#nathan's terrible jokes

[drawfee-quot3s]

if you have two noodle characters, and they uh, they have a conversation that doesn't involve talking about sauce? it passes the béchamel test

- nathan

[androgymagnus]

tfw extremely homoerotic toxic relationships between two fucked up little guys

[sobredunia]

there are two wolves inside you

one is a cowboy

the other is also a cowboy

you are VOACT flowey

[hotchfiles]

hey, congrats on 100!! wanted to request seth cohen with the prompt “i would do anything not to give a shit, but i do” thanks so much!!

lari's 100th follower bash + send me a prompt and one of my boys for a blurb

seth + “i would do anything not to give a shit, but i do”

      His eyes haven't left you from the moment he barged into your room, the close friendship you shared allowing him to be as impertinent as he wished. Your own glanced him from time to time through your mirror as you worked on your makeup.

      You had a date. An actual date. Cohen was not going to ruin that for you.

      "So you're actually doing this, you're really going out with him."

      If you allowed yourself to delve more into the terrible heart wrenching crush you had on the curly boy laying your bed, you would tell yourself his voice sounded disappointed, sad even. But you promised yourself you wouldn't do that anymore. Not holding your love life back because Seth might look at you softly once in a while, or because he would sleep on your lap while showing you one of his underrated tv shows that would surely be canceled in two seasons max.

      "Oh no, I just enjoy uncomfortable clothes and spending two hours on my makeup. The usual."

      Seth's response to your sarcasm was to scoff annoyingly loud and roll on your bed to look up your ceiling, trying to think of anything he could say or do that could stop you.

      He couldn't just lock the door and swallow the keys even though that was the first option to come to mind. a fake allergy attack wouldn't work, you knew of everything he was allergic to. He could just ask you not to—but then you'd ask why.

      And he didn't know why. He just didn't want you to. It was unnerving to think of you having fun with another guy with your silly pretty dress and your red lipstick he never saw you wear before.

      And he couldn't even blame on your date. He was a cool normal guy, not some kind of awful jock.

      "Well, I mean, it's Firefly night, you never miss Firefly night. Are you coming home before it airs or—" Seth didn't finish his pleads, the way you looked at him was enough of an answer, you didn't even like Firefly that much, your biggest enjoyment out of it was Nathan Fillion being a hottie and... Cohen's company.

      You sigh deeply, avoiding his gaze as you went directly to your shoes, trying to find something remotely elegant for a dinner.

      Of course you would rather be laying on his couch, eating popcorn, cozy on his blanket that always smells like him, laughing at his jokes and pretending to be offended when he thought you didn't understand one of them. But the more you did that, the more you lost precious opportunities to find someone to actually be with you. Love you.

      "But like, you don't even know him." Not true, he was older than you both, but he graduated from the same high school only months before. "And he's not even tall." He was taller than you though. "And he has a terrible taste in socks."

      "Socks, Cohen? Really?" you groan in frustration, at him and at the fact not one of your heels matched your dress. Too high, too black, too thin, too tall. Nothing matched. "Why do you care?" you ask finally, your hands on your hips as you looked over at him, who, sensing you were getting madder by the second, decided to get up and just sit on your bed, looking into your eyes. "Do I need your blessing? Do I have to ask you before going out with someone? Why, why do you care?"

      "I don't know! Okay. I don't know." His body jumps from your bed, pacing out through your room, avoiding your eyes at all costs. "I would do anything not to give a shit, but I do." He stops on his tracks, his breathing is loud, was it ever that loud? Or were you both just too quiet?

      You think you're gonna regret this, but you step even closer to him, planning to possibly ruin your friendship but to at least get a single kiss before it happened.

      Seth looks at your lips and like many times before he wonders how soft they are, if the lipstick you had on tastes like cherries like your balm you usually wear and forces on his lips with your fingers.

      Would your thighs be warm around his waist? Would his cold hands on your cheeks scare you away? Just the usual stuff a good friend would think about his friend who is also a girl.

      He acts on impulse as do you, both of you going for a kiss at the same time, laughing at how uncoordinated it felt because of it, noses hitting before your lips could touch. But they do eventually.

      Seth notices the lipstick does not taste like cherries on your soft lips, it actually tastes awful, but he doesn't care. Your makeup is getting completely ruined, his fingers firm on your cheeks, but you're more than happy to let that happen.

      The kiss doesn't linger, the need for air even stronger due to the surprise of it all, his forehead touches yours lightly, his hands never leave your face. "Firefly night is just... Very important to me." You nod at his joke, too stunned to even laugh.

      "Your house then." It's not a question, you let go of him and he groans missing how warm you felt. You put on the first pair of slippers you can find and pull his hand as you left your room. Not a single plan to watch the stupid show in mind.

[feyd-meowtha]

Starting a petition to bring back Nathan Young from Misfits as tumblr darling. I swear, this guy is a contender for the most blorbified character ever created, he has everything.

He's a young offender, he's Irish, he has big green eyes and curly hair, he has mommy issues AND daddy issues, he's a compulsive liar, he was raised Catholic, he's bisexual (to me), he makes more stupid jokes than anyone in the history of ever, he's a slut, he got arrested for stealing some pick and mix, he's homeless, he has hidden several corpses, he's canonically terrible in bed, he got buried alive, he fucked an 82 year old woman by mistake and he literally cannot die.

I mean come on, it's like he was made in a lab for you people, talk about low hanging fruit. Now everyone go watch Misfits pls thanx

[lol-jackles]

Hi, how are you?

I wanted to ask, we know that Jared has not stopped working since Supernatural ended.

He had offers even before Supernatural and Walker ended.

So my question is, do JP's agents still give him scripts for possible series or movies?

Do they still submit Jared's name for auditions?

Throughout these years until now do you think Jared received offers to do movies?

Until the moment you retired, did you hear that Jared's name had been associated with any movie production?

Hi friend, very very busy which I'll expand on later in this post.

Yes and yes after agents sort through factors such as salary, cast, production team, etc. Scripts are just one piece of the puzzle. I've seen great scripts ruined by bad production and terrible scrips filmed with high standards.

As for movies, Jared did received offers for low budget movies, but his manager has always steered him towards television because that's where the money is. The timeless joke is movie stars can get a seat at a restaurant anytime while television stars can buy the restaurant.

Jared's surname is unusual so I had vague recollection of his name attached to Whatever it Takes, a teen modern version of Cyrano de Bergerac. After 10 Things I Hate About You and Cruel Intentions were hits, Hollywood tried to capitalize on taking old classics and "retelling" them in modern teen settings.

Nowadays I haven't heard much other than gossips that studios think they can get at least 3 more television series from Jared. David Boreanaz and Nathan Fillion are 55 and 53 respectively so there's been speculation they good for one and two more tv series as leads respectively. Half the reasons why I've been relatively absent from this hell site is because my old job hired me as a consultant. Casting is one of the hardest aspects of this business, for both low and big budget films. So between my new part time job and my current full time job and holiday family obligations quickly descending upon us, free time to trigger AAs on this hell site is rarer by the day.

