#i've tried to write a couple of times actually but none of it sounded like attie for some reason

[ow1et]

i know i said i'd be more active a couple of weekends ago, but we had several folks in my department quit with no notice (which i don't blame them for) so i've been working a lot of 12 hour shifts and am exhausted when i get home. i just haven't felt like writing or much of anything really. but i do love you all and i am endlessly appreciative of your patience with me !!! <3

[servndipityz]

namgyu with alternative reader? perchance.. smut🫶🫶😁

a/n ── i'm so nervous about this one! i hope i didn't do a terrible job on portraying alt culture (i know nothing about it). i kinda tried to make it not super specific so anyone can feel identified. again, sorry if it's lowkey bad. it's also my first time writing smut, believe it or not, but i've had years of experience reading it so i don't think it's that bad. enjoy :)

STRIPPED

warnings ── smut, +18 MDNI!!! porn w plot. drug usage, sex under the influence, sex in a club, fingering, orgasm denial, degradation, light choking, kinda brat taming? p in v, unprotected sex, creampie.

word count ── 4.6k

he'd ended up there. of course, he'd ended up there. only someone as unlucky as him could wind up at some fucking goth party. or punk. or… whatever. he didn't really care about the whole thing—the dramatic makeup, the dyed hair, the incredibly loud music blaring through the club. none of it.

nam-gyu had envisioned a chill night on his free day, but no. of course, his co-worker had to get sick. of course, nam-gyu owed him money for the pills he'd given him last week. of course, he had to cover for him that night.

and, of course, it was alternative night at club pentagon. usually, his co-worker handled these kinds of nights—special events, themed parties, all that.

what did nam-gyu know about alternative culture anyway? he wondered the same thing as he weaved through the crowd, making sure everyone was having a good time, keeping an eye on bar sales.

so far, he'd been stepped on twice—not too bad, except when it came from one of those platform boots everyone seemed to be wearing. those hurt like hell. but at least the night was going smoothly. for now.

so good, in fact, that nam-gyu figured it was time for a drink. he'd been working for hours, making sure this party ran smoothly. he owed that co-worker a lot of drug money, and this was the only way to settle it. it’s not like he’d ever do this out of the kindness of his heart.

he made his way to the nearest counter, resting his elbows on the cool marble as he waited for someone to take his order. he couldn't help but wonder how anyone could actually dance to this loud-ass english music that sounded more like screaming. he'd take the regular techno dj any day.

meanwhile, you finished pouring a vodka red bull and handed it off to yet another customer. that's when you noticed him.

he stood out—not in a good way.

hunched over the counter, inspecting it like he might find some cocaine stuck in it (which, honestly, he probably would if he looked hard enough), looking like a wet rat. his clothes gave him away. who even let him in like that? plain black shirt, black jeans, a couple of rings.

he looked up as you approached.

his first thought was that your leather top made your tits poke out. his second was that, without all that emo makeup, you'd actually be pretty cute.

his third was what the highest-alcohol-content drink he could order was.

he opened his mouth to ask, eyes flicking to the bottles behind you—

but you spoke first.

"you're ruining the vibe, man."

he frowned, caught off guard.

you just raised an eyebrow, speaking over the loud music. "i said, you're ruining the vibe."

"i'm not doing anything," he scoffed, annoyed. he just wanted to order his damn drink. last thing he needed was some lecture.

"exactly," you said. "you don't belong here. what are you even doing?"

not like you actually cared. you were here to do your job, bartend, make money, go home. but this guy—standing there, stiff shoulders, sharp jawline, judging everything and everyone, probably without even realizing it—looking at you like that, eyes dragging over you like you were some kind of curiosity—

yeah. he rubbed you the wrong way.

being alternative, you already got judged enough. the last thing you needed was someone doing it at an alternative party.

he frowned even further. "i'm here to work. not that it's any of your business."

that caught you off guard for a second. "you work here?" your head tilted, curiosity slipping into your tone. you leaned over the counter, the neckline of your top shifting just a little lower. who knew—if this guy was someone important, you had to use all your charms. especially after being so rude. "i've never seen you around, and i always bartender at these kinds of parties."

his gaze flickered down your cleavage before snapping back to your eyes. but you saw it. the way his jaw clenched, the way he suddenly looked more annoyed than before—like he was mad at himself for looking.

"i'm not thrilled either," he mumbled, clearly uninterested in conversation. "just covering for a friend. now, could you actually do your job and get me something to drink?"

you bristled at his tone, raising a brow as you turned to the shelves of bottles. "jeez, someone's grumpy. what can i get you?"

in reality, nam-gyu wasn't grumpy. well, he was, but that was just how he was. it was just... for some reason, you made him nervous. the girls he usually dealt with at clubs were boring bitches trying to get a VIP card or whatever drugs he had in his pocket.

you were the opposite. rude. annoying. and he didn’t like that. but for some reason, it made his blood rush somewhere else, clouding his brain.

"just give me a shot," he said after a pause. "something strong."

you turned your head slightly, a smile playing on your lips—the kind that sent a shiver down his spine. you walked back to the counter, reaching for a bottle hidden underneath.

"drinking on the job?" you asked while pouring the liquid into a shot glass, then casually grabbing a second one.

nam-gyu let out a short, amused huff. if drinking was the worst thing he’d done on the job, he’d be in a much better place. but he watched curiously as you poured the second shot, his eyes flicking up through his lashes, brow slightly raised.

"what?" you asked playfully. "if you’re doing it, so can i."

you finally set the bottle back and raised your glass. he mirrored you, his eyes never leaving yours. there was something in his expression—almost a smile. you entertained him.

"cheers," you said, clinking your glass against his before downing the shot in one go. he followed suit, setting the glass back on the counter, suppressing a grimace at the sharp burn of alcohol.

“so,” you said, clearing your throat slightly after the shot. “who’s the friend you’re covering for?”

nam-gyu said the name, and your eyes widened.

“that junkie, huh?” you smirked. he chuckled. “yeah, i know him. he’s a little more talkative than you, though.”

nam-gyu narrowed his eyes. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“nothing. it’s okay to be shy.” your voice was innocent, teasing, calculated. you'd decided that you'd had enough, that you might as well have some fun. “anyway, my shift’s almost over. wanna get out of here?”

“i’m not shy.” he sounded offended, then glanced away, considering your offer. “and i told you, i’m working.”

you huffed. “fine. just needed someone to smoke this with." you reached into your back pocket and pulled out a tiny zip-lock bag filled with greens. "guess i'll have to find somebody else."

now that caught his attention. maybe almost as much as your exposed skin did. suddenly, he was interested. but also suspicious.

“what do you have?” he asked, leaning slightly over the counter, his voice lower, more serious.

“your junkie friend gave it to me for a gig i did. said it’s good shit.” you shrugged, playing it cool, acting uninterested—like you didn’t know exactly what you were doing. and he took the bait.

“why would you wanna share it with me?” he still sounded wary, but there was something else in his tone now. curiosity. maybe even something close to interest.

you groaned dramatically. “look, i’m heading to the staff room. you coming or not?” you said, already turning away, signaling to your co-worker that your shift was over.

now, nam-gyu didn’t need weed. not exactly. he could probably find ten of those zip-lock bags hidden in his place, forgotten in favor of other, harder drugs. but he also wasn’t the kind of guy to say no to free drugs.

especially not from such a petty girl.

you grinned to yourself as you felt him rush to walk behind you, trailing after you through the club like he didn’t know the way like the back of his hand.

as you reached the hallway leading to the staff room, nam-gyu couldn’t help but let his gaze linger on your half-ripped fishnets, the way they framed your legs under that short black skirt. was he here for the weed or for you? he wasn’t really sure, and he didn’t care much.

you finally reached the door, slipping past a few couples too caught up in each other to notice, and he shut it behind him. the staff room was small, dingy, and reeked of bleach and cigarette smoke, but you still sank onto the worn-out sofa next to the table like it was the most comfortable place in the world.

you leaned back, stretching your legs out just enough for your skirt to ride up slightly. not too much—just enough to make him notice. and he did.

nam-gyu stood near the door for a second, like he was reconsidering this, before scoffing to himself and dropping onto the couch beside you. he was close, not touching, but enough that the warmth of him was noticeable. enough that when he exhaled, you could feel the faintest brush of his breath against your shoulder.

"roll it," he said, nodding at the bag in your hand.

you raised an eyebrow. "you're really bad at asking nicely, huh?"

he just looked at you, serious. "you’re really bad at shutting up."

that made you laugh. he was watching you now—really watching you—as you pulled out the papers, fingers working effortlessly, licking the edge just to see his reaction. you weren’t disappointed. his jaw flexed again, his eyes dark, tracking your every move like he was trying to pretend he didn’t care. like he wasn’t already leaning back, manspreading, trying to act like he had the upper hand here.

cute.

you tucked the blunt between your lips, lighting it, taking a slow drag before passing it to him.

nam-gyu hesitated, just for a split second, then took it, bringing it to his mouth. his fingers brushed yours in the handoff, and it was stupid how that tiny touch sent something sharp down your spine. or maybe it was just the way he inhaled, head tilting back, exposing the sharp line of his throat as he exhaled, smoke curling lazily from his lips.

you licked yours.

the weed hit, slow and warm. the music outside was muffled, the sounds of the party fading into the background, leaving only this—dim lighting, the scent of smoke and alcohol and something else, something charged.

"you always do this?" nam-gyu asked after a beat, voice lower, lazier. "lure random guys into the staff room for a smoke?"

you smirked, tilting your head. "only the rude ones."

he huffed, shaking his head, but you saw the corner of his mouth twitch like he was trying not to smile. he passed the blunt back, his fingers lingering just a second longer this time. you let them.

the room felt smaller. warmer.

"you always this uptight?" you asked, taking another slow hit. "or just with me?"

nam-gyu let his head roll against the back of the couch, watching you through heavy-lidded eyes. "you always this annoying? or just with me?"

you exhaled smoke, letting it curl between you. "you like it."

he didn’t answer. but he also didn’t look away.

you were both leaning back now, legs almost brushing, breaths slow and measured like you were both pretending not to notice the heat building between you.

nam-gyu wet his lips, head still resting against the couch, eyes flicking to your mouth before he caught himself and looked away. like it was a habit. like he was trying so fucking hard not to slip.

you took one last hit before stubbing out the blunt in the ashtray beside you. then, shifting slightly, you turned toward him, letting your knee press against his thigh. deliberate. slow. testing.

"you're staring," you murmured.

he scoffed, but it came out weaker than he probably meant. his hands clenched into fists on his thighs like he was keeping himself still on purpose.

"you’re high," he muttered, looking away.

"so are you." you tilted your head, voice dropping, playing with the edge of your ripped fishnets like you weren’t watching the way his gaze followed the movement of your fingers. "and what, does that mean i can’t see the way you’ve been looking at me all night?"

nam-gyu exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. "i haven’t been—"

"you have," you cut in smoothly, shifting closer, feeling the warmth of his body now, solid and tense. "you’re mad about it. i can tell."

his jaw clenched.

"tell me," you purred. "are you mad because you don’t like it? or mad because you do?"

his fingers twitched on his thigh. his breathing was heavier, controlled, like he was still fighting it. fighting you.

so you leaned in, lips just close enough to ghost over his ear. "it’s okay," you whispered. "you can touch me."

and that was it.

nam-gyu moved so fast you barely had time to smirk before he grabbed you by the back of the neck, his lips crashing into yours, hot and desperate, all teeth and pent-up frustration. his other hand found your waist, yanking you onto his lap, and fuck—he wasn’t holding back anymore.

he was done fighting it.

and so were you.

his lips were all heat, all pressure—nothing hesitant, nothing soft. you barely had a second to adjust before his teeth caught your bottom lip, his fingers gripping the nape of your neck like he wanted to own you. his other hand, firm on your waist, yanked you flush against him, and fuck—he was hard.

not that he acknowledged it. not that he’d ever admit that you’d done this to him.

your knees bracketed his hips as you settled onto his lap, rolling your hips down just enough to feel him. his grip tightened, nails digging into the meat of your waist. he hissed against your mouth—half warning, half surrender.

“you don’t play fair,” he muttered, lips grazing your jaw now, teeth scraping skin, testing.

your fingers tangled into his hair, tugging hard enough to make him grunt. “neither do you.”

his hands dropped—one to your thigh, sliding under your skirt, fisting in the torn mesh of your fishnets. the other traced the curve of your ass before shoving you down against him again, this time deliberate, a slow grind that made both of you exhale sharp.

his breath was uneven, warm against your throat. “you think i haven’t noticed?” his fingers curled, gripping tight enough to bruise. “the way you’ve been—” a sharp pull at the fishnets, a rip, cool air hitting skin—“fucking teasing me?”

you laughed, half-gasping when his tongue flicked against the pulse at your neck.

his fingers dipped, pressing against the damp heat of your panties, no patience, no hesitation. his other hand was now tangled in your hair, keeping you locked right where he wanted—breath hitching as he rubbed slow, teasing.

then his hand moved, fingers slipping beneath the fabric, warm against your skin, sliding between your thighs. the first touch was barely there, just a single fingertip running along your slit, slow, teasing.

you squirmed, but he didn’t let you go. “look at you,” he murmured, mocking, the pad of his finger dragging over your cunt, pressing just enough to make you shudder. “all that attitude, but you’re already—” he exhaled sharply, felt it before he even had to say it—so fucking wet.

