#god that was Brian for his twenties too

[nimbus-cloud]

The fact that Brennan and Murph call a serving of vegetables "medicine" proves that they just wait until they can feel the scurvy setting in before they finally eat A Vegetable.

[achenetype]

Hihi can you please do a Luke x reader where it’s basically an unrequited love like reader is so in love with Luke and he has no idea so she moves on and years later she’s over him and confesses to him like a oh I thought you should know and the whole time Luke had been in love with her, kinda base it off that one TikTok audio where it’s like “I’m not in love with you anymore” “I never knew you were” 🩷🩷

OHH YOURE FEEDING MY ANGST BRAIN WITH THIS ONE. buckle up lets break some hearts

edit: this ended up being WAY sadder than i originally intended. i am so sorry anon oh my god

i gave you a rare gift (but you didn't want it) — luke castellan

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

word count: 2.8k

content: angst, major character/reader death, unrequited love, mutual pining, reader is part of kronos' army, luke and reader are doomed by the narrative, [Y/N] used (sparingly), alcohol mention, description of injury

listening to: bloodfest (from mizumono) by brian reitzell

You are twenty-two years old, sitting on the rocky beach of a lake somewhere in the forests of upstate New York. Light, gentle fog hangs in the air around you, and the only sound is the tap-tap-tap of Luke skipping rocks across the water.

Come dawn, the world will burn. The gods will be dethroned. Every demigod will either be free, or dead.

But now, at midnight, you are twenty-three and Luke turns to you. He's holding a small, squashed cupcake in one hand. "Happy birthday," he says, "to my right-hand man." He pauses. "Woman. Right-hand woman."

He holds the pastry out to you and smiles, but something behind his eyes is empty. Hollow. He hadn't been sleeping recently. As much as he tried to hide it, he couldn't stop you from seeing when he came to you every morning for a cup of coffee and to debrief for the day.

Perks of being the revolution leader's best friend, you think. His right-hand woman.

Luke's eyes flick from the cake to your face. "Do you like it?" He asks, and for a split second, you swear there's a note of hope in his voice. "I wanted to do something, y'know," he says. "Twenty-three is huge. It's a monumental age."

You nod, but stay quiet.

He pauses for a second. "You remember how you always said you wished you never had a birthday?"

When you were twelve, nearly thirteen, your mother drove you across the country to go to summer camp.

"It'll be like a road trip," she said, tossing your duffel bag into the back seat of her battered car. "And then, hey, you'll only stay at camp until the end of August, and then you can come back and go to school. See all your friends again." She squeezed your shoulder and pushed the car door closed. "How about that?"

"Sure," you said. "Super fun."

And it was; you were actually kind of excited. You'd never been to New York. It seemed a million universes away.

And it was your birthday tomorrow. Maybe this was a gift, something that your mother had put together to make up for the years of being too tired and too drunk to make a cake, or get presents, or anything.

Your mother put her hands on her hips and sighed. "You know how I feel about the attitude, yeah? Let's not do this today."

"I wasn't even trying to—" You cut off as your mother glared at you, her face tense. You knew that look: the biting-the-inside-of-her-cheek, trying-to-be-understanding, trying-to-be-a-good-mom-despite-it-all look.

You hated that look.

"Just..." She sighed. "Just get in the damn car, [Y/N]."

You did, fighting back the tears building in the corners of your eyes, and the slam of the car door closing was as loud as thunder.

Twenty silent minutes of city streets and highway merge ramps and cold, empty stretches of asphalt and concrete passed before either of you spoke.

"Mom," you said, thirty-three seconds into minute twenty-one, "I'm sorry for talking back earlier." Your voice was quiet, shaking, cupped in your throat like a scared animal.

She didn't answer, keeping her eyes fixed on the road.

"I don't like being like this, Mom," you said, looking over at her. The silhouette of her through the driver's side window, backlit by the streetlights, was shapeless. Impassive. "I don't like doing this with you all the time."

She scoffed.

You pulled your legs to your chest, tucking your head between your knees, and tried to find sleep.

You weren't sure how long you slept, but you woke up to the sound of music playing softly over the speakers. Exit signs whizzed past you at what felt like breakneck speed. You wondered, briefly, if you would break your neck if you jumped out of the car right now.

Ultimately you decided against it. You didn't want your mother's last words to you to be, get in the damn car.

That would make her feel guilty, you thought, and that guilt would make her hate me even more.

"I don't wanna fight," you tried instead, picking at a loose thread in the cuff of your jacket sleeve. "Mom, I'm sorry, okay? I don't want us to be mad at each other anymore," you said. A sob caught in your throat, heavy and wet and choking.

Your mother sighed and reached one hand from the wheel to tuck your hair behind your ear. "I know you don't, sweetie," she said. "I don't want to be mad at you either."

"Then why do you do it," you asked.

When she turned to look at you, her eyes were wet. She smiled, or tried to. "Sometimes, certain people just…can't help but fight," she said. "It's just part of who we are, I think."

"Did you fight with Dad?"

Your mother inhaled, quick and sharp through her nose, as she flicked the turn signal to right and guided the car down the exit ramp from the highway, her eyes locked ahead. "Yes," she said. "Sometimes. Sometimes I think that's where we get it."

You swallowed. "Do you ever miss him?"

She doesn't peel her gaze away from the road. "Every day."

The two of you made your way through bustling streets and across too many bridges to count. You thought you fell asleep again, for a minute or maybe a year. Maybe it was all a dream.

"Mom," you asked as she turned onto a worn dirt road, the sunrise barely stretching over the horizon, "why are you bringing me here?"

She didn't answer for a moment. Two moments, then three. Through the leaves, you saw one tree standing impossibly tall. A pine tree.

Your mother parked the car and turned to you. "Because I don't know what to do with you, [Y/N]," she said. "I don't know how I can keep you," she paused, "safe. How I could do this, on my own, in any normal way."

She got out of the car and grabbed your bag, shoving it against your chest. "Camp is just up that hill there," she said, gesturing in the direction of the large tree you'd seen earlier. "They’ve got people up there waiting for you."

"Mom," you said. "Wait, I—I wanted to talk to you—"

She shook her head. "I can't come with you, sweetie." She smiled, the curve of her mouth falling just short of her eyes. "You just remember that I love you, okay?"

At that moment, you knew: she was going to leave you here.

“No,” you said, tears rolling down your face. “No, no—Mom. Mom, please.”

“Before you go,” she said, her voice tight and sharp, “I wanted to give you this.” She reached into the back seat and pulled out a jacket, worn leather with patched elbows. “It was mine in college,” she explained, not meeting your eyes. Like she was reading from a play or book, and you were the unfortunate audience. “I figure, it doesn’t fit me anymore.” 

She pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Happy birthday, baby.”

It was the first time you had ever felt like your mother loved you. You knew she liked you, sometimes. But you were never quite sure if she loved you until that moment. 

And then she got back into the car with one final, teary nod. 

And you never saw her again.

“Yeah,” you tell Luke, shrugging. “I think I’ve got a pretty good reason, though.” Your lips curve into a smile.

He laughs and tilts his head. It’s a habit of his; he’ll say something and twist his neck just a fraction, narrow his eyes. A nervous tic that not even years of training and fighting and killing could stamp out.

You used to think about kissing his neck when he did it, but now you’re not sure whether you would know the difference between kissing and ripping his throat out. 

“True,” Luke concedes. You laugh, too, unrestrained and loud. “Gods, your sense of humor is dark.”

“You laughed first,” you remind him. He grins.

The cupcake he offers you, despite its lumps and smears of frosting, is pretty good. You split it apart with careful fingers and hand half of it back to him.

“You’re celebrating with me,” you laugh, “so you get half. That’s the rule.”

Luke simply smiles at you and takes the crumbling cake from your hand. “Whatever you say.”

You roll your eyes, grinning back. “Damn right.”

Luke’s laugh rings out again, sharp and bright against the night sky. Firelight flickers across his face, painting him in brilliant streaks of orange and gold. 

“After tomorrow,” Luke murmurs, pulling his knees up to his chest, “we can do this whenever we want.” The wind ruffles his hair almost fondly, floppy brown curls stirring and settling back against his skull.

You raise an eyebrow. “This?”

He gestures in a wide arc. “Be here, like this. Just be people, instead of demigods or heroes or revolutionaries.” Luke’s voice picks up, conviction surging into his words. “I mean, seriously—when was the last time you thought you would ever have a normal life?”

You’d never understood the demigods who joined Luke’s cause without knowing him. The plan itself seemed crazy—the only way anyone would follow it was if they knew their leader could pull it off. 

You have to know Luke to know he was capable of that, you think.

Until now. Now, you see what you think everyone else sees—a real leader, a revolutionary. A force for change with a silver tongue.

He makes it all seem so possible. You almost think he might pull it off.

Luke looks over to you. “We’re going to change everything,” he says. 

Almost.

“We’re going to change the rules,” Luke said, spreading the map over an empty cot in his cabin. “If we want to win, we need to be thinking six steps ahead of the enemy.”

A few of the campers huddled around the makeshift table shuffled and coughed awkwardly. 

“Every strategy’s been done before,” a tall girl with bubblegum-pink hair and an eyebrow piercing shouted from the back of the group. “How are we going to out-war the god of war’s kids?” 

Murmurs rushed around the table, soft and susurrant. There’s no way we’re going anywhere here. We’ve gotten our asses beat six weeks in a row. What are we even doing?

Luke smiled. “Ares is the god of war,” he said, “not strategy.” He slung his arm around one of the campers next to him and inclined his head in the direction of the map.

Quietly, almost too quiet for you to hear, he murmured into the girl’s ear. “Don’t doubt yourself, Bethy,” he whispered.

You learned three things in the ten minutes that she spent explaining your team’s new strategy—

—one, your team was going to kick some major ass—

—two, your strategist’s name was Annabeth Chase, and she was the smartest eight-year-old you have ever met—

—and three, Luke was right.

Annabeth’s plan took the rules of Capture the Flag and threw them out the window. She split the team into four subgroups, each with a delegated leader. Luke nodded along as she talked, marking the map with a stubby pencil. 

When Annabeth’s eyes, dark and piercing, searched the crowd and landed on you, you felt your heart stop.

“You,” she said, “are you good with a sword?”

You raised your eyebrow, pointing to yourself—just to confirm this genius child was speaking to you—and Annabeth nodded. 

“I guess?” You said, shrugging. “I know some basic stuff, and I’m good at disarming.”

Annabeth’s face broke into a smile. “Work with Luke on the first wave of offense.” She gestured to the map. “You two will take points B and B-one,” she explained. “My group will take the A-points. You wait for our signal to move in.”

You met Luke’s eyes across the table. Hey, you mouthed. 

His eyes flicked up and down your form. Hey, he mouthed back. You ready to win?

You smiled and nodded.

Good, Luke said, all teeth. Let’s go.

He stood and grabbed his helmet. You did the same.

“I’m [Y/N],” you said as you followed Luke through the forest. “We, uh—we met when I first got here, like, a year ago.” I was sobbing my eyes out because my mother abandoned me, you didn’t add. It was kind of pathetic. I think I threw up from crying so hard.

You suddenly hoped Luke didn’t remember meeting you, actually. That would be less embarrassing.

He turned and caught your eye. “You live in the same cabin as me. ‘Course I know you.” 

Of course he remembers.

You laughed, flushing red. “Oh. Yeah. Of course.”

The silence was so thick, you could have cut it with the sleek bronze of your sword.

In the end, it was Luke who broke the silence. “You wanna play a game while we wait out here?”

You shrugged. “Sure,” you said. 

“Twenty questions,” Luke replied. “So we can learn enough about each other to actually work together.” He smiled. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Low-hanging fruit,” you said, your voice just barely taking on a teasing tone. “It’s green.” 

Luke laughed, loud and full and bright. “Apologies,” he said; mirth crept into his words, staining everything with a tinge of that laughter. “I’ll go for the more gut-wrenching, intimate questions next time.”

You flushed red again. Intimate questions. What the hell does he mean by that?

“My turn,” you said instead. “What do you want to be when you get older?”

“We’ll be heroes,” Luke whispers. “Real heroes. Not figureheads propped up by the gods.”

You wish you could believe him. He’s lying on the beach next to you, his head resting in the junction between your shoulder and your neck. Over the treetops, the stars are beginning to fade from the sky.

It’s almost time.

Your throat feels like someone has sanded it down to expose your vocal cords. This is a bad idea, you want to say. We shouldn’t do this. Tell me we can still not do this. 

“Wanna play twenty questions?” You say, crackling and hoarse.

Luke turns to look at you. “Yeah,” he murmurs. 

“My turn first,” you whisper. Luke nods.

You take a deep breath, in and out. “Are we going to die doing this?”

Luke inhales sharply. “Maybe,” he says. Slowly. Deliberately. “But we’ll do everything we can to make sure we don’t.”

“I got another question,” you say. Luke raises an eyebrow. His knuckles brush yours as you sit up.

“Are you scared?”

It’s your birthday. 

You think you’re going to die. 

Luke is kneeling over you, the palm of his hand pressed against the wet opening in your stomach where someone had caught you with a spear. The shaft of it is still sticking out of you, you think. You’re afraid to look down, afraid to see it. 

“No,” Luke gasps, “no, no, no.”

You watch as the gold fades from his eye, leaving behind the honey-dark brown you remember. His hands are slick with blood—most of it’s probably yours, it has to be yours. You’re bleeding out, after all. 

You tug on Luke’s sleeve weakly. “Hey,” you breathe. “Luke. It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“No,” he says. “You’re—you’re hurt.”

“I know,” you rasp. “I know it hurts. I’m the one—” 

You break off as a cough sticks in your throat. It feels wet. Oily. Desperate to get out. You taste the blood in the back of your throat before you can even take another breath.

“—I’m the one who’s feeling it,” you finish, your voice tilting up at the end. A joke. Gods, your sense of humor is dark.

Luke laughs weakly. “Don’t talk,” he says. “You’re gonna be just fine, [Y/N], just fine.”

He meets your eyes. You see him realize it in slow motion.

Tell him. Tell him now. He’s never going to know otherwise—he could die any minute—

“Luke,” you murmur. “Luke, did you know I loved you?”

He freezes. “What?”

You cough again. Blood spills over your lips. “I loved you,” you repeat. “Since we were campers. Had the…the biggest, stupidest crush on you.”

Luke shakes his head. “No, no,” he says. “You—”

“You’re my best friend,” you continue. “Whatever feelings were there, you’re my best friend.”

Luke’s palm against your stomach is warm. It feels safe. It feels like sleeping side-by-side in the cabin, like shared meals and shared secrets. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Luke says, “why are you—why?”

You blink, just once, but it takes everything you have to open your eyes again after closing them. “Because I’m going to die,” you whisper. “And even if—even though I moved on, I wanted you to…to know.”

Luke bows over your body, pressing his forehead to yours. Tears slip from his cheeks and fall onto yours, driving little rivers through the blood smeared there.

He’s crying. Why is he—

“You idiot,” Luke says brokenly. “I loved you too. I loved you too.” He cradles your head in his lap, brushing your hair away from your face. “[Y/N], I’m so sorry.”

Your eyes slip shut.

I loved you too, Luke’s voice echoes. I loved you too.

[incorrectcreepypastafam]

Creepypasta As Hazbin Hotel

Ben: so what do you think

Jeff: I’m sorry what the fuck was that

Helen: we’re not filming a porn as a commercial

Puppeteer: why not

Nina: I like being forced

Jeff: keep that to yourself, Nina

Nina: Puppeteer sir

Puppeteer: call me dickmaster

Nina: Puppeteer.

Nina: it’s a solution to our biggest problem

Jeff: oh yeah herpes that’s a bitch

Nina: no our other biggest problem

Jeff: oh uh ugly people?

Jeff: math?

Jane: face my wrath

Jeff: who are you

Jane: I attacked you literally last week

Jeff: ?

Jane: we’ve done battle like twenty times

Jeff: well you must’ve been really bad at this

Liu: oh god, here I go, Jeff. just another fucking day with Jeff. hey hey hey fuck my life

Liu: looks like you have everything under control here

Lyra: of course I do, fuck you, now shoo, go take care of the piss baby

Liu: so you should…?

Jeff: do nothing?

Liu: great idea!!

Toby: you still pissed he almost beat you that time?

Jeff: uh fuck you

Toby: just saying

Sally: *gasp* the bad boy is back

Sally: never leave me again

Brian: we’re about 80% sure she’s harmless

Jeff: this is stupid

Lyra: this is not stupid!

Lyra: it’s just the GAMEEEEE

Lyra: Liu did it well so please try to do the same!

Jeff: I’m too sober for this

Jeff: I’m looking forward to stabbing the other residents

Slenderman: WHAT WHY

Slenderman: people are being nice because they want you to feel welcome

Jeff: *middle finger*

Liu: *middle finger*

Toby: *laughs evilly*

Nina: I have my doubts

Tim: Puppeteer’s minions are all over the place and I need you to get rid of them

Jeff: oh well in that case I’d be delighted to

Tim: humanely

Jeff: well that’s a lot less fun

Jeff: this time everyone has to catch him, okay? Unless you want me to hurt you

Jeff: I love to suck-

Tim: I swear to fuck if you say dicks

Jeff: popsicles, you sicko! Get your mind outta the gutter

Jeff: but you know, dicks too

Sally: sometimes I kill mother bugs in front of their children as a warning to others

Jeff: NINA?!

Clockwork: uh my name’s Clocky

Jeff: no one gives a shit

Jeff: call me fake one more time, motherfucker

Jeff: i dare you

Toby: fake

Jeff: fucking asshole- *hits his head on roof*

Toby: you done?

Liu: Lyra, sweetie, you uh you good?

Lyra: nope no not really!

Sally: maybe it’s time

Lazari: no

Sally: to ask

Lazari: don’t say it

Sally: your dad

Lazari: UGHHHHHH

Lyra: wait that’s it

Jeff: kill everyone?

Lyra: noooooo

EJ: what’s the hold up?

EJ: you got daddy issues?

Lulu: no we’ve just never been close

Lulu: after Mom died he never really wanted to see me

Lulu: he calls sometimes but only if he’s bored or needs me to do something

EJ: daddy issues

Brian: this is the first time she’s called you in years

Brian: this has to be perfect

Brian, picking up the phone: HEYYYY BITCH

Jeff: you may have heard of me from my radio broadcast

Tim: hmmm NOPE I guess that’s why Toby called it the Hazbin Hotel hahaha

Jeff: hahaha it was actually my idea

Tim: hahaha well it’s not very clever

Jeff: haha fuck you

Toby: OKAY

Brian: you like girls! so do I! We have so much in common

Clockwork: how you been?

Jeff: good! Until five minutes ago

Sadie: hey Sally what you been up to, girlie?

Sally: fighting bugs

Sadie: and how’s that going for you

Sally: they’re winning

Sally: but not for long

Lulu: how come he can have faith in me but my own father can’t?

Jeff: oooooh drama *pulls out popcorn*

Slenderman: hi

Slenderman: Slenderman

Slenderman: that’s my wall that you just blew up

Jeff: don’t fucking shush me bitch

Sadie: I need a break but hug a koala for me

Nina: omg can you imagine an actual KOALA

Jeff: anyway you sure fucked up didn’t you

Jeff: oh Lyra, you look an absolute mess

Sadie: I won’t hurt anyone for you

Jeff: who’s asking?!

Ben: Jeff and Toby just left like they were running away from their responsibilities

Ben: should we be alarmed?

Helen: are you fucking high?

Lulu: oh I’m just kidding

Lulu: I know you’re an ace in the hole

Ann: a what now?

Sally: I named all the stains on the carpet

Sally: that one’s Fred

Liu: look I can’t resist a fight okay

Liu, about Jeff: especially when I get to tag team with this fuckhead

Lyra: live tonight however you want because-

Toby: we’re all gonna die!

Dina: alright let’s give it up for not dying!

Dina: love not dying!

Dina: … drinks?

Jeff: I mean personally I’m excited it’s been a long time since I stabbed someone and really meant it you know what I mean

Lazari: I dub thee king roach

EJ: oh to understand your twisted little mind

Jeff: anyway I guess

Jeff: please don’t die tomorrow

Jeff: okay bye

Lyra: rip Jane’s cunt mouth out her ass

Jeff: would you just- chill, Lyra, fuck

Zero: they appear to have some kind of shield sir

Puppeteer: oh really? I didn’t see this giant fucking shield in front of me YOU DUMB BITCH NO SHIT

Jeff: I’m about to end your fucking life

Puppeteer: fuck you, you red piece of- too much fucking red- fuck shut up

Ben: hahaha poetry

Jeff: what just happened? Ffffuck

Toby: these fucking angels won’t stop coming

Jeff: HA

Toby: okay I walked right into that one

Jane: Before I take your life I’m going to tear that other eye out of your face

Clockwork: try it bitch

Jeff, to Jane: live

Jeff: live knowing that you only do because I let you

Slenderman: see you messed with my daughter so now I am going to FUCK you

Zalgo: …

Clockwork & Lyra: …

Jeff: 😏

LJ: well this just got interesting

Sally: it’s fuck you up, Dad

Slenderman: wait what did I say?

Liu: how’s mercy taste, you little bitch

Slenderman: take your little friends and GO HOME

Slenderman: please

Puppeteer: I’m The Puppeteer

Helen: and I’m-

Puppeteer: nobody gives a shit who you are, Helen

Zero: anyway congrats to Slenderman and his crew for not being totally fucking useless for once

[ladykailitha]

The Harrington Pattern Part 7

Hello! It's Tuesday and that means more Steve and Eddie. And it's looking like the story will end in chapter 12. It might take one more than that, but it's definitely almost done.

So what will that mean? Well, I'll start working on working on another story to bring it back up to two, but will still only work on the others on WIP Wednesday because I'm trying to get down the amount of WIPs I have running. I have far too many.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Day two of the Fair. Will sees Steve and Steve reveals a little trick. And Steve has to be stern mom again.

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @redfreckledwolf @emly03 @itsall-taken

****

Steve picked up his usual set and went to the Renaissance Fair. This time they were the first to arrive and they stood there waiting for the rest of them to show up.

He had left the spirit gum with Mrs Sinclair and she was able to do an even better job then he had yesterday putting the ears back on.

The bow and quiver had been left behind today because sadly the poor bow had been a mangled, tangled mess by the time they left the fair yesterday.

Max and Robin’s cutlasses had fared better because they never left their sides, but even slung over Lucas’s shoulder, the poor aluminum just couldn’t bare the brunt of the crowds. And today was going to be even busier.

Steve looked at his watch and then back at the growing crowd waiting in line.

He tapped his foot nervously when he saw the familiar van pull into the lot. And the merry band of fellows hopped out, wearing the outfits they had yesterday. The ones that made Steve green with envy on how well they were put together.

It was like they had just walked off the set of a Hollywood movie.

He was good with a needle and thread, but whoever made their costumes should be making money off it, they were that talented.

Jeff came around to the other side of the van where Steve could see him and his ears looked great too.

“Looking good, Lawrence,” Steve whistled. “The ears are vastly improved.”

Jeff bowed dramatically. “Why thank you, my liege! I had my sister help me pick out the right color and type I needed and then I did it myself.”

Gareth snorted. “After practicing all night.”

Brian elbowed their youngest member. “It’s just like trying to get a beat right, you have to practice. Don’t give him shit for that.”

Gareth grumbled, but muttered a half-hearted apology to Jeff. The older teen just grinned at his friend.

Which after how crazy yesterday was, Steve wasn’t looking forward to a repeat if Jeff took offense to Gareth’s comment.

Eddie had been unusually quiet during this conversation, so while they milled around waiting for the remaining third of their group, Steve came up to him.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, leaning down and forward to get a better look at the metalhead.

Eddie pursed his lips, but he nodded.

“You know, I have been dying to ask...”

Eddie smiled softly. “Who’s my tailor?”

Steve cackled. “Yeah, that. God, I would gleefully sacrifice one of the teenagers for the material alone, let alone the thread.”

“Which one?” Eddie asked, coming a little bit more out of his shell.

Steve reared back his head. “What?”

“Which one of the teenagers you would sacrifice?” Eddie asked again.

“Dustin,” Steve said without hesitation. “I figure virgin,” he counted on his fingers, “check, most annoying, check, and the one who would be the biggest... ‘value’ as it were, double check.”

Eddie laughed outright. “You don’t have to sacrifice any of them. Brian’s sister works at a big theater, the kind that do plays, as their costumer.”

Steve sighed and rubbed a bit of the black velvet between his thumb and forefinger. “You guys are so lucky.”

Eddie laughed again. “Trust me, even Bri had to pay for the privilege.”

Steve’s eyes lit up. “Oh?”

“Yup!” Eddie said, rocking back on his heels. “We had to pay for all the material and patterns ourselves, plus at least twenty-five percent of labor. These duds may be pretty, but lo they be also pricey.”

“Well, it was certainly worth it,” Steve murmured. “You guys look fantastic.”

Eddie’s cheeks colored a pretty pink. “Thanks. Um...mine is actually based on a character from a short story. Brian’s mom is Polish, but she loves sc-fi and fantasy so she gets this magazine, right?” Steve nodded. “So, anyway she’ll translate into English for Brian to read. It’s about this male witch and he has this minstrel friend named Jeskier...” he pronounced it strange, like yes-keer. “I’m probably pronouncing it wrong. But he’s so cool.”

“So you’re this minstrel guy?” Steve asked, suddenly understanding.

Eddie hummed excitedly. “Brian even went as one of the male witches. Not the main one though. But it’s still fun, you know?”

Steve smiled back. “Yeah. I never would have thought about going as a specific character before. Maybe we can plan something for next year.”

Whatever cloud leftover that was lingering over Eddie vanished in the light of Steve’s bright smile.

Eddie bumped his shoulder into Steve’s. “What’s on the docket today, pretty boy?”

Steve blushed bright red, but before he could answer, Claudia’s station wagon pulled up next to them. The four kids piled out, happily chatting and laughing. Well all but Mike.

Mike had always been a reserved kid, but as he got older, the more withdrawn he seemed to get. Will seemed to do the opposite. The kid was really coming out of his shell and into himself. And maybe that was the reason for Mike’s shrinking back.

Steve just shook his head and turned to Will. “Still no Jonathan?” he teased.

Will rolled his eyes. “He said and I quote ‘I’ll see about maybe Saturday’.”

Steve winced. He couldn’t make Jonathan come, but he could see how much Jonathan coming would mean so much to Will and it made his heart hurt just a little.

“Can’t force someone to have fun,” he said with a shrug. “It really is his loss.”

Will nodded sagely, like the mature person he was forced to become far too soon. “But! He did give me the ten dollars I needed for the staff to make up for it.”

Steve smiled. All right, maybe Steve didn’t have to stop by and give the elder Byers boy a piece of his mind.

He turned to Eddie. “Hey, you want to traverse the fields of commerce with me and Will to go get his staff?”

Eddie grinned. “Hell yeah! I didn’t get to go yesterday.”

Will grinned back. He turned to El and Mike. “You going to come with me. right?”

Mike shook his head. “El wanted to see the weavers this morning, but no one else wanted to go with her and with Steve’s dumb rule...”

“It’s not dumb,” Steve said. “Just because the Upside Down is gone, doesn’t mean there aren’t things that can hurt you.”

“We’re fifteen,” Mike protested. “I think that’s old enough to go by ourselves.”

Steve looked around at the other kids and they were all looking everywhere but at him. “May I remind you that we are literally standing on the ground where human monsters were trying to open a gate? Bad guys come in all shapes and sizes and even if you think you’re safe, is El? Or Will?”

The kids looked down at their feet and mumbled their apologies.

“I just want everyone safe and having a good time,” Steve finished. “You guys can do whatever you want, but do you know who your parents would blame if something happened to you?”

Dustin raised his head sharply. “But there are other adults here, why would they blame you?”

Steve barked out a bitter laugh. “Because I’m the fucking babysitter.” He walked off to get in line and everyone just followed behind quietly, suddenly somber.

Robin fell in step next to Steve and wrapped her arm around his shoulder. “Hey, dingus.”

Steve just ducked his head.

“It’s just a tricky age. You remember what it was like at their age,” she murmured.

“I was getting drunk every weekend, smoking, and having sex,” Steve grumbled. “I don’t want that for them.”

Robin kissed his cheek. “You’re sweet. But they’re going to have to figure it out on their own.”

Steve’s shoulders rounded. “I just want to them to have fun and we keep having knock out drag out fights before we go in and I–” he left out a deep sigh.

“You can’t be held responsible for what they do,” she said.

He snorted. “Tell that to Joyce or Claudia. Just because I’m the oldest.”

She hugged him tightly. “You’re not anymore and you know Eddie would do anything for those kids, too. Plus, this is exactly why you told them to find any adult. Let all of us help shoulder the load, too.”

Steve let out a low shuddering breath. “I’ll try. I just keep butting heads with Mike. Always Mike. And I don’t know what to do, he’s just so prickly and even outright hostile.”

“So don’t do anything,” Robin suggested.

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Let Eddie handle it,” she said. “He did a fine job yesterday. So let him do it again.”

Steve pressed his lips together and then nodded. “Okay.”

She kissed his cheek again and went back to talk to Eddie. Steve paid again for the tickets. Well, not all of them. Thankfully Eddie and his friends were paying their own way.

He turned to Will. “You ready to go get your staff?” He smiled broadly to hide the hurt of Mike’s rebellion.

Will smiled back. “Hell yeah!”

Eddie came bounding up to them. “I’ll meet you at the shop, there’s something I need to do really quick about tomorrow. They’ve messed up the schedule and me and Jeff have to go see someone about it.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, just ask Jeff where the shop is, he should remember which one.”

Eddie smiled again. “You betcha, big boy.” He flounced back to Jeff and Steve watched him walk away.

When he turned back to Will, the young man was looking at him with curiosity.

“What’s up?”

Will furrowed his brows. “I’m trying to decide if you know about...” he pursed his lips trying to find a way to say what he meant without outing Steve in public. “What you feel about a certain someone?”

Steve looked back at where Eddie had melted into the crowd and then back at this all too perceptive boy. He put his arm around Will and started them walking toward the shop.

“If you’re asking what I think you’re asking,” Steve started slowly, “I’ve known I like both for awhile now. It was just easier to focus on the one. The one that was socially acceptable, you know?”

Will nodded. “I can see that. And then he came barreling into our lives and a good kind of upside down happened?”

Steve smiled fondly. “Yeah. He is so sweet. He’s everything I thought I wanted in Nancy.”

Will grinned. “You do have a type.”

He scuffed Will’s hair a bit. “Yeah, yeah.”

They walked in silence for awhile before Steve spoke up again.

“I feel I should give you a heads up before we get to the shop,” he said with a wince.

Will looked over at him in confusion.

“I may have talked the merchant in to holding it for you by giving them a ten dollar deposit to hold it.”

Will’s jaw dropped. “You can do that?”

Steve laughed. “No, not really. By I can be persuasive and he was willing to do me the favor.”

“Thanks, Steve,” Will murmured. “You’ve done so much for us, I think we take you for granted sometimes.”

Steve half shrugged. “My parents suck and while some of you have actually decent parents and older siblings, I don’t mind being the babysitter the one you guys look up to and come to for advice.”

Will smiled. “Any tips on how to tell your best friend you have a crush on them?”

Steve threw back his head and laughed. “Look, the one time I did that I was drugged up on truth serum and literally couldn’t lie. I don’t think that’s going to help you.”

“Too bad Robin bats for the other team,” he said with a smile.

Steve smiled back. “Nah, I think her telling me that is what made it easier for me to realize that having those feelings can’t make you a bad person. Not when she was so amazing.”

Will cocked his head to the side. “That’s fair.”

“Come on you,” Steve said, “let’s go get you this wizard staff.”

Will stopped in his tracks. “You said it right. You never say the DnD terms right.”

Steve raised a finger up to his lips and winked. “I do it because it drives Dustin up the wall and Eddie just loves explaining it to me, so I kill two birds with one stone.”

Will laughed. “Yeah, okay.”

As they wove their way through the crowd, Will smiled to himself. Steve and Eddie both liked boys, knew they liked boys, and were still unapologetically themselves. And maybe he could be too.

But first, he was going to get that wicked staff he saw yesterday because he had two brothers looking out for him. His biological one and Steve. Someone who cared so deeply that even when he should have walked away, he stayed.

And Will always could use more people that just...stayed.

****

Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

For those that don't know "The Witcher" was an original short story in a Polish sci-fi/magazine in 1985. I couldn't figure out if Jeskier was in the original tale, so shush if he isn't.

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666 @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @thespaceantwhowrites @paintgonewrong @mogami13 @beelze-the-bubkiss @croatoan-like-its-hot @retro-vagabond @sani-86 @pansexuality-activated @y4r3luv @dauntlessdiva @vampire-eddie-brain-rot

[flowersandbigteeth]

Meeting your wind god mate

Wind God (Torin) x Female Reader

Summary: After your ex sold you to werewolves you meet someone new

Word Count: 2K

W: Violence, injuries, broken bones, etc. Death, injured reader

This is considerably darker than other stuff I've written...so be warned...

You were ready to die. Some part of you had really thought you could fight, when the wolves came for you. You’d used all your strength scratching with your nails and biting with your teeth, but it was no use, they were stronger than you and in greater number. While you were staring at the stars pass above you from your back, you couldn’t process what your fiance had done. As you breathed, what you assumed were your last breaths, you imagined his cool, calculating face as he’d haggled with them. He’d traded you for all of 5 soviergn, not to be worked to death as a slave or even a whore, but to be torn to pieces like a chew toy by a bunch of wolf shifters. Hot, acid tears stung your face, washing away streaks of cold mud. You felt the icy earth scrape beneath your back as they dragged you through the forest by your ankle, finally through beating you. You were numb by then and barely conscious, only able to process fleeting visions of memories. 

How could you not have seen Brian’s deceptive soul? You’d bought his lies hook, line, and sinker. Of course it had been too good to be true, what would an imp want with a human like you? You were the bottom of the barrel in this world. Your kind were slaves at best and food most often. The idea that he would bed you was preposterous, yet you’d given into the fantasy, following him like a little lamb to slaughter…and the slaughter had come. There was no safe place in Fairy for humans and you would die like most did a horrible, screaming death. 

The werewolves chattered with each other as if they were heading to a family barbecue, commenting on which pieces of you would be the tastiest. Every few feet an argument broke out over who would get what and they would have to stop so the feral beasts could battle it out with tooth and claw. Your head lolled to the side, the taste of blood coating your tongue. It would be a blessing if you lost consciousness, but it seemed your body was just strong enough to keep you halfway alert through the terrifying ordeal despite your broken bones. You could see their clawed feet digging into the dirt as they dragged you closer and closer to your death. They were already half shifted, their mouths muzzles filled with sharp fangs. 

Where were they going, exactly? Why not just murder yourhere and be done with it?

Your body was unceremoniously dumped on a stone altar and your eyes rolled around. There were seats in this clearing in the woods. Seats holding twenty or so fairyfolk leering at you with hungry eyes. So it’s to be a show, you realized, darkly as the wolves went around collecting tips from onlookers. It was to be expected, you were a human, after all. Your value was lower than even a chicken. Chickens could be adored pets, humans were only ever resented as pests. Leftovers from when the human realm and Fairy were still connected and one could pass through. Now all the portals were sealed and the last remaining humans in Fairy had been hunted to almost extinction. Only a few were allowed to live if they could be broken and used for their labor. 

You would be brutally disembowelled for the passing amusement of whoever happened to be nearby and had a few coins to spare.  The wolves would even make back the money they spent on buying you. 

You heard tearing and felt the sting of claws against your shivering body and realized they had removed your clothes. You lay bare and broken on the stone slab for all to see. You felt the heat of the wolves' breaths as they approached you, making hot gray steam in the cool air. Their fangs flared in the light of a few torches arranged around the clearing. You saw their fur, shuddering under their heavy breaths, in crystal clarity, each hair sharp and quivering. 

It’s time to die. 

“Take its head first!” someone shouted. 

“Eat its limbs, we want to hear it scream!” someone else supplied. 

You heard yourself screaming, though you couldn’t feel your throat. Pressure sliced down your leg as claws dug in, slowly, drawing out your pain. Then you suddenly felt colder than you had ever felt before. Colder than any snowy day, it was like your heart itself had stopped producing the nourishing heat that kept you alive. 

“I’m dead,” you heard a rusty voice moan, that you knew was your own. 

You waited for more pain, more shouting, more anything…but it was as if everything had frozen. You could no longer see the wolves as they moved into the darkness. And it was dark. The torches had gone out at some point, bathing them all in an eerie blackness. Even the stars, which had been out earlier, couldn’t penetrate the ink that clouded around them. It took you a moment to even understand that your eyes were open. 

Then there were screams. All around you the wind whipped up, icy cold and bitter, carrying on it howling cries of terror. You knew yours was blending with all of the others. 

What was this? Part of the show? You couldn’t see the wolves anymore or the leering fairyfolk. You blinked as the torches sprang back to life, bathing the clearing in dancing shadows. As the wind died, you realized it was raining, but this rain was thick…it smelled coppery. You tasted fresh blood on your tongue. 

You tried to move but your body was beyond your control, too broken to be useful. Your breaths came out ragged and uneven. A shadow filled yourvision, blocking out the trees above you. 

“My poor pet, what have they done to you?”

The voice that rolled over you was dark and cold. It almost stung with its chilliness, like a brisk wind. Your eyes focused on a pale face with cool gray eyes set into its chiseled countenance. The fae looking down at you was dangerously beautiful, like a lovely snake that you can tell by looking at it is venomous. His cheekbones were drawn and his full lips pressed into a thin line. You winced as an ivory hand brushed your cheek. When he pulled it away, you could see it was smudged with vivid, red blood. Death had come to collect you. 

“I’m ready Death,” you whimpered, “take me home.” 

The fae gave you a bitter smile. 

“You’ll not die tonight, pet, but we will go home.” 

He gathered you up in his arms and your skin prickled at his warmth. Home? You had no home. You were less than a rat, scurrying around looking for scraps. Rats were better tolerated.  Again, darkness and wind surrounded you, shutting out your vision and dousing you in blackness. You could only feel the fae’s torrid body against you and hear the wind assaulting your ears. 

When the darkness cleared again the sky was a deep purple, prickled with twinkling stars. Pressed against your warm captor, your body was beginning to thaw and pain invaded your consciousness.  You groaned and coughed, something hot and coppery sliding over your tongue. 

“Just a little longer,” the fae murmured. The world became a blurry mass as you moved from somewhere cold to somewhere warm. You were wrapped in something soft and tucked into the corner of a couch. 

“Drink this my sweet,” you heard and then tasted a fruity flavor on your tongue.

“Drink it all.” 

A warm finger swept up a bubble of fluid that slid down your chin and deposited it on your lips. Your dry tongue darted out to capture the liquid. Then the cloth was peeled away and again you were bare before him. His large hands slid over your body, leaving tingling warmth in their wake. You shuddered at the contrast of receding pain and blissful relief. He touched you everywhere, from your toes until finally he was just running his hands through your (Y/C) hair. You couldn’t hold back your tears and curled your now functioning limbs into a ball, whimpering. 

“Shhh, all is well. You’re safe now.” 

You blinked up at him. That was not possible, a human in Fairy was never safe. You’d escaped one death only to be captured by some other horrible fate. 

“What manner of fae are you?” you sniffled. You wanted to know how you would die. Would you be ripped apart by a beast or perhaps you’d be blessed with a quick death by a more cultured tormentor? He smiled down at you, his gray eyes seeming to get whiter, like a winter storm. 

“I am no fae, my pet,” he said, “you now belong to the north wind.” 

You gasped. The north wind? A god? He must be lying to you. You had never met a god, though you’d been told they walked Fairy in their corporeal forms. Whatever he was, you had no hope of fighting him, humans were helpless to all the species of Fairy, so it was best to entertain his delusions and not make him mad. He had healed you after all, so he must be some form of powerful fae. 

He frowned at you. 

“You do not believe me,” he grumbled. You were silent, terrified to be honest, but scared to lie if he could tell anyway. To your relief, he shook the matter away, instead looking you over. He flicked a finger at you and your nakedness was covered with a soft sweater and some black stretchy pants. Fluffy wool socks appeared, snug and warm on your feet. 

“No matter, you belong to me nonetheless,” he insisted. 

You nodded numbly. He would eat you, then. It did not matter what you thought because you would not live long enough for it to make a difference. He looked you over and moved to the far side of the room, returning with a glass filled with an amber liquid. 

He held the cool crystal up to your lips, his firm hand tipping your head back, forcing you to take it. You obediently sipped the beverage and gagged. Your cheeks flushed as the alcohol burned your throat. You quickly shoved the glass back at him and shook your head. You did not want any more. You wanted your mind to be clear, in case there was a chance for escape. You couldn’t hope to overpower or outrun a fae, but everyone makes mistakes. You might get lucky and it was best to be prepared. 

“Your color has returned,” he said solemnly, setting the glass down. 

He looked at you thoughtfully for a moment and you drew your knees to your chin, huddling deeper into the couch. 

“What’s your name, pet?” he asked. 

You looked at him suspiciously. If he was going to kill you anyway you didn’t want to share details about herself with him. You shook your head and he gave you a grimace.

“You needn’t be scared, I don’t plan on devouring you,” he said, his eyes glinting. 

You didn’t dare be hopeful. Brian had told you placating lies, as well, but you didn’t want to anger him and end your own life prematurely. 

“(Y/N),” you whispered. 

“A pretty name for my aura,” he said, smiling a little. 

You had never heard that word before. 

“Your what?” you asked. He ignored you and instead leaned in, pressing his lips against yours. Time and space warped a little as his mouth pressed against yours. You felt heat, peace, and safety all in one overwhelming gesture. Something else passed through you, something that drew the wind from your lungs. Your eyelashes fluttered as your life force was stolen from you, dragged into him in a blissful wave. It was like nothing you’d ever felt before, cool, brisk pleasure like spicy mint. He lied. He is devouring me. Just as you thought it, the energy was forced back into you, this time twining with something else. A chilly, cold thread wrapped around your spirit. As it entered you, you felt it wind through your veins, searching for every corner to occupy. You shuddered and a puff of icy air expelled from your lungs. Something was very different about you. Something else was inside of you.

“My aura,” he said quietly, “my mate.” 

Your eyebrows drew together. Not again. No more fae lies. 

“No,” you hissed, sliding across the couch, away from him. You buried your face in your knees, hardly able to contain the tears that were threatening to erupt from your eyes. Brian had spoken those words, as well. His mate, he’d said. He’d told you it was destiny. That was the only way an imp and a human could be meant for one another. They were false, fake words of devotion meant to confuse you. You wouldn’t entertain them again. You looked at him. 

“If you want to kill me, just do it. I’ll scream for you if you wish, but do not play games with my mind, fae,” you pleaded. 

He laughed at you. 

“I’ve just bound myself to you so you’ll share my lifespan, why would I kill you?” he asked, “and as I said, I am not a fae. I am the north wind. You can call me Torin.”

[usafphantom2]

Good night and have a wonderful weekend 🌖 SPEED CHECK

I could already see the coast of California from the Arizona border. I was, finally, after many humbling months of simulators and study, ahead of the jet. I was beginning to feel a bit sorry for Walter in the back seat. There he was, with no really good view of the incredible sights before us, tasked with monitoring four different radios. This was good practice for him for when we began flying real missions, when a priority transmission from headquarters could be vital. It had been difficult, too, for me to relinquish control of the radios, as during my entire flying career I had controlled my own transmissions. I still insisted on talking on the radio while we were on the ground, however. Walt was so good at many things, but he couldn't match my expertise at sounding smooth on the radios, a skill that had been honed sharply with years in fighter squadrons where the slightest radio miscue was grounds for beheading. He understood that and allowed me that luxury.

Just to get a sense of what Walt had to contend with, I pulled the radio toggle switches and monitored the frequencies along with him. The predominant radio chatter was from Los Angeles Center, far below us, controlling daily traffic in their sector. While they had us on their scope (albeit briefly), We listened as the shaky voice of a lone Cessna pilot asked Center for a readout of his ground speed. Center replied:

"November Charlie 175, I'm showing you at ninety knots on the ground."

Just moments after the Cessna's inquiry, a Twin Beech piped up on frequency, in a rather superior tone, asking for his ground speed. "I have you at one hundred and twenty-five knots of ground speed."

And I thought to myself, is this a ripe situation, or what? As my hand instinctively reached for the mic button, I had to remind myself that Walt was in control of the radios. Still, I thought, it must be done - in mere seconds we'll be out of the sector and the opportunity will be lost. That Hornet must die, and die now. I thought about all of our Sim training and how important it was that we developed well as a crew and knew that to jump in on the radios now would destroy the integrity of all that we had worked toward becoming. I was torn.

Somewhere, 13 miles above Arizona, there was a pilot screaming inside his space helmet. Then, I heard it. The click of the mic button from the back seat. That was the very moment that I knew Walter and I had become a crew. Very professionally, and with no emotion, Walter spoke: "Los Angeles Center, Aspen 20, can you give us a ground speed check?" There was no hesitation, and the replay came as if was an everyday request. "Aspen 20, I show you at one thousand eight hundred and forty-two knots, across the ground."

I think it was the forty-two knots that I liked the best, so accurate and proud was Center to deliver that information without hesitation, and you just knew he was smiling. But the precise point at which I knew that Walt and I were going to be really good friends for a long time was when he keyed the mic once again to say, in his most fighter-pilot-like voice: "Ah, Center, much thanks, we're showing closer to nineteen hundred on the money."

For a moment Walter was a god. And we finally heard a little crack in the armor of the Houston Center voice, when L.A.came back with, "Roger that Aspen, Your equipment is probably more accurate than ours. You boys have a good one." It all had lasted for just moments, but in that short, memorable sprint across the southwest, the Navy had been flamed, all mortal airplanes on freq were forced to bow before the King of Speed, and more importantly, Walter and I had crossed the threshold of being a crew. A fine day's work. We never heard another transmission on that frequency all the way to the coast. For just one day, it truly was fun being the fastest guys out there. Written by Brian Shul.😁 Habubrat Linda Sheffield

@Habubrats71 via X

[valencebagelbandit]

every god needs an imp chap. 4: don't stop dancing

notes: tell me if you guys like the perspective switch also should I do homelanders pov?

summary: eccentrica tries her best not to start crying on stage

♥Eccentrica♥

The lights sting my eyes like nothing else. Maybe I could blame it on the fact that I barely go outside but looking into the sun was still better than the stage lights they put me under every night. The audience always thinks that when glittery tears fall at the end of the show it's because I'm just so happy that they were clapping for me, their own personal court jester! Whatever gets their dumbasses happy, I can't even see their faces past the glare of the heat lamps that have framed every part of my life I’ve spent on stage, which I came to realize was most of it. Twenty-nine years spent alone on a stage faking a life to an audience I can't even see. 

Homelander was a prick, I always thought so and I was right as I usually am I knew that if A-train was in the seven the rest of them must have been astronomically mind fucked even for supe standards. But homelander, god he was even worse than I imagined. After the whole lasering a guy in public thing happened it clicked, at first I thought “Oh if some guy threw a bottle at my kid I would teleport them into space” but his replies after weren’t scripted, they sounded real, and if Vought isn’t telling him what to say that means no one is stopping him from doing other things. Just how bad was he?

“Eccentrica?” I snap back to reality, yes flicking from the slowly filling theater where I hadn’t realized I had been staring at some old fart in a Hawaiian shirt to the stagehand, Max. 

“What?” I pinch my nose bridge and close my eyes as I wait for a response.

“Your suits unzipped.” Max tripped over his words as perusal. 

“Thank you, Max.” sighing heavily I reached behind myself far too aggressively pulling up the zipper that held my mic in place. “I swear to god the entire point of this armor was so I could just teleport into it!” Max backed up hearing how pissy I was getting, it's not my fault that I can't teleport zippers closed! “Twenty-five fucking years of mastering the art of teleportation and I'm stuck as a fucking magician.” my jaw clenched I look up at the lights before back at Max. I can hear his heart beating, trying to beat fast clogged by years of mountain dew and hot pockets. “That's like being an olympian, winning silver then getting stuck as a tv host. No one! No one with teleportation abilities can do what I do max I was a prodigy. Kick one vought shareholder in the nuts and suddenly in the fucking James Corden of the supe world.” I shake my head, max nods greasy black hair sticking to his sweaty face. 

“Speaking of hosting. It's seven.” I run a hand through my hair and plaster on a smile as Max scurries off stage the lights dimming giving temporary refuge from the endless ache in my skull of every little sound and movement in the theater. Stepping forward onto the outcrop of the stage smiling and waving as I catch sight of that fucking bleach blonde hair for once not wearing an American flag as a cape but instead on a shirt his hand on the shoulder of a very stressed-looking thirteen-year-old.

“Hello there folks! Welcome to the show, I'm eccentrica Magica your host and entertainment for the evening!” I smile and teleport a wand into my hand as the audience claps. “Let's get right into the show, could… could I volunteer from the audience?” no no no, shit I was already stumbling. The lights are too bright some kid keeps screaming, why are my boots so tight, wait why was there no entrance music dammit why won't that kid shut up!

“How about the handsome little man in the middle row?” keep smiling, hopefully, homelanders kid is more well socialized than his father. I point at him, my hand shaking as I watch Brian- wait no it was something with a T, or maybe it was Ian? Whatever he’s coming onto stage good.

“Say what's your name, Sonny?” I bend forward to get face to face with him, he looks scared of all the eyes on him. For his sake, I hope he never has to get used to it.

“Ryan,” he replies quietly but that's fine, I clap a hand on his shoulder and stand up fully.

“Well, it's wonderful to have you here Ryan! Tell me Ryan do you like bunnies?” pacing backward I look up trying to focus, did the stage lights get brighter? Okay okay, hat rabbit right classic trick. I twirl the wand and teleport the hat onto my hand, tap the hat then tap it with the wand, rabbit in hat okay. I accidentally teleport the wand away as I reach into the hat and pull out a rabbit holding it out for the kid to pet. The audience cheers. Finally, I pat the bunny on the head and wave my arm in front of it so when I replace the bunny with a little fake one it looks cool. Of course, Ryan sees but he's happy with the little stuffed bunny. 

“How about that!” I call to the audience who claps again. Okay, maybe I can focus on my act. Teleporting a deck of cards into my hand I continued with a few tricks making them flashy before finishing the part where I needed a guest. Ryan was a good guest just a bit quiet. I walked Ryan to the stairs, he nearly tripped I remember catching him and seeing how scared he got as he looked between the floor and his father. I remember the texture of his shirt before he stumbled back forward. 

usually when I accidentally teleport something it's cards because it's the last thing I touch before I have to do the water tank trick the textures are easy to remember and the water’s cold and distracting. But unlucky for Ryan as I did the whole hyping the audience up speech as I got handcuffed and dropped into the tank it wasn't cards or the key I was supposed to teleport that appeared next to me in the now locked tank. it was his shirt… with him attached 

thanks for reading <3

[theatrepup]

Mick Fleetwood talks about touring with the Stones and meeting Brian in 1964:

"The Cheynes recorded a few singles, gained momentum around London, and in 1964 did a tour with the Rolling Stones just as their star began to rise....That tour was magical to me. The Stones really took care of us, looking after us like little brothers, and that is when and how I got to know Brian Jones quite well. I feel lucky about it because Brian was a special soul, in many ways far too sensitive and perceptive for this world. A brilliant, fluent multi-instrumentalist, he was the one who founded the Rolling Stones and he had the creative vision that helped them to evolve organically from a mop-top blues-pop group into the mystical rock gods they became--something that many people today might not realise.

Brian had a huge heart and we became friends very quickly. We'd sit and talk about the Blues for hours, trading stories we'd heard about the recording of the songs we both loved. Later, Brian and I became even better friends when I was dating the young beauty who became my first wife, Jenny Boyd. Our social circles became intertwined and we saw each other all the time. Jenny and I used to go around to Brian's flat to hang out and even to participate in the seances he'd hold at his new cottage in Fulham. At the time Brian had a girlfriend called ZuZu [Zou Zou] and the two of them would pull out the Ouija board and we'd attempt to communicate with the dead. Peter Bardens' father had written a book about ghosts [Ghosts and Hauntings by Dennis Bardens] that we had all read, so we were scared and fascinated at the same time.

I'm far from the first to have said so, but I'd like to confirm that Brian Jones was, without question, one of the sweetest human beings and the most visionary musician I've ever met. He's yet another who died too young, at twenty-seven, the same age as far too many of his peers--Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix and Jim Morrison, as well as Kurt Cobain and Amy Winehouse in the years to come."

--Play On: Now, Then & Fleetwood Mac, The Autobiography by Mick Fleetwood and Anthony Bozza

Mick Fleetwood's photo: https://youtu.be/NMHT_tFZHoA?si=cLA4V8EZxLaIw6lZ

[grimglitch]

Daniel

- Doesn’t like the fact that he has to drink blood

- But will start showing signs of aggression if he doesn’t have it, and he’s afraid of hurting the lads

- The lads may or may have not given their blood to him in emergency situations 

- He is the oldest of them all, having lived at least two centuries, but he doesn’t remember specifically how old he is

- Every so often he gets reminded of how mortal his friends are, and will go into a panicked state of trying to make sure that nothing happens to any of them, even down to ignoring his needs for they’re wants

- They didn’t realize this until it was almost too late

- He got turned (approximately) in his mid twenties, but he can’t remember exactly when

- He still struggles with breathing problems while running, but it is better when he is a bat

- Both he and Sean don’t remember what it is like to be human, and either severely overestimate or underestimate how much the human body can take 

- “Kevin! Oh my god that must be so heavy I’m so sorry let me help you” “umm, it’s just a stack of books Dan “

- He’s turned into the mom friend of the group, followed by Daithi and Brian 

- They just try to make sure that Kevin and Sean don’t do anything stupid 

[thissugarcane]

at--at least this is CLOSE to what I'm supposed to be writing. the fundraiser for Concerned Citizens of the Truth is a. justin's birthday and b. the day Brian tells justin what the doctor told him. I think. if I got the* timeline right. (god only knows about THAT tho.)

* the timeline i've been attempting to work out for like two years, aka my vague timeline of s4/5, not actually the show timeline because [insert shrug emoji here]

~

"Half of gay Pittsburgh can sleep soundly in their own beds tonight," Brian replied, and Justin felt his cheeks hurt, he instantly smiled widely enough. Brian had accepted the money -- sure, from Lindsay and Michael, but he'd looked at Justin when he said it, he'd known it was Justin, all Justin, and he'd taken the money.

Enough money to keep himself afloat, expenses wise, for a few months at least. No mortgage on the loft, it was only the credit card bills, and then--

Just heard the little tremor in Brian's voice, as he added, "Thank you, Sunshine."

It was more than he'd ever expected, in truth, but still bittersweet. "You're welcome," Justin said, squeezing Brian tight. He got the same in return.

They walked back to the loft in silence, Justin soaking up the unspoken affection in Brian's touch and Brian -- hopefully -- doing the same. They listened to the night sounds of Liberty avenue, and Justin was just thinking to himself how being twenty, so far, hadn't been too bad, when he heard Brian sniff, and pretended he hadn't. Brian said, "Fuck, the insurance then, and now -- after all of that, you did this too. Shit."

Should he respond? Justin chanced it. "It's nothing, Brian, don't worry--"

"It's not nothing Sunshine." Brian opened the door to the loft's building, held it open for Justin, and they got into the elevator. Brian stared at the elevator grate, eyes daring to the floor, then back to the rickety wood. He said, "It's a fuck of a lot."

Justin nodded slowly. Brian got out of the elevator before he could respond, letting them both into the loft, and then Brian said, "So your birthday present's inside. It won't... it doesn't make up for this. But. Fuck. Whatever."

~

[vanosslirious]

BBS Dialogue Prompts: #311

Vanoss Crew IRL Names & Alias' Prompts: [ 7 ]

SMII7Y

Let's get 'em, Fl0m.

I'm coming, Fl0m!

Bye, Fl0m you stupid bitch.

Fl0m, you have the ammo now.

This is why I said you're a terrible teammate, Tucker, right here.

Tucker flipped, Tucker flipped.

Fl0m, you want to race, me and you?

Pezzy, I'm gonna absolve you of your sins.

Play the zero, Nogla.

Pezzy, just drop it.

VANOSSGAMING

Hey, Brock's away for a couple of weeks, so we gotta let it out.

Hey, Marcel, speaking of elevators, did you know that one ding means up, and two dings means down, in an elevator? Well, now you know, bitch, tell people I told you.

I want that fact to be attached to my name. I want to release a book, Vanoss Elevator facts, one page long.

Brian, do you have any TNT?

What does that mean, Delirious, we vote for you?

I guess I'll vote for Delirious.

I voted for you, Nogla.

Nogla, just text me what happened.

Nogla tried to kill you?

Sit your ass down, Lanai.

TERRORISER

No, that's Brock's that's gonna get it.

Brock, down, this could be my moment.

Oh my God, if Brock wins this…

Teleport there, Vanoss, teleport.

Welcome home, Delirious.

Oh, Brock's going to be so happy seeing you running around his area.

Vanoss, run!

Marcel, can you see me?

No, it wasn't Delirious!

Brock, you coming?

NOGLA

With Brock gone, we can finally have fun.

Cause Marcel never tips.

He's going for Brian.

Oh, Marcel, you're right here.

Yeah, Brian, it's not like I said it ten fucking times.

Evan, come here, you gotta stick with me.

Brian, we're just trying to help you, man.

Evan, what's your role?

Well, it's not me, Scotty or Wildcat.

You know what to do, Evan, just listen to your heart.

BIGPUFFER

Matt, be careful, it's a trap.

Grizzy, we're out front...Grizzy, where are you?

Grizzy found one too.

No, SMii7y's alive, SMii7y you have twenty seconds.

SMii7y, get him.

Matt, be a crab with me.

Grizzy, how about you fucking shoot someone…

Grizzy's AFK.

Fuck you, Nogla!

Fucking shoot this guy, SMii7y.

H2ODELIRIOUS

Terroriser, Nogla blew up your area.

I'm voting Vanoss.

Vanoss, you're bitch, you're a bitch, Vanoss!

You weren't supposed to vote him, Vanoss.

Bryce, you have made it.

We gotta figure out what happened here, Bryce.

Bryce, we just started the game and you already broke it!

Bryce, I'm dead.

Bryce, come here, look…look over there.

Hang on, Bryce.

BRYCEGAMES

This is my first day on the job, Delirious, can you take my picture?

One below you, Delirious, right below you.

Really, on Liz's birthday too?

Delirious is actually being very polite.

Liz, what'd you got?

What'd you got Ria?

Delirious, do you wanna see something work?

Delirious, would you like to take a dip with me?

Delirious, you left me alone again!

Delirious, I'm stuck.

[unclewaynemunson]

Christmas ‘11

The last of 4 drabbles that follow the fruity four over Christmases through the years | (can be read as stand-alones) | pt1 | pt2 | pt3 | ao3 link

She who never expected to have a loving father figure

'God, that was the worst trip ever. Seriously, we're getting too old for this, Nance.'

Nancy smiled while slightly shaking her head. 'We're not even fifty yet.'

'We passed forty! I'm going gray, Nance, and we both have wrinkles! I see my mom when I look in the mirror!'

Robin felt the soft touch of Nancy's hand slide down her back.

'Then you don't know very well what your mom looks like,' she replied to Robin in a quiet voice.

'Old or not, I can't wait to get home,' Robin said, decidedly.

Nancy chuckled. 'And within two months you'll be jumping at the chance to leave again.'

'Maybe. But I almost forgot how good the fresh Indiana air smells.'

'We're still in the airport.'

'And it's already better than Tokyo. Seriously, I think we lost five years of our lives there. Could've chain smoked all our lives and it'd still be healthier than that.'

Nancy merely rolled her eyes, but a fond smile was playing around her lips. Robin knew that look all too well; it meant that she thought Robin was being dramatic, but that she loved it when Robin did that.

It took over an hour until they finally collected their luggage and got outside, after a quick stop at the coffee shop where Nancy chugged an extra strong coffee in order to stay awake for the drive home. Robin let herself fall into the passenger seat, trying her very best to fight off the jetlag that was creeping up on her.

It was already getting dark outside and the city was covered in lights. She remembered Christmases of years ago, when those twinkling lights would make both Nancy and Steve on edge and tense. Now, with the Upside Down out of their lives for over twenty years, most of their physical and mental scars had healed. Robin knew that lights would probably never be part of their home decorations, but Nancy didn't flinch or wince when the city lights turned on and the look on her face was relaxed – or as relaxed as one can possibly be after a completely exhausting fourteen-hour flight right in front of a baby and two small children that wouldn't ever shut up.

Robin stretched out her hand to squeeze Nancy's leg.

'Thank you for driving,' she said. 'I can't wait to get home.'

“Home” was nothing but pure chaos – exactly as they were expecting.

'Brace yourself,' Nancy whispered in her ear before she opened the backdoor that led into Steve and Eddie's side of the house. Robin followed her into the big kitchen with the rainbow-colored table in the middle, around which Brian, Josie and Cara were loudly yelling at each other about the tabletop game they were playing. Steve was stood at the kitchen counter wearing a spectacularly stained apron over his ever-expanding belly and guiding Noah, who was head-to-toe covered in flour, through the process of making gingerbread cookies.

When Steve looked up and saw Nancy and Robin, the widest grin appeared on his face.

'Your aunts are here!' he shouted excitedly at the kids around him.

Robin and Nancy both let themselves be squashed into hugs obediently. Robin loved those children, even though she was glad to have none of her own, and she knew Nancy felt exactly the same way.

'Did you get us presents from Japan?!' Brian asked immediately.

Robin gasped dramatically and turned to Nancy.

'Nance! We forgot the presents!' she exclaimed dramatically.

Nancy giggled as she tucked a stray strand of hair behind Robin's ear.

'Don't be mean, Rob,' she said before turning back to Brian. 'Of course we didn't forget about you.'

'But you'll still have to wait for tomorrow before you get them,' Robin added. 'No Christmas presents today, alright?'

'Well look who's there!' a voice sounded from somewhere behind Robin. She wriggled herself free from Josie's embrace to turn around towards Eddie, who was standing in the doorway, buried in a huge coat and a scarf, holding shopping bags in his gloved hands, with Leah standing beside him in the exact same winter outfit and in the exact same pose. There were more gray streaks in his long curls than Robin remembered from before they left – which was only two months ago.

Nancy hasted herself over to Eddie to help him put the bags onto the already overloaded table while he greeted Steve with a kiss on his cheek and an affectionate rub over his belly.

'How's Wayne doing?' Robin asked him.

Eddie grinned broadly at her. 'Never better,' he said. 'Seriously, it wasn't good for him to be alone, I'm so happy he's here now.'

'It's not too busy, with the kids and all?' Nancy asked in a low voice, so that the kids who had continued their game couldn't overhear her worries.

'Definitely not, he loves it,' Eddie answered. 'He's always playing all kinds of games with them, spoiling them rotten, honestly.'

'Where is he?'

Eddie made a vague gesture towards the living room and Robin hasted herself in there before even taking her coat off.

He was sitting in front of the fireplace, in his favorite armchair, which he had apparently taken with him from Forest Hills.

Robin felt a rush of warmth flow through her when he looked up and his face broke into a fond smile upon seeing her.

Robin's own father had grown into an old-fashioned strict man, unbending and somewhat disillusioned with life. Wayne couldn't be more different from him: he had only gone softer over the years, filled with love for the people Eddie had brought into his home and his life, never bitter, even though he had plenty of reason to be. He had finally retired from his job at the plant a few months ago, his age catching up to him and making him too old for the long night shifts and the heavy work.

None of them had liked the idea of Wayne spending his days alone in that trailer in Hawkins. They knew he wasn't lonely, that he liked the quiet, but the trailer got cold in winter and especially Eddie worried about him a lot. He and Steve figured that with all the kids, they could easily take care of Wayne, too, and it hadn't even taken as much convincing as they had expected to persuade Wayne to move in with them a little over a month ago.

'Ah, she's back! I missed you, why don't you come sit with me?'

'Uncle Wayne!' Robin crouched down to greet Wayne properly with a big hug. 'I missed you too, you have no idea! God, I'm so happy that you're living here now, I'm never leaving again!'

Wayne snorted. 'You always say that. And you never keep your word. How was Japan?'

'It was the best,' Robin said, still unable to stop smiling. 'Seriously, two months was way too short!' She settled herself on the chair next to Wayne's and immediately launched into a whole monologue about their tour through the main Japanese island. Osaka had been her favorite city, but she figured Wayne would be more interested in the rural scenery they had seen between the big cities, so she skipped most of their city sightseeing and went on to an elaborate description of their drive from Osaka to Hiroshima.

As Wayne was happily nodding along to her stories, she was reminded of her own father again. Even before he had grown into a bitter old man, he had been so completely different from Wayne. He had always been distant, wanting her to fit in and be something she was not. He would always interrupt her when she started rambling about something she was excited about, telling her to give him some peace and quiet for once. Wayne, on the other hand, always encouraged her to talk as much as she wanted. And more than that; he always listened attentively to anything she had to say. He had opened his home to her as soon as he found out how lost she felt sometimes, more than thirty years ago. He had been the quiet balance to her ramblings for years now, always ready to give some good advice when she needed it, always there for her, no questions asked. It felt like a do-over, somehow, to have him added to their household, something to counter the memories of living under one roof with her father, which hadn't always been easy. She had never expected to have this father figure for whom it seemed easy and natural to love her unconditionally. And she couldn't be happier to have him there with her.

[galwednesday]

NEST

"Well." Leon stared at the nest of foil wrappers and bricks blocking the roof outflow vent. "It's not a falcon."

His walkie-talkie crackled with Manuel's doubtful hum. "Sounded too big to be a pigeon."

"It's a dragon. Small," he added, after the silence stretched. "But. That's a dragon."

"Can you... move it?" 

"Sure." He lifted his hand and the bedraggled dragonlet enthusiastically gnawing on his glove came with it, its saliva already eating through the leather. "Thing is, at some point, mama's going to come back."

There was a long pause.

"So evacuating the building--"

"I'll get right on that."

(100 word inktober drabbles; BOUQUET, TRIP, MATCH, and CRABBY below the cut)

BOUQUET

"So is the 'vampires have super smelling' thing a myth?" Brian's date said, after watching him nod helplessly along with the victorious sommelier.

"It's real, I just don't know shit about wines," Brian said. "My sister's a judge at the state fair, though. She sniffs out blue ribbon melons."

"Oh, yeah? Cool."

"A lot of my cousins keep score. You know, best to worst jobs? Worst is Aunt Patty. She does CSI stuff."

"That sounds bad-ass, actually."

"Cadaver sniffing," Brian clarified, and laughed nervously as his date blanched. He snapped the menu open "Anyway, I went into accounting. So! Breadsticks?"

TRIP

"Permission slips?"

"Right here."

"Sunscreen?"

"Kids are supposed to bring their own?" Shawna winced at the assistant principal's expression. "I'll raid the nurse's office."

Peterson, the fifth grade team lead, raised his hand warily. "Is this the fairground with the clowns, or the ghosts?"

The PTA volunteer coordinator consulted the briefing packet. "Ghosts, D class. "

"Buddy system for the kids, and make sure their pockets are salted. Anything else?"

Everyone shook their heads.

"Then I'll see you all on Tuesday," the assistant principal said, rising from her seat. "Happy field trip day, and may God have mercy on our souls."

MATCH

Jess was fine with being the sister who didn't inherit their mother's second sight, but it did make clairvoyant-friendly sports interminable, and unfortunately it was Maya's turn to pick their outing. 

White advanced the king's pawn to open and deadlocked the game. Jess counted twenty-three minutes with no movement on the board, just the players' hands twitching every few minutes, before Maya leaned forward intently. The crowd gasped a moment before the second player tipped over their king.

"Next week we're going to a basketball game," Jess whispered to Maya over the polite applause, "and don't tell me who wins."

CRABBY

"What was the comment?"

"He said I had PMS," Wyatt, office manager, said.

"I did not!" Jeremy, sales team, protested. "I'm not some sitcom dad."

"And what *did* you say?" asked Melody, HR, missing The Bachelor to take this emergency meeting.

Jeremy shifted uneasily. "'Looks like you have a case of the moon-days.'"

Wyatt growled loudly enough to make Jeremy blanch, but quietly enough that Melody could pretend not to hear it. 

"Do you understand why that was inappropriate?" Melody said.

"It's Tuesday?"

If she wrote up the termination paperwork fast enough, maybe she could still catch the rose ceremony.

[mlobsters]

supernatural s13e17 the thing (w. davy perez)

i'm just hoping for a middling episode at this point. if i had to point to one plot thing that opened the door to so much of the nonsense of later seasons, it's the whole men of letters concept. like a neverending excuse to make up new magic, monsters, good guys, bad guys. i like that it gave them a home, but i really don't enjoy that set. it's so sterile and meh. wish they had a crusty weird house packed with shit, like bobby's place. anyway. long held irritation over mol. and the british men of letters storyline is like all those things i hate x1000. i see how they're kind of working ketch like crowley, what side is he working for, loyal to himself in the end, etc. but i just can't give a flying fuck about ketch because of the infuriating b!mol arc. and mark sheppard had years to work into that role and for them to develop it. meh!

tentacle monster coming through the nexus with the beautiful young flapper lady is chained to the table...... ok....

also where did those randos get archangel grace in the 20s

dean, come collect your man, he's drooling on the books again.

by collect, i did not mean put "kick me" sticky notes on him -_-

well that little research montage sequence was cute. is the "jinkies" thing to tease sam about velma kissing him? or just general acknowledgement that the scooby episode did actually happen -_-

spn s13e17 key to chapterhouse / hannibal s3e6 reunited in the uffizi / the magicians s3e5 key to fillory clock door

so two things that jumped out at me about this scene. first, it just had a little more atmosphere and pretty for pretty's sake with the crumbled leaves falling through the shaft of light - which all kind of hit the magicians buttons for me. and secondly, the music... (this is a lennertz episode) it has brief shades of bloodfest (the music used in That Scene in hannibal s2e13 mizumono and kind of became will and hannibal's big emotion music) which automatically makes the spn music hit all sorts of emotional buttons that it didn't earn. now i think they've used that sound before, but combined with the scene and the atmosphere which is so often lacking in the later seasons, it really hit for me. (totally cried just getting that small clip from hannibal with the music, think bryan fuller said something about this piece of music resonates at the frequency of his tear ducts)

i have posted a lot about the musical score in hannibal - here's my masterpost :S ok one more thing about that piece, an essay by kate schau talking about brian reitzell's score in hannibal:

In a 2014 interview with Vulture, Reitzell describes it as “musically, probably the crown jewel of the whole season.” While most of Reitzell’s work for the score is predominantly sparse and percussive, “Bloodfest” adopts a more tonal, texturally dense approach. As a nod to The Silence of the Lambs’ association of Bach’s Goldberg Variations with Hannibal the Cannibal’s violent impulses, “Bloodfest” takes its well-known opening aria and slows it down by a factor of twenty; here it also undergoes pervasive electronic distortion. The resulting work is beautiful, haunting, and utterly essential to the atmosphere of the scene. The syrupy-slow melody of the aria gives it the trancelike quality of meditation, but none of the objectivity; like a premonition of heartbreak, it seems to operate in a temporally detached space of reminiscence where emotion is both immediate and far away.

i often bemoan the show that could have been with a different composer at the helm, but will add to the list if they could have kept the look and feel dark gritty messy aesthetics of the early seasons. so much of the later seasons is just too bright, too saturated, too sterile. sucks the vibes right out. it's sad.

um ok. asmodeus is juicin with archangel grace.

i mean just. we're really going with hentai tentacles

i don't care how many times they do it, i love it every time. never gets old

ok. tentacle monster is a god, sure

SAM Dean. OPHELIA If she fed on him, he would be here.

SAM So what, then? MARCO It’s like we said, if she’s not feeding, she’s breeding.

so ketch is gonna bring gabriel to the boys, how convenient

sigh ok. better than a woman in possibly-sexual-peril i guess

DEAN Oh my God. That's tragic. It's like a Hallmark movie. But with tentacles.

good one, dean-o

YOKOTH I like you, Dean. You’re strong. And I enjoy looking at your face.

it's a good face, can't argue with that

SAM So, that’s why we came. I mean we--we--we--need the Seal to get our family back. DEAN If it could take us somewhere other than, uh, tentacle porn land -- not that there’s anything wrong with that.

being that sam outed your "animated japanese erotica" hobby to jody in 12x06, we know, dean. we know

(this is my periodic attempt to remember where cas is and failing. why)

KETCH Was working for. But when he finds out that I stole his prize milk cow, well, I imagine he will hunt me to the ends of the earth. So...this is the only safe place I know. SAM What? Do you think you’re gonna just move in? KETCH Dibs on the top bunk? SAM No. DEAN (speaking at the same time as Sam) Deal. SAM What? DEAN I don’t know what the hell’s going on here. But if this helps us get Mom back, helps us get Jack back, then...sure. Whatever you want.

okie dokie. also convenient taking the moral quandary of extracting more of gabriel's grace for the spell, ketch just had it bottled up from asmodeus's stash

SAM Fine? So you want Ketch to go and not me? DEAN I don’t care if he dies. Hell, I’m kinda rooting for it. SAM Still, you can’t -- DEAN No, I have to. It takes something that’s been over there to open up the right door, so that’s either you or me. So I’m gonna go. And if something happens to me, if -- if-- if time runs out, then I need you to come and save me, and save Mom, and save whoever else, okay? SAM It’s safer if we go together. DEAN Oh, there’s no such thing as safer over there. You know that. I know you don’t like this, okay? I don’t expect you to. This is the way it’s gonna be.

sammy gettin a little jealous there. railroading sam on a decision like this feels like poking the bear. poking that giant little brother you don't get to make decisions for me bear. but i do at least appreciate that dean actually explains that a) he would worry about sam dying, unlike ketch and b) that sam can come save him if it goes sideways if they're not both there. script had dean saying please. guess they decided no please was necessary

sam looking sad/resigned, dean looking determined, gabriel suffering in the background

i asked for middling, i think that mostly qualified

[renee-writer]

What If It Were Brian Chapter Twenty -seven

AO3

“She is.” Jamie studies his oldest son. His eyes are lit up, his feet nor hands are still, he is moving around in his excitement.

 

A new family moved into Fraser’s Ridge. Fergus meet the daughter, Marsali. Now he comes to tell his Papa that this lass is the one made for him.

 

“We shall have to talk with her father.  Does the lass feel the same?”

 

His son flushes with pleasure. “She does.”

 

The McKimnie ‘s moved to the Ridge a mere month ago. He would say it was to soon for either of them to know if it weren’t for himself and Claire. He knew from the first. His son can take after him in that way.

 

He is full of pride at the man Fergus is.  He put as much sweat and toil into making the Ridge what it is as Jamie and Murtagh had.  Brian, ten now, is growing into a fine young man himself. With the example of Fergus to look up to, how can it be any different.

 

“I will go tell your mama where we are off to, and then we shall go speak to Mr. McKimnie.”

 

Olivia is at her mama’s side. They are grinding herbs.

 

“Daddy, look how well I got the garlic ground.”

 

He looks inside the pestle and smiles at his daughter. She is beautiful and smart, sweet and fierce. Olivia holds him fast just like her mama.

 

“Great job my heart.”

 

“Jamie, did Fergus find you?” Claire asks, “He was searching for you.”

 

“Aye. He wishes for Marsali McKimnie’s hand.”

 

She slowly places the mortar down. Olivia keeps up her work.

 

“They have only known each other for a month.”

 

“Aye, I knew immediately with you. It seems Fergus is the same.”

 

“But, he is still so young!”

 

“Actually, he is a year older then I was when we were married.”

 

“Bloody hell.”

 

“Mama, those are bad words.”

 

“I am sorry, my love. You’re right.” She reaches out and strokes her red curls. Ironically, Fergus is the child that looks most like her. “He just seems younger.”

 

Jamie nods. “I think it is always that way to parents. We are going to speak with Mr. McKimmie.”

 

She lets her breath out. “Right. Marsali is a wonderful girl. I like her.  She will make him a fine wife.”

 

“I agree.” He kisses her and his daughter’s cheek before turning to head out. Thinking of something, he turns back around, “I am going to take Brian with us. This is a lesson in manhood.”

 

“You want to marry her?” Brian questions his brother as they walk towards the McKimnie’s.

 

“Ouí, I do.”

 

“Why? Lasses are no fun. They can’t climb trees or swim in the lakes without clothes.” A few new boys had introduced him to skinny-dipping recently.

 

Both his big brother and his papa, laugh at that.

 

“Oh Brian, lasses provide a different type of fun then lads.” Fergus says.

 

His papa gives him a sharp look. “You haven’t been having such fun yet, with Marsali, have you?”

 

“No Papa, you raised me better then that.” 

 

“Oh, you mean kisses.” Brian says, “kisses are nasty. Who would want to kiss a lass?”

 

“My son, just you wait. You will soon want to be kissing lasses. “

 

He pulls a face as they approach the McKimnie’s door. Jamie knocks.

 

“Laird Fraser,” Mr. McKimnie greets them, “and sons. What do I owe the honor?”

 

“Mr. Kimmie, sir, may we come in?”

 

“Aye, of course.” He leads them in. His wife sits doing mending. Her youngest, Jane, by her side. Marsali reads opposite her. She looks up as they step in and a blush covers her face at seeing Fergus.

 

“Mrs. McKimmie, lasses.” Jamie bows to each of them.

 

“Laird Fraser,” she stands and her lasses do too., “Master Frasers.” She curtsies, her and her daughters.

 

“Have a seat,” they take seats around the fire, as befitting honored guests, “would you like a drink?”

 

“No, but thank you. Fergus has a question for you?”

 

“Mr. McKimnie,” He clears his throat, “I request the honor of Marsali’s hand in marriage. I promise to love her, protect her, honor her, as long as God gives me breath.”

 

There is a gasp from Mrs. McKimmie, a squeal from Marsali. The fireplace crackles. Fergus waits and Mr. McKimmie thinks.

 

“Marsali, would you accept his hand?” he says.

 

“Yes daddy. I love him.” She is blushing. Jane grins. It is all so romantic. Mrs. McKimmie keeps sewing. She will speak to her husband about her concerns later, never in front of company.

 

“It would be an honor to see her wed to your son, Laird Fraser. As the lass is but fifteen, I request the engagement be a year. Does that suit, Master Fraser?”

 

“Ouí, thank you Mr. McKimmie.” Inside, he is jubilant. Outside, he is the picture of calm. Jamie taught him well.

 

“Now we must lift a glass to Marsali and Fergus.”

 

Brian gets his first sip of whisky.

[sarahjanesdiary]

April 12th 2024

I have such a strange relationship with “work.” Not the physical demands or how complicated the job may be just.. work as a whole. I struggle to remember things like.. Friday my tire was flat before I left work to go home. That day I pumped it then went home and just forgot the event happened. I had 4 days off. This morning I started to leave and what do you know… my tire was flat again. I forgot to take care of the issue and now I have to go to work again. (Shame 1 - Sarah 0)

I call my sister because she lives close but she’s actually at our moms’ this morning, too far. My friend lives close by, I ask her to help me with my tire and I message my boss. Twenty minutes to type a text asking if I can come in an hour late. “Okay” (Shame 2 - Sarah 0)

I start down the road after my friend drives away. I make it 5 minutes down the road. The car starts overheating. 

I pull over. I turn on my blinkers. I close my eyes.

I can’t do this today.

I message my boss and apologize. I call off. (Shame 3 - Sarah 0)

I drop my things off in my living room. I sit down. I pick up Stardew Valley. 50 pounds in my shoes. 

So now what? Do I spend the rest of my day doing productive things to make myself feel better for calling off? Do I listen to self-help podcasts to try to fight this overwhelm that is coming up? Do I go to sleep, or take a nap? 

I feel like so easily these feelings can take me on this troubling emotional ride that leaves me feeling broken and panicked. 

Bad morning - Bad day - Bad life 

But that’s silly. That doesn’t make sense. How can I go from having a bad morning to “Where’s the closest bridge?” 

Why is it me against me?

I’m in the ring with a blob of a monster. They’re tall, frightening, casting shadows on me they’re so large. I’m so scared. I’m watching it come closer and I can feel my body trembling. My stomach is upset, my hands sweaty, crying/snotty. I’m petrified. Anyone would be if they saw this. If they were in the same ring with this monster every day. 

The monster isn’t a monster at all. The monster ends up being like one of those costumed characters from Scooby Doo. Take the mask off and there’s a real monster I think except… It’s me. Little me. Child me. 

I’m just a kid stuck in protective armor. Trying to seem big and scary to protect me. I guess us. 

Edit: I wrote this on a day when I felt fed up, tired, and all-around shitty. Unreliable. Chronically late. Subpar job. 

I did it again. catastrophizing.  

I spent some time in the little outdoor area. Read the names of the “in memory of” stones. (I work as a housekeeper at a hospice. I’m fun at parties.) Drank my Pepsi for lunch. Not ideal but I just wasn’t hungry. I don’t know why. 

I wrote on my phone about an interaction I had with my sister and a patient. I felt inspired by her I think. Both of them. 

I came home and spent such a good evening with Brian. God that man. He makes me feel safe. Being in his arms, I truly understand what it means to have your worries melt away. 

There have been times like over dad, where I cried for so long I didn’t know if it was gonna fuckin stop. But then there are times like today when I immediately fell into him. melted.