#sorry dude you overplayed your hand

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

Thinking thoughts about the TokRev boys (from all different corners of the show but this got out of hand when I started writing for Hanma playing the trumpet. Sorry {not sorry?}). How strong their lips and lungs would be while they're going down on you. Fuck me, dude.

A/N ::: I was watching something today and there was a band. A couple of neurons misfired. Hanma popped into my mind. Here we are, guys. Hanma, again.

C/W ::: Hanma x F.reader, implied drinking, oral M->F, unprotected P->V, and a whole bunch 'o' lies about Hanma being nice ; ).

WC ::: 1,219

TrumpetPlayer!Hanma ::: Stands up on stage, staring at you the whole time he's blowing into the instrument. Don't think he doesn't notice how you're rubbing your thighs together. Such a cute girl, trying to play off her arousal as dancing. Silly, cute, girl.

He sees it. And it's all he can do to keep the tent from popping up in his pants. After the (kick ass!) show he's helping the rest of his band mates take their equipment down and load it up into the van.

You walk up to him and tell him how great they played tonight - and every night, really. You've been going to their gigs for a while now. He smiles, thanking you for supporting them wherever they play, and he puts the speaker on the ground, sitting on it.

Hanma asks you what you're doing right now because the band is having a small after party and it happens to be at his place tonight. "You wanna come?" He brushes his hair from his sweaty forehead and you're sure you're going to squeal if you open your mouth, so you just nod sweetly as he takes your phone and puts in his address and number just in case you get lost.

10 minutes later you're on the road to meet up with him everyone and kick back. His apartment isn't that big, but it's perfect for an intimate gathering. The guys are all there and they all seem to know each other well.

You're standing by the wall with a red cup in your hand when Hanma comes up to you and tells you how glad he is you could make it. You smile and tell him you're happy to be here too. Hanma suggests you go somewhere quieter so you can talk and you both end up in his room.

He shuts the door behind you and you stand next to his bed. You ask him what else he likes to do besides play the trumpet and he tells you to have a seat next to him. He tells you that he doesn't bite - hard - unless you want him to. You laugh too much, you think, at that overplayed joke and hope he doesn't notice.

Hanma turns to look at you, his eyes serious. He says he wants to kiss you and it's like he's sucked all the oxygen from your lungs with just his words. You say yes. And then his lips are on yours. His tongue swipes along your bottom lip and you open your mouth to him. He tastes like cigarettes and beer and it's so fucking intoxicating to you that you have some sort of out of body head rush.

Hanma pulls away, breathing heavily for someone who has such an already impressive lung capacity. He looks at you, a question in his eyes. You nod and he kisses you again, this time harder and more desperate. Your hands find his hair and you tug at it, making him moan into your mouth.

Hanma moves his lips down your neck, biting and sucking at the skin there. He unzips your jeans and slips a hand into your panties. You buck into his fingers and he tells you to keep going. "Oh? You like that? Want me to fuck you with my fingers? How about my cock, huh? Orrr ..." he says between kissing your neck and lips, "maybe my mouth. You ever have a trumpet player go down on you? It'll change your life."

You cry out when he pushes two fingers inside of you and starts moving them in and out. You can feel the pressure building up inside of you and when he rubs your clit with his thumb, you lose it. You cum all over his fingers and he laughs, licking them clean. Hanma leans down and kisses you one more time before getting up and walking over to the door.

He opens it and calls out to his band mates, telling them to get the fuck out of his house. They groan in disappointment but leave anyway. Hanma shuts the front door and locks it. He takes off his clothes and you can see his hard cock bouncing between his legs. "Now ... I'm gonna do this properly."

You smile, taking off your shirt and pants. He walks over to you and kneels on the floor, spreading your legs open before diving right in. Hanma tongues your clit before licking up and down your slit. He dips his tongue inside and you gasp. He works his magic for a few minutes until you're begging him to fuck you. Hanma doesn't do what you ask, of course. He wants you to have the full experience. He eats your pussy like it's the last day the earth will rotate. He's so thorough.

You cum again on his mouth and he slurps up every last drop of it. You're ready for him to stop at any second, but he doesn't. No. He lets you ride out one of the best orgasms you have ever had on his lips and tongue until you're shaking and coming all over his face again. And when you're done, he stands up and gets on the bed, hovering above you.

He brushed his cock up against your twitchy hole until he had you begging for him to be inside of you. Your fingers grip his back, digging your nails in occasionally as he thrusts in and out of your soaking cunt. He moans and grunts as he thrusts into you harder and faster. Hanma's mouth is on yours again and then he's panting into your ear. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum." He groans. "Where do you want it ... where do you want me to cum, huh?"

The question threw you for a loop because you've never really been with anyone who has asked you before. "Ins-inside! Cum inside of me, Hanma!"

He laughed, "Call me Shuji, doll."

You pulled your lips from his and said, "Ok, cum inside of me, Shuji!"

His hips slapped against yours a few more times and he was spilling inside of your warmth.

"Fuck," he said. He collapsed on top of you and you ran your fingers through his hair. You felt his cock twitch inside of you and it made you shiver. Hanma moved and slid out of you, cum dripping onto the sheets. He got up and went to the bathroom, coming back with a towel for you to clean up.

You both lay there in a comfortable silence until he started playing with your hair. "So, did I change your life?" he asked. You turned to him, a smile on your face. "I, um, it was definitely the best pussy eating I've ever experienced. Did it change my life?" Your lips twisted to the side and you said, "I think I'll need you to run me through that a few more times before I can make a sound judgment call." He laughed and pulled the sheet over your head. "Oh, look. You're dead!" You giggled and let him kiss your cheek. It was the beginning of a beautiful, horny relationship.

(*Just kidding. Hanma is probably a real prick who doesn't love anyone but Kisaki. But a girl can dream!)

Roadies ::: @katkitkats @kazutora-kurokawa @arlerts-angel @viburnt @darkstarlight82

[harrypotterfuryroad]

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[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

I'm sorry I promise this is my last request for tonight but I am SOBBING laughing over the Etho Jester round, I don't even have a coherent story idea for this just more Etho Jester content please if you can spare it I can't BREATHE DHHFJDKS

god tht was the funniest round i've seen in such a long time, i hope i did that justice here lmfao

...

At the start of the round, Etho wanders around aimlessly outside the dropship for a while, before heading down to the left to see if he can find anyone. What he discovers is a body just inside the room underneath O2, but instead of reporting it, he just giggles and dances around the room, looking forward to having a little fun.

When Impulse shows up and gasps, Etho finally reports the body, still giggling like a child as the meeting starts and shows that Evil and Astro are both dead. “Okay, so I just saw Impulse kill Evil,” Etho says through his giggles.

“Oh, please!” laughs Impulse. “You know it wasn’t me. I just came up on the body and you were dancing around it like a madman.”

“I definitely saw Impulse kill Evil. He was like “Etho come over here so I can kill you” and I was like “no way, you’re the imposter!” and he was like “nobody will ever find your body” and I was like “you killed Evil, you monster!” and he was like-”

“Okay, so I think we’ve established that Etho is the jester,” Tango states, chuckling in confusion. “Right?”

“No no, I’m just a crewmate,” says Etho. “Don’t let Impulse get away with this or he’ll come kill me next!”

Impulse lets out a laugh. “Dude, I almost wish I COULD kill you. You’re being so weird.”

“If I’m being weird, it’s cuz I just watched you kill Endless- I mean Evil right in front of me.”

“Oh my god…”

“Okay, do NOT vote for Etho,” Tango says firmly, unable to stop grinning at his friend’s antics. “He’s 100% the jester and there’s no way I’m gonna hand him this win when he’s being like this.”

The meeting ends with nobody being voted off. Everyone leaves the room one by one, including Etho, who wordlessly follows Tango down to decontamination.

“What are you doing?” Tango asks warily.

“Just following my bestie cuz I know you’re innocent.”

Tango frowns. “Uh… okay…? Thanks…?”

Etho follows him all the way into the specimen room and hovers at an uncomfortable distance away from Tango, watching him silently as he does his task.

“Okay, Etho, you’re creeping me out, buddy,” Tango says slowly. “Can you back up a few steps and chill the hell out?”

“I can’t chill out; there’s no freezer on this map and I can’t get to the snow outside.”

“I…” Tango tries to find a reply to this but can’t. “Okay.”

Once he’s finished his two tasks in specimen, he heads back towards the office, followed again by Etho. The two go through decontamination and Tango heads down to the left, while Etho peels off into the meeting room and hits the button, bringing everyone to the meeting table. He finds himself looking at seven irritated faces.

“For the love of God, Etho, this better be good,” Tango says irritably.

Etho beams. “Hey, everybody! I missed you guys. Also, I saw Astro vent.”

A pause.

“Astro is dead, homie,” Skizz states. “Did you mean Joker, or…?”

“What?” Joker yelps. “Why me?”

“Cuz you’re both green. I dunno, I thought he might’ve just confused you two.”

“Nope, I definitely saw Astro vent,” says Etho happily. “And Tango definitely killed Evil last round.”

A pause.

“You- Didn’t you say it was Impulse who…?” Skizz blinks several times, his confused gaze darting from Etho to the others and back again. “I’m so confused!”

Tango bursts out laughing. “Etho, I have no idea what this is, but I both love it and hate it at the same time. I almost hope you’re NOT jester, cuz this is hilarious.”

“I’m a crewmate,” insists Etho.

“Uh huh, sure.”

At the end of the meeting, Skizz goes into the office to do the card swipe and finds Etho waiting for him. “You’re the jester, right?” Skizz asks warily. “Please tell me you’re the jester.”

Etho teasingly pokes Skizz in the arm. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

Skizz stares at him. “Boy, I really hope you are the jester cuz otherwise, you’ve totally lost your mind. Either that or you’re overplaying jester and you’re actually imposter.”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?” says Etho mischievously.

“Okay, I’m actually really nervous right now, cuz you’re definitely big-brain enough to fake being jester,” Skizz says nervously. “Please don’t kill me.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna kill you right here in broad daylight. Too risky.” He takes a step to the side and beckons. “Come down here so nobody will find your body.”

“Noooooo!” Skizz takes off running.

Giggling, Etho chases Skizz out of the room and up towards the laboratory, the latter screaming the whole way. They bump into Impulse just inside the corridor.

“Whoa, what’s going on?!” yelps Impulse.

Skizz hides behind Impulse. “Etho is being weird!”

“Impuuuuulse, go away!” whines Etho. “I’m tryina kill Skizzle.”

Impulse blinks. “Wh-What?”

Etho gives an innocent smile. “Stabby stabby!”

At that exact moment, a body is reported, and the three appear at the meeting table with everyone else.

“I saw Impulse kill Skizz right in front of me,” says Etho solemnly, before the person who reported the body can talk. “Impulse just walked in the door to O2 and murdered Skizz right in front of me.”

“Bro, I’m alive,” Skizz responds. “I’m not dead.”

“And we weren’t in O2, we were in lab,” Impulse adds.

“Oh.” Etho pauses. “Then I killed Skizz. In lab. Sorry, I got confused.”

Skizz stares at him with wide eyes. “I’m ALIVE, dude!” “Everyone else shut up,” snaps Brody suddenly. “Tango, you reported?”

Tango nods. “Yes, I found Endless’s body down in weapons.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot to mention I killed Endless in weapons,” Etho says happily.

Tango scowls at him. “Etho, I swear to God-.”

“Can’t we just vote him off and be done with this weirdness?” Skizz demands.

“No, I refuse to give the world’s most obvious jester the win,” responds Tango. “Imposters, whoever you are, if you kill Etho in front of me, I genuinely will not report.”

Etho pouts at him. “That’s very mean, Tango. I’m gonna tell the teacher on you.”

“I-.” Tango breaks off, unable to think of a response to this.

“Okay, does anyone have any actual information?” asks Brody. “If not, we’re on seven so we should skip.”

Nobody has any information, so the meeting again ends with nobody being voted off.

This time, Etho follows Brody out of the building and up towards electrical. Spotting this, Brody sighs and beckons Etho into security. “Okay, you’re the jester, right?”

“I might be the imposter,” says Etho with a grin. “Or I might not be.”

“I KNOW you’re not the imposter. Sorry, buddy, but you won’t be getting this win. You never were.”

With that, Brody whips out a knife and stabs Etho in the chest.

Etho drops to the ground without a word, watching Brody leave the scene of the crime, before letting his eyes close. It doesn’t matter that he’s not going to get this win. He had fun letting loose and being a little silly for once.

And that’s all that matters to him.

[charliejrogers]

The Trial of the Chicago 7 (Or, Sorkin’s attempt to show you how nothing has changed in 52 years)

If you know anything about Aaron Sorkin, the much-acclaimed writer/creator of television shows like The West Wing, The Newsroom, you know that subtlety is not his strong suit. So, I was rather hesitant going into his newest film, The Trial of the Chicago 7, the infamous trial of eight gentlemen accused of conspiracy to incite violence/rioting in Chicago during the notorious 1968 DNC riots. Without diving too deep into the history, August 1968 was not Chicago’s finest hour. When the protesters chanted as a warning to the police, “The Whole World Is Watching!”, they weren’t wrong. Years ahead of the 24-hour news cycle, people all across America (and across the world) were glued to the TV watching the Chicago police beat the ever-living snot out of young folks protesting the Democratic Party’s decision to support the ever-controversial war in Vietnam. The film’s subject matter is sure to draw parallels to and resonate strongly with both the protests and civil unrest that took place this past summer following the death of George Floyd and countless other Black folk at the hands of police. So despite it’s appropriate timeliness, I was hesitant to watch this movie because I really wasn’t interested in watching Aaron Sorkin (who not only wrote but directed this film) try to mansplain to me that the trial of the Chicago 7 was all about injustice! Without knowing anything else about the trial beforehand (and I really didn’t), I already knew it’s a famous case of injustice. I wanted to watch the movie to learn about the people, the humans involved, and the nuance of the situation.

The film gets off to a rough start in the nuance department. After an effective montage introducing us to six of the eight members of the Chicago 7 (we’ll get to why there’s that numerical discrepancy), we meet the character who will be the lead prosecutor of the case: a straight-laced, clean-cut lawyer played by Joseph Gordon-Levitt. In an attempt to plant the seed early on that the eponymous trial is a sham, the first real scene of the film sees Gordon-Levitt meeting with Nixon’s newly appointment Attorney General John Mitchell who is pissed off that the prior AG didn’t resign from the office until an hour before Mitchell was confirmed. As retaliation, and in line with history’s understanding of Nixon’s pathologic paranoia, Mitchell decides to re-open the case exploring whether there was any conspiracy to incite riots in Chicago 1968. As JGL explains, this was something which Johnson’s AG as well as prior FBI investigations already decided did was not a viable case. The conversation that ensues is a little too on-the-nose. JGL shares his concerns that he doesn’t believe that the Chicago 7 are actually guilty, but Mitchell tells JGL, “then imagine how impressed I’ll be when you get a conviction.”

Of course, this conversation is largely a Sorkin invention, as is the weird decision to try to humanize the prosecutor played by Gordon-Levitt. I say "weird" because the film doesn’t do anything with it. We don’t get a real sense beyond that initial scene that JGL feels guilt or remorse for being a cog in the Nixon machine. The beginning of the film sets him up to be a similar character to David Schwimmer’s fascinating turn as Robert Kardashian in The People vs. O.J. Simpson. But in the end, it’s clear that Sorkin uses him just as a way in the beginning of the film to provide the thesis statement for the film, as if he were writing this script as a college term paper. This bothers me so much because it makes a late-film surprise appearance by Michael Keaton as Johnson’s AG lose a good deal of its impact. It would have been so much better if we as the audience came to the same revelation about the political origin of the trial at the same time that the defense lawyers did.

Sorkin’s lack of subtlety reared its ugly head in a few key moments that caused me to audibly groan while watching this film. Towards the end of the film, one of the more dramatic defendants, the merry prankster hippie Abbie Hoffman (played very well by Sacha Baron Cohen), is on the stand and is asked a particularly difficult question by the prosecution. He pauses. The prosecution asks what’s taking so long. Hoffman responds in a serious tone that runs opposite of his usual character, “Sorry, I’ve never been on trial for my thoughts before.” The film then slowly fades to black. I half-expected to hear the famous Law & Order “chun-chunn” sound next. That’s how cheesy and self-righteous the scene was.

