#ninny on the road now

[youdelight-itolerate]

I couldn't find this MST3K clip anywhere, and I NEED it when I'm feeling steady as a goat and flying over trout. And I hope it will show up in searches for the dozens of us, I'm sure, who search for it.

"He is really good!" "Good? He's the BEST!"

[iydiamartinx]

FLAMES OF STARLIGHT

𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝘄𝗼 | 𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌

Pairing: Poly!Azriel x OC x Lucien

I'm still learning Tumblr and I just found out scheduled posts are a thing! I think I'll schedule the chapters for Monday, Wednesday and Friday until everything is caught up to my A03 account? Unless y'all prefer Friday, Saturday and Sunday?

Also I noticed someone blogging who knew me from Wattpad! Hi! I'm glad you found me again! For my readers who remember me from Wattpad, the reason I disappeared was because they removed my account. I lost most of my stories, so for any of you that were a fan of my other works, only this and Morning After Dark. But I am working on slowly rewriting some of my old works.

 ❝ 𝘪 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘪 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 

𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺, 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦. ❞

— 𝐣𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐳

VAL STRODE DOWN the snow and dirt-trodden road with purpose. Despite her aching bones, she kept their pace to a brisk walk. Feyre easily kept in step beside her while Nesta and Elain trailed behind them, clicking their tongues in disgust as they sneered down at their now muddied shoes.

The silence that Val and Feyre walked in was comfortable compared to the complaining Nesta and Elain did behind them. The wolf's pelt was folded safely in the satchel Feyre carried. It was the only reason Nesta and Elain even bothered to tag along, hoping to persuade Feyre into giving them some money. They knew better than to ask Val. She wasn't one to indulge their needless urge for finery. But Feyre, as the youngest, was less steadfast than Val and, as such, sometimes felt the need to concede to their demands. 

Eventually, the grim stone houses of the village came into view. It was market day, and despite not even reaching the small town square yet, she could hear the voices of merchants, vendors, and shoppers. 

The scent of hot food invaded Val's nose, and she had to suppress her groan. Elain, however, had no qualms of letting out a hungered moan. Val's stomach clenched. She longed for a proper meal, but quickly she tamped down that desire. Desire could be a dangerous thing. 

Val turned around the corner only to suddenly halt. Nesta, from behind her, let out a slight noise as she placed a hand on Val's shoulder to steady herself from the sudden stop. Val paid her sister no mind, her eyes on the pale-robed young woman and the matching cluster behind her. 

"May the Immortal Light shine upon thee, sisters," She said. 

Both Elain and Nesta made a noise of displeasure, even Feyre shifted in discomfort, but Val remained silent. She didn't particularly care for the Children of the Blessed, but it didn't mean she liked them either. Their devotion to the fae unnerved her, and their persistence to convert was annoying, but otherwise, they were all harmless preachers. 

 "Have you a moment to spare so that you might hear the Word of the Blessed?" The young woman questioned. She held out her hands in welcome, the bracelet of silver bells on her wrist letting out a tinkling chime. 

"Not at the moment," Val replied neutrally. At the same moment, Nesta sneered with much more hostility, "No, we don't." 

Nesta nudged both Val and Elain to continue walking, and Feyre shifted to follow. 

The acolyte, however, stepped back into their path and a surge of annoyance went through Val at the woman's persistence. 

"It would take but a minute," She tried to persuade. 

"We really don't have the ti—" Val tried to say, but it was already too late. 

Nesta straightened up, glaring down at the acolyte. She cut Val off, "Go spew your fanatic nonsense to some ninny. You'll find no converts here," She snapped, making the woman shrink back. 

Yet, Nesta wasn't done as she pushed down the sleeve of her coat to reveal the iron bracelet she wore. The acolyte gasped in horror. 

Val glanced up to the dreary sky as if somehow she would find help among the grey clouds. All she wanted was a quick trip, in and out of the market, but it seemed even that was too much to ask for. 

"You see this?" Nesta hissed, taking a step forward, to which the woman matched by taking one back, "This is what you should be wearing. Not some silver bells to attract those faerie monsters."

"How dare you wear that vile affront to our immortal friends—" The acolyte started, but Nesta cut her off. 

"Go preach in another town," She spat. Val gently tugged Nesta slightly back, so she wasn't right in the poor woman's face.

"I suggest you find someone else because clearly, we are not interested," Val's tone was soft yet firm.

Just then, two women walked by, on the wealthier class by the looks of it, both shooting the group of acolytes a disgusted glance.

"Faerie-loving whore," One of them spat at the silent young woman.

The other, who looked even wealthier judging from the braided iron necklace she wore, curled her lip in disgust, "Don't you idiots understand what those monsters did to us for all those centuries? What they still do for sport when they can get away with it? You deserve the end you'll meet at faerie hands. Fools and whores, all of you." 

Val just sighed. Like her opinion about the children of the blessed, she remained indifferent about her thoughts of the Fae folk. She'd never met them, nor did she want to. However, if she did, she'd assume they were quite similar to humans. Some would be good, and some would be bad. After all, there had been some who had fought for the humans when the time came.