[toast-tales]

Cursed Cravings: A retold, g/t story of Beauty and the Beast, with a sinister twist.

When he declines to help a beggar woman, wealthy aristocrat Christopher Penn was cursed to adopt a giant form with a terrible, monstrous burden, and the conditions to break the curse seem all but impossible. When a peasant girl, Danny, agrees to take her friend's place as Christopher's captive, he realizes that she may be the last hope of regaining his humanity and breaking the spell for good.

But who could ever care for a monster like him?

This will be an AU of ITWOM involving some familiar characters like Christopher, Danny, Sam, and Nathan - but you don't have to have read the main story to read this one. Lots of things will be changed around, so for all intents and purposes, these aren't the characters you know.

This story will contain g/t, angst, and soft/safe vore later down the road. It's still going to be a lighter read than ITWOM, but be warned nonetheless! This isn't the Beauty and the Beast story you know from Disney.

Read Chapter 1 below:

Chapter 1: Dark Night of the Soul

Contains: ~2k words | Chapter Index | Read this story on A03!

It was a night like many others, the night that Christopher Penn's life was changed forever.

A deluge had begun that evening, torrential rain bearing down upon the land with fierce strikes of lightning and thunder rattling the large windows of the mansion—but all this meant for Christopher and his guests was that they wouldn't be able to enjoy the garden out back, and their merriment was restricted to the large indoor space. The music still swelled and filled the air pleasantly, rising above the sounds of the storm outside and making it easy for the partygoers to forget how unpleasant it was outside the walls of Christopher's house.

The host in question flitted from person to person throughout the evening, engaging in the usual small talk and jokes, an easy and charming smile lighting up his face and those of the people he met with. He was a gracious and charismatic host, always making sure that his parties were the grandest, with his guests never wanting for anything. The people in attendance would speak highly of his events, of the balls and the dinner parties, that he was so keen to host. 

On the surface, Christopher seemed rather at ease, full of a charm and grace that would be befitting of someone from a wealthy family. But his actions were all surface level—each word and step he took was carefully choreographed and planned in advance. He was terrified, truly—each person he brought into his home was a potential ally, a potential for advancing his status, but they were also a potential seed to his own destruction.

Christopher had spent every day since his parents had passed rebuilding his family's reputation among the nobility. He could see past their charm—they despised his parents, and in turn, they despised him. His own reputation—the very thing that allowed him to live in such comforts still, to have any amount of power and social standing at all—was fragile and tenuous, and every interaction he had, no matter how seemingly insignificant it was, was an attempt to maintain its strength.

And so, while he seemed completely comfortable in this element, there was a latent anxiety in Christopher, hidden well beneath the surface. 

He almost didn’t hear the knock at the door at first, wrapped up as he was in conversation. But his manservant rushed to his side, rather insistently dragging him away.

“I’m sorry, Chris, she just won’t leave without speaking to you.” Sam’s stride was brisk, and they gave Christopher no choice but to follow. He offered a quick and profuse apology to the noblewoman he’d been entertaining before he caught up to Sam.

“You’re not able to send her away?” Christopher hissed, somewhat tersely. “I can’t be interrupted by every stranger that shows up here. I have guests to attend to.” 

“Hey, I tried!” Sam insisted. “I’m just one guy, and I also have guests of yours to attend to. She keeps coming back. All she wants is a quick word with you. Just humor her, and she’ll be out of your hair.” Sam ran their fingers somewhat anxiously through their own well-groomed locks. “We can just deal with it quietly, before she causes a scene. Some of the guests near the front door are getting a little antsy about it.” 

Christopher sighed wearily as he followed Sam to the main entrance. Perhaps if he had more staff, this wouldn’t be a problem. Most of the house’s staff had left in the fallout of his parents’ demise, with the sole exception being Sam—his personal servant who’d remained as doggedly loyal to him as they had the first day they’d been assigned to care for him. He’d never let on to his guests, but Christopher worked with Sam every day to keep the house in order, even helping cook the meals and clean. He had to keep up appearances as best he could. 

Sam pulled the grand front door open to reveal a woman on the other side—a pauper in beggar’s clothes, tattered and rain-soaked, hunched on his front stoop as she gazed up at Christopher. 

Christopher stood up straight and directed a cold, stern look towards the woman. He could feel several sets of eyes on him, and knew that there was a group of aristocrats watching the scene intently. He adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves idly as he spoke, as if he couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to the woman at all.

“I’m afraid you will have to leave. I have no room for beggars here.” 

The woman shivered slightly, tilting her head up further to meet Christopher’s face. Her eyes were wide and glassy, her face lined with creases from age and stress. “P-please, kind sir, I only need to come in from the storm for a short while. I won’t be any trouble. I…I haven’t eaten in days-”

The people nearby began to whisper, a touch of disgust coloring their tone. 

“This is an exclusive event,” Christopher interjected firmly. “There is a certain decorum that must be maintained. Please leave, or I will contact the authorities to escort you away.” 

If he had been at home alone that evening, he might have afforded some manner of small comfort towards the woman. But he couldn’t be seen sullying his hands with the poor here. 

A pleading, desperate look came to the woman’s face, her features falling into despair. “Sir, I will not survive the night!” Her voice was hoarse and rough, as if sandpaper scraped against the inside of her throat. “You would turn me away, to the mercy of the storm?”

Her cries had gotten louder—more of his guests had turned to look and whisper among themselves, casting uncertain and hesitant glances Christopher’s way. He didn’t need to hear them to know what they were all saying. 

What kind of place is this, where the host entertains beggars?

He is no better than his parents, mingling with such filth.

He doesn’t belong here.

He is not one of us.

He set his jaw and made his stance firm, his dark eyes fixed sharply down at the beggar. He couldn’t let this go on further. “Leave. Your welfare is not my concern.”

The woman’s face became suddenly sharper, each crease and wrinkle fading to a more youthful visage, and her muddy, round eyes transformed to piercing, golden ones. She no longer hunched, but stood straight up, rising to a height that forced even Christopher to look up in awestruck terror. 

“THEN YOU WILL HAVE BLOOD ON YOUR HANDS, CHRISTOPHER PENN.” 

Her tattered clothes transformed to flowing white robes upon her dark skin, her hair now falling in neat and lovely braids down her back, adorned with gold. 

She cast a scornful, acidic gaze towards Christopher as she looked down on him, each fiber of her being radiating with malice. 

His heart stopped beating—the entire world seemed to have gone silent, save for the strikes of thunder that almost seemed to accentuate every word this woman spoke. Her voice boomed with an unnatural volume throughout the entire hall. He didn’t need to turn around to know that every single person in attendance had heard.

He did his best to hide the quaking in his limbs. He couldn’t lose his composure, even now. “Who are you?” he asked, his voice escaping as nothing but a whisper.

