Better Romance and the Better Tragic Vampire Lovers. Choke on it, Francis.

Long Night Drive 🚙: This one fittingly only seems to haunt me when I'm driving after dark on empty roads. The premise being a sort of liminal What If? What if someone started a long drive at night and neither the road or the night ever ended? What if the last wrong turn turned them off of Earth's road map and onto Someplace Else's? Ideally this would only hit the driver on a night of Importance. One of those 'things are crossing over' nights--and they crossed over in the wrong direction. Uh oh.

The Harker Records 🖤 🖋️: Oh, but this one gives me brain itches. It's hazy at the edges, but it'd be a sort of fusion between anthology and purposeful/linked Big Narrative. Basically, the Harkers and their friends start becoming unofficial monster hunters/recorders/aides. I always love when paranormal stories have it work out so that if you're stamped once by the uncanny, the uncanny continues to gravitate toward you. I'd like to see them interact with myriad eerie happenings across public domain horrors together. Peak couple's activity <3

Death's Dogs 🐕☠️: An examination of how Death has an abundance of dogs with various tasks bred into them. And how Dracula maybe crossed the paths of more than one spectral hound during his English holiday.

The M.A.D Gods 😤: Augh, it's gathered so much dust, BUT I STILL LOVE IT AND MY WEIRD NUCLEAR NEON YELLOW PANTHEON SO MUCH. The gist is that 1) The Universe was made by one entity basically ejecting the bulk of Its body mass away so Matter could happen and flourish 2) That shit's tiring 3) The Atomic God (named because It is responsible for every atom in the universe) closes Earth around it like shell/blanket for an eons-long nap 4) It creates two guard-gods, Maker and Breaker, to keep any cosmic horror jerks out of the neighborhood--It ditched them to make the known universe so It could have some peace, finally. 5) Hijinks ensue as Maker and Breaker dutifully chokeslam any Lovecraftian interlopers out of the galaxy and spend their free time watching humanity fuck shit up

Bloody Anniversary 💒: An unexpected meetup of various couples in various states of actually being in love, each celebrating their anniversary. One of these couples is older than they seem. And maybe not celebrating the anniversary anyone would expect.

Lady Luna Blue 🔵: Started out as alternative what-if for who the Pretty Girl in Piccadilly might be. She could still go that route, but I think my imagination has long since run off with her into more original territory. Lady Luna Blue is her professional name; at least as Victorian era mediums and mystics go. In-between card readings and seances, she catches the attention of something with much more supernatural weight than she's prepared for. And it happily takes advantage when she invites any 'wandering spirits' in.

[do-minuzz]

so let's look actually realistically at thoschei ship

and in realistically I mean looking with all the EU stuff that happend between them, because yeah that's basically the main conflict stuff

be careful there's a lot of words that I wrote without thinking twice lmao

why thoschei isn't canon yet?

so from the doctor's point of view I think the main reason is that he just cannot morally accept master as the way he is, not only due to his cunning nature which just cannot flow in the same stream with him, but also due to doctors morality codex which is fully conflicting with masters

and what hurts me even more is that it's fully doctors fault. which doctor also feels guilty of, but he never acknowledges it nor wants to because welp, doctor is a coward and that's it. he's afraid that it will eventually turn him into something else than doctor - doctor is supposed to save others, not running around with local universal criminal with weird principles

when we look from the master's point of view it's very different. master is just STUCK with doctor. he doesn't have anyone to kneel on, just no one who would be actually interested in him and no one who would give him admiration and understanding. it's so fucking horrible to be honest.

only doctor was able to do so, they had similar paths, and master was fully trusting him, and then doctor did a lot of things which resulted in betrayal. and master just didn't turn evil. hot take: master NEVER was evil and NEVER will be evil. It depends on from which eyes we're looking for.

if we're looking from the doctor point of view yeah, master is evil thats it. he's immoral and evil.

evil and good is a question of perspective.

so master did not turn evil for EVERYONE alright, he was just evil towards the doctor because of betrayal, and if you think about it - everything what was master doing eventually led to doctor

was it intentional? yeah, at the beginning of it

but with time that line just got blurred and he's doing everything instinctively.

and when there's no doctor around for thousand or so years, master isn't so «evil» anymore. he's just... koschei.

so with this I can say that the identity of master was created by doctor himself. there's SO MUCH more to it that I could write a fucking essay thirty pages long just describing all the shit they caused to eachother lifes (please god just let them reduce to atoms I swear-)

so for the thoschei to be canon(i mean healthy and almost fully established) we need a doctor who's not considering himself a doctor anymore.

luckily we have one! it's 14th :DDD

and we need a master who's not in need anymore to get admiration and awe from doctor using rage and a lot of killing in process involved

which could be anyone if doctor is able to redeem himself in eyes of master, redeem all this betrayal, give up his title

and then master will not have to run and kill everyone on sight because well... doctor-not-doctor-but-a-friend-from-distant-past is here. he's available and free™

and then they'll be able to start again from almost scratch

but through giving up themselves and building up again together.

so the main point of all this shit: saxteen is canon XDDDD

but actually I'm going to explore this deep further later in my fic for sure.

[kerubimcrepin]

Episode 22 - The Giant Ploomers (part 1)

Very glad to report that I am writing this liveblog from my pc yet again.

It's so nice to see him doing some actual work, instead of just Fucking Around.

Kittyyyyy.

I know that it's cartoon logic, and all, but like... It's so unserious that she is made fun of for this to me.

If I saw these in real life, I would think, "these people have a REALLY weird carpet that's made from the same fabric as underwear. And that's okay."

A kids cartoon being unrealistic. Smh, smh...

Guy who just realized he admitted to a weird fucking thing that most people would NOT understand. Including me. Because I don't understand.

Also, this entire moment is a Certified Kerubim Face Journey by far. There are like 20 different expressions here.

He is so... weird. And I both detest and love him for it.

Coward Simone vs. Joris, the bravest warrior of the World of Twelve.

Lou's birthday is somewhere in the summer. Quite funny, considering Joris's is in winter. That's two characters we can pinpoint (though, I wouldn't call "knowing the exact date of Joris's birth" pinpointing, but I digress.)

For some reason, I have so many Emotions about this goddamned tower being a reoccurring location for Lou and Kerubim.

It's a nice little spot, yeah, but through being a nice little spot, it gained ~emotional significance~

(Guy who thinks a lot voice)

I like it that Kerubim even as a young little boy has unrestricted access to huppermage materials that he's probably read. Bit of a win for the "Kerubim studied necromancy" truthers among us.

His ideas of gifts are "skull" and "spellbook"

Ouughughgh (keels over) do you think he chooses gifts for Joris's birthday like that too.

This spellbook is so cringe for immediately falling apart in his paws. What if I wanted to see Kerubim interact with Forbidden Materials, hm?

Cats are Liquid is an indie 2D platformer game from 2015, it is about depression, and it is available for free on Google Play.

I know it's very obvious, especially with bands being a thing, but records are a thing in the World of Twelve. Which is cool.

...God, you have no idea how hard it is not to use this moment to plug my character playlists for Kerubim, Joris, and Atcham.

This you?

This you?

This you - this you - this you?

Anyway, hot take, but:

I think this episode takes place before Dance Against Boowolves due to him becoming a bit okay with girly things in it.

Next time you say that Atom is the first nonbinary character in Krosmoz, remember Kerubim. You're making her sad.

If someone did this to me, ripping this shit off instead of peeling them slowly and gently, I would do unspeakable evils onto them.

She is a very patient and gentle soul for simply beating them up.

A fate worse than death, Keke. A fate worse than death.

[sibillascribbles08]

Decided to do the TMNTVDAY month because I need to spread more propaganda for this ship (I see y’all liking all the posts for it on my blog I SEE you)

1. In which TMNT universe does your pairing exist?

Rise, mainly because it’s the only one I’m still familiar with haha

2. Introduce us to your OTP.

Hi it’s Jasonnie, I’m predictable. Jason and Donnie (”Who the fuck is Jason”) He’s the little purple dragon guy. I literally can’t blame you if you don’t remember he’s in THREE episodes ! (Would he have been in more if the show hadn’t been cut off? I can hope) Anyway my brain has a terrible habit of looking at underdeveloped background characters and saying “it’s free real estate”, so lets be very clear the only reason I love his character so much is cause I made like 89% of it aslkjf.

3. How did they meet?

According to canon, when Donnie was helping April in the computer lab where he tried to show off and then got all his shit stolen lmao.

4. How is the relationship now?

Depends how long it’s been. The few stories I have with this ship always take the route of enemies to friends to lovers, and some move much slower than others haha.

But I suppose to give more details and elaborate on how I picture their dynamic, although the two come to adore each other there’s always an antagonistic streak between them that never goes away, it just becomes more playful rather than mean. Affectionate insults are a regular occurrence, and neither of them have an issue with calling the other out when they do something stupid. You’d think it’d lead to more arguments, but generally their combined blunt nature causes them to communicate more often (not that there aren’t still snags that come up).

Also like, nerds, in more ways than one. Sure the tech stuff is obvious but while Donnie adores Jupiter Jim, Lou Jitsu and Atomic Lass, Jase is over here with tons of gundam and transformer models and will watch any film that features a giant robot. More than one date is spent with one or the other talking about something for an hour and a half straight.

5. What is each other’s love language?

Donnie’s main one is gift giving, which sometimes goes overboard. Jase has to be careful mentioning he ever wants anything because there’s a good chance Donnie will show up a week later having either bought it, stolen it, or built it from scratch. He also likes to give things when he makes apologies, often cookies or snacks.

Jase’s is actually touch, though it took some time for him to be on a comfort level for that to be obvious. You wouldn’t expect it either, for how often he complains if Donnie ever picks him up, but he enjoys almost any form of contact. For the days Donnie’s overwhelmed and isn’t up for it, he’s also content to just sit in the same room (Quality time being his secondary language).

6. Do they get married or have any kids?

I may never write about it but yes asldjf fun fact tho, Donnie names their daughter Holly (after Holly Blue).

7. What is your favorite thing about this pairing? (Gush as much as you want!)

Listen part of it is just “I built one of these characters from the ground up so I can make this whatever I want” but I really enjoy how their dynamic evolved into keeping each other in check. Jase not eating properly due to anxiety? Donnie brings him his favorite snacks and will stare at him until he eats some of it. Donnie working almost non stop for twelve hours ? Jase snapping at him and possibly even wrestling a device out of his grip until he goes to lay down.

Oh also uh, height difference. Yeah I hc that Donnie gets up to freaking 6′11″ when he’s fully grown and Jase is stuck at 5′3″ sooo

yeah

[doublegoblin]

Writer positivity tag

Thanks @lola-theshowgrl for the tag, thinkin we could all do with a little more positivity!

1. What motivates you to write?

Well you've got the good of fulfilling a creative need/want. The sense of "oh man I wish I could do that" and then just actually doing it. And adding something to the world that maybe somebody else might enjoy.

But, there's also the reasoning of helping me work through some stuff and keeping me grounded when the brain juice machine breaks. I picked writing up more consistently when I was between jobs and in a pretty dark place. Also when I am feeling overstimulated or just there is just T O O M U C H going on, I can slip away and guide that energy towards something rather than letting it sit and cause my atoms to vibrate out of existence.

2. A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them)

So this is from the second story with Hank and Mikey, idk, when I was writing it out I couldn't help but giggle. I did change it a little as the flow wasn't quite right before.

~

As the man’s head slowly loomed down into view his expression changed from a confident sneer to a confused frown. Pointed right between his eyes was the barrel of a sawed-off shotgun. His eyes traced it up to the hand holding it, up the arm, then all the way to Hanks beet red face and burning eyes. 

“I-” the man started to say.

“Merry Christmas, get the fuck out.”

