#very peaceful and high as a kite

[thatpunnyperson]

.

[trashmouth-richie]

this promot was sent in by my lovely @joejoequinnquinn here.

prompt words were: chair, belt, “good girl” and smut 🧐

18+ no minors, talk of bdsm, two idiots in love, drug use, steve is mentioned in this off handedly, (i love adding him in at random) eddie, once again, talks about his dick, fluffy smut, Journey slander 😩, high activities, smut! be aware that the dialogue probably doesn’t make sense because they’re jenelle evans from teen mom 2 high

<1.3k eddie x fem reader

a trip to skull rock with a shared joint and a random piece of furniture, what could go wrong?

“Is this your idea of bdsm?” 

Eddie tightens the belt around your wrists, a joint hanging slack from his lips, his eyes squinted with concentration, “FM?—the radio station?” 

Looking back, it probably wasn’t the best idea to get higher than a kite on Easter with your boyfriend and then try to seduce one another. But alas, here you were. 

The drive to skull rock was interesting to say the very least. Eddie claimed he knew how to get there only to have you traveling fifteen miles in the wrong direction— the ‘come back soon!’ sign should have been a giveaway. 

“It’s an acro—af-ro—” your tongue felt like a piece of rubber in your mouth, you’d already mistaken it for gum once tonight, “Dan Aykroyd?” 

“That guy from Ghost?”

The giggles took you over making you lose balance and tipping over the chair you were supposed to be sitting in, hitting the dirt with a soft little thud, hands still tied behind your back. 

Eddie sat in the chair, looking down at you and shaking his head, knowing full well you both shouldn’t have smoked that last blunt. But you were so cute when you begged, he could never deny you. 

“BDSM,” you continue, managing to sit up right, “it’s an acronym… but I dunno what for.” 

“Oh, yeah—” Eddie scratched his head, eyes red and hazy, “I mean Harrington said it was pretty easy, and chicks went nuts over it, calling him ‘daddy’ and shit, begging to be choked.” 

“‘Sir’ suits you better.” 

“How about ‘Master’?” 

“Now you’re pushin’ it.”  

You’re intrigued. interests officially peaked as your scraped dirt under your nails, attempting a castle behind your back. 

“Would I get a title? Is the peasant whore royal enough for such luxuries?” 

Eddie frowns and puts the joint to your lips, “don’t call yourself that. I could punish you y’know.” 

Your eyes widen as they follow the circle of smoke into the air, Eddie’s finger dancing around the center of it as if it were a ring. 

He sighs audibly, loud like a bored child. Suddenly fixated on the chair he was sitting in. 

“Did we bring this?” 

You both burst into laughter, scaring away birds and monsters alike. Disrupting any bit of peace the forest animals had before two stoned idiots stumbled into the wilderness with a plan they had zero idea on how to execute. 

BDSM in the woods, only Eddie Munson would think that was sexy. 

He hoists you up, loosening the belt that was barely held on, holding your dirty hands in his, pulling you onto his lap so you’re straddling his narrow slutty boy hips. 

Onyx would be jealous by your eyes alone, and Eddie’s looked downright demonic. Demon eyes in a cherubs face, that was your Eddie. 

One of your favorite parts of being with him is how his weirdness meshed with yours. Whenever you got this high you could spend hours staring at his porcelain skin, wondering how in the hell he was crafted, molded, carved from the rarest of granite and marble stones and that he was yours— all yours. 

Your hands walked across his face, counting his eyelashes to ten and starting again. 

“Your lips are squishy,” you announce after a while of staring and not blinking,, “like gum— spongy, pink, could be almost made of cake.” 

Eddie adored you, the way your eyebrows quirked like a cartoon when you were deep in thought or admiring his face. 

“Definitely not cake, but you could taste them if you’d like?” 

“Does it hurt?” you ask, removing your fingers from his mouth and squishing his cheeks. 

“The boner you’re sitting on? Yeah, a bit.” 

Your eyes widened in honest horror, “swear to God— I thought it was a flashlight.” 

“Nope,” Eddie attempts a wink but ends up shutting both eyes for a collective six seconds, “that's all me baby.” 

Hands lacing around his neck you grin stupidly into him, pressing your lips to the pretty plush that makes up his mouth. Pecking them with soft chicken like kisses. 

His hands work the globe of your ass, squeezing, rubbing, spanking, as you bite along his collar bone, keeping your teeth marks printed into his skin— your own method of claiming him. 

Buttons scatter along the dirt floor as you rip his shirt open, desperate to see the black widow that had been teasing you, the grotesque demonic zombie head that called the left side of his chest home. He promised someday the right side would be all yours. 

Tracing your name into the blank space with your finger nail, Eddie lets out a low groan. Hooded eyes stare at you and his mouth is on yours before you can finish taking a breath. 

It’s hot, uncoordinated in every way as the two of you claw at each other's pants in the mile high condition you were both in. 

“Why…” you grunt struggling against his zipper, leaning backwards towards his knees, “..is this so difficult.” 

Eddie looks down and grins lazily. 

“Here, lemme help.” He unfastens the button on his jeans, wiggling his hips to shove hia jeans down enough so his cock stood like a tent in his checkered boxers. 

“A picnic?” You gleam with red stark stars in your eyes, “for me?” 

He pulls you forward, “oh baby, take all that you want.” 

It’s quick, dirty, every bit of clumsy filled with shared laughs that were laced with whimpering moans as your bodies rock together, coming together so hard you nearly break the chair. 

You buckle into him, fingers digging into his shoulders to hold yourself up. His spend on the belly of your shirt and the top of the waistband of your ‘easy access’ cotton shorts. 

Nestling into him further you inhale the scent from the sweet burn of weed and sex clinging to his skin and the toothpaste that dribbled down his neck that wasn’t wiped off well enough. 

His hands stroke your back lazily, lips pressed to your shoulder, cock softening on your thigh. 

“What time is it?” 

“Sweetheart, I couldn’t read my watch right now if I tried—everything is spinning.” 

His face is pale, neck clammy with sweat. 

“Gonna puke?”

“Tryin’ not—” 

Holding tight to your waist and moving you over, he throws up the breakfast you had made at two in the afternoon. Eddie hurled and hurled until he shook from the ache of dry heaving.

Leaning back in the chair that you both couldn’t remember the exact whereabouts of how it appeared— he yawned with exhaustion.

“Let’s go home, take a hot shower, have a little nap?” 

He nods and you help him up, pulling his hands until he’s flat footed, and you’re stumbling your way ahead of him. 

“Jesus, I fucking came and barfed on your shirt.” 

You shrug, slurring, “it’s okay— it’s yours anyway.” 

He scoffs in bratty metal fashion, offended by your music knowledge or lack thereof, “I don’t own a ‘Journey’ shirt.”

Eddie pulls you back by the waist and examines the shirt, flipping the collar to see a sharpied ‘WM’ on the tag. 

He geeks out a smile, the color of his irises bleaching back to dark brown, “better get that ‘good girl’ act ready— because Wayne is going to lose his fucking mind.”

[missisjoker]

Modern!AU, where Jacaerys Velaryon is the Head Boy of a faculty in some very posh university for rich people, very prim and proper. His primary objective is to uphold the family image and protect his brothers from their nasty cousins, Greens, who always try to bully them. Cregan is a last-year student who owns a bar and just wants to graduate in peace. Both their plans go to shit when two overcooked gingers in their care (Jace's brother Lucerys and Cregan's cousin Oscar Tully) start having a beef with each other.

It's really just a prank war—it never even comes to blows—until one day Lucerys steals Oscar's sports gear and as a payback, Oscar puts weed into Jace and Lucery's dorm vents.

Cregan drives Oscar to the Blacks' dorm to apologize and ends up evacuating everyone to his bar because they are all high as a kite. His evening goes from bad to worse because high!Jace is very clingy and has absolutely zero control over his pretty mouth. He keeps ogling Cregan with those big brown eyes and whispering things like "I want to choke on your cock" or "I wanna suck you so hard your balls go dry and your toes curl," which drives Cregan feral. Then Jace gets his hands on Cregan, grabs his hair, and kisses him. This is when something clicks in Jace's mind and he promptly runs away and throws himself under an ice-cold shower.

This, in return, only makes matters worse because now he looks absolutely guilty, his cheeks burn red, he can't look Cregan in the eye, and, worst of all, has to dress up in Cregan's clothes head to toe- and that fills Cregan with hunger.

While both Jace and Cregan are having a crisis, Oscar is looking through the videos he took in the Blacks' dorm (as a blackmail) and notices something. There is a hidden camera in Lucerys's shower.

Jace and Luke sober up immediately, and all four drive back to the dorm. Oscar's suspicion is proven right- there is a camera in the shower, and one in the bedroom, and a whole bunch more scattered around the dorm. Brothers are horrified, because their family security sweeps the house regularly- which can only mean, they have spies on their payroll. (And they immediately suspect the Greens because nobody else would be pervert enough to spy on Luke in his shower).

Naturally, Cregan offers both to crash at his house until they can figure it out (since finals are coming and they can't trust anyone else).

Domestic shenanigans and sexual tension galore.

(Ok, I admit- I'm just tired of all the angst and pain and suffering, and just want some crack and romantic comedy).

