#~my brian has just been shutting down

[feraecor]

also i am super sorry for just spamming these but this is literally what my brain is fixating on rn and I can't help but ride the wave.

writing has also been a bit hard for me the last two weeks so i'm tyring to find something to help ease me back into the mindset.

[sceletaflores]

where there’s sparks, there’s fire!

pairing: patrick zweig x fem!reader

summary: you can’t tell if patrick hates you as much as you hate him. every time you see him he’s constantly talking to you, touching you, trailing behind you. but he’s only doing all that to piss you off. you think back to tashi telling you it’s obvious that he wants to fuck you. you don’t see it. patrick wants to fuck everyone, you’re not special.

—or: patrick zweig is a slut. you can't stand him.

word count: 4.6k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y’all!), public sex (doing it in a coat closet lmao), more hate sex, swearing, fighting as foreplay, light choking, light hair pulling, degradation, even more hints of mean!reader cause i really do live for that shit, tashi and reader are cute besties always, porn with a little plot, no use of y/n.

author’s note: i originally wanted to post a tashi fic next but i realized i don't have any like actual full on plot filled patrick works lmao i felt bad neglecting him and my patrick girlies so yeah. once again had literally so much fun writing this, like i hardcore love this niche!!! i ride so hard for it!!! the tashi fic i'm working on also falls into this category lols and yes this is fourth of july themed and it's late shut up i cannot write fast for the life of me...anyway! to the anons who requested something like this, hope you love it! okay bye mwah xoxo.

Patrick Zweig is a huge slut.

Everyone knows that. He doesn't even go to Stanford but he's still somehow managed to sleep with a third of the girls on campus, maybe even more than a few guys too if the rumors going around are true.

You hate him. Hate isn't even a strong enough word. You loathe him. You despise him. You detest him. Pick any other fancy synonym, the point still stands. You just really fucking hate him.

It blows your mind that someone as sweet and angelic as Art would be best friends with someone like him. Someone who's so obnoxious, so arrogant, so crass. Art’s the guy that goes out of his way to protect you from the gross frat bros at parties, only to bring his very own as a plus one.

Sigma Nu throws a rager every year on the fourth, extending invites to those who are still in Stanford for the summer. The women’s tennis team is always invited, and Tashi always ends up convincing you to go. Well, she’s less convincing than she is more forcing you, but it’s basically the same thing to her anyway. She did your makeup and wrestled you into a Hollister dress, vowing to get you laid as she straightened your hair.

Tashi’s almost more invested in your sex life than you are, constantly hand-picking guys on campus for your consideration. She actually offered up Patrick once when you told her you wouldn’t fuck any of the guys on campus at all. The two of you were practicing, she suggested it as casual as ever while returning your serve. You were so shocked you stopped in your tracks, letting the ball fly right past you. She assured you she wouldn’t mind if you did, that what the two of them had was quote “Nothing serious, he’s just a really good fuck.” and that you should “Totally do it. He definitely wants to fuck you, I can tell.” 

You just brushed her off, ignored the way she smirked knowingly at you over the net. Your cheeks burned as you served again, you wrote it off as annoyance. As if you would ever let Patrick Zweig fuck you.

You lost Tashi when she took off to the bathroom, texting you that she’d be a while thanks to a long line outside the door. You were leaning against a wall nursing a half-empty cup of jungle juice when he came up to you. You can’t remember his name, you think it starts with a B. Something like Brandon? Or maybe Brian? One or the other.

He’s Sigma Nu’s secretary, you sit three seats down from him in your economics lecture. Tashi says he has a crush on you, and he’s nice for a frat guy but he’s definitely not your type. He’s been droning on about his upcoming trip to his family's summer house in Cabo for almost ten minutes. You try your best to seem interested, humming and nodding every couple seconds. You’re in the middle of tuning him out when a loud, familiar voice calls out your name. 

“There you are!” Patrick Zweig shouts from a few feet away, ugly American flag patterned flip flops smacking against the ground as he makes his way over to you. He’s wearing a bright red button down and white cargo shorts you scrunch your nose up at. He’s tanner than the last time you saw him, legs long and even more toned. “I’ve been looking everywhere for that pretty face.” He coos sweetly, his hand that isn't holding a bottle of Bud Light comes up to pinch your cheek.

You scoff, smacking his hand off your face. “You found me, so you can go bother someone else now,” you say, rubbing your cheek lightly. “Bye.” You press, waving your hand dismissively when he makes no move to walk away.

Patrick grins, unfazed by your reaction, he steps in even closer. “Yeah, I missed you too,” he says breezily, his breath smells like cheap beer and camel blues. He’s just as tall as you remember. He has tacky blue shutter shades resting on the top of his head. His eyes rake over your body shamelessly, lingering on the low dip of your neckline. “Cute dress.” 

You ignore him, rolling your eyes before turning your attention back towards Brandon/Brian. He’s silent now, eyes flicking between you and Patrick skeptically. “Are you like, together, or something?” 

You laugh loudly, quickly shaking your head ‘No’. Patrick beats you to speaking though, “God no, man.” he says through a laugh, dark curls bouncing as he shakes his head. “I came over here to warn you.” He continues, voice and expression going overly serious like he’s not talking out of his ass.

Brandon/Brian’s brows furrow, clearly confused. “Warn me?” he asks, head tilting to the left slightly. His puka shell necklace makes a small clicking sound as he moves. 

Patrick nods his head gravely, clapping his free hand down on Brandon/Brian's shoulder a little too roughly to be considered friendly, shaking him back and forth like a rag doll. “Yeah, best of luck trying to get inside that snatch, man.” he says earnestly, jerking his head in your direction. “Cause’ she’s really fucking picky–”

You whip your head in his direction to cut him off, grimacing in disgust. “You would say snatch, you sick fuck.” you snap, red solo cup crunching quietly in your hand. Patrick just laughs, dropping his hand from Brandon/Brian’s shoulder. Anger stews inside you the longer he looks at you with that stupid shit-eating smirk on his face. 

You can’t tell if Patrick hates you as much as you hate him. Every time you see him he’s constantly talking to you, touching you, trailing behind you. But he’s only doing all that to piss you off. You think back to Tashi telling you it’s obvious that he wants to fuck you. You don’t see it.

Patrick wants to fuck everyone, you’re not special. Sure, he may feel the constant need to be a horn-dog when he’s around you. That doesn’t mean anything. Patrick’s just gross, constantly making crude comments or lame innuendos. What Tashi fails to see is him making sex jokes around you is just another way he can piss you off. It’s not an open invitation into those god-awful shorts. 

Patrick takes a small step back, big hands raising in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Put the claws away,” You try to ignore the way him saying your name in that goddamn infuriating condescending tone makes your cheeks start heating up. Patrick leans his shoulder on the wall next to you, looking down at you with a small grin on his face. “I actually wanted to congratulate you on cracking the top twenty.” He takes a long sip of his beer, head lolling to the side lazily as he swallows. “Lucky number 14.”

You’re not too proud to admit that Patrick is kind of hot, especially in this lighting. He’s objectively a hot guy, and he knows it. All tall and firm looking even in his horrendous outfit. But he’s kind of cute too, in an ass-holey way. His hair's a mess of soft-looking black curls and his ears stick out from his head sort of endearingly. He’s close enough that you can see he’s got a little brown in his eyes, and long lashes. There’s a handful of freckles sprinkled over the bridge of his nose. 

His big, strong nose that looks like it could work wonders between your legs. Or at least that’s what you’ve heard from Jen in your chem lab. Maybe this jungle juice is stronger than you thought.

Patrick's smirk widens, wolfish and dirty like he can see what you’re thinking. “That’s pretty impressive.” he continues, his tone a mix of genuine admiration and teasing. "Especially for someone who's always so...busy." He lets the last word hang in the air, a clear innuendo that makes your blood boil all over again.

"Busy training," you snap back, not willing to let him get under your skin any more than he already has. "Some of us have actual work ethic, Patrick. We put in the hours on the court instead of fucking anything that breathes, you know? So we don’t look like idiots that get their ass handed to them on tour by nobody scrubs."

You can feel the heat start to simmer in your stomach, anger and frustration bubbling beneath the surface as Patrick's presence continues to grate on your nerves. The tension between you is thick, amplified by the chaotic energy of the party swirling around you. You see Brandon/Brian take a long, awkward sip of his beer as he steps away, turning on his heel to quickly disappear into the sea of bodies crowding the living room. You roll your eyes internally, pussy.

Patrick grins, not deterred in the slightest. “You’ve been keeping up with my matches?” His voice is low and pleased sounding, shiny green eyes slowly getting swallowed by the black of his pupils. 

You pause, owlishly blinking up at him in silence. You’ve been caught. Shit.

You can feel the immediate warmth of embarrassment burning hot on your cheeks as you cast your gaze to the floor. “Only when I need to cheer myself up, a losing streak that high is actually laughable.” You mutter to the floor, lightly swirling your drink in your cup. 

Patrick laughs loudly, throwing his head back in amusement. “Still thinking about me though.” he says matter-of-factly, a lazy grin taking over his face.

His audacity sends another wave of anger and embarrassment through you, your grip tightens around your cup. "Only because you make such a spectacle of yourself," you retort sharply. "It's hard not to notice when you're crashing and burning so publicly."

Patrick's grin doesn't falter. If anything, it widens. "I'll take what I can get from you," he says, his tone a blend of amusement and something else that you can't place. "But seriously, congratulations. You deserve it."

His unexpected sincerity throws you off, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. It's rare to see Patrick in a light that isn’t coated in sarcasm or sleaze. You catch a glimpse of something genuine in his expression, something that almost resembles respect, and it confuses you.

It confuses you, and it makes something warm start to burn in your stomach. You can’t afford to feel any warm, fuzzy feelings around a guy like Patrick, not if you don’t want to get majorly fucked over the second he gets bored of you. 

You don’t know how to react so you do what makes sense, you lash out.

“God, will you just fuck off and leave me alone Patrick,” you say, tone over-dramatic and long-suffering as you tip your head up to the ceiling in annoyance. “I’m trying to have fun.” A lie. The party kind of sucked compared to last years. You were planning on talking Tashi into leaving when she came back, but he didn’t need to know that.

Patrick’s cool exterior finally cracks, letting out a quiet huff of disbelief as a frown starts tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Jesus Christ, what the hell is your fucking problem? I’m being sincere.” The playful light in his eyes is gone, replaced by something darker.

You let out a loud laugh, shaking your head in amusement. “Maybe I’d believe that if you weren’t such an ass. I know you too well, Patrick.” You say, tone mean and condescending. You know he’s right, on some level, but that doesn’t stop you. 

Patrick is silent for a beat, eyes boring into yours with an intensity that makes you want to start squirming. He lets out a quiet, bitter laugh, bringing his beer up to his lips to take a long sip. You watch the way his throat moves as he swallows, the way his lips look wrapped around the neck of the bottle. You feel a familiar heat start to pool between your legs, thighs clenching involuntarily as your mind envisions something else his slick, pink lips would look good wrapped around. 

He drops the bottle to his side, finally breaking the silence. “You know, now I do believe you.” he says casually, swiping his tongue over his lips lazily. “You must really not be getting any dick acting like this much of an uptight bitch.”

You reel back in shock, his words hitting you like a punch in the gut. The wave of fury that sweeps through you is almost tangible, your vision narrowing to a tunnel that begins and ends with Patrick’s infuriatingly smug face. “What did you just say?” you ask completely taken aback, voice low and rough. Your hand twitches at your side with the need to throw your drink in his face, anger and embarrassment lapping white hot flames in your stomach. 

Patrick just scoffs, heated gaze not breaking from your own. “You heard me.” He says, jaw set stubbornly. “You need like, emergency dick, or something to chill the fuck out for once.” 

You feel your heart rate spike, your free hand clenching into a tight wrist by your side. “You’re a fucking pig.” your voice shakes with anger, you feel sweaty and hot all over. The heat swirling between your legs is persistent.

Patrick laughs, a loud and infuriating sound. “Come on, we both know you’re fucking begging for someone to give you what you need.” He says like it’s obvious, you clench your fist a little tighter. He takes a step closer, voice dropping down to a whisper meant just for you. “I can help you with that. I can fuck all that bratty shit right out of yo–”

You’re reacting before you can stop yourself, hand flying up to slap him hard across the face. The loud crack pierces through the room, loud enough that a few eyes turn in your direction. Patrick's head snaps to the side, the shades resting on the top of his head fly off. 

Your heart stops, hands shaking with the realization of what you just did. You expect Patrick to flip out, start shouting and threatening to sue you or whatever else it is that rich people do. Time seems to slow down as he turns his head, and when he looks back at you, there's no trace of anger in his eyes. Instead, they're dark with something else entirely— something that makes your stomach flip.

He licks his lips, a slow, deliberate motion, and then he laughs, a low, throaty sound that sends shivers down your spine. A clear hand print grows steadily, red and angry on his cheek. "Fuck." he breathes, his hazy eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat. 

You’re stuck staring at each other for what feels like hours, the music and chatter from the party reduced down to a low hum as you’re caught under Patrick’s heavy gaze.

He drops his beer bottle on the floor carelessly, hand shooting out to grab your wrist tightly and drag you away from the living room. Your cup falls from your grip, splashing down onto the hardwood in a red sticky mess. You fall into step behind him, letting him guide you into the hallway outside the living room before he lurches to a stop in front of a closed door, ripping it open and shoving you inside. Patrick follows quickly, closing the door behind him and bathing the coat closet in darkness. 

It’s a tiny closet, you’re pressed up against too many coats fighting for space on the tiny rack, kicking loose shoes around as you try to find your footing. “Patrick, I–” You start, but you're cut off by a strong hand gripping your forearm and whipping you around. Your back hits the door with a dull thud, you don’t have any time to react before his lips are on yours.

The kiss is the opposite of gentle, Patrick’s lips are almost violent as they move with yours. Your hands tangle in his soft hair, kissing back just as roughly. He hisses into your mouth as you twist the strands in your grip meanly, pressing you into the door harder. His tongue forces its way past your parted lips, claiming your mouth fiercely. He tastes like beer, his fingertips are rough and calloused on your skin, pulling you closer as if he wants to meld into you.

“If you don’t want this, say the word and I’ll stop right now.” He says against your lips, breathless and rumbly. His hands squeeze your hips reassuringly, his own version of sincerity softening the moment.

Yeah fucking right.

“Zweig,” you say slowly, yanking his hair roughly. “If you don’t shut up and fuck me in the next ten seconds, I’ll kill you.”

Patrick grins wildly, surging forward to connect your lips again. Your hands find the buttons of his shirt as the two of you kiss, working them open one by one until you get too frustrated and rip the two half-open sides apart. Buttons clatter onto the floor of the closet, Patrick groans into your mouth, breaking the kiss with a huff. “I liked that shirt, dick. You owe me twenty bucks.”

You’re not listening, eyes trained on the bare skin of his chest as everything seems to slow down for a second. Of course, you’ve seen Patrick shirtless before, when he’s on the court and it’s above ninety or when he’s taking up space in Art’s dorm. This feels different, a completely new situation where it’s actually okay for you to stare at the expanse of his torso. 

You can’t help reaching out to touch him again— running your greedy hands down his chest, his abs, the sharp ‘v’ cut of his hips that makes its way into the waistband of his shorts. Your manicured nails scratch through the dark hair of his happy trail, you can see the muscles in his stomach jump.

“Fuck,” you whisper breathlessly and immediately regret it. He was already insufferable— all you fucking needed was for him to know how you felt right now. How the sight of his barely undressed body is making your pussy soak through your panties.

