#fort Fitzgerald

[lanihaluki]

sooo when magic takes revenge or something idk I’ve never read this series in my life /j

[justarandomidiot1]

James Riley Appreciation Week!

Free Day!

happy pride month!

based on this and this

[rosebud64]

Yeag

[philoursmars]

Marseille, il y a maintenant 3 semaines. Il y avait au MuCEM, côté Fort Saint-Jean une autre expo "Trophées et Reliques" :

Johanna Cartier : "Brilliante"

Laurent Perbos : "Ballon²"

ballon de commémoration de la victoire à la Ligue des Champions OM-AC Milan 1993

boule de bowling de John Fitzgerald Kennedy ; gant de Cassius Clay; chaussure de foot de Beckenbauer ; bombe d'équitation de Lady Diana; ballon de foot de Pelé; bonnet d'aviateur de Saint-Exupéry

ballons de rugby - 1930 ; à droite XIX-XXe s.

gants de boxe d'entraînement de Marcel Cerdan - 1944

[catsconflictscopicsandchamomile]

*deep, tired beowulf scholar sigh*

I know he has a big dick

several dozen loud drunk vikings and one very ostentatious big shiny meadhall made the size of his "manhood" VERY clear to everyone about 1500 years ago

I know Garth has a big dick ok

(still not over the fact that it took me OVER THREE YEARS of Spn Beowulf analysis to realize that the half-angel, half-old-norse-werewolf leader and strategist of the hunter community, whose name literally translates to "Guarded Fort, Son of the Spear King*" is Hrothgar. also his name is Garth and he's literally half-norse half-christian it is so, so stupid that I didn't notice this)

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

Sleeping in the mansion somewhere else, beside your room, can be a lottery.

You could wake up to...

🐯 Atsushi, in his tiger form, curled around you.

📒 Kunikida, mumbling about being irresponsible sleeper, while tucking you in.

🩺 Yosano taking care of your nails, giving you a hand massage.

🌨️ Junchirou using his ability, making you think, that you are sleeping in a cloud.

👩🏻 Naomi, preparing you a cup of your favorite beverage.

🍵 Kirako gushing over cat videos.

🛏️ Katai, putting his futon around you.

🐄 Kenji carrying you to your room.

🐰 Kyouka, offering you crêpes.

🕵🏻 Ranpo using you as a table for his snacks and a cuddle-pillow at the same time.

👘🗡️ Fukuzawa playing with your hands.

🦀🪢 Dazai plopping down on you, wanting cuddles.

💉 Mori, trying to take your measurements for your new piece of clothes.

🍷 Chuuya hugging you, while complaining to Dazai at the same time.

🌂 Kouyou quietly reading to herself.

🇫🇷 Verlaine letting you use his lap as a pillow.

�� Rimbaud using his ability to make sure you stay in a safe and quiet place.

🚩 Flags having a competition, of who can put the most blankets on top of you.

🧥 Akutagawa guarding you. And trying to put your hand on top of his head and get pets.

🔫 Higuchi trying to put accessories on you.

🚬 Hirotsu quietly talking about last big news.

🔪 Gin planning your next together time with Ryunosuke and her.

🩹🧲 Tachihara trying to sneakily hug you.

🍰 Elise drawing you a picture.

💎 Karma quietly thanking you for being the reason why Fyodor spared him.

⭐⭕ Kyuusaku building a pillow fort around you.

🍋 Kajii complaining to the fake scientific videos.

🍛 Oda petting your hair.

💰 Fitzgerald making another list of what to give you as a present.

🦝 Poe writing his next novel, with Karl snuggling with you.

🐋 Melville reading a newspaper.

🐙 Lovecraft making a hammock for you out of his tentacles.

🍇 Steinbeck watching a movie.

☕ In Annie's room, with Lucy discussing Atsushi with Annie.

🪶 Alcott leaving you a cup of coffee.

👒 Mitchell using her ability to make slight wind to keep air cool.

♊ Twain writing his book, discussing it with Huck and Tom.

✝️ Hawthorne going through library books and unintentionally making a book fort around you.

😷 Pushkin eating something, leaving an extra serving for you.

🫖 Goncharov making a whole meal for you.

🐀 Fyodor playing with your hair. Will always happen, if you sleep somewhere else, beside your room.

🦇 Bram trying to quietly ask you, how to use Internet.

🤡 Nikolai snuggling to you, burying his nose in the crook of your neck.

🃏 Sigma playing cards with himself.

⚔️ Fukuchi enjoying some alcohol.

👧👩👵 Teruko, giving commands to other Hunting Dogs, then putting a blanket over you, as an apology for waking you up.

💧 Jounou using you as a pillow.

🌸 Tetchou trying to feed you, while you are still sleepy. Will cuddle with you as an apology.

⛩️ Taneda playing checkers against himself.

💻 Ango doing some work and downloading something for you to watch/play.

🥷 Tsujimura writing a review about last spy movie she saw.

🕶️ Ayatsuji and his cats snuggling to you.

👻 Mushitarou mumbling about Ranpo and not letting him using you s a snack table.

