#also hopefully I don’t take fucking decades to write more….

[werewolfrevenge]

Uhhh kinda hypnotic insanity chapter one?

This is just focusing on team vigilante (yes I’m calling them teams like s0nic heroes, also setting up their dynamic with eachother nothing too serious errr anyhow

It’d already been a long week in general Casey just wanted to relax for once shit the best vigilante in nyc has gotten that wish so far hell the black haired vigilante was even about to get to have some special time with the hottest babe in the world well that was until Leon pushed Casey off of him and put a finger over Casey’s lips

Casey gave a loud huff “Ay what’s wro-“ Leon quickly cut Casey off “I hear something no someone near the fire escape” Leon’s words were hushed a low whisper, Casey’s attitude immediately shifted going on high alert grabbing a nearby baseball left haphazardly against the couch. The window to the fire escape rattled loudly before it open a gush of cold New York winter weather flowing into the poor joneses apartment but whatever….or whoever landed into the apartment with a loud THUD

Casey throw the baseball bat at the intruder to which Leon shot Casey a confused expression almost as if to say “really? Throw our only line of defense? At the attacker?” Casey turned to Leon and gave a sheepish shrug, the bat hit its target who hissed in pain “what the fuck case?” A voice called out both Leon and Casey’s guards immediately dropped, Leon groaned in annoyance while Casey immediately perked up and hugged the mysterious figure while Leon turned on the lights to reveal Rapheal who currently wear a brown trench coat and hat “Yo! Raph what’s up dude ya gave me a big scare ya can’t just break into someone’s apartment man!” Casey’s voice was a mixture of amusement and some minor frustration. Rapheal sighed softly “look m-“ the hot tempered turtle paused “what pronouns are yeh usin’ today case?” Casey titled their head before gaining a goofy smile and putting raph into a headlock “it’s a girl day!” She answered happily.

Raph grunted at the sudden headlock before he just let it go “alright then sorry doll….its just look I gotta there’s somethin’ really important really crazy yeh feel?” He asked as he broke away from the headlock quickly deciding he didn’t want to let it go Raphael pushed her away with a frustrated look, Leon cleared his throat with an unamused expression “well it better be damn good to just enter into our apartment like you own the place!” The telekinetic put a hand on his hips with a stern motherly expression which caused both Raphael and Casey to settle down completely Casey was more so the one actually worried by the stern look she knew that look…..she’d prefer not to poke an angry bear with a stick!. Rapheal held up his hands in defense “okay yeh just calm down!” He exclaimed as he pointed one of his only three fingers at Leon who scowled “tell us why ya came here or I’m going sho-“

Leon got cut off by Casey who used her hand to cover her fiancé’s mouth up quickly to avoid any further infighting of the group “okay raph what he just said” Casey didn’t actually remember what Leon had just said but if she pretended she did then everything would be okay! Raphael grunted in frustration as he sat down on the ledge of the fire escape “alright well I’m a father now!” Both Leon and Casey’s eyes widened Casey jaw went slack and Leon’s nose twitched before both shouted out “WHAT?” Leon followed up the what with rapid fire questions “like is this biological adoption? Did ya steal a baby? Raphie? What the actual fuck?” Leon hissed in frustration or fear neither Casey or raph could tell!. Raphael closed his eyes and started gesturing with his hands a common occurrence with him “soooo I broke into a run down test facility and maybe I found a lil’ baby turtle….maybe hypothetically”

Leon blinked “so that just makes me think you did that” Casey also blinked “babe he only said hypothetically that doesn’t mean it’s true” Leon shot Casey a quick glare “babe?” “Yeah?” “It’s quite pretty time” Casey blinked in confusion before pouting “ahh screw ya!” She replied before she laid her hand onto Leon’s shoulder Leon just patted her head in response, raph finally spoke up again “fine yeah….thats what happened but look she was a baby all alone they just left the kid there! I had to do something!! Don’t yeh get it?” The turtle started on an angry rant before Leon held out a hand “Nobodies judging you” oh…..they weren’t judging him but weren’t people meant to judge you? Why weren’t either of these humans telling him he’s too impulsive or that they should have called them first before acting….weird? Raphael mentally shook it off “ah sorry man just pulling yer ponytail” Casey snorted at the remark while Leon just let out a deadpan “ha so funny!”

Raphael took a short breath before he continued “I just felt so bad for her I couldn’t leave her alone so I decided to take her….named her lita she’s the sweetest thing ever but she has these sad eyes like a kicked pup ya know?” Casey nodded “leonie says I often look like a kicked puppy!” Leon glanced over at Casey with a raised eyebrow “I don’t think I’ve ever said that!” Leon paused his bickering with Casey for a reason to ask a question that hit him “wait wait wait where is lita now? Because she’s definitely not here” Casey chimed in “unless she’s the invisible turtle!” Both Leon and Rapheal let out a small chuckle at Casey’s comment. “Ehh nah case I actually left her with mikey….”

Casey’s jaw went slack her face twisted into complete and utter confusion “what?” Is all the usually loud and brash vigilante muttered, Leon’s brow furrowed in disbelief “your talking to them again when did that happen” his voice was soft and sympathetic a motherly tone through and through. Raphael nodded “nah I’m just talking to Mikey again and it’s a long story alright” the red masked turtle snapped slightly he didn’t mean to snap he never did….he didn’t understand why he snapped at people he cared about last time that happened….nevermind. Casey shook her head blinking before she sighed deeply “well sit the hell down raph cause we gotta a lotta time to listen pal”

#if anyone wants me to explain the team thingy I will cause uhh I might have too uhhhhh #also hopefully I don’t take fucking decades to write more…. #hypnotic insanity #🪦 my writing 🪦 #my aus 🎥 #also ofc I had to include Caleon they are literally one of the only couples I have in here leave me alone #also also Casey is genderfluid so Casey will be referred to with different pronouns a fair bit! #shit one last thing everyone (besides lita) are adults! #the humans are all 23 to 25 and the turtles plus jennika are 19 to 20

[kosmicdream]

The FATE of FEAST FOR A KING

.. and Nasty Red Dogs… 

And some other miscellaneous thoughts about comics, writing, and time.... AND ENDINGS...

============= 

As I’m approaching 10 years on FFAK and NRD is currently 5, I’ve been reflecting a lot on How far this journey with comics has taken me and how far I still have yet to go. For those unaware, my first webcomic was actually Eggshells, which started in 2011, but i only started posting pages publicly in 2013. It too is unfinished, but its planned for 7 chapters. (I’m currently working on chapter 5, which probably will come out early next year.) I have 9 ongoing comics I’m working on. NINE!! 3 of those are FFAK related. (FFAK, After Dinner Treat, and the prequel series “Help.”) It is so many comics though. And beyond that! I have two other stories I’ve been working on for the past few years in secret, one being Nice Blue Cats, which I might still draw as a comic someday.. As well as a series of “one shots” that is meant to be its own collection. Slugmom and “The Teacher & The Fairy” are part of these one shot collections. Which, uh, it was designed to help me practice writing short stories. Which TT&TF is now going to be three parts long, and roughly 300 pages. So I guess that’s short enough…? Ha.. laughs… Anyway, as I was saying.. Sometimes I’m sure, readers might wonder. “Do you ever feel overwhelmed, with so many projects Kosmic?” Yeah dude. I sure fucking do. I got 9 of them! That’s more than a full pokemon team of projects that are potentially a decade + of work. A couple of them already are a decade old/older at this point. (Praeymoon is actually one of my oldest-lasting projects, even tho its first chapter only finally released in 2023.. I first attempted to draw ch1 back in 2016, but was unable to finish it and scrapped the “full color” angle i was trying then. ) All my current ongoing comic projects are as follows: Feast for a King, Nasty Red Dogs, Eggshells, The Teacher & the Fairy, Replacer, The Eyes of Miasma, FFAK: After Dinner Treat, FFAK: Help, are all written. The only one which isnt fully written is Praeymoon, which I don’t mind because the way that story is organized is almost more of a sandbox-fantasy world of mini stories. I’ll be honest, if you havent heard of Replacer or The Eyes of Miasma, I don’t blame you- its not that i don’t like those stories. They just kind of are the “most neglected” comics yet I’m also kind of amazed they exist at all, like I DONT know how I found the time to draw over 100 pages for both of them. They also have fully written outlines and all things considered, are probably only going to be under 400-500 pages in length. But that’s still a decent amount of work there. Its been ten years since I more or less started making webcomics… and as I plan, and try to calculate all my projects for the next 10 years, my main priority at the moment is well.. Finishing all of these fucking stories one way or another. Its hard! I don’t know if I can as I put way too much on my plate. But at the same time like.. Whatever. I could easily drop most of them, if I felt inclined to - but I don’t. They are my library of work, and I’ve sort of made an artist oath to myself that I will see as many of them to the end as I can. I’m excited that three are very close to its end. (Nasty Red Dogs, The Teacher & the Fairy, and Eggshells.) After that well.. I’ll see what I can cross off my list next once I get there.. That’s still going to take years to get those done. But hopefully not too many. 

[Spoilers for potential LENGTHS of FFAK/NRD.. And other things.. I speak very transparently about writing and working on comics here AND including my thoughts on ENDINGS.. You’ve been warned]

I’m comfortable enough sharing that the fairy comic is 3 parts, Eggshells is 7 chapters, but when it comes to FFAK/NRD.. Its much harder to give an estimate, or if sharing those things will only be disappointing or annoying to hear about.. If you have ever been around me for more than 10 minutes, i am constantly talk about the “length left” on these projects a lot anyway. At night, i count them in my head. In the day, I write little lists as if I’ve forgotten the names of them.. They are MY LIST.

 But for those who do not know and wish to, NRD is likely going to end with 10 chapters. I have extended this in the past, so it could still change.. but it only really has gotten “longer” due to pacing of scenes rather than the actual content. And Honestly, it was paced out specifically to avoid this next chapter. Not that I didn’t want to draw it, its because i was Scared to do it.. Why? Because there’s cars I have to draw in it. And dogs. I have drawn those things before, at least once or twice. But I do not enjoy drawing cars or dogs. Dogs are okay now, but i hate that they have legs. Dont give me references, i have those. Its just how my brain is, with those fuckign legs and how there’s four of them. I know practice makes perfect. Or do-able. I have drawn amost 1000 pages of NRD, i dont remember how they bend and i’ve forgiven myself for knowing there’s just some things god cannot do, which is to give kosmic the ability to look at a dog leg and understand. Anyway. Because of this reason, somehow, finishing NRD with it only possibly being 4 more chapters, still feels harder than finishing ALL of FFAK - which (drumroll) might be .. only around 10 or 12 chapters left. Yes, you heard me- for the second AND third arc. 10 or 12 more. Will that also change? Probably!!!!!! Like, yes… its been 9 years and I’ve completed a lot more than just 10 chapters of comics in that time.. But wrapping up a story is way harder and I dont know what that’s like..yet! But i feel still confident that i will. I mean, i don’t really have any other choice than to experience it. I used to recoil and fall apart just emotionally contemplating finishing FFAK. my FUCKING baby. My joy. You mean that has to end?? NEVER. My attachment to it and the characters was incomparable to anything else I had done, and in my mind ever WILL make… (and that is still true.) But.. I’m okay with that now and I actually look forward to seeing how it could end up. Even if its bad! 

Its kind of weird to say, I just don’t really think it will be.. super good? Like.. it could be? I don’t know how readers will react. I dont even know how I feel about the whole thing.. I have felt so many feelings about this comic already, now I’m kind of.. Past it in a new stage. Zen like peace almost. There’s just.. so much that I wanted to PUT in FFAK and so much i could STILL put in. But I kind of just am okay with what i wrote, does that even make sense? The whole comic has felt like such a fluke to me, from the very start. And I managed to accidentally make so many great things in it I don’t actually understand sometimes. And my dreams for the comic has been nearly limitless. I couldn’t possibly contain all the feelings I’ve had over this story over the many years I have been making it, and all the incredible narrative outcomes I could see the characters going in.. the possibilities, the parallels.. The anime music videos..  I would NOT compare my writing style to GRRM, I haven’t read his books. but I can’t help but feel a bit like a weird baby version of him with the amount of cast members I have to push around and draw.. And I want to be clear. If FFAK was written as a book, it wouldn’t happen. I cannot write books. I do not think writing books is easier/faster than making comics, but sometimes it is hard to have to draw everyone. Point is, I understand the reality of a long-term comic project now, I have numbers and logs to prove it  and my range. And I’m fairly consistent, even in my low days. So.. in recent years my writing style has.. has changed to accommodate.. Those.. General Realities i’ve observed in myself. 

That’s why the second arc excites me. It has a lot of uhh, urgency that underlies it. You might have already noticed a change in the tone in chapter 16, which I’ve been working on for almost a year now. (I mean, I’ve been working on the written version for.. LOL.. much longer.) Maybe you haven’t! It could all just be from my own POV with how differently i feel that I delegate time to characters now. I did not start “writing” FFAK until chapter 10, and then i did not really start WRITING writing ffak until about.. Honestly, i want to say as late as 2019. It TOOK SO LONG you guys. I dont even know how many fucking thousands of pages of madness word documents I’ve got, with revision after revision and trying to list, contain, every possibly plotline… character backstory.. Blah blah blah.. Ive cut it down so much its impressive only to me. I don’t remember my lore anymore , and i love it. My readers probably know my lore better, and I don’t love it. Except when it benefits me. Then Its good. I would not describe myself as a RUTHLESS cut THROAT author, im actually too way sentimental to really let go of anyone. That’s why it took me so long to kill off Rock, but also because I wanted spoon to look really sexy and evil and that’s hard to do sometimes when I cant remember what half side he is. And when he was flipping around, I had to actually make a paper doll for him so i could TRY .. TRY to draw his arm on the correct side. Sometimes I didn’t. I just let it go if the drawing is good enough and i let it be a fun game for the readers to catch. But anyway, That’s why characters like Aeschylus are still around. Now that time has passed, I kind of regret it. Rome was right.. I dont need Aeschylus here and I’m mad he brought his friend Randall too. That being said, they’re some of my favorite characters in this arc even if they’re totally useless. In general, i have tried my best to not repeat all my writing sins and all my regrets of arc 1. I would not have been able to do this without the help of NRD to help get me to see that I can get attached and motivated to write new stories. When I hit my writing block in 2016/2017, it almost broke FFAK. FFAK still continued, but it also didn’t. But i was patient, and i worked through it.. And now I look forward to the ends of my comics, not because I want them to end but I’m very deeply excited for all the new opportunities my imagination to go to. I don’t know what that will be like. I don’t know how long it will still take me to get there, but I have it on [digital] paper and it does feel good to see that. Its affirming. I feel like i have a clear mission and I feel strong enough to really do it and commit to it. The second arc has barely started but in my heart I’ve made peace with the ending, whatever it might actually result as. 

Plus if I finish it and its so bad, I’m sure that will be inspiring in itself! People might actually write fanfics!! I think a lot of readers are NOT going to enjoy the ships, for one. The MEAN greedy part of me hopes they don’t. That’s the most ruthless part of my writing to me is the ship choices. Oh! My evil mind. I mean theres no possible way to please everyone, or even myself, but there is a possible way to displease a lot of people. Including myself. So that’s kind of the route I find myself drawn to. Why? Because it gets me out of the hole of like.. I dunno, being stuck. 

I used to write out a lot of big posts but over the years, I’ve kinda stopped. Mostly bc they were honestly really repetitive..or about lore that didn’t truly matter too much… That hasn’t really changed. This post is more or less “im still working on it, everyone! Just hang tight! Wow it’ll be a crazy wild ride” but it also is something I wanted to write to myself as words of encouragement. This has been a tough year. Like so tough that its hard to think about. But its very nice to feel like, i guess, my drive for my stories hasn’t gone anywhere. If anything, i really feel like i’ve gone through the mourning and ego death of “not being able to write a thing how you want” and now I’ve made total peace with it. Its just gonna be what it is, and I like that actually. When my life is tough, my comics at the moment serve as a place of hope for me - and assurance that I can survive through tough years. That’s the message they have ultimately given me, finished or not. And… I honestly don’t think of FFAK or NRD as my masterpieces or anything, but i know they might very well be the only stories people will know of when they think of me. If they think of me! So I wanna do a complete job with those. Rest assured, it’ll get there. I cant make big promises about all the comics I work on… even the bonus comics for FFAK, but at least those main two are my main priorities. That has not changed. THE FIRE is still in me. Even if FFAK took a like.. Mental.. 5 year hiatus its back baby. 

I’m about 30 pages in to my 50 page script for chapter 16, so I guess it’ll be around 300-400 pages more before its done. Things are picking up speed! So it could be less. I am also preparing for the monster that is the 7th nasty red dogs chapter. I cannot stress ENOUGH that this next chapter, I have put off since chapter 4. Yes, I’ve actually buffed the story out to be longer than it intended, just to avoid drawing it. I even put a horse guy in there, I never draw horses because those ALSO have legs but they’re worse than dog legs. And, its not that i didn’t want to draw this part of the comic! But I didn’t think i could do it. It intimidated me. It still does, but, I’m gonna do it already. I know chapters 8-10 will be hard too but like…eh… I know in my heart its gonna really be about 7 for me. It always has been about 7 to me.. 2024 will be a big year for my comics for sure, just because of that alone I think. Not only will I have chapter 16 done, as the first step of the 2nd arc and a new adventure of my apocalyptic wormy drama, I’ll be facing my fears of the dog variety. Its TIME. 

I’m so happy people have stuck around for my work, or shared it with others, even if they’re a strange mess. Its interesting to see, who comes and goes. I still enjoy refreshing my comments every morning when I wake up, and right before I go to bed. Its comforting.

My closing thoughts on this. I don’t HATE the ending of FFAK. I… like it! Its an ending. But I LOVE the ending to NRD. i think that ones legit good, i hope. With FFAK, part of me kinda hopes that turning up the pressure on myself of proceeding anyway will help the story. I don’t really know, or expect the ending to change though LOL…. Maybe i’ll come up with something better, but it will be too late so I cant do it or something, and then we can ALL write fanfics together of something else. Then sometimes I think about GUNNM and how the first ending was retconned but then last order was like? Basically the first ending again? I dont know actually, its hard to remember. THATS NOT GOING TO HAPPEN BTW. Also the ending is not everyone dies, even though that ending is fun and tempting. I didn’t do it, because end of evangelion already exists and its got a great song to go along with it too. YES it is also tempting to have someone go “WELL That was A FEAST.. For a KING” as the like final line, but I.. it wont wont. I prommy i take the ending seriously.

The reason I wanted to write all this, with webcomics, I think in general too people are so scared about writing their big comics that take 328523895235 years and the ending being bad. I see so many webcomics just, kinda die before the finale.. Which I totally understand, But I just.. Wanna show everyone that its much better and much more satisfying to just write the ending even if its a fucking disaster LOL. Because ultimately, its a webcomic. I don’t even know how to spell but people read mine! And so.. If theres anything I feel like i can promise and deliver to the world of the internet/my readers, is this big fucking disaster mess.. But it will end someday! And I’ll miss it. I hope readers will too, when that day comes (?) in probably another… 10 years…. idk.... BUT UNTIL THEN.. I hope you’ll enjoy the rest of chapter 16!!!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

-Kosmic Dream

#ffak #feast for a king #nasty red dogs #long post #webcomics

[berryhobii]

Hiii! I recently discovered your account and I'm so in love with you writings 😭. Can you do a namjoon x f!reader where namjoon gets really jealous and possessive so he picks a fight with her but then he regrets it when he saw her crying so he decided to remind her who she belongs to?!! Thanks in advance 💜

Thanks for your request! I actually kind of forgot what you specified so by the time I finished and read it again, I realize that you asked for reader to cry. I totally forgot. I’m sorry! I did include some tears of pleasure though. Hopefully that makes up for it. I also made Namjoon super toxic in this🫣still, I hope you enjoy!🩵🩵🩵

~

“You’re such an asshole! Why do you always do this?!” You slammed your purse down on your vanity, the furniture rocking under the force. You didn’t even care about your expensive makeup tumbling off it. That blush was $30!

“Why do you always insist on parading yourself around like you’re not in a relationship?”

Your head whipped around so fast that the tips of your braids smacked you in the face.

“You’re acting like I have For Rent sign hanging off my pussy, Namjoon!”

“You might as well!”

This wasn’t the first time you and your long term boyfriend had gotten into an argument like this. Specifically about this particular topic. It was honestly exhausting. Why did you even stick around?

Namjoon had been your on and off boyfriend for close to a decade. You two met in a little after high school. While he went off to college, you immediately started working, deciding that college wasn’t really for you. You worked a lot of odd jobs; mail carrier, retail worker, security guard and now you were a personal assistant at a company you actually really liked. It was good pay, good benefits, you even got your weekends free.

Working at a company meant company dinners. Normally, you’d decline. You’d tell your coworkers that you were tired or that you were spending time with your boyfriend and they’d take that excuse.

But the real reason you didn’t go was because your boyfriend was bat shit crazy.

Your hands waved around as you yelled back, “I’m not fucking anyone else, Namjoon! And I’m not trying to. Why the hell are you so paranoid?”

“How can I not be paranoid when my girlfriend is at a bar in a pair of jeans showing her ass?”

You ran a hand down your face, your laugh spiteful and exasperated. “I have a fat ass, Namjoon! What do you want me to do? Take it off and leave it on the dresser? Do I tell you to keep your dick at home?”

He was being completely unreasonable like always. You were a thicker girl. That would show regardless of what you wore. The fact that he almost blamed you for your body type and clothes as if they didn’t attract him in the first place was absolutely ridiculous. He could barely go 15 minutes without slapping it or telling you how sexy you were. It’s like he didn’t like you even existing outside of your apartment. Some irrational fear that you’re popping your coochie for other people. It was ridiculous.

He watched with rage filled eyes as you started walking around the room, removing your jewelry. He didn’t know why he was so upset. Just seeing you in that bar, laughing and with all those male coworkers around you.

It filled him with something more than jealousy.

Envy. Possessiveness.

You were his. No one else’s.

Honestly, seeing you so frustrated with him made his cock stir. The desire to force you back into submission was heavy on his shoulders and mind.

“Who was that guy you were talking to? I thought you didn’t date short guys.”

You were starting to get a headache. Tossing your earrings in the little dish on your vanity, you said, “his name’s Yoongi and I don’t want to date him. I’ve also never said I don’t date short guys. You’ve been my only boyfriend and it just so happens to be that you’re tall. Why are you putting words in my mouth?”

He could still remember how you laughed at whatever that guy said. Your hand pushing him because you had a tendency to hit people when you were laughing. Who the hell was this Yoongi guy to even be able to make you laugh? Namjoon should be the only one seeing you that joyous.

“It’s like you’re intentionally trying to piss me off. Do you get a kick out of making me angry?”

“If you’re pissed off at my body existing, that sounds like a you problem.” You went to your closet to start removing the bad jeans and your shirt.

“You should have known how I’d react.”

There it was. He was trying to flip it and blame you for his reaction.

Why did you even stay with him? He filled your days with unease. You weren’t the kind of person to let people control your actions. You were an adult. You’ve been handling yourself just fine. You knew deep down that you didn’t need him, the stress he brought.

But Namjoon was familiar. He was the only man you’ve been in a relationship with. He was all you knew. You couldn’t just let him go.

Liar. You could. You could pack up right now and leave him forever. Why haven’t you?

Pulling your night shirt over your head, you walked back out of the closet to see him sitting on the bed. He was manspread and staring at you with dark eyes. If you weren’t so peeved, you’d probably drop to your knees and give him a blowjob so good that it would knock him unconscious. “You know what, Namjoon? I’m so over you. When will you get it through your thick head that I’m not fucking anyone else and I don’t want to?!” You sighed. “In a minute, I won’t even want to fuck you anymore. Not while you’re acting like this.”

Just as you were about to turn around to walk to the bathroom, his hand wrapped around your wrist and yanked you down onto the bed. With a practiced quickness, he was hovering above you, his dragon like eyes staring holes into your face.

“You’re mine. Your pussy is mine. Don’t get mad at me because I don’t want you acting like you’re single.”