[kaihuntrr]

part twenty-three: caged birds

Grian follows the blood trail.

Drip.

Grian looked up as he felt a drop of liquid slide down his skin. It could be his sweat– it probably was. Hopefully it wasn’t some open wound he had yet to tend to. He looked around him and bit his lip. So many people were injured. How was it that Pearl and her allies were able to take them down so easily? It had to be the work of the sea princes’ magic, right?

How easily he had started believing in all this sea prince stuff was surprising. What normal person would have thought that these legendary beasts were real?

Though, maybe Grian was simply in denial about believing them. He was raised with those stories the same way Martyn was, but Grian wasn’t as invested as his friend. 

Grian sighed. Martyn. 

How long would it take them to find him? How many more injuries could they take if Pearl were to stalk them throughout the rest of their search? What then?

Drip.

The sound of water droplets falling from the sky irked Grian. 

Grian moved his hand to wipe his face. Nothing. Nothing but a drop of water. It was probably nothing. 

Grian was sitting next to a tree, leaning against the rough and uncomfortable bark as he looked at the rest of camp. It’d do no good to continue the search in their roughed state, so those who could still move easily went to fetch some firewood, gathering as much as they could so both crews could settle down for the next hour or two. Some of the Kites were warming up next to the fire, others rested as a chill air brushed through the makeshift camp. He could see Bdubs and Mumbo resting on a makeshift bed, their chests slowly rising and falling.

Grian held back a sharp sigh. Bdubs and Mumbo… I hope you get up soon.

Grian gazed at the fire, his mind wandering in thought. If he and Cleo were able to track that bloodied trail, they might be able to find Martyn. They just needed to find that path again. But with all the confusion from the fight, Grian was unsure where the path actually was. Everything looked the same.

“Grian?” 

Grian blinked as he heard his name, looking up to see Scar standing in front of. Scar was looking at him with his head slightly tilted, so he was probably the one who’d called him.

Grian felt his face heat up as he saw Scar’s smile. A wonderful, bright smile that was such a welcome change from such an eerie, weird forest. He didn’t know how Scar could just brush off the battle with Pearl like it was nothing, but he was glad someone was in relatively high spirits.

He was glad it was Scar. 

“Scar,” Grian forced a tired smile. While he did need his time to rest, he wanted to ensure that the others were fine first. “Did you need something?”

Scar shook his head, “No, not at all!” He sat next to Grian and looked at him with a warm smile. “I wanted to give you some company.”

Oh.

Grian let out a huff and glanced at the ground. “That’s very sweet of you,” he mumbled. “Thanks.”

“Of course!” Scar put his arm around Grian, pulling the blonde closer as he laughed. “Can’t have one of our captains being all mopey and sad, especially now.”

If it weren’t for the current predicament everyone was in, Grian would’ve savored this moment even more. 

Grian sighed, leaning his head against Scar’s shoulder as the two sat in silence. Grian shut his eyes, listening to the sounds of distant fire crackling and conversations from the others. Bandages were getting applied, some hissed in pain with their bruises, and others had been focusing on their breathing and grounding themselves. The fight with Pearl took a lot out of everyone.

He cracked an eye open to gaze at the fire, then looked up at Scar. Scar’s gaze looked outward, seemingly deep in thought as the comfortable silence lingered between them. A moment of peace despite all the chaos that wrapped around them. A brief respite of silence after all the shouting and bullets.

A moment to breathe, but it could be their last.

Grian broke the silence between them, but his voice was a whisper. “...Do you think we’ll be able to find Martyn soon?”

Before Scar could answer, Grian opened his mouth again, his expression darkened as he curled into himself. “Do you think we’ll find him alive…?”

Scar turned his face to Grian, but his eyes flickered to where Bdubs and Mumbo were for a brief moment. “Yeah,” he nodded, “I’m sure we will. It won’t be too long until sweet Martyn comes back to the ship with us!”

I wish I could share the same sentiment, Grian thought. 

They had never faced this kind of problem before. Martyn was missing, Cleo had gotten hurt, Bdubs and Mumbo were unconscious…. This whole island was cursed. 

“I’m glad you have some optimism,” Grian chuckled. He furrowed his eyebrows and looked at his hands, “I’m not sure if we–”

“If we can do it?” Scar raised an eyebrow. Grian bit his lip in response, still not looking at Scar. Scar pulled Grian a little closer to him. “Trust yourself a bit more, Grian! We’ve made it this far, we can’t give up hope now.”

Hope? How could he have hope? What was there to hope for?

He hoped Martyn was safe, he hoped everyone would make it out alive, and he had hoped for the hunting trip to go by without a hitch– everything had been just fine until they’d gotten to Crescent Bay! If anything, it was hope that got them stuck there in the first place. 

…Though, that was his fault too, wasn’t it?

It’d been his decision where to go. He’d made the call that’d put them here. He was the one responsible. He hadn’t insisted they all be more careful, even when he’d been told that the island was dangerous. And look where that had gotten them.

Stuck in the middle of a forest on an island that was ready to kill them.

So he couldn’t trust himself to have hope.

How could he?

Martyn was missing- maybe… maybe dea-.... Cleo was hurt, Bdubs and Mumbo were probably sporting twin concussions, and Scar had gotten his leg popped off and had to go crawling after it! Grian had led his crew into danger. Then he’d dragged an entirely different, unrelated crew into their mess- the mess he’d made. And now they were all but lost in this forest with nothing more than rations and very little light, with a witch running around with their blood on her blades!

And to top it all off, something was clearly wrong with Martyn, even before he’d disappeared! The strange way he acted, the strange eyes in his notebook, and Grian had just left him alone on the cursed island! Grian should have insisted Martyn stay on the ship when he wasn’t feeling well, but he hadn’t. He’d practically been begging for the witch to grab Martyn!

So yeah, Grian was just about hopeless and he just couldn’t trust himself after all of that. He just- couldn’t….

Grian pulled his legs closer to him and wrapped his arms around them. “I’m not sure I have any hope left….”

“Even a tiny little bit is enough,” Scar smiled sympathetically. “We’re all in this together, after all!” 

Grian couldn’t hold his sigh back. How was Scar so… hopeful? After all of this…?

Scar bumped Grian’s shoulder, knocking him out of his thoughts. “Come on now, Captain!” He laughed heartily. “We’ve faced monsters, fought the ocean itself, and brought it to heel, and we’re still here. We can do this.”

He had a point. 

Grian could see the look on some of his friends’ faces. They looked tired and weary, but there was still a spark in them. Something that drove them forward. Something pushing them to continue on. 

Loyalty.

Scar continued, “We’ll get Martyn out, and then we’ll kick some sea prince butt– tail? Maybe tail works better.” He laughed at his own bad joke, but Grian joined in his laughter. Scar seemed to smile wider when Grian laughed.

Grian had to pull himself together. He was a captain of the Canaries. He had a capable crew, and no one was badly hurt. They had to make their move and do it as fast as they could, the earlier the better.

He couldn’t imagine life without Scar’s boundless optimism.

“You are such an idiot,” Grian playfully pushed Scar away, but he leaned back against the man’s shoulder, “but a lovable one.” He looked at the fire once more, wanting to light his mind with the burning embers. “Thank you.”

Scar smiled back, a content sigh escaping him as he leaned back against the trunk and closer to Grian. “Anytime.”

The two eased back into the comfortable silence, gentle breaths, the warm touch of the other, and the soft beating of hearts. It felt selfish to lean into Scar’s touch a little more, to close his eyes and relish in the moment as if this was just a dream. Yet here he was, inside of a creepy forest recovering from being beaten by a witch who’d taken his first mate and wasting time resting his head against his crush’s shoulder.

Was crush even the right word? Grian wanted someone he could rely on, another half, something to compliment him. Joel had that with Lizzie. It wasn’t like Grian was jealous or anything… but he deeply yearned for some strong connection, and Scar made him… feel things. Scar was his opposite in many ways, and his foolishness could easily be the end of him, but something about him was warm, inviting. 

Grian closed his eyes. 

He wasn’t sure how to deal with these emotions, but he decided it wasn’t too important. He had to focus, prioritize the main goal of rescuing Martyn and getting out of Crescent Bay. His mind lingered on sleep, though. He was tired. He’d spent the whole day marinating in stress and anxiety and it was finally catching up to him. He could hear Scar’s breathing and the steady beat of his heart. Grian’s heart probably matched with his by now.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Bliss.

Drip.

Grian cracked one of his eyes open. “That’s not funny.”

“What’s not funny?”

“The water dripping.”

Scar raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. “That’s not me…,” he opened his hand and raised it up, looking at the sky above. His eyes widened as he looked back at Grian. “It’s about to rain!” 

Of course it was about to rain. Grian sighed and shook his head, moving away from Scar as he groaned.

“Great, just great,” Grian mumbled to himself. He stood up to clear his throat to get everyone’s attention. Sure, the legends chalked up rain to be scary, but if they were going to escape a sea prince, there shouldn’t be that much harm to being a little wet, right? Grian could see some heads turn to him. “Everyone! Prepare for rain!”

The camp had become frantic, some scrambling under the bigger branches of trees while others pulled tarps out of their bags. But they shouldn’t feel afraid. They were hunters. Be it rain or shine, they would kill beasts on their ships. 

One drop.

