#But SEVEN?? Jeezus

[please-picturemeintheweeds]

I just smoked then ate 7 rolls of smarties

[shards-of-realities-blog]

Ew someone spelled my name wrong again

[roastyoualive-archive]

Penny has died.

“…..has died.” finish it in my ask. || Accepting

… when turned fifty degrees past calibration, will result in a polari– 

Snap. Warren frowned down at the broken pencil lead. Ah, well. That’s what he had extras for. He grabbed one of the two spares from the corner of his workspace and resumed his note-taking. Every now and again, he’d glance up at the blackboard. While some people might question his teaching methods, nobody could say Medulla didn’t know what he was talking about. He was a supergenius, after all. 

He’d been in the middle of double-checking his spelling of the inventor of the first shrink ray (Russian phonics were different than any he’d worked with, before) when a knock on the door stopped the lecture. Warren only spared it the barest glance. 

“Yes?” Medulla sounded annoyed. Warren could relate, but decided to salvage the situation. As Medulla stepped outside to speak with whoever it was - offering a ‘one moment, class’ over his shoulder - Warren reached down to rummage through his bag. He’d scrounged together enough spare cash to buy a set of highlighters from the dollar store, so, depending on how long this took, he might be able to get a head start on colour-coding his notes–

“Mister Peace.” He looked up. People were looking at him, now. A glance to the side showed him Will quickly averting his eyes. As Warren sat up, he returned his own gaze to the door. Mr. Medulla stood with a decidedly unreadable expression on his face. Beside him was one of the office attendants. The, uh, the jumpy one, what was her name… Mrs. Springer. 

“… Yeah?” He said when the silence stretched. 

“You’re being requested at the office.” Warren rolled his eyes almost before Medulla had even finished speaking. Of course he was. He shot an irritated grimace at the desk as he pushed himself to stand, bracing his hands on the smooth wooden surface. 

“And, Mister Peace?” Medulla spoke again. Warren straightened with a huff of breath and an arched brow. 

“Yeah?” He repeated. Mrs, Springer shot an anxious glance to Medulla. Warren felt like he wasn’t supposed to notice, but he did. 

“You- Might want to bring your bag, dear.” She said it in the sort of tone you’d expect a grandmother to have. That didn’t make this any less of a headache. He was fluent in teacher, by now. That meant ‘don’t expect to come back, kid’. He shoved his book into his bag, briefly wondering who he’d have to ask to copy their notes. Probably Will. Speaking of- 

“What did you do?” He asked, voice barely over a whisper. Warren shrugged and shook his head, doing his best to convey ‘I don’t know!’ in a gesture. He hauled his bag up by one strap and walked through the silent classroom and out into the hall. As he passed, Mr. Medulla looked like he wanted to say something. Warren paused. A beat of silence, before Medulla shook his head and closed the door. As it clicked, Warren could faintly hear him returning to the lecture with an apology for the interruption. Damn. He hoped this wouldn’t be on the test - or maybe he could ask for a make-up lecture at lunch? … Probably not. Especially not if he was in trouble. Guess he could always check the library. 

The walk to the office was silent. So silent, in fact, he could hear his sneakers against the tiled floor just as well as her heels. Springer seemed more nervous than usual. She wouldn’t stop fiddling, either with her glasses, a stray piece of hair, or the manila folder of paperwork she seemed to have perpetually clutched to her chest. … She seemed scared. Of him? Did she honestly think he’d attack a teacher? (Or- secretary?) …. Scratch that. Baron Battle’s kid. Of course she’d think something like that, never mind the fact he’d never done that kind of thing in his life. (Thanks, Dad.) He decided to think about something else. Like what they could possibly be pinning on him, this time. He honestly had no idea. He hadn’t gotten into any fights, or even any arguments lately, didn’t make a headache of himself in class… Didn’t cheat on tests or plagiarize his work, and ever since sixth grade had made a point of keeping his rough drafts and research notes to prove it… Didn’t destroy any more property than normal in STC (and had not, thank you very much, set Boomer on fire again). Yeah, he had no idea. He figured he had to be getting blamed for someone else’s handiwork. Again. Whatever. The nice thing about having friends (or, one of the nice things) was that, hopefully, at least one of the others would be willing and able to vouch for his innocence. That should speed things along. Maybe he’d be able to catch the tail end of the lecture, after all. 

Springer opened the door for him, and he gave her a small nod of thanks. Received a watery, shaky smile in return. Geez, she looked like she was about to cry. Was she really that scared of him? They’d barely ever even spoken, before! It didn’t put him in the best mood as he stepped into the office. Principal Powers was at her desk. For some reason, she looked older than she had when he’d passed her in the hall, that morning. He wasn’t really sure why. Didn’t think about it long after he saw the person sitting beside her. A man, broad in the shoulders, in a formal black suit. Short hair, dark glasses, ear piece. A Fed, by the looks of it. It took a concentrated effort not to scowl. Had to be about Dad. Because, you know, a fifteen-year-old highschooler in California absolutely had control over what happened up at NAPSE. He’d handled this before. Just give him your statement, get your alibi verified, get back to class. Hopefully it wouldn’t take as long to process as it had, last time. The suit started to ask a question - ‘Are you–’ but clammed up as soon as he saw Warren’s face. Just nodded to himself in silent confirmation. Warren warily set his bag down by the door and crossed his arms over his chest, hovering by the door. 

“Uhm-” Mrs. Springer broke the silence. All three sets of eyes - Powers, Warren, and the Suit’s sunglasses - turned to her. She gulped, stared at the floor, and shut the door with a nervous laugh before scurrying off down the hall. Warren furrowed his brow. Sheesh, and he thought he was bad with social situations.

“Warren?” Principal Powers spoke, and he looked up. First names? Weird. “This,” she continued, gesturing to the suit, “is Mr. Stern, from the Agency’s head office.” Warren’s brows raised, and he blinked. The Agency? What the hell did they want? No Agent had tried to get in contact with the Peaces since Mom went inactive. Were they trying to hire her, again? To hire him? He wasn’t even licensed, yet. That couldn’t be it. … It looked like they were waiting for him to say something.

“Hey.” Warren greeted lamely. He kept studying the Agent, trying to get a read on him. No luck. Not surprising. 

“Would you take a seat, son?” The Agent - Stern - said, nodding to a chair opposite the desk. Warren glanced to the chair, leaning away to get a better look at it and swallowing a comment about how Stern wasn’t his dad. Probably better to not make this worse. Instead, he said nothing and did sit down, but kept his eyes on the two adults. This was so weird. It only got weirder when Stern reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a huge, white rectangle that almost reminded Warren of an overgrown bar of soap. He flicked a switch on the side, the box made a short whirring noise, and Powers gave the Agent what Warren thought would have been an exasperated look, if she’d had the energy. (Why was she so tired? Did the staff coffee machine break, or something?) She didn’t stop him, though. There was a brief moment when the air felt charged with static. It faded quickly enough, but not before piquing Warren’s curiosity. He wanted to reach over to the box and see what it was. He decided against doing so and kept his arms crossed, hands tucked in. Stared silently at Stern, waiting for an explanation. 

“Son,” Stern began again, shifting to a more comfortable position in his chair. Warren leaned back slightly in his. “I’m afraid I have some bad news.” A part of Warren very much wanted to be sarcastic. It was drowned out by the chill that raced down his spine. 

“… What kind of news?” He sat up slowly. His hands gripped the armrests of his chair a bit tighter than he realized. Stern sighed.

“It’s about your mother.” 

Warren felt the school rock beneath him. Mom?

“What…?” The air was suddenly too thick for him to get any other words out. In the corner of his eye, he could make out Powers standing up, but he was too focused on Stern to care. No, no, no no no….

“This afternoon, at 1:45 PM, your mother was on her way home from work.”

No.

(It was so cold.)

“… Am I correct to assume you’ve seen the news? About Voltage?”

No.

(Yes.) (He didn’t answer.)

“We have reason to believe that your mother intervened in one of their attacks.” 

No. 

(Please, no.)

(This wasn’t real.)

(Not Mom.)

“And…” Stern trailed off. Warren kept staring, unaware that he was shaking his head in silent denial. 

Please.

Stern sighed. 

“I’m so sorry, son.” 

Sorry?! What did that-?! He didn’t even remember standing up, but the chair that clattered to the ground behind him let him know that he must’ve. It wasn’t true. It wasn’t. It was some sick joke, some sort of- Some- It wasn’t-! It couldn’t be, not Mom-! 

“You’re lying!” He wasn’t aware of the break in his voice. He was aware that there was no fire in his hands. Tried again. Nothing. Powers and Stern were standing now. If he’d been more coherent, he might have realized his lack of abilities came from that box. But he wasn’t thinking about that. Only about getting the truth out of Stern. 

To the Agent’s credit, he didn’t flinch when Warren shoved him against the wall. Didn’t fight back, didn’t struggle, didn’t even react aside from re-adjusting his glasses when they got knocked askew. 

“Where is she?!” Warren demanded, yanking on fistfuls of Stern’s jacket collar. “Where’s my mom?!” His vision blurred. It had to be from adrenaline, right? Not from how much he was crying. (’Boys aren’t supposed to cry, Warren’ a voice from first grade whispered.)

“Diana.” Stern held up a cautioning hand over Warren’s shoulder. Warren glanced back - Powers. It looked like she’d been reaching out to them. He exhaled a shaky breath, then roughly dropped Stern and took a step back. His lungs drew in air at a ragged, irregular rate and he sniffed but didn’t wipe his eyes. Only stared, hands still flexed against the humming white box, as the Agent calmly dusted himself off.

(’It’s okay, sweetheart.’ Said a voice he’d never hear again. ‘Everything’s gonna be okay. We still have each other, right?’)

Wrong.

He tried another gulp of air and failed. Squeezed his eyes shut, His voice sounded so small when he spoke.

“Where’es my mom…?” A hand on his shoulder. Warren flinched back. Stern was in front of him, looking down through impassive glasses.

He didn’t even care.

“Come with me.” 

…

He felt numb. 

They’d taken him off in an Agency aircraft. They’d sent someone to collect his things and he hadn’t said a word since they’d left the office, only clung to himself desperately like it might offer some form of comfort and it didn’t. (She was gone. She was gone she was gone why was she gone?) They’d landed in a secure location and he’d asked if they were going to a hospital but Stern had said there’d be no point. No point? Nobody would even tell him what happened. What did ‘no point’ mean? Sure, hospitals were expensive, but- But he would’ve given the shirt off his back if it meant she was okay. He’d have spent every day for the rest of his life at work, he’d cut down on food, he’d- He’d take a page from Dad’s book and rob a bank, anything as long as she’d be around at the end of the day, but- But there was no point. He should’ve been there. He should’ve saved her. He should’ve died, instead. She’d always been there for him. She’d done everything for him, and he couldn’t do one damn thing for her. Walking home from work, they’d said. She wouldn’t have needed that job if he hadn’t been around. She wouldn’t have lost her old one if she hadn’t needed to take care of him. It was his fault she was dead. It was his fault he lost the only person who ever really gave a damn. His mom was gone because of him.

“We’ve contacted your next of kin,” Agent Stern said. Warren numbly looked up from the chair he was in. At some point, someone must’ve put a blanket around his shoulders. He didn’t remember it getting there. “Your uncle has agreed to take you in.” The gentleness sounded alien and forced in the Agent’s voice. A thought broke through the grief:

I have an uncle?

Warren didn’t say anything, though. Only stared.

“Nicholas Peace?” Stern said, as though expecting that to jog some memory. “Your mother’s brother?” 

Mom had a brother?

