#you just get a heart transplant and now when you split into 3 you have like Mind Soul & Greg

[synthshenanigans]

a heart or brain transplant would be p fucked up to heart and mind wouldn't it

[silentxoxaria]

(gif not mine)

Sweet Tooth - Gabriel x Reader

we interrupt this program (p1) || part 4 ||

word count: 1248

warnings: typical supernatural violence, language

summary: hunting with the Winchester lead you to experience a lot of things, but you never thought you'd meet a sweet tooth Trickster.. or should i say archangel.

-

3 - We Interrupt This Program (part 2)

A blonde doctor pushed past the three of you, calling out Dr. Palmer's name in a frenzy.

"Dr. Sexy? Dr. Sexy?"

"Come on," you sighed, leading the group down the corridor after her.

"Oh, by the way, talking with monsters? Hell of a plan," Dean antagonized his brother.

"Just, what do we do now?" Sam asked.

"You know what I'm doing? Leaving," Dean declared.

He turned the corner only to come face to face with Dr. Piccolo, the woman who slapped Sam earlier. She reached up and tried to take another swig at him, but Sam was smart and dodged it easily.

"Lady, what the hell?"

"You are a brilliant, brilliant—"

"Yeah. A coward," he interrupted her. "You already said that, but I got news for you. I am not a doctor."

"Don't say that," she choked up. "You are the finest cerebrovascular neurosurgeon I have ever met, and I have met plenty. So that girl died on your table. It wasn't your fault. It wasn't anybody's fault. Sometimes people just die."

"I have no idea what you're saying to me."

"You're afraid. You're afraid to operate again, and you're afraid to love," she sobbed, leaving his side to run down the hallway in tears.

"Yeah, we're getting out of here," Sam nodded.

"Hey, Doctor?" a man asked, stopping Dean in his tracks.

"Yeah?"

"My wife needs that face transplant."

"Look, I'm sure you're a very nice man, but none of this is real, okay? Your wife doesn't need jack shit from me," Dean snapped, continuing on his way.

"Hey, Doctor," the man said once more with a look of agony on his face.

He lifted a gun to Deans chest and pulled the trigger, missing your heart by a few inches. Instead, the bullet went straight through his lower back. He escaped down the hall as Dean's eyes widened in shock.

"Real," he gasped as blood started to pool on his coat. "Guys, this is real." Gasping, Dean fell to the floor just as Sam and you realized what he were trying to say.

"No, no, no, no—hey! We need a doctor!" Sam yelled as he knelt by Dean.

Both him and you yelled around frantically for some help.

You closed your eyes for a split second and when you opened your eyes you weren't in the hallway, but facing a operating table, with Dean on it staring straight through the headrest.

"What the hell is going on?" you asked.

"BP is eighty over fifty and dropping," one of the nurses announced.

"Doctor," a scrub nurse said, holding out a scalpel to Sam.

"What?" Sam asked, exchanging glances with you.

"Fuck, do something. One of you," Dean hissed from down below.

"We don't know how to use any of this shit," Sam whispered to you.

"Figure it out," Dean snapped.

No one did anything for a while, and the nurses began looking at each other worriedly as you bled.

"Fuck this," Sam muttered to himself before speaking up to the nurses. "I need a penknife, some dental floss, a sewing needle, and a fifth of whiskey." you and the other nurses looked at him silently, not sure how to react. "Stat!"

As soon as the order was barked, the nurses scrambled to get the things that Sam requested. When he got everything he needed, he began sewing Deans skin up.

As Dean was finished getting patched up the room transformed, no longer were you in a operating room but on a game show stage, Sam and Dean were standing in shoes glued to a platform with only one ball attached to a pole, and you, you were standing near Sam but you were in a new outfit, red skirt, top that was almost a bra, white boots and a devil horn head band.

A Japanese man come out of the doors you were staring at with two women trailing behind him, the two women were wearing the same outfit as you.

"Let's play Nutty Cracker!" he yells, and the audience sheers. He says something in Japanese before pulling out cards from his jacket.

"Sam Winchester," he said, speaking the question in Japanese. What was the name of the demon you chose over your own brother? You three didn't understand a bit of what he was saying, but it didn't matter to the man.

"Countdown!" he announced once he was finished.

The big countdown clock started ticking backwards from twenty.

"Uh, what am I supposed to say?" Sam asked you and Dean.

"You think I know?" Dean screeched.

"Uh, I don't—I don't understand Japanese," Sam said to the host who only repeated the question in his native tongue."Is he screwing with me? I—I can't speak Japanese."

The screen behind him reached zero which sounded off a loud buzz. The host said something in Japanese, saying the answer in English.

"Ruby! I'm sorry, Sam Winchester."

"Sorry? Sir? For what?" Sam asked in a

panic.

The host could only laugh just as the ball attached to Sam's platform rushed up and whacks Sam in the crotch. Dean is clearly horrified, and Sam doubled over in pain as much as he could.

"Nutty Cracker!" The host yelled.

"Sam?" Dean asked. His brother makes an inarticulate noise in response. "You okay?"

Sam could only glare at his brother since he couldn't seem to form the words on his own. Dean looked at his own platform, saw the ball, and began to panic.

The lights on the door began flashing which could only mean that someone or something was coming through those doors.

"What now?" Dean groaned.

The door opened to reveal Castiel, and the crowd cheered at his presence.

"Castiel?" you gasped as you tried to run over to the angel but you couldn't, it was like your feet were glued to the ground.

"Is this another trick?" Sam asked once he gathered the nerve to.

"It's me. Uh, what are you doing here?"

"Us? What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you. You've been missing for days."

"Get us the hell out of here, then!" you yelled.

"Let's go," he said, raising his arms to touch Sam and Dean on the forehead.

However, after taking two steps to you, he vanished in the same manner as the Trickster.

"No, no, no," the host tsk'd, and reached into his jacket pocket for more cards, "Mr. Trickster does not like pretty-boy angels. Dean Winchester."

The host moved onto the next brother and asked a question in Japanese. Would your mother and father still be alive if your brother was never born?

"Countdown!"

"What do I do, what do I do?" Dean panicked when he saw the clock count down from twenty. "I don't wanna get hit in the nuts."

"I don't know, I- wait!" Sam gasped.

His mouth began moving, but you weren't really focusing on his words.

The countdown reached zero, but before it had a chance to buzz, Dean pressed his button. Dean answered the question in Japanese and you and Sam just stood waiting for the results of his answer.

"Dean Winchester! The Nutty Cracker Champion!" the host changed the subject, congratulating the winning brother.

"We play the roles to survive, we survive." Sam said to Dean and you.

"I'm guessing I don't have that big of a role" you said, and Dean let out a laugh when he realized you were wearing the same outfit as the two other women on the game show.

[assassins-and-hidden-blades]

Apocalypse!AU -- Field Medicine

I 100% could write the events leading prior to this to satiate curiosity, but rn this is all my inspiration is giving me -- hope you like enjoy it! If you want more of this AU, pls let me know! 

Feedback is always appreciated!

Warnings: Violence, swearing, blood mention, field surgery

Tagging (if you wanna be tagged, lmk!): @marshmallow--3 // @yourlocalfrenchie // @rahdaleigh (idk why this isn’t tagging im so sorry) // @sofiewithat /// @iceboundstar // @mythandmagik // @britishhotassassin

Assassin’s Creed Mobile Masterlist

Red Dead Redemption 2 Mobile Masterlist

----------

“Get down!” 

You ducked for cover as a pipe bomb was thrown towards your group. 

Jacob, Connor, Altair, and you were hunting for supplies in a nearby town when you were ambushed by a group of hunters. They outnumbered you by about five to one. 

“Altair! What do we do?!” Jacob peeked over to fire a few aimed shots. 

You all looked over to the leader in question, who was catching his breath behind an old car. You could see the gears turning in his head before he came to a final conclusion. 

“Run.” Another pipe bomb went off. “Run!” 

He led the way to an abandoned shop building that could provide cover, Connor following closely behind with you and Jacob bringing up the rear. Feeling the bullies soar past your head, you ducked as Jacob tripped. You stopped to help him up. “Go!” He waved you off, shakily getting to his feet. 

You vaulted through what was once a window pane and ducked, Jacob clumsily following suit. He landed on his side with a groan. “Hey, are you okay?” You asked, pulling him back against the bricks. Once he settled, you could see his hand clutching his side. What made your heart palpitate was what he was covering. 

Blood.

“Shit! You’ve been shot!” You turned to Altair, who paused firing and stared. 

“What?!” 

“I’ll be fine.” Jacob rested his head back against the wall, taking deep breaths. 

“What are our options?” Connor asked, looking through his rucksack.

A flurry of gunshots flew above your heads. 

“Option 1: We leave him and escape ourselves.”

You scoffed at Altair’s suggestion. “Don’t even think about that.”

“I know! Look— we either try and make a run for it now or we split up and hide; one of us with Jacob while the other two pick them all off.”

You all exchanged glances. “That could work.” 

Jacob shifted and hissed. 

You wrapped his arm around your neck. “I’ll take him upstairs. Keep them off our backs and don’t get shot.”

The two nodded. Connor passed you a first aid kit and some alcohol. “You know what to do.” 

Smiling reassuringly, you motioned for them to get moving. The two of them ran across the street, drawing fire until they were safely across the street. The firing stopped. 

“They split up. Find them. Preferably in one piece, but I can settle for one.” The voice obviously belonged to the one in charge. “The girl. She’ll be the easiest.” 

You and Jacob exchanged glances. “Come on,” you whispered, half dragging him up the stairs. You entered the room at the end of the hall and locked the door behind you. Luckily, the windows were boarded up, so they didn’t see you go in. Unluckily, the windows were boarded up, so there was no escape without making noise. 

The room wasn’t big nor small; but it had a walk in wardrobe that was big enough for now. You set Jacob down gently, kneeling next to him by the side of the wound. Taking a breath, you took in his complexion; sweating, pale, panting. You looked down to see his hand almost drenched in the crimson liquid, which has been dripping a subtle trail after the two of you. “Shit!” You half whispered, taking out the first aid kit and alcohol. Pushing up his shirt, you offered a roll of bandages to his lips to bite down on. He accepted, albeit weakly. “This will hurt, but you have to stay quiet, okay?” He hummed a broken affirmation, grabbing your free arm, assumingly for moral support. “On three; one, two, three…” slowly, you poured the liquid over the wound. Pained gasps leaked through the bandages as his jaw clenched tightly, tension flooding down his neck.”I’m sorry!” You apologised as his grip on your arm tightened tenfold. Opening the first aid kit, you immediately went for gauze to pack the wound with.

“You have to take it out.” 

You turned to meet his eyes as he held the bandages in his other hand. “Please,” her continued. “I can feel it moving inside of me.”

“But I’m not a surgeon! I can bandage a wound but I’m nowhere near transplant surgery.”

“I’m not asking you for a transplant.” He pulled out some tweezers from the kit. “I’m asking you to remove a bullet.”

You sighed, reluctantly taking them. “I was shit at Operation, you know.”

“Now’s your chance to practice.” He balled up the bandages and bit down on them again, bracing himself for the intrusion of the tweezers. 

“Ah, fuck.” Slowly, you pressed them inside the wound, trying to ignore the hitched breaths beside you. Instead, you focused on touch, waiting to feel the contact with the metal ball waiting for you inside. It took a few moments, but finding it gave you the equivalent feeling of striking gold. “I got it. Holy shit, I got it.” As you pulled it free of Jacob’s flesh, you could see his muscles relax, along with a fresh flow of blood. Quickly, you packed it to try and stem the bleeding, evoking another gasp. “I’m so sorry.” 

He pulled out the bandages, chucking them back to the kit. “Had to be done.”

You turned your head back to the first aid kit, eyes wandering for a needle and sutures when you heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Jacob swallowed, ears picking up on the calculated thumps as well. “Please be the guys, please be the guys…”

“Check all the rooms. Don’t miss anything.”

“Shit!” 

Instead of stitches, you grabbed some surgical tape.”We’ll have to finish this later.” The words barely escaped as you spoke, practically mouthing them in an effort to stay quiet. You taped the gauze to his side, heart rate increasing as the sounds began to increase in volume; they were getting closer. 

You packed everything away and straddled Jacob to peer past the wall at the locked door, gun in hand. You cocked it ever so quietly, aiming it square in the centre. Jacob’s blood soaked hand took your chin gently, a complete juxtaposition to the image in front of you. “Hey,” he said. “We’ll come out of this just fine.”

You wanted to believe him. You really did. 

The door handle began to shake. “Fuck, I hope so.”

You’ve never been this scared in your entire life. 

Someone kicked at the door and you flinched. Hands shaking, you tried to steel yourself with a deep breath. Pulling the hammer down, you waited as a boot came down two, three, four times. The fifth time actually working took you off guard. Two figures stormed in, and you shot multiple times as they crossed the short distance. The gun was kicked out of your hand and you were thrown off of Jacob to the middle of the room. You blinked as your back hit the floor, hands coming up as a figure landed on you, a hand wrapping around your throat. A man of at least six feet with muscles as wide as your head had you pinned to the floor easily. Instinctively, your hands wrapped around his wrist. 

“Not so fast.” The other figure spoke, and a second later had thrown Jacob into view, a sharp quick to his injured side. He let out a pained noise, bringing a knee up to protect himself. “This one’s in bad shape; wonder if he’s worth it.” A gun was aimed at his head.

Your eyes widened.”No!” You tried to claw the man’s hand off of you. “Please don’t.”

He let out a laugh. “Oh, he’s worth it, alright.” Pulling handcuffs out of his back pocket, he threw a pair to his partner. He squeezed your neck tightly, attracting your hands. He quickly slapped a cuff onto one of your wrists. “Turn around.”

You glared defiantly.

“Turn around, or he dies.”

Your eyes flicked between your attacker and Jacob, who couldn’t put up much of a fight in his half lucid state; restraining him took almost no effort at all, and now he had a gun pointed at his brain. 

You gave in, not turning around but allowing him to move you into his desired position to bind your hands behind your back. He leaned into your ear. “When we get back, you’ll be worrying about more than a bullet wound.” 

He pulled you up harshly by the arms. Simultaneously, two gunshots went off. You lost your balance, falling onto your knees. Looking over the bed, you saw Connor and Altair aiming their guns. “Took you long enough!” All tension dissipated from your body, and you almost collapsed. Altair searched the body for the keys. 

“Jacob?” Connor’s voice sounded from behind you.

“Is he okay?” You had your back to him, but Altair kept you straight.

“Two seconds.” When you felt the cuffs fall off your wrists, you immediately went to Jacob. 

Connor had uncuffed him, but he was still unmoving. “Help me turn him over.” Once on his back, Jacob gasped. 

“Great timing,” he quipped sarcastically. 

“Alright, we get it.” Altair pushed Jacob’s shirt up to see the entire square of gauze a dark red.

“Did you stitch him?” He asked calmly, motioning for the first aid kit.

“We got a little preoccupied.” You couldn’t help but feel guilt over Jacob’s deteriorating condition. You passed him the kit from your bag. 

Altair took it and got to work, as if he’d done this a million times before. 

“What about the bullet?”

