#gregs out of town

[madychi]

Okay I know i wasn’t gonna post any more SU au’s aside from my Time Heals…

But hear me out-

I have too much power

Full doodle sheet

[childoftheriver]

Another beautiful pic from Prog Magazine. I’ve gone through every episode of Hargreaves show I could find online but I can’t find this one! Caption by Regina.

[aquilacalvitium]

I think pokemon gets a pass because they seem to have an obligation to feature almost every biome known to man in just one region

Either the planet is tiny or their global warming is worse than ours

when a film or tv show takes place somewhere where you have been, it is your sacred duty as viewer to say “i’ve been there” every time you recognize a place

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Another

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by anonymous

Synopsis: You go with your brothers to a bar, but things turn sideways when a stranger won’t leave you alone.

Warnings: creepy guy, scared reader, protective Sam and Dean

Another hunt. Another town. Another bar.

After you guys had moved into the bunker, some stupid, stupid part of you thought that maybe some things would change. But some things would always be the same.

You didn’t mind the hunting, you really didn’t. You didn’t want to do it, and you wished your brothers had a safer life, but you understood at least. They helped people, and that was everything.

But you hated this; being in a town full of strangers in a bar full of people much older than you, huddling in a corner waiting for your big brothers. There was nothing like not belonging while being surrounded by drunk, adult strangers.

Usually, the adults would stare at you like you were an alien for a moment or two, then ignore you. Young teens weren’t common in bars, but it wasn’t interesting enough to keep them from their good times.

This time, something was different. A man near the bar had been staring at you ever since you walked in the door. You had even gone to the other side of the bar to avoid him, but he followed. He hadn’t approached you, but he wouldn’t stop staring. Since he’d yet to go near you, you didn’t see a reason to bother Sam and Dean about it.

But he was starting to freak you out, so you found yourself trying to locate Sam or Dean in the crowded bar.

“Hey.”

You were so distracted looking for your brothers that you hadn’t seen the man approaching.

“Name’s Greg,” he greeted.

“Hi,” you muttered, still glancing around for Sam and Dean.

“What’s a sweetheart like you doing here alone?” Greg asked in a sickeningly sweet voice.

“‘M not—“ You were squirming in your seat now, and Sam and Dean were nowhere to be seen. “—not alone.”

“Now don’t be nervous.” Greg took the seat next to you and scooted it closer so that his knee was touching yours. You tried to scoot back, but you chair was already against the wall. You couldn’t go back, and Greg was angled in such a way that if you got up, he was blocking any easy exit.

“I have to find my brothers,” you said, deciding to risk it and stand up, attempting to squirm past the man.

Your whole body stiffened as though someone had dropped an ice cube down your back. Greg, still sitting in his own chair, and grabbed your leg right above your knee when you stood. His fingers were curled, gripping you much too tightly.

“Hey now,” he said, trying to keep up the sweet tone but sounding annoyed. “No need to rush off.” His fingers slackened their grip, but once he let go he stood, towering over you much too closely. And then the hand that was on your knee was on your shoulder, his fingers digging into the sensitive skin near your neck.

“I-I have to—“ your voice caught in your throat when his grip tightened painfully.

“No you don’t,” he all but commanded. “Just stay right here with me, nobody’s gonna miss you.” He shifted forward until all you could see was him. Your back was up against the wall; you had nowhere to go.

“Please don’t—“

“Hey!”

As soon as Greg had appeared, he was gone, and in his place stood the men you’d been so desperate to find.

Dean was shoving Greg toward the exit, and Sam was right there with him until you called out for him.

Sam turned hesitantly, leaving Dean to deal with the creep as he rushed to you and began to examine you.

“Did he hurt you?” Sam demanded.

You shook your head even as you rubbed your sore shoulder. This didn’t go unnoticed by Sam, who pulled aside your sleeve just enough to see the bruises already forming near your neck. His jaw ticked, and he turned to go after Greg, but you grabbed onto his sleeve to keep him near you.

“Don’t go,” you pleaded, and he relented immediately. The moment his arms wrapped around your shoulders, you all but melted into him. The adrenaline that had been pumping through your veins since the moment the man laid his hands on you now felt like a foreign substance pulsing in you, clogging your lungs and burning your eyes and making your knees weak. Your big brother held your weight up effortlessly, rubbing your back and breathing with exaggerated slowness as an example for you to slow your own ragged, racing breaths.

“You’re ok, you’re ok,” he breathed over and over again. “You’re safe now, I’ve got you.”

“Hey.” Dean’s voice had you peaking out from the safety of Sam’s arms. He was standing next to you now, his knuckles suspiciously bruised and bloodied. “Hey, you ok sweetheart?”

You nodded weakly, still resting against Sam. Dean pulled his jacket off and draped it against your shaking shoulders, and the familiar weight and scent washed over you and seemed to abate the adrenaline in your system, at least a little. You took a slow, deep breath that matched Sam’s.

“Let’s get you to the Impala, ok?” Sam suggested gently. You nodded, and Sam kept his arm around your shoulder as the brothers ushered you out. There wasn’t a moment when you weren’t completely surrounded by their protective presence.

Sam guided you into the back of the Impala before joining Dean in the front seats.

Dean glanced back at you every few seconds in the rearview mirror.

“How’s it going back there?”

“‘M ok,” you mumbled, and Dean’s eyebrows curved downward as his mouth retreated into a thin line.

“Ok,” he sighed, and you knew he didn’t believe you.

It didn’t take long to reach the motel, and once the three of you were settled inside Sam spoke again.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head quickly, bringing your legs up to your chest and hugging your knees.

“I’m fine,” you said shakily. “He just—he got a little pushy…and grabby.”

“Grabby?” Dean gritted his teeth. “I knew I should’ve hit him harder.”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” you sighed.

“Ok, ok.” Dean rubbed his face. “I’m sorry.”

“This isn’t your fault,” you said quickly. “It’s not—it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Yes it is,” Dean insisted. “And it’s not going to happen again. Either me or Sam is gonna be with you next time, we’re not gonna leave you alone again, ok?”

You nodded. “Ok, that…that sounds good. In case there’s another time.”

“There’s not gonna be another time,” Sam said, pulling you into his arms. “We’re gonna be there. Always.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale

[austinsastrology8991]

> MC ASPECTS < How you renowned around town “You make your own reality. And once you’ve done it, apparently, everyone’s of the opinion it was all so fucking obvious.” - Logan - Fucking - ROy

!!parental advisory explicit!!

MC Aspecting Sun - “rome, I think you're a super talented superstar and I love you” - Shiv Roy : Its hard not to notice you, you got a poise of regality, and you work the public sphere with ease; you put yourself out there and you get a lot of attention from onlookers - and it makes you one of a kind. you are someone with dignity and maybe too much self respect for some, to give you the credit that you do deserve > because no one does it quite like you - high key a dominant force in any room you enter - wolf of wall street vibes and lets be honest you are not above having a party at the office... and paying hookers to make it more cool...... you do the most and its a vibe vibe MC Aspecting Moon - "They fuck you up, your mum and dad. They may not mean to, but they do. They fill you with the faults they had, and add some extra just for you" - Therapist in succession You know how to put people at ease, and your basically a professional therapist at this point. You can lighten up anyones mood or piss everyone off depending on how you feel. And this understanding of psychology really benefits you; because people want to treat you right, so you can give them some insight as to why they have a mental breakdown every 5 minutes (this generations daily cycle) your like a dog that lives in a hair-salon and everyone wanna get a cuddle from it/he/she/thing/you

MC Aspecting Mercury - “Information, Greg, it’s like a bottle of fine wine. You store it, you hoard it, you save it for a special occasion and then you smash someone’s face with it.” - Tom Wambsgams When you stfu people are wondering what your thinking. because somehow. someway. you've taken control of the conversation, and whatever you say is taken with heavier consideration then the average person. However that does not mean you get your way, it just means we listen to you the most - easily the most valuable insight comes from you guys, and your perceived as. a hustler. no wonder your careful with ur words because you dont really care about getting the right answer in the known, if that ultimately inteferes with your master plan you'll just stay quiet - because you know how to navigate the world with words, and your aware that ultimately the final word - the best word - is the deciding factor of what we do MC Aspecting Venus - "Here’s the thing about being rich, okay? It’s fucking great. It’s like being a superhero, only better. You get to do what you want — the authorities can’t really touch you. You get to wear a costume, but it’s designed by Armani and it doesn’t make you look like a prick." - Tom Wambsgams Beauty pageants. Everyone is interested in you, because your beautiful and your graceful, and you'd make a fine edition to the list of exes that everyone has. So besides the fact that your fuckable, you know how to charm people so easily and thats why you get so much attention, and its positive unless your insecure about how attractive you are.... which is a real thing... and id say just get that plastic surgery or stfu and find some real solutions. i mean has anyone ever tried to tell a beautiful person, that they beautiful.... its exhausting... and then they just look for someone else (more beautiful) to get that validation. its a death trap!!! dont fall for that bs... but damn yo fine ass better get used to being a fine ass or someone gonna commit a crime on yo ass MC Aspecting Mars - "I got a track record from founding one of the most exciting new media brands in the world. And what do you got? Track marks from shooting junk? Thanks for coming down. It was great to meet you." - Lawyrence Yee Unfuckwitable - you embody the underdog - and i mean an under dog thorugh and through; youll bark at anything that pisses yall offf, and thats why people watch they step around yall, no one wanna get bitten by da big dog with a small dog complex. but your fierce and people try their best to match your aggressive energy just to save face for themselves - meanwhile your just more pissed off that you always gotta show yo teeth to anyone you talk to lol. Your competitive and act like crackhead that knows karate. everyone is low key intimidated by ya, and you know it

MC Aspecting Jupiter - "Most things don't exist. the ford motor company hardly exists. It's just a time saving expression for a collection of financial interests." - Logan RoyEveryone likes you, and sometimes you don't even understand why, and thats just another reason to like you. You show a geniune uninterest in any boring mundane activities > and this lack of care for bullshit makes it so that when you do show an interest for something > you've somehow convinced everyone in the room that your enthusiasm defines whats enjoyable. and this discernment makes others believe that your the new budha for socio-economic observations . I respect it. and you did it without even realizing, like thats a feat initself, and you guys are 100 feet tall in everyone elses eyes because you got a name fo yo self MC aspecting Saturn - "the actual fact is we're persuading more and more shareholders everyday that we offer them just a slightly better chance for them to make a little bit more money on the dollar…and that's all that this is…." - Stewy Hosseini The boss is here and now everyone gotta actually do something productive. you guys have respect, and people know that if they don't come at you correctly, then you'll correct it for them, and no one wanna be daddied by the king kong daddy. Your life is defined by hardships and this is the most noticeable trait about yall, and it has molded you into a gus fring. A stone cold killer. You don't have to say much but the weight of your presence in itself, is so much pressure, that everyone wanna ask for more time, but no one wanna be scolded by yall so we just stfu and deal with it MC Aspecting Uranus - "Nothing is a line. Everything, everywhere is always moving. Forever. Get used to it." - Logan Roy Who is they? who are we? why can they get away with acting like a complete fucking retard? Well they don't 'get away with it' they just fucking do it. I mean the balls on ya'll is undeniable, but the audacity and the concept of why. well no one knows and I don't think you do either. But you literally change the game wherever you go, because you do ridiculous shit just to make fun of reality, and it really does expose how much of a cult we all live in; since we all about our own rituals of bullshit. I applaud the audacity but everyone gets nervous around your unpredictable nervous explosions - your like a charged creeper; youve been shocked by something and now you just have to explode and ruin everyones buildings

MC Aspecting Neptune - "Climate said I was going down. Climate said I should just step aside. I guess I'm a climate denier" - Logan Roy You're imagination personified. You somehow write your favourite stories into reality > and you do this so uncosnciosuly thst you've somehow convinced everyone its real. You don't care much for whats actually real, you'd rather manifest what you want to be real > no matter whats being thrown at you (and theres a lot) you have a uncanny ability to be a energy conduit > and transform that energy into what pleases you the most. And because of this you appear to be a mystic. and theres a tendency to be very calm, and if life throws too much shit at you > and you've ran outta favours, its adios to the world. and the long road of finding your purpose again awaits! MC Aspecting Pluto - "Would you like to hear my favourite passage from Shakespear? Take the fucking money." - Logan Roy You are daunting aren't you. people don't talk to you very much, at least not any normal self abiding citizen. you look like TMNT - you look neglected > look like you ate some radioactive poison > became this mutant thing > and was raised by a rat that could beat your ass... how'd that go? you look great! I would shake your hand but Im honestly afraid your gonna bite me. Look your life is intense and borderline traumatic, I get it. but this makes you so mesmerising > you can have the whole room in a trance with your dark aura, and people just hand you power like its nothing. You don't even care tho, and thats what makes you even more powerful lol > if anyone can handle the dark. its you > and a powerful 'rep' requires someone who doesn't fuck around. and you do not

highly highly recommend succession > all the quotes used are from dat show - and its a fkn masta piece

[dovesdreaming]

Double trouble

Summary: Rodrick Heffley finally meets his match when a new band member joins Löded Diper and they’re exactly like him.

Request

Masterlist

Warnings: none

-

Rodrick Heffley had always been the king of his own world, a world filled with the raucous sounds of heavy metal, the smell of worn leather, and the unbridled chaos that came with being the drummer of Löded Diper. So when his parents forced him to find a new guitarist for the band, he wasn’t exactly thrilled. But then you walked in. You were exactly what the band needed, a fierce guitarist with a sound that matched Rodrick's energy note for note. You showed up to the audition wearing a beat-up leather jacket and band tee, your hair perfectly messy, looking like you had just walked out of one of Rodrick’s favorite music videos. He wasn’t sure if he was looking in a mirror or at the person who might just change everything.

“Alright, show me what you got" Rodrick said, leaning back with an air of disinterest he’d perfected over years of being a self proclaimed rock god. You rolled your eyes, just like he would have, and adjusted the strap of your guitar. When your fingers hit the strings, the sound that came out was pure magic, a riff so heavy it made the basement walls vibrate. Rodrick’s usual smirk fell into something more serious as he nodded along. By the time you finished, the rest of the band was staring in awe, but Rodrick just crossed his arms and gave a curt nod.

“You're in” he said, trying to play it cool. But there was a glint in his eye that you caught, one that said, This might actually be fun. Practices were different after you joined the band. There was more energy, more intensity. Rodrick found himself playing harder, pushing himself to keep up with you, and he liked the challenge. “You know, you’re not half bad” he said one day after a particularly grueling practice, sweat dripping down his forehead. “Coming from you, that’s a compliment” you shot back, smirking. Rodrick chuckled, a rare sound from him, as he wiped his brow with the back of his hand. "Maybe we should do something together. Like, you know, write a song”. “Only if you promise not to mess it up” you teased. He rolled his eyes. "Please. You’re the one who better keep up with me”.

But it wasn’t just about music. As the weeks went on, Rodrick started noticing how similar the two of you really were. You shared the same taste in bands, down to the most obscure groups that no one else in town seemed to know. You had the same disdain for anything ‘mainstream’ and you both took pride in your rebellious style. One day, Rodrick came to practice wearing a shirt from a band’s farewell tour that he’d been sure no one else knew about. When you showed up wearing the exact same shirt, he almost dropped his drumsticks. “No way!" you both said in unison, then laughed. Rodrick grinned at you, feeling something warm in his chest. It wasn’t like him to care much about other people, but you well, you were different.

As time passed, you and Rodrick became the dynamic duo of Löded Diper. The band started to sound tighter, more professional, almost like you actually knew what you were doing. The guys even started to talk about getting gigs outside of Greg’s middle school parties, something Rodrick had only dreamed about before. One night after a particularly killer session, you both stayed behind, too hyped up to leave.

“You know, we might actually make something of this” Rodrick said, strumming his guitar absently as he sat next to you on the worn out basement couch. You leaned back, looking up at the ceiling. "Yeah, if we don’t kill each other first”. He chuckled, nudging you with his shoulder. "It’s not my fault you’re always trying to one up me”. “Please” you scoffed. "You’re the one who always has to have the last word”.

Rodrick smirked. "Yeah, well, someone’s gotta keep you in check”. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. It was weird, but despite all the back and forth, you knew you made a good team. More than that, you were starting to think maybe you’d found someone who really understood you, someone who saw the world the same way you did, even if they were a total pain sometimes. "Hey” Rodrick said suddenly, turning serious. "I’m glad you joined the band. It’s…cool having someone who gets it”. You looked at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. "Yeah” you said softly. "I’m glad too”. You could have sworn you saw his eyes flit down to your lips and lean in ever so slightly but as quick as you saw it he had turned away from you with an absent minded smile on his face.

You both sat there in comfortable silence, the sounds of the night filtering through the basement windows. It wasn’t something either of you would say out loud, at least not yet. But you knew, whatever came next, you were in it together. And with both of you in the band, Löded Diper was about to rock harder than ever before.

-

Thank you for reading!

[that-one-banger-of-a-rhcp-song]

A Rodrick x reader where they're friends with benefits and aren't aware of each others feelings towards the other util reader gets asked out by someone from their school :]

i started this one earlier and then the draft got deleted (this is why you dont take grilled cheese brakes kids) Thank you so much for the request, i have never written fwb before so i hope i meet your expectations :) (p.s. im a sucker for hand/knuckle kisses and it shows) lets just say greg and rowley weren't there for the party.

"Dammit Rodrick," you chuckled slightly, sitting on a desk.

"What?" The raven haired boy started, "Don't like doing this anymore?" His hot breath tickled against your neck.

"It's not that," you muttered, "I just, don't feel like making out in an empty classroom five minutes before lunch ends."

"Oh, 'cause you are so above that," he retorted, going back to his assault on your neck and jawline.

"I'm turning over a new leaf!" You leaned back slightly, humming.

"Proud of yourself?" his hand relocated to your waist, the other supporting his weight.

"I would say I'm more proud of you,"

"Oh?"

"You haven't gotten a detention in two days!" at that, the boy laughed, and removed his head from the crook of your neck.

