#information of the nate

[etherealily]

ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴏʟᴅᴇɴ // ​ɴ.ᴊ [2]

My other Nate fics. If you have the time.

Hi everyone! Hope you're fine. If not, enjoy being better than Nate (you always were, but this is just confirmation)!

This is part two of a two-part fic. [Queued + not proofread]

[Part 1 here.]

Nate Jacobs x fem!reader. SFW, but discretion advised. Masochism(?), violence, delusion.

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc. : He's in way over his head.

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The shadows of cars passing by his window infuriated him. The sound of McKay's breathing on the ground below him set his teeth on edge. The thought of you getting felt up by some hot rich actor guy made him want to end it all.

"Chris."

A hum.

"McKay."

"Kill yourself, Jacobs.", he whined, turning away from the bed and burying his face in the pillow he'd laid for himself on the ground. Hangovers suck ass.

"I'm going to that fucking party, dude."

"What party?", he groaned, petulantly, eyes still squeezed shut, but he sat up to humour him.

"The one at The Golden."

"Why?"

"Why do you think?"

"Y/N? For real, man?"

"We know each other. She'll let me in."

"Oh, after a thirty second interaction you're homies? Chill, man."

"You know Maddy's babysitting job? Well, they hosted some party. And Maddy met Y/N. And now they're, like tight."

"Nah, you're bullshittin'."

"We went to Y/N's birthday."

McKay scoffed, muttering 'cap' under his breath as he reached in the dark for his phone, looking up your name followed by 'birthday'.

Nate rolled his eyes, getting down onto the floor to scroll past all the meaningless rich twinks to find himself and Maddy. "There."

McKay's eyes widened and he laughed in shock. "No fucking way! You could've introduced me, FUCK. She wanted me bad, too."

"You think she wanted you?'

"Fuck yeah, man, you saw how she was look- CHRIST, man, you'd have been invited to our wedding. Our billion dollar wedding."

Nate laughed, smacking McKay's arm a little too hard for it to be joking. "Not if she's out there gettin' felt up by, like, Justin-what's-his-face."

"So you think I have a shot?" Whatever got this guy out of bed and up with him.

"Yeah, man. You might dick her down tonight, if we're fast enough."

McKay leaped up. "What's in it for you, though?", he questioned, as he put on a shirt.

"She's one of Maddy's girlfriends. If she gets roofied, Maddy's gonna kill me."

Lies rolled so easily off his tongue that he had to genuinely wonder when the lessons he learnt in elementary school had eroded away to the back of his conscience.

That seemed acceptable enough for McKay.

Good. Because now he was gonna have to deal with Ray, and he couldn't do that shit alone.

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"Man, I don't even know how long it's been seein' you, dawg!"

What the fuck? What the FUCK? McKay and Ray were homies?

"Nate, man, this is my uncle, bro!"

OH. OH FUCK, YEAH!

The hug between the two lasted a little longer and then McKay turned to Ray again. "We can go in, yeah, Uncle Ray? C'mon. Y'ain't gonna ID us, are you?"

"Not you, son, but I can't let him in."

"Why not?"

"He's been banned from the club."

McKay frowned, licking his lips as he looked between Nate and Ray. Fuck. "Nah, nah, you're trippin', Uncle R. Ain't no way. He's, like, nobody, he's never even been here before."

A silent conversation happened between Ray and Nate, one spoken through their eyes, and then Ray huffed. "If anyone asks, you snuck in.", he said, unclasping the barrier so they could walk in. Clearly guilt was a useful blackmail tool.

Nate immediately found you. McKay was still searching.

"Hey, during the party, she spent a lot of time in the bathrooms with her girlfriends, man, maybe you should check there."

McKay shrugged, nodding. "Let me know if you find her here, though, alright?", he asked, patting him on the back before weaving through the crowd towards the bathrooms, aka, the opposite side of the club to where you were.

Was it a dick move? Yeah.

But did he give a shit? No.

He shouldered through the hordes of whores, trying to keep his eyes on you. And before long, he was standing in front of you.

"How the hell did you get in here?"

"Do you wanna fuck McKay?"

"Who the fuck's McKay?"

"McKay. Don't fuck with me, you know him."

"No, dude, who the fuck's McKay?"

"The guy with me in the car tonight, he's my homie, and I don't want him to get his heart broken!"

