#i really was starting to think i'd never get this written

[elkian]

It occurs to me that my stress+test anxiety method I used a few times in high school probably also helped relieved some of the OCD pressure of the same, so if you want to get a bad thought out you can try it:

Get a piece of paper. You're going to destroy it so don't worry too much about what kind.

Get a pen, or forget about using an eraser.

Write down everything you're worried about, stressed about, etc. Telling someone I was worried (ie freaking the fuck out but in denial about it) I'd fail a test I had studied for felt like too much, but I was never going to show this to anyone.

Keep writing. Keep going until you're grasping at straws trying to think of what to write down. Write over lines you've already written over, dig your pen/pencil into the paper, make dark marks and illegiable segments. Channel your feelings into your writing implement.

Once you feel like it, fold the paper up and start shredding it. Ideally with your own hands or whatever but make it as unrecognizeable as possible.

Optional: if you have the means to burn it without setting off a smoke alarm or setting something unintended on fire, feel free to do so. I didn't really have that option but it worked out.

If you're concerned about others finding your work, mix up the shreds and dispose of them in different places.

Get out another piece of paper and do it again. I usually was so drained at this point that I didn't always manage to fill the whole paper with one layer, let alone more.

Don't be afraid to talk to yourself on the page - extrapolate why you feel something or what could happen,and what you're afraid of happening.

Rinse and repeat. I never made it to three pages so this may not work for you if you find yourself doing that but you're the best judge of your own experiences etc.

This may help you keep the inside thoughts on the inside, godspeed.

banging my head on the wall BEGGING people on the internet to learn what an Inside Thought is. like you do not need to express every nasty opinion you have, and if you do so publicly, you gotta accept that people are gonna get mad at you for saying shit like "i find gay men repulsive". social media is not your private diary, it is public. there are consequences for saying terrible things, such as thousands of people thinking you're an asshole.

PLEASE learn what an inside thought is. you do not need to share everything that goes through your head. you shouldn't.

[withclawandvine]

what we pretend to be, chapter 4

Summary: Azriel was a veteran spy, well suited to the sneaking and solitude that comes with a life in the shadows. He was good at it. He wasn’t good at undercover missions, so he couldn’t hide his shock when new recruit and undercover specialist Elain Archeron was already seated at the conference table, looking beautiful as ever. And then it was dropped on them like a bomb: Azriel and Elain would be sent to the suburbs, posing as a married couple to gather intel on a suspicious man who, according to reports, was in communication with notorious arms dealer, Koschei Sokolov.

Author’s note: aaaand we’re back! and things are finally happening!! i’ve been really excited to share this chapter, which is at least 33% of the reason why it took so long — it just wasn’t living up to my own expectations. BUT i’m feeling pretty good about it now. hopefully we can keep these good vibes going hehe. please enjoy and lemme know what you think!

Tags: SFW, undercover au, fake married, hurt/comfort

Word count: 3.5k

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42105033

prev | start at the beginning

The wheels of the cart were already squealing under the burden of their items, but they couldn’t leave without a coffee maker. The Keurigs were tempting — easy and instantly gratifying. But the coffee the machines produced was mediocre at best, and Elain wouldn’t object to something more sustainable. She picked up a French press and started reading the product description printed on the box. No filters! Easy cleanup! Robust flavor! 

“Have you ever used one before?” Azriel asked, peering over her shoulder. 

Elain shook her head. 

“Then shouldn’t we — ”

“Just trust me,” she interrupted, stiffening a little in surprise as her phone vibrated in her back pocket. She handed Azriel the box and took it out to see that Nuala had finally replied to her text from this morning — an all-caps demand to know if the agent had lost her mind and if she was aware that summer wouldn’t last forever. 

Nuala had been in charge of Elain’s wardrobes for all of her previous missions. She’d always been as grateful for her fellow agent’s ability to anticipate her every need as she was mystified by it. Which was how she knew that her vast new collection of satin negligees was no oversight. 

Don’t be such a baby. Besides, I’m sure Chazen would be happy to keep you warm (;

Elain’s eyes widened at Nal’s message, and she couldn’t resist glancing over her shoulder to make sure Azriel was still focused on coffee makers. He caught her eye and smiled as he balanced the French press on top of their mountain of homegoods. She managed a quick flash of her own teeth before turning back to her phone.

Excuse you we are both professionals. 

Nuala’s response came through on the way back to the house. Oh come on, E. It’s sooo obvious he’s got a thing for you!!

After deleting the entire thread, Elain peered over at Azriel, looking more relaxed than she’d seen him in days. That much, she could tell. Their first car ride had been all bouncing knees and white knuckles, but now Azriel was leaning back in his seat with one hand draped lazily on the wheel and the other hanging out the window. 

But these supposed feelings for her?

She thought about all of her past interactions with Azriel. It didn’t take long; there weren’t all that many, poking the first hole in Nuala’s claim. On the rare occasions they were both at their desks for the day, filling out incident reports and compiling relevant intel for future investigations, they’d often get up to refill their coffee mugs at the same time. 

And sometimes, instead of going straight back to their respective corners, they lingered, sipping their drinks and trying to find something to talk about. Most of their work was classified, even amongst fellow agents, and due to the nature of that work, neither of them were particularly inclined to be forthcoming about their personal lives. Their interactions, while pleasant, were thin. And there was nothing to indicate that those few minutes had been significant to Azriel — at least, nothing obvious. 

As if he’d felt the weight of her attentions, Azriel turned to look at her. Aside from a slight raise of his brows, his expression was neutral, his hazel eyes unreadable. It was silly to think anything about Azriel could be truly obvious. 

***

The kitchen, while a bit too white and sterile-looking for her taste, was a dream. Flooded with natural light, the open space was home to miles of glossy countertops and appliances so sleek, Elain could see her reflection in them. It filled her with a sort of giddiness as she opened the double-door fridge and started lining its empty compartments with bottles and jars. 

In that aspect, it wasn’t all that different from the little fridge in the apartment she kept in the city. Leased under the name Sarah Gardiner, the rickety studio had no personal affects, no air conditioning, and nothing in the fridge besides black olives and hot sauce. Nothing fresh, lest she get sent to the other side of the country, gathering intel while her broccoli and blackberries molded.  

But now, a rainbow of produce covered the island, and Elain fell into an easy rhythm of washing and chopping and lining it up in neat rows on the shelves. Leafy greens and berries went into containers lined with paper towels, carrots were peeled then submerged in jars of fresh water. 

While she worked, Azriel busied himself with organizing the spice rack, seemingly in alphabetical order. Elain couldn’t help but smile to herself as she glanced over to see him holding up two little bottles, squinting thoughtfully at the labels. By the time the sun set, the fridge looked like it belonged to a lifestyle vlogger, the pantry was stocked, the French press was washed and ready for tomorrow morning, and the cardboard boxes from yesterday had been broken down.

While Azriel took them outside to be picked up for recycling, Elain started setting out ingredients. First thing tomorrow morning, she’d bake and box up a batch of cookies to hand deliver to their immediate neighbors, offering baked goods and an unassuming smile in exchange for their trust. Putting faces to the names in their briefings. 

“The couple right across from us kept staring at me,” Azriel said as soon as the garage door was shut behind him. “They probably think we’re up to something already, just because of how fast we finished unpacking.”

“How fast you finished unpacking.” 

When Elain woke up, the sun was only just beginning its ascent, but Azriel had already unloaded and organized all of their surveillance equipment in the home office, and was in the process of arranging decorative candles on the sofa table. 

“I don’t normally go to sleep as early as we did last night.” 

Elain wasn’t sure she’d consider midnight early. Especially not for someone who also claimed to be a morning person. Although not even she made a habit of being up hours before the sun. But when she pointed this out, Azriel only shrugged, “I guess I’m both.” 

“I think that just makes you an insomniac,” she said, half-teasing.

“Maybe.” His lips quirked in a small, rueful smile. He nodded to the stick of plant butter still in her hand, “Do you want any help?” 

Elain hesitated. Until now, she had no intention of doing anything but showering and going to bed. She was exhausted, and while she would’ve liked to prep the dough and let it chill overnight, she — unlike Azriel, apparently — needed more than four hours of sleep to function.

He was still looking at her, waiting for an answer with a self-conscious hand curled around the back of his neck. “I’m not sure how much help I’ll actually be, but —” 

“You can chop up the chocolate.” 

Elain had been following the same vegan chocolate chip cookie recipe since she learned how to use the oven. By now, each step and measurement was engrained in her memory. She whisked the melted plant butter in with the sugars and added vanilla until it felt right. 

The rest of the kitchen darkened with the sky, but instead of turning on the overhead light, Azriel kept close, so both of them were haloed by the yellow glow of the stovelight. His elbow occasionally bumped into hers as he neatly worked the knife through each bar of dark chocolate at a diagonal, just as Elain had instructed. 

When the final cup of flour made the dough stiff and heavy, Azriel took over. Elain couldn’t stop noticing the muscles in his arm flexing as he folded in the chocolate chunks. 

Azriel was distracted as he helped Elain with the dishes, stopping more than once to stare with what could only be described as lustful eyes at the oven. It only got worse as the aroma of melted chocolate and warm sugar got stronger. 

He couldn’t remember the last chocolate chip cookie he’d had, the milk chocolate and butter in most others was enough to make his stomach revolt. 

Elain winced. “It’s really that bad?” 

“If I was going to lie to you, I would’ve gone with something sexier than gastrointestinal issues.” 

She nodded sagely, “Like astigmatism.” 

“Exactly.” 

When Elain bit into a cookie, it was still delicate with pools of chocolate on the surface. It tasted of comfort and nostalgia — like swatting at Feyre’s hand when she tried to stick her fingers in the dough and late nights with Nesta. Azriel ate his in nearly a single bite, with an indulgent hum that made Elain grateful for the low light. 

Especially now that he was looking down at her, gaze steady and contemplative. She waited for him to say something, but he was quiet as he lifted his hand. Elain felt his warmth against her skin, his knuckles nudging her cheek as his thumb smoothed over the corner of her mouth.  

“You’ve got some schmutz,” he murmured. 

