#anyway. i've been taking lots of fancy shots and cleaning them up so there WILL be a post showcasing his Vigil era

[valiant-portabella-pirkko]

this guy just made a mentor proud of him for the first time in his life and he is trying SO HARD to be normal about it

(guess who's been playing personal story on a tiny rat lately...)

[freebooter4ever]

ok i've been taking a break for the past half hour and doing research on the pens locker room, trying to figure out how i wanted to design my own version of geno's 'stall' (is that what it's called?). i love the circular shape it feels very king arthur

first, there isn't a lot of internet documented history on the various eras of the locker room design??? which seems sad

don't get me wrong the latest iteration is pretty epic but as far is i can tell, it hasn't changed much since at least 2013? i do not envy whoever is cleaning this place. thats a lot of sweat over the years.

second, im enjoying seeing little details that i had no idea existed, being a new fan and all. like the puck wins count???? crazy. these guys have a visual representation of how they're doing in the season right up there on the wall glaring judgmentally at them? im so glad im not in sports. i would not survive.

especially when the HISTORY of these pucks is on the walls.....like damn. talk about pressure. anyway 2011-2012 thats one of geno's best seasons right? :)

this is what I wanted. mesh, hooks, I need to figure out how i want to make this look cool.

i find it really funny and endearing that the thing these guys do to relax in down time is a playful version of their own job....

also im not sure about this like:

are they assigned a razor??? you get traded to the penguins and suddenly you're not allowed to use your fancy expensive specialized razor? is this a normal thing in hockey????? do they have group shaves for special events like the playoffs? hockey players are fascinating.

i dont know why but i never considered that the pens have actual lockers in addition to the little seats in the main locker room. this makes total sense. i dont know where i thought their clothes and stuff went. just disappeared into the ether i guess.

anyway definitely a necessity, the hot tub. it looks a little sad and lonely in this photo. it needs a hockey player in it.

racks and racks of gear???? again this makes total sense but never occurred to me. also maybe helps explain why geno likes to switch up gloves, look at all them, damn. i do wonder about helmets still - geno's looks so unique and he's been using the same design since at least 2009.

ok im guessing this is an away locker room and i have only one question: do they bring a little 'logo' carpet to roll out every time they go on the road? thats amazing.

if you read all that, nice! here's a shot of geno with his jock out:

very important locker room research. bonus the earliest pens locker room photo of geno i could find:

shy beautiful boy ^_^ (also he looks so young and vulnerable its hard to believe that even back in 2008/2009 he already had so much responsibility with so many grown adults making demands on his entire career)(like he went through all that AND is still playing in the league with three cups under his belt? thats fucking awesome)

[seattlesolace]

you've got me wrapped around your little finger // jay (ENHYPEN)

pairing: jay x fem!reader

summary: you and Jay have been friends forever, and it took you one slow dance, and a couple glasses of wine, to finally realize that you might have harbored feelings of love for him.

genre: fluff, suggestive // trope: friends to lovers // warning: suggestive themes towards the end, hyung-line make an appearance in texts, mentions of being drunk

word count: ~1.8k

author's note: this account is in need of an update, so have this little treat! I might be making more of these little one-shots based on old songs since I already have a whole playlist...

if you feel like this one feels a little different than my other works, it's because this is an old fic that I edited. I made this one maybe in 2016? for a different kpop idol. I've been thinking of reusing/recycling my old fics so I can post them to my accounts, and I hope you don't mind! (the fics haven't been posted elsewhere, so in a way I really am releasing it for the first time)

the song for this fic is this version by Beth Rowley, specifically this version. it's an OST for the movie An Education, but that's totally unrelated.

anyway, hope you enjoy this one!

The lights shone on the wet pavement as the car halted to a stop. The heavy rain that poured down for more than two hours was still persistent making the whole earth soaking wet. You opened the car door with a blazer over your head.

“Thank you, Sir! Jay, quickly!”

Another figure hopped off the car, not forgetting to thank the driver and closing the door shut. Jay took a side and held the blazer with you, running towards the porch of your apartment.

“Your poor jacket,” you said once you were inside. You gave the blazer some pats, attempting to clean it from water droplets.

“It’s fine. It’s not like it’s Armani,” Jay checked his reflection in the mirror beside the doorway, ruffling his hair.

You squinted. “It’s not? It’s really good quality.”

“It’s H&M. Do you really think I would wear an expensive suit to a party with a lot of careless people who can spill wine on you anytime?” Jay took the blazer from you and gave it a good shake. “This will do.”

“Thank God we are dressed up enough for the Uber guy to take us in and not scold us for being in the rain, right?” You climbed up the stairs with Jay following you from behind.

Jay nodded. “If I were wearing my usual clothes I don’t think he’d let us in. He’ll probably think I’m homeless.”

“I would disagree,” you murmured.

“Sorry?”

“I’m starving,” you said, grinning awkwardly.

“Then hurry up and get us inside your apartment and I’ll fix you something up,” Jay nudged you so you can move faster. You struggled with the keys before finally opening the door.

“My good man,” you said, inviting Jay in. Jay walked past you while blowing your bangs. You shrieked a little and quickly fixed your hair.

Jay hung his blazer on the coat hanger by the door and threw himself on the sofa. You waddled and sat down beside him, bending over to take off your high heels.

“No wonder you looked so tall,” Jay peered over at your shoes. “You could literally sprain your ankle if you trip while wearing those, right?”

“Please don’t say stuff that will make me dread wearing heels,” you sighed. “Beauty is pain. High heels look nice. I will sacrifice and put myself in pain in order to look nice.”

Jay nodded. “It does accentuate your legs—OUCH!”

You had slapped Jay's forearm before he could even finish his sentence. Jay chuckled and went on.

“I don’t even know why I decided to go to such a fancy party like that,” Jay leaned on the sofa and stared at the ceiling. “And to bring you with me.”

You made an ugly noise. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I thought I’d be bringing one of the guys, but they were all busy—“

“So I’m your backup plan.”

“No, what I meant was—“

“You regret taking me?”

“Can you let me finish?” Jay threw a death stare which made you zip up and continued to listen. “The party was pretty boring. I should have taken to you somewhere more fun.”

You nodded. “Which is why we’re back home early. I feel bad, though. I bought this pretty dress and I only got to wear it for an hour.”

You and Jay continued to stare at the ceiling.

“We left so early that we didn’t even get to the dance part,” Jay sighed and ruffled his hair. You turned your head to look at him.

“What were you expecting?”

“A dance with you, of course,” Jay still had his eyes glued to the ceiling. Your eyebrows furrowed.

“You know I can’t dance,” you said as you sat up and stretched out your arms.

Jay stood up and walked over to your laptop that was on the desk, open and untouched. He typed and clicked here and there and suddenly the sound system in your room turned on, playing Beth Rowley’s You’ve Got Me Wrapped Around Your Little Finger.

“Good choice,” you mumbled as you started to close your eyes. Jay walked over to you and reached out his hand. “What?” you asked nonchalantly.

“Dance with me,” Jay’s voice was stern and he looked serious. You laughed.

“I will if I’m drunk,” you refused before you went back to close your eyes. Jay set the song on repeat and walked over to the kitchen. After spending so much time looking around, you just had to finally ask.

“What are you doing?”

“You have wine, don’t you?” Jay opened the kitchen counters one by one. “If drinking will make you dance then let’s open one.”

You stood up, kicked away your high heels, and waddled over to where Jay was. You tiptoed a bit to reach the top kitchen counter and pulled out a bottle of wine.

“That looks too fancy,” said Jay, checking the bottle out. “Isn’t there a cheaper one?”

You shook your head. “It’s my only bottle.”

Jay scrunched his nose, unsure. “And you’re willing to open it?”

“Might as well,” you shrugged. Jay grabbed the corkscrew laying on the counter and skillfully popped open the bottle. You were subtly impressed.

“I don’t have proper wine glasses,” you peered into the drawers where you kept your mugs. “These will do, I guess.”