The film’s ending too, where the defendants read off a list of all the fallen soldiers from Vietnam prior to their sentencing, felt a little too Hollywood to be believable… and indeed it didn’t happen that way. Elsewhere in the film, one of the more “prim and proper” defendants, the young head of the Students for a Democratic Society Thomas Hayden played by Eddie Redmayne, reflexively stands in honor of the judge’s exit as is court custom, forgetting that he and the rest of the defendants agreed not to stand. That’s not the bad part. The bad part comes later when Redmayne’s character travels to someone’s home and the Black maid who answers the door says to him, “I heard you were the only one to stand for the judge,” and then the camera just sorta lingers on her disappointment. We get it! The judge is a bad dude! Let’s move on!

Seriously, let’s move on. For all my griping, this is a very good movie. Those instances where Sorkin’s moral heavy-handedness is plain to see are so glaring because for the most part, the movie does a fantastic job of addressing the film’s (sadly still) politically controversial themes (police brutality, the culpability of protesters in starting riots, systemic racism, etc.) with a good deal of nuance. This mostly happens when Sorkin just sticks to the facts of the case, like when dealing with the whole saga of Bobby Seale, the eighth and only Black man of the Chicago 7. The day before the trial begins, Seale's lawyer required emergent surgery. Seale’s motion to have the trial postponed till he receive proper counsel is denied, as is his request to represent himself. Therefore, on trial without counsel, he frequently interrupts the court arguing about the unconstitutional nature of his trial, until the judge, played to chilling perfection by Frank Langella, becomes fed up with the interruptions and orders that Seale be bound, gagged, and chained to his chair. It’s a crazy powerful and uncomfortable scene, among the most haunting images I’ve seen in cinema. Finally, Seale’s case is determined to be a mistrial, changing the number of defendants from eight to seven. Hence, the Chicago 7.

But, the most inspired sequence of the film comes late in the movie when the defense gets wind of the prosecution’s plan to play a recording from the night of the riots where the prim and proper Tom Hayden can be (arguably) heard urging hundreds of listeners to “let blood flow all over the city.” Tom still believes that he would do well on the witness stand, but his defense lawyer (Mark Rylance as William Kuntsler) insists on showing him why this would be a bad idea. The ensuing scene sees Rylance role play the part of the prosecution cross-examining Hayden while the film intercuts scenes of a flashback of the actual events. the “truth” of that night, significantly muddies the water for this case. It by no means proves that the Chicago 7 are guilty of a conspiracy, but it certainly highlights the more human aspect of their situation. How is one expected to keep their calm when their best friend is beaten? And to what degree are people to be held responsible for decisions made in the heat of the moment?

The movie also has also interesting commentary on who should be the “face” or progressive politics, even today: the well-to-do and respectable Hayden or the in-your-face hippie comedian Hoffman? It’s an interesting question that never seems fully explored or resolved. Sorkin seems to land in the camp that Hayden’s respectability merely maintains status quo whereas Hoffman’s flagrant anti-establishment views is required for real change. But I don’t know how much of that is me just loving Cohen’s performance as Hoffman and finding Redmayne’s Hayden to be (appropriately) insufferably pretentious. Sorkin certainly gives Cohen the better lines.

Overall, this is a movie held up by its two primary strengths: its cast and its film structure. Aside from general inconsistencies of the script’s tone and the notable weakness I mentioned previously about overplaying the political motivation for the trial in the film's first 5 minutes, the film is nearly perfectly structured. We are sort of dropped in medias res into the trial and only get the facts of those few days shown to us in carefully placed flashbacks that help to flesh out the drama of the trial. It helps maintain pacing in what could have been a drag of a legal drama. 

But really, it’s the cast and their performances that sell this movie. Sacha Baron Cohen is the star in my mind, so perfectly cast as Abbie Hoffman, but Frank Langella as the septuagenarian, prejudiced judge of the case is equally powerful. Yahya Abdul-Manteen II as the Black Panther Bobby Seale lends an air of desperate seriousness to the film, Eddie Redmayne shines as that white liberal dude who takes himself way too seriously, and Mark Rylance is wonderful as the courageous lead defense attorney, particularly in scenes dealing with Bobby Seale. While the whole trial weighs on him heavily as the film progresses, his genuine concern for Seale is palpable.

I spent much of this review telling you the things that were odd about this film, and I stand by that. But as I said, those things stand out because this is such a slick production that the cracks become that much more obvious. It largely avoids Sorkin’s penchant for blunt lack of nuance and offers a story that helps to greatly contextualize the very world we live in. It’s interesting that a story that sees ten men (including their lawyers) fail to win a fight against The Man still feels like an inspiring underdog tale. It resonated well with this viewer, especially as the ending makes clear that justice is eventually served. Yet, I recognize this may be a dangerous tale to tell these days, and why I think the movie is so successful is that it gives plenty of sobering evidence to suggest that justice (both then and now) is by no means guaranteed.

***/ (Three and a half out of four stars)

[visceraah]

The sound of music

(aka i’m so sorry for naming it after a musical it has nothing to do with dkjsdjksdjk names are hard)

My gift for @anianthe for @sanderssidesgiftxchange

Rating- Teen cause i’m incapable of not writing wayyy more swears then are necessary-

WC- 2947

Ship- Just Virgil interacting w the other sides,, feel free to interpret romantically if you want!

Warnings- not really any! Remus shows up briefly so.. beware of that. and ig Virgil is also kinda mean bUT he does it affectionately.

AO3

-

“We’re having a movie night!”

Virgil blinked. Took off his his headphones which, unfortunately, hadn’t been playing anything- he wore them out of habit, sometimes- meaning he heard everything his stupid best friend just said.

“No, we aren’t.”

Roman flopped down on his bed without waiting for any indication it was okay, something Virgil was all too used to. “We are now.”

Virgil sighed heavily and pushed Roman with his foot, trying to roll him off the bed. He didn’t budge. “And if I don’t want to?”

“Pleaseeee?” Roman employed the puppy dog eyes and Virgil knew already this was a losing battle. Ugh.

“I get to pick the movie.”

Roman perked up immediately, coming to sit next to him. “Yes! Okay! Just- Disney?”

Virgil rolled his eyes, wondering if Roman was capable of consuming content made by anyone else. He was beginning to doubt it. “Nightmare Before Christmas, then.”

“Predictable.” Roman murmured smugly, and he elbowed him.

“You want this movie night or not?”

“Okay, okay! I yield!” Roman cried, clutching his ribs. Virgil was pretty sure he was more upset at the prospect of a cancelled movie night then the ‘pain’ he was overplaying right now.

“Okay.” Virgil agreed, smugly, and set the movie on.

He’d seen it a million times already, which for most people would only make it boring by now- but Virgil found comfort in familiar things. Plus, that animation! He could happily watch it a million more times- and, honestly, probably would.

That meant he had it memorised, though, and soon enough he was singing along to the introduction under his breath. He listened along contently, until an unfamiliar third voice joined the chorus, and he startled, looking to the side. “Roman?”

Roman stared back, raising an eyebrow at him. “... Hi.”

“Were you singing along?”

Romans eyes flicked between Virgil and the screen, where the movie was still playing, in confusion. “Yes, Dr Gloom? Look, I know what a downer you love to be, but these pipes can’t stay closed all the time! They need exercise- and, the world deserves- neigh, needs to hear them!”

Virgil huffed at the dramatics, although it was fond. “I never said it was a problem, Sir Sing-a-lot, I’m just surprised.”

“One, that’s not an insult and I’m absolutely using that,” Roman retorted, “And two… It’s Disney! One of their best! Do you really expect me to not know the words?”

Virgil snorted, but he had to admit, he couldn’t disagree with that. “Whatever, nerd.”

Roman gasped, somehow seeming more upset than when Virgil had elbowed him. Of course that’d be what got to him. “I am not! I’m a prince- a very princely prince! Not-”

“Whatever you say, prince of the nerds.” Virgil hummed out, smirking to himself. Maybe Roman bursting in out of nowhere wasn’t so bad… This time. He still hated surprises and would not be convinced to do this again. He said that every time

-

Being Romans best friend, unfortunately, had its side effects. One was unplanned, unannounced Disney marathons he had no choice but to roll with. Another was actually listening to his musicals so often he learned to like them, too.

For all he said about Hamilton being overrated (and Romans reaction was priceless every time), he had to admit it was good. A little fast for him to keep with, but he rarely sang along to his songs anyway, preferring to hum quietly unless he was really in the mood.

He liked keeping his music to himself, too- he didn’t want to annoy anyone, so he always wore headphones- but sometimes he just wanted to drown the world out, and they went to full volume. Worked a treat to drown everyone out, but plenty audible to everyone else in the room. Sometimes, though, they’d just have to live with it.

Today was one of those days, where Virgil didn’t want to speak to anybody and had the volume to show it. He was playing one of Princeys musicals, too, humming along to ‘my shot’ no matter how different it was to his normal taste. He nodded in acknowledgement as he passed Logan on his beeline for the fridge, planning on grabbing the easiest and least healthy snack possible.

Retreating with his bag of marshmallows in hand- he was pretty sure they weren’t meant to be in the fridge, but they were imaginary, so maybe nothing needed to go in the fridge. Holy shit.

He pulled the headphones back, opening his mouth to ask Logan's opinion, when he heard a sound that made him freeze in his tracks.

Logan was rapping along to himself. And well. Jesus, how had he forgotten about that? He stared, still in disbelief, and Logan awkwardly trailed off when he noticed his gaze. “Ah, you could hear me.”

“Yeah, I just wanted to ask… Doesn’t matter. Holy shit, Lo, you’re amazing.”

Logan flushed slightly, looking down at the table. “I simply have an appreciation of the genre, and Hamilton has some particular, uhm- how would you say? ‘Bangers’.”

Virgil laughed, slipping into the seat opposite him and taking the headphones off completely. “Dude, I’ve spent enough time with Roman to know having an ‘appreciation’ doesn’t mean you can pull something off.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly fighting back a smile. “I am not sure he’d appreciate you saying that.”

“Eh, I’ve said it to his face before- and will again.” Virgil dismissed, feeling his lips turn up as well. “Why don’t you do it more?”

Logan shrugged, adjusting his glasses awkwardly. “It is hardly a logical skill for me to have, so it simply… Hasn’t come up.”

“Ro doesn’t need an excuse for songs to ‘come up’ before he starts singing them.” Virgil pointed out, and Logan chuffed.

“No, he certainly doesn’t. But we are different people.”

Virgil laughed, nodding. “You could say that again.”

“Oh. Alright, we are differen-”

“It’s an expression, dude. Come on.” Virgil interrupted, sounding nothing but fond as Logan widened his eyes in realisation.

“A highly illogical one, but alright. I can add it to my flashcards to avoid further confusion.” He decided, pulling out his deck there and then to add to. He paused when he heard the crackling of a plastic bag pulled open, looking up as Virgil helped himself to a marshmallow. “Please do not tell me you intend on consuming that entire bag.”

“Maybe.” Virgil held it out, grinning now. “Want one?”

“A key ingredient is gelatin, created by boiling down a pig or cows bones, skin, ligaments or tendons.” Logan deadpanned, and Virgil almost threw the whole bag away in disgust before he remembered,

“But they’re imaginary!”

Logan titled his head. “I suppose so.”

“Actually, I was thinking…” Virgil began, curious about how the fridge actually worked. Soon enough Logan was in a full-fledged rant about mindscape food, and half of it went over his head, but he didn’t mind listening. It was interesting, after all.

-

Whatever concerns Virgil had about not bothering anyone with his music, the other sides didn’t share them. Roman didn’t hesitate to sing whatever came to mind as it came to mind, offering full renditions of his favourite musical tracks daily, Logan could be heard humming to himself as he worked, Remus had no restraint about… Anything, really, and this was no different, Janus wasn’t exactly considerate, and Patton- Patton was the worst at all.

He wandered the mindscape belting out whatever was in his head at the moment which, as a father figure, was always old, tacky, and bad. They’d learned to ignore it for the most part, but some of the songs he played… Some of them were just unforgivable. And, sitting on the couch as Patton tidied up a little, Virgil had left himself completely at their mercy.

“JOLENE-”

Virgil pulled his hoodie over his ears, wishing he’d brought his headphones. Or just not left his room. “Please, no.”

“Jolene, Jolene, Joleeeeeeeene, I’m begging of you please don’t take my man-”

“Pain, Padre. This is causing me physical pain.” Virgil groaned, slamming his head back in an attempt to make it all stop. Unfortunately, the sofa was soft, and he just bounced back. Eurgh.

“Awh, cmon kiddo! I’m just singing. You could always join me.” Patton chirped, rearranging the same jar for the fourth time in three minutes.

“I might die.” Virgil deadpanned, staring Patton dead in the eyes, and he giggled.

“Don’t be silly… Come on, my music isn’t that bad!”

Virgil couldn’t quite believe his ears. Maybe they were still bleeding from being subjected to Dolly Parton. “You listen to dad music.”

“Well, yeah, but what else did you expect from your pops-”

Virgil groaned louder, shaking his head. “I- whatever. When’d you even start listening to country music?”

“Nico likes it!” Patton replied, brightly, and Virgil bristled.

“That’s it, Thomas has to break it off.”

It took Patton a second to recognize Virgil was joking, and he started laughing. “Don’t be so judgy! I listen to your music- in fact, I quite like being cautious in the disco.”

“Oh my god.” Virgil pulled his hood down further over his eyes, the secondhand embarrassment hitting him full force. “You’re so old.”

“Now, I know I’m no spring chicken, but that’s hardly a nice thing to say-”

“We are all the same age.” Logan interjected as he walked through the room, gone before Virgil could try and drag the only other sane one around him to his aid.

“Look, Patt- I love you, but Dolly is too far.” Jesus, Virgil was spending too much time with Roman. Dramatic ultimatums weren’t his style at all.

“... How about Country Roads?”

“Jesus Christ.” Virgil sunk further back into the sofa, hoping it’d just swallow him and his smile.

-

“I wanna play a song.”

“Get your own headphones.”

“But yours are so loud, they’re basically speakers! You ever turn them up to full volume while they’re on? How loud are they? Oooh, reckon they could rupture your eardrums so blood would bubble out your ears and trail down your face-”

“Stop.” Virgil interrupted with a grimace, before Remus’ imagination could go anywhere gorier. They’d been at this for ten minutes and his answer hadn’t wavered once. “It’s a no, alright? Just… Go away.”

Remus huffed loudly and dropped onto the sofa next to Virgil. Great. “What do you want?”

“Hmmm… Oh, I can do a list!” Remus declared, and before Virgil could tell him please, god, don’t, he was off. “A pony- to disembowel so I can use its guts for ritual purposes, that one dick in a Russian erotica museum they claim is Rasputins and has magical fertility powers, for Barry Bee Benson to be real so I can fu-”

“Alright!” Virgil shuddered and disconnected his headphones. He didn’t know what Remus wanted to do with a literal bee, and he liked it that way. “There.”

Remus grinned a grin with far too many teeth, just a little too sharp, and Virgil rolled his eyes, waiting for whatever monstrosity he was about to hear.

 There’s some whores in this house, there’s some-

“You did not just play WAP!” Virgil punched Remus in the arm, pulling his headphones off “You- I swear to God, don’t do the dance.”

Remus was already halfway stood up and Virgil quickly pulled him back down. He’d never wanted Remus to stay sat next to him more in his life. (To be fair, it wasn’t something he felt often.)

“But I already know it!”

“Of course you do.” Virgil grumbled, glancing over at Remus. “Why do you have to play… This, up here?”

“Jannie’s kicked me out, you know how he is.”

Virgil blinked at him, regretting what he was about to say before the words even left his mouth. “If I get him to back off, will you keep your music to the dark side?”

“That’s not fun, though! Ooh, wait, Logan likes rap, doesn’t he? Reckon he’d like to see the dance?”

Virgil stared at Remus blankly. “Please, say that was a joke.”

“It wasn’t! If you wanna hear one, though… Ooh, ok. Two kids walk into a hospice- ”

“No.” Virgil interrupted again, although even he had to snort a little at how ridiculous it was. Even if it was also deeply, deeply twisted. “I- look, I’m gonna do it.”

Remus tilted his head further then looked natural. Virgil was pretty sure he heard a crack. “Thought you hated me and Double Dee.”

“I- I’m just doing this for my sanity, alright? And Logans.” Virgil snapped back, avoiding meeting his eyes.

Avoiding things didn’t work with Remus, though, and soon enough he was uncomfortably close, peering right at Virgil with that unsettling grin. “Awww, Purps is being nice to us.”

“Shut up.” Virgil hissed, sinking out before Remus could pry any further. Creativity was so pushy, Jesus.

-

Virgil shuddered. He hadn’t been in the dark side of the mindscape in years and, after so long of the bright upstairs, the dark walls felt a little claustrophobic. He just needed to make this quick.