"Dude- he hasn't even asked me out yet! I'm not breaking his fuckin' heart! Chill, man! It's like you have a fucking vendetta against me, and I don't think that's righ--"

He didn't know why he thought kissing you would smooth your temper over. Okay, no, that was a lie. He knew. He definitely knew. He often used that trick with Maddy to calm her down, but he hadn't remembered that you weren't a girlfriend, and you were entirely well within your rights to-

Yup. You slapped him.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!"

"Sorry, Jesus, I'm sorry, I'm still a bit tipsy!"

"Who the fuck even let you in? And aren't you with Maddy?"

That he wanted to answer. "NO! No, I'm not! Because someone convinced her I was 'toxic' and 'abusive'!"

"What? Who?"

"YOU!"

"I didn't say that shit! I don't know half of your guys' story, dude!"

He paused. "Bullshit."

"You think Maddy tells me all that shit? I didn't even know you guys were together until my party!"

"So, you weren't out to break us up?"

You scoffed, sipping on your vodka spritz as you glared up at him. "For what purpose?"

"I dunno, you hated me."

"I didn't hate you. I was pissed at you. There's a difference."

His eyes darted around the room for a moment before they landed back on yours. "Sorry. I… sorry."

Ew, ew, ew. He hated saying that shit.

"What the fuck are you even doing back here? Shouldn't you be at home? 'S a school night!"

"I'm in some trouble!", he yelled over the sound of the bass dropping. "I got mugged!"

No, seriously. His elementary school teacher who diligently wrote 'honesty is the best policy' on the board every morning would have an aneurysm.

"You WHAT?!"

He turned out his pockets. "No wallet, no keys, no nothing!"

"Why'd you even come back out?! Did you call the police?"

"Yeah, my buddy McKay did! They're tracking my phone but I need somewhere to crash!"

"What about where I dropped you off? Maddy's?"

Those options would be good if he was actually in that situation. He decided to ignore them.

"Your place?" His alibi was not airtight, but he knew you were too pissed to actually put two and two together right now.

"My place is in New York!"

"What? Where was your party, then?!", he shouted, watching you sip your drink.

"That's my parents' place. Y'know, the one whose floor you covered in champagne and glass?"

"Sorry about that."

You ignored him, instead huffing and taking out your phone.

"Call Henry Donovan.", you instructed, and the sound of ringing emerged.

"Hey, what's up, gorgeous?"

"I'm at The Golden, but a friend needs help, so I gotta cancel, we should reschedule!"

"You got it."

The call ended and Nate's jaw dropped. "You're fucking Henry Donovan?"

"Shut up."

"You're not denying it."

"I'm not confirming it either."

"Schrodinger's dick, then."

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Nate lost sleep that entire night.

He almost lost his mind when he heard echoes of what sounded like plates sliding over each other. Sitting up, he squinted his eyes.

"Did I wake you?", you asked, looking up from your phone.

"No."

"You want pizza?"

Your hand gripped a wine bottle, of which, like, half had been drunk already.

Fuck. He had to be extra careful. He'd never seen you drunk, and he didn't know if you'd be more mellow or more volatile. With his luck, it was the latter.

"It's three in the morning.", he scoffed, removing the blanket before standing up to join you at the island - the fucking beautiful kitchen island - while rubbing his face. "Yes."

You slid the plate of pizza over to him.

"So, how come Mr. Donovan didn't spend the night giving you mediocre sex and LV gifts?"

You snickered, incredulously. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, what?"

"What?", he asked, defensively.

"You've got some incredible stereotypes attributed to me, y'know that?"

"C'mon, you're denying it? Okay, listen, you're a total smokeshow, you know that, but the problem with that is that you get cocky about it."

"Do I?"

"Mhm. Like right now. You didn't deny the fact that you're a smokeshow. You're not even pretending to be humble."

"Should I have?"

He frowned, eyes dancing around the room for a second. "No. Would've been obvious."

Silence, a painful one.

"Dude, this is so weird.", you laughed, shaking your head and rubbing your hands over your face. "You're the last person I'd have ever let into my house." He opened his mouth to retort, so you quickly added, "For a second time."

"Okay, but… I mean." he began, swallowing before continuing, "Henry Donovan, really? Look at him, Jesus.'

"Exactly. Jesus."