“I took it out.” 

Altair sighed. “That was meant to stay in, Jacob.”

At this point, all Jacob could do was smile; vague but smug.

“Altair, how do you know all this?”

He didn’t take his eyes off of Jacob as he spoke. “I used to be in the military.” Noticing Jacob had closed his eyes, he snapped his fingers next to his face. Swallowing, Jacob blinked. “Keep him awake, Connor.” He began to suture. “I-uh, a friend of mine died from an injury in the field. It was my fault. He bled out because I never learned how to stitch a fucking wound. I spent hours afterward learning how to deal with field injuries— I wouldn’t let anyone die on me again.”

He wiped the now closed wound with more gauze, and quirked his lips when he saw that no new blood appeared. He covered the wound with more gauze and taped it down to his skin. “And here I thought you hated me.” Jacob chuckled weakly, trying to sit up. 

“No.” Altair pressed his hand against his chest. Instead, he offered a flask of water. “Drink this.” 

Jacob didn’t question anything, doing what the expert told him. 

“We stay here until he recovers some strength. We won’t be able to carry him back to camp.”

“Are you sure it’s safe here? What if more of their group come and see the massacre?” 

“With any luck, they’ll assume that we’re long gone.”

“Okay.” You sat down, pulling Jacob’s head gently into your lap. “Time to get comfy.”

[chachkayes]

Wait For Me

“Hayes!” Meredith called out as she saw him walking by, as she stepped foot in her hospital. His smile upon hearing her voice and seeing her in person made her heart glow, and her smile quickly matched his.

Their eyes were locked as he walked over to her. “Welcome back.” He said softly, with a small smirk. “How’d this place hold up while I was gone?” She teased, the tension between them palpable. “What, you think this place would fall apart without you? I’ll have you know, things went incredibly smooth.” He volleyed right back, a tiny laugh slipping out as he continued to look in her eyes.

“How was your trip?” He asked as he stepped closer to her, his fingertips lightly brushing hers. She looked down at their hands before finally lacing their fingers together and looking back up at him with a smile. “It was… good, I guess.”

“You guess? What does that mean?” He asked, before seeing her face turn more serious than previously. “Meredith, what’s going on? Did something happen?” Quickly they walked to a bench to talk on.

“Minnesota offered me a whole research lab to help try and cure parkinsons.” Meredith said as they sat down. The smile off Hayes’ face dropped. “You said no, right? I was serious, I cannot go through any more interviews.” Eliciting a small laugh from Meredith before the mood went back to serious.

“I mean… I didn’t say no, but I also didn’t say yes either. I don’t know yet.” Hayes could tell something more was bothering Meredith aside from the lab. “What else?” When Meredith sighed, he prepared himself for the worst.

“Hayes… I…” She stopped herself. She felt like she couldn’t say it out loud. She didn’t know how he’d react. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.” He reassured her, squeezing her hand. “I slept with someone while I was away.”

In a split second, Hayes felt his world come crashing down. He quickly let go of her hand and looked at her in shock. “Please let me explain, it’s not because I don’t want you, or because I’m mad at you. But he was someone I had history with, and he was there, and I didn’t think it would be a big deal because…” Meredith stopped when she saw the hurt in Hayes’ eyes. “Because I was the one that ended things between us.” He finished her sentence. He could see the guilt on her face.

“It’s fine, Grey. Really. You don’t have to explain yourself to me. We weren’t together, it’s fine.” Hayes told her, reverting to his hard exterior and reserved stance. Hearing him call her ‘Grey’ felt like a punch to the chest. “I’m sorry, Hayes. Thank you for understanding. I have to go, but I’ll see you around, okay?” She said before kissing his cheek and walking away.

“Okay.” He said, to himself, sitting alone on the bench, feeling like his heart had just been shattered into a million pieces.

The rest of the day, he felt himself losing himself to the heartbreak. And it was pretty much all his fault. He tried his best to avoid her, avoid how much he still wanted her, avoid remembering the fact that in the 3 days she was gone, she moved on. Even though it was for the health of Austin, he still couldn’t help but berate himself for ending things. Maybe their first reunion after her trip would have been different.

Meredith could tell he was avoiding her, and she felt awful. So, she invited Maggie over after work to drink and get her advice. “Mags, you remember how I told you I was seeing someone?” Meredith blurted out once they’d gotten their drinks. “Uh, yeah? Why?” Maggie asked, confused.

“That someone was Hayes. And he ended things because his son was having troubles with it. Which, obviously I understand. But it ended before it really even began… and then I slept with someone in Minnesota. Nick, I slept with Nick.” Maggie’s jaw dropped and she took another swig of the tequila. “The transplant surgeon whose kidney you saved?” Meredith nodded. “Did you tell Hayes?”

“I mean yeah, it would feel wrong not to.” Meredith admitted, with Maggie immediately responding, “And what did he say?” Meredith took a sip of her drink and slunk back into her couch. “That it was fine and I didnt have to explain myself to him. But now it feels like he’s avoiding me.” Her sense of guilt crept back up. He said he was fine. She could feel Maggie’s newlywed judgement eyes judging her.

“You hurt him Mer, he says he’s fine but obviously he’s not - just because he stopped seeing you for his kid doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to be with you anymore. He’s hurting bc while he’s been waiting for you and waiting for his kid to get better after your short relationship ended, you slept with someone else.”

[fleckcmscott]

Watch What Happens - Chapter 12

Chapter links: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11

Summary: Arthur, an aspiring comedian, has struggled to find normalcy and compassion his entire life. Y/N, a hard-working paralegal and transplant to Gotham, has just been put on a case for the Wayne Foundation. When they meet, unexpected sparks fly.

Chapter warning: Angst, Swearing, Smut

Words: 3,526

A/N: Again, special thanks to @rommies​ for beta-ing this!

Y/N had to do a double-take at the clock when she woke up: 3:40 AM. Normally she stirred around six. Regardless of the early hour, she couldn't stop a wide smile from breaking out across her face. Even if it meant she'd be a little hazy at work, she wouldn't mind having a couple extra hours with Arthur. She rolled over and stretched, reaching out to his side of the bed. It was empty, but his warmth lingered. Closing her eyes and moving to snuggle into his pillow, she thought of his mouth against her neck, the heady feeling of his lithe, surprisingly powerful body rutting into her, his startled look after she'd come. She giggled, hoping he'd hurry back for a second round.

It occurred to her that it'd been a bit foolhardy to sleep with him already. But about eighty-seven percent of her knew she had already fallen for him. That wouldn't have changed if she'd put off propositioning him for another couple of weeks. However, she wasn't sure she would have pressed so soon if she'd known she'd be his first. He'd been so nervous at the beginning - she'd almost felt predatory, with him standing there in his jacket, looking uncomfortable. But once he'd assured her that he wanted it, wanted her, as much as she desired him, she thought it had been wonderful.

But she was left with questions, all of which were related to the same theme. He'd briefly mentioned his acute loneliness during some of their calls - how on earth could he have been alone his whole life? What had happened? There were ten million people in Gotham - surely he must have been noticed by someone. It didn't make sense.

When they'd lain together in the dark, her head next to his, her fingers playing with the sparse hair on his chest, she'd tried to find out. "I really don't understand," she'd said. "I would have snapped you up if I found you a decade ago. Were you hiding from your mother in some dark Gotham subway tunnel?" she'd teased. When she'd sensed his discomfort, she tickled his ribs gently.

He'd snorted and stopped her hand, placed it flat against his stomach. "No." It was silent for a few minutes, then he'd turned to her, boosted up on his arm. In the dim light from the windows, she could see uncertainty in his eyes. "Is it a problem?"

"Not in the slightest." She’d stroked his hair, now completely loose from the gel he’d used to slick it back. "I just want to know you."

Arthur had nodded and let out a soft hum. His voice was tinged with sadness when he finally answered. "Stop worrying about me." The kiss he'd pressed to her forehead had been faint. "Go to sleep. You have work tomorrow." She'd narrowed her eyes at him before agreeing, rolling over and drifting off with his chest against her back, his arm around her waist.

Sitting up, Y/N looked at the clock again. It was just past four and he still hadn't returned. Maybe his bashfulness had gotten the best of him and he'd gone home. She turned on the bedside lamp and looked at the chair. A breath of relief came when she saw his clothes were still there. She got up, grabbed her robe from the foot of the bed, and tied it around herself as she made her way to the bedroom door. Slowly, she cracked it open and peered out.

Arthur was seated on her couch, leaning forward, writing in his joke book. He'd put the lamp on, so she could see him clearly in the soft light. He was muttering to himself as he wrote, words she couldn't make out. A quiet chuckle escaped him; she assumed he was practicing the delivery of his jokes.

Every few seconds he stopped, sometimes putting the pen down, other times fiddling with a piece of his hair before writing again. His cigarettes and lighter were out, but she didn't smell any smoke. That meant he must have been on the fire escape, even though he was only in his trousers, it was the middle of the night, and freezing outside. She smiled at the sight of his toes wiggling in his white socks.

During a particularly long pause, when he looked pensive, she stepped out and towards him. He didn't seem to notice her at first. But when she got closer, he quickly shut the notebook and looked up at her, eyes wide. He cleared his throat and tried to smooth his hair. "Hi."

She sat next to him on the couch and kissed his cheek. "Hi. Working on new material for next time?"

Slowly, he sat back against the cushions. But he didn't turn to her. "Something like that."

Her hand reached to lay on his abdomen, gently stroking the firm muscle there. "When did you wake up?"

"I didn't sleep."

She could tell the usual tension he held in his body had returned. Trying to ease it, she bent her head to his shoulder. "It's hard to sleep in a new place." She let her eyes fall to the notebook. It was close enough for her to read the cover:

City of Gotham Department of Health Case no. 064823 Therapist: Dr. Kane Patient: Fleck, Arthur

She swallowed. Having a case and therapist assigned at the Department of Health meant he'd had problems in the past. That he'd posed a risk to someone else or, more likely, himself. And he'd either been distrusted or too poor to get help on his own. Given his apartment, the nature of his job, and his disabled mother, she assumed it was the second option. But she couldn't ascertain how long ago whatever happened happened. It could have been years. Or months.

His knees started to bounce, and she watched as he started to chew his thumbnail. She nestled against his jaw. "You can talk to me. I'm not planning on going anywhere."

They sat in silence for awhile before Y/N backed away and rested on her legs, looking at his profile. His brows were pinched together, and a glower was on his face. He appeared to be focused on his lap. When she traced his smile line, his skin twitched. "Why did you invite me here?" Arthur breathed.

She flinched. "What?" Frowning, she lowered her hand. "How can you-"

"What is this?" He continued. "I'm a party clown. I live with my mother. I don't even understand what your job is."

The hurt that had initially flashed through her faded as she understood. His ever present self-doubt was back. Her words were spoken kindly but firmly. "I lived with my father when I cared for him. And no, I never would have thought to hire a party clown. I still wouldn't - unless it was you. And, yes, I have a good job and education. They're important to me, but they’re not everything."

A bitter huff left him. "I've lost every job I've ever had. No matter how hard I try to do good, I fuck up." He rubbed his face and sighed. "I'm gonna fuck this up, too." 

She scooted closer, kneeling next to him so she could try to pull him into her arms. He remained stiff, apart from nudging his forehead against her when she kissed it.

"I know you saw my medications when you came over." His tone was soft, full of trepidation. "I can imagine what you must think."

"That you take medication." Even as she said it, Y/N knew the answer was too easy, especially with his notebook sitting right there. But, for the moment, she needed it to be. And she thought he needed it, too. "I took medication for a little while. I would have lost it if I hadn't." She winced, remembering all the times she'd failed and how poorly she'd handled the end stages of care giving. She gestured to the joke book. "You're obviously trying. You're driven to follow your crazy, amazing dream of being a comedian. You care for your mother. You do fucking housework."

That got a snort out of him, but he sniffled and wiped his nose nervously. "They weren’t just for my condition." The way his voice trembled made her stomach ache. His hand followed the edge of her coffee table as he bent forward, elbows on his knees. "They were for... Because..." He closed his eyes and laughed softly, shaking his head.

Y/N started caressing his oddly jutting shoulder blade, her touch running down his spine. Her palm lay flat against his ribs. His heart was pounding, and she could feel the slight tremor in his frame as his breath hitched. "Arthur," she started, wanting to protect him, and, if she was honest, part of herself. "Tell me when you're ready. Not because you're afraid of my reaction when I find out." She kissed the top of his bicep. "I trust you," she said.

Even with her reassurance, he was still radiating anxiety minutes later. She nudged his side. “I think we’ve reached some sort of milestone,” she quipped, hoping to see his dimples again. “We’ve both gotten emotional on my sofa. In record time.”

At that, Arthur chuckled and started to relax, eventually leaning back against the arm of the couch and pulling her to him. She snuggled deeper into his embrace, nuzzling his face. "Y/N,” he said, his voice soft and raspy, “until a little while ago, it was like no one ever saw me." His eyes shut as he scoffed. "Even I didn't know if I really existed."

"You do," she said firmly, squeezing him tight around the middle. "You do."

"I do," he confirmed, pulling back to look at her. She smiled as his thumb traced her bottom lip. "You're the best thing in my life. The only good thing. I..."

Y/N froze for a split second, and was glad he didn't seem to notice. Being put on a pedestal was the last thing she wanted.

Though, she thought, he was one of the best things to happen to her, too.

"I'm just me, Arthur. I'm nothing special. And that's fine. I'm good with that."

He looked bewildered. "Why do you keep saying that? You're wrong."

"Psh. You haven't known me long enough." She smirked at him. "I'm eventually going to pester you to the point where you'll answer any questions with a grunt until I leave the room."

He leaned into her. "That won’t happen,” he said before his mouth met hers. It started off tender, but soon it turned hard, his lips groping at her. When he broke their connection, resting his forehead on hers, she noticed how labored his breathing had become. Groaning, he bent to kiss her again, tilting his head as his tongue pressed against her.

Despite his messy eagerness, and perhaps because of it, Y/N’s core started to ache. The memory of him inside her, stretching and searing her with his generous girth, was enough to prompt a whimper. She pulled him to her as she lay down. He followed, hands moving next to her head to hold himself up.

Admiring the toned, slender musculature of his thin frame, she stroked down his chest and over his stomach. When she traced the line of faint hair leading to his groin, he moaned in her mouth. God, he was making her wet again already. “I want you,” she purred, reaching to unbutton his pants.

Gently, Arthur caught her wrist. “Um.” He winced and looked away from her. “I need another hour or two. I’m - I’m sorry.”

The embarrassment on his face tugged at her. They weren’t teenagers. And when she’d taken one medication, her sex drive had gone dormant.  Hell, it could happen to anyone. She kissed his temple and resumed her caresses, smiling at him. “It’s all right. Should I take a long lunch break and stop by your apartment?” Her voice dropped. “I promise I can be quiet.”

“No, but…” He swallowed, his eyes flicking to hers. “I don’t know how to ask this.” A blush crossed his face as he moved to kneel in front of her on the floor. He pulled her to him, holding her against his chest. When his mouth met hers, it was hot, bolder than she’d expected.

