#by the way apparently this is like a real fucking thing in colorado

[melsimps]

[Tobias is showing the spiderlings his turf on earth 311619. He, Miles Pavitr, Gwen, and Hobie have settled in a booth at a pizza place he really likes]

Tobias: you guys are gonna love it. And Gwen, Miles... I know you two are from New York, but a Colorado style pizza is seriously amazing...

Gwen: really?

Miles: can't wait to try.

Hobie: 'ey, what's so special about it?

Tobias: ah, right! Well... the crust is, like... braided, right? And... and they serve it with a side of... know what? Just... wait and see...

Waitress: two pounds a' Colorado mountain, and a side of the usual liquid gold...

Tobias: thank you!

[The spiderlings get handed their meal, and it's... a pretty big pizza, with a small squeeze bottle of...]

Pavitr: ...is that... honey?

Tobias: Yeah! You, like... pour it on the top!

[The rest of the spiderlings grimace. Tobias takes a slice of his own, and pours a little bit of honey on it, enjoying it intensely]

Tobias: it's really good, guys... c'mon, try it...

[Hobie shrugs, picking the bottle up for himself and grabbing a slice]

Hobie: when in Rome, eh?

[wyn-n-tonic]

That's a Real Fucking Legacy: I Chose You

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/former Tommy Miller x f!reader Word Count: 2.6k+ Warnings: Unprotected PiV. Soft Joel. Talk of death. The gif is JUST a gif, there are NO descriptions of reader, it's just a visual reference of movement. Author's Note: Thanks for all the patience with this installment. I have been working very hard on DoYaM and fit in bits and bobs of other things where I can. Cannot fully convey how grateful I am for all the kind words, I really hope you like this, too.

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That's A Real Fucking Legacy Masterlist

Everybody said it was an accident, that it could’ve happened to anybody.

But it didn’t happen to anybody, it happened to him.

Stopped for a pick up at a site out in Colorado, Joel left you and the baby to finally contribute and pull his weight—to feel useful. He’s been itching for it this whole time, getting out there and working off the energy that’s penning up inside his chest. He said he wanted to partake in something other than just keeping your daughter at peace.

You didn’t tell him he’d be taking yours away, too. 

They were ambushed by another group, a bunch of men looking for food to take back to their women and children apparently. It was a fucking gun fight and if the blood on his shirt was just from a bullet, maybe this wouldn’t feel like having all the air sucked from your lungs.

Baby could sense it, too, the fear and devastation seeping through your body as they brought him back with another goddamn hole in his body.

He’s got plenty at this point, angry red and deathly white scars pockmarking his body like some kind of topographical map. 

That’s all it is, just another scar to add to his collection and reminisce about as you trace it in the darkness of whatever shared space you end up in.

Except, they’re saying this one might not scar.

It might not even heal.

All the things he’s done throughout these years, all the things he done to protect you—to provide for you.

That’s all he was doing this time, too, and it breaks you down all over again as you pull Baby closer to your aching, carved out chest.

Everybody you have ever loved has either left or been taken away.

Tommy’s hand lands gently on your shoulder but it might as well have been a goddamn hit with the way you pull away from him.

“What do you want?”

“I brought some food,” he whispers, setting down a small plate between where you’re sitting and where Joel’s body is laying. “And I came to check on you, see if there’s anything I could do for you.”

He pulls away when you look up at him, hands falling to his side like he’s been fucking burned. You know what you must look like—bloodshot eyes and hollow cheeks.

“Yeah, Tommy, you can fucking fix this.”

You watch as he swallows thickly, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as his eyes flicker from yours to his brother’s body and back. Not a day has gone by since he was brought back that you’ve left his side, doing your best to keep it together through every aching mile along the way to Jackson.

They look for medicine at every stop you make, coming up empty handed time and time again. If we don’t get to Jackson soon—to the doctor they have there—then he will die.

“I'm doing the best I can, sweetheart.”

“Don't you fucking dare call me that,” you tell him. Baby fusses in your arms like she can feel the hurt that’s heavy in your voice. “You were supposed to protect him, Tommy, you were supposed to bring him back to me alive.”

“He is alive,” he says, nostrils flaring as he points down at his brother. “He's right there, he’s breathing, and we are all doing the best that we can.”

Baby looks up at you, stung by the subtle anger that Tommy’s words hold. Her father may be trying to make nice with him, but you fucking won’t—you can’t. Not so long as he lays half clung to life next to you.

More words come at you—assurances and platitudes.

We’ll be in Jackson in two days.

They’re still looking.

He’s a stubborn piece of shit, he’ll make it through.

This is everything that he’s been afraid of this whole goddamn time. This is that fear come true that he’ll leave you or you’ll leave him or your daughter will leave you both and neither of you would survive that.

“Tommy,” you call his attention back on you as he turns. “I grieved for you,” you say. “God, I mourned and I wailed and I wept for days if not weeks or more.”

It’s like he’s understanding for the first time, truthfully understanding, as he stares down at your worn down body speaking all these fragile and broken words. Realization of just how much you hurt for him is dawning on him and he’s trying to give you more comfort, more words to say everybody will be okay.

But it won’t be true so long as your daughter is looking up at you with eyes that ask why your heart has stopped beating.

“I don't think you have heard me at any point that I have explained just what I feel for my family, Tommy,” you say. “I told you that I would’ve bled for you but that I would die for him so I really need for you to listen to me right now—if he goes, part of me will go with him.”

Jackson is like life before it stopped.

There is power here and children laughing.

There are babies and clothes and running water.

There are houses and furniture and trinkets and shops.

You haven’t been able to take any of this in, not really. Not when you’re walking around the halls of Tommy’s home like a ghost.

Tommy found penicillin after that night, came hauling ass into the room and injected his brother before you were even fully awake and registering what he was doing. Because, for a moment, you thought you were under attack. You though a runner had burst in and you couldn’t find the gun and this was the death you had feared beyond the walls—first Joel and then Thomi and then you. The last of those you love taken from you in the last moments that would make you welcome being ripped apart with open arms.

When you realized it was just Tommy, your heart half settled down and then you feared that maybe Joel had stopped breathing next to you. But that couldn’t have been the case because it was the shallow rise and fall of his chest as he fought against infection and the increasing cold that gave you any sort of hope or peace at all.

Joel woke up just as you made it through the gates of Jackson, one eye half cracked and already crying the moment he saw you next to him. Instead of going to the doctor, the doctor came to him. Modern medicine isn’t so modern anymore though, not the way it was when it all fell down. The penicillin likely wasn’t as potent as it once was but the doctor said it would do the trick and that the right thing was done by keeping his wound as clean as possible and bandaged tight.

Tommy said it was all you and the doctor was offering you a job before he’d even learned your name. You’ll get to that eventually, you told him so. Begged him to let you settle in and find a home, find a way to feel okay in this new space where you’re told fear doesn’t have to be your primary emotion any longer.

Now, though, Joel barely wants to sleep. He’s antsy, fidgeting and restless and begging to get out of bed and walk around.

He’s even bouncing Baby and talking with his brother on what jobs he can pull around town to earn his keep.

Fucking jobs.

You almost lost him to him pulling his own weight and he’s asking about fucking jobs with a half healed hole still gaping in his abdomen. 

Thomi’s been down for about an hour, she was your excuse away from the bathroom. With Joel up and about, the survival mode has turned off in your brain and now you want to crumble every time you look at the knotted over flesh.

But there’s only so much pacing that you can do until you’re sitting back in the room and staring down at Thomi with tears in your eyes. She came so close to being just another orphan in this fucked up world because you weren’t joking with Tommy when you said what you said. Part of you will go when Joel does, you will not be the same and you’ve prepared for it, you just hope she’s old enough to understand when that time comes.

There’s also the hope that everybody understands that it’s Joel who has to go first. Between you and him, he has to go first because he cannot watch another person he loves die; he cannot add another name to another gravestone in the cemetery of his heart.

That’s where he finds you, saying something about how he can’t believe there’s an actual crib that she actually gets to sleep in.

That fact and the exhaustion of his voice hits you, drags the tears out of you finally after all these days of having to be strong. She has a crib and she’s sleeping peacefully inside of it with a soft toy somebody in town sent over. Joel has a voice and he’s using it as if just a week ago you hadn’t convinced yourself that you’d never hear it again.

“How can I fix this?” He asks, gentle hand resting on your shoulder. “What can I do for you?”

“You're breathing,” you say, pushing the tears from your face. “That's enough, it’s all I’ve been hoping for.” Because while you want him to be the first to go, you can’t lose him yet. Not yet.

He smells good. Like himself but different, the sweet scent of the mint soap Tommy gave you mixing in with the natural musk and heat of him. You don’t even realize you’re crawling into his lap until you are.

Tears fall down on his face as your fingers thread through the slicked back hair until you’re cradling his head in your hand; holding him to you with open mouths breathing heavily into one another. 

He’s hard already and laying back with ease, thick hands gripping into the meat of your hips. It’s fucking embarrassing how close you are already but there was no privacy for sneaky touches on the journey here. 

“Off,” he commands, tugging at the hem of your shirt. 

Trailing his hand along the skin exposed as you comply easily to his demand, he fights against the pain you know he feels to pull himself forward enough to reach you and pull you back down. 

Days asleep fighting, literally, for his life and, yet, he’s still got all this strength radiating out of his body. You know that’s why he was able to hold on for so long but it doesn't mean it doesn’t wow you and bring another wave of sadness all at the same time.

Because if such a strong man can fall so easily, what’s stopping this world from taking you, too?

Like he can read your mind, his hands settle on your hips and he pulls back just enough to look up at you with the same big brown eyes your daughter shares. “Are you gonna get off of me if I tell you this moment was the focal point of all my fever dreams?”

Head cradled in both of your hands, you take his lips again. “I might never get off of you again, Joel Miller.”

Fighting against the pain he feels, he pushes his hips against your core as he pulls you down against him, whispered words of gratitude and love falling pushed right into your mouth from his.

“I heard every word you said,” he breathes out. “The entire time you were by my side, sweetheart, I heard it all.” 

Tongues flattened against each other, you reach down and pull off the new underwear—another offering in a gift basket to welcome your family to the town. You never thought you’d see these kinds of things again. 

Clothes in good condition; sturdy houses; friendly people; fresh vegetables.

It’s something else that drips tears from your eyes and down his cheeks.

As if he knows how overwhelmed you are by all the newness going on all around you, he takes charge to push up against your lips harder and with more hunger.

Joel’s goal in every moment between your bodies is to be the only overwhelming force you feel and he does just that with the gentle push of his solid length through your soaked channel. 

He takes the gasp you feed him, pulling back with a smile to trail the tip of his nose down the length of yours and studies you as he waits for your fully seated comfort to kick in.

“Mmm,” his head falls back and he relaxes down into the soft blankets. “I’m sorry if I bust too quick,” he breathes out. “It’s been a while and I missed you.” 

Laughter. Because that’s a feeling coiling deeper in the pit of your being than he’s pushing into and he catches your moan as brings the long awaited friction you’ve ached for. 

“I think I’m right there with you,” you whisper against him. This shared laughter and the feeling of his chapped lips on yours are the unburdening you’ve needed for so long. Even in the so called safety of the QZ, your shoulders were heavy with the weight of grief and fear both for those that were and those that will be taken away.

This is light and restful and full of peace and happiness because he turned it all around—he came back.

He heard every word you said at his side.

“None of these,” he says against your lips, swiping at the heavy salt water tears that streak down your cheeks. “Not anymore, sweetheart, not right now. You don’t need them right now.” 

Your bodies are already tightening up against each other; working in time with each other all slow and steady movements made with intention and pulling back when necessary.

Because the intention isn’t to get off, it’s to be together and share this peace and relief together.

“I love you,” falls from his lips like a prayer, something sacred and quiet that he keeps close to his chest.

Even still, he may have said no more tears but they rush from you in body racking sobs. Because you know, of course you know, but he’s never said it. Not out loud, not like this. This isn't just a mere glimpse of a long gone, past life Joel Miller and who he used to be. This is him. That sweet and romantic boy he’s only told you about in the cover of night.

He doesn’t ask if he’s hurt you, he knows that he hasn’t. All he can do is cage you in closer; kiss you harder; hold you tighter until the broken sobs are turning back into shared moans as your involuntary movements of sadness and happiness combine to push you both over that edge.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” he exhales. “My strong, beautiful woman.” Those rough hands frame your face, thumbs swiping over the swell of your cheeks in mirrored movements. “You can relax now, baby, I’m right here.”

Every press of his lips against your face is so soft and full of everything else he’s struggling to say.

That you’re safe.

That you’re healthy.

That your daughter is both and can sleep peacefully not yet knowing what nightmares truly are.

He heard every word you said at his side and these are his answers—his reassurances. He’s here, he’s right here and he’ll fight like hell even against himself to make sure he’ll continue to be.

[boyswanna-be-her]

I made it to Colorado yesterday! I got everything all set up here. It's weird being back a third time to the same place. It's starting to feel more jobby, which is not a bad thing at all. I drove around last night and today gathering everything I need for the week so I won't constantly need to be going back and forth to town. I found a gym in the valley where I can go powerlift. the weather here is cold as fuck (30s-50s) and it's a nice change from my days of beating sun in the abortion center parking lot.

i miss bfr but only passively--not even as much as I expected to, which is not at all a reflection of them and definitely a reflection of the way I'm enjoying stability during travel. they sent me a text on my way out tuesday that made me feel like maybe they were trying to set expectations that they wouldn't be emotionally available much during this trip but that has not at ALL been the case. if anything they've seemed to be more comfortable sharing a lot more than when we're face to face.

it's like... ok, wow, this is a real relationship! bfr has done a lot of good communication since I've been on the road and shown me more care than i thought was possible when you're across the country from the other person. they've stayed up until i'm in for the night wherever i'm going, cheered me on while i drive and keep my sobriety and workout routines going, talked on the phone while i've driven or unpacked, and chosen stuff for us to stream together before I go to sleep. they've been sharing more concrete stuff about past relationships and their family and their insecurities.

apparently they very nearly bought flight from denver to jax so they could drive out with me to colorado (i'm glad they didn't take me up on it but i did say they could come with me) and they have been regretting not doing it ever since i left. in lieu of that they're actively planning road trips for the week i'll have off in june and the week i'll have off in july. they think about me so much and what i'd like to do and how they could support that, and they bring things up from WEEKS ago that i never realized they'd noticed in the first place.

i'm feeling good about me and who i am and what i'm doing in life lately. there are a lot of moving parts between working and volunteering and getting sober and being in a new relationship that has the potential to be serious and healthy. not drinking and being on the road with nowhere to go volunteer and having no one to spend time with means i have a truly absurd amount of time, but i'm not sweating it in the way that i feared i might. i guess we'll see how i'll feel when it's nine days from now and i'm stir crazy.