You tried to fight out of his hold but his huge body kept you down. Damn it, why did he have to start going to the gym? He was easier to overpower when he was still his lanky self. Now he’s beefed up and while you liked it, it really worked against you in these situations.

“How is me wearing jeans acting like I’m single? It’s not like I sucked anyone’s dick.”

His grin pissed you off even more.

“You probably wanted to. You always have been good at it.”

Fuck being on thin ice. He was in shark infested waters now.

You smirked back. “Yeah, it put your quick nutting ass to sleep everytime.”

His hand wrapped around your throat, not pressing hard enough to cut off your oxygen but enough so you could feel the pressure. You hated yourself for getting excited, pussy clenching. For all the times for your vagina to betray you, it had to be now?

“Take that back.”

“Make me. Bitch.”

His jaw clenched. “Oh. I’ll make you alright.”

That was all it took for him to lift off of you, stalking over to your bedside table. Squinting your eyes suspiciously, you tried to peek past his broad back. You only kept a few things in that drawer.

Shit.

The clink of those fuzzy blue handcuffs made both excitement and slight nervousness radiate down your body. You hardly used those since Namjoon didn’t have to do much to pin you. If he was getting them, that could only mean one thing.

“You son of a bitch!”

He had lifted the vibrator off your clit, once again denying you of your orgasm. That was number 8 and neither of you were backing down. Your brown skin was slick with sweat, as was your pussy in arousal. Your abused and overstimulated clit throbbed, begging for enough to push you over the edge but this asshole wasn’t having it.

While you were completely naked, he was still fully clothed. Something about that just got to you—the pure dominance in him still having clothes on was sexy as hell but you’d never tell him that. His own erection was painfully straining against his pants. He so badly wanted to just whip it out and fuck your gushing cunt until you were begging for him to stop. But that would be too easy. You didn’t deserve his cock nor any orgasms. Not until you said sorry.

“Apologize and I’ll let you cum.” His jaw tightened letting you know he was getting more and more irritated. Ha!

You glared at him, mentally wishing for him to burst into flames. Sadistic bastard. You’d never say it. It’s his fault for being paranoid. You weren’t about to apologize for his reaction. Your pride wouldn’t let you.

“N-never.”

He sighed before pressing the vibrator back against your clit. Your hips jerked up, hands pulling against your restraints as your orgasm rushed back to you.

This has been going on for almost an hour. Namjoon could see you were still holding strong and he hated it. He wanted you to break, wanted you to beg for his forgiveness, for you to go back to being his good girl. He didn’t understand why you couldn’t just be obedient.

Ah well. He liked putting you back in your place. He signed up for it when you two started dating anyway.

“Why do you have to be such a brat? Just say you’re sorry and we can move on.”

You were so close. So so close. Every nerve in your body was set alight with pleasure and absolute malice for your boyfriend. You were a brat? Why was he such a controlling piece of shit?

“Fuck you.” You gritted out.

He took the vibrator away again, your orgasm fading once more. You slumped back against the bed, chest heaving and stubbornness starting to fade.

Maybe you should just apologize. It’s not like you’d actually mean it. It would just stroke this sadistic motherfucker’s ego and make him feel like he has some power over you.

Turning off the vibrator, he tossed it to the side before moving to unbuckle his pants. The action itself was way sexier than it was. Was he finally about to fuck you? That would make you cum instantly.

No, he wouldn’t. He knew you came super easily from penetration. If you knew him like you think you did, you know he wasn’t giving up.

His hard cock sprung out of his pants. Your lust filled eyes locked on it. God, why did he have to be this way? You were already thirsty for him, you only wanted his cock. So why did he think you wanted to screw every man you came across?

He stroked his cock a few times, yet another action that shouldn’t be as sexy as it was.

Gripping the back of your thigh, he pushed it into your body, your other following out of instinct. He smirked at your movement and you wanted to kick him in his face.

Lining up with your hole, he began pushing inside. Your back arched at the wide intrusion, relief flooding you at finally having his cock stretch you.

But when you didn’t feel the rest of his cock inside, you lifted your head. It looked like he was struggling himself, breathing out a shaky breath at your tight walls. You were a brat but you had the best pussy he’s ever had.

“What the hell…..?”

He lifted his head to look at your desperate and confused face. Hook, line and sinker. You were too easy.

“You don’t deserve my whole cock. If you don’t want to apologize, I’m not gonna give it to you.”

“So you’re just gonna give me the tip?! You bastard!” You tried to kick your legs but he held them in place.

Best believe, he wanted nothing more than to bury his cock in your slick walls and pound you through the mattress but he had a lesson to teach. You couldn’t keep getting away with this behavior.

A few small thrusts and he already felt ready to bust.

You bucked your hips, trying to get him to sink deeper but he backed up to keep just the tip inside of you.

“You ass! What the hell is your problem?”

“Apologize. Last chance.”

Your blood boiled in your veins. You wanted to cum so badly but you refused to say you were sorry. You’ve had enough of this ass pushing you around.

But……………

His head hung low as he thrusted a few more times, one stroke going just a little bit deeper and brushing past your sweet spot.

Fuck this!

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry okay?”

That grin was back. Easy work.

He adjusted himself before ramming his entire cock into your walls. His fingers dug into your thighs hard enough to bruise.

“See? That wasn’t so hard now was it?”

You didn’t even have the nerve to retort. All you could focus on was the feeling of his cock. Your orgasm was right there once again and you were confident you’d finally reach it.

A sudden pain to your breast caused your back to arch. You lifted your head just as it happened again.

Namjoon twisted your nipple between his fingers, the sharp pain only adding to the thick haze of pleasure.

“See how good it feels when you just do what I say? Say you’re sorry again.”

He twisted your nipple again, your mouth opening to scream out an, “Sorry! I’m so sorry!!”

“Good girl.”

Picking up the vibrator again, he clicked it to its highest setting before pressing it back on your clit, his hips still delivering deep strokes to your fluttering walls.

Your throat ached from the Bloody Mary scream you let out. Tears pricked at your waterline, your chest feeling tight as the most powerful orgasm you’ve ever had slammed into you.

Your legs kicked sporadically, hips bucking as you humped against the toy. Black dots danced in front of your vision as you rode out the almost endless orgasm. The first one didn’t even have a chance to come down before you were floating into the next one.

Namjoon cursed as you squeezed him impossibly tight, little droplets of liquid hitting his pelvis.

The hand that wasn’t holding the toy went to wrap around your throat, shaking you a little and forcing you to focus on him.

“Whose pussy is this?” He needed to hear you say it.

Your mouth dropped open but no words came out. Tears streaked down your face, your mascara getting all messed up.

You were perfection to him. His perfect little toy.

His fingers pushed down over your pulse point before he asked you again, “I asked you a question.” He growled. The headboard was crashing into the wall, leaving an indent you’d complain about tomorrow but he didn’t care. He’d just fuck that out of you too.

“Yours! It’s yours! I’m sorry!” You slurred, yet another orgasm coursing through you, your toes curling hard enough to crack. You didn’t even think you were still in your body. Your mind was somewhere else. That let you know that he had effectively fucked you dumb.

“That’s right. It’s mine. Don’t you forget it. Now thank me for my cock.” He pressed the toy harder on your clit, thrusts speeding up. If not for the handcuffs and his hold on your throat, you would have been slammed through the wall.

“T-thank you, thank you, thank you! Fuhhhhhhhhh—uuuuccckkkk….”

With one last vice like squeeze of your walls, Namjoon pulled out of you, releasing your neck to pump his cock over your stomach. Hot splashes of his release painted your brown skin, your eyes falling shut at the sensation.

Your legs fell from their folded position, your body squirming away from the vibrator. Namjoon clicked it off before dropping it to the ground with a loud thud.

Both of your chests heaved from exertion, your body still twitching in the aftershocks. You felt ready to pass out.

Namjoon stared down at you—your belly covered in his cum and your skin already darkening just a little from his grip on you.

You couldn’t see his smirk but it was there.

You were his. And it would stay that way.

#bts #bts smut #bts x black reader #namjoon smut #askberryhobii

[wayward-dreamer]

Hi! I was wondering if you could write an angst fic taking place in the late 60s where Ben (Soldier Boy) is in an arranged marriage with the reader, but the reader does love him? Also, they’re much younger than he is (obviously an adult though, just a young one). This is oddly specific ig but I have an OC based around this concept 😭❤️

Two Ways To Love Him

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Female!Reader

Word count: 1,709

Summary: There were certain things about the supe she didn't want to accept, they were surprisingly two things love about him.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, implied smut (not with reader), implied drug use

A/N: I wrote this a while ago and just forgot to post it, but hopefully it's what you were hoping for! Also I was intending for this to be a drabble, but here we are at 1700 words lol This is unbetad, so I'm sorry for any errors I've missed.

It was easy to love his exterior personality, the parts of himself that he showed to the public. The parts of himself that Vought manufactured. The charm, the wit, the subtle cockiness, the smirk, the heroic sacrifices he had made over the decades in each war that occurred, the roughness of his voice laced with the rasp of cigarettes and bourbon. It was easy to love him from afar for many years, knowing that was all it would be. Just a silly admiration for an American hero, the world’s greatest supe. What she felt was real but fleeting, something she knew she’d get over whenever she decided that it was immature and she needed a reality check.

A reality check that came in the form of Vought calling her into the executive offices. It was  in the form of them needing her for something that she wasn’t ready for, especially with someone she didn’t know. She knew his public life, yes, but she had no idea what he was like in the privacy of his penthouse apartment at the top floor of the building.

“There’s no way I’m fucking doing this,” he argued, taking out his third cigarette in the span of fifteen minutes they had both been in the CEO’s office.

“You don’t have a choice, Ben,” Alan from talent relations countered. “In light of all the papers reporting your… alleged ties with the mafia, we need to present you as the wholesome, all American hero that you’ve always been.”

“By marrying me off to some bird I don’t even fucking know?!” Soldier Boy pointed towards her, his eyes never even meeting hers. “Not to mention she looks like one of the Brady fucking Bunch kids.”

“I’m 25,” she finally added, her voice meek as her legs shook under her boring brown skirt.

“Yeah, that’s a lot better,” he scoffed, placing the cigarette between his lips and lighting it. He took a long drag as he dropped down in the leather chair across from the table, leaning his head back as he closed his eyes. “Fuckkkk.”

“There’s an image we need to protect here,” the CEO, Paul Roberts explained, leaning forward on the table as he clasped his hands together. “Vought can’t have its number one supe acting out and causing more trouble than he was initially trying to prevent. This arrangement is going to show a level of maturity to your supporters. Think of the popularity points and keep your attitude in check.”

Soldier Boy glared at him, shifting forward and putting the cigarette out in the ashtray. “Fuck you, Paul.”

He stood up from the chair, adjusted the tactical vest over his suit and turned towards the exit, sending those same daggers towards her before he slammed the door shut. She gulped as she turned to the two men in the room, nervously twisting her fingers.

“You’ll be compensated fairly,” Alan informed her, handing her a pen as he pushed the contract across to her.

“What about-” she started as she gestured to the door that Soldier Boy just walked through.

“You let us handle him,” Mr. Roberts added, his tone having a sickening finality to it.

They didn’t leave much room for choice, and she knew better than to argue with a fast-growing corporation like them. With a flurry of the pen, she signed her life away to Vought and to being Soldier Boy’s wife.

There was barely a ceremony, and no exchanging of rings. They gave their forced “I do’s” to a minister hired by the company in one of the offices, standing side by side and never once looking at each other. Vought had people remove her belongings from her parent’s house, her childhood home and move it into the spare room in Soldier Boy’s apartment. A knock on the door alerted her to the envelope left outside, her wedding ring inside that she slipped onto her finger herself. This was never something she thought would happen so abruptly. She always imagined herself falling for a wonderful man, both of them declaring their love for each other before they promised to spend the rest of their lives together.

Being married to Soldier Boy wasn’t what she had pictured for herself.

Being the wife of Vought’s most valuable asset was nothing like having a crush on him. She spent most of her days alone, either crying her eyes out, muffled by the down pillows on the large bed she slept in by herself, or staring out the large, floor to ceiling windows and wondering what the tiny people down on the ground were doing with their lives. She was only ever in close proximity to him when the media outlets wanted to speak with them, now that Vought had officially announced the nuptials of the great Soldier Boy and his childhood sweetheart, as the story cooked up by PR suggested. They fake smiled and “aww, honey”’d their way through every interview, their looks barely lingering on each other for more than a few seconds. They went their separate ways after each one, resuming the routine they had found themselves in.

She kept quiet as she watched him go off to meeting after meeting, commercial after commercial, and party after party, every single day and night. She never said a word as he came in, late at night and blinding drunk, a loud guffaw waking her up as she heard the hysterical giggles of the women he was sneaking into his room. She kept her mouth shut as she watched him consume every pill, snort every kind of powder and drink everything in sight. She ignored him as he did what he was used to doing, showing no interest in that life. She never wanted it and she was even more certain of it now that she had witnessed him in all his glory.

She had seen behind the curtain, she knew what he was really like now, and it wasn’t easy to love him without the guise of his public persona.

In fact, it was incredibly difficult to love him for who he actually was.

Until one day… it wasn’t.

It started with a simple gesture. She had come back from spending her day shopping with the money that Vought was giving her in checks, completely caught off guard by him being there, pouring himself a drink. Their eyes met for what could possibly be the first time in weeks, but exchanged no words. He slid the tumbler across to her, pouring another for himself before he walked away and closed the door to his room. That was the most time they had spent in each other’s vicinity within the apartment, but she appreciated that he actually acknowledged her presence, even if it was for just a mere moment.

She quickly noticed the other little things he started doing, things that he probably hoped she wouldn’t realize was him, but she did.

He would leave for the day just before she would wake, and always had a bagel and coffee waiting for her when she reached the dining table. He usually arrived back at the apartment in the wee hours of the morning, and on more than one occasion she had fallen asleep on the couch. She remained still, making no sudden movements as he covered her with the blanket that was draped over the back of the sofa. After the first time, she had to make sure it wasn’t just a part of her dreams, and sure enough it happened again another two times. She tried not to read too much into the night he picked her up and carried her into her bedroom, or the next night when it happened once more but his large hand delicately tucked a lock of hair behind her ear as she continued to feign sleep, before he promptly left the room.

All of it was a side to him that she never expected once she saw who he really was, and she knew not to take it for granted despite the twinge of longing in her heart that it would be an everyday occurrence that could be acknowledged between them. A stepping stone into a better relationship with him.

But he didn’t want that, and he proved it as he continued his usual activities as if those nice things were just fleeting, so few and far between that it began to feel like a part of the PR stunt. Even if it was behind closed doors.

And yet, she hung onto those moments. They may have been rare, but they were a part of him that she had begun to yearn for, another part of him that she had begun to love. A part of him that she wished he would just fully embrace rather than hide it away as if he was ashamed and disappointed in myself for doing it.

She knew she couldn’t change him. He was too embedded in Vought’s infrastructure to ever be a different person, and his only outlet to escape their grasp was to do all of the things she was forced to pretend didn’t happen.

So she resigned herself to the fact that there were only two ways to love him. Only two aspects of him to love.

One was his public life, the persona he put on for the people that adored him. That sexy smirk, the ability to melt hearts with just a wink and his heroic efforts in the wars - WWII, Korea and Vietnam - that all followed his initiation into Vought. The public didn’t need to know that was all for the photo opportunities.

The other was all of the little things he did for her, things that he didn’t know she had noticed. They were little gestures, not nearly enough under normal circumstances for someone to fall in love with, but she needed those in order to survive this situation she had found herself in. The money promised to her would never be enough to make it through that.

Those were the only two ways to love him, she told herself. Reminded herself every day of the fact.

And everything else, everything she had chosen to ignore… well, those were all things she would learn to live with.

Join my taglist(s)! If you’re crossed out I couldn’t tag you :(

Forevers: @hintsofhoney // @makeadealwithdean // @writercole // @flamencodiva // @440mxs-wife // @sexyvixen7 // @foxyjwls007 // @maliburenee // @waynes-multiverse // @weepingwillowphoenix // @kyjey // @leigh70 // @savagemickey03 // @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone // @agentorange9595 // @buckybarnes-1917 // @lunarmoon8 // @stoneyggirl2 // @hobby27 // @sweetcyanidemilkshake // @envyaurora95 // @jassackles // @ircngirl //

The Boys: @lacilou // @kazsrm67 // @smellingofpoetry // @krazykelly // @nancymcl // @quincessimus //

Soldier Boy: @emoryhemsworth // @spnwoman // @akshi8278 // @katelyn--renee // @candy-coated-misery0731 // @deans-spinster-witch // @deans-baby-momma // @mariaenchanted // @globetrotter28 // @pink-sparkly-witch // @lyarr24 // @stephv213 // @perpetualabsurdity //  @lessons-of-red // @redbarn1995 // @xlynnbbyx // @recoveringpastaaddict // @maggiegirl17 // @rebeccathefangirl // @ladysparkles78 // @sl33pylilbunny // @smolone88 // @chernayawidow // @deansbbyx // @ultimatecin73 // @solariklees // @curlycarley // @losa12308 // 

#Soldier Boy x Female!Reader #Soldier Boy x Female!Reader One Shot #Soldier Boy Angst #Soldier Boy One Shot #Soldier Boy Fanfiction #Soldier Boy #The Boys Fanfiction #the boys tv

[hatredmadeofgold]

Unfortunately not a new chapter but a current status update (same text as in the link):

Sorry, this isn’t Chapter 7 yet, but a status update and I will NOT abandon this don’t worry

Hey hello, Pulsar here. No worries, this fic not going on hiatus, I just felt bad that there’s radio silence and no new chapter update yet. Also, I had no idea how to reach many of my readers in any other way because my username until a few weeks ago didn’t match my handle anywhere else, but I’ll be linking to my social media at the end of this message.

I can assure you though, I will never abandon this project. My therapist pointed out to me that writing this helps me a lot with my own mental health and recovery, so basically, I must write this as if my life depends on it. /hj And honestly, I noticed that as well after he pointed it out, and recovery is my number one priority in life anyway, so. Hope that’s reassuring enough for you guys that this fic will be finished in full, including all the additional stories, even if it takes 5 years or longer than that. I am one of those people who stick to the same main interest/fandom for a decade.

Anyway, let’s get to the actual status update:

I absolutely underestimated how much work it takes to finish the script, originally I wanted to continue writing when the script for Arc 1 is finished but hahaha that’s unfortunately not how that’s going to work out and I hate having to make people wait for ages (I am not that patient myself), but I wanted to be transparent about the current writing process 😊

Chapter 7 will come out still this month (June 2023), and I am very sure that I can guarantee that. But I recently discovered that I misinterpreted some aspects of MGR itself while watching the Japanese dub out of curiosity, and I am not satisfied anymore with the 2nd version of my script as I already said when I published Chapter 6, which the first 4 chapters were based on. Hence, I will have to edit (almost) all of them, but thankfully it’s really minor changes and additions as well as some formatting, and none of these changes affects the story so far. But if you want to, you can read them again from the beginning once Chapter 7 goes online. I will delete this announcement then and move some of the info here to the author comment section at the end of Chapter 7. With the addition of the prequel I Come With Knives, Sam got an entire backstory now that did not exist in the 2nd version of the script and it affects the story very positively. It makes it a lot more complex, a lot more consistent and a lot more enjoyable for me to write and (hopefully) also a lot more enjoyable for you guys to read. The downside is, that with the 3rd version of the script, all the additional stories also came and the ‘lore’ of Sing to Me became very fucking massive – I am not joking when I say this is nearly as complex as the Solid series – and that makes the development of the script a little more ‘difficult’. I am not a perfectionist, but my brain is only satisfied when things make sense. I have 29 script files at this point and they will become even more (but at least it’s very organised). Not that I cannot handle it, but at this point I have a small development team who help me with research and discussing ideas, giving me feedback etc. I am just a tiny bit insane about this project but in the best way possible (One of my mutuals even joked that I am a fusion of Hideo Kojima and Rohan Kishibe when it comes to being an author lmao). Honestly, another reason I decided to rework my script is also the fact that it focused too much on Raiden and too little on Sam in the first and second versions. And I think there’s enough focus on Raiden already everywhere else (not that that’s a bad thing), but Sam deserves as much attention as Raiden does – and during the 3rd script development I was sometimes scared that it would now be imbalanced in the other direction, where the focus lies too much on Sam lol. But thankfully that didn’t happen, it’s pretty 50-50. Also, I am sure that even 75 chapters won’t come close to how long this fic will be, like, at this point I believe 100-125 chapters is more realistic but who the fuck knows. I know this is insane. I am enjoying every bit of it <3

Long story short, the two paragraphs above explain why I couldn’t get back to my insane writing speed from January in which I legit wrote 5 chapters in a single month yet. But hopefully, I might get that speed back as soon as I finished the preparations that need to be done for me to continue. However, I’ll also go back to vocational school sometime around August and I’ll have to see how I manage my studies and writing together. Also, dragonfly1212 asked me a while ago that due to the amount of research that I am doing for this story if I would share it eventually, and he’s got a point. My plan is to probably make a tumblr side blog where I will share all the lore over time, as well as reference sheets, character information, inspiration, etc. Drawings I commissioned as well as ‘fanart’, playlists, and fic updates. With the amount of detail and complexity this fic project has, a ‘wiki’ certainly would help I guess lol. Since it’s unrealistic for me to finish the entire Arc 1 script as fast as I’d like to, I will do this in smaller steps instead. As for now, I have nearly finished the fine-tuned scripts for Chapter 7 until Chapter 13, which will finalise the first smaller arc of Arc 1 :D Chapter 13 is probably going to be my next favourite one to write after Chapters 5 and 6, but the fine-tuned script for it is already 8 pages long and it doesn’t make sense to split it up because it would kill the tension if I were to do that. I hope that it will NOT be extremely long, but I am afraid I will have to ‘assault’ you guys with a chapter that’s going to be over 10k words long. Oh well, please don’t hate me. With Chapter 13 this fic will also officially move its rating from Mature to Explicit. If you’re somebody who does not like to read sexually explicit scenes though, I already decided that chapters with such scenes, first of all, will not solely consist of that alone, and secondly, I will also give a marking/note in the top author comment above such chapters where it starts and where it ends, so you can CTRL/Cmd + F and skip over those. I am not sure yet how, but I might use symbols for that as well, so it’s easier to skip, especially for those of you who prefer to read on mobile devices (I am one of those people myself). Also, it’s unlikely that there will be a lot of such scenes in this story anyway, at least in proportion to the length. I care a little bit more about the plot and the drama hahaha.

Community Discord Y/N? Additionally, I’ve been asked now by 3 different people if there’s a discord server about this fic. I didn’t think people would be so curious or interested in my creative work that people would ask if there’s a server lmao but honestly? If there’s enough interest, then I might make one – and please give me feedback if you’d be interested in joining such a community. In the case I might make a discord server though, it would not be exclusively about Samuraiden, Metal Gear or any ship or fandom in particular, and not just Sing to Me, although the main focus would still be on this project. I thought, if anything, it would be a small creative exchange between artists and authors or just people who enjoy reading this story and want to talk to me about it or others as well. This server then would also have an additional corner for you to share your own creative work, be that art, writing, or any other form of artistic expression, and it doesn’t have to be fandom-specific or fanwork at all, it can be original as well. I thought that I may also use such a server to help and support other authors and artists, and maybe give feedback on other people’s stuff when I have the time and energy to do so. Additionally, I could use that server to give updates on the progress of the fic overall, which is a lot better than inappropriately using AO3 like I am doing it right now. This will be the only time I will make an announcement like this anyway.

I’ve otherwise made such announcements already on my social media accounts before, but I haven’t had them linked in my AO3 profile until recently either. You can find me here: Twitter: R3DR4G3dotEXE tumblr: R3DR4G3 Instagram: R3DR4G3.exe Carrd: R3DR4G3 Discord ID: R3DR4G3#3952 (Yes, if you read my fic of course you can add me, I’d love to chat!) Anyway! Thanks for reading, I am sorry that this isn’t Chapter 7 yet and I hope to see you guys soon! ;^;

#sing to me #mgr #mgrr #metal gear rising #metal gear rising revengeance #samuraiden #jetstream sam #raiden mgr #raiden mgs #raiden #samuel rodrigues #samrai #redrage writing #my thoughts #my writing #golden writing #golden thoughts

[sweetsoundsofignorance]

For the writing asks! 4, 17, 24 and 26 🖤

i'm going to limit most answers to fic.

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?

It’s a word you often use, scuttle, but not feral in a bad way. Somehow the word evokes something predatory in me, like the need to pounce.

Also, apoplectic.

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

I guess I’ll talk about the one I’m currently posting? Only good things happen here started as a joke between you and me while we were slogging our way through the drivel that was season five of Riverdale.

Betty seemed very (sexually) repressed and always looked like she was itching to do violence, but the writers NEVER LET HER. They put a chainsaw in her hands, and then blue-balled us. Only good things happen here begins during the key party (they couldn’t have made it more boring, I agree), so at the time, Betty was only in a friend with benefits type situation with Archie (if I remember correctly?), but she still seemed pent-up, and she clearly hadn’t processed (good luck doing that with Archie) what happened with TBK (trash-bag-killer… god, grant me the serenity…). From where I was sitting, Betty seemed on the threshold of a psychotic break for the entirety of season five, so B was due.

And Jughead was such a sad and pathetic little meow meow who is also probably going through a dry spell (which I’ve seen is one current running theory in fandom, lol). I theorize that may be because he idealizes his relationship with Tabitha and/or he has severe sexual hang-ups from his toxic and hateful relationship with Jessica as well as his breakup with Betty, where she cheated on him with his best friend. I mean, that entire hallucinogen in the bunker suggested he is dealing with some larger issues sexually, in my opinion, especially since in his fantasy, it was high school Betty (still weird) and they talked about forgiveness. Also, he’s an alcoholic, and we all know how that can affect one’s sex drive, and he’s dealing with writer’s block, which is a blow to his ego. Idk, Jughead appeared to have lost his entire sense of self-agency in season five.

Anyway, clearly it seemed like these two were headed toward an explosion (I realize the irony of that now; in this story, it is not a literal explosion...)

Riverdale likes to pussy-foot around its darkness, and I’m predisposed to just pushing characters off the deep-end, so this story is one possible trajectory for season five that you were kind (crazy 🖤) enough to encourage me to write. I know it is a fucked-up way for both Betty and Jughead to process their trauma, sure, but I felt placing Jughead in a pit, and Betty by proxy, would create this sense of inescapable claustrophobia where they would have to confront and reconcile with the worst parts of themselves. There will be a ton of self-reflection, a lot of nastiness and resentment and trading barbs between the two, which will end with an explosion but also (hopefully) some cathartic self-actualization. This all feels very serious, but it is also supposed to be darkly humorous because it’s sassy little bitch Jughead up against a sadistic and psychotic Betty.

Crap, did I give it all away? I mean, I hope it was obvious based on the premise and the first chapter?

24. How much prep work do you put into your stories? What does that look like for you? Do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?

If you mean research, shit all. I often forgo prep work because most of my stories don’t require it. If it’s a period piece, I rarely go back farther than the 80s, so it’s pretty easy to pull enough period-perfect details because I’m more comfortable with those decades, especially pop-culture wise.

The only story that's required a lot of footwork is the cult fic, and that’s why it’s taking soooooo long because it necessitates more research, but it’s important to me that I get it right, the psychology, the methods of indoctrination, the process of deprogramming. This looks like a lot of reading (memoirs, fiction, philosophy, nonfiction) and documentaries. I’m dipping into books on the occult and pagan Christianity to develop the cult’s mythologies. I enjoy it because who doesn’t love learning new things, but I also just really want to get on with it orz.

26. How do you get into your character’s head? How do you get out? Do you ever regret going in there in the first place?

I don’t know? I just sit with it. Music helps a lot. I’ll start with an action, whatever plot point, usually initiated by an antagonist, and then I imagine what emotion that might invoke in whatever character, the potential succession of emotions and predict the reactions and downstream consequences and how it snowballs from there. I never write it down, though, which I think counts as a demerit in my organization column, but it sort of looks like a flowchart in my head. I stew with the character in question, whatever traits I’ve given them, usually piecemeal aspects from canon, whichever ones I’ve chosen to amplify, and that helps dictate the flow of emotions and reactions, hence flowchart.

I struggle to get out. It’s why my stories often get away from me. You know how tumbleweeds eventually end up joining with other tumbleweeds and creating this gigantic tumbleweed that then piles up against an obstacle? But the tumbleweeds don’t stop, and they just keep piling on top of each other. You’ll see heaps of them accumulated against fences in empty lots. Idk, that’s the mental image I get, just a pile of tumbleweeds, and those fuckers are thorny, so sometimes there is much regret, me climbing over tumbleweeds to scale the obstacle, which is of course the exit out of the story.

I’ve explored some very dark topics in the devil’s daughter, delved into some psychologies that are immensely painful. It’s why sometimes I have to step away from it, if it starts infecting my day-to-day. It’s also why I struggle to respond to comments, especially right now, because just thinking about the ending makes me start ugly sobbing.

Thank you for asking 🖤🖤🖤 (remember tit for tat 😈)

#asks

[black-klok-youth-pastor]

Okay maybe this is just because I’m having generally terrible anxiety right now but if my semi-viral previous post was bad ,then the current situation with Max and Cartoon Network right now is grim. Like if not even the upcoming Batman cartoon could get screwed over (although granted not cancelled) we might be fucked. Granted the [adult swim] trilogy was announced fairly early on in the Discovery merger so it’s more or less a done deal but even that is not a guarantee that something could happen, especially with Zaslav in charge. God also imagine the irony that Metalocalypse came about partially due to Brendon being fed up with how reality TV was taking away writing jobs only for Discovery to pull the plug on the movie that we’ve all waited a literal decade for.

*sigh* I hate to be sound like one of those “buying stuff is activism” types especially since by all accounts it’s make more sense to boycott WBD products, but I have a plan that’s a long shot but could work even in our limited capacities. In that to the surprise of nobody Aqua Teen Forever Plantasm was the first to be finished (scheduled for November 2022) and is currently available for pre-order. So I recommend pre-ordering the movie to at least show that there is demand for it to hopefully sway them into cancelling the other two projects. Hell most retailers such as Amazon don’t really charge you until the product is shipped out, not that it costs that much anyway. This isn’t a 100% guarantee frankly, especially considering how it’s practically going out of its way to self-sabotage ,but I figured there should be some way to convince WBD that the fans are not gonna take this lying down lest we cut them with a linoleum knife (for legal reasons that last part was a joke).

#I could be wrong though it’s just I’m running out of ideas #adult swim #cartoon network #aqua teen hunger force #aqua teen forever: plantasm #the venture bros #metapocalypse #dethklok #hbo max #Dethklok song recommendation of the day: Crush The Industry

[josiebelladonna]

this is absurdly long and i ramble so much here, like i’m really not sure how this happened, but if you read this to the very end and can really follow my train of thought here, thank you. this should explain the whole “#goingthroughit” thing from earlier. hopefully. i don’t know.

okay. 

i want everyone to understand this: i can take ugly layouts. i put up with wattpad’s hideous white and orange eyesore of a layout for two years: i can put up with something that’s more “immersive” if that’s what they were going for. what i can’t put up with is the inability to post, either a straight post or on my story - the latter kills me because i like to post wips and other things there, and it also gives my account a bit more clout. i couldn’t even roll it over to find the post button: if i did roll it over, i got over into messages - and i couldn’t even reply to messages, either. it was like someone broke the zoom mechanism on it and they were refusing to let any of us fix it.

so, while we all have that in common with the kardashians, it’s still out of the ballpark with me. if instagram wanted to make it more immersive and keep it on the dark mode, fine (if anything, i thank them for the dark mode: white backgrounds are too harsh on my eyes). but don’t take away an artist’s desire to post and communicate with her followers. and it took me deleting the app and posting on desktop for the floodgates to open again.

if there was anything that i could take away from the new layout, it was that it literally does not matter what your career is anymore: you could lose it all at the slip of a hand by forces beyond your control, and there’s literally nothing you can do about it. but artists take it the worst because what the hell do we know? we’re just the artist. we’re disposable.

i feel left behind now. left behind and left out. i see alex posting on stories and i wonder if he actually misses my messages to him or if it was fucking stupid of me to do all of that because the way i love another person is absolute horse shit, and i was nothing more than a nuisance to him (i write about his smiles to me and how his voice softened to a near whisper, but the thing is those things can mean anything: a guy smiling at you can also mean that he’s scared shitless of you). i see artists posting on there through reels and i feel like i’m living in a david lynch film. it’s almost like you have to post reels and videos now otherwise you’re paying a steep price.

none of this is good for someone recovering from anorexia and anxiety, either. i’m surrounded by messages and signs that tell me that i am. to be an artist is to be worthless and i have no meaning to my existence, even if it seems like i do have it with my art and writing and whatnot. because...

hell. if. i. know.

okay, really, where the hell did we go wrong? i’m really asking, too: what happened? did i miss something here? why is it that the worst thing you can do to yourself is to be an artist? i mean, artists have been the subject of ridicule for decades (just ask google: really, go to google right now and type in the words “why are artists” and look at the menu. it’s outrageous.) but artists were always in the right, though. we were protected by thieves and people didn’t hesitate to call out plagiarism. it wasn’t long ago that we looked at the whole “not like other girls” nonsense as just that, nonsense. now you’re telling me that if you steal from someone and be like “ooh, i’m not like other girls, i have a raunchy side”, you’re royalty and the artist is full of it?

it really does make me wonder why i even bother, when i’m either going to be a victim of theft (and then blamed for it) or of circumstance (and then blamed for it).

i can’t help but blame myself, though. i know i’m only a microscopic speck in the whole tapestry of the art world but it’s hard to look at the big picture and wonder what it is about you that’s so wrong because you’re the weird one out. you’re the one cog that isn’t functioning right, and it’s only a matter of time before the machine spits you out.

i see this shit all the time, “but you are powerful, though! you’re powerful just by existing!” then what the hell am i looking at? i don’t powerful at all, and i especially don’t feel powerful when i’m brushed away and i receive “oh, yeah, i know” when i point out the problems that artists have to deal with; hell, anything i have to bone to pick with. 

“yeah, we know how it is.” why aren’t you doing something then? why is no one doing anything? what gives me the right to “feel powerful” when i see no reason to be?

i don’t think i’ve ever felt that way because i’ve never been given a reason to be. why should i be myself when all it has ever done for me is isolate me and leave me feeling like damaged goods. there is no point to my existence, none whatsoever. i don’t matter.

there are four things about myself that i really hate more than anything: my impulsiveness, my impatience, the fact i can get carried away with something if i really like it that much, and also the fact i can be ill-tempered. these four things are qualities that i look at and i want to throw them in the trash, especially since they tie into things like the way i love and my sexuality. i hate the way i love and i wish i could tear my sexuality out of my body because it has brought me nothing of joy. “imagine life without your sexuality: things would be grim and gray.” things are already grim and dour with the utter prison that is my sexuality so what’s your point?

i wish i wasn’t impulsive, impatient, full of energy, and with a short fuse... because my own father wished i wasn’t like that.

looking through my memory bank, i realize that my dad often shamed me about as much as anyone in my past: it hurt when it came from him especially the expectation is for a girl to be close to her father. combing through my memories and seeing him lounged on the foldout bed of the trailer with his eyes closed (but not asleep) and breathing heavy, and i would ask him to play with me, and he would turn me down because he was too tired or not feeling well - my dad wasn’t that old, either: he was only 40 when i started kindergarten. and yet my memory of him ranges from intense lethargy to hotheaded: he got almost terrifying when he was high. not necessarily abusive, but i remember his eyes would be all big and he was all twitchy and shit, just really uncomfortable to be around.

it’s hard to not see this as my fault, because when you’re a kid, you see everything in black and white. when someone tells you to stop doing something, whether it’s to be patient or to stop being so rambunctious, and it’s worded in a way that isn’t to help you learn from this behavior, you think you fucked up. when you find out that person was high on amphetamines, it brings on the questions, namely “how much truth was there to it?” but also “how do i know they were telling the truth?” and “were they doing it because of me?”

it really does make me wonder if i genuinely am that alone because my brother was a moody-ass teenager who just wanted to get out, my mother worked long hours, and my father was often high as a kite. if i ever spoke my mind to my dad’s family, he took their side rather than bolster me - and he still does. he never took me out on like little dates or treated me like a woman, even: he didn’t even want me to grow up (he still doesn’t, either)

i bring all of this up because it really is the root of my problems. aside from everything else that’s happened to me in life, it’s this. my dad is the reason i have no confidence and why i hate myself and i have no power. when i see emphasis on the opposite of those things, and even more so from him, i can’t help but feel confused by it. clashing with people my age is definitely a huge part of the problem as well: yesterday, i remembered an incident from my sophomore year of high school when one of the boys i rode the bus with was eating some homemade salt and vinegar chips and they smelled like day-old seafood... and the smell rubbed off onto me big time. it’s amazing how you go from “hot” to “not” overnight, especially in a small-town high school (it’s even more amazing when i tell you that i love salt and vinegar chips, too). but the problem started at home, without question.

my dad is the reason why i struggle so much, even in doing something to salvage my art. one of the reasons why i don’t have a tip jar or a patreon (besides no one reacting to my desire to do such a thing) is because he actively discouraged against that when i was first starting out with my art career. telling me to market myself better, to stop doing what i’m doing and find a “real” job, and when i expressed my desire to launch a patreon back in late 2019, he shrugged. alex skolnick is a bigger fan of me than he is and i often wonder if i’m worthy of him and if i deserve my dad’s bullshit instead: totally ironic once i tell you that one time i was talking to my dad on the phone and he straight-up told me he’s my biggest fan.

moreover, instagram was the one place i could post where i could actually have a reach of some kind, because tumblr is a complete lost cause with it now, i really am trying to understand twitter’s deal now, and he’s over on facebook and he’s the only one who gives me a “sympathy like” while the algorithm just forgets me and the only way i get into people’s minds is commenting on something stupid they posted (i honestly wonder why i even bother with facebook anymore: i even think of zuckerberg’s name and my skin crawls). in fact, that’s a big fear of mine if and when i get the instagram app back is i’ve been offline too long and so the algorithm is going to shut me out - besides it pulling that “broken zoom” bullshit again. honestly, if it does that again, you can consider me finished, especially when you consider how a site like twitter likes to play favorites and so you’ve got your work cut out for you. i can’t live like that, and no artist should put up with it, either: all it’ll tell me is no one gives a shit about artists.

my dad is the reason why i hate my sexuality so much: the first man you interact with should give you an idea as to how to deal with men. i was in love with the first man i interacted with and he cared more about the drugs than he did me. every guy i’ve ever had a crush on pushed me away in some fashion, whether it was disinterest or already having a girl by their side: i had a crush on a music guy not that long ago and he gave me a big fat reason to not feel that way in the form of a family which he’d been keeping clandestine this whole time.

and i love a man right now and i’m not comfortable with myself while i’m doing it. thinking about his husky voice and his deep eyes and his soft face... it feels so right and i want to touch him, and yet i’m so tense and i feel so gross because for all i know, he could be hiding something. the first man i ever interacted with smoked from a pipe when i wasn’t looking and yelled at me when i worried about something (really, just discounted my feelings altogether), and he probably did it because of me as far as i know: how do i know there isn’t something lurking in the wings and he’s getting ready to tell me off because i’m annoying him?

i could stay away from instagram for the rest of the year if i could just to really see if i am missed at all (i won’t: if this short time away has done anything for me, it’s to make a bunch of art. i’ve made serious headway on the art nouveau-tober drawings: “serious headway” in the sense that they’re done, i finished them today). but it does bring out something in me, though. it’s like the whole thought process behind the desire to end your own life: i really wonder if anyone will miss me. i wonder if anyone on there misses me right now as i’m writing this. how do i know people aren’t relieved to not see my handle in their notifications. people were relieved when i was on hiatus and they’re relieved when i don’t update my fics. i could just be finding things to confirm this, but it’s hard not to, though, especially when you have a father who’s picked and chose from you your whole life.

i’ll say this, though: the last time i visited my dad before the pandemic, thanksgiving 2018, i swear to fucking god in heaven, every other sentence out of his mouth was about work or sobriety, and to the point i barely talked the whole week i was up there. first of all, when he was initially getting sober and learning about the new lifestyle, he took it upon himself to label certain people as alcoholics (which is literally against the rules in a.a.), including me. worst drug i ever did was acid and also xanax; but even though once in a while, i’ll have a girly drink, i literally hate the taste of alcohol. and getting carried away with things i love doing =/= addiction. but no: he’s thoroughly convinced that i’m an alcoholic, all because he is.

next, whenever he talked about work, he always brought me into the mix and said this fearmongering nonsense like “if something happens to your mom or him or to me, you’re SCREWED”. it was always “you’re screwed”, too, as if having a job is the other be-all, end-all to life (besides having a fucking raunchy side, of course). never mind imagine hearing that every 30 minutes and wanting to sucker punch him a few times because it’s apparently too much to ask to have him build me up, encourage me, and genuinely love me rather than love me whenever it was convenient - no wonder my mom wasn’t happy with him: he apparently neglected to see ahead and that it’s my art career that’s officially done for and not my prospects.

and finally, he asked me if there was anything he could do for me to rectify things better between me and him, and i told him i didn’t know. i still don’t, either, mainly because murder is illegal but also because there’s nothing you can do, dad. you started the destruction of me when your mind was gone and then my peers finished the job, and you’re doing a shit job of fixing things, too, telling me to “exude confidence so i get a job” rather than... you know, genuinely encourage me in what i love, heaven forbid. i see the disappointment and the disinterest in his face, too, whenever i talk about art and anything i like.

i’ll never forget the time we were talking over the phone (i think it was the same convo where he told me he’s my biggest fan) and he asked me if i was seeing anyone. obviously not, because i was swamped with schoolwork at the time and trying really hard to not lose my mind to anxiety again, and also because every guy i ever liked never liked me back... because the first guy i liked never liked me back and i don’t believe him for one second when he says he does now.

it’s amazing how an update to the layout of a site can move your train of thought along and help you write about your problems. i’ve mentioned that instagram sucks now to him but he never asked me to clarify it, though. if anything, instagram going down the tubes fast now almost feels like a sign to me: a sign that i should just give up art and give in to what he wants because i have no value as an individual person, nor do i have any power whatsoever. he was always right, even under the influence of the drugs.

it’s all just confirmation to me that i don’t matter, and it all started with him.

#personal #don't reblog #text

[hanzi83]

It’s Just Like an Opinion, Man

I had to take a couple of days to write another blog but it has been hard to kind of structure it, especially when nonstop discourse is coming out and it is all forming into something really combustible, like the world already has been combusting the last decade on an insane level. Hopefully I can structure this shit better otherwise I will come back days later and do a better draft, I wouldn’t even say a final draft because I don’t think with me there is ever a fucking final draft. I am clearly not as smart as all the experts which already take my perception down a couple of notches, then add the mental illness in my head, the accumulation of all the trauma in my head that replays constantly and then envisioning what will happen in the future. And I feel like even though I am no longer as relevant as I used to be, that there is still a target on my back, because it would be one thing if I was conspiratorial in the modern typical way where my politics take me more to the right wing and since I was cookie cutter conspiratorial in the 2010’s and falling for every type of story of censorship because it was only talked about online, giving me the illusion that nothing online could ever be funded or amplified and the establishment making mention of it would result in getting reduced to fucked up people making random rumors because they have no lives, and not because establishment like people didn’t believe in the conspiracies, they knew the ones making their name off of it were going to be problematic people, but 10 years ago, the MSM telling me not to trust Alex Jones would not mean shit to me because I know they have lied about shit, and Alex seemingly was the only one talking about the shit that was being talked out, there were others and better but Alex purposefully got the main event push, so if I still believed in cookie cutter conspiracies like I did in 2010, I would be embracing the current narratives that are becoming mainstream and all MSM have to do is play the WWE role, where you will instantly get credibility if you shit on them and think no one else is doing it. Everyone is doing it, everyone has been doing it, but what was valuable in the 2010’s is not valuable in 2023. Anyone can claim they are anti war or they are being critical of the system, while also normalizing other shitty people who are currently aligning with very dangerous far right wing elements, while limiting the narrative and dumbing down the villains while still getting credit for making hacky analysis over the sports entertainment. People who present themselves as progressives and are more concentrated on their comedic banter and their shitty sports entertainment personalities, are the ones who get to claim they are keeping it real and being fair at a time where the far right is trying to take over and knowing that everything on the surface will fall flat on its face, people like TYT can get on the same page with Matt Gaetz because they think he is gonna act in good faith to get inside stock trading done with AOC, if I suspect their goal is to get their fundamentalist takeover and they are getting some credit, and trust me it will probably not go anywhere, but some of the progressives start acting like it is just about the policy issue when they know, in my personal opinion, this is my theory, but they know where the world is going and that is why they are trying to be “fair” to the right wing, when the right wing trajectory system that is in play has always existed, even if in “kayfabe” a democrat is the president, they are gonna have the standard booking a WWE character will have but if you talked about how our world is a lot more organized, then all of a sudden I am the right winger when the people accusing me of that, are the ones who are pivoting there. I should stop watching TYT but it is like WWE to me now, I know it is gonna get worse, and as each day passes, them trying to be fair with right wing people, knowing they are the heels being booked to make better points on some level, while at the same time doing the over the top heel shit that we will all boo. I know when people contact me online because no one can interact with me unless they are permitted, so people will ask me to come on their show, and I see them aligning with very far right wing people and to me that normally hints that people with power are listening to my podcast and reading these blogs. Sometimes I want the blog to be such a mess, it gives the people who hate me a fucking headache reading it. But they need me on a platform with a bigger audience, so it puts more attention on me officially and then they can recreate more of a harassment campaign on me. It is getting to them because they have to pretend they don’t know I write these blogs or do the podcasts but they are getting nervous at me being conspiratorial despite them perpetuating that I am mentally ill which puts me in a position where you don’t take seriously and devalue me because I am not hanging out with other elitists and other cogs who have prostituted their beliefs and principles. They have these resources and the man power and they can fuck my life up but they figured me being irrelevant will be a mental prison, because they already manipulated people in my life and from my past, the ones that know there is something important to me but they can’t say that so they pretend they are genuinely friendly with me so they can insert themselves into my life, and since a lot of them hate me, they can’t wait to align with my enemies because they think they are charismatic enough to fucking go at me, and even if they succeed and screw me over, I will go away and die and I will still haunt them from beneath. So they already taken that away from me despite people saying it is me who never reaches out and I don’t, because once I know people have helped the system torment me from the shadows and with online accounts and then being sick and sociopathic enough to pretend to be nice to me and try to find a way to insert their way into my existence so they can keep my life in chaos. People with power can manipulate their audiences to do shit, which is why people like TYT are completely useless with their shit narratives because they will pretend to go at the villains in a dumbed down way but then they say that someone like Tim Pool is not responsible for what has happened, and a lot of pussy entertainers, even the shitty ones in alt media, will downplay the influence knowing that the democratic narrative is designed to fall flat on its face and it is normalizing a white supremacist ideology on a massive level. But when you downplay the people with big platforms and how dangerous they could be, you are already dumbing it down, because it is not just about influencing people, there could be a chance that this mafia system has their problematic people have their cults go out and carry out this shit. Again that is just my theory, all these right wingers can talk about how they think shit is a psyop, and adopt conspiratorial language to facilitate their aspirations for the fundamentalist shit, but when you downplay how everything is aligned and attached to entertainment, it shows me you don’t have any solutions, you will pretend that things have to be done by the books and fighting people with ideas, but a lot of your on surface ideas fucking suck. The world is already not fair and none of these people play by the rules advertised and they are doing the most underhanded shit, but shit heads who are supposed to be better than MSM are the ones tone policing when it comes to protests. They can’t face they are selling out , and they are pretty much establishment types despite screaming the word “INDEPENDENT” Independent has never meant so fucking little and it is a blanket way to say they are trusted because they seemingly don’t have connections to the system. How does it feel to pretend to anti MSM but you all have the same boring personalities and guess what when it is all said and done, a lot of you are gonna have to deal with the fact when shit hits the fan you will be in the same category as the people who helped normalize the invasion of Iraq and what happened from all of that. Like when places like TYT are normalizing Matt Gaetz and have done several stories that are kind of not disagreeing with DeSantis, and I know to most people who think this is what it is, this is just being fair, but it isn’t really being fair because you would explain the limitations for anything progressive to happen and that a lot of these neoliberals are probably secret far right wing people in my opinion that are making shit so unbearable and address shit in a generalized way that you could justify why DeSantis doing the anti China law is not that bad of an idea, of course someone as cookie cutter as Ana Kasparian would not think there is anything wrong, but there are other laws he is passing but the fact you are doing “I gotta be fair to DeSantis” when there is so much fucking more there that is gonna be evil and you help sensationalize the China thing when it will fuck with regular people etc or the fact that he is asking for proof of rape and incest within 6 weeks, or some other anti immigration shit he is doing this is the story you put out to disagree, and it became obvious when I feel most stories the media in general do is not what it seems as far as how a lot of the viral shit is manufactured or orchestrated but when they bow down to the right wing by retracting a previous story which ended up being “DeSantis derrangment syndrome” when to me that story was designed for it to be a fake story so that right wing people want retraction for it because the rules are catering to them, they are gonna be in this era of them being “proven” right, that is why they are pushing for the trans shooter manifesto to be released because there is something there that will help their cause. I know the left doesn’t want to get conspiratorial and they will make it about just the guns, and guns are very much the issue and the lax gun laws, but if you don’t think the entertainment and media has an effect on dumbed down and brainwashed people you are fucking naive and you have no interest in having a real conversation about shit. When I say entertainment, I am talking about other cogs in the system who are being used as political tools to start a culture war issue that normally helps people become more regressive and then when the lawmakers do some shit, it then helps radicalized types of people act out how they are acting out.  And now a reason why some of these alt media people would be saying shit like “I don’t think someone influential should be held responsible for what is being done” it basically means you know you are gonna be normalizing more propaganda and you don’t want to be held accountable for it and truth if a lot of you who dumbed down Donald Trump and still needed to do a fucking hacky impression of him that all of you have beaten into the fucking ground, you have lowered people’s guard of what is to come but it won’t be matter because these cowards are already protected by their right wing masters. 