Patrick doesn’t even gloat, just uses his tight grip on your hips to flip you so you’re pressing onto the door harshly. He impatiently yanks the skirt of your dress up, wasting no time in hooking a finger on the lace of your panties and moving the fabric to the side for easier access.

You hear him pop the button of his shorts open, his zipper following close behind. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.” He says, sliding the thick tip of his cock through your slick lips, brushing himself against your entrance teasingly. “I’m gonna make you think twice about bitching me out ever again.” He seals his promise by grabbing your hair and yanking, causing a surprised whine to fall from your lips. His voice is so patronizing, but you aren’t getting mad like you should be. You’re just getting wetter, getting desperate with the need for him to get inside you right fucking now.

You grit your teeth in frustration, exhaling sharply through your nose. “I hate you.” You hiss, grinding back against his hard cock. You gasp raggedly as he starts to sink himself inside you, not stopping until his hips are flush against your ass. “Shit!” Your hands grip the door so hard you’re scared one of your nails will break. The stretch of him burns in the best way possible. You’d never say it out loud, not wanting to inflate his ego anymore than you probably already have, but he’s definitely the biggest cock you’ve taken. Almost porn-star big.

“I know.” He replies easily, hiking your thigh up with his hand as his hips start to pound mercilessly into the meat of your ass, not even giving you time to get used to the thick stretch of him. The loud smack of skin on skin fills the tiny closet easily, you hope to God the amount of clothes shoved in here somehow muffles the sound. The rough denim of his shorts scratches against your raw skin, adding to the sting of his hips.

Patrick was pounding into you in a way that makes you feel every inch of him. His cock felt impossibly big, filling you up like he was carving a place for himself inside of you. The sting in your pussy at the stretch of him is mind-numbing, you think you’d collapse from how hard your thighs were shaking if he wasn’t practically holding you up.

His big hand grips the sensitive skin of your inner thigh hard enough that it’ll probably be bruised by tomorrow. You distantly hope he’s high up enough that your tennis skirt will cover it, because if not it’ll be a hard thing to talk your way out of.

You throw your head back, a strained moan erupting from your lips. Your nails scratch at the paint on the door's edges, raking small lines down the wall. The loud squelch of your pussy’s overflowing wetness every time he sinks back inside you would be embarrassing if you had the mental capacity to care.

“Fuck yeah, keep making those slutty sounds, baby. Want the whole fucking party to hear how good I’m making you feel on this cock,” he mutters, hiking your leg up higher so he can pound into you deeper.

He drops your thigh, sliding his hand up your body and around your throat. You whine loudly, pushing back into his thrusts harder. Guys have tried the choking thing in the past, but Patrick’s hand is the only one that’s felt right. His long fingers curling around your throat like they belong there.

“Shit, fuck- don’t stop.” you mewl, lips parted in ecstasy. His hand squeezes a little tighter, not enough to cut off your breathing, just enough to get your eyes rolling back into your head as your pussy weeps around the thick length of his cock.

“That’s it, taking my fucking cock like you were made for it,” Patrick grates through a groan, gripping your hips and pulling out from your tight hole to spit on where his cock bumps up against your entrance before plunging back in.  You jolt at the extra wetness, whining at how dirty it is. “So fucking tight— does it hurt, baby?” he asks in a barely breathless voice, laughter edging his tone. “Is my fat cock hurting your tight little pussy?”

“God– shit, yes!” you sob loudly, cheek rubbing against the wood of the door as you nod your head frantically. “Hurts so fucking good.” You stop caring about inflating his ego, letting moans fall freely from your lips as you get closer to the edge.

“Fuck yeah, I’m gonna come,” he grunts, his rhythm growing sloppy and erratic as his muscles tense. He wraps your hair in his other hand, pulling hard enough to make your neck crane back awkwardly. He leans forward, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “I can feel you, fucking clenching up on me so tight,” he whispers, still pounding into you roughly. “I know you’re close. Do it. Come all over my cock like a slut.”

Patrick's hand tightens around your throat as he talks, cutting off your air for just a second. “Patrick!” Your voice sounds weak and strained, your hand coming up to wrap around his wrist desperately.

He pulls out abruptly, dropping your hair from his fist to frantically jerk his cock, burying his face in your neck. You can hear the lewd shlick shlick shlick of your wetness help his hand glide over the skin of his cock quickly. Patrick lets out a loud growl before you feel the sharp bite of his teeth sinking in where your shoulder meets your neck, muffling a loud groan of your name as he sprays hot come over the skin of your lower back and the swell of your ass. 

The feeling of Patrick’s hand wrapped around your throat as his come paints your skin has you catapulting over the edge. Eyes rolling back in your head as your convulsing pussy gushes wet over his spent cock. 

You drag in greedy lungfuls of air, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. “You came first.” You say breathlessly, voice scratchy and hushed. Patrick chuckles against your skin, swatting the tender flesh of your ass lightly. 

“Shut the fuck up.” He mutters half-heartedly, nuzzling his nose in your neck in a way that seems far too intimate for what the two of you just did. You don’t say anything.

Patrick eventually peels himself off your back, but the warmth of his body stays wrapped around you as he starts to gently wipe your skin clean. You’re ready to scold him for using some poor guy's coat as a come-rag, but when you turn your head to glare at him he’s using the inside of his own shirt. You wrinkle your nose, but a tiny smile fights its way onto your lips. So gross, you think with a sort of reluctant fondness.

He leans over to fix your panties back over your puffy, abused pussy. Your thighs continue to shake weakly as you try to stand on your own, still unsteady without Patrick holding you up. He gives you a sweet kiss on the back of your shoulder, smacking his lips loudly. You huff out a tiny laugh, pushing away from the door to face him.

You watch him as he languidly gets re-dressed. He looks well-fucked, his hair and clothes are mess, his face is flushed and sweaty. Your eyes trail down to where he’s buttoning up his atrocious shorts. 

The fabric around the crotch is darkened with your release, wetness soaking the denim around the zipper and front pockets. You gawk at it, a mix of terror and excitement swirling through your stomach. “You can’t go back out like that.” you say to his shorts, shame burning your cheeks. 

Patrick follows your gaze down to his crotch. A pleased smirk plays on his lips when he looks back at you. “I’ll text you later.” Is all he says, zipping his fly and turning towards the door. 

“You don’t have my number.” You say, tugging the skirt of your dress down over your hips. You can slowly feel the horny fog leave your brain, leaving you clear-minded and a little panicked.

He cracks the door open, but before walking out of the closet he looks back at you over his shoulder. “Art’ll give me your number. “ He says casually with a small shrug of his shoulder. You suddenly feel sick, wondering how many other people have heard that line before getting completely ghosted. 

Patrick must see the negative thoughts running through your mind play out on your face. He gives you an actual smile, one that has his eyes crinkling up the tiniest bit at the corners. “Promise.” He says with a reassuring nod, it’s the most sincere you’ve ever seen him. You bite your lip to stop from smiling at the hope blooming in your stomach, nodding back at him slowly. He throws you one last toothy grin before he’s walking out and closing the door behind him.

You sigh contently, staring at the closed door for a few beats before your phone buzzes to life from where it's laying on the floor. You bend over to search for it, blindly rooting around until you see the tiny display light. The ringing stops before you can answer, when you flip the screen up to check your inbox you have seven missed texts and two missed calls.

Four texts and two calls from Art, and just three texts from Tashi.

arty where are you? i’ve been looking for you are you okay? hello???

tash you know you're not invisible right? everyone saw your little show have fun <3

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

mini a/n: yes i did change the title leave me lmao love you!

[punkbarbarian]

for folks who don’t follow them on instagram— ally beardsley wrote part of an op-ed in the washington post for the 50th dnd anniversary about a moment playing dnd that really stuck with them and i wanted to share it here!

“a character’s journey — and my own”

I was an aspiring comedian in Los Angeles and had just landed a salaried job at the comedy website CollegeHumor. My co-worker and friend Brennan Lee Mulligan was looking for six comedians to create a show that would be like an at-home game of D&D. Why not? “Dimension 20” became a weird punctuation to my day.

I remember there being too many rules to remember. I kept turning to my friend, Brian Murphy, to ask which dice I should be rolling. I wasn’t paid overtime, but I loved the group and was having a lot of fun.

For the second season, I had my sea legs. I created a character for the campaign who was transgender. I had started going by the gender neutral they/them pronouns at work and among friends, but sourcing hormones or getting surgery seemed equal parts expensive and invasive. A fun thing about fantasy is stripping away the crunchy, real-world limitations and asking yourself: “What would I do if I could do anything?”

That season’s arc for my character, Pete, was extremely euphoric for me. I had described him as a trans cowboy you might see at Burning Man, and the artist drew him dressed as a freaky Hunter S. Thompson in an open shirt to show his top surgery scars. He has wild magic — uncontrollable and dangerous in the game mechanics — which we used to explore the painful chaos of leaving a family that doesn’t accept you.

Since then, I’ve started testosterone HRT and had top surgery. It’s funny to listen back to myself playing a character who had transitioned in ways I hadn’t. It’s full of inaccuracies that make me smile. Pete takes a testosterone pill every day; I now know it’s a weekly injection or a topical gel. I see my face, one wrapped up in playing something so new but instantly right. It was like an oracle. A near-future me who has health insurance! Who’s talked to their mom about being trans and even spent a week post-top surgery on that mom’s couch in Temecula, Calif!

As I started transitioning my appearance, seeing that in front of the camera felt raw. I was starting hormones, and my voice was cracking. Realizing it was all being recorded felt naked at times, but it has been really nice to talk to fans and friends about how important it is to see someone that looks like you taking a big risk on themself.

With Pete, it was really important to me to tell a story other than the dramatic lead-up to a medical transition. So we started with him having just gotten out of surgery, but that’s all you see of that process. Part of his backstory is that he doesn’t have a relationship with his transphobic parents, and before shooting the first episode, I felt sick to my stomach. I’ve been on a journey with my parents, and our starting place didn’t have much common ground. When my character meets with his father, it felt as though I was actually running into my own on the street.

Brennan could sense that discomfort, and as my character’s dad was about to call Pete by his deadname, Brennan shut the interaction down, surrounding his dad with bubbles that carried him into the sky. Magic is the power and freedom to manipulate your reality, and you can banish the awful voices in your life — let them swirl away into the air.

[roosterforme]

Adult Education Part 15 | Hangman x OC

Summary: Jessica knows Jake is sorry for losing it on Brian, but now she has once again started to dread going to work. Things had been looking up, and she desperately needed that hopeful feeling back. But a chance run-in with Brian's wife and one well timed email might just be the start of something good.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, angst, mention cheating, 18+

Length: 3500 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC

This story is part of the Beer Boy and Sugar universe but can be read on its own! Adult Education masterlist

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

Every day that Jessica woke up and got ready for work felt like she was making herself look presentable for her own execution. She hadn't slept well after Tuesday evening when she went home and cried after Jake punched Brian in the face. He offered to stay with her, but she told him she needed some time to herself. And now she was in a cycle of dreading every minute of work, just like before.

She'd had these soft glimmers of hope over the last few months. She had made a new friend, she had a boyfriend who she was falling in love with, and she absolutely nailed the fraternity fundraiser. Everything was looking so hopeful, but she should have known there was no way she could have it all if Brian was involved. Especially since it looked like he had a broken nose on Thursday morning.

She thought she was going to throw up when he looked at her. Any minute, Dean Walters or someone from his office would be knocking on her door, asking what exactly had possessed her boyfriend to punch the head of the science department.

But it never came. And the anticipation was just making it worse. When she heard someone tapping on her door, her stomach lurched as she sank a little lower in her seat. "Come in," she called out, her voice wavering. When the door eased open, she was surprised to see her friend standing there. "Advanced Calculus," she muttered, leaning back in her seat and taking a deep breath.

"I brought you some coffee," the other woman said as she closed the door behind her. "And I also came to ask you why the hell you didn't tell me that Jake punched Conley in the damn face!"

When Jessica looked at her again, she just shook her head. "I don't want to talk about it."

She set down the coffee cup and said, "You don't have to talk about it, because I already know all about it, because Jake won't shut up about it to Bradley. He thinks he fucked everything up with you. He thinks you're mad at him."

Jessica let her forehead rest on her desk. If she tried to say she wasn't avoiding Jake, she would be lying. "I think I just need to deal with the repercussions on my own. But I'll text him back." She reached for her phone and looked at the most recent message from him. Hey, Smart Girl. I'd love to bring dinner to your office hours, but only if you want me to.

"Wait. What repercussions?" the other woman asked as she took a seat with her own drink. "You don't think this will fall back on you? Do you?"

"How could it not? Have you seen Brian's face?"

She snorted. "I sure fucking did. I came up here more or less to congratulate you for making Jake fall in love with you so hard that he did that for you."

Jessica's heart pounded in response, and she knew her eyes were wide. Jake hadn't said that to her yet, and she hadn't either, but she felt like it was right there. "He just punched him all of a sudden. I didn't ask him to or anything."

"I know. That's the whole point. He couldn't let someone be shitty to you. I just knew Jake had it in him."

Jessica looked down at her phone again and decided to stop avoiding someone who made her so happy. I would love it if you brought me dinner.

His response came almost instantly, letting her know that he would be there. She felt a little better as she looked at her friend. "Thanks for the coffee." But she waved it off and shrugged. "I also wanted to stop by and tell you that everyone is still talking about your fratraiser. They all loved it."

Jessica wanted to love it, too. It has been the perfect night until Brian showed up. "Thanks. I still want to stop in and talk to Dean Walters about it, but I was trying to wait until things with Brian blew over."

"You should definitely talk to Walters," she replied as she stood to leave.

Jessica was tired of hesitating all the time, so she asked, "Do you want to have lunch together today?"

"Can't," she replied with a grimace. "I promised Dr. Rosenthal that I'd look at curriculum with him again."

"Tenure must be so nice," Jessica replied wistfully. "Not that I'll ever know."

Before she slipped out the door, the other woman said, "I'm still holding out hope, and you should, too."

Hours later, Jessica was still considering those words when she took a little break before the start of her office hours. She had been hiding at her desk, looking for a birthday gift for Jake, when she started yawning. With her office hours spread out like a gauntlet in front of her, she decided to quickly grab another coffee from the lounge. She would need it to get through a tutoring session with Luca.

But as soon as she walked through the door, she was met with Brian, and he had his arm wrapped around the same teaching assistant she saw him with before. The one he was most definitely sleeping with. His face looked terrible as the bruising had spread out from his crooked nose, giving him two black eyes. Jessica was sure the glare he was sending her way must be painful for him at the moment, and she had to try her hardest not to laugh. Apparently he was in full scumbag mode now, because he didn't even bother to separate from the TA as Jessica waffled next to the door, undecided if she should stay and make some coffee or not.

"Did you need something, Dr. Reed?" he snapped, his voice extra nasally.

The mere sound of his tone was enough to make her regret coming down here. "No, actually. I'll just leave you to your...business." She turned and left them, hoping she still had a can of Coke in her mini fridge that would suffice. And that was when she almost ran directly into Sabrina Conley.

Jessica recognized her immediately, and she could tell Brian's wife remembered her as well. A chill rippled along her entire body as she felt the woman appraising her with a hateful scowl. "Are you the reason my husband's face is a mess?" she asked, venom lacing every word. Convinced this week couldn't get any worse, Jessica stood frozen, completely unsure what she should say. Was it her fault? Or was it Brian's? Or maybe it was Jake's fault? She just wanted to hide in her office again and cry.

Sabrina took a step closer, her voice somehow more scathing as she said, "Can you at least tell me where he is?"

Jessica nodded, a jerky motion, as she pointed behind her and said, "In the lounge." It was a few seconds before she fully realized what she had done, and by that point it was too late. Sabrina had already disappeared around the corner, and then Jessica heard an angry shriek.