Uh, no. That's not what you're supposed to be saying. "No, I mean, he's hot and all, but you were right. He's just a dick and abs. What else does he got?"

You frowned, plucking a tomato off and tossing it to the side of the pizza box. "What else do you got?"

"A personality, for one thing? Balls, for the other. Face it, the guy's a dork trapped in a frat boy body, blessed with Daddy's money and Mommy's estate."

"Why do you know so much about him?"

Why did he know so much about him? He wanted to say Maddy, that would make it better, but he knew that if he did, well, you'd definitely catch onto the lie. So he decided bending the truth would be better.

"I looked him up. For some research project for Econ, I had to go through his family's financial history." First part : true. Second part : false, but no regrets.

"Oh. What kinda weird ass Econ proj-"

He waved you off. "My teacher's a psycho. Uh, so, what movie are you shooting in Scotland?"

"We're trying to keep it under wraps, so I'm obligated to not tell you."

"That's no fun. C'mon, okay, wait, at least gimme a hint."

You licked your lips, narrowing your eyes for a moment before letting them dance around the room. "Your best friend, Mr. Donovan will be in it.'

Jesus Christ. He scoffed, leaning his forearms on the counter next to you. "And you thought that was a good investment? He can't act for shit."

"He did well in-"

"Those were all sappy romance movies where the character just had to be hot enough to impress lonely, middle aged women. But isn't this movie a serious one?"

You shrugged, popping open a coke as you sat up on the counter, looking down at him, "Yeah, but he's the popular thing this season. So he'll sell."

"What about the art, though?"

"The art?"

"You're directing this one, too, right? So, what about your artistic vision?"

You stayed silent for a while, and Nate decided that was the perfect opportunity to swoop in with the final blow. "His bad acting will fuck the entire thing up."

"You really think so?"

"This is his, what, third movie? And the first two were bought by Daddy's connections. He didn't exactly get in on his acting chops."

Yes, he was talking him down when he had never seen a single one of his movies, but no, he didn't even feel the slightest bit guilty about it, because honestly, FUCK HENRY DONOVAN.

"It's too late, though. There's no way I can just kick him off the project now."

"Then minimize his role."

The corners of your lips turned downwards. You were considering it. "Are you sure he's that shitty at acting? I mean, I've seen his movies, he isn't that-"

He nodded. "Totally."

You bit the inside of your cheek as you listened to him.

He decided moving closer wouldn't really hurt, yeah? So he did. And you glared at him so hard, he felt like it was the first time he'd ever seen you all over again. An angel staring at dirt under her gaze.

And he fucking loved it. He loved being nothing. Because him being nothing to you was so unnecessarily sexy to him, he almost got a semi because of it.

"What did you mean when you said The Golden wasn't my world?"

You frowned, looking down at him as he sat on the chair with his forearms just barely brushing the side of your knee. "You really need that one analyzed?"

"It doesn't make sense. I fit right in there."

"Nate, if you fit in, you'd have been let in, instead of having to sneak in."

"Okay, so I'm not, like, uber-rich. So what? Most people aren't. But I'm well off. My family owns half of East Highland. Past Kemper, all the apartments are mine."

"Mine owns half the city." As cold and badass of a line that might have been, it was evident to him that that was meant to be gentle, and lacking in conceit.

He sighed. "So if I had money, that would be fine? I could get into The Golden?"

"No. Y- no. It's not just money. Duncan Martin? The little stocky brunette? He's got no money, but it's… his family used to have money, so he-"

"You realize how fucking elitist you sound right now, right?"

You huffed, running your hands through your hair in frustration. "I know, trust me, but it's-"

"It's fucking discriminatory."

"Look! You can't just come to a club for celebrities and ask why they only let in celebrities! It's STUPID! Like, asking why a high school doesn't let in toddlers! It just doesn't make sense! High schoolers should be in high school, toddlers should be in preschool, celebrities should be in The Golden, and you-"

"Should be with the rest of the normie peasants. Right?"

"It's not- I'm not the enemy, Jacobs. Okay? It's just how it is. It's not an attack on you." That was the only thing you'd said the entire night that made even an iota of sense.

Okay. Acceptable.

A while later, he's back with the bullshit. "So. Henry Donovan. You're fucking?"

"What is your problem?"

"He's just not… I dunno. Doesn't seem your type."

You scoffed. "And how would you know my type?"