His touch had been slow, but he withdrew his hand quickly, eyes darting around the kitchen before landing determinedly on something beyond her left shoulder. Elain might have mistaken it for embarrassment, if his eyes hadn’t narrowed with suspicion. She turned around, following his gaze through the living room window to see Lynn Forth stepping alone off the Sokolov’s driveway and into the quiet street, an empty casserole dish in hand. 

“It’s a bit weird to be picking up a casserole dish at this time, don’t you think?” Azriel mused. 

Maybe. Lynn might’ve gone over hours ago, then got to chatting and lost track of time. 

“We’re baking cookies at this time.” 

“We’re weird.” 

She grinned. “And vaguely off-putting.” 

*** 

Azriel and Elain had been on their way to the house right across from theirs to deliver a box of Elain’s cookies and make formal introductions when Lynn stopped them in their driveway. Nobody else had showed up on their doorstep since their arrival. They still hadn’t decided if that was strange, if it made the Forths suspicious or simply over-eager. 

As she presented Lynn with the box, Elain lied smoothly that the cookies had been for her and Brian to thank them for the welcome basket, as if there weren’t four identical containers waiting on their counter for the next delivery. 

Lynn said she’d just been heading over to invite them to a welcome party at her house on Saturday. As she chattered about the woes of party planning and all the cleaning she still had to do before the day, Lynn took a bite of one of the cookies. She joked that they ought to make some more to bring to the party — they’d be a hit! 

Elain’s eyes had flickered to Azriel to find that was already looking at her, amusement dancing in his eyes.

Now, standing in the threshold of the Forth’s home, Elain held up a container of only slightly-stale cookies in a tupperware. “Can I put these in the kitchen?” 

“Of course! Everything’s out on the island.” Lynn said. Then, lowering her voice into a mock-whisper, added, “But feel free to stash those in a cabinet.” 

As she moved past Azriel, she ran her hand down his arm, pausing to squeeze his elbow. A fortifying gesture before she left him alone with the neighbors. 

Elain didn’t hide the cookies, but she took her time poking around for a different hiding place. When Azriel circled back later with the recording devices, he’d give her one to leave somewhere in the kitchen. 

Aside from the abundance of hotdishes and slow-cookers that would get swept up by the masses at the end of the night, the kitchen was pristine; no grease splattered the stovetop, a crumbless floor. The usual nooks and crannies weren’t dusty enough for her liking.

At least, the ones she could see. There was a small gap between the top of the fridge and the cabinets above it, too high and dark for Elain to assess its cleanliness. With a glance over her shoulder to make sure she was still alone, she pushed up on her toes and reached into the crevice, her fingertips dragging over the cool metal as she fell back onto her heels. 

The pads of her fingers were filmed with dust. She brushed them off on her pants as she made her way into the living room, where Azriel was already sitting on the sofa, a proprietary hand on the cushion next to him. 

It was impossible to discern whether or not Azriel was playing up his discomfort for the sake of their plan. While Elain fielded questions about her supposed grad program, and why she chose the small liberal arts school nearby instead of staying in the city, he sat silently beside her. The strain in his eyes and grimacing mouth seemed very, very real. 

“And we’re hoping to start a family soon,” Elain continued, reaching for the hand Azriel had rested on her knee and weaving their fingers together. “This just felt like the right place to do it!” 

The chorus of awws and predictions about how lovely their children would be turned into advice and their own experiences — the school was wonderful, there were a plethora of after-school clubs, the cul-de-sac was perfect for street hockey. 

“Though ever since the Weavers and the Carvers grew up, there haven’t been many little ones running around.” The voice coming from across the room was wistful. 

Another lamented, “It’s been so quiet.” 

“I really thought the Galkins would have at least one baby by now,” someone else chimed in. 

She felt the arm around her back tense, the only indication Azriel was listening at all. His face was still masked with malaise. 

“Oh, I don’t think we’ve met them yet.” Elain said tilting her head thoughtfully, as if she were trying to put faces to the name. 

Lynn shook her head, “You wouldn’t have. Poor Lisa’s been sick all week. I stopped over a few days ago to invite them tonight, and ended up fixing a pot of my chicken soup instead.” 

That could explain the late-night visit. She wanted to know what Azriel thought about it, but when she turned to face her partner, Elain only made her brows wrinkle with concern. “You alright, baby?” 

He gestured vaguely to his head. “I think I feel a migraine coming on.” 

Her thumb smoothed over the delicate skin below his eye, where any real pain would’ve been concentrated. “Should we go?” 

Azriel shook his head gingerly, the movement nudging his face into the cradle of her hand. “You stay. I’ll be alright.” 

His message came halfway through a discussion about the grass-free landscaping project Demetra and her wife were planning for next year — the first and only stimulating conversation of the evening. 

Did we finish unpacking all the bathroom stuff? Can’t find the Tylenol anywhere.

Sensing someone peering over her shoulder, Elain loosed a chagrined sigh, “I better call him,” and stepped into the hallway. Azriel had been scouting the house from the outside the past few nights, but his description of where the bedroom was made less sense from the inside, so she opened the door to a half-bath and the basement before finding the right one. 

With one last glance over her shoulder, she slipped into the quiet Brian and Lynn’s bedroom. 

Even though she’d been expecting to see him, Elain startled at Azriel’s shadow-cloaked frame looming on Brian and Lynn’s patio, a backpack on his shoulder. She unlatched the door and he stepped in, wearing an almost boyish grin. “Hope you’re not having too much fun without me.” 

Unlike the kitchen, it was easy to decide where in the bedroom to plant the recording device. A stately, and more importantly, heavy-looking headboard dominated most of the far wall. Nobody would be moving it any time soon. 

Elain had to crawl under the bed to stick the bug to the back of the headboard. She wiggled back out, flushed from the effort and Azriel’s bemused expression as he helped her back to her feet. He waited patiently for her to tug her shirt back down and run her fingers through her mussed hair before handing her the second device. 

Just as she was slipping it into her pocket, she heard a voice from the hallway, “... so sorry. I keep telling him to put his damn drink down if he’s got something to say.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Lynn responded, much louder than the first voice. “Just wait, as soon as this little machine does it’s thing, it’ll be like it never happened.” 

Elain barely had time to usher Azriel into the closet and shut the door behind them before Lynn and the other woman, Trina from down the street, entered the room. In the near-dark, Elain could just make out the rows of clothes hanging around them, and a small shelf neatly displaying a collection of handbags and sunglasses. Elain could almost sigh with relief; unless somebody had also gotten a drink spilled down their shirt, the odds of Lynn opening this closet were slim.

The only way to hear all of what was being said would be to press her ear to the door, and shuffling around to do so was not a risk Elain was willing to take. Though the few things she could make out — Bissel, works wonders, eggshell, he says it’s because he’s Sicilian! — didn’t make her feel like she was missing anything important. Anxiety danced down Elain’s spine and Azriel was practically vibrating with tension; he was standing so close she could feel the disturbance in the air around him. 

Within seconds of Elain realizing that Azriel was not just tense, but trembling, the rapid, shallow breathing started. He clamped a hand over his mouth, knowing the importance of staying quiet. Cast perfectly in the sliver of light streaming in from the bedroom, Elain could see that his pupils were blown wide with panic.

She remembered the car, the bashful hand scrubbing the back of his neck. And I don’t really do great in tight spaces. 

In the moment, his confession had conjured imaginings of clammy hands and nervous lip-biting — not this. 

It took Elain a second to gather her wits; the anguish in his eyes was paralyzing. She couldn’t think, only stare back. And she was sure the expression swirling in her own eyes was far from reassuring. 

She knew that reaching for someone on the cusp of a panic attack was uncouth at best, and at worst, like trying to douse embers with accelerant. But she also knew there were still soft voices coming from the other side of the door, and that Azriel was showing no signs of improvement. She needed to do something. Deep pressure could relieve anxiety… or so she’d read once. 

Elain wrapped her arms around Azriel’s body and squeezed.

He went completely rigid, even his desperate breathing came to a halt for one stunned beat. And when he didn’t shove her away, Elain tightened her hold, putting all of her strength into it. His next breath didn’t seem so hard-won. She breathed with him, counting in her head as she went — one, two, three, four seconds in. Hold. Exhale slowly through the nose all the way to eight, tapping each second out with her index finger so Azriel could count with her. 

Gradually, his chest fell into the same rhythm as hers, rising and falling slowly, and the hand Azriel had been using to smother himself moved, curling tightly around Elain’s shoulder, pinning her body to him with his forearm. Her own arms trembled with the strain of holding him together. She listened to his heart slow down instead of the low hum of Lynn and Trina’s voices. She didn’t even notice it fading out, or the click of the bedroom door.

All of her attention was on the hand that had gripped her shoulder, now sliding up to hold the back of her neck, the pressure gentle and warm. Azriel’s thumb worried over her pulsepoint, his gaze heavy. Elain stared back, trying to decipher the storm swirling in his eyes — dread and shame, and something else. Something deep and private and tender. 

He blinked slowly, deliberately. And when his eyes opened again, it was gone, and he was focused only on the small gap in the door. 

“It’s clear,” he whispered, his hand moving down her back, settling at the dip in her spine and using its new position to guide her into the open air of the Forth’s bedroom. Azriel still moved like a man trapped, his steps small and his shoulders stiff as he made his way to the balcony. 

Elain watched his hands — scarred, and steady at last — carry him down the rope. When he hit the grass with a dull thud, she freed the grappling hook from the wrought iron and let it fall at his feet. The din of the party could be heard from outside, but Elain still kept her voice to a whisper, “I’ll see you back at the house.” 

Azriel nodded once before melting into the night.

[oh-meow-swirls]

how does the raft not capsize.

[gtzgoblin]

I've been thinking about this episode all week because I'm gonna have to watch it again with my kid this weekend but I just can't get over Belinda. She started off such a strong character, she was calling the Doctor out on his shit, she didn't want to be there, he was being almost sinister in his attempts to keep her with him and like the time didn't pass for her to be the way she was in the Space Eurovision episode never mind the end of the last one.