"fuck," he muttered, more to himself than to you, his forehead resting against yours for a second like he was trying to collect himself. but his fingers were still moving, sliding along the slickness of you, testing, exploring, spreading it just enough to make you squirm.

"yeah?" you murmured, voice breathy, teasing. "you like that?"

his only response was a low, quiet curse under his breath before he pressed his fingers in deeper, the tips just barely pushing inside before pulling back, slow and torturous. he was watching you now, eyes dark and half-lidded.

and then, without warning, he slid one finger in, slow but firm, curling just enough to make your breath catch. your nails dug into his shoulders, and his other hand tightened on your hip, holding you steady.

"fuck," you whispered, rolling your hips into his touch, chasing it, needing more.

nam-gyu chuckled, low and smug, and then he added a second finger, stretching you just a little more, fucking you slow and deep with just his hand. the angle was perfect, his fingers pressing against that spot inside you that made your toes curl, made your breath come faster, needier.

"you’re so fucking tight," he murmured, more fascinated than anything, watching the way his fingers disappeared inside you, the way you clenched around them. he twisted his wrist slightly, his palm pressing against your clit as he fucked you with his fingers, setting a rhythm that had you grinding against him, chasing that pressure.

your moan was quiet but desperate, and he smirked, eyes flicking up to yours.

"you always this easy?" he murmured, his voice taunting, dark.

you opened your mouth to snap something back, but then he crooked his fingers just right, pressing deeper, and your words dissolved into a gasp, your head tipping back. his lips were on your throat a second later, sucking, biting, leaving marks you’d have to cover up later.

his pace picked up, fucking you harder with just his fingers, each drag of his palm against your clit sending another sharp wave of heat curling low in your stomach. the room was quiet except for the sound of your breathy moans, his heavier breathing, the slick sounds of his fingers working you open.

"you gonna come?" he murmured against your skin, his voice rough now, strained.

you swallowed hard, your fingers tightening in his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. "fuck—don’t stop," you breathed.

nam-gyu felt it—felt the way your body tensed, the way your thighs shook against his hips, the way you were right there, so fucking close. he could see it too, in the way your mouth parted, in the soft, breathy little gasps escaping your lips, the ones you were trying to swallow back like you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

but he wasn’t that generous.

just when you thought he’d let you tip over, when your body clenched down around his fingers so tight he could barely move them, he pulled away.

just—gone.

the sudden loss was so sharp, so fucking unfair, that you let out a frustrated, needy little whine before you could stop yourself, your hips rolling forward, chasing after the feeling, after his hand, anything. but nam-gyu just sat back, bringing his wet fingers up to his lips, slipping them into his mouth with a slow, deliberate hum.

"mm," he mused, tongue flicking over them, eyes locked on yours. "not bad."

"are you fucking kidding me?" you were panting, legs still shaking where you straddled him, your body on fire, needing more, needing anything. your eyes flashed, your hands curling into fists against his chest like you were two seconds away from either punching him or ripping his shirt off.

he just smirked. "what?"

"you—" you gritted your teeth, your nails digging into the fabric of his shirt. "you’re such a fucking asshole."

nam-gyu chuckled, low and lazy, his hands dragging up your thighs again, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh just to remind you he still had you exactly where he wanted you. "maybe, but you're still here," he murmured. "still dripping for me."

"yeah, because you didn’t let me cum, you dick," you snapped, rocking forward again, grinding against him, feeling the hard, thick press of him through his pants. he was just as worked up as you were, and you could tell—he was trying to play it cool, but his breathing was heavier, his fingers twitching against your skin like he was barely holding himself back.

that made you smirk. "ohhh," you taunted, rolling your hips again, slower this time, watching his jaw clench. "that’s why, huh? you’re hard as fuck and don’t wanna finish before i do."

his eyes darkened, his grip tightening on your hips. "watch your fucking mouth."

"or what?" you leaned in, brushing your lips against his ear, letting your breath tickle his skin. "you gonna do something about it?"

that was it.

one second you were teasing him, playing your little game, and the next you were flat on your back, your spine pressing into the shitty, worn-out couch, his body caging you in. his hand was already shoving your skirt up, fingers hooking into your panties and dragging them down your thighs, not even bothering to be careful.

"you talk too much," he muttered, voice rough, breath hot against your jaw.

"and you do too little," you shot back, just to push him, just to make him snap again.

it worked.

his hand was on your throat, not squeezing, just there, just pressing, just reminding you that he could if he wanted to. his other hand yanked at his belt, the metal buckle clinking as he undid his pants, as he shoved them down just enough to free himself.

fuck.

you’d felt it before, pressing against you, teasing, but now you saw it. thick, flushed, leaking at the tip, the kind of length that made your thighs press together instinctively, made you bite your lip even as you refused to let him see you flustered.

nam-gyu saw it anyway.

"knew you wanted it," he muttered, running the head of his cock along your slit, dragging it slow through your wetness. "acting like a brat, but your pussy’s already begging."

"shut the fuck up and—"

he pushed in, just an inch, just enough to make you gasp, make your nails dig into his arms.

"yeah?" he exhaled sharply, his jaw tight, like he was already holding himself back. "that what you wanted?"

you barely had time to adjust before he thrust forward again, burying himself deep, stretching you in one slow stroke that left your back arching, your head tipping back against the couch.

"fuck—"

nam-gyu groaned, low and almost desperate, his forehead pressing against yours as he bottomed out, as he let you feel every fucking inch of him.

"you feel that?" he murmured, breath ragged, his hips rolling just a little, just enough to make you whimper. "how tight you are? how you’re fucking squeezing me?"

you couldn’t answer. you couldn’t think. all you could do was feel—the way he filled you, the way he stretched you, the way he stayed there for a second, teasing, waiting, making you want it more.

you swallowed, trying to catch your breath. "you gonna move, or you just like teasing your own dick?"

his laugh was low. then he pulled back and slammed into you, knocking the breath from your lungs.

"fuck—"

your back was pressed against the couch, legs spread wide, thighs trembling as he held you open. his body caged yours beneath him, one hand pinning your wrists above your head, the other gripping your hip, keeping you still as he drove into you with rough, unforgiving thrusts. his cock filled you completely—thick, hot, deep—dragging against every sensitive spot inside you, making you gasp with each desperate slap of his hips against yours.

"you gonna be good now?" his voice was low, ragged, dark with amusement. his grip tightened, fingers digging bruises into your skin. "or you still wanna run your mouth?"

you tried. you really did. you opened your lips to snap something back—something mean, something cutting, something to remind him you weren’t easy to break.

but all that came out was a choked moan as he grabbed your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his.

"that’s what i thought," he murmured against your lips, his breath hot, his mouth just barely brushing yours, teasing. "bratty little thing—talking shit. but look at you now."

his hand wrapped around your throat, fingers pressing just enough to keep you in place. not squeezing. just controlling. just owning. his other hand slipped between your bodies, two fingers finding your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles over the swollen bud.

"fuck," you gasped, your hips rolling up instinctively, chasing that pressure, that friction.

nam-gyu chuckled, low and smug. "yeah? you like that?"

you wanted to tell him to fuck off. you really did.

but then he twisted his fingers just right, his cock hitting that spot inside you at the same time, and your body jerked, your moan breaking into something desperate.

"that’s it," he murmured, his lips brushing against your jaw, his pace still brutal, relentless. "don’t fight it. you wanna cum, don’t you?"

"yes—yeah," you panted, nails scraping against his wrist where he held your throat.

he pulled back suddenly, dragging his cock out until only the tip remained, making you whimper at the loss. his fingers abandoned your clit, and before you could protest, he did something worse—something filthier.

he spat.

the wet warmth of it landed directly on your pussy, slick and obscene. your whole body jolted.

"fuck—" your breath stuttered, your back arching as heat shot through you.

nam-gyu groaned at the sight, at the way you clenched, the way your body reacted so instantly, so helplessly.

"you like that, huh?" his voice was thick with satisfaction, his fingers dragging through the mess, smearing it over you, rubbing it in slow, teasing circles.

you shouldn’t. you really shouldn’t.

but the heat in your stomach coiled even tighter.

"say it," he ordered, his voice rough, his cock pushing back inside you, stretching you open again, slow and deep, making you feel every inch. "tell me you fucking love it."

your pride cracked. your body betrayed you.

"fuck—i love it," you gasped.

nam-gyu groaned, his breath hitching, his pace quickening. "good girl."

and then his fingers returned, rubbing messy circles over your spit-slicked clit, matching the rhythm of his thrusts, pushing you higher, harder—

you were already close. too close.

"fuck—fuck, i’m gonna cum," you choked out, hips jerking against his hand, against his cock, chasing it. "please—please don’t stop—"

and this time he didn’t.

he fucked you through it, his fingers never letting up, his pace relentless, driving you higher, harder, until it finally snapped—

your orgasm hit like a fucking wrecking ball.

your body clenched down on him so tight he cursed under his breath, his rhythm faltering for the first time. the pleasure crashed over you, your whole body shaking as you moaned through it, loud and wrecked, the sound swallowed by the shitty little staff room.

"fuck—fuck, yeah, that’s it," nam-gyu groaned, his grip on your hips bruising now, his thrusts rough and desperate as he chased his own release. "god, you feel so fucking good—"

he buried himself deep, his breath stuttering, his cock twitching inside you, and then he was coming, his grip tightening, his forehead pressing against your shoulder as he groaned low into your skin.

for a second, all you could hear was the ragged sound of your breathing, the quiet hum of the party outside, the distant bass thudding through the walls.

nam-gyu exhaled, slow and shaky, his fingers tracing lazy circles against your waist, still holding you, still pressed against you.

then he pulled out, groaning at the sight of his cum spilling out of you, dripping between your thighs.

he smirked, dragging a lazy finger through it before pressing it against your lips.

"open," he murmured.

you did.

and fuck, the look in his eyes when you sucked it clean—

you were so fucked.

© servndipityz 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content without my permission.

[callsign-joyride]

Fortnight | J.H.S

Summary: You realize that things with Jake aren't going to work out. Content Warnings: Angst (LOTS of it) Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x reader Lyric: "Thought of calling you, but you won't pick up. 'Nother fortnight lost in America." A note: I've been loving TTPD so I've decided to write fanfics inspired by the album! Each fic will be based on a different track/lyric, and they will all be about different characters! Some will be smutty, others not so much.

You thought that you were happy with Jake. Really, you did. Despite the fact that both of you were out of town, you had managed to stay together for almost a year and you were already moved in. You had met each other’s families a few times, and everything seemed to be going good. That was until you started to have work trip after work trip with your promotion, and he had what felt like back-to-back deployments.You only had two months and some weekends together out of the upcoming year, as far as both of you knew. 

It was starting to get to a point where you were considering leaving and moving back home. Maybe this wasn’t a lifestyle that you were cut out for. Penny would come by the apartment a few times a week when you were both gone to dust and make sure that nothing was stolen, but it wasn’t an ideal situation at all. You finally broke down and cried three months into Jake’s deployment.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore… I did the math and we’ll barely see each other over the next year. We both travel a lot for our jobs now, but I didn’t think it would be like this,” you said, over wine with your girl friends from work.

“Aw, hun, I know exactly how you feel. Things on your end should be calming down in the next few months. I wasn’t home much in my first year, either,” Estelle said.

“But that’s the thing, I don’t know if I can make it a few more months. I feel like I’m missing out on what the other couples are doing because my boyfriend is overseas doing God knows what and I’m always on another plane.”

“You should try to give him a call when you sober up. Tell him what you want.”

You finished your glass of wine and went back up to your hotel room. Calling him late at night would be too much work, and you were too tired to even try it. So, you tried to call him in the morning when you were feeling better, like Estelle said.

“Hey, this is Hangman. Leave a message.”

You sighed and heard the tone beep before taking a deep breath and taking a moment to think of what you were going to say.

“Hey, I really need to talk to you about something. It’s important. Call me back when you get the chance.”

He have good enough service to check his voicemails and text messages until it was around dinner time for you. And of course, his phone was barely working, so all he could get from the message was that it was from you and you were upst about something. 

“Rooster, man, I need to borrow your phone! My girl called, she was upset about something.”

“Alright, but make it quick. I told my wife I’d call her as soon as I got the chance.”

“Thanks, I owe you.”

Jake sat on his bed before he dialed your number. It was so relieving to hear your voice, and you didn’t sound so upset this time.

“Hello?” You asked.

“Hey, it’s me. My phone’s being a piece of shit right now so I only heard part of your message. Is everything okay?”

You sighed and sat on the hotel bed.

“No, actually. Jake, I’m sorry. I don’t know if I can make this work anymore.”

“What… What do you mean by that?”

“I love you, but I don’t know if all of the distance and us traveling all the time will work out. We’ll hardly be seeing each other at all this year, I did the math. And, you know, I thought being a Navy girlfriend would be easy, but that was before I got promoted. I know that none of this has been planned, but I’m traveling so much that I don’t know if this relationsip will work anymore.”

“Fuck, okay, well, maybe there’s something I can do, right?”

“I don’t want you to lose your job because of me, and I don’t wanna jinx it but, it seems like I’m the only reason you’d come home early, and there isn’t an emergency.”

“So, what’s next?”

“Well, I’m gonna start looking for places soon. There’s a chance I’ll be moved out by the time you get back. I’m really sorry, Jake. Truly.”

“I am, too.”

You weren’t in a rush to move out, but you did start to put non-essential things in boxes while you looked for apartments. There was a brief moment where you thought of moving back home to New Hampshire, but it wouldn’t really work out because of your job. Between traveling for work and awkwardly exchanging texts with Jake and the Dagger Squad, you were finally moved out after a month and a half. 