~

3. Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them and what are they like?

Hank/Mikey. I don't write too much about them, as they are pretty recent. But, they are just a couple of dudes who love each other and weird shit just keeps happening to them. They occupy a place in my writing brain when I want to write something spooky but silly, where the victim ends up being the monster causing the problem.

They aren't monster hunters or anything, they just get out of dodge by pure dumb-shit luck. Like hitting a monstrous deer with a baseball bat.

4. What process of writing do you enjoy the most?

Starting with an idea and then just having the characters take it over and watching where it all goes from there. Also, making accidental metaphors, there have been a couple of times I've gotten done writing and had a lightbulb moment of "oh I did something there without thinking"

An example: When Alex goes to see Dave they transmute their body into a porcelain like material. I had originally thought of it like a doll and doll master thing, but Dave is a being or more order and regulations and the porcelain could represent the outwardly beautiful but ultimately very fragile nature of order and laws.

5. What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

I think I write pretty decent dialogue. Maybe not the most profound but I feel like I get the timing and flow of a natural conversation pretty well. If anything else I let the character of the, well, character come through in their words.

6. What is something in the writeblr community is most enjoyable?

Honestly I really like these tag games, they keep me on my toes and actually writing. That and it gives me a chance to put little tidbits out there for people to see and maybe come check me out.

7. A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

Bruh I just use google docs so lol idk. If I had to answer, laptop. It frees up a lot of space and ability to do my own thing when my partner wants to use the computer.

8. A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law etc)

It is super simple but how is Rituals and Red Tape, the eldritch cults/nature of the The Board is only comprehensible to those under them as a big ass office culture. They are not your master but your Boss and you aren't a cult member you are an employee. I don't think I'll end up going into too great of detail in the writing but this is based on a misunderstanding between The Board and their first batch of Dreamers, and it just kind of has continued on like that because it works for everyone.

9. What piece of advice would you say to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?

Write slop. Write actual garbage. It doesn't ever have to see the light of day or even the next automatic saving. But, if you are trying to commit to working on a project, the moment you start to lose that drive to write, STOP. I've often closed the document mid sentence or even mid word. Just save it, and close it, don't debate, just close.

10. Tag some people whose works you love/have been your biggest supporters

@asterhaze @dragonscantbetamed @monstrousfreedom @tailoroffates @toribookworm22 - and as always anyone else who wants to added some positivity into their world.

[transxfiles]

For the book ask, number 3, 13, and 24 ?

3. What were your top five books of the year?

it was a difficult time narrowing these down, but probably:

1) It Came From The Closet: Queer Reflections on Horror edited by Joe Vallese 2) Sir Gawain & The Green Knight translated by Burton Raffel 3) An Unauthorized Fan Treatise by Lauren James 4) The Last Unicorn by Peter S. Beagle 5) Pinky & Pepper Forever by Eddy Atoms

margaret atwood's oryx and crake, tom stoppard's rosencrantz & guildenstern are dead, and sarah ruhl's the clean house are all runners-up. and there are lots more tbh,,, this was a good reading year for me!! (in terms of enjoyment at the very least)

13. What were your least favorite books of the year?

this one's also kind of hard to narrow down, because i disliked various books for various different reasons. the luminous dead by caitlin starling was a pretty low point because i spent YEARS tracking down a copy of this book, paid for it FULL PRICE, had heard so many good things about it - and then it was a massive let down. mid plot mid romance awful worldbuilding (in my opinion) and very poor storytelling/writing. like, from a craft standpoint, just not very good. it was a massive letdown and it's a situation where i can't believe i spent my own money on it, yknow?

a more recent let-down was crazy food truck by rokurou ogaki, i had some free time before exams one day so i just sat down in a corner of my local bookstore and started reading this one. i heard about it either at the very end of 2022 or the very beginning of this year and put in for an ARC on netgalley but didn't get it (probably for the better tbh?) and the one-sentence description sounds really fun - grizzled man runs a food truck in a post-apocalyptic wasteland. but the way the author portrayed his only female character was so awful i just couldn't do it.

there are definitely others, but these are the first two that come to mind.

24. Did you DNF anything? Why?

YES i used to be a completionist but 2023 was the year i started embracing the power of a good DNF. had to stop reading the troop by nick cutter bc even though it was really interesting horror from a conceptual standpoint, the graphic violence against animals and children was really starting to fuck me up, and i got to a certain point in the book where it was clear it would only get worse and i just had to put it down. thought i'd be able to get over it in a day or two (normally horror books just don't bother me?) but i didn't and i ended up selling the book to a local secondhand bookstore two days after that.

i also DNF'd something to talk about by meryl wilsner after trying to read it for like a year and a half. i picked it up a while ago at a thrift store and i was SO excited bc i never see lesbian romances at thrift stores and something to talk about specifically was a big deal bc it was the first lesbian romance novel published by a mainstream romance publisher iirc. but it's SO. SOOOOO. SOOOOOOOO fucking boring. it's not even a slow burn that shit is glacial and listen i don't mind a lesbian romance that moves at a snail's pace but the book WAS the romance. or at least was supposed to be. and the non-romance subplots simply were not strong enough to support the rest of the story. AND the two leads had negative chemistry, just like, nothing going on there in my opinion. and most of the characters had the same voice </3 so frustrating bc i wanted to enjoy this book so bad which is why i stuck with it for so long, but after a while i just said "nope i can't do this anymore" and donated it.

[benefits1986]

The Inner Child Chronicles

Weekends are meant for free play in this adult adulterated world, yes?

Another heated maroons and cool-warm blue live game came this Sunday. Was supposed to pen this right after coming home around midnight because... however, I'd like to write it out during early mornings for the vibe and for the heck of it.

I also had debriefs and talked to some people and managed to squeeze in three hours of sleep. What I am realizing is that I'm watching games live because my inner child is finally coming of age. Gone are the days when I would hole up myself over each game I like to watch live but not do so because I don't feel like I earned that spot in Araneta or SM Arena. It's not just about the school spirit and wearing your school color and school pride. It's way bigger than that. All my life, there's no other school I'd like to be part of except UP Diliman or Ateneo. Syempre, doon tayo sa mas mura at makatotohanang choice 'di ba? If you ask me why... eto lang. Sobrang simple na walang need na logical explanation. Diliman because of Ikot. Ateneo because of Patty x Atom + Bianca Gonzalez in Candy and Seventeen PH, and seeing weird OOTDs na puwede sa campus. Diliman because I wanted to take up economics and eventually, try my luck in being a lawyer. Ateneo because I know comm courses are actually worthwhile, as in buttery vibes all over. Diliman's chapel is also a legit vibe. As in parang puwede na akong ikasal doon levels basta -ber months para iwas-hulas. CHZ. Diliman because alam ko mahirap makapasok, lalo na makalabas pero sanay naman akong gumapang sa lusak since birth. Same for Ateneo, could have gone for scholarship kaso sabi ng nanay ko, hindi naman kakayanin 'yung allowance at layo; which make some sense naman din.

'Di ba? Ang babaw. Pero that's how I roll talaga e.

So, every game I watch is me talking to my inner child. Kahit one big binat may be waving right now. Sana 'wag naman. Sana ipanalo ko na 'tong virus na 'to kasi 'di rin siya birong itawid. Nag-OD naman na ako ulit ng supplements, kaya sana tapos na. I really can not afford this fog brain for the race to the finish this Q4. So help me, universe!

Our spot yesterday is probably the most interesting spot to date. Hayaan mo ng hindi patron seats because fucking scalpers are milking the shit out of this game. UGH. Wala pa tayo sa exciting part, sky-high prices na talaga?

Which brings to a funny convo I had before the game started. I called P and asked if nasa area ba siya. I have 1 ticket to spare kasi. LOL. Nag-joke na: Wow! Nanood talaga siya ng live ngayon. Araneta pa. Effort. Me: Wala kasi school ko and wala ring pambili ng tickets noon e. Happy? Bumawi naman siya saying na happy siya legit for me and nood kami live sa bakbakan ng Archers and Maroons. Sabi ko, pagiisipan ko. LOLOLLOL. Che. Pero maganda rin laro ng Archers kahit green na 'di ko trip sila.

Also, blue second dad and maroon kiddo me had a short but ugh debrief. Talon daw ang blues. Akala ko typo, hindi pala. And that swerte lang daw maroons this game kaya next time daw ulit. Syempre, hinding-hindi tayo natatakot kahit kanino so sabi ko: Sabi mo e. Next time it is. Hehe. I don't use "hehe" unless provoked and in the mood of sarcasm. We've been talking the past days and gosh, andaming ganaps. We're sooooo excited.

Honestly, the concept of the inner child scared me, initially. Kasi saks lang naman childhood ko. Hindi naman siya super traumatic and generally, happy naman siya. However, the inner child is a way to connect the dots backwards. Steve Jobs. Pasowkkkk. Going back to our seats for last Sunday's game. Of course, Ateneo side na right beside UP. LOLOLLOLL. 'Yun palang panalo na e. I love being on thin ice. CHZ. Hahahahaha. We were seated beside a boomer dad and his college apo or kid. Both are towering AF. In front of us is a big family of maroons and blues. Mom is an IG mom. I guess dad has work or is an expat. Grade school to college age range. Kaya ang lala ng bangayan. As in. The mom would take videos of each "one for the books" reactions. I think mom is from Ateneo. She wore a striped dress but super giddy niya when the blues shoot that ball and get that ball. Andami niyang kiddos and the interactions are worth the layo and the binat, all the more.

I came with a mindset na: Okay. I need to stay in Manila para magpagaling ng tuluyan; so sige, eto na muna. Have a little fun in Manila muna bago mag hibernate. Okay. Sana naman akong matalo so tataya ako doon sa dark horse.

Yes, the 8-1 standing is something; but to me, it's not just about the numbers. The games are gapang sa lusak games and the plays could have been better to be honest. Ako lang 'to a. Ako lang. Siguro kasi, bias ko sila so mas critical ako sa galaw nila or the lack of thereof. As an example, wala masyadong get-back 'pag may mintis. UGH. True talaga na height is but a convenience. Sana mas masipag and mas focused. Maraming butas. Maraming tiny tweaks na kaya at realistic gawain. In the same manner, oks naman maging maliksi pero naman, alamin mo kung kelan mo ipapasa ang bola kesa mala-agawang buko mo ibira. Please lang. Sana Enya PL nila saka 741Hz para medyo mas tumatagos ang bawat intention. :D Aywawww. Apply mo yan, girl sa buhay mo a. Ayusin mo talaga. LOLOLL.

The real reason why I postponed this thought fart is because of this inner child dogshow. Let it be known here in my tiny space that I know why this had to take a long while. SHEMAY. Eto na po. My soul sister always eggs me and irks me that she saw how I shifted from the blah girl to a bitch-you-can girl when I left nursing. I felt like she was just patronizing me which I fucking hate. 'Yung feeling ko na okay, I "failed" at nursing because I can't care for mom and be a care professional 24/7. But, she keeps at it until the past days. Lagi niya talagang masasabi 'yan with feelings. Last night, I realized that my dark blue meets maroon heart is probably the best heart I can have (and give. shet.) in my 37 years of shit-xistence. Perhaps, it's the universe telling me that I needed to tame my jagged and apologetic edges in Leon Guinto before riding countless Ikot and Toki jeeps dahil may laban na ako para ilaban ang gusto ko. Most importantly, mom truly, madly and deeply believed that I'd go all out and max out in Diliman. As in wild kung wild. Looking back, the chances of this happening is not 100%... 10000000000% to the nth power. I'm not talking about the wild na good ha. Wild na panira ng moral compass levels most likely. 'Yung tawag ni mom doon: parang nakawala sa coral. HAHAHAHAHA. Very apt. Very graphic. It's fantastic.