"I can tell.", he replied, holding your jaw and moving your head from side to side, laughing as you slapped his hand away. "I'm guessing you're not into gays."

"He's not gay!"

"Denial, Madam Celebrity, isn't just a river in Egypt, y'know?", he stated, in an accent he wished he could take back immediately.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes and he tilted his head, looking up at you.

He moved even closer, shaking his head. "Trust me. I'm a guy. We've got a radar for this thing. Look, if you put me and him in a room, you'll see I have higher levels of both talent and heterosexuality in my little finger than he has in his whole twink body."

You snickered. "You're a dick."

"And he likes dick."

"Hey, I got kind of a gay vibe from you, too."

His smile dropped momentarily. "What?"

"I dunno, like, I thought you were, at the very least, like, bi. How would you like it if I said denial isn't a river in Egypt to that?"

"I'm not.'

You narrowed your eyes, and he almost scoffed. "I'm talented."

"And gay people aren't talented?"

"They are, but I'm talented in manly shit. Shit that requires testosterone."

"In what, football?"

"Yeah, you should come to our game."

'Hm?"

"This Saturday. Show up."

"I'll try."

He smiled, genuinely, and you almost felt guilty.

You didn't have the heart to tell him that the only reason you'd be there is because the fucking tabloid rumours hadn't actually been put to rest.

People thought you were dating, and you were, like, 100% sure you'd have to have pictures of you guys together just to get people to stop saying you fucked him and then had him beat up.

You had to fake date someone who didn't even know about it.

Which is why, later that night, you texted his ex, asking both permission and advice.

Because if anyone knows how to manipulate, it's Maddy Perez.

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It did not bode well for Nate's mental health that he saw you there in the stands the day he fucked up.

God wasn't real. The universe was fucking with him. And the worst part? McKay had come to watch, too , last game of the season and shit, and he was sitting next to you.

Maybe that's why he fucked up.

Sitting in your hoodie and stupid huge sunglasses. He could kiss you and hit you at the same time. You just had to show up when he fucked up?

"Hey, man, look, I think you did fine, you just gotta--"

"Oh, fuck off, McKay, seriously."

"Hey, no, he's right. I'm pretty sure what that ginger kid over there did was a foul."

No, it wasn't. Nate was just weak. "Yeah, probably."

"'Least you still won. There's an afterparty, right?", you asked.

Thankfully, though, the universe came through in the form of getting you absolutely shitfaced.

"Remind me why you and Maddy used to be friends again?", he asked, watching you adjust the stereo.

"Used to be? We're still-"

"Not anymore.", he muttered, before his hand grabbed your throat to pull you closer to him as he kissed you for the, what, third time in his life? - more than he ever thought would be possible.

For some reason, though, you didn't immediately hit him over the head with the pizza box or knee him in the crotch.

For some reason (alcohol, but Nate liked to think you could handle your liquor, at least for his own conscience), you kissed back.

Good. Fuck Maddy, Fuck McKay, and, honestly, fuck Nate from a month ago. All losers.

He was just about ready to unbutton your shirt, but something told him to wait. And thank fuck he did, because you pulled away almost instantaneously. "Shit."

"What? What?"

"We're so drunk."

We, you'd said. You, for some reason, had thought he was drinking with you. Alright. That's fine. You can think that.

"Agreed."

This was odd, to say the least. He'd never acted drunk before. He'd acted sober, yeah. But drunk was a whole weird thing.

But then again, you weren't exactly just another hookup. You were a celebrity. A star. He'd attained the unattainable.

Anything for you.

So he counted himself lucky to be able to lie next to you and intertwine his fingers with yours after the fact.

"You still going out with Henry?"

You nodded, watching him press kisses to your knuckles.

"You still going with him for the lead of your movie?"

"Mm? Yeah, I mean, it's short notice and he isn't that bad."

He snorted softly, his lips now at your wrist and moving up your forearm. "You've seen much better actors, admit it."

"Yeah, but I can't really--"

He tsked. "Come on. I'm not sure you should alter the role to fit the actor. It's supposed to be the other way around."

"Yeah, but Nate, I really think it's going to rub people the wrong way.", you muttered.

"Fine, cast him. See if I care."

You fell asleep on his arm and he almost kissed your forehead.

Almost.

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Regret was the last thing he felt.

Who'd regret anything when in between the legs of an angel?