The last time that you saw Jake, it was when you met up to fill out paperwork to be removed from the lease. You still felt awful about everything. He’d try to call you over the next few months, but you never answered. You never read any of his texts, either.

“Hey! If you’re hearing this, I’m busy. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you!” 

He quickly got used to hearing your voicemail, and eventually stopped calling.

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[welp-here-goes-nothing]

Oh hey look. ANOTHER one

I would like to preface this by saying that I know literally nothing about Tim Drake. The extent of my knowledge of him is from the occasional batfam skit I would get on tiktok and the like seven pages of the Wayne family adventures webtoon I've read. Not kidding when I say I have his wiki fandom page open in another tab so then I know what the fuck happens and how the fuck he became robin in the first place as I write this. So this will probably be OOC for him.

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

"Bruce you need to stop, you put one of Riddler's men in the ICU." Carson scolded his husband.

"They deserved it." Bruce grunted.

"Did they? Bruce they were twenty, it may not have been the best but they had a life. Now they have six broken ribs, a shattered femur, blunt force trauma to the head, and a punctured lung. What happened to your no excessive brute force rule?" Carson replied.

"Oh you're one to talk. You did the exact same thing to the Joker when you found out he killed Jason." Bruce spat back.

"You're right I did, and maybe me telling you all of this is a little hypocritical. But at least I directed my anger towards the man who actually killed Jason and not any living creature that may remotely look a little villainous, or like they might be having a criminal thought." Carson rebutted.

"Oh well I'm sorry that I'm delivering justice and trying to avenge Jason. You aren't even acting like you care that he's dead!" Bruce snapped.

"Because Jason isn't the first person I've lost Bruce! I am over two hundred thousand years old, I have seen entire civilizations die, bustling planets that took to the stars become barren wastelands. I'm sorry that I'm not handling Jason's death the same way you are by going on a rampage and deciding to be judge, jury, and executioner for anybody who looks at me funny! But if you think for one minute that I don't miss Jason, that I don't wish I could bring him back, or go back to that night and save him. I can bring an entire universe to its knees with a snap of my fingers. Stars and suns can go out if I cough at them, solar systems will crumble if I look at them the wrong way. I have all of this power but I can't bring my own son back. Do you really think that doesn't eat away at me every day? Knowing I can do all these incredible things that people can only dream of and yet I couldn't be there to save him. Do you really think I don't miss Jason? Or that I don't blame myself for his death every single day? If you really believe that I don't care that Jason is dead then I don't want to talk to you. I don't even want to be here right now." Carson snapped.

The manor was silent as Carson made his way towards the front door, his hand was on the doorknob when he looked back at Bruce.

"I'll come back when my husband is back. Not some bloodthirsty vigilante who thinks I'm some heartless bitch and that I don't care about my son." Carson said before leaving.

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

It had been a few weeks since the fight between Carson and Bruce and true to his word Carson had yet to come back to the manor. Clark had visited Carson multiple times and tried to get him to come back but Carson was adamant on not returning until Bruce had apologized for what he said. Truth be told Bruce more than wanted to apologize for what he had said that day but he just didn't know how to. He had tried to send multiple texts conveying how he realized saying that Carson didn't care about Jason's death was wrong and he never should have said something like that but none of them sounded right. Hell he had even driven to Carson's house a couple of times but he was at a loss for words on what to say before he could knock on the door so he ended up leaving.

Carson was in his kitchen baking some cookies when there was a knock at his door. Stopping his mixer and pausing the music he was listening to he walked to his front door and opened it, surprised to see Alfred standing on his porch with a young boy behind him.

"Alfred, what a surprise! And who might this be?" Carson elated as he looked at the boy standing behind him.

"Tim Drake, I'm here to save Batman." The boy answered.

"Oh?" Carson said raising an eyebrow as he looked at Alfred.

"May we come in? I am afraid this is a matter that should be discussed discreetly." Alfred replied.

Carson nodded his head stepping aside to let the two in. Once inside he closed the door behind them and led them to the kitchen as the timer went off for the batch of cookies currently in his oven.

"Alright so what's going on." Carson inquired as he pulled the tray of cookies out.

"It appears Master Bruce, and Master Dick have been apprehended by two face." Alfred explained.

"Is Dick okay? Do you know?" Carson asked almost immediately.

"They are fine, for now. Though you know how Mr. Harvey can be." Alfred warned.

"So that's why we're gonna go rescue them! And we need your help." Tim chimed in.

"Why not call Clark? I'm sure it'd be a lot easier to get them back if you took Clark with you." Carson replied.

"It would raise many questions if superman was seen rescuing Batman and Nightwing. We need someone of your caliber." Alfred answered.

"I'm sorry but I can't." Carson said turning away from the two.

"Why not?! Isn't Batman your husband? And Nightwing he's your son right? That means you should definitely come with us to save them." Tim interjected, confused as to why Carson refused.

"Ha, you're a smart kid. Batman is my husband but we've hit a rough patch. I doubt he'll be happy to see me. And I know Nightwing, he can handle himself." Carson said.

"I am sure Master Bruce would be more than happy to see you Master Carson." Alfred replied in a hopeful tone.

"I doubt it. You know how we left things, but..... If things go south, more than they already have. Call me and I'll be backup." Carson said.

Alfred nodded knowing this was the best they were going to get from Carson as things were still rocky between him and Bruce. With a parting gift to Tim from Carson of one of Dick's old robin suits the two left, leaving Carson to his baking and his thoughts. He looked down at the golden band on his arm that pulsed with light momentarily and Carson thought about going with Alfred and Tim but decided against it.

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

Laughter filled the manor as everyone sat down at the dinner table to eat, a delicious looking feast prepared by Alfred filled the air with a mouth watering aroma. Smiles plastered everyone's faces as they idly chatted about their days.

"And the Riddler was all 'ahhh don't hurt me!' and I was all 'I'm not gonna hurt you, I'm putting you behind bars where you belong!' It was so funny seeing his face as he realized he got beat by a thirteen year old!" Tim exclaimed as he explained his patrol with Bruce in great detail.

"Well glad you had fun bud." Clark smiled as he dished himself some potatoes.

"You two seem to be quite the duo. Reminds me of somebody else I know when they first started out as Robin." Carson said in a teasing tone as he looked at Dick.

"Hey! I was not that excited about taking down criminals." Dick replied trying to defend himself.

"You were worse." Bruce chuckled causing the table to erupt in a small fit of laughter.

The rest of dinner continued like this filled with happy chatter and laughter bringing a bright air to the previously dark and solemn manor. After dinner Tim all but begged Dick to show him some acrobatic moves down in the cave, which the latter happily obliged to leaving Bruce, Clark, and Carson to their own devices upstairs.

"He seems to be adjusting really well. I'm glad he's doing so good here." Clark smiled.

"Me too. I was worried for a bit that his motivation would be fueled by revenge after what happened to his parents but he really seems like he just wants to make the world a better place." Bruce said.

"Speaking of. What is with us adopting kids who have dead parents. First Dick, and then Jason, and now Tim. Starting to think we have a penchant for adopting traumatized orphans." Carson said causing the other two men to laugh.

"Well someone has to. And who better than a traumatized orphan and two aliens." Bruce chuckled.

"He's got a point." Clark said.

"True. Well we should probably head down to the cave to make sure Dick isn't trying to twist Tim into a human pretzel." Carson said making his way to the hidden elevator.

[rhiaarrow]

I've seen ppl talking abt it on twitter and here and I wanted to sort of contribute my thoughts towards it,

Ppl aren't 'forgetting' about qTubbo's death. It's just that the situations of qBad and qTubbo's deaths, while they had the same outcome, were completely different for multiple factors.

(This isn't targeted at the ppl who think the death is being overlooked because that's their analysis and it's totally fair. It's just that people saying that got my analyst brain drawing comparisons between the deaths and I ended up with this big wall of text so...yeah :') )

1 - The build up (from outside POVs)

With qTubbo from most Povs he just sort of... died with no clear build up. Most ppl didn't see the true extent of his self spiralling because he hid it or they just simply didn't spend a lot of time with him in order to pick up on the stuff that we the viewers picked up on. And then all of a sudden he just died with no obvious lead up (unless you watch his pov in which case there was an obvious lead up) but from outsiders who barely saw him, it just happened.

Whereas

With qBad there was a more obvious build up on other Povs, he told the ppl he loved he was dying or at least they knew that something was wrong. They knew that his death was inevitable and as much as they hate to admit it a lot of them had already come to terms with the fact that he would be gone soon. (Again unless you watch his pov the whole build up from the past few months is less obvious but it was more developed with other players before his actual death) Most Povs at least recognised that there was something wrong with the blue spreading across his face because well...it was pretty fucking obvious

2 - The way they told people

qTubbos "I'm an egg, I only have one life left." while true sounds like a joke because well... he's obviously not actually an egg. Ppl joke abt stuff like that the whole time, the Eggboyhalo joke for example or calling Foolish 'egg coded' early in the server. How were all players meant to immediately go 'ah yes, this player is definitely an egg. Yesyes, this makes perfect sense'. It's easy to see how it wasn't taken seriously by a lot of characters when only a few of them were ever given an actual explanation besides "yeah I've only got one life"

Whereas

qBads "I'm fine, don't worry about me." while actively coughing up a lung, covered in blue infection and regularly having memory issues is an obvious lie. Even if people only saw him for a couple of minutes or even seconds it was pretty damn hard to ignore the blue spreading on his body. They'd ask what it was, he'd try to avoid it or redirect them and that person was hit with an immediate red flag of 'oh, so something is wrong with Bad.' which most shelved away and didn't actively investigate but it caused many characters to express being worried about him

3 - Outward visibility

qTubbo died due to his internal issues; self doubt, lack of self worth, suicidal tendencies, etc (I feel bad writing etc but I know there were other factors I just can't remember them) which resulted in him chosing to live using the life system and later chosing to gamble his last life in a game of Russian roulette with Richas.

(None of this being clearly outwardly visible to bystanders even if he wanted them to notice)

Whereas

qBad died due to external issues; parts of his soul physically leaking out of wounds on his body which caused his body to degenerate so far that even as an immortal he couldn't hold on and stop his corporeal body from just giving out on him and forcing him to reset.

(Which was very clearly outwardly visible despite how much he tried to hide it)

4 - The methods of their return

(Honestly I think this part is what's making ppl think that qTubbo's death is being 'ignored' compared to qBads)

With qTubbo, Creation told them that in order to 'restore' him they need smth that they CANNOT craft. Creation did not elaborate further, so they have very little to work with/very little they can actually do in order to try and help him. So most players while they have expressed they want to help, they know that if they do try to help they'll be running at brick walls because they just cannot obtain what is needed and they need to just wait for Creation to show up again.

Whereas

With qBad they know he'll be back (because he's a demon and that's just how they work) and they know what they have to do. They have to wait and be patient when he does return because he might not remember them and he'll probably need pictures to remember. He told them all of this before he died.

On one hand you have qTubbo: Wait for a prompt from Creation or an NPC to help them craft the item to get him back

On the other you have qBad: Wait for him to come back on his own terms

And for the people used to Bad providing a metaphorical example to prove his point in a clearer manner;

When playing a video game you have more hope when waiting for a loading wheel to stop spinning so you can play the level, than you do looking at a level blocked behind a currently unobtainable paywall :/

In other words, dwelling on things you don't know how to fix sucks ass and no one likes thinking about it until they have a tangible idea for a solution and right now only one of the two deaths has an even remotely tangible solution even if it is just to wait and do nothing.

(I understand that ppls reactions to qBads death have seemed more proactive than qTubbos right now but today was the first qBagi and Em learned of him actually dying so it makes sense that today was sort of centered around that. Tbh it just sucks that qTubbo died on an event day bc I feel like if he didn't we would've got a lot more focus and angst out of it but what can you do. But also it's seemed a lot more proactive because qBads kids are actively searching the server for him for 3-4 hours a day which is just depressing as hell, kudos to Pommin and Dapmin for pulling that off :') )

Wall of text over!

Have a flower for your troubles, after all our cubitos have done to us, I think we've earned some flowers without angsty connotations ;-;

❀❀❀❀❀

[romancingromanoff]

Second Death

Andromache the Scythian x f!reader

I decided to create a series for Andromache (my beloved). Here’s part 1, part 2, and part 3

Summary: Your first mission does not go according to plan

TW: Violence, major character death, somewhat descriptive gore, getting shot in the face, head explosions (kinda), ANGST

Words: around 3,000

A/N: Aside from being very difficult for me to write, this is probably the darkest I've ever gotten in terms of physical violence. So, uh, Happy Halloween I guess?

The plan was based off Buenos Aires 1822 (not 1922 as you had incorrectly assumed at first) which was a reference you obviously didn’t understand but was being explained to you in the most hectic way possible.

“Wait, so Nicky was decapitated-”

“Half decapitated. I didn’t actually die!”

“But you were quite light-headed for the rest of the day, my dear.” Joe feigned concern, brushing the back of his hand across his partner’s forehead and smiling like a fool.

Your leader was having none of it.

“Can we be serious please?” Immediately, the entire group’s focus shifted back to the Scythian. She certainly wasn’t going to admit it but she was apprehensive with this being your first mission. For months, you’d been doing nothing but training and begging her to let you in on the action until she was finally forced to give in. The instinct to keep you safe gnawed at Andy while it became increasingly difficult to ignore how your desire to prove your worth would only continue to grow. She recognized the same frustrations in a much younger version of herself and remembered how reckless it drove her to be.