Last night, I saw an Ateneo LS jacket waving proudly at me. HUHUHUHUHUHUHUHU. Syempre, sabi ko kay second dad, oks na ako dito and that AI is the way, the highway and the skyway to hell for this chapter. Pero, para lang matahimik siya. Hindi pa rin ako sumusuko BUT now, I'd like to proceed with intention and caution. Hindi kasi ito basta-basta unlike other career paths and shifts. Ang KPI dito buhay, dignidad at kinabukasan ng bawat kaso na mapapanalo at matatalo mo. HUY. In a world where truth is relative and where a chair cannot be and can be a chair, ergo, fuck yourself hard... LOL... hindi siya biro. For someone na gustong nanalo because I love the sheer joy it brings and hindi rin takot matalo, na moody shitball, na oddball, should I proceed, your honor, chz... dapat buo ako. Hindi puwedeng half-baked lang. And hindi pa doon natatapos ang lahat. Dahil nga ang totoo ay pwedeng kathang-isip lamang lalo na kung alam mo ang galawang Kotler - 4Ps at iba pa, hindi ba? HAHAHAHHA. Evil laugh.

So, yes po. This is indeed my inner child eras tour. Speaking of Taylor, I'd give her another go... baka naman. Just a curious anti-social experiment. As I said, Reputation is a really good one. Hamunang white supremacy shitshow pa rin siya. And sobrang unfair sa fans sa PH na wala siya PERO I think, she will have a biglaang PH concert sa gitna ng kawalan sa Pinas. Para mas pasavogue and trending. LOL. Malasimbo 5.0. Huy. Cultural exploitation na naman po tayo niyan. LELS.

[corpsehusband-simp]

Weight of the World

WARNING: This is a sensitive Fic that deals with depression, mentions of dark thoughts, punching a wall, and anxiety. It has a fluffy ending. 

A/N: Please put yourself first and don't read this fic if it will put you in any kind of dark place because of what is metions and please know that my DM’s are always open. Feel free to message me all hours of the day or night, I am always here to talk.

 Request: this is a touchy request so i understand if you are uncomfortable with writing it. it’s kinda a comfort/coping prompt but can you write corpse x reader where reader has been going through manic depression and just pushes everyone away and performs self destructive behavior, and corpse has to talk y/n out of su*icide? recently i’ve just.. been really going through it is all i can say. if you don’t wanna write it, totally understandable ❤️

Paring: Corpsex reader, Sykkuno x reader (best friends)

You rolled over in your bed as your phone rang, hiding yourself further into your covers. You woken up yesterday morning and your depression had hit you full force. You couldnt really put a finger on wheat caused your manic depressive episode but it was kicking your ass. It had been a while since you felt like this and you couldnt find the strength at the moment to pull yourself out of it and in doing so you were pushing away the person you loved the most. Corpse. The love of your life but you couldnt even answer his phone calls or texts. Instead you physically turned away from his caller ID, the last time you had talked to him was through a text yesterday telling him that you needed space and that was all.

The more you thought about it the angrier it made you, the angrier you became with yourself. As your mind slipped into darker, angrier thoughts your phone rang again but think time it was your best friend Sykkunos ring tone, Big booty bitches. 

Corpse must have called him. You thoguht before reluctantly picking up the phone, wiping tears from your face. “What Sykkuno”

“Oh uh h-hi y/n. I just wanted to uh call you and check up on you, you didnt come to the Among Us lobby yesterday.” You sighed.

“Im fine Sy.” Your tone was short and rough, you hated acting this way but you didnt want to pull anyone else down intot the slump that you were in.

“O-okay, well im here okay. Love you y/n/n”

“Yeah love you too sy. Never forget that.” and with that you hung up on him, tears running down your face again as your thoughts continued down a dark route.

CORPSE POV

Corpse was going out of his mind trying to figure out what was going on with you. After your text yesterday he had been battling his anxiety on wether or not he should oush the situation, corpse knew you depression could get back sometimes but he also understood sometimes people just needed space. So he turned to the only other person he could trust right now, Sykkuno.

“Hey buddy.”

“Oh hey corpse, whats goin on?” It made corpse smile to hear that at least sykkuno was still his normal cheerie self.

“I need a favor, I think y/n is having another episode butbut she wont answer my calls so I was wondering if you could try and call her for me. See if she answers.”

“Yeah of course man, but why dont you just go over there?” Corpse sighs.

“Im going to but I dont want to push ya know. Its- this is a touchy thing.” Sykkuno hums in agreement before hanging up. Corpse paces back and forth in his livingroom till Sykkuno calls back.

“Hey Corpse”

“Did she answer?” Sykkuno sighs.

“Yeah and she doesnt sound like shes doing very well.Im actually really really worried Corpse.” Before Sykkuno could even finish his sentence Corspe was grabbing his car keys and hoodie.

“Im heading over there now, Ill text you later with and update. Thank you for calling her.”

“Of course, just keep me updated.” Corpse faster than he ever had , it was a mirical he didnt get pulled over.

Please be okay, please be okay. He repeated in his mind over and over as he run up to your apartment door. He entered quietly and quickly, not even bothering to take his shoes off. You entire apartment was dark and eerily quiet but as he neared your bedroom he could hear your quiet cries coming from the bathroom. He knocks on the door and tires to open it but it was locked.

“Go away.” You cried with broke Corpses heart.

“Baby girl, please open the door.”

“NO please just go away!”

Your POV

You felt out of control as you cried so you puched and yelp in pain. Corpse wastes no time kicking in the door.

“Im sorry baby Ill fix that I promise.” He says quickly as he kneels down beside you. You didnt know if it was the suddenness of the door kicking in or him beig here or both but you broken down into even more of a crying mess on your bathroom floor. Corpse pulls you into his chest and you try to fight him off. 

“No leave me alone, go away!” He only held you tighter and closer.

“Y/N I’m not going anywhere. We made a promise to eachother remember? We promised to never leave eachother remember? Me and you together. Im promise to fight next to you. So please just breath and let me help baby please.” Eventually you stopped fighting against him and clung to him like your life depended on it, and in this moment you were positive it did. You didnt know how much time passed between that moment and when Corpse finally stood, holding you bridalstyle as he carried you to the room. You laid both you you down, never letting you leave his hold. As you laid there Corpse left sof kisses around your face and whispered sweet loving things to you.

“You are so strong Y/n” He ran his fingers through your hair and kissed your forehead. “You are beautiful and smart” Corpse kisses your temple. “You are worth every single breath you take, every single atom and molecule in this universe that you take up you are worthy of.” He gently lifts you chin so you were looking up at him with your red, puffy eyes. “A wise girl once told me, that I know it gets hard and feels like the weight of the world is one your shoulders but theres two of us now and you dont have to take the weight on alone.” You sniffle and look up at him.

“Hey I said that.” Your voice was weak and horse from crying.

“Yes baby girl, you did, and I hope you knoe its true. I am right here.”

“I dont want to burden you, I know you have some much on your plate already I dont want to throw my shit on there too.” He shakes his head and lays his forehead on yours. 

“You arent burdening me, the only thing that ever puts more stress on my plate is when you push me away because I cant help you when you do that.” You sniffle reaching up and brush your finger tips across his cheek. 

“Im so sorry I put you through this.” Tears started to well up in your eyes but Corpse qucikly wipes under them and peppers your forehead in kisses.

“Hey hey hey none of that baby. Alls well now. Im here now.”

“Thank you my love. You are my rock.’

“And you are mine”

✨Tumblr Taglist✨

@fuji175 @corbins-kinda-smart @locallolli @namjoons-crabssss @sadness-babee @reddeserths @eccedxntesi @mayempress  @shinyyoonie @amirahhiddleston @gamerjisoo @trying-to-be-nice-here @jinexedanxrchist @rensaor @yoongis-cumsock @devilishducky97 @mintchip17 @redperson58 @kutiesammyboo @caswinchester2000 @hufflepuff-always-and-forever @thoughtfullydopedragon @neville-longbottomsimp @danny-devitowo @chocolatecloudwinnerhoagie @notmewrongb1tch @moneybagmara @alxcru158 @whatinthyworld @ihavecommitmentissues @mayempress @tanya-sonigra @themeaningofstupid @heavenly3308 @nicetomeetyouamamber  @chileansoul-englishheart

[she-who-fights-and-writes]

How to Write Fight Scenes

Almost every writer struggles with fight scenes in one way or another, even the experienced ones. There are more components to a fight scene than to any other scene, in my opinion.

A fight scene combines dialogue, action, pacing, and every single other element of writing into a deadly concoction that can be hell to write and even more hell to edit.

That’s why I’ve provided a helpful list of tips that you can use to make your fight scenes the best that they can possibly be!

1. If Your Fight Scene Doesn’t Take Place in a Hot Air Balloon, Then It Probably Should

Now, this is not in the literal sense.

Hear me out:

A fight scene in a field where the two armies/teams collide head-on? Boring. Overused. Underwhelming.

A fight scene in that same field with those same two armies but during an earthquake where the ground is opening up beneath them? New. Avant Garde. Keeps the reader on their toes.

It doesn’t literally have to take place in a hot air balloon; what I’m saying is that you should push the circumstances of the fight scene to make it new and interesting.

A personal example is when I had a fight scene that really just wasn’t working for me; it was dull, it dragged on, and it was a bitch to get past the writer’s block.

But then, instead of having the fight scene out in the open like how I’d originally intended it, I made a split-second decision to have it take place in a tunnel, and let me tell you, it was AWESOME.

The new setting made the battle a lot more visceral; it was tight and cramped, and the characters were tripping on bodies and slipping in blood as they were jostled around in a tight space.

Doesn’t that sound more interesting than fighting in an open field?

Having the surroundings inhibit or alter the fighting style is what can make a fight scene truly a masterpiece.

Even if your battle has to take place in an open field, you can add different elements like an earthquake, the enemies’ swords being on fire, or different battle strategies to make it super cool experience.

Here are some examples of well-set fight scenes where the surroundings are taken into account to make it all the more interesting:

Club Fight (John Wick, 2014)

Carnival Fight (Stranger Things, Season 3 Episode 7)

The Hound vs. Beric Dondarrion (Game of Thrones, Season 3 Episode 5)

Jason Bourne vs Desh Bouksani (The Bourne Ultimatum, 2007)

Clarice Starling vs Buffalo Bill (The Silence of the Lambs, 1991)

Church Fight (Kingsman: The Secret Service, 2014)

Staircase Fight (Atomic Blonde, 2017)

Kitchen Fight (Sleepless, 2017)

2. Brevity is the Soul of Wit (AKA, Keep Your Writing Simple)

The way you write during a fight scene is a great way to keep a good pace.

Your readers should be on the edge of their seats, dying to know if their favorite characters are going to live or die; they don’t want to read big words like “indubitably” and “scintillating.”

Feel free to reference my post about writing pain here.

Your word choice should be gritty. It should reflect the desperation of the fight.

Don’t use long, winding sentences and flowy paragraphs for fight scenes.

Short sentence fragments.

Paragraphs that barely last a line.

Scattered, grammar-breaking clauses that put the reader in the same frantic state of mind as the characters.

(You see what I did there?)

Also, fight scenes are the major scene where the “show don’t tell” rule applies. If you only had a choice to follow that rule on one specific occasion, it should be during the fight scenes. 

The readers should know how your characters are feeling just by their actions, not by you outwardly stating it.

Example:

The knife shredded the sleeve of her jacket, blood bursting forth and running down her arm. It surprised her at first and hurt like hell, but it didn’t take long for her to grow furious.

Vs.

The knife shredded the sleeve of her jacket, blood bursting forth and running down her arm. Her eyes widened as she clamped her hand over the wound, but as she watched the blood trickling through her fingers, her expression contorted into something monstrous.