He strode down the hallway, trying to squash the growing nervousness in his stomach. What was the worst that could happen?

… Literally the worst thing he could’ve asked himself, he realised, speeding up subconsciously. So much could go wrong, while he was down here, and he didn’t even know where Deceit was, what if he tripped and fell and broke something and nobody would-

Piano, faint, made him stop in his tracks.

He wasn’t really an expert in classical music, but this had to be one of the more famous pieces, because he’d definitely heard it before. It was good, though, Mozart or something. Pretty difficult, too.

Exactly the kind of pretentious shit Deceit would play, and kick Remus out to enjoy. (Although Virgil couldn’t really blame him for that second part). Emboldened now he knew he wasn’t alone, and could make some jokes about what a snob he was, Virgil entered the room the sound was coming from.

He paled, because in front of him sat Deceit. At a piano. Playing the song.

“Since when do you play.”

Deceit only glanced up at Virgil, the melody smooth even with the interruption. He hated to admit it, but it was impressive. “Things have been quiet. I had time.”

“Quiet? With Remus?”

“I made things quiet.” Deceit amended, shrugging nonchalantly. Knowing him, it had probably been meant to sound as murder-y as it did. Didn’t stop Virgil from shuddering, anyway, serving as the perfect reminder of just how desperately he wanted to leave.

“Alright, look- whatever plan or plot this is, or is covering up, I don’t care.”

Deceit sighed, looking up at Virgil without faltering the music once. Jesus, he actually was good. “You’re right, I’m incapable of having any interests whatsoever without there being some deep, sinister plot behind it. You’ve spotted my evil plan.”

“I- alright, sarcasm’s meant to be for something obviously not true! That could be true!” Virgil protested, already feeling like he was losing this.

Deceit just raised an eyebrow at him in response, and Virgil instinctively hissed back, feeling more and more like he was backed into a corner.

Deceit had the nerve to laugh at him. “It’s been a while since you’ve done that.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve had to talk to anyone so- so-” Virgil groaned, glaring at Deceit. “Stop playing that stupid thing, would you?”

“Alright.” Deceit agreed, and Virgil waited. He kept waiting. The piano continued and after an excruciating minute of listening for an end, he cursed. Why had Virgil assumed he’d be honest?

“Dick.”

“That is my legal name.” Deceit agreed dryly, and Virgil rolled his eyes. He was impossible to talk to.

“Look, just let Remus back down. He’s probably scarring Logan as we speak.”

Deceit smiled at the thought, looking back down at the keys as he played them. “I never said he couldn’t be down here. Oh, and I’m sure there’s /nothing/ about ‘scarring’ Logan that could’ve appealed to him.”

“What, so Remus lied?” Virgil crossed his arms. Remus was plenty of things, but one of them was painfully, brutally, upfront and honest. “That’s your thing.”

“Not lied.” Deceit tutted, like scolding a child for not knowing something they should have. Virgil clenched his fists. “Just… Was dramatic.”

Virgil tried to figure out what he meant before realising it meant literally nothing, and he glared at Deceit. “Stop being so cryptic for five seconds and tell me, Jesus.”

“I wasn’t aware you cared about him so much.” Deceit smirked, and Virgil threw his arms up in exasperation.

“I’m trying to get rid of him!”

Deceit snickered but finally, mercifully, seemed to have already had his fun. “I didn’t tell him to get out if he couldn’t just be quiet and not…” His smile faltered… “Dance on the piano.”

Yeah, that expression was priceless. Virgil laughed as Janus furrowed his eyebrows. “What?”

“Just… Nevermind.” Virgil was pretty sure imagining that scene playing out was enough entertainment to last him weeks. And a reminder that honestly… Remus didn’t cause as much chaos as he gave him credit for. He was all bark… And plenty of bite, too, but nothing too permanent. “Keep playing, or whatever.”

“You aren’t going to demand I fetch the Duke?”

“He’s not a dog.” Virgil dismissed, resisting a smile at Deceit’s murmured ‘ehhhhh’. “He’ll come back when he wants to. And Logan can look after himself.”

“Amazing.” Deceit sighed heavily. “You wasted my time for nothing, then.”

Virgil could be proud of that, at the very least. He grinned in way of response, sending Deceit a nod before he sunk out.

[maximumkillshot]

Disposable-Part III

Warnings: Angst, Descriptions of violence towards children, Darkness, Pain, Just really fucked up, descriptions of torture, hints of sexual assault (you really have to squint at it),

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Characters: Abbadon!Dean Winchester(Abbadon in Dean’s form), Sam Winchester, Reader, OMC Demon Lykeonel, Reader, Dean Winchester, 

A/N: Dude, this one hurts, I’m sorry... I really really am.... But also, this may lead to something good... I have no clue, enjoy!

“All I Could Do” Masterlist- CLICK HERE

Overall Masterlist- Click Here

“When You Call” Masterlist- Click Here

“The Situation” Masterlist- Click Here

*********

Dean’s POV:

It’s been four months. Four months since I heard her laugh, seen her smile. I can’t find it in me to do much of anything these days. Everything reminds me of her. 

Rowena hasn’t left. She’s been trying to help me, making potions to help me sleep, ones that would only give me good dreams, since all I see when I close my eyes is me lowering my wife into the ground. 

I was in the kitchen when I heard someone yell from the war room.

"MOOSE! SQUIRREL!" 

"Crowley?" Sam exclaimed as I walked into the room to find him sitting there with a whiskey in hand....

"Either of you boys mind telling me how exactly I'm alive? WHAT DID YOU TWO IDIOTS DO?"

“Fergus?!"

"Oh Lord not now mother!"

"Oh thank heaven's you're back" Rowena ran into the room and hugged him as his eyes rolled. 

As soon as she pulled back she smacked him, "How dare you go and grow a heart, Fergus!? I thought that you were dead!"

"To be quite honest mother, anything is better than being hugged by you..."

"Oh hush Fergus"

“Everything woke up four months ago when God decided to start another apocalypse, after he killed Jack, the nephelim Kelley was pregnant with. What the hell took you so long?” I asked as I crossed my arms….

“You wouldn’t believe where I woke up… That hellscape that I stupidly sacrificed myself to get you boys out of.” Crowley looked around, “And as you know, Feathers was here with you so it wasn’t exactly easy to open a rift.”

"Apoligies for the late arrival... And where's Little Swan? I missed her.." Crowley commented as he looked around the room.

That was his name for Y/N.. My eyes welled up with tears...

"Squirrel... Where's Y/N?" He could tell by the look on my face, on everyone's faces.

"She's gone, Crowley." Sam weakly replied.

"Gone where? Call her, I want to see her" He said, thinking nothing of it.

"No she's gone gone.”

"WHAT HAPPENED?" He exclaimed, "What killed her? Whatever it is consider it dead..."

"Azazel"

Crowley cocked his head to the side, "I thought you boys killed him."

"You weren't the only one that woke up Crowley." I responded.

"And here I was thinking I was someone special." His eyebrows shot up sarcastically. “Where is she… her soul, Feathers find it yet?” 

“No, we’ve been looking ever since she…” I couldn’t finish the sentence.

“I may have an idea where she is…” Crowley smirked.

“Where?” I asked.

“Where can an angel never go and most hunters end up, Squirrel?” He said matter of factly ...He turned around saying, “I’ll be back boys…” “And where are you going?” I growled out. “He turned back around and said, “To get my throne…” Then he disappeared.

“Selfish bastard” I grumbled under my breath and Rowena glared at me. 

I smiled and said “I mean yayy your son’s back.”

“Don’t give up on Fergus so easily, Dean. You never know what my boy has up his sleeve.” Rowena smirked. ‘Would you hold your breath?” 

“Well…”

“Exactly… Where’s the whiskey?” I asked as I grabbed the bottle and began to walk out. “Dean? What are you doing?” Sam asked.

“Like I said, Sammy, not holding my breath.”

I slammed the door to my room shut. 

________________________

Crowley POV:

“Y/N Y/N Y/N” I repeated to myself as I walked up the stairs to my throne, “what have you gotten yourself into now?” 

I went to the low level demon, Lykeonel. He was the one in charge when no one was on the throne, which he was now sitting on. I yelled, “Aye! I never gave you permission to sit in my chair.”

“Cr-Crowley, you you’re…”

“The opposite of dead, yes. Now get the hell offa my chair.”

He scurried off of my chair and I said, “Send out the word will you… I’m back.”

He nodded furiously but before he left I asked, “Any new hunters come in?”

“Yes… A Winchester, courtesy of Azazel. Was a shame we couldn’t get the triplets since the Angel took them before we could grab them.”

“Triplets?And what angel?” I asked.

“Yes, she’s Dean’s wife, was knocked up and didn’t even know it until minutes before she was killed in front of the brothers. As for the angel, Castiel, he chose to save the children and not Y/N. I don’t know why he didn’t save her too…”

I hid my disgust well but I was aching inside for the poor Swan. She never deserved any of this. “And how many years has her hell been?” I asked.

“150 years.”

“With who?”

“Abbadon” “And she isn’t a demon yet? How?” I asked perplexed. She lasted longer than either of the boys, how?

“She keeps on saying that she’d never hurt anyone, rather being taking up the room on the rack so Abbadon won’t torture anyone else.”

“Ughh Winchesters are so noble.” I said with mock disgust. “You know I think I’ll pay the Winchester a visit.” I chuckled.

When the demon scurried away I got up off the throne and almost ran towards Abbadon’s racks, “Don’t worry little Swan… I’ll be there shortly.”

As soon as I reached Abbadons section I heard her, “What part of ‘fuck you’, do you not get?” She screamed.

“Oh you will, Y/N… you will.” I heard what sounded like Dean in response.

“You are a son of a bitch you know that.”

“Oh please, Baby. I’m your son of a bitch.”

“Get your hands off of me! No… not again, Get the fuck off of me, Dean!” I heard her scream, on the borderline of weeping. 

“There it is… who am I?” I heard him seethe.

“Dean… stop… please” I heard her breaking down.

“Well if you won’t cooperate, then someone has to pay…”

Then I heard children’s voices…. he can’t be doing this to her. 

I heard him again, “do it, Sammy”

She responded in shreaks, “No! Dean, they’re our kids, they had nothing to do with this please!”

I heard a little girls voice crying , “Uncle Sammy… why do you have a knife? Are you gonna cut mommy down?”

I rounded the corner just in time to see a demon in Sam’s form stabbing the little girl, her eyes brimming with tears as she screamed, “Uncle Sammy stop!!! Daddy! Mommy! Tell Uncle Sammy to stop!” 

I was frozen in horror as I looked at the scene, Y/N was hung on the rack, her shoulders dislocated, meat hanging off of her like a butchered animal. Her face cut to all Hell but her mouth in tack to scream… and scream she did…

“Sammantha!!!! No!! Dean, stop Sammy why are you just standing there?! Dean!”

Then Dean turned to her and said, “you’re right….” as he grabbed a machete, “too many kids for one guy to kill.” 

He went to grab another child and I couldn’t see anymore of it… “Abbadon!” I yelled, “that’s enough! Didn’t anyone teach you not to play with your food?” I tried to cover the utter pain in my voice as I looked at the little girl,eyes like her father, but hair and face like her mother, blood running out of her mouth, along with her tears.

“Crowley get me down! My kids, Crowley, please!” Y/N begged, practically ripping her own arm off to free herself.

“This is an illusion, Little Swan, it's all an illusion meant to hurt you.” I stated simply.

This Dean frowned, “You had to ruin the fun, didn’t you, Crowley?” 

The gruesome scene faded away and Y/N was confused, who could blame her.

“Oh c’mon, killing her children in front of her, that’s a little overplayed isn’t it?” I questioned.

“Not when she screams like that…”

He took a break and walked towards her, “ you should’ve seen when I used her… took what I wanted… still fighting for no reason, I could smell the fear on her...that's some good torture.”

He turned to me, “ It’s good to see you up and awake.” Abbadon then said absent mindedly, “now if you don’t mind I have a Winchester to torture for eternity.”

“Fun’s over Abbadon.” I retorted.

“What?” He questioned…

“She is mine now.” I responded harshly.

“You are back for 5 seconds and you're already claiming souls…no way crossroads boy, you’ve got work for this cutie,” he said as he forced Y/N’s lips to his.

“Abbadon…” I snickered, “I came back from another universe to rule… and believe me...the journey wasn’t pleasant… so give me the girl… before I lose my temper.”

 “You think I give a shit about your temper?” Abbadon laughed, “This is my soul, Azazel sent her to me to do whatever I please, Crowley. I don’t care how pissy you are… she’s mine.”

“Not anymore,” I interrupted, “I’ve always wanted a Winchester as a pet.” I said as I walked up to her and touched what was left of her face, “and this one, is actually pretty, even when she’s ripped apart.”

“Well see, that sounds like a ‘you’ problem and less of a ‘me’ problem.” 

“There is no problem, because she’s mine now, Abbadon. You had her for 150 years. I’d call that more than enough time to have your fun.” I said as I snapped my fingers, immediately she was healed, and I unhooked her from the rack.

“Crowley, you can’t take her!” Abbadon screamed.

“Watch me! And if you try to stop me… let’s just say I have a rack with your name on it. And you know how cruel I can be, don’t you, Abbadon?” I seethed. With that Abbadon backed off and I hooked Y/N up to a chain, leading her out of the racks and into the throne of Hell.

I took her behind the throne, through a labyrinth of halls and I finally stopped at my sleeping quarters. As soon as the doors closed I ripped the chains off of her and tilted her head up, “Little Swan? You alright? Talk to me darling,” I stared into her eyes, analyzing her soul, well, what was left of it. 

She just  looked at me and said, “don’t let Dean near me.” She started trembling.

“Swan, that wasn’t Dean, all of that wasn’t him, that was Abbadon taking his form. He knew it’d hurt you. You remember the real Dean don’t you?” I questioned as I sat her down, draping my jacket over her bare chest.

“My husband, he slept with women...only way he could deal with the pain… then he came down here with Sammy , they both… they did things to me… beyond torture, Crowley… I told them to get off of me…. but they wouldn’t, then they killed my kids… over and over again.” She started to cry half way through.

“Swan all of it…. everything that’s happened over these years… they are lies. And they feel real, I know better than anyone that they do. It feels so real that it tears you apart, I know. I also know that you have no reason to believe me right now. Not even one, but you need to understand that you are in Hell… these last 150 years have really been 4 months. Abbadon accelerated your Hell, to do more to you… to break you, Swan. He wants you to hate Dean, despise him, his brother too. I talked to Dean, he looks worse than you feel, darling. I can tell by the full on lumberjack beard and putrid smell of booze offa him… he has never touched another woman, he has never dealt with the pain because he isn’t him without you. He most definitely never EVER came down here and the same goes for Moose.”

“How are you here? I saw you die.” She questioned defiantly…

“There’s the Y/N I know.” I said as I got her a drink and brought it back to her.

“I wondered the same thing when I woke up in the apocalypse world. It took me months in that hellscape to find a way to get back. When I did I knew I needed to find the loveable idiots that probably caused my awakening,” I looked to her cautiously as she listened intently, not touching the drink I made.

“They filled me in… about Kelley’s child… Jack was his name they told me.” I saw a tear roll down her eyes…

 Her voice shook, “Jack? He… he called me Mom… my son… my boy…” she looked to me, “Jack, is he alive?!” Her head perked up, hoping for any news, anything good.

I shook my head ‘no’ and she deflated, I continued, “I’m sorry for your loss…” I continued recalling the memory of how I found out about her, “ then I asked for you… I missed you most, my Little Swan.” I said as I petted her matted hair back, “Squirrel couldn’t even say it… what happened to you… the minute I heard I came back to get you.”

She looked at me, tears filled her eyes, “ had I known sooner, Y/N… had I known anything,  I would’ve been here sooner, but you’re safe now.” I wiped the tears as they fell, the blood mixing with them, “I’ll find a way to get you outta here. But first, let’s get you cleaned up, that sound alright?” 

“This is real? You’re really helping me?” She asked, looking like a child.

“Yeah… yeah I am, love.” I assured her, “can you stand? How many times have you been off the rack?” I asked.

“Three times, only for a few minutes, then I was hung back up again.” 

I winced at that. That was a trademark of Abbadon, he’d hang the souls up… just leave them there, dangling until they are almost unconscious, then he’d torture them to wake them up. He’d repeat that over and over again.

Her soul is mangled. Chunks permanently missing, if she does go topside, she won’t survive. This is worse than Moose when he didn’t have a soul… Hers is diseased, but I can’t tell her that. 

I looked at her again, “I’ll have someone bring you clothing.”