[bifidonut]

wow it’s been a while since I’ve done a little ask game, ty @wackmxter ✨

(apparently the app doesn't let you copy more than one line of text at a time 🥴 so now that i finally am opening my laptop this week here i am)

15Qs / 15 Mutuals

lol idk if i even have 15 (active) mutuals these days so uhhhh i'll just tag @asthma-goddess @actualhero @j1r4ch2 @uglyluckylucky and if anyone else wants to do this one go nuts, i'm not tagging more people because i'm shy 👉👈

1. Are you named after anyone?

nah my mom got my name from a baby name book in the 90s BUT what's wild is that she gave me and my brother Irish names based on the fact that she was told my grandma's birth family was Irish... which is wild because we had no proof of that until like 2 years ago when she was able to find half of my grandma's birth family thru those genetic testing family tree sites. so it's a good thing that was true because it would have been kinda weird in hindsight if we weren't

2. When was the last time you cried?

um 🧍‍♀️. like an hour ago while i was in the shower... i think i'm PMSing a little bit because it kinda came on suddenly and then i was fine lol

3. Do you have kids?

no

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

listen if you lived with my boyfriend you would too

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

hmmm idk beyond basic physical appearance stuff like height/hair color/whatever i guess maybe their sense of style and how they seem to present themselves?

6. What’s your eye color?

hazel

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

bold of you to assume those are mutually exclusive, person who wrote this initially! anyways both.

8. Any special talents?

i think i'm fairly perceptive, and i'm also good at blowing bubbles

9. Where were you born?

colorado 🏔🦌⛺

10. What are your hobbies?

scrolling on my fucking phone forever if we're being real but i also like cooking, baking, video games, listening to podcasts, and maybe someday getting back into reading

11. Have you any pets?

no

12. What sports do you play/have you played?

i played soccer for like. a year not even when i was 6 or 7. i'm a delicate flower though so sports weren't really ever my thing lol

13. How tall are you?

5' 1"

14. Favorite subject in school?

science or biology specifically in hs

15. Dream job?

been thinking about this lately... currently i work in the R&D department of a biotech company and i like it a lot for the most part, and in general i really enjoy being a research scientist but i don't think it's a job i want to be in forever... in no small part because the role i'm in now is sort of "entry" level, so you're sort of naturally expected to rise through the ranks over the years but these days it just gets harder and harder to do that without a master's degree or higher. so i think i might go back to school once i decide what kind of specialty i would want to be in and then i think settling into a more established scientist role could be nice. but honestly i also think i'd make a pretty decent lab manager since i'm insane lol. also considered pivoting into science writing for a spell because i think that could be something i could do on a part time/freelance basis if i find myself in the family way but idk.

tl;dr i currently do science and would like to keep doing science without ruining my hands by pipetting for like 40 years

[prouvaireafterdark]

Fireside Song - 3x09 Coda

Um, did you think Michael was going to say he had a heart to heart over Alex with Sanders and I wasn’t going to write something???

Also on AO3!

***

The sun has long since set by the time Michael climbs out of his lair and starts looking for the six pack he left in the back of his mini fridge. He’s cut way back on his drinking these last few months, but Alex is stuck working late and he’s got nothing better to do than crack open a beer or two in front of his fire pit. 

Once he gets the fire going, Michael collapses into one of his creaky old lawn chairs with a tired sigh and reaches out his palm, willing one of the bottles in his six pack to float up and into his grasp. The glass is cool against his skin, a welcome contrast the growing heat of the fire against his legs.

Michael stares at the flames dancing in front of him as he flicks off the cap and takes a sip, thinking of the fireplace he spotted in Alex’s living room the last time he was there. He wonders if he ever actually uses it, if maybe he should stop and pick up some firewood for him the next time he drives over. It would be nice, he thinks, for the two of them to curl up together on his couch in front of the fireplace, or, better yet, to litter the floor with pillows and blankets the way they used to in the bed of Michael’s truck when they were kids. 

He can imagine it perfectly: the firelight casting flickering shadows over Alex’s face as he lies beside him, his thigh slipping between Michael’s as he presses in close and runs his fingers through his curls. Warmth that has nothing to do with the fire spreads through him at the thought and Michael wishes more than anything that he was holding Alex in his arms right now. 

It’s amazing, really, that Michael’s spent most of the last decade not touching Alex, but now that they’re together—in a real relationship, he reminds himself with no small sense of wonder—Michael can’t fathom how he ever lived like that. Now he feels Alex’s absence like a physical thing, a tug at the center of his chest pulling him toward his other half as surely as if they were two pieces of the same console. 

It scares him as much as it thrills him. He knows that building a life with Alex is never going to be as easy as wanting it, that the path ahead of them is long and arduous. As Michael sinks deeper into his chair, he can’t help but wonder if they’ll make the journey—and how the hell he’s going to survive it if they don’t.

A door slams in the distance and Michael looks up to see Sanders exit his office. Michael waves at him with the bottle in his hand and the second the old man finishes locking up for the night he turns and crosses the yard over to him. 

“The hell are you out here brooding for?” Sanders asks as he approaches. 

“I’m not brooding,” Michael shoots back. “I’m thinking.”

“Huh,” Sanders huffs, taking a seat beside him. He reaches down to steal a beer from the six pack sitting in the dirt by Michael’s boot. “Could have fooled me.”

Michael just takes another sip of his beer. It’s warmer now than it was when he opened it, but it’s still decent.

“You got a church key lying around here?” Sanders asks, holding up his still-capped bottle. 

In lieu of a verbal response, Michael lifts his right hand off the armchair and uses his powers to flick the top of the bottle off. 

Sanders looks at the cap lying discarded in the dirt a few feet away with something like amazement on his face before he huffs a laugh and shakes his head. “Aliens.”

Michael tips his bottle at him in a salute, his lips pulling into a grin.

They sit together in silence for a moment before Sanders finally says, “So, you’re not brooding. What are you thinking about then?” 

Michael takes a deep breath before he admits, “Alex.”

“Oh, so we’re done pretending you two aren’t a thing?” Sanders asks.

Michael hides his smile against his collar. “Yeah, we’re, uh, definitely a thing now.”

“About damn time,” Sanders says, reaching over to clink the neck of his bottle against Michael’s before he takes a long pull of his beer. 

“Tell me about it,” Michael laughs before Sanders words really catch up with him. “Wait—how long have you even known about us?”

Sanders looks up as he thinks about it before he answers, “You remember that summer you got your Airstream and started parking out here so you’d be closer to work?” 

“That was nine years ago,” Michael says, more than a little stunned. He’d assumed Sanders had watched them interact sometime over the last two years or so, when Alex was back in Roswell for good and they’d been spending more and more time together.

Sanders gives him a deadpan stare as he says, “I’m sorry, did you think you were being discreet when you shoved him up against the side of your trailer in broad daylight and—?”

“You know what?” Michael interrupts suddenly, a flush beginning to form on his cheeks as he remembers where that sentence is headed. “Nevermind. Forget I asked.”

Sanders snickers beside him and takes another sip of his beer before he asks, “So what’s the matter then?”

“What do you mean?” Michael asks. 

“I’ve known you a long time, kid,” Sanders says. “You don’t sit out here like this if there’s not something going on in that head of yours. You wanna stop playing dumb and tell me what it is?”

Michael takes a deep breath. “Alex and I are having our first date tomorrow night.”

“You nervous?” Sanders guesses.

Michael nods, shifting his grip on the bottle in his hand. “We don’t exactly have a great track record when it comes to communication. As good as things are right now… I’m worried we’re gonna fall into old patterns and fuck it all up.”

Sanders is quiet for a moment, his chin caught between his fingers in apparent thought before he finally asks, “Do you love him?” 

“More than anything,” Michael says automatically, the words almost spilling out of him.

“Then you’ll be fine,” Sanders says with a confidence Michael can’t understand.

“How can you possibly know that?” he asks.

“You love that piece of shit truck you drive, right?” Sanders asks, jerking his thumb in its direction across the lot.

 “Of course I do,” Michael scoffs, mildly offended. That truck’s been with him through so much—Hell, once upon a time it was even his home.

He’s about to tell him off for insulting his baby like that when Sanders continues, “Well, say you’re driving to Colorado to bring an old friend of yours a mysterious package he tells you not to open—“

“Is this a true story?” Michael asks, an amused quirk to his lips.

“Yes, now shut the hell up,” Sanders says, making Michael laugh as he continues, “Anyway, say you’re driving along and all of a sudden your engine breaks. Are you gonna just abandon your truck on the side of the road and start hitchhiking?”

“No,” Michael says. “I’d tow it back here and fix it.”

“Exactly,” Sanders says, as if Michael has already proven his point. “You love that piece of junk, you’re not gonna just walk away from it. You’re gonna find a way to make it purr again.”

Michael gets what he’s saying, but he can’t help but point out, “Engines can break beyond repair, Sanders.”

“Sure,” he concedes. “If you don’t take care of them.”

Michael thinks about that for a beat, long enough for Sanders to continue, “Look, I ain’t sayin’ it’ll be easy, but when you hit a rough patch, don’t just call it quits. Talk to him. Find a way to—”

“Make him purr?” Michael jokes.

“If that’s what you’re into,” Sanders says.

Michael shakes his head in amusement, his heart lighter than before. The old man’s right, he thinks—He loves Alex more than anything. He’ll do whatever it takes to keep him.

“Thanks, Sanders,” he says, smiling down the neck of his beer bottle. 

“Don’t mention it,” Sanders says, waving him off. “Just make sure there’s an open bar at your wedding, okay?”

Michael laughs sharply at that. “Yeah, okay,” he says, his stomach flipping over as he thinks about it. “I think I can make that happen.”

[docholligay]

NOW WE ARE TO THE “MORE ON THIS LATER”

So I did not realize until I was talking to verb about her wedding that the UK* is SO INCREDIBLY AUTOCRATIC about weddings. Holy shit, oh my god.

So in America, it varies based on what state you’re in because the states all have a lot of individual power--it’s actually not terribly UNLIKE how countries work in the UK but I digress--but by and large you have a fair amount of freedom. In, I think every state in the union, an ordained person can marry you, a judge can marry you, and in some getting ordained is like..sending a letter. It’s basically a test to see if you can fill out paperwork. I am ordained in Colorado and Montana because I’ve done weddings for people. In my state, you can even self-solemnize, which means if you have witnesses you do not NEED a fucking officiant (this buckwild rural take is v uncommon even in the US. Only I think...three western states allow it?)

Anyway, even in the most serious state, there doesn’t have to be a script. I mean, an individual religious institution can make a script that someone has to follow if they want to be married in that specific religious institution, and I suppose a venue could say something like, “If you use the fucking Corinthians quote there is an automatic $2,000 upcharge” (It’s me. I am this venue.) All of the Americans in the audience are currently going, “Why the fuck are you rehashing all this?”

Because I discovered that TIS NOT SO IN THE KINGDOM THAT IS AT LEAST FOR THE MOMENT UNITED.

So Verb got married, and it is when we are chatting about this that I discover that apparently there is a whole fucking PROCEDURE in the UK, with SO MANY RULES, which I will not bore you with but caused my jaw to drop open, and still to this day, sometimes I think about and it smacks me in the face like a dead mackerel. This includes a very serious attitude toward the vows, including the fact that if you aren’t going to have a fully religious ceremony, YOU CANNOT MENTION GOD AT ALL. It is an actual honest to God The Royal Kingdom rule. I would have to look up her email in order to get more details from it, but basically personalization** has to be kept to a very much minimum, and short.

All this to say, other than to share my shock and horror as a person used to the “YOLO” approach to ceremonies, that...I mean, the ceremonies aren’t that different. I guess I’m assuming this is Church of England, so I could be massively incorrect here. But PRESUMABLY at some point along the way, you read the required verbiage. If it’s that common y’all must have it quasi-memorized by now. I’m not saying you can’t have an opposition to this I’m saying a few months before the wedding is a real ROUGH time to be doing it.

As it turns out, my other objection is solved by them just doing it in the registrar’s office, which is that in England at least the venue has to be WEDDING APPROVED by the government. I have no fucking idea how an officiant could be defrocked, shall we say, by the mere impropriety of someone’s backyard, but it is England after all, we’ve been doing it this way for 352 years why stop now. But I DO have a solution: Just...get married legally first, alone, and then have your religious wedding***.  I guess this requires the priest/pastor whatever to be cool and okay with just not signing the papers but like, who the fuck cares. And then I remember that I come from a country that has, AT LEAST PRESENTLY, separation of church and state, and I recall verb and cockatiel signed in front of everyone where that’s not a very common thing here, so, maybe this won’t work as flawlessly as I’m imagining.

ANYWAY MY POINT IS: YOU SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT OF THIS SO MUCH SOONER.

*Based on cursory curiosity-based searches, Scotland appears to be more freewheeling than England and Wales, but less freewheeling than every state in the US.

**You mention the UK ONCE, and the autocheck tries to get cute with the letter s. I have never realiSed a thing in my life, computer

*** this is what my wife and I did, not for religious reasons but for the fact that the law against same sex marriage was struck down and we didn’t want a challenge to it to stop us. We were actually the first couple married in our county.

[eri-blogs-life]

Today in Eri’s Adventure In The Mojave, I:

- Got killed. A lot of times.

- Met Veronica. She seems like a really cool companion! The ability to make workbench stuff just, like, whenever? That’s huge for me, as an energy weapons player, holy shit.

- Took a nice, peaceful stroll down the Colorado

- Veronica got killed. Fuck.

- I broke my way in to Cottonwood Cove, and then The Fort. I killed a lot of named Legion characters who I know fuck-all about. I killed Caesar. It was a tough, hard-fought battle, but ultimately I won out.

- I let Benny go, to run away to the ends of the earth for all I care. He may have killed me once, but... Wait, in retrospect he did in fact do the whole killing-me thing. He seems so fucking useless by the time he gets captured by Caesar that I just like kinda forgot he did fucking shoot me in the head for no real reason other than I guess because I had a thing he wanted? Then again I do that all the time apparently lol. I stole so much shit from the Legion’s base. I mean, I had SOME ideological reasons to do it I guess... Anyway now I’ve killed both House and Caesar. :thumbsup:

[snowgoldwaylon]

You Call That Sneaky?? - Dimitri Belikov X Reader

Not all goes as planned when Y/N and Belikov fly the bird.