See how much better the second one sounds? You can tell exactly what this character is feeling even though I didn’t explicitly tell you.

Something else that also helps fight scenes is literary devices.

Similes. Metaphors. Onomatopoeias. Hyperboles.

If you use these (sparingly, mind you!) it can really give your fight scene that kick that you’ve always wanted it to have.

Examples:

She rose to her feet as blood streamed down her body in a torrent, her eyes blazing like a thousand suns.

He turned to regard his opponent with clenched fists and a smile like razors.

She fought like a wolf trapped in the confines of a human skin.

The buildings crumbled as if made from silk and twine rather than metal and stone.

Be careful not to overuse them, though! If every other line has a literary device, it loses its punch!

3. Your Characters Shouldn’t Be Invincible

You shouldn’t be giving your characters the “invincible plot armor” treatment.

While all of the unnamed lackeys get swamped by the “unimaginable power” of the enemy, they shouldn’t be coming at your main characters any slower than they come at everyone else.

Your main characters should be having the shit kicked out of them.

There should be something about the fight that makes the readers think, “Wait a minute, they might not survive this.”

For example, let’s take Character A. Character A is strong, fast, and well-trained. The perfect soldier. He can hold his own in a fight.

However, what if his dominant hand is injured? How will he compensate for the injury?

The point of a battle is saying “On what circumstances will my characters be able to win” and then pushing it just a bit further into the grey area between “decisive victory” and “devastating defeat.”

A character who relies on speed getting their leg injured.

An expert cavalryman whose horse falls halfway through the battle.

A flying character grounded by a wing injury.

A magical character running out of potions and spells.

You want to push your character to their physical limits, take them out of their comfort zone and plop them right into the thick of it.

Only then will your fight really build tension, and tension is what every battle needs in order for the readers to not feel like their time has been wasted; if they know the characters are just going to win, then what’s the point?

Here are some fight scenes that do a good job of not knowing if the main characters are going to win:

The Battle of the Bastards (Game of Thrones, Season 6 Episode 9)

The Battle of Winterfell (Game of Thrones, Season 8 Episode 3) (Although the characters have undeniable plot armor, you don’t know if the battle itself is going to be won or not)

The Final Battle (Twilight: Breaking Dawn Part 2, 2012)

T’Challa vs Killmonger (Black Panther, 2018)

4.  Study Other Fight Scenes

Whether they be in books, TV shows, or movies, a bit of research never hurts! (Which is why I’ve been putting recommendations throughout this post)

Watching fight scenes helps you get an idea of what you should describe, and reading fight scenes gives you an idea of how to describe it.

Besides, it’s a pretty fun kind of research, too!

Thanks for reading, I hope this helped!

[loreswapgeorgehd]

Hello my old heart,how have you been?

Are you still there inside my chest?

Ask Box Status: Open

Last edit: [11.08.2021]

《 Intro 》

Hello! This is an ask/roleplay blog for the (mostly)fanon dsmp character GeorgeeeHD/GeorgeHD! essentially, HD is like the loreswapped counterpart god to c!GNF. I'll add my interpretation of the character below after my tags! This is not in any way an impersonation of CC!gnf. This is just a fun little rp blog based of an AU swap! Anons,Fanon characters,OCs, Au,Kinnies,Loreswap,and Canon characters are all welcome here! Admin is 20 years old,uses He/They. I also run a c!GNF [@apatheticdaydreamer ] blog and a C!Sapnap[@sapituscanpvp ] blog.

《Tags》

#prophecies [ from X ] -Ask tag ! If you want a specific tag just ask. For frequent interacters I'll probably come up with a custom tag!

#a little joke never hurt anyone....too severely- in character posts!

#ooc -what it says on the tin! Anytime I write out of character will be tagged with this.

#guardian of the very ground you stand on- Reply

#I could rearrange your atoms with a snap of my fingers. Would you like that?- Thread

#Aes- Images that are "HDCore"

#a lonely form of admiration- Character study tag. Anything akin to web weaving.

#Godly Scratchings- art of HD made in response to things!

#two men contemplating the moon-Art

# forgotten scriptures- headcanons or info on HD

#[Trigger] tw! - the trigger will be placed before the TW! For ex: #blood tw.

#a spring of ichor- Angst or anything remotely upsetting! Probably won't happen much here unless it's induced♡

Profile picture: @narcolepticelf [ also here ]

Feel free to shoot me an ask or DM about any questions or requests! You can send me trigger tags that way too! Also if you'd like private roleplays or descriptive ones all you need to do is ask! I don't bite :}!

HD/Aychdi is queer and uses any pronouns! Though primarily she's referred to with He/They. She likes Other pronouns as well but won't take kindly to It/Thing addresses.

The rest of this is me talking about HD ! Just some basic shit,not super focused on his background persay but on what he can do.

HD Is essentially the god of the overworld realm. Though that of course can be tweaked and changed so he's more of a minor god! They are the patron of sleep/dreams,and have a tendency to prefer night time. She cares deeply for passive mobs and wildlife. Mushrooms,Flowers,Mooshrooms/Cows,and cats are among some of Aychdis favorites. He enjoys playing minor pranks and messing with mortals,but he's very hands off. The most he's known for amongst mortals is helping to grow Crops during the spring when the days are longer and she has less work to do at night . Alot of her basis for powers come from this video

Here's a couple screenies of notable abilities n such! Just an idea dump .

Might have to click to see the whole things but !

Sidenote: the Mortal mentioned in these is a Loreswap c!Dream! [@loreswapdream ]

For more background info HD was close friends/companions/partners with the guardian of the end and the guardian of the nether [DreamXD and Sapnaps counter part god,EX(e) respectfully]. I figured since in Canon dreamxd is associated with the End,and Sapnap is associated with the Nether/fire it made sense Lmao. You can ask about EX as well! I don't plan on doing much for him though unless there's feedback! Anyways uhmm yeah that's it send asks if u want!

[stayarmytinyzenmoa-l]

Locked and Reloaded [Ch. 5]

Marvel AU

TW: Language, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Blood, Gun Violence, Implied Abusive Household

Genre: Action, Light Comedy, Angst

Pairing: NCT Dream x Reader

YN Pronouns: Female (She/Her)

(5/?) [First] | [Previous] | [Next]

[Main Masterlist] | [Locked and Reloaded Masterlist]

Word Count: 6.5K

Notes: It’s about time these members entered the story. I’m dropping this now instead of a Saturday upload because I’m getting my second dose of vaccine in about nine hours, and from how both of my parents reacted something tells me that I’m going to be incapacitated for the next two days, so I decided to finish this bad boy up now! Currently next on my list to work on is Infatuation, so I’ll see you in that update!

Disclaimer: Please remember that this is an AU and a work of fiction, obviously the idols mentioned/written about in this story would never partake in or condone these actions. I would never wish any of these actions to occur to the Idol(s) mentioned in the writings of these stories, nor do I wish any harm on them.

“That’s stupid,” you told your older brother. Baekhyun just laughed. You had just finished ranting to him how a majority of the premise of chemistry was ridiculous, being founded on one key theory that could be amended at any moment, something now set in stone or put to law. It was a theoretical science that clashed with the lawfulness of physics and the puzzle of biology. “Chemistry is literally the weakest link.”

“I don’t quite think so, songbird,” the nickname was sweet in his voice, it was one you had had for as long as you could remember. He leans against your desk and he points at the picture. “It’s just atomic theory.”

“Yeah, and it’s stupid. Imagine, all of this work, all seven hundred of these pages and countless other books could get proved incorrect if someone disproves it.”

“You read this entire textbook and that’s all you have to say about it?” Baekhyun raised his eyebrow and crossed his arms. “Wah, you’re so amazing and you don’t even know it,” he hugged your head to his stomach and you pushed him away.

“Ew, you’re so gross,” you wiped the sweat from your face. “At least shower before coming into my room! You’re disgusting when you use the gym.”

“And miss my darling sister? No way, that and I came to congratulate you!” He points at the certificate on your desk just under your coffee mug. “Not every day you win the science fair… again.”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks,” you put a textbook over it. He was right, but it was hardly an achievement for you at this point, it was an expectation.

“What did you do this year?” None of them even showed up, the only person there to help you with your project was Jeno, but he was always there whether you liked it or not.

“You don’t know?”

“I was at the conference, remember?”

“Oh, right,” you sighed. “It was just an observation on bees.”

“Whoa! Bees are great! They’re so helpful for pollination, for honey, and so much more!” Baekhyun smiles. “Hey, your birthday’s coming up, right? Fourteen? Oh god, oh no, my songbird? A teen? I don’t think I can handle this.”

“You’re overreacting! It’s not like I’m going to be any different. Plus, I’m already a teen.”

“Oh, (Y/N), you have no idea. Thirteen is the one year free trial before you start having to pay to be a teen. Once you turn fourteen, ugh, I don’t even know how to say this,” Baekhyun fake cries and wipes away the invisible tears. “It’ll be like you’re a whole different person.”

“Stop that! Why are you acting so weird?” You laughed and turned to him. Baekhyun crossed his arms over his chest and your smile dropped. You knew that look on his face better than anyone. “You’re leaving again, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I leave tonight,” he says.

“How long?”

“Maybe a week this time, dad wants to show me the properties over in Zone 8.”

“Seriously? What for?” The factories that far out from the city were nearly ghost factories, they just handled building the smaller removable parts of the weapons your father developed. You couldn’t think of a possible reason why Baekhyun would have to go out that far.

“I have no clue, maybe he just wants me to see the Byun system at a smaller scale,” Baekhyun sighs. “Will you be okay here?”

“Will I be okay here? Don’t make me laugh,” you slammed your textbook shut and stared at him. “She hates me.”

“Don’t say that.”

“She does! You’ve seen the way she talks to me when you’re not around, Baek, I genuinely think that woman wants to get rid of me.”

“She’s your mother.”

“No, she’s your mother.” You didn’t mean for it to come out as accusing as it did. But you could genuinely say that you never felt anything from her aside from the obvious disdain she must have held for you. But what could you do? You’d hate you too. If one day your husband showed up at your doorstep with a kid you didn’t recognize telling you to treat her as if she was your own, you’d despise that child’s existence. All you were was proof of infidelity, and your stepmother made that very clear. You were her daughter on paper alone, but in reality, you were nothing more than a freeloader. “I’m just the bastard kid from dad’s mistress.”

“Do not,” Baekhyun held a finger up and stared at you with an intensity you’ve never seen on his face before. Seriousness wasn’t something that Baekhyun often used, especially around you. “Do not ever reduce yourself to that. Do you understand? You are so much more than that and you can’t let anyone who says that to you bring you down, you cannot let that weigh on you. Who even told you that?”

“She did. Who else?”

“God…” Baekhyun looked away and huffed. He held his hand to his forehead and sighed. “Keep in touch with me, okay? Just one more year and I can take it to court.”

“Forget it, Baek,” you waved your hand. “It would never work. We have no proof.”

“Well,” Baekhyun pressed his lips together and placed a tape in front of you.

“A tape? Seriously?”

“Don’t hate on old tech, they’re still around for a reason. I have a walkman in my room, second drawer on my desk. Listen to it later, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” you placed the tape in your own drawer, out of sight and out of mind.

“Just wait for me, alright?”

“Yeah.”

“(Y/N), I’m serious.”

“I know.”

“I’ll be back, okay?”

“Okay, just go, dad’s probably waiting for you,” you opened your textbook again and stared at the passages on it. You had a really bad feeling about tonight, but you couldn’t quite place your finger on it.

“Love you, songbird.”

“I know.”

