#livid instruments

[jonathanbyersphd]

Jonathan Byers - You're On Your Own Kid

Inspired by this post from @messrsbyler

[dollarstoreartsupplies]

okay okay okay so in trying to come up with a headcanon for what instrument Pete would play if he needed to (clarinet) I've come to a very important youngest-sibling-of-poor-parents conclusion:

it isn't what instrument peter would want to learn to play (listen, I know it's clarinet, but in a world where it isn't) because those are expensive and I don't think pete is musically driven enough to really bother putting a lot of effort into convincing his parents to buy him an instrument or saving up for one on his own,,,,,,,,, no.

whatever instrument pete would know how to play is whatever ted would buy because he was convinced knowing how to play an instrument would make girls think he was hot

and then (very important note: this is coming from a bass player myself) the only answer to what a pathetic, kind of gross guy with very little perception of what women would find hot who probably heard one time on twitter that guys playing acoustic guitars were cringey would buy and promptly never practice (leading to his little brother stealing it and teaching it to himself when he was bored and under stimulated) is absolutely bass guitar

[safehaven3d]

fucking HILARIOUS all the men in the gisèle case acting like goddamn pussies and saying they were "forced" or "didn't know". fuck you. fuck you and admit you made a terrible act, that not only ruined her life, but also yours by proxy of justice that befalls upon you. men HATE accountability because it condenmns them for their terrible actions. learn to take it like a man, now I say. you're not man enough to admit to your wrongdoings? shut the fuck up!!!

one of these so called "men" anonymously (because he knows he'd be ripped apart by the gp if he came out by name) said he even hated the "hysteria" caused by the news and that women are "pseudo-femenists", give it up dude. you fucked up. and then he goes on to say that because "she reacted to simple caresses… she scratched herself with a coordinated movement" it meant she was awake. bro???? people move and scratch themselves when asleep, much less drugged.

and then Vincent C, one of the other rapists, only could see what he did as rape because his mommy and lawyers had to tell him and spell it out for him. nah. stfu. and EVEN THEN, these men ask for mercy because "they didn't know". shut up. just, shut the fuck up. it's the same case as when you travel to another country, the law of that state automatically applies to you, even if you don't know or aren't familiar with it. but this is a whole nother situation, which talks about RAPE and recorded SEX.

icing on the cake is the husband shielding his vision when the rape videos were shown. what a disgrace.

Click here to read more about the Gisèle Pelicot's trial against her ex-husband and over 50 men involved in her case.

[turretpolygamy]

I like the idea of these conversations taking place under the cover of Raine teaching Luz to play an instrument as part of her royal education. I imagine Luz is terrified of failure, basically spending an entire year on a tightrope between death and villainy. So having someone as calm and kind as Raine help her through the low stakes failures of learning to make music as one of the few healthy exercises she gets to do after Belos’ death. She doesn’t have to be an empress with Raine, she can just be a student who can flub a note with zero consequences and it’s freeing.

i'm back to thinking about the raeda role reversal re luz in the princess luz AU. there's this post from a bit ago talking about raine being able to convince eda of luz's good intentions, but now i'm imagining the aftermath of that, where luz is like "but.... why DID she listen to what you have to say...??"

raine, evasively: we have.... a history

luz: a history??

raine:

luz: omg. wait. omg. is she your ex??

raine: look-

luz: OMG

raine: LISTEN-

luz: YOU'RE EXES WITH A WILD WITCH????

raine: IT WAS A LONG TIME AGO AND-

luz: THAT'S THE COOLEST SHIT I'VE EVER HEARD OMGGG TELL ME EVERYTHING RIGHT NOW IMMEDIATELY

raine, So Exasperated: okay. i will. but you have GOT to stop FLAPPING ABOUT IT IN PUBLIC,

[charliehoennam]

feral love

a/n: @sizzlingcloudmentality had me in a chokehold with this idea.

prompt: Being all up in your face, pissed and horny, hands all over you? Not a single fuck given due to the fact that they are in a bar or something "look at your face while I fuck some sense into you." And he grips her neck from behind and makes her look into the mirror above the sink

pairing: will miller x f!reader

warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v, jealous will, mentions of breaking up (sorta)

SHARING IS CARING, REBLOG IF YOU LIKE IT

It’s the first date you’ve been on since the rough break-up with Will. You had decided to take a break when the arguments started to become a constant in your daily life.

Technically, you didn’t even know it was a date. You thought you were just getting drinks with your friend. You hadn’t realized she had set you up on a blind date until you arrived at the bar and saw her boyfriend sitting at a table along with his friend.

You didn’t want to be rude, so you figured you’d stay and enjoy the drinks she had promised. Might as well now that you’re already here.

The friend isn’t too bad. Although you keep mistaking the name Louis for Luke, he’s rather cute and seems nice. He keeps asking you questions about your job, where you’re from, your hometown.

He’s trying to make enough small talk to get you comfortable, which you kindly appreciate.

Your answers are slightly short, but kind and enough to keep the small talk going, despite the fact that Louis keeps getting the sense that you don’t want to be there. He’s not wrong about that.

The bar is pretty packed with people excited to see a band play live as they ready their instruments. When the music starts, everyone instantly makes their way to crowd around the elevated stage.

Sitting by yourself at the table to wallow in your fourth – or is the fifth now? –  gin and tonic. Pushing the ice and slice of lime around with your straw, you scan the bar fidgeting uncomfortable in your seat.

Most of the guests are dancing and singing to the music, a few are scattered here and there sitting at the bar or tables to continue their talk. Some are hanging around the pool tables, taking turns. No one really catches your eyes – not that you were even looking for one who might – until your eyes land on a familiar face staring at you from the bar.

Your chest rises heavily but quickly as you stare at Will. His short blonde hair is slightly unkempt along with his beard. He’s wearing the black hoodie that used to swallow you when you’d put it on to get the take-out after a round of good fucking when he’d come home from deployment.

It still smells like your perfume which is why he hardly wears it now, but this night was an exception. He missed you and he wanted to feel like you were still somehow close.

When he saw you in the bar, he couldn’t believe his own eyes. He had to go over to talk to you, but when he noticed you weren’t alone, the courage he had was shot to shit.

Will became quietly furious and told the guys that he was just gonna drink by the bar, that they should go ahead and shoot pool without him because he wanted to be alone.

They kept an eye on him from the distance while he kept his eye on you. With every smile and laugh Louis managed to pull out of you, Will took a shot of whisky along with his beer to keep him from flipping tables. He was ready to drag the man out of there by his collar.

But instead, he sat back and watched you. Watched how you played with your hair like you used to play with it around him, how you rubbed your lips together to even out your lipstick.

Louis’s glance at them didn’t go unnoticed by Will. He remembered how he used to watch your lips because he simply couldn’t take his eyes off of them.

You can tell from the flaring nostrils that he is livid. It’s not out of fear; you know he would never do anything to hurt you.

You can’t stop feeling like a bug on a microscope, so you quickly avert your eyes and look at your drink. Taking a last long gulp of it, you push the glass aside and grab your purse.

You make for the bathroom seeking shelter from Will’s penetrating gaze, but before you can reach the door, you feel a hand grabbing your arm in the empty hallway that leads toward it.

“I just wanna talk.”

“It’s never just a talk between us, Will” you argue trying to avoid the large silhouette of him cast by the dim dive bar light.

“You’re out with someone else? You haven’t even moved your things out.”

“I’m not out with him. I came here with Natalie and she didn’t tell me we’d be meeting them.”

“Are you fucking him?”

You frown at how quick he is to dismiss your entire explanation. All he can think about is that?

“Are you serious? That’s what you wanna ask?”

“Are you fucking him or not?”

“Yes, I am. What’s it to you?”

Lying to Will is stupid. The man interrogates terrorists from for a living. He knows a lie – especially coming from you – when he hears one. But you just can’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that you are still madly in love with him and that it’s why you haven’t moved your things out of his place yet. Inside, you still hope to go back home to him.

He doesn’t reply to you because he knows you’re lying, but it doesn’t stop from getting angry at the thought of you with someone else. You, kissing and touching and fucking someone that’s not him. Their hands holding you and stroking your hair and other parts of your that are meant just for him. That someone else gets to see you come undone, with your hair a perfect mess and lips swollen from his kisses.

That is meant for him. And him only. He can’t understand why you haven’t come home yet, but he does understand why you haven’t come for your things. You can try to hide it as best as you can, but he can see right through your façade.

“You’re fucking him huh?”

His towering frame steps closer, intimidatingly cornering you against the wall. His hand doesn’t leave your arm. The stare he casts down at you has goosebumps travelling over your skin. Like a bunny caught in a trap, you know you’re done for.

“Does he fuck you Iike I do?” he questions nudging his nose at the hair on the crown of your head

“Even better” you snap, trying to resist the trance he holds you under.

He scoffs with a false smile.

“Let’s fucking see about that,” he snarls pulling you into the bathroom.

You frown at the way he shoves you inside, holding your arm where the indents of his fingers are still printed into your skin as you question what his problem is.

“My problem is you.”

Locking the bathroom door, he quickly closes the space between you. His lips crash hungrily against yours. His hand balls the hair on the back of your head, keeping you close and unable to pull away from him. Not that you would either way.

You’ve missed this, you’ve missed him. You’ve missed his kiss. You’ve missed his touch. You’ve missed everything about him.

The way your tongues dance with one another makes you forget why you had even left the house in the first place. As he pushes you back towards the sink, your hands reach for his thick neck to keep yourself from falling over with his eagerness.

Although the music echoes into the bathroom, all you can hear is the heavy breathing and desperate moans coming from the pair of you as eager hands grope clumsily at each other.

The drinks you had only add to the intoxication of his kiss, whisky lingering on his lips. The room spins around you as his mouth reaches that one spot on your neck that he knows drives you insane.

Your head lulls back in a daze and your eyes close to savor the touch of his hand under the top you have on. He groans massaging your flesh and works his way down to your ass, shoving itself past your jeans to push them down as the loose fabric slides down easily.

His large hands grope your cheeks spreading them with a slight burn that only soaks your pussy even more. Will watches his hands knead and massage your flesh the reflection of the mirror like you’re his favorite personal playdough, fingers invading under the fabric of your panties.

With his throbbing dick grinding against you, he closes his eyes and lets himself melt back into the kiss. Keeping a firm grip on your ass, he moves his other hand to your front to shove it down your panties.

You moan his name, pulling away from his kiss desperate for air when he circles around and over your hardened clit.

“Jesus Fuck, Will,” you gasp gripping at his hoodie with your nails. “Fuck, that feels s-so good. Right there…”

With his other hand balled into the back of your hair, he forces your mouth back onto his to continue his selfish prodding with his tongue.

“he touch you like this?” he breathes, mouth opening against your cheek.

“N-no,” you mumble into him.

He smirks watching your face pinch at the pleasure he wants to remind you only he can offer. Gathering the slick from your folds, he hisses at the dampness.

“He get you wet like this too huh? Ain’t even fucked you yet and you’re fucking drenched, baby.”