⌚ André Gide silently guarding the room you are in.

🐉🍎🍏 Shibusawa making a catalog of his ability collection from the basement.

🐈‍⬛ Natsume snuggling with you in a cat form.

🤖 Adam monitoring your breathing and heart rate.

👧🏻 Aya reading mystery novels and trying to guess who is guilty.

🚸 Kousuke, Yuu, Katsumi, Shinji and Sakura playing.

🐅 BEAST! Atsushi, in a tiger form, chuffing and rubbing his head against you.

🥋BEAST! Akutagawa glaring at everyone, who dares to came near you.

🕴️BEAST! Gin doing paperwork.

📖 BEAST! Oda writing his novel.

📝 BEAST! Dazai is trying to plop on you and cuddle before OG! Dazai can.

⛓️ BEAST! Chuuya carrying to your room.

🧑‍⚕️BEAST! Mori trying to keep others far from the room, trying to let you sleep in peace.

👩‍⚕️BEAST! Elise playing with Oda kids.

🌨️👿 BEAST! Kuyoka guarding the room, while staying in the corner.

[deancasbigbang]

Arms Around His Angel

Author: blackhorsedances

Artist: stonelions

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Benny LaFitte/Garth Fitzgerald IV, Gabriel/Kali. Charlie Bradbury/Meg Masters; Jody Mills/Donna Hanscum. Past Dean and Lee Webb; Past Dean and Lisa Braeden; Past Dean and Benny LaFitte. Sam Winchester/Jess Winchester.

Length: 45831

Warnings: N/A

Tags: Alternate Universe. Inventor Castiel, Rancher Dean Winchester. Top Cas/Bottom Dean. Angst. Miscommunication. Hurt/Comfort. Smut. Fluff. Happy Ending.

Summary: “What’s Jack doing, Sam? Garth says he and Honeybee are out most days from breakfast until well after lunch. Jody says he packs peanut butter and banana sandwiches.” Sam shrugs. “He says he’s out visiting Mister Cas. I think he probably found the fort we built that one summer, and is holed up out there with sandwiches for his imaginary friends. Let it be, Dean. The heifers are out in the north pasture. The steers are in the east pasture. There’s nothing out by the fort to worry about.” “Snakes, Sam. There are snakes to worry about.” Sam looks at Dean across the kitchen island, and shakes his head, hair flopping over into his eyes. “You’re the one that told me that a mule will kill a snake faster than you can say ‘snake’, and I believe you because I’ve seen Honeybee do it. Let him be. Ben will be out of school in a couple of weeks, and he’ll be following Ben around like a puppy.” “Heh, you’re probably right.” Dean runs a hand down the back of his neck. “I know I am, Dean. You worry about all of us, but you worry too much. You can’t watch over everyone all of the time.”

Link to Fic | Link to Art

[lanihaluki]

Deleting my dating apps because I want to meet someone the old fashioned way (i meet this depressed human kid one day at stonehenge and learn he’ll be my first friend in the future but not really because im gonna be manipulating him and his friends the whole time so i can get my long lost family back and we can rule over all humanity together (yay!!!), but later end up going to two diff schools for magic and accidentally caring about him despite me being a human hater bc humans destroyed atlantis, only for him to ask me for help to destroy magic and i realize how evil my family really is and that everything they told me my whole life was a lie)

[justarandomidiot1]

oh my god have i ever posted this on tumblr i don't think i have

revenge of magic fans come get your crumbs

based on this classic image

[scritti-di-aliantis]

-----

(Foto: clever-mr-dickie)

"L’amore è la più saggia delle follie, un’amarezza capace di soffocare, una dolcezza capace di guarire." (William Shakespeare)

"Si ama eternamente tutto ciò che non si può avere." (Jules Renard)

"Ho conosciuto addii che volevano dire stringimi più forte." (Anonimo)

(Foto: omnibus444)

Le cose ti si dispongono vicine. A te la scelta. Ma non sottovalutare mai l'impatto dei tuoi pensieri su ciò che ti si sviluppa attorno. Il pensiero influenza grandemente ciò che ti accade. Non è solo un fatto di percezione: il pensiero secondo un dato filone X, farà accadere le cose in sintonia con quel tipo di pensieri e vibrazioni X. Se invece pensi Y, ti si disporranno le cose per Y.

"È difficile sederti accanto, e non baciarti." (Francis Scott Fitzgerald)

Aliantis

(Foto: kujot)

[fuji-iri]

hey where did this come from 🤨

I FINALLY FINISHED IT. phew. here’s an mock-up info page for haru allegro, my rain code OC!

might get into talking about her dynamics with the rest of the NDA and such later, but for now have this

official description under cut in case it’s hard to read:

Haru Allegro

Japanese VA: Sora Amamiya English VA: Allanah Fitzgerald

One of the Master Detectives dispatched to Kanai Ward. Her Forte is Soundproofing.

Despite being certified as a Master Detective by the World Detective Organization, she is more often recognized for her work as a contract advisor or an arbitrator. She is a versatile thinker and uses any information she gathers to her advantage, but at times she may be a bit dense and hold certain preconceptions that cloud her judgement.