~

“Sungchan! Four o’clock!” You shouted towards the agent. Sungchan, moving a second too late was met with the spine of a book to his face, promptly knocking him out. “Aw, geez,” you shoved your bag under a table, hoping that it would be somewhat okay after the fight, and threw a metal tray, the circular object blocking one of the flying weapons from hitting Shotaro on his way to Sungchan.

“Thank you!” He shouts. He leans next to his best friend and tries to wake him up while the fight continued.

“I’ll try to keep you guys covered, but you might need to fill in for me eventually, Reaper’s not doing too good over there,” you stumbled over to the two and handed Shotaro one of the pillows from the couch. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, just knocked out, but I have to watch him just in case… you know.”

“I do, just make sure he’s fine.”

With Jeno’s sudden appearance the Sanctum became a new battleground. Ancient artifacts were being used left and right for battle, whether they were used correctly or not, and with incoherent shouts filling the previously calm room. Strange was doing his best to prevent anything potentially world-threatening from happening, the Sorcerer Supreme understanding the laws of the universe, as well as any of you did, while the Maverick worked to bring down Vulture. The surprise attack rendered them at an unfortunate disadvantage. Strange was more concerned with keeping the battle within the Sanctum than he was helping any of you out, which was entirely understandable.

“I got it!” Peter shoved back the bookcase that was about to fall on you.

“Thanks, Peter.”

“Just so you know I am so sorry I did not mean for any of this to happen I didn’t know.”

“Oh goodness, no hard feelings, Peter, it happens to the best of us,” you said to him. “There’s no way you could’ve known.”

“Thanks, (Y/N), that means a— Watch out!” He pushed you out of the way just as a shield lodged itself between you, you turned towards the source and saw Vulture, and you had to stop yourself from getting any more frustrated than you already are.

“Fucking hell,” you clapped your hands together and jogged in place. “Stretching before fights is good for you, Peter, don’t forget that,” you said to him. Then you saw Cap waving his hand. You pulled the shield from its spot and threw it back to him.

“Nice arm!”

“Don’t lose your shit!” You moved your head to the side just as a bullet whizzed past you. “And watch where you’re aiming!” You dodged another bullet as it ricocheted off of one of the metal artifacts of the Sanctum.

“I am,” Jaemin’s voice was steady despite the chaos. “Reaper!” Jaemin tossed one o the artifacts towards the other, particularly a sharp one, and Jeno drove it into the wall next to Vulture, just barely grazing the Follower. Vulture grabbed onto the back of Jeno’s neck, the razor claws on his hands emerging and sinking into the half-demon before Vulture slammed Jeno’s head through the wall.

“Urgh, I felt that,” you rubbed the back of your neck as the phantom pain shot through it. You quickly stepped back just as an eldritch whip snapped in front of you.

“Mr. Wong?!” Peter gasps.

“That one isn’t in our database,” Jaemin grabbed onto the whip as it went towards you again, ‘Wong’ staring at him with a slight confusion, to which Jaemin just tugged it away from the other’s hands, watching the concentrated energy dissipate.

“Well then add him later, dammit,” you charged towards Vulture but soon felt something wrap around your ankle. You looked at the portal next to your foot and the hand around it. “Ew! Oh my god!” You yanked it out of ‘Wong’s’ grasp and shot towards him, the bullets disappearing before they could get anywhere close. No wonder it was so fucking convenient, you hoped whoever the real Wong was and where he was currently wasn’t too horrible.

“We should name this guy,” Jaemin dodged the eldritch disk that nearly sliced his throat. “I’m thinking Frisbee.”

“Oh come on, let’s stay true to tradition and wait for Hyuck,” you pulled a sword from the suit of armor next to you and blocked the whip again. You turned the hilt in your hand and smiled. “Ooh, I like this. You know my ex used to be an expert fencer.”

“I almost forgot about that one,” Jaemin hums. “What’s with sleeping beauty over there?”

“Got hit in a face with a book.”

“Oh that’s good, one less bomb we have to worry about.”

“That’s rude,” you scolded him.

“Can someone help me over here?!” Jeno’s pissed off voice came from the office. He pushed himself up from the rubble and cracked his neck before his knuckles. “I’m going to kill this guy, fuck the Agreement.”

“Does the Agreement even apply this far out?” You asked. Jaemin pulled out his phone briefly. The Agreement was offered by the D98 Avengers, basically promising not to do any dimension altering things, but it was just a promise, nothing was set in stone and thus was lacking in any legality. It was a gentleman’s promise, so to say.

“Technically it doesn’t, D62 is far out of D98 bounds. And since none of the Avengers are here…” Jaemin let Jeno fill in the blanks himself.

“Good,” Jeno tapped his wrists together, a blood-red magic circle appearing between them.

“Wait, do you guys hear that?” You looked around while skillfully parrying evil Wong’s attacks.

“Hear what?” Shotaro was nursing the passed out Sungchan while blocking any projectiles that made their way towards him.

“It kind of sounds like screaming,” Jaemin furrowed his eyebrows.

“No, it sounds like… no, of all the members to send,” you groaned. Then the sound of doors crashing open accompanied the chaos that was the Sanctum while a familiar face ran in head first, literally, screaming his head off, and rams into Dr. Strange.

“I got this one, V! Don’t worry!” Chenle shouts.

“You idiot he’s on our side!” Jeno grabs a polearm from a nearby suit of armor and whacks it over Vulture’s head, the polearm breaking in half right after and really just pissing off the Follower more.

“Oh is he? Sorry!” Chenle detached himself from the sorcerer.

“Looks like we’ll be having a change in plans,” Strange murmured and disappeared from the room.

“Did the wizard just dip?!” You yelled.

“I think so!” Chenle yelled back, despite being right next to you.

“Why are you even here?!”

“We were talking to Fury when Jeno just fell into a sudden pool of blood! I followed your tracker here because I figured you’re in trouble. Be grateful!”

“I never said I wasn’t?!” You heard a pang next to you and turned to your side, a circular shield blocking your vision for only a brief moment before connecting with Other Wong’s abdomen.

“Thanks,” you nodded towards Steve.

“No problem,” he says. “But where’d that bullet come from?” Cap looks around the room. Jaemin rushes next to you and grabs something, pointing it upwards. Within a few moments, someone materializes next to him. A classic cloaking spell, of course, right when you needed it most.

“Monsieur,” her voice was hoarse.

“Lynx,” you saw him grimace while the woman drove a knife into Jaemin’s side and twisted it harshly. A loud groan left the man’s throat while you darted next to him and tackled the woman to the ground.

“I like your D62 version better!” You pressed your gun to her head and she threw you off before you could pull the trigger.

“Nat!?” Steve blocked another gunshot from her with his shield.

“Not Nat,” Bucky answers.

“Where have you been?”

“This thing’s still glowing,” Bucky held up the crystal.

“Give that to me!” Chenle appears next to them and grabs it. “You meaty idiots don’t know what to do with this.”

“Was that an insult?”

“Apperio!” Chenle ignored the Captain and chanted the charm, a magic circle appeared around the crystal. Following the ripple of two blue circles that expanded throughout the room, two more people appeared.

“There’s more of them?!” You shot Vulture in the leg. Before you were two other notorious members of the Elite. Arachnid, who you fought before, and Dead Shot, someone you were hoping not to run into in this dimension. “Someone get Parker out of here as soon as he touches Arachnid it’s over!” You shout.

“Oh please, I wouldn’t even try that. What good is this mission if any of us blow up the dimension while we’re at it,” Arachnid catches the flying dagger and flings it back towards Jaemin, who easily dodged it.

“We have orders to keep you alive, Vendetta, comply and the others will live,” Dead Shot spoke in his trademarked mechanical voice.

“Fuck that,” you pointed your gun at Arachnid and click. Click, click. “Well, this is awkward,” you chucked the magnum at Arachnid, the handle of the gun hitting the area between the mutant’s eyes and stunning him briefly, while Dead Shot released a flurry of bullets. You ran along the wall to dodge them, looking for something to shield yourself with now that Cap and Bucky were busy with Lynx, Jeno had Vulture busy, and Jaemin moved over to Arachnid so that Peter could handle Evil-Wong instead.

“Surrender or be forced to, Vendetta.”

“Well, shit,” you held a book in front of you while Dead Shot went through consecutive rounds.

“How could you not know a Follower was here?!” Jeno was pushed back next to you while deflecting Vulture’s attacks.

“How the hell was I supposed to know?! I didn’t even know that those three were here until a couple of minutes ago!”

“Are you kidding me?!”

“No, I’m not kidding you because if I was we wouldn’t be in this mess!”

“It has been thirty minutes! I let you and Jaemin go for thirty minutes and this happens!”

“In our defense,” Jaemin gets pushed back to the other side of you and clears his throat. “Peter brought us here.”

“I said I’m sorry!” Peter brushes off the embers on his suit. “Aw man, how am I going to explain this to Mr. Stark?”

“Explain? Have you been reporting us to him?!” You asked.

“Uh… no,” Peter’s phone goes off and he answers it. “Hi, Mr. Stark, there’s kind of a situation going on right now—”

“Tell them not to come here! If any of the other Followers show up it could tear the fabric of reality apart!” Chenle shouts. A magic circle appears under Peter’s phone and it short circuits. Chenle adjusts the watch around his wrist, a much larger magic circle appearing from it.

“Vocavi te ab umbris,” at the utterance of the words the shadows in the room gathered together to a much larger amalgamate. “Go, Vendetta, I’ll keep them handled.”

“Fuck,” you spotted your backpack, which was pushed up against the wall on the other side of the room.

“What now?” Jeno asks.

“Backpack.”

“What about it?”

“There’s something really important in there,” Jaemin sounded disappointed. “We could hole-in-one it, V.”

“We could,” you said. “But that risks shaking it up too much.

“Hot potato then?” Jeno offers.

“Who would start it?”

“The closest person is Shotaro, if he throws it far enough I could probably catch it,” Jeno says. “Pass it over to Jaemin.”

“Then I’ll pass it to you. But by then you need to be in that hallway,” Jaemin says.

“Got it, I can do that.”

“And if anything goes wrong?”

“Wing it.”

“We’re going to die in this dimension, aren’t we?” Jeno frowns.

“On the count of three, break,” Jaemin says, ignoring his best friend’s words. You hand Jeno the old sword, which he took without question. “One.”

“What do I need this for?”

“Well, I certainly don’t need it.”

“Two.”

“Wait, are we even on the same page?”

“I don’t know, are we?”

“Three!” Jaemin shoved you forward and you took off, dodging literally everything on your way to get out and probably get some more help.

“Shotaro! Pass me that backpack!” Jeno shouts over the gunshots. Shotaro perked up and grabbed the black bag, chucking it towards Jeno, who caught it easily. “Monsieur— Fuck, too far, Apollo! Pass this over to him!” Jeno tossed the backpack towards Chenle, the heavy bag slamming into the magician mid-spell.

“What the hell?!”

“Pass it here!” Jaemin knocked over Lynx and used her head the propel himself up and grab the backpack after Chenle threw it. He ran over towards you and threw it. Right as your hand grabbed the strap, it was yanked away from you.

“Fuck!” You looked back at who had it now, seeing your backpack in the hands of the last person who should have it. You were about the run over to him, but the bullet that landed too close for comfort reminded you that you had to leave now. “Arachnid has it!” You’d just have to put your trust into the three that were already here.

“Got it,” Jeno bashed his knee into Vulture’s head, finally incapacitating the Follower and switched targets. You turned around and ran into the hallway. You just had to call one of the other members to run over here with some extra materials. You hit the side of your phone, which only frizzed at the motion. Chenle must have jammed the signals to prevent more reinforcements from coming, great. You couldn’t run around forever, Dead Shot always hit his targets in the end, you continued down the hallway, not bothering to look back, but when you found yourself cornered against a hallway, you forced to figure out a solution. With the smell of smoke and the sounds of bullets hitting the ground— Wait a second. You looked down the hallway, bullets hitting metal and ricocheting towards you but never hitting any intended destination, there wasn’t even a bullet hole in sight, instead there were just empty shells on the ground. But in your analysis you failed to notice the stray bullet that was right in front of you. Then you saw someone’s closed fist in front of you.