You shake your head as if he didn’t already know the answer. He just likes hearing that no one makes you feel as good as he can.

Drunk on his touch, the scent of him fills your lungs and goes straight to your head coursing through your veins like a drug. You palm the hard outline of his cock through his jeans and quickly work to unbutton them, high on him as his fingers push into your dripping entrance.

You quickly fumble your hand into his pants and briefs desperate to feel his hard dick. The touch of your hand on his cock shatters the hard front he tries to hold onto.

“Shit, baby,” he whimpers biting into your shoulder when your thumb swipes over his leaking tip.

His fingers cease their movement for a quick moment as you tug on his cock, driving him insane with every stroke. Addicted to you, he turns you around to face the mirror on the wall.

As he quickly pushes his pants and briefs down, you mimic him by quickly pushing your panties down your thighs and spread your legs, angling your hips and arching your ass out to welcome him.

His mouth hungrily latches onto your neck as his cock glides roughly against you drench folds, gathering your slick to mingle with his pre-cum. Licking a glob of his spit onto the fingers that were inside you, he savors the sweet familiar taste he’s longed for as he coats the saliva over the tip of his cock.

“Look at me.” His command has your eyes shooting up to obey, taking in the sight your stained lipstick. “Feel me.”

Staring at your reflection, he watches you to make sure your eyes never leave his as he slowly pushes his cock into your cunt.

“Take it. Take it like a good girl.”

Your eyebrows furrow at the slow delicious burn you feel as his cock slowly spears itself in between your clenching walls.

“You’re my girl,” he whispers wrapping a hand on your neck. The wetness of his spit and your pussy feels cold against your skin.

You nod in agreement gazing hopeless into his dark eyes.

“Say it” he orders bottoming out, balls deep in you.

“I-I’m your girl” you nod, eyes and hips pleading for movement at the fullness of his cock.

“Only my girl?” he questions shoving a hand down to again toy with your clit.

“Only your girl.”

He smiles and finally starts moving his hips, fucking you hard and slow.

“Show me your tits, baby girl.”

Without hesitation, your hands excitedly push your bra and tops up bunching them together over your chest. Will kisses the back of your head praising your obedience, whispering how much he loves you as his hips pick up the pace.

The ungodly sounds of your damp and hot cheeks clapping against his relentless hips fill the bathroom along with your panting. Growing closer and closer to your orgasm, you grip the edge of the countertop and bite down on your bottom lip, taking him raw and rough as best as you can, trying to last longer but the fingers rubbing your clit force your orgasm to come soon than you hoped.

“Look, baby” he orders with a hand under your jaw as he pounds into you, fingertips squeezing into your warm cheeks.

Your teary eyes struggle to fix clearly on the mirror but you obey regardless. You’ll always obey him; a slave to his love.

His hips stutter in their movements as he finally cums into you, filling your walls with warmth.

“Look at you. This is where you belong. With me.” He breathes against your ear.

“Where do you belong hm?” he asks slowly pushing his load deeper and deeper in you with gentle thrusts.

“W-with you.”

“That’s my girl,” he smiles and places a tender kiss to your cheek. “Go say goodbye to your friends and tell ‘em you’re coming home.”

[unboundprompts]

Hi! Sorry to bother again but can I request prompts for characters playing an instrument such as piano or violin? Like they are really good at it sometimes conveying either sadness or just happiness in love

Prompts for Showing Emotion through Music

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

She had seen him like this only once before. The harsh notes of the piano pounded against her temples as she stared at him. His music was angry. He slammed his hands down on the keys, beating the notes out quick and loud. His brows were furrowed, the veins in his hands prominent due to the tension in his arms. The music screamed every livid thought that he could not bring himself to say.

They felt like the world was ending. Their hands shook as they slid the bow across the strings of the violin. The notes came out warbled. Tears fell down their cheeks, falling onto the body of the instrument that rested under their chin. They didn't know what else to do with themselves, and so they played their sorrowful tune and hoped that no one was around to hear their pitiful display.

Her hands danced across the keys of the piano, the notes light and playful. Her heart hammered in her chest, her cheeks were flushed pink. She couldn't help the smile that spread onto her lips. The music sang the song that overwhelmed her heart, an optimistic sound that flooded the room. She was in love.

[respectthepetty]

Pride Petty Watch (The Untamed) 1/?

I let the crowd pick which two blacklisted shows I would watch from my Petty List, so I flew through the first one knowing I had this 50-episode beast waiting for me. People have warned me that the first two episodes wouldn't make sense, there are a ton of characters to keep track of, I need to watch it at normal speed, and I need to keep the sound on. Therefore, I was already mad before I hit play, yet somehow I started the first episode, blacked out, and emerged five episodes later.

Which means I like it so far, and here's some quick reasons why:

Before I start, these two better be an item because they are my favorite BTS song aka "🔥" and since I haven't seen them in the present yet, I'm fearing something happened to them in that great battle in the past, and if so, I'M GOING TO BE BE LIVID! I've had them for three whole minutes, and they are everything to me, so I feel this story is going to fuck me over.

Everyone is chasing after this golden black snitch, yet nobody is catching it, so although there is a lot of death happening, I'm laughing.

If you squint, My Stand-In and The Untamed are the same. Boys who fell off a cliff come back in another body only to live the same life with the same people and make the same bad decisions. Cool cool cool.

This current lecturer is stating nobody could find the body but he fell into fire/lava, so what body were they thinking they would find?! Also, don't think I didn't catch homeboy getting in trouble in the past for asking in class what happens when a spirit demands revenge and the instructor got upset because look where we are now! Possession of a body for the sake of revenge. Should've entertained the question, professor, because sixteen years later, it will come back to haunt you, literally.

And homeboy applied his own theory of making the possessed bodies work for him to fight the other body. He is a smart cookie, and that's why the original Moo Moo person gave his body up to him.

@dribs-and-drabbles, if this is why you told me I needed the sound on, I'm confident I'm not going to remember this melody. And how is he playing a leaf right now?

I can't take this seriously. This feels like an 80s music video, and he is about to hit me with the hottest synthesizer intro.

And the sword has the golden black snitch in it. *Pikachu face*

I can't play an instrument but for a DIY flute made out of bamboo on the spot, I thought his playing was excellent. For people being saved from being squashed, they are some haters, and I would have stopped playing just so they could suffer.

I picked up that sister is dead in the future, but her kid is a brat, and I would've been mean to him too.

And did the brother really kill him in that battle on the hill because when the entire crowd was like "you killed him, right?", he was looking like . . .

So this is the brat's daddy? It would make sense that a man who shut down an entire hotel for his party would have a son who sets 400 traps so nobody else can catch anything. The privilege is genetic.

I like him AND I respect him. He has priorities and they are to drink and party because even when he came back in that other body, he snatched the liquor. As the opening showed, he's here for a good time, not a long time.

I don't like Fuddy Duddy. He can remember 3,500 rules (this place is where fun goes to die), but couldn't remember to tell my party bro that his sister and brother were inside? Everybody just left homeboy without a note saying where they are, and Fuddy Duddy had the information, yet was too busy lecturing about rules. AND committed the ultimate party foul and wasted the liquor. Make that the 3,501th rule! He's lucky he can lay the synthesizer so well.

This is where the big battle is/was (Nightvale, Nightshade, NightWhatever), and I hope this man died in it because he is doing TOO MUCH! "I don't fear death; I fear boredom" YOU'RE boring! Shut up and go collect the pieces of that dumb rock, Thanos Jr., so we can get this battle going.

HE BROUGHT A BIRD INTO CLASS! This is the everyday American high school class.

Why is everyone in the Fire Nation so pissed? Is it because it's hot there? All of y'all are doing too much except for that sister and her brother. I know that brother was the zombie guy from the statue fight, so that means the main homeboy was talking to Fire Nation sister at the graves. That was her family's grave, and she must be a good person, who is probably dead now too.

So they can all play magical instruments? They're like Josie and the Pussycats, playing gigs between fighting crime.

The brat's dad is gold, the Cloud Recesses (what is this name about because they should be a lot more fun with a name like that?) are white and blue, and the Fire Nation is red, so it's odd that homeboy had the dark blue robes with red underneath before coming to school, and keeps getting really friendly with the fire people. Plus the cloud people's power is blue, but his comes out in bursts of red. Is his daddy really Fire Nation? Get Maury on the line.

So his bird buddy gave him porn, which he gave to Fuddy Duddy, who then ripped it up. No wonder why he is so good at school and remembers 3,500 rules. Got nothing but time on his hands since he isn't using his hands doing anything else by being so repressed.

Fuddy Duddy just said he doesn't touch people, yet in the very beginning he snatched homeboy's hand without hesitation, so he wouldn't fall to his death. Then, he snatched that premium liquor for him. I see you and your heart on your sleeve, my man! Just like this water demon, the feelings are sneaking up on you and snatching you up!

Should've bought her the comb, bro, because she's going to be dead after that big battle since she was sent to snoop for the Fire Nation. Even though she is trying to help her brother, I feel this will be y'alls Romeo and Juliet moment.

So the brother was always going to come back from the dead since he already was cursed(?), and my homeboy is once again proving to be a friend to all. I like you, and I will learn your name, hopefully by episode 28.

Only three marks healed in the present, so whoever is the last mark has to be one of these hoochies, and the more backstory I get, the more I think it's going to hurt when I find out who the last mark is.

Half these people have already died leading up to that big battle and the other half will die as homeboy sets out on his Kill Bill journey, so like . . .

"You and I have unfinished business"

*slams on the 'next' button*

[zodiyack]

Pregnancy (A drabble)

Pairings: Jace Wayland x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, pregnancy

Words: 526

Author's note: Just a little idea. I can make this a full fic / miniseries. Only Y/N and Clary have gone in to see Magnus in private.

Masterlist | The Mortal Instruments Masterlist

Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @fandom-puff, @darling-i-read it,  @simonsbluee,  @thewarriorprincessxo,  @sebastianstanslefteyebrow,  @livlaughquinn,  @bubsonnobx,  @bunnyweasley23

Magnus hesitates when he passes Y/N. His expression shifts to one of concern and curiosity. "I'm surprised you're here."

Her brows furrow. "I'm a Shadowhunter, of course I'm here."

"Not that." He chuckles. "Given your predicament, I wouldn't expect you to join them on this journey."

"Why's that?" She asks, genuinely curious.

Magnus looks at her with amusement, then hovers his hand over her stomach. "You're with child."

Clary gasps in place of Y/N, who is too in shock to even react.

"No- I'm not... I mean, I've been sick lately, just... I'm not pregnant." She shakes her head, in denial.

"Y/N, I may not like your kind, but I would not deceive you. You. Are. Pregnant. I recommend that you withdraw from any strenuous missions, avoid putting stress on you and your baby, as well as putting yourself in danger if you wish to keep your child." He orders her. The topic is simply dropped when he returns to Clary.

(After the fight with the vampires)

"You really shouldn't have come, after what Magnus told you?" Clary announces to the group, but directs to Y/N.

Y/N widens her eyes and whips her head in Clary's direction. "Don't."