The young woman just took a breath, her face smoothening back out into a serene expression, "I lived in such ignorance, too, until I heard the Word of the Blessed. I grew up in a village so similar to this—so bleak and grim. But not one month ago, a friend of my cousin went to the border as our offering to Prythian—and she has not been sent back. Now she dwells in riches and comfort as a High Fae's bride, and so might you if you were to take a moment to—"

"She was likely eaten," Nesta, once again, cut off bluntly. 

Val found herself refraining from pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation—yet there was a small part of her that wanted to snort in amusement, but she buried that part of herself deep down. She just wanted to get the pelt to the marketplace and leave. 

Her sister added, "That's why she hasn't returned."

Val watched as the acolyte's face tightened. "Our benevolent masters would never harm us. Prythian is a land of peace and plenty. Should they bless you with their attention, you would be glad to live amongst them." 

Her eyes shifted around them to see that they were garnering a crowd. It seemed that she and Feyre had the same idea as Val looped her arm with Nesta's—ready to forcefully drag her off if needed—while Feyre stepped between them and the woman. 

"You're fighting an uphill battle," Feyre said. 

"A worthy cause." The girl beamed with conviction.

Val sighed, her words grim and tired as she replied, "No, it's not." With that, she gently tugged Nesta along, Feyre and Elain following with their own sighs of relief. 

Val could feel the acolytes' gaze burn into her back, but she refused to turn back. Nesta walked stiffly beside her, her arm still looped with Val's. Val gave Nesta's arm a subtle squeeze in comfort, and her twin glanced over at the gesture, but Val kept her eyes firmly ahead of her. Slowly Nesta relaxed, accepting her sister's comforting touch. 

Once at the square, Val removed her arm from Nesta's, and Feyre once again moved to Val's side. 

"We'll meet you here in an hour," Feyre said to the other two, and before they could say anything, she and Val slipped into the crowd. 

It took ten minutes for Val and Feyre to decide who they should approach. Their eyes scanned the different people that milled around until a large mountainous woman caught Val's eye. She sat on the ledge of the fountain, keeping to herself. It wasn't her size that attracted Val's attention but the numerous scars and weapons that littered her body. 

Feyre's eyes followed Val's gaze, and she slightly nodded in agreement. As the two of them approached, the woman's eyes narrowed slightly as she realized they were walking towards her wickedly sharp knife with appreciation before meeting the woman's dark eyes fearlessly. 

"I don't barter goods for my services," She said in a rough tone. A foreign accent coated her words, making her words sound even gruffer, "I only accept coin."

 "Then you'll be out of luck in this sort of place," Val responded cooly, her head tilting slightly as she continued her appraisal of the woman in front of her. 

The woman slightly straightened up, her eyes narrowing even further at Val. Like recognized like, and the mercenary had been around long enough to spot a predator, and despite Val's malnourished frame, the woman recognized Val for what she could be. "What is your business with me, girl?"

This time it was Feyre who spoke, "We have a wolf pelt, and a doe hide for sale. We thought you might be interested in purchasing them."

"You two steal them?"

"No." Feyre denied, her voice going hard at the question, "I hunted them myself. I swear it."

The mercenary's gaze shifted over to Feyre. "How." It wasn't a question but a demand. Val felt herself slightly bristle at the woman's tone, but she remained silent. 

Despite Feyre having just hunted, Val was itching for her own hunt. Unlike Feyre, who did it out of necessity, Val found it oddly calming. Val hated taking an innocent animal's life, and she found no joy in that part. What she liked was the freedom in the woods as she tracked her prey. Those few seconds of predatory focus as she drew her bow back, she loved it. It was freeing. 

It helped quiet the years of anger and pain that festered in her heart. The same anger she suppressed for the sake of her sisters because if she let it all go, she had no idea of the destruction she could cause.

Val continued her silence, letting Feyre tell the story of how she acquired the pelts. Val grew tense as she heard Feyre's suspicions of the wolf being a Fae, but she just clenched her jaw, making a note to talk to her sister about it later. 

The mercenary gestured towards the satchel, "Let me see," She ordered. Feyre pulled out the hides. "You weren't lying about the wolf's size," The mercenary murmured, running her hands over it as she studied it with a keen expert eye. "Doesn't seem like a faerie, though."

The mercenary looked back up, her eyes glancing between Feyre and Val, and for a brief second, they flicked to look at something over their shoulders before focusing back on Feyre. She named her price. 

Both Feyre and Val froze in shock. They hadn't expected that. The woman was overpaying by a lot. 

"Why?" Val questioned suspiciously. 

For a brief second, the mercenary's lips twitched at Val's brazenness before once again looking past them, "I'm assuming those two girls watching from across the square are your sisters," She said, "You all have that brassy hair—and that hungry look about you." 

Val knew she didn't share her sister's golden brown hair, but it didn't take a genius to see the resemblance she had with them.  

"We don't need your pity," Feyre glared. 

No, but we could use the money, Val thought, and the mercenary echoed her thoughts.