Of course, he couldn't expect the angel herself to understand this.

So, like a good little sycophant, he dodged everything you threw at him in the aftermath.

"You're a FUCKING predator!", you accused. He dodged the book. Okay, mildly, but-

"YOU FUCKING USED ME AS A REBOUND!" He dodged his wallet. No, but Maddy being pissed was a bonus.

"Get the fuck outta my sight, you-"

"Hey, hey, the sex was good and you know it."

"SO?! I WAS DRUNK AND YOU WERE NOT!"

"Okay, I'd say tipsy."

"You think you're getting off on a technicality?!"

He thought reminding you that he spent hours on his knees in front of you and hence, never actually 'got off' would result in him as a chalk outline.

"Look, there's something there."

You did something to him when you scoffed again this time.

Because he was suddenly under your dirt gaze again, but instead of Ray, it was you beating him up and looking down at him, you being the reason his insides were churning, you wanting him so badly, inside and out, that you couldn't help but spill his blood, just to sneak a glimpse.

You wanted him just as bad. And he could finally tell. You were mad because you liked it.

"Between us?", you asked, snorting as if you didn't feel it, too. He almost grinned at your denial. Cute. "We fucked once, and I was drunk!"

"And instead of drunkenly calling me names, you fucked me."

"Oh, my god, get out, you delusional… fuckass!"

"This is McKay's house."

You scoffed, snatching your clothes from his bedside and stepping over all the passed out kids outside his room.

Huh. Huh. He'd just fucked you. The celebrity.

He'd won the fucking bet.

But still. You'd be back.

They always came back.

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You almost laughed as you slammed your car door. Please. Like he was anything more than a deluded dick your friend had dated.

In fact, it was Maddy who told you to try to get the rumours to rest.

"He doesn't give a shit about anyone, why should you care? At least save your career. Come to the game. I'll get press there, too."

And then the press came as far as they were allowed outside his house party.

To his window.

To your back as he kissed you against it.

To your departure the next morning, face filled with rage so that they could capture it.

And 100%, he'd be named the bad guy because the world loved you.

Of course they did, you've never done anything wrong. Ever.

Except this.

But it was his fault.

You'd warned him.

The Golden isn't his world, and you try to overstep your bounds, this is what happens.

You get burned.

[empressofthewind]

I have so many issues with the second half of the DN anime, but one change I DO like is that in the dub of Episode 30 (the equivalent of Chapter 77) when Mello gives Near information, he specifically says "that's all I can tell you for now", vs in the manga where he just says "that's all the information I can give you". It's a small detail, but it's a change that makes a lot of sense given Mello's position at this point in the story. Going by the official manga timeline, Mello loses all his allies on the 11th of November, and doesn't contact Matt until two days after the SPK raid on November 27th (see: volume 13, pages 104-106). This gives him a window of about 16 days during which he doesn't have anyone but the SPK to rely on, and thus as far as he knows, there's a good chance that he will need to contact Near again to further his own investigation. He can't just work with Near directly though, because that contradicts everything he stands for, so he keeps some of his information to himself for bargaining power later on, and leaves the door open by hinting at it as he leaves Near's HQ.

[marshroom580]

sorry, thinking about split second and deadpool vs x-force again and how both of those series recontextualized cablepool's canon relationship to be even more unbelievably intimate

[eway]

PUYO PUYO CROSSED OVER WITH YO-KAI WATCH!?

[three-headed-monster]

[toxickimi]

Nora: Curie said the victims body showed clear signs of Belladonna Hancock and Nate: The Pornstar!? Nora: … Nora (long suffering sigh): The poison

[delucadarlingwriting]

Vampire Divorce Court - Nicotine is Not a Substitute for a Balanced Diet

I meant to post this last night and blanked. Now I'm furiously trying to push it out before I got to a CPR course that might ACTUALLY be legitimate this time!!!!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Word Count: 1,290

Book 1, Outside the detective’s apartment, Late night

It doesn’t matter how many cigarettes Barbie smokes, she never manages to kill the hunger gnawing at her insides. It’s both curse and miracle that the very thought of blood makes her too faint to act on any of the base impulses that consume her when it’s been too long since she last fed.