Jay looked at the Ryan-shaped mug and the Cony glass that you took out. He burst out laughing while pointing at the Ryan mug.

“I know someone who would love this,” he said as he poured the wine into it. You decided to keep quiet about how it was your ex-boyfriend who gave it to you as a random gift.

After pouring the wine and clinking your mugs together, and two to three more mugs later, you were already tipsy. Jay was still looking sober, and he wouldn’t shut up about how your tolerance was so low.

Your laptop then died of low battery about two glasses ago. Jay set his empty mug on the coffee table and plugged in your laptop to play the same song again. As the intro played, he walked over to you and reached out his hand one more time.

“Fine,” you sighed. “But I’m bringing this,” you raised your mug, still half full. Jay shrugged and pulled you up from the sofa.

You've got me wrapped around your little finger If this is love, it's everything I hoped it would be You've got me wrapped around your little finger You will see, by my words just how much you mean to me

Jay was fully aware of how unskilled you were at dancing, so he kept it lowkey and just took you for a slow dance. You had one hand around Jay's neck, the other close to your chest, still holding the mug. Jay placed both his hand’s comfortably around your waist.

“Is this dancing?” you asked. Your voice was starting to become hoarse. Jay wasn’t sure if it was the wine or just you being tired, but you sounded a thousand times more attractive.

You look a thousand times more attractive too, he thought.

“For you, I think you could get away with calling this slow dancing. I’m just worried you might break something if I spin you around.”

With that being said, you spontaneously spun yourself around and landed back into Jay's embrace. He laughed wholeheartedly.

“Wasn’t expecting you to do that,” he said. “Spin again.”

This time Jay took the mug out of your hand and hold your other hand to properly help you turn. Your flushed cheeks became even redder with your laughter.

When we kiss, it's as if our lips agree that we were meant to be When we touch, it's too much Oh the sparks that fly, are lighting up the sky

The song continued and you were already dizzy from spinning just two times. Jay decided it was best not to give your mug back. After mumbling-complaining for a while, you gave up and went back to slow dancing.

Both of you weren’t really paying attention to the lyrics, but somewhere along the song your eyes locked. Without blinking, you moved your head closer so that your nose touched Jay's. There was a brief silence before Jay finally closed the distance between your lips and you shared your very first kiss ever. Sweet, sour from the wine, and definitely warm.

You gasped and broke the kiss as you felt liquid seeping through your dress. Jay pulled back. His eyes widened at the huge red stain starting to form on your precious new dress.

“Jay…”

“I am so sorry, do you want me to—“

“Leave it to someone sober to spill wine on you, huh?” you gave Jay a little punch as you chuckled. Jay's face was already pale from the paranoia of being scolded by you. Especially after a kiss.

“I’m gonna go clean this up,” you said, swiftly making your way to the bathroom. When Jay wasn’t looking, you grabbed your phone and rushed away.

---

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” you whispered as you looked at yourself in the mirror, cheeks still flushed and red. Either from the wine, or the kiss. Or both.

You unlocked your phone and opened the group chat with your two friends, which already had 145 unread chats.

You: MAYDAY Isa: there she is Yoon: we were wondering where you were You: Jay and I just kissed

Isa and Yoon both started typing at the same time.

Isa: WHAT????? Yoon: YOU DID NOT! Isa: HOW WAS IT Isa: TELL US EVERYTHING Isa: SPILL IT Yoon: UNNIE YOU DID NOT!

After spending a couple of minutes too long, you heard a knock on the door.

“Are you okay in there?” asked Jay from the other side.

“I’m okay,” you shouted back. “The stain is just too hard to remove.”

Not hearing a reply, you went back to the chat. “Maybe I shouldn’t have?” you asked.

Isa: hey, the heart wants what the heart wants Yoon: we’re in no place to judge but you go, unnie!

Meanwhile, Jay took the time to check on his own group chat with his boys. He announced the same thing and all three of his friends freaked out.

Sunghoon: You finally did? Jake: How was it? Heeseung: Tongue?

Jay had to tell the boys to chill before explaining and finally ending his rant with a simple “I should have kissed her sooner.”

He didn’t have a chance to reply to the responses since you suddenly came out of the bathroom, helplessly walking back to the couch with the red stain on your dress only faintly cleaned.

Jay slipped his phone into his pockets real quick while you left yours in the bathroom. You both exchanged a silent, long, but meaningful glance at each other. Jay had to break the ice.

“I guess you have to take it to the laundry then?”

You smiled awkwardly. “Yeah.”

You both shifted your gaze somewhere else before looking at each other again. The song was still on repeat.

“Do you… want to…”

“Dance again?” you cut him off. Jay wasn’t quick enough to offer his hand because you instantly wrapped yours around his neck again. With a smile, Jay moved closer until your foreheads touched.

If this is love, it's everything that i've been dreaming of

-END-

© seattlesolace 2023, all rights reserved

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[cloudwhisper23]

Ngl, I think I may've overdone the first few days of Grumbo Month. But that's completely fine! I've been having tons of fun with the event put on by @grow-bettah, even if I'm not entirely matching the prompts the way I should, lol.

Hope you enjoy!

Day 9: Sick Character

The cold wind was really starting to get unpleasant. Still, Grian continued on, building the bridges to connect the floating rocks that made up his base with the same patience he’d done before. If it had been the back of the base, Grian would not have bothered with it in this uncomfortable weather.

But as the base was facing Mumbo’s vault, he couldn’t just stop, not when Mumbo was also out still working on his own base. The color palette was lovely. Grian could safely say he was a fan of the design choice Mumbo had decided on.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Grian planted moss along the edge of his pathways. It was meant to look like a ruin, but he had to build the completed structure first. He already planned to just let the weather destroy it in some places. Moss was just the next step up from that.

When it started raining, Grian quickly built a layer of shelter for the bridge. He wasn’t ready for it to start wearing away just yet.

Satisfied that the rain wouldn’t hurt his build, Grian ducked inside to wait for it to pass.

He hadn’t been out in the rain very long. That’s what he told himself as he sneezed and nearly fell off the boulder. He wasn’t getting sick, surely.

The ground seemed a lot further away today. Grian squinted down, feeling dizzy as the grass swayed in the wind. He forced himself to look away from the edge, regardless of the fact that he couldn’t manage to focus on the build anymore.

Grian glanced down toward Mumbo’s vault. Water dripped from every surface, and Grian knew that door hadn’t opened since the storm.

Knowing full well he wasn’t going to get any more work done today anyway, Grian flew down, landing in front of the vault door. Technically, this didn’t count as breaking in, since he was here to see Mumbo.

Experimentally, Grian pushed one of the buttons along the side of the vault. Nothing happened. He pressed another button. Nothing happened. Grian started going down the line, pressing every button on the outside of Mumbo’s base in hopes that something would happen.

“Come on, Mumbo. You can’t just cover your base in buttons and not have any of them do anything!” Grian muttered as he made it back to the front.

The last button he pressed activated redstone. Grian scanned his surroundings, looking for where the piston had activated. A flash of color shot into his vision and then right back out again.

“Wait…” Grian pushed the button again and watched where he’d seen the movement. “Uh huh…”

For the third time, Grian pushed the button before positioning himself in the right spot for the piston to propel him into Mumbo’s base.

“Fancy,” Grian said to himself as he studied the interior of Mumbo’s vault.

Chests stacked to the ceiling on all sides, presumably part of Mumbo’s storage system. Grian stood motionless, trying to take in all the little details, but like before, his vision blurred, and he swayed on his feet.

He sneezed again, completely losing his balance. Grian crashed into the chests, knocking the top ones off the stack on top of him.

“What on earth…? Grian! What are you up to?” Mumbo appeared from somewhere, lifting the chests back to their stack. “Oh, what a mess.”

“Sorry, Mumbo.” Grian tried to stand up, but Mumbo pushed him back down.

“Give me a moment to clean this up. I think there’s some broken glass in here.” Mumbo carefully cleaned up the mess of items before helping Grian to his feet. “Right then. What were you doing?”

