nwtbobsessedemo

[nwtbobsessedemo]

Nothing is Warmer Than Holding You

A/N: Inspo for this is simply that I’m cold and I like the idea of Mad just working his way into Mare’s jackets when he’s cold.

“You should have brought a jacket.”

Mad pouted at Mare’s words, wrapping his arms around himself in a futile effort to stay warm, glaring halfheartedly at his boyfriend rugged up in a thick woollen jacket and scarf.

“You should have brought a spare,” Mad rebutted, stepping forward to smash his face into Mare’s chest, sighing at the warmth that greeted him.

“I can’t remember everything, love,” Mare chuckled, wrapping his arms around Mad and holding him close. “You decided you wanted to go on this trip without a jacket in the middle of fall.”

Mad grumbled something unintelligible, bristling against Mare’s jacket when the musician laughed. Uncurling his arms, he tucked his fingers into the collar of Mare’s jacket, chasing the warmth that he found there.

“What are you up to, dear heart?” Mare asked in amusement, hold loosening on Mad as the scientist slowly undid the buttons on his jacket. “I’m not giving up my jacket for you to get—”

Instead of wrenching the jacket off Mare’s form, Mad slipped his arms around Mare’s waist, burying his face into his chest beneath the jacket.

“I’m not asking to take your jacket,” Mad said against the thick fabric of Mare’s shirt. “I just want to be near you, because you’re warm.”

Mare paused for a second, staring incredulously at the man pressed against him, then shook his head and pulled the front of his jacket around to cover Mad completely, hugging him close as Mad hummed happily.

“You’re adorable, and lucky this jacket is oversized,” Mare commented, hands moving to the backs of Mad’s thighs to encourage him to hop up and be carried. “I’m carrying you back to the cabin like this.”

Mad made no effort to protest, adjusting himself to nestle his face into the crook of Mare’s shoulder as Mare gently carried him back to the cabin.

Maybe he should forget to bring a jacket more often.

——————-

@iamvegorott @brokentimewatch @dungeon-dragons-dragons @rattyboyisemo

#this is so cute #nwtb fanfiction #madmare #being handmade by Anti himself Mare’s jacket is designed to hold a Mad as well #<- i love that #not my writing

[nwtbobsessedemo]

being back in their childhood bodies feels like wearing a quickly rotting corpse, lucy thinks not for the first time.

everything feels stiff, their adult death locking every joint with keys forever lost to them. peter's shoulders knock into every doorframe and corner no matter how much he presses his thumbs into the resulting bruises whispering curses. susan's hands violently shake around any object she dares to hold as though all muscles have long atrophied in this grave that calls itself england. for weeks, edmund falls down the stairs each morning, his feet uncoordinated and legs never long enough for the proud strides he tries to take.

lucy can't spin without getting dizzy. her body moves nothing like the years of grace she'd grown into. it tastes like decay, every time she lands on the floor, robbed of a living, worn-in self and caged in something that should have died decades ago; decomposing around their souls as though to mark their loss with the biggest insult this world could give.

she has half a mind to bury her siblings and herself beneath the sprawling green of the professor's lands—so that they might cease to drag their undead feet beneath their mourning minds and perhaps even finally find rest. she's tired of the sleepless nights, truly. tired of seeing edmund writing missives to politicians that would never be read, tired of watching susan bite her lip when yet another cup of tea spills down her dress, tired of watching peter sob over his bruises when he thinks they cannot hear.

lucy is tired of it all. she'd rather be dead, she thinks not once or twice but many times, even as she knows that burying themselves in english soil won't make their long-dead bodies bloom with narnian flowers.

she can hope, anyhow.

#this is so despairing #i love the image of their bodies decaying as theyre being forced to use them #peter pevensie #susan pevensie #edmund pevensie #lucy pevensie #the chronicles of narnia

[nwtbobsessedemo]

You don’t say.

[nwtbobsessedemo]

Here me out, but Joe Locke as Prince Caspian/Dawn Treader-era Edmund

#YES ABSOLUTELY #narnia #edmund pevensie

[nwtbobsessedemo]

[nwtbobsessedemo]

Okay the director's cut of the retirement is really helpful, but it is long. I was wondering a lot about the catalogue sale and what it means in the practical, so here are some highlight points!

Nate doesn't want people to change their listening habits, because he already very much got the bag for it

His music is unlikely to be removed from any platforms (though theoretically Nate doesn't have control over that anymore. But literally, having it up is the reason the buyer bought it)

He only sold only his share of the music. The shares of guest vocalists, Shawn's share on production, etc. still go to their respective owners, so the music still supports it's creators

Not all songs were included in the deal, mostly for practical back end reasons

He also owns everything from To Let Go onwards and anything he releases in the future

Physical releases still support him, and the planned vinyl releases are still happening

The online instrumental sales will be discontinued as those aren't his revenue anymore

The songs may now be licensed out through the connections that the buyer has (so, they may show up in video games, movies, etc. that they wouldn't have before), or show up in other ways to promote it. This has to be run by Nate first, though he's not in control of it

This won't affect tours or the catalogue he can perform (but he's not planning on touring)

New music will still happen, but only on his terms. Might not happen under the name NateWantsToBattle

Currently no details on if his music can be used for streaming backgrounds, etc. but tetchnically he should have control over this

Nate got the value he wanted out of the deal

Covers are still allowed (though yt content ID system is still gonna fuck you over, and the owner might have some differing policy stuff)

Give Heart Records is moving forwards already and Nate will still be working on stuff there

#i havent gotten around to watching the directors cut yet so thanks #Natewantstobattle #nathan sharp #natewantstobtl #nwtb

[nwtbobsessedemo]

MadPat Headcanons

MadPat is quite a unique person

He’s half human and half demon

Specifically, half fire demon

Never knew who his birth parents were

Mad was adopted by a man named William Afton from a young age, who later abandoned Mad altogether when William’s first biological child was born, named Micheal

Mad’s legal name is Madrick Afton

He picked up his skill for inventing and building from William, or rather, William’s friend, Henry Emily

Henry offered to teach Mad to build

So that’s how he learned

After Mad was abandoned by William, he was already 17 years old

Mad had broken into a home to stay in

It was abandoned and basically entirely empty, so he decided to stay there until he could afford a home

Mad didn’t know he was half demon at all until he turned 23 years old

While he was building his precious flamethrower chainsaw (who he named Rex) one of the pieces of it malfunctioned, causing a fire in Mad’s basement which was where he built his creations

Mad grabbed his chainsaw from the flames, and to his surprise and shock… he didn’t get burned

Well, he did get burned, it just didn’t hurt

Mad couldn’t feel it

Which in his mind, negated the fact he was burnt in the first place

Were he fully a fire demon, then he would have full immunity to flames, but since he’s half human, he doesn’t feel pain from fire, it just burns him

Because of that he gets very reckless whenever anything involves fire

Mad got employed at a local Freddy Fazbear’s location, and quickly rose to the position of manager/boss

In general, Mad always disregarded things like laws

He killed and dissected animals as a child since he found it interesting and didn’t ever feel any remorse for it

He was just learning new things, who could fault him for it?

That later progressed to murder when he got older

He did a few dissections, but he found that he preferred the actual act of murdering humans more enjoyable

He has done many experiments on them, and loves to include fire as he can control it

Mad thinks that charred human flesh tastes pretty good, all things considered

He killed four kids after luring them from his Fazbear’s location

Mad was very surprised when they’d possessed the animatronic puppets that his restaurant used

He had treated them relatively well after they died since he couldn’t do anything about them possessing his puppets

Later hired Sol (Night Guard Mark) after Nyx (Night Guard Nate) left the restaurant

Leading to the events of FNaF the Musical

Mad now has burn scars over most of his body due to the fire at the end of Night 5, even if he couldn’t feel the fire burning him

Mad ended up in prison (which he quickly broke out of)

Now he’s looking for Nyx and Sol, to get his revenge on them

Although he does commit the occasional murder, arson, kidnapping and human experimentation while doing that

@nwtbobsessedemo @flaming-dolph16 @colourfulmes @bondoes-art

#MatPat #matthew patrick #Matthew Patrick MatPat #madpat #game theory #Madpat ego #matpat egos #YouTuber egos

[nwtbobsessedemo]

As If You Were My Own

Read on AO3!

A/N: Booky, why do you want to associate Mare with cherry blossoms? What's this headcanon you have? Well, let's start from the beginning, shall we, with Night first finding the twins and deciding to adopt them.

--

There was a certain… appeal to strolling parks during the new moon. The lack of moonlight added a sense of mysticism to an otherwise bland area people acclaimed as tourist travel points. Shadows were just points of gloom, illuminated only by the stars against the navy backdrop of night.

To Night personally, he never understood how a field of various trees and flora could give people such amazement, but walking down the paths, illuminated by faint starlight, the god realised there was an enchantment to the place that captivated him. He found himself whistling softly as he admired the way the flowers closed their petals to turn away from the darkness, leaves reflecting the dim light as he passed them.

He paused by a large cherry blossom tree, tilting his head to locate the faint cries he heard beside him. Clasping his hands behind his back, Night slowly stepped off the path toward the roots of the tree, pushing aside drooping branches to see two tiny bundles huddled beneath the ivory canopy of blooms.

Swaddled in thick blankets, two pairs of watery eyes stared up at Night, framed by sickly pale skin and tangled mops of jet-black hair. Twins, he realised, barely a year old, holding tightly to each other to preserve the warmth they hardly retained, watching him with red and purple eyes.

“Oh, you poor things,” Night breathed, crouching down in front of them, holding his hands out when they jerked back slightly. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just need to see if you’re harmed in any way.” Reaching forward slowly, he scooped the two infants into his arms, casting a quick look over their bodies before holding them close to his jacket, catching sight of a small note where the twins had been laying and picking it up before sending them all back to his place.

--

Mare and Phantom, I apologise that I cannot care for you. I hope that you will find someone to love and care for you the way I had wanted. Look after each other.

Night curled his lip as he read the note, glancing over his shoulder at the twins sitting on his couch, wrapped in warm blankets with tiny rompers covering their shivering forms, drinking warm milk from bottles that Day had left over when she walked out on him.

“Mare and Phantom,” Night mumbled, tilting his head when the children looked up in response to their names. “Cold and alone beneath the cherry blossom tree. Whatever will I do with you two?”

Waving his hand, he summoned two small plush toys: a little red dragon and a purple treble clef and set them on the table in front of the twins, waiting to see who chose what. The boy with purple eyes reached for the clef, handing the dragon to his brother, and Night sat on the ground in front of them with a thoughtful smile.

“Mare,” he started, seeing the clef child perk up, then pointed to his brother. “And Phantom. The world is a cold and cruel place, filled with people who are equally cold and cruel. And in the grand scheme of things, you fell into my path.”

Mare tilted his head in confusion, fingers twisting around the tail of his treble clef, and Night paused when he noticed the toy slowly starting to crumble and decay under Mare’s ministrations. Just as he was about to take the toy away, Phantom burped, a tiny cloud of red vapour leaving his mouth and floating into the air, lazily forming various shapes before dissipating.

“Powers,” Night breathed, leaning back and flicking his wrist to summon a cloth to clean the twins. “And at such a young age. Gifted children, barely with control of their abilities. What creatures are you?”

At that moment, Mare’s toy crumbled completely into dust, and the child began to wail, purple smoke crawling up the walls at his cries. Seeing his brother upset, Phantom started to cry as well, and Night watched in curious shock as the pile of dust in Mare’s lap slowly swirled into the air above them, reforming into the treble clef before falling back into Mare’s lap.

The abnormality of the events spurred by the twin’s emotions made Night pause, reaching out to gently soothe the infants, watching as the smoke slowly dispersed as he comforted Mare, pulling the twins into his arms and cooing softly to stop their tears.

“You are wonders of the world,” Night whispered, feeling a strange pull in his heart to protect these children at all costs. “You could bring about absolute peace or absolute chaos, and you need to be trained. Maybe that’s why I found you.”

--

Setting the twins down in the bed of the nursery he created, Night gently brushed a finger over first Mare’s cheek then Phantom’s, letting a small smile cross his face as he watched the peaceful expressions of the brothers. They slept close together, Phantom holding Mare’s clothes in a loose grip as he curled around his brother.

“I will raise and train you to understand how your chaos magic works,” Night vowed quietly, tapping the hanging mobile over their heads to make it slowly start turning. “You need not worry about being alone again, because I will care for you as if you were my own.”

He leaned down to kiss the twins, then straightened up and left the room, making a note to buy food and clothes for his new children, ignoring the warmth that filled his chest at being able to call something his again.

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

@iamvegorott @brokentimewatch @dungeon-dragons-dragons @rattyboyisemo

#this is so cute!!! #nwtb fanfiction #writing #papa Night AU #god of night #should i actually make a proper au of this? #<- yes yes yes yes yes please do i love this

[nwtbobsessedemo]

Susan did not see Peter in battle for years—arriving to his stand against Jadis almost too late, catching up while he picked himself up from the torn earth, on the other side of the conflict when the remnants of Jadis’ army tried their luck at the Cair. Sure, she knew he fought and killed, just as she did, just as Edmund and Lucy did—and oh, how Susan loathes that last part, but Lucy had been the one to find the first assassin in their halls and there was nothing to be done about it now. There was entirely too much death in their first year, Susan thinks, the fairytale shine of Narnia soon breaking apart and leaving a country and people in desperate need of rest and time behind. It took her days to get the blood out underneath her and Lucy’s fingernails, and she knew Peter had just as bad a time with Edmund next door. With a lump in her throat, Susan wondered often if this was to be the rest of their lives: washing themselves clean of battles that were forced upon them by a world far too big for their hands to hold. But even then, with the bloodied waters between them all, she never truly saw Peter in battle. A slain Maugrim who had about as much a part in his own death as Peter’s shaking sword did, a witch that Susan never saw die, assassins that ended up on the moth-eaten carpets she had found in old storage rooms; things that should give her pause but she simply couldn’t consider for long with all there was to do. They had killed to end up where they were, and Susan knew deep down that they would have to kill to stay, too. Now, standing with her bow held tight and a quiver empty of arrows, a sword at her side she has yet to finish learning how to swing, Susan finds herself in a pocket of tar-slow time. Here, she stands with a muddied hemline and their castle once more under siege—unknown foes, but foes all the same—and there, across the way, with his hair longer than Susan has ever known him to have, Peter lets out a roaring laugh. Rhindon is far out of sight, a glaive taking its place in Peter’s steady hands. Even from afar, Susan feels it in her bones when Peter’s swing launches an enemy’s torn body across the field. There are bodies, horror-frozen faces, the stench of blood and bile. The steps to the Cair will perhaps forever bear the stain of this assault. They have lost people they held dear. Susan has wept enough to fill an ocean. And Peter laughs. With storm-eyes, bloodied tongue, and bared teeth, her older brother wages joyous war.

#narnia #susan pevensie #peter pevensie #the chronicles of narnia #chronicles of narnia #not my writing

[nwtbobsessedemo]

[nwtbobsessedemo]

Lord pls someone rp with me

#this is so funny

[nwtbobsessedemo]

Please don’t let fandom ruin something you love. Walk away and unfollow the fans and enjoy the thing by yourself, or find a limited circle of people who ignore the discourse, or get your irl friends into the thing and collectively ignore the Internet community, or blacklist from here to the moon if you need to and only ever scroll through your rarepair ship’s tag on AO3. But don’t let fandom distort a show or a movie or a book or a comic you used to love so badly that you can’t enjoy the original anymore. Please. It isn’t worth it.

[nwtbobsessedemo]

Sharper Headcanons

Sharper's a regular human

Although now, due to an experiment gone wrong, he got his arms and his legs replaced with a mix of metal and his own flesh, basically prosthetics

Very advanced ones, as he's a scientist and inventor and made them himself

He can feel through them, and they usually look exactly like regular limbs

That stays true even if others touch them, though you could probably feel the wires and circuitry in his arms/legs if you pressed down hard enough

Even though they do have machinery in them, they do still have human flesh and tissues

Hence in Take Me Anywhere where his body and the wires/circuits seem to be one whenever he's injured

Because, well, they are one

Sharper has a tendency to get hurt on accident a whole lot

That damages his prosthetics and exposes the circuitry underneath them

Which to him hurts just as much as a wound of whatever caliber it is would hurt to a normal human

A master at inventing and chemistry

In fact, once he had a whole company

It was called Sharper Industries. He unfortunately shut down his company after getting very addicted to his own invention: The Sharper Industries Immersion Tube, and the Hallucina-Puff Memory Gas that allowed the tube to work

Sharper hadn't completely made sure that the Memory Gas was perfected before he started producing and selling the Immersion Tube to the public, hence the "Excessive exposure to HPMG may damage some to all brain function" warning on the product

The reason Sharper got so addicted to it was after his ex-girlfriend, Jessica (whom he was on good terms with before her passing) died in a car crash during a storm while going to visit her family

Sharper, even with all his life-altering and potentially life-saving inventions, couldn't save her

Due to all his guilt about the accident and his belief that he could've done something to change it, he obsessively enters an Immersion Tube that he had installed at his home

Just to see her again

Over and over and over and over

Sharper couldn't stop thinking about Jessica and what he could've done to help her, even if he was the head of a wealthy company and, by all accounts from everyone around him, "needed to move on," Sharper couldn't

Not yet

His addiction to the Immersion Tube ended up nearly killing him

Sharper realized this due to his worsening health, worsening immune system, extreme memory issues, frequent migraines, flashbacks, and emotional instability

So he stopped using his Immersion Tube, and shut down his company. At the time it was just an extended leave, but without their founder, the company started to fall into disrepair quickly

By the time we see him in Take Me Anywhere, he's gotten over the majority of his addiction to HPMG

Although Sharper still goes occasionally have withdrawal (I have no idea if this is how addiction works so if I get anything wrong I apologize)

What Sharper hasn't gotten over however is Jessica and her death

At that time, he is now attempting to create a "perfect version" of HPMG in his personal lab

Well

More abandoned warehouse which Sharper has repurposed into his home and current laboratory

Yeah he just kind of found it abandoned, moved his stuff in, and was like "Alright this is my home now, I can conduct my research without interruption!"

Sharper hasn't gotten extraordinarily far in his perfect HPMG research, but has certainly made lots of progress

There was an unexpected side effect of one of his test versions of his altered HPMG

When he took it, all the injuries he had at the time were healed immediately

No matter the severity

While it worked wonders for physical injuries, it didn't work so well for mental ones

He is very, very determined to get there one day, to the perfect version. If not for him, then for Jessica

@nwtbobsessedemo @bondoes-art @themoonisrotting @colourfulmes @nightshade-error @flaming-dolph16

#i love this #and i love that you connected it with all i see #i remember seeing loads of theories about how the music videos were connected but not in a while #natewantstobattle #nathan sharp #nwtb #natewantstobtl #natewantstobattle egos #nwtb egos #sharper nwtb #youtuber egos

[nwtbobsessedemo]

[nwtbobsessedemo]

In the movie verse of LWW, the wardrobe is covered in carvings of Digory's adventures, including, in the bottom left corner on the front, a picture of Jadis. So, how long do you think it took them to notice it there and ask Digory for the stories. And then, how much time do you think they spent in the wardrobe room listening to his own adventures while looking at the carvings?

#narnia #the lion the witch and the wardrobe #the lion the witch and the wardrobe movie #the magicians nephew #digory kirke #the pevensies

[nwtbobsessedemo]

i hear a good lyric and start mentally holding up blorbos like im in the home depot paint aisle comparing swatches

#literally me all the time #im also writing a play with my friend so im always trying to compare songs to my characters

[nwtbobsessedemo]

Peter writes home from the battlefield every chance he can.

Lucy's letters are full of barely rhyming, rambling poetry, talk of stars and trees and any plants or animals he's seen. He puts in all the words that will never describe any of this, but still there is a great sky above him, and a big heart in his chest, and he hopes she will understand. She could if anyone can.

To Edmund he sends the muddy, bloody, wobbly-writing letters, the ones with rambling memories of Narnian battles and strategy, though he takes care to phrase it as 'playing in the woods', not wanting the censors to get leery. There are also many theological musings, and usually the continuation of whatever Bible verse Ed has sent in his letter. I wish you were here, and yet I am glad you are not, is a sentiment oft repeated.

Susan and Mother usually get the same letter, little stories of kindness shown or soft things appreciated. He asks them for more socks for Jackie, an extra bar of chocolate for Hamish, tells them how he's gotten his whole unit to memorize the Jabberwocky poem, and they make each other smile with it.

Dad is usually named with Susan and Mother, but sometimes he gets an extra scribble, usually a single scripture reference, or the name of a local boy now dead, and a few things Peter asks him to go tell the family.

Eustace gets the occasional missive folded in with the rest, usually sketches of aeroplanes, with which Eustace is fascinated, though they aren't very good sketches. If there's a sketch for Eustace, there is usually also a sketch for Jill, something Narnian, a sword or a forest or a castle.

Professor Kirke only gets occasional letters, usually short and to the point, but written in particularly formal language, as of a king writing to a dear advisor.

They all write to Peter.

Professor Kirke sends exerpts of whatever philosophy or theology or history books he just happens to be reading at the time he remembers to write. Sometimes it seems very random to Peter, but he loves it.

Eustace's letters are infrequent, but burst with colourful descriptions of his school life that make Peter laugh.

Dad usually just scribbles scripture references at the bottom of Mother's letters. Susan signs those too. Mother's letters are full of ordinary home life, rich with the warmth of hearthlight and fresh baking and good books and comfortable chairs and a much loved old quilt. She says what everyone is doing much more clearly, tells how the garden is coming in.

Mother and Susan are also very good at writing to the boys who don't have anyone to write to them. (Peter has a picture of his family, and everyone in Peter's unit thinks Susan is the prettiest girl in Europe, that she should be a queen, but they all watch what they say around Peter, they know how he feels about his sister's honour. But it really does bring up morale.)

Edmund doesn't usually say a lot, but he's regular, always engaging with whatever musings Peter put in his previous letter, making some of his own references to Narnia, usually to things Oreius taught them, and always concluding with a Bible verse. Half the time Ed absently addresses the missive To High King Peter, my brother... He never actually says I'll find you when I join up, I promise, it's just sort of there, between the lines.

Lucy's letters are like blue sky and fresh air and a fierce hug. Sometimes Peter can almost smell Narnia on the paper. They're not long, but she says I love you all the time, and talks of the weather and the flowers, and the girls at school who are struggling, and how she's trying to help them, and there's always a bit of poetry or a hymn that she's written, but it's actually good, compared to Peter's stuff. Courage, dearest brother, she always says. Remember the Lion, she always finishes.

Peter gets so many letters he has to start sending them back to his family for safe keeping.

#peter pevensie #friends of narnia #pevensie family #world war ii #narnia fanfiction #narnia #not my writing