Even if it doesn’t stop her hunger, it does dull the burning need of it enough to help her think clearly. She takes her next drag slow, not wanting to rush through it. Nat had informed her that all of Unit Bravo was staying in Detective Kingston’s apartment as part of her protection. Nothing had been arranged for Barbie prior to her arrival. No one explicitly told her to stay out, but no one really has to either.

The detective is a bright young woman, clearly far too young to be in the sort of position she is now, but rising to the challenge well. She seems more resolved to stop Murphy than she is terrified of him at least. The little they managed to talk casually between discussing the case, Barbie had found Detective Kingston to be interesting, sweet, and determined. Spending more time with her would be a treat. Looking up, Barbie sees the detective moving around inside the apartment, the lights going out one by one. Sticking around to socialize wouldn’t do Barbie much good when she’ll. just be sleeping anyway.

Barbie had considered going back to the facility during her down time, but it’s far enough away to be untenable. If any developments happen, she wants to be close by to know about it.

Besides, night time gives her a special sort of clarity, as well as the excuse to work alone. As soon as she finishes her smoke, she’s going to go back to the various locations Kira had taken her to today to take more notes. Having the eyes of Unit Bravo on her, even at a distance, kept throwing her off the first time. She needs to be able to observe things unburdened.

Speaking of burdens, the hairs on the back of her neck raise, and she turns to see Commanding Agent Adam du Mortain staring at her. He looks exactly the same as he did the last time she spoke to him, right down to the pucker between his eyebrows and the frown carved into his face.

“What?” she asks, exhausted already. Adam steps closer, bulky, strong, and wearing his vampirism with a kind of confidence that Barbie suspects she never will.

“What you did today was foolish and will not happen again,” he barks. Barbie scoffs.

“What could I possibly have done to already set you off?” Barbie asks, flicking ash off the end of her cigarette. Adam steps closer, far too in her space in fact, so that she can smell him and hear his rushing pulse. Oh, he’s actually angry. Barbie takes a long drag off her cigarette.

“When is the last time you fed?” Adam demands.

Ah. Of course. Barbie resists blowing smoke in his face, turning her head instead.

“Recently enough that this will do the job to curb my hunger,” she says. Adam step close enough that she staggers back to avoid even the possibility of him touching her.

“That is not good enough. You cannot be alone with the detective when you’re on the verge of falling into blood lust.” He looks her over, each part of her that his gaze touches burning. She recoils away, further into the shadows even if it won’t stop him from seeing her.

“It’s been good enough so far,” Barbie snaps. “I wouldn’t be here if I thought or anyone at the Agency thought I couldn’t control myself. My appearance alone should make that clear.”

She isn’t trying to hide the bitterness in her tone, but she doubts she would have been able to even if she was. While she knows her mind is her greatest asset, she’s always valued her appearance as well. Her good looks have faded just as certainly as her humanity though, leaving her a dry, hollow husk of a person. She has to put lipstick and foundation on before going anywhere outside the Agency unless she wants people to stop her and offer to call an ambulance based on her pallor alone.

Adam looks gobsmacked, which would be satisfying in any other circumstance.

“You’re always like this?” he asks, gesturing to her.

“That should not surprise you in the least,” Barbie replies, pulling her coat more securely around herself, turning to look out at the gorgeous night sky. Stars are lovely and quiet.

It takes several moments, but Adam does eventually find a response. He chooses to give it in a tone that holds no anger, but Barbie doesn’t love the pity any more.

“You’ll have to move past this at some point,” he says, not for the first time. Barbie gives a hollow laugh.

“Well, seeing as I now have all the time in the world to do so, I’ll be doing it at my own pace,” she says sharply. Adam shakes his head.

“You’ll find this existence unbearably long until you make peace with it,” he says, then turns and marches away.

Each step echoes in her skull. She presses the heel of her palm against her forehead, closing her eyes. Why did she ever agree to come here? Sure, her supervisors had all heavily encouraged her to come, but she could have begged off. If she had, she would be back in the Marseilles facility, deep in the archives, working away on her latest project. Instead she’s far from home and surrounded by horrible reminders of a time she’d rather forget.

Well, she had given up on truly forgetting a long time ago. It’s her own fault that she has to remember any of this at all.

Heavy footsteps approach once more, and as frayed and hungry as she is, Barbie turns and snaps, “Oh for fucks’ sake, Adam, what now?”

Only it isn’t Adam standing in front of her. It’s Mason.

