#His ass is planed to die in a horrible horrible way and I am here for it

[daretobeking]

Okay okay okay

TR in VTM @coolcattime (if you want an explanation of what my silly words mean i have much to share)

Sonja would be a Gangrel 100% especially with how the Gangrel treat their fledgling vampires. On their own from the moment they die until they meet another Gangrel and answer their riddles correctly (aka tell them they’ve been on their own for a year and lived)

Tucker I’m on the fence for, leaning toward Tzimisce cause of the body horror but also the Tremere are the ones with blood magic…. I think he'd probably best settle as Banu Haqim with the eye for an eye you kick me I break your leg type justice

Tom would be a Brujah with the same certainty that Sonja would be a Gangrel. Silly cockroach guys with issues with authority who have a history of fucking with Bad Things. If we were to translate him becoming mecca-dianite then he could get Baali’d cause they’re the only vampires who can just eat your bloodline if I remember right

Jordan as a Salubri. Ianite’s either his Sire or in his bloodline and doing the ancestry whisper thing to him. It’s so silly over there in 3 eye land

Wag could be so funny in about any of the clans but there are two main ideas i have. 1. He'd fit in with the Tremere because of the them previously being mages before they became vampires thing. Also I think it'd just be really silly if all the Wizards are in the vampire cult on a technicality. They're not bound or anything they're just there for research purposes. Also for their medical access. 2. He's a Nosferatu! Human shaped but by god does he not look human. He's just chilling though he lives in the sewers like the rat he is (affectionate) Grey skin red eyes dripping what looks like blood sharp fingers big cloak animal-ish legs. Also Nossies doing illegal shit is so funny to me. bullets cant kill him and whats someone gonna do if they see him? "hey officer i saw a demon selling coke down that dark alley"

And for snippets of just. Things I think about them

Tucker and Tom’s predator type is Montero. They hunt together and make a whole fucked up game of it. Speaking of predator types, Sonja's is Alleycat so she just drops in on people and leaves, Jordan's a Pursuer because he gets to get silly with it as a treat, and Wag's a Sandman where he just sneaks into peoples houses and gives them a munch and crawls away like a lizard.

Tom also totally diablarized Dianite. It was really fucked up actually he pukes when he drinks kindred blood now because of the taste

Sonja never really got a Gangrel mentor even a few years after she was turned because she never figured out it was __ winters like what sane person would respond that way. She figured most things out on her own though

Jordan with his three eyes is so silly to me. His hair's kind of long in the front to cover it up but that's not the best solution so he literally has one of those big thick fabric headbands covering it. he says its to keep his hair out of his face. he looks RIDICULOUS

Wag stole his cloak from a larper and embroidered it himself to make it fit his vibe more. He also just shows up in random places through sewer grates like a horror movie monster because he can. More than once he's scared the SHIT out of the rest of the team by just talking when they don't know he's there or reaching out and grabbing their ankles. He has a tally for who he can get to scream the most

Tucker's perhaps gone a little insane and given in to the Voices but that's okay. It's not like there's an old as fuck vampire at the end of that path who wants to eat him or something. Also his old name when he was mortal was in fact Jericho, and sometimes the rest of the Coterie call him that to get his attention when they're in a rush. He hates it but damn does it work

[bamboobrat]

succession s4 e3 recap: i just called to say are you a cunt? 2/2

part 1

how are we dealing so far? personally, i am not.

tom calls his boyfriend with the news of logan's death, which turns out to be a huge mistake because greg is a dipshit with no poker face and a simp for journalist ass.

guys, i even feel bad for tom. wtf is this episode.

roman is still in denial.

the genius of the writers confirmed: i spent ages wondering if it was real myself, since we never really saw logan and it felt unreal. so thanks for the torture, i guess.

just as the kids receive news they have stopped doing compressions, the ship leaves the dock.

stress level: uncut gems.

hugo is here.

if i saw this man on the worst day of my life i would jump ship.

he informs the sibs that the board is drafting a statement and the reactions are who tf asked.

we see a shift from grief to strategy. new leadership means they need to position themselves.

tom wants people to know he was with logan as he died. karl, gerri and frank need their name on the statement. and although the healthy thing probably would be to grieve in peace, the kids need to stake their claim too.

calling a confrontation in a karaoke bar a family function is controlling the narrative. words are just complicated airflow.

this screenshot is just in here because it has gerri in it.

roman continues his denial tour, this time featuring gerri.

bla bla bla the marked bla bla bla stock prices bla bla shiv casually suggests they leave the plane in the air for a while because of business.

shoot logan into deep space for all i care.

inside you there are two wolves: one who cares about legacy and one that is suicidal.

in this scenario, i would be connor:

actually, i'm shiv, turns out:)))

i'm sure the mommy issues comes as a surprise to no one.

kendall is on the funeral planning commitee.

"funeral off the rack" was the alt title of this week's recap.

and then, just as roman has pointed out they can just be children who have lost their fathers, who need to grieve, rumors of logan's health leak.

fucking greg.

i'm always here for a good sibling huddle.

how "inspirational quote on a boomer facebook group" of them to believe they are actually needed at waystay.

don't stop believing and all that.

i repeat, don't stop believing:

you go, gerri, give him nothing!!!!:(

the way she looked so concerned for them when she entered the room:(( but then he acted like an asshole:((( and now everything is horrible:((((

WE ARE LOSING THE LESBIANS!

DOSE OF FANFIC NEEDED, STAT!

help

help!!!

indeed. how will i ever survive the six days leading up to the next episode?

(it's fanfiction, the answer is fanfiction)

i know that hugo referred to the journos when he said he had briefed "their friendliest" but i like to believe he's talking about shiv.

guys, i'm so drained.

more business. logan is the stock price. anthropomorphic shit that would probably mean something if i cared enough to focus on logan rn.

HUG!!!!!

at this point, it seems impossible that these three will turn on each other, but a lot can happen in seven episodes.

roman's adhd brain needs visual conformation.

this is very important, says woman who forgets the produce if it's at the back of the fridge.

connor wins this episode.

he got his way: statue of liberty, weirdly patriotic band, no cake.

the healthiest relationship in this show is the one that is openly transactional.

speaking of transactional relationships: shiv goes home with tom under the pretense that he has to explain to her the details of what happened on the plane.

what are we thinking? is there hope? (of course not) do we care? (i do, i do a little)

we end on kendall alone and the siblings separated. bad omen.

"i'll be broken when you die"

we await an unpredictable road ahead, friends. buckle up, fuckleheads.

part 1

[danihwang882]

Yes you can be light and a witch. Its better to be choosen that way than working for the devil. Think about whom's side will honestly save you vs whom would let you drown in your misery and problems. The devil wont save, only God/Jesus does. You know whom learned this lesson through me, my ex and bestie BamBam and I learned it through him. Glad I get to call you my geniune friend again Bammie. :) Always be on his good side, God. Or else he will storm spite your asses again with a thunder storm for me like all of the times beforehand. Wanna die to 10,000 bolt of lightening, I think not even I am scared of that. But I am the crazy that will go out in a long disance thunder storm unphased.

TMI BamBam and his second in command Mr. Point of View always used to whine and yapper to me when their was a storm of rain or thunder. Felix will go out in it and enjoy the rain thats what makes him unique and so loved by me. Because dispite everything storm wise I would cross oceans for Felix. Thats my greatest fear too, a plane crash in either ocean to get there. I would face it for the loves of my life.

PAY BACK FEELS GOOD Mr. Bhuwakul. You knew that waS COMING THOUGH. I still like you as my bestie.

Finally hearing it. :) Bam Bam the levels of hell that are reperisented in your music video purely your creative talents. Only I would get that shit. BamBam was my reason for choosing Light. <3 As above so below right Bammie? Thank you for finding inspiration in me as your ex. </3 The war of heaven and hell repesnted in this one music video alone. Thank you. We can co-exist and co-create together always the angels and demons. Thank you sincerely for teaching me at my point of duality what it was like to love you. Your still extremely special to me, but no personal boundies crossed please. <3 Earth is a whole another next level playground of light and dark mixing in themselves, each other, and one another. I AM SO DAMN PROUD OF YOU KUNIPOOK BHUWAKUL. MORE HAPPY TEARS THAN SAD. Bam's next chicka better make him happy because I will kill you if you ever wrong this man. I hope you know Bambam my memorial tattoo is also to match mark with his haibius tattoo. The little things i still do for you Bammie. The vape thats slowly kiling me matches your Ribbon Era. You are always welcome here, in my home with Felix or Hyunjin watching you like the phenonix you are.

i OWE Bammie a bouqguet of friendship, yellow and white? Maybe?~

Around BamBam and All Members of Stray Kids I would pull off my amystest protection for you all. I want to empathically evovle my energy around you all and create something beauitful for both your groups, because we have mega love between us as JYP past and present. Bam you have no idea how your friendship heals me for Felix and Hyunjin.

I truely feel I was meant to change all of your lives. As you are trying to do for me.

A part of my life that still resonates within me.

GOT7 AS SOLOIST ARE STILL FUCKING RESPECTED AND CARED FOR. Straykids together always. MY HEART.

why pit you guys against each other as long as boundies arent crossed?! WE all love, you are all are worthy and deserveing. Jackson thank you for teaching me even when I feel horrible and not worthy and in pain that I am.

I am admitting right fucking now! I CANT DO IT WITHOUT YOU ALL.

Bam and Jackson your forgiven. =^.^=

Do yall understand how Bangs and Felixs voice combined makes me calm down after an emotional all nighter at home drinking?> Lost track of time 6:12 am no sleep.

[user98347501938475]

what a fun weekend i am currently having. friday morning woke up to no cuddles and steve on his phone he couldnt even look up to say good morning. then i made the mistake of kicking his laundry basket out of my way in the hallway twice so that means i deserve to get some nasty text messages at 6am. great way to start my day having to apologize, again, with no apology to me for anything, for "already ruining his day" and his reply, "you ruin most of em."

this text thread caused me to go into another spiral of depression, suicidal ideation, that i called my mom later that night and ask her to take me to the hospital because i wanted to hurt myself or go get blackout drunk. 22 days sober today btw woohoo!

so after being given the silent treatment all day, i am sitting crying in the office and steve took himself out to sushi, arcade, and movie date. not a care in the world that i said i was feeling suicidal and wanted to kill myself. but my mistake i made the comment you win and all i get in response is doesnt feel like winning. jesus fucking christ your wife is telling you she wants to end her life you dont give a fuck. honestly that was it for me. i dont think any amount of counseling will save this shit show.

for context when steve threatened to take his life early on in our relationship, i was threatening to call the police i was freaking out banging on his door and took all the fucking shoelaces out of his shoes because he said he had just tried to hang himself in his closet. then i stayed with him to make sure he wasnt going to do anything. and this same man doesnt even ask or care where i will be when i tell him ill be gone for three days, a 72 hour hold possibly.

so my mom and the dr said i would be okay to go home and be under supervision for the night LMAO still gonna wanna die tomorrow but okay cool. literally unless you have active cuts or say im going to go home and kill myself they wont give you any help. and just a thought. people who want to die, me specifically, is embarassed that i am such a failure at life that youre going to make me admit to you that i dont want to be here out loud and then be told youre okay go home. i just dont understand how there is no mental help for anyone living in this shithole society.

my future will be divorced and living in a little shitty apartment by myself and never leave and never make any new friendships or relationships because i cannot make friends and date. i have way too much fucking trauma. i mean my husband doesnt care if i die and my only friend, a gay man, but man none the less, cant even drive home to be with me because hes at his moms house getting drunk,(( his mom who wouldnt move her fat ass to bail him out)) .has been using me as a gooddamn vent stress doll because he was going to be arrested and i told him he would be arrested he didnt listen to me or take any of my advice. this friend needs a whole post of his own. but anyway, guess who was taking care of his loud annoying untrained chiuaua until fucking midnight and driving to lake elsinore to get your truck and then go to the bail bonds place, all of which was extremely stressing and then he gets out keeps me up until 2 am to tell me all about how horrible it was, congratulations welcome to the club of being arrested, maybe just maybe you should have listened to your "friend" when she told you how horrible it would be. but youre a fucking moron and thought the cops woould be NICE to you wtaf.

i dont even have the energy or like xmas spirit to put up my tree. i sure as fuck dont want to celebrate the holiday with steve. he cant even understand that i wanted to visit his family just not during the holiday hysteria. so what does steve do? he buys us $2000 worth of plane tickets to leave DEC 23 and return the 27. UHM WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. i guess you heard me but just dont fucking care what i want ever. or his concern for my arthritus and nausea he doesnt fucking care. HIS family is more important than his wife, obviously how could i be so stupid. i will never be anyone prioirty i have to make myself the priority. and he was shady as fuck acting like i thought we were on the same page...... yeah maybe buit we're reading two spearate fucking books dude. idfk how you could think my wife said she doesnt want to travel during the holidays means leave 2 fucking days before christmas.

so now hes going by himself and leaving the day after christmas at noon and then returning NEW YEARS EVE at ELEVEN FUCKING THIRTY AT NIGHT. boy better get a uber home. dont even fucking ask me to drive to LAX or JWA or wherever the fuck you land because you havent even told me which airline you booked, he probably doesnt even know. the way he buys plane tickewts its just whats cheapest on the day i wanna go idgaf about how horrible the time or airline is. but yeah glad that our first new years as a couple, married as well, that we could have had a new years kiss. but you planned to land on new years eve. he just doesnt think or care about anything i care or think about. we are so fucking wrong for each other.

im so glad i can write here since i only get therapy once a week and steve said he doesnt want to hear me "trauma dumping" or if hes already heard the story he doesnt want to hear it again. thank goodness for the void of internet.

[onbearfeet]

I'm gonna add a thing here.

I had--have, thank God--a cousin who was working in lower Manhattan on 9/11. He was four months out of college for industrial design. He likes blending aesthetics and efficiency; when his first design (a soap dispenser) was produced, he gave one of the first production models to our grandmother because he was so proud. I inherited it when she died, and I still have it because even though it's yellow and orange and I don't like those colors, it's a damn good soap dispenser, made of durable parts that will probably outlive me like they did her. That soap dispenser is the best possible description of my cousin: sturdy, practical, cares about other people in small, useful ways. He's a giant nerd about the kinds of things that almost no one cares about but someone SHOULD, like a soap dispenser that doesn't gum up. He's the opposite of enshittification in human form.

I still don't know exactly which building he was in, only that it was "to the left of the shot that's on all the news channels". (The shot on all the news channels was FIRE.) He was in his little entry-level design-apprentice cubicle that day, and he saw the planes hit the towers next door. One thing that doesn’t get mentioned a lot in the history lessons was that a lot of infrastructure in NYC broke down on 9/11. Rickety-ass 2001 cell networks were not up to the task of thousands of people trying to call their loved ones over and over. Some public transit just stopped running. There were apocalyptic photos of ash-frosted people hiking over the bridges because the trains couldn't take them out of the city.

My cousin was one of those people. He didn't have a cell phone, and nobody around him had one that worked, so for about 24 hours, nobody in the family knew what had happened to him. He walked out over one of the bridges and just kept going until he reached a functioning rail line that could get him close to his mom's house in New Jersey. She didn't know he was alive until he walked in her door. (Of course he had a key. Who wouldn't give him one? The worst he'd do was make her toaster work better when she wasn't looking.)

I'm not going to defend the American reaction to 9/11 because I'm neither a fool nor a torture apologist. But I would bet cash money that there were a lot of people like my cousin who worked one building over from him and didn't go home that day. And saying that he deserved to die on 9/11 rather than fall in love a year later, get married, move to Minnesota, give his mom the world's cutest grandkids and go on designing damn good soap dispensers is, at best, horribly misguided.

The people who didn't make it home that day weren't inherently better or worse than the ones who did. Believing someone deserved to die because of where they were on a particular morning is, well, pretty much the exact attitude that sent those planes into those towers. It's also the same mentality that drone-bombs wedding processions.

9/11 was big and loud and historically significant and deeply fucked up and it was also full of people--good, bad, and every shade in between. My cousin's not a perfect human being; he's just some dude who likes to make good soap dispensers. He doesn't deserve to be boom-murdered any more or any less than anyone else.

I am reminded of the Terry Pratchett quote about sin.

"Sin, young man, is when you treat people like things. Including yourself. That's what sin is."

I have to take a moment to pause and post this as it hits so close to home for me personally.

I am electing to "borrow" and repost something I saw posted last year as it is so poignant. I hope you take a few moments in the next few hours to reflect.

On this day, 22 years ago (9/10/2001):

🔹️246 people went to sleep in preparation for their morning flights

🔹️2,606 people went to sleep in preparation for work in the morning

🔹️343 firefighters went to sleep in preparation for their morning shift.

🔹️60 police officers went to sleep in preparation for morning patrol

🔹️8 paramedics went to sleep in preparation for the morning shift

None of them saw past 10:00am on Sept 11, 2001.

In one single moment, life may never be the same.

As you live and enjoy the breaths you take today and tonight, before you go to sleep in preparation for your life tomorrow, kiss the ones you love, snuggle a little tighter, and never take one second of your life for granted.

[fishmongeringstudies]

opening scene, six am, scrambled eggs stuck to your economy class seat

the first thing i bought in america was a stick of deodorant. i'd left mine in singapore though i could've sworn i'd stuck it in my suitcase before i got on the plane, in the turquoise pouch with the chipped zipper beside the advil that would sit there, forgotten, for the next thirteen weeks and a travel-sized bottle of hand sanitizer that smelled like well-fermented ass. it turns out your memory fails you when you're getting ready to leave everything you've ever known behind, even if the place you're headed for has looked like a hammered michelangelo's impression of salvation for most of your life. it was that kind of time. i was out of my mind and found the space beneath my feet where one expects floor to be empty for most, if not all, of my waking moments. of course i forgot about the deodorant. the real surprise was that i thought i'd remember at all.

the first thing i bought when i got on campus was a bottle of mineral water. it took me two days to realize that the star trek-esque metal fitting built into the wall on the first floor of my dorm building was meant to dispense drinking water and not tiny silver men that would kill me in my sleep, and three to realize that none of the water coolers in this place were functional. jamming my thumb into the button while no longer expecting anything to happen, i was reminded, suddenly and abruptly, that we were in the middle of a pandemic. i resisted the urge to rub my eye with the back of my hand and went back up to my room, where already a small army of plastic bottles had begun to accumulate on an empty shelf.

the first person i spoke to here is not a good person, but not a particularly bad one either. he is selfish and has half-eaten dinner plates for eyes and thinks the world is the size of his fist, which is how most people are when they're eighteen, especially the boys, especially the ones who've never had to answer to the horrible, searching x-ray question, what are you? i only hope he grows out of it. i will not be the one to make him. perhaps he should make an appointment with god.

the first time i cried in america was when i was born (austin, texas, april 25th, 2001). it hasn't happened since.

today i cross the street from the campus bookstore to the bank, thumbing my passport in the pocket of my hoodie to make sure it hasn't fallen out, to make sure they'll be able to identify my body if i'm ever found somewhere wet and starless (behind a beat-up denny's would be good, though i'm not against the idea of waffle house). i spend five minutes standing awkwardly in front of the empty counter, shifting my weight from one foot to the other, before i notice the print-out saying something about online check-ins and virtual consultations. i ignore it. when i finally work up the courage to speak to someone the teller makes me scan the QR code with my phone anyway. eight hours later, long after i've opened my first bank account in america and gotten a bona fide american debit card, bright orange like they're afraid i'm going to drop it on the street if it's the color of slate (i will anyway, because god made me full of homosexuality and hubris and i intend to live up to his expectations), and discovered that i am, in fact, capable of holding a conversation with two strangers a decade my senior who both have wedding rings and big adult smiles and soft adult voices, i get a text back. good news, it says. we're ready to serve you now.

the spring semester ends today. when i was typing up my powerpoint on why i should be allowed to go to america for college at four a.m. last december i remember looking up the duration of the spring semester on the school website. look, i told my mom, while frantically clicking through fifteen pointless, but very cool animations on google slides with my other hand. it's only until may twenty-first. it's not that long. but it's long enough.

it isn't long enough. three months is barely enough time to get someone to trust you enough to tell you what they think about when they're lying awake in bed at three o'clock in the morning and they have to pee but they're starting to drift off and if they get up now they'll never fall asleep ever again in their life. and this is a country we're talking about. the worst one there is. the loudest, the proudest, the weirdest; the closest to the proverbial heart of man. the one that's the happiest to fuck the world up, over and over again. this is not your standard courtship ritual. this is a lifelong investmnet.

one time someone told me he'd always thought he was straight. but then i met you, he said, his brows scrunched together in a way that was both unattractive and made me want to pinch his cheeks together until there was nothing left in between. so what does that make me? imagine i'm standing in that room again but a little removed from the scene. i stare into the camera like i'm in the office. i don't have a fucking clue, i say blankly. why the fuck are you asking me?

there is something about people who have never been forced to consider the question of what constitutes their fundamental identity as a human being. they're so happy, but in the way that toddlers are before they realize that melted ice cream doesn't taste as good as the frozen stuff and things that die, like, actually don't come back to you even if you hold a funeral for the ant you accidentally squished and stop drinking soda for a week and make sure not to step on all the white tiles in the hallway outside your apartment. i imagine all of the happy cishets in the world poised on the edge of a very tall building. what's at the bottom of the drop? i dunno. you'll have to ask them.

recently i acquired seven bottles of nail polish from a friend who was trying to clear out her collection before leaving for the summer. i keep forgetting people are leaving for the summer, and now they've all left. reality hits you like a horse's ass across the cheek. it's warm. it's soft. it smells unpleasant but in a way that makes you want to keep smelling it even though at the back of your mind you know that this isn't going to improve your mental, physical, or spiritual health, and yet in the moment, in the moment that is the now that is the blood coursing through your veins all red and shimmery like glass, in this funny little moment all you can do is stand there, eyes squeezed shut, and inhale.

i convinced my mom to send me my favorite bomber jacket. the postage cost seventeen dollars and fifty cents in singapore dollars but true to form it only took thirteen days to get from one side of the globe to the other. it is not so appalling after all that we are connected by distances. geographically speaking, i am always beside you.

there is at least one working water cooler on this campus. in the basement of this whoozy, boozy freshman dorm, beside the laundry room with its clear glass door and clean, powdery lavender-lemon-jasmine smell, you will find a metal fixture with a thick rectangular button hidden under the lip of the bowl. if you jam your thumb into it, water will erupt from the fountain-head like god pouring life into the mouths of tiny clay-children or goldfish, depending on which version of history you're a fan of, depending on which natgeo subscription you have. and the water will be very sweet, very cold, nourishing the skin on your bones and furnishing the ground beneath your feet. but don't drink from it. we're in a pandemic, after all.

instead go back up, past the lounge with the flatscreen tv and the ratty green sofas, past the elevator that sounds like a soap opera crossed with a minecraft let's play, past the cubbyhole of a kitchen with the moldy sponges and the half-empty bottle of dish soap that smells like van gogh's impression of misery until you get to the room that, for the last three brilliant, battered months, has been yours. and let yourself in.

05.21.21

[bookerlausanne]

Now That I’m Free

A Destiel Secret Santa gift for @i-like-to-think-i-am-cool via this year’s @destielsecretsanta2020 ;)

I hope you have a wonderful holiday and that you can enjoy this fluffy, ridiculous mess I typed after 5 glasses of wine.

Summary: Dean finally has the words if he can only give them voice.

Warnings: I just had a breakup this week #2020, so this is the schmoopyiest, melodramatic, harlequinesque, most ridiculous thing I’ve ever written. I’m sorry it’s so short.  Post season 15. In no way canon compliant.

 “Now that I’m free to be

Myself, who am I?”

Mary Oliver, Blue Iris

 It was Christmas Eve and Dean Winchester was alone.

He sat in front of a beautiful tree filled with generic ornaments – nothing saved from his and Sammy’s childhood, nothing much to speak of on the road with their- with John. He wore his Star Wars ugly Christmas Sweater and sat staring at the lights with shitty cooking Bourbon in a chipped coffee mug sitting untouched and sweating next to him.

Sammy and Eileen are headed his way tomorrow, plans adjusted to accommodate Eileen’s eight-month pregnant body having trouble sleeping in anything other than her own bed. Dean would have been more than happy to drive to them, but the change of plans came too late to reach their house in time and the concern on Sam’s face begrudgingly prevented him from any teasing or complaints. Jack will be (Dean’s willing to bet) in pj’s and drinking hot cocoa in this very spot just waiting at 4:30 in the freaking morning for the rest of their family to arrive.

And Cas-

Well, Cas might show up, might not. Not like Dean’s his keeper or his bosom sister or his confidant or possibly even his friend, certainly not his lover-

Dean eyed the mug full of Bourbon and breathed out slowly. His jaw clenched and unbidden the last two years flashed before his eyes: Cas getting pulled into the Empty, defeating Chuck, Jack becoming the new Big Man Above, and Cas – fuck – Cas alive and standing in the middle of the Bunker with nothing more than a “Hello, Dean.” a perfunctory hug and an adios back to Heaven. Yet, again.

Dean knows he’s not being fair. Cas still half lives with him in the bunker. Well, not lives lives. Ok, so he does technically live here but in his own room and with barely any contact with Dean. Not really, not anymore. And Dean knows it’s been a rough time coming off something like what happened, what he endured – yet again – what he said. Confessed.

Dean shifts in his chair, closes his eyes, and tilts his head against the wall behind him.

“Fuck.”

It’s his fault and he knows it. He has always known. It’s always him. The air between him and Cas is nothing less than intense. Fraught. Cut it with a stone thick. Because for all that Cas found the courage to say everything he did that night, Dean has felt thick tongued and uncomfortable ever since. Which, of course, Cas has noticed and tried to give him space for. Which, of course, has hurt Cas’s feelings and created a seemingly vast distance of space between them. Which, of course, as previously mentioned, is all Dean’s fault.

But be it Kismet or Karma or just Jack, tonight that is going to change. It has too.

Because Dean isn’t getting any younger. It’s not like he’s unaware but it’s something he thinks about much more frequently than he used too – especially while working on fixing up the bunker to accommodate the next round of Hunters. A Bunch of Badass Bitches as Claire likes to say. Dean smiles at the memory of the exasperated look on Cas’s face hearing her say that.

“Suck it up, Buttercup.” He mumbles to himself before taking a moment to just breathe. He gets up and clears his small amount of dinner dishes and the mug to the kitchen before coming back to the tree. He stands there half transfixed, grits his teeth for a moment and begins.

“I pray to the angel Castiel – uh, hey Cas, look, I don’t know if you’re busy but I just need you to listen for a minute and uh yeah,” Dean clears his throat and takes a moment. “Back when, when you said what you said – look, I- I know things are strained right now and I take the blame for that, ok? You deserved a response then and after and now and I –“

The unmistakable sound of Cas appearing behind him makes him pause. And he knows, god knows Dean can sense Cas around him like they’re tethered heart to heart in any plane of existence. There is a brief silence filled with so much expectation it’s almost unbearable and Dean knows – as sure as he’s ever known anything – that this is the most important moment of his entire life. He feels sick. He feels a bead of terrified, anxious sweat roll down the side of his face. He continues.

“I- I don’t have to tell you some sob story about an unloving parent who heaped a bunch of homophobic shit onto his too-pretty son. At this point it’s hardly a secret that my dad was an ass. But that kind of fear that you develop…” Dean stops and shakes head. “Look, what matters is that I couldn’t respond to you that night. I couldn’t say anything. I didn’t know and – yeah maybe that makes me the biggest asshole in the world to be so blind but I – I didn’t know. And I didn’t know what to say. And, when you came back, I still didn’t know what to say. I was frozen.”

Dean feels the tension behind him wind tight and he knows – god he knows he’s fucking this up but he has to try. He opens his eyes to the lights of the tree in front of him and fights to hold it together.

“I was frozen in the eye of a storm – because, Cas, I’m not the hero in this story. I’m not the good guy – no matter how hard I try. I-I’m not worthy. I’m not – fuck – I’m selfish.” Dean’s terrified but he must turn around. He must face this. He turns with tears in his eyes and sees Cas standing there just as wide eyed and teary as he imagined he would be. He’s hanging onto Dean’s every word because it doesn’t matter if he knows every piece of Dean’s heart, he still needs to hear it. Dean walks over to Cas until their positions are a perfect match for that night. Cas sees the struggle and determination on Dean’s face – still beautiful – and begins to hope.

“Cas, I love you.”

There is one moment where both men feel as though caught in the eye of a storm. The shock of Dean’s confession stills both until suddenly –

“I love you, too. I should have said it then, that night. I should have said it then. I should have torn down the walls of the deepest pit of Hell, torn down the foundations of Heaven myself to find you and tell you that I love you, Cas. Because I do – fuck – Cas.” Dean’s hands are cupping the sides of Cas���s face, thumbs trailing through tears of joy and shock and awe streaming from his too-blue eyes. The sight of his tears cuts into the marrow of his bones and Dean realizes that he has never, will never love anyone like he loves Cas.

And then Dean kisses him. Soft and sweet and so full of love he feels like he could die with it because  despite every negative, horrible, shameful thought that tries to break loose and tear up his mind Dean finally understands. He finally has processed and internalized and begun to believe. As Cas laughs and pulls him close murmuring his own words of love before making Dean’s breath catch at the passion of his kiss – how he slides a hand in Dean’s hair and tilts him as he likes, tasting the sweetness of his hot, wet mouth. And when Cas breaks their kiss to sweep Dean in his arms – making them both laugh at how ridiculous they must look - just to spin him around and shout with joy… that belief within Dean grows even stronger.

He is worthy. Worthy of love.

And he’s finally ready to fall.

[re-diesirae]

15. Chris

The sense of relief he felt when Leon confirmed Claire's well-being was something that Chris could not explain with words. His baby sister was safe and sound, and in Chris's eyes, that was all that mattered. Sadly, the good news got overshadowed by the report of a potential new type of B.O.W.

"Long story short, there's a high chance of a new virus development in this place. The new B.O.W.s are tough and very violent, but their movement seems restricted to nighttime. I'll explain in more detail when you get here. Claire believes there might be important information in this facility. However, that information seems to be in the underground research center, which, in my experience, must be filled with more B.O.W.s. I don't think Claire and I can handle them on our own."

"Of course, you don't! Don't you even dare to go down there until we arrive, understood? If those things are as bad as you say, make sure to stay in a safe place."

"I know, don't worry. "

"We'll talk soon, then. I gotta go."

"All right. Do you want me to hug Claire for you?"

"Don't you dare, Kennedy. Keep those charms off from my sister..."

"I'll try..."

"You..."He couldn't finish since Leon had cut off the call.

Lie a hand on her, Kennedy, and I'll make you suffer.

Chris put away the radio with annoyance and turned to the rest of his team. He saw Jill's relieved expression as she exchanged some words with the soldiers before getting to the cockpit.

"Told you that girl was a tough cookie," Barry said, patting his back, "So it seems our mission turned from rescue to something else."

" If there's a B.O.W involved, then we need to do it. I expected Neo-Umbrella to die with the events in China, but it seems we were wrong. Those bastards..."

"Tch, those leeches are hard to kill. You know that."

A soft beeping sound made Chris pull out his PDA, and he let out a soft chuckle.

"What's so funny?"

"Seems like Claire and Leon decided to send us a little present," he replied, showing him the blueprints and information he had just received.

"Well, now. Look at that," Barry laughed, "Very kind of them."

"Judging by the looks, we've got a bunch of nasties awaiting us."

"Heh, when has it been different? We only need to blow them off as we always do."

"Now that's a positive way to see it," Jill smiled, walking back to them, "I just contacted HQ, and we got the green light to take on that laboratory. Our new objective is recovering the bioweapon data."

"Count on Jill to be efficient, "Barry commented, shaking his head.

"Someone has to keep things in order. There's something I am concerned about, though, those new B.O.W.s that Leon mentioned. They only come out at night?"

"Well, that's what they said, but who knows. It might not be the case. That's another thing we will need to look into to be sure. How much more before we get there?"

"Doug says that we need another three hours."

"Means we'll get there just for breakfast…" Barry said, checking his watch. "Hope those kids are getting a good night of rest 'cause this is gonna be one hell of a mission."

"Jill, did you find any clues of why would they target Claire?"

"Sadly, no. TerraSave was helpful, though. I guess they want Claire back as much as we do."

"Hell, if they do. From what Moira tells me, Claire is pretty much TerraSave's goddess by now. They must be panicking now that she's not around. Hey, that could be a reason to kidnap her."

"Yeah, but why would the terrorist group want to sabotage TerraSave?" Jil replied, crossing her arms, "They are only rescuers, so...it wouldn't make sense."

"Unless…" Chris whispered, "Claire told me some time ago that TerraSave had been helping B.S.A.A with the viral studies. That was primarily the reason for which she decided to take on virology."

"Do you think TerraSave could have found something important about the viruses?" Jill asked, "I mean, they didn't mention anything about the institution researching their own accord."

"It was a secret because they wanted to avoid this type of situation. I only knew about it because Claire told me the reason she wanted to study virology, but even then, she didn't tell me much. It was a classified matter, and I respected that. God knows how many things I've kept from her."

"Someone in B.S.A.A should know about it." Barry suggested.

"Right, we can ask that later, when Claire is back with us. Damn, I wished this plane would fly faster."

"Patience is a virtue, Chris."

"Try being patient when your little sister is sleeping somewhere surrounded by those fucking mutants."

"But at least she's not alone this time. She's got someone watching her back, and you can be sure Leon is not someone who would betray her," Barry reasoned.

"Yeah, right. A playboy with charms..."

"Hah, he may be a pretty boy, but he's got his guts. "

Chris did not reply. He knew Leon cared about Claire, but he couldn't help but doubt the man's loyalty sometimes. The agent had a soft spot for a certain Asian spy, and what was stopping him from going after her and leaving Claire behind? And because he knew his sister, was that Claire wouldn't try to stop him at all. She'd probably encourage him to go after her, which was even worse.

"Changing to a lighter topic… It's nice to see Claire's red locks are back in place." Barry said casually, and Chris knew that the man was trying to ease the mood " Can't say I wasn't surprised when she showed up to save my ass two years ago with her hair chopped off. She didn't look bad, though."

"I heard about that…" Jill said with a smile, "Those rookies from B.S.A.A were all over it, but I didn't get the chance to see her..."

"Badass, I tell you, but I like Claire with her ponytail. She's more our Claire, right Chris?" the older man snorted, elbowing the younger one.

"She won't stop being my Claire if she cuts her hair, Barry."

"Nah, I know that, but you must admit you like her with that ponytail. More like the little Claire you love, right?"

Chris wouldn't admit it out loud, but Barry was right. There was some symbolism in his sister's hairstyle. As long as she kept her casual ponytail, it felt as if things had never changed, and his sister was still that sweet little woman always following around and calling him to make sure he'd had a decent dinner. When Claire cut off her hair, Chris knew something had changed. She was a Redfield, and like him, Claire had her ways to cope with pain.

In his case, it had been the drink, not that he was that proud of it, and he had needed a hard shake off to snap out of it. In Claire's case, she had cut off her hair as a symbol of her abandoning her old self. Not many would have noticed, Claire was good at keeping things from others, but he was her brother, for god sake, he could see through her like an open book, and he had seen what the experience from two years ago had done to her.

She still smiled. She was sweet and caring like she always was, but she had lost the confident and trusting glow in her eyes.

What has all this crap done to us?

Chris would have done anything in the world to spare his sister from the horrible calamities that bioterrorism brought to the world.

"I used to have short hair too…" Jill commented.

"Yeah, I remember those times. Wow, it feels like centuries ago, when S.T.A.R.S was alive and kicking…" Barry sighed, "and when all this crap began."

"No use thinking about that now." Chris said absently, "Let's focus on our current situation, shall we?"

"As you say, captain." Barry laughed.

Chris checked his weapons and gear. There was still a long way ahead, and he needed to keep himself preoccupied.

NOTE: if you guys want to come and chat about the fic, or just about CLEON in general. Feel free to drop by the discord and say hi! JOIN SERVER

[patchessolostan]

vertigo

a snippet of a dnf fic i’m kinda working on. 1.8k, canon-ish

Isn’t it strange, how sometimes, certain smells can inspire old feelings, can awaken memories that seemed to be forgotten? The delicate pathways in our brains weaved together in unintended ways, so tight and durable, and yet completely slipping past our radar.

For example, love, to George, smells like oranges.

It’s one of his first ever memories: a Christmas morning two decades ago, the faint tickle of his wool sweater, the subtle warmth of the sun spilling down his back. And his mother’s hands, skin soft and unmarred, neat, rounded nails digging into the orange, carefully peeling it and then splitting its tender flesh. It’s hazy at best, but the smile on her face, his father’s laughter, the sweet juice spilling past his lips—they’re as clear as day still.

He thinks there’s no amount of time that could fade the memory of that warmth from his chest.

 So, perhaps George should’ve known his fate since the day Dream told him his shampoo is orange scented.

But then again, who's to say he would've wanted to change a single thing?

 “I’ll wear the brightest blue clothes I have,” Dream promises, and George can hear the grin in his voice. He always can, whenever the topic of George’s approaching visit comes up. “So much blue, you’ll want to vomit when you see me.”

“That seems counter-productive,” George answers, giggling when Dream sighs dramatically.

“Fine,” he relents when George quiets down. “It’ll be a mild headache. I’m sure you can deal with that.”

I think I could deal with anything, as long as I get to meet you, George thinks, and despite his fluttering heart and shaking hands, he doesn’t say it.

“I hate you both. This is unfair,” Sapnap speaks up after staying silent for five solid minutes while they talked about the upcoming trip. George practically jumps and starts giggling again. “It is so unfair, you both suck, and I’ll fucking block you. Try me.”

“Oh no,” Dream wheezes out, and the sound of both his and George’s laughter easily conceals Sapnap’s muttered insults and protests.

“C’mon,” George says eventually. “At least you know how he looks like. I’m crossing the ocean to meet a fucking stranger.”

“...fair enough,” Sapnap agrees, and Dream just wheezes harder.

George bites his lip before letting his grin fully unfurl as he stares down at his fidgeting fingers.

I’m meeting him.

He wants to scream. Instead George just gently smacks his forehead on his desk.

 Ever since the plans get made, the ticket bought (Dream insists on paying, despite George’s half-assed protests), time seems to move both incredibly fast and insanely slow.

Still, soon enough there’s only a week left to his flight. And yet... George feels like every waking hour takes three more to pass. And it’s not like he can waste the hours away by sleeping, like before.

Now every time he lays down and closes his eyes, all George can think of are warm arms around him. All he can see in his mind is that still blurry face and a mess of dark blonde hair. That wheezy laugh in his ear, the Hello, George that Dream will inevitably whisper, so close that his breath will brush past his skin and set George alight from inside out.

It's already driving George crazy, and he's still almost 7 thousand kilometres away.

 He packs his bag, and then pulls it apart while looking for a charger, and packs again, and again, and again, in a seemingly never-ending cycle of anxious fidgeting.

He starts planning three different videos at once and scrapes two of them once he's almost done.

He turns Twitter notifications off, and tries to keep his phone face down on the desk, but as the date creeps closer, it's getting harder and harder. Somehow, he seems to spend even more time talking to Dream, even if before it seemed almost impossible.

Despite his big words, Sapnap isn't actually upset. In fact, he's possibly just as excited as George, which he finds hilarious and annoying at once. And though Dream seems to agree with George, he doesn't try to calm neither of them down, instead just feeding the flames.

Surprisingly, the trio manage to keep the meetup plans from fans; that’s not to say that they don’t sense a new kind of tension between them. Every worried, questioning donation and tweet is hard to ignore, with the way George’s tongue itches with impatience.

For now, it feels too fragile, too private to share, at least until he plants his feet on the Florida soil, until he hears Dream laugh in real life and watches the way his face lights up in real time.

 And then, as if no time at all has passed, it's here.

 Tomorrow, Dream texts in lieu of goodnight. George flops over in his bed a few times, legs uncomfortably tangled in the sheets, bottom lip between his teeth.

Tomorrow, he answers, and it feels like a promise.

George curls his fingers around his phone, pushing it under the pillow, and then buries his face under it too, cheeks hot from the force of his smile.

That night is full of fitful, anxious sleep, and when George wakes, it’s with a start. He jumps up and stumbles out of bed in panic.

It's so quiet in the apartment—too quiet, too still, like the world itself has paused. His heart is racing as he scrambles through the sheets for his phone.

Did he oversleep? Did he miss the alarm? Did he even set an alarm? The memories of last night are hazy, and George thinks his heart will push out into his throat when his fingers finally brush against glass.

All breath rushes out of him when the screen turns on, a clear 6:41 AM on his lockscreen.

He's fine. The anxiety pulls back, leaving George's muscles weak and sleep-tired, so he slumps on the ruffled sheets.

Thought I overslept, almost had a heart attack, he sends to Dream, fully expecting him to laugh at his expense when he finally wakes up.

To George's surprise, the message gets read immediately.

I would’ve called you :), comes through, and before George can answer, Dream writes again.

I’ll have to call a cab for us. Haven’t slept since yesterday.

George huffs out an amused breath.

Would be a shame to kick the bucket right after meeting you, he replies and closes his eyes, placing the phone on his chest.

Now that the panic from before has subsided, another takes its place, slowly rising up and overtaking his pliant body like a tide.

There it is, the final dance, the last conversation where George can’t imagine the face behind the words; it’s just as frightening as it is thrilling. It’s bittersweet on his tongue, a piece of rotten fruit in his mouth.

He can’t help but wonder—what if it changes everything? What if it’s nothing like he expects? What if Dream realizes he can’t stand George when he can’t just leave the call?

George’s not a kid, he’s not all that naïve, and he’s well aware that people who work perfectly when there’s an ocean between them, can clash horribly once they share personal space. Life isn’t a fairy tale where everything works out perfectly, with a happy ending for everyone tied up in a neat bow.

His phone vibrates, scattering the restless thoughts, and George opens his eyes, pausing for a moment before finally lifting it.

At least I’d die a happy man.

He stares at his phone for a while, heart fluttering so hard, George barely manages to breathe in.

Perhaps he’s stupid enough to believe in good endings anyway.

 //

 Anxiety, however, smells like sweat and gasoline.

It didn’t always, but now George doesn’t think he could ever be in an airplane and not remember this day. Sitting in a packed airplane, left leg jumping up and down, fingers tightly gripping his elbows, as George stares through the window and waits for the plane to take off. Begging, pleading his mind to change gears, think of anything else but the upcoming moment.

A child whines behind him, some lady argues with the flight attendant, the doors close, the engine starts, and then UK is just a smear of colours underneath him.

He leans back and lets time and space run its course.

 The Orlando airport is a mess of sounds and lights that grate on George’s groggy mind as he slowly makes his way to the baggage claim. His phone is quiet, and he can’t help but keep glancing at it, knowing full well there’s no answer to his short I’m here.

Fear firmly grips his throat in a fist, a cruel voice whispering dreadful forecast, no matter how hard George tries to not listen.

He’ll take one look at you, and he’ll see, it promises as George waits for his suitcase to show up. He’ll figure it out, now that there’s no screen to hide behind. And he’ll be disgusted. He’ll ask you to leave.

Dream wouldn’t, George wants to argue; but then again. Just how well does he know Dream?

This is the first time he’ll see him, and they’ve known each other for years now. There could be a stranger behind the screen, one not as kind and wonderful as the Dream he’s used to. One that would—

“George?”

The all-too-familiar voice stops George in his tracks, and his muscles lock up, brain painfully blank as he worries his bottom lip.

Eventually, perhaps after way too long, George turns around.

And there he is.

 He’s wearing a navy t-shirt and blue jeans, just as promised, and his smile is so wide it takes up half of his face, and George can’t tear his gaze away from it. He knows he should be exploring the face that’s brand new to him, committing all the features to memory so even weeks later, they’d be perfect and fresh.

And yet, it’s those peach-pink lips he can’t stop staring at, like some stereotypical fool.

“Dream?” he whispers, though his feet don’t dare to move.

“I knew I should’ve worn something brighter,” Dream says. His voice is light, and happy, and he’s coming closer, and George can’t quite breathe in, his chest seized in an iron grip.

He wants to answer with a quip, a joke, the way he could when it was just the two of them in a Discord call, but he realizes any words would be followed by tears; and that’s just not the way to make a first impression.

So, George stays quiet and lets his suitcase drop when Dream wraps his arms around him.

Dream is so warm. The cotton of his shirt is soft underneath George’s palms. He smells like summer, like citrus fruit and the ocean, and George almost instinctively buries his nose in his shoulder.

Dream’s breath stutters near George’s ear.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he whispers, lips brushing over George’s skin and sending waves of heat and cold down to his toes.

“Me too,” he answers, and pulls his best friend even closer, feeling complete and safe for the first time in a long, long while. “Me too.”

[laukora1030]

Captain America: The First Avenger pt. 2

First off, spoilers if you’ve never seen the movies and you want to. And, english IS NOT my first language, so excuse me if I make mistakes.

Y’all, this specific scene reminds me of that scene where Elastigirl is trapped in all those doors and she kicks the guys’ asses. Like, tell me you saw Steve hitting this guy’s head with the door and your mind didn’t immediately take you to Elastigirl. Or was it only me? Just me? Ok, let’s keep on going.

Nvm, I found out why it reminds me so much of that scene. They’re dressed the same way!

Can we acknowledge how awkward Steve’s interaction with the imprisoned soldiers is? Who told him it was a good idea to say “I’m Captain America” to these people? Although fair, he did get them out rather quickly and he is technically Captain America, but I don’t know, it’s weird. Steeb, you liar, you haven’t knocked Hitler out at all.

I love Steve’s loyalty to Bucky. It gets annoying in the next movies, but in this movie it just shows me how alone Steve was and how important Bucky was to him, because when you have very little people who care for you, your instincts will always be to protect them. 

I love the soldiers just wrecking havoc outside. It’s a fun scene seeing them fight back and use HYDRA’s weapons. How much property do you think they destroyed? Because I keep on wondering, did this act of rebellion from Steeb help turn the tide just a little bit?

There is a similarity between Red Skull and future Steve, and that is that, when they believe there is something more important than anything else, they are willing to sacrifice everyone and everything else for that. In this case, Schmidt was ready to destroy the entire base when he realized he was not going to win, just to save the studies, and future Steve was ready to endanger thousands of people to end HYDRA (CATWS), and to save Bucky (CACW). 

I feel sad for Bucky. He was tortured back in the 40s, then for 70 years, and then he died and came back to life, how does one survive that? He is one strong man, but I just, his entire life saddens me.

I wonder what Bucky thought after he heard Red Skull call Steve Captain America. I would find it hilarious, even in that situation, but that’s just my weird ass talking. Why did Schmidt think he was Erskine’s greatest success when he looks red and Steve looks like this:

America, explain.

Another note to self: Schmidt is a bitch, but I love his car and I would go back in time to the 40s to steal it. 

Bucky is so brave, though. He was tortured, experimented on, completely weak, and still, he put on a brave face and crossed that thing (I have no idea what they’re called) at a steady face, knowing that it could have fallen way before it did. Thanks to the Russo’s I had forgotten how much I loved Bucky Barnes. He is a great character. 

Let’s talk about how pure of heart, dumb of ass Steve is. He had no idea he was gonna survive his little stunt jump, yet he did it with little hesitation because “I have to get my friend out of here”. Pure of heart, dumb of ass. 

I can’t begin to imagine Peggy’s pain when she heard Phillips say that Steve was dead. Especially because if he was dead it would most definitely mean she would have no protection against whatever punishment Phillips saw fit for her actions. And yet she just won’t back down, because she knew she did the right thing. 

The scene where Steve gets back with the 107th is such a great scene, because it shows exactly what Steve is made of. He has a strong mindset, he will fight for what he believes in, and he would do anything for others. It’s a powerful scene.

I wonder if Steve unconsciously wanted the praise he got at that moment. He was the small guy his entire life, the one who was beat and punched on a daily basis, and for once in his life he was being praised for something he thought he deserved. I think that deep down this is exactly what he wanted: recognition.

I wonder if Bucky’s face when Steve stopped looking at him was because he thought he lost his friend, because he was jealous, or because he thought he wasn’t needed anymore. Bucky and Steve grew up together, and when you see a friend you’ve always helped become something better when you’re not with them, I think that can seriously mess you up, especially if you feel like they don’t need you anymore, because, after all, they thrived after you left. I don’t believe he was that jealous, though. Yeah, he used to be the strong guy girls would look at, and now he wasn’t, but I’m inclined to believe it’s my third option. He was so used to going around saving Steve from his death wish (that’s what I call it, because I’m still surprised he survived all those years getting punched), that now he sees Steve save him and save everyone else, and he knows that, were Steve asked to go alone to a fight, he would not be able to do anything. 

Steeb, you lil’ bitch, I know you don’t like cameras and stages, but that’s a medal of valour, I think it’s very important. 

Can we talk about how hot Steve Rogers looks with his army suit? Because he does. Also, as I’ve said before, he ain’t dumb, so, if everything got enhaced with the serum, he must definitely had his intelligence amplified, and I like to believe that he has photographic memory, that’s why he could remember the map he saw when he saved Bucky. 

I’m sorry, but what the fuck Steve? Who gave you permission to look like this?

(You’re welcome)

I like his team. Steve was always a good leader (I’m not even gonna touch CACW), he knew who to trust and who to take with him. Besides, like I said before, he is a great strategist. I think that’s what makes him such a great leader. 

I guess I get why y’all ship Stucky. I don’t ship them, I love their friendship (once again, I’m not even gonna touch CACW with a ten miles pole), and I think they’re sweet, so  I guess I can understand the ship.

Peggy Carter in a red dress is all I never knew I needed. She looks like a queen that will definitely punch you in the face if you deserve it. 

I love the bar scene. The music is lovely, Bucky’s awkwardness is hilarious, Steeb and Peggy flirting is sweet as heck, and Bucky’s “I’m invisible. I’m turning into you, it’s like a horrible dream” it’s the perfect dialogue. 

Okay, how did Howard get all of that glass on his face and didn’t get more than one single cut? Is he stronger than he looks or is it just movie magic? I guess we’ll never know. 

Awkward Steeb is lovely as heck. But I don’t like the blonde. I guess it’s because I am not a fan of stolen kisses, I feel they would make someone uncomfortable. 

Note to self: finally, a movie in sepia tones that isn’t situated in Mexico!

Coming back to the movie: the whole scene with the blonde woman is so freaking awkward. It was totally unnecessary. Like yeah, I get it was to show a jealous Peggy, but ugh, I hate it. Steeb looks son out of his element, it gives me that je ne sais quoi.

Note to self, again: if I ever want to date a woman, make sure not to talk to them the way Steeb did when talking about Peggy and Stark. Steeb, you idiot. 

Gotta go back on track. 

Stark said

The scene where Peggy shoots Steve’s shield used to make me laugh so hard when I was younger. Now it makes me irrationally angry. Peggy more so than anyone should know that bullets ricochet, she was lucky she that the bullets didn’t hit someone else after hitting the shield and just fell to the floor. 

Three things about the different scenes after this last one, the one where Steve and the Howling Commandos raid all HYDRA and Nazi bases they can: Steve looks so cool on his suit, I love Red Skull’s car, and the Howling Commandos are amazing. 

This is still sweet:

Bucky Barnes with a rifle could kill me any day, thank you. Also, I love this scene, it’s such an emblematic CA scene:

Oh oh, the train scene’s coming up next. What do I do now? Do I watch it, do I cry, do I suffer in silence (evidently no)? I was not prepared for this. I regret all my decisions up till this moment.

I’m never gonna get tired of saying that Steve is an amazing strategist. Just so y’all know, if it was me over the train, I would’ve already fallen to my inevitable death. Is it already clear enough that I love James Barnes more than I probably should? No? Then excuse me while I scream into the void aout how much I love this man. Also, him with short hair? 100/10 would recommend again. 

I love how battered (I think I used the right word) Steve’s shield is. It’s a representation of his battles and it’s, I don’t know, it’s calling me. I guess I love when something shows everything they’ve gone through.

Ahhhhhh, THAT part is coming and I’m not ready!!!!! James Barnes, if you read this, I love you. It’s a painful scene to watch, if I’m being honest. Steve loves this man, in my opinion, as a brother, and seeing him at death’s door, you can see the pain on their expressions, one knows they’re gonna die, and the other one knows they’re gonna lose their brother. I don’t think I’d be the same person if that happened to me. And Steve’s cries, bitch, my heart.

That killed me, sorry. 

I still admire Zola’s intelligence, and his sneakiness with the whole SHIELDRA thing. Like, I hate that bitch and I hope he died a very painful death, but he is a great character and I enjoy his scenes. 

Who eats steak with milk? I just wanna know, find me behind the Denny’s. 

I like the whole Zola and phillips scene, it makes sense, because of course he’d want to live. But tell me how you look at someone in the eyes and expect them to believe some bullshit about gods and infinite power? At least Phillip took the whole “his goal is everything” comment, because I sure as hell wouldn’t’ve. 

Red Skull’s little speech about the Valkyrie is okay, I guess, but he mentions something that reminded me strongly of CATWS. He said “If they shoot down one plane, hundreds more will rain fire upon them.” I’m just thinking about the Helicarriers that were supposed to just, ya know, kill everyone that posed a threat to HYDRA. I think it’s a good parallel. 

Note to self, again: I’m not gonna get tired of asking who was the idiot who decided to name this division HYDRA, made their slogan “if they cut off one head, two more shall take its place” then had their logo be an octopus without two extremities. Who do I have to fight?

I love the scene where everyone is screaming Hail HYDRA, because it shows you that, like Steve, Schmidt has presence, and a powerful voice, and he knows how to make people share his ideals. I enjoy it very much.

I feel sorry for Steve. I, listening to him talk to Peggy when he clearly has been crying, telling her that he cannot get drunk, which means that he’s tried it already, it’s a painful scene to watch. Chris Evans is such an amazing actor. He can emulate feelings so easily. Seeing him cry and suffer, God, it pains my heart. I honestly didn’t remember this scene, and to watch it without warning, well, it made me sadder than Bucky’s actual death.

“I’m not gonna stop until ol of HYDRA is dead or captured.” Brings a new light to CATWS for me, what about you?

I will leave it here, mostly because this shit is getting longer than I expected it to be. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I did. See you tomorrow.

[prettyinlimegreenboots]

Hey! Thank you so much for writing that last thing for me! Still haven't read it lol, but I got so excited when I saw it was canon era! Could you do "Merry Christmas, motherfuckers" or maybe "well, there are worse ways my Christmas could have ended?" Thank you so much, and have the best day ever!

There are cuss words in this. Hospital stay, IV, stitches, staples and surgery are also warnings in this!

“You doing okay, Racer?” Spot asked, running a hand through his hair, before pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Well, there are worse ways my Christmas could have ended?" Race looked up at him, a wide grin on his face, despite the pain he was in.

Christmas this year wasn’t what they had anticipated but when did things go according to plan. Race had been in excruciating pain for most of Christmas Eve into the very early hours of Christmas morning. Spot had dropped their twins off at Jack and Kat’s before bringing Race into the ER, only to discover his appendix was inflamed and close to ruptering. The only time things had gone as expected was their wedding day, three years ago. Even their twins’ birth didn’t go according to plan - getting a call just as they were supposed to jump on a plane for a quick get away before becoming dads.

Spot smirked. “You’re not wrong; at least you’re not dead, yet. You’re going to have a simple surgery and you’ll be back on your feet in no time.”

“Stupid piece of skin that doesn’t have any use for anymore.” Race glared at his appendix, or where he thought it was located. “Stupid thing that got infected on our twins first Christmas and is close to busting.”

Spot shook his head. “It’s alright. Amelia and Beau won’t know the difference if we’re there or not. They’re safe with Jack, Kat, Ellie, and Aaron and probably have much more fun than we are.”

“It’s the semantics, Spottie. I’m a horrible parent because I’m not watching them play with their new toys and discover all the joys of the day.” Race threw his head back against the pillow, sighing loudly.

Getting out of his chair, he climbed into bed with Race, pulling him so his head landed on his chest. “Don’t beat yourself up, Race. There will be plenty of time for that as they get older. They’re 9 months old . . . they would’ve been playing with the boxes anyways. I’m sure they’re sound asleep right now, not a care in the world.”

Just as he said that, his cell phone dinged with an incoming text message. Pulling open his phone, he smiled at the photo Kat had sent over. “Hey, look at this.”

Kat had sent them a photo of the twins laying on the floor sound asleep, cuddling the stuffed animals Jack and Kat had gotten for them. “See, they’re fine and they don’t care that we’re not there.”

Nodding, Race ran his finger over the phone screen, smiling slightly. “Still it’s hard.”

“I know it is but like I said, at least you’re not dead.” Spot pressed a kiss to his head. “You’re going to kick this surgery’s ass and be back on your feet in a few days. Just think, you can order me around and wait on you hand and foot.”

Race flashed him a smile. “Something to look forward to.”

Spot smiled at that as a knock sounded at the door. A nurse poked her head in with a kind smile. “Mr. Higgin-Conlon?”

“Tony, please.” He nodded as she pushed open the door.

She smiled at the pair of them as Spot slid off the bed and stood beside it, gripping Race’s hand. “Tony, then. My name is Lina and I’m going to start preparing you for surgery.”

Spot turned her out as she started asking him questions about his health and medications. Every now and then he would feel Race squeeze his hand, and he would squeeze it back. There had been plenty of trips to the hospital in the seven years they had been together but this would be the first surgery for either of them. Logically, Spot knew Race would be okay but there was a tiny piece of him that was scared shitless that something would happen and he would be alone, living a life without Race.

The nurse finished quizzing Race and told them she would be back in a few minutes to take him down to surgery. Once the door was shut, Spot turned to Race, putting his forehead to his. “I need you to listen to me for the next few minutes okay?”

“O-okay.” Race’s voice was hesitant as he had never heard that forced voice that Spot currently had before.

“I love you, I am over the moon, batshit crazy about you. You need to pull through this because if you die, I will not be able to carry on. You’re my saving grace, my wide eyed soul and you give me so much strength. I cannot live in this world without you so Anthony Racetrack Higgins-Conlon, you kick the appendix’s ass and come back to me, you hear?” Spot’s chest heaved as he spat those words out.

Race reached up, hand behind his neck, putting his lips on Spot’s. A searing kiss was shared between the two of them before Race pulled back. “I love you too, pooks and I’m going to beat this. I’ve got too much life left to live and I’ve got at least two kids to watch grow up. You can’t get rid of me that quickly, Sean. I’ll see you in a few hours, handsome, and I expect you to give me a searing kiss, like the one I just gave you.”

Chuckling, Spot pulled him back in for another kiss, this time much more gentle. “I love you, snookums and I’ll be here as soon as they tell me I can come back.”

“Love you too.”

Just as the words left Race’s mouth, the door opened and the nurse came back in. “I apologize but it’s time for us to take Tony down. You can come down with us until we hit the last door.”

As they maneuvered the gurney out of the room, Spot kept pace with them, holding onto Race’s hand, squeezing it as they walked down the hallway. “I’m sorry but this is as far as you can go. We’ll give you a few seconds.”

They walked over to the side, giving them a bit of privacy. Spot leaned over to Race, leaning over to kiss him. “I love you and I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Love you too Spottie. Don’t fret too much.” Race kissed him once more, squeezing his hand before they pushed him beyond the doors.

The doors closed behind him with a loud slam as another nurse came up and smiled weakly at him. “You can wait in the surgical waiting room if you would like. Someone will come talk to you when Tony’s out of surgery.”

He flashed her a smile before following her down the hallway to the waiting room. She motioned inside as he pushed open the door. His eyes scanned the waiting room, another couple waiting along with an older lady. He took a spot in the corner, away from the door, pulling out his cell phone. He opened the text message with Kat, letting her know that they just took Race back.

Within seconds, his phone was ringing. “Hi Kat.”

“Hi Spot. How are you?” He could hear the tiredness in her voice.

He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I’m alright. They just took him back.”

“Do you want me to come down? I could leave Jack here with the kids and come sit with you.” She offered, as he heard something in the background of her phone.

“No, no you stay with the kids. Don’t leave Jack all alone - he might kill you if you did that to him.” He chuckled. “They said the surgery would be about an hour and half so I won’t be here long. I’m going to go down to the cafe and grab something since I’m not sure how long it’ll be before Race can have any food.”

“The kids are alright. Please don’t worry about them.” Kat said. “Let me know if you need anything and I can bring it up to you.”

He smiled. “Thanks Kat. Keeping the kids is more than enough. I’ll let you know when he’s out of surgery.”

“You’re welcome. Don’t stress . . . he’ll be alright.” She said as they hung up.

He tapped his toes as his eyes swept the room. The door opened as a doctor came to talk to the couple, guiding them from the room, leaving Spot and the older lady alone in the room.

Opening his phone, he went to his photos, starting at the beginning. The album had over 1,000 photos in it, everything from photos of them on dates to their wedding to newborn photos of the twins, and every moment in between. He smiled, as he flipped through every one of them, letting himself get lost in the memories.

He stopped on a selfie of the two of them and laughed, thinking back.

“Spot, come on Spot!” Race whined, giving him a look.

Returning his look, Spot looked at his boyfriend. “Why does Kat want us to take a selfie again? And who came up with the ridiculously stupid name - selfie?”

“Uh . . .” Race rubbed the back of his head, looking sheepishly. “Kat didn’t really specifically ask for a selfie . . . I just kinda wanted one of us.”

Spot looked amused, grinning at Race. “So you use your friend to get something that you initially want? Way to go.”

“So you’ll do it?” Race’s eyes lit up at the prospect.

Spot didn’t say anything, but pulled Race closer to him allowing him to take the photo. At the last minute, Race turned and kissed Spot’s cheek as the photo was snapped.

Swiping through a couple of new photos before stopping on one that made Spot smile brightly.

Tugging on his untied tie, Race needed something to do with his hands. Spot came over and grabbed his hands, pulling him closer to him. Spot made quick work of the tie, before pushing to his toes kissing Race. “Can you believe we’re getting married?”

“No.” Race grinned. “Seems like we’ve been waiting for this day for so long and now it’s finally here.”

Spot smiled, kissing him sweetly. “I’ll be at the end of the aisle waiting for you.”

Their photographer has snuck in and snapped the photo without either of them knowing it until they got all the photos back. He glanced at it once more before locking his phone. Pushing himself to his feet, he headed out of the waiting room, walking in the direction of the elevator. Pushing himself in the back corner, he watched as others joined them on the descend.

Getting off at floor two, the scent of food hit his nose as he followed it. He leisurely walked through the cafe, looking for anything that at least sounded good. He grabbed a sandwich and a bag of chips, checking out before finding a table by a window. Collapsing into the chair, he took a bite of his sandwich before looking out the window. The falling rain captured his mood perfectly - he felt like half of him was gone, and in reality that was true. He and Race had been joint at the hip since the day they became friends, people rarely saw one without the other.

He finished half of his sandwich, opting the throw the rest away. Grabbing the bag of chips, he headed back upstairs, hoping he hadn’t missed the doctor. Slipping back into the waiting room, he looked around realizing he was the only one in there. Settling back in his chair from before, he let his head drop back against the wall. He hadn’t gotten much sleep that night due to the pain Race was in. He was up, soothing Race and giving him pain medicine trying to ward off whatever was happening.

He let his eyes slide shut, sighing. He heard the door open, cracking open an eye as he saw the nurse from earlier coming closer to him. “Sean?”

Sitting up, his eyes were wide as she looked at him. “I just wanted to let you know that Tony is out of surgery and in the recovery room. He did really well and he has a couple of staples in his stomach that will dissolve within a couple of weeks. We’ll come get you soon and you can see him. Do you have any questions?”

Shaking his head, Spot let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He smiled at her, watching her walk from the room, leaving him alone once more. Pulling out his phone, he quickly texted Kat and Jack giving them both an update.

The door opened once more, the same nurse poking her head in. “Sean? I can take you back to Tony now.”

Hopping to his feet, he noticed a pep in his step as he followed her back through the winding hallways to the recovery room. Pausing at the door, the nurse gave him a look. “He was awake a few moments ago when I came to get you but he’s groggy. He may not remember a whole lot from today but in a couple of hours he should be good to go.”

“Will he be able to go home tonight?” Spot asked, hopeful at having a little piece of Christmas with the family.

She bit her lip. “Though the surgery went well, we’ll have to see how he is. The doctor is hopeful that he’ll be discharged tonight but we’ll have to see.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for Tony.” Spot smiled.

“You’re welcome. Please let us know if either of you need anything.” She pushed open the door. “Also, when he fully wakes up, please press the red button on the remote on his bed - but we’ll be around in the meantime.”

He nodded, walking into the open door and heading to the only bed in the room. His eyes swept Race’s as his chest raised and lowered. Other than the IV in his arm, Spot would’ve never thought anything was wrong. Well, until he looked at his stomach and saw the white gauze taped there.

Sitting in the chair, he laced his fingers with Race’s, squeezing them gently. “Hey you. You made it through surgery with flying colors. They’re not sure if you’ll be discharged tonight . . . guess they’re going to watch you and make sure you’re alright.”

Laying his head on the bed, he relaxed for the first time since late the night before. He listened to Race’s even breath and closed his eyes, quickly falling asleep.

Some time later, he felt something in his hair but his arm was too tired to swat it away. Groaning, he cracked open an eye, not seeing anything out of the ordinary. Closing his eyes once more, he felt something in his hair. Pushing himself up, he looked over at Race, who had a big grin on his face. “Hi.”

“Hi yourself. How are you feeling?” Spot pushed himself to his feet, pressing a kiss to Race’s forehead, before sitting on the edge of the bed..

Shrugging, Race yawned. “A little sore but mostly groggy.”

Spot reached over and pressed the red button as he smiled at Race. “The nurse said you did really well. They’re not sure if you’ll be released tonight but we’ll see.”

Yawning again, Race hummed. “Okay. You doing okay?”

“Better now that you’re awake.” He smiled.

“Sap!” Race flashed him a smile as the door was pushed open.

The nurse came in, checking over Race as Spot stood back, allowing her to pass between them. She flashed them both a smile before telling them the doctor would be in before seeing about getting Race some food.

Spot sat in the chair, sighing quietly, keeping an eye on Race. He was glad he was going to be okay but just wanted to be home with his family. It would definitely be a Christmas they wouldn’t forget for a long time.

Thanks @deliciouspeachpirate for sending this in!!!

[vanosslirious]

BBS Dialogue Prompts #86

BBS Dialogue & Sentence Starter Prompts. [10]

VANOSSGAMING

That’s not a switch, that’s a lever.

Never seen before.

I don’t think we’ll be able to get you.

We can’t help you, dude, there’s so many.

I’m scared, dude, there’s so many.

Shut the fuck up, dude.

If you let me reload.

Are they going to be really slow.

Oh no, I am gonna die.

Found a glitch, guys.

This gun actually sucks.

Or just fucking end it, I don’t care.

I thought you were rich!

What do you mean, let him in here?

Alright, boys, it’s over.

I’m an owl dude, that’s why I can fly.

Our friendship depends on it.

What do we need to tear off?

That’s a fucking big ass jar, dude.

Make sure you fill it to the top.

I AM WILDCAT

I love this place.

We need a keycard, man.

Jump out of the car...now.

Jump out or you’re going to be left behind.

That’s all I need to hear, dude.

This is not our fault.

Where do we go to find a car?

I want to find a car and us be the people in the car to murder others.

We don’t need guns.

Alright, we’re going back, or do we just ditch him?

DAITHI DE NOGLA

Mid-life crisis, you know what it is.

Yep, real hard to hear you with this loud helicopter, just saying.

I’m the good looking one.

We’re going to dance together.

Someone said I’m killing the vibe.

That’s enough dancing, let’s do the heist.

Should’ve let me in.

How do we get in?

Again, I am the pretty one.

I have friends in a lot of places.

THE TERRORISER

This fucking guy almost got me killed.

Shoot his head, shoot him in the head!

Okay, I’m going to die next.

That’s the point.

That’s it, break your wrist, right into the eyes.

We need more shit in the van.

Fuck, she scared the shit out of me.

I got a picture of it.

It’s your cologne, dude, I told you this, your cologne is horrible.

At the age of thirty, this is not happening to me.

MOO

We have to get the plane.

Hold it open.

I have the bolt cutters.

Are you getting in or no?

There’s a lot of people around there.

There’s still someone else.

I really wish I had a real gun.

Confirm it!

Why isn’t it working?

It was definitely him the whole time.

SMII7Y

Oh, do we control it?

Absolutely impossible.

I’m so sorry for your family.

I’m just born with it.

It’s not as bad now, but it’s still as bad.

I’m literally afraid.

I was walking into the room as a double homicide happens.

He has confessed.

Even though you are a murderer, I will still always love you.

He’s been following me for the last twenty minutes.

KRYOZ

Give me your knife, I’ll go fuck him up.

He doesn’t have ears.

Dude, I got there just in time to hear that, holy shit.

No one knows we’re here.

Are we doing this, are we doing this, are we hiding in jail?

I just want to let you know whoever drew that is a completely fucking idiot.

How do you spell that?

I got an angle.

You’re alive!

That was scary.

BASICALLYIDOWRK

We got to get shit.

He actually broke a piece off.

We need to figure this out.

Should we restart.

I jumped in to save you, and now we’re going to lose everything!

I wasn’t on the stack.

Just fucking go play.

That’s what I said, you weren’t listening.

Everyone grab some food.

He’s fucking feigning right now.

FOURZER0SEVEN

I think he’s coming for you.

There goes our fucking raft.

This is romantic though.

I want to play on easy mode.

There’s no way you’re getting that.

Yes, we should go that way.

There’s four people, and one died.

I can’t do anything.

I’m going to kill you, bitch!

Why is it so loud?

H2ODELIRIOUS

Don’t scare me like that.

My flashlight is about to go out.

This is not good.

I hear somebody.

I hear you, motherfucker.

I know he’s around here.

I can’t see shit, where’s he at?

I’m going to sneak up these stairs, and hopefully he doesn’t see me or hear me.

Climb, you fucking bitch.

I’m sorry you had to hear that.

[gray-is-neutral]

Supernatural

a fan fiction pt.4

Cas’ POV

Feelings are odd. It’s funny how a few little chemicals can effect your whole way of thinking. There is still so much I don’t understand about humans, but I’m pretty sure they don’t understand it themselves. Humans can’t choose what they feel, and even though they know this, they get mad at the other fir feeling the way they do? Why can’t these things be rational?

But there is no rationality for how I feel for Dean Winchester. It’s self destructive, addictive, and insane. It caused me so much grief, but I don’t want not to feel this way for him.

We all have our additions. Alcohol, drugs, sex, demon blood, but my poison gives the best high. It’s soul crushing and I love it. Being in love with Dean Winchester is literal hell, but it’s paradise too. How does one explain that? Most days, I would gladly punch him right in the nose, but that thought makes me sad.

Looking at him now, the Empty didn’t matter. It was horrible. I was in pain, and I just wanted to stop existing. He looked at me, and like every time, my heart melted.

“What do you want to talk about?” I asked. He wants to talk about the confession. I was so happy I told him, but that was when I was just going to die right after! I didn’t need to deal with the possibility of rejection. Why does this feel so bad? What the...fuck? Yes fuck! What the fuck is this? Why? Why are emotions so hard?

Now I’m worried what Dean feels for me. I mean, he went to the Empty to save me, and then, “Then I’ll stay with you.” Did he mean it? Was he just trying to motivate me? Would he have stayed in the Empty with me? Forever?

He didn’t even tell Sam, however. I was the one to tell him, and I’m regretting that I did.

“You’re in love with Dean?” he asked surprised. “I admitted that I did. I thought he would have told you?” I said. “Dude. It’s Dean. He would rather get on a plane and sky dive into a volcano than talk about feelings. No chic flic moments, remember?” Sam had said and smiled. “Yeah, I remember,” I told him.

“If you ever think about sacrificing your self for me or anyone else, I will drag your ass back from the dead to kill you myself,” Dean said. I looked at him. He looked relatively normal, but his eyes told a whole other story. Deans eyes always have what he calls “Chick flic” moments. He won’t say a word, but his eyes would scream what he’s feeling.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I said, feeling myself relax. Sam was right. “Dean won’t be able to just come out and talk about his feelings. He just...can’t,” he had said. Dean’s experience in love has been Hell. The lack of live from his parents. Loosing Lisa and Ben, and being forced to be responsible for his younger brother like a parent would, Dean’s....love map? Yes, that is what it’s called. His love map isn’t right. He’s still learning, and how can someone love another person, if they don’t love themselves first?

“We’re back with pie!” Jack yelled as they entered the bunker. It was hard to believe that he was God now. I looked at the child I helped raise. Dean regrets everything he’s done and said about him. He loves Jack, and I know he wishes he could take it all back. Maybe we can all start to actually heal now? No more big evils. Just family, and time.

“Hell yeah!” Dean said. “Uno?” Sam said, walking in. “Really?” “Well you two were taking forever,” said Dean. “What were we supposed to do? Braid each other’s hair?” Dean said, digging in the grocery bags for the pie. “I also have liquor!” said Jack, a little too proud of himself. “I can drink even though I’m God, right?” he asked.

“I guess we couldn’t stop you?” Sam said. I smiled despite myself. I missed this most of all. I was never letting this go again. It was too perfect. “We got the movies! They’re scary movies!” Jack anounces as he finds himself a place on the couch. “Hurry or I’ll start it without you guys!” he called. “I’m making popcorn! Wait!” Sam called.

Dean was getting a piece of pie, as I was looking for ice. “Hey I know angels don’t normally eat, he said, taking a huge bite of the piece he cut for himself. “But do you want a piece? It’s pretty good,” he said. “No I’m good,” I said. “Good, I didn’t want to share,” he said. He had pie all over his face. I held a straight face, and then imagined us like a scene in a movie. He would ask if I wanted any and I would kiss him, and say something teasing. Like, “You had enough on your mouth.” But then I thought that would be disgusting.

He walked out of the kitchen to claim his seat of the couch as Jack got up to get something. Probably candy.

“Dude he is definitely in love with you,” said Sam, joking. “He just doesn’t offer pie,” he said. “Your not funny. Leave it alone Sam. “I thought you two were together now?” Jack asked.

I honestly would have rather been with the Empty. No amount of torture could compare to this. I am getting better with expressions, I think.

“Stop that,” I said. “Can’t we just enjoy a movie?” I said, as Sam grabbed a six pack of some kind of beer. “Yeah, sure,” said Sam. “Opposite sides of the couch!” Sam yelled as Jack laughed. He wasn’t sure why he was laughing, just that it was supposed to be funny.

I rolled my eyes and walked into the living room. “What are we watching?” I asked. “Some horror movie,” he said. “Y’know, you aren’t obligated to hang out with us. You did just come from the Empty. If this is too much for you-“ “No,” I said. “I was isolated. I don’t wanna be alone,” I said.

He cleared his throat as his brother sat on the other side of him. “I got this!” Jack said, making the movie play with his mind. The kid is literally God, but he is so amazed that he has powers, isn’t that...sweet? Jack may be God, but he’s still Jack.

The movie played and Jack soon realized he didn’t like horror movies. “It’s a ghost! Salt! Why won’t they get salt?” By the third movie, Sam had fallen asleep and Jack was deep into the movie. I didn’t really care for it, but I was happy just to have this. This is normality. Movies, junk food, our family. It was perfect.

I noticed a sudden solid warmth on my shoulder. Dean had fallen asleep. How many sleepless nights had he gone through? He’s never fallen asleep like this. Not this vulnerable.

I smiled. Never mind, now it is perfect. I relaxed into this normalcy. I don’t sleep, but I closed my eyes to let myself take in the peace.

Suddenly, the Tv went to static. “Is your party super boring?” a commercial voice said over the tv. The people that looked like children look-alikes of us agreed, upset. “No problem! Just invite your good friend! Gabriel!”

“Heya boys, miss me?” Gabriel asked.

...

“How are you-?” Dean started. “Me? I’m good,” he said. “Castiel!” he said. “This is an exciting day for us, isn’t it?” “Gabriel, how did you?” I started. “Get pass the warding? Oh I just hitched a ride on that lil’ CD, now let me help you boys out.”

Suddenly, we were in a club setting. The place was empty. “You guys don’t have many friends, no surprise, but uhh how’s about some entertainment?” he said. Exotic dancers, male and female, appeared. “Gabriel!” Sam yelled, having had enough.

“Oh!” he lightly tapped his head as though he had forgotten something. “Sorry Sammy, is this more your speed?” We heard a confused scream. Eileen appeared from no where. “Sam!” she called upon seeing him. “Oh wait! Sorry you two broke up right? How’s this?”

A woman in a doctor’s uniform appeared. “What the fuck?” she said turning around quickly. “Where the hell am I? What just happened?” she said. “Enough!” Jack said. We were suddenly back in the bunker, but so were Eileen and the woman.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Jack God sir,” Gabriel said, innocently. “I just wanted to express my gratitude,” he said. “For?” Sam asked. “Why? You saved me!” Gabriel said, dramatically draping himself across Sam. “If you hadn’t woken me up, I would have never escaped the Empty!”

“What?” Dean said, shaking the glitter from his hair. “My new bestie, Sammy boy here, threw those fireworks right by my head. I woke up and high tailed it out of there,” he said. “Did anyone else escape?” Jack asked. “A few low-level demons. Some low level angels. Crowley, Michael, Luci-“ he said.

I could have cried. Never, we can’t just have one normal night can we? “Don’t worry,” said Jack, taking Gabriel by the shoulder. “You guys help them, I’ll handle things really quickly,” he said and just like that, he was gone.

“Jordan!” Dean exclaimed, going to her side. So this is Dr. Jordan Blake. “What in bloody Hell is going on around here?” she demanded. I looked at Sam who was trying to talk to Eileen, it was in sign language, so I didn’t understand.

“I was in New York, and I’m where now?” Dr. Blake asked, trying to make sense of it all. “Look,” Dean said, gently embracing her. “If you stay for just a minute, we can talk and I will explain everything,” Dean said. She nodded and he cupped her face.

Eileen just wanted to leave. Sam offered to drive her home, but she said no. It was hard to tell how they felt about the other. Sam seemed to want to be with her, but Eileen seemed to want to forget recent events. I didn’t blame her because I understand wanting to forget. She felt used and forced. Now sh egg doesn’t know how she feels or felt. She doesn’t know if it was real. But did forgetting what happened also mean forgetting Sam?

Jack soon returned and took Eileen home. “Call me?” Sam asked. “Maybe,” she said quitely. Then she was gone.

I looked at the doctor, but soon noticed his young shr was. A little younger than Sam. I felt a pang of jealousy. He was so soft with her, but then I thought about the way he looked. It wasn’t how he looked at Lisa. It was how he looked at Jo or Sam.

He saw her like a sister, and for a second I was jealous of her. This is pathetic.

Dean gave her the her the speech. “Angels?” she huffed. “Of course it’s angels,” she laughed. “If I hear another thing about angels tonight,” she said.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked her. She rose her shirt to show the same tattoo that Sam and Dean had. “You’re a hunter,” said Sam.

This was going to be a long night.

[shanie-the-toyaddict]

1, 9, 15, 17, 21, 25, 26, 29, 33, 41, 46, 48, 54, 59, 68, 73, 81, 96, 98

😊

Oh my word! That's a lot!

Ok, here goes.

Behind cut for length

1. Name - I prefer Shanie but my parents call me “Mis”. Well, my mom calls me “Mis” my father calls me “Pooch” which I despise. Just stick with Shanie.

9. What did you study - I changed majors midway through college. I started out as an art major focusing on computer animation. That didn’t work out at ALL. Turns out I sucked ass at computer animation. Too much math involved. So I switched to a major in teaching with minors in history and popular culture. Unfortunately I failed at that too and, while I did graduate, it was with a degree in “Planned Program” which is a polite way of saying “General Ed”. I did earn my two minors though, so I guess that’s something!

15. Relationship Status -  Single. Very Very Single. I haven’t had a single date in about 10 years. By the looks of it, I’m going to stay single.

17. Do you have a crush - Do celebrities count? If not then no. I don't even know anyone IRL to have crushes on. I legit have nobody in my IRL life outside of my parents and my case manager. Kind of hard to have a crush when you don't have any friends or even acquaintances.

21: How was your day -  Well, today I got nothing accomplished. I did have a meeting with my case manager, so that was nice. It’s nice to have someone to talk to and infodump on (which she lets me). Outside of that I woke up, had breakfast, lunch, and dinner, had a nap, and went to Dairy Queen for ice cream on the way home. Unfortunately, DQ is on the far side of town and by the time I got home, it was melted. So it went in the fridge to eat later once it refreezes. Outside of that it was a pretty boring day.

25. Your fears - Whoo-ee. Ok. So coming in with the borderline I’d say my biggest fear is abandonment. That just comes with the territory. After that I have a huge fear of storms and waking up in a fire, both brought about by recurring nightmares. I also have a fear of flying (too much Air Crash Investigations) and I hate elevators. I’m not claustrophobic mind you, I just have a fear that they will fall on me. Anything over 3 stories and I’m having an anxiety attack. There are other, lesser fears but those are some of the big ones.

26. Your dreams - Well, in a literal sense, my dreams are wild, crazy adventures that I get most of my fanfics from. From a metaphorical standpoint I really don’t have any. I’ve given up on hoping for anything good in my life. I’m too busy trying to get from day to day to indulge in long term planning. I know it seems terrible, but it’s the truth.

29. Hobbies - Obviously action figures, that much is clear. I collect and customize them to display in my apartment. I also like making digital art (sometimes) and am starting to get into illustrations/artwork. However, I don’t have a tablet/pen for the computer so everything is done with the mouse and GIMP (which makes it difficult). I’m an avid collector of digital media. Some of my big ones are Doctor Who DVDs, Wrestling Entrance Themes, and Official Xena Photos (not the physical ones, jpeg scans). I used to be big into Wizard101 and, while I don’t really play anymore, I still like following the game on YT and on here.

33. Languages you speak – Only English, except it’s a very specific English. I usually speak what’s called the “Yinzer” dialect which is a dialect that is unique to the Pittsburgh region. That’s why you see me use the word “Yinz” a bunch. That’s our word for “You guys” or “Y’all”. However, while most of my speech is Yinzer, I have watched enough British TV in my lifetime to have picked up some Brit speech. It confuses the hell out of people when I use it because you’ll have me say things like “My apartment needs cleaned” and then follow it up thirty seconds later with, “I’m rubbish at cleaning.” My mother has picked up on this and sometimes calls me her “British Daughter” because of it.

41. Your Device Background – My phone’s lock screen is a picture of Shane in his Roman Centurion outfit from the one Royal Rumble photo shoot. My phone background is a checkered wallpaper with “SZ” on it for Sami Zayn. (That one might be getting changed if he stops being Sami.) And my computer background is just a night sky over the mountains. I rarely ever see my computer wallpaper so I don’t mind that it is a generic background.

46. The most dangerous thing you’ve done – You know how Lucy breathes fire on Xena? I taught myself how to do that. That wasn’t bright to begin with but it was made so much worse that I was underage and couldn’t buy Bacardi and was using lamp oil instead. I was young and dumb.

48. Some things you’ve tried in your life – Funny thing, I’m a sucker for strange foods. There was a list going around that said “How many of these weird foods have you eaten” and I think I had eaten all but six of them and that was only because I didn’t have access to them. I’m proud to say that, since then, I’ve knocked Quail Egg off the list! Turns out the local Japanese restaurant served it. So that knocked it down to five. Still need to get ahold of some gator meat and haggis. I’d love to try Foie Gras but it’s just so damn unethical that I don’t know if I could bring myself to eat it. Pheasant is another one that I’d love to try but I can’t convince my parents to buy me one (and I’m far too poor to afford it myself). But, yeah. I love strange foods. I’ll pretty much try any food once if I know it’s safe to eat.

54. Any tattoos or piercings – Unless you count partially pierced ears then no. And my ears are only partially pierced because after I had them done they got infected so I tried to let them heal shut. They ended up not closing fully and now, if I’m not adverse to a bit of pain, I can still wear earrings occasionally.

59. Song you wouldn’t normally admit you like – Judas is my guilty pleasure song. I know Jericho is a douchebag and I have tried to hate the song but I can’t. I end up singing along every time.

68. Favorite Movie/Series - Hmm... well, my all time favorite movie is definitely “The Towering Inferno”, hands down. I’ve lost count how many times I’ve seen that. I’m a sucker for disaster movies and, in my opinion, that one is the cream of the crop. I actually like it better than “The Poseidon Adventure” simply because I think the movie is inferior to the book. That said, I’ve also read both of the books that “The Towering Inferno” is based on and I like the combined movie better than them. Favorite series, however, I don’t think I have one definitive favorite series. I’ve had favoriteS like Xena, Buffy, Sherlock, Doctor Who, etc, but I’ve never had one all time favorite.

73: Favorite Greek God – Oh geez. Hmmm... You know, I’m going to have to go with Hermes here, primarily because I have this theory that he is the god of the internet. I know there was no internet in ancient Greece but, frankly, Hermes is the god of commerce, communication, travelers, and thieves. While it’s true that Hephaestus is the god of technology and would probably be the god of computers, I fully believe that Hermes would be the patron of the interwebs.

81 Favorite Books – In all honesty, going to college for 8 years burned me out for reading and now I can barely bring myself to read a comic book. For this reason, most of my favorite books come from childhood. My all time favorite book as a kid was “Flight #116 Is Down” by Caroline B Cooney. It was a disaster story about plane crash in a young woman’s back yard. Somehow, everyone didn’t die – a fact which was called out in the final pages when a fireman says that the crash was extremely odd because “usually they’re all dead.” That book might be another reason I’m terrified of flying. Other favorite books of mine was the “Fear Street Saga Trilogy” (Not the Fear Street Series, the trilogy that served as the origin story). I also like the Hitchhikers Guide saga but when I found out that Douglas Adams died before he could finish the saga, I stopped reading after book 4 so that the story had a happy ending. Novelizations in general are a big thing for me too, I’ve read some really good ones over the years and it’s fascinating to see how they differ from the movies they’re based on.

96. Hero or Villain – Well, if my dreams are anything to go by, I’m a villain at heart. I know, weird right? You all think I’m such a nice person but really, I have a huge dark side to me IRL and, if I was in a world where superheroes were real and I had superpowers I would almost certainly use them for evil. Or, at the very least I would use them to force social change ala Dr. Horrible.

98. Shapeshifting or Controlling Time – SHAPESHIFTING! Oh my goodness shapeshifting! I would love that so much! First of all, I wouldn’t be this huge anymore. I could be as heavy or a skinny as I want. Also, I wouldn’t have to worry about looking old or losing my hair! Plus, can you imagine the cosplay potential!? Forget dressing as the 13th Doctor, I AM THE 13th DOCTOR! That would just be the best!

PHEW! That was a lot! Thanks so much for the ask! This was fun. I love ask games.

[sanders-sides-fic]

Old friends die hard

Masterpost: here

Taglist:  @gattonero17

Trigger warning: Blood, isolation (past), repression

The first time they noticed was with Remus. They didn’t realize right away, but it was quite obvious thinking back. The way Virgil’s whole demeanor changed when he talked to him. The hissing tone laying low in his voice was obvious and so where the aggressive words. But there were more subtle things as well. The way Virgil would lean towards Remus when he got pumped up, but refused to face him with his whole body, quite literally giving him the cold shoulder. The way he would roll his eyes every so often and how he would click his tongue in annoyance.

Janus was later the same week, and just maybe they wouldn’t even have connected the dots if it hadn’t been so close to each other. But the very moment Janus showed up, Virgil’s entire posture changed. His back was more stiff and his head lowered every so slightly. But his limps weren’t tense as they usually were when he felt threatened or uncomfortable. And when Janus started talking, he didn’t voice his thoughts or interrupt, he only scoffed and that was enough to make Janus stop and look at him, asking: “So you disagree?” And when that caused the two of them to start bickering, Virgil let his hands fall down to his sides and leaned forward, towards Janus, yet turning the head to the side slightly.

After that, they realized it was the other way around, too: One grin from Remus or one raised brow from Janus was enough to convey the message to the purple side. Janus would lean forward when he said something personal to Virgil, only to assume his perfect posture in a flowing motion and look to the side or at his gloved hands afterwards. Remus would lean in while he was making faces or something and leaned back the rest of their conversation.

And then came the hissing-incident. At once point in the conversation, Virgil had hissed at Janus, who - very much to the surprise of Roman and Patton, who were there at the time - hissed right back. They went back and forth, leaning in just a bit more with every noise their throats let out. Neither Roman not Patton could make out any difference between their hisses, but both Virgil’s and Janus’ face looked as thy did during one of their arguments, and the expressions shifted as they would during a conversation.

And then, after about a minute of Roman being speechless and Patton trying to calm the two of them down - Remus just appeared in between them, letting out an unholy screech. It was long and agonizing to the light sides, but neither Virgil nor Janus had even flinched. Instead, they only looked at Remus and simultaneously hissed at the mustached man. And Remus hissed back, making Virgil visibly recoil and emitting a scandalized gasp from Janus.

None of the trio was seen for the rest of the day.

When Roman and Patton explained to Logan in detail what had happened once Virgil refused to leave his room for dinner, the logical side hummed in thought. “Perhaps this is merely my own imagination, but… Don’t you think Virgil seems different? When interacting with Janus or Remus, I mean?”

“So you noticed too?!”, Roman gasped, jumping out of his chair. He immediately begun to recite how Virgil had been all smiles and jokes with him, and then just stared a hole into Janus not even a second after. Janus had smiled and tipped his hat and once Janus had been gone, Virgil had been back to normal with Roman. “And I mean, sure, he doesn’t like them, but he didn’t act like that before we became friends with us either, did he?”

“Well… We do know that he used to be one of them.”, Patton offered hesitantly.

Roman shook his head, however: “Not because he wanted to, my chocolate-chip covered friend. There was a reason he left, and he made it clear enough that talking about it is too horrible a feat to accomplish, hasn’t he now?”

“But we don’t know what was before that. There is the possibility that something happened, and that things changed for them after that.” It was, of cause, Logan who pointed this out. And while Roman gasped, Patton hummed in thought: “He does look kinda somber when talking about them sometimes…”

“What are you saying, that he misses them?”, Roman asked disbelievingly.

“No, I do not think he does. However, it’s quite obvious that he did hold them dear at one point. The incident that caused their figurative bond to break, whatever it was…”

“…must have been a huge deal.”, Patton nodded in agreement, finishing the sentence. “I agree. I wonder what it was?” But none of them dared ask Virgil, not when the subject got him that defensive and angry so very quickly. Turns out, they didn’t need to ask.

It was Janus who showed up late that night - bleeding profoundly. He was obviously trying to hide it and get up to his room, but Virgil wouldn’t let him. He just took the scaly side by the brim of his cape and dragged him to the couch, where he summoned a first aid kit. “Virgil, you don’t have to, I can just-”

“Liar.” Virgil didn’t even look up from the bandages as he pointed that out, shutting Janus up for a bit. It was barely worth the effort to deny it with the sheer amount of blood on him. When Virgil snapped his fingers to uncover Janus’ upper body, his breath hitched.

The others were in the kitchen, not wanting to intrude. That also meant that they couldn’t see how badly Janus was hurt, though. But for Virgil’s breath to hitch, it had to be pretty bad.

“Well… Fuck. Did you have to save Remus’ ass again or something?”, Virgil asked, sounding almost… exasperated? Janus chuckled drily.

“Or something. I made a mess out of things because that thing ate some of my mice and… I guess it was kind of like a mogwai-thingy? Anyway, it snapped and, well, you can see how that went.”

“He has to stop make food-based monsters when he’s hungry.”, Virgil sighed. It was silent for a bit after that. Until Janus decided to speak again, this time carefully, in an almost-whisper: “I’ve missed this.”

“Yeah? Should have thought about that sooner, don’t you think?”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

A scoff from Virgil. “So you’ve said.”

“No, really.” That was Janus’ voice insisting, with a tremor like he was holding back tears. “Virgil, I am truly, deeply sorry.”

“I know. But sorry doesn’t quite cut it.”

“What can I do to make it up to you?” Janus sounded desperate, and Virgil tired: “Janus… I can’t just forget about that. What you did was… It made me too scared to be around you, you know? I needed a place to feel safe again, and I found one.”

“I didn’t mean to. Virgil, you have to believe me, I never would have done that if I had known… I just wanted you two to stop fighting. I wasn’t planing on… on…”

“On repressing me? On caging me in the subconscious for days? Alone? In the darkness? Together with all of Remus’ creations that were too dangerous to be kept anywhere else?”

“Yes.”, Janus sighed defeatedly. “That. We searched for you, you know? Every place we could think of. Remus even made some slimes that ate doors because he thought that might help. It didn’t but… the thought was there.”

Silence. Then: “Does he hate me? For leaving him, like Roman did?” Roman tensed, biting his lip. He made a mental note to apologize to his now freely-roaming brother again later.

“Not really, no. He misses you and he’s disappointed. But he’s blaming me, and a bit himself. He is jealous though, your new friends should be careful. Especially Logan. He made a comment or two about your debate…” Virgil hummed.

“I’m not proud about who I was back then either, you know? I changed, for the better I hope, but I definitely changed.”

“You do seem happier. Are they your family now?”

“Yes.” The answer was so fast, he couldn’t even have thought about it. “They are, and I love them.”

“And you hate us.” It wasn’t a question, more like a statement, but Virgil scoffed at it and shot it down right away. “If my feelings would’ve changed, I would’ve changed how I act around you, too.”

“So… You’ll forgive me? Eventually?”

“Dunno. Maybe. Not yet, though. And now put your gloves back on, being this honest isn’t like you.”

A low chuckle. “You’re right. But before that, Virgil? I still love you. And I miss you.”

Virgil coughed awkwardly. “Right. Don’t die, yeah?”

“Oh, don’t worry, Virgy. I die as hard as old habits. Have fun with your second family, then.”

Footsteps retreating. Virgil scoffed. “Just because I have two families now doesn’t mean one has to be second…”, he mumbled, unknowingly making Patton smile.

The three in the kitchen agreed that they wouldn’t tell either of them that they’d heard. But from then on, they made sure the other three sides found themselves in a room together more often. And all of them watched more carefully for the clues of Virgil’s change in posture and behaviour, remembering everything they could about the glimpses of a Virgil from before they’d properly met. 

[tropicalfreckles]

Friends Again CH 5

MASTER LIST found here

SUMMARY: A new dilemma has risen in Lydia that she takes to the only one she can talk to about it.

SOLIDARITY

B**TLEB*BES DNI

(TW mentions of J*no, mentions of murder(no murder tho), mentions of bullying, mentions of the wedding death scene)))

Another day of school, another day of Lydia having complex feelings bubble up in her stomach. This was getting borderline exhausting with all the thoughts she kept bottled up inside. Even though she had become more comfortable with her therapist, she still wasn't sure if she wanted to just spill her guts out about these thoughts. Closing the front door behind her, she swung her backpack off while exhaling a long groan. No one was home yet except for the Maitlands, of course. They were probably upstairs since she didn't see them after scanning the living room. Rummaging through her backpack on the table she pulled out things she needed for homework then sluggishly retreated upstairs. School wasn't engaging and often times left her yearning for more. The Maitlands had recently found a way to help make her learning more simulating through their ghostly powers. They were still learning themselves. They tried learning more from the Handbook for the Recently Deceased. However, as Adam put it, it 'read like radio instructions'. Lydia didn't have too much of a hard time understanding it personally. Though that probably was because she loved deciphering the nonsensical text.

Should she let the Maitlands know she's home?

She usually would announce herself. Yet, that feeling wasn't leaving her stomach. It dampening her mood. Lydia didn't want to bother the ghostly couple with her problem. Since she still didn't understand it entirely herself. It was days like these she wished her mom was still alive. Regret wove itself in her every once in a while for leaving the Netherworld. Missing her chance to reconnect with her mother again. She knew deep down it was for the best. She would've also liked it if Delia and her dad had waited for a while before getting wed. She understood though they felt the fleetingness of life and wanted to make the best of it as long as they both were breathing. That would be another can of worms for Lydia to tackle another day. Lydia tossed her things on her bed when she entered her room. Closing the door behind her then took off her shoes. Her nerves were starting to get the best of her when she walked over to her mirror and gazed at herself.

"Why are feelings stupid..." She muttered. Grabbing a hair tie off of her stand, she ran her fingers through the raven locks tying it up.

"That's because you breathers have too many feelings; It makes shit complicated." A gravely voice chimed in. Lydia flinched for a moment then turned to scowl at the older man.

"I told you that you couldn't come into the house yet!" She snarled at him. Lydia began rubbing the pads of her forefinger and middle in circles against the temple of her head. Beetlejuice snorted then crossed his arms.

"You ain't exactly the boss of me kid. I do what I want. Within reason of your dumb rules. Besides, I was bored waiting in the stupid cemetery. There weren't any breathers to mess with today so I couldn't get anyone else to say my name." Beetlejuice rambled on, giving Lydia a shrug. The young teen threw herself face first on her bed. She thought over for a moment how risky this was.

"You didn't let Barabara and Adam see you, right?" Lydia questioned, sitting up a little on her elbows. Beetlejuice hummed while pulling his eyes out from their sockets.

"Nope, not a peep!" He snickered while tossing them in the air like a pair of die. Lydia looked on unamused before rolling on her back to stare up at the ceiling. The demon popped his eyes back in.

"Oh boy, are you having one of those angsty teen moments again? Am I gonna have to leave while you recite goth poetry or some shit?" He floated up from the ground then whipped over to her. Lydia inhaled deeply before giving a loud groan.

"Go away if you're gonna be an ass." Lydia reached out for a pillow to grab. Beetlejuice tensed up as he knew it was meant for his face. He deflated a little when he saw her hug then bury herself against it. Just as the teen hated when he would get moody, he felt the same about her. Though it was strange, the past three months now that they've been hanging out he has started to feel something he never had before. Was it that gross thing called empathy? He sighed deeply while busying himself with picking at his nails. This was going to require some finesse.

"Alright, you twisted my arm Lyds. What's bugging ya? What can your ol' pal Mr. Betelboose do to, ugh, 'help'?" He peered from the corner of his eye to see if she'd budge. She did not. He did get a grunt in response. Some progress was a win for him. Lydia flailed her legs a little as a muffled groan rose from her. The demon patiently waited for her to speak.

"As bizarre as it is to say.." Lydia dug her fingernails into her pillow as she pulled it away from her face finally. Her features scrunched up, her lips pursed. Relaxing after a moment of what looked like deep contemplation from Beetlejuice's perspective she finally spoke. "I think you might be the only person I can talk to about this." Lydia softly spoke.

Now, this was interesting.

She was actually being vulnerable to him. He only saw her do that once and that was when she summoned him back from the Netherworld. That was because of everything that built up from before. This seemed to be a new dilemma on the young girl's mind. He waved his hand to let her know she could continue.

"Beej. When did you discover that you had feelings for guys, too?" Lydia drawled out while shiftily gazing around the room. Anywhere other than making eye contact. Beetlejuice stroked his scruffy chin while trying to figure out what she meant by that. Was there a boy she liked? Did his stoic bratty friend actually have sappy feelings as well?

Wait.

"You're asking how I knew I was into more than just women? Well, first off, there is one thing ya gotta know about the Netherworld. Most folks swing both if not all ways." Beetlejuice jokingly conjured up a baseball bat and took multiple swings in different directions with it. It earned him a snort which he grinned at before continuing.

"It kind of came as an easy realization for me. I know that the stupid shit you breathers go about here on the mortal plane carries off into the Netherworld sometimes. It doesn't stick for long cause who the hell are you gonna complain to? No one." He rolled his eyes remembering all of the bigoted folks that would come through and get their panties in a twist at how the rest of the Netherworld was. While he wasn't the biggest fan of staying there all the time it wasn't always horrible there. The world of the living was more of a party for him.

"How did you really know, though?" Lydia hugged the pillow closer to her while sitting up. Beetlejuice plopped himself onto the bed next to her. Lydia had a surprisingly smart melon in that goth head of hers. He was curious why she was doubting herself so much.

"Probably when I made out with that one famous painter." He picked at his teeth. Lydia arched a brow.

"Which one?"

"You know me, scarecrow, don't kiss and tell." He grinned at her. Lydia gently smacked his knee.

"Oh BS, you always name drop famous people." She snorted. Beetlejuice snickered, moving his hands behind him then slid back more on the bed.

"You're right, I just don't remember the guy's name right now. Listen. I guess I get it. I've been observing you breathers for almost a millennia. Feelings are gross. But I know when it comes to this stuff it can be hard. Especially for kids. If there's something ya gotta blab to me about." He tilted his head in her direction while making sure he had her attention. She gave a slow nod for him to continue, "Then I'm listening."

Lydia inhaled deeply. This was nerve-racking. She just didn't know how to even express herself.

"I... I might have." Lydia banged her head into the soft pillow and gave a small whine. "I might.. like a girl at school." She spoke barely above a whisper. Beetlejuice leaned over since he could barely hear her. Lydia wrinkled her nose at the smell yet allowed him to do so.

"What was that kid? Gotta speak up." He gave a coy smile. Lydia scowled at him then looked away.

"I said... That I might like a girl at school. I'm not repeating myself again." Her cheeks were heating up at how embarrassing this was. Not so much expressing her feelings. It was more talking about a damn school crush to her stupid demon friend she was starting to make amends with. She looked over to him after a moment of making sure he wasn't going to tease her then noticed him grinning wide.

"Yeah, that's what I thought you said. HA. Of course, you're into girls! Look at you, you're tiny, snarky all the time and goth." Beetlejuice yammered on as he elbowed her side.

"Ha-ha, is this amusing to you or something? I just spilled my damn guts out." Lydia frowned, her cheeks flushed. Beetlejuice shook his head.

"Eh, maybe a little, I just find it funny that widdle Lydia has a crush. Always figured you were too feral and hated people too much for that." He pinched her cheek. She was close to snapping her teeth at his fingers. She opted for batting his hand away. Lydia wiped her cheek with her sleeve. He snickered in response then rested his elbows on his knees.

"Call me 'widdle' again and I'll throw you off the roof as I did before." She stuck her tongue out at him then took note of him smirking at her. "What?"

"Nuthin'. Just weird seeing you actually act like a teenager instead of your usual dry, deadpan self." He patted her hard on the back to which she grunted at him. "Good for you! Better to be your real self than locking that shit away. Dolores and Chuck'll probably be. I don't know, what's that word you breathers use now? 'Woke'? About this. I know the Maitlands will be. Ugh, they are just soooo supportive it's disgusting." He gagged at his last sentence to which Lydia rolled her eyes.

"I don't know if I'm going to tell anyone. At least not yet." Lydia softly spoke as she played with the pillow resting in her lap. Beej quirked a brow at her then snorted. He gave a soft bap on her head with his fist.

"Listen. I don't normally give pep talks that aren't about scaring, murder or crap. I guess I can try to understand. Daphne might be too intrusive about it. Chuck might just be super awkward about it and say something embarrassing. The other nerds are definitely gonna dote on you." Beetlejuice picked at his teeth. "Eh, take your time if you wanna. Just know that the Netherworld when ya shed your meat-sack body is gonna be fine with who or what yer into. Fuck what anyone else thinks." He let out a long yawn then stretched a little. "Trying to be nice makes me wanna take a nap or doing something nasty. Or hurl. Can't decide, this is gross."

Lydia looked over the demon while taking note of his words. She snickered at him dramatically pretending to upheave then shoved him.

"Stop being gross for five minutes." Lydia snorted then sat back on her bed finally letting go of her pillow. "Honestly.. My stomach is in a knot still. Part of me kind of wants to tell her however I don't want people to.." Midway through Lydia trailed off into a soft whisper. "I just don't want more of a reason for people to target me at school. I can handle myself for the most part. Just kind of hard when they gang up on me." She tugged at the edge of her school uniform. Without skipping a beat Beetlejuice responded.

"Want me to kill 'em for ya? I mean, if they're that big of lil assholes I'd probably be doing their parents a favor." Beetlejuice grinned while taking out a knife from his sleeve. "I'll 'cut' them down to size!" He cackled while swishing the knife around. Lydia ducked down then snorted.

"No. Murder isn't the answer to everything, BJ. Those girls are jerks but they aren't the root of the problem. Kids don't naturally act like bigoted brats. It's probably coming from their parents or something, to begin with." Lydia grabbed his arm to make him stop swinging the knife. Beetlejuice clicked his tongue then thought over what she said.

"Alright. Kill the parents and the brats. Two for two-plus no sad little orphans!" Beetlejuice hovered off the bed in glee while throwing his arms up into the air. "It'll be a real scream Lyds! Just let me loose on 'em! Come on! I haven't killed anyone since Juno!" He flexed his fingers while looking to her like an overjoyed child in a candy store. Lydia raised her hand up with a shake of her head.

"Didn't I just say murder wasn't the answer to everything?" She answered dryly while quirking a brow at him.

"I don't know, you murdered me pretty fast to try and kick my ass into the Netherworld," Beetlejuice muttered. Lydia inhaled deeply through her nostrils then slapped his thigh with her pillow.

"I'm serious. No murdering people on my behalf. I appreciate the enthusiasm but I don't want the cops on me. Making people suffer is more fun anyway." Lydia dropped the pillow then stretched her legs out. Beetlejuice floated back down to the bed then gave a little pout.

"Bah. Thought you were more fun than that, kid. Though torture also sounds like a blast." He stroked his scruffy chin. The goth teen kicked her feet against the edge of the bed.

"I was thinking more about pranking." She chuckled. "You know.. I might try talking to that girl. Just not yet." Lydia lulled her head against her shoulder to peer back at the demon. "I hate to stroke that big ego of yours. I wanna tell you that I kind of appreciate you talking to me about this. It's nice to talk to someone else who is attracted to the same gender." She took out her phone then opened the browser.

"Plus I see myself as more than one gender. Though that's a topic for another time, kid." He waved his hand as a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Lydia swung her head up to stare at him.

"Oh; does that mean you're genderfluid?"

"Gender what now?" Beetlejuice quizzically stared at her while scratching the top of his scalp. Lydia quickly brought something up on her phone then showed him.

"You identify as more than one gender. See?" Lydia began scrolling through a website about the LGBTQ+ community while Beetlejuice crossed his arms and tried reading over it.

"Huh. Well shit. Guess so? Then what's being attracted to more than one gender?" He quickly snatched the phone out of her hand to look over it more.

"Well, that is a broader category. You could be either Bisexual or Pansexual." She sat up on her knees as she pressed the pad of her forefinger into the screen. Slowly she scrolled back up on the browser and pointed out the two. Beetlejuice hummed then plopped the phone back into her lap.

"Learn something new every day!" Beetlejuice grinned. The two froze when they heard the familiar voice of a woman echoing through the house.

"Lydia?? Are you home? We can get started on your homework if you want!" Barbara's hand began phasing through the door. With that Beetlejuice flung himself out the window as Lydia swatted grave dirt he left behind on her bed.

"Coming Barbara!" Lydia called.

She couldn't keep hiding him forever.