TW: Strong language, use of gunship/death.

"Belikov, we need covering fire!" is what you heard come through his comms attached to his collar. It was Adler, they were in a pretty tight place. You quickly pulled the missiles online and hit "launch sequence" on the AC-31 Gunship.

Belikov flipped some switches, pulled back on the yoke and held it steady. He looked back at you and gave the nod. You quickly got on the radios to let them know the danger.

"Y/N to Adler, danger close. I repeat danger close. AC-31 out!" You warned them.

You set off the first round of just bullets, and quickly switched to bursts of incendiary rounds.

"Shot out!" You called, hitting a direct target.

The place was practically crawling with enemies, and you needed to clear extraction to bring the team up. They originally came here to collect some potential information regarding Robert Aldrich.

You needed to take him out because he was leaking sensitive information to Perseus, and his trail went cold after Bell was able to crack his spy ring.

So, of course hotshot Adler loaded himself, Woods, and Mason up and hauled their cookies all the way to the Border of Colorado.

They snuck around, maintaining stealth. You and Belikov controlled the bird, and flew around for sweep and cover protection. But, as they snuck up on a meeting, it was all revealed.

Turns out, it was a set up. And it really pissed off Frank. It pissed him off so much, he ended up losing his temper, and reached for a conveniently well place grenade launcher.

To sum it up, Frank fucked up. Because now the three man dream team went up against well over 200 enemies. So, here you were. You layed multiple rounds out until slowly but surely all the white in the thermal sights faded.

"We are clear Belikov! We are heading to the Southeast ridge, hooking up there!" Mason said into the radio.

"We got you guys, don't even worry. Y/N here will keep you safe!" Belikov said, looking over at you and winking.

You felt yourself blush, and quickly turned back to the controls.

"Well, looks like Woods owes all of us a drink after this shit show. You are sleeping on the couch tonight!" Adler yelled.

"Hey fuck you, I'll sleep there with your mom!" Frank retorted.

Man, the conversations between them never got old. You loved the time spent with the team.

You and Belikov pulled the helicopter over the ridge, where the team was going to hook up. You got up from the cockpit, and readied three a long, safety rope with three hookup points for the boys.

You dropped it over and it fell. You watched as they all attached, and you hit the botton for the rope to start slowly retracting.

You made sure they got in one by one, for the safety of everyone. You went back up to the co pilot seat and strapped in.

"Belikov, we are clear! Boys, headphones on!" You shouted.

They all put the headphones on, and started to relax a little.

"Good job as my helper today, Y/N. Soon, you'll be able to fly by yourself. And when that day comes, you'll feel so full and accomplished you'll burst! And that'll be the day I take you out for party." Belikov said, flashing you a dazzling smile.

"Well thank you, Dimitri. And you better! We've talked about this since I first started flying!" You said, Watching the skys.

"Of course, anything for you. You are amazing in everyway possible." He winked at you.

You felt like you were in a daze, until you heard a familiar, yet worrying ding. You immediately sighed, knowing exactly what that ding met.

"Fuck, of course! Dimitri I thought you said you filled up before we left!" You said.

Belikov shot you a "oh shit I completely forgot face" and shrugged.

"The beauty of Adler's face had me distracted. I must have forgotten." He said.

"Finally, someone that appreciates this handsome face." Adler mumbled to himself.

"Well, what now? We'll never make it past the summit if we don't fuel up!" Mason cried.

You turned, looking back at them.

"What happens now, is either Dimitri or I have to go outside and hang off the ledge. While doing that, one of us will have to quickly connect the emergency fuel so it can atleast get us back to a drop zone." You spoke calmly, turning to him.

"But, since Belikov did it last time, it's my turn. I will go do this real quick, prepare for a stop at a fueling station. It looks like I'm reading one about 20 clicks North." You said, slipping on gear.

"Y/N, are you sure about this? I can do it while you fly, come now. Don't be stupid, nyet!" Belikov said.

You looked back, and gave him a thumbs up.

"No, I can do it. It's only fair, don't worry I got this. It'll be quick and easy!" You said, slipping an emergency parachute on just in case.

Adler, Woods, and Mason all watched as you geared up, stepping towards the opening of the heli.

"Y/N, your fuckin' nuts. Do you need any help?" Woods questioned.

You looked back at him, and nodded yes. He got up and came over to you.

"I need you to hold onto my feet until I tell you to let go. I need to start off with a good grip, or else I'll go splat." You said.

He nodded, and you went prone. You hung halfway out, and grabbed onto the support handles. Woods grabbed your feet and secured you.

You clipped your belt to the safety clamp and gave Woods a 'hold steady' hand signal. But, to him it apparently looked like a thumbs up. So, out of routine, he carefully let your feet go.

Immediately, the strong winds pulled your body out of the side, and left you hanging by your harness. The wind whipped and slashed at your skin like tiny, ice cold daggers as you desperately tried to reach for the handles.

Everyone on board started freaking out. Belikov went to make an emergency landing, but there were too many trees. He looked and looked for the best spot possible, and finally spotted a clearing.

You were screaming, yelling and crying. You felt the harness behind to tick and tear. It was going to bust at the seams at any moment, and you were still in the air.

You hung from the clip in the middle of your chest, trying to use your feet to kick back to the side.

Adler was trying to reach you with his arm, but it wasn't happening. You were just out of reach by a few feet. You were out of options.

"Y/N!!! Hang on, we almost have you!!" Mason shouted, quickly throwing together a rope to secure you with.

"What the hell did you do idyot?? I can't land, we are right over Soviet territory!" Belikov wretched out.

He dropped lower to land, but not fast enough. By time he dropped almost enough, is when your harness finally tore straight in half. The clip broke from the force, and you dropped straight down, backwards.

You screamed as you felt the force of the fall practically crush you. You were able to turn to your stomach, and quickly reach for the string used for the parachute.

You fumbled to find out, but when you did you yanked. Relief swept over you when it deployed, and slowly descended down to a platform.

"Her chute deployed, but it's heading straight to the middle of that warehouse it looks like!" Mason yelled.

Belikov channeled your radio, worry racing through him.

"Y/N? Y/N can you hear this? If so, I landed just a few clicks West of you. This is heavily guarded compound!" Belikov spoke into it.

You landed with a thud, and you quickly switched it on, ripping off the vest. You quickly took cover behind a fallen log, looking all around at your surroundings.

"I can see, and that little stunt just sent out a whole fucking search party. They have dogs, please tell me you have a plan." You said, finally throwing the vest to the ground.

Adler came on the radio next.

"Y/N, the best thing for you to do is to try and sneak around to the West side of the compound. We are going to push to you so you'll be safe. Do NOT draw any attention to you. Meet me at the blue warehouse." Was what he said.

"Blue warehouse, got it." Was all you said, clicking it off. You reached for a sharp looking rock you found on the ground, and got up to slowly look around.

You determined the best path to the warehouse, and set off. You were hurt, scared, and shaking. You could feel the adrenaline move through your body, and you almost couldn't think.

You weren't mad at Woods, you knew it was an accident. But right now.....All you wanted was to be in the arms of Dimitri Belikov. You decided now, after you got back to the heli you were going to say how you felt.

You were ready, and nearly dying really helped you decide. You just hoped he felt the same way.

Meanwhile, back with Belikov he was ready to kill. He assembled his trusty AK-47 and was ready to full send it to you. His heart was in a panic, he felt like he was going to have a heart attack.

"Belikov, Y/N is going to be just find. Adler will go get her, and then you'll get us home. Everything will work out, I promise." Mason said, trying to get Belikov to calm down.

Belikov looked to Mason with tears in his eyes. He couldn't stand the though of you out there, alone with no weapon. But knowing you, he knew you found something. That's what he loved about you, and many other things.

"I know, but she is worth a lot to me. I love her." Belikov sobbed.

Mason picked up on his distress, and he opened his arms for Belikov.

Belikov accepted the hug, and Mason patted his back.

"This will be over in a few minutes. Adler and Y/N will be back in no time, I promise." Was what Mason said.

Meanwhile, Frank fueled up the heli. The plan was to pick you up, and book it back home. Nobody wanted to be here more than they had to be.

Back with you, you approached a small fire. Around the fire was a few enemies, asleep. One was in a chair, the other on the ground, and the last against a barrell, hat pulled over his eyes.

You went to step around the group and take a right, but you smacked right into the frame of an old truck. This ended up setting off the panic alarm. You dove behind another old car and held still, as you heard them all shoot up from slumber.

You heard guns cock, and your heart sank. You swallowed hard, and leaned your head back against a car, looking up. They all started looking around, you heard the footsteps.

You fully accepted that you were doing to die. How the hell were you supposed to fight four people off with a sharp rock, while they had full automatic weapons.

You felt no hope, until you saw familiar sunglasses. Adler sat up on the ridge above you, waving you to follow him. Your eyes went wide, but you moved when he signaled.

That was, until you ran right into a person. You looked up at him, and he began to yell in Russian. He pulled his gun on you, but you tackled him quickly. You subdued him somehow, and grabbed his AK.

But you and Adler both spotted a flare in the distance. The screaming of the base alarm system filled your ears.

"Y/N, let's go! Just run, we are right up here!" Adler yelled, taking your hand.

You both sprinted full speed up the ridge side, with the entire army base on your heels. Adler radioed in, and finally you saw the heli in the distance.

"Be ready to go! We have the entire base on our ass, we're about 100 feet from you!" Is what Adler shouted.

You heard the blades begin to spin, it was ready to go. You both gave it all you had ad bullets zipped and flew past your head at incredible speed.

You came to the last few steps, and booked it. You both dove into the side, and Mason slammed it closed. The helicopter took off at full speeds, while bullets hit the side, making a panging sound.

You huffed and puffed on the ground, completely spread out. You suddenly felt arms around you, and a head in your neck.

It was Belikov, you recognized his smell from anywhere. You looked at him, lifting his face. You gave him a big smile and wiped his tears away.

"Hey its alright, I'm here. I'm safe, thanks to Doc." You chuckled.

Belikov took your face in his hands, and tucked your stray hair away.

"I thought I lost you. Y/N, I love you. I realized that tonight, after thinking you were dead. I always have, and will." He said, a tear falling from his eye.

You choked up, and rested your forehead against his. Your hand stroked his face, as you leaned in.

"And the same as I, Dimitri. Now, kissing me you fool." You said with a laugh.

You locked lips. It felt like fireworks and sparklers went off in your brain. It was everything you ever wanted.

After pulling away from the kiss, Belikov pulled you to his chest, and held you there all the way back. He looked down at you, and lost it laughing.

"What's so funny huh?" You questioned.

"No offense Y/N but, you call that sneaky? Tripping right into an enemy?"

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Home Bound (Part 3)

Summary: Dean has finally moved out with Sam to Lawrence and is beginning to move on for himself when a chance coincidence changes everything for him...

Masterlist

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 2,100ish

Warnings: language, angst, injury, mention of character death, mourning, supernatural events

A/N: Written entirely in Dean’s POV. Enjoy the final part!

______

Two Months Later

“Hey,” I said, popping into the kitchen in Lawrence to see Sam and Eileen both eating greasy breakfasts. “Hangover?”

Eileen nodded and squeezed her eyes shut, Sam giving me a careful look. We’d only moved out the week before and he was still watching my every move carefully. 

“A bit. We got plenty of bacon left over,” said Sam.

“Nah. I’m gonna run into town and get some coffee, see if I can find out if any garages or construction crews are hiring,” I said.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I shouldn’t be gone more than a few hours. Want me to pick up anything?” I asked. They shook their heads and I grabbed my keys from the front table. Sam stood up as I put on my jacket and I watched him from down the hall. “Yeah?”

“There’s a garage over on Henderson. Small place. They got an opening,” he said.

“I’ll check it out,” I said. “I’ll be back by lunch.”

Ten minutes later I was parked on a side street and walking along main, hands in my black winter coat Samson had shipped back to me. Sammy had been right on that front. Back when the leviathans were trouncing around with our faces on, his parents had shown him that was the Winchester boy apparently. He said his sister was doing good and he was planning to come out soon to get to know her again. They talked most days and she was staying with her parents, not too terribly far away. He had a sneaking suspicion that she’d snapped and killed the man that took her but the evidence pointed to a home intruder that had hit her on the head and that’s what was causing the memory loss. 

I told him I’d look into it if he wanted but at the moment he was simply happy to have her safe again. And that I was keeping the coat. 

At least I’d convinced him to let me buy him a drink when he did come out for a visit.

I tugged up my collar as a light snow filtered down on the March day and spotted the coffee shop that apparently had the best pie in town. God, I hadn’t had pie in months and I was so looking forward to bringing some home.

It was around nine so the morning rush was gone when I stepped inside, the little bell going off. A few people were eating pastries and sipping on drinks at the tables but there was no line and I walked right up to the counter, taking a look to find something called cinnamon death pie on the menu. Well that was definitely on the list.

“What can I get you?” asked the girl in the baseball cap, her back to me as she wiped up some spilled coffee from the back counter. The voice sounded so familiar and I stared at her, looking her over. She stood and turned around with a smile, my eyes wide. “Coffee? Baked good? It’s all fresh.”

“Y/N?” I said and she smiled again.

“That’s what my name tag says. Wow, you are really attractive,” she said. I kept staring and she shook her head. “I’m sorry, that was...what can I get you?”

“Dean. It’s Dean,” I said. She grabbed an empty cup and jotted down my name at the top, glancing at me. She looked happy and warm and she had no idea who I was. “Um. Black coffee. I’ll take a blueberry and cinnamon death pie to go too.”

“Full pies each?” she asked, marking off the cup.

“Yeah,” I said with a thick swallow.

“The death pie is the bomb. It’s so good on cold wet days like today,” she said. She put in the order and I watched her get my coffee together. Someone brought out two boxed pies in a bag and set it on the front counter. She brought back the coffee and hummed. “Alright. That’ll be fifteen dollars even.”

“Thanks,” I said, handing out the money. I stuffed a fifty in the tip jar and her jaw practically dropped.

“Sir, that’s too much.”

“Take it. Go to school. Buy a house. Go on vacation. Just...be happy,” I said. I grabbed my things and left, ducking out the front door. I skirted around to the alley and leaned against the brick. “Fuck.”

“Dean,” she said. She was standing there in her waist apron and a t shirt, getting soaked and goosebumps covering her arms. 

“Just take the tip,” I said, trying to head down the alley when she caught up and grabbed my arm.