Her heart strangles in her throat, her every muscle seizing up. She hasn’t seen him in…so long. He looks the same. His hair is a little longer, his eyes a little more tired, but he even has the same jacket still. She drinks him in like he’s the only way to slake her thirst.

But then he starts looking at her too.

Panic flooding her, Barbie jerks herself around and shouts, “Don’t!”

There’s a beat, and then she hears her ex-husband’s voice for the first time in almost 50 years.

“Don’t what, Barbara?” Mason asks, a tremor in his voice. “What the fuck could you possibly accuse me of now?”

She shakes her head and says, “Don’t look at me.”

Another beat. Bewildered, Mason asks, “Why the fuck not?”

No words are forthcoming, there are too many reasons. She doesn’t want to ruin his mental image of her. She wants him to see her human, healthy, beautiful. She doesn’t want him to remember what it was like when she left. She doesn’t want to look in his eyes and see hurt or anger or disgust.

He scoffs. “Wow. Fucking fine.”

He leaves. The side door of the apartment building slams so hard she jumps.

Holding back tears, Barbie throws her cigarette down and crushes it with the toe of her high heel. She lets out a shaking breath and walks away, heading to where her car is still parked outside the police station. Of all the scenarios she’s imagined of her and Mason reuniting, this isn’t at all what she expected.

It wasn’t nearly as bad.

Next

[dino-boyo-agere]

THAT SNAIL WAS SO COOLIO!!! I HAVE NEVER SEEN SNAIL SO BIG

~kittato

Ikr?!

They're super common where I live! We call them "Weinbergschnecken" here in Germany but their scientific name is "Helix pomatia". Other common names are: The Roman snail, Burgundy snail, or escargot

They are an edible species of snails and they are a relic remainder of the Romans bringing them over to Europe for consumption, and possibly to use their slime in holistic medicine, aswell as anti-aging remedies. And now, almost 2000 years later, they thrive not just in northern Germany, but also in the UK, western Belarus and the Baltic states, the south of Finland, Sweden, Norway, Denmark, and in the Benelux!!

The snail in question, for anyone who missed the post about it:

.��｡.･.*.ﾟ☆❗only interact if your blog is SFW❗☆ ﾟ.*.･. ｡ﾟ.

[empressofthewind]

i find it super interesting how, when Near's team is questioning Mello's statement about Shinigami existing, Mello doesn't say anything about it. he doesn't react, he doesn't try to argue or further convince Near - he just stares at Near, waiting for him to comment, and then carries on talking after Near announces that he believes him. like he knows that Near is going to trust him first and foremost, no matter what Rester and Gevanni say, and he's just waiting for Near to explain his reasoning so they can move on.

[somestorythoughts]

You know now that I think about it (and have rewatched some of the original leverage) the weird part about the writer-insurance guy saying that Nate Ford was always there with a pep talk isn't like, the pep talk part of it.

Nate can do pep talks. Sometimes the pep talk is him shouting "YOU CAN DO THIS" at Hardison to get him to land the plane, and it's not like he does them a lot but like, he has pep talked. And I could see that maybe while he was IYS and in a better headspace, he might have done those more often.

It's the idea that he was known for it that's a little harder.

[greasydumbfuck]

funny how im more invested in the spiderverses of my two friends than my own. anyway. gods most detested son

[until-the-brahmin-come-home]

When they first meet, Nate takes one look at Deacon, says “Fellow redhead,” and then never elaborates on how he knows this information.

[vibinginthedreamlands]

Nooooo, Nate, don't keep reading. Don't listen to John. I love John, but I also have genre awareness and know he's, in the long run, going be evil. Don't you see Nate, John served the role of the trustworthy outsider, the man unaware and blissfully unaffected by the curses and horrors. He gave stability and represented common sense in a way that was confident and comforting, while also being, due to his true role, underhandedly degrading. "Nate, that couldn't happen." "Nate, do you need to seek help?" "Nate, when's the last time you got out of the house?"

Which normally could all be reassurances or healthy check ins, but coming from someone who has Eldritch knowledge about the fact that those things *do* happen, that Nate has a history with his mental health and the underlying fear that John is feeding with the implications that he is losing his mind, and the fact that he *can't* leave his house makes all of John's words gaslighting. He's saying, 'see it's not so hard. Just be normal. Is it even real? I'm not affected, why are you?' and leaving Nate to doubt *himself* instead of ever scrutinizing John's whole role.