Now don't get me wrong, I have a kid, I would go into the box with my kid in a second if there was any risk there. I understand why Belinda did that in character at that moment. But when she vanished, the only person bothered by that was Ruby (which I did feel terrible for her about, don't get me wrong, I was desperate to give her a cuddle coz she's been hard done by these last two series as the Doctor dropped in and destroyed her life as ever). If Belinda had given any sort of unease (in the series to suggest she was a mother and time had changed or at the end when Ruby was creating) I'd be more open to the ending but, like, the Doctor has then saddled this woman with a little kid she had no knowledge of before the event - he literally changed time to make it so - and Poppy didn't even turn out to be his. Now Belinda has an ex and has to work nights and it just could have been written so much better even without changing the ending if they really had to go there - but they didn't! The other weird baby went to Carla. In the Space Babies ep Poppy wanted the Doctor and Ruby to be her parents. Ruby was the one who knew she was gone and cared. I don't understand why Belinda ended up with her when she'd shown absolutely no wish for a kid outside of a situation where she was brainwashed.

And on top of that why was Ruby the only one who knew? Why couldn't Belinda be the special one in that occasion? Her character was just watered down through the series and like, the companions have their flaws, but I've been watching s11 and by the end of that series Yaz has tonnes more depth and she's much younger and much more wobbly in herself (due to age). Amy Pond had a similar storyline and it broke my heart.

The episode itself, and most of the series, I've enjoyed on a surface level (that left me with a bad taste in my mouth admittedly) but that's all down to the acting of the cast, who have been wonderful. Ncuti, Millie, Varada, all of the UNIT cast, Anita Dobson and Archie Panjabi were fantastic (and the Ranis exit sucked too, what a let down) I hated Conrad because Jonah Hauer-King was so good (when Ruby was going on about his dad my heart stopped coz me and my husband had a bet on whether the Master and Lucy Saxon were his parents).

I get that things out of the series' control happened, and things had to change because of it, but everyone deserves a good send off and that send off for poor Ncuti was not only lacklustre (excluding Jodie, but again, she didn't need to be there) but overshadowed as much as his first one (still not over DT getting an award for the regeneration when it was Jodie's exit) which is absolute bullshit for the MAIN CHARACTER of the show. He should have had a better, more pointed regeneration. Even the Rani hitting him with a damn laser or Omega getting him (I'd rather we forgot about Omega altogether though, that also sucked) would've been better than him changing time for no reason.

And why couldn't he have gone to find the real Poppy on his way out, seen her happy with her family, or brought those babies back to earth where someone could've looked after them instead of making Belinda a one-dimensional incubator and happy about it?

Ugh, go back to the £5 budget and filler episodes running down corridors that are flashing red against a Dalek, or something bad CGI with big teeth please. Two of my favourite ever episodes are the Jodie one with the Dalek and the time loop and the Matt one in that hotel with the minotaur and they were just classic Doctor Who: show string budget, non-compicated plot, some cool companion events, the Doctor shows off after thinking it's all doomed.

That's better than this.

(P.S. did I misinterpret the genetic bomb thing? Is that how the Master wiped them all out or not? If so, how did he keep some of them in the cybersuits (I'm guessing he chose specific people he hated most to be exempt), he'll be furious at bigeneration (I stand by that that's a stupid concept though I'm glad Anita is still lurking somewhere), and also how did the Doctor then bigenerate if he's not technically a Time Lord? Is he a Time Lord? I never got the nuance of that so decided to just ignore it...)

(P.P.S I fucking hate gimmicks so I'm not touching that regeneration with a barge pole)

(P.P.P.S if DT doctor regenerates will he regenerate, will he turn into Ncuti again, will he turn into someone else, go backwards into Jodie, or will he just explode and destroy the earth?)

if you asked me a week ago how i thought 15 would die i would have guessed succumbing to his injuries after rescuing rogue from hell and dying homosexually in his arms but. no. instead he dies forcing a baby onto a woman who has never shown interest in motherhood. great...

[liebgirl]

utterly cannot stand the type of post thats like "what are the female characters you like" and i KNOW it's not the fault of the people who make those posts i know they only do it because 95% of this site's blorbos are men. but i hate it anyway. like really the only way you can get fandom people to talk about women is to explicitly tell them to talk about women. and it always comes off so disingenuous because i KNOW most people reblogging those posts would never say those characters on a generic "what are your favorite characters" post. like it's all just so bleak :/

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

for whom good omens is being written

Hey maggots and the rest of the fandom, it's the Good Omens Mascot here. Today I read a post about this tweet:

The accompanying video genuinely made me cry. And I've been thinking about this for a long while, as far back as February, when I saw a lot of conflicting opinions on what people wanted from the third season. It really is true that no matter what you do, some people will be dissatisfied. But what matters is that Neil is writing this for Terry.

And I was reminded of some paragraphs from the Good Omens TV Companion, which I'd read in Amazon's sample excerpt of the book. I know this is a long post, but I really truly do think you all need to read these, I've done my best to select only the most important parts. Here you go:

'His Alzheimer's started progressing harder and faster than either of us had expected,' says Neil, referring to a period in which Terry recognized that despite everything he could no longer write. 'We had been friends for over thirty years, and during that time he had never asked me for anything. Then, out of the blue, I received an email from him with a special request. It read: “Listen, I know how busy you are. I know you don't have time to do this, but I want you to write the script for Good Omens. You are the only human being on this planet who has the passion, love and understanding for the old girl that I do. You have to do this for me so that I can see it." And I thought, “OK, if you put it like that then I'll do it."

'I had adapted my own work in the past, writing scripts for Death: The High Cost of Living and Sandman, but not a lot else was seen. I'd also written two episodes of Doctor Who, and so I felt like I knew what I was doing. Usually, having written something once I'd rather start something new, but having a very sick co-author saying I had to do this?' Neil spreads his hands as if the answer is clear to see. 'I had to step up to the plate.' A pause, then: 'All this took place in autumn 2014, around the time that the BBC radio adaptation of Good Omens was happening,' he continues, referring to the production scripted and co-directed by Dirk Maggs and starring Peter Serafinowicz and Mark Heap. ‘Terry had talked me into writing the TV adaptation, and I thought OK, I have a few years. Only I didn't have a few years,' he says. 'Terry was unconscious by December and dead by March.'

He pauses again. 'His passing took all of us by surprise,' Neil remembers. 'About a week later, I started writing, and it was very sad. The moments Terry felt closest to me were the moments I would get stuck during the writing process. In the old days, when we wrote the novel, I would send him what I'd done or phone him up. And he would say, "Aahh, the problem, Grasshopper, is in the way you phrase the question," and I would reply, "Just tell me what to do!" which somehow always started a conversation. 'In writing the script, there were times I'd really want to talk to Terry, and also places where I'd figure something out and do something really clever, and I would want to share it with him. So, instead, I would text Terry's former personal assistant, Rob Wilkins, now his representative on Earth. It was the nearest thing I had.'

(...) As Neil himself recognizes, this is an adaptation built upon the confidence that comes from three decades of writing for page and screen. But for all the wisdom of experience, he found that above all one factor guided him throughout the process. 'Terry isn't here, which leaves me as the guardian of the soul of the story,' he explains. 'It's funny because sometimes I found myself defending Terry's bits harder or more passionately than I would defend my own bits. Take Agnes Nutter,' he says, referring to what has become a key scene in the adaptation in which the seventeenth-century author of the book of prophecies foretelling the coming of the Antichrist is burned at the stake. ‘It was a huge, complicated and incredibly expensive shoot, with bonfires built and primed to explode as well as huge crowds in costume. It had to feel just like an English village in the 1640s, and of course everyone asked if there was a cheap way of doing it. 'One suggestion was that we could tell the story using old-fashioned woodcuts and have the narrator take us through what happened, but I just thought, “No”. Because I had brought aspects of the story like Crowley and the baby swap along to the mix, and Terry created Agnes Nutter. So, if I had cut out Agnes then I wouldn't be doing right by the person who gave me this job. Terry would've rolled over in his grave.'

And, finally, this paragraph:

"Once again, Neil cites the absence of his co-writer as his drive to ensure that Good Omens translated to the screen and remained true to the original vision. 'Terry's last request to me was to make this something he would be proud of. And so that has been my job.'"

I think that's so heartwrenchingly beautiful, and so I wanted you all to read this, too, just in case you (like me) don't have the Good Omens TV Companion. It adds another layer of depth and emotion to this already complex and amazing story that we all know and love.

Share this post, if you can, please, so that more people can read these excerpts :")

Tagging @neil-gaiman, @fuckyeahgoodomens and @orpiknight, even if you've definitely read these before :)

[adore-gregor]

my perception of grades totally changed since i started uni

[babycharmander]

(THE BOOK OF BILL SPOILERS!!)

Thinking about Bill’s appearance at the end of the book…

[ID: BIll when confronting the Axolotl. He is shown in white silhouette, hovering in space, hovering neutrally. Notably, he has a massive crack running through his body, splitting him into multiple pieces, some of which are coming apart. /end ID]

When confronting the Axolotl, Bill is broken. The Axolotl even notes this: "Shattered, broken, not yet dead."

(Which, side note, makes me think Bill might have been lying about having been "kicked out of Hell," if he didn't actually die in Stan's head.)

[ID: Three pictures of Bill in the Theraprism. The first one shows him holding his hand against the side of his head in a dazed expression, sitting in a chair in a white padded room between a wizard with a clock for a face and Saturn (taken directly from the painting Saturn Devouring His Son). The second is a camera recording of him wearing an orange jumpsuit and kneeling in a cell, surrounded by arts and crafts tools, holding a pair of scissors, and beaming his thoughts frantically into a book. The third shows a mugshot of him staring blankly into the camera, his own name written on coded text below him. In all three images, he has a glowing scar where the cracks were, and is in one piece. /end ID]

When he's shown in the Theraprism, we see a glowing, static-y scar where the cracks were. The scar crosses his entire body (and even crosses to the other side of his eye without affecting it!), but he's actually whole, keeping himself together.

But then...