“I’d rather we didn’t repeat that portion this time, agreed?”

You all nodded.

They laid out all the details about the traffickers and the group of people you were meant to rescue. It was an estimated 25-40 women and older girls being smuggled through for undoubtedly unpleasant purposes Andy didn’t get too detailed with. She, Joe, and Nico planned to storm the ship when it completely docked and most of the crew was on land retrieving supplies and weapons. That would leave only a few guards standing between them and the captives, who were most likely being held somewhere below deck. Once they find them, you and Booker would bring in the truck to help get everyone out. It sounded simple enough, but the fact that it was meant to go off without a hitch somehow doubled the amount of pressure you were applying to yourself. They had all done this at least once before, so if things went south then it was all because of you.

A few hours passed and you sat next to Booker in the passenger seat of the truck parked a couple of meters away from the ship and near a loading dock. With the engine off it was starting to get increasingly cold, but you didn’t even mind the chill at that point. You needed to be as alert as possible for what was to come.

Booker clearly sensed your apprehension. “It’s okay to be nervous, we’re not going to let anything bad happen to you.” He kept his voice low and his eyes glued on the dock entrance while you tried to do the same. 

Your mind was wrapped up in much bigger concerns. “I’m not worried about that. What if something goes wrong because of me? If I get hurt then so be it, I just don’t want to endanger anyone else when their lives and freedom are at stake.”

“You’ll be fine. Trust your training and lean on your team if you need help. That’s what we’re here for.” He offered you an encouraging smile that you attempted to return the best you could, yet you also wished he wouldn’t look at you with so much sympathy all of the time. As much as you appreciated everything they had done for you, you longed to show the others that you were capable of carrying your own weight and didn’t need someone to hold your hand constantly.

The two of you settled into a silence that was occasionally filled with a comment or two about nothing in particular. It didn’t do much to settle your nerves. You watched as dozens of muscular men left in packs, each one armed with at least a pistol that Booker taught you how to spot. He translated some of the French he could hear them speaking, which was mostly crude, misogynistic banter that made your jaw clench up.

“Good to know that men are pigs in basically all cultures,” you murmured mostly to yourself and tried to get your jaw to relax. Surprisingly, it earned you a gratifying laugh from the Frenchman and you were relieved when he didn’t take your comment too personally. 

“For the most part, I don’t disagree.”

“How will Andy and the others know when all of them have left?” You changed the subject upon the realization that the rest of the guard was hidden somewhere no one would see them, not even you. It was still difficult to imagine they had a better scouting position than the near-direct view you did.

“Don’t worry, they’ll know,” Booker assured you in a slightly amused tone. Some secrets were still too complicated for you to know about yet, you supposed.

Almost a half hour later, three heads eventually peered up through the shadows and Andy, Joe, and Nico lifted themselves up onto the ship. Perfectly lit by hues of the full moon, they danced towards their destination, the sheer coordination and skill reminding you of just how experienced they were. With Andy leading the pack, they silently began making their way up the vessel as a single unit. No words or other body gestures needed to be shared when they occupied the same hive mind. The group only came to a stop when they reached a door and huddled around it, trying to listen for anyone that might be on the other side. When you assumed everything was clear, Andy swiftly kicked it open and entered with her gun aimed and ready. 

Not even a minute after all three filed in, the sound of a gunshot suddenly shook you. You immediately turned to Booker, whose face gave away the slightest look of concern at the noise. This must not have happened in Buenos Aires. No more gunshots followed, thank goodness, but there were sounds of a struggle going on below deck which had the two of you on high alert. You prayed that nobody else close by could hear the commotion.

Things began to steer away from the original plan when Joe emerged from below far before he should have, struggling to keep another figure under control as he held their arms in a twisted position behind their back while continuing to firmly push them forward. Even in the dark, you could just make out how young the kid appeared to be. He couldn’t have been older than 16 and you assumed his reason for being on the ship was because he had an older relative in the crew. You relaxed when you realized that meant how unlikely it was that he’d be trained in how to fight. Joe would definitely keep from harming him unless he absolutely had to. Stupidly, you also forgot about how reckless young boys can be.

Everything fell apart in a mere matter of seconds. As he appeared to calm down, Joe eased up on the grip he held the boy with and he it didn’t seem like he would move at first. But in an instant, the scraggly kid darted from his grasp and sprinted around a corner and out of your line of sight to the completely opposite side of the ship. Booker reached for the door handle as a precaution while the rest of his body remained seated. A bead of sweat rolled down your neck despite the chill in the air and the gradual understanding that Book might be preparing to leave you on your own stilled your body completely. All of the careful planning you had fought to carefully commit to memory melted into mush.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a high-pitched whistle that rang through the air and your eyes quickly followed a bright red light travel up into the sky before it burst into a large display of lights and smoke. Time seemed to slow down and your heart sped up. Of course, if there wasn’t going to be another pistol going off, it had to be a goddamn flare gun. Yelling, alarmed Frenchmen could then be heard scrambling towards the dock and Booker cursed under his breath.

“Stay here, I’ll go help the others!” Booker leaped out of the vehicle, throwing the keys which hit your petrified figure. Part of you wanted to speak up and stop him but you could only squeak out an indecipherable sound of concern seconds after he was gone. Looking back at the ship, you caught sight of Nico peeking his head out from the door they entered through. He exited with a determined look on his face and was followed by a line of women. You itched at your sweating palms when twenty women or so had piled out and there was still no sign of Andy. 

The men hurrying in from the opposite direction quickly diverted your attention. Squinting your eyes, you were able to spot a figure in the distance headed straight towards your vehicle. You nearly panicked but caught yourself, uncertain if you were dealing with the traffickers or possibly random dock workers that had been alarmed by the flare and merely wanted to check out the situation. Either way, you decided it was still too risky to start up the engine just yet. At least, you told yourself the others probably wouldn’t want you to give away your position.

That’s when you noticed a faint movement in your side mirror. A tuft of matted blonde curls belonging to a distressed woman’s face peeked over the top of one of the crates not to far behind you. She must’ve spotted something concerning, because her eyes went wider than a trapped mouse’s and she disappeared back down, ultimately causing the crates to shake. You ground your back teeth together and prayed it was only you who had seen her. But then right on cue, the blinding glow of a flashlight landed directly over the area where the woman was hiding. The man you had spotted only moments before, his flashlight lit up a devious grin on his face that urged you to hold in your breath. He even sounded like the devil when he spoke. It didn’t take a high level French skills to tell that he began goading the poor woman like it was some sadistic game to him. 

He approached the crates ever so slowly, savoring the anticipation which laid before whatever unspeakable plans he had for his victim. It then occurred to you that she was most likely paralyzed with the same fear that had struck you.

And yet, she was the one currently being hunted while you were poised to sit and watch it unfold. You, protected by both your position and inexplicable gift of immortality. None of it seemed remotely fair and your body began to stir at the simple thought.

“Under no circumstances should you be engaging in combat,” Andy had firmly laid down the law several times leading up to this day. You’d never wanted to disobey anything she said so passionately before and here it felt like you scarcely had no other option but to go against something she forbade. 

The adrenaline rushing through your veins threw your body into action before you could debate any further. Barely aware of the forces taking hold of you, you tumbled out of the door and landed directly behind the attacker who continued to stalk forward towards the woman’s hiding place. He slowly began to raise his gun, something with barrels much longer than your forearms, and it was like you didn’t have the time to properly assess whatever danger lie at the other end. You just didn’t want it pointing at her.

Without a hint of hesitation, you drove foot into the back of the man’s left knee and he immediately crumbled down to about a third of his height. You were ready for him with your knife once his face spun around and an overpowering sense of rage guided your arm to make a clean cut from just below his right eyebrow, across the bridge of his nose, and finally through the center of his left eye. 

Something solid and heavy smacked the front of your head and you could hear the woman behind you scream in horror before everything went black.

Horrific violence was nothing if not a sheer constant to Andy. She had both experienced and caused enough to fill the oceans with blood, yet nothing made her seethe with rage more than watching yours spill from your head like a geyser. A thousand lifetimes stained with death could not have prepared her for the sight of your limp body hitting the ground, to which there was no question as to whether or not you were dead. Even if you had been wearing some type of protective head gear, a shotgun firing within five inches of your face would have been fatal. 

She was usually a pro at keeping her emotions under control until the mission was completed and never steered away from the plan without first calculating the absolute best course of action. The other teammates she had and the terrified group of women she was meant to protect called upon her to uphold her position as the leader, a task she had shouldered over a million times before despite whatever her personal feelings demanded. Absolutely none of that mattered now. Getting to you, killing that bastard, and wrapping you up in your arms became the only course of action she was capable of taking. 

Her first priority was taking out the son of a bitch that dared to touch you before anyone else got hurt. She handed off the little girl she had been carrying to Nico before barreling over a crate and launching herself over the side of the ship, rolling smoothly to break her fall when she hit the the dock. 

Despite how fast she ran, she seemed to move at a cursedly slow pace. She was still too quick for the man, his blood leaking from the fresh gash you had tore across his face, to notice her. He didn’t even get a chance to run before the warrior drove her labrys straight into the already-open wound. Andy could only revel in the brief taste of satisfaction for a moment before her emotions began swarming once again, the anger she had held for that man was now aimed solely at herself.

“Booker, get her into the back!” She barked at the Frenchman to take care of the hostage still hiding while rushing over to where your body collapsed. Up close, the sight was even more gruesome as blood, flesh, and bone were splattered all across what used to be your face. It would have been generous to call what was left of everything above your neck a simple stump. She knew she needed to get you out of there fast but hated to leave behind any parts of your head that might have been salvageable. Even saving something like an ear or significant chunk of your skull could aid in speeding up the healing process. She knew it would be excruciatingly painful for you to grow back yourself. 

She desperately grabbed at fistful of what she hoped was your brain before scooping you up in her arms. It was the fact that you were so much lighter than usual which made her wince, though she couldn’t help but be somewhat relieved when it meant it allowed her to run faster on her feet. Cautious yet quick, Andy made a beeline for the passenger’s seat of the truck and cradled your body in her arms while you continued to bleed out. It wasn’t a sight she wanted any of the hostages to witness and it’s not like she was letting go of you anytime soon anyway. 

“Drive!” One word was all she needed to command whomever was at the steering wheel to get out of there as fast as possible. It didn’t even occur to her to look up and check to see who she was sitting next to, as she immediately began trying to pick up any movement in your chest or a sign of a pulse in your wrist, anything that indicated the resurrection process was in motion.

“Please, please, come back to me,” she pleaded as your warm blood began to pool across her lap.

“Give her a second.” She realized it was Booker currently driving. “It’s only her second time and will probably take longer than expected.”

The women they had freed were now crammed together once again, only this time being in the back of a dark loading truck as it sped through the dead of night was probably far more merciful than them being forced to witness the transformation you were currently undergoing. Andy, however, couldn’t tear a single string of her attention away from you throughout the entire process. 

Each noise you made followed by the eventual cries of her name from your lips, once your mouth and airways had completely reformed, tore at Andromache deeper and deeper, in ways that no physical pain she had ever endured could compare. She bit down on her tongue till it was bloody as you repetitively squeezed her hand throughout the entire process. The same ones you often used to delicately recreate precious moments on paper broke more than a few of her bones. But Andy barely noticed and didn’t have the capacity to care. All she was focused on was you.

For the first time in centuries, the Scythian invoked the words of an ancient prayer and resurrected a long dead language as she tried to soothe your pain. She stopped believing in a higher power a long time ago but couldn’t shake the truth that repeating those words made her feel anchored to something even larger than her life or her immortality. There wasn’t anything she wouldn’t try if it might possibly bring you a sense of comfort, which she actually prayed may happen. 

[embodyingchaos]

ive tried searching Michael cera x reader and nothing shows up but you :( please write about him I'm begging 🙏

❥ i feel you on this one, nobody ever writes about him! i'm not sure if you want something for the actor or one of his characters but i've decided to write about the man himself! AND IM SORRY THIS IS REALLY LATE AND REALLY SHORT AAAAAA

on-set, off-set pairing: michael cera x actor!fem!reader genre: fluff, established relationship warnings: none, just goofyness, BUT THIS IS VERY UNEDITED word count: 538

with her brown hair swishing from side-to-side, she strutted into the scene in her purple and blue glittery swimsuit. “hi barbie!” she greeted the other blondes and brunettes scattered across the sandy beach. “hi barbie!” “hi barbie!” “oh my god, popstar barbie..” a tiny whisper said, making her turn towards the quiet sound. “h-hey barbie!” the voice was coming from a redhead she didn’t realise stood next to her the entire time. “oh, hey allan!” she replied as he nervously giggled.

“cut!” a voice yelled out causing the cameras to stop filming. the barbie placed her hands on her hips and leaned towards the one and only allan. “that was already so much fun.” she told him, grinning. “it was. too bad the others are going to have to film on different days though, huh?” allan’s actor, michael, stretched as he talked to his girlfriend of two years.

greta walked towards the two, “good job, guys! it was exactly how i imagined it.” she smiled at the couple, “for the next scene, i was thinking you could move nearer to the barbies before ken tries to impress stereotypical barbie?” she asked y/n who only nodded, “oh yeah, sure!” “great.” greta walked away from them to converse with the crew for the next scene.

michael took in the scenery of the set for a bit as they waited for the rest of the cast to arrive. ryan was one of the first ones there. “hey, ry.” the girl greeted him, waving. “hey, lovebirds.” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows. “how’s it going?” “going great! filmed that hi barbie scene for our part.” “mmm, bet it’s going to turn out great.” he gushed, crossing his arms.