Then two.

Then three.

Rain was about to crack.

He had to act fast.

Grian grabbed Scar’s arm and marched forward, trying to not flinch at all the droplets of water hitting him as he approached Joel. Joel was talking to Lizzie while Bdubs and Mumbo lay next to them beside a tree.

“Joel! Lizzie!” Grian nodded in greeting, looking at the two as they were addressed. “Quick! I need your help!”

Joel and Lizzie hurriedly rushed to Grian, high on alert. Joel looked back to Grian. “What do you want us to do?”

“You two, and whoever else you can get, try and head back,” Grian motioned away, raising his voice as to catch the attention of the others nearby. “Get the ship ready to sail.” 

Lizzie nodded. “Got it. What will you be doing?” She looked at Grian and Scar and tilted her head. 

Grian wasn’t sure if he wanted Scar to go with him or them, but the reassurance would be nice. Scar gave Grian a smile, seemingly eager to join Grian in whatever he was doing. He was so–....

“I’ll go with Cleo,” Grian put a hand on his chest as he motioned over to Cleo, who glanced at him while they were having a conversation with a couple of Kites. “She and I saw  a blood trail that could lead us to Martyn, and the storm will wash it away.”

Lizzie nodded. “You should get going now,” she looked at the cloudy sky above and shivered. She should be getting herself inside. She looked at Scar, who had been quiet for the whole conversation. “Scar, are you going with him?”

“Of course I am!” Scar nodded enthusiastically. He looked at Grian, “Let’s go round up the others, and fast.”

Joel gave them a small wave. “Good luck,” he smiled, “We’ll see you soon.”

Grian nodded, a determined smile on his face as he turned and followed Scar to where Cleo was standing, the man already calling for her attention. 

Cleo was with Katherine, Tubbo, and Puffy while Bek and Krow sat nearby. They all looked fairly fine from their fight with Pearl, and hopefully they were strong enough to get Martyn out of… wherever he was. 

“Cleo! We need your help,” Scar grabbed their arm impatiently then turned to the Kites nearby. “The rest of you guys are more than welcome to join.”

“What’s the problem?”

“We’re splitting up the groups,” Grian stopped in front of Cleo. He motioned to Joel and Lizzie, who had been gathering up the others in preparation to leave. He was sure this plan would work. “The more injured people should head back, some should help them get back to the ship while the rest of us find Martyn.”

“Shouldn’t you be heading back too, Grian?” Katherine asked with concern in her voice. “Pearl roughed you up pretty badly….”

Grian shook his head, “I’ll be fine.” He still had a couple of bruises from the fight, but he could take a couple of more. He could still walk, so his injuries shouldn’t hold him back. “Only Cleo and I know about the blood trail. The sooner we find it, the sooner we find Martyn. Are you in?”

Katherine looked at the Kites, each of them nodding and grinning in agreement. It looked like they were adamant for a chance at a rematch. “I think we’re all good to fight with you,” she turned to Grian and smiled. “Let’s get going!”

Don’t worry Martyn, Grian nodded as he walked in the opposite direction from Joel’s group. We’ll be there as soon as we can.

Just don’t die.

—————

Despite the rain clouds blocking the moon, the soft light made it easier to navigate. With a few lanterns to spare, Grian and the rest of his small band of hunters trekked into the forest under the light of only a pair of lanterns, trying to retrace his and Cleo’s steps despite all the trees and foliage looking the same. The forest felt like it could stretch on for miles– any landmarks were too few and far between, blending into the backdrop of the forest and shadows…. Grian could assume that people had been able to navigate it at one point, given the path he and Cleo had found leading to and from the cave.

That cave still felt really odd. It had clearly been well used, judging by the footpaths. It almost seemed like it had been carved, but then what purpose did it serve?

It had a large pool of water that didn’t even look like water. The unnatural glow of the water, the great beast that had risen from it…. If Grian had to guess, it could have something to do with Pearl and whatever she did as a witch. He didn’t know much about witches, though. All the stories he could recollect from his parents were more about dangerous sea monsters than the monsters on land….

Martyn had seen the cave too, at least. If that was his blood, then he must have seen it. Now Grian just needed to find it again.

The hunters broke through the tree line into a small area, following Katherine as she made an abrupt stop. Raising his lantern, Grian could see the familiar entrance to the cave, still covered in vines and moss. 

“That’s where the cave is,” Grian muttered as he moved his lantern away from the entrance, raising it higher, “So the path should be….”

“Here,” Cleo called from a short distance. She stood at the entrance of a path that led into the forest. She flinched and scowled as a drop of rain hit their face, but they shook their head and beckoned the rest forward. “Let’s hurry.”

And off they went, following the faint trail before it disappeared. 

The woods kept going and going, and during their walk the light drizzle had subsided. Grian could feel his boots dig deeper into the slightly wet dirt as they walked. It seemed most of the rain had gone into the leaves, but that didn’t stop everything else from getting wet. Most of the trail was fortunately intact, despite the morbidity of being thankful for it. Grian tried not to shudder whenever he glanced down to look at the blood. Just how much did Martyn bleed?

The group moved together in focused silence, following the blood trail as they ventured forward. As they continued walking, the path became clearer and clearer. They trudged through less tall weeds and stepped on fewer twigs. They could even hear the sounds of cicadas and owls. There was finally some life in this haunting forest.

It felt oddly invigorating.

Grian led the group with Scar and Cleo to his sides, Puffy, Katherine, and Krow followed behind with Bek and Tubbo surveying the back. They were fewer in number than they were before, but if Martyn was being monitored, a smaller group could be much more manageable to strategize with, as opposed to a search party trying to cover as much ground as quickly as possible.

“What happens after we get Martyn?” Krow walked up to Grian, its hands in its pocket as the rest of the group trudged on in silence. Cleo stepped further away to adjust, walking ahead a bit more with a focused look.

“We leave,” Grian glanced at Krow. He sighed, “I’m sorry we couldn’t get your crew a new boat.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Puffy called out from behind. “We can get our own ship as soon as we leave this place.”

“What were you doing near the world border anyway?” Cleo glanced at each of the Kites, their gaze finally landing on Puffy. “Most sailors avoid that place.”

“They do, which is exactly why we wanted to go there,” Bek walked closer to the group, a slight edge to his voice. “But when we arrived, there weren’t any decent monsters around.”

That’s what happened to us too. Grian bit his lip and hummed. The only thing that they encountered was the pack of scuttlers. Even then, there weren’t very many of them, way less than their normal pack size, even if these had been way more aggressive than usual. There were so many warnings telling people to never visit the world border. He remembered getting that advice from some of the crews that hung around the Crown Isle’s port. It was practically common knowledge that the place was absolutely infested. So, what had changed?

Cleo furrowed their eyebrows. “You mean… it was empty?”

“Yeah!” Tubbo walked closer, walking next to Katherine as he spoke. “Sure, a boneback took down our ship, but it got swarmed by a bunch of scuttlers!” He crossed his arms and tilted his head, “Then those scuttlers swam away from us without even taking any of our crew with them! I’m not sure why.”

A scuttler had swam away from the Canaries too, hadn’t it? 

Grian could remember that scuttler– it looked like it was on the brink of death, and usually those things would have fought until they died. To see one running away….

“It was quiet after that,” Krow shook its head. “So many ships are reported to have been destroyed before they were close to the border, but this one…,” its voice trailed off as it raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

So the world border was empty. Then why were there so many warnings about death there? Did the monsters just start to get hungry and eat each other instead of waiting for new ships? Grian wouldn’t be surprised. If their main source of food avoided the area, those beasts would have to feed on each other.

Grian shuddered at the thought.

Katherine sighed loudly. “I’m just glad we’re all alive, honestly,” she smiled. “I don’t know how, but hey! No one died!”

“We’re glad too! It’s dangerous territory here,” Scar glanced at Katherine and grinned. “Who knows, there could have been a sea prince lurking around.”

“How are you going to take one down?” Katherine crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes, but she had a friendly smile on her face. She sounded like she was challenging them. “You said you were going to capture one, right?”

Grian hummed. “We haven’t gotten to the capturing part, but I’d assume it’ll be some kind of drug,” he tilted his head. “We’ll need a lot of the stuff, and get it potent enough to take one down.”

“What are you going to do with the prince once you have it?”

Huh. Grian had never really thought about it.

“I’m…,” Grian trailed off. He didn’t know what the king wanted with it. He couldn’t just say that. Actually, he probably shouldn’t have entertained this conversation at all. “I’m not supposed to say anything about it.”

He felt his cheeks flush in embarrassment. None of Kites were likely to tell a soul, but he knew he would’ve lectured any of his crew if they had let anything like that slip. Gods, he'd told Martyn off for how easy he let things like that slip out of his mouth barely a month ago!

He flinched as he felt Scar nudge his shoulder. Scar gave Grian a warm smile. All that embarrassment slipped away as he nudged Scar back and rolled his eyes.

“That’s so cool though,” Tubbo grinned in awe. He let out a huff and put his hands in his pocket, trying to look cool. “Guess you guys aren’t spoiled brats after all.”

“The king recruits the best of the best,” Grian shrugged. He could see the flicker of upset across the Kites’ faces, but he shook his head as he continued, “So keep doing your best. I’m sure we’ll see you receiving orders from the king one day.”