[ID: Two pictures of Bill from the last pages of the book. In the first one he is facing forward and holding up one finger, his eye reddened, his entire form glitching, and his crack is notably worse than prior, cracking through his eye, multiple smaller pieces drifting away. In the second one he is staring blankly at the viewer, his arms hanging limply, his eye wide and blank, the crack worse than the previous image, with more pieces floating away. /end ID]

In the last few pages, we see the scar is gone and the cracks are back, and even more of him is breaking away, including parts of his eye. It's especially bad in the last image, with even more pieces of him breaking away.

Also noteworthy is that the static texture behind him seems to be the same as the blood sample the US government took from him in the 1940s. He's bleeding.

We know from context that these images are meant to be taken somewhat chronologically. After dying (or nearly dying), Bill seeks out the Axolotl, who sends him to the Theraprism. While there, he writes the journal that he's beaming to us. The staff at the Theraprism catch onto this, and allow him to write out the last few pages, meaning those last few pages are chronologically the last of Bill we see.

This means that, after the events of the show, Bill was shattered... and then, upon entering the Theraprism, started to heal, his body coming together and scars forming... but at some point afterward, he started breaking apart again.

I'd made a post previously about Bill's development, how he views himself as a monster after the Euclidian Disaster, and how he continues to act monstrous afterward (and winds up agonizingly lonely as a result). I didn't really touch on this in the post, but I feel like after inadvertently destroying his home dimension...

Bill never left the denial phase of grief.

I could be wrong on this, but I get the feeling that part of his reason for acting monstrous toward just about everybody is because he sees himself as a monster, because "this is just how I am" is easier to accept than "I really really screwed up."

Bringing this back to his shattering... It's interesting to me that after entering the Theraprism, his body is scarring, which means it is healing. But then, at the end, as he's signing off the book, he's shattered again, and looking even worse than he did when talking to the Axolotl. When talking this over with a friend, they pointed out something that struck me:

Bill does not want to heal.

Healing means having to actually think through what happened. It means having to confront his past, confront destroying his home dimension, confront the harm he caused to others, confront the fact that he did not have to be this way.

And he refuses to do that.

He refuses to heal.

[cosmic-dust-poltergeist]

Pt3 of the Danny is the 99th attempted clone Tim made of Kon. Kon learns about Danny.

Relevant info: Kon was dead closer to a year and a half in this au, and this happens a few months after his revival.

[Pt2: here] [Pt4: here]

So Tim has admittedly been putting off meeting up with the Titans. Everyone has settled back into the new normal. Too much has happened for it to look anything like before, but the other 3 Titans have been hanging out semi-regularly, and Tim turns down their invites 3 of 4 times. He knows it's starting to hurt their feelings, and he hates that.

But... he's scared to admit he's a father now. A father to a clone of one of them. He's not sure how to bring it up. Cassie never asked if he was successful, probably just assumed he failed because there isn't a third Superboy flying around. Jokes on her. Danny isn't going to be a Superboy. He's not allowed to even think about being a hero or vigilante until he's 14 at the earliest, and Tim is going to help him find his own name if he chooses that path. He won't be a Robin or Superboy. He won't live in the shadow of those legacies if Tim can help it.

None of that is relevant for the here and now, though. Tim got Jason to babysit Danny and finally agreed to a hang out with the Titans. He asked Danny for his opinion first before making his decision and got the go ahead. So, Tim is finally going to come clean.

Tim barely makes it into the tower when he's tackled by his friends.

"Tim! You're here!" Bart cheers.

"Yeah, it's good to see you guys too. Sorry I haven't been very present." Tim fidgets. "I've been busy... I also haven't been honest..."

"Tim?" Cassie sounds concerned. And Tim just can't. He extracts himself from the puppy pile. He can't make himself give eye contact. He's sure his guilt and shame are written all over his body language.

"Tim, you can tell us anything." Kon sounds super genuine. Tim takes a deep grounding breath.

"Okay, let's do this like a bandaid." Tim finally looks at them, focusing mostly on Kon. "I have a son. He's technically Kon's, too."

He gets the dubious pleasure of watching his three idiots look at his abdomen, as if he gave birth.

"Why-? Kon, we never fucked!? What the fuck guys??" He sputters, waving his hands in front of him.

"Then how-" Cassie realizes. "Oh!"

"Oh?? What do you mean??" Bart is looking between them and vibrating in confusion. Kon is just looking like a confused and concerned puppy.

"Okay, so, I may have had a breakdown with everyone dying or going missing." Tim grimaces. "And while I was fully aware that even if I succeeded, it wouldn't be Kon, I still tried to clone him. And, um, I did manage to succeed in the end."

"Fuck, Tim.." Kon starts.

"Look, I was in a really fucking dark place and needed even just a piece of good I lost." Tim hugs himself, self loathing burning him from the inside out. "Everyone was turning their back on me, I just needed something, anything, to keep going."

"Fuck, I should have helped..." Cassie bites her lip, chewing on her guilty conscious.

"It's fine. No one was listening. Don't beat yourself up over it. You were in a bad spot, too." Tim gives a humorless laugh. "Danny was my 99th attempt. And my last attempt, if I'm honest. I could feel myself breaking more with each failure. On a fucking whim, I decided to make the 99th attempt a baby instead of trying for a teenager, and it worked. I fucked up a bit, I forgot to adjust the knowledge download to that of a 1 year old, but he was alive. He's the best thing to ever happen to me. I was scared to tell you. I'm sorry-"

"Tim.." Kon cuts him off, and Tim snaps his mouth shut. "I.. I'm honestly not sure how to feel about you cloning me, but I'd like to meet him. What's his name?"

Tim rapidly blinks back tears. "Aedan Drake, he prefers being called Danny. I.. I didn't add Kent because I don't trust Clark with him or give him an El name, I wanted him to understand kryptonian language and culture first. I... I also wanted Danny to be old enough to make the decision over his name himself. I don't want him to be treated like you were. The house of El were so awful to you."

"I understand, Tim." Kon steps towards Tim, "Can.. Can I hug you?"

Tim nods and is swept into a tight hug. He feels something give emotionally, and he sobs into his shoulder. "I fucking love him so much."

"Tell me about him." Kon says softly. He can feel Bart and Cassie hoving, unsure what to do, but unwilling to leave.

"He's physically around 3 now. He loves ghosts and space and named the wolf plushy I bought him on his first day alive Wulf." There's some chuckles over that. "He's sassy and petty, but insanely sweet and tries to help out with any and all tasks. I see so much of both of us in him. Nature vs Nurture is a messy bitch. You remember what I said my start as Robin was like?"

"How you had to babysit a grown ass man and force him into better habits?" Cassie snarks.

"Karma's a funny bitch. Danny started doing the same shit to me as soon as he figured out how to walk." Tim giggles. "Anytime we weren't in danger, he'd force me to take care of injuries and to eat and sleep. And I'd do it because what kind of monster denies a baby trying to be helpful... plus he gets really stressed and depressed if he can't help."

Tim grips the back of Kon's shirt. "I don't understand how he developed my people pleaser tendencies so early on. We were stuck on LoA bases when he first started doing everything in his power to help me. I was purposely being a little shit to our "hosts" at the time. So it wasn't a surprise that he developed a Robin's need to troll, but he only saw me be nice to him."

"The LoA??" Kon asks in alarm.

"It was a rough year..." Tim scowls. "And if I see Ra's again, I'm gutting him. B's rules be damned."

"What happened?" Cassie asks, suddenly a lot closer.

"He's a creep, a pedo, and a child abuser." Kon rubs Tim's suddenly very stiff back and shoulders. "I could handle him being creepy towards me. While gross and awful to have a disgusting 300 or something year old man trying to wife me-"

"Excuse me???"

"He WHAT?"

"-I'm more pissed I couldn't protect Danny. I don't know what that piece of shit did when I couldn't take Danny with me, but Danny is linked to the pit now. He luckily doesn't have pit rage like Jason, but he can calm Jason's pit and apparently glows according to Duke." Tim sobs. "I should have killed the man when I had a chance. I don't know what he did to Danny!"

"It's not your fault, Tim." Kon hugs Tim tightly, it's almost painful. "You were in a tough spot and doing your best to keep you both alive."

"Just focus on healing and moving on." Bart says while running a hand through Tim's hair. Cassie rubs both Tim and Kon's backs as Tim gets himself under control.

"Can.. can I meet him?" Kon whispers.

"I'd love for you to meet him." Tim sniffles. "He was nervous you'd hate him for existing. I apparently passed on my stupid anxiety. I couldn't quite get him to believe me when I told him he wouldn't be who you'd be mad at if you got mad. He wants to meet you, but I accidentally made the most jaded baby in the world."

"A Super raised by a Bat is going to be terrifying." Bart giggles. "We'll have to make sure he doesn't become a supervillain."

"Meh. He's too cute. If he goes evil, all he has to do is pout and he'll instantly win." Tim jokes, wiggling out of the hug. "Want to see pictures?"

There's a very strong positive response. The next 3 hours finds Tim showing off pictures and explaining the stories behind them, his team melting at how cute his son is. Tim feels the lightest he's felt in a while. He does have to promise Bart and Cassie to bring Danny over once Kon and Danny meet one on one first.

What Tim doesn't know is Kon is absolutely obsessed with and slightly horny over this parental side of Tim. He's fully daydreaming of the 3 of them living together and being disgustingly domestic the whole time Tim is showing off Danny. Cassie can tell what Kon is thinking about and is amused.

Once Tim leaves, the Titans go to the training room and fuck up some bots because of the rage they feel on Tim and Danny's behalf. They all agree to be as petty as possible to any LoA members they come across and to murder Ra's the moment there's an opportunity to do so without the JL knowing. Tim isn't the only unhinged one on this team. That's why they work so well together.

[thinkinonsense]

call me if you're lonely⟡

old man!logan howlett x phone sex hotline worker!reader

cw: dirty talk, mutual masturbation

author's note: very short. just an idea that came to mind.

masterlist

this is so desperate, logan thought to himself as he dialed the number written on the fourth page in the second column. in pretty cursive words it read, call me if you're lonely!

your number had been living in the back of his head for almost a month now but he never got this close to calling it. in the column, it's written that you are a college student working on your masters degree and that you are very popular within your profession as a phone sex hotline worker. honestly, logan didn't care if you just started yesterday. he's been so stressed and overworked lately that he needs a release soon. logan waited as the phone rang after entering his card information. he's sat up on the old mattress under him, waiting patiently to see if anyone answers.

on the third ring, someone picks up.