“we hope so.” michael said, watching the rest of the cast walk into the studio.

the two had coincidentally been casted in the same movie without each other’s knowledge, which was hard to understand at first until they explained it in an interview after the movie had just been released.

“actually,” y/n started, “i’d gotten cast around 2020 and kept it a secret from basically everyone because i really wanted it to be a surprise, like nobody knew at all! until i showed up on the first day of filming and saw this guy!” she nudged her boyfriend’s rib and he laughed. “it seemed as though we had similar ideas on surprises because i got casted really last minute and so when i heard of the role i immediately thought ‘oh, y/n’s gonna freak out when she watches this movie and sees me there.’ then what do i know? she’s standing on set in her popstar barbie costume.” michael scoffingly laughed as the rest of the cast chuckled along.

“so, how is it working on set with your partner? any interesting quarrels that might have happened?” the interviewer asked and they shared a look. “nope. totally none.” “yeah, we have a very professional relationship on the job, i’d say.” their comments make greta snort, “they banter quite a lot on set, actually.” she jabbed, “very distracting.” ryan shook his head, “tut tut. how unprofessional.” he commented, making the others giggle.

michael and y/n only smile, how can they deny the truth?

[mushroomjar]

Did you think I forgot about it? The Halloween vocaloid playlist is done!! I'll include the links in a reblog so Tumblr doesn't bury the post, there's a YouTube playlist and a Spotify one, the YouTube one being the longer one with nearly 100 songs... yeah, I got carried away lol Reminder for those who have forgotten/not in the know, this playlist starts with cute lighthearted songs about Halloween and monsters, and gets darker in tone and sound the deeper down the playlist you go

I don't want to make the post too long so I'll just include a general content warning for the songs in the playlist, and under the cut I might list all the songs and ramble a bit about what it was like to make the playlist. I hope you enjoy!^^

Content Warnings: flashing lights, bright images, loud sounds and jumpscares, disturbing images and noises, death, body horror, gore, cannibalism, abuse, stalking, potentially paranoia-inducing songs/lyrics

The playlist has been done for days, I've just been procrastinating on actually making the post until now lmao sorry! I had a lot of fun making the playlist and going through the suggestions, it also made me fall in love with some producers I hadn't paid much attention to before (shout out to all of the people who sent in Babuchan suggestions, as you can see I went down a bit of a Babuchan rabbit hole and added tons of his stuff to the playlist, same for machigerita lol)

I'll admit that one of the reasons the playlist kept getting longer was because I'd look at other creepy/scary vocaloid playlists on YouTube for inspiration, and every time I was nearly done I would write down 20 more songs to check out, which is why it took me a whole month to get this playlist done lol. I hope it was worth it! I'm very pleased with how it all turned out

There were also many songs/producers I really liked but decided not to include in the playlist, for example I found DaijoubuP, who I really like, but I didn't think it fit the vibe of the kind of Halloween playlist I wanted to make, so none of his stuff is in the playlist. Same goes for SEIKAI, his songs sound very creepy but I found the lyrics a bit too dark and I wanted to try to keep the playlist a bit more lighthearted. Maybe I'll make a more general vocahorror playlist sometime to highlight all of these producers' work! Who knows

Something else I realized because of this playlist is my standard for creepy vocaloid music might be a bit different than other people's. I got many Maretu suggestions, and I love the guy and completely understand why some of his music was suggested (such as Coin Locker Baby), but it surprised me just how much I'd see him suggested in the notes of my post or in Spotify playlists, he's never really given me the creeps even with his darker lyrics. Not judging! Just an observation I had

You'll notice that I've been using vocaloid as a bit of an umbrella term, since there are a couple of songs that use UTAU and even Synth-V voicebanks^^

I think that's all I have to say for now, so I'll just list all the songs in the playlist and hurry to put the links in a reblog! Thank you so much to everyone who helped with the playlist, all of your suggestions were really appreciated, I would not have as good a playlist if it wasn't for you^^

The song list is mainly because I tried to link back to the original producers whenever possible, and also sometimes the songs were very hard to find, so a lot of the titles are in Japanese, so I figured having the songs and producers written out here would make it a bit easier for you to navigate the playlist^^ Anyway, songs:

Happy Halloween - Junky

SLASH/ER - Circus-P

Ghosts Play To The Audience - PinocchioP

Kikkai Kettai - Meddmia

Zen'yasai no akuma - mayuko

Furaan Furaan Zombie - nem

Fake-Cryer Pumpkin - CycleP

Zen'yasai no kuroneko - mayuko

Halloween Patisserie TrickaTorka - machigerita

Halloweenya - Chinozo

Dream-Eating Monochrome Baku - nem

Creepy Toast - CircusP

Pumpkin March - momocashew

Selfish Princess - fujiwo

Pumpkin Head Spooky Dance - machigerita

Dream Meltic Halloween - machigerita

Giga giga witch - Kurosawa Madoka

Trich, Trach, Trick Parade - sasasaP

Happy Hollow And The God Club - Nanou

Saa, Docchi? - HINATA Haruhana

Propaganda! - Crusher-P

What Gave It Away - R.I.P

Shadow Shadow - Azari

Splatter Party - Camellia

Who? - Azari

Pandemic - YuugouP

Twilight Homicide Song - Kiraboshi Hikaru

Greedy Halloween Candy Nights - machigerita

Gochisou - Xitoo

Spiral-Luvox - Tune Tonic/Switch

Mrs. Pumpkin's Comical Dream - hachi

trick and treat - OSTER Project

Strange Masquerade Halloween - machigerita

Oxidation And Dream Monsters - Ghost

Oz no Kaitai Show - Ankoku DouwaP/Joruzin

Sadistic.Music Factory - cosMo@BouSou-P

Hourglass - HiiragiKirai

Dance With The Dead - Ghost

Alice of Human Sacrifice - Yugami-P

Candy Addict Full Course - machigerita

The Boy Who Went To Hell - SHUDDER

Crazy Clown - Intro-P

Ideal Picture - NanoritaP

Serial Contraption of Malice - Ghost

Twins - Babuchan

Not As It Seems - Creep-P

Amydgala's Rag Doll - Ghost

Hyouhon Shoujo - Kiyozumi

Rotten Girl, Grotesque Romance - machigerita

Grotesque Love Song - shoutarouP

That Woman - shoutarouP

Musunde hiraite rasetsu to mukuro - hachi

Hide And Seek - Ho-ong-i

Tokeru Sakana - Yuzuri_Hal

Greetings From The Bottom Of The Well - machigerita

Color & Electricity - mushiP

Patchwork Toxin - machigerita

Bacterial Contamination - Kanimiso-P

Song for Great Satan - Nanka-P

Taiyou-sama - Abuse/Abuse-Ken

Fear Garden - Chaa

Despair The Burguer Factory - Groy Anderson

The Cyclops - David K.

Tears of Artificial Flowers - Babuchan

Moon Prescription - Babuchan

Rugrats Theory - Crusher-P

Monochrome Ward - Yugami-P

Bone Dead Mansion - Babuchan

50/50 - Risshuu

Dark Woods Circus - machigerita

Wide Knowledge of the Late Madness - machigerita

Tell me you'll love me - Babuchan

After School - Okashi-P

Lavender Town - neku

???????? - SocialPhobiaSynaps

behe-laino_hotza-bihotza - sakizakisaki

In A Rainy Town, Balloons Dance With Devils - hachi

Sand Gum - MOL.

Nodoka na Kyuujitsu - HikkieP

Broken Toy Mania - Babuchan

Red Flower - Babuchan

Cry Baby - Babuchan

Fuzai - MondaijiP

Boku Yaranai, Kimi Itooshi - nicol

Ant Observation - Healing-P

A 13-Year Old Killer - Sunazame

0 People's Waltz - Babuchan

Varicella - Babuchan

Kagome Kagome - Zawazawa-P

potatoman - MondaijiP

Okaasan - machigerita

VOCALOID UTOPIA - dennoko-P

Hyperpnea - Hikkie-P

Crushed Mary - Mondaiji-P

Nakazu to mo Rokkaku Wrench da Hototsugi - MondaijiP

Complex - Watashi no koko

[imagines--galore]

Idk who Spencer Ried is.. is that how you spell his lastname? I can't remember. Anyways I've never seen criminal minds but I love your writing

What if like.. they're friends but know they like each other just haven't like established anything yet. One day they're chilling in readers house or something and Spencer goes:

"Can I kiss you?"

Reader is all shy and quietly goes "I've never kissed before..." and he just "I can teach you" fluff ensues

Pairing: Dr. Spencer Reid x Reader Rating || Genres || Warnings: T. Romance. Fluff. None, just a little kissing. A/N: Ok I'm so flattered that you would send in a request just to read what I write :3 Thank you so much! Also I put a tiny spin on your request at the end so I hope thats alright?

"That is not how its done!"

"You said to roll them into balls, so I rolled them into balls!"

"Not ones the size of Pluto."

"Technically they're not the actual size of-"

"Spence!"

"Alright fine! I'll roll them smaller this time."

Rolling your eyes playfully, you turned your attention back to the pasta dough you were kneading. If someone had old you a couple weeks ago that you would be on your fourth date with your longtime crush, you would've asked them to go see a Doctor. Because there was no way the cute FBI Agent who came into your little coffee shop almost everyday reciprocated your feelings.

You had chatted with him every time he came in, so you knew him rather well just as he knew you. And while there was something akin to friendship growing between the two of you, you couldn't help but feel that there was something more. More then one time the both of you and flirted with the other, though it was all innocent and nothing ever really came of it.

So it came as a huge surprise when one day he walked in and asked you out.

Point blank and straight forward.

You actually kind of liked that.

The first date was a success. So was the second. As well as the third. Now you were on your fourth date and neither of you had made a move. Probably because you were just as shy as he was. You had plucked up the courage to kiss his cheek at the end of the first date. And he had kissed your forehead when the two of you had gone dancing on the previous date.

But other then that, nothing.

And it didn't bother you. You just loved being around him and spending time with him.

You current date was being held at your home, where the both of you were making dinner together. You had wanted to try out your knew pasta machine and having a brilliant guy like Spencer around did speed things up a little in terms of setting the thing up.

You were a little hopeless when it came to it.

Depositing the paste dough in the refrigerator to rest, you turned around to see Spencer holding out a much more appropriately size meatball. You grinned in approval. "That looks so much better Spence." You said, walking to stand beside him. He smiled at the praise and was rather quick with the rest of the rolling before he stuck a tray full of meatballs in the freezer.

"Now we wait?" He asked, taking off the gloves he'd been wearing and washing his hands. You nodded, glancing at your own flour covered hands and holding them under the running water.

"Move over." You playfully bumped his side as you tried to steal the soap from his hand. "I was here first!" He retorted, shoving you back as well. Your hand accidentally flicked some water into his face, prompting him to let out a sound of surprise. You laughed at his expression, but that was soon cut off when he cupped some of the water and threw it in your face as well.

"You had some flour on your face." He stated with a smug grin as you playfully glared at him. But that expression broke when you reached up to ruffle is hair. You had always wanted to do that, and now that the both of you were dating, you were allowed to do so without looking strange.

You leaned back to look at his dumbfounded expression, laughing softly as you did. "You look so adorable." You stated, ruffling his hair once more. His expression slowly morphed into an adoring smile, one that had you blushing to the roots of your hair and your heart to start beating really fast. You moved to quickly step away from him, but he reached out to grasp your hand and hold you in place.

Your eyes met.

"Can I kiss you?"

The suddenness of the question did take you by surprise, but you were quick to jerk your head in a nod.

Every so slowly his head leaned down, while you pushed yourself on your toes to reach him. Within a single breath your lips were against his and you felt your insides melt.

The kiss was soft and shy, fitting given how the both of you had been around one another since you met. His hands settled on your waist, while your arms lifted to wrap around his shoulders. He pulled you closer, prompting you to sigh against his lips when you felt him against you. The kiss didn't last very long though, although you wished it did. You gave a small laugh.

"Well certainly never done that before." You said. His hands tightened where they rested on the side of your waist as he quirked his head in confusion. "What kissing?" You shook your head. "No, I mean kissing you. If I knew just how much I enjoyed it I would've perfected it by now."

This was just your way of baiting him to kiss you again.

"Well we can always practice some more?" He suggested. You giggled. Sometimes Spencer could be so clueless about social cues, and you found it extremely adorable.

"Sounds like a plan." With that you reached up to meet his lips once more.

Suffice to say, you had a rather late dinner that night given how the both of you were so busy perfecting the art of kissing.

[ashoss]

Hii!! This is waterunderthebridge12, I just stumbled across your art of The Robin Declaration and it made my entire week <3333. I love Duke so much and I'm so glad there are others who love him too!!! I would love if you dropped your Duke-centric fic recs, I've only read a few good ones (that aren't just him being an outsider) so any recs are appreciated!

oh my god! hii! im so glad u liked the silly little doodle lol i would love to do an actual drawing for either The Robin Generation or the Robin Declaration !! they were such fun reads and i absolutely adored the way you portrayed all of them <33

unfortunately i dont really have a lot of duke-centric fics but i have a couple!

