#holy hell the beard was a test to draw

[antlered-dragon]

What happens when you want to do some furry art but also draw some more AT, well this happens.

Anyway I have atually been wanting to draw an anthro Finn for a while now. I know people like to draw him as a bear most of the time. But I also wanted to be able to put him in his hat and it would be weird for him to be a bear with a bear hat.

He is a golden retriever because I remember seeing a post on here about him having golden retriever energy. This is not my usual style I draw more semi-relistic but felt since when I drew Jake in a more toony style I felt replicating that a bit but add a bit more furriness into this one.

Also gonna pat myself on the back a bit because not gonna lie he cute as hell here. Also he would realistically have clothes but I noticed I don't draw him large enough and didn't feel like drawing clothes.

[let-me-love-you-loki]

Welcome to Oblivion-Ch. 25

Chapter 25

           I sat on the floor, back propped against the sofa, books and laptop spread out on the coffee table at the apartment. Seth sat across from me with his own books, his head resting on his hands. Roman was stretched out on the sofa behind me, his fingers stroking idly against my shoulder as he thumbed through his sociology notes.

           “There is no fucking way I’m going to pass this test,” Seth lamented, practically bouncing his head against the table. “I will gladly take my cal physics exam a hundred times if I don’t have to take this one.”

           “Stop bitching,” I said with a smile. “You’re making it harder than it really is. Now, tell me the four categories of international relationships.”

           Seth reached for his textbook, but I swatted his hand away before he could grab it. I glared, lifting a brow. He tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling. He groaned. “Pure antagonistic, pure cooperative, moderated cooperative, and…”

           He scrubbed his hand over his jaw, thinking hard. I knew that he knew the answer, but Seth had no self-confidence when it came to this class. I had no idea why, and I’d made it my personal mission to ensure that he worked his ass off and passed the class.

           “Fuck,” he groaned. “I don’t remember.”

           “Intermediary affected antagonistic,” Roman said lazily from the sofa.

           I turned around, surprised that he had any idea of the answer. “How the hell?”

           He grinned at me, his dark eyes going playful. “Corbin took the class last year. He talked to himself during workouts to study. We were weight partners, so I basically learned everything he did.”

           “He still got his notes? Tests?” Seth said hopefully.

           Roman opened his mouth to answer, but snapped his jaw shut when he saw the look on my face. He cleared his throat and went back to his own studying. “Don’t think so. Corbin’s not the type to hang on to shit like that.”

           Across the table, Seth deflated. I gave him a sympathetic look. “Hey, you pass this test Rollins, and coffee’s on me for a week. You get an A, and I’ll buy it for a month.”

           He turned those brown eyes on me. “Are you bribing me with caffeine, Addy?”

           Grinning, I nodded.

           “Challenge accepted.”

***

           Dean opened the door almost as soon as Seth thumped his foot against it. He couldn’t open the door on his own, mostly because he held a Frappuccino in one hand and was using the other to keep me steady on his back. I’d jumped on his back as soon as we got back to the apartment, having found a hole in my shoe that let snow seep in onto my socks.

           “What the fuck?” Dean asked, standing to the side as Seth ducked in the door and squatted so I could slide off his back.

           I held up my foot, showing him the huge gap where my neon socks were visible. “Jesus shoe.” When Dean looked at me like I was insane, I laughed. “It’s holey, get it? Holy?”

           He rolled his eyes and threw his arm around my neck, drawing me close against him. I smiled and tilted my face up, meeting his lips with my own. Warmth spread through me. It was the feeling I always got with Dean. It was the sense of a perfect early summer night.

           “What am I going to do with you?” he asked with a smile.

           I kicked off my shoes and tugged him toward the kitchen. “Make me one of those sandwiches of yours. We’re celebrating.”

           Dean popped open the fridge, rummaging around. “Hmm? What are we celebrating?”

           Seth swept into the kitchen and hopped up on the counter, half finished frappe in his hand. He grinned. “Addy’s contribution to my caffeine addiction,” he said playfully. He held his cup out toward me in a salute. “Because of her, I got a ninety-three on my international politics test.”

           I grinned and tapped my cup against his. I leaned against the sink, feeling incredibly proud. “You put in the work,” I said firmly. “I just kicked you in the ass to get you started.”

           A gust of cold air swept in as Roman threw open the door. There was snow in his dark hair as he kicked off his shoes and threw his bag on the floor. When he saw me in the kitchen, his face lit up. “Hey, baby girl,” he boomed, crossing the room in a few strides and picked me up in a warm, steady hug. He kissed me soundly, smiling. “What are you doing here?”

           “Celebrating,” I replied, dusting the snow from his hair and his beard. “We both got A’s on our politics test.”

           Roman looked at Seth, who nodded and grinned. “No shit!” He crossed over and gave Seth one of those guy hugs. The ones that start as an odd high-five and end in that one-armed slap on the shoulder. “Congrats, uce.”

           Seth gestured toward me with his cup. “It’s Addy. Wouldn’t have passed without her.”

           The look Roman gave me made my heart light up with love. He smiled and it made his dark eyes sparkle and shine. A moment later, he pulled me against his chest, wrapping his arms around me, hands clasped at the base of my spine. I snuggled against his bulk, tucking my arms between us. When he spoke, his voice vibrated through me.

           “Yeah, Addy’s amazing.” His lips settled against my hair. “That’s why she’s la’u Fetu e Tasi.”

           I closed my eyes and tucked my head beneath his chin. He was warm and smelled like outdoors and mint.

           “Alright, out of my kitchen,” Dean ordered abruptly. “I can’t make breakfast sandwiches for dinner if you three are in the way.”

***

           Dean pulled right to the door of Felton Hall. He’d borrowed Roman’s truck to get me back to campus. Apparently, while he was comfortable driving his Charger in the snow, he didn’t like to do it. The salt fucked up the paint he said.

           The inside of the truck was warm and cozy. For some reason, I had the sudden thought that it smelled like fresh bread. One of Dean’s breakfast sandwiches was wrapped up in aluminum foil and tucked into the pocket of my hoodie. He’d made an extra for me to bring back home as a snack.

           “Hey,” I said quietly, tucking my hair behind my ears. My heart thumped in my chest. I had thoughts and words swirling around in my head, but I couldn’t figure out how to get them out. “Can I ask you a question?”

           He turned in the driver’s seat and looked at me with those denim eyes of his. His gentle fingers brushed against my cheek. “What’s up, princess?”

           I looked away, feeling my whole body start to overheat. I was embarrassed by the question… the request. What if they thought the worst? What if this ruined everything?

           “Are you okay?” he inquired, stroking his thumb along my jaw. He moved as close as he could. “What’s going on in that head of yours, Addy?”

           It was now or never. I couldn’t explain why, but it just felt easier to talk about this with Dean. My eyes squeezed shut, courage gathering in my chest. “Have you ever thought about you and me… and Ro? Together? At the same time?”

           Quiet, heavy and thick, settled in the enclosed cab. It felt like my heart was going to pound straight past my ribs. My stomach dropped. I felt sick, terrified of what might happen when he spoke.

           “Is it something you want?” he asked. Dean settled his hand on the side of my throat, thumb against my jaw, fingers in my hair at the nape of my neck.

           Tears burned my eyes. I wanted to sob, but I couldn’t make them come. Instead, all I could focus on was the gentleness in his touch and the soft understanding in his voice. His fingers steadied my pulse, the contact a promise that I wasn’t alone. That he was there. And that he loved me.

           “Yes,” I replied quietly. I could sense the hurt in my own voice. The fear and sadness. The ache at the possibility of losing either of them.

           His lips pressed against my forehead, lingering there as he cradled my head with his fingers. “Then the three of us need to talk about it together. If it’s something you want, we can figure it out.”

           My fingers twisted up in the front of his shirt. “You aren’t mad at me?”

           “Princess, there’s nothing wrong with what you want,” he said firmly. “I’d rather you tell us than be unhappy. And besides, why would I be mad at you? Anytime I get to see you naked and writhing is a good time.”

           I laughed, just enough that it broke the heaviness of the moment. “Even if it means seeing Ro naked, too?”

           Dean waved his hand in dismissal. “Wouldn’t be the first time. We all share a bathroom, remember?”

Tag List

@mox-made-me-do-it @vebner37 @lilred91 @not-that-kinda-gurl08​ @maelleoute

[apparentlynotreallyfinnish]

We’re Just Friends

A smutty prompted ficlet for the lovely @fanbabble

---

“We’re just friends,” Link says, voice strained. Rhett hums in the affirmative. He has no time to answer. He’s busy with Link’s neck; his mouth hot and wet against Link’s skin. Link’s eyes close when Rhett gently nibbles on his jawline. He stops to kiss Link hard on the mouth, their tongues tangling together for a moment and then he carries on his trek towards the sharp line of Link’s clavicle poking from his shirt collar. One of Rhett’s hands is rubbing Link’s lower back and the other is holding on to the hem of his shirt. The shirt is bunched up in his fist and Rhett pulls on it to reveal more skin. Link swallows hard when Rhett’s teeth sink into him.

“We’re just friends,” he moans as Rhett’s tongue tastes him again and again. Rhett chuckles and moves lower. The shirt rises on Link’s chest and Rhett drops to his knees. He nuzzles Link’s stomach, presses his face against it and groans. Link is staring at him, his breathing ragged and shallow. The hand on his back sinks lower.

“We’re just friends,” Link whines as Rhett’s hand grabs his ass. He bucks forward and his crotch makes contact with Rhett’s face. Rhett looks up at him and smiles.

“Okay,” he says, but his hands are moving; they squeeze Link’s hips and then fumble for his jeans’ buttons. Moments later, Link’s pants are pulled down around his ankles. He’s shivering, not from the cold but from the anticipation. Rhett presses his hand on Link’s bulging boxer briefs and Link moans out Rhett’s name like it’s a plea. Rhett stops. His hand stills.

“Just friends?” he asks, voice low and teasing. Link says nothing. He teeters on the edge of the unknown. His eyes are closed. He can’t look. If he sees what Rhett’s about to do next, he won’t be able to keep up with the ruse. His dick springs free and Rhett lets out a low growl of appreciation.

“Fuck, Neal. You can’t wait to be inside me, can you?” Rhett mutters. His hand wraps around the base of Link’s cock and Link whimpers. Rhett’s licks away the precum dripping from his slit. Link’s thighs tremble as Rhett inches Link inside his tight, wet mouth. Rhett wets him as his throat makes noises of pleasure that make Link’s skin prickle into goosebumps.

“Just friends,” Link reminds himself out loud. Rhett’s nose is pressed against his lower abdomen only for a second, then he backs out, releasing Link completely with a wet pop. Link peeks down. An obscene string of saliva connects Rhett’s mouth with Link’s cock and Link curses. His eyes close fast; they were open barely a second but now his brain is desperately trying to wipe the sight from his mind. It’s not working. It’s burned in there. It’s marked him for slaughter and Rhett is his butcher. 

That goddamn mouth is working on him again, slow and steady and torturously good.   

“We’re just friends. We’re just friends. We’re just friends. We’re just friends!” His voice rises as Rhett literally sucks the willpower out of him.

Suddenly, it’s too much. A line was drawn decades ago but now it’s been crossed many times over. Link’s hands fly to Rhett’s hair and he yanks on it. Rhett groans; from pleasure or pain, Link doesn’t know or care. He forces Rhett’s head to stay in place and starts shifting his hips. He goes slowly at first, testing to see how far he can push Rhett.

Rhett relaxes and lets Link move into him, fuck into him, use him as he wishes. Link grows bolder, fucks faster, pushes deeper, growling like an animal in heat. Finally, he opens his eyes properly and looks, jaw hanging slack as his dick disappears into Rhett’s eager mouth. Rhett is looking up at him, eyes glistening with want and something else – something Link’s been blind to see all these years.

Link’s vision blurs and his brain shuts down. There’s only Rhett’s wet heat around his cock and Rhett’s soft hair between his fingers and the constant moaning that’s coming from one of them – Link’s not sure which. Link pushes deep and feels Rhett gag. He immediately tries to ease up but Rhett’s hands whip up to his hips and forces him back down his throat. Link growls. He’s in awe. He’s in love. His mouth opens to let out the filth that’s been gathering in it.  

“Fucking hell. You’re such a slut for my cock, aren’t you McLaughlin? You take it like a pro. How long have you waited for me to fuck your face like this?”

Rhett swallows and gags again. He can’t answer – not with seven inches of Link in him – but Link knows the answer. It’s hanging heavy between them, pressing down on Link’s heart, making him ache with regret. Too long.

Link closes his eyes again, concentrating on the feeling. He’s close. His belly is filled with heat and pressure. He needs the release; needs it like he needs oxygen to live. He huffs and curses with every thrust. He’s shaking, almost unable to stay standing.  

“Rhett, I’m almost… Holy fuck, I – Hnnggggg….”  

Link pulls out of Rhett’s mouth and strokes himself hard and fast with a tight fist. Rhett stays still, mouth still open – waiting. The sight of Rhett vulnerable like that is what finally pushes Link over the edge. He convulses and groans as he splatters all over Rhett’s face. White, glistening ropes of cum cling to Rhett’s beard and gather on his lips. He’s licking it off, savoring all he can. When he’s done, he takes Link back into his mouth and sucks the last drops out of him as Link quivers and moans.

Link drops on his knees, weak and sated. Rhett’s arms wrap around him and their bodies pull together like magnets. Link tastes himself on Rhett’s face, licks his beard clean from where he couldn’t reach with his own tongue, and kisses him deep and hungry. His hand slips down, feels the pulse of Rhett’s cock against his pants. Another need takes the place of the one that has been quenched.

They sink onto the floor in a tangle of limbs and sighs. Link’s hand slips inside Rhett’s pants and Rhett is desperately rolling his hips against Link’s palm. Link’s sucking on Rhett’s lower lip, his tongue slipping back into his mouth; the kiss starts rough but melts into a passionate and slow exploration. After a while, Link moves down like Rhett did earlier, tasting the salt on Rhett’s neck.

“Just friends?” Rhett asks, drawing a sharp breath as a purple flower of ownership blooms on his neck. Link kisses the mark, licks it, savors it. Mine.

“No,” Link mutters against Rhett’s neck. He’s gotten Rhett’s throbbing cock free of his pants.

“No?” Rhett asks, voice filled with hope.

“More,” Link simply replies and sinks lower to taste the love of his life for the first time.

[fc5holidayexchange]

'Fool Me Thrice'

John Seed x Deputy C. C. Black, Setting aside their differences for some heart to heart.

@johnsrevelation

'Hey there! Your deputy was so much fun to write for! I can see why John is crazy about her! I hope I captured her fire well for you!'

Fluff, Inner Conflict, Mischief

-

What is a name, save for an identification of ourselves? Save for a title, a moniker, a nom de guerre or a nom de plume?

A name holds a lot of power. A fae who knows your name can use it against you. Rumpelstiltskin and Beetlejuice are summoned and defeated by their names.

Names carry weight.

Names carry purpose.

And isn’t he a chameleon? Hasn’t he worn his own names and titles like coats and hats to suit his needs?

Duncan. Seed. Baptist. Inquisitor. Herald. Brother.

John.

-

But hers… hers is a mystery.

That god damned deputy and her metaphorical carrot on a stick.

It shouldn’t be much to ask, shouldn’t be a hard question for Deputy Black to answer. But he's… he's been trying for months to pry it out of her. It's almost a game, now. Like cat and mouse, like temptation extended on a silver spoon only to be yanked away with a chastising click of the tongue.

Just last week, wasn’t she perched right here on the arm of his couch, where he's leaning now? Shapely legs crossed, head held high, that haughty smirk on those plump lips, vehemently denying anything but her first initials. At this point, John asks just because he can. Because it's second nature. Because somehow after all they've hurled at each other in this holy war, C.C. Black still answers his midnight calls and still bothers to pay him visits at the ranch.

She prances around Holland Valley absolutely obliterating all the good work he and his people have put into preparing for the Collapse. Hell, just yesterday she took a couple explosives to the YES sign on the road near his ranch. Perhaps a precursor to something bigger. Something he'll make her rebuild all on her own, and then bury her under, if she takes it down. Something-

“John Seed? Over?” the radio on his coffee table squawks.

John has to fight himself not to reach out and snatch it up as urgently as possible at the sound of that familiar voice.

“Ah… Deputy Black,” he breathes into the receiver, trying to ignore that anxious clenching in his chest, “to what do I owe the honor? I thought we’d broken up after you torched my little sign. Was I mistaken?”

“I'll make you a proposition-….” comes her response, and then… Nothing. Silence.

“…Deputy?” he forces himself into something cool, detached.

No need to sound like he's been waiting all damn day for a call from her. (No need to admit that he has been.)

Seconds tick by. Minutes.

“C.C…?”

“Sorry bout that. Had to get my sights lined up,” she finally, mercifully responds and-

“Your what?” John instinctively ducks, his eyes darting to any window in sight, “finally coming to kill me, dear?”

“Yes…” she tastes the word.

Savors it. Draws it out with such fervor that…

No. Oh no.

Oh no no.

“This sign’s pretty big John. How'd you get it all built all the way up here? Tulip should be able to knock it right back down real-"

“Deputy, I'd strongly advise you not to lay a finger on that trigger,” he blurts, seething through his teeth, “unless you’re willing to suffer those consequences personally.”

Silence again.

She is testing him.

John finds himself vaulting up from the couch, radio clutched so tightly in his hand he can hear the casing creak in protest. He's off like a shot towards the door before his thoughts can catch up to his feet. If he can get Affirmation in the air soon, he can catch up to her quick enough to spare any major damage. If she'll only just wait a little, let him stall for time.

“I dunno, Seed, looks like it's itching for some bullet holes. Like a clean canvas. Which letter do I start with?” there is a haughty smirk in her voice as she interjects, drawing John to a stumbling halt.

Against all better logic in his brain he stands stock still, seething and teetering with frenetic, anxious energy. Needs to move, needs to go, needs to get her before she makes a big mistake. Tempest of a woman, Hell of a deputy. Pride suits her just as well as wrath does, clearly. He’ll wring that neck himself. He'll tie her down and keep her stuffed in the bunker if it means keeping her out of so much fucking trouble!

“Deputy. Do not. Touch my sign. Do you hear me? Do you understand?” he barks into the radio, shoulders tense, looking for all the world like he may as well combust where he stands.

“What. No more midnight visits?” she says, and-

That voice didn't come from the radio.

Before he can whip himself around to face the source of that crooning voice, she's on him. Arms locked around his midsection, drawing him in tight against her body. Her face pressed into his shoulder, her fingers digging into his stomach. And all he can do is sag in her grasp as all the adrenaline gusts out of him like a tide receding, leaving only mild irritation in its wake.

John should not be so relieved to feel this grasp, to know who's managed to sneak right up behind him with his guard down. And yet she's got her capable hands wrapped so tightly round his heart that even the warmth of her against his back has his pulse askitter.

“Gotcha,” is all she has to breathe into his shirt to get the goosebumps rising on his arms.

“I should throttle you. Should hold you down and carve your pride right into you,” he seethes, but there is no malice in his voice.

“Mm, but you won’t. You're so gullible John,” C.C. snickers as she tightens her fists in the fabric of his shirt, “it's like you don’t trust me or something.”

Oh, and he doesn’t. Not truly, anyway. Not when the woman can’t even give him her own name. Not when she leads him along like this only to turn right back around again and go on fucking up his region. But here he is, weak at the knees and already forgetting all about her transgressions and her latest prank, if only to make space for thoughts of what this night will bring for them now that she’s here.

She seems to have the same idea, for when he doesn’t get a response out in time, the deputy releases him. She grasps his bicep, whirls him around, and effortlessly leads him, dumbfounded, to the couch he’d been perched on moments ago. Probably still warm where he’d been lounging.

“Perhaps I don’t trust you, Wrath, because you seem to have fun cavorting around Holland Valley – and nowhere else recently, mind you – ruining all that I've worked for?” he finds his voice in his rising irritation that settles so comfortably next to his giddiness, a foreign pairing of feelings.

“You say that every time I show up here, in more or less eloquent words,” she snorts, pushing him down into the cushions and standing over him, and God she's stunning in this light.

Well, she's always stunning.

“And yet you continue to jam your fingers under every little button of mine.”

Before she can retort, John’s hands are on her, tugging her right down into his lap where she feels most familiar. Strong legs on either side of him, her arms coming to snare around his neck, this…

This is precisely where she belongs.

His heart is aloft any damn time she's with him. Like a hard reset on his brain, he so easily forgets what kind of woman she is outside the security of his ranch. All thoughts become her, become want, become need, become-

“I love you, John-"

Oh.

…

“…John?”

C.C.’s gentle hand under his chin brings him back to reality, where she threads her fingers through his beard and gently pushes to close his gaping mouth.

“Well that’s… out of left field don't you think?” is all he can get out, even as his pounding pulse threatens to consume him alive, “you can’t just walk in here after giving me a coronary and take the liberty of saying something like that when I'm inclined to not believe you, deputy.”

“Hey you don't have to love me back,” she shrugs, putting up a wall though he can still trace the faint ache in her eyes at his lack of response, “not gonna break my heart that way.

Her hands fall to settle on his shoulders, and he feels her squeeze him, tracing her gaze over his face as he admires the lines of hers. The corners of her lips twitch softly, subtly, tugging at a smile, or perhaps something more to say, but she remains silent as ever. She's always been good at that, if only when she needs to be. Like now, clearly. Stubborn woman, trying to tug the emotions right out of him and into the open air between them.

And instead, John speaks in actions, winding his arms around her and tugging her down to collide the spaces that divide them. Chest to chest, her thundering heartbeat pounding against his sternum, betraying her heightened emotions. C.C. tucks her head into his shoulder as he threads his fingers through her long hair, and like this, he is whole. He has everything he needs.

Out there they’d fight tooth and nail. Hell, tomorrow morning they'll be right back to the old bullshit again. He damn well can’t just set aside their differences when Deputy Black is so insistent on fucking up his hard work for the resistance.

But John Seed is nothing if not a fool, all because of her.

And damnit, he'll fall right back into her arms again the next time. Always has, always will.

“John-"

He grumbles some non-affirmative to hush her as he tucks his face in her shoulder, breathing in the smell of her hair. Of Holland Valley on her, the trees and grasses and wildflowers. Gunpowder and smoke and purest her. Chaos on two legs, keeper of his heart.

“I love you too.”

It's her turn to stiffen, something he delights in, and her fingertips dig into his skin as she comes to tighten her hold on him. The two of them may as well be one person, tightly as they’re tangled and carefree as they are.

“Really?” she whispers, just barely a breath, as he lifts his head to press kiss after kiss to her hair, her cheek, her shoulder, anything he can reach.

“Really."

[crue-sixx]

A Study in Vampires

Title: A Study In Vampires

Author- tiddly-winx

Fandom: The Dirt

Summary: A sequel to my Vampire!Reader where she falls in love with Nikki and turns him into a vampire, based on @crue-sixx's vampire headcanons.  So the reader is taken away by a scientist to be studied to see if the vampire legends are true and if so, why.  Nikki is pissed.

Warnings: Swearing and violence.

When you woke up in a quarantined room with the bare minimum-a rock hard bed, a toilet in the corner and a table and chair set you were very confused.  You felt around for Nikki, but he wasn't there,  you took in your surroundings outside your room to see a laboratory setting, complete with monitors tracking your every move and people in lab coats processing your results.  "Where the fuck am I?!" you banged on the glass, but upon hitting the surface your skin started to burn.  You screamed and recoiled, the smell of your burning flesh surprised you.

A man with a full beard came forward and looked at you with astonishment.  You knew this man, many moons ago.  You were shocked to see him alive after at least 150 years.  You couldn't smell the decay of vampire on him, but he was Abraham Van Helsing all the same.  Yes, THAT Abraham Van Helsing from Bram Stokers Dracula some parts were embellished for dramatic effect, but the basics were true-there was a young lady who was entranced by a male vampire, who had somehow overcame her desires and granted him what he longed for-death.  You glared at him and asked "How are you still alive, Van Helsing?"

He chuckled and answered "I've discovered the Fountain of Youth, dear Y/N" he put his hand on the glass to offer a gesture of false kindness, but you didn't fall for the bait.

"You've coated the inside of this cell with holy water, didn't you?"

"Indeed" he conceded "I'm so glad to see that it worked!"

