#i gotta get a new writing tag that ones so Boring

[derinwrites]

The Three Commandments

The thing about writing is this: you gotta start in medias res, to hook your readers with action immediately. But readers aren’t invested in people they know nothing about, so start with a framing scene that instead describes the characters and the stakes. But those scenes are boring, so cut straight to the action, after opening with a clever quip, but open in the style of the story, and try not to be too clever in the opener, it looks tacky. One shouldn’t use too many dialogue tags, it’s distracting; but you can use ‘said’ a lot, because ‘said’ is invisible, but don’t use ‘said’ too much because it’s boring and uninformative – make sure to vary your dialogue tags to be as descriptive as possible, except don’t do that because it’s distracting, and instead rely mostly on ‘said’ and only use others when you need them. But don’t use ‘said’ too often; you should avoid dialogue tags as much as you possibly can and indicate speakers through describing their reactions. But don’t do that, it’s distracting.

Having a viewpoint character describe themselves is amateurish, so avoid that. But also be sure to describe your viewpoint character so that the reader can picture them. And include a lot of introspection, so we can see their mindset, but don’t include too much introspection, because it’s boring and takes away from the action and really bogs down the story, but also remember to include plenty of introspection so your character doesn’t feel like a robot. And adverbs are great action descriptors; you should have a lot of them, but don’t use a lot of adverbs; they’re amateurish and bog down the story. And

The reason new writers are bombarded with so much outright contradictory writing advice is that these tips are conditional. It depends on your style, your genre, your audience, your level of skill, and what problems in your writing you’re trying to fix. Which is why, when I’m writing, I tend to focus on what I call my Three Commandments of Writing. These are the overall rules; before accepting any writing advice, I check whether it reinforces one of these rules or not. If not, I ditch it.

1: Thou Shalt Have Something To Say

What’s your book about?

I don’t mean, describe to me the plot. I mean, why should anybody read this? What’s its thesis? What’s its reason for existence, from the reader’s perspective? People write stories for all kinds of reasons, but things like ‘I just wanted to get it out of my head’ are meaningless from a reader perspective. The greatest piece of writing advice I ever received was you putting words on a page does not obligate anybody to read them. So why are the words there? What point are you trying to make?

The purpose of your story can vary wildly. Usually, you’ll be exploring some kind of thesis, especially if you write genre fiction. Curse Words, for example, is an exploration of self-perpetuating power structures and how aiming for short-term stability and safety can cause long-term problems, as well as the responsibilities of an agitator when seeking to do the necessary work of dismantling those power structures. Most of the things in Curse Words eventually fold back into exploring this question. Alternately, you might just have a really cool idea for a society or alien species or something and want to show it off (note: it can be VERY VERY HARD to carry a story on a ‘cool original concept’ by itself. You think your sky society where they fly above the clouds and have no rainfall and have to harvest water from the clouds below is a cool enough idea to carry a story: You’re almost certainly wrong. These cool concept stories work best when they are either very short, or working in conjunction with exploring a theme). You might be writing a mystery series where each story is a standalone mystery and the point is to present a puzzle and solve a fun mystery each book. Maybe you’re just here to make the reader laugh, and will throw in anything you can find that’ll act as framing for better jokes. In some genres, readers know exactly what they want and have gotten it a hundred times before and want that story again but with different character names – maybe you’re writing one of those. (These stories are popular in romance, pulp fantasy, some action genres, and rather a lot of types of fanfiction).

Whatever the main point of your story is, you should know it by the time you finish the first draft, because you simply cannot write the second draft if you don’t know what the point of the story is. (If you write web serials and are publishing the first draft, you’ll need to figure it out a lot faster.)

Once you know what the point of your story is, you can assess all writing decisions through this lens – does this help or hurt the point of my story?

2: Thou Shalt Respect Thy Reader’s Investment

Readers invest a lot in a story. Sometimes it’s money, if they bought your book, but even if your story is free, they invest time, attention, and emotional investment. The vast majority of your job is making that investment worth it. There are two factors to this – lowering the investment, and increasing the payoff. If you can lower your audience’s suspension of disbelief through consistent characterisation, realistic (for your genre – this may deviate from real realism) worldbuilding, and appropriately foreshadowing and forewarning any unexpected rules of your world. You can lower the amount of effort or attention your audience need to put into getting into your story by writing in a clear manner, using an entertaining tone, and relying on cultural touchpoints they understand already instead of pushing them in the deep end into a completely unfamiliar situation. The lower their initial investment, the easier it is to make the payoff worth it.

Two important notes here: one, not all audiences view investment in the same way. Your average reader views time as a major investment, but readers of long fiction (epic fantasies, web serials, et cetera) often view length as part of the payoff. Brandon Sanderson fans don’t grab his latest book and think “Uuuugh, why does it have to be so looong!” Similarly, some people like being thrown in the deep end and having to put a lot of work into figuring out what the fuck is going on with no onboarding. This is one of science fiction’s main tactics for forcibly immersing you in a future world. So the valuation of what counts as too much investment varies drastically between readers.

Two, it’s not always the best idea to minimise the necessary investment at all costs. Generally, engagement with art asks something of us, and that’s part of the appeal. Minimum-effort books do have their appeal and their place, in the same way that idle games or repetitive sitcoms have their appeal and their place, but the memorable stories, the ones that have staying power and provide real value, are the ones that ask something of the reader. If they’re not investing anything, they have no incentive to engage, and you’re just filling in time. This commandment does not exist to tell you to try to ask nothing of your audience – you should be asking something of your audience. It exists to tell you to respect that investment. Know what you’re asking of your audience, and make sure that the ask is less than the payoff.

The other way to respect the investment is of course to focus on a great payoff. Make those characters socially fascinating, make that sacrifice emotionally rending, make the answer to that mystery intellectually fulfilling. If you can make the investment worth it, they’ll enjoy your story. And if you consistently make their investment worth it, you build trust, and they’ll be willing to invest more next time, which means you can ask more of them and give them an even better payoff. Audience trust is a very precious currency and this is how you build it – be worth their time.

But how do you know what your audience does and doesn’t consider an onerous investment? And how do you know what kinds of payoff they’ll find rewarding? Easy – they self-sort. Part of your job is telling your audience what to expect from you as soon as you can, so that if it’s not for them, they’ll leave, and if it is, they’ll invest and appreciate the return. (“Oh but I want as many people reading my story as possible!” No, you don’t. If you want that, you can write paint-by-numbers common denominator mass appeal fic. What you want is the audience who will enjoy your story; everyone else is a waste of time, and is in fact, detrimental to your success, because if they don’t like your story then they’re likely to be bad marketing. You want these people to bounce off and leave before you disappoint them. Don’t try to trick them into staying around.) Your audience should know, very early on, what kind of an experience they’re in for, what the tone will be, the genre and character(s) they’re going to follow, that sort of thing. The first couple of chapters of Time to Orbit: Unknown, for example, are a micro-example of the sorts of mysteries that Aspen will be dealing with for most of the book, as well as a sample of their character voice, the way they approach problems, and enough of their background, world and behaviour for the reader to decide if this sort of story is for them. We also start the story with some mildly graphic medical stuff, enough physics for the reader to determine the ‘hardness’ of the scifi, and about the level of physical risk that Aspen will be putting themselves at for most of the book. This is all important information for a reader to have.

If you are mindful of the investment your readers are making, mindful of the value of the payoff, and honest with them about both from the start so that they can decide whether the story is for them, you can respect their investment and make sure they have a good time.

3: Thou Shalt Not Make Thy World Less Interesting

This one’s really about payoff, but it’s important enough to be its own commandment. It relates primarily to twists, reveals, worldbuilding, and killing off storylines or characters. One mistake that I see new writers make all the time is that they tank the engagement of their story by introducing a cool fun twist that seems so awesome in the moment and then… is a major letdown, because the implications make the world less interesting.

“It was all a dream” twists often fall into this trap. Contrary to popular opinion, I think these twists can be done extremely well. I’ve seen them done extremely well. The vast majority of the time, they’re very bad. They’re bad because they take an interesting world and make it boring. The same is true of poorly thought out, shocking character deaths – when you kill a character, you kill their potential, and if they’re a character worth killing in a high impact way then this is always a huge sacrifice on your part. Is it worth it? Will it make the story more interesting? Similarly, if your bad guy is going to get up and gloat ‘Aha, your quest was all planned by me, I was working in the shadows to get you to acquire the Mystery Object since I could not! You have fallen into my trap! Now give me the Mystery Object!’, is this a more interesting story than if the protagonist’s journey had actually been their own unmanipulated adventure? It makes your bad guy look clever and can be a cool twist, but does it mean that all those times your protagonist escaped the bad guy’s men by the skin of his teeth, he was being allowed to escape? Are they retroactively less interesting now?

Whether these twists work or not will depend on how you’ve constructed the rest of your story. Do they make your world more or less interesting?

If you have the audience’s trust, it’s permissible to make your world temporarily less interesting. You can kill off the cool guy with the awesome plan, or make it so that the Chosen One wasn’t actually the Chosen One, or even have the main character wake up and find out it was all a dream, and let the reader marinate in disappointment for a little while before you pick it up again and turn things around so that actually, that twist does lead to a more interesting story! But you have to pick it up again. Don’t leave them with the version that’s less interesting than the story you tanked for the twist. The general slop of interest must trend upward, and your sacrifices need to all lead into the more interesting world. Otherwise, your readers will be disappointed, and their experience will be tainted.

Whenever I’m looking at a new piece of writing advice, I view it through these three rules. Is this plot still delivering on the book’s purpose, or have I gone off the rails somewhere and just stared writing random stuff? Does making this character ‘more relateable’ help or hinder that goal? Does this argument with the protagonists’ mother tell the reader anything or lead to any useful payoff; is it respectful of their time? Will starting in medias res give the audience an accurate view of the story and help them decide whether to invest? Does this big twist that challenges all the assumptions we’ve made so far imply a world that is more or less interesting than the world previously implied?

Hopefully these can help you, too.

[hazbin-but-good]

another hazbin hotel rewrite/redesign?

yup! and i'm so serious about it that i made a whole blog for it. i'm a white queer ex-cath tran doing this as an art and writing exercise, so feedback from other creatives + jewish and/or racialized folks is especially welcome.

i'm putting this post and only this post in the main tags for visibility. also, not gonna link my main, but i do make my own original stuff, and i encourage fans and haters alike to do the same.

anyway, here's a mostly good-faith 1.7k-word essay on the original. i think it's pretty funny and brings up some less talked-about points. correct me on the facts, disagree with my opinions, and ask clarifying questions, but don't come at me with any piss-poor reading comprehension.

the hellaverse is garbage, and here's why

cw: strong language, stronger opinions, intersectional feminist critical discourse analysis

1. vivienne medrano, the person

medrano was born as a well-off white-passing latina (salvadoran-american) in bougieass frederick, maryland. while attending new york's top art school, she got popular on deviantart-tumblr-twitter by being a prolific multifandom fujoshi furry who's more into ornamental character design than storytelling. upon graduation, she leveraged her fanbase and industry connections to make the hazbin and helluva boss pilots, get helluva made for youtube, and get hazbin made for amazon prime.

like every woman online, she gets harassed for no good reason, and as a certified autist, i will defend her right to be dumb, weird, annoying, and bad with words. however, there are legit reasons to criticize her:

racism, misogyny, homophobia, fatphobia, some antisemitism, past transphobia, past ableism

shitty boss, bad friend

cowardly, vindictive, manipulative, thoughtless behavior

skeevy friends

sucks at taking criticism

in short, i think she desperately needs a PR person and someone to clean up her digital footprint.

2. medrano's art

incurious

inauthentic

noncommittal

creatively stagnant

overindulgent, and the indulgence isn't even fun

shallow and childish framed as complex and mature

bland and boring framed as shocking and subversive

to be clear, i'm at peace with the existence of suckass art like this; i just think the money, attention, and praise it gets are unearned and should go to more interesting works, of which there are infinite.

medrano's had the time, money, and social cache to grow as an artist, learn from the best, and take creative risks, but she hasn't. if she truly has nothing more to offer, she should let her collaborators take the wheel, but she doesn't do that either. instead, she keeps getting more and more resources to make the same baby bullshit, and that pisses me off. she could be the nicest person ever, and this fundamental arrogance would still make her art blow.

stop with the pointless guilt: liking medrano's work does not make you stupid or evil. however, if you stay in the kiddie pool of culture, if you refuse to engage with a diversity of art, if the hellaverse is your point of reference for anything media-related, you can't expect to have your opinions on art, media, or culture taken seriously. you have not earned a seat at the table. you gotta hit the books first.

i cannot emphasize enough how much incredible stuff is out there if you're willing to look further than what social media and streaming services put right in front of you. if you come away from this blog having learned about just one new artist or piece of art, i'll be a happy camper.

3. the hellaverse

a. empty and confused

hazbin and helluva's content and marketing has no clear target audience. the subjects are inappropiate for teens, but the execution is too childish for adults, and lemme tell you what i don't mean by that, first.

not inherently inappropriate for teens:

sex and sexuality

violence, including when it intersects with the above

politics and religion

not inherently childish:

animation (any style)

comedy

episodic writing and/or loose continuity

young characters

fun, happiness, optimism, the power of friendship, cuteness, tenderness, sincerity, etc.

what i mean is that these shows are literally about adult characters who fuck, smoke, drink, do drugs, go clubbing, work full-time, manage their own finances, and deal with stuff like bureaucracy, sexual violence, domestic abuse, marriage, divorce, late adoption, and family estrangement.

however, none of these "adult" things are given enough specificity to create drama or comedy. it's all too stock, vague, flat, weirdly sanitized, and thus utterly banal—pure aesthetics on top of bad saturday morning cartoons. it's exactly what i'd expect from a sheltered disney kid who needs to log off and get into their local gay scene ASAP so their only contact with things like poverty, policing, addiction, and sex work stops being facile movies and TV.

if the shows were aware of this and played with it, that could be amazing, but they're not. they give you the mickey mouse version of the world with a straight face and then play looney tunes sound effects to try to make you laugh and sad_violin.mp3 to try to make you cry. now that's funny.

b. old and tired

let's make like americans and pretend that the rest of the world doesn't exist. even within the confines of the USA, home of the hays code, the red scare, and reaganite propaganda, this neopuritan fascist state ruled by 1000 megachurches in a trenchcoat, the indie/underground animation scene has been doing crazier shit for decades. anti-war films in the 60's, bakshi movies in the 70's, the simpsons shorts and r-rated movies in the 80's, adult swim and MTV in the 90's, flash/newgrounds/youtube in the 00's, streaming in the 2010's—so what are we doing in the 2020's with this wet white rice drowned in expired ketchup? i feel crazy making this point because it's obvious if you've watched these things, but if you haven't, you're gonna be like "well, there's gotta be something new here". no! there isn't! in the words of jimmy "the scot" jordan, nothing, nothing, NOTHING!

c. ideological purgatory

actually, there is one thing in these shows i've never seen before: the presbysterianism. shout out some interesting or at least intentional presbysterian art in the comments, because the way these ideas are presented here is not compelling. it just makes the rainbow neoliberalism even more confusing and contradictory.

i guess the big presbysterian things are protestanism, calvinism, and, uh, big church government? presbysterians, get your shit together. get your brand down. catholics have BDSM and vampires, evangelicals have TV and corporatism; what do you have? celtic crosses? no wonder medrano has such uninspired ideas on divinity.

d. queer deficiency

when i look at a piece of art, i ask myself: "what does this give me that i can't get from the hunchback of notre dame (1996)?" if the answer is as limp as "uhh, gay people, i guess", i can probably look for my gay shit elsewhere and rewatch the hunchback of notre dame (1996) in the meantime.

but let's say that you have no standards. you've been waiting for ages for a show about gays by the gays for the gays, and by god you're gonna get it. this is it! here we go! time for some

generic twink obliteration

male sexuality as aggression and dominance displays

WLW (sex and chemistry not included)

a couple straight femdoms

and the stalest sex jokes known to man

...yeah, it's not very queer. and by "queer", i mean "questioning or subverting gender norms (including sexual roles) within a given cultural context regardless of creator identity and intent". i'm not a queer studies scholar so LMK if there's a more specific term for this, but whatever you call it, it's not in the hellaverse much.

there's not even any transness, literal or metaphorical, just ancient drag jokes. i guess the writers thought we would've been too controversial. so much for an indie animation studio that prides itself in the diversity of its staff both above and below the line, bakshi-style. i wonder how medrano, a bisexual woman, would've felt if told that a lesbian main couple in hazbin would be "too controversial".

4. spindlehorse and the vivziepop brand

spindlehorse toons underpays its overworked staff and keeps outsourcing more and more labor to even more overworked freelancers overseas to cut costs. a rainbow sweatshop is still a sweatshop, and just because these practices may be "industry standard" doesn't make them any more ethical.

the studio has also been repeatedly accused by current and former employees and contractors of creating a hostile and abusive workplace. AFAIK, it still has no dedicated HR person, and victims are too afraid of retaliation like blacklisting and online harassment to speak out.

this is exactly the stuff that unions exist to prevent. as i'm writing this, the IATSE (the parent union of TAG, which is the parent union of all US animation unions) is negotiating with entertainment industry executives for better working conditions, and if the execs fuck around like last year, it's strike time again. so watch this space, voice your support, and don't cross any picket lines.

i hope spindlehorse unionizes, but until then and for these reasons, i don't think you should give money to the company.

first of all, all content on amazon-owned platforms is ok to pirate, and all youtube ads are ok to block. everyone involved in making the episodes has (or should have) been paid upfront, so you're not taking the bread out of anyone's mouth.

next, let's look at the succulent offerings of the official vivziepop merch shop:

$10 pins and keychains

$15 sticker packs

$20 mugs and acrylic cutouts

$25 shirts

$30 metal cards (not even tarot)

$40 lounge pants

$50 mini backpacks

random $80 skateboard deck

forgive my latin americanness, but this is all stuff you can get made by a local metalsmith, print/sublimation shop, or just crafty people in your life. it's cheaper, customizable, and better for the environment to skip all the shipping and packaging. also, not painting your own skateboard is poser shit.

the hazbin website also has $15 pins, one $20 keychain, and $6 trading card packs. people are weird about trading cards, so if for some reason you wanna gamble for a mass-produced bit of cardboard, plastic, and tinfoil, at least bulk-order for all the vivziepoppers in your area so it's less of a huge waste. better yet, trace the designs and make infinite bootlegs.

at the end of the day, buying merch is not activism. your bulk order of trading cards will not save any wage slaves from getting evicted from their overpriced studio apartments. however, the shop links you to all the credited artists/designers, and more of your bucks will actually reach them if you buy their designs directly, then turn them into body pillows or life-sized bronze statues or whatever the fuck.

go through the credits of any episode of helluva or hazbin, and you'll find even more creatives you might wanna support. get jinkx monsoon's albums on CD. subscribe to actually good artist, animator, and composer gooseworx. lots of voice actors now have patreon, cameo, or self-hosted pages where you can write better lines for their characters and have them read it. these things may not look as shiny as Official Merch™, but we all need less plastic shit and more culture anyway.

[ashthewaterghoul]

Can I get some slightly spicy Mountain/Rain? 🙏🏻

I don't write a lot of spicy stuff so I hope this is okay. It was going to be a few hundred word drabble, but in true Ash fashion, I yapped.

"Good" - A Mountain/Rain One Shot

“Your little innocence act doesn’t work on me, Rain.” Mountain said, his voice finding residence low his throat.     “S- sorry, sir, I didn’t-“     “Didn’t what? Didn’t meant to drag yourself to my kit and start playing? I thought you were going to be good for me?” Mountain taunted, standing behind Rain and encasing him in his shadow.     “No! I am! I am good! Please, I’ll show you-“ Rain went to spin around, but Mountain’s hand locked firmly around his throat and stopped him from moving.