The bottom of her robe hitched up around her waist as she opened her legs, allowing him to pull her flush against him. Her hips jerked, feeling how close his abdomen was to her vulva. “Arthur, don’t be so damn polite,” she breathed. “God, you make me so horny.” She laughed at herself as she said it. It had been a long time since someone had inspired her to be brazen - it was fun.

“Do I?” he answered playfully, mildly surprising her, as his lips trailed to her neck. He reached for the tie of her robe and pulled slowly, his voice lowering, a little more serious. “How?”

Y/N arched into his hands when he tenderly palmed her breasts, kisses ghosting against her sternum. “By being you.” Her fingertips followed the diagonal lines of muscle starting under his arms, around to his back. The heat of his skin sunk into her. “And it doesn’t hurt that you’re beautiful.”

“Sure,” he said sarcastically, kissing the underside of her breast.

As his lips went lower, across her stomach, she dragged her thumb over his dark brow. “You are.”

When his mouth traversed her abdomen and pressed above her pubic bone, she realized where he was headed. She let out a shuddering breath and stilled, heat pooling in her throbbing center. He stopped, his eyes closed. After a few seconds, she stroked back his hair. “Arthur, you don’t have to-”

“Do you want me to stop?” he interrupted quietly.

“Definitely not.” She giggled. “I’m just surprised you want to do that already.”

“Already?” he scoffed. He looked up at her. The shy determination in his eyes stole her breath. His grip on the outside of her thighs tightened. “I’ve- I’ve wanted you since you saw me at the donut shop.” The bridge of his nose pressed against her hip. “After you touched me. And I knew I didn’t make you up,” he murmured.

That admission, that he’d pined for her after two brief interactions, would have alarmed her if she didn’t know him. Now it made her shiver.  Her fingers grazed the plains of his handsome face, sweeping over his cheekbone. It marveled her how he could be simultaneously heartbreaking and arousing.

His left hand moved to her inner thigh and slowly pushed it, spreading her legs further. When he lifted his head to look at her, it stunned her. Then she dared to look, too. Her folds were glistening and swollen, engorged to the point where the hood was peeking out from her labia, and she could see a hint of the edges of her inner lips. She jumped lightly when he opened her with his thumbs, his damp breath hitting her.

A man had never just stared at her before. It was starting to make her uncharacteristically self-conscious. She squirmed a bit. She was about to open her mouth and, probably, ruin the moment when he pressed a kiss to her sex.

Automatically, her hips rolled towards his mouth, her legs twitching. The round tip of his nose brushed against her bundle of nerves as he nuzzled against her. Quickly, he parted his lips and pressed his tongue against her opening, then dragged it up to her sensitive nub. “Arth-Arthur…” The need in her own voice surprised her. At the cry of his name he exhaled sharply, and his hands went back to her thighs, holding them open.

She was trying to control her reactions. As far as she knew, he hadn’t done this before (though judging by how he was doing, he must have at least read up on it). She didn’t want to buck into his face and freak him out. But it was getting harder for her to concentrate on holding back. When they’d started, the tightly wound string inside her had already been on the verge of snapping. As the tip of his tongue swept against her clit, her hand went to his hair, holding gently. Her other went his shoulder and squeezed.

“Fuck, there,” she gasped. His lips were stroking her clitoral hood the way they would seek out her mouth. Leaning back against the sofa cushions, she thrust up against him carefully, pleasure spiking through her. One foot was planted on the floor, while she tried to brace the other on the coffee table. But the table lurched forward unexpectedly and she lost her grip on it, causing her leg to fall onto Arthur’s back.

He let out a slight “oof” and pushed his forehead against her abdomen, chuckling as he shrugged off her leg. “I’m trying to concentrate,” he said, amused.

“Sorry!” In the next second, his tongue was back on her, and her laughter turned to a moan. “Oh, god,” she breathed. He groaned against her, then, and the vibration caused her to roll up harder against him. She thought he must he liked it, because his strong hands went to her hips, pulling her tighter to him.

Gazing down at him, she brushed his loose curls out of his face. The sight of his mouth on her, his jaw moving, his lips and tongue working, forced a whine out of her. He must have felt her stare, because he opened his eyes and met hers, just for a moment. A flush rose up his neck and spread to his face, which charmed her. How could her looking at him cause that reaction when he was laving at her the way he was - and obviously enjoying it? His eyelids shut as he picked-up speed.

He became bolder as his tongue quickened, his lips closing over her hardened clit and gently sucking. Unable to hold herself up any longer, she let her head fall back. Her other hand joined the one in his hair, holding him to her as her hips moved faster, seeking contact. Her whole body was tightening as her movements started stuttering, her cries getting louder and more unintelligible as he licked and sucked her off.

The tension inside her finally broke as she came, pulsing against his mouth. Warmth spread through her as she curled up towards him, her arms coming around his head and shoulders. It felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. Her breathing stopped every few seconds, followed by deep gasps as she tried to gulp air into her lungs. Arthur was still between her legs, tonguing at her. She had to push him back when it started to hurt.

She saw him wipe his mouth with the back of his hand before he rose and embraced her, holding her to him as she quivered. His lips were on her breasts and neck before pressing, hard, against her mouth. She hissed as he thrust his abdomen against her, pinching her brows together as he ground against her clit. When she steadied her breath and opened her eyes and gazed up at him, he looked pleased. And a little smug. She liked that on him for a change.

Her hands cupped his face, bringing him to her, and she kissed him deeply. “Arthur… God.”

His palm went to her chest, over her heart. “Are you all right?” The corner of his lip went up. “Are you gonna have a heart attack?”

“It’d be worth it.” Thrilled, she leaned her forehead against him. “Should I add this to Dr. Sally’s thank you card?”

Making a non-committal hum, he wrapped his arms around her waist and laid his head on her shoulder. His eyelashes tickled her neck as his eyes fluttered shut.

It was quiet then. The intense rush of emotions she felt, holding him to her, was unexpected. Especially after the easy comfort of last night. She closed her eyes and kissed the top of his head, then rubbed her cheek against it. In this instant, she didn’t have to worry about his troubles or his past. He seemed happy and at peace. Her heart was full. She wrapped her legs around him, trying to extend the moment to forever.

Of course, it didn’t work. Arthur’s voice was soft when he spoke. “I- I should go home. I need to be there before my mother wakes up.”

She bit her lip and nodded. It was obvious he felt bad about leaving. “It’s all right. I understand.” She tightened her thighs’ grip on him before letting him go, though, and smiled when he lifted his head. “I’m having Patricia - a colleague - over tonight. I can call you when she leaves.” His eyebrow lifted. “Then you can come by and I can return the favor,” she said, swatting his bottom lightly.

Blushing, he ducked his head bashfully. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll head over as soon as I hear your voice.” Then he pushed his mouth to hers.

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​ @clowndaddyfleck​ @stephieraptorr​ @rommies​ @sweet-nothings04​ @invisiblewispofwhimsey @let-the-stars-fall-in-the-abyss​

[alimpson]

...

I went down another rabbit hole and discovered I have T9 backstory headcanon. Have had since shortly after we met him.

Under hidetag. Kinda stream of consciousness-y, so it’s dumped under hide tag 

it’d be dumped there even if it wasn’t.

Summary: I think I had ‘issues’ when I was younger. I now have different issues.

T9 Headcanons

I always thought T9 was found. A broken body with life still in it. Modified later. Whoever found him paid for the cyborgization. And then sent him out to hunt down the CESe (1).

Found after a space ‘accident’, * only survivor. 

So they didn’t add… ‘negative options’ (2)

He had brain damage. They fix brain, not memories. Lost memories are lost.

Guy was like “Hey Boss, there’s half a corpse floating in space”. Boss was like “Hey Guy, that’s kinda hazardous. Bring it in to be disposed of properly. Or we could test stuff on -wait- check for pathogens first”

Guy was like “Fuck! This guy’s still alive!”(6) So they medic’d him, (3) 

Stuff happened, they parted ways. T9 has amnesia. (4)

Shit happened and he got to collect on CESe bounty.

*Probably not an accident. Envy equivalent may have been responsible for the accident. Or someone after their transport.  (5) Then the CESe (1) got loose. Wasn’t anyone on board’s fault. They then caused trouble. (7) People on the transport died. People not on the transport also died. They split. 

(1) 7 Corrupt Elemental Spirits equivalent is a lot of words to type. Referring to them as a group as ‘CESe’ henceforth.

(2) : like brainwashing, mind control, easily expiring parts (that only they make). You know the deal. These people did not take any of those evil options. aww. 

(3) hey, Starbuck canonically had a brain transplant.

(4) Brain damage and brain damage. Probably brain shut down, memories were lost, I forget where I was going with this.

(5) You know, they were captured? And then gotta transport somewhere. I don’t know where. Just they couldn’t be imprisoned where they were. Maybe someone wanted them for something. Probably murder. And I don’t mean punishing them for it. No one found the remains of the rest of the transport.

(6) Finding half a guy, armless, floating in space is fine. And they’re actually alive? That’s surprising. Even if they’re barely alive.

(7) Resulting in a bounty being placed on them. Probably along the lines of: Murder, Trauma, Murder. 

Later Headcanon Versions:

Bonus Trauma Edition: One of his brothers was also on that transport. Said brother didn’t survive. Wound up being a ‘donation’ of parts for T9. Nobody knows that’s why it was compatible.

Alternate Edition: They found a guy floating in space. No one could identify him. He had no arms. Somehow, despite not being in an escape pod, he was alive. They helped the best they could, but couldn’t help with memory issues. (Either they did it out of a desire to help people, the goodness of their heart, because they’d love for someone to help them if they needed it that badly... or they had some experimental (non-Shadowscythe) meditech they wanted to test and no one knew the guy.

Practical Edition: The real reason they didn’t include ‘alternate control options’ is that it was a ship of medical students. “Today, class, you get to examine a body!” (we brought it in today, it was floating amidst wreckage) First step: check for vital signs. “What the heck? It’s alive! Okay students, today we get to use medtech!”

Self Indulgent Edition: (Lore spins as it hurtles through space. It’s him. The Void spat him out, many many years later. If he remembered, what would his reaction be to hunting down the latest equivalent to the 7 Corrupt Elemental Spirits?) is self indulgent because its reader indulgence do they do the same kinds of actions memoryless as they would with their memories?

[kangaracha]

🌟star🌟

Read And The Chasm Grows here.

I’m going to be talking about the very first scene of this fic, the flashback to Wyatt with Willa and his father at the top of the mountain when he was like 5.

I edited this scene about four times and the thing I’m still not entirely happy with is the first 2 paragraphs, to me it feels a bit choppy and a bit like diving onto rocks to read. I think this is mainly because this scene was originally cut and transplanted from the fever dream about halfway through, and this wasn’t supposed to be a starting point at all, so I struggled a bit to lead into it in a different way.

However, I do absolutely love how much of an asshole five year old Willa is, especially in this scene. I’ve always seen her as a very hard character, one that you wouldn’t necessarily love if Zombies wasn’t a Disney movie. I struggle a lot to find moments to let her be soft, because she is an ‘iron woman’, she’s a very driven and motivated character, she leads with absolute authority and she lets her pride and her ego shape her decisions. 

A large part of this scene is the way Willa acts throughout; the way she teases Wyatt at the beginning, how she’s always looking for her father’s approval and attention and trying to be better than Wyatt while they are talking about the stones, even though she already knows she is. It paints a picture of a secret insecurity in Willa about failing, or not being good enough, and I feel like this continues in the way Willa and Wyatt interact for the remainder of the fic, the underlying tension between them and the way she fights him right up until the end. It really helps to explain that I haven’t made her mean just to be mean, she’s just dealing with it in her own way (and maybe that way isn’t the best way to go but like...I feel like that’s in line with the theme of the fic).

Their father then says,  “You’re brother and sister. You should be helping each other, not turning against-” This is direct foreshadowing for Willa’s death later and the unresolved argument that Wyatt has with her before that. It adds just a touch more depth to that eventuality, as you realise that resolving their differences is something the twins have struggled with their whole lives, and that, despite Wyatt wanting to mend that split between them (this desire is mentioned a couple of times later), he never gets to fulfil that wish.

I’ve mentioned the trials in passing in this scene again, a running theme from If Only We Knew. The ‘trials’ are my explanation of the claw-mark markings on their arms, and I’m mentioning them as a lead-in to a possible prequel that I might write that details the trials and Willa becoming Alpha. Other than that, this line is a throwaway and is relevant to nothing.

The top of the mountain is described as having ‘eight stone cairns’ and a ‘pillar of flat stones’ (ala moana, which I may or may not have subconciously stolen this from). I had a lot of fun diving into werewolf culture and history here and making it my own, even though the story didn’t really have room to focus on it specifically - the eight graves here are supposed to be the first eight wolves, I would assume the first eight humans to come into contact with the moonstone and be transformed into werewolves. Throughout the rest of the fic, it’s mentioned that the wolves are buried on the side of the mountain - the reason for this is that they are buried one after another so that you can trace the generations back - so the first generation after those eight wolves are buried right at the top too, and as you get further and further down the mountain, you get to more and more recent graves. There’s no particular reason for this, I just had a lot of time to think about how to bury werewolves.

The pillar of stone is a record of all the wolves that have lived in this pack, and is important to this story as it provides Willa’s primary motivation for this fic (and ultimate demise). This scene was a really nice way to introduce it, as it provided a way for me to explain it all through the characters dialogue and also have this nice family scene at the start instead of jumping straight into the angst. It’s also good to have this here so that later, when Wyatt and Wanda come up here at the end, I could just focus on how tragic it all is rather than trying to explain wolf culture while killing everyone.

“Your stone hasn’t been lain yet, Willa,” he tells her patiently. “It won’t be lain for – for a very long time.” More foreshadowing. There’s quite a few things mentioned in this scene that are things that will never come to pass, just to add weight to later scenes.

“When you are old and you have your own pups to bring to see it.” See above xD I am a cruel, capricious god.

Their father’s lookout, up here at the top of the mountain, is maybe one of my favourite locations out of these two fics. I spent a lot of time while writing this trying to figure out how not to leave dead bodies in the den, and this place exists mostly because I needed somewhere to leave dead Wyatt where Addison wouldn’t stumble across him, back when he was supposed to be the last one alive. In the end, I left three or four wolves alive and finished with his death, but then it was still nice to have the connection between their father bringing them here in the first scene and Wyatt bringing Wanda here in the last scene so it stayed.

Willa’s impatience shines through in the conversation that follows while they sit at this lookout, and Wyatt’s quieter, more thoughtful demeanour. Also their fight for their father’s attention and approval, just one more moment to drive that point home.

Nothing is forever, their father says towards the end of this scene, to which Wyatt replies, The pack is forever, and then begins to doubt himself. This is foreshadowing; the pack is not forever. I could have had older Wyatt reflect on this moment later on, but there wasn’t a place for it and I’m not mad that I left it out - there’s enough connections throughout this scene that feed into the rest of the story that it doesn’t need to be there, and also it’s mentioned later that he doesn’t remember most of this memory, which makes sense for a sixteen year old trying to remember memories up to when he was six. I know I definitely don’t remember much from when I was five. It’s also a bit sadder, I feel, knowing that he had this conversation and other conversations like it with his father in this spot, and they would have been very helpful in the struggle Wyatt has with accepting that the werewolves are over and they’re all going to die, but he doesn’t remember any of his father’s wise words.