Which has now switched by the way. No longer is he the trustworthy outsider. Because Jim is gone.

Jim served the part of the the only other man who knew what was happening. Jim was the one other player who could look Nate in the eyes and not just say yes something is happening, but also yes something is happening and it got me too. It used her against me too. It played me, and it tricked me, and it manipulated me, and I don't know what's happening either. And while Jim and Nate never got along (good to estrange the two people who might actually be able to help each other out through the use of shared experiences), Jim was still proof that what was happening was real and it was bad. If he'd stayed maybe they could have learned to coexist. Maybe they could have helped each other. Maybe Jim's approach to the situation, doing the bare minimum of what he had to to get what he wanted and hightailing it as far away as possible could have rubbed off on Nate. Which would be bad. Because "Steve" wants Nate to keep reading. John is now saying to keep reading. *Nate* is convincing himself to keep reading. So it's fortuitous (or menacing) that Jim is gone now and won't be filling his head with schemes of freedom.

Now John can fill his role (and Steve's). The Cohort. John knows about the horrors now. He can be the confidant, the believer, the partner while still being collected and confident and comforting in the face of it. This only adds to his already held position of the only reliable source of information. His dedication to Nate's cause in the face of actually 'comprehending' the monsters will motivate Nate to push on, to pay back his effort by continuing to read. Which we all know can only lead to good things/s

[jessaerys]

the utter glee that i experienced seeing you RB the 3-sentence fic prompt post,,, okay let me see. let me. think. HMM. i think-- mellonear road trip? <3

out here boys that look like that end up smiling pretty on milk cartons.

mello groans.

drives the last quarter mile in reverse.

glares over the golden rim of his aviators. "where you goin'?"

little mister obscene schoolboy fantasy cracks a smirk, all starched crest blazer and ruddy cheeks and lanky scraped knees that fold awkwardly against the glove/gun compartment. he makes mello's dead mom's shitpiece deathtrap of a car feel like god's laughing at him, not with him.

"wherever you're going."

the kid wipes the blood off his pristine sneaker on the door. mello scoffs, but he floors it.

(3 sentence 100 word fic ask game)

[bardicwine]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤi wouldve waited to touch on sandra until it was like, valentines day, but then i remembered how impatient i am. so, here you go: information on paultin's dead wife! (yay!)

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤedit: i took so long on this that it is now way closer to valentines day. oops. it also ends abruptly bc i ran out of ideas for now lmao

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤshe was a human rogue that could have easily been mistaken for a fighter (probably because she did serve as a protector of a criminal organization for a little while, right before she had met paultin, but that's for later). she actually believed in lathander, but was more of a casual believer and would typically attend sermons once every month. she was about two inches taller than paultin and had long brown hair that was sometimes tied into a braid or a bun, depending on the day. she was also a year or so older than him.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤher and paultin had first met at a festival that was taking place in waterdeep. she was initially doing rounds as a voluntary guard, but had gotten pretty bored of it--until paultin caught her eye. he wasn't performing, exactly, but trying to barter with a vendor with his charm. when he succeeded, she wasted no time and had broken the ice. ( waterdeep was expensive, after all, and despite her class, she didn't want to steal from someone who was also struggling to make ends meet. )

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤafter that, the two would bump into each other again at an inn that paultin was preparing to play for. he was hopping around, as it was cheaper to do that instead of settling down--sandra was simply staying at the same inn he was performing in, as she no longer had 'proper housing' after cutting ties with her previous job. they once again started talking, and soon enough, they were making plans to meet at that inn every few days to check on each other.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤevery few days turned into every night or late night after a while--about four months after they had initially started, to be specific. paultin started to think about settling a permanent spot to come back to in waterdeep, as his performances were doing well enough. not only that, but it'd make the check-ins easier to travel to. sandra offered to live with him to make payments easier (and also so she could stop living at inns), and paultin agreed. about a month and a half later, they're moving into a fixer-upper--and it's then that sandra thinks about their relationship. within that month, she asks him to be her boyfriend. ( he was hesitant at first, but after getting out of his own head, he agreed. )

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤtheir relationship is pretty domestic, and for a while, they're content with how things are. they live comfortably, and sandra starts to shift away from working as a guard and more as a defense instructor for kids.

[doortotomorrow]

nate shepard / jack - sizing each other up