Words: 1452

Tags: Praise k!nk, like a smidge of choking, dom!Mountain, sub!Rain, instrument practice with a happy ending, spoiler it's fade to black bc I'm not up for writing full blown scenes yet but there is plenty of spice to make up for that (I hope), ends on a really corny joke so I'm just going to apologise for that now💀

For the love of Satan, MDNI

~~~

    Water and Earth got along like a house on fire. Water nourished the plants and the Earth carved out spaces for rivers and lakes and ponds. It was a glorious relationship in which they helped each other out.

    The same can be said Mountain and Rain.

    Not only did their Elements call to each other, but Mountain was the one who nutured for Rain after his summoning. Not only was if from necessity, but because Mountain’s stomach dropped at the skinny Water Ghoul shivering in the summoning circle. It ending up a happy coincidence that the two both were in the rhythm section of the Ghost project, and Rain’s spot on stage being one right next to Mountain. They were each other’s everything and often made their appreciation known to each other.

    But right now? Rain was bored.

    In fact, he was starfished out on the music room floor, his bass laying somewhere near to him. He’d been staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours as the little squeaks of Mountain’s tuning keys filled the room, where music once had.

    They often had little practice sessions with just the two of them. It was important that drum and bass locked in with each other so their music sounded the best it could. And they were never going to say ‘no’ to a bit of alone time.

    They were just going through the songs from Impera but they weren’t even halfway through Spillways before Mountain stopped, saying something was wrong with his kit. And so Rain sat down to wait. Then he slumped. Then he started lying down.

Read below the cut or on ao3

    After Satan-fuck knows how long, the Earth Ghoul put his hardware down and sighed.

    “Done?” Rain asked, lifting his head and, yes, maybe he had his fingers crossed.

    “Yeah, I gotta go to the bathroom though.” Mountain replied as he stood.

    Rain groaned and flopped around so he was face-first into the ground.

    “So dramatic.” Mountain muttered, his eye-roll practically audible.

    “Fuck you.” Rain said, albeit muffled by the carpet.

    “Maybe later.” Mountain said.

    Rain was about to say something else but his voice was cut off into a groan as Mountain threaded his fingers into Rain’s waves and pulled his head up by his hair.

     “Is this the game we’re playing?” He whispered, low and almost threatening into Rain’s ear, “Because I can take as long as I want in the bathroom. Hell, I could go to the Clergy ones on the other side of the building. After that, maybe I want to try a new layout with my kit. Maybe my drums will fall out of their tuning again as I move them around and I’ll have to fuss with them all over again. So, I’ll ask you again, are we playing this game, Lilypad?”

    Rain’s brain was short-circuiting, and he mentally cursed himself for falling this easily. The two usually loved to fight over who (quite literally) came out on top and earn the submission of the other. But all Rain’s brain could think of right now was wanting to be Mount’s good boy.

    Rain shook his head as much as the strain on his neck would allow, biting back whimpers at the hold Mountain had on his scalp.

    “That won’t do, baby. Words. Let me hear my Syren’s gorgeous voice.” Mountain said in that same husky whisper.

    “No, sir.” Rain replied shakily.

    “Good.” Mountain said, purposefully avoiding the full phrase and gently lowering Rain’s head back down, “Wait in this room until I get back.”

    Rain had no chance to respond before Mountain was out the room. He groaned again as he curled in on himself, internally cursing how responsive his body was to Mount’s brief action. He also cursed himself for wearing the tightest pair of jeans he owned because now they were even tighter.

    He did his best not to palm his bulge, Mountain may not have said it but he knew there was the extra demand of “No touching”. It was always there and Rain didn’t even want to try so much as ghosting his pinky over his zipper. Somehow, Mountain always knew.

    What he didn’t say, however, was that Rain couldn’t move. So, he sat up and groaned as his back ached. There may be a carpet, but it was thinner than Rain’s patience and rough stone floors laid beneath it. As Rain stood, he caught sight of Mountain’s drum stool. He sat down on it and gave a few obligatory spins before facing the kit properly.

Well, Rain was still bored and now he was frustrated too. Mountain had taught Rain some drums over the years and so the Water Ghoul’s deft fingers reached out for the two sticks and started playing the simple grooves, fills and the like that he knew. He lost his shirt at one point and didn’t notice Mountain watching in the doorway.

    “Having fun?” The Earth Ghoul shouted over the noise.

    Rain froze like a deer in headlights and he scurried to put the sticks down where Mountain had left them. The Earth Ghoul chuckled and his unreadable expression made Rain shiver. Rain put his hands in his lap, carefully avoiding where he was still painfully hard, somehow even harder than he was before, and fixed his eyes firmly to the ground.

    “Your little innocence act doesn’t work on me, Rain.” Mountain said, his voice finding residence low his throat.

    “S- sorry, sir, I didn’t-“

    “Didn’t what? Didn’t meant to drag yourself to my kit and start playing? I thought you were going to be good for me?” Mountain taunted, standing behind Rain and encasing him in his shadow.

    “No! I am! I am good! Please, I’ll show you-“ Rain went to spin around, but Mountain’s hand locked firmly around his throat and stopped him from moving.

    Mountain’s fingers wriggled and adjusted slightly to make sure he had a safe hold on Rain’s gorgeous neck. Ghouls may be a lot stronger than humans, but there was still a right and wrong way to do this. And when Rain gave his signal of two taps of his tail against the ground, telling Mountain he was green, the Earth Ghoul got right back into it.

    Not loosening the hold Mountain had on Rain’s throat, he sank to his knees behind Rain and put his mouth right by the shell of the Water Ghoul’s ear, “You think you’re so good? I’ll need you to prove it.”

    “Please.” Rain got out, quite literally choked off, “Wanna be so good. Your good boy.”

    “One good thing, I suppose, is you’re already prepared for me.” Mountain said, running a hand along Rain’s dick print. Rain could feel his smirk as the Earth Ghoul squeezed Rain’s neck and cock at the same time.

    He wanted to moan or say something, but the hand on his throat simply forbade it. Rain was starting to see sparkles and gave one harsh tap with his tail to tell Mountain he needed to let go, and the Earth Ghoul did so immediately.

    “Fuck.” Rain gasped as he took lung-fulls of air. His jeans somehow grew even tighter and he was sure that the button was about to pop off them.

    “Stand up.” Mountain commanded as he did the same, again enveloping Rain in his shadow.

    Rain did so, wobbly slightly as he got his breath back. He tried to turn and face Mountain but a rough hand shoved his shoulder.

    “I didn’t tell you to do that, did I?” Mountain nearly snarled, “I thought you wanted to be good?”

    The push from Mountain made Rain nearly fall straight into the drum kit. But he managed to catch himself, hands braced on the high tom. He shuddered and knew he’d played right into Mountain’s hand when the Earth Ghoul let out a chuckle at the stance Rain had landed in.

    “Maybe you are good.” Mountain said contemplatively, kicking his stool out the way and pressing his own clothed bulge against Rain’s clothed ass, “You look so eager like this. Practically begging for it.”

    Rain was close to fully begging. But thankfully he didn’t have to as saw Mountain’s t-shirt land in a heap over one of the cymbals. Mountain used a hand on each of them to get both of their flies open and pushed Rain’s jeans down with his underwear before his own. Rain groaned in anticipation when that heavy appendage landed with a slap on his lower back.

    It was definitely going to take them a while to get back to their practice session. But of course, it’s important for drum and bass to properly lock in with each other so their music sounded the best it could.

A/n: Syren herself has picked up and wrote a chapter 2 where we do indeed see Mountain wrecking Rain over the drum kit…

[scuttling]

Flicker in the Dark - Jacob Black/Reader

Fandom: Twilight Saga Pairings: Jacob Black/Female Reader Word Count: 12,598 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Pining, Unprotected sex, Slightly aged up (Jacob is 20), Fix it fic Summary: My take on New Moon, if all of the characters were a bit more mature and Jacob got his girl. A/N: This is a third-person story that pairs Jacob with a girl who isn't Bella but who fills her role in the story; Bella doesn't exist in this universe because I find she's not as interesting to write as an original character, for me personally. The character has no name and no physical description, so treat her as an OC or a "reader," your choice there. :)

Keep reading below or link to AO3!

Bringing the idea of fixing the bikes to Jacob was the best thing she’s ever done: the best, and one of the dumbest, by far. 

They both have adult obligations now—she has class, and a part-time job, which are thankfully both online, and Jake works full time—so when the stars align and they’re free at the same time, they spend every moment in his garage like a couple of bored kids. They listen to music on his dad’s old radio, eat pizza and tacos standing up much more often than they should; Jacob isn’t twenty-one just yet, but they’re on the rez, so they sip beers sometimes, especially on the rare warm days where the sun shines into the garage and sweat prickles at their hairlines. 

He’s taller at twenty than he was when he was younger, broader and more filled out, like he’d said back on her birthday; she notices, sometimes, things like the tightness of his t-shirts stretched across his back, the way his jeans fit just, extraordinarily well. Those kinds of things you can’t help but notice, even if you’re emotionally, physically, and mentally unavailable, the way she is. 

He pokes fun at her age—forever a sore spot, especially when Edward is and will be twenty-two forever—but she catches him noticing her, too, sometimes, so she’s not a total embarrassment at least.

It doesn’t happen right away, like magic or anything, but hanging out in his garage does make her feel better; he makes her feel better, if she’s being honest with herself. He quiets the chatter in her brain, the anxiety, the self-doubt, and she smiles more when she’s with him, laughs more, gets out of her own head. She’s happier when she’s with him, too, bikes or no bikes—though the roar of the restored motorcycle engine certainly doesn’t hurt—and he’s good for her, there’s no denying that.

She remembers her dad’s advice, even more meaningful now that she’s moved out of his house and living on her own—sometimes, you gotta learn to love what’s good for you—and she even thinks she could, some days. 

That’s easy enough to say to herself, but so, so much harder in practice. She can tell Jacob is… interested, when they go to the movies, with the way he lays his hand on the armrest, palm up, in case she wants to hold it. Part of her wants to, really wants to; part just thinks about Edward and she clams up, can’t do it. She feels guilty, like she’s doing something wrong, even though he left her and not the other way around. 

She still loves him, will always love him, but Edward made his choice; she just wishes she felt free enough to make her own.

She feels guilty when they ride, too, because the one thing he’d asked of her was not to be reckless, and now she goes out of her way to find a rush wherever she can. Anything legal, be it motorcycles, rock climbing, running, skydiving, really, really big roller coasters—you name it, she’s done it, and though none of it ever worked as well as she’d hoped it would, she never stops trying. 

She knows better than to give herself over to things like drugs or binge drinking or meaningless one-night stands, but aside from that the limits to what she will try are almost non-existent. She loves the thrill of it all, loves feeling brave, feeling strong; In the end, she may wind up with a few cuts and bruises, but as long as she’s hurting no one but herself, she doesn’t feel too bad.

When she hurts Jacob, she feels awful, terrible, and she does hurt him—he’s so hurt for a while that he doesn’t want to see her, doesn’t even return her calls. She feels weak for the first time in a long time, like if she’d just been able to be what he wanted, to hold his hand, to kiss him, to get over herself, they both would have been happier. Now she just feels sad, and selfish, hurting the one person who has always been there for her, who’s always eased her pain.

She wants to respect his space, can’t bear the thought of hurting him more than she already has, but her anxiety gets the better of her; no amount of kickboxing or rock climbing has been able to take her mind off of him since that night at the movies, when he left in such a hurry. Even Edward has shifted to the back of her mind, though she has no idea when exactly that happened.

So she goes to him. Against his wishes. In the pouring rain. 

She’s so, so stupid.

He’s so, so shredded, even more so than usual; it’s the first thing she notices only because he’s soaking wet and shirtless and that makes it pretty obvious. The second thing she notices is his hair, no longer long and pulled back with a cord of leather, but cropped short, though inky black as always. The third thing she notices is the tattoo, a large, tribal design on his shoulder that looks well-healed even though she saw him less than a week ago.

She catalogs all of that, and then she remembers he’s avoiding her and that she’s here to ask for forgiveness (she’s willing to beg, but it’s sort of a last resort.)

She calls his name, but he doesn’t turn around at first, not until she’s right in front of him, fists balled angrily at her sides.  

“Jacob, I’m sorry… I’m sorry about the movie. Can we talk about it?” He huffs an unamused laugh, takes half a step closer; that kind of thing used to be playful, but now it seems almost menacing, between the muscles and the tattoo and the deepening frown on his face. 

“This isn’t about that. You–you need to leave. Now.” The tone of his voice leaves no room for argument… but then again, that’s never stopped her before. She steps closer too, more of a challenge than anything.

“Well if it’s not about that, what is it? What happened?” He turns away as if to leave and she reaches for him, fingers latching onto his wrist. She knows right away that when she tugs, and he turns, it’s because he let it happen; there’s no way anyone could force him to do anything now, not with how big he is, how strong, how solid beneath her hand. “Is it Sam? Did he get to you too?” 

“I was wrong about Sam. He’s helping me through it—just like he helped the others,” he says, but it sounds odd to her ears. If something was wrong, if he’d needed help, he would have come to her… right? “I can’t do this right now—you have to go. Please go.” 

Before, he was stern, but this time he’s pleading for her to leave, and that’s just not Jacob—they’d hash it out before he cut her off without so much as a word, instead of ghosting her and making his father lie for him and keeping secrets with Sam Uley.

“Jake,” she pleads too, but instead of tightening her grip on his wrist she brings her hand up to the nape of his neck, to brush through the short hair that lays there, drenched in rainwater. “Please don’t do this to me.” 

He closes his eyes like it pains him, and it very well might; she knows the similarities to the night Edward left are becoming almost too much for her to bear. 

Maybe that’s why she came here, after all, because she could, because at least she still knew where she could find him. Because even if he didn’t want to talk to her, at least she’d know he was okay. 

“I’m not doing this to you, I’m doing it for you. I’m not who you thought I was, I’m not good for you. You can’t be around me anymore.” 

Fuck that, she thinks immediately, because she is so absolutely tired of people telling her what she can and can’t do, what she’s strong enough for, what’s safe. 

She doesn’t want safe. All she wants is Jacob. 

“I decide what’s good for me; I decide,” she says, voice raised and rough, jabbing a finger in his direction, and he grabs both of her forearms and holds them between them. He looks like he wants to shake her, he’s so frustrated, but his grip isn’t tight. “You think you’re going to hurt me, or something? Because look at us, Jake.” Her gaze moves to his hands on her, holding her still but doing it gently, carefully. “It’s okay. You won’t hurt me, I know it.” 

He drops her arms like she’s burned him, like he didn’t even realize he was holding them, and takes two steps back, away from her.

“You’re right, I won’t—because you can’t ever come here again.” 

He turns and runs to Sam and the other guys, leaving her standing in the rain, soaked and alone, her stomach in knots. The chatter is back, the self-doubt, louder than ever now; if they could both do this, both leave her so easily, would she ever be enough for anyone?

She’s not sitting around her house moping about this, not again. She did that with Edward and it got her absolutely nowhere, so this time she resolves to just skip to the front of the line. She packs a bag for the trail and goes hiking, plans to take a long path deep into the woods, away from the bear attacks or whatever’s going on out there. Her dad would have her head if she walked headfirst into danger, and she knows better, anyway, isn’t going to actually risk her life just to get Rocky Mountain high. 

She hadn’t planned on risking her life, anyway, but how was she to know the formerly peaceful Laurent was back in Forks, red eyes and all, and that he was working with Victoria? That wasn’t on her supernatural drama bingo card, that’s for damn sure. 

She listens to him do the villain rambling for a moment, but irritation wins out over fear and she loses her temper, slips up and says that Edward is gone and he’s not coming back, and if he wants to kill her, well no one’s stopping him! 

He looks amused by her outburst, but the smile melts off of his face when an enormous black wolf steps out of the trees, followed by several others of all shades, shapes, sizes. She doesn’t get a chance to count them, just runs like hell in the other direction, but when she risks a look back they are going after Laurent with a precision she wouldn’t expect from wild animals just looking for dinner. 

She tells no one about the wolves—who would believe her anyway?—just runs back to her truck until she’s breathless, goes home and takes a steaming hot shower to rinse away the cold clamminess of his touch. She makes a cup of tea and changes into a t-shirt, a pair of shorts, then parks herself on the couch with her laptop for the rest of the night. 

Until the knock at the door that comes around 1 AM. 

It’s Jacob, and she’s so happy to see him that she forgets all about her day up until that point and wraps her arms around him, hugs him where he stands in the doorway. He hugs back, thank god, his embrace tight and warm and comforting, and then she ushers him in, offers to make more tea while they talk. 

“About the other day,” she begins, filling the electric kettle with water and plugging it in, but he cuts her off, panicked. 

“I wish I could explain,” he says, and he’s almost got those puppy dog eyes that always get him his way; he doesn’t even do it on purpose, just looks like that, and it’s incredibly hard to resist. “But I literally can’t.” 

“No, I know, I… I mean, I think I know.” She has a box of tea in her hand and she’s gesturing a bit wildly with it, so she sets it on the counter, walks closer to him, so there’s about a foot of space between them. “First rule of fight club is you can’t talk about fight club—wait, it’s not an actual fight club, right? Because you’d dominate.” 

He laughs, a real one, with his head thrown back, and she all but grins. There he is. Her Jacob. 

“No, it’s not a fight club, but you’re right. I can’t talk about it, I can’t tell you anything.” His tone of voice hurts her, because it’s clear this is something he wants, needs to share; she moves closer, eyes on his.

“And what if I guess? Is that against the rules?” He shakes his head fervently, rests his palm on the counter beside him.

“No, no—in fact, that’s exactly what I need you to do. Sam can’t stop you, and I know you, you’re smart, won’t stop until you figure it out.”  He reaches out with his other hand, tentatively, and links their fingers together like he did at the movies; when he brings their hands up to his chest, this time, she doesn’t pull away. “It would be so much easier if you knew.”

His face is so soft but so serious, his brow furrowed, and she squeezes his hand.

“I’m going to feel really silly if I’m wrong, but I don’t think I am. I’ve been working on it all night.” With her free hand, she pulls her phone out of her pocket, shows him the same screen she has up on her laptop in the other room. It’s a list of all the facts she has, her own speculation, and finally, in size 42 font, one very important eight-letter word. “You said before that Sam was collecting disciples—a pack of them, Jacob, right?” 

“Yes. Fuck,” he breathes, and though she’s heard him say it in the garage many times, this one is special because it means she’s right. He slides down to a seat on the tile floor, looks so relieved it makes her chest feel tight, and she kneels in front of him, hands on his bare shoulders. 

“You’re a werewolf, Jake, just like the legend—your tribe is descended from wolves. Tell me I’m wrong.” 

He doesn’t say a word, and at first she’s afraid she is incorrect, but then he reaches out and pulls her close, crushes her to his body. He breathes hard into her hair, holds her tightly, and she can’t help it, she cries, hot tears leaving tracks down her cheeks.

He brings his hands there after a moment, wipes the tears away with his thumbs, then holds her face like she’s something precious, lips turning up into a half-smile.

“Thank you. I knew you could do it.” He tips forward, presses their foreheads together, moves his hands to her waist. “You don’t know how badly I wanted you to know.”

“Oh, Jake. I’m sorry—I should have caught on faster. It’s obvious, when you put everything together, when you… You know. When you’ve seen what I’ve seen.” He nods his head and swallows, presses his fingertips into her side. She shifts closer, or he does, maybe they both do, so their breath mixes between them, soft and warm.

“It’s okay, you’re here now. You’re here, it's okay,” he repeats, and she pushes fingers through his hair, softer now that it’s dry. 

“I’m here, and I don’t have to stay away.”

They don’t quite kiss, because she’s still nervous, maybe even more so now—they were so close to being separated, and now that he’s back in her life, in her house, she doesn’t want to risk breaking this delicate, fragile thing between them. His mouth just brushes over hers, more a swipe than a press of lips, and she turns her head so the rest of it catches her cheek instead. 

He sighs, but he’s not upset, and he lifts a hand to smooth through her hair before dropping it altogether. 

“I should go,” he says, but she can’t bear the thought of losing him again already. She stands when he does, takes his hand the way he did before. 

“Can you stay the night? Please?” She squeezes his fingers, tries her hand at her own version of those sad puppy eyes. “I understand if you can’t, but I’d feel… I want you to,” she’s clear to say, and eventually, he nods. 

She makes up a bed for him on the sofa, intends to head upstairs when he’s comfortable; she doesn’t know what stops her, but she stretches out on the other end of the couch instead and they put on a movie, something black and white, volume low. She couldn’t say for sure who’s the first to fall asleep.

She’s the first to wake up, so she takes a quick shower, does some work, brews some coffee. He’ll probably head out the moment his feet hit the floor, so she prepares herself for that—she just hopes that the rest of his pack knows he’s there, that they aren’t worried, or frantically searching the preserve for signs of him like she would be. 

She asks him that when he pads into the kitchen an hour later, eyes sleepy, bedhead evident, and he pours a cup of coffee and sits across from her at the table. 

“Nah, they knew I was coming,” he assures with a sip. “They know by now that if they can’t find me, I’m probably here with you.” That makes her smile, though she looks down into her mug and tries not to show it. He takes a few more quick gulps despite the temperature and sets down his empty cup with a smack of his lips. “Speaking of the pack, I think you should meet them. We gather at Emily’s—that’s Sam’s fiancee—sometimes, and they’ll be there today.”

“Will they be angry that I figured it out?” she asks, genuinely curious. She wants to meet them, wants to know more about the group of guys Jacob is now supernaturally entangled with, but she’s not so sure a house of angry werewolves is somewhere she’s ready to be so soon after her last brush with death. He breathes a laugh and shakes his head. 

“They won’t be angry. They’ll probably be irritated with me, because I couldn’t just let you go…” Their eyes meet, and she thinks of reaching out to touch his hand across the table, though she doesn’t in the end. “But as for you, they’ll probably just be impressed.”

The pack is both impressed by her and slightly irritated with Jacob, but stern glances and eye rolls quickly turn to laughter and playful shoving, as they pile into Emily’s small but cozy kitchen and make introductions around a batch of fresh muffins.

She gets official confirmation on things she’d only read about—like their ability to hear each other’s thoughts when shifted, the accelerated healing, their speed, their power—right from the wolves' mouths, and they learn from her too, everything she knows about vampires like Laurent and Victoria. She doesn’t talk much about the Cullens, mostly because their secrets are not hers to tell, but she can see Jacob’s brain working as she mentions Victoria’s vendetta, as she shows the group the pale, silvery bite mark on her arm. 

“If she’s here, she’s here for me,” she tells them, and Jake tenses, his jaw tight, veins visible, shoots Sam a look that conveys they have a lot to talk about when she’s not around. 

Later, she suggests to Jacob that he take a walk with her, because she can tell how all of those stories have put him on edge. Together they amble slowly toward the beach, close but not touching, and this time she does take his hand, leans in so their forearms brush. 