"No, but you need my money," She said, "and the other traders have been cheap all morning. Everyone's too distracted by those calf-eyed zealots bleating across the square." She jerked her chin towards the square, where the Children of the Blessed were still trying to recruit people to their cause in vain. This time the mercenary didn't bother hiding the small smile, "Up to you, girl."

Val was about to agree, but Feyre spoke first, "Why?" It wasn't laced with suspicion like when Val asked, just curiosity. 

She shrugged. "Someone once did the same for me and mine, at a time when we needed it most. Figure it's time to repay what's due."

Of course, Feyre, her darling sister who could be too kind and proud for her own good—despite what she might say—offered the mercenary some of their father's carvings in a way to make the payment fairer. 

However, the mercenary waved off the offer. "I travel light and have no need for them. These, however—" She patted the pelts in her hands, "—save me the trouble of killing them myself."

Val nodded, and Feyre copied her actions. The mercenary reached for the coin purse inside her heavy coat. Val didn't need to look inside to see that it was full of silver and even gold. 

It was a known fact that mercenaries were generally well-paid, and Val had thought about becoming one of them as the days grew harder on her family. It was better than some of the things she'd done to bring coin to the table, and she found the thought of becoming a mercenary frequented her brain more often as the years grew worse. 

The only thing that stopped her, however, was her sisters. She didn't think she could leave them for months at a time. The pain she'd find a way to push through, but the thought of leaving her sisters was a different kind of pain. Val needed them. They were all she had, and the thought of being alone...a hollow pit formed in her stomach, and she pushed the thought away before she could dwell on it. 

The mercenary handed Val the coins, who tucked them into her pocket. Val knew Elain and Nesta saw the transaction, but they wouldn't pester her as they would with Feyre, hence why she had taken the coins. 

"Thank you," Feyre said stiffly, while Val just nodded. 

The mercenary stroked the wolf pelt. "A word of advice, from one hunter to another."

Both Val and Feyre looked at her, raising an eyebrow. 

"Don't go far into the woods. I wouldn't even get close to where you were yesterday. A wolf this size would be the least of your problems. More and more, I've been hearing stories about those things slipping through the wall."

Feyre lightly shuddered, "Are they—are they going to attack?"

Plans were already forming in Val's mind if that were the case. She may not outright hate the fae, but she wasn't stupid. She knew the stories of the High Lords who had taken humans as slaves. Killed and tortured her kind as sport. It may have been centuries ago, but Val wouldn't risk the chance of that happening to her family if the fae ever decided to go back on the treaty.

The mercenary's face gave nothing away, "No one knows what the fae are planning. We don't know if the High Lords' leash on their beasts is slipping or if these are targeted attacks. I guarded for an old nobleman who claimed it had been getting worse these past fifty years. He got on a boat south two weeks ago and told me I should leave if I was smart. Before he sailed off, he admitted that he'd had word from one of his friends that in the dead of night, a pack of martax crossed the wall and tore half his village apart."

Fear filled Val, not for herself but for her sisters. Her instincts screamed at her to take them as far south as possible if that were the case. 

"Martax?" Feyre breathed, voice laced with the same fear rushing through Val's veins.

The mercenary's night-dark eyes flickered. "Body big as a bear's, head something like a lion's—and three rows of teeth sharper than a shark's. And mean—meaner than all three put together. They left the villagers in literal ribbons, the nobleman said." 

She continued, "So we don't know what all these attacks mean, other than more hires for me, and you keeping well away from the wall. Especially if the High Fae start turning up—or worse, one of the High Lords. They would make the martax seem like dogs."

Val's eyes drifted to the woman's scarred hands. "Have you ever faced another type of faerie?" She couldn't help but ask. 

Her eyes shuttered. "You don't want to know, girl—not unless you want to be hurling up your breakfast."

"Tell me," Val demanded, her voice hard. 

The woman studied Val for a second before pulling back the sleeve of her heavy jacket to reveal her tanned, muscled forearm marred with gruesome, twisted scars. Val swallowed harshly but felt no disgust. Scars told stories, the stories of survivors. Anyone who survived had scars. Even Val had scars. She believed they were something to be proud of, no matter how horrible the story that came with it was because, at the end of it, they could say they survived.

"Didn't have the brute force or size of a martax," The mercenary said, "but its bite was full of poison. Two months—that's how long I was down; four months until I had the strength to walk again." She then pulled up the leg of her trousers. Black spidery veins contrasted against the tanned skin. It was almost mesmerizingly horrific to see. "Healer said there was nothing to be done for it—that I'm lucky to be walking with the poison still in my legs. Maybe it'll kill me one day. Maybe it'll cripple me. But at least I'll go knowing I killed it first."

Feyre placed a hand on Val's shoulder, her face unnaturally pale, "Thanks for the warnings," She said tightly.

The mercenary's attention flicked to something behind them, and a faint smile of amusement curled at her lips. "Good luck."

A second later, a slender hand clamped onto Val's forearm, pulling her and Feyre away. Neither of them had to look to know it was Nesta, no villager would dare touch them, especially with Val around, and Elain was too gentle and timid to even approach them while they were with that mountain of a woman. 

"They're dangerous," Nesta hissed, her fingers dug into Val's arms as she continued to pull tug her and Feyre from the mercenary. "Don't go near them again."

"Let me go," Val quietly demanded, not appreciating being manhandled. In an instant, Nesta let go. Val's eyes narrowed as she studied her twin and Elain's pale face, "Is there something I should know?"

"They're brutes and will take any copper they can get, even if it's by force," Nesta said, trying to wave it off. 

Val glanced back at the mercenary studying her new pelts, "She robbed you?" Val questioned, her voice dangerously quiet. 

"Not her," Elain murmured. "Some other one who passed through. We had only a few coins, and he got mad, but—"

"Why didn't you report him—or tell us?" Feyre questioned. 

"What could you have done?" Nesta sneered. "Challenged him to a fight with your bow and arrows? And who in this sewer of a town would even care if we reported anything?"

"What about your Tomas Mandray?" Feyre challenged coolly. 

Nesta's eyes flashed, but a glance over Feyre's shoulder had her attitude taking a complete turn as her glare melted into a sickly sweet smile. "Your friend is waiting for you."

Val turned just in time to see Isaac tilting his head at Feyre. Val's jaw clenched. It wasn't that she didn't like Isaac, but Feyre deserved more than a quick rut in a barn. Feyre, out of all of them, deserved more and Val wished that one day her sister would experience love to its truest extent, but for now, if Isaac eased the loneliness Feyre felt, then Val wouldn't say a word. 

Sometimes, Val wished she could do the same thing. It wasn't that she had a shortage of admirers. She was quite aware of the beauty she and her sisters possessed, especially Elain—perhaps that was why Nesta was so protective over their younger sister. Yet, anytime the thought would come, the ring around her neck felt heavier and changed her mind. She wasn't ready. She didn't think she'd ever be ready. 

Nesta clicked her tongue, crossing her arms. "I do hope you two are taking precautions."

"It's a bit late to pretend to care," Feyre snapped back. 

Val placed a calming hand on Feyre's arm, drawing her youngest sister's attention towards her. "Go," Val said gently, nodding to where Isaac had disappeared. She couldn't help the slight, sly smirk that crawled onto her lips. She may not approve of the boy, but she remembered what it was like to be young. "Have some fun."

A slight blush dusted Feyre's cheeks, but the younger girl gave Val a grateful look before walking off. Val then turned towards her remaining sisters. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a twenty-mark copper. Ignoring Elain's sharp inhale, she handed it over. 

"I'll meet you guys back at home," Val said, and without waiting for a response, she walked away. 

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banner credits: saradika-graphics & reveriesources

[gravitytrips]

Scout and Soldier are besties I swear

Scout and Soldier were fighting again. It was playful and fun until Soldier said something he shouldn’t have. 

“And your brothers should have just left you in the streets you ninny!”

The fight immediately stopped. Soldier instantly recognized his mistake, clapping both hands over his mouth. Scout froze, standing rigid.

Soldier tried to remedy his mistake.

“I’m sorry Scout I didn’t mean to say that. I swear on Colonel Scratch’s life that I didn’t mean for those words to leave my brain.”

Scout didn’t respond. He didn’t speak. He simply turned on his heels and ran. 

He ran through the kitchen, across the living room, and out the door.

He kept running.

Down the road.

Through town.

Out into the desert.

After running far enough into the sandy wasteland that the town was no longer in sight, Scout collapsed to the dusty earth, sobbing.

The memory of his brothers beating him to a bloody pulp and leaving him in an alleyway to die pulled through his brain, pushing tears out of his eyes.

Scout cried through the night, only stopping when the emotions had exhausted him too much to stay awake. So there he slept, under the gray morning sky.

Scout awoke several hours later, the sun beating down on him. His skin was burnt and peeling. His lips were cracked and dry. It was midday. He had been played out for hours. Vultures circled above.

Scout stood, taking in his surroundings. Teufort was nowhere in sight.

“Aw crap”

Even for how weak Scout’s radiation-poisoned brain was, he could recognize that this situation was extremely dangerous.

He turned around a few times. His footprints from the previous night had been blown away by the desert wind.

So, he used the outline of his body in the sand to guess what direction he came from and started walking. His mind fogged. His vision blurred. His steps became stumbles.

The team wanted to go after Scout immediately, but after hearing what happened, they all decided that the boy needed some time alone. 

What a mistake.

The next day, when they all awoke and there was no sign of Scout, panic began to set in. The Heavy, who had stayed up all night to wait for Scout was the most concerned. 

They gathered supplies and set out to search for him.

About a mile into the desert they found him, collapsed in a small patch of cacti. He was unconscious. Severely sunburned. Dangerously dehydrated. And had several cactus thorns stuck in his skin. 

Scout was barely breathing. There wasn’t enough time to carry him all the way back to base, so Medic quickly began ordering the group around so that he could keep Scout from dying.

When Scout had been moved to the shade of a nearby stone face, Medic began attempting to revive him. He pulled the thorns out of Scout’s chest, face, and arms and performed CPR. 

Scout gasped loudly as his senses suddenly returned to him. Once his eyes focused, he recognized the face of Medic, who was right next to him. Worry etched the doctor’s features. Medic sat Scout up and brought a small cup of cool water to his lips. Scout would have taken the cup and drank it all in one gulp, only there were two problems. One was that Medic was telling him to drink slowly (and who had the balls to ago against what Medic commands?), and two was that Scout’s arms didn’t seem to work. So, Scout was stuck drinking the water at the pace that Medic tilted the cup at. 

He suddenly tasted iron. Then, Scout realized that the water was hurting his cracked lips.

Once the cup was finished, the rim was lined with Scout’s blood.

The boy licked his lips. 

Suddenly, a large figure appeared next to him. Heavy. 

Scout barely heard Medic telling Heavy to pick Scout up so they could take him back to base. 

In Scout’s mind, he was seven years old again, beaten senseless in an alleyway, helpless to save himself. He didn’t know how he managed to survive. There had been no one to save him then. 

He was so happy that there were people he could rely on now

@aerowolf

[frodo-with-glasses]

For the writing ask could you do "sunshine" "autumn" and "childhood"? And I don't mind at all if you answer them separately lol 😁

Sunshine

Pippin always used to get terrible sunburns.

Some hobbits, especially those of the Harfoot strain, were blessed with the ability to tan. Come summer, many of the working-class hobbits around the Shire would be tinted a few shades darker around the face and arms (with hilariously, starkly paler skin under the collars and rolled-up sleeves). Unsightly as a “farmer’s tan” might be, it protected them from the sun as they worked, and therefore was tolerated in favor of its benefits.

Tooks, by and large, didn’t even have this luxury. Hailing from the Fallowhide strain, they had inherited fair hair and fairer skin, and that meant the sun was their enemy. Pippin in particular never tanned; his skin simply produced more freckles, adding to the multitude of them that already probably made up half the total number of freckles in the Shire.

And then he burned.

Adventurous as he was, his delicate complexion had never actually discouraged him from gallivanting about outside. Summer days in his childhood were long and full of adventure, and when he returned home—usually guided by his stomach announcing mealtimes—he’d often bring in tow bugs and sticks and flowers and funny-looking mushrooms and rocks and more bugs and a terrible sunburn.

Of course he sat and sulked through the scolding from his mother, and whined and moaned through the painful process of his skin peeling afterwards, but given that he was a spectacularly short-sighted little ninny it probably shouldn’t be a surprise that he was well into his tweens before his mind grasped the concept of Cause and Effect and realized, “Oh! If I try not to burn first, then I won’t peel later! Amazing!”

From the moment of this revelation onward, Pippin’s relationship with the sun turned into one of fierce animosity. Come summertime, he suddenly transformed into a near recluse, restricting himself to the indoors during the day and refusing any excursions until after nightfall. If he had absolutely no choice but to go outside while the sun was shining, he would take every precaution possible—hats and pastes and long sleeves and riding in covered wagons rather than walking places—to avoid a sunburn.

He still failed, of course. The world is a cruel and unforgiving place, and some tragedies can never be avoided.

A few years into his vigilant war on the sun, he was forced to accept a ceasefire; his efforts were garnering diminishing returns, and the endeavor had proven unsustainable. He and the sun reached a truce: he would do what he could, within reason, to avoid this discomfort.

And the sun would burn him anyway.

Fast forward a few years, and the Quest concerning Frodo and his Ring had forced Pippin to surrender a great deal of his usual comforts and luxuries; including his options for avoiding sunburn. Even in cold, cloudy October, he somehow managed to gain a thin line of pink on his nose and cheeks on the road from Bree to Rivendell.

He didn’t complain much, however, even when it started to itch and sting. That was the other interesting development. Somehow, Frodo’s injury and failing health had sucked dry any desire Pippin had had to fuss or whine about himself, and he kept his mouth quite tightly shut until after the race to Rivendell.

(Now of course, once Frodo had recovered and was out of bed and looking more like himself again, Pippin ceased to have any reservations about airing his grievances to anyone and everyone who would listen, but we won’t talk about that.)

But as the Quest continued and Pippin spent more time outdoors than he had since his childhood—under skies overcast or snowing or shaded by tall trees—something interesting began to happen.

He started to darken.

Not by much, of course—not as much as Sam—and his skin still seemed to prefer production of freckles to actual tanning, but he darkened nonetheless. The march across the plains of Rohan, jostled between ranks of orcs, was brutal under the pounding sun, but when he sat on Treebeard’s table and drank the Ent-draught, his face was a full shade browner than it had been when they set off for Crickhollow all those months ago, and he hadn’t gotten a sunburn any worse than some redness on his nose.

Slow exposure, over time, had taught his skin to protect itself, even as he began to get thicker skin metaphorically. War was coming. He couldn’t be the lily-fair gentlehobbit hiding in his room for the sake of his complexion anymore.

It was in the wake of the fiercest battle he’d ever seen—and he was wearing different clothes and a different title and new responsibilities—when he found Merry wearing foreign armor and slumped on a doorstep in Minas Tirith.