The woman scowled at him, her expression one of pure poison. He could feel himself withering beneath it, despite all his efforts to keep calm. 

“You would not remember me, for the faces you entertain here are simply passing flights of fancy to you. I was your guest, Penn. And I saw past your charm. You use people for your own gain, grasping onto what little power you have like a pathetic child, desperate to rise above your place in the world.” 

She pointed an accusing finger towards him. “You have a vile, black heart, so cruel that you would send a woman away to her death when she asks for but a little kindness.”

“Hey!” Sam spoke up, a little timidly beside Christopher. “You can’t talk about him like-”

“SILENCE.” A loud strike of thunder shook the entire house, rattling the foundation and carrying the woman’s voice to the ears of every patron once again. A blistering wind tore through the open door, making the curtains tremble in its wake. 

Christopher thought that something seemed familiar about the woman—he felt as though he could recall a conversation with her, and she surely must have been at one of his parties. He searched for a name desperately, frantically wracking his brain for this woman’s identity.

“...Sybil?” he croaked, every ounce of confidence having long since left his body. His knees began to tremble, and he worried that they would soon give out completely. “Y-you may come in, I am so very sorry to have offended-”

“You have already failed, Penn. Now you repent, for you see my true form, and the power I wield.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Your fate has already been sealed.”

The world was swallowed in darkness within only the span of a moment, and the screams of Christopher’s guests and Sam became drowned out by an all-encompassing blackness that surrounded him, choking the air from his lungs, squeezing his ribcage until he thought he would burst from the pressure. He could not speak, he could not move, he could not see. If not for the excruciating pain shooting through every fiber of his being, he would have thought he was dead.

“You will no longer hide behind your tawdry facade. A monster within, so a monster you shall become.” 

Sybil’s voice came from all around him, like a harsh winter wind that froze the blood in his veins as it passed over him. Her words had weight to them, laden with something powerful, and far beyond this world’s understanding. 

His body was changing, but in what manner, he had no way to tell. All he could feel was pain—pain and a clawing hunger, like an animal inside of his stomach ripping and tearing at the flesh within, desperate to break out. His head throbbed as sounds swirled in his mind, indistinguishable from each other as they rose into a crescendo of noise, and the silence turned to a deafening cacophony. Voices, screams, shouting, but no words he could make out. He thought that he could hear Sam, amidst all the chaos, but he couldn’t be sure.

And then, before the darkness of his vision cleared to reveal the full extent of the horror that awaited him, he was assaulted by the wave of a strong smell he couldn’t place, a scent that filled his lungs and made the desperate animal within his gut writhe and twist in agony. It was like the scent of the finest wine, the most tantalizing food in existence, in such a great amount that it was overwhelming—even though, in those few moments of blissful ignorance, he had no idea what it was that delighted his senses so, that made the pain almost forgotten, that made every bone of his ache with an almost feral hunger.

His eyes opened with frantic urgency, and the scene before him unfolded slowly into a horrifyingly clear depiction of the gruesome fate that had been thrust upon him. He could barely see the faces of the ones he’d invited here, but their frightened screams spoke loudly enough. No words came to his own mouth—he was frozen in horror, like an insect trapped in amber as the weight of what happened sunk in, pressing down upon him like a suffocating, terrible gravity.

Despite his transformation, Sybil’s words rang as clear in his head as they had before. 

“Ten years, Penn. Ten years to prove yourself, or this form will be your prison.”

* * * * * * * * * * 

Next Chapter ->

Thanks for reading! I hope to update this story semi-consistently, because boy do I have some things planned down the road. So stay tuned!

[itsawhumpsideblog]

A Safehouse Christmas Story, pt. 10

On the tenth day of Christmas, My true love gave to me Ten lords a-leaping...

Mistress hadn't known what she was starting when she showed Mikey how to dance, he thought. The feeling of moving in time to music had been... almost magical. It was a totally new sensation. In the following days, when he was alone, Mikey liked to replay the song in his head, moving his feet in time to the music only he could hear.

There was something very pleasant in stepping through the waltz over and over again, putting his feet in just the right spots, turning at just the right angle, moving smoothly and gracefully...

Mikey was pretty sure he had never been graceful before in his life. It was a nice change. When he danced the one and only step he knew, he forgot that he had been trained to fight. He forgot the days spent sparring with other pets and the nights spent weeping because he was afraid he had hurt them.

In some ways, Mikey was glad his hands were immobile for the time being. He had a terribly clear memory of that last fight, of hitting whoever came within reach until his knuckles bled and his fingers cracked. His job was to protect his Master and he had failed at it, he knew that. His Master had died because he was a failure. Worse, Nathan had nearly died. For weeks, Mikey had been sure the kind indoor pet he knew was gone forever. His hands had done that- his hands had failed to protect the Master he was ordered to protect and the friend he was desperate to save.

But then Nathan had come back and Mikey had the consolation of knowing he had gotten at least one thing right. Having Nathan was comforting and made him feel a little better about himself.

It was still hard to look at his hands, though, and know what those hands had done and how many people those hands had damaged. He had been made to use them for hurting and this haunted him, even though Master said it was not his fault. Nathan had explained about the drugs that wiped his memory and Mistress had sat him down and talked to him about the way training like the WRU gave him could affect the mind. But Mikey still felt responsible and sometimes found it hard to look at his hands. He was glad they hurt. He deserved for his hands to hurt, after all he had done with them.

So now, Mikey was relieved that his hands were bandaged and stiff and out of his sight. It was like they had been re-built and when the bandages and casts came off, maybe his hands would feel new. Maybe he could do something better with them.

Francis had suggested he learn Sign Language, and they all watched videos together to practice. Maybe his hands could be for communicating, now- for telling stories and saying kind things and even making jokes, when he learned how.

Or he could learn to make things, and his hands could be used for building instead of breaking.

Or maybe Mistress would dance with him again and his hands could be part of creating something beautiful and graceful. He thought back to the night she had showed them The Nutcracker. Mikey had been totally entranced, watching the dancers spin and leap across the stage. Every movement had been so precise and clean and coordinated. He wanted to be like that. He wanted to go leaping through the air, knowing how he would land, and that he could take joy in using his strength for something that made the world a little brighter.

Maybe one day he could learn more, and learn to do as the men in The Nutcracker did. Just thinking about it made Mikey smile.

For now, he practiced his waltz and slid around the floor in time to silent music, waiting and dreaming.

Tag list: @pigeonwhumps, @cepheusgalaxy, @i-eat-worlds

@honeycollectswhump @taterswhump, @starfields08000

@whumpsday, @fruitypinapple00, @currentlyinthesprial

@maracujatangerine @lordcatwich

[alfredojesta]

okay self indulgent rant about my circus pasta headcanons (i call them "circus squad" which is funny because nathan vine and pup are far from circusy) (THIS POST IS SO LONG OMG I JUST DON'T SHUT UP)

PART 1: NATHAN AND CANDY POP

ever since nathan and ciara got married, candy pop treats nathan like he's his angsty teenage son. even though nathan is a grown ass man. and they've been best friends for years.

he shows up to nathan and ciara's house in the middle of the night with gifts and (store-bought) food. ciara wakes up and punches him out of surprise. "WHERE DID YOU COME FROM, POPS?" "OW — I COME WITH GIFTS!"

candy pop and nathan have a lot of trust in each other. nathan acts like an anti social freak but candy pop knows he's a silly little guy. candy pop isn't bitter at all that nathan spends more time with his wife than with the jester. candy pop is actually incredibly supportive of their relationship! he's very proud! he wants to be a good father and a great bestie! he even wanted to match with nathan so he made jason the toymaker marry him (IT ENDED IN A TERRIBLE DIVORCE)!

i think that nathan has supported candy pop the longest. they met when night terrors was still in commission and they worked together to stop night terrors and his cluster of souls from wreaking havoc. candy pop was beneficial to nathan as well. candy pop helped him get out of his shell and become as hopeful as he is today. nowadays, nathan's too busy with his own life to do pranks with candy pop. but candy pop doesn't mind it.

candy pop tries to be a good father to ciara. he does the most he can, but even then it doesn't feel like enough. ciara pushes him away, claiming she's able to protect herself. she isn't good with trusting people, not even candy pop. losing her twin brother made her cold and distant. being around the jarringly energetic candy pop makes her angry in a way. she doesn't know just how much candy pop relates to her life.

PART 2: VINE AND PAPA GRANDE

VINE??? oh he's like . 40. vine is more of a lowkey serial killer. his victims are normally documented as "missing". he hides his tracks well. he's the richest out of the six, having inherited most of his father's money and then used it to start a successful business.

he's besties with the puppeteer, papa grande and nathan. it was pretty difficult for them to get close to vine. vine is quiet, quite asocial for his age, and has a hard time trusting men. he was lucky enough to find people he could relate to.

when it comes to jason and candy pop... vine is 50/50 with them. sometimes he likes them, sometimes he doesn't. jason isn't fun to talk to; he doesn't listen, he's working 99% of the time, and he'll either sigh with annoyance or tell vine straight up "i do not care. get out." and then candy pop is candy pop idk what more to say about that.

then papa grande... he's a travelling magician who picks certain people from the audience to kill and add to his collection! he, like vine, isn't a famous serial killer.

papa grande rarely admits it but he sees these little guys as family. nathan is like his adopted son... annoying adopted son. they constantly joke about papa grande breaking his back or having a heart attack, and at some point, papa grande thinks they're praying on his downfall.

jason learns all his magic tricks from papa grande — usually against his will. papa grande genuinely thought jason was a magician because of his tophat and cane. but no. jason is just a fancy british guy.

candy pop's an exception when it comes to the familial bond. candy pop is like a dog he found on the street. candy pop is a menace. he keeps waking up papa grande in the middle of the night and asking him to do magic tricks. "PAPA WAKE UP!" "WHAT" "MAGIC TRICKS!" "WHAT."

PART 3: THE PUPPETEER AND JASON

i have a bunch of headcanons for THE MALE MANIPULATORS. i think the toymaker and the puppeteer would get along great.

FIRST OF ALL, the puppeteer actually respects jason. he was a bit intimidated by jason at first, but after getting to know him, he's come to look up to him. pup admires jason's craftsmanship, finding his work to be beautiful and inspiring.

SECOND OF ALL, as a toymaker himself, jason is intrigued by pup being a living puppet. sometimes he asks to reconfigure the puppeteer's wooden limbs. to that, the puppeteer politely declines.

THIRD OF ALL, they are SENSIBLE PEOPLE... usually. they're both manipulative and selfish freaks who get angry when things don't go their way... i reckon they have conversations over tea about how many people they've fucked up this year. "five women in one month? scandalous." "do not word it like that."

pup is a wanderer. wanderers don't have places to stay. wanderers wander into peoples' apartments ("they are called flats" – jason) and overstay their visits... jason let him stay ONCE. ONCE. and the puppeteer decided to take it as "oh i can come over whenever i want!"

thankfully he isn't a messy guy... he's just odd. he always turns on the tv just to watch it for three minutes and then head to the kitchen to cook dinner. but he never finishes cooking dinner because he gets distracted by the tv he played in the living room an hour ago. jason hears it all happen.

pup also tries to console jason about his anger issues. he keeps seeing holes punched into the wall and it's concerning. (i think punching holes into walls actually makes jason angrier. like what the fuck do you mean you're that weak. dumbass wall.) pup makes sure not to enable his anger... he is the exact opposite of candy pop and nathan.

the puppeteer very much loves his friends and will do anything for them (he does not have many friends). whenever someone takes the toymaker's tophat, the puppeteer is the one to return it. even if it ends up at the side of a cliff in nevada, he'll get it back for the toymaker. although, the toymaker usually doesn't want the tophat back...

jason thinks the puppeteer can be overbearing at times but he isn't as bad as candy pop, so things are okay. plus, jason can always mess with the puppeteer as much as he messes with jason. whether it's scaring him off with a toy or shaking salt in front of him, pup is such an easy target.

OKAY THAT'S ALL (i have more just saving it for other posts xD)

they're rlly interesting characters :') genuinely my favourites. i love them so much... i have a candymaker rant right here too for anyone who wants to read

[emma23]

Bad decisions, worst timing:

Nathan Bateman x reader

————————————————————————

You stand outside the enormous glass walls of Nathan Bateman’s isolated estate, feeling the chill of the night air against your skin. The forest around the estate seems too quiet, almost eerie, but you barely notice it. Your thoughts are louder than any sound in the woods.

You just found out. He cheated. Your stupid, slimy ex cheated on you. The worst part is, you weren’t even that surprised. Maybe you had seen it coming, maybe you had ignored the signs for too long, or maybe it was just easier to believe that things were fine when they clearly weren’t.

Whatever. It was over now.

And standing here, in front of Nathan Bateman’s door, you know this is a terrible idea. The man was practically a genius, rich beyond belief, but he had the emotional range of a rock and the moral compass of…well, a mad scientist. But here you were anyway, because when you make bad decisions, you make spectacularly bad ones.

You buzz the intercom. There's a long pause before the door hisses open, and Nathan stands in front of you, a bottle of whiskey in hand, already looking slightly buzzed. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"You lost or something?" Nathan asks, his voice carrying that usual cocky tone, as though he couldn't believe someone would show up unannounced.

"No." You shake your head, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. "I need a favor."

Nathan quirks an eyebrow, taking a swig from his glass. "Favor? Don’t tell me—your car broke down in the middle of nowhere?"

"No," you say flatly. "My ex cheated on me, and I need to forget about it. Tonight. And I figured you could help with that."

His smirk grows as he leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. "You think I'm the guy you come to for that kind of favor?"