“Before...I thought you knew who I was. You know, the Whiltiston girl that was kidnapped,” she said. 

“What?” I said.

“I know. But...you ever just meet someone and you just have a connection? Some part of you just knows that’s the one? I know I sound nuts but the way you looked at me back there...maybe you understand what I mean,” she said.

Shit. Fucking shit. Exactly what I wanted was right in front me. When I’d finally, finally, just started to have a glimmer of not feeling like crap all the time. My first day out and of course she’s there all happy with a real family and having no idea all the horrible things she’d been through. I’d have to push her away and fast.

“Lady. You’re nuts,” I said. She frowned and bit the inside of her cheek like she did when she was upset and didn’t want anyone to know.

“I know it sounds crazy but you sounded like you knew me or something. I don’t know. I just want to talk to you for five minutes. Please. I don’t remember a lot of stuff so well. I do but there’s all these gaps. It’s like I know you. I don’t but I do. Do you understand?”

Her shirt was soaked through now and she was shaking a bit. I’d have to be mean if I wanted her gone, wanted her to forget the fuck about me.

“No,” I said, stepping up and getting right in her face. “I think you’re crazy. I don’t blame you for whatever it was that you went through but that’s not how the real world is. You’re delusional and you need serious help.”

Her eyes watered a bit and she swallowed.

“I am not crazy. I have head trauma but I am sane. I don’t even show signs of PTSD that’s how little I remember of whatever was done to me. You’re just a cruel person who wants everyone else to be as miserable as you are.”

“Fuck you,” I said. She glared at me and I knew I’d made a mistake. She was still upset but now she was pissed and for Y/N that meant no backing down. “Listen. I-”

She grabbed my collar and kissed me. Hard. After a split second it softened and she moved away, staring at me. I blinked and then she was pounding her fist against my chest.

“What the fuck is wrong with you! You were just gonna leave me here!” she said, hitting me a few times before she was kissing me again. She slid her hand down and rested her head against me, taking deep breaths. “Dean Winchester I could kick your ass right now.”

“You remember?” I asked. She nodded and looked at me. I squeezed her way too tight, hearing the gasp of air escape her as I picked her up. I set her down after a moment, shaking my head at her.

“How…” I said and she smiled.

“You know my evil parents? Apparently the witch that gave them those powers or taught them at least...she put a little curse on them. If they used their powers to harm a child and that child died before them, they’d die not too long after. A few months was all. When my old piece of shit father croaked, I came back very confused. We know that witch, De. Red head. Queen of Hell. We might be friends with her and she always was leery of people hurting kids I guess so Ro had my back I guess. I think she did magic so I wouldn’t say anything on accident to the cops.”

“So you’re okay?” I asked.

“Oh, I’m livid with you for nearly walking away from me but I’ll get over it,” she said. She shivered and I set the bag and coffee down on the ground, taking off my jacket and tugging it over her. “I like your coat.”

“Your brother gave it to me.”

“You know Sunny?” you asked. I cocked my head and she smiled. “Samson? We call him Sunny cause son.”

“Yeah. He picked me up when I woke up in the middle of Colorado. We never did quite figure out why I came back or why there.”

“It’s not a coincidence my brother was the one who happened to find you,” she said.

“No, I don’t think so either.”

“When did you come back?”

“January 8th, about midnight. I had a dislocated shoulder.”

“I dislocated my shoulder that night. I slipped on some ice when I was coming home from a late dinner with my parents. You know it took the fake dad two months to die after I had. January 8th was two months exactly after I came back.”

“You think I came back because you did?”

“I don’t know. Apparently I can still tell you’re my person even with no memories. It’s sounding more likely. We can always ask Rowenna.”

“Yes, dearie,” she said, suddenly beside us both. Y/N jumped into my side and I wrapped my arms around her. “Sorry. If I’d known...I’m a different witch now. You’re both fine. You could have called though Winchester and I would have cleared this up. Also, that smells delicious and I’m taking it.”

She bent down and took the pies before disappearing, Y/N starting to giggle.

“She took my pie!” I said.

“She did kind of bring us both back,” said Y/N. “Come on. I’ll get you some more.”

She grabbed my hand and walked me back inside, ducking behind the counter in the back. Ten minutes later she walked out with three pie boxes, her coat on and mine tucked under her arm.

“I told them I’m not feeling well,” she said, handing me the coat. I put it on and took the bag in one hand, using the other to take her hand. We walked down the street aways until we got back to Baby and she slid in the passenger seat. “There’s forks in the bag too.”

“Come here,” I said as I sat down behind the wheel, setting the bag in the back for the moment. I moved over and pulled her into my lap, brushing off a bit of melting snow from her cheek. “Don’t go away again.”

“You were ready to walk away not ten minutes ago.”

“Because I thought you’d be better off not knowing about everything you’d been through,” I said. She smiled, that soft little smile that always made me feel better.

“Some parts were bad. But it wasn’t all terrible. Some parts were really, really good,” she said. She kissed my cheek and bumped her nose to mine. “I’ll take it all if it means I get to love you again. I don’t want to ever forget that I love you, Dean.”

“Me either,” I said, holding onto her tight. “I don’t know what we’re gonna do now but you’re not going anywhere.”

“Good,” she said. She was quiet, tucking her face in my neck and I smiled for the first time in months. She was happy and safe and mine again. “Want to drive to the park and eat pie in the backseat like we used to on rainy days?”

“Absolutely, sweetheart. That sounds like the best day ever. I’m so happy you came home to me.”

“Me too, Dean. Me too.”

________

[smol-and-grumpy]

Light My Fire - Epilogue

Pairing: CEO!Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: She always thought her boss was an ill-tempered man, but when he presents her with a proposition she can’t quite deny, she gets to know him better. It’s not bad, right? Because all she has to do is being fake married to him for six months, sounds do-able, right? Right.

Warnings: It’s so fluffy it’ll maybe rot your teeth, NSFW

WC: 1801

A/N: So, this is definitely the end of the road. I’m so happy that you’re here with me and read this story to the end. I hope it was a good one for you! Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons​​​​​​​​​​​ <3

SERIES MATSTERLIST

BECOME A PATRON ~ BUY ME A COFFEE

She had moved back on the same day, and into his bed that same night. She still kept her room but Dean was okay with that. She mostly sleeps there when he comes home late. Dean would then go in and take her back into his bed. He has perfected his techniques and now she doesn’t even stir when he scoops her up and carries her back into his bed. Their bed. 

It’s true that she kept the room as hers but she had moved all her clothes into his room by the time they annulled their marriage. 

It was never an option for her to stop working for him. But she stayed as his PA and they hired someone else to help with Ruby’s load of work. Their relationship had never been questioned by his staff. Dean thinks that he can count himself lucky for having great and loyal employees. He got his temper under control, too. He only fired one person in the last three months which is a huge improvement.

The marriage with Amara was a piece of cake. After Amara got wind of the existence of the tape, she was quick to agree for the annulment and Dean could even get money out of her. Serves her right, really. He used the money to give his employees a big bonus. 

They have gotten over the initial pregnancy scare too. Turned out that she was indeed just stressed. He was a little disappointed, couldn’t lie about it, but she was happy so there’s that. He’d like to have kids one day, and especially with her. Dean knows that she wants kids too, but not right now. He hopes that she wants kids with him, though. 

Dean really didn’t give up on asking her to be his real wife. He would drop it in the weirdest times. It’s a game he plays and he actually enjoys it. He has gotten her another ring. Doesn’t want to ask her with the same ring they already sealed their fake marriage with, it just didn’t seem right.

 *

 The first time he popped the question was after they were fake husband and wife and only girlfriend and boyfriend. She was sitting in the tub when he came back from work because he still worked longer than she did. Dean peeled himself out of his clothes to join her, “Do you wanna marry me?” He’d asked before he sits in the tub and grabs her by her arm to place her onto his lap.

“No,” She giggled and he buried his face into the crook of her neck, sucked at her skin until she moaned a yes but it’s not the answer, he knew.

 *

 The fourth time he asked her to be his wife, Y/N was lying on the couch when he walked in after a long working day. She was reading a book and she was wearing one of his shirts and only panties and that did things to him. Especially when half her ass cheeks poked out of it. He looked and smirked before he walked over to the drawer with food delivery leaflets. He held the leaflets in his hand and looked over to her before he asked, “Do you want to marry me or shall we order in food?”

Laughing, she said no, and that she wanted pizza with pineapples.

 *

 The ninth time Dean asked her was at work. He came out of a meeting and walked past her desk, dropping off his notes for her to put down on paper. She was so lost in her work that she didn’t even notice him standing next to her, so he lowered himself with one hand braced on her chair and whispered into her ear, “Do you want to marry me?”

She rolled her eyes but she kissed his cheek. It was enough fuel to get into the next meeting. 

 *

 The twelfth time he asked her was when she was laying between his thighs and he had spread them for her to be able to reach his rim. He was there, held up his legs by the back of his knees and looked down. He would have loved to take a picture if his hand were free. 

His balls are heavy on her nose, his dick, hard and leaking, was resting over half her face. It was a sight to behold, and in that moment his heart felt so full so he whispered, “Do you want to marry me?”

She ignored him and continued licking at his rim and sucked in his balls that made him choke on his own words.

 *

 The seventeenth time that he popped the question was while they were in a meeting together. They listened to Garth's new idea on office improvements and she was typing away on her laptop when he sent her an email, “Please be my wife?”

Y/N frowned, her lips pulled into a thin straight line before she clicked on her mouse and soon his phone vibrated. Dean took it out and thumbs over her email of Michael Scott from The Office screaming No meme.

 *

 The twenty-third time Dean had asked her, they were having dinner with Jack and he had told the waiter to put the ring in her glass. What Dean hadn’t accounted for,  was that the waiter would be so dumb and mix up their glasses. So when Jack drank his champagne he had the ring in his mouth, and damn near choked on it. Y/N had stomach cramps from laughing too hard.

But hey, Jack said yes and they’re planning a spring wedding. 

Jack is a great guy. Dean’s glad that he took Jack on a fishing trip back in Jamaica. Jack was so hostile towards him and Dean just knew that he had to pour his heart out to Jack to get him to understand that he was never just in it for the fake marriage. It meant so much more to him. Thinking back, it needed a lot of courage from Dean to do so. Jack didn’t speak for an agonizing long time and it was while they were on the boat and Dean had almost gotten sea sick than he started to speak the truth. 

Jack smirked when he saw that the blood had drained from Dean’s face.

“Do you like fishing?” Jack had asked him.

“Yeah but from the shore.” Dean answered, trying not do fucking puke. 

Jack laughed at him but apparently, the trip had helped cement their friendship.

 *

 The twenty-ninth time he asked was when he ate her out and she moaned yes yes above him. He paused and mumbled against her wet cunt, “You wanna marry me?”

She came right on the spot but not without moaning out something that sounded awfully like fuck no.

 *

 The thirty-third time Dean asked, was when they spent a weekend away at a secluded cabin in Colorado. 

That’s another thing that Dean loves about her. When things get too stressful, she always made sure that he took a break and she planned trips that should take his mind off work. She feared that he’ll overwork himself, which is not entirely wrong.

So when they were roasting marshmallows over a fire, he wrapped his arm around her, and asked her if she wanted to be his wife. 

She didn’t answer, instead she said, “You’re not going to give up, do you?” 

He smiled down and kissed her forehead, “Nope.”

 *

 The thirty-eight time Dean popped the question was during a game night of pictionary with Sam and Ruby and her brother. Yeah that’s right, Sam never let Ruby go again. Dean swears, if they marry before him...

Dean drew a ring onto the board with a question mark and instead of answering right, she just said “Lord of the Rings?”

Even Jack grew a little annoyed at her and screamed that she should fucking say yes already.

 *

 The forty-fifth time he asked, they were at a concert and she stood before him, his hands around her waist as she leaned her head against his chest. He placed a kiss on the crown of her head, “Do you want to marry me?”

The one girl next to them gasped loudly and she pushed her boyfriend out of the way, thinking that Dean needed room to go on his knees. They had to laugh and explain that his girlfriend is not saying yes, so there’s no worry. The woman was embarrassed and Dean took Y/N’s hand to move further back. 

 *

 The fifty-second time Dean asked, was when he came home from a work trip. It didn’t go very well so he was kind of down. He found her in the guest bedroom, sleeping on her side and Dean scooped her up, carried her into their bed and left to take a shower. 

When he came back, she was partially awake. And it’s like she knew because she opened her arms for him to crawl in. He placed his head on her chest, letting her stroke his head. 

“Please be my wife?” He’d asked, but there’s no answer. Her heart beat slow, she was already asleep.

 *

 The fifty-third time he asked, was the next day right after the fifty-second time. Dean spooned her from behind, rained kisses onto her shoulder and neck, she stirred awake, “I really wish you’d say yes.”

It was not really a question. Just a statement.

“Okay,” She said and Dean’s heart picked up speed.

“Okay?” He asked again, just to be sure.

“Yes,” She turned around in his grip and cradled his face between the palms of her hand, “I’m saying yes,” 

Dean kissed her while smiled like a fucking idiot, held her tighter, “Fucking finally,” he mumbles against her lips.

  They married in a small ceremony with just the closest of people and no press, because he still took her out to social events and they all thought she was his wife anyway. It’s easier that way. It feels more real. 

Sam and Jack were both his best men while Ruby resumed her position as a bridesmaid. 

Dean didn’t make a prenup; it's his way to piss off his parents. It’s the right decision, he thinks. Y/N never once asked him for money. She hates being dependent on him and sometimes there were petty fights when she wouldn’t allow him to buy her something. However, she let him pay for Jack’s tuition and that is progress. 

Like Dean said before, he would give her the world and so much more but she’s happy as it is and that’s the most important thing actually, because he’s happy too when she’s happy. He’s less grumpy, less hot headed and, that’s not a lie nor an exaggeration, he’s the happiest he’s ever been.

[365days365movies]

May 1, 2021: The Prestige (2006) (Recap: Part One)

What’s that old Arthur C. Clarke quote again?

Not that one, although that’s...that’s fantastic, and I need to know more context to that conversation. But no, no, not that. The other one.

Not that one, although that’s...horrifying. Let me explain something first, then. Clarke was the author of the classic science-fiction novel 2001: A Space Odyssey, which definitely didn’t go on to become one of the most widely regarded films of all time. Anyway, he was a big-shot in science fiction, and was even knighted for his prominence in pop culture in the UK and across the world.

