#jack frost unites us all

[lunanofflibrary]

OMG tysm!!! you have no idea how big a compliment "looks like stained glass" is, let alone being told my lineworks good, especially coming from you thank you for looking, and im glad you like it!! i had alot of fun, i've been meaning to draw jack with long hair since you first started drawing that god!jack design that had it. something about pretty boys with the long white hair, man. artists dream. thank YOU GUYS for having work thats so inspiring in the first place! i plan on drawing more stuff in this style now that im more comfortable in it ^^ <3

OK SO. inspired by works from people like @alkalinefrog and @twiafom (amazing work guys, hope you don't mind the tag!) i've officially subscribed to long haired jack frost, more specifically long haired jack frost with a ponytail. certain parts of this design are very much hindering on my own au and all the nightlight shenanigans BUT for the most part this is actually not that far off from a genuine "future jack frost" design, if you'd ask me to come up with one. SO here i present you, winter herald jack frost! bonus design feature explanation: -the wreath is mint, specifically chocolate mint! - the lapel is an au thing, specifically nightlight's shattered starcore -the flowers, aswell as the wreath, are from bunny! blue roses and forget me nots - his hoodie has been traded for a cloak, that tapers off near its worn ends into wintery mist - his ears are more elvish, to more closely resemble nightlight - not seen in the photo, his left eye is pastel green! - the earring is also a nod to nightlight

[dreaminglittlestar]

PAC: Love Story

Disclaimer!: This is a fictional story/reading! I picked out actual cards to kind of guide a story but this is not meant to be an actual reading or reflect your life. All of this is a FICTIONAL story for fun, like a mini-reader insert that has you in this kind of magical world.

This is just a fun little thing I've been wanting to try out for a while now, like a pick-your-adventure thing and again, is just meant to be for fun. Just think of it like a cute little surprise since this isn't meant to be tarot. But other than that, hope you guys enjoy this!

Ah, welcome traveler to my humble little magic shack. Would you like a fortune?

Choose which image you're drawn to, and your story will be revealed.

(Lovely images are from Unsplash and the links are in the image descriptions!)

Oh, a fellow mage I see. The 6 of Clubs immediately identifies you as someone with strong intuition with guidance from the forest and sky. Someone who is already in high spiritual power should seem to have no need for the guidance of some forest kook, so what brings you here? Let me see your palms if you will. Ah, yes, I see now. Soft yet hardened with lines, the burdens you carry deep within your tower. Perhaps, that is what brings you here. A relief from the great responsibilities that pile upon you due to your great sense of power.

Are you are a healer of some sort? Or is it ice that you wield? Stoic is your face, hardened by the tasks you are in charge of. Yet this ice mask of yours does little to hide your heart's desires. The 2 of Hearts comes out hidden, but underneath it lay your heart's want for love and companionship, a love truer than the gods gift upon you, instead of being stuck in the cold tower of yours making potions and spells for the good of the Kingdom. Worry not, this secret will be kept by the trees, yet they implore you to seek within.

Is this a forbidden love I see? Someone from the past, a familiar face you keep crossing paths with yet you never can seem to connect. Is this perhaps the knight from the bordering country, a rival to your owns with duty and loyalty separating the both of you from one another. Is this the person you love? Breathe, this information will not leave the safety of the canopy. While this love is not meant to be in the moment, I see a transition from the Jack of Clubs to the Queen of Hearts in the future.

By thinking outside of the box, and using that cleverness of yours you will embody all the love that you want to be, reuniting you with your heart with your mind and eventually you'll be reunited with your lover when time is right. I can not reveal more, but know that you will pursue the desires of your heart, the willow's weep of it's sincerity to come. Out of battle, when the thundering roars of war slows down and the field is empty of chaos, the night sky will sing to you to take your chance.

You appear like that of a frozen flower at the top of the mountain, someone who seems to stand strong in solitude, but under the frost lays the growing bloom, your heart desiring a true companion. And once the time is right, the exterior frost will disappear to reveal a worthy love. Worry not, those fears will dissipate, the 6 of heart repeats this tale.

Additional messages the willows' of the wasps sing to me, this knight you love is that of a "heart throb", royal and loyal, soft yet structured. You will truly be united within a couple of years, and the willows wisps for you to be patient, as he whispers to you "be patient my love, I'm almost there". Soon may not feel soon enough, but the magic can be felt and you will know. Take you chance and stand tall with your choice my dear mage.

For no brighter light than love could ever hope to stop this path.

(Disclaimer, this is fictional and for fun! None of this is accurate! Though I do hope that you enjoyed this little adventure with me! Feel free to visit again!)

Well isn't this a bit odd. A reclusive inventor paying a visit to my old humble shack? I'm honored, though it seems as your mind does not align with your heart, hence your hesitance to be here. Worry not, for the weeping willows weep no secret not meant to be revealed yet. Everything meant to happen will happen in due time.

So please take a seat, and do mind the fairies, they tend to love peeping in on any potential mischief to be had. However, I don't think you will as you seem to be kindred spirits of sorts. Ah, yes. Though hardened with time and diligence, the mischief is hidden within your eyes, still alive despite the years passing. Though along with the time came the nagging feeling of never doing enough.

A bit of a worry wart, are you? The 8 of Spades reveals that despite your outer appearance of being calm and in control, internally you overthink quite a bit. Your ambition for greater good is strong, yet it often leaves you too far from the ground. Stuck in your head with numbers and possible solutions, the greatest new inventions, but the forest advises you to think of what you already have achieved.

You are young and have yet more to grow, more than you know, though the 10 of Spades warns of your borderline workaholic tendencies creeping upon you if you overthink the future and fail to stay in the present. It's among this time between being swamped with mercenary orders and your drive for success through hard work where you will meet your future spouse.

Often stuck within the inner schematics of your next invention, you tend to fail to realize how much you already have. Perhaps the love you seek in already in your periphery, but you have yet to notice. Currently, everything blurs into together and perhaps that's also why you're here. This sense of time and dread builds up as you're constantly thinking of what to do next.

But breathe in the fresh rain after a storm, as when you do take notice of your surroundings, you will notice them, and that blurry storm will wash away. They are free-flowing, like water, and they leave you feeling light and refreshed, bringing a sense of living into your life. The Fool in Reverse and 3 of Clubs reiterates your stable footing in what is considered the real world, but you never venture far enough into the divine or present to see what's already there and the wind howls a warning; not to lose grasps what's important to you.

What do you truly seek? While you may find it a bit silly to take a break, everything may begin blurring together. Like water, let life flow and all will be revealed to you.

Additional messages that have trickled in through the sweet musings of the river tell me that you are to be patient as things happen in time, but it will be the most ordinary "magical encounter". There's even the musing of "Hey, where have you been my whole life?" with the "chilly" weather after the storm. Maybe this is love will feel like a first, but even against the current, stand strong with your values but also feel free to float along the river's path.

The river will flow where it needs to flow, as does life, with a little effort on your part, but also trust.

(Disclaimer, this is fictional and for fun! None of this is accurate! Though I hope you enjoyed this little interactive story and feel free to visit again!)

Oh my, you're quiet the adventurer aren't you? Ha ha. Harrowing through quest with that mighty sword upon your hips, you have drive and ambition. Yes, you seem quiet strong, your drive for knighthood seems compels you, is that what you wish for? I can see the fire in your eyes but your heart seems to be missing something. You seek financial compensation, perhaps?

I can see within the Ace of Diamonds that you wish to begin a new journey, an adventure or quest for financial gain within your adventurer life. Very fun I see. But to come here for a mere fortune, in this small little hut, with no near guilds or institutions that could offer you any real thrilling question begs what you wish for.

You are no longer a struggling adventurer traveling through the naked wood banks, but neither are you financially abundant. Hence, within your future, I see you taking the burden of an instrumental quest given by a powerful mage. Although you will begin the journey alone, along the way, you will meet companions and friends who will help lessen the burden placed upon you. Within that group, you will find your soulmate.

The 5 of Diamonds suggest that you will be prosperous in this journey, and you will find all that you seek for in addition to the finical gain you want. However, this is a life altering path, one where you will come to question your being, and life, as you know it. Not only is your path altered by the riches and fame of knighthood given to you, but by the companions you will meet in your life, that only enriches your adventurer mind.

The journey will not be easy and will challenge everything you had known of your previous life. But as a reward to ease your growing nerves, the willows tell me that your love is very handsome in deed. Gazes will be shared and maybe you have a trickle of fancy at first sight, but instead you busy yourself with gathering your companions.

No need for alarm, you must be patient, this does not happen in a day. And it may be possible that even after meeting, it would take a few years till you two officially begin your relationship. Dancing to the fire at nights, singing to the stars as other cajole you two to rest, and laughter will be abundant as well as comfortable silence. It's within these moments that your bond will grow and you will know.

The forest wishes to end it's wisdom, so I shall no longer speak.

Are you willing to take this jump? The rest is up to you, young adventure. May the world bless you with love and take care.

(Disclaimer, this is fictional and for fun! None of this is accurate! Though I hope you enjoyed this and feel free to visit again!)

Notes: So this was originally going to be posted in August but I kept delaying it but wanted to get it posted before October so here it is! I had lot of fun doing this but I'm not entirely satisfied with it as now. I may come back to do this again, but for now, hope you guys enjoyed this little interactive story!

Like said, this isn't an actual reading and shouldn't be taken seriously. This is just a fun little fictional story idea I've been dying to do for a while now so here it is!

[merakiui]

If you can I need you to explain that list and your reasonings for their placements 😭

It’s honestly so silly, but I do have reasons for why everyone was placed where they were.

Trey -> you can’t tell me he wouldn’t want to try it at least once, just to see how many can be stacked. He even provides you with the donuts and they’re guaranteed to be delicious because they’re from the Clovers’ bakery!

Cater -> I like to think Cater’s willing to try anything fun, trendy, or interesting at least once just to gauge what he thinks, and the idea of stacking pretty donuts on his dick makes for such a good opportunity to snap photos (only for your and his eyes of course).

Ace -> he just wants to be able to fit more donuts so that he can brag about it to his friends. If anything, it’s Ace who comes to you asking if you’ll stack donuts on it lol.

Deuce -> he loves you so much, so he will gladly allow you to stack donuts on it. He thinks you’re so cute when you’re so focused on his dick, and it’s a little flustering to be under your intense attention. Deuce isn’t complaining, though. <3

Ruggie -> as long as he can still eat the donuts afterwards, he doesn’t mind. Donuts are his absolute favorite! And he sort of wants to know how many will fit………. orz

Jade -> he’s a freak, a curious one at that.

Floyd -> he’s a freak, a curious one at that x2.

Kalim -> it sounds fun and he’s genuinely curious. This is probably a question that has crossed Kalim’s mind before, and now he absolutely must know! He’s sure you won’t mind helping him. :)

Rook -> it’s Rook. But also he’s a freak, a curious one at that x3.

Lilia -> it’s Lilia. He is absolutely wanting you to stack pink frosted donuts on his dick! If this is how young people have their fun in bed, count him in. He wants to try it.

Silver -> he’s too nice, so if you ask him he has to think about it for a minute because he doesn’t quite get the meaning at first. But then you explain it and Silver’s nodding as if it’s the most sensible question ever. He doesn’t mind it because you seemed really curious about the answer and he doesn’t want to be stuck with all-consuming curiosity all day.

Neige -> he just wants you to be happy, and if that comes at the cost of stacking donuts on it he will pay it without hesitation!

Che’nya -> also another one who has considered this question before, so he’d like to find out the answer with you. If you see a floating box of donuts in your room and hear a far-off giggle, just know you’re about to find out. Che’nya has too much fun with this.

Leona -> he thinks it’s stupid, so he doesn’t let you stack donuts on it. :( in his mind, you could do so many other (and better) things with your time than asking silly questions. Although he does tease you, smirking and asking, “If you want to stack donuts on it, it’s only fair I should get to see how many toys you can fit in there.” You’re either so embarrassed or intrigued at that prospect that now you’re considering a new question.

Jack -> he doesn’t understand why you’d ever want to do something like that. Also, why ruin perfectly good donuts trying to stack them on his dick? It’s not that he’s bragging about being big; he’s genuinely concerned for the donuts. >_< why ruin them when you can eat them as a tasty treat?

Vil -> absolutely not. Maybe in your wildest dreams, but Vil will never allow you to stack donuts on it. First, they’re donuts and he’s not one for unhealthy foods and snacks. Second, won’t it make such a mess? Third, if you wanted to know how big he is just measure it using actually units of measurement and not donuts.

Sebek -> he’s secretly flustered that you’d ask such a question, and he yells at you to “quell your insufferable human curiosity!!!!!!!” You take that as a no. T-T

Rollo -> now why would you ask him this? He stares at you for a long minute, processing the words that just came out of your mouth. His answer is simple and devoid of reason: “I’d rather you not.” There’s no swaying Rollo once he’s made up his mind.

Riddle -> Riddle’s the type who dwells on stuff, so if you leave him with that question it’s a guarantee he’s going to be putting some thought into it after he’s initially said no. And wooooo what a question it is. On one hand, it’s embarrassing and foolish. On the other, it’s you asking and donuts! An opportunity (and excuse) to have sweets with you (and also learn how many will fit on his dick). You don’t really have to do much persuading. It’s actually Riddle who either talks himself into it or out of it.

Azul -> he’ll do anything (within certain parameters) if you sign a contract. But who would be silly enough to sign a contract like that? Oh, you’re already signing. Wow. Huh. Okay. Maybe it’s his lucky day, or your curiosity is that bad. Whatever the case is, he’s more than happy to help you out with this and in return… we’ll see. :)

Jamil -> he thinks it’s foolish to waste food like that, but then, without intending to, he lets the question haunt him for a few days. How do you even think of questions like this? Just what goes on in that head of yours? Maybe he shouldn’t know, but now he’s somewhat curious and he wants you to at least explain it to him. Your explanation is either so good or so bad that he’s compelled to try it, if only because you actually managed to make him laugh outright.

Epel -> at first he doesn’t get the appeal, but then he realizes if he can fit lots of donuts on it he’ll certainly be considered big and manly, right? He’s so excited that he talks himself into it because now he’s too curious.

Idia -> no way! That’s weird and gross. Why should he sacrifice his snacks just so you can use them for something like that? >:( oh, but then I guess Idia isn’t going to see you cosplay his favorite characters or get to dress you in skimpy hentai-esque outfits… :( oh well. In the end, he caves and lets you stack donuts.

Malleus -> you’ll just need to explain it a little more thoroughly so he can understand you’re coming from a place of curiosity. He’d feel cruel to not indulge his favorite Child of Man, so he might as well allow it. And you seem so excited and eager; how can resist? You’re too cute. Malleus offhandedly mentions that he “hopes a dozen will be enough” and it has your eyebrows raising so fast. Just how big is he??????

[fablesuntold]

🃏Biography. The Joker🃏

Most of this is made up by the mun— do not steal or reblog as I’ve put a lot of thought into this. Also do not copy this layout.

Basic info:

Real name: Jack Oswald White— but this information has never been disclosed to anyone else so only he knows his real name.

Preferred alias:

Joker.

Mister. J.

John Doe.

J.

Age: 31 years old.

Birthday: Born October 31st.

Zodiac Sign: Scorpio.

Gender: Male.

Sexuality: Bisexual.

Nationality: American.

Born in: Gotham City, United States.

Currently residing in: Gotham City, United States.

Morality: Chaotic evil.

Occupation: Full time menace to society/Self proclaimed King of Gotham City.

🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏

Appearance:

Height: 1.8m / 5’11”

Weight: 76 kg/ 12 stone.

Hair: Neon Green/Brunette before the acid incident.

Eyes: Bright blue.

Tattoos: Joker has a range of tattoos from head to toe. Most resemble his alter ego. From jesters to playing cards and toothy smiles, his skin is decorated like tapestry with the art. His favourite tattoo of all is the ‘Damaged’ on his forehead as it best describes his mental state of mind. He plans to get more, possibly something that could be used to mock Batman with because why not~? He just loves to rile the caped crusader up.

Piercings: The only piercings Joker currently has are his ear piercings and a tongue piercing. He much prefers tattoos but will likely get more anyway in the future.

Scars: Due to many battles and run ins with Batman over the years, Joker has sustained many injuries much like his archnemesis. Scars litter his pale skin, some jagged and deep and some faded. Luckily his tattoos cover the worst of them— partly the reason he got them to begin with.

Other: Thanks to a rather intense fight with Batman before being escorted to Arkham Asylum, Joker’s regular front teeth were brutally smashed out and had to be replaced with silver caps— thus why his mouth takes on a more metallic look.

Faceclaim: Jared Leto.

🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏

Family/Friends:

Mother: Sophia White.

Status: Unknown.

Relationship: Joker doesn’t remember much about his time spent in his mother’s care. At the age of seven, he was placed into an orphanage due to his parents not wanting him anymore, though he briefly recalls his mother’s hand combing through his hair one last time before she turned on her heel and made a swift exit from his life— a strange display of affection for somebody who so easily gave up on him. The true reason as to why she gave him up remains unclear, but the abandonment has stuck with him more than he likes to admit. He can’t help but to wonder though.. was there a part of Sophia that regretted leaving her son behind?

Father: Damien White.

Status: Deceased.

Relationship: Much like his mother, not much is recalled about his relationship with his father. All he remembers is that his father used to shout a lot and smack his mother around when she stood up to him. Perhaps the reason he was put into care? Joker doesn’t know, but he no longer possesses the quality to care about why exactly they’re no longer around.

Siblings: He’s an only child as far as he knows. Given the fact that he doesn’t know his family at all though, it’s a possibility that he could have siblings somewhere out there.

Spouse: N/A. (Depending on the verse, I usually ship him with Harley Quinn and have a few plot ideas if anyone is interested. Bruce Wayne is also an option too as an enemies to lovers/enemies with benefits plot.)

Kids: N/A. (Again, depends on the verse.)

Pets: He once owned a pet Hyena called Chuckles, but it was quickly confiscated and sent off to a zoo when Joker was apprehended by Batman and sent to Arkham Asylum.

Friends: Joker doesn’t consider many people his friends, but his closest companions are Harley Quinn, Jonny Frost and of course he’ll claim Batman to be his best friend even though Batman loathes the bones of him.

🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏

Other:

Personality traits/Characteristics: Narcissistic, sarcastic, witty, cruel, unpredictable, brazen, overconfident, wild, crude, apathetic, heartless, clever, impatient, impulsive, aggressive, cynical, enigmatic, obnoxious, possessive, envious, greedy, menacing, loud, immature, twisted, wicked, evil, mischievous, irritable, selfish, boastful, excitable, assertive, demented.

MBTI Type: ENTP. He’s an extrovert who is creative and loves a good plan. However, he’s easily distracted by new possibilities and can often stray away from his original plans to pursue another manic idea. He’ll do anything to achieve his goals even despite the resistance from others he knows he’ll be met with.

Any mental illness: Joker suffers from schizophrenia— psychotic disorder which often results in random bursts of violent outbreaks and excessive delusions, hallucinations included. His mind is often muddled with wild fantasies that can only be described as insane and no amount of therapy has been able to provide him relief. Past therapists at Arkham Asylum conclude that he may be bordering on dissociative identity disorder too.

Weapons: Depending on his mood, Joker uses a range of weapons from handguns to bombs and melee weapons.. but his absolute favourite of them all is his trusty submachine gun. Nothing gives him a thrill quite like letting those bullets fly all while laughing hysterically about it.

🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏

Backstory:

A rough childhood behind him, Jack was born into an abusive household and exposed to violence at a young age. With his father mercilessly beating him and his mother almost every night in an alcohol induced rage, it’s no surprise that his morals were corrupted from the get-go. However, he wasn’t around his father long enough for him to be a major influence in his life when his mother decided enough was enough.

Waiting for her husband to consume enough alcohol for him to pass out, Jack’s mother wasted no time in driving her son to the nearest orphanage and after a whispered ‘you’ll be safe here’ and a quick kiss to his forehead, she disappeared off into the night never to be seen or heard of again.

Growing up, Jack always knew he was different to the other kids in care. He wasn’t interested in what they were interested in, dolls and action figures only doing so much to appease his tormented little mind. Instead, Jack found himself fascinated with crime and death which quickly caused concern for staff at the orphanage when told time and time again about his morbid curiosity. To say the least, staff often found themselves uneasy around him, especially when he started to display symptoms of early schizophrenia— the exact same symptoms that deterred any potential foster parents away from adopting him.

By the time he reached eighteen and with no success of a foster family, Jack was released as a young adult into the world— and that’s where his life of crime began. Quickly getting in with the wrong crowd after a club brawl gone wrong, Jack joined one of Gotham’s many notorious gangs of thugs where he quickly began to climb the hierarchy. For the first time in his life, Jack felt as though he had a purpose. Like he had a life worth living with people who understood him. But all of that came crashing down within the blink of an eye.

One stormy evening, Jack found himself on the end of a drug bust when Batman intercepted the deal. Him being the supplier, he was chased through the streets of Gotham until a promising escape route beckoned him in the form of a chemical factory. Little did he know this is where his life would take a drastic turn.

On the cusp of escaping, it wasn’t until Batman took a swoop at him from the top floor did he lose his footing and take a tumble into a burning container of acid that quickly burned and bleached his skin a sickly white, lips stained red and chemically altering his hair to a neon green once he finally emerged after almost drowning. It was that exact same acid that drove him further down the road of insanity. Pronounced dead by Batman, he’d once again been left behind.

Following that night Jack became obsessed with Batman and swore revenge, and in the following years he adopted his alter ego— becoming well known and greatly feared as ‘The Joker’ thanks to his unique appearance which oddly resembled that of a clown.

From bank heists to mass murder and destruction across the city, it didn’t take long for Batman to find him once again and many altercations with him later, Joker unfortunately landed himself a one way ticket to Arkham Asylum after a particularly lethal fight with the masked hero. Therapy sessions were made a mockery of, and Joker only laughed at anyone who attempted to help him, only requesting to speak to Batman. This resulted in him being doomed to spend most of his twenties confined by white cushioned walls and restrained in a snug straitjacket for everyone’s safety— including his own.

**MORE TO BE ADDED**

[invisibleicewands]

Michael Sheen: ‘I find it very hard to accept actors playing Welsh characters when they aren’t Welsh’

Has he taken the concept of authentic casting to a whole new level? Ahead of his latest BBC drama Best Interests, the star explains all

Michael Sheen has had it with the Prince of Wales. Not the man, but the title. “I think it’s ridiculous,” he says. “It’s just silly. I see no reason why the title should continue. Certainly not with someone who’s not Welsh.” 

“That’s not the majority view,” he adds, with resignation. “So, whatever the majority of people want, I’m sure will continue.” 

The star of Frost/Nixon and proud son of Port Talbot is chatting via video from a bucolic spot close to his hometown (a deer has just wandered into view), but even at a distance, it’s not hard to see that Sheen is a man ofstrong convictions.

He has spoken in the past about the opportunity to retire the title after the death of Elizabeth II, as a gesture to “put some of the wrongs of the past right”. In 2020, he returned the OBE he was “honoured” to have received in 2009 when he felt it would make him a hypocrite to give a lecture about how the English king Edward I “put a stranglehold on Wales” at the turn of the 14th century. 

When we chat, he’s about to begin shooting his TV directing debut The Way – co-created with playwright James Graham and documentary-maker Adam Curtis, about a family caught in a civil uprising, set in and around Port Talbot. The BBC project is the first from the production company that he set up with Sherlock producer Bethan Jones to focus on telling Welsh stories because, “You can shout about how bad it is, but if you want to see something be different then do it, you know?”

The 54-year-old is one of the actors of his generation, a stage star in his twenties (The Telegraph’s Charles Spencer called him “outrageously charismatic”) who went on to create unforgettable screen portraits of Tony Blair (The Queen, The Deal), Chris Tarrant (Quiz) and Brian Clough (The Damned United), alongside his David Frost in Peter Morgan’s play and film about the 1977 interviews that brought down the US president. Recently, Sheen has gained a whole new tranche of fans playing a very arch angel opposite David Tennant’s insouciant demon in Amazon’s Good Omens – not technically gay characters according to the Terry Pratchett-Neil Gaiman source novel, but seemingly in love.

Tennant and he have a natural chemistry on and off screen, Sheen says, adding that “he stops me being too grumpy”. He is a little on the grumpy side. In one exchange, in which I suggest he is a supporter of Welsh independence, he responds hotly: “Show me where it says that. I don’t believe I’ve ever said that.” Sam Mendes compared Sheen to fellow Welsh stars Anthony Hopkins and Richard Burton – “fiery, mercurial, unpredictable”. 

But he shares a warm screen chemistry with Sharon Horgan in Jack Thorne’s moving new four-part drama Best Interests. They play the parents of a child with cerebral palsy, the adorable Marnie (played by Dublin actor Niamh Moriarty), who suffers a seizure that leaves her without brain function. The couple find themselves on opposite sides of an unbearable decision: whether or not to switch off their daughter’s life support. Very few will make it through the drama without tears, but the issues it raises will be familiar to all who have followed recent legal battles over 12-year-old Archie Battersbee and baby Alfie Evans. 

Best Interests is “heartbreaking” at times, he admits, which makes the humour that he and Horgan bring to it all the more important. They hadn’t worked together before. “That relationship had to do a lot of heavy lifting. Sharon and I didn’t know each other very well … but straight from the off, we had a very similar sense of humour and made each other laugh.” Moriarty’s is a break-out performance – one scene involving make-up beautifully captures the parent-child relationship. She has cerebral palsy that affects her legs, a condition called spastic diplegia, but she’s not the only disabled actor in the piece. 

Bafta-winner Lenny Rush, 14, who in real-life has a condition that affects his growth, is brilliant as George, who sets his cap at Marnie. Mat Fraser, who plays a legal advocate in Best Interests and portrayed Shakespeare’s Richard III in 2017, has a thalidomide impairment, which likely gave him an insight into Richard’s sense of “my deformity”. 

Thorne, who experienced a chronic medical condition in his twenties, has said in the past that disabled people have been “utterly and totally” failed by the TV industry. In Best Interests, one parent of a child with a disability states baldly that people “hate” disabled people. “I think people can feel very uncomfortable around people with disabilities,” Sheen says. “A lot of the time it’s just to do with ignorance about, ‘Oh gosh, I don’t know, what should I do?’ It can make interaction quite awkward at times, and it can bring out people’s fears.”

The fact that there were several people with disabilities working on the project, he says, was striking because it brought home how rarely he had seen it before. It leads into a discussion of how far actors can credibly play identities they don’t personally inhabit. Sheen has thought about it: “You know, seeing people playing Welsh characters who are not Welsh, I find, it’s very hard for me to accept that. Not particularly on a point of principle, but just knowing that that’s not the case.

“That’s a very different end of the spectrum, but a part like Richard III is such a great character to play, it would be sad to think that that character, you know, is no longer available or appropriate for actors to play who don’t have disabilities, but that’s because I’m just not used to it yet, I suppose. Because I fully accept that I’m  not going to be playing Othello any time soon.

“Again, it’s not particularly a point of principle, but personally, I haven’t seen many actors who have come from quite privileged backgrounds being particularly compelling as people from working-class backgrounds. If you haven’t experienced something, you know, the extreme example is, well, if you haven’t murdered someone, can you play a murderer?”

In 2021, it was reported that Sheen intended to be a “not-for-profit” actor, after selling his own properties to ensure the Homeless World Cup that he had organised in Cardiff in 2019 went ahead when funders withdrew. So, what is a not-for-profit actor?

“There’s no such thing,” he says. “In that interview, I talked about how the ideal I was aiming towards was working like a not-for-profit company. When I put the money into the Homeless World Cup, since then I only owe money, so in terms of profits, there are no profits. I put as much of the money I make as I possibly can into either funding and supporting what other people are doing that I believe in, or starting up projects myself.” 

It’s a measure of Sheen’s confidence that he knows the parts will keep coming. He has become a father again in his 50s; he and his partner, 28-year-old Swedish actor Anna Lundberg, have two young daughters. “My knees creak a lot more,” he says. “It’s a lot harder to get up and down off the floor when you’re playing with the baby.” 

Sheen also has a grown-up daughter, Lily Mo Sheen, 24, from an earlier relationship with British actress Kate Beckinsale. “When my eldest daughter was born, I was still trying to make my way in my career and having to make harder choices about whether to work away from home and how much time to be away and all that stuff,” he says. “This time around, that’s not as difficult as I’m more established as an actor. Physically, it’s hard. But the one thing that is always the same is, you know, poo doesn’t smell any better.”

[bobthedragon]

This ask is a free ticket - I want to hear you ramble and babble about something that delights you, please. I think you're lovely.

apologies to everyone but it's time for yall to hear my story about Jack Frost u_u

so about 5 years before Rise of the Guardians came out, one of my friends, unbeknownst to me, was working with William Joyce at his new studio Moonbot. One day they messaged me and said "I have a NDA, but something I'm working on is gonna make you go nuts". I'm like "oh that's ambiguous and I wonder what dragon or monster they are getting to work on :O"

We hadn't spoken much, and we still don't talk much bc I have a tendency of being an idiot and saying the wrong things, but my dear friend had spotted that I have Issues when it comes to Spiky White Hair.

anyway, RotG comes out and I p much forgot about this until I go out to see it and instantly when I watched it I turned my head all the way across the united states to dead stare at them because I KNEW it was them somehow, they confirmed it, and now I'm Extra insane bc when I look at him, I'm like "THIS DEAD BOY WAS MADE FOR ME" and I feel the need to climb into his eyeballs against my will.

anyway I also used this knowledge later to ask my friend if Jack Frost Shits like a Bird and told them I would count their answer as word of god, and they said Yes he has a Cloaca so here you guys go. New RotG canon 11 years in the future.

bless you anon and good day to you all. u_u

[stupendouspizzacomputer]

INSANITY (Hellaverse x isekai male reader) Winners (Part 2):

•Adrian Newey (F1/Formuala 1/oscar piastri/Ferrari/Austin gp 2024)

•Black Widow (Florence Pugh)

•Haruka Sakura (Wind Breaker)

•Danny Phantom (Danny Phantom)

•Wonder (autism/neurodivergent)

•Donald Trump (Us politics/Presidential debate/United States/election/American politics/Us elections/Election day/Presidential election/2024 Presidential election)

•Joe Biden (Us politics/Presidential debate/United States/election/American politics/Us elections/Election day/Presidential election/2024 Presidential election)

•Kamala harris (Us politcs/Presidential debate/United States/election/American politics/Us elections/Election day/Presidential election/2024 Presidential election)

•Matthew Domick (nasa/space/astronomy/science/Astrology)

•Elen Musk (Science/physics)

•Beyonce (Beyonce)

•Ponyboy Curtis (The outsiders)

•Aurora (Witchcraft/Witchblr)

•Malefica (Witchcraft/Witchblr/Witch/Wicca/Witchcore)

•Bojan Cvjetićanin (Joker out)

•Kris Guštin (Joker out)

•Jan Peteh (Joker out)

•Nace Jordan (Joker out)

•Jure Maček (Joker out)

•Jannik Sinner (tennis)

•Galadriel (Rings of power/Lord of the rings/Lotr/Tolkien/The rings of power/Gigolas)

•Ranboo (Youtuber)

•The passengers of the AA 11 (9/11)

•Regan (Inside job)

•Brett (Inside job)

•Kai (Exo)

•Byun Baek-hyun (Exo)

•Suho (Exo)

•Sehun (Exo)

•Park Chan-Yeon (Exo)

•D.O. (Exo)

•Chen (Exo)

•Kris Wu (Exo)

•Huang Zitao (Exo)

•Xiumin (Exo)

•Luhan (Exo)

•Lay (Exo)

•Jere Mikael Pöyhönen (Käärijä)

•Susan Ivanova (Babylon 5)

•Alexander Gabriel Claremont-Diaz (Taylor Zakhar Perez)

•Aabria Iyengar (Critical role)

•Marisha Lay (Critical Role)

•Furbys (Furby/r/196)

•Kirie Goshima (Uzumaki)

•Nora Sakavic (All for the game)

•Owen (I saw the TV glow)

•Dark Cacao Cookie (Cookie run/Cookie run kingdom)

•Golden Cheese Cookie (Cookie run/Cookie run Kingdom)

•Chili Pepper Cookie (Cookie run/Cookie run kingdom)

•Hollyberry Cookie (Cookie run/Cookie run Kingdom)

•Pure Vanilla Cookie (Cookie run/Cookie run Kingdom)

•Stardust Cookie (Cookie run/Cookie run Kingdom)

•White Lily Cookie (Cookie run/Cookie run Kingdom)

•Crimson Coral Cookie (Cookie run/Cookie run Kingdom)

•Elder Faerie Cookie (Cookie run/Cookie run Kingdom)

•Moonlight Cookie (Cookie run/Cookie run Kingdom)

•Mystic Flour Cookie (Cookie run/Cookie run Kingdom)

•Stormbringer Cookie (Cookie run/Cookie run Kingdom)

•Wind Archer Cookie (Cookie run/Cookie run Kingdom)

•Angel Cookie (Cookie run/ Cookie run Kingdom)

•Black Pearl Cookie (Cookie run/Cookie run Kingdom)

•Frost Queen Cookie (Cookie run/Cookie run Kingdom)

•Pitaya Dragon Cookie(Cookie run/Cookie run Kingdom)

•Sea Fairy Cookie (Cookie run/Cookie run Kingdom)

•Sherbet Cookie (Cookie run/Cookie run Kingdom)

•Fox Mulder (Txf/The x Files)

•Dana Scully (Txf/The x Files/Gillian Anderson)

•Agatha Harkness (Agatha all along/Kathryn Hahn/Agathario/Disney)

•Haruspex (pathologic)

•John (Outer banks)

•Jack O'Malley (Chris evans)

•Cady Haron (Mean Girls/Lindsay Lohan/october/october 3rd/october 3)

•Areala of Cordoba (Warrior Nun)

•Stede Bonnet (Ofmd/Our Flag means Death)

•Liam Gallagher (Oasis)

•Noel Gallagher (Oasis)

•Paul Arthurs (Oasis)

•Tony McCarroll (Oasis)

•Gem Archer (Oasis)

•Andy Bell (Oasis)

•Chris Sharrock (Oasis)

•Paul McGuigan (Oasis)

•Alan White (Oasis)

•Evgeni Malkin (Pittsburgh penguins)

•Kate McKinnon (snl)

•Travis Kelce (Kansas City Chiefs)

•Keith (Voltron/vld)

•Shiro (Voltron/vld)

•Pidge (Voltron/vld)

•Lance (Voltron/vld)

•Hunk (Voltron/vld)

•Princess Allura (Voltron/vld)

•Vex'ahlia Vessar (Vox Machina/Critical Role/Dimension 20/Misfits and Magic)

•Vax'ildan Vessar (Vox Machina/Critical Role/Dimension 20/Misfits and Magic)

•Percival de Rolo (Vox Machina/Critical Role/Dimension 20/Misfits and Magic)

•Pike Trickfoot (Vox Machina/Critical Role/Dimension 20/Misfits and Magic)

•Keyleth of the Air Ashari (Vox Machina/Critical Role/Dimension 20/Misfits and Magic)

•Scanlan Shorthalt (Vox Machina/Critical Role/Dimension 20/Misfits and Magic)

•Grog Strongjaw (Vox Machina/Critical Role/Dimension 20/Misfits and Magic)

•Alice Oseman (Heartstopper)

•Al Pacino (60s/Cinema)

•King Arthur (Merlin)

•Merlin (Merlin)

•Goodtimeswithscar (Trafficblr/Traffic smp/mineblr/Solidaritygaming/Wild life smp)

•Grian (Trafficblr/Traffic smp/mineblr/Solidaritygaming/Wild life smp)

•Mumbo Jumbo (Trafficblr/Traffic smp/mineblr/Solidaritygaming/Wild life smp)

•Skizzleman (Trafficblr/Traffic smp/mineblr/Solidaritygaming/Wild life smp)

•Bdoubleo100 (Trafficblr/Traffic smp/mineblr/Solidaritygaming/Wild life smp)

•Tangotek (Trafficblr/Traffic smp/mineblr/Solidaritygaming/Wild life smp)

•Florence Welch (Florence and the Machine)

•Isabella Summers (Florence and the Machine)

•Robert Ackryod (Florence and the Machine)

•Hazel Mills (Florence and the Machine)

•Tom Monger (Florence and the Machine)

•Loren Humphrey (Florence and the Machine)

•Tom Moth (Florence and the Machine)

•Aku Orraca-Tetteh (Florence and the Machine)

•Cyrus Bayandor (Florence and the Machine)

•Dionne Douglas (Florence and the Machine)

•Chris Hayden (Florence and the Machine)

•Mark Saunders (Florence and the Machine)

•Rusty Bradshaw (Florence and the Machine)

•Samantha White (Florence and the Machine)

•Roz (The wild robot)

•Hayley Williams (Paramore)

•Ichigo kurosaki (bleach)

•Bjork (Bjork)

•Sparkle (Honkaistairrail/Hsr/DATENROUTE)

•Historia (Attack on Titan)

•Shajar (Riseofkingdoms/Egypt/History/Didyouknow)

[safyresky]

17. Can they fall asleep anywhere? Or do they need an optimum condition to sleep in? (For any or as many!)

Thank you!!!! Any or as many. HMMM. I am going to Legate the SHIT out of this >:D

Jacqueline can sleep anywhere so long as it's A) freezing cold and B) there are a plethora of blankets for her to get COZY and WARM and SNUGGLY. She is going to burrito and she is going to be SO cozy cold

Dite doesn't usually sleep! But when she does as long as the mattress is firm and she ISN'T sinking into it she's good. Bonus if cuddly burrito blanket gf is there!

Xander doesn't sleep. But when he does. Even though he doesn't! He can sleep ANYWHERE. SANDMAN SMARTS.

Blossom is a big ol' ?????? Does she even sleep, or is she simply like the energizer bunny, and always going going going? who's to say!

Myles can (and has!) slept anywhere. Probz has a favourite pillow that he will take with him if he knows he's not sleeping in his own bed! I also think he has a teddy bear that he will always sleep with/keep near by bc he feels bad for it, and when he watched Toy Story this only got WORSE.

It had the same effect on Olivia lol, both of them have a LOT of stuffies and such and they do NOT want them to be sad! Olivia can sleep anywhere as well, so long as it's soft. Probably also sleeps better with running water somewhere, given her work as a healer has her at the Springs a lot :)

Day and Night's preferred sleep condition is time void. If they are in the void they are sleeping fine. If they are OUTSIDE of the void, they are Not Sleeping, no sirree!

Spring likes squishy surfaces for sure! And HAS to be surrounded by flowers. She also gives me "sleeps with a diffuser going" vibes, lol. She LOVES sleeping on rainy nights. She cracks the windows open, bundles up, and listens to the rain 🥰🥰🥰 v big on ambient noise around her--canNOT sleep in absolute silence at ALL

Bonus: The OTHER seasons!

Summer can sleep anywhere! Likes open windows. Favourite sleeping nights are THUNDER STORMS. Only uses a sheet. It gets kicked off by morning.

Autumn also likes a chillier sleep! Also enjoys rainy nights! Cuddles with animals when she sleeps (this is optional, but 6/7 nights in the week, there's probably an animal nearby that is hanging out with her that Will Cuddle)

Winter is like Jacqueline! She likes to be very cold so she can bundle and ideally cuddle up alongside her summer sprite of a partner without melting (which is a valid concern some times, given she can't even keep a freeze dry OR snow blow in her hair when Blaise is nearby!)

BONUS bonus: The rest of the Frosts!

Blaise overheats so fucking fast frfr. If he is not able to hold his walking AC unit of a partner throughout the night he will wake up way too hot and that's just uncomfortable! Frost Manor has the windows open for most of the year, lol

Fino prefers sleeping on an object made for sleeping but can make do without. Likes having the blankets but will kick them off in his sleep. Has on occasion woken up on the floor perplexed. Sleeps 100x better when his twin is nearby. Doesn't mind overheating but prefers not to.

Fiera can sleep anywhere and WILL sleep anywhere! Sleeps 100x better when her Twin is nearby. As an adult, she crashes on people's couches ALL THE TIME! Kicks blankets right off of her and onto the floor. Sometimes wakes up hugging pillows. NASTY bedhead most mornings. Drools. Likes to overheat.

(Fins and Fi will on occasion get into a silent "open the window a crack" battle. It is very passive aggressive and VERY sneaky! Often don't notice when the other closes/opens the window. These lil battles can rage on for days at a time)

Now Jack ISN'T an OC but I desperately need to inflict this image on other people so:

PAMPERS himself

silk sheets. humidifier. sleep mask. the BEST pyjamas. ice cold drink on his bedside table at ALL TIMES.

probably has some fancy snack for the morning laid out somewhere lmao.

weighted blanket, HIGH thread count, you THINK of a fancy sleep thing Jack 100% has it and most deffs uses it.

Probably does like an overnight facemask or something on occasion TOO, lol

[fandom-space-princess]

In Dulci Jubilo

Fandom: Supernatural Rating: Gen Length: 7.1k Pairings: Michael/Adam Milligan Characters: Michael, Adam Milligan, Gabriel, Raphael, Lucifer, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel, Jack Kline Tags: other implied relationships (brief), dean/castiel, sam/gabriel, sam/lucifer, nobody is dead! everybody lives!, holiday fic, half character study half domestic vignette Summary:

It was a compliment, dear one. I wish only for my Brothers to see the mercy of you. For them to see our peace. ----- Invited to a holiday dinner, Adam and Michael explain to each of their siblings their choice to return to each other.

-----------------------------------------

For the Midam Holiday Exchange, a gift for @hectatess!

(Set in the same universe as "The Game of Us" and "None But Shining Hours," but you absolutely do not have to have read those to read this.)

Read below, or on AO3.

------------------------------------- 

Once, I would have led the chorus of Heaven in your name. Imagine it: every voice in the Host, raised in celebration of you! For the fact of your fit to me, exultation would have been your due; your refrain, a rallying cry. A battle hymn.   

“So they’d have known me? You’d have... what? Introduced me?” 

… after a fashion.  

“Come on, bud. Spit it out.” 

Understand: we were family, yes—of a kind—but second. A distant second. First, in all things, we were shared obligation. Our bonds were fealty; our cause, war. Armies are made to glory, true, but only in swords and generals. I’d have introduced you as—as what you were to be. And your name, in their ears—in my ears—would have sounded no sweeter than your body would have felt, in my hands, as a weapon.   

Silence, for a time. Then: 

“You gave that up, though. Dean was your sword or whatever. Not me. I’m just... me.” 

Indeed. 

A shrug. 

“So do you still wanna...” Adam tugged at a loose thread on his cuff, thinking. “I mean, you’re the one who wants to do the family thing. What exactly do you want them to look at me and see?” 

Beloved, if you are a blade, you are a broken one.  

“Hey!” 

The impression of a chuckle, a fleeting fizzle of nerves.  

It was a compliment, dear one. I wish only for my Brothers to see the mercy of you. For them to see our peace.  

“Because I’d make a crappy sword?” 

That, too.  

------------------------------------- 

[An hour before dinner, late in December:]  

With the sunset, wet, fluffy snow had begun to fall on the city of Lawrence. They didn’t need to drive through it to reach the bunker. They did not, strictly speaking, need to drive anywhere—ever. But Michael enjoyed the nod to normalcy on Adam’s behalf; enjoyed the idea that he might still be able to be, at least this much, a human. That he might move between destinations on foot, or by car, feeling the passage of distance and of time. That holiday dinners with a family unit might be desirable, pleasant, or at least tolerable, in the multitudinous complicated ways of human relationships. 

True, too: some things he enjoyed for himself. That the cold air and exertion from the walk might cast Adam’s cheeks in pink. That snowflakes might settle along his eyelashes, dust his hat and shoulders in downy white and remind Michael, for a moment, of down of other kinds.  

“You’re getting more sentimental by the minute. I can tell. You’re doing that thing with your shoulders.” 

I know.  

The car they had abandoned half a mile back, edged up onto the roadside under scraggling trees already limned in frost. Doubled tracks led back the way they’d come; the snow crunched underfoot. No moon or starlight lit this part of the road, and past the outskirts of town the streetlights had petered out rapidly. Yet Adam was unbothered. For all that Michael tried to encourage him to keep hold of what little of his humanity remained, his eyesight was still far better than it had ever been in his first life. It wasn’t comparable to when Michael had actively possessed him, but—well. Some things would never entirely reset. The limits of human reflexes, human senses—even human mortality—were all less well-defined than they’d once been.  

Michael, of course, could always see in the dark.  

Around a curve in the road, and the bunker loomed up in front of them, upper stories vanishing into the swirling snow. No wind, and clouds in abundance; for winter in Kansas, the night was almost warm. Packing snow, Adam mused. Memories of snowmen, of snowball fights and sledding on pilfered lunchtrays down the big hill behind his middle school. He thought: if the night takes a turn and the mood needs salvaging, they could always come back outside for a while. Work on Michael’s first snowman, maybe. Remind each other how to laugh. 

What are you smiling at?  

Michael had stopped to wait near the bottom of the short flight of stairs leading to the bunker’s front door. Adam caught up the two steps he’d fallen behind. “Not much. Thinking about putting snow down Dean’s jacket later,” he replied. “And can you—y'know, out loud?” He gestured vaguely between them. “Just while we’re here.”  

Not their usual preference, regardless of the distance between them or lack thereof, but in the company of others speaking aloud was... not easier, precisely, but markedly less of an invitation to prying questions. 

Michael nodded. “Of course.”  

Adam turned to face the door, considering it. A breath whuffed out of him, vapor ghosting away into the night. He pulled Michael’s hand into his. “We’re doing this?” 

Another nod. “We are.” 

His other hand found the doorknob, and without bothering to knock, they let themselves in. 

----------[ Jack ]---------- 

Michael hadn’t had to inform Jack about how things lie between himself and Adam, once he had resettled in the world. Jack had already known.  

It had been a secondary impetus for his resurrection, apparently. The primary one—that a universe-sans-archangels was destined for an imminent and messy collapse—notwithstanding, if the young godling had felt his predecessors fundamentally untrustworthy, the matter would have been settled before it began. And yet, inexplicably, Jack had trusted him. He had allowed him to return to life, had allowed him to come and go from Heaven as he desired; had extended to him a place in the rebuilding of it. In the boy’s position, Michael couldn’t say he’d have been as forgiving.  

“Why?” he’d asked Jack, once, flying wing to shining wing.  

They’d both tucked their physical forms away in a plane a few degrees to the left of the ethereal. Together they’d glided along the undergirding of an older corner of Heaven, inspecting it for structural damage, patching what they found as they went along with grace and will. 

In angelic form, his nephew-god had no eyes. Which was to say that his eyes, like Michael’s own, were legion. Which was to say—that he saw everything, always, and understood what he saw. Often, he understood what he was seeing better than that which was being seen understood itself.  

And with a child’s delight, he loved it all.  

“When I told Adam about you, and about Chuck, and everything,” Jack had said, grinning to himself, running a wing along a strut, “he got so quiet. I didn’t know if I said it right. Cas said that I did, later, when I told him. But anyway... He sat for a minute, and then he asked me if I’d let you come back, too. He was so sure.” 

Michael curled a wingtip up to cover a wide crack. Under the attention, the crack knit back together. Slowly, at first. Then Jack added his own wing, and the surface-that-wasn't above them smoothed out. Healed. Whole. 

“I think it was the first time I ever saw a person that sure about anything that didn’t feel like it came with regret already built in.” Jack tumbled up at him, whirling, winking, playful. It caught Michael off-guard, at times, how alike Jack could be to a much, much younger Lucifer. Shine and certainty and sadness; authority, affection, willfulness. He reacted on reflex, skirling away, a momentary game of tag in a place-that-wasn't, with space enough to be alone forever, to run and never catch one another.  

He let Jack catch him. He had always let Heylel win, too. 

“And do you? Regret this?” 

“No,” Jack laughed. In a nearby dimension, something young and green bloomed at the sound. “And he doesn’t either. I know.” 

----------[ Sam ]---------- 

When Adam was finally forced to spell it out for Sam, it... had not gone great. 

"I don’t get what’s confusing about this,” Adam ground out, into the strained silence on the other end of the phone. He took a deep breath through his nose. Deliberately measured his words. “Michael and I are a package deal. Again. Still. You feel weird about that, I—” 

Sam’s voice was equal parts frustration and concern. “Adam, he—you know he went back to Chuck—” 

“Yeah. Yep. That sucked for everybody. And he worked it out with Jack.” 

“—he hurt us both, used you—” 

“—I really don’t think you have any—” 

“—he sold us out!” 

“ Cope.” Adam’s temper got the better of him. “Look, thanks for calling. I don’t think I really do holidays anymore, but the invitation is appreciated or whatever. If you want to talk to me or Michael, you know how to contact us both.” As though aware of his place in the conversation, he felt Michael chime a question at the edge of his attention. He’d been busy in the kitchen, but Adam knew that if he didn’t lower his voice, Michael would join him on the couch, and the phone call would venture into new and exciting dimensions of annoyance. 

From the other end of the line, there were the sounds of a scuffle, and muted grumbling. Someone dropped the phone.  

“... hey, shortstack. That you?” 

Ah. Great. “Nope. Bought this number on the black market.”  

Gabriel’s grin was audible through the phone. “Giving Sammy a hard time? Never would have suspected it of you.” 

“I’m not giving him the time of day. He’s the one who can’t deal.” 

“Don’t know why he’s got so much sand in his shorts about you and Mikey. The big hypocrite.” Her voice was fond. 

His stomach did something complicated that wouldn’t have been out of place at a gymnastics tournament. “He. I. Uh. He told you. About.” 

“You know, I see what he sees in you. It’s your eloquence.” She laughed again. He hadn’t known her, before. He had only known her in this new incarnation; in the After that they were all navigating, now. But she seemed to be constantly laughing. He got the impression that she was making up for lost time. “Anywho. Big Bro did clue me in, in a manner of speaking. Family deals with family.” She paused. “That goes for you, too, by the by. We’ve been dutifully keeping your big news from Samshine here, obviously” — the scuffling sounds resumed, briefly; Adam got the distinct impression that Sam had just been sat on — “but you still get the joy of informing Deano, since Cassie isn’t squawking either. Nobody is.” 

What sounded like muffled cursing, and the beep of keys being pressed. Gabriel’s voice came from far off: “Come to dinner, though! I wanna bug Mi—” 

The line went dead. 

----------[ Gabriel ]---------- 

In many respects, Gabriel had been the easiest place to start. If they were all to live this life anew, Michael wanted—more than most anything else—to do right by the three beings in the universe he had previously done so badly wrong. Among other things, that meant sharing this new part of himself with them. Gabriel had delivered messages, once. She had been charged with heralding momentous change, personal upheavals, the remaking of nations. 

Was this so different? Surely, surely she would understand. 

He found her on Earth. It wasn’t hard, once he went looking. What surprised him was where he found her: in a café on the outskirts of Lawrence, idly prodding the pile of foam atop a truly enormous latte with a wooden stir stick. He watched her for a handful of minutes from afar, as she alternately poked the touchscreen of a phone like the one Adam had, and shot furtive glances over the counter at the barista. 

“You just gonna stand there all day and take in the ambience?” she called over to him, eventually. She turned her head to meet his gaze, with a grin that showed every one of her too-sharp teeth.  

He took the chair opposite her. She clicked a drink into existence in front of him which bore a striking similarity to her own. Cautiously, he sniffed it. Caramelized sugars and the acrid tang of caffeine in abundance; the cloying, sweet-sour smell of steamed milk. Michael gave the drink a stern glare. It immediately and politely became a small paper cup of something that smelled of herbs and smoke, and which looked almost, but not quite, like coffee. Gabriel rolled her eyes, but let it be.  

“So,” she started, chewing on the end of the stir stick. “How’s tricks?” 

“You always choose your words so well, Sister.” 

“Don’t I, though?” 

“Mmm.” He found himself leaning across the table, not into her space exactly, but in a companionably human closeness. To his delight, he realized she was mirroring the posture. Whether this had been a conscious choice for her, it wasn’t for him, and a warm feeling spread through his limbs at the realization. This body was still new, made for him and him alone, and it had pleased him that his comfort with it grew by the day. “I am well, since you ask. I wanted to talk to you.” 

“You know? Think I got that.” Her gaze wandered over his shoulder for a moment, then snapped back to his face. “Heard you’ve been keeping Jack and Cassie company as your new primary hobby. Fixing up the old digs. Which—just saying—a little manual labor looks good on you.” 

She reached out to poke his shoulder with one long, white-tipped fingernail. Adam had told him that his own vessel didn’t register as obviously odd or inhuman in any way that he could discern—which made sense. Michael’s vessel was human, insofar as it went, although it housed no human soul; it had been crafted for him, in the days of the first humans, that he might walk the Earth among them. Gabriel’s vessel, though... she had resurrected, by choice, into an only partially human one. The glamor she wore to move through the world warded off alarm from all but the most psychically sensitive humans. But he had seen her without it, seen her eyes go from human hazel to serpent-slitted gold, seen her freckles morph to scales and her nails extend to dainty claws.  

When he had asked why, she simply shrugged, and told him that she was trying something new.  

He thought, perhaps, that they both were. 

Michael raised a shoulder, a gesture he briefly wondered if he’d picked up from Adam. “I’ve been enjoying the work. That isn’t what I wanted to discuss, however. I wanted to let you know—” 

“—that you’ve gone back to shacking up with your boytoy?” 

His eyes widened. “Castiel told you.” 

“Nah, Cassie didn’t have to. I just know you. What, you were going to get back to the world and not go straight back to the only person who’s helped you get your head on straight in millennia?” 

“I think it’s a bit more—” 

“It really isn’t,” she replied firmly. Her eyes strayed behind him again, for the length of a blink. “Look, I’m not judging you. What do you think I’m doing here?” 

Michael sneaked a glance over his shoulder. “What has that man done to earn your attention?” 

“The coffee guy? He just tells good stories.” She shook her hair out of her face, then raised her cup and drained it. “Sam’s taken a shine to him. They’re friends. The kid’s waiting on some big news about a couple scholarships. So I’ve been pulling a lever here, putting in a good word there. He’s gonna get a heck of a present under his tree this year.” 

He studied her more closely, then. “You’ve been staying with Samuel Winchester.” 

“What can I say? I like him. He’s decent company.” Gabriel laughed again, and finally stood. Her skirt trickled over her knees, swirled around her ankles, and her ash-white ringlets pooled over her shoulders, in constant motion even when she was still. She extended a hand, and he took it; she helped him stand. And unexpectedly pulled him into a hug.  

There had been a time when he would not have known how to hug back. Now, he wrapped her in his arms. Felt her sturdiness and her strength, the surety of her presence.  

“We both deserve this, Michael,” she said, chin on his shoulder. She squeezed him fiercely. “We can choose for ourselves what we want. Isn’t that great? Isn’t it fucking terrifying?” 

“It is,” he said, and meant it. 

----------[ Raphael ]---------- 

To tell Raphael anything, Michael first had to go and find them. He told himself that his nervousness about approaching them was only this: that they had, at Jack’s request, chosen to remain in the Empty. Not as dead and dreaming sleeper, no, but as steward and caretaker. Michael walked the sunless path leading to their domain, and listened to the skitter of gravel beneath his feet, the rustle of leaves and the murmur of the faraway sea. As this place was shaped by the will of its inhabitants, he was unsurprised that the environs surrounding Raphael’s home would have retained the character of the forest. Unbothered by anything resembling human civilization—in Michael’s experience, nature, or a facsimile of it, was where Raphael had seemed most at home. 

Their front gate was tall, and wrought of bone in intricate curlicues. It opened soundlessly under the brush of his hand.  

“Welcome back, Brother,” came a stone-dry voice, a climbing-vines and crumbling-walls voice.  

Michael stepped forward, into a garden.  

In truth, “garden” hardly did justice to the space. In the darkest heart of the land of the dead, Heaven’s healer had called forth life. The bower was enclosed not in walls, but fences, which extended mazelike in all directions. These—and many other surfaces—were overgrown with thick-creeping ivy, lush and lustrous. The maze was equally composed of stands of ancient trees: spreading willow and fragrant olive, cedar and pine and birch. He moved among the trunks and leaves until, at the shore of a central pond dotted in lilies, he found Raphael, seated on a low stone bench. His sibling scooted to one side, and Michael sat beside them. 

“And I thought you’d seen enough of this place,” they began. Like Gabriel, they had chosen a form almost, but not quite, human; in Raphael’s case, a hamadryad. They extended one bare foot out to the edge of the pond, rippling the water there, and the skin along the arch darkened with the moisture like the bark of an oak in rain. Though their complexion was as deep brown as Michael’s own, it was a color undertoned with the suggestion of green—of sap, of spring. Where Michael had thick twisting curls, Raphael’s head was crowned by ivy. As he watched, it snaked over their shoulders, along their biceps, twining slowly but inexorably downward. 

“I certainly have,” he returned. “I have not seen enough of you.” 

“No?” 

“No.” 

They turned their eyes to him, then, black and bottomless and kind. “Well, you’re here, and so am I. What would you have of me?” 

He took a deep breath. Breathing was unnecessary, especially here. He exhaled, then inhaled once more, regardless. 

“I came to see how you were settling into your new duties,” he said, “and tell you of my own. And—tell you other things.” 

“My duties go well enough. The dreamers sleep more soundly, with me near. I caretake what needs caretaking.” Raphael brought up a palm. In their hand they called a flower into being, spinning it out of silvery air: a dandelion, late in life, in full feather. They blew on it, and watched the seeds drift out across the water.  

Then they smiled to themself, a little, chin turned down and eyes on the rippling water. “I like to watch the vines grow.” 

He gently nudged them with his shoulder. “You deserve that. It does me good to see you here, like this.”  

Raphael shook their head, still smiling. “And your own work? The dreams—the Heaven they show is more whole by the day.” 

“It goes well. I find that repairing broken things suits me.” 

When he did not continue, they glanced at him. “And yet you... have not resumed your post. Our nephew doesn’t ask you to his side.” It wasn’t a question.  

He returned their glance sheepishly. 

“Ah,” they said, after a moment. 

There was a protracted silence. 

At last, their face performed a complicated press of lips and scrunching of eyebrows. Michael watched them, apprehensive.  

“Would you ever have considered coming back for me? To me?” they finally asked. Nothing in their voice suggested anger or sadness, but Michael thought there was something subtler there, or many somethings: resignation, compassion, perhaps mirth. He thought he understood what it meant for them, to feel free to ask such a question; was surprised to find himself proud, that they had come so far in their own healing. 

“Honestly?” 

“I don’t want anything else.” 

“I... don’t know. Truly. As I was?” He shifted in his seat. “I doubt it.” 

Raphael’s brow smoothed out. They watched Michael fidget for a moment, then laid their palm across the back of his hand. He stilled. “You’re here now,” they said. “And you’re there with him. You’ll keep being there, for him.” 

Whatever tension had been between them evaporated. Michael leaned back on the heels of his hands, smiling to himself. 

“I think being a little bit human suits you,” Raphael said. 

------------------------------------- 

[Half an hour before dinner:]  

Once inside, the bunker proved to be far more prepared for festivity than its exterior had suggested. Strings of lights lined the walls and stairs, and the large map table Adam remembered had been pushed aside in favor of filling the common area with an assortment of more comfortable seating. Sam and Raphael sat on opposite ends of a sagging, overstuffed couch, Sam tapping his hands on his knees, Raphael cradling a glass of some deep burgundy liquid between their palms. They had evidently taken a page from Gabriel’s book: the subtle magic they wore reshaped their face and limbs into a more human aspect. When they saw Adam and Michael descending the stairs, they hid a small smile behind the rim of their glass.  

Sam rose, stumbling a little as he did so, and moved toward them. “Adam,” he said. He extended a hand, glanced behind Adam at Michael, and faltered.  

“Sam,” Adam nodded back, and waved him off. He wasn’t sure whether his half-brother looked disappointed, or relieved. He looked past Sam’s shoulder. “Hey, Raphael.”  

Raphael raised their glass in a subtle greeting. “I'm glad you’ve come.” The words were for Michael, but they directed them at Adam, with a raised eyebrow.  

“Well, you know. Michael insisted,” he replied, staring at Sam. To his credit, Sam immediately looked apologetic. Before the awkwardness of the moment could deepen, it was interrupted by a thump from behind them. Gabriel strode out of the library, arms laden with garlands, trailed by Jack and Castiel.  

“Adam! Mikey!” she called, dropping the pile of ivy and mistletoe in a corner. “You made it!”  

Michael stepped around Adam, and pulled Gabriel into a brief hug. When they separated, Castiel offered a warm smile and clasping handshake. Jack had seated himself on the floor, partially ensnared by strands of ivy, and Michael settled next to him and began the patient process of untangling him. 

Beside him, Sam exhaled audibly.  

“Adam, I,” he started. Stopped. Started again. “I’m glad you’re here.” 

Adam looked at him from the corners of his eyes. “Are we good?” 

Just then, Lucifer’s head and shoulders appeared around the edge of the kitchen door. The smell of cooking drifted out around him. He called for Raphael. Sam watched them step carefully around Jack and Michael on their way to the kitchen. Michael’s head turned to watch them leave, too, and he smiled up at Adam before returning his attention to Jack.  

“Yeah,” Sam said quietly, looking not at Adam but at the pair on the floor. “We’re good.” 

----------[ Lucifer ]---------- 

Michael saved the hardest for last. In multiple senses. 

Simply finding Lucifer was something of an ordeal. Wherever he was supposed to be—and Michael was unsure of that, hadn’t communicated with him more than in passing since returning to life—it wasn’t anywhere obvious to him. Heaven was out; Raphael didn’t know; and when he had tried asking Gabriel, she had simply shaken her head and replied that it wasn’t her place to say. This implied that she did know, and that puzzled him, but he did not push her. Instead, he had returned to Jack. 

If anyone could find the Lightbringer, it would be his child. 

So it came that he found Lucifer in the very last place he would have supposed: the basement lounge of a seedy back-alley bar.  

From up in the corner of the stage, a graying man plunked out a melody on an out-of-tune piano. With his back to the door, Michael almost missed Lucifer, at first. But when the song ended, his head picked up, and his eyes caught the stage light: retinal reflection that shone, not human red, but owlish bronze. He did not turn to acknowledge Michael, gaze fixed on the old musician’s bows, but under the bar he held a palm open in his direction, and subtly beckoned him over.  

Michael slid into the chair next to him. The basement was humid, and both the bar top and plastic seat were unpleasantly tacky in the close heat. Lucifer waved a hand, and after a moment the bartender slid two identical drinks in their direction. Michael took one. It smelled sweet, a little smoky, and a twist of orange rind circled a bright red cherry under the oily liquid surface.  

Lucifer sipped his, grimaced, and sipped it again.  

“So. To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“I wanted to catch up,” Michael said, lightly. “Though I admit that this did not head the list of places I expected to find you.” 

“I wonder where you expected me to be?” 

Michael shook his head. “Simply... not here.”  

“Disappointed?” Lucifer pushed the ice determinedly around the bottom of his glass with the straw. He watched Michael as he did it. He seemed to be waiting for something, and Michael got the impression that it wasn’t him—whatever it was. 

“No.”  

“Well, I am.” 

“Why are you here, then?” 

“Killing time.” 

“Until?” 

“Until I decide I’m done,” Lucifer shrugged. At Michael’s raised eyebrow, he sighed. “Fine. I’m shirking my responsibilities, such as they are. They’ll keep. I wanted to sit for a moment and not be bothered. Satisfied?” 

“I didn’t...” Michael sighed. Pinched the bridge of his nose. “ ‘Hello, Michael, it’s good to see you too. It pleases me to know that Earthly life is treating you well.’ There, I’ve gotten everything I wanted from our conversation. This has been approximately as pleasant as anticipated. Enjoy your idling.”  

He made to stand, feeling irritated and, irrationally, impatient with himself for his irritation. But a hand landed on his forearm. Lucifer looked back at him from under quirked eyebrows, mouth set in a curious frown.  

Rather than pull him back down to his seat, his brother pushed his unsatisfying drink away, and rose as well. 

“Come on,” Lucifer said. “Let’s walk.” 

They ascended a different flight of stairs than the one Michael had taken on entrance, and exited the bar out a creaking metal door that opened onto an alley. “Are we walking in any direction in particular?” 

A nod. “Can’t shirk everything. Gotta check in.” He offered no elaboration, but Michael fell into step beside him anyway.  

What exactly Lucifer needed to check in on, Michael could not begin to guess. But, apart from his curiosity, he was determined to see what he deemed relevant enough to show him. He slid his hands into the pockets of his jacket as he walked. Beside him, without looking, Lucifer did the same. It did not often occur to Michael to wonder what humans saw when they looked at him, but he thought about it now: two men emerging from the darkness between buildings, matched in height and build but otherwise, in many ways, as opposite as humans could be. Lucifer, starlight etched in mortal form, all but glowing under the streetlights, golden eyes and golden curls that haloed him as effectively as his own grace would have—and Michael, a shadow cut loose from the night, as earth-made as the first of the men he had been commanded to revere.  

But here they were, side by side, identical in posture and bearing; no physical bodies could camouflage the way they carried themselves. Their heads unbowed and spines unbent. Adam had once told him that he walked as though his feet had never touched the ground.  

Looking at his twin, he could see it. 

Their way led them along side streets and byways. Across patches of crumbling city sidewalk; through an unused parking lot, dark and crusted near the edges with broken bits of concrete barriers; and, after several minutes of walking, around the back of a monolithic warehouse. A lightless dead-end alley and a brick wall greeted them. Nothing Michael could see that would deserve his Brother’s attention, or the practiced indifference with which he turned to face the brickwork.  

The place was humming with power, though. Pitched below the background noise of the physical world—psychic potential. 

Lucifer reached out a hand, carelessly, and sketched a sigil in the air before the wall. Light crept through the cracks in the grout. A moment more, and the glow coalesced into a portal, round, an armspan in diameter. Nothing but light came through, but as they stood watching, the light dimmed, then brightened, then dimmed again. This was, apparently, expected: while he gave no verbal reply, Lucifer nodded, with the impression of giving confirmation, or assent. Another ebb and flow of light, and then the portal receded as swiftly as it had appeared. 

In the darkness that replaced it, Michael studied Lucifer, the close, hunched lines of his shoulders. 

“Of all the tasks you could set yourself,” he began, watching Lucifer’s face carefully, “choosing involvement with Purgatory surprises me more than any other. What prompted such a thing?” 

His Brother gave a noncommittal slump of one shoulder. “It’s what I’m doing right now.” 

“For what purpose?” 

“Just... can’t sit still, I guess.” They turned their backs on the brick wall, and exited the alley. Lucifer turned left out onto the sidewalk, and Michael followed. Walking without aim, now. 

“Then why are you here on Earth at all?” 

Lucifer sent a stone skittering far up the path ahead of him with the toe of his boot, and watched it roll to a stop. “Gabriel,” he said, by way of explanation. Another shrug. Then, more softly: “Sam.” 

In profile, his expression was difficult for Michael to discern. “Gabriel implied she’d seen you. You’ve... also been staying with them?” 

“Occasionally.” Passing under streetlights between pools of darkness, shadows crawled across his face like clouds. “Sometimes. Yes.” 

He’d known his Brother long enough and well enough, at least, to know when he didn’t want to continue a line of conversation. Michael decided on another approach. “Why Purgatory, then, intermittently or otherwise?” 

Lucifer scoffed. “Have you seen that place? If you think da— Chuck left Heaven a mess...” 

“Why should that bother you?” He avoided mentioning the small slip in words, the sour look that had flickered across Lucifer’s face when he’d said it. “I would not have expected sympathy for the impure. Not from you. Forgive me, that isn’t intended as a slight. Merely an observation.” 

The look Lucifer gave him was caught between narrow-eyed distaste and something more thoughtful. “Those creatures can’t help but be what they are. They aren’t like the demons.” The word came out sounding almost normal, with little of his usual scorn. He wouldn’t meet Michael’s eyes.  

“Someone owes responsibility to the realm. Jack suggested I might have something of value to offer it.” At his son’s name, a flash of the pride Michael remembered so well passed over him. Then it was gone, his face smoothing. Lucifer glanced back at him. “Maybe I’m just eager to follow your lead. Jack says you’ve been busy. Helping out in Heaven?” 

Michael returned his earlier shrug. With deliberate casualness, he said: “Sometimes, yes.” 

“But you’re here now.” 

“Yes. I’m on Earth now. I... live here. As strange as that is to say.” 

Lucifer stared. “All the time?” 

He took a steadying breath. “Well. With Adam.” 

Abruptly, Lucifer threw back his head, startling Michael. A full-body laugh shook him from shoulders to heels. The sound echoed away up the empty street into a ghostly chorus, a reverberant cacophony. Then, to his amazement, Lucifer grasped a hand on his shoulder, hard but companionable. When the laughter passed, he stepped away, but rather than retreating entirely, Lucifer slid his arm around Michael’s shoulders. They set off down the street once again, this time knocking together in an astonishingly human closeness. 

“Are you happy? You seem like you’re happy.” Lucifer asked. He ruffled his fingers through Michael’s hair.  

For his trouble, Michael elbowed him in the ribs, and he fell back with a muttered oof and a grin.  

“I am,” Michael answered. 

There came a muted buzz. From his left jacket pocket, Lucifer extracted a phone, the glow of the screen reflected in his eyes. He gave it a slantways half-smile. “Do you ever have regrets? About... any of it?” 

Michael watched the movement of his fingertips over the screen, and didn’t need to ask what he meant.  

“I have many regrets,” he replied, hand closing over top of the phone—over top of Lucifer’s own. “Where I am now is not among them.” 

Lucifer gave a small nod. He slid the phone back into his pocket.  

“Is where you are now among your regrets?” Michael asked.  

Another laugh, this one quieter. Lucifer looked away, then back at Michael; he grinned. Then he was gone, the stir of wings raising a breeze, the only mark of his sudden absence.  

Michael smiled to himself, and then he, too, left the empty street behind. 

----------[ Dean ]---------- 

Several days had passed, and Sam’s phone call had all but slipped his mind, when Dean appeared at Adam’s door. Considering that Adam (intentionally) had not told his half-brothers where he lived, this came as a surprise. 

Two terse knocks and a muffled, “open up, kid, special delivery,” were all the warning he received before his living room abruptly contained two more bodies than usual. Michael had let them in. Adam shot a withering glare his way, but Michael ignored it. He was too preoccupied with Gabriel, who flopped down dramatically the moment she was through the doorway. Only once she was horizontal, legs kicked up over the back of the couch and heels knocking smudges into the wall, did she toe off her shoes and allow them to fall past her head and onto the floor.  

“What are you, twelve?” Dean asked down at her with a smirk, as Michael collected her shoes and placed them neatly near the door.  

Her hair fanned out behind her head, cascading off the edge of the cushions. Upside-down, she winked at him. “Why, you planning to put me in time out? 

Dean snickered, and even Michael chuckled. Adam rolled his eyes at them. “Yeah, hey, hi and all, glad to see you, but uh... what? Why?” 

Gabriel turned her gaze on him. “Why what, bucko?” 

He gestured. “Why are you here? Did Dean... why is Dean here?” 

Dean wrinkled his brow, in mock affront. “First: rude. Second: because Gabe wanted a lift.” 

Adam stared down at her. “You can fly.” 

“Yeah. But.” She wrinkled her nose. “That sounded like effort. Besides, Mikey invited me over, and Deanie boy needed to get out for some fresh air. Win-win.” 

As Dean reached down to cuff her on the shoulder, Adam turned to Michael. “You invited her?” 

“Well. Yes.” He moved into the kitchen and opened a cupboard, bringing out bowls and fussing with their arrangement on the countertop. "Gabriel asked if I—if we would contribute something to the upcoming holiday meal.” 

He couldn’t keep the incredulity from his voice. “So you’re going to... Michael, are you going to cook together ?” 

From her place on the couch, Gabriel chirped, “Yep!” 

Adam could think of no coherent reply. Before his brain could find its footing again, Dean was putting an arm across his shoulder and steering him toward the door. “Come on, kid, leave them to it. It’ll be fine.” He frowned. “It’ll probably be fine. Let’s go get a burger. Get out of the way for a while.” 

And without getting another word in, he was shuffled out his own front door and unceremoniously bundled into the Impala. 

----- 

“Relax,” Dean said, nudging Adam into a crackly plastic diner booth and taking the seat opposite. “Gabriel cooks in the bunker all the time, and the place is still standing.” 

“Not really what I was worried about,” Adam replied. Then, after a moment’s thought: “Well. Not the main thing.” 

“Then what’s the big deal?” 

A waiter drifted past, accepting their order and leaving full mugs of coffee in his wake. Over the edge of his mug, he examined Dean. His half-brother seemed at ease. Posture relaxed, expression open: in their (admittedly limited) experiences with one another, Adam couldn’t recall ever seeing him anything but tense. 

“I thought you’d be weirder about this, I guess. Not that I care, but—Sam was weirder about it.” 

Dean raised an eyebrow. “About Mike?” 

Adam squirmed a little, digging his shoulders into the seat. “Yeah.” Then: “Who told you?” 

“Nobody. He had to be somewhere. I worked out the rest.” 

“You worked it out,” Adam replied, suspicious. “And you’re not going to rag me about it?” 

“Believe this or don’t, but given the circumstances I am not only not surprised to find him at your place, I think I’m actually kinda relieved.” 

“What? Why?” 

“All the other possibilities were weirder,” Dean shrugged. “He isn’t with Jack and Cas full-time, and it’s not like he’s hanging out with Sam and Gabriel. He’s never around when Lucifer is. Still have no clue where Lucifer runs off to when he isn’t haunting our damn library, but my only other guess was to wherever Michael was holed up.” He frowned, then shook his head as if to clear it. “Whatever. Point is, he’s behaving himself when he’s with you. Right?” 

Adam narrowed his eyes, and said, “He’s not a pet.” 

“Yeah, sorry. Didn’t mean it like that.” 

Their food arrived. Plates piled high with nearly-identical hamburgers and stacks of fries. Adam laid into his meal without hesitation, elbows on the table, but paused when he caught their reflection in the diner window out of the corner of his eye. Until that moment, he had never seen himself in either of his half-brothers. And yet. Across from him: Dean. Wolfing down a hamburger like he was forever one decent meal short of well-fed. Elbows on the table. And something else, too: a cautious contentment, written in the soft crinkling lines near his eyes and the slant of his shoulders.  

Over the preceding months, Adam had watched Michael come to a similar ease in his newfound freedom. It let him move through the world differently than before. For the first time, Adam realized what that might look like not just on Michael, but on himself as well.  

That he realized this through looking at Dean might have bothered him, once. Now, though, he felt only a sort of grudging fondness. 

“So,” he grunted, around a mouthful of food. “Holiday dinner at your place, huh?” 

------------------------------------- 

[Now:]  

“You might have to get Sam to do that one,” Jack said, peering doubtfully up at Gabriel.  

“Call me short again, I dare you. I’ll just—there!” From the top of the ladder, she stretched up on tiptoe to the full extent of her reach, looping a garland over a light. Anyone with a more human sense of balance would certainly have fallen. Instead, she turned a gravity- and anatomy-defying pirouette, and sat down gracefully atop the last step. 

Adam watched them past piles of dishes. Dinner had been excellent, and cleanup had been delayed in favor of pushing the table to one side of the room. No one (aside from Gabriel) had been especially eager to do anything in the wake of eating so much food. So Adam and Michael sat at one end of the longest couch, Raphael curled with a mug of steaming tea at the other end. Dean had dragged out a pair of old leather armchairs from somewhere deeper within the bunker, and he and Castiel occupied these. 

Across from them, Sam had taken the smaller couch. He sat in silence, alternately glancing between Gabriel’s attempts to “add a little more color” to the bunker, and to the place where Michael held Adam’s hand in his own, idly tapping the back of Adam’s knuckles with the tips of his fingers. The little furrow between Sam’s brows was hard for Adam to parse, as was the slow way his right hand curled and uncurled into the edge of the couch cushions. He and Sam had spent more time together than he had with any other living soul. Under terrible circumstances, of course. But he sometimes wondered if they wouldn’t have understood each other better, had they known each other less well.  

Lucifer sat cross-legged on the floor. He had started out sitting upright, but as Adam watched, he had been slowly but surely leaning himself more firmly against Sam. When, in the course of turning his head to watch his son and sibling tangle themselves in ivy once again, he set his chin on Sam’s knee, Sam’s attention turned to him.  

Sam didn’t say anything. But he looked from Lucifer, to Michael, and back to Lucifer, and the frown between his eyebrows smoothed out, and his right hand uncurled from the couch and drifted up to scratch lightly at the nape of Lucifer’s neck.  

“Oh the weather outside is frightful,” Gabriel half-hummed. At last finding satisfaction with the decorations, she descended the ladder. On the way down, she ruffled Jack’s hair. “So, what next, kiddo? Wanna get introduced to the joys of eggnog?” 

Castiel asked, with a hint of amused indulgence, “As a holiday activity, I do not believe I have ever made a... what’s the term? ‘Snow angel?’” 

As Jack’s face lit up at the idea, Michael leaned his head on Adam’s shoulder. He whispered in his ear: “I think you might find the opportunity you were seeking earlier, in relation to snow and your brothers.” 

Adam understood immediately, and laughed. He turned his head and caught Michael’s mouth with his, a kiss and a grin all in one.  

------------------------------------- 

[takaraphoenix]

Mary's SHAZAM acronym is so horribly... forced and lackluster at the same time. I love the concept of her getting her own and even her getting a blessing specifically from goddesses, as a counter to Billy. But the choices, particularly the stubborn insistence on sticking with Greek and Roman goddesses exclusively, leading to them... genderbending the god Zephyrus... Just... No.

This whole godly crisis thing has, from the get-go, been set up to go beyond the Greco-Roman pantheon, we had the little prelude with Jack Frost and Siegfried, meaning the Nordic-Germanic pantheon is very explicitly shown and included, and then there are the two other Amazon tribes too - who famously stem from different pantheons.

Quite frankly, with both of that as well as the very opening of this mini-series of them showing us various gods from various cultures, it was an incredible let-down how... completely Greco-Roman centric the entire story was.

Wouldn't it have been much more... satisfying, more more progressive for the story of the Amazons as is, to see Hippolyta lead not just the usual Greek goddesses but allied Egyptian and Brazilian goddesses into the fight? And, hey, maybe some others too, who knows. Just, goddesses, standing together, united, the way the Amazons have come together, united, despite the different tribes they came from. A mirroring of that storyline.

And, consequently, those goddesses from different pantheons could have been the ones to bless Mary. There's no reason why Mary's SHAZAM has to be Greco-Roman.

Instead of bending over backward trying to try and make it all Greek and Roman goddesses to the meta-point of turning genderbending a god because there are no goddesses starting with the letter Z to make the acronym work, just maybe go shopping in another pantheon that has goddesses starting with a Z. I know it's a tough letter, but there are goddesses that have names that start with Z that could have come up organically in this mini-series and thus feeling inclined to bless Mary, after fighting at her side.

And it's not just the genderbent that bothers me, I also question Aurora because her granted powers don't make much sense to me as a choice. It just all feels very rushed-job forced. They were trying to force this so hard when they didn't have to.

Mary gets to redefine what it means to be a champion of SHAZAM, because she isn't a champion of the wizard - she is a champion of the goddess of Amazons, chosen by her and by other goddesses. They could have also just redefined what goddesses get to do the blessing, instead of going with "no, no, it has to be Greek or Roman"...

[cloama]

It's right around this time that my class and I start relaxing until Christmas break but the state is conducting observations now of all times, three months late...and they want to see me teach.

My kinders worked so hard to go from crying for their mommies and shitting themselves to reading and writing better than kids two years older than them. They're 3 units ahead of schedule. They deserve to relax but they're stuck reviewing material for an audience bc the powers that be demand I demonstrate a typical day for them. My window for these little popups ends Friday. It's been two weeks of stress and I'm over it.

It's there aren't enough observers then observe us less. I don't know what else to tell y'all. Don't expect me to still be hammering curriculum right when it's chanukah for some kids and the others these kids can hear sleigh bells ringing. Jack frost is what? Nipping! It's time for cocoa and letting our poor weird bodies adjust to getting sleepy at 6pm. Shit is getting dire.

I can't wait for them to leave us alone😭 We just wanna hang out, make weird art, and do karaoke.

[sylphmacabre]

Mullioned Pains

Fandom: Nightmare Dork University, an AU of RISE OF THE GUARDIANS that has become its own subfandom

'Verse - Collegeverse

Characters: NDU Pitch Black, NDU Piki Black, NDU Cossimo "Coz" Pitchiner, NDU Jack Sickle, NDU Proto

Pairings: Nightmare Galleon [Pitch/Coz], StageFright [Piki/Jack]

Rating: Teen

Summary: How friends, brothers, lovers, and... ummm, others... help drama student and theatre director Pitch Black cope with the frequent migraines he suffers during and after his time at Nightmare Dork University.

Notes: If you are wondering what the devil Nightmare Dork University is, and what it has to do with either the movie RISE OF THE GUARDIANS or the GUARDIANS books by William Joyce, please visit the NDU 101 page on Tumblr and its accompanying tags. It's a wild and woolly ride involving four different versions of Pitch Black and a very different version of Jack Frost, all of whom either room together or "fraternize" in a college / university AU. And let's not forget a taxidermied ferret named Mr. Pickles.

Originally posted on Archive Of Our Own on April 1, 2016.

Mullion: a slender vertical member that forms a division between units of a window, door, or screen or is used decoratively

=================================

PIKI - two years after graduating NDU

He couldn’t help but flinch when he heard the key in the lock of the front door of his flat, rather than the expected buzzer from the foyer below.  Piki’s momentary resentment of Pitch’s presumption disappeared when he saw his twin’s face.

A still face.  A composed face.  Not a flicker of animation, not a hint of pursed lips or clenched jaw.

But Pitch’s right hand kept opening and closing spasmodically.  Piki knew that sign.

It had been more than a decade since his brother had come to him for comfort for one of his headaches.  Without letting himself think about why Pitch was coming to him for comfort, Piki swung instantly and instinctively into the routine he and his brother had established in childhood.  He led Pitch to the couch, sat next to him. and guided Pitch’s head to his shoulder with his right hand while keeping his left arm loosely clasped around his twin’s waist.

He could feel Pitch’s breath hitching as he tried to cope with the pain.  “Ssssh, close your eyes,” Piki murmured, closed his own in sympathy, and began to hum the “Promenade” theme from Mussorgsky’s Pictures At An Exhibition.  

JACK - November of Pitch’s senior year at NDU

Was he overstepping his bounds?  Would he just be adding to Pitch’s headache?  Would Pitch appreciate the little trinket that was just like the one Jack’s sister had given him when she thought Jack was afraid of the dark?  

Since the beginning of the semester, Jack had quietly filed away in his memory everything he had observed about the older student who’d taken him on as a stagehand, even if Pitch had done it under protest.  He knew how Pitch liked his coffee.  He’d learned when Pitch was trying to rile Koz up in a lighthearted manner and when they were poised to do one another unmitigated damage.  He was unsurprised that Pitch genuinely feared his cousin Proto, his fear an equal measure to his disgust at their being related.

He did not understand what it was about Piki that made Pitch unleash real venom at his twin brother instead of the clever drawling sarcasm he used on everyone else.

After yet another screaming match backstage at the NDU theatre, where Piki stormed out slamming the stage door behind him and Pitch sank down on a rickety chair behind the curtain and put his face in his hands, Jack was prepared, despite his self-doubts.

When Pitch returned to the apartment he shared with Pitchiner and Proto, exhausted, hungry, and bleary-eyed after combatting his stress-induced migraine in private, he found a bright blue rabbit’s-foot keychain on his desk, along with a note in Jack’s neat handwriting.

It’s not magic, but it helps me to calm down.  I hope it will help you too.

Pitch rubbed the soft fur between his fingers and closed his eyes. 

PITCHINER - Sometime after their tenth wedding anniversary

He was not the most sentimental of men on the planet, but then again, neither was Pitch.

Coz had congratulated himself on finding what he thought was the perfect getaway spot for Pitch to finish his newest screenplay.  Spooky inspiration was all right in its way, at least for Pitch, and chopping wood for the massive fireplace in the cabin helped Coz flex muscles he hadn’t used since NDU and the Army, muscles he’d forgotten he had.

But now he wasn’t so sure that a wooded mountain retreat, far from the highway and civilization, was all that great an idea.  His husband was now huddled in a rocker near the kitchen stove, face screwed up in misery, in too much pain to snark or to make a sound beyond an occasional hiss.  A combination of unexpectedly cold temperatures for May and altitude sickness from the increased elevation had conspired to give Pitch one doozy of a physical headache and Coz one doozy of an emotional one.

To distract himself and Pitch from the worrisome thoughts of seizures and blood clots and strokes and aneurysms while being two hours away from the nearest hospital, Coz gave his husband a cheeky grin and blurted out, “Do you remember when I stuffed sweat socks into that old radiator back at our dorm to stop it from clanking?”

Pitch looked back at him blankly, his eyes ringed with darker shadows than normal.  The silence stretched for countless minutes and Coz mentally kicked himself   Then, surprisingly and gratifyingly, the corners of Pitch’s thin lips quirked upwards in subdued mirth.  “Ah, the stench of true love.”

PROTO - Two months after move-in at NDU

A four-afghan migraine.  Oh dear, this WAS serious.

Proto dispassionately viewed the sleeping form of his cousin stretched out on the couch under multiple blankets, face buried in cushions so that only his distinctive crest of black hair could be seen.

Oh dear, indeed.

This called for drastic measures.

One quick and completely justifiable break-in, one cupboard rummage-by-feel, and one gently-muted whisking later, Proto placed a mug of hot gingered wheatgrass-and-chard tea and a snifter of brandy on the coffee table within Pitch’s reach.  He tenderly positioned Mr. Pickles between his roommate’s drawn-up knees and the back of the couch so that the stuffed ferret’s winsome grin would be the first sight to cheer Pitch when he awoke.

Proto ghosted away to his own room with a self-satisfied smile.

[writer59january13]

The remnants of August 2024 Hurricane Debbie

Like a humane huntress, she

(the anthropomorphized storm)

brought a spate of cool Autumn like

temperatures and gentle soothing rain here within my neck of the woods

for the last couple of days.

No matter the fall equinox and first day of autumn arrives countless weeks from now on Sunday, September 22, 2024, at 08:44 A.M. Eastern Daylight Time in the Northern Hemisphere synonymous with The Eastern Time Zone a time zone encompassing part or all of 23 states in the eastern part of the United States, parts of eastern Canada, and the state of Quintana Roo in Mexico

the only Mexican state to observe EST. Said geographical area moved from Central Time to Eastern Time after a successful lobbying effort by tourism interests. In 2015, the state of Quintana Roo changed to a new time zone, Zona Sureste (Southeast Zone), and discontinued daylight saving time, being in UTC−05:00 all year. Quintana Roo does not observe daylight saving time.

Though record breaking triple digit temperatures showed no mercy against the sheltering sky, (when humanity

gets bowled over like ten pins

not sparing anyone after fury of coming storm and indiscriminate havoc of mother nature

poised to strike) unleashing brutally hazy, hot, and humid dog days gave

weather weary woebegone wretched earthlings something to complain about and blame the Republicans

no doubt, aforementioned swath of land experienced temporary respite and relief against relentless horrid umpteenth heat wave,

which reprieve and blessing from the blustering, blistering,

and blasting fiery solar blast furnace

summoning gratitude regarding

temporary prized lull heaven sent

buzzfeeding, and nursing biosphere with good n plenti liquid precipitation offering sneak preview when at long last summer two thousand twenty four segues into September days awash with refreshing temperatures and bathing the terrestrial firmament with much welcoming rain. Soon empyrean découpage citadel

will betoken (bespeak) autumnal arrival

as chariot of fire emblazons telltale signature

one humble human doth bid summer adieu. Already an imperceptible merest trace hints of crisp cool mornings and evenings ushering fresh air French kissed yours truly tongue in cheek refreshing air wafts thru longish hair trademark characteristic property aging pencil neck geek attends brief bathroom charge coffee exotic brew jolted kidneys leak urine not kidding water closet doth reek.

Back after I did potty hod dee.

How grand when third season of two thousand and twenty four

visits upon us mortals

Montgomery county, Pennsylvania said geographic real estate sloughs (i.e. sheds) summer dog days

necessitating unshuttered windows

allowing, enabling and providing natural aeration

to circulate thru unit B44 cozy one bedroom apartment.

I will stave off clicking

the central air conditioning unnecessarily,

nor crank up british thermal units

(the amount of heat needed to raise

one pound of water at maximum density through one degree Fahrenheit,

equivalent to 1.055 × 103 joules)

until bone chilling cold arrives,

though hard to believe,

yet invariably come Jack Frost will make his debut

and like clockwork, yours truly will renege and surrender creature comfort, albeit climate controlled temptation similar when global warming quite evident predicated upon Farmers' Almanac prophetic prediction. Though ecology minded quick acclimation to unseasonable hot or cold temperatures

will find me (a contrarian) eating his words

adjusting thermostat dial by way of explanation to remove the chill no matter cranking up heat will invariably aggravate palmar hyperhidrosis

whereas turning on air conditioning

doth thwart excessive sweating of palms

during sweltering triple digit

Ah... remembrance of wood burning stove papa lit,

to dispense chill pervading childhood home

324 Level Road christened "Glen Elm"

within national (local registry)

when Leiper family initially occupied estate

at that time (think early twentieth century)

merely intended as summer getaway.

This time of year finds me

to reminisce and wax poetic

nostalgia more pronounced,

particularly as aspiring wordsmith

orbitz the sun seemingly with greater rapidity

twelve months cycling at light speed

accentuated when flora and fauna

exhibit metaphorical raiment

presaging fall fashion

linkedin with approaching senescence

prompting choleric, generic, and homeric garden variety Homo sapien

to rue his transience upon oblate spheroid.

Gentrification impossible mission

thus thy lovely bones will subsequently

become repurposed into ashes sprinkled

hither and yon to and fro

across elysium fields of happy hunting grounds.

[erinsworld]

Another WIP I'd forgotten about until I searched for this week's word. Which I apparently use a lot, lol! Though after reading through this, I may call it done. It's longer than a drabble, flashfic maybe? Small one-shot scene? I think I had left it with the intention of going back and adding a lot more to it, a lot more details. But I think I may like just as the small moment in time that it is.

And hey, look at that, more hurt Jack. 😊

He presses two fingers against Jack’s neck.

Doesn’t move, doesn’t breath.

His drops his head onto Jack’s shoulder as he presses again. Harder this time.

Please…

Proof of life thumps against the pads of his fingers and the sob he’d been holding in breaks free.

He cups Jack’s cheek, meticulous and slow in his movements as he rolls Jack’s head to face him.

Blood coats one side of his face and Mac uses the cuff of his shirt, softly wiping across his eye.

"Jack… hey, Jack… No sleeping on the job."

Mas uses his free hand to tap the other side of his face. Silence reigns. Only the two of them exist.

"Wake up, man." He runs the knuckle of his forefinger on Jack’s sternum.

"I really need you to wake up." Mac stammers. "You’re scaring me, Jack."

**

If there is one fic on my extremely long WIP list that I would one day love to finish, it is this one. Or, this set of WIPs. Sitting abandoned now for a few years. It's a set of about 5 or 6 separate fics. Each one with different characters, different actions, their own separate moments in time, if you will, that all further the main story idea to its conclusion. Each part is partially written, some much more than others, and some an absolute total mess that'll need a rewrite.

And totally overwhelming.

Maybe I'll make them my winter project. Something to work on when I'm stuck in the house during snow storms.

Sierra November and its characters belong to the lovely altschmerzes and I thank them immensely for allowing me to play in their sandbox. I hope when, when I finally finish I'll do them justice. Go check out their fics on A03, they're great.

"Come in please,” Director Webber steps into the doorway and addresses them. “And shut the door behind you.”

The members of Sierra November file into the room and Thomas closes the door with a near silent click. The Director’s fingers brush up against the large windows that line the room and they instantly frost over, and Thomas would think that was a pretty cool trick if he wasn’t so preoccupied with finding out exactly what was going on.

“Thank you all for coming in so quickly.”

“You’re welcome,” Lucia answers for them all, automatically taking the lead. “But your message didn’t give the impression that this was a casual request.”

Thomas cringes at the direct, almost flippant remark and waits with bated breath for the reprimand he sure is coming. Director Webber smiles instead, but it’s a brittle thing, pain, and an emotion he can’t identify shining in her eyes.

“You’re right, it wasn’t. And before you ask,” she holds up a hand to forestall any of them from speaking, “none of you are in any sort of trouble. Quite the opposite in fact. Have a seat while I explain.”

Thomas sits on one side of the couch as Meredith settles beside him on the other side. Vincent and Lucia flanking them as they sit in the armchairs on either side.

“This is a time-sensitive and fluid situation, so I’m going to get right to the point.” the Director begins. “You were all summoned here for the skills that you all possess not only individually, but as a unit, you’re standing as one of our top-tier exfil teams and for your familiarity with the…operative in need of emergency evac.”

This week’s word is…

✨ PLEASE ✨

Find the word in any WIP and share the sentence containing it. Reply, reblog, stick it in the tags, tag us in a new post, or keep it private. All fandoms, all ships, all writers welcome.

[praeteritus-memories-muses]

Name: Jackson Overland Frost

Series: Rise of the Guardians

Continuity: FIlm version

Age: 18 (physical appearance)

Height: 5'9"

Birthplace: Burgess, Pennsylvania, United States

Orientation: Bisexual

Species: Frost spirit

Occupation: Guardian of childhood fun

Sister: Mary

Bio:

Before becoming an immortal spirit of fun, he was Jackson Frost. His parents had lived for a while in Burgess, Pennsylvania. He was born on a frosty evening and was certainly loved by his parents. Though he wasn’t entirely the good boy his parents thought him to be, he often played pranks on the other villagers and had a tendency to joke around often.

It’s only at ten years old when he learned of responsibility when his little sister was born. Jack bonded with his baby sister immediately and vowed to protect her no matter what, she’d certainly grow up to be very close with her brother too. Jack would dedicate himself to make sure his sister knew nothing but joy and laughter, especially after their father died.

Their father had unfortunately died of a horrible infection from an animal bite during a hunt with the other men thus leaving just Jack, his mother and sister. He was there for his mother and made a promise to make sure things stayed happy for the two of them now that he had to be the man of the household at such a young age.

Jack would continue this pranks, tricks and silly fun. He’d hang from trees and swing around pretending to be an animal to make his sister laugh or play games like hopscotch with her. While he played a little too many pranks and games, even his mother telling him that he can’t have fun all the time, he loved it and was happy with his life.

While it was spring, the snow was still on the ground and the lake was presumably still frozen in. Jack normally would check with a stick but the ice looked surely perfect enough to skate on that he made the fatal mistake of not checking that one day. With his mother’s last words to him being “Be careful.”, he’d go out onto the ice with his little sister.

Just as they were skating, the ice started to crack under his sister. While she was normally a very quick little girl, even earning the nickname of Flea because of her speed, she was too scared at how fast the ice was cracking to move out of the way of the cracking ice.

Jack would immediately calm her down, pretending to play one last game of hopscotch with her before throwing her out of the way and onto the solid ground where no ice could fall in under her. While he laughs that they did it and lived, Jack wasn’t watching himself and fell into the frozen water where he drowned to death.

That was when the Man In The Moon, a being who chooses creatures from all over the galaxy to protect children, chose Jack for his kind heart and love to protect his little sister. He revived Jack from the dead with the goal that he would protect the children of the world from harm by bringing them fun in their lives. Yet Jack wouldn’t know this.

He was resurrected with no memories of his past and no understanding of why he was here. All he was told by the man in the moon is that his name was Jack Frost with no explanation of his powers or that he was even a dead young man brought back from the dead.

Though he’s curious and immediately used his magic stick to bring snow to the area, realizing he could fly with the powers of the wind where he’d immediately fly to a local village. He’d tried to ask where he was in the village only to realize nobody could hear him, see him and walked right through him. He had to live in complete isolation like that for 300 years. Mostly alone as he only briefly met with the Easter Bunny and Santa Clause every once in a great while.

300 years later, Jack was told by North (Santa) that he was a guardian to which Jack would immediately reject it. He was far too fun and relaxed to be a guardian in the same way all the other guardians were, but the journey to stop Pitch Black opened his eyes that perhaps he could protect others by giving them the fun and joy they need to have the strength to be strong.

After being a large part of Pitch Black (the boogeyman)’s defeat, Jack was finally seen. He was first seen by a boy named Jamie and quickly snowballed into now every child being able to see him.

Not only was he finally seen by people, he was able to unlock the memories of his past and finally figured out why he was brought to life again. Sometimes he does wonder if Jamie is related his little sister, solely from how similar he thinks they can be.

Today, Jack is a winter spirit who protects children and adults when danger hits. Even if they can’t see him, he’ll still help him any way he can with the power of icy winds and snow.

[llpodcast]

(Literary License Podcast)

Deliverance (1972)

 Deliverance is a 1972 American survival thriller film produced and directed by John Boorman, and starring Jon Voight, Burt Reynolds, Ned Beatty, and Ronny Cox, with the latter two making their feature film debuts. The screenplay was adapted by James Dickey from his 1970 novel of the same name. The film was a critical and box office success, earning three Academy Award nominations and five Golden Globe Award nominations.  Widely acclaimed as a landmark picture, the film is noted for a music scene near the beginning, with one of the city men playing "Dueling Banjos" on guitar with a banjo-picking country boy, and for its notorious, violent, brutal sodomy rape scene. In 2008, Deliverance was selected for preservation in the United States National Film Registry by the Library of Congress as being "culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant."

 Race With The Devil (1973)

 Race with the Devil is a 1975 American action horror film directed by Jack Starrett, written by Wes Bishop and Lee Frost, and starring Peter Fonda, Warren Oates, Loretta Swit, and Lara Parker. This was the second of three films Fonda and Oates would star in together (The Hired Hand, 1971) was their first, and 92 in the Shade (1975) was their third). Race with the Devil is a hybrid of the horror, action, and car chase genres.

 Opening Credits; Introduction (1.04); Background History (20.15); Deliverance (1972) Film Trailer (21.45); The Original (24.37); Let's Rate (57.29); Introducing the Double Feature (1:02.27); Race With The Devil (1973) Film Trailer (1:03.30); The Attraction (1:05.30); How Many Stars (1:51.31); End Credits (1:58.50); Closing Credits (2:00.23)

 Opening Credits– Epidemic Sound – copyright 2021. All rights reserved

 Closing Credits:  Take Me Home, Country Roads by Olivia Newton John.  Taken from the album Let Me Be There.  Copyright 1973 Festival Records

​

Original Music copyrighted 2020 Dan Hughes Music and the Literary License Podcast. 

 All rights reserved.  Used by Kind Permission.

 All songs available through Amazon Music.