“It’ll be okay,” she murmurs, tilting her head to look up at him. “You guys are strong, fast. You took down Laurent—I have no doubts you’ll get her too.” 

“Before she hurts you?” he says, staring ahead, voice rough because he’s been mostly silent all day, listening closely to her and taking everything in. “Because if she does…” 

“She won’t. The others are watching her,” she says, hoping like hell that’s still true, “and even if she finds me… I trust you to protect me.” He stops there, on the wet sand, and she turns toward him so she can see his expression, to get a better idea of what’s on his mind. 

“If they come back, I’m not allowed to fight on their land—I’d be breaking the treaty,” he says with a pained look. She understands the words he’s not saying: if they come back, I wouldn’t be able to protect you in your own home.

“They’re not coming back,” she whispers, because she can’t say the words any louder than that, even though they’re true.  “He made his choice, and that’s—that’s okay.” 

“Is it?” Jacob asks, leaning in, and she gets it, gets why; she hasn’t exactly been positive about Edward’s departure, how his choice affected her, took his family away from her too, and now suddenly she’s okay with it?

It isn’t sudden, though, not really. It’s been a gradual acceptance, something she’s been coming to terms with since the day he left. She knows Edward’s decision wasn’t made easily; she knows he didn’t leave because he didn’t love her, but because he loved her so much he put aside his feelings for her and did what he thought was right. 

He went about it all the wrong way, removing every trace of himself from her life, banning his family from communicating with her, taking her choices away, but in the end his heart was in the right place, and she’s found a way to respect that, despite everything. 

Maybe it’s just Jacob. He brought her out of her post-breakup shell, made her smile again, laugh again, feel important and wanted and cared for. Maybe he filled in the cracks of her broken heart so she could use it again, without the need for exhilaration and adrenaline to cover up the pain of what she’s lost; maybe it’s just Jacob, bright like the sun they so seldom see, special and rare and wild. 

“It’s okay,” she assures him, voice steady with her conviction. She raises their conjoined hands and presses her lips to his knuckles, just briefly, before dropping them back to her side. 

Jake nods, accepts her answer, and they walk further along the beach until the sun goes down in a hazy blend of blue and orange and red.

He offers to drive her home, and even though it’s impractical, and she’d usually put up a fight, she wants that extra time with him. Wants to be that close to him. She sits in the middle of the bench seat, neither up against him nor really on the passenger’s side, but close enough for Jake to throw an arm across her shoulders, and they listen to the radio and talk about his pack while cruising down the road. 

“I better go,” he murmurs before she can even unlock her front door, and she tries not to let her face fall; she’d been hoping he’d stay over again, or come inside for a little bit, at least. 

She must fail at controlling her expression, because Jacob smiles softly, like he’s pleased with himself, and leans in, brushing his fingers over the line of her jaw. 

“We’re patrolling tonight—got a vampire to kill. But I’ll call you tomorrow?” 

She nods beneath his touch, and he pulls back and turns to leave, jogging down the street and toward the forest that’ll lead him back to La Push.

He does call the next day, but it’s brief; Victoria’s back, just as Sam expected, so they’re running all night, all day, trying to catch her off guard, taking breaks only to eat and sleep when they absolutely have to. Jacob promises to check in when he can, but after three days with no contact—and a voicemail from her father about locals spotting wolves in the woods—she’s on edge again, less concerned for her own safety, more worried about Jake’s. 

She’s an absolute idiot for doing it—going to the beach, to the tall cliffs that loom over it—but she needs the rush again, doesn’t feel right when it’s just her own troubled voice in her head. She needs to hear the purr of an engine, the hum of a plane, the crashing of pure, white water against rocks… or maybe Jacob’s heartbeat. But the cliffs are the simple option at the moment, and all she can think about until she’s actually there, looking out over the ocean, the gritty scents of sand and salt in her nose. 

She takes several deep, long breaths. That’s the key to these things that bring her so much excitement—using all of her senses, so she’s not just herself but everything around her too. She needs to see the sun on the horizon, taste the spray of seawater and clean, crisp air. She needs to smell the damp earth, touch the frothy bubbles that lap at the shore, hear…

She hears a wolf, actually, howling solemnly in the distance, but doesn’t register the sound until after she’s already jumped. 

The waves are choppier than they’d appeared when she was looking down at them, and it knocks the breath out of her lungs when they crash into her body, pulling her down into the dark vastness of the icy sea. Her arms and legs move instinctively, fighting to bring her back to the surface, but the water is deep and heavy and she’s already so tired of trying. 

She’s so cold all she can feel is cold, her teeth chattering, so even when she hits her head on a boulder and it starts to bleed, she doesn’t realize what’s happened until everything turns black.

She’s warmer, suddenly, that’s all she knows, though the ground beneath her back is rocky and wet, uncomfortable. She thinks maybe it’s a blanket that feels so warm, but quickly realizes it’s Jacob above her, soaked to his bones, a sigh of relief passing his lips. 

“Oh thank god. Can you hear me?” He cradles the back of her head in his palm and helps her sit up, then presses his fingers tenderly to the sore bump beneath her hair. “Your head’s not that bad, but I bet it hurts.” 

“Hmm. Hurts,” she mumbles, her throat raw, temples throbbing. She’s cold and tired and thirsty, but ashamed above all else; maybe she really does need someone making the decisions for her, if this is the kind of stupidity she gets up to when she’s alone. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” he answers quickly, and he runs his hands over her arms and legs, her neck, her face, checking for further injury. “I’m just glad you’re alright. The waves are bad today; you could have been swept away.” 

“I didn’t realize that until it was too late,” she admits sheepishly, and when he brings her closer she rests her cheek against his chest, feels tears stinging her already tired eyes. “I’m sorry, Jacob.” 

“It’s okay, I’m here. It’s okay.” His voice is as soft as his hands as they curve around her, holding her against him, and they sit like that for a couple minutes, until Sam runs over and tells him to get her home. 

He drives again, but this time she’s even more grateful, because there’s no way she could have done it herself. She feels so much at once—dumb and scared and childish, but also brave and calm, while somehow her mind races with thoughts of the wolves howling and Jacob’s hands in her hair. Her focus is shot, and even though she’s wrapped in one of Jake’s thick, fleece lined hoodies, she trembles, heavy and cold, as she peers out the passenger side window, watching the trees go by.

“Hundred and eight degrees over here,” Jacob says eventually, with a half smile, and she blinks for a moment before giving in; with a sigh, she scoots closer, wraps an arm around his waist. She can feel the heat of his body even through the layers they wear, and she shivers involuntarily at the pleasant but abrupt change in temperature.

“You still want me this close? Not afraid the bad decisions will rub off onto you?” It’s a joke, a self-deprecating one, and an apology all bundled together. “What I did was stupid, I know. I could have gotten really hurt, and you should have been out there with the pack, with Harry, not saving me.” 

He tilts his head, leans closer so his cheek rests against her hair.

“Well it wasn’t smart, but we all have our moments. And you couldn’t have known about Harry—don’t be too hard on yourself.” A long beat of silence passes, and she turns toward him, pressing her icy nose to his neck with another sigh.

“Mmm. You’re so warm. It must be nice, never getting cold.” 

“It’s a wolf thing,” he says with a shrug, but it’s not, not really, and she can’t let that stand. 

“Maybe, but trust me, it’s a Jacob thing too. You’ve always been warm.” She just sits there, breathes him in, lets him warm her hands and nose, so content she almost doesn’t notice when he pulls up in front of her house.

“This is better. Now that you know about me,” he says, tipping his face down, after he turns off the truck. She pulls back just enough to look into his eyes, to try to gauge his intent.

“But?” He swallows hard, looks away for a moment before returning to her face.

“You saw what happened to Emily. Sam got angry, lost it for a split second, and Em was standing too close. He’ll never be able to take that back.” He shakes his head, as if imagining the two of them in the same situation. What he could do to her. What she would think of him. “What if I get mad and I hurt you?” 

“You’re new to this—even if you are a natural,” she says, remembering a comment Embry had made when they’d last spoken. “You’ll learn how to control it, how to read the warning signs, and you’ll either stop yourself from turning or get somewhere safe. We’ll be okay,” she promises, resting her hand soothingly against his neck, and he sighs softly.

“Sometimes, I feel like I’m gonna disappear. Like one day it will be all wolf and no Jake.” He leans in, close enough that their noses just barely brush, and the way he looks down at her is something like… 

Yearning, she thinks to herself after a beat. It’s a powerful emotion, but she’s never seen it look quite so beautiful before. 

“You’re not going to lose yourself. I won’t let that happen.” 

“How?” he asks, bringing a hand up to cover hers, and she wets her lips, shakes her head to clear it; it’s swimming again, in this small space, so very close to him—especially when he’s looking at her like that.

“I’ll tell you all the time… how special you are to me.” She looks up, feels like she’s showing her soul to him, like this incident has stripped her down to bare bones and she’s letting him see her, once and for all. He stares into her eyes for a long moment, then leans in slowly, tentatively, and this time she doesn’t stop herself from meeting him in the middle, from pressing her mouth to his. 

She can actually feel the relief wash over him when she doesn’t reject his kiss, like he’s been tightly coiled and tense and can finally relax because she wants the same things, feels the same way.

She expects his lips to be warm, soft, but he is scorching against her skin, even more so when he moves his hand to her cheek in a gentle caress. With the palm against his hip, she pushes up his t-shirt, gets her fingers on his body, and they both gasp softly into the kiss, deepen it. 

“Jacob,” she sighs when they part for air; he seems okay, if a little shaky, but she feels flushed, eager, almost vibrating with the need to keep kissing him. She wants more, even though her throat burns like the last time his lips touched hers, when he forced the water out of her lungs and saved her life. 

That’s what he does best, her Jacob—like a flicker in the dark, he always pulls her away from the dangers of her own making and brings her back into the light.

“Is this real?” he asks, his breath a ghost on her lips; his other hand, on her lower back, pulls her closer to his body, and she turns her head and kisses the palm resting on her cheek. 

They kiss again, hands a bit less careful, hers sliding up his back, his weaving into her hair to control the tilt of her head. She gives in to it all, lets him set the pace, gripping him like a life preserver and letting his heat warm her from the inside out. She feels like she can’t get possibly close enough, wants to be pressed skin to skin, but she settles for sliding into his lap, ducking her head so she doesn’t hit it on the metal roof of the truck. 

He groans as she twists fingers into his hair, as she pulls him into her and feels the long, hard line of his body against hers. She kisses faster, harder, and he matches her fervor, wraps an arm around her waist and catches her chin with tight fingers. 

They kiss for a long time, and the cabin heats, windows fogging up as they share breath and saliva, as they murmur each other’s names like prayer. Her lips are red and raw when she finally needs to pause, and she rests her head against his chest and listens to the thunderous, wild beating of his heart. 

“Will you stay the night? Please?” she asks, voice a little broken—rough with need, and soreness from nearly drowning, and breathlessness caused by the most intense kiss of her entire life. 

Jacob nods, and he sets her carefully back on the seat, removes the keys from the ignition and climbs out of the truck. She slides out behind him, and he closes the door, takes her hand in his just like she did on the beach.

He locks the front door behind them when they’re finally inside—as if that will stop anyone we need to worry about, she teases with a soft laugh—and she takes the lead, walks up the stairs toward her bedroom with Jacob trailing behind. 

Despite his surreal body heat and the thick, warm sweatshirt he’d given her to wear, she’s still cold down to her bones, and wet like a drowned rat, so she pulls off her shoes and socks and sets them down by the radiator. Jacob watches her every move from a couple steps away, eyes lingering as she shrugs out of his hoodie, then pulls her damp sweater over her head. 

There’s nothing sexy or seductive about it, it’s not a striptease by any means, but he doesn’t look away when she’s down to her bra, and she doesn’t want him to. He bends down to take off his boots, to line them up next to hers, then bridges the distance between them and leans in for a deep, slow kiss. 

It’s not long before they both sink down onto the bed, and her fingers slip open the button of her jeans, then hesitate, wait at the button of his. She looks up at him, and the confirmation is all but written there, in the darkness of his eyes, the swipe of his tongue over his lips, but she needs to be sure. 

“I want you, all of you,” she murmurs, and then she brushes a hand through his hair, leans in to just rest her mouth against his. It’s delicate like the first time, but full of meaning, and he presses up into her kiss. “Do you want this?” 

“I want this. You. All—all of you.” He nods, licks his lips again, eyes softer but no less hungry, and she flicks open the button and kisses him like she did in the truck: hands on his body, in his hair, her breath all his. 

They don’t part, not really, just fall back against the pillows and tug at clothing, pressing kisses to throats and palms. His t-shirt drops to the bedroom floor, then her jeans and underwear, his, and the room is quiet except for the sounds of eager, wet kisses and soft, needy moans. 

She sits up, reaches back to unclasp her bra, and Jacob drags the strap down her shoulder, helps her take it off, leaving it somewhere in the bed; his mouth moves to hers, then down her neck, over her collarbone, and finally caresses each nipple with a gentle reverence that makes her ache all over.  

“You’re still sure?” he asks when she is shaking beneath his touch, strong arms wrapped around her back, and she nods and shifts up into his lap. 

When their lips meet, the kiss is hard, and she curls an arm around his shoulders, weaving a hand into his hair. They’re both panting when she leans up, guides him inside her, and when she sinks down it’s like a flash of tingling heat takes over her entire body. 

Jacob groans, holding her securely, thrusting up as she works her thighs above him. They kiss, deep and messy, graceless but passionate, her fingers tugging, his pressing hard into her skin. 

It’s not at all how she’d expected her first time to be; she’d imagined it would be with Edward, of course, and slow, but she can’t get enough of Jacob and it seems like he can’t get enough of her either. She’d imagined a cool, pale body above her, but it’s Jacob’s deep, rich, hot skin she presses her lips to, her fingernails against. She’d expected Edward’s hard, marble arms around her, and while Jacob is strong and firm he’s still soft, skin slick with sweat as they move together. 

“Jake,” she murmurs, the taste of him on her lips, his scent in her nose, woodsy, clean. “Jacob.” Her body trembles and he holds her tighter, presses his face into her neck. 

“I’ve got you.” She sighs happily at that, grabs his hair more roughly, rides him faster. 

“You’ve got me. You’ve always got me.” 

Jacob looks up at her, eyes fiery, liquid, then pulls her in with a hand on the back of her neck and kisses her like the first time—soft, nervous, sweet. The juxtaposition of that gentle kiss and his possessive grip makes her dizzy, and when he pulls back his face is all she can see, all she wants to see, all she needs.

“I’ve always got you,” he promises, his gaze tender, unflinching. “Always.”

He’s got her when he comes, holding her tightly with one thick forearm and dragging his free hand over her breasts, then lower, to rub her clit as she bounces herself to climax in his grasp. “Oh, god,” she breathes, voice like a shiver, and her fingernails dig half-moons into his biceps as they both slow, slow, slow, then stop altogether.

He eases them both down against the bed, arms around her, their legs entwined, and they catch their breath, just look at each other until the exhaustion of the day catches up to her. Her eyes flutter closed, and pressed so close to him, so warm, all she can do is sleep.

When she wakes, it’s still mostly dark, and she desperately needs to clean up in the bathroom and get a glass of water. Jacob’s t-shirt is the first piece of clothing she sees—or the first she wants to see—and she pulls it over her head and pads to the bathroom for a human moment—a very human moment indeed. 

She pauses, while washing her hands, to look over her reflection in the mirror. Rationally, she knows nothing has really changed, but at the same time everything has. 

The bathroom water is never cold enough to drink, so she treads down the stairs, across the kitchen, turns on the tap and lets it run until the water is icy and crisp. She fills a glass, takes a couple of sips, then almost drops it when a cool hand is suddenly pressed to her shoulder. 

It’s Alice, and she uses her other hand to catch the glass before it can hit the floor and shatter. 

“Relax. It’s just me.” Her eyes are soft, and it’s clear she is happy to see her, but there’s something else in her expression, something inquisitive. “You’re alright.”

“I’m fine. I’m… good, actually.” She shrugs, which bares her shoulder, in the large t-shirt she wears, that she’d forgotten she was wearing. She freezes—she knows how she must smell to Alice, like Jacob and like… Jacob—but her friend just shakes her head. 

“I couldn’t see you; well, I saw you jump off a cliff, and then you were gone. I thought you died.” 

“Alive and well,” she says with a tone that’s hoping for lighthearted, but… 

She has no regrets about being with Jacob, not one—she just hadn’t expected to be confronted with a vampire she once considered a sister almost immediately after. She doesn’t know what to say right now, how to act. Who to be.

“I was cliff jumping, recreationally. It was fun... for a minute.” Alice rolls her eyes, but it’s clear she’s happy she’s unharmed—though perhaps irritated by her tendency toward life-threatening idiocy.

“That doesn’t explain why I couldn’t see you, why your whole future went black.” Her golden eyes stare seriously, unblinking for a moment, and then she looks away. “Though maybe I owe that to the wolf in your bed.” 

Of all the nights for Alice to come back to Forks, she thinks, a suddenly uncomfortable pit in her stomach. Then she hears footsteps on the stairs.

“Not in her bed anymore,” Jacob says, voice low, from the doorway to the kitchen; he takes half a step forward, an aborted move, like he wants to put himself in between them. 

“This is Alice, Edward’s sister. Alice, this is Jacob,” she explains, trying not to focus on his shirtless torso, or the pained expression on his face. She blows out a deep breath. “It’s okay. She won’t hurt me.” 

“She’s hurt you before,” he counters, no doubt remembering every heartbroken, aching expression she’d worn in the months prior. He takes a step closer, so he is next to her, his forearm grazing hers, and Alice takes a step back. “I’d like to stick around, if it’s all the same to you.” 

He’s posturing, that much is clear, but she can't find it in herself to be irritated, because at least he’s giving her the option, letting her choose.

“I thought you couldn’t protect me here,” she says, turning her face up to look at him, and Jacob’s response makes heat pool low in her belly, just like the night before. 

“There is nowhere in this world I won’t protect you—treaty or no treaty.” 

She wants so badly to kiss him, but Alice is there, Alice, right in front of her after all this time, and she’s conflicted. Torn. He can tell, she knows, but he doesn’t take it personally, just reaches up to scratch his head, sighs. 

“So are more of you coming? Is–is he…?” 

“I came alone. And no,” Alice replies after a moment, but she’s looking at her instead, probably knows that he’s just saying what she’s too worried to ask. “He only calls in once every few months. Says he wants to be alone.” Jacob scoffs.

“Great. He wants to be alone, so you all leave her behind, unprotected? That red headed vampire is after her because of him.” 

That gets a reaction out of Alice, whose eyes darken protectively.

“Who, Victoria? I haven’t seen her.” She stares off into the distance, like she’s searching for memories, visions, sifting through what she’s seen and trying to piece together what she hasn’t. “Just like I didn’t see you get pulled out of the water. There’s a lot I haven’t seen, apparently,” she adds under her breath, and the other girl presses her lips together, sighs. 

Not the time or place for this discussion, and they both know it, but that doesn’t mean it’s avoidable for long. 

“So you can’t see around Jacob. The wolves,” she guesses. “I’ve been with them a lot lately.”

“With him a lot lately,” Alice corrects. Jacob huffs, but it’s not untrue, so she lets her think what she wants. Her silence must speak volumes, because Alice takes a deep, wholly unnecessary breath, and gestures toward the door. “Should I go?” 

“Please don’t,” she says quickly, nearly begging. It’s the first she’s seen of Alice in almost a year and she cannot let her leave as abruptly as she’d shown up. “If you could just give us a minute…” 

“Take two,” the vampire says, and it’s with a half-smile that turns into a smirk. “I’ll go Febreze the living room while I wait: it smells like wet dog.” She turns to leave, a bounce in her step that the other girl can’t help laughing at, shaking her head. 

She sobers up when Jacob turns toward her, takes a step that moves the both of them, so her back is pressed up against the kitchen counter. He looks so serious, and her heart beats for him everywhere. 

“Do you believe her? When she says she came alone?” he asks, and she tilts her head, nods softly. 

“Of course I believe her. She just had to make sure I was okay, that’s all. There’s… there’s nothing for them here.” 

Even as she says the words, she hopes they’re not true—hopes that, even if they really aren’t meant to be together, that she and Edward, she and the Cullens, can still be… Friends isn’t really a strong enough word, but she wants them in her life, potential bloody accidents be damned. 

“So if he came back,” Jacob says, leaning in closer, his lips hovering over hers, “you wouldn’t go to him?” His tone is light, but she understands the weight of his question, takes a moment to find the right words to answer it. 

“If he came back, I’d want to see him. Just like I want to see Alice.” She reaches out to touch him, his warm, bare skin, places her palm over his thumping heart. “But I wouldn’t go to him. Not like this.” 

It’s true, and she wants to say more, to promise him, reassure him, but just after she says it, the landline rings. Jacob sighs, his breath on her cheek, and reaches out a hand to answer it. “Hello?” The person on the other end speaks in a low tone she can’t make out, but she can see the tick in Jacob’s jaw, a hard set to his eyes. “He isn’t here right now, but that’s not who you really want, is it?” 

There’s another moment of conversation she can’t hear, and Alice walks into the room looking stunned; Jacob hands the other girl the receiver, and she looks from him to Alice and then speaks into the phone. “Hello?” 

“You’re alright.” 

It’s Edward, his voice cool and smooth but thick with emotion. It makes butterflies flutter around in her stomach, just like it used to. 

“I’m alright.” She doesn’t give him more than he asks for, doesn’t take more than he offers. She’s aware of two sets of eyes on her, feels more nervous than before, in her oversized t-shirt and sleep-mussed hair.

She’s glad he can’t see her and wonders exactly what that means.

“Good. Rosalie said Alice had a vision…” He trails off, but they both know what he’s not saying: everyone thought she’d given up and killed herself. She crosses her arms.

“The vision was incomplete. I’m fine. Stupid, but fine.” Edward huffs a laugh down the line, and she can imagine the exact cant of his mouth, the glimmer in his eye that always seemed to be reserved for her.

“You are many things, but stupid is not one of them.” There’s more he wants to say, she can tell; as a man of few words, many of their conversations were punctuated with heavy, meaningful silence. Part of her wishes she could see his face, at least. That always helped. “Who answered the phone? Jacob?”

She looks up at him involuntarily, notes the tightness of his mouth, his arms folded in front of his bare chest. 

“Yes, Jacob. He’s the one who pulled me out of the water, the one Alice didn’t see.” 

“Hmm. He still doesn’t seem to like me much.” Her lips turn up at that—understatement of the century—and she wonders if Jake can hear him too. Based on the stoic expression he wears, he either can’t, or he’s not paying attention. 

“No he does not.” A beat passes, then two. “You should call your family more often, go see them. They miss you.” 

“It’s difficult,” he says, swallowing, and she nods at no one. 

“I know, but don’t punish them. Please.” She knows how it feels, to be totally cut off from people she loves, to constantly wonder, always fear the worst; she doesn’t say it because she knows he knows.

“I’ll consider it, if you don’t go jumping off those cliffs any time soon.” She laughs softly, surprised at his humor; this was not how she would have ever anticipated a call like this to go, but she likes it. Likes them, like this. 