“You have a good heart, little wolf.” This is his father’s final line of dialogue in this scene and I was very happy to end it here. This ties back to If Only We Knew - little wolf is a nickname Wyatt’s father used to call him when he was young, and is a nickname Wyatt uses for Wanda now. I also feel like you have a good heart is just a nice way to describe Wyatt in five words.

thanks for letting me ramble about my stuff <3

[rebecccabush]

Sorts of Gardens - Residence Gardening Leisure Activity

Gardening around the residence can be a fun leisure activity. There are many ideas that you can select when it concerns landscape design making use of horticulture as your ideas. Depending on the area that you are attempting to cover and the budget that you're on, you may have the ability to change the landscaping every other week. There additionally numerous benefits to horticulture for both the garden enthusiast and also the garden that is being grown around the house. Anyone can delight in the hobby of gardening, as well as it can be a satisfying experience no matter what sort of yard you choose to have. Different Types of Gardens Vegetable Gardens: Vegetable gardens provide you with a lot of veggies throughout the year, and additionally advertise healthy eating. Depending on the kinds of vegetables expanded, they need to be grown and also gathered at specific times throughout the year. Fruit Gardens: Fruit gardens are similar to veggie yards since you have to grow and also collect the fruits during specific times of the year. Not only that, but fresh produced fruits are healthy and also good to consume. Flower Gardens: Flower yards are rather as well as can add some landscape to your home. You can pick from a broad variety of blossoms as well as only go with a choose few or vary them out depending upon which blossoms you like. Natural Herb Gardens: Herb gardens are great for those people who like to cook using the herbs, as well as who would like to sell them. A lot of individuals utilize natural herbs for other things so this would be a helpful yard to have without needing to buy fresh natural herbs weekly. Mixed Gardens: Blended yards are stunning, and you can grow a great deal of different things in them consisting of, yet not restricted to fruits, vegetables, flowers, natural herbs, hedges, and any kind of others things that you intend to include. 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I have just one policy when producing a yard in a leased property which is not to get pricey plants. So I only ever before get tubes (3 inch pots) or 6 inch pots. This limits me investing a lot of cash on something I can't take when I move. I likewise figure that anything in a tube, will turn into a larger plant gradually. Additionally smaller sized plants overcome their transplant shock and start growing quicker than big plants in pots. A cheap method to create a garden is to take cuttings of the great old made plants such as geraniums, lavender, salvias, daisies as well as hydrangers. These plants strike really quickly, do not require a great deal of care as well as grow truly fast. You will have a wonderful garden within twelve month. Slower plants such as roses, camellias and deciduous trees take numerous years prior to they are ready to planted out in the garden. If you are renting out, you might assume you can't have a vegetable patch. Well that is not true. Nowadays you can grow great deals of vegetables in pots and there is now a big series of different vegetable growing containers. You can utilize old wheel barrows, old cut down storage tanks, old wood boxes and your can even acquire wood dog crates from some veggie growing businesses. The same rules apply, high quality dirt which is enhanced with compost and also animal manure, well drained pipes as well as in full sun. It is heart wrenching when you have to leave several of your unique plants. One means I navigated this issue was to plant some of my much-loved plants in pots. I have an incredible array of pots in my garden, from significant ones to little one. I even make use of some of them to complete the spaces of my garden which is one method I change points around when I really feel the yard is looking tried as well as I am unwell of the same old appearance. It is true that relocating is a discomfort, because I have so many but this aids me to develop promptly a brand-new garden when I move and also makes me really feel a lot more resolved. One more technique is when you learn that you are relocating, is as well run around the yard and take cuttings. It is truly the last thing you wish to be doing while you are in this zone, however you will regret it if you don't. I have two uncommon salvias which endure the shade and also I didn't want to shed them. So, I took cuttings of Salvia miniata which has shiny eco-friendly leaves as well as traffic signal red blossoms. To take cutting, you need to make use of a top quality propagation potting mix, not average potting mix due to the fact that it is not designed to drain for cuttings. So there is a path of this red salvia being left behind in all your homes I have stayed in over the last 10 years. I have actually additionally been recognized to collect plants when I figured out I was relocating. This is what I made with my various other shade loving plant - Salvia forskaohlie. It has beautiful blue flowers with white dots on the throat of the blossom as well as will self seed. This is an outstanding suggestion particularly if you are relocating winter, as taking cuttings is not always possible. Clean some old pots, obtain a high quality potting mix as well as dig away. The only disadvantage of this is when you have actually relocated and have a million others things to do, caring for your plants especially in the height of summertime can be difficult. There is a substantial array of pots from plastic, to terracotta to concrete to select from. You can additionally use old wooden boxes, old oil tins (cleaned up) and the great old a glass of wine barrel. I have a lavender growing in an old oil that a pal found for me. It is going terrific weapons. The only draw back about pots whatever they are is the huge ones are heavy. If you relocate frequently, it may be a good idea to by a trolley. They take the back splitting job out of relocating heavy pots. They are conveniently available now. When you are actually physically moving your plants, it is a great idea to obtain a close friend to aid, due to the fact that lifting pots, especially big ones is truly hefty and also hard work. Last time I moved, I employed a trailer, best point I ever done. My buddies and I packed whatever up as well as moved them done in one hit, rather than several brief trips in my automobile. I watered them well first, then when we got to the brand-new residence placed them right into a dubious setting until I had actually exercised where the locations were and also I was ready to organise the yard. So you can have a nice garden if you are renting out, it simply takes a little planning as well as organisation. Growing plants in pots offers you a great deal of chances that you do not have if you are renting and don't wish to grow into the garden. Growing plants in pots likewise allows you to transform points and keep the garden interesting.

[dominiodei]

Revelations: Dominion

(a transcription of syfy’s official dominion lore)

CHAPTER 3

THE CELEBRATION

FORMER MALLORY LEADERS

RAMONA COLE

October 4, 2028

Something is truly wrong with this place. Our former leader, Robert Fuller, named Sheriff Walter Northcutt as his successor—a questionable decision, to condemn our only lawman in a time of unrest. If only Northcutt would have made it the five years…

The coward Robert Fuller abandoned us on the eve of The Celebration, leaving his son behind as he split town, our confessions in tow, and allowed those…things…into Mallory. For days they fed on us until Sheriff Northcutt used Robert’s son, Wes, as bait. Like an animal. I will never forget watching that poor boy beg his father to end his own life. Wes just wanted the deed to be done, as he knew we would never be safe otherwise. He was always a troublemaker, but murder was never in the boy’s blood. Until then.

Wes confessed to me that he’d dragged Northcutt into the woods, bound and gagged, and left him to die amid those soulless monsters. Yes, it left us leaderless, but revenge can be as sweet as deliverance. I knew that if the truth came out they would kill that poor boy. So I took Wes’ confession along with those of the town and volunteered myself for sacrifice. I ask only that my daughter, Harper, be watched over so that she may never know the horrors we’ve faced.

I’ll admit that The Prophet has delivered protection from the monsters outside. But we are a family of monsters ourselves, are we not? We live out our days under house arrest, and yet we have lofty hopes of prosperity. What happens when the fire goes out? It simply cannot burn forever.

I name Alistair Vaughn as Leader of Mallory as I can think of no better heart in which to put our faith.

Faithfully, Mona Cole

ALISTAIR VAUGHN

October 3, 2033

It’s not every day that someone gets to save the world. Pardon the exaggeration, but it’s the only world I know.

I grew up here in Mallory. They’re good people, most of them, but on the day those things came down from the sky, Mallory stopped becoming our town and became something new. We welcomed a lot of outsiders, but by and large I’d say we’re all right. It’s a difficult thing, living in a vacuum. No one comes in. No one goes out. Everything and everyone stays the same or worse. Lot of big personalities, the kinds that like butting heads. They chase their gossip like flies on shit.

I suppose I wouldn’t have taken this post if it weren’t forced on me, but who’s to say? We don’t know our courage until it’s tested (see Exhibit Fuller)!

I know Mona had her doubts about what we’re doing here. But show me a town who’s got it better and I’ll show you a Prophet who made good on his word. Sure, the guy seemed like a creep, but in this town? Who isn’t. Besides, I’m being asked to go out a hero, which is a hell of a lot better than sticking around.

I’m just anxious to die for the town that gave me everything. Or was my everything… Okay, I’m not spending my final hours cooped up over poetry. I name Nicholas Heyward as Leader of Mallory, one of our trusted transplants from Birmingham. Just don’t mess it up, Nick.

Over & Out, Ali Vaughn

PS [to the beautiful Laurel Phillips, who I’ll miss most of all]: We never did find our time, did we, Philly? Lord knows I tried. You have so much good to lend this town. Just don’t go running off with Wes, eh? He was always jealous of what we had. Or could have had. I suppose now is as good a time as any: I love you, Philly. And Godspeed.

[voidwaren]

it’s 5 am. again.

so, naturally, that means I opened up good ol’ NaNo doc and slapped my fingers against the keys for a while. then I realized I HATED what I just wrote, stared at it a second, and decided to transplant one line into the Part 3/[READ MORE] doc, and now we have another story for whenever I get that stupid bitch published on AO3. the inspiration for the line is obvious, I just can’t find the damn source atm because I’m operating on fumes. you’ll know it when you see it.

I’m not gonna give the whole thing this time (it needs a better beginning), but I’ve been dead to the world for a while on the Grahamscott front, so, if you want a short snippet of another story to come, hit that read more button! (geddit? that’s why it’s going to be titled [READ MORE]. it’s because I’m an asshole who thinks she’s hilarious as FUCK.)

Pieces of the CD fall to the ground around his feet, glittering rainbows in the dirty light of the street lamps, the sharp edges of the single shard left intact pressing a welt into the skin of Nathan’s thumb, blooming red and enticing. Warren has to physically stop himself from trying to take it away before it could draw blood by shoving his fisted hands into the pockets of his jeans, but he can’t look away. Nathan either doesn’t notice Warren’s obvious act of restriction, or he doesn’t care.

“It was a mistake,” Nathan concludes blandly, his eyes on the actions of his hands. The edge presses harder, but the skin doesn’t break. Warren wonders, almost offhandedly, just how familiar Nathan was with the thresholds of his skin against a sharp object, and how far he could take it before he lost that control. He’d think more on it had Nathan’s words not rooted themselves deep, looping across the front of Warren’s mind as he uncovered their true meaning without really trying.

It was a mistake, Nathan had just said, but Warren wasn’t dumb.

“You weren’t a mistake, Nathan,” Warren tries gently. He feels the ghost of an urge, rooted somewhere in the metaphorical space just behind his heart, to ask Nathan what in the actual hell he’d been thinking to even come remotely to that conclusion, but he knows before he’s even given the phantom want any full thought that it would be a question of fire, and Nathan didn’t need more fuel to explode.

So Warren keeps that urge tucked away, and he stays the quiet person he can be right then, the quiet person he had trouble being most days, but sorely wished he could still be in moments where his newfound temper seemed to get the better of him. Thank Rachel, this wasn’t one of those moments.

Nathan meets Warren’s eyes after the silence has given time to stretch too thin, his eyes sharp and squinted, his expression hard. He tilts his head slightly, his lips parting with a silent breath, and something flashes across his face so fast Warren doesn’t have a chance to decipher its existence before it’s replaced again and Nathan says, without any inflection to his tone, “All I’ve ever been is a mistake.”

And all at once Warren wants to tear the whole world apart.

Just for a second—there and gone so fast he can’t do more than smolder painfully in the ashes the scorching want leaves behind in the cavity of his chest—but it’s a want so powerful, so much more than Warren himself knows he can feel, that he feels, in that second, like he could do just that. He could take the fabric of this dimension and tear, rip, split down the seams, until there was nothing left of the world that had made Nathan become the person he was now.

It’s so otherworldly, the feeling, that Warren knows it’s not just his emotions alone birthing the momentary need to render the universe null beneath his fingertips. And it will scare him, later, before it will be pushed away to the corner of his mind that never willingly saw the light, to realize he had wished it was.

“You aren’t a mistake,” Warren reiterates, pulling back to himself with teeth clenched so hard it hurts. Nathan’s expression turns wary, by unconscious awareness of what Warren had become or because of the inability to believe what Warren is telling him, Warren doesn’t know, but his eyes search for the truth in that way they always did, and Warren is nearly pleading when he says, one more time, “You’re not a mistake, Nathan. Not to me.”

And that’s what gets him to break. Nathan’s facade splinters at his eyes, cracking armor falling away like Warren had sucker punched the will right out of him, and, for the first time that night, Nathan looks at Warren like he believes him.

[barefoot-joker]

Yandere!Jeremiah Valeska X Reader One Shot Pt. 3

Hello, guys! Long time no see! Welcome back to Yandere Jeremiah! I will warn you this one shot is a bit longer than the others but fear not it moves the story along! Now as always feedback is appreciated and I will see you guys in Part 4. Yes..Part 4! Stay tuned!

https://barefoot-joker.tumblr.com/post/182328341418/yanderejeremiah-valeska-x-reader-one-shot

https://barefoot-joker.tumblr.com/post/182409053588/yanderejeremiah-valeska-x-reader-oneshot-pt-2

https://barefoot-joker.tumblr.com/post/183226748438/yanderejeremiah-valeska-x-reader-one-shot-pt-4

https://barefoot-joker.tumblr.com/post/183462856853/yanderejeremiah-valeska-x-reader-one-shot-pt-5

https://barefoot-joker.tumblr.com/post/183601483818/yanderejeremiah-valeska-x-reader-oneshot-pt-6

https://barefoot-joker.tumblr.com/post/184215467078/yanderejeremiah-valeska-x-reader-oneshot-pt-7

https://barefoot-joker.tumblr.com/post/184513626468/yanderejeremiah-valeska-x-reader-oneshot-pt-7

https://barefoot-joker.tumblr.com/post/184712916978/yanderejeremiah-valeska-x-reader-oneshot-pt-7

https://barefoot-joker.tumblr.com/post/185001873563/yanderejeremiah-valeska-x-reader-one-shot-pt-7

https://barefoot-joker.tumblr.com/post/186623351048/yanderejeremiah-valeska-x-reader-one-shot

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

Beep.    Beep.       Beep.

            Flutter.

My vision was blurry as I took in a short breath. Pain overrode my chest as I took in air, it causing me to grit my teeth and clench my fists. Oh how I wanted to cry out but my voice would not come as my throat was scratchy. As I lay there with my vision still blurred I could hear mumbling and footsteps, them nearing me. "Y/n is going to love the plan! She'll be jumping up and down with excitement! No she won't! Yes she will! You bind yourself to her and then she'll have to love you forever!"