Had. Past-tense. Mom had a brother. Just like Warren had a mom. Where had this ‘uncle’ been for the past forever? Why was he stepping in now? A man came into the room behind Stern. Neatly combed brown hair, blue eyes, a suit that looked like it cost more than Warren’s entire apartment. Dress code aside, he looked a lot like Mom. Warren’s chest constricted painfully and he looked away. Swallowed a lump in his throat that might’ve been a sob if he let it. Mom was gone. His mom was gone and it was his fault and now he was being shoved off on someone who wouldn’t want anything to do with the kid who killed his sister. Warren wouldn’t want anything to do with himself, either. He just wanted everything to stop.

The funeral was small and quiet. The sun was shining, and Warren, from where he stood alone, idly thought that Mom would’ve liked it. She’d loved the sun. The marble headstone could’ve covered the Peaces’ food budget for a month, easily. A simple epitaph graced its surface. 

Penelope Anne Peace

October 12, 1972 - November 4, 2005

Beloved mother, sister, friend. 

What a joke, Warren thought bitterly. He stared silently at the freshly-turned earth, blinking against tears that had long since been spent. Nobody else had come. Just him, and his… Uncle. Cousin and Aunt, too, but they were doing a poor job of disguising how bored they were. How dare they. How dare the three of them make light of this-? Mom deserved so much better. She deserved a better family than them and a better son than him and better friends than the ones who couldn’t be bothered to make an appearance. Not here, and not when they cleaned the apartment. Nicholas had sent people to do it, but Warren had insisted on being there. Had made sure to gather every single item of importance himself. … It had always seemed like such a cramped space, before. But now- It felt huge. It felt empty. It felt cold. It felt lonely. It was a feeling that followed him no matter where he went. 

Not school, though. Mainly because he didn’t go back. Not the next day. Not the day after that. (He couldn’t take it, any more.)

(Sorry, Mom.)

“Hey, guys!” Will said, weaving his way through the cafeteria to their usual table.

“Hey, man!” Zach reached up a hand for a high-five, and Will obliged, making sure not to drop his tray. He slid into a seat between Ethan and Layla. 

“How’d the history test go?” Layla asked, popping a kale chip into her mouth. Will shrugged.

“I think I passed?” He offered. “I mean, I did study, and I think I did well, but-” He glanced around, looking for a change of subject (the last thing he wanted to do was stress even more about that test. He’d been worrying all week). “So, uh- Has anyone seen Warren? I’ve still got his science notes from the last few classes, and…” The table went silent. Will looked around. “What?” Everyone seemed to be staring at their food. Layla put a hand on his arm.

“Will…” She began. Will frowned. 

“Yeah…?” It was Magenta who answered. (She’d heard the news, first.)

“… His mom died.” She said, putting her fork down. Will felt the colour drain from his face.

“Wh-? Oh, my god…”

That was the first piece of news that would reach Sky High regarding the disappearance of Warren Peace. 

The second fact was that the lavish estate of Nicholas Peace, practicing attorney, had burned to the ground completely. Thankfully, no casualties had yet been discovered, but a few of the staff were suffering serious injuries.

Next, the student body learned that, some time ago, Baron Battle had escaped from NAPSE, leaving a trail of immolated corpses and chaos in his wake before apparently vanishing off of the face of the Earth. Nobody knew how he’d gotten out. Nobody knew where he’d gone.

All they knew was that, wherever he was,

it looked as though he’d taken his son with him. 

[nyan-ryder]

I think I broke the Nomes

[thesehauntedhills]

𝗗𝗘𝗕𝗨𝗡𝗞𝗘𝗗 ❌ 𝗖𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗘

I was fascinated with this story but I thought, maybe it's a guy I a costume so... I investigate it using the only thing I have the photo...

While messing around with filters, I noticed something... It looks like there is nothing below the waist. A puppet perhaps.

After enlightening it as much as I could, I believe I can see a boy standing w his bike right behind this thing.

And another friend with a mustache bent at the waste (like a seven 7) peeking around the boy w the bike.

JEEZUS, REALLY GUYS

[nothinglost1976]

I feel like my life at this point has been a huge FUCK YOU. Like what the fuck, man? First off my sperm donor got married to a girl whose six/seven years younger than me? Didn’t even invite me to the wedding (not that i really care) and this morning I find out that his dumb fucking ass is having a kid when he’s like 53/54 fucking years old?! Jeezus fuck, dude. You couldn’t take care of me and I’m your first born. You keep popping kids out like you need more.

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Twenty-Seven

Table of Content or Part Twenty-Six

Pairing: Douglas Booth!Nikki Sixx x OC

Word Count: 2.3k

Warning(s): Language, Hints at drug use

A/N: This wasn't the entire chapter, however tumblr's being weird and won't even let me create a new draft right now let alone let me upload a 4,044 worded text post so I'll upload the second part of this asap (probably tomorrow of they get their shit fixed on here) and there will be another update Friday. Have a good night:)

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

I smooth my wavey hair down, taking the last giant velcrow roller out before putting my lipstick on and leaving the bathroom, looking for the car keys, unable to find them.

"Nikki, babe, where are the keys?" I call to him, looking in the kitchen and living room, heading to our bedroom.

He's passed out from a night of partying, Robbin still asleep on the floor.

"Baby." I lightly pat Nikki's face, not having the time to patiently shake him awake.

He groans, scrunching his face and rubbing his eyes.

"What is it?" He asks me, exhausted.

"Where are the car keys?"

"Mine or your's?" He questions, blinking at me to clear the sleep from his eyes.

"Your's. I can't drive mine until we get the driver's side window fixed, remember?"

"What? What happened to it?" He sits up and I raise my brows.

"Uh, well, you put your fist through it?" I remind him and he exhales.

"Oh...yeah." He replies. "They're in my pants pocket."

I don't give him time to reach for them himself.

My hand is in his pants pocket, grabbing his keys and pulling them out.

"Bye, love y-love, I'll see you when I get back." I stutter to cover my slip up, cutting myself off immediately before I can say, "love you", even though I've never called Nikki "love" before.

He doesn't notice it.

"See you when you get back." He mumbles once he's laying back down.

I slip my kitten heels on and head out.

"I love you" was one of the biggest Elephants in the room between Nikki and I.

We should have said it and we knew that, but we just didn't say it.

At first I was waiting for him to say it, then he never did...so I just decided it was something we wouldn't do.

Love's an action instead of an emotion, anyway, so I didn't think it was a big deal that neither of us had heard it from the other because we showed each other we loved each other in other ways...until we didn't anymore...and started keeping score, measuring who was winning by who was hurting who more, instead of trying to be better to each other.

I had to face that ugly reality when we were both screaming "I hate you" with Fred and Doc trying to break up one of our argument-turned-near-fist fights backstage at the last North American show of "Girls, Girls, Girls."

That was the night I got pregnant with my first son, Monroe, and the man barking about how much he hated me, isn't the father.

It's safe to say I won.

My heels click down the concrete stairs of the church as I walk to Nikki's black corvette after service is over, furrowing my brows the closer I get, seeing a white slip of paper tucked under the windsheild wiper.

I pluck the paper off and see it's a ticket for $350.00 with "BROKEN TAIL LIGHT" marked on it.

"My tail light isn't broken." I argue to myself, stepping around the back.

The entire left side set of lights are busted with signs of swapped paint where someone hit the car with their's and I open my mouth to speak but no words come out.

I stand and stare at the paper, then the busted light, tears oncoming the more I look at it.

Nikki is going to kill me.

I hear a car pull up behind me and park on the curb of the street but I don't pay any attention, too busy figuring out how to explain this.

"Hey, uh, Vivian?"

I turn to see Duff, wiping my eyes quickly.

"Duff?" I'm caught off guard by my recently new friend. "I've told you just call me 'Viv'." I tell him, sniffling and he furrows his brows, stopping in front of me where I'm now standing by the driver's door of the corvette.

"You alright?"

"Yeah." It's an obvious lie, a pathetic squeak leaving me.

"What's up?" He asks me and I lick my lips and sigh out.

"It's stupid." I mumble, rolling my eyes.

"What happened?"

I just hand him the ticket and he takes in a sharp breath, his brows shooting up.

"Jeezus." He lets out. "You just got this?"

"Yes." My voice cracks and he looks at me with sympathetic eyes.

"Viv, c'mon, it's not that bad. It'll be alright." He tries to reassure me.

"Oh, no, no, no...that's not all." I say, walking to the back and he follows me, not hiding the gasp that leaves his lips. Nikki is going to kill me."

There's a silent pause as I rest against the back of the corevette, crossing my arms, trying to figure out how I'm going to present the $350.00 ticket to my husband.

Duff leans against it beside me, avoiding the broken bits, thinking for a second, too, before reaching into his jacket pocket.

"Here." He grabs my hand, putting a wad of cash into it and I look at him, confused. "For the ticket." He explains and I shake my head.

"N-No. I can't take this from you, you need it." I argue, wiping more tears.

He goes to say something but I cut him short. "If you say that you don't need it, I'm going to hit you. You live in your car, Duff. You've been talking about getting a new place and this is part of the rent for an apartment." I point out, handing the cash back to him.

"Whatever you say." He shrugs, putting it back in his jacket.

We sit for a moment longer before he nudges me with his elbow.

"You hungry?" He asks and I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Stop offering to spend your money on me." I chuckle and he smiles.

"Actually, I know a place the both of us can eat and it would only cost the price of one beer." He tells me and I raise my brows.

It was the first of many Sunday lunches at this hotel a few blocks away that offered an "all you can eat" buffet if you just buy a bottle of beer.

I listen as Duff goes on about possible members of the potential band he wants to be a part of.

A drummer named Steven, who has a lot of extra drums in his kit than what's needed but he's a hell of a drummer.

A Johnny Thunders look alike-that isn't that great on a guitar but makes it sound cool anyway-that goes by the name Izzy.

And a kind of weird kid that apparantly has massive hair and is super shy but speaks a billion words a minute through his guitar: Slash.

"And Slash and Steven are buddies, but I don't know if they've ever met Izzy or not." He tells me, sipping the beer neither of us were carded for, even though we're only twenty.

"What style of singer do you have in mind?" I ask, taking a bite out of my mozerella stick.

"Someone who gets the punk scene, but not necessarily a punk singer." He tells me and I wrinkle my nose. "Don't do that." He points at me, knowing exactly what I'm about to say.

"Punk?"

"Don't say it like that." He laughs. "You don't like it because you don't understand it."

"I understand it and I respect it, I just don't..." I try to choose my words. "...I like some of it, but most of it I don't really care for."

"How the hell do you survive not liking punk? It's the biggest 'fuck you' to societal standards." He defends the genre.

"I like the Ramones, The Stooges, the New York Dolls." I tell him, even though they were all acquired tastes because I have to listen to them so much due to Nikki.

"What about The Sex Pistols?" Duff suggests.

"I did, until Sid killed Nancy." I shrug.

"Oh, c'mon, Viv, you really believe that propaganda bullshit made up by the conservative media to further their anti-punk/rock agenda and get a good check? He did not kill her." He argues.

"They'd been binging on all kinds of drugs for weeks. I'm not saying he meant to, maybe he was hallucinating and genuinely didn't realize it was her until it was too late, but he did it." I state.

"Nope."

"Oh, okay, so it was the body guard?"

"I think it was a double suicide attempt." He explains and I lean back. "His just didn't work."

"If it was a double suicide, why didn't he just use the knife she used and bleed to death like she did?" I question.

"Maybe he didn't want to be stabbed."

"If he was going to die, what would it matter?" I ask and he shakes his head a little with a small grin pulling at his lips.

"Hi, my name is Vivian Estine Sixx and I can argue with a brick wall for five hours straight." He mocks me and I cut my eyes at him.

We just stare at each other, and he attempts to take another drink of his beer while we have our staring contest, and the both of us crack up simultaneously, and he sprays beer through his lips and nose, further egging my laughter on.

I get home around four in the afternoon after spending three hours talking to Duff, and my stomach's sore from laughing so much.

"Viv?" Nikki calls from the bathroom and I walk in to see him teasing his hair.

He's shirtless, his black jeans are unbuttoned and unzipped, exposing some of his pubic hair and I lick my lips.

"Did you have fun?" He asks in a teasing tone, referring to the oh-so-wild church service I attend as much as I can, and I roll my eyes and lean against the sink beside him, crossing my arms.

"Yes, I did." I reply, not able to meet his eyes because I'm too focused on his exposed skin.

"What took you so long to get back?" He asks next.

I know, I know, "if it was innocent then there should be nothing to hide and you should be able to tell him you were with another man."

It wasn't Tommy, Mick, Robbin or Vince, and he never met Duff.

He didn't trust men he'd never met around me.

So if I would have told him, I would have never heard the end of it.

"Long sermon." I lie, and he looks at me and furrows his brows.

"Have you been crying? Your mascara's smudged." He tells me, his thumb swiping right under my bottom lash line to wipe away dried mascara and I'm suddenly hit with the realization that I have a $350.00 ticket.

"It was a good sermon." I say.

He finishes his hair, turning to look at me.

"Me and the guys are going to the Rainbow tonight." He tells me. "You're comin', right?"

"Yes." I nod, grinning.

"Good. I gotta go get the oil changed and I'll be back to pick you up." He steps out of the bathroom to go get dressed and I follow him.

Once he's got his t-shirt that has "FUCK" written across the front, he's pulling his jacket and boots on.

When he's gotten his boots on, he stands up from the matress of our bed, and I grab at the top of his jeans, pulling him closer to me, standing on my tip toes to press my lips to his.

He kisses me, his hands holding at either side of my jaw.

When we pull away, he smiles, kissing my cheek before grabbing his keys and leaving.

The second he's gone I'm darting to my purse, attempting to find the ticket, praying I didn't leave it in the car.

Once I see it's not in my purse, I let out a deep breath and worry that I've lost it.

"Damnit." I mumble, trying to remember the last place I had it. "The church parkinglot with Duff but..." I trail off, thinking of the possibility of it being left in the parkinglot and I groan out.

There's no way it's still there if that's where it got left.

I decide to figure it out later and go wash away my worn off makeup before reapplying it and changing clothes, waiting for Nikki to get back.

I'm finishing putting on ruby red lipstick when I hear the front door slam and I tense up and put the cap back on the tube before peeking my head out the door and seeing Nikki put his keys and a piece of paper on the counter, frustration taking a stance in his movements.

Pretending nothing's wrong, I walk out of the bathroom and across the floor to our bedroom to grab my purse and put my heels on.

Once they're on, I walk back into the kitchen smile at him.

"C'mon, babe." I nudge him as I walk past him to get to the door.

He grabs my arm, though, causing me to stop and he pulls me back, pushing me against the counter, trapping me when he puts his hands on the counter on either side of me and his face is centimeters from mine.

"You wouldn't know anything about the completely shattered tail light on my car, would you?" He asks me calmly.

"No?" I lie, trying to seem confused, but it's clear he's not buying it.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

He just stares at me and I slide my hands up and down his arms, smiling nervously.

"Can we go, now?" I ask, kissing his cheek.

"I spent $100.00 to get it fixed today." He explains. "Did you back into something or did someone hit the car?"

"I told you I didn't even know about it, babe." I argue calmly. "Can we leave and just go back and forth about this later? We're gonna be late."

He gives me one last stare before sighing out, letting me go and I make sure to beat him to the car by several strides, frantically searching for the ticket when I get in, not finding it, before he gets in beside me.

[buckmecaptain]

Violence

(Image is not mine)

Pairing: None, really.  F!Reader/OC flirts hard with all 3 men

Word Count: 2168

Summary:  After a weapons-smuggling bust involving Hydra, Captain America, The Falcon, and the Winter Soldier chase down the last few bad guys and run into a quirky and rough SHIELD agent whom Bucky has yet to meet.  (Cap and Sam have known her for a while)

Warnings: Mentions of weapons, heavy flirting, physical violence and dead bodies.  Nothing too descriptive or explicit.

A/N:  This is my first fic posted here on Tumblr, and it is in response to a prompt from @stars-inthe-sky​  who gave me permission to use the prompt/incorrect quote they posted and said they would like to read the fic.  Thank you for giving me the inspiration and a bit of a push to write this! <3

SO... I got some anon hate over the "sexual chocolate" line in dialogue between 46 and Sam. It is a reference to one of my favorite movies, which is also the very favorite movie of my dear, dear friend Dashawn- "Coming to America". He adores iced mocha, as well ( calls it his sexual chocolate) and absolutely has the hots for Anthony Mackie. :D That was my little nod to my friend

It was all over but the clean up work. A huge alien tech weapons bust had been made in Midtown Manhattan, the contraband confiscated and most of the criminals -a Hydra splinter cell- apprehended.  Time to chase down the stragglers.  That task was up to the three-man team of Captain America, the Falcon, and the Winter Soldier.

"Team Cap, head over to fifty-third off Jackson," Sam called out over the comms,  "Redwing spotted the last seven hostiles near Schein And Lobell's attorney's office.  Headed that way now."

Steve swore under his breath and gestured at Bucky to follow him.  "Repeat, Sam.  You said Schein and Lobell's?"  

"Yeah, yeah, I know.  Better move it," the Falcon confirmed as he soared overhead.

"C'mon, Buck, gotta hurry," Steve urged.

Puzzled at his friend's burst of urgency, Bucky nodded and turned to follow.  "What would Hydra want with a lawyer's office?"

"It's not the lawyers they're after, pal.  It's a couple of doors down that concerns me, and we need them alive for questioning," came the terse reply.

Shrugging, Bucky picked up his pace, and within moments both soldiers rounded the corner of Fifty-third Avenue.   Steve came to a sudden stop, almost causing his teammate to crash into him from behind just as the Falcon dropped down beside them.

"What the hell?"  Bucky drew his pistol as they surveyed the scene before them: Five Hydra operatives in black tactical gear were lying on the street, unmoving.  He approached and nudged them one by one with the toe of his boot.  

"Dead. One shot each.  Sniper's accuracy," he ascertained.

The Captain immediately whirled around, scanning the rooftops for shooters.  "You see anyone above as you were flying in, Sam?"

"Nah, man.  Complete silence.   It's Forty-six.  This... this could be bad, Cap.  Seven is not a small number when we're talking about trained Hydra agents." he warned, gazing at the shop in front of which the agents were lying. Kitty's Sweets.

"Oh boy," Steve exhaled loudly, hanging his head. "Get ready."  He squared his shoulders and faced the shop, Sam shaking his head and grinning at his side.

Bucky readied himself and his weapon.  Just as he opened his mouth to acknowledge the order, the huge plate glass window of the shopfront exploded outward, slivers spraying in all directions, followed by the body of another Hydra operative.

Captain America led the charge, shield raised, and the three Avengers burst into the bakery.  As expected, the interior of the once adorable sweet shop was a mess;  pastel-painted tables and chairs broken and scattered all over the dining space, cash register and displays overturned, glass and bits of baked goods and blood splattered everywhere.

In the midst of the chaos was a strong, curvy woman in an adorable lavender and baby pink striped retro waitress uniform - short and ruffled, complete with an apron- standing over the seventh Hydra agent, her right hand fisted in his tactical vest and the left landing backhand after backhand.

She. Was. Pissed.

"Do you have ANY idea," she snarled, "how long it took me to decorate six dozen gourmet cupcakes?" SLAP! "It takes patience!" SLAP.  "Talent!" SLAP. "Energy! "SLAP.  "Did I mention talent?" SLAP SLAP.  "And YOU, you fucker.... you busted in here and tried to stab me." SLAP.  "Then your clumsy ass slammed into the case and smashed' SLAP "them" SLAP "ALL!"

Seething, chest heaving with, she swung her right arm behind her, forefinger raised in a "Be right with you" gesture toward the three Avengers, then dropped hard onto one knee on the agent's crotch.  As he gasped and cried out from the pain, she landed a hard punch to his nose.  Smirking at the sound of crunching bone, she stood and turned to face the newcomers.

"Okay, fellahs.  This one is still in decent enough shape to take in for questioning."

Bucky, mouth agape, muttered to no one in particular, "God, I love that in a woman."

Sam side-eyed him and smirked.  "What, Passion?"

The long-haired soldier shook his head. "Violence."

Steve stepped toward her and nodded. "Agent Forty-six, always a pleasure."

Forty-six chuckled and smoothed back her wildly disheveled hair.  Generous cupid's bow lips turned up and her lashes fluttered coquettishly. "It could be a pleasure.  I mean, I've offered but you never take me up on it."

Steve blushed and cleared his throat.   "Wanna fill us in on the details?" he deflected, gesturing to the last intact table in the shop, eyes looking anywhere but at her.

"Sure thing, Cap.  Might as well feed y'all while I'm at it.  There's still a bunch of pastries that didn't get ruined. Afraid I only have iced coffee though.  Fuc--- uh, jerks broke the coffee pot and espresso machine.  What'll you boys have?" She rattled on as she busied herself with washing her hands, back to business as if she hadn't just bested seven Hydra operatives without suffering so much as a scratch.

"Big ol' iced mocha. Dark and super sweet, just like me," Sam called out with a grin.

Forty-six laughed.  "Sammy, you know in my head I call that drink 'Sexual Chocolate'."

Sam guffawed.  “Hey, babygirl, we’ve gotta get together and watch that movie again!”  He received an enthusiastic nod and an "It's a date!" in reply.

Bucky's eyes went saucer-wide and Steve facepalmed at the nickname.

"Iced Americano for you, mon Capitan?  And you, Mr. Hotness-who-has-not-been-introduced-to-me-yet, what would you like?" As she offered, she turned to face the men and Bucky got his first real look at Agent Forty-six. Even with her hair a mess and makeup smeared, he was instantly smitten, causing him to lose the ability to speak when he locked eyes with her.

"Aw, kitty cat got your tongue, handsome?" she teased, "How about a large iced, extra creamy, lots of sugar, whipped cream with caramel drizzled all over the top?  Sticky sweet and it'll keep you awake for hours," she offered with a wide-eyed innocent smile.

Bucky swallowed hard and nodded.

"Yep, that's exactly what Frosty needs.  Been ages since he had something sweet," Sam confirmed, fighting back laughter.  

Steve glared at Same, then lay his head on the table and groaned.  "For the love of Pete, Forty-six.  Why are you like this?"

She rounded the counter with two trays piled impossibly high with food and drinks. As she placed the trays onto the table, she reached down and ruffled Steve's hair.  

"Well, Captain," she began in a throaty, sultry voice, "I've offered to be any way you want me, so it's your fault.  I'm just waiting for your...command."  She winked at Sam and Bucky and took a seat.

After a quick briefing on the altercation with Hydra, Forty-six pushed her chair back and regarded Bucky thoughtfully.  "So..." she began, leaning back and stretching tired muscles, “James Barnes, yeah? Winter Soldier, now Fist of the Avengers, super soldier, metal arm, best friend of Captain America?"

He found his voice long enough to reply with a quiet "yeah."

"Nice," she grinned, "So is there some sort of restriction in place to join the team?  'You must be this hot to enter', or what?  'The Earth's Panty-droppingest Heroes?  Jeezus-please us, Fury cornered the market on-"

"Forty-six, please," Steve interrupted.  He sighed and rubbed his temples before continuing. "Yes, this is James Barnes – Bucky, to his friends- and yes he is an active team member now.  No, there is no restriction.  You know that wouldn't be allowed, especially in this day and age."

She whistled.  "Look at you, all PC and stuff.  Honey, I was just yankin' your chain.  You know me.  I'll have all the required forms submitted before nine tonight, don't worry.  I'm a capable agent, despite how I might sound."   She stood and pushed the chair back into place.  "Great seeing you guys again.  Bucky, it's a pleasure to meet you.  I know you'll be a strong addition to the team." She graced him with a tight but genuine smile and moved to the stock room to check for supplies to board up the window.

Bucky regained his voice and senses after she left. "That's some dame.  She always like that?"

"Like what, flirty?" Sam grinned.  "Yeah, she's got a mouth on her, she's like Tony in that way, but she's more than capable. Nearly unstoppable in the field.  I've seen her accomplish some extraordinary feats, and if you need a marksman she's your woman."

Steve hummed in agreement.  "Yes, but she's got a quick temper, and that gets her saddled with the lower-end assignments.  Highest kill-count in SHIELD history... as you can probably tell by the bodies outside.  That makes her dangerous and a liability."

"Cap, she's more than competent and loyal to a fault," Sam reasoned.  "I'd be just as happy for her to have my back as one of you guys.  Give her a shot, man."

Heaving a defeated sigh, Steve stood.  "You're right.  I'll go talk to her."

Sam nodded.  "Good call."  Turning to Bucky, he smiled slyly and offered, "She's also single, Barnes.  Very available.  And in case you didn't notice, she's hot."

The soldier coughed and took a long drink of his iced coffee concoction.

Forty-six's rummaging around was interrupted by a throat clearing behind her.   Not bothering to turn around, she called over her shoulder, "I hope y'all will take home a couple of big boxes.  The baked goods will go stale and I hate for them to waste."

"I'm sorry."

She turned to see Steve wringing his hands, a penitent expression on his perfect face, his shoulders hunched and .drawn in.  It made the formidable Captain America look smaller and somehow quite vulnerable.

"I'm sorry I ran out of patience with you, Forty-six.  I'm still trying to balance duty and professionalism with basic... human instinct, I guess."  He hung his head and shifted from foot to foot.  "I'm not judging you for the things you say. I just can't process them quickly enough.  I respect you, very much," he paused and took a deep breath before exhaling slowly, controlled.  "Sometimes it's difficult to reconcile that respect with bawdy language and sexual innuendo."

As he stared at the floor and the tips of his ears turned bright pink, Forty-six smiled softly.  Heart melting for the Captain, she approached him and lifted his chin with a forefinger, searching his eyes with her own. "You're a good man, Steve Rogers.  I appreciate you." She placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, then turned back to

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

her task, missing the goofy grin on Steve's face.

He helped her carry the plywood to the front of the shop and the four made short work of boarding the shattered window as SHIELD agents removed the subdued Hydra operative.

"Well, that's that," she frowned as she dusted off her hands.  "Y'all want to take the boxed goods with you now, or do you want me to have them delivered to the tower?"

"Yes to all!" Sam cheered.  "You could just come back with us and crash there for a while.  I'm sure the team would love to see you."

Forty-six turned and entered the shop, muttering "Sure, sure they would."

Bucky shot Sam and Steve a look, to which Steve responded with a mouthed "tell you later."

A few minutes later, the four piled themselves and multiple boxes of baked goods into Forty-six's Jeep and were on their way to Avengers Tower. Sam reached over the seat and tugged her ridiculously cute uniform sleeve.   "You are keeping the outfit though, right?"  He winked at her in the rearview mirror.

She chuckled.  "Nah, I don't think these are my colors.  Besides, it makes my ass look fat.  I've gotta say, I'm looking forward to not having to get up at four in the morning to bake.  Another shi-  er, crummy gig in the books.  Wonder where Fury will send me next?" She pulled over in front of the Tower entrance and turned to grin at the guys.  "Home sweet home!  See y'all the next time I have to beat some ass.  Tell Tony I said 'hey', and nice to meet you, James."

The heroes said their goodbyes and made their way inside.

In the elevator, Sam broke the silence.  "Well, as run-ins with Forty-six go, that one was incredibly mild."

Bucky snorted.

"I'm serious!  The last time, there was a two-block wide explosion, a half-ton of gummy bears, and an ostrich. Then just when we thought the roof was gonna collapse on-"  Sam was interrupted by the elevator doors opening to reveal an agitated Tony Stark.

"I see bakery boxes.  Many bakery boxes," he gestured toward them with a wagging forefinger.  "What I do not see is coffee, and what else I do not see is my favorite baker. You three had the audacity not to bring Forty-six up here to visit her favorite genius?"  He stomped toward the common area as he ranted.

Sam and Steve chuckled as they dropped off the boxes of baked goods, then toward their rooms for showers, Bucky following suit, still puzzling over earlier events.

"Wait!” he shouted, "What happened to the gummy bears and the ostrich?"

There we go.  My first, very mild (in all ways) submission to Tumblr.  Anxiety is going to eat my face now.

[aceofwhump]

Would you mind writing a fic were Klaus is All nauseas And dizzy from being sick but everyone thinks he’s just “recently getting sober” or drunk but he’s actually been sober for months now, and he’s actually sick. Diego believed him and he helps take care of him along with Ben’s help; who’s been with him the whole time and actually gives a lick about him? Pls and thank u!

So last night I sat down to write a completely different story but had a sentence for your request pop into my head. I opened up a document and wrote it down, thinking I’d go right back to the other story once it was written. Well, one sentence turned into two. Which turned into three. And about three hours later I had written the entire fic. Just needed some editing. 

I guess it’s safe to say that the Umbrella Academy has my muse in a stronghold at the moment. If the massive amount of gifs I’ve been making wasn’t evidence enough this fic should do it. I don’t think I’ve ever written anything so fast before. It came so easily.

Anyway, I loved writing this. I hope you like it :D

Klaus had been feeling off for a few days now. At first he just had a headache and the occasional body ache but today was the worst of it. He felt like all the times he’d sobered up because he ran out of money to purchase another bag of drugs. Or the last time he sobered up, willingly, so he could focus on harnessing these dumb powers of his.

He alternated between sweltering hot and blistering cold, sometimes mere second in between the two, leaving him confused about how the fuck he should dress. One moment he wrapped himself in his fluffiest jacket to stave off the chills racking through his body the next he was desperately tearing it off himself before he roasted to death. The spinning room did nothing to quell the nausea rolling through him. He’d thrown up earlier this morning which was very unpleasant. He always hated puking. It was gross and made him feel even worse once he was done.

It he hadn’t been four months sober now he’d know exactly how to fix this. A couple a pills, maybe some weed or a bottle of whiskey and he’d be as good as new. But this wasn’t him getting sober. And besides, he wasn’t going back to that. He was clean and he intended on keeping it that way.

Ben did what he could to help but without a corporeal body there wasn’t much he could do besides comforting words and advice. They had been practicing Klaus’s powers to make him corporeal again but he hadn’t been quite able to do it every time yet.

So when Klaus ran into the bathroom at 6 in the morning and violently threw up everything he had for dinner, Ben anxiously kneeled by his side offering comforting words until he was finished.

Ben tried to get him to tell someone he was sick but Klaus didn’t want to. He’d be fine. And they wouldn’t care anyway. Ben scoffed and said things were different now but Klaus knew better. Yeah some things were different but it’d be a long time before any of them changed that drastically.

He fell asleep in front of the toilet that night, sweaty and exhausted, with Ben close by watching over him.

He woke up to Luther pounding on the door shouting that they were all meeting in the living room and to get his butt down there now.

It took a couple of minutes but he managed to pry himself off the floor, clean himself up a bit, and head downstairs.

The seven of them were now all gathered in the living to discuss how best to go about avoiding the apocalypse again but Klaus wasn’t paying attention. He sat on one of the stools at the bar, arms wrapped around his stomach in a vain attempt to prevent himself from throwing up all over the floor and tuned out the spinning world around him.

Eventually he noticed that the room had grown quiet. Klaus looked up to see everyone staring at him. “What?” he croaked, baffled as to why everyone was looking at him expectantly.

“They asked you how it was going with your powers,” Ben offered with a worried look.

Oh. Whoops.

“Klaus, if your not going to even pay attention why are you here?” Luther asked with a hint of impatience. Ben scowled at him.

Cause you made me you jackass. “No, no. I was paying attention. Riveting stuff as always. As for me well everything’s going just ungh!…” Klaus’s stomach rolled suddenly and he clamped a hand over his mouth to stop himself from puking.

“Klaus, please, just tell them you’re sick. They can help. And you need help,” Ben pleaded with him. Maybe Ben was right. He really wasn’t feeling so great. He nodded slightly at Ben and removed his hand to speak but Luther interrupted before he could make a noise.

“Are you drunk? Jeezus Klaus, can’t you stay sober for one second. God dammit, go sleep it off! I swear if you puke on me.” Luther hissed. Klaus looked at the faces of the others, all disapproving and disgusted, as usual. He had been right. No point in saying anything to them. They didn’t care.

His stomach rolled again and he closed his eyes tight and fisted his hand over his mouth again, willing himself not to upchuck right then and there. The room spun around him. He was having trouble keeping everything in focus and the spinning making his stomach even angrier.

“Klaus? You okay?” Diego pried himself off the column he was leaning against and came closer to him. He could see the sweat on his brow, the way his frame shook. Something was wrong.

“Leave him Diego, he brought this on himself and we have bigger things to focus on at the moment, remember? That pesky apocalypse thing?” Five said.

Diego ignored him and placed a hand gently against his forehead. Klaus closed his eyes and leaned into it with a sigh. Diego’s hand felt so cool against his burning face.

“You’re burning up. Not drunk then I suppose. Withdrawal?”

Withdrawal? They thought he was in withdrawal? Of course they did. They didn’t know. “No. ’m not drunk. No drugs. Sober.”

Diego’s mouth opened slightly in surprised but he recover quickly and placed a hand on Klaus’s shoulder with a nod.

“Klaus just go do whatever you need to do to sober up, okay?” Luther said dismissively turning his back to his brother and facing the rest of the group.

Klaus watched as Diego got that look on his face that usually came before knives starting flying. He whipped around and shouted, “Fuck off, Luther! Something’s clearly wrong with him.”

“Yeah he’s a drunk and drug addict. This isn’t news here Diego.” Five said with an air of annoyance.

“Guys, come on. That’s enough.” Allison tried in vain to get them to stop arguing.

“Fuck you Five,” Diego spat before turning his attention back to Klaus who was busy trying to control the spinning. The world tilted sharply threatening to thrown him off his precarious position on the bar stool so he grabbed hold of Diego’s holster to steady himself.

Diego caught Klaus by the elbow as he started sliding off the stool, “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Easy there. I got you. Let’s get you upstairs, okay Klaus? Can you walk?”

“Don’t think so. Erng….dizzy. Gonna be sick.”

“Alright, just hold on okay? No puking til I get you to a bathroom.”

“Trying.”

Diego put an arm under his knees and another under his arms and carefully lifted him clear off the stool and up into his arms in a bridal carry. The sudden change in altitude made his stomach flip and he groaned.

“Hey, hey, hey what I’d say! No puking! Don’t puke on me, man, I mean it!”

“Ugh..Diego!”

“Shit. Okay, hold on,” Klaus had only a moment to close his eyes, hold his breath, and pray, before Diego raced off to the bathroom around the corner and deposited him in front of the toilet. It was just in time too because Klaus’s stomach chose that moment to violently get rid of everything he’d eaten or drank in the past day, as if there were anything left after his adventures during the night.

Klaus heaved and gagged for what felt like forever. By the end he was dry heaving, nothing left to throw up. He could feel Diego awkwardly lay a hand on his sweaty back and rub small circles in a comforting gesture as he heaved over and over again.

When his stomach finally let him go he collapsed, exhausted, onto the tiled floor of the bathroom. He heard the toilet flush and the sink turn on briefly.

Klaus felt a cool cloth wipe across his face cleaning away the sweat from his forehead and the sick from his mouth. “You think you’re done?” Diego asked.

Klaus opened his slightly and hummed, “Think so.”

“Okay then. How about we get off the bathroom floor, get some medicine in ya.”

“That sounds nice.”

Klaus tried to sit up but his arms were too weak to lift himself up so Diego hauled him slowly up and held him steady while he got his bearings back.

He swallowed several times, tamping down his nausea and dizziness. When he was sure he wasn’t going to puke again he nodded at Diego who helped him up. He deposited him on the side of the bathtub and nudged him to get his attention.

“Here. Take these. For the fever. You need to drink some water too. You’re probably dehydrated.”

“Don’t think I could keep the water down right now,” Klaus said, taking the pills from Diego and dry swallowing them.

“Mmm. Later then. Think you can make it to your bed?”

Klaus nodded and together they slowly made their way to Klaus’s room, Diego bearing most of Klaus’s weight. Ben hovered close by at all times, unable to help but worried for his brother.

Diego helped Klaus get out of his sweat covered clothes and into some sleep clothes, Klaus being too out of it to comment on the fact that he was being undressed and Diego sure as hell wasn't’ going to point it out. Klaus then collapsed onto his bed and promptly curled up with his pillow pressed to his chest.

Once Klaus was comfortably snuggled up in bed, Diego pulled a chair next to him sat down. Klaus was almost asleep when Diego’s voice brought him back into consciousness, “How long you been clean for?”

He hesitated but seeing Ben smile at him, prompting him to tell Diego, he said, “Four months. ’m four months sober. Not that anyone cares.”

Ben took exception to that, “Hey I care. And I’m proud of you Klaus.”

Klaus smiled at Ben and turned back to Diego, “‘cept Ben. Ben’s been very helpful now that he knows he can punch the pills out of my mouth”, he said with a smirk.

“And don’t you forget it,” Ben countered.

Diego looked at his brother with a proud smile, “That’s amazing, Klaus. Way to go, man. Must have been hard. Sorry I wasn’t there.”

“S’okay,” Klaus said as his eyes closed once more, “Wasn’t completely alone. Had Ben.”

“I’m glad,” Diego smiled, pulling Klaus’s covers up to his shoulders. He directed his next words to the room, not knowing exactly where Ben was but knowing he was in the room somewhere, “Thanks for keeping an eye on our bro, Ben.”

“Someone had to do it.”

Klaus giggled lightly and felt himself falling asleep. He was warm and comfortable for the first time in days. Whatever Diego had given him was helping with the nausea. Exhaustion pulled at him and he drifted off knowing that both Ben and Diego were watching over him.

[rockettransman]

Rocketman Watch #4 Thoughts

i have so many MORE thoughts can you believe it wow here we go

(i wrote these as i watched it so they’re in order im p sure)

man, his intro monologue during group therapy is just as gripping as it was when I first watched it. And the transition to the bitch is back is so fuckin good. My palms are sweating.

There’s some commentary about forgiving and loving your inner/past child, but I don’t have the words for it at this moment. In the beginning he’s staring down, confused and scowling at his child self, but at the end, he embraces him in a way his father and loved ones never did.

Was he in therapy/rehab WHILE touring and doing music? Stomping into the room in his regalia would have me believe so. I know group therapy was a medium for storytelling. Was it just signaling the very beginning of his story, because we go through different stages through his actions and clothing changes?

Lmao I imagine it must take some pretty cool parents to allow their, like, six or seven year old child to be in this movie. He said bitch so many times.

Took me a hot second to realize the orchestra he’s conducting is playing Rocket Man. The violins are so pretty. Imagine being picked to be in the orchestra on set and getting smile up at the tiny little kid who played Elton. My heart would absolutely swell seeing a little kid being so fantastic at this really intense job.

Kit Connor did amazing in his role. He’s fifteen and he’s already done so much! Imagine growing up knowing you played Elton John as a kid. Getting to work alongside him and his husband and the dozens of incredible actors. Wowie. I’d never shut up about it.

I LOVE how 12 year old Elton is playing the piano SO HARD and is trying to rock out as hard as he can while playing classical music. The boy wanna ROCK dammit.

HE GLANCED UP THE TINIEST BIT WHEN THE MAN ASKED IF ANYONE HAD A FAG (slang for cigarette)

SATURDAY NIGHTS ALRIGHT GIVES ME CONSTANT CHILLS FROM THE START TO FINISH

WOOOW SEVENTEEN YEAR OLD ELTON IS CUTE AS HEEELLLL. The hair, glasses, and front tooth gap fit Taron so well. Goddamn I hope I look like 17 year old Elton some day.

The choreography for this number is absolutely breathtaking. You have to get that many people all in sync! We followed Elton running through the crowd and AAHHH it was a lot! The athleticism! And they did it in the rain! Wow I’m blow away.

Elton is JAMMIN in the back of the stage. It’s really sweet to see his smile and enthusiasm and his brain thinking and working.

That guy in the back peed a LOT lmao

I was wondering where thank you for all of your loving came in.

Charlie Rowe plays Ray Williams, and he also plays LEO ROTH from Red Band Society!!! The first time I watched the movie, I KNEW him from somewhere, but I couldn’t place it and it was driving me nuts. Man. RBS was a big crutch during the worst lows of my ED. Had no idea he was English.

Love to see how shy Elton was as a teenager. It’s a hot ass mood. Also, those silk scarves? Ascots? idk but they’re a LOOK.

“One frothy coffee, no froth.”

The acquaintances-to-best-friends montage set to Border Song *chefs kiss*

Rock And Roll Madonna Is A Perfect Song Send Tweet

Lmao Elton is NOT phased at all when he gets accused of being gay. He’s just like. “Nah. I’m like. Not.” Not overly defensive and surprised, like I’m sure other people would be lmaooo

STUMBLING HOME DRUNK WITH YOUR BEST FRIEND IS A MILESTONE IN TEENAGEHOOD!!!!!!!

“You are a ssSSHHIIIITT HOT piano player—”

So delicate of Bernie the way he politely denied a kiss from him. It wasn’t weird or tense at all. Just a gentle “love you, but not that way. It’s okay” Some people may not be able to handle it that well even today.

Taron’s got nice thighs. That robe & underwear getup is a nice look.

Love love LOVE hearing him experiment with Your Song on the piano to find a melody that worked.

Honestly what the shit do these songs even mean. Bernie sometimes these words don’t make any sense. Don’t worry, they still slap. “See I’ve forgotten if they’re green or they’re blue” like what

AMOREENA IS A PERFECT SONG SEND TWEET

Doug flirting with Bernie makes me snort every time. “Oh, really? That’s.. cool.”

THE TROUBADOUR OUTFIT IS GOOD AS SHIT!!!!!!!!

“NO, BERNIE. YOU ARE UNDERREACTING.”

Taron was right. The overalls do make his ass look massive.

A week ago before this movie I was sick and fuckin TIRED of crocodile rock but now I can’t get enough of it. The movie transformed a lot of old songs I was sick of for me.

Imagine being a kind of shy, nervous kid, terrified to go on stage, but two and a half minutes later the entire venue is LOSING IT because they love the jam YOU WROTE. how cool for Elton.

I want a best friend platonic cheek kiss :(

Hmmmmm I’m wondering if they used the studio recordings that went on the album for the movie or have different movie-specific recordings. Tiny Dancer sounds a teeny bit different in the movie version.

Goddamn I sure hope Taron got to keep that jacket.

“So you liked the song, then?” “Not as much as the singer” *Elton glances away in gay panic*

LMFAO John said some weird colorful words to Elton that barely made sense and he was like OH FUCK GOTTA KISS HIM GOTTA KISS HIM

I’ve talked so much about the sex scene I don’t need to go on about it here. Go search the rocketman tag on my blog for my extensive gay thoughts about it.

Now I know glasses come OFF during sex

oh oh oh I was wondering where Hercules fell in the movie. I love how the songs he’s writing or getting notoriety for is played over the transition scenes.

Elton’s hand on his hip, knowing smirk as John enters the studio. “Hello.”

Bernie is like “HELLO are we RECORDING or are y’all gonna FUCK in the CLOSET?”

*vibrating* Honky Cat Honky Cat Honky Cat Honky Cat

Damn, the flowy white button down with the red pants really is a LOOK

The gestures, staring up at each other, leaning into each other, hands on each other’s chests, damn it makes me feel some typa way. Maybe their love WAS good and fun and exciting while they rode the high of everything before it all went so so bad.

Elton searching John’s gaze while he’s talking and looking like he’s not really paying attention, just looking for a kiss on the couch.. GOD I remember the honeymoon phase of my relationships. So much fun.

His dad going “N-Not really my thing.” That was a metaphor for his SEXUALITY TOO, huh.

Damn. He went to his dad’s to come out to him and he never even got to get to that part. He was just like “....nice shoes....” and even after all this time, didn’t show any interest in his music. If he never was into what he did, how could he even talk about being gay? I’m sure during that scene there were a lot of metaphors to sexuality but I didn’t bother to think much about them.

The eyebrow quirk after his dad says “ah—no. Could you make it out to Arthur?” DAMN Elton was like .. “really. This is what’s happening? Okay. Awesome.”

“What do you have to do to get a fucking drink around here, eh?” *cuts to Elton drinking straight from a bottle*

“Elton—” “Elton!”

John saying “don’t you ever put your hands on me” when he was the one who yanked him from the phone booth AND directly after punching him... woof man. What a shitty dude.

Damn, just noticed John talking very quietly and closely to another man right before he goes on and plays Pinball Wizard. Was this the first sign of him having fun with other men when Elton was indisposed?

Pinball Wizard is absolutely intense and loud and fun, but it DOES carry the tone of “god im SO miserable” under it all. You knew Elton wasn’t having fun.

“It is next week.” Jeezus.

LMAO I just caught the “mom, you’re ON my GOWN” when he reluctantly complies to give the Anderson’s a tour.

Damn, flowy, loose dress shirts with the first few buttons undone is a LOOOOK.

How did they do the overdose scene, you think? Surely the pills Taron took had to be like. Empty. Or placebo affect drugs? Idk. He did take a big drink directly after stuffing his mouth with them. I don’t think he spit them out.

God, there is SOMETHING symbolic about how he meets his child self at the bottom of the pool. Rock bottom? Apologizing? Wishing he could be better? Telling him he’ll never be better?

OH I watched a behind the scenes cut about the pool scene, and none of it was CGI. Taron was weighted under his robe and a SCUBA diver was on standby to provide oxygen. The singing and bubbles coming out of his mouth and stuff underwater was all real.

Dying to know about the choreography around the second chorus, about the undressing and twirling and dressing and injection and handing off of the bat and stuff. That sequence was incredible.

Bennie and the Jets. Damn. It fucks. I listened to it almost the entire time on my run today. (Five miles; I felt like garbage the entire time but it was good anyway.) The scene is wild. He’s in the middle of a drug induced haze orgy. He SHOULD be having the time of his life but he’s so goddamn miserable. (Also, the juxtaposition between Chris Fleming’s Bennie and the Jets is so funny.)

Part of the problem was that John never understood Elton. But, Elton broke it off with John, not the other way around like he said it was. He wasn’t the victim in that regard. John did treat him like shit though.

Victim of Love plays right after that lmao

Renate and he aren’t even close when they do the duet to don’t let the sun go down on me. They’re separated in different rooms, mirroring literally how closed off their relationship was.

The shot with them waking up in different rooms.. damn

His shirt is so LOUD I’m going crazy

Watching Taron down that orange juice made me a little nauseous I gotta say

“Not really I’m gAy”

It’s CRAZY to watch Elton and his mom interact at the dinner scene. He gets accosted and accused of so much by his mom, claiming SHE’S the victim of his actions, making it all about HER and then he turns around and does and says the exact same shit to Bernie.

He yells “Oh, don’t be so dramatic!” at Bernie as he gets into a taxi. THE PROJECTION!! THE DEFLECTION!!!!

I know there’s only so much they can put in two hours, but I wish they showed more of Elton’s eating issues. He had bulimia for sixteen years before he got help. It’s Absolutely the Man With Anorexia in me, but seeing that even men deal with eating disorders quells the lonely aching something in me. I feel that much less alone, you know. Eating disorders aren’t a “woman’s disease.”

How do you think they did his hair? A wig adds more hair, not take it away. He didn’t get his hair cut for it did he?

Seeing Elton’s first love fall apart because John was such a selfish, heartless prick in reality makes me sad.

Elton hugs his inner child when he reconciled with everyone in his past. Goddamn. He found peace and forgiveness for himself, who he was, even after all that time.

When Elton asks him not to go, Bernie refuses, saying this is something he had to do on his own. Healing comes from within alone. No one can help you do it. People can guide you, but you have to work at it. It’s fucking lonely sometimes, but it’s so, so worth it.

I used to loathe I’m Still Standing since i heard it so much at work, but the movie changed my entire perspective on it. I love the slow build up as he exits the rehab center. You don’t get thrown into something so happy and fast paced and fun after a cathartic climax you need to drink in. And the pan to his hat with the rainbow stripe to his smile. I get chills every time. Elton feels so right and secure and happy in himself. At first I thought it was a bit cheesy, but accepting your sexuality, especially after all the hell he went through during his life, grappling with unresolved trauma and fear of abandonment, he absolutely should wear it loud and proud. It’s easy to think times are much easier now being gay, and it shouldn’t be such a big deal. Relative to 1975, it is easier. But it doesn’t mean it’s not such a rough personal thing to work through if you’ve been spit on and resented all your life. Being gay, coming out, and accepting and being comfortable with that fact must’ve been such a HUGE milestone in Elton’s recovery and self-esteem.

Love me again after I’m still standing is perfect. The credits make me tear up every time. Jeez. What a good movie. What a good movie. Hit me up if you wanna talk about Rocketman because I absolutely will with you.

[battyjamie24]

Sick Day

A request for @langsty-mc-langstface

-Five gets sick and and his siblings look after him.-

This one-shot is linked to my AU:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21006302/chapters/49957085

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

In all his years working for the commission, Number Five never took a sick day. The apocalypse grew his immunity to great lengths; broads that the human body long forgotten in times of modern medicine and remedies. Though, when countermeasures expired, he had to rely on nature to take its course - work up the strength to fight through sickness and injury.

Once hired by the commission, however, the assassin’s body was modified to withstand near fatal blows. He had grown used to disease, but his employer, the Handler, insisted he upgraded to become even more durable. Both physicality and ailment, Five had completely forgotten what it felt like to be bedridden.

“How could I have miscalculated that imperative factor...” A stuffed nosed teen from beneath three sets of blankets groaned, slowly turning from one side to the other. The pajamas Five wore were warm but his skin was sensitive and ached when anything grazed it. He strip down if he weren’t being intruded on by his siblings checking up on him over and over.

“Did you call me? Do you need something?” Allison poked her head through the cracked door. The room was dim, only harboring the faint sunlight peaking through the curtains. Was she standing outside of the room just waiting for Five to speak up?!

“No... Go away..!” Five huffed, his back turned to the door. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. In fact, he wanted nothing but complete silence as he tried to sleep off this cold and scan the corners of his memory on where he went wrong when time traveling back to 2019.

“You haven’t eaten in awhile... I’ll go make you some soup!” Allison insisted, not even having the courtesy to shut the door as she hustled down the hall. Even the faint footsteps treading down the hall pounded the inside of Five’s congested head.

It was her motherly instinct, surely, but Five did not need to be mothered goddammit! He needed answers. He worked on the perfect formula throughout his employment with the commission. Along the pages of Vanya’s book... Dammit his memory was a hazy - the equations a blur...!

It didn’t matter anyway, he had made an error on his appearance, it would make since he erased all of the progress his immune system took decades to build up...

Sniffling, but not catching air, Five grumbled as he sat up to catch his breath. The air outside of the blankets was piercing cold, it drew a shiver from Five’s core making him slightly nauseous. Huh, maybe he did need to eat.

A gentle knock turned Five’s attention from the door. “Klaus?”

“Oh heya little guy,” Klaus spook softly creeping through the door, knowing all too well Five’s ears were sensitive, “Allison told me you were under the weather and to bring you this.” It was the smell of soup. Five must’ve been under the covers pondering his mistakes longer than it seemed. This illness was a fickle bitch...

As the figure came closer, a brightness stung Five’s eyes, bringing an arm in front of his face.“Gah! Shit! Klaus, warn me!”

“Sorry sorry! You’re right, my bad!” Klaus flicked off the lamp on the bedside table.

“Ughhh.. shut uuuup...!” Klaus was always too loud...

“Well with that attitude, I won’t give you food. Ya little prick.”

Five scoffed, his arms slump on his lap and propping his back on the wooden bed frame. His sickly stubbornness kept himself from apologizing. He had every right to be pissed when feeling this bad.

Klaus was coming to read Five all too easily to know just why he was given the silent treatment. Even if his brother weren’t sick, Five wouldn’t say sorry under such mediocre circumstances. And when Klaus had the good will to come deliver this hot soup too! The nerve...

“Can’t believe you’re more bratty when you’re sick,” Klaus set the tray gently onto the bed, nudging for Five to place it appropriately on his lap. The faint light from the curtains wasn’t enough to see well, to Five’s dismay. The teen leaned over to turn on the lamp again, squinting as he adjusted the tray around his legs. Cradling the bowl, the heated dish numbed Five’s frigid hands. The desire to feel the same sensation on his scratchy throat had the boy indulge on the soup faster than he should have as it was still steaming.

“Nnnn..! Ahhaaahh... Fuck-” Five winced, swallowing the near boiling broth. The sting burned his tongue and throat, but it hurt so good. His jaw went slack, panting to cool off his mouth.

“Hasty are we?” Klaus poked fun, covering his face with his arm as to not breathe in Five’s contagious air.

Another knock at the door was Vanya standing in the doorway with Allison by her side. “Jeezus is everyone coming to see me…” Five grumbled, his voice even more raspy from the intake of hot liquid.

“We can leave if you need time alone,” Vanya said, holding herself. The standoffish sibling didn’t want to be there, knowing Five would be irritable and in need of solitude and rest.

“No no, Five hit the nail on the head,” the lackadaisical Klaus took a seat at the foot of the twin sized bed, crossing his legs and getting a little too comfy to Five’s liking, “Number One and Two were just on their way to bring the grand finale of this disappointing ‘get well soon’ committee.

“Spare me,” Five spat, blowing the spoon full before slurping this time.

Allison approached bedside, setting a cup of tea on the tray and a pitcher on the nightstand. “Mom made you spicy ginger tea for that throat.”

“Thank you, but I don’t need all of this.”

Vanya, still hanging by the door spoke up, “We know you can take care of yourself Five, but you told us yourself that you hadn’t been sick since you were in your early thirties, so this must be hard on you…”

The violinist wasn’t wrong, but Five wasn’t going to admit it. He didn’t have to. After saving Vanya and the end of the world, the Hargreeves were closer than ever - helping the newly powered Number Seven train to control said powers as well as work with their relationships with one another.

Five sighed, “Are the other two really coming?”

“Nah, I’m just messing with you Five-o,” Klaus smiled, already hoisting himself up to his feet, “We just came to give you things to get your energy back in that tiny body.”

“It’s just something going around,” Allison added, “Clair has a bit of a bug too.”

“Vaccinate your kids!” Klaus yelled, receiving a pillow to the face.

“Too damn loud!”

“Ah, see? You’re getting better already; acting more like your grumpy, old man self.”

“Will you all just leave now, please?”

With such a kind word seeing them off, the three visitors of the sickly Number Five took their leave. The door shut behind them, the teen basking in the silence once again. It was a nice headspace - underneath heavy blankets and warming up with a hot meal and beverage that were finally warm enough to ease his sore innards rather than burn them further. Whoa! Allison was right, that was spicy tea.

Having finished his meal slowly but surely, Five truly did feel a little better. Though the ruckus was headache enough, the company was missed. But before Five could remiss, his eyelids suddenly began to grow weight to them, as well as his head. Another nap was coming on.

Five placed the tray to the floor,refilled his tea, taking one more sip, and turned off the light before settling back down into his bed. No thoughts of miscalculations, but days full of health and being with his family. With the care he was receiving, the ever indestructible Number Five would be on his feet in no time.

[clint-stevens]

‘Jeezus, it’s not even seven o’clock ya noisy bastard!’

[podracing-on-lothal]

Jeezus Christ. Maybe I should leave this fandom until the shitstorm blows over.

Mean fans. Unprofessional behavior from LF employees and authors on social media in response to mean fans. Actresses leaving social media due to harassment from assholes they have no truck with. Identity politics versus box office numbers. Directors cashing in on fandom drama and shipping wars. Fans getting into flame wars over dumb details nobody cares about. Human sacrifices. Akk-dogs and Loth-cats living together. Mass hysteria.

I don’t know who to follow or side with anymore without running the risk of getting witch-hunted as a blind shill or a sexist, racist homophobic SW hater.

I just don’t care anymore. I don’t care for the movies like I used to. Sure, TLJ was fun, but it’s hardly the best movie by a long shot. If nothing else, it’s certainly the most divisive of all of them, and it’s left the fandom in an awful state. Releasing Solo while the fallout from TLJ is still fresh in the fans’ minds probably wasn’t a good idea (six months ain’t that long). 

Sheesh. 

I’m just going to use this blog to focus on the cartoons, the first six (or seven, if I feel up to it) movies, books, video games, and anything Thrawn/Chiss-related. If the upcoming Resistance cartoon doesn’t hold my interest, or if there isn’t any new Thrawn/Chiss-related material after Thrawn: Alliances, I’m probably just going to drop off and move on to something else for a while. I’ll keep my blog open, I just won’t be as active. 

[duawheat]

i think i’d rather die.

it’s a lil bevchie friendship thing

•beverly has know richie for about three years and she’d learned a few things about him in that time

•she learned that he prefers camels over marbolos

•she learned that he could fit seven marshmallows in his mouth at once before choking

•she learned that even though he claims to get tons of girls he’s only ever kissed one (sally johnson while playing spin the bottle at a party during freshman year)

•most importantly, she learned that if richie is quiet, then something is wrong

•that’s why when she heads out to the clubhouse needing to be alone after an encounter with her dad and finds him there alone, crying and pretending like he wasn’t, she figures something isn’t right

• “oh shit bev i wasn’t rly expecting anyone to um be here”

•he’s wiping the tears from his eyes and puts on his glasses, he has a bandaid messily applied to his cheek as well as a split lip and a cut on his eyebrow

• “well it’s for everyone isn’t it?” bev says, attempting to make a joke and hoping that richies just crying from pain “what happened?”

• “oh this old thing?” richie points to his face “just bowers you know how it is”

• “that fucker” she sighs “whyd he do it this time”

• “does he ever actually have a reason?” richie looks as bev as he wipes his face again, looking like he still wants to cry

• “hey what’s actually wrong cause bowers never rly gets to you like this?”