“Deal. Alice is looking at me like she’s going to steal the phone any moment,” she warns, which is putting it mildly. “So I’m going to put her on. You can call when it’s not life or death, you know,” she adds quietly. “It would be nice to hear from you. If you ever want to talk.” 

She doesn’t know if he responds, because Alice takes the receiver, winds the cord around her arm, and scolds her brother with love in the way only a sister can manage. 

While they talk, she walks toward Jacob, then past him, toward the staircase, but she takes hold of his hand as she goes, and he follows just like the night before. This time, he closes the bedroom door behind them. 

“I’m sorry this happened like this,” she says, sitting down on the bed, one leg beneath her and the other hanging over the edge. “I’m not sorry Alice is here, but I’m sorry that’s what you woke up to. If you were… worried.” Jacob takes the space next to her atop the rumpled duvet. 

“I was worried when I smelled a bloodsu- vampire,” he corrects quickly, “and you weren’t beside me.”

“I’m sorry,” she says again, this time leaning closer. “But thank you for giving me the phone, letting me talk to him. I’m sure that wasn’t easy.” He shrugs, like it was no big deal, even though she remembers how angry he’d looked at the sound of Edward’s voice. 

“I almost didn’t. I mean, technically, he didn’t ask for you.” She rolls her eyes—definitely guy logic—then stands up, scoops his jeans off the floor and hands them over to him. Her face heats at the memory of removing them in the first place, but she snaps out of that for her own sake and grabs fresh clothes, steps into the bathroom to make herself presentable.

When she’s done, she heads back to her bedroom, where Jacob is now clad in jeans and boots, sitting shirtless on her bed. She deposits the borrowed t-shirt onto his lap, and when he thinks she’s not looking he brings it to his nose, inhales long and slow, before pulling it over his head.

That action does things to her, and she wishes for a moment that she had his senses, so she could smell the two of them the same way he does, their scents deeply saturated and blended together.

They head downstairs when they’re both dressed, and while he rummages in the refrigerator for something to make them for breakfast, she treads into the living room and sits down next to Alice on the couch. 

“So,” Alice says, and then she gestures to a cup of tea. The other girl picks up the mug and thanks her, brings it to her lips. “How long has that been going on?” 

She feels her cheeks heat, and she hides behind another sip of tea. 

“Really? I haven’t seen you in almost a year and that’s what you want to talk about?” 

“Oh, forgive me for being curious about what it’s like to date a werewolf when last I saw you were grieving the loss of my brother.” Alice’s tone is more playful than it would seem, and her eyes smile even if her lips don’t. 

She always knew that Edward wasn’t telling the truth when he said he didn’t want her. He just couldn’t bear it, knowing that being with him put her in so much danger, caused her so much pain. She knew it was worth it, but if he didn’t… there’s nothing she could have done to change his mind, she knows that now. She can’t feel guilty for moving on when it’s exactly what he’d wanted her to do in the first place. 

“Okay, you’re right. Let’s talk about how I’m going to comb the woods, find Victoria, and rip her into confetti for threatening to hurt you.” 

“You don’t have to do that,” Jacob says, walking into the room with… a cup of tea. He looks over at the mug in her hand, then sets the one he brought her down on the table without a word. “The pack’s got it covered.” 

“All due respect, but if the pack had it covered, she wouldn’t be a threat anymore, would she?” Alice tosses over her shoulder. The other girl sets her tea down and sighs. 

“Alright, can we not do this? The age-old vampires versus werewolves thing? Especially if I’m in the middle of it. Maybe you guys could work together for a change; Alice can’t protect this part of the territory all by herself.” She picks up her drink—a drink, the one Jacob made, this time—and takes a long sip, looks up at them over the rim of the mug. 

“The pack could help, if you give us the authority to amend the treaty,” Jacob says to Alice, though he’s kind of looking at the ceiling, his arms crossed. “But wherever she is, I’ll be.” 

“You can’t be with her every second,” Alice counters, and her exasperation makes it  sound like an argument she’s had before. “It’s not good for either of you and could put her in danger; if Victoria picks up on it, she’ll be able to use your scent to track her anywhere. Trust me, yours is a lot stronger than hers is, and it’s all over her.” 

She thinks Jacob makes some kind of noise, like a low growl in the very back of his throat, but it’s hard to hear. Alice raises her eyebrows like she’s trying not to roll her eyes. 

The three of them discuss potential ways to coordinate with the pack, and Alice mentions calling in Emmett and Jasper to see if they could help with the search; the sooner Victoria is gone, the better, is the general consensus, and Jacob thinks he can get Sam on board with that as well, even if it means more Cullens coming back to town. 

She finishes both cups of tea, then a plate of eggs and toast Jacob put together from the bare-bones contents of her kitchen—she reminds herself to make a shopping list, then absently wonders if she’ll have a grand escort to Trader Joe’s. 

“I’ll make some calls while you’re gone,” Alice says as she is taking her last bite; she looks up from her plate, confused, and Alice waves a hand. “I saw a glimpse of you at the grocery store, but then it went dark; I assume that means he’s going with you.”

“I thought about it for a split second, as a joke,” she clarifies with a huff of laughter. “I don’t think I need a bodyguard in the produce aisle at eight AM.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Alice and Jacob say, at the same time, and her lips twitch in amusement. 

Looks like they’re not so different, in the end.

She gives in and allows Jacob to drive her to the supermarket, though not without a long look from Alice as he walks her to the truck with his hand on the small of her back. 

They breeze through the store thanks to the list in her head—she buys a little more than she usually would, because it seems like Jacob plans to be around. She likes the thought of that even more than she’d expected, likes choosing things solely because she knows he’ll enjoy them.

“I think we should talk about last night,” Jacob says, voice low, when they’re nearly back to her house. She cringes internally, because that’s never a sentence a girl wants to hear after a night like that, and he clears his throat. “I know cliff jumping ended up being kind of traumatic for you, and it didn’t feel like it last night, but if I took advantage…”

He looks over at her, his expression pained, and she shifts closer and wraps her hand around his forearm.

“God, no, Jake—that’s not what happened.” He brings the truck to a stop in her driveway, puts it in park, and she presses her palm to his cheek so he’ll focus on her instead of fixing his gaze out the window. “I wanted everything, every moment. I still want it,” she murmurs, and he looks over her face like he’s still not quite sure he believes it.

“You do? Even after… after you spoke to him, and everything?” It’s a fair question, and again, one she answers very carefully.

“I think we needed to talk, he and I, but it didn’t change anything. You’re the one who changed everything,” she admits softly, tentatively, wetting her lips. She hopes her eyes convey the certainty her voice can’t seem to. “Do you want to kiss me?” she breathes, leaning closer, her fingers winding a path through his hair, and he nods his head and presses his mouth to hers. 

She gets up on her knees so she can be closer to him, but she doesn’t climb into his lap like before—she does have some self-restraint, despite what it may seem. She curls one arm around the muscles of his back, pulls him in for more contact with the hand in his hair, and it’s a few minutes later when she remembers they’ve got bags of perishable groceries in the back and a vampire with excellent acoustic abilities just inside her home. 

She pulls back, smiles a little at the soft, unfocused look on his face, then runs her hand down his chest before lifting it away entirely.

“I know we’re kind of at DEFCON 1 right now, but more of that a little later would be nice.” 

“Hmm. Very nice,” he agrees with a nod, his voice slightly rough, and he turns off the ignition and carries all of her groceries into the kitchen with one strong arm. 

Emmett and Jasper do come back, with Rosalie and Esme, to her delight and Jacob’s discomfort. Between the pack, who comes to get the vampires’ scents so there’s no friendly fire, and the family, who split time between her house and the one they left behind, the place is a revolving door of the supernatural for the next few days. 

All of them take turns watching over her house at night, while the others patrol the woods. She catches up with everyone she’s been separated from—even Jasper gives her a crushing hug, so at least the time away was good for something—and it’s wonderful, but it means there’s not much time to be with Jacob aside from planning sessions and the occasional quick check in. The most time she spends with him is when they attend Harry’s funeral, something somber and intimate, with ethereal music and a glowing campfire and endless stories about the Clearwater line. 

She is introduced to Leah and Seth, Harry’s children, and while Seth seems welcoming and friendly his sister is cold, standoffish—though not without reason, she soon learns from the pack. 

“She’s not always like that… mostly just when she’s around Sam,” Embry says where they stand on the edge of the forest, away from the thick smoke that burns her very human eyes. She looks over at the pack leader at the mention of his name. “Now that she’s part of the pack, we have to live the Leah/Sam/Emily painfest all over again.” 

She turns back to him, to Quil, who’s standing beside him, and tilts her head, curious.

“I don’t think I follow—Sam left Leah for Emily?”

“Well, yeah, but it’s not what you think. He hates himself for hurting her, but he couldn’t help it. Emily was ‘the one.’” Quil says it almost sarcastically, with air quotes for emphasis, and she frowns.

“The one?” She doesn’t mean to sound skeptical, but these days she’s not as big a fan of providence and destiny as she used to be.

“Sam imprinted on Emily. It’s kind of like… soulmates, but bigger. Cosmic. They were literally meant to be together.”

“Like fate,” she says, filling in that blank, and then a large, warm hand is splayed across her back, fingertips pressing into the fabric of her dress. 

“We make our own fate around here,” Jacob says tightly, and she looks up, regards him curiously. He’s not just upset about Harry, or Victoria… there’s got to be something else making his jaw tense, his eyes hard. “And I think that’s more than enough of the pack soap opera for tonight. Are you ready to go home?” 

He turns his gaze to her, and it softens, for which she is grateful; he is her guardian on duty tonight, and despite the solemn evening—or maybe because of it—she wants to spend the night as close to him as she possibly can.

She nods, and after they say their goodbyes he walks her to the truck, opens the door for her, closing it carefully when she’s safely inside. He takes the spot behind the driver’s seat—his usual, now—but doesn’t drive straight to her house like she expects. 

“Ice cream?” she asks when he turns off the engine outside of a mom and pop shop selling sundaes, cones, and shakes. She exits the car at his indication, and the two of them walk hand in hand up to the illuminated window that says Order Here. An older couple is ahead of them, pointing at the chalk menu board, and Jacob leans in to speak in a hushed tone. 

“This place was Harry’s favorite. You like chocolate, right?” 

“Has anyone ever answered ‘no’ to that question?” she asks softly, playfully, and it works as intended, lightens the mood just enough to bring a brilliant smile to his painfully beautiful face. “I think this is a wonderful way to remember him, Jake.” She wraps a comforting arm around his, and Jacob nods, lips pressed together, eyes sad.

“Just kind of feels right.” 

He orders for them when it’s their turn, two waffle cones with two scoops of chocolate ice cream each, and they sit at a picnic table on the side of the building, eating their tributes with heavy hearts and looking up at the stars.

The ride home is quiet, contemplative, at least for her; by the time they arrive she has been running through thoughts of mortality, finality, how short life is and how very precious. 

These are all normal thoughts for a person to have, and certainly after a celebration of life like the one on the reservation tonight, but she thinks seriously for the first time about Jacob and his desperate need to protect her, the way he puts himself in danger—stupidly, recklessly, completely—every day to keep her safe.

When they’ve made it inside, she exhales deeply, looks up into earnest, curious eyes, and wraps her arms around him, presses close so she can bury her nose in his clothing.

She breathes him in long and slow, his usual scent of crisp air and rain and oak dulled by the smoke of the bonfire, and then his hands are in her hair, tipping her face up for a decadent, passionate kiss. 

God, how is he so good at this? she thinks as he sips at her lips, glides his own down the tender line of her throat. She sighs and grabs for his arms, something to ground her as her desire threatens to take over, to leave her a whimpering, begging mess beneath his hands. 

Jacob turns them so she’s got her back to the kitchen table, sets her on top of it, and she parts her knees for him, pulls him closer. Her fingers itch with the need to touch his skin, so she tugs at the hem of his shirt and gets her hands beneath it, skims them over the taut muscles of his bare back. 

“I can take it off,” he murmurs against her neck, and she nods breathlessly and helps him pull it over his head. His hands bracket her hips, palms flat on the table, and her arms curve up around his back, bringing him closer; she kisses him eagerly anywhere she can reach—his throat, shoulders, face, everywhere.

She whispers his name into his own skin, presses her lips to his biceps, scrapes her teeth over the lobe of his ear, and he shudders at her touch, tilts his head to look up at her, his eyes dark and almost… dangerous.

What does it say about her, that she finds that look so goddamn attractive?

“I’m sorry, I—I need a minute,” he says, panting through gritted teeth, and she lets her hands fall away, leaning back a little to give him space to breathe.

“Take all the time you need,” she assures him calmly, patiently. It’s the first time she’s ever seen his wolf so close to the surface, and she’s completely unafraid, would hold him and help him ride out the tension in his body if she thought he would let her. “It’s just us, Jake, just me and you.” 

“Just us,” he repeats, his fists clenching and unclenching, taking a long breath with his eyes closed. She breathes with him, has always found that helpful when she herself is overwhelmed, and after a few moments he presses closer and she runs a soothing hand over his chest. “I’m okay,” he says eventually, leaning in slowly for a kiss as though he’s afraid it will be rejected. She brings her hands to his face, deepens it, so it’s still soft and easy but with enough meaning behind it to convey her thoughts. 

“I know,” she murmurs, just to be certain he believes her. “You did so good; so good, Jake.” He nods, pulls back a little so he can look into her eyes. 

“It’s not that I can’t control it, I can, but…” He looks away for a moment, swipes his tongue over his lips. “The instincts are so strong and I don’t always want to fight them. Sometimes when I’m with you, I want to let the wolf win.” He says it like he’s ashamed, and she puts her arm around his shoulders and brings him down for another kiss, this one just a gentle press of mouths.

“I understand that more than you think I do.” His breath on her lips makes her crave more of his heat, but she knows it has to be slow now, or he’ll get too in his head and never let himself enjoy their night together. “I may not be supernaturally inclined, but sometimes making decisions with my body is all I want to do. Especially with you,” she adds, just a sigh between them, then touches their foreheads together. 

They stay like that for a moment, embracing in their own way, until he initiates a kiss that is so thorough it makes her toes curl. She brings her hands to his waist, guides him closer, and he rests a broad palm at the base of her throat and kisses her, again, and again, and again. 

Her arms curl around his body the second they separate for air, and he lifts her from the table, carries her up the stairs with an ease that makes her long for more frequent displays of his strength. 

Getting his clothes off is quick enough, since he’s already shirtless, and his hands are tender and gentle as he sweeps her hair away from her neck, pulls down the zipper of her dress, slides it off her bare shoulders. 

Neither of them bother to pull back the covers, simply lay back on the bed, her knees apart again, Jacob hovering between them and letting his eyes move over her like he’s committing her body to memory. It makes a wave of heat rush through her, and since tonight is less hurried she does the same, lingers over every curve of muscle, every sharp line of bone. He leans in, lays an arm behind her head, glides his lips over her jaw, her cheek, her mouth.

“I was right, before,” she says after another satisfying kiss, letting her fingers press into the flesh of his hips. He looks into her eyes, tilts his head curiously, and she smiles a little, can’t help herself. “You really are beautiful.” 

Jake breathes a laugh, even blushes a little, then kisses her until they’re both panting; her fingertips press harder when he pushes inside, then glide up his back to keep him close while the two of them move together. 

Jacob feels so different this way, is so much deeper, filling her in a way that makes it so she really can’t tell where she ends and he begins. He is heavy on top of her, but not uncomfortably so, and when her body shifts up the bed with every thrust it’s thrilling, incredible—she’s never felt so much in her life.

His face is serious, eyes focused, and she weaves her fingers into his hair and catches his lips in a kiss, moans into the end of it when he finds a spot inside of her that takes her breath away. 

“Oh, god, Jake.” He leans in for another kiss, deep and wet, nods against her lips. 

“You’re perfect—so perfect,” he huffs, breathless; he moves his hand to her hip, runs it over her stomach, then presses his palms to the bed and repeats his previous motion, over and over, her body coiling tight with pleasure. “Can’t believe I get this.” 

“We get this,” she corrects in a whisper, won’t let him think for one second that she’s not as completely in awe of him as he seems to be of her. She skims her nails over his lower back, his ass, tightens her thighs on either side of him and tips her head back just as he makes her come. “Don’t stop, Jake, please,” she whines, shaking, holding him so tightly with her entire body—she never wants it to end, never wants to be separated from him again, and he agrees, if the way his body presses down on hers is any indication. 

“Can’t stop… need you,” he groans, pushing her leg up further, so he feels almost impossibly thick and deep. Her arms wrap around his back, pulling him closer, holding him there as he ruts into her, scorching flesh pressed against flesh. 

“Yes, oh—”

Before she knows it she’s quaking again, gasping when he brings his teeth to her throat, scrapes them over her throbbing pulse. He growls in her ear, a deep, low, animalistic rumble she can feel in her stomach, then comes inside, claiming her with a broken, raspy, “mine.”

He lays half on top of her, half on the bed, after, their skin soft and damp with cooling sweat. She can’t stop looking at his face, his dark eyes, sharp jaw, and he cups her cheek with a gentle palm and gazes just as intently at her. 

“Come here,” she murmurs, a soft smile on her lips, and he kisses her slowly, makes her sigh with a pleasure so complete—mentally, physically, spiritually—it feels like she’ll never be the same. 

He gets up after a moment, comes back with a glass of water and a towel, and helps her clean up well enough to hold her over until she’s ready to get out of bed. She pulls the covers back while he’s gone, slides in between the cool sheets, and he follows her lead, pressing close to her beneath them.

“Are you upset you didn’t imprint on me?” she asks carefully, propping herself up on her elbow and using the other hand to run fingers through his hair. “I noticed that when the guys were talking about it, you got kind of tense.” He shrugs slightly before shaking his head.

“No, not upset… I was just so sure you were meant for me; I really thought it would happen sooner or later.” She understands that, can picture him wishing and waiting for something that would never come to pass. So patient, her Jacob.

“Do you wish it had? Do you think it would make this more real?” Her hand moves from his hair to his collarbone, down his chest, over his stomach, so very low. “Because when I’m touching you like this… nothing has ever felt so real.” 

He presses her against the bed, hovers over her, kisses her breathless, and it goes without saying that he agrees with every word she says. She softens beneath him, tired and pleased, and he shifts into a more comfortable position, laying behind her, that she knows means sleep for the both of them. He drapes an arm over her, and she draws circles into his skin with her fingertips, feels his warm breath on her neck, closes her eyes and revels in the weight of him at her back.

“Anyway,” she whispers, one last thought on her mind before she succumbs to sleep, “I almost think it’s better like this, that we have to fight for each other. No help from fate—just your will and mine.”

A/N: I got my start in fandom spaces by writing Twilight fanfic fifteen years ago, but I never posted it because it was... bad. Last week was a crummy week for me, so I found comfort in watching New Moon, and I literally couldn't help myself from re-writing it in Jacob's favor. There's no Edward hate here, and he'll play a bigger role in the next part I have planned, but Jake took hold of me in this one and didn't let go.

[sstan-hoe]

NAVIGATION

⍣ ೋ TAGS | BLOGS | WEBSITE | AO3 | WATTPAD | CHRISTMAS CHALLENGE

⍣ ೋ TAGLIST | KINKTOBER | VALENTINE'S DAY EVENT | WIP's | MASTERLIST NO. 2 | IDEA DUMP

you are responsible for the kind and amount of media you consume, therefore it is not my problem if you find something you don't like. While I appreciate if you are at least 16, I advice the majority of this blog as 18+

you do not have permission to copy, translate or post my writing on any other website/ app or anything— I do not own the rights to the character = this is for entertainment purposes only! which also means I write when I feel like it.

I'm currently not writing for c.e. characters!!!!

the rest of my characters and series are on masterlist no. 2!

-> s.stan masterlist

Bucky Barnes

𝖧𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗒 𝖡𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗁𝖽𝖺𝗒 ☆ - Today's your birthday and your handsome husband invited his best friend over to gift you a special present.

-> husbands!best friend!bucky | one-shot | smut | ft. andy barber

𝖨'𝗆 𝖭𝗈𝗍 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌 𝖠𝗇𝗒𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 ☆ - Bucky and you had a secret relationship that ended months ago, but there was an unspoken tension between you.

-> brothers best friend!bucky | one-shot | smut

Gift for You

-> normal!bucky | drabble | fluff | valentine's day event

Wine and Take Out

-> mob!bucky | drabble | fluff | valentine's day event

Take My Breath Away ☆ - it's your wedding day, you are marrying the man you love...or are you? he says he loves you, so why is he letting you marry the man he claims is not right for you?

-> stepdad!bucky | one-shot | smut | angst | fluff | moodboard

Angel to Love for Eternity - you're his angel and he will love you for eternity, he does everything for you...it's time to return the favour.

-> vampire!bucky | one-shot | smut | event

The Storm He Calms – with a hot-headed wife like you, Bucky's life was never boring. Add to that, his daughter. Seven years, cute as a button with the temper of her mother.

-> teacher!bucky | one-shot | fluff | smut | moodboard

Steve Kemp

𝖲𝗍𝗈𝖼𝗄𝗁𝗈𝗅𝗆 𝖲𝗒𝗇𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗍'𝗌 𝖲𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝖤𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗌 ☆ - steve gives you stockholm syndrome and well let's just say; you gotta make sure you're his only one....

-> steve kemp | one-shot | smut | dark

Nick Fowler

𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖱𝗈𝗈𝗆 𝖢𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖼 ☆ - nick promised you'd go shopping after you had to punish him for missing yet another date of yours and in a certain store he can't control himself anymore.

-> mob!nick | one-shot | smut | fluff

-> c.evans masterlist

Andy Barber

𝖧𝖾 𝖲𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝖫𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝖧𝖾𝗋 ☆ - he is defending a girl who is charged for murder on three man; she is a criminal, and he is her lawyer who can’t stay away from her knowing what she is.

-> criminal!reader | one-shot | dark

𝖯𝖺𝗒 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝖡𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗂𝗌𝗇'𝗍 ☆ - you catch Laurie cheating on her husband, but what she didn't realize is that payback is indeed a bitch.

-> normal!andy | one-shot | smut

𝖲𝖾𝗑 𝖮𝗇 𝖫𝖾𝗀𝗌 - Andy and you fuck and almost get caught

-> boyfriends dad!andy | drabble | smut

𝖧𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗒 𝖡𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗁𝖽𝖺𝗒 ☆ – today's your birthday and your handsome husband invited his best friend over to gift you a special present

-> husband!andy | one-shot | smut | fluff | ft. bucky barnes

New Louboutins – Andy bought you new shoes and you love them, you wear them everywhere at any chance you get. The only downside is that after a little while they get uncomfortable…

-> husband!andy | one-shot | smut | fluff

Lloyd Hansen

𝖲𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖭𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖢𝗂𝗍𝗒 ☆ - he loved you that night, you didn’t want that night to end but it had to after all he was your mission and you had to finish it…right?