"thanks for calling, hush hotline." you say, giving him the typical welcome speech before jumping straight in. "what would ya' like me to call you tonight, sugar?"

the sweet tone in your voice made logan's boxers feel tighter. resting his hand on top of his heavy cock, squeezing lightly and slowly stroking himself over the thin material.

"james is fine, honey." logan mutters.

"i like the way you call me, honey." you purr, getting relaxed in bed.

you had a long day; woke up late, missed class, messed up during important meeting at work and needed to blow off some steam. normally, the people you talk to over the phone don't have an effect on you, instead opting to fake it and offer phony pornstar like moans but something made you want to give it another shot.

"is that so?"

the stranger's voice was rough around the edges. deep, cold, straight to the point. it sent a shiver up your spine. usually, your customers were weak. willing to give into your every word and fully submit to you.

"mhm," you hum, lightly running your fingers up and down your thigh. "so, what's gotcha call in tonight, james? rough day at work or you just wanna hear me touch myself for you?"

"bit of both." he was already lost in this little world between the two of you.

“aw, can’t wait to make you feel good." you tell him, playing with the lace of your underwear. "wanna hear what i'm wearing right now?"

"mhm." he grunts.

"a white t-shirt and lacy blue underwear. wish you were here to take them off of me." you sigh, slipping your hand under the waistband.

"what would you do if i was there right now?"

"hmm, think i'd start by kissing you, making sure you get nice and hard for me then i would beg you to fuck my tight throat for hours. are you hard for me right now?"

"y-yes." logan sighs, trying to slow down a bit.

"that's sweet, james. got me blushing just thinkin' about it." you run your middle finger through your folds, gathering the slick and circling your button a couple times.

"just blushing?" he teases, catching you off guard.

"not 'just blushing'." you giggle softly. "you also got me r-really–ah, fuck! really soaked."

logan could hear the obscene squeak of you dipping your fingers inside of yourself. his chest moves up and down at the same rhythm as his strokes. your pretty little gasps made it difficult for him not to release right away.

"s-shit, honey." he groans, listening to the small wet slaps of you fucking yourself. "wanna taste that pussy of yours. i'm sure it's as sweet as that fuckin' mouth you got on you, honey."

never have you actually gotten wet from the men that call you. most of them let you do all the talking, only offering moans and whimpers. you couldn't quite place a finger on it but something about james was doing it for you.

"w-wish it was you inside of me instead of my fingers." you whine, tickling the spot that makes your vision blur.

"bet you would look so pretty wrapped around my cock, honey."

"i would look even prettier with you dripping out of me." faintly, you can hear him shuffling around, trying to stifle his groans. "don't hide yourself, baby. wanna hear you."

like a rubber band, something snapped inside of logan. unable to control his noises anymore, he's fucking his fist faster than before, chasing after every little moan you let out.

you move to rubbing your button switching occasionally, picturing the man that you believe james to be. a little older and rugged. maybe even someone your father would be friends with. someone you would definitely have a secret crush on.

logan's hips thrusted with need. the louder you got, the faster his orgasm was approaching. he had to hold off, he thought to himself. hear you cum first. by the broken whines and little hiccups you let out, he could tell you were only moments away from your release.

"f-fuck, i'm so close." you squeal, legs shaking a little as you near your high.

"me too, honey."

within seconds, your head is thrown back against the silky pillow case. the sheets under you were drenched but you were too full of bliss to care. logan finally allowed himself to let go as well, pearly white spurts coating his lower stomach and even some landing on his tank top. it's quiet for a minute or so before your little giggles can be heard on the other end of the line.

"something funny?" he asks, confused.

"no, no, it's just..." you giggle again with a sigh. "ever since i started this job, no one's ever made me orgasm. at least not like that."

"hm.." logan couldn't fight off the smile creeping on his face. "might need to call more often then."

"i'll be looking forward to it."

[senascoop]

SENA’S FAVOURITES ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 TAG GAME

Ꮺ by @iovestuck and I might've added-edited some questions to my liking. all of these answers are genuine and not with the bias of some of them being my moots. also, extremely sorry if I didn't add you on here. most of them are nsfw so... minors please do not interact. (💌)

001. WHAT ARE YOUR FAVOURITE FANFICS?

HOW I MET YOUR MOTHER — @i2sunric

i already yapped a lot when I first read her fic but this was personally really really cute to read and I loved heeseung’s and the reader’s bickering a lot.

THE PERFECT COPY — @florestalio

if this fanfic was a person I'd date them lol. this was something new and easily secured a seat in my favs.

STILL INTO YOU — @i2sunric

another one of casey’s work that I love a lot.

COULD I BE MORE OBVIOUS? — @rkvriki

this was written like a year ago and is still really good. especially the way it actually captured the “rich ceo husband” vibes.

BUT DADDY I LOVE HIM — @heechwe

what were you thinking when you wrote that lexi? i couldn't find a single bad thing about the fic when i first read it and ngl it still remains as one of my fav.

FIXED COMFORT — @paarksunghoon

coming back to read this after a bad day and this never fails to bring a smile on my face even if I've already re-read this a lot of times.

002. FANFICS YOU'VE READ RECENTLY?

haven't read much lately but this has to be my list — heehoon jerking off together while thinking of the reader. part one, part two not sure if there's more parts, sharing = caring , and then this mind-blowing fic by casey, heavenly , i personally found this one cute, and then I've read this smtg about toxic situationship heeseung, then this one from mochiwonz which made me laugh, this from yuvany, reader is mean in this one but it's good, little lamb ... I have more but I can't exactly add all of them here—so if you're looking for fic recs, you should check @senascoooop

003. WHAT FANFICS DO YOU THINK SHOULD GET MORE RECOGNITION?

PUPPY ANTICS — @florestalio

I always re-read this because well... no reason-just the descriptions and the scene (though I hate angel for cutting it short...)

YOU’RE LOSING ME — @i2sunric

y'all are missing out on a lot of good stuff if you haven't read this angsty angst fic.

CORPSE BRIDE — @yuvany

start to end-just perfection.

BEWITCHED — @p4ranormaluv

to describe this fic in one word would be #wtfdidijustread? In a good way ofc. this deserves way more notes than it has right now.

TIL DEATH DO US PART — sena

TIED UP IN YOU — sena

self promo lol but I actually like these two of my works and they might as well be my best ones till now.

HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN 10 DAYS — @flwrstqr

a really fun fic to read, especially with the way both the reader and heeseung’s goal was definitely not to fall in love... but the two anyways did so.

VENOM — @gyuuberryy

the tension in this one and half way transformation of jay was just wowwww.

HORROR — @starryjake

the smut was rather really... cute alongside the ending...

666 — @simpjaes

a big fan of dark fics. and this was absolutely flawless!!

Not really a fanfic but rather sfw niki audio by @vanesycho part one, part two, part three, part four. I usually listen to these when I'm feeling down or can't fall asleep.

004. FAVOURITE AUTHORS?

all of my moots ofc lol but other than that ,

@i2sunric — all of her fics are hits and i personally really really really love them.

@florestalio — first found out about her through the fic “human or not” and I liked it from the go. and nevertheless-even if it's been a little time, I think we match the freak nonetheless.

@yuvany — she was in my favs the second i read corpse bride. then there's miss ugly duckling and her recent jay fic... absolutely amazing.

@p4ranormaluv — do I even need to have a reason for her to be here? she's really talented with the way she writes. Though I hope she's enjoying her break <3

@heechwe — every time you think someone can't get more sweet... lexi replies. even her fics are chefs kiss.

@gyuuberryy — she's my hype girl (ofc I'll add her on here and also bcz her fics are a big mwahh)

@mochiwonz — we aren't moots or anything but her works (smaus) randomly came in my for you page and i actually enjoyed a lot of them (so I'm adding her here too)

@paarksunghoon — every time a hard thought of hers comes into my for you-i know my evening's not gonna be so boring. y’all should read her fixed comfort and you plus me fic. 100% recommended.

@starryjake — another author who's also really good at making hard thoughts and fics :)

005. WHICH AUTHOR/READER DO YOU ADMIRE/ADORE THE MOST AND WHY?

all of my readers and moots ^^

but aside from them, i admire casey (i2sunric) & jazmine (p4ranormaluv) a lot and sort of started to write after reading their works <3

now I adore a lot of authors and readers but angel (florestalio) and ady (gyuuberry) have a special place in my heart. and I've actually gotten used to seeing some frequent readers which I absolutely notice and adore but the loud ones so far would be @zyvlxqht @flowerwinds (thank you so much for showing nothing other than love to me and my works) 🫶🏻💗

NOTE FROM SENA , i don't really read a lot which might explain why I don't have some more popular fics or authors in the recs. I'm also very sorry if I've forgotten someone (totally not intentional) this was really fun to make...thank you rain (iovestuck) you're another sweetie I found on blr :)

ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 tagging anyone who wants to join

[sqgeism]

hey there!!! love your work sm eheheh

anyway, i was wondering if you could (perchance) do a vampire reader x dr ratio? preferably where the reader is STARVING and bites him lolol

stay safe and stay silly!!

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵 𐙚 take a look into my eyes | dr. ratio and anaxagoras (seperate) x gender neutral reader

💌 — ; can you feel the tension ? between us boy, i know you want this potion ! bloodstains : a course of how to have a vampire lover. written by anaxagoras and dr. ratio.

love mail — hi anonnie ! thank u sm for requesting >< misread the comment originally and wrote vampire anaxagoras b4 scrapping as i reread it (;´Д⊂) anaxa's is lowkey suggestive.. experimental fic.. and if you can give me criticism on that part i'd really appreciate it cus i don't write make outs often (´；ω；`) this was so weirdly long mama help

,to be quite frank, dr. ratio figured it out before you revealed yourself to him. it explained why you seemed to never sleep, or your fast regeneration, things like that. so when you two started dating, he kept an eye on how you satiated your appetite. even if you didn't like it.. fresh, red meat from butchers weirdly worked. instead of buying the packaged stuff—ratio accompanied you to a butcher every week to get a big slab of undrained cow meat. then it'll be your meal till it would no longer suffice.

unfortunately, not only did it not taste good, but it was barely enough to keep you functioning. you had enough strength to move and do usual tasks, but your power was significantly weaker, as well as regeneration. your body responds negatively to the lack of proper blood, but still accepts it as such. like forcing yourself to eat uncooked meat. (which is what you were doing)

and because of your weakening state, and having your arm chopped off after a battle.. it was regenerating, worry not (albeit very slow). but then, to your dismay, you two got into an argument. "your cowardice is killing you." ratio began with a sharp tone, causing you to scoff. "what am i supposed to do, ratio? bite random people on the streets?" you retorted, and he lets out a forced, amused laugh.