The Canaries weren’t always the king’s hunters. They’d had to work for it! Grian always felt pride in his chest as he recalled the day that he, Joel, and Jimmy had received the letter from the king accepting their crew as his hunters. Anyone could be the best, they just needed the work and the dedication.

And perhaps toning down the risk taking. Sailing into the world border under the assumption that there were multiple sea monsters waiting to strike was not smart.

“I look forward to being rivals with you,” Bek grinned. “Maybe we could even catch a sea prince first!”

Katherine shook her head with a laugh. “Temper your aspirations, Bek.” She nudged the Kite’s shoulder with a chuckle. “Let’s focus on getting out of here first, then we can think about that.”

“Keep this conversation between yourselves, though,” Grian looked behind him. “We don’t want the public to hear about it yet.”

Each of the Kites nodded in agreement. Good. 

The walk had been silent for a short period of time until Krow’s eyes widened. “Look! Over there!” it ran forward, brushing past a few bushes and stopping at the ledge. “A lake!”

Grian walked forward following Krow, moving away from the path. Krow was right. 

There was a giant lake in front of them, lit with an eerie glow from the moon. The clouds had parted just enough for things to be a bit more visible, especially as the light had returned to a brilliant white instead of a bloody red. The water glittered under the light, the area surrounding the lake felt like walls hiding it away from the rest of the forest. Grian looked to the side and gasped– there was a cabin, nestled within a crop of a few sparse trees, overlooking the lake. A tower rose from behind it, looking out of place like a tacked on addition by a different designer.

Grian pulled out his spyglass, examining the buildings before him. He could see them clearly, but he gasped as he took a closer look at the discolored front steps from the distance, trailing towards the door with an odd shine. Blood.

“It looks like the trail leads there. Put the lanterns out, quick,” Grian whispered. He crouched down, looking over the bushes as he stared at the cabin. “Just stay low, and wait for my signal.” The group was quick to follow his orders, settling into the shadows of the foliage.

Grian continued to watch the cabin, waiting for any movement. Pearl could be lurking around anywhere, so it was best to keep low and keep those lanterns off. He leaned in closer from the ledge, trying to spot anything—

Something was glowing in the window of the tower. Very faintly. Something blue and orange was moving around. Grian squinted, trying to see, but it was too small and too far away. Eventually, it disappeared, and not long after Grian could hear the distant sound of water splashing. Whatever it was, it was gone now.

“What’s the plan?” Scar whispered, looking at Grian expectantly.

Grian hummed as gears turned in his head. He needed a plan, and he needed a good one. “Here’s what I think….” 

As he explained his plan, he couldn’t shake off the thought about those weird lights. Maybe they were the eyes from the person who’d crashed into Pearl, the person who’d saved him. 

Why were they sticking around? And at Pearl’s place? Did they have something to do with what happened to Martyn? They had saved him, but had they hurt Martyn? 

He shook his head. That wasn’t important right now.

Focus, Grian.

He took in a breath.

It’s time to find our missing Canary.

[featherandferns]

prompt 25 with fluff?

25. I love your smile.

Content warning: drug use (weed) :)

not the navy! - prompt 25

“Hello, operator? Get me the navy.”

“Hello! You’ve reached the navy’s automated phone service.”

“Squidward! The robots are running the navy!”

“Not the navy!”

Tears are close to streaming down your face as you guffaw at the television. The uncontrollable snorts and wheezes that come from you can’t be attractive. It probably wasn’t even that funny, but high as a kite, you think it’s the best damn thing you’ve ever heard. JJ’s equally as tickled, cackling away beside you. You hold the blunt out for him to take. He takes a drag through his laughter as the episode of Spongebob plays on. When he chuckles at another joke, a shaky cloud of smoke fills the air before you. Everything smells strong from the herb; it douses your clothes and consumes your senses.  

“Damn this shit is good,” JJ says, voice light with humour and weed. 

“Absolute classic,” you agree.

You hold out your fingers for JJ to pass the blunt back to you. When he doesn’t, you turn to find him fixated on the television screen. Rolling your eyes, you crawl up and close the small gap on the sofa. You pinch the joint from him, catching his attention, and take a satisfying drag. Resting your head against his upper body, you cuddle against him. JJ lazily runs a finger up and down your thigh as the episode plays on. Everytime he laughs, you feel his whole body shake and can hear the deep rumble down your ear. When the episode ends, JJ sighs and gets to his feet. You whine jokingly in complaint as he disturbs your peace. 

“You wanna a beer?”

“Sure,” you sigh, flopping back to lay on the pull-out. 

The television whirs as the DVD works on starting the next episode. It’s a junker. You found the TV when dumpster diving and got an old friend to help fix up the wiring. It’s a fuzzy picture and the sound is questionable, but it’s good enough considering the whole thing cost you ten bucks. The DVD is the ‘Best Episodes of Spongebob’ that you found at GoodWill. It was released in 2009 so it has all the classics. JJ had pulled out a blunt (made from his cousin’s ‘deadly weed’) when you got home and the two of you had been floating away, taking advantage of the empty Chateau on a Thursday night. 

Laid on your back, you take another drag and close your eyes. There's the clink of two glass bottles being carelessly placed on the window ledge that you vaguely register. The pull-out sofa jolts as JJ flops back down next to you. You don’t bother opening your eyes, too serene to bother. He takes the blunt from your fingers to have a hit. Then, his fingers gently latch around your jaw. He guides his lips to yours, coaxing your mouth apart, and exhales the smoke into your mouth. Your body bristles with the action. Your eyes slowly open, meeting JJ’s dreamy gaze. He’s fucking gone. Pupils blown wide (as are yours, most likely) and whites all bloodshot. You grin and lean up, kissing him with newfound fervour. JJ’s fingers slip up into your hair, the other holding the joint safe and sound to the side. As you sloppily make out with your boyfriend, the DVD continues to play in the background, providing the most absurd mood-music. 

“What’s that supposed to mean? I’ll have you know that I’m very busy.”

“Well, I’m sure you are.”

“I don’t like your tone.”

“I’m sure you are!”

You snap out of the erotic haze with that joke, breaking apart from JJ to laugh in his face. JJ sniggers as you do, staring down at you. He guides the blunt to your lips when you catch your breath, helping you take a drag, eyes unwavering in their stare. You blow it into his face with a cheeky smile. His finger traces your jawline like he’s in a trance. 

“I love your smile,” he says. 

You feel it turn mushy with that. Pushing his face away jokingly, you mutter, “simp.”

“Awww did I get you all flustered?” JJ teases. 

“Fuck off!” you laugh, tossing your head back. JJ laughs like a maniac. Your head falls forward onto his shoulder and you hide yourself into his neck with a giggle. Makes JJ laugh harder. 

He gradually coaxes your face back up to meet his, reconnecting your lips, insatiable. Once again the two of you are lost to the world of one another, chasing the other's lips, nipping at the sensitive skin on your neck and just under his ear, fuelled by the sounds and sighs it evokes. That is until Spongebob delivers another corker -

“Hey pal, you just blow in from stupid town?”

- that has you giggling all over again. As if contagious, JJ can’t help but crack up as well. And as the two of you continue that dance of sniggering and smooching, you can’t think of any better way to spend a summer night. 

[solvskrift]

“Watch it there, mate,” Sirius chuckled. “You nearly managed to get some on the cake.”

His godson’s little face was smudged ear to ear with frosting, a bit more added to it each time he swiped his sticky hands across his cheeks.

Harry held the tip of his tongue between his teeth, concentration unbroken, and rose up on his knees as he added the finishing touches to what Sirius reckoned was supposed to be the wing of a golden snitch.

Molly passed by on her way to the cooker. “Ooh very good, dear! A fantastic job, isn’t it, Sirius?”

“I’ve never seen better in my life,” he agreed, exchanging amused smiles over the top of Harry’s head. “Can you say ‘thank you’ to Mrs. Weasley for letting you decorate your own birthday cake?”

“Thank youuuu!” Harry crowed, high as a kite on sugar. He plopped back into his seat and beamed at her.

“It’s no problem at all, sweetheart,” she said fondly, wiping his cheeks clean with the corner of her apron. “In fact, I might get the other children to start doing that - you’ve begun a tradition, I think!”

“Mmmmhmmm,” Harry nodded solemnly. “That’s me.”

Sirius barked a laugh. “Oh, you’re gonna be a handful tonight, aren’t you? Moony is most definitely handling bath time.”

“Nooo! No bath time!” Harry protested, launching himself out of the kitchen chair. Sirius scooped him up as the boy prepared to race headlong around the table.

“Yup, bath time and brussels sprouts and cleaning your room! Happy birthday!” Sirius told him, hanging him upside down.

Harry struggled and tried to hold back his giggles. “No!”

“Yup.” Sirius blew a raspberry on Harry’s belly and revelled in the ensuing shriek of laughter.

He set Harry back on his feet just as a breathless George appeared in the kitchen doorway. “C’mon, Harry, we’re ready for Quidditch!”

The boys sped out of the house without a backwards glance.

“Not too high!” Molly called after them at the same moment Sirius yelled to his godson, “Kick everyone’s arse!”

“Sirius,” Molly groaned at him.

Sirius just grinned into his beer. “You love me,” he shrugged.