Fellow famous sci-fi author Isaac Asimov is well known for three rules of robotics, but Clarke has three rules of his own. A futurist, his laws describe conjecture about scientific development in the future of out societies. Those laws are:

When a distinguished but elderly scientist states that something is possible, he is almost certainly right. When he states that something is impossible, he is very probably wrong.

The only way of discovering the limits of the possible is to venture a little way past them into the impossible.

Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.

Magic, huh?

God, I love Weird Al. Anyway, as a child of the ‘90s, I am well-acquainted with the boom of stage magicians that appeared during that time, and during the early 2000s. David Copperfield made the Statue of Liberty disappear, David Blaine coughed up a live frog, Criss Angel freaked minds; lot of stuff back then.

And yet, despite other recent magicians like Penn and Teller or Dynamo, the greatest age of stage magic isn’t even CLOSE to the 90′s. No, no, to really see magic in its heyday, we need to go back to the late 1800s and early 1900s, to the days of the stage illusionist. 

Obviously, the first person that comes to mind is Harry Houdini, a man whose feats have lasted the test of time, and may have led to his death. Not only did he get buried alive, not only did he escape from a straitjacket in chains underwater, NOT ONLY did he hold his breath inside a water-filled milk can inside of a wooden chest repeatedly for FOUR YEARS, but he was also the greatest enemy of spiritualists and mediums everywhere!

Yeah, despite being a stage magician, Houdini was OBSESSED with exposing those who claimed to be actually supernatural. After all, as a showman, he was interesting in exposing tricks that were meant to defraud the innocent public. Dude was awesome, is what I’m saying. He died from a burst appendix, which miiiiight have been caused by a student who punched him in the stomach after asking if he was actually resistant to abdominal damage. Yeah, not a great death. And he wasn’t the only illusionist to die of tragic circumstances, but that’s a discussion for another day. Because of this is sci-fi month...why am I talking about magic? Well...imagine a lighter.

Now image that you went back 5,000 years, to any civilization, and showed them a lighter. The ability to create fire with seemingly nothing but your bare hands? You’re basically a wizard! Fire from no visible fuel? TEACH ME YOUR WAYS, O SORCERER OF THE FLAME!!! And that’s just a goddamn lighter. 

What about a light bulb? Light from energy you’ve harnessed from metals and from the air itself? Jujube! A camera? With the ability to capture a moment in time in the form of a tangible image? WITCHCRAFT!!! A smartphone? A FUCKING SMARTPHONE???

And so, in celebration of the blurring of magic and science...why not start this month with an unconventional form of science fiction, huh? Something that blurs magic and science in a way that’s indistinguishable. And so, I can FINALLY watch a movie that I’ve wanted to watch for YEARS!

I am so excited, and this is a hell of a way to kick off the month! Why this? Well, I’ll explain that later. But for now...LET’S DO THIS.

SPOILER ALERT!!!

Recap (1/2)

There are three acts of magic.

First is “the pledge”, where the magician shows something normal. Then, there’s “the turn”, which is when the ordinary becomes extraordinary. And finally, there’s the act of bringing the show full-circle; bringing back a disappeared object, in a new way and with a new technique. That final act, the showmanship, the establishment of the mystery, is called “the prestige”.

So is told to us by John Cutter (Michael Caine), keeper of canaries and stage engineer to magicians, via narration abut magic. Intercut with that narration, and with a disappearing canary trick, is the presentation of an act being performed by Robert Angier (Hugh Jackman). In it, he turns on a machine using electricity, with lightning bolts flying freely. He steps inside of it, and disappears.

Meanwhile, coming from the audience, a man pretends to be part of the act, and goes backstage and underneath the machine. There, he witnesses Angier fall through a trap door into a water tank, unable to get out, panicking and drowning. Which is just super fun to watch, lemme tell you! And that is where the story starts.

The man from the audience was Alfred Borden (Christian Bale), who is quickly put on trial for the murder of Angier. A rival of his during the 1890s and early 1900s, Borden is sent to jail, and sent to death by hanging. This is as his young daughter watches on. In court, Alfred testifies against Bruce Wayne on how he murdered Wolverine, because this is all I could think of the entire time. Anyway, the court asks for more details on the trick that killed Angier, called “the Transported Man”. He refuses to divulge it publicly, but agrees to tell it to one of the judges in secret.

In prison, Borden’s visited by a representative of a wealthy collector of items, Lord Caldlow. He asks if he will sell him his most prominent trick, the “Transported Man”. But Borden also refuses, as it’s HIS trick. Still, in response, the man gives Borden a journal of Angier’s’, and asks him to think about selling the secret. And from there: flashback!

Angier is on a train, heading to Colorado Springs, where he’s surprised to see that the whole town has electricity. His plan is to go up the mountain, which is closed for scientific experimentation. Which isn’t ominous at all! That completely banal revelation is followed by a walk up the mountain in the fog, past a fence that says no trespassing and LITERAL WARNING SIGNS.

There, he’s greeted by Alley (Andy Serkis), the assistant of the estate’s owner. Apparently, said owner made a machine for Borden, and Angier wants to learn the secrets. Another flashback, and we learn that Borden and Angier, rival magicians now, met a long time ago at the show of another magician, both volunteering to tie up the female assistant, Julia (Piper Perabo). Which would be creepy out of context, and then is creepy IN context when Angier kisses her thigh. Ew.

Anyway, they drop her into a tank, with a pretty stereotypical trick. After the show, we also learn that these two men are actually working for the magician, Milton (Ricky Jay), which makes that thigh kiss less creepy. Talking to Cutter and Julia, Borden mocks Milton’s trick, noting that the old magician won’t even try something like a bullet catch. Cutter mocks this idea, and asks if Borden has any better ideas. It’s around this time that Cutter suggests seeing Chung Ling Soo. Huh. I won’t say anything about that until later.

Or right now! And, uh...oh shit, this is extraordinarily awkward. Here’s the thing: this is NOT Chung Ling Soo. I know this for two reasons. One, Soo didn’t really pretend to be crippled, as Borden and Angier suggest. Wasn’t really his bag. But something that IS interesting about the guy is how he died! BULLET CATCH TRICK!! Yup! He tried the bullet catch trick, and he died when the bullet actually fired at him! Yeah, awkward.

And you know what else is awkward, and really different from this story? Chung Ling Soo was...not Chinese. Even a little bit. His real name was William Ellsworth Robinson, he married his assistant, cheated on her with another assistant, never divorced and still married his new assistant illegally, etc. He was an interesting guy. Ignoring, y’know, the whole disgustingly shitty yellow-face thing. Different times, unfortunately.

Borden’s frustration with an act he considers boring and obsolete erupts during one of Milton’s shows, where we see him KILL A BIRD, FUCK ME MAN. Yeah, I get it, Borden, this is terrible! This coincides with meeting a young woman and her nephew, who is also upset to see a bird die in front of him. The woman is Sarah (Rebecca Hall), and the two start a romance. Meanwhile, the romance between Angier and Julia is a straight-up marriage, making that thigh kiss fare more understandable. And, the two are about to have a baby, to both of their delight! Nothing bad will happen now!

We flash forward to the future, where Cutter is showing the judge what’s what with the device. He claims that a wizard built it, and that the machine can actually do what magicians have only pretended to do for years. They also look at a tank, and Cutter reveals that the tank has a terrible history, especially for the two magicians.

Flashback again, to a night of yet another show. That night, Milton and the group go through with their trick, as per usual. However, Borden decides to make it a little tougher and more exciting by tying a different knot this time. And unfortunately...Julia can’t untie it. They try to get her out in time, but alas...it’s too late.

Julia dies, and Angier blames Borden, who isn’t even entirely sure if he tied the knot that killed Julia...allegedly. Not a big fan of Borden right now. The act is over, and Borden decides to split off and do his own act, calling himself “the Professor”. Now having a child of his own with Sarah, he decides to do a bullet trick, with the help of new stage engineer, Fallon. But this is a tricky trick to perform. And the understandable mental breakdown of Angier causes its own problems.

See, during one of Borden’s shows (which is going TERRIBLY), a disguised Angiers shows up and loads a REAL bullet into the gun for the trick, and BLOWS OFF TWO OF HIS FINGERS FUCK ME!!! Borden’s not exactly happy about this, but he recovers quickly. Shortly after, Cutter finds Angier at a bar, and offers him the opportunity to make a new show of his own. Reluctantly, he accepts, and takes up the moniker “the Great Danton”, a name that his late wife suggested.

With a new bird/cage trick, one that lets the bird LIVE (THANK YOU), they’re almost set. But they also add a new assistant, in the form of...Black Widow. I mean, sorry, Olivia Wenscombe (Scarlett Johansson). Yeah, um...Wolver, Alfred Pennyworth, and Black Widow are working together in competition against Batman. Also, Gollum is in the movie, too. God, what’s next, David Bowie?

Anyway, the show is on once again, and Angier asks for some volunteers in the audience. But, uh oh! One of them is Borden in disguise, and he sabotages the trick in front of EVERYBODY, breaking an audience member’s fingers, and killing the bird, completely fucking up Angier’s career, in revenge for his fingers. Oh, also, MOTHERFUCKER YOU KILLED HIS WIFE (maybe)!!! Doesn’t justify Angier shooting off your fingers, but you could’ve just let bygones be! No wonder you’re rivals in the future! Batman’s a dick (which, given Christian Bale, isn’t that surprising).

Well, since his trick, Angier’s fucked. They’re kicked out of the theater, and in need of a new act. Cutter suggests that Angier goes to the upcoming science exposition for ideas. And yes...that’s where the science fiction angle starts in. See, like Clarke said, any science that’s sophisticated enough LOOKS like magic to audiences who don’t understand it. And Borden has the same idea, as he also heads to the expo. 

It’s there that a presentation of a massive electrical generator is being held, with the machine having been invented by...Nicola Tesla! YO!

I don’t think I need to tell anybody about Tesla at this point, but he was a brilliant physicist and inventor from the early 1900s. His legendary Current War with Thomas Alva Edison for the current to be used by the United States (Tesla’s DC vs. Edison’s AC) is the stuff of science legend...and is a conflict that the far less charismatic Tesla lost. Still, his mastery of electricity (such as the above Tesla coil) is remembered today. If you want to go sightseeing, check out New York! In Niagara Falls, he’s got a massive statue overlooking the falls; and in Bryant Park in NYC, you can sit on the bench where he fed his beloved pigeons. Yeah, he loved pigeons, which I respect.

Anyway, the expo’s shut down due to presumed danger of the exhibit, possibly spurred on by Thomas Edison and his PR team. Which is pretty accurate, not gonna lie. Still, the experiment interests both Angier and Borden. Still, Angier doesn’t do much with this information. Right now, anyway.

Flash forward to Angier in Colorado Springs, and a group of men from Edison’s employ are there for some reason. But undeterred, Angier heads back to Tesla’s lab, where Alley shows him a gorgeous sight: lightbulbs dotting a field, making a gorgeous grid of light. He reveals that the source of the electricity is 15 miles away, as a testament to Tesla’s scientific genius. Stellar.

A great place to pause. See you in Part Two of this Recap!

[lilhawkeye3]

This Ohio discourse has got me dying to create discourse about every other state now hehe so I officially present:

Hawk’s review of 36/50 US states!

In alphabetical order because that fuckin song “50 nifty United States” has been stuck in my head since fourth grade.

Arizona: Phoenix is hot. Can’t believe y’all choose to live in a place that gets haboobs. Saw Sen. John McCain in the airport. I feel that sums up the state well. 4/10

California: as a resident of the state of Oregon, I’m legally required to say fuck California😌 unless anyone else talking shit about Cali and then we got your back😤 SoCal vs San Fran vs Northern Cal are totally different worlds though. 7/10

Colorado: damn idk how y’all breathe there, them air is thin. But really pretty out there! 7/10

Connecticut: oh my god fuck New Haven. And Stamford, and Hartford, and— Yknow what? Let’s just toss the whole state into the Sound. For real, traffic is the WORST here and I’m so sorry that y’all gotta live like that. 3/10

Delaware: I cannot believe this is considered a state. There’s no difference between Delaware and Maryland/Pennsylvania. 1/10 should not be a state

Florida: “the only hills in Florida are the highway ramps and the Matterhorn!” —the shuttle driver at Disney World. He was right. Shit is flat as fuck here. And hot. And humid. The Gulf Coast is nice? But tbh it’s just all very touristy which is kind of a bummer. 5/10

Georgia: ...I can’t with the humidity or thinly veiled racism. But y’all got nice peaches! Also Black Panther filmed there so thank you for blessing us with that. 6/10 for fruits

Hawaii: okay pineapple farms are cool. Tbh I just feel really bad for how much mainlander/tourist bs all the islanders put up with. Ik price of living is v high and keeps going up. That said I did love Hawaii... although I was stung by a jellyfish. Hate those little bastards. 8/10 for wonderful people and nature

Idaho: as an Oregonian I’m required to also say fuck Idaho 😝 you da hoes. Okay for real tho southern Idaho has become v white white and kinda scary tbh. The northern part of the state is pretty chill tho. Also Oreida kettle chips are partly made in Idaho so I gotta give you half credit for that. 4/10

Illinois: at least you’re not Indiana. 4/10.

Indiana: I never want to step foot in Gary, Indiana again in my life. (Passed a Mack truck hauling a race car to Indy 500 though so that was cool.) 2/10

Iowa: I almost moved here. I’m so glad I didn’t. Why are the Quad Cities actually a group of five towns? I hate that. Also the roads were all cement, felt like driving on a sidewalk. Was also interesting because the second we got out of the city proper, it was just... corn fields everywhere. 2/10 y’all raising children of the corn.

Kentucky: I really don’t have anything to say about Kentucky. I thought the trees were pretty? 5/10 yeah idk

Maine: my relative has totaled two cars by hitting moose in Maine. Maine scares me. Or rather, the moose do. Also the lobster roll hype is real. And the coast truly is beautiful. 8/10 but an extra point for the moose bc I hate that relative so 9/10

Maryland: oh god Baltimore. Also I’m blaming you for the DC traffic because it’s on the land you gifted them. 3/10

Massachusetts: Patriots fans are the worst NFL fans (the racism is real, especially after fans burned the jerseys of Black players who knelt for the anthem). Liking Dunkin’ Donuts is not a personality trait. The North End in Boston is truly the best place to get pizza in the entire country. Western Mass is not the same state. And the Cape Cod bridges give me nightmares. 5/10 but cause I had to pay taxes two years and it really is Taxachusetts, knocking it down to 4/10

Michigan: it’s a lot bigger than I initially thought. 5/10

Minnesota: it’s Canada but in the US. Pretty driving through the southern part. Cops suck tho. 5/10

Montana: okay Montana is downright gorgeous. (Except Billings. Sorry, Billings.) I must include a photo. I wanna get a cabin here and just exist. 8/10

New Hampshire: can’t decide if it hates Massachusetts or wants to be Massachusetts. All it knows is that it’s better than Vermont. Which... y’know, valid. (If you wanna see NH culture watch North Woods Law tbh). 4/10

New Jersey: why are there so many goddamn highways in this state? Also there are more places to weekend trip than the Shore or the Poconos. Although you do have people pump gas for you just like Oregon, so... that’s valid. Things my friends have added: Newark airport is cursed (valid), the jughandles are nightmares (true), pork roll/Taylor Ham is good and so are bagels and New Jersey pizza (allergic so idk), and everyone is split on whether the shore is actually decent or not 😂 I give it a 3.5/10 out of spite

New York: NYC is fun, Upstate is MASSIVE but really beautiful. Long Island is... yeah I don’t have anything nice to say about Long Island. 8/10 For NYC, 6/10 for Upstate, -2/10 for Long Island, gives us an average of 6/10

North Carolina: very good peaches. Isn’t South Carolina. Keep it up👍🏽 6/10

Ohio: I already told y’all how I feel about this flat ass boring state. I feel no need to slander it any more lmao. 3/10

Oregon: she flies with her own wings, mi amor🥰 to list all the reasons I like Oregon (and the issues too bc it ain’t perfect), I would need a whole other post. I’ll just leave you with this picture I took of Mt. Hood, the queen of our Cascades. 11/10

Pennsylvania: so apparently PN is three states hiding in a trench coat like NY. There’s upstate, philly and Pittsburg. Personally I think they’re just trying too hard and wanna get the same recognition as NY. Meh. 5/10

Rhode Island: THIS FUCKIN SHAM OF A STATE Just merge it with Connecticut and be done with it!! It’s tiny. Providence sucks. There’s nothing unique about this state that you can’t find in Southern Mass (except MA has cheaper taxes so y’all come to work and shop in MA anyways smh). Also the fingers are really annoying to drive down to get to some beach areas haha. 2/10 you’re barely better than Delaware.

South Carolina: my Black father was invited to a party celebrating General Robert E Lee’s birthday. So... 0/10

South Dakota: very gorgeous, didn’t realize the Missouri River went this far west, but VERY LARGE. I mean it looks big on a map but then you get there and... yeah. No speed limit on highways is a great time though. And the Badlands have mountain goats! 6/10 bc while pretty, living there seems really hard. (Picture is me in the Badlands).

Texas: gave us Juneteenth and Beyoncé and JJ Watts. Thank you Texas. But is very big, got independence from Mexico to keep slavery (yikes), is like 97% private land (yikes) and is like the second or third largest state. Very big. That said, everyone I’ve ever met from Texas is lovely. 6/10.

Utah: Other than Idaho, this is the whitest state I’ve been to. Or it feels that way. Like a, the people crossed to the other side of the street and held their bags because I’m brown, state. And I don’t ski so I can’t even say that’s a good thing (I fell off the ski lift the one time I went, long story). Yeah 0/10.

Vermont: wants to be New Hampshire or Canada and can’t decide which. So it’s just kinda there. Pretty hills though. 3/10

Virginia: let’s be real we all forget that Virginia exists west of Richmond. Nova is a beauracratic and traffic nightmare and half our neighbors had to pass security clearance checks. Hampton Roads and beach area is a tourist and mosquito nightmare. But there were dolphins and I made snowmen on the beach. Good times. 6.7/10

Washington: again, legally required as an Oregon resident to say fuck Washington because it’s all your fault we now are getting a toll on the I-5 border. But you’re better than California. And the Sound is really cool for fishing, love Wicked Tuna. And the fish market. Best salmon I’ve had. Eastern Washington... y’all got Spokane but the rest is kinda sparse. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 8/10

Wisconsin: cheese is actually good. Again, pretty state, much larger than I initially thought. 7/10

Wyoming: this was the ONLY STATE I lost cell service in when diriving cross country. Kinda surprised it wasn’t Montana, but no, it was Wyoming. Views are gorgeous though so I was distracted either way. 4/10

Thank you for joining me on this cross-country edition of Tea Time with Hawk. Please respond with any reactions, corrections, addendums about any and all of the states mentioned. And thank you for taking part in this wholesome Clone Wars fandom discourse with me 🥰💕

DISCLAIMER: THESE RATINGS ARE ALL A JOKE PLEASE DO NOT ACTUALLY GET MAD ABOUT IT

[davidmann95]

So... Crossover #1: any thoughts?

Anonymous said: You seemed not to think much of Crossover #1 on Twitter. Your full thoughts?

wcwit said: So Cates' Crossover #1, best bad comic of the year or just regular pretentious trash?

An incidental note upfront: What you’re seeing there is the apparently SUPER-RARE SECRET VARIANT COVER I unwittingly picked up at the store - at first glance indistinguishable from the standard cover, the kid getting four-color-fucked by mysterious comic book rays is in fact themselves reading a variant cover of the book, rather than the main cover again in an infinite painting-within-a-painting sort of deal that’s the standard.

So I wasn’t gonna get this: my initial post on the comic and what an obviously awful idea it was back when we only knew half the premise and it was known as Pray The Capes Away actually got some out-of-nowhere traction recently, and I’ve grown rapidly tired of Cates’ Marvel work. Even learning that it was going to be Image’s biggest debut in decades - Jesus fuck, how and why - mostly just made me wish it was Commanders in Crisis getting those kinds of numbers. But Sean Dillon/@deathchrist2000 and Ritesh Babu both got early looks at it and assured me that I, specifically, needed to see the last page, so in I dove. I’ll be posting my reaction to the last page below because I recorded it for their amusement, and below that I’ll talk about said last page. It may surprise you, however, that that wasn’t my main takeaway from the issue.

Let’s accentuate the positive first! This book is gorgeous. Geoff Shaw was terrific back with Thanos Wins, but this is an incredible stylistic level-up aided and abetted by Dee Cunniffe’s colors: it’s rote as hell to say “They mix the elevated and the mundane so well!”, but even beyond the obvious ben-day dots stuff there’s such a tangible sense that the comic book beings don’t belong here, that they’re of higher, misty, platonic stuff and we squishy non-paper-people inevitably crumble and break and bleed in their wake, communicating that big idea so much more powerfully than the actual loads of text on the subject. And if we’re talking good things, I’ll concede it’s possible that there could be subtleties that play out in more interesting ways as it goes on, and that not everything is meant to be taken at face value: a smart friend who actually did like it mentioned being interested in it as clumsy but potentially effective exploration of ‘what if the fun hobby you had inadvertently became contaminated and stigmatized by forces beyond your control?’ In a post-Comicsgate world where we recently ended up inches away from the Superman logo almost certainly becoming a fascist propaganda symbol ala the Punisher skull for at least a generation, that’s a defensible lens to view this book through.

For all Donny Cates’ legitimate talents however, I don’t think an expectation of subtlety is gonna work out with this one.

Okay first off getting into the rest of it the main characters’ name is Ellipsis because “Those three little dots...they can become anything”, so there’s that. More importantly, in the world of this story where comic fans face social oppression after superpeople materialize and fuck up Colorado, they face EVERY KIND OF OPPRESSION: there are clear parallels drawn in here to the violence and harassment faced by people persecuted for their religion, people seeking abortions, queer people, and people of color; this motherfucker even drops a “hates and fears” to let us know comic collecting basically makes you one of the goddamn X-Men. Which in theory could be a purely misjudged allegory rather than stemming from actual, obscenely inflated to the point of disgusting fears of ‘nerd oppression’, except that the book literally opens with a quote from Wertham. If Cates didn’t want to make the message “Hating comics? That’s bad. Like, racism bad”, he utterly, grotesquely failed by inextricably intermingling imagery of real-world bigotry with systemic, deluded fanboy paranoia, at least as of this first issue that’s supposed to meaningfully convey the premise. As a queer dude I think I’m somewhat in my lane to say it’s too blunt and broad and dopey to be particularly offensive, but the co-opting of oppression is what this is rooted in.

The idea of ‘comics good no matter what people think, ain’t it?’ extends to the last traditional local comic store standing in this world: much as superheroes are the primary cause of suffering in this world but the point of the story is still supposed to reveal the beauty in them, part of this is that the comics community isn’t perfect but it sure is great. Which is expressed here via Ellie’s boss Otto, a loveable asshole who yells at people coming in trying to sell the wrong kind of comics to fuck off, but at heart is we’re supposed to understand a good enough dude that the shop he runs is “the only home a lot of (the benighted nerds) have left” (because I guess in this alternate universe the physical stores are still the main hub through which comics fans talk with one another?).

So here’s a story of my very own! That’s me in 2013, it must’ve been some kind of special day because I’m wearing a shirt with a button. I’d at that point only frequented one of what would be my thus far four regular comic shops. The first was a great place, and while to say I had a sense of community there would be overstating it a bit, I was on really good terms with the owner and we regularly chatted when we had the time. When I left for college my store there wasn’t as well-stocked, and for some damn reason all variant covers were double-price, but I got along really well with the owner there too. The third I wasn’t so lucky; the guy regularly behind the desk was never overtly hostile, but clearly wanted to wring my neck every time I asked when a missing comic might get in or if I could update my pull list, and given I’m in the ‘ideal’ demographic for being a comic book store regular and was dropping a solid lump of money there every week, I wonder how others were treated there (the store nearly went under, was saved on the last day of operation by another store that wanted to incorporate it as part of its franchise, then shortly afterwards DID go under and is now I believe a beef jerky place). My current store is fine, I didn’t chat much with the folks behind the counter even before we all had medical incentive to get in and out of places fairly quickly but it almost always has what I’m looking for.

Just because those were my regular stores of course doesn’t mean those are the only ones I’ve ever gone to. About a year before that picture was taken - it’s the closest I could find - when I was 17 my store didn’t have something or another I was looking for, so I head across town to see if another place I had looked up had it. This other place didn’t have what I was looking for either, though I distinctly remember picking up a few issues of Hickman’s FF while I was there since I had foolishly fallen off, hence my remembering the year. I bought a couple issues, but hung around for a bit looking to see if I might grab something else out of a dollar box, setting my comics down. Without realizing it, I’d set my books down on top of another issue, and when I decided I wasn’t getting anything else, I just picked that up along with the rest of the pile and was about to walk out before the owner stopped me. He explained what I had done though assumed it had been deliberate, and because I was a good-hearted little geek I even recall thinking “Well, he’s gonna chew me out, but I guess I deserve it. I’ll try and take this to heart as a learning experience.”

Then he pulled up his shirt a little to show me the gun on his belt. He pointed at the security camera monitors at his desk, and explained to me that if I ever did something like that again, he would have it on tape, and he would pull that gun on me and hold me there while he called the cops.

As it turned out, the comic was free.

The whole thing was so sudden and bizarre and unexpected I didn’t actually freak out until the drive home. It wasn’t until weeks or maybe months later that I managed to tell my dad about the experience, because I *had* nearly stolen a (free) comic and my guilt was mixed in with my nerves and I guess I was somehow too close to register just how disproportionate his response was. It wasn’t until now, nearly a decade later and thinking about it for the first time in a long time as I write this, that I wondered if that might have gone differently - especially living in the midwest - if I hadn’t been a white, squeaky-voiced 17-year-old.

So, minor spoiler, when our cantankerous but well-meaning LCS owner yells to call the cops and grabs and yells at a small kid for pocketing a comic (and later displays fantasy racism towards said kid), I am not filled with nostalgic love for the brotherly safe space that is comic book stores, where this guy while not meant to be seen as perfect is still framed in part as a charming, witty representation of Why We Love These Places, And This Community, And This Genre, And This Medium. Cates is clearly drawing on real time at his local stores, but he equally clearly has a very different takeaway from those experiences than me. And I am, again, in a demographic - white, cis-male, abled, bi but more interested in women, disposable income, a lifelong collector - that the industry and a lot of the guys who sell it to us contort themselves around catering to, even if I had a single very negative experience and later an ongoing low-key uncomfortable one to help disabuse me of any notions of the purity of the dork community. In the world of Crossover as of #1, toxicity is intertwined, deliberately or not on the part of the creators, with what we love on the cosmic and small business scales alike, but at least in the latter case it’s the whole picture that’s beautiful, not any single kernel that needs to be worked on to be dug up.

So underneath is my video reaction to the last page of Crossover #1. Very minor spoilers because I mutter the last two words of the comic to myself, but under the video I discuss said final page and some other scattered thoughts. Whether you read that or not, my takeaway is this: I’m fascinated with wherever the hell this thing is going, I’m glad my dad liked it well enough to want to keep getting it because now I’ll get to see where it heads, but my first impression is that this is at heart meant as cheapass Oscar-bait for people who only read Batman. It’s big and high-concept but also small and intimate! It’s meta and about how great you, the reader are for your consumption, especially the consumption of this! It’s going to be in large part about a forbidden love between a couple divided across impermeable social lines (a couple where they’re a seemingly straight white man and woman, but one likes comics)! Maybe it’ll become Not That, and I’m sure it’ll do at least something interesting along the way because Cates has done good stuff before and there are some inherently interesting big ideas for him to play with here, but for the love of god if you’re thinking about getting this buy Commanders in Crisis too or instead, it’s another new book out of Image about superheroes dealing with the collapse of the multiverse but that one is really fucking good.

So the final page splash reveal is that when the comic book child discovered in here got out of Colorado, which has had an impenetrable energy shield erected around it by one of the heroes for years, she and others were ferried out of there...by Superman, as the narration declares that “This is a story...about hope.” They don’t say the word, but she sketches her savior, Ellie and Otto freak out and go “Is that---” when they see it, and on that last page we see that while a crude drawing it isn’t a rough analogue character, it’s a guy with a cape and trunks with an S on his chest. Surprisingly, I don’t have much to say: it’s just another blunt signifier that superheroes rule and are the best, paired with the most utterly devalued notion as of late of what makes Superman special in ‘hope’. I mean, I’m perversely excited to see whether this is building the entire series on a hook it can never deliver on, or if Cates actually has talked DC into an intercompany crossover; believable given they’ve done a bunch of those over the last several years, and why else would Mark Waid be supervising as ‘story editor’ on this? I guess it’ll shake out one way or another with #6 given Cates has said it “has one of the more epic and — I would argue historic — sequences in comic book history in it.” But I’m far less convinced this is gonna truly go into the meaty question of “What does Superman mean and what makes him unique in this world where superheroes in general are indisputably either failures or monstrous bastards given the scale of destruction their presence has brought about, and he himself failed to stop that?” than as some kind of holy grail of how great superheroes are despite how dang violent they’ve gotten these days for the crew to chase after, whatever additional twist will surely be placed upon it. At least he’s kinda helping an immigrant kid get over a wall, if that’s deliberate?

Random final thoughts:

* If I wrote the opening essay and turned it in in a college course, I would be expelled for plagiarizing Grant Morrison. This is not a joke.

* If mainstream American superhero comics ended January 2017 in this universe, its own last ‘crossover’ was Civil War II, which is hilarious.

* God, please tell me if it takes the dive after all that this isn’t somehow tied into whatever Waid’s Superman project is.

* I wouldn’t normally crap on issues with the finer details of worldbuilding, but A. This is rooted in a nominally ‘real’ world playing by recognizable rules, B. I’m ragging on this anyway so what’s the harm, and C. It’s really obvious. So: Why is one of the racists against the superheroes the guy who loves superheroes so much he’s the last holdout in the entire world still selling comic books about them? How does this modestly-sized shop exist long-term with apparently a significant regular customer base if there are no new comics or even reprints to restock with, ever? Who’s buying the serialized cop/cowboy comics that the U.S. government apparently created pretty much overnight (nobody, it’s just another Wertham dig)?

* The solicit for issue #3 proclaims “Don't miss this one, folks. If you do, it just might drive you...mad.”, so now I fear some kind of Ultra Comics riff.

* “Kids love chains” is the most metal-ass quote of all time and I hate that it’s being wasted as an arc title on this book.

[blazedgraysons]

Killing Me Softly

The one where Grayson falls in love in under 12 hours

A/N: Here’s another fic inspired by literally nothing. I am pretty proud of this one though. To all the people who said nice things about Drunk Off You, just know that I read every single one of them and you own my heart and soul. Also, I know literally no one knows who I am but feel free to send asks or messages. I pinky promise to respond. ♡

Word Count: 1.7K

Pairing: Grayson Dolan x OC (Harlow)

Warnings: nothing really, it’s pretty tame minus a lil angst towards the end. 

“Are you B29?”

Harlow removes an earbud, looking up to meet big brown eyes staring back at her. It’s hard not to notice the rest of the man standing in the aisle.

Brown hair flops over his forehead as she moves her eyes down to appreciate the soft scuff lining his chin - not quite a beard, but not quite stubble. He’s dressed casually in a gym shirt that outlines every single bulging muscle paired with grey sweatpants and some Louis Vuitton slides. She nods slightly to his question, hoping the adonis of a man doesn’t notice that slight blush that’s appeared on her face. He offers her a gracious smile and effortlessly slings his carry-on into the overhead cabin.

“Looks like we’re neighbors then.” Harlow hums in acknowledgment, not sure why he’s so friendly. Most passengers would’ve just grabbed their seat and slept or occupied themselves, but this man intends on making himself known.

He slides into the neighboring seat, and Harlow is instantly overwhelmed. If she thought he looked good from afar, up close was even better. Here she could appreciate all the minute details — the dark mole on his chin, the expensive cologne, the 333 tattoo behind his ear. It took everything in her not to stare, so instead, she settles for quick glances hoping he would be too occupied by his phone to pay her any attention. If he did notice, he spared Harlow further embarrassment by not saying anything. She turns back to her magazine, a random Vogue issue she picked up in the airport convenience store to pass the time, mentally telling herself to calm down in order to get through the next three hours.

“ I’m Grayson, by the way. Just in case we crash, and you need to identify me.” He jokes, smiling widely and — oh shit, does he have a diamond in his tooth? Harlow is so screwed. 

—-

Grayson’s never been a big believer in fate until now. The idea of some external force dictating a situation in your life just seemed like bullshit. Yet, Grayson couldn’t describe meeting Harlow as anything else.

He had been irritated all the way up to that point. An overbooked plane forced him off his original flight and away from his twin brother. Ethan had offered to go with him, but Grayson didn’t see a point in delaying their trip even further and told him he’d meet him in Jersey. While the airline was over apologetic and gave him (terrible) perks, in order to make the next flight, he had to sacrifice his first-class seat for an economy red-eye flight. But at least he had a shitty hot towel to make up for it.

He scowled all the way through the check-in and tarmac, vowing to never fly with JetBlue again as he passed the first-class seats that he couldn’t help but stubbornly think, ‘That should be mine.’

It wasn’t until he reached his row that he realized what he thought was a hindrance was actually a blessing. Because there sitting in the seat next to him was a beauty that could only be described as ethereal. Her long, dark hair tumbles in tight coils down her shoulders as she sits crossed-leg, hunched over a magazine, biting her lip in furrowed concentration. She bobs her head slightly to whatever song she’s listening to as she quickly flips through the pages. She tucks her hair behind her shoulder, revealing blemished copper skin that reflects the light.

A small voice in his head (that suspiciously sounds like Ethan) tells him to stop being weird and talk to her. Before he can justify themillion reasons why he shouldn’t, an annoying cough comes from the lady behind him.

He turns around to glare at her a little and asks the mystery girl her seat number with a smile that he hopes comes off as charming and not predatory.

And fuck, he knows she has to be a blessing because she looks like she was sent straight from the gates of heaven to Grayson’s heart. Ironically, the plane’s fluorescent lights form a halo around her head (‘Or maybe you’re finally losing it.’ Ethan's voice tells him.) He blinks, once, twice, three times before realizing that the girl in front of him isn’t a sleep-deprived hallucination and is actually real. He tries to act unaffected by the slow once-over her round, onyx eyes give him. Still, when he notices her eyes lingering on his chest and thighs, he swallows hard before throwing his suitcase into the overhead and sitting down. 

The grumpy lady behind him gives him a look as she moves down the aisle, and he whips out his phone for a welcomed distraction. The girl, unaware of the havoc she was wreaking on Grayson’s mind and body, continues to sneak looks at him that were a little too obvious for Grayson to not notice. He debates whether or not to ask for her name until she turns back to her magazine and Grayson figures that she doesn’t want to be bothered anymore. It wasn’t until the voice in his head repeatedly calls him a pussy (‘Shut up, Ethan’ he thinks back) that he introduces himself. And when her plump lips turn up into a smile, Grayson pretends to not notice how screwed he is. 

—-

Conversation flows smoothly between the two of them after that. Grayson explains the situation with his original flight and his plans to surprise his mom for mother’s day while Harlow talks about her little brother and the birthday party she helped plan for him this weekend. They talk for so long that their conversation turns from typical discussion to hushed whispers to not disturb the other sleeping passengers. They finally pause for a break when the beverage attendant stops at their row.

Harlow’s honestly glad for the lull in conversation as it gives her time to reflect over what she’s learned. Grayson appears to be very humble despite being heavily involved in the influencer scene in Los Angeles, something Harlow desperately tries to stay far away from herself. Also, despite being one of the hottest guys she’s ever seen, he seems to be so shy that it’s endearing. She notices he stumbles over words, getting so excited about their conversations that he trips himself up.

“So in LA, what do you do for fun? Any friends? Boyfriend?” He asks coolly, trying not to be obvious about his intentions (which makes it so much more apparent in Harlow’s eyes) as he drinks his diet root-beer.

“I work for a high- fashion company doing PR, so I’m always there. I have a couple close friends, but since I’m working so much, I haven’t had that much time for a relationship or finding a guy worth making time for.” Harlow sighs wistfully.

“Ah, that makes sense about the magazine.” He nods, trying to hide his excitement. This situation seems to be working more and more in his favor. “And what guy would be worth making time for?”

“I don’t know honestly. It just seems that all the guys I run into in LA are beyond superficial. All my dates have just been talking about how many followers they have on Instagram or TikTok and just end in hookups. While there’s nothing wrong with that, it’s just hard when you want something more, you know?” She shrugs. And as much as Grayson hates to admit it, he does know. Hell, he’s probably been that guy once or twice in his younger years. Still, as he grows older, he craves the same things Harlow does: intimacy, connection, emotion. He takes another swallow of his drink before responding.

“Yeah, I mean hookups and one-night stands are great in the moment, but it’s hard when you just have love you want to give. It’s even harder now that my brother’s dating someone, ya know. Seeing someone you’re close with have what you want; it’s kinda hard not to be jealous.” He shares, hoping she relates and doesn’t think he’s weird for telling so much to someone he met a few hours earlier.

Harlow sits with that for a second before responding, “And what girl would you want to give your love to?” She whispers.

’Someone like you.’ Grayson thinks. But before he could make the bold confession, the plane announces its descent.

——

Grayson realizes almost immediately that he wasn’t paying that much attention to the flight details because the fact that there was a layover in Colorado flew over his head. He lets Harlow pass by him to stand in the aisle and grabs both his and her carry-on to take off the plane. As Grayson stands behind her (and tries not to stare at how incredible her ass looks in her leggings), he does what he’s best at: forming a game-plan. He realizes that a girl like Harlow is too good to let go. So, he figures he could grab a coffee with her, get her number, and plan a date for when they both are back in LA. He smiles, already thinking of the story he’ll get to tell Ethan when he gets to Jersey. As they both slowly move into the terminal, Harlow turns back to Grayson with a bright smile. He smiles back before asking —

“Do you want to get coffee?” He can’t help his heart from swelling as she bites her lip, a habit he notices she does a lot.

“Good, I thought you weren’t going to ask.” She laughs. “Wait here though, I have to run to the restroom.”

He nods, handing Harlow her carry-on. He sits down and pulls out his phone, already texting Ethan that he met his future soulmate.

Five minutes pass: He’s got the future planned out: the wedding, the kids, the farmland in Jersey and the tiny-home in Australia.

Ten minutes pass: He starts to get worried, but figures Harlow can handle herself.

Thirty minutes pass: He considers sending someone to the bathroom to check on her.

Two hours passed: He’s already cased the domestic airline terminal twice, looking for her dark curly hair. 

It’s not until the final call of flight 437-A to New Jersey that he understands: Harlow’s not coming back for him. And he can’t help it when his heart splits into two.

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Detours on the Road so Far - Ch 1

Detours on the Road so Far

- Or - 

Why Sam and Dean Need Actual Adult Supervision

Summary: Shenanigans. Lots of them. Crack. Probably some pie. (SERIES SUMMARY)

Warning: Shenanigans. Unintentional drug use. Crackfic. 

Rating: Let’s call this one at least Teen, if not Mature. See Warning above.

Word Count: 1700-ish

Author’s Note: THIS IS CRACK: unapologetically, unequivocally, utterly crack. Some of it makes little sense. Some of it makes fun of our favorite characters. I love these guys; this is just for fun. The stories are not in any particular order. Time frames will be referenced at the beginning of each chapter. Also, I was having some formatting issues, so if this ends up looking really wonky, please let me know, and I’ll do what I can.

This story is dedicated to a wonderful friend who let me behind the scenes into their writing process and watch the development of a wonderful story, a friend who fiercely has their folks’ backs and is the first on the scene if support and flails are needed. To a writer who can write action, romance, intrigue, and brothers being brothers. @stunudo​ , I am so glad I met you, and even gladder you didn’t absolutely fire me for all the awful puns.

ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

Chapter 1: Everything is Awesome (set sometime in season 8...ish)

Sam yawns as he shuffles down the hall, scratching the back of his head and grinning to himself. It still amazes him, even after the months they’ve been here, to have an actual home and comfortable bed to come back to after their days and weeks on the road. Even the hours crammed in the car with his brother and his painfully slow evolution of music is more bearable, knowing there are clean sheets, peace (relative peace, anyway) and quiet, and their very own refrigerator waiting for them at the other end.

He pauses as a new sound drifts towards him from the kitchen, and he frowns. It’s not a bad sound, exactly; he knows exactly what it is. But Dean doesn’t tend to sing this early in the morning, and not ever in the kitchen. It’s not the most wrong thing Sam has ever heard, but it’s strange enough for him to take notice.

Well, he can’t be possessed, so...hex bag, maybe? Their last case in Colorado didn’t involve witches, but there was always the chance they’d run across one without realizing and pissed him or her off somehow.

Dammit.

 He cautiously enters the kitchen, hoping that he’s just assuming worst case scenario. He is greeted by the sight of Dean seated at the table, staring intently at a large, clear glass coffee mug as he adds creamer to the steaming brew. 

“Morning,” Sam says, stretching. Dean waves distractedly, his concentration focused entirely on his coffee. At least that part is normal. He doesn’t usually add creamer, but it’s not unheard of, so Sam simply shrugs as he turns to the fridge. 

At least the singing stopped, or (better yet) maybe he just imagined it in the first place. Maybe he just hadn’t been fully awake yet. Sam opens the refrigerator, his eyes already moving over the contents to find something for breakfast that won’t add to Dean’s cholesterol issues his older brother tacitly refuses to acknowledge.

Except there aren’t any contents to peruse. The entire refrigerator is completely empty. Not even a wrapper.

 He turns back to Dean, the questions dying on his tongue as he watches his brother continue to add creamer to his coffee, dark brown and beige swirling in the clear mug. Dean finally sets the creamer down, watching the coffee cup as if he’s been interrogating it and it’s finally about to break.

 “Sammy,” he says, his eyes glued to the mug, “we are never using anything but clear coffee cups again. This shit is magic.”

 What?

“Seriously, Sam,” he continues, his eyes lit with pure, childlike innocence and curiosity. “It just...it mixes itself. Food doesn’t do things to itself, Sam. I mean, yeah, Jell-O moves by itself, but no other food does that. But Jell-O is evil, anyway, so yeah. Wait, except for Jell-O shots. Jell-O shots are awesome. But otherwise, Jell-O is a slime creature sent by Eve to torment small children into thinking they’re getting a real dessert when it’s really just ectoplasm’s third cousin. Twice removed.”

 And then Dean giggles.

 Sam stares at his brother, his jaw hanging down, absolutely clueless as to how to proceed. First, Dean has never said that many words together in his entire life. Second, what the fuck? Third, what. The. Ever. Living. Fuck.

 Dean adds more creamer.

 “I think...I think that’s enough, Dean. You’re going to spill your coffee.”

 Horror washes over Dean’s face, and he slams the creamer container on the table, dropping down to eye his coffee along the top edge. “Sacrilege! I wouldn’t do that, Sam, you know I’d never waste coffee like that!”

 Sam knows he needs to close his mouth at some point, but it’s just too damned early to go with the flow on this shit.

 “Dean, are you feeling okay? I know we got back pretty late last night, but you’re acting a little off.” But his brother isn’t acting tired, not exactly. Sam realizes that his brother is also still wearing yesterday’s traveling clothes.

 “Dean, did you sleep in your clothes?”

 Dean reaches out a finger and slowly pokes his coffee mug. The cream swirls lightly through the dark liquid, further mixing the two, and Dean...giggles.

 Again.

 “It’s kinda sad when they finally get all mixed together,” he says, frowning a little. Then his face brightens as he grabs the mug. “But now I can drink it, so that's less sad, right? I mean, you can’t really be sad drinking coffee, Sam. You should drink more coffee; you’ll be less sad all the time.”

 Sam’s jaw clenches involuntarily as he watches Dean alternate between sips and sloshing the cup around to watch the contents. His brother is obviously not in any distress, but spells have started out like this before, seemingly harmless and then, before you know it, hearts are exploding or organs disintegrate or something else equally nasty.

 “I can hear the colors, Sammy,” Dean murmurs, tapping the mug gently. “I think...what, would you say? Beige? Ecru? Does it sound like ecru to you?”

 Sam was unaware Dean even knew those colors existed, much less how to pronounce them. Luckily, since Dean is wearing yesterday’s clothes, it makes looking for the hex bag easier. After two unsuccessful attempts to get Dean to go through his own pockets (“But the coffee isn’t in my pockets, Sam, it’s in my hands. Why the hell would I put down the coffee to look through my pockets?”) Sam gives up with a sigh that holds the burdens of the world in it and searches his brother’s clothes himself.

 “Knock if off! That tickles; you’re gonna make me spill the coffee!”

 For fuck’s sake.

 His search proves frustratingly fruitless. But if the hex bag isn’t on Dean, then what? A spell? A curse? What the hell is going on?

 Sam’s stomach growls, adding another question to the long list. Where the hell is all the food? Well, that, at least, he can ask Dean and maybe get a straight answer.

 “Dean, do you know why the fridge is empty? It was pretty stocked when we left. Where’d all the food go?”

 Dean grins and points down at the stomach of his shirt, which is a bit rounder than normal. “In mah belleh.”

 When Sam’s face finally emerges from his palms, he finds Dean staring at him with alarming concern.

 “Are you hungry, Sam? We can go to town and get breakfast! That would be awesome, breakfast is awesome! Do you want pancakes or waffles? Nevermind, you’re huge, you should eat both. You need to eat more, Sam, you’re too skinny.”

 “Seriously, dude, are you feeling okay? You’re acting...weird.”

 “You know what’s weird, Sammy? I ate two pies, a block of cheese, and all those protein bar things you hide in the back of the pantry. And by the way, you don’t need to hide those things from me anymore, they are absolutely vile. But then I had those bags of chips, and...what else. Oh, yeah, there was some bologna, I think, and I ate the bacon, and whatever was in the vegetable drawer, which actually ended up not being horrible. But I’m still kinda hungry.”

 Sam is speechless. It doesn’t happen often, but apparently it can still happen, even after all these decades of living with his brother. He just can’t wrap his head around-

 Wait, what pie?

 “Dean, we didn’t have any pie before we left, and we didn’t stop on the way home yesterday. What pie did you eat?”

 “Sarah gave me two pies as a thank you. It would have been rude not to eat them. I had a piece last night after you crashed, and it was -awesome- so I had another piece, and then I had to try the other pie, and it was friggin delicious, and then I looked up and some asshole had eaten the rest of both the pies.” He eyes Sam suspiciously for a minute, clutching his coffee mug a little closer to himself.

 “And then I got hungry, so I had a snack.”

 “What was in the pies, Dean?”

 “Dunno,” he says, slurping coffee obnoxiously loudly. “Deliciousness. Sarah didn't say what kind they were, just said they were her way of saying thanks for getting rid of the ghost. Called it her ‘University of Colorado Specials’ or something like that. But those pies were made of magic, Sam, delicious, delicious magic.”

“What else did Sarah say, Dean?”

The elder Winchester thinks long and hard for a moment, frowning. “She didn’t. She winked a lot, though. Do you think she had something stuck in her eye?”

 Sam leans on his hands to keep from using them on his brother. He takes a deep, steadying breath and tries again.

 “Can you tell me anything else about the pies, Dean? Anything at all?”

 He thinks for a long moment, then his face melts into a dreamy expression Sam is pretty sure he’s never seen on his brother’s face before. “One of ‘em was this lemon thing that was like a citrus tree starred in a porn. The flavor just explodes in your mouth like-”

 “I don’t need to know!”

 But Dean is still going.

 “A firecracker, Sam, a Roman Candle of delicious. And the other was this...chocolatey, coffee, creamy thing. Coffee, Sam! Coffee and chocolate in a pie! They can do that now! What’ll these crazy college kids think of next?”

 He grins at Sam, taking another long slurp of coffee. Sam bites his lip, considering Dean for a long silent moment. He’s pretty sure now that Dean will be just fine and more than likely back to normal by the end of the day...maybe.

 “I’m gonna go check in with Sarah. Just make sure she hasn’t...erm...seen anything else weird.”

 “But, Sam, we ghosted that ghost!” Dean stops, thinks about what he just said, and giggles.

 Again.

 “I just want to see...how much...we ghosted that ghost. And maybe get the recipes for those pies. I’m sure everything’s fine. You know me, I just like to be sure.”

 “That’s awesome, Sam, you’re so awesome! We could make the pies together! And you could even eat some! You still need to eat more. Can we go get breakfast now?”

 Sigh.

 “Yeah, Dean. We’ll go get breakfast. I’ll call Sarah on the way.”

 Dean grins, his whole face lighting up, and Sam allows himself to see at least a little humor in the situation.

 And then Dean starts singing that song from the damned Lego movie, and Sam. 

Just. 

Can’t.

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I rewatched the second season of South Park and took so many notes that I had to split them into two parts. Like seriously, I took so. many. notes. And pictures this time. I started rewatching just in case I’d find some cool little facts to sprinkle into my fanfic but I went way too far and now there’s a million facts under this cut (including gay stan, a domestic violence psa, and craig fucking dying)

Stan doesn’t like hospitals, he finds them gross and he gets sick 🤮. Also the hospital in South Park is called Hell’s Pass hospital. Early seasons have the name as Hells Pass but it gets fixed later

Cartman has to sing all of Come Sailing Away by Styx if he hears a part of it. After he says this, Kyle sings the first part and Cartman has to sing the rest. Kyle does it again later, which is kinda mean

Cartman’s mom tries to abort Cartman, who is an eight-year-old child and thus cannot be legally aborted. Later, after she slept with Bill Clinton to change the law and make 40th trimester abortions legal, it turns out she meant adoption

Kenny sacrifices himself to turn on the generator to the hospital and save Dr. Mephesto’s life along with others. He says “I’ll fucking do it” then does it and dies, absolute legend

Cartman gets way too into his deputy role. He goes undercover, pretends to be a prostitute, says “Respect my authoritah!” a lot and beats people up with his police stick

Kenny’s brother first appears when Cartman responds to a call about a disturbance at Kenny’s house. Apparently there are like 10 adult family members in the house at that time. Kenny’s dad has a black eye because Kenny’s mom punched him. She says he can’t hold a job

Token sits in the classroom in season 2

Cartman starts hating hippies in this season, like a lot

Chef tells the boys that the right time to do drugs is in college

Ike’s name is Ike Moisha Broflovski and he was born in 1996, making him 2 years old in 1998 when this season aired

This is probably obvious but yeah Kyle and Ike are circumcised

Kyle says family isn’t just blood, it’s who you care about, and he says “That’s why you guys are more than just friends, you’re my family. Except for Cartman.”

Craig’s finally sitting in the classroom in S02E04

None of the boys like dodgeball

Clyde gets a dodgeball to the face and he cries :( and he’s the only one who cries by the way

Pip throws a dodgeball in Kyle’s face and breaks Kyle’s nose

When Kyle’s mom tells the boys about conjoined twin myslexia (which isn’t a real term) and says anyone might’ve absorbed their dead twin in the womb, Stan and Cartman run away screaming but Kenny and Kyle stay to listen. Kenny even leans in to look at the book “Freaks A-Z!” that Mrs. Broflovski is reading from, and when she leaves, Kyle grimaces and Kenny laughs

Stan’s mom (Sharon) calls Kyle’s mom (Sheila) when Stan is all freaked out and trying to put an icepick through his brain, and Sharon tells Sheila to get run over by a truck. Sharon is pretty mean in these early episodes

Mr. Broflovski doesn’t really listen to what Mrs. Broflovski is saying, bad husband >:(

South Park’s team is always called South Park Cows no matter the sport

The school nurse, Nurse Gollum, went to Colorado State University

I just realized Butters exists. I think he appeared before S02E05 but I didn’t notice but yeah he’s there with the dodgeball team, injured

Here’s a picture to make up for my disgusting anti-Butters bias

Kenny’s dodgeball uniform number is 69 obviously. Kyle is 7, Stan is 4, Cartman is 325

Sheila smacks Gerald in the face so hard he falls off his chair, lots of violence perpetrated by women in this show. Remember, don’t do domestic violence no matter your gender, it’s not cool

I realized after this whole Butters thing that I should’ve made more notes about Pip, so I’ll make a note about his anger issues now. When people call him French, he gets angry and throws dodgeballs at them

The boys launch a jelly roll at Ms. Crabtree and make her crash the bus. They do it just for fun

The kids somehow go to China in the school bus

Cartman references Moby Dick, but he probably doesn’t know what he’s talking about

Kevin Stoley gets named in S02E05 and has his first speaking role when he says he has Chinese parents and after Cartman hears it he immediately says something racist. smh cartman, what a problematic fave

Cartman says “I love you guys 😊” but Stan and Kyle just stare at him and he goes 😐 “Eh, screw you guys 😠”

If Jimbo and Ned really fought in Vietnam, they youngest they could’ve been in 1998 is early forties, which means in the latest seasons they would be early sixties. Btw they met in Vietman

Jesus and Pals is a recurring TV show in seasons 1 and 2. Jesus just kind of lives in South Park

I just remembered that Terrance and Phillip are really old in canon, it’s so weird, like how can South Park canon still be changing, it’s been 20 years

Also the early seasons are casually racist who knew

Kenny flashes his ass on a tape the boys send to Jimbo and Ned’s TV show, which airs and at least 12 people see Kenny’s bare naked ass

Cartman really doesn’t like hippies in these early seasons. He throws a chair at Ned and yells, “Take that, hippie!” (Ned is in a catatonic state and did nothing to provoke this)

Jimbo and Ned live together I guess. Jimbo’s gonna take Ned home and show him some hardcore porn to snap him out of his catatonic state, good husband unlike Gerald Broflovski

Saddam Hussein is in hell and has a Canadian accent and is Satan’s lover in S02E06, I guess he died in Canada in the first episode this season but I wasn’t paying much attention since that’s the Terrance and Phillip episode that pissed a bunch of people off in 1998 because the audience wanted to know who Cartman’s dad is instead. It was kind of a boring episode so I understand why everyone was pissed, but it is funny that Matt and Trey did that so I’m not mad about it

Aww look at them!!! We’ve got background Style, the vaguest inkling of Crenny, and Cartman/Cake

I’d take more screenshots but it’s a pain since I’m watching legally and stupid legal websites block screenshots so I have to find youtube videos instead ughhhh piracy is the answer kids

Apparently there’s a huge waterfall and canyon somewhere close to South Park, maybe? At least in Stan’s dream

Mary Kay Bergman was an incredible voice actor. How the hell did she voice all the moms, Wendy, Shelly, principle Victoria, the mayor, Nurse Gollum, and fucking Ms. Crabtree??? Holy shit what a queen

Kenny has some feelings about death. He reimagines the episode where death boops him to death and in his version, he beats death the fuck up, then has ice cream and is happy 😊 But again, this is in Stan’s dream

S02E07 kind of establishes that nobody remembers Kenny dying because when Cartman tells a story where Kenny dies, Kyle questions how Kenny could’ve died then when he also died just a few hours ago when a giant monster took him

rip craig, he falls out the bus and into a canyon

But it’s okay because it was all Stan’s dream so everything in the episode is questionable. Everything after this is no longer a dream

Pip’s parents are dead and he has to go to summer school while everyone else is having a nice summer break

Officer Barbrady and the mayor are having sexual relations, I’m sure this is the most interesting note I’ve made so far. Idk I’m just writing everything down, this is how I enjoy things, I have no off switch

Ew summer bus stop, cursed

Kyle casually sings little tunes every once in a while, how cute

This is pretty obvious but Kenny likes dirty jokes, he laughs when Cartman innocently says he loves Chef’s salty chocolate balls (which are chocolate candy). Nobody else laughs

Cartman says “Screw you guys, I’m going home” or variations of it a lot in this season

So Stan throws up when he likes someone, right? Well, he’s watching an indie movie about two gay cowboys who start making out and he throws up, which is either a terrible homophobic joke or confirmation that Stan’s a little gay. I know which one I prefer

Kyle says Mr. Hankey is his best friend after Stan. Like I know it’s definitely canon that Stan and Kyle are best friends but it’s still nice to see confirmation, it’s very precious. Also Kyle is best friends with literal shit, so cute 😊

Kenny deaths:

S02E02 Kenny sacrifices himself by connecting a generator wire, which electrocutes him but brings power back to a hospital

S02E03 A tree falls on Kenny and crushes him

S02E04 Kenny falls in a grave and the gravestone falls on him

S02E05 The Chinese dodgeball team throws a ball at Kenny and he gets splattered against a wall

S02E06 Two guys pull on Kenny and tear him in half, as in one has the head and one has the legs

S02E07 A big scary monster plucks Kenny out of the school bus and carries him away. Also in Cartman’s fake memory of Fonzi jumping over cars, the motorcycle hits Kenny and crushes him against a brick wall. Kenny gets smashed against walls a lot, doesn’t he?

S02E08 Flashback: Baby Kenny has a firecracker and it explodes, sprinkling little baby Kenny parts everywhere. Later in the episode, current day Kenny dies when a giant firework snake bumps him off a stage and under a fence, which then crushes him.

S02E09 Kenny is playing with a yoyo outside a movie theatre when a bunch of people come outside and trample him to death. They say “Oh my God, I found a penny!” and “You bastard!”

I’ll post part 2 of season 2 in a couple days. I’m having way more fun writing these stupid notes than I thought I would (also gnomes is coming up soon and i am fucking ready for tweek)