You shrug, trying to act casual even though your heart is racing. "I figured it was either you or…someone else. Your call."

Nathan’s eyes narrow, and you can see the gears turning in his head. He knows what you’re asking for. He just doesn’t want to make this easy for you. Of course, he doesn’t.

"Should I tell you again that you don’t really wanna sleep with me?" he says, his voice mocking, as if this was all some kind of joke.

"You could," you reply, meeting his gaze evenly. "But that’s only if you want me to sleep with someone else tonight."

That catches him off guard. For a moment, you see something dark flash across his face—jealousy, maybe? He’s possessive, that much is obvious, but he hates to admit it.

Nathan steps closer, his voice dropping an octave. "You sure about this?"

"Positive."

He lets out a low, humorless chuckle before setting his glass down on the table. His eyes rake over you, from your heels to your dress, and you feel the heat of his gaze settle in your stomach.

"Take your dress off," he commands, his voice rough and without hesitation. "But the heels stay on."

Your pulse quickens at the command, but you don’t falter. You’ve come this far, and there’s no turning back now. As your fingers fumble with the zipper at your back, you notice Nathan watching you intently, his gaze never wavering. There’s a tension in the room, thick enough to cut through.

The dress slips off, pooling around your feet, and Nathan takes a slow step towards you, eyes darkened with something primal.

"Should’ve known," he mutters under his breath, reaching out to run a hand down your arm. His touch is rough, but you can’t deny the electric thrill that comes with it.

You meet his gaze. "Known what?"

He smirks. "That you'd be trouble."

The next thing you know, he’s pulling you in, his lips crashing against yours with a roughness that takes your breath away. His hands are on your hips, pulling you closer as the heat between you ignites. It’s messy, desperate, and nothing like you expected.

Nathan isn’t gentle. He’s not the type to whisper sweet nothings or ask if you’re okay. No, this is all raw instinct and the need to control, to dominate. And right now, you’re completely okay with that.

As his hands roam your body, he maneuvers you onto the couch, his lips never leaving yours. The world outside could be burning, and you wouldn’t even notice.

The next few minutes are a blur of hands and lips, the sound of his breathing mixing with your own as you lose yourself in the moment. You’re not sure how much time passes, but eventually, you’re lying there, spent, with Nathan beside you, the tension between you finally dissipating.

The room falls silent except for the sound of your heavy breathing, and for a moment, everything feels still.

Nathan turns his head, looking at you with a satisfied smirk. "Well, that was… cathartic."

You chuckle, rolling your eyes. "Don’t flatter yourself."

"I don’t need to," he says, his voice dripping with arrogance. "You’re the one who came here."

You groan, half-laughing, half-exasperated. "Yeah, yeah. Don’t get used to it."

Nathan just laughs, taking a swig from the bottle of whiskey still sitting on the table. He offers it to you, and you take it, grateful for something to distract you from the fact that you just made yet another terrible decision.

But for now, at least, you feel a little better.

You glance over at Nathan, who’s already sprawled out on the couch like he owns the place (which, technically, he does).

"You really are the worst," you mutter, taking a sip.

He smirks, eyes gleaming with amusement. "And yet here you are."

You sigh, setting the bottle down. "Yeah. Guess I’m just bad at making good choices."

Nathan raises an eyebrow. "Well, at least you’re consistent."

You throw a pillow at him, and he catches it effortlessly, grinning like he’s won some kind of prize.

"And you’re impossible," you add.

Nathan just shrugs, settling back into the couch. "I never said I wasn’t."

And with that, the night drifts into an odd sort of comfort—a shared understanding between two deeply flawed people, finding a strange kind of solace in each other’s company.

[drawfee-quot3s]

demeanour? i would only respect her

- nathan

[stabbyfoxandrew]

Hey! Could I get a little bit of Arsonist Neil? I desperately wanna know how this phone call will go! Thank you for sharing your beautiful writing Aerie!!! I wish you a good week!

WIP Wednesday (4/17) | Arsonist Neil / Firefighter Andrew AU (Part 147)

When Neil hangs up the phone, there’s a warmth in his chest that he’s never noticed before. It’s nice to have someone to talk to after a horrid memory disguised as a nightmare. He fondly strokes his phone screen with the pad of his thumb and sighs. Andrew was angry at him, but still answered when Neil needed him. 

He can’t recall ever having that sort of friendship his entire life. Of course, talking to Andrew meant having to hear about that movie… But, even that was nice. Andrew’s voice is nice. He should narrate books or something. Neil double checks that his door is locked and barricaded with the chair before kicking off his shoes and sort of making his bed enough to crawl into it.

As he starts to jam the charger into the side of his slider phone, Neil notices he’s got an alarming amount of missed messages. He opens his text thread with Andrew and scrolls to the top, back to that angry ‘leave me alone’ that had him ripping the battery out.

Andrew I didn’t mean it. Tell me why you didn’t stay.

Neil lets out a breath. If only he could.

Andrew I apologize for jumping to conclusions. Obviously I’m not good with people either.

They’re a couple of idiots, it seems.

Andrew You know, technically, you did deliver on the coffee. I just didn’t drink it. I guess this means I’m paying next time. What should we do? I noticed there are a couple of movies playing that might be alright. We could catch a matinee. But, be warned, I will be sneaking candy in because I’m not a goddamn Rockefeller. Do you like M&Ms?

Andrew was trying to make other plans with him? With Neil? He can’t fucking believe that.

Andrew There’s a bunch of kids at work today. A field trip was arranged behind my back by my friend Renee. It’s just as fun as it sounds. One of the kids heckled me, then another asked how strong I was. So I was made to carry my very large coworker across the room. What’s new with you?

Neil knows firefighters have to be strong, but he’s suddenly wondering just how large Andrew’s co-worker was. Andrew seems quite sturdy, despite being even shorter than Neil.

Andrew I’m about to go to the movies with my brother who hates me. Well, I’m not sure if he still hates me. He used to. Wish me luck, firebug.

The nickname has a smile forming on Neil's face.

Andrew The movie was terrible, just so you know. I hated every second of it. My brother enjoyed it, but he’s stupid. Did you know a large soda costs like $50 now? I’m joking, obviously. But the prices are ridiculous, so I suppose I won’t be doing that again for a while.

Neil hasn’t been to a movie theater in… He counts back years in his head and thinks of the time he and his mother ran into one to hide from one of Nathan’s people. They’d hunkered down in a crowded theater playing some sort of kiddie movie about a little Hawaiian girl.

He didn’t get to watch it because Mary kept shoving him down into the seat and watching the doors behind them, but the tune of the song was catchy even if it was in a language he didn’t know. He hums what he remembers of it and taps out replies to almost every message Andrew had sent him. Then he rolls around and goes back to sleep.

[nprescott]

@florietiae said: all the outfits were terrible.  / max!