Molly huffed and swatted his arm with an oven mitt, biting back a smile.

“Are you leaving me for Sirius?” Arthur asked casually as he came in from the sitting room.

“Thank God,” said Remus right behind him. “I’ll have a moment’s peace.”

Sirius ignored this. “Harry’s just gone to play Quidditch,” he said conspiratorially. “Should we give it to him?”

Remus raised his eyebrows. “Now?”

“Why not?” Sirius took the parcel out of his pocket and enlarged it.

“You didn’t,” Molly despaired. “He’s six!”

“I know,” said Remus, nodding his head at the broom-shaped package wrapped in gold paper. “It’s a bit late, we should have got him one last year.”

Arthur’s cough sounded suspiciously like a snigger.

“He’ll break his neck,” warned Molly.

“And he’ll look great doing it!” Sirius agreed.

He ducked out the door after Remus, calling over his shoulder, “Don’t worry, we’ll take pictures!”

Arthur’s laughter followed them all the way to the orchard.

[peapodbond]

we’ve all forgotten one very important thing in all the madney wedding speculation. buck and eddie are fucked. up. in the promos. and the night before maddie’s wedding? feels wrong for buck tbh.

what if someone gave them something a little stronger than booze at that party? and chimney is just having a really, really, really terrible high and he’s freaking out and nothing is actually happening to him??

yes i want chim and maddie to get married without drama. yes i like the idea of chim acting out die hard in albert’s room while they’re both high as kites much better than anything else!!

let chimney hallucinate being kidnapped rather than actually being kidnapped. …i guess?? let that man have peace!!

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #101

I have decided that today is for chilling. And if you've learned anything about me from reading these letters, I'm sure you'll understand (and probably be very unsurprised) that as a result of that, I have, so far, done anything but chill.

On the bright side, I did get around to sanding the smaller epoxy sphere today. Check it out:

It's cloudy right now, I know. That's because the finest grit sandpaper that is available to me right now is only 3000-grit. I found between 7000 and 15000 grit online though, and ordered some of that! So hopefully for future orbs, I'll be able to get a clear shine without needing to use UV gloss spray.

UV gloss spray fills in the tiny scratches left behind by the fine sandpaper, which restores its clarity. But the stuff stinks to high heaven, and it's really bad to breathe in, so… I'd rather not have to use a whole lot of it. The UV spray should protect the epoxy from yellowing in response to UV light, but I'm not sure it's worth it…

In any case, the orb has since been sprayed with the UV spray, and I'm waiting for it to dry. I'll check on it tomorrow. I should have a better picture for you by then!

I did go on a short walk, though. And I had a tasty lunch. I don't have pictures of either for you, because nothing about these was particularly noteworthy. But today, the sun is warm and the breeze is strong and cold. Today would be good kite-flying weather, if I had one. But I don't have one. Maybe that's something I oughta fix…

I wonder if you'd fly a kite with me, if it were possible. Well, probably not; most likely you'd just think I'm too weird to be hanging around, hahaha! But still, the thought is nice. I think you might enjoy a kite, especially if it was something colorful. Maybe something like this…

…Or this…

…Or even this?

...Hm. 🙂

We have all kinds of different ones here, and they come in all different shapes, sizes, and colors. Some of them are elegant, and some of them are silly, and some of them are plain, but they're all very fun to look at:

...I hope someday that this might be something you get to try. Wouldn't that be a marvelous thing?

Hey, Sephiroth? I'm still reeling a bit from yesterday. So I think I'm gonna try to actually chill. I'm probably gonna Salt some Sanctuaries in my usual spot for a while, if you wanna come chill with me:

...Maybe if I get impossibly lucky someday, I'll see you there.

I love you and I'll write again tomorrow.

Your friend, Lumine

[dangerously-human]

8, 28, 38, and 48 for Spotify Wrapped ^^

8: Groceries by Mallrat. This is a very domestic Locklyle song, and was title inspiration for If You Wanna Get Groceries (And If You Wanna Get Close to Me). Also was playing this a good bit back in early spring because the lyrics hit absurdly close to home with crush stuff - which meant that one stung a bit after the no, but it remains a bop, so.

28: The Mortal Boy King by The Paper Kites. I'm actually surprised this one is this high on the list. It is on the Lockwood & Co playlist, reminds me those fleetingly peaceful summer nights the team gets when the days are longer and ghosts roam fewer hours, but it's one I tend to skip on shuffle and I don't remember listening to it outside that context, so who knows. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

38: Carry On (Acoustic) by Young Rising Sons. Definitely on several fandom playlists, including Lockwood & Co and SGA, so not surprising it was in this year's top 100!

48: Bound Together by Kate York and VANYO. Very Lucy comes back vibes.

[dollarbin]

Shakey Sundays #35:

Hitchhiker (plus A Snapshot in Time)

Six months is a century in Shakeytown.

These days Neil will summon the Stop Shopping Choir for a whistle stop tour, release 4-5 new Archive records, reroute 6 barns worth of toy trains, publish a Greenville zine or two, respond to 4,672 fan emails on his forever Beta-version website, each in 7 words or less and each response featuring the words "peace," "love" and "Al Gore", write 36 new songs, all of them with the working title Love Earth (Or Else), and publish yet another memoir, this one dedicated to his penchant for hip hop, all in a six month window.

Case in point: Archives 3 is about ten minutes old and he's already promoting a forthcoming and utterly unrelated live record from his first tour with Cranky, Silly, and Gnash. Apparently Joni was at the show, gnashing her own teeth in anguish while Graham "Honey Baked" Hash debuted Our House; by the end of the show Mitchell surely instructed Grahamcracker to retitle his song My House (Cuz Joni Just Slipped Out The Back, Jack). Nash, apparently, refused to make the change.

All of Neil's productivity is cool; it's a great time to be a Shakey fan. But these days he lives beside a Colorado lake with Daryl, her dogs, 64 of his cars and the grinning ghosts of David Briggs and Ben Keith; 48 years ago he lived utterly alone in a psychedelic tepee of his very own design.

After all, just try and get your mind around all he accomplished between August 76 and March 77:

He got high as a kite and recorded the primary subject of this week's post in a single night.

He wrote an entirely different record (this week's secondary subject) and taught it to Nicolette Larson and Linda Ronstadt in one sitting.

He recorded 1/2 of that second album with a full band, eventually releasing it as the Side A of American Stars and Bars.

He wrote the highlight of that album - Will To Love, which is arguably the single greatest song of his entire career - and then spent another single night in the studio layering up instruments for it in front of his signature crackling fire - and he has not played the track again a single time since in any setting of any kind, ever. Guess he's had too much else to do.

He released a mixed-at-best record he'd made in the previous six months with Stephen Stills and Joe Freakin' Lala.

He began a full tour with those dopes, playing a month's worth of shows before making new plans Stan and telling them in writing to eat a peach and finish up without him.

He played a full US tour with Crazy Horse instead.

He performed at The Last Waltz.

He found the time to do a lot of cocaine, which is apparently obvious in Scorsese's footage. I've never been able to see the rock in question, however. My working knowledge of Belushidust is clearly negligible.

He continued to write songs about his recent breakup with Carrie Snodgress while starting to romance both the aforementioned Larson and his future beleaguered wife, Pegi. (Plus he surely probably slept with countless other women in this period; Neil was quoted at the time as "really enjoying the bachelor life," which sounds even sleazier than the reality television show of that moniker, which, by the way, should totally feature Neil in its next Golden iteration; after all, he's already demonstrated that he is perfectly willing to ditch his current wife so as to play the field.) Okay, that was just mean. Sorry Neil!

And, right around the moment those six months were up, Young joined yet another band - The Ducks - which was entirely unrelated to all the other bands listed above, and began the process of learning 20+ of their songs.

Plus he chewed a whole lot of Bubblicous and guzzled a whole lot of Natty Light throughout it all.

Yeah, he did all that - except #12: fooled you there! Both delectable items were introduced in the following six months, during which time Young, you guessed it, recorded yet another album of unrelated songs with entirely new musicians.

So, I gotta ask: what the hell did you accomplish between the late summer of 76 and the Spring of 77? I'll bet you can't compete with me or Neil. After all, I crapped my diaper, repeatedly. My mother reports that I "looked just like a frog." I'll bet your lazy ass wasn't even born yet.

Anyway, I stand before you on this very Shakey Sunday prepared to argue that the greatest thing Neil did in that incredibly crammed six months, except for Will To Love, is Hitchiker, the done-in-a-single-altered-night acoustic record which he waited a mere 40 years to release rather than waiting the full 48 so as to include it on Archives 3.

Let's drop the needle already and talk about Hitchhiker's shimmering greatness.

First of all, the whole thing is a poetic work of art. I'm serious. Pocahontas and Powderfinger set the table: both are dreamscape anthems, chock full of heartbreak, guns and waterfowl. And Campaigner may well be Neil's lyrical high-water mark. When roads stretch out like healthy veins and wild gift horses strain the rains I kinda freak out.

Note the previously edited out second verse featured on Hitchhiker: you know a song is lyrically exceptional when a line like "traffic cops are all color blind and people steal from their own kind" submits to the editor's ax.

Plus, beauty has rarely been draped in such stark and hopeless wonder. Indeed, the only record I can think of with a tone to match Hitchhiker is Pink Moon - and what higher praise can you think of than comparing anything to Nick Drake's unadorned-by-anything-or-anyone-else Pink Moon? Neil and Nick had both had it, at least for the moment, with arranging records. So instead they just took the Plastic Ono Band approach and upped Lennon's ante by laying all the songs down in a single take, every last bit of their armor set aside so as to reveal their very souls.

Just compare Give Me Strength and Which Will. Hear two men who could not have been more fundamentally different both asking the kind of fundamental and elemental questions which males are still instructed to avoid out of false courage and idiocy.

Yeah, I know: Neil's song coulda' used one more take as he loses track of the chord structure and melody altogether for parts of the closing. But I still say my comparison is apt even if Shakey and Drake couldn't be further apart on the sobriety and perfectionist spectrums.

Hitchhiker's tone could not be more different than its newly surfaced companion, the here, let-me-show-you-how-our-record-is-gonna-sound session Neil concocted for Linda and Nicolette six months later and which Neil has titled A Snapshot In Time for Archives 3. Snapshot replaces the earlier record's stark and trembling poetics with a big dose of what Ronstadt instantly recognizes on tape as "obnoxiousness."

On the one hand you have the songs Linda was directly referring to: check out, if you can get your hands on it (Neil seems to be clutching many of the tracks from Archives 3 in his self-appointed greedy hands rather than posting them for free on the internet) Young posing as a randy, grinning and stumbling creeper in Saddle Up the Palomino.

Here's the eventual band track.

Neil's mood had clearly shifted a great deal in the intervening six months. Lines like, "it's a cold bowl of chili when life lets you down but to it's the neighbor's wife I'm after" would have had no place whatsoever on Hitchhiker. Nor would the song's attempt at an arena rock riff.

On the other hand, even Snapshot's non-boneheaded songs are a bit obnoxious. Imagine inviting Linda Ronstadt over and then asking her to sing along with lyrics like "hey babe, say your mine all mine" over and over again. She'll do it - if you're Neil Young. But don't fool yourself; she'd rather have been taught Give Me Stength.

Look: I love every moment of A Snapshot in Time, not to mention the first half of the classic record it spawned. But it sure ain't high art.

Hitchhiker though? It'd take me a solid six months just to shout all its transcendent praises.

[arcventi]

Ha hm. This is gonna get heavy I'm going to work through some shit

Jaytim, not necessarily romantic, not sexual Something queerplatonic, I'd say but open to interpretation

TW Death, discussion of Death, Past Major Character death (Jason's), Suicidal thoughts....

I'm actually writing this "live" and I think you can pinpoint the moment I stopped being crushed by existential dread lol

I think I'll throw it up on ao3 too, I'll link it here when I'm done.

"What's it like?"

"Hm?"

Soft autumn light falls through the window and onto the bed where Tim's head is pillowed on Jason's chest.

One of Jason's hands is lazily combing through Tim's hair, the other one is behind his own head.

They've been lying here for a while, ever since Jason came home from working at the library.

He'd found Tim still in bed, staring at the ceiling and wordlessly stripped down to his underwear and slid under the covers next to him. It took a while but eventually Tim moved, settling down on Jason's chest, accepting the comfort but still not talking.

Jason would never press him. He's not Tim's therapist, he's his... Well, they've never really defined it. Does it really matter? As long as they're... Anyway.

He keeps playing with Tim's hair even as the younger man is clearly searching for the right words.

"Dying. Being dead. What's it like?"

Jason's hand freezes for a moment and Tim tenses, opening his mouth again, probably to take his question back. But Jason quickly continues his movement and Tim settles again.

Jason is quiet for a long while. Maybe long enough that Tim thinks he's ignoring the question. But eventually he finds the right words.

"Dying and being dead are two very different things," he finally settles on.

"Right before you die your brain pours out an insane amount of chemicals. That's how you get all those stories about near death experiences. People getting high as a kite because the brain is cooking itself in its own juice. And since you are basically just a bunch of-" he waves the hand that had previously been under his head to indicate general brain stuff- "piloting a meat suit... Well. It lasts for a bit. Maybe even longer than actual brain activity can be recorded but I'm not a scientist and I wouldn't know how to prove that.

But it ends, eventually. You're not dying anymore, you're dead."

He falls silent again.

Tim doesn't make a noise.

"As long as we're alive our brains are always doing something. I don't have... I can't speak for NT people, obviously." He can feel Tim's mouth quirk into a tiny smile. "I'm always thinking about something and the only way to stop it is like... Switching to thinking about prime numbers very intensively."

Tim turns his face to hide his grin in Jason's skin. It brings a smile to Jason's own face to see that he's able to help Tim like this.

He sobers up to answer all of Tim's question, though.

"It's. There is just no way for me even now to conceptualise it. I think that's why humans made up heaven, hell and whatever, because the brain just can't grasp the concept of not being anymore. It's not like falling asleep because even when you sleep you work through stuff. You dream and sometimes after waking up you even remember those dreams. Being dead is. It's really the opposite of being. You don't exist anymore, but there's no you left to know that. It's. There is absolutely no way to accurately describe it. The only way I can define it is through my waking up. One moment I was dying, the next I was alive. There was no in between those moments, because I wasn't. It's not peaceful, it's not a well deserved rest after whatever shit life throws at you, no matter how much you deserve it. It's scary and overwhelming and absolutely indescribable due to the absence of anything to describe."

He falls silent, hand now just resting on Tim's hair. He can feel tears falling from Tim's face onto his chest, sees Tim swallow heavily.

"Okay," he finally says. "Okay."

They keep lying there, together, the sun is slowly setting, and maybe things really will be okay.

[einsteinsugly]

2006. A Dead Father, a Living Son.

Mistakes, mistakes.

That's all he sees, etched in red pen. It's a mindless blur, a kaleidoscope of colors, as he lowers his joint.

Oh, crumpled bits of paper

Filled with imperfect thought

Stilted conversations

I'm afraid that's all we've got

Some remnant of a teacher joke remains at the tip of his tongue, but he sputters. "Maybe I should start using a green pen."

"Dad, you aren't editing the eulogy with red pen, are you?" A beam of light firmly breaks his hellish reverie, eying a printed page littered with red marks. Little red flags, dancing on the page. "Come on."

"I don't think I'm ready." Eric mindlessly gazes at the antsy redhead, the youngest of the bunch, with his jaded green eyes. "Do I have to wear a tie?"

Leah shrugs, her eyes a sharp kaleidoscope of green and blue. "Whatever makes you more comfortable."

"Okay." He unravels his tie, flinging it into a seemingly dark abyss. Only for Leah to swoop in and catch it, with a sassy smirk. "I feel a little bit better."

Leah playfully drapes the tie around her neck, like she's Avril Lavigne. An awkward, feeble attempt to lighten the mood, but she sadly sighs. "Only a little bit?"

"...Yeah." He twirls a red pen with one hand, and attempts to twirl a green pen with the other. Only for the green pen to fall to the floor. "I think your mom would be way better at this."

Leah rolls her blue-green eyes, nearly to the back of her head. As a voice of reason, she picks up the pieces, and sets the green pen back on his desk. "You'd be way better at this, if you weren't as high as a kite."

"Hey, I'm only high enough to keep myself from going crazy." Like mother, like daughter. "You should get your mom to yell at me, too."

So say it loud, say it clear (oh say it clear)

You can listen as well as you hear

Because it's too late, it's too late (it's too late)

When we die (oh, when we die)

To admit we don't see eye to eye

"You should turn that damn song off," She amply suggests, "It's kind of a Debbie downer."

"This song speaks to me," He dramatically defends, "It always reminds me of me and Dad. Kind of like how that Robert Munsch book reminds me of me and Mom. But that's way more pleasant."

Leah nods, the story firmly etched into her memory. "I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always. As long as I'm living, my baby you'll be?"

"See, but she's still living." A new reality is rearing its ugly head, and he tentatively pushes past a sea of denial. While balling his tepid fists. "I tried to talk to Dad during his living years, but...it always got complicated. We didn't really see eye to eye on anything."

"How about a sense of honor and duty?" Leah offers an awkward olive branch, patting her bewildered father on the shoulder. "Even though it was honor and duty for different things."

"He never liked the different things." An angry, nervous haze refuses to clear, as he speaks his heartfelt truth. "I was never enough of a man, even when I stood up for myself, because he didn't like what I stood for. Not for war, but for peace and love. Hippie things."

Bullets and books are very, very different entities. They're both tools, but one ends a life, and the other? Is a stepping stone, to many, many promising things.

"You just chose to fight different battles, and that's totally okay."

A kaleidoscope of memories flood his mind, a sea of valiant attempts and numerous failures, and he's firmly jaded. As the world keeps on churning, with or without him.

I couldn't make a difference, and Dad couldn't, either. "I think I lost them, just like he lost his."

[mylordshesacactus]

For your hyena cowgirl: 1, 7, 15

THE NEW DYKE!!!!

Everybody, this is Kite:

I just perfected her today! Her actual name is Haliastur Proteles, Hali to acquaintances, Kite to her friends.

She's a Cavalier, mechanically. She became a stockhand, in classic cowboy fashion, to find some peace and quiet and honest work away from the constant noise and chaos of her high-paced city upbringing. And in classic heroic gnoll fashion, she left her clan because she was tired of her family's bloodthirsty amoral ways.