Jace looks at the two in concern and tilts his head. "What did Magnus tell you?"

Clary opens her mouth to speak. Y/N quickly replies, warning the redhead. "Don't. It's not yours to tell."

Izzy and Alec look at each other with confusion, but wait for Jace to reply. "What did the warlock tell you, Y/N?"

"Do we really have to do this right now?"

Clary rolls her eyes and speaks up, "How long are you gonna hide the fact that you're pregnant? They'll notice eventually! I mean, what about Jace?"

The three's eyes all widen at the reveal. Jace looks upset, but Y/N is livid. Seeing her reaction, Alec's expression darkens and he steps forward.

"Even if that is a concern, it's none of your business, Clary." Her name drips with venom when it comes from his mouth. "You've been ogling Jace since you got here. Your jealousy cannot hide forever either."

"But- Jace, she lied to you!" Clary averts her gaze in shame when he doesn't acknowledge her.

"Alec is right. Though I'm upset Y/N hid it..." Jace looks toward her with a sorry nod, "I still wish it would've been her to tell me, especially since it's between us. I've tried to brush off your advances, but I suppose I must be blunt now. I plan to stay with Y/N and my unborn child. The fact that you've known of our relationship and continued to pursue me has made me question whether I want to train you or not."

It's Izzy's turn to step forward. "We can talk about this later. For now, we need to get back to the institute and put Simon in the infirmary."

"Yeah." It's the only word Y/N lets out before she walks past Clary, bumping her shoulder on the way. Jace follows, also ignoring Clary. The girl can only watch and realize how much she's hurt him.

[katuschka]

Usually Sexual

Josh Kiszka x male OC; a spontaneous little thing, inspired by "recent events" ;-)

2.3+ words This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers, so if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere. Warnings: oral sex, intense emotions and verbal fights, some violence if you squint, some voyeurism too, I guess. A few swear words here and there. Loud noises.

The song was haunting them for months. It started as a spontaneous jam at Jake’s house during one of their many after-dinner get-togethers. Later, they kept revisiting the theme on tour. There was just something to it. It felt like one of those tunes that had always been there in its own metaphysical existence, just hanging in the air, waiting for them to grab it and turn it into actual sound waves. It eventually evolved into a full-fledged composition and when Josh started humming to it and added his own melodic line on top, they thought it might be THE song: The song that you may manage to write just once in a lifetime, or never. Then, one evening in late January, Josh came to the studio with lyrics and it was then that they knew it was THE song. 

There was only one problem. Josh just couldn’t force himself to sing it the way he wanted to. It felt right when he wrote it. It sounded right when he was alone, sitting at his piano at home. But here, in front of the others, he felt completely naked. Bashful, even, which dumbfounded them all, but mostly himself. It was always either too forced, or insincere, or too timid. Unnatural. After six whole sessions filled with constant bickering, even Daniel was already losing his patience.

“I think that, maybeee, this is one of those cases when I should be alone in a soundbooth,” Josh said one day when it was increasingly obvious that their last session might end in a bloodbath. It was a legitimate suggestion, but they were already so used to recording the basics “live” to keep the sound natural and candid that his words just added more fuel to the fire. Danny just sighed, excused himself to take a leak and left the room. Sam opened another can of beer. Jake was livid. 

“Right Josh, but once we’re onstage, you won’t be able to crawl into a fucking soundbooth. What’s your plan? To sing it from your dressing room?”

They just didn’t get it. He was trying, really. But whenever he got to certain parts, certain words, certain notes, his throat constricted. He tried to explain it, multiple times, but even that fell flat, because how could he explain the meaning behind the words when he couldn’t open up about the feelings that inspired them. Only two people knew. One of them was not in the studio with them to support him, and the other one was seething, focused solely on the work they had to finish. At least Jake finally gave in and agreed to try it. 

Next day they played without Josh. They somehow managed to wrap up the instrumental part in just four hours. All it needed now was the closing guitar solo – already written – and, of course, the vocals. 

Josh arrived at the studio the next afternoon, outwardly calm and well rested, but still battling the same internal struggle. He holed up in the booth, put the headphones on, got ready, looked at the three faces behind the mixing console, and started singing. And it was a…disaster. Which subsequently led to a very loud and emotional verbal fight. 

“Just sing the fucking song, Josh! It’s not rocket science.” Jake really, really tried to stay calm and to stop himself from yelling, yet he failed miserably.

“Yeah, we don’t even know what the fuck it all means…,” Sam chimed in.

Jake cleared his throat, which made Sam roll his eyes in annoyance. Even now?

“...ok, so Jake here probably knows what it all means…”

“I do.”

“...’course you do, you fucker, but that’s not the point. Listen Josh, I understand that this is probably some kind of a confession or something, but could you just pull your head, or whatever else is there, out of your ass and…”

Sam knew he had crossed the line even before the bottle, previously resting in Josh’s hand, shattered against the wall right behind him,  just a few feet to his left. Josh stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him with a deafening blow. He didn’t return that day. Or the next. 

……………………

For several days, they barely spoke to one another. Then, one Tuesday night, during one of those early spring storms, Josh found himself sitting in an armchair in his dark, unlit room. Ha had spent the last two hours listening to the rain drumming on the tiles of his patio outside the sliding glass doors, trying to figure out what to do and how to find a solution to this “precarious situation”. No song was worth risking the relationship with his brothers. They had found themselves in similar situations many times before, but the current radio silence was a bit concerning. He knew what the song needed – the feral energy he hardly ever failed to muster onstage. See, Jake was wrong about this. He could imagine himself singing this song live just fine. This had somehow never been an issue in front of the audience. The untamed energy of thousands of adoring people often let him open to them, and to the world, with unaffected pleasure. He let them listen to him, to see him…to touch him…  And suddenly, he got an idea. 

……………………

Sam wasn’t sleeping yet, but seeing his brother’s name on a lit up phone screen annoyed the shit out of him all the same. 

“What?!” 

It was late, and he wasn’t in the mood to talk…to Josh, he certainly didn’t want to go out for a drink…with Josh, AND the very last thing he wanted was to talk about the fucking song again… so Josh’s suggestion that they should meet in the studio asap just made him see red. 

“Are you fucking kidding me? The studio’s not booked and everyone’s asleep. It’s nearly midnight, Josh!”

“Yeah…exactly, umm… That means the studio would be free and empty now, right? I’m sure it can be arranged. I think I got it, Sam! I…ummm, found a way to finish the fucking song. I need to try this one thing and I need your help. Pleeeease. And…I’m really sorry, Sam.” “Ok,” he sighed exasperatedly. Sam, too, was sick of the current situation, and if Josh thought that a night session with just the two of them, free of Jake’s scrutiny, would help, so be it. “I just need to make some phone calls. Meet you there in…90 minutes?”

“Perfect! Thank you.”

……………………

Eleven hours later

It was already almost noon when Jake and Daniel finally arrived with the coffee. Sam was still sitting behind the mixing console, having tried to add some more finishing touches to the mix before he felt it was ready to be presented to the other two. 

“So, what’s up? Why did you summon us here at this ungodly hour, oh ye little brother? You look like shit, by the way.” 

Jake was an ass, but he was right. Sam felt absolutely exhausted. He had spent the whole night at the studio, his eyes were bloodshot and his head was pounding. He had no energy to argue, he was hungry, and really just wanted to crawl in his bed and spend the next two days there. Maybe three. But he needed them to hear it first. 

“Well, I still need to work on this a bit, and you will need to add the solo, obviously, but we managed to record all the vocal parts tonight and the raw mix already sounds pretty good. Sounds great, actually…even though the ending might be a bit…unconventional.” 

They both looked at him in disbelief, but accepted the offered seats and urged him to continue. “Ok, let’s hear it,” Jake breathed out as he leaned in his chair.

When they finished listening, Daniel looked like a parent that should be scolding a naughty kid, but couldn’t because he was just trying not to laugh. Jake’s expression was unreadable. After at least thirty more seconds of complete silence, he finally spoke, his voice unnaturally calm, which only meant the storm was coming.

“And what the flying fuck was that?!?”

“Well, I think it was Josh sounding like…,” Daniel piped in, his voice muffled by his own hand. 

“I know fucking well what it sounded like! He’s my twin AND we lived together. No…no…nonono.” Jake stood up and was now pacing the room. 

Sam expected this kind of reaction. He was ready for it and he was also desperate to defend what they just heard. Because, above all, it was great. It was what they wanted…

“No, Sam, I didn’t want this. We cannot possibly release this. How did you even…? Was he jerking off in that booth or what?”

“Um, no, Thomas was here, too…”

Daniel spit out his coffee, barely missing the console, and Jake …Jake just had to sit down again. As soon as Danny stopped coughing, he looked at Sam, bit his lip and burst into uncontrollable fits of laughter. “Oh my god…but…I agree with you Sam. It sounds fucking great,” he wheezed out, eyes still filled with tears. 

……………………

Nine hours earlier 

When Sam arrived at the studio, Josh…and Tom … were already there. It took them a little while to convince Sam not to turn on his heel and run back home after they had explained what they intended to do, but now they were all good and ready in their respective workplaces; Sam sat behind the mixing table, Josh and Tom crammed together in the small vocal booth, both already shirtless. 

“So, what do you want me to do?” Tom asked as he positioned himself right behind Josh. He felt a bit unsure still, but was willing to try his best. 

“You know the song, you know it’s yours. I am your instrument now. Play me.”

And he did. Sam dimmed the lights and told them to get ready. Josh was supposed to sing the whole song all in one take. They would try again if necessary, but this was the general idea. No pauses. Tom got his own set of headphones and as soon as they heard the initial chords, he hugged Josh’s bare torso, letting his hands roam free, caressing him gently. And Josh started singing. And it was beautiful. When the initial awkwardness subsided, Tom leaned into his role completely and started placing subtle kisses on his lover’s neck, which Josh translated into even more haunting sounds. 

When he was about to hit one particularly difficult high note, Tom grabbed him by the elbows, pulled his arms up and slowly ran his palms up Josh’s forearms until he reached the wrists, crossed them and held them tight, high above their heads. He circled his fingers around Josh’s pulse points, while Josh wailed into the microphone, his face contorted with all the intense emotions that he hid in the words he wrote. Now he finally let it all out. It was exhilarating. Twenty feet farther, separated from them by two walls, Sam punched the air in silent victory. 

The very first take was already more than good, but they tried three more times – just in case – Josh and Tom doing their intimate little dance within the confines of the small soundbooth. 

“Ok, I think we’re good, that was really wonderful, Josh…but, time to wrap it up,” Sam’s voice finally pierced through the intercom. 

Josh wasn’t so sure. True, it was almost three in the morning and they were all already beyond tired, but this was worth a shot. He might not have another opportunity like this and if it didn’t work, they could still use one of the previous takes. They were satisfactory, yes, but even though he finally managed to convey the contents of his mind with his voice, this song was a matter of the heart…and – let’s be completely honest – cock. He needed more stimulation. 

“Hey, Sam, do you think we could try the last chorus one more time?”