A smirk spread across Nathan's lips. Well now, Maxine Caulfield was finally talking about crappy outfits. He knew she had it in her. Honestly, Max had serious potential. With her and Victoria, the three of them had a chance to really be the rulers of this school.

"Look at that. Max Caulfield is actually talking about fashion. Does this mean you're finally being corrupted by Vic?" He says it more as a joke than anything. He liked Max. She was shy, but as she came out of her shell he really did think she had fucking potential. And her photography was good. He couldn't argue with Jefferson on that one.

"We'll have you in Chanel and Louis Vuitton by the end of the year." He knows Max can't afford that shit, but he still says it all the same. Well, maybe one day she could. If her pictures blew up.

[darksturnioloqueen]

Cannibal!Chris Preface

**This Fic Series will NOT be for people with triggers. This Fic Series will have moments of cannibalism.**

Definition can·ni·bal·ism /ˈkanəbəˌliz(ə)m/ noun: cannibalism

The practice of eating the flesh of one's own species.

Please Read At Your Own Risk.

⚠︎Trigger Warning: throwing up, getting sick, pale skin, skinny talk, puking up blood, pretty descriptive situations, more throwing up, hospitalization, more throwing up, talk of eating disorders, IV installation, medical talk, being told you can't eat, ALOT of throwing up, hints at death, being watched while eating, raw meat, hinting at worse things. ⚠︎

He was hanging out at the park with friends and his brothers. They were just kicking a soccer ball and talking about the new hot girl in school when he felt it - sick. From what he remembered, this sickness felt pretty standard. The ball was kicked in his direction, and he let it fly past him.

"Chris, what are you doing?" Nick hollered at him.

"Sorry, guys. I feel sick." Chris waved his hand in the air and slowly bent over. He felt his lunch tumbling around in his stomach. The feeling of pressure slowly built its way to the bottom of his esophagus. "I think I'm gonna -" Before he could finish, he was throwing up everything he ate earlier. The burger, fries, and soda did not taste good mixed with his stomach acid.

"Oh shit." Nick felt terrible for hollering at him.

"Chris, you good?" Nate hollered as a joke while his best friend puked his guts out. Matt and he chuckled as they watched Chris blow chunks of food up. No one knew how serious this moment would become, not even Chris. Nick lightly patted his brother's back as he kept dry heaving. Chris looked up, his face covered in panic.

"Nick, something feels wrong."

"You could have eaten something bad or just gotten sick, Chris. It happens all the time." Nick smiled, not understanding what was happening. The truth was none of them knew.

"I wanna go home," Chris said before throwing up more bile.

"Yeah, we should get you home." Nick left his sick brother's side to tell everyone else what was happening.

"You gonna throw up in the van?" Matt chuckled behind Chris. Chris looked up with sorrow in his eyes. He felt terrible for ruining their day, but he couldn't resist his body's urges. He just had to keep going. He opened his mouth to speak, but instead, more acid came up. "I'll take that as a yes." Matt laughed and stepped back, not to get his feet splashed. "I'll find a bag for you to throw up in." Matt left. Chris felt a split moment of relief as if it was over. They all piled in the van, and Matt handed Chris the trash can they kept in the car. Matt drove fast but was still careful since the van was full. He dropped off two of their friends and then headed home with the three of them, with Nathan still in the car. Nathan greeted his second set of parents when they walked in the door.

"Chrissy, you look awful."

"Thanks, Mom." Chris rolled his eyes. Everyone laughed. They knew he felt sick, but her comment was backhandedly funny.

"He's been throwing up."

"Throwing up?" She said, disgusted and shocked. Chris looked paler just from the car ride home.

"I just need to sleep." He shuffled up the stairs to his room. He felt drained. Like a tidal wave, exhaustion pounded into his body. He could feel his blood flowing with every heartbeat. 

"Fortnite?" Matt looked at Nathan. They both took off, leaving Nick and MaryLou standing by the door.

"Did Chris eat something bad?" She asked Nick.

"I'm not sure. We were kicking a ball, and he just started projectile vomiting everywhere." Nick shuddered, not a fan of bodily fluids outside the body.

Chris collapsed on the bed and immediately fell asleep. The house was quiet for a few hours. Chris was sound asleep while everyone else was enjoying the rest of their evening indoors.

Everything was fine... until it got worse.

A week later, Chris still couldn't keep his food down. He could barely sip water without spitting up the liquid. He was losing weight, and fast at that.

"I'm fine." He croaked out. He felt weak, but he knew it was just because he hadn't been able to fully eat anything in forever. They were triplets, but he no longer resembled Nick or Matt in any way. His skin was paler. His eyes were sunken in. His hair looked gray-washed. His lips were thin and chapped. His body was skin slapped over bone.

"Let's go to the doctor again," Nick suggested. Chris had been to the doctor twice, and they both said the same thing: keep trying to eat and drink.

"No, I'm fine." He lay on the couch, covered with three blankets to keep warm.

"Okay. Call me if you need anything." Nick left to his room. Chris flipped through the TV channels until he felt the hunger pain attacking his stomach again.

"Fuck." He slowly pushed the blankets off and shuffled his feet to the kitchen. He didn't even care what he ate as long as it stayed down. By this point, he had ruined every one of his favorite foods, now forever knowing what they tasted like, coming back up with stomach acid. He grabbed a banana. The BRAT diet wasn't working, but he was determined to keep trying. Also, that was all his mother would buy him. He peeled the banana and smelled the sweet scent. His mouth watered. He tore off a small section and swallowed it whole. He waited. Nothing. He did it again. Still nothing. He felt the pain in his stomach subside. He sighed. "Finally." He whispered to himself. He was so relieved he could eat that he felt tears brimming in his eyes. This was the worst kind of flu or stomach bug he'd ever had.

"Hey, Chris, you're up." Matt rounded the corner and stopped seeing his brother moving. He had gotten used to him just being a vegetable on the couch, constantly asking for things.

"Matt, I ate." Chris wanted to share his celebration.

"That's good." Matt knew it was a big moment for him, but it still couldn't resonate.

"I ate, and I haven't thrown -"

"Chris?"

"Fuck." Chris shoved past Matt, ran to the bathroom, and slammed the door, partially in rage and for privacy. He felt it. The weird flutter. It was a ripple effect. He felt a flutter in his stomach that worked its way up to his throat and then - "Huah." He saw the little chunks of yellow splashing into the toilet. The problem wasn't that he threw up his food whole; the real problem and reason he was losing so much weight was that it never stopped there. He would go for hours. This time was different. He closed his eyes and heaved and heaved until he tasted it. Iron. He opened his eyes and saw bright crimson red all over the toilet, seat, and floor. "Matt!" Chris yelled, frozen in place. He looked in the mirror and saw the blood dripping down his chin and staining his teeth. "Matt!" He yelled harsher than the first time.

"Chris, you oh!" Matt froze in the doorway.

"I think I need to go to the hospital." They stared at each other for a moment.