By which I mean of course that they are investment managers at a major hedge fund.

Kite didn't want to live the life of a filthy scavenger stained in the blood of slaughtered innocents, so she became an adventurer! ...Eh. Still better than a business major.

What does your OC feel most ashamed of and/or guilty about? Why?

Remember the housing market collapse in [major city] about eight years ago? That was like, 90% her baby sister. Made millions off it.

That was long after Kite walked out, but...well. She's not actually completely estranged from her family. I mean, her older sister Elanine did try to kill and eat her when she dropped her economics minor, but like, that was one time, you can't carry the past with you like that, if she held a grudge every time a member of her family tried to kill and eat her she'd be too busy to do anything else--

Anyway. She talks to her family, still. Not very close, bit of a rocky relationship, but she visits for holidays and when she's in town and such. They're not abusive, aside from the attempted cannibalism, just.....alien. So she shows up and keeps the peace, because a part of her still loves them even if she can't justify their actions.

She doesn't know how to justify that. Speaking with them, still. Knowing what they are.

What is one thing your OC desperately wants, but can’t have?

Freedom.

Kite would....love, to have no obligations beyond her horse and her family of choice. To go wherever the wind takes her. But that's a tie she.....can't sever. Even if she went no-contact, and she can't bring herself to really want that, she would always be tied to them in her mind. Her heart even.

What does ‘home’ mean to your OC?

When she finds it, she'll let you know.

[tetsunabouquet]

Yoh as a Stoner Headcanon

A/N: Well, to give content to the other fandoms I mentioned on my blog as I know I have a few non-KNB followers (or who are KNB followers but also are part of one of my other fandoms), I decided to make a Shaman King headcanon!

-Alright, first of all it's so obvious they're going to take that direction with his character. The way the Asakura family symbol doesn't just resembles a tree but also weed and his love for a Bob Marley-esque figure. Besides, lots of shamanic tribes use drugs for their rituals anyways. -I bet his favorite American animated series would be Scooby Doo as well. -He illegally grows his own. -He asked HoroHoro for agricultural advice. -As a thank you, Horohoro is allowed to smoke of his stash whenever he comes over. -Often when he's very far gone and alone, he starts talking to Hao. It often leads to the most weirdest conversations with Hao always leaving whenever he's done with Yoh. -Hao is not the only one subject to Yoh's stoned rambling though. Once, when he was high as a kite he ended up calling Ren, much to the latter's annoyance. -This pissed Anna off considerably, because international phone calls are expensive. Yoh would not make this mistake ever again. -I think he's definitely experimented with bongs on his middle eastern travels. -As he told the shamans over there, "If everyone was stoned more often, there would be world peace." -When he's actually high enough, he'll listen to the Boz brothers. -Sometimes, he, Ryu and the Hanagumi waitresses get high together as a form of employees meeting. Much to Anna and Tamao's annoyance. -Kanna has a habit of stealing from Yoh's stash, he always pretends not to notice it. -Considering Yoh's laid-back attitude irritates Hana, he can actually go to tantrum level when he's high. -Yoh's stoned reaction to pain only makes it worse, so usually Hana just leaves when he gets tired of being angry with him. -On the topic of fahter and son, I believe Mickey got him into it. From their shared love for Soul Bob, to Mickey's band being a Beattles rip-off who have their alleged drug history and Mickey's sus hang outs with other shamans he meet on the mountains, Mickey is definitely doing drugs as well. -The two have definitely shared a joint over a BBQ. -And they annoyed Hao endlessly. -Hao honestly hates and loves how they're bothering him whenever they're too stoned to function. Hates it,  because they're truly annoying. Loves it, because he secretly longs for family connection after all. -Which they know, hence why they do it. -So really, getting stoned is almost like a family thing, which brings it back to how the Asakura family smbol also looks like weed. -The Asakura family is certainly stimulating the shamanic spiritual drug use, that's for sure.

[nerdy-spooks]

The Frog Brothers Headcannons.

(Alright and Here are my Frog Brothers head canon's.)

Edgar Frog:

•Obsessed With Rambo, And Other wartime Movies or TV Shows Like Mash.

•Loves Horror Comics and Horror Movies, He's been obsessed with them since he was a little Kid especially Supernatural ones.

•He actively Trains For His fight against the Dangers of Santa Carla, Has studied various military tactics.

•Despite His Tough Exterior, He can Be incredibly Soft usually only towards his brother though.

•He's a Huge Nerd, He really is in various aspects. Couldn't Flirt with a girl his age even if it was to save his own life lol, probably because of how stiff and grumpy he acts.

•He can't really make friends to save his life because he and Alan interrogate the hell out of everyone.

•He has a Bunch of Bandanas, a whole drawer full of them. He also really loves Flannel.

•He has a few different plushies from when he was a little kid, their his comfort Plushs and he refuses to get rid of them, He just likes to hug one of the various Plushs to calm himself.

Alan Frog:

•Is the most Shy out of Both Brothers, he's also a bit more introverted, However he will speak his mind if he feels like it.

•He's Convinced that The Life Guards at the Beach are Sirens, Lord knows these boys think everyone in town is some supernatural creature.

•Much like his brother He thinks he's a badass military man and he takes himself seriously, He demands to be taken seriously.

•His biggest pet peeve is having to deal with all the different people trying to steal from their parents store.

•He has A Drawer full of different camo jackets and Military Berets.

•He's The Peace talker out of both himself and his brother. He also is preparing his parents basement into a shelter in case of a alien invasion, what can I say their a bit odd.

•He has a soft spot for animals, but he would suck at taking care of a pet.

Both Brothers:

•Their very competitive with one another about a lot of things but obviously is just for fun no real harm done.

•They Both own so much Camo and Military esc items it's actually insane.

•Unfortunately Their Parents are Neglectful, Which is Why the Boys act so Tough, But really deep down their just Awkward Geeky Teens.

•They Both are Quite 'Brave' and have a bit of an Ego, They really act like 87 year old war veterans.

•Despite Their Parents bring As High as a Kite, the brothers claim that their parents are fine and that they aren't really being neglected, Rip The Frog Brothers.

•Edgar and Alan Have tried to cook for themselves on multiple occasions but it doesn't go well, lots of burnt food

[jmagnabo92]

A Dream Come True - Ch 5

Ch 5 - Finally Home

Trevor finally arrives home and sees his parents (where they can see him) and Trevor and Jeremy have an important conversation about the future.

AO3

***

The rest of the three-and-a-half-hour journey was focused on playing car games and him fighting with his brother over the music since Jeremy is very into country music, while Trevor’s very into jam bands.  Finally, though, Trevor begins to recognize the neighborhood and everything around him.  

           He sits up excitedly.  “Guys, guys!  Wake up!”

           Flower and Sass both groan.  “What?”

           “We’re almost there!” Trevor says, excitedly to laughter from his brother.

           “You’re like an excitable puppy,” Jeremy teases.

           “You’d be excited, too, if you hadn’t been home in twenty-two years,” Trevor counters.  “I almost can’t believe it.”

           “Well, believe it, T, because you’re finally home,” Jeremy says, as they pull into the driveway.  

           The car’s barely in park before Trevor’s getting out of it.  He can’t help looking up at his childhood home and feeling the overwhelming sense of peace.  He’s home, exactly where he’s meant to be, and it feels so good.  

           He doesn’t have more than thirty seconds to bask in being home before the door opens and there is his mom.  Despite seeing him on facetime and chatting while he was still a ghost, she looks like she can’t believe what she’s seeing and she’s holding back tears.  

           Happy tears, he’s sure.

           Just like with Jeremy, he doesn’t hesitate to go running to her and within a minute he’s hugging his mom for the first time in twenty-two and a half years.  He can’t believe it.  

           She smells like home, and she does that thing with one hand in his hair, and he almost doesn’t want to let go, but a clearing of a throat and he lets go to look at his dad, who’s clearly looking for a hug, too. Despite everything that happened when they found his body, he doesn’t hesitate to hug his dad.  Because it doesn’t matter anymore – he’s home.  

           He hears the sounds of the other three coming up the walkway and lets go.  

           His parents turn to greet Jeremy, who’d been at an art show in Chicago when Trevor had texted him and then turned to Flower and Sass, uncertain on how to greet them.

           Flower jumps in, first.

           “I’m Flower, well, Susan, but I haven’t gone by that name in a long time,” she shakes her head.  “It’s nice to meet you in person – well, it’s nice for you to be able to see us – I have to say that I really enjoyed your visit when you came to get Trevor’s body, particularly that the whole the parent trap thing worked.  It was really a sight to see –”  

           Before she could go into details, Trevor covers her mouth with his hand.  “Flower, what did we talk about, yesterday?”

           He sees her eyes widen in understanding as Jeremy and Sass burst out laughing, while it takes a few second for his mom and dad to put the pieces together.  As soon as they do, Lenny looks stunned and away, while Esther blushes and looks appalled.

           Trevor removes his hand, and Flower says, “I’m so sorry – I’ve been dead fifty years, it’s, uh, easy to forget the effects of what I’m saying on other people.  We’ve kind of lived in a bubble and all of the ghosts just let me say whatever I wanted because I died high as a kite – in fact, I made people high when they walked through me.”