-> normal!lloyd | one-shot | fluff | smut

𝖤𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖲𝗎𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖾 ☆ - you get into a fight with Lloyd because once again he got too overprotective/jealous which ends up in you ignoring him, but he try everything, and I mean everything to get you to talk to him — Aramis the Cat (moodboard)

-> sofft!lloyd | one-shot | fluff | smut

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖳𝗋𝗂𝗉 - you have to go on a work trip and leave Lloyd alone with your cat; Aramis

-> soft!lloyd | drabble | fluff

𝖨𝗍'𝗌 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖬𝖾 𝖥𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 - lloyd comforting you and some other stuff

-> soft!lloyd | one-shot | angst

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖧𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖧𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖮𝗇 𝖬𝖾 - Lloyd also has a gentle side and only if the reader is near him. Lloyd wants to kill/hurr a man in front of a child. The reader tells him that he should not do it - and what the reader says is law.

-> sub!lloyd | one-shot | smut | darkish-fluff

𝖫𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖲𝗅𝗎𝗍 ☆ - you hate him, he hates you, maybe you don't, you fuck each other for money

-> pornstar!lloyd | drabble | smut

𝖬𝗒 𝖡𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝖣𝖺𝖽 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖮𝗇𝖾 ☆ - a short little drabble on your secret relationship with your bestfriends dad or more like daddy ;)

-> best friends dad!lloyd | one-shot | fluff | smut

Ransom Drysdale

𝖡𝗂𝗀 𝖮𝗅𝖾' 𝖲𝗈𝖿𝗍𝗂𝖾 - Ransom can get really soft when he didn’t see Y/N for days 【♥︎】

-> normal!ransom | drabble | fluff

𝖬𝗒 𝖣𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝖡𝖾𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝖱𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗈𝗆 - You loved Ransom and would do anything to keep him, but he didn’t love you as much however sooner or later he will find his way back...

-> normal!ransom | one-shot | dark | event

Ari Levinson

𝖦𝗋𝗈𝖼𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖲𝗁𝗈𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 ☆ - You and Ari are at the grocery store getting your weekly things. You hear a group of girls staring at Ari and whispering as he walks down the islands

-> normal!ari | drabble | fluff

𝖯𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗎𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗍𝗁

-> normal!ari | drabble | smut

Steve Rogers

Give You A Ride – you had your eyes on him for a long time...finally something happens but you have to follow one rule; the cowboy rule...

-> cowboy!steve | one-shot | smut | little fluff

[rennorthernlights]

The World We Knew

Chapter 1: Radioheart, Chapter 2, Chapter 3,

Trigger warnings; Zombies, mentions of death, very brief mention of suicide in the very beginning.

You can also go to AO3 for RenNorthenLights. I post more on there than here. If you go to my AO3 than PLEASE look at the tags for this fic! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

——————————————————————————————

October-ish, 2023. Time??? Location???

It’s become almost routine now.

Waking up at the ass crack of dawn, checking her backpack, cleaning her rifle, making sure the ‘room’ she’s in is safe. Over a year ago she wouldn’t be up this early. Over a year ago she wouldn’t even be touching her fathers rifle without permission. But life has a funny way of throwing curve balls. In this sense, life threw a massive curve ball at everyone and everything. The world as she knew it become sick with disease— No, not COVID-19, though many speculated that it was the reason, the beginning of it all. No it was the dead-come-back-to-life-and eat-your-face kinda disease. Normally people bring up that type of disease in conversations with speculations on the “what if” scenarios of what they’d do.

Many of her college friends all had plans and ideas and yet most of them now roam the streets looking for the next person to chomp on. Ironic isn’t it? She never believed she’d live this long hell many times the conversation of “Quick a zombie apocalypse happens! What do you do?!” She’d laugh and says she’d die in the next month or two. To which her friends would moan and groan because surely “You wouldn’t give up so easily?? Come onnnn what would you actually do.” She’d think it over and before putting much thought, she said.

“I’d kill myself.” Her friends went silent before laughing at how serious she sounded and even she laughed. A good banter back and forth as her college friends sipped on cheap booze. “No, no, but in all seriousness. I’d stay with my parents. My dads a police Captain after all. He’s taught me how to shoot before I could write and my ma… well she’ll probably teach me something.” Snorting a chuckle since her moms a teacher. One of her friends asks what she’d do if her parents became zombies.

“Well I guess I’d try to find groups to stay in. What do y’all think? I guess I’d put up with y’all.” Nudging her friend playfully on the shoulder. Laughter in the room as the music starts playing and the cheep booze starts kicking in. As her friends dance and sing to “Only Girl in the World” by Rihanna she sits on the couch in deep thought. Her drink in hand as she thinks bout her life. Thinks about her finals coming up and how she’s gotta take all the tests to become a nurse. Both her parents were exceptionally happy that she didn’t follow in their footsteps.

“I love kids but please… do not become a teacher.” Her mother sounded so exhausted when they spoke early on the phone. “And don’t become a police officer!” Her father yells in the background. The running joke for every phone call even though her parents are well aware that she’s going to be a nurse. She’s been deadset on it since she was a kid. She doesn’t plan on telling her ma that she’s gonna try and apply to be the school nurse where her ma works. Sipping her booze some more as the apple news on her phone pings “Reports of a New Virus, Scientists say… ”

She huffs, reading the first couple of paragraphs before getting bored and exiting out of the article. “Probably another variant of COVID. Great another shot I’m gonna have to take.” Turning her phone off and chugging her drink before she starts dancing with her giggly and much too drunk friends.

————————————————————

Oh how life turned so fast and so quickly the following week. Nearly half of the friends in the room became the first percentages of “Turned” and the other half “Missing, have you seen them?” She barely made it out herself. But that’s life. Cruel and beautiful and so, so lonely in the world she now knows. She stays too long thinking about it and she’ll drown. She doesn’t want to think about her friends, her home, her… family. It’s still too much even after all this time. Even with it being well over a year it still hurts.

Shaking her head of those thoughts as she gets situated. Glad that she triple checked the ‘room’ she’s in. Her anxiety has been through the roof these last couple days and every lil noise is having her jump. At least she can put her mind at ease since she’s checked and barricaded the exit. A couple deads outside that she handled quickly. Who knew that she’s be so proficient with a bat and knife? She’s a good shot but before a to keep her rifle hidden. Not many bullets being made anyways..

She turns her radio on as she waits for it to come to life. For months she been speaking on it. Using it as a dairy of sorts, it helps her when she feels the loneliest. Helps when the days feel colder than what it typically does in Texas. She spoke and spoke until one day it started speaking back. The man on the radio commented how he’s been hearing her speak and at first, he and his group thought it was a hoax since they couldn’t get the radio to work. She didn’t speak on it for days, but the men would still speak back and call out to her.

Finally, she worked up the courage to speak back and from then on, they’ve become a part of her routine. Once a day around noon they’d speak. She has her rules, No names, no locations, no descriptions. She doesn’t want to get attached only to one day not hear them speak back again. She doesn’t need another name added to her list of grief. That, and as much as she wants to trust them, she knows that humans can be just as dangerous if not more so.

“Static, come in Static.” She grins as she sits in the office room that she’s been sleeping in. Stretching her legs as she’s never gotten used to the floors even after all this time. Her legs stiff as her other hand rubs her knee. The radio crinkles and scratches until finally.

“Must you keep calling me that?” The man speaks, the heavy Scottish accent shining through, and she can just tell he’s grinning. “I’ve told ya, mah name is Joh- “

“No,” she cuts him off as she clicks on the button. “No names. I don’t... I don’t want to hear it, please.” She’s told him before that she doesn’t want to hear his name. He’s been understanding but sometimes he’ll still try it... The thought that there is an actual person behind the radio scares her and intrigues her. Hearing someone even through all this mess makes it all bearable even if it’s just by a little bit. “Don’t make me ‘hang up’.” A lighthearted threat. She wouldn’t actually do that. She needs her daily talks with them.

“I know, Bonnie, I know,” the voice speaks with understanding. The man knows all too well on why it’s easier to stay nameless, easier to not be attached incase the voice one day doesn’t speak back. “But one day I would love ta hear my name from your pretty voice.” The voice chuckles, “Where are ya now?” A hopeful tinged to his voice.

“You know I don’t give locations, Static.” Singing back her words with a furrow of her brow. “But… I’m in an office building.”

“Ah, I see that’s become a fan favorite of yours.” A tease in the man’s voice. “Oh, it seems my friend wants to speak to ya.” Her eyes perk up as she knows who is about to speak.

“Electricity!” She smiles big and she just knows Static is rolling his eyes.

“Sunshine haven’t heard from you since, Static,” emphasizing the other man’s nickname and she can practically hear the glare. “has been hogging you.” Electricity, as she’s been calling him even though he’s also tried to get her to call him by his name, has a much softer voice. Calmer and levelheaded compared to Static who's more outgoing and louder. She’s called them the duo 1 and duo 2 before she called them Static and Electricity. Much to their annoyance and amusement, much better than her other idea of calling them Thing 1 and Thing 2.

“Well next time hit him or something.” She smiles as she can hear Static mouthing off something. Probably Static telling him where she’s been in for a bit. “In an office building again? That seems to be your usual, yeah?” The man speaks lowly. His words concerned and yet with the subtleness of memorizing something.

“Am I that predictable, Electricity? She stands up from where she was sitting. “Static said something similar.”

“Not predictable just doing what you always do, Sunshine.”

“That’s… That means I’m being predictable.” She teases as he stammers.

“No, no, I meant that you are more comfortable with what you know to be safe.”

“Soooo predictable with my safety?” She teases as she can hear him muttering “bollocks” like he always does when, she assumes, he is flustered. “I’m pulling your leg, Electricity. Just messing around and being a brat.”

He laughs and sighs in relief. His voice cool like the summer breeze after a rainy day. “So where are you?” His voice sounding slightly insistent.

“No where near you.” Rolling her eyes as they always ask the same questions everytime they talk. “Quit askin, I’m fine on my own. I don’t do groups and you know why.” She’s told them about her run in with the only group she’s been with. Handmaidens Tale meet zombie apocalypse and she barely got out.

“I know, I know, you’ve done well on your own, but a little help goes a long way, Sunny.” Sometimes she wishes she would hate the nicknames that they give her but it does give a warm fuzziness in her stomach whenever they say it. Sighing as she speaks back. “Oh yes because you’re military right?” A bit of sarcasm in her voice as this is one of her questions that she always asks.

“Taskforce 141, Special Operation Forces, you already know this, Lass.” The other man speaks making her jolt. Guess he was listening in when she was speaking to Electricity.

“Yeah, yeah, just making sure you’re not lying and trying to sound more badass than you both already do.” Remarking quickly as a light blush spread on her face. The way he’s speaking sounds deeper. Like she’s in trouble somehow and he’s going to correct her.

“We know, Sunshine, we know you just want to be safe. It’s hard to trust especially with the dead around.” Electricity’s speaks softly, the cool to Static’s heat, “But to say it again; Joh— I mean, Static, is a Sergeant and I am also a Sergeant. Static is an expert in demolitions and trained as a sniper. I myself am an expert with prime target eliminations and covert surveillance.” He says it so sincerely and she has half a mind to believe him.

“And why are you all the way in Texas then?” They’ve told her how they moved up here and she knows the reason, but she wants them to say it again.

“We received word that a base, Fort Sam Houston, was working on a cure for the zombie virus. The BAMC is a hospital within that fort that was conducting research.” Electricity sites off the very thing that they’ve repeated for the last month.

“And?” She makes a go on motion that they can’t see but she knows that they can imagine that’s what she’s doing.

“But when we got there it was already over run and Kyl— I mean Electricity almost got killed in the process.” Static says, he sounds upset. “We’ve been over this, Lass. We tell you about the same things over and over again.” A hushed murmur from Electricity is heard and she starts feels bad.

“I know… I’m sorry, I just...” she starts off as she tries to not sound upset. “I just want to make sure that I can trust you. Last time I did...”

“Handmaidens tale, you’ve told us about it. The leader, Abraham, is a far-right Christian, yes?” Static says the man’s name and she shivers as she gives a tiny yes in reply. “He tried to keep you. To force you to stay with his group and be treated as a... how did you say it?”

“A breading cow.”

“Yes, that,” he sighs deeply on the radio, and she wonders what he and Electricity looks like. Wonders if they are as comforting as their warm voices. Wonders if they have beards or stubbles but her self-imposed rules keep her from asking. “I know it’s a lot, learnin ta trust when it's hard to. We’ve promised since the beginnin ta be honest and if I ever see him.” The threat is laced in his voice but he clears his throat. “Enough of that. We are finally moving to Houston. We acquired a car. A Jeep to be more precise. Any chance we’ll be near ya?”

“You might be…” she says softly as she bites her tongue. The urge to let them come to her gets harder and harder to say no to everyday they speak. “I don’t give locations, Static.”

“I know but can’t blame a man for trying. Oh?” She can hear his eyebrows furrowing as voices in the background speak. They’ve told her that they are a group of 4 in total. She’s never heard the other 2 speak but she can sometimes hear them… they sound funny. “It seems we have to cut this shorter, Bonnie.”

“We’ll speak again tomorrow, Sunshine, we promise.” The other man promises, and she knows they will. They’ve never broken a promise. Never did more than what they couldn’t do from the month that they’ve talked.

“I’ll see you both tomorrow and please,” she stresses the word as she hopes and prays that one day they can meet. That she’ll be brave enough to let them in and find her. “Please be safe. Please don’t get hurt, okay? I’ll metaphorically hit you, I swear I will.”

“Always, Bonnie, we will always be safe. Take care and check corners and windows. Make sure you can quickly get’n and out. Don’t go’n if your gut tells ya not to.” Static says, listing off his advice like he would to a fresh-faced recruit. “Don’t play fair and don’t play kind. Everyone’s an enemy until proven otherwise.” He waits a couple seconds before he passes it to the other man.

“Make sure to pack light and that you can easily grasp your weapon.” Electricity warns. A deep sigh from him before he speaks, “And if you ever… if you ever need help, just... please just tell us. We’ll do whatever we can to come for you, okay?” He waits and waits for her to speak but when she doesn’t, he sighs. He waits another minute and then the radio turns to static signaling the end of their conversation.

“I know,” she says softly as she hears the static of the radio. “Be safe, please be safe.” She murmurs the bits of name that she has overheard them say. Going against her own rules of not saying their names even though she knows it’s half of what their names are. She’s gotten too attached and now… now she’s worried. Worried for men she’s never met and probably never will.

“One can dream,” she rolls her shoulders and bends to stretch. Her stomach growling as she knows it’s about time to eat. Pulling her backpack on the office desk and opening it. A couple cans of food and jerky from gas stations. 2 water bottles and a simple medkit along with an extra shirt and pants. “Okay… raviolis or beans….” Humming as sits and pops open the beans. “I’ll save the raviolis for a special day.”

She’s sat for too long on her ass now it’s time to get a move on. Can’t stay for too long in the same places. Always gotta keep moving to different places. Curse the anxiety that still makes her think that a zombie is around every corner. Guess that’s what she’s been alive for so long.

[butcherlarry]

Canon: Clark explores his sexuality in college with a mermaid. Fanon: Clark explores his sexuality in college with Bruce. Superbat fanon "Clark" is always so boring

Hmmm, gotta say Anon, I'm digging into my past experience as a college TA, and I'm going to have you give you a bad grade in asks. The tone you are using in this ask is very negative and condescending. It doesn't really make me want to go out and find this canon example of Clark and a mermaid in college. To improve this ask, I would have spun it a different way. Maybe along the lines of "Hello! If you enjoyed the fic "Padam", I have a canon suggestion for you! In the Superman comics, he dates a mermaid in college, which I think is a fascinating way to explore your sexuality." I would then include the issues where this happens and, if possible, a link to them (maybe through free comics online?). This would be a much better ask, because the tone is more positive, you're not bashing a ship that someone enjoys, and it gets people interested in the comics that you enjoy!

On a side note, I really enjoy the fic "Padam". It has one of my favorite parings (Superbat), is inspired by beautiful art created by the artist januariat, and is written by a friend of mine, @halehathnofury. And the summary "Clark explores his sexuality in college with Bruce" doesn't really give the fic justice. In the fic, Clark has gone from small, rural Kansas town Smallville, to larger urban city Metropolis. He's learning about how being queer in both those environments are different, and learning how to present himself, on top of being an alien with superpowers who doesn't want to be discovered by the wrong type of people. He's traveling to gay clubs, meeting new people across the spectrum of queerness, and discovering new kinks to explore. And there's Bruce, who is younger in this fic, getting into the swing of Batmanning, while presenting a facade of an air-headed, spoiled young billionaire, looking for a new person to take home. And those two find each other, learn about each other, and develop feelings about it. And it's fascinating to me how they each go about and deal with these feeling they have for each other, because they attack them in different ways.

To me, this has been a fun fic to read as it has been updating, and I'm always happy when it does. If that doesn't interest you, Anon, then that's fine! Don't read it! If you don't like the Superbat ship, that's ok too! It is possible for you to block that tag on Tumblr so you don't have to see it. I do this for a few tags too on this site. Also, when searching for fic on AO3, you can also exclude the pairing of Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne if you are not interested in reading those fics.

If you are disappointed in the lack of "Clark discovering his sexuality with people who are not Bruce Wayne", I would suggest to write your own fic. Be the change you want to see! You might discover you really enjoy writing fic, and find an audience who wants to read the type of fic you write too!

I hope the advice at the top has been helpful for you to craft better asks, and that you have better luck finding fics you enjoy reading AO3, or whatever fanfic reading site you use. And I'm being genuine about you trying to write your own fic. If you want to grow a fandom you are in, you need to participate in the fandom, in a positive way. It took me a long time to learn this, dear Anon, and I hope you learn it sooner than I did.

Happy reading!

[valkyrayn]

Pairing: Marius von Hagen x afab!reader

Words: 3,724

Tags: mild dubcon, angst and porn, jealousy, unprotected sex, dirty talk, creampie, loud sex, rough sex, oral sex, porn with plot (with plot you say? and the crowd cheers)

A/N: i think there are a few from the prompt requests here. writing this was a sport lmao anyway, sorry for the long hiatus. gotta thank Marius for consistently being the horny mascot and reawakening the horny in me with his new card releases. also i’d like to hear your thoughts if i should continue this(?)

also posted on ao3 if you wanna leave comments! 💜

Betrayal is one way to put it.

But god you can’t seem to stop. You can’t seem to get enough of this—of him .

No, it’s not betrayal. As long as they don’t find out…

…that you’re fucking the enemy. Not even in the ‘I’ll destroy his life’ kind of way but literal, actual, fucking. And it’s obscene too—just pure unadulterated passion, the kind that leaves you both in a sweaty mess of entangled limbs and reeking of guilt by the end of it. Although it’s mostly you who deals with the guilt, never him. 

And by god you know how bad this is, to sleep with him of all people. 

Because he is no longer part of the NXX. 

Marius von Hagen had blindsided the whole team, to say the least. 

See, the funny thing is, you only started having sex with him after finding out that he has betrayed the group. Maybe it’s the thrill of sleeping with the enemy. Maybe because the sex is so good that the mere sight of his smirk makes your cunt throb. Maybe it’s simply because it’s him.

It was difficult to ignore the growing tension, sexual tension, much to your dismay, between the two of you ever since your first encounter. And it was left brewing for way too long—to a point where it can no longer be contained. 

And when it finally happened, it was spilling all over the edges.

And as much as you despise him, you still find yourself at his beck and call. And you hate the grip that he has on you, especially when he calls you his ‘good little slut’ as he pushes your head down on his cock.

But tonight, you’re on a mission. The voice inside your head reminding you like a broken record ‘to not get distracted. This is an in and out mission.’ Swipe the file and exit the building. Simple. Right?

You spoke too soon.

Marius is here. Fuck. 

You meet his dark violet eyes from across the room—he’s just entered the room and is immediately surrounded by the directors and VIPs like moths to a flame. Your eyes lock briefly and he stares at you with a bored expression, seemingly unbothered with your presence. 

A lady in a sequined dress is now standing by his side, looping her arm over his, her other hand reaching over to fix his collar—there isn’t even a need to, she just needed an excuse to touch him. That bitch has appeared in more than one tabloid news involving Marius. 

‘Youngest von Hagen heir’s future wife?’  

‘PAX CEO new beau?’

‘Hot affair: International Runway Model & Stellis Sexiest Eligible Bachelor’

Vom’. Your grip around the champagne glass tightens at the sight. Fortunately, you catch yourself almost immediately before it shatters all over your hand. The last thing you want to do is make a scene. 

Is this jealousy? No. She just looks annoying as hell. 

So you turn away and make your way out of the ballroom, slipping out of the doors just as the master of ceremony starts speaking over the microphone. 

—----------

The second the file transfer icon disappears from the screen, you unplug the drive from its port and turn off the computer—with still a lot more time to spare. You can rejoin the banquet and even mingle with the men just to spite Marius. With that thought in mind, you smile to yourself as you slip the thumb drive inside the tiny designated pocket in your brassiere.  

“I knew I’d find you in here, jiejie.”

The familiar voice startles you but you remain in your spot, turned away from him. You can feel his eyes on you making the hair stand on the back of your neck. And it’s when you hear the click of the lock that you finally turn to look at him—his back is leaned against the closed door, arms crossed with that sly smirk playing on his lips.

“Give me the drive. I know you have it on you…” He says finally, breaking the brief silence as he pushes himself off the door and starts walking towards you. How naive of you for thinking he wouldn’t have followed you here. He’s not stupid. He’s always five steps ahead of you.

Marius closes in the distance between you, trapping your body against the desk—his tall frame looming over you, his familiar scent clouding your senses. “Or should I...take it from you…” his words turn into a whisper as he leans down and kisses the side of your neck. “…but I won’t be gentle.”

He’s mocking you. You hear your thoughts screaming at you, to refuse him. 

You push him away, willing yourself to not fall into his trap again this time. Your team is counting on you , you can’t let him take away the drive. Not this time…not…

” —ah Marius …what are you…” 

His hand has found its way under your dress, long slender fingers now playing with the hem of your panties. Despite your earlier protest, you feel your resolve slowly crumbling against his touch. 

“Hmm…did you hide it here...” His breath is hot against your ear and your body falls limp against his as it gradually gives in to his touch. He chuckles. “You didn’t put it inside you, did you…?” He slots his leg between you, forcing your thighs apart and starts grinding his knee against your clothed pussy. A moan escapes you at the sudden friction, your hand lands on his chest, gripping onto his shirt in a weak attempt to push him away—but who are you kidding, you’re barely putting any force.

“Fuck you…I’m not giving it to you…” You’re surprised at your retort but he laughs at this. Honestly, you’d laugh at yourself too. Both of you know too well that this is going to end up with you giving him the drive after letting him fuck you senseless. 

“Mmm fuck you too…” His low growl makes your cunt throb and before you have a chance to speak once again, he grabs onto the back of your neck and pulls you into a searing kiss. Your teeth clash, his tongue messily entwining with yours until you finally give in, reciprocating just as hungrily as you swallow his every breath and moan. 

Your resolve is weak against the drug that is Marius von Hagen and it only takes one kiss to completely tear it down. You hate him, you hate this but it feels so good...too good to stop. His kiss is deep and passionate with lust and hatred, but never love. Why would it be anyway?

He pulls your head back by the hair, releasing you from the kiss and reminding you to breathe. For a brief moment, you both just stand there, eyes locked, hearing nothing but the sound of your labored breathing. You press both your palms against his chest, using him as a support as you push yourself off the desk, your eyes locked on his own the entire time. 

There’s a glint in his eye, almost as if he’s willing to let you go if you wish to. Your grip tighten against his shirt and all he does is watch you as you wage the war inside your head. The consequences, the guilt that you’ll have to deal with will be immense. 

And even with all things considered, you sigh—and slide your hands down his body and stop right at his belt before looking back up at him. 

“I fucking hate you.” 

Without warning, Marius turns your body around and bends you over—your ass in the air and your feet and palms flat on the floor, presented to him like a prized whore. He’s bent and fucked you in numerous positions before, taking advantage of your flexibility. “…there’s only so many places where you can hide it.” 

You feel him push the skirt of your dress up your body, bunching it around your waist before gripping onto it to keep you steady. He wastes no time in pulling your panties down, exposing your embarrassingly soaking cunt to him, leaving no room for you to deny that you want him. 

You hear him curse under his breath at the sight and it takes all of him not to immediately shove his cock into your wet heat. He prefers to savor you first.

He plunges his fingers inside your cunt, before leaning in to suck onto your clit—earning him a strangled moan from you. His tongue is hot against your folds, lapping and suckling onto it hungrily, determined to make you cum in his mouth. He loves the way your legs tremble just from the way he’s eating you out. 

“Mmmph…you taste so goo–” He moans against your pussy, the vibration shooting electric up your spine, cutting your words off with a gasp. Your cunt starts clenching wildly around his tongue, desperately needing him deeper. He hooks his fingers inside you and hits you at the exact spot where you want him to, instantly making you gush around him. He laps onto your dripping pussy, swallowing your essence as he starts working on unbuckling his belt. 

He winces as he pulls out his cock from his pants, hard and erected, balls heavy, aching to unload deep inside your womb. He continues to make you cum with his mouth several more times before finally pulling you off the floor and placing you back onto the cold surface of the desk. You look at him through half lidded eyes, mind still dazed from the orgasms he’s put your body through. 

“You’re beautiful…” he says it so casually that you almost missed it. His large hands presses against your inner thighs, spreading your legs open for him to finally fuck you. And just as he lines up his tip against your entrance, you press your palm on his chest, lightly pushing him away. 

“Is that what you say to her as well?” 

Marius freezes in his spot for a second, as if trying to process what you had just asked. When the realization sinks in, you see his lips curl into a smirk. 

“Don’t you think she is?”

You raise your eyebrow. “Think she’s what ?”

“Beautiful?”

You can’t help but let out a scoff. You push him against the chest with both your hands now, ready to leave. This shouldn’t bother you the way it does, but it stings regardless if you have feelings for him or not. 

“If you think she is, then why are you here?”

Just as you’re about to push yourself off the desk, he grabs onto your shoulders and pins you flat against the surface, knocking the breath out of you. “Get off me! You—“

And then he’s kissing you again, his mouth swallowing the curses leaving your lips intended for him, his body heavy and pinning you down with nowhere to move. And when he finally pulls away, his eyes bore into you—your death stare mirroring his and if looks could kill, you’d both be dead by now.

“I shouldn’t have let you fuck me..” you manage to say through gritted teeth, that familiar anger returning to your senses. He looks unfazed, used to hearing you say that every time and yet you come right back to him. So instead, he smiles, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear as he leans in to whisper next to it.

“Then why did you?”

Before you could spit back, you’re both interrupted by the voice of the woman in question—just right outside the door.

“Marius? Love? Are you in there? ” Her sing songy voice makes you roll your eyes. Marius seems unbothered, his eyes never leaving you even as you break eye contact. A small whimper escapes your lips when you suddenly feel his cock pressing against you once again due to the proximity. Realizing this, he immediately makes a move to push himself off of you only to be stopped with your legs wrapping around his waist. 

Make up your damn mind, woman—the voice in your head is all but done with you. But this is your chance, to claim what’s yours.

“Fuck me. Fuck me right now..” You can’t believe what you just said but your mouth and body are now acting against your will. “Use me, Marius. Please, ruin me..” 

Though confused and simultaneously aroused, Marius was more than happy to oblige. He wastes no time, lining the tip of his cock once again on your entrance before sheathing himself fully inside, making you both moan in unison. “Oh my god..yes you feel so good inside me!” You moan a little bit louder than necessary, causing him to raise an eyebrow at you. 

“Umm…Marius? Are you in there..?” The woman asks, her voice muffled by the door—thin enough that the noise from inside the room can still bleed into the hallways, which is perfect. You want her to hear you.

Still unbothered by her inquiries, Marius pulls down the front of your dress to expose your tits to him, freeing them from their confines so they can bounce wildly in rhythm to his hard pounding. He leans in to suck on a nipple, making your body jerk against him.

Small fingers threading through his hair, you pull him closer, needing to feel his entire body against you, to feel his sweat on your skin. He grabs onto your ass, adjusting you to an angle that allows him to push deeper inside you. 

“Nngh...you’re still so tight…I just fucked you two days ago…” Your walls clench at his words, pulling out a strangled moan from him. It feels like heaven, impaled on his cock like this, your body shaking at every push and pull. You’re high just from the sound, the smell, the sensation—and for a second you even convince yourself that what you have between you is more than just lust and hate. 

The door knob rattles, pulling you out of your ludicrous thoughts, hitting you with the realization that the woman is still out there. Too used in keeping it down, since you both are always fucking in secret, you forgot the real reason why you were doing this in the first place. 

“Deeper.. harder Marius!” His eyes widen at your command, but he pulls back and pushes your knees to your chest allowing him to slam his hips harder against you. 

“Mmm jiejie..you’re so loud.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?”

He laughs, his cock bumping against your cervix and your body instinctively pushes him away only for him to grab your ass and roughly pull you back against him. The scream that came out of you then is not on purpose—and you’re sure as hell everyone in the building could hear that. 

“Mmph—fuck! Marius, too deep!”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” he smirks, a little too proud of himself for using your own words against you.

The desk starts moving beneath you from the force of his pounding—he fucks you like he hates you (which makes it easy for him because you assume he does), with your entire body in the mercy of his hands. His eyes are fixated on where you’re connected, reveling at the sight of your cunt creaming around his cock as he pushes in and out—changing his pace to hit you at the right spot every time. 

“Marius..Mariu—I’m cumming..” 

He suddenly pulls out of you and turns your body around before pushing you back onto the desk—the cold surface of the wood against your erect nipples making you shiver. He grabs onto the dress bunched around your waist for leverage as he sinks his huge cock back inside your dripping pussy—cursing into the ceiling at the way your cunt stretches to accommodate him. “Shit…fuck!”

“Nnnghh…please Marius..let me cum! I want to...feel…want you...inside...” you’re mumbling, mind reduced to incoherence. He grabs a fist of your hair and pulls you back, arching your back towards him until you’re close enough for him to lean in and lick the side of your neck. 

“Mmm..you can’t keep your pretty mouth shut, can you?” He shoves two of his fingers inside your mouth, making you drool on him as you run your tongue along his digits. “You want the people outside to hear you?” His other hand now on your heaving chest, grabbing onto your breast to play with your sensitive nipple, coating it with your saliva.

“Mmphh… please… ”

“Please what?”

“Please make me cum…”

“Louder.”

“Please I want to…I wanna…”

“She can’t hear you.”

Something snaps in you then. You reach your arm behind you to grab onto his hair and tug him down, forcing him to release his own grip from your hair. 

“Marius please fucking make me cum, you asshole!” 

“That’s my good girl…” 

He pulls away and presses onto the side of your head, planting your cheek against the desk with one hand grabbing onto your ass, spreading you open so he can watch his cock sink into you. “Mmph…fuck baby. Your pussy is so greedy for my cock swallowing me full like this…” The obscene squelching noise of him fucking your soaking cunt is sending him closer to the edge. But he wants this to last longer, wants you to cum for him before he’ll even allow himself to. 

His hips slam repeatedly against your ass, the next one harder than before. The feet of the desk screeches against the tiled floor as it gets pushed further towards the wall. Your nails sink into the edge of the desk, holding onto it for dear life, willing your body to him as he fucks you until you’re braindead. You’ve given up on words, the only noise leaving your mouth are strangled moans and screams of his name until you finally cum around him, squirting uncontrollably as he keeps fucking into your hole with punishing thrusts. 

“I love how hard you can take it…such a good fucking girl…keep cumming for me…just like that…” His fingers are now circling your clit, stimulating you even further as if your body isn’t still sensitive enough from the explosive orgasm. You thrash beneath him as his pace slows down but now he’s pushing even deeper, ridge and veins brushing against your insides.  

The rattling of the door knob becomes more aggressive, now accompanied by loud knocks on the door. But you can’t hear her voice anymore, drowned out completely by Marius’ heavy breathing next to your ear. He pulls you up and tilts your head towards him, his eyes boring into yours, dark amethyst eyes filled with lust. 

“Just keep your eyes on me.”

You feel your heart clench—it’s a fleeting moment but for a second, it feels different.  

He presses his lips against yours and you melt instantly into the kiss, both your eyes fluttering close as you feel him spill inside you. The warmth of his seed filling your womb triggers another orgasm, the kind that sends your eyes rolling to the back of your skull. You both moan into each other's mouths at the release, your cunt clenching tightly around his twitching cock as he continues to shoot his semen inside your walls. 

He pulls out and brushes the tip of his cock against your thigh, pumping out the last few drops of his cum and smearing it on your skin, as if to mark you with his scent. 

Your body falls weakly onto the desk and he steps back to admire your ruined appearance. Tousled hair, dress disheveled, panties on one side of your ankle and cunt dripping with his cum. 

Guilt. 

He always feels guilty by the end of it, but his face will never show it. And to further cover it up, he steps back towards you and turns you around only to sheathe his cock back inside you. You make no effort to protest, you’re the one who told him to use your body as he pleases. Your breathy moans fill the room as he begins to fuck you again. No words spoken this time; just mewls and grunts and lewd sounds that your bodies make. 

This goes on until the noise outside the door finally stops. She’s probably given up; good.

And when you’re both finally satiated, he finally steps away from you. Standing quietly, a few feet apart from each other as you both tidy yourselves up. Although you opt to not wipe the combined fluids in between your thighs, to serve as a reminder that you’ve once again slept with the enemy.

He leaves the room first, standing tall and unashamedly confident as if he hadn’t just spent the past hour fucking you to oblivion—you, a woman he’s not betrothed to. You watch as the door closes behind him before letting out the biggest sigh. Your heart hurts. So much for thinking that you’re numb to these emotions but as you leave the room and see the woman next to him, you know you were far from being numb. 

She catches you staring and rolls her eyes before running her fingers through his hair to fix it, acting all unbothered, as if she hadn’t just heard your screams of pleasure from behind the door caused by the very man she claims as hers. But a side piece like you doesn't phase her; she’s on a mission of her own and that is to make Marius hers.

Your mission? 

Not to become attached to him. Failed. 

To obtain the info and bring the drive. Fail—

You feel an object poking at you through the hidden slit of your dress. Strange. You pull it out and inspect it—it’s the drive. 

You lean against the wall behind you as you clutch onto the small object against your chest, mind reeling. You saw him take it from you; saw him putting it inside his pocket so then why—

The vibrating sound of your phone startles you. It’s a text from an unknown (but familiar) number.

“take the W. but i won’t go easy on you next time.”

You scoff. This was far from over. 

[spitdrunken]

I am keeping this post out of the main tags, and putting everything about it under a cut! This one’s for you anon, you probably know who you are <3 Please be warned, this Adam post contains conversion rpe / noncon, homophobia, misogyny, and character death mentioned/implied. Please don’t read this to trigger or upset yourself.

conversion with adam is so horrendous and so hot to think abt asjdfkdsfn. because he's absolutely the kind of guy that'd try imagine him stringing along a sinner reader. convincing them he can get them into heaven (and maybe he can but not for good reasons) but he lies and makes out the only way he can pull it off is if they become straight. and the only way to prove that is rounds of getting fucked into the ground and bred by him i feel kind of guilty sharing that haha not trans so i haven't read detransition works but i like the opposite where the character doesn't want to date a woman and so forces them to become a man. i mostly just write that though because i can't find it how i like it

Don’t feel guilty!! I get it but you don’t need to feel that <3 and I haven’t read what you mentioned! But I totally get writing that stuff yourself, cuz it’s hard to find stuff that Exactly fulfills your desires

He really would try :’)! Adam would attempt it during the extermination, where you’re already horrendously stressed out, because of all the, y’know all the people being killed all around you.

You, in one way or another, end up at the other end of one of Adam's blasts, but , rather than immediately killing you, he can tell you're pretty hot. For a fucking sinner, at least. He's no stranger to raping a couple of chicks during an extermination, like, who cares if they're about to die in a couple of minutes anyway? But maybe he wants to play a little game this time around. (With a high chance of him getting bored just as quickly.)

You squeeze your eyes shut, readying yourself for an impact that never arrives. Instead, when you hesitantly look back out through your squinted eyelids, you are greeted by an angel leering above you.

Adam would tell you that with just one look, he could tell that a pretty bitch like you doesn’t belong here at all! There must’ve been some mistake somewhere, yeah, yeah… You belong up in Heaven, babe. And about half of you knows that this has to be bullshit, but you’ve seen friends and strangers alike die in front of your eyes today, and you are desperate to clutch at any straws, so you listen. There’s just one little thing you gotta do, he tells you.

And… What’s that? You ask, a little breathless, trying to hide your shaking. To no avail.

Adam hums for a moment, a grin flickering across his face, before a hand cups over his mouth, a finger rubbing at his chin as if he were deep in thought. You gotta get some ‘angelic essence’ inside you. Heh. In other words, us, yes, us two, are going to need to fuck. Right here. Right now.

If this were any other situation, you’d be tempted to flip him off, laugh in his face until you were close to tears, and get the hell out of there. But he could kill you with a snap of his fingers. Even then, this specific scenario comes out of left field.

I don’t… I— I’m not attracted to men. Sorry? You end up sputtering. Do… Female angels—

Adam cuts you off before you can finish. Yeah, well, not being ‘attracted to men’ is kinda part of the problem here, babe. Why do you think you’re down here?

You really don't want to do this. You'd rather take an angelic blast to the face. I… Can I not? You say, after swallowing the nervous spit accumulated in your mouth.

"Well, duh, of course you can say no! But I guess that would mean you're not really dedicated to getting into Heaven, and you'd rather stay a demon forever, huh?" He hisses out a breath through grit teeth, as if he's just about to tell you horrible news. "And that means… I gotta kill you, babe. That's just how things work! Either you get fucked by me right here and now, or I blast your soul to little pieces. Is that clear enough for you?"

And that’s how you end up on your stomach, in the middle of corpses and rubble, pants and underwear shimmied down to around your knees. Little rocks scraping at your skin with every thrust, your insides burning with pain. Not so unenthusiastic after all, huh? Adam pants out. I can feel you getting fucking wetter. Stupid bitch. You think any ‘wetness’ in between your legs right now could only be blood.

Adam usually couldn’t care less about his partner’s pleasure, much less when it comes to a sinner such as yourself, but he wants to prove a point here. He wants to have a man such as himself make you feel good, and scramble that brain of yours for the rest of your existence. So, as you sob, a hand clumsily starts to rub in the general area of your clit, eventually figuring out exactly where to touch. He laughs and laughs and laughs as you tighten up around him and beg and plead for him to stop— But he chooses to interpret it as telling him to continue.

Greedy bitch, he hisses out. All you needed was a bit of cock to set your mind straight— I’ll make you cum, don’t you fucking worry. But he finishes before you, filling you up with rope after rope of hot cum, as you shudder and shiver in disgust underneath him. And he does make you cum. It feels more like a release of pressure rather than anything pleasurable, though you can’t stop the strangled cry leaving your mouth, or the convulsion of your inner walls.

Adam pulls out of you, laughter still on his lips. Pity to have to kill a decent pussy such as this one. Ah, well, whatever. And—

[amethystfairy1]

What I'm getting from the hermit-a-day-may s is that now there are a lot more characters in ttsbc mainly that we just have to wait to see more of

And they are all amazing as well so I can't wait

Btw what's next in the rotation for ttsbc?

(I really should start binging tt at some point cause rn I haven't and I found you through ttsbc but my finals are starting soon so I've decided I'll wait until they are finished, trying to be reasonable here, I should work)

I'm so glad you're enjoying all the new characters in TTSBC thanks to Hermit-a-Day May!

I will say, for a lot of these guys, they probably won't show up again in anything beyond minor roles in the background of our main storylines...y'know, probably. I make no promises, because my main promise to myself with both my AUs is that I'm gonna write what I feel like writing at any given time...that's why I've been able to continue writing both of them so frequently without feeling bored or burned out, I'm still just as thrilled and giddy and excited to work on my AUs as I was when I started them both!

Next for TTSBC? To be completely honest, I'm not sure 😆 I have a few multi-chapter stories in the works, one of which is done, another of which is nearly done, just gotta decide which one I wanna put out next.

I've mentioned in other places, but I'm planning to use the rest of May to work on TT while adding to TTSBC with the Hermit-a-Day fics! I'm just really in the mood to work on TT right this second for some reason, plus like 90% of the Hermit-a-Day fics take place in TTSBC, so it's not like that AU is getting neglected 😆 So once you escape finals then I think now would be a great time to start binging TT! Please read the tags as you do, I'm sure you've seen my rambling about how it's got some dark themes in it. I'm very proud of how it's coming out! I hope you enjoy it! 💖

[notgonnaedit]

Given to Fly

Truths

Summary: Martha "Marty" Thorne was a basic teenager, a little antisocial maybe. But her life changed the day she met the Autobots and joined them in their fight.

Pairing: Optimius x Teen!OFC (Platonic)

Chapter summary: Marty learns the truth about her father. The truth is hard, but sometimes its comforting.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, Marty is straight up not having a good time, mentions of prison, Dadimus, Uncle Joe is the best, (If I miss a tag LMK)

Updates are sporadic. If you want to be tagged LMK

@dreamsight73

a/n: This chapter takes place during the episode "Speed Metal" but I pretty much cut that out in order to do some Marty stuff. It's still in the background, but I didn't even watch that episode when I wrote this since the only bit of Optimius in it is just him being suspicious of Miko and Raf covering for Jack. I changed the chapter name to be more fitting, and there's a few background mentions of Speed Metal's plot, but other than that, it's all Marty. When I was writing Optimius' speech I felt like I was writing something from the Bible. I guess Optimius is kinda the Jesus of Transformers lol.

Master list

Uncle Joe :)

A crease formed in Marty's brow as she glazed over the article. Researching anything related to her father was the top priority, even if it meant disregarding sleep. Her laptop screen casted a blue glow over her face, and the time read well into the early morning hours.

But she needed answers.

Uncle Joe had said her father worked for a high maintenance company, but he never said what that company was. Everytime she asked she was answered with a vague response or he acted like one of his kids needed him (which they usually did).

Her eyes glazed over the screen as she read about her father's crimes.

Jake Dylan Thorne caught and arrested after breaking into the homes of wealthy families in the New England area. He was found armed with a Glock 17X and had a warrant for arrest in three other states.

An angry huff escaped her as she slammed her laptop shut. She was enraged, but at what? Her uncle for lying to her? Or the fact that her dad was a criminal?

Both?

Marty clenched the end of her jacket sleeves aggressively. This wasn't right. She flopped back onto her mattress and rubbed her eyes under her glasses. She didn't even know what to think.

Muffled footsteps sounded from below her room. It was Uncle Joe getting ready for work. No one else would be up yet. Shoot, she wasn't even supposed to be up. The brunette sat up on her bed, grabbed her laptop, and walked to the hall.

She kept her footsteps light as she made her way down the stairs and into the kitchen. She found her uncle pouring coffee into a thermos at the counter. He moved to turn and flinched.

"Marty!" He whispered. "You scared me. What are you doing up?"

The teen maintained her mask of indifference. "When were you going to tell me the truth?"

Uncle Joe furrowed his brow, but a flash of fear crossed his expression. "What are you talking about?"

Marty opened her laptop and turned it. Uncle Joe leaned in to look at it. A small sigh escaped him as his eyes closed.

"Yeah," Marty grunted. "When was I supposed to know about this?"

Uncle Joe leaned back against the counter and ran a hand over his face. "I should've known I couldn't keep it from you forever," he groaned. "But–" he looked at her, hazel eyes boring into hers. "–I wanted to protect you."

"Protect me?" She scoffed. "How is lying to me protecting me? How is keeping this–" she gestured to her laptop. "–from me going to benefit me??"

Uncle Joe sighed again. He looked so tired Marty almost felt bad for him. "It's... complicated, kiddo," he screwed the cap onto his thermos. "I guess you're old enough to know the truth."

Nodding, Marty closed her laptop. Uncle Joe looked at the oven clock and frowned. "But I gotta get to work," he turned back to her sincerely. "I'll explain everything when I get home."

Marty furrowed her brow. "You're telling the truth? You're not just saying that and bail later??"

"I'm telling the truth, Marty," he said. "I promise I'll tell you when I get home."

Marty breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth. Uncle Joe never broke a promise. "Okay," she breathed.

Uncle Joe smiled sadly and gave her a one armed hug. Marty leaned into him, closing her eyes as she relaxed into his touch. He was one of the only people she felt she could let her guard down around, and he knew that.

He gave her another soft smile as he pulled away. "Be good at school," he walked to the door.

Marty watched as he walked outside and into his truck. Moments later, the truck pulled away and drove out of sight. Somehow she knew that school was going to be the least of her worries that day.