“Just the last chorus?” 

“Yeah”

“Ok, just let me go grab some munchies first. Be right back.” 

Tom was leaning against the booth wall with his arms crossed, watching Josh apprehensively. He yawned and tried a few neck circles to relieve his tense muscles. “So what’s your plan now?” 

Josh didn’t meet his gaze at first. He was looking at nothing in particular, toying with his goatee like he always did when he was deep in thought. When he finally looked at him, he spoke in a whisper, but it was a demand nevertheless. “I want you to suck my dick.” Tom’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Josh, you can’t be serious. Sam’s here, and….your voice will shake. What’s the point?” 

“That’s exactly the point, Thomas. And Sam won’t be able to see you. Now come here, get ready,” he ordered as he pulled down his zipper.

By the time Samuel got back, Tom was already on his knees, crammed in a tight space between the front wall and Josh’s microphone, his hands clawing at Josh’s thighs and his mouth full. Josh was taking long, deep breaths, trying to be in control of the situation as they heard Sam’s voice through the intercom again. “Ok, Josh, I’m not playing the whole song again. We’re starting at 4:37. Ready?” “Yeah, ready, just leave it rolling till the end,” he breathed out. 

This was a new and exciting experience, and when he finished the last chorus and the bridge leading to the closing guitar solo part started playing, he could no longer control himself. Josh’s short, high pitched breathy moans filled the air during the bridge part and when they finally got to the rhythmic piano segment that served as a foundation for Jake’s – yet to be recorded – finishing solo and outro, he let out a long and melodic warcry and filled  Tom’s mouth with his warm seed. As requested, Sam was still recording.

……………………

@its-interesting-van-kleep @fleet-of-fiction @thewritingbeforesunrise @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @takenbythemadness @edgingthedarkness @writingcold @lvnterninthenight

[bl4z1ng-tr1ckz]

RUNAWAY GODKID AU: PART 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING FOR BLOOD AND/OR GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF BLOOD

Dev and Peri ended up in the Fairy Forest. While both of them were trying to get their bearings back, Dev's body grabbed his things and told him to run, so he did. Little did he know, Peri and the police weren’t the only ones on his tail…

Irep has been trying to track down the little traitor from the day he betrayed him. And now, he'd finally found him. With a new profound sense of rage, he grabbed his mace and teleported to the Fairy Forest. So, for Dev, he had to deal with one fairy trying to yell at him and absolutely berate him, and the other begging him to rethink what he was doing and come back home to talk.

Dev pulled on his hair in panic, tears streaming down his face as 7 months' worth of pressure finally started to break him. Everything he was hearing was just a bunch of jumbled words, like when you scribble in your school notes, or when you try to play an instrument or speak a language you don’t understand. Everything was a mess, and he just wanted it all to end and to shut everyone up and just disappear from this world-

Suddenly…Dev screamed in pain.

(TW: BLOOD)

Irep actually threw his mace at Dev out of unreasonable anger. And it stabbed the boy right in the side. He felt his vision blur and body collapse as that disgusting smell filled his senses. He could see the bloody mace, and the blood pouring out of his body. It was horrifying, as it formed a small puddle underneath him. He faintly heard Irep's desperate pleas and apologies, and Peri?

Peri was LIVID. Dev doubted he'd ever heard Peri scream the way he did. Immediately, Jorgen appeared on the scene, and also started tearing into Irep about hurting a godkid and putting his life at risk. It was faint, but Dev could hear it. He could hear all of it. His vision blurred even more and Dev fell unconscious. All he knows is that the last thing he saw was his own red…

(WOO okay thank you all so much for the support on this AU! Sorry this had to take such a dark turn. It gets better, I promise /lh -🔥)

[caynesugar]

my personal durgetash hcs

(this’ll prolly be a part one, i’ve got a lot of these stored in the ol’ cayne-brain™️ (these are sfw!))

• i’m completely on board with the idea enver secretly craves attention that a parent would provide; what he’s desired for a very, very long while. he’s done what he thought best to cover his tracks, but once that shell gets cracked, it’s open for good. small gestures like durge cooking dinner w/o the help of servants are of particular interest to him; they make him melt.

• gods, enver needs an open ear. someone to hear him out. someone to listen to his tinkerer ramblings and bounce ideas off of. a lazy evening of small, but ever-important exchanges between him and durge as they count hours away in his office. it wouldn’t matter what he was working on, durge would give their own perspective if asked as a throwaway question. so menial but so huge.

• enver can be explosive at times; durge douses him. sometimes, when away from prying eyes, enver can allow his frustration to get the better of him- the cool, confident attitude he exudes is a coverup, that steam needs to escape sometimes. him beginning to crease his brow in lividity just as durge grabs hold of his rough, calloused hands like a lifeline. who knows what those hands could do. nothing to benefit enver. so they hold his hands until his tenseness recedes; his gritted teeth unclenching themselves. and all is well.

• that ornamental piano in enver’s office?? yeah?? yeah?? has anyone mentioned that before? i am. flakes of blood still linger on its keys. unclear finger/clawprints stamped in sanguine. perhaps durge had once known how to play, perhaps they simply wanted to fool around with such an elaborate instrument. enver daren’t clean the keys. it was a reminder to show that durge was sweet, once.

• dusk along the ramparts: a treasure for them both. i imagine it was the location of their first actually loving kiss. enver lazily flicking a haughty cigar in his hand, taking a drag as he breathes in the lights of his city. it stirred a rather sudden, impulsive sense of passion within him. this moment was too good to be celebrated alone, and just a foot away was durge, basking in enver’s secondhand and watching the sea. a pivot, a drop of the cigar, and a gentle cupping of his ally’s face. his nearest and dearest. his favorite. a rather chaste seal, but one that lasted seemingly until dawn. the feeling of it, anyway.

[purple-scrunchie]

Heathers Headcanons that Live Rent-Free in my Brain

(Some of these are new, some have been rotting in my notes app since January lol also LONGPOST WARNING up ahead.)

Veronica:

Was also a wolf kid (iykyk), wore those dog ear headbands to school from the middle of 3rd to the beginning of 5th grade

Has a pet corn snake named Cornelius. She's had him since she was 12 and loves him dearly

Can't even be trusted with a toaster in the kitchen, can and will find a way to set something on fire

Her favorite movie series is Indiana Jones. She loves the thril of the action scenes and the concept of carefree adventuring

Fucking unstoppable at just dance. She wins by a landslide every time

Had one of those giant picture encyclopedias as a kid

Despite spending so much time journaling and studying people's handwriting, hers is still a mesy disaster (this annoys Chandler to no end)

Likes to doodle in her journal too

has been journaling almost every day since she was 8. She keeps all of her old finished journals in a locked box under her bed

Loves making friendship bracelets for everybody she appreciates

Was absolutely a band kid. She played trumpet but quit sophomore year because she couldn’t stand Kurt and Ram anymore (they were just there to get some elective credits in)

Heather Chandler:

Hates everyone except her favorite three people (Duke, Mac, and Ronnie) And sometimes even them

Gets fucking livid when people touch her stuff without asking (this includes Veronica)

Especially if you touch her hair/skincare stuff (which is one of those 989,752,300 step process ones)

If she doesn’t get her beauty sleep, she’s even more of a megabitch than usual

Super protective of her friends and loyal to a fault. Once you're in her inner circle, there's no escape

Speaks french fluently

Most of the time she spends with her parents is on the whole-summer trips to France they drag her on. She despises these with a burning passion

Learned how to paint in France, and she's gotten pretty good at it over the years

Has gorgeous, looping cursive handwriting and insists on writing everything in red ballpoint pen. (Her teachers hate this)

Almost always has really vivid lucid dreams. She writes them down in a dream log and they’re her main artistic inspiration

Secretly loves Romance novels. Will read them and giggle like an excited 12-year-old when she's alone

Heather McNamara:

Was super clumsy before she started cheer. It’s definitely not as bad as before, but it’s still there. She’ll still trip over her own feet sometimes

Lactose intolerant, but her favorite drink is milk

Loves to click her pens in class

Goes through chewing gum at frightening speeds (think a pack or more a day)

Is really close to her dad

Whenever her dad goes on a business trip, he brings her a new hair ribbon. She keeps them all in a drawer in her nightstand.

Was the biggest horse girl as a kid

Will still happily talk about horses for hours

Loves astrology even more. Her dad cuts out the horoscope section of the daily paper for her and she keeps them filed away by date and season

Loves to read her friends their horoscopes

Definitely has a million constellation/planet charts all over her walls

If it doesn't have mustard on it, she won't eat it

Carries around a bottle of spicy mustard for this exact reason

Heather Duke:

Literally like 5'0 (152.5 cm)

Will not be caught dead without her heels on

Has two younger siblings, Hunter (12) and Hannah (also 12, they’re twins)

Has a black cat named Gatsby

Gatsby loves to curl up on her neck when she reads, and she’ll absentmindedly scratch behind his ears

Her parents forced her to play the piano from like 1st grade onwards. She has the skills of a concert pianist but hates the instrument with a burning passion

Her car is a 1980 Jeep CJ5

Secretly really likes cars. Will talk to McNamara about cars while McNamara reads her horoscope

Loves to fix her friends' cars

DESPISES condiments. She believes that if you can't eat it plain, it's not worth eating. (the exception to this is hotsauce lol)

Has a bunch of cute stationary and study materials (y'know, all the glittery gel pens and color-coded sticky notes) but uses them for the dumbest things

JD:

5’10 and still growing

Was really into dinosaurs when he was younger. He still has a collection of little plastic ones in his room that he sometimes (though he’d never admit it) gets out and plays with

Cooking shows are his guilty pleasure. He fucking loves being in the kitchen, it’s almost as safe to him as a 7/11

He cooks as a form of self-expression

Loves to bake too, will make things for his friends

Tried to make Chandler an apology cake one time (which did NOT end well for either of them)

One of his most prized possessions is the blue and black friendship bracelet Veronica made for him when they met. He wears the damn thing everywhere and it’s getting beat up

Loves to take walks alone in the dark or the rain. He thinks it’s nice and peaceful

Constantly losing pens. Was it the trenchcoat's fault? Probably. Will he get out of the trenchcoat? Absolutely not.

Hope you found some you enjoy lol, PLEASE feel free to add on/tell me your own/send requests for more!

[laurel-finch]

'I Don't Bite' S1.Ch16: God's Instrument

Summary: A brief calm before the storm... Referenced Episodes: S1 E20 "Dead Man's Blood" CW: John Winchester being an asshole (per usual). Word Count: 6163 words. Recommended Song: Learning to Fly -- Pink Floyd Previous Chapter -- Masterlist -- Next Chapter

I wished I had asked to ride with the brothers. I wished I hadn't driven my damn truck. I was so tired of driving, and I was sure I was missing something crucial by not being in the car with them. Were they discussing the vampires? Or maybe their father? Who the fuck knows. I certainly didn't.

I pouted in my seat, mulling over what little I knew of the case so far. Some old hunter named Elkins had been killed by a group of vampires – a coven, I thought. Stupid name. Made me think of something a bunch of goth teenagers would call themselves. Though if the movies held any fact, vampires were just a bunch of goths.

Despite the sun bearing down on me and warming the entire of my old rust-bucket truck, I felt like I could fall asleep at any moment. To be fair, I had been awake for, what, thirty hours now? God, I couldn't wait to get to sleep.

My eyes snapped open as the Impala roared to life and flashed forward, swerving in front of John's glossy pickup. It screeched to a halt and Sam stormed out of the driver's side door not even a second after putting the car in park.

I pulled off the road, out of the way of any passing cars. Not that it mattered, as the boys and their father had effectively taken up three-quarters of the road. The door protested as I thrust it open and strode towards the quarreling Winchesters.

"We need to talk," Sam shouted across the road to his father, who was just stepping out of his vehicle. Sam looked absolutely livid, his hands balled into tight fists. Dean looked visibly annoyed behind him, although clearly more so at his brother than his father.

"About what?" John hissed out and stopped in front of Sam, nose to nose with his taller son.

Sam sneered and gestured wildly. "About everything. Where are we going, Dad? What's the big deal about this gun? How do you know it can kill the demon?"

Dean placed his hand on Sam's shoulder and his younger brother roughly shoved him off. He scowled. "Sammy, come on, we can Q-and-A after we kill all the vampires."

"Your brother's right, we don't have time for this," John added. I frowned. There was always time to discuss what was going on - the boys had a right to know.

"John, you can't keep them in the dark," I offered, keeping my tone as polite as possible. His eyes snapped to mine, holding a furious look in them that made my skin crawl. "We have as much right to know what's going on as you do."

John glared daggers at me and I squared my shoulders, standing my ground. Maybe we had been the wrong word. I hated that he thought that look would get him anywhere with me. I wasn't his sons, I couldn't be ordered around like a soldier.

"Last time we saw you, you said it was too dangerous for us to be together. Now out of the blue, you need our help," Sam shouted angrily, pointing an accusing finger at his father. "Now obviously something big is going down, and we wanna know what!" I winced. Sam's aggression wasn't going to get him anywhere with John. It was like talking to a brick wall that could punch you.

John's hands curled into fists and he glared ferociously at his youngest son. "Get back in the car," he finally ordered, his tone low and icy, thick with malice.

Sam snorted as though it was some joke. "No," he sneered, his tone equally as dangerous. My eyes widened in shock. I had never heard the boys talk back to their father, and I had never expected to see it. They had been so happy to reunite with him again, and now suddenly it was crumbling.

I glanced towards Dean, whose green eyes were just as wide. They quickly narrowed with annoyance and frustration. I sidled over to him and placed my hand gently on his upper arm reassuringly. Thankfully, he didn't shrug me off as Sam had done to him.

"I said get back in the damn car," John ordered, his voice rising with increasing anger.

"And I said no!" Sam shouted, moving to take a step towards his father. In a flash, Dean was between them, his hand placed on Sam's chest and pushing him back.

"Alright, you’ve made your point, tough guy," he growled out, glaring at his father and younger brother. "Look, we're all tired, we can talk about this later. Sammy, I mean it, come on." He flashed Sam a meaningful look and gave him one last shove in the direction of the Impala.

Sam held his father's stare for another few seconds and then turned away, eyes focused on the ground and fists curling and uncurling in rage. "This is why I left in the first place," he grumbled.

My eyes snapped open. I had heard very little of why Sam had left the family and gone to college. Frankly, I thought it wasn't any of my business. I knew Sam and his father had gotten into an argument, but I never knew the extent of it.

My eyes shifted to John, who looked stricken and utterly appalled. His eyes narrowed quickly and he ground his teeth together. "What'd you say?"

Oh, fuck.

Sam spun on his heels and snarled at his father. If looks could kill, John would have been in pieces. "You heard me," he snapped.

"Yeah," said John as he took a few long strides towards Sam. "You left. Your brother and me, we needed you. You walked away, Sam," he spoke, his words dripping with hurt and pent-up anger. "You walked away!"

I winced at Dean's pitiful attempts to separate the both of them, his words being drowned out by their argument. We didn't have time for this – there was a case at hand, and if we didn't hurry up, those vamps might attack more people.

"You're the one who said don't come back Dad, you closed that door, not me!" Sam retorted, taking a step closer to his father, "You were just pissed off that you couldn't control me anymore!"

John lunged forward and reached for Sam's shirt. In a flash, I dove between them and reflexively pushed them apart, my strength sending them backward and sprawled across the road. "That's enough!" I shouted fists clenched in frustration. "Both of you, get back to your cars. We'll discuss this civilly after we work this case." I growled out, casting glares between the two men. "I refuse to put up with your petty bullshit when there are lives on the line. You can sort out your feelings later."

The two men fell silent, glaring heatedly at each other, and looking as though they still had spiteful words they wanted to share. "Get in your cars now," I hissed out, tone low and threatening. I turned my head to glare down at John, whose eyes held an air of disobedience that drew a shiver of anger down my spine. "Go," I snarled.

I held John's glare for a few moments until he finally stood. He brushed off his clothes and cast me one last suspicious look before turning back towards his truck without a word. I wheeled slowly on Sam, who was being pulled to his feet by his brother.

"I don't care what kind of argument you and your dad had in the past," I said coldly. "Now is not the time to be discussing it. Get your shit together so we can solve this case," I spat and turned on my heels, storming back to my truck.

The truck groaned softly as I changed gears and followed John down the highway, the brothers not far behind me. I tapped my fingers loudly against the side of the wheel in irritation, deep in thought. I couldn't help but wonder why Sam felt that now was the time to act out. Sure, I could understand it – even I disliked the fact that John thought he could immediately take over and that anyone would follow him without question.

It seemed to me that John was borderline narcissistic, although clearly unintentionally. He cared a lot for his sons, that much was clear, but he had a funny way of showing it. Treating your companions as soldiers was never the way to garner respect.

But on the flip side, it was selfish for Sam to resume this argument now of all times. I could see why John was so frustrated – we were finally one step closer to getting revenge, and his son, who he thought would have his back, was now challenging his authority.

I could understand the desire for revenge. Hell, I felt it when I discovered that my uncle was murdered by a wraith. I still felt it.

The Winchester family was a mess.

I sighed and gripped the wheel tighter, my eyes following John's truck as it weaved down the road. Finally, he flashed his right turn signal and darted off to the right, down an exit road that would presumably lead back to town. I followed closely behind.

The road was starting to blur when John finally halted in front of a shabby-looking building, the motel sign flashing dimly above the roof. "Thank God," I mumbled to myself as I pulled into a parking space beside his truck. Moments later, the Impala came roaring around the corner and screeched to a halt beside my truck. I winced at the sound of the tires squealing.

I pushed my door open and slid out, wincing at the prickling sensation in my feet. My muscles felt stiff from the long day of driving, just as I had anticipated. I pulled the keys from the ignition and dug around in the back seat for my bag.

The sound of footsteps drew my attention and I turned to face Sam, a tired scowl on his face. "You wanna stay in our room, or get your own?" he asked bluntly.

I turned away from him and fished my backpack off the floor, swinging it over my shoulder. "I'll get my own room. Don't think your dad would be too happy about me crashing with you." Sam scoffed and spun on his heels without another word. I rolled my eyes; he was acting like a child.

I ignored John's gaze as I marched past him to the main office. I could feel him glaring daggers into my back as I walked. Sure, I understood why he was mad – I interrupted a family argument that I likely had no place taking part in. Didn't help that I was sure he still didn't quite trust me...

My mind raced as I thought of my actions this evening. It was stupid of me to get between them, to shove Sam and John apart. Of course he looked at me suspiciously, I practically threw both of them! I cast a nervous glance over my shoulder, only to find John had disappeared, along with the boys.

I needed to be more careful.

The main office of the motel was quite nice and well put together. Lights cast a golden glow around the room, but they weren't so bright as to be obnoxious. The room had a tasteful color scheme, cream with light brown accents, and the occasional large fake plant was scattered around. I hoped the actual motel rooms would be just as pleasant.

The woman at the front desk had a cigarette between her garishly red lips, the lipstick staining the shaft. She held a magazine in her hands and her eyes, covered in heavy blue eyeshadow, darted across the page.

Her eyes flitted up to meet mine as my heavy boots padded across the linoleum floor. Her eyes went wide and her jaw slackened, the cigarette hanging loosely between her red lips. It took me several seconds to realize what a mess I must look like, covered in bruises and scrapes. She hurriedly put her magazine aside and turned her attention toward me.

"What can I do for you, honey?" she asked sweetly. "Do you need a room?"

I nodded and flashed her the sweetest smile I could muster, hoping it would make up for my unsightly features. "Yes, please. One bed," I said, handing her my credit card.

She nodded and filled out her ledger. She glanced at me one last time, her brown eyes scanning my face nervously, and then handed me a room key. "Room 105, in front of the parking lot. You can pay when you check out." I smiled again and thanked her before spinning on my heels and walking back out the door, her eyes boring into me as I went.

Thankfully, room 105 wasn't far from the main office. In fact, it was only a few doors down from Sam and Dean, and supposedly their father. I assumed John was in a separate room, but close by. He was always close by.

The room was small and undecorated, but cozy, with a small kitchenette and bathroom. I left the door open a crack, as I didn't plan to stay long.

I dumped my bag on the bed, rummaging through it. Finally, I drew my hairbrush from it and a small pack of makeup. I rarely used makeup, it just wasn't something I thought about, but for cases where we needed to look professional, it wasn't a bad idea. I hummed in delight, knowing I could finally make myself look presentable.

I froze when I saw myself in the bathroom mirror. I really hadn't expected it to look that bad. My jaw was decorated with various bruises, ranging from deep blue in the center and fanning out to greenish-yellow. My eye didn't look much better, the skin around the socket nearly purple with tinges of red. My nose, although corrected and back in its usual place, was scuffed, with deep but short cuts along the bridge. My lip was split, although not severely enough for it to sting every time I wet my lips.

I frowned at my reflection. No amount of concealer would be able to cover this up entirely. I sighed and ran the brush through my hair, starting at the ends and working my way up. It was knotted, and in some spots matted.

I looked like someone had repeatedly hit me with a baseball bat.

My hair was a nightmare to tame, though I did eventually manage to get it back to its normal state. I stared at my face, not even sure where to start. I leaned forward, placed my hands on the countertop, and inspected each bruise.

"Need some help?" I heard a voice from the doorway and I jumped, stumbling back until my heels hit the rim of the tub. In the doorway stood Dean, smirking confidently and leaning against the door frame.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, hoping I didn't sound cruel.

His smirk dropped and he buried his hands deep into his pockets, a dejected expression on his face. "Don't exactly want to be around dad or Sam right now. Didn't know where else to go and, well... your door was open." He reached up to scratch the back of his neck nervously. "I can leave if-"

"No!" I exclaimed, throwing my hands up, "No, it's alright. I don't mind you being here, honestly." He smiled lazily in response and then cleared his throat, gesturing at the sparse makeup supplies on the counter.

"So... you need any help?" he questioned. I crossed my arms and smirked.

"Do you know how to do makeup?" I asked, a teasing note in my voice. The tips of Dean's ears flushed and that confident smirk quickly returned.

"Can't be too difficult," he replied. "You just smear it on, right?"

I chuckled at his cluelessness. "Something like that," I teased, though it was very clear by my tone that there was a lot more to it than that. I took a few steps towards the counter and reached for a washcloth, wetting it and gently dragging it down my cheeks. "Honestly, I should probably take a shower. I took one before I left the house, but it's been, what, almost twenty-four hours since then?" I dabbed the cloth under my eye and winced as the soft fabric made contact with the damaged skin.

Dean hummed in response as his fingers ran over the various makeup items. I hadn't bothered to bring anything too big with me. A few small brushes, some blush, and concealer, but that was about it. He lifted a brush and inspected it. "I don't know why you brought any of this," he muttered.

My hand stopped its circling motions, the towel coming to a halt on my cheek. My eyes drifted towards his relaxed reflection and his veridian eyes met mine. "What?" I asked, hoping he would clarify.

"You don't need it," he added, his eyes never leaving the mirror, and subsequently mine. "You always look good, even without it."

I couldn't help but blush, my eyes dropping to the sink as I ran the cloth under the water again. "Yeah, maybe normally I do," I mumbled. "But right now..."

"You look beautiful," he interjected. I stiffened, the warm water running down my fingers and spilling into the sink. "Makes you look tough." If I hadn't been blushing before, I certainly was now, the pink likely complementing the red bruises around my eye. Dean placed the brush back on the counter and turned his eyes away from my reflection and towards me. "What happened anyway?"

It took me a few seconds to respond while I continued to run the cloth under the water. Beautiful. In what reality? "Got into a fight," I began. "With Caeden. Nothing much." I regretted saying it as soon as I did. There was more than I was letting on, and there was no doubt he knew that.

Dean jumped to his feet in a hurry and leaned toward me. "What d'you mean you got into a fight with Caeden? He attack you or something?"

"No, nothing like that," I replied, finally shutting the water off. "Just a sparring match gone wrong."

Dean fell silent, inspecting my profile. I refused to look at him – if I did, I was sure he would know that there was more to the story. Truthfully, I wasn't even sure why I was hiding it from him. Maybe because I didn't want him to worry? Hell, the last time I told him something when even I didn't know the full story, he was ready to go apeshit on a few whispers.

"You know, you've got a limp," he finally said, his tone serious. "I noticed it as soon as you got out of your truck today."

"It's really nothing, Dean," I said, trying not to sound desperate. "I'm fine."

"Like hell you are," he grumbled. I winced at his tone. I almost would have felt better if he had yelled at me, called me an idiot for getting hurt. "You look like you got run over by a bulldozer, sweetheart," he growled out.

"And yet I'm still beautiful?" I hissed out. "Which is it, Dean? Am I beautiful, or am I a mess?" The room was silent, save for the occasional drop of water from the soaked towel hitting the counter.

I yelped as I was suddenly lifted in the air, large hands gripping my waist. Dean sat me down gently on the countertop and reached for the washcloth, his fingertips brushing over the back of my hand. "What you are," he said as he gently ran the cloth over my cheek, "is stubborn."

I frowned and placed my hands on my knees, glaring at him. "How so?"

His green eyes flickered to mine for a split second and then immediately darted back to my various bruises. "I know there's something you're not telling me," he retorted. "I just don't know what- or why." I froze, panic gripping my lungs like talons, squeezing the air out in a split second. I fell silent. Dean continued his silent ministrations, paying special attention to my hairline and just in front of my ears where I was sure to have missed spots of blood.

"You know," he began, "I'm a bit worried about dad." At this I lifted a brow and flickered my eyes to his, expecting him to continue. "He... I think he might be on to you."

I stiffened and gripped his wrist, stopping his movements. "And you only thought to tell me this now!?" I hissed out. Dean's eyes went wide and then quickly narrowed.

"Well I haven't exactly had much time to talk to you," he spat. He pouted briefly and turned my head to the side slightly, dragging the cloth slowly down my neck. "He was asking about you yesterday after you hung up the phone on him. Asking what we knew about you, where you came from, your hunting experience."

"Shit," I mumbled out, casting my gaze downward. Dean hummed quietly.

"You throwing him today probably didn't help," he added. I rolled my eyes and watched him. His gaze was focused and his lips drawn tightly together in thought. I had to admit, it was a nice view. It dawned on me then that Dean was probably just as exhausted as I was, although likely for entirely different reasons. Who wouldn't be tired after having to deal with their quarreling brother and father all day?

Dean took a step back to inspect my bruises, eyebrows drawn together in thought. "Alright," he said. "I think I got it all. Now let's see if I can figure out this makeup." A grin spread across my features as he fumbled with the brushes, unsure of which one to grab. I pointed to the concealer by his hand and he quickly snatched it. "Why are you even putting makeup on? Aren't you going to go to bed?"

I chuckled softly and kicked my legs softly, my heels hitting the counter. "I was thinking about getting some food first. Dried gas station jerky can only get you so far, you know?"

Dean laughed and ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it up slightly. My eyes followed his motions and settled on his face as his hand fell. So many freckles, I thought. I could probably spend days counting them.

"When was the last time you ate a real meal?" Dean asked, unscrewing the cap on the liquid concealer. I giggled at his shocked expression when he realized it had a small brush on the end.

"Probably breakfast, yesterday?" I responded, failing to keep the questioning tone out of my voice. "It really depends – do you consider jerky and Oreos to be a meal?"

Dean laughed and lifted my head, pinching my chin lightly between his thumb and forefinger. "An emergency meal, maybe."

I shrugged. "Well, it was an emergency. And I've got a few Oreos left in the package. Maybe I can have that for dinner," I teased.

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Dean grumbled and smeared a glob of concealer across my cheek.

I grimaced and gripped his wrist in my hand. "Not that much," I said. He frowned and reached to wipe some off with his thumb, but I caught his other wrist. "Take a washcloth and spread it gently," I added, reaching for a dry cloth at the end of the counter. "Like this," I said, demonstrating on my own cheek. His eyes followed my movements and he nodded, taking the cloth from me.

I fell silent as he did his best to apply it. I watched him while he worked, smiling slightly each time his expression changed. He had a tendency to poke the inside of his cheek with his tongue when he was focused - it amazed me how intent he was on making it look right.

Finally, he took a step back and gave my face one last inspection before nodding. "I think I did it," he said, looking pretty pleased with himself. I lifted a teasing brow and hopped down from the counter, spinning on my heels to inspect his work.

He really hadn't done a bad job; maybe it was applied a bit too thick here or there, but overall it looked clean. The bruises were still apparent under the makeup, but not until you were close enough to get a clear look.

I grinned widely and turned to face him, nodding excitedly. His own eyes widened in excitement and he smirked. "See? Told you I knew how to do it."

I laughed and grinned happily at him. "I should have never doubted you, Winchester." His smirk widened with confidence, and I reached to take the cloth from him, dabbing softly at a few spots that needed some correction. I looked like a new woman. I smiled at his reflection in the mirror. "You ready to go to dinner?"

—

The vampire's den was a shabby old barn that looked as though it would fall apart in a strong gust of wind. The Winchesters and I watched as a beaten old Camaro pulled up to the barn doors where another vampire stood watching.

The vampire in the doorway ushered his companion in, a clear argument commencing between them. From this distance, I couldn't hear them. It bothered me, to say the least.

"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered to my side. "So they're really not afraid of the sun?"

John shook his head. "Direct sunlight hurts like a nasty sunburn. The only way to kill 'em is by beheading. And yeah, they sleep during the day - doesn't mean they won't wake up." I frowned in thought; surely there had to be more to them than just that. Knowing that there was a monster out there that I didn't understand made my skin crawl. I prided myself in my knowledge of monsters, and yet even I had believed they were extinct.

"So I guess walking in's not our best option," Dean joked with a soft chuckle. John laughed.

"Actually, that's the plan," John replied. Three heads snapped to him, and utter shock filled my eyes. John motioned for the group to stand, and the boys followed him to his weapons cache. I marched towards  my pickup, feeling resolute. At least I knew one thing that could kill them.

I flipped a latch just behind the passenger's seat and pushed the bench seat upwards, revealing the stash of weapons underneath. The lock was rusty and stiff, but luckily still kept everything in place.

"Hey Dad, I've got an extra machete if you need one," Dean called.

John laughed and held up his own, a nasty-looking blade with a serrated edge. "I think I'm good." Dean's jaw dropped, an awestruck and giddy look on his face. I rolled my eyes. Of course, he would geek out over a cool knife. "So you boys really want to know about this Colt?" John asked.

"Yes sir," Sam called back as he rifled through the weapons in the back of the Impala. I listened intently as I sorted through my uncle’s mess of equipment for suitable weapons.

"It's just a story, a legend really. Well, I thought it was. Never really believed it until I read Daniel's letter..." his voice faded off wistfully. He shook his head and picked up the story again. "Back in 1835, when Halley's comet was overhead, the same night those men died at the Alamo, they say Samuel Colt made a gun. A special gun, like uh- an instrument of God, I think he called it. He made it for a hunter, a man like us only on horseback. Story goes he made thirteen bullets, and this hunter used the gun a half dozen times before he disappeared, the gun along with him. And somehow Daniel got his hands on it." John sighed as he ran a rag over his machete blade. "They say... they say this gun can kill anything." A shiver ran down my spine. A gun that could kill anything... John had mentioned it yesterday in passing, but to know the legend... made it seem all the more real.

I had never been afraid of most man-made weapons until that moment. Guns had never bothered me in the past, unless it carried silver in its cartridge. But now... There had to be something this gun couldn't kill. If not, then this thing truly was the embodiment of the wrath of God.

"Kill anything, like, supernatural anything?" Dean questioned.

"Like the demon?" Sam added.

John nodded. "Yeah, the demon. Ever since I picked up its trail I've been looking for a way to destroy that thing. Find the gun – we may have it."

I shook my head in disbelief. Everything was changing so quickly. First the pack, then my barrier... I thought I had overcome that, but now... I couldn't even make contact with my instinctive side, and it felt like it was vastly out of my control anytime I did shift.

And now this gun.

I suddenly had so much to worry about, so much to fear. What if I could never access my paws like I had been able to in the past? And what about the whispers?

It was a firm possibility that maybe I was just going nuts. I wished that were the case, but it couldn't be. Crazed whispers don't lead you around.

"Hey!" Sam called my name from the other side of the Impala, peeking his head around. "You ready to go?"

I reached for the belt I had been loading with supplies. A gun, just in case, with an extra magazine of bullets, several knives, including a silver one, and a machete, strapped to my waist. I hooked the belt around my waist and looked over my supplies. After making sure everything was there, I nodded to Sam and followed the Winchesters down the hill and towards the nest of vampires.