WHEN EARTH FINDS STARS. by orpheusaki

duke & jason, pre-WAR and signal

15.8k words, 4 chapters (unfinished)

"Let it be known that I completely detest the implications of what this situation is mirroring," Red Hood grumbles to himself and it's the longest string of words Duke has heard from any so-called Gotham vigilante, let alone the one who's known for shooting more than he is talking. "The fuck?" Duke mutters, because if he's already going to die, he might as well try and make sense of it. "I'm not going to care about whatever sob story you have," is what Red Hood replies with instead of explaining, "Where are your parents?" "Gone," is all Duke says, because it's really none of this guy's business. It's also the truth. Somehow, Red Hood sounds even more anguished about this information than Duke is, "Ah shit." (Duke steals the tires off Red Hood's bike and somehow gains a family.)

YOU HEAR ITS SONG FROM THE MORNING BIRDS. (series) by orpheusaki

duke & bruce, duke & batfam

9k words, 3 words (unfinished)

A series of Duke Thomas centric works, mostly featuring his growing relationship with his new kind-of-dad-boss-friend, Bruce Wayne.

Keep Your Head, Your Backbone, and Your Heart by MrMich

duke & tim, alfred, bruce

54k words, 6 chapters

The last thing that Duke expected on what was supposed to be just a regular patrol was being suddenly thrown five years into the past, coming face to face with a darker, more violent Batman than the one he knew, a broken family, and a Tim who was a foot shorter than Duke, and not even Robin yet.

A silent shadow flitted past him, just barely visible on the cave walls. He went rigid, tracking the shadow in the corner of his vision. And then he dropped to the floor, just in time, as a familiar black gloved fist passed overhead. He just barely missed being hit by the punishing blow that would have landed right on his temple for a sure concussion if he hadn’t dodged. “Batman?” Duke yelled. He somersaulted forward, just barely avoiding another strike. “B, what are you doing?!” “Who are you,” came the growled response. A shiver crawled down Duke’s spine at the grim hostility in Batman’s voice that promised violence, and something tightened in the back of his throat.

Family-- by incorrectbatfam

duke & batfam

3.3k words, 1 chapter

“Your assignment over the weekend is to write a poem about your family.”

Strange Bedfellows by snackbaskets

duke & steph & jason

2.7k words, 1 chapter

Little known fact about bats: they're AWFUL at sleeping alone. At least, the ones in the Manor seem to be, if the half-conscious kind-of-maybe siblings using Duke as a body pillow are any indication. When did he sign up for this?

Ghosts Of The Past by PlatitudinalTeen

duke & martha, thomas, duke & bruce

7.2k words, 1 chapter

Shortly after moving into Wayne manor, Duke discovers he can commune with the dead when his grandparents, Thomas and Martha Wayne begin to accidentally haunt him. ------- "No powers?" Duke repeated, even more confused as he tried to recall everything he had ever heard about Ghosts. "So, you can't possess anyone or make the lights flicker? What about telekinesis and all the other scary stuff from the books and movies?" "Those things can only be achieved by malicious spirits, dear," Martha told him. "We may be ghosts, but we aren't vengeful." They had made peace with their deaths, and even if they were still tied to the manor, it was exactly where they wanted to be. Thomas chuckled. "Yes, that's more of our son's department," he quipped, using his fingers to mimic Batman's ears. "Vengeance is a young man's game, really."

Starshine by zodarii_dae

duke & bruce, reverse robins

3.6k words, 1 chapter

Duke Thomas is a Gothamite, through and through. There’s not a lot he knows for certain, but he knows that the bagels are great, that Bruce Wayne is stupid rich, and that Batman will always protect him. That’s just how it is. So when Batman promises to bring him to his family, he believes him. Neither of them expected it to happen quite the way it did, but it all works out for the best. Or How Duke loses his parents, gains a new family, and becomes a vigilante- in that order, with some stuff in between.

necessary reminders by Quillium

duke & batfam

5.2k words, 1 chapter

Duke, as Signal becomes known and as Duke becomes part of the Wayne family.

*ao3 acc needed

hope you enjoy !!!

[wren-writes-stuff]

Of Lattes And Lab Rats: Chapter 4- Tripleshot Espresso

(See here for masterlist and warnings. This story is 18+!!!)

It's three more days before you see Jayce come in again, despite what you agreed.

The first and second days, you give him a pass- maybe something came up at work and he just couldn't make it. It happens, you supposed. Your feelings were a little hurt, but you tried not to let it get to you.

The third day, your feelings really were hurt. Maybe he'd decided he didn't like you after all? Or maybe you'd misread him, and it wasn't a date. Did you misremember the day? Maybe you'd done something to upset him.

Your mind is elsewhere your whole shift, and you make significantly more mistakes than usual. Poe notices, and whisks you into the supply room as soon as the rush slows down. His yellow eyes are full of concern, feathery eyebrows furrowed together.

"You're making a lot of mistakes today, girly. This isn't like you. Are you alright?"

You nod, slightly frustrated with yourself for not hiding it better. "Yeah. I'm sorry. I'm just distracted. I'll do better, I promise."

Poe looks you over, his concern unwavering. You can tell he doesn't believe you entirely, but he doesn't push for more information. He places a sharp-clawed hand on your shoulder, gently reassuring you.

"I'm here if you need anything. I know we're not friends and I'm just ya' boss, but I mean it. I want to help, if I can."

You shrug, patting his hand gently. "Thank you, but I promise I'm okay." You try to sound convincing- for both your sakes.

You open your mouth to say more, until the service bell dings from the other room, signaling a waiting customer. Poe's gaze softens, and he lets go of your shoulder.

"Do you need a break? I can cover for you for a while if you'd like." You shake your head "no."

"That's okay, Poe. Maybe if you let me off early though?" You say, only half joking. Poe chuckles.

"Yeah, alright. You deserve it. I can't remember the last time you had a day off, now that I think about it, girly. Take tomorrow for yourself."

You stutter, surprised. "B-but...I mean, I don't think I can afford to miss a shift, Poe. Rent's due soon, and-" He cuts you off.

"Think of it as a paid sick day. I'll cover for you, it's okay. You deserve it." The bell dings again, twice this time. "Go," he says. "I'll be in the office. You're off at four today."

You head back to your station, fixing your apron as you go.

"Welcome to The Roost," You exclaim with fake cheeriness. "Sorry about the wait-"

You look up from your apron ties finally, and find none other than Jayce, shifting his weight uncomfortably. He looks exhausted. A five o'clock shadow graces his face, and his hair is slightly disheveled. Concern paints your emotions at first, before it sours to annoyance. You try your best to be friendly anyway. "Oh. Hello, again. What can I get you?" He smiles wearily at you, fidgeting with his hands.

"Triple-shot espresso, if you please." He croaks. His voice is deep and gravelly, like he just woke up- but looking at the clock, it's almost one PM. You grab a cup from the stack, surprised.

"That's quite a bit of caffeine," you say coolly, "You sure you want three?"

"Better make it four, actually," He says through a yawn.

"Sheesh, mister," you write his name and a '4' on the cup, "You must be pret-ty tired." You turn around to start on his drink. "What's got you up at night?" You weren't going to make conversation, but there was no one in line; and despite your chagrin, it seems rude not to.

"Something came up at work, and I've had to pull a couple all nighters to get things done." You can't see him, but you hear him yawn again. You turn around.

"Did you want this as a latte or just straight black?"

"Hmm...whatever you put in my tea last time was delicious. Can I have that?" You preen just a bit at his compliment, but you're still too annoyed to show it.

"Sure," You say flatly, and fight the blush on your face as you turn back to the task at hand.

"Listen, I-" Jayce starts to speak, but you flip on the milk steamer with a loud and terrible screeching sound before he can finish.

You wish it was intentional.

"Listen, I'm sorry I didn't come to see you like I said I would. I got busy with work, and...I don't know. I was a little nervous," he admitted. You stifle a scoff.

"Nervous?"

That's your excuse?, you think to yourself. He fiddles with his wallet. You think about giving him your shift drink again, but think better of it.

"Two cogs and a hex, please."

You ring him up on the register, drop in his coins (you tried very hard not to think too hard about how your fingertips brushed his palm when you grabbed them), and scribble a receipt for him on the paper pad. His finger tips brushed yours as he took it from you (and the teenage girl inside you was absolutely screaming.)

He's still looking at you with guilt, and you realize you never actually accepted his apology. You're still annoyed, but you concede. It's hard to stay mad at him with those dopey puppy eyes.

"It's okay," you sigh. "Shit happens, I get it. I-"

"Ah-Ah-Ah!" You turn around with a start, only to find Poe lingering behind you. He looks embarrassed, feathers standing up straight. "We don't swear at the customers, my dear girl. I thought I trained you better-"

"It's okay," Jayce cuts him off, and his crown feathers relax a tad. "She's a friend of mine. I know she meant well." He smiled tiredly, and you give Jayce a silent "thank you" in your mind for saving you from a lecture. Poe gives him a small bow.

"I see." He adjusts the half-moon glasses sitting on his beak, standing up straighter.

"Well, my dear girl, I believe it's time for you to go. Thank you for your hard work today."

"But...it's only One O'clock. I thought you said I was off at-" you try to protest, but he shushes you.

"Go on and spend some time with your friend." He shoots you a fatherly wink, and the heat that already colors your face intensifies in embarrassment. "I've got it from here, girly. Go ahead."

You give him a small smile, and glance over at Jayce.

"Wait for me outside?"

"Sure." He smiles at you, and your stomach twists. He heads towards the door, bell chiming.

'Thank you, Poe. I owe you one." You head to the office to hang up your hat and apron, grab your purse, and walk outside to meet Jayce. He leans against the window like he did just three days ago, practically asleep on his feet. You nudge him gently to get his attention.

"Hey," you say softly, "You okay?" He yawns, rubbing his eyes.

"Yeah, sorry," he croaks.

"We don't actually have to hang out," you say apologetically. "I'm sorry about him. He means well, but...hah, I dunno. Um, if you need to get back to work, I can walk you over there?" Jayce shakes his head, yawning yet again.

"Actually, I was going to head home for the day. But, please," he looks at you with half lidded eyes, and your heart skips a beat, "can I see you tomorrow? I really am very sorry I stood you up. It's my day off, we can do whatever you'd like."

You shake your head.

"You didn't 'stand me up' if we didn't have plans in the first place Jayce. I already accepted your apology. Yes, of course, I would love to see you again. But...wait, if you're not going back to work, why did you want the espresso?" He chuckles dryly, clearly embarrassed.

"Call it supporting the local economy, I guess." His lips quirk upward into a half smile.

My goodness, what is this man doing to you? Your face burns again, and the way he's looking at you, though you know it's only exhaustion, elicits a certain heat to pool between your legs. Oh my god you are so embarrassing.

"Alright, then. Meet me at my loft tomorrow morning?"

He looks surprised, and you suddenly realize how that sounds.

“I-I just mean…we can go from there. I’ll make us a nice breakfast, and we can plan out our day together. I you want.” You grin sheepishly, hoping he doesn’t back out now.

He doesn't.

"That sounds excellent." He beams at you again, and stands up straight. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go home and take a fat nap." He turns to leave, waving goodbye. "See you in the morning." You watch him leave for a moment, trying to calm your nerves. You don't think it's normal to be this excited by someone you barely know.

—————-

Back in your apartment, you kick off your shoes and give your cat a good scratch under her chin. "Hallo my sweet giiirl" you say, as if speaking to a toddler. The loft is blissfully quiet, except the clock ticking on the wall. You revel in the silence for a moment- away from the constant noise of people chattering, machines whirring, beeping, sloshing liquid. This was your paradise.

You take a much needed hot shower, throw on comfy clothes, and brew yourself a hot cup of tea. Even with the warm air of the apartment, it feels comforting in your hands. You silently wish it was his warmth, before shaking your head to dispel the thoughts. You pad over to your easel by the bay window and settle in for a long night of painting.

You never considered yourself to be an artist. You weren't good at it. But oh, you loved it so much. Getting lost in the brushstrokes for hours was something you wished you could do full time, instead of working at the shop; but art school is expensive, and though Piltover high society had an appreciation for the arts, there wasn't much demand for your wares. Piltover was the city of progress; of science, math, medicine. They didn't leave room for much else. Nonetheless, you managed to sell your paintings every now and again, to regular cafe customers who had patience enough to chat with you.

Before long, you find your eyes getting heavy, and you stop to take a break; you lean back in your chair, taking a look at the bigger picture. This was something you'd been working on for weeks now, and you still weren't close to being done. The canvas was large enough that you had to stand on your tip-toes when working on the top parts. You rest your chin on your palm, resolving to just rest your eyes for a moment...and then you'll get back to work, you tell yourself.

Right before you doze off completely.

[donnerpartyofone]

4, 7, 15

Thanks pal!

4. I'm looking forward to a bunch of things I guess, although also everything makes me so nervous that anticipation is never untainted! I'm looking forward to my book coming out, even though it has all sorts of little flaws that I can barely prevent myself from spontaneously defending/confessing. I'm looking forward to a blu-ray commentary I'm gonna record soon (can't announce yet) plus a bunch of writing I got assigned, all really cool things but I know how much work they are and I wonder if I'm going to survive it every time! I'm looking forward to a horror event I have to host in a couple weeks; it's insanity, I'm paying $$$ for travel and lodging to be on a stage for probably ten minutes to just sort of be the face of the event and provide "support", but that's what it means to me apparently. I think that I should try to find some longer term things to look forward to, but that will be a whole project, I've always had a lot of trouble with goal formation. I'm always doing one short-term thing at a time and feeling like I barely got away with it.