'God I love you!' he wanted to say, but you seemed content with your current status, and he got to make out with you whenever he wanted... so he was fine! Totally.

"Has that Micha kid been bothering you?" The so called 'Micha kid' had been trying to hit on you for months, and you were to nice to tell him you secretly hated him, but you were working on it (thanks to Rodrick)

"Kind of? He tries to talk to me a lot, but he's less persistent."

"Good" he smiled, patting your waist before kissing you again.

You pulled away after a moment, "We should probably get our stuff," you commented, pulling him out of his blissful state.

"uh, yeah!" god he was so awkward sometimes. He held out his hand for you to take, (which you did) and you slid off the desk.

"You're such a gentleman!" you mocked in a brittish accent

"Oh, I know, love," he carried on.

-----------

'party at my house -rodrick' The text had been sent four minutes ago on the dot. Your parents were out of town, so you could go without being caught. So you fucking did. You put on a white button-down, black skinny jeans that were torn to shreds, and You put your earbuds in and started walking the block to the Heffley household. Your mind shifted to your previous interaction. How concerned Rodrick was being, he did care about you. and some times it felt like he loved you. you felt as if you could only dream.

---

You knocked on the door, the music was so loud already.

"Y/NNNN!" Rodrick dragged your name out, he took your hand and kissed your knuckles, "You do know this is casual, right?"

"Yes."

"Alright then. Get in here!" he pulled you in the house, there were lights, MCR's 'na na na" was blasting at full volume, and there were high-schoolers making out in random corners, someone had started a fistfight, and it seemed like it was more Rodrick's element than yours, but that was ok. And then you saw him.

Micha.

The boy who looked at you like a Piece of meat.

you grabbed Rodrick's sleeve, "Micha's here," You said desperately. He noted your concern, and looked around for the boy, "Hey," he said, grasping your arms, "It's gonna be fine! if he starts bothering you, just come find me and we can make out or some shit!" He looked you in the eyes and smiled, trying his hardest to reasure you.

"Thanks Rodrick," you said hugging him.

"Of course!"

-------

Rodrick had decided to be social, so you just wandered around the house, looking at the people you knew, and those you didn't. When you heard that terribly familiar voice.

"Hey y/n!"

Well fuck. you turned around, and sent a glare that could kill toward the boy.

"How's the party?" Micha said.

The sound of his voice made you want to yell. "Good." you said, not looking at him.

"I haven't talked to you in a while,"

"I know." you kept your answers short and half assed. Hoping he would get the memo.

He didn't.

Lucky for you, Rodrick had pardoned himself from his buddies chit chat, to make sure you were alright.

An arm looped around your shoulders, "Hi," the boy said "Uh, Micheal, was it?"

"Micha."

"Oh, sorry meesha,"

"That isn't even close to my name."

"Cool" you were never really religious, but you took the time to thank god for Rodrick. "Now, Mickey, can you not tell that you're making y/n uncomfortable?"

"I figured they would tell me if-"

"Micha, I don't like you." you said, voice laced with anger, "I never fucking have."

The boy just looked at you sadly and nodded before walking away.

"Rodrick, thank-" you were cut off by a rather agressive and passionate kiss.

"Y/n I love you. It's okay if you don't love me back but seeing you that uncomfortable made me want to tell you."

you could only stand there shocked. "I- Rodrick I" you stuttered, "I love you too. I always have and I really want to thank you for keeping me close!"

Just hearing those words made his heart melt and his confidence boost dramatically.

"I know this is my party, but" He tried, "Wanna blow this place?"

[wren-of-the-woods]

This issue comes up a few years after Geralt and Jaskier started traveling together. Jaskier notices Geralt is troubled and has an idea. He tells Geralt to take the contract (it takes some coercion, but Geralt agrees) and goes to begin his preparations.

He has plenty of experience, after all, in getting grumpy horses to like him.

now i’m just thinking about what if geralt gets a contract for a kelpie

on one hand, monster hurting people, should kill

on the other hand, it’s horse shaped…therefore roach shaped…oh no…

[fallout-lou-begas]

between rebecca sugar's old pearl/greg and amethyst/sadie sketches there's lots of stuff coming out lately about some kind of alternate Steven Universe that could have been that's about genderfluid shapeshifting space lesbians without earthly human understandings of romance both unwittingly and wittingly fucking their way through the entire population of a small town. imagine. and nobody joke "that's what the show was about though!" or i'll kill you i mean actual explicit on-screen for-adults dyke drama

[shy-blue-blossom]

Secrets

Wyatt Lykensen

Seabrook seemed to be changing every year. Two years ago the divided town was put to the test, with zombies and humans now getting along with one another. Addison and Zed are the first couple of the two. There was still a stigma about zombies from the older and odd younger generations. It was known because of what happened a year ago. Wearwolves had come looking for the mother moonstone.

Y/n's parents are some who are still wary about werewolves joining the community. She meets her boyfriend in secret because of the stigma and has yet to introduce him to them. Her sister knew. Her friends knew. Her parents would be…protective, is one word to describe how they would react if they met him.

It was a quiet night as y/n sat in her room doing her homework. Focusing and not noticing her window opening behind her. Reading through a question two hands grabbed her shoulders and pulled her backwards. The individual held her on their chest. Y/n let a squeal out as she looked at the person.

"Wyatt," She said breathlessly before she turned to hug him. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you," Wyatt answered and kissed her cheek, moving back to look into her eyes. Her cheeks went red.

Y/n hid her face in his neck. Wyatt held onto her tightly and talked among themselves. Neither of them noticed the footsteps that were getting closer to the room. The door opened and Wyatt jumped in front of y/n not risking her safety.

"Y/n, your father and I are-" Her mother stopped when she looked at the werewolf guarding her daughter. "Greg!" She called out for her husband. Footsteps could be heard rushing up the stairs.

"What?" Greg said rushing into the room not knowing what he might see. "Is y/n okay?" He continued looking around the room for his daughter. A sign of relief was let out when he noticed she was okay. "Who are you, young man?"

"Wyatt Lykensen, sir," He said standing up straight and holding a hand out to Greg. "I was hoping to meet you tomorrow."

"Greg, what are you doing? Call the z-portal!" Y/n's mother cried out.

"Why should I?" Greg said looking at his wife. "His first institute was to protect our daughter even in her home." The mother had nothing to say to that.

"Hi, Dad are you going out somewhere?" Y/n asked noting the clothes her parents were wearing.

"We are going to a party at my workplace," Greg moved closer to her and Wyatt moved out of the way, so he could kiss the top of her head before turning to his wife. "Amber, are you ready to go?" She nodded. "Look after her for me, that is not permission to do anything." He told Wyatt as he left her room. The room was silent.

Y/n giggled before she pulled Wyatt's hand dragging him to sit next to her. He watched her laugh. He reached a hand into his pocket and pulled something out. While she was distracted he placed it on her causing her to stop her laugh.

"What?" Y/n trailed off seeing what he out on her. She stared at the necklace, then at him with wide eyes.

"It's my promise to you," Wyatt looked from the necklace to her eyes. "To always be there for you as much as I can. You are part of my pack" He smiled at her.

Y/n jumped onto him, kissing him as she did, hugging him tightly. They enjoyed being together doing mundane things not worrying about anything happening outside the room. Y/n admired the moonstone on the necklace, happy to be part of his pack.

The end.

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

Masterlist

[inbarfink]

So when discussing the ending of ‘Over the Garden Wall’ and the nature of the Unknown in general, I think it is important to remember that it’s left deliberately up for interpretation. You know, it’s not a Quiz with one concrete answer we must uncover, but it’s more about our interpretations and personal feelings. Each and every one of us experiences that journey with Wirt and Greg into the Unknown in a slightly different way. 

So what I want to do here is not present a Correct Interpretation that will dispute all the others and prove them all wrong and prove myself right, I just want to share my own outlook on the nature of the Unknown. In the hopes that others will like it and it’ll inspire more cool readings and interpretations

So on some level I do agree with the popular theory that the Unknown is some sort of Afterlife - but I don’t see it as a regular Afterlife for human souls, I think it is an afterlife for Stories. This place is where fictional characters and stories end up once they’ve been totally forgotten by the living, ‘lost in the clouded annals of history’. and become.... unknown It is quite literally a place where ‘long forgotten stories are revealed to those who travel through the wood’.

That’s why the Unknown is a mishmash of different time periods and primarily visually and narratively influenced by stuff like fairy tales, ghost stories, children’s books and old cartoons - these stories have a high-tendency to be forgotten and thus get lost in the Unknown (whatever it’s because they rely on oral traditions or because they suffered from very poor preservation historically). 

And that is what the theme song, ‘Into the Unknown’ is talking about…

Where can we pretend that dreams do come true? In Stories.

And what are ‘the loveliest lies of all’? Now that would be Fiction. 

The entire concept of stories is a huge theme of this song, I think.

Beatrice and her family, Adelaide of the Pasture, Auntie Whispers and Lorna were all originally fairy tales. Maybe the same fairy tale, or maybe they were originally separated before being ‘melded’ together. (If, for example, the last child to Remember them before they were forgotten just assumed the Bad Witch in both the Auntie Whispers and Beatrice stories was Adelaide)

Pottsfield was an old urban legend about a haunted ghost town, Wirt and Greg basically played through its ‘plot’ directly. 

Miss Langtree, the schoolhouse and the other associated characters come from a long-forgotten and out-of-print children’s book. That’s why those characters tend to talk in comically-stilted expository dialogue. 

The Tavern was the setting for a series of 20’s animated cartoons.  (Although obviously set long before that era). The Tavern Keeper was created as a Betty Boop clone and was the main character. The Tavern setting was probably a mere framing device for all sort of musical animations. The reason why none of them can comprehend the idea of not having some sort of Title or Label is because that’s how they were written - all given job-related titles but not named.

Fred the Talking Horse was a main character from a forgotten tradition of humorous oral stories where he was sometimes a trickstery anti-hero and sometimes a straight-up comedic villain protagonist.

Quincy Endicott and Margueritte Grey were characters from a satiric limerick about the greedy rich and their wacky habits. (Quincy was at least inspired by a real-life person since his name appears on a tombstone in the real world)

Possibly the same limerick where the punchline was the status-quo at the beginning of their OTGW ep, that both rivals’ mansions have become connected and they assume the other is a ghost haunting their house. Or maybe they were each from different regional variations of the same limerick about a greedy rich weirdo being lost in their own house and going mad. 

Frogland and their little boat might be from a children’s book as well, but I also think that maybe… from the vignettes shown at the opening of the series…

That one might take place outside the Unknown, and shows the real inception of Frogland. Two brothers making up stories with their toy boat by the river. Since they never shared these stories with anyone else, when these two brothers died or maybe just grew up and forgot their boyhood misadventures by the stream - these stories also ended up in the Unknown. 

The Fishing Fish we see briefly in ‘Babes in the Woods’ might be a small comedic illustration from a children’s book, or another piece of limerick, or just someone’s random notebook doodle that gained a life of its own first in the creator’s mind and then in the Unknown. 

Cloud City, the North Wind and the Queen of the Clouds were also, much like the Tavern, from a very old cartoon.

The Beast was once just a mere Boogie Man to keep young children from wandering off into the woods. Ending up forgotten in the Unknown just ended up giving him a whole world of lost souls to harvest. 

Maybe the Woodsman and his daughter were always a part of the story of the Beast. But since it seems that the Woodsman being a lantern-bearer is a fairly recent development - they might have had their own separate story. Some sort of pastoral novel about a family moving near the woods? But their narrative has been ‘hijacked’ by the Beast. 

Wirt and Greg ended up lost within the Unknown cause had they actually died in the lake that night - they would have become a Story in their town. I mean we have a moody lonely teenager and his adorable little brother disappearing/dying - on the night of Halloween - after last being seen in a graveyard - with the older brother’s last act on this earth being to hand his crush a cassette of his love poetry. Can you imagine what sort of Urban Legenda you can grow from those seeds?

But as they were not yet dead, and not a Story yet… so they were technically an Unknown story. Between the borders of life and death from a human perspective because they were about to die, and from a Story perspective because they were just about to be born.

And the ending sequence, with the little vignettes showing where all the characters from all the episodes ended up. I think that’s almost like Wirt and Greg back in the world of the living and the real - being able to create happy endings for all of those stories they've met. That’s how the Woodsman’s daughter ended up being alive all along - it was less that the Woodsman's whole tragedy was a wacky misunderstanding all along. But it became so as a gift of thanks by their new storytellers - Wirt and Greg.

Because if dreams can't come true, than why not pretend?

[skulls-soul]

you know the van that Mario and Luigi have.

what if they lived in it… like Greg from Steven universe live in it not Vanlife Pinterest live in it

Give me luigi and Mario taking a shower at the gym cuz that’s the only way they can

Give me the boys sitting in a Walmart parking lot trying to make breakfast

Also them renovating the van little by little getting excited when they add in the most home made shit you’ve seen

One of them getting upset cuz it’s to cold and the blankets are being hogged by the other

After the boys find themselves in the mushroom kingdom and after saving the princess for the first time they’re given a small cottage on the outskirts of town since they have nowhere else to go and princess peach has to say that it’s fine and it’s the very least that she can do all the toads in town agreeing with her.

When the boys finally except the gift all of them a.k.a. Mario Luigi princess peach toadsworth toad and toadette Head over to the location

Mario and Luigi get really excited and explore the house with childlike joy princess and the toads are all enjoying them wander around enjoying the place but they slowly get a bit concerned about a couple of things at the two point out

“Luigi! The bathroom has a tub AND a shower”

“Mario look an actual stove and refrigerator”!!!

“MARIO LOOK AT THE BEDROOM”

“ oh we would definitely be able to fit two beds in here”

Peach would cut in saying something like “oh are you guys gonna turn the other room into a office?” Which would lead to Mario and Luigi  look at the princess with wide eyes asking “there’s another room?!?” Is that this moment that the new friends would start to wonder what kind of living situation they had before hand.

At some point when the exploring is all finished peach will mention about how she knows that “this might not be able to replace your old home but hopefully it is to your liking” and Mario will be like “this place is amazing by far the best that they’ve ever had” and Luigi would be like “I’ll miss the van but it will always have a special place in our hearts”

 insert peach doing the Pikachu gasp meme



[childoftheriver]

Revisiting this because I think it might be a still from the Jack Hargreaves show that Greg was on. Still wish I could find the episode!

[yu-huuuu]

…

No, because when someone asks me, "what would a relationship with Itachi canon be like, you know, the rogue ninja who killed everyone to stop a civil war and abandoned his brother for his own good?", I imagine a relationship similar to that of Greg and Rose Quartz.

Imagine being a civilian who enjoys playing the guitar, and one day, singing in the forest, you encounter this mysterious man.

He congratulates you, arguing that he was drawn to you by your melodious voice and the gentle sound of the guitar.

He tells you his name after you tell him yours, although you vaguely asks why he didn't tell you his last name. But, Itachi is a nice name even if there's no suffix to pair it with.

The most random and imaginative topics arise in each encounter you both have. You two always meet in the same place, always at the same time. It quickly becomes a routine for you.

Without signs indicating that Itachi comes from any village or indicating that he is a ninja, you are left wondering where this sweet man could have come from. (although maybe if you looked behind the tree that is two meters away from you, you would see the articles he used daily)

Maybe he's the son of a vendor passing through your town, or maybe he's a tourist who likes to visit towns that aren't visible at first glance on the map.

Whatever he may be, it doesn't matter, not as long as your heart beats strongly when his hand brushes yours or when his fingers gently touch your cheek as he tries to tuck your wild locks behind your ear.

Itachi knows it's wrong. He knows these encounters are wrong. But he can't help but want to be by your side, listening to you ramble about random and simple yet fascinating things that as a ninja he never would have thought or imagined.

You make him feel like someone normal, like an ordinary man. You make him feel alive, something he hadn't felt since the massacre, perhaps even long before joining the Anbu.

It's as if he doesn't have blood covering his hands. As if he doesn't bear all the hatred of the world on his tired shoulders, preventing him from breathing.

All his problems disappear from his mind when you allow him to rest his head to take a nap, while you arguing that his dark circles look too big. Nightmares and insomnia leave him when you run your delicate hands, with no calluses in sight, through his hair. The protest dies on the tip of his tongue when you scratch that specific part that quickly turns him into putty in your hands.

One morning, Itachi Uchiha vaguely realizes that the dark circles and stress marks have become smaller and blames you for the gentle fluttering his heart does at the thought of you taking care of him. Kisame looks at him puzzled when he comes out of the bathroom. At first glance, he had a neutral face, but his eyes told a different story; they looked more alive.

Kisame wondered what or who made him that way. Itachi simply ignores him as usual, trying to keep the corners of his lips from rising because his happiness hasn't waned yet and he doesn't want Kisame to see him like that.

It's a night when Itachi finally realizes that he has fallen deeply in love with you. His heart stops for a moment when he realizes that it hurts to think about leaving you when he dies at the hands of his brother.

And he simply doesn't want to.

He doesn't want to leave your side. He's being selfish, he knows it well, but for once he wants to be. He himself destroyed all his dreams and hopes, all for Konoha and his younger brother.

By sacrificing his world, he can never become Hokage or live in Konoha again.

Maybe if he cut his hair and ran away with you to live in another secluded place away from the ninja world—

He stopped.

What was he thinking? He was dangerous. Everything about him was dangerous.

He had hurt so many people, had ended the lives of so many. You deserved someone better, someone who didn't have hands stained with blood or a destroyed man.

And he simply decides to push you away.

He told himself that this would be the last time. He didn't hesitate when he told you that he didn't want to see you again and that you should stay away from him.

Maybe if he were strong enough and you didn't have him in the palm of your hand, he would have been stronger, and he would have left without explanations.

But that wasn't the case.

"Itachi, you have to tell me what's going on."

Itachi sighed, almost as if trying to prepare himself for what he was about to say. "I— you have dreams, I don't want you to sacrifice everything for me," he told you the truth, unable to hide it under a lie.

"It's a pity."

"Uh?"

"You are all I want."

“So…”

“Hmm?”

“What was the answer?”

“… Love”

“Woahhh-! I know it!”

“So do i”

…

*the end*

love like you starts playing in the background

Also— maybe I’m gonna write a series of this now that i have ao3 🤭

[holmesianlove]

Chapter 26 -  Alternate Meeting

The fresh fall of snow had made the streets quiet, and cold. They had come out tonight, despite the snow - and much whingeing from John - to meet Lestrade for dinner at a pub in the centre of town. A catch up before Christmas. Every year, they treated it like they would all be going on vacation and wouldn’t see each other for a couple of weeks, but invariably, each year, there were murders at Christmas time - heightened emotions and all of that - and they would be called back to help out. So the dinner meeting was usually unnecessary, but it was nice to take a moment away from death and casework, and acknowledge they had become more than just colleagues now. They were friends. 

After a hearty meal which had helped warm them and polishing off two bottles of wine between the three of them, they had capped of the meal with a whisky. With a lovely buzz in their systems, there had been much laughter and merriment: stories of the mad cases they'd dealt with across the year, and memories of older cases too. Greg regaled them with tales of his cheating wife and how much fun his Christmas with the in-laws would be.

And finally, after three hours together, Sherlock and John had stepped back out into the cold together. The walk back to the tube station was a few blocks, but there weren't many cabs floating around, so they began to walk.

“I always feel for poor Lestrade. He seems to like being married and in a family, but she’s clearly still cheating and he knows about it. How is that happy?” Sherlock sighed heavily.

“Everyone has their own threshold, I suppose,” John said. “Sometimes being alone is the most painful way to live. I suppose he’d rather be with her than without her.”

“How romantic,” Sherlock scoffed sarcastically.

“When we met - you and I - I was so very lonely, returning from war, and while I don’t like people, I couldn’t bear being that alone. If we hadn’t…” John let the thought drift into the cold night air, his breath creating clouds of condensation.

“Do you ever think of other ways your life might have been?” Sherlock asked. “You know, if you hadn’t got shot? If you hadn’t joined the army at all? Or what if we hadn’t met? Do you think we might have still met at Barts - if you’d stayed on after studying? Not joined the army at all? Imagine that,” Sherlock chuckled. 

John couldn’t help laughing at that too. He smiled, stopping the walk and turning to Sherlock. He had absolutely thought about this already - their possible alternate meeting and what it would have been like. He nodded. “Sometimes I think—"

It suddenly occurred to John, as the cold soaked into him, that he had left his gloves and scarf back at the pub. His lovely new warm things. He was about to turn back towards the way they had come, his words for Sherlock forgotten, when a voice stopped him in his tracks.

“John? John Watson?” The voice interrupted him. John sighed. Probably another bloody reporter. John made a decision in that instant to be on his best behaviour this time, and say nothing, as Sherlock had directed him he should from now on. He was never as calm and collected as Sherlock in these situations. Not for things like this. He spun around to flash the reporter a winning smile, just in case there was a camera at the ready again, but instead, he was greeted by a group of people, coming out of a nearby restaurant, at the front of which stood a tall man, quite respectably dressed. His salt and pepper hair coiffed perfectly, a sophisticated cashmere scarf twirled beautifully at his neck. 

John froze to the spot. His brain was working overtime and he could feel Sherlock watching him for his response, but he felt like he was going to disappear into himself. His body felt disconnected. All the blood ran out of his face to his toes. He felt hot and cold all at once. He could hear Sherlock say his name, beside him, but it sounded like he was miles away. 

“It is you. John!” the man said, rushing forward.

“Alex?” John choked out, knowing full well who it was. His voice sounded weak and raspy.

He felt Sherlock tense beside him at the mention of the name. John absolutely regretted having told Sherlock about this, now.

“John.” The man rushed to him and hugged him tight, although John didn’t move a muscle. His hands didn’t wrap around and reciprocate. “How have you been?” he asked, as he stepped back again.

“Fine,” John said stiffly. 

Alex looked next to him and took in Sherlock’s equally stylish figure. John made no moves to introduce them so he held his hand out. “Hi, I’m Alex.”

“Sherlock Holmes.”

There was a moment of silence and then: “Oh good lord, the detective fellow? Oh, of course. I had heard about your blog, come to think of it,” he directed at John. “I’d clean forgot about it. Guys it’s Sherlock Holmes - the detective!” he called out to his friends who all murmured and seemed excited. “I’ve read about you both in the papers.”

“Ah. Funny. I know nothing about you,” Sherlock said coldly, pointedly. 

John still made no move to talk. The air was thick between them all. He knew Sherlock would have deduced plenty about Alex - and him - just by standing there in silence.

Alex nodded, the encounter now incredibly forced and awkward. He was definitely assessing the two of them standing together. But it was clear John wasn’t going to speak. “Well. I won’t keep you both. It was just such a surprise… I had to come over. Lovely to meet you,” he said to Sherlock. He reached out and touched John’s arm. “So good to see you. You’re looking well,” he added in a slightly condescending tone. John’s spine straightened slightly. “I should get back.” He paused, seemingly hoping for John to still say something.

Sherlock also looked to John waiting for him to say more, though he had apparently become comatose, and then offered a stiff smile to Alex, in place of John’s response.

And with that, Alex returned to his friends and got in a cab. The street was silent again. But John remained still, silent, staring into the distance where Alex had been moments earlier.

“John—“

“Don’t,” John warned. His voice was flat, and cold and angry.

Sherlock stood beside him in absolute silence for as long as he could but John didn’t move a muscle.

“Sooo… Alex was…”

John sucked in a breath at the sound of the name. He turned to look at Sherlock, his eyes so lost all of a sudden, searching Sherlock’s face for something, for some way to escape this. He couldn't find a single way to start this conversation comfortably. So before Sherlock could speak, John rushed away, without a word, crossing the road and moving at quite a pace.

“Not a woman then,” Sherlock sighed to himself, processing the information. 

The big relationship in John Watson’s life, that could have become marriage-and-kid-worthy… and apparently broke his heart… was not with a woman at all. Alex was a man. A slightly older man, too, if Sherlock’s judgement was right. And, assuming it was pre-Afghanistan, it would have been back before marriage was legalised.

All the pieces were falling into place and Sherlock felt almost sick with understanding.

“John!” He called after his friend, but John had already disappeared around a corner into the cold night. Sherlock let out a heavy sigh and took off after him.

@lisbeth-kk @helloliriels @totallysilvergirl @221beloved @safedistancefrombeingsmart 

@givemesherbet-blog-blog @naefelldaurk @a-victorian-girl @phoenix27884 @peanitbear 

@starlitkeys @lumilama @yorkiepug @talkativeanxiousturtle @kettykika78 

@kittenmadnessandtea @whatnext2020 @egregiously-chuffed @chriscalledmesweetie @catlock-holmes

@battledress @kholkate @randomquadballpun @little-owls-things

@sillygirlsmindpalace @oetkb12 @odditiesandeverything @johnlockficclub @rainstarboii @bheadhe

@hospitableasacactus @wssh13 @br-nz @solarmama-plantsareneat @givemesherbet-blog-blog

@dw91165 @pileofstardust2106 @moonkeller @surprisinglyokay @r4venlyn  @tropelovingpainter 

@westandforships @fuck-off-watson-rp @notjustamumj @melodious-me @sherlocke3d

@otter-von-bismarck @silvergoldsea @calaisreno

[escapingrealtiylovinginsanity]

Greg “Mouse” Gerwitz (ft platonic!Jay Halstead): Not The Pizza Guy 

You swung the door open money in hand and paused at the man in front of you. “You're not the pizza guy.” He was leaning on the doorframe, his jacket damp from the night rain. His face, which had been furrowed in worry, was now caught between shock and disbelief. Your eyes fall to the badge clipped on his hip. You had thought that knock was a little loud and on the cop side. A smile comes to your lips, “You must be Jay,” 

“Yeah, I must be.” He agreed. You nodded at him and gestured into the apartment.  

“Did you want to come in? Greg is just in the shower.” It is strange for Jay to hear Mouse’s legal name. It’s even stranger to see you standing in front of him, all smiles, dressed in one of Mouse’s Star Wars sweatshirts and little else. You don’t wait for him to answer as you head back in. Jay hesitated before following you in and closing the door behind him. The living room was empty. Jay barely sees your ponytail rounding the corner as you call out Mouse’s name.  

Jay feels out of sorts. He had come over because he had been worried about his friend. It seemed like Mouse was falling back into old bad habits. He was blowing off team outings, constantly distracted by his phone, and had seemingly been in his own world. Jay's first and only thought had been that his friend was struggling with PTSD. He had feared that Mouse may have been slipping back into his former drug use. He had come intent on doing an intervention if need be. He had been planning what he would say, the options he had found, and even prepared to move Mouse in with him if he needed the extra support.  

Now he wasn’t sure how to respond. 

Mouse rounds the corner in sweats, toweling off his hair. He had clearly been alerted to Jay’s arrival. He had the grace to look guilty. “Hey buddy,” You walked back in now sporting a pair of black leggings under Mouse’s hoodie. There is a moment of quiet before another knock sounds at the door again. 

“Now that’s got to be the pizza.” You turn on your heel walking between the boys to head for the door.  

“Baby, for the sake of my peace of mind, please check who it is before you open the door this time. This is Chicago, not your small town.” You look back at your boyfriend smiling contritely. 

“Yeah, right, sorry.” They watched you head to the door. There is a brief pause and then, “You're not a murderer, right? You’re just the pizza guy?” Mouse rubs his hands over his eyes before pinching the bridge of his nose.  

“Her lack of self-preservation is going to take years off my life.”  

Before Jay can ask Mouse anything, you come back into the room with the pizza and a stack of paper plates. You give one to Mouse and then offer another to Jay. Soon you are all sitting in the living room eating pizza and the ball game is on the TV. Jay can’t focus on it and instead spends his time analyzing you and his old war buddy. Jay watches as Mouse throws his arm across the back of the couch and you lean into his side. You place a napkin on his leg, and he smiles down at you. There is a lightness in his friend, a warmth, a happiness that Jay hasn’t seen in a long time. He feels ridiculous for being so off base with how his friend was doing. 

And so fucking grateful he was wrong. 

Jay lingered after everyone had finished the food. You offer to make a pot of coffee and the boys accept. Mouse watches as you disappear into the kitchen. “She seems like a nice girl.” Mouse’s lips form an unconscious smile. 

“She is.” 

“Why didn’t you just tell me man? I was worried about you.” Mouse rubs the back of his neck scratching gently. He lifts his eyes from where they had been trained on the floor. 

“I know, I’m sorry. It was selfish but I just wanted to keep her to myself for a while. She’s so innocent. Untouched by the dark side of humanity.” Jay can see the struggle in Mouse’s eyes. The self-doubt and question of if he was worthy of something good.

Someone good.

Jay had seen it many times looking back at him in the mirror. “Her parents are still together, from a small town- never even locked her front door before she moved to Chicago- can you believe that? And she just-” Mouse threw his hands up as if he was trying to get a grasp on his own good fortune, “She walked into a cafe and right into my life. Just like that. Just like that man. I can’t even believe it. She's not anything like what I would have picked for myself.” Mouse chuckles, “She is so technologically challenged, it’s insane. I thought you guys at the precinct were bad, but it is nothing compared to her. And I can’t help but find it strangely adorable.” 

Jay put a hand on Mouse’s shoulder, squeezing it. “I’m happy for you buddy, really, I am. You deserve it. But you can’t hide her away forever. And everybody is going to want to meet her.” 

“I know.”

You come in holding a cup of coffee in each hand and creamer, and sugar tucked under your arm. You offer the cups to both men. “I didn’t know how you took your coffee.” You say in explanation and Jay looks amused as he takes the sugar from your arm and pours some into his cup. 

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Mouse takes a drink of his already doctored-up coffee. He meets eyes with Jay before taking a deep breath. “Hey, the intelligence team is getting together at Molly’s tomorrow night...Do you want to go? Meet everyone.” You smile brightly pressing a kiss to Mouse's cheek. 

“I’d love to meet your family.”