John led us to the side of the barn where a large window was latched. He quietly broke the latch and opened the window, allowing cascades of light to filter into the barn. With one last glance over his shoulder, he slipped into the room. Dean followed close behind, then Sam, and then finally me. My boots hit the straw floor with a dull thump.

John had already disappeared into the shadows, intent on his search for the Colt, as he had called it. My eyes surveyed the large room, taking it in.

The vampires, to my surprise, slept in hammocks. I had half expected them to sleep upside down, like in the movies. One side of the room was packed with sleeping vamps, their limbs strewn awkwardly over the sides of the net hammocks, gentle snores coming from the odd comatose body. To the right was a small bar with several empty bottles of jack littered across the countertop.

A particularly loud snore came from my left and I stiffened, instinctively reaching for my machete handle. Thankfully, the monster didn't wake up.

The monster. It was strange how quickly I began to see them as the enemy, despite being just like them. But then again, I didn't kidnap young couples.

A soft clinking caught my attention and I whipped my head to a fallen bottle, next to Dean's foot. He winced and glanced nervously at a sleeping vampire. The vampire didn't wake. I held back a sigh of relief and moved away from the sleeping vamps, toward the mini-bar.

The bar was full of alcohol and reeked of bloody, poorly made margaritas. I wrinkled my nose in disgust, having never enjoyed the pungent smell of alcohol, especially not when mixed with blood. I whirled around, eyes scanning my surroundings and looking for anything that could possibly give a hint at what had happened to the humans.

"Dean," Sam whispered from down the hall. My ears pricked – they must have found them. I walked slowly around the countertop, making my way towards the sound of Sam's voice.

"There's more of them," Dean whispered back. raised my eyebrows in surprise. More humans? How many more?

The hallway was dark and lined with various doors. The smell of vampires dampened the scent of the boys. I hoped I would never have to smell another vampire after this. They smelled like an off mix of life and decay, like the sickly-sweet aroma of life could possibly mask the stench of rot. I cast a glance over my shoulder at the sleeping vamps. They didn't look to be rotting. Maybe it just came with the title of 'undead.'

Suddenly, someone screamed, a feral, rage-filled noise. I jumped and reached for my machete, drawing it from its sheath. Too late, the vampires were beginning to stir.

"Sam!" Dean shouted, grabbing his brother by the arm and dragging his brother down the hallway towards me. I waved them over, machete held high in defense.

"Go!" I shouted, ushering them past and following them. I heard a crash from behind me, like the sound of breaking glass, and John's muffled voice. Spinning on my heels, I stopped beside the door. "John, come on!" I screamed, holding my blade high as I charged back towards the hallway.

"What are you doing!?" Dean shouted as he burst through the barn doors and into the sunlight. I waved him away and raised my blade at the flock of angry vampires.

"I've got this, Dean, just go!" I shouted back, hoping he would listen and run with Sam back to the cars. The sound of footsteps pounding up the hillside told me they did. I sprinted towards the hallway and was stopped by an arm linking around my waist and throwing me backward. I snarled as I was thrown to the ground and quickly leaped to my feet.

The vampires had formed a loose circle around me, blocking the exit. A hiss drew my attention and my eyes flitted back towards the vamps, gauging me with angry, but unsure eyes. I snarled and sidestepped, taking a few steps closer to where I had heard John's voice.

A vampire lunged forward, reached to grab my arm, and drag me into the throng. I swung wildly with my blade, cutting through the bloodsucker's forearm. It hissed and lept back, clutching its arm. I snarled through gritted teeth and pounced towards the vampires blocking my route to John.

The vampires stepped back, wary looks in their eyes. I spun and swung my blade at vampires that were approaching from behind. The vampires glanced between each other and wrinkled their noses in disgust.

"You're not human," one grumbled out lowly, and I recognized him as the vampire that had driven the Camaro earlier that day. "What the hell are you?" I grimaced and bared my teeth at the vamp, hissing quietly.

I heard John shout my name as he burst out of the room, two vampires hot on his trail and a machete clutched tight in his hand. No gun. "Go!" He shouted, spinning to face the vampires with a machete in hand.

I charged forward and swung at the row of vamps blocking me from John. Those that didn't spring out of my way received deep cuts to their abdomens. I reached forward and gripped John by his coat sleeve, dragging him with me. Together, we raced towards the barn doors, a horde of vampires chasing us as we went.

Warm sunlight beat down onto our backs, and still, we didn't stop, panting as we crested the hill and the cars came into view.

"Dad!" Dean called out. "Dad, are you alright!?" John nodded and waved his son away, placing his hands on his knees and panting heavily.

"I'm fine too, thanks for asking," I sassed, slipping my machete into its sheath and leaning against the hood of the Impala.

Dean glared over his shoulder and rounded on me, a furious glare on his face. "That was stupid of you!" he shouted. "You could have been killed!"

"Lay off, Dean," John wheezed. He stood to his full height, albeit a bit shaky. "She did good," he said with a small nod in my direction. John sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "They won't follow. They'll wait till tonight. Once a vampire has your scent, it's for life."

I stiffened, my nails digging into the black chrome paint beneath my hands. Sam scowled and leaned against the car next to me. "Then what do we do now?" he asked, his voice gruff with uncertainty.

John chuckled morbidly and his eyes settled on me, a deep scowl on his worry-lined features. "You gotta find the nearest funeral home, that's what."

I groaned and placed my face in my hands. "I shouldn't have agreed to come on this stupid hunt."

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Legato, Meryl, and Devotion

When first reading, I was struck by the similarities in these two scenes, especially since they are shown so closely together – one at the end of Volume 13, the other at the beginning of 14.

[ID: Two screenshots from Trigun Maximum. The first is from Volume 13. Legato rushes over to a prone Knives, who is practically torn in half. He cries as he desperately tries to gather his insides up with his hands. The second is from Volume 14. Meryl holds the hand of a prone Vash, still holding his gun, and leans her head against it, tears in her eyes. She says "It's okay... you don't have to carry everything on your own. We're in this fight together. Please never forget that." Livio, Milly, and a man from the Earth Federation are in the background. End ID.]

The Independent, severely wounded, is seen by the person who steadfastly and strongly believes in them, devoted to their ideals and persons. The devoted party begins to shed tears over the state of the person they believe in so strongly, while holding them in their hands.

Of course, there are significant differences in the reactions of said Independents to their allies. Knives essentially tells Legato "how dare you cry over me", while Vash, a little later, thanks Meryl for her bravery and steadfastness.

There's also a difference in the way Legato and Meryl react to the scenes as well - Legato, understandably, is the picture of desperation, livid at Vash, grasping at Knives' literal insides as if to try and piece him back together all by himself. Meryl, while no less distressed, reaches out in what is a tender gesture to hold his head and then his hands, and tells him they're in it together. And to me, these differing reactions go a long way in showing us the differences between the kind of devotion they have.

Firstly, the commonalities. Both Legato and Meryl do a lot on a very self-directed basis - they help of their own volition, and do an awful lot of instrumental behind the scenes work to support Knives and Vash, respectively. They both strongly believe in the vision that the one they assist has for the world, and they act accordingly.

But Legato's entire sense of being is based on his connection with Knives (through no fault of his own, really), and his understanding of Knives is based entirely off of the image he has constructed - as the one person who shares his sense of vengeful justice, the one person who could accomplish what Legato had been helpless to do. Meryl has a life and personhood outside Vash, and her understanding of him is a lot more in-depth and personal than simply his ideals - she knows what it means to him to hold a gun, and the weight of taking and sparing a life, something Meryl understands also. Knives and Legato do not ever get the chance to connect in this way.

What all this really leads to is Legato having to make assumptions about who Knives is as a person - and because their meeting was such a pivotal moment for Legato, anything that happens afterwards that doesn't fit the idealized image he constructed there becomes "wrong". When Knives does things that Legato does not understand (typically regarding Vash), Legato tries to remove the source of the "problem", regardless of Knives' actual wishes. Despite Legato's desire to know Knives more personally, he is unable to actually achieve this, and Legato is left to make his own judgements about what is "best" for Knives, which becomes horrifically distorted by his own need for approval and his jealousy. As I've said before, Legato's devotion is ultimately self-serving, and rather than accept that Knives' brother is very important to him, Legato instead takes this as a challenge - since he sees devotion as the height of strength, it does not make sense to him that Vash should have Knives' regard so easily, when he works against him and Legato does so much. To Legato, devotion is loyalty is love is power. It's all the same, tangled up in itself.

What this all leads to is Legato feeling compelled to prove his devotion over and over, and Knives becoming more dismissive as Legato grows more desperate; this paradoxically shoves a wedge even further between them and any understanding of the other's person they could've come to. Legato wants to be instrumental to Knives, but this is really an individual need Legato has - not a true desire to form a collective. Legato wants to be of sole importance to Knives, and Knives, as we know, is the master of self-isolation, going so far as to merge with others of his own kind, but still rejecting mutual understanding.

Meryl, on the other hand, is forced to reconcile hard with the image of the mysterious traveler and pacifist she knew with the horrors of July and the pain the actual person, Vash, walks with every day. Her understanding of this allows for her to share in his ideology while seeing him as a person with flaws that are not things she can simply "fix" - the flaws and wavering are a part of him, and always have been. Meryl's proof of devotion isn't to uphold Vash's image as flawless, nor is it to make decisions in his stead - it is simply her standing at his side and offering support - something that Vash eventually will come to accept (at least a little). It's a shared front that Meryl, Vash, and others like Livio, Milly and Luida put forward to face things head first - they're in it together.

Devotion is simply steadfastness to Meryl, and neither Vash nor Meryl have imposed a formal hierarchy on this - Meryl doesn't serve Vash, she assists him, and calls him out when need be. Devotion to the world he wishes to see. Loyalty and love and respect for his person. But Meryl's strength and power doesn't come from her devotion or from recognition by Vash, it comes from her own propensity to face down her fears. It comes from her.

I think there's a lot more that could be said on this topic, but for now, I'll leave it off here. Maybe on a re-read, I'll have something a bit more substantial to say.

[mother-of-frogs]

MTR Wilbur Headcanons (Part 1)

•Wilbur was born on May 30, which makes him a Gemini.

•Despite getting bad grades in math and physics, Wilbur is secretly a brilliant student he just doesn’t see his true potential yet.

•Wilbur is scared of the dark and thus sleeps with a small light orb by his side table.

•A small accident when he was 5 years old while playing hide and seek with Carl, he accidentally got himself locked inside the Storage Room in complete darkness, until Cornelius and Franny found him terrified and in tears about five minutes later.

•Wilbur learned profanity from a very early age by sitting in his play pen and seeing Gaston and Art watch American Football and suddenly flipping out whenever the local team started losing. Franny was livid at both of them for that.

•Wilbur’s comfort foods are Macaroni & Cheese, Submarine Sandwiches, Ice Cream and Uncle Art’s pizzas

•After his adventure with Lewis he started being more of a helping hand around the house (helping Billie maintain her trains, keeping track of Gaston’s cannon launch distance record, helping Franny tune her music instruments, helping Art deliver pizzas, helping Bud find his teeth (again), taking Buster out for walks, etc.)

•Wilbur also started learning to cook with Lucille, though he prefers just to cook his comfort foods.

[stinkysam]

Eddie Munson - Summer of 85

Warning : alcohol mention (once)

Genre : fluff

Synopsis : Eddie's curiosity got picked when he read about a few summer camp programs that focus on music, allowing the participants to learn how to play any instruments they want. He decides to try it when his uncle point out one of them mentions the possibility of playing in a small gig on the last week.

Reader : male (he/you)

Eddie had saved enough money for that one summer camp Wayne told him about. Despite not being interested at first, not believing there would be one made for people with "different" music taste, Eddie finally caved in. He had planned to go with the other members of Corroded Coffin, hoping he'd get his band to play with him during that gig mentioned in the brochure.

But sadly, only he could attend this summer camp. Grant got himself a summer job and refused to quit since he needed the money to buy a new electric bass, Jeff was away visiting his family and Gareth's parents were not too fond of the idea. So Eddie went alone.

Not wanting to feel the loneliness of their empty home just yet, Wayne accompanied him to the bus station, adding it was also not safe to leave his van there for a month and a half, unless he wanted it to get stolen. He was happy Eddie would get to leave Hawkins. Even for just one summer. He would get to enjoy himself without worries and without the sour faces of his other classmates.

The man glanced at him, a bit amused at how Eddie refused to let go of his guitar, holding it tightly with one hand to make sure it wouldn't fall over and get scratches despite being wrapped up with protections. Taking care of it since the first day he got his hands on the instrument. He looked at the bag of clothes by the boy's feet.

"You make it look like you'll be gone for only two weeks. I ain't gonna drive to another state to bring you more, got it ?"

Although his tone was serious, Eddie knew it was a lie. Maybe he wouldn’t drive to another state but he would still find a way to get him his clothes. He looked at his bag and then at his uncle with a bright smile, claiming he had plenty enough. Seeing he was unsatisfied by his answer he added that if it was bad he'll just come back without wasting any more time there, making him chuckle.

-

Sitting in the bus, Eddie was studying the other passengers, trying to spot any metalheads or people with instruments. Surely he couldn't be the only one going with his guitar.

The ride was long and he had to change busses a few times to finally find his people. Two of them seemed to be friends already, seated together and chatting loudly. Others just made it obvious by their clothing or by having their instrument with them. Eddie couldn't stop turning and shifting around in his seat as he couldn't change places. All of them were too far to talk with him and he was livid and frustrated, pushing his bag on his face as if to stop himself from screaming.

The bus stopped for a few minutes before starting again and Eddie moved his face out of his bag, sitting back normally and wanting to give one last defeated glance to his fellow metalhead campers only to nearly jump out of his skin with a small scream. A young man blocking was his view, staring at him with an equally startled look.

"Are you okay ?"

"Yeah- You were an old woman, like- 2 minutes ago," Eddie says while examining your belongings, quickly catching his breath.

"Pretty sure she left and I took her place while you were in your bag. I promise you I'm not a doppelganger."

You grinned letting yourself fall in your seat. Eddie stared at you with wide eyes before squinting them and finally, he smiled back.

"Are you going 'there' too ?" He says, as if the there was obvious to all. You played along.

"Probably so."

The two of you continued chatting for the rest of the ride and any awkward feelings quickly dissipated. By the time you finally set foot outside you were already building plans to do together. You watched him stretch as he complained he couldn’t feel his ass anymore from so much sitting and you heard what you could imagine to be the camp counselors calling everyone toward them, wanting to make sure every name on the list was present.

After the presentations and visit of the dorms you and Eddie had spoken to almost everyone else. Although you tried to make friends, the two of you were mainly trying to find other people to form a temporary band with to be able to perform for the gig mentioned in the brochure. You’ve each managed to find one person and asked if you could share the same room, seeing some people were already switching places.

-

The summer goes by fast when you’re surrounded by your people. Everyday you got to play with beginners and experienced people, gaining a sense of competitiveness over time to be a part of the group playing for the gig on the last night. Eddie and you had decided to be together, spending most of your time by his side talking about music or your common passion : Dungeons and Dragons. You even created a group with a few other students. Once again, Eddie found himself to be the game master again and decided to do his absolute worst. He claimed wanting to leave a mark in people’s minds, in case he couldn’t do it by being a famous metal band.

You’d spend your days together, talking about music and sharing weird recipes you’d do at home when your parents weren’t there. He had a few to share too, admitting he’d only skip dinner when his uncle wasn't there and if he felt too lazy to make something even if most of the time he mixed cereals with pasta.

You learned about his friends and his band, so you asked him to play some of his. He refused at first, you wouldn’t be able to experience the whole thing because the other three members weren’t there but he finally caved in. Playing for you and the people you shared your room with. You had a band as well, almost everyone here had so you ended up playing your own creation before everyone else around a fire camp.

Electricity was in the air as a rumor was going around about a metal band going to town to play tonight. Everyone wanted to go but it wasn’t possible. The only way was to sneak there and pay with your own money. Not before letting your camp counselor you were sound asleep in your bed and leaving through the window to luckily hitchhike with someone nice enough to drive you to the concert.

Which you did. You were the one who came up with Eddie. Well, Eddie did too but you voiced it first. So many people were there and despite the night you could see clearly with the strong lights. You lost him after an hour only to notice he was in the mosh pit, going absolutely ham.

Your ears were ringing when you got back to the dormitories and almost got caught.

Finally the last days were here and you had to prepare for the gig, choose those who will go on the stage. And almost as if it was scripted, you and Eddie got chosen to play together. Three other people were added and you spent the whole week training together.

It was exhilarating. You almost fell in love with Eddie when you looked up at him from your drums, he was absolutely shining in those stage lights. You would not tell him that. He was smiling so bright, he didn’t care that the people in front of him didn’t come for them yet he knew they would not regret it. He belonged there. Eddie felt the same. He belonged here and so did you. You played so well together and he was glad he got to do it with you. His heart skipped a beat when he saw you drenched in sweat at the end of the gig, hair sticking to your skin as your chest heaved up and down with big breaths.

-

Eddie stared at you when you suddenly got up from your seat to grab your bag from the luggage rack.

"What's going on ?"

"My stop."

Shit. He had forgotten you only had one hour drive from the camp to your town.

"What ?" he looked outside the window to see the bus had slowed down and stood up, awkwardly facing you. "Leaving me already ?"

"Yeah, I can't bear your presence any longer. So, I'm off." you said with a smile as he deadpanned you.

"No, I'm- I'm glad you were here. It was cool meeting ya."

Eddie laughed a bit bashfully at your words before bowing dramatically. Though he felt restricted by the area.

"What can I say, I'm often told I'm the best. And… you were not so bad yourself, [last name]."

He gave your shoulder a slap before pulling you in a tight hug, struggling slightly to not fall over as the bus finally came to a halt. You felt Eddie squeeze your shoulders once you took a step back and grabbed your bags again to follow the people that were getting off the bus.

Falling back into his seat with a sigh he soon spotted you outside and waved at you, smiling when you did the same.

After a few minutes the doors closed, signaling the bus was about to leave and only then Eddie remembered the small paper in his pocket.

Shit !

-

Eddie couldn't stop moving, although he was no longer in a bus, Wayne's car was barely an improvement for his ass after sitting for so long. Luckily, they were not too far from home anymore and soon he would get the freedom of simply standing up.

"So where does he lives ?" Wayne asked, trying to ignore the constant shifting of Eddie.

"I huh… I don't know."

Wayne looked at him in confusion only to see he was looking out the window, obviously avoiding eye contact.

"You don't know where he lives ?"

"It didn't really come up in the discussion."

It was true. He never even thought about it and neither did you, too immersed in your time together to remember it would end.

"Well, you'll be able to ask him through the phone I suppose. Just don't clog the line too much."

Eddie said nothing, only humming not wanting to explain he also forgot to give you his phone number.

-

He had talked about you and your shared adventures to each member of Corroded Coffin, narrating them like big tales. And when he met Lucas, Mike and Dustin, Eddie made sure they knew about you as well. The man that made the summer of 85. Without even meeting you, they grew to like you despite hearing the same stories over and over.

"But I don't understand," started Lucas one day at their lunch table, cutting Eddie off. "How come you were together for two months and never thought of sharing how to stay in touch ?"

Eddie's eyes went to the young boy, staring at him unamused. It's not the first time they talked about this as they apparently found it very funny to bring it up randomly to annoy him.

"Yeah, weren't you, like, attached to the hip or something ?" Mike asked, pointing his fork at him, meat hanging from it only for Eddie to slap it out of his hands.

"Careful, you two, I can make sure none of you survive this campaign." At his words their giggles quickly died down, reminded of the time Dustin almost got written to be only an NPC.

-

It felt weird.

Eddie felt like he was starting to accept the idea of never seeing you again while also finding it absolutely unbelievable.

You just crossed paths and that's it.

While he didn't like to think about it, he feared he would forget you, doubting his own memories at times. He used to be able to hear your voice in his head or imagine you by his side as if you really were there. Although he could still do it, he knew some details were off ; not sure if you were the same height as him or taller. Did he really have to look up ? Were you a personal space invader ?

And your voice, he couldn't hear it properly anymore. It sounded more like an idea, a bunch of words thrown in together to describe it rather than an actual sound in his ears.

It has been a year and while he did not mention you as much as before he was still upset about it, feeling too uneasy to simply move on and forget. You became his friend and he was not going to simply shrug it off.

Eddie had hoped the camp would happen again this summer and that he'd found you by going but sadly it seemed like it was a one time only event.

With an annoyed sigh he roughly replaced the brochure back on its stack, walking toward the alcohol aisle. He had graduated a few days ago and after duly celebrating it, no beers were left in his trailer. Not even orange juice had been spared.

Once he had his cheap packs of beers under his arms he walked toward the snacks, humming lightly along to the songs the store was playing, not noticing someone was staring at him as he kneeled to inspect a bag of chips.

"Munson ?"

Eddie frowned thinking it was someone from Hawkins High wanting to disturb his peace. Looking up, ready to blow them off he instead jumped to his feet when he saw who it was. Nearly tripping on the beers sitting beside him, he would've fell if you hadn't pulled him into a bone crushing hug right away.

"What the fuck are you doing here, man ?" you asked with a laugh, moving back to look at him.

Eddie's hands went to your shoulders, giving them a light squeeze, "Shit dude, I live here ! You, what are you doing here ? How long are you gonna stay ?"

"You do ? I just moved in. Don't remember the street name but huh- fuck, why didn’t you tell me ?"

Are you joking ? Eddie scoffed at your words but his smile didn't falter, "You didn't tell me either ! Jesus- what's your phone ?"

He let go of you, hands desperately digging in his pockets to find some paper or a pen only for you to stop him. He was not going to let this mistake happen a second time.

"Get your chips while I get my sandwiches, you gonna help us unpack. You'll have everything you want there. Phone number, full adress, embarrassing childhood pictures���"

"Birth certificate ?"

"You'll have to ask my mom for that."