She froze in fear as she said, “Don’t leave me, Crowley, what if Abbadon comes back?”

“He knows that if he were to touch you again, he will be on my hooks. And he knows better than anyone, I am not forgiving when it comes to torture.”

“What happens after that?” She asked me.

“We’ll find a way to get you topside.”

Her voice quaked as she muttered, “Okay.”

While she got cleaned up I got her new clothing arranged and made sure she was comfortable when she got out. 

“Ok, Swan. I’m going to go up top, see how we can get you home, okay?” I said as I petted her hair back. She nodded and when I came back up I was full of anger…

She didn’t deserve this and Castiel had a choice in saving her and the children or just  the children. He chose the children…

********

I appeared in the bunker and I yelled, “Castiel!”

Dean stumbled into the room, empty whiskey bottle in hand. 

“What are you doing here, Crowley…” he growled.

“There’s something you need to know.” I said as Castiel poofed in.

Castiel uttered,“Crowley.”

I turned to him, anger boiling over,“You had a choice to make… Save Y/N and the triplets would live with her, or just save the triplets…” I began to seethe.

Deans eyebrows turned down, “Cass, what’s he talking about?”

“You had the power to save them all, but you only chose the triplets… why?” I asked.

“It wasn’t as simple as you think Crowley.” Castiel said.

“Oh come on!” I yelled, “Seems pretty simple to me… You let her die! You watched her, buried her! When you could’ve saved her...WHY?!” I screamed.

“Cass…” I heard Dean’s voice crack, “Cass… tell me it’s not true.”

Cass turned his head down, “I… I had no other choice.”

. 

I shoved Castiel, “The only right choice was to save her! It’s simple, Castiel… If you would’ve seen her! The fear, the pain! You could’ve stopped it, saved her!” 

I was filled with rage as I said, “She was tortured by Abbadon for 150 years in the form of her husband and brother-in-law! She was ripped apart by the people she loved most because of you!”

Dean looked like he was going to pass out, completely glassy eyed and confused… “Castiel, what did you do?”

Castiel looked to Dean and said, “I did it to save you, to protect you, all of you.”

“Cass, what did you do?!” Dean screamed.

“Chuck… he… he gave me a choice, he resurrected Azazel and Abbadon. He told me what was going to happen, and that I had to make a choice, let Y/N die and close Hell’s gates, or… save them all and doom the world…”

I looked disgusted at Castiel, “And you call yourself an Angel of the lord.”

Dean screamed, “YOU HAD NO RIGHT TO MAKE THAT DECISION CASS!”

Sam ran into the room, hearing his brother yell. 

Castiel looked hurt as he said, “Dean we were drowning in tortured souls! What else was I supposed to do?”

Dean yelled, “You damn well weren’t supposed to let my wife and children die!”

Dean started tearing up, his face broken into fragments of who he was, “I…. I chose YOUR SON… over EVERYTHING! And you LET MY WIFE and MY CHILDREN DIE!” 

“Dean…” Cass tried to speak but Dean interrupted.

Dean yelled,“NO! The choice should’ve been clear. We can deal with everything else, this wasn’t our first apocalypse! You should’ve saved them all, Castiel! My wife included!”

“Dean..”

“Get out…”

“What?” Castiel looked confused,

“Get out! You are dead to me… you hear me?! I will never see my children’s faces because of you… and my wife will never be the same…. I will never be the same so get the Hell out!” he screamed.

As soon as Castiel vanished Dean turned to me and asked the question I was hoping he could answer, “How do we get Y/N back?”

___________________________

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[marveldc-imagines-hub]

Ice Packs (Wade Wilson x Reader)

A/N: This is one of the many non-requested pieces I’ve had in my drafts forever, and I was recently really drawn to finally writing the piece. It ended up taking a different turn than I expected, but I’m really proud of how in 

Warnings for swearing and some sexual humor because, duh, it’s Deadpool aaaaaannnd a little bit of angst maybe. Is this considered angst? I don’t know. Also, minor Deadpool 2 spoilers (mention of Cable, Domino, and the events regarding Vanessa) but Deadpool 2 spoilers nonetheless; this piece takes place after it.

Anyway, enjoy!

~~~

Tapping on the window of your (number) floor apartment drew your attention away from the evening activity you were pursuing. Upon further inspection--turning your head a few degrees to the right in order to peer out said window--you felt yourself relax as you recognized the white-eyed, masked face looking back at you.

“Hold on a sec, Wade--I mean Deadpool.” You hummed softly as you sat your things aside. Pulling the plush blanket draped over your shoulders closer against your person, you stood and shuffled over to the window. With the suited and warm-bodied antihero leaning close to the glass, probably to keep himself from falling down the apartment building’s side, the glass panes were becoming increasingly foggy.

“Heya, [Y/N]!” Wade greeted, tumbling through the window after you opened it. Now that he was in a lighted area, you noticed darker patches of red on his bodysuit, which was scuffed and torn in places. Still, despite his looks the smell of dirt and blood that clung to him, the behind-the-mask, avocado-looking man seemed cheerful enough.

That is, until he made his way to your couch, walking stiffly and softly grunting every couple of steps.

Immediately, your brows furrowed in confusion and worry. You had been friends with Wade long enough that he had incredible healing abilities and, even if he was in pain, he rarely showed as much.

“Wade, are you okay?”

“Hey, hey, hey!” The antihero, despite his currently distressed situation, was at your side in moments, tugging you against him and covering your mouth with a gloved hand. With comically shifty eyes in every direction, he continued, “The mask isn’t off, little troublemaker! Anyone could hear and figure out my secret identity!”

You rolled your eyes and swatted the undoubtedly dirty glove off away from your face. Using the sleeve of your sweater to scrub your face clean from any possible grime, you replied, “I’m the only one here, nutjob. Don’t contaminate me with your filth, jackass.”

Wade--Deadpool--gasped softly and placed an oh so delicate hand over his chest, feigning hurt. “You’ve wounded my soul, [Y/N].” After a moment of waiting for a reaction that wouldn’t come, he dropped the act and, chuckling, agreed. “Yeah, that fight was brutal. You’re probably right not to touch me.”

“Seriously, though, Livepuddle, what’s wrong?” Watching him continue his hobbling to your couch, despite the fact that you had just told him to stop his contamination, you were filled with concern again. Perhaps his healing abilities had disappeared somehow?

“Oh, yanno--” He waved his hand dismissively as he plopped onto the couch and stressed across it. “--just a little stiff after war. I may have been impaled once or a few times, and not in the fun way. Also, it’s Livingpuddle. If you’re going to insult my shitty superhero title, at least do it right.”

“Same difference, ballsack-lookin’ dipshit.” Sitting on the nearby end table’s edge, you tried to steer the conversation back to the topic of your concern, “Normally, that’s not enough to make you groan and hobble a drunk old dude. Seriously, Wade, what’s going on? Did you lose your healing or something? Is it bad?”

The blank eyes of the Deadpool mask shifted slightly as Wade glanced over your concerned face. After a moment, he sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Dammit, [Y/N], why’d you have to do those sad eyes? You know I hate sad eyes. I don’t deserve sad e--” The man stopped in the middle of the phrase and jerked his head to seemingly stare at the wall in which the window he had climbed in was occupied. “Hey! Stop listening to 500 Miles by The Proclaimers when you’re writing something heartfelt and sad! At least listen to Cher or something!”

“Wade, now’s not the time for your weird, out of body bullshit,” you grumbled. You had been friends with him long enough to have witnessed these many of these strange, loud monologues; therefore, they weren’t very surprising but they could certainly be annoying when you were trying to have a serious conversation.

“I’ll admit, that song has a good twang to it but it’s way overplayed.”

You couldn’t tell whether that comment was in reply to you, or if he was still having an imaginary argument. In mild frustration, you reached out to grab his wrist, in hopes of also grabbing his attention once again--

Only to have him hiss slightly and yank his arm away.

The two of you shared a wide-eyed look, yours of surprise and his of… Well, you couldn’t be sure. As the realization of situation donned on you, you retracted your hand and instead rested it in your lap with it’s twin.

“Is it the cancer?” you asked softly.

Yet another soft grunt escaped mask-covered lips as Wade looked away and gently squeezed the wrist you had tried to grab.

You gave him time to choose his words and, eventually, he spoke again, “Sometimes it hurts. A lot. Especially after regenerating and healing, it gets really bad in places. The pain from a fight isn’t s bad.”

“I’m so sorry, Wade.”

“Don’t be. I don’t need the pity.”

“It’s not pity, it’s empathy.”

“I don’t deserve any of it.”

Thick silence bloomed again in the dim light of your apartment living room, and you leaned back on your hands as you tried to think up a way to help your friend. Slowly, an idea formed.

“I’ll be fine,” Wade murmured after a few more minutes of gruesome silence.

“What if we numb it out of you?” you thought aloud in response.

Even with the mask covering the antihero’s face, you could tell his eyes were glittering with a dark humor. “What? With death or alcohol and drugs? Maybe all three?” Then the humor lightened a bit, and you could vaguely see the grin and wiggling of eyebrows behind red fabric. “Or maybe another, more physical activity?”

“Shut up and undress, Wade.” You hopped up from the end table and walked towards the kitchen, hyperfocused on your fridge.

“Hah, fourth time’s the charm!” Wade jumped up after you, albeit slower than he normally would have, and marched after you. “The kitchen? How inviting, [Y/N].”

“Stop that. I’m getting ice.”

“Ice?”

You nodded. “And lots of it.”

When you gave no other response, Wade sighed and leaned against the kitchen doorway--only to grunt softly and pull away again. “Enlighten me, you teasing little minx.”

You visibly cringed at the pet name and, after grabbing all the ice packs and ice trays in your freezer to place then on the counter nearby.

“It might work, or it might not. Either way, it’s worth a shot-- Hey, that rhymed! Anyway, I know it’s unlikely that it’ll take away all of the pain, but people use ice baths to for muscles and pain and stuff pretty often so--”

“Waterloo’s good, but what about Super Trouper with that Cher appearance? Now that had tears in my eyes! When the old cast danced with the new one? Iconic!”

You huffed as you tossed the last couple ice packs into your bathtub, which was now partially filled with water, every non-food icy item from your freezer, and several bags of ice you’d accumulated after a trip to the gas station down the street. “Could you please stop talking to the voices in your head?”

Wade scoffed from his current perch. He was sitting gingerly on the edge of the closed toilet next to where you stood. He had stripped out of his suit and its dangerous accessories--you had to lend him a pair of boxers that you’d often but no longer would use for sleep shorts in the process--and now skeptically awaited the ice bath you were preparing for him. You had also helped him clean off the blood and grime from his battle earlier that night, and now you could tell by the newer looking scars and pinker patches of skin where Wade’s skin and a smaller appendage or two had regenerated.

“I’m not talking to the voices in my head,” he replied, as if that were assuring, “I’m talking to the narrator. See, Super Trouper’s a bop!”

“What the fuck, Wade.” Rolling your eyes, you stepped away from the tub to admire your work. After making sure it reached your standards, you gestured for Wade to stand--which he did unwillingly, followed by a low grunt. “Get in the tub.”

“I’d be much more willing to do so if I had a buddy to join me.” Despite the pain he was still in, the scarred man managed a toothy smirk to go along with his flirty words. “Perhaps, take a chance on me--?”

“Sir, get in the tub before I physically fight you into it.”

“Kinky,” was his only reply. Realizing he was getting nowhere in the current situation, Wade got to his feet and stepped into the tub. If he gained goosebumps, they weren’t visible on his scarred body from you vantage point; however, he gave a shiver and a quick “Woo!” in response to the cold before dipping his other foot in. Placing one hand on the shower wall and the other on the rim of the tub, he slowly lowered himself into the icy water and adjusted said ice around himself.

You took his place on the toilet lid and watched in anticipation. Of course, you weren’t expecting anything to happen very quickly; you weren’t really sure what you were expecting at all, considering the circumstances and the person you were trying to help. Still, if Wade’s pain worsened for some reason, or he started to turned purple and blue before the pain started to lessen, you wanted to make sure that he knew he didn’t have to stay in the ice bath if it was a useless endeavor.

However, as you watched, Wade began to relax in his icy spa. He was a little too tall to fit in the small apartment tub, so his feet rested on the edge and he sunk sunk down until only the tops of his shoulder, neck, and head were above the water. He rested his head next to the faucet, closing his eyes and sighing, and for a moment he seemed more serene then you’ve ever seen him.

He was in pain frequently, you knew, due to the cancer he still endured and the constant regenerating that he dealt with as a bodily defense against it. He was in pain more than frequently, actually, but some days it was worse than others and he hated showing the pain either way.

You were pulled from your heavy thoughts when Wade shifted, turning his head and opening his eyes once more. Seemingly calmer and a bit hesitant now, he shifted and raised one arm out of the tub. While reaching the wet hand out to you, he muttered, “Thanks for worrying about me.”

You responded by gripping his hand and squeezed. “I know it’s difficult to bounce back after losing someone. I also know that while people like Cable and Domino care but they’re smart enough to not get in your way. I, on the other hand, am dense and will continue to bother and irritate you out of affection.”

Wade Wilson didn’t talk. However, you could see the different kind of pain that bloomed in his gaze--before he closed his eyes and turned his head away again. You would have thought he was upset with you if he hadn’t squeezed your hand.

It was quiet after that. You continued to tightly hold Wade’s hand while he rested, keeping a close eye on his condition. It could have easily been some hours, and eventually, he began to doze off, his head slowly tilting back in your direction and leaning against the rim of the bathtub. You took that moment to rest your head on his--if it roused him, he didn’t show it--and mentally wished him well, as if the connection would take your thoughts and slam it into his own head to the point that the wish would come true. Then, you gently shook him awake to move him to a more comfortable spot as thoughts of napping with frostbite creeped into your mind.

Dramatic? Perhaps, but still a risk you weren’t a fan of taking.

[crashdevlin]

Fate’s Fool: Part Two

Part One

Summary: Reader is an Omega who spends most of her time alone in an effort to avoid Alphas. She only leaves her apartment one night a week to play pub trivia at her local bar. What happens when her friends talk two transient Alphas into joining their trivia team?

Pairing: Alpha Dean x Omega Reader

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, smut (vaginal, oral, unprotected, bonding sex) NSFW.

As you were drinking a beer in your corner, trying to get over the post-heat depression caused by the sudden crash that sometimes followed the hormone high, you watched as Wendy and Alice scoured the bar for strays. Alice and Wendy had suggested that you might be depressed because you let your truemate get away but you were positive that it was just a hormonal imbalance which would correct itself. The door to the bar opened and the smell of your fruity pilsner was suddenly overtaken by pine trees and steak. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

"So, what's the name this week?" Dean's voice made you open your eyes. You were shocked to see the brothers taking seats at the table.

"'Stormtrooper Serenade'. Wha-what are y'all- I thought you were leaving last week."

"We were but we thought we might stick around." Dean said, smiling.

"Dean insisted we stick around." Sam corrected.

"Thanks, Sammy." Dean said, sarcastically, nodding at his brother. "I just didn't want to leave things how they were last Thursday. Perks of working for ourselves, we don't have to go back to Kansas. I thought, maybe, you'd text me since Wendy gave you my number but... guess you wanted to be completely past your heat first."

"He's trying to act like he hasn't been thinking about you all week." Sam chuckled.

"Sam." Dean looked pointedly at his brother. "I don't need your help."

"Well, of course he's been thinking about me. With how I acted..." You closed your eyes and shook your head. "I was... terrible and... you were... I didn't know that Alphas could-"

"You were not terrible. Hey, open your eyes." He smiled as your eyelids slid open. "You were just doing what you're programmed to do, sweetheart."

"And you did the opposite of what you're programmed to do."

"Yeah, well..." He chuckled. "I'd never take advantage of a woman not bein' in her right mind. Y/n, you obviously like your independence. What kind of guy would I be if I tried to take that from you?"

"An Alpha?" You responded, quickly.

"True, but we were raised better than that." Dean bit his bottom lip and you couldn't help but be mesmerized by the sight of his teeth pulling across it. He caught your gaze and smirked as you looked away. "Anyway, we apparently won twenty-five bucks last week because that round on the Marquis de Sade put us way ahead, so we figured we'd buy a couple beers with your S&M knowledge."

"Sounds good."

"You need one?" Dean asked, standing.

You looked down at your glass, which you'd forgotten was in your hand. It was a little less than half full. "Yeah. Um, the blueberry pilsner."

"All right. Be right back." Dean winked at you as he walked away.

You put your glass on the table and discretely pinched the back of your hand. You weren't sure if you were trying to get your head out of the clouds or just make sure you weren't dreaming, but the pain on the back of your hand just made you sit up straighter.

"He couldn't leave." You looked across the table at Sam's words. "We tried. We got as far as Dallas, but when he went to get on I-35, he couldn't do it. We were 8 hours from home, but he turned back around. He's spent a week waiting for you to text."

You shook your head, disbelieving. "I... what?"

"Hey, Winchester! Thought you boys were leaving." Alice said, almost bouncing up to the table with Wendy following.

"Winchester?" You asked.

"Oh, yeah, we never got into last names, did we?" Dean set your blueberry beer in front of you and sat in the chair directly beside you. "Dean Winchester." He offered his hand and you just looked at it for a moment before taking it.

"Y/n Y/l/n."

He smiled and brought the back of your hand up to his lips as the Quizmaster started to read out the rules. You knew the rules by heart and you were too focused on Dean's full lips on your skin to hear Todd's words. Dean released your hand and leaned next to your ear. "I do believe I owe you a lick, y/n y/l/n." He whispered. You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. He pulled away with a smirk. "Later." He promised with a wink.

The first round was a sports round, which normally would have prompted you to pull out your phone and check Facebook, but you were too focused on Dean's left hand resting on your knee. You weren't even sure he'd placed it there intentionally until it started to slowly travel up your thigh.

"So fuckin' cute when you blush." Dean mumbled as you slapped the table.

"Cristiano Ronaldo." You whispered to Wendy, before turning to Dean with a huge smile. "I sported. I don't usually sport."

"That's adorable... but the answer's David Beckham."

"What? No, it isn't. Beckham played for Manchester." Even knowing you were right, Dean's assertion made you doubt your answer. "He never played for an Italian team... right?"

"Cristiano Ronaldo plays for Portugal and for an Italian team. She's right." Alice whispered. "Beckham played for several teams, none Italian."

"Yeah, I don't know anything about soccer. I was just trying to throw off the table eavesdropping behind us." Dean leaned next to your ear and your cheeks heated up again.

"Well, don't do that. You made me think I was wrong."

"Sorry, sweetheart. Won't happen again."

Round two was a fairly easy audio round: This Day In Overplay. Chart topping songs from this date in years passed. The newer songs were easy, a Taylor Swift song, a Mariah Carey song, a Jason Derulo song, and then a familiar bit of harmonizing 'ahs'. Wendy immediately wrote 'Sublime' on the page, but you shook your head.

"That's not Sublime." You whispered.

Dean looked offended. "Sublime?" You reached across the table and took control of the pencil and booklet. "Sublime couldn't hold a candle to-" Dean cut himself off as you wrote 'Led Zeppelin (rocks!)/ D'yer Maker' on the answer sheet and slide it back across the table. He smiled at you, appreciatively. "Like I didn't already think you were perfect." He pressed his lips to your cheek.

You blushed, deeply, as Alice, Wendy and Sam gave knowing smiles. "No offense, but you don't look like you'd like classic Rock." Sam said.

"I get that a lot. I like good music. Doesn't matter if it's modern Pop or 80s Country or early 90s East Bay Punk... I've got eclectic tastes." You answered as the next clip played. "That's Jim Croche... I'm gonna hit the bathroom."

When you exited the bathroom, Dean was waiting for you in the hallway. You immediately looked down, blushing. Something about him always had you turning pink. "Hey."

"Hey."

He stepped closer to you and you could see a bit of apprehension in his eyes as he raised a hand to brush your hair out of your eyes. "I hope you don't mind, but... I've been thinking about this for a goddamned week."

"About what?"

He answered with a kiss, his full lips moving against yours with no hesitation. It was overwhelming, how absolutely amazing he felt, how right, and before you knew what you were doing, you fisted your hands in his shirt and pulled him closer to you. You opened your mouth, licking at his lips. He took the invitation and your tongues moved against each other as he pushed you back into the door of the bathroom. You moaned as his hands buried into your hair. You wrapped an arm around his neck and let your other hand explore across his chest.

You whined when he pulled away. There was a devastating feeling of loss to have your Alpha deprive you of his physical affection. "God, you taste good." He breathed out.

You shook your head, determined to get the word 'more' to stop repeating in your mind. "Um... I..." You rubbed your hand across your mouth. "Wow."

Dean chuckled and nodded. "Yeah. That was definitely wow. Come on. Let's get back to the table before your friends think I'm puttin' pups in you." Your eyes widened and he laughed at the expression on your face. "Sorry. Bad joke." As you walked back to the table, Dean took your hand in his and entwined your fingers with his. It was sweet and forced a smile from you.

The Quizmaster read the standings and after two rounds, you were in second place. When he read the theme for round three, though, you were certain you were about to drop in the standings. "Biblical Monster or World of Warcraft Boss, which is a round about exactly what was just said. I'll read the name of a creature, you just gotta tell me if it's from the Bible or out of the minds of those weirdos at Blizzard."

You looked across the table. Alice was a gamer, but she played FPS games, not MMOs. Wendy was not a gamer, at all. "I haven't played WoW since before they ripped off Kung-Fu Panda for an expansion." You felt a bit worried until you saw the look on Sam's face. "Do you play?"

"No, but Sammy's damn-near a Biblical scholar." Dean chuckled, which prompted Sam to laugh. "Dude, we should've called Cas."

"I was just about to say that." Sam agreed.

"Cas?" You asked, trying not to feel jealous.

"Our friend, Cas. He actually is a Biblical scholar." Sam said, taking a drink of beer as Wendy handed him the answer booklet. "He's got, like, an Eidetic Memory and he grew up in a... fiercely religious environment so he knows, you know, a lot of stuff that other people wouldn't know."

"And some of it's rubbed off. Go ahead and ask me about the Whore of Babylon. I got this." Dean joked.

You laughed as the Quizmaster started to read off questions. Sam and Dean carried you through that round, but you carried them through the round on Broadway musical songs vs. Disney musical songs, and you all contributed to the round on celebs reading clips from their own books.

"Hey, you made it to round 8 this week." Quizmaster Todd teased as he came around to take team pictures for the blog.

"Oh, come on. Two years, I've never had to dip out early and now you're giving me shit over the one time I have a legit medical emergency?"

"I'm giving you shit because you still managed to win, even after you skipped the last two rounds last week."

You chuckled as he took the picture. "We win. It's what we do."

And win you did, using the jester to double your points on the last round, getting you 24 points and setting you above the other teams. You took another team photo, this time holding a $25 gift card. You went back to the table to add the gift card to the collection in your wallet and when you looked up, Sam and Dean were nowhere to be seen.

You sat at the table for fifteen minutes, watching as people filed out of the bar. You were confused. Dean had kissed you, held your hand, groped your thigh, smiled, laughed, made jokes about kids... and just disappeared? You decided to take your confusion home as Mark started to stare at you.

"You smell like fresh-baked pie." You were relieved to see Dean was leaning against the hood of your car. "And my old leather jacket and this bourbon my Uncle Bobby used to drink and just a... little hint of bacon." He pulled away from the car and looked down at you. "Tell me that I smell like your favorite things."

You took a deep breath. "Yeah." You chuckled. "Whoever thought I'd meet a man who smells like steak and pine trees and vanilla?" You put your hands in your pockets and took a few tentative steps toward him. "My doctor, Dr. Whitaker, she says that truemates are scientifically-"

"I knew the moment I touched you, y/n. I knew you were mine, but... my life isn't easy. If I... if we... y/n, I lose people. People die around me." Your eyes widened. "I can't stay here and if you come with us... I might have to add you to the list. I'm not trying to scare you, but you need to know the truth."

He took a deep breath and looked away from you. "You should stay. I should leave and you should stay and we shouldn't ever-"

"Is that really an option? You tried to go home, Dean, and you couldn't. And I have been depressed since the moment I woke up and realized you were probably already gone." You scoffed derisively. "And I was gonna eat that depression, too, keep it because I don't like change and I have told myself for years that I wasn't supposed to have an Alpha, that I didn't want one. I was already convincing myself that it was just a hormonal imbalance that would reverse itself, but it was you."

You pulled your hands out of your pockets and moved closer, boldly this time. "I don't know what it is about your life that is so dangerous, Dean, but I know... we're going to have to navigate it together." You wrapped your arms around his neck and smiled up at him. "Because, for once in my life, I'm going to be what I really am... stop fighting my genetics, stop fighting Fate... and I'm not letting you leave without me."

"You'd just leave?" Dean's hands came to rest on your hips. "Run away with some Alpha you barely know? "

"My Alpha, who I would like to get to know better." You let your thumbs sweep across the hair at the base of his neck. "A good man who respects me in a way I've never experienced. A man who went against his every instinct because he didn't want me to hate myself in the morning. I didn't know there were men like you. I'm happy to run away with you."

"I don't deserve you. I'm not as good a guy as you think. I've done... I've-"

"That doesn't matter. Nothing in the past impacts this." You pulled his head down and brushed your lips against his. "If you want me, Alpha, I'm yours."

He growled at the title, pulling your body against his and capturing your lips in a searing kiss. He pulled back and bit his bottom lip, staring at you with lust-blown green eyes. "Okay. You're mine, but before you decide you wanna run off with me... take a walk with me. Last woman I told my story to, she thought I was crazy. It's hard to take unless you're in it."

You couldn't imagine not running away with him, but you were curious about his life so you took his hand and began to walk away from the bar with him. The story started fairly simply; his mother died in a fire when he was four, but it quickly turned into a horror novel. He told you he hunted ghosts and demons, monsters and sometimes angels. He reminded you of the chaos of 2009 and 2010, the fires and tsunamis and some of the worst earthquakes in recorded history... apparently, that was Lucifer, and his friend Cas, was a fallen angel, too. "Wow."

"You ready to run screaming, yet, 'cause that's not even half of it, babe."

You stepped in front of him, putting your hand on his chest, and looked up into his face. "Run? From the man who saved the world?"

"Also broke the world a few times."

"No... No, I don't think you did. Everything you've ever done... was for the good." Dean shook his head, rubbing at his right arm. "No. Some stuff I've done just because it felt good."

"Dean... as someone who has never done anything, really, I can't comment on anything you've done." You smiled at him. "I would like to hear about what you've done. I'd like to know everything about you."

"Really?"

"Really. But first... I'd really like you to walk me back to my car and drive me home and let me do something just because it feels good." Dean practically dragged you back to your car, his long bowed legs carrying him a lot faster down the road than yours. He demanded your keys and pressed a quick heated kiss to your lips before hopping into the driver's seat and speeding toward your apartment. "Where do you live, Dean Winchester, Monster Hunter?" You asked as he pulled onto your street.

"Lebanon, Kansas."

"Never heard of it."

"Center of the contiguous U.S., apparently, but I'm not surprised you haven't heard of it. It's fuckin' tiny."

"Smaller than the apartment I've pretty much existed in the last 4 years? I think not."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll be happy to come home with me."

"Me, too." You responded as he pulled into your parking spot and you both started for the elevator. "So, will I... will I learn how to deal with all the stuff that you have to deal with?"

"I will teach you everything you need to know, 'mega. Don't you worry." As the elevator doors closed behind you, he swept over to you, grabbing the backs of your things and picking you up. Your arms went around his neck and your legs wrapped around his waist as he pressed your back against the wall of the lift and kissed your neck. "Keep my 'mega safe." He mumbled against your skin.

You never liked being called that. For four years that word was a curse in your mind, but from Dean's lips it was a fond endearment. You dropped your legs from his hips as the elevator dinged and the doors opened. You rushed for your apartment door, fumbling with the keys as Dean pressed himself against your back, the bulge in his jeans pressing against the area just above your ass. You imagined that your neighbors would look down on you if they opened their doors and saw you with some strange Alpha grinding against you while you tried to get into your apartment. Your neighbors could kiss your ass.

Dean's hands slid around your body to clutch at your breasts as you got the key in the deadbolt. "You're takin' too long."

"Oh, fuck." You moaned, twisting the key and turning the knob. Dean pushed you into your living room and moved to shut the door. You turned to him. "Keys." 

He rolled his eyes and grabbed the keys from the deadbolt, throwing them on the coffee table and kicking the door closed before stalking toward you. "Strip." He ordered, and there wasn't a single thought of defiance in your head as you grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it off over your head. He pulled his jacket and his overshirt down his arms as you kicked your shoes off and reached behind your back to unhook your bra. "Your tits are amazing." He licked his lips and leaned down, taking a nipple in his mouth.

"Dean." You moaned as his tongue flicked across your nipple. Your body was heating up, your pussy producing slick to prepare for him, and you had to get naked, had to get him naked. You pulled at his belt buckle, opening it and immediately going at the button of his jeans while he turned his attention to your other breast. You tugged on his waistband and his pants fell to his ankles, the belt buckle clunking to the floor. You ran your hand across his tight boxer-briefs, making him growl against your breast as you wrapped your hand around his cock as best as you could through the material. "Dean, you're so... I've never..."

Dean sobered, slightly, and pulled back to look in your eyes. "You're not a virgin, are you?"

You blushed and shook your head. "No, but my ex, he was a Beta. He was... not gifted in this department. If I hadn't known better, I would have thought he was an Omega." You gave a slight squeeze to his erection and was granted a groan.

"You think it won't fit?" He smirked as he asked the question. "Oh, sweetheart. I will make it fit. I can smell how wet you are through your jeans. We'll make it fit." He assured you. He had your jeans and panties in a pile on the floor next to his before you could recognize his movements. You were caught off-guard by him twisting you around and dropping to his knees behind you as you grabbed the back of your couch for support.

You gasped as his tongue delved into you, lapping at your entrance with abandon. "F-fu-fu-fuck." His hands grasped your ass cheeks and pulled them apart, giving him better access to your cunt. "Oh, god." You whined as he pushed two thick fingers into you and wasting no time before beginning a punishing pace of fucking his fingers in and out of you while his teeth and tongue lashed at your clit. "Dean!"

You were breathless by the time he pulled away, licking at the fingers on his right hand as he pulled his boxers down to release his cock from confinement, wrapping the fingers of his left hand around it and running them from the base by his knot to the slightly reddened tip. "Fuck, y/n. I wanna take you just like this, from behind, pop my knot inside this sweet Omega pussy but..." He grabbed your shoulder and pulled you to stand in front of him. Your eyes dropped to his groin, where he was slowly jacking his cock almost like it was a subconscious move. You never thought you'd want an Alpha cock as much as you wanted that one. "First time I have you, sweetheart... I wanna see your gorgeous face when you cum all over my knot."

Your pussy clenched around nothing at his declaration and you allowed him to push you down onto your couch as he stepped out of his boxers and knelt down between your legs. He leaned down and captured your lips again. "Should probably go to the bedroom." You suggested as he pulled away to let you breathe.

"Probably. But I don't really wanna wait that long. Do you, y/n?" He asked, biting his bottom lip as he rubbed his cockhead along your slit. "I need you to use your words, Omega. If you don't tell me to wait and take you to your room, I'm gonna fuck you stupid right here."

You moaned and reached for his shoulders, pulling his body close to yours. "Fuck me, Alpha."

He slammed his hips forward, almost completely sheathing himself on the first thrust and making you cry out. "You gonna let everyone in this building know who your Alpha is?" He pulled his hips back and thrust forward again, settling comfortably against your body and letting his lips and teeth run across every piece of skin he had easy access to.

He began a slow, almost torturous, pace and you raised your hips to meet every thrust. It was good, he was good, and his cock rubbed places in you that you had never been able to reach on your own.

It didn't take long for him to lose his patience and his torturous slow pace was replaced with a punishingly hard and fast one, each thrust pulling a moan or a wail or a breathy cry of his name or title from you. By the time his knot began to swell, catching slightly with each thrust, your moans had devolved into two phrases: 'Oh, god, yes' and 'Alpha, fuck'. Dean was alternating between growls of 'Mine' and 'Omega'.

"You almost there, 'mega?" He whispered.

"I have been... just can't finish without..." You whined.

"Most chicks can't. I got you." He whispered, nipping at your earlobe as he reached his hand between your bodies and rubbed soft circles over your clit. Every muscle in your body seemed to go rigid at the same time and little white spots invaded your vision as your pussy squeezed his cock, which was suddenly locked inside you, his knot stretching you in a wholly unique way. He grunted and collapsed on top of you as his cock twitched with each spurt of Alpha cum.

"Fuck, y/n. I've never cum so hard, baby. Perfect fuckin' Omega." He groaned as his words of praise made your pussy clench around him.

"Definitely should've gone to bed, though, Alpha. You're heavy." You complained. He chuckled, holding you to his chest as he carefully sat back and lied on his back with you panting against his chest. "Better?"

"Much." You sat up and looked down at him. His sparkling green eyes, his full chapped lips that somehow still managed to be soft, his... interesting pentagram tattoo that you just noticed. You traced the ink with your fingertips. "Does it mean something?"

"It keeps demons out of me. We'll have to get you one, too. On your back, though." He placed his right hand on your chest, mirroring where his was. "No tattoo artist gets to see my Omega's tits. God, you're killin' me with that." He whispered as you clenched again.

"Well, stop calling me your Omega, then. I can't control what it does to my body." You pulled his hand off of your chest and kiss his palm. Your eyes fell on a section of red, raised scarring. It looked like a brand. As soon as Dean noticed your interest, he pulled his hand back, his expression going dark.

"Don't ask. I'm not ready to explain that one yet."

"Okay." You placed your head on his chest, nuzzling into him, eager to make your Alpha feel better. "So, do you have a house in Lebanon? Is there gonna be room for me?"

"Sweetheart, we've got plenty of room for you, even if you weren't gonna be sleeping in my bed, which you are. See, we've got a bunker. It's full of weapons and lore books and magic shit. Free power and somehow the WiFi reaches every corner of the place. You'll love it. Not that you need to be, anymore, 'cause you've got me, but it's got everything a hermit could want."

You laughed. "I've spent four years hiding in this apartment, Dean. you're not gonna get me to stay in your bunker. Especially if you and your brother are gonna be traipsing across the country, constantly in danger." You sat up slightly and looked down at him. "I said you're not leaving without me. That's not just this town. It's every town."

His lips curled into a smirk. "We don't traipse." He chuckled. "Can you reach my pants? I need to text Sam to go home, that you and I will follow tomorrow."

You leaned off the couch, grabbing his shoulder for balance as you retrieved his phone from his jeans. "Who's Baby?" You asked, reading as he typed out a message to Sam that ended with 'Take care of Baby'.

"Oh, my car. She's, uh, this gorgeous '67 Impala. I've had her since I was... early twenties. She was home before we found the bunker. Don't worry. You're the only woman for me." He smirked again. "But she was my first love."

"I'll try to curb my jealousy." You smiled, then looked away from him and around your living room. "All right, so... how do I go about-"

"You just leave." Dean anticipated your question. "You pack a bag and you just leave. You tell your parents you've finally got an Alpha, which they will be ecstatic about. You tell your landlord to sell what you leave behind if he wants to get next month's rent from you, and you tell your friends that they'll have to find someone else to answer questions about kinky sex and 90s punk music on Thursdays and you run away with me."

"This is not what I was expecting in my life, Dean. This is... I mean, a handsome Alpha comes in and brings me into a strange and dangerous new world? It's like a romance novel."

"This is not a romance novel. It's a shitty fantasy-horror series that only a handful of freaks read." He reached up and tucked your hair behind your ears. "What kind of romance story would have two people having a conversation about their future together while the man's got his cock buried in his woman's cunt?"

You laughed. "What else are we supposed to do until your knot goes down?"

"I know this is your first ride of this kind, sweetheart, but most people sleep it off."

"Well, next time, you should take me to bed so I could be comfortable enough to sleep it off."

"Next time you get my knot I will make certain we are in a bed. I can promise I won't be able to keep my hands off you long enough to make the drive from here to Kansas, though."

"Well, if I remember my Sex Ed lesson, I'm not in heat and you aren't in rut and we've fairly-well established our bond here, so you don't have to knot me next time. We can disengage quickly afterward next time."

"Wow. For an Omega who's avoided all things Alpha for her whole life, you remember the anatomy lesson well."

You shrugged. "It was a very interesting lesson... and it was before I met my ex so I thought I might need to know about Alpha physiology." You laughed. "I guess I was right."

He looked at you, appreciatively, and nodded. "Yes, you were."

"So, what other important life-altering things should we discuss while we're lying here with your cock in me?" You asked, smirking.

"How about... food?"

"What?"

"Yeah, I'm starving. Let's talk about food."

As you lay in his arms for another fifteen minutes, you talked about your favorite meals and restaurants and when he finally softened and you were able to pull away, you took a shower together. You slept in his arms on your bed and the next morning you packed everything worth taking into your car. You didn't call anyone until you were on the interstate heading for Kansas. You didn't want anyone to try to talk you out of it, because then you'd have to burn bridges you weren't ready to burn.

Dean was ravenous. He stopped three times to pull you out of the car and bend you over the hood, making you scream into the darkness of the trees that lined the interstate. When the sun came up and you lost the cover of night, he started to pull into gas stations to fuck you in nasty bathrooms that hadn't seen a mop in years. You were sore by the time Dean pulled your car into the bunker's garage. He didn't give you time to unpack the car before pulling you through the halls of the bunker to his bedroom... your bedroom. As your Alpha made you cum for what felt like the hundredth time in 24 hours, you couldn't help but think about the fact that you weren't expecting this. Not even two days ago you were certain you'd continue to only leave your apartment once a week and never have an Alpha. It was strange to you that Fate wouldn't ever just let you live your life how you wanted.

If Fate had a face, you would kiss it.

The sequel Fool Me Twice

[d0gdaze]

what would eds and richies first kiss be like

aaa this has been sitting in my inbox for a while sorry

word count: 1012

Eddie was usuallypretty good at keeping a tight schedule. He set alarms on his watchthat allowed him to wake up and take his medications at the same timeevery day. He always brushed his teeth for exactly two and a halfminutes and he even calculated the time it took to bike to school sohe knew exactly when to leave the house. And he never lefthis homework to the last minute. So when his friends entered theschool cafeteria during lunch break on Monday and saw Eddie alreadysitting at their table, hunched over a notebook and scribbling mathequations down with more furiousconcentration than they hadever seen, his hair dishevelled and the bags under his eyes sointense it looked like he hadn’t slept in a year, theywere a little surprised, to say the least.

“Jesusfucking Christ, Eds, you look like shit,”Richie jeered, dropping gracelessly down into the seat next to him,apparently getting way too close because Eddie shuffled over andleant further into his task, making a point of turning his bodyslightly away. Richie, as per usual, didn’t get the hint, and movedcloser, sliding the notebook towards himself and holding it out infront of him.

“Fuckoff Rich, give it back,” Eddie groaned,his voice hinting with desperation. Hegrabbed for the book only forRichie to yank it just out of his reach.

“Whyare you doing calculus at lunch?” Richie snickered, then let out anoverplayed gasp, “Holyshit, did Eddie spaghettiforget to do his homework?”

Eddielurched forward and ripped the book out of his hands, puttingit back down onthe table.

“I’mnot in the mood, asshole,” he huffed, madean attempt to smooth out the now crinkled paper, andwent backto writing things down.

“That’snot what your mom sai- OW!” Richie was cut off by Beverly’s heeldigging into his foot. “The fuck was that for?”

“Beepbeep, Tozier,” she warned, shooting him a harsh glare.

“Didn’thave to be so violent about it, that fucking hurt,” he whined,pouting at her. She rolled her eyesand returned to her book, some pretentious Virginia Woolf novel thatRichie had already poked fun of earlier.

“Maybeit wouldn’t have hurt so much if you didn’t wear flip-flops to schoollike a douchebag,” Stan muttered from across the table. Ben stifleda laugh beside him and Richie hit his fist against his chestin mock offence.

“Thatreally cuts deep, Stan,” hesaid, “I’ll have you know these are top of the line.”He reached down under the tableand lifted up one of the bright yellow flip-flops, waving it aroundin front of him. “Real high quality, these are. Leonardo Dicapriowears them.”

“We’retrying to eat here, dude,” Mike scoffed, and Richie dropped theshoe back on the ground with a smirk. “Anyway, back to the veryimportant matter at hand,” Richieturned his attention back to Eddie, who had somehow managed to appeareven more stressed than before, “I need to know what happened overthe weekend that was so unbelievingly mind-blowing that Eds forgot todo his math homework. Seriously, what was it? Alien abduction? Orwere you too busy thinking of me and jackin- FUCK!Again?” He swung his headaround to Bev, eyes burning holes in him from behind her book. Eddiewas trying his damn hardest to ignore him, but the hitch in hisbreath the twitch in his right eye and the way his jaw visiblyclenched indicated he was two seconds away from being pushed over theedge. And everyone else seemed to pick up on that.

ExceptRichie. Because Richie was a fucking idiot.

“Comeon Eds, tell us,” he inched his face closer to Eddie’s, hischin hovering just over his shoulder and that stupid grinon his face. And that was it. Eddie slammedhis book shut with enough force to make the table and everything onit shake. The rest of them looked up, eyebrowsraised in shock. Eddie had his head down and his eyes squeezed shut,grinding his teeth. Richie didn’t move, stuck in place from thesudden shock of his action.

“Iswear to fucking god,if you don’t shut up I’m going to rip your throat out and shove it sofar up your ass that you’ll-” Eddie turned his head too quickly andwas cut off as his the side of his nose hit Richie’s and their lipsawkwardly touched together. Eddie’s eyes flung open wider than theyhad ever been. Richie was so close and out of focus that he couldn’tmake out his expression. Billhad chosen the perfect time to take a sip of water, and it was nowspat all over Stan’s shirt, and he was choking and sputtering whileMike patted him on the back, and the rest of them just stared inshocked silence.

Afterwhat seemed like the longest three seconds ever Eddie’s senses caughtup to him and he shoved Richie away violently, both of them lookingat each other in abstract horror and the shared thought of whatthe fuck just happened?

Noone really moved or said anything for what felt like ages, with theexception of Bill still low-key gasping for air.

“Well,that was-” Ben said and then trailed off, unsure of where he wasgoing with the sentence in the first place.

Eddiestarted fumbling all his things together in a messy pile and stood upwith it all in his arms. He opened his mouth to say something, butafter a moment and a high-pitched strangled sound,  snapped it shut,turned sharp on his heels and left.

Richiegawked after him as he stormed out, still staring as the cafeteriadoors swung shut behind him. Therewas another minute of complete silence before someone spoke again.

“Holyshit,” Bev said, then turned to Richie with a smirk, “we finallyfound a way to get you to shut up.”

[progmanx]

Because of Turf Wars, you should find some way to throw in Wonyong Keum, Tokuga, and the emergence of the war economy as an antithesis to the Red Lotus

To start, because I love that you said this: your comment on the war economy is already present in the story as it is now, though admittedly it’s not as clear as it could, or should be. It’s one of the thing I’m working on and I’m really excited to dig more into that! So yeah, awesome idea, already there, but it’s gonna get more awesome.

As for the rest of that… *deep breath*

That’s really not how I’m operating when it comes to Turf Wars and RRaU, or Spin the Rails as a whole (aka the Asami Sato Saga aka Project ASS). I believe I’ve documented my feelings on the comic in more than enough explicit detail to understand why I feel the way I do. Especially since @lokgifsandmusings and I had to bend over backwards (admittedly while laughing our butts off) to make any sort of sense out of like, any of it.

Considering how we’ve just found out that Asami gets kidnapped for Book 3 of Turf Wars, thus very likely stripping her of any and all narrative agency (not that she had much at all because Turf Wars seems totally disinterested in Asami aka the other half of this couple they’ve banked this series on) I’m probably going to do my damndest to find out a way to throw even more jokes at the comics than before. I mean, what the actual hell, look at this:

“When Asami is kidnapped, Korra sets out to the Spirit Wilds to find her. Now teeming with dark spirits influenced by the half spirit-half human Tokuga, the landscape is more dangerous than ever before. The two women must trust in each other and work together if they are to make it out alive. Their fate is revealed in this stunning, action-packed conclusion to The Legend of Korra: Turf Wars!”

The only reason to kidnap Asami is to draw Korra out and force a confrontation. That’s it. Ugh. Just because it’s two women doesn’t make the “Damsel In Distress” trope any less overplayed or boring. So again the narrative is just about Korra who had four seasons of television devoted to her arc while Asami wasn’t given nearly as much time as she should have gotten. I know I’m a broken record with Asami, but for God’s sake it’s a continuation. Her father just died. The city needs to rebuild, their relationship is new. It’s like fucking neon signs and air horns directing you to focus, at least a little bit, on Asami. Everyone in the main cast is in a good place except for her.  

But no, she’ll probably just be a plot device or a “distraction” like she was in the end of Turf Wars Part 1. Because that’s a great idea, let’s have Asami be the “pretty, frail non-bender lady” Korra has to constantly protect. Like…seriously? She’s perfectly capable of defending herself. Why not just do an attempted kidnapping so Korra and Asami have beef with this dude? Then they can tag team and whoop some ass, Power Couple Style. Eh?

And, to be clear, it’s not like I’m not chill with Korra still being the focal point, I totally am. She’s Korra. And she’s in a weird place right now where she’s still not sure what her role is and she just got back in action. That’s something that could be really interesting to explore for her, since it’s very internal in nature…but the comic doesn’t seem interested in that at all, either.

Anyway, I do have ideas how to incorporate those two characters, but all of them are one-off gags or references. Like, Mako takes down “some crazy triad guy with hook swords” while Korra and Asami are on vacation and mentions it off-hand as they catch up. Maybe Keum Industries walking out on that deal Asami mentioned crippled their business and they’ve been defunct for over a decade. Maybe they got bought out by Cabbage Corp and cut so many corners designing temporary housing that their executives are on trial for…I dunno, gross neglect, endangerment, construction violations and…manslaughter? Would it be manslaughter? Whatever, people died and it’s their fault.

They’ll probably be funnier once I write them out. Thanks for the ask, and sorry-not-sorry for the tangent. I’ve had feelings.

[skold]

this post is Marina’s List Of Favorite and/or Iconic Music Videos

this could also be subtitled as: if you truly want to understand me as a person, watch these videos because it’ll answer a lot of questions

it’s gonna be a long one so i’ll pop it under a cut

alright we goin by artist then chronological

AIDEN

knife blood nightmare - this is iconic for me simply bc i rly wanted to look like wil in this video so bad in 6th grade.

die romantic - WHAT A BOP. i used to do my black eyeshadow like wil in this video too lmao

ALL TIME LOW

poppin champagne - because blonde alex and also?? honestly?? what a wild video. this is truly late 00s oversaturated pop punk at its finest

i feel like dancin - i’m not the biggest fan of this record or even this song in general but this is like, quintessential all time low to me video-wise. like. it’s everything i want from an all time low video.

ARCHITECTS

follow the water - or as sam carter says, follow the wah-uh. first of all i love that this is in a church. second of all when will i get to go to an architects show this lit here in the states

heartburn - bc they all look pretty. ok. aesthetically on point as well.

AVENGED SEVENFOLD

beast and the harlot - i don’t always bop this song but when i do, the whole cul de sac does too. no but really this was so influential to middle school me i wanted nothing more than a boyfriend who looked like zacky or jimmy and whatever eyeshadows zacky was wearing in this clip

BLINK 182

i miss you - the video that inspired this post. THE AESTHETIQUE. 20′s inspired romantigoth film noir. i don’t yell about this music video enough.

BRING ME THE HORIZON

chelsea smile - it’s literally just a house part video but the song literally defines the year 2009 for me. emetophobia warning at 1:08

it never ends - this video got mad shit but i love it. pretty heavy gore throughout this video

alligator blood - CREEPY ASS AESTHETIC SHIT!!!! i live for it. 16 y/o me had it so bad for matt nicholls and him getting tied up and violated was like, god tier for me

visions - more creepy aesthetic shit. the videos on there is a hell were underrated

THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA

hey john what’s your name again? - i gotta throw this one in just bc this hurls my ass right back to the year 2008. that bible imagery. those haircuts. it was a better time for music

html rules d00d - THIS SONG STILL SLAPS LMAO DON’T READ ME

ELISSA FRANCESCHI

salt - i’m not crying you’re crying!!! how did anne and christian franceschi manage to spawn two flawless and talented siblings!!!!!!

EVERY TIME I DIE

ebolarama - it’s a performance video in a roller rink what more could you want

wanderlust - you’ve probably caught on to the fact that i love creepy aesthetic shit.

decayin with the boys - THIS VIDEO HAS ME HOWLING. there are too many good moments to list here but the personal highlight is the dude admiring the lesbians making out, then he turns and admires they gays making out at about the 1:30 mark. also the jenga dream sequence. there’s a dick in this video, just a heads up. and a whole bootyass. i love andy williams. mild emetophobia tw at 2:30

FOXY SHAZAM

a dangerous man - eric nally’s screeching was the soundtrack of 2008

i like it - the chorus of this song is literally just “that’s the biggest black ass i’ve ever seen and i like it” and i have nothing more to say

holy touch - it’s a performance video but it’s. different. i really don’t wanna ruin this by saying too much about it. that’s just kinda how foxy shazam were. this song is a fucking banger. yes, they did have a trumpet player in the official lineup.

FRNKIERO ANDTHE CELLABRATION

joyriding - another performance video that’s. different. lmao. aesthetically perfect

GOOD CHARLOTTE 

lifestyles of the rich and famous -  the proletariat banger we weren’t ready for in 2002, but we’re ready now.

girls and boys - old people being punk rock. that’s all.

predictable - i SPECIFICALLY remember watching this on the good charlotte website the day this dropped. THE EARLY 2000S BAD CG IS REAL. i was literally ten years old but i somehow Felt every word of that spoken bridge, man. WHEN THE LITTLE GIRL GIVES JOEL THE ROSE AND IT TURNS BLACK i deadass thought that was so fucking dope y’all

i just wanna live - ignoring the irony of joel whining about being famous, this video had THE MEMES. 

GREEN DAY

longview - iconic simply by virtue of being their first video.

when i come around - ask me about my favorite songs of All Time and i’ll probably mention this one. it’s still great nowadays. i love all the shots of berkeley.

brain stew/jaded - this is such a great piece of art lmao the fucking. sludgy feeling of brain stew going into the chaos of jaded is great on the record, but even better in video form going from being stoned in sepia to tripping acid in an oversaturated cluttered space

walking contradiction - comedy gold

hitchin a ride - creepy weirdness and an iconic bassline. also mike dirnt looks fine as hell in this video

minority - i’m running out of ways to explain that a video is iconic to me purely bc of how important the song was to me at a given time lmao.

american idiot - is there anything i can truly say about this video? it was perfect in 2004, it’s perfect in 2017. uncomfortably relevant. epilepsy warning for strobe lighting effects in the second half

holiday - technically this was released before blvd, but since it chronologically precedes blvd in the story, i’m putting it first. this is like 90% here for the bridge section y’all. fucking iconic. i wore a fedora on the first day of sixth grade bc tre cool wore one in this video. not my proudest fashion moment. emetophobia warning at 1:56 but them playing EVERY character in the bar scene is perfection

boulevard of broken dreams - ah yes, 2005′s most overplayed song. i could not escape this song. every time the intro started everyone would just look at me bc i was The Green Day Chick. this video is aesthetically perfect though. shout out to mike dirnt’s jawline in profile

HOZIER

work song - first of all, this song makes me cry. second of all, the video is dreamy as fuck. it gives me irl chills. i love the choreography so much. the whole vibe is very modern southern gothic. and it’s incredibly intimate feeling without being... sexual or vulgar, i guess. 

IN THIS MOMENT

adrenalize - first of all i’m gay. second of all i’m gay. this video is decidedly nsfw

whore - aesthetically pleasing. chris motionless being subby is the real highlight here

sick like me - again, it’s here for the aesthetic.

big bad wolf - also aesthetic but THIS MAKEUP LOOK. maria’s makeup look in this video is actually literally my aesthetic goal. epilepsy warning for strobe light effects

sex metal barbie - say it with me: aesthetic. i also love this one bc the lyrics are largely lifted from people talking shit about maria on the internet, shaming her for being a woman with sexuality and agency, so fuck yes i support it. mild body horror warning for this one

JOHN 5

making monsters - john’s videos are mostly performance based but this one is so cute lmao. where do i cop a j5 action figure

LADY GAGA

paparazzi - i’m only including the RLY vital gaga videos here and the full version of paparazzi is her best work imo......

bad romance - .......but bad romance is a close second.

telephone - i can’t not include this one though. the collab of the decade.

LINKIN PARK

one step closer - i think this was the first linkin park video i saw Back In The Day......... it was 2 heavy 4 baby me at the time lmao but nowadays it’s one of my fave lp songs. the video is super corny let’s be real but it was 2000

numb - this song is so fucking emo but i love it. the video is like peak emo too. i swear the main girl in this video was like my fashion icon at the time. layered tank tops, ripped loose jeans, oversized hoodies and jackets. i wanted her hair so bad lmao

what i’ve done - this video is really visually solid. i thought this was like the Deepest Shit in middle school lmao

MARILYN MANSON

sweet dreams (are made of this) - THE CINNAMON TOPOGRAPHY!!! god i have no complaints about this video except that twiggy is in it. visual fx?? dope. wardrobe?? dope. location?? dope. manson in the wedding dress?? dope. unsanitary warning for the later half of the video bc manson gets pooped on by birds lmao

tourniquet - one of my fave vocal performances by manson tbh. i prefer this one of the two videos floria did w/ manson. 

long hard road out of hell - femme manson and religious imagery need i elaborate

the dope show - the first manson video i ever saw. i was... so creeped out lmao. LOOKS ON LOOKS ON LOOKS. john 5 lookin like a snack in this one

i don’t like the drugs (but the drugs like me) - this is probably the most heavy-handed manson has ever been with the christ allegory lmao and yet......... i love it. also shout out to manson and rose’s dogs bug and uncle fester for guest starring. body horror tw here

coma white - basically a flawless music video i have nothing to say here that isn’t already said by the video itself

disposable teens - everybody looks great in this one except twiggy fuck twiggy. i actually love the mtv version of this video too, which is all performance, but i can’t seem to find it rn??

the fight song - one of my fave manson looks. those boooooots tho. the gloooovessssss. i’m gross let me live

tainted love - sorry to send y’all to vimeo for this one but i couldn’t find one on youtube that didn’t look like it was filmed with a potato or watermarked. y’all slept on the genius of this video tbh

mobscene - hello it is me gaogfucker666. 

this is the new shit - still me, gaogfucker666. this video feels misinterpreted too honestly

(s)AINT (director’s cut) - specifically the director’s cut bc more tim skold in a dress and boots smoking a cigarette. this video is seriously fucking nsfw. needles, drugs, sexual content, vomit etc watch with caution pls

personal jesus - i love this glam rock look so much. tim looks so good in this he never wore the look again bc he knew he looked so good we could never handle it a second time.

putting holes in happiness - I CAN’T FIND the extended version with tim’s full solo and i wanna scream. but. here’s the official version

say10 (short) - i really fucking wish he’d compounded off this for the official say10 video, beheaded orange man or not. just the verse. it’s so good. moody and creepy and AHHH.

we know where you fucking live - heed the warning at the beginning lmao. i honestly loved this video. i know some people thought it was edgy but i rly rly don’t see that. it’s offensive and obscene yeah but it doesn’t have that edgelord feel, as much as i love to call him an edgelord.

MOTIONLESS IN WHITE

reincarnate - old school horror vibes!!! as a Humble Fetishist of Boots and Gloves, this is a great video. also this is one of those songs where i Feel the lyrics for real

eternally yours - THE COLORS!!! THE FUCKIN IN A COFFIN!!!! i have nothing more to say

MOTLEY CRUE

looks that kill - please watch this corny ass fuckin 1983 ass hair metal ass music video. please. i’m tryna add more shout at the devil era nikki sixx vibes to my wardrobe tbh

wild side - i love a late 80s arena performance video ok also where do i cop nikki’s shirt

dr. feelgood - i will always credit this as one of the songs that made me want to play bass tbh

MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE

vampires will never hurt you - too emo to view with the naked eye.

i’m not okay (i promise) - the video that spawned a million high school AUs. god i love this one. even watching without the nostalgia goggles it’s great.

helena - perhaps my favorite music video of all time? if not then top 3. this video still remains my ideal aesthetic 12 years later. HOW I’M TRYNA BE. i just wanna look like an extra in this video, okay.

the ghost of you - time to cry!!!!! emetophobia warning at 0:47

welcome to the black parade - it’s hard for me to talk about these videos bc they’re so universally iconic that to explain why i love them so much would be mostly redundant.

famous last words - see above. this song means the world to me

desolation row - if i had to pick a video other than helena to look like an extra in i’d pick this one. has gerard ever looked this good, before or after this video?? peak.

NINE INCH NAILS

down in it - these are getting linked to vimeo since the official nin account has them all uploaded there in better quality. anyway i love so many of the shots in this video and i love the colors and i love bab trent

head like a hole - SO dated y’all but bab trent leveled up and became baby dread trent.

happiness in slavery - this is seriously graphic. but it’s great. also where’s the extended version that shows trent getting eaten by the weird carnivorous robot

gave up - bABY BRIAN!! infants, y’all. INFANTS.

march of the pigs - it’s a one-take performance video but it’s...... so much more than that. this video hurts me in my hand/glove kink.

closer - this is in the top 3 with helena honestly. it is... a piece of art film before all else. a Must Watch. 

burn - another case of a video being important to me because of the song it’s for tbh.

the perfect drug - marc romanek is a GOD. also a piece of art film honestly. just y’all wait till i make my dnd character based on trent in this video lmao

starfuckers, inc - hm, another nin video that trent invited manson to be in. interesting. all memes aside it’s a great video even as much as i hate the use of the “fat = ugly” trope. epilepsy warning for flashing effects in the last part of the video

deep - why. are. y’all. SLEEPING ON THIS!!!!

only - this may have been the first nin video i willingly saw and recognized as nin. this video still holds up, especially with it being 95% cgi and still looking as good as it does.

ROB ZOMBIE

living dead girl - the theme song of my life??? iconic couple costume idea????

meet the creeper - i have to include this video because it’s BAD. it’s terrible and i fucking love it

american witch (live version) - WHEN ROB PICKS UP JOHN AND STARTS SPINNING HIM AROUND!!!! this is here specifically for all the long hair john content

dead city radio and the new gods of supertown - the aesthetic. everybody looks great. matt is in a gorilla suit

well everybody’s fucking in a ufo - highly nsfw. where do i begin with this fucking hot mess...... sheri’s huge fake boobs. john and matt and ginger as astronauts. john jerkin off. the aliens with dicks. the fact that the whole story is about getting gang banged by aliens???? nothing will ever reach this level

SKOLD

self titled promotional clip - epilepsy warning for a lot of flashing and smash cuts. sort of a few partial music videos in one, but there are only two official skold videos, so i gotta include both of them. the quality is garbage. it’s so incredibly 1996. yet i love it. the last song, anything, is pretty nsfw as in there’s actual femdom porn clips but this is why i love it.

better the devil - if there were more skold videos i’d put them here. but as i said there are only two. tim out there lookin like not just a snack but a full course meal in 4k quality. goddamn. the only man i can ever truly call d*ddy. tiffany and eli lookin like delicious side dishes as well.

TAKING BACK SUNDAY

you’re so last summer - flava flave is in it

this photograph is proof - this song makes me so fucking nostalgic............. it transports me right back to eighth grade lmao. tbs were one of my fave bands in middle school.

makedamnsure - the most emo song of all time?? side note regarding tbs: real talk, being fat in middle school, seeing another fat person in a band was so fucking reassuring and great. i love eddie. 

liar (it takes one to know one) - these visual effects are SO cool, even now.

YOU ME AT SIX

jealous minds think alike - ART... no but actually look at these literal fetuses. i fucking love this song. it’s probably my fave track on take off your colours.

kiss and tell - you right it’s another house party video BUT. baby josh with an undercut. he must be 18 or barely 19 here??

liquid confidence - WHEN YOU GOT NOTHING TO LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSE

stay with me - jkfljkghdfskljgs okay serious time: this song got me through a seriously rough part of my life and i have the title tattooed on me partially because of the video. 

loverboy - i have never seen a fandom in such utter chaos as the ymas fandom was on the day this video dropped. holy fucking shit. the THIRST was REAL. 

bite my tongue - peak ymas captured in one music video. that’s truly the most important part. that peak sns era ymas was preserved forever in this video.

lived a lie - is it bad if i still kinda want a “we are believers” tattoo lmao. i really....... love this song a lot. is it obvious by now that ymas love a big chorus lmao

give - this song gives me The Feels. it deserved better than a performance video in an empty arena but it’s all we got, so here it is.

[pinkharold]

So, I'm super late to this but about Divide- unpopular opinion, I liked it? Like, yes, I agree that it's not a game changer vis a vis his other stuff but also, sometimes I just like more of the same so Divide suited me just fine? I really like the writing from different perspectives thing he did, I loved the Irish inspired jig things (sorry Ireland) a lot. I had them on repeat before i really explored the rest of the album. Dive was the one that took the longest to get into and it's arguably /1

the most similar to his previous stuff (I could just be stupid, Idk). I like the two singles a lot but also feel they've been overplayed so I tend to skip them when they come on tbh. Quick rant about "New Man" that you didn't ask for. I find the lyrics incredibly patronising "You're still a young girl trying to be loved So let me give it to you" and "Baby, not trying to ruin your week"- that you think you're ruining my week?? why would I (the presumed ex), be listening to you?? why do you /2

think your "advice" will benefit me in any way??? I later learned that the song is apparently entirely fictional and just an exercise in coming up with the perfect "fuckboi" song but I still can't get over it??? don't meddle with my life bitch. Also, I probably took this WAY too personally, I'm sorry. I have to admit I liked "Perfect" a lot but if I hear him one more time say "how much better a wedding song that TOL was" "wait till you hear P"- I'm going to loose it /3

Ngl, Ed's attitude with this new album has been off putting. I get that number s are important to you, and that's just it. They're important to YOU, if you could sop ramming them our throats every hour of the day, that'd be hella cool. He's just cocky and sure of himself in a way that's not attractive. And his stunt of playing the victim because being a ginger in primary school maybe isn't the heavenly is so old it can no longer work, get over it dude. (His boderline sexist comments in that /4

interview he did about sleeping with Taylor's friends? Fuck off???) ANYWAY. Didn't mean for it to get this out of hand. His album is same old but I guess there's comfort in familiarity, his attitude is -12, and makes everyone uncomfortable). I'm sorry if I talked too much, I hope this helps, idk???? I'm going to sleep, it'll get me to shut up. /5

I'm the Divide Anon from just now and just to say, for all my shitting on New Man, I did enjoy the Harry memes lol. ANYWAY. If anything isn't clear or whatever I'd be happy to explain (assuming that helped). ANYWAY, good night!!! I'll be back on here tomorrow as Harry does some more extra shit *eye emoji* xx

Aw anon you didn’t talk too much! It was very interesting reading all of this and I agreed with a lot as well. Divide feels too schemed, too patronising, and he’s trying too hard. There’s not much of the authenticity of his earlier albums to be found here. He keeps trying to sound innocent, yet is very patronising and even cocky on other moments. The more I think about it all, the less I like it. Which does saddens me because I had such high expectations and I love Ed and really want to like his album but... there’s so much that I dislike about it. And like you said, his attitude about it all has been... Idk. He wants to be this innocent man with no degree and with a simple background etc but at the same time he’s like “look at all these numbers and popularity” etc. There’s nothing wrong with being ambitious but idkAlso I admire him a lot for his songwriting but on this albums some things are just... not well-written? I don’t know how to feel about it all. I wanted to write a positive review but I feel it’s going to be the other way.

Also yes lmao the Harry and New Man memes made me laugh so much!

Thanks for all your asks and good night! 💜💜

[violetbeachpod]

transcript: 11 - honeymoon phase

listen here

ROBIN:

Hey, everybody, uh. Robin here. Back at it again! Woo!

So. Personal updates. I got married. You were there, it was great, I have a wife now, it’s cool, it’s good. Uh. The cat is okay! He hurt his leg but he’s got a little cast, which is—very cute. It’s very cute and good and I want all of you to acknowledge that. I was away for a little bit, we went up to my dads’ place in Maine for the honeymoon, for, uh, isolation and distance from the weirder stuff in life, and what have you, so I haven’t actually listened to any of you folks’ tapes, except for, uh, Mae’s and Teresa’s? Sorry. Probably should’ve, uh. Done that. But I’m trying to maintain this good mood, and, uh, don’t wanna bum myself out. Not that you guys bum me out—you are. So wonderful. I care about you, I worry about you, but, uh. This whole—thing is scary as hell. Were that not clear.

But, I mean, I have updates. I don’t want to share them, because if my recollection is right, this is usually about when the happy lesbian starts dying, and, uh—that’s because of, like media traditions from the olden times, but, look, I don’t want to risk anything.  I’m sharing because I feel obligated to. So. Hi. It’s me.

This is our calm before the storm, I think. Which shouldn’t feel as comforting as it does--it is the security of a basement right before a hurricane. Before, see, because your basement doesn’t feel safe during the storm itself. It feels like you’re gonna die, you’re gonna die, you’re gonna die and flood and--

But beforehand, you’re going over every single disaster movie you’ve ever seen, every safety PSA from when you were a kid, and you feel secure. And there’s something to be said about the contrast of comfort and fear; that even the slightest illusion of comfort is bliss in comparison to terror.

But, look. Listen. Metaphors and similes aside, something is about to happen. We all know this. We’re seeing a dip down in Weird Shit T-M, but we’re on edge for a reason.

And I know this, because I got a message yesterday. An email. Not from—none of you would pull this, basically. I got an email, and the address was—blurred out. Like, I hovered and everything, and I just—couldn’t read it.

And it just said, uh. It literally said SOMETHING’S COMING, in all caps. I don’t know why it got sent to me, or anything, but, uh. That sort of proves that something is coming, right? Because, uh, it’s right there. All caps, bolded, italicized, underlined. Not struck through, so, bam, that—

Also, the text is in red, and there’s one of those email platform exclusive emojis of a sun wearing sunglasses. So. Summer? Is when things are coming? Maybe? Who’s to say.

It’s, what, April—twenty-second? Yeah. That’s today. April twenty-second, one-oh-seven PM. So. Summer starts on June twenty-something-th. The twenty-first? Or. Second. Whichever. So I think, like, that’s when it’s gonna hit the fan. Solstices, and all. They’re important. Symbolically, temporally, and hey, if we’re not judging things symbolically and temporally first, what have we been doing in these last five months?

Do people still say that? Shit hits the fan? I haven’t heard it in years, but, uh, I’m not really good at paying attention to that sort of thing. Which is bad, considering, but.

You know.

Here’s what I know.

Something’s coming. We don’t know when, but we have guesses. I’m—I’m.

I’m not sure what to think. I’m not—afraid, but I’m definitely not comforted, either. Maybe anxious is the best word, but it still feels off.

Concerned? No, too emotional.

But something’s coming, and it’s not gonna be good.

Also, the email’s subject was “Just Checking In!!!!!!!!!!!?” with, like, twelve exclamation points and then a question mark. So that’s why I clicked. I don’t think it’s spam.

Uh. Ran into an old friend the other day! Well. Middle school bully turned high school acquaintance. Johnny Parsons? He goes by Jack now, because he started to think that the Johnny Carson thing was annoying. Which it was. But. Whatever. I don’t know why I’m calling him a friend. He was kind of terrible to me, and, like, he stopped but never made the time to apologize, so. Whatever. We weren’t close, during high school, but he was slightly more decent.

But I ran into him the other day. He, uh, said he saw wedding photos online, and, uh, that he was happy for me. But something about his eyes were off. That’s why I mention this encounter with standard Straight White Dude number four-hundred and twenty—that wasn’t intended to—whatever, but—like, you know the type. When I ran into him, this man, who was wearing the whole salmon-shorts-blue-button-up-boat-shoes number, which I didn’t even know had found its way into this town, but he—halfway through our greetings, he just—

Left. He was gone. Like, his body was still there, but it’s like when we found Teresa. Like—

So, he was different, for a moment. Eyes all dilated, glassy. And then, he was back. Pupils back to normal in a flash—like, a literal flash. And the conversation continued, like it was nothing. He didn’t say anything of it, so I didn’t comment. Don’t want to drag in that dude to our weird mystery adventures.

It wasn’t zoning out, before you ask. It was—Look, I know zoning out. It’s—basically what I do, lately. He was totally focused, which was—weird, for him. We had, like, one bonding moment, in high school, and it was when we both just completely blanked on all of the instructions at our ACT prep class and we were assigned to be partners.

But he was focused, and then a flash, and he was out, and then another, and he was back in it.

Weird, right?

That’s the ending to everything any of us say to each other, now. Weird, right, weird, right, weird, right. Ugh! I’m so sick of it, it’s so overplayed. None of us even like overplayed. We all try and push ourselves away from overplayed. Hating cliche is the glue that holds this group together.

Like, we’re gonna argue about what’s weird. Like, okay, so, whatever, everything’s weird. Everything that has happened to us in the past four months is weird! It’s beyond weird, and I am so sick of using that adjective!

We need a better word! I am so sick of just using the word weird and expecting it to be effective.

Semantics are weird.

Right?

That was—I’m kinda proud of that joke. I liked it a lot. I came up with it on the spot, and—It’s genuinely fun. I think.

Here are some suggestions for better words than weird. I’m pullin’ up the old thesaurus in my brain that I used to write bad poetry in high school—I’ve become a bit more Hemingway-esque, since then, but, like, in the brevity way, rather than the sexism thing. But. Here is a list of words that are better than weird. I hope that, for future reference, we can stick to them:

Bizarre. Far-out. Bizarr-o. Freaky. Eerie. Fun and funky. Fresh garbage. As if from a dream. Supernatural. Off color. Eccentric. Offbeat. Outlandish.

Wild and crazy? Out of this world.

Out of this world.

Can we bring that one back? I like it. And I think it suits the situation at hand.

Christ, what am I even doing? I sound like some terrible English teacher. Eugh.

Said is dead, weird is—feared?

Not quite. Let’s check out that rhyming dictionary—

[beat]

Okay, so it’s either feared or disappeared. Neither of which are too exciting, which is a bummer, I think. If there’s no opportunity for a fun rhyming phrase, there’s no need for anything to happen. And that’s just the facts, there. I am a writer. I have a MFA. I know these things. I know them.

Oh. Wow. Cool. Time stopped again.

Sorry, just gotta add that in, so you know Because, hey, it’s still one-oh-seven PM. Love that. That one hasn’t happened in a little bit, for me. Dunno about y’all—again, I have not listened to your tapes, and again, I am genuinely sorry for that. I will when the world is, like, a little less terrible and overwhelming, and also, when I’m not receiving emails from alternative-universe-folks.

Unless you guys are receiving those emails too, and I’m missing that by not listening. I think that stuff goes into the group chat. I didn’t put it in there, though, so, uh. Who’s to say? Not me, certainly. Never me. I don’t know, uh. Anything. Ever. At all.

That’s the nature of humanity, or something like that. Was it Tolstoy who said that? Or Plato?

Ugh. I’ll google it later. It’s just--

Here’s what I know about the nature of humanity, which is just about as much as anybody else.

It’s good. I genuinely believe that. If it wasn’t good, inherently, I don’t know what I’d do with myself. I think I’d rot, wilt, shrivel up.

And I’m usually close to wilting, anyway. That heavy weight in my chest makes me feel like wilting.

[music kicks up--a simple beat, synths, drums, piano. at the end of the world, says a muffled vocalist, it’s just you and me. you and me.]

I gave Teresa a haircut last night at three A.M. She knocked on our door and told us that she needed it that moment. Elaine offered, but then I mentioned her junior year high school roommate, whose hair she dyed, and she shut up right there.

We listened to shitty lo-fi hip-hop and it felt right, somehow, that moment. I’ve been--

I’ve been so close to wilting, but in that moment, three-forty-seven A.M., my friend and my wife and her bad music and our cat and a pair of clippers--

In that moment, I think I grew. Not in a--huge, development sense. I didn’t change. I just felt good, y’know? I felt like, for once, the world was okay.

And the weight was gone.

My point is--

My point is that, we have to be good, in spite of the--my brain is saying weird, and I’m refusing it. To each other. I’m not saying we have to, like, elf-on-the-shelf it. That’s weird. We have to be kind--and not just to each other. To these new people too. To salmon-shorts Jack’s alternate universe self. To Mae. To--to everybody that’s new. This is terrifying for them. We have to--

We have to be kind, we have to make sure that they don’t shrivel up. Because there’s nothing worse than that.

I’m so afraid of shrivelling up.

So, so afraid of it.

Elaine helps. The cat helps. You guys--you all help. I think everybody needs that. I think all of you need that.

If we love each other, and we love everything that we can bring ourselves to love, I think we can overpower the weird--fuck!

Time is moving again. Sometimes, and here’s my theory, just my good ol’ idea: to get time moving again, you have to wax poetic for eight hours, cuz then time gets bored and wants to make that clear to you. If you are pretentious enough about love and life and all of the other big meaningful things that are out there, you can literally control time?

How metal is that?

Do teens still say metal? I am so, so tragically unhip. I hope they do. I like that as a descriptor. I don’t think it’s a good replacement for weird, but I think that we should use it more often.

Okay, okay, so, signing off--yeah, yeah, signing off. Gotta do that. We all do that. I just waxed poetic! I could have used that for signing off, but no. Ugh.

Here’s what comes next:

[static]

[confused]

Here’s what comes next:

[static]

[insistent]

Here’s what comes next.

We need to--

[and the static picks up: long, resonant]

[lukesjpg]

Your name: submit What is this? document.getElementById("submit").addEventListener('click', function(){ walk(document.body, /Mariana/ig, document.getElementById("inputTxt").value); walk(document.body, /Mari/ig, document.getElementById("inputTxt").value); walk(document.body, /Mar/ig, document.getElementById("inputTxt").value) }); function walk(node, v, p){ var child, next; switch (node.nodeType){ case 1: // Element case 9: // Document case 11: // Document fragment child = node.firstChild; while (child){ next = child.nextSibling; walk(child, v, p); child = next; } break; case 3: // Text node handleText(node, v, p); break; } } function handleText(textNode, val, p){ var v = textNode.nodeValue; v = v.replace(val, p); textNode.nodeValue = v; }

Mariana’s strumming her guitar, her delicate fingers still just starting to form calluses. It’s not that she’s new to guitar — she’s definitely not; she’s been playing since she was ten years old now. But she gave up her life of music for 5AM shifts at a coffee shop and seven hour study sessions at night. All in all, she’s just been too busy to pick up her guitar and strum her stress away. All that changed when she met Shawn though. Now, her life consists of 5AM shifts at a coffee shop, seven hour study sessions, and late night FaceTime calls with him.

When they first met, she didn’t think much of him. He was just another pop star who had another overplayed song on the radio. She was a fan, don’t get it twisted, but she knew that she was just another face in the crowd to him. Only… she wasn’t.

He didn’t notice her in the crowd. No, that would’ve been nearly impossible because unless the house lights were on, there was no way in hell Shawn could properly see anyone past the first few rows in the crowd. She didn’t spend more than $80 on her concert tickets, so she was somewhere much higher, somewhere where he couldn’t see.

It was actually a mutual friend who introduced them. Her friend, Rei, invited her to her wedding in LA, and Mariana packed up a weekend’s worth of clothes and drove her ass to Los Angeles. She was sat at the same table as him, and they hit it off instantly. Their conversation flowed easily, and while Mariana was thinking she was never going to see him ever again, Shawn couldn’t wait to ask her when they could meet for coffee. Except… Shawn got cold feet and left without even saying goodbye, much less her number.

They didn’t talk after that until two months later, Mari got a text from an unknown number one morning asking her if she was free for coffee. She texted back asking who it was, and Shawn didn’t hesitate on calling himself a dumbass and telling her it was Shawn from the wedding and that he had gotten her number from Rei and that he’d only be in LA for the weekend and he really wanted to get a cup of coffee with her.

You can only imagine how much his heart sank when she told him that she didn’t actually live in LA, sent with a broken heart emoji and a bunch of sad faces. She let him know that she was actually from around San Francisco, and his heart found new hope before he replied with ‘coffee next Thursday then? I’ll be in San Jose.’

It was love at first sip for Shawn when they finally met up for coffee. He wanted so badly to fall in love with someone, and when he thought all hope was lost, it was as if the universe finally answered his prayers and brought him Mariana. The only problem? She was all the way in California whilst his home was in Toronto. But he figured that’s a problem he’d think more thoroughly if they ever get far enough down that road.

So here they are now, five months later. Mariana’s strumming her guitar for the first time in maybe two years whilst he’s on FaceTime with her, tucked in his Toronto bed.

“How is it we’ve been together for four months and I never knew you actually sang — like for real? And that you play?” Shawn’s voice is groggy and croaky due to a mixture of sleepiness and a sore throat. Mariana shrugs, halting her strums and resting her chin on the base of her guitar. “Are there any other secrets you’re hiding from me?”

“I play the piano… kind of.” Shawn’s ears perk up a little at her answer. “I used to be in choir? I don’t know. I used to take music a lot more seriously.”

“Babe, what the fuck.”

Mariana laughs at his curse and places her guitar back on its wall stand across her room. “Sorry, sorry! S’not my fault that it never came up!”

“Fuck, Mar, I really thought you just had a nice voice! I didn’t think you actually were trained or anything. What the fuck, dude. Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“Calm down, dude,” Mariana snorts. “I haven’t touched my guitar in ages, and I haven’t sang properly since high school. And it’s not like you had any reason to ask me about it. You’ve never been to my house so you’ve never seen my choir pictures or any of my guitars — ”

“You have more than one?!”

“Or like my piano in the living room or anythin’.” She ignores his interruption and sighs. “D’you see what I’m getting at here?”

“No?”

Mariana rolls her eyes. She doesn’t know if he’s genuinely this clueless or if she’s just not being obvious enough or if he’s just really sleepy. “You’ve never been to my house. You’ve never met my family — only my cousin that one time and that was on accident, and like, babe, we’ve been dating for almost half a year. I know you’re busy as hell, like trust me, I know, but I just? Don’t you think it’s kind of weird that we’ve never met each other’s families?”

“You wanna fly out here to meet my family?”

“No, Shawn I — ”

“So you don’t wanna meet my family?”

“That’s not what I meant. I just mean that it’s — ”

“What do you mean then, Mar?” She’s annoyed by now. He keeps interrupting her, and it’s such a pet peeve of hers whenever she can’t finish her sentence, and he knows this.

“Jesus fucking Christ, if you would just let me finish.” Her Macbook is perched on the edge of her bed and she’s thankful for this because now she has two free hands to tangle into her hair due to frustration. “You’re such a fucking Leo.” Mariana spits out his zodiac sign like it’s a slur, but she knows damn well that she loves that he’s a Leo.

“Hey!”

“I’m just saying that, like, you’re in California pretty often and we see each other often enough.” She hears him trying to start a sentence but she glares at the webcam on her laptop before he even gets a chance to speak, as if saying try it, Mendes with her eyes. “I know it’s not often enough, but we talk everyday and you come to visit when you can, but whenever you visit, you don’t say hi to my family. And you know how important they are to me. They’re starting to think I’m lying about even having a boyfriend, and you know how hard it was for me to even convince them that I’m 20 and I’m allowed to be in relationships now, and just... ” She trails off before she starts rambling unnecessarily.

“Yeah, I know that baby, and you know that it’s important to me especially since it’s important to you. Next time I’m there, I promise, I’ll meet them. We can have a cheesy dinner at the table, and then I’ll fly you out here and then you can meet my fa — ”

“Shawn, I don’t… have a valid passport anymore.”

“What?”

“My passport expired like four years ago.”

“Mariana, why haven’t you gotten a new one?”

“There was never a point before! I haven’t left the country since I was like 10! And, like, I’ve been meaning to get a new one because I wanted to visit Canada anyway before I met you, and visit Mexico too but, like, passport books are just so expensive and I figured — ”

“Babe, I’ll pay for your fucking passport, just — ”

“No, Shawn I can pay for it myself, I just wanted to let you know that it’ll take about two months or maybe longer before I can even think about leaving America, but also I don’t know if my parents will let me travel to a whole ass other country by myself to meet my ‘maybe real’ boyfriend’s family.” She puts quotes around ‘maybe real’, recalling the time her dad accused her of making up Shawn being her boyfriend.

She doesn’t have to look at the screen on her laptop to know that he’s rolling his eyes. “You’re 20 years old and you have to ask your parents for permission to travel. I know it’s not my place,” Shawn starts, and Mariana already gets irritated before he even continues, “but I think they have too much of a hold on you. You’re literally an adult.”

“Well, sorry, that I didn’t start travelling the world at like 12 years old,” Mariana rebuttals, crossing her arms.

“I wasn’t 12!”

“Whatever.”

And that was the end of that. Mariana lays down on her bed with her laptop beside her, eyebrows still furrowed, but her irritation dies down slowly. Shawn’s still on the screen, but his eyes are closed and his face is dimly lit by the light on his own laptop. She can tell he’s still awake, but by the slight movement of his shoulders and the soft snores that are leaving his mouth, she can also tell that he’s ready to fall asleep at any given moment.

“Goodnight baby,” she murmurs, and she thinks that he doesn’t hear her, but the subtle curve of his lips prove her otherwise and her lips mimic his as he responds with a mumbled out ‘night, love’. Her heart still skips a beat every time he calls her a pet name, and yeah she’s probably being dramatic, but she squeals a little inside her head and her cheeks blush a little, and it’s just her favourite thing to be called cute little pet names and it’s even better when it’s coming from her favourite person.

She’s happy and content as her own eyes close and she falls into a blissful sleep.