"your solution stands before you, (name)."

he looms over you. "bite me, for aeon's sake. you think a measly bite will hurt, compared to the suffering you go through?" he's never sounded so.. mad, but gentle. his hand grips your unharmed shoulder, grip like a vice yet still tender. "bite me." he demands, yet also pleads.

dr. ratio begging is a sight you never thought you'd see, but his eyes pierce through you in complete seriousness. he won't let you leave this conversation without a bite mark on his neck, and you don't remember how long it's been since you've had mortal blood. "..f-fine."

in your weakened state, your legs force themselves to stand. your body really only has the strength to lean against him, as his arms wrap around you to keep you stable. your head weakly makes its way to his exposed bicep, and his hand guides you, knowing it likely won't hit anything vital.. and it's the easiest to access currently. after all, your other arm is far from fully regenerating, and ratio was starting to worry that the blood you had wasn't enough.

slowly, your mouth opens—revealing eager teeth but still hesitant. you hover over his arm for a bit, before slowly biting down.

he doesn't wince, not at all, but he does grunt at the initial bite. he listens to you slowly feed, feeling the blood drain from his body as he stands tall. and while he's faltering, you grow stronger. hell, your intact arm grips his hips as you dig deeper. little mumbles as you suck on his arm, like it's the last drop of blood you'll ever have.

you're brought back to reality as ratio's head slumps against yours and you pull your teeth out quickly, licking the bite and stopping any more blood with a cloth. "ratio!"

you don't even realize that your other arm has regenerated as you use it to stabilize him. guiding him back down on the chair you were just sat on as he groans. he can't speak, he's too lightheaded to try. but he feels lips press against his and a whisper of a sorry before he completely slips.

you care for him till he wakes up. feeling much.. much stronger, but needing to communicate how they'll go on forward. after all, you liked that a bit too much. and with the way ratio's heart was racing, you can make a wild guess that it was either adrenaline or attraction.

anaxa doesn't feel too weird about your vampirism. it explained the long sleeves constantly, big hats and umbrellas, fangs that came with sharp nails.. typical vampire lover packaging.

though something he found intriguing, was that you never drank raw, mortal blood. it was always blood bags.. nothing that had a beating heart. you were always so delicate that way.. even as your body physically withered, you wouldn't have your fangs get anywhere close to a human.. especially not anaxa.

but coming with you when you were hungry always.. saddened him. after getting your hands on a blood bag that are provided to keep those of your kind that aren't too far gone.. at least a little sane—you clearly never liked it. described it as too cold, bitter, and was the vampire equivalent of spoiled milk.

it didn't help all too much either. while it kept your hunger at bay, you were still much weaker compared to your full potential. you could transform, regenerate quickly, hide in shadows.. but you could only do the last one. and as previously established, even if regeneration is part of your abilities, it was greatly weakened. your body didn't have enough energy or blood to regenerate with, therefore straining your physical and mental.

and it was a great trouble for you, because the demands of an astral express member was starting to get rougher. all while you weren't regenerating in time to be able to meet what was expected of you. missions were getting rougher, injuries were worsening, and your body couldn't catch up to it all.

so that leads you here, a large gash in your face as you lay in anaxa's lap, waiting for the pain to disappear as you rustle and turn, unable to really rest due to the uncomfortable sensation. you can feel your muscles trying to pull themselves back together, skin sparing no effort to resort itself. and anaxa is doing no better. he pushes your hair away to see the full extent of the wound, and his heart aches. you're in so much pain.. yet you won't do what you have to in order to fix it. "my dove, please." you know what he's going to offer, and you'll refuse it every time. "anaxa, no. i swore i wouldn't bite after turning." yet you aren't getting any better. you've been like this for hours, and changing what you wear won't erase the wounds he knows are still healing beneath your top.

he doesn't want his frustration to get the better of him, but the scholar quietly seethes. you're being so stubborn—for what? too afraid to hurt him? he loves you for your selflessness, but he's not above begging you to be selfish for once.

in the silence of your struggles, his brain is racking to figure out a way to get you to drink his blood. considering his loss of morality and not necessarily caring if something is harmful to him, he doesn't think twice about what happens to him. just as long as you're okay.. staring down at your lips a little too long gives him an idea.

he taps your shoulder softly, and one anaxa's hand makes it's way to your back to slowly guide you back up to him, the other resting on your hip. "my love, i know it's a bad time. but may i kiss you? i know that you're in pain, and i'd like to do anything i can to make you feel better." you seem hesitant at first, thinking your bloodied wound would make you a little.. unattractive to your boyfriend, but it's anaxa, it makes sense why he wouldn't care. so you nod and barely get a breath in before he's all over you.

it isn't the short kisses anaxa has been known for to you, it's hungry. he's practically devouring you, the vampire between you both, might i add. it doesn't help that he's dipping down to you and keeping your head in place with his hand, effectively trapping you in his little plan. the other, while you're too busy melting against his advances, squeezes you—harshly. it causes you to make the sweetest noise that he's sure to relish, but more importantly—your mouth opens just enough for your fangs to be exposed. that's when he forces your lower jaw upwards, making you bite his lip hard enough to bleed.

he groans, no doubt, but he doesn't pull away. in fact, this is where he returns with much more fervor. you panic in realization of what he's done, but anaxa's grip is unforgiving. he's making sure that his blood gets and stays in your mouth.

your struggle doesn't last long, thankfully. because your worry turns into relief, as the long forgotten taste of human blood begins to flood your tastebuds. eventually he doesn't need to hold your head for you anymore, you've recovered from your lightheadedness and began to take initiative as well. kissing him softly and licking the blood clean off of his lips.

when you finish with one last peck, you look at your lover with a bit of conflict. unsure whether or not to be upset or.. thankful. because the pain has stopped, and you feel stronger. your body doesn't ache as much either. "you're a madman." is all you grumble, hitting his chest.

the scholar laughs, burying his head against your hair. "whatever you say, dove."

© sqgeism or wtv (^_^;)

[wolviensabes]

Logan and pregnancy.

RQ: 'Logan taking care of his pregnant girlfriend perchance 🤔' -@wheezyth3dem0n

Warnings: F!reader, pregnancy themes, written in HC style.

A/N: I just wrote pregnancy hcs on my main blog so let's keep the theme going. Ignore grammar mistakes, not edited.

Logan knows you're pregnant instantly when the scent of your hormones change.

He looks to you and he isn't sure how to feel just yet. He hadn't planned on getting you pregnant, it wasn't something that he ever thought about. But it was his reality now, and he wasn't too sure on how to feel.

He was just a little wary jumping into something so permeant, considering your lifestyles. The dangers that are involved, all he thought about was how the baby would be in constant danger. Especially knowing it would most likely be mutant.

You were a little hurt, knowing he was a bit standoffish since the discovery, but after some thinking he had come around and explained what he was thinking about, and how he was just worried about its upbringing. It was reassuring that he comforted you in this sense, even if it initially hurt when he backed off.

"M'sorry, this is all...new to me. I never thought I'd be a dad...of all people." Logan grumbled to you, rubbing your back to try to reassure you that he was happy, it was just...a lot for him to take in.

When you begin to show, Logan's presence starts to become more and more. His missions are spread out a bit more, and he spends more time around you. At first, your pregnancy is mostly independent, besides him being around in the evening. You figure it's because he's still processing that you are carrying his kin, but as he starts to come around more often, you're surprised but decide not to mention it.

Logan starts to observe you closer, his hands often find your belly and rub it. He can hear the heartbeat, and he leans closer so he can rest by your belly. Most nights are like this when he's not holding you. He pays close attention to your habits, as well as schedule, memorizing everything you do day to day. When you get a little bigger, he notices daily tasks are a bit more difficult for you.

"Let me help," Logan insisted gruffly, watching you try to pick up clothes for laundry. He worded it more like a demand than offer, he didn't like how you were bending over so often.

"I got it, Logan, really," your stubbornness insisted you could handle it, but he had his doubts. He could see your clear struggle, he could sense you were tired but you were so stubborn.

"Enough." he demanded and gently pulled you away from the laundry, his arms strong around you and easily maneuvering you around. He sat you down and pointed at you. "Stay." he ordered.

Logan brings you food, he doesn't cook a lot but he still tries. He gets help from Jean or Storm. But he's always the one to bring it to you. He displays a lot of instinctual habits by now, especially since you're showing more now. Something inside him just...triggers when he sees your swollen belly. When you walk around the mansion for some exercise, he is right there with you, his eyes scanning the halls and every single person around you.

He growls at people who come close, he is so insanely protective over you now. It shocks you the first time he about lunges at Scott when he asked you how far along you were. "Logan!" you watched your feral boyfriend literally snarling at Scott.

"Get your eye off her, slim." he hissed, his voice was venomous and mean. Scott was just as surprised, even for Logan he was acting much more aggressive. You pulled Logan along, muttering an apology to Scott along the way.

"Logan what the hell! He was just asking how far I was," you muttered, your bristled boyfriend still had an irritated expression. His nostrils flared as he looked down at you. "Easy...it's fine. He's gone, just relax..." you rubbed your hands over his chest, soothing him from his protective mode.

He piles you into the shared room you have, he gets you all settled on the bed and cozy, there are so many blankets and pillows there and they act as excellent support for your large belly. He makes sure you're as comfy as possible, he fusses a lot by grumbling and making sure you have enough blankets. "Keep the baby warm." he grunts at you, covering you with a blanket as if your baby will get cold.