I lay there confused. I recognized the voice as Jeremiah but why was he talking to himself? I rolled my head to the right and saw my captor holding his hands to his hips, a scowl on his face. As he continued his conversation I watched as his voice went from normal to husky then light, his face expressing so much. His actions scared me, my chest hurting from holding in oxygen. I couldn't hold it in any longer and began to cough, my entire being shaking. In the middle of my coughing fit I felt hands wrap around my shoulders, them being gentle and rough at the same time. As I finished the hands guided me back to the pillows behind my back before one of them removed the hair from in front of my face. Gulping, I looked over at Jeremiah to see his eyebrows morph with concern. "Darling, how are you feeling?" "S-sore." I rasped out due to not using my voice for a while. He nodded and gripped my hand in his, bringing his forehead down to meet our hands. "J-Jeremiah?" "I was worried that you'd never wake up, dearest. After you collapsed in my arms Ecco and I had to care for you. I feared you'd die before any of the entertainment begun." "E-entertainment?"

My eyes widened as my old friend began to chuckle, his body rumbling with his laughter. Bringing his head up I could only stare in horror as a wide grin stretched across his dark red lips, fear creeping into my heart. "Yes! Oh there's still so much to plan!" "What are y-you talking about, J-Jeremiah?" "I had wanted to get everything prepared for when you woke up but you've been slipping in and out of consciousness for several days now and I wanted to be your side when you finally opened those beautiful e/c eyes for good. So now that you have I can have the preparations set into motion!" He let out a giddy giggle that frightened me to the very core. Was Jeremiah that far gone? "Yes. Ecco should be in here shortly to get some measurements. For what I have in mind you'll be the most exquisite woman in all of Gotham! Miss Kean will even be jealous of you!"

He rose and spun in a circle, his arms outstretched as his purple and black coat opened up with him. "Jeremiah, you're scaring me." He stopped when he faced me, his smile gone as he returned to my side. "It's okay, dearest. There's no need to be afraid. I'm here."

I pushed him away to the best of my abilities, his hands grabbing my wrists in a forceful manner. I struggled against him but my weak body could not hold up to him. "I don't want you here! You're not the Jeremiah I knew! I want the old one back, not this crazy lunatic in front of me!"

As soon as those words spewed from my lips the dark greenette was quick to grab my neck, his red and black leather gloves sinking into my flesh. Instantly I grabbed his arms, trying in vain to get him off but all he did was lean closer till we were nose to nose. "Listen to me carefully, Y/n. I'm still me no matter what. That being said you're mine and I don't like being yelled at by what's rightfully mine. Are we clear?"

Seeing black spots I gave him a weak nod to which he let go, my body hacking to take in air as my head lowered. Tears filled my eyes but I kept them in their prison as I didn't want the beast to see any weakness. As I sat there I heard Jeremiah's footsteps fall away and the metal door slam shut, this cueing my tears to fall. What happened to the sweet boy I knew? Had the monster really eaten the rest of his humanity up? I could only sob as I didn't know what else to do. "I'm sorry, Selina. You always told me to be strong but I-I just can't!" I grabbed at my heart monitor pack, wires and tubes tangling together. "I let y-you, B-Bruce, A-Alfred and J-Jim all down! It's my fault your dead!"

I clutched my head in my hands as I sobbed. I had no idea how long I had cried for but as my tears dried up I laid back down exhausted physically and emotionally. What was I going to do? Suddenly the door swung open to reveal Ecco, her blonde hair in two messy buns with a few strands hanging down and makeup smeared onto her face. She strutted in with a green Tupperware container under her arm as she shut the door behind her. "Hiya, puddin! Boss wanted me to measure you for your dress." "Dress?" "Oh, I can't tell you more than that! Now come on, stand up! Stand up!"

I was confused but followed her command, it taking me a few tries. As soon as I got stable by holding onto my heart monitor Ecco pulled out a tape measure and began to put it to my body. Writing down everything she hummed while placing the paper, pencil and tape measure back into the box. "Alrighty. Now let's see here."

Sorting through the box she pulled out a few scraps of material, each a different color and type. Holding up each piece to my skin Ecco either smiled or looked disgusted before placing them back into the box and closing the lid. "That should be all for now, sweet pea. Oh you're going to look drop dead gorgeous in this dress!" "Ecco-" "I can't tell you anything about the party, Boss' orders. But it will be exciting!" She giggled and picked up the container before skipping towards the door. "See you at dinner, hon!"

With that she slammed the door shut and I was alone once more. Letting out a shaky breath I resumed my sitting position on the bed, my thoughts swirling into one big magnificent mess. As I sat thinking my head wandered up to the ceiling and my eyes widened. A security camera sat there recording me, Jeremiah most likely watching on the receiving end. I shivered as it brought on a memory, a memory I should have seen coming.

{Flashback}

I shook as I lay in the hospital bed. I had always hated this place as I was forced to call it my second home. My chest hurt as I heaved in a deep breath, my entire body shaking. Bruce and Alfred were there with me as I had fallen faint in front of them at Wayne Manor. Immediately they took me here and I was checked out, my tests results still being waited on. "You're going to be okay, Y/n. Alfred and I are here." "Bruce, what happens if I'm not alright? What are we going to do if-" "We'll worry about that when the time comes. For now just rest."

He held my fingers and rubbed his thumbs across my knuckles, knowing it was one way to calm me down. Just as I was about to say something Dr. Lee came in, a serious expression written in her features. "Y/n, I have some very bad news."

I gulped and Bruce held my hand tighter while Alfred stood by his master's side. "Because of your heart condition we did some tests and I'm afraid to say that it's too weak to hold up." "W-what?" "What does that mean, Dr. Lee?" Alfred asked. "It means that Y/n does not have long to live. Unless she undergoes a surgery she will die."

At her words I could feel my world freeze. I always knew I had a poor heart but to find out that I was going to die...

I began to cry as I realized what my fate was going to be. Bruce held me close to his chest and all I could do was clutch at his dark knit sweater. I didn't want to die! There was still so much I wanted to do in life! "Is there any way she could survive?" "If she got a transplant, Mr. Wayne, then yes. She would live. Unfortunately she would be put at the bottom of the list as we have several others waiting but if you'd like I can put her down." "Please do." Dr. Lee nodded. "We'd like to keep Y/n overnight just to make sure she doesn't undergo any heart trauma."

Alfred nodded and followed her out, leaving Bruce and I alone. I continued to bawl into his chest, mine hurting every time I took in a breath. Bruce held me close and whispered into my ear sweet words as his hand stroked my hair. "B-Bruce..." "Shhh. I'm here."

We stayed in that position for what felt like an eternity until visiting hours were closed. That night I couldn't sleep due to my running thoughts so I got up and looked out the window. I had always loved people watching and from my tower I watched as hundreds walked by without a care in the world. "You really should be in bed, dearest."

My heart stopped for a split second before I quickly spun around, my eyes widening at seeing Jeremiah standing there with a bouquet of dark red roses. "What are you doing here? I thought I left you." "You did but I had heard what happened and wanted to see how my love was doing. What, can't a man see his loved ones?" I watched him closely as he set the store bought flowers on the nearby nightstand. "You've seen how I am. Now leave." "Tsk. Tsk. How come Bruce got a longer time than me? He doesn't love you like I do." "He's a good friend. Besides he doesn't go around telling me what I can and cannot do. Now get out before I call in a nurse."

He just chuckled and came towards me, his glasses sparkling in the lights of the city. Grabbing my wrist he pulled me close, his lips near mine as he spoke. "You don't have the guts, you and I both know that." I put my hands up to push him away but he gently pulled them around his waist to bring us closer. "Let me go, Jeremiah." "What no nickname?" "Not for you. I just want you to leave me alone. I thought you were smart to take my hints but obviously you have a disconnected wire in your brain!" "No my eyes have simply been opened." His voice dropped into a monotone whisper.

He leaned in and began to kiss my neck, my breath hitching in my throat. I took my hands from his waist and put my hands on his chest, trying to push him away. However he wouldn't stop so I prepared myself to scream but he placed his lips on mine. I struggled against him as I let out a muffled shriek, my hand finally slapping him across the cheek which sent his glasses flying. Jeremiah stumbled back a bit surprised which gave me the chance to run. What I didn't expect was to be thrown onto the bed, an enraged Miah pinning me down. "L-let me g-go!" "I understand you're upset darling, but calm yourself."

I thrashed against him, eventually scratching his face. He let out a growl and what I saw had me frozen. Where I had sliced Jeremiah's face pale (almost white) skin appeared to me so I slowly brought up my hand to see flesh colored makeup behind my nails. "So the truth is revealed. I should have suspected that you would have found out sooner or later." Slowly he sat up and took a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping his face and neck down till there was only pale skin and ruby red lips. Then he reached his fingers into his eyes, flicking his contact lenses away, before turning to me. I was speechless as I shook in fear-those icy light blue eyes staring into my soul.

{End Flashback}

I sunk my shoulders and turned away from the camera as I did not want to be reminded of my "lover". Whatever he had planned I did not want a part of it. I just wanted to be back with my friends and far away as possible from Jeremiah and Ecco. Feeling my chest tighten I placed the pillows flat before lying down, my eyes closing. ERH! 

    ERH! 

          ERH!

Scared I sat up quickly, the room becoming a bright red. Getting up I made my way to the door and tugged on the handle, it opening after a bit. Walking out of the room with my heart monitor and breathing tube pack I looked around and roamed the halls, yelling coming to my attention. Rushing towards the noise I quickly hid behind a wall, quickly taking a peek around the corner. My heart lightened up as my gaze fell upon a familiar dark haired boy. Bruce! "Where is she, Jeremiah?" "Who, my dear Bruce? If you're talking about your little girlfriend she's dead, ooh sorry! Was the cat let out of the bag too soon?" "You know who I mean! Where is Y/n?!" "She's being cared for. Poor girl went through an awful surgery." "What did you do to her? Tell me!" "I did what you failed to do: give her a new heart. Her donor was a bit reluctant at first...who knew kitty cat's had such strong claws." "You son of a bi-" "Ah, ah, ah! Don't use such a language in front of a lady! Come on out, darling~"

I slowly made my way out, Bruce looking relieved to see me. "Y/n." "Bruce." "Yes, yes. We all love reunions. Now if you don't mind Bruce, Y/n and I have things to do and places to be." "I'm not going anywhere with you. I wanted to leave you behind and out of my life!" "I'm afraid I can't do that, dearest. You are mine, you're what keeps me right in the head." "I am not something to be owned! I want you to leave me alone!" A scowl twitched onto the clown's face as he reached into his jacket pocket. 

                          "Fine. Let's do this the hard way, darling."

[bfgplanner]

Lately...

So, I’ve been pretty slack when it comes to keeping up with updating this page. I guess that sometimes life happens really fast, and that’s exactly how I would describe the last couple of months! The purpose of this blog was intended to track my progress with running, something I’m still and will always be passionate about, but, well, I haven’t been running. At all...

...because... (click below to read a whole lot more)

Shortly after we got home from Guatemala, we found out that I was pregnant! This had been a goal of ours for 2019, but we had absolutely no idea it would happen as quickly as it did, and we feel very fortunate for that. 

The week that I found out, I was TERRIFIED to run. In fact, Not only that, but I was worried about moving too much, eating too little, not drinking enough water, letting my heart rate get too high, eating a ‘forbidden’ food, etc etc. I was being totally unrealistic about the damage I could do to what was at that time a tiny cluster of cells hidden safely deep inside my body. 

After a week, though, this constant anxiety got old, and as happens when you suddenly cease being active, I started feeling pretty awful. This was not how I was going to spend 9 months of my life. I started running again, tentatively at first, but then I worked back to my normal pace and distance for about a week. Unfortunately, I had a couple of spotting episodes immediately after runs, and it scared me enough to decide to hold off on running until I’m safely into my second trimester, when everything becomes a bit safer. 

Instead, I’ve been spending my workout time in the gym on less jarring exercises: cycling, using the stair machine, elliptical, etc. And of course, plenty of weight training. I’ve noticed that staying active has definitely helped me cope with the overall crummy feeling that the first trimester brings. I’m very fortunate to not have had traditional morning sickness in the form of vomiting when I wake up. Instead, the surge of hormones has manifested itself in more of an all-day feeling of sea sickness (bleh). To say that I’m ready to feel like myself again is an understatement :)

The last couple of months have been full of difficult conversations involving big lifestyle changes. We are city people through and through. We love the life we’ve built in Hoboken over the past six years, and of course, half of our hearts are just across the Hudson in NYC. It’s safe to say we split our time evenly between the two cities. Initially, we decided that we wanted to stay in Hoboken until it was time for middle school, we just couldn’t picture ourselves leaving. It didn’t help that one of my best friends, also in Hoboken, found out she was pregnant only 3 days before me. We would chat endlessly about the playdates we would have and how we would have the best maternity leave ever together. But then I came back down to earth and started thinking more realistically about what our lives would like like in Hoboken with an infant. 

We would have to upgrade to a two bedroom apartment of course, which meant going through another move (anyone who’s lived in a housing-competitive city knows how much of a hassle this is). There’s no telling how pissed off our new neighbors would be by a crying infant at all hours of the night, which for me was beyond anxiety inducing. Then, at only 7 weeks pregnant (even before my first scan which is insane), I was already researching Hoboken infant care centers and setting up appointments to go tour them because I didn’t want to risk being wait listed. There was some major sticker shock to learn that the average infant care price was $2400/month. Of course, nannies (even shared) are over $3k. 

For weeks, I was waking up in the middle of the night with major anxiety about all of this. It was all do-able, but was it worth it? Were the suburbs really that bad that we were avoiding considering them like the plague? Over the course of a couple weeks, we had an epiphany. We wanted a space to call our own. We wanted an actual house we could paint and decorate. We wanted a yard where we could plant flowers and have cookouts. We didn’t want to hear our neighbors television anymore. We wanted enough space to host family if they wanted to come help us with the baby (Darryl’s parents just retired so we’ll take all the free babysitting we can get!). 

More importantly, after we crunched the numbers with a mortgage broker, we realized we didn’t want to keep throwing away MORE MONEY on renting a one bedroom apartment than it would cost to buy a four bedroom house. 

So the search for the perfect town began. Anyone familiar with New Jersey knows there are hundreds of commuter towns in the NYC suburbs to choose from, it can all seem a bit overwhelming. Our criteria was (what we felt) simple: a quick and easy commute to the city (where I work and many of our friends live), highly rated schools (so weird to think that this was a criteria for us now), a centralized and bustling downtown (with local businesses and not many chains) and plenty of park space. We began where most of our transplanted friends had ended up- in Bergen and Essex counties. We had assumed we would end up somewhere like Glen Ridge, Montclair or Glen Rock. We spent a weekend scoping out these towns and visiting open houses. I can’t say exactly what it was, but they just weren’t doing it for us. We just didn’t feel any connection to these areas, and we both despise the traffic and feel of highway 17 and the Parkway. It’s just so congested up there. Out of the three, Montclair was our favorite, but for the type of house we were looking for, we were unfortunately priced out of the area. We were conflicted because we weren’t willing to consider anything further north than Ridgewood. Our only option was to look south, which was tough because we don’t really have any friends who have moved this direction and haven’t spent any time there. Someone suggested Westfield, so we did some digging and decided to check it out. 