)()()()()(

"Hello! Earth to Marty!"

Marty blinked and sat upright. "Huh?"

Miko and Marty sat on the steps of the school waiting for their rides. Marty had been thinking about what Uncle Joe was going to say when she got home and trying to work out every possible scenario.

Miko curled her lip and furrowed her brow. "You've been a space cadet all day. You sure you're alright?"

So far, Miko was the only one who knew about her dad. But they were trapped together with that guard until Agent Fowler came to get them.

The brunette let out a sigh. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Miko instantly perked up. "Good! Watch this–" she opened her phone and showed a video of a blue motorcycle in a street race. The owner wore a grey helmet and shirt.

Marty squinted. "Is that Jack and Arcee??"

"Yeah! They totally left Vince in the dust!"

Four vehicles rolled up to the school. Right in schedule. Marty stood, taking her backpack with her. "Well, I doubt that follows Autobot rule number one."

Miko frowned and looked at her phone. "You think?"

Marty shrugged. "Bring it up with Jack. See how he reacts, I don't know."

She walked down the steps and over to her guardian. He opened the door for her as usual. Once she was buckled in, Optimius pulled away from the curb.

"How was school?" He asked.

"Fine," Marty stared out the window blankly. The scenery changed and she realized that Optimius was driving towards the base, as he always did after school. "Actually, Optimius, could you take me home instead?"

Silently, the Prime changed direction and drove into town. Marty leaned her head against the window, letting the glass’ cool temperature seep into her skin. 

She couldn't wait for her uncle's explanation, yet she dreaded it severely.

Before she knew it, Optimius had stopped a block from her home. It was a necessary precaution, considering that Aunt Dana was not going to take a semi truck dropping her off lightly.

Marty unbuckled and grabbed her backpack, but when she moved to open the door it stayed put. She frowned. "Optimius?"

"Are you certain that school was alright, Little One?" He pressed.

Marty closed her eyes for a moment. "School was fine, Optimius. There are just... somethings in life right now that I don't know how to handle."

She wasn't sure how to tell Optimius, if she even could. A low hummed vibrated the cabin. 

"I understand," the door opened.

Marty moved to climb out, but her guardians voice stopped her.

"But if the time comes, know that I am always available to confide in." 

Marty glanced at the dash with a down cast expression. "Thanks, Optimius. But I don't even know if I can think about it."

)()()()()(

Uncle Joe always got home around 5:30, and it was ten minutes past that. Marty sat on the front porch swing waiting for his pickup truck to pull in. 

Then, the blue Ford rolled into the drive. Three kids burst out of the house, all ready to greet their father.

"Dad!!!"

Immediately, Uncle Joe was attacked by his son and daughters. Annie hung off his arm like a monkey, Benny stuck to his leg, and Brenna bounced along side of them. Instead of shaking them off, Uncle Joe laughed happily with them.

Is that what it was like to have a dad? Marty couldn't help but wonder as her uncle and cousins made their way to the house. Uncle Joe's expression dropped from joyful to tired as soon as he laid eyes on Marty.

Was that what she was to him? Tiring?

"Hey, guys, why don't you go help your mom with dinner?" Uncle Joe suggested to his horde of kids.

Instantly, they were inside, yelling and screaming the whole way.

Marty watched as her uncle sat down beside her with a soft grunt. They sat in silence for a moment before Uncle Joe spoke up. "So, how was school?"

"Please, just cut to the chase, Uncle Joe. Please,"  Marty begged.

Uncle Joe let out a sigh, resting his hands on his knees. "You're right. You deserve the truth."

Marty kept her gaze on him, watching as he composed himself.

"Where do I even start?" He murmured to himself. He bit his lip as he gathered his thoughts. "You're dad and I..." he scratched at his beard. "We used to get in a lot of trouble as kids..."

Marty listened intently as her uncle told her about how him and his brother would smash mailboxes or steal from local establishments. 

"I grew out of that," Uncle Joe continued. "I got a job, and I met your aunt. You're father..." He paused, as if unsure how to word it nicely. "He...he wanted to continue this life and did."

Marty stared out at the road blankly. "And then he went to prison and Mom divorced him."

Uncle Joe exhaled and nodded. "Yep."

Marty turned to look at him. "But why did you lie to me and say he was a bigshot in business?"

Another sigh left him as he scratched the back of his head. "You were a lot younger then. I didn't want you to know that your dad was..."

"A convicted criminal?"

"...Yeah," he breathed. He turned in his seat to face her. "Look, Marty, no one can control who their parents are. That's why I took you on, so you could have people who cared."

Marty blinked once. Twice. Uncle Joe cared?

"When you came to live with us, it was an adjustment. But I don't regret it," the corners of his eyes crinkled in a smile.

Marty didn't know what to say. It made sense for Uncle Joe to care about her if he took her in. But it still didn't seem right to her. Why was her uncle caring for her like a father when she had one who was alive and well?

)()()()()(

"I am beginning to suspect Miko and Rafael are lying about Jack and Bumblebee's whereabouts," Optimius stated as he drove along the lone desert road back to Jasper.

"What makes you say that?" Marty hummed. Her elbow was propped up against the door with her hand squishing her cheek. Although she was responding to her guardian's words, her mind was far from the present. 

Everything Uncle Joe told her made sense. Her dad was a criminal and her mom was a deadbeat, so he took her in. He lied to her so she wouldn't feel bad about herself. Everything he did was for the right reasons, yet a something was chewing her up inside.

She didn't know how to explain it. All she knew was it hurt badly.

"Martha," Optimius spoke, "you have been quiet this evening. Is everything alright?"

Unreasonable rage boiled inside her. "I'm fine."

Optimius was just asking if she was okay. He was just caring for her.

"And you are certain...?"

That was it. "Stop!" The teen snapped. "Just stop! Please!"

Optimius took that literally, seeing as his brakes squealed in a sudden halt. Stunned silence filled the cabin. Marty had to get out. She aggressively opened the door and jumped out, walking along the desert road.

"Martha–" Optimius started.

"No!" The girl shouted, turning to face the Peterbuilt. "No, why do you care?! Why do you care when my own parents don't!?? Why does my Uncle Joe care?? Why does Miko care?? Why does everyone care except for the two people who are supposed to care the most!?!?"

Optimius said nothing. A bitter chuckle escaped Marty's mouth.

"My mother had me for eleven years. ELEVEN, and she just dropped me like I was nothing. It was easy for her. And my father didn't even make an effort in the first place. It's why he's sitting in some prison instead of being here with me!!"

Her eyes dampened with unshed tears as she glared at Optimius. "The freaking alien from another planet cares more than my own father does?! I don't– I-I can't– ARGH–!!!!"

An angry growl tore through her throat and into the night air. Everything poured out of her. Everything she had been suppressing for the past few days. Or was it years? Everything she had ever felt exploded out of her just then and left her without anything.

She removed her glasses and wiped her eyes on her jacket sleeve. She didn't know what to say know. Optimius had been quiet the whole time.

"I guess you'll probably wanna renounce me as your charge, huh?" She guessed with a sniff. "No one wants to take care of the trouble kid."

"Martha, I would never give you up."

The finality in his tone made Marty look up at him. Though she was staring at the grill of a semi, she could​​ hear the determination in his expression.

"Your parents did not realize that they were missing the chance to spend time with an intelligent, fascinating, talented girl, and that is their burden to bear. Your anger is just," he continued, "but do not let their actions deem yourself unworthy of love. You are more deserving than any person –human and Cybertronian– I know. If even a being foreign to your planet and customs can see that, than it is the obvious truth. Anyone who denies the truth is a deceiver and is not worthy of your attention."

The only sound that passed the space between them was the rustle of dry wind. Marty stared at her guardian's vehicle form, her mouth agape in shock. Everything Optimius had said made complete sense, but when couldn't see that because of her emotions.

Words formed on her tongue, but it was unmoving. Optimius simple, common sense filled the cracks. He cared. Uncle Joe and Aunt Dana cared.

She didn't have two parents to love her, but she had Optimius, Uncle Joe, Aunt Dana, her friends and cousins–the list went on. She had all she needed. A small smile crept onto her face as a sigh left her lungs.

She was secure with Optimius and her family. Nothing could change that.

Previous

[monstersinthecosmos]

HI <3 Sheith VC anon here back with a very humble request. So I've read TVL and am currently reading QoTD, just finished the Devil's Minion chapter (oH mY gOD my HEART). I'm going through the books a bit slowly bc life stuff, but I have sooooo many thoughts and feelings and feel like I need to read lots of fic to work through it LOL. I would love it if you could rec me some (or tons of!) fics that wouldn't give me (m)any spoilers re: stuff that happens after this point in the series. I realize this might be a kind of hard/maybe impossible request because a lot of those spoilers would be referring to things that chronologically would have taken place prior to DM for instance, but I'm so starved I thought I might ask just in case! I'm not suuuper partial to any specific ships (Lestat/Louis is a bit boring IMO 😭 but I love them so I'll take it) and I don't have any NOTPs, so I'm down to read pretty much anything (esp if it's spicy and/or hurts my heart and/or features Armand lmao). Totally fine if this is too much trouble or if it turns out to be an impossible ask indeed; thank you in advance anyway! AND THANK YOU AGAIN for introducing me to these brain-rotting books lol I spend like half my waking hours thinking about Armand now.

SHGKJALDS I SPEND HALF MY WAKING HOURS THINKING ABOUT ARMAND TOO SINCE LIKE THE YEAR 2000 LMFAO im so glad you see!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU GET IT MAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So babe tbh the reason I started writing Armand/Daniel fic at all is because there really ... isn't that much? And I was like GUESS I GOTTA FUCKIN COOK FOR MYSELF. So tbh I haven't actually read a ton of VC fic at all. The otp:true filter for them on AO3 (excluding TVverse fics) only has 237 fics hdkjgalds but you can start here LOL. I think for the most part you'll be able to tell in the tags if it's post-QOTD because people usually will tag like "post canon" or "Prince Lestat Era"; for QOTD fics check for a Devil's Minion/Devil's Minion Era tag. I don't always remember to tag my own fics but my only post-canon D/A fic is called "In the Trials of the Heart" and all my others are Devil's Minion era and shouldn't spoil anything ! Be aware that the TV fandom and book fandom sometimes overlap so there might be stray TV fics in the book tag; it won't spoil anything bc the TV canon is a completely different story, but it might not make sense if you jump in to read it. So without actual fic recs I'll share some authors that I really trust!! Have a look through their VC fics!!!!!!!

apoptoses (pervert extraordinaire 10/10, all the D/A fics are Devil's Minion era except for Blood Sanation so go nuts!) covenofthearticulate (this is Ash, she actually writes Loustat & Louis/Armand mostly but she's so smart and I trust her so much!!!!) Diabolus_Invictus HekateInHell (writes a lot of Lestat/Armand and also has a human AU called Our House that I'm obsessed with!) ImhereImQuire Nothing_But_Paisley rainandcoffee (if you're sick of all of our doom&gloom you can find fluff and lightness here!) whisperbird (just one VC fic but I think about it every day of my life I love it)

Whenever I remember I try to post VC fics that I do read, kinda like how Sheith fandom does Wednesday Fics, I try to tag #VCFicFriday so try there too!

Anyway if anyone wants to add to this post and share recs PLEASE DO I actually am not a great fic reader bc my attention span sucks and I'm picky about canon compliant porn LOL! But help our new friend out if you want to share any!!!!!!!!!!!!

[afniel]

When you get this, publish 5 songs you like to listen to, then send it to ten mutuals!

Ooh this should be fun. Only five? I could do this all day but let's go. In fact I'm just gonna give you a chunk off my aptly-named "writing MMX fanned fiction" playlist that I keep going back to listen to, because, well. Guess what I've been doing still.

I feel like there should be a way to do a small embed but if there is I can't find it, sooooo uhhhhh sorry for the long post!

1.

I'm not actually sure if it's got anything to do with the plot but the vibes are impeccable so I kept it. Ghost kinda fucks.

2.

This is so extremely a character song and I won't bore the uninterested by going into it but if you have read any of my shit you can immediately figure out who. I'm 100% positive about that. I dunno where I got this. I think I was just letting Spotify run on its own and it pulled this out and I went, oh hey hold up I can rotate a blorbo to this...

3.

Songs that just hit exactly right when you're writing a series in a setting that's basically running on sentient robot slavery. Essenger is alright, but Scandroid is kinda what makes it work for me. On their own Essenger is a little too downtempo for my tastes.

4.

This is also a character song! Whose? Mmmmm you'll figure it out or you won't. The point is though that it's fucking cool and Gary Numan is doing some awesome shit these days. I wouldn't have even known but my buddy @uendwen send it to me and I immediately was obsessed.

5.

I'm cheating and this is two songs, but the first goes straight into the second without a break, so I'm calling it one.

Really gotta listen to them back to back. Spotify randomly played MHz and I went, whoa, what is this, I kinda like it. The more I listened to it the more I got into it, and then I listened to Problem Me just to see if I liked it, and it slaps also. The vibe was so exactly what I was looking for too. I'd never heard of Modwheelmood. Sometimes the Spotify algorithm is good, actually.

I am a little braindead today and don't feel like finding ten people to send this to, so consider yourself tagged. I wanna hear your tunes. Hook me up with some new shit to listen to.

[up-in-space-reading]

Average Weekly Screentime - Chap 4: Study Dates and Movie Not-Dates

pairing: Jake Peralta x Amy Santiago

word count: 3546

warnings/tags: college au, texting, drunk texting, text fic (mostly, there's prose a few chaps in), bets, bisexual!jake peralta, jake peralta has adhd, parties, drinking and alcohol, sexual references, implied sexual content (nothing explicit, just suggested its going to happen/has happened), friends to lovers, swearing, mentions of cannibalism, lighthearted threats of violence (typical rosa stuff yk), fluff CW: At one point in this chapter there's a guy being a bit pushy towards Amy but its over fairly quickly and nothing bad happens.

read on ao3

Average Weekly Screentime masterlist

Story Summary: texting fic college AU with the squad! It's the beginning of the school year and while everyone else thinks it'll be the same as the previous year, Gina has a feeling things are going to be different and wagers a bet with Rosa and Charles. Told through all the various group chats everyone is in.

Chap 1 | Chap 2 | Chap 3 | Chap 4 | Chap 5 | Chap 6 | Chap 7 | Chap 8 | Chap 9 | Chap 10

authors note: Another chapter is here!!! I don't really have much to say about this chapter if I'm honest except that it was a fun one to write!! There's actually some fun little Gina and Charles moments that were very fun to write so I hope you like those too.

Thanks for reading <3

Jimmy Jabbers

[11:32am, Sunday]

Pineapples: how is everyone this fine morning??

Four Eyes: It’s far from a fine morning, it’s absolutely freezing outside Four Eyes: Also my head hurts

Pineapples: you and me both ames

Four Eyes: I was thinking of going to Sal’s for a greasy breakfast and coffee

Pineapples: great idea! Pineapples: count me in

Queen G: calm down u two Queen G: im also in Queen G: ily sal

RoRo: same

Pineapples: that u love sal?

RoRo: I’ll hit you

Mr Grapes: count me in for greasy breakfast too! Mr Grapes: gotta have the party debrief

-

Dance Squad

[11:37am, Sunday]

G-Hive: well that’s a new development

Scary: elaborate?

G-Hive: ‘ames’ G-Hive: a nickname

Scary: right Scary: is ur life THAT boring gina?

G-Hive: i will end u

Scary: i’d love to see u try

-

Amy sat up in bed with a groan, her muscles aching after the hours of dancing and the cold walk home in heels. Her head was hurting, the light peeking through her curtains just a bit too bright for comfort. She stretched and mentally went through her routine to get ready: pain killers, brush teeth, get dressed, do hair. Makeup was not going to happen today she had decided quickly, and she was sure the left-over black eyeliner hugging her lash line was sufficient to convey an illusion of effort.

She moved about her dorm going through the process of getting ready, making sure to wear some layers as a cautionary look at the weather report told her that she would need to rug up. A part of her made the rest of her feel guilty for not showering but she wanted to be ready quickly to go out, and she wasn’t ready to part with the curls Gina had crafted just yet. So to preserve them a bit longer Amy tied her hair up into a ponytail.

It wasn’t long after she’d finished tying her hair up she got a message from Jake.

-

Skipping School Is(n’t) Cool

[11:58am, Sunday]

Ferris: u ready?

Cameron: Yep!

-

Jimmy Jabbers

[11:59am, Sunday]

Pineapples: whos ready??

Queen G: rosa and i are

Mr Grapes: mee!

Four Eyes: Ready

Pineapples: meet at sals? Pineapples: usual table?

Queen G: k

Mr Grapes: yep

-

Skipping School Is(n’t) Cool

[12:03pm, Sunday]

Ferris: im outside ur building

Cameron: I thought we were meeting there?

Ferris: i got too excited and left early

Cameron: Haha okay, on my way out now

-

Amy put her hoodie on and zipped it up, she then quickly wrapped her scarf loosely around her neck and was about to walk out of her door when she suddenly remembered the jacket hanging over her desk chair.

Without thinking, she put it on over her hoodie and ran out the door shrugging her bag onto her shoulder. The elevator ride was quick and walking through the building Amy noticed a few others who seemed to be nursing hangovers from an eventful Saturday night.

She met up with Jake outside who seemed to give her a once over before prompting the beginning of their walk, Amy didn’t question the look he gave her and chalked it up to being hungover. They chatted about nothing in particular as they made the short walk to Sal’s.

Walking through the door they were hit with a strong gust of warm air, the heating having been turned up to accommodate for the weather outside. Rosa, Gina and Charles had already gotten there and were getting comfortable in their usual booth.

Jake called out to them as he and Amy walked through the diner towards the table, Charles turned around to greet Jake back. His face lit up when he saw the two of them and Amy thought it was nice how close Jake and Charles were.

Charles quickly turned back around in his seat and Gina raised an eyebrow at him before composing herself again. Charles shuffled down the booth so Jake and Amy could slide in, Jake sitting in the middle and Amy on the edge.

She quickly got warm in the diner and moved to take Jake’s jacket off, handing it back to him.

“Sorry, forgot to give you this earlier” She said as she handed it to him.

“Ain’t no thang” He placed it on the seat between the two of them as Amy gave him a weird look in response to him.

-

Dance Squad

[12:10pm, Sunday]

Charlese: have mercy on me Charlese: he gave her his jacket Charlese: that’s his favourite jacket

G-Hive: what does it MEAN charles

Scary: I think you know exactly what it means gina

G-Hive: but he hasnt even said anything about liking a girl G-Hive: let alone AMY G-Hive: he usually overshares about that stuff

Charlese: he definitely would’ve told me by now

Scary: you two are exhausting

-

Skipping School Is(n’t) Cool

[12:11pm, Sunday]

Cameron: Rosa, Gina, and Charles are texting each other aren’t they?

Ferris: we can only assume so Ferris: so rude tbh

-

The five of them ordered their greasy breakfasts and a boat load of coffee, talking about the party and how everyone’s night went. Charles began oversharing about his evening with a girl before a round of disgusted responses got him to ease up with the details.

Gina and Rosa (primarily Gina) recapped every detail leading up to and during the argument some two random guys were having which caused them to leave. Then Jake and Amy were asked how their night went, Amy almost began blushing and felt embarrassed to answer but she didn’t know why. All she did was play beer pong with Jake and the others, then dance with Jake, then walk home with Jake, and borrowed Jake’s jacket-

Oh.

“I’m just gonna run to the bathroom” She excused herself from the table quickly while Jake recounted the beer pong game for Gina.

While in the bathroom she tried to get her head straight, convincing herself now wasn’t the time to think about these sorts of things because she was hungover and tired. For now she moved all the thoughts of her night with Jake to the back of her mind, glad that they were still talking about beer pong when she returned to the table.

After a while and checking the time Amy decided to go back to her dorm and do some reading, wanting to at least feel mildly productive today. Everyone agreed they all had things they needed to do, so they all paid and left the diner, walking back to campus in the cold.

They went their separate ways towards their dorms and Amy almost felt lonely going up the path towards her building without Jake by her side, cracking jokes and bouncing on his toes with excitement over a new would you rather question he thought of.

Once back in her dorm she sighed heavily, getting out a book, putting on some music and settling on her bed to read.

-

Dance Squad

[04:06pm, Sunday]

G-Hive: do we need a debrief orrr??

Charlese: a debrief would be fantastic

Scary: you two are way too heavily invested in our friends love lives Scary: they’re gonna do what they’re gonna do and in their own time Scary: what they tell us and what they don’t is up to them, give them some space and have some boundaries Scary: don’t be weird and don’t be creepy

Charlese: …

G-Hive: … jeez rosa G-Hive: charles call me in 10 we gotta talk

Charlese: will do!

Scary: unbelievable

-

Skipping School Is(n’t) Cool

[04:19pm, Sunday]

Ferris: just asked charles if he wanted to watch a movie and he said no bc he is on the phone to GINA

Cameron: That’s so weird, what are they talking about?

Ferris: he wouldnt tell me!

Cameron: That is very unlike either of them Cameron: It’s probably nothing, don’t stress about it

Ferris: hm okay

-

Jimmy Jabbers

[06:12pm, Monday]

Pineapples: okay Pineapples: what is the message u would send to signify you were kidnapped

Mr Grapes: McDonalds is the best food ever

RoRo: the colour pink is underrated

Queen G: Beyonce is overrated

Four Eyes: Books are for nerds

Pineapples: mine is Pineapples: i love making the bed

-

Skipping School Is(n’t) Cool

[07:32pm, Monday]

Ferris: really wish i had some soup yk

Cameron: My mom makes the best soups; I’m looking forward to going home for the holidays and eating as much of it as possible

Ferris: brag much! Ferris: if there is leftover ill happily accept

Cameron: Haha, with all of my brothers that’s a very big IF

Ferris: how many brothers do u have??

Cameron: Seven

Ferris: JEEEEZ Ferris: no wonder you are the way you are

Cameron: What’s that supposed to mean!?

Ferris: ur SO competitive Ferris: me too tbf

Cameron: Can’t argue with you on that one..

Ferris: i tell it like it is

Cameron: Sure you do Pineapples

Ferris: the horrors never end :(

-

[02:10pm, Tuesday]

Cameron: Are you on your way yet? Cameron: I’m at our usual table

Ferris: sorry omw Ferris: couldnt find the right notebook

-

“I said I’m not really interested right now, I’m just trying to study” Amy said for the third time to the guy sitting across the table from her, getting increasingly agitated at his persistence and praying Jake would show up soon.

Her prayers were answered when she saw Jake walk in and spot her, at first looking happy to see her before his expression changed. He could tell immediately that something was wrong and made a beeline for the table as quick as he could without running through the library.

“Jake, you’re here, hi” Amy quickly cut off the guy who just began talking again.

“Hi Ames, is everything alright?” He sat down next to Amy and was quickly looking back and forth between her and the guy who was now confused and angry at Jake’s presence.

“I was just asking her out because I think she’s pretty” The guy cut in, not letting Amy answer.

A look of understanding crossed Jake’s face.

“Well as her boyfriend I’m not sure I can support that” He put an arm around Amy’s shoulders as he said this and her eyes widened in surprise.

She hoped against everything that Jake didn’t notice the heat creep up her neck, she could hear her heartbeat in her ears as her brain was running through a million different emotions all at once.

The guy scoffed and walked away from the table, leaving Amy to sigh a breath of relief. Jake removed his arm from around her and she was disappointed at the loss of warmth and weight.

“Well he sucked” Jake commented after a few moments of silence, trying to break the tension.

Amy exhaled quickly through her nose in response.

“Yeah he did” A few more moments of silence passed as Jake got his things out of his bag, “thanks for that, I appreciate it” She continued, quieter than before.

“It’s fine” Jake shrugged it off, opening his books and laptop, spreading everything out across the table.

The two of them worked for roughly 10 minutes in comfortable silence aside from the clatter of laptop keyboards and the clicking of pens. Suddenly Jake stopped with a halt, putting down his pen and leaning down to rummage through his bag.

“I completely forgot, I brought lunch”

He pulled two sandwiches out of his bag, handing one to Amy.

“You got subs? Lunch was meant to be on me today” Amy protested with a smile, remembering their banter from the weekend.

“Next week it’s on you, then” He responded, waving a hand in dismissal.

He went to open the sub and begin eating it right there over his books and it made Amy cringe but she let him be, knowing her objections wouldn’t make a difference.

They spent a few hours at the library studying until it got dark, Jake frequently asked Amy questions about the work and she was happy to answer all of them.

She wore a small smile on her face the entire way back until she got in her dorm room and realised what she was doing. She then proceeded to scream into her pillow and flail around until she was satisfied she’d gotten her feelings out, feeling childish afterwards.

Her feelings for Jake was something she simply chose to not think about, because having feelings for Jake was complicated and Amy’s never done well with complicated that wasn’t related to school work.

There was also no way Jake liked her back, they were way too different.

-

He wished he could go one day without thinking about her. She was the most beautiful plague on his mind, half of him wanted a cure but the other half enjoyed the symptoms far too much.

His jacket smelled like her, his notebooks had her red pen marking throughout them, and his camera roll full of memes that he found just for her.

At first it was a feeling he was able to deny, but slowly the feelings crept up on him, slow enough that he hadn’t noticed until one day it hit him like a truck. The feeling made him sit down with his head in his hands, wondering how he could possibly develop a crush on one of his closest friends.

Charles had been saying since day one that Jake and Amy were meant for each other, and now Jake couldn’t believe he was actually right. If Jake ever told anyone, Charles would swoop in with the advice of a declaration of love like and happily ever after.

But Jake couldn’t do that, Amy didn’t like him back and how would they even work they’re such different people. He didn’t want to ruin their friendship.

Jake Peralta was head over heels for Amy Santiago and had no idea what to do about it.

-

Skipping School Is(n’t) Cool

[07:03pm, Thursday]

Cameron: Looking at the assignments you have left and how much time, you’re 100% gonna get it all finished

Ferris: you think so???

Cameron: Absolutely!

Ferris: ur the best ames

Cameron: It’s nothing.. Cameron: You’re the one who did all the work

Ferris: im gonna have a nice relaxing winter break

Cameron: And then back to it in the new year

Ferris: dont remind me

Cameron: If it’s any consolation part of me is dreading going home

Ferris: what about the soup?

Cameron: The soup is great, the busy household with no privacy is less than great

Ferris: fair enough Ferris: feeling lucky im an only child Ferris: but my mom cant cook like urs

Cameron: You’ve never had my moms cooking?

Ferris: i dream of it Ferris: i dream of soup ames

Cameron: Of course, haha

-

[05:42pm, Saturday]

Ferris: what r ur saturday plans

Cameron: Dinner soon, then study, maybe a movie if I have time Cameron: Why?

Ferris: forget that mess Ferris: im getting take out and watching a movie Ferris: join me plleaasseeee

Cameron: Not that I don’t want to, but what about Charles?

Ferris: on a date with the girl from the party Ferris: im proud of him

Cameron: Good on him Cameron: Okay, I’ll finish this up and head over Cameron: Do you want me to bring the big fluffy blanket?

Ferris: dumb question Ferris: obviously bring it

-

[06:03pm, Saturday]

Cameron: Coming over now!

Ferris: see uuuuu

-

The Night Boys

[09:23pm, Saturday]

Deathblade: hows the date going?!

Sidewinder: AMAZING Sidewinder: we both go to the same restaurants around the city and she loves dogs Sidewinder: I think she might be the one

Deathblade: thats great charles!!! Deathblade: use protection!!

Sidewinder: WILL DO JAKEY

-

Jimmy Jabbers

[09:48pm, Saturday]

Pineapples: if u disagree when i say one of the hottest looks of all time is Patrick Swayze in dirty dancing then ur not my friend

Queen G: out of nowhere but an important message thank u jake

Pineapples: i only speak the truth

RoRo: swayze’s hot

Four Eyes: I never said he wasn’t hot, Jake, can you let it go!

Pineapples: not until i get vindication

Four Eyes: Get off your phone and watch the movie please

Pineapples: fine

-

Dance Squad

[09:56pm, Saturday]

Scary: yeah somethings going on

G-Hive: YES ROSA

-

[07:23pm, Monday]

*G-Hive started a video call* *Charlese joined the call* *Scary joined the call*

Gina: Heeeeeey

Charles: Hi Gina! Hey Rosa!

Rosa: What do you want?

Gina: I wanted to talk to the only two people who care about Jake and Amy-

Charles: Peraltiago, that’s their names combined-

Gina: Boyle! You’re ruining the fun of it!

Rosa: There shouldn’t be fun to speculating as to whether two of our friends are gonna bang

Gina: If that isn’t fun then what even is fun, Rosa?

Rosa: Knives

Charles: Just knives?

Rosa: Just knives

Gina: Ignoring that. Can you believe they were watching a movie together? Without us! I’m almost offended we didn’t get an invite

Charles: To be fair, I was on a date so I couldn’t have gone anyway

Gina: Don’t even talk to me about how you had a date on Saturday and I spent the whole night in my dorm alone

Rosa: Didn’t you get the DJ’s number from the party?

Gina: OH MY GOD! Rosa thank you for the reminder, texting him literally as soon as we’re done here!

Charles: What are we doing here exactly, Gina?

Gina: Great question Charles. We’re here because I’m bored and want to do anything other than more goddamn school work

Charles: Fair enough. Did you see Amy wearing his jacket last week?

Gina: He has a weird attachment to that thing and seemed perfectly fine giving it up to Amy for however long? He literally wears it everywhere!

Charles: Everywhere! And he just let Amy have it for at least 12 hours, that’s gotta mean something

Gina: I hate how much you get me Charles

Charles: Sorry

Rosa: Have you guys ever considered that they like each other?

Gina: Of course we have Rosa

Charles: Only ever since the two of them met

Rosa: I’m going to indulge you for a minute, and then I am leaving this conversation. Stop gasping for god sake.

Charles: Sorry

Rosa: The two of them clearly like each other, they’re both stubborn and competitive and weird. One day they’re gonna talk and figure it out, and its not up to us to interfere with whatever weird flirting friendship thing they have going on.

Charles: I might start crying

Gina: I hate to say it but me too

Rosa: Great, now I’m going. Bye.

*Scary left the video call*

Gina: Now that she’s gone, I gotta tell you what Sasha in my analytics class said today!

Charles: Dish!

-

Skipping School Is(n’t) Cool

[04:05pm, Wednesday]

Cameron: You’ve been out of class for five minutes and still not given me an update regarding the assignments? Cameron: Keeping me on the edge of my seat here haha

Ferris: well ames… Ferris: idk how to break it to you

Cameron: What happened?

Ferris: I GOT A 70% Ferris: I HANDED EVERYTHING IN AND I PASSED Ferris: this semester at least

Cameron: JAKE THAT’S AMAZING Cameron: I knew you could do it!

Ferris: i wouldnt have been able to if it wasnt for u

Cameron: That’s not entirely true, you were the one who did all the work

Ferris: but u helped and encouraged me Ferris: so im thanking you Ferris: just accept it

Cameron: Fine… you’re welcome

Ferris: ur gonna hate the next bit tho Ferris: im sure u remember our stakes

Cameron: Oh no…

Ferris: if not ill refresh ur memory Ferris: amy santiago Ferris: will u go to terrys new years party with me AND match me drink for drink

Cameron: Yes, Jake Peralta, I will go to Terry’s new years party with you and match you drink for drink

Ferris: SHE SAID YES LADIES AND GENTS

Cameron: Hahaha Cameron: Tread lightly, I have a number of nieces and nephews who will gladly get me sick right before the big event if you’re not careful

Ferris: ames how DARE you threaten to betray me Ferris: and after all the work ive done

Cameron: Hahahaha

-

Jimmy Jabbers

[04:15pm, Wednesday]

Pineapples: good afternoon everyone! Pineapples: whos planning on going to terrys nye party??

Queen G: im absolutely there

Mr Grapes: it’s still a week and a half away but yeah I’ll probably be there

RoRo: idk RoRo: if I’m not doing anything else

Pineapples: @Four Eyes and ur answer?

Four Eyes: …yes I’ll be there…

Pineapples: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO Pineapples: whats that sound? its the sound of victory

Four Eyes: Whatever you say, pineapples

Mr Grapes: hahaha pineapples is still funny

Queen G: cool it mr grapes

Mr Grapes: aw..

-

[03:30pm, Friday]

Four Eyes: I’m heading home for the next two weeks now. I hope you all have a great holidays!

Mr Grapes: you too amy!

-

Skipping School Is(n’t) Cool

[03:31pm, Friday]

Ferris: wait im not gonna get to say goodbye to u?

Cameron: Sorry, I thought I’d have a chance but I ran out of time

Ferris: thats okay Ferris: have a good holiday ames :)

Cameron: You too, Jake :)

Chap 1 | Chap 2 | Chap 3 | Chap 4 | Chap 5 | Chap 6 | Chap 7 | Chap 8 | Chap 9 | Chap 10

authors note: And so we end it just as the holidays begin! I loved writing the dynamic between Gina, Charles, and Rosa this chapter; especially Gina and Charles! idk why but I just have this feeling that Charles and Gina would love gossiping together, and being the two really openly rooting for Amy and Jake I feel like would cause them to be a little bit closer in that way.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and I'll try to have the next one out as soon as I can!! Thanks for reading <3

[cirrus-grey]

I have now finished watching Good Omens Season 2

If you haven't already, please block the tag "good omens spoilers" - I won't post anything else until Friday night at the earliest, but after that all bets are off.

@albertinesimonet, I did not manage a full liveblog but I did jot down my reactions after watching each episode, and those are compiled under the cut :)

(SPOILERS!)

Episode 1:

Holy flipping fuck are they actually making the ineffable husbands canon???

Okay.

Look.

I saw that it was trending alongside Supernatural and OFMD. I suspected it was going this way, and the season had ended with some sort of confession/immediate separation.

That did not prepare me for the season to open with Crowley saying "hello gorgeous" to a nebula and Aziraphale being disappointed that Crowley wasn't talking to him. Or for Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy to be playing while Crowley rushed to Aziraphale's aid, like-

This is a fanfic. This is a motherfucking fanfic, and I am pleased to say that my brain is processing it as such, a well-written but ultimately non-canon fanfic (*puts on my "I still have book!omens brainrot" shirt*) that just so happens to have been written by one of the original authors.

Anyway, outside of my snorting disbelief that the first ship that I ever shipped is apparently going canon in one 'verse, I do actually have some legitimate theories, which run as follows:

A. I know this season is the plot-bridge between the original novel and what would have been the sequel, and B. I know the sequel was going to involve the second coming of Christ, therefore C. I suspect this Resurrectionist group that kept getting hinted at in the promos is trying to bring Jesus back, Gabriel found out and tried to stop it, and that's why he lost his memories. I'm a tad bit surprised Heaven as a whole doesn't seem to be involved in the return of their special boy, but I guess we'll see how that plays out as the season goes along.

Episode 2:

Oh hey, I've read this one before! "It's ancient Biblical times and Crowley and Aziraphale are angsting about their orders and finding solace in each other's company" may have never gotten its own tag, but there are certainly enough fics about it that it could.

"Can I be a blue one?" Weird kids are the best.

So the Resurrectionist is a pub, not a group. Still think they have something to do with the second coming, but I'm open to being proven wrong.

Gotta say, I didn't expect Every Day to be plot-relevant. I knew they had it for the soundtrack, but I'm really liking this sort of spooky-mystery-music-mixup they've got going with it - love the way its incorporated into the end credits, too.

Totally down for master-thief Jane Austen, btw.

How many people are writing fics about Crowley and Aziraphale getting caught in a rainstorm and hiding under an awning even as I type...

Episode 3:

How to run a bookshop, a guide by A.J. Crowley: Carry large stacks of books around aimlessly and then toss them on the floor when you get bored.

I'm honestly surprised his awning plan nearly worked. Curses be upon weak awnings, I suppose.

I do like that the Bentley recognizes that it has to play nice with whichever one of its dads is in the driver's seat lol

Okay so they keep drawing attention to the fact that there's flies in the bookshop, and now Beelzebub is acting off. Are the flies like... telepathically communicating Gabriel's worldviews to them? Is that how they figured out he was there?

That bit he said when Crowley mentioned tempests is definitely from the Revelations. I unfortunately don't know enough about the Revelations to draw any new conclusions from this. I know they deal with the apocalypse and the antichrist, but that was S1 stuff so there must be something else...

(That bit definitely sounded like Rapture stuff though, just saying)

Lotta talk about people coming back from the dead, here. It's doing little to dissuade me from my idea that this is all related to the second coming. Their "little" miracle was strong enough to bring 25 people back? Okay. How did Gabriel add his own power to it... and who did he bring back? (Does 1 Jesus = 25 normal people?)

...Okay yeah I just googled it and the second coming (and the rapture) is definitely in Revelations. Apparently the appearance of the antichrist is its herald. *insert 'oh yeah it's all coming together' gif here*

...

Several-hours later addition: When they were talking about gravity Gabriel seemed upset that the book didn't stay where it was put, "it goes down." And that flies go up.

...did he "go down," turning into a human, and is Beelzebub "going up," and that's why they're so worried about finding Gabriel? Figure out what happened to him, so it doesn't happen to them as well? Hmm...

Episode 4:

"The rumors that you two are an item..." Yeah holy fuck they're actually doing this. I don't know why it keeps catching me by surprise??? I guess it's not like, the forefront of the plot, so every time it comes to the front it feels a bit like a new thing, but still.

Aziraphale's smug fucking little eyebrow raise at that "I didn't think you were his type." He's like yeah, and what do you know, hm?

Did not expect the entire episode to be backstory, but that was very cute, especially given how much people fixated on the church scene in S1. That little showcase of their trust, both of them worried it'll go wrong but still willing to try because they feel safe with each other. I like that they managed to keep the tension of the setting, that "I'm pointing a gun at my best friend and this could go horribly wrong" feeling, even when it's well-established that the worst that could happen is paperwork.

Also, Crowley trying really, really hard to give Aziraphale positive feedback on his magic tricks even when he knows they suck. That's true love, right there.

Another showcase of people coming back from the dead. We've had the kids getting "brought back" from shape-shifting, the "resurrectionists" digging up dead bodies, and now actual honest-to-god zombies. I am Sensing A Theme.

...are the zombies still around? What's-is-face the demon did say eternal undeath...

Aaaaaand there's going to be an army of demons dropping in on the local business association meeting. I hope Aziraphale has enough tea cakes for everyone.

Episode 5:

SEAMSTRESSES SHOUTOUT ITS A FUCKING DISCWORLD REFERENCE

I know most people are probably going wild over the Dr. Who references but. It's the seamstresses guild...

I'm sure Mrs. Sandwich and Rosie Palm would get along famously.

In other news wow they're just being blatant about the ineffableness of these husbands now, aren't they? The great thing about that is I'm watching it with my parents and I don't think either of them have clicked that it's going canon - like, they're just interpreting it as a running bit, 'haha isn't it funny that everyone keeps mistaking them as a couple' kind of thing. The same thing happened when I showed them OFMD, neither of them realized Ed and Stede were actually going to be a real canon thing until the kiss. I mean, maybe they've worked out that this is going somewhere by now? But I don't want to ask in case they haven't, because I'd love to see their reaction if it blindsides them.

I am Not Normal about the dancing. Aziraphale's giddy little grin when he drags Crowley to the floor? The fucking. Hand presses. I've probably read too much Jane Austen if I'm going this insane about them just pressing their palms together.

And just... that whole fucking scene. The amount of queer people - either queercoded or just flat-out obviously queer - is making my heart feel full. When Aziraphale referred to the magic shop owner's partner using 'they' before we met them I thought it was just, you know, being polite, he'd never met them and didn't want to assume, but then they showed up in person and folks were still using they and they were so obviously giving a huge middle finger to gender norms I just-

Man I need to watch more queer shows I love this feeling.

And the army of demons is more of a large crowd but, well, still threatening. I like the use of masks to hide demonic traits, clever costuming detail there.

But. My dudes. Don't split up, what the fuck are you doing? You've been here for all of human history, you know how stories go, surely you know things always go wrong when you split the party??? I love protective!crowley, I do, but my dude taking off to bring this mess to heaven's attention is not the way to go about saving your angel. And Aziraphale, buddy, I don't know what you're planning to summon there but I really don't think it's going to go well.

...Maybe he's planning to teleport himself, Gabriel, and the humans up to heaven, too, to get them away from the demon crowd. It would be funny if Crowley and what's their name, Muriel, step out of the elevator and Aziraphale is just. There already.

(I don't think that's gonna happen though. I think everything is just gonna get Worse)

Anyway sidenote Lottie if you've read this far, when Gabriel started talking about feeling like a house I immediately thought of you, I know that's a theme you like ♡

Episode 6:

Jesus Christ!

(Called it!)

So I got a lot of the details wrong, but I was spot on with my two big predictions from the beginning. (Hey that ending reminded me of OFMD and Supernatural, I've got a great idea, why don't we all blog about the three of them and get them trending together-)

Gotta say, I'd only given a passing thought to Gabriel and Beelzebub being a Thing, their shippers must be going wild.

I knew there was a reason they kept drawing attention to that fly.

*Spots fire extinguishers* "Hey is that a Magnus Archives ref-" *Is brutally murdered with a lead pipe before I can finish*

I actually kind of love that Nina and Maggie didn't get together at the end of it all? I had felt like it was all going a bit too fast for them and I'm so glad they acknowledged that. They've got time, now, to work things out, and I love that they left it with the certainty that they'd be there for each other in the future... but not quite yet.

Oh! Oh! Oh! And they fit in the halos-used-as-lethal-frisbees-sequence! That was fabulous, I want to see more exploding headgear.

...anyway I think that's all the little bits I wanted to mention before getting to the Main Event.

I'm actually... not all that devastated about that ending? Like, okay, my heart was breaking watching it, the miscommunication and assumptions leading to a dramatic separation, it's tragic and angsty and oh my god my ship kissed my first ever ship kissed they did it they did the thing-

But. Two seconds after the credits started rolling my mind was already flying to, "oh thank goodness, they've got a Source On The Inside now and they might actually have a shot at stopping the end of the world instead of, you know, being blindsided by it because no one in heaven or hell is talking to them"

Like, sure, major breakup here, Crowley's gonna be pissed and Aziraphale might have to do their silly little "I'm sorry" dance three or four times before they can actually get down to business, but I don't think there's a question that both of them still trust each other immensely and know they can rely on each other to help out in a pinch. They'll be walking on eggshells for a bit, but it's pretty obvious that Aziraphale wouldn't have taken the promotion if he'd known Crowley wasn't going to come with him and as soon as he manages to properly communicate that fact they'll be fine.

(Sidenote, this, right here, exemplifies the difference between Book!Aziraphale and TV!Aziraphale. Book!Aziraphale is way more cynical about the whole heaven-and-hell system, he'd never say "heaven's still the good guys," and he'd be very, very suspicious of a sudden promotion landing in his lap after such a tumultuous sequence of events. TV!Aziraphale might not be the sweet little innocent bean fandom makes him out to be, but damn is he naive compared to his book counterpart. Makes me wonder how much of the hypothetical sequel has to change to work with this plotline - I'd bet my ass he wasn’t an archangel in that one.)

Can Crowley... hear the soundtrack? "No nightingales" like how does he know that's significant? Sir you are breaking the fourth wall-

(And how powerful is he? He's a nobody in hell but he keeps stopping time and could access classified documents up in heaven, something made his and Aziraphale's miracle blow up and apparently it wasn't Gabriel, and he also just brought a whole ass dude back from the dead??? Maybe those "Crowley is Raphael" theorists from S1 had a point)

Anyway, to cap it all off: my current predictions for S3 are the aforementioned ineffable husbands makeup and subsequent spy shenanigans as they scramble to try to stop Apocalypse 2: Jesus Boogaloo; they fail and Jesus comes back, but instead of following the Great Plan he instead chooses to side with "all of humanity against all of heaven and hell" (maybe Adam shows up too to help out?); and Crowley, despite his repeated protests, actually does end up running a bookshop because he doesn't trust Muriel to do it properly.

I summation, yes I am still alive, and very excited for the next season, whenever it happens. Also I need gifsets of the dance scene and that kiss ASAP please and thank you.

[defectivehero]

What do you want to see/read more with heroes and villains?

This is a great question, and I can only hope that I'm both doing it justice and also interpreting it correctly...

I suppose I'm not quite sure. If I'm being perfectly honest, I haven't quite been active in the hero/villain community on Tumblr in at least a year. The concept was staring to bore me, and I soon felt pigeonholed by the same broad labels that were supposed to be freeing for my writing.

As you've probably noticed, I haven't been very active on this blog recently. I'm writing a lot of fanfiction on AO3 and my other Tumblr... and now, I find that when I have the itch to write, I turn to fan fiction because it has pre-established characters and universes that I can then bend to my own will and desires. It's much easier to avoid the pitfalls that can plague the hero/villain content, because there is already at least some minimum foundation of knowledge required for fanfiction pieces to be comprehensible to the audience.

With that said, I think I'd like to read more hero & villain pieces that utilize one or more of the following qualities:

Satire. I really enjoy pieces that—to some degree of consciousness—have a sense of awareness. It doesn't necessarily matter how this awareness is cultivated, but it can manifest in different ways. Here are some examples that come to the top of my head:

the hero thinking about their role [either in life or in the story] as a hero, and how this commitment to heroism influences their own actions. sometimes, this shows through in their backstory; other times, this shows through in their own conceptualization as a hero.

same thing goes for the villain–how they interpret their own villainy can have a massive impact on the story. how do they see themself? do they think themself to be evil—and if so, to what degree—or perhaps taking on the burdens that others aren't courageous enough to take?

some acknowledgment of existing tropes. I've seen this executed quite well in a simple moment of dialogue, with a hero or villain poking fun at the situation they find themself in. humor is an effective weapon during moments of tension in stories, and it also introduces a new feeling to a concept that may already exist elsewhere. (but, again, as I'm sure most of you have seen, if humor is the only thing going for the piece, then it is likely going to feel uncomfortable or even cringey. gotta have some balance!)

I also enjoy pieces that don't spotlight romance. This is mostly because, a lot of times, the romance can feel either rushed, forced, cliche, or a combination of any of these. A hero falls in love with a villain, forbidden relationship, blah, blah, bLAH. It's been done a million times before. And, honestly? There's much more nuance and creativity in the components of a rivalry/tense alliance/hard-won friendship than in a hero/villain love story. Don't get me wrong, romance can really enhance a story—but I prefer it to show through in smaller actions and ambiguous, undefined relationships. It feels more meaningful that way.

Lastly, I'd say that I really enjoy stories that use a hero/villain dynamic but show it through different characters. This can show through in mythical beings, creatures, and humans that aren't a "hero" or a "villain." Detectives, pirates, vampires, fairies, aliens... There's nearly limitless potential!

The truth of the matter, in my opinion, is that the hero & villain dynamic has already been thoroughly explored. This community on Tumblr has been around for a while. Selfishly speaking, I miss the days when heroes & villains were a new and fresh concept—when the tag didn't have many followers and there was an air of excitement and intrigue to it all. About a year (and a half?) ago, I got so frustrated with this that I purged my entire blog and nearly deleted all my work.

The reasons I've detailed are why I've been recently struggling to write the dynamic. I don't want to create something that has already been created and, unfortunately, that is very difficult to accomplish now. But! This question has gotten the rusty cogs of my motivation to start whirring away. I'm going to challenge myself to utilize and uphold these standards I have listed out here.