Logan likes to lay close to your belly, he can hear the baby and smell the change you emit because of all the hormones. He hears the baby moving around too, he enjoys listening to his little one in there.

You end up bound to the bed for a while, your ankles were so swollen and you were weak as the pregnancy progressed. You relied on him and he was more than happy to comply. He rubs your swollen ankles and feet, leaning forward and letting his facial hair tickle your belly.

When you feel your hormones flare, you get emotional and worried about labor and birth, all the normal worries for a mother to be. Logan sits with you and lets you vent your worries, but he is also the voice of reason during your emotional episodes. He always reassured you, telling you it would be alright, he was here with you, and he'd never let anything happen to you.

When your little one does arrive, it will be the most protected baby on the planet, not only the baby, but you too. Like hell anyone will get the chance to harm you with Logan by your side.

Thanks for reading.

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

[neil-gaiman]

hi neil. i've held off on writing this message for a bit because i didn't know if i could get it out or not.

i work in a senior healthcare facility. not a nurse or anything, i actually just serve food to the residents, but it's given me the ability to get to know a lot of the people that live there. because of this, i was able to befriend a wonderful lady named sally. she would always come talk to me while i served up the meals, and we'd have nice chats. she spent most of her time reading books, since she didn't like to do many of the activities with the other residents, and since she loved books with mystery and suspense, i loaned her my copy of american gods, thinking that she'd enjoy it. and she did! i loved it when she'd come talk to me about the chapter she'd just read, our little chats about wednesday, just everything. i was happy that she liked the book.

our chats kind of tapered off after awhile, and we didn't talk as much. she's had my book for well over a year now, which i hadn't minded, but she eventually started picking up our chats again, about the book. but she was talking about how she had just started reading it and that she was really interested in it so far. i came to realize some time later that sally was actually just finally showing signs of dementia, which was saddening for me to hear, but it's one of the heavy realities of working in a facility like this. she had always struggled with some memory and speech issues, but i'd always chalked it up to her older age.

anyway. i am saddened by this onset, but at the same time, i am also finding some strange comfort in knowing that she will come up to me at breakfast, wanting to talk to me about american gods, because she's forgotten that she's already read most of it, and she just reads the first few chapters over and over. she doesn't leave her room without it, she brings it to the table with her every day. when she leaves the facility with her family for an outing, she brings it with her. i am just. so comforted knowing that your book i loaned her a year ago is a source of joy and delight for her, and continues to be so over and over. i know i'll never get that book back, and i won't ever try to get it back from her, even if she stops reading it. i want her to keep it.

i now have a streak regarding losing my books that you've written, i'm two for two now, haha

idk. i'm just really kind of overwhelmed today by all the emotions surrounding it and i'm just happy that you wrote something that she likes so much, and that we talk about it even though she doesn't remember that we've talked about it a dozen times before. i love each and every chat with her so much, and i want to keep having them with her for as long as i can. thank you for your work.

Some of the happiest hours of my life were spent with a friend with advanced Parkinson's dementia, sitting on his porch with him, both of us reading. And he read the same few pages over and over and it was okay.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

baby girl. l Clint "Freaky Tales"

Summary: you barely knew him, but he was the one who helped you

Warnings: angst, fluff, smut (+18), aggressive boyfriend and toxic relationship, violence (mentioned, but also described a bit), some blood, unprotected sex (don't do that), fingering

A/N: my first story for this character. please be gentle. i don't know if i'll go down this path, i wanted to try and maybe i pushed myself too hard. let me know what you think.

your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

[my masterlist]

"Girls like you aren't common here."

A low but pleasant voice reached you despite the music playing in the dim pub. You tore your gaze away from the group of men playing pool on the other side and looked at the guy who was leaning against the bar right next to you.

A black leather jacket hugged his broad shoulders. His dark hair was slicked back, but you could see a few strands of gray in it. A prominent nose, brown eyes that looked almost black in this poor lighting, a mustache, and a light stubble. The scar marred his face, but also gave him a dangerous look of a guy not to be trifled with.

Clint. You knew his name, although it was the first time you had heard his voice.

"What kind of girl do you mean?" you asked, turning your gaze back to the players.

"Smart. Sly." you smiled, shaking your head "Delicate. Beautiful. With a good heart."

"I'm neither of them." you replied.

"Are you sure?"

Your gaze wandered back to Clint, who took a sip of beer and seemed to pay no attention to you. He was a frequent guest here, but you had never talked before. Honestly, it was rare for a guy in this place to talk to you. The girls were more like decorations here, trophies that accompanied their men. Or maybe owners? Clint always came alone though.

You knew that well, because there was no way you could miss his presence. Quiet, commanding respect. However, when your eyes met sometimes, you noticed a slight nod, a quiet greeting, to which you responded with a barely noticeable smile.

"Maybe you really aren't that smart." he muttered after a moment as if thinking it over "You're hanging around with that shitty guy from Max."

"Hey, you're talking about my boyfriend." you hissed, feeling it was your duty to defend someone who hadn't paid attention to you for almost an hour.

"I know who I'm talking about. And you know I'm right." Clint took another sip of beer. "You didn't meet him in the library, so how did you get into this?"

You didn't answer for a moment, staring at Clint's profile and wondering where this conversation was headed.

"What's your problem? And why do you care?" you finally replied. "I am where I want to be."

He nodded, accepting your weak answer and not asking any more questions. He finished his beer in silence, put a few dollars on the bar, and then reached into his other pocket and pushed a rectangular note towards you.

"If you need help," he added quietly.

You glanced at the phone number written on the note. "What made you think I'd need it?"

Clint shrugged, then looked over at the guys playing pool. "Just a hunch."

You bit your lip when you heard the connection sound in the receiver.

"C'mon, c'mon..." you repeated quietly, drumming your fingers on the steering wheel.

Maybe no one will pick up? Maybe it was a sign that you shouldn't do this? You were about to hang up when you heard a familiar voice on the other end. You closed your eyes feeling relieved.

"Clint?" you whispered.

"Hey, baby girl. What happened?"

He didn't expect to hear your sobbing and immediately felt a cold shiver run down his spine. "Where are you?" a short question, one of a few he had to ask you.

"I-I..." you stuttered, but you took a deep breath and finished "I'm in the car, on the side of the road outside the city."

"Okay. Are you hurt?"

Another deep breath. "N-No, not really. We started arguing. He was drunk, he started shouting and, and then..."

The silence on the other end was so loud that you were at a loss for words. You gripped the steering wheel tighter and looked around the dark area. It was already around midnight. Finally, Clint's voice rang through the receiver again.

"There's a motel not far from where you are."

"The Misty Valley. I saw a sign. But what..."

"Go there. Michael will give you a room, tell him I sent you."

"Clint, I can't!" you whined, tears escaping from under your eyelids. "I should... I should go back."

"No." He interrupted you abruptly, you heard a slam like a car door closing. "Go where I told you. And wait."

"For what?"

The phone fell silent.

You didn't know if it was what you expected when you dialed Clint's number. A few weeks have passed since your conversation. You didn't talk much, it was rather quiet nods, gentle smiles. His hand, which brushed your arm slightly, so that only the two of you knew about it.

You met him once in the city. That was the first time he called you "baby girl", and you didn't protest. You didn't protest either when he put his hand on the small of your back and offered to give you a ride. It was the beginning of the end.

The soft carpet muffled your steps as you walked through the small hotel room for the hundredth time. The clock on the nightstand showed that it was already after one in the morning, but you didn't feel sleepy at all. Adrenaline was coursing through your veins like a drug not allowing your brain and muscles to rest.

Your phone was silent. Michael asked you to close the door properly and you did so without asking unnecessary questions. Every now and then you would sit on the bed, but then you would get up again and walk around in circles.

Only a knock on the door made you snap out of your trance.

"It's me, baby girl." a familiar voice rang out, and you sighed with relief.

With trembling hands you took off the chain and opened the door, noticing a familiar face behind it.

"It's you." you whispered.

But Clint didn't smile at the sight of you. Quite the opposite. He frowned and made a move as if he wanted to step back and leave, but in the end he nodded. His hand went to your face, he watched you closely.

"You didn't say anything about that..." he said indignantly "Fucking bastard!"

"It's nothing." you tried to calm him down, your fingers tightened around his wrist, drawing his attention to you again "What did you..."

"Not enough." he interrupted you "Can I come in?"

You opened the door wider and stepped back, smelling the cigarettes and remnants of Clint's cologne. The door closed with a quiet click and the hotel room became your safe place. 

Clint took off his jacket without a word, threw it on the armchair, went to the bathroom and returned a moment later with a wet cloth.

“Sit down,” he ordered, and you wordlessly complied, sitting on the bed.

He sat down next to you and you hissed in pain when he put the cloth to your lip. The intense emotions made you completely forget about what had happened. You knew about the cut lip because you could taste the blood, you could also have a swollen cheek.

"Son of a bitch." Clint hissed. "Did he do this for the first time?"

You nodded.

"Good girl. Although you should have left earlier. I saw him dragging you..."

"It was nothing. It was just today... He was furious and..."

Clint's dark eyes met yours. You had the impression that he was scanning you through, that he read your face before you said anything.

"What was it about?" he asked.

"You."

You saw that he swallowed hard. He could probably guess it. But that wasn't important now.

"What did you do, Clint?" Brown eyes averted from yours. "Did you..."

"I didn't kill him, even though he deserved it." he replied, his voice stern and cold. "You can be sure that he'll think twice before he lays a finger on a woman. And I also met with Max. He'll take care of him properly."

Although his voice scared you, you felt a spark of satisfaction burning in your chest. Your guy wasn't perfect, but you didn't expect that from him. The infatuation made you blind to his dark side and it was only what happened that brought you back to earth.

"Thank you..." your voice was quiet but determined "Thank you, Clint."

"He'll never touch you again, I promise. And if he tried..."

He flinched as he felt your hand close around his and squeeze slightly.

"Thank you."

He looked at you. Clint's eyes were full of everything, even the things he couldn't say.