“Did I get all of them?” He panted. He opened his hand and twelve bullets fell out of it.

“Oh my god, Mark, you’re just in time, I don’t remember you being this fast either,” you caught your breath and hugged the speedster, separating quickly. Mark pat down the smoke on his boots.

“I don’t think I’ve ever run that fast…” He stretches his back and kicks the bullet shells aside.

“How’d you even get here?”

“The sorcerer guy called Baekhyun and asked us to come right away. I had a feeling it wasn’t anything good so I came first, told them I’d scout the area. It’s a good thing I came, otherwise you’d look like Sponge-Bob…” He laughs awkwardly. “You’re at your quota, aren’t you?” He looks down at your feet. You followed his gaze and saw the rusted knife sticking out from it, then you noticed the bloody trail you left behind. You sighed and pulled the old thing out.

“Remind me to get a Tetanus shot.”

“You are at your quota,” he gasped.

“Can’t afford to possibly die right now,” you shook your head. “I thought since the dimension was far enough it’d get me some leeway, but I guess not,” you grimaced.

“Shit, it really is a good thing that I came just in time,” Mark looks over his shoulder. “Dead Shot should be on his way, you didn’t make it hard to find you.”

“Don’t smart-mouth me right now, Mark.”

“Right, yeah, sorry about that,” the speedster ruffled his blue hair and unzipped his jacket, pulling out a book from it. It was heavy, no doubt, leather-bound with metal embellishments around it. The book had lived through as many eons as it did dimensions. You had asked Mark to try to get it for you if he could, but nothing more than that. Better to leave him in blissful ignorance. “Look, I don’t have a lot of time to say this,” he says while he hands it to you.

“Just spit it out.”

“I was looking into that thing you asked me about and here, this is all I got,” he says. “Whatever you need it for it’d better be important, I almost got turned into a frog for it. The guy I got it from warned me not to read it though.”

“Why?”

“I dunno, something about corrupting the person who reads it.”

“Oh shit, I should have Jeno read it then.”

“True, you can’t corrupt a demon.”

“But then again he is only half.”

“Look, (Y/N), I only got you the book because you were so insistent on it. Just reassure me and tell me that you won’t do anything stupid with it.”

“I won’t, I won’t, I may be stupid but I’m not that stupid, Mark. When are the others coming?”

“I just gave them the signal to enter, they’ll be taking care of the Follower problem here in a bit. But you’re going to have to explain why you’re here to them, and I’m afraid that it might involve you revealing your identities this time.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Why else would you be in D62 being housed and paid by this dimension’s Avengers?”

“Fair enough—” you were cut off by the bullet grazing your ear and landing in the wall behind you. Another one rang out and Mark grimaced, holding his hand to his shoulder

“Argh! Come on!” He grunts. He puts a hand on your back and one behind your neck.

“Why?”

“Whiplash,” you blinked and suddenly found yourself back in the Avenger’s Compound.

“Mark, don’t you dare!”

“Sorry! Jeno’s orders! I’d rather a pissed off you than Jeno!”

“Mark, I swear if you zoom out of here—” but the speedster was already gone by the time you turned around. “Dammit!” You kicked the wall and winced immediately, you completely forgot that it was the same foot that had a knife driven through it earlier.

He was right, you’d reached your quota. There was a certain amount of times you were allowed to “die” until it would be too much, and you knew you’d be at this quota when your body would stop healing itself, it was getting ready for its original host to return. You just didn't think you’d reach it soon, and who knows until the number resets? It was always a varying number, and until it did you had to lay low. It was such a hassle that you always tried to avoid it, but coming to this dimension seemed to have expedited the whole thing. You heard a bag of chips drop behind you.

“(Y/N)? When did you get here?” Jisung stared at you while he picked up the bag.

“Mark.”

“Mark’s here? Where?” Jisung looks around.

“There was a complication at Dr. Strange’s place,” you limped towards him, he rushed over to you and reached for your hand to help you, but you tugged it away. “I’m fine.”

“Oh, okay,” Jisung gave you a little more space, but still walked next to you, sporting that easy-to-read concern. “Do they need help?”

“No. The Avengers are coming.”

“Oh… oh no,” Jisung caught onto why you were being short now. “Oh no, oh no, we won’t have a choice then.”

“No, we won’t,” you heaved the large book under your arm. Jisung looked at it but chose not to question you. “I’ll be in my room, I have a lot of thinking to do before we explain ourselves to the lapdogs so, if you need me, I’ll be in there,” Jisung says.

“Oi, (Y/N)!” Haechan held his hand up and Jisung furiously shook his head. Hyuck pressed on regardless. “Think you need this,” he waved the small box in his hand and you did a doubletake.

“Where did you get that?!” You rushed forward and snatched it out of his hands. “Be a bit more gentle with it!”

“Whoa! What’s got you pissed? Jeno drowned and dropped this. Changmin said to give it to you so I figured it’s important, damn.”

“The Avengers are coming.”

“Like… these Avengers?” He points around the room. “Or our Avengers.”

“The second one,” Jisung nods. “Right, (Y/N)?” You didn’t answer, you were already halfway to your room. You tossed the book on your bed and you opened the small box, pulling the vial of iridescent liquid from it. You twisted it open and downed its limited contents in one gulp. You felt all of your muscles relax at once and you sat on the bed. The wound on your foot closed quickly.

“Postponed, at least for now,” you stretched your arms. “But not permanently,” you placed the vial back in the box and you grabbed the book. As you held the two sides in your hands, ready to open it, you recalled Mark’s warning. Then you remembered the words of the Demon King himself.

“If you know what’s good for you, and what’s good for the world you reside in. Do not seek more than you already know about yourself.”

The times you spoke to Jeno’s father were limited, and your best friend liked it that way, preferred it actually, but the times you did talk they were always pleasant. Save for that warning. He knew something you didn’t, the both of them. You acquired this book without any of their knowledge. For years you just went with it, there’s a quota for death, there’s a reason why you can’t die, there’s a reason why you should avoid stepping near the Seraph, but now in this new universe, you had to know. There was something calling out to you in this dimension, it was very faint, and you didn’t truly notice it until you walked into the Sanctum.

You put the book away, sliding it under the bed.

Trust is mutual, if two very powerful beings are telling you to stay in your lane you probably should. You knew the bare minimum of your condition, so to say, you knew what you had to. Die too many times too close together and something else will come and reclaim its host, and all you knew about that entity was that it was some eldritch creature that took a millennia to finally contain, and for some reason, it had some affinity for you. That is where your knowledge stopped and your curiosity began. What could be so powerful that even the all-powerful Demon King wanted to keep it contained, and what did it have to do with you? Your answers were under your bed. But you risked too much by simply opening the book on its own. You hit your head lightly on the wall behind you. The liquid in the vial would extend your quota by at most three, you had to use them carefully. If you were going to attract a horrific monster, it would probably be best to not do it in a world that you didn’t belong to.

There was a knock at your door.

“What do you want, Renjun?”

The door opened slowly, and someone else stood at it.

“Is now a bad time?” Stark asks. You shook your head.

“It’s your building, come in,” you sighed. He walked in at your invitation, sitting at the table to the side.

“So this is what S.H.I.E.L.D. meant by living accommodations,” he laughs.

“What did you need, Mr. Stark?”

“Tony’s fine, thanks,” he says. “Sorry, it was eating away at me, I had to ask.”

“You wanna know about what you’re like in my dimension, right?”

“I’d appreciate it, but, something tells me I should come back later.”

“Oh, no, no, it’s fine.”

“Where are your friends?”

“Probably getting their asses kicked, but I’m here instead,” you shrugged. “Honestly, you’re not that different. Maybe a little less depressed, but that’s about it. For what it counts, to our knowledge, you aren’t a Follower. You work closely with the Seraph, if they found out then you would’ve been executed on spot, at the very least.”

“Oh yeah? Crazy leader or rational one?”

“Bit of both,” you leaned forward on your bed, kicking the book further under your bed. “Want to know anything else?”

“I was wondering if you could walk me through your Traveler of yours, is it anything like Time Travel?”

“Let’s call it two sides of the same coin.”

“How so? What do you use? Cosmic strings? Möbius strip?”

“Have you heard of the infinite cylinder theory?”

“Also known as Tipler?

“Yes!”

“Then yes, I’m aware.”

“How about Schrödinger’s Equation?”

“We’re talking hamiltonian operators?”

“Bingo. If you can manipulate those two concepts, you can get time travel, but it’s not perfect. So manipulate them differently, add a few more concepts because you have to take relativity into account, and bam. Dimensional Travel.”

“That easy?”

“Yeah, well, no, but in theory sure.”

“And you never went to high school?”

“What’s that got to do with it? If you need a degree to prove you’re right then you’re probably not the sharpest tool in the shed,” you shrug. Tony opened his mouth to retaliate, but couldn’t think of a good comeback to that. “Something tells me you want to ask me something more specific though, Peter let slip that he’s been sending you updates, so I’m sure you’re here for a different reason.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why help us?”

“Don’t really know how to answer that one, Tony,” you placed your ankle on your opposite knee and rolled out your ankle. “Usually we just take whichever job pays the most, but Changmin asked us personally to take this one, so how could we say no? The guy rarely ever asks us favors, and it was the least we could do.”

“That simple?”

“What? Did you want me to say that we wanted to meet you guys? I mean, it’s certainly a plus. Most of your team happen to be carbon copies of the same one who wants to kill us, so there’s that, we’re observing the ways you act, maybe it’ll help us in the future, maybe not. It’s like a two-way deal, you get your Traveler, and we get data.”

“Data,” Tony scoffs. “I can see why you’d come to that conclusion.”

“What can I say? It’s helpful. But, I can definitely say that we might be relieved of our duties soon, we’re technically here illegally, I’ll have you know,” you said to him. “We’re supposed to get official approval from the Secretary of Travel before jumping dimensions, but we’re not exactly law followers so we never did. But now that an official government team is on their way, hoo boy, my greatest rival is yet to come. Paperwork,” you made light of what would otherwise be a very very bad situation.

“I heard, so we get to meet the other Avengers.”

“Yup. And, let me tell you right now, they’re not the nicest people.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, just you wait until I tell you about them.”

~

The shadow amalgamate shattered into what it once was, scurrying back to their original positions, once Chenle had the wind knocked out of him by Lynx. He landed harshly on Jaemin, who then lost his balance and sent the two tumbling down to the first floor of the Sanctum.

“Sorry,” Chenle rolled off the top of Jaemin.

“It’s fine, call it even for the incident with the banshee.”

“Agreed, ugh, my head’s doing cartwheels…”

“Cartwheels? I feel like mine is being churned,” Jaemin holds his head. Chenle and Jaemin lay next to each other for a moment, trying to stop their spinning heads when someone stood over them.

“Are we bothering you, gentlemen?”

“Ugh, these fuckers are here,” Jaemin covered his eyes with his arms. “Tell me when they’re gone, Apollo.”

“That’s kind of mean,” Mark frowns. Jaemin moves his hand.

“Mark’s not a bad person, actually, Tony. I feel bad because I encouraged him to join the Avengers when they asked, but the other guys saw it as a complete betrayal. But he’s loyal, he doesn’t hate us and we don’t hate him, or at least I don’t.”

“Oh look! The traitor!” He lazily points at him. “Do you know how much shit we’ve been through since you left?”