"I'm going to call Mom." Matt slowly reached for his phone and held it to his ear. "It's Chris." That was all he said to her.

"Can you get me some new clothes?" Chris felt terrible asking but was too weak to climb the stairs.

"Yeah," Matt said slowly. He was completely freaked out. On the drive to the hospital, Chris was fine, besides his appearance. Chris was admitted. He sat on the bed and explained, or tried to explain, how he felt.

"It's hard to put into words, but basically, if I don't eat, I feel fine." The doctor nodded and wrote some things on a clipboard.

"May I speak with you for a moment?" He looked at their mother. The two of them stepped outside, leaving Matt with Chris. Nick stayed home, unaware of what was happening.

"That is my baby in there!" They looked up.

"Mom doesn't look happy."

"No, she does not." They both stared through the glass window, watching her get angrier. The poor doctor looked confused. She came back into the room.

"- Job to figure it out." She hollered out the door before closing it.

"Mom?" Matt tip-toed.

"They think you are bulimic." She sat in the chair and grabbed her phone. "Your father is calling." She answered and started talking with him. Chris and Matt shared glances at each other, afraid to speak. Chris being bulimic would actually be comical. Not in the sense that an eating disorder is funny, but Chris? Chris could out-eat anyone a week ago, and now here he was, vomiting up pure blood, and that was their guess? After waiting a few hours, their father arrived to comfort their mother. There was a knock on their door, and then it slowly opened.

"May I?"

"Yeah," Chris answered.

"I called in for a second opinion. This is Mrs. Luke, a dietician. She is going to ask you a few questions, Chris. I'm going to hook you up to an IV drip to try and get you some fluids so you aren't so dehydrated." The doctor started working around on his arm while he talked.

"When was the last time you ate without throwing up?" She asked. Chris looked at his mom as if he needed her permission to answer.

"About nine days," Chris shrugged. Mrs. Luke's eyes opened wide a little, and she looked up from her paper to look at Chris. Matt felt weird standing close to him and sat next to their parents.

"Nine days?" She, too, now looked at his mom to fact-check the information.

"Yeah, about nine days. Ten after today." MaryLou corroborated his truth. She stood up and set down her clipboard.

"May I give you a physical exam?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt," the other doctor said. "I'm all done with your IV. Hopefully, you'll feel a little better soon. If you need anything, hit your call light. I'll leave you guys to it." He exited the room.

"That's fine," Chris said to Mrs. Luke. She started poking and prodding his bones.

"Breathe in and out." Chris did.

"Huh." She had him lie down. His stomach completely sunk in. "Can you drink anything?" She questioned continuing her poking.

"No."

"Water?" She raised a brow.

"No." Chris was nothing but honest.

"I'd like to draw some blood samples to have tested. And while we wait for those results, I'd like you to eat something so I can see how your body responds to -"

"No." Everyone in the room looked towards his mom. "I don't want him puking up blood again. I don't want him eating."

"I would like to see how long he can hold down solid food, and I need to know how his body is responding to solid foods. We can give him anti-nausea medicine before it gets that severe." She explained her course of action. "Is that okay?" MaryLou looked at Jimmy.

"Yeah, that's fine. She is just worried, is all." Jimmy spoke even though he had just entered this situation. MaryLou nodded. Matt was on his phone researching excessive throwing up.

"Great. I promise we are going to take care of this. I'll go order those tests, and we'll get some food brought in. Chris, is there anything specific you'd want?" Of course, Chris already knew his body would reject whatever it was. He couldn't explain how; he just knew.

"Anything is fine." He smiled weakly. Once she left, silence settled in. No one knew what to say. Chris had his blood drawn, and they waited for the test to start. As soon as Mrs. Luke came back, Chris felt nervous. He wasn't sure why.

"So for this test, I just want you to eat and let your body do whatever it wants. Don't try to force anything down." Chris nodded. This felt silly. Everyone watched him while he took a few bites of Froot Loops. He loved the fruity flavor. His mouth was wet as he indulged in the sugary breakfast cereal. Two minutes passed. "How do you feel?" she asked.

"I feel it." Chris didn't know how to describe it. It was just there.

"Feel what?"

"It's there. It's coming. It's -" He started heaving into the bucket provided by the third minute. His body lurched forward with every passing minute.

"Can you stop him?" His mother asked, getting upset. The longer they were in the hospital, the more serious everything became. The dietician administered something into Chris' IV. He kept vomiting. Matt left the room, tired of hearing his brother puking. Chris kept going.

"Chris, you okay?" She asked him. He wanted to flip her off but instead just gave her a thumbs-up before shoving his face down in the bucket. The cereal was long gone by now. Chris didn't stop. "Here, I'll give you some more." She injected more into his IV, and he started to feel some relief. She was frantically writing on her clipboard. There was a knock on the door, and a random person in a lab coat came rushing in and handed her a few papers. "Thank you." She started scanning over the documents. Chris lay back in the bed, feeling exhaustion kick in again. "This is the strangest thing I have ever seen." That caught Chris' attention. "It seems your body is overly saturated with proteases. You have more than five times the amount you should have." She flipped the page, and her eyes got wide.

"Excuse me? What does that mean?"

"Proteases are the enzymes that break down damaged proteins. They create Ubiquintin, which acts as a marker to tell the body what cells are going where in the body." She looked up at Chris. "Your body is identifying food as a damaged protein. Your body is rejecting food." Chris understood what she was saying. What he didn't understand was why she looked terrified.

"So he can't eat?" His mother stepped in.

"No. You can't." Chris's mind then tried to imagine what would become of him if he couldn't eat for the rest of his life. He would die. His mother started crying, and he felt guilty. He didn't know it then, but he would feel that for the rest of his life.

"I would like to keep you overnight and run some more tests. Maybe try a few different things. I know this is a tough time, but I want to learn more and hopefully fix it as soon as possible."

"What happens if you don't?" Chris finally spoke up.

"I don't want to talk about that just yet." She smiled weakly, but everyone in the room knew what would happen if Chris couldn't eat.

"What did I miss?" Matt asked, walking back into the room. With everyone's heavy expressions, he knew it couldn't be good.

One overnight turned into two, and before anyone knew it, days passed by, and Chris became the hospital experiment. Not one, not two, but several doctors became involved with his case. Everyone had a new combination of drugs to try to help him keep food down. He had thrown up so much that his throat was raw with sores. His voice was hoarse from constantly heaving. He wanted to die. He was ready to give up when a shy, nerdy intern finally suggested something.

No one took her seriously at first, but she wasn't kidding. She had research to back it up—the Raw Meat Diet. Chris, by this point, had thrown up everything that the idea of eating raw meat didn't even turn him off. As long as it stayed down, anything sounded like a four-star meal to him. The only thing keeping him alive was the IV drip in his arm, pumping his body full of fluids and vitamins. The saline solution was set up with a macro drip tubing to deliver the fastest drip speed possible. When he wasn't being forced to eat and throw up, he actually felt fine. The IV bag gave him everything he needed.

All the doctors stood around his bed, with his family in the back. In front of him was the strangest request this hospital's kitchen had ever received. A pile of raw meat. He looked at the bright pink beef piled on the plate. This was it for him. His last attempt before he was going to call it quits. He grabbed a fork and poked into the squishy meat. He put it in his mouth and chewed. The texture wasn't the worst. The taste wasn't horrendous, surprisingly. He swallowed and several doctors clicked stop watches.

He looked over at Matt. Matt had been here every day. He even skipped school, with permission, of course, to come hang out and keep Chris company in between tests. Sometimes, it consisted of him just watching Chris sleep, but he planned on being here for him no matter what. Little did he know that promise was going to lead him down a stranger path later on. Matt smiled at Chris, and their moment was broken up by everyone cheering. Chris looked around, confused.

"What?"

"It has been four minutes," Mrs. Luke wrote on her clipboard, which was now stacked one inch thick with test papers. Chris looked down at the raw meat, which was missing a single little scoop off the top.

"Does that mean -" Chris didn't even know what to really ask.

"You can eat." She rested a hand on his shoulder. MaryLou and Jimmy were hugging and celebrating. This took a toll on their entire family. Even Justin missed a few tournaments to be here for Chris. Chris' stomach growled loud enough for everyone to hear and they all giggled. He took another bite of the raw, plushy pink. There was a moment where, though no one would admit it, they all thought he was going to die. But everyone, including Chris, was in the dark about what was to come.

[astra-galaxie]

✨🍕💼🥊🧊🍀🧠💀 for oberon please :3

Another OC to add to the request list! It's time for Nathan’s husband and Lars’s little brother to take the stage!

✨- How did you come up with the OC’s name?

Because it's been haunting me since high school!😭

Long story short, we read “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” in English class, and I liked the name Oberon but didn’t consider using it for an OC. When designing Nathan’s husband, I jokingly thought about using Oberon because of the “Oberon and the Indian boy” thing in the story. (I know, bad joke.) And while I tried using other names, I kept coming back to Oberon! Didn’t help that I was always seeing references to the play too… Seriously, there’s even one in MotP! So, since I couldn't escape it, I decided to use it!

If you can’t beat them, join them!

🍕 - What is their favourite food?

Burgers. Oberon loves a good burger and enjoys trying new combinations of meats, toppings, and sauces. He also loves hosting family barbeques, where he’ll fry up as many burgers and other foods as his friends and family can enjoy.

💼 - What do they do for a living?

Now that the Bureau has been disbanded, Oberon is between jobs. He still works for U.N.I.T. but doesn't have a civilian job jet. He will be moving to Grimsborough with Nathan so their son can finish school before they move to Australia, as they always planned. Oberon is considering a few career ideas, but he hasn’t decided on one yet.

(AKA, I haven't decided on one yet!😅)

🥊 -What do they love to do? What do they hate to do?

Love: Performing. Oberon has always had a flair for performing and loves being on stage. He’s the drummer in Lars’s band, and along with that, he also enjoys performing in plays and doing magic acts. Some people claim it's because he’s named after a theatre character, but whatever the reason, Oberon loves taking the spotlight (but he will always share it with others).

Hate: Buying new clothes. While Oberon is very fashionable and loves dressing up, he hates shopping for new clothes because it means he needs to find ones that won’t irritate his scarred skin. He has learned which fabrics will and will not irritate his skin, but that does not always guarantee he’ll be comfortable wearing them. The fit of the clothes and how the fabric has been treated play a role in his comfort, so a clothes shopping trip is always a daunting task and challenging experience.

🧊 - Is their current design the first one?

Pretty much. Some things changed slightly, like his hairstyle and the burn scars, but Oberon is mostly the same as what I initially planned for him to look like!

🍀 - What originally inspired the OC?

That I gave Nathan a kid before I gave him a husband!😅

Avi’s origins are actually older than my series. I created him for an unrelated crack fic I wrote before starting my series. In it, he had a different father, so when I decided to bring Avi back and make him canon in my series, I realized I needed to give him a new second father. So, Oberon Douglas was created as I always loved Lars’s character and wanted an excuse to give him more love!

🧠 - What do you like most about the OC?

It's a tie between his personality and design. I love that Oberon has similarities to Lars to showcase their connection but differences to set him apart from his brother. I also love writing him and Nathan together because their somewhat opposite personalities work well together. As for his design, while I’m terrible at drawing burn scars, I still love the avatar I created for his profile. The scars show that he went through so much in his past but didn’t let it stop him from building a future.

💀 - Does your OC have any phobias?

Claustrophobia - fear of small or tight spaces.

After being trapped under a support beam in a burning house, Oberon developed a fear of being trapped in small spaces. The fire part somewhat scares him, but being trapped and unable to get out of anywhere is what scares him more. He prefers wide, open spaces to small, confined ones any day!

Ta-da! Oberon’s answers are done!

I hope you enjoyed them and thank you for the ask!

[drippycomedy]

Hello! It’s my first post!

Well, not my first post ever, it’s been at least 12 years since I’ve been on this app.

I’m Nathan, or Drippy, or whatever you want to call me really. I’m 30 and I live in Wales. I’m married, and I have 2 beautiful daughters.

Why have I got tumblr again?

Simple really, I’m using it as a blog to record my journey, because recently I’ve decided to pursue my dream of stand up comedy.

It’s been an ambition of mine since I was 12 years old and saw a Peter Kay DVD my grandma got for Christmas. But like most things life got in the way, and I had to put my dream on hold.

Couple that with being a painfully awkward and shy teenager, I wasn’t really right for the job.

I spent most of my 20s being a dad, and a husband. Working hard to pay the bills and provide for my family. In 2022 we got our own business by buying the lease on a fish and chip shop, and that’s been a rollercoaster! Some great highs, and some real lows. But overall it’s nice to be your own boss. We even expanded our operation and struck a deal with a local pub, we would cook food in their kitchen space since they weren’t using it, and we’d pay them rent.

Unfortunately that didn’t work out, but we did become good friends with the Landlord. Let’s call him John.

John and I would have long chats about his life, what he’d accomplished and most importantly his regrets. He was getting on in years, early 60s I would say, and his body was slowing becoming more of a burden than anything else.

Anyway, about 3 weeks ago I get a text. John has had a heart attack, and died.

He had a favourite seat in the pub, and that’s where he was. He stood up to go for a vape and just like that… dead.

It really shook me. To my very core. We had spoken a few days before, he said he wasn’t feeling great but he was still there, laughing and joking as normal.

So that’s why I’ve decided to do this. Life is short and I’ll always regret it, if I don’t try.

Maybe I’ll bomb, and be absolutely terrible. Maybe I’ll become rich and famous (first joke)

Who knows! That’s the exciting bit.

So please, come with me on my journey. I’d love to have you along for the ride.