Forensic Forte: Soundproofing The ability to block sound in a wide variety of spaces, as long as it is within a short distance from her.

————

also here’s a transparent version of her splash ⬇️

i also wrote my voice claims for her! for her japanese voice i was mostly imagining sora amamiya’s role as akame in akame ga kiru (though a bit stronger with her diction). for english, literally i just listened to fitzyVA / allanah fitzgerald’s voice demo and i knew her medium/lower voice was perfect

[ignalina-c0re]

W.I.P. Wednesday - Glideslope Estimation

IDK if there's somebody who reads these, but I'm doing them anyway :,D

I'm giving y'all a scene from Glideslope Estimation, the next bit of Stall Recovery Procedures, hopefully coming next Tuesday! It's going decently well, so if I don't get sick now, I'm gonna make it :3

without further ado, a dream:

It's overcast again, and Gale tells him about Bucky. * * * * It's overcast again, and Gale tells him about Bucky. * * * * It's overcast again, and Gale tells him about Bucky. * * * * It's overcast again, and Gale tells him about Bucky. * * * * It's overcast again, and…

* * * * Thunder roars all around Rosie, rain pelts the thin metal skin of the fort bucking like a wild horse under his hands, lightning flashes so bright it's searing afterimages into his eyes: dials going haywire, water droplets in a mad dash on the windshield, the yoke kicking and fighting; the presence of a man to his right. Rosie has only met John Egan twice, a year and a half ago, but heard and dreamt enough of him meanwhile that the impression is vivid, if not a little blurry around the edges: Bucky is broad and solid next to him, handsome face crinkled in a wolfish grin, teeth a little too sharp, eyes squinted into half-moons glowing electric blue with mirth. His hands are not on the yoke: instead, one is holding a cigarette he keeps smoking with impressive nonchalance, and the other is a warm weight on Rosie's knee, pressing him down on right rudder ever so often. The overtaxed engines whine and choke, and the airframe is screaming in agony; a tiny crack appears on the windshield by Rosie's head with a glassy little tink, and then races across to Bucky with a horrible crunching noise, mirroring the forked lightning dancing just outside. Rosie is pulling on the yoke with so much force his arms tremble with it, just to keep them from going into a nosedive. The air in the cockpit is heavy with the stink of ozone, fear and smoke. Bucky takes a long, lazy drag of his cigarette. "Not giving up, Major?" He's delighted, teasing, easy. He shouldn't know Rosie's rank: Rosie is there to fill the void he left. Rosie is using all his strength and concentration just to keep them level, but still manages to press out through gritted teeth: "Never." Bucky cackles at that, and pats Rosie's knee, like he's a stray dog who managed to fetch the stick. Then he begins to whistle a jaunty tune. Rosie realizes after the second bar that it's meant to be an uptempo version of Ella Fitzgerald's Blue Skies. The next flash of lightning swallows the whole world up in blinding white light. When Rosie's vision clears, they're flying through clear blue skies the color of Gale's eyes, and Bucky is laughing. He wakes with a start. Thunder rumbles to the beat of his rabbiting heart outside the barracks. His mother would cuff him upside the head for firmly believing, for one murky second, that Bucky Egan is some sort of god, steering them along even when his absence is a gaping wound. But really, what is a god to a non-believer?

[celticrobin-blog]

Best Served Cold

Vulpes Inculta x female courier

You are the Courier. At least you were. At twenty-six years old you have been travelling the Mojave for years as a man, under the guidance of your late ghoul father, Peeler, who named you Lucky.

Previously working for Mr House, you left his employment after he ordered you to take out the Brotherhood.

That was a sin even you couldn't commit, out of love for precious Veronica.

Now the Legion have won, and it's all your fault. At least according to you.

Now you and Arcade Gannon traverse the Wastes in an effort to meet the others in Zion, the only place devoid of Legion. But the relentless Vulpes Inculta stalks your every steps, seeking to bring you back to his master.

After all, with the prize for bringing you back alive being wedded a Legion princess, who wouldn't go after the renowned Courier Six?

Content warnings: Allusions to SA, Caesars Legion activity, slavery, sexism, violence.

AO3

You had told him, begged him not to go to Hoover Dam but Craig Boone had never been one for turning down hunting Legion.

The three of you, Aracade, Boone and yourself, were making your way back to Vegas with a horde of medical supplies. Stimpacks, med-ex, syringes, disinfectant, it really was a treasure trove Arcade had mapped out.

“This will help a lot of people back in Freeside,” he had commented, putting the stimpacks into his sack as the three of you exited the choking dusty vault.

“I’m sure Jules’ll make short work of it all,” you commented, the bottles of disinfectants muffled in your bag with your white scarf lest they break. They clattered lightly, safe and sound.

You were happy for the first time in a long time, the threat of Legion invasion had been steadily held off by the NCR.

And your former employer Mr House, last you heard he had a mysterious new right hand man.