“All the dishes we’ve had to wash?”

“V won’t even let us take your room because she thinks you’re coming back! You dumb traitor, what happened to our friendship bracelets, Mark?! Huh?!”

“You guys, don’t call me that, come on! Look I’m still wearing it!” Mark whines.

“Go away! You left us for your cooler friends who can legally blow things up, go! Go have fun with them!” Chenle points an accusing finger towards the speedster.

“Just leave them there,” Mark whispers.

“We’re looking for Strange,” a deeper voice says.

“Oh my god, is that Wong Yukhei?” Jaemin asks, his blurred vision not helping him at all. “You know, Vendetta has a cardboard cutout of you, I think she talks to it sometimes,” he laughs, his words slightly slurred as a result of the head damage received when he fell on the hard floors in the first place.

“Flattered,” Yukhei responds.

“Wong Yukhei, decorated soldier from the order of war and the first in the super-soldier experiments. Actually not a bad guy, but feels the need to flex his bravado every now and then because of the team he’s on, and honestly, I kind of relate to that.”

“The hatless wizard is somewhere upstairs,” Chenle points up and lets his arm drop to his side. “We’d help, but you guys look like one big ugly walrus right now.” Jaemin starts cracking up and the two high five.

“Do we have to work with them?” Another voice snapped.

“Li Yongqin, Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul, Lee Youngheum, he has too many names to remember so people usually just call him Ten. He was a perfect student in the military academies, which I’m guessing where his nickname comes from. But he’s pretty impatient, rather ill-tempered from my experience."

“We don’t have a choice,” a more suave on this time.

“Ooh, Lee Taemin. He's an interesting one, Tony. We’re actually pretty close, or used to be at least. He’s very good at what he does, he has years of experience under his belt, but it’s pretty scary. He’s probably done his research by now, be careful, he knows you better than you know yourself. Don’t argue.”

“Gentlemen, let’s end this, we have clearance from the Seraph to exterminate the Followers,” a more powerful one.

“Oh, oh, Lee Taeyong! He’s great. I’ve seen him work a couple of times, I think he’s shot me in the head before. Don’t ask. I have a great deal of respect for him, but he’s kind of anti-social, not easy to get along with him, but I think it’s all miscommunication in the end. I think if we really got to know each other we’d hit it off, but otherwise, I think I’m just a person with a bounty on her head in his eyes.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Jaemin pushed himself up, his eyes finally focusing. “Exterminate? Yeah, you guys do that, but let the Maverick leave first, we don’t want to get caught up in your deathmatch again,” Jaemin hits the side of his head a few times.

“Where’s the Vendetta?”

“Not here! She left because Reaper was being a little bitch!” Jaemin laughs again and Chenle joins him.

“We’re wasting our time here with these idiots,” another person says. Chenle squints his eyes to make out the figure.

“Now there’s Kim Jongin, he’s one of the people who started the Avengers project and got them all together. He’s an indispensable member, in my opinion. But when you’re in a team with that many star-studded members who are constantly in the public eye, it’s easy to get lost in the lights. But he knows how to keep things according to itinerary.”

“Who are you again?” He asks. “I thought the Avengers only had six members,” he stifles back a laugh.

“Dude that’s low!” Jaemin cackles. Mark swallows down a laugh when Taemin looks over at him, both of them trying to be respectful to their teammate.

“I know that’s why I said it!” Chenle hits his teammate’s arm and Jaemin winces, but the two continue in their little circus.

“Forget them, let’s just go,” Jongin. The team ascends the steps.

“Enter, the Avengers,” Baekhyun smiles.

“And finally there’s their leader. Byun Baekhyun— yes, he’s my older brother, no we don’t talk, and I don’t think he even knows I’m alive. He’s similar to you in some aspects, he pays for all of their shit. But he’s manipulative. He knows how to get into your head. Be careful with him.”

General Tag List: @vickylamore​ @yeongwvnhi​​ @mizzdivagirl7-blog​​ @sehunnies-hunnie96​​ @roses09020617​​ @bat-shark-repellant​​ @cloudreads​​ @awesomei @raeincitizen​​ @here-aeth​​

Locked and Reloaded: @leesalts​​ @lublyrecs​​ @beefchippp​​ @hiqhkey​​ @tyuningkai​​ @p-mini​​ @ellie-idk-anymore​​ @mischiefmakerliesmith5​​ @gaiyofanfiction​​ @lucyinthesunshinee​​

If you want to be added to either tag list just send me a reply to this post, and ask, or a DM and I’ll add you as soon as possible!

[gayenerd]

These are “outtakes” from Billie Joe’s 2010 Out Magazine interview. The link is still up, but for some reason they took out his answers about masculinity and femininity????? And those are obviously the most interesting answers! Anyway, here’s the whole thing I had saved in a doc

March 19, 2010

Billie Joe Armstrong Tells All

Photo: Kurt Iswarienko

Our April Broadway issue features Green Day's front man Billie Joe Armstrong chatting about music, politics, and the new musical, <i>American Idiot,</i> based on the band's last two albums. The writer of the piece (and former Popnography editor) Shana Naomi Krochmal filed the following exclusive extras from her interview with Armstrong that didn't make it into the piece. In them, Billie Joe touches on masculinity, his queer influences, and meeting Lady Gaga:

ON MASCULINITY:

Out: Is masculinity important to you?

Billie Joe Armstrong: I think it can come in handy, if it’s used the right way.

What’s the right way?

I think you learn a lot from Little League baseball. Like how to be a good team player, what do you do in situations when you’re at bat and it’s just you and another person. When you lose, how do you deal with losing? When you win, are you a good winner? And a graceful winner? How do you contribute to a team situation selflessly? I think there’s a lot of leadership skills in that. I don’t know if that’s masculinity or just good leadership or just life lessons. I just used Little League baseball because it’s male dominated.

Do your kids play?

They did. My oldest is done now, and my youngest one does. It was a real good bonding experience. I think masculinity is a lot more feminine than people give it credit for. Or it can be. Jim Morrison seemed very masculine to me, but also completely feminine at the same time. That balance in between -- and it’s not those morons on the bus in Borat. That’s not masculinity, that’s insecurity at its worse. Masculinity is something that women can have.

What is feminine about you?

I’m not sure. Let me think. It’s all about being a well rounded a person. I think being a singer is very feminine. Being a singer is a very feminine thing -- performing is definitely. Women have a lot more courage I think than men do, in a lot of ways -- if you think about what Madonna does or Lady Gaga or Beyonce. Women have a much easier time of reinventing themselves than I think men do. Hmm, I think -- a little bit of eyeliner. [Laughs] But I think there’s a big difference between vanity and femininity. I think that feminine side has served me a lot more than my masculine side has in a lot of ways.

ON PERFORMING AT THE GRAMMYS:

That was such a great night. There’s a whole thing where you’re worried about the awards part of it, and it can make you kind of irritable, kind of stressed out. But the great thing is that we had a chance to play with the cast, which has never really been done before.

ON THE MOST EMOTIONAL PARTS OF THE SHOW:

When Rebecca [Naomi Jones] sings “Letterbomb,” that really blows me away. The scene where Tunny’s on the gurneys and they’re singing “Before the Lobotomy.” And “Last Night on Earth” is an amazing scene with the couple doing this heroin dance. Tony [Vincent] is singing the song -- the first verse while they’re slamming smack -- and then the next verse is Mary coming out with a baby that she’s had with a guy who turns out to be a loser father. I get chills thinking about it right now. The juxtaposition between the two scenes is like -- wow.

ON WRITING AN ORIGINAL MUSICAL:

I’d definitely be interested in it. I think we’re in a really rare situation where this is gaining momentum. I don’t want to screw it up by working on something else. I’d love to do something with Michael [Mayer]. I’ve always wanted to see what it would be like to score a film -- but this, this is even more special, I think.

ON KNOWING TOO MUCH:

When you start getting into politics, what I’ve realized is that if it seems to be black and white, it’s shooting off into so many different directions. You can’t really keep up with what’s happening in the House of Representatives. Things like Hurricane Katrina, Haiti, troops in Afghanistan, financial crisis -- even Tiger Woods. It seems to be one thing after the next.

ON HIS QUEER INFLUENCES:

My uncle. There were different punk singers, from a guy named Cretin Chaos in Social Unrest to guys like Morrissey. And also guys that would genderbend a little, like Bowie, or Mike Ness from Social Distortion wearing makeup. I’ve always liked music that was non-gender specific, like the Replacements song called “Androgynous.” It was just always those little things or people that were willing to make you think, whoa, that’s not what I’m hearing on the radio these days.

ON MEETING LADY GAGA AT THE MTV VIDEO MUSIC AWARDS:

She had this outfit on -- she had so much shit on her when she walked by! She couldn’t move her arm because she was going on to do her performance, and it was like shaking hands with someone in a cast. She had this handler that was like, “Don’t touch the costume! Don’t touch the costume!” She said something about how she loved Dookie so much she used to lick the pages. I thought it was really cool. She’s influencing a lot of young people, and she’s doing it in a way that’s provocative. And a lot of people don’t realize that she’s an artist, and she’s been one for a really long time. She’s taking something that Bowie or Madonna did and taking it a step further.

ON WHAT IT MEANS TO BE “PUNK ROCK”:

That’s like a 10 part answer. I think of it as something that you need to have of your own. For me it’s about community. I think it’s kind of spiritual in its own way, because people fight over it so much and the meaning of it. It’s a sense of self-discovery. But also a new set of ideas and a new poetry, a new music that you discover that you notice that no one else is really into, or goes against what other people are normally into. It’s like you’re free to be an individual and taking on new ideas and challenging old ideas. I think it has a lot to do with burning down the establishment to create something new. But at the same time, you find relationships within that too. It’s something that’s supposed to empower you. It’s about starting something new. Part of the problem with a lot of punk rock is that people believe that it’s supposed to be one thing. Everything for me starts off with punk rock when I’m writing songs -- it’s almost like I’m stripped down to the bare bones of music again. It’s kind of in my DNA in this point.

ON HIS WIFE, ADRIENNE:

She’s great. She’s beautiful. Without her, I don’t know what I’d do. She empowers me to challenge myself in a lot of ways. She inspired the song “American Idiot” by playing me this Midnight Oil song that she really loved. She runs a store called Atomic Garden, all about sustainable living. She’s really active in NRDC, politically. Sometimes I think she’s a hell of a lot more interesting and a cooler person than I am.

ON HIS “MISERABLE” HIGH SCHOOL EXPERIENCE:

Academically you have to completely re-figure out how to prioritize your life. And suddenly you feel like the whole fucking world is against you because they’re prioritizing for you. And it’s forced on you. And if you don’t get it at that age, if you don’t catch it -- that’s what happened to me, I didn’t prioritize anything. I just got to a breaking point where it was like, by my later high school years, “You’re all full of shit anyway. Everyone’s full of shit. I know what I’m doing, and fuck school, and fuck schoolwork, and I’m not going to go to fucking college anyway, and I’m gonna play in a rock band, and you’re all gonna be sorry.” You get vengeful -- it’s a natural instinct, all those hormones going and shit.

ON BEING HAPPIER AT AGE 38:

I kind of feel like things are getting better. It goes in stages. I loved my early twenties. I hated my late twenties. I was a drunk. I was trying to figure out how to be a father, a husband, but I still wanted to live my life like a crazy punk rock rock star. You start noticing things about yourself. You have to change your health habits. But you don’t want to change. In your twenties, change is hitting you over the head whether you like it or not. Right when I got to about 30 I was like, thank God that’s over. But it gets complicated again.

[adhdeancas]

Sunset Sound: God is Dead?