• “nothing dude i’m just.... im kinda sick of getting my ass beat y’know”

• beverly feels her throat tighten, feeling nothing but sympathy

• “that’s it?” bev asks. richie is never this quiet even when he’s in pain if anything he talks more to keep his mind off of it

• “yea it just um, it just hurts”

• “oh course it hurts you clearly have no idea how to bandage yourself up jeezus” beverly pokes at the bandaid and richie gently pushes her away with a half-hearted “fuck off”

• “you’re sure that’s it? because you’re crying and being very quiet both of which are things that you don’t do very often and when they happen somethings wrong”

• “mhm i’m totally fine”

• “richie.” beverly gives richie a stern look

• “god bev it’s not like it’s anything they haven’t done before?” richie says rubbing his eyes under his glasses

• “but sometimes it gets to you.” beverly says what she assumes richies thinking

• “yes you’re right sometimes it does but... it’s not that part of it i just.....” richie stares up at the ceiling

• “hey rich,” beverly reaches out and gently places her hand on his knee “ you can tell me anything you know that right?”

• richie looks back at her, finally making eye contact. his eyes are shiny from tears

• “i know bev, i know! i tell you things and you tell me things and i love that- that that’s a thing we can do but there’s just some things that i can’t say. because i think i’d rather die.”

• “richie-“

• “i wanna keep my friends bev, some things should just,” richie sighs and looks at the ground “stay secrets.”

• beverly grabs onto both of richies shoulders and forces him to meet her eyes

• “no matter what it is. there is no way that i’ll stop being your friend, neither will eddie, or stan, or bill, or mike, or ben. they love you and i love you, no matter how much we yell at you for being an annoying asshole we love you and wouldn’t trade you for the world. any sort of secret you have won’t stop us loving you.”

•richie is fully crying again and beverly is almost there

• “i don’t even have the balls to say it bev.” he whispers “you probably already figured it though, everyone in school already does and-“ richie cuts himself off by taking in a shaking breath “fuck.”

•oh

•oh

• “y’know that thing that everyone calls me?” richie looks at the ceiling before meeting her eyes again “they’re right bev. they’re right and i... i cant fucking do anything about it.”

• “i wish it wasn’t the case, i mean.... fuck dude i really wish it wasn’t but it is. i’m...” richie trails off, not able to say it

• “richie... what?”

• “i’m gay, bev.”

• “oh.”

• “ and ok listen i get it if you never wanna talk to me again that’s totally ok you can just walk out of here or i’ll go if you want me to and then i’ll stay out of your hair and-“

• “shut the fuck up.” beverly cuts off richie and his mouth snaps shut “if you think for one second this makes me love you any less or that i will leave you because of this youre sorely mistaken my friend. i told you before nothing you can do or say will make me stop loving you. much less this. i’m proud of you for having the courage to tell anyone and i’m honored to be the first one you tell”

• richie stares at her in bewilderment

• “huh,” he says after a few more seconds “that went over a lot better than i expected”

•they both laugh as beverly pulls richie into her arms for a tight hug.

• “does this mean we can start talking about guys now?” beverly asks, shes never had any girlfriends to talk about guys with and she really needs to be able to point out a cute guy in the mall without whoever’s she’s with just awkwardly agreeing

• richie pulls out of the hug and looks at her “i came to terms with my sexuality about two days ago you really think i’m ready for that?”

• “hmm fine call me when you are.” bev jokes, richie laughs softly

• it’s quiet for a moment, not a bad quiet though

• “hey bev,” richie speaks up “don’t tell anyone please.”

• “oh course not rich, you tell people when you’re ready and you’re the only one who’s allowed to decide when you’re ready, not me or anyone else.”

• “do think the others would be as chill with it as you are?”

• “yeah rich i know they would.”

• “and bev?” richie says after a few seconds of silence.

• “yeah?”

• “i love you too.”

[overhere-series]

Over Here: Chapter Seven

Revised this bad boy. Stay tuned to the very end of it, most of the edits are for some planting plot things so important.

Come morning, Cass’s alarm blares into the silence. At least she doesn’t have any questions about where she is this time round, though she does have one or two about the white jacket thrown over her and the pressure on the crown of her head. She thumbs off her alarm.

Her hands find the bird and scoop him out of her hair so she can sit up. For a second she sits against the trunk of the tree, breathing in the cold morning air, reacclimating to the fact that she hasn’t been spirited back home in her sleep. If she’s going to down the same cocktail of fear and relief every time she wakes up, she’d rather stay up or stay sleeping. One or the other.

The silence cracks her and she taps the bird’s back with a finger. “Up and at ‘em, nerd,” she says. “Wanna explain why you’re so touchy?”

The bird nestles deeper into his wings, feathers poofed like they can shield him from her poking. After enough of her prodding he taps off to a safe distance to change back to a sleepy, stretching human. The shimmer of magic shaping him glows almost gold, rather than that clearish haze she’s almost used to.

Cass hurls his jacket at him. “Don’t let it happen again,” she tells him, mouth twisted at the chuckle worming its way in. Much as she wants to be peeved, her fuzzy morning mind can’t endure the thought of the bird perched on her head without finding it at least microscopically funny.

She gathers her stuff while he shrugs into his jacket. Her flannel tied at her waist, Cass stretches the soreness and the dirt from her back, shuts her phone off and sticks it in her back pocket. Only a sliver of battery left, and she’s not down for the ensuing conversation if she has to use someone else’s phone to call a ride when she’s on Earth again.

Already Winston’s on his knees with the map splayed open, eyes bleary as he scans the lines and shimmer of letters. Whatever’s been added wakes him right up. “Stars above, they’ll have my head for this.”

“Boss finally got wise to your vacation, huh?” Cass asks. A crime lord in a smoky office springs to mind, reading all the bird’s messages with the growing urge to put a hit on his head. Boy, that’d put a damper on their trip.

“It won’t be long before then, no,” he says. “Arth and Finch can only help so much until they come calling again.” His fingers tap at his lips, a loop of oh dear oh dear oh dear probably spinning his brain. He’s reaching for his ink again before Cass nudges him and heads toward the road nearby.

“Buck up, birdbrain. Now you’ve got more reason to hit the bricks.” Like her own situation’s not reason enough.

He just hums and folds the map away. After a few of her warm up stretches they continue from the dirt path to rows of boards over the next while. Sleeping under the tree leaves Cass sore even with all her limbering up, so the level ground is welcome along with the silence.

Still, her stomach’s growling with all the time to dwell on the breakfast stocked in her kitchen back home. Cereal, bagels, apples and oranges- she’d take pop-tarts and granola bars at this point if they’re in for nothing but the cabins and shacks lining the road for now.

“Aren’t we supposed to be finding a train station? Doesn’t look like the kind of town to have one,” she remarks.

The comment gets a grin out of the bird. “We’re nearing it now. Patience.”

She raises a brow. Another fifteen minutes before Winston announces they’ve arrived, but she’s still seeing nothing but dense forest and even more ramshackle, vine-covered houses around them. If it’s Christmas rush, there’s not even evidence of all the people that should be on the move and traveling.

“You’re kidding,” she says.

“Look above us,” he tells her with a wave to the canopy.

She does. All she can muster is a low ‘jeezus’.

The spindly trees rise and rise, stories above them until they jolt out at angles so precise it can’t be natural, branches so sturdy they can support the floors of treehouses like none she’s ever seen up close. Even the smallest houses take up three trees each, some spanning half a dozen firs in long platforms to compose apartments or shopping strips with leaves covering the outsides in a rainbow of Over Here foliage. On and on and on until there’s no gaps in the branches for what could be miles ahead.

Winston just watches her hungry stare with a fond grin. “Quite the achievement, yes? I hear dryad tribes can make better use of the land as well as the trees.”

Cass clenches her jaw, recovers from the initial shock of the sight. Her mouth’s in a neutral line before she speaks, even if she can’t meet the bird’s eyes. “You left out how the hell we’re getting up there.”

He nods toward a line of people in the distance, all centered around a trunk with a giant dumbwaiter grafted to the side. Well, elevator, but it’s wood and uncovered. Just looking at it wigs her out, but so does the staircase wound around the tree. Either the rails are too long, irregular branches or a line of branches fused at the ends to look like it. Logs form the steps.

Winston heads for the stairs, something she’s sort of grateful for with the line to the elevator. Better not to make a scene if she can’t keep it together, the stairs the road less traveled since it’s more than a few stories up. She balls her fists. Just look up and it’ll all be fine.

She takes a deep breath and bolts up ahead of the bird. Keep him behind her and she can’t fall, whether she trips from nerves or a log crumbles. They’re living wood so nowhere near rotting and splintering apart, but better for her to think she has a backup if something goes down.

The rails feel smooth under her hands as they climb higher and higher. A few snags of splinters here and there, but no nails or seams in the wood. Her hands warm along with a thick, stifling part of her chest.

At the top there’s a curved platform filled with magicians in various states of distress. Many of them bearing suitcases or Mary Poppins-style carpet bags, kids who try to escape or cling to their parents’ legs, animals running around that could be shapeshifter people or pets. Does this world have pets?

They manage to get through the rows of people waiting to get into the city, edge through a crowd to a less dense outdoor mini-mall. On a clement summer day like this one, the business owners take advantage of the foot traffic via an overflow of products from their doors. Under awnings lay spreads of clothes, tools, samples of food… it’s like the Saturday market up in Portland, minus the scent of fried food and legalized green wafting on the breeze.

Cass drags Winston toward a place littered with signs and flags. Another magical diner like the Fausts’, by the look of it, just spiffier. Going from a small town Starbucks to an airport Starbucks, almost. An inhuman titter escapes Winston when he sees the place has coffee. Cass plows through a plate of hashbrowns and fresh fruit at the counter, the bird downing his coffee straight black with a contented grin.

Among the calm of it Cass can more or less forget they’re above the forest floor, held up by nothing but platforms and boards. A radio drones on the counter beside them, news about Haven and some place called simply the Bay and a few others. Tiny red flowers grow through its grate like they did others she’s seen.

Winston’s worry over the map seems to have mellowed, too, though he stiffens at a note by the announcer. Something about a Tribunal making some broadcast on the festival night.

“Who’re they?”

“Who are who?”

“This tribunal,” she points out. “You just jumped out of your seat for a sec. What are they, your court or something?”

“I believe they’ve been compared to presidents in your world. Three presiding leaders elected by the public. We’re… not particularly friendly with them at the moment.”

“Jeez, how many people did you piss off before leaving?” she mutters.

Winston makes no reply. He scribes a message before they make for the train station. Honestly Cass can spend the whole day here just gawking at the intricate vinework ceilings, the focals being sold by vendors like wood rings and what might be wands or staffs, ink like the bird carries but radios and Earth stuff, too. Winston notes her shifting expressions with that same fond smile, but he’s quick to get them to a pavilion getting clogged with people.

Where he stops, right at the edge of the crowd. His eye twitches like he’d rather take a path of broken glass to Haven than push to the main counter. Cass grabs his hand and tugs him toward an exhausted man overseeing the ticket sales. The bird murmurs a flurry of apologies to anyone unlucky enough to be in her way.

The man at the counter slouches over the counter on his forearms, lips pursed at Cass along with the cloud of customers around the pair. Each crane around to read something behind the guy. Meanwhile, Cass is taking the direct route.

“When’s the next train to Haven?” Cass yells up to him.

“Can’t you read?” he moans. A chalkboard schedule hangs on the wall, what the people around are squinting for. Dusty letters hover off the black. “There ain’t anymore this morning for sale.”

“What about later?”

“Morning, noon, night- it’s festival, there ain’t any trains that aren’t crammed,” the man insists.

“Cass, he’s right,” Winston says, shaken but putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Everything’s sold out.” The man props his chin on his hand, examines his nails as travelers roll their eyes and begin to disperse. “Only thing to make it worse would be-”

Cass grips the counter. “Do not say it,” she hisses.

The bird takes her by both shoulders, mostly to keep her from jumping the ticket seller. There’s gasps among the crowd. Shouts about the lights flickering. A fuzzy sputter and the ticket salesman groans.

His slack arms flail left and right, like eventually he’ll land a gesture at the cause of his problems if he keeps it up. “Last thing we need! If it’s not a vine down or a rail needs reinforced it’s a gwyll or some whacked up kid wrecking power to the whole slice of treelines.”

Cass looks to the bird. “You think it’s a you-know-what?” she asks.

Winston blinks. Looks up into the vines woven into the ceiling, eyes narrowed. “The current is cut off but not non-existent. The magic’s been drained more than a human could cope with.”

“Meaning we can fix it.” Cass slaps her hand on the counter. The ticket salesman pouts at her. “It’s your lucky day, bud. You got some wardens.” And they’ve got a way onto a train.

The salesman looks between the pair. A quick ‘come here’ gesture of his fingers. Cass drags Winston into the room behind the sales counter.

The office back behind the ticket counter is stuffy once the front window closes. Their ticket seller has his shoulders hunched in, hand spidering at his side like he’s got a gun in his holster. His face flickers through a series of hums and mouth twists as he considers them. Finally he grunts. “You got an hour and some difference. Think you can fix it by then?” he asks.

“Definitely, but we’re going to need tickets.”

“Cass,” Winston chides, but doesn’t go further. Like he knows it’s a clever ploy, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.

“Am I wrong?” she prompts.

“We could indeed remove the gwyll in that time or less, yes,” he reasons. “But… I agree that compensation would be rather appreciated. Even if it isn’t a seat, we do need to get to Haven to complete some other duties to prevent more incidents like this.”

The ticketmaster shrugs. “Fine. Get things up and running and it’s all yours.”

It’s all Cass can do not to pump her fist. Victorious, and all they’ve got to do is do what they did yesterday. Which is, granted, facing a horrific monster and possibly being mindtricked again. She knows what she’s getting into now, though.  She folds her arms. “Got it.”

After giving them a quick rundown for where to go, the ticketmaster taps his temple and shoos them out. Cass offers her fist to the bird once they’re out of the station. “Ready?” she asks.

“For?” Staring at the fist. Of course.

“You put your fist on it.”

He puts his fist on the top of hers, beaming if a bit more anxious than last time’s adventure. The gesture’s almost like a little yin-yang, actually, with the curl of their fingers as the dots. They’ll work on it.

“Cool,” she approves. “You’ve learned the great Earth custom of the fistbump. Sort of.”

[sysig]

TAZ Ep. 57 Liveblog

The episode isn't even out yet and I'm going to Actually Die

IT'S HERE

FRICK

RED ROBES RIGHT OFF THE BAT JUST KILL ME NOW

GAME OVER

MAGNUS REMEMBERS

I'M DYING ACTIVELY RIGHT NOW I'M DYING AND WE'RE ONLY 30 SECONDS IN

CAM IS HERE IN THE REMINDER

Aight aight aight

We're back to being caught up

I AM ALREADY CUSSING INTRO MAN

*aggressively hums along*

Abso-fricken'-lutely

Someone get this man some wooden dice

Well frick??

Dexterity saving throw please

Uhm

WOAH

Right right

Hot dang why are you here RR

Of course you have Taako, you are TV

Why you laugh

"Burly"

MORE HECKING MUSIC

Oh gosh

IS THIS WONDERLAND ROUND 3???

It's hecking good that's what

Oh good

Thank, at least you're taking care of my boy's body

But you can heal Magnus tho, I think that'd count?

Oh! Stats, good

HAHAHA

Good one Griffi

I mean

Oooh

In a tiny wooden body vs. the arm-pulling Mango body

Well

Are you ticklish

Oh nice

Ruff boi, that's what

What a shocker

Oh shit

Please no, my boy is made of wood

Hmmmmmm imagine

I mean yeah

Mango is going to die in a mannequin, and then I'll die

Not against Railsplitter thank you

Aw Merle ;;

Hey no, trees are wood

FRICK

NO

MY BOY

I KNEW IT I CALLED IT

MERLE'S DEAD

NO HE'S DEAD SHUT UP

HNG

Pretty much, you're right

HAH

HOT HECK NICE

GRIFF YOU WERE RIGHT

I just noticed how long this episode is, nice

Yeas

100%

Heh, nice~

Well if one didn't work, let's try 10

Hot dang, cast that on Magnus, he'll be great

WAIT NO DON'T ATTACK MANGO'S BODY

Okay 2d6 isn't that bad, and he was just healed I guess

Jeez tho

I think Taako's made a death save once

I mean yeah, you're right

Why is this exactly what somebody said once, why is this accurate

No ;;

I mean I'm glad he saved but like

Please no more fives Merle

What the heck

JEEZ

JEEZ

I

Heh

While the other mannequins are there?

That's cute

Oooh nice, get to see the Magnetic Charge, that's neato

I'm not dying yet, this is either a good sign or a terrible terrible sign

Carey taught you so well <3

Clipped into the belt, got it memorized

Hahah, he just like floats the armour

Poor mannequin

Bye glasses, I didn't know you were metal

Don't need glasses if you're dead *touches temple*

Taako

It's time to stop

Vocal chords are? Physical?

Haha, you have to charismatically call the Lance

FRICK YEAH, that's awesome

Stop smiling, Edward, you lost the Charisma roll

GRIFFIN

DON'T

I DON'T TRUST YOU IN THIS VERY MOMENT

THE MOMENT YOU STARTED CLAPPING

Okay nevermind this is good and I trust you

I hate this but this is very good

FRICK

"Is Magnus going to tear off his own arms" this still counts okay

What the frick

He literally unarmed you

What

Uhm

More music and now I don't trust it

"Great pain" inner peace?

Oh hey I know that thing

Alright...

Wait but it didn't come back? Either way I like

Like two moons?

I

You mean Faerun? Not Magnus' home?

Who said shit, but I agree

Great thanks

Six rounds, s'all good

She float

Merle is dead, be quiet

Hahah

Noice, good work Taako

Why are we still attacking Magnus' body tho, please stop?

Merle

Both of you, you need to stop

I mean according to Clint you're not wrong??

Protection from both? Why

That sounds wildly helpful, maybe shoulda led with that?

Hey maybe don't

What??

You're still floating, how long does Levitation last

Why are you talking to the Red Robe this is the weirdest thing

HE ONLY NEEDS 1HP GIVE IT TO HIM PLEASE

Hey maybe don't die tho?

What, why, he only needed 1 please maybe don't?

You said you had 4, he literally only needed 1, why are you like this

Frick you Cam

HAHA NICE

Gross X3

Ooh

Bless you Merle

Don't kill my son

He doesn't have thAT MANY HP STOP ROLLING DICE

And now Taako is dead, great

Sleepy soul boy

I like how "the" is not part of Chance Lance's name

HEY MAYBE DON'T DO THAT??

3d10....

Okay good, yes

DOG PILE ON EDWARD

I can envision that so well, thank you Griffi

Oh

Is Edward gonna be eated?

Oh shit

WHILE DEAD

So badass

JEEZUS EDWARD IS DEADWARD

I can't imagine why

Well jeez, wish we could stop that but ah...dead

Ohp

WOAH

Yeah man same

"Wrong with her" Hmmmm

How 'bout that Suffering there Lydia?

Damn...

DAMN

WHAT??

NO

HOW COULD YOU

FRUK

HEY BBY NOT READY FOR THIS ADVERTISEMENT ZONE

You are definitely my clock, thank you

HNG

Aight time to check the tumblees and see how much everyone else is dying

We can't have gotten to the point where Griffi's heart was beating super fast...can we? It's gotta still be up the line, I'm scared very thank you

I love this fanfic in the Shout Box, this is great

No it's great Griffi, we've got it, we got it five years ago

Thank, all I ask is that you give my boys their proper resolutions, thank again

Ah man, please record it, I want to see that please please please

On Tumblr - there was a vore thing? I missed it very much? It did not register I have to relisten to this immediately

"Oh btw MBMBAM TV" It's good bby, I want to watch it so much

Griffin

GRIFFIN

WHEN YOU SAY THINGS LIKE THIS I GET 20% MORE SCARED EVERY TIME

I TRUST YOU BUT ALSO FRICK YOU

March 2nd, hnnnggg

THIS MUSIC IS POPPIN' THO IT'S TOTALLY ROUND 3 HOLY

Taako's dead and Magnus' body is gone and Merle is frickin' almost dead again

LICHES GET STITCHES YUP

Magnus

Yay ;u; Steven the fish is fine

I believe you Mango

Hahah

"Heal't"

Red Robe hey, shut up

Can mannequins be enthralled

Hahaha

Magnus would hate that, it's true

Well shit great wonderful good

Thank, yes, thank for explicitly breaking my heart

Kill the building, kill it

Save Rowan and co.

Hmmmmm that doesn't sound good

Ayyyyy

Good job boys

Only problem is MAGNUS' BODY IS GONE

MAYBE DON'T

Woah??

Thank you Antonia ;;

Yeah just a little

Hahah, "I lost my pinkie" "Are you a mannequin?"

Hahaha

Antonia you are lovely

But where is Rowan and Sterling, I'm concerned

HAHAHAH Oh Taako, friendship wins the day

Ay there's Sterling

Now where's my other son

What

Woah, too much

But the halflings?

But why Merle? Taako was the most hurt?

I'm just confused, gotta relisten

YAY ROWAN

But yeah, no, this is kinda important I guess

"Having a fit" accurate

"Your arm is wood, my whole body is wood AND I'm missing an arm"

More memories, frick

OH SHIT

Hide something............terrifying

HNG

Insignia

What does it look like tho

Also music

JUNE AND JACK

OH MY GOD IT TOTALLY IS THO???

FRICK

FRICK FRICK FRICK FRICK

FRIIICK

Yeah no

Magnus I can think of things for you to lose but uh

Oh yeah, they're out of Wonderland now

MY SPECIAL BOY

How long has he been calling ;;

Hahah

FRICK

RED ROBE

Taako please

Ango, gone already no ;;

There's only 10 minutes left, what's gonna pop off

Tomorrow hahahahahahahahahaha

Hold up, gotta whisper into a coin

Aw Merle ;u; The beach dwarf leading the party

Oh how homey

Wait is this

Oh gosh, oh man, ahhhh nooo

Finally my boys rest ;;;;

Mannequin dreams anD THE MUSIC RETURNS

Okay, yeah, the Voidfish touched on this

Is this because his body is dead?

Ohh shoot, a whole book

Larry Burnsides

OH SHIT THERE IT IS

HOLY SHIT

~We're following the Red Robe~

IT'S THE PLACE??

IT'S THE PLACE

WHERE'S THE POD

THERE IT IS

SHIT

EPILOGUE IS HERE

DOUBLE SHIT

TRIPLE FRICK SHIT I KNEW IT

WOAH WHAT

"I P R E"

Yeah by like seven years

WAIT WHAT

WELL OKAY THEN, GREAT

How the heckle do you attach a Lich to a body

I'm

Hey y'know what I'm super into that, I love the truth from the BOB

Also hey, amnesia, the hardest thing to successfully pull off

Shit

A humanman

You can frickin' hear that smile

ALSO HEY I HATE THAT LINE 

I HATE THIS

I HATE THIS SO MUCH

I HATE THIS I HATE THIS I HATE THIIIIIIIIIS

JEEZUS I HATE YOU GRIFFIN SO MUCH

I HATE THIS OH MY GOD

BARRY'S FRICKING BACK AND I HATE EVERYTHING

FRICK YOU

Well alright then. Here’s to another two frickin’ weeks