It is one of the sickest things on the planet that so much tragedy and chaos is happening and I feel it is being made to fucking happen, and the most we get out of this shit is pretentious sports entertainment where it becomes about the sports entertainment personalities that some of these people promote. I am glad there are people on the left who call out the propaganda on some level, but you know nothing is gonna happen to these people as far as being exposed for their real evil shit just yet but them being in the discourse constantly is just promotion for the future because these figures are gonna be pivotal in the discourse and entertainment. It is moving more to the right wing, and I feel Hollywood has expanded into the real life discourse because our lives are essentially manifested fiction with reality show shit and that is why you are finding out about all these problematic celebrities who want to turn heel and join that side, but then the supposed alt media who are supposed to better than MSM are now chasting people for “canceling” people so it becomes because wokeness has gotten so out of control, and it is a boring trope that is not that fucking entertaining. But people who claim they will keep bringing up the policy issues, most of you know it is not gonna matter because they are planning on complete and utter bedlam, it is already too late and cogs and Arkham Asylum weirdos are being produced to do shit that is happening. So if you have stayed this long with my shitty and unstructured blog long enough, let me get a bit more conspiratorial because this is to counter the right wing’s claims of psyop and why it is a big mistake for people on the “left” to completely diminish the conspiracy in general. And I am telling you this shit is actually gonna help the right wing solidify themselves but most people on the left can’t even think 9/11 was an inside job, they are only permitted to acknowledge the Saudi angle. So why would I expect you to buy into a conspiracy. And my “conspiracy” is not to downplay the severity of white supremacist ideology because no one in the MSM or even the bigger alt media platforms will ever explain how advanced the white supremacy is now. That is why we focus on the aesthetic of the past, because we try to correlate the same aesthetic current but back then in the late 90’s and 2000’s, a lot of us edge lords thought we were better with race, feminism, etc because we are all hanging out and being ignorant because our definition of racism, was the shit that was prevalent in the early 1900’s where there was segregation, and frowning upon interracial relationships, so we didn’t know how to recognize other normalized racism within out entertainment and media discourse, because it was more sophisticated, and now we look back at all the problematic shit from the early 2000’s and 90’s and  pretend like we are better now and there is more advanced ways to execute what they have been doing. People will point out when people joked like edgelords in a more current era and use the age or the year that this happened and act like “How could this happen it is 2016” but the thing is all the problematic and dangerous shit has always found a way to sophisticate itself more by targeting the sensationalist shit to normalize more of the ignorance and now people who are supposed to be the smartest in the room have helped dumb shit down and there are a lot of people who are not really political, they don’t think they are even though the entertainment they consume has politics embedded and they are being manipulated on some level, but there are a lot of people who don’t trust how the world is advertised, they do think shit is fishy and how well shit is organized and orchestrated and that is why conspiracies can always be sold, and since the shitty fucking “progressive” side always snoot their shitty noses at people who think with conspiratorial shit, it has helped people be lured into right wing cults online that are always controlled by feds. Everyone is essentially a government agent and it feels like when the heels are allowed to be horrible, the “good” people are such limited baby faces that people end up thinking the heel is more cool, and apparently being cool is a number one thing for these shit heads who are cogs in the system and they can’t fathom that they are not relevant for 5 minutes and they have to conjure up more chaos that doesn’t solve shit and it fucking makes things work. That is why the wrestling discourse is a fucking joke, people need more worked shoots online to get worked by but if you insinuate that shit online is a work and designed for engagement and for social currency, a bunch of “smart” fans think that is not possible and they act dumb about  it. Now these companies, in my opinion, are helping funding chaotic sports entertainers online to cause more shit. We are in such a cultic world that we want to pretend that shit is just playing out the way it is playing out and not that there is a deeply embedded plan to help establish a fundamentalist dystopian future. So in the 2010’s because there was a mindset within conspiratorial thinking that anything the MSM says happened, the automatic response that would get regurgitated is that it didn’t happen, or there would some alt history that they were pumping and because you know the MSM is lying in general, you would tend to disagree, and even when Muslims were being used as fodder so they could justify why you need to watch them more, or we can talk about what the feds have done to black empowerment groups, that history is there where the feds have involvement with shit all the fucking time and when you are under their radar, in my opinion, there is no way you could just get away with doing something if you were not permitted to, and now the right wing are the ones who are calling out the FBI and the intelligence agencies because they are going after Trump on some level, and because there have been other corrupt shit going on in the political world and showbiz world, people focusing on Trump and him seemingly being able to get away with whatever, it has helped his cause, so now the right wing are adopting all the conspiracy language and because there has been a history of people thinking that people have been used by the feds to commit terror, now the far right wing can mention it, and in 2010-2011 Alex Jones, who feels like a completel insider and a fed like person, when he put out that the next common thing that will be promoted in MSM to take away guns are false flag situations etc, and then a lot of them ended up being promoted on another level, where someone like me thinks that there is something to this shit, and I bought into the taking away the guns argument, even though I don’t have guns nor have I ever, when I used to rap, I said I did have one but everyone knows that was bullshit, the attempts to rap and me having a gun, I thought it would bring me credibility but that is another sad story but I bought into that, and thought maybe this shit could be orchestrated, or maybe this stuff could be fake, like I went back and forth with it but then I realized that maybe because these far right wing fundamentalists knew that there would be more people getting some liberal power in the system to advocate against the NRA etc, that these people have created these scenarios to scare people because whenever there are mass shootings, there are gun sale increases. But the right wing gets to cater to the conspiracy theorists, even though the right wing trajectory system are the ones who are organizing it. You can’t say that it is super crazy when you have people who don’t give a shit when they bomb innocent kids overseas and they lock up black kids and try them as adults, or god knows what these people do to the migrants who get detained. You literally have right wingers proclaim that the cost of having guns are the lives that might have to die, but the far right will never think whenever something is done to discredit BLM when there are people invoking their name before they do an attack, and you will never be suspicious about that, and because people on the left are afraid of being conspiratorial, they wouldn’t even bring up how people could be framed to do shit. And because this aesthetic of someone being out in the open with extreme right white supremacy beliefs, it feels way too over the top to seem real, and my take is that these people who are doing these shootings are the system’s sacrificial lambs to act out there shit but they will do it in a way where it looks over the top to most people who don’t believe the government or the media, and if something does come true about the feds organizing this, since the right wing is “opposed” to the FBI, it would make it look like shit is being done to frame them, so then the talking heads can then feel justified in having to fight back, and the progressives who were completely dismissive of a conspiracy at all, will then pivot to the right wing because they will officially change sides but under the guise of them not agreeing with right wing people being framed. You can be a conspiracy theorist and analyst and not have to be a regressive right wing cunt. This is how they will fucking win. Again, just my theory and my opinion. I am not a violent person, nor do I have any weapons. The system already has me monitored. They will eventually have to kill me because they haven’t been able to get me to go the extreme, they sure as hell had influential “leftists” types, who are now embracing the sophisticated right wing help kind manipulate my opinions to some extent, but now when most of them are arguing about who was invited to other post left sports entertainers weddings and all of that shit, it is like all these people have become parodies, it is like when someone who was credible is going to WWE, you hope they maintain their serious push but then they end up doing comedy bits where they are all acting like completely parodies. They all become Big Van Vader in 98, where you end up defeated and declaring to the camera you’re a fat piece of shit. So while I don’t think this specific Texas shooter was the prime person in this situation even though he carried shit out, I look at the white supremacist elements on a grandview. And yes a minority can buy into white supremacist and fundamentalist shit, these shit head right wingers are complaining about forced diversity but I never seen such forced diversity in this new fundamentalism that is normalizing itself, and because the entertainment world has ties to the government and fundamentalism, these people think they are defeating Hollywood liberals, so they an officially enact their kind of entertainment. These people will talk about mental health and guns, knowing that there is gonna be no solution to it. People talk about it, but you know it is more about shitty republicans pretending that they care but then they ended up taking away more funding for that kind of shit, or the shitty democrats who want to address guns then fucking cave into these republicans, and maybe because this world is moving into a fucking chaotic place, there is clearly white supremacy on a grand level, you literally have all these speaking engagements where people are speaking with white supremacists and anti Semites on their docket, and we still have to keep dumbing it down. Even when you are a token minority to the right wing they will throw you under the bus, this guy in Texas probably did their bidding and then they use a fucking different picture because their racist audiences will blame 2 different people with the same name are the same guy like you are comparing 90’s sitcom characters who would change actors. 

And let’s say there is something fishy about having a post on a random Russian site which I do believe is true but I believe it is so out there, that people are not gonna believe this is real because it is way too over the top, but also when you name different content creators who were influential in this decision, and there is something that proves there was more of a psyop, this shit ends up helping the content creators because now their audience and other people who don’t believe in the MSM system, will then think that Tim Pool and Jimmy Dore are a threat to the system that they have to now be followed. This is why people should not completely shit on the conspiracies, but then again there are supposed progressives who are rehabbing Tucker’s “real life persona” because they think these leaks are actual real life texts and not shit that was designed for the online sports entertainment, because there have been many progressives now who suddenly go “Even though Tucker promotes this shit to his audience, it is good to know that he at least doesn’t like Trump and he actually doesn’t actually feel the way he does'' so they present him like an actor on the airwaves, even though he is an actor in this. Again I am a conspiratorial person so I don’t believe when a talent has a beef with their company, especially one that has perpetuated racist shit their entire tenure  on the air. They know legacy media is dying so this will help Tucker, they will make it seem like they are smearing him and even though Tucker does tell some truths about the media, people who blindly hate him, will think that is the lie, but that is the dangerous thing because he will be guilty of the same things he says about how the media operates, it is basically MAGA CM Punk movement, if Trump was supposed to be MAGA Steve Austin. And people will say it is impossible because there are real lawsuits etc, but does anyone ever really pay the price, like if Tucker really angered the system, you wouldn’t even know about his troubles at all, he would just be gone from the public sphere, but he has gone on social media and now we have to pretend that is 100 percent genuine. And all these “left” leaning people who used to feud with some of these alt right villains are finding common ground but if you point out they are pivoting to the right wing, they will just say they are being fair in a game that is not fair, people actually think the democrats are scared of a debate, if they really were, you wouldn’t know about it, but this helps them look like losers because they are being booked to fail the people while others will climb up the ranks, it is like whenever anyone points out the obvious booking errors in the world of wrestling and people don’t see how the discourse is now playing out online and that is where the showbiz world and theatrical shit is going. You can’t tell me any different, tell me what people are talking about a week after the tragedies that take place, we are talking about wannabe Howard Stern like people. This is why when they show Howard Stern, they show the over the top cartoonish racism and ignorance he has done, but not the normalized sophisticated propaganda, because most public figures do the latter opposed to the former, they show the former because then if you make Howard Stern comparisons to Jim Cornette, or Jimmy Dore or Bill Maher etc, then you don’t think it is accurate because dumbed down 2000’s edge lord shit is what you define Howard by. If I saw the originals do this shit, then I can see when a newer generation is being exposed to this rebooted shit Again my personal opinion, a personal opinion from a devalued member of society. I have to publish some of my thoughts because at least you know my intentions are for the sake of good but guess what if you didn’t believe me, that is fine, everyone ends up becoming a liar anyways, but I rather be dead than be paid to lie, and if I am lying it is because I legit don’t fucking know. All I do know is what I see. I believe there are things that can be solved, but now we live in an era where they have stories about child labor happening and it is very dangerous, so they will have evidence of it happening but you think anyone is gonna stop this shit? They just promote more trauma porn and more bad news and then we have to suffer from shit heads like Crowder and Matt Walsh who are the most uncharismatic people on the planet and we have to then get giddy for fake sports entertainment shit that embarasses them when it is part of their new storyline arc in this reality show world we live in. Just look how phony this CNN and Trump shit is, make no mistake about this, everyone who had inside knowledge of where the world is going, they all did propaganda by promoting Trump even if they said they were against him, because they constantly promoted him when they could’ve ignored him but then people in the media say they can’t ignore him because he is a populist, then you guys wonder how some of the worst people get normalized and because the system is corrupt already and people are all liars etc, it helps their cause because why is Trump the only one that gets focused on which does help him because anyone who attacks him is not credible with the propped up internet discourse. So this CNN shit was symbolism of the network officially making its heel turn even though they have been establishment baby faces, they are the John Cena, they propped up the status quo while being shady but then you have trouble makers calling out the status quo but they will uplift some white supremacist shit in subtle ways but they called out the system so I have to believe they are genuine. I didn’t watch the town hall, but I know it is just gonna help him, by the way all the people who talk about mentally ill criminals and the devaluing of homeless people, what is your excuse for allowing mentally ill criminals on your platform, maybe send some of these mentally ill criminals you fear monger about, and put them in showbiz, and politics. Not only can you get power to do more mentally ill things, you will have people defending your crimes and your every move. We live in a fucking mentally ill world, where they will take mentally ill cogs and use them for their agendas and then we have twist and turns like a true crime drama to have some type of Wrestlemania like event for these state sanctioned hits, now all of a sudden we are seeing 2 other people in the Jordan Neely situation that could also be guilty, and then the disgusting video the right wing used after Jordan Neely was killed, they have a video of the guy who killed him, act like he didn’t know he was dead and acting like this was just a warning. Don’t fucking tell me that shit is not mentally ill level manipulation and people are justifying this killing. People are being eased into this new fundamentalist level propaganda, but it has to Pat Robertson level of obvious and I don’t think people give a shit and the people selling out didn’t ever intend on helping out in the end, they all wanted to use the “independent” guise to think it is more credible than the MSM and establishment and at the end of the day it looks even fucking worse. You can keep promoting Trump’s crimes that he is probably guilty of but then you know nothing happened, if regular people were fucking accused of the shit these people were, they would not see the light at all, and this mother fucker is on CNN doing townhalls, he is doing whatever the fuck he wants and people want to think it is normal. You will insist on dumbing down his threat and then ask why the feds are not doing anything. You are afraid to expand your mind and you are letting bad faith actors run the conspiratorial narratives. Congratulations on that shit. I know the shit I am saying is getting at them, because they can now use their power to help organize this kind of shit in Canada, and people are just allowing people like Bari Weiss to normalize propaganda about how there is crime leniency in Canada because someone who was black committed crime and used systemic racism as an excuse for why he did it, I really that it probably helped him get in that position, but they are sensationalizing it to make it seem that any black person accused of a crime will not be believed because now you think they are favoring them. It is like when the tell you that you can’t make fun of Islam, and what do people do? They constantly still spread propaganda against Muslims all the fucking time, but the establishment said no, so I guess the ones who are doing it are really really naughty. Those people are the biggest mental pussies because they can’t even admit that the rhetoric they are spewing is funded by the system, but they can’t have it be seen as a system narrative. They are luring in migrants for slaughter and fear mongering so they can blame the crime on illegal immigrants coming in and then it becomes the blame game, but no matter who the president is, it is still a right wing policy and now you are radicalizing people to believe shit against the general community. I feel between the Trucker convoy and other type of movements, especially the ones that media people in the US mention, they are putting more attention on it because they want a right wing takeover to happen all over the fucking world. Elon Musk replying to all these accounts online who are pumping up right wing conspiracies are being done to fucking help their cause in my personal opinion, because there has never been a time where conspiracies have become more true in the overall sense, and it still has a twisted message from right wingers who are guilty of the shit they are accusing their enemies are doing. Tucker Carlson saying intelligences agencies have control of people in congress is kind of a perceived true statement to people, but since you all pretend to hate Tucker, you will say the entire premise is off, but why couldn’t I fucking believe it, I think media people are government agents too, especially Tucker and that whole fucking new right wing crew that are being propped up in the discourse and dominating. They can literally weaponize shit, I see transgender trending on twitter and because the right wing blue checkmark people are dominating it, so now you have a bunch of sensationalist shit to weaponize against trans people, and people don’t think the ones doing it should not face any accountability. Ana Kasparian will give carte blanche to to Tim Pool, Libs of Tiktok after doing stories of their rhetoric causing threats to a children’s hospital, but she has no idea about what to do with the homeless or these “mentally ill criminals” I know I use TYT as a main example, but I really do think they have helped create problematic characters who they had a fake sports entertainment feud with and then at the right time, they will all have mutual meeting spot. These kinds of people would chastise anyone not trusting them and they would use their independent status even though someone like Cenk started in the MSM, no one is allowed to flourish independently if they didn’t have ties to the fucking system. Again everything here is just a mentally ill man talking about stuff, these people would prefer me to get radicalized and be made to do something like the trolls have tried to manifest and some of these establishment people work hand in hand with the mercenaries assigned to give me a hard time. I know I have mental illness, but I know that a lot of you with platforms are mentally ill as well, but you are so mentally ill and broken, you can’ fathom not being relevant for 5 minutes, so no matter the cost, and you have everyone praising you but me giving my opinion on how this is playing out is the big “no no” for some reason. Sorry for talking about this, maybe I should talk about the guy with more gimmicks than Ed Leslie, George Santos, the guy even has a bodyguard who walks around with him, like that is when you know in wrestling terms, that someone is getting a push, they get a bodyguard, although I don’t see George Santos being HBK, but even if he loses his job, I know he is not gonna suffer any real consequences, he will still get gigs and make money off of this shit, I am supposed to be shocked with the revelation of the fucking corrupt judges on the supreme court are not ethical people, people have knew this kind of shit, but people act like this is some brand new shit, and the only reason we are getting promotion of these villains is because they are gonna be around in the future and we are establishing heel level shit. We are stuck online making Michael Tracy a fucking character, someone who was so uncharismatic that when he posted on the alternate youtube channel of TYT, they had to put another thumbnail on because no one wanted to click on videos where he was on because the guy is one of the most boring personalities on the planet, I personally think he exists solely for Josh Gad to play him when they make a movie about the dirt bag left. They will definitely get David Schwimmer to play Sam Seder. I don’t know what Majority Report’s trajectory is because I don’t agree with all their narratives but they are not as bad as TYT or Jimmy Dore, but since everyone is going to the right, I am sitting here wondering when they are gonna go to the right. I don’t want them to, but it feels like everyone is going there. Anyways this blog has been enough already but I needed to get this shit out of the way. It is bad enough that more and more horrible shit is happening and more people are being targeted and they could lose their lives but the ultimate goal afterwards is to make it about sports entertainment. I think people who want to sell out and go to that side are mad they were not able to radicalize me, in fact none of them would ever specify what was wrong with some of the people I would listen to with political issues, they had a stupid grin like they knew. And now people who wanted to be thought leaders and be influential are mad that people feel disappointed with their bullshit because all they wanted at the end of the day was their own cult, I wouldn’t mind cults if they were used for the sake of good to counter evil, but most people end up becoming the evil and they can’t resist the elitist lifestyle and they can’t even say the words of what they embrace because they have to still maintain they are doing good shit because they talk about the kayfabed issues of the villains they dumb down. Honestly I was better off just buying into the obvious establishment shit, it feels like I wasted the last several years thinking that maybe people who presented themselves as true tellers are more educated than me because they talk about how much smarter they are. I know he is my distant uncle, even though I never met him but because I don’t know everything about politics in other countries, I never know if some of these cult of personalities are genuine, because on the surface I see him being fucked with while the far right wing is kind dominating over there, but does that mean Imran Khan is a genuine good guy because it is impossible to be in politics or be  celeb and everything about you is perfect. I have no idea what to believe because the history of smarter people knowing more ends up backfiring on me because I gravitate to people who might be against the powers that be but then they are aligned with other portions of it. I sit back and I reflect because I think about how easily I could’ve been sucked into this bullshit if I kept falling for more right wing propaganda normalized through entertainment and the online stuff. I could pat myself on the back but it feels like the side I am on mentally feels like it is not gonna be possible to even think this way in the future. I have to fucking see people who normalized the problematic figures and let us know about what evil they have done and years of hyping us up that they will get theirs, you think Trump gives a shit about incriminating himself, but I guess that is how low the bar has to be for this CNN embracing of Trump that we think someone who did horrible things incriminated himself on television like anything has happened from past incriminations. I didn’t intend on writing this long but I am more mad about me not being smart enough from the get, and I feel like no matter what era I am, I am always going to be prone to following for propaganda, and if I keep up my guard then I am the asshole who doesn’t want to believe other viewpoints. How many times do people have to get fucked over before we are gaslit into buying into another shitty pretentious mentally ill public figure that will end up showing who they are and we just repeat it all.

#Hanzi 2023 conspiracy news sports entertainment propaganda media discourse psyop opinions disclaimer

[the-insomniac-emporium]

I love your writing.

if it's not too much trouble may i make a request? I'm thinking the Dimitrescu women meeting and/or courting a fellow immortal.

the circumstances of the immortal's powers and possession of immorality are entirely up to you. I just like the idea of them meeting someone they could literally spend forever with...because they deserve it ❤

I wasn't sure if you wanted a story or headcanons? I went with HCs, here, but if you wanted more of a drabble or whatever just lemme know and I'll write something like that.

Also, I got excited and carried away so this has the whole Dimitrescu family, plus shorter ones for both Mother Miranda and Donna. Admittedly Alcina's is also a little on the shorter side? I tried to write everything that came to mind, but I am kinda tired right now, sorry. Might reblog this and add some more later.

(Under read-more for length)

Cassandra:

Tries (and fails) to hide her excitement. Mortality is one of the bigger things that has made her keep her distance to others, at least in the past. Every Maiden she’s ever been the slightest bit smitten with, up until this point, has been incredibly fragile. Seeing as she’s not exactly the softest person, one can easily imagine why that would be a turn off for her. But now that’s no longer a problem!

On the other had… having an immortal partner gives Cassandra pause. Why? Because what if they breakup? Normally, she can just, ahem, “dispose” of any exes (regardless of how much it hurts) so she doesn’t have to see them/deal with them anymore. If that’s not an option, she’ll definitely take longer than usual to do anything about her feelings. She wants to be sure, 100%, before she gets in over her head. Chances are she won’t hold back for as long as she wants though.

Likely to have a loud, messy confession. She’ll have been avoiding you for a few days, always ducking out of whatever rooms you enter, leaving you both hurt and confused. After enlisting the help of her sisters, you’ll be able to corner her outside. She’ll tell you, under no uncertain circumstances, to leave her alone. But you’ll refuse, demanding an explanation.

“I thought we had something. I thought you cared,” you’ll snap, eyes watering. “If that’s changed… if I was wrong, just tell me. I’ll leave and I’ll never come back.” Cue thunder and raining (because tropes) and Cassandra dramatically pulling you into a kiss, holding you so tightly you think you might bruise. Then she’s demanding that you stay, refusing to apologize but making it clear just how much she does care.

Being immortal, you’re not as defenseless as some of Cassandra’s past interests. Naturally, she doesn’t get quite as protective as she normally would. She’ll still have your back no matter what, ready to fight by your side against any foe, and will probably consider doing so a “fun bonding activity”. Oh, some lycans are encroaching on Dimitrescu territory? Time to go destroy them, as a power couple!

Despite having all the time in the world, Cassandra won’t change much of her actual courting behavior, nor the rate at which things advance. She’s still gonna get handsy fairly early on, still gonna “rah!” at you in the hallways, and still going to struggle with her jealousy.

Immortality Compatibility: I can see Cassandra going for another vampire (or vampire adjacent) creature, or someone demonic. She likes her lovers a bit rough, with some nice bite to their personalities. If you’ve got sharp teeth, or claws, or glowing eyes? Oh boy, she’s gonna be making heart eyes at you all the time.

Bela:

If your immortality isn’t immediately obvious, Bela is over the moon with joy when she finds out. Her eyes will go wide for a moment, before she tries to seem calm (so as to not freak you out), but her heart is pounding. This is what she’s been hoping for. As much as Mother Miranda has done for her family, there’s no guarantee that she’d be willing to give more. Even if Miranda granted Bela’s lover her “gift”, there was no telling what the results would be, or if the lover would survive. Now that there’s no need for such a transformation, it’s far easier for Bela to imagine herself in love (and eventually be in love).

Slow-burn romance over a decade or longer, oops. Doesn’t even necessarily mean to take things so slowly, just doesn’t feel a need to rush things, preferring that they develop organically. With both of you having unlimited time, you’re both used to working on a very large timescale. Maidens watching the two of you probably place bets on how long it’ll take you to hold hands for the first time. Everyone knows it’s coming, but no matter how much Cassandra and Daniela complain, Bela refuses to jump into things. By the time the two of you are officially together, you’re probably madly in love with each other.

More protective than Cassandra, if only because she knows just how rare you are. Immortal or not, you likely still have a weakness, and Bela will do everything in her power to make sure no one else knows what it is. If applicable, she will also ensure she has a countermeasure readily available. For example: If you were weak to fire, she’d make sure that the castle keeps extinguishers handy, just in case. Though they should probably already do that. Not that the Dimitrescu family cares much for OSHA compliance.

Somehow grows more in love with you with every passing year, and makes sure that you know this. Whether you’ve been together for one year or one century (because in this house we ignore canon), she’s always performing little acts of love, giving constant reminders of how strongly she feels. Gifts, special dates, book recommendations, etc.

Immortality Compatibility: Bela seems like the type to go for someone with a calming presence, and perhaps somewhat of a contrast to herself. I can picture her with someone somewhat angelic, or druidic, someone very in tune with nature. She’d love to feed deer with you and relax in the forest! Or lay against a tree by your side, listening to you talk about various microorganisms for hours at a time.

Daniela:

Practically tackles you when she finds out/connects the dots. This is just like one of her romance novels, where a lonely (attractive as fuck) immortal spends years in isolation before finally meeting the love of their life, who they get to spend the rest of eternity with. Absolutely ecstatic about the whole situation. Won’t stop kissing you and pulling you close, rambling about how great it’s gonna be to spend your lives together. Honestly? Kind of overwhelming. You might have to remind her a few times that you don’t have to rush into things, considering you have all the time in the world.

Introduces you to people as her “super cool/rad immortal life partner”. Genuinely cannot bring herself to not brag about you. If her sisters haven’t found someone like you yet, you can bet that Daniela will tease them about it all the time (much to their annoyance). If Momma Alcina doesn’t, though? Dani will keep her thoughts to herself, thank you very much (being grounded at her age does not impress the s/o).

Tries not to show it, but she’s actually very nervous. You’re immortal! You’ve probably seen a lot of shit (she certainly has)! Worries about keeping you interested in her, though she would never admit it. This tends to lead to her performing ridiculous acts to showcase her affection, regardless of the cost or, like, whether or not you’d even enjoy whatever she has planned. In order to counter her anxiety, you’ll want to reassure her whenever you can, and give her plenty of “I love you”s.

Strikes a decent balance between Cassandra’s nonchalant attitude and Bela’s protectiveness. Will defend you if you need it, playing up the romantic aspect, but also entirely willing to hide behind you in a scary situation.

Immortality Compatibility: Having probably read Twilight… Dani would date a werewolf, as long as they weren’t the smelly kind. Also interested in a sort of “magical”/elemental type, especially if their powers are influenced by emotions. In other words, if someone flirts with her in front of you, and your response is to subconsciously light your hands/the other person on fire? She thinks that’s hot, pun intended.

Alcina:

“Oh? Interesting,” she’d say, smiling softly (and trying to ignore the heat rushing to her face). Similarly to Cassandra, she’d try to play it off, not wanting to seem too excited. And, well, she’s not as excited as any of her daughters are. After all, she’s had more time than them to “get used” to the idea of outliving any potential romantic interests. So, she’s not exactly desperate for a relationship, even with someone she could spend an eternity with.

That being said, if she is romantically interested in them, she’s very relieved. Outliving a loved one can be incredibly traumatizing (fuck you c*pcom, you know what you did), and knowing that you’re safe (or at least safer than most) brings her no small amount of comfort.

Also, just glad to have another person close to her age around. Her daughters are somewhat stuck as young adults, and I imagine Alcina would want someone who gained immortality a little later in life, such as herself, as opposed to, ya know, reminding her of her children. That probably goes without saying. Hopefully.

More so than her daughters, Alcina would change her level of protectiveness depending on her s/o’s power level. If you’re a shapeshifter who can also turn into a big ass dragon? Then she’s not going to coddle you. If you’re immortal but still vulnerable, then she’s going to do her best to keep you safe, even going so far as to enlist the assistance of her daughters. “If you see a single Maiden growing mistletoe, or bringing some in from the village, let me know immediately,” or something like that, depending on your weakness.

Immortality Compatibility: Definitely would want someone in a situation similar to herself, having once been truly human, only to be “elevated” by something. Bonus points if you’re another disciple of Miranda, double bonus points if Miranda specifically “made” you to be Alcina’s boo/honey/darling/dear.

Bonus! Mother Miranda:

Oh god finally someone who won’t leave her (can’t leave her). No one can take you away from her, and that’s a relief that she’s been craving for over a century. Even if romance isn’t high on her priority list, she welcomes it with open arms, glad to have someone by her side through all of life’s chaos.

Admittedly slow to trust at first, probably just using you as a tool at first. But prove yourself enough, show that your devotion is more than just misdirected self-interest, and she’ll start to warm up to you. Forming a real relationship would likely take a couple decades, similar to with Bela. Once you are together, however, the two of you are inseparable in all matters.

You’d be her #1 follower, most trusted adviser, and the only person allowed to understand 100% of her thoughts and motives. While Miranda wouldn’t allow you to be seen as the same level as her (sorry), you’d still be a legend among the villagers. To them, you’re Mother Miranda’s champion, the epitome of a devoted follower that they all aspire to emulate. Not that they know the two of you are a couple, though.

Immortality Compatibility: No gimmicks, no cheap tricks, she wants (and respects) a fellow scientist, someone who clawed their way through adversity and forged themselves into something indestructible. Double the interest if you did so for a similar cause to her own, as she would appreciate your ability to relate to her suffering.

Bonus! Donna:

Someone to play with! FOREVER! No more losing people she cares about, no more accidentally breaking people, no more people scrambling to leave. Now that she has you, she can finally spend some quality time with another (living?) person. Honestly her dolls (or at least Angie) are just as excited as she is. Regardless of her relations with the other three Lords, Donna much prefers the company of a lover.

For real though she’s shy as hell and you might not even realize who’s pulling the strings until you’ve been in her house for over a year. She’d probably use her powers to trap you inside, at least at first, though they’d be nice hallucinations. You’d have to treat the dolls nicely, especially Angie, before she’d let you interact with her.

Eventually you’d be allowed to leave, and you’d be given a key to return whenever you wanted to. Assuming that you do, in fact, come back, the two of you would have a very, very slow romance, if only because of Donna’s anxiety. Hand holding makes both of your faces turn beet red, seriously.

Immortality Compatibility: *chanting* GHOST GIRLFRIEND GHOST GIRLFRIEND POLTERGEIST PARTNER POLTERGEIST PARTNER WOOHOO! Something with a flexible, only-sometimes-tangible form, who absolutely could have left at any time but didn’t because they wanted to stay.

#cassandra dimitrescu x reader #bela dimitrescu x reader #daniela dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #mother miranda x reader #donna beneviento x reader #resident evil: village #re8 village

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

If I Fell For You (Part 8) - Good Days, Bad Days

Summary: The reader has a special birthday surprise for Jensen and starts to get to know Jared more. When Jensen returns home from Toronto for good though, he and the reader have their first big fight and make more moves in their relationship...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 5,300ish

Warnings: language, angst, fighting, smut

A/N: Enjoy!

________

Thursday Night

“So how do you want me?” asked Jensen, leaning against his closet door in nothing but his boxer briefs. 

“Oh well that’s a dangerous question,” you laughed. “Jeans are fine for where I’m taking you.”

“Alright,” he said. He ducked into the closet and returned wearing only a pair of dark jeans, smirking at you with his hands behind his back.

“Being a little shit?” you asked.

“One of my best qualities,” he said. You hummed and went past him into the closet. “So what should I be wearing on this date out?”

“I’m kinda a sucker for you a henley and flannel. Not to let that go to your head at all,” you said.

“Oh you should never watch Supernatural then,” he chuckled, grabbing a long sleeve white henley off the hanger and pulling it on.

“I did sort of start watching it,” you said. “You look like a little baby that hadn’t hit puberty yet.”

“I got better with age, sweetheart,” he said, flashing you a wink.

“Oh yes you did,” you said. “I like it. It’s kinda scary but not too bad if you watch during the day.”

“It gets less scary pretty fast,” he said, putting on his red and gray flannel. “I all set?”

“You look very pretty,” you said, walking out with him on your tail. “So does the show end happy? Like they live? It’s got this angsty feel to it where I feel like something bad is gonna happen.”

“Do you want me to spoil it?”

“Dean doesn’t like die, right,” you said. He made a face and you frowned. “No. Why? He doesn’t deserve that.”

“Eh, calm yourself woman. Things could happen in the future...he might not have to die...or he might come back and I really shouldn’t be discussing these things.”

“You’d do more?” you asked.

“Oh for sure. On a streaming network where we get to do all the shit we couldn’t on cable. Get some fresh eyes in on the writing or maybe we’d even take a crack at it. It’s not really an if, more of a when so don’t go worrying about Dean. I like my new friends at work and everybody’s great but I miss Jared and my old ones. I’m definitely working with them again.”

“That’s great! Now come on, move that tush. We have reservations.”

“Reservations. Fancy,” he said. He put on a pair of socks and shoved his wallet in his pocket, following you out to the hall when you spun around. 

“Oh yeah,” you smirked. “You may also have a little birthday surprise waiting for your downstairs so eyes shut mister.”

“You’re devious. I like that. I like that a lot. We should explore that later in bed.”

“Tempting. I’ll have to take you up on that,” you said. “Eyes shut.”

You held his hand and he shut his eyes, going down the hall with you. You went slowly down the steps, Jensen’s arm around you the whole time. You grinned and walked him over to the family room before leaving him in place.

“Open,” you said. He blinked open his eyes, quickly landing them on a grinning Jared standing there.

“How the hell are you here?” said Jensen, Jared giving him a big hug he quickly returned. “Shit I missed you man.”

“Me too. But it’s someone’s birthday this week and I don’t have work tomorrow so I caught a flight up this afternoon. Y/N thought I’d make a good present.”

“Fucking awesome present,” he said, still grinning ear to ear. 

“You doing okay?” asked Jared, Jensen nodding. He gave him another hug and you smiled. “So how’s that crush on the nanny working out?”

“Shut up,” said Jensen, smirking as he pulled you into his side. “Jared. I know you guys met already but Y/N is your soon to be best friend just as an fyi.”

“Oh we’ve already started chatting,” you said, Jared chuckling. “He’s really sweet. I had to legit stop him from jumping on a plane that second when I texted him he thought something was wrong.”

“I think between the two of us we can keep an eye on him,” said Jared. “So you mind if I crash your date?”

“Not at all,” you said. “I’m taking both you boys out. My treat.”

“I’ll be back in a minute,” said Jensen two hours later while he excused himself to the bathroom. Jared finished off the last of his beer and smiled as he leaned back in his corner of the booth. 

“You know I’m totally covering this right,” he said.

“Dutch?” you asked.

“I’ll take the alcohol, you take the food.”

“That I can agree to,” you said, glancing over the dessert menu. “I’m really happy you were able to come up to hang out. I know you got your own family and everything and this was last minute.”

“He’s my family too,” he said. “I’d do anything for him. Literally. Don’t ever hesitate to call me, no matter when or where. I’ll be there for him like he’s always been for me.”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a smile on his face like that before.”

“I have. You just didn’t notice that night at the bonfire.” You shrugged and he cocked his head. “How long you two been dating?”

“A month or so,” you said. 

“You like him?”

“He’s alright,” you said, smiling before you took a sip from your glass. 

“Thanks for taking care of him lately.”

“Don’t need to thank me for that,” you said, sliding the dessert menu over to him.

“Yeah but I’m still going to,” he said. “I meant what I said earlier. Between the two of us he’ll be okay again.”

“He’s never gonna be the same. He’ll be happy and it won’t hurt as much. But it’ll come back and hit him time to time.”

“There’s a reason he’s my best friend and it’s not just because we worked together for so long. He’s always been there for me and I’ll be there for him. I feel better about him being up here when he’s got someone else watching his back.”

“You had the hard job, not me,” you said.

“He’s come a long way. Doesn’t mean this is a cakewalk though I’m sure.”

“No, you’re right about that,” you said as you spotted Jensen returning.

“You guys order dessert yet?” he asked, sliding in beside you.

“Why doesn’t the birthday boy pick,” teased Jared, handing the menu over to him. “You guys ought to come home for a weekend when you get a chance.”

“It’s kinda a long way to go with the kids for just a few days,” said Jensen. “But we’ll be home soon. Hopefully.”

“I can get you a gig on Walker anytime you want it dude, just ask.”

“Maybe. I kinda want to get with the guys and maybe work on that Supernatural stuff. I need good stuff to look forward to, you know?”

“I do,” said Jared. “As long as you come home eventually I’ll learn to live with just using your jet skis in the meantime.”

“See what I’ve been dealing with for over a decade?” asked Jensen.

“Oh yes. He’s horrible,” you teased. “We really shouldn’t have him sleepover then, should we?”

“You’re staying at the house?” asked Jensen with a grin.

“Duh. I didn’t just fly a thousand miles to not see you dude. I’m here all weekend. Let’s have some fun.”

“Boys I’m heading to bed,” you said around two in the morning. 

“Yeah we ought to go to bed ourselves,” said Jared.

“I’ll grab you some sheets and stuff,” said Jensen. You waved goodnight to Jared, heading down the hall towards your room when Jensen wrapped an arm around your waist. “I thought you were gonna sleep with me from now on.”

“I am. Want to check something real quick.”

“Hurry back,” he said. He kissed your temple and ducked into his room, leaving you in the hall. You went down to your own and checked your email, smirking when you saw what you were looking for. A rattling of fingers on the door made you glance up, Jensen smiling there. “Texting your other boyfriend?”

“No, I sort of...submitted one of my stories to a publisher. They’ve been talking to me this week and said they’d get back to me today on if they wanted to move forward. They want to do a five book deal. I already have the stories done and mostly drawn anyways. They gave me an offer just now.”

“That’s awesome,” he said. “Seriously. We’re gonna celebrate tomorrow for sure.”

“It’s no big deal,” you said.

“It really is,” he said. He picked you up and grinned, carrying you back to his room. “I’m proud of you.”

“They’re stupid stories,” you said.

“I love those stupid stories,” he said, setting you on the bed. “The kids do too.”

“You’re just saying that cause you’re supposed to say that.” You set your phone on the nightstand and crawled under the covers, Jensen pulling you into his chest when het got underneath.

“My children think their mom is really okay now. They don’t get sad anymore and they ask questions about her again and I don’t want to cry every time I talk about her because your story reminded me that the wolf dad can be happy again for him too. That’s really fucking important to me right now in life.”

“Okay Papa Wolf,” you said. You grinned and he returned it. “Night Jensen.”

“Goodnight sweetheart.”

Two Months Later

“Hey Jared,” you said as you answered your phone. “What’s up?”

“Jensen at work?”

“Yeah. Late night again,” you said. “He’s answering texts between breaks I think.”

“Cool,” he said.

“You need something?” you asked. 

“No, no. I’m good,” he said. “Thanks. I’ll catch you later.”

“You doing okay?” you asked.

“Yeah. Just want to talk to him for a minute,” he said. He was a little quiet and you sat down on the couch. 

“You want to talk to me?” you asked.

“That’s okay.”

“Jared...Jensen and I are starting to get serious which means we’re gonna be together a lot considering how you two can’t go more than a day without talking. We can be good friends too,” you said. He was quiet and you hoped you hadn’t sounded too corny.

“I uh, I have bad days sometimes. Really normal days can be bad days in my head. It’s kinda how I was built I guess,” he said. 

“Nothing wrong with that,” you said. “Today a bad day?”

“Kinda. Nothing happened. I had a normal day at work and home. I’m just off. He um...Jensen makes me feel better as lame as that sounds. Just talking for a few minutes helps my head get on track that somebody really does care.”

“He’s very good like that,” you said. “I know you mean the world to him. You’re his brother. It’s not lame that he makes you feel better. You make him feel better too. I owe you a lot for taking care of him after the accident.”

“I much prefer when I’m the one freaking out and he takes care of me,” chuckled Jared. “You guys coming home soon?”

“He’s got a few weeks left of filming but I might head down a little earlier, try to get the house sorted out down there with the kids and stuff,” you said. “He’s literally counting down the days.”

“He really likes working on the show though I thought.”

“Oh he does but he’s got a big circle on the calendar for the fifthteenth called Jared day. I think your boy is planning something fun.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” he said. “You mind if I ask a personal question?”

“Shoot, buddy,” you said, stretching in your seat.

“Do you love him?” he asked. 

“Going full throttle out of the gate I see,” you said.

“I know. I know how he talks about you though. There’s no...casual relationship with him.”

“Well I haven’t said it to him yet and he hasn’t said it to me so...maybe another time I’ll be able to answer that question.”

“It’s been almost four months. You get to spend more time together than most couples starting out. I’d think you know by now,” he said.

“I do. But he deserves to hear it before anyone else,” you said. 

“So you love him.”

“Most things I love have a habit of going away,” you said. 

“He won’t,” he said. “You do more than make him happy, Y/N. A lot more.”

“I just wish he didn’t hurt.”

“He hurts a lot less lately. Some of that’s time and some of it’s you. Enjoy being one of his best friends. He doesn’t let that many people in that close.”

“I know. We were supposed to be talking about you I thought.”

“Eh, sometimes I just need the talk. Thanks. I got somebody else I can call now too.”

“It’s never a problem,” you said.

“It’s getting late there. I’ll let you go. Thanks for talking, really. I feel better.”

“Anytime Jared.”

“You too, Y/N.”

Three Weeks Later

“Doug you’re a lifesaver,” you said as finished washing Jensen’s truck in the driveway back home in Austin. He smiled as he wiped off his hands and gave Arrow a wave goodbye. 

“I owed you for that 3am incident,” he said. “You got easy kids. Mine are vultures.”

“Yes, yes they are,” you laughed. He gave you a kiss on the check and smiled as he headed back for his car, another one coming down the open driveway. “Later Doug.”

“Later,” he said. Jensen exited the back of the car along with his backpack and a suitcase, the car pulling out, Doug following after.

“Hey. How was the flight?” you asked.

“Who was that?” he asked, dropping his bags on the pavement.

“Oh that’s just Doug. He’s a nanny. I needed an extra set of hands today watching the kids trying to finish up these chores before you got home and it was perfect timing,” you said. You smirked and walked over to kiss him, Jensen taking a step back. “Something wrong?”

“You kissed him.”

“No. I didn’t. He kissed my cheek,” you said. Jensen narrowed his eyes and you scoffed, wiping the sweat off your forehead. “Seriously? He’s my friend.”

“That kisses you.”

“He’s affectionate,” you said. “Also he’s kinda married so you can tone it down with the judgemental looks.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. You’re right. You should be able to kiss whoever you want despite being in a relationship,” he said. He grabbed his bags and brushed past you inside. You grumbled and went after him, finding him upstairs in his room. “What?”

“What stick is up your ass today? I haven’t seen you in almost three weeks. None of us have and you’re in a bad mood.”

“I was perfectly happy until I saw you kissing somebody else.”

“I wasn’t kissing him!”

“It didn’t look like that from my perspective.”

“Jensen.”

“Is this just a little game to you? You get bored of the older guy with kids finally?” he asked, crossing his arms. “Or maybe you just got caught finally.”

“I don’t cheat,” you said, getting in his face. “He kissed my cheek. I’ll call him to come back and explain this situation right now but I apparently you just think I’m a cheater.”

“Well maybe you are. Geez, we’ve been together over four months and no real sex yet? Cause that’s not sending red flags.”

“Because you weren’t fucking ready!” you shouted. “I’m not your wife and I’m never gonna be her. Don’t be mad at me for it.”

“No that’s for sure,” he said.

“The kids are in the front yard. Don’t expect me back today,” you said. You stormed downstairs and into your room, shoving some things in a bag before taking your purse and getting behind the wheel of your car. 

You were seeing red by the time you were out of the suburbs. You slammed your hand against the wheel and shouted.

“You fucking asshole,” you said. You sniffled and drove for a bit before finally pulling off. You drove down a long road, rolling your eyes when of course you passed by his brewery. You’d never been but he’d told you about it more than once. You kept going down the road, eventually finding a park to pull into. You shut off the car and shut your eyes, a knock on the window making you jump. You put down your window when you saw a cop there and did your best to wipe off your face.

“You’re double parked,” he said. 

“What?”

“You’re parked on the line,” he said. 

“Sorry,” you said. 

“Bad day?” he asked.

“Something like that,” you said. You could feel snot threatening to drip down your nose, the officer reaching into a pocket and handing you a tissue. “Thanks.”

“Best not to drive when you’re upset,” he said.

“Yeah. I’m just gonna sit here for a little while,” you said with a nod.

“Probably not a great idea to sit in a car next a playground,” he said. “The mom’s are kinda intense around here.”

“Of course they are,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Why don’t you move your car and you can join me on my patrol,” he said. “It’s only a short walk. Fresh air might do you good.”

“Last time I talked to another man my boyfriend sorta freaked out on me so maybe not a good idea,” you said. You blew your nose and realized what you’d said, the officer staring down. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Why don’t we take that walk so I can find out what you did mean.”

Two minutes later you were walking next to the cop. He had a baseball cap on and was in all black. You weren’t sure how he wasn’t boiling considering it was May in Austin.

“This boyfriend got a name?”

“You gonna run his name or something?” you asked.

“Do I need to?” he asked. You shook your head and he smiled. “He the jealous type? He get angry over you talking to other men?”

“It’s complicated.”

“If it doesn’t get uncomplicated I might have to pay this boyfriend a visit you understand.”

“His wife died last June.”

“Okay. I understand part of the complicated thing now.”

“Why’s he gotta be a dick? Called me a cheater,” you said. You crossed your arms and the cop chuckled. “Sorry.”

“As long as you don’t call me a dick we don’t got a problem. Did you cheat on him?”

“No. He...he works away and he just got home today and my guy friend was over helping me with watching my boyfriends kids while I did some chores and my guy friend is like, a really affectionate guy and he kissed my cheek as my boyfriend was coming in and my boyfriend thinks I was kissing him back and been cheating on him for the past three weeks.”

“Why don’t you just call the guy friend over to explain?”

“He got so pissed so fast and accused me of cheating. I’ve been dating him for nearly five months and he brings up the fact we haven’t had sex yet like that even matters when I’ve been holding back for him and he just blows up on me for fucking nothing,” you said.

“You’re both stubborn people, aren’t ya,” he said.

“Maybe,” you grumbled.

“Maybe this guy is scared and looking for a way out of the relationship. Or maybe he thinks you want out. You mentioned kids. That’s not easy.”

“He’s also...older. There’s an age gap. I was the nanny and now I’m the girlfriend nanny. He’s also kinda...famous,” you said.

“So there’s a lot of stress in this relationship then.”

“No,” you said, dropping your arms to your sides. “It’s not like that.”

“Maybe the dumb bastard just got scared of losing someone again,” he said. “Just a theory.”

“I wish he wasn’t scared,” you said. “I don’t know how to make him not afraid.”

“You ever think maybe he said that because you’re getting in there pretty good now and he’s getting real scared that losing you might hurt just as bad as this wife did.”

“He’s an idiot. But he’s my idiot,” you said. 

“Talk to him. Get an apology and try to forgive him.”

“I already forgive him. I know him. He was scared and I got mad instead of realizing after so many weeks apart all he needed was a freaking hug.”

“Then go home and give him a hug,” he said.

“Thanks,” you said with a nod. “I must have looked like a hot mess or something.”

“Oh for sure,” he chuckled. You smiled and he laughed. “That looks better.”

“Jensen probably left like five messages on my phone by now,” you said. The cop you were with paused and smiled. “What?”

“A kinda famous Jensen. There’s really only one of those in town,” he said.

“Oh. Yeah. Please don’t share that he’s dating. He really wants to keep things private for a lot of reasons right now,” you said.

“He’s my buddy.”

“Your buddy?”

“We went to school together,” he said. “In tenth grade he went for a slide on second base, ripped his pants right down the middle. His hanes bright blue covered ass still managed to get around to home base.”

“He split his pants in a baseball game?” you smiled.

“I know quite a few of his dirty secrets,” he said. “I don’t really know that whole acting thing but him I know and that must make you Y/N. You ever in trouble kid, ever just got a bad feeling and want a cop to come by, give me a call.”

“Thanks,” you said as you took his card. “You really think he’s a dumb bastard?”

“Oh knowing it’s him, 100%. Give him a break. We like him when he smiles,” he said.

“I’m gonna give him a call,” you said. “We should hang out sometime now that Jensen has a break.”

“Definitely. I gotta finish my patrol,” he said. “Take care Y/N.”

“Bye,” you said as you headed back towards your car. You pulled out your phone and saw seven missed calls and twelve unread texts. You tapped the screen and put the phone up to your ear, only ringing for a second.

“I’m sorry,” said Jensen.

“Me too.”

“I’m the one that...shit I’m so sorry, Y/N. I don’t know what happened.”

“You missed me and you were scared and seeing Doug probably hurt like a bitch,” you said.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t want to be the stupid jealous boyfriend.”

“I’m not too far from your brewery if you want to meet there. Get a beer. Blow this over,” you said.

“I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you. Stop apologizing. I want to give you a hug,” you said. 

“I’ll meet you there in thirty minutes?” he asked.

“I’ll see you soon honey.”

“Hi,” said Jensen as you sat at a quiet table in the back, sipping on a beer and eating a piece of pizza. You smiled and stood up, giving him a hug. He tucked his head down and sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey we survived our first big fight as a couple,” you said. “That deserves beer and pizza.”

He sat down next to you, forcing a smile on his face. You reached over and cupped his cheek, Jensen turning into it. 

“Please forgive yourself,” you said.

“I don’t really want to,” he said.

“You called me a cheater. I get what I want today and that’s for you to forgive yourself.”

“I don’t know why I said that.”

“Jensen,” you said, stroking his cheek. “I love you.”

He stared at you, a different look in his eyes, the tiniest sliver of a smile peeking through. You inched closer and slid your hand around to the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss. He felt softer than usual, lips barely moving against yours. 

“I love you,” he said. He wrapped his arms around you and grinned. “I have loved you for a very long time.” You kissed him again, Jensen returning it. 

He left his arm around your back, smirking when you did the same to him.

“Can we forget about earlier?” you asked. He nodded and rested his head on your shoulder.

“One last I’m sorry though,” he said.

“Just don’t call me that again and we’re all good, Jens,” you said. “Now eat some of this pizza so I don’t feel like a glutton.”

“I don’t have to slip into a superhero costume any more so dad bod here I come,” he chuckled.

“Does that mean Solider Boy meets some untimely end?”

“No spoilers,” he said. “But I don’t think I’ll be going back to that show. At least as often. I know I want to direct an episode of walker in the fall. I talked to Jared about it actually so that’ll be fun. I might do a duck and run guest appearance on it. I’ll line up something for next year but I want to be home for awhile, do work around here.” 

“I know quite a few people who would be more than okay with that,” you said. 

“Don’t make any plans for Saturday,” he smirked.

“I thought you were having your Jared day tomorrow.”

“Oh we are. Gen invited you and the kids over. She’d like to get to know you. You’ll love her,” he said.

“So what’s Saturday then?” you asked.

“I’d like to take you and the kids out on the boat. We haven’t been since before the accident. Maybe we can go out for dinner and put up the tent in the backyard, have a sleepover out there with the kids.”

“That sounds fun.”

“And...I’d like to maybe next week take you out for the day, just us, maybe...spend the night somewhere,” he said.

“Like a hotel?” you asked.

“Yeah. Or the kids can have a sleepover at Jared’s. Maybe.” He glanced down and you moved your arm from his back, reaching behind yourself to hold his hand. Green eyes flickered over to yours and you smiled. “I’m-”

“You know if you keep apologizing about earlier I’m not going to have sex with you,” you said. “That’s just facts.”

“Okay,” he chuckled. “No more apologies. Aside from...I really am sorry about what I said. I’m the one that’s been holding back and not once have you asked for more.”

“We said we’d take it slow and that’s okay,” you said. He squeezed your hand and nodded. “I don’t like you because you’re attractive or your hair is great or your arms are massive. Having fun with you is fun but that’s not why I’m here.”

“I don’t know if I can give you things you want,” he said.

“Just give me you and that’s good with me,” you said.

“Okay,” he said quietly. You scooted closer to him, Jensen tucking a stray hair behind your ear. “Let’s do it now.”

“Uh, what?” you said, taking a sip from your beer.

“The kids aren’t home and I don’t want to wait and-”

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” you said, knocking back your beer and flipping the cardboard down over your pizza. He stared and you burped, picking up the box. “There’s like six slices left and this is too good to waste, even for sex.”

“You have literally never been more attractive than in this moment,” he said. 

“I could be.”

“I’ll see you at the house in twenty?”

“Yes you will Ackles.”

Forty minutes later you hand was slapping against his headboard, legs squeezed so tight around his waist you were shocked he wasn’t complaining. You moaned loudly as he teased your clit and he delivered one more hard thrust. He grunted as you gripped his shoulder with your other hand.

“Jensen,” you breathed out. “I’m right there. Please, please, please…”

You arched your back when he thrust hard, fingers rubbing just a bit rougher and you came all around him, every muscle tensed and riding out that high, long, deep, absolutely perfect orgasm. Jensen thrust a few more times before he groaned and rested his head on your shoulder, big panting breaths fanning over your skin. 

He was sweaty but pulled out slowly, plopping down on the bed beside you, hand resting on his chest.

“I don’t know about you but that was good,” he said. “Damn good.”

You giggled between breaths, nodding your head slightly. You tilted it over towards his, Jensen already staring at you with soft hooded green eyes. 

“Definitely damn good,” you breathed. His lips tugged up into a smile, warm and gentle, his head inching closer to you. You sat up and leaned down to kiss him, Jensen breaking off when he needed air. You trailed a finger down his chest before climbing out of bed and excusing yourself to the bathroom. After you cleaned up you found Jensen chucking the condom in the trash and wiping himself off quickly. 

“Come here you,” he said. He picked you up bridal style and carried you back to the bed, laying you down carefully. “I’m big on after sex cuddling just so you know.”

“I find that to be a very attractive quality,” you said as he lay down. He reached down to the end of the bed and grabbed the bunched up blanket, pulling it over the two of you. His arm slid under your head and he pulled you into his side, encouraging you to use him as a pillow. “You’re warm.”

“So are you,” he said. He kissed your temple and let out a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“I never thought I’d be able to do that ever again. Let alone not feel bad about doing it,” he said.

“You okay?”

“I’m great,” he said. “Really. I know Dee would have been telling me to not worry so I didn’t. I don’t...I feel like I can talk about her again, you know?”

“You used to call her your wife a lot. Recently you’ve been saying her name more. I think you really are healing, Jensen.”

“I knew the second you left earlier I messed up. I dropped the kids off at Jared’s and then I wound up at the cemetery. I saw these purple flowers there. It’s kinda a different flower but they were her favorite. I’ve only ever told one other person those were her favorites,” he said. You traced your finger over his pec and rested your palm flat on his chest. “Why’d you put flowers there?”

“Why wouldn’t I Jensen?”

“That’s how I knew I can stop being so scared when it comes to you. Purple fucking flowers. You’re just…”

“I love you too,” you said, giving his whole body a squeeze. He returned it, holding you for a long time, neither one of you saying a word. It wasn’t until you noticed the light starting to change in the room that you both moved. 

“Y/N,” said Jensen when you sat upright. You looked over your shoulder, a smile on his face. “Do you want to stay upstairs with me from now on instead of your room? It’s okay if-”

“I’d love to,” you said. “To be honest, I slept up here the other night.”

“You did?” he asked as you nodded.

“I missed you.”

“Me too,” he said.

“I know three little faces that really missed you too,” you said. He smiled and nodded. “Let’s go get the rascals.”

______

A/N: Read Part 9 here!

#supernatural #spn #jensen ackles au #Jensen x reader #Jensen Ackles #rpf #Jensen series #rpf series #jensen ackles x reader #spn fanfic #Jensen Ackles fanfic #supernatural fanfic

[spamaohno]

i have had an account on this hellsite for a decade now. i have seen the rise and fall of superwholock, hetastuck and rise of the brave tangled dragons. i not only witnessed but participated in the mishapocalypse. i watched dashcon happen in real time. i can remember when tumblr user pizza would apparate to every tumblr post. I remember when this site was obsessed with the onceler, and flower crowns on serial killers. i remember when the reblog button used to be at the top of posts, and when the op of a post would be indented every time someone new would reply. i remember when you could edit other peoples words and the john green cock balls post and taylor swift sharing recipes on her tumblr and how ace attorney fans added objections to everything all the time and how tumblr as a whole wanted to fight two random people on facebook for saying tumblr was boring. at one point i scrolled through “do you love the color of the sky?” posts at least five times a day and it was annoying as fuck. sixpenceee. imagine how is touch the sky. adventure time. gravity falls. fun pizza. HIVliving. steven universe. supernatural fandom adding gifs to every post no matter the context. Harry Potter. crave that mineral. phan. i witnessed the renaissance of this site and ultimate “fall of rome” so to speak, post-porn ban and cringe culture. my worldview was significantly shaped by this site as a teenager, which yes, that’s incredibly bad and toxic and yes, there have been dozens of bad opinions on this site since the beginning of time and yes, there’s no way it was healthy for me (or anyone at the time) to be stuck in a vacuum and consuming so many hot takes and blatantly incorrect “facts”, but at the same time… there was no better place to comfortably be a cringey teen in the 2010s. no, this site was not without bullies and assholes and just shitty people in general, but i think that it was honestly incredibly freeing as a downtrodden, depressed child to have this space where art, writing, and shared interests no matter how obscure were so prevalent, and where i could find comfort just being who i was, liking what i liked and discovering myself without severe judgement. i don’t think that modern teenagers have that kind of space any longer, anywhere, and in spite of all the plethora of bullshit that tumblr has spewed out or created or been a party to throughout the last decade, i am thankful for the time i was able to be me with people who were also being themselves and for the friendships that i created at that time which have prevailed for a decade and hopefully will prevail for ten more.

#2012 tumblr #I’m old #shut

[moonsquaremars]

11th house thoughts

Hi everybody.

I have an 11th house stellium, and I love it. Probably because my venus is in there, der planet of luv, as well as mars, lust et aggression, and mercury, th’ intellect. 

My sun missed it shy of 1° ; had i been born just a few minutes earlier, I would have been an 11th house sun. But I’m a twelfer. Why, might you ask? My mother has an 11th house stellium afterall, so did my ex-boyfriend. Well, if you ask, my father is a twelfth house sun. 

And I’m learning to live with that. 

Just kidding. Anyways, I love my 11th house stellium. If you’re unfamiliar, the eleventh house is ruled by aquarius. Each of the twelve houses in astrology corelate to each of the twelve signs of the zodiac. The planet which governs both this house and sign is the planet of Uranus, which is my favorite one in our solar system :) I did a random generator a guy posted on reddit to find out which planet is dominant in your chart, and when I plugged everything in, I got Uranus. I was actually quite surprised by this, but overjoyed. I love everything uranus represents. Eccentricity, humanitarianism, chaos.

I am a cancer sun, though, and virgo moon. Cancer rules the moon, so wouldn’t that be my dominant planet? Or is it just my chart ruler? I don’t know. But the moon is so fleeting. Kind of chaotic, actually. Since the moon passes each sign every few days, that’s what makes us cancers so moody. We feel the energy of all the signs within a months time. Can you imagine how that feels? constantly knowing what other people are feeling and thinking? Or maybe I’m just imagining it. I am crazy, after all :p

I digress. The 11th house is fabulous. It rules the finer things in life. My ex-boyfriend was a dandy man, took me to fancy restaurants and hotels, the works. I need that sort of thing, I admire and crave it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m very in tune with income inequality and the social issues that plague the world. But I still love dressing up in fancy clothes for a decadent night out. I suppose this is attributed to my stellium, but I’ll take it. A stellium by the way is when you have three or more planets in one house.

It’s kind of odd that my mom has an eleventh house stellium because we grew up quite poor. Nothing about her really screams fancy besides the fact that she adores drinking wine, is beautiful, and we live fancier only if you put us in to comparison with poorer people around us. We did grow up wearing nice clothes though. My mom would buy us second hand designer brand clothes like tommy hilfiger. Maybe that’s not designer, maybe that’s just brand name. I’m from Kentucky, give me a break. But we Kentucky fancy, baby.

Uranus being my dominant and favorite planet, is in my 7th house, the house of libra and relationships. Perhaps someone could pull up my chart {in the tags] and enlighten me on why it might be my dominant planet. I might also add that my draconic moon is in aquarius, which is supposely what your ‘soul’ truly is. I don’t quite believe that, because I think the soul is larger and smaller than the twelve signs of our universe. Or maybe just our solar system. At least of our conscience understanding of things at this time. Astrology is just a bunch of symbols made of our world to organize and communicate ieas n information. It’s not much more than that.

I recall being very internet savvy in middle and high school. My north node and chiron are in my third house, house of gemini and communication. All of my 11th house stellium planets are also in gemini. I see this being accurate because I am rather small in frame, standing at 5 foot 9 and weighing 125 pounds since I was thirteen years old. My mouth gets me in trouble, whether it’s from accidentally offending or just not being able to shut up! I would constantly be editing my myspace profile, using html codes, messing with the layout and how it interacted with my profile picture and song, and anything else I added to it. I loved it, and then that transitioned to my tumblr blog which I did in high school. Hopefully tumblr doesn’t die out, it’s definitely not what it used to be. Later when stumbleupon was something, I would look up things about futurism, humanism, design. I loved reading about the future. It made me so freaking excited. Like what will life be like in 2040? So cool! Or 2600? Then it made me sad once I accounted my age into the picture. I don’t wanna be 40! and that’s so far away! I hate waiting. 

I’ll end this post on something interesting I noticed. My boyfriend of a year had an eleventh house stellium. After we broke up, I had two guys I was interested in. I was actually quite torn, because they were both so amazing, but so different. One was elegant and familiar with astrology and addiction issues and had money. He was like this worldly man with fantastic package hehe helped cure this mundane “what’s the point?” feeling I had about learning languages and stuff. He made me feel like there was in fact a point to all of it. He’s a scorpio just like me mum and we just had great chemistry. But I was already seeing a nother guy, who was this gentle, down the earth, all around manly man’s man. I loved him, but in a different way. He was simple, but the first time I slept over at his house, he picked me up in this kinda old but kinda new like beat up stick shift hyudai sedan. He reminded me of Wario. But he had an amazing package as well. we mostly just slept though ,and when I slept with him, I felt like I was back in bed with my father when I was like five or seven years old. I already know how that sounds, and I know the childish bunch of you or dommage who lack a healthy relationship with your father if y’ar, are going to come for me and say that’s gross or messed up or perverted or weird. It’s not. I don’t want to fuck my father, I never have, and I never will. I really don’t want to open this can of worms because I could go on about people I’ve met who have been sexually assaulted by their fathers or who have an incest fetish and I’m not trying to shame any of those people. But, I felt like I was back in bed with my father like i was when i was a kid while I was laying with him, and that was a really, really, really good feeling. I never forgot it. He had an aries sun, which I used to hate aries. It was my least favorite sign, and probably still is tbh, along with aquarius LOL. Oh and his moon was in taurus which explained everything. My dad is a taurus sun, as are my two sisters, my grandpa, and one of my good friends, Chelsea. My moon is in virgo in the second house, which is the house of taurus.

Well, mr. fancy pants had an 11th house stellium, and my down to earth sweet S had a third house stellium. Finding these things out did nothing to absolve my confusion, only added to the ache of not knowing which to choose. Talk about love triangle though. It did make me realize why I was in this predicament though, and I suppose it worked out because I don’t really talk to either guy anymore. But The seventh and third houses are also air houses, just like the 11th. 

11th house - Aquarius/uranus, 

7th house - libra/venus, 

3rd house - gemini/mercury

That’s all for tonight. I’m ever behind on french homework, so I oughtta go take care of that. I want to write on the twelfth house, since my sun is in there as well as my father’s, and why I don’t appreciate its doom and gloom persona. If each house correlates to a sign, then the twelfth’s would be house of pisces. Pisces is the last sign with a bad stereotype. At least from my perception, it’s one of the best. So humanistic and kind. So why is its house the house of prison and addictions and psych wards and have all this hubbub, this &thatt?

Au revoir! -K  ý ll

#astronotes #11th house #astrology #aquarius #stellium #uranus #eleventh house #astro notes #uranus astrology #11th house stellium #gemini stellium #libra #Mercury in Gemini #gemini #sun in 12th #12th house #sun in cancer #7th house #3rd house

[songbirdstyles]

sparks

summary: you’re a music journalist assigned to covering one of harry styles’ gigs, and he’s absolutely smitten with you. (part one.)

warnings: slight fluff, excessive liberties taken about music journalism; smut in later chapters, angst in later chapters

word count: 8.2k

inspo.: almost famous - cameron crowe; sparks - the who; hello, i love you - the doors

You’d never truly gotten a big assignment before - sure, you’d gotten a few pieces here and there detailing local LA bands that you knew would never live to see more than 100,000 monthly listeners on Spotify, and they mostly ended up buried by your higher-ranking coworker’s higher end stories on the front covers - and, for the most part, you’d honestly been fine with it. You’re fresh out of college, the newest recruit to your company and your colleagues who are sent out to tour with big bands and artists have been here for years, some even decades, and you suppose they deserve the opportunities more than you, don’t they?

You work your way up, your boss had told you the first day you’d started working, following him around like an eager puppy as he showed you the office. Eventually - if I’m impressed with you - you’ll get something big.

It’s enough for you. Small bands playing in hole-in-the-wall clubs and restaurants may not be the exact thing you’d envisioned when you’d set your sights on being a music journalist but it’s worked out well for you so far, hasn’t it? You’ve made friends - even dated the lead singer of an underground rock band who cheated on you hardly two weeks into the relationship - and your portfolio is slowly building, stacked with exposés and detailed recounts of small gigs that you’d watched from backstage. Eventually, you’ll leave this company and move on to something bigger, like Rolling Stone, and your career will take off until you’re practically the face of music journalism.

And, really, those dreams have carried you through college and the first year of your career, putting your all into every article and every piece just so your boss can tug you into his office one day with a rarely-seen grin to finally tell you -

“I want you to write an article on Harry Styles.”

You furrow your eyebrows, shifting in the cushy office seat that your boss has for guests in his office. It’s a facade that you’ve learned to acknowledge, because, no matter how much he makes it look like he appreciates guests in his office, you know he regards you as nothing more than an interloper, even if he’d invited you there to begin with. “Harry Styles?”

“You’ve heard of him, haven’t you?” Mike asks, light shining off his bald head, and your mouth opens and closes a few times uselessly. 

“Of course I have!” You push yourself to sit up straighter in your seat, staring up at your boss with shock written in every feature of your face. You, writing about Harry Styles? God, you nearly want to pinch yourself to see if you’re dreaming. “Write an article about - about what?”

Mike scoffs in that pretentious way that makes you hate ever having to talk to him, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes at him. “He’s coming to do a few shows along the West Coast. You can go to one or two - talk to him a bit, talk to his band - you’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

“With small bands, sure - Tacocat and - and the Mystery Lights -” You swallow thickly, and Mike stares down at you in your seat like he’s unimpressed with your enthusiasm, or lack thereof. And it’s not that you aren’t executed - but, Christ. Going from bands performing in underground clubs to Harry Styles is like going straight from crawling to flying a fucking plane and you’re not sure if any of your experience with the musical locality in LA could prepare you for that. “I mean, that’s huge, Mike.”

“It is huge,” Mike confirms, crossing his thick arms over his chest, leaning against the desk before you as though he’s immune to sitting in his seat behind his desk like a normal boss. “Do you not want to do it? Because Melissa, you know - she’d love to, was going on and on about it last week -”

“No!” Your cheeks flush at the volume your voice raises to, and if you didn’t know better you could swear you see the ghost of a grin on Mike’s face. “I want to, Mike, I really want to - it’s just crazy.” There’s a pregnant pause between the two of you, your boss nodding smugly down at you as you struggle for words, before you ask the question burning the tip of your tongue with its desire to be heard. “But - why me? I’m sure you have people more qualified for it -”

“Easy,” Mike says, cutting you off and you’d be annoyed in any other instance but you’re too desperate to hear his answer. “Look, Harry’s a young guy. Younger than anyone else our people have interviewed - I think he’ll respond more to a young, pretty girl like yourself than someone older than him.”

Well, that makes sense, you suppose. The only coworker even close to you in age is Melissa, and she’s pushing 30 as it is. You’re 23 - graduated college just over a year ago, and by far the newest recruit this company has taken in years - but you had always imagined that was the main reason you wouldn’t get many big articles, and here it’s the main factor in you getting what will surely be the highlight of your portfolio once you apply to Rolling Stone. An interview with Harry Styles - God, they’ll probably foam at the mouth when they see it, and a grin spreads across your face as you think of it.

“Is that a yes?” Mike questions, blonde eyebrows raised high and nearly disappearing into his scalp. 

“Of course,” you respond without another moment of hesitation, and you push yourself to stand, office chair rolling behind you with the force, and it hits the wall behind you with a soft thump. “Yes - of course - of course.”

“Great.” And he crosses to the other side of his desk, pushing aside a few loose papers and folders on his desk, and you clutch your hands in front of your stomach as you watch him, practically bouncing up and down with uncontained joy and fear bubbling inside of you. The last time you’d felt like this was the first time you got a real assignment - more than just ranking songs and discussing new album releases - and you’d been sent to a strip club to cover a gig from an up-and-coming band. Back then, you’d never expected to ever feel more excited over anything in your life, and yet, here you are, eight months later, fighting back the urge to burst into joyful tears. “They come in a week - I’ll send you the address - if you need help with your questions -”

“I’ll ask Francine,” you finish the same advice he gives you every time you’re assigned an article, referring to your oldest coworker - a little old woman who’s been with the company since the 70s. She’s always been more than willing to help you with your assignments but this - you need to do this by yourself. “Thank you so much, Mike, this is - this is great.”

“Don’t let me down,” he says, pointing his finger at you, and you nod furiously. “I’m trusting you on this - it’s a big opportunity.”

“I won’t disappoint you,” you promise, holding up your crossed fingers just to show him how much you mean it, and you know it’s the truth - you’ll make this piece the best damn one this company has ever seen if it’s the last thing you ever do. 

 ~~

 The night begins a bit - rocky, to say the least.

For one, you couldn’t decide what to wear, even after spending nearly a half hour trying on every variation of clothes in your closet and tossing them onto the floor of your studio apartment when they didn’t satisfy your needs. In the past you’d worn to gigs what you’d wear if you were a simple concertgoer, albeit a bit more modestly, but you can’t decide what you would wear to a Harry Styles concert if you got the regular chance to - and you’d never even dreamt that it would happen in the first place -

Well, you peruse your closet intently and land on a pair of patterned flare pants and a long sleeve sweater. It only seems fitting for the chilly weather outside, and you fold a shirt into your bag in case you need to change if it gets hot backstage. You’re not dressed to impress, necessarily - you’re dressed to get a job done, as Mike would always say, but how could you be expected to not attempt to impress Harry Styles? It’s a preposterous idea. You’re sure anyone would understand.

Journalism pass - phone - keys - deodorant - when you’ve checked your bag over three times to ensure you have everything necessary you finally leave, locking your door shut behind you and ordering an Uber to take you to the concert.

You hadn’t anticipated Uber and Lyft being absolutely overloaded with patrons due to the concert just a half hour away and you need to be there by 6:30 at the very latest to ensure you get in and can at least talk to Harry before he goes on - a quarter of your questions are geared towards how he feels pre show and you can’t get pre show questions after the show - that’s barbaric. But the minutes inch closer to 5:30 and your Uber driver is still ten minutes away and your heart beats so fast against your chest you think you might vomit right into the street in front of your building -

You’re in the car by 5:45. It’s not ideal, and you know you’re cutting it close, but hopefully you’ll be there before the soundcheck ends. It’s always an ideal time to take photos, watching the band warm up and check mics, and with a piece like this, you need all the opportunities for pictures you can get.

And traffic is horrible - you suppose that’s also to be expected, and your Uber driver curses in a language you can’t recognize as cars cut him off on the highway and if you were a different person, you’d recommend a shortcut he takes, but he doesn’t look like he wants to hear a single word come from your mouth. He had given you a dirty look when you entered the car, and that’s enough to make you shut up and pray for the entire car ride that you make it on time.

6:27. Mike would piss himself if he knew how close you cut it, and you hop out of the car with a speed you didn’t even know you could muster, pushing past the buzzing crowd standing in front of the main entrance. The hoard of people seems to have a steady heartbeat, pulsing with excitement much like your own, and you can’t help but smile as you make your way around the group, goosebumps cropping up over your skin as your teeth chatter in the coldness. For a moment you fear that the directions to the backstage entrance that Mike had given you were total bullshit - but then you see the door, blocked by a burly security guard that glowers at you as you walk up to him like you’re something sticky beneath his shoe.

“Hi!” you call, breath exploding in a white cloud in front of you in the cool night air. The security guard smells so strongly of booze that you need to try harder than you’d care to admit not to scrunch your nose - you cough softly. “Let me - um - find my pass - I’m with Autoamerican, the magazine?”

Fingers grab onto your journalism pass, deep within your bag, and you tug it out, flashing it to the security guard with a slightly nervous grin. All of the gigs you’d been to before hadn’t even had backstage doors - to get backstage, you just had to climb onto the stage and walk behind the wings - but this is a fucking stadium, not just a measly club, and a big one, at that. In your youth you’re sure you could recall your dad watching a football game that occurred in this very stadium - funny how life turns out, sometimes.

“Autoamerican?” the security guard questions, bringing his face closer to your badge as the wafting smell of alcohol increases, and he raises his eyebrows with a scoff. “Never heard of it.”

“Oh.” you pause, feeling your teeth beginning to chatter in the cool February air. You’re not quite sure what to say - you’d assumed Mike had called to arrange the entire thing, hadn’t he? And this is the time you’re supposed to be here - “well, we’re not as big as Rolling Stone magazine, but - we’ve done interviews with The Cure, The Smiths - even Zeppelin, at one point -”

Your voice trails off into silence. He doesn’t care. He’s looking at you like you’re some innocent teenage girl, trying to bribe your way backstage so you can bombard the artist and not a fully grown woman here on business, goddammit. And you’re not sure what to say - he doesn’t believe you, clearly, and you hadn’t anticipated that even as you listed all the ways tonight could go wrong.

“Look, kid,” he begins, and that really has your blood boiling, eyes narrowing to glare at him. “We get this all the time. I’m a journalist - I’m with the crew - it’s a bunch of bullshit. Now go to the front with your general admission tickets like the rest of them -”

“I have a pass - I’m a journalist!”

“Sure -”

“I can call my boss if you want proof!”

And before you can reach into your bag to search relentlessly for your phone to follow through on the promise like you intend to, the door the man is guarding suddenly swings open, nearly hitting the guard in the ass as it opens out. You take a step back as dim light from inside floods the darkness, and a man steps out of the doorway, his eyes darting between you and the security guard.

“Are you with Autoamerican?” the man questions, raising his finger to point at you as though he could be speaking to anyone else. You nod furiously, and you hold up your journalism pass again just to prove it. “You can come inside, then - c’mon, Steve, she’s got a pass, for God’s sake -”

And you can’t resist flashing the guard a smug smile as he steps to the side to let you inside, rolling his eyes so far back into his head that all you can see is a strip of white.

The man lets you inside and the door shuts behind you, and you nearly knock straight into a second security guard standing by the door inside, as though trying to stop people from going out. And, well - you’ve been backstage at more concerts than you could count but this is certainly bigger, better, bustling with people carrying equipment and makeup artists and more people you couldn’t possibly identify. You’re half inclined to reach into your bag and grab your notebook to jot down exactly what you’re seeing so you can make sure to include it in the article, but you have a distinct feeling you’ll never forget it.

“I’m Jeff,” the man tells you, already setting off through the people, and you’re quick to follow, trying to maintain your pace beside him. After a second of walking in silence you realize he’s waiting for you to say yours - you clear your throat and introduce yourself, and he sends you a smile. “The band just finished their soundcheck, if you’d like to have a word with them before they go on - what’s the article about, anyway?”

Jeff shoulders the two of you through lingering groups of people until you emerge into a small hallway lined with doors, and you can hear bustling noise coming from the one closest to you - holy shit, is that Harry? 

“Um - just about the shows, the tour, how everything’s going. My boss basically told me to do what I want with it, so I’ll have a better idea once I speak to the band.” It’s the loosest instruction you’ve ever been given for a piece - you’d expected a clear cut outline - but perhaps with an artist this big, Mike trusts you to know what to write. “It likely won’t be anything too personal, but I’d love to get a chance to speak with Harry before and after.”

“Sounds great,” and you can tell he’s stressed - you wonder if he’s always anxious before his client’s shows, or if there’s something special about tonight that has him worried - and then he reaches past you, twisting the doorknob closest to you and holding the door open for you to enter before him, and you give him a gracious smile before walking in.

The room isn’t as crowded with people as you’d expected but they’re bustling with energy - a woman and a man, holding a guitar, lean against the wall with each other - two other women sip water bottles, laughing loudly amongst each other - another woman leans above someone, their body hidden from view except for their legs, covered in silk, floral printed pants -

Your breath catches in your throat as Jeff shuts the door behind you both, and the sound of the door clicking shut draws far more attention to yourself than you’d expected - it seems like every pair of eyes lands on you and Jeff, and you’d decided on being a music journalist to keep away from being the center of attention. You’ve always preferred being behind the scenes, a bit, at least until your career progresses until you’re a household name for music journalism, and now -

You feel very much in the scenes, eyes on you as Rhiannon plays in the background.

And then Jeff is tapping you on your shoulder, leading you around the room to the small groups of people lingering - you shake hands with Mitch and Sarah, the couple against the wall, and the rest of his band, and they’re so nice your smile feels like it’s going to break your face in half. You’ll need to interview them at some point - nothing too intense, and you may not even need to, if Harry’s answers are satisfactory enough - and you can already feel yourself building a strange sort of rapport with the band, their kindness rubbing off on you until you practically glide beside Jeff to the woman bent over Mr. Floral Pants, whose identity you’re fairly certain you’ve already deduced.

It doesn’t make it any more surprising when the woman steps aside where she’s carefully applying powder to the man’s face, and then Harry fucking Styles is staring up at her with a smile and an outstretched hand, suit jacket matching the floral pattern of his pants. His curls are carefully slicked back from his face, skin matte with the powder the woman resumes applying to the side of his face that isn’t turned to you, and you swallow your shock before reaching to shake his hand, Rhiannon turning into Hello, I Love You, playing from a source you can’t identify.

“Nice t’meet you,” Harry says when you’ve told him your name and the magazine you work for - Jeff had already mentioned it, but it is customary to repeat it to whomever you may have to interview. “Y’know, I love Autoamerican - told Jeff, s’the only magazine I’d let interview me backstage. Don’t usually allow it.”

“Really?” your stomach flips as Harry stops bouncing his arm, but it takes just another half second for him to untwine his hand from yours - you’re sure it’s because the makeup artist fretting above him is using her thumb to wipe off powder from his nose, but it still makes your heart thump faster against your chest. “I assumed most people haven’t heard of it - it’s nowhere near Rolling Stone.”

“I love it,” he insists, dropping your hand, and he looks so casual, as if this interaction isn’t blowing up your entire life, and you’re brought back to the many moments you’d spent as a teenager fawning over him in his One Direction days - God, this feels like a dream, and you’re half inclined to pinch yourself in case it is. Maybe you’ll wake up in Mike’s office to him giving you another shitty underground LA band to interview. “The interview with Sublime s’great - read it all the time.”

You swallow thickly, grin spreading wider across your face, and before you can open your mouth to tell him about Francine’s go-to story about how Eric Wilson had flirted with her while she interviewed them for the story, Jeff interjects - “Steve hadn’t even heard of it.”

“Steve’s an idiot,” Harry starts, and you giggle - his lips lilt upwards just a bit. “Hope he wasn’t hasslin’ you ‘bout it.”

“Just a little,” you say, hoisting your bag further up your shoulder just as the makeup artist drops the powder back into the apron slung around her waist, and her manicured nails tilt Harry’s head around for a moment before she seemingly deems his makeup satisfactory before leaving, sending you a tight lipped smile as she goes. “I’d love to ask you a few questions before the show - nothing too heavy - and then I’ll observe the concert and how everything goes, ask a few questions after.”

“Sounds great,” Harry responds, lifting his fist with his thumb up and you didn’t think your heartbeat could grow any faster or louder but you suppose today is just proving you wrong time and time again. “D’you need t’record m’answers? S’a bit loud in here.”

The truth is, you’re sure you’ll have this entire experience engraved in your brain for years to come - you’ll remember every word he utters for you until your dying days - but it is more practical to have a recording. You swing your bag off your arm and open it, digging through the jumbled mess of items inside until you find your phone, and you hold it up with a nod. “Yeah - there isn’t anywhere a bit quieter, is there?”

It takes a minute of bustling - Jeff tells you two instructions to go down the hall into another room where you may find more silence - and Harry promises, accent thick and eyes rolling, to be back in twenty minutes or less, if tha’s enough time for you, ma’am, and you try to trick yourself into thinking the burn flushing up your cheeks is due to the heat of the room.

Down the hall is another door that Harry opens for you, letting you walk in first. It’s a small room, clearly meant for storage, and he shuts the door behind the pair of you. There’s - luckily, or perhaps unluckily - just enough room for you two have at least a few feet between you, and he leans against the wall with an air of casual elegance you couldn’t hope to achieve as you scroll through your phone to search for the voice recorder app.

“Hope this s’good enough - is it?” Harry inquires, leaning his head closer to yours, and you nod. “Good - wish there was a nicer spot for you, but -”

“Don’t worry about it,” you interject, smiling up at him, and he grins back, and your stomach churns violently. You almost feel like you could vomit - when he goes on, you’ll go and have a bit to eat at the table set up with foods that Jeff had wheeled you past when you arrived. Eating seems to solve more of your nerves than you’d care to admit, and you feel like you’re nearly 95% nerves right now. Your fingers fiddle with the voice recorder app, adding a title to the recording while entirely too focused on the sounds of Harry’s breathing above you, and you can practically fear his eyes boring into your face before you press record. 

And, for the most part, it does go smoothly. Harry introduces himself with an ease that only comes with years of practice, so much time spent being interviewed that it must feel like as much of a second nature to him as interviewing is to you. He’s charming and charismatic - flirtatious, even - making jokes and adding lines that you make a mental note to be sure to include in your final piece - whatever direction you go - and you can’t say you’re bothered by the way he leans closer to the phone, and thus closer to you, in order for his voice to be heard more on the recording when occasional noise bustles in from outside.

You don’t need to look at the questions you’d spent weeks laboring over - every question you inquire derives directly from his answers like he’s practically feeding them to you, and then you’re interviewing him so naturally, you could nearly fool yourself into thinking it’s an organic conversation between friends. 

What’s his process to prepare for shows? Well, listening to Fleetwood Mac and eating finger foods, of course - he loves mozzarella sticks. Does Fleetwood Mac make you less nervous for shows? No, he doesn’t get too anxious before shows, now that he’s out of the band. He just loves Fleetwood Mac - he could listen to them at any time of the day. What do you think makes your solo career less anxiety-inducing than being in the band? Different fans let him be himself more. There’s less pressure to be someone he isn’t - do you think he could’ve worn a floral printed suit at a One Direction concert?

And, in the end, twenty minutes hardly feels like it, and by the time Harry tilts his head over the screen of your phone to check the time, you could nearly convince yourself that you’d merely spent a minute with the heartthrob, and it pains you to stop the recording.

“How’d I do?” he questions, cheeky smile indenting the dimple in his cheek, and you feel like you need to dip your face in ice once he goes on stage - your face hasn’t felt anything less than piping hot since the first moment he rested eyes on you, and his kind-bordering-on-flirtatious nature only makes your skin heat more under his gaze.

It isn’t as though you’d have it any other way, though.

“Perfect,” and you send him a smile. “I’ll watch the show - probably eat a bit, too, if I’m being honest - and maybe ask you a few questions. How many shows are you doing in LA?”

Harry reaches past you, grabbing the doorknob and opening the door for you once more, and you slip out with a small smile as he follows, face twisted in what’s clearly a show of being in deep thought. “Four. An’ a few more on the West Coast ‘fore we move out - reckon you’ll need t’come t’a few more?”

“Depends.” He looks at you curiously as the two of you make your way back to the room you’d been in before, and when you enter, it’s clearly in a more prominent state of preparation for the show - there’s more bustle and movement between every band member and Jeff, who looks entirely relieved to see you two come in as She’s a Rainbow thumps softly, volume clearly turned down on whatever produces the music. “If I feel like I’ve got enough material from this show, then that’ll be it - I usually just do reviews of specific gigs, and this is a lot broader - so I really don’t know.”

Harry nods, and you feel a flutter in your heart at how intently he seems to be listening to you, like he really cares, and you’re sure it’s a facade - he probably has a million other things on his mind as Jeff descends upon the both of you, whisking him away as he calls goodbye! to you - but still. When was the last time you’d felt listened to? By Mike, or by the security guard outside, or even from your own parents when you try to convince them over and over that you have a plan, that your degree wasn’t a waste of time when you could’ve been a doctor -

Well, Harry’s a gentleman, you decide, sliding your phone into the back pocket of your flares as you reach in your bag for your notepad. You can tell they’re preparing to go on soon and so you descend against the wall, grabbing your pen from deep inside the confines of your bag to scribble the essential notes of what you’ll need - it’ll make it easier when it’s time to write, rather than listening to the entire 20 minute interview again to try and find the important sections to include.

His responses to your question still burn fresh in your mind, and you began scribbling your bullet points on the small notepad in your hands. It’s decently easy to block out the chatter of the room you’re in along with its music, volume turned down further until it’s hardly audible, and it really is a skill you’ve mastered, though you suppose you’ve had to - trying to take notes for articles about gigs occurring in buildings so small that their noise reverberates off of every surface has made you a master in tuning out noise surrounding you.

You are aware, and acutely, at that, when the band starts exiting through the door beside you. They don’t look nervous, returning your encouraging smiles with ones of their own, and you watch them pour out the door with confidence practically radiating off of them. Well, that’s something to mention, isn’t it? Most of the bands you’d interviewed were practically vomiting with nerves -

Harry takes up the rear, fingers running through his slicked back hair, and you can’t tell if it’s a nervous habit or if he’s simply trying to let his curls fall in front of his eyes more. Jeff walks in front of him, giving you a smile as he leaves, and the singer stops beside you.

Your breath just about catches in your throat as you look up at him, and he’s staring down at you with a decidedly ambiguous look in his eyes, and you smile at him. “Good luck out there.”

“You’re gonna come and watch?”

You nod. “Eventually - I’m gonna eat something first, finish my notes. Maybe give myself a tour of the backstage in case I decide to include it.”

“Sounds good t’me,” Harry says, but he doesn’t make a motion to leave, and then his eyes roll down your body and is he fucking checking you out? Because - no - that’s crazy. That would cement into your brain the knowledge that this is a dream, and not reality, because there’s no fucking way Harry Styles is checking you out, eyes roaming from your eyes to your stomach to your - “I like your pants. Where’d you get ‘em?”

Ah. Of course. Fashion icon, he is, inquiring about the pants you’d chosen specifically because they looked like something he may like. “These?” You glance down as though you’d forgotten what pants you’d donned, as though you hadn’t spent hours in front of your closet envisioning what outfit you could wear to impress him. “I think they’re from Zara. Got them a couple years back.”

“They’re pretty.”

“Why, thank you -”

“Harry!”

Jeff’s voice calling from outside the room snaps you both out of your conversation, a slightly embarrassed grin spreading across Harry’s face that you’re sure is mirroring your own. His cheeks are tinged pink and he clears his throat.

“Sorry - gotta go - make sure y’try the mozzarella sticks, ‘kay? They’re good,” Harry tells you, and you grin, drumming the pen clutched between your fingers against the notepad in your hands.

“Will do,” you reply, and then you lift your hand and point to the door, raising your eyebrows with a smile. “Go break a leg - and then be ready to talk about it when you’re done!”

He doesn’t say anything else - just gives you a thumbs up and slips out the door, and you can hear his frenzied apologies to Jeff as their voices fade away, surely preparing to get on stage and sing his heart out and blow the fucking stadium away, but you can hardly focus on it. Because - God, you really don’t want to sound like a narcissist - but he was joking around with you, complimented your pants, and he did technically check you out, even if it was just to see your pants. 

Was he flirting with you?

Surely not. No, that would be absurd. He’s probably just bored - maybe entertaining random people backstage is his way of dealing with his nerves.

That makes a bit more sense.

When you glance back down at your notepad, the page half filled with scribbled bullet points of things you’d sworn to remember, and when you click your pen open to continue your list, you find that you can’t quite think of anything else to write. All you can think about is the mozzarella sticks waiting for you, and then standing in the wings to watch him sing his heart out to a crowd of adoring fans that you, at one point, would have killed to be apart of -

You shove your pen and pad back into your bag with a determined spin of your heels. Food first - contemplation second.

 ~~~

 The show is - needless to say - amazing.

You’d feasted on slightly-cold mozzarella sticks that were, even in their lowered temperatures, immensely good, and clearly garnered all the affection Harry had for them. The food table was nearly completely empty, crew members repeatedly coming up to fill plates with vegetables and snacks, and so you simply gathered the last three sticks of celery once you were done with your sticks before taking a leisurely stroll along the backstage area. Celery firm between your teeth, you pulled out your notepad and your pen once more and jotted notes of what you could possibly include in the article to jog your memory later -

It takes a while, admittedly. You don’t want to leave anything out, and eventually you have two pages filled with notes in your handwriting that would surely be illegible to anyone else who happened upon them - and, sure, your pages are small, but still. Two pages is a lot, and you’re sure most of it won’t even make it into the article but you don’t want to risk forgetting any important information.

A trip to the bathroom - perusing the food table again to pick up the last few carrot sticks - and the show is nearly halfway over, so you decide it may be time to slip into the wings and watch. Take notes, possibly, but mainly just listen and absorb the music and the atmosphere and exactly how the fans react to his every move. That’s what the people want to know, isn’t it? It’s what you would want to know - so you slip past the lingering groups of people into the wings of the stage, where you get a clear view of Harry and his band, singing his heart out to a tune you know to be Kiwi.

It’s ear splitting, truly, in a way that none of the other gigs you’d witnessed had been. But it sounds good - better than good - and he’s as charismatic on stage as he is off,  waggling his eyebrows during the more suggestive lines and undoing the button of his suit jacket, and the latter garners a deafening scream from the adoring fans in the crowd. 

No, you won’t need to take notes, at least not yet. You’ll remember this forever, won’t you? Watching him work the crowd like he was born to do it, like it’s a second nature and you’re sure it is, at this point. It’s all you can do to stand there, watching him, and you’re sure you look no different from the other fans in the crowd, your eyes wide and lips parted in absolute awe of him -

His head turns to the side, briefly, as if he can sense your eyes on him above anyone else’s. In reality you’re sure he’d simply turned his head to flick a sweaty curl out of his face but it’s never a bad thing to dream right? And your gaze locks for just a moment, his eyebrows raising when he sees your face, and heat burns at your cheeks before his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and his right eye shuts in a quick wink before he’s turning back to the crowd as if his attention had never left them.

Shit. You nearly drop your damn carrot. God, he’s a fucking tease, and you’re not even sure he knows it - that this experience will never leave your brain for as long as you walk this Earth, watching him wink as he stared into the depths of your fucking soul, clad in a gorgeous suit with his gorgeous hair and -

Harry truly is a sight to behold, and you’re more than content to watch him forever.

Forever ends up being another half hour or so before you’re made entirely too aware of the fact that you have to pee - not insanely bad, but enough to make you shift uncomfortably from side to side before sighing, turning and making your way further backstage in your search for the bathroom. In your determined tour of the backstage you’d forgotten to search for the restroom, and you wander about for nearly five whole minutes before getting to it -

You do your business. There’s not much more explanation needed.

It’s when your washing your hands, though, water freezing cold against your palms, that you become slightly aware of a myriad of noises occurring outside the restroom. At first you choose not to focus on it, shoving your hands beneath the air dryer to ease your soaking, cold hands, and the noise of violent air assaulting your palms drowns out the scuffling sounds from outside.

When the dryer turns off, and you reach down to wipe your damp hands on your pants, the noises haven’t stopped. And, sure, no one could expect it to be completely silent backstage, but whatever you’re hearing isn’t the normal laughter and chatter and muffled music that you’re used to hearing -

It sounds like someone is fighting, and your hand freezes in its place on the cool metal doorknob. You lean forward, scrunching your nose as you plainly try harder to hear what’s happening -

But, Hell. You have a job to do - you need to get back to the wings to watch the remaining few minutes of the set before Harry leaves and, subsequently, returns for the encore, and you’d intended to write with detail about his closing repetition of Kiwi. So you grab the doorknob, swing the door open and step out, and freeze nearly immediately once you’ve exited.

There is a fight - not as violent as you’d expected - as the security guard from inside scuffles with Steve, who looks positively wasted in a way you’ve come to know all too well, doing gigs in LA. His face shines with a sheen layer of sweat, skin glowing in the artificial light, and his fists move slowly to pummel into the other security guard’s back. It’s, truthfully, a bit pathetic to watch - he isn’t putting up much of a fight against the guard trying to hold him, and your mouth parts with poorly-concealed confusion at the display in front of you.

You’re not sure what to say - or do - or think - standing in the doorway of the bathroom as you watch the poor excuse of a fight, Steve nearly toppling to the ground as the other guard tries to contain him.

“Come on, Steve - don’t be like this -”

Then the other security guard looks up and sees you, and the expression on his face nearly makes you burst into laughter, but you contain it with a bit more difficulty than you’d like to admit. He looks annoyed, like he’s absolutely done with his coworker, and also slightly embarrassed. Clearly, he’d dragged Steve into the hallway containing the bathrooms with the hopes of nobody seeing either of them, and you’ve interrupted his bid for privacy desperately. “Sorry, ma’am,” the guard says, grabbing one of Steve’s flailing fists in his hands. “Don’t mind us - he’s drunk - just trying to contain him.”

You’re doing a damn good job, you want to say, but you bite back the retort with a small nod and a whisper of a smile on your face, walking with your back to the wall past their display in the hopes of Steve not seeing you. He hadn’t been particularly nice to you when you’d first seen him and you can tell he’s in a much more heightened state, now - he’d been drunk when you’d seen him before and you can tell it’s only gotten worse.

Maybe you should’ve told Jeff the guard was drunk?

Well, it’s counterproductive to dwell on the past.

You’re not so lucky, though - you’ve barely made it down five steps down the hallway before Steve lifts his head, pupils blown and skin even stickier looking than before, and he gives you the same disgusted look as though you’re something his dog had left on the grass. “Hey - hey - Jim - do you know who that is?”

And the other security guard - Jim - just rolls his eyes. “No, Steve, I don’t - stop making a fool out of yourself.”

“She works at - at - Eat to the Beat - Parallel Lines - what is it?”

Do you answer him? You don’t quite know. You just swallow thickly, forcing yourself not to don the smile that’s urging its way onto your lips as you hear roaring screams from the crowd that alerts you to the fact that, if Harry isn’t done with his set yet, he’s close, and you need to watch the end. “Autoamerican. Those are all good albums, though.”

“She’s snarky - get off of me, Jim -”

In Steve’s final bid for freedom his legs kick out, and his sneakered foot knocks into your ankle, and it’s certainly not hard by any stretch of the definition but it’s enough to catch you off balance, his toe hooking into the loose fabric around your ankles as he brings his foot back to kick again. One kick did it, though - you tumble to the ground, legs flying out from under you until you land on your ass on the hard floor, your bag slipping off your shoulder, and its contents scatter across the ground.

Fuck. That hurt, more than you’d care to admit, as you brace your elbows behind you to stop your head from knocking into the ground. Your ass hurts and you can see Steve’s leg bracing backwards for another kick, and you push yourself backwards so his foot merely pushes against the air.

You can already see Jim opening his mouth to desperately say sorry when a set of footsteps interrupts his apology - you don’t have to look to your side to see who it is, the smell of expensive cologne wafting before him like an introduction. You practically feel him before you see him.

Your name falls off Harry’s lips entirely too easily, like he’d been looking for you in the overtly small window of space he has before he has to go back on stage - his hair is messy and his skin is sweaty and he bends down next to you with such sentimentality in his eyes - you almost feel like a child again.

“Are y’okay?” Harry questions, and his hand rests on the small of your back and warmth seems to seep through your body from its spawning point, palm moving in circles against your sweater so gently you can tell he’s scared to go much harder. “Wha’ -?”

For his eyes had just landed on the sight in front of you - Jim managed to pull Steve up, the latter clearly coming to his senses at least a little bit, and his eyes narrow at the sight of you on the floor and subsequently widen as he sees Harry next to you.

“Wha’ happened?” And you can hear anger quivering under his voice like boiling water, ready to overflow, and you instinctively reach up to press your hand against his forearm - you do it to your niece all the time when you can tell she’s on the verge of a tantrum and it always works on her - but she is five, and Harry’s twenty years her senior, so, needless to say, the motion doesn’t do much to soothe him. “Fightin’ back here, kickin’ her - you’re s’posed t’be security guards!”

“It’s okay, Harry -”

“S’not okay -”

And then there’s another set of footsteps jogging over to you, and you look up to see Jeff -

“Har, you need to get back out -” but you can see the confusion set into his features as he stands over the scene, eyes flickering to you and Harry on the floor to Jim and Steve, the former having settled the latter into a fairly calm position. The scent of alcohol is strong and you can practically watch as Jeff smells it, his nose crinkling. “Is he drunk?”

“He is drunk, an’ got into a fight wit’ -”

“Okay, okay,” you interrupt, squeezing Harry’s arm again as you push yourself to stand, attempting not to wince at the pain in your ass as your muscles tense. He’s looking at you like you’ve just been hit by a car instead of having a mild scuffle with a security guard, eyes wide and concerned, and you shake your head at him. “Didn’t get into a fight, Harry - he accidentally kicked me. It’s really fine - you need to go back out, anyway.”

“She’s right,” Jeff insists, reaching down to tug Harry up as his eyes bore into the sight in front of you, Steve slowly calming himself down until he’s simply red in the face and reeking of booze. “Come on, Har - you need to get on.”

But Harry’s already bending down again, grabbing your pen and your notebook and your phone (you can see a crack in the screen that most certainly hadn’t been there just a mere ten minutes ago) and you could nearly laugh at the display he’s putting on, shoving your items back into your back, if Jeff’s demeanor wasn’t bordering on murderous as he drags Harry up again. You reach down and grab your bag, now fully stocked again with all of the items that had clattered out, and you give the tussling security guards one final fleeting look before following Jeff and Harry as they make their way down the hall.

“Y’sure you’re okay?” Harry questions, slowing his pace so you can jog beside him, much to Jeff’s lingering annoyance as he brings his fingers up to rub at the space between his eyes. “Y’should know - tha’ doesn’t usually happen -”

“I get it,” you tell him.

“No, really.” You’ve reached the wings of the stage, and Jeff leaves the pair of you alone to descend on to where the band stands, clearly waiting for the cue to go on. Harry runs a hand through his hair, and he looks oddly exasperated and you wish you could get it through his head that it really isn’t a big deal - “Someone will take care of the guards, okay?”

“Don’t fire them,” you insist, even though you’re sure he has no say in it. “Not Jim, at least.”

“Jim -?”

“The sober one.”

“Oh.” He pauses, dropping his hands to his sides. “I can’t make any promises.”

“Just try.”

“Will do.”

There’s another brief second of silence before you nod towards the stage where he’s needed - the few lowly minutes between the end of the show and the encore has come to an end, and you’re sure people are beginning to wonder if he’s not coming back. “Go on, Har. There’s people waiting for you.”

“M’going!” And he isn’t going, just staring at you with his brows furrowed, and you raise your own with a confused stare. “Are y’gonna come t’any more shows?”

You pause, nibbling on your bottom lip as you contemplate your answer. “Well - maybe. If I need more information.” “You should,” he tells you, and you tilt your head to the side. “Look, I don’t want your only impression of m’shows t’be that they’re violent an’ crazy.”

“I don’t think -”

“Jus’ one more? In two days. I’ll send you th’address. I really want you t’come -”

Before you can process the request Jeff has stepped forward, hooking his arm in Harry’s and practically dragging him towards the stage, and you watch him prance back in front of the audience like it’s his God given purpose and perhaps it is. You’ve never quite met anyone like him, you don’t think, and you’d certainly had a perception of what you’d imagined him to be like based on the insane amount of time you’d spent obsessing over his band when you were younger -

Your mouth feels suddenly dry as you watch him begin, and the music seems to reverberate beneath your skin, and suddenly - without having to think about it much at all, really - you know it won’t take much convincing on his part to get you back for a second night.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles series #harry styles drabble #harry styles one shot #im sure im going to regret starting this as a series and not trying to make it one long piece #but honestly?? #im working on another fic right now so i just want the beginnings of this to be out there #i hope u enjoy

[abellalu]

Just a Job: Part 1

Summary: The Avengers have been trying to recruit a former SHIELD Agent who has been working freelance. The Agent finally agrees to work with them, but immediately dislikes the idea of having to work with Bucky Barnes (for now).

Warnings: cursing, annoyed Bucky

Word Count: 1.6k

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: This is just something fun I start planning/writing. I’m not sure how long this series will be, but I have quite a few chapters planned (the next chapters will also be longer) I’m not usually a writer, but hopefully you still enjoy this. Any feedback is totally welcome!

[ Masterlist | AO3 ]

“Steve, you should just tell me the mission and so I can just complete it on my own.” You said as you paced back and forth across Steve’s office. 

This wasn’t the first time you’ve had this conversation with Steve, and you don’t expect it to be the last time. Every few weeks, Steve and the Avengers are planning a mission, Steve asks for your help, and you say no. Though, most of these conversations happen over email. 

“While I do admire your confidence, you know these types of missions are dangerous to do on your own and my job is to keep everyone here safe.” Steve looked directly at you showing that he was not willing to negotiate. 

“Your job is to keep the Avengers safe, not me. I still haven’t agreed to work for all of you and I don’t plan on it.” 

Steve looks directly at you as he starts to speak, “I know what you are capable of. You are incredibly resourceful and intelligent. That’s why I invited you to work with us in the first place, but you can’t always be independent. You can work with a team again, and be surrounded by people who care about you.” 

You laugh to yourself. Steve always loved bringing up the idea of you working with a team again. He valued working with others so much, and yet you could never see the point. You used to work with others, then felt betrayed when you realized it was all a lie. Steve was always someone you could trust though. It's sort of part of his brand, good old Captain America. He always considered you a friend despite the fact that you avoided him most of the time. Maybe you owe him a small favor. 

“How long is the mission?” You ask as you avoid eye contact,

Steve smiles to himself, usually, by now you would have told him you were not interested and to leave you alone unless he has baked goods. 

“The first mission I have for you is only a week long. We will be working mostly remotely for the first few days as we plan, so you can stay here at the compound and work.” 

“Slow down there Cap, I’m only agreeing to help you out with one mission and there is no need for me to stay at the compound. I can easily go back and forth between my apartment and here.” 

"Of course, I promise it will be just this one mission then I won't ask you again." Steve says as his smile grows larger. 

“Alright, I’ll do it.” You immediately reject your decision.

Shortly after you leave the compound, Steve leaves his office to go to the kitchen and finds Bucky and Natasha searching through the cabinets.

Natasha looks up at Steves and smiles, “You seem cheery today, did you find another old man film to watch?” Natasha and Steve both chuckle.

“No, better actually. She finally agreed to join us for a mission.” Steve responds. Natasha seems both surprised and excited, while Bucky continues to search through the cabinets.

“The former SHIELD agent? I still don’t understand why you put so much effort into trying to recruit her in the first place. She clearly isn’t interested.” Bucky gruffs 

“First off Buck, she clearly is at least slightly interested now since she agreed to help us. Second, she is a very skilled agent and tech-savvy. She has found multiple Hydra agents and operations all on her own using technology she developed.” Steve says, looking at his friend while Bucky tries to ignore him. 

Bucky Barnes didn’t know this agent. Back when Steve and Natasha had worked with her, he was still stuck under Hydra’s control and was a puppet for them. He didn’t understand why his friend was so adamant about her skills and getting her to join the Avengers when she clearly likes working alone. Bucky could understand that though. He was still adjusting to being an “Avenger” after decades of being an assassin on his own. 

Natasha laughs to herself,  “She is a good person. We used to joke around a lot together during meetings, always making them less dull. I think you’ll get along with her, Barnes.” 

“I highly doubt it.” Bucky responds unamused.

A few days later, you got up much earlier than you usually did. Before, you were your own boss and created your own schedule. Now you have to get ready for an early morning Avengers meeting. It also didn't help that you would have to walk to the compound since you didn't have a car. While you could have taken Steve’s offer to stay at the compound for a week, you wanted to spend as much time away from the Avengers as possible, and getting up early to walk seemed like a necessary evil.

Eventually, you arrive at the compound early for the mission briefing. All you know about the mission so far is that you will be working mostly with Tony on tech for the mission. You are directed to a conference room that has a large table with only one person sitting there. 

Bucky is sitting at the table with a book in his hands. There is a little crease between his eyebrows and a slump to his shoulders as he stares intently at the book. 

As you enter the room he doesn’t look up his book. Part of you understands that he probably just wants to be left alone with his book, but the other part of you is arguing that now is the best time to introduce yourself. You didn't want your introduction to be too late and Bucky was one of the few Avengers you didn’t personally know.

You walk up to the seat next to him and grab the chair. “Can I sit here?” you ask him, trying to force a smile on your face.

“No.” He responds without looking at you.

“Who sits here usually?” you ask “If it's just Natasha or Clint, I’ll probably just sit here anyway.”

“I don’t like people sitting next to me, Agent.” He says as the tone of his voice gets slightly more annoyed. You haven’t been referred to as Agent for years, but at least now you realize that he knows who you are. 

You look at chairs on either side of him “Oh, so both of these chairs are available, so do you have a good side or-”

“Just leave me the fuck alone” He interrupts you before you can finish your thought.

You stare at Bucky and he never once looks back. You expected Bucky to be more reserved than the others, but you didn't expect him to be so insolent. 

"Fine" eventually, you walk away to the other side of the table and take a seat.

You grab your phone from your bag, trying to stare down at it instead of focusing on the man on the other side of the table. Bucky didn’t even try to fake a nice introduction as you did, he was just irritating. If you knew that you would be working with someone like him, you wouldn’t have agreed to the mission.

Eventually, after what feels like an eternity, but is really only a couple minutes, the rest of the team starts entering the conference room.

Natasha enters the room with Sam Wilson. She gives you a small smile and they both start walking towards you. 

“It’s good to see you again Agent, we are all excited to work with you.” Natasha says. You chuckle at that. Not everyone is excited to work with you apparently. You quickly glance towards Bucky. His lips are pressed together in a straight line, ignoring everyone who walks by him.

“So, how did he finally break you?” You look away from Bucky to see Sam smiling and laughing. You had only met Sam a few times before. Steve occasionally brought him to try to convince you to join them for a mission. 

Sam continues to say, “I mean, if my charming personality wasn’t enough to convince you to help us, I thought there was no hope.” You laugh at him. At least he will be enjoyable to work with. 

“I’m just helping with this one mission, then you guys are leaving me alone. Don’t worry though, your charming personality definitely helped convince me.” You respond sarcastically.

Natasha and Sam laugh as they sit down in the chairs on either side of you. 

Eventually Steve and Tony Stark enter the room together. Steve walks towards Bucky and for the first time Bucky looks up from his book. Steve holds out his hand and Bucky gives him the book. You notice the title of the book, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. Steve puts the book down on a table in the corner of the room and begins his presentation. 

“Thank you everyone for being here." Steve looks directly at you as he speaks. "We have reason to believe there is a Hydra operation here in New York. It seems small, but they are developing technologies for other operations. The mission will take around a week and will include-" 

"Basically we just need to develop a tech system to disarm all of their tech and hack into their security system for all intel we can find." Tony interrupts. 

"Thank you, Tony." Steve responds while rolling his eyes.

"Oh, you are so very welcome Capsicle. I'm always here to help." Tony laughs. "Anyways, the tech team will include myself, Banner, and the world's most stubborn agent." 

Everyone looks at you, including Bucky. Steve starts telling everyone about all of your achievements and skills. Bucky just stares at you and you glare right back. 

You realize that you never want to be back here again.

NEXT PART

Thanks for reading! :) 

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fic #mcu fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky flirting #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #bucky and alpine #winter solider fanfiction #winter solider #bucky barnes #bucky #mcu #marvel #bucky barnes imagine #marvel imagine #Just a Job fic #enemies to lovers #enemies to friends to lovers

[hispipsqueak]

Vulnerable

Jujutsu Kaisen: Itadori Yuji x Dom F!Reader NSFW

Summary: Honestly, just some sexy times with Itadori Yuji

A/N: So, I know this is a new adventure, a new fandom. But I finally caught up on the anime and just started the manga and I have serious JJK brainrot. Though I am a HARDCORE Gojou simp, Yuji has a VERY special place in my heart. So I really wanted to write something special for the sweet best boy. Also, this is my first time writing dom reader and I am feeling the NERVES. Hopefully I didn’t suck too much! Thanks as always to my beta reader, @usagiyamasss​ who writes incredible JJK smut and who you should definitely follow. 

As always, likes and reblogs are MIGHTY appreciated! <3 Pip

TW: overstimulation, dom reader/sub Yuji, light bondage, established safe word, oral sex both f/m receiving, face sitting. 

Yuji Itadori was one of the toughest people in the world. He had faced off the toughest of cursed spirits and was known for his strength and his ability to get himself out of any difficult situation. He was one of the most promising jujutsu sorcerers anyone had seen in decades and was a vessel for one of the most cursed spirits imaginable. To put it plainly, he was not someone to be messed with.

However, like everyone, he did have a weakness.

You.

Which is why he lay in front of you, clad in only his boxers and shiny black rope binding his hands to the headboard.

You grinned at the delicious sight of your boyfriend, so pretty and vulnerable.

“Don’t just stare at me, Y/N! It’s embarrassing!” His face flushed. He made a move to cover himself, though it was clearly impossible.

“I’m just admiring you.” You approached the bed, running a finger down his chiseled chest. You traced the scars that ran across it, each one telling a story of another battle. His body tensed as you touch the marred skin. You met his eyes and placed a soft kiss on the largest scar, directly over his heart.

“Beautiful.”

Yuji could feel himself heat up. He never thought of himself as anything really, just...Yuji. But when you chose him, loved him, he was on cloud nine.

“I want to make you feel good baby. Will you let me make you feel good?” You pressed your lips to the shell of his ear, whispering softly.

Yuji nodded and let out the softest whimper, contrasting heavily with his muscular appearance. You dug your teeth into the soft skin of his neck, sucking a dark mark into the pale flesh.

You continued to kiss his neck as you pulled your legs over, straddling his waist. Yuji closed his eyes, wanting desperately to pull you down on him but helpless against the snug ropes binding him. 

You could feel his erection prodding at your ass, straining through his boxers.

“Oh baby, are you enjoying this?” You chuckled, feeling it twitch against you as if it had a mind of its own. 

“Please, need you so bad. Please, ride me. Wanna feel you.” He begged, tugging against his restraints. You rolled your hips, grinding against his lower abdomen and laughed.

“Already begging and I haven’t even teased you properly yet? Let me have some fun with you first, baby.” 

You pulled off your shirt, letting your breasts fall freely as you tossed the clothes to the floor. Yuji’s mouth watered at the sight of you and his cock got impossibly harder. He lifted his head to attempt to reach your chest and you pulled away, giggling.

“Ah ah, who’s in charge here baby? Don’t you want me to make you feel good? Don’t I know what’s best for you?” You covered your chest with your arm as your other hand ruffled his hair. You slid your fingers down his face, tugging gently on his bottom lip with your thumb.

Immediately he opened his mouth, pulling your thumb in and swirling his tongue around it. Any bit of you that you were offering to him, he would take and be grateful for. His hips jerked upwards, his cock begging to be touched. 

You pulled your thumb away, a string of saliva connecting it to his lips. You placed it in your mouth, tasting him, while looking into his caramel-colored eyes. 

“Such a good boy.” You smiled, running your hands down his cheeks. “I wanna spoil you, baby.”

He bit back a groan. His erection was so hard it pained him. He needed to feel you on him, needed to be inside you. Needed all of you.

You moved forward, toward his upper chest. He could feel your arousal leaving a thin trail on his abs. He groaned, wanting to taste you, bury his face between your thighs and punish you for teasing him like this.

“Need to taste you! Please, ride my face.” He whined, a pleading look in his eye. You pressed a kiss against his soft lips.

“Of course baby. If you make me feel good, I’ll make sure I make you feel even better.” You kissed him again, this time deeper. He let soft moans out in your mouth, his tongue exploring yours. You pulled away and looked down at him with a devilish smirk, before adjusting yourself so you were right above his waiting mouth. He raised his head again and you could feel his hot breath on your dripping cunt.

Slowly, you lowered yourself and Yuji was like a man starved. His tongue flattened, pushing itself against you and lapping up every bit of your arousal. You squeezed your breasts, tugging at your sensitive buds as he devoured you.

Without his hands to push and pull you in the directions he wanted, he was sloppily licking at sucking at your pussy. Your juices mixed with his saliva coated his face and dripped down his neck and still Yuji continued, pushing his tongue into your folds to capture every bit of you.

You grinded on his face, your clit brushing against the tip of his nose. 

“Fuck baby, you’re making me feel so good. Such a good boy for me.” You moaned out. The praise pushed Yuji to bury himself into you more, using his tongue to fuck your tight hole. The bed creaked as he struggled against the ropes, wanting to grip your thighs and force his tongue deeper inside you. You could feel your orgasm approaching quickly. 

Apparently, Yuji knew your body just as well and began letting soft hums into your pussy. The vibrations mixed with his pure desire drove you close to your breaking point. You grinded on his mouth faster, humping his face, desperate to get off.

“Fuck, fuck baby. Making me feel so fucking good. Fuck, yes, YES!” You wailed out, as you exploded on his tongue. Your eyes rolled back as you let your orgasm take over you. Yuji slurped at your cunt, pulling every drop of you into his mouth. You gently pushed him down, trembling with sensitivity and you could see his face was wet with your arousal. 

He licked his lips, your taste enveloping his senses. You looked at his cock, and the large dark spot on his boxers right over the tip.

“Now it’s time to let me make you feel good, baby boy.”

You crawled between his legs, pulling his boxers down. His cock was thick and rosy, with a purple-y red tip, covered in precum. The two veins that ran across it were begging to be traced by your tongue and you grinned before pulling all of him into your mouth. 

He let out a sinful groan and you continued to bob up and down on his cock. His hips bucked against you, pushing his cock deeper into your throat. You gagged on him, and the clenching of your throat against his tip almost sent him over the edge. 

“Fuck Y/N, can’t hold out much longer! So good, so good to me.” He grunted, attempting to fuck your face with only his hips. You swirled your tongue over the tip and pulled yourself off of him.

“If you’re going to cum, it’s going to be inside me baby.” You giggled before lowering yourself onto him.

His whole body was on fire as you began to ride his cock. You rolled your hips and he felt himself pressed up against your soft walls. You fucked yourself on him, using his body for your pleasure, and it was so fucking hot. Yuji could barely contain his release any longer.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum!” He threw his head back as he shot hot ropes of cum inside you, painting your insides white. He thought you would pull off of him immediately and yet you still continued to bounce on his cock.

“Fuck baby...s’ sensitive!” He whimpered, and it only spurred you on more. You tugged at his rose-colored hair, and slammed on his cock faster.

“C’mon baby, I know you have one more for me. Don’t you baby? Can you give me one more? You know it’ll feel so good.” You begged, playfully pouting as you rocked on his thick member.

His eyes were glassy and tears spilled down his cheeks as he moaned in that delicious voice.

“S’ too much! Can’t...please!” Yuji babbled, his voice trembling, strands of pink hair clinging to his sweat soaked forehead. His arms ached from pulling against the ropes and he felt like he was on the verge of blacking out from the sensitivity. But it felt so fucking good, he couldn’t even dream of using his safe word.

“Almost there baby, almost there.” You muttered, chasing your high, speeding up as you felt your pussy clench around him. “Cum with me!”

That was enough to send him, and you, over the edge. He shouted and you felt him throb inside you as you gushed around his cock. The two of you were covered in sweat, cum, spit, and tears and you immediately undid the knots around his wrist, rubbing the red marks on them.

You pulled him so his head rested on your chest, gently running your fingers through his hair.

“You did so good, Yuji. Such a good boy.”

He let out soft hums, his body exhausted but feeling so loved and cared for. He nuzzled into you and pressed a kiss to your soft skin.

“Love you s’ much.” he muttered, his voice heavy with drowsiness. You held him, whispering soft praises to him as he fell asleep in your arms.

#jujutsu kaisen smut #itadori yuji #yuji x reader #itadori smut #itadori x read #jjk smut #jjk #yuji smut