I might start updating twice a week because I am writing this story at BREAKNECK speed. this is my favorite chapter so far. enjoy! (special thanks to @friedchickenangelwings once again for sticking with me and my incessant rambling about this story at all hours during holidays)

Fic Summary:  Everything is the same up to the end of 15x20. Chuck has been “defeated,” but it was all a farce. When Jack absorbed Chuck, Chuck easily took over the 3 year old’s body and acted as if he were defeated. Chuck!Jack then had the Rusty Nail placed in the barn where Dean died, and with Cas gone, Dean didn’t fight it. Chuck did reimagine Heaven, but he’s fed the same lie to them all: that everything is perfect, they are free, they are in real paradise. Except it’s all an illusion insulated by blue skies and endless horizons. Because, just like the Good Place, people make Heaven into Hell for each other. And there’s nothing Chuck loves more than the natural order of tragedy. He “let it slip” to Bobby that he brought Cas back, when he really left him to rot in the Empty. Dean has to find his best friend before it’s too late, and he has to keep a happy face for everyone else, because Chuck is watching. Always watching. 

“You know?” Dean shakes his head. “What’s going on?” 

Charlie leans back against the bar. “Well, after Ash and I found each other-” they give a cute little nod of the head in sync, dorks, “through the frankly shitty wifi they’ve got up here, we got to talking.” 

“Yeah, we realized some shit just didn’t add up. Like angel radio.” Ash spins around and ducks into his backroom, coming back with a laptop that’s way more advanced than it was last time. Dean raises his eyebrows at it. “Yeah, man, it’s sick, right? Charlie upgraded my systems, it’s bitchin’.” he reaches past Dean’s shoulder to give Charlie a fist bump (enthusiastically returned) and Dean backs off. 

“Yeah, bitchin’,” Dean repeats with a grin. He’s too dumb for these people. But he sure is glad they’re on his side.  “Well, hey, show me whatcha got.” 

Ash nods and taps his temple. He mutters to himself and pulls the system toward him while Dean watches anxiously. Ash pauses and looks at him. “Dude. Gimme a second? This setup is a lil’ more complicated than your blackberry.”

Dean snorts and gives him space, followed by Charlie. “Dude. you’ve been dead too long. Blackberrys haven’t existed for like… ten years.”

Ash gives him a genial middle finger and Dean grins. Charlie sits up on the pool table and Dean leans against it next to her. “Listen, Charlie, I gotta. I gotta say sorry, again, for…” He clears his throat. 

“Dying?” Charlie asks lightly.

“Uh, yeah.” 

“Not your fault, Dean.” She shrugs, and she actually manages to look cheerful. Damn, Dean loves this chick. She puts her hand on his shoulder and shakes her head. “Seriously, Dean. Let it go! I have! Seriously, I got to spend a few years with my high school girlfriend watching Lord of the Rings - she was a cheerleader - and sneaking out to design some fucking world-altering programs with Ash! Being dead, for me, it’s kinda amazing.” She smiles at him. “Guessing you don’t feel the same though, huh?” 

Dean swallows. He doesn’t know how much he wants to say about that, but being dead… it definitely sucks. And not in the good way. “Guess it just feels like I got more to do. Now, at least.” Now that Cas is… and heaven is…

Charlie looks like she doesn’t know what to say. Luckily, they’re interrupted before she has to think of something.

“Eyo! Sorry, amigos,” he leans over backwards to look at them. “Found it.” 

Charlie jumps off the table and grabs Dean’s hand. After a few steps she shoves him with her shoulder until he bumps into Ash’s back. Dean bounces off his soft form and clears his throat. “Sorry,” he mutters, throwing a death glare back at his surrogate sister. She flashes him a smug grin before focusing back on the computer screen. 

Ash recovers from getting jostled in time to point. “Yeah, so, we got word on Angel FM that this Jack kid is goin’ real Jim Jones over here.” He holds a finger up at several paragraphs as he’s flipping through them. “Preachin’ all kinda love and peace and hippy commune shit, but if somebody even questions it, he snaps. Naomi no-likey,” He smirks up at Dean and points to a group of cuss-words even Dean barely uses. “Rough translation.” 

Dean shakes his head. “That doesn’t sound like Jack.” Jack, especially Jack-with-a-soul, almost never got mad. I mean, he’d spent quality time with Lucifer without blowing up. The kid is level-headed to a fault. “Anything else?”

Ash frowns at him. “Y’know, going through angels’ personal phone calls is a lotta work.” 

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you’re a genius. Got anything else?” 

“Ash, what about the human rumors?” 

Ash looks at Charlie and they have a silent battle of wills, but Dean’s too impatient to see who wins. “What human rumors?” 

They pause and come to an agreement. “Fighting. People fighting. Couples. Families. Friends. All over, since the reboot. People are happy, but… it’s like earth. People can talk - people can fight.” 

“And?” Dean raises his eyebrows. There’s something they’re not telling him, and he thinks he knows what.

Ash raises them right back. He’s not about to divulge. “Hombre, this ain’t earth. People are supposed to be happy. If they ain’t… like a glitch in the matrix, y’know?

Dean grunts. “Anything else weird on the radio? Anything at all.” 

Ash’s sigh sounds labored. He leans back in his chair and wobbles, obviously sorting through all the enochian bullshit he’s read over the past… whenever. “Meh… I got… I don’t know, God was singing?” 

“Singing? Singing what?” Dean leans in, intent. If it was Taylor Swift, Beyonce, maybe Lizzo… 

Ash cocks an eyebrow. “Folk shit. Indie music.” 

That’s what Dean was afraid of. “Shit.”

“Why? What does that mean?” Charlie grabs onto his arm. 

Dean’s worst fears, that’s what. “It means that ain’t my kid. It’s Chuck.” 

“Who the hell is that?” Ash stands up as Dean walks away, cursing every stupid atom that had decided to make this dumb universe. Although, he guesses, that was Chuck’s purview too. 

“He’s god! God before the reboot I mean, the dick who up and left and only came back to screw me and Sam over. Fuck, I thought we’d finally gotten out from under his thumb! Now, apparently, he’s just using my kid for his meat-suit.” Dean takes a deep breath. This is bad. Worse than bad-bad. 

“So… what do we do? How do we nuke God?” Charlie asks the question like it’s normal, just another Saturday afternoon. 

Dean thumps his forehead onto the nearest table. Sure, sure, good, great. They were back to square fucking one. “I don’t fucking know,” 

“Alright, break it down. We need more mojo, right? How do we get more mojo?” 

“Well, angels are the next best thing, right? Maybe if we get them all together, they’re obviously not psyched about folk-God, or whatever,”

Ash points at her like she’s a genius. “Alright, yeah!” 

“Guys, there aren’t enough angels left to even try.” Dean feels hopeless. There’s nothing to do. They are literally out of options. There’s no hope. 

“Well, where can we get some more angels, then?” 

Dean stands up. “I know a place.” His heart feels like it’s being squeezed like a lemon. It’s a crazy idea. It’s practically impossible. And probably suicide. And he’s gotta find a way. “We gotta break open the Empty.” 

“The Empty?” Ash looks skeptical. Dean smirks. 

“Yeah, angel/demon afterlife. We punch our way in there and we’ve got juice for days, man.” He spreads his arms out, asks the question. 

Ash glances at Charlie then back at Dean. He sniffs and nods. “I’m in.” 

Dean looks to Charlie, who scoffs. “Duh. Of course. So what, we get in and say pretty please help us kill your dad?” 

A warm feeling spreads through Dean’s chest. “Well, we’ll have a little help on the inside. Cas.”

“Castiel? The angel dude?” 

“He’s dead?” Charlie’s voice has much more concern than Ash’s. Dean nods in response to both questions. It still makes him feel like he’s swallowing glass to think about it. “What happened?” 

Dean looks down at his boots. It’s only the scene that keeps playing on repeat behind his eyelids. Cas crying, holding onto his shoulder, telling him… telling him goodbye. Telling him that. “He saved me.” he starts, expression guarded. “He made a deal.” 

Ash grunts and nods, ready to drop it. Charlie stays quiet too, but she clearly wants to say something. Dean’s thankful for the drop. He doesn’t know what he’d say if they asked more. All he knows is that he needs Cas back. And he needs to talk to him. He needs to tell him that - that he wants him to just stay fucking put, damn it. That he needs to stop dying on him. And that he can’t just go and say something like that and then leave. It’s a bitch-ass move. 

“Yo, Deano?” 

Dean jerks his head back up. “Yeah. Sorry.” 

“How do we jail-break ‘em?” 

“Guessing we’re gonna need some serious magic shit. And since we can’t get to Rowena…” 

Ash breaks into a wide grin. “Pamela? I’ll give her a call.” 

Pamela is “busy,” so they have to wait for her to finish up with Jesse before she can come by. Dean has to hand it to her, it’s just about the most Pamela thing in the world to put off their realms-saving work for a heavenly hookup. Dean hangs around talking for a bit, filling his friends in on the latest on Earth, but he can’t concentrate. Ever since they’d decided the next thing is to get into the Empty, he can’t relax. He takes his beer and goes outside to wait, settling down on the Roadhouse’s front step to watch for Pamela.

After a bit, Charlie plops down next to him, a soft grin on her lips. He returns it half-heartedly before looking out across the clearing. She leans her head against his shoulder. A few minutes pass in comfortable silence before she turns into him. “So we gotta get into the Empty.” she sighs. Dean nods glumly. Just his fucking luck. Even heaven is ruined. But at least… at least they’ve got a shot. “And get Castiel.” 

Dean frowns and pulls away to look at her. Maybe it’s just his paranoia, but he hears some deeper meaning in her voice. “The guy died for me. I gotta,” he presses his lips together, hating himself for the half-lie he’s telling. Cas deserves better. Charlie just nods and watches, like she’s waiting for him to keep going. When he manages to talk again, his voice cracks. “We gotta get him, Charlie.” 

Charlie pulls him into a side hug. “I always said he was dreamy, that angel.” She points out. Dean snorts. He remembers. He’d blushed like an idiot after she said that the first time. 

“Yeah.” He mutters. Okay, so she knows. That he and Cas are… that Dean’s… good. Cas deserves recognition. He deserves someone to talk about him. For Dean to talk about him. But then Charlie just hasn’t spoken, and he feels like he needs some explanation. “I… there were other guys, before him.” He continues, clearing his throat. His mind wanders to Benny and Lee, Crowley. “But he’s… he’s it.” 

He risks a look at Charlie and she is just staring at him with a fond smile. She surges forward and kisses his cheek, squealing. “Yes, I fucking knew it, you bisexual dumbass! Bi, right?” 

Dean laughs. “Yeah, I guess- wait, you knew?” 

Charlie looks around, like Dean’s a dumbass it was so obvious. “Well, yeah, dude. Game recognize game.” She motions between the two of them and he scoffs. That’s right. Gaydar. That would’ve been nice to have for the last, oh, 12 years? “We’ll get him back.” 

Dean pulls Charlie in for another hug and leaves her tucked under his arm until a motorcycle pulls up and Pamela gets off, shaking her hair loose like a blind slow-motion model in a porno. She grins at the pair on the steps like she can see them. “Take a picture, you two. It’ll last longer.”

“How did you-”

She throws a hand out in dismissal. “Please, I can feel ogling from a mile away.” She pauses, laughing at the embarrassed silence Charlie and Dean are sporting. “Nah, I’m just joking. I do the hair-shake for a reason. I deserve a good stare. Hell, it’s half the reason I own this motorcycle.” She throws her helmet in the general direction of the motorcycle and greets her friends. Dean can’t decide whose hug is more flirty, his or Charlie’s. 

“Alright, bitches. Let’s séance some shit.” 

tag list: (ask or dm to be removed or added)

@dochunterwitch  @justonecitizenoftheearth @gnbrules @purpe @castiel-is-a-cat @alienapparatus