“I just came to see you. Didn’t mean to make a mess.”

Mumbo’s mustache twitched. “I’m sure.”

Grian’s wing flicked irritably. “It’s the truth. Take it or leave it, Jumbolio.”

Mumbo blinked at him. “If you say so. I’m going to get back to my project-“

“Can I watch?” Grian asked.

“You can’t make fun of me,” Mumbo warned. “I’m trying to build.”

“Won’t make fun of you. I promise.” Grian’s expression was very serious as he looked up into Mumbo’s face. “Cross my heart. I will not make fun of your building skills. I won’t even say anything unless you ask me a question.”

“Right then.” Mumbo cleared his throat, looking away from Grian with the faintest hint of color crossing his face. “Erm. You can follow me, then.”

Grian sat quietly, watching Mumbo build as exhaustion pricked at his consciousness. He pulled his bow out after a while, killing mobs as Mumbo continued to work well into the night. Eventually, Mumbo looked up at the sky, realizing the time.

“You didn’t tell me it was past midnight, Grian!”

“I promised not to say anything, remember?” Grian managed to grin even as he yawned. “Can’t interrupt the process. You were in the zone.”

“I- Yeah…” Mumbo looped an arm under Grian’s shoulders. “Come on then. I’m taking you home.”

“I don’t need to go to bed,” Grian tried to protest, even as Mumbo hooked his other arm beneath Grian’s legs, effectively removing him from the ground. “I am fine!”

“You are pale, exhausted, and to be quite honest, mate, you sound sick.”

“I’m not sick,” Grian replied, sulking slightly as he had to grip Mumbo’s suit jacket. “I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Mumbo.”

“I’m sure you are. But just because you can doesn’t mean you will.”

Grian didn’t have the strength to argue against that. His eyes fell closed as Mumbo launched them both into the air.

Maybe he was a bit tired after all.

“Grian.” Mumbo jostled him slightly.

Grian grumbled something and buried his face in Mumbo’s suit jacket, not loosening his grip like Mumbo had hoped. Mumbo sighed, taking a seat on Grian’s bed.

It was a bit funny, thinking about it. Usually, Mumbo was the one who’d randomly wake up somewhere he did not remember falling asleep. And Grian would be there, sword in hand, watching over him.

This was a bit different though. Grian hadn’t passed out in a random field somewhere, he’d fallen asleep in Mumbo’s arms right after saying he wasn’t tired. There was no need for Mumbo to stick around, really. It was just a matter of getting Grian’s talons out of his shirt, and he’d be free to go.

Except, Mumbo didn’t really want to leave. He wanted to be here to watch Grian blink sleepily in the morning, wondering where he was. And not just to tease him either.

I must be going mad, Mumbo thought to himself. He shook his head. No, he needed to leave Grian to rest in his own bed. If he could get the avian to let go of him, that was.

He’s awfully warm for an avian, Mumbo considered after more gentle prodding. And he’s shivering anyway.

Resolving that he very clearly was not going to be able to go home tonight, Mumbo made himself as comfortable as he could. Grian nuzzled even closer, if that was possible. Mumbo sighed softly, letting his own eyes fall closed.

In the morning, he’d ask Grian if he was feeling alright. Mumbo had the suspicion that Grian was coming down with something.

[lastheavens]

Coffee

I am a perpetually tired person. So tired in fact that my mom bought be Super B Complex vitamins to try to help me with my energy levels. I really should be taking them but they taste like shit. Maybe I'll start tomorrow. I probably need to. As a first semester college student, an engineering student to be more exact, my bloodstream is made up of 3 things: melatonin, ibuprofen, and coffee. If I wasn't so adverse to the taste of alcohol that would probably be in there too. There's an ounce of irony in these things I think. Melatonin to make a perpetually tired person is kind of an oxymoron when you hear it but my brain is dumb as rocks and somehow, despite wanting to sleep all day, can never sleep. I think I'm just destined to be nocturnal but that kind of doesn't work when I have classes every day. Oh well the easiest solution is coffee, kinda.

I absolutely love coffee. Not normal coffee though, espresso. I love espresso and I think if I was a rich man I'd have a really fancy machine and all the fancy tools. But alas I am a college student running off the money from my summer job that is quickly dwindling from my daily Starbucks runs. The funny thing is I don't need to be doing that. I have my pride and joy, my $100 Keurig from Walmart. It even came with a milk frother! A new model goes for $250 so of course finding that made me way too fond of it. I use it nearly every day, every day that I clean my cups that is. I'm awful at washing dishes but oh well it doesn't really matter. Point is I love coffee and drink it every day to "wake me up." Some may call this an "addiction" or a "problem" but I can actually stop whenever I want. The simple truth is coffee doesn't do jack shit for me. Not even the god damn espresso!! I'm still fucking tired after my coffee. It's a miserable life. I can get the right amount of sleep, drinking coffee, and eat well and I'll still be exhausted.

Now we're at the point in this where you might ask, "why don't you just drink energy drinks?" There is a very simple explanation! Those fuckers are evil. They either don't work or they give me such intense paranoia. The monster cans that are the size of redbull cans do nothing. The normal sized ones help a little bit. The resealable ones though?? Evil. Pure fucking evil. So I shall stick to coffee even if it does nothing unless I drink like 5 shots of espresso. It tastes much better than most energy drinks do anyway. Though at this point monster is probably better for me than what I get from Starbucks. Maybe some day I'll figure out how to be a normal living person with energy. For now I am so exhausted. I wanna take a nap right now so bad.

Current song obsession:

Idk what is but I've been listening to a lot of ABBA lately oh well it's fire.

[haleviyah]

A Hispanic/ Latino Perspective: Border Clarification

This is one of the rare times I’m going to get somewhat political here, but these comments spread by the media are hitting to way close to home for me, so here I go.

Before you pounce on me, let me explain this: I am a moderate. I favor no sides, I don’t treat people by their titles but rather I prefer to judge by character even though I am not the best at it, admittedly. I favour and respect those who keep their word and own their mistakes. In short, if you do what you promise to do, you have my approval whereas if not, you will bear the brunt of my blunt rebukes and sarcastic remarks.

I am also from South Texas, specifically the Rio Grande Valley, and am a descendent of two humble Mexican families who since the Mexican Border War have made Texas their great escape and home.

Bit of a geographical reference, if you don’t know here where the Rio Grande Valley is. Look at the state of Texas, there is a bulge of state going in each direction that makes it look like a fat, lower-case ”t” : El Paso is the most West of the state, the Panhandle (Amarillo) the Northmost, Texarkana the most Eastward followed by Houston, and WAAAAAAY at the bottom is Brownsville and the Southernmost tip of Texas.

And for those of you too lazy to Google or "DuckDuckGo" the map yourself I've attached it:

The four counties: Hidalgo, Cameron, Starr and Willacy county make up the Rio Grande Valley. This is the region I grew up, the place where I experienced the best of a community and the worst of politics and failed promises.

For a bit of background: I have a parent working on the Border and they have been for many years (since I was a kid). Pretty much worked from a security officer to trooper within the span of a decade which is quite impressive and rare considering they never took bribes or anything to get where they were currently. They have told me off and on what their job is like. It’s crazy and boring some days, but also they have admitted somethings that may be fascinating. One of which is, yes, they do own horses and the reason why is so the Troopers can maneuver around tough terrain vehicles cannot go through (such as high water or narrow foot paths in brush). HOWEVER, they DO NOT OWN WHIPS. They don’t even own lassos, according to my Border Agent parent.

The only weapons agents on horse back have is a Glock, ammo, a taser, cuffs, and sometimes shot guns (but they prefer to carry light for the horses and themselves to be more flexible). They mainly carry items that would slow a person down or prevent them from hurting other people, officer or civilian; not for killing. So a whip is absolutely redundant or even absurd to have.

Those long ropes the Troopers are holding are called reins, and they are designed for steering a horse (horses cannot move opposite of the direction of their head; where their head is pointed they move in that direction). They are not made for whipping people, but rather made to get the horse’s attention. That’s it.

I took the liberty of highlighting the reins in red for you all as well as their arms and legs in blue and yellow in contrast to the reins and saddle.

It's clear from a Texan's or horse-riders perspective this Trooper almost fell off catching the other fellow and was holding onto the left rein for dear life hence why the horse looked distressed and its cheek was pulled back.

I'm not joking, you fucking try it if you're so damn horse-smart.

Now, let's look at a more relaxed position.

In short, if you haven't ridden a horse, I advise to keep your comments to yourself on this part. I have and it's way harder than it looks (horses can get cocky).

Second thing, the migrants.

Personally, I don’t know why they were so squirrelly that day. Perhaps they were spooked because they’ve never expected horse back riders to show up, maybe they had some bad experiences back home.

I don’t know!

But it’s clear there appears to be a lack of communication. Perhaps it’s the language barrier given that these guys came from Haiti, African countries and Brazil. English they probably know, but they probably don’t speak a lick of Spanish (Which both languages are mandatory for the Border Patrol).

(Again, I don't know...)

So the reasons why they started running circles around the Troopers’ horses is not for me to speculate, it’s not for YOU to defend blindly, nor is it up for the media to interpret and evangelize.

That should be left to the people to explain. No one else.

(Update: September 29th. I received a tip from a source that the Haitian immigrants (mainly) are not running from anything, they aren’t seeking asylum nor were in poverty as the media claims. They have admitted upon interview they were what we consider middle-low class and had no issues finding jobs before they decided to migrate northward. They’re just coming because they were told to come by “you-know-who”… that’s all. I know, I’m taken aback and scratching my head, too… but anyway. I digress, but do take note.)

Now, another bit of feedback I want to share: When it comes to dealing with Troopers (again, must I remind you this is a Border Patrol agent’s kid speaking), big rule:

DO NOT RUN nor MAKE THREATENING MOVEMENTS. Be calm.

It’s a simple rule, if you’re cool with the Troopers they’ll be cool with you. That’s it. Please respectfully keep in mind, these guys are trained to be safe rather than sorry. So patience and understanding with them is a must. Trust me, I’ve met my parent’s co-workers, they may look stoic and scary or condescending, but they can not let personal emotions interfere their work otherwise they risk safety.

They’re not “paranoid” or “harsh” they just have a job they cannot afford to fuck up otherwise the whole region is FUCKED. They’re the front line of defense, and do keep that in mind.

(Another footnote: I have seen Border Patrol offices, and without giving away how they function it’s not like CIA or Langley level of clean or fancy, so don’t think their offices are high tech and have marble floors with comfy lounges that cost a lot of money. Upon first glance you won’t expect the building to be an office. Border Patrol work with what they have available which isn’t a lot thanks to the ’00, ’04, ’08, ’12 and current administrations. That’s all I can give out.)

I’m going to come clean here and say the citizens in the Rio Grande Valley and the rest of Texas DO NOT FEEL SAFE with a border this wide open and no regulation is applied. Especially the Hispanic/Latino communities. So the pressure is on - and I mean REALLY on! Despite these guys working the Border are overwhelmed, they keep those emotions and opinions on lockdown when on the field. Like I said: If they fuck up, the region is fucked.

Bit of a history lesson: the Border issues on the Rio Grande are not new. Matter of factly, this problem has been happening for decades (The popular peak was during the 80s when cocaine was being distributed), but it was more than just cocaine and pot: Kids were going missing, people getting killed, women were used as mules and sold for sex, etc.

If you watched “Narcos” or “Sicario” you have a brief, dramatized taste of how the cartels function and what life is like for us Latinos. However, coming from someone who grew up there, the parts of watching your back, the abductions and even the gruesome murders are legit. To this day I remember seeing local news coverage (not CNN or MSNBC, our own stations down in the McAllen/Brownsville area) of beheadings, child murders and bodies being found in pieces… It’s something I hope my children won’t have to grow up hearing almost weekly like I did. Now it’s daily… and no one cares. And that hurts.

In the grand scheme of things, at least know this: South Texas has been part of the Cartel battle grounds and it’s obvious we’ve seen shit. Constantly being ignored is the payment we get for being front lines in the Drug War. So don’t blame us for being jumpy, or skeptical, nor even try convince us that the current surplus of immigrants is a good thing.

You can’t argue with our own experiences and history. The way things work down here is simple: You fight along side us, we fight along side you.

It’s called building trust, practicing faith. But we’ve been forgotten and lied to too many times by celebrities and politicians and social movements alike. And those who actually were going to help us are either shut down or unfortunately killed.

We just can’t trust anyone anymore. We are resorting to fending for ourselves basically, speaking up for ourselves… and so far it’s making progress in the mean time.

This level of “doing things on your own” bleeds into why our Troopers are trained they way they are trained - to expect the worst case scenario. To prepare themselves for the corpses, when a criminal pounces, the drugs being hid, for when they find a child with an adult they don’t know, or even a woman who was violated. They just genuinely don’t want to take chances and you just read why. Even my in-laws up in the Northern Midwest are disturbed.

So, considering the case of what happened a few days ago in Del Rio, Texas (as of writing this on September 25th 2021): If you run from a Trooper the first thing they are going to think is either two things:

You did something bad upon coming in to the country or

You don’t want your former government to find you because you did crimes in your home country or the country you were hiding in.

This is protocol, not biased opinions.

If, however, a Trooper commits any form of irresponsibility (such as abusing their power, unreasonable search and seizures etc.) it’s “kiss your badge good-bye” and DEMOTED or FIRED. The stakes of keeping your job in the Border Patrol are HIGH, so they are trained not to act out of line. Even a minor slip up in paper work from being fatigued gets you in SEVERE trouble with the Higher Ups and the County (Yes, that does happen and has happened). But you have to KNOW Border Patrol standards before you accuse them of anything.

With that being said, what’s floating around is not a constructive argument; it’s a distraction. How the public is demanding the trooper in the photo to be fired, tells us Latinos loud and clear that - once again - no one cares about our livelihood; no one is willing to brave enough to face the real hell going on. We are ignored or low-key demonized for simply defending ourselves.

(Now, you guys are seeing why I relate to my Jewish husband and the Israeli’ citizens - Arab and Jew - more; we’re pretty much in the same boat in the case of being ignored. But I digress.)

Before I come to a conclusion, here are other demographic facts to keep in mind that way it’ll help draw conclusions:

86.6% of the Border Patrol is HISPANIC/LATINO in the State of Texas alone.

A majority of children stolen from their families or molested are HISPANIC/LATINO.

A majority of the women violated immigrants on the border are mainly HISPANIC/LATINO.

Latin America collectively (Mexico down to Colombia and Venezuela) has the highest rates of femicide in the world.

So for you or anyone to get angry at Border Patrol agents in an unjust manner, not only are you getting mad at Hispanics and Latinos in UNIFORM for fighting to keep their communities safe, but you are actively contributing to the hell our families go through every day.

When you protest in demand for our cops or even troopers to be defunded, and fired for petty things, YOU are actively contributing to the problem of human trafficking, rape, kidnappings and murder that happens on the border. You are contributing to the Hispanic and Latino communities being dismantled and disintegrated by people who potentially want to kill us or hate us for money’s sake.

Take all of that into consideration before you get angry at anyone here.

In short:

I’ll only consider the accusations if you yourselves have been there and know the burdens we bear.

I’ll only consider your judgement if you genuinely are in law enforcement and know how to ride a horse and try to stop someone from running while riding the beast.

I’ll only consider your feedback if you don’t rely heavily on news like CNN, Telemundo and Tumblr for your information.

Until you grab a gun and fight the cartel yourself, and figure out a way to end this war on human trafficking, don’t come to us Latinos and express that you care and appreciate us.

Because frankly if you GENUINELY did, you’d bring to light what I just said and be slamming the desks at D.C. and DEMANDING the Border to be CLOSED by now.

Regardless of your political and personal beliefs, this is what is REALLY going on, and we’re going to keep fighting. Like the Israeli’s we don’t give a fuck if you hate us. We’re not radicals, we’re not blood-thirsty heathens, we’re not white supremacists (80+% of our population is of Latino Mexican descent) we’re just fed up with running away and being taken advantage of or taken for granted by people who value money over the lives of our neighbors.

If this were California, fine! Rail all you want, cuss us out as much as you want; hold us to those to California standards you keep yourself. But we’re not California.

We’re not D.C., nor Chicago, nor L.A., or New York, Florida, Canada, Mexico or whatever. We are SOUTH TEXAS so treat us as SOUTH TEXAS.

Honor us for who we are and hold us to the standards of what is SOUTH TEXAS, what is The United States Constitution, and the Texas Constitution; nothing more and nothing less. Don’t tear us down for what we’re not nor hold us accountable to an opinion or law we never agreed to nor knew existed.

That’s all I ask: If you’re not willing to honour our community and help us while holding us to our standards on a cultural, State or Federal level, back the fuck off. Generations we’ve dealt with the pressure from both the cartel and corrupt government from both the U.S. and Mexico, and the last thing we need is pampered kids living in the high rises or going to university on loans from school or your parents' paychecks, telling us how to deal with our issues.

You are FAR from a place to tell us how to function and resolve our war.

I’m not trying nor want to start a fight or otherwise, but I’m simply, humbly asking: when did we ever genuinely ask you “social justice advocates” to be our hero?

When did we ever ask you to fight for us or talk about what you think is wrong with us? Because last I checked we don’t want to drag anyone into our battles.

Also, we only know one messiah, but we never asked you to be him nor for him to act like you.

Did you start throwing punches because you wanted to find something to excuse your anger and outbursts, or is your good intentions married with ignorance?

Either case… it’s extremely unhealthy of you, and please just stop before another person gets hurt. We don’t want that. This is no different from the Crusades our ancestors took part in, and it will only end in more carnage than already sown.

So, just please, stop and take a step back for a moment. We don’t need anymore vehement evangelical-like people who just think with their ideals and not take a moment to have a healthy discussion with the One who created us, or let alone divorce their lust for a fight for ten seconds.

To close this off, even though I haven’t been home in a while, I know the spirit and the struggles the Rio Grande Valley goes through. I have met people on the run from the cartel first hand, and I have met people who may have ties with the cartel. I have seen some creepy shit, I have grown frustrated over the Protestant Baptist church doing nothing, and I have even been feeling the pressure my parent goes through with these apathetic riots threatening their job as a Border Patrol agent.

But aside from the pain, I am tremendously blessed that people and my family are still very optimistic despite the craziness and how bleak things are.

The family-oriented culture of the Rio Grande Valley is what is keeping it together… not trends, not clout and neither these guys in D.C. or Hollywood who are playing G-d.

It's the family-oriented connection. Our faith, that's keeping us going.

And even though I may not be the best voice of that region to speak up, I am blessed to have been there and I do plan on coming back soon.

I am planning on giving a more fun journal featuring the culture of the Rio Grande Valley in the future to finish this month off, but for the sake of this “Hispanic Heritage Month” I wanted to share our REAL issues we deal with rather than the made up ones that media likes to mainstream for money and clout.

In a way, I hope this offers clarity and a level of empathy. Again, I’m not sharing this to start fights or get sympathy - we don’t want it. We just want to know if our fights are not ignored, we just want to know we are heard.

That’s all.

[blushing-starker]

the incredible @puppypeter (check out their blog, it's amazing) asked for a soft, ageing starker and my heart cracked in two cuz I live for this dynamic. Can you tell I'm living for the sake of moodboards?

He loves Tony, he really does. But if the so called genius forgets his reading glasses one more time, Peter will lovingly shout at him. Because he had covered the entire lab in neon post it notes, programmed an alarm in each A.I and explicitly reminded Tony every day before the road trip. They were going to Europe and that implied museums and fancy menus and speeches and glasses so Tony wouldn't be squinting at tiny words whenever he was curious about something. But Peter was 99.999999% sure his boyfriend would accidentally forget to pack his things just so he could show the world Tony Stark was not ageing, no sir. Which is why Karen and Friday had helped Peter buy and safe guard thirty pairs of glasses in their luggage.

By the fourth day, they were all gone. Peter is seconds away from scolding Tony because this was important, it has to do with his health, dammit, when he turns around and there's a cat. His boyfriend is cooing at the feline, scratching beneath a furry chin and grinning when the cat begins pawing at the last pair of glasses they have. Does his heart melt at the sight? Yes. Was he still angry? Absolutely. Will he ask Tony how the hell he found a cat in the jet hangar? No. They've been together for eight months, Peter's used to animals just showing up and seeking Tony out.

"No." A hurt look is aimed at him and he won't laugh, he can't surrender even if the cat copies Tony's face and gives the most pitiful meow Peter has heard in eighteen years.

"But it's all alone here, Peter. And look, it's cute like you." It is a pretty cat, fur an almost identical shade to Tony's hair and the fluffiest tail a cat could posses. That's not the point though, is it?

"It could belong to someone in the area or have kittens. We can't just take them, Tony. And a cat is a responsibility. It's not like having DUM-E or Karen. You have to feed the cat, vaccinate them, pet them, clean them and not forget them in a hotel five cities away. I won't be at the house every day to remind you to look after yourself and a cat. "

The billionaire lights up and Peter knows he'll have a headache by the end of this.

It's been amazing to travel all over Europe, he's enjoyed exploring new places with Tony. After months of rising crime, overwhelming homework and hungry rivals choking the life out of them, a vacation was desperately needed. He's not in the mood to fight, but he will if he has to. Peter knows Tony is getting older and he doesn't care. Sure, he cares about his health and making Tony go to monthly check ups and take his vitamins and having his glasses so he could be safe and drive properly and-

Peter cares about his well being. Always. But he doesn't care that Tony's getting older and it's more obvious now than a year ago. There are wrinkles around teasing eyes and sexy graying temples and creaking joints, but that does not mean Peter loves this ridiculous man in front of him any less. He finds Tony gorgeous, always has and always will. It's not just about his body, it's Tony himself that's so attractive. And yeah, he also finds a silver fox Tony really fucking hot. He's 21, he can ogle whoever he wants.

Right now, however, he's staring Tony down.

It's not that he doesn't want to take in every stray and care for them. It's that he can't be sure Tony will remember to act accordingly.

"I asked around and apparently she's already been vaccinated and sterilized by the manager. No one's taken her home yet because most people have allergic family members. She just showed up a few days ago. You have to know that's weird. This cat appears the week we get here and she's already had her shots. What are the chances she'd strut out and start purring at me? Come on, Pete. The universe wants me to take this cat home."

His eyebrow twitches. He's sure of it when Tony glances up and sets his shoulders back. Every Avenger knew to prepare for a fight when Peter's face moved that way. This man would kill him. He's fucking certain he won't live to twenty-five.

"You forgot your glasses in every city we've been to. How am I supposed to let you take a cat with us? "

"I knew you'd have back ups," the blood rushes to his head and the cat snuggles closer to Tony, ears flattening when Peter's lip curls, "and anyway, I won't forget two cats in a hotel because they meow and move. How could I forget when they're alive and not something as small as reading glasses?"

Distantly, he's pleased. Happy with the knowledge that his boyfriend knows how to read him like a book. It's why they're great together, villain or no villain around to threaten their lives. That's something he'll preen over later while calling Ned. Now he smiles, teeth bared and eyes cold.

"Did you say two cats? Because I swear I'll leave you here, Tony. I've got Karen and a car and lots of sightseeing to do. If there's another cat, I will drive away and call Pepper to pick you up. And you know how she gets when you make her travel half way around the world, Tony. I will finish this trip. If you wanna keep the cats, then keep them. Here in a hotel, practicing how to care for them while I do what I wanted to do with you. Or you can send them to the house with someone else and join me. I know you, you're gonna end up with cats in the house. But I am not babysitting two cats while worrying about you too. I love you, I do. I won't do it, Tony."

His heart would be destroyed if anything happened to those cats and Peter had no plans to cry during this trip. Something shifts in Tony's face and he sighs, defeated. A pout is forming rather quickly and Peter can't believe this is the same man that saved the universe. His boyfriend is a child. He's head over heels in love with a child and Peter knows it. Christ, he won't last two minutes angry if Tony keeps sulking like that. It hurts too much.

Hands that have used Infinity Stones are softly setting the cat down when Peter groans, rocks on his heels and mentally curses his parents in law for bringing an insanely ridiculous man into the world.

"Fine, keep the cats. But you are not losing those glasses and I better see you taking all your pills. Ok, Tony? I mean it, they are your responsibility and I don't want you leaving them in a hotel because you were too busy thinking about something else-"

Tony drops the cat, pounces at him and he's suddenly in the air, strong arms twirling him in a circle. It's the silliest thing they've done in their whole trip and they'd taken pictures with a shoe as a tripod.

Laughter bubbles up and Peter is helpless to stop the joy that washes over him at the sight of his grinning boyfriend. He really loves this man.

He wraps his own hands around Tony's face, draws him in and kisses the smile that's replaced a pout. They stay like that, Peter straddling Tony, lips intertwined and laughter slipping out every few seconds. The cat meows at them for attention and he thanks Maria and Howard Stark for such an insanely wonderful boyfriend.

(They keep the cats, finish the trip and Tony never loses a pair of glasses again. Then again, he never had.)

Sorry for the weird spacing, tumblr doesn't like me.

[friendelius-writes]

Through the Window |:| Tom Holland

Mob!Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: As Tom's new neighbor, [Y/N] didn't know that a look through his window costed them lots.

A/N: Low-key a bit creepy, but hey, I would be curious too. (This is my first official fanfic on this blog! Thank you so much for reading~)

Written by @friendelius-writes

Warnings: Guns, swearing, some violence, angst??

NOT MY GIF

It was a tough two months at [Y/N]'s new home as everything was, well, new. They were completely alone in this new, clean, neighborhood for the first time.

For a while, they didn't know what to do as they were used to hot dinners and nagging, but now, they've been stuck with frozen dinners and the sound of loneliness blasted across the house. Wanting to scratch that itch of going home diminished after meeting their next-door neighbor, Tom Holland.

During a cozy, summer morning while [Y/N] was setting their garden, he was the first person to introduce himself to them. The simple interraction made them feel welcomed and known in this unexplored territory. Now and then, if [Y/N] was outside at the same time as him, Tom would simply make small-talk with [Y/N] before being swallowed by his home.

However, something was tugging in [Y/N]'s mind about him. From generic observations, they have never seen anyone going in nor out of that house besides Tom. Most of his windows were crystal clear and displayed furniture in the room, but [Y/N] hasn't caught sight of that brown-haired male. [Y/N] assumed it was because he's busy, but the amount of time [Y/N] spent at home looking through his windows proved otherwise.

He seemed to be invisible for most of the day as [Y/N] seen no sight of him until those rare moments where he leaves his house and starts up his fancy car [Y/N] doesn't know the brand of. They've never seen Tom return, but he's leaving the house again in a few days. All his groceries were delivered to the back of his house and were always gone by morning. A gardener came once a week as well as someone from the cleaning department.

Once, on a warm, summer evening, with the darkening sky speckled with faint white, [Y/N] was slurping a smoothie as they gazed at the blaring television. The AC was blasting, and [Y/N] was snugged into a reclining chair. A commercial for the next big oven invention was dancing off the white walls, and the smooth hum of the microwave warming their T.V. dinner was the added touch.

Once the microwave chimed, a black van slowed right in front of Tom's house. While rising to grab her T.V. dinner, [Y/N] spectated the van through the kitchen window and observed two men dragging along another person towards the front door with another man dressed in a suit following behind. [Y/N] didn't catch a glimpse of the person, but [Y/N] immediately snatched their chicken nugget dinner and sat back down to watch it unfold. This could reveal more about him.

Bashes at the door alerted Tom, so, he swung the door open and, immediately, confusion jumped onto his face as he glanced between the well-dressed men.

"Why the hell are you here?" Tom demanded as he ushered the men inside in case any prying eyes were watching.

Once [Y/N] shut the television off, they maintain focus on the show unfolding before them as they finally see Tom Holland interact with human life. Unfortunately, they couldn't hear a thing, so they resorted in making up their own dialogue in their head, totally oblivious of the truth.

"We're sorry, mate," started one of the men, "but this little pipsqueak," he gestured to the cowering man, "was so fucking adamant about seeing you about his debt."

"You weren't picking up your goddamn phone, Tom," the other man added quickly with a sprinkle of irritation in his voice. Tom's jaw tensed and shoved his hands into his fluffed hair.

"Well, maybe, Sam, I fucking was purposefully ignoring to get a good night's sleep."

"It's, like, eight o'clock! Why are you fucking sleeping when you could be out having fun with the ladies?"

"Well, maybe, Harry, I'm tired," with a faint growl, Tom rubbed his face roughly, "how many times have I told you to not fucking appear at my fucking house when it's about work?! For all I know, someone could fucking be watching right now!" The twins rolled their eyes simultaneously, and Harry shoved the frighten man towards Tom.

"Just deal with him quickly, then," Harry spat. Tom ran his tongue against his bottom teeth, tightening his jaw. With arms wrapped around himself, he sighed of defeat and faced Harrison.

"I assume you have his file, Haz?" Harrison grinned as he whipped out the manila folder.

"Of course! Did you think I'd come empty-handed?" Tom seized the thin folder and opened it to glance at its contents. Once his eyes laid upon the man's history, Tom tutted and leisurely ambled towards the man who instantly found the pattern in the carpet more interesting.

"Oh, Chase Walker, what am I gonna do?" Tom slapped the folder shut and clutched Chase's chin to snap his head upwards.

"You are here because you wanted to see me, but as I clearly see in the database that you were supposed to return that 250 grand you borrowed from me," he released Chases's chin with a thrust and handed the folder back to Harrison, "the task was simple: get me that 250 grand by today." Chase's eyes wavered as he glanced at Tom and clasped his hands together after dropping onto his knees.

"Pl-Please, I beg you. I-I've only got a hun-hundred grand. I need more time! The re-recent tests on my wife are co-costly! Our insurance—"

"I don't care about your fucking problem!" As if on cue, Harrison handed him a piece of paper with scribbles at the bottom. Tom shoved the paper towards Chase's face.

"Do you not remember this? This was the damn contract you signed, indicating when you'll return the money." Chase shattered as his hot cheeks felt wet while feeling like he was being suffocated in a plastic bag, choking on his words.

"B-but I—"

"No 'but's," Tom tossed the contract to the side and eyed the twins, "take him upstairs to my office." The twins complied and hauled Chase up the carpeted steps.

"Where are they going?!" Exclaimed [Y/N] as they noticed they moved to somewhere else. Hurling their dish onto the table, they shot up and waited to see where they'll be by the windows. They caught sight of the five walking along the second floor through the wide window and then disappeared. For quite sometime, [Y/N] didn't notice them until they saw a barely noticeable Tom far from the window. Where Tom was, [Y/N]'s equivalent was standing in front of their bedroom window. Assessing the situation, their eyes widened and their hand rapidly covered their mouth that flung open at what was in Tom's hands.

"N-no! Wh-what are you doing?! Don't shoot me, I beg you," Chase crawled along the floor and gripped Tom's legs, wailing and pleading to let him live, "please! I'll do anything!" But Tom simply ignored him. He let Chase beg; he let Chase scratch his legs; he let Chase suffer knowing he's going to die.

"Harrison, throw me that silencer over there." Harrison tossed a slick, black, cylindrical silencer to Tom, and Tom caught it right before screwing it onto the front of his pistol. With Chase's cries slowing down, knowing it's not going to do anything, Tom kicked him off and aimed right between Chase's eyes. Once Chases's eyes started to water again, Tom pulled back the safety and pulled the trigger.

With a heavy sigh, he turned around and instantly noticed a figure right across at the neighboring house. His face hardened as [Y/N] realized he saw them. With fear bubbling inside them, they ran as far as they could to reach their phone downstairs. Tom swiveled to the men in the room, and pointed to the window.

"We've been spotted. Catch the person nextdoor, and bring them here!" Ordered Tom as the men sprinted out the door with no delay.

[Y/N] snatched their phone and dialled the police while running out the back door, hoping to get to their vehicle quickly.

"What's your emerg—" [Y/N]'s phone cracked against the ground as another tackled them. Harrison stomped onto [Y/N]'s phone as Sam forced them up while keeping a firm arm around their mouth to prevent loud noise.

[Y/N] whirled around in Sam's arms as Sam kept his stance and hauled [Y/N] towards Tom's house as quickly as possible. Inaudible sounds escaped [Y/N]'s mouth as their arms continuously pulled Sam's arm away from their mouth. Clearly, Sam was stronger than [Y/N], but they didn't give up anyway because anything was better than nothing.

[Y/N] was thrown onto the carpeted floor in the blood-splattered room and caught sight of the dead man lying against the chair. [Y/N] felt their stomach turn inside out and gagged at the image. They turned their head around to avoid it.

"Well, [Y/N]. How much did you see?" Tom's sickly soft voice penetrated [Y/N]'s brain that gave warnings that this guy just murdered a man in his own house. They looked up but refused to make eye contact with the murderer.

"Everything," [Y/N] announced with venom soaked in it. Tom threw his head back as a throaty laugh echoed in the soiled room.

"Pity. You've started to grow on me," informed Tom in a faux sweet tone. He took a few steps back and pointed the gun at their head.

"Sweet dreams."

And he pulled the trigger.

[atombombbagel]

You think you could do a short story about what happened to Hancock right after he took the radiation drug? (Like what do you think that felt like? Do you think it involved a lot of puking? Do you think it was before or after he became mayor? Do you think at some point Hancock thought he was gonna die?) All I've gotta say is I figure ghoulification is very unpleasant and painful as all hell.

written by @fantomofthehiddles, because they are so much better at explaining this stuff than I am 

[[Just to be clear, this is based on my own monsterpost about ghoulification from a bit ago + our talks with Bagel where we were figuring out Hancock’s timeline and figured his change “to become a better man” must’ve happened all at once. Personally, I kinda don’t see Hancock becoming mayor and THEN changing into a ghoul and people just being okay with it, especially since this process would have to take two weeks minimum. It must’ve been before he overthrew Vic, but we also know he was human when he was a drifter… so that leaves only one moment in his life when this could’ve happened.]][[And no, I don’t think he thought he was gonna die. I think he HOPED he was gonna die.]][[But to everything else I say: yes, yes, and YES. And “enjoy” ;)]]

[[PS. And what do you mean, ‘a short story’? What is this combination of words I’ve never seen before??]]

John brushed his blonde hair away from his face, leaning on his knees over the pill he rolled about in his hands. He wiped his tear-stained face with his sleeve. The image of Tom’s head split open on the sidewalk was still freshly seared in his mind, and John could see it every time he closed his eyes. Tom wasn’t his friend. They didn’t even like each other. But no one deserved such a fate. John remembered how he’d moved towards the body, for no reason he could think of, only to stop when one of Vic’s goons, a walking monster truck called Brett, of all names, had aimed at him with his submachine gun. “Whatcha gon’ do, McDonough?” he’d said mockingly, laughing when John did take a step back, gritting his teeth. There really was nothing he could do, was there? Just like before. Just like always. There was nothing he could do. Or, he did everything he could. Or was it just something he was telling himself to be able to sleep at night? He stifled a sob as another wave of tears flowed down his face. He wasn’t even a man anymore. He was… next to nothing.Might as well, right?The pill was round and pretty big, a perfect sphere in all regards except for one small indentation probably marking the spot where it would start… John didn’t want to think about it. He just wanted to escape the promenade of mistakes that his life was. The image of brains on cement. The bloody body parts scattered in the ruins. He exhaled sharply and swallowed the pill before he could change his mind, washing it down with a bottle of vodka as it made an impossible amount of stops down his oesophagus. Well. It’s done. No taking it back now. All he could do now was wa…The pain began so abruptly it caught him completely unprepared. He doubled down, digging his fingers into his abdomen as it pierced through him, this debilitating power tearing at him from within. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t even scream as the pain spread to every part of his body, seemingly even to his bones… and then suddenly let go and diminished into nothing but odd discomfort in the pit of his stomach.

John pulled himself from the ground and sat back on the crate between one display and another in the Old State House storeroom. He could hear steps over his head, guards shifting places, completely unaware that he’d snuck in here just to fuck with them. Just because Vic said he wasn’t supposed to. And Vic was just two floors up, he thought to himself. Every fiber of John’s being wanted only to get his hands on a gun, go up there, and shoot that fucking bastard in the face. See HIS brains on the sidewalk. But that wasn’t going to happen, was it?He gulped what was left of the vodka all at once–and in another minute, he was on all fours giving it all back to the floor. He cursed and grabbed some tarp to clean it up. Oh, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. Fuck. It was hard enough to get in here under Vic’s guards’ noses; the last thing he needed was to alert them to his presence by gurgling his guts out and screaming in pain. Yet, somehow, through the mind-clouding nausea and head-splitting headache, he knew it was only going to get worse.

While he still could stand up and move around a little, he slid some display cases in to barricade the door. The last thing he needed was to be found out by someone while… Another wave of nausea sent him to his knees. He quickly latched on to a steel bucket he found in the corner, and when he raised his head, he could see there was blood mixed in with the vomit. Fuck. He could feel it pooling in his mouth, filling it with the taste of iron and… rot? Fuck. He spat it out into the bucket.Then, fever hit. His strength was diminishing fast; soon, it was an exorbitant effort to even turn to the other side as he lay on the tarp on the floor, his knees pulled up to his chin like that was supposed to help with the cramps. Ohh, he was never going to tell another woman she was overreacting. This was karma punishing his ignorance, he was sure of it. And boy, did he deserve it on so many levels.Could he just die yet?He didn’t know how long he lay there–hours? days? weeks?–shivering, no, shaking, really, barely able to breathe, pain clawing at his body as he yearned for the end… His mind barely holding on, and yet still insanely clear. It was like living through every pain of his entire life… and surviving. If he could, he would’ve shot himself in the head right now, just to stop the pain, just to finally rid the world of himself; but also, there was something there… pulling on his consciousness like a child tugging at their mother’s skirt as his brother played nearby… something that wanted him to live. Something that stroked his head and said it would all be… just fine. But how could it? Heart pounding like crazy… Fighting for every breath… like living underwater… Water… Holy fuck, he was so thirsty… Everything was pain. Burning… Even through the haze he could feel his skin… falling off. Every move hurt more than the last, but… was he even moving? Or was he swimming? What was that?… Green skies?… A child…? What…?

When he awoke, he immediately retched out a dark, thick puddle of whatever was left of his stomach, apparently. Everything was… blurry and dark… Ugh, he still wasn’t fully there. Where was he, actually? Old State House? But… Fuck, he was so out of it. Even the worst trips he’d ever had were never this… Never like this. The pain was mostly gone now, though. At least that. John pulled himself from the tarp and saw his silhouette still perfectly painted on it in what looked like watered-down blood and… pieces of him. His hair was spread like an aureola around the place where his head just lay.John wiped his face and nearly jumped out of his skin when he pulled off a good part off his nose straight off his head. He dropped in on the tarp. “What the actual fuck?” he mumbled. That was not how he expected this to go. As he pulled himself up on shaky arms, he suddenly felt how insanely hungry he was. Thankfully, he brought some food with him when he was coming down here, though tatoes were no longer an option. At least… Holy shit.His gaze fell on his blurry reflection in one of the cleaner display cases and John couldn’t help but stare at how much had changed. There was a bony ridge jutting out from where he’d just pulled his nose off. His eyes were pitch black. Every bit of hair he ever had was gone. He couldn’t help but check, but yeah, down there, too. Geez, he should grow up.For some reason, he couldn’t take his eyes off of that reflection. It still seemed surreal. But then, the world around still felt surreal, too. Was it really him? Did he really…? He stared at his hands, covered in scars and red burns. Hissed, pulling off some fingernails that still held on, even though crooked and clearly dead. God… What has he done to himself?He fell back to his knees. His heart was pounding as he buried his face in his hands. It wasn’t supposed to be like this… This was supposed to fix him… or kill him. He was supposed to be dead. He didn’t deserve to live anyway, not after everything that had…

A shiver went through him. There was a hand stroking his head. He looked up and his black gaze fell into his mother’s warm, gray eyes. “It’ll all be fine,” she said with a comforting smile. “I still love you, baby, even if you’re someone else. It wasn’t your fault. None of it.” Then John blinked and she was gone, and for a second, he felt debilitatingly alone. But he wasn’t, was he? He wasn’t the only disembodied, homeless bastard in this town, in this world. But they were all huddled up, beaten down. Even though all it would take was for one single person to just… get up. And if there was anything John ever did wrong, it was waiting for someone else to get up first.It was right there in front of him the entire time. 'John Hancock’ written in faded, fancy letters above that silly outfit he’d laughed at before… all this. Before John Hancock.Might as well, right?

> Epilogue:“Hi, Timmy, and thanks for the help,” he said to the drunk drifter he’d paid to keep an eye out for the guards when he’d been sneaking in.“Huuh?” Timmy replied, eyeing him mistrustfully. “Who the fuck are you? Where’s McDonough?”“He’s gone,” John replied, reveling in what he was about to say. “I’m John Hancock now. And don’t worry, pal…” He patted his shoulder. “…I’m gonna fight for us.”

[elizabethrobertajones]

Sooo since last episode I've seen so many talk about how Ketch has a thing for Dean now. However, I've also seen countless other posts of people claiming that he wants Cas and also Mary... To me I can understand all sides since Ive seen him expressing interest in all three of them. What do you think of his behaviour? Thanks :)

That post about how he’s turned on by their power/skill makes the most sense to me. I mean the most obvious is him asking Mary for a drink after complimenting her skills as a hunter, but his curiosity about Cas comes from the same place, I reckon. He doesn’t know what Cas could do but he sure likes the flashy toys and Cas can smite stuff so he IS a flashy toy. Everyone seems to know he’s the Winchester’s attack dog, and that mentality really appeals to Ketch because it’s how he seems himself and he seems to think there’s something noble in being a killer on someone else’s leash - in that power dynamic what the intel the BMoL seem to have on them is that this is what Cas is to them. I think he’s probably most interested in Cas with the least knowledge of how to get to him so Mary is second best :P The best “Winchester” in the definition where they don’t know Cas is also a Winchester. 

So far all we know about how he feels about Sam is that he’s not as good as Mary.

Dean, I don’t think he likes at all. He already thinks Mary is the best Winchester, but, borrowing Mittens’ thought on it, Sam and Dean went and got themselves caught by the government, and needed a ton of clean up work. Their record is sloppy and they’ve left a trail, and once Ketch followed them for a few episodes after being called in, he discovered they were really bad at their job, leaving monsters alive all over the place because ew compassion. 

Idk if he knew Dean and Sam had separated out - maybe he was keeping tabs on them, stalking them a bit more, and saw Sam leave alone and thought now was the time to say hi to Dean or whatever… I mean you could say he waited 3 days for the chance after Mary told them, though obviously he was going around hunting with her… Anyway, Dean got separated out and he showed up on the doorstep with the exact right words and offering to get himself invited in… 

And I think all the meta is right that this is all shown as a seduction, but I don’t think it’s that Ketch WANTS him, it’s more like… prove you’re worth me wanting you. (This is probably where he is with Sam too but Sam came to them before he had to try and “come to the dark side, we have cookies” him)

(I think they have their intel on the Winchesters, sure, and aside from Cas, one of the other things is knowing about Benny apparently. Whether you think anything happened there or not (and I don’t, really), it was a completely queer-coded relationship and I think could look that way to outsiders especially if they DIDN’T know all the details. I still wonder if they get info off the hunter grapevine and in this case the leak would be Martin, who Sam hired to watch Benny and would have had to explain some of it, and who knows what Martin inferred, but that episode in particular makes it clear Sam think Benny might be dangerous to Dean like Ruby was to himself… Also on the hunter grapevine, what DO they think about demon!Dean and Crowley, if they know anything at all? In 12x06 it was implied hunters certainly tell stories about Dean, and Dean had a worried look about what those might be… Ketch showing up like, “inclinations” and Dean being like “I see what you’re implying about us” with a dramatic lack of “don’t play for that team” nonsense despite facing down a character he already thinks is a villain and hates on principle… Yeah. Layers. Lots of them. bi Dean all the way down :P)

Anyway, Ketch lures Dean out to go hunt some stuff with him, and I think there’s no reason to think Ketch was being weird for shifty purposes to be frustrated earlier about the fancy toys killing thing too easily, so Dean giving him a knife when he’s interested all seems like genuine good progress on impressing Ketch if you ask me. Dean just naturally seems to want to impress male authority figures (and Ketch makes it obvious enough he’s interested in Dean as recruitment so if Dean were to decide to respect the BMoL authority, Ketch would be an authority figure, technically they ARE in the same organisation since Sam and Dean have been quite happy to call themselves Men of Letters and legacies… Yeah, I don’t think Dean could help at least a little desire to impress there >.>

And all his old school hunter ways, letting Ketch see his trunk full of cluttered random weapons, no sleek devices suitcases with foam moulded around them or whatever, but just sharp things and guns and talismans… It’s practically medieval and Dean’s been hunting all this time like this? Ketch is probably both impressed like Dean is a rare specimen of historical importance to be preserved, and like, what if I let him play with my toys, how good would he be then? But yeah, he takes a knife and decides to rough it and do things Dean’s way, because killing is fun and killing with a knife all up close and personal? Clearly way more fun to him than throwing some device into a room and waiting for all the vampires to die… 

Dean is probably winning some serious points, before he stops Ketch hitting the vampire, stops to chat with her, and offers her mercy, as well as getting in the way of Ketch hitting things in general, which is probably a crime >.> He looks incredibly pissed off about that, gritting his teeth but doing what Dean wants for now because he IS trying to do what the higher ups want after all and so in a really messed up way it’s like 4x07 and Cas having to do what Dean ordered. Obviously different outcomes because Cas laughed for the first time after that, while Ketch is like [teeth gritting intensifies]…

He says it was working until things got messed up with the vampires attacking HQ, but he was really seeing for HIMSELF if Dean was worth it, and it had kind of decided, no, he has a boner for the killer instinct, and Dean got all dewy eyed over being kind to the vampire even when he said he’d kill her, it was as mercy from whatever Ketch would do. And Ketch was looking for like, messed up Mark of Cain kind of behaviour from Dean, and mirroring that himself. But Dean’s more than just that, and the part of him that is kind to bunnies and strange witches with bouncy hair comes out when you take away all the clutter and examine who Dean really is underneath it all. He kills things but he’s not a killer. 

Ketch may or may not continue trying to recruit Dean but I don’t think he likes him or is particularly interested in him. He was like trying out an awkward date after being set up by well-meaning friends, and gave it his best shot but it just wasn’t for him. 

(I think he’ll find Mary’s not all that great either - he was already bothering her to let go of her family ties and instead she somehow managed to strengthen them and even after he told her, went straight to them and maybe fell out with them but still took that as a sign to let them in instead of push them out. As for Cas… I think all he can see is the bit demons crush on right now. Five minutes around him and he’ll probably discover he’s not quite what’s advertised either… I’d like them to somehow end up first interacting properly in a kind of thrown together way where like the third thing that comes out of Cas’s mouth in his presence is “Agent Beyoncé” :P)