Pippin eased the helmet off of Merry’s head—brushing the frayed horse hairs out of his face—and set it on the flagstones nearby. He looked so pale…so weak. That wasn’t like Merry. Merry was brave and strong and smart and indefatigable, and here he was, lying in Pippin’s lap and looking very still.

Pippin gently reached for his hands, and held them between his own. The right hand was cold…so cold.

He’d been sitting there for a moment—long enough to watch Merry’s chest rise and fall as he breathed, but not long enough for his legs to go numb and tingly—when he began to discern a soft touch of warmth on his cheek. He looked up. Far up in the sky, above the stone roofs of the city, the sun was beaming down, filling this patch of abandoned road with warmth and light.

And as Pippin sat there, he smiled. The touch brought him back to those carefree summers he’d known when he was a child—to a time before all this animosity and strife—a time before everything.

Keep him warm for me, he thought, and I can forgive everything else. I don’t mind it anymore.

So they sat there, waiting for the sound of footsteps, and rested in a patch of sunshine.

WORD ASK GAME!

[booksandchainmail]

Pale 9.10

Oh, glad there's a bigger map now, the one from the brochure was not super useful anymore. Especially the fur appearances map, really useful for keeping track of this.

Interesting that Louise is just within the perimeter, I wonder if that impacted why she was the one to see the Beast?

“Where’s Verona?” Lucy asked, prepared to strangle Snowdrop for not having already opened her mouth to say.

aww

“I think she’s learned how to cope with her dad and she hasn’t had the chance with her mom because she’s not around.  I think her dad hurts her feelings just as much but she’s adapted.  Not with her mom.” Avery nodded. “You think she said something?” Lucy winced. “That’s my best guess.”

I guess Lucy isn't guessing Verona's father is because she thinks Verona knows how to handle that. Which is mostly true, but their relationship has been deteriorating quickly since Verona Awakened, and I don't think Lucy's been around Verona's house enough to realize that it's gotten that much worse

Verona becoming a cat like that and refusing to communicate was stirring some anxiety deep in her stomach. A worry that had been there since Verona had confessed that she didn’t want to be human anymore. That Verona could do that, go down that road, and stop being Verona anymore.

Hmm, conflating two things here I think. I mean, becoming an Other is a drastic step, and would cause some changes, but I think Verona would find a way to preserve her Self. Or at least the parts of it that matter to her, and her friendship with Lucy is certainly part of that.

Verona, head bowed, hair wet, trickles of water streaming down one hand, crouched with one hand on the furs.  They were glossy and bright and all light seemed to catch on them and in them, making them glow almost from within, a deep red that was redder because of the light Lucy’s mask cast out. Verona had seen that light.  She looked up at them with reflective violet eyes that caught the points of red from Lucy’s mask.  Water all over her body caught that same light. Her expression… like Lucy’s mom had been, sitting on her bed when Paul had left. In the nightmare, where Booker had just died. Like John was, sometimes.

welp. The furs are not helping here.

Also this would make really cool art

Then Verona raised her hands, pulling one away from the damaged pipe.  Two index fingers pressed together.  Two thumbs touched, roughly in line.  A triangle shape.  Her hands stretched overhead, toward them, and her expression changed, her lips moved.

this has got to be a handsign that exists in naruto

I don’t speak freaking Tashlit, you ninny!  She’s coming!  “What does she want?”

oh, actually: upwards facing triangle is one of the elemental symbols, right? Fire, or Air if there's a crossbar?

Lucy could barely complete the thought or wonder what that was before an eruption followed.  Flame and smoke punched out and Edith was thrown against the logs that bounded the steps down and kept dirt from flowing in and blocking the cellar door.

I was right!

... Did Verona just set off a gas explosion?

... Is Verona okay in there?

Edith’s body banked off of those logs, flipped counter-clockwise when it felt like she should have flipped clockwise, and crumpled into the grass and foliage five feet away.

Holy shit, fucking ragdolled her.

Verona had pushed stuff off the table, leaving room only for the furs, her bag, and herself.  She was hunched over, drawing.  Lucy could see dark staining at her hands, purple-black, with some blood, her eyes violet. Scary. Scarier to see how the furs reacted. Each line prompted them to stretch her way, strands reaching. A stretch of flexible, raw hide with a still wet, still bloody underside flopped her way, then reached. And she didn’t push it away.

This is, like, definitely bad, but also it would be really cool if Verona got semi-possessed by the furs of violence

She reached for Verona’s bag, and Verona tensed.  Lucy froze, hand still extended down, smoke peeling off of her skin, her eyes glowing a soft red.

I'm guessing Verona a) is protective of her bag right now and b) doesn't want Lucy seeing what happened

You nearly killed her, Lucy told Verona.  You do this when things are bad, jumping to extremes. Pressure gets applied and you… you come up with the Brownie plan for Bristow. You put your face on Shellie and get her impaled by the nettlewisp.

it works in the moment, but burns bridges pretty dramatically. And is also, you know, maybe morally questionable and kinda scary for her friends.

But it is effective! So impossible to say if rapidly escalating to lethal measures is bad or not, etc etc

“I don’t think this is a movie for kids,” Lucy said.  “Even if it’s a cartoon.” Verona leaned forward, fascinated, tracking the art, the motion, the fluidity of it.  It moved like no kids movie she’d ever seen.  She drank in the art, the newness of it.

welcome to anime!

“That’s a pretty little beating heart you’ve got there,” the man on screen said, walking over limp tentacles.  One tentacle-base shifted, sliding up his naked torso to his shoulder, merged with his arm, and became his arm, so he now reached with an elongated limb to the cyborg.  She pulled away and couldn’t break his grip.  He smirked.  “I intend to fuck it.”

ok yeah that is not for kids

Verona was happy, because that meant they were watching to the end, and she liked this, bundled together in the dark, having had way too much soda and junk food, watching something they shouldn’t, hands gripping one another’s hands and wrists so tight. 

this is very cute, weird tentacle violence anime aside

She found Verona’s hands, taking one, drawing it close to her chest.  Verona didn’t fight, but she didn’t help either.  Putting Verona’s hand in the hand Lucy held in the sling meant holding it so the back of the hand rested against her heart.  Lucy gripped it, tight, then gripped the two hands with her other hand. Verona reached up, and laid her other hand over top. Her fingertips dug into the back of Lucy’s hand.

<3

Avery.  She was muddy, which suggested she’d taken a shortcut through the Warrens, and she was damp, which suggested she’d either gone to the wet cellar beneath the cabin or she’d cut through the rainy part of the ruins to get here.  Avery advanced a step, then hesitated.

wondering if she's included in this comfort

“If I hadn’t promised you guys I’d ask first, I might’ve tried to wear the furs,” Verona stated.  No emotion in her voice.  Fact.

ah. I'd wondered that a bit, if Verona would wind up wearing them, what that would do to her. I hadn't thought of it as that deliberate a choice though.

“I look better in black or stripes than red,” Verona muttered.  “Yeah.”

you can't coopt Lucy's color theme!

“You think that’s the key thing, Ronnie?” Lucy asked, squeezing their hands together.  “Color coordination?”

this was actually the main reason I didn't think Verona would wear the furs

“I wanna- I wanna feel like I can breathe again, like it’s all just done with and I’m apart from it all and I don’t have school assignments gnawing holes in my stomach, and this sucky feeling when I hear the door slam and my dad’s home, or the doubts creeping in when I’m trying to meet new Others and figure them out, or the deadline of the end of summer… and if I wore the furs or did something then I could… I could take a deep breath again.  I could sit in the sun.”

:(

"I want to have a sleepover again, and find the worst, most inappropriate, weirdest things to watch, and maybe laugh like we did, then.  I thought about that.  I had that memory but I forgot what it felt like, then, until we went through it, again.”

I've talked a bunch about Verona being really disconnected from her current emotions, and it looks like that's also impacting her ability to remember feeling those strong emotions from before she was having problems.

She wanted to ask follow up questions but it felt like it would only hurt Verona.  She wished there was a guidebook for this sort of thing.  Talking to someone in a bad place.

oh there are, but in general I think if you get to the point where you need one it's too late to find one without making things weird.

“Alright,” Lucy said, voice soft.  “My worry is you… you didn’t go berserk but you definitely jumped into that cellar and… operated on instinct?  Is that right?  This is like that cyborg woman tying into the mainframe and going all out on the penis demon.” “Wut,” Avery said.

correct response, Avery! I'm also losing it at the spelling there

Lucy explained, “It’s similar.  Being cold, leaning on her training, everything else stripped away just… the dangerous instincts left.”

Sort of Taylor vibes, in a way. Also a character archetype I like a lot.

“-I don’t know what I’m supposed to do but if I go back I’m worried I- I’m done.  I, me, my Self, done for.  He doesn’t budge much at all so the only thing that budge or change if I’m there is me.”

upside of Demesne ritual: it would help Verona get out of her dad's house

Her voice cracked again, and for a moment Verona looked really angry at herself.  Like her own voice cracking was the most infuriating part of things.

... mood

“This is… almost too much,” Verona said, quiet.  “Us three, here, talking about this.” “Too much?” Avery asked. “I don’t want us to be too much for me.  Because that’s scary.  So I need to be alone.”

Sometimes care and kindness and supportive processing of emotions is what breaks the walls of repression that are keeping someone going, which is probably a good thing overall but also sucks and ruins one's ability to function.

Honestly a nice walk would probably be good here, or some distracting practice to focus on. Alas for the plot circumstances getting in the way.

“And I’d need promises,” Lucy said.  “Please.” “What promises?” Verona asked. She met Lucy’s eyes for what felt like the first time in minutes. “That you won’t hurt anyone. Because you hurt people too much when you’re under pressure. That you won’t do anything drastic.”

please put conditions around this to allow for reasonable self-defense

What the heck are we going to do with those furs?  Lucy wondered.

Good question. Best option might just be to give them to John and get him seated as the new Carmine Judge, without the risk of the furs backing a challenge.

“My dear, I love your hair and earring,” a woman said, as Lucy passed.

The two parts of Lucy that most reflect the practice

She was tall, slender, fifty but wearing ‘fifty’ in a way that was attractive, with a light dress that looked like it should be see-through or immodest but wasn’t and almost admonished Lucy for thinking in that direction, and perfume that should have been overpowering but was actually tasteful…

probably good it isn't Avery running into her

“I think Verona needs a bit of space for right now.  There’s some messy stuff to deal with.  But… after?” There was no response. “Mom?” “Um, sure honey. I’ll be on the edge of my seat until you walk in the door, but I’ll trust you there, okay?”

taking a moment of sympathy for Jasmine, who has already been Going Through It, then gets "My friend with the abusive dad is in bad shape, I don't know how to help her, I won't be home until later, bye" dropped on her.

[elithegnome]

Walk in The Park

FrUk fic

CW: None really, unless you count Arthur’s brothers being nosy little shits

Also name guide for the UK bros

Alastair: Scotland

Liam: Ireland (I headcanon as their half brother)

Conner: N. Ireland

Gwilym: Wales

—————————————————————————

“Where is he?” Was the only question running through Arthur’s mind. Francis usually arrived late, but that never stopped the Brit from questioning his lover. Pressing a hand to his forehead, the disheveled figure slumped in his seat.

“Oi what’s wrong brother?” A thick Scottish accent interrogated, “Another migraine?”

Arthur leaned back in his chair again, “No  Alastair, it’s not that.” He sighed, tousling his locks, “Just waiting for a friend.”

Someone else snickered softly, followed by footsteps against the creaky oak floor. A freckled hand planted itself on Arthur’s shoulder. 

“I don’t think it’s a friend,” Liam declared, his dimples showing with his cheeky smile, “Lads, I think our own Arthur has finally gotten some bitches!”

“Liam!” Arthur shouted, a deep blush appearing on his face. By some sort of misfortune, the doorbell rang right then. 

Arthur shot to his feet, sprinting over to the door. Just before any of his brothers could find out who this mystery person was, Arthur slammed the dark wooden mass. 

“Aggressive now are we?” The Frenchman laughed, placing a kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek. 

Grunting like some sort of aggravated dog, Arthur gripped Francis’ hand and dragged him down the road.

————————————————————

“So your brothers are the problem?” Francis questioned, watching Arthur throw rocks into the pond.

“Yes!” Arthur admitted, “Not so much Conner and Gwilym— but it’s mainly Alastair and Liam.” 

The other nodded, running a hand through the dry fall grass, “Mhm. Tell me how.”

“Well-“ the Brit grunted, flopping down onto the earth with Francis, “Alastair scares away everyone I date. And Liam’s just such a nosy roach!”

“Because they care.”

“What?” 

“They care, Arthur.” Francis continued, “If they didn’t care, they would let you go around banging everyone in the world. What I think you should do, is let me meet your family instead of being such a big baby.”

Arthur’s face flushed a bright red once again, “I’m not a big baby!”

“Well you sure act like one.” Francis teased, stroking his boyfriend’s cheek. 

He groaned, rolling closer to Francis, paying no mind to the grass stains forming on his white shirt.

“You’re alright Francis, you know that?”

“Oui, I’m the best.”

“Shut it you ninny.” Arthur scoffed, slowly pulling Francis into a slow kiss.

Meanwhile, four brothers with binoculars watched the couple behind a bush. Particularly, the oldest one becoming slightly hot-headed.

“Allaistar they’re adults, let them be. Also it’s just Francis, aren’t you two friends or something?” Conner begged, trying to not let his brother fly off the handle. 

“Aye, but he hates the bloke! Since when did that end?!” 

Liam and Gwilym clapped their hands around the Scotsman’s mouth, who was still rambling endlessly. The quartet gave up eventually, opting to go home and try their best to calm the raging brunette.

Arthur and Francis on the other hand, had a lovely stroll through St James Park. Their hands entwined the whole time, leaves crunching beneath their feet all the way. 

[merulast]

Tech talk

Tomorrow is kickoff. How do I feel? Kinda. Okay? I fetch a flu on the last days and my credo "do this or die on the road" starts to kick in. But on the other hand we always get a flu when we don't need it, eh? And when had we ever needed one? Anyway.

So far I wrote quite some Blog posts about how to find routes and plan stupid stuff. Stupid, because many things will not work once you start the trip anyway. But planing is still a good thing (isn't it?) because at least you learn about the possible options. And knowing the options is always a good thing!

But lets talk about something else: The Tech!!!!11!elf

It's so tech!!

I want to travel some 'roads' that are not very common for mid Europeans to hit. And what do you do if you want to know more but have no friends that ever leaves the home town? You reach out for social media and videos. And you probably had already noticed that I'm not quite a fan of vtubers and traveling youtubers. I would love to rant a bit more about them. But not now.

I still enjoyed to see the scenery. To see the locations. See the bus or the trains and having the opportunity to create my own, silly incomplete picture of what it is like. And so I decided that I also want to capture media! At least this time. Because last time, