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fuckyeahgoodomens · 5 months ago

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Good Omens graphic novel update: June 2024

Welcome to the June update. A lot of behind the scenes work at the moment but we're grabbing the travel sweets, popping in the Bentley and hitting the road. More on that below.

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Events

We've had a lot of queries about when the Good Omens team will be attending events more formally, after some Aziraphale and Crowley spotting at conventions we'd been to previously. Well, we're excited to confirm the first: Good Omens HQ will be at ACME Comic Con in Glasgow, Scotland this September.

We'll be bringing the actual-real-life-home-to-Crowley-and-his-plants Bentley from Season 2 of Good Omens, the first time the car has been made available publicly for fans to come see and get photos with, ahead of its journey back to the set and the start of Season 3 filming.

We also see Quelin Sepulveda, aka Muriel, has been announced for the event for some additional ineffable joy.

You can get your tickets for ACME Comic Con here. We hope to see some of you there.

While we won't be rocking up with the Bentley to this next one, we want to let you know about Ineffable Con which, though sold out in person, is also taking place virtually in July. The fan-run event hosts great panels, auctions and more, with money raised going to Alzheimer’s Research UK, in memory of Sir Terry Pratchett.

Where next? We have - not an exaggeration - a list of about 200 events somewhere from when we asked fans this on Instagram and while we can't promise quite that amount of convention attendance, we're certainly looking to do some more things in future with Good Omens at large. Watch this space.

Good Omens items...

This month has largely seen prototypes and samples for the wider Good Omens merch store arriving, and while we can't share those yet, we are certainly excited to see more fan product suggestions coming to life. That does, however, leave our public item updates a little slim on the ground.

To make up for that, here's some new panels from Colleen:

Also known as, "What could possibly go wrong?" And:

Also known as, "Well why don't you ▇▇▇ ▇▇▇▇▇▇ ▇▇▇ ▇▇!@#▇" or words to that effect, we'd imagine.

Update from Colleen

Following such a positive response to Colleen's piece last month, bringing you behind the scenes into making the Good Omens graphic novel, we are delighted to say that she has agreed to write something for our updates going forward! For June, she's going more in depth into the process of flatting and the technicalities of colouring on screen vs print. Over to you, Colleen.

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I mentioned the other month that I use a flatter to help me with technical work on GOOD OMENS, and here is a great example.

This is my original, hand drawn line art.

And this is the flatting file which was created using the MultiFill computer program.

It will put your eyes out.

The raw image above demonstrates how the color art lines up solidly under the line art. If it doesn't do that, you get a weird phenomenon in print called ghosting, a tiny little line of white around each segment of color. I had this issue on one major project and ended up redoing every single color file after I got a look at the first printing. Nearly two weeks of work.

The same image with the line art on top.

The layer order looks like this.

Background copy is the clean, line art layer.

I scan the art at 600 dpi, then make the blacks pure black, the whites pure white. Then I convert back to greyscale, then RGB, then duplicate the layer. Then I delete the white on the upper layer so the line art layer is transparent but the blacks on that layer are not.

If you have blacks on a layer that has been multiplied, you can see slight color through those blacks. You want pure black.

The lower layer is where I use the MultiFill program to create the digital flats. First you use MultiFill to drop in the random colors, then the companion plug-in Flatter Pro to make those colors seal under the black lines.

This probably sounds like a silly thing to worry about, but if the flat colors don’t line up perfectly under the black line art, you get the dreaded ghosting I mentioned. You can see it below in this image. It’s a tiny little white line that will appear around the black lines and color areas.

This drives me nuts and is an absolute nightmare to fix.

It’s a very common problem, especially for people who work for web and don’t anticipate the problems going from web to print.

What looks great on your computer can cause big problems in print.

From here, my flatter Jul Mae Kristoffer, who is way over in the Philippines, does flatting that is more in keeping with the areas of color I want to isolate. As you see on Layer 1.

But again, this is still pretty ugly, and not what I would use for final color. Flatting is a technical issue, not a creative one, though in some cases a flatter will make choices you may use. Most of the time they don't.

Here is my final color page.

Sometimes my MultiFill flats are so wonky I have a hard time getting my brain to snap out of what I see before me. If I get stuck, it's a good idea to just pick at it and come back to it later.

If it really, really bothers me, I’ll take the MultiFill flatter layer and desaturate the color so it doesn’t poke my eyes out.

Here’s an example. The digital flat file.

The desaturated flat file that doesn’t make me want to poke my eyes out.

And the final color.

Sometimes I just put in a solid white layer so I don’t see the flats at all. Flatting is there to allow you to easily pick spots to color in, and doesn’t usually appear in the final work.

Sometimes I want to create my colors using transparent color over a white ground, which is more delicate in the final.

Here’s an example from Neil Gaiman’s American Gods. I also selected all black line art here and converted it to sepia to give it a vintage look. Except for the fairies. They’re green.

A colorist must also consider color settings.

Different clients can have different requirements. I find these color settings, which I got from the Hi-Fi Studio, to be pretty solid. I use them as my default for all my projects unless otherwise requested. If your publisher has other settings, they’ll usually send you a csf file which you can upload to Photoshop. The program will save your files and you can just switch between them as you need them.

This tells the printer things about the paper and the spread of the ink you will use. That’s what dot gain means - it makes printed color look darker than intended, so you set up your files to account for it.

When you hover your pointer over each box, it will tell you what each setting is supposed to accomplish.

Another really important thing to consider when coloring comics is color range.

I’m coloring this book in RGB range, but for print you use CMYK.

I’m about to confuse the heck out of some people with this post, I’m afraid. But here we go.

Here is this shot in RGB color setting.

And here is the same page calibrated for print in CMYK.

The biggest shift is in the reds. Print cannot match those reds.

You may not see much difference here, but it’s the sort of thing that drives artists crazy.

A computer should be perfect for conveying exactly what you want, right? It's all just 0's and 1's, binary information, and that information should be the same from one computer to the next?

Nope. Not even close.

First off, computer monitors must be calibrated. You can use a computer program or a tool that measures the color on your computer screen and then adjusts the color to an industry standard.

Have you ever been in an electronics shop where a bunch of TV shows were on display, all of them playing the same show, and have you noticed how different the color was from one TV to the next?

It's like that.

I freely admit I don't pay a whole lot of attention to calibration, but if I were a professional photographer I would. I'd have a little spectrometer attached to my screen and software would adjust my monitor to the best possible standard range. As it is, I just use the default setting on my computer and hope for the best.

If your monitor is properly calibrated and your art is shown on another monitor that is properly calibrated, the art will look almost identical from one monitor to the next.

YAY!

But from one monitor to the next, that's about where the resemblance ends.

Colors are calibrated to something called RGB, or Red, Green, Blue.

All colors come from a mix of red green and blue. At their greatest intensity, all the colors in the spectrum together become pure white light.

This is why RGB is called ADDITIVE color, because you ADD colors from the spectrum to get ALL colors, and all colors create the entirety of the rainbow, and pure white light.

Your computer monitor, your phone, your television, all images are created via light using RGB, a gamut that covers all possible colors that can be created.

That's a lot.

And that's why some of the colors you see on your TV or phone are so deep and intense.

For the widest possible range of color and intensity, you use RGB.

Unfortunately, there is what you can create with light, and then there is what you can create with pigment or ink. And that is why printing what you see on your computer almost never looks exactly like what you see in a book.

For printing, you must use a color setting known as CMYK. This stands for Cyan, Magenta, Yellow and Key/Black.

In printing, the pure blue is actually Cyan and the pure red is actually Magenta.

CMYK color range is not created by addition, but by SUBTRACTION. In order to get the color you want, you reduce the percentage of one of the four colors for ink mixing. Mixing all colors, instead of giving you white, gives you black.

The gamut of CMYK is limited to what can be created with ink.

You've probably heard the term four color press? This is what that means. Four colors, with each color of ink run over the paper on rollers which, combined in varying layers of opacity, create all the printing colors you see.

But remember, what you see on your computer monitor and what CMYK gamut can handle are two different things.

Now, I’ve been really careful with the color settings on Good Omens, so there haven’t been any big surprises, but let me show you a snippet of a project I did for the French fashion house Balmain.

The RGB version:

And then this shot after it was converted to a CMYK file for print.

That's a pretty big difference.

Now, you see this shift mostly with vibrant colors, such as that pink there. But other colors hardly changed at all, right?

That's because this issue is about range of color. CMYK and RGB occupy a shared range which you can see demonstrated by this graphic I got from Wikipedia.

The graphic shows the RGB ranges supported by various digital formats. SWOP CMYK is the most common range my publishers use. Note that the bounding box line shared by the RGB and SWOP CMYK formats shares about half the range space. So whatever RGB colors you use that are outside that range will be digitally converted to the smaller SWOP CMYK range.

And you may not like what you end up with.

As you can see, some of the most ethereal and intense colors get lost outside of the SWOP CMYK boundary.

A look at the Dark Horse Comics color settings in Photoshop. Theoretically, this information should prevent your art from looking like mud on publication.

Now, after I just told you the dangers of coloring in RGB then converting to CMYK for print, I tell you I am coloring Good Omens in RGB anyway. There’s a couple of reasons for this.

Remember, RGB give you a greater range of color, so it can be to your advantage to preserve your original files using a format that gives you the greatest range.

Again, here is the unaltered file.

You can see what the CMYK result will be simply by clicking the Proof Colors button here. This will show you how the art will convert.

And the Gamut Warning will show you which colors are out of gamut range for print.

The intensity of that magenta and that purple in the top right are not going to print true.

This is how it will look in final.

So even if you do what you think is perfect color on screen, there is no way it can perfectly convert to print. Almost everything will involve a little bit of compromise.

Even though you have to consider the color shift issues, preserving your files in RGB gives you greater wiggle room, especially if you get lucky someday and get to work with a printer who can print in 6 colors. Or maybe some technology you don’t know about will pop up and make printing super glorious. Who knows.

Regardless, you should keep an eye on that gamut and color for CMYK print, while preserving your master files in RGB.

Until next time.

#good omens #graphic novel #good omens graphic novel #graphic novel kickstarter #colleen doran

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nanamiscocksleeve · 4 months ago

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A Helping Mouth

Warnings: MDNI, lactation kink, mentions of motherhood, mild threesome, clit play A/n: Here it is you milk-loving sluts (said with a lot of love). Enjoy. Not really proofread.

You swiftly walk back to your office, rolling your shoulders and sighing. It had been a long day but in a very satisfying way. Returning to the office as a new mother had left you with some doubts and trepidation but as your mother had said as she waved you and your husband off into the car, it was good for everyone to spend some time away from the baby.

Your mother had sent a few photos throughout the day reassuring you the baby was fine and truthfully, you found that she was right. After nearly 3 months of maternity leave, it felt good to be back at work, talking to people your own age and teaching strategy. And the glorious joy of dressing up to go to work, in your neat office outfit, which your husband had been kind enough to buy a new dress shirt for. You had settled back into the rhythm, humming as you turned down the hallway.

Nothing could go wrong. You were wearing comfortable shapewear, your makeup and hair were neat, there was nothing that could go drastically wrong today. But as you took a step, you felt an odd tingling sensation in your breast, followed by a stab of pain hard enough to make you stop and put a hand up to the mound of flesh. No, it couldn’t be…you had pumped earlier in the morning.

But as you hold yourself, you feel the undeniable sensation of warm wetness, and when you remove your palm, see the unmistakable smudge of milk on the front of your brand-new dress shirt. You feel tears in your eyes, the new shirt your husband had brought now going to smell like milk like the rest of your ugly tees and sweats, the pain intensifying and being felt in your other breast now. You let out a small gasp and try to keep walking, hoping to make it to your office, to do what, you didn’t know. You didn’t have a breast pump here, no change of shirt, nothing. The first day back at the office was ruined, all your joy turning into embarrassment and slight defeat.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” You halt as you hear your husband’s voice, unsure whether to feel relief or shy away from him. You turn to face the tall, blond, muscular sorcerer walking towards you.

“Kento I-” You pull your hand away from your shirt and he sees the milk stains dotting your front.

“Oh, honey.” He comes closer to pull you near him and you angle your body to prevent your milk from staining his clothes as well.

“It hurts Kento…I’m in so much pain and…I didn’t bring a pump, or towels, or a change of clothes.” The tears spill from your eyes and your voice trembles. “I should have listened and waited a little longer to return to work.”

“Ssh. Nonsense. These things happen. I bet it happens to more mothers than you think.” He soothingly strokes your back and you try to calm down.

“You can wear one of my shirts. Come to my office sweetie.” Kento puts a hand on your waist and starts leading you in another direction and you lean against him, praying no one sees you this way.

“I need a bra though. These things have gotten all huge and floppy now so I can’t not wear a bra.”

A low rumbling chuckle leaves your handsome husband’s lips. “They aren’t huge, they’re just fuller now. And I have one of your bras in my office.”

Your eyes widen, your inconvenient lactation momentarily forgotten. “Excuse me?”

“You kind of left it here by accident. Remember that time right before your delivery, you got really horny and we fucked on my desk?” Kento whispers slyly into your ear, making you blush. “It’s been in my desk drawer since then.”

“You pervert,” you manage to crack a smile. I’m shocked at this inappropriate behavior but right now, I’m willing to let it slide. Oh, thank god for the drawer bra.”

Kento leads you into his office and closes the door. As usual, you sit on his desk, the position so normal that it didn’t feel right to sit anywhere else. You wince and hold your breasts as pain stabs through them. Kento removes the buttons one by one, eyes darkening as he sees your soft flesh, the cream-colored bra also victim to your milk, leaving two round stains seeping into the cups. He licks his lips.

“Kento…” you say blushingly as you see his expression. “Stop looking at me like a starved man.”

“A starved man I am right now darling.” He lets the shirt hang off your shoulders and undoes your bra, pulling off the straps and carelessly throwing the stained garment onto his desk chair. Your lovely nipples were on full display, softly leaking little beads of creamy fluid. He languidly dips his head, making you gasp, as he draws one of the aching buds into his mouth, suckling, feeling his cock harden as the sweet fluid hits his tongue.

You moan softly, yet you’re helpless to push him away. You’d had sex in his office before, but somehow having him nurse from you felt far more intimate and taboo and you resisted, albeit very weakly.

“Kento no…not here…” you whimper, despite feeling the wonderful release of pain along with a throb of carnal pleasure between your legs.

“Don’t your breasts hurt?” Kento releases your nipple with a pop, milk dripping steadily from the hardened peak towards your naval. He goes to the other one, and you let out a weak cry of relief, feeling aroused yet bashful at the same time.

“They do but…Are you enjoying this?” He lets go of your nipple, licks his lips, and looks up at you, in a trance.

“Darling, you taste absolutely divine. Do you have any idea how long I’ve been wanting to sample you?” His tongue laves the very tip of your nipple, licking a bead of milk from it, making your brain fog up in a sexual haze.

“R-really? This? Milk?”

A low hum leaves his mouth as his lips latch onto you to suckle again, and you can’t help but cradle his head, softly playing with the beautiful hair, and whimpering as he helps you. Your free nipple, stimulated by the action on the other leaks freely, pearlescent beads flowing onto your body which he kept rubbing off with his thumb, licking it clean in between his tender sucks.

Your pussy is wet and you can feel the slick folds gliding against each other and you squirm slightly from the attention, feeling like you might sob from the comfort of your husband’s mouth. It was so unconventional but it was helping you and the fact that he found you so appealing even when you were dripping milk felt so powerful, your inner feminine psyche purring at the knowledge. You begin to rhythmically rock your hips, getting friction between your legs.

Noticing this, Kento smoothly slips a hand under your skirt, pushing aside your soaked panties to gently rub and roll your clit. You rest your head on his shoulder, moaning quietly, feeling the promise of a very delicious orgasm building inside your belly, heat rushing towards your core, little jitters of electricity running down your spine. Kento’s name spills from your lips, your fingers tightening on the locks of blonde strands, eyes closing in ecstasy…

“Nanami, I wanted to-” All the sensation stops suddenly as Kento’s office door opens, and Kento, lips glistening with milk, glances over your shoulder to see Satoru walk in, dumbfounded.

Gojo’s eyes widen slightly in shock, and you’re thankful your back is facing the door, torso covered by your shirt, but it was obvious what was happening. Kento’s hands deftly hold the sides of your shirt closed, pulling you closer to him. He licks his lips clean and talks in a surprisingly calm voice to Satoru.

“Gojo. Didn’t expect to see you.”

“And I would have expected you to lock the door Nanami,” Gojo says pointedly. “What’s going on here?”

Nanami’s voice becomes professional and practical within a split second, the transition amazing you. For a man who was discovered nursing from his wife, he was surprisingly composed.

“As you’re well aware Gojo, my wife just had a baby. We might be a top Jujutsu school, but we lack a lot of facilities needed to support women returning to the workforce as mothers. I was merely helping my wife through a difficult time. Since you are not a parent, you wouldn’t be aware of how painful it is for milk to remain for too long in the breast.” Kento looks at Satoru almost defiantly as though daring the white-haired man to challenge him.

Instead, your heart skips a beat as you hear a soft click of the door being locked, and footsteps as Satoru moves towards both of you, coming behind Kento and leaning over his shoulder to take a look. Your clit throbs in unbearable arousal, wedged against Kento’s calloused fingertips as Satoru, eyes covered by the blindfold, appraises you, before asking Kento, “Won’t it get messy if her other breast leaks freely like that?”

He gestures towards the streaks of milk on your abdomen and Kento nods. “It does.” Then he looks at you. “Honey, do you think you want extra help?”

You turn red but at the same time, the idea is appealing, turning you on even further. Kento suckling your milk was one thing, but the thought of another man also drinking your milk simultaneously was turning you on like crazy. You look at Kento and there’s no judgment in his eyes. You nod your consent and Satoru shuffles to your other side as Kento lets go of the shirt, and takes your free nipple into his hot, moist mouth.

It was exquisite, feeling your milk flow, the soft sounds of slurping filling the office as both men drank your milk like an elixir, Kento’s fingers softly rubbing circles on your engorged nub, your gasps and moans filling the air as they suckled to their heart’s content.

Never in your wildest dreams had you imagined yourself in a situation like this but it was happening and despite knowing this began as a pain relief exercise, you were thoroughly enjoying yourself, body becoming a mess of pleasure as your nipples flowed freely into their eager mouths.

“She’s so sweet Nanami,” Satoru murmurs before quickly placing his lips back onto your moistened bud.

“Don’t hog all her milk Gojo. Remember she’s mine.”

An urgent need grips your body as they talk, Nanami’s fingers bringing you close to the edge. The fact that they were fighting over you, over your milk, was another delightful turn-on, suckling almost competitively now, as though trying to see who could drink more from you.

Your cries become shamefully louder and abandoned, feeling the way your abdominal muscles clench, the way your pussy flutters in desperation until a hot wave of gratification hits your body like a shock, sending pulses of pleasure flowing through your body. Neither of them stop, gently nudging you through your orgasm until the last throb of pleasure vanishes away.

Neither of them let go, however, and continue to drink from you.

“Guys?” You tap their shoulders, and they look up at you, Kento’s whiskey eyes hazy, Satoru’s blue ones covered by the blindfold, both of their mouths still suckling relentlessly. “Shouldn’t we stop?”

At your question, it becomes obvious neither of them wants to let go. With a sigh, you lay back on Kento’s desk, folding your hands behind your head, letting them nurse, playing with their hair. If they wanted to waste an afternoon on your breasts, the least you could do was get comfortable.

@actuallysaiyan @aether-seawolf

@makingtimemine @snwvie

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earlycuntsets · 2 months ago

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"DEATH COMES RIPPING" - SPOOKY ISSUE

'THE BLACK PARADE, THE TRIUMPHANT NEW ALBUM BY MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE MAY HAVE A TRAGIC STORYLINE, BUT IT'S NOTHING COMPARED WITH WHAT THE BANDMATES ENDURED TO BRING THE DISC TO LIGHT

PHOTOS BY JON WIEDERHORN PHOTOS BY JUSTIN BORUCKI

STANDING ON A BALCONY nine floors above the teeming streets of New York, Gerard Way overlooks the city in which My Chemical Romance began assembling their ambitious new album, The Black Parade. The newly peroxide- blond frontman takes a deep drag from a cigarette and exhales with a sigh. He knows he shouldn't smoke, but it's his only remaining vice.

"If I hadn't been sober, I think The Black Parade surely would have killed me," says Gerard, who climbed on the wagon in 2004. "We were going insane the whole time, and I had to cling to my sobriety to stay even a little lucid. The album became like this beast that was consuming us."

Following up a release as successful as 2004's Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge, which sold 1.4 million copies in the U.S. alone, is never an easy task. And the various scares the band experienced as they worked on the new record-drummer Bob Bryar had a near-fatal staph infection, Gerard seriously injured his foot, and some restless spirits at the studio where they recorded kept them all on edge-did not help matters. And neither

did MCR's decision to make The Black Parade (Reprise) a concept disc. Together, Gerard and his bandmates-Bryar, guitarists Frank lero and Ray Toro, and bassist Mikey Way (Gerard's younger brother)-decided to craft a record about a dying young man who is visited by a cast of strange characters that help him examine his short life.

But diving into the conceptual deep end proved well worth the hassle. The Black Parade is not only MCR's most realized offering; it's also one of the most eclectic, enjoyable rock records of the year. One listen to tracks

like "House of Wolves," "The Sharpest Lives," and "Dead!" makes it clear that My Chemical Romance can still rip a good metallic punk tune. But the bandmates are now equally influenced by epic albums like Pink Floyd's The Wall, David Bowie's The Rise & Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars, and Queen's A Night at the Opera.

"A lot of bands from the scene we came from try to strip down their music to 'keep it real," Gerard notes. "But the real you is what you've always had inside you and what you strive to be. So when we started compiling the material we had written, we were like, You know what? This has to be a huge, theatrical record."

MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE started working on ideas for The Black Parade in the back of the bus while on 2005's Warped Tour, after which they flew to New York and rented a rehearsal space for two months. And that's when things started to get weird.

"I was living in Queens, and I had to commute on the subway every day," Gerard says. "I was suddenly very scared and paranoid. I felt more like an outsider than I ever had, and I had no confidence, which is bad when you're trying to work on a record. And I had no anonymity because there were a lot of teenagers on the train." In reaction to the young fans he encountered on the underground,

Gerard wrote "Teenagers," a T. Rex-style romp with the chorus line, "Teenagers scare the living shit out of me." "The song came directly from commuting when school let out and being so terrified of them," the singer says. "I was like, Wait a minute. These are the same people that listen to our band. Why am I scared? And I realized it was because they're scared, too. Teenagers are made to feel like they can only solve their problems with violence. They lash out at each other in a really volatile way." After several months experiencing the joys of mass transit, MCR had completed only a handful of songs and felt like a change of scenery (and climate) might do them some good. "I couldn't keep working in New York," says Gerard. "We wanted isolation."

id: Gerard leads the way to what will likely be the band's second platinum record

So the group relocated to Paramour Mansion, outside of L.A. Nestled high in the hills, the deluxe estate overlooks the trendy Silver Lake area and boasts spacious rooms, a gorgeous pool, lush gardens, a state-of-the-art recording facility-and a few special guests.

"The place is definitely haunted," Gerard says. "Doors would slam, and the faucets would turn on. You'd get a bath drawn for you of freezing-cold water in your room, and you wouldn't know why." As unnerving as its mischievous spirits could be, the Paramour was also inspiring, and contributed to the haunting vibe of songs like "The End" and "This Is How I Disappear." More important, it led Gerard to come up with the bleak, surreal concept for the record. "I would have these night terrors, where it would feel like someone was choking me, and my heart would stop and I would stop breathing," he says. "I would wake up in the middle of the night and write these notes to myself, and one of them read, 'We are all just a black parade.' So I started thinking about how this band is kind of a black parade, like a funeral-procession rock thing. And I used that idea to piece together this story about the idea that when you die, death comes for you however you want." Gerard molded his concept into a narrative about a character he dubbed the Patient, whose strongest memory from childhood is of his father taking him to the city to see a parade. Two songs into the album, he dies, and the black parade comes for him.

"During the rest of the story, he meets this entity of death and all these characters, like Mama, who represents anyone who's ever lost their son in a war," Gerard explains. "It's almost like these Canterbury Tales, where he goes along on this journey, and at the end he decides whether he wants to live or die." With the concept in place, My Chem made the songs as sweeping and theatrical as Gerard's lyrics. They accomplished this, in part, by combing through their own eclectic record collections and pulling choice elements that would set them even further apart from other melodic punk bands.

The first two minutes of "Welcome to the Black Parade" stemmed from Gerard's love for Broadway musicals, the horns in "Dead!" came from Mikey's interest in Blur and Britpop, and the jaunty feel of "Mama" was informed by Tom Waits and Nick Cave. But the most poignant moment on the record, "Cancer," was (unlike its morbid moniker) something of a pleasant surprise. "I was very upset about something in my personal life, and that's when that song came out," Gerard says. "It was really spontaneous, and it was recorded pretty much live with Rob [Cavallo, the record's producer] on the piano and me in the vocal booth. Then we added layers of drums, which gave it a certain urgency. It's the song I'm most proud of because it was the most pure emotion we've ever captured, and it gets such an immediate response. You can't shake what the song is about."

As the CD approached completion, some members of the band began to show signs of nervous exhaustion. The group was scheduled to fly to England to play the Reading Festival, and as the date grew near, Toro, who has a fear of flying, got noticeably agitated. Then, after the band tracked "Welcome to the Black Parade," which was originally called "The Five of Us Are Dying," the guitarist lost it.

"I thought I had this premonition," Toro explains. "I was flipping through the TV channels, and on the news. there would be something about a plane crash, and every time I woke up in the morning, the clock would say 9:11. I was playing Tomb Raider the night before the flight, and on the level I ended up at, there was this whole flashback to a plane crash. So right before the flight I was like, 'That's it. I'm not flying."

Despite his misgivings, Toro boarded the plane, and when My Chemical Romance returned to L.A. (all of them still very much alive, thank you very much), The Black Parade was completed without further incident. Listening back to the record, the band members were in awe of what they had achieved and eager to share it with their fans. "There was a real confidence that came to us," Gerard explains. "Having survived it, we felt like we were changed forever. I feel different as a performer now, and I think we really finally discovered who we were as a band." But just because MCR were done with the record didn't mean that it was done with them. About a month later, the band was shooting a video for "Famous Last Words" with director Samuel Bayer (Garbage, Smashing Pumpkins) on a set featuring walls of flame, when-seized by the moment-lero grabbed Gerard's throat from behind and wrestled him to the ground. The singer rolled one way; his foot went the other. "It bent completely backwards, and I heard a crack and felt this agonizing pain," Gerard recalls. "I tore all the ligaments in my foot, but I got up and continued to perform." "I didn't know what I was doing," says lero, shaking his head. "I wasn't trying to hurt him. I felt awful. I still do." Gerard's injury was serious, and he still walks with a cane, but it paled in comparison to what happened to Bryar. At the end of the shoot, the pyro was so intense, the drummer could feel his leg burning, but he stuck it out for the rest of the song. By then, he had a nasty third-degree burn. And the misfortune didn't stop there. Bryar didn't take his antibiotics regularly, and he failed to keep the wound clean. By the time the band got back from a brief tour of Japan, the burn was severely infected. Then Bryar's face swelled up and, after doing the MTV Video Music Awards preshow telecast and a special club show, stumbled into a hospital emergency room in intense pain. "I thought I'd be there for 10 minutes, but as soon as they saw me, they got all serious and gave me an IV and said they had to do a CAT scan," recalls Bryar."They did all these blood tests and kept me there for 14 hours." Doctors discovered that Bryar's leg infection had spread to his blood and caused an abscess in his face that was creeping dangerously close to his brain. If it had been left untreated for another two days, he could have died. "The whole thing was such a nightmare," Bryar says. "This doctor stuck my cheek with a needle about six inches long and the width of an IV tube. Then he went in and out of the inside of my mouth with the needle about 10 times. Fortunately, the treatment worked, and Bryar left the hospital three days later. With tragedy averted, My Chem are now focusing on touring for The Black Parade. They'll be in Europe for most of November, and when they get back at the end of year, they'll start rehearsing for a U.S. arena tour that starts in February. "We want to put on a full show with props and staging like The Wall," Gerard says. And MCR plan to keep the Patient alive long after they're done touring for the CD. "I would love to see the story turned into a play or a musical, and it could easily be a movie," enthuses Gerard. "Making this record, we cut ourselves open every day, pulled out every organ, and lay them on a table so it would be something we're completely happy with. We want The Black Parade to exist for a long time." "The whole hole thing nightmare. This doctor stuck my cheek with a needle about six inches long and the width of an IV tube." -BOB BRYAR

"I felt more like an outsider than I ever had, and I had no confidence, which is bad when you're trying work on a record."

-GERARD WAY

12/2006 revolver - mcrhollywood on flickr

#a spooky mcr for spooky year #sleep lore #black parade production #the paramour #the paramour 2006 #black parade era #12/2006 revolver #mcrhollywood.blogspot.com #my chemical romance #gerard way #mcr #frank iero #ray toro #mcr scans #scans

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genshingorlsrevengeance · 5 months ago

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(Honkai: Star Rail) Stelle, March 7th, Himeko, Natasha, Seele, Bronya, and Firefly missing you

Alternate title: "From the Aqueous Star with Love"

A song from Zeta Gundam got me feelin a certain way, so we doing a song fic. Whether reader is dead or not, tis up to interpretation. (Song: Mizu no Hoshi he Ai wo Komete - KOM_I)

Aoku nemuru mizu no hoshi ni sotto Kissing softly the star of water that sleeps in blue,

Stelle watches the waves of the ocean crash against the shore.

This time, the Astral Express took her to a planet mostly consisting of water, it was a beautiful sight that she got to indulge herself in, along with her companions.

She instinctually looked to her left, about to make some witty comment regarding how such a romantic view was so cliche-

...Only to remember you aren't here with her.

The smile that was originally forming vanishes quickly, her expression growing more somber.

As much as the pain in her heart aches, she knows that you wouldn't want her to dwell on your absence.

Forge ahead, that was the way of the Trailblazer.

(Stelle) "One day, I'll get to tell you about this planet."

Fists clenching, she walks along the path, not looking back.

Stelle's phone wallpaper of you and her smiling together is what reminds her to keep pressing on.

Kuchizuke shite inochi no hi wo tomosu hito yo A person who lights fire of life,

March sits on the side of her bed, staring at her wall of photos, each one bringing a bright smile to her face as she recalled each memory.

But it was shortlived, as her sight inevitably caught sight of the side of you and her together.

Throughout her journey on the Astral Express, she had met countless individuals. Plenty of which she cherished like dear friends and missed them dearly, and plenty more she hoped to never see again in the vast universe.

And there was no one March missed more than you at this very moment.

The photos she took of you two ranged from hilarious to lovey-dovey, to kinda inappropriate for the situation, but each one inflicted a pang of sadness and joy.

Standing up from the bed, March walked over and grabbed one of her favorite photos: One where she was dramatically kissing your cheek as you were laughing, a moment she recalled with perfect clarity.

(March 7th) sigh "I'll add some new photos onto this wall, just you wait!"

Toki to iu kin'iro no sazanami wa The time, the golden ripple,

Himeko put down her coffee as the Astral Express was still in transit, watching as the stars slowly passed her by.

Her eyes glanced to her left, feeling something missing in her usual routine.

And of course this moment didn't feel right: after all, her lover was currently absent.

But that didn't stop her from always putting your favorite teacup next to hers, in some small hope that you'd take your spot like always.

Himeko knew better, logically it made no sense for you to show up right now.

Even so, it was a sign, that she'd be waiting to see you again, no matter where the Astral Express takes her, she'll be able to have you in her arms sometime, somewhere.

Instead of saying anything, she quietly chuckles to herself, going back to her coffee.

Yet, there was a hint of sadness in her recognition, one that her friends could always sense everyday that you were gone.

Ozora no kuchibiru ni umareta toiki ne is sigh from the lips of the sky,

Natasha slumps down on her bed, sighing as she felt how cold it was to the touch.

Another long day taken care of, with many more patients out of her office.

Usually it didn't bother her as much, but these days the solitude was starting to become deafening.

Especially when you weren't here to greet her like always.

Natasha's hands massage her temple, knowing that spiraling wouldn't bring you home, any more than her patiently waiting.

Even the Moles could tell that Natasha wasn't the same without you here to wrangle them in, or give her a loving embrace.

Rolling to her side, she turns to the empty side of the bed, her hand reaching out and feeling only a cold sheet.

(Natasha) "...Just be patient, Nat..."

Saying nothing else, Natasha eventually falls asleep, the only warmth coming from her blanket.

Kokoro ni uzumoreta yasashisa no hoshitachi ga hono age yobiau The stars of kindness buried in heart flame up and call to each other,

Seele just kept herself busy instead of thinking about how much she missed your voice.

There was plenty to do, but every now and then, she would catch herself thinking that she couldn't wait to tell you a story from that day, or something interesting she found.

Only for the excitement to be culled instantly, remembering that you aren't here.

(Seele) sigh "Damn it..."

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Seele shakes her head and looks up to the sky longingly.

(Seele) "...Don't keep me waiting too long before I see you again."

Next time she saw you, it'd probably result in both a punch and a kiss.

Seele thought you drove her insane when you were actually here.

She had no idea how much she'd miss that feeling when you were gone.

Namima sasurau nampasen no yo ni Like wrecked ships wandering on the waves,

Being the Supreme Guardian was no easy task, but it was work she found satisfaction in.

Especially now that her people didn't have to live in constant fear anymore.

She had help from the Astral Express, Seele, Natasha, and so much more.

Yet, it was your aid she craved the most, and was one she wouldn't be able to receive or reciprocate it.

Bronya exhales from her nose, putting down her pen for just a moment.

Looking at the picture frame of you and her smiling brought a small tear to her eye, one she quickly wiped off.

It wasn't goodbye, not really. At least to her.

(Bronya) "You're not gone…You're…just not here right now."

One way or another, she'll be able to tell you everything that's happened when she sees you again.

Mo nakanaide ima anata wo sagashite iru hito ga iru kara Don't cry, any more, because now there is a person looking for you, Omae ni aitai yo to Dying to see you...

Firefly strolled quietly through this planet's field, feeling the wind against her skin blow gently.

It was nights like these that usually got her thinking about plenty of things that brought all sorts of emotions out.

This night being no exception, especially since you were on her mind.

Firefly closed her eyes as a pang of sadness tugged at her heart, but that wouldn't stop her.

Even if it took the rest of her life, she would wait for you.

...No, she would find you first. She'd burn so bright, that it'd be impossible for you to miss her, no matter where you are.

(Firefly) "There isn't anyone in this world who can live alone...Not even you."

Taking a deep breath, she let her armor rapidly form, before the thrusters let her take off at blinding speeds, shooting off towards the stars.

#honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail headcanons #stelle x reader #march 7th x reader #himeko honkai star rail x reader #natasha hsr x reader #seele hsr x you #bronya hsr x reader #firefly honkai star rail x reader #stelle honkai star rail #march 7th hsr #himeko hsr #natasha honkai star rail #seele honkai star rail #bronya honkai star rail #firefly honkai star rail

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its-avalon-08 · 4 months ago

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why did you leave me (cl16)

part2!

multipart story! prev || next

summary : charles and y/n have always been best friends. but y/n has been in love with him forever. when charles starts dating a new girl, out of respect y/n distances herself. but how much is too much?

✦ pairing - charles leclerc x female reader

Y/N sat alone in her room, the soft glow of her laptop screen casting shadows across her face. She had made the decision to distance herself from Charles, but the weight of that choice pressed heavily on her heart. She opened her photo gallery, scrolling through the countless pictures she and Charles had taken over the years.

The first photo she stopped on was one of them as children, covered in mud after a day of playing in the rain. Charles' bright green eyes sparkled with joy, and Y/N's face was lit up with a wide grin. She remembered that day vividly.

"Come on, Y/N! Let's see who can make the biggest splash!" Charles had shouted, his laughter infectious.

They had spent hours running through puddles, completely carefree. Y/N wiped a tear from her cheek, her heart aching with the memory of simpler times.

The next photo was from their high school graduation. Charles had his arm around her, both of them wearing their caps and gowns, faces beaming with pride.

"We did it, Y/N!" he had said, his excitement palpable. "We’re finally free!" He hugged her and spun her around as Y/N giggled.

"Yeah, we are!" she had replied, feeling a mix of happiness and sadness at the thought of their lives changing.

She continued scrolling, each photo bringing back a flood of memories. There was the picture of them at his first major race win, where she had jumped into his arms in celebration. Another showed them sitting by the campfire during their family camping trip, the warmth of the flames reflected in their eyes as they shared stories late into the night.

Tears streamed down Y/N’s face as she relived each moment. Her silent sobs wrecked her delicate frame. She came across a photo from the night they had celebrated her birthday. Charles had surprised her with a cake, a beautiful pendant and they had spent the night dancing and laughing.

"Make a wish, Y/N/N!" he had said, holding the cake in front of her.

She had closed her eyes, silently wishing that they would always stay as close as they were then. The irony of that wish now felt like a cruel twist of fate.

Unable to hold back her emotions any longer, Y/N began to sob openly. The realization of how much she loved Charles and how much she would miss him was overwhelming. She was losing her best friend and it was all her fault. Her tears glistened and she tried to silence herself but all the memories came rushing back. Every hug, every time Charles made Y/N feel loved, every fight, every milestone. Her large golden retriever, Elvis, sensing her distress, jumped onto the bed and nuzzled his head into her lap.

"Oh, Eli," she cried, wrapping her arms around the dog's neck. "I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t know how to let him go."

Elvis licked her face, his warm presence offering a small comfort in her despair. Y/N buried her face in his fur, her shoulders shaking with the intensity of her sobs.

"I love him so much, Eli," she whispered. "But I can’t stand the thought of being so close and not being able to tell him. I don't want to hurt their relationship. She is so lovely and he is so happy. They deserve this and here I am, making this about me. But I can't do it. I can't stay close because it just hurts too much."

She looked back at the screen, her vision blurred by tears. The next photo was one Charles had taken of her when she wasn’t looking. She was sitting by the water, lost in thought, with a serene smile on her face.

"He always captured the best moments, Elvis," she said to the empty room, her voice breaking. "He always know how to make me feel special."

Max whined softly, pressing closer to her, and she stroked his fur, finding some solace in his loyalty.

"I wish things could be different," she continued, her voice barely a whisper. "I wish I had the courage to tell him how I feel. But he’s happy with Camille, and I can't ruin that for him."

As she scrolled further, she found the last photo they had taken together, just a few days before he told her about Camille. They were sitting on his couch, watching a movie, their heads leaning against each other. It was the last time things had felt normal, the last time she hadn’t felt the crushing weight of her unspoken love.

"I’ll always cherish these memories Charles," she said, her voice trembling. "But I have to let you go. It’s the only way I can protect my heart."

With a final sob, she closed her laptop and buried her face in Elvis's fur, letting the weight of her decision wash over her. She knew it would take time to heal, but for now, all she could do was grieve the loss of the closeness they once shared.

taglist : @hiireadstuff @starz4me1 @f1fantasys @aundercover @ohthemisssery @ggaslyp1 @hadids-world @matcha---matcha @f1luvUr @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @timmychalametsstuff

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles lecrelc #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x female!reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 #formula one #y/n #best friends #ava speaks #charles leclerc fanfic

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flemingsfreckles · 7 months ago

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He’s Ours

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Preview: you and Jessie have your first baby

Warnings: child birth I guess? But there’s nothing graphic related to it but better safe than sorry 🤷‍♀️

WC: 2.1k quick read :)

A/N: this was just a one shot because that middle photo of Jessie gives me massive baby fever, i want to have her babies.

“Oh he’s perfect, you made him perfect.” Jessie whispered to you. Her forehead was pressed firmly to yours and her eyes locked with yours. Tears were running down your face from both exhaustion and the overwhelming reality that you just gave birth to your first child. “I’m so proud of you, I love you. You did amazing.” She whispers, punctuating her sentence with a kiss on the forehead. Too tired to give her a verbal response you just closed your eyes and softly smiled at her.

Jessie had praised you all through pregnancy, she always made time to tell you how beautiful you looked, how well you were doing, how good of a mom you already were to the unborn child. It was no surprise to you how encouraging and supportive she had been, she was always your biggest fan, even before you were pregnant.

Jessie had been over the moon when you finally got a positive pregnancy test. The two of you had been in the process of trying for months, resulting in nothing but a pile of negative tests and more doctors visits. When you finally saw the two lines on the test you nearly passed out, Jessie had to help you sit down on the bathroom floor, getting you a wet washcloth for your face to help cool you off.

That moment from 8 months ago flashed through your mind when Jessie had held a washcloth to your forehead as you pushed, it felt like just days ago when you found out and here you were, already having the baby, time had flown by.

Your couple of two was now a new family of three. A nurse came over, placing your son on your bare chest, draping a blanket on top of both of you.

“Congratulations, Moms.”

“Thank you.” Jessie says to the nurse.

You crane your head downward to look at your son. He had a little bit of hair, his skin was red, his eyes closed. It was surreal, you couldn’t believe that the baby you had grown was finally in front of you. His hands were spread across your chest, gripping ever so slightly at your skin.

You bring up a hand, gently cupping your son's butt and back, his body fitting into your hand. Jessie brings a hand up, you watch as she hesitates before softly placing her hand slightly overlapping yours onto the upper back and shoulders of your baby. You can feel how lightly she is pressing, as if he’s made of glass.

“You’re not going to break him Jessie.”

“I know that in my mind, but I can’t, but he’s just so small.” She looks up from where she was fixated on your son, you can see tears on the brim of her eyes. The three of you stayed like that until the nurses came back to take him for some quick newborn testing. You almost didn't let them take him, you wanted to keep holding him, but they assured you it wouldn’t be more than 30 minutes and they’d have him back in your arms shortly.

You're not sure how much time had passed when you woke up, you’re whole body sore, feeling nearly hungover, tired, dehydrated, a hint of nausea.

“Hi.” You turn to see Jessie, she’s sitting at your bedside, holding your son who has been clothes and swaddled into a blanket. He’s quiet, awake but not making noise. “They brought him back a little bit ago, sorry I didn’t wake you but I figured you could use the sleep.”

“Thanks.” You have to admit you were a bit sad you missed his return but you were grateful your wife let you sleep. You couldn’t stop looking at her. The way she was holding your little bundle of joy, she was smiling, she hadn’t stopped smiling since she heard his first cries. She was looking down at him, making faces at him. She was wearing a black hoodie and a pair of training shorts from a day ago now. Her baby hairs sticking out from the hood in every direction. She hadn’t slept in nearly 26 hours but she looked perfect.

She had been at training when you called her. You actually had to call Janine, who was still working on her ACL recovery, she always had her phone on her unlike your wife. Jessie was set to take time off from training starting next week, a week before your due date, but your son had other plans and decided to grace you with his presence early. Janine thankfully answered on the first ring and went running to find Jessie. You were grateful that Janine was allowed to be running, or else she would’ve had to slowly limp or crutch to find your wife. You could hear Janine shouting at Jessie from across the pitch, followed by some talking but you were too focused on a contraction to listen. Seconds later Jessie was calling you, you hung up with Janine and got on the phone with Jessie, you stayed on the phone with her all the way until she came running into your hospital room. You were admitted to the hospital late that night and didn’t meet your son until early the next morning.

It was such a surreal feeling, watching Jessie hold him. You had seen her with other babies before, other player’s babies, friend’s kids, or just random fans' babies that she’s held for photos. That was truely what made you want to have a baby with her so badly. She gave you baby fever you had never had baby fever before you were with her. But nothing compared to the baby fever you felt seeing her with her hand on your son. You were ready to start over and have more of her babies the way she looked at him and looked at you with overwhelming love in her eyes.

Jessie stands up, walking over to you, holding out the bundle of blanket and baby. “Do you want to hold him? I can, if you’d rather rest more, just, you did all the hard work. I want to let you hold him if you want to.”

“Jessie you put up with me pregnant and trying to get pregnant for over a year, I think if anyone had the hard job it was you.” You extend your arms to her, she gently places your son on your chest. Jessie had been a saint during your pregnancy, getting up early with you when you were sick, staying up late to rub your feet. She would stand behind you and hold your belly, taking the weight off of you for as long as you’d let her. She would jump out of bed late at night to make you a snack no matter how early she had to get up. She would FaceTime you for hours on end when she had to be away. Jessie couldn’t have been a better partner.

“All his newborn tests came back good. I wrote down all the details so you could have them if you wanted but everything’s good. How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a bus a little bit.” You both laugh. “But I guess that’s normal.” You point toward your water bottle and electrolytes that sat next to it, Jessie hands you both.

“The nurses and doctors are going to come check on you in a little bit too, they came in while you were sleeping but I asked if they could let you be for a bit. Since you didn’t have any issues and your vitals were fine they said they’d come back in an hour.”

“Okay.” You appreciated the heads up from Jessie, the doctors, the exams, the appointment, the stress, the test, were your least favorite part of pregnancy and she knew it, she tried her best to ease your discomfort and anxieties about it whenever she could. You were happy to know that part of parenthood was pretty much over, back to routine.

It was peaceful for a second before your son started wailing.

“What do I do? I don’t know what to do?” You’re wide eyed looking at your wife. A deep feeling of panic begins to build in your stomach. The reality that you’re now responsible for this little baby boy’s life sets in. You’ve never been a mom, you have no idea how to be a mom.

“It’s okay babe. You do. Do you want me to take him?” She wanted to help, her goal was to ease your stress. It was stressful for both of you being new parents but she knew you were experiencing it a little differently with the hormones from birth.

“No, I just don’t know what to do!” You’re on the verge of tears, you feel helpless, your son was crying and you weren’t sure what he needed. He was helpless and you were supposed to be the one to help him.

“Do you want to try and feed him again?” Jessie offers gently, you had tried to feed him earlier with the help of nurses but your son seemed to have no interest and it had left you feeling a little defeated.

“I guess.” You were hesitant but you weren’t sure what else he needed, he was warm, being held and didn’t need to be changed. Jessie held her arms out, taking him from you so you could sit up and get your shirt out of the way. While you were adjusting one of the nurses came in, letting you know that if you wanted help or assistance she was there but that you were welcome to do it on your own as well.

Jessie handed you back your son, she had unwrapped him from the tight swaddle. “The nurse said him being skin to skin might help.” You placed your son against your chest, offering him the chance to feed. You maneuvered yourself and your son with the help of Jessie until finally he had latched and was peacefully eating. You felt so relieved, finally feeling like you were doing a good job of being a mom. He ate until his mouth fell open, his eyes now closed as he drifted asleep.

“See.” Jessie whispered to you, “you do know what he needs, you’re his Mom. Even if it’s scary and new, you know how to help him. I’m here with you too, this isn’t all on you babe.” She placed a kiss on the top of your head and you craned your neck up, puckering your lips. She placed her lips softly on yours, not caring about the PDA in front of the doctors and nurses.

“You’re his Mom too Jess, his our baby boy.” You never wanted Jessie to feel like she was less of his mother because she didn’t carry him or birth him, she was equally his Mom as you were.

“I know, he’s ours.” You both can’t pull your eyes off the sleeping boy, laying across your chest, your arms holding him to you.

“I love you.” You quietly whispered to her, not wanting to wake your son from his sleep.

“I love you.” She whispered back, placing a blanket across both of you again, letting you drift to sleep while she kept a watchful eye on both of you, the two people she loved the most in this world.

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming imagine #jflem #woso imagine #woso x reader #canwnt #portland thorns

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littlelamy · 9 days ago

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Could you do Reader meeting Drew at carnival or something? Reader is there with her two friends and Drew is there with his, Odessa and co. Both groups are in odd numbers, meaning someone always has to sit with a stranger during a carousel ride. This time it is Reader’s turn to sit with a stranger while her friends sit togehter. Same for Drew. Reader and Drew get put together in a ride. Some awkward tension, attraction and cuteness. As soon as they get off the ride tho, Odessa runs up to Drew hugging him, so Reader gets the impression that he is taken and is like ‘’Oh…guess I won’t ask for his number…..:/ ‘’ and walks off. But then at some point Drew sees her again at the carnival and well…….

hope you like it !!⭐️ the air was thick with the smell of popcorn and cotton candy, the sounds of laughter and screams from carnival rides filling the night. you, along with your two friends, were making your way through the throngs of people, the vibrant lights casting a kaleidoscope of colors around you. your friend jenna was already eyeing the ferris wheel, while casey was determined to find the most ridiculous hat she could wear for a photo op.

“can we please go on something that won’t make me want to hurl?” you joked, clutching your stomach as you passed a spinny ride that looked like it could launch someone into orbit.

“oh, come on! where’s your sense of adventure?” jenna teased, giving you a playful shove. “we’re here to have fun!”

just then, you caught sight of a group across the way: a guy with tousled hair, a cheeky grin plastered on his face, surrounded by a couple of friends, one of whom was waving her arms like a lunatic. you couldn’t help but smirk; they looked like a band of misfits, and the guy—drew, you overheard someone call him—had an easy charm that was hard to ignore.

as you wandered toward the carousel, the sound of cheerful music inviting you closer, drew’s laugh carried over to you, loud and unapologetic. he had that kind of laugh that made you want to roll your eyes, but you also found yourself grinning. the carousel was in a weird configuration: you and your friends were odd-numbered, meaning one of you would have to sit with a stranger. guess who that unlucky bastard was? you.

“looks like it’s you, champ,” casey said, nudging you forward as jenna giggled. “have fun with your mystery date!”

you shot her a mock glare before stepping up to the ride. meanwhile, drew was being pushed by his friends toward the same ride, and you both ended up on the same horse—his a little to the left of yours. great.

as the carousel began to spin, you shot drew a sideways glance. he looked at you, and for a moment, everything blurred into the background. “so, this is fun,” you said, trying to fill the awkward silence. “i’m thrilled to be your carousel buddy.”

“thrilled? oh, it must be my lucky day,” he replied, his smirk making your heart flutter. “what’s your name? or should I just call you my new favorite stranger?”

“y/n. and you’re drew, right?”

“guilty as charged. so, what brings you here? other than the joy of being awkwardly paired with a stranger on a spinning ride?”

you laughed, the sound a bit louder than you intended. “just here for the chaos, i guess. you know, cotton candy, overpriced games, and the constant threat of nausea.”

“ah, a connoisseur of fine carnivals! i like that,” he grinned, leaning closer. “i, too, have a refined taste in fine cotton candy and the thrill of potential vomiting on a carousel. it’s a true art form, really.”

you shook your head, laughing. “you’re ridiculous. but in the best way.”

the ride continued, the two of you exchanging jokes, the initial awkwardness fading into something more comfortable. you caught yourself sneaking glances at him, taking in the way his lips curled into a smirk and how animated his expressions were. he was cute—like, really cute.

but as the ride slowed to a stop, reality came crashing back. you were both about to disembark when suddenly, a blur of energy rushed up to drew. “drew!” she squealed, throwing her arms around him. it was odessa, the friend from earlier, and the two of them looked way too cozy. your heart sank as you realized that maybe drew wasn’t available after all.

“oh… guess i won’t be asking for his number,” you muttered under your breath, forcing a smile as you stepped away. you could feel the bubble of attraction deflate like a popped balloon. you waved goodbye to your friends and started to walk away, trying to ignore the sting of disappointment.

time passed, and the carnival lights danced around you, but your mind kept drifting back to the moment with drew. you were beginning to think you’d never see him again when, out of nowhere, he came sprinting back into view. his friends were trailing behind him, and he was looking for something—or someone.

“hey!” he called, spotting you. you turned, a little surprised he even remembered your name. “you didn’t get my number!”

“yeah, well, you were kind of busy being hugged by odessa,” you replied, crossing your arms defensively.

“trust me, it’s not what it looks like. we're just friends,” he said, rolling his eyes. "want to grab some cotton candy together? i promise to share, but only if you’re willing to do it like true adults—by faceplanting into it.”

your heart did a little flip at his invitation. “okay, but only if you promise to eat it straight off the stick like civilized humans.”

drew laughed, his eyes lighting up. “deal! and who knows, maybe we can find a ride that doesn’t require sitting next to strangers. unless you’re into that. i’m not here to judge. my friends and i have a running bet on who can make the most ridiculous small talk on rides, and i could use some competition.”

he led you through the carnival, weaving between the crowds, his hand brushing against yours like he was testing the waters. your heart raced as you made your way toward the ferris wheel, its lights twinkling like a galaxy above you. “this is the best ride for some real fun,” he said, leaning closer as you waited in line. “you get a killer view of the carnival and the chance to make out in the moonlight if you play your cards right.”

“oh, really?” you shot back, trying to sound nonchalant, though your cheeks felt hot. “is that a guarantee?”

“i’m just saying,” he said, a wicked grin spreading across his face, “i can be pretty persuasive. or maybe it’s just the cotton candy talking.”

as you climbed into the gondola and it began to rise, the world below you shrank, the lights of the carnival twinkling like stars. you could feel the excitement building, your heart racing not just from the height but from being so close to him. drew leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. “you know, this would be the perfect time to kiss someone,” he murmured, mischief dancing in his eyes.

“oh, is that right?” you replied, challenging him with a smirk.

“absolutely. i mean, who wouldn’t want to steal a kiss while overlooking a carnival filled with chaos?” he asked, leaning even closer until your lips were mere inches apart.

in that moment, everything else faded away. the noise of the carnival, the lights, the world—it was just you and drew, suspended in that gondola. you could feel the heat radiating between you as you closed the gap, your lips meeting his in a soft, tentative kiss that quickly turned hungry. he tasted like cotton candy and adventure, and you lost yourself in the moment, the kiss deepening as you melted against him.

when you finally pulled away, both of you breathless, he grinned like he’d just won the jackpot. “so, how was that for some carnival fun?” he teased, clearly pleased with himself.

“definitely more exciting than a roller coaster,” you admitted, your heart still racing.

“well, the night is still young,” he said, his grin widening. “let’s see what other trouble we can get into.”

as the ferris wheel creaked to a stop, you couldn’t help but feel that this was just the beginning of a wild night filled with laughter, chaos, and maybe a few more kisses.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafecameroninterlude @sstargirln

#drew #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey x you

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stillfacingthesky · 1 year ago

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being trans is such a mindfuck. nobody knows who i am. i dont need to come out, im fine as i am. i hide behind my clothes. i dont recognise myself in the mirror. i dont know if i ever will. i want to transition. im scared of change. i want to be seen and known. i am in danger. queer joy is beautiful. i am more open than a queer person used to be able to be. someone like me was murdered yesterday. i saw their face on the news, and the reporter used the wrong name. wearing mens’ clothes brings me joy, and the joy is reminiscent of a little girl. i want to be pretty. my skin doesnt fit and my voice is not mine. im scared i might love my father more. i dont need to come out, i can manage this all. im going to die someday anyway, it wont matter. a kid was staring at me in the bookstore today and i saw my past in their eyes. i wonder if they saw their future in mine. i want to be someones boyfriend. i am my brothers sister. all bodies are beautiful except mine. god created grapes but not wine and wheat but not bread. god hates fags. there is something wrong with me. if i ignore it, itll go away. its not going away. it hasnt gone away in seven years. i dont want to be a stereotype. i love brash vulgarity. my mother thinks i am beautiful. i share her face. i know ill regret it if i never come out. i dont want to waste my life wearing a costume. i dont know if i want to sacrifice the life that ive had for the life i could have. someone out there understands me. someone else would kill me without regret. someone would cry if i was gone. someone would praise my killer as a hero. there are photos and illustrations of people like me in the past. our history has been erased. theyre still trying to erase us. i dont know if the present is worth the future. i want to be happy. i dont feel like i deserve it. ‘female’ leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. ‘woman’ makes me see stars. i am one but not the other. i am the ghost of the person i want to be. i encourage others and love them regardless. i am a hypocrite. ive been in hiding since i was thirteen. i want to be loud. my mother spent nine months creating me. i will spend the rest of my life creating myself. i am scared. i am angry. i am beautiful and sickening and i want to rip my skin apart to make space for something new. my rage is glorious. they will never understand. i do not need them to. i am so lonely. i am an artist and i want to be a masterpiece. they call my creation mutilation. i dont want to make my parents sad. i want my brother to like me. i am visibly queer. that man shouted at me to smile because he was treating me like a woman. what i have right now is enough. i want more. i don’t know if ill ever have it. if i die tomorrow, i will be buried in a dress. it will be a dress that is already in my closet, a pretty dress that i havent worn in years.

#transmasc #trans #trans*#queerness #queer

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envy-of-the-apple · 6 months ago

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the jjk naga au is getting to me……..i fear im terminally ill with thoughts about it (seriously, top of the food chain is such a yummy series (?) and im soso obsessed with how you've written gojo’s and geto’s characters, i reread your works everyday, i just can't get enough! ^^)

and i hope you don't mind if i share a Thought i've had :3 (i was going for an mc who used to draw/sketch/make art just for this specific scenario)

Imagine that your time on the island's barely dragging on. There's only so many berries to pick and so many times you can braid Suguru’s hair into elaborate styles. You're bored, stranded on an island with these two naga captors and their (adorable) hatchlings.

Well, there's always playing with the hatchlings, or tussling with Satoru (he calls it playtime but you're far from amused when you get a faceful of sand when he tugs your legs out from under you) but you miss your alone time. That little bubble of yours. Ah, privacy.

Like that'd happen, but you can dream.

It's a stroke of chance when Nobara comes to you with her new haul of human paraphernalia, all too excitedly. A leather satchel. Some printed photos of nameless faces with scenic backgrounds. A waterlogged cell phone, practically unsalvageable. A journal with pages so thoroughly soaked, it falls apart in wet clumps.

“What are these?” You can hear her rummage through the bag, her nose wrinkling slightly. “Smells weird.” And so you look over to see her glaring down at a (relatively new) set of oil paints, sealed away in the bag. It's likely that she picked up on the scent of the strange chemicals.

Your eyes are bright with hope as you gently pull it out of her hold. Ready to answer her million and one questions.

…

After all this time that you've thought of what you'd wished to be able to do, you're at a loss. You've got a wall to the cave to yourself, a set of oil paints and a makeshift brush from the wood of this one particular tree off the side of the island. The only thing you're missing right now is inspiration.

A muse.

Satoru and Suguru are snoozing. Peaceful and laid in each other's arms. you can appreciate the quiet to yourself.

You hear familiar shrieks and playful yells of the hatchlings' name.

The slight bit of quiet, then.

Nobara and Yuji are wrestling in the water, arguing over something in a mix of clicks and curse words. The sight is an endearing one, but moving too quick.

So you do some searching inward.

And you paint what comes to mind. What you've felt this whole time.

…

“What's that?” Ever the curious one, Nobara rests her head on your shoulder to peer over at your artwork in progress. She doesn't understand any of it—and she wouldn't. Your human upbringing is leagues different from hers.

“... Home.” You murmur, and Nobara’s glancing up at you in wonder because of the way your eyes glisten, the way your hand lingers over to paint in a fine detail.

“Well, it was my home.” You smile back at her, and she's at ease. You're not sad—no, she'd make it everybody's problem if you were—and then she makes sure to know everything about the scene you've drawn.

“What's that?” She gestures. Careful not to smudge the paint off, index outstretched to a figure she doesn't recognise.

“That's a lamp. When it gets dark, we switch it on so there's light. Like the torches in the cave, you see?”

“Torch? Hmm… and that?”

It seems that talking about your old home brings a warmth to your voice. Nobara beams up at you all giddy as you explain, eager to learn more. Eventually Yuji slinks over to listen as well, more so to the sound of your voice than what you're saying.

You sound happy, the pair can tell. Like when you taste a berry sweeter than the others, or when you tell them stories of your own to lull them to sleep. They like the chime of joy in your voice, and neither stops you from rambling about your once-home.

It's a moment of peace. and warmth.

Yet it shatters for you when you feel a strong muscled tail coil around your waist, that familiar sense of having your space invaded taking over. A very intrigued Satoru looms over you, eyes glinting as he takes in the sight. You know that something's off—he seems more punishing with how tight he holds you.

“Home, huh?” Satoru repeats, and even the hatchlings can tell that's their cue to leave. Nobara offers you a lingering glance, almost pouty before she slithers away, following after her brother.

…

The next early morning, you find your home gone.

In a sense, it's a bitter joke to be played on you. Not only were you never going to be back at your own place, even the expression of the idea was taken away from you. Just like your freedom was. your choice. The wall of the cave was bare, not a hint of the paint or the sentiment lingering behind. As if someone hit a total reset. Paints nowhere to be found, your canvas scrubbed clean.

Suguru stretches out from behind you, one of the first few to wake up, wrapping you in a lazy hug, before he follows your gaze. You'd call the soft laugh that rumbles in his chest cruel. Mocking your homesickness in that loving way only he could manage.

“Must've rained last night.” He comments at the absence of your artwork, and you wish you could pinpoint at least an inch or sarcasm in his words. You nod quietly, and he draws you in closer.

Cold lips brush against your temple.

“The only home you need is with us.”

The sand under your feet is drier than your throat.

(oh my god im sorry if i rambled too much, i hope its not annoying ^^;;)

jaw dropping. amazing. wHAT????

I love how anon made Nobara's characterization so much sweeter and innocent. Though it's probably cuz she's younger in this fic...considering she can still stay on land. And satosugu not even wanting you to THINK of your old home is so accurate. I feel the more they learn your language, the more eager they'll be to display ownership.

Anyway thx anon for making the fourth part! from now on if anyone wants an addition to the naga series turn to the anons not me.

#why is this so good omg #reread it like fiteen times #x reader #yandere jjk #dark jjk #dark gojo satoru #yandere #yandere gojo satoru #yandere satosugu #naga satosugu #jjk naga au #yandere geto suguru #dark geto suguru #dark content #top of the food chain

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whimsyfinny · 1 month ago

Text

He’s a Winchester

Chapter 4

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: It's been a long time since (Y/n) and Dean's paths have crossed. Last time they saw each other it was ‘98 and they were young and living in the moment. Nine years down the Line, their paths cross again, but (Y/n)s longest kept secret is about to become Deans reality.

Slow burn (ish), mom!reader

Warnings: language, alcohol, lots of feelings, Dean becoming a DILF

Chapter Word Count: 6338

MDNI 18+

A/N: annnnd I feel like we can get that ball rolling! Sorry guys, this should have been posted last night but my kid is sick again (germy little fuckers) so I'll post it now! Let me know if you like Deans POV and if you want more of it! Also do we prefer longer or shorter chapters? Lemme know. As always, it's only proof read by moi and my currently highly cold&flu medicated brain, so let me know of any errors. Also feedback is greatly appreciated!

A/N2: GUYS IT GOES WITHOUT SAYING but PLEEEEASE provide your age if you want to be added to the taglist and it isn’t in your blog. This story is tame now but it’s gonna get spicy, and my blog is strictly 18+. So pleeeeease save be a very long job and help a gal out.

Photos from Pinterest

New Readers Start Here: Chapter 1

Previous Chapter: Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Ice-cream went down a treat and the boys were loving every minute spent in each others presence. We were currently sitting in the window booth at the dessert parlour, my second coffee now clutched between my palms as both Levi and I listened to Dean intently. He was telling us some crazy story from his travels, and I couldn't help but smile as Levi hung off every word, urging Dean to become more animated in his narration. The crisp ring of a phone suddenly cut through the air between us and it took Dean a moment to realise it was his. After retrieving it from his jacket pocket, his eyes widened when he saw the caller ID. He mouthed ‘sorry’ to both of us as he answered the phone.

“Sammy!” he exclaimed before chewing his lip. He turned away and toward the window slightly so he didn't speak over us. Whilst Dean was preoccupied, I took the time to turn to Levi, warmth blooming across my chest at the smile that hadn't left his face.

“Hey there trouble, how are you doing?” I reached over to place my hand over his, tracing my thumb over his knuckles.

“This is the best day ever!” he said, his voice practically bouncing with joy and excitement as he glanced at his Dean, still on the phone. “Mom, I have a dad!”

I laughed softly, giving his hand a final squeeze before letting go.

“Yes you do!”

“And he’s cool!”

I laughed again. “Very cool!”

We chatted for a few minutes whilst Dean wrapped up his conversation with his brother - Levi trying desperately to contain his enthusiasm every time his dad was mentioned. It didn’t take long for Dean to hang up the phone and turn back to face us, giving Levis’ hair a ruffle as he looked down at him.

“Hey kiddo, that was your uncle Sammy on the phone,” he shifted his gaze to mine for a moment before turning back to his son, “I’ve sorta left him hanging all afternoon, so I’m going to need to spend a few hours with him, ok?” Levi pouted, which triggered Deans’ expression to soften. He looked back at me with almost pleading eyes. “If it’s ok with your mom, I could come around later? Bring a movie and popcorn?”

Dean had barely finished speaking when Levi beamed at me and I laughed at his electric excitement. If he smiled any wider I feared he’d actually hurt himself.

“Of course, that’s fine with me.”

The boys high-fived before I gave Dean a light hearted warning look.

“But the film has to be age appropriate. Absolutely no slasher films.”

Dean held his hands up in mock defence.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said with a slight smirk on his lips

With that, he said his goodbyes with a pat on Levis’ shoulder and the squeeze of my hand before slipping out of the booth and out of the parlour.

Deans POV

“You have a son?!”

Sam looked just as shocked as I had felt less than twelve hours ago, his eyes wide and mouth agape.

“Yeah,” I grinned at him, “crazy, huh?”

Sam opened and closed his mouth a few times, almost getting words out before changing his mind at the last minute in favour of a different sentence.

“Dean… You’re a dad,” he smiled in disbelief, looking over at me.

“Yeah,” I said again, feeling that goofy-ass grin reappear on my face, “it’s awesome. He’s awesome. I can’t wait for you to meet him, Sammy. He's so fucking cool.”

“I bet he is.”

We sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, my mind creating and then recreating hundreds of new scenarios I’d never thought I’d ever imagine. That I never thought I’d even get the chance to experience. I’m a hunter. I live a wild, dangerous, unpredictable life. But I have a son. A reason to live; to take care and caution for.

“Hey Dean…” Sams’ soft voice derailed my train of thought.

“Hmm?”

“How do you know (Y/n) is telling the truth? That this kid is definitely yours, and she’s not just messing with your head? I don’t mean to sound horrible Dean, but your taste in women can be-”

“(Y/n) can be trusted,” I cut him off, his words souring my mood slightly. I know he’s only looking out for me, but he’s always the first to question when something seems too good to be true. “You sure?”

“Yeah…” I held his gaze for a few seconds before sighing, deciding to explain further when his stare didn't let up. “We were together for almost a year. She was different. She never judged, or got angry when I was a mess after a hunt. She knows what I - what we - do for a living, and she never freaked out over it, or tried to break things off. She would just say, ‘ok, just stay safe out there’, and carry on,” I paused, the memories of our time together replaying in my mind like an old movie. I could see Sam nodding at my words, listening. So I continued. “(Y/n) had just turned eighteen when we met. I took her to prom,” I smiled at the memory, remembering the tremble in my hands as I’d driven to her parents house to pick her up. I’d never felt so nervous around a girl before, desperately trying to get a grip on my nerves the whole drive there.

“Prom?” Sam smirked, a twinkle in his eye, “You took her to prom?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“How have I never heard about this? Did dad know?”

I chewed my bottom lip, feeling the embarrassment heat my skin a little.

“Yeah, dad knew. He never met her, but he still teased me for weeks. You never knew because I never brought her ‘round, and you were determined to get into Stanford. I stayed away a lot back then, trying to work some cases on my own, to get some more experience. But… (Y/n) turned out to be a huge distraction,” we both laughed, the sound light and easy as it filled the car. I reached into my jacket and pulled out my wallet, flicking through the various cards and slips of paper until I pulled out an old, folded photograph. I passed it to Sam and he eyed it before taking it carefully and unfolded it, smoothing out the creases before studying the image. The slight furrow between his brows quickly disappeared as he looked down, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Well I’ll be damned, you really did go to prom.”

He looked it over for a few more moments, taking in every detail before passing it back to me. It had been a while since I’d looked at the image, finding it hard in the past to look at (Y/n)s face and remember that I’d left her behind. But now… now I could stare at this photo all day and feel nothing but warmth. I looked down at the decade old picture, seeing the candid moment captured in time. She had her arms draped over my shoulders, her face in a contented smile as I leant in for a kiss. Her lipstick was slightly smudged and my jacket was nowhere to be seen - small signs of a night enjoyed. I remember her friend snapping the picture before running off with a giggle, passing the developed image to (Y/n) a few weeks later. It was only a few days after that I told her I was leaving, and she’d gifted it to me with a sad smile and lingering kiss. I never normally found goodbyes difficult as they were part of the job. I'd gotten used to them. But saying goodbye to her had been one of the hardest things I'd ever had to do. The promise of staying in touch didn't last as long as we’d both hoped - dad somehow commondering my phone and returning it to factory settings without telling me. I guess it was around that time she found out she was pregnant.

The wince struck my face like a bolt of lightning, guilt and regret hitting like ice in my chest. The years she'd spent raising our kid on her own, working at the local garage in between school runs, Motocross trips and simple survival - it had me feeling nauseous. I should have been there. I've missed so much of Levi's life - of a life I could've had with (Y/n), as a family. My family. I mean fuck, I missed the birth of my son - I never got to hold him as a baby. I made him wait eight years for a hug. I made (Y/n) wait even longer, leaving her with the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Crossing my arms over the steering wheel, I buried my head between them, praying that the tight knot in the pit of my stomach would disappear.

“You ok man?” Sam asked, twisting further in his seat to face me, the well-maintained leather creaking under his weight. I raised my head.

“Yeah… and no. I feel so, so good, like I'm on top of the fucking world, but…”

“But?”

“Do you think she hates me? Resents me? For falling off the face of the earth and making her do all of this alone?”

Sam smiled, a small laugh on his breath as he leant back against the passenger side door.

“Are you serious?”

I shot him an incredulous look.

“Dude…” he started, “(Y/n) doesn't hate you. She will obviously have feelings on the matter, but I think what she's feeling right now is relief, knowing that you're here now.”

I took a deep breath.

“Do you really think so?”

“Dean, I don't think things would have gone as smoothly as you described if she held any animosity towards you. She let you take Levi for ice-cream straight after meeting him. I think that's a good sign.”

I smiled, remembering my afternoon.

“Yeah, she's letting me go over to theirs tonight for a movie.”

“I don't think she'd be letting you into her house if she hated you. I mean, in the thirty seconds I'd met her earlier, she was all kind smiles and soft edges. Definitely not giving off ‘mean vibes’. Plus…” Sam smirked slightly, drumming his fingers on the back of the seat.

“Plus?” I raised an eyebrow, turning towards him.

“There's a chance she feels the same way you feel about her. That hug you shared said a lot.”

I scoffed slightly, finding his words ludicrous.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Dude, you've kept her picture in your wallet for nearly a decade. She was the only long relationship that I've ever known you to have, and you're worried if she hates you.”

“And?”

“When have you ever given a shit about anyone's opinion but mine and dad's?”

His words stopped my racing mind in its tracks, making me think for a moment. My heart suddenly picked up speed, finding it hard to ignore the truth in Sam's words.

“I mean, we were great back then, but she's a totally different person now. She had to grow up fast - there's no way she's gonna put up with my shit now,” I gnawed on my bottom lip, turning to look out of the front windscreen at all of the other parked cars. “I mean, what about hunting? We have jobs to do, I can't just bail on people - bail on you. (Y/n) Doesn't need that sort of chaos in her life, not now that she's got Levi. And I won't bring the hunters life anywhere near him. Fuck, Sammy, what am I going to do? I can't stick around, but I can't leave. FUCK.”

“Dean.”

“Why does this have to be so complicated?”

“Dean.”

“I'm going to end up ruining their lives and-”

“DEAN.”

“What?!”

“Just shut up. Do you hear yourself? You're overthinking shit that doesn't matter right now.”

His abrupt words ceased the hurricane in my brain, slowing both my thoughts and my rapid pulse. I even released the steering wheel from my white-knuckled grip. I replied to him, my voice slower and less panicked.

“But it's important, I need to figure it out.”

“It is. And you can - with (Y/n). You don't have to figure all of this out by yourself, Dean. You can make those decisions together. You guys are a team now, so you can't go off and decide these things on your own.”

I found myself nodding slowly, letting his words sink in. Taking a deep breath I leant back in my seat and ran my hands through my hair before dragging them over my face. I thought for a moment; calmer, quieter thoughts this time as I mulled over what Sam had said. He was right. I needed to talk to (Y/n) before making any decisions. Any stupid decisions that I know she would prevent me from making - like she used to. I huffed out a long held breath, twisting in my seat to face my younger - wiser - brother.

“Yeah, you're right. Look, I'm sorry for freakin’ out, I don't mean to… it's just- this is crazy. I mean Sam, I have a kid. ME. Of all people.”

Sam's eyes softened, his puppy-dog glimmer returning with a small smile.

“It's so crazy. I mean I never thought I'd get to be an uncle! But Dean… this is something good. All the shit we've seen, that we've dealt with and put up with - you especially - you deserve this. Embrace the shit out of this.”

I returned his smile in kind, a warm, fuzzy feeling I wasn't used to filling every fibre in my body.

“Yeah, I will.”

(Y/n)’s POV

Evening was drawing in, the sun starting to set as it neared 6:30 pm. Levi was busy tidying his room as I cleaned the kitchen, the small room bathed in a pink and orange glow. The sunset was calming as night slowly crept closer, the feeling of fall crisp in the air as the sun started to lower in the sky. As I dried the final dish from dinner and returned it to the cupboard I heard a rap at the door. I'd barely acknowledged it when Levi's footsteps came thundering down the stairs.

“Dad's here!” his giddy exclamation bouncing off the walls and bringing a smile to my lips.

“Well, go and let him in then!”

He practically leapt over to the door and unlocked it, swinging it open just as I stepped around the corner. There Dean stood with a happy smile and clean shirt, leaning lazily on the doorframe. His eyes lit up as soon as he spotted Levi.

“Hey there kiddo!” Dean ruffled his sons hair.

“Hey dad! What movie are we watching?”

Dean laughed.

“Why don't you let me come in first, huh? I need to say ‘hi’ to your mom.”

At the mention of me his eyes flicked up to meet mine, the sudden connection catching me off guard as his grin twitched upwards slightly.

Levi stepped back and let Dean in. It was a very rare occurrence for us to have a man in the house, and I couldn't stop the small flutter in my chest at the sight of Dean standing in my small living room. He dominated the space, his rugged exterior a little out of place in our domestic setting. Levi shuffled off to sit on the couch whilst Dean took a few slow steps over to me, his long legs swallowing the distance.

“Hey,” his voice was low and soft, his smile not leaving his lips.

“Hey,” I smiled back, pulling my soft cardigan around me. I took a step back into the kitchen, Dean following suit. “Coffee?”

“Coffee sounds great,” the grocery bag he'd been carrying was placed on the kitchen counter as I filled the coffee machine with water. Watching out of the corner of my eye, Dean observed his surroundings, looking at where we lived - where his son grew up.

“Nice house,” the low softness of his voice was still present.

“Thanks - I'll give you the grand tour later if you like?” I turned the machine on and spun to face him, and I watched as he leant comfortably against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Yeah,” he said, “I'd like that.”

There was a pause in the conversation as we took a moment to look at each other. Really look, as it felt like the whirlwind afternoon we’d had took away our ability to really see each other. I'd been aware of his unchanging fashion and his handsome face, yet I'd forgotten about the soft sun-kissed freckles that dotted his nose, now fading as fall dawned and the sun weakened. I let myself reminisce over those forest-green eyes, how the swirls of jade and golden hazel had entranced me all those years ago. Given the chance, they'd succeed again. His hair was the same soft brown, memories of combing my fingers through those short strands as he slept quickly resurfacing. And those lips. I daren't look at them for the fear of staring too long and getting caught, yet the thought of that plushness against my own mouth had my own lips tingling. I tried my best to hold his gaze and when my eyes slipped to his mouth for a split second, I knew he'd seen it.

He reached out and took my hand, his rough palms gliding gently over my soft skin and squeezing gently.

“I know I said it earlier, but it's really good to see you, (Y/n).” Deans voice stayed low, but it harboured a gravelly undertone that told me that maybe, just maybe he wanted to say something else - something more. When he didn't, I squeezed his hand back, fighting the instinct to lace my fingers with his like I used to. Like when we used to lay under the stars in the field behind my parents house and talk for hours about everything and nothing all at once. Like when he'd lay me down in the backseat of his car and make love to me in the ethereal glow of the moonlight.

“You too Dean,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. With a final smile I released his hand, my own instantly feeling cold. The bubble of warmth and familiarity surrounding us slowly dissolved, Dean eventually clearing his throat and standing up straight. He looked at me again, this time without the nostalgia in his eyes.

“Hey uh… I don't suppose you'd be ok with Sammy coming by? It's just he really wants to meet Levi and I feel bad for ditching him earlier for hours. Plus he-”

“Dean it's more than ok,” I chuckled at his pleading and his desperation for justification. “Sam is more than welcome to join us tonight.”

A tension that I hadn't noticed before was quickly released from his shoulders.

“Are you really sure? I feel like-”

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Be quiet. I would love for Sam to meet Levi.”

He grinned a little at my quiet assertiveness, looking down at his boots.

“Ok, well thanks again though sweetheart. He would've suffered a fun packed night of research and cheap beer in the motel room otherwise,” his teeth flashed with his humorous grin. I returned it before a thought crossed my mind, my eyebrows knitting together.

“Wait, are you guys staying in that seedy motel across town? The one where the janitor looks like a serial killer?”

“Yeah, to be honest it's not the worst place we've stayed in. The Dahmer look-alike creeps me the hell out though.”

I pondered for a moment, taking a lot less time than I should've before opening my mouth.

“Do you… do you guys want to stay here? I mean I have a couch and a spare camp bed. It's not much but at least you won't get murdered in your sleep. Plus I have unlimited coffee and bacon for breakfast.”

I almost cringed as the words left my mouth, kicking myself for practically trying to convince him to stay. Dean looked a little stunned at the proposal, taking slightly longer than I would've hoped to make a decision. I could've smacked myself. “I'm sorry, that's probably the last thing you want, being surrounded by boring domestic life when you have a job to do. Don't worry about it, forget I said any-”

“That would be nice.”

“Wait, what?”

“It would be nice to stay here. With both of you. I'd like that.”

The relief exited my body in a poorly concealed exhale.

“Do you need to run it past Sam first?”

He shook his head.

“Nah, to be honest I think Dahmer 2.0 freaked him out the most, he'll be happy to get away.”

It took all of about half an hour for Dean to jump back in the car, drive across town to the motel, pack their things and drive back home. When he knocked on the door a second time, he had Sam on his heels looking a mixture of elated to be here and really don't want to intrude. Levi was ecstatic to discover he had an uncle as well as a dad, and I was almost grateful for the attention to be directed away from myself for once. It's always been me and him against the world, but being a single mom to a pocket tornado was hard fucking work, and it was a breath of fresh air to be able to sit down on my own couch and drink my coffee in peace.

Dean had insisted on watching Mothra Vs Godzilla despite Levi's hesitation to watch such an old film. Dean won him over eventually with promises of ‘pop culture enlightenment’ and he now sat sandwiched between his two new favourite people - dad and uncle Sammy. The amber glow from the sunset slowly faded to indigo shadows, the only light now in the living room was from the TV and a few scented candles dotted around us. Around an hour into the film I looked over and saw Levi's head resting on Deans shoulder, eyes closed and chest rising and falling with slow, steady breaths. Dean happened to glance up and our eyes locked, an adoring smile on Deans’ face as he looked between me and his soundly sleeping son. So as not to wake him, I pointed to Levi then pointed to the stairs, gesturing to Dean to carry him up to his room. He caught on to what I was asking of him and he manoeuvred his large arms under Levis shoulders and legs, lifting him with an ease I was slightly envious of. Levi was tall, much like his father and uncle, and with being tall came the title ‘big for his age’. He’d reached that point now where I was unable to lift him more than a few centimetres off the floor, and the thought sent an unusual pang of emotion through my chest. Which emotion, I wasn’t sure… Perhaps it was longing? Longing for the clock to rewind back to when he was just a few years old and I could still carry him everywhere on my hip. Maybe it was dread, knowing that he’s growing up so fast and I feel as though the last nine years have passed by in a blur, despite the fact that I’ve barely been able to keep my head above water. Or maybe, just maybe, it was simply the sight of a man such as Dean Winchester looking down at his own child in his arms with such a look of total, unfaltering adoration that my heart was swelling beyond its usual capacity for such affection.

I stood with Dean and headed up the stairs in front of him, leading the way. There were only three doors to choose from once you reached the top of the stairs; my room, the bathroom, and Levis room. And Levis room wasn’t hard to miss, with its poster of ‘types of classic cars’ pinned to his door along with a makeshift name sign that we made together when he was around five. I pushed the handle and opened the door, slipping in first so I could throw the covers back on his bed. It was a swift ordeal after Dean laid him on the soft mattress and I tucked the covers around him. We both left the room and I closed the door quietly behind me, both of us heading back downstairs quickly so as to not risk waking the sleeping kid.

“Well, that is much easier with two people,” I said with a chuckle on my breath as I descended the last few stairs. Before I gave Dean a chance to say anything in response, I stepped into the kitchen, not wanting his reply to make that heavy pang appear in my chest again. “Beer?” I asked, opening the fridge and retrieving a cold bottle.

“Absolutely,” he stepped over to me with his hands buried in the pockets of his jeans, a lazy smile on his lips. I handed him two bottles, knowing he’d give one to Sam. Who, of which, was still sitting on the couch watching the movie.

“So,” I started, looking up at Dean as we slowly made our way back to the living room, “how do you boys normally spend your evenings?” I tried my best to hide my almost playful smirk behind a swig of my beer.

“Now ain’t that a question,” his expression mirrored mine as we both slumped down onto the couch again, much closer together this time now that Levi was counting sheep. Dean handed his brother a beer, barely looking at him as his eyes never left mine. “Oh, you know, the usual,” he started, leaning back against the plush cushions, one arm slung over the back rest and tauntingly close to my shoulders.

“Oh? Feel free to enlighten me.”

“Well, it’s normally spent working on a case, so… researching lore, or on the road, or burning shit that I really hate having to burn. Maybe we’ll go out for drinks, but uh, that’s a rare occurrence.”

I laughed a dry laugh, raising my bottle.

“Amen to that, I’ve not been out for drinks in ages. Not proper ones, at least.”

Dean looked away from me and down at his bottle.

“Huh...”

“What?” I raised an eyebrow at him.

“Nothing, just… I would’ve thought you’d be going on dates and getting taken out for a good time. Like, a lot. ”

I couldn’t help but scoff at his comment.

“Dates these days are few and far between. And good dates are practically non-existent,” I paused, debating giving Dean the gory details before my mouth started working of its own accord. “I got taken out the other day by a guy who drinks kale smoothies and lives in boat shoes… tried to convince me that the church he belongs to is totally not a cult. I mean, he paid membership fees. And signed an NDA. Who does that?”

Dean held my gaze, as though searching for something that he didn’t even know he was searching for.

“You chose to see a guy like that? Dear God, your taste has changed,” his words were meant to be humorous but there was a subtle bite to them. Or maybe I'd imagined it?

I shook my head.

“No way, he was definitely not my type. It was a blind date, and if it wasn’t a blind date, it wouldn’t have happened.”

We both took a swig of our beer.

“I’m surprised,” he said suddenly, “I would’ve thought a girl like you would’ve been swept off her feet by now.”

“Oh, I was,” my words spilled out before I could stop them, “but that was nine years ago and I’m pretty sure he’s moved on.”

It took a breath of silence between us and a pitiful smile from me for Dean to catch on to what I’d said, his eyes widening slightly. He didn’t get much opportunity to reply, however, as Sam stood quickly. I’d almost forgotten he was there, but I'm glad he was as it drew Deans attention away from the red heat rising to my cheeks.

“Hey, uhhh, I’m just going to run to the car and grab our stuff,” he said, jabbing his thumb towards the front door. “(Y/n), when I come back in would it be ok if I used your dinner table to do some research?”

I nodded before speaking again.

“Yeah of course, be my guest. But isn’t it a little late to start doing all that work?”

He flashed a small, almost knowing smile to both myself and Dean.

“Not for us it isn’t. Plus I just… I just really like lore.”

Dean practically spat his beer back into his bottle.

“Really?” he asked his brother with a quizzical expression, “that’s the excuse you’re going for?”

Sam shrugged.

“No excuse. I’m just dedicated to uhhhh, to learning about… ghosts. It’s a real passion.”

“Aw geez,” Dean shook his head.

“Am I missing something here?” I spoke up finally, shooting them both questioning looks.

“Nope, just my little brother is being an idiot.”

Sam just shrugged, oozing with amusement before leaving out the front door to the car.

I blinked away the confusion, however my face must've given away the fact that I still had no clue what had just occurred between the two brothers, because Dean came to my rescue.

“Don't overthink it sweetheart, Sam's just being a pain in my ass.”

“I don't think I'm ever going to understand the secret handshake language you guys have. I feel like you have to be part of the ‘Winchester Boy Scouts’ to get the handbook for that one.”

Dean laughed, the sound pleasant and carefree as he drained the last few drops of beer from his bottle.

“Sam's definitely more of a boy scout than I am.”

“Whatever you say, Winchester.”

He leant forward and placed his empty bottle on the coffee table before turning in his seat so he faced me more.

“So, apart from childcare and Scientology weirdos, what else have you been up to?”

I couldn't stop the amusement from taking over my face at Dean's question.

“You know, you seem very interested in my life for someone who probably forgot I even existed until this morning.”

Deans expression fell slightly and he looked away, like I’d struck a nerve. When he looked up again, there was something simmering in his gaze, and I wasn't sure if it was pain, regret, guilt, or something else entirely. When he spoke, his voice was thick and low.

“I never forgot about you. Not once.”

My breath caught in my throat and my heart stumbled. When I opened my mouth to say, me neither, he carried on before I could get the words out.

“I tried calling in on you once.”

“You- you did?”

He nodded, slowly.

“I was near your parents' place about three years ago and I stopped by, hoping to see you again. Get your phone number and maybe stay in touch - properly this time. But when I got there, your parents didn't look happy to see me,” an almost pained laugh spilled from his throat. “Now I get why.”

I reached out, placing my hand reassuringly on his arm. My own emotions started to spiral. Slowly at first, a combination of pure relief that Dean never forgot. He even remembered where my parents lived, which coloured me very impressed. The other emotion, which was now growing in the pit of my stomach, bubbling and burning was anger. Rage. My parents knew that Dean was Levi's father the moment I fell pregnant, and it was no secret that they held a strong dislike for him, yet I never pinned them petty enough to let their animosity towards him interfere with the chance to set things right. For their grandson to know his father, and maybe, just maybe, act like the family they so desperately wanted their daughter to have. The saddest part was that, even though I was undeniably furious with them, I wasn't surprised.

“Dean, I'm so sorry, they never told-”

“Don't apologise for them, (Y/n). I knew from the moment I saw you today that they never passed on the message.”

My reply was quiet, the hot fury quickly simmering down to cold disbelief towards my own family.

“You're right, they didn't.”

“They told me that you'd moved on. That you had a good job and a husband, and that… and that you resented me for leaving.”

“Fuck. Dean, none of that is true. I have a mediocre job at best, I'm certainly not married - never have been and probably never will. And Dean,” I moved my hand from his arm and slipped it into his warm palm, “I do not resent you.” I offered him a reassuring smile which he returned, tension quickly leaving his shoulders. Squeezing his hand, I continued, “If anything, I should say thank you.”

“Why would you thank me?” He looked puzzled.

“Because you've taken this surprisingly well for a man of your… calibre.”

He looked as though he didn't know whether insulted or flattered.

“Of my calibre?” He repeated, learning back slightly.

“Well, yeah. In just shy of twelve hours you found out you had a son with someone you've not spoken to in almost a decade, you met your son, took him from Motocross straight to get ice-cream, then brought a movie and popcorn around that very same evening. For someone with an entire armoury in the trunk of their car, I didn't expect… I didn't expect this… I didn't expect you.”

“Didn't expect me?”

I smiled, that warmth appearing in my chest again.

“You're a natural father, Dean. You've made everything easy today, and I'm grateful. So fucking grateful, because over the years I've spent near enough every night laying awake, imaging Levi finally meeting you. And I braced myself for every reaction - every scenario - that you could've thrown our way. So, thank you. I mean it. And thank you for believing me.”

“Believing you?”

“Yeah, for believing me when I said he was yours. I think most guys would've demanded a paternity test, especially after all this time,” I couldn't stop myself from picking the sleeve of my cardigan, anxiety creeping in at the thought that he still might ask for one. However, Dean simply shook his head.

“I trust you, (Y/n). I know you're not the sort of person to lie about things like that, so I believe you. Plus…” his eyes shone with something akin to pride, “ you can't tell me that he's not mine. That's a Winchester attitude through and through.”

We shared a laugh. A light, easy laugh that had me looking at him in that overly familiar way. In the same way that would make my heart skip beats in my chest. I simultaneously felt like I knew him like I used to - that we still had that connection, that bond that made it so easy to be around each other. To feel for each other. On the other hand, we’d spent so much time apart, living completely different lives and getting by in such different ways. He'd had adventures, experiences that I would probably never be able to comprehend, and through all of that I'd been here; living in a two bedroom house in a quiet cul-de-sac in a town far too similar to Stars Hollow than I'd like to admit. I went to work, did school runs, went grocery shopping and grabbed coffee with my best friend in the same fucking café practically every day. And last I remembered, Dean was balls deep in credit card fraud. I wanted to make this work so fucking desperately that it almost hurt. I wanted Levi to have his dad around, to have those experiences boys thrive off with their fathers. I don't expect Dean and I will ever live under the same roof or even be together again, but I'm pretty damn sure that we can be friends, and that is something that would rock Levi's world.

The sound of the door opening and closing startled me from my thoughts as Sam let himself back into the house, sliding the locks and chains into place before turning to face us. He carried two duffle bags, dropping one beside the couch and taking one with him to the table, placing it down carefully so as not to make too much noise. He unzipped it and pulled out a laptop and a small stack of books, holding them up for us to see, like a prize.

“I just… fucking love ghosts,” his tone was unconvincing yet he grinned like he knew something we didn't before taking a seat and getting to work. Dean and I shared a look before erupting into laughter, trying painstakingly hard to keep quiet.

“Is your brother from a different planet? Wait no, scratch that, you're both equally as strange as each other. Earthlings or not, you're certainly cut from the same cloth.”

Dean feigned hurt with a hand on his chest yet the grin never left his lips. He muttered a few things about Sam picking his moments before standing from the couch, jabbing his thumb towards the kitchen green eyes on mine.

“Another beer?”

I felt my grin stretch further across my face, my heart doing a little dance at the way he looked down at me, like he just wanted to sit and talk about everything and nothing all at once - just like we used to. I nodded, trying not to let the way the soft glow from the candles in the room made him look like ‘a night well spent’.

“Yeah, I'd love another beer.”

Next Chapter: Chapter 5

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