7. 2023 was really insane. My mental health was crumbling really badly in tandem with our tiny, ridiculous apartment where we had lived for ten years. There were huge ups and downs with the big TBA project I basically gave my life to, that I may never be able to "A" but hopefully some day someone will tell me if it is officially cancelled so I can at least talk about it a little. I also wrote my book and I got a chance to go to London to record my first blu-ray commentary, which was a huge adventure and it happened amidst a bunch of really complicated dramatic events I don't have the space for; it was like, we moved out of our apartment, and somebody died, and I had to get on a plane to another country immediately, and I still have this feeling like I went through a portal to another dimension and when I landed at home again it was in another universe and that's where I've been ever since. I got to do some major writing projects that kind of felt like, well OK I did THIS, maybe it will be alright if I die now. I got to be on the jury of the local horror film festival and that was really awesome...and I'm starting to realize that this roundup makes it sound like I'm an incredibly ambitious and busy professional person who is fulfilling her dreams, but none of this stuff pays the bills and I am chronically unemployed, and I seem to have a lot of cognitive and intellectual problems, and I'm just terrified that I'm going to have to starve to death eventually. Toward the end of the year I tried to go back into therapy (round 3) and the search itself was really frightening, but when I finally picked someone I had made a really bad choice and the ~3 sessions I had with her fucked up my mind so badly, I wasn't OK for like two months. I still need to figure that out though, there's a lot of stuff wrong with me.

15. Personality description, wow. Maybe it would be fun to do one of those Marvel cards with all my "stats". How do I answer this? My instinct is to list all my pathologies, but then I think I should say what I'm like socially, but then I remember that I'm pretty different from one situation to another. I have incredible anxiety and I'm always tired from a lot of heavy duty masking, but the masking is 1 part survival instinct and 1 part compassion for others I would say. Almost all of my relationships are these intense one-on-one bonds, I don't do well in groups or with people who can't sustain a long conversation about one thing. But even with people I really know and love I have trouble being spontaneous, I have to script all my phone calls just in case I suddenly lose my mind. I think a lot of people perceive me as like really tough and self-possessed and even ambitious, which blows my mind; I've had a number of relationships that fell apart because the person came up with the fantasy that I was this bad bitch and then they were disappointed that I'm actually really vulnerable and nervous and incompetent. I'm not completely sure what that's about, but I think it could be partially a "social cues" problem; like sometimes I don't realize that I'm being inappropriately harsh until it's too late, and other times I'm like daring myself to be more honest and frank because I think that I'm too meek and it's not normal and people don't like that and I should practice having more self-confidence...and then I'm mortified when I find out the hard way that I was being inappropriate. But the one thing I can probably say without reservation is that I have a great sense of humor. It's like my prized possession, an incredible survival tool, and it keeps me entertained even when I have nothing else.

[intrepidacious]

hi! ok I just wanted to ask someone who knows how tumblr works haha

so I found someone who writes amazing content so I decided to follow them. I binged lots of their fics earlier today and when I checked their profile again later, their profile doesn’t show. It seems they might have blocked me and I don’t know why :( I commented that I loved their fics and the comments are removed. my profile has my age and I am decently active on reposting & commenting on fics. This happened to me one other time too so I just am confused I guess :( I tried to message them but it said it wouldn’t go through so that makes me think I’m blocked? I guess I don’t know why a couple people blocked me? Just kinda made me sad bc I really enjoy their work but now I won’t be able to see anymore ☹️😢

happy to!! 💛

first thing you gotta remember that in all likelihood, your getting blocked is nothing personal. reasons for blocking someone on tumblr include but aren't limited to:

you don't have your age (range) listed in your bio/clearly visible on your blog

the age you have listed doesn't adhere to boundaries a blog has set (f.e. you're a minor, or it only says "18+" which i know many writers don't accept)

your blog is completely empty i.e. you don't post/reblog stuff

you don't reblog other people's writing

you spam like posts

you've never changed the default icon/header to something else

people don't vibe with the things you reblog

your theme is a colour they don't like

a lot of the time, it comes down to everyone's preferences. god knows i've been blocked by people and didn't understand why, but frankly it's none of my business. most likely, you won't ever find out, either. everyone is creating their own online space, and sometimes that means having a quick blocking finger. i'm sorry that you won't be able to read those stories anymore but you have to accept creators' boundaries.

however, there are some things you can do and try to prevent getting blocked in the future. these are only a couple of suggestions around tumblr etiquette i've picked up on over the years; if anyone else wants to chip in here, please do!!

1. make sure your blog is, by all appearances, that of a human being

this might sound stupid because of course, you are a human, but with the recent bot wars it's all the more important to double check for red flags.

check your url. does it include a random string of numbers, lots of dashes, just a name and an adjective? all of these have been indicative of porn bots and people might block you on sight.

change your icon and your header. yes, both of them. there are lots of creators on here who make wonderful fandom related headers and icons, or you can create your own with canva. just be sure to follow creators' rules and preferably reblog their creation

change your blog title. if your account is new, it will just say "untitled", which is another indication you might not be a human. use quotes, song lyrics, anything you enjoy

add a bio. this is where you put your name or nickname (you can make one up) age, age range, links to second blogs (if applicable), more quotes, whatever. i prefer my bio short and to the point, but that doesn't have to be you.

important: do this for all blogs and side blogs you use regularly. if you have a second blog for reblogging fics, you need to put up your age there as well, or at least visibly link to your main blog so creators can see you're not a minor. the harder it is to verify that you're an adult, the more likely it is that you will get blocked

2. know the different kinds of interactions on tumblr and navigate them well

there's a difference between liking, commenting, reblogging, and reposting, and it's important. lots of people use reblogging and reposting interchangeably, but that's actually incorrect and can lead to serious mishaps. let's dissect them one by one.

liking.

you're familiar with the like from other social media platforms. you tap a post twice or hit the little heart at the bottom of the post and it's added to your likes. wonderful, right? well. tumblr is a little different.

tumblr doesn't have an algorithm. let me say that again. there is no algorithm on tumblr. i guess there is, on the for you page, but that doesn't count because it's really shit. the only important thing on tumblr is your dashboard, and your dashboard only shows original posts and the reblogs of those posts from people you follow.

no one cares about your likes. your likes don't do shit. that's why creatives on here keep talking about reblogs. you need to reblog things on tumblr in order for them to get seen. it's a snowballing effect. likes are nice and all, but they're private. they're not contributing to a story or an artwork being seen by more people. they're essentially empty interaction. what's more, should a post get deleted for whatever reason, that post is gone for you forever.

i know some people use their likes as bookmarks for things they want to look at later, but i would strongly urge you not to do that. people block serial likers, because most of the time it is, sadly, very unlikely that they will come back and actually interact with the post again. that's just the way it is. we can thank tiktok and instagram for that. again, tumblr doesn't have an algorithm. if you want to genuinely support and encourage people on here, you need to do more than liking.

commenting.

this is a step up from liking, because you're actually interacting now. a comment will show up in the activity of the person whose post you left it on and of the original poster (op)—more on that distinction in a minute. comments are encouraged especially on ask/answer type posts, or as a reply to an earlier reblog.

when it comes to fanfic, there are, again, pros and cons. you can only leave a comment from your main blog, which means that even if you have a second account where you reblog fics, there's not necessarily a link between the two. this can lead to your getting blocked if you've never reblogged a fic to your main blog. on the other hand, if people comment on your fic without reblogging it, but they do reblog other people's fics, that can also rub creators the wrong way because it creates a strange sort of hierarchy: why those fics? why not mine?

important thing to note: i am not saying that to make anyone feel bad about "just" commenting, i just want you to be aware that this might go on in a creator's head. it has in mine. i'm very aware that this is a me problem, but it's also a reason why people might get blocked out of the blue, which is why i wanted to bring it up.

reblogging.

ah yes, reblogging. reblogging is the thing that makes tumblr tumblr, and it's so easy to do. you just hit the little 🔁 symbol at the bottom of the post, and boom, it's reblogged to your own blog. everyone who follows you can now see it on their dashboard, and if they reblog it, their followers can see it, and so on and so forth. every time someone reblogs a post from you, you will get a notification in your activity, and so will the op.

reblogs are the heart and soul of tumblr. yes, original posts are (usually) individual creations, but the community aspect of this site is born through the reblog. there are different variations on how to reblog. all are valid, because all help spreading posts around.

the empty reblog is the quickest option. there's literally a quick reblog option on mobile: if you hold your finger on the reblog button for a second or so, you will see your icon appear. if you swipe in that direction, the post gets immediately reblogged to your blog. something similar can be done on desktop with the xkit browser extension. it's fast, it's easy, it gets the job done. it's perfect for when you like a post but don't have anything specific to say/reply.

the reblog with tags is the second fastest option. tags, on tumblr, are sort of the sotto voce version of comments. yes, you can use tagging to organise your blog and make your posts easily findable (is that a word?) but the real fun begins when little asides are added. you can keysmash in the tags. you can put your thoughts in the tags. you can go full caps without it looking overwhelming in the actual post. if you're just starting to comment on things, the tags are a great place to start, because the actual post will keep looking the same; the tags are just a little additional bonus for both you and the creator. this is what you would use for the majority of posts that aren't works of art in any way, too, like text posts you want to find again, polls, photographs etc.

the reblog with additions though? oh boy. that's the real stuff. imagine it as clipping on your thoughts to the post, right there for everyone to see. you can add gifs, and memes, and change the font, and change the colour, and scream, and keysmash, and ramble without limitations. it's like catnip for the op. if you reblog a fic, a moodboard, a piece of art, a gifset, whatever it is, and you put your thoughts underneath? man, it's amazing.

side note: if you're new to commenting on people's fics and you don't know what to say, i highly recommend referring to this post. (btw i linked my reblog so it can act as an example of the different forms of adding to a post: there were other reblogs before mine, and i've added tags. useful in its content and as an example!!)

reposting.

this is where we need to be careful. reblogs are great. reposts are theft. where's the difference? reposting refers to you copying another creator's work, whatever it may be, and creating a new post without any indication to the original person's efforts. even if you do include their url, you will most likely get reported and blocked. because now, you've become the op of this copied post, and the actual creator will get absolutely nothing.

you will most likely have seen banners in fic communities that state something along the lines of "don't copy or translate any of my work to this or any other site". that's what this refers to. this would also include the following:

posting another writer's story to ao3/wattpad/another fic site of your choice without their permission. you can absolutely never do this. "but what if"—NO. never. fullstop.

some creators allow translations of their work, but you can only ever share those with their explicit permission and proper credit.

saving a gif to use without linking back to the artist. this is maybe my biggest gripe. yes, i know this site sucks at making gifs searchable, but still, you can't do this. and no, "credit goes to the original artist" doesn't count, where did that bullshit even come from? it makes me so mad. that's not giving credit, that's being lazy.

3. be nice, and have fun

this is fandom, and it's supposed to be a hobby. this is supposed to be a good time. none of us are getting paid for any of this. yes, we're all passionate about what we do, whether we're looking at other people's creations or we make them ourselves. we're fans of that common thing, and isn't that great?

just a little more internet etiquette that's not really tumblr specific but could be a good reminder for everyone:

not everything is for you, and that's okay

if something's not for you, scroll away

if you don't like what someone is posting, ignore them. mute them. block them.

do not ever, and i mean ever, send anyone hate. you don't know who's on the other side of the screen. block them and move on. life's too fucking short.

don't correct people's grammar/spelling. only assholes do that. if you can't help yourself and they're a person you've interacted with before, shoot them a private message and be nice about it.

don't offer unsolicited advice. i don't care if you want to give constructive criticism to help the other person. unless they've explicitly asked you to do that, don't. you'll get blocked so quick, and you'll ruin someone's day.

if you're reading a fic that's not finished yet, don't ask for an update. yes, you're excited for the story to continue. but "part 2", "when's the next chapter out", "more please" and so on are all things that put pressure on creators whether that's your intention or not. it gives us the impression that what we've already put out is never enough. and that sucks. by all means, be excited about what comes next, but not like this.

read!! old!! fics!!!! the beauty of tumblr being the way it is is that there's zero shame in interacting with older posts. it's not like you're liking a seven year old post on instagram. in fact, if you're commenting on a seven year old fic/gifset/moodboard/artwork on tumblr, i can guarantee you're gonna make that creator's day.

i'm absolutely positive that i've forgotten something in this post even though it's longer than several of my wips, so if any of my moots want to add something that'd be great!! in fact i'm gonna tag some of you because you know what? if you've read all of this you deserve a kiss. have a wonderful day 💛

@marvelettesassemblenow @barnesafterglow @imaginearyparties @aphrogeneias @brandycranby @writing-for-marvel @foreverindreamlandd @sanguineterrain @demxters @wildlivelychild

[coraniaid]

1, 6, 10, 12 for the book asks!

1) How many books did you read this year?

Fifty-one (so far), which I have slightly mixed feelings about.

It's more books than I've read in a year since before 2020, which I'm pretty pleased with as a personal milestone (even though I know that of course other people are capable of reading a lot more than that). But my goal for the year was fifty-two, and it's looking pretty unlikely I'll manage that. Especially since I'm spending time on Tumblr rather than reading at the moment...

6) Was there anything you meant to read, but never got to?

Not really? There are several recently published books still on my to-read pile, sure -- The Saint of Bright Doors by Vajra Chandrasekera; The Daughters' War by Christopher Buehlman; The Dead Cat Tail Assassins by P Djèlí Clark for just a few examples -- but none that I'm kicking myself for not reading this year.

I guess I'd planned to read more horror this year, which I completely failed at.

10) What was your favorite new release of the year?