"How did you do it?  You're younger than I remember you being but I can smell that you're a plain human with a hint of embalming fluid" your fangs started coming out of your gums-you were hungry and knew this madman wasn't going to feed you.

"That's a story for a different time, dear" he pulled a lever and your cell started rotating on it's own.  You could see the ceiling open up and the sun shining brightly through.  Your rage then turned to fear as the sunlight was creeping ever closer to you.  You were only given a small corner where the light couldn't touch you and you needed to stay there or the sun would burn you.

"What's the matter?" Van Helsing laughed "Afraid of getting a tan?"

"Shut the Hell up!  Why're you doing this?!" you pressed yourself close to the corner, but not touching the glass.

"For science, of course" he grinned and pulled the lever to close the ceiling again "I want to see if the vampire legends are true and if they are then why are they so effective?"

"Whatever you did has rotted your brain!" you shouted "Once Nikki finds out, it's game over for you, asshole!"

"What can that little pup do?" he mocked you "he's not even fifty years in the blood!"

"My blood is among the strongest there is" you spat "he's stronger than most who've been vampires for centuries!"

"No need to lie to me, dear" he pressed a button and a mist began to form in your cell.  It stung as soon as the moisture hit your skin, and you realized it was more holy water.  So this is how he keeps the inside coated you thought to yourself.  If luck was on your side, you'd be able to send a telepathic message to Nikki for a rescue.  The trouble was that you didn't know your exact location, but he could follow your scent trail to find you.  But at the moment. you couldn't do anything-it wasn't searing pain like when holy water was thrown on you, but more like being exposed to a light corrosive chemical.  You had blisters over your skin and would heal and re-blister.  You just had to wait it out until it stopped.  You knew Van Helsing wouldn't let his new test subject die so quickly.

The mist stopped and you were left alone.  When you were sure that nobody was close to you, you sent a telepathic message to Nikki.  "Get up.  I've been kidnapped.  Don't know where I am.  Need help"

The message hit him like a bag of bricks, he was feeling around for Y/N when he felt nothing but old concrete.  You and him had taken to a crypt right before dawn to replenish your strength and cuddled in his arms.  How could he have not felt you being taken away from him?  He did feel a little groggy, like he used to when he was human and had a hangover.  That was a feeling he did NOT miss in the slightest.

"You alright?  What's going on?"he got up and sniffed the air for your scent.  Once he picked it up, he had to wait until dusk to do anything.

"I'm fine for now" you answered back "it's this old bastard that I met a century and a half ago, he's a mad scientist and he's experimenting on me to see if the vampire legends are true.  He's going to see how long it takes for me to die of starvation and along the way he's going to try to expose me to sunlight and holy water."

Nikki stiffened in rage, you having told him that most of the vampire legends were true, but ones like a vampire needing to be invited inside a building were false.  In his sleep, he'd stirred with a stinging sensation like thousands of bees were attacking him.  That must have been holy water "Just try to hold out for me, baby.  I'm coming to get you..."

"Please hurry"  your voice in his mind sounded desperate and feeble, something he'd never heard from you before.  It made his heart ache to know that you were suffering.  He would make that mother fucker pay for hurting you.

When dusk came he erupted out of the crypt and got on all fours sniffing the ground like a blood hound.  He had found your scent trail and followed it for a few hours, in what would take days if he were a human.  You two had taken to the crypt in New Orleans, and he followed the trail to L.A. where his old band still lived.

He crept up on the building that was well lit from the outside with fog lights.  He tried to barge right in, but he was stopped when the lights turned out to be solar UV lights that simulated the sun.  He recoiled and cursed-he would need human help, and he knew just where to go.

He approached Tommy's house and knocked on the door.  Despite the legend about not being able to come in uninvited being false, he didn't want to violate his best friend's privacy.  When the drummer came to the door, his face went ghost white and called to his wife "Hey Pam, I'm just gonna sit on the porch and have a smoke okay?"

"Yeah, whatever" the female said in a tired voice.

"It's been a long time Nikki..." he marveled at his friend's unchanged appearance while he was older and slightly worn. "About 20 years?"

"Yeah man" he tried to smile.  You and him had made social calls to his friends dozens of times over the years and it never ceased to amaze them how young and fit you both looked.  "I need your help..."

"What's up?" Tommy was on the alert now, neither of you having to ask any of your human friends for help until now.  He knew you must have been in dire straights, or you would have been with Nikki.

"Y/N's been taken by a mad scientist.  I followed her scent trail to a building deep in the mountains but they have it all covered with UV lights so a vampire can't get in or out..."

Tommy contemplated this and asked "How would I get IN though?"

"Leave that part to me" Nikki grinned, his fangs glittering in the lamp light.  "They were anticipating a vampire, not a whole bunch of his familiars" you had given him training on how to control animals to do his bidding, and he was now an expert at it-even better than you.

"Alright, so while the animals are creating a distraction, I go in and shut off the lights and security?" he asked.

"Bingo, T-Bone" he always loved calling Tommy T-Bone.  Tommy Lee was his ride or die friend to the end.

Tommy opened the door and called to his wife "Hey Pam, I'm gonna go out for a bit.  I'll be back later babe!"

There was a sigh from the kitchen as she said "Okay".  She had assumed that he was out cheating on her like he supposedly did with his wife Heather.

When they got to the facility, Nikki took a deep breath and let it out, a red mist flowing out of his mouth like cigarette smoke.  All the animals in the area inhaled and their eyes turned a blood red.  "Surround the building and kill the guards.  Make a lot of noise, draw them out and away from the doors..."

A whole herd of mountain lions, bears and wolves surrounded the area and approached the open grounds.  The fools didn't think that they needed a gate of any kind.  The guards were patrolling the perimeter when a pack of wolves pounced on one and began devouring him.  His screams alerted the other guards and they were attacked by the bears.  The remaining guards had radioed for back up before being mauled by the mountain lions. 

All the blood the familiars were drinking was going straight to Nikki, who only got stronger with each drop that was being taken.  One of the responding guard units had left a door open and Tommy knew that it was his cue to go in.  A wolf accompanied him on his journey to protect him, the thing tackling a guard and Tommy shouted "Where's the fuckin' control room?!"

The wolf had it jaws on the man's throat and he pointed to a door to the right of them.  Tommy turned to go and disable the systems while the wolf tore apart the man's neck.  He looked at all the complicated buttons and wires, him not knowing which ones controlled what.  So in classic Motley Crue fashion, he pulled the fire extinguisher from the wall and dosed the control panel with the foam.  Everything shorted out and the lights went off.

Nikki went in, stronger than he ever was and mowed down the guards that came in his path.  He was upon your cell when he saw you huddled in the bed under the thin cover to try and shield yourself from the holy water mist.  It wasn't working, and only served to spread the blistering over a wider area of your skin.  He punched a hole in the glass door and the entire frame came undone. 

"That was quick" you complimented from under the wet blanket.  You didn't want him to see you like this, and you felt him pick you up and take you out of the cell.  He ignored his own sizzling skin to take the blanket off of you and looked like he was about to cry, knowing you endured much pain while you were trapped here.

"Not quick enough, baby" he growled "You've been hurt so bad you need more than you normally take to heal..."

Then Van Helsing appeared behind you and said "You, sir are an excellent specimen!  I think I'll keep the both of you for observation!"

"Fuck you, dude" Nikki hissed, then the whole of the animal herd burst in and ripped the man to shreds, him screaming in pain all the while.

He carried you to a nearby cave, taking you deep inside so the light couldn't touch you.  "Drink, Y/N" he offered his neck to you "I have more than you need to heal..."

You bit down on him, he gasping as your fangs pierced his skin.  All the lives of the men that had died that night, including Van Helsing's flowed from Nikki to you and you knew how he was able to stay young for so many years.  He had figured out how to snatch bodies in his studies, and had his original body embalmed while he switched over the years until he was able to find a vampire to experiment on.  It was then that you remembered the very first thing your maker had taught you.  "Blood is lives".

"What?" Nikki asked, a little drained from you feeding off him.

"Blood is lives" you repeated "Every life a vampire takes, their blood tells their life story.  So in a way, their spirit lives on in us.  You had healed yourself and gotten your strength back, you cuddled with him and heard his heart slowly beating.

"So if we kill our friends and family, they will be with us for all time?" he raised an eyebrow, the blood from the bite in his neck drying and the holes closing up.

"Yes" you answered, knowing that Tommy was back with his wife in his house and currently fighting with her over something trivial. "But I don't think I'd like having Tommy, Vince and Mick all in my head telling me what to do"

"Hell no" he laughed and bought you in for a kiss.  After he broke it off, he said "If it came down to it and they were dying, I'd rather snap their necks and end their suffering..."

You nodded in solemn agreement, knowing that death was inevitable.  The least you could do was make it painless.  "We could remember them in our own way" neither of you knew what that way would be, but when it came to it, you'd know what it was.

[pjlowry]

Question: You’re an atheist, and you die and are brought in front of God Almighty. Will you have something to say to him? If yes, what?

I answered this question on Quora by writing a small skit. Here it is for those who’d like to read it:

(Death occurs and yours truly ends up before the pearly gates)

Me: Oh damn, is that what I think it is?

(Looks over and there is a decent line in front of the gates)

Man in Line: Shhhhhh! No talking while waiting for judgement.

Me: Really? Okay…

(Walks over and gets to the back of the line.)

Me: I hope they have more than one window open, I don’t want to be here forever…

Man in Line: You’re not going to shut up are you?

Me: Oh, hell no. What else are we going to do?

Man in Line: I was hoping to wait patiently.

Me: That’s not very productive.

Man in Line: It’s not?

Me: Fuck no! We should talk and get to know one another, and maybe even think about what we want to say when we get up there.

Man in Line: I’m not going to lie to get into heaven!

Me: Who said anything about lying? I mean discussing it so you can remember all the cool things you really did. Like cramming for a final.

Man in Line: Well, that makes sense I guess.

Me: Okay, what’s your name?

Man in Line: I’m Raif.

Me: I’m PJ; nice to meet you.

Raif: So how did you get here, PJ?

Me: I went in for surgery. Last thing I remember is being put out before going under the knife. I guess that didn’t go as planned.

Raif: That is unfortunate.

Me: How about about you dude? How did you kick the bucket?

Raif: I was tortured to death by my own government.

Me: What? Damn man, that fucking sucks!

Raif: I was sentenced to 1000 lashes and I didn’t make it past 500.

Me: Lashed to death? Fuck me… that’s brutal. What kind of fucking government does this kind of shit?

Raif: Saudi Arabia.

Me: What the hell did you do to piss them off?

Raif: I set up a blog and posted unpopular opinions.

Me: Damn man, that’s not fair! What about free speech?

Raif: When it comes to certain subjects such as the monarch and especially Islam, you are not allowed to voice a dissenting opinion.

Me: Not fair dude, just not fair. Lashed to death for having an opinion. Just not cool in my books.

Raif: I was also sentenced to death for apostasy. That sentence was supposed to be carried out after my lashes were done.

Me: Wait a second, I read about you online! I was at a few of the rallies in Toronto to protest your imprisonment!

Raif: Thank you for your efforts.

Me: I’m sorry they didn’t work man, we tried.

Raif: It’s alright, I am at peace now and here with you.

Me: I’m not sure how long we’ll be up here.

Raif: What do you mean?

Me: We’ll… we’re both non-believers. It will be a very tough interview, I can promise you that.

Raif: I am not afraid of judgement, I did good while I lived.

Me: I believe ya man, I got your back. You seem like a great guy.

Raif: Thanks, but what about you?

Me: If this place takes any of the books seriously, then I’m toast… literally! Just the amount of times I spanked the monkey is enough to send me straight down.

Raif: I see, and is there any other activity that might warrant damnation?

Me: Oh, tons of stuff. Now that I think of it, you should probably let me go first.

Raif: Why?

Me: Because I’ll look so bad, that when you come after me… you’ll shine like a friggin’ altar boy by comparison. It'll increase your chances of getting in.

Raif: You think that could work?

Me: I’m sure they’ve got some kind of quota to meet… it’s worth a shot. I’d rather have one of us make it than none.

Raif: Why thank you, PJ.

Me: No problem man, I think you’ve suffered enough.

Raif: Here step forward, we’re almost there!

Me: Already? Damn, that dude works really fast!

Raif: Here, it’s your turn!

(Steps forward to the booth at the gate, there’s an old man with a very long white bears standing there.)

St. Peter: Name please.

Me: P.J. Lowry. Writer, Poet, Outspoken Atheist…

St. Peter: And a shit disturber. Yes, I’ve got you right here.

Me: Damn, I was hoping it was an accident and you’d send me back.

St. Peter: That doesn’t happen very often.

Me: I bet it was seriously messed up when it did, right?

St. Peter: Indeed. So surgery didn’t go well I take it?

Me: Apparently. I wasn’t exactly awake for it.

St. Peter: Alright, let’s have a look here. You have an interview scheduled in Room A. Just walk down this side of the gate until you reach it.

Me: Alright… do I need anything for this interview, like pen and paper?

St. Peter: You don’t… good luck.

Me: Thanks man.

(walks down the side of the gate that St. Peter gestured to so that the line could move along. He keeps walking until he reaches a hallway with doors.)

Me: This must be the place.

(walks up to door marked A)

Me: Let’s not forget our manners.

Door: Knock! Knock!

Voice: Come in!

(opens the door and walks in. There is a single table with two chairs. One of them is occupied by a man wearing a white robe and with a beard that was even longer than St. Peter’s. He walks in.)

Me: May I? (Gestures to the chair)

Man: Sure, please sit down.

Me: given your appearance, I’m going to to out on a limb here. God?

God: In the house, motherfucker!

Me: (Sighs) Alright, I got the top dog for my interview.

God: Do you have a problem with that?

Me: Of course not! I’m actually a little humbled, and even impressed to see you doing some of the grunt work and not delegating it all.

God: Ass kissing will get you nowhere, but good try.

Me: I’ll try my best, but force of habit.

God: I know… literally.

Me: Fair enough.

God: So, surgery didn’t go well?

Me: You think?

God: Sorry to hear about that.

Me: You and me both… any chance I could get a mulligan on that?

God: Fraid not, sport.

Me: Shit, and I had so many projects to finish!

God: I think your procrastination had more to do with that than I did.

Me: Last time I checked you created everything, so that includes World Of Warcraft, baseball, and social media…

God: I also invented alcohol, weed and heroin too… but that doesn’t mean you have to go to town on them.

Me: I have to admit, alcohol and Taco Bell were surprising good.

God: Thank you.

Me: So you created those things to test us?

God: I created a lot of tests. Television, the internet, donuts.

Me: All there to test us?

God: Yup.

Me: Fuck me, I must have bombed big time!

God: You didn’t ace it, that’s for sure.

Me: Well, tell me this much: what’s a passing grade?

God: A passing grade is 55 percent. If you did good for more than 55% of your life, you’ll squeeze out a pass..

Me: You mean just like I did for all those boring university classes?

God: Exactly.

Me: So hit me with it: what’s my score?

God: You scored…. 65%.

Me: Holy shit! I got a C!

God: Yes, quite impressive for a non-believer.

Me: You know everything, so you know why I rejected religion. As the being that invented my brain, can you really get upset that I actually used it for more than just a hat rack?

God: I suppose not.

Me: And speaking of using my brain, where the fuck have you been for the last 2000 years? You’ll show yourself to Moses and Noah to help animals and Egyptian slaves, but won’t lift a fucking finger to stop all the suffering going on in the world? Like seriously man, what the holy fuck?

God: To be honest, I just couldn’t hold it any more. And when I get back from the can… you fuckers are pointing nukes at one another and have royally screwed the environment. Do you have any idea how many years it took to make that place?

Me: A few billion?

God: Exactly, and look at the mess you guys made!

Me: Hold on, so you’re telling me you were gone for 2000 years because you went to take a piss?

God: Yeah, pretty much.

Me: It takes you 2000 years to pee?

God: You got a problem with that? I am a god so I do things differently!

Me: Okay, okay… not judging.

God: You should have seen what happened the last time I took a crap. I went to pinch a loaf, and of course when my back is turned an asteroid hits the planet and wipes out all of my fucking dinosaurs! I was only gone for 20 million years, and then poof, no more dinosaurs!

Me: That does suck.

God: Yeah, I know. After that I had to go right back to the drawing board, and that’s when I invented you buggers.

Me: Well thanks, I guess.

God: Thank you for being a decent chap, Peter.

Me: I tried my best. It wasn’t easy.

God: You got a C, don’t push your luck.

Me: Fair enough… so what happens now?

God: Now you go through that door and enjoy your welcome party!

Me: A party? That’s so cool.

God: Totally.

Me: You coming too?

God: Fraid not, PJ, I’ve got more interviews, and we’re kinda backlogged here.

Me: Oh… is there anything I can do to help?

God: Are you capable of judging people?

Me: Have you seen my twitter and tumblr accounts?

God: Good point… you’re hired!

[dracusfyre]

Thank you for accepting the prompts !!

Nony! I haven’t forgotten you!  I was hoping to get farther along with the entire story before I posted the first chapter, but I didn’t want you to think that I had abandoned your prompt.  So here it is, a Medieval Fake Dating AU, Winteriron Style.

Far From Home (AO3)

Relationship: Tony/Bucky

Summary: Bucky, fleeing from the sinister organization of assassins known as Hydra, agrees to help kidnapped nobleman Tony get back to home. Unfortunately, it turns out that fleeing the Holy Land while hiding from both Hydra and the Ten Rings was the easy part…

Bucky put his head down and concentrated on his breathing and the rocky ground beneath his feet; one wrong step on the uncertain gravel and he’d be lost, recaptured by his pursuers.  Because of the twists and turns of the wadi he was in, he couldn’t hear them behind him, but he knew they were close.  They were also on horseback, which was his only advantage right now; the uneven ground of the dry river bed would slow them down and, if Bucky were lucky, give him enough time to find a place to hide.  This part of the country was a maze of dry creek beds, awaiting the rainy season to fill up and temporarily turn this sunburnt, acrid region into a veritable Eden.   It would take Hydra weeks to systematically search them all.

The risk, of course, was that Bucky would himself get lost in the maze and die unpleasantly of thirst and exposure, but he’d far prefer that than getting dragged back to the Old Man of the Mountain in chains for another round of “re-education.“

A shadow in the wall of the wadi caught Bucky’s eye and he changed course to investigate.  Hidden from the main course of the canyon was a smaller river bed; following it up, scrambling over boulders and water-polished gravel, he traced his way to the irrigation channels of an abandoned farm, weedy and marked by stunted, twisted olive trees.  The collapsing farmhouse was too obvious a hiding spot so he searched instead for the well that was likely somewhere on the property.  He found it in a far corner, haphazardly boarded over, and with a prayer he slipped between the boards into the dark shadow of the well.  Bracing his back against one wall and his feet on the other, he slowly and carefully made his way down, wondering just a little too late if there was going to be water at the bottom.

But it ended up dry, which was probably why the farm was abandoned.  To his surprise, though, when Bucky dropped the last few feet to the bottom of the well he fell backwards when the ground moved under his feet.

“What the hell?” Bucky said, drawing his dagger as the darkness at the bottom of the well moved and became a lump, then a head and a face appeared.

“Who the hell are you?” The face hissed in French.  “What are you doing here?”

“Uh, hiding?” Bucky answered in French as well, rusty though it was after years of speaking Arabic.  "Who the hell are you?“

“You can’t hide here, I’m hiding here! Get your own spot.”

As Bucky’s eyes grew used to the darkness he realized that the man had been hiding under a dark blanket to conceal his pale skin from anyone looking into the well.  “There’s room for us both,” he said.  He looked up at the narrow sliver of sky visible from the top of the well.  It would take far too long to climb back up, he would lose every minute of the lead he’d gained.  “Please.”

“Ok, fine, get under here.”  The man gestured and threw the blanket over both of them.  It was hot and humid and smelled of sweat and dirt, but Bucky was grateful for it all the same, though it would provide scant protection if anyone decided to fire down into the well.

“Who are you hiding from?” Bucky said, voice so low it was almost inaudible.  Every sense was strained for the sound of voices or horses, but so far the only sounds were birds calling to each other far in the distance.

“The Ten Rings,” the man said just as quietly.  In the darkness, Bucky made a face.  Sometimes rivals and sometimes allies of Hydra, the Ten Rings were a nasty bunch of jackals drawn from the dregs of every invading force that had thought to own the Holy Land.  This man must have been very lucky or incredibly skilled to escape.  “You?”

“Hydra.” Bucky slid his hand under his clothes and pulled out a flask of precious water.  He took just enough of a sip to wet his mouth, dry from running, then he held it out in the direction of the voice.  “Water?”

“God yes,” the man said, fumbling in the dark before he found Bucky’s hand. “Thank you.”  Bucky winced as he heard the man take a large swallow, but he had no idea how long he’d been hiding here nor how far he had fled before he’d found the farm so he bit his tongue as the man handed the flask back.

They both fell silent for a while, listening to the world go by the dubious safety of their hiding spot, until Bucky could tell that the sun was starting to set.   “Were you going to stay here all night, too?” Bucky asked, risking a glance outside the blanket. Sure enough, the sky was starting to darken.

“No.”  The man pulled off the blanket and peered upwards.  "To be honest, I didn’t really plan this far.“ It was still light enough that Bucky could finally get a good look at the man he’d been hiding with for hours; he definitely had the look of a captive, hollow cheeks and unkempt hair.  Despite that, Bucky could tell that under the scraggly beard the man was not an unhandsome one. “I’m trying to make my way to Acre, how about you?”

“Anywhere, as long as it’s away.” Bucky tested the walls of the well, wondering if there was an easier way to climb up than the way he’d climbed down.  “How were you going to get out of here?” Bucky asked.  Underneath the man’s baggy, ill-fitting clothes Bucky could tell that he was shorter and slimmer than Bucky himself so there was no way he could have climbed down the same way Bucky did.

Sure enough, the man produced a pair of thin metal rods, thicker than a hoof pick but thinner than a chisel. With a little bit of effort, he was able to drive one of them into the dry and cracking plaster between the stones of the well.  “It’s going to be hard, but easier than trying to climb up like a spider.”

“If you trust me, I will go first,” Bucky said, holding a hand out for the picks.  “I can make the holes, and then you can climb up behind me.”

For a long moment the man was silent, eyeing Bucky warily.  From what Bucky could tell, the picks were made of solid pig iron, which while it wasn’t gold or silver, it was still a valuable trading commodity now that every scrap of iron, good or not, was needed for weapons for the Holy War.  Eventually, though, the man handed them over.  “I’ll wait for you at the top and give them back,” Bucky promised, and he slowly made his way up, using the picks to chisel out hand- and foot-holds all the way up.  When he got near the lip of the well he paused, even though his arms and legs were burning, and searched carefully for signs of people.  Though the sun was already past the edge of the horizon, Bucky could tell that the farm was still deserted.  “All clear,” he called back down, and after a few minutes the man’s head popped out of the top of the well.

“Thank God,” the man said, taking a deep breath and stretching his limbs, turning his face to the sky as if it were something he hadn’t seen in a long while.  The North Star was already out, shining serenely in the rosy sky, and the moon was low and fat at the edge of the horizon.  “By the way, my name is Antoine,” the man said, holding his hand out.

“Iacobus, but call me Bucky,” he said, shaking it and handing the picks back over.  “Thank you,” he added. “For helping me.”

“Yeah, about that,” Antoine said, hugging his arms around himself; as the sun went down, the air had grown noticeably chillier. “If you’re not heading in any particular direction, how do you feel about helping me get to Acre? I mean, two heads are better than one, right? Maybe people will pay less attention to us if we travel together instead of apart.”

“Um…” Bucky tried to think of a polite way to say, “I don’t think you’ll be able to keep up with me,” because even if the man had been in good shape prior to his captivity, months of being held by the Ten Rings had undoubtedly taken a toll on him physically.  Meanwhile, Bucky was at the peak of his training, able to jog for miles in the heat of the day without faltering and go days without food or sleep.  On the other hand, the man had a point; fighters who traveled by themselves were treated with suspicion and mistrust and frequently driven out of towns at the first sign of trouble.

“I can pay you,” the man added when Bucky’s hesitation grew telling.  “I know it doesn’t look like it right now, but if you can get me to the Knights Templar station near Acre, I’ll be able to pay you, I promise.”

At the mention of the Knights Templar, everything started to make more sense.  “The Ten Rings were holding you for ransom,” Bucky said with dawning realization.  That explained why a man like this, with his good, even teeth and flawless French, was being held by an organization like the Ten Rings.

“Yes.  I mean, they were also making me work for them, but I am pretty sure they kidnapped me for ransom.”  That explained the callouses on the man’s hands, which were certainly not something a fancy, ransom-worthy French noblemen would have. Bucky wondered what kind of work they’d had him doing.

“Yes, I’ll help you,” Bucky decided.  Taking another look at the North Star, he turned and started walking. "Acre is this way,” he said over his shoulder. “But we should reach the closest town by daybreak, even if we have to take a rest.”

Antoine jogged a little to catch up. “You haven’t said how much you want in return for your aide.”

“Depends on who finds us first, Hydra or the Ten Rings,” Bucky said dryly. “I’ll tell you what: if either of us get killed on the way to Acre, I’ll give you a 100 percent discount.”

[the-last-airbadger]

My 2018

It’s time for my annual evening of reflection everybody! The moment you’ve all been waiting for! It feels kinda weird to make a post like this because I feel like I haven’t done this kind of thing in ages, but it’s tradition and I like making these, so I’ve got last year’s post right with me and I’m ready for some reflection!

The Beginning of 2018 vs. Now Honestly, I don’t really remember much from the beginning of the year? I just know that I was working as a postman back then and that’s basically all I did during that period. It was cold outside, I disliked my job and I was unsure of which subject to pick to study in university. I also had some pretty bad dysphoria days around like... march? I don’t really remember. It wasn’t all bad though, I already felt a lot better than the year before and I was optimistic that it would get even better in the future. 

Best things about 2018 The very best thing to happen this year was my top-surgery. I’d been waiting for the moment I got my surgery for more than 2 years and the dysphoria became increasingly harder to deal with. On top of that I was constantly scared that something would happen that would cancel or delay my surgery. Not being able to get surgery was my #1 fear. Now, I finally can put that all behind me. I’m not fully healed yet, I still need to wear stickers to make my scars less visible, but I haven’t felt any dysphoria since my surgery. I’ve honestly never been this happy with my body. I’m still not perfect and still waiting for some testosterone changes (hurry up beard) but apart from that I am actually.... done... with my transition... whoah

The second best thing of the year was starting university. I honestly love going to school everyday, and I’ve already made a lot of new friends. I even don’t hate doing the homework, and I’m actually motivated to work hard and succeed. University has made my life so much better and I honestly haven’t been this happy since 2015. Bless uni.

Another thing that comes to mind (or things, really) is all the people I saw live this year. I saw Paramore in january, Markiplier in feburary, Evanescence in march, Dan and Phil, Ed Sheeran AND Queen in june, Jacksepticeye (for the second time) in October and Maria Mena (also for the second time) in December and every single one of those events was amazing. I crossed a lot of things of my bucketlist this year haha. Now all I need is to see my favourite kpop groups live (but I’m going to Day6 next month so I have high expectations)

There were more good things this year but they were mostly minor things. SHINee released some amazing music, LOONA debuted, I got into Stray Kids and Seventeen, discovered lots of great music, I (finally) quit my acting class after nailing the main part in our last performance, and I got my driver’s licence. I started driving lessons is Feburary, then had my first exam in june, failed it, took a small break, started again in october and finally got my licence in november. I hated those lessons with all my heart and they really depressed me, so when I finally passed and got my licence, I threw the biggest party lmao

My resolutions for 2018? So here it is, the moment of truth. I don’t even remember last years resolutions and I purposely didn’t look them up so this would all be a fresh new surprise. I always love looking back at these. That’s like 90% of the fun of making them

finally decide what to study - I’m studying English language and literature in Leiden right now and I have tests next week haha

Get Top-Surgery - Did That. Hell yeah

Write at least 100 pages of a story - I have written a little more than the previous year, but I still don’t think it’s more than 10 pages... that’s dissappointing.

Accomplish my reading challenge on goodreads - ...another fail. But! I read 24/35 books this year and that’s already 2 more than last year so there’s progress. We’ll get there eventually.

Start University - You already know the answer to that

Make new friends - Did that too! I’ve got a group of friends from university and they’re awesome

Quit my acting classes - Another success!

Learn how to drive - Even got my license ;)

Improve my drawing skills (maybe make a comic?) - Hmm I didn’t really draw much this year, and I definately didn’t make a comic, but I still think my art has improved slightly so that’s kind of a win?

Reach 300 followers on tumblr - BOI. DEFINATELY DID THAT. I’ve got 812 followers as I’m typing this right now.

Get more than 20 subs on Youtube and consistently create content for my channel - I’ve got 27 subs right now, and I’ve posted every single week. I was only late like once or twice in a whole year. I think I can call that a success.

Learn Divenire on the Piano - Ouch... still only know half the song. That’s a failure.

Dye my hair - Sadly, didn’t do that either. Hopefully next year

Continue to shower every day - I think I only skipped like 5 days in total so I’d call that a success too.

Start working out/exercising regularly - ...fail

Get new glasses - Success!

Expectations for 2019 Oh, I haven’t really thought about this. I kinda just expect a year of going to university and living an average but calm year. I know I’ll have 3 weeks off in january, in which I plan on reading a lot of books and just chill.  I’ll also go and see Day6 live in january (I’m so excited holy shit), and then in febuary my mom will move, so I’ll get a new house. Then I’ll probably pass my first year at university and start my second year. And that’s about it. Oh, and I’ll probably go on holiday to Sweden in the summer, but there isn’t much else I expect. I just expect a chill and happy year to be honest. It would also be great if I got a boyfriend/girlfriend but that’s more a wish than an expectation lol

2019 Resolutions?

Dye my hair (let’s give that another go shall we)\

Get a good haircut

Get a tattoo

Move out of my parent’s house (that’s a bold one)

Accomplish my reading challenge on Goodreads (I really want to accomplish that 35 books goal, it’s starting to haunt me)

Get tickets for A.C.E.’s concert

Get swol 

Communicate more with the people around me

Don’t let other people’s opinions shape my actions

Pass my first year at uni

Go swimming (I haven’t done that in 3 years)

Grow a beard (plz universe)

Learn how to make flipbooks (it looks really cool)

Learn how to knit (I really wanna make my own sweaters)

Read books on storytelling and learn more about how to tell a story

Develop my story more

Write at least 100 pages

Spend more time with my friends, both new friends and old friends

I think that’s it for this evening. I hope this was somewhat enjoyable to read, and I wish all of you an amazing and happy 2019!

[theophenes]

The one where Mike talks about Wrestling, because writing plots for other people’s characters is easier.

fOkay, so I’ll be the first to admit that it’s been a while since I’ve actually seen more than friggin’ clips, but there are two things that have recently been trending, that have stuck in my brain:

John Cena wants and Undertaker match, despite the fact that Taker is getting too damn old for this shit.

And the current tag team champions are Bray Wyatt (basically some sort of yokel cult leader with a rocking chair who convinces everyone under him to rock beards) and Matt Hardy (Equally crazy, regularly changes personality by walking into a lake, pretty certain he thinks he’s some sort of God or something)

The reality is that Taker, as much as he is the original god-damned icon, and one of the longest standing people in this business, the reality is that he needs to retie. And frankly, he deserves to retire in fucking style. No amateur shit. No small-time stuff. Nah, he needs to o to hell in a balze of glory. Frankly, this would take msot of a year to set up, but it’d be good. 

It starts simply enough. We get a few of the usual promos leading up to Halloween, through September and October. Weird jump cuts, random shots of Taker shoveling dirt, dragging the coffin, et cetera, the usual stuff. All hype, no clear knowledge.

Mean while, the tag team belt goes up in August, and is lost to, crap, I dunno, Brand new day in a 3v3 (Not like they couldn’t get a third for this, we’ll say Wray brings back Randy Orton under the Freebirds precedent). Anyhow. Hardy blames Wray for bringing in “The Serpent, whose energy corrupted our team” and Wray “Questions the convictions of a broken man.” By mid october, they’re regularly not helping each other in tag matches. Wray decides to put Matt’s convictions to godhood to the test, pushing him to fight the symbol of his failing resolve: A tag-team of Jeff Hardy and Daniel Bryant, doing the team high-flyer bullshit that makes and audience roar. This becomes a feature event at the end of september. It goes badly. Wray manages a win, but he has to go dirty to do it, forcing Matt to snap between his personae to save Jeff from a near-fatal blow at the last minute. Bryant gets to be angry about a bunch of things, and looks good while the audience watches him get a dramatic fake injury.

First week of October, Cena gets a match against Seamus, makes a big monologue (he loves making fun of that guy, seems like a good warm-up) and the match goes on, but is interrupted by Kane, in the classic demon mask (You didn’t think Kane wouldn't get to be the last big Taker story, did you?). He bombs Seamus, causing Cena to lose by DQ. He then grabs a mic. “You demanded my brother’s head at Wrestlemania,” he begins, growling in his usual ominous routine. “You demanded the dead man. You claim to rise above the hate. To be beyond it. Above it. You are not above death, Cena. Death takes all. Death...consumes us. Empowers us. In order to defeat Taker, in order to earn it, you must first fight the true Demon. Slay the demon, and you shall have your match with death!”

Dramatic? Over the top? Damn straight. Bray Wyatt, lacking a tag team partner, gos back into singles matches. He gets into some okay fights, but cuts promos going back to creepy shit, occasionally cut by taker. Everyone knows the match. Bane and Cena doing a cage match. Bryatt, meanwhile, seems crazier than usual. Mumblings about prophecies. About angels and devils. Claiming that the only way to defeat the false gods is to slay a Demon, and taunt death. Everyone thinks he’s talking about Cena. He’s not.

In a few weeks, we get our pay-per-view. A cage match between Bane and Cena. No interruptions. But before it, a new match. Daniel Bryant versus Finn Balor Tables. Bryant decides to wear his cape, Fina goes out in his more normal get-up (the classic paint was nixed because fighting Marvel and Disney over the Venom resemblance seemed like a bad play a month after the movie). Bray Wyatt, shows up, interfering on Bryant’s behalf, although Bryant clearly doesn’t want the help. Ominous masked figures, doing the weird cult thing, grab Balor after the count, running with the body. Wray knocks down the security trying to stop him, and just grins at Bryant. Cena fights Bane, and wins in the rather boring way he usually does.

In November, he gets another promo, where he explains/sermonizes that the demon’s blood was strong enough, after being tested by the dragon. However, it required a cleasning, holy power to draw its true strength out.

After a series of escalating matches where Bryant ends up defeating multiple former members of the Wyatt family, and removing their “brain-washing” by kicking their ass in the ring, Bray and Daniel get a PPV feud going. Bray “summons” his demon Finn in a new look during the match after the lights flicker, and then they fight. The new “Demon of Wyatt” runs amok, and then the match ends.

The new, Wyatt-endorsed “Evil Finn” persona shows up, with perfectly normal Finn doing perfectly normal face stuff, and demon Finn doing weird heel stuff. They never acknowledge each other’s actions or bouts.

 In January, we get more Taker promo’s. Two weeks in, at Raw, Cena has a match, and it ends with the ring going dark. Taker emerges. He grabs the mic. “You have defeated my brother, and we are good to our word. At wrestlemania, we will fight.”

Cena hesitates. “We?“

Taker grins. “Soon, you will learn.”

Bray gets more ambitious, deciding to tag-team with Demon Finn for the tag championship. They win, but again, the stage darkens. Kane emerges, saying there can only be one demon. Only one monster. Bray agrees, and says the mosnter will fight on Raw, in February. However, each demon msut offer their flesh, to prove who is mightier. Bray spends time as Demon Finn’s “manager/handler” in the interim, while Kane occasionally shows up and power bombs somebody to prove his point. They get their fight. However, Kane, being a crafty, weird half-demon, decides to make it a tag-team event. “A demon should bring his sorcerer,” he declares, and who else comes out to confront Wyatt? Jeff hardy, wearing some bizarre, hell-fire outfit, chanting sorcerous lines. Hardy and Wray brawl. Finn and Kane fight. They lose the title, as demon-king Hardy distract Wray, causign him to lose “control” over Finn.

However, Wray has another dirty trick up his sleeve. The same masked cultists that kidnapped Balor appear, and take the weakened Kane and Hardy, overwhelming them with numbers, dragging them away, one of them helping a now-titleless Wray limp out of the arena, leaving the title in the air (this gives management a chance to use a 2v2v2 tag-team event to decide who should get the belt at a big pay-per-view or foreign show).

 Another week passes, and another. We get a new promo segment. In it, we have video of Bray holding the mask of Kane, and the hair of Hardy. He rambles on, about having stolen the mantles of the great demon and the false prophet, and now only needing death’s own head for his collection. He claims to have stripped them of their falsehoods, leaving them to rot.

A new, clean Kane that resembles the corporate look, no mask, no growl, and a weirdly sedate Hardy appear on stage for a few weeks. Jeff and Matt go back to being a tag team again, while the “new” Kane takes some time off for now. 

It’s almost March, we’re near to Wrestlemania, and people are talking. Where is Kane. Is Bray going to debut his plan at Wrestlemania? Why haven’t we heard from Taker all month?

Three weeks before the big night, answers come. Taker appears, alone, monologueing. Cena interrupts the monologue half-way through, because Cena never lets anyone else talk. Cena goes on about how he’ll take on the Undertaker, how he’ll fight and win, because that is what he does. Cena demands his match at Wrestlemania, and gloats about how he defeated Kane--and the lights darken, silently.

When the lights go back on, We see the ring surround by masked figures, the Wyat family’s strange enforcers we see Bray standing there, looking at the other too, smiling. He speaks about he too, has defeated the demon, and throws Kane’s mask at Takers feet, spitting on it for good measure. “You desire vengeance, dead man?”

Taker holds up two fingers. “Two coffins, then.”

Bray smiles. “I’ll bring one for you, your brother wasn’t using it.”

Wrestlemania. Half a year of build-up. Cena enters first, with his usual fanfare. He charges in heroically. He waves to the crowd.

The next entry is Taker, complete with the old entrance. The druids, cloaked and hidden, not seen for years, bring in the coffin.A brief montage of the dead man shows up, but he arrives at the ring confident. Angry. Ready.

Wyatt arrives, flanked by his cult. his champion, Finn, is pushing a different coffin, cast in what looks like iron. It seems to smoke. Finn is wearing what looks like a remodeled version of Kane’s face mask. It looks more like an Alice Cooper video, to be honest.

The match begins, Cena and Wyatt both charging for Undertaker. Taker holds up well--he still has the skills, but it’s two on one, both eager to put taker in the coffin. And then, right when it looks like Bray has the pin, Cena on the floor in pain, the gray coffin opens, and out comes Kane, charging over the ropes at Bray. Finn attempts to stop him, but gets knock to the floor. Kane alternates between fighting Bray and punching Taker, because if anyone is going to end Taker, it’s Kane, damnit.

This four-way clusterfuck lasts for over half and hour. Pins, chokeslams, stunners, lariats, the damn works. After an eternity of fighting, Cena and Kane manage to toss wray into the wooden coffin--and it breaks in two. He returns the favor, whipping Kane into the “stone coffin,” which shatters. Cena gets chucked through the Spanish announcers table, because it should never survive. Taker gets pinned by Wray. Cena pins Kane. They face each other. Wray, making a show over the fallen Taker, performs the Last Ride on Cena. Cean kicks out, attempts and STF on Wray. Wray has no choice but to prove himself as the Dead Man’s successor, forcing him to imitate the Tombstone piledriver.

After the bell is called, the four men slowly walk out of the Arena, happy to Retire the Phenom with a true potent successor. Bray, as tribute, starts wearing the dramatic leather from time to time. Finn occasionally uses the Kane mask during a PPV entrance. And both of these men get to retire to the hall of fame in style, knowing their legacies, of the undead cult-leader and his twisted demon-spawn brother, are celebrated and honored by some damn talented wrestlers in this generation.

[noditchablepromdate]

A consideration of the muse via TV Tropes

//Mun comments: these are based on my interpretation of and headcanons for the muse, not just canon events.

Appearance/Physical

American Accents - though Bobby himself is from South Dakota, his accent definitely hints towards a more typically southern redneck. Badass Beard - one of his most distinctive features.  Blue Eyes - sometimes Icy Blue Eyes. Generally when he’s getting particularly enraged. Nice Hat - Bobby is almost never seen without one of his beloved trucker caps.  Older Than They Look - Bobby is in his late fifties when the Winchester boys show up asking for help, and by the Apocalypse he’s sixty. He’s grizzled and clearly not in his prime any more, but is still younger-looking, tougher and much more physically capable than a guy his age would usually be. Seriously Scruffy - Bobby’s usual outfit is heavily worn and frayed clothes - usually jeans, t-shirts and flannel - that he’s owned for a very long time.

Personality Traits

A Friend In Need / The Reliable One - One of Bobby’s defining traits is that no matter what, if someone calls on him for help, he will do whatever it takes to give that help. Even if he’s freaking DEAD. Badass Grandpa - Bobby’s out there fighting evil well into his sixties. Brutal Honesty - He doesn’t really do sugar-coating very well, so if he’s presented with something and asked his opinion he will often be very blunt about what he thinks of it. Catch Phrase - His go-to swearword is “Balls!” and he often expresses his annoyance (or affection) by calling someone an “idjit”.  Character Alignment - Chaotic Good. Bobby gives absolutely zero fucks about legal or illegal, but he’s absolutely committed to helping the fight against evil and is basically a decent and kind person. Combat Pragmatist - He doesn’t fight in a bid to impress anybody, he just aims to take his opponent down and make them stop fighting back as fast as possible, and has no qualms about fighting dirty to get the result. Crazy-Prepared / Properly Paranoid - Bobby regularly doses visitors with holy water, keeps guns to fire several different types of monster-slaying ammunition, and has built a panic room in his basement, made of solid iron coated with salt, that is demon- and spirit-proof. He has also made several copies of all his priceless books and stashed them in safehouses around the country, just in case something happens to the collection in his house. And he does it all because he knows it could happen. He’s even described himself as a “paranoid bastard”. Deadpan Snarker - A fundamental aspect of his personality. No matter what situation, he usually manages to come up with a sarcastic or snarky quip. This can lead to Snark-To-Snark Combat breaking out, especially if it’s Crowley he’s talking to. Determinator - He just will not lie down and die. Even when a bullet to the head puts him in a coma, he spends the entire time evading and holding off the Reaper coming after him so he can warn Sam and Dean about the Leviathans’ plans. Encyclopaedic Knowledge - He’s done so much studying that he’s able to reel off facts about rare monsters, cast spells and recite exorcisms, and draw a number of sigils from memory.  Forgets To Eat / Must Have Caffeine - Bobby regularly stays up pulling all-nighters in order to do research for a fellow hunter, and in such cases will often subsist on strong coffee and/or caffeine pills. This has left him with a reliance on coffee that’s almost as bad as his drinking problem. Genius Bruiser - He looks and often acts like a typical dumb redneck, but spends most of his time at home with his books, doing research for others; when called on to join the fight directly, Bobby proves himself as capable of kicking ass as hunters half his age. Good Is Not Dumb - He might be on the side of the good guys, but Bobby sure as hell is not stupid. Good Is Not Soft / Good Is Not Nice - While he has dedicated his life to helping others and saving lives, and is gentle and caring to those in need, Bobby is also a cranky, short-tempered alcoholic who lives on his own and gives everyone, including the law, angels, and Satan himself an attitude. He’s also not likely to spare enemies out of the goodness of his heart, either - the few antagonists who manage to escape his retribution are usually the ones who talk the quickest and convince him they’re worth sparing. Otherwise he’ll finish them off without blinking. Grumpy Old Man - Has definite shades of this, though often as not he’s just playing it up, for the sake of a cover or to amuse people. Gut Feeling - Bobby’s instincts are usually spot on and he’s learned to rely on them reasonably heavily, to the point where he can usually guess within seconds if someone he knows is possessed by a demon or otherwise not actually themself. Of course, being paranoid, he’ll generally follow his guess up with a test to see how right he is. Handicapped Badass - During the year he spends wheelchair-bound; although he’s no longer able to actively hunt, his mind is as quick as ever and he’s still a crack shot. Jerk with a Heart of Gold - Famously bad-tempered, antisocial, yells at people who ask him for help and calls them stupid, regularly gets arrested and has no respect for... pretty much anyone. Also one of the key players in the attempt to head off the Apocalypse, who loves the weird little family he’s got with all his heart and will do anything for them. Knight In Sour Armor - Yeah, the world sucks and pretty much everything is horrible apart from a few little warm spots... but he’ll step up to fight for its right to exist time and time again, because that’s the right thing to do. Mr. Fixit - As well as earning his living as a mechanic and salvage yard owner, Bobby is able to turn his hand to a number of other practical skills; he’s successfully modified several guns to fire specialised ammunition, and built the panic room in his basement himself, during “a weekend off”. He’s also proven to be very capable when it comes to installing booby traps and surprises around his house, including a trapdoor outside the hall closet that drops straight into the basement and a specially strengthened basement door to keep whoever got dropped in from getting back out.  Nerves Of Steel - He’s faced down dozens, maybe hundreds, of monsters over the years, armed with a few weapons and his wits and, if he was really lucky, someone competent running backup. He’s even intervened in a showdown between the archangels Michael and Lucifer, though that didn’t go terribly well for him. Not much fazes him now. Old Master - Bobby has likely fought, researched and warded off more monsters than Sam and Dean put together, and is known to be THE person to go to if you need help tackling something you don’t recognise. Omniglot - He speaks several languages, including Japanese and Latin, and is able to decipher and translate a huge number of written languages. Only Sane Man - He often feels like this, especially after dealing with hunters who have managed to completely fail at displaying common sense. Physical Scars, Psychological Scars - Bobby has picked up scars from all sorts of monster encounters over the years, many of them reminders of what went wrong on the hunt. He also still has some old scars from his childhood, as his father used to beat him with a belt. Self-Surgery - Given he prefers to avoid the authorities unless it’s really serious, Bobby will generally patch himself up with needle, thread and a bottle of Jack Daniels. Street Smart - Studious as he can be, Bobby is also a capable survivalist and very savvy at bluffing his way into situations - or out of them. Taught By Experience / Seen It All - Bobby’s one of the best in the hunting community simply because he’s made it his business to be. He’s encountered monsters very few others have, he’s studied countless texts to find weaknesses nobody else knew about... and he’s closely linked to the Winchesters, who seem to get targeted by all the weirdest things out there. Which he takes as a learning opportunity. It’s not often he actually gets startled by something. Talented But Trained - He’s a very smart man, that’s absolutely certain, but many of his skills are what he’s picked up over a long, rough life, and he’s honed them till they’re sharp as a razor. The Alcoholic / Drowning My Sorrows - He’s turned to alcohol to cope with the horrific things he’s dealt with, from an abusive childhood to killing his possessed wife to the deaths caused because he wasn’t quite quick enough to take down the monster he was hunting. The Kirk - Usually plays this role between cool, logical Sam and hot-headed emotional Dean. Undying Loyalty - Literally, in his case; he takes lethal injuries several times, at least one of which was deliberately self-inflicted, and still keeps trying to help his boys in any way he can. Workaholic - He doesn’t often take a break from working, at least not for very long. Wouldn’t Hurt A Child / Friend To All Children - One of his more likeable traits - after the horrendous upbringing he had, Bobby will go above and beyond to make sure any kids he spends time around feel as safe as possible. He’s gentle, affectionate, and respectful of their thoughts and feelings, especially if their own parents are harsh.

Personal History

Abusive Parents / Alcoholic Parent - Bobby’s father Ed was a drunk who thought nothing of being verbally and physically abusive, punching his wife and regularly taking his belt to his son. By the time Bobby hit his teens, his mother was also blaming him for his dad’s violence. Back From The Dead - Bobby was killed by Lucifer while trying to help buy time for Sam to regain control of his own body. Castiel, newly resurrected himself, brought him back minutes later after the crisis was over. Bobby will occasionally refer to it as “that time I died” or something along those lines. Calling The Old Man Out - He finally snaps and intervenes with a rifle when his father begins beating his mother, demanding Ed leave her alone. When Ed taunts him and threatens to deal with him, Bobby pulls the trigger. Later in life, trapped in a coma, Bobby sees his father again in the memory and confronts him, fiercely claiming to be far better than Ed told him he was. Dead Partner - This applies to a number of Bobby’s old hunting friends who have died over the years, most notably John Winchester, Ellen Harvelle and Rufus Turner, all of whom he had a particular bond with. Deal With The Devil - Technicaly a deal with a demon, but the same principle. When Lucifer is on the verge of triumphing in the bid to start the Apocalypse, Bobby sells - or, technically, pawns - his soul to Crowley for the final key piece of information that gives them a fighting chance. He also regains the ability to walk, though that was more of a generous freebie on Crowley’s part. (Naturally, Crowley does not keep his side of the agreement, and later has to be threatened about it.) Fighting From The Inside - When possessed by a demon trying to kill Dean, Bobby manages to put up enough of a fight to turn the blade on himself. Hero Secret Service - Technically the hunting community could count as this. Although they are not organised and have no authority figures, Bobby is a major persona within the ranks. Only Child Syndrome - With no siblings around, Bobby took the full brunt of his parents’ abuse; he never really understood why, but his mother once hinted that he was too much hard work on his own for them to handle having another kid on top. Survivor Guilt - Regarding pretty much everyone he knows who gets killed. His attitude is always I should have done better.

Romance & Family

Badass Family - Adoptive version; anyone who spends a while around Bobby will absorb some of his personal badassness, even if they are already damn awesome themselves. First Love - Karen, the first woman he ever really loved, and whom he holds a torch for long after her death. Happily Married - With Karen. Until she finds out he doesn’t want to be a father... at which point they have a fight that never gets resolved, because she’s dead three days later. Honorary Uncle - To Sam and Dean as kids, and to most other hunters’ kids he spends any real time around, he was always “Uncle Bobby”. Ho Yay / Foe Yay - He and Crowley clash repeatedly, but all that snark-laden verbal fencing, long looks, moments of real vulnerability around each other... yeah, there’s definitely something going on there. Incompatible Orientation - One of Bobby’s main attempted defences against the attentions of a certain king of Hell. Like A Son To Me / Happily Adopted - Sam and Dean, who he played a large part in raising until their teens. Also counts for any of the other younger people he takes in and becomes a father figure to. Papa Wolf - Don’t mess with his kids. Just don’t. He will hurt you. Parental Substitute - To many of the young people he takes in or keeps an eye out for, particularly those who have had poor experiences with their childhood. He absolutely relishes being able to be a positive figure for a kid who needs it. Stalker With A Crush - This is how he tends to treat Crowley a lot of the time, especially when the demon’s being particularly flirtatious or overly attentive. Team Dad - To... well, pretty much everyone with the age or life experience to be considered a kid in his eyes. This includes the Winchesters, Jo Harvelle, several other hunters around their age, a freaking Vampire Slayer, and Castiel, an actual angel with the social savvy of a very sheltered gerbil.

[aghiadghazal]

Mysterious Ways

I saw you in my dreams yesterday Michael, said the priest with a straight face, absent of his usual warm and comforting smile.

I was in the middle of a vast barren wheat field in what seems to be the end of a snow storm, so light snow was still softly falling. I could see the falling snow on the rooftops of houses and churches in our village in the distance, silence filled the air, I could only hear the creaking sound of snow under my partially wet leather shoes as I walk slowly in the field. My feet sliding to the sides in my one or two sizes too big shoes, twisting my ageing knees ever so slightly.

That’s when I saw her, descending from the gloomy clouds, with an aura of light that filled the skies, with an entourage of angels, carrying a child in her arms wrapped in white sheets, sleeping warmly as he sucked on his thumb. I stood there frozen, trembling, I am in the presence of the Virgin Marry! with her angelic smile and warm look she hovered few feet above the ground, bent slightly and handed me the child and said “priest, this is Michael, the son of Thomas the blacksmith, he is the chosen one, he will be the man to lead your people to freedom and everlasting salvation” then I woke up, breathing heavily and drenched in my bed.

Father John was an old man, who has seen it all. He has been appointed to this village for over 30 years now and he is all too acquainted with all the ins and outs of the village. He was tall with a slender figure, and slightly hunched back, but nothing too severe for someone his age. He was a powerful man, well connected to the archbishop in the capital, therefore no one could understand why he was content with just leading a church in a fairly small village.

Michael, I have shared my vision with my friend, the archbishop in the capital and he nominated your name to the king who is preparing for a massive military campaign in the coming spring. It has been three years and a half since the enemy invaded more than half the country, raping and pillaging every village, leaving only havoc in their wake. The biggest blow to the king was when the enemy captured the strategic and infamous fortress of Pillars of the Sky which was named for its location on a rock outcrop atop one of the country’s highest mountains. Recapturing it would boost the soldiers’ morale and weaken the enemy’s spirit and hopefully turn the tide of war.

Michael was a 19 year old man, handsome, with broad shoulders and arms of steel. Beautiful smile revealing perfect pearly teeth, light beard disconnected from his moustache which bothered him greatly but he was told that that gap does not close up until he is in his late twenties. He was joyful and flirtatious, Loved by the ladies, envied by the men.

His father Thomas, was a blacksmith known for his impeccable metal work. An honest and earnest man who believes serving God and the king is the highest honour anyone could ever achieve.

Michael rose to fame in his village and the neighbouring villages over the past two years due to his talent as a fierce fighter. He came in number one in the last three fighting tournaments held by the biggest city in his region. He proved exceptionally swift and strong at using the longsword defeating his opponents in a matter of seconds. However, Michael never had his metal truly tested in battle.

With the blessing of the church, the king is gathering the bravest and strongest men in the realm, and I believe you would make a great asset to his army. A man serving God and the king is a man who will never suffer the torment of hell, instead, will enjoy an everlasting life in heaven, said the priest in a calm and confident tone. You were chosen for this Michael, God wills it.

The news of the priest’s vision spread in the village, and as Michael walked in the streets of his village, people greeted him with all sort of nicknames such as ‘the liberator’ and others would call him ‘the rising Wyvern’ for wyvern was the symbol of the kingdom. Legend has it that king Bardol, the founder of the kingdom rode a wyvern in the final battle of the Great War against his enemies 420 years ago after which he crushed all his enemies, and wyvern became the symbol for king Bardol’s kingdom.

Michael focused more and more on his fighting skills, and let go of all the drinking and partying, and drifted more and more from mingling with the ladies to become more ‘pure’ and undistracted by such earthly pleasures. He has a bigger mission now, much bigger mission.

The day has come, the day Michael has been dreaming about is finally here after waiting for more than 7 months since the priest told him about his vision. The king’s army besieged the Pillars of the Sky for 3 weeks, knowing full well that the enemy’s supplies are barely sufficient to last them more than a month. Therefore the plan is for the enemy’s soldiers to leave the fortress and face his troops in the open field. Everything went according to the king’s plan. Though the enemy’s troops were outnumbered, they had the higher ground and the fortress to back them up with archers equipped with long range arrows, which the king and his troops were completely oblivious to, therefore the outcome of the battle was not easy to predict.

Michael and 9 other fierce soldiers agreed to lead the attack. Armed to the teeth, carrying their shields which carried the king’s sigil, black wyvern against a red background, in their left arms, unsheathed swords in their rights. They had their war clothes, mail covering their chests, helmets, gauntlets and pauldrons to protect their arms and shoulders, except Michael, who believed such protective clothing would only slow him down.

Jakob, Michael’s closest companion standing by his right, shivering at the sight of the enemy troops in the distance, however, trying to conceal his fear for it is ‘unmanly’ to be terrified, soldiers like them should be fearless and death should be the least of their worries. Don’t be terrified brother, said Michael as he tried to calm his companion by putting his palm on Jakob’s shoulder, there is no need to be terrified when you have God on your side. Angels will divert the enemy’s arrows in the air and fight along side us on the battle field said Michael.

The king and his advisors were on their horses behind the king’s troops, overlooking the field. While the king and his army generals were drawing up strategies, the priests, including father John, were busy praying and blessing the soldiers with holy water.

It was a beautiful spring day, narcissus flowers filled the fields while patches of the remaining winter snow lied stubbornly on top of the surrounding rocky cliffs. If it weren’t for the slaughter that was about to take place, the field would have been splended for a nice sunny picnic.

The battle horns sounded and the drums started beating, Michael and his group of warriors charged forward, trotting, screaming war chants while the rest of the army followed 50 - 100 yards behind. All of a sudden, as Michael trotted forward, an arrow flies past his left ear, missing him by an inch, he looks to his left to see two of his companions, one shot in the neck and the other in the thigh, thrown to the ground screaming in excruciating pain, baffled by what he just saw, and before he had the time to turn his head forward to face the enemy, like a lightning bolt, an arrow pierces Michael’s neck from the front, and makes its way out of the back of his neck. Not realising what had just happened, he falls down on his knees, all of a sudden everything was quiet, he could hear his heartbeats clearly, slowing down by the second, blood gushing out of his mouth, fully awake in terribly agonising pain. Three soldiers dragged him back to the tents where physicians and priests tended the wounded soldiers.
 In complete disarray, trying to catch his breaths as they became shorter and shorter, father John comes to his bed and sits down beside him. Michael, realising that death is eminent, he stared in father John’s blue eyes not able to speak as blood filled his mouth, with his eyes subliminally asking “how could this happen? Didn’t you say God chose me for this? Didn’t you say the angels will protect me?” father John holds Michael’s hand in one palm, and says “well .. what can I say .. God works in mysterious ways” in a repetitive and monotonous tone. He was no stranger to the sentence ‘God works in mysterious ways’ and has clearly used it thousand times before. Father John makes the sign of the cross, mutters few prayers, stands up and moves to the next dying soldier while Michael closes his eyes and surrenders to his miserable fate. End. Dec. 13th 2018

[no-this-is-sin-blog]

400 QUESTIONS!

C1. Name: Mady 2. Nickname(s): Two-Bit, Madster, Mads, and (by my teachers) STOP DRAWING! 3. Birthday: April 19, 4. That makes you (age): an age 5. Where were you born (city): Albuquerque, New Mexico 6. Location right now (planet ): Earth 7. Shoe size: US Women's size 9 wide 8. How many piercings?: two and my ears 9. Tattoos?: nope 10. When you wake up you're: cold and tired 11. When you're about to sleep you're: awake 12. Zodiac sign: Aries/Taurus (CUSP) 13. Moon Sign: Taurus 14. Righty or Lefty: Righty 15. Innie or Outie: Innie 16. School: hell

Section Two: Looks

17. Nationality: European American 18. Hair colour: ginger in some light, brown in another lighting. 20. Weight: (uncomfortable subject) 21. Height: 5′ 11′‘ 22. Braces? Yep 23. Glasses? contacts

Section Three: Private Life

24. Do you have a boy/girlfriend? Nope 25. If so, who? Nobody 26. If not, do you have a crush on someone? yeah 27. Who has a crush on you? some creep in my grade 28. Ever cheated on your bf/gf? no 29. Who was your first kiss: some guy named Jack in kindergarten 30. Who was your last kiss: no one ;( 31. Are you a virgin? yes 32. Ever had a threesome before? no 33. NQ- Every been swarmed by ladybugs?: no 34. Have you ever been in love? yes 35. Broken any hearts? yeah that creep in my grade 36. Got your heart broken?  yes 37. Ever liked a friend? yes 38. What happened? they’re either dating someone or not into girls

Section Four: Past Relationships

39. How many relationships have you been in? Two 40. How many were serious enough to count: One 41. Who were those serious ones: My friend K9 42. NQ- Who used to be your best friend: Some girl who I’m gonna call So 43. What made them different: They were weird like me. 44. What happened: I grew up, she didn't. 45. FRIENDSHIP Best boy/girlfriend: Dani or Aye (Not real names, none of the names are real) 46. FRIENDSHIP Worst boy/girlfriend: So or Ant 47. Ever been kissed: Yes 48. Who do you want back: Princess 49. Who do you regret: Doing so much dumb shit 50. Why?: cause it ruined me emotionally

Section Five: Favourites

51. Song: Lana Del Rey - Cherry 52. Movie: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban 53. Food: Sushi 54. Drink: Blueberry Ice Tea (with honey and frozen blueberries) 55. Store: Walgreens 56. Television show: Eyewitness 57. Holiday: Samhain or Yuletide 58. Book: Witch Child 59. Ice cream: Honey Lavander 60. Sweets: Chocolate 61. Crisps: with fish 62. Type of music: indie or pop or rap 63. Artist: Lana Del Rey, Atlas, Samsa, and The 1975 64. Word: Brittle 65. Time of day: Lunch Time 66. Dressing: Vinegar 67. Alcoholic drink: Whiskey 68. Colour(s): Green and Grey 69. Piece of clothing: My Jean Jacket or Sunflower Jumer 70. Character: Sirius Black 71. Smell: Candle Smoke 72. Shampoo: Pantene 73. Soap: Rainbath 74. Smiley: The weird upside down one 75. Board game: Monopoly 76. Sport: Quidditch 77. Number: 7 78. Quote: "Everything is a choice" Tom Hiddleston 79. Animal(s): Cats, Bearded Dragons, Racoons, and Squirellles 80. Actor(s): Tom Hiddleston, Chris Hemsworth, Emma Watson, Tom Felton, Matt Dillon, Rob Lowe, Patrick Swayze, 82. Vegetable: Carrot 83. Fruit: Rambutan 84. Place to be: My room 85. Thing in your room: My altar 86. Gum: 5Gum 87. Shape: Stellated Icosahedron 88. Country: Europe 89. Mall: Outlet 90. Car: Subaru 91. Boy's name: Tobias or  Montgomery 92. Girl's name: Cassiopeia or Petra 93. Family member: My mom 94. Restaurant: Red Robin 95. Movie place: Regal 96. Person to go to the movies with: my friends 97. Noise: Cats meowing 98. Brand of shoe: anything off brand 99. Brand of clothing: anything from a thrift store 100. Body part of a chicken: Boob 101. Swear word: Bitch 102. Month: April 103. Possession: My books 104. Team: Fuck sports 105. Season: Autumn 106. Radio station: 92.5 107. Magazine: Ew 108. Favourite grade: 8th 109. Least favourite grade: 6th 110. Teacher: Ms. Veraya 111. Least favourite teacher: Mr. Shipp (Mr. Shit) 112. Subject: English or Art 113. Subject to talk about: ALL

Section Six: Family

114. Who's your mum?: Noel 115. Who's your dad?: Brian 116. Any step-parents?: nopee 117. Any brothers?: Zac 118. Any Sisters?: nopers 120. Coolest: My mum 121. Loudest: my dad 122. Best relative: my mom 123. Worse relative: my cousin Marilyn 124. Do you get along with your parents? My mom yes, my dad no 125. With your siblings? ehh 126. Does anyone understand you? yeah to an extent 127. Do you have any pets?:  yes 128. If so, what kind and name? 3 Cats: Button (Mister) (Fluffy Tux), Shadow (Shamu) (Short Hair Tux), and Ginger (Loki) (Tortoise Shel). 2 Dogs: Thor and Ruby, both are yellow labs, and a fuck ton of fish 129. If not, what do you want as a pet?:

Section Seven: School

131. Are you still in school? Si 132. Did you drop out?: Nah 133. Your current GPA: Probably a C average like 2.0 Idk 134. Do you buy or bring lunch?: Buy 135. ABC's?: Yes 136. Favorite class: English 137. Play any sports at school?: Nahh 138. Are you popular? Noppe 139. Favourite memory: When my friend Dani hugs me (she's such a non-touchy person that when she does its like HOLY FUCC IM SO SPECIAL) 140. Most humiliating moment: A lot 141. Most funniest moment: When my friend Aiden fell on his ass while riding his Heelys 142. Most scared moment: Every. Time. I. Get. A. Test. Back

Section Eight: What do you think of when you hear

145. Chicken: Flap Flap Flap 146. Dog: Woof 147. Christina Aguilera: uh 148. Ricky Martin: whom? 149. 50 cent: No 150. Poop: ew 151. Beach: pretty 152. Desert: Sand 153. Water: Ponyo 154. Osama: Bin Laden 155. Love: need 156. Your little brother: shh 157. Butt: Booty 158. Clowns: No 159. Wonder: Imagine 16o. Brown: Earth 161. Banana: Gross 162. Sex: Mhhhmhmh 163. Parents: 1/2 164. Homosexuals: My friends 165. God: Loki

Section Nine: Do you believe in

166. God: Loki 167. Heaven: Ehhh 168. Devil: Hel 169. Hell: Helheim 170: Boogyman: ehh 171. Closet Monsters: Ghosties 172. Fortune tellings: Sure 173. Magic: Yeah 174. Love at first sight: If it happens it happens 175. Ghosts: Yes 176. Voo-doo dolls: Yes 177. Reincarnation: Yes 178. Yourself: EH

Section Ten: Do you

179. Smoke: no 180. Do drugs: once or twice 181. Drink alcohol: no 182. Cuss: YES 183. Sing in the shower: yes 184. Like school: to an extent 185. Want to get married: yes 186. Type with all of your fingers: yes 187. Think you're attractive: no and yes 188. Drink and drive: no 189. Snore: no 190. Sleepwalk: no 191. Like watching sunrises and sunsets: yes

Section Eleven: Have you ever

192. Flashed someone: yes 193. Gotten so drunk til you threw up everywhere: no 194. Told that person how you felt: no... 195. Been arrested: no 196. Gone to jail or Juve: no 197. Skateboarded: yes 198. Skinny dipped: no 199. Rock climbed: yes 200. Killed someone: no... 201. Watched porn: yes 202. Gone on a road trip: yes 203. Went out of the country: no 204. Talked back to an adult: yEs 205. Broken a law: yes 206. Got pulled over: no 208: Cried to get out of trouble: yes 209. Let a friend cry on your shoulder: yes 210. Kissed a brother's or sister's friend: no 211. Kissed a friend's brother or sister: no 212. Dropped something on the floor and let someone eat it anyways: yes 213. Moon someone: no 214. Shop-lifted: yes 215. Worked at McDonald's: no 216. Eaten a dog: noo 217. Give money to a homeless person: yes 218. Glued your hand to yourself:   yes 219. Kissed someone of the same sex: yes 220. Had a one night stand: no 221. Smoked: yes 222. Done drugs: yes 223. Lose a friend because of your ex: no 224. Slap someone for being stupid: yes 225. Had cyber sex: no. 226. Wish you were the opposite sex: no 227. Caught someone doing something: yes 228. Played a game that removes clothing: yes 229. Cried during a movie: YES 230. Cried over someone: YES 231. Wanted to hook up with a friend: ye 232. Hooked up with someone you barely met: no 233. Ran away from home: yes 234. Cheated on a test: yes

Section Twelve: Would you

235. Bungee jump: HELL YEAH 236. Skydive: YES 237. Swim with dolphins: HELL FUCKIN YEAH 238. Steal a friend's bf or gf: nah 239. Try to be the opposite sex: yeah 240. Lie to the police: yes 241. Run from the police: yeah 242. Lie to your parents: yes 243. Backstab a friend for your own well being: no 244. Be an exotic dancer: yes 245. NQ- Kill the president: Yes...

Section Thirteen: Are you

246. Shy: yes 247. Loud: yes 248. Nice: yes 249: Outgoing:. depends 250: Quiet: yes 251. Mean: yes 252. Emotional: yes 253. Sensitive: yes 254. Gay: Pan 255. Strong: yeah 256. Weak:  yes 257. Caring: yes 258. Dangerous: when it need be 259. Crazy: yeah 260. Spontaneous: yes 261. Funny: yes 262. Sweet: yes 263. Sharing:. si 264. Responsible: ehhh 265. Trustworthy: yeah 266. Open-minded: yes 267. Creative: yes 268. Cute:. I hope so 269. Slick: kinda 270. Smart: yeah 271. Dumb: yeah 272. Evil: eh 273. Ghetto: kind of 274. Classy:  depends on the situation 275. Photogenic: NO 276. Dependable: yeah 277. Greedy: depends on what is at hand 278. Ugly: to myself yes 279. Messy: yes 280. Neat: depends 281. Perverted: Nah 282. Silly: yea 283. A B****: yes 284. A Good Listener: yes 285. A Fighter: yes 286. A Party Animal: Nah 287. A Game Freak: Nah 288. A Computer Freak: Nah

Section Fourteen: Future

289. Dream job: writer 290. Dream house: a small cottage (if I have no kids) or an apartment 291. Husband/Wife: someone really cool, ya know nice, and not psychotic 292. Kids: 2-3 293. Names: OHH I have nameees so If I have girls I want their names to be Cassiopeia, Petra, and or Alexis, and if I have boys I want their names to be Montgomery, Tobias, and or Blake 294. Pets: Cats and or a bearded dragon 295. Car: a green Subaru 296. Age you would want to get married: like 27 or 30? 297. Best Man/Bride's Maid: My friend Dani 298. Honeymoon: Germany

Section Fifteen: Your friends

299. Best friend: Dani 300. Known the longest: k9 301. Craziest: Simon 302. Loudest: Simon 303. Shyest: Simon 304. Best hair: Dani 305. Best eyes: k9 306. Best body: Dani 307. Most Athletic: Dani 308. Hot-Tempered: Simon 309. Most impatient: Simon 310. Shortest: k9 311. Tallest: me (or Simon) 312. Skinniest: Dani 313. Best singer: Dani 314. Funniest: Dani 315. Can always make you laugh: Dani 316. Wish you talked to more: Dani 317. Wish you saw more: Dani 318. Who drives you insane after a while: Simon 319. Who you can stay around forever and never get sick of: Dani 320. Ever lose a friend because you took it to the 'next level': No 321. Whose always been there when you need them: Dani or k9 322. Who is like your family: k9 323. How many friends do you have?: 8 who are kinda close 324. How many are really close? four (Dani, Simon, k9, and Kens

Section Sixteen: The last

325. Thing you ate: Salad 326. Thing you drank: Seltzer Water 327. Thing you wore: A 70's Sunflower jumper and leggings 328. Thing you did:  typed 329. Place you went: School 330. Thing you got pierced or tattooed: Ears 331. Person you saw: My mom 332. Person you hugged: Dani 333. Person you kissed: No 334. NQ- Person you beat to a juicy pulp: noone 335. Person you talked to online: Simon 336. Person you talked to on the phone: k9 337. Song you heard: Diet MTN Dew - Lana Del Rey 338. Show you saw: Star V.S. The Forces of Evil 339. Time you fought with your parents: like yesterday 340. Time you fought with a friend: almost never 341. Words you said: fuck science

Section Seventeen: Now

343. What are you eating: air 344. What are you drinking: air 345. What are you thinking: i don't want to finish my homework 346. What are you wearing: clothes 347. What are you doing: typing 349. Hair: weird 350. Mood: eh 351. Listening to: music 352. Talking to anyone: no 353. Watching anything: music

Section Eighteen: Yes or No

354. Are you a vegetarian: i try to be pescatarian 355. Are you a carnivore: no 356. Are you heterosexual: no 357. Do you like penguins: Yes 358. Do you write poetry: sometimes 359. Do you see stupid people: yes 360. You + Me: whom 361. Do you like the Osbournes: no? 362. Can you see flying pigs: yes 363. Do you sleep with stuffed animals on your bed: yes 364. Are you from Afghanistan: no 365. Is Christina Aguilera ugly: no 366. Are you a zombie: yes 367. Am I annoying you: no 368. Do you bite your nails: yes 369. Can you cross your eyes: yes 370. Do you make your bed in the morning: yes 371. Have you touched someone's private part: yes

Section Nineteen: This or That

372. Winter or Summer: Summer 373. Spring or Autumn: Spring 374. Shakira or Britney: Shakira 375. MTV or VH1: ???? 376. Black or White: Black 377. Yellow or Pink: Yellow 378. Football or Basketball: Football 379. Mobile Phone or Pager: Phone 380. Pen or Pencil: Pencil 381. Cold or Hot: Cold 382. Tattoos or Piercings: Tattoos 383. Inside or Outside: Outside 384. Weed or Alcohol: Weed 385. Coke or Pepsi: Both 386. Tape or Glue: Glue 387. McDonald's or In-n-Out: In-n-Out

Section Twenty: Opinions

388. What do you think about classical music: okay 389. About boy bands: sure 390. About suicide: please try and get help 391. About people who try to force their opinions on you: fuk off 392. About teen pregnancy: stop 393. Where do you think you'll be in 10 years: dead? 394. Who do you think you'll still be friends within 5 years: Dani or Kens 395. About gay men: queens

Section Twenty-One:

396. Do you have a website: no 397. Current weather right now: rain 398. Current time:  8:50 pm 399. Any shout outs: @flower-in-the-ashes 400. Last thoughts: help me