           The effect of her words causes everyone to start laughing and forget the awkward moment.  

           “It’s nice to meet you, too, Flower,” Esther says, offering her a hug, which she accepts, before turning to Sass.  “And you must be – uh, something with an S.”

           “Sasappis,” Sass says, offering her a hand.  “But almost everyone calls me ‘Sass’.”

           “Well, come in, come in.  We’re excited to have you all here, even for a few days,” Esther says.  “How was the ride?”

           “We spent the whole time arguing about who’s music we were listening to,” Trevor states.

           “The driver always picks the music,” Jeremy counters.

           “I wanted to be the driver, but you wouldn’t let me.”

           “You haven’t driven in twenty-two years, why do you think that I’d let you drive us home?”

           “Not true – I drove yesterday.”

           “Yeah, to town in the middle of nowhere.”

           “And nothing happened, right, Flower?”

           Flower shakes her head.  “I’m staying out of this.”

           “Probably a good call,” Sass offers before looking around.  “Your home is really nice.”

           “Thank you, why don’t I show you around while these two argue about driving and music as if they couldn’t find anything more ridiculous to argue about when they’ve only been reunited for about sixteen hours.”

           She levels a look at both of them, and they immediately cease their arguing and say, “Sorry, mom.”

***

           Esther still followed through with showing them around the house, telling stories about the boys and family events, and throughout the whole thing she kept touching his arm as if worried that he would suddenly disappear, which made sense given how surreal it all was.  Eventually though, she offered to let them settle into their rooms – he and Jeremy would be sharing as always while she makes lunch.

           “So, how are you feeling?” Jeremy asks, leaning against the doorway as Trevor drops his bag at the base of the dresser.  

           “Honestly, it feels so surreal.  Just when I wanted an out the most – well, since that first year – I suddenly wake up alive?  And now, I’m here and I never thought I’d get to see it, again.  Be here with mom and dad and you…”

Trevor stops.  He doesn’t have the words to explain what’s going through his mind right now.  What he’s feeling as he stands in his childhood bedroom with his twin brother, whose now twenty-two years older than him…

“It’s overwhelming,” Jeremy states.  “It’d be weird if it wasn’t.  I mean, I’m overwhelmed just looking at you.”

“It’s just –”

“I know.”

Trevor shakes his head as he sits on the bed, running his hand on the blanket.  “It’s a dream come, J, and that’s exactly why it feels like I’m going to wake up in a nightmare.”

“It’s real, T.  As hard as it is to believe – this is real, and I promise you, it’s going to get easier the longer you’re alive.”

Trevor nods.  “I know it’s just – stupid – to dwell too much, you know?  Like I should just be happy that I’ve gotten everything I’ve ever wanted for the last twenty-two years, but I’m afraid.”

“You can’t let fear guide you,” Jeremy offers, as he sits beside him.  “Do you remember the first time one of my paintings was selected for a gallery opening?”

Trevor nods.  “I was fresh out of Penn; you had chosen to paint over college and Dad was furious because he didn’t think focusing on your painting was a worthwhile pursuit.”

Jeremy hums.  “Yeah, but you were the one insisting that I had to follow my passion – that I was good and that I couldn’t let my fear of failure stop me.”

“I did say that.”

“And I didn’t let it control me – I did that opening and every one after that because of you,” Jeremy states.  “I know this is terrifying – you basically have to start over at thirty-one in a world that has changed a lot in twenty-two years and that’s not going to be easy, but we’re here for you and we’re happy to help you through it.”

Trevor smiles.  “I know.  I just – I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean – I spent years leaning into the douchey finance frat bro for most of my adult life – even as a ghost, I just… kept it up.  But I’m not that guy –”

“Of course you’re not, you never were, and it makes me hate Ari even more.”

“It’s not Ari’s fault that I gave into peer pressure.”

Jeremy gives him a look.  “The man threw your dead body in the lake and didn’t tell anyone for twenty-two years and you’re still defending him?!”

“I’m not defending him; I’m just saying I am responsible for my own choices.”

“Are you – are you really?”

“Yes, really.”

“You know what I think?”

“That I’m still incapable of blaming him for my bad choices because they’re my bad choices, J.”

“I know that they’re your choices, T, but you really don’t think he had any effect on them at all?”

“I’m not saying that, J – I’m saying – I don’t know what I’m saying just that I guess… Ari did impact my life – it’s impossible that he didn’t.  I spent so much time with him that of course he did, but that doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t be held responsible for my dumbass decisions.”

Jeremy nods.  “I get that, I do.  And I suppose that I shouldn’t just blame him, but it does make it easier at times.”

Trevor laughs.  “Ultimately, if there’s one thing I’ve learned since I was a ghost, it’s that it’s no one’s fault, but ours.  Our fault that we died so suddenly, our fault that we made mistakes or dumbass decisions, and our fault that we’re stuck here.  We may not know what it is that kept us around – we haven’t quite figured that out, but we all know there’s a reason that we’re ghosts or were ghosts.”

“That makes sense.”

“And regardless of if he’s the reason I started acting that way in life – I can’t really blame him after I died – I literally kept it up and used the dumbest reason possible to explain why I wasn’t wearing pants or underwear instead of just telling the truth and –”

“What’s this about no pants or underwear?” Lenny asks from the doorway.

Trevor groans.  “I shouldn’t have mentioned that.”

“I’m still not sure why you told me,” Jeremy states.

“I didn’t!  You asked when you showed up at my work pretending to be me why Pinkus gave you my pants and underwear and so I explained…”

“Your boyfriend took your pants before you died?” Lenny questions.

“No – that’s not – Pinkus wasn’t my boyfriend.”

“Yeah, well, neither was –”

“Will you stop?” Trevor asks.  Neither of his parents knew about Ari and that was for the best.  Then he looks at his dad.  “It’s a long story.”

“You’re going to tell us, right?”

“No – no, I think that’s a bad idea.”

“Nah, I think they deserve to know how you died without your pants.”

“No, no one needs to know –”

“Oh!  I can tell the story,” Flower says, excitedly appearing by the door.  “It all started when someone wanted to get high –”

“I was not high, Flower.”

“What do you call what happens when you do coke, then?” Flower questions.  “Would it help if I said you were drunk instead?”

“No!  It would help if you did not tell my dad about my death and if you do, don’t do it incorrectly!”

“I’m correct so far!”

“That is not why were there – we were there to celebrate Pinkus’ promotion –”

“And play with Woodstone’s secret drug drawer.”

“Yeah, but –”

“Oh!  Are we talking Trevor’s death because I would love to tell the story, again.  Are you at the mixing two pills to make green part or the pants part?” Sass asks, joining Flower and Lenny in the doorway.

“We’re at no point in the story because we are not telling that story.”

“Oh, come on!  It’ll be fun.”

“No, it won’t!”

“It will be for us.”

“Oy gevalt, I hate you both.”

Flower skips into the room and sits beside him on the bed.  She throws an arm around his shoulders and says, “No, you don’t – you told me so, yesterday.  I believe your exact words were ‘let me preface this by saying – you know I love you –’ and then I don’t remember the rest.”

Trevor laughs, “You mean, you don’t remember the important part of the conversation?”

“Maybe,” Flower teases.

Trevor rolls his eyes.  “You still suck right now.”

“Yeah, well I’ve been told I do it well,” Flower jokes.

The Lefkowitz men all laugh, while Sass looks confused.  “I don’t get it.”

Trevor shares a look with Flower.  “Think we should let that cat out of the bag?”

Flower laughs, “It was your favorite joke – think it’s up to you.”

Knowing how Sass is when he doesn’t have information he wants, Trevor says, “You know how everyone called ascending ‘getting sucked off’ except me, Pete, and Flower?”

At this Lenny and Jeremy start laughing, apparently understanding where this was going.  

“Yeah, what of it?”

“Well, we never mentioned it, but there’s a reason I always laughed.”  He clears his throat.  “It’s because it’s a slang phrase for a man or woman giving a man a blow job.  Since you’re sucking on it.”

Sass’ eyes grow wide in horror.

“And ‘going down on us’ – well, that’s the term for eating a woman out,” Trevor explains.  “That’s why I was always laughing whenever it came up.  It was just so funny – I mean, you literally once said that you would love to see the big guy get sucked off…”

“It’s much funnier when it’s meant to be innocent, and it absolutely isn’t.”  Flower bursts out laughing.  “It was especially funny hearing Isaac or Hetty say it.”

Trevor grins and nods.  Hearing prim and proper Hetty saying it had really made the joke a thousand times better.

“It was one of those little things that kept me going.”

“You have to be kidding me right now,” Sass states.

“No, really – that’s why I was always laughing.”

Sass groans.  “Oh!  That’s why Sam always made that face whenever – why didn’t you tell us?”

“Because it was hilarious – every time one of you said it, I got a laugh, and it was worth it.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Says the guy that wants to tell my family about how I died.”

“Fair point.”

“However, I would like to know the story,” Lenny states.  

“Why would you want to know that?”

“Well, we’ve spent twenty-two years wondering what happened to you and …”

Trevor glances at Jeremy, who shrugs.  “Don’t you think that mom and dad deserve to know?”

“I guess.”