--------------------------

It had been two solid days since Jake saw Jessica, and this was the proof he needed. Seeing her every day had become a necessity. It hurt that she'd distanced herself a little bit after the incident with Brian, even though he could understand that she probably just needed a little space and time. But the irrational side of his brain was running completely wild.

"I fucked up the best relationship I have ever had," he groaned in the locker room on base.

"No, you didn't," Bradley replied with an eye roll. "Or... maybe you did. Maybe Jessica is out on a date with Dev at this very moment."

Jake glared in response. "It's 5:30 on a Thursday. She just finished a lecture, and she's getting ready for her office hours. She's not anywhere with Dev."

Bradley smirked as he got dressed in one of his hideous shirts. "You have her entire schedule memorized. That's so cute."

"You have your wife's entire schedule memorized," Jake retorted.

"That's right. Dr. Tits is finishing up her linear algebra lecture right now which means I can pick her up on my way home. Unless we take a detour to the library," he muttered, and Jake decided to tune him out. He needed to stop home and grab the food he made yesterday in the hope that Jessica would want him to stop by tonight.

He would make this all up to her. If she was somehow in some shit at work because of him, he would have to try to fix it. So he picked up the little individual containers of chicken, mashed potatoes and vegetables along with some ice packs. But his condo was so quiet, he was anxious to leave again. He was hoping Jessica would want to spend the weekend here with him, cooking and reading some journals. Making love and watching a movie. Really anything she wanted to do.

He drove his new truck to campus and parked, knowing he was right in the middle of her office hours and not wanting to intrude if she was working with Luca or someone else. So he went slowly up the walkway past Chippy's and crossed the street to the science building. If he saw Brian, he would stay calm this time. He wouldn't fuck anything up worse for his girlfriend.

When he reached her office, the door was closed, and he heard a soft conversation inside, prompting him to wait his turn. He was hoping it was Luca. He already felt the rage building inside of him over the fact that it could be Brian again. But then the door opened, and a skateboard hit the floor in front of him, and Jake smiled.

As Luca skated away, Jessica launched herself at his chest, and Jake welcomed her, dropping his cooler bag on the floor. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly as she buried her face in his neck and held onto him. "I missed you."

"I don't know," she whispered. "I just know I missed you, too." She started backing up, pulling him into her office, and he reached to pick up the bag of food.

When she guided him to her desk chair, he was delighted that she pushed him down before sitting on his thigh. Jake's hands went to her waist, and she came to rest against his chest with a sigh. Maybe she wasn't so upset with him after all.

He kissed her forehead. "I'm sorry," he whispered again. He'd said it so many times. "I'm sorry I punched him."

"I know you are. It's okay, Jake. Part of me is absolutely delighted that you did that," she told him as she ran her fingers along his name tag. "Because he deserved it." She swallowed hard, and when she spoke again, he could barely hear her. "Brian's wife was here today, and she walked in on him alone with one of the department TAs in the lounge. I'm sure it was as obvious to her as it is to me that he's sleeping with her now."

"Shit," he grunted, stroking her jaw with his fingers before brushing them through her hair. "If he got caught again, then he deserved it."

She nodded. "I don't know why I feel guilty that I was the one who told her he was in the lounge."

Jake's fingers froze. "You feel guilty? Baby, the only one who should feel guilty about anything is Brian.""I know that," she whispered. "I do know that. But Sabrina has been through enough, and I've been feeling bad for her for the past year."

She needed a break, and Jake knew it. "That's understandable, but it's still not your fault. I think you should come spend the weekend at my place and let me take your mind off things."

Jessica tilted her face to look at him. "How are you going to do that?"

He kissed her forehead again as he said, "By cooking for you and kissing you and reading journals with you." Her soft moan had him pressing his luck. "We could pick out some journals right now, and I could have them ready for when you come over tomorrow after work. You worked really hard on your fundraiser, and you deserve a break this weekend."

"Jake," she groaned. "That sounds perfect." The fact that she was curling up on him and yawning now let him know she was exhausted. And if Brian's wife was on campus earlier today, then there was a good chance she was upset that her husband's face was all bruised. He needed to take Jessica's mind off of this shit.

"I'll go grocery shopping tonight, and then the whole weekend is whatever you want it to be, Jess."

--------------------------

On Friday morning, when she ran down the hallway and into her office, Jessica turned on her computer. While it started up, she grabbed a few more journals from her shelf to take to Jake's place. Her plan was to leave right from campus to spend the weekend with him, her overnight bag already in her trunk. When she logged in to check her university email, she had to read over the newest message three times to believe it.

Dr. Reed, I realize this is very short notice, so please allow me to apologize in advance. Dr. Conley is taking a short leave of absence, and in an effort to keep disruption to a minimum, there is an immediate need for professors who are willing to step in and teach some of his courses. Due to conflicting schedules, you are the only PhD in the science department who can advise his Senior Studies class on Wednesday afternoons. I know this will be an additional workload if you are willing to take it, so we can discuss compensation on Monday. However, if you are willing, please let me know today so I can finalize this schedule. It would be much appreciated. Sincerely, Dean Corbin Walters

"Oh shit," Jessica gasped. Brian was taking a leave of absence? And not only was the dean not upset with her, he was asking her to take one of Brian's classes? "Holy shit." She lunged for her keyboard and typed up a response so quickly, she had to read it three times to fix the spelling errors. Her heart was pounding, because she would have been willing to do this even without the extra compensation.

And now she sat back in her chair, wondering exactly what had happened with Brian's wife. The anticipation was going to eat her alive, but she had a quantum physics lecture to hold. First she added a note to her calendar to call Dean Walters' office and schedule a meeting for Monday.

By the time Jessica was leaving campus on Friday afternoon, she had a meeting scheduled with the dean. She also took the time to update and recalculate all of her grades, and Luca was finally passing. She rode down the elevator with a smile on her face, knowing Brian wasn't on campus, lurking around a corner, ready to give her a hard time. Instead she walked out to her car in her heels with her head held high.

Her stomach was growling, but she knew Jake would feed her all weekend. He would take care of everything. She wouldn't have to scrape together any sad meals or plan her lessons through next semester just for something to do. She was allowed to enjoy herself when she was with her boyfriend. She was allowed to let her feelings grow deeper.

Of course she wasn't disappointed when she knocked on the front door of his condo, and the door swung open to reveal him in an undershirt and gray sweatpants, the smell of something delicious wafting to meet her.

"Baby, you should call me from the parking lot next time," Jake drawled, reaching for her. "It's getting dark outside, and I don't want you walking around alone."

Jessica whimpered as he pulled her inside and locked the door. Of course she thought he was being a little dramatic, but she appreciated him nonetheless. "Okay, next time I'll call you." She barely got the last word out as his lips met hers. Her palm slid over the roughness of the stubble starting to grow in on his cheek before she pushed her fingers back through his hair.

"You're really not upset with me?" he asked softly, eyes closing to her touch.

"No," she promised. "I just needed some time to think about things, but I'm not upset with you."

It was all a seamless motion as Jake scooped her up by her thighs and backed up until he was sitting on his couch with her on his lap. "I missed you," he whispered, squeezing her legs and hips gently.

She laughed as he kissed her neck. "You saw me yesterday."

"It wasn't enough." His voice sounded a little rougher.

She tugged on his hair until his lips were hovering against hers. "It was less than a day ago."

His nose bumped hers as his hands tightened around her waist. "Well apparently I can't go that long, Jessica."

She could feel his cock hardening through his sweatpants, and the more she tugged on his hair, the raspier his voice seemed to get. His green eyes were so pretty and eager, and she wanted him right now. Her skirt was already bunched up on her thighs, so she took his hands in hers and used them to push the fabric the rest of the way up to her waist.

A little smirk formed his lips as she said, "I can't go another minute."

Jake grunted and shook his head before his eyes trailed down to where she knew her rose colored thong was on display for him, and he swiped one long index finger up along her clit. "Jake!" she gasped, grinding down on his cock. He did it again, and she rolled her hips again. "Oh my god."

With one hand, Jake hooked her underwear to the side, and the cool air met her wet core. With his other hand, he tugged himself free of his sweats and his underwear, his thick cock standing at attention for her. She didn't hesitate as she sank down around him, making him groan loudly. One slow roll of her hips, and she was groaning too. Just when she was getting a good rhythm going, her lips met his neck, and his phone alarm started blaring in his pocket.

"Shit," he grunted, stilling her movements with one hand on her butt as he mashed his fingers against his phone screen. "I'm making you a chicken pot pie, and I don't want it to burn." He stood with Jessica fully seated on his cock, and she grabbed at his hair and his neck as she wrapped her legs around his waist, losing one high heel as he walked.

"Fuck! Jake!" she nearly screamed, clenching around him with each step he took.

"Hang on, Baby," he whispered, setting her on the island before turning away from her to reach for his pot holders. She was whimpering for more as soon as he was gone, but she was treated to the sight of him removing the pie from the oven before tossing the pot holders on the floor and rushing back to her, his wet cock bobbing along. "I got you."

He was back where she wanted him with one sharp thrust, and the look of concentration on his face as he worked her up made her smile. "You liked it when I was walking, didn't you?"

All she had to say was, "Yes," and he had her up off the island again. She lost her second shoe as he grinned and walked around the island, rubbing the spot deep inside of her that made her ache with need. "Yes." She was a mess, clinging to him and making ridiculous sounds while he walked her back through the kitchen. And then she was clenching around his cock, with her lips to his ear, but when she saw the dinner he made for her, she came. She whined his name, one long, loud syllable.

Next thing she knew, he had her back pressed up against the refrigerator, magnets clattering to the floor as he got some leverage and thrust into her with all his weight. "Jessica," he growled, nudging her glasses with his nose and squeezing her butt. Then he filled her up with his cum, his cheeks flushed and his eyes half lidded.

Jake kissed along her lips as he murmured, "Let me feed you dinner, Smart Girl. And then we can do anything you want as long as you don't leave my side." --------------------------

Could things be looking up? I mean, Jake can't really be blamed, right? And it looks like scumbag Brian is found out once again. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 16

@blahehblah

@sotalife

@desert-fern

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@rosiahills22

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@je-suis-prest-rachel

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@mygyn

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@whisperofsong

@seriouslyseresin

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@bradshawsbitch

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@hufflepufftruffle

@cottagecori

[unabashegirl]

Different 2 | College HS

Harry's quiet, routine-driven life changes one weekend when he meets Y/N through a mutual friend at her party. She comes from a superficial, materialistic world with absent parents who believe money solves everything. Despite their differences, something clicks that night, and Y/N can't stop thinking about him.

Author's note: though I would finally share the second chapter of Different since so many people have expressed their interest on it. I just posted chapter 25 on Patreon and though it would be a good idea to post one here too.

check out my patreon (starting at $2) and get full access to all 25 chapters and much more :)

word count: 2.5K

“Harry!” Mitch barged into the quiet library. Some laughed at him, while others shushed him.

“Quiet, please! Mr. Styles, please remove yourself and your friend if you can’t keep your friend in order.” Harry frowned and began gathering his books and notes. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him, so he kept his head down as he exited the room, with Mitch following closely behind.

“What do you want?!” Harry demanded as he made his way toward his dorm in search of some quiet.

“She is playing today,” Mitch almost yelled, wearing a big smile. “She is one of the captains of the soccer team.” Harry held his breath as he listened to the news. He felt his hands getting damp and moist. The mere thought of her being so close to him made him nervous.

“So?” He brushed it off, trying his best to act like he didn’t care or hadn’t been thinking about her the last couple of days. “What do you want me to do?”

“We have to go to the game and see her, fucktard,” Mitch insisted as they left the building. “Come on! I saw the way you looked at her! I know you like her.”

“She has a boyfriend!” Harry snapped back.

“Who?” Mitch stopped him, “That Brian guy?” Mitch laughed heavily, throwing his head back, only irritating Harry even more.

“Emma told me all about him. They used to date, and he is still hung up on her, but she is done with him. Emma told me that Y/N thinks he is too superficial.” Harry sighed, running his hands through his hair. The last thing he wanted was to get his hopes up. “Let’s go to her game!” Mitch repeated, “Come on! I am not asking you to propose to her.”

“Fine, but can you shut the fuck up about it already?” He needed some silence, just so he could pull himself together before seeing her again. She probably doesn’t remember us, he wondered. Harry had always thought Y/N was the type of girl who had multiple friends yet never remembered their names, and he felt like his name had been long forgotten.

They went back to their dorm and worked for a few hours before heading to the fields.

“I had no idea so many people came to these games,” Harry pointed out as they walked up the bleachers.

"Everyone is here to watch a bunch of girls running around in shorts.” Just as Mitch shared, the teams entered. Harry’s eyes instantly scanned the sea of girls in search of her. He spotted her running up while pulling her hair into a messy ponytail. She stood by her coach, who seemed to be having a conversation with one of her teammates.

Y/N was happy. She enjoyed playing soccer. It had first started as a hobby and before high school ended it had developed into something more. She spoke to the rest of the team. They nudged one another and laughed. That was until the coach approached all of them. The entire team quieted down and started trailing behind her.

“I would do her,” Ezra Hart mumbled to his friend. He was known for playing with girls and using his good looks to get away with things. He was on the men’s soccer team. Harry had known him for years. They had even gone to the same high school.

The game quickly began. The players began moving fast. Everyone was yelling, and the referee kept blowing his whistle.

Y/N was receiving passes and placing the ball center, but at the same time, everyone was going after her. At one point, they kicked her and threw her on the floor. The referee whistled and pulled a yellow card on the opposing team.

It was a free kick and Y/N was taking it. Harry had clenched fists by his sides. He was nervous for her. The referee whistled and Y/N kicked the ball.

She scored.

Half-time came around and Harry watched as Y/N ran in their direction.

“Hey!” She smiled and kneeled by them. “Hey Mitch.” He smiled at her widely.

“You are doing great out there,” Mitch complimented her. “You are kicking ass.”

“Good. I am happy you are entertained,” she giggled and turned her attention to Harry. “Could you wait for me after the game? I need to ask you something.” Harry simply nodded, not being able to put the right words together. She gave them one last smile before running back to the bench.

“Styles!” Ezra Hart called out. Harry looked up at him, slightly intimidated by him. In high school, Ezra would embarrass him in front of everyone, and things hadn’t changed that much since. “Where do you know her from?” He scowled as his friends stood behind him for support.

“Met her at a party,” Harry shrugged and turned his attention back to the game.

“That makes no fucking sense. Are you fucking her?” His friends laughed, “Nah, there is no way. You probably get too nervous and can’t even get it up.”

Harry pulled on the strings of his hoodie, trying to shield himself from the laughs and comments.

Y/N played with the same rhythm but didn’t score any more goals. Roughly twenty minutes before the game ended, she got substituted. She sat down on the bench and started taking off her cleats and shin guards.

The game finally came to an end with the home team taking the victory. Y/N disappeared but quickly reappeared with her gym bag and a coat.

“Hey,” Y/N smiled as they all walked towards the parking lot. “Are you alright?” Y/N could sense that his mood had changed. Harry gave her a quick nod and tried his best to give her a reassuring smile. “I don’t usually do this, but I wanted to know if I could have your phone number.” Harry stopped walking and faced her.

“Y-you do?” Harry stuttered, not believing what he had just heard. Y/N giggled and nodded simultaneously, leading him toward her car. “But—” he stopped himself, trying to keep all the negative thoughts out of his head.

Y/N threw her bag on the backseat, then leaned against the side of her car.

“But what?” She frowned, “Is there anything wrong?” Y/N asked innocently in a soft and sweet tone that could bring any man to his knees.

“N-no,” he shook his head and reached back, taking his phone from his back pocket. Harry handed his phone to Y/N so she could type her number.

“Do you need a ride to your dorm?” she asked as she typed his number on hers now.

“No. Mitch will walk with me.” Harry looked around for him, but he couldn’t spot him.

“Just get in the car, silly!” she said, getting in. Harry nodded and quietly got in.

“Why are you so nervous around me?” Y/N asked as she stopped at the first red light. Harry shook his head as he tried his best to be confident. “Are you sure? Because that’s the last thing I want.”

“I am fine,” he bit down his lip and turned to look at her. Her hair had started slipping out of her ponytail, but it didn’t matter because her facial complexity always kept her looking stunning. “Does that hurt?” Harry pointed to her scraped knee.

“Not really. The skin is just a bit sore,” she ran her hand over it.

“It was a rough knock,” he pointed out, remembering how they had kicked her off her feet.

“Here, right?” Y/N asked as she pulled up to his dorm. She had asked around, and they had told her where he lived. It had been a bit stalker-ish, but it hadn’t been with bad intentions.

“Thank you for the ride, Y/N.” She really didn’t need to do that. It was a short walk from the fields to the dorms. Although Y/N knew it was cold, and it had already gotten dark. He didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay with her. Harry could listen to her speak for hours, yet he knew that she was a busy girl. “Could you do me a favor?” he asked as he got out of the car.

“Sure!”

“Can you please text me when you get home?”

“I—I mean if you want. You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he babbled.

“I will, don’t worry,” she said just before he shut the door.

“Who was that?” one of Harry’s roommates asked as he walked into the building.

“A friend.”

“Is that Y/N Y/L/N? You are friends with her?”

“Yes. She is very nice,” he muttered before heading upstairs to finish some work, take a shower, and go to sleep. He kept checking his phone, and before he shut off the lights, his phone notified him of a text.

Hey, I just got home. I am okay. Goodnight ❤️

It was simple, but it was enough to make him smile and get his heart pumping quicker.

chapter 3

[not-handsome-enough]

FLASH AND GLITCH WARNING it’s not bad by mtl standards but it hurt the hell out of my eyes when I was working on it 😭😭

There more explanation under the cut cause there’s some explaining to do.

t

So this is set Post AOTD and the only parts of Dick that survived are his brain and heart. His parts are discovered by Charles when he went back to Deus Keeps remains to scavenge amongst the og Army for an intact left hand that he would transplant, as well as searching for survivors in general. ( something to note is he doesn’t find a replacement and he ends up having it replaced with a golden prosthetic )

He secretly brings Dick’s remains back to Mordhaus where he begins a project to slowly regenerate Dick’s body. He doesn’t tell anyone outside of a select few klokateers and the scientists ( Brian and Jimmy ) mostly due to how unstable the execution may be. Kind of like a don’t get the boys excited cause if it doesn’t work it will be just another downer/uncertainty that they don’t need right now.

I don’t know if Charles is employed with Dethklok or if he’s there for the sake of normality. Either way the boys want him there and he wants to be with the boys.

William finds the operation by accident. He kinda went back to how he was pre-mtl albeit a bit more open with his emotions. There are periods where Dick is left alone and Willy finds him during one of those periods. By the time he finds Dick it’s been a few months since Charles has brought him back to Mordhaus, so while his body isn’t ‘online’ yet, his brain heart and eyes are.

This is kinda how Willy first finds Knubbler. He recognizes the eyes ( which aren’t meant to be yellow like they are in the image above this was made before I had a concrete timeline set up ) so he talks his way into staying as long possible without being caught. They managed to set up a basic communication system with Dick’s eyes ( like yes no maybe but with eye colour ) and that’s how Willy knows he’s not supposed to know about the project. For the first few visits it’s just Willy apologizing to Dick for killing him and just getting out everything he wanted to say and apologize for. Similar to Nate and Rebecca but Dick can yk. Talk back. To an extent.

Cause while physically Dick is in the tube his soul is free to roam around the room. So while Willy’s talking to his eyes Dick’s walking around and just making faces at him and shit.

( I don’t like the colour I went for the ghost mode for him here but idk how to do ghost so best I got I’m sorry 😭 )

Initially it was just really emotion heavy and Dick wanted to be able to hold a full on conversation with Willy about the events of the Mtl but then Willy started bringing entertainment down to the lab and it spiraled a little.

Eventually Willy mentioned how upset he was that he didn’t finish planet piss and it turned into a month and a half of planet piss production ( nothing was recorded and sessions usually ended in a Willy typical tantrum and a promise of coming back tomorrow )

Despite how much these sessions pissed off Dick, his recovery ended up speeding up quite a bit, much to the delight of Charles The Scientists and the select Klokateers. Who still don’t know about the daily visits. Whether or not it was motivation to actually talk back to Willy and shut down his more destructive ideas or to be able to help him I don’t know.

At some point during the PP production Willy starts bringing board games like scrabble and battleship. Shit that made it easy for both of them to cheat. Which they ended up doing. Every. Single. Time. It’s impressive how neither of them caught on to the other cheating. Actually it’s more impressive Dick never caught Willy cheating since Willy was usually in control of Dick’s moves.

While this is happening Dicks body continues to reconstruct itself and eventually it becomes basically back to normal except in its green gooey goop ness ( the animation is like a sped up version of what happened )

( Again his eyes are not meant to be yellow I made this before I had the timeline set )

Dick, realizing that his body is basically reconstructed, starts trying to make his physical body move / tries to reconnect his soul ghost to his body. Unknown to him by rushing the process he glitches his eyes out.

So while he thinks he’s moving his Body he’s actually moving the Wires around his tube.

He practices while Willy is gone because he wants to be able to surprise him / scare the shit out of him a little bit, but this ends up being a detriment to him because when he finally does move in front of Willy it is not his body that is moving. Most of the time if he’s practicing he’s working with The Scientists and Charles

This is where that rough animatic at the top comes in so we know that Willy freaks the fuck out, runs away, and Dick is upset. Gonna jump a lil more into that tho.

So some things to explain / note in the animatic that I just didn’t explain well.

To show that Dick was glitching while moving his eyes turn yellow. The Scientists and Charles know about this, but before trying to move for Will, they never caught that what Dick was actually moving was the wires around the tube and not his body.

Willy was not scared that Dick was moving. If it was just dicks body or even just the wires he would have freaked out a little but wouldn’t have run away. He ran away because Dicks eyes were yelllow. Like he was possessed.

This is basically what was happening

Dick never punched his way out of the tube or talked to Willy.

That being said the flashing alarm was set off by Willy. He knew that the science gang would come if he sounded the alarm. He didn’t get caught by them but he saw that they weren’t panicking like he was.

Dick had no idea why Will ran away that badly until after the science boys came in and his body was unglitched ( which is why his eyes turn green at the end of the animatic ). He thinks Willy ran away because of the wires, not his glitchy eyes.

Also small note the scientists are there when they run in I just didn’t want to draw them because I watched the liquid album episode and they annoyed me a little bit I’m sorry.

Dick’s in the tube for about another month ( where he can control his body ) but Willy doesn’t come back to see him until a week before he is taken out of the tube. They end up having a repeat of the initial cycle ( apologies planet piss and then board games ) but sped up and a little differently. Apologies only last a day, planet piss lasts an hour because Dick is not about to repeat that whole ordeal again without having his equipment around, and the board games last for the rest of the week until Dick is transferred to a private hospital room. Dick ends up actually making sure Will doesn’t cheat and they get really competitive.

Willy doesn’t know where Dicks transferred to and Dick is once again bored out of his fucking mind.

They reunite again eventually but I’m leaving that up to interpretation cause cycles need to break eventually.

I didn’t go into detail about what their talks were day by day because I cannot write dialogue well which means this can be interpreted as Platonic OR Romantic. This au was written with the intention of being romantic ( doomed in original versions ) angst but it’s vague enough where it could be platonic and either way I’m happy.

[m1ssunderstanding]

Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 1.4

Oh, John. It's hard because I'm like “fame was not good for that man” but I'm also like “he would've gone crazy with self-loathing if he didn't have the fame.”

John and Paul start to answer a question at the same time. John: no, go on, you can say it. They're seriously so married. 

John's schoolboy flirting is cute, but what's more noteworthy to me is a) how happy Paul is to be shoved and b) how he instantly leans back into John. It's like they're bungeed together or something. 

John gets me. Look how much he loves Paul bringing out the forced confidence shield to protect him. He's so in love. So turned on. 

Here's my question about the death threats. Did the other Beatles actually receive them and tell Brian about them and keep them from John? Because that would be incredibly sweet and noble of them, but also, in that case, surely John received death threats too. Meaning he just didn't care about his own life and assumed the others were being left out of it because they hadn't actually said they were bigger than Jesus. Or did they have people filtering all their mail by that point? And Brian had been keeping the death threats from all of them? Because that could be interpreted as both protective and selfish of him. Does anyone know?

Again. I just love how Paul goes to bat for John over and over during this tour. Batting his eyes and playing with his hair and shouting down any and all criticism of John speaking his mind.

This moment is so telling to me. An interviewer who was up front at several concerts points out the looks and smiles between John and Paul which you can only see from the front and asks, “is it really that much fun every time?” The easy answer is, “Yeah. We like what we do. It's fun!” But Paul gets cagey. “Oh well the thing is you know with things like that it's probably…” and he makes up a bullshit story about messing up on a song they haven't performed in a year. Why do that if you don't have something to hide? (Even if you're subconsciously hiding) That right there is a tip-off for me that they're not normal about each other. 

Interviewer: are you guys breaking up? John, immediately and emphatically: No. Paul: "Depends what you mean by breaking up, you know . . . Because we can't go on forever like this, so we've got to think now and prepare for, you know, if it did happen. The time has come for us to break up, but we've realized the possibility . . . Of breaking up as a natural progression." Literally shut the fuck up right now, you're going to give John an aneurysm.

I understand. I know. I don't relate to Paul much but I do relate to his hyperactivity and his avoidant attachment. I make sure constantly that I'll be okay when all my relationships end. But you don't talk about that in front of the other person. Especially someone like John whose worst fear is being left. Come on. Think. 

See, now look what you did, Paul. Here's John's answer the next time they're asked about breaking up. 

And yeah, the klan being the ones to “stand up against the Beatles blasphemy” really proves my point from the last post I think. It's just masked racism. 

It actually seems like Paul's more vocally political at this point in time than John is. I wonder what happened to change that? Was it just the influence of their respective wives? Was it just easier for them to play up the roles they'd been assigned for the most part?

Okay on this round of “are you breaking up” they look at each other first before they answer and then Paul goes “all together probably.” I wonder if they talked about their previous answers together and admitted – however cautiously or however veiled – that hearing the other say they might leave hadn't been fun. Who knows, honestly.  

Paul and John often talk about making a radio show together apparently. Gosh if only they could've done that now. I'd make them my token white boy podcast. It'd be great. They'd be so lame and so adorable and they'd talk about recipes and politics and they'd gossip and rank other people's music. But anyway, what really gets me is the often bit. So they really did plan their post-beatle future together. Enough that it was a frequent topic of discussion between them. They planned to be together forever. 

Ugh it always guts me that Paul brought a girlfriend to Paris with him to meet up with John.

Okay my tin hat is glued to my head for this but. But. Hear me out alright? So John starts filming on 09/19/66. He's there for 6 &½ weeks. Putting the end at the beginning of November, right when Paul goes in disguise and alone to Paris. Do we have tabs on John for those dates? John just talked about going around Paris in disguise. What if  they met up by themselves and in secret? What then?

 No fucking wonder John was exhausted with him. Damn. He takes a month and a half to write strawberry fields, shows it to Paul, then...

Interviewer: the songwriting team will keep going whatever happens will it? John: yeah, we'll probably carry on writing music Forever. It's just so ‘Obviously. Might as well ask me if the sun's going to come up tomorrow.’

His friend – try dangerous drugs with and take home to daddy type “friend” – just died brutally and suddenly two days ago, and this is what he looks like and talks like and he's going in to work like it's nothing. I just. Compare that to John talking about Brian's death? Obviously two very different relationships but still… Paul's upbringing really fucked him up so hard. He thinks he's not allowed to be human. What can I say? It's a drag.

AKA the happiest 6 months of John and Paul's lives. 

I find it fascinating that Paul alone is asked to compose and record what would eventually become the carnival of light and that he just went ahead and included everyone in that. Really makes me wonder if he got a vibe off John that him doing the family way alone was hurtful or if they maybe even talked about it? Or maybe he just didn't like doing the family way without John.

Actually quite a lovely, forward-thinking, humble speech. Imagine being John, though. Watching that from home like “why the fuck is he philosophizing to the world without me?” Because you know John shares all those sentiments and might even have got there first. It would be infuriating.

“A lucky man who made the grade” is an interesting way to describe Tara and I can't help but wonder if it has anything to do with Tara being cool enough for Paul to associate with him. And Paul is many things but stupid is not one of them. He's going to at the very least wonder if this verse is about John laughing at his friend's death. Right? Like I know Paul's the repression CEO but seriously I don't think even he is that good. 

Maybe that Leopold and Leob quote isn't just about tearing people down verbally. Maybe Wooler genuinely got a vibe of a sense of superiority and therefore lack of empathy with Lennon/McCartney.

I mean he really does sound like he's describing sex though, doesn't he? Emotional, loving, romantic sex. Followed immediately by Paul's “I'd love to turn you on” lyrics and the “down with pants” and “sword swallower” pins. Alrighty then. 

What I would call my Beatles bio after watching this. "They Touched Dicks: The Only Logical Conclusion."

[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 4

Oops! I didn't realize this one had so many chapters done. I had been using it as my "I'm stuck on the other two stories so I work on this one to clear my head" story and I currently have five chapters backlogged. So instead of Batshit Soulmates today, you're getting two of this one. One now and one tonight.

In this chapter we have Eddie doing his research and we find out how he recognized Steve. Also Jeff&Eddie besties for life!

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

****

The last few days in Hawkins went by in a blur. Eddie couldn’t do the research he wanted to, not without alerting everyone else what he was up to, so he focused on buying both their albums and listening to them nonstop.

“This that band you went to go see?” Wayne asked after three days of him having both albums on constant repeat. “The one you were whining about have to go to?”

Eddie sat up from where he laying on the floor with headphones on and took them off, resting them around his neck. He pulled one knee up and draped his arms around it casually.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Dustin has been gloating about it, so I would rather you didn’t add to the pile.”

Wayne crouched down so that they were eye level. “This about that secret you found out?”

Eddie opened his mouth to lie but Wayne just raised an eyebrow and he snapped his mouth shut with a click. He let out a low shuddering breath and then nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, “it’s about that.”

Wayne picked up the vinyl sleeve and looked at the cover. He studied the image a moment or two before he said, “You think that someone you know is in the band, don’t you?”

Eddie bit his lower lip and then sighed heavily. He knew he couldn’t keep it from Wayne, but he had hoped he would have been back in Cali before he realized it.

“I’m not one hundred percent sure,” he said tilting his head back, “but yeah. I think I know someone in the band.”

“You jumping to conclusions?” Wayne asked in that gruff but gentle way that was a staple of Eddie’s childhood.

Eddie looked up at Wayne and then shook his head. “I don’t know enough. Not yet.”

Wayne got to his feet with a grunt. “Good. You keep it that way. There’s probably a good reason for all that.” He waved at the vinyl sleeve. “So don’t you go pushing your friend’s buttons until you know that reason.”

Eddie nodded. “I read you loud and clear.”

Wayne ruffled Eddie’s hair and walked away, leaving Eddie with plenty of time to think.

****

Dustin was staying in Hawkins for the whole summer, so when Eddie left, he was finally on his own.

Finally able to get out of his head and do some real research. He also knew better than to do anything than listen to his own music mid-flight. Too many wandering eyes.

Any one of his fellow passengers could be some blogger, Youtuber, Tiktoker, influencer or actual fucking press.

Thankfully the flight was most empty and short.

He was met at the airport by his manager Chrissy Cunningham.

She grabbed his bag, leaving Eddie to juggle his guitar better.

“Record management has all four of you in a hotel nearby,” she told him as she stowed the bag in her trunk. “They want you sequestered this time.”

Eddie winced. It wasn’t for any music related reason, though he didn’t doubt the sequestering would help with the process.

Nope.

It was because last time Gareth and Brian went on a three day drinking bender and were too sloshed to function for at least two days after that. Almost a whole week of recording down the drain because half the band went off the rails.

“Roger that!” Eddie said with a jaunty two fingered salute.

“You can have alcohol sent to your room,” she continued as they got into the car. “But Gareth and Brian aren’t allowed. So if you share your stash, that’s on you.”

“You can count on me and Jeff not contribute to the delinquency of our bandmates,” Eddie bit out. “We were just as pissed as the label when we couldn’t get a hold of them for those five days.”

Chrissy nodded. “Fame can really do some fucked up shit to people.”

Eddie hummed his acknowledgment. “Just please tell me I’m not sharing with anyone. You know they all hate sleeping in the same room as me.”

Chrissy snorted. “Only because you stay up all hours of the night perfecting song, while they actually want to, oh I don’t know...sleep?”

Eddie cackled. He was the world’s worst insomniac when they were working on an album. The rest of the time he was a sound sleeper.

“But no,” Chrissy hummed, “you all have your own suites. With Brian and Gareth on opposite sides of the hotel so they don’t fuel each other’s vices.”

Eddie let out a deep sigh. “That’s great news.”

They went up to Eddie’s suite and he immediately got to unpacking. He couldn’t stand living out of his suitcase and didn’t know how anyone else could.

He ordered a couple of six packs of beer, his favorite vodka, and a couple of whiskys that should last him at least a couple of weeks. He stashed the beer in the suite provided mini-fridge and settled down to watch Youtube on the big screen TV.

He was just devouring everything he could on The Fallen. He started with their music videos. The one for “Kiss the Boys/Kiss the Girls” was especially sweet. He found out that the lead singer was bisexual and that the song was about finding love in whatever form that took. With a full verse on non-binary peeps despite the title.

But the videos weren’t helpful. The band themselves were rarely in them. So Eddie turned to interviews. Impromptu ones on red carpets and podcasts, as well as sit down interviews for talk shows and entertainment press.

Again the lead singer was charismatic and charming. And it was looking more and more like his theory was correct.

Then he came across the interview.

“How does Azrael see out of his mask?” the Vanity Fair interviewer asked.

The drummer pulled out another mask and handed it to Abbadon. It seemed like it was part of the shtick that the drummer never spoke.

Abbadon held up the mask to the light. “You can see that the eyes are a mesh-like material. It works like a one way mirror. You with the strong light, can’t see in, but Azrael with darkness of the mask can see out.”

Eddie hummed his interest. That was a cool trick. It meant that the drummer wouldn’t get hurt while still maintaining that anonymity.

And it appeared that the interview thought the same as they nodded along, impressed.

“What is the reason for the masks?”

Astraeus leaned forward into the mic. “Because when we first got started no one would take us seriously as ourselves?”

Just then the hotel door swung open and Eddie quickly pressed pause. He sighed with relief when he saw it was Jeff.

Jeff stopped in his tracks to stare at the screen. “Oh hey, The Fallen. They’re pretty cool.”

Eddie whipped his head around and glared at him.

“How do you know about them and I didn’t?”

Jeff laughed. “Dude, the radio embargo was you thing, not an everyone thing. They’re really good. I love their new single ‘You’. It’s really sweet.”

Eddie nodded, it was really good. It was one was of his favorites, too.

Jeff got closer to the TV. “Wait. Is this the ‘metal fans would hate us if they saw who we really are’ interview?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah.”

“That’s such bullshit,” Jeff scoffed. “Metal fans are the most welcoming group of fans out there.”

Eddie chewed on his bottom lip and thought about Steve. And how preppy he still dressed even this far outside of high school.

“Not if they were preps,” he said softly.

That brought Jeff up short. “What now?”

“I think Abbadon is Steve.”

Jeff started laughing and laughing like he couldn’t stop. Eddie rolled his eyes and pulled up the picture he had taken of The Fallen’s lead singer. Once Jeff had gotten control of himself, Eddie showed him the picture.

“Okay...” Jeff said. “I’m not sure what this shows other than your obsession with necks.”

“Zoom in.”

Jeff rolled his eyes but did as he was told. “Okay, so what am I looking at?”

Eddie licked his lips nervously. “You see those two moles, just under his chin?”

Jeff half shrugged. “I mean, I guess.”

“Steve has moles in the exact same place,” Eddie explained. He took the phone back from Jeff and went through his IG feed. He pulled up a picture of Steve. The angle wasn’t exact, but it was close enough.

He handed it back to Jeff. “Now zoom in on the neck.”

Jeff did as he was told.

“Holy fucking shit!”

Eddie pursed his lips and chewed on the bottom one. He played with his rings and was just fidgeting.

“Dude!” Jeff cried. “We should tell someone!”

Just then Eddie’s fidgeting hit the remote and the video began playing again.

“Is there any chance of a future reveal?” the interviewer asked.

Asmodeus leaned into the mic and said, “Ask us again in ten years when we’re world famous.”

Eddie managed to get a hold of the remote to pause it again and in the resulting silence Jeff and him shared a glance.

“Fuck, dude,” Jeff said. “We can’t say shit, can we?”

Eddie shook his head. “It would be like outing a queer person before they were ready.”

Jeff came around the sofa and flopped down next to him.

“Wow,” he said with more than a little awe. “So Steve Harrington is in a metal band...” He let out a shuddering sigh. “And is good. Not just good, but damn good.”

Eddie nodded. “Is it bad that I kinda feel like I’ve been tricked?”

Jeff let out a slow breath. “Look, I’m not going to tell you how to feel, but if no one knows, that it’s not personal.”

“You mean to tell me that no one knows?” Eddie hissed, getting to feet. “Not Robin, not Dustin? Or any of the kids? Because I call bullshit!”

Jeff looked up at him. “Robin, maybe. Those two are attached at the hip. Hell, Robin could even be their slinky and sexy manager, Celeste. But Dustin, man? I wouldn’t tell that kid shit. Not if I wanted it to still be secret ten minutes later.”

Eddie fought to calm his breathing. Yeah okay. That tracked. Robin with makeup and a black wig would completely disguise her to the point that not even her own mother would recognize her if they passed on the street.

“Dustin wouldn’t–” he began but Jeff cut him off.

“This is the kid that spoiled Will’s surprise party that he was planning,” Jeff said, counting off on his fingers. “The kid that would go searching through his mom’s closets and under her bed looking for birthday and Christmas presents. The same one that announced our second album six hours before it was set to drop. I wouldn’t tell Dustin Henderson the time of day if I didn’t want everyone to know about it.”

Eddie huffed. He wanted to argue that all that was little shit. Not really that important. But then he remembered all the times where Dustin would say something out of context, something that all his friends would jump on him for, only for it to be revealed later that Dustin had spoiled some surprise. It was just that no one had realized it at the time.

This time he let out a long sigh.

“Yeah, okay,” Eddie said, sitting back down next to Jeff on the sofa. “And I know that if Steve had come to me and said he wanted to form a metal band, I would have laughed in his face.”

Jeff gave his knee a squeeze. “We all would have. So let’s do what we do best. We change the culture. We make the metal scene open to people of all walks of life, not just the freaks and outcasts. We make it safe for them to come out.”

Eddie let out a shuddering sigh. “Yeah. I could do that. We could do that.”

“Good,” Jeff said, patting Eddie’s knee. “It’s not going to be easy, but we’ve never liked easy.”

Eddie laughed as Jeff got up. “So what are you doing in my room anyway? Don’t you have your own?”

Jeff opened the mini fridge and took out a can of beer. “I forgot to order beer and I hate it warm, so I thought I’d steal one of yours.”

Eddie threw a throw pillow at him, which Jeff deftly caught and lobbed back at him.

Jeff came over and kissed his cheek. “Get out of your head and do something with all that restless energy you’ve built up with this eating away at you.”

Eddie let out a deep sigh. “Yeah, man. Thanks.”

Just as Jeff reached the door, he called out. “What would you and the boys think about inviting them to open for us on our next tour?”

Jeff grinned. “They would probably kiss you on the mouth.”

Eddie threw back his head and laughed. “Duly noted.”

****

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

Tag List: @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars @papergrenade @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @danili666 @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @goodolefashionedloverboi @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @yikes-a-bee @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman @eyehartart @dawners @thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95 @iamthehybrid @croatoan-like-its-hot

[intimidating-fettuccine]

(*・∀・*)ノ I wanted to fix my request on the cody one since ik you don't do cody so sorry! Can you do a scenario if zalgo were to put a 24 hour curse on the creeps so that their personality would flip and then slender would have to deal with some of his kids being super rude but some being super nice? (Sorry again and sorry if this is an odd request (ToT))

I appreciate you fixing it! I was going to handle it myself, so I appreciate you helping me :) I hope you enjoy, I tried!

He thinks he must be dreaming. Surely, Slender thinks, this must just be a very realistic nightmare that he's living in, but nope, this is his life. He knows the spell won't last more than a day or two, but he cannot wait for all of this to be over and for things to go back to normal, because this is absolute hell. Normally, they all get along, and act (generally) respectfully toward Slender. But now, now there's constant screaming, there's constant yelling, and the mansion has become swallowed up in chaos. He can't even depend on Tim, his right-hand man, to help him with this because Tim has become the most disrespectful of them all, and quite honestly, it hurt Slender's feelings, not gonna lie.

In an unlikely turn of events, the ones he has to turn to for any amount of support are Kate, Helen, and Candy, who are the most stable. Kate who is usually an energetic trouble maker has become calm and stoic, listening to Slender easily, and then there's Helen, the avoidant guy who is now incredibly emotional and clingy, and Candy, who despite his normal shenanigans like Kate, has become incredibly toned down and serious to the extent Slender wondered if it was Terrors he was speaking to and not Candy. Kate and Candy easily separate fights together, of which there are many. It's heartbreaking for Slender to see the family he has built quite literally tearing itself apart at the seams. Natalie and Toby are screaming at each other and breaking things, Tim and Brian (the two who have never fought before in their lives) have been arguing for hours, and that's just the stuff he can see and hear, he has no idea what anyone he can't find it up to, and it worries him. Not because of the mansion itself, but because he worries for their safety and their feelings. Kate and Candy do their best for damage control, eventually corralling everyone and getting them somewhere Slender can see, but the bickering continued, until finally, Helen snapped.

Their personalities may have switched, but the sight of Helen, who never expresses emotion, breaking down sobbing and just asking for everyone to calm down and get along so they could be a family again triggered something in all of their brains, and they all shut up and did as he had asked. Some of them had even apologized to Helen (and Slender as well), but the display had clearly gotten them to relax. They all stayed in the same room together, all eventually falling asleep, and finally waking up the next day having returned to normal. Of course, despite the spell, they all remember the previous day, and there are a lot of tears and apologies to just about everyone in the mansion. Those who broke things were quick to clean them up and offer to repay Slender, those who had arguments apologized and asked for forgiveness, and just about everyone was apologizing to Helen for upsetting him so much, which caused Helen to become extremely embarrassed, curling in on himself and wishing he could disappear because of his actions the previous day. It made Slender so happy to see them all apologizing and trying to fix things, but he was mostly just happy to have his peace and calm back, especially as they were all doing their best to make it up to him. The only person to miss the entire fiasco was poor nocturnal EJ, who had slept through the day and upon waking up at night had felt unusually lazy due to his personality change, so he went back to sleep. Upon finally coming downstairs that afternoon, he was very confused by the sound of all the broken things being thrown away and the sound of so many people crying, wondering what the fuck had happened. It was an awkward explanation, to say the least.

[echoalyssa]

Counterparts | Brian O’Conner

The night air is warm, almost comforting. The city of Los Angeles seemed to have decided to go to sleep tonight. The city, normally bustling with life, was quiet, peaceful. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barks up at the moon.

I’m standing in front of Mercy Park’s garage checking the oil level of my bike. My brother Logan is lingering by the bay doors, rearranging a stack of Husky jacks that really did not need to be rearranged. He was skeptical about me going riding with someone outside of our crew, but I had known Brian for years.

He drove with Dominic Toretto. Toretto’s crew were technically our rivals as we worked out of the same part of LA. Though Dom and Kaneko, the leader of the Mercy Park Crew, had come to an agreement to coexist.

We’d decided to leave the JDM’s at home tonight. It was perfect weather to take the bikes out and we’d both been neglecting the machines.

         The loud thrum of Brian’s bike alerts me that he is around the corner. I glance at Logan and narrow my eyes at him, begging him to go back inside and talk to Toby or Ximena. He was ridiculously worried about Brian considering his girlfriend’s dad was the cop who had almost brought us all in. 

Brian comes around the corner and pulls into the garage’s parking lot. He nudges the kickstand out with his right booted foot and then turns the key in the ignition to shut the machine off. He tugs his helmet off, revealing his blonde curls and striking blue eyes. The smile that he aims at me is intoxicating.

He dismounts his bike and crosses the distance towards me. I open my arms for him immediately. His arms go around my waist, and I loop mine around his neck. He smells like oil mixed with an earthy undertone. Brian holds me for a good minute before he steps back and flashes me with that grin again. 

“It’s been too long.” He glances over your shoulder and raises his hand in a wave, “Hey Logan!”

I hear the garage door close and know that my brother has finally left us alone.

“You look good.” I murmur back to him. And he does, he’s wearing a plain white t-shirt and black jeans. He has his steel toes on and a thin gold chair dangles around his neck. He’s showered recently, his hair bearing the signs of water. Though somehow there is a dirt smudge just under his jaw, as if he just can’t quite seem to stay away from the grime of working on cars.

Brian pokes the tip of my nose with his index finger and then glances at the garage behind me. He tilts his head in the direction of the street. Even though both crews were on good terms did not mean that we should be hanging out together in broad view.

I pull my hair into a loose braid before sliding my helmet on. Brian starts his bike again, throwing a leg over. He maneuvers it backwards so that he can pull back out onto the road. It’s currently wrapped in white with the signature Toretto decals on the gas tank.

My own bike, a Kawasaki Ninja is blacked out. I went for stealth. The machine roars to life underneath me. Brian nods in my direction and together we rev the engines before taking off down the road.

I let Brian lead; I didn’t mind where we went as long as I would get an adrenaline rush. He takes us through a few side streets before we hit the ramp to the highway. He turns his head, checking to make sure that I am still behind him.

The second he confirms that I am still following behind him like his little shadow, he tucks and takes off down the empty highway. My heart soars as I accelerate after him. The red needle on my speedometer quickly craws into the triple digits.

We’re absolutely soaring, breaking felony speeds, but neither of us have plates. The wind whips his t-shirt around, making the fabric crawl upward so it bunches around his chest and exposes the hard planes of muscle. 

There aren’t many people out on the highway, but we weave through the ones that are. We’re perfectly in sync, reading each other’s movements without needing to communicate. I give the throttle a little more and go surging past him, but only for a moment. He overtakes me. It continues like this for miles, each of us going for the lead. The city is a blur around us.

I outstretch a hand to the wind, feeling the way it pushes my arm back in because of the speed. Anyone who saw us together must have been in awe, we give off an almost ethereal aura. Yin and Yang. Light and dark. One and the same.

We were brothers. But bound by more than blood. We were twins as well. Counterparts. Gangster princes of the city we met.

No amount of words could describe the perfection of the moment between the two of us. A picture would do no justice.

Adrenaline pumps through my veins, one mistake and we would be dead, but there was no fear. Only the urge to go faster, to push the limits. That was the thing about Brian, he understood. That if speed was to lead to our demise, we would go out smiling.

Almost too soon, Brian drops a hand to his side, signaling that he is going to take the next exit ramp. He leans into the turn and checks once more, that I’m behind him. We maneuver down a few side roads and then come to a stop atop a hill. The stars are bright tonight, almost defying nature. 

Brian dismounts his bike first, and then he’s in front of me. I haven’t even finished setting up my kickstand before his hands are pulling my helmet off and his lips are brushing against mine. I sigh into him, trusting that I can tip toe the bike and kiss him back. It’s like a weight has been lifted off of my chest

He pulls away but rests his forehead against mine, his fingers brush the strands of hair that had escaped my braid back behind my ears. “I missed you.”

The only response I can find is to pull him back towards me. There wasn’t much time to spare for either of us, both crews were constantly traveling for boosts, but the time that we did have together… we savored it. Loyalties to the crews aside, the two of us would always come back to one another.

[qqueenofhades]

I'm having a bit of a rough mood from seeing that the judge in the Georgia case dismissed some of the orange motherfucker's charges.

Can I get some your ever-insightful perspective on this, and if there's still hope for prison time for something? Anything at all?

I can offer a few pieces of context on this, yes. First, the judge did dismiss a few of the less-substantiated and secondary charges against Trump in the Georgia election interference case. However, these charges were primarily related to "soliciting others to make false statements," i.e. how he enlisted others in the purpose of overturning the GA election results, and do not contest or impact upon the actual fact of election subversion (which is at the core of the prosecution). The judge also openly invited the prosecutorial team to re-submit the dismissed charges with more substantiated evidence and clearer testimony, so this wasn't a from-the-bench hack job like the ones Aileen Cannon keeps running in the Mar-a-Lago classified documents case (seriously, when can we appeal to the 11th Circuit to get her taken off? WHEN???) Which, considering that this is a Republican judge appointed by a Republican governor (Brian Kemp) is a good sign.

In short, this wasn't the judge saying "all these charges are bogus and inadmissible," it was the judge saying "I'll dismiss a few of these for not being as well substantiated as the others, but please resubmit with revisions/improvements and I will be happy to consider them again." And while I am not a lawyer, it is my understanding that prosecutors typically bring a multiplicity of charges, including some that might not ultimately stick, in case of this exact circumstance where some of them get dismissed/required to undergo judicial review/are otherwise ancillary to the central indictment. Which, in this case, is still intact. So no, Trump is 100% not "getting entirely off the hook" or "no longer under investigation in Georgia" or whatever else. I'm sure the GOP will try to spin it as such, but ignore them. The Trump "find me 11,780 votes" phone call to Raffensperger and the rest of his Georgia election interference has not been dismissed, and the RICO case still largely exists as first filed.

This is also a good sign that the judge won't order Fani Willis dismissed and the case completely shut down, as the Georgia Republicans have been trying to do with their hit-job inquiry into her personal life. If the judge was leaning toward dismissing Willis/the case entirely, this could have been a lot more sweeping intervention, but it doesn't look like he's going to do that, and in fact offered them an invitation to re-submit and make the case stronger. So that actually bodes better for the chances of eventually securing a conviction in the Georgia case, if the prosecutors have to go back to the drawing board and make sure everything is airtight. It's probably helpful to see all this in the above light and to understand that all legal cases drag on for years, with forward progress and setbacks. Especially this one, which is unprecedented in all ways.

However, I need to warn people again about thinking that Trump will be tried, convicted, and imprisoned before the election, and that this will spare us from having to vote against him or otherwise electorally dispose of him. SCOTUS, to nobody's surprise but still our disappointment, agreed to hear the Trump immunity case in late April (instead of just accepting the DC Circuit's opinion), and while they're likely to rule against him, that still creates another months-long delay. Importantly, though, the Department of Justice has announced that the "no legal proceedings 60 days before the election" rule does NOT apply to Trump, as he has already been indicted and the cases are currently being litigated. If they had decided that the 60-day rule applied, all trial proceedings would have to be frozen in the first week of September, but since not, they can continue into October and November. If the 60-day rule had been upheld, it would have drastically increased the odds of Trump avoiding trial entirely before the election, as few prosecutors would have wanted to proceed when they knew that there was an automatic kill switch built in. But if the DOJ holds to this, Trump could literally be on trial on Election Day itself. Which is good, obviously, but still: it will not be the magic solution. We still have to vote for Biden.

As I have said before, the stakes in 2024 are simple. The criminal trials will not get rid of Trump before the election. There will be another election that is Trump vs. Biden and therefore one of them will win the presidency. If Biden wins and Trump loses, Trump will be out of delay options and will go to prison almost 100% as all his criminal chickens come home to roost. If he wins, we will be fucked for generations to come. Vote accordingly.

[longhardtransitionreturns]

Author's note: This is a fictional story about a graphic medical birth in which the pregnant woman is presumed to be in a vegetative state but feels every moment of her agonizing birth.

Tara Strahan, then 22, was seven months pregnant with her first child when she and her husband, Brian, were involved in a horrific car crash during a winter storm. Brian died at the scene; Tara was rushed to the hospital where doctors eventually declared her to be in a ‘vegetative state’ as a result of massive head injuries.

Two days later, Tara regained consciousness but quickly realized she couldn’t move or speak. 

“When I woke up, I immediately wanted to know if the baby and my husband were ok. Then I realized I had a tube down my throat, and I couldn’t move at all, even a finger.” 

Tara had become the victim of a rare condition called ‘locked-in syndrome,’ meaning she had full cognitive and physical awareness, but complete paralysis off all voluntary muscles. She was able to feel pain and understand conversations, but unable to let anyone know of her plight. 

“I realized pretty quickly something horrible had happened to Brian. Otherwise, he would have been there. Instead, it was just an endless parade of doctors, and all of them had already given up on me. All the conversations were about how long they needed to keep the baby inside me, and how they would get it out.” 

Tara’s doctors eventually concluded that the risks of anesthesia were too high to perform a c-section. Instead, they decided to induce her labor, and allow her to deliver the baby naturally. 

Tara, who’d told friends that her greatest fear about giving birth was the pain she’d feel before the epidural took effect, had almost two months with nothing to do but think about labor and delivery with no drugs, unable to move or scream or even regulate her own breathing.

“I was scared to death. It was pretty much all I could think about, and hearing people talking about it all the time made it even worse. There were a group of interns, every day during rounds, who’d joke about whether the labor pains would bring me out of my coma. But the worst was when one asked the head obstetrician if I’d be able to push. He said no, not in the usual way, but the force of the contractions would expel the baby from my body. I kept replaying that sentence in my head, wondering how long it would take.”

Because she was unable to tell doctors if she was having contractions, she was monitored closely throughout the rest of her pregnancy. She knew there wasn’t a set date for her to be induced; instead, the procedure would be performed when she started showing effacement or dilation. 

“There was this one nurse who’d talk to me while she cleaned me. She said, ‘today we’re going to induce your labor and you’re going to have your baby, but you’re so lucky, you won’t feel a thing.’ I wanted to scream so bad, let her know that, no, I was going to feel everything.” 

Three years later, Tara still has panic attacks when she remembers what happened that day. (Editor’s note: what follows is a graphic description of traumatic natural birth, and graphic medical procedures. Reader discretion is advised.) 

“There was an air of excitement, and there were about 15 obstetricians from around the country who’d come to watch. They’d given me muscle relaxants so they could spread my legs, because my muscles had started to atrophy. They strapped me into the stirrups right at the start, and my gown was pulled up to just under my boobs. I felt so exposed, but the crowd of people didn’t even shut up when my doctor reached up inside me and stripped my membranes. I remember thinking how humiliating this was gonna be, which I don’t think I’d considered before.” 

Doctors used pitocin to induce Tara’s labor. Unlike the slow build of natural labor, pitocin often induces strong contractions right away. 

“I could see the clock on the wall. About thirty minutes had passed between the shot of Pitocin and when I had the first contraction. It felt like a vice had been wrapped around my uterus. Had I been able to speak, I’d have been yelling from that very first one.” 

Tara endured ten hours of hard labor, with the contractions getting increasingly stronger. While she suffered, doctors and nurses made small talk about their weekend plans. As the labor went on, some started to complain about how long it was taking. 

“I was in agony. I’d never imagined anything could hurt that bad. I wanted to pant, like I’d seen in Lamaze videos, but the ventilator was controlling my breathing. I couldn’t move at all, and being strapped into the stirrups for my entire labor was torture. My hips hurt so bad, especially as the baby moved down farther and the pressure increased.

There was one doctor who kept talking about his dinner reservations. On and on about wishing I’d hurry up and pop it out. He actually walked over and tweaked my nipple, and made a joke about that speeding up labor. Not only did I feel violated, it set off a horrible contraction, like the worst one yet. I got no comfort, no words of support. I was going through the worst thing I’d ever experienced, and it was like no one even considered I could be suffering.”

As Tara went into transition -- the most difficult, painful part of labor -- she says she heard some of the female medical professionals in the room joking about how much pain she’d be in, if she weren’t in a coma.

“There was this machine, they could tell when I was having contractions. They’d started coming one right after another, lasting almost a minute. It felt like I was being stepped on by an elephant. My back hurt, my cunny and arse were starting to feel like they’d explode. One of the women in the room said, “Whew, we know she’s really in a coma, she’d be screaming her head off if she could feel this.” 

Tara was in transition for over an hour before she finally felt the overwhelming urge to push.

“It was the strangest sensation, I’m not ever sure I can describe it. I needed to push so bad, it physically hurt not to push. But I couldn’t. None of those muscles would obey my commands. And then it was like the doctor said, the contractions got even stronger to push the baby out. I could feel him moving down but it was so, so slow.”

Tara watched the clock on the wall for five hours as she endured the excruciating pain of her baby making its way down into her birth canal.

“I wanted to die. I thought it was never going to end. I was praying for a c-section. I knew they probably wouldn’t give me anything for the pain, but I figured I’d have a heart attack when they sliced into me and that would be better than the agony I was feeling.” 

Tara eventually started having chest pains, and the monitors on her and the baby started to alarm. 

“I remember my chest started hurting after the baby had been stuck just behind my entrance for about two hours. I was so hopeful that they’d finally noticed something was wrong with me, that I was dying in pain.”

In fact, the doctors still didn’t know Tara was in distress, but her baby’s vital signs indicated he was. 

“The air changed in the room. All the laughing and joking stopped. One guy started pressing his whole body weight down on my uterus while I was in the middle of a really bad contraction. It hurt so bad, I actually thought it ripped.

He did that for a while, and then I heard them call for the forceps. I was so afraid, my chest was aching, and my cunny was on fire. I just wanted it to be over. I couldn’t see anything over my big belly, so it was a complete surprise when they jammed the first one up there. It felt like the metal was cutting into my pelvic walls. By the time they got the second one in, I was having a horrible contraction, and it felt like my entire stomach had ruptured.

One of the things I remember so clearly was that they cut the episiotomies, on the top and near the bottom, while I was at the peak of a contraction. I was suffering so much, I don’t know why that stuck out to me, but I remember thinking, ‘those bastards just cut me during a contraction.’

Citing pending legal action, Tara’s doctors won’t confirm how long it took to pull the baby out. Tara says it was at least fifteen minutes.

“They kept tugging and tugging and it really felt like my insides were breaking. My cunny was a mess, and they were pulling so hard I kept getting slammed back down on the metal table.”

Tara suffered a separated pelvis in the attempt to get the head out; it’s the moment she calls the “worst pain anyone could ever suffer.” 

“I couldn’t really even think after my pelvis separated. It was all pain, and I didn’t think it would ever end. I know it took a while to get the shoulders out, because the doctor kept putting his hand inside me, trying to dislodge them.” 

Tara says she lay there, splayed and bleeding from her ravaged genitals, for forty minutes while they worked on the baby. She says she was worried for her child in an abstract way, but was hurting so bad she couldn’t focus on anything other than her gaping sex. 

Tara says she passed out when a doctor pulled her leg back to stick his hand inside her, jarring her broken pelvis in the process. She woke with a pelvic fixator, 40 stitches in her genitals, and absolutely no pain medication.

[thechaoticdruid]

[Eat Your Heart!]

(This Bites: Valentines Day special)

Pairing: Astarion x F! Chubby MC

Plot: Winnie hates Valentines Day, having never been able to celebrate it with a lover before, but now that she has Astarion perhaps it'll change?

C/W: Suggestive themes, Sexual humor, random bigoted asshole encounter, fluffy goodness.

This Bites Chapters: One, Two, Three, Four,

Winnie turned on the television and internally groaned as she noticed a commercial come on. It was one advertising chocolates for her least favorite holiday. Valentine’s Day. Or as Winnie liked to call it Singles Awareness Day.

“God, I hate couples.” Winnie huffed a bit, glaring at the man and woman on the screen, sharing chocolates. How dare they shove their happiness in her face! 

“Meow!” Maddie hopped up onto the bed and took her place on Winnie’s lap, gently headbutting her ribs. 

“You get me, don't you baby?” Winnie asked as she looked down at the raven-haired feline, running a hand over her little head.

“Murp!” The cat made a strange little noise in response before leaning her head into Winnie’s hand and purring.  Winnie smiled softly and rubbed the cat's head before looking over at her phone. Mom and Brian were out of town, apparently going on a romantic trip for Valentine's Day which was tomorrow. 

Stupid candy heart holiday!

Winnie looked over posts online to see what everyone was doing. Her old friends from highschool were all happy and celebrating with their spouses the selfish pricks. How dare they be happy goddamnit! Winnie huffed before noticing Becca from work had posted an update about how she was going out with some girl she met at a con tomorrow and how excited she was about it.

No Becca! Not you too!

Winnie groaned and fell back on her bed. Maddie tilted her head curiously before hopping up on Winnie’s chest and sniffing at her face. 

“Ughhh…. I need some ice cream.” The brunette-haired female picked the cat up before setting her on the side of the bed and getting up.  Winnie walked into the kitchen and opened the freezer, getting a small container of chocolate ice cream out before closing the door to the fridge. She grabbed a spoon before heading back to the bedroom. 

Winnie sat back down on her bed, trying to turn the television on something more interesting to watch as the window to her bedroom suddenly opened. Winnie nearly dropped her spoon as the silver haired vampire elf crawled inside her home. 

“J-Jesus!” Winnie cursed, “for fucks sake Astarion! No one is home but me. You can use a door!” 

“I suppose I've developed a habit of coming in this way.” He said with a little giggle at the end. Astarion had something in his hand as he shut the window behind him. A little bit of blood ran down the corner of his mouth. He'd just been out hunting and was able to drain a plethora of raccoons, possums and even a large deer to boot.   Maddie’s tail shot up and curled into a hook shape as she padded over towards Astarion, immediately rubbing against his legs with a pur. 

“Oh, hello darling,” Astarion smiled and reached down to pet the cat. “I brought you something.”

Winnie’s eyes widened in complete horror as she noticed there was a bird in his hand. A small lifeless looking bird.  He held it out to Maddie who immediately sniffed it before prodding it with her paw.  

“Astarion! You can't just bring dead animals to my cat!” Winnie freaked out, setting her snack to the side before grabbing some tissues from her table. She scooped the bird up into them.

“It's not-” Astarion tried to cut in, but Winnie opened the window, and the bird suddenly sprang to life, pecking her hand before flying out the window.  

“Fuck!” Winnie cursed.

“Oh, now look at what you've done. You've ruined my gift to our precious little pet.” 

“She's MY pet and I don't want her killing birds in the house!” Winnie hissed before rubbing her hand where she'd been pecked. 

God, I hope that thing didn't have a disease….

Winnie sighed and closed the window before getting back onto her bed and sitting. Astarion pouted before sitting on the bed next to her.

“You're awfully snappy this evening.” 

Winnie sighed, “sorry. It's this damn holiday. It always rubs me the wrong way.”  Winnie said, grabbing her ice cream and spooning some into her mouth. 

“What holiday, love?” He asked, sprawling out over the bed and laying his head on her thigh. 

“Oh right, you don't know. It's Valentine's Day. Uh…It's a holiday celebrating romance and candy people really like to sell candy on it.” Winnie said, “people usually give their lovers gifts like chocolate and flowers on it.” 

“Oh, that sounds positively dreadful!” Astarion said sarcastically.

“It is if you've been single all your life and people are rubbing their happiness in your face!” Winnie exclaimed. “I hate it.” 

“Darling, you have me now, remember? And I would be happy to join in on any romantic festivities…as long as it's with you.” Astarion smiled softly, looking up at Winnie with soft round puppy-like eyes. Winnie blushed and bit and cleared her throat.

“I-I guess I didn't think about that…I've just been single for as long as I can remember." Winnie set her ice cream to the side table.  

“Of course I haven't been able to enjoy chocolate for the past two centuries, but I'm sure you'll think of something else for us to enjoy.” Astarion smiled and laid across Winnie’s lap. Since the brunette-haired woman had begun dating courting him the two of them got a bit more comfortable with one another.  Snuggles and hugs were pretty casual now, but they still tended to catch Winnie off guard. She enjoyed them, but it still felt so weird for a man to be so affectionate with her. 

Winnie’s brother was raised the old fashion way, taught to be tough and stoic and that hugging was for sissies so needless to say he wasn't very cuddly. Her biological father wasn't the type of person you wanted touching you.  And Brian pfft…As if she'd ever hug Brian! The fucking prick.

So really, she'd only known affection from other women. And it was all platonic. This just felt so weird. It was nice, but weird. 

“Well, Valentine's Day isn't until tomorrow, but we can go out tomorrow night and do something then?” Winnie suggested.

“Sounds lovely.” Astarion hummed.

“Still, it's too bad you can't actually taste normal food. I would have gotten you a bunch of candy hearts.” Winnie smiled, leaning back a little as she experimentally ran her fingers through his soft white locks. 

“The only heart I'd find myself wanting to eat would be yours I'm afraid.” Astarion joked with a mischievous chuckle, leaning up and laying his head on Winnie’s large pillowy chest as he snuggled against her. 

“The way it speeds up just for me is so…. mouthwatering.” He purred, nuzzling against Winnie. 

“I kinda need my heart you know…” Winnie huffed with a pout.

“Just teasing, my dear.” Astarion hummed, eyes closed as he listened to the comforting sound of her heartbeat, his arms wrapped around her plush waist as he cuddled on top of her. She honestly felt so soft and cushy to the vampire.  Winnie blushed a bit, leaning back with a yawn as she ran her fingers through the vampire’s curls. 

“You just gonna sleep on me tonight?” 

“Perhaps…” 

Winnie giggled slightly, “Okay…” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day Winnie went to work as normal, leaving an Astarion alone at the house with the instructions to NOT get into any trouble. Which for most of the part he didn't. He mostly laid around, played with Maddie, hate-watched some gods awful vampire TV series, placed one of the dog’s ‘surprises’ into Brian's shoes and took a long relaxing bubble bath while using one of Winnie’s mother's facemasks. 

Winnie on the other hand spent the day stocking shelves and cleaning floors at the CornerStore. 

She had to deal with some middle aged lady who repeatedly kept asking where they kept their grills despite the fact that Winnie tried to calmly explain that they did not sell grills at the store and that she should try the Superstore across town.

It was honestly one huge stressful mess and eventually Becca had to come over and ask the woman to leave when she noticed the lady raising her voice at Winnie.

After the workday ended Winnie headed back home on her motorcycle. She had to keep her mind from wandering off to tonight's events, but it was hard! Winnie was filled with both anxiety and excitement at the prospect of being able to spend this Valentine's Day with a romantic companion.

Eventually she made it back and parked in the empty driveway of her home. The neighborhood was mostly quiet aside from the distant sounds of dogs barking and children shouting from their yards. The sun was slowly setting and soon Astarion would be able to leave the house with her. She entered her home, stretching out her arms before walking towards her room.

“Astarion, I'm home.” She called.

“Welcome back, my love.” The vampire greeted, a book in hand as he laid on her bed, wearing a black tank and grey shorts.  Winnie blinked as she noticed the book in his hands, his fingers obscured the cover, but she had a bad feeling she knew what book that was. 

“Uh…What are you reading?” Winnie asked. 

“I never pegged you to be into such scandalous literature. It appears my sweet innocent little Winnie isn't so innocent after all.” Astarion purred. Winnie quickly went over and tried to grab the book from him, her face burning bright red with embarrassment. 

“Give that here!” She shouted, but Astarion immediately got off the bed and held the book up high and out of reach. Winnie was able to see it had been a graphic novel, an erotic BL manga that she'd gotten as a gift back in her senior year of high school from one of the nerdy girls she used to be friends with.  She had only read it once…. Okay maybe twice, but that was it!

“Tut tut, you didn't ask nicely. Naughty girl. ~” 

Winnie growled in frustration.

“Give it back Astarion!” She hissed before trying to grab hold of his arm and pull it down so she could grab the book. However, she had absolutely no luck.

Do…. I suddenly have noodle arms or is he suddenly much stronger!? 

Astarion was snickering, a wide shit eating grin on his face as he kept the book out of his darling’s reach. Eventually however the two of them tumbled back onto the bed in the scuffle, Winnie grunted as she fell on top of him.  Winnie grunted and Astarion then tossed the book to the side before rolling over on top.

“Hey!” Winnie whined, “get off!” 

“Ask a bit nicer and I may consider it, sweetheart.” 

Winnie glared at him, cheeks flushing with both embarrassment and a little bit of something else as he pinned her to the bed.

“Fine…. Please…Let me up…” Winnie muttered. 

“Good girl. ~” The elf said cheekily, planting a quick peck on the female’s face. Astarion rolled over and got off of Winnie, allowing her up.

“You know, I'm only teasing about the book. I really don't care about what little fantasies get you going, darling.” He giggled before tossing the novel back at her.  

“You don't need to be an ass about it.” Winnie muttered before taking the manga and putting it away (this time somewhere different).

“If it would make you feel better, I might be willing to indulge your fantasies one day. Once you're ready of course!” 

“I…. How would you…? NEVERMIND! The sun will be down soon! And I need to get ready….We need to get ready!” Winnie stated, her face looking all pink. 

“As you wish my sweet.” Astarion smiled before glancing over to the clothes he'd had been given. 

He decided to change into some pants while Winnie went into the bathroom with a bundle of her own clothing.  Astarion dressed before looking at the black hoodie Winnie normally had him wear. The white-haired vampire rolled his eyes at it before noticing Winnie’s own jacket hung up in the closet. It was a dark purple hoodie which radiated with her scent. Astarion grabbed hold of it before sliding it on. It didn't fit quite right. It was a bit loose around the chest and waist while almost being too short for him to wear, but he couldn't help but find comfort in the smell. Lavender and cherry blossoms. It made him feel at ease. 

Winnie came out of the bathroom a few minutes later dressed in a red blouse-like shirt with a heart shaped hole over the chest and black tights which hugged smugly around her thick thighs. She was running a brush through her hair as she looked over at him. “You know my hoodie doesn't fit you right?” 

“Gods forbid you let me wear anything with a little bit of color!” Astarion pouted. 

“I'm not saying you can't borrow it…It's just. I’ll buy you your own if you want one.” Winnie offered.

“No!” Astarion said quickly, “I-mean don't bother, you probably won't be able to find another one this comfortable!” The pale elf insisted. 

Winnie sighed, “Whatever. Let's just go…Oh wait…” Winnie looked around in her dresser before taking out a black beanie. She got on her tippy toes before placing it over his head and covering his elf ears. 

“You’re messing up my hair…Winnie…” Astarion complained and glared down at the short female.

“I always fix it for you, don't I?” Winnie shrugged before grasping Astarion's hair. “Come on! The sun's gone down!”  The two left, hopping onto Winnie's motorcycle and driving off. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tall brightly lit lamp posts surrounded the archery range as the love birds paid their way in and rented a pair of bows before walking up to the ring. Winnie scrunched her nose as they passed another couple who absolutely reeked of booze. She'd noticed them arrive in some huge camo SUV with deer antlers mounted to the hood and an obnoxiously loud radio playing.

The archery targets were set up past the fence, all set up in a horizontal line and each one was moved further back than the one that came before. Winnie struggled to hold her bow correctly, grunting in frustration as the arrow would slide out of place.

“My sweet, let me help you.” Astarion said, carefully adjusting Winnie’s hands.  She took a deep breath before pulling the around back and shooting it. It fell right onto the ground almost immediately after being shot. 

“Ah! I suck at this!” Winnie huffed. 

“Well, you're still much better at it than Gale.” Astarion smiled a bit. 

“...Thanks….” Winnie said, not sure if being better than Gale was really that great a compliment.

“Try again, love.” Astarion said before moving to help Winnie. He stood close behind her, chest against her back as he positioned her hands, this time guiding them to pull back the bowstring. He had her pull it back as far as it would go before releasing it. The arrow shot across the range and hit the side of one of the targets.

“Whoa!” Winnie smiled, “I actually hit it!” Astarion adjusted her hands once again and helped her notch another arrow, this time hitting closer to the center of the target. 

“Okay! Okay! I'm going to try by myself this time!” She cheered. The elf watched her fondly. He found her giddiness positively adorable.

She pulled back the arrow before letting it go and it went about five feet before falling to the ground.

“Oh goddamnit!” Winnie swore, attracting the attention of onlookers. 

“You did better this time, darling. But perhaps you should take a break, hm?” Astarion suggested and patted her shoulder. 

“Yeah .... I guess so .... How about you shoot some?” Winnie asked. 

“I suppose I could.” Astarion hummed before planting a kiss on Winnie’s cheek. “But don't get upset when I upstage you.”

“No, by all means! Don't be afraid to show off!” Winnie smiled at him. Astarion smirked before taking the bow and notching an arrow. He pulled it all the way before letting it go and immediately hitting a bullseye on his first try.

A make-up-caked woman with short red hair and ruby red lipstick looked over from where she stood next to a tall beefy man in a leather vest, her eyes wide with amazement.  

Winnie clapped, a grin forming on her lips.

“Keep going Star! That was awesome!” She cheered.

Astarion shot another arrow at the next target immediately hitting another bullseye. Most of the targets he'd been used to usually moved so this was honestly way too easy.  Winnie followed Astarion as he hit the targets one after another each with a flawless technique.  

And he even shot one backwards.

Okay I said you could show off, but this is a little much….

“Astarion-” Winnie began before suddenly the red headed lady marched over and pushed her out of the way. 

“That was amazing! Where did you learn how to do that?” She asked, eyes leering over Astarion now that the woman was able to get a better look at him.  

“It’s all instinct really.” The elf replied with a smug, confident look. He appeared to be eating up the praise.

“It's very impressive. You must be very strong.~” She purred, moving to stand closer before placing a hand on his arm, feeling it up. Astarion grimaced and looked at the woman with a flash of disgust.  Winnie glared over at the woman with annoyance. 

Seriously? This is the second time some floozy thinks it's okay to invade Star’s personal space! 

“Look lady, he doesn't like people being all touch-” Winnie was about to try to run the woman off before suddenly the man she'd previously been with stomped over towards the three.

“HEY! Get the hell away from MY wife!” He snapped. 

“Apologies, it seems your lady has had a little too much to drink.” Astarion said, removing the woman's hand from his shoulder as if she was carrying some kind of disease. 

“Are you saying she's not good enough for you!? What are you gay!?” The man pushed through, he reeked of alcohol just as much as his wife did it seemed. Winnie furrowed her brows at the man's ridiculousness. He clearly just wanted any reason to fight. Astarion seemed a bit confused at his question.

“Not at the moment. Nothing really to be cheerful about currently.” 

“You being smart with me, pretty boy?!” The man shouted. Astarion was trying to remain civil for Winnie’s sake but the bastard was really trying his patience. Astarion wasn't permitted to have a knife, Winnie made sure of it but the vampire spawn claws he'd grown while here definitely weren't for looks. Wouldn't be too hard to poke a hole in this cunt’s windpipe if he was quick. 

“No. Not at all.” Astarion replied, “I was simply answering your question.” Astarion had a fake smile on his face, but Winnie could see the irritation in his eyes. If this didn't resolve itself quickly someone was going to get hurt.

“You think you're real funny don't you, you fucking faggot!?” The man snarled. 

“You know I've been called a lot of things, but that…I've never heard of. Probably not a very intelligent insult by any means.” Astarion chuckled a bit, his smile turning more sinister. Fingers clenched as his claws prepared to strike. The bigoted drunkard seemed about ready to blow his top and start throwing punches.  The floozy wife just seemed to be giggling and enjoying the chaos, not even caring if someone got hurt.  Winnie had to act fast before this turned to bloodshed. Before anyone could say another word she grabbed her bow and an arrow before desperately aiming towards the parking lot. She pulled it as far as it would go, almost instinctively remembering how Astarion showed her earlier. 

The arrow flew across the range and hit the drunk couple’s SUV right in the headlights, almost immediately sounding the car alarm. 

“What?” The bigoted man tore his head away from Astarion before suddenly his wife shouted.

“Fuck! That's our car!” She took off running. 

“Goddamn it! Who's breaking into my baby!” The man yelled before running off. 

“Well, that was rather convenient.” Astarion said before Winnie grabbed his arm. 

“This was fun, but it's time to go!” Winnie said before dragging him off and abandoning the bows they'd rented at the range. It took a moment for Astarion to realize that Winnie had been the one to cause a distraction.

“This was your doing? You sneaky little devil! I'm so proud, my love!” 

“Yeah yeah whatever now let's get out of here before we get arrested!” Winnie pressed, dragging the giggling elf with her back to her motorcycle. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I hate that some assholes had to ruin our Valentine's Day. God, I swear nothing good ever comes from this holiday.” Winnie huffed as she sat down on a blanket.  Her and Astarion had made a little picnic on a hill out in the woods not too far from Winnie’s home. Winnie had gotten the idea of trying to head somewhere more private when she'd stopped at a rest stop on their way after the fiasco at the archery range. 

“I wouldn't say that. You and I still get to spend plenty of alone time together.” Astarion said and scooted closer towards her.  Winnie looked up at the sky. 

“I suppose you're right about that. Brian and mom won't be back for a couple of days…” Winnie scooted a bit closer towards Astarion and leaned against him. 

“I…Uh…I have something for you…. Winnie…” Astarion looked off to the side before taking something out of his pocket. 

It was a small box of heart shaped chocolates. 

“I'd still much rather sink my teeth into a different heart, but I'd imagine you'd prefer this.” 

“Astarion…This is so sweet….Thank you….” Winnie took the box and nibbles on one of the chocolates, a smile stretched across her face from ear to ear. Astarion simply snuggled against her, planting a kiss on her forehead.

“When did you even buy ... .? Wait a moment…You stole these didn't you?” 

“Ah….I may have done that….Yes…ah ha ha…” 

Winnie let out a long sigh.