Looking over my list, it seems that I only read two actual new releases this year: Robert Jackson Bennett's The Tainted Cup and Seth Dickinson's Exordia.

I'd been a fan of Bennett's for a while, particularly of his Divine Cities trilogy, but I thought that 2020's Shorefall was really disappointing. Disappointing enough that it made me give up on the whole trilogy of which it forms the second part. Because of that, I was a little apprehensive about trying this new one. Ended up enjoying it quite a bit though, though I don't think it would quite make my top five for books read this year.

But Exordia pretty much wins this by default, I think. Didn't hit quite as hard as the Masquerade books: there's a lot of military sci-fi/action thriller stuff that I just can't bring myself to care about at all, and I'm not sure it's necessarily an improvement on the original short story it's based on. But I thought Anna and Ssrin and Khaje were great, Dickinson is really good at both writing different types of smart characters and at writing plausible-sounding technobabble and theoretical physics stuff, and the whole book has a wonderful compulsive energy to it which I just don't think anything else I read this year quite matches.

12) Any books that disappointed you?

I really did not enjoy Ruthanna Emrys's A Half-Built Garden at all.

Definitely my least enjoyed book of the year, and -- counting only books I actually finished -- possibly my least favorite work of fiction of the last five years.

Still, I can only really blame myself: I'm pretty underwhelmed by solarpunk as a concept and I haven't enjoyed any previous attempts to give the genre a chance, so I should have known going in that I wasn't going to like this. But unfortunately I read a couple of glowing reviews saying that it wasn't like all those other solarpunk books, so I persuaded myself to give it a try.

And, well, those reviews were right: it isn't like any of the other solarpunk books I've tried. Somehow it manages to be worse.

[we-are-so-close]

Game Night

Serizawa Katsuya x reader Fluff Word Count: 1.5k Author's Note: I've been meaning to write this for ages. I think Serizawa would love to play any type of games with you, especially video games. He's so sweet and I love him dearly. Not edited. Feedback appreciated! Italics indicate texts

“Are we still on for game night?” you texted Serizawa. The two of you had made it a habit of having game night at 5:30 on Fridays. Always at his place, as he had the best setup for any kind of games you wanted to play. He’s never bailed on a game night, but you liked to confirm that he was still interested in it. 

“We’re finishing up a job. Should be done in about 30 minutes! 🙂” he messaged back almost immediately. 

He quickly followed up with, “you can go on in and get the games ready if you’d like 😊”.

A few weeks ago, he had given you a spare key for times like this. He didn’t want to be rude and make you wait in the hallway for him to get home, but he also didn’t want you to have to wait for him to text you, thus delaying game night even longer. You accepted the key graciously and it hung on your keychain with your apartment key and a cat key charm.

The walk from your apartment to his was only about fifteen minutes. You would usually walk there by yourself and Serizawa would walk you back home. You always made him promise to text you when he got back home and he always kept that promise. It was hard to say what your relationship was. You liked him a lot, and you thought you were giving some subtle hints. But with Serizawa, it was hard to read him. He was always so nice and friendly to you, but he was that way with everyone. He always let you choose the game to play, but never really gave any indication if it was what he wanted to play. But then, you thought it didn’t really matter because he always won whatever game you played. 

You stood in front of his door for a solid five minutes before fetching the keys out of your pocket. It was a little nerve-wracking to be going into his place while he wasn’t there. The keys jingled in your hand as you tried to steady it in order to get the key into the lock. First the deadbolt, and then the lock on the doorknob. You slowly walked in and found his place to be in its usual state; cozy and tidy. You sent him a quick message to let him know that you had arrived and he sent a text back a few minutes later. 

“Great! We’re almost done (I think).”

“You can pick whatever game!”

“Maybe practice a little before I get there 😅”

“I’m going to win tonight, Katsuya…you’ll see!”

“😆” was all he responded back. You knew that meant Reigen probably needed his full attention at that moment. 

He had an entire room dedicated to gaming. A big tv with surround sound, a soft couch, a couple of bean bags, and all of the games you could imagine. Sometimes you would play board games and other times you played console games. None of the board games were piquing your interest, so you shuffled through some of the console games. At the bottom of the stack, tucked away ever so slightly, was a game you had never played with Serizawa. This was a game that you were actually quite good at, a game that you have played many times.  This was the game that you knew you were going to play tonight. 

Forty-five minutes later, you heard Serizawa walk through the door. 

“______?” he called out. 

“I’m in the game room!” you called back, currently concentrated on the practice game you were playing. 

“Oh! I thought maybe you had left and were mad at me, you didn’t respond back to my texts,” he chuckled nervously and leaned against the door frame, his expression changing from worried to excited. “I stopped for some snacks, too.” He held up a bag and set it on the table. He sat on the opposite end of the couch as you and watched you play. 

“So, this is the game you want to play then, I take it?”

“Oh yeah! I meant it earlier when I said that I was going to win tonight!”

He chuckled. “I haven’t played Mario Kart in ages,” he said as he cracked his knuckles and rolled up his sleeves. 

You quit the game you were currently in and went back to the home screen so that he could add his controller into the game. You knew that he was excited to play, because he didn’t even bother to change out of his work clothes. It made you smile to yourself. 

“I love Mario Kart! I always play Waluigi. He’s so goofy. I can sound like him, too. Wanna hear?”

Serizawa gave you a soft smile and a nod. 

“WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!” you did your best Waluigi impression. 

Serizawa busted out laughing, his face turning a little red. “That was really good! You sounded just like him! Got any other impersonations?”

“Hm…I can sound like Toad a little bit. But I need to refine that impersonation,” you chuckled. 

“That’s so funny you said Toad. I always play as Toad! He’s a quiet, funky little guy.”

“I would have never pegged you as a Toad guy. You look more like a Shy Guy to me.”

“Nah, Toad is definitely the best!” 

“Well, I guess we’ll see. I’m not leaving tonight until I beat you in one race!” you smiled widely, and Serizawa blushed a little before turning his head toward the TV. 

“Alright, game one. Let’sa go!” He gave his best Mario impression. 

The games were intense. The first few Serizawa won and it wasn’t even close. But you started to pick up your rhythm. You got very excitable during the games and would stand up, sit down, jump back up, sit back down. You had your controller every which way, while Serizawa remained calm and in the same position the entire time.

Hours passed and you were always so close to beating him, but he always had something up his sleeve. A blue shell, a banana peel, a bomb, something that would always hinder you from crossing the finish line first. And, everytime, you would plop back down onto the couch in defeat, stating that you’ll get him the next game.  Eventually, the two of you had found your way to the middle of the couch. You were both shoulder to shoulder as this last race was getting close to finishing. You were neck and neck, but this time he didn’t have any extras to bombard you with. You were pulling out ahead and you could see the finish line in the frame. The excitement in you was bubbling. And then, out of nowhere, your controller went flying out of your hands and floated in the air above you. Waluigi ran into the wall and Toad raced right past him to cross the finish line first. 

“Katsu! You…you cheated!” you accused, your face scrunched in dismay. The controller dropped back down into your lap gently. 

“I..well..,” the guilt showed all over his face as he set his controller down, “you said that you weren’t going to leave until you beat me. And well,” he rubbed the back of his neck,”I’ve been having a lot of fun and I don’t want you to leave just yet.”

The anger in your chest slowly dissipated and was replaced with a sense of fondness. “You could’ve let me win still and asked me to stay anyway, Katsuya,” you bumped your shoulder into his. 

“I…yes, I suppose I could have. I’m sorry. I just really want you to stay. I always have a lot of fun with you, and I thought maybe we could extend our game nights into game weekends,” he said as he fidgeted with his hands. 

You gently placed your hand onto his. “I’d like that a lot, Katsu.” You leaned up and kissed his cheek. He brought one of his hands up to where you’d placed the kiss and he began to turn a bright red. 

“Just two requests, though,” you said sternly. “No more using your powers for cheating.”

He nodded, “Done and done. What’s the other request?”

“Don’t go easy on me, alright?”

He smiled fiercely, “Are you sure about that?” 

“Absolutely.”

“I can fulfill both of those requests. But, I have a request for you as well.”

“Oh,” you quirked your eyebrow at him. 

“Mhmm. I would like to walk you to your apartment so you can get some things you’d need to stay over. And then we can continue this Mario Kart smackdown!”

You agreed with his request. The two of you held hands all the way to your place and all the way back to his. He even carried your bag for you. You didn’t win a single race that night. But it didn’t matter to you. In your eyes, being able to spend more time with Serizawa was the ultimate win for a game night.

[schismusic]

Y'all need Jesu

(in which I kick myself in the ass for not listening to Justin Broadrick's other band earlier)

Anyone who's ever read anything that I've ever done on this blog since reactivating would know I am mildly obsessed with Godflesh. So it would only follow rationally that I would enjoy other JKB and GCG projects – which is true, to an extent. For example, I do love Techno Animal/Zonal, for what I've heard, and I am listening to Vitriol's I-VII as writing music as we speak (it's pretty cool!). Surprisingly enough however, I did not go into Jesu – for all intents and purposes, the only project that presented itself as Godflesh's "sequel", so to speak. I guess a lot of this has to do with a vague, but genuine, distaste for post-metal on my part. A friend of mine was very into it back in the day, I tried some due to peer pressure – and also due to the fact that this guy is a very close friend of mine – then promptly opted off, to a point where I haven't even listened to any Isis, either. Until one night a couple of weeks ago I stumble upon Jesu's Bandcamp page, coming across their original self-titled, and I'm like you know what – I need something that's like Godflesh enough, but a bit off-center. So of course I put it on and within like a minute, I knew I had to atone for my sins and write this post.

I think I may have, at one point, heard Tired of Me in the past – wouldn't be able to tell you where, or when – because the vocal melody is familiar enough to me. But I did not remember it hitting this hard. Possibly that has to do with my emotional state at this point in time, or with autumn drawing closer and closer, or potentially both even. Another facet that I think might have helped the record's case right now, more pointedly, is the fact that a lot of this sounds a lot like some of the more pensive moments off of Selfless – the one Godflesh record I've spent the most time with over the years. It's also the first Godflesh record I ever show anyone who's interested in them (and also anyone who's not interested in them, because frankly I love Godflesh more than my social life), it's the one I keep in the car stereo most of the time (the other one on heavy rotation would be the self-titled EP), and it has my favourite lonesome-drive-at-2am tracks ever. JKB's songwriting always does a lot with very little, but the first Jesu record might be the point in his recorded work when it became most evident.

All of these enormous emotions, those very same big emotions I talked about in my first Godflesh post, all show up here, intelligible, tangible, free of all of Godflesh's defensive rage for the first time. Not that they can't get aggressive at times: on Man/Woman, JKB busts out his signature brutal screaming, which – combined with none other than Paul Neville as guest guitarist – harkens back to the thornier, more heartbroken moments in Pure. But the key takeaway from the record is that the heaviness is always accompanied or, maybe even, second to this wistful sense of melody. How else would one explain the use on pitch correction, wherein JKB's few melodic vocal lines over the past remained very naked and fluttery in pitch? Not that I'm complaining here, mind you: if you catch me on a bad day, I'm very likely to say that autotune is the greatest invention in the history of contemporary music alongside the solid-body electric guitar and the kick on the Roland TR-808. JKB's rediscovery of melody, if we want to call it that, makes for some of the most touching moments in his works. And I do mean openly touching, not even necessarily in a cathartic way – again, not too far off from some of the more dilated and forlorn moments in Selfless, which actually includes the last third of Go Spread Your Wings (linked here directly to the relevant timestamp, but you should go listen to the whole thing at some point) or maybe even the Black Boned Angel verses, as well as Mantra and Empyreal. A track like, for instance, Friends Are Evil perfectly encapsulates both souls of the record. While the instrumental starts off foreboding the same unbound aggression as Godflesh, to a point where the intro riff could be mistaken from that of Jesu (the final track off of Hymns), all of a sudden the following section opens up into something that moves out of machine-like territory and lands somewhere very close to, say, a maximalist version of Codeine. As much of a paradox as that may seem.

Sure, in total frankness the second half kinda loses a bit of steam for me personally. The riffs remain very well written and powerful on their own, don't get me wrong; I just sort of think they're stretched for far longer than what goes on in the first half and, plain and simple, they just don't really tickle my fancy. Like I said, a notable exception to this would be the aforementioned, absolutely incredible Man/Woman, and it also has to be noted that these last tracks become more enjoyable over repeated listens, once you start delving into the massive-sounding yet austere arrangements. Guardian Angel, in particular, has a sobering effect coming at the end of this full hour of music: signature Jesu major key jam, incredibly pensive and autumn-like, a tale of people running away from you – and of running away from yourself. A dispossession. It should be noted that this record was apparently made in the wake of Godflesh's impromptu disbandment, and the short lyrical stint – typically JKB-fashioned in its directness and precision and economy of words: in Italian, we'd call his style "icastico" – quickly gives way to a long, resounding coda of delay, feedback, a sense of surprising despair. Not unlike some of the long, CD-exclusive tracks in Godflesh's early discography: your Streetcleaner 2s, your Pure 2s, your Go Spread Your Wingses (sorry for that unreadable mess). And therein lies Godflesh. Open emotion, the horror of emptiness, the sense of profound distance between veryone and everything. It would once again come to wear different, heavier clothes. But those who know where to look will find it everytime and cherish it like it deserves.

P.S.: in re-reading this post I'm just now noticing I made no mention of We All Faulter. Unforgivable: We All Faulter is my absolute highlight from the record. Go listen to it: