#Nick family died and he says yes out of desperation like in the show

[definitivelynotapidgeon]

Supernatural AU - A bigger Family

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairings: SamxJess(established)

Warning: none? Bad writing XD

Description: What if Dean left before Sam, met Adam and Jess found out about Sam being a hunter.

Authors note: Got the idea while rewatching season 1! Just wanted more characters to play with

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The reason for the Winchesters to become hunters stays the same, Mary dies and it causes John to become obsessed with justice.

John Winchester is raising the two siblings through hunting, at 13 and 9 years old the siblings get attacked by a werwolf who wanted revenge on John. Both of them ended up in the hospital. Bobby, who was helping out, finds out and allows the siblings to stay with him from that moment on, while John is busy hunting.

This causes Dean to lash out, he wants to prove himself. He made one mistake by letting the werwolf get to close, it is his duty to finish the job. Bobby tries his best to explain that he is just a child and to let the adults handle it.

Dean doesn't listen, he ends up sneaking out and hunting the werwolf by himself.

His little brother is the first to notice, Sam tells Bobby immediately and he warns John.

They save Dean and John ends punching Dean. This causes the adults to have an argument about the treatment of the children. John takes Dean and Sam by force and continues raising them in motels. The disrespect Dean showed that day was never forgotten.

Dean fears his father and tries to make up for his wrong doing, but gives up at the end and focuses his time protecting Sam.

Two years later, Dean runs again this time not towards a monster but from one.

Dean ends up back at Bobby's place, surprising him, but being accepted with wide arms.

He made another mistake and it caused John to freak out, Dean didn't know what else to do but run to Bobby.

He didn't eat or sleep since driving there, Bobby allowed him to stay on the couch.

John knocks angrily on the door and Bobby opens it with his gun in hand. Promising him to shoot, if he doesn't leave his property. It causes another fight, Dean hears everything.

Bobby shoots a couple warning shoots and John leaves, warning that he would come back. Bobby focuses his time with Dean, trying to sort everything out while Dean pushes him away.

Bobby tells Dean about his own father and that he had to kill him.

Dean is shocked and doesn't know how to react, but Bobby tells him that he doesn't have to. They end up living together since then and growing closer.

The siblings still talk with each other, but it's getting less and less.

Bobby ends up finding out about Adam Milligan through a hunting friend who was told by John. Adam's mother died through a poltergeist and with no known family, he would end up in the system. Bobby forges some papers and Adam is allowed to stay with him.

His fear of being like his own father is being healed by his relationship with Dean. Dean(16 now) mistakenly calling him Dad didn't hurt either. Adam, 5 years old, has to adjust to having a new family and seeing his mother die in front of him. Surprisingly, the two new siblings bonded fast over fast-food and movies.

Time moves and Sam plans to go to Stanford, John feels betrayed and they end up having their fight. Sam goes through the door and doesn't look back. He ends up calling Dean for the first time after a while and finds out about Adam.

He feels replaced and let's his emotions get to him. Not even telling Dean about college.

Sam starts his journey in law school and meets Jessica through their friend Brady. They become a couple fast, him in law and her in medicine.

Sam tries to live his normal life until his nightmares start, he gets spooked by them until he can't ignore them and does his own research to calm himself. It only makes him more nervous and he ends up debating on asking for help, before he can decide Bobby calls him.

He decides to pick up, they want his help on a hunt that they can't ignore and Sam agrees to escape his own thoughts.

Jess who is worried about him and tried her best to calm him, decides to secretly tag along to ensure his safety.

Sam(22) meets Dean(26) and Adam(15) in a library, going over the information they have. Sam is a bit jealous over Adam, while Adam gives the two siblings the space they need. Only stepping in when necessary, Jess meanwhile is finding out for the first time that Sam has siblings.

They are hunting a group of Vampires, Jess gets caught by one of them and gets used as bait. Sam is freaking out and tries everything to get her back, his brothers help.

Together they end up beheading them and saving Jess. She ends up patching the boys up while explaining her reason on being there before it's Sam turn to explain. Sam comes clean about his life and introduces his siblings.

Sam and Jess go back to college, but Jess is unable to focus on becoming a doctor while more important things are happening under people noses. She ends up calling Dean and telling him her issues. They end up talking for hours and keep going over everything multiple times. Jess head tells her no, but her heart already made the decision on becoming a hunter herself.

Sam is angry, because the plan he had for them gets ruined. It gets revealed that Sam wanted to propose to Jess.

Jess admits that she wants to say yes, but that she can't ruin his live and she leaves to learn under Bobby the same way Adam is. Both of them got the chance to choose a normal life, but both want to fight.

Sam isn't able to keep his emotions in check, his worry and nightmares become worse. He finds out that he has telekinesis powers. Sam ignores it, deciding not to tell a soul and focuses his time on finding Jess.

At Bobby's house the five try to talk but get interrupted by a call from another hunter, who request help. Bobby, Sam and Dean go hunting while Adam starts to do research. It's his current main role in the group, while also now teaching Jess. She gets the hang out of it quickly and ends up finding the crucial information to kill the monster. Unfortunately, they aren't able to reach out to the others. Adam ends up leaving to go get them, while leaving Jess at Bobby's place. Handing her a weapon and telling her what to do for her safety.

Adam is allowed to hunt smaller jobs or as extra backup if something needs to be burned while Sam and Dean fight. He is eager to fight more, but is willing to wait because other people lives are at stake.

He ends up taking a day and a half to get to the city only to find Bobby in the hospital with no trace of Sam and Dean. The hunter friend was the one who brought Bobby to the hospital and is now also looking for the two. Adam and the hunter end up finding them tied up and before he frees them, the hunter attacks him from behind. The shapeshifter took the appearance of the friend and has now all the siblings tied up.

He takes the appearance of Adam and goes back to the hospital to deal with Bobby. While there the siblings manage to escape and they try to get there on time to warn Bobby. Bobby was able to knock out the shapeshifter himself after arriving in the motel. The shapeshifter making a small mistake that made Bobby realize the truth. They deal with the corspe and do a funeral for the hunter.

Both parties drive back, Sam with Dean and Bobby with Adam. Sam calls Jess to inform her about how the hunt went.

Jessica keeps reading articles the next morning on her laptop, switching from one tab to the other and cross checking with Bobby's book. The lights begin to flicker and she feels watched and notices that some of Bobby's traps where pampered. Jess tries to act cool, her mind racing on what to do. Holding the knife tighter and being prepared for everything and nothing.

She sees a man standing in one of the rooms before the blond could do anything, in one blink of an eye the being disappeared.

The main door opens later that day and the boys enter tiredly. Jess tells them about what happend, Sam is concerned and angry about not being told immediately after it happened.

Redoing the traps and drawing more protection symbols on. All of them are on the edge, they realize that the monster just wanted to prove that it could do anything if it wanted to, it was toying with them. Sulfur. A demon. The hunt continues.

Dean Singer,

Sam Winchester,

Jessica Lee Moore,

and Adam Milligan

Fighting together and finding their family on the way.

[rhys-writes-sometimes]

Music Worth Making Part 1: Bright Forever

Requested: nope!

Warnings: abuse, child neglect, shitty parents, death, food, terrible writing

Series Summery: When the reader’s life is ripped away from them, they’re distraught. But with her two best friends and three certain ghosts, maybe the afterlife isn’t so bad after all. 

Chapter Summery: The band Sunset Curve was about to have a life-changing concert when they ate some bad hotdogs and died. 25 years later, you’re best friends with the girl who discovers them. 

Words: 3,026 

A/N: This is pretty much just introducing the characters and their relationships to one another. Things will get more interesting in the next few chapters.Also, the reader is non-binary! <3 lyrics are italicized Part 2 ______________________________________________________

Hollywood 1995

“Don’t look down, ‘cause we’re still rising up right now, and even if we hit the ground we’ll still fly, keep dreaming like we’ll live forever, but live it like it’s now or never.”

The teenaged boys finished their soundcheck, earning scattered applause and even a “whoo!” from the employees working at The Orpheum that night. The band didn’t try to hide their smiles as they took a bow. 

“Thank you, we’re Sunset Curve!” one called out.

“Tell your friends!” another added. 

“Too bad we wasted the tightest we’ve ever played on a soundcheck,” one said as they set down their instruments. 

“Wait until tonight man, when this place gets packed with record execs.”

The boys all nodded, thinking of all the chances of fame they would have after that night.

“Okay, well, I’m thinking we fuel up before the show. I’m thinking street dogs?”

Two of the other boys liked that idea, but the other one had other plans.

Jumping off the stage, he started to make his way over to a young woman who was wiping down tables.

“Hey Bobby, where you going?” the one who had suggested they go get street dogs called out.

“I’m good!” he called out to his bandmates, then said to the girl: “Vegetarian. I could never hurt an animal.” 

“You guys are really good,” she said with a smile as the other three guys joined their band member at her table. “I see a lot of bands. Been in a couple myself. I was really feeling it.”

The guys all smiled. 

“That’s what we do this for,” one of them said. The tips of his chestnut colored hair almost reached the top of his shirt with cut off sleeves. “I’m Luke, by the way.”

“Hi, I’m Reggie.” Reggie had black hair and was wearing a leather jacket with a red flannel tied around his waist. An interesting combination, but somehow the outfit worked. 

“Alex.” A boy with blond hair spoke up from where he was hovering just to the side of the group, wearing a pale pink t-shirt.

“Bobby.” The boy who had first walked over to the girl had brown hair and a sleeveless jacket over a t-shirt. 

“Nice meeting you guys. I’m Rose.” The girl smiled at all of them again as Luke licked his finger and stuck it in Bobby’s ear. 

“Oh uh, here’s our demo, and a t-shirt, size beautiful.” Reggie handed Rose a CD and a t-shirt, earning a small groan from Alex. 

“Thanks. I’ll make sure not to wipe the tables down with this one.” 

“Oh, good call. Whenever they get wet, they just kinda fall apart in your hands,” Alex informed her.

“Don’t you guys have to go get hot dogs?” Bobby asked, clearly wanting to talk to Rose without the other three around. 

“Yeah.” Luke leaned closer to Rose, as if to tell her a secret. “He had a hamburger for lunch.”

-----

“Man, I can’t wait until we eat someplace where the condiments aren’t served out of the back of an Oldsmobile,” Alex grumbled as he put a pickle on his hot dog. “Hey, sorry, I got some pickle juice on your battery cables.”

“No problem. It’ll help with the rust,” the man cooking hot dogs said with a slight chuckle.

“That can’t….okay.”

The three made their way over to a couch to eat. Before they could dig in, however, Luke started speaking. 

“This is awesome, you guys. We’re playing The Orpheum! I can’t even count how many bands have played here and then ended up being huge,” he said with a slight chuckle. “Eat up, boys. ‘Cause after tonight, everything changes.”

They all bit down hungerly into their street dogs.

Alex was the first to notice that something was off. “That’s a new flavor,” he said, a small amount of worry creeping into his tone.

“Chill man. Street dogs haven’t killed us yet.” Reggie tried to calm down his friend.

Luke hesitated for a moment, then took another huge bite.

-----

Los Angeles 2020

You made your way through the hallway, walking fast, faces pass, weaving around people as you tried to reach your locker. You smiled as you saw your two best friends waiting for you.

“Hey, underacheiver,” Flynn said in greeting.

“Hey, disappointments,” you joked back to them. “Okay, Julie, I know you don’t want me to ask, but have you figured out what you’re gonna do today?”

“I’ll know in the moment.” The frizzy-haired girl fiddled with her bracelets as she spoke, the only clue that she was nervous for her proformance later.

“Really, Jules? That’s all your giving us? Mrs. Harrison said-” Flynn was cut off from scolding one of her best friends.

“This is my last chance, I know, I was there,” Julie finished. Flynn smiled softly for a moment, but it turned to a grimace of disgust as she noticed a girl handing out flyers. 

“Ugh, what is she handing out?” she questioned.

“Desperation?” you said, only half joking. Julie and Flynn snickered. 

However, you put on a smile as the girl walked up to the three of you. 

“Here you go. My group’s performing at the spirit rally tomorrow. I’m sure you guys have nothing better to do,” she said, her eyes sweeping over you critically as she handed the flyer to Flynn. 

Flynn put on a bright, sarcastic smile. “Oh my gosh, Carrie, thanks!”

“Oh my gosh, Flynn, don’t bother coming!”

The three of you rolled your eyes at Carries retreating back. However, someone else caught Julie’s eye. 

“Nick?” you asked, looking between Julie and the blond-haired boy she was staring at.

“Still?” Flynn asked. “You know they’re gonna get married and have a bunch of unholy babies.”

“Nick’s a sweetheart.”

“Yeah, you’d actually have to talk to him to know that,” Flynn said with a small smile. “And only one of them has to be a demon to make a demon baby.” 

You nodded your approval of this statement as Flynn called out “Demon!” in Carrie’s direction.

The three of you turned towards the lockers and laughed quietly. 

“There’s that smile,” Flynn said, lightly poking both you and Julie’s face. “Now come on, let’s go prove everybody wrong.”

You flinched slightly as she put her arm around you, but tried not to show it.

-----

“Okay, we have one last proformance,” Mrs. Harrison called out. “Julie.”

You squeezed her hand slightly as she stood up and walked over to the piano. 

She sat in silence for a moment, before saying “I’m sorry,” and running out of the room, with you and Flynn not far behind. 

-----

“I’ll be back to pick you up at 5:30. Have fun at practice, Danny!” you called out after your little brother as he ran to join the baseball team. This was a daily routine for you; drop Danny off at practice, go to Julie’s to study and eat, pick up Danny, go home and endure torture. 

You let your mind wander as you walked to Julie’s house, which luckily wasn’t very far from the sports fields. Walking through the front door, you let your bag fall to the ground as you went to go get something to eat. 

-----

A few hours later, you were walking back to the sports fields. 

“Hey, Danny,” you said once you saw him, ruffling the boy’s hair. “How was practice?”

You paid attention as best you could as he rambled on about what had happened that day, but if you were honest, you didn’t understand a thing about sports. You were just glad your brother had found something that made him happy.

You closed the front door as quietly as you could, not wanting to wake your father. You tip-toed into the kitchen to start making dinner, as you did every night.

“Olivia, is that you?” you mother asked. You winced. 

“Yes, mother,” you sighed slightly, afraid to tell her that you had changed your name to Y/N.

“Hurry up and get dinner started. My feet are tired from cleaning all day.”

You wanted to roll your eyes at the excuse that was very obviously a lie, your house was a mess and you knew you would be expected to clean it later, but you didn’t want to get in trouble. So you fell into a robotic sort-of motion that you had developed as a way of hiding your emotions and thoughts from your parents. 

Thirty minutes and one burnt fingertip later, dinner was ready and waiting on the table. 

“Wake up, Harold, dinner is ready.” Your mother shook your father awake. You knew if you tried that, you would be slapped across the face. By both of them. 

However, your father just sat up sleepily and lumbered over to the table. You stood over to the side as your family ate, not being allowed to join them. 

“Goddamned roast beef is overcooked again,” he grumbled. You blinked back tears. Such a small thing shouldn’t upset you, you knew, but it did. 

You endured the criticism on the meal you had worked hard to make from your mother and father for the next half-hour. Your father declared himself full and snapped his fingers at you. You whisked his plate away before taking your mother’s, too. She never ate after he finished. You took Danny’s too, but only because you knew that your parents disapproved of him still eating. 

“Hey,” your father said, his voice already low and dangerous. “Give your brother back his plate. He wasn’t finished yet.”

You set the plate back down, nodding and shaking slightly. “My apologies, father.”

“Don’t appologize to your father, appologize to your brother!” your mother exclaimed, grabbing Danny’s hand from across the table and giving it a squeeze. 

“It’s okay, really, I was done,” he hurried to say.

Your mother frowned at him. “Are you sure, darling?”

He nodded. 

“Well, okay then…” she said, still frowning slightly. “You may be excused.” 

He ran off to his room. You took his plate. 

Heading back to the kitchen with a small sigh, you started making a meal for yourself out of what was left, leaving enough so that your family would have leftovers. 

You ate silently, thinking about how nice it would be to have a caring family. Of course, Danny cared, but he was too young to stand up to your parents, and you never wanted him to have to. You would protect that boy at all costs.

Holding in a sigh, you cleaned up from dinner, and then pulled out the duster to start to clean the house. You were stopped, however, by your mother. 

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I- I’m cleaning the house…”

“Didn’t you hear me say earlier that I cleaned it? Are you insulting my cleaning job?”

“N-no, I-”

“You what?” Without waiting for an answer, she slapped you across the face. You struggled to remain emotionless; your face stung. 

You thought it was over, but then your father joined in.

“What’s this Jennifer? Is Olivia insulting your hard work?”

“It’s Y/N…” you muttered quietly. Your father overheard and put his face uncomfortably close to yours.

“As long as you’re living under my roof it will always be Olivia. And even if you could change your name, that doesn’t change your gender, freak,” he spat. 

“I know,” you whispered. 

He slapped you.

“Don’t talk back to me.”

Blinking back tears, you stood still as they walked away. Eventually, you remembered the duster in your hand. Placing it back on the shelf, you walked back up to your room, hoping you would be able to escape them for the rest of the night.

-----

The next morning as you and Danny were walking to Julie’s house to go to school, you heard something you hadn’t heard in a long time: music. Julie was singing. 

“Wake up, wake up, if it’s all you do, look out, look inside of you, it’s not what you lost, it’s what you’ll gain raising your voice to the rain.” You smiled. It had been so long since you last heard her voice, and her music was a gift to the world. 

You walked into the studio alone, Danny having gone to talk to Carlos. Julie looked up with small tears in her eyes, seeing you standing there, smiling. She smiled back. 

“It’s so nice to hear you play again.”

Julie smiled wider. “Thanks.”

Just then, Flynn burst in. 

“Carlos told me you’d be out here. We need to talk.” She crossed the room to where the two of you stood by the piano. 

“Are you okay?” you asked, noticing the tears running down her face. 

“No, I’m not okay! One of my best friends just got kicked out of music! I’ve been up all night thinking about what I was gonna say. Might’ve drank seven sodas, but I need to get this out.”

“Wait, I have something to tell you-”

“No. It’s my turn to talk.” Flynn took a deep breath. “You can’t give up music. You’re music’s like a gift, that would be a tragedy. So you’re basically, like, cancelling Christmas, and I love Christmas!”

“Flynn-” you started to say, but she cut you off. 

“Uh-uh! I don’t know why you’re siding with her, Y/N. I know you like hearing her play.”

You knew Flynn didn’t mean to hurt you, but her words stung a little. You nodded once and retreated back into yourself slightly. Flynn was too emotional (and sleep deprived) to notice. 

“When we were six, we promised to be in a band together. Double Trouble!”

“I never agreed to that name,” Julie said, laughing slightly.

“That’s not the point. Jules, if you leave the music program, we’ll be apart forever. That’s just what happens. Sure, we’ll see each other in the hall sometimes, but we’ll have different lives, make new friends…” Flynn said the last part quieter. You could tell she hated the thought of losing one of her best friends.

“That’s not true,” Julie reassured her, but Flynn wasn’t finished.

“You’re right. I won’t be making any new friends. I’ll only have Y/N, and they’re amazing but I’d miss you Jules! And the only time we’ll contact each other is when we’re liking each other’s posts on Instagram. Every time I’ll be hitting that little heart, my heart will be breaking because one of my best friend’s left me, and… do you have any soda? My head hurts.” 

“Can I talk now?” Julie asked tentatively. 

“Fine.”

“I just played the piano and sang again. Y/N can confirm it.” You nodded when Flynn looked at you excitedly. 

“What? Why didn’t you just say so?” She asked, practically bouncing with joy. 

“She was trying to, but then your seven soda’s kicked in,” you answered with a small laugh. 

Flynn was grinning from ear to ear now. “I’m so happy for you! And me! And Y/N!”

You all hugged, but Flynn pulled away quickly, gasping. “We need to tell Mrs. Harrison that you can play so you can stay in school and my life won’t be that sad picture I just painted for you!”

You giggled as Flynn put her arms around both of you. “Y/N, our girl’s back. Double Trouble lives again!”

“Still not our band name,” giggled Julie. 

-----

“Did you end up getting back into the music program?” you asked Julie at the end of your study session for the day. She looked down at her shoes, and you knew what the answer would be before she said it:

“No. No I didn’t.”

You tried not to look too disappointed for her sake. “Oh. I’m really sorry, Jules.”

“It’s…” she sighed. “It’s okay. I can reapply next semester.”

You hugged her. 

“Oh hey, I almost forgot to tell you,” she said right as you were about to walk out of the door. “We decided not to move.”

Despite the news that one of your best friends was no longer in the music program, a smile lit up your face. “That’s great!” you said, pulling her in for another quick hug. Then you walked out the door, not wanting to be late to pick up Danny. 

-----

“Check it out, yeah we make ‘em say Wow!” Carrie bowed as her band, Dirty Candi, finished their dance number. You were at the spirit rally, saving a seat for Julie and Flynn, who were nowhere to be found. 

Suddenly Flynn plopped down beside you. 

“Oh hey, where were you?” you asked the girl.

She tried to blow a piece of hair out of her face, frowning slightly when it wouldn’t move. “I was in the band room. I wasn’t feeling very… spirt-y.” You both chuckled slightly. 

“Where’s Jules?” You looked around for the other girl, but couldn’t see her. 

As if in response to your question, music filled the gym as someone started to play the piano on the stage. You looked up to see Julie, alone on stage, with a spotlight on her. 

“Sometime’s I think I’m falling down, I wanna cry, I’m calling out, for one more try, to feel alive,” she sang, her voice echoing slightly as it filled the room. You smiled, happy she was singing again. 

Then suddenly, there were three boys on stage with her. 

“Whoa!” Flynn exclaimed.

“Where did those boys come from?” you asked in amazement. Julie seemed a little shocked that they were there too. One of them, the lead guitarist you guessed, started singing the second verse. 

“In times that I doubted myself, I felt like I needed some help,” he sang. 

“Whoa, he has a really good voice,” you said, your mouth hanging open slightly. 

You found yourself staring at him as the song went on. You could tell that he really enjoyed playing, and found yourself getting caught up in the music. 

“And rise, through the night, you and I, we will fight to shine together, bright forever!” Julie harmonized with the boys, finishing the song. You started clapping with the rest of the crowd that had gathered to watch, proud of your friend.

Then, as suddenly as they appeared, the boys were gone.  

[violent-backed-starling]

An Essay For your Consideration

The Manson Family, Heaven’s Gate, The People’s Temple; all are fairly well-known cults. They are known because of what they did. They all made the news in the worst possible way. The Manson Family murdered innocents because their prophet commanded them to. Heaven’s Gate ended in a mass suicide. The People’s Temple ended with a mass murder/suicide. These are all traumatic and shocking events. It is because these are so well known and present in the public eye that these cults in particular have shaped the way people portray cults in the pieces of fiction they write. This is evident from The Order in the Silent Hill Series by Keiichiro Toyama to The Village by M. Night Shyamalan. The cults in the media are always dark, unhinged, or at the least upsetting to most people, which is why the viewer generally ends up rooting for the hero. In a particular fictional cult they express several of the above traits. In the 2019 horror comedy musical Black Friday, written by Matt and Nick Lang with music and lyrics by Jeff Blim, there is a cult that goes about the mall doing similar crimes. This kind of behavior is extreme. In general, cults while still awful and problematic in their own rights, do not go to such horrific lengths. The Wiggly cult in Black Friday has extreme behaviors, even by cult standards.

When the cult first formed in the mall in Black Friday it was not completely horrible, unhinged yes, but not completely irredeemable. Over the course of a few mere hours they turned to savage actions in order to get what they wanted. It started off with just burning down the Cinnabon in the mall as a “sacrifice to a dark god”. Their actions only escalated from there. The cult’s prophet, Linda Monroe, slit the throat of the manager at Toy Zone when he could not get her a Wiggly doll immediately, even though he tried to bargain with her saying that he could contact the manufacturer and get her a Wiggly doll. She later tried to have one of the cultists murder a teenage worker at Toy Zone, presumably for lying about having one of the Wiggly dolls. She lied about the Wiggly doll to protect her sister who carried it, unknowingly, in her backpack. The teen worker managed to escape and find help in the end, but she was supposed to be murdered. The cultists also ended up finding this worker’s sister and taking her back to Linda who threatened her with a knife when she found out the sister no longer had the Wiggly doll. She most likely would have been murdered by Linda if there had not been help coming from her sister. The cult eventually died in a fire when the whole mall burned down due to the Wiggly doll being set on fire, because they refused to leave the Wiggly doll that they had gotten ahold of and were fighting over who would be the new prophet since Linda had been shot and killed. The cultists literally burned alive instead of escaping because of their cult and them wanting to be the new prophet. That is an absolutely horrific and painful way to die. Them burning alive for their god is a prime example of extreme behavior. Even when it comes to the more extreme cults, they generally do not end up with cultists burning alive, voluntarily. This kind of behavior is why the Wiggly cult in Black Friday is not a regular cult.

Cults show up on the news on occasion. Those cults are generally more violent and upsetting because what they do or what they did has to be something awful to get them onto the news. NXIVM is a cult that has made headlines semi recently since they did awful things like brand women and make women give them blackmail materials so they could not leave the cult once they joined. This sounds bad and horrific and is only scratching the surface on what truly was going on, but they did not commit murder or mass suicide. This is also just one case, a case that made headlines no less. When it comes to the easily recognizable hallmarks of cults the ones that come to mind are the manipulation of their members, brainwashing, and the separation of members from their family and friends. Cults usually end up separating the members away from their family and friends in order to make them more vulnerable and likely to stay within the cult. The cults also sometimes take money from their followers who, believing that will be put to a good cause, give it to the leader. That money is usually used to benefit the leader of the cult in some unorthodox way, like buying a sports car or nice worldly possessions. While that sucks and no one should take advantage of people like that, it is still far better than murder. In Wiggly’s cult they were willing to kill for one of the Wiggly dolls. Their prophet wanted four of them, but not a single person in the cult had one until the end and when they finally got one it was Linda’s, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. The people that also were part of the cult had problems because that was how Wiggly ensnared them. They were part of the cult of comfort because of their own issues and wanted relief.  That is the same reason why many people joined NXIVM. Keith Raniere presented his cult as an MLM that sold courses for self improvement. In Black Friday Linda had an affair with her lawyer and desperately wanted to be adored. The other cultists had similar issues, one had recently lost a job, another was homeless and so on. This cult of comfort had people under its thumb believing in their new god, Wiggly.

There is also the issue where people blend the lines between cults and religions. The fact is that they do overlap in areas, and many cults are based upon being a religion. Thomas Robbins explains that the ways religions have become more cult like has affected the studies of the sociology of these religions. Then the other group that cults overlap with is political parties. There are a number of political cults as well. The Cult of Cheka in Russia is a big one. The public sees that “the FSB continues to promote a positive image of the Cheka in the public imagination”. This cult is pushed to be in the public eye and is supposed to be thought of as good. It is literally a government supported cult. That is because this is a secret police kind of deal. That implies that this lies on the more extreme side of cults as well, but that is the way most of the well known ones are. Wiggly’s cult has both of these aspects to it. Linda is Wiggly’s prophet because he is a dark god from another dimension, but the reason people love and believe in him is capitalism. Wiggly is not only an interdimensional being with the powers of a god, he is also the little dolls that were sold in the Toy Zone, and all over the USA. The commercial for those dolls promised relief from the woes of the world to his followers. They were convinced that this product would make everything better. That is why they were willing to burn with the doll rather than just letting it go.

Most cults that end do not do so by such tragic means but rather they just split apart or fizzle out on their own. Sometimes there are legal issues, but they are generally something smaller scale than murder, such as tax fraud, insurance fraud, etc. Those are still crimes and they are seriously wrong but not nearly as bad as killing someone. 

The time in a cult does affect the mental health of the individual. The ex-members of some organizations would say that they suffered from “cognitive deficiencies (e.g., memory, perception, decision-making, or information-processing deficits) and emotional impairments”. The separation from family and friends makes it harder for people to leave. The cults do, generally, let people leave though, and people do choose to leave. This is not the most common, but nor is it completely unexpected. While people who leave their cult do consider it to be rewarding, they also have problems afterwards. They can have physical issues, emotional issues, psychological issues, or some combination of them. These are regular cults, the more extreme variety could have one committing serious crimes like murdering, being an accomplice to murder, or straight up ending with them dead, whether by their own hands or not. Those people in Wiggly’s cult did not leave; they would rather die than leave their cult of comfort, so they did. 

The people that ended up in the cult in Black Friday were there because Wiggly and by extension Linda promised to fix the holes in their lives. They just blindly followed and believed her when it came to what Wiggly could and would do for them. They would not take responsibility for their own problems and try to solve them themself. The cultists wanted the fake promises of comfort Wiggly gave them rather than trying to fix them because it was easier to just rely on Wiggly. They wanted someone else to fix their problems like their failing marriage, losing their job, their messy divorce, losing custody of their kids, their dead wife, etc. This is something that probably drives real life people to join cults as well. Bad circumstances can have one turning to ill advised sources of comfort and relief. In some cases that ill advised source of relief could be cult. These are the kind of people that a real life cult would target to try to get them to join their ranks. These are people who might turn to a cult in times of trial which is exactly why a cult would try to convert them simply because they are easy targets. Even if the actions of Wiggly’s cult are extreme the member’s reasons for joining are ordinary and understandable. That gives this cult some sort of connection to a more realistic cult. The actions from this cult do align with some cults, namely The Manson Family and The People’s Church. 

The Manson Family was also a very extreme cult when it came down to it. The Manson family with the myriad of crimes they committed. Those crimes including murder, torture, hostage taking, the attempted assassination of the president and other lesser crimes like grand theft auto and forging a check from the treasury. The trial was no less disturbing with Charles Manson trying to represent himself and after a few days being found incapable of doing so. He also entered the courtroom with a cross carved into his forehead. Manson demanded to be allowed to testify and they agreed. He testified that he was a product of the criminal justice system since both his father and mother ended up in prison at some point. The court also ended up having members of the family testify and they told the truth of what Manson said and believed. They actually ended up testifying against Manson. The cult was following his orders and it was on his orders that they killed. They also believed what he was saying about Helter Skelter being a huge war of which the Family would come out on top of. Manson said that was the true meaning behind the Beatles song by the same name. The cult also had members afraid of Manson and they were scared to disobey so they did what was asked of them whether they wanted to or not. That kind of behavior from a cult is intense, extreme, and rare which is why it was in the public eye as much as it was. This is exactly the kind of cult behavior that Wiggly’s cult from Black Friday also expressed. They also had similar behavior to another cult, that cult being The People’s Temple.

The People’s Temple started out with good intentions, but ended up with a large amount of its members dead. It started as a genuine religion but changed for the darker as the leader, Jim Jones, started faking healings and doing drugs. The healings would bring in more people and more money and with that money eventually Jones started doing drugs which evidently caused him to change, personality wise. He started wearing his signature sunglasses at that point to hide the fact he would have been doing drugs. He eventually got so paranoid due to the drugs that he decided to start his own little paradise for his followers out in Guyana. He started a small village with cottages and called it Jonestown. Many of the followers flocked out there, but once they got there they were stuck. They did not have enough money to leave, Jones kept their passports in a locked box, and all of the mail coming in and out was monitored. Those combined conditions made it practically impossible for anyone to leave. Life in Jonestown was miserable; they did not have enough space or food for everyone. Eventually concerned family members were able to convince U. S. Congressman Leo Ryan to go check on Jonestown in 1978. He and a bunch of reporters visited on November 17th, 1978 and at first it was okay but Ryan invited the followers to leave with him. Jones got very upset at how many wanted to go and as a result one of his lieutenants attacked Ryan with a knife. He escaped without harm. Jones then ordered for Ryan and his companions to be killed. They were ambushed and murdered as they attempted to board planes to leave. Then Jones ordered everyone in the main pavilion where the older member and nurses injected the young with poisons and drank poisoned Kool Aid. That kind of thing is very extreme. It is uncommon and made the news. 

The extreme cults are rare and have radical ideas and views. Wiggly’s cult is extreme and so is The Manson Family and The People’s Temple. They are all alike in the committing murder area of cult behavior. They also promised to be the ones safe from the world and would be left alive when the apocalypse would come. Wiggly’s cult ended in suicide as did The People’s Church. That is an extreme reaction to the situation that was going on and there were far better options that just were not taken. Manson and Linda were alike in that they would delegate the murdering to someone else. Linda and Jones are alike in that they did actually get their hands dirty. Linda’s cult may have been fictional and had some serious supernatural elements, but it still reflected actual cults behaviors even if those behaviors were extreme and part of the one percent of cults.

[25yearsofcrying]

Julie and the Phantoms

Summary: Trying my own hand at JATP novelization, using the show rather than the novel or the scripts. I’m sure it’s been done before but there’s never enough Julie and the Phantoms, right? If nothing else, I have an excuse to rewatch every single scene of the show all over again. And the deleted scene...

CHAPTER 02: life is a test, yes

Julie

I never used to want to be invisible, but that was before. Now I keep my head down and my cap pulled into my face as I weave my way through the hallway of Los Felis High School. I’ve had more than enough attention, the wrong kind, over the past year. That’s the one thing no one tells you about losing a mother. That people will shower you with pity. And those same people will look at you with side eye when you don’t bounce back as fast as they need you to.

I’m standing at my locker when my best friend bounces over. “Hey, underachiever,” she greets me, teasing.

That brings a brief smile to my face. “Hey, disappointment,” I counter.

She gets straight to the point, as she always does. “I know you don’t want me to ask, but have you figured out what you’re gonna do today?” And she is right. I don’t want her to ask. This is not a conversation I am ready for, despite having seen it coming.

“I’ll know in the moment,” I say and I can tell my best friend sees through my blatant lie.

My name is Julie and hers is Flynn and while she’s the furthest thing from a disappointment, but these days, I am as well be that and an underachiever, too. I never used to be. I used to work hard, apply myself as the teachers would say, and I made my family proud. My grades are still okay these days, also thanks to the teachers’ leniency over the past few months, but I can’t find my ambition. Aspiring towards anything feels hollow when my mom’s not around to witness my achievements. Everything just reminds me that she is not here anymore.

At this point, everyone thinks I’m a loser. A flake. The girl who is still in the music program because the teacher feels sorry for me, not because I belong.

Flynn looks at me in disbelief. She has one of those extremely expressive faces and I would be able to tell how frustrated she is with me even if I didn’t know her as well as I do. “Really, Jules? That’s all you’re giving me? Mrs. Harrison said this is your last chance.”

“I know. I was there.” I appreciate what Flynn’s trying to do for me, I do. She’s been kicking my behind into gear for the past year and I’m not sure where I’d be without her. They say you find who your real friends are in a time of crisis and I certainly have. Flynn can be kind and Flynn be tough, but about all, Flynn is loyal. Right now, however, my insides are twisting with nerves as is.

I don’t know what I’m going to do.

Fortunately, I’m saved from further conversation by a familiar, annoying voice. Carrie Wilson, our school’s queen bee and kind of celebrity, floats through the hallway with flyers in hand. She hands one to anyone willing to take it, which is everyone. “See you at the rally!” she says with each flyer. Her tone drips with sugary sweet fake friendliness.

Flynn’s displeasure turns to Carrie. “Ugh. What is she handing out?”

I shrug. “Desperation?” I guess and it makes Flynn chuckle, which I take as a point for me. Humor has been one of those things not coming easy to me lately and I am glad to see I can still make Flynn laugh.

“Come see Dirty Candy tomorrow!” Carrie makes her way over to us. “Here you go!” she says, handing a flyer first to Flynn and then to me. “My group’s performing at the spirit rally tomorrow.” I am shocked she mentions her group at all. Everyone knows it’s a Carrie show, supported by her father’s money and connections. “I’m sure you guys have nothing better to do,” she adds.

Carrie and I used to be friends. Right now, I can barely remember why.

“Oh my gosh, Carrie! Thanks!” says Flynn sarcastically, clutching the flyer like it’s a lottery ticket before letting her features slip back into an unimpressed expression.

“Oh my gosh, Flynn! Don’t bother coming!” Carrie says back and turns away from us. She has more flyers to hand out still.

And as she walks away, my gaze lands on her boyfriend Nick, who is waiting nearby with his skateboard and his nose in his phone. He doesn’t notice me, but I can’t help but smile to myself. He is so cute.

“Nick?” Flynn doesn’t miss my dreamy look. “Still? You know they’re gonna get married and have a bunch of unholy babies.”

“Nick is a sweetheart,” I protest. Nick might be a popular lacrosse player who’s been dating Carrie for much too long, but he is kind and nice. Very unlike his girlfriend.

Flynn shakes her head. “You’d actually have to talk to him to know that. And only one of them has to be a demon to make a demon baby. Demon!” she shouts and we both giggle when Carrie turns to follow her voice.

Seeing me laugh makes Flynn smile with genuine joy. “There’s that smile. Now let’s go prove everybody wrong.”

jatp jatp jatp jatp jatp  jatp jatp jatp jatp jatp jatp jatp jatp jatp jatp  jatp jatp 

Music has always been my connection to other people. It connected me to Mom, to Flynn, even to Carrie at one point. Maybe it could have connected me to Nick, too, as he is playing his impressive solo of a classical piece on electric guitar but I’m too focused on what’s coming next.

Mrs. Harrison praises Nick when he finishes and the applause dies down. “Nice job, Nick. Almost as impressive as you game against Glandale,” she jokes and waits for him to sit before she turns to the rest of the class. To me. “We have one last performance. Julie?”

Reluctantly, I stand up. Music has been my life. Ever since I can remember, Mom and I would sit at the piano and play for hours. We used to write music together. When she was alive, I felt like some of her talent had to be in me, too, and she always encouraged me to keep playing. Then she died. And every time I touch an instrument – every time I so much as I try listening to a song – all I can think of is the pain of her being gone.

She’d want me to continue with the music program. I want to continue with the music program. Music is my dream… At least it has always been.

I approach the piano and sit down. Even though I’ve never needed to look at music sheets – I don’t forget music – I place them in front of me now. To buy myself time.

Everyone’s eyes are on me. Mrs. Harrison says, encouragingly: “Take your time.” She’d been saying that for a year now, but I know this is the last time she is going to. I’ve run out of my chances.

So I touch my fingers to the keys.

My insides twist, painfully.

I never play a note.

“I’m sorry,” I say, getting to my feet. Without looking at anyone, I grab my things.

Carrie says, in mock confusion: “Is this when we clap?”

I hear Flynn snap at her but I don’t stop to see whether Carrie looks chastised. I’m running out of the classroom, Flynn at my heels.

Tears are burning in my eyes.

I’ve failed. I’ve disappointed everyone. Mrs. Harrison, Flynn, Dad… Mom. Myself. And I gave ammunition to Carrie, too. Everyone probably thinks I’m being dramatic, but they don’t understand how much it hurts.

“Julie!”

Despite wanting to run as far away as I possibly can, Flynn’s voice forces me to stop and turn around.

She is standing on top of the stairs I’ve reached the bottom of and she looks on the edge of tears herself, her gorgeous face twisted with pain and anger. “Girl!” she shouts and accompanies it with an urgent gesture, pointing back towards the classroom. “You better get back up here and you show them you can sing.”

I shake my head. I want to, but I can’t. I’m done here. “I’ve tried,” I shout back. “I’ve tried for myself, I’ve tried for Mrs. Harrison, I’ve tried for you, I’ve tried for my Dad and I’ve tried for mom. For a whole year, I’ve been trying. I can’t do this anymore.” Tears threaten to roll down my face. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t. I’m done.”

I turn away again, to run, and this time I hear Flynn calling my name, but she doesn’t chase after me.

[waitedforgarridebs]

Radio (1994): Merrison & Williams

The 3GAR adaptation that’ll shatter your heart into a million pieces

Clive Merrison and Michael Williams were the first pair of actors to play Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson who got to dramatise every single story of the entire canon – all four novels and 56 short stories.

In 1987, Bert Coules pitched a screenplay of HOUN to the BBC, which was greenlit and produced for radio with Roger Rees and Crawford Logan as the two lead actors. As this show ended up being a great success, Coules suggested to keep the series going, and the BBC agreed – however, they insisted on recasting. Eventually, the popularity of the show led to the decision to adapt literally every single canon story, and for the first time they actually managed to successfully achieve this feat over the course of the next 9 years. The Merrison-Williams-series ran on BBC Radio 4 from 1989 until 1998.

As Williams unfortunately died way too young in 2001, he could not continue his part as Dr Watson for the series of original stories written by Coules, “The Further Adventures of Sherlock Holmes”. This sequel still got commissioned during his lifetime, and while the production team set everything on hold to wait until Williams got better, sadly this never happened. He eventually was replaced by Andrew Sachs for the last 15 stories of this series.

While Coules remained as lead writer of the show, he was supported by various other writers for this quite massive project. The adaptations of the stories are in their core quite true to the books: The characters’ lines were updated to a more modern sounding language, and filler scenes were written to expand especially the shorter, less dense cases to the runtime of 45 minutes per episode.

For Coules and his team, the Holmes stories are not primarily detective stories. They are stories about a detective – and, more than that: They are stories about a detective and his only friend. Watson isn’t considered to be a bumbling sidekick, but an actual co-lead.

(And yes, I am basically quoting Coules himself from an interview done for the “I Hear of Sherlock Everywhere” podcast, so I do not know if Moftiss nicked that pitch from him or vice versa.)

In order to stay true to every story’s essence, the writers were “imaginatively faithful” to the original cases. They would, for example, sketch out the backstory and all the inciting incidents leading up to a client’s inquiry at 221b, and dramatise a bit of the story Doyle only mentioned in passing, but never actually wrote down. Or they would invent new scenes, sometimes even new endings, whenever they thought the original version wasn’t as effective as it could have been.

The reason I am putting all of this over the cut is to make you aware of the fact that the changes in the story were all done with a purpose – in this case, to amplify its emotional impact.

Because, without this background knowledge, their changes to 3GAR appear to be absolutely devastating. Cruel, even.

Can I just start by saying that I love Merrison’s Holmes and Williams’ Watson?

Their chemistry is incredible. They breathe so much life into these two characters! They banter, they laugh, they at times even mock a particularly annoying client when said client can’t hear them – and sometimes even when they can *coughs* Killer Evans – and I regret not having listened to their entire work as of yet. 

(But that’s a good resolution for the new year if there ever was one!)

And, one thing I can say for certain: This Holmes is 100% in love with his Watson.

It is the “desperately unspoken” dynamic of TPLoSH all over again, but maybe a little less repressed. Also, Watson – again – has his three-continent-reputation to defend. They are stupid idiot boys, they don’t fucking TALK to each other, and it’s driving me up the wall, but at least they do very much consider each other family, and that is a really great step into the right direction.

That being said, do not listen to this version of 3GAR if you don’t have the time to be emotionally compromised after finishing it.

This adaptation first aired on October 26, 1994.

As mentioned earlier, the writers – in this case David Ashton – did add a bit of backstory as well as some filler scenes to stretch the episode over the entire runtime: the introduction shows how Evans shot Prescott, featuring seemingly indifferent, almost John-Mulaney-esque barkeepers, who are so very chill about the entire murder-thing happening in front of their eyes. “Oh, what is it about Friday nights, ey?”

Ashton not only gives characters like Saunders lines, but writes whole scenes just for them, and even paces longer exposition bits quite nicely by, for example, having the American John Garrideb start the explanation about the search for the third Garrideb in Baker Street, and Nathan Garrideb finish it by excitedly rambling about his impending fortune at the exasperated Saunders.

Not only pleasant filler scenes like these were added, however.

You see, there is a running theme throughout this episode: At the beginning, Holmes is quite his usual self, and mocks the concept of love, human connection, and relationships. He and Watson see a young couple in the park, the bloke teasing the girl and playfully stealing ... her ... hat ... *muffled screaching noises* ... and Holmes compares the couple to pidgeons: “The male puffs out his chest and the female runs around in circles.” Watson, as ever, doesn’t seem too opposed to the idea of having a woman in his life, and Holmes simply ends up pointing out that the couple is having their date quite close to where the gallows used to be. Charming as ever.

Throughout the episode, Holmes is confronted with the idea of love and companionship again and again, in very different scenarios, and gradually warms up to it. Which, looking at where the episode is headed – Watson realising that there is a heart behind the cold mask – is actually a beautiful thing to do, and certainly does make sense.

However, one morning Watson has business of his own to attend to. And that’s where the heartbreak sets in: In an added scene, they show Watson ring-shopping. 

(Not for Holmes, obviously. He seems to have met someone and plans on getting engaged, again. Very rude.)

So, while Holmes keeps realising that being alone all the time is not good for him, that he actually wants someone in his life, the only person who could fill this void runs around with a little box hidden in his coat pocket.

But, it gets worse.

Remember when I teased in the post about the Hobbs-Shelley-adaptation (x) that there is yet another way to include Watson’s internal realisation after getting shot? As in, neither putting it as a summary at the beginning nor at the end of the episode?

I was talking about this one.

Merrison’s Holmes, in my opinion, has the most emotional reaction to Watson getting shot. He literally panics. 

(And the fact that there are a couple of seconds of complete and utter silence after he rushes to Watson’s side really does not help!)

HOLMES: Watson, you’re not hurt! For god’s sake, say you’re not hurt! WATSON, in pain: Ugh... oh... almost worth it.  HOLMES: ... what!? WATSON: The pain. To see that look on your face. A great heart... as well as a great mind. HOLMES: Nonsense... I was merely worried about the surgeon’s bills. WATSON, bellows out a single laugh. HOLMES, tenderly: Here. L-l-let me look. WATSON: Oh no, it’s nothing Holmes. I should know it. It’s just a scratch. EVANS, groans in the background. WATSON: Did you shoot the fellow? HOLMES: No. The second shot was his also. But I laid my revolver along the side of his head. Wild West, indeed. – Watson, you are certain? WATSON: It’s just a scratch, Holmes. Honestly.

Then, Holmes first turns into the Hulk and then towards Evans, and if I ever heard a man speak through gritted teeth, then this is it.

And that following exchange features, honestly, the best non-canonical line of dialogue in Holmesian history:

EVANS: Say, what did you hit me with? HOLMES, not missing a single beat: JUSTICE!

But... it gets worse.

Evans gets arrested, and we get to see Watson and Holmes in Baker Street after the incident, where Holmes dresses Watson’s wounds – or at least he tries to, until Watson insists on doing it on his own, because Holmes is rubbish at it. Holmes then starts pacing around in the living room like an expectant father, “But is there nothing I can do??”

Watson tells him that he’d very much like to smoke a cigar, which leads to Holmes rummaging in the pockets of Watson’s coat.

And you’ve guessed it: Of course he finds The Box.

Cue: awkward moment where Watson tells him, for the first time, about his plans to get re-married.

And Holmes starts sulking, because Watson is about to leave him alone. Again.

But, it gets worse!

Suddenly, Lestrade calls. Holmes at first thinks this is about a case mentioned in passing earlier in the episode, but it is actually news about Nathan Garrideb: As you know, he didn’t take it too well that he never found a third Garrideb in Birmingham, and Lestrade now informs Holmes that Nathan got sent to a mental asylum. 

And... Holmes and Watson visit him there!

They happen to meet Saunders in Nathan’s room, who sadly ponders about the fact that Nathan was always so lonely during his lifetime, and that this isn’t healthy, and that this certainly contributed to the fact that his mind now snapped. 

Nathan eventually has a moment of clarity and recognises Holmes. After gifting his collection of bees to Holmes (...), he hopefully asks if Holmes came to tell him that he found the third Garrideb after all. Holmes, of course, has to decline, but he promises Nathan to find the man, if he exists.

But how, Nathan then exclaims in despair, can Holmes not know this! Holmes must know! He must know everything!!

So, the episode where Watson realises that Holmes does, in fact, love him, ends with an emotionally crushed and forsaken Holmes pondering about his retirement and keeping bees.

And that, my friends, is the most heart-breaking adaptation of 3GAR I have ever listened to.

[vertanimeni]

the ice will start to break, the day will fade away (9/18)

Summary:

“Have you heard? The Elephant of Caocin has committed high treason!”

From Trikru’s most reputable war hero to Trikru’s most wanted traitor, Kova found themselves stripped of their titles and trapped between a clan that wants them dead and a camp of invaders - the same ones who kidnapped and tortured their brother.

But Kova was willing to do anything to stay alive and keep their family together.

Pairing: Bellamy Blake/Grounder OC

Word Count: 5,040

TW: Canon typical violence, virus outbreak/illness, Wells fingers and phantom pain, "Medical Procedure" if you could call it that + Some nasty stuff*, PTSD + Traumatic Memories*

*Note, Nasty part starts with "The morning came and went" and ends with "The ramp of the dropship". Includes vomit and blood. **Note, Traumatic memories is the italicized part starting with "A mountain road" to "bows and arrows in hand" if you want to skip that.

I’ll be leaving a summary at the bottom just in case anyone wants to skip.

A/N: Hello friends!! This chapter... is a lot. Sorry it took so long, finals week was pretty rough and I didn’t have time to edit it until recently. I’m yeeting Kova back at y’all. If you’re reading through my blog, the read more does not show up due to Tumblr’s new formatting, so please click on the post itself. As of right now, I will be updating every Friday at 4pm EST. Enjoy, and please read the trigger warnings! It’s a heavy chapter.

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ix. impotent (or not).

When the curtained entrance of the dropship fluttered, a wave of much needed fresh air entered and spread throughout the three levels. Unfortunately, this also meant the delinquents camping near the dropship would get hit with a wave of pained groans and the murky scent of old blood. Under Clarke’s orders, those delinquents had to move their tents away, and no one was allowed to enter the dropship, with very few exceptions.

Wells was one of these few exceptions, and he wished he wasn’t, as much as he hated the thought.

He could barely hear himself think, let alone have some (desperately needed) alone time. With every delinquent he attended to, two more would try to kick the bucket, and some of them had even refused his help. It was needless to say why, given his status within the group, but that didn’t stop the shock and irritation gathering at the pit of his stomach.

And it was barely dawn — much too early for this bullshit. At some point, he snapped when a group of delinquents at Death’s door rejected his help, complaining of the pain and mocking him in the same breath. “Listen,” Wells had grit out, hands clenching into fists, “either you let me take care of you all, or I’ll let Kova and Murphy deal with it.”

The way the group looked like they had bit into a particularly sour lemon gave Wells a satisfaction he hadn’t known was possible.

Oh yes, Kova (and surprisingly Murphy) had offered their services to help Clarke with the sick. Last time Wells saw Kova, they had changed into old, worn out clothes and their long dreads had been pulled back in a low bun, all done as if they had had experience with handling the sick. Most delinquents had only allowed Kova’s help when they were told the only other option would be Murphy.

Needless to say, the group fell quiet after that.

Wells was already stressed out to the max, even with three people working by his side. Wells and Murphy took care of those who had started improving while Kova and Clarke would take care of the sick at at death’s door.

Every once in a while someone would switch over when somebody needed a break, but Clarke wouldn’t allow Murphy and Kova to work together, not after their fifth argument before the sun could even peak over the horizon. He had no idea how Clarke had originally planned on helping the infected all by herself, and frankly, he didn’t think he would be able to handle her answer.

“Wells!”

Speaking of. “Yeah?”

“Could you leave a bowl of water by Eva? Don’t worry about finding a cloth, Kova’s on that.”

“Yup!”

He grabbed an unused bowl and reached into the water bucket, only to find it empty. He picked it up and made his way to the front of the dropship. Wells couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Something told him it wasn’t Kova - they had a habit of bringing in a new bucket once the old bucket was only 1/4th full. ‘I already reminded Murphy to replace it before.’

At the front of the dropship, the water crew were kind enough to leave them a row of filled buckets, replaced every half hour. Thoughts preoccupied, he picked up a heavy bucket with his injured hand, curling non-existent digits around the handle. Pain shot up his nerves and the bucket tumbled out of his grip. He recoiled, waiting for the clatter of metal against metal—

“Careful.”

He didn’t realized he had clenched his eyes tight until he heard the familiar voice. He forced his eyes open, only to see the top of a boot holding up the handle of the bucket. Kova stood before him, balancing on one foot, a bundle of clean(ish) rags in their hands. Slowly, they brought up one of their legs and took the bucket with their free hand.

“You strained your fingers.” They pointed out with a jut of their head.

Still in a state of shock from the sudden pain, he looked down at the bandages, now blotted with blood at the stump, and a meek “Oh” left his lips.

Before he could say anything else, Kova put aside the bucket and the bundle of cloths and took his head in theirs. The pain had dulled down to a throbbing ache, but still, he flinched, urging his body to not move away as much as he desperately wanted to, but he was surprised to find that their fingers were gentle despite calloused, nimble, and most importantly, confident. “You seem like you know what you’re doing.” He commented.

“Not my first time handling amputations.” A far-off look glazed over their eyes, one that Wells had seen a few times already when Kova thought of home (or, at least, that’s what he thought). “It feels like your fingers are still there, right? You try to curl them, but it only hurts?”

“How’d you know?”

“I’ve seen patients who lost appendages at the joint during my internship years.” The corners of Kova’s lips upturned, not enough for a smile, not a grimace either. “When they try to curl with a prosthetic, the nerves flare up in the only way they can — through pain.” 

Now, that was a lot to unpack. Wells could only manage to say, “Sorry, you—? Patients?”

“Mn.” They dropped his hands. “I used to work in prosthetic handling before all this. Find Clarke and ask her to check if the stitching popped.”

“Sure, after I do this real quick.” Wells reached for the bucket—

The placed their arm across the bucket. “I got it. You deal with that first.”

For the first time in a while, anger sparked in his stomach. “I’m not fragile—”

“I never said you were. Unless you have a death wish, you shouldn’t be helping a bunch of sick people with an open wound.”

Ah. That… That’s fair. Wells glanced between Kova and the bucket. They weren’t planning on relenting any time soon. “Yeah. Alright. I’ll find Clarke real quick, but…” He hesitated, “do you mind if I… I just have a few questions—”

“Find me afterwards.” They nodded. “I can try my best to answer.”

He had never looked for Clarke faster.

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It was only when the sick would cough up less blood, the dropship would grow quieter and quieter, and the crease between Clarke’s eyebrows would start to relax, did Wells get a chance to ask Kova quesions. Although truthfully, when he plopped down next to them around the corner of the Ark during their break, drinking boiled water, all he could think about was how Clarke handled his wounds with such care, the gentleness of her fingers as she unwrapped his bandages, that one stubborn baby hair curling just above her eyebrow, the worry lining around her eyes—

“—Wells.”

He startled out of his thoughts. Blood rushed to his cheeks when he realized Kova had been trying to catch his attention for the better part of the past few minutes. “Ah— Yeah, sorry. I, uh,” He motioned to his hand, hopefully directing attention from his burning cheeks. Kova’s look told him otherwise, but thankfully they obliged and looked away. “I’ve come to terms with it. But. Well. How much do you know about our home in space, the Ark?”

“Octavia explained somewhat at the bridge.”

“To put it simply, the rules there were very strict."

"Death for any crime, even for having a second child.”

Ah. Truthfully, after the initial reveal of the girl under the floor, Wells hadn’t put in a lot of thought about the second child. He was quite young when it happened, and by the time he grew up, he had other things to worry about, like the state of the Ark, his father’s expectations, Clarke, and her family, especially after her father died and she was sent to the Sky Box. To him, the Blakes were just another family torn apart for breaking the rules, just like the Griffins.

But down here, he had to face the consequences of such thinking. Down here, he became eye to eye with the remnants of said broken families. At first, it was difficult to unlearn what his father had taught him, to unlearn that exceptions were not allowed. There was a difference between a 16 year old boy who murdered for fun and an 8 year old girl who stole extra food after her parents had been floated. And now, to explain and try to justify the rules of the Ark, he wondered how he couldn’t see that before.

Regardless, there he was, nursing his boiled water, explaining how his father, the Chancellor, enforced the rules, and how most people wanted revenge by taking vengeance out on him. Not once did Kova give him a pitying or judgmental look (’or, maybe they hid it well,’ his mind unhelpfully supplied.)

“Then, there was this little girl named Charlotte, who watched her parents get floated. She uh…” His hand went up to where the scar on his neck was, laid out for all to see, and his voice wavered. “She tried to kill me. She only nicked me. I tried to stop her, but she swung the knife around and cut my fingers off. I passed out, and she left me there because she thought she killed me.

“I was knocked out for a day and a half from blood loss, shock, and an infection, but they couldn't tell my father I was still alive because they had already lost contact with the Ark. The problem is before all of this happened, Murphy threatened me for the same reason — my father — and Charlotte had used Murphy’s knife. When the camp found the knife, they accused him and tried to punish him in the same way.”

“By trying to kill him?”

He nodded again. “They tried to hang Murphy, but I guess the guilt got to her — she confessed during the hanging. He practically hunted her down and by the end of the day, she killed herself by jumping off a cliff. The group banished Murphy afterwards.”

“And now he’s back.”

“And now he’s back.” He repeated with a heavy sigh. “With a flu.”

The two stared off into the distance, falling quiet. “The son shall not bear the sins of the father,” Kova quoted, turning to him, “but the son should acknowledge his father’s mistakes. This,” they gestured behind them, to the dropship, “is not your fault. You and your father just so happened to be connected to it.”

“Is it not the same?”

“No, They’re different.” But, if he had asked them three years ago, they would have said the opposite. This was no longer a few years ago.

The sound of the camp rising and getting to work filled the silence that fell between them, until Kova said, “The pain you feel in your fingers — it’s called phantom pain.”

The fact that there was a name for his condition shouldn’t have made the pain lessen, shouldn’t have made Wells relax a little easily, but it did. A name. It wasn’t just him. “Oh.” He managed to murmur, cradling his hand with the other, gently pressing it against his chest. “Oh.”

Back into silence. He was grateful Kova let him settle with the new information for a moment, but he couldn’t help but ask, “Are you a doctor?”

They couldn’t help but snort. “Not a doctor. Just a prosthetist. I help shape and attach prosthetics to the amputated part. If you want, I can try and find some spare finger prosthetics and fit them for you myself—”

“Why?”

Kova paused. “Why what?”

“I… I don’t mean to sound rude, but why? Why would you do that?”

“…hmm.” How could they possibly explain that their once hateful view of the invaders— no, sky people — changed? That he and the others remind him of the children and teens at their village? Instead, they answered with, “Octavia told me that, besides her, you were the first one who stood up for my brother when Bellamy and Clarke tortured him. I will forever be grateful for that. And…”

“…and?”

“…You remind me of someone.” They left it at that, patting his shoulder and standing up. “C’mon, let’s go back and help your friends.”

Wells stared at them, and for a moment Kova worried he would press for more answered, but in the end all he did was nod, a smile on his face.

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The morning came and went. By the time Wells could take a break, four delinquents had died and Murphy and Kova only got into two arguments. Technically, it wasn’t even a break. He sat outside the dropship on the ramp, eating his rations while updating the other delinquents how the sick were doing. So far, everything had calmed down—

“Make way! We got an infected kid here!”

Wells stood too quickly and his knees cracked. He recognized that voice.

Shocked gasps came from the group of delinquents. They parted, allowing Raven and Fox to pass through, carrying a feverish looking child between them. “Wells! Emmie’s sick, we need help!” Raven called out.

Wells wouldn’t have hesitate to carry Emmie himself if it weren’t for his newly bandages hand. With the warnings from both Clarke and Kova in the back of his mind, he didn’t want to risk hurting Emmie or opening his wounds again, so as soon as he heard Raven, he stuck his head through the curtain and called for Kova.

Fox already had skin as pale as river rocks from the nearby stream and was just as anxious as the disturbed tadpoles by its shore, but she blanched further and her hands trembled at the call of the grounder’s name. Said grounder emerged from the curtains, eyebrows creased in worry, but Fox gripped Emmie’s legs ever so slightly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Raven whirl her head sharply to give her the most angriest look Fox had ever seen on her, as if Raven knew exactly what Fox had been thinking. She couldn’t help but flinch as Raven opened her mouth—

“You can trust them.” A voice interrupted from the side. Fox turned to the crowd around them. She saw Finn jut his head towards the grounder. “Kova has been helping Clarke and the others all night and morning. They know what they’re doing.”

Seemingly composed, Kova wordlessly dipped their head in gratitude, but Fox noticed the uncertain tremble in their hands. Finn acknowledged it with his own nod.

Wells placed a comforting hand on her arm (when did he get so close?) and Fox looked down at the young girl she had been taking care of since they landed. Her breaths came short and rapid, her forehead beading with sweat and creased with a pained frown.

Without realizing, Fox nodded. Her arms, shaking with Emmie’s weight, relaxed as she and Raven passed the girl to Kova’s arms. With one arm across her back and the other holding up her legs, Kova hoisted Emmie on their hip and sped back to the dropship, calling out “Wells, let’s go!” over their shoulder.

But with the sudden change in position, a wave of nausea and dizziness hit Emmie quite suddenly. Her body tensed and saliva built up in her mouth and throat—

Years of training couldn’t stop the falter in their step, the disgusted shiver running up their spine, nor the goosebumps scattering across their arms as Emmie promptly vomited streaks of bile and blood over Kova’s shoulder, some of it catching on their clothes.

Well, not really their clothes, thankfully. But still.

Wells ran into the dropship first. The group of delinquents gasped and gagged, even as the two made their way inside.

At first, Kova thought the wet spot on their shoulder was vomit and had pointedly ignored it. Until Emmie started trembling, her forehead against their shoulder, and the wet spot grew bigger with every audible sniff.

“It’s alright, I got you.” They soothingly rubbed her back. “I’m here.”

“Kova, I’m sorry.”

“Here!” Wells suddenly called out.

“Coming! What are you apologizing for?”

“Vomiting on you.” Her voice cracked with another sob.

“No need. That’s not something you need to apologize for, but if it helps, I forgive you.”

Emmie nodded against their shoulder and Kova gently placed her on the makeshift bed. “I’m scared.” Another sniff, another whimper, and her arms wrapped around herself across her middle. “My stomach hurts.”

Their hands clenched into fists, but Kova kept them out of sight. There was nothing worse than seeing someone else in pain and not being able to do anything about it. Before they could speak, Wells stood and said, “It’s alright, we’ll take care of you. I’ll get water.”

Kova watched him leave until they felt a small hand on their knee.

“How come you’re not wearing the mask today?” Emmie’s question came with a shortening of breath and a weak smile that faltered with every wave of pain.

Ah. That’s why they felt lighter together. “I left it at my tent. Why, is it strange to see my face? Am I scary? Should I go get it?” They couldn’t help but tease, wiggling their eyebrows ever so slightly.

With every question, Emmie’s grin grew wider and wider and she shook her head vigorously. But one wrong move and her body tensed, her smile became a grimace, and her hands fisted her shirt across her middle, sweaty and clammy.

Wells came back and sent Kova a look, but they didn’t let even a hint of panic show on their face, and instead calmly asked, “Emmie, could you take a deep breath for me?”

She tried, but her chest hitched after a certain point. She winced and shook her head. “It hurts too much.”

“I see. You’re probably just sore from vomiting. Would you like for me to put your hair up?” They pushed back a curl making its way towards her eye. “So it’s out of your face?”

“Could you put it in a bun?”

“Mn. Wells, could you get a hair tie from Clarke?” Wells nodded, but before he could stand up, Kova caught his sleeve and whispered, “She has a hemothorax. Get Clarke. Bring a needle.”

Not wanting to alert Emmie, he nodded and left as fast as he could. Meanwhile, Kova kept her occupied and dipped a rag into the bowl Wells brought. “I see you’ve learnt my name. I will admit, I will miss being called ‘pretty stranger.’”

Emmie gave them a weak smile. “Fox told me after I bumped into you.”

“Ah. The girl outside? The one holding you?”

“The one with straight hair is Fox, but the one with the ponytail is Raven.”

Raven… Kova felt they had seen her before when it hit them — the meeting at the bridge. She was one of the gunners. “I see.” They dabbed at her forehead with the damp rag. “Are you close with both of them?”

“Yeah! Fox hangs out with the kids around here, mostly to keep us out of trouble, but before we landed I never really talked to her, but I knew she existed.”

If Kova hadn’t known much about the Ark, they would have been confused, but it made sense — of course Emmie would at the very least know of Fox’s existence, since the Ark was a closed and tight population, but that didn’t mean they really knew each other. “Right, right.”

“Same thing with Raven, but I think she’s, uh, an… en… engineer?”

“Raven’s a mechanic.” Came a voice from behind. “Don’t let her hear you call her an engineer, or she’ll get really upset.” Clarke dragged the word out playfully before she dropped to her knees besides Kova. Wells came up behind the two and passed Kova a hair tie before going to check on the other patients. “I heard you’re not feeling good, is that right?”

Emmie nodded, her head lolling loosely. “My chest was hurting, but now my back hurts too.”

“I see. Do you think you can roll on your side for us?”

She nodded once more, and with the help of Clarke and Kova, she rolled onto her left side. She coughed once, twice, then after the third time each cough came out deep and rattled. Kova sent Clarke a questioning look.

“It’s pretty common, I wouldn’t worry about it.” Clarke assured them—

—Blood splattered across the blanket, the floor, and specks landed on Kova’s knees. A scared whimper, more blood, and Emmie’s breathing came in quick and shallow—

“Lay her down on her back!” Clarke ordered.

Kova did so, and when Clarke took out the needle from behind her back, they blocked Emmie’s view of it.

“Kova—”

“I’m here.”

“It hurts!”

“I know, I know,” They gathered her hair into a bun, using the sweat beading at her forehead to keep strays away from her face. “It will get better, I’m here. Give it time.”

Kova only realized that no, it wouldn’t get better with time, when Clarke said, “It’s not working.”

They leaned back and tapped Well’s leg, silently grateful he was still close by, and motioned for him to keep Emmie occupied. As soon as her hazy attention switched from them to Wells, Kova moved next to Clarke. “What’s not working?”

She stuck the needle at a different angle and pulled the plunger back. “Her blood pressure is too low, I don’t think she’s eaten or drank anything today, and the blood isn’t coming out—!” 

With a pop!, the plunger came off of the syringe.

What… What kind of luck?

Alerted by the sound, Wells looked back, only to turn back to Emmie with the most neutral face he could possibly manage. Clarke and Kova stared at the plunger, hanging uselessly from the former’s fingertips.

As quietly as possible, Kova gritted out, “Get another one.”

“That was the last one. Bellamy sent out a team to get more from the bunker, but I don’t know how long it’ll take.”

“Those are over 200 years old—” Kova cut themselves off with a deep breath, closing their eyes. When they opened up again, both Clarke and Wells were sweating with anxiety. “Alright. Fine.” They pulled out the syringe and twisted the barrel off, leaving just the needle and its hilt. They turned to Clarke. “Get me two buckets — one empty, one with water — and a cup.”

“What are you—”

They stuck the needle in, just slightly lower than where it had been last time. Emmie flinched, and Kova patted her arm with an apologetic smile. Then they leaned forward—

With a sharp intake of breath, Clarke stumbled onto their feet and ran off. Alerted by the clatter, Wells glanced back only to turn and give his full attention to Emmie with a conversation on food, discreetly scooting closer to block her from the view.

Kova’s ears perked up at the sound of one heavy and one light clank in front of them, and one softer clank closer to their face. They reached for the empty bucket and spat out blood before returning to the hilt of the needle.

They repeated this until halfway through the fourth suck, Kova suddenly flinched. But before Clarke could react, they pulled the bucket underneath and spat out the last of the blood in their mouth while blood flowed freely from the needle. Emmie’s breathing, albeit shaky, deepened, and her eyes fluttered closed. Clarke checked her vitals with two fingers on her wrist and nodded. “She’s alright.”

A cup filled with water entered their vision. Kova took it with a thanks and swished it in their mouth before spitting it into the bucket of blood. Wells wordlessly took the cup, filled it with water, and passed it back. The two repeated this for a while until the tang of stale metal lessened. After Kova spat out their last swish, they said, “The blood.”

“What?”

“It tastes old.” Kova paused and looked between the two. “We will have to check on the others for early signs of hemothoraces, too.”

“Ah. Right,” Clarke nodded weakly, “of course. Here.” She offered a napkin, but Kova shook their head and gently pushed her hand back.

“Save it for her and the others.” They wiped their mouth with the end of their sleeve, smearing blood across their cheek. “I will…” They looked down at their dirtied clothes. “Go to my tent. And wash up.” They paused. “Will you two—”

“Please go. Take your time.”

“We’ll watch her.”

“…mn. Thanks.”

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The ramp of the dropship creaked as Kova made their way down, but instead of heading to their tent, they turned and walked around the corner of the dropship. As soon as they were out of sight from the rest of the camp, they braced themselves against the wall with a forearm and dry heaved. They gasped for breath—

A mountain road. Hundreds of dead bodies at its feet. The ends of a long jacket fluttered against their calves, cut apart with a rough knife, leaving threads to hang loosely. Fabric covered the lower half of their face. The pungent tang of blood coating their tongue. Throat so sore they just want to stick their fingers down inside and scratch—

They stumbled up the steep road alongside their fellow warriors (ones they had sent on a death mission—) Dehydrated, exhausted, bleeding out. It was a wonder how they got so far up before they finally collapsed. They can't move. Any fight they might have had disperses when their body finally— finally —slumped against the cold ground. They close their eyes. They rest. And they wait.

“Duck!”

Their eyes snap open at the sounds of bodies dropping around them. Kova found themselves face to face with one of their warriors, a young one at that, staring at them with wide eyes, body seizing as if trying to reject, trying to fight the two arrows stuck in their neck, and far too suddenly to be natural, the warrior stilled, but not before coughing out a last burst of blood, specking across Kova’s face. They flinched.

A thunder of footsteps tremble the mountain against their ear. Kova looked down, still at dirt level, only to see Azgeda’s army sprinting up the road, bows and arrows in hand—

“—Kova? You okay? Did something happen?”

Someone’s hand lightly grasped their shoulder, and even though being touched was the last thing they wanted, the warmth seeping through their shoulder grounded them, pulled them back from where they were spiraling towards. Instead of leaning against the wall, they found themselves sitting against it. They let out a deep breath, trying to calm down. “Yeah. I’m alright.” They turned to the voice—

Ah. The girl from before. Raven. Kova couldn’t control their shocked look, and Raven’s eyebrows creased in concern. “I saw you run back here. What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine.” The last thing they wanted to talk about was on their mind—

“You don’t look it.”

They looked down at their trembling, clammy hands. She had a point. They let out a resigned sigh. “Children.”

“What?”

“You have children here.”

“…yeah. We have more on the Ark.”

“The people down here are prisoners. They committed crimes. How do children commit crimes?” Raven fell silent. Kova continued. “Not just that, but Trikru knows.”

“Your clan? What do they know?”

“That you have children here.” They looked around the dense forest around. Now that they thought about it, they hadn’t seen any scout activities, nor did they hear about any grounders running around from the sky people. Did they leave already? “Trikru knew. But they still sent Murphy here with this disease. That breaks the Coalition Conventions.”

Raven was still silent, as if she were waiting for Kova to get all their thoughts out.

“Disgusting.” They spat to the side, far away on the poor grass. “I never would have expected them to go this far. They claim they want vengeance for the lives lost by the invaders, but how can they take vengeance knowing there are innocent children? Non-combatants? None of you all know what you’re doing, you had no idea there were people living here.” They took a deep breath. “Your people aren’t right, but neither are mine.” They couldn’t help but let out a loud, bitter laugh. Raven eyed them, as if watching someone break their sanity. “And somehow, you all had the luck to land here during a time of political unrest and the instability of the Coalition.

They hadn’t meant to spiral into a rant, but they were tired. They just didn’t realize how much until they planned the bridge scenario with Lincoln that one fateful day, and now? Now, here they are.

They snapped their head up, Raven watching them with wide eyes and a parted mouth. “My apologies, I shouldn’t have—”

“No, no, you’re good. I just—” Raven let out a light laugh, shoulders slumping with relief, as if Kova’s rant took off a heavy burden. “I wasn’t expecting that. Nice to know there’s someone on our side.” She lightly bumped her shoulder against theirs.

“Like I said, you all aren’t in the right, either. But,” They sent her a small reassuring smile, dipping their head slightly, and said, “neither is Trikru. And I’m not the only one thinking that.”

“Mmh, I sure hope so. Is…” Raven paused, glancing to the dropship. “Is Emmie okay?”

“Yeah. She had an issue with her lungs. But she was getting better, last time I saw her.”

“Good, good. Well, you definitely have my full support now.” She sent them a grin.

“Mn.” The corners of their mouth upticked. “You thought I was trying to sneak back to Trikru, didn’t you.”

Her eyes widened and she sputtered, her cheeks darkening slightly. “No! I mean. Well— Yeah. Sorry about that.”

“I think that was the first time I’ve ever seen proper security around here. Don’t apologize. Trust your gut.” They would have done the same if the situation were reversed, after all. “I’m glad you did. Want to come check on Emmie with me?”

“God, yes please. Fox has been going crazy in her tent.”

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A summary of TW notes for those who didn't want to read:

1) Illness - Same illness as before, the virus Murphy spread. More people are sick.

2) Wells' fingers - He tried to pick up a bucket with the wrong hand and ended up with phantom pain, something he didn't know was a real thing until Kova talked to him about it.

3) Medical Procedure + Nasty Stuff - Emmie gets sick with the virus and vomits. She also has a hemothorax, so Kova uses an unconventional way to drain the blood build up in her chest. I'm not a medical expert and wouldn't recommend doing it that way, but I've seen this done in my home village in Ecuador where there aren't many good/non-corrupted doctors. And it’s gross lol.

4) PTSD + Traumatic Memories - After #3, Kova recalls a traumatic memory from Mount Caocin that implies that they a) had to deal with this virus multiple times before, b) had done the unconventional way to drain the blood before, and c) had vaguely suicidal thoughts during their Mount Caocin era.

[thatgirlintheaudience]

Jagged Little Pill: Our New Musical

Spoilers ahead and WARNING: review contains references to drug use and sexual violence 

Act 1: 

Is this the best overture of all time? Yes, yes it is. I don't care. The second it started I screamed like what a rush of energy. That harmonica, damn Alanis. And then as it began and the chorus came out, I already started crying. Just a rush of emotions in one minute. It was crazy. I love when they say “around and around” and they move their finger in a circle. I just think it’s cool and I love this choreography and ensemble so much. Like, the chorus is such a driving force in this show. I cannot praise them enough. And Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui’s choreography is just breathtaking. Totally unique and inventive. Nothing like I’ve seen on Broadway before. Enter the Healy family (I love them!). 

All I Really Want just explains the frustration Frankie and Mary Jane feel at the world and at each other. It is crazy how perfectly Alanis’ music fits into this story and into 2020. This is a huge credit to book writer Diablo Cody who created the Healy family and this story to match with the music. Bravo! Let’s just say when each song started the man behind me said “Wow” every time. Like he realized how perfect each song went with the story/character. Just a reminder that I did see this show in its world premiere in Boston so I went in knowing certain things and may compare both productions. “I’m frustrated by your apathy” is such a good line. And they changed the lyric to “spiritual woman” and they lift up Ebony Williams as the spiritual woman. And when Frankie says, “what I wouldn’t give to find a soul mate,” MJ looked like aw I really want a soul mate for my daughter. And when Frankie says “here can you handle this?” she holds up a sign saying “fear doesn't belong in our schools.” Then when Frankie says “all I really want is a wave length” she’s sitting at the table with MJ and reaches over for her hand as if she is desperately reaching for her mother’s attention and affection. And then Frankie and MJ basically have a belt off and boy do I love it. Although I miss when MJ would stand on top of the chair and belt because that was awesome. Now she runs up to the front of the stage. And then the commotion builds and MJ takes her pills which is when the song dies out and she sighs in relief. 

In Hand in My Pocket they clap and have a dance break. It’s really fun. Before Smiling we see MJ desperately trying to refill her prescription and being denied. It’s a really heartbreaking scene because she is so desperate and she says “no, I’m just a mom who got in a fender bender” like she tries to deny her addiction and pretend she is fine. Then she goes to the Connecticut Muffin and meets three snobby town moms. Shout out to Laurel Harris who plays one of the moms, the school teacher and Jo’s mom. She's perfect in every role and as a member of the chorus. Anyway these moms are totally obsessed with appearance and after this MJ meets with her drug dealer and Smiling begins which is a song that is performed backwards. Yes, backwards! It goes through MJ at the Connecticut Muffin, the grocery store, soul cycle, and ends at home when she drops her pill bottle and Steve picks it up. It is such a challenging number but it totally pays off for the look and emotion it gives. I mean, Ezra Menas jump ropes backwards! C’mon now. 

In Ironic, when Frankie is reading her piece out loud all the kids are making fun of her because nothing is actually ironic and Phoenix is just fed up and sticks up for her. The spotlight is only on him when he is watching Frankie and I find it really cute. And when Frankie goes “it’s like meeting the boy of my dreams and then meeting his…” and Phoenix goes “I’m not seeing anyone.” Wow, my heart. And then their voices join together and it is like angels singing. I’m obsessed, can’t you tell? I feel like I could have used a Phoenix in some of my English classes, you feel me? SO UNSEXY. Sorry, I just love this song and Sean Allan Krill’s voice is beautiful. When Steve sings, “I can feel so unsexy to someone so beautiful” he’s at work and looks at a framed photo of MJ. Ugh. In Boston, they looked at their bodies in the mirror which I missed because I think that really justifies the song, but I’m just glad they kept it in because it’s a great song and I recommend listening to Alanis’ version as well as Alanis’ version of all these songs. 

So before Perfect we have a scene between Nick and MJ. This scene as well as placing Perfect in act one was a change for Broadway and I thought it worked better. MJ is decorating their Christmas tree and has the manger scene out when she reminds Nick about how much he loved the lamb when he was little. MJ tells him how she believes he is the only thing she has done right in her life as she reiterates later in the show as well. When singing Perfect, Nick decides to go to this party and I saw it as his act of rebellion. He later states in the show something about “why does he have to be the perfect, steady person that everyone leans on and relies on?” When MJ reads his note about leaving for the party she sits on the couch and sadly looks at the lamb. :( And what a perfect (lol) song for Nick to sing and Derek just executes it with so much emotion. “Why are your cryingggggg?” Ugh!

For the party they sing So Pure. Yes! So basically, Bella, Andrew, Phoenix, Nick and Frankie show up at this party although the Healy kids and Phoenix are not party kids or that experienced with parties. In this scene we can see Bella clearly intoxicated and Andrew dragging her around and leading her off stage. Meanwhile, Phoenix and Frankie leave the party. Phoenix and Frankie sit on a swing set as they introduce their family lives to each other. Phoenix reveals he has a single mother and a very sick sister. When Frankie asks him if he could change his family, would he? He replies that he wouldn't change his family, but himself. If only he could be a better person maybe things would be different. Frankie agrees completely and they sing That I Would Be Good. Cue me shouting that this may be my favorite performance in Broadway history. I’m a huge fan of this song and to have it paired with this story and these characters is just EVERYTHING. Just gonna shout out Antonio because not only does he play Phoenix but he is also in the chorus and he sings like this! Talent! And Jo’s part in this? Don’t even get me started. We see her mom putting her in these girly clothes and when Phoenix goes “that I would be loved” Jo replies, “am I loved?” ...Did you hear my heart break? And the crack and rawness in Lauren’s voice when she goes, “even when I am oooooverwwwhelmmmmed.” Plus Jo sings “Everything is fucked when you’re not here” which I think shows how much she loves Frankie and relies on her. Then the 3 of their voices together. It's just magic. I highly recommend this show! And I just want to shout out how well I think the show represents their teen characters. All the teen characters are so multidimensional and are each going through their own set of troubles. They are seen as human beings who are just as flawed as the parents. 

WAKE UP. WAKE UP. Okay, maybe this was my favorite performance? Who can say at this point? We now know Bella has been raped by Andrew and that Nick was a witness and didn’t stop it. Jo and Frankie go to Bella’s house, where Kathryn Gallagher gives a haunting rendition of the events that happened at the party leaving the audience silent. When Frankie confronts Nick, he explains how Bella was drunk and how she can be dramatic. MJ comes in and also explains to Frankie how these things happen all the time and we need to be responsible for our own actions. Cue the song. The chorus taunts Nick in this song and it is like the voices screaming in his head. They also show Bella and Andrew talking to the police. Then for Broadway they brought in these moving walls. So during this song, MJ and other characters are being pushed on these walls. Frankie also sings a part of Hands Clean in this number, another song that corresponds to Bella’s experience. It’s a number that just builds and gets chaotic and when they start singing, “get up, get outta here, enough already” and it just ends with WAKE UP. WOW. Wake up, talk about a relevant 2020 message. 

Forgiven is an absolutely smashing act one finale. Elizabeth Stanley is truly giving the performance of a lifetime. Her voice is insanity. It is sad I did not know her before this show. When they are shouting “sinner” and “witch,” Bella comes in and stands in the center as the chorus surrounds her and MJ watches. There is also red lighting. This also takes place in a church. And it starts snowing and the whole cast comes out and it is just so powerful. 

Act 2: 

Act two starts with Hands Clean (an amazing song) and Not the Doctor as MJ and Steve go to therapy. Steve really opens up about how MJ is an amazing woman and mother. Then Phoenix and Frankie come out and both couples, but mostly Frankie and Phoenix sing Head Over Feet which is such a good song and scene. Celia and Antonio’s chemistry is amazing and they are so cute. Don’t believe me, then watch this insanely adorable music video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sHilyL6YfYU Also they are climbing the swing set ladder during this number and the swing set literally spins in a circle as Frankie hangs off of it living her best life. It is just a pure cute number. 

So after this spoiler: Frankie and Phoenix have sex and Jo sings Your House as she walks in on them. And Your House is done acapella! Jo tells MJ and Steve leading to a huge fight between Frankie and her parents and she leaves for New York City and sings Unprodigal Daughter. Honestly, it is heartbreaking watching Jo experience Frankie’s betrayal. I believe it is at this moment that MJ and Steve have a huge fight where Steve yells, “No wonder she {Frankie} hates you.” Elizabeth and Sean are amazing together and this fight was so raw and real. Sean recently said that 95% of his performance relies and is in response to MJ/ Elizabeth which is so true. Anyway when Frankie  arrives in NYC, a person comes up to her and sings “You from New York, you are so relevant.” This is a line from So Pure and I thought it was cool how they sneaked that in. I’m not sure if Alanis meant the line to be sarcastic or real but I understand both interpretations. Anyway UNPRODIGAL DAUGHTER is everything. If you have ever fought with your parents, hated your small town or wanted to run away to be with people who understood you, this. Is. your. Jam! And Frankie sells it, I mean this song was meant for her. She’s in NYC  with all these cool, understanding people and they lift her up at the end like she is a queen on the throne. And the band, THE BAND, is onstage rocking out!!! The band is amazzzzing. They were having so much fun. 

Bella sings Predator which is a song written for the show. This scene details Bella at the party, only Heather Lang is playing Bella as Kathryn watches it happen. Lang specifically dances as MJ and Bella. Throughout act one, she gets real close to MJ and is acting as her conscious/addiction. MJ watches this scene as Bella lays on the bed and is then replaced by MJ as we have found out that MJ was also raped in college. It is a haunting number. There is also a scene when Bella asks MJ how long it took for her to feel normal again and she fails to give her an answer. 

You Oughta Know. I will say: believe the hype. But honestly believe the hype about the whole show, not just this one number. So Jo comes to get Frankie from New York and she starts this number quiet and then it builds up and the chorus and band come out. Everyone already knows how amazing this song is but Lauren really does elevate it to another level and brings a whole extra layer of emotions. Her dancing and frustration and singing with the band rocking out is just an awesome experience. There is red lighting and it is just a killer moment. 

At the end of this song Frankie gets a text about her Mom and we see MJ on the couch overdosing. She sings Univinited and Heather Lang dances in this number. Elizabeth’s voice and just her movements and shaking in this scene is unbelievable. And just the backing vocals and music make it so powerful. It just sounds like a war and battle between MJ and her addiction. Bella also sings parts of this song which I found fascinating. The connection between Bella and MJ is explored more on Broadway. Also when MJ overdoses, the lights flash three times. So the lights flash and we see Steve finding MJ, then lights flash we see Nick on the phone, lights flash, there’s a doctor putting an oxygen mask on MJ. This was a new addition to Broadway I believe and I loved it. They do a similar thing in Hedwig and I just love it. 

When they arrive at the hospital, Steve cannot believe the drugs MJ was on and refuses to believe she was a drug addict. He asks the doctor, “does she look like a drug addict to you?” And the doctor replies, “what do you think a drug addict looks like?” The audience felt that line. It is so true. This can happen to anyone. Mary Jane is filled with so much emotion. Steve really does love MJ and I love the backing vocals in this. Krill is amazing as Steve. “No” is powerful. Each person that sings stands in the middle and is touched by other chorus members. And all the signs are powerful and then Nick lifts his that says: Stand with Survivors. And can I belt like Kathryn? I wish. Then it ends with them standing in a line at the front of the stage and and Nick and Bella sing “it’s easy not to, so much easier not to”. Just the reprises of Wake Up in multiple songs gives me shivers. Wake Up drives so much of the show. I think before No there is a scene with the chorus members on their phones tweeting and texting nasty things about Bella and then they hold their phones out to the audience. I think this is just a reminder of how much social media and technology has changed us and how we have to remember to be nice!

Then MJ and Frankie make up during Thank U. Thank U and You Learn are just the two best songs to end a show with. They are filled with so much healing, and hope which is exactly what this show is about. And when MJ is sending the new Christmas letter she goes, “yeah I’m pretty messed up” and then she goes, “no, I’m perfectly imperfect.” We say this all the time to ourselves but we have to start believing it. No one is perfect. We are all perfectly imperfect. We all put up these appearances and try to hide our sadness from the world. There is so much human beings go through and if you are a human being you are going to love Jagged Little Pill. It is a human story. It is healing and powerful and makes you feel all the emotions. It ends with Frankie grabbing MJ’s hand. It is a beautiful show and I think very person on this planet should see it. If you wanna talk about this show (or any show) or about the stage door, feel free to message me. Thank U Jagged Little Pill and the Jagged Little Community. 

[holly-hep]

The Beauty of Being Numb | Klaus Hargreeves x Reader

Warning: Drug use, alcohol abuse, swearing

Index

Chapter one: We Only See Each Other at Weddings and Funerals

When someone knocked on the door that morning, (Y/N) had already been waiting in her room for hours. She had thought the best way to introduce herself to the siblings was to welcome them individually as soon as they entered the house.

But when she peeks up the stairs and sees a giant man with a serious face and watery eyes, she immediately backs away. She runs back to her room trying not to make too much noise, and locks herself, heart pounding like a drum.

-Miss (Y/N), are you all right?- Pogo asks as the girl tries to control her hasty breathing.

-Yes, I just think I’ll wait for Klaus to arrive. Maybe it will be easier for all of us when he’s here.

-Okay, miss- Pogo walks to the stairs-. Although I doubt it.

(Y/N) looks in the mirror for the hundredth time that day and sits in front of it, on the edge of her chair, to analyze her hair. She wasn’t used to tying it; she didn’t even like it, but right now it seemed like a wonderful idea. She tries to pick up her thick mane in a ponytail, but to her chagrin, she looks more scruffy; so she tries to do some braids. But as she’ve never done it before, she fails miserably at the task.

(Y/N) tiptoes to her door and slowly opens it, looking for Grace so she can help her. She doesn’t see her in her usual place, so she probably was downstairs with Pogo. She hurries to close the door after hearing footsteps coming up the stairs, a tall girl with curls emerging from them.

She is breathless. With someone as dazzling and elegant as that woman, she couldn’t present herself with what appeared to be a nest for hair.

-Miss (Y/N)- Pogo’s voice sounds again as she combs her hair-, Mr. Klaus has arrived.

She freezes, the comb sliding down her fingers and landing gently on her lap. Her cheeks turn red and hot, and her eyes glow. 

-Ummm... have they all arrived yet?

She presses her ear against the door, whispering.

-No, Miss Vanya’s missing.

-Great!- she was just buying time.- I’ll wait until she arrives... And then gather them in the living room, so I can talk to everyone.

-Yes, Miss.

She keeps trying to straighten her hair, but the more she brushes it, the more it fluffed and tangled. It was a nightmare. She just wants to make a good first impression, especially in the circumstances the family is going through.

She thinks it have only been a few minutes when Pogo suddenly opens her door.

-Miss (Y/N), everyone’s waiting for you in the living room.

-So fast?- she turns pale.

-Let’s go.

And without waiting for an answer, Pogo starts walking down the stairs. On edge, the girl picks up a tie-dye scarf hanging from one of her plants and follows the ape, trying to tie it around her hair.

They reach the ground floor and walk to the living room, where she can hear voices and the clink of glass. She stops behind one bookshelf, trying to make up an excuse not to show up.

-Miss Voss- Pogo spoke-, there’ll never be a good time to do this, so go and talk to them.

-I knew I’d have to introduce myself eventually, but I would have preferred Mr. Hargreeves to do it. This isn’t the best time to meet us.

Pogo sees her with stern eyes and points to the room, motioning for her to move.

-I can’t,- she is out of breath, her hands are sweating and her face burns-. If I just go in there, the tallest guy will kill me.

-All right, let me do it for you...

-What...?

Before the girl can finish the sentence, the chimpanzee was already walking towards the siblings, who are sitting in awkward silence.

-Children, there’s someone you must meet- Pogo turns to where (Y/N) was hiding and waits. 

-Ich kann dies tun (I can do this)- she whispers to herself as she shyly emerges from her hiding place.

When she comes out from behind the bookcase and the sunlight illuminates her body, she can see the siblings stiffen and adopt a defensive position.

-Good evening- her accent was thicker than she’d expected.

Her eyes scan the room, searching for a familiar face, desperately trying to rely on him. She stops at the bar where her old friend was pouring some kind of mixture into a glass; he haven’t even noticed her yet.

-My name is (Y/N) Voss- she hopes to be speaking understandable English-. Your father took me under his wing three years ago, and I’ve been living with him ever since. It’s a pleasure to meet you all.

She looks back at the bar, but he hasn’t even turned to look.

-And it’s good to see you again... Klaus- she almost shouts his name so he can hear her.

Klaus raises his head at the mention of his name and almost drops the bottle he was holding when his eyes focused on the source of the voice.

-(Y/N)?- He sounds impressed, but happy at the same time-. The (Y/N) Voss?

-The one and only.

-Hey!

Klaus puts what he is holding on the counter and goes to hug his friend with a wide smile.

-What are you doing here?- he’s amazed, looking at the woman in front of him-. Look at you, you shine like a goddess!

-Thank you. I like your skirt- she laughs when he turns in circles to model.

-It looks better on me than Alisson. It’s a little dated, I know, but it’s very... breathey on the bits.

-Wait!- the previous mention gets up-. Klaus, do you know her?

-Of course, sis! This...- He puts an arm around (Y/N) shoulders-, is my great friend and rehab sister, (Y/N) Voss, the most bohemian bitch since Stevie Nicks.

-Rehabilitation?- Diego asks worried-. Great, we could barely stand one junkie in this house and now we have to deal with another.

-Oh no, I stopped drugs years ago, I’ve been clean for almost four years, my medical record can confirm it. Your father had Grace study me every month since I arrived. Although I can’t say the same for Klaus- she turnes to see him with worried eyes as she takes his wrist-. You just got out of rehab again.

-What can I say, love?- he turnes and goes back to the bar-. I’m a lost cause. By the way, how did you get here?

-I came looking for you three years ago. I got in some trouble- she admits embarrassed- and had nowhere to go. Then I remembered you gave me your address the day you left rehab.

-Which kind of trouble?- Luther asks, distrustful.

-Let’s just say some people have a special interest in my talents.

-Talents?- Diego is as irritated as Luther.

-Oh, you must see what this girl can do!- Klaus sits down beside Vanya with a cup and a bottle full of liquor-. Love, show them.

She turns to see Pogo for approval and the chimp nods. (Y/N) then closes her eyes and when she opens them again, her orbs have turned yellow. To the amazement of the siblings, they all hear a male voice coming from the stairs and seconds later, the reason they are all reunited there enters the room:

-Dad!?- Luther almost screamed. 

-What the fuck?- Diego stands up, impressed.

-Isn’t it amazing!- Klaus points at the man, still holding the bottle-. You can even touch it!

-What?- Alisson stares at her father with confused eyes.

-Miss (Y/N) can create illusions- Pogo walks to her-. Her illusions are so realistic, you can touch, hear, smell, and even taste them.

-She also controls emotions- Klaus takes a sip of his cup-. She can make you fall in love with her in a blink of an eye, literally.

-But I have to touch the person first- (Y/N)’s eyes are still shinning-. Besides, it’s more like an exchange: I give an emotion, and I absorb what the other person was feeling before.

-So you’re like us- the illusion disappears as Luther speaks.

-Of course she’s like us! Why would Dad take her in if not?- Diego is angry.

-I can’t believe he found another one- Vanya is upset but tries to dissimulate it.

-He didn’t found another- Alisson scuffed-. She just showed up at the door and he took the opportunity.

-And are you staying?- Vanya asks-. I mean, Dad’s no longer here.

-Mr. Hargreeves was very clear about letting Miss (Y/N) stay in the house even after his death. She was included in his will like you all.

-She can keep the entire house if she wants- Diego mentions-. I don’t think anyone here wants it... Except for One, maybe.

-I think we have a priority problem here- Luther stands in the middle of the room as (Y/N) sits down on the floor, between Klaus’s legs-. First, what are we doing with Dad?

Everyone looks at him confused.

-I mean... I figured we could have a sort of memorial service in the courtyard at sundown. Say a few words, just at Dad’s favourite spot.

-Dad had a favourite spot?

-Oh, yeah- answers (Y/N) with a smile-. Under the oak tree, we used to read there all the time. Sometimes we even had tea.

Luther looks at her irritated. He considered that a special spot for him and his father. Now this stranger was stealing it from him.

-Right.

-Will there be refreshments?- Klaus is braiding his friend’s hair, a cigarette between his lips. (Y/N) feels like in a dream. She have missed him so much that having him so closed felt surreal-. Tea? Scones? Cucumber sandwiches are always a winner.

-What? No- Luther is about to lose his patience-. And put that out. Dad didn’t allow smoking in here. Now listen up, there are some important things we need to discuss, all right?

-Like what?

-Like the way he died.

-And here we go- Diego starts playing with a knife.

-I don’t understand- (Y/N) thinks Vanya’s voice was like the one of a deer in the lights-. I thought they said it was a heart attack.

-Yeah, according to the coroner.

-Well, wouldn’t they know?

-Theoretically.

-Theoretically?- Allison asks in a mocking tone.

-I’m just saying, at the very least, something happened. The last time I talked to Dad, he sounded strange.

-Oh, quelle surprise!- (Y/N) laughs at the comment.

-Strange how?

-He sounded on edge. Told me I should be careful who to trust.

Luther looks at (Y/N) with suspicion, and the others follow. The girl is too distracted enjoying the feeling of Klaus’s fingers on her skin to notice, but her friend does.

-Hey, don’t you dare point a finger at (Y/N). She’s a ray of sunshine. Just look at her- he hugs her-. She won’t even kill a bug, she’s vegan.

-Your father was a very kind man to me, why would I even want to hurt him?

-Miss (Y/N) had a close relationship with Mr. Hargreeves, she was very affected by his death- Pogo defends her.

-Luther- Diego stands up, bored-. He was a paranoid, bitter old man who was starting to lose what was left of his marbles. Besides, if junkie no. 2 here had tried to harm him, don’t you think Mom would have stopped her?

-He must have known something was going to happen- Luther keeps insisting, then turns to Klaus-. Look, I know you don’t like to do it, but I need you to talk to Dad.

Klaus looks at him with a raised eyebrow while Alisson scoffs. 

-I can’t just call Dad in the afterlife and be like, “Dad, could you just... Stop playing tennis with Hitler for a moment and take a quick call?”

-Since when?- Luther is upset-. That’s your thing. Unless you are trying to protect someone.

-I didn’t kill Sir Reginald- (Y/N) is a bit hurt.

-No! It’s just that I’m not in the right... frame of mind!

-You’re high?- Alisson states. 

-Yeah!- he smiles at her-. Yeah! I mean, how are you not, listening to this nonsense?

-Well, sober up, this is important- Luther points at (Y/N)-. You, can’t you make him feel better so he can talk to our Dad?

-I could, but I’m not forcing Klaus to do something he hates.

-Thanks, love- he kisses her on the forehead and she can’t help but smile.

-Do you know at least where is Dad’s monocle?- Luther is getting more violent towards her.

-Who gives a shit about a stupid monocle?- Diego whispers. 

-Exactly- Luther’s still looking at (Y/N)-. It’s worthless. So whoever took it, I think it was personal. Someone close to him. Someone with a grudge or interest.

-Where are you going with this?- even though he tends to be happy while high, Klaus is getting mad at his brother.

-Oh, isn’t it obvious, Klaus?- Diego interrupts-. He thinks your girlfriend killed Dad... Or one of us, perhaps.

-I’m not his girlfriend- (Y/N) whispers with a red face-. And I didn’t kill Mr. Hargreeves.

-Wait, one of us?- Alisson glares at him.

-How could you think that?- Vanya is offended. 

-Great job, Luther. Way to lead- Diego mocks him before leaving the room.

-That’s not what I’m saying...

-You’re crazy, man. You’re crazy- Klaus stands up and takes (Y/N) hand and the bottle-. Crazy.

-I’ve not finished.

-Okay, sorry, We’re just gonna go murder Mom. We’ll be right back.

-That’s not what I was saying- Luther tries to apologize- I didn’t...

But Vanya, Klaus, and (Y/N) leave the room, leaving him alone with Alisson.

[idontknowwhatsarcasmis]

The Lost Moments

HEllooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!! Like An Epilogue!.... Sort of...

These are the lost moments on “Away From Home” people! Enjoy =D

Ao3

Ff.net

Xxxxxx

Maria looked intensely at the screen in front of her. Sand as far as her eyes could see.

Sigh. Again.

“Will you stop that?” said an annoyed voice at her side, exasperated, and she had to stop herself from laughing.

“You made me leave my bed, the nice pleasant weather from my quarters, to this… you can take my sighs.” She looked at him, his one apparent eyebrow raised. “What?”

“What happened to ‘sir’?”

“You took me from my kids, you don’t deserve a ‘sir’… Nick.”

His eyebrow rose higher, her deadpan expression mirrored on his face.

“You’re also taking me away from my wife for longer than I care to be, be glad she let us both walk out of that room, Nick-y.” She winked at the nickname, allowing the huge grin to spread on her face at both his outraged expression and the thought of her wife.

Her wife. Alive. Back waiting for her with their kids.

*Buzz Buzz*

Her phone beeping made her glance and check the new picture that the woman in question had just sent her. In the photo, the three most important people in her life were staring at her, pouts on all of their faces with a caption of “miss you already” and a sad emoji under it.

They had all become such saps after being reunited.

Not that she was complaining. Her smile grew bigger, and she was thankful no agents were around to see it – her reputation could not last that.

“Oh, for god’s sake, tell them to stop that. It’s not like we’re at any risk, and this won’t even take that long, okay?” He rolled his eye as she showed him the picture. It was her turn to raise an eyebrow.

He looked back at her. At the picture. At her.

She waited.

“Fine, take a selfie and say we miss them too.” His voice was grumpy, and Maria laughed.

Giant saps, all of them.

“Shut up!”

“Yes, sir.” She said, snapping the picture at the exact time that allowed her to capture a very small smile at the corner of his lips, sending it to her family with a “we’ll see you soon”. As she turned it off and looked at the fast approaching city, she allowed herself to smile, closing her eyes.

Her family. Her wife and two kids were here.

Natasha…

xxxx-xxxx

As she walked into the ‘meeting room’ a few days later, she was already shaking her head, brow furrowed and back tense. With the click of the door she turned around, staring straight into Nick’s eye, all her years of experience and command into that single look.

“You will not call her. Natasha will take no part in this.”

He just looked at her, and Maria felt a tension in the room that she hadn’t felt between them since she’d joined SHIELD and had just led the first mission with Fury as her handler, but this was non-negotiable. Her wife would not take any part in this. She had retired, after everything that she’d been through - the red room, living 5 years without half her family, dying - no, Natasha would have no part of this.

“You’re gonna lie to her?” Was the only thing he asked, face just as blank as hers.

“No.” Was her immediate answer “But I refuse to leave the kids alone. She is not going in.”

He nodded.

“I wasn’t gonna send her in, Hill.” He said after a while, in a low voice. She remained tense. She loved Nick, she really did. He was more of a father to both him and Natasha than anyone ever was. And quite the grandfather to the kids (something of which he was very proud of thinking no one knew he was proud of), but she loved her family even more. She would not place her wife in the line of fire ever again. Heck, she was apprehensive from putting herself in such state for what it might do to Natasha.

“I wasn’t. I promise. Not unless it was a last resort.” He said, hands up in a placating gesture, looking pointedly at her hands.

She realized she’d turned them into tight fits and immediately opened them, forcing her shoulders to easy a bit.

“And just ‘cause she wouldn’t stay still if it came to that, and you know it.” He continued.

She forced herself to take a deep breath. Closing her eyes, willing those horrible images and the feeling of losing her to go away.

“I know… Sorry, Nick, I-“

“It’s fine Maria.” He walked closer, placing one hand on her shoulder. He’d been there. On the ship, the day she found out Natasha had died. He’d been there the following days until Cap had come back, giving her the greatest gift of all.

Xxxx Flashback xxxx

“Hey, Cap! All done with fixing the time-line?… oh… fuck…” Clint’s voice broke and it made Maria frown. What could have possibly made him curse in front of his kids and Cap?

“Careful, Clint. The Capt doesn’t like this kind of talk.” She said, teasing him weakly, without turning around.

No answer.

“Clint?”

She asked, finally moving to see what had made him so shocked. There he was, standing frozen, hunched over the table as if that was the only thing holding him standing. Her frown intensified as she followed his gaze, trying to determine what he was seeing that it made him react so violently.

And then her eyes found it.

Found her.

And her mind went numb.

She couldn’t breathe.

Tears were already gathering in her eyes before she could even fully comprehend what she was seeing.

Red hair.

Pale skin.

Green eyes.

The greenest eyes she had ever seen, alight with life, wet with unshed tears, just as hers were.

Maria couldn’t breathe; her legs felt like lead, but it didn’t matter. She had no idea what was that made her move, but she did. Faster than she ever had before, she was running. And so was her wife… so was

“Natasha.” She managed to breathe out once. Twice, three times, like a mantra, before she was close enough. It was going to hurt, but she didn’t care.

“Masha!” Her wife shouted as she finally, finally got within arms range and Maria, scared shitless it might be a hallucination, hugged her around the waist, tightly.

Solid.

Real.

And if nothing else had, the fast beating heart she could feel pounding close to hers, was the uncontestable proof of her being very much alive.

Alive.

She had no idea who started shaking and crying first; she just knew that Natasha’s hands were around her neck and shoulders, tightly gripping her hair, her legs wrapped around her waist as Maria’s own arms hugged the smaller woman’s waist, hands sprawled across her back, touching as much of her as she could.

“Nat. Natasha” She breathed out as sobs took over her. “You, what; how-” but her wife didn’t let her finish. Amidst tears, sobs, and more shaking than Maria ever remembered feeling, Natasha’s lips found hers. It was nothing like any kiss they had ever shared before. It was pure desperation. It was messier than she could ever remember it being. It was Natasha again in her arms.

It was perfect.

It was home.

xxxx-xxxx

She shook her head, looking at Nick again.

“Who then? Or is it just… you know… or are we…?” She asked as he moved around, opening a computer.

“Natasha would kill me if I let you anywhere too close to the fight.” He rolled his eye at that. “And I don’t think for a second that living at home has made her any less deadly or fit and I like being alive again too much to risk it.” He shook his head, and Maria allowed herself to smile.

“It really hasn’t.”

He stared at her for a moment. Her smile became a smirk.

“Oh, spare me.”

She laughed, finally fully relaxing.

“Who then?”

He turned the laptop towards her.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Xxxx

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Maria just shook her head as she looked at her wife’s face.

“Parker?”

She nodded.

“He’s like, 16!”

“Yep.”

“No other choice?”

Maria looked away at that.

“Masha…”

“No.” Maria looked back at the shorter woman: her green eyes were focused, shoulders straight - Agent Natasha Hill was looking at her. “Parker is not alone, Natasha.”

“He’s not experienced. The kid’s suffered enough.”

Her hands closed into a fist. She couldn’t even exactly disagree with Natasha; she had just made the exact same points to Nick.

“I know.”

“He’s almost Nicky’s age.”

“I know, Nat.”

Silence.

“He’s not gonna be alone. And it is his choice, in the end.”

“Maria, please tell me you’re not gonna-“

She was already shaking her head, a small smile playing on her lips.

“I’ll be accompanying the situation, mostly. He said he was quite sure that you hadn’t lost your edge, and he wasn’t willing to risk it.”

Natasha laughed at that, a smug smirk on her lips, and she got more comfortable in her seat.

“Good.”

They shared another moment in silence. Their kids were asleep on their beds, on the opposite side of the room, having exhausted themselves after a whole day of running around and playing about. Running… Playing… Nicky was almost Parker’s age.

“There’s this new guy. He’s gonna lead the mission on the field. Parker will be a backup sort of thing.”

Natasha nodded, frowning a bit.

“New guy? Is he trustworthy?”

Maria shrugged.

“Too soon to tell, I suppose, but he has been helping.”

“Good.” She looked at their kids for a moment, before facing her again. “Parker’s gotta come out of this alive, or Fury will find out exactly how I have not been sitting idly by.”

Maria smirked.

“Don’t worry, babe. He knows.”

Xxxx

“Nick…” Maria sighed as they watched Peter walk away, but he was already opening new tabs on his laptop, most likely booking a ridiculously expensive hotel that would change the whole vacation trip the poor kid was expecting.

“We need him, Maria.”

She shook her head, but didn’t speak up. She watched as he moved things around, twisting words and people to make sure everything would go down smoothly. Her heart warmed at the fact that not once did Nick asked her to help, knowing she did not agree with it. Once he was finished, they both gave out the orders needed to put it in motion, until all that was left was a closed laptop between them.

He got up and walked towards her, stopping right in front of Maria, looking her right into her eyes.

“I don’t want to ruin his life, Maria. But Tony saw something in him.” He paused for a moment before continuing, “I see something in him.”

Maria nodded slightly. She did too. That kid had the heart in the right place and the drive and powers to do something with it.

“I do too, Nick.” Hell, she helped train and prepare some of the new agents quite a few times; she knew how to recognize talent. “He’s… Nicky’s almost his age, Nick. I-We can’t…”

“He won’t be alone Maria. I promise you that. But he has a gift, and he wants to use it.”

“He doesn’t, right now. It should be his decision to take.”

“We don’t have that kind of time. He needs a push.”

They stayed in silence for a while before Maria sighed. She was definitely no stranger to hard decisions.

“Tell me at least you got them a nice place?”

He smiled before starting to walk away.

“What do you take me for, Hill?”

“You don’t want me to answer that.” He barely reacted at that, though she knew he was rolling his eye.

She paused.

“Did… ‘we’ get a nice place?”

…

“Nick!”

His laughter echoed down the damn walls.

Xxxx

“He walked away.” She said, after a while.

Natasha sighed.

“Are you okay?”

“I wasn’t the one running around Italy fighting for my life…” Maria said, knowing she sounded quite bitter about the fact.

Natasha was silent for a while before asking in a quiet voice.

“Did you want to be?”

Maria looked away towards the window, not knowing if she wanted to answer. Not knowing if she knew how to answer.

“I… don’t know, Nat…” She whispered after a while. Shaking her head, she continued, “I really don’t know. Part of me wanted to. I always loved being in the action, having control. I hate the fact that Nick all but forbade me from taking part in it even though I knew I could help. I hated the thought of leaving it up to Parker alone. But…”

She stopped herself.

“But?” Natasha prompted.

“But… I hate the thought of risking losing all of you more.”

“Masha…”

Maria took a deep breath, looking away from Natasha as she felt tears welling up in her eyes.

“I can’t leave them, Nat. I can’t make them, I can’t make you go through this again.”

They were silent. For a long time.

A tear ran down her cheek.

“Masha…”

She closed her eyes.

“Masha, look at me.”

Taking a deep breath, Maria turned to look at her wife once more. Green eyes bright with unshed tears too.

“I don’t want you to take part in these things. I don’t. The thought that I might lose you again is… I can’t bear it. Can’t. Doesn’t even enter my mind.” She shuddered, one tear falling down her cheek. “But, and this is very important, Masha, if you feel it’s necessary. If you feel like you can, and have to, help Parker… then do it. It’s whom I fell in love with, Masha. The hardass, awesome, best agent there was, Commander Hill. You’re an amazing professional, Masha. You are good at what you do. And barring a mythical accident, I know, I know you’ll always come back to me. To us. To our family.”

Tears were flowing freely down her cheeks now.

“I love you.”

Natasha smiled.

“I love you too.”

“Thank you…”

Natasha laughed a bit as she playfully shoved her wife away.

“Always, my love. Come back soon?”

“Is that an order?”

The words came out of her mouth without any thought, but as soon as she said them, she smiled, mirroring the expression that on Natasha’s face.

“It is, Commander Hill.”

“Aye, aye, Agent Hill.”

Xxxx

Maria had just finished the check-up around the ship that would take her to Earth and into the latest bat-shit crazy situation an Avenger had somehow managed to get himself into, when Fury’s voice sounded on the speakers.

“Commander Hill, stand down.”

She sighed.

“We’ve talked about this Nick, I’m going to help Parker.”

“There’s no need.”

Maria froze.

“What?” She hissed, and didn’t calm at all when Nick laughed.

“The boy came through, Maria. He did it.”

A breath Maria did not know she was holding came out in one go. Suddenly, she was almost gasping.

“God damn it, Nick!” She said, quickly climbing out of the ship and seeing the smug-ass face of her ‘boss’ down the ramp.

“Lead with that next time, you bastard. What do you mean, ‘did it’?” She asked, storming towards him.

“Do I command no respect around here anymore?” He asked, indignant.

She raised an eyebrow.

“Anyway, he did it. Discovered the real culprit was, uh, whatshisface, thought we had turned our backs on him, came through at the end, won the battle and the girl, yada, yada, very much like Stark.”

It had been a very long time since Maria had been this lost.

“I... He… Real…Girl?”

Yeah, okay, so she wasn’t being the most coherent ever, but that was no reason for Fury to outright laugh at her. For heaven’s sake, she’d just had had a very tough conversation with her wife about going to Earth to save Peter and he… he’d done it. He saved Earth.

Maria smiled.

“Okay, your smile is starting to creep me out now, so just go back to your wife. In the 30 minutes you took to pack your bags she already came to my office twice, threatening me to quite a few things I dare not repeat in polite company. You daughter also came by once… Let me tell you, I dunno whom I most fear retaliation from. Nicky is ridiculously like you.”

She laughed at his sarcastic tone (not that she doubted that Natasha had really been to see Nick those two times and she had been told that Nicky had taken quite a few of her commanding habits for some reason – something she was really proud of) but became slightly more serious as he looked back at her. His one eye soft and focused on her.

“Still… I’m proud of you, Hill. Despite what ended up happening, well… It’s just another proof I chose my deputy right.”

Maybe she was getting old. There was no other explanation for the chocked up feeling she was experiencing right then.

Just as Fury was about to leave the hangar, she found her voice again.

“You going soft on me, sir?”

He stopped.

“I probably just had too many martinis.” He quipped without turning back, and Maria smiled fondly at him.

“And lose the ‘sir’, Maria. We’re on vacation.” He said over his shoulder, the hint of a smile in what she could see of his lips.

“Sure, Nick.” She answered quietly, turning around to get her things back.

“And go pull your redhead off me! She really hasn’t taken it easy…”

Maria chuckled; she had no doubt of that.

She looked at the doors and then back at the plane, a smile coming up her lips. Maybe a bit of fun with her family would be good. As her wife and kids often told her: she was a hopeless nerd.

Xxxx

“Momma! Are you coming home?”

Maria laughed.

“Hello to you too, K!”

She knew their son had learn how to look sheepish by looking at Natasha. Sometimes it seemed impossible that those two were not related, just as she knew how much Nicky looked like her sometimes. Though she wouldn’t admit, Maria treasured that more than anything; that her daughter would feel so attached to her, feel so connected, that she’d still kept those habits even though they had a 5-year long gap in their relationship. Sometimes, she’d just look at her while Nicky was focusing on something or being a bit bossy with K, and she just saw herself in there. Natasha always came up to her on those moments, hugging her tight and thanking her for… everything. As if she was the one who needed to be thanked for anything.

“Hi, momma!” He said, finally.

“Hello, mum!” Nicky was right behind her brother, a smile big on her face.

“Hello, guys.”

“So… Are you coming home?” His son asked, smiling despite trying very hard to look like he wasn’t.

Maria chuckled.

“I just left, K. How can I already be coming home?”

“But I miss you already!” He son shouted, and even her daughter seemed like she was about to do the same. Maria had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.

“We do indeed.” Natasha’s voice came up from somewhere in the room before her face showed up on screen. “A few days should be enough? A few hours?” She asked, and Maria could see the longing, but also pride shining in her eyes.

“Yep.”

“Precision, Masha…”

“Nat, I need to assess the situation.”

“Commander!”

Sigh.

What does a mother and a wife have to do to play a prank on her family, nowadays?

“Give me 3 days. Tops.”

“And you’ll be here?” K asked.

“Or on your way?” Nicky completed, and Maria stopped. Looking from one face to the other.

“What is this, am I reporting for duty?” She laughed.

“Yep!” The three said in unison.

“You need to be here in three days, soldier!” Nicky said in a mocking stern voice that really did sound like hers.

“No leeway” K quipped, and Maria was impressed he knew that word… probably Coulson.

She looked at Natasha.

“You heard the directors, Commander Hill. Three days tops.”

God, she loved her family.

Shaking her head, she said the only thing she could say.

“Aye, aye.”

Xxxx

As she closed the messaging system and made sure the whole ship was powered down, she started to make her way towards the section of the ship she was sharing with the kids during this impromptu vacation Nick had taken them on. When he’d first mentioned it to her, it had been crazy. As much as she had wanted to spend uninterrupted time with her family, she dared not to leave Earth unattended (especially now that they’d lost Tony, and that Thor had gone God knows where). But three sets of pouty lips, and three pairs of arms hugging her ridiculously tight made her resolve crumble faster than a house of cards.

She had barely paid any attention to Nick’s plan to take care of Earth – which had obviously been a mistake. Those two shape-shifter were laughable and ridiculous! How could they not see Mysterio for the farce he was! Granted, she and Nick hadn’t either, but they were thousands of miles away from the actual person! All they had to go on was some videos and reports!

She shook her head; those two buffoons were problems for another day. She could always drag up the old disciplinary training she imposed on badly behaving recruits. That should be fun.

She sighed.

Thank god for Peter Parker.

She sighed again, closing her eyes. They had two of the great heroes of the war against Thanos right here. Right here, doing… doing nothing. Maybe she was right; they were being selfish.

As she walked down the end of the corridor leading to their quarters, she paused by the door. She could hear, even through thick metal, raised, excited voices. They were likely playing with something.

Adjusting the strap of her duffle on her shoulder, she opened the door, and could now actually hear what they were saying.

“Momma’s favourite is chocolate, isn’t it?”

“Yep, little one! She’ll come back soon, so we need to get this done!”

“Yeah, K! Come on, let me help you.”

Maria smiled as she let those voices fill her whole. It was so heartwarming to hear how kind Nicky had been to her brother since they’d come back. And to herself as well. She was much more affectionate with all of them, with Natasha as well. Maria had theories about placating guilt and all, but it didn’t matter. They were all alive and together.

And maybe they were being selfish, yeah. But she would not risk this. She would not risk them unless absolutely necessary. They had done their part, both of them. It was time for them to enjoy it – to enjoy everything they fought for.

The grin came to her face easily as she took a few steps forward, bracing herself for the dramatic shouts of her fooling them and ‘what happened to earth’ and ‘that was fast’, and just because she couldn’t resist, nerd that she was, she said in a unnecessarily loud voice, watching all three of them jump:

“Honey, I’m home!”

XXXX

I AM ALIVE PEOPLE!!

I’m SO sorry for how long this took! I swear I wanted to have this posted last year, BUT just when I had finished writing it ALL a cousin pointed out that I had NOT seen both of the post credits scenes… So after being shocked for like three weeks I had to REWRITE a bunch of parts! …Almost all really… But I DID have some scenes I loved aaaand I did want to somehow follow the film’s plot SO! If it got confused:

Nick, Maria, Nat, K and Nicky are ALL in the ship having a loooong well deserved vacation together! Nick and Maria gather around a nice computer set up to check out what’s going on with their ‘copies’ on Earth and give some orders and advice, but not all the time (they are on vacation after all). So every single scene it’s them on the ship, watching the mess their counterparts are making, kay? =D So sorry if it was confusing, buuut I kinda liked writing this bit and hope you like reading it too!

Also, thank you SO very much for ALL the reviews and kind words… you have no idea how much it’s helped me… Work and life has been crazy, but I’m back to writing now, feel like I’m myself again and you guys definitely helped so thanks! =D

I’ll try to answer individually later, but until then:

Thank you veeeeeeeeeeeeeery much aaaand see you soon! ^^

[simplysparrow14]

You’ll know when the time is right --> Dark Crystal

The clip in Rians hair is a baby Arathim leg, kept as a prize after his first kill. 

I hope you all like it!!

@kristinainplaid @Amethystgelfling @Jenskira @fandomsonmysleeve @solieetlunami 

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

“Rian--Rian wake up,” 

Blinking open his cobalt eyes, Rian turned slowly in his small cot, his blanket rumpling around himself. Around him, his home was cold and unforgiving, the harth just a dying bundle of embers. Sleeping in the corner, the family Fizzgig Tashi, was snoozing soundly. Rians cot was small, placed in a small crevice near his parents’. From his spot, he could see his mothers body, her chest rising and falling gently. Taking in a breath, Rian rubbed his eyes as he fought off sleep. “Father,” He mumbled in greeting. 

“Get dressed.  We’re leaving soon,” He father whispered bluntly.  Kneeling over him, His father, Ordon, barely cracked a smile as his son woke from his deep slumber.  

“Now?” he asked.

“Yes. Now.” Without another word, Ordon lifted himself from the floor, and walked swiftly around the room, his footsteps quiet against the hard dirt floor. 

Throwing off his covers, Rian hurriedly put on his tunic and pants, before quickly tying the hair near his ears up into a braid-pony tail. As he laced his boots up, Rian watched as Ordon work quietly to prepare their ruck-sacks, packing away fresh nebrie cheese and Spriton wheat bread, as well as two canteens with water. 

Rian stayed quiet as he watched his father. It always fascinated him that The Great Ordon, the Spitter-Slayer of Stone-in-the-wood, was his father. Most of the elders within the village had told him he looked too much like him.  From the lithe, arrow-thin ears, to the deep cobalt shine of his sepia-colored hair, Rian was the spitting image of his father. But looks, as Rian had come to know, could only get you so far in Stone-in-the-wood. They had never called Ordon “Great” for nothing. Rian hopped to one day be named, “The Great Rian” as well. 

Tying off his boots, Rian hopped up from his cot, pulling his small traveling cloak from a small peg near the hearth. 

“Excuse me, little one, I think your forgetting something,” A small, pleasant voice hit his ears. Spinning around, Rian ears perked up with giddiness. His mother, Shoni, was partially sitting up in bed, her long hair rumpled from sleep. With a finger, she motioned for Rian to come near her. 

Obeying his mother, Rian rushed to her side, jumping onto the bed to hug her. Shoni showerd him with kisses, running her hands through his hair. After a few kisses, Rian struggled to break from his mothers grip. “Moooom,” He whined. “Your messing up my warrior hair,” 

Dropping her son from her grip, Shoni fell back against her pillow, laughter ripping though her throat. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she teased. “ I didn't realize my little guard cared so much for his hair now. I used to remember fondly when you didnt care.”

Rian fell quiet. It was true that, at first, he didn't care for his hair. He never thought of caring for it like the other gelfling around him. But as he grew older, he had realized his mistake. He had gained so much of it from Shoni’s line of the family, and thanks to how fast it grew, Rian had been forced to tie it back several times to keep the sword from nicking it during his training. It was also the fact that several of the girls around Stone-in-the-wood had marveled the deep cobalt shine, and Rian had wanted to keep it shiny just for them. 

Ordon walked up to his wife and son, his traveling cloak already hung around his shoulders. His voice was stern. “We’ll be leaving now. Take care while we’re gone.”

Shoni chuckles  as she looked up at her husband. “As always,” She says. “But at least don’t leave me without a proper goobye.”

Sighing, Ordon leaned down and kissed Shoni. It was long and sweet, as the two breathed each other in. Rian felt his ears and cheeks flush as he watched his parents kiss. Finally the two let go of each other. Ordon placed his forehead to Shoni’s before walking away. Motioning for Rian to put on his cloak, the two walked into the cool morning. 

“Be careful!  Watch for dangers. Dont come back with a dead childling.” Shoni called, watching her son and husband walk out the door. Ordon simply waved his hand he and Rian walked over the small hill that ringed his home.

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

“Try again.” Ordon ordered, his tone harsh and unforgiving. He held up his sword tightly, bright and glittering in his hand.He twirled with a flourish, the blade singing as it sliced the air around him. “Balance your weight on your feet, and keep your line of sight straight at me. Your opponents will come at you with everything they have, and they will not go easy on you.”

“I know.”

“Then show me, Rian--Don’t tell me.”

Taking a deep breath, Rian held his practice sword tight in his hand. The wood was rotten and grimy, staining his hand. Planting his feet, he took a deep breath and took a swipe. Ordon was ready. With a flick of his wrist, he batted away his sons play-sword, the metal chipping at the wood with ease. Rian stumbled a little, but quickly gained his footing. However, Ordon was faster then Rian was expecting, and quickly took several swipes. The blade sang as as the tip nicked Rian’s skin near his arm. 

“Father--” Rian cried, but was silenced as his father took another swipe. 

“Our opponents wont stop once you are injured. They do not care if you cry.” 

Side-stepping his son, Ordon pivoted his leg and swept Rian off his feet. A cloud of dust billowed up from Rian as he hit the ground, his eyes wide as Ordon lowed the sword to his neck. 

“You need improvement.” Ordon observed, twirling the blade. Rian lifted himself up, sitting on the ground, his chest rising and falling rapidly. 

Laying the blade flat against a tree, Ordon picked up a canteen, walking over a hill. “There’s a spring nearby. Take a break.”

Rian nodded his head as he wiped his bangs from his eyes

But as the old solider filled their small canteen, a scream ripped through the forest, followed by the screech  of metal leaving a leather scabbard. 

“Rian!” Ordon screamed, dropping the canteen on the ground. 

Ordon raced back to the training grounds, bursting through the tree-line to find Rian standing near a large tree, feet planted firmly into the ground, his tiny chest heaving up and down as he struggled to control his breathing.

“Rian!” Ordon screamed as he raced to his son side. Sliding to the ground, Ordon placed his hands on his sons trembling shoulders. “Rian. Whats wrong?! Speak, boy!”

“I-it was c-crawling on the tree... It hissed at m-me...” Rian stammered. 

 Ordon followed Rian’s line of vision. Stabbed within the tree, the sword vibrated with Rians tremors, the silver blade shining bright. Splayed from the tip, Ordon saw the limp and lifeless body of the baby arathim, its long pink-and-hollow legs bright in the sunlight. 

Confusion swam through his mind. “Did... did it try to bite you?” He asked. 

Rian shook his head frantically. “No,” He said, his voice growing tight and high-pitched as he tried desperately to hold back his tears. “But--but--” 

“Its alright,” Ordon interrupted.  He placed a gentle hand on Rians wrist. With a gentle pull, Ordon helped Rian pull free his sword. “You did what you had to do...” The sword dropped with a clatter. Rian loward his shaking hands. 

“There,” Ordon said, rising to his feet before dusting himself off. 

 Rian threw himself into Ordon, tears streaming down his face. The little child let out held-back sobs, his shoulders shaking violently. 

Ordon wasn't the consoling type. He had never had to calm someone before, as guards were expected to keep their emotions in check. But, as Ordon felt Rian bury his face into his torso, Ordon felt a wave of guilt. Guilt for leaving his son alone in the clearing. Guilt for having not killed the arathim. He had drove them out, of course. Gelfling were not meant to fully kill but that dident mean that he had succeded in keeping his race, his family, safe. 

Sighing, Ordon  leaned down and picked up Rian. The childling quickly latched onto him, burying his sobs into Rians shoulder. Patting Rians back, Ordon used his boot to kick up the sword into his hand, sheathing the weapon. After that, Ordon pulled the arathims body from the tree. The thing was dead for sure, its body nearly split in half thanks to Rians quick thinking with the blade. Ordon holds it tightly. 

Turning from the tree, Ordon makes his way over the fresh spring, a crying Rian in his arms and a dead arathim in his hand. 

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

Rian had taken a long time to calm down. Sobs had wracked his body constanly, and Ordon felt inadequate on how to handle it. After a couple of hours, Rian had cried all he could. All he could really do was hold the childling close, patting his back steadily as he walked back and forth in the small clearing , whispering soothing words as best he could.  Hiccups spewed from his  small body. His sky-blue eyes were red with tears. 

“Rian,” Ordon said, after the hiccuping had died down. “Are you okay?”

The boy said nothing. All he did was nod his head. 

Moving slowly, Ordon placed the childling near the water. Careful of the boots, He let Rian dip his small feet in the water. 

Sitting behind him, Ordon took the Arathims body from his hand. It was just a baby, not even old enough to form any fangs or the spit-glands. 

“You killed it,” Ordon stated flatly, turning the creature over in his hand. 

“I didnt mean to!” Rian wailed. He hugged himself a little tighter, draw forth his shoulders. “It hissed at me..”

Ordon thought for a moment. Rian had never seen a Arathim before, let alone fought one. He was born shortly after the war, when most of the aratheim were driven out or killed. The childling had known where to strike to kill one, right near its heart int he thorax. Ordon wracked his brain until it finally dawned on him. 

Childlings could dreamfast. 

Ordon had heard stories of childlings, unams before they were born, dreamfasting with their parents, sharing memories from  the mother or the father. Ordon thought back to those nights alone with Shoni, just the two of them together after a night of love and kisses and whispers. Shoni had never told him that they were with child then, and it never even crossed his mind that a spark of life that small could have gained the knowledge to kill something that had existed long before it was born. 

Orodn felt his heart sink. Rian had gained a memory from him, and it was a memory of death and killings. 

Ordon wanted to remedy that, at least for the time being. 

Moving silently, Ordon took one of the arathims legs and broke them off, careful of the spikes that protruded from them. Placing one on the ground, Ordon sat closer to his son, gathering up most of his thick cobalt and sepia hair. 

“Father?” Rian asked, turning his head. 

Ordon righted it. “Keep looking forward.”

Taking several strands of hair, he began to wive the leg in. “Rian,” Ordon began. “Do you remember what the guards oath?”

Rian was quiet for a moment, his ears falling back as he struggled to remember, even though ordon had drilled it into his brain since he was small.  “We protect the lords... The Lords protect the Crystal of Truth. If we fail... we all fail...?”

“Good. But there’s another oath you have to remember,” Pulling a lock of hair through a loop, Ordon continued to braid his sons hair. “Remember, Rian.  A Stonewood wields the sword and spear with honor. You wield it to protect Stone-in-the-wood; To protect the forest. To protect the lords. To protect Thra. And, maybe one day when your older, to protect the one you love the most, whoever that may be.”

Rian pondered on the sentence, his ears twitching. 

“How will I know I love someone?” Rian asked quietly, a pale blush rising to his cheeks as he sat there, wincing a little as he father tugged a little too tightly against his hair. 

Ordon took a moment to ponder, wondering himself how he had known when he truly loved Shoni. Finally he smiled. Moving slowly, Ordon took Rians wrist again. Opening up his palm, Ordon placed Rians hand again his sons chest, pressing it close until Rian felt his own heartbeat. “Its hard to say exactly when it’ll happen to you, Rian. But just remember, my son, this single part of you never lies.”

“Never lies.” Rian mirrored, pressing his hand closer. 

Ordon couldn't help but feel his heart swell with pride a little. It was as if nine unam ago, the boy sitting in front of him had been a speck inside Shoshone's belly. Ordon had never thought much of being a father. He himself had never been a good son to his own father, with arguments and fights daily. When he married Shoni and took up her childhood home as his, they argued whether they had wanted children.  The arguments had always ended with a stalemate, a problem to be shelved for another day. At least, until he had felt Shoni’s firm belly one pleasant night together alone. It wasn't long until the speak had turned bigger, and soon it was wailing its lungs out for food. And then it was running. and laughing. And giving him grey hairs as Rian became something more to him then just a simple after-thought. 

Ordon ruffled Rians hair as he finished weaving the leg into the thick locks. Rian fingerd it a little, grimacing as he felt the arathims spikes. “Its messing up my warrior hair,” He mumbled.

Ordon gave a chuckle as he watched his son, a spark of pride growing him his chest. “Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it.”

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

Rian awoke from the dream, blinking away sleep from his eyes. He looked around. The Desert was still dark, the fire having died to burning embers, smoke curling into the air. Rian lifted himself onto his elbows, surveying the area. Gurjin, Naia and Kylan were sound asleep, with snores from all around dancing in the air. Brea was as well, her chest rising and falling softly. Rians eyes fell on Deet and Hup. 

The Podling was sound asleep, his spoon clutched tightly to his chest. He was snoring softly, his mouth open a little. Deet had her back turned to him, her wings laying flat aginst the earth. However, as Rian watched her, she turned over, throwing a hand over Hup. The podling snorted as he turned and curled himself closer to Deep, her eyelids dancing as she dreamed. 

Rian felt his heart swell at the sight, of the Grotton who had saved his life from the gobbles. Though they had only met an anum ago, the connection between them had started to grow stronger. This night was no acceptation, as the two had caught eyes with each other over the fire.  He lifted a hand to his chest, felt the rapid beating beneath his skin. 

“Never lies,” he whispered to himself as he left the arathim clip brush his scalp in the hot desert wind. 

[sinceileftyoublog]

Jeff Tweedy’s Healing Power

BY JORDAN MAINZER

Normally, on Rosh Hashanah, I’d be visiting my 101-year-old grandmother at her retirement home. That obviously wasn’t going to happen this year, so I was happy to see that Jeff Tweedy was ringing in the new year with a drive-in show at the McHenry Outdoor Theater. My parents, girlfriend, and I got takeout from a nearby Hungarian joint (food my grandmother used to make, like chicken paprikash and goulash) and parked my mom’s van at our designated spot. This wasn’t your average drive-in show, though--something a year ago that would be really weird to say--with better-than-they-have-every-right-to-be cover bands in a baseball stadium lot. This was Music, the lead singer of Wilco, playing to people desperate to hear any sort of live performance, yes, but who also paid top dollar to see specifically Tweedy.

About an hour or so before the show was set to begin, probably every person in the parking lot got the breaking news notification on their phone that Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg--to many, the last thread preventing whatever semblance of democracy we ever had from unraveling--had died. You wondered whether Tweedy (about as politically outspoken as any Gen X indie rocker living in a blue city) and his band had heard the news, and whether they would bring it up. Finally walking out at 8 PM, they started with late singer-songwriter Debbie Friedman’s version of "Mi Shebeirach", the Jewish prayer for healing. COVID-19, Rosh Hashanah, RBG: This was appropriate for a number of reasons, though Tweedy and his sons had performed it a couple times during their early pandemic nightly Instagram concerts from home. ("According to Jewish tradition, a person who dies on Rosh Hashanah, which began tonight, is a tzaddik, a person of great righteousness," book critic Ruth Franklin would write in a widely circulated Tweet.) Perhaps most fitting, though, is that many of Tweedy’s songs played that night were, in a way, empathetic prayers for healing.

To me, Tweedy used to be somewhat of a Midwestern folk hero. In Nick Offerman’s book Gumption, what is essentially a tribute to friends and heroes of his who exude the qualities the title word connotes, the chapter dedicated to Tweedy focuses on his and Offerman’s commitments to the arts as an escape from their conservative upbringing and culminates in the story of how Wilco’s 2002 masterpiece Yankee Hotel Foxtrot came to be released. (Wilco was dropped by Warner Records after refusing to creatively concede, streamed the album for free on its website, and released it the next year on Nonesuch Records.) On his recent solo material--particularly 2014′s Sukierae, released under the name Tweedy, 2018′s WARM, and 2019′s WARMER--Tweedy’s shown a looser, gentler side. George Saunders’ impeccable liner notes for WARM called Tweedy “our great, wry, American consolation poet;” such a label seems to be coming to its apex on what will be now Tweedy’s third solo album in three years, the earnestly titled Love Is The King. As always, though, he’s unsure: “or I certainly hope so,” he said after revealing the title to the audience last Friday.

This expression of “love” varies from the biographically personal to the humanistic throughout Tweedy’s catalog. Sukierae was conceived as a way to positively process the cancer diagnosis of his wife Susie Miller Tweedy (she’s since recovered), and he played many of the album’s more devotional songs last Friday, from “New Moon” to “Summer Noon” to “Low Key” (“a minor smash hit...in my imagination,” he joked about the last). Indeed, the night was a family affair. Jeff was joined by his sons Sammy and Spencer on backing vocals and drums, respectively, and he offered familial anecdotes between many of the performed songs. He joked how his wife’s not a huge fan of WARMER’s “Guaranteed”, as the original lyrics were more complementary to her (“You’re a work of art” versus the eventual “You’re no walk in the park”), though the trials and tribulations of making a great love work is a more realistic depiction of faith than the idolatry of the former line. Contrast it with Wilco’s 1999 album Summerteeth, where Tweedy sang about his relationship in a much rockier sense. The upcoming reissue of the album, which contains a remaster of the original, demos, and a full concert from months after it was released, reveals a more on-edge version of Tweedy, rejecting the idea of playing certain songs live, half-jokingly uncomfortable at the band’s positive reception. Over the last few years, including Friday, he was more honest, more humorous, more at ease.

I posit that these few years of explicit musical familial introspection have improved Tweedy’s ability as a consolation poet at large, though not to be ignored is his now decade-long foray into collaboration with the great Mavis Staples. (Spencer played drums on Don’t Lose This, a 2015 posthumous release from Pops Staples.) During the show’s encore, which began with six straight covers, Sammy, Spencer, Jeff, and OHMME’s Sima Cunningham took turns singing “Friendship” from Don’t Lose This; later on, they’d perform the title track to Mavis’ Tweedy-penned You Are Not Alone. “You are not alone:” It’s another key to Tweedy, the songwriter and performer. Saunders writes, “Jeff told me once that what he’s trying to communicate to his listener is, ‘You’re O.K. You’re not alone. I’m singing to you, but I also hear you.’” He is aware.

Tweedy ended the show by talking a little bit about how and when Love Is The King was written, during quarantine, and though he maybe would have otherwise ended the show with the band’s dazzling version of Billy Bragg & Wilco’s “California Stars” (with masterful electric guitarwork from James Elkington), it felt better to end it with “Save It For Me”, coincidentally written the day George Floyd was murdered. Choking up, Tweedy said to the crowd, who were elated in the moment but in general likely reeling from any one or many of the health and spiritual crises ravaging the nation, some words of encouragement. “You’ll make it through.” But it’s something he said earlier in the show--I don’t exactly remember when--that stuck with me more. “I hope we live to see a better world,” he said, a simple and non-controversial enough statement that’s nonetheless radical in its fearlessness. I, too, hope we live to see a better world. I, too, hope love is the king.

[foxtophat]

/pant wheeze etc

sorry about that guys, i was going to post last night but like i keep saying, i got caught up in editing and soooo here we are!!  today’s chapter is all about kim, and kim’s teaching a masterclass in being a mom friend in your late 30′s.

as much as i strugged with this chapter i really REALLY like writing kim. she never got enough play in the games, so i guess i take liberties, but there’s something pleasing about writing an exasperated millenial mom going “please, dude, just get some therapy” to a guy like john seed lol.

i guess we’re all probably feeling kind of...uh, not awesome/active these days. which is fine! i’ve touched my face so many times writing this that i’m gonna have to go take a shower when i’m done here.  i hope you all are being safe, and i hope you work for companies that will allow you to be safe!  if your job is giving you shit about the virus, know that they’re the ones in the wrong, not you for wanting to watch out for your health.  oh, and tonight is the democratic debate, so go watch that and see if you vibe with my boy bernie, ok?  ok, be safe, i love you, wear a scarf if its cold outside

(below is the chapter text, so you don’t have to leave tumblr if you don’t want to! if you read it on here, could you like and/or reblog for me? i would appreciate it!)

Kim vividly remembers the day she met John Seed, just a few short years before the end of the world. He and his family had been in town all of a month when they had shown up unannounced to a potluck Kim and Nick were hosting, bringing along a last-minute macaroni dish. The three brothers were polite enough, and the big one seemed embarrassed by their offering compared to the other plates at the table, so Kim had let the party-crashing slide. Hell, she'd even let the strange brunette woman that accompanied them walk around her house like a second-rate psychic looking for ghosts. The rumor mill hadn't had time to chew much on them, so all Kim knew about the Seeds was that they were trying to put together a commune and the middle brother was some kind of preacher. It all sounded very tent-revivalist to her, but mostly harmless. Sure, they were weird, but they were hardly the only weirdos living in the county, so who was Kim to judge?

She had been standing alone by the cooler with a beer when John had sidled up to her. His reputation had already gotten a head start, having already stepped on Mary May's toes before showing his face to the town at large, and he was clearly attempting to avoid people who had already heard Mary May's take on the situation. Whether or not he realized Kim had already heard all about his unapologetic come-ons, he sure seemed interested in showing her his good side. He had been all smiles and charm, shaking her hand with both of his own and complimenting everything about the house and party and people. But, even as he coasted through the pleasantries and small-talk, John had eyed Kim like she was a piece of meat, one up for grabs by whoever flagged down the butcher first.

Just when he seemed ready to open his mouth and order himself a bad time, Nick had swooped in beside Kim with his hand extended, wearing his least genuine grin. Committing to another two-handed shake, John made more sweeping compliments and asked Nick a couple of questions about the airstrip. He may have even been genuinely interested in what Nick had to say on the matter, but in retrospect, all Kim can remember is the way he had looked at her. No longer was Kim a lifeless, prime cut of beef — now, she had teeth in the form of her redneck aviator husband, who wasn't buying anything John was selling.

Nick had smiled and waved at John as he excused himself, disappearing in the direction of his brothers. "What a fuckin' creep," Nick had declared through his clenched teeth.

Kim had thought then that they knew what kind of creep John was. By the time he began sending men to the house to intimidate them, she'd realized he was something much worse. He was something out of a schlocky psychological thriller, a sociopath with a rumored body count, who calculated each of his steps with pointed disregard for human life, gleefully buying up land for their cult and chasing all but the bravest away from their homes. There had been rumors about people disappearing, but Kim hadn't wanted to believe them. There had been a whole lot Kim hadn't wanted to believe. It was when John started calling, leaving desperate messages begging them to "just say yes, so I don't have to make you," that Kim had to stop hiding her head in the sand.

Kim barely had time to celebrate when he died the first time, what with Carmina being born and the world ending, and she had much better things to do in the years following than spare a thought towards him. It wasn't until Nick dragged John into their home eight years later that his name had even crossed Kim's mind.

She thinks about John a lot now, for better or worse. At first, all of her instincts had her thinking about him sleeping nearby. How much force it would take to break the bedroom locks. How strong and fast he might secretly still be. She would watch him work and think about all the awful things he would be putting Nick and her through, if their positions were reversed. She would question his every move, tired and sluggish as they might have been.

Nowadays, she mostly thinks about how tired he really seems. She thinks a lot about his eight years of solitude, and questions just how dedicated he really is to waving a white flag. The John Seed she used to know, the one she had underestimated a lifetime ago, he would never have willingly submitted himself to manual labor the way he does now. He would never sit silent and anxious until Nick or Kim bossed him around. At first, she had thought he was doing it out of necessity, being as sick as he was, but now... well, now, she's not so sure.

John is stronger than he has any right to be. Kim never had the opportunity to confront him physically before, so she has no idea if John has always been like this, or if it's something that happened in isolation. After all, eight years by yourself is a great time to workout — at least until your supplies run out, or you catch a sickness that won't go away. It should probably worry her more, but Nick's confidence has rubbed off on Kim, and all she concerns herself with is giving him jobs that measure up to his abilities.

Like today, for example. Nick and Carmina have started on a project together, putting together a hen coop worthy of housing Carmina's first pets, and with planting season practically here, Kim is ready to tackle her own construction project. Somehow, a tractor wound up on the runway, overturned and mangled as if it had been in a car accident — or a nuclear blast — and Kim has a plan for the thing's large, mostly-intact tires. With enough mulch and soil, Kim's sure that she can make them into reliable planters, and she might even manage to grow something worth eating this year. First, though, they have to come off the tractor — and that's where John comes in.

Kim watches John peel one tire off of the crescent-shaped wheel it's clinging to, thinking to herself again that John is stronger than he should be. He rolls the massive tire back down the runway towards her, looking mildly winded from the exertion, face red from the sun. He doesn't look anything like the walking corpse Nick had found a few months back.

Despite herself, Kim is impressed with his progress. When Nick had first brought him in, she hadn't expected him to make it through the night, much less the following day. It had been hospice care to her, at least for the first week — but then John had turned a corner, eating again and managing to stand on his own feet, and all at once Kim had forgotten about reading his last rites.

Slowing the tire to a stop, John wipes his arm across his brow and asks, "Here?"

"Yeah," Kim says. "That's fine. One more to go."

John nods, turning and retreating down the runway towards the tractor's mangled remains. Kim watches him go, waiting for him to realize how easy it would be to get away. She's a great shot with the rifle, but she's only got the pistol with her today, and Nick is all the way on the other side of the hangar. There's no fence on this side of the strip, and the overgrowth is thick enough to disappear into. It would take him a matter of seconds to escape, if he would just try.

But he doesn't. Kim has no idea why not — it's not like they're making much of an effort to keep him locked up. Nick does his best, but they're not a maximum-security prison. Hell, they don't even have an enclosed fence! With all of his experience managing a human trafficking cult, he has to see that they're woefully unprepared to hold him. There's no way he hasn't itemized every hole in their security and how he could use them to his advantage.

The tire has been partially popped off of the tractor wheel, but John's probably going to need a wrench or something to pry the rest of it free. Otherwise, Kim is going to be watching him strain uselessly, and while sometimes it can be gratifying to watch John struggle with menial tasks, Kim wants these planters done as soon as possible.

She marches toward him to size the problem up, only to pull up short as John tears the tire off of the wheel. Metal scrapes against itself as the axle twists, and Kim hears a pop when John finally leverages the tire free, leaving the wheel to hang limply from the axle. There's a long rip in the tire's lip, probably from where a security bolt tore through the old rubber.

"Jesus," she says, not realizing she's close enough for John to hear her until he frowns in her direction. She tries to mask for her concern over his uncanny strength, but all she has going for her these days is motherly frustration. "You could have hurt yourself," she scolds, as if that's going to cover it.

John huffs. "Why does that matter?" he asks.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but we don't exactly have a doctor to take you to if you slice your arm on rusted machinery and contract tetanus."

Considering how passive John's been, it comes as something of a surprise when he heaves a frustrated sigh, bracing the tire with both hands and doing his best to ignore Kim while she stands right next to him. It's just irritating enough that she sticks her foot out to block the tire, eyeballing him defiantly and mentally daring him to keep being a baby. Ugh, as if a man like him could be intimidated by a 40-year-old mom's unimpressed glare.

He ducks his eyes. "Alright, fine," he surrenders.

Kim lets him roll on, following with a furrowed brow as she tries to figure out what his deal is. The John she remembers would never put up with the kind of disrespect Kim shows him. He would be... seething, or something. Planning to murder her, probably. But if he was going to murder them, he would have done it already. He definitely would have done it when Nick let him sleep in their room. But every opening he has, he ignores in favor of the full surrender he'd willingly placed himself under.

Once John sets the tire down, wiping his forehead clear of sweat, he asks, "What's next on your list of petty tortures?"

If John thinks being petulant will get him anywhere with Kim, he is sorely mistaken. She raises an unimpressed eyebrow and asks, "Do you really think this is me trying to torture you?" She can't help but be a little offended — as if she couldn't come up with something worse than household chores if she wanted.

"I don't know what to think," John sighs.

Kim can count the number of times John has been honest with her on one hand, and that's including before the bombs dropped. A few minutes ago, she might've entertained his mild back-talking to dig at his motivations, but she's certainly not in the mood now.

"You don't need to think," she says. "Just do what I tell you."

It's as easily said as done with John, who shuts up with a deep frown and follows Kim mutely for the next hour or two, helping her shovel a mixture of composted leaves and topsoil into a wheelbarrow. They have to make three trips to get enough to fill the tires, which is sweaty, smelly work that Kim won't leave to John alone. Even if she didn't want to get her hands dirty, she would feel guilty if she made him do it by himself, considering it's a job she could easily do alone.

Once they've finished dumping the dirt into the makeshift planters, Kim turns to John with a critical eye. At last, she offers him more than a few curt orders.

"This isn't supposed to be torture, you know," she tells him. "Everything we tell you to do, it's because it needs to be done, not because we want to watch you suffer."

"It must help," John grunts.

"Honestly? Not really." Kim sits on one tire, watching John shift his weight between his feet. He somehow seems small, even as he stands over her. "I've seen enough suffering to last a lifetime. Haven't you?"

John doesn't respond. He turns his head to stare at the hangar — probably wishing he was putting the coop together with Nick, who loves it when John is quietly repentant, and who hates talking about this kind of stuff in general. If Carmina weren't over there, John would definitely be trying to excuse himself to her husband's side.

"I think we're done here for now," Kim says at last. "I'm going to start dinner. You can sit quietly with me, or go help Carmina and Nick with the coop."

She refuses to pick for him, leaving him to look between the hangar and the fire-pit and debate on his own whether he wants to deal with Kim's weak interrogation skills or being in the same room as Carmina for any length of time. Any time she gives him a choice, he usually goes for whatever will keep him busier, but he seems actively repulsed by the idea of spending any time around Carmina.

After a few seconds of consideration, John nods reluctantly. "I'll sit," he says, almost as though he's admitting defeat. When Kim leads him over to the fire, he sits on the same patch of dirt he usually does, even with plenty of seating options. He doesn't talk much, and since Kim has nothing to ask him, she leaves him to his own thoughts while she starts getting dinner ready.

When she catches him starting to doze, she can't help but sarcastically quip, "Some torture, huh?"

John shoots her a dark look in return, but it's going to take more than a mean scowl to bother her.

Nick and Carmina get up early one morning to go fishing. Kim sleepily sees them out of the bedroom, unwilling to face the gray morning chill herself, and wishes them as much luck as she can muster while half-asleep. Nick hesitates a whole lot by the bedroom door, still reluctant to leave Kim alone with John, but he knows better than to make a bigger deal about it than she does. Kim appreciates his concern, even if nowadays she doesn't think it's warranted.

They'll be back a little after noon, and Kim's list of chores has finally shrunk to something manageable, so she lazes for just a little bit before finally committing to the day. It takes her a little longer to commit to utilizing John outside, since she doesn't have any work for him and it would be great to have a morning to herself, but leaving him to stew all day feels wrong.

John's already awake when she goes to get him, dressed and sitting on the pallet-board bed that Nick let him piece together. He only looks mildly surprised to see Kim fetching him by herself, which means he probably heard Nick leave earlier. He isn't very talkative today, resorting to monosyllabic responses to her questions as they eat breakfast downstairs. He sits quietly at the table with Kim, not touching his food until he catches Kim staring expectantly at him. Kim shouldn't be surprised — after eight years on his own, he's probably more comfortable in silence. Either that, or he talked himself out of words down in that bunker of his. She would ask, but John avoids talking about his time underground at all costs, and she doesn't see today being any different.

Kim waits until they've gotten out into the yard to reveal her cigar box full of seed packets. "It's a little early to start planting," she explains, "But I have a good feeling about this batch of spinach."

John waits expectantly, his frown deepening as Kim fails to elaborate on his part in all of this. "You want my help," he realizes at last. "...With gardening ."

He says it with so much disbelief that Kim almost thinks he's making fun of her. "What did you think we were going to do after we filled these things with soil?" she asks. "They needed to sit, and now we need to plant. You're here, so you're helping me."

"I —" John stares at her, biting the inside of his cheek as though he's trying to mind himself. "That isn't going to work. You'd be better off letting me dismantle the tractor for scrap."

"I'm not asking you to do that," Kim points out, "I'm asking you to poke some holes in the dirt. This isn't rocket science. Even Carmina can do it."

"Then have Carmina do it ," John snaps, immediately clenching his jaw to try and prevent another outburst.

"If you're trying to give me trouble just because Nick isn't around, then I'll just put you back in your room."

John sulks for a few seconds, weighing his words now that he's out on thin ice. "Plants and I aren't compatible," he grudgingly admits. "I have a black thumb. And this is important work, I don't — I don't understand why you would risk it."

Kim tries hard to resist pulling on her kid gloves, and yet she still can't help but go easy on him. "John, it's an irradiated wasteland. You are the least of these plants' concerns. All you have to do is follow instructions. You can do that, right?"

She expects him to roll his eyes or get huffy at her coddling him, even just a little, but he only nods in return. "Yes," he says, falling back into what can't possibly be comfortable subservience.

Well, it works for Kim — he doesn't try to fight her as she shows him how to space out the holes, how deep to make them and how many seeds to put in each one. She watches him finish a row before she decides he's got it, and settles in across from him to start on the opposite side of the planter. John looks surprised that she's working with him, but she finds digging in the dirt relaxing, and she's got to pass the time somehow.

Kim enjoys gardening, getting her hands dirty while ensuring she and her family have plenty of food. She'd never really gotten the chance to practice before the bombs, but that didn't stop her from growing some sad looking carrots and potatoes last year. They plant spinach and beets, as well as some carrots that Kim doubts will survive. The other planter stays empty, but Kim has a plan to grow some soybeans later in the season, and if the seeds don't take, maybe corn will.

John is wholly focused on his side of the planter, meticulously careful, like this is some kind of exact science that he barely understands. A city boy through and through, Kim supposes — it isn't like a hotshot lawyer from Atlanta would spend much time at the local community garden, right? His history with gardening is probably littered with dead ferns and succulents that couldn't survive his negligence.

When he sits back to rest a minute, four straight rows like spokes in front of him, Kim throws him a bone. "Looking pretty good."

"Don't patronize me."

Kim rolls her eyes. Of course John would be incapable of taking even the most mundane compliment, no matter how genuinely Kim might give it. "I'm not. You're doing a good job."

John sighs heavily, still very much not believing her, but he doesn't argue the point.

Nick and Carmina return just after John finishes his final row. Usually, Carmina comes back looking pretty defeated, as fishing isn't something she's gotten the hang of yet, and Nick will try not to let on that he did poorly on purpose to make her feel better. Today, though, Carmina marches with a straight back and a big grin, and Nick follows her with a bucket of smallmouth bass.

"Who wants fish?" Nick calls triumphantly, visibly excited for Carmina to finally have a "big catch" story.

Kim stands, knocking the dirt off of her knees, and takes a look at the radial design left behind in the soil. She's going to have to water and keep a close eye on these little suckers, but with any luck, they'll grow at least enough to make for good compost. It would be nice to have some impressive produce to trade, though, so here's hoping that spinach turns out.

"Hard part's over," Kim tells John, who reluctantly follows her lead and climbs to his feet. "Now, it's a waiting game."

"I wouldn't expect miracles," John mutters. Kim pretends not to hear him.

John avoids the garden as much as he can once the planting is done. Kim doesn't need his help, so she doesn't press it, but she notices whenever he surreptitiously checks the progress the seeds are making. He seems happy enough to be done handling them, but Kim bets he's still keeping an eye out for any evidence of failure. Kim doesn't want to take away Nick's extra pair of hands, especially considering how hard work seems to comfort John more than long stretches of silence surrounded by dirt, so for the first two weeks, Kim handles most of the gardening herself.

Nick and him have been steadily chipping away at Nick's list of home repairs, their DIY solutions changing the topography of the family home bit by bit. The roof is dotted with white shingles cobbled together from old siding, the windows have been boarded up with full sheets of plywood instead of haphazard wooden planks, and part of the hangar's exposed roof has been covered by a quilt of stitched together pieces of tarp. They've even managed to clear back some of the vines that have been swallowing every structure in the valley. Nick has pretty much given up on letting John do everything by himself by now, although he definitely delegates the harder work to John and takes the first drink of water whenever they take a break. Nick has always been a hands-on kind of guy, though — sitting by while there's work to be done goes against his nature. It had only been a matter of time before he demanded to pull his own weight.

Kim checks the plants more frequently and obviously than John does. She had been expecting most of the plants to fail, considering the packets they came from are easily eight years old and thrown into an old box with no thought to preserving them, but a week in and they seem to have taken pretty well. Tiny, two-leaf sprouts have started to poke their way through the soil where the spinach was planted. The beets don't seem to have done quite as well, but surviving tiny sprouts have also started to show. Kim doesn't trust the carrots, but it'll be another week or so before they start seeing any results from them, so she withholds judgment for now.

"Been thinking about going into town," Nick mentions one night as the four of them eat dinner at the table. John still seems uneasy sitting with them instead of on the stairs or in his room, but at least he doesn't need someone to goad him into eating.

Carmina's face lights up. "Can I come?" she asks, practically before Nick has finished speaking. From the way Nick smiles at her, Kim's sure he was about to suggest that very thing, which makes it easy for Kim to agree.

"Sure," she says. "As long as your dad promises not to cut across the field this time. No," she scolds Nick as he opens his mouth to argue, "There's a herd of bison out there that are as big as the car, and you are not a matador, Nick."

"What's the point of an apocalypse if I gotta follow all the roads?" Nick complains, relenting with a theatrical sigh. "You're right," he admits, emphasizing for Carmina, "Your mom's right. The roads are a lot safer than any open field."

Kim glances at John, who has his head down over his plate, looking uncomfortable with the conversation circling so close to him. Nick follows her line of sight, frowns, and then asks, "So, uh, John... You got any interest in going into town?"

John swallows the bite he just took, wincing as it goes down wrong. "No," he croaks.

"Okay," Nick says, not at all upset to hear it. "That leaves just you and me, sweetheart."

Later on, once they're getting ready for bed, Nick can't help but circle back, horrified by his own gall. "What would I have done if he'd said yes?" he asks Kim. "He'd incite a riot just by showing his face. The second everybody knows he's alive..."

"It's going to happen eventually," Kim says. "I think we should at least let him make the choice about when ."

Nick accepts her reasoning with a petulant, "I guess, " but he spends another hour or two silently turning it over in his head.

They don't leave until after breakfast, which Nick lets John be part of. He's still sensitive about sharing his family time with anybody, much less John, but he's getting used to it bit by bit. Kim would blame it on the apocalypse if it weren't for the fact that he's always been very protective of his mornings.

John looks uneasy as Nick and Carmina head out, tensing at the sound of the car starting. Kim isn't all that used to it either, but at least they managed to find a car and enough gas to make the occasional trip to town possible.

Well, since there's nobody else around, and nothing left for Kim to do, she decides it time to bring John back to the garden.

"Ready to learn how to weed?" she asks.

To his credit, John waits until they're outside and facing down the lightly weeding planter to argue. "There's still a lot of work to do in the hangar," he says. "Doesn't that sound like a better use for me?"

"No," she replies. "You need to know how to do this." She sighs when he remains standing, staring up at him unimpressed. "Either you help me with this, or you can go pout in your room about it."

Kim waits until John reluctantly sits on his knees to join him. She walks him through the process of prying up the thin, quickly growing stems, tossing them into the bucket between them, and shows him how to pull out the root systems that might get left behind. Most of the weeds that are growing are small, but those pernicious vines have been reportedly growing like crazy in any and all soil and Kim doesn't want to give them a chance to cozy up to her produce.

It's not complicated work, so John picks it up fast, but he goes tediously slow, almost to the point where Kim thinks he's messing with her. Well, the joke's on him — Kim has raised one of the most independent children in the state, and she knows how to deal with petulance. She's fine with long stretches of silence, she's fine with dirt, and she's fine with leaving people to stew.

"Have you always been a gardener?" John asks after a length time, rushing the words as if he'd been chewing them over for too long and he just wants them out of his mouth.

John rarely ever asks questions that aren't about his so-called punishment, so Kim is inclined to indulge him. "No, not really," she answers. "My mom grew flowers, and I would try to keep those little starter herb kits alive every so often, but I never really dedicated my time to it." She hesitates, hopefully not noticeably, and adds, "We had some old gardening magazines in a box in the bunker. They turned out to be a good way to pass the time. You know?"

John hums neutrally in response. Kim hadn't expected much better; even casual talk about life underground shuts John up pretty fast. It's such an obvious psychological scar that even Nick can't miss it, and although the two of them will speculate, neither of them have so far pushed hard enough to find out more. Kim doesn't know if John's trauma is the Pandora's box she wants to open, but she has so many questions and so many worries that could be put to rest if she could just figure out how to interrogate him about it.

She's being too obvious, staring at him like she is, and John is quick to catch her. His brow furrows as he stares back expectantly. Probably waiting for her to drag the information she wants out of him, no doubt, the same way he would rip confessions out of people.

When she fails to do whatever it is he's waiting for, he turns his attention back to the remaining weeds. Frustration colors his voice when he eventually speaks.

"I wish you wouldn't stare at me."

"I usually look at people who ask me questions," Kim replies, trying not to be pedantic and failing pretty miserably.

"Just tell me what you want from me."

Kim sits back on her heels, wiping her forehead with a dirty hand. "I don't really know," she admits. She probably shouldn't be so honest with him, so open about her lack of motivation, but she can't see any reason to lie. Maybe telling him the truth will encourage him to do the same? She knows that's wishful thinking, but it's worth a try.

"I guess I want you to... prove you're trying. That this isn't all some kind of act. But honestly, I don't know what kind of proof would convince me. There's eight years of blank history that might help, but you don't want to talk about it."

She doesn't hesitate to bring up the bunker this time, even when it makes him squirm. She can see him working on a response and heads it off as best she can.

"Look," she says, "You don't have to tell me now. You don't even have to tell me . But eventually, if you're really serious about making amends, you're going to have to tell someone ."

For a moment, John rests his fingers in the dirt as if he might just go back to his work. He's staring at the green leaves, waiting for one of the plants to give him the right answer, the one that will make the conversation end before he has to get involved.

Finally, terribly lost and frustrated at himself for winding up that way, he asks, "Why won't you just make me ?"

His uncertainty settles in Kim's stomach like a lead weight. He refuses to look at her, and somehow that makes it worse. She knows Nick would probably scold her for being overly sympathetic, but she can't help it. She can't hide her worry when she answers, no matter how much it might chafe John to hear it.

"You have to want to get better to do it," she tells him. "Nobody can do it for you."

John doesn't respond. Kim doesn't hold her breath over it, returning to the remaining weeds. But as his silence grows, Kim finds herself checking on him in her periphery. Before the Collapse, John had been easy to read, his reactions unrestrained and sometimes bordering theatrical. These days, Kim can't pin him down.

John treats the fresh sprouts as though they're too fragile to touch, sincerely confused at the progress the garden has made despite his interference. Had he really thought that he could mess them up just by planting them? No wonder he was so sure that she was making a mistake, enlisting his help.

"Things are going well, given the circumstances," she says at last. "I guess you don't have a black thumb after all."

"I stand corrected," he replies. He looks at her briefly, but when he catches her watching him he's quick to look back to the dirt. Kim doesn't miss the way he continues to appreciate the small green stalks.

Later, after the weeds have been eradicated and dinner has been started, Kim hears the car coming down the drive. John is in the middle of dragging scrap metal out of the hangar, so he doesn't notice it right away, but there's no missing Carmina and Nick's raised voices. They aren't quiet by any means as they wander from the front yard to the back, talking enthusiastically about the monstrous bison they'd seen in the field on their way home. When John recognizes them coming into view, he stops working briefly, raising his arm to shield his eyes from the hastily setting sun.

"That's, uh, a pretty wide leash you're giving him," Nick says to Kim, having the good sense to at least kiss his wife hello before he starts in on judging her.

"He knows what you guys are doing in there better than I do," she replies. "How was town?"

Carmina is the one to answer, her excitement hard to contain. "We saw the bison!" she exclaims. "Pastor Jerome let me go to the top of the church tower! We got a bunch of stuff!"

She has a whole lot more to tell Kim, which she does in rapid-fire bullet-points before running off to unload supplies from the car. From all of her talk of apples, Kim hopes that some of them made their way home.

Nick waits until she's out of sight, checking to see that John hasn't yet come to join them, and then offers Kim a helpless shrug. "So, Jerome knows about John, I guess."

The comment shouldn't make Kim as uneasy as it does. "Oh?"

"Grace told him." Nick takes off his hat, tossing it onto the porch and running a hand through his hair. "He said he had to think about it more. But, uh... that he trusts us to do what's right. I dunno, he didn't quote any scripture at me so I couldn't tell how mad he really was."

He's watching John at the front of the hangar like he's surprised John isn't running. "I really thought this was gonna go differently," he says after a beat. "I thought for sure he'd have given us a reason to off him by now."

Kim chuckles. "Yeah, the same way you thought feeding the raccoons would make them go away."

"I couldn't help it," Nick sighs. "They looked so damn hungry."

John finishes unloading the wheelbarrow's contents. For a moment, he stands with his back to them, staring at the hangar. When he turns around, he straightens up, waiting. For what, Kim couldn't possibly say. She wishes he would just tell them what he thinks they ought to do already, but that's not going to happen any time soon.

Nick cups a hand to his mouth and shouts, "C'mon, I got a bunch of supplies you need to unload!"

John puts his hands on his hips, taking a brief rest before starting in their direction. Kim wouldn't believe he's the same man from a few months ago if she hadn't seen the transformation herself. She hopes all this change has been for the better, but she wonders if it's going to be enough.

[invertedeidolon]

The Longest Library #3: Griffin & Sabine by Nick Bantock (Or, Eidolon again talks way too much about previous relationships, also, pretty art!)

(This is a series in which I attempt to read and review all (or most of) my library of 297 books.)

Rundown: Postcard artist Griffin Moss gets a weird letter from a weird lady who can apparently see what he's drawing telepathically. They form an ill concieved bond over it. The story is told in colorful postcards and envelopes you can open and then read the mysterious things inside. 4.5/5 for calling me THE FUCK OUT and having some BOMB ASS ART.

I can't give it a full 5 because not everyone is going to have that experience when they read this. It's just going to look very strange and floaty and things won't make very much sense. This book hits close to home with me because it heavily echoes (more like yells about) my first long distance relationship. I'm not really able to see this book through any other lens, so that's what my commentary is mostly about.

So for the part that ISN'T about that stuff though: The art is amazing. Even though it's made by one person technically, both fictional artists have their own, distinct style. Let's be real: The art and the interactivity is the main draw of this book. There are envelopes inside with letters carrying a myriad of little details: Griffin uses a typewriter for his long-form letters, and bits where he's crossed out typos or added in letters with pen, or that Sabine's correspondence is something I now recognize as someone who uses quills or manual dip pens. The inconsistency in the color of her writings suggests she's using a homemade ink, brownish in color, slightly too watery. Maybe it's even watered down watercolor and not even ink at all. They've also made the background of her letters and cards a rich dark gray, while Griffin's is a clean, sterile white.

"Will you explain to me about those geometric paintings you did at Art college? I want to understand their hidden language of color and shape. It's so alien to me."

So this is about the fourth time I'm reading this book since I first got it, and now that I have to write about it, I'm noticing so many more details. Here the line "It's so alien to me."is written in smaller, slightly more rounded letters. The ink is much darker here too, suggesting she wrote this slowly, thoughtfully. What a detail!

Anyway that's it for the objective bits of the book, the rest is entirely subjective from here on out.

"The phenomenon that links us has taught me much about you, yet I am ignorant of your history."

My years and years of suffering emotional abuse set me up to be able to read and predict what was going on in your head perfectly, as well as respond in the most helpful ways with eerie precision, yet I am ignorant of your history, and who you really are (because you use such obtuse floaty language and metaphor. Who were you really? Suffering, but that's about all I could tell.)

"Why doesn't this alarm me as much as it should?"

Because we're already "in". And I "feel safe" to you because I've been trained to be the least offensive, most placating being in the universe. If I could build a business model on conversational comfort, if I could sell my goddamn empathy like the capitalist machine really wants me to, *I'd be so rich*. It would be like, a step down from therapist. Anybody want a virtual friend for like an hour? Gimme 20 and we can watch stupid videos or I can calmly talk you through bread making. It's okay, you can cry. GOD PLEASE LET ME JUST SELL MYSELF SAFELY, I WAS MADE FOR THIS GODDAMNIT.

"I want to hear everything. Write in detail. Tell me all about yourself. I demand to know - please."

This is like fucking CRACK to those with a suppressed self. An unwitnessed self. "Someone who's interested in ME, and won't yell at, ignore, or dismiss me for talking! Holy fuck I love you!"

"Finally I knew who you were. I counselled myself to be cautious and find out what you were like before revealing myself fully."

Sabine at this point is to the reader who I was to Him. A weird mythical creature, the non-human monster of your lonely adolescent imaginings, who is intimately aware of your secrets, "I've been watching you" it says before introducing you to a wondrous world free of the pains of living, where you actually feel loved and all is well forever and ever. Except I wasn't as inhuman as I wished to be.

"Occasionally I'd come home to a re-enactment of The Battle of Britain in the front room. [...] My entrance would make no difference to their dogfight, but when one of them accidentally (and inevitably) knocked over a pile of books, they'd stop instantly and unite to examine the extent of the damage."

The whole 'making light of a not-great home life because it was your normal for so long that you still haven't learned that you need to be horrified about it' thing. As well as passing it off as something funny. Thankfully this character's parents (SPOILER?) get literally run over by a truck and he gets sent to live with his mom's step sister who is really good and lets him ditch school to become a potter's apprentice and eventually go to art college. He never really deals with the grief when the step sister dies, OBVIOUSLY.

"And hearing that my existence eased your pain made my heart race. We have found one another, and I give thanks."

Hearing that my existence wasn't going to be punished but instead, made someone happy? Fucking HEROIN. Downplay it a little with grateful gentleness, I don't want to be punished for being presumptuous or for seeming like I like it too much. If I like things too much they get destroyed, hard.

"My kinsmen are responsive to me - but there is no one to reach my heart, and you who are so far away, have been closer to me than any man on the Islands."

This is something I remember. So far all they've done is shared eachother's life stories and gushed about how close they feel now. She (like my past self), has confused the feeling of 'finally, a witness! they're witnessing me! I've been Seen!' with the feeling of attachment. Of course she would feel infinitely more attached to this man. She's witnessed his most private moments as a creator for a good portion of her life. It's been a mainstay throughout her adolescence through adulthood, so of course an unwarranted sense of intimacy is going to be attached to this mysterious figure. The whole thing wrapped up in a dream like sense of mysticism.

"I remember your first erotic drawing; I was trembling from head to foot by the time you'd finished. Was that Sarah? No don't answer; I'm only teasing."

...Unless? (Man the implications hurt to think about. I REMEMBER THIS FEELING. This author has unintentionally called me out. I wonder how much of Sabine’s writing is actually calm, or if she’s reigning herself in almost constantly?)

"I was finding it hard to get over the idea of there being other men in your life when I reached the part in your letter about my erotic drawings. I stopped being jealous. We were lovers and I hadn't realized it. The drawings weren't of Sarah; they were of you."

ow ow ow ow ow ow JUST SAY IT ow ow ow ow, Also, I REALLY wanted her to be like 'bitch that looks nothing like me, what the fuck', but instead she's all like "So you've been making love to me ten thousand miles away - how tantalizing." URGH. TOO CLOSE, TOO FAST. DISENTANGLE YOURSELVES NOW. GRIFFIN GET HELP.

"I had failed to understand how unhappy you are. You cover up with jokes and a front of being self-contained. I'm worried for you."

EVEN SHE SEES IT, GET HELP.

"When you found me, I thought my loneliness had gone for good. I was kidding myself. I desperately desire your company. I haven't talked to anyone in three days. I was sure I was going to start seeing your pictures like you see mine. I've tried so hard. [...] How can I miss you this badly when we've never met?"

BECAUSE YOU MISS HUMAN CONTACT AND YOU DON'T HAVE ANY FAMILY LEFT YOU NERD, GET HELP. DON'T HANG IT ON ONE PERSON WHO IS TOO FAR AWAY TO HELP YOU IN THE WAY YOU NEED.

"Island magic works on island souls. You and I will heal eachother."

ANTIDEPRESSANTS MAYBE UUUUGGGGHHHHH

"I've started to hate this city, this country, all these stupid fucking people [...] I finally snapped. [...] I want to know what you look like."

*HEAVILY RECOILS*

"Why, my kindred spirit, are you prepared to settle for a postcard of my face? If you wish to see me, why not come here? What is there to stop you - you're clearly unhappy where you are. Come."

Yes. I offered and I offered and I offered. What's to stop you from just fucking TALKING TO ME instead of DISAPPEARING OVER AND OVER AGAIN. and then COMPLAINING THAT YOU'RE SO HURT AND LONELY. I'M LONELY TOO. WHEN I HAD THE MONEY YOU DIDN’T TAKE MY OFFER FOR ME TO COME SEE YOU, SO WHAT THE FUCK IS UP KYLE?

"Foolish man. You cannot turn me into a phantom because you are frightened."

This kind of sentiment is what lead to the breakup. This feeling of being large, and dark, and slighted. Being real and supernatural. Make your choice. Say REAL words instead of just flagellating yourself. Do I exist to you?

"If you will not join me, then I will come to you."

Unfortunately, Sabine has what I definitely did not: Mobility, the ability to make things real. She had a job and money and her own life and the ability to travel. I had a shitty little shared room in my parent's house where I spent most of the time partially starved and dodging devils in one form or another. Many many times I wanted to spontaneously show up and give him the closeness that he needed. But I couldn't. And he wouldn't take my words. He wouldn’t take me.

3 down, 294 to go.

[a-home-for-stray-stories]

WWE Preference: Uhh....

Sometimes words fail us.

So, there’s only three in this one: Finn, Dean, and Roman, but they’re kind of long for preferences.

I know there are other’s that people have asked about and I’m hoping that finishing some of my little, almost-done stuff and getting somethings posted will wake my brain up.

Roman’s is angsty.

Finn Balor - This bar had the best food in your tiny town. You and your best friend, Madison, often met here for dinner. The two of you sat at the bar going on about everything from work to family. “So, Nick? What’s that about?” Madison asked between french fries. You shrugged your shoulders, “He’s nice. Thought I’d give him a shot.” You lifted the bun off your burger, peeled the pickles off, and handed them to her. “That’s tomorrow night, right?” She asked while adding your pickles to her burger. You nodded, “It’s some wrestling show down in Baton Rouge.” “Baton Rouge? That’s like two hours.” She looked at you funny. “It’s an hour and a half. I’m more worried about the show. I have no idea what to expect. He’s a huge fan.” You squared up to your burger and took a bite. “Well, you know I’ll come get you if it gets too freaky.” Madison pointed at you to emphasize her point and you laughed. After a full day of work, the two of you didn’t last too much longer. You gave her a hug before the two of you parted ways. The bar wasn’t far from your house, but of course the gas light reminded you that you needed to fill up. There was only one other car at the station when you pulled up. You caught a glimpse of the driver as you made your way to the pump. “Damn.” You thought as you began filling your car up and pulled your cell phone out to text Madison. “This guy at the gas station is so hot.” You were so involved in your phone that you didn’t noticed him walk over to you. “Excuse me?” His voice made you jump and nearly drop your phone.  “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He said with a little bit of a giggle, “I was just wondering if you could tell me how to get to Baton Rouge? Our GPS wants us to take all these back roads and...this interstate should take us there right?” It was all so much. His eyes, his tight shirt, and his accent. You stumbled over some words before you were able to converse, “Uh...I...ya...“ You shook your head, “Yes. Stay on 55 until you get to 12 and that will take you straight into Baton Rouge.” He beamed a smile that stunned you again. “Thanks! Are we very far?” Before you could answer another man came from the store. “Finn, are you buggin’ her?” A man with his black hair in a bun joined you. “No” Finn defended, “I’m just gettin’ directions.” “We have a GPS...” “It’s wrong, Seth. She said we could stay on this interstate.” You watched the two of them go back and forth, completely dumbfounded. What the fuck was happening? These two were hotter than every man in you little town combined. You finally got back into the conversation, “Ya, just under an hour on 55, then about 45 minutes on 12.” “See, I told you.” Finn told Seth. Seth just rolled his eyes and went back to their car. “Thank you so much.” Finn said with a smile and started to follow him. You felt a strong need to say something cool, “If you haul ass, you can get some food at Sammy’s Grill. They close at 10, but it’s worth it.” With a smile, he was gone. You had to tell Madison the entire story about three times before you were able to go to bed. The next day you pretty much accepted that it was a hallucination. Next thing you knew, you were in Nick’s truck on your way to Baton Rouge yourself. The ride wasn’t horrible. Nick was funny and sweet. It was fun to see him so excited for the show. He rattled off names that blurred together. He ended up surprising you with front row seats. You sipped on some beer as he explained every little thing that was happening. By the third match, you were catching the hang of it and honestly, starting to enjoy it. It was time for the next match, and when the wrestler came out you could hardly believe your eyes. Proof that it wasn’t a dream. Finn proceeded with his entrance until he saw you. With that smile, he came to you. “I never got your name.” He said. “Y/n” You told him. “Hey, I’m Nick.” Nick was so excited he didn’t realize you two knew each other. Finn gave him a handshake. “First date.” You threw in, hoping it was subtle enough to let him know it wasn’t serious. Finn’s smile never wavered, “Sammy’s was great, by the way.” Finn gave you a wink before moving on. Nick could hardly believe your gas station story. After the match, Finn made his was around the barrier back to you. “You got your phone?” He asked, “Let’s get a picture.” He suggested, motioning to both of you. You pulled up your camera and handed it to him. Other than Nick’s head being slightly cut off, it was a good picture. Before he handed it back to you, he texted the picture to himself. “It was nice seeing you again.” He handed you the phone, “I’ll talk you later.” Again, with a smile and a wink, he walked away.

Dean Ambrose - You were extremely serious about this job. You worked hard to get to where you were, and you worked even harder to stay there. Being a WWE Superstar was the only thing you ever focused on, but in this match, focus was elusive. How you got paired up with Dean was beyond you. His ringside antics drove you insane. When you found out you’d be his partner, you nearly lost your shit. “Trust the writers” “It’ll go better than you think.” Kurt's words echoed in your head as “just this one time” turned into “just a few more weeks.”. You hated your time with him, but he loved it. He acted out as much as he could to get under your skin and fans ate it up. Of course, the big debate was whether you truly hated him, or if you were hiding feelings for him. When asked about it in interviews, the answer was “We have drastically different styles...personalities, but we’re figuring it out.”. You weren’t allowed to say you hated him in public, but you weren’t going to say you had feelings for him...because you didn’t....at all...maybe just a little...what? no, absolutely not. The general fan consensus was summed up by a big, neon sign reading “Beauty and The Lunatic”  - with the appropriate pictures (you and Dean crudely photo-shopped as Belle and the Beast) - that was staring you in the face while you were squaring up to Alexa Bliss. Miz had just tagged her in, which forced you and Dean to switch. You and Alexa locked up, and soon you shoved her back towards her corner. She stumbled into the post and glared back at you. Then her gaze moved past you and her face twisted in confusion. You turned around to find Dean leaning over the ropes with a box of popcorn and a drink. This shit pissed you off, while the audience died laughing. “Uhh...what are you doing?” You asked him. “I could watch you all day, darlin.” He threw back. Now, he may have acted up, but he had never directly flirted. You were shocked when his smooth voice sent your heart into flutters, but you kept your stony expression and walked to him. “You think that’s cute?” You challenged. He stared directly into your eyes as he finished his sip. “Could you focus on our match, please?” You continued. He let out a laugh, “Trust me, if you’re involved, I’m focused.” His words sent another jolt through your chest. You were desperately clinging to your stoicism, but your brain started noticing things. His arms resting on the top rope. His hands wrapped around the cup and the box. His jawline. His eyes. Then, the little shit leaned closer and offered you some popcorn. Your body betrayed you. A soft, quick laugh left your lips and a smile broke across your face. “I did it!” Dean raised his arms in victory, “I made her laugh.” The whole arena cheered with him and you grabbed the popcorn box before he dumped it everywhere. “Ok, you won.” You told him as you sat the popcorn on the ground, “Can we focus now, please?” You stood back up and Dean met you with a huge smile. “One more time.” He begged. You rolled you eyes, but again a smile cut across your face. “We can focus now?” You asked him “Yes ma’am.” He said triumphantly.

Roman Reigns - You loved Roman Reigns and he loved you. That was until the entire relationship blew up in your face. You don’t even remember what the fight was about, but it was nasty and ended with shattered hearts. The two of you hadn’t seen or said a word to each other since. It was actually pretty easy because not long after you broke up, Roman left for WWE. Without him present constantly, it was easy to just suppress your feelings instead of dealing with them. Three years passed and there you were signing a contract with Stephanie McMahon. You had just slid the signed contract back to her when it occurred to you that you might cross paths with him again. Not a big deal. It’s been years, and you’re over it. He doesn’t affect you anymore and you left it at that. Well, until you were told that you were the new member of The Authority. Ok, no big deal. ‘If he wasn’t comfortable with this, he would have told them and it wouldn’t be happening’ - You reassured yourself. He probably doesn’t even care anymore. You did what you always did and ignored the issue. Your music hit, you ran out there, slid into the ring,  and came face to face with him. Your presence stopped him in his tracks, and the same thing happened to you. Looking into his eyes, your heart dropped. You had assumed he knew you were coming and quickly realized he had no clue. You couldn’t move. Outside the ring was pure chaos. Seth and Dean did their best, but they were outnumbered. “Roman!” Seth yelled from the barricade. Roman didn’t move. “Roman, we gotta go!” Dean yelled. With that, he blinked a few times and shook his head before heading to the barricade. Your body was free to move again and you watched as they made their retreat. Roman paused about halfway up the stairs and glanced back, just to make sure it was really you. You wanted to cry. This was a mistake - you thought. You should have been an adult and given him a heads up that you were coming. “I would introduce you all, but I’m sure Roman can do that.” Stephanie mocked from the mic. Her voice made you sick. She walked up beside you and placed an arm around your shoulder. “For those who don’t know, this is Y/n. The hottest free agent, well formerly free, in the business. Oh, and Roman’s ex.” What? You looked at her with confusion. Something had changed. You talked about a lot of things with Stephanie about your role in the show, but your former relationship with Roman had never been discussed. You wouldn’t have agreed had it been, and apparently Steph knew that. “Uh...no..that is not..” You said, but without a mic, no one heard you...except Steph and she ignored it. After the segment was over, you quickly went back to the locker room. That had been the last segment of the night, and most of the talent was gone. You had the room to yourself, until Roman burst through the door. “You think...you can just show up...” He lost his train of thought after seeing you again. “I am so sorry. I had no idea she was going to pull that..” You stumbled out. “Do you have any idea what it’s like having you just appear out of nowhere after three years of nothing?” His voice broke a little bit. “Roman, I’m sorry. I should have told you.” You told him softly. There were so many thoughts and emotions, but neither of you could express them. After a few seconds of silence, he sighed. “We can be professional, right?” You softly nodded and he was gone. Your heart broke. All of those happy times couldn’t end like this. With a wisp of resolve, you walked out the door. He was still in the hallway, walking away. You had enough time. There was no one else there. You could call to him. You could try. Yet, you let him walk around the corner...your voice nowhere to be found.

[notribs]

hello hello ! it is may again and i... am still 20, using she/her, and in the eastern standard timezone. i can’t say that’s changed in the amount of time between intros. anyway, i do want to say that i like this gif because i feel like it.............. is an accurate representation of ribs at........... almost all times.

‹ TREVANTE RHODES, HE/HIM, CIS MAN, BISEXUAL. › DAVID “RIBS” SHAFFER is the TWENTY-EIGHT year old from EMERYVILLE, CA. when a friend asked them what they thought of the manor they said, ❝ IT LOOKS LIKE SOMEWHERE JAMIE LEE WOULD BE LURED INTO. ❞ they claim ANY HORROR MOVIE WITH JAMIE LEE CURTIS IN IT is their favorite scary movie, and if they were to die in a horror film they would EXPLAIN TO THE KILLER THAT THERE WAS NO WAY HE MET THE CRITERIA FOR THE ‘FINAL GIRL’… JUST TO BE KILLED IN THE MIDDLE OF HIS SPEECH. their fears include HALLUCINATING, PARALYZATION and FIREWORKS, and they don’t know we know, but… HE MADE MONEY AS A DEALER WHILE HE WAS STILL WAITING FOR THE BAND TO TAKE OFF. hope they enjoy their stay. ‹ MUSE B from STRESSED OUT. ›

QUICK FACTS:

full name: david “ribs” isaiah shaffer

date of birth: december 1, 1992

*does not perfectly reflect the below Big Three zodiac chart because that’s so much math

zodiac big three: sagittarius sun, capricorn moon, pisces rising

gender & pronouns: cis man & he/him

sexual orientation: bisexual

occupation: drummer + backup songwriter + history of drug dealing

the song i listen to on repeat while i write the intro: “make or break” - bugzy malone

BACKGROUND INFO:

triggers: violence, mentions of drug dealing, very very very brief mention of self-harm (not the product of a mental illness which is why i forgot to include this until i looked at it again this morning - the product of wanting to keep a lie), very very brief mention of guns and fire in the ‘fears’ section

born to a very loving family bc i need a sunnier background hasfkljwas 

david was never EVER academically inclined. he’ll tell you it’s because he just wasn’t interested and was too involved in music and boxing, both of which will be gone over soon, but that wasn’t entirely true. he was also very busy working odd jobs days and nights as a kid and days and nights at successful businesses when he was 16+ (see: papa john’s)

his parents did own a music shop! they were clearly doing their part! but, in the digital era and the era of guitar center, they were only getting so much traction. they were also much too calm about it, at least outwardly, so david felt as though he needed to help.

but it is true that he spent a lot of time practicing music and boxing! as just mentioned, his parents owned a music store and were both very musically inclined. they taught him how to be, at the very least, INTERMEDIATE at as many instruments as possible. he can now confidently say that, if the band ever needed it, he could play the guitar, piano, bass, or saxophone. 

that being said, his instrument of choice was the drums. he began using jazz drummers, as well as various hip-hop beats, as his inspiration. his original inspirations were buddy rich, gene krupa, chico hamilton, art blakey, and the beats of grime and 90s rap.

it shows.

when he ventured into other genres, however, he began taking inspiration from nick mason, john bonham, neil peart, keith moon, ginger baker, karen carpenter, and ringo starr 

(i have a music theory + history lesson for you if you think ringo is a bad drummer ok - he was a “songwriter’s drummer,” which is much more important to being a drummer in a band than being technically skilled or being able to show off with complex patterns and, thus, overshadowing the song. that’s why the beatles continued asking ringo to play the drums on their songs, even after they broke up. john lennon never said “he’s not even the best drummer in the beatles” - a radio dj made that joke and people started taking it literally. love that.)

(also the same goes for nick mason but his drumming is rly only brought up when he’s brought up since pink floyd isn’t as talked about as the beatles)

ALSO!!! i have decided to be passionate about karen carpenter because girl won a 1975 poll that pit her against john bonham for best drummer and he got so mad and said she couldn’t last ten minutes with led zeppelin. the following is just alleged, but oh my god i hope it’s true: then she proceeded to compliment his drumming, say that she thinks it’s all very subjective, then got behind her set and played “babe i’m gonna leave you” while singing and not missing a single note. we have decided to stan forever.

he also took up boxing. as a kid, he was just practicing and taking any excess frustration out. when he turned 14, however, he found an opportunity in an underground circuit. he started fighting against other people, for real, and would be paid if he won the fight.

so: school from 8a-3p, drum practice from 3:30p-7:30p (i know), family from 8p-10p, boxing from 11p-2a.

his parents knew he boxed, but didn’t know it was as dangerous as it was. they assumed there were more safeguards in place..... but boy was bringing in a LOT of money for there to be a lot of safeguards in place. because of this, david NEVER let them see his matches.

when he was 16, he’d broken his ribs during one of the fights and refused to see a doctor over it. what did he say happened when his parents could TELL something was wrong? he said that he’d been mugged and beaten up. to support this theory, before he ‘showed’ it to them, he dug into himself with a knife to make it look like the muggers had a switchblade.

from there on out, he made everyone call him “ribs”

did his parents ever wonder where his excess income was coming from? DEFINITELY. he told them that, yes, his MINIATURE matches did bring in some money, but the rest of the money came from tips!! because people are clearly that generous!!

he also never showed them the full amount. he’d only give what was necessary, not out of selfishness, rather to keep his secret and save them from worrying about him. he put it in a savings account.

it should also be addressed that, during this time, he became friends with who would become the guitarist in his future band, joakim. he witnessed joakim fight a homophobic teenager and desperately wanted to join in... but his ribs were broken ahflskd

he continued boxing, even after being introduced to joakim’s college friend, gabe - the future singer of their band. that being said, they began jamming with each other and played in a few local circuits.

his parents were very encouraging of this and told him that he should go for this as a career opportunity. 

can you tell they were idealists?

he wanted to... but it was very impractical. by now, however, he was out of school (and he never went to college). his parents let him continue living with them since they were under the belief they were short on cash and it’d be difficult for him to find an affordable apartment under the papa john’s salary.

he decided to take his parents up on this... but, while he was waiting for his band to find success, their music store was closed down. as they both began looking desperately for new jobs, he realized that papa john’s and the fighting payment wasn’t quite enough anymore... so he started selling drugs.

he doesn’t keep his fighting a secret anymore, but he does keep his drug dealing a secret. he fears that it’ll perpetuate stereotypes.

during one of his band’s gigs, he and the others met their future bassist - the missing piece - rory. she was marginally younger than they were, but she was an extremely talented bassist and songwriter, so the lineup was finally complete and devil’s wine was formed.

when they began skyrocketing, he quit drug dealing. he also stopped the dangerous boxing, although he continues to... box safely. he began sending money back home after they really started succeeding. his mother got a teacher licensure in music and his father got the opportunity to own..... a guitar center.

if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.

VERY IMPORTANT: uses a pearl custom kit, istanbul cymbals, aquarian heads, and vic firth sticks.

that was very important.

PERSONALITY INFO:

literally obsessed with jamie lee curtis. watching her movies has also made him very genre-savvy. 

would genuinely die for her.

is the epitome of bob belcher’s “oh my god.” in his band. they get off topic during practice/recording just ONCE?? queue “oh my god.” and the gif above.

isn’t necessarily ashamed of his past dealings (literally) - like, joakim knows - but is genuinely afraid of perpetuating the stereotype of the dirty black boy. he’s open about the rest of his life, but he’s convinced that if people learn he used to sell drugs, he would be setting people back. having a black drummer in a rock band that’s on the radio? he needs to keep up appearances!!

never wears shirts during concerts. has to show off his ribs and also drumming, with a bunch of lights directly on him, is an extreme exercise and guaranteed sweat machine. dresses like bugzy malone otherwise.

ahflskjd again,,, like adrian,,, look @ his chart ig alhkfjd

FEARS:

hallucinating: he hates not only the idea of losing his mind, but also the idea of having a skewed view of reality after he really... saw reality, you know? his uncle had schizophrenia and, while he rarely saw him, the thought of going through what his uncle had/has to go through terrifies him.

paralyzation: this was a constant worry of his during his boxing matches - he was terrified someone would wind up taking out a firearm and would shoot him into a state of paralysis. not to mention, all limbs are required for both drumming and boxing.... so.

fireworks: less deep than the others. the house next door to his was set on fire due to a firework display being too close. while no one died and most of the house was salvaged, the idea of losing anything he has is terrifying to him. also the sounds they make remind him of guns so?

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

ok,,, so unlike adrian,,, he lived in california,,, a state many other characters lived in. while some cities in california can be like,,,, seven hours away,,, IT’S STILL AN IMPROVEMENT, so i’ll list a few past connection ideas too!

fans

people who hate his music

people who’ve seen one of his matches

old friends

someone who was constantly in his parents’ music store

exes

fwb

ons

???? im bad at connections!!!!!! but im down for brainstorming and/or working off of urs!!!!!!

[ain-t-bovvered]

14x17 Commentary

Zeta and Giuls scream together, and then die.

@purpleskiesandcherrypies and @dean-winchesters-bacon won’t be joining us for this one. 

Me & Zeta will watch together season 14′s episodes as they come out and we’ll do our commentary while watching.

+MASTERLIST of season 14 commentary * 

Giulia: Yo i’m sad he ded tho

Giulia: But is he?

Giulia: YAAA sis Jo

Zee: Ouch

Giulia: Oh go fuck u nick

Giulia: You can burn. I want to use that

Zee: Ded

Giulia: REJECT HIM

Zee: Donnie

Giulia: nick such a drama queen, like his fucking brother. gasps, Lucifer/Nick is Hamlet.

Giulia: Donny babe

Zee: Stabby stabby

Giulia: Shish kebab teenagers

[14x17 Game Night ]

♪ Raindrops keep fallin' on my head ♪

Giulia: Love that song

Giulia: God I love him. IF THEY TOUCH A HAIR ON HIM

Zee: Fucking hell

Giulia: DON T TOUCH HIIIIM

Zee: Seriously ??!!!

Annoyed Dean tho

Oh look at the son of Satan without a soul making pop-corns

Zee: Mary?

Giulia: Yeah well she still exists

Zee: Why again?

D:  SON OF A BITCH!!

Classic Dean

J: I thought this was supposed to relax him.

M: You know, this was his favorite game when he was little.

me: *imagining little Dean playing the game exactly the same and with a high pitched voice: Son of a bitch*  good visual.

J: Everybody keeps asking me that.

Giulia: We aRe FamIlY

J: Well, it’s annoying

Mary: 

Giulia: It is

Zee: Did she eye roll?

M: if you ever want to talk or...vent...

J :You're here. I know.

J thinking: I just wanna eat my pop corns and play stupid game, can I fucking live?

Giulia: Winchester game night

D: All right. Winchester game night is a go  soon as Sammy gets back here with the two double-pepperoni meat blasters AND

Zee: Pineapple. A crime against humanity

Giulia&Jack : I like it

Dean: why have you forsaken me, son

D: Yeah, it's like a crime against humanity.

Me quoting [ X ]  

Zee: SEE????

Giulia: Was that enochian?

Zee: I think

Giulia: IT’S BABE TIME

Look how cute he is.... SO CUTE , SO CUUUUTE

Zee: Knew it Was waiting for it

Anael: wow this place is so ...

Giulia: U MEAN  CUTE JO

Giulia: Omg he has pancakes

Zee: Doesn’t eat them

Giulia:HE’S BEING POLITE OK. Oh look a that they have cream and strawberry *sobs* I’m hungry

A: Well, you said you had something for me.

Castiel sliding a jewlery box.

me [heart attack]

A: 16th-century Burmese blood rubies.

LOOK AT THAT CUTE SMILE 

A:  Five carats. Excellent clarity. Castiel,where did you get these?

Zee: Lightly cursed

C: I need your help. To contact God.

Giulia: Oh honey no

Zee: I just laughed along with jo

- um so Anael was Joshua right hand? so she wasn’t that useless angel afterall. 

Giulia: Joshua is dead?

C: Jack killed Michael.

Giulia&Zee: Good night sweet prince

C: Only God can restore a soul.

ISN’T THAT A BOTHER 

A: The Winchesters -- they don't know you're here, do they?

Giulia: Of course they don t

Zee: Squint

C: Why do you say that?

A: Oh, I don't know, just a general reek of ill-conceived lone-wolf desperation.

Giulia&Zee: Lone wolf desperation

*Cas looks into the camera like in the office*

C: will you help me or not?

A: Not

C *smirking* : I see

A: BUT

Giulia: She s me

Zee: Mental grabby hands

S: It's not Enochian. I-I-I think it's Ancient Hebrew.

Sammy says it’s not Enochian

Zee: It’s not enochian then

Giulia: Oh WeLl AncIenT HeBreW

D: well Sammy sounds stressed

WHAT’S NEW THO

M: I just wish there was something that I c--

D:Hey. You're here, okay? You're here.

Giulia: Mary is here everyone!  Everything is fine

Zee: Chuck I hate her

M: But I should've been here more. But I know how I am. I can be closed off...and hard.

D: Yeah, well, that's where I get it from.

Giulia: OH NO No he definitely doesn’t

Giulia: Dean is always there. Mary just fucks off somewhere

M: I just need you to know... I'm grateful. For every day I get to spend with you and Sam.

Giulia: Listen- I’ve been on this show long enough to know that when someone starts to talk like that it’s bad news-

S: I know this.

Giulia: What the fuck is sam brain made off

Zee: Good question

S: It's from the Bible. It's -- it's Peter. Peter 5:8.

"Be sober, be vigilant, because your adversary the Devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour."

Well that sounds NICE

Zee: Trap?

Giulia: Oh come on

Zee: Trap

[enters Nick with an apron]

Giulia: OH FUCK YOU

N: What, no "hey"? "How ya been"?

Giulia: No fuck off nick

D: How?

N: Instead of rotting away in a jail cell where you left me?

N: Sort of a funny story... and by "funny," I mean a lot of people died.

Giulia: Can they just kill him

Giulia: Dean just kill him

Zee: Valid question

Giulia: Mary can you be useful and just kill the bitch

N: I mean, I sort of injected your friend with poison --

Giulia: Poor Donny

D: Where is he?!

N: Ooh, the angry voice.

Zee: Oh ok

Giulia: Yeees the angry voice

Giulia: I. Don’t. Like. Cas. Doing. Stuff. Alone.

A:Even for us Methuselah?  You sheltered him after the Fall.

Methy: I didn't "shelter" -- We were roommates.

Giulia: OMG THEY WERE ROOMMATES

Methy: He made a mean lasagna

Zee: Loool

C: No. You'll tell me, or I'll burn this place to the ground. and you with it.

Giulia: *Shivers* yeeees

Zee: Kiddo

C: Is that really what you want?

Giulia: SHIVERS *YEEEEEEES*

OK BUT YOU GOTTA LOVE THE SLOW MOTION THO

Giulia: oh Sam baby

Giulia: YES

Giulia: YEEES

D: Whoa! Hey. Hey! Not now. Okay?

D: not yet

Stellar content

Giulia: Let Sam kill that bitch

Zee: Let someone kill him

D: I don't know. If you ask me, that psycho's seen way too many '90s serial-killer movies.

S: The antidote is Prussian Blue

Giulia: *raising hand* Knew that

D: He said he wanted to talk. So let's talk.

Giulia&Zee: Oooh yeah let’s talk

Giulia: I’m sam

Sam’s like “ but Deeeeeean I wanna smash”

D: if Nick looks at you wrong, you're gonna waste him.

LET HIIIIIM

Giulia: Who cut Jared ‘s hair

Giulia: I dont like it

Zee: I need season 8 hair

S: Donatello's in this because of me. A police officer is dead because of me. I'm the one who let Nick go, I'm the one who...

please babe ....can someone just hold him

M: Nick's choices are his. Just his.

M: You gave him a chance because you felt for him.....because you're a good man.

Giulia: Oh look at him being all cute when mary called him a good man

M: You are. It's one of the reasons I'm so proud of you.

Anael complainig about the dust while she’s an angel.

Giulia: LOL SHE S ME

ALSO WE ALL KNOW THAT DANNEEL LOVES CREEPY DOLLS

A: God's not gonna care.

Giulia: das true

A: I believed in Heaven. You know, our mission. I believed, Castiel. But then I got to Earth, and I saw that it wasn't the paradise God promised. I mean, there was so much hate...so much suffering.

A: Why wasn't he helping them? And do you know what he said?

A: "God doesn't meddle."

Zee: Doesn’t meddle

Giulia: Das also true

A: Well, I do. So I do.

C: And here I thought you just performed miracles for the money.

A: Well, you haven't been paying attention, then. I do them for me. I don't need Heaven. And I don't need God. And... I'm happy, Castiel.

LISTEN - I STAN ANAEL

C: Really? Because that sounds lonely.

Zee: We’re all lonely

A: because we're all alone. From ant to lion to human to angel. Every last one of us.

Giulia: SHE S ME

C: God reached down, and he brought me back to life.

A: So he saves one angel...and watches millions of people die screaming, every day. What does that say about him?

Giulia *sweats* : But he saves THE angel ok

Zee: Ouch

D: Where’s Donatello?

Giulia: That’s the content I want

N: I get you, Dean. You and me,we're almost like brothers, you know. Michael, you,Lucifer, me --

Giulia: NOT LIKE THIS

N: we both know what it's like to be hog-tied to a nuclear warhead, man.

Giulia: OH NOPE

Giulia: NICE

D: Cut the crap

N: You're never the same after something like that, are ya? Being one with one of them. It changes you. Makes you more than human. Come on, Dean, admit it. With Michael, you were a prince. Now you're just a broken Hunter.

Giulia: Another one

Zee: Demon dean vibes

Giulia: But also MoC tho

Giulia: So much demon dean

D: Come on, Nick. What's this all about?

D: He says he wants to talk to Jack...alone.

Giulia: His friggin’ cocoa puffs

Giulia: I don t like jack and nick alone Especially jack with no soul. Because let’s be real, he has so little of it ok

j: Sam?

S: I mean-

D: "I mean"? What do you mean, you mean

S: How's he even a threat?

Me: mmmm *opening big ass folder* where do I start?

Zee: Of course. He went there

N: Even your three dads -- how many innocent people you think they've killed?

Zee: Even your three dads

Giulia: Threee dads

Giulia: You broke his heart

N: I don't know. I don't -- I don't see it. I'm looking right at you, and I see nothing.

Zee: I see nothing

Giulia: Don t like that. Mmm mmm nope

Zee: Wth?

Giulia: He killed him

N: Nick. He'll show us where to find Donatello.

oh...he did not kill him. oh bother

Zee: I’m done

Giulia: We ve been knew

A: Look, I just stepped on a rat, so --

Giulia: My babe

Zee: Say it like you  mean it tho

A: You're doing this because you're afraid. Because in your mind, it'd be easier to call God than to tell Sam and Dean Winchester the truth.

C: The truth?

A: Jack's soul is gone, Castiel. And there's nothing you can do about it.

i hate this

A: Look. I don't want to say all that and hurt your feelings, so...what do you say we call it a night?

HI YES I’M WRECKED BY CAS FACE RIGHT NOW, DON’T TOUCH ME

Giulia: Oh he lives

Giulia: OOOOH THAT THAAAAT

Zee: Fuck

Giulia: CRIES

Giulia: tell me he gives it to dean tho

Zee: He has to

Giulia:...OH wait that’s not the same tho , meh

C: God...I don't know where you are. I don't know if you can hear me. But please. Sam, Dean -- we need you. Please.

Giulia: My heart .Cas broken voice

Giulia: Sigh

Giulia: Sob

Giulia: Cries

D: Look, you try anything funny, Sammy's gonna shoot you. Anything happens to me -- 

N: Wait. Let me guess. Sammy's gonna shoot me.

Giulia: Yeah to start

Giulia: It’s been swell

A: So, what are you gonna do now?

C: Go home.

Giulia: The bunker is his Hoooomeee

C: Go home and tell Sam and Dean the truth.

Zee: Can I have the bag?

C: Anael. You know, you're not <i>always</i> right. Just because God's not with us doesn't mean we're alone.

A:  Why? Because we all have each other?

C: Yes.

Giulia: SO CUTE

J: This was filled with angelic grace.

Zee: Can’t word. Sam needs to punch him

♪ Oh, Sammy boy, Sammy boy ♪

Giulia: Oh no Nick singing. Ptsd flashbacks from the crazy sam ♪ Your phone, your phone is calling ♪

Nick doing disgusting things

Giulia: OH WHAT THE FUCK

Zee: Cb radio. He’s awake

S: Y-You trying to communicate with someone?

N: Search your feelings.  Come on, Sam. Nobody stays dead anymore.

Giulia: fucking nick

Giulia: Fucking demons

Zee: Holy crap

Giulia: YES SAM. YES

Giulia: OH COME ON

Zee: Damn nick

Giulia: stop hitting sam’s head

Giulia: Fuck u nick

Giulia: DEAN is so calm and collected tho. MOC baby. I mean...look at his face while he’s kicking those demon’s asses. That looks way too cold ok. I don’t like it.

Zee: That final push. That’s what I saw on tumblr

Giulia: They need to stop hitting sam in the head

Giulia: DAMN IT NICK. i have 0 empathy for that bitch now. 0

Giulia: Oh come on. Fuck. Fuuuuck

Giulia: NO. MARY NO. FUCK

Zee: Jfc

Giulia: JESUS

Zee: Hell-o

Giulia: Again with the chicken wings

Giulia: OH THANK GOD

Giulia: OUCH  but also YES and also NO

Giulia: Oh yeah Jack is definitely going in that box

Zee: He ded?

Giulia: I sure hope so

D: Hey. Hey. Come on. Stay with me now. We're just gonna play a little game.

D: We're gonna count, okay? We're gonna count.

D: Count with me. One.. two...

S: ...two...

D: Yeah, there you go...three.

S: You -- You always put -- You always put me first.

D:No, no. Shh, shh. Come on. Come on, man.

Giulia: IM SCARED STOP IT

S: Your whole life...

D: Okay. All right. All right. Come on. Come on. Just count with me.

D: Sammy. Hey! Sam!

Zee: Wtf is going on?

J: Mary? I had to.

M: Sam -- Uh, he's hurt. Help him.

Giulia: YEAH OK THANK

Oh god Dean’s face. MEDIC MEDIC HELP

Giulia: oh poor Dean. I NEED A FUCKING MEDIC 

Zee: They should stop scaring people

J: Everything's gonna be fine.

Giulia: SAYS NO ONE EVER ON SPN WITHOUT CONSEQUENCES

Giulia: i don t like mary face

Zee: Is she scared of jack?

Giulia: She right to be But she shouldn’t be like that in front of him

J: Tell me it's okay.

M: It’s not

J: Leave me alone X9

Giulia: Can she just shut up. i mean she’s not wrong. But she should shut up

Giulia: ...SEE THEN THIS HAPPENS

Giulia: Oh

Giulia: Nope

Giulia: Dont like this

[after episode]

Giulia: PROMO

Zee: Fuck

Giulia: I HATE IT

Zee: Did Dean just tell Cas that he failed him??!!!

Giulia: No cas said that , fucking Dean said : you are dead to me

Giulia: WHICH IS WAY WORSE

Zee: Yeah that

Giulia: AND MY HEART HURTS

Zee: Can’t type

Giulia: I WANNA CRY AND I’M ANGRY AT DEAN

Giulia: i didn’t need to see that

Giulia: I can’t hear anything else

Giulia: I can’t unhear that

.

.

.SO IS NEXT THURSDAY ALREADY CANCELLED?

BECAUSE FOR ME IT IS I DON’T GIVE A SHIT . 

.                

.

FUCK YOU DEAN , FUCK YOU.

.

.

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