What a change from the congestion in Bergen county! We drove around a bit and checked out the downtown area, which was a real downtown. It was adorable with just one drawback, nearly all of the shops and restaurants were some familiar chain. Ugh. We still popped into a few open houses, but again, there was something missing for us. We decided to see if there were any open houses in any of the surrounding towns because we knew next to nothing about the area. We ended up finding some in the neighboring town of Cranford and, well, this is where it looks like our new chapter in life will begin.

It was literally love at first sight in Cranford. There are the most beautiful parks (the cherry blossoms were in full bloom, so this certainly helped), and we ended up spending the afternoon strolling the charming downtown checking out the local coffee shop, brewery and restaurants. Everyone seems to walk and bike throughout town, there isn’t much driving done, which is exactly our style. There are quite a few city transplants there, mostly our age who are starting families as well. The schools are great, and the homes were in our price range.

Fast forward a couple weeks, and an offer we made on a Cranford home (that we love!) was accepted and we’re that much closer to living in the burbs. 

What a whirlwind! Much, much more to come as we enter this totally new, totally exciting stage of life :)

Side note: While I will greatly miss all the Spanish wine, it looks like our 2 weeks in Spain in July will be much more than our summer holiday, it will be our babymoon! :)

[sometimesalwaysmusic]

DEATHSTICKS

Deathsticks have been called 'controlled chaos', employing 'feedback, crashing drums, roaring power chords and screaming solos' to devastating effect. Personally, I hear elements of Death From Above and Pretty Girls Make Graves - doesn't matter, just listen to it, OK!? Transplanted from Peterborough, they have been destroying eardrums with their live shows and powerful releases, such as 2018's Deathsnacks and In The Motors. We spoke with guitarist Matt Post (MP). Check out their tunes, and a live show, if you'd be so lucky! 

VITALS

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/buysomedeathsticks/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/dethstyx/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Deathsticksband

BandCamp: https://buysomedeathsticks.bandcamp.com/

Latest Release: In The Motors (Single, Sep 2018)

Upcoming Shows: Friday, May 10 - Gleneagle at CMW. Cherry Cola’s, Toronto, ON. Friday, May 17 - Deathsticks, Torpor, Death Ex, and more. Pressed, Ottawa, ON. Sunday, June 9 - SOTO FEST III. Off Peak Green Barn. Ottawa, ON.

SA: How did Deathsticks first start playing music together? MP: Deathsticks formed in late 2015, originally with Evan Moore on drums (now of Toronto band Blankscreen). Laura joined a couple months later and we played our first show with this lineup in Feb 2016. Laura and I grew up in Durham region, in Oshawa and Whitby, but started playing together because of the Peterborough music scene. Laura was in a band that I was a big fan of and I sort of became their roadie. We had a mutual respect for what we’d been working on separately and just got along well.

SA: What bands or musicians would you cite as the biggest influences on your sound? MP: We were definitely influenced by local Ontario bands when we first started out. I had seen some Toronto bands like Soupcans and New Fries, anything that was on like Telephone Explosion, Pleasance Records or Bruised Tongue in Ottawa was stuff I thought was cool and wanted to do something like that. Laura and I saw Holy Fuck together and I tried to rip off some of their vocal effects on the earlier Deathsticks recordings. The first Peterborough show I saw was at a fest Laura organized, noise veterans Nihilist Spasm Band played and also a local artist called Paulabulus. I didn’t really know you could make ambient/drone/noise music like that and saw that there was an audience for that kind of thing in the Peterborough community. More recently my friends bands like WLMRT and the London crowd around Isolation Party, Shoobies, Manager and Disleksick have helped guide me back to making music fun.

SA: Thus far in your career, what has been the band’s biggest success? MP: We’ve been 100% DIY, with no help from booking agents, larger labels, publicists, or producers who would shape our sound. Of course everything is harder this way and takes longer but at least we’re not looking at spending the next decade locked in a record contract or something for art we could just continue doing the way we want to, on our own.

SA: Conversely, what is the biggest challenge you have faced, and how have you dealt with it? MP: This past winter we recorded about an EP’s worth of material and just scrapped it. It was all getting to be too self-serious and un-fun guitar post punk whatever. I’ve gotten over the angrier direction we had in the past and am trying to make music that’s still light-hearted while also still being destructive and cathartic. It’s difficult to look at something you’ve made and decide not to release it, but it’s important for a band to be real with themselves and understand that not everything you make is automatically worth listening to. We’re moving on with different instrumentation and new ideas we’re more excited about, rather than go through the trouble of paying for vinyl or tapes of music we don’t even care about any more.

SA: How do you guys approach the song-writing process? MP: With great difficulty. Usually we get a song either on the first time we play it. or from like weeks of cutting down a longer jam session to its bare bones. As long as the songs end up being like 2 minutes long or less I’m happy, and as long as it’s catchy then Laura’s happy, I think.

SA: I understand you guys are transplants to Ottawa. What are your thoughts on the Ottawa music scene? MP: Ottawa has been kind to us. We just moved to the suburbs and that’s where it’s at. But we’re really grateful to have great venues like House of Targ, Pressed and Black Squirrel Books. Promotional things like Sitting on the Outside, Ottawa Showbox and Side By Side Weekend are showing the larger Canadian and international scene that Ottawa is worth playing and that there’s some great bands no matter what genre you’re into.

SA: What is your favourite show that the band has played, and why? MP: Our first show, but we spend way more time talking about our weirdest shows ever. We have a running list of strangest experiences and when you play hundreds of times across Canada in a lot of unconventional venues like ice cream parlors, people’s living rooms, or Chinese food restaurants (don’t worry none of those are the weirdest ones, those ones were all good) it’s more fun than just playing the same kind of bar all the time. If you put us on a bill literally anywhere we will play it and have a great time.

SA: Thus far in the band’s repertoire, what is your favourite track, and why? MP: I like whatever the newest song happens to be. Once I’ve played it a few dozen times I can get tired of it though. Some of the songs haven’t left the live set in the whole 3 years so far. People still respond to them, so they work. “Buzzkill” is definitely a fan favourite and it’s been the opening song for a couple years. I like playing “Fridge Nachos” I guess.

SA: Are Deathsticks cigarettes!? I feel like they’re cigarettes?!?! Are you guys fans/haters of NO FRILLS grocery stores? I can’t tell from the album art. MP: Deathsticks refers to Star Wars Episode 2: Attack of the Clones. In high school no one wanted to be in a band with me which is for the best but at the time I thought it would be funny to call a band Deathsticks because that band would be saying “you don’t want to buy this, you want to go home and rethink your life.” It still is funny.  

SA: What comes next for you guys in 2019? Good luck this coming year! MP: We’re going to tour the USA for the first time. We started a label called Not My Car so we’ve been working on releases for that. Our EP Deathsnacks just came out on 7-inch through the label, and we’re recording some other bands we like in our home studio. Not My Car is DIY label where I do all of the production and recording in-house. Most immediately we’re doing a lathe cut split with Disleksick aka London’s most dangerous band.

[televinita]

Books Read in 2018: The Why

Third year in a row* of answering the self-imposed question: why did you read this particular book?

(*Although 2017′s is presently flagged by the garbage bot and under appeal -- WHY DO U HATE MY BOOK COVER COLLAGES, MR. ALGORITHM)

I am beginning to deeply regret the extra work involved to split them by category, so next year is probably just gonna be a numbered chronological list after the Quilt of Many Covers, but for now they are still divided into adult fiction, YA, middle grade/children’s books, and nonfiction

FICTION

True Valor - Dee Henderson. 2002. Read because: I went hunting for a military romance in which to cast Dalton and Jaz [The Brave]. This one at least guaranteed me Dalton (and included rescuing a female soldier lost/hurt in combat, so).

These Healing Hills - Ann H. Gabhart. 2017. Had this one in my back pocket for a while as a quality-sounding stock romance (nurse/soldier) waiting for players. When my need for a Barbie/Julia [Under the Dome] story reached a new high, I deemed it a match.

Shane - Jack Schaefer. 1949. This is the book Fourmile is based on, so I thought I could get a two-for-one casting thrill out of it.

The Lake House - Kate Morton. 2015. A gorgeous historic mansion hidden within an abandoned estate. A mystery from the past to be solved in the present. What are "things I am here for always."

Crimson Peak (movie novelization) - Nancy Holder. 2015. I LOVED the movie, and the only thing I love more than amazing movies is when I can have them translated into and enriched by prose.

Chasing Sunsets - Karen Kingsbury. 2015. Brush of Wings - Karen Kingsbury. 2016. I was hunting, desperately, for Ben/Ryan-shaped books [Off the Map], and "Brush of Wings" checked all the boxes (young woman who needs a heart transplant volunteers in a third world country, love interest has to find a way to rush her home when the situation turns dire). I only read C.S. first because I didn't want to miss where the romance started.

Rancher Under Fire - Vickie Donoghue. 2014. I was looking for a different book when I casually stumbled upon this title, and listen. I am not gonna turn down a ready-made Barbie/Julia AU* with bonus "single father" angle. (*cowboy/journalist)

Heart Like Mine - Maggie McGinnis. 2016. "Ben/Ryan, Sexy Hookup AU Version please."

The Mountain Between Us - Charles Martin. 2010. The request list for the movie was too long, so I decided to see if it was based on a book. Upon reading the back cover and finding out one character was a surgeon, I immediately forgot the movie cast as my brain exploded with Shondaland options.

When Crickets Cry - Charles Martin. 2006. "Doctor whose wife died young of a lifelong heart condition" sounded like the best book-shaped Ben/Ryan approximation yet, with bonus "watching out for a little girl who is sick in the same way" cuteness as well.

The Woman in Cabin 10 - Ruth Ware. 2016. A woman at work recommended it to me, and I was like, "a well received general thriller? Sure!"

Listen to Me - Hannah Pittard. 2016. Put "road trip" into the library catalog --> picked 70% because "Gothic thriller" made me think of "The Strangers," and 30% because I was reliving the glory days of Derek And Addison and this marriage sounded similar.

The Lying Game - Ruth Ware. 2017. I enjoyed the other book of hers I read so my friend brought in the next one she had.

Hatter Fox - Marilyn Harris. 1973. Read in high school and forgotten until I reread the Goodreads summary, and "doctor drawn to help 17-year-old" set off my radar. Shippy or merely protective/caretaking, my radar reacts the same.

Vanished - Mary McGary Morris. 1988. The trailer for unreleased Martin Henderson film "Hellbent" whipped me into a frenzy so I did my best to find book-shaped approximations of it. (spoiler alert: this failed miserably, but I grudge-matched it out)

Thunder and Rain - Charles Martin. 2012. Former Texas Ranger who is a single dad. Rescuing & protecting a scared/abused woman and child. At his ranch with cows and horses. By an author who has proven his salt in the hurt/comfort and restrained-romance departments.

Before the Fall - Nick Hawley. 2016. Mostly I came for the dynamic between the young orphan and the passenger who saved him, but I also like witnessing the general aftermath of plane crash survivors.

The Perfect Nanny - Leila Slimani. 2018. My work friend loaned it to me with the statement, "This has such good reviews but I don't know if I 'got' it -- I am really curious to know what you think of it!"

The Girl Before - J.P. Delaney. 2017. She loaned me this one too, with a more glowing recommendation.

Everything You Want Me To Be - Mindy Mejia. 2017. Aaaand one last rec from my seasonal work friend before our projects took us in separate directions.

The Dog Year - Ann Wertz Garvin. 2014. Dog on the cover + synopsis was basically a list of tropes I love: a woman (a doctor to boot!) grieving loss of husband and unborn baby; dogs; a new love interest who is one of my favorite professions to pair with doctor (cop)...

Losing Gemma - Katy Gardner. 2002. "So basically this is the victim backstory to a Criminal Minds: Beyond Borders plot? Dude, sign me UP; I can so see this friendship!"

Uncharted - Tracey Garvis-Graves. 2013. The companion novella to a book I loved.

The English Boys - Julia Thomas. 2016. Mom checked it out of the library, "guy in piney unrequited love with his best friend's fiancee" intrigued me enough to open it, and by 3-5 pages in I was hooked.

The Broken Girls - Simone St. James. 2018. Abandoned boarding-school ruins, a murder mystery from the past being solved in the present day, possibly tied to a second murder from the past?? Yeah, give it.

Heart-Shaped Hack - Tracey Garvis-Graves. 2015. White-Hot Hack - Tracey Garvis-Graves. 2016. Proven quality romance writer's latest books feature a professional super-skilled hacker? Sounds right up my Scorpion-obsessed alley. First book was plenty good enough to launch me into Part II.

Shine Shine Shine - Lydia Netzer. 2012. In my continuing quest to find books in which to cast Walter/Paige, I searched the phrase "her genius husband" and this one's summary matched my desires well.

Learning to Stay - Erin Celello. 2013. Ever eager to expand my hurt/comfort scenario stockpile, I went looking for something where a husband suffers a TBI/brain damage that mostly affects their personality. The bonus dog content sold it.

The Fate of Mercy Alban - Wendy Webb. 2013. Came up on my Goodreads timeline. I read as far as "spine-tingling mystery about family secrets set in a big, old haunted house on Lake Superior" and immediately requested it from the library.

Rated PG - Virginia Euwer Wolff. 1981. I was rereading her Make Lemonade trilogy when I saw a quote in her author bio that said, "I did write an adult novel. Thank goodness it went out of print." Curious, I looked it up, and between its age and the fact that it sounded more like YA than a proper adult novel, I was immediately more intrigued by it than her boring-sounding middle grade books.

Someone Else's Love Story - Joshilyn Jackson. 2013. "Young single mom with genius son meeting a possibly-autistic scientist who protects them during a gas station holdup/hostage situation and later bonds with her son" was the exact literary approximation of a Scorpion AU I wanted in my brain. By the time I realized that was not the endgame ship, I had already flipped through it and fallen in love w/ William and his romantic memories of his wife instead.

Driftwood Tides - Gina Holmes. 2014. Cool title + I love the "young adult adoptee bonds with the spouse of their late birth mother" trope.

The Haunting - Alan Titchmarsh. 2011. Title caught my eye at the library near Halloween; I dug the "dual timelines" setup with a mystery from the past to be solved in the present, and hoped for ghosts.

The Lost Hours - Karen White. 2009. I searched "scrapbook" in the library catalog.  A family member's formerly buried old scrapbook, an old house, and unearthing family history/secrets? GIVE IT TO ME.gif.

The Etruscan Smile - Velda Johnston. 1977. Slim (quick read), attractive cover painting, an exotic Italian countryside setting in a bygone era, and a young woman investigating the mystery of her sister's disappearance all appealed to me.

Stay Away, Joe - Dan Cushman. 1953. All I could tell from the book jacket was that it was somehow Western/ranch-themed, possibly full of wacky hijinx and had once been deemed appropriate for a high school library. I just wanted to know what the heck it was about!

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

YOUNG ADULT

(I’m kind of guessing at the line of demarcation between teen and middle grade audiences for some of these, especially the older ones -- another reason that I should give up on categories in the future -- but let’s just go with it)

These Shallow Graves - Jennifer Donnelly. 2015. Seemed like a YA version of What the Dead Leave Behind (which itself I was using as a Crimson Peak AU), from an author whose work has always impressed me.

Snow Bound - Harry Fox Mazer. 1973. Always here for survival stories! Also, this is a good author.