He could do what he liked, you would no longer be his hands, tipping the hourglass of the Mojave

For you were content now to be the sand within it.

With the NCR and Mr House after all, how on earth could a bunch of skirt wearing gunless Legion boys compete, especially with the black eyes you continued to give them.

You and Boone of course had been hunting Legion for months now. Old Mormon Fort had been getting a steady supply of new recruits and patients due to your efforts.

The fat orange sun sank in the heliotrope of the sky, the vast plains mounded like some nymph laying down and posing, eating and swallowing it whole.

The noon’s hellish temperature made you pray for the cooling balm of the Mojave night.

And with the eye of a crisp white moon now looking down on you intrepid three, you set up camp.

There were jokes, pork and beans and a slig of whiskey. Boone even smiled at one point.

You and Arcade loved to dance, he was teaching you. He told you that people even used to have competitions for it before the bomb.

But Ella Fitzgerald was interrupted in the middle of her crooning.

It came crackling, an angel’s trumpet blare through ED-E’s radio. A foul and blunt swan song.

“A swarm of Legion have attacked an unsuspecting NCR garrison at Hoover Dam, mere moments after the death of New Vegas KingPin, Mr House,” Mr New Vegas voice failed to mirror the gravity of the situation. Though you suppose he was an AI.

“It is unknown how Robert House died or if it is somehow linked to the Legion attack due to the proximity of the events.

“There were a reported four thousand service men and women at the Dam. However, our sources on the ground indicate that the Legion out number them five to one.”

Mr. New Vegas babbled on, but the three of you had already known enough.

It was an arctic water being poured over you. You dropped the gun you were cleaning. It landed in the dirt with a soft thud.

“Well. That's it,” Arcade muttered matter-of-factly, as though he were diagnosing a child of strep throat.

What worried you was silent Boone. As silent as a vulture picked graveyard, silent as the gallows with its swinging ropes before the morning hanging.

You had only noticed his tanned stubbled jaw flexing. He was an undetonated mine that was just trodden upon.

You, and the others, Veronica, Cass, Raul and Lilly had an agreement. If the Legion took over, you would all head to Zion to avoid their wrath and see what there was to do about it.

You just hoped it would never come to it.

You and Arcade had pleaded with him. Regroup and plan in Zion, where it's safer than here.

But it was like telling a starving bear to retrain from pouncing on a fat wounded brahmin.

He trudged off into the desert, sniper rifle slung across his back that night. Then it was Arcade’s turn to argue with you to not go after him.

With where you were now of course, you too were a touch of the starving bear yourself.

But it was too late, the angel had blown his trumpet, the swan had already died.

You watch as they drag him through crowds of red. You can't hear the jeers but you know they are there.

The moon lit the dam so lovely too, how could something so beautiful look down on such horror?

Caesar’s men had burnt through the NCR like thin dry paper, an ant under the cruel ray of a child angling an empty Nuka Cola bottle on it.

Black smoke rose into a back sky, and crosses of poor souls lined the grey walls.

You watched through your scope, men cried, twitched and pulled on their ropes. For the first time you had hoped that Craig Boone was dead.

But he didn't die, Boone lived. And he was dragged like a criminal through the sea of red\.

Tears stung your eyes. You realise that a deal you and Boone made months ago would be needing that red rubber stamp.

He is thrown at the feet of the Legate, a towering beast. Words are exchanged though as Boone is held down to the bloodied ground in front of him.

The Legate gets on his level. Boone spits tobacco in his eye.

A bull is flashed red. The Legate waves him off and a cross is erected.

You shake like a newborn Brahmin being licked clean by her mother

“Boone.”

They beat him. Punching him in the face, the force knocking off his precious beret.

“Yeah?”

You bite your lip till it bleeds as tears run down your face.

“If the Legion catch, me and don't kill me right away. They’ll find out I'm a woman pretty quick most likely.”

They strap him to the cross. Tightening the rough ropes.

“Give me what you gave Karla. Mercy.”

You’re shaking. Your finger is on the trigger.

“As long as you do the same for me. I'm not letting those bastards get the satisfaction of killing me.”

They pull him up, you see him gasp in pain through your tears and scope. HIs chest is an inflating and deflating balloon in the anguish of his agony.

“I just hope…"

You aim at his head.

“...it never comes to it.”

Bang.

You sob, a kicked dog. You can't see the results of your actions.

Before they start looking for snipers, you have to start heading east to Zion Canyon. The only place devoid of Legion.

In your misery you sob into the dirt.

Then you hear boots.

That pulled you from the depths of your hysteria.

“Did you hear Caesar’s recent decree?”

Legion. Your blood boiled. The tell-tale ‘kuh’ when saying his blasted name.

They were making their way up the ledge you were situated on. Masked with malintent.

“About the profligate Courier?” Another said.

“Caesar wants him alive. And oh, I intend to deliver. He intends to wed one of his daughters to whoever brings him.”

“You’ll have plenty of competition brother.”

You heard enough.

A tempest of fury, machete in one hand, 10mm pistol in the other. You stopped in front of them and shot the first one you saw in the throat.

You hear the gurgling, like frying gecko meat. The other masked legionary scrambled for his spear. Raising it high, but you were on higher ground.

You slashed at his spear and cut it in two. He chucked them to the desert floor with purpose.

He reaches for his own as you draw closer. And like gladiators from old, you cross blades.

“You’re him?!” He gasps, glaring into your green eyes. You kick him in the stomach and he stumbles back down the slope. “Degenerate Vegas bastard, I’ll bring you to Caesar in chains."

In his own fury he slashed and hacked at you. But you were Courier Six, not some green recruit like him.

The blades sing their war like song as you battle. At the foot of the hill you are rabid, you want this thing to suffer.

Binding his blade and locking his veiny wrist in the process, you stab him in the gut. His own blade, thunked into the soil along with his bisected spear.

You always kept your blade clean and sharp, disembowelling him was no trouble. His pink-red guts spilled on to the sands before your feet.

You spit on his pre-corpse as he gasped. You thought of Boone.

You sat and watched, watched as he helplessly tried to scoop his guts back inside himself.

He looked at you, his blue eyes now pleading, before he finally collapsed into his own gore.

A rad storm raged in you, two was not enough for your blood price for Boone. No, you wanted Caesar’s head.

A craving, ravenous wendigo was this revenge inside you, a drooping skinned feral ghoul with his broken tombstone teeth seeking to eat flesh.

You could break a molar with your jaw as you ground your teeth like a mortar and pestle. You screamed, high pitched and feminine, a witch being burnt at the stake.

In a red rage you booted his gutted body, slashing it further till it became a stump of meat, gored with no limbs. In your fury you stabbed your machete to the ground and screamed again.

No amount of Legion, bastard, slave-son blood would fill the void of the person you were before you had to kill Boone. Nor would it fill the space he left.

You gasped and wept on your knees in the denouement of your raving. The ground was wetted by your tears.

You don’t know how long you stayed there. But it was hard to tell as black smoke choked the moon and stars.

You stabbed your machete to the ground and hoisted your sorry self up.

Then you stumbled, your vision doubled. And something wet grew in your right forearm.

Wincing, you flicked back your thin poncho and rolled up your white sleeve, which was now flowered with blood.

So the bastard did get you in your red scuffle.

Your wound was across your ulna and almost to the bone. It was a grinning red lipped sneer on your flesh.

Next thing you knew, there were two arms, three arms then four as your wound fizzed with purple pus.

Your sea-green eyes widen with intrigue, as geckos, miniature death claws and nightkin scampered out of the fissure of your skin.

Bastard. His blade was poisoned.

You grew hot and feverish, you collapsed, only to find boots.

“Nice shooting. Couldn’t have done it better myself.”

NCR regulated boots.

Your eyes were blurred, and you felt sick to your stomach, acid jostling like a half empty water bottle, but still you looked up.

His aviators were hanging on one ear and half dangled off his face. The right side of his head was gone along with his eyes which was now a crater of black, like the ones you found in the Big Empty.

His beret was still on, at least he would be happy about that.

“B-boone, I’m sorry, I just… I just couldn’t let the Legion make you suffer like that.”

You tried reaching up for help, but he smacked your hand away.

“This is your fault. ‘Lucky’, you had one job, do as you're told, bomb the Brotherhood. Then we wouldn’t be in this mess. What? Fifty tech hoarders and some girl’s friendship for the sake of thousands? For the Mojave?”

You knew it wasn’t Boone, this ghost of a man whose body isn’t even cold yet, but he tapped into your brain and spilled out thoughts you were too cowardly to entertain since ED-E’s radio broadcast.

“You’re… the poison in me.”

“You’re a fucking poison. Traitor.”

“Boone, forgive me.” you shambled forward like a feral with no legs, crawling on its elbows. You reached for his leg like a child pawing at her mother’s skirt. “I couldn’t do it. I’m sorry.”

He rotted away, his handsome face collapsing into bone, and collapsed before you could touch him, leaving you alone.

But you know you wouldn’t be for long, you still at least had your own mind to confirm that. Wounded and raw, a dizzy mess, you wobble on.

Arcade. You need Arcade. In your haste you left without your pack with your supplies and bandages.

You wandered through the wastes, heading back to the camp. You knew it was a journey of a few hours, but to you it felt like days.

You shambled, a drooping skinned victim of an atomic blast. Your boots kicked up the nuclear dust as you trudged.

You saw it in the distance, as you clung helplessly to a dusty rock, a hulking computer screen. It was half buried and dusty in the cancerous dirt. He flickered green on it.

You couldn’t bear to see your old boss. The one you should have convinced harder to spare the Bortherhood, for Veronica’s sake.

Reluctantly, you approach this new mirage.

“Well well,” he was always smug, Mr House was, “Enjoy the mess you have put yourself in? You really can’t get the staff these days. My other employee killed me with a golf club, my dear, a golf club. At least you would have had some style with it.”

You remember your first meeting with Mr House. The clean air of his tower, the strange securatron Jane who took your hat and poncho at the elevator door. The heavenly hot showers he offered after the meeting.

Oh, he clocked you straight away, the only one to do so.

“Don’t pretend I don’t notice, my dear. You can’t fool everyone with that formless shirt and faux voice you put on,” he had told you.

“I wouldn’t have killed you,” you croaked.

“You know, sweet girl, there is something worse than an evil action, one which further plunges the wasteland into further disarray, it’s inaction. Something you are fairly adept at.

"You fled from you responsibility to play wet nurse to those Freeside whelps. And your fondness for that scribe-girl has doomed us all. What was a few lives and her love compared to bringing my Vegas back to its glory days?”

“It ain't inaction, I made the decision to split with your bullshit. I’ve killed, but that was ‘cause I had to, they’d’ve killed me. I couldn’t do that to ‘em. To Vee.”

“You did it to Benny. You looked lovely in black that night, as you truly were as a woman. Luring him to his room like I told you, you were always a good dog. You could have let him have his way with you, kill him cleaner after the act, but you killed him bloodily before he could even kiss you."

“That was different,” you spat. “He shot me in the head. He deserved it.”

“Always with the barbaric yop. Shame you didn’t have that streak with the Brotherhood, did they ever thank you? Go on their armoured knees and kiss those filthy boots of yours? It could have been beautiful, you could have been great, but yet you plunged this foul desert into Tartarus.”

You took your 10mm pistol from your leg holster.

“I’ve heard enough of your shit.”

“You’ve heard enough of the truth, you know it yourself. This is your fault.”

You shot the screen, it fizzled and sparked, but that smug bastard’s face was splintered into fractals. You holstered it with a huff, and carried on.

–

You had been walking for what felt like hours.

Then you saw them. Legion.

In your chemical delusion you saw not men, but bull headed minotaurs hiding behind an empty pre-war fridge. Your hands leaving spectres of themselves in front of you.

They were hunched over a two headed bear, each eating its entrails.

“Focus on what’s real,” you told yourself. “The dirt's real. Gun's, my machete is currently a fucking hissing snake but it is still a blade really."

You had no ingredients to make anti-venom, nightstalker blood and radscorpion glands. Tangling with the latter now will only make you worse.

If those Legion ahead of you caught you, this assumed Legion thanks to your delirium, you would be dead or worse. You were too weak to take them by the blade, you hated wasting your bullets on enemies with no guns, but it looks like you would have too.

You were twenty meters away, and the snarling bulls conversed, their breath so hot it steamed the air.

Were they real? Were they a product of your poisoned mind? You didn’t want to find out the hard way.

You put your rifle on top of the fridge.

But before you could even shoot them, a figure emerged.

Another familiar one.

Your adopted dad, the wandering ghoul, all six foot eight of him in his leather armour and hat. He walked towards you painted in moonlight. Peeler, was always quick on the draw and he shot the three bulls with ease

Now you knew you were in the depths of sheer delusion.

“Damn kid,” he croaked roughly as he walked towards you. How you missed that voice. “You look worse than me and that's sayin’ somethin’. Gotta get up kid. Didn't call you Lucky for nothin’.”

You longed to hug him, to sob in your dead father’s arms. But you knew he'd disappear like vapor.

You treasured it, his peeling face, his lack of nose and exposed jaw, his tufts of brown hair under a worn cowboy hat.

You used your rifle to hoist yourself up.

“You know. Can't even be mad at that Legion bastard. Poison. Somethin’ I’d use. One final ‘fuck you’ to who ever killed me.”

You grunted as you stood.

“You've lost some colour kid, lookin’ kinda grey. You need to struggle on, survive for now no matter what. Make those bastard’s lives a living hell by living out of spite.”

You gasped in the parched air.

“I'm scared dad,” you whimper to the apparition.

“It’s normal to be scared, it’s what you do in response that matters. So, what’s it gonna be kiddo?”

Your vision doubles, triples, quadruples, till Dad is a spectre of four.

“I gotta find Arcade. Tell him everythin', then regroup in Zion. We can- we can find out what to do next.”

“Smart, you were always a smart kid. Good plan, not rash or nothin’. Last thing you want to do is charge in full speed to kill Caesar then end up dead. I don’t wanna see you in the afterlife just yet kiddo.”

You laugh bitterly.

“Still want that fucker dead."

He smiled, his scabbed flesh flaking. He turned around and walked on.

“Dad, where’re you goin’?”

“There’s somewhere you gotta go. C’mon.”

You stumble after him into the mirage of the desert. Until he disappears. In his visage, someone runs through Dad. Arcade.

“Lucky!”

You stumbled, but strong arms caught you.

“What happened to you?"

His eyes flicker to the brown stain on your sleeve, rolling it up, the budding scabs were peeled with it. Despite this, you felt nothing.

“This looks like poison, were you poisoned?”

You let out a breathy dry laugh, as you look into his kind blue eyes.

“Arcade. That man in the Tops was right. You do have lovely eyes.”

You were taken by blessed silence and sleep

[alonewolfr]

Gli era salita sulle scarpe abbracciandolo forte. Lui le aveva stretto il viso e lo aveva sollevato, come un libro aperto. “Pensa a quanto mi ami in questo momento”, gli sussurrò. “Non posso chiederti di amarmi sempre così, ma di ricordare sì. Da qualche parte dentro di me ci sarà sempre la persona che sono stasera”.

|| Francis Scott Fitzgerald - Tenera è la notte

[deancasbigbang]

Title: Arms Around His Angel

Author: blackhorsedances

Artist: stonelions

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester, minor Benny LaFitte/Garth Fitzgerald IV, Gabriel/Kali. Charlie Bradbury/Meg Masters; Jody Mills/Donna Hanscum. Past Dean and Lee Webb; Past Dean and Lisa Braeden; Past Dean and Benny LaFitte. Sam Winchester/Jess Winchester. Jack is Sam and Jess Winchester’s son.

Length: 36041

Warnings: No major archive warnings Content Warnings: Mention of James and Amelia Novak dying in an MVA (no gore, nothing on screen), mention of the humane slaughter of a steer (no gore, nothing on screen).

Tags: !Inventor Castiel. !Rancher Dean Winchester. Bisexual Castiel Novak. Semi-comfortably Bisexual Dean Winchester. Top Cas/Bottom Dean. Smut and fluff. Mostly safe sex. Hurt/comfort. Happy Ending.

Posting Date: October 14, 2024

Summary: Castiel Novak invented cutting-edge solar technology and left his position as CEO of Angelus, Inc. to protect himself and his technology from his dysfunctional brothers. He found safety on a 20 acre farm in Kansas with a pond, house, barn, and his trailer. When his twin and sister-in-law are killed, he’s drawn back into the business, and into danger, to protect his niece Claire and his technology. Dean Winchester rebuilt Winchester Ranch after John almost destroyed it. He has 500 acres of land, a ranch house, and a big barn. He raises American Wagyu beef. He’s a single Dad with a great son, Ben, a giant moose brother Sam and Sam’s wife Jess, and an adorable nephew Jack who roams around the ranch with his trusty sidekick, Honeybee, Dean’s old palomino mule.  Castiel and Dean meet accidentally at a hotel and share a night of wild–and completely anonymous–intimacy. When Castiel wakes up alone, with no note and no phone number from his ‘Cowboy’, he assumes that the night was a one and done, and regretfully moves on with his life. Dean keeps thinking about the ‘Angel’ that he spent a night with, but is pretty sure that he doesn’t deserve that kind of a guy in his life. Jack and Honeybee discover “Mister Cas” and inadvertently set the stage for ‘Cowboy’ and his ‘Angel’ to meet. But sinister forces are moving in the background. Will they be able to overcome the forces that are trying to keep them apart?

Excerpt: “What’s Jack doing, Sam? Garth says he and Honeybee are out most days from breakfast until well after lunch. Jody says he packs peanut butter and banana sandwiches.” Sam shrugs. “He says he’s out visiting Mister Cas. I think he probably found the fort we built that one summer, and is holed up out there with sandwiches for his imaginary friends. Let it be, Dean. The heifers are out in the north pasture. The steers are in the east pasture. There’s nothing out by the fort to worry about.” “Snakes, Sam. There are snakes to worry about.” Sam looks at Dean across the kitchen island, and shakes his head, hair flopping over into his eyes. “You’re the one that told me that a mule will kill a snake faster than you can say ‘snake’, and I believe you because I’ve seen Honeybee do it. Let him be. Ben will be out of school in a couple of weeks, and he’ll be following Ben around like a puppy.” “Heh, you’re probably right.” Dean runs a hand down the back of his neck.  “I know I am, Dean. You worry about all of us, but you worry too much. You can’t watch over everyone all of the time.”

DCBB 2024 Posting Schedule

[petiteblasee]

Desafio literário • 2024 | Leituras de agosto à novembro

★ 𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐎

Um livro que faça parte de uma série/trilogia

A Amiga Genial [Tetralogia Napolitana #1] - Elena Ferrante. Já dizia Lady Gaga: talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever been done before... e por aí vai. Fiz uma resenha sobre como essa história me arrebatou (ESTOU OBCECADA! | My Brilliant Friend - Elena Ferrante.), apesar do meu receio por conta do hype, e agora só vivo falando dessa obra por todo canto. Por esse motivo, não irei me estender, mas fica aqui a dica: LEIAM, PELAMOR!

Um livro publicado na década de 20

O Curioso Caso de Benjamin Button - F. Scott Fitzgerald. Apesar de não ser muito fã da adaptação, ela me trouxe até a obra original porque é impossível não ficar interessada numa história onde a vida ao avesso fosse possível, e foi uma leitura bem reflexiva. Nascer de forma contrária não importa muito quando a vida é implacável em mostrar como nosso anseio de viver como queremos, no momento que queremos, não será obedecido. Vamos nascer e morrer de forma limitada porque a humanidade é assim, e a sociedade criada não ajuda muito. É um conto curtíssimo mas bom demais para refletir sobre como viver da melhor forma possível.

★ 𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐑𝐎

Um livro que tenha como tema realeza

Uma biografia

Reinas Malditas - Cristina Morató. Essa biografia é bastante interessante porque evidencia a humanidade na realeza e como o privilégio não tira sofrimento algum - ainda assim, preferia sofrer sendo rica. É muito forte falar que algumas mereceram o destino, mas não aguento que parte delas não sofreriam tanto se tivessem feito o básico. Enfim, uma vida alheia à necessidade básica aliena bastante e torna suas prioridades pequenas demais diante da vastidão que é governar um povo. Que tenham encontrado a paz e liberdade que tanto almejavam nos últimos segundos de vida.

★ 𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐁𝐑𝐎

Um livro com apenas um nome no título

Galateia - Madeline Miller.

Uma história curta com uma tema delicado onde nada ficou faltando é de se admirar, e a madeline me conquistou de vez com essa capacidade.

Não me recordo de ter conhecido o mito antes, mas sei que a minha criação seria capaz de me fazer pensar que essa história seria um lindo romance e adorei ter visto esse outro lado.

Não me estenderei: leiam!

Um livro inacabado

Blues - Robert Crumb. Sinopse: "Blues" é uma homenagem de Robert Crumb para a música "dos antigos", em especial para a música negra norte-americana do inicio do século XX. Seres legendários como Robert Johnson, Charles Patton, Jelly Roll Morton e seus demônios passeiam por essas páginas, junto com todos aqueles gênios anônimos, amadores apaixonados por uma música verdadeiramente popular, anteriores aos esquemas comerciais da grande Industria Cultural. São histórias que Crumb foi construindo através dos anos , que mostram e criticam as evoluções da musica popular através do século XX. Queria conhecer mais sobre o BLUES e até que trouxe histórias interessantes, mas a forma com que o autor resolveu misturar as histórias me deixou um pouco confusa. Ainda assim, vale a pena a leitura para quem é fã do gênero literário e musical.

★ 𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐑𝐎

Um livro que é uma reeleitura

Geekerela - Ashley Poston.

Recontos da cinderela sempre servindo ao tirar a ressaca literária com a história gostosinha de uma sofredora dando a volta por cima depois de tanta humilhação e aqui melhora muito com a pitada bem geek de uma fã que encontra no mundo ficcional uma forma de lidar com a realidade do mundo.

Aqui a roda não é inventada, mas a criação de um universo tão aconchegante e inspirador que é Starfield é muito bacana, e a forma com que ele une os protagonistas é divertido demais. A gente sabe qual será o fim, mas isso não atrapalha a ansiedade que vem quando acompanhamos a jornada.

E como o livro fala sobre a força de uma adaptação, espero que esse livro tenha uma e ela seja uma deliciosa romcom nerd. É uma ótima leitura para um feriado.

Um livro ambientado num lugar que deseja conhecer

História do Novo Sobrenome [Tetralogia Napolitana #2] - Elena Ferrante.

"No mundo não havia nada a ser vencido (…) o tempo simplesmente deslizava sem nenhum sentido, e era bom encontrar-se de vez em quando só para ouvir o som disparatado do cérebro de uma ecoando no som disparatado do cérebro da outra."

Eu coloquei esse livro no desafio de "um lugar que deseja conhecer" só porque estava presa na história e PRECISAVA encaixar ela no meu desafio mensal sem me sentir culpada por deixa-la de lado e terminei a leitura totalmente presa à lila e lenu nessa vida completamente caótica. A mão da lina eu não soltei em momento algum, e olha que ela se entregou ao desassossego de uma forma que colocou o mundo dela e os seus abaixo, mas como não fazer? Como não se permitir viver o pouco de prazer que a vida oferece? Ela, que tanto foi oferecida como moeda de troca, precisou redescobrir suas vontades e desejos, mesmo que isso a aproximasse da fatalidade.

Foi por uma pessoa bastante duvidosa? Sim; mas não julgarei.

E o que dizer da lenu cada vez mais reconhecendo que não consegue se afastar porque isso é a chama que a move? A lenu seria uma excelente acad��mica sem a vivência no bairro ao lado da lila, mas ela nao teria o que desperta nos outros a vontade de permanecer na sua escrita pela ordem e força com que as histórias e análises dela são colocadas.

Para além das relações entre as duas, eu me senti totalmente jogada no abismo com a mudança de todos ali. Tornar-se adulto não é fácil, e naquele contexto é pior ainda, então esperava a decaída de alguns, mas não deixei de lamentar a perda da pouca inocência e as diversas decisões equivocadas seguidas porque foi assim que a vida se apresentou.

Enfim, eu poderia fazer um podcast de 50 horas sobre esse livro e ainda faltariam coisas, então só leiam e entendam o motivo dessa história ser colocada como uma das melhores dos últimos tempos.

Enfim por hoje é só. Duvido muito que eu consiga finalizar o desafio de dezembro, mas não me preocuparei porque cheguei até aqui com leituras incríveis, então valeu a pena. Caso a eu do futuro consiga tempo para finalizar, retorno para atualizações. Até!