“What am I going to do with you?” She rolled her eyes before wrapping her arms around his neck and leaned in, nuzzling her nose against his. Astarion smiled and nuzzled back, the two pressing their foreheads together.

“Just hold me…” He whispered.

The two love birds were completely unaware as a figure watched them from far away. The figure was slender and corpse-like. 

“Thou doth not know what thy actions will bring. It is only a matter of time.” The figure's echo of a voice rang out. 

End.

Taglist: @astarioffsimpmain, @iamsexytrash, @tiedyedghoulette, @hp-art-studio , @gaymistakeboi , @the-disaster-in-waiting, @misscrissfemmefatale, @divineknightmare, @marcynomercy, @gianchan-de, @tinyfreakgirl, @jaksfanficsaver, @im-just-a-simp-le-whore, @dajeong

IDK, but Tumblr would not let me tag some of y'all, but I will notify you when the next parts come out!

[crushedsweets]

ok ok ok ok so i feel like,m idk. hat do you think the creeps are like when they laugh or smile. like full on snorting sobbing out of breath red tomato face laughing or just lik "haaha" or what

HIIII i love this ask its so cute. again, applies to my au, so if i mention smth weird its cuz its smth deep in my brain.... LOL

tims a chuckler... its like a deep, almost raspy chuckle. if its ever funny enough for a full laugh, he's wheezing.

brian also chuckles, but he has a huge smile and it sounds a lot more genuine than tim half the time. we all know what his smile looks like it is very pleasant .

toby's always cheesing. ok jk no he's not but he likes to laugh, it feels good. he'd start with a closed mouth, trying not to smile laugh cuz he's also annoying and doesnt want to give ppl the satisfaction that theyre funny, but he can't hold it in and will literally throw his head back laughing at random shit

kate has a cute little smile, those little crescent smile lines at the corner of her motuh - she has a quiet laugh most of the time, she's really not the type to go HAHAHA...

natalie snorts. if smth is funny she's snorting and u know it. not even laughing she'll just snort n nod along

jack just has a very normal like. hahah. like if its funny he's gonna bbe like haha. IDK HOW TO EXPLAIN like theres litetally so many guys in my classes who just laugh like hahaha and thats jack.

sally giggles, obviously . shes like lol. hehe. haha. HEHE. she has those over-sized big ass teeth that kids have when they havent grown into their adult teeth yet, so it looks rlly cute when she smiles. always smiles w her teeth

ben wheezes, snorts, rolls his head back, fucking grips his stomach, he goes the full mile. it is never that funny but wow will he laugh.

jeff also wheezes but it sounds like he's a chainsmoker,closer to tims wheeze rather than bens wheeze. its ugly. he smiles w his teeth too, and its fucking. his teeth wont even be touching his smile is just huge idk like hes ugly idk bro omfg. im sorry. no. he always sounds like hes laughing at you, rather than with you

liu wheezes too, runs in the family i guess. he just sounds like a much more pleasant, genuinely happy version of jeff. laughs with you. will put a hand on ur shoulder if u made a joke and laugh and tilt his head down and shake his head n shit.

jane has a quick sudden "HAH" type of laugh. it kinda surprises people cuz youd expect more of a gentle "haha" thing but its so sudden and loud and its cute fr.

nina fucking giggles she wont shut the FUCK UP she will keep going and snort and slap her knee. her and ben r the same theyre so annoying. shes so cute though.

ann has an annoying ass sultry laugh. like it almost seems like shes forcing it to be sexy. its terrible. she smirks too. its awful

lulu has a very light, airy laugh. never smiles with her teeth. it almost echoes when shes in fog

sadies laugh sounds like shes crying like the amt of time shes been laughing hella hard and someones liek RU OK and shes liek YEA ... then covers her face to laugh its so bad

dina has a sinister ass laugh idk how to explain that one either. a mix of HEHEHE and HAHAHAH like its never that serious but shes laughing like idek.

[medusas-musings]

YOUR BRIAN QUINN X READER ONESHOT WAS SO GOOD, HELLO?? Anyways, I was wondering if it was possibly to do a Q x Gender Neutral reader? Nothing fancy but maybe and established relationship and some fluff y'know?

THANK YOU????? OMG?????????? Anyway I think I'm gonna try to write in a more Gender Neutral friendly way anyway for one shots, everyone deserves to fantasize about their celebrity crushes <3 Hope y'all enjoy!!

Movie Night (Brian “Q” Quinn x GN!Reader)

Summary: Q is late from filming. Again. But you could never stay mad at him, it's almost impossible. Slight angst-ish??? But overall fluff!

As I finish washing the dishes, I can't help but shut the door to the dishwasher with a swift thud, causing some of the dishes inside to rattle. My lungs fill slowly then release the air in huff as I look at the clock to the microwave: 11:23 pm. I can feel my heart drop with every minute that passes across the face of every clock in our house. Q was late, again. But this time, it hurt just a little bit more.For the past month, Brian’s been staying later on set, whether it was to catch up on busy work or to simply squeeze in some quality time with his friends. At first, I really didn’t mind; I knew what I signed up for when it came to dating someone who has their own tv show. However, one hour late becomes three hours late and I end up waiting by the phone in bed for a “coming home” text from him. He still cares, I know that at least. There’s been a lot of morning coffee talks about my feelings and I know he had his full attention on me and my new worries. He suggested that the next night he’ll get home as soon as he can and we can have a cozy movie night in. It was such a simple idea but I couldn’t help but feel a comfort wash over me. I had set up our living room with warm blankets, lavender scented candles and popcorn that’s lost its heat. The screen of our TV was on a selection of movies I picked out for the night, but it’s been replaced with the scrolling Roku cityscape. Now as I find myself trying to distract myself with any busy work in the house, the soft fuzzies I had for this plan have been replaced with anger. Before I was about to pull out a broom from our pantry to start sweeping, I heard the locks of the door move around. Most days this was music to my ears but right now it was nails on a chalkboard. I wait for the door to open then close behind him; I don’t need the neighbors to hear me chew this man out. “You are…” I glance at the clock on the microwave again and do some mental math before continuing my sentence. “Three hours and 30 minutes late, give or take.” I inform him, my voice calm but laced with ice. I close the door to the pantry and start to walk toward the entryway, my tone shifting to release the pent up frustration from the hours. “Really, Brian, I get you work hard and can’t always text me but you can’t-”

As I turn the corner to look at him, the first thing that catches my eyes are the flowers. They’re classic roses, a flower I enjoy because it’s safe for our cats. The next thing I see is the plastic bag in his other hand, stacks of styrofoam boxes inside. I recognized the smell instantly as one of my favorites from a local restaurant nearby Q and I had our first date at. There was a second bag, this one from the grocery store down the street; I could see from the top of it a bag of one of my favorite sweets and a pint of ice cream clinging to the bottom of the bag. Brian’s face is what I noticed last, and it nearly broke my heart. His eyebrows were together and his eyes filled with anxiety. The confidence he usually carries about him is dissipated, as if it was gone for the season. I didn’t want to immediately forgive him, but seeing him so worried about receiving my disapproval almost made all of my anger vanish.

“Baby, I know.” Q finally manages to find his words. “I’m late, but I promise I didn’t mean it. I really wanted to get home on time but the producers were up my ass about some final details for the season.” He walks towards me, as if he’s holding out his hand to pet a snarling dog. I didn’t let my expression soften yet; I wanted to see just how much he was willing to put into this little apology.“You couldn’t call?” I ask, finding an excuse to let my anger be for more than nothing for a second longer. My eyes try to stay off the gifts, not wanting to put my guard down just yet. “I wanted to, I promise. But once I realized I was still there at 9 I couldn’t think of anything but rushing around to get ya all this.” His broad shoulders raise, motioning to everything in his arms. I can’t help but imagine myself there instead. “I guess trying to make it up to you worsened the damage, I’m sorry. He notices me looking at the ground, avoiding his eye contact. His confidence was returning; he knew I didn’t want to be mad at him, and he knew exactly how to fix it. He gently lays the bags onto the ground and walks over to me, placing the bouquet onto the end table next to us. His arms now vacant, Q’s places his hands onto my cheeks, gently tilting my head up to meet his. His eyes had that special glimmer of softness to them, one I’ve only noticed when he looks at me. I pursed my lips slightly, trying to keep a serious nature to my face, but the mask was slipping. And he knows it. A small smirk creeps up onto his face, his facial hair framing his smile perfectly. At times like this, I hated how gorgeous his eyes were. “I’ll let you pick the movie.” he teases, his lips forming a real smile. I can’t fight the gentle smile that appears on my face as he leans down to give me a gentle kiss onto my forehead. My hands snake their way around Q’s waist and I tilt my head up to place a chaste kiss onto Q’s cheek, a white flag in this battle that’s only transpired in my head. “You’re too good at diffusing my anger, you know that?” I ask, moving one of my hands to his face, the fuzz of his beard scraping against my palm. He smiles back at me. “I hate seeing you angry with me, Sweetheart, I gotta do what I can to fix it.” He breaks away from our embrace and grabs the bags he carried into our home. “Look, you go relax in our living room that you worked so hard to make all cozy and I’ll get these roses in a vase for you and get our dinner situated, don’t you do another chore, baby!” I smile at him walking to our couch and sit down, getting myself comfortable with the blankets and pillows. I watch as Q puts the ice cream away and fills a vase with water, looking at his phone from time to time about how to properly prepare flowers for a vase. Watching him try so hard to salvage this night made every angry thought I had 30 minutes ago seem so irrational. I wondered how I could ever be angry at the man who fills my heart with so much adoration and makes my world more colorful. In about 5 minutes, he shuffles into our living room area placing down the containers of our dinner onto the glass coffee table and lays a couple bags of snacks on the floor by our feet. From muscle memory, I cuddle into him putting my head onto his chest and then feel his arm wrap around my shoulders. He gives me a kiss on the top of my head as I take in his scent and I couldn’t describe it as any more than just “home”.

At this moment, I understand now that I wasn’t mad at Q, I was really having withdrawal symptoms of him. Getting my fix of my beloved set everything right in my world, and it felt as if anger wasn’t a feeling, but a distant memory.

[wehaveimagineshere]

In Act 3 if you make the deal with Raphael, Gale says "I can't believe you signed that contract. We'll discuss this. Later." Would you please do something NSFW with this as a prompt because it has me feeling things lol

You didn't specify an admin, so I - Ren - will be writing this as a scenario (: You also did not specify reader gender and pronouns, so they'll default to AFAB and she/her.

I tried finding this dialogue but had no luck! I can see why it would make you feel things cause just imagining it myself has me going 👀

~*~*~

The door clicks shut and you inhale slowly, turning your head so you can see Gale. Arms crossed, face as furious as you've ever seen it, you know you're in for the biggest tongue lashing of your life.

"Before you say anything--" you try, but he cuts you off.

"I can't believe you signed that contract! What were you thinking?"

"I--"

"I did not trek halfway across Faerûn to watch you throw your life away to a godsdamn demon. Have you not paid any attention to Wyll? To what he's had to go through?"

You turn to him fully. "Gale--"

"Don't 'Gale' me! I thought you were smarter than this! I thought--"

"Do you have any better ideas?!" you snap, throwing up your hands. "Do you? Do any of you? This gods forsaken Elder Brian is causing the entire city to shake and you think we can just win through friendship and hope?"

"I did not say that--"

"No, but you act like it! Mystra isn't coming to save us, Gale! She wants you to blow yourself up and I hate to say it, but she's the only god that has even deigned to look in our direction!" Throwing your arms wide, you give an aggravated laugh. "Raphael has given us something, a way to kill the damn thing!"

"I would rather die than see you struggle like Wyll!"

"And I would rather get played by a demon than see you turned squid!"

"Do you have any idea what Raphael can do with the crown?"

"I know what won't happen, Gale. Us turning brain eater!" You step forward. "I am trying to not only see to the end of this conflict in one piece, but to see a future beyond it! What Raphael does with the crown in Avernus doesn't matter when he can help secure a life after this!" Gesturing between you, you add, "A life for us!"

The anger pressing against the room pops at that statement. Gale's shoulders slump, pinched expression turning to something soft before he rubs a hand over his face, running fingers through his hair. You exhale heavily, feeling pressure behind your eyes but determined to not let the tears fall.

This was stupid. All of this was stupid.

Crossing to the small desk in the corner of the room, Gale presses his palms against the rough wood and exhales heavily. "It is such a dangerous game, isn't it?" His voice is quiet, reserved. "We put one foot just one centimeter to the left and we all fall to our doom."

"I just want us alive, Gale." You swallow down the tightening of your throat, the tears stinging your eyes. "I never wanted to have the fate of an old, dangerous crown in my hands. I don't have the capacity to see the consequences of what could happen hundreds of years from now. But I know if I don't do something right now, we're dead. More than dead."

"I know." His eyes are locked onto the grooves of the table. "I know."

Slowly, you move to stand behind him. Slowly, you lay a hand between his shoulder blades. "We know where Raphael keeps all his things. Including that contract."

You feel his chest expand with an inhale. "You want to steal your contract?"

"And tear it up. The object I bartered for is in there too."

Straightening, he turns to you, a range of emotions dancing in his eyes. "You are absolutely crazy. I mean, I know you've been for a while now, but..."

Looping your arms around his neck and pressing your body against his, you say softly against his lips, "Anything for our future, Gale."

A sound you've never heard before leaves his throat as he crushes his lips to yours, fingertips digging into your hips and roughly pushing them against his own. You respond in kind, nipping his bottom lip as you grind gently, smiling when you feel him through his clothing.

"You scare me, you know," he breathes, breath tickling your throat as he nips down your skin. "You're wild, and unpredictable." His teeth find your collarbone, sending a shiver straight down your spine, raising the heat between your legs. "I never know if you're a fool or playing a game of chess even I can't make heads or tails of."

His palms find your ass and squeeze, dragging a surprised yelp from you. Silencing your sound with his lips, he uses his grip to situate yourself perfectly as he grinds hard, up and down right against that nerve that makes you see stars.

Your hands slip under his robe, finding skin as you cling to him, already losing control as you meet his thrusts. Your pants are too much and too little, you want them off now but love the teasing, that delicious build in your stomach. Gale has never been so forceful, so demanding, and you tuck an internal sloppy note into your brain to rile him up more often.

His hands finally tug on the rim of your pants and you're quick to help, tossing them to the side as he hefts you onto the table, one hand up your shirt with fingers teasing a nipple as another frees his himself.

No playing this time around as he bites your bottom lip hard, sheathing himself in one quick thrust. Wrapping your legs around him, you urge him in deeper as he starts moving, a punishing pace that sends your heart skyrocketing, your moans loud as he claims you, the frustration from earlier riding his every movement.

You meet his pace just as fiercely, fingers tangling in his hair as he hits that spot again and again, not giving you time to breathe as the pleasure becomes nigh unbearable. You're close, so so close, just as he pauses, all movement coming to a halt.

You whimper, moving your hips for that last bit of friction needed to drive you over the edge, but his fingers dig in hard on your hips, keeping you in place. "Gale." His name is at once foreign and familiar in your lust hazed brain, focus solely on how right he feels even paused within you.

"Promise me," he pants, placing his forehead against yours, shifting ever so slightly to make you gasp. To beg. "You'll stop doing stupid things that scare me."

"I promise, I promise." You'd say anything to get him moving again, and he knows this.

"I have your word?"

"Yes," you plead. "Yes."

"Say it."

"You have my wo--"

He swallows your lies as he buries himself deep, swallows your gasp as he finally allows your release, holds you together as you shatter beneath him.

He rides out your orgasm. Slow, gentle thrusts as you piece yourself back together. As you realize that he hasn't followed you yet into ecstasy.

As you realize it's going to be a long night.