"You know, he was jealous of you." You said, looking down, feeling how pathetic your words might be. "I told him that we were just friends, that he had nothing to worry about. That you never looked at me differently. But he..."

Clint cleared his throat and straightened up. "What did he say?"

"Ummm, he said that one of his friends saw us. He also knew that we met a few times at the video store." You snorted. "I told him that we never... That it was stupid, because you never..."

"He was right to feel insecure." Clint mumbled. "But I would never do something that you wouldn't want me to do."

It was a shock. You stared at Clint like he was crazy. Yes, he was nice to you, he treated you differently than your boyfriend and his friends, but you would never think...

And those accidental touches? His lingering gaze, even when you weren't looking? And somehow you always met him when you were alone and in neutral places. Clint never treated you like others. He was different. Maybe you even waited for these meetings?

"I should apologize to you." he said after a moment of silence. "If I knew that my attention would bring something like this to you... You didn't deserve it."

"Clint, you're not the one who did this to me. Don't say that. If I had something against it, or if you crossed the line, I would have told you, I swear."

"But if it wasn't for me..."

"I don't want to think about what would have happened if it wasn't for you."

Your words hung between you. Clint stared at you, and you didn't look away either. Maybe that's when it hit you. You were free. You were safe. And it was all thanks to Clint.

"Thank you, Clint. Thank you for what you did. You didn't have to..."

"But I wanted to, baby girl. I would have done much more to keep you safe."

You didn't need more. Your warm hands cupped his face, and you moved closer, kissing his soft lips tenderly. You were pleased to feel his hands grip your waist, kneading your body gently. He wanted you, what a relief.

Clint ran his tongue over your lower lip, and when you spread them apart, he pushed it deeper, drawing a sweet moan from your throat. You had no idea how long he had been waiting for this, to be able to feel your taste, or the warmth of your body. You didn't protest when he laid you on the bed and covered you with his solid body. Kisses went down to your neck and collarbone, his hand slid under your shirt.

"Tell me you want this..." he whispered. "Tell me you want me."

"I want you. I want you so bad, Clint."

He wanted to have time to take care of you, to caress your body like you deserved, but that would have to wait until next time. Deft fingers unbuttoned the belt of his pants and his hard cock slipped out of his jeans, leaking and hot.

"Shit!" he hissed as you grabbed him, stroking several times. "I've thought about it so many times. About you."

"Yeah? And what did you think?" you whispered, seeing him close his eyes from the pleasure you were giving him.

"I've thought about what I would do with you if I had the chance and if you only wanted me. You were always so fucking hot with that expression on your face."

"What?" you chuckled. "What are you talking about?"

He smiled as if he remembered something pleasant. A colossal hand pulled up your denim skirt and grabbed the edge of your panties.

"I-don't-give-a-damn-about-you-all" face." he replied, sliding them down your thighs to your ankles "But when you looked at me, that's when I saw the real you. Just the way you are, baby girl."

You were speechless for a moment. 

"Does that surprise you?" he asked, his fingers sliding over your slippery folds "I wouldn't be in this shit hole if it wasn't for you. And that weird idiot who thought you were his." Two fingers slid inside you unexpectedly stretching you pleasantly. "You deserve a real man who will take care of you, the way it should be done."

The fingers started moving faster and you clenched your hands on Clint's broad shoulders trying to hold back a moan. His thumb found your clit and pressed it, then began to make small and fast circles. Your nerves were raging, and your walls were spasmodically clenching around his fingers. You didn't even feel when his lips pressed against your collarbone and left a mark there, a mark that you were his.

"Oh, I can feel you squeezing my fingers. I'm sure you'll do the same with my cock, right? Good girl." his lips brush your ear. "Come, come on my fingers, then I'll give you what you really want."

Your body was completely obedient to him, in an instant your walls tightened around his fingers, and a moan of ecstasy escaped your throat. It was as if someone had restarted your brain and you finally started seeing everything clearly.

It wasn't accidental, nothing with Clint was accidental. Of course, he didn't want to expose you, he knew that your guy could be impulsive and stupid, he counted on you to understand what you got yourself into. So he was next to you, watching over you even though you didn't know about it. 

All those tender and small touches, accidental glances - those were his stolen moments with you. That was all until you looked at him differently, until you saw that you could be treated better. Because Clint would definitely treat you like his lady.

"I want you inside." You panted, and he smiled "I want you inside me, Clint. Now."

"What my baby girl wants, she gets." he murmured.

His tip slid over your heated entrance and he slid inside you in one hard motion, all the way to the base. Damn, he was huge and for a moment you lost your breath.

"I've got you. I've got you. I know it's a lot, but you're doing great." he murmured, kissing your neck and chin. "Now I'm going to start moving. Slowly and..."

Neither of you were ready for this. Your bodies seemed to work together perfectly, as if they had always fit together. Eventually, the room filled with your quickened breaths, moans, and the sounds of skin slapping against skin. 

Even though he seemed dominant, you didn't feel threatened by him, quite the opposite. His eyes stared at you with delight. Clint wanted to see everything, every grimace, hear every sigh he had caused. To him, you were a dream come true, something he wanted to hold in his arms but didn't believe would ever happen.

But in that moment, you were real. His cock deep inside you, your thighs gripping him tightly, and your nails digging into his shoulders. He didn't want to be anywhere else but right there with you.

"I've wanted you for so long." he gasped, feeling like he couldn't hold it in any longer.

"And now you have me... You have me, Clint."

As he kissed your lips your body gave in, another wave of pleasure flooded your senses, your back arched and legs clenched tighter, pressing Clint harder against you. He only managed to slam into you a few more times as he flooded your walls with warm seed. A strangely but familiar taste appeared in his mouth and he opened his eyes, moving his face away from yours.

"Oh, poor thing." he sighed.

Your lower lip, from the force of his kiss, cracked again and began to bleed slightly. Clint rubbed it and kissed it lightly.

"What now?" you asked. "I can't stay here."

“Let’s stay here for a while. Michael won’t be mad.” Clint replied and slid off of you, laying on his side and watching you carefully. “You can stay with me if you want. Would you like that?”

For a moment you stared at the creamy ceiling, feeling his cum lazily drip down your thigh. In a few hours, everything changed. The pace was terrifying, but Clint… You felt like you really wanted to jump on that train. Take a chance.

"Yeah, I guess so." You replied.

You smiled, feeling his fingertips run over your chin, neck all the way to your sternum. His eyes were glued to you, he wanted to remember you from that first time with him. Your glowing skin, parted lips, tousled hair... Everything about you was perfect.

"Will you have breakfast with me? I know a good place."

You turned your head and smiled. "Breakfast? Don't you want to invite me to dinner?"

"Breakfast will be sooner, baby girl." Clint replied and leaned down, kissing your lips gently.

"I would love to."

You jumped on that train and let yourself be carried away.

With Clint.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[ddeokz]

STAY WITH ME ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ 신이 우릴 허락 안 해도 - J.SC

trope down bad!sungchan x clueless!reader ⊹₊⋆ fluff, (it’s tooth rotting fluff) fem!reader they are in collage- an ˎˊ˗ he's just a softie idk- reader is CLUELESS and I mean that🙂‍↕️ ⤷ …. riizebrary! + song to read 2!

✦downbad!sungchan who.. never let's you walk alone- not at night, not at the ass crack of dawn ur safety is the most important thing to him he's not afraid of defending you at anytime.

✦downbad!sungchan who.. notices the way your eyes pause on little trinkets at the mall, its always the stuff you say "I really like it but i'd never buy it myself :(" to.. weeks later he shows up with them and for some reason it makes your heart flutter that your best friend even remembered.

✦downbad!sungchan who.. lets you do his make up, nails and put stickers all over him without even having to ask twice because what other way would he want to spend his weekend?

✦downbad!sungchan who.. remembers your order at ALL places so when they get it wrong and your too scared to tell them he doesn't hesitate saying something along the lines of "she doesn't like foam on hers- oh and can you make it strawberry instead of vanilla? thanks."

✦downbad!sungchan who.. has multiple playlist based off you- one with your initials, one with an emoji that reminds him of you, and one with a picture of the two of you. The best part is when you ask him about it he just goes "huh really? i mean i guess i wasn't paying attention to what i was putting.." and then laughs it off (spoiler alert: of course he knew he just got shy.)

✦downbad!sungchan who.. lowkey crashes out when you respond extremely dry- (in your defense you've never been a good texter..) he shoves his face in his pillow and texts his friends "she doesn't want me i wanna die"

✦downbad!sungchan who.. writes your name in the corners of his notebook with little scribbles and hearts like he's in some 2000's disney channel romcom movie and when you steal his notebook to copy his notes your face get's surprisingly hot and you pout thinking he's playing some mean joke on you.

✦downbad!sungchan who.. buys you flowers cuz "pretty girls deserve pretty flowers" and you reply with "I'm so lucky to have a best friend like you" (wishing he meant it in a romantic way- well.. you'll catch on soon enough.. i hope)

✦downbad!sungchan who.. can't take it anymore.. he doesn't understand how you can't tell that he's like... crazily obsessed with you. so he makes a plan.. plan: confess to yn starts now! and as he's randomly sneaking off and canceling plans to make the perfect place to ask you out your thinking he's found someone and it'll never go anywhere..

✦downbad!sungchan who.. plans a beautiful picnic in the spot you met, (which caught you off guard because- what abt that new person he was seeing?! is this not too romantic??) than starts jumbling up his words because of how nervous he is. But he finally spits it out all the things he's been wanting to say and all the times he wished you weren't just friends.

✦downbad!sungchan who.. covers his face after word vomiting all over you- bracing himself for rejection but you... don't? you grab his hands and smile as wide as possible before softly saying "I never knew you liked me channie i don't wanna be friends either 'wanna be yours" and he swears he could die right then and there.

and finally ✦downbad!sungchan whos.. not just your friend anymore but your boyfriend . your boyfriend who treats you so good and you couldn't ask for anything more. (well maybe you could ask for a ring but that's a story for another time-)

ahhh!! I hope you guys had fun reading this as much as I had fun writing it 🥺 it’s my first written post and im a little nervy LMAOO anyways we love downbad!sungchan- but who next??