#I’m just late sharing. I really like the sketches look at John look at my guy

[samglyph]

Everyone should give @potato-lord-but-not money I’ve acquired little guys. Look at em.

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

wip wednesday sketch dump

tagged by: @ivymarquis @josephseedismyfather @cassietrn @direwombat @finding-comfort-in-rain @cloudofbutterflies92 @kyber-infinitygems @josephslittledeputy (and likely others, I have been very absent as of late...sorry)

okay, so uh clearly the art won for that poll (heh, always knew the cod fic was just for me... anyhoo) here's the sketchy sketches for oc kiss week. They are very, VERY rough still so please forgive

I won't run with the usual tag list but if you see this feel free to consider yourself tagged

(Top: Kit and @dickytwister oc Elliot Fletcher, Kit and @statichvm oc Katherine O'Neill Middle: Rory and @statichvm oc Lily Watt, Rory and @direwombat oc Saoirse Monaghan Bottom: Kit and @theelderhazelnut oc Ombra, Kit and @florbelles oc Lyra Fairbanks)

*I still have a few more sketches to get done, so if you were in my replies asking for some art, its on the way*

going to tag @strangefable @isobel-thorm and @direwombat for the cod stuff since y'all were kind enough to indulge me in a little scene I wrote for chapter 11 (even if I'm still supposed to be working on chapter 9 lol)

“You were jealous, weren't you?”

“Of course I was bloody jealous, Rory. Look at you, can you really blame me? I've been with my fair share of women, but Jesus, none of them can hold a match to you, my girl.”

“Your girl?”

“Listen, I've been trying my damnedest to keep my composure here. You think I went into this expecting to have this happen with my subordinate? It's rule number one and I'm here breaking it for you.” He sighed. “I had to listen to you in my fuckin’ ear, Rory. It was a goddamn nightmare.”

“And so what, you want to have that be the foundation for a relationship? The fact that I nearly died and you had to pull me out of there? That’s the foot you want to start on? It’s like I said last night, this is a dangerous game to be playing and I am not worth the trouble. I’m not worth your career.”

“And why’s that, eh?”

“I’m a fucking mess, that’s why. I’ve got nightmares, anxiety attacks, tremors, flashbacks. I’m in no place to start anything with anyone. And certainly not with someone who’s life could be upended because of me.”

“I don’t care.” He shrugged and gave a slight thrust of his pelvis as he crossed his arms over his chest. Obstinate, pigheaded right to the bitter end, refusing to back down from anything. This was Captain John Price type behavior through and through. 

“What do you mean ‘you don’t care’?”

“You think all that’s gonna keep me away from you?”

“Well it should.”

“Why?” He lowered his head, looking up at her through his brow. Constantly challenging her. 

“Trust me, after several nights of no sleep from me waking up with nightmares, you’ll understand.”

His eyes narrowed for a brief moment, the crows feet by his eyes creasing. “Someone else left you ‘cause o’that?”

Rory grimaced and bit down on her molars. Her eyes fell to the floor as she turned her head away from him. She didn’t have to say anything, her body language gave it all away.

Price’s face darkened at her reaction. If it was up to him he’d hunt down whoever it was and teach them a lesson, but that isn’t what she would want to hear.  “Christ, don’t tell me someone actually did that?”

“Of course someone did that, John. Most people who see that side of me either think of me like I’m holding on by a goddamn thread or I'm just another broken soldier. And if it's not that, it's the whole horde of other shit in my head.” She rubbed at her brow. “People don’t want to fall in love with someone like me. It’s too hard to do.”

“Well, lucky for you I’m a bit of a stubborn bastard. I’m willin’ to put in the hard work. I can be goddamn relentless when need be.”

Rory scoffed, “I’d expect nothing less from you.”

He gave her a little crooked grin and stepped forward, cupping her face in his large hands, his thumbs stroking her cheeks softly. “I’m only gonna tell you this once, darlin’.” He leaned down and pressed his forehead to hers. “I don’t care about how much trouble you might be, you hear me? I have to have you, Rory. I need you to be mine, yeah? Simple as.”

It was her turn to ask the question. “Why?”

“Because if there’s anyone who’s going to understand what’s going on in that pretty head of yours, it's me. I wanna protect you. I wanna make sure somethin’ like this never happens again. I can’t even take the thought of you bein’ with someone else besides me.”

“I’m not willing to take the risk.”

He nodded his head slightly. “Well, I’m patient. Persistent. I can wait as long as I have to.”

“Fucking hell. You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Not after what I saw last night.”

[crepesuzette2023]

Paul McCartney, Celia Mortimer, Iris & Vi Caldwell & Mike McCartney: Sketches for a Coming-of-Age Novel.

All quotes from TUNE IN by Mark Lewisohn, except the last one.

[Paul] had two main girlfriends in the last weeks of 1962 and neither knew of the other. One was Celia Mortimer, 17, the strikingly attractive redhead from art school who designed her own clothes and was a big Beatles fan at the Cavern.

'In my first year at art College everyone was wild about trad jazz, but then word came up the hill that ‘things were happening’ at the Cavern; a few of us went down one lunchtime to have a look—and there were the Beatles. […] It was the first time anyone in Britain had the black polo neck, black corduroy, existentialist look. I instantly took their lead and started to make hip black corduroy things to wear.'

‘[…] Paul was attractive, intelligent, arty, all the things that appealed to me, plus he was good to be with: a genuine, gentle person who wanted to please. He was the complete opposite of John, who was snarly and grumpy and incredibly, incisively funny. Paul was the nice one. We started to go out, but things were still quite innocent. Because I lived some way out of Liverpool there weren’t many places we could go, except to sit in his dad’s front room or my friend’s front room, or the cinema—we saw the first James Bond film.’ EXOTIC NIGHTMARES

Paul’s other girlfriend was Iris Caldwell—Rory Storm’s witty, pretty, blonde sister; George’s first love; the 18-year-old daughter of Ma Storm, whose house, Hurricaneville at 54 Broad Green Road, was central to the Beatles’ late-night social scene.

‘He had a beautiful voice and puppy-dog eyes,’ Iris says, ‘and he was much more interested in me than I was in him. I wanted more than a tuppence-ha’penny guitarist of a Liverpool group.’ Iris’s professional dancing career had taken off: she was as busy as Paul, working summer seasons and London shows and touring around the country; they could only see each other when their diaries dovetailed, and just as Paul was with Celia when Iris was out of town, she was secretly going out with Frank Ifield. […]

Iris always knew that a big part of the attraction for anyone going out with her or Rory was the chance of extended time at Hurricaneville, to hang longer around her dad Ernie and especially her mum, Vi. […] ‘Mum never chucked anyone out,’ Iris says. ‘We were all late-night people apart from me dad, who the Beatles called the Crusher because he had exotic nightmares and ate household objects.’ […]

Mary had been gone for six years this October, and Vi Caldwell was one of the women who tried to fill the breach. ‘I was practically a mother to Paul,’ she said without boasting. She made him food and drink, took his stage-soaked shirts and washed and ironed them, and shared easy intimacies. ‘Paul used to like her combing his legs,’ Iris says. ‘He had really hairy legs and he’d come in from the Cavern all tired, roll up his trousers and she used to comb his legs. How ridiculous can you get? But he adored my mum and my mum adored him.’

Vi recalls: ‘Paul was very temperamental. He would come on occasions and would be terrifically friendly and down-to-earth, and on other occasions he would come and be rather aloof and we wondered if we had offended him, as if he was thinking ‘I’m being too friendly so I’ll keep you in your place.’ That was our impression.’

THRILLING IN A DIFFERENT WAY

[Paul] was without the others, but with Celia Mortimer…and a new song. It was Tuesday/Wednesday 23/24 October [1962], the Beatles’ sole two-day break of the year, and Paul decided to leave his car at home and have an adventure: he and Celia hitch-hiked to London to see Ivan Vaughan. Paul loved hitching: he enjoyed chatting to strangers and seeing himself in an observational role, but he’d only done it with George or John, never with a girl. Celia—intelligent, chic, a pretty redhead—made it thrilling in a different way. And it was to see the brilliant Ivy, his Institute mate and John’s boyhood pal. […]

The new song was I Saw Her Standing There, though it had no title as yet. Its melody and structure skidded into Paul’s head late on Monday as he drove back from a Nems Enterprises Showdance in Widness. This was a sophistication of delivery had never experienced, inspiration so excitingly hot that when he got to Hurricaneville he grabbed an acoustic guitar and started working it out. […] It was truly a magical moment for Rory Storm, who’d never seen anyone write a song before. Vi and Iris would always maintain that he asked Paul if he could have it, exclusively, and Paul said yes—but as Rory didn’t have a record contract it’s unclear why he asked and Paul may have said yes only to regain some necessary peace and quiet.

Celia: ‘We had an amazing time, just wandering the streets in the sunshine, looking at London, holding hands and having fun, and Paul had the melody of what became I Saw Her Standing There going round his head all day, humming and singing it and fleshing out the words. […] He said, ‘What rhymes with “We danced through the night?” and I came up with ‘We held each other tight’, which was really quite naff, but he used it.’ BACK TO McCARTNEY-LENNON

However, the song was completed only when he had a front parlour session with John at 20Forthlin Road. They tried out little bits on Jim Macs Nems piano but mostly used guitars, working ‘eyeball to eyeball’ just like when they’d first written together here as schoolboys. Mike took photographs of them sitting by the little tiled fireplace—important historic images, the only such photos ever taken—so here we see these two sharp ambitious tuned-in young man looking down at an old Liverpool Institute exercise book in which Paul has written the words, complete with plenty of crossings-out. John is wearing his black horn-rim glasses and playing his Jumbo Gibson, Paul is playing a cheap Spanish acoustic of unknown history. Another original, a McCartney-Lennon one, is taking shape right here, right now. BIG PLAYER CELIA AND THE OTHER McCARTNEY BOY

Celia Mortimer’s relationship with Paul ended in the last weeks of 1962. ‘As the Beatles spent more time in London, Paul was there and not in Liverpool so much, and our situation just fizzled out. There was no time for it.’ She went on to become a big player on the London fashion scene, with her own label and studio on Great Portland Street, just a long from where she spent a few hours with Paul in 1962. In between times, she went out for a long time with Mike McCartney and was part of the Liverpool poetry scene.

Mike (a Ladies’ hairdresser at the time): MY FIRST LOVE AND BOB 'FOLK RUBBISH' DYLAN (from The Macs, 1981)

One day my first real love, after mum, walked into the salon; she was one of a group of models posing for the Daily Post and Echo. I was brushing up the hair as it cascaded endlessly down on to the floor. I wasn't exactly the brushing up which excited her, it was the way I did it (isn't it always?). The brush was balanced, she later recalled, on the end of my index finger, the furthest point from my body and, with absolute disdain, I followed it across the shop floor.

Not being a Post and Echo model at all, but in truth a hungry student plying her body for money, she returned for the free evening classes where she became my model, and I discovered that her name was Celia. From a model customer she became a model model, and from a model model we became a model couple.

She was the first woman I gave myself to, and she gave herself in return. In her Husky Street flat we got lost in each other's body and mind; we swam together through many Liverpool 8 late nights and often into the morning, when she would get up to cook breakfast and put on records. I would just lie there, male chauv-like. One morning she kept playing a particular album which didn't impress me.

'Who's that Ceel?'

'Someone they keep playing at college . . . Bob Dylan.'

'Never heard of him.'

'Neither had I, but after a while he's quite good.'

"Ceel—my first real love (after Mum)." Photo by Mike McCartney.

[greensparty]

Movie Reviews: The YouTube Effect / Desperate Souls, Dark City and the Legend of Midnight Cowboy / Mission: Impossible - Dead Reckoning Part One

This week I got to review a wide spectrum of cinema:

The YouTube Effect

Let’s talk about what an impressive director Alex Winter has become! Yes, the actor known for The Lost Boys and the Bill & Ted movies, has made a lot of noteworthy work. As far back as the late 80s he directed some music videos for artists like Red Hot Chili Peppers, Ice Cube and Extreme. I really enjoyed his 1991 sketch comedy show The Idiot Box when it was on MTV. His 2012 documentary on Napster Downloaded was a deep dive into the file sharing site’s brief but historic run. His 2020 doc Showbiz Kids looked at the ups and downs for various former child actors (read my soundtrack review here). But it was his Frank Zappa doc Zappa, with access to Zappa’s archives, that truly got the attention or critics and Zappa fans (read my review here). Now he has turned his attention to possibly the biggest website on the planet with The YouTube Effect.

movie poster

Prior to 2005 there had been some websites for sharing videos to stream, but the technology wasn’t quite there yet, it was usually buffering and stopping/starting. So three employees of PayPal founded YouTube in 2005. The doc tracks the site’s rise and it looks at various issues that have happened as a direct result of the site, notably the spread of misinformation and how crimes are being live-streamed by criminals. Like everyone, I use YouTube to watch videos and search for things I’m looking for, but the tool can be used for bad in the wrong hands. Unlike Downloaded, Winter didn’t have the advantage of hindsight to look at Napster and say this is what it lead to and influenced. Here he is presenting a ton of problems, but we’re still in the thick of it and we don’t have hindsight just yet. I think maybe some sort of resolve would’ve been more satisfying for the viewer. Having said that, he looked at the platform from a lot of different angles and used a great deal of subjects for insight. I think it’d be cool to watch this one on YouTube just to send a message!

For info on The YouTube Effect: https://www.yteffect.com/

3 out of 5 stars

Desperate Souls, Dark City and the Legend of Midnight Cowboy

It is impossible to overstate how revolutionary the 1969 movie Midnight Cowboy was. The 1960s were one of the most transitional decades ever and to end the decade with an X-rated movie about the friendship between a male prostitute (Jon Voight) and a con man (Dustin Hoffman) and it actually won the Academy Award for Best Picture (the only X-rated film to ever do so) was like the counterculture took over the mainstream for one brief shining moment. The film was a buddy movie about these two unlikely characters who form a bond in the gritty streets of NYC and it was held together by Harry Nilsson’s freewheelin’ country-folk soundtrack. There is so much to unpack within the film itself and sadly screenwriter Waldo Salt died in 1987 and director John Schlesinger died in 2003. But in the new documentary Desperate Souls, Dark City and the Legend of Midnight Cowboy, there’s loads of cast members, experts and relatives of the creators to contextualize.

movie poster

Director Nancy Buirski did the great doc By Sidney Lumet about the late great director Sidney Lumet. Here she dives deep and even deeper into the legend of Midnight Cowboy. The doc is not so much about the making-of (although there are some anecdotes) as it is analysis of the film and how it changed the culture. The movie Midnight Cowboy addressed males in addition to females hiring a male prostitute, which was something that was rarely addressed in mainstream cinema at that time. It opened doors for LGBTQ characters and storylines in film thereafter. The doc also gets into how it was rated X at the time of its release and how it would be different today. The MPAA ratings were only formed a year earlier and the homosexual subject matter garnered the X rating. It later got an R rating for it’s 1971 reissue. Today this would not be an X and, in fact, an edited version of it was later broadcast on television. There are also various other anecdotes about Salt and Schlesinger. The doc is analytic and at times almost academic, but the real thing this doc did for me was making me want to go back and re-watch Midnight Cowboy and marvel at it’s powerhouse performances!

For info on DSDCATLOMC: https://zeitgeistfilms.com/film/desperate-souls-dark-city-and-the-legend-of-midnight-cowboy

3.5 out of 5 stars

Mission: Impossible - Dead Reckoning Part One

Based on the 1966-1973 spy TV series, the Mission: Impossible movies have actually gotten better. It’s rare that a series gets better after that many films. The first film kicked off in 1996 with Brian De Palma directing. The plot was a little hard to follow but it had some epic action sequences. As the lead spy Ethan Hunt, Tom Cruise has always been trying to one up the last film. 2 was directed by my boy John Woo and had some killer action, but like a lot of these movies the director stays in their lane as they fit into a series. III from JJ Abrams had a tremendous villain with Philip Seymour Hoffman (even cooler that two of the stars of Magnolia were driving the film). Then in the next few films it actually got better and better. Christopher McQuarrie, a gifted writer turned director, brought his story skills to the series. 2018’s Fallout was the best one until now. Who can forget that final action scene of Ethan defusing the bomb? Now McQuarrie is back to Mission: Impossible - Dead Reckoning: Part One, which opens this week. I’m going to try my best to describe this movie without spoilers. Ethan has to retrieve the other half of a secret key. There is also a mysterious AI web known as The Entity. Ethan has a new frenemy in Grace, a professional thief. That’s about all I can say without giving more away.

movie poster

Last year’s Tom Cruise vehicle Top Gun: Maverick was co-written by McQuarrie and it was that very rare sequel that exceeded the original. It was a loving tribute to the original but the action and story was even better than the original. This new MI movie is the best one yet. I recommend seeing this in the best projection and sound system possible. Instead of most MI movies where there’s 2 or 3 action set pieces you remember there were countless ones here and it’s just one after another. Again I can’t say much more without spoilers but it’s worth seeing. There’s a Part One in the title so you know the story is going to continue with Part Two due in 2024. Tough act to follow.

For info on Mission: Impossible - Dead Reckoning: Part One: https://www.missionimpossible.com/ 

4 out of 5 stars

[outerbankspreferences]

Into the Unknown - Sarah Cameron

Request:  Can you please do a sarah x fem reader were reader is a pogue and they are oposites. Like the reader dresses more sweat shirts and mom jeans. And they are kinda rivals because she’s a pogue but they spend a day together and realize they have feelings for each other. Could you also add in somthing bout not really knowing if reader really like girls but descoverse she’s bi after talking with Sarah (sorry Ik this is vv specific but I’m feeling some sorta way towards sarah so yea)

MASTERLIST

WORD COUNT: 1531

A/N: I hope I portrayed this the way you wanted!

You hated the thought tog going to the Kook academy, but when you got offered a scholarship your parents didn’t want you to give it up. You were an amazing artist, and your art teacher at your old school had helped you get the scholarship. You didn’t come from much. Both of your parents worked fulltime to help support you and your siblings. At first you didn’t want to go because you didn’t want to leave your friends. The Pouges were the closest thing to family you had.

 You only agreed because Kie went there, and said she finally wanted to have some friends. She had a falling out with Sarah Cameron the year prior. “Come on Y/N, it won’t be that bad. You can hang out with me. At least you’ll know someone.” Kie said sitting around the fire. “Oh yeah, hang out with the one who was no friends. Probably not a smart move.” JJ spoke up. Kie slapped him on the arm, “it’s the Kook princess’ fault I don’t have any friends. She told everyone I called the cops on her party.”

 “But you did call the cops on her party. I was with you when you did it.” John B interrupted her. “Okay who’s side are you on? She invited everyone in the school but me. The bitch got what she deserved.” Kie snapped at him. It was an unspoken agreement that none of you liked Sarah after what she did to Kie. They were best friends in grade 9 and then Sarah threw a party and didn’t invite Kie, so she got the party busted. You can still remember her calling you all the time crying, you felt so bad because there was nothing you could do to help her.

 “I plan on keeping my head down until graduation, I don’t want to meet anyone. I’ve got all the friends I need with you guys.” You said leaning back in your chair, watching the fire. “Probably a good idea.” Pope said to you, he knew how nervous you were for this.

 It was finally your first day at the Kook academy. You and Kie shared a room but didn’t have any classes together. She had showed the day before where all your classes were so you wouldn’t get lost, but this place was huge. You had been looking for you AP Art History, when you bumped into someone, “I am so sorry, I wasn’t looking”- You cut yourself when you saw who it was, Sarah Cameron.

 “It’s okay, you’re Y/N, right? I think I’ve seen you at the boneyard a couple of times.” She said smiling. You didn’t really know why but she made you nervous. It was something you’d never felt before. All sudden you had not idea what to say to her. You realized she was waiting for an answer.

 “Uh, yeah that’s right. I’ve seen you there before too.” You confirmed, looking back down at your schedule. ‘don’t talk to her Y/N.’ you thought to yourself.

 “What class are you trying to find. I couldn’t find my way around this place for like a month.” She said grabbing the schedule out of your hand. “Oh, AP Art History, I’m in that class too, follow me.” She said leading you the way to the class.

 She was still looking over your schedule, “it looks like we have a lot of classes together, we should hang out I’ll help you find your way around. Who’s your roommate?” She asked walking fast through the halls, you were struggling to keep up. “Uh Kiara, and I’m sure I could find time to hang out.” You said trying to avoid the topic, Kie would kill you if you hung out with her. You guys made it to class right before the bell rang. “Kie would probably kill you for hanging out with me, it’ll be our little secret.” She said winking at you, and your heart flutter.

 This kept up for weeks, always hanging out, you learned a lot about Sarah. She was an artist too, and you guys spent a lot of timing drawing each other. You would catch yourself sketching her when she wasn’t around, simply drawing her silhouette.

 You’d never felt this way about another girl before. You always assumed that you were into boys, but maybe you were wrong. You and Kiara had gone down to the meal hall to eat supper, a normal night for the two of you. You hadn’t really been paying attention to what Kiara had been talking about, more focused on looking at Sarah. She seemed so confident with her friends, like she was on top of the world.

 “Y/N? Earth to Y/N.” Kie said waving a hand in your face, pulling out of your own little world. “Sorry, what did you say?” You blushed hoping she didn’t realize who you were staring at. “I said, Kelce asked me out for lunch next week, do you think I should go.” She seemed annoyed you weren’t listening in the first place. “I don’t know, he didn’t really have the time of day for back home so what’s different here? I think you should be careful.” You spoke honestly. She looked at you like you had five heads. It wasn’t the answer she wanted, but you were known for speaking your mind with your friends.

 “Well, aren’t you a supportive person.” She said laughing. You felt bad for what you said, not wanting to hurt her feelings. “I’m sorry Kie, I didn’t mean to be rude.” You spoke not wanting to start an argument. “I think I’m just going to go back to the room, I’m tired from volleyball today.” She said getting up, you tried to stop her put she didn’t listen. “Smooth move L/N.” You look up to see Sarah sitting in the place Kiara was sitting.

 “What are you talking about?” You asked even though you knew she just watched the whole encounter happen. “Kie, I know it can be hard living with your friend. We’re all going to the beach tonight if you want to come.” She offered smiling at you. “I don’t know Sarah; I’m not really dressed for the beach.” You gestured to the mom jeans and sweater you wore down to supper.

 “Yeah, I didn’t really want to go to the beach anyways, let’s go down to the art room, I still have to finish my project for Mr. Willis’s’ class. You both grab some snacks and head down laughing to each other. You got your easel all set up and started working on sketch. Sarah but some soft music on in the background to break up the silence. It was the nice thing about your friendship, you didn’t need to speak, just each others company was enough.

 It made you nervous to be alone with her. You were sure her friends didn’t like you, and yours didn’t. “So how did you get into the academy Y/N? I’m not trying to be mean, but I know you’re a Pouge, I thought your parents couldn’t afford something like this.” She asked, careful about how she worded things. “Uh, I got a scholarship, my old art teacher sent some of my work in without me knowing. It was Kiara who convinced me to come. It looks better to art schools apparently. I’m going to need a lot of help if I want to leave the Outer banks.” You explained not looking up from your drawing.

You weren’t normally this open with people, but with Sarah it was just easy. You never felt judge by her, she would let you talk all your problems away and never interrupt you. “Do you want to leave? The Outer banks I mean.” She asked sounding sad you didn’t want to stay. “Yeah, it’s every Pouges dream. I think I still want to live by the ocean, just not here.” You explained. “Sometimes I wish I could just get up and leave today, you know? No explanation just packs a bag and never come back. Go from town to town working a little when I needed the money.” You said looking over at her.

 She was staring back at you. “I wish I knew that freedom. I know you guys think being a Kook we have everything we could ever want, but I would kill for your freedom. I see you guys hanging out having so much fun in the summer. Know cares if you guys are late, or what you wear, or who you with. You don’t have an image to uphold.” You could tell she was being sincere about it. “We’ll leave one day Sarah, just me, you and the open road.” You said giggling, falling in love with the idea. “Promise?” she asked laughing, “Promise.” You replied.

 When you talked to her like this, it was when you knew you loved her. Sometimes you were sad because she was dating Topper, and clearly not interested in women, but you were happy you got to spend these moments with her. Just the two of you talking. Not a Kook and a Pouge, but two friends with a mutual understanding.

TAG LIST: @drewstarkey @fttayla @lemur46 @pita0402

[willow-salix]

It’s here, Virgil’s FabFiveFeb

A nice little bit of Virg fluff for @gumnut-logic

"I think he'd like someone that has an interest in creative pursuits," Gordon mused, poking one of the boxes to tick it. 

"And someone that likes to go for walks, you know what he's like for wanting to wander and take in the scenery, maybe even snap some pictures to paint later," Scott added, touching another box to tick it. 

"More of a home body than an adventurer, he gets enough of that with work," Gordon added it to the list. "And they definitely have to believe that family is important, he can't have someone that won't understand his commitments."

"OK, next, all about him," Scott scrolled down to the next section. "His interests…"

"Classical music, obviously."

"Enjoys visiting art galleries and concerts."

"And eating out."

"Don't we all?" 

Gordon nodded at that, there was nothing they liked more than picking up some tasty food. 

"Ideal date? What's that movie he likes? The one with the lake house?" 

"Oh, I know the one you mean, with the…the…" Scott's brain failed to make the connection, romantic comedies were not his thing, that was what Virgil watched with Selene, not him. 

"Doesn't matter," Gordon assured him, brushing it aside. "He liked the date so I'm putting it down. A relaxed stroll along a lake side at sunset," he murmured to himself as he quickly typed it out. 

"That's the one," Scott nodded. "He-" 

"Allie! Have you seen Scott?" The sound of Virgil's voice floating up from the kitchen made them both jump guilty. 

"I think he's in the lounge," Alan shouted back. 

"Shit!" 

"He's coming!" 

"Quick, submit it, submit it!" Gordon smacked at the submit button, growling in frustration when a flashing red 'incomplete field' warning mocked them. 

The sound of steel capped boots thumping up stairs spurred them on. 

"Just tick anything!" Scott yelped, fingers flying as he randomly poked boxes in between Gordon whacking the submit button like it had personally offended him. 

"Yes!" Gordon sighed as the 'congratulations' sign appeared in green. "Done!" 

Scott just had time to hit the x and pull up a report before Virgil strolled his way in. 

"What are you two doing?" he asked suspiciously, stopping dead in the doorway when he was greeted by the sight of the two brothers least likely to be discussing a report seeming to be doing just that. 

"Nothing!" Gordon yelped just as Scott yelled "Reports" which was definitely upping the suspicion levels. He didn't believe them. 

"I don't believe you," Virgil told them firmly, attempting to give them the kind of 'don't lie to me' eyebrow raise that Selene or John managed to pull off but knew he had failed. Damn the fact that he was the nice one and they both knew that any and all threats he might issue would go unfulfilled. 

"You doubt me?" Scott gasped in mock outrage. "Me? Your big brother? The one that always has your back?" 

"And me, your wingman? The one that always fixes your hairdryer fuse?" 

"One time Gordon! That was one time! And it wasn't my hairdryer!" 

"I don't know, you bought it, you keep it in your bathroom and you warned us all that we couldn't borrow it on pain of death, so that evidence all points to it being your hairdryer…" 

"I won't stay here to be insulted," Virgil sniffed indignantly, "I'm gonna go find Kayo and see if she'll help me with the inlet manifold, at least she can take instructions and won't lie to me."

They watched him stomp away in a huff, breathing a sigh of relief when the sound of his boots faded into nothing. 

"Damn, that was close," Scott gulped, clicking back onto the dating website to check it had worked. His eyes widened when he looked at the screen. 

"What? What's wrong?" 

"He's got three inboxes already."

"Seriously? Already, it's been what, five minutes?" 

"Yep."

"We’re gonna be spoilt for choice."

"I guess that just means we have more chance of picking him a good one, he needs to get out more."

"He'll thank us for it in the end."

       ***

"I don't understand, why do I have to dress up?" Virgil groaned. "I'm tired, I've had a long day, why do we need to go to the mainland just to pick up pizza?" 

Gordon glanced at Scott for help. None was forthcoming. He nudged him for emphasis. 

"Fine," Scott sighed, admitting defeat. Honesty was always the best policy anyway. "We arranged a blind date for you."

"You did what?" Virgil exploded. "Why the hell would you do that?" 

"We thought you needed to get out more," Gordon shrugged. "We were trying to help."

"I don't need your help, I didn't ask for it."

"Not like you were going to meet anyone on your own, was it?" Gordon continued to needle.

"John did! So did Scott. I am perfectly capable of getting my own dates."

"John is an enigma that none of us understand and Cat's my ex, I was recycling, that doesn't count."

"Do not let her hear you say that," Gordon laughed. 

"My point still stands," Scott insisted waving away the worry about his girlfriend, "we don't have a normal job or the chance to socialise much, and unless fate decides to be nice and throw someone at you like it did for John or you have an ex hidden away somewhere, you can't use us as an example."

"You don't want to let her down, do you?" Gordon tossed in, knowing that his softie brother would feel guilty as hell if he upset anyone. "How would you feel if you got dumped before you'd even met the person?" 

Virgil wanted to argue the point some more, but honesty and his vow never to lie to himself stopped him. They did have a point, a small one, but still pointy and therefore he was unable to ignore their logic. He decided to give in, although he refused to do so gracefully or with any forgiveness of their plotting. Plus, they were right, he wouldn't want to be responsible for anyone feeling like they weren't good enough in any way, shape or form.

"Looks like I don't have much of a choice…" he started only to be interrupted by the victorious cheers of his brothers. "Do you have a picture of her?" 

"Nope," Scott grinned. "We signed you up with that new site where pictures aren't allowed, you pick based on shared interests and compatibility, not looks."

"That's…actually a nice idea," Virgil acknowledged reluctantly. He wasn't one to judge people on looks, he cared more about personality and morals. 

"See, we knew you'd approve," Gordon grinned, slapping him on the back. 

"I didn't say I approved of this-" 

"Come on, hurry up, you don't want to be late for your date!" 

   ***

Virgil waited nervously on the picnic bench, clutching the single sunflower Scott had thrust at him like it was a weapon, ready to fend off anything if his blind date turned out to be some kind of psycho.

They couldn't be too careful, they were far too used to people trying to find out details about them or to trick them in some way. No one was ever as they seemed. 

Scott had assured him that they hadn't used his real name and that no one would associate it with him but he couldn't help the little nagging doubts that gnawed away at the back of his mind. 

Plus he still hadn't forgiven them for pulling this stunt on him. Did they really think he was that bad at dating that he needed such help? He wasn't bad at dating, he got plenty of offers for a hook up, they all did. Well, not John but he was hardly ever out on rescues and Selene was common knowledge now but, to the rest of the world, him and his "single" brothers were all fair game. 

Butt gropes and comments about their hard muscles were a common occurrence, so much so that he often felt like a piece of meat being squished and tested before purchase. Another reason why he rarely managed to meet anyone that he could actually see himself wanting to date. 

Maybe their idea, while badly executed and heavy in trickery and taken liberties, hadn't come from a bad place. He'd worried the whole way to the meeting spot that they might have picked the worst candidate they could, but he firmly forced the thought out of his head. His brothers might like to indulge in mutual pranking and to push the limits sometimes but they would never do anything to hurt or embarrass someone, especially not a stranger. The thought had calmed him down enough that he hadn't had to make use of Two's on board bathroom facilities for an emergency freshen up because he'd stress sweated through the nice shirt and jacket they had forced him into. 

He'd managed to relax a little but, now that he was sitting here alone, waiting and looking out for someone he had no clue about, he was starting to worry again. 

Seeing an abandoned pen on the picnic table he snatched a few napkins from the dispenser and let his eyes roam the scenery. 

It really was a gorgeous place, something often referred to as a little slice of heaven in the city. The urban park, man made in the center of the mass of concrete and steel, sported a carefully constructed lake that was home to a teeming ecosystem of endangered species that exhaustive conservation efforts had made possible. 

The sun was just beginning to lower towards the horizon, painting the sky and the surface of the lake with the most beautiful colours. Virgil's fingers itched to paint them but he settled for snapping a couple of pictures on his phone. 

Trees of all types surrounded the lake, creating an attractive backdrop to the whole scene and before he even realised he was doing it he was deep in concentration as he sketched the lake area on the napkin. 

The process was calming, helping to soothe his nerves and slow his thumping heart, allowing him to stop and breathe for a second, helping him to resist the urge to cut and run. 

"Are you Virgil Grant? You have a sunflower." 

The voice behind him made him jump and drop his pen. 

"Yes, yes I am," he admitted as he turned around to face his date. 

      ***

"So, how did it go?" Scott asked when they arrived to pick Virgil up, less than half an hour after he'd text for a ride. "Did you have a good time?" 

"I had a great time," Virgil smiled. 

"You were gone a long time," Gordon grinned, nudging his older brother playfully with his elbow. "Did you go back to her place or something?" 

"Yeah, we did."

"You did? You dog you!" Gordon leered with an exaggerated wink. Virgil just smiled, taking the teasing with his usual good grace. 

"You gonna see her again?" Scott asked, pleased that their plan seemed to have gone so well. 

Virgil nodded. "I told her I'd drop in as soon as I'm free."

"Come on, give us all the juicy details, tell us all about, Emma, wasn't it?" Gordon pushed, desperate for gossip. 

"Nothing much to tell," Virgil shrugged. "She's sweet, we had a nice time hanging out, she gave me her number."

"That's it? That's all you can tell us?" Gordon groaned, disappointment evident in his voice. 

"No, that's all I'm going to tell you," Virgil corrected. "You've interfered in my private life enough already, thank you."

"Oh, come on, Virg," Scott pleaded. But the big guy wouldn't budge, staying smugly silent the entire journey home. 

Gordon and Scott had given up by the time they eased the little jet back into the hangar, going off to do their own thing, hopefully to remove his dating profile, leaving Virgil alone. 

Selene and John were cuddled up together on one of the couches, watching something on the holoscreen when he made his way into the lounge. 

He hadn't meant to disturb them, especially when they were actually getting some time alone for once, and was about to make his excuses but Selene had other ideas. She patted the couch beside her, shifting over to make room for him. 

He accepted the offer, sitting down and getting comfortable. He didn't know what they were watching, possibly some kind of documentary. 

"Cookie?" he offered, pulling a baggie of what looked to be pretty decent cookies out of his jacket pocket. 

Selene glanced up from the screen, looking first at the bag of cookies and then at Virgil, her eyes widening in surprise. 

"You're all dressed up."

This got John's attention as he reached for a cookie. "Have you been somewhere?" 

Selene selected a cookie and took a big bite. "Oh, damn, these are so good, where did you get them?" 

"My date made them for me," Virgil grinned, consuming almost half a cookie in one bite. 

"Wait, wait, back up, date?" Selene actually paused the documentary, something about William Shakespeare by the looks of it. 

"You had a date? That wasn't on the calendar?" John frowned. "Were they cleared by security?" 

"The romance is strong in this family," Selene drawled, rolling her eyes. 

"Scott and Gordon decided that signing me up to dating sites is their new hobby," Virgil sighed. 

"They arrange the date? What were they like? Did you have a good time? Witchy needs details," Selene gently shoved John's face away from her as he chewed loudly in her ear and leant closer to Virgil.

"We actually had a nice time. Emma, my date, is a local, lived there all her life. She's been a bit lonely so her friend set her up on the site. We wandered around a lake for a bit and then we went back to her place."

"Awww, so romantic," Selene sighed dreamily before mock glaring at her husband. "Why don't you take me on dates any more?" 

"Because we only got back off our honeymoon a few weeks ago and we live on an island?" 

"No excuse."

"Dinner on the mainland next week?" 

"Thought you'd never ask," she stole a quick kiss as he rolled his eyes in defeat. "Got any pictures?" 

"Of the restaurant? Are you needing to inspect my reservation making skills now?" 

"I was talking to Virgil."

"Oh, then carry on."

"Virg, pictures?" 

"I did take one, yes," he pulled out his phone, scrolled through for a couple of seconds then turned the phone to show them the screen. "I took a selfie of us at the lake." 

Selene and John blinked, unsure if they were seeing the right picture. 

"Erm… not to be a judgey judgerson or anything but…" Selene trailed off. 

"But she has to be older than Grandma," John finished for her, blunt and to the point as always.

They both looked at the picture again, showing a goofily grinning Virgil next to a sweet older lady, her blue rinsed hair set in a helmet of curls, her half moon glasses perched on her nose. 

"Again, not with the judging, you do you, but does she have to watch her heart? She needs to be careful if she's going out picking up handsome young men."

"Stop, please stop," Virgil groaned. "She didn't know how old I was. Gordon and Scott set it up and apparently they somehow, and I choose to believe it was unintentional, managed to upload my profile to the over 60s side."

"And you didn't correct her?" John had to ask. He knew his brother was the nice one of the family but that was a little ridiculous. 

"Of course I did, but we were there and she hadn't been out in a few weeks. Her grandson moved away for work and her husband died a few years ago so I bought her dinner and we had a nice walk around the park. She wasn't actually looking for a romantic date, she just wanted a companion, someone to chat to, go for a walk with and maybe see an exhibition or two. Her friend at the widows club set it up for her."

"So you were both set up by others?" 

"Yep. She's a really nice lady."

"And that walk around the park turned into cookies at her place?" John's fingers snuck into the bag again to take another. 

"And banana bread. She mentioned that she was going to hire a handyman to fix her sink because her daughter was too busy and she didn't have any help now."

"Ahhh," Selene could see exactly where this was going. 

"And so I offered to unblock her sink for her."

"Of course you did," John sighed, hiding his smile against Selene's shoulder. 

"And while I was there I put up some new shelves for her and took her trash cans out to the kerb and retuned her TV. She made me cookies to say thank you."

"She sounds lovely," Selene cooed, already in love with the thought of her. She could take or leave it when it came to little kids, usually leave if she was being honest, but she was a complete suckee when it came to the elderly. 

"She is, smart too. I complimented some of the paintings she had on her walls and she told me she'd painted them, her and her husband met at art school and used to go on vacation to different countries to visit galleries and take classes. I showed her a few pictures of some of my pieces and it turned out she'd seen one of mine in a gallery in New York, you know that one of the Sphinx I did from that picture I took after that rescue?"

"Do I take it that our darling brothers don't know any of this?" 

"Nope," Virgil grinned. "I'm letting them stay curious, they asked me all sorts of questions on the way back but I stayed quiet. I'll tell them eventually, once all the cookies are gone." He picked another out of the rapidly depleting stash. 

"I have never heard a more Virgil story in my entire life," Selene laughed, shaking her head. "So when are you seeing her again?" 

"Gonna try and visit next week to mow her lawn," Virgil admitted, looking somewhat sheepish. 

"Hey, no," Selene grabbed his hand, squeezing it tight. "No looking embarrassed. You're amazing, it's a totally you thing to go on a date, not get what you were expecting and still come away with an old lady best friend and having had a great time. That's one of the many reasons I love you, because you're just so you."

"She's right," John added, patting his brother's shoulder. "One thing I've learnt the last few years is that you shouldn't make excuses for who you are or try to change. Don't belittle the fact that you have probably made her happier than she has been in months just by giving her some time and treating her with respect. Don't undervalue that."

"Yeah," Virgil acknowledged. "I know I did the right thing, it doesn't hurt to help someone and I had fun too." 

"And that's all that matters," Selene said, patting his hand one last time before she let it go. 

"Yep," he smiled, settling back against the cushions, munching on his cookie, his cheeks bulging like a hamster's, muffling his words. "That and the fact that her granddaughter is a nurse and she's going to introduce us next month."

[haderberkman]

I’m Available

Bill Hader X F Reader

Warnings: Language

Part 2 Part 3

Requested by: @ghoulsonline

Y/N was the newest cast member at SNL. It was her first day, and she was super nervous. She was sitting in Lorne’s office with all the other cast members, writers, and this week’s host. Lorne was calling on people to share ideas for sketches, and she prayed that he wouldn’t call on her.

Luckily, she survived without being called on, and Lorne dismissed everyone to begin writing possible sketches for the show. Y/N walked around the main common area not knowing exactly what to do.

She looked around and saw everyone getting together to come up with ideas. She was too nervous to actually walk up to someone so she just stood there awkwardly. She dismissed her thoughts as she heard someone speak to her.

“Hey, Y/N. Are you okay? You look a little lost.”

“Oh, h-hey, Bill. I’m okay, I guess. I’m just nervous, and I have no idea who to ask if they want to write with me.”

“Well, I’m available. You can write with me.”

“A-Are you sure you wanna write with me. I mean I’m new, and I’m probably not that good.”

Bill walked closer to Y/N and put his arm around her shoulders, leading them away from the common area.

“Come on. It’ll be fun.”

Bill lead them to an office and opened the door. Y/N followed him in and saw someone sitting at a computer.

“Hey, John. Guess what?”

“What now, Bill?”

“I found us a new writing partner.”

Bill stepped to the side, and John smiled at how awkward Y/N looked, standing in the office. Her nerves were eating her alive.

“Jesus, Y/N. You do not look okay. Are the first day nerves getting to you?”

“H-Hey, John. Yeah, I like I might throw up or something.”

“You want a cigarette to calm your nerves?”

Bill laughed at John’s question, and Y/N felt her nerves ease off a bit. Bill put a hand on her shoulder and lead her to the couch in the office, sitting down.

“No, I think I’ll be okay without one.”

“She just started working here, John. Don’t get her addicted to nicotine straight out of the gate.”

“I think it’s too late for that.”

All three of them started laughing at Y/N’s comment. Once their laughter calmed down, they say in awkward silence before John spoke up.

“So, do either of you have any ideas?”

Bill shook his head no, and Y/N started to fidget with her fingers, speaking quietly.

“I might have an idea.”

Bill and John shared a look and turned their attention to Y/N.

“We’re listening.”

“It’s probably not good.”

Bill turned towards Y/N slightly and placed a hand on her thigh, close to her knee, causing her to look at him.

“We’ll never know your idea unless you tell us, and who knows, it may become a reappearing bit if it’s really good. So, come on. Tell us.”

“Bill’s right Y/N.”

Y/N moved her eyes from Bill to John, who wore a reassuring smile on his face. She took a deep breath, trying to swallow her nerves.

“Well, the idea is that there’s a guy who is suppose to a job, but he’s afraid on the job. For example, he’s a lion tamer, but he’s afraid of lions or something like that.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea. We can take it and turn it into something hilarious. We can use the lion tamer idea.”

“And I was thinking we could dress Bobby up as the lion.”

They started laughing and writing down ideas for the sketch. Three hours and nine cups of coffee later, they finally had the full sketch written. John got up and went to the main printer in the common area to print copies of the sketch, leaving Bill and Y/N alone.

Bill downed the rest of his coffee and flopped down on the couch with his head landing in Y/N’s lap. She laughed and began running her fingers through his shaggy hair.

“Thanks for writing with me tonight.”

“It’s not a problem at all. John and I couldn’t come up with shit. We were losing our minds, and I saw just standing there. So, I figured that the three of could have came up with something, and we did. You’re really funny, Y/N.”

“I’m not that funny. You and John were the ones coming up with the jokes and punch lines.”

Bill sat up suddenly and placed his hands on her cheeks. She stared into his eyes as he stared back.

“You are funny, Y/N. At your audition, they had to kick me out because I was laughing so hard.”

“I remember. I was there.”

“Well for what it’s worth, I think you’re funny and nothing will change my mind.”

Y/N wrapped her arms around Bill and pulled him into a tight hug. They pulled away when the door to the office opened. John sat back down in his office chair, and Bill stayed siting close to Y/N.

“Alright, so I got the sketch turned it. Let’s see if we can come up with other ideas.”

“Well, let’s get to work.”

Bill smiled at Y/N and she smiled back. Bill and John started coming up with more ideas, and Y/N watched as they played off of each other. She knew they made a great writing time. She couldn’t wait to write more sketches with them, and maybe for something to blossom between her and Bill. She just had to wait and see.

[profoundnet]

PROFOUND MEMBER MASTERPOST FOR SEPTEMBER 2020!

Featuring Destiel/Gen works by @friendofcarlotta, @nickelkeep, @castielslostwings, @haybibiboi, youfoundmykeys, @goldenraeofsun, @aishitara, @vaudelin, @one-more-offbeat-anthem, @shealynn88, Feathers7501, @sketching-fox, @mittensmorgul, @andimeantittosting, sapphirecobalt, shadowkat83, @maleyah-givemetomorrow, Endellion, ArielAquarial, @allmystars-i, @darcydelaney!

Join us on Discord!

Masterpost below the cut.

FriendofCarlotta - @friendofcarlotta - FriendofCarlotta

The Heroes’ Journey (E, 36k)

When you perform a spell to defeat God himself, there’s bound to be side effects — such as every version of Team Free Will getting zapped to an alternate universe. The former residents of the Endverse find themselves in an underground bunker full of the kinds of food they haven’t seen in years and clothes that magically fit them. As Dean adjusts to life in a world where Croatoan never got out of control, he faces some tough questions: Can he forgive Sam for saying yes to Lucifer? And is his relationship with Cas really beyond saving? The residents of the bunker, meanwhile, wake up as employees of HunterCorp, whose CEO is one John Winchester. Being around people Dean lost years ago is no picnic, and it’s changing the dynamic of his relationship with Cas in ways he never expected. But is the change meant to last, or will they fall back into old patterns when they return to their own universe?

Tags: Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Case Fic, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sharing a Bed, Slow Dancing, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Recovery From Drug Addiction

Home (G, 2.2k)

This is the story of a car, and the boy who loves it so fiercely, it becomes a home. As the boy grows into a man, his car is the one constant in his life. Until, one day, he meets an angel, and "home" takes on a new meaning.

Tags: Canon Compliant, POV Impala, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Fluff, Kid Fic, Castiel and Dean Winchester Are Great Dads

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nickelkeep - @nickelkeep - nickelkeep

Huckleberry, Cherry, or Lime (E, 5.7k)

Two men. Two Identical injuries. For Dean and Cas, is that where the similarities start or end?

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Misunderstandings, Fluff and Smut and Humor, No Angst, Minor Injuries, Stitches, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Castiel, Hurt/Comfort

Text Me in the Morning (T, 2.7k)

"Just blowing off steam?" Sam glared at Dean. "So, you haven't been honest with him, or you haven't been honest with yourself?" "Excuse me?" Dean set his mug on the table and crossed his arms, staring at Sam. "It means that you're in love with Cas, and won't admit it. Figures my brother is a coward."

Tags: Canon Compliant, Established Castiel/Dean, Secret Relationship, Long-Suffering Sam, Sam is a Little Shit, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean, Misunderstandings, Texting, Castiel and Dean Need to Use Their Words

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castielslostwings - @castielslostwings - Castielslostwings

After the End (E, 27k)

In 2014, Dean Winchester led a raid on the asylum in Detroit where a Sam-wearing-Lucifer was waiting for him. Everyone knows what happened next: the Chitaquan soldiers who accompanied Dean died horribly at the hands of Lucifer’s minions while Lucifer murdered Dean in the garden below and warned the Dean from days past that no matter what he tried, he would always end up there. There were no survivors. Or were there? This story picks up where “The End” leaves off, from Castiel’s perspective from inside the asylum, a twist of fate, and conditional divine intervention no one saw coming. It details what happens after Lucifer dies, Dean lives, and the world doesn’t actually stop turning. A canon-compliant “fix-it” fic for the Endverse and a Dean and Cas who deserved better. Or: "The End" was not the End. This is the story of what came after.

Tags: Endverse fix-it, Happy endverse, temp MCD (dean's canon death in the rose garden), low-angst, canon-compliant (I swear, this is a happy fix-it), explicit sex, s15 tie-ins.

Wait For It (E, 44k)

With Chuck out of the picture and Jack stepping up as the New God, Team Free Will suddenly has to face the most difficult mission they've ever tackled: moving on. Change is tough, that's a given. What's not new? Dean's coping mechanisms being the absolute worst. Problem is, this time, his stubborn refusal to leave the past where it belongs lands him in hot water that's so deep, even Castiel may not be able to pull him out in time. An epic post-canon love story about a hunter who can't seem to look forward and an ex-angel who is done looking back.

Tags: Post-canon, Alternate ending to Season 15, illustrated, getting together, love confessions, hurt/comfort, kidnapped Dean, BAMF Castiel, explicit sex, very happy ending. Accompanied by art by @ladyrandombox.

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lovemuppet - @haybibiboi - lovemuppet

“How Do You Like Them Apples?”: A Co-Pearenting Fic. (T, 1.4k)

based on a prompt by Cryptomoon: "Neighboring long time orchard owners, Dean of Winchester Family Apples and Cas of Eden Farms have been bitter rivals their whole lives. Eden Farms grows pears and Dean thinks that's absolutely stupid because it's Eden, they should grow apples. But that's beside the point. They've hated each other since they could walk. Now they each have taken over their family's farms and do their best to civilly ignore one another. Until! Some trees on the edge of their properties spontaneously cross breed and they are forced to figure out what to do with these co-parented Pearapples. Applepears?"

Tags: Enemies to lovers, au where pears and apples are the same genus, affronts to god and science, jokes? about homicide.

“The Only Rest You’ll See For Hours” (G, 441 words)

Prompt by saltnhalo: 30 minute speed writing based on knightiesart sky doodles. (I used the two desert looking ones)

Tags: post series band aid, no one dies, everything's fine

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youfoundmykeys - reafre

grip (SFW)

“You’re the one who gripped me tight, and brought me back to light...” art by reafre date: 18-23 September, 2020 tools: pencil, watercolour, pearl watercolour on paper.  

Tags: video, hands, soft, anniversary

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goldenraeofsun - @goldenraeofsun - goldenraeofsun

Ridin’ the Quarantine Out (E, 8.5k)

“Like I said,” Dean says, chuckling, “no one’s ever died from blue balls. So you can't go out there and break quarantine to bang some rando.” Cas doesn’t find this funny in the slightest. “No human has died,” he clarifies. “What the hell are you talking about?” Dean narrows his eyes. “If you think some weird fact about guinea pigs is gonna sway-” “I’m an incubus,” Cas interrupts. “I will literally die if I don’t feed.”

Tags: They were quarantined, incubus!cas, virgin!cas, first time, top!cas, bottom!dean, dom sub undertones, mentions of COVID-19, mutual pining

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aishitara - @aishitara - aishitara

K-I-S-S-I-N-G (M, 3.9k)

Sam’s been breathing down his neck about every little thing lately. He eats too much bacon. Drinks too much beer. Drives too fast. Avoids Cas like his life depends on it. Dean huffs out a breath. Sam hasn’t actually called him on /that/ part, but if the conversation they’d had a few days ago about… that time Castiel was dead was anything to go by, he was certain his brother was going to corner him any second now and point out how Dean had been doing such a good job of hiding from him and Cas. He wasn’t… he wasn’t hiding, okay? He just… happened to be anywhere at all in the bunker that Cas wasn’t. Not on purpose. Just. Because. Of reasons.

Tags: Fluff, a wee touch of the angst, Sam Ships It, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Sort Of, Feelings, Dean just doesn't want to talk about it ok

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vaudelin - @vaudelin - vaudelin

a world well done (M, 54k)

After five years of being overlooked for the job title of his dreams, Dean has grown accustomed to his fair share of disappointment. But the guy who got the position, a nepotistic hire named Castiel Novak, is really pushing the boundaries of his patience. Too bad the guy’s a dud, but the legacy project has survived worse. Castiel can be as antisocial as he wants and hide out in his office all he likes; Dean will just batten down the hatches and ensure his team weathers the storm coming their way.

Tags: AU - Modern Setting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Misunderstandings & Miscommunications, Slow Build

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one_more_offbeat_anthem - @one-more-offbeat-anthem - one_more_offbeat_anthem

Roll With It, Baby (T, 13k)

August 1987. Indianapolis, Indiana. The Pan-American Games are back again, and professional roller skaters Castiel Milton and Dean Winchester are supposed to be teammates--and friends. Over their six years on the US team, they’ve done their best to get along, but with Cas as a roller figure skater and Dean as a roller hockey player, they sometimes miss the mark. But something’s different this year, at their second Pan-American Games. Maybe it’s the sultry end-of-summer heat over the main stadium at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. Maybe it’s the competition. Maybe it’s Rick Astley's recent hit single "Never Gonna Give You Up." Whatever it is, the next two weeks are going to change things…potentially forever.

Tags: 1980s, the mixtape, professional roller skating, friends to lovers, mutual pining, first kiss, mild homophobia

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shealynn88 - @shealynn88 - shealynn88

The Light Will Guide You Home (E, 4.6k)

Dean is visiting his long-distance friend for the first time. He knows what he wants, but does Cas feel the same? Dean laughs. “Cas, is that you? Can I…?” He reaches out for a hug, then draws back in embarrassment. The human-like form throws him off, but he knows it’s impolite to initiate physical contact with a Luminate, he’s studied the culture for over a decade.

Tags: consentacles, sci-fi AU, alien!Cas, human!Dean

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Feathers7501 - Feathers7501

Dreams of Blue (G, 1.1k)

Dean is leading his best life... or is he?

Tags: memory wipe

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sketching-fox - @sketching-fox

Along My Restless Palms (NSFW)

Comission done for Kat, the first of my bidders on @ficfacers 2020! Her request was to illustrate this specifc scene (where Dean dreams about Castiel in the Highlands - YES, they are wearing kilts) in the Fic Along My Restless Palms!

Tags: highlands, kilts

Caring for the wings (SFW)

Comission for Jennifer, one of winner bidders on @ficfacers 2020! Her request was the fluffiest thing ever: Chibi versions of Dean and Castiel, and Dean taking care of Cas´s wings, with the feathers all fluffy, like those little dogs after a bath and air drier on the Pet Shop.

Tags: chibi art, wings

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mittensmorgul - @mittensmorgul - MittenWraith

Happy Resurrection Day (T, 3.7k)

The world didn't end, and Dean and Cas finally get to choose each other. It only took twelve years and a little road trip back to where it all started.

Tags: post canon, road trips, getting together, first kiss, anniversary

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andimeantittosting - @andimeantittosting - andimeantittosting

A Gentleman’s Inheritance (M, 11k)

For the Supernatural Regency Bang. Castiel Shurley has always done his duty by his family. When his father dies, Castiel inherits not only the title of Viscount, but also deep debts. At his aristocratic mother's behest, he agrees to court Miss Celeste "Charlie" Middleton—a wealthy heiress, but the daughter of cits. Though they are not in love—and though he secretly has feelings for her cousin, the charming Dean Winchester—Castiel and Charlie soon agree to wed. But Castiel's life is upended by the arrival of his scandalous Aunt Amara, who reveals that he is not the son of Charles and Naomi, but illegitimate, taken from his unwed mother to serve as Charles’s heir. When she carries out her threat to reveal the truth to the world, Castiel loses his title, his home, and his place in the world. Feeling honour-bound to break off his engagement, he finds himself invited to stay instead, as a member of Dean and Charlie's unconventional household, and learns the meaning of freedom.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Regency, Disinherited Castiel, Forced Adoption

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sapphirecobalt - sapphirecobalt

The Bee Knocker Story (M, 7.2k)

Dean recalls the infamous bee knocker that started it all. Or, the one where Cas is upset and Dean goes to great lengths to cheer him up.

Tags: Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Domestic fluff, emotional hurt comfort, Artist Dean, gardens and gardening

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shadowkat83 - Shadowkat83

Sober (G, 605 words)

Dean leans against a tree trying to come to terms with what he is seeing and feeling. How did everything end up like this? Lyrics Sober by Bad Wolves

Tags: Endverse, Songfic, angst, implied relationships

~

Maleyah (Katherine_Kat) - @maleyah-givemetomorrow - Maleyah

Hot Wings Cas (SFW)

Yoga teacher Castiel for my fic Hot Wings and Magic Hands

Tags: yoga teacher cas, idiots in love, wing tattoos

Take A Breath (SFW)

Time for a breath and a break. The ending they deserve with Sam, Gabe, Charlie and Jody in the background (if you squint)

Tags: the end of the road, married, breathe boys, cuddles

Aceriee-art’s DTIYS (SFW)

Art for Aceriee-art's DTIYS challenge

Tags: dtiys, aceriee-art, sassy Dean, blatant use of emojis

Thank You Cas Kisses (SFW)

Cas blowing kisses at the viewer, cause thank you

Tags: thank you, cas blows a kiss, tiny bee

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Endellion - Endellion

You Make Me Want to Stay (G, 1.5k)

A teenage Dean meets a boy named Castiel at one of the many high schools he goes to and this time when his dad says it's time to move on, he doesn't want to. 

Tags: implied/referenced homophobia, AU no hunting, AU highschool

Brutus (G, 216 words)

Sam and Cas and a dog. Dean can't resist Cas' puppy dog eyes.

Tags: fluffy, cute

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ArielAquarial - ArielAquarial

The Right Kind of Motivation (E, 2k)

Alone in the house for the first time in months, Dean is having trouble finding the motivation to clean. Castiel decides it’s time to bring out the big guns, and Dean is more than willing to play along. Can be read as a standalone.

Tags: Established Relationship, Domestic, Alternate Universe, Dick Pics, Masturbation

~

allmystars - @allmystars-i - allmystars

Brownies and Blowjobs (E, 2.3k)

"It’s fucking 2020, I should be able to watch Netflix nude while making brownies without you getting preachy about it." Dean wants Castiel's attention, but he doesn't know how to ask for it, so he bakes brownies... completely naked.

Tags: Blowjobs, Handjobs, Friends With Benefits, Smut, Naked Baking, Porn Without Plot

~

darcydelaney - @darcydelaney - DarcyDelaney

Bookworm (T, 2.1k)

Cas asks Dean to spend the day reading with him at a brewery. It's not Dean's ideal date at first, but it doesn't stop him from falling in love with Cas all over again.

Tags: Brewery, Date Night, Fluff

[alex51324]

Thomas and the Island of the Gays, excerpt #3

Thomas endeavors to understand the appeal of camping.

(Content note:  Early-20th-century racial attitudes and language.  There’s a whole running theme in this episode about Mr. Braceridge (the former Scoutmaster) being a huge woodcraft nerd, and his husband, Father Timothy, constantly having to rein him in.  Unfortunately, Scouting/woodcraft culture of the time was infused what might best be described as “patronizing admiration” of Indigenous Americans.  He means well, but it is, as they say on Tumblr, problematic.  TL;DR, he talks a lot about “Red Indians,” and it should be understood that he is referring to the Indian of the white imagination.)  

***

The room was even dimmer than the parlor-slash-dining-room, until Richard lit a candle that was stuck in a bracket by the door.  Thomas was relieved to see the promised bunks, two sets stacked atop each other like the berths in a railway sleeping car.  Each berth had a striped tick—stuffed with straw, as Thomas determined when he poked one—and a stack of folded blankets, most in Army khaki.  

Thomas was undecided about whether he wanted an upper berth or a lower one, until Morrow put his pack on one of the lower berths, saying, “Wilberforce can’t climb.”  

Thomas was as fond of dogs as the next person, but he didn’t wish to be joined in the night by a wet and smelly one.  He claimed the berth above Morrow’s.  “No sheets?” he asked Richard, unfolding the blankets.

“Apparently rugged backwoodsmen don’t need them,” said Richard, starting to make up one of the lower bunks for himself.  

“Lovely.”  It could have been much worse—a trench, for example—but Thomas didn’t think he’d ever understand why anyone would subject themselves to primitive living conditions when they didn’t have to.  

When they returned to the main room, the fireplace boasted a candle-sized flame, into which Mr. Braceridge was feeding needled-sized twigs, and Father Timothy was saying, “Well, as you have that under control, I’ll just go and see to things in the cottage, shall I? Perhaps someone could put the kettle on,” he added.

Richard volunteered to do so, and Thomas, lacking any better ideas, went along to help him with the pump. Father Timothy had picked up his and Mr. Braceridge’s packs and was carrying them toward the ramshackle cottage. “They’re staying in there?” he asked. It barely looked habitable.  

Richard, working the stiff pump handle, nodded.  “I had a look inside last time I was here—it’s a bit cozier than it looks. Father Tim figures it was the gamekeeper’s cottage.”  

Thomas wasn’t sure that was much to recommend it, but didn’t argue.  The pump, at last, began to flow, and once the kettle was full, they went back inside and began the process of coaxing the Primus stove into life. Fortunately, Thomas had used something similar in the War, and this one, having been stored out of the damp, was less fiddly than some.

Over a late luncheon or early tea of cold meat and bread, the group discussed what they would do with the rest of the afternoon.  Thomas was a bit alarmed to hear Miles and James express their hopes that the rain would slow down enough to allow a little shooting, and Henry declare that he was going fishing whether the rain slowed down or not.

“Didn’t you say we’d stay inside and play cards if it rained?” Thomas asked Richard, under his breath.

“This lot seems a little keener than the ones that came last time,” Richard whispered back.  

“I’m going to stay here and read,” Morrow declared flatly, and remained firm in the face of Mr. Braceridge’s suggestions that he borrow a fishing rod, or at least walk along with the shooters.  

“John,” said Father Timothy, “he is a grown man; I daresay he can make up his own mind.”  Turning to Morrow, he added, “Only I do hope you won’t find it dull.”

“Thomas and I will stay as well, and keep him company,” Richard said brightly.  

“There, that’s settled,” Father Timothy said.  “What about you, Victor?”

“I think I’ll stick close to General Headquarters as well,” he said, stroking his beard.  “There’s plenty I can sketch from the veranda, without risking spoiling my sketchbooks.”

“In that case,” the vicar said, “I’ll show Henry where the best fishing spots are.  You’ll go with the others, won’t you?” he asked Mr. Braceridge.

“Yes, yes,” he said, then brightened.  “I’ll take my bow and arrow.  You chaps will be interested in this,” he informed Miles and James.  “I learnt the art from an American Scoutmaster, who learnt it from a Red Indian….”

He went on talking about archery and Red Indians at some length, and insisted on Miles and James learning the rudiments of what he said was the sign language used by Red Indian hunters to communicate without alerting the prey to their presence.  

As they got up from the table, Richard volunteered himself and Thomas to do the washing-up.  Once the rugged outdoorsmen had left, he explained, “Mr. Braceridge is quite keen on everyone doing his share of the camp chores. Best to keep ahead of it—lowers your chances of being stuck with something nobody wants to do.”

“I see,” Thomas said, though he privately wondered if the gentlemen in the group would really end up doing any of it.  

As they heated the washing up water, Richard also explained, “They went with the others and left us on our own because four is probably enough not to get up to any hanky-panky, but in an hour or so Father Tim will toddle back on some pretext or another to make sure we haven’t paired off.”

An hour would have been more than enough time with anyone Thomas had ever paired off with, but he only said, “Noted.”

“He isn’t terribly pleased by gambling, either,” Richard added.  “Not there’s much that makes sense to play with only two.  Last time, we had to play for matches.”  

“Those might be valuable property out here,” Thomas noted, with a glance at the fireplace.  

Richard nodded.  “We’d best make sure not to let it go out.”

The washing-up finished, they went over to the parlor area, where Morrow was already ensconced in the most comfortable-looking chair, with his book.  The mantelpiece held a small selection of indoor amusements—a worn deck of cards, a draughts board, a few books, and a fairly dire-looking jigsaw puzzle. After ascertaining that Morrow was not at all interested in playing cards, they opted for draughts, setting up the board on a camp stool.  

As they started the first game—and as Thomas tried to remember what little draughts strategy he had ever bothered to know—Richard said, “Admit it—I was right, wasn’t I?”

“About what?” Thomas asked.

“That it’s rather pretty here.”

Thomas hadn’t really been paying much attention.  “Oh, yes. It’s nice.”

“I’d never done this sort of thing before—unless you count going with my employer to his shooting lodge—but I think I rather like it.”  

“As long as you don’t swear off matches and start wearing a pith helmet,” Thomas said, without thinking.

Fortunately, Richard took it in good spirit.  “No, I won’t get that carried away.”

**  And a bit later **

Their walk took them over to the stream, which ran down the hillside with some speed, tumbling over rocks and making a considerable racket, then slowed down and spread out below the camp-site.  Wilberforce nosed along the bank for a bit, before suddenly scrambling down and entering the water with a sizeable splash.  Thomas glanced at Morrow, who did not look alarmed.  “Can he swim?”

“He’d better,” said Morrow.

Wilberforce paddled over to a rock that stuck out from the middle of the stream, climbed up on it, and assumed a heroic stance, forepaws on the highest bit of rock and water streaming from his fur.  He barked, a single sharp yap, and a moment later the rest of them heard voices coming up the path from the other direction.  

“—bit better up at the loch,” Mr. Braceridge was saying. “Have you got a fly-rod?”

Mr. Braceridge’s voice was the one that carried best, but Thomas made out a few other things, about fly-rods and deer, and another mention of the loch.  

“We’ll have to see what the others think,” said Father Timothy.  “They must be nearby, since we heard little Wilberforce.”

“Over here!” Richard called, and after a few moments of rustling, the rest of the party popped into view, on the other side of the stream.  Wilberforce hopped down from his rock and clambered up the other bank, going from one person to the next and sniffing at their trousers.

“Ah, good,” said Mr. Braceridge.  “There’s an expedition in the works—track the river to its source, what?”

Father Timothy translated, “If the weather’s fine tomorrow, we thought we’d walk up to the lake.”

“Good fishing up there,” Mr. Braceridge amplified.  “And shooting.”

“All right by me,” said Richard, and glanced at Thomas and Morrow, who made noises of vague agreement.

Mr. Braceridge started talking about sorting out stores and oiling rifles, but Father Timothy spoke over him.  “Perhaps you chaps wouldn’t mind popping the kettle on—we’ve got to go around the long way, to get to a place we can cross.”  

Mr. Braceridge took a step closer to the bank, eying the rocks that dotted the stream.  “Could make it here—hop from rock to rock.”

“You’ll fall in and catch your death,” said Father Timothy, tugging him back from the bank.  Mr. Braceridge didn’t look particularly impressed by this argument, until the vicar added, “And if the others were foolish enough to follow you, they’d spoil their guns.”  

With that, Mr. Braceridge assented.  Morrow whistled for Wilberforce, who splashed back through the stream to them, and they started back for the bunkhouse.  

“It’s only supposed to be about an hour’s walk up to the loch,” Richard told them as they walked. “I didn’t see it last time, since it rained the whole time.”

“I don’t mind going,” Thomas said, since it sounded as though Richard wanted to.  

“Is anyone going to ask if I mind?” Morrow asked.  

“You can read there just as well as anywhere else,” Richard pointed out.  “The rest of them will be too busy shooting and fishing to bother you.”

“Oh, all right,” said Morrow, resignedly.

[ionlycareaboutyou]

Sethon fic about them on their first real date, learning about one another, perhaps?

thank you for prompting! i thought i’d write a little thing about what happened after seth told stefon he could be his valentine. here’s the sketch where that happens if you want to watch it. i’m sure this has been explored before, but i wanted to add my take to it! :)

cw for cheating...seth how could you!

Seth isn’t sure how it comes tumbling out of him. It’s not written on his cue card, and it’s not something he thought of before he went on. It’s just that--even if it’s a bit, Stefon sounds kind of sad as he beckons to the audience and pulls out his bottom lip, and how could someone like him be alone on Valentine’s Day? How could such a lively person who seems to have so many friends not have someone to go out with? There’s a pang right in the middle of Seth’s chest.

“Well, maybe just for tonight,” he decides, shifting in his chair, “And just for tonight,” he adds, though it feels like it’s a reminder to himself more than anything else, “You can be my Valentine.”

Stefon’s face lights up. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Seth feels a smile tug on the corners of his lips. “I guess I got struck by Jewpid’s arrow.”

The audience chuckles as Stefon raises a hand, exclaiming, “L’chaim!” Seth signs off, taps the table for Amy, and on a whim, leans forward to give his party monster an awkward but earnest hug.

When the show is over, Seth slips his jacket off in his office and undoes his tie, rolling up the sleeves to the forearm. It may be February, but 30 Rock always gets hot. He hears the familiar soft, airy voice in the hallway, talking to Cecily. When he finds his way into the hallway, Cecily slips away with a wave. It seems like every time Seth joins a conversation with Stefon in it, they’re left alone. “So, I know it’s kind of late,” Seth begins. Stefon tilts his head, intrigued. “But I thought we could go to the diner by Central Park? I know it’s not super fancy, so if you’re let down I--”

“Oh, Seth Meyers,” Stefon’s voice is light and his eyes are wide. “You don’t have to take me out.”

“But, you’re my Valentine,” Seth replies, a little confused. “For tonight, right? If you don’t want to go out, I get it, we can just watch a movie or something.” He’s down for almost anything, though he’s surprised at the thought of Stefon not wanting to go out.

“I thought--I guess Stefon thought that you didn’t actually want to actually...” He lets himself trail off and makes a vague hand motion.

“Stefon, of course I want to!” He says quickly. It’s not something he would’ve joked about; he genuinely wanted Stefon to have a good time on Valentine’s Day. Sure, it was unpredictable, but he was committed now. “Unless you’d prefer not to.”

“No, I’d absolutely love to, Seth Meyers. I’m sorry I didn’t know you meant it.” Stefon gives him a smile that borders on shy. “We can definitely go to the diner.”

“I know it’s not exactly Booooooooof, but it won’t be busy like the other places,” Seth says with a grin. He slips into his office to get his winter coat, and then slips out of 30 Rock with Stefon by his side. It’s not an uncommon sight.

The last time they spent one-on-one time like this, they were in New Hampshire, visiting Seth’s family. His girlfriend had gone to her parents’ and told him to “have fun with Stefon”--he would be lying if he said he didn’t hear the hint of bitterness in her voice. He knows he needs to make that up to her. And he will tomorrow. He promises himself that he will.

But tonight, he’s catching up with Stefon, asking how he rung in the New Year as they make the subway journey to the diner. Stefon tells him all about how he met up with Jacked Beth for the first time in years and they went club hopping, drinking drinks of various neon colors and watching things like burlesque shows that featured acrobats and had encounters with human baby bjorns. Seth giggles the whole way through his story, and Stefon looks pleased with himself, nose scrunching up each time Seth gasps or laughs.

When they get to the diner, there’s only a few other couples there, most of them having quite a few years on both of them. They’re seated by the window, all the lights turning to a blurry painting in Seth’s peripheral vision. Stefon curls into the corner of the booth. “I’m still kind of surprised you really wanted to be my Valentine, Seth Meyers,” he admits after they order their drinks.

“I know it was kind of impromptu,” Seth says. “I guess I just thought...you shouldn’t be alone on Valentine’s Day.” He knows there’s more to it than that, but maybe it’s better to not bring it up right now. It’s not the time or the place.

“It’s nice to be here,” Stefon says. “Let’s do it more often. Not just on Valentine’s Day.”

They’re handed their cups of coffee--Seth puts plenty of cream and sugar in his, and Stefon keeps his black, somehow. They talk about almost anything. Stefon asks how Mrs. Meyers (or Madame Meyers, as he’s begun to call her) is doing, and Seth says she’s expecting a call from him. He asks Stefon how his mother is, and he gives a noncommittal shrug. They talk about a few lighter things, like the sketch John is going to pitch on Monday and the new movies that are out right now. The only time the conversation comes to a halt is when Stefon asks how his girlfriend is and Seth is unsure how to answer, because it’s only then that he realizes he doesn’t really know. “She’s fine,” he answers, quietly. They shovel food in their mouths for a few tense moments, before Stefon begins talking about DJ Baby Bok Choy’s new remix.

They leave the diner after three cups of coffee each and a shared piece of pie for dessert. They’re smiling again and making jokes, and Seth promises to take Stefon home even though Stefon says he doesn’t have to. “I want to,” Seth declares, and that’s that.

He walks him up the stairs to his studio apartment, and they linger in the doorway for a little bit, not wanting to say goodbye just yet. “Thanks for being my Valentine, Seth Meyers.” He smiles sweetly.

“Next year I’ll have a plan, I promise.”

“Next year?”

“Oh, I mean...if you’d like.”

“‘Course Stefon would like it,” he says.

“I would like it, too.” They linger a little more, unsure of what to say. “But it’s late and I guess I have to go home.”

“A shame,” Stefon pouts a little. “But you do have a day job.”

“If you can call it that,” Seth chuckles. “Um, I’ll see you, Stefon. Sooner rather than later?”

“Yes, of course.” He smiles that sweet smile again, and before Seth can stop himself, he leans in and kisses him. It’s just lips pressed against lips at first, but then Stefon melts into it, and he doesn’t know how long they’re standing there, lips sliding over each other almost lazily. The taste of coffee and cake still lingers, and the warmth of it brings heat to Seth’s body, from the top of his head to his ice cold fingers. When he pulls away, they both look dazed, like they just came up from being underwater.

“I-” Seth begins, but he can’t find the end to the sentence. “We-”

“Shouldn’t,” Stefon finishes it.

“Yes, but-”

“You-”

“I- Can we-”

“Again?” Stefon asks.

“Yes. Do you want to? Again?”

Stefon nods emphatically, and pulls Seth in by his waist, the door shutting behind them.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Pluralistic: 24 Mar 2020 (Nebula Awards move online, Make America Well Again stamps, Data is the new toxic waste, Stock Jump, Grandparents Optional Party, Quarantine Book Club, the Party of Death, financial stability vs economic stability, quarantine vs workforce automation, bailouts and moral hazard, MIT's open source ventilator)

Today's links

This year's Nebula Awards will be held online: It's $150, and raising funds to bail out corona-shattered writers.

Make America Well Again stamps: from the artist who brought you the Trump Zero Cents stamp.

Data is the new toxic waste: It never was the "new oil" (my latest podcast).

Stock Jump: A ski-game that lets you play the stock charts of cratered businesses.

Murdering 20% of elderly Americans is bad strategy for the GOP: Terrified old people are the turkeys who vote for plutes' Christmas every four years.

Join me on the Quarantine Book Club: April 1, 3PM Pacific.

The Party of Death: It's a good time to buy exterminism futures.

Financial stability vs economic stability: Debts that can't be paid, won't be paid.

Quarantine reveals the falsity of the automation crisis: Augmentation isn't replacement.

Bailouts and moral hazard: If we never teach big business, it won't ever learn.

MIT's ingenious manual/automatic open source ventilator: Now in FDA testing.

This day in history: 2005, 2010, 2015, 2019

Colophon: Recent publications, current writing projects, upcoming appearances, current reading

This year's Nebula Awards will be held online (permalink)

This year's Nebula Awards weekend is moving online, thanks to decisive action from SFWA and Mary Robinette Kowal.

https://www.sfwa.org/2020/03/22/announcing-the-transformation-of-the-2020-nebula-conference-and-covid19-relief/

It'll include "panels, solo presentations, conference mentorships, workshops, forums, chats, and virtual room parties (including a dance party hosted by John Scalzi)." Part of the proceeds will go to relief for sf writers who are in covid-related financial distress.

It runs May 29-31, including a livestream of the Nebula Awards banquet. Registration is $150 and comes with a year of access to archived materials and the SFWA Bulletin.

Make America Well Again stamps (permalink)

I bought some of Ben Hannam's Trump No Cents stamps in 2017 and never looked back. I still put 'em on letters.

Now he's got a Make America Well Again stamp, which you can lick (if you dare) and stick for the duration. Remember, USPS is profitable and unsubsidized and Trump's swamp-dwellers want to shut it down and replace it with donors like Fedex and UPS!

Data is the new toxic waste (permalink)

My latest podcast is a reading of "Data – the new oil, or potential for a toxic oil spill?" — a column arguing that data was never "the new oil" – instead, it was always the new toxic waste: "pluripotent, immortal – and impossible to contain."

https://www.kaspersky.com/blog/secure-futures-magazine/data-new-toxic-waste/34184/

Data breaches are inevitable (any data you collect will probably leak; any data you retain will definitely leak) and cumulative (your company's data breach can be combined with each subsequent attack to revictimize your customers).

Identity thieves benefit enormously from cheap storage, and they collect, store and recombine every scrap of leaked data. Merging multiple data sets allows for reidentification of "anonymized" data, and it's impossible to predict which sets will leak in the future.

These nondeterministic harms have so far protected data-collectors from liability, but that can't last. Toxic waste also has nondeterministic harms (we never know which bit of effluent will kill which person), but we still punish firms that leak it.

Waiting until the laws change to purge your data is a bad bet – by then, it may be too late. All the data your company collects and retains represents an unquantifiable, potentially unlimited source of downstream liability.

What's more, you probably aren't doing anything useful with it. The companies that make the most grandiose claims about data analytics are either selling analytics or data (or both). These claims are sales literature, not peer-reviewed citations to empirical research.

Data is cheap to collect and store – if you don't have to pay for the chaos it sows when it leaks. And some day, we will make data-hoarders pay.

Here's the podcast:

https://craphound.com/podcast/2020/03/23/data-the-new-oil-or-potential-for-a-toxic-oil-spill/

Here's the MP3:

https://ia801406.us.archive.org/9/items/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_334/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_334_-Data-_the_new_oil_or_potential_for_a_toxic_oil_spill.mp3

And here's the link to subscribe to the podcast:

http://feeds.feedburner.com/doctorow_podcast

Stock Jump

Stock Jump (permalink)

Last week, those of us lucky enough to have retirement savings joined the rest of the world, because our 401(k)s all cratered and all the promising stocks (teleconferencing, guillotines) are all way, way overpriced thanks to panic buying by Republican Senators.

But when life gives you SARS, you make sarsaparilla.

Enter Stock Jump, a ski-jump game whose courses are procedurally generated by the stock charts of shares from around the world.

It's really fun! If you can see through the tears.

http://stockjump.sos.gd/

Murdering 20% of elderly Americans is bad strategy for the GOP (permalink)

A thread by Patrick Nielsen Hayden on Making Light crystallized a thought that literally had me tossing and turning all night, about Trump's decision to risk the lives of ~20% of elderly Americans to goose the stock market.

https://nielsenhayden.com/makinglight/archives/016643.html#4402672

The thing I find baffling is how short-term this thinking is.

Not for Trump, of course, who is legendary for his view of life as a game of running across a river hopping from the back of one alligator to another before he can get his leg bitten off.

But for the right-wing establishment, whose whole schtick is "rationality" and "long-term thinking" and "self-control" (think of the gleeful repetition of the discredited Marshmellow Test and the rhetoric about the "poor life choices" that lead to single parenthood, addiction, and inadequate retirement savings or health insurance).

How is it that these self-congratulatory long-game-players can't see that murdering one in five American seniors is a self-limiting move when frightened old white people are the primary source of turkeys who can be counted upon to vote for Christmas every four years?

The right has an antimajoritarian, elitist agenda. Right-wing thought is essentially the belief that some people are destined to rule, and others are destined to be ruled over by their betters, and the world is best when the right people are atop the pyramid. Splits in the right are about who should rule: Dominionists want Christian men in charge; libertarians want bosses in charge, imperialists want America in charge, racists want white people in charge, etc.

Antimajoritarian projects struggle in democracies, for obvious reasons. When your platform is "only 1% of us should be making decisions" it's hard to win 51% of the vote. That's why the right focuses so hard on gerrymandering and voter suppression, and why the otherwise untenable coalitions — finaciers and young-Earth Creationists, say — persist.

But the biggest source of ballots in support of rule by elites is frightened people, especially frightened bigots who think that the elites will promote their interests ahead of the disfavored minorities (think: Dixiecrats).

So murdering 20% of the most reliable source of votes for elite rule is a farcically shortsighted thing to do.

I am terrified of a Biden candidacy not merely because I think his policies are poor, but because I think he is really bad at being a candidate, and will struggle to win.

But Trump murdering 20% of his base might just be enough to make him lose. It may be that while he could murder someone in the middle of 5th Ave and get away with it, he can't sentence 20% of US pensioners to gruesome deaths and get away with it.

I'm not gleeful at this prospect. I am totally aghast. I barely slept last night, waking up dozens of times with this genocide playing out in my imagination.

But I am incredibly surprised. How does the self-declared Party of the Long View not see that this is going to destroy it?

The stock market is circling the drain and obviously this is very distressing for the donor class, but almost no Americans own any significant stocks, because most Americans have NO savings. The idea that rescuing share prices by killing the elderly will get the turkeys out to vote for Christmas is clearly wrong.

For more on antimajoritarianism and the right, read Corey Robin's outstanding book, "The Reactionary Mind."

https://twitter.com/doctorow/status/1234117673316782082

Join me on the Quarantine Book Club (permalink)

I'm going participate in a session of the Quarantine Book Club on April 1 at 3PM Pacific, where we're discussing my book Radicalized. Tickets here:

https://www.eventbrite.com/e/quarantine-book-club-cory-doctorow-tickets-100931360416

If $5 is a burden for you, you can get in free with the code ALLAREWELCOME.

Hope to see you!

The Party of Death (permalink)

In his 2017 book Four Futures, Peter Frase uses science fiction to sketch out four ways our society could go as capitalism ruptures, from communism to exterminism, this being the expression of bosses' fear and dependence on workers.

https://boingboing.net/2017/01/06/four-futures-using-science-fi.html

Frase posits a possible mass-automation event that makes workers superfluous (I'm skeptical of this: climate change guarantees 2-3 centuries of full employment, e.g., relocating every coastal city).

But in light of the Current Situation, he imagines a different form of exterminism.

https://jacobinmag.com/2020/03/coronavirus-economy-public-health-exterminism/

It's not just the GOP's willingness to murder 20% of seniors in the hopes of rescuing the Dow.

Plutes and their bootlickers have been calling for mass-deaths as a preferable alternative since the crisis first manifested, as when Tea Party founder Rick Santelli suggested "Maybe we'd be just better off if we gave it to everybody."

And of course, there was Boris Johnson and Dominick Cummings' plan to infect all of the UK to create "herd immunity." As Cummings said, "if that means some pensioners die, too bad."

Now Trump wants to potentially murder 20% of American seniors to rescue share prices, and the GOP is going along with him.

https://twitter.com/doctorow/status/1242444277264740353

The Republicans have become the Party of Death, with establishment figures like Thomas Friedman providing ideological cover (""let many of us get the coronavirus, recover and get back to work").

https://www.nytimes.com/2020/03/22/opinion/coronavirus-economy.html

Frase: "The ghoulishness of this strategy will become apparent when it is too late, when the hospitals fill and the health care system and the economy both collapse."

"Those in power will be held blameless, and those with wealth will sadly lament the foolishness of the lesser orders."

"Socialists have always insisted that human needs should take precedence over profit, that the stock market is not the economy, and that we need to utterly transform an economy that is immiserating working people and destroying the planet. That message will only become more urgent as our opponents across different parts of the ruling class come to the conclusion — mournfully for some, gleefully for others — that in the contest between loss of profit and loss of life, they choose death."

Financial stability vs economic stability (permalink)

Michael Hudson is a fascinating thinker, an expert in the history of debt and debt-forgiveness. See, e.g., this:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/03/23/tacocat-vs-dog-prostates/#jubilee

In a new interview, Hudson delves into that history: interest-bearing debt was invented in the third millennium BCE, and quickly kings learned that they had to have periodic debt forgiveness, or compound interest would render all debts unpayable.

https://digitalfinanceanalytics.com/blog/debt-and-power-with-michael-hudson/

Greeks and Romans did away with the practice, and so had to live with six centuries of debt-revolts, as ever-larger fractions of their populace ended up in a form of debt slavery.

Greek Democracy was created to allow commoners to serve in government and so vote to cancel debts. Roman emperors conquered Greece and did away with debt-cancellation, creating an increasingly unstable oligarchy.

That's not far off from where we are today. 90% of debts are held by the richest 10%, and these oligarchs own the political process and refuse to countenance debt-cancellation.

Obama promised to write down mortgages, but instead he bailed out finance, who kicked us all out and bought our houses out from under us, and then rented back to us. Since then, the Fed "has created $4.5 trillion of credit to support prices for real estate."

"The aim has been to make housing more expensive, enabling the banks to collect on their mortgages and not go under. Credit keeps the debt overhead in place, thereby keeping the financial system afloat instead of facing the reality that debt needs to be written down."

Trump's gonna do it again, giving $50b to airlines/Boeing. Since 2008, Boeing has spent $45b on buybacks. Trump's message: "Spend 92-95% of your income to buy your own hares, and the government will print money so you can do it again, because our priority is stock prices."

"Financial stability" is incompatible with "economic stability." Financial stability means never writing down debts so that the bad loans oligarchs made never turn into bad debts. Economic stability requires debt write-downs so that people can be productive.

Obama's bailouts increased big banks' Too Big to Fail status. That's why since 2008, "GDP per 95 percent of the American population is actually shrunk. All the growth in America's GDP has occurred only to the wealthiest 5% of the population."

Today, plutes "hope to use the crisis not to revive the economy, but to just pound it into debt deflation, leaving the debts in place while bailing out the banks and the landlord class."

Here's what "financial stability" looks like: "you have to pay this exponential growth in debt, [and] have less and less to buy goods and services."

Quarantine reveals the falsity of the automation crisis (permalink)

Automation-based unemployment has always been overhyped. Any work that robots take over merely frees up human workers for the 2-300 year project of climate remediation, including relocating every coastal city in the world.

But automation is also vastly overhyped. Take the oft-repeated claim that "truck driver" is the most common job in America, and first in line to be automated. It's just wrong.

First, because the BLS "truck driver" category includes long-haul truckers, delivery drivers, couriers, and dozens of other subprofessions, most of which are far, far away from being automatable.

https://hbr.org/2019/09/automation-isnt-about-to-make-truckers-obsolete

(More importantly, though: the most automatable category is long-haul driver, and an automated long-haul truck in its own dedicated lane is just a shitty train).

The overhyped nature of technological displacement is on perfect display during the pandemic quarantine. As many "low skilled" (which is to say, "low waged") workers withdraw from the workforce, the economy has ground to a halt.

So much so that the right is now prepared to throw 20+% of seniors into the volcano to appease the market gods.

The category error committed by automation-fretters is to confuse "automating a job" with "augmenting a worker."

"We know that robots are great at repetitive work. they can do that forever. What's not so great is anything with a human-centered context, a cultural context." -Julie Carpenter

https://www.wired.com/story/robot-jobs-coronavirus/

Bailouts and moral hazard (permalink)

It's been barely a decade since the USG bailed out big businesses and the fact that we're here again reveals some of the glaring failures in the last bailout. Any new bailout should correct those errors by putting restrictions on bailed-out companies.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/03/19/gb-whatsapp/#peoples-bailout

There have been some good proposals on these lines, like those from AOC and Stephanie Kelton:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/03/21/most-dangerous-ghost/#peoples-bailout

(whenever I write about this in public, I'm inundated with angry tweets from sociopaths with "investor" in their bios)

We're running out of time to get this right. DC is so filled with money-hungry lobbyists that they can't practice adequate social distancing, and they're collectively seeking trillions in string-free public money for their paymaster.

https://www.ineteconomics.org/perspectives/blog/rule-number-1-for-government-bailouts-of-companies-make-sure-voters-and-taxpayers-share-in-the-upside

At a minimum, any bailouts should come in exchange for convertible corporate bonds that let the USG take an ownership stake in any business that fails to repay its public debts. That's a minimum, as is a ban on stock buybacks for bailed out companies.

We need very strict limits on lobbying by bailed out firms: "If we are not to finance our own bamboozlement, any company receiving bailouts must be required each month to file full reports on political contributions and lobbying expenditures to candidates and parties."

This goes for dark money contributions, including 527 funds, and corporate/exec contributions to trade associations and other lobbying fronts, think-tanks, and other political influence vehicles.

"Unlike last time, when Hank Paulson, Tim Geithner, and Ben Bernanke failed to give the public a serious share of the upside, the bailed out firms should be compelled to issue convertible bonds to the government."

"Those bonds should make the government the senior creditor to the firm for the value of the principal as long as the debt is unpaid…As firms and the economy recover, the shares can be sold on the open market, yielding a handsome return to the Treasury."

The right likes to harp about "moral hazard" as an excuse for cutting aid, to, say, single mothers ("It only encourages them"). But what about businesses that needed trillions in 2008 and now need trillions more? What lesson are we teaching them?

(Image: Alex Proimos, CC BY)

MIT's ingenious manual/automatic open source ventilator (permalink)

At the end of last week, a crowdsourced design for an open-source hardware ventilator entered testing with the Irish regulator, a week after work began on the project.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/03/20/pluralistic-20-mar-2020/#oshw-breathing

Now, hot on its heels, an MIT open source hardware ventilator team has submitted its design to the FDA for testing and approval, under the Emergency Use Authorization (EUA) authority.

https://e-vent.mit.edu/

It eliminates many possible sources of failure by replacing an electric pump with a manual one, which can, in turn, be operated by a separate, very simple, Arduino-controlled system (which can be readily swapped out for a human hand if it fails).

As Hackaday points out, "Almost as interesting as the device itself is the comments people are leaving about the design."

https://hackaday.com/2020/03/23/mit-ventilator-designed-with-common-manual-resuscitator-submitted-for-fda-testing/

This day in history (permalink)

#15yrsago Record sales up, P2P sales up — RIAA's story doesn't add up https://web.archive.org/web/20050822053404/http://news.com.com/2100-1027_3-5631698.html

#15yrsago Octopuses dressed up as sea coconuts sneaking on two legs https://www.nature.com/news/2005/050321/full/050321-14.html

#10yrsago Pooh vs Alien: Webcomics realize their full potential at last http://godxiliary.com/alienvspooh/

#10yrsago Airport worker caught photographing screen as female worker passed through naked scanner https://www.theguardian.com/uk/2010/mar/24/airport-worker-warned-body-scanner

#10yrsago UK record lobby: democracy is a waste of time https://www.openrightsgroup.org/blog/2010/corporate-lobbyists-no-need-for-democracy

#5yrsago How medical abortion works https://www.ohjoysextoy.com/medical-abortion/

#5yrsago ACLU sues TSA to make it explain junk science "behavioral detection" program https://www.aclu.org/press-releases/nyclu-and-aclu-sue-tsa-records-discredited-behavior-detection-program

#5yrsago Randomized dystopia generator that goes beyond the Bill of Rights https://www.harihareswara.net/dystopia/

#1yrago Man stole $122m from Facebook and Google by sending them random bills, which the companies dutifully paid https://www.bleepingcomputer.com/news/security/lithuanian-pleads-guilty-to-stealing-100-million-from-google-facebook/

#1yrago Chelsea Manning is being held in prolonged solitary confinement, a form of torture https://xychelsea.is/?page_id=28

Colophon (permalink)

Today's top sources: Tor.com (https://tor.com), Naked Capitalism (https://nakedcapitalism.com/), Slashdot (https://slashdot.org/).

Currently writing: I'm getting geared up to start work my next novel, "The Lost Cause," a post-GND novel about truth and reconciliation.

Currently reading: Just started Lauren Beukes's forthcoming Afterland: it's Y the Last Man plus plus, and two chapters in, it's amazeballs. Last month, I finished Andrea Bernstein's "American Oligarchs"; it's a magnificent history of the Kushner and Trump families, showing how they cheated, stole and lied their way into power. I'm getting really into Anna Weiner's memoir about tech, "Uncanny Valley." I just loaded Matt Stoller's "Goliath" onto my underwater MP3 player and I'm listening to it as I swim laps.

Latest podcast: Data – the new oil, or potential for a toxic oil spill? https://craphound.com/podcast/2020/03/23/data-the-new-oil-or-potential-for-a-toxic-oil-spill/

Upcoming appearances:

Quarantine Book Club, April 1, 3PM Pacific https://www.eventbrite.com/e/quarantine-book-club-cory-doctorow-tickets-100931360416

Museums and the Web, April 2, 12PM-3PM Pacific https://mw20.museweb.net/

Upcoming books: "Poesy the Monster Slayer" (Jul 2020), a picture book about monsters, bedtime, gender, and kicking ass. Pre-order here: https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781626723627?utm_source=socialmedia&utm_medium=socialpost&utm_term=na-poesycorypreorder&utm_content=na-preorder-buynow&utm_campaign=9781626723627

(we're having a launch for it in Burbank on July 11 at Dark Delicacies and you can get me AND Poesy to sign it and Dark Del will ship it to the monster kids in your life in time for the release date).

"Attack Surface": The third Little Brother book, Oct 20, 2020. https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250757531

"Little Brother/Homeland": A reissue omnibus edition with a new introduction by Edward Snowden: https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250774583

[thatbanjobusiness]

Early 1920s Non-English American Records by OKeh

I’ve only begun researching the history of the early recorded music industry. From the beginning, I’ve been interested learning about certain series of records sold by OKeh, a company (of course not the only one) which sought out musicians from a variety of cultural and ethnic groups to appeal to North American and American immigrant demographics. OKeh was one of the first companies to regularly conduct field trips locating musicians in areas that previously lacked recording studio access.

OKeh is responsible for tapping into multiple demographics that had been underrepresented or absent from early commercial music records. In 1920 OKeh recorded Mamie Smith’s “Crazy Blues,” in which Mamie Smith was the first African-American female singer to lead a commercial recording. It was “unexpectedly” successful and broke open the doors for major recording companies to produce materials specifically for African-American audiences. This song alone is worth a ton of research, discussion, and analysis regarding its social background and its bold, hard-hitting lyrics like, “Get myself a gun and shoot myself a cop.”

The same individual who supervised Mamie Smith’s recording, Ralph Peer, is also credited with bringing us the first successful country music record, that of Fiddlin’ John Carson in 1923. It was almost the first country music record, too, but A. C. (“Eck”) Robertson recorded in the summer of 1922 for Victor and saw his music released in April of 1923; John Carson was recorded on June 13, 1923, and his music released August 3, 1923. Even though Peer considered either Carson’s singing or the recording quality “pluperfect awful” (different accounts say different things), this record sold like hotcakes.

To be clear: the motivations behind OKeh and Ralph Peer were that of profit, not representation. And Fiddlin’ John Carson, despite being an integral part of country music history, is no personality to celebrate. But it is nevertheless a unique and informative area of music history to explore for both the good and bad residing in it.

I’ve known the stories of Mamie Smith, Ralph Peer, and John Carson for some time, but I haven’t delved as much into OKeh’s early 1920s music in which they recorded many other cultural groups in North America. Today, I’m peeping into their early catalogue, which is excitingly available online, and contains occasional digital files of the old records.

From 1918-1934, OKeh designated entire catalog series numbers to music and comedy from many people groups and languages. These were, as designated by OKeh itself: Race [that is, African-American] (8000 and 20000), Italian (9000, 84000, and 86000), German (10000, 81000, and 85000), Polish (11000, 67000, and 87000), Hungarian (12000 and 86500), Roumanian (13000 and 83500), Finnish (13500), Jewish (14000), Porto Rican (14000), Russian (15000), Ukranian (16000 and 81500), Mexican (16000, 16400, and 88000), Bohemian (17000), Slovak (18000), Scandinavian/Swedish (19000), Danish (20000), Irish (21000), French (22000), Serbo-Croatian (23000), Slovenian-Krainer (24000), Croatian (25000), Norwegian (25000), Lithuanian (26000), Swiss (27000), Welsh (27500), Greek (28000), Portuguese (29000), Chinese (29000), Spanish (33000), West Indian (65000), Bulgarian (69000), Armenian (77000 and 78000), Hebrew (80000), Portuguese (80500), Greek (82000 and 82500), Turkish (83000), and Bohemian (89000). Think I got all that right.

I’m not here today to seek out the most famous songs that have come out of OKeh’s early 1920s, but I am here to have fun, and I hope it’s fun to share with you songs in different languages I’ve found, looked up, and listened to. Because what’s cooler than what American immigrant and minority populations listened to 100 years ago?

Do note: lots of the audio files are quiet, so you’ll need to crank up. Also note: since this was a hundred years ago, sometimes the record label’s language choices can get... wonky... from a modern perspective. I don’t think here anything’s weird, but I want to give warning because I’ve Seen Things before.

S-70969 OKeh 14054 Mein Griner Cosin / Ich Bin A Border Bei Mein Weib

Tenor Morris Goldstein, singing in Yiddish and backed by an orchestra, was recorded November 1922 in New York, New York. As you can see on the label above, OKeh has it labeled as a “Jewish Comic Song.” Both Morris Goldstein and the composer of this song, Morris Rund, have their names appear on many other records. In fact, looking at Morris Goldenstein, he appears on a large number of records from five companies (Victor, Columbia, OKeh, Brunswick, and Edison) between 1916 and 1929. I desperately wish I could find more information about him, especially given how well-recorded he was, and at such an early time, indicating some level of prominent singer, but regrettably the internet is turning me up dry. I will say, even with this audio being nearly 99 years old, his voice sings out wonderfully.

I actually just stumbled across a copy of this record on eBay, which is fun to see floating around. And reliable discogs has this listed, too, albeit to no surprise, there’s no copies for sale.

8440 OKeh 26024 Pamylējau Vakar / Vai, Varge, Varge

Lithuanian! I found a hundred songs in the OKeh matrices in this language. This recording by baritone singer Kastas Sabonis was recorded in Chicago, Illinois, in July of 1923. Unfortunately, I have less on Sabonis than I do Goldstein, but I noticed Sabonis reappears on Columbia in 1925 and Victor in 1926.

One of the things I am fascinated by is how the main label material (song title, performer) is in Lithuanian, but the rest is in English. In some ways, you could say this makes sense... non-Lithuanian consumers can understand the gist of what it’s about, and Lithuanian people can potentially recognize the title of a song they’re already familiar with. And like, it’s always better to keep the title of the song in its actual language.

Also ironically, one of these records was sold online in late January 2021. So these do float around, still.

S-7310 OKeh 4801 Kuu Pua Loke / Mauna Kea O' Hawaii

We have records of Prince Lei Lani between 1913 and 1928. He started with Victor and switched to OKeh in 1920. This song, Mauna kea o' Hawaii, is the second song he recorded with OKeh; he was recorded in New York, New York. It’s a beautiful recording.

He was born in 1887 in Hawai'i as Edwin Kaumualiiokamokuokalani Rose. Sometimes you’ll see his name as Prince Leilani, Edwin K. Rose, or E. K. Rose. He was in three movies: Waikiki Wedding (1937), Hawaiian Nights (1939), and Bird of Paradise (1951). Lest you forget how nascent the recording industry is, Prince Lei Lani died in 1971. I’ve found one blogger, a relative of his, who’s translated articles and advertisements from Hawaiian to English and collected information on him, in case you’re interested seeing photographs of him and learning more. There’s some fun stuff here.

73798 Odeon 18056 Prychod Z Krčmi Na Svite

Comedy! Slovak comedy! Although the database tells me this is a “Male vocal solo, with accordion,” there’s clearly two singers, and the majority of the recording is speech. The singing duet backed by accordion seems to be, to my untrained ear, an opener and a closer to the act. Comedy recordings are a fun element of early records I need to get more into, and while I can’t understand Andrej Gellert’s speech, the fact he’s intentionally interspersing his speech with hiccups makes it clear to me this is a humorous sketch.

This was recorded November 1925 in New York, New York.

There are more digital files of Andrej Gellert on this site. These ones are music. That’s probably why he got listed as “Male vocal solo.” You can hear Mlynské kolo tosa toci, from the same recording session as Prychod z krčmi na svite. There’s also Lístie opadlo (this one’s really cool) and Na ćo som na svete?, and Veselý pastier recorded May 11, 1925. Frankly his list goes on forever. He did quite a lot for Victor and OKeh between 1923 and 1928.

And to again emphasize these things can be found: there’s a copy of one Andrej Gellert record for sale on discogs for $7.67 + shipping.

That’s about all the time I have today to screw around with early recordings. If I come back around again with more tidbits like this, don’t be surprised.

[yourfavehas-adhd]

Hi!! Sorry for the wait, just submitting here so i dont have a character limit. Sorry this got so long!

In the 92nd Street Y video, "A conversation with Bill Hader and John Mulaney, at 1:20:54, someone asks "What SNL sketches do you most regret?", to which the answer is:

Bill: There's a lot.

John: Yeah, there's a lot, yeah. Like, uhm.. yeah. Well, I won't talk about some that, y'know.. later, someone would go "That was a little offensive", because I feel genuinely bad about those. 

Bill: Yeah, there were some that were offensive that we look back at and go "Oh, man..."

John: We look back immediately, and as the years have gone on, look back more-so. And truly, I'm not.. being facetious about it. 

I highly suggest this article from late 2019, it addresses some things that John has done in the past, and John says "My friend puts it this way: 'Why is everyone freaking out about adapting?' As a comedian, you constantly step your ego to go, 'I'd like to be a better comedian'."

The article goes over a lot about his willingness to improve as a person and comedian, and has a lot more quotes about it that i didn't include for the sake of keeping this short. But the article tells a lot about him and his past, it's a good read. John talks about who he used to be, and how he doesn't associate with that person anymore, and how he tries to do better.

Bill Hader has also commented on the this topic too, saying how comedy has changed for the better, that he regrets some sketches he did, and that he doesn't want to hurt anyone's feelings. I believe all this was said in 2019. 

I know this is an ADHD blog (a great one btw!) and lol this aint a John Mulaney blog, and that this is getting kinda long, I just wanted to share this info!! Personally, I really don't think John is currently problematic or anything like that, he's made/written some really bad jokes but actively know they're horrible and offensive and knows to not make them anymore. 

Anyone can DM me (silverbill) if they have any other questions or convo on this :] Hope you have a good day/night!!

****

Thank you very much for your help! I'll go ahead and publish this for everyone to see.

[anotherhystericalqueen]

As Easy as Breathing III

Modern!AU Brian May x OC

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: None

A/N: Part III is here! Please let me know what you guys think, any and all feedback is appreciated. Also a big thanks to @spacedustmazzello​ for being awesome and a huge help with my writing💕

Part I  Part II

Josie woke up early to her alarm going off the next morning. She grabbed her phone and hit the snooze, but that didn’t last long when she saw the text messages and social media notifications flooding her screen. 

Brian: Hey, is everything okay?

Brian: You ran off pretty fast last night, is everything alright?

Brain: Josie? I’m getting worried. Please text me back 

Roggie: Hey, we didn’t get back until super late so I’m coming in later in the morning. Can we talk later? I promise it isn’t about you and Brian.

John: Want to hang out later? I’ll be at the shop all day with Rog or Freddie if you want to do something. 

Brian: I’m stopping by Rag Trade later to drop off my stuff from last night. Are you working today?

Instagram- you were tagged in a post by @Queenmusicofficial

Josie responded to John first. “Yea I’m opening today so I’ll be at the shop until 3-ish so come by the shop whenever. I’m working on a project for Freddie so we can do something afterwards.”

She didn’t check to see if he responded or look at any of the other texts before crawling out of bed and shrugging on her bathrobe. She snuck into the shared bathroom between her and Roger’s bedrooms and fell right into her morning routine. 

After a quick but warm shower, some light makeup, and spending 20 minutes trying to find an outfit that met her standards, Josie grabbed her phone and shoulder bag from the end of her bed. The bag was a lot heavier than it usually was as she threw it over her shoulder, and it moved a lot more than a bag should have. Josie flipped open the bag to reveal an orange and white kitten curled up inside, his big green eyes staring up at his owner. 

“Chippey,” Josie sighed and picked him up with one hand. “What are you doing in there? You know I can’t take you with me to work.” 

The kitten meowed back at her as she placed him back on the floor. He began weaving in between her legs as she walked out to the kitchen area. Chip continued to persistently meow as she pulled up his food bowl along with Delilah and Miko’s and fished through the cabinet below for the cat food. All three cats meowed loudly and rubbed themselves up against her until their food bowls were full and their water was refreshed. 

Josie poured herself a bowl of cereal for breakfast so she at least had something to eat before her shift and scrolled through her Instagram, checking the post she was tagged in.

It was a set of photos of the band performing onstage and hanging out backstage before the show. The front one was of the band and Josie in the backstage dressing room before the show, posing for the camera with bright smiles on their faces. She began to think back on what happened after that picture was taken, but was soon pulled out of her thoughts to see Roger standing in the kitchen, digging the kettle out from the top cupboard and filling it with water. 

“Morning.” Josie piped up. “Sorry if I was too loud, I didn't mean to wake you.” 

The drummer shrugged, grabbing a mug and a bag of his favorite tea. “No worries, I was already awake so you don’t have to apologize. If anything, I guess I am the one that owes you an apology.” He trailed off.

“Rog, it’s fine.” Josie replied. “You don’t have to apologize for something you weren’t aware of.” 

“I know, but I wish you had said anything before trying to snog my best friend.” 

Josie dropped her phone and glared at her roommate. “It was not my intention to kiss Brian, and you know I didn’t kiss him because you were there. And you didn’t have to run off afterwards if you had a problem.” 

“And you didn’t have to run after me.” Roger remarked. “I don’t have a problem with who you can and can’t like, but all I am saying is that it would have been nice to know beforehand.” 

“It isn’t your business to know who I do or do not like, even if it was Brian and I am not obligated to tell you anything.” Josie shot up from her seat so fast that both Miko and Chip jumped in surprise. She grabbed her now empty bowl of cereal, rinsed it out, and placed it in the dishwasher. 

“I’ll see you at the shop.” She picked up her bag and threw it over her shoulder, not even making eye contact with Roger before heading out the door.” 

~~~~~~~~~

The Rag Trade had very slow foot traffic in the morning, which gave Josie time to hang back at the counter and work on finishing Freddie’s jacket before he came in later. John and Roger joined her in the shop two hours later, Roger taking Josie's place behind the counter and John set himself in the back of the store with Josie’s workspace. 

“What’d you think of the show last night?’ John asked. “I didn’t get the chance to see you after the show, looked like you were in a bit of a rush when I saw you.” 

“It was fun,” The seamstress answered, not breaking concentration from the jacket’s meticulous detail work. “Sorry I couldn’t stay later. Had to get up early to open the shop, can’t make rent if we aren’t open, and also I promised Freddie that his jacket would be done today so I have to finish all this stoning or else I’m gonna get way behind on my schedule. What about you? Have some fun after I left?” 

The bassist shook his head, “I guess. None of us were really in much of a partying mood last night.” 

Josie looked up from her work, “How come?”

“I don’t know. The show went great but I just felt drained afterwards. And it felt like there was something going on between Brian and Roger after you left.” He explained. 

Josie felt her stomach drop to her feet. Brian and Roger were mad at each other, and it was all her fault because she almost kissed Brian and Roger saw it happen. She remembered her and Roger’s conversation that morning. Josie barely knew what was happening between her and the guitarist and for sure wasn’t ready to explain it to Roger. “What do you mean by something going on? Like did they look mad at each other or something else was going on?”

John noticed Josie’s sudden interest in Brian and Roger. “They weren’t mad at each other from what I saw, it was more like they had to talk about something but didn’t want to bring it up in front of me and Freddie.” He shrugged, “My guess is that it was about the setlist, they were arguing about wanting to play some old Smile songs. Brian wanted to add them but Rog was against it and wanted to play more Queen songs.” 

The sinking feeling in Josie’s stomach lightened just a bit. Maybe they weren’t mad at each other over her, it was about the setlist and she was just overthinking this whole thing. Josie turned her attention back to finishing Freddie’s jacket, adding plastic rhinestones to the jacket collar. She was over halfway finished and Freddie wasn’t coming in for another two hours, so she would have the heavy work done before Freddie would have a chance to see it for himself. 

Josie and John worked in silence for the next two hours, Josie finishing her project and John focusing on his online classes he was taking for the summer. Josie occasionally broke the silence to ask for John’s opinion on her work to see if there was anything that looked out of place or that Freddie wouldn’t like. She would reciprocate with John as another set of ears to listen to him work out a problem. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

“It looks like something an angry lizard would wear.” Roger laughed as Josie put it on her canvas mannequin to check the fit and any final touches before Freddie came in. 

Josie glared at her roommate as she added the final touches. She had transformed the beat up white leather jacket Freddie had modeled for them two weeks ago into a brand new garment. She kept with the white leather and re-stitched the collar to flare out all the way around and added fake rhinestones to the collar and cuffs of the jacket to add a level of sparkle that only Freddie would deem fashionable. 

“As long as Freddie likes it, that’s all that matters.” She defended her creation. 

“What’d you use to make it?” Roger wondered. 

Josie shrugged. “Some scraps I had from old clothes and fake rhinestones I bought from a previous commission. The jacket itself was easily salvageable but I wanted to make it even better and something that only Freddie would wear.” 

“And you did just that!” A voice exclaimed behind them. All three whipped around to see Freddie and Brian standing at the entrance of the shop. Freddie ran up to the jacket and pulled it off the mannequin before putting it on and modeling in the mirror four the others to see. Josie’s face lit up seeing how much Freddie liked it. “Darling this is absolutely stunning!” 

“Jo, do you think you can make me one to wear to Sunday church?” Deaky joked, watching Freddie marvel in the mirror at his new garment. 

Josie snorted out of laughter. “If you can find me another jacket like that I’ll be more than willing to make you one.”

“I think it looks great Jo.” Brian spoke up. “And like you said, as long as Freddie likes it that’s what really matters.” 

Josie blushed at the compliment. “Thanks Bri, I should have yours done soon too.”

Brian waived her off. “No worries, take however much time you need.”

She laughed. “Thanks, I do have the embroidery we talked about sketched out already if you want to come in back and take a look.” She secretly hoped Brian would accept her offer so she would have a reason to talk to him in private about Roger and the after show events from the previous night.

Brian accepted her offer and followed her to the backroom of the shop that Josie claimed as her workspace for client projects and her work she was doing for Queen on the side. Brian’s jacket was spread out on her worktable, the sleeves now significantly lengthened with found denim and a galaxy print that Josie found at a secondhand fabrics store a few shops down from the Rag Trade. She even used the extra fabric to line the inside of the jacket to add some extra warmth to it. Brian couldn’t see the inner lining though because the jacket was flipped over to show the backside, which was stenciled with different planets and constellations that Josie had researched. 

“So this is just a sketch of what I have in mind right now, but I can change it if there’s anything you want different.” She handed him the jacket so he could look more closely at the design. “What do you think?”

“It looks great Josie.” Brian marveled at her work. “I love it, and the fabric is a great touch.”

Josie blushed and rocked back on her heels, a nervous habit she had developed in school. “Yeah, I was hoping you would like it. The design is the hard part, so as long as you approve of it the embroidery should only take a couple days for me to do. I already have my threads so I just have to fill everything in.”

“I love it.” Brian grinned, handing the jacket back to her. “I can’t wait to see the end product.” 

Josie took it back and played with the collar. “I can’t wait for you to see it either. I can text you when it is done if you want.” 

“Yea, I’d like that.” Brian looked at her. “Also, I know we didn’t get to talk last night…...about what happened at the van.” 

The sinking feeling returned to Josie. “Yea….”

“Are you mad at me?” Brian asked. “I swear I wasn’t trying to force myself on you, it-”

“Brian I’m not mad at you.” She cut him off. “We both didn’t plan on it happening but it happened. I just don’t know what it means or how to feel about it.” 

Brian leaned against Josie’s worktable and ran a hand through his curls, trying to collect his thoughts. “It doesn’t have to mean anything right now if you don’t want it to.”

“I don’t know if I want to call it anything.” She sighed, taking a spot next to Brian. “Roger was upset at me this morning because I didn’t tell him there was anything going on with us. I told him it was none of his business and now I don’t know what to do.” 

There was a long pause hanging in the air. Neither of them knew what to say next without it leading to a longer conversation they weren’t ready to have yet. Josie wanted to play it off as a one time thing and it wouldn’t happen again

“You’re right.” Brian spoke up. “This is none of Roger’s business. You don’t have to say anything if you aren’t ready.”

“I’m not. I don’t want to call this anything right now if that’s okay with you.” She replied. 

“Fine with me.” Brian smiled. “I’m not going to push you into anything you don't want. And don’t worry about Roger, that’ll sort itself out. Promise.” 

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

Freddie took over managing the shop with Josie while John and Brian wandered off to grab lunch for the four of them. Roger made his way out onto the shop floor to try and pick up some business while Josie stepped back to where she kept all the clothes that were saved for Queen shows.

“Okay Jo, spill it.” Freddie said the minute Brian was out of earshot. “What is going on between you two?”

“What do you mean? There’s nothing going on between us.” She answered, turning her attention back to leafing through the rack of stage clothes in front of her. 

Freddie rolled his eyes as he sat down on the couch. “Yea right, of course there’s nothing between you two just like there’s nothing between me and Jim.” 

“Well then what’s going on with you and Jim then?” She shot back, continuing to focus on the garments in front of her. “You just met him yesterday. Also, what do you think of this?” She pulled out a black flowy button down shirt.

“Give it to Deaky, he liked the last one you gave him so see if he wants it for the next show. And you’re forgetting that Jim and I already have a date planned.” The singer added on. “That’s more than what you and Brian have going on.”

“We don’t have anything going on Freddie.” She rolled her eyes. “I guess we just vibe well together. I’m not looking to date anyone anyway, especially not one of your bandmates.” 

Freddie cocked his head to the side at her response. “What do you mean by that? I have no problem if you dated someone in the band and I’m sure Roger or Deaky wouldn’t mind either.”

Josie placed the shirt with the rest of John’s stagewear. “Are you sure about that? I’m not too sure if Roger wouldn’t mind me dating a band member.” 

“Now why would you say that?” Freddie asked. 

There was a long pause between the two of them. Josie fiddled with a sleeve from another one of John’s shirts and Freddie drummed his fingers on his knee. 

Josie took a deep breath. “Okay, if I tell you, you have to promise me that you won’t tell anyone. Not Jim, not Deaky, not anyone.” Freddie raised an eyebrow at her request, but he promised not to tell anyone.

“Brian and I almost kissed last night.” She confessed. “After the show in the back of the van. Roger caught us as it was happening and I don’t know for sure what he saw. John said that he and Brian were acting weird after I left and I don’t want to cause drama in the band when you guys are about to take off. I can’t do that to you guys.” 

“Why do you think we would disapprove of you and Brian?” Freddie asked. “If anything, I am all for you two getting together, and from what I’ve seen he likes you back.”

Josie laughed. “Of course you would say that, you’re going to need someone to be your double date with you and Jim.” 

Freddie jokingly clutched his chest in pretend shock. “How dare you believe I would set you up for my own gain. I would never do such a thing!”

The pair burst into laughter. Freddie always knew how to lighten her mood, and after this morning’s conversation with Roger she definitely needed it. There weren't ever a lot of fights between them but this was different. The thought of what happened deflated her mood and Freddie could see it on her face. 

“I heard what happened this morning with you and Roger. He told me last night what happened with you and Brian on our way home.” Freddie confessed. “He isn’t upset at you or Brian.”

Josie scoffed. “It didn’t sound like that this morning. He kept saying that I should have told him, and I have no idea what’s going on myself so why would I tell him in the first place?” 

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Just tell him that you needed some time to figure it out yourself before you wanted to tell anyone.” 

Josie sighed and sunk into the couch next to Freddie. “You’re right. Brian and I don’t know what we want to call whatever happened last night and I don’t want to call it anything right now.” 

“Then that’s what you do.” Freddie replied. “It doesn’t have to be anything if neither of you want it to be anything.” 

That advice stuck with Josie. She liked Brian but didn’t want it to be anything at this point in time and that was okay. 

“Thanks Fred.” She pulled herself off the couch. “How long are you here today?” 

“I’m closing up the shop today, so Jim is picking me up at 7.” He replied. 

“Well have fun tonight.” She grinned. “I really hope it goes well, Jim seems like a pretty cool guy and I am really happy for you Fred.” 

For the first time that Josie could see, Freddie blushed at the compliment. It was a rare sight but Josie knew this was a good sign. Everything was going to be okay.

[hailey-with-an-i]

i made a lams one shot a while ago and i figured i’d share it here :)) in which laurens is a caricature artist and he meets alex by chance !

John Laurens hated his fucking job. There was no way to sugarcoat it. He simply couldn’t stand it: the early mornings, the late nights, the large crowds of people… it really wasn’t his scene. Besides, regardless of how big the crowds were, he still only managed to earn close to minimum wage, despite standing in the bitter cold for several hours on end.

This wasn’t how his life was supposed to go. He was supposed to get out of college, make a living selling his art, then get married and have two kids. Technically, he had graduated already, but selling caricatures on the side of a New York City boardwalk was certainly not what he meant by “making a living.” After all, he was still sharing a small apartment- which, keep in mind, was certainly not meant for three people- with his best friend, Lafayette, as well as Lafayette’s boyfriend. He was also still single, but admittedly, that wasn’t the worst of his problems. He was only twenty-three; he knew he still had time.

He didn’t even quite understand how he got into the situation in the first place. Sure, he remembered coming out to his father and getting kicked out of the house, and he remembered begging Lafayette to let him stay with him. But for the life of him, he couldn’t remember how he came to work at this stupid pier. If he’d known what he was getting himself into, he would’ve never even considered applying for a job there, or coming out to his father. At least then he’d still have access to his trust fund.

Maybe that was why he despised working there so much: maybe it was because he got to see all the happy tourists and families come by and make memories that he knew he’d never have the opportunity to make. Or maybe it was because he knew that, even with his many years of experience in the field of art, drawing caricatures was probably going to be the height of his artistic career. Nevertheless, he knew that he still had to get paid, so...

“I’d better be getting paid extra for this,” John whined, leaning his weight against the cotton candy booth next to his. It was run by a constantly hyper Peggy Schuyler, and her older sister Eliza. They had a third sister, too, but she was off in law school while her sisters were still in college. John never quite understood why they worked there, as they were stupidly wealthy, but he also didn’t want to question it; he enjoyed their company anyway.

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, which provided no real source of warmth, and let out a shaky breath. “It’s fucking freezing,” he continued.

“Come on, Jackie,” Eliza retorted, “you know George isn’t gonna be happy if he sees you away from your post.”

“You know what? Fuck this. Fuck George. Why do I have to sit there looking stupid when there’s no one even stopping by?”

Peggy joined the two and giggled, beginning to tangle her fingers into John’s wild curls, which were pulled back into an attempt at a ponytail. “He’s got a point, ‘liza,” the younger girl added.

“Don’t encourage him,” Eliza said, shooting her a look, then directing her attention back to John. “You’ve gotta stop cursing, too. You never know when there’s gonna be kids nearby.”

He sighed. “I know. It’s just frustrating.” He turned on his phone to check the time, then groaned when he realized he still had an hour before he could go home. He trudged over to his own booth and sat down in the wooden stool.

In all honesty, even though he wanted to go home pretty badly, he didn’t mind this part of the day. It was the time of day where things slowed down exponentially. And while that wasn’t good for his wallet necessarily, and it was uneventful at times, it also meant that he could rest his cramping hand until he could go home.

John pulled his phone back out of his pocket and looked on social media, absentmindedly liking the photos in his feed. Each picture was almost identical to the last, so he found himself liking them to occupy his time, not because they were actually interesting.

He smiled when he realized that he’d successfully killed time for thirty minutes. That meant that there were around thirty minutes until he could go home and go to sleep.

“Hey, are you still open?”

John’s head snapped up at the sudden voice, and he was visibly startled. He was getting ready to say, “no, actually,” but he quickly bit his tongue as the man looked at him curiously, a timid smile on his face that made John’s heart skip a beat.

“Yeah, yeah, come have a seat,” John said, gesturing to the stool in front of him. He complied, setting his things down on the ground beside him. John quickly reviewed the script for what he said to customers mentally. He thought it was weird at first that there was a script, but he learned that it actually helped him, especially when he didn’t know what to say… which was a lot.

“Would you like it to be colored or just black and white?” he asked, and watched as the man’s expression turned pensive.

“I’ll just have black and white, please,” he responded. This was fine by John, after all, he wanted to be done as soon as possible.

John reached into his pencil case and grabbed a pencil and a black marker. “So, what’s your name?” John questioned, studying the other man’s face for a second before going to sketch it.

“My name’s Alexander,” he said as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear, “-Hamilton. Alexander Hamilton.”

“Oh, nice! My name’s John Laurens.” An painfully awkward silence loomed over them.“Are you from New York, or are you visiting?” he asked.

Alexander shifted uncomfortably in the stool. “I guess you could say I’m visiting,” he explained. “Is it obvious?”

John shook his head frantically. “No, no, I just wasn’t sure.” That was sort of a lie. He could tell he wasn’t from New York because of the amount of layers he was wearing (sure, John was cold, but Alexander had to be wearing at least four jackets), and because of the slightest hint of an accent in his voice.

“Well, I just came here from the Caribbean, so I’m just trying to find somewhere to live.” John nodded, and decided that he had talked enough for the time being, and that he should focus on finishing the caricature.

As he continued to examine his face, he could help but notice that the man was actually fairly attractive.

His smile was bright and welcoming, that somehow made John feel warm inside despite the freezing temperature. He also took note of the fact that he had wide dark brown eyes, flecked with hazel and gold.

“You have pretty eyes,” John said under his breath. He hadn’t even realized that he’d said it until he heard Hamilton laugh lightheartedly at the comment, and John could feel his face darken with embarrassment. That was definitely not in the script. “God, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”

“No, it’s okay. Thank you. I think you have pretty eyes, too.”

“Oh, uh… thanks…” John wanted to end himself right then and there. He really needed to learn how to filter himself.

“So, how long have you been drawing?” Alexander inquired, and John was thankful that he changed the subject.

“For as long as I can remember,” he told him. “I’ve always loved it. I just love the concept of it, you know? Being able to put something in your brain onto paper.”

“I never really thought of it like that,” Alex shrugged. John grinned crookedly at the man, putting away his pencil and uncapping the black marker to outline the sketch.

“What about you? What do you like to do?”

“Nothing interesting,” Alex said, almost mechanically. “I like writing, and debating, and reading, of course.”

“Why wouldn’t that be interesting?”

Alex stared at the ground awkwardly, running a hand through his thick locks of hair. “I don’t know. Being able to write well isn’t the same as being able to draw well.”

“I’d argue differently,” John replied. “Sure, they’re different categories of hobbies, but I can’t write for shit. I’d give anything to be a good writer.”

“I’m sure you’re just being modest.” John raised an eyebrow at him.

“I barely passed English in high school because I was so bad at writing. That, and I was so focused on art class that I kinda neglected my other classes, but that’s a different story.”

“You should give yourself more credit,” Alexander said. He checked the time on his watch. “I thought these things were supposed to take, like, five minutes? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re dragging this out on purpose.”

Once again, John felt his face burning bright red as he’d realized that he was right. He hadn’t even noticed that he put slightly more detail than he usually did, or that he’d even started to color the picture with crayons he hadn’t even realized he’d taken from his bag.

“Aw, shit,” John whispered, clutching his hair in his hand.

Alex raised his hands in surrender. “Hey, calm down. I was just joking,” he said with amusement. “You know, you’re cute, John Laurens.”

He was almost angry at the beautiful stranger. How dare he make him flustered and tongue-tied with a simple remark? In less than fifteen minutes?

“Thanks,” he choked out, unable to think of anything else to say. “I, uh… I’m pretty much done.”

After a few finishing touches, John was finally satisfied with the way the caricature looked. He put away his art supplies and turned the canvas around to show Alex his caricature.

His heart nearly pounded out of his chest as he was met with Alexander’s awestruck expression. “This is so cool!” he exclaimed, his eyes widening in surprise.

John felt a strange sense of pride, but also relief at the Caribbean man’s reaction. He typically never had to worry about people liking his drawings, but this time felt different. This time, he felt like he had to prove himself to this man that he’d never met before.

“You even made my nose look good! Incredible!” John raised his eyebrows at him.

“What’s wrong with your nose?”

“It’s just so… there. I don’t know.”

“And you said you’re a writer?” John teased, earning a glare from Alex.

“What I mean is that it’s so… protuberant. I hate it.”

“I actually happen to like your nose, thank you very much.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Alex fished into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled twenty dollar bill, placing it into John’s hand.

John stood up from the stool, only to be stopped by Alexander. “Where are you going?”

“Oh, I’m just getting your change. Don’t worry, I’m not charging you for the coloring… that was my bad.” Alex shook his head, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

“No, no, that’s not necessary.”

“But… it’s only ten dollars. Didn’t you see the sign?”

“I saw it. But I want you to keep the change.”

John hesitated, before finally saying, “Are you sure?” Alex gave him another unamused look. “I’m just saying, if you need extra money for a hotel or something, you’re gonna regret giving me extra.”

“I want you to have it, okay?” Alexander clearly wasn’t going to budge, so John gave in and slipped the money into his pocket.

“If you say so…”

Alex stood up and brushed off his clothes, then picked up his things off the ground. “It was really nice meeting you, John.”

“You, too, Alexander.” John felt himself smile at the way his name rolled off his tongue, sweet and smooth like caramel.

He waved goodbye to him with a disappointed frown. His stomach dropped as he watched him walk away, then completely disappear into the crowd of bustling New Yorkers, eager to get home after a long day just like John was.

He wanted to smack himself.

He should’ve asked him on a date, or asked him for his number at least- because there was no way in hell that he would be able to find Alex again.

He didn’t have time to wallow in his own self pity, because he then saw the two sisters walking by his booth.

“Hey John! Get any more customers?” Peggy asked.

John nodded slowly, pulling the wrinkled twenty dollar bill out of his pocket and showing it to them.

“Twenty, huh? I guess today’s your lucky day.”

“I guess,” John mumbled, going to put the money back in his pocket. As he was doing so, he saw a small piece of paper fly out from in between the folds of the dollar, landing on the cement. He furrowed his eyebrows, bewildered, and bent over to pick up the piece of paper.

It was a sticky note, John had suddenly realized. He unfolded it reluctantly, unsure of why his heartbeat accelerated so much, only to see a set of digits- that he could tell were hastily scribbled down- next to a name.

“Alexander,” he whispered inaudibly, a wide smile growing on his face as he stared at the messily written numbers on the sticky note.

It was then that John concluded that maybe his job wasn’t as bad as he thought.

[spn-safeandsound]

06. Strong Abilities

Safe and Sound

Dean Winchester x Original Character

Episode: 1x09; Home

Word Count: 9, 163

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence and gore

Author’s Note: Hope you enjoy! Don’t forget to reblog and like!

Masterlist in Profile Description!

Julia loved blue and purple. The bands that she used to tie up her hair were royal blue. Her toothbrush was turquoise. Her hunter's journal was navy. Her luggage was dark purple. Her favorite sundress was lavender. Her sexiest bra was lilac.

So, it made sense that her absolute favorite color was periwinkle—the perfect shade of blue and purple together. The problem was that it was hard to find anything that came in periwinkle and that frustrated the hell out of her. So, when she saw a bottle of periwinkle nail polish at the store when they went to pick up some supplies, she got three bottles. Sam had given her an incredulous look but she very pointedly ignored it.

She was just finishing up the second coat on her nails when Dean spoke up from the other side of the table, having done a search for cases all morning.

"All right, I've been cruising some websites and I think I found a few candidates for our next gig," he told her and Sam, who was sitting on his bed sketching. "A fishing trawler found off the coast of Cali. Its crew vanished. And, uh, we got some cattle mutilations in West Texas."

Julia hummed. Calf mutilations? Lovely.

"Hey," Julia looked up when Dean spoke but he was looking at Sam, who didn't seem to be paying attention. "Am I boring you with this hunting evil stuff?"

"No, I'm listening," Sam assured him while continuing to draw. "Keep going."

"And here, in Sacramento man shot himself in the head three times," Dean held up three fingers at his brother but when Sam didn't look up, he waved for his attention. "Any of these things blowing up your skirt, pal?"

Sam didn't answer as he flipped back to the other drawings he had sketched, so Julia shrugged, "I think the last one is interesting."

Dean nodded, satisfied that she had answered him at least. "I guess we're going to Sacramento then, shortcake."

Julia gave him a small smile and screwed the periwinkle top back on the bottle of the polish before grabbed the clear coat, brushing it on her nails. She was getting better with Dean after all that happened in St. Louis with the shifter that took his face. It was slow-going but it took about a month until they were mostly back to normal. The usual things he did, like poking her dimple or patching up her injuries were done with hesitation but he slowly got back to the regular intervals. She returned the favor by tapping him on the back or playfully punching his bicep. She still had nightmares but they were getting better, especially since things were getting better with Dean.

"Wait, I've seen this," Sam declared when he turned to his very first drawing of the same old creepy tree.

Dean gave him a weird look. "Seen what?"

Sam rolled off his bed and walked across the motel room, digging into his duffel bag. He pulled John's journal out of it and slapped it down on Dean's bed so he could go through it.

"Sam, is something wrong?" Julia asked, sensing that something was off about him. He was jumpy and kind of frantic as he searched through the photos in the front flap of the journal.

Sam absentmindedly nodded and finally pulled out a picture, comparing it to the notepad he had sketched on. He turned to Dean with wide eyes. "Dean, I know where we have to go next."

Dean eyed him curiously. "Where?"

"Back home. Back to Kansas."

Dean scoffed. "Okay, random. Where'd that come from?"

"All right, this photo was taken in front of our old house, right?" Sam handed the picture he took from the journal and handed it to Dean; the photo was of Dean and Sam when they were a child and a baby, respectively, with their dad and their mother, Mary. "The house where Mom died?"

"Yeah..."

"And it didn't burn down, right?" Sam went on quickly. "I mean, not completely. They rebuilt, right?"

"I guess so," Dean looked a little overwhelmed at Sam's questions. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Okay, look," Sam sat at the seat in the middle of Julia and Dean. "this is gonna sound crazy but the people who live in our old house? I think they might be in danger."

Julia furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "Why do think that?"

"Uh...it's just...um," Sam grimaced nervously; Julia instantly knew that he had been keeping something from them—something important. "you guys have to just trust me on this, okay?"

"Sam, of course we trust you," Julia gave him a concerned look as he jumped up and crossed the room, starting to pack his bag. She really hoped that she didn't sound condescending because she didn't mean to. She was genuinely worried about him.

"Woah, hold on," Dean narrowed his eyes at his brother. "I think you gotta give us more of an explanation than that."

"I can't," Sam shoved his phone and laptop charger in his bag after he was done with his clothes.

"Well, tough," Dean got up to walk over to him. "I'm not going anywhere until you do."

Sam sighed heavily and paused his packing, turning to face him. "I have these nightmares..."

Dean nodded. "I've noticed."

No kidding, Julia thought. There had hardly been a night that she wasn't woken up by Sam's tossing and turning while he had his nightmares. She didn't blame him, of course, because she had her fair share, too. She just wished their bad dreams would sync up so they wouldn't wake each other up at different times.

"And sometimes they come true," Sam dropped a bomb.

Okay, that was unexpected. He had never given any hint that he was experiencing visions. She honestly wondered what it was like; she didn't see the things she knew, she just knew them.

"Come again?"

"Look, Dean," Sam sighed at Dean's look of disbelief. "I dreamt about Jessica's death for days before it happened."

That would explain why he had said that Bloody Mary would come after him. He wasn't to blame but if he actually thought that it was his fault Jess died because he didn't do anything about the nightmares he had, the spirit would have gone after him. And it did.

"Sam, some people have weird dreams," Dean tried to explain, sitting at the end of his bed. "I'm sure it's just a coincidence."

"No, I dreamt about the blood dripping, her on the ceiling, the fire, everything," Sam elaborated. "and I didn't do anything about it cause I didn't believe it. Now, I'm dreaming about that tree, about our house, and about some woman inside screaming for help. I mean, that's where it all started, man, this had to mean something, right?"

Dean bowed his head, shaking it slightly. "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know, Dean?" Sam sat on the bed across from him. "This woman might be in danger. I mean, this might even be the thing that killed Mom and Jessica!"

Julia watched the brothers silently, not knowing what to say or whether she had a right to say anything at all. The air in the room was tense, making her spine stiffen, and both Sam and Dean were getting riled up. Sam was urgent; he wanted to go to Kansas and he wanted to go now. There was nothing that was going to change his mind. From the set of his shoulders, Julia could tell that Dean was struggling with the concept of returning to the only home he ever really had. He was just as sensitive about Mary Winchester's death as John was and he mourned her every day.

"All right, just slow down, would you?" Overwhelmed, Dean snapped at him, standing up to walk toward the table to get some space from his brother. "I mean, first you tell me you've got the Shining and then you tell me that I've gotta go back home? Especially when..."

Dean cut himself off sharply, his breath hitching. Julia felt her heart ache at the despair that practically wafted off of him.

"When what?" Sam asked.

"When I swore to myself that I would never go back there."

Dean abruptly turned around, hiding his grieved expression from his little brother. He didn't seem to realize that he was now facing Julia until it was too late. His face went blank—though his green eyes were still so sad—and she gave him a sad smile to show him that she was there for him if he needed her.

It wasn't the same kind of situation, but Dean had been so supportive of her over the past month. She owed it to him to be there for him, too.

"Look, Dean," Sam's tone softened significantly, realizing why his brother was so reluctant about going back to Kansas. "we have to check this out. Just to make sure."

Dean swallowed harshly, the muscle in his jaw working. "I know we do."

-

They arrived in Lawrence, Kansas around nine the next day. The ride was very quiet even with the rock music playing and Dean definitely didn't blast it like most days. The closer they got to the Winchester's old neighborhood, the more tense Dean got, the air shifting around him anxiously.

Dean pulled over to the curb across their old house, shutting off the Impala. He stared at the house, where there was no sign of the fire, dread. He was clearly rethinking the decision to come here.

"You gonna be all right, man?" Sam asked, noticing his brother's stare.

Dean pressed his lips together. "Let me get back to you on that."

The three of them got out of the car and crossed the street to the house. Julia hung back to walk with Dean, ignoring her slight uneasiness to briefly grab his hand and squeeze reassuringly. Dean's lips quirked slightly and he returned the action before pulling his hand away to stuff it in his jacket.

As Sam knocked on the door, she saw the tree that he had been drawing the day before.

A blonde woman older than all three of them opened the door. "Yes?"

"Sorry, to bother you, ma'am, but we're with the Federal—"

"I'm Sam Winchester," Sam cut off Dean to introduce them politely. "this is my brother, Dean, and our friend, Julia. Dean and I used to live here. You know, we were just driving by and we were wondering if we could come see the old place."

"Winchester," the woman breathed thoughtfully. "That is so funny. You know, I think I found some of your photos the other night."

Dean looked surprised. "You did?"

The woman nodded. "Come on in," she invited them into the house. "I'm Jenny."

"Nice to meet you," Julia smiled politely as she and the brothers entered the house and followed her through a hallway. "Thanks for letting us take a look around."

"No problem," Jenny nodded as they entered the kitchen. There was a little girl around six or so sitting at the table coloring, while a blonde toddler jumped up and down in a playpen, cheering for juice.

"That's Richie," she told Julia and the brothers as she took a sippy cup of juice over to the little boy. "He's kind of a juice junkie. But hey, at least he won't get scurvy."

Julia smiled and waved at the little boy, watching as he smiled in satisfaction when he popped the sippy-part into his mouth and started drinking. He was such a cutie.

"Sari," Jenny put her hands on her daughter's shoulders. "This is Julia, Sam, and Dean. The boys used to live here."

Sari smiled shyly. "Hi."

"Hi, Sari," Julia grinned at her while Sam and Dean waved.

"So," Dean looked to Jenny. "you just moved in?"

"Yeah, from Wichita."

"Do you have family in the area?" Julia wondered. Lawrence was kind of a small town, so it was hard to believe that someone would move here out of nowhere. Then again, Wichita was only two hours south.

"No," Jenny frowned. "We just, uh—we needed a fresh start, that's all. A new town, new job—I mean, as soon as I find one—and a new house."

"How are you liking it so far?" Sam asked as Jenny grabbed the empty plate by Sari's coloring book and took it to the sink.

"Well, uh, all due respect to your childhood home—I mean I'm sure you had lots of happy memories here—" Jenny started hesitantly; Dean smiled weakly. "—but this place has its issues."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's just getting old," she shrugged. "Like the wiring, you know? We've got flickering lights almost hourly."

"Oh, that's too bad," Dean said. "What else?"

"Um, the sink's backed up, there's rats in the basement..." when Dean grimaced softly, she trailed off. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to complain."

"No," Dean waved her off. "Have you seen the rats or have you just heard scratching?"

"Just the scratching, actually."

"Mom?" Sari spoke up quietly. "Ask them if it was here when they lived here."

Julia frowned in concern. "What, Sari?"

Hesitantly, Sari elaborated, "The thing in my closet."

"Oh, no, baby, there was nothing in their closets," Jenny assured her daughter before looking up at Sam and Dean pointedly. "Right?"

"Right," Sam nodded. "No, of course not."

"She had a nightmare the other night."

"I wasn't dreaming," Sari insisted indignantly. "It came into my bedroom and it was on fire."

On either side of her, Julia felt the brothers stiffen.

-

"Did you hear that?" Sam asked Dean as the three of them quickly walked out of their old house. "A figure on fire."

"And Jenny was the woman in your dream that needed help?" Julia asked him while Dean stared down at the ground as he walked, keeping quiet about what he had heard. He definitely did not want to believe that whatever killed his mom had stuck around afterwards.

"Yeah," Sam confirmed. "and did you hear what she was talking about? Scratching, flickering lights...both signs of a malevolent spirit."

When Dean looked up, Sam was looking at him expectantly. "Yeah, well, I'm just freaked out that your weirdo visions are coming true."

"Well, forget about that for a minute," Sam insisted as they crossed the street to the Impala. "The thing in the house, do you think it's the thing that killed Mom and Jessica?"

"I don't know!" Dean snapped.

"Well, has it come back or has it been here the whole time?" Sam matched the volume of his voice, becoming heated.

"Or maybe it's something else entirely, Sam!" Dean stopped by his door and faced his brother head-on, his eyes hard. "We don't know yet!"

"Those people are in danger, Dean! We have to get them out of that house!"

"And we will."

"No, I mean now."

Dean scoffed. "And how are you gonna do that, huh? You got a story that she's gonna believe?"

"Then what are we supposed to do?!"

"Guys!" Julia stepped in between them, looking around to make sure no one around the neighborhood was watching the brothers freak out at each other. "Stop shouting at each other."

She gave them pointed looks and got two angry glares in return.

"I know that this is difficult but you can't turn on each other," she advised, ignoring their ire. "We should leave and figure out what the hell is actually going on."

"But—"

"Stop talking, Samuel William," Julia gave him a hard look; Sam's face fell and Dean smirked at him. "I can first-and-middle-name you, too, Dean Jonah."

Dean scowled.

"Get in the car," she ordered as she opened the back door and slid into her seat.

She didn't like going all mom-mode on two grown ass men but she didn't know how else to get them to calm down and look at the case rationally. They were emotional about it and she didn't blame them but if they were going to save Jenny and her kids, they needed to pull themselves together.

If she could do this case by herself to save the boys the heartache, she would. But she couldn't—Sam and Dean knew way more stuff than she did and, knowing them, they probably wouldn't stay out of it anyway.

Thoroughly chastised, the brothers got into the Impala. Minutes later, they were pulling up to a gas station so Dean could fill the tank. Thankfully, the ride had given them time to think and calm down, which led to Dean to make a realization.

"We just gotta chill out, that's all," he told Sam and Julia as he pumped gas into the car. "You know, if this was any other kind of job, what would we do? Any ideas, Junior?"

Julia knew that he was testing her and she was going to rise to the occasion. "We'd try to figure out what we're dealing with," she answered. "and dig into the history of the house."

"Exactly," Dean nodded. "Except this time, we already know what happened."

"Yeah but how much do we know?" Sam spoke up as he leaned against the car. "I mean, how much do you actually remember?"

"About that night, you mean?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

"Not much. I remember the fire...the heat," Dean recalled quietly, his gaze far off in the distance like he was watching it in his head. "and then I carried you out the front door."

Julia frowned; so much responsibility had been placed on Dean at such a young age. From the moment he carried Sam out of that house, he had become his brother's caretaker and hadn't stopped since. Julia wished that the boys had a normal childhood like she had but, despite the fact that they didn't, they turned out to be great men.

Sam looked at Dean, surprised by his admission. "You did?"

"Yeah," Dean confirmed, looking over at him. "What, you never knew that?"

Sam shook his head. "No."

"Oh," Dean pressed on. "and, uh, well, you know Dad's story as well as I do. Mom was...she was on the ceiling and whatever put her there was long gone by the time Dad found her."

"And he never had a theory about what did it?"

"If he did, he kept it to himself," Dean said quietly, pulling the gas hose out of the gas tank to put it back on the pump. "God knows we asked him enough times."

"Okay, so, if we're gonna figure out what's going on now, we have to figure out what happened back then," Sam sighed.

"And see if it's the same thing," Julia added.

"Yeah," Dean confirmed. "We'll talk to Dad's friends, neighbors, people who were there at the time."

Sam scoffed softly and gave his brother a sad look. "Does this feel like another job to you?"

Dean didn't answer him, his lips quirking into the smallest and saddest smile that Julia had ever seen on him. "I'll be right back," he said instead. "I gotta go to the bathroom."

He walked off around the side of the gas station before Sam—or Julia, for that matter—could say another word or ask another question. Julia turned to Sam with a sad, sympathetic smile, and wrapped a supportive arm around his waist.

"How are you feeling?"

With Sam, she had always made more headway if she asked him how he was, rather than start right in. Sam could express his emotions far better than Dean could but he had to be in the right mind frame and ready to talk on his own. Sam did the same thing with her—it was cheaper than paying for therapy since they were both empathetic and gave good advice.

Sam sighed heavily. "I'm dealing," he told her. "I'm worried about Dean."

"Me too," she leaned her head against the top of his arm.

"You should talk to him," he suggested; Julia pulled away and gave him a confused look. "He would talk to you more than he would me."

"He's your brother, Sam."

"Well, you're his friend," Sam pointed out. "and he doesn't like talking about his feelings."

"What makes you think he would talk about them with me?"

"Because you're Julia," he said simply.

It didn't make a whole lot of sense but she agreed to talk to Dean anyway. She left the Impala to make her way around the gas station to wait for Dean outside of the bathroom. To her surprise, Dean was leaning against the brick wall, eyes clenched shut and his phone pressed against his forehead.

"Dean?"

Dean's eyes blinked open and he straightened himself, putting his phone in his jacket. "Yeah, what's up?"

Julia's chest tightened when she saw that his eyes were tinged a little red. She sighed sadly and stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him. She rested her head on his chest as he slowly returned the gesture, his chin sitting on top of her head.

"It's gonna be okay," she rubbed circles with her thumb on his back. "It hurts, I know."

Dean was quiet but she could feel his heavy breathing blow against her hair.

"It's okay to be sad."

Like a switch flipped at her words, Dean unwrapped himself from her and shoved his hands into his pockets. "I wanna be there for Sam."

"I know you do," she nodded, smiling softly up at him. "but Sam wants to be there for you, too, you know. I do, too."

The dimples at the corner of his lips deepened in emotion. She was pretty sure he wasn't going to say much but from the way his shoulders relaxed only slightly, she knew that he heard her and appreciated what she was saying.

"Come on," she grabbed his hand and tugged. "Where do you think we should go first?"

"Uh, probably the garage Dad worked at," Dean sighed as they started walking back to the car. "He co-owned it. Pretty much all of his friends worked there."

"Okay," Julia nodded, seeing that Sam had slid back into his seat to wait for them to come back to the car. "Do you remember where it is?"

Dean nodded.

The auto repair garage that John used to own with Keith Guenther was only a couple streets away from the gas station. Keith was a nice man with a belly and receding hairline who easily agreed to answer questions as they posed as state police.

"So, you and John Winchester, you used to own this garage together?" Dean asked as Keith led them through the garage where a couple mechanics were working.

"Yeah, we used to a long time ago," Keith confirmed before hesitating, "Matter of fact, it must be, uh, twenty years since John disappeared. Why are the cops interested all of a sudden?"

"We're re-opening some of our cold cases," Julia informed him with a polite smile. "The Winchester disappearance is one of them."

"Oh," Keith bought her lie. "Well, what do you want to know about John?"

"Well, whatever you remember," Dean told him. "You know, whatever sticks out in your mind."

"Well," he put his hands on his hips. "he was a stubborn bastard, I remember that," he chuckled. "And, uh, whatever the game, he hated to lose, you know? It's that whole Marine thing."

Dean and Sam nodded, exchanging a knowing look.

"But, oh, he sure loved Mary," Keith's smile fell. "and he doted on those kids."

Sam seemed surprised by that. "But that was before the fire?"

Keith nodded. "That's right."

"He ever talk about that night?"

"No, not at first," Keith answered Sam. "I think he was in shock."

"Did he eventually say anything about it?" Julia cocked her head curiously.

"Oh, he wasn't thinking straight," Keith shook his head slightly. "He said, uh, something caused that fire and killed Mary."

"Did he ever say what did it?" Dean wondered.

Keith shook his head. "Nothing did it. It was an accident—an electrical short in the ceiling or walls or something," he sighed. "I begged him to get some help, but..."

"But what?"

"He just got worse and worse."

"How?" Dean insisted.

"He started reading these strange old books," Keith recalled. "He started going to see this palm reader in town."

Julia raised an eyebrow. "Do you know the name of the palm reader?"

Keith scoffed. "No."

"Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Guenther," Sam shook his hand politely. "We'll see ourselves out."

"No problem."

-

"All right, so, there are a few psychics and palm readers in town," Sam sighed, looking down at the local phone book that was supplied at a public phone. "There's someone named El Divino. There's uh—" he laughed. "—the Mysterious Mister Fortinsky. Uh, Missouri Moseley. Some dude named—"

"Wait, wait," Dean interrupted, his face lit up in recognition. "Missouri Moseley?"

Sam gave him a curious look. "What?"

"That's a psychic?"

Sam looked back to the phone book. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, I guess so."

Dean opened the back door behind his seat, pulling out John's journal. "Dad's journal," he told Sam. "Here, look at this."

He opened the journal and went to the first page, holding it out to Sam. Sam set the phone book back down by the phone and walked over to Julia and Dean, taking the journal to see what Dean was talking about.

"First page, first sentence," Dean informed him, pointing at the page. "Read that."

Sam's eyes landed on the sentence. "I went to Missouri and I learned the truth."

Dean shrugged. "I always thought he meant the state."

Julia wrinkled her nose and took the journal from Sam, reading the entry for herself. It could be nothing but she found herself agreeing with Dean. It was too much of a coincidence that John had started seeing a palm reader in town and there happened to be one name that matched the first sentence of his hunter's journal.

She looked at Sam. "Was there an address?"

There was an address in the phone book and, luckily, Lawrence wasn't that big. Dean found the house where Missouri lived easily without stopping for directions. There was a cute little business sign in front of the house and a cozy waiting area for them to sit in while she finished up with her current appointment.

A black woman with the softest voice that Julia had ever heard escorted a middle-aged man out of her living room only ten minutes after they arrived.

"All right, there," she told him as she opened the door for him to leave. "Don't you worry about a thing. Your wife is crazy about you."

The man gave her his genuine thanks and, when the door was shut firmly behind him, she turned to Julia, Sam, and Dean. "Poor bastard. His woman is cold-banging the gardener."

"Why didn't you tell him?" Dean asked her, slightly amused.

"People don't come here for the truth, they come for good news," Missouri told him, pausing on her way to the living room. "Well, Sam, Dean, Julia...I ain't got all day."

Julia raised her eyebrows, impressed. "She knew our names," she whispered excitedly to Sam and Dean, standing from her seat on the couch. "She knew who we were."

"Calm down, shortcake," Dean grunted as the three of them made their way into the living room.

Julia rolled her eyes at him and turned to Missouri, already finding the woman staring at them.

"Well, let me look at ya," she laughed joyfully, looking between the three of them. "Oh, you boys grew up handsome. And you—" she pointed at Dean. "—were one goofy looking kid, too."

Julia's mouth fell open in amusement, looking over at Dean with bright eyes. Dean grimaced, looking uncomfortable, but relaxed when Missouri moved onto Julia.

"You look like your momma, girlie," she observed Julia carefully. "Petersen dimple and all. None of your daddy in you."

"You knew my dad?" Julia looked at her in shock.

"We've kept in touch over the years. He and Hannah used to live the town over," Missouri said; Julia's eyebrows furrowed—Hannah had been her dad's little sister who died a year before she was born. "Ooh, you got something special girl. I can feel your sensitivity."

Julia was quiet from the shock of all that Missouri knew about her. She hadn't known that her dad lived in Eudora because he hadn't said anything about it before. It was so strange that the Alexanders lived only a town over from the Winchesters but only met a few years later.

"Sam," Missouri touched his hand as Julia and Dean shared shocked looks and gave him a sympathetic look. "Oh, honey, I'm sorry about your girlfriend...and your father...he's missing?"

Another shock. None of them had said anything about John or the fact that they were looking for him—and Sam certainly hadn't shared about the death of his girlfriend.

"How'd you know all that?" he asked her, surprised.

"Well, you were thinking it just now."

Sam raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

"Well, where is he?" Dean asked hurriedly. "Is he okay?"

Missouri furrowed her eyebrows and shook her head. "I don't know."

"Don't know?" Dean repeated. "Well, you're supposed to be psychic, right?"

"Dean!"

"Boy, you see me sawing some bony tramp in half?" Missouri snapped at him. "You think I'm a magician?"

Dean went to defend himself but she kept going.

"I may be able to read thoughts and sense energies in the room but I can't just pull facts out of thin air. Sit, please," she said in one breath, nodding at the couch. Julia, Dean, and Sam all sat on the couch, the oldest man thoroughly chastised. "Boy, you put your foot on my coffee table I'm gonna whack you with a spoon!"

Dean's eyes widened at the finger she pointed at him. "I didn't do anything!"

"But you were thinking it," she retorted; Dean raised his eyebrows and Julia and Sam shared a smirk, amused that someone was setting him straight.

Julia looked around the living room with interest, taking in the homey decorations. She felt a little odd, like there was a sort of nostalgia that she couldn't place. She chalked it up to being in a stranger's presence.

"Okay, so," Sam cleared his throat. "our dad...When did you first meet him?"

"He came for a reading a few days after the fire," Missouri looked uncomfortable speaking about her encounters with John. "I just told him what was really out there in the dark. I guess you could say I drew back the curtains for him."

"What about the fire?" Dean asked her seriously. "Do you know about what killed our mom?"

"A little," Missouri admitted. "Your daddy took me to your house. He was hoping I could sense the echoes, the fingerprints of the thing."

Julia bit her lip nervously. "And could you?"

"I—" she cut herself off, shaking her head.

"What is it?" Sam asked softly, looking at her with pleading eyes.

"I don't know," she confessed. "Oh, but it was evil."

"Mrs. Moseley—"

"Please, it's Missouri," the older woman told Julia.

"Sorry...Missouri, we came to Lawrence because..." Julia trailed off, giving Sam a hesitant look. How could she explain why they were in Kansas when they couldn't have known about what was going on at the Winchester's old house.

"Because Sam had a vision," Missouri finished for her, not needing a rundown when she could hear their thoughts. "So, you think something is back in the house?"

Julia nodded. "Yes."

Missouri sighed. "I don't understand..."

"What?" Sam gave her a confused look.

"I haven't been back inside but I've been keeping an eye on the place. It's been quiet," Missouri told them. "No sudden deaths, no freak accidents...Why is it acting up now?"

"I don't know," Sam looked down at the carpet covering the floors. "but Dad going missing, Jessica dying, and now this house all happening at once? It just feels like something's starting."

Dean pressed his lips together. "That's a comforting thought."

-

Julia knocked on the door of the Winchester's old home, tapping her foot as she waited next to Missouri on the front step. Now that they were back at the house, Julia felt a little off. She didn't know if it was because Missouri's presence was strengthening whatever sensitivity—as the older woman called it—she had but she felt a weird energy around the house that didn't seem human.

It was making her anxious.

Jenny opened the door, looking upset and clutching Richie tightly against her chest. "Sam, Dean, Julia," she greeted them in confusion. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey, Jenny," Sam greeted her gently, noticing how upset she was. "This is our friend, Missouri."

Missouri nodded at her in greeting.

"If it's not too much trouble, we were hoping to show her the old house," Dean requested. "You know, for old time's sake."

"No, you know, this isn't a good time," Jenny denied them politely, her eyes sparkling with tears. "I'm kind of busy."

"Listen, Jenny, it's important—"

Missouri smacked Dean on the side of the head, causing him to grimace and grunt in pain. "Give the poor girl a break. Can't you see she's upset?" she snapped at him before turning to Jenny with an apologetic look on her face. "Forgive this boy, he means well but he's not the sharpest tool in the shed...but hear me out."

"About what?" Jenny asked, confused.

"About this house."

A flash of fear flickered in Jenny's eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"I think you know what I'm talking about," Missouri said knowingly. "You think there's something in this house. Something that wants to hurt your family, am I mistaken?"

Jenny stiffened. "Who are you?"

"We're people who can help," Julia spoke up, giving her a supportive smile. "We can stop this thing but you have to trust us a little."

Jenny reluctantly let them in. Missouri explained a little about who she was and what she did to Jenny. When Jenny was able to absorb that something was going on in her house that she didn't understand, she allowed them to go upstairs so Missouri could see if she felt any energies that didn't belong.

Missouri led them to the last room in the hall; it was painted light blue with stickers placed here and there on the walls and a butterfly comforter on the bed. Julia assumed that this was Sari's bedroom.

"If there's a dark energy around here, this room should be the center of it," Missouri told them as she looked around the room carefully.

"Why?" Sam asked.

"This used to be your nursery, Sam," she answered him. "This is where it all happened."

Julia's eyes immediately went to the ceiling like she was expecting there to be a mark or sign of Mary's horrific death. There was nothing and it was had a nice beam design, which relieved her. When she saw Dean look up, too, she grabbed his hand and gripped it tightly.

Dean pulled his EMF device from his jacket with his free hand, taking the comfort Julia offered. As the device buzzed and lit up, Missouri looked over at him.

"Is that an EMF?" she asked. Dean nodded, causing her to scoff. "Amateur."

Dean glared at her and Sam nudged him, silently warning him to behave and get along with her.

"Come here, Julia," Missouri spoke up, looking over at the youngest of the group who was fidgeting nervously. Julia gave her a confused look, let go of Dean's hand, and walked over to her. "I can feel your aura reaching out. You can sense something, can't you?"

Julia nodded jerkily, briefly glancing back at Sam and Dean to see that they were looking at them with confusion. Missouri was right; she did sense something. It was faint but it made her scared.

She didn't know exactly how to explain it but it was like she could feel the darkness in the room. It was pulsing with negativity and wickedness that had her scalp tingling and her hands shaking. She had never been afraid of her abilities—if that's what they actually were—but this made her afraid.

Missouri gave her a knowing look. "I want you to take a deep breath in," she instructed her. "and then slowly exhale. Really focus on what your mind and body are telling you."

Julia did as she was told, closing her eyes, taking in a deep breath, and slowly letting it out. She flinched from the violence she felt—whatever was here wanted to kill and it was stubborn. But...there was also something else. It was hidden by the dark presence but she could feel a slight gentleness from it.

When she opened her eyes, Missouri nodded at her before turning to the brothers who had been silently watching both of them.

"I don't know if you boys should be disappointed or relieved," she told them. "but this ain't the thing that took your mom."

"Wait, are you sure?" Sam stiffened, sure that there was something bad among them; Missouri nodded. "How do you know?"

"It isn't the same energy I felt the last time I was here," she explained. "It's something different."

"What is it?" Dean pressed her as she walked over to the closet and opened it.

"I think there's more than one," Julia spoke up hesitantly; Dean and Sam's eyes flashed over to her. "I mean, that's what I felt."

"Well, you'd be right," Missouri confirmed for her as she stood in the middle of the walk-in closet.

Dean stiffened. "What are they doing here?"

"They're here because of what happened to your family," Missouri informed Sam and Dean. "You see, all those years ago, real evil came to you. It walked this house. That kind of evil leaved wounds and, sometimes, wounds get infected."

Sam shook his head. "I don't understand."

"This place is a magnet for paranormal energy," she elaborated. "It's attracted a poltergeist. A nasty one that won't rest until Jenny and her babies are dead."

"And you and Julia said that there was more than one spirit," Sam pointed out, hoping that the other spirit was something that would be taken care of easier than a poltergeist.

Missouri turned to Julia, gesturing for her to explain herself to her friends.

"It's hard to make it out," Julia intertwined her fingers and squeezed her hands together. "but I don't think it's as bad as the poltergeist."

Sam and Dean were quiet after Julia's observation; Missouri walked out of the closet, making her way back over to them.

"Well, one thing's for damn sure," Dean said firmly. "nobody's dying in this house ever again. So, whatever is here, how do we stop it?"

-

Julia, Dean, Sam, and Missouri arrived back at Jenny's house just around sunset. They were armed with hex bags full of angelica root, van-van oil, crossroad dirt, and more ingredients that Missouri didn't elaborate on. They needed to put the bags in each of the four corners of the house—north, south, east, and west—and they would be able to destroy the spirits hanging around unwanted.

While Missouri ushered Jenny, Sari, and Richie safely away from the house for the night, Julia, Sam, and Dean split up the levels of the house. Sam and Missouri would get the basement and hit up the south and east ends while Dean got the north end on the main floor and Julia was appointed the west corner on the second floor.

Julia firmly held onto the mallet and plastic pipe in her hands as she walked up the stairs and to the room furthest to the west. The room was clearly Jenny's—the walls were covered in dark floral wallpaper and had a king-sized bed shoved against the most western wall.

She walked to the side of the bed nearest to the window. Tapping the plastic pipe against the wall to find a spot where there were no studs, she kneeled down to get to work. She found a place close to the floorboard to put the hex bag and went to smash through the drywall with the mallet when something slid around her neck.

Julia squeaked in pain as the lamp cord tightened around her neck, harshly pulling onto her back. She hit the floor with a hard thud, reaching up to try to pry the wire from around her neck. Her air was running out as she tried to dig her fingers under the cord but it tightened and tightened until there was no room for her fingers to slip underneath.

Her lungs ached and she was sure she let out an inhuman noise as she struggled to reach for the hex bag in her cardigan pocket. She gasped loudly, trying to get more air into her trachea but it was too hard.

She could feel her pulse pounding behind her eyes as her body fought for the oxygen it was deprived of. She had heard before that suffocating to death was peaceful but she thought it was bullshit. Every part of her body hurt from lack of oxygen, especially her lungs and the muscles around her neck where the cord was practically attached to her skin.

Nothing was peaceful about it and she had a morbid thought as her body went slack. This was what it felt like for her mom when she was suffering from her lung cancer. The horrible disease had made it so Naomi couldn't breathe and was forced to use a machine that did it for her.

"Julia!"

Julia wheezed loudly as Dean collapsed at her side, reaching for the cord wrapped tightly around her neck. She tried to help him, Dean grunting with effort but the poltergeist was too strong for both of them.

Knowing that the cord wasn't going to budge as long as the poltergeist had its power, Dean pulled away from her weak body and searched for the flimsy pocket he saw her put the hex bag in before she went upstairs. He moved the cardigan over and found the bag, pulling it out of the pocket and lunging at the wall.

Dean kicked the wall a few inches from the trim, making a huge hole in the drywall. He hurriedly placed the bag into the enclosed area, making the room flash with a bright light that had him turning away to protect his eyes.

Julia wheezed again as the cord relaxed against her throat. Dean hurried toward her and knelt down, quickly unwrapping it from around her neck where a dark red line was forming.

"It's okay," Dean pulled her up toward his chest so he had easier access to the cord that somehow knotted behind her neck. Julia breathed deeply, her lungs aching and feeling bruised as they expanded with air.

She almost fell back against the floor, completely exhausted and too weak to move, when Dean had to take his hands from her to throw away the cord but he quickly caught her again. His hand was on the back of her head, pushing her face into the crook of his neck; Julia inhaled his intoxicating scent, relieved that he was there to help her in time.

Julia blinked sluggishly and finally closed her eyes, falling into a slight sleep.

When she woke, an hour had passed. The spirits were supposed to be gone, with all four hex bags in their places in the walls, but Julia still felt uneasy. Something at the back of her head told her that they weren't gone but waiting for them to leave so they could attack Jenny, Sari, and Richie.

Sam felt the same; he turned to Missouri. "You're sure this is over?"

"I'm sure," Missouri confirmed as she looked around the kitchen that was messy from Dean's confrontation with the poltergeist. "Why do you ask?"

If Missouri was sure that the spirits were gone, Julia had to believe her, right? She didn't have the experience that the older woman had so there couldn't be a way that she was right about the spirits still being in the house.

Sam shook his head. "Never mind. It's nothing, I guess."

Julia leaned her head against Dean's upper arm and he allowed her to stay, neither of them minding the company and the comfort that it brought them. She eyed Sam curiously, wondering if he felt the same way as her, but he didn't speak up.

That brought something to mind, though; how did Sam know all of this stuff? How did he have visions? Before today, Julia had signs that she had special knowledge and abilities but Sam? According to him, he'd been without these visions his whole life until a few weeks before Jess died. So, what the hell was going on?

The front door opened. "Hello? We're home."

Within seconds, Jenny and Sari walked into the kitchen—Richie being in the former's arms—and looked around wide-eyed at the mess they had made.

"What happened?" Jenny asked, shocked.

"Sorry," Julia croaked hoarsely in greeting. "We'll pay for all of this."

"Don't you worry," Missouri assured her. "Dean's gonna clean up this mess."

Dean gave her an affronted look, not moving a muscle.

Missouri wasn't having it. "What are you waiting for, boy?" she shrilled. "Get the mop and don't you cuss at me!"

Hours later, after Dean cleaned up the kitchen—Sam reluctantly helping a little bit—the three of them sat in the Impala outside the house. Missouri had left, confident that everything was over, but Sam and Julia silently conferred and confessed that they felt differently.

They convinced Dean that they needed to keep watch just in case something happened, not entirely being truthful about the reason.

"All right," Dean spoke up among the chirping of crickets. "So, tell me again, what are we still doing here?"

"I don't know," Sam sighed, staring at the house. "I just...I still have a bad feeling."

"Why?" Dean gave him a confused look. "Missouri did her whole Zelda-Rubenstein thing. The house should be clean; it should be over."

"Maybe," Julia rested her head against the cool window. "but I have the same feeling as him. That can't be a coincidence."

"We just wanna make sure everything is all right."

"Yeah, well, the problem is I could be sleeping in a bed right now," Dean grumbled.

"Dean."

For some reason when Julia said his name in that tone, he always quieted down.

"...Shutting up."

"Dean, Julia, look!" Sam suddenly exclaimed, pointing at the house.

The two of them quickly looked over, spotting Jenny pounding the window in her bedroom on the second floor. They scrambled out of the car, running toward the house at full speed.

"You two grab the kids," Dean ordered as he ran up the front steps. "I'll get Jenny."

He kicked down the locked door after a few tries and they rushed upstairs, heading to Jenny, Sari, and Richie. Dean went straight to Jenny's room, where the door was inexplicably locked while Julia went to Richie and Sam went to Sari.

Richie was sobbing in his crib, clearly scared out of his mind from the pounding sounds coming from his mom's room next door. Julia made rushed soothing noises as she hurriedly picked him up out of his crib, grabbing his blanket so he wouldn't get cold outside. She ran back out of the room with the toddler in her arms, almost running into Sam and Sari in the process.

"Let's go!" Sam urged her as he went downstairs.

Julia was on his heels, being careful not to trip at her high speed. When they made it to the foyer, Sam put Sari down and gently pushed her toward Julia, giving his best friend a pointed look. Julia nodded in understanding.

"Sari," she got the little girl's attention, grabbing her hand with her free one. "you and me are gonna run outside as fast as we can, okay? Don't look back."

Sari nodded and looked back at Sam, screaming shrilly when she saw that he had been grabbed by the poltergeist. Julia tugged on her arm and they took off, sprinting out of the house and into the front yard where Dean and Jenny were waiting.

"Dean," Julia handed the kids off to Julia. "It got Sam!"

After getting his sawed off and some salt rounds from the trunk of the Impala, Dean and Julia ran back to the house. The door was forced shut as they approached and it took both of them together to kick it down in two tries.

"SAM!" Dean shouted as they ran into the house.

By the time they got to the kitchen, Sam was forcefully pinned against the cabinets, unable to move. Across the room, an invisible figure surrounded by fire approached him. Julia didn't feel the evil energy of the poltergeist from it but Dean aimed his sawed off at the figure anyway.

"No, don't!" Sam stopped him.

"What? Why?"

"Because I know who it is," Sam told him. "I can see her now."

As the figure stepped into the kitchen, the fire around it disappeared. Mary Winchester appeared, her long blonde hair floating with the nonexistent wind. She looked at her sons with fond, loving eyes, wearing a long white nightgown.

As Julia gaped at the beautiful woman who birthed two of her closest friends, Dean lowered his gun. He stared at his mom in awe, his eyes stinging with tears as she smiled softly at him.

"Mom..."

Mary slowly walked toward him, her smile growing. Dean looked a lot like her; he got his green eyes, nose, freckles, and dirty-blonde hair from her.

"Dean," she breathed lovingly, giving him a proud look.

Julia's own eyes filled with tears as she grabbed Dean's hand and squeezed tightly, gulping at the smile that Mary gave her as she passed them. She slowly walked up to Sam, who was still in the poltergeist's hold.

"Sam," Mary greeted him; Sam laughed breathlessly, tears falling from his eyes. "I'm sorry."

Sam furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "For what?"

Mary didn't answer as she stared at him for a long moment. She silently turned back toward the living room, disappearing and reappearing a few feet forward. She stared at the ceiling with a dark glare.

"You," her voice trembled angrily. "get out of my house and let go of my son."

Dean tightened his grip on Julia's hand painfully as flames surrounded Mary once more. The fire flared brightly and raised to the ceiling, spreading and then disappearing all together.

"Mom?" Dean looked around frantically.

Julia sighed, feeling the relief from Mary's lighter energy colliding with the malevolent energy of the poltergeist. "It's done," she whispered as the force holding Sam fell away. "They're gone."

Dean frowned sadly and Sam breathed shakily, both of them devastated to see their mom for a last time before she suddenly disappeared again. Julia's heart ached so badly for them but she hoped that maybe seeing Mary could be a start to giving them some closure.

"Come here," Julia reached out for Sam's arm, tugging him toward her. She untangled her hand from Dean's and wrapped that arm around his waist, bringing both of them in for a hug at the same time.

When Sam rested his head on top of Julia's, his forehead reaching the tip of Dean's shoulder, he sighed in comfort. They were his family and he was so glad he had them around. Dean felt the same way; for the first time ever, he joined in on a group hug.

-

Julia and Sam sat side-by-side on the front steps of Jenny's house the next morning, watching as Dean looked at the photos of the Winchester family that Jenny had found in the basement. They had called Missouri to tell them about what happened the night before and she had rushed over to the house so she could check to make sure that everything was all right.

She did a quick walk around, trying to feel for the energies she felt the day before, before stepped out of the house.

"Well," Missouri sat on Sam's other side. "there are no spirits in there anymore. This time for sure."

Sam looked down at his feet sadly. "Not even my mom?"

"No."

"What happened?" he looked at her, hoping that she would explain how his mom had gotten rid of the poltergeist. Julia had said that she felt them both disappear at the same time, so he was pretty sure it had something to do with Mary.

"You're mom's spirit and the poltergeist's energy canceled each other out," Missouri explained. "Your momma destroyed herself going after the thing."

Sam pressed his lips together, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Why would she do something like that?"

"Well, to protect her boys, of course."

Julia smiled and patted Sam's knee comfortingly. Throughout their whole friendship, Sam had confessed many times that he felt disconnected from his mom because she died when he was only an infant. He didn't have the memories that Dean had of Mary and that rightfully upset him. Julia was glad that Sam knew that his mom would have done anything to protect him and his brother because she loved them so much.

"Sam, I'm sorry," Missouri apologized hesitantly.

Sam gave her a confused look. "For what?"

His mom had said that, too.

"You sensed it was here, didn't you? Even when I couldn't," Missouri stated, her eyes darting between both Sam and Julia. "Both of you did."

Julia nodded silently while Sam grimaced.

"What's happening to me?" he asked the older woman, fear coloring his voice.

"I know I should have all the answers, but," she shook her head slightly. "I don't know."

"Sam, Jules, you ready?" Dean called from the Impala as Jenny started walking back up to her house.

Julia and Sam got up from their spots on the stairs, giving Jenny smiles when she thanked them. The two of them and Dean gathered at the back of the Impala as Missouri walked over to them.

"Don't you three be strangers," she warned them.

"We won't," Dean promised.

"Julia," she called; Julia perked up at her name. "You take care of those boys, okay? They need you."

Julia looked at Sam and Dean, smiling softly. "I need them," she declared; they both grinned back at her. Looking back at Missouri, she nodded in a silent promise. "Bye, Missouri."

Missouri waved at the three of them. "See you around."

They all got into the car and settled in as Dean started the engine. Sam and Dean each gave their old house one last look. Dean pulled away from the curb, leaving the house behind in his rearview mirror.

(Gif is not mine)