The House - Christina Lauren. 2015. I LOVE evil/haunted mansion stories.

The Masked Truth - Kelley Armstrong. 2015. It looked like Criminal Minds in a YA novel.

Things I'm Seeing Without You - Peter Bognanni. 2017. Went googling for stories that sounded like contemporary variations on Miles & Charlie Matheson [Revolution]. "Teen shows up at estranged father's door" fit the bill.

Even When You Lie to Me - Jessica Alcott. 2015. I always turn out for student/teacher stories, given enough suggestion of it being mostly an emotional connection rather than an illicit hookup.

Too Shattered for Mending - Peter Brown Hoffmeister. 2017. I also dig stories where teenagers have to take care of/fend for themselves in the absence of a parent/guardian.

The Devil You Know - Trish Doller. 2015. I enjoyed a previous book of hers, and I always like road trips and teen thrillers.

The Raft - S.A. Bodeen. Terror at Bottle Creek underwhelmed, so I thought I'd try a YA/female protagonist option for a survival thriller, not least because the girl on the cover reminded me of Under the Dome's Melanie.

Ghost at Kimball Hill - Marie Blizard. 1956. Picked up randomly at an estate sale; the vintage cover and incredibly charming first 2 pages won my heart.

A New Penny - Biana Bradbury. 1971. The rare idea of a teen shotgun marriage in this era -- when it would still be expected, but also more likely to fall apart and end in a young divorce or separation -- fascinated me; I was curious to see how such an adult situation would play out.

Marie Antoinette, Serial Killer - Katie Alender. 2013. I mean...it is really all right there in the title and/or the awesful puns all over the cover. ("Let them eat cake...AND DIE!") Pure unadulterated crack, combining my two fave specialty genres of history and horror? Yes ma'am.

Me And My Mona Lisa Smile - Sheila Hayes. 1981. I was looking up this author of a Little Golden Book to see what else she had, found one that suggested a student/teacher romance, and bolted for it.

To Take a Dare - Crescent Dragonwagon/Paul Zindel. 1982. 50% due to the first author's cracktastic name and my full expectations of it being melodramatic, 50% because I was still on my "Hellbent" high and looking for similar teen runaway stories.

To All My Fans, With Love, From Sylvie - Ellen Conford. 1982. The last one from my attempt-at-a-Hellbent-esque-storyline set -- girl hitchhiking cross-country is picked up by a middle aged man who may or may not have pure intentions, by an established quality author.

Be Good Be Real Be Crazy - Chelsey Philpot. Bright cover called out to me; I was in the mood for a fun road trip novel for spring/early summer.

This is the Story of You - Beth Kephart. Kephart's name always gives me pause due to her fuzzy writing style, but I loved Nothing But Ghosts, so I could not resist the promise of surviving a super-storm disaster.

A Little in Love - Susan Fletcher. "Eponine's story from Les Mis" on a YA novel = immediately awesome; I LOVE HER??? Also it's just my fave musical, generally.

Adrift - Paul Griffin. 2015. I've been really digging survival stories this year, and while stories about survival at sea aren't typically my fave, they keep popping up in my path so I keep poppin' em like candy.

Life in Outer Space - Melissa Keil. 2013. After delighting my brain with concept sketches for a high school AU, I set out to find the equivalent of Scorpion's team dynamics/main relationship in a YA novel, and by god I found it.

Everything Must Go - Fanny Fran Davis. 2017. The brightly colored cover drew me in, and the format of being like a scrapbook of personal documents/paper ephemera lit up the scrap-collecting center of my brain.

Going Geek - Charlotte Huang. 2016.

originally I thought it might be like Life in Outer Space, but once I realized the title geeks were all girls I shrugged and went, "Eh, still a solid contemporary YA novel at a cool setting (boarding school)."

Like Mandarin - Kirsten Hubbard. 2011.

By the author of my beloved Wanderlove, I was drawn in by the title, intriguing cover photo, rural Wyoming setting and the concept of a high school freshman girl latching onto/idolizing a cool senior girl.

Sixteen: Short Stories By Outstanding Writers for Young Adults. ed. Donald R. Gallo. 1984. Tripped over it at the library, and immediately wanted to consume a set of 80s teen book content from a pack of authors I know and love.

A & L Do Summer - Jan Blazanin. 2011. In the summer, sometimes you just want to vicariously relive the feeling of being a largely-responsibility-free teen in a small-town location.

The Assassin Game - Kirsty McKay. 2015. Looked like the (Welsh!) boarding school version of Harper's Island. (spoiler alert: it is rather less stabby than that, but still fun)

We Are Still Tornadoes - Michael Kun/Susan Mullen. 2016. "College freshmen? Writing letters to each other? Sure, looks solid."

Nothing - Annie Barrows. 2017. It looked relatable: like the kind of book that would happen if I tried to turn my high school journals into a book. (spoiler alert: dumber)

The Memory Book - Laura Avery. 2016. Contemporary YA about a girl with a(n unusual) disease, but mostly, the title and promise of it being a collection of entries in different formats.

Kindess for Weakness - Shawn Goodman. 2013. LITERALLY AU RYAN ATWOOD.

Make Lemonade - Virginia Euwer Wolff. 1993. True Believer - Virginia Euwer Wolff. 2001. This Full House - Virginia Euwer Wolff. 2008. I reread the first two so I could give them proper reviews on Goodreads, and then realized I hadn't read the last one at all.

Blue Voyage - Diana Renn. 2015. A hefty teen mystery in a unique exotic location (Turkey) -- with an antiquities smuggling ring! - called out to me.

Girl Online - Zoe Sugg. 2014. I was really in the mood to read something on the younger end of YA, something cute and fun, when I saw this at the library.

Wilderness Peril - Thomas J. Dygard. 1985. Reread of a book I rated 4 stars in high school but couldn't remember, which happened to be lying next to me on a morning where I didn't wanna get out of bed yet.

Survive the Night - Danielle Vega. 2015. The cover had a GLITTERY SKULL. Give me that delightfully packaged horror story for the Halloween season!

The Hired Girl - Laura Amy Schlitz. 2015. I've been digging into my journals and old family photo albums lately, really fascinated by personal historical documents (also recently obsessed over The Scrapbook of Frankie Pratt), and when I saw a diary format book set in 1911 -- a housemaid's diary, no less; that must be interesting as far as recording grand house details -- it spoke to me.

Fans of the Impossible Life - Kate Scelsa. 2015. The colored-pencil-sketch cover gave me Rainbow Rowell vibes.

All The Truth That's In Me - Julie Berry. 2013. Someone who favorably reviewed The Hired Girl also recommended this one; the cover caught my eye, and it sounded like a thriller.

Girl In A Bad Place - Kaitlin Ward. 2017. I heart YA thrillers featuring girls.

Facing It - Julian F. Thompson. 1983. I was in desperate need of a book one night and my only option was to buy one off the library sale cart, so I snagged the one that looked like some entertaining 80s melodrama with a fun (summer camp) setting. (Spoiler alert: fun and entertaining it was not.)

A Good Idea - Cristina Moracho. 2017. "Rural literary noir," promised the cover blurb, and as I just mentioned: I heart YA thrillers.

Something Happened - Greg Logsted. 2008. Short/easy read + I was hoping for either a misinterpreted Genuinely Caring Teacher, or scenarios to use in an appropriate age difference context.

In Real Life - Jessica Love. 2016. My shipper radar pretty much looked at the summary and went "THE AU CHRISTIAN/GABBY SETUP OF MY DREAMS."

The Black Spaniel Mystery - Betty Cavanna. 1945.

Adorable cover (and dogs!) from an established quality author.

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

CHILDREN’S / MIDDLE GRADE

The Cloud Chamber - Joyce Maynard. 2005. The cover made me think of Under the Dome, and the MC immediately reminded me of Joe McAlister.

Terror at Bottle Creek - Watt Key. 2016. After rereading Fourmile, I got a hankering for more books I might be able to cast with the kids from Under the Dome, and figured more Watt Key + a thrilling survival adventure was the ticket for that.

Swampfire - Patricia Cecil Haas. 1973. One of approximately 100 unread vintage horse books I own at any given time; finally in mood because it was short and sweet.

Baby-sitting Is A Dangerous Job - Willo Davis Roberts. 1985. Reread a childhood favorite in order to give it a proper review on Goodreads.

In The Stone Circle - Elizabeth Cody Kimmel. 1998. Same as above.

Wild Spirits - Rosa Jordan. 2010. Clearly the "Kat & Tommy take Justin under their wing" Power Rangers AU of which I have always dreamed, in my very favorite version of it: the one where Kat surrounds herself with animals.

Claudia - Barbara Wallace. 1969. Picked up cheap at a book sale, standard cute vintage Scholastic about a girl and her school life. Comfort food.

Reasons to be Happy - Katrina Kittle. 2011. The cover and the 5 reasons excerpted in the summary were so cute that I wanted to know what more of the reasons were.

Dark Horse Barnaby - Marjorie Reynolds. 1967. Needed a quick read and I'll p. much read any vintage horse book.

Runaway - Dandi Daley Mackall. 2008. Start of a companion series to my beloved Winnie the Horse Gentler, featuring some favorite themes: foster care + animal rescue.

Wolf Wilder - Katherine Rundell. 2015. Pretty cover, girl protagonist, historical Russian setting, wolves. All good things!

Backwater - Joan Bauer. 1999. Sounded like a beautifully tranquil setting.

The Dingle Ridge Fox and Other Stories - Sam Savitt. 1978. Animal stories + author love = automatic win.

If Wishes Were Horses - Jean Slaughter Doty. 1984. Overdue reread of a childhood favorite because I needed some short books to finish the reading challenge.

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

NONFICTION

Junk: Digging Through America's Love Affair with Stuff - Alison Stewart. 2016. I mean, I am definitely an American who has a love affair with stuff.

Keeping Watch: 30 Sheep, 24 Rabbits, 2 Llamas, 1 Alpaca, and a Shepherdess with a Day Job - Kathryn Sletto. 2010.

As soon as I saw my favorite fluffy creature on the cover, I felt an immediate need to transport myself into this (dream) hobby farm setting.

(Side note: this is probably the lowest amount of nonfiction I have read in 1 year for a decade, but I was just so busy hunting down specific types of stories that I could not get distracted by random learning.)

[fleckcmscott]

Watch What Happens - Chapter 22

Chapter links: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21

Summary: Arthur, an aspiring comedian, has struggled to find normalcy and compassion his entire life. Y/N, a hard-working paralegal and transplant to Gotham, has just been put on a case for the Wayne Foundation. When they meet, unexpected sparks fly.

Chapter warning: Angst, Swearing

Words: 3,372

A/N: Again, special thanks to @ithinkimawriter​ for beta-reading this chapter and her encouragement! All the love goes to her!

It was hard for Arthur to fathom that he was backstage at his idol's show. Being there in the dressing room, sitting in front of the vanity mirror with all its lights, was incredible. If he hadn't been able to feel the bristles of the brush when he put foundation on, the cool of the water as he drank it out of the fancy glass they'd provided, or perceive the way the warm smoke from his cigarette filled his lungs with every drag, he would have been sure this was all make-believe.

The nearby table had a set of bowls with various snacks. He wasn't hungry, but he tried them anyway, wanting to keep himself busy. The round, beige nuts, a variety had hadn't eaten before, had a buttery flavor he liked - he'd have to ask Y/N what kind they were when she got there. And there were individually wrapped pieces of chocolate with a gooey center - he stuck a few of those in his pocket for later. There was also a gelatin pyramid with fruit and marshmallows suspended in it; he stayed away from that completely.

Bouncing up and down on his feet, he hung onto the open front of his suit jacket, pulling at the soft, red fabric. He cocked his head and looked in the mirror. His hair was slicked back more neatly than at the open-mic night. The skin of his face was a bit smoother, the lines in it softened by make-up and the gentle lighting of the room. He'd done a good job with his appearance, he thought as he fixed the collar of his white shirt. Now he just had to get through his material.

He sat in the chair before the vanity and started paging through his notebook, chuckling to himself. It had been impossible to memorize everything he'd written the past few days, though he knew one or two jokes by heart. He sometimes had difficulty with retention, anyway. Reading his set would be sufficient if his delivery was correct. If he could get the words out, it would work.

There was a knock at the door, then it suddenly opened. More emotion than expected filled Arthur when he turned to see Murray Franklin, the man he'd fantasized of being loved and accepted by ever since he was a little boy. His chest tightened, and he didn't try to hide the watering of his eyes, rising from his chair excitedly and taking the man's hand. "I feel like I know you," Arthur said. "My mother and I have been watching you forever."

Murray simply smiled, nodded, and delivered instructions: nothing too edgy, no dirty jokes, and no cursing. Arthur would be right on after Dr. Sally. "Didn't you have a guest?"

"She's not here yet. But she will be," Arthur answered, nodding to convince himself Y/N would run into the room any minute.

"Good. Someone will come get you, okay? Good luck," Murray said.

"Thanks, Murray."

Once the the host left and the door closed behind him, Arthur eased into the make-up chair and let out a long breath. He glanced up at the clock on the wall. The airing of the show was going to start in ten minutes. She'll be here. She wouldn't miss this. She wouldn't do that to you. He turned to the news playing on television. All he could do was wait and hope she'd show up soon.

~~~~~

Getting into the building had been straightforward. The doorman had asked for Y/N's name, she'd said it was "Melissa Treble," and, after finding her on the guest list, he'd let her through the backstage entrance. He hadn't even asked for an ID. It left her wondering if they were always lax, or her still being dressed in her office clothes had helped. Despite the ease of entry, her heart was hammering in her chest. She held her handbag to her as if some invisible force might rip it away. Straightening the visitor badge clipped to her blouse, she tried to walk as nonchalantly as possible, searching for a map of the building.

When she found the elevators, she read the directory hanging between them carefully. NCB news studios were on the fourth floor, and the offices for it were on the fifth. She wasn't going to try to run into the studio while they were in the middle of a broadcast and get arrested for trespassing. That wouldn't do. She decided to look for the stairwell and walk to the offices' floor. The stairs would be less crowded, she assumed, making it unlikely she'd be seen.

As she climbed, her steps growing slower with every floor, she took off her heels. The concrete was cold on her nylon-stockinged toes. But the discomfort kept her focused on the task at hand instead of allowing her to fixate on being nervous. The anxiousness she felt wasn't only for herself, but also for Arthur. She knew what she was doing was a desperate, last ditch attempt at making a difference. That even if she succeeded in getting her information to someone, it didn't mean anything would be done with it.

But Arthur was putting himself out there, against her advice, on the show of the asshole who'd made fun of his disability. Though she hadn't seen him have an attack since last week, she hoped he wouldn't start laughing uncontrollably. And that his new stand-up wasn't only filled with cute jokes, which would invite unkind snickers. She simply wanted him to succeed. Perhaps that would help him shed the insecurity she knew he still carried, and he'd be free to display the grace she'd seen glimpses of when he dared to trust himself. Maybe he'd finally realize how terrific he was.

She rested against the railing when she reached the fifth floor, then opened the metal door leading out of the stairwell. Sticking her head into the hallway, she looked each way, relief filling her when she saw the emptiness of the perpendicular corridors. She snuck out and held her breath as she shut the door behind her. So far so good.

It was impossible for her to know which way to turn - it was a fifty/fifty chance either way - so she picked the way with the fewest illuminated office lights. Keeping her shoes in her hand, she walked quietly along the wall, reaching into her purse and grabbing the envelope with "NCB News" typed on the front. She needed to find a door labeled "reports" or "tips" or something, anything that sounded vaguely like they'd look at her notes instead of throwing them away.

"What do you mean you didn't receive the finance report? I faxed it over this afternoon," a man's voice said, coming from one of the nearby offices. Y/N slunk back, creeping into the door of an open, presently unoccupied office behind her. The sound of papers being shuffled echoed against the linoleum floor. She closed her eyes, trying hear his movements over the pounding pulse in her ears. "Hold on, hold on. I'll bring it down to you," the man continued.

At the sound of his chair scraping against the floor, she moved to crouch behind a desk. She bit her knuckle to stop a chuckle at the ridiculousness of a grown woman playing hide-and-seek in an office building. The man walked by, grumbling to himself the whole time. When she heard the distant ding of the elevator, she tip-toed to the door and looked into the hallway.

Y/N considered the best option. The man's office door was open. He had mentioned reports. This was as good a chance as any. She darted across the corridor, dropped the envelope on his desk, and scurried back towards the exit. Heading back to the stairwell, she broke into silent sprint as she got closer. She tried to stop before slamming into the door. But her slippery nylons caused her to slide and bang into it as it opened. Ignoring the possibility that she'd just given herself away, she started booking it down to the second floor so she could see Arthur.

The show was already being aired as she walked to his dressing room, trying to catch her breath. Monitors in the hallway were playing Dr. Sally's latest advice and Franklin's stupid quip about how he would try her tips with his next wife. When she reached the door labeled "Arthur Fleck," she didn't knock before opening it.

"Y/N..." Arthur sprang up from his chair and went to her, taking her hand in his. "I was afraid you wouldn't make it."

Smiling, she leaned back against the door and exhaled sharply. "I'm sorry," she said, giggling, trying to expel the stress in her body. "There were a lot of stairs. But, thanks to you, I did it." She laughed lightly, and started rummaging in her purse. "It's out of my hands now. Here," she said, pulling out a black-eyed Susan. She stuck it in his jacket pocket and gave it a light pat. Then she took a few seconds to look him over, appreciating how his suit accentuated the lankiness of his physique. "You look great. Are you nervous?"

The corner of his mouth crooked uncertainly as he angled his head to look down at the flower. "A little. But you're here." He gave a small shrug. "Maybe everything will be okay."

She only had a few moments to tighten his red and gold tie before a producer came to get him. The peck she gave Arthur was quicker than she would have liked, but he was already half out the door. With a grasp of his hand, she was able to stop him for a split second. "Be yourself and don't let them mock you."

~~~~~

Arthur closed his eyes as he waited behind the curtain to go on stage, a hint of ire joining the strains of anxious excitement in his frame. They were playing that terrible Pogo's tape again, and Murray was telling Dr. Sally he thought Arthur had problems. He needed to focus in order to do the entrance he'd practiced.

He stretched an arm in front of him, then circled his closed fists, one over the other, until an open hand was held over his head as he breathed out. Then he extended his arms, one in front of him and one back, as far as he could, before bringing his hand back to smooth down his chest and stomach. Arthur could sense the producer next to him staring his way as he performed his strange ballet, then stepping back from him. But Arthur didn't care. The movements would soothe and, he hoped, center him enough so he could get out onto that stage and say what wanted.

As the multi-color curtain was opened for him, he was struck by how blinding and hot the stage lights were. And the spotlight was a hell of a lot brighter than the one at Pogo's. Still, he stepped out with polish, gave the audience a confident nod and wave, and went to Murray's desk. After firmly shaking Murray's hand, he approached Dr. Sally. Compelling himself to be brave, he took her offered hand, kissed her cheek sweetly, and whispered a soft, "Thanks." She looked a bit confused, but he thought he detected amusement, too. Then he wiped off the yellow chair next to Murray's desk and sat down, adjusting himself and crossing his legs, his hands folded neatly in his lap.

His breath caught as he looked up into the audience. This was it. This was real. This was the culmination of a dream. There were hundreds of people sitting there, cheering for and seeing him. And there were even more at home watching him on television. His lips parted as his gaze roved over the crowd. He'd barely heard Murray speaking when his question broke through the haze he was in, "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," Arthur said quietly, nodding. "This is exactly how I imagined it."

"Well, that makes once of us," Murray quipped.

That and the audience's laughter brought Arthur back. He forced himself to smile and remember he wasn't there only as a guest. But also as a prop.

"So," Murray started. "I know you're a comedian. You live here in Gotham. Backstage you said you grew up watching this show with your mother?"

Turning to him, Arthur nodded, loosening his shoulders, trying to be self-assured. "That's right, Murray."

Murray gestured towards the camera almost directly in front of them. "Is she watching tonight? Do you want to say hi?"

Arthur knew greeting his mother would be the usual thing to do. But, apart from brief asides, he hadn't been able to think about Penny without angrily tearing up. He clenched his jaw and waved the suggestion away. "No."

After a pause, Murray continued. "Well, have you been working on any new material? You wanna tell us a joke?"

The throng in the studio roared, applause filling Arthur's ears. He didn't answer immediately, reveling in their attention. "Yeah?" he asked them, his beam becoming genuine. His throat clenched as he straightened his legs and put his hands on his knee. It was hard to believe, but they actually seemed to want to listen to him. "Okay." Flashing Murray a grin, he pulled his journal from the waistband of the back of his trousers.

Murray started in on Arthur as he soon as he began flipping through the pages. "He's got a book. A book of jokes." As Arthur searched, Murray continued to badger. "Take your time. We've got all night."

Arthur gave Murray side-eye and chuckled to himself as he found what he was looking for. "Okay, okay. Here's one." He swallowed, then took a deep breath. "Knock knock"

Murray pointed at the book. "And you had to look that up?"

At the sound of everyone laughing at him, Arthur’s face became serious. Murray was already making the effort to be mean to him. Arthur looked at Murray's co-host, seated next to Dr. Sally on the couch. His guffaws were the loudest. "I wanna get it right," Arthur said earnestly. "Knock knock."

"Who's there?" Murray answered exaggeratedly.

"It's the police, ma'am. Your son jumped off of Wayne Tower." Arthur started to snicker. "He's dead."

"Oh, no, no, no." Dr. Sally rounded on him as the audience groaned. "No. You cannot joke about that!"

Murray sounded annoyed. "Yeah, that's not funny, Arthur." He tapped his cue cards against his desk, addressing the crowd as he admonished him. "That's not the kind of humor we do on this show."

"Okay. I'm-" Nodding furiously, Arthur continued. "Yeah, I'm sorry. It's just, you know..." He tightened his mouth. "It's been a rough few days, Murray." Sniffling, he tried to smile though the pain welling in him. "My mother having a stroke, finding out I was abused as a kid, trying to meet my father."

Murray pressed his lips together before seemingly deciding to try to save the segment. "It sounds like you had a tough week." Arthur flinched when Murray nudge his arm with his elbow. "Come on, tell us another wisecrack. But a family one, this time." he said, pasting on a showbiz smile.

Arthur rolled his eyes and closed his book. "Why is everyone so upset about my joke?" he asked.

Murray began to scold him. "Because that's too serious to kid about. People who would try that are sick. We should-"

"I've been that person," Arthur said, throwing his forearm down on his leg. "And if it was me dying on the sidewalk, you'd walk right over me." He drew his brows together, turning more fully in his seat. "You think it's funny to play my video, to invite me here to make fun of me, but I can't joke about what I know?"

There was disbelief in Murray's face, as if he couldn't believe Arthur was calling him on his bullshit. "That video got you here. On the biggest TV show in Gotham." The crowd cheered. They seemed to be taking Murray's side.

Fury grew in Arthur as they brushed off his words. "Comedy is subjective, Murray. Isn't that what they say?” Didn't the people of this city know the harm they'd caused him over the years? That tape had tormented him. And they didn’t even realize they were laughing because of his condition. “All of you," he said straight to the audience, "the system that knows so much, decides what's right or wrong. The same way you decide what's funny," he pointed at himself, "or not." Giggling, he indicated Murray.

Murray was looking over Arthur's shoulder as he spoke. "Look, Arthur, if you're not careful, we're going to have to stop this interview."

Arthur felt like he was being ignored, again. They thought what he had to say wasn't worth the air it took to speak it. He tried to take a deep breath, reminding himself Y/N was watching backstage. That he could finally look forward to the weeks ahead because, at last, someone loved him.

But as much as her affection had improved his life, helped him get through every day, it wasn't enough to erase his hurt and anger. And now that he had this platform and was being seen, now that he'd opened his mouth, he couldn't stop talking. His volume rose as he continued. "Have you seen what it's like out there, Mur-ray? Do you ever actually leave the studio? I've been in enough observation rooms to make a few observations."

The wetness in his eyes distracted him for only a moment before he continued. "Nobody’s civil anymore!” he yelled. But then his voice got quiet, cracking on his next words. “Nobody thinks what it's like to be the other guy."

He thought of the possibility of being thrown out of his apartment, and Mr. Wayne socking him in the face when all he wanted to do was talk. "You think men like Thomas Wayne ever think what it's like to be someone like me? To be somebody but themselves? They don't. They just think we'll sit there and take it."

Murray scoffed at him. "There's so much self-pity, Arthur. I'll tell you-"

"And you're awful, Murray."

“Me? I’m awful?” Murray sounded incensed. “Oh, yeah? How am I awful?”

The skin of Arthur's chin trembled as he tried to hold himself together. "I never had a father growing up. I always wished he was you. I loved you. But you're just like the rest of 'em."

Murray folded his arms and leaned on his desk, narrowing his eyes at him. “You don’t know the first thing about me, pal. I invited you on here and all you're doing is insulting me.”

Arthur swallowed and looked up at the ceiling, pressing his lips together. "How about another joke, Mur-ray?"

"I think we've heard enough of your jokes," Murray said sternly.

If he was about to get kicked off, Arthur wanted to end with a zinger. "What's the worst part of having a mental illness?" he started, feeling tears start despite his efforts to hold them back.

Murray nodded towards someone in the back. "Gene, cut to commerci-"

Arthur interrupted, his voice breaking. "People expect you to behave as if you don't."

It got quiet, then. Arthur decided no one knew how to respond to the reality in the joke he'd just told. As the silence from the audience, the other guests, and Murray lingered, he started chuckling. He placed his hand on the arm of the chair and squeezed, wiping at his eyes with the heel of his palm as his body shook and he bent forward with laughter.

After a minute, he heard the click of high-heels approaching. When Y/N knelt in front of him, he met her gaze and let out a breath of relief. "Y/N," he said, swiping at his nose. She'd put her hand on his knee. He reached to cover it with his fingers, holding tight. "You're still here," he whispered.

The corner of her mouth quirked up as she nodded, her eyes rimmed red. She squeezed gently as she addressed him with a shaky voice. "Let's go home."

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[conversationaldothraki]

Okay so before I go into this keep in mind my mother has munchausens by proxy, meaning she wanted the consequences and she knew better Mostly. I don't normally stand up for docs but anyone going into the medical field needs to know that this shit happens.

I found out at 17 reading through old legal documents.

So I'm seriously sick, major heart condition with 3 open heart surgeries, cranial surgery, and eventual double transplant for heart & liver. I was born like this with a very low survival rate, it took a lot to keep me alive and, at 20, it still does. I wasn't supposed to make it past 5.

When I was around 2 the docs insisted again and again that I be fed more, my parents had been split for a while now so I was only under the care of my mum every second week, and when she was told she had to feed me, when asked what she fed me, she talked about flaxseed oil and other things like that. Now don't get me wrong, when handling modern medicine and homeopathy, there is an in-between, but this was absurd. She told the doctors, who testified to this in a court of law, that she didn't want me getting fat. A fucking baby. A fucking baby on deaths doorstep who shouldn't have logically been alive anyway, that she didn't want me getting fat. This was still a few years before her diagnosis and before the courts figured out the extent of her mental health, keep in mind she was already known to be manic depressive and bipolar.

So my then gp, who I've known most of my life, fought on my behalf, because he was, by chance alone, a decent enough person to do that. My dad spent 14 odd years fighting her in court over and over again. She would bang her head on hospital walls and do so much unbelievable shit, and no one spoke up because who would want a fat baby right? Because eating healthy is more important than eating at all, right?

I still struggle with food, it's been four years since I even managed to hit 50kg, I have no appetite and the mere smell of vinegar makes me want to vomit, because she made me drink it. Now, fatphobia isn't what caused her to do all this, but it sure as fuck didn't help. When I started on a steroid at 13 and got teased for 'moonface' - a swelling symptom where you both swell and gain weight Rapidly - it wasn't fatphobia which alone stopped me from eating, but it didn't help. These inbuilt biases in my brain are still something I have to get through, because thinner is better, right? I'm not even 5ft because I didn't eat enough to grow, I was already faint and fatigued with my heart, but I didn't eat for shit. Because putting on weight is always bad, right?

Fatphobia is dangerous to everyone, don't get me wrong, but in children especially. I've read through the stories on this post and they are fucking insane. There has been a lot going on in my life that indangered my health, that still endangers my health, I'm not a big person and I don't suffer the brunt of it, but all the heart surgeries in the world couldn't have helped if one doctor didn't catch the fact that my mum wanted to hurt me. That she didn't want me to get 'fat'. That my tiny little baby ass wasn't being fed because society is so stuck up in this idea that weight is inherently bad.

I will always face the consequences of this. My body hasn't recovered and it won't. If you're going into medicine please be prepared for things like this, please be aware that fatphobia exists for normal kids and their parents, but it also exists in chronic health and even kids who should be getting top tier care, can be subject to fatphobia. It's an issue and it's dangerous.

TLDR:

I've got major chronic health and my mum didn't want me getting fat at 2 years old. Endangered my health beyond belief to a point where I'm still suffering the consequences.

Medical people: look out for kids who are, even marginally, underweight, it can be a sign of much bigger things. Just because it's a 'healthy' diet, doesn't mean its a safe one.

Everyone else?

FEED YOUR FUCKING KIDS

I work at a daycare with infants.

One of our baby girls is fat, in the 99th percentile for her age. She is super cute and sweet. Lately, she has been sick with various breathing issues, so she has been reluctant to take her bottles. Normally, she’ll take 4 ounces of formula at lunch and 8 ounces in the afternoon. Today, I was lucky to get to her take 5 all day.

There was a substitute covering a lunch break in my classroom today. We emphasized to her that we need to keep trying to get the baby to drink her bottle until she finished it. She said, “Why are you guys so worried about taking her bottle?”

My coworker replied, “That’s where all her nutrients are. She needs the nutrients and the water.”

To which the substitute replied, “But she’s so fat. She doesn’t need it.”

Thin privilege is a small, pretty baby getting better childcare because the caretaker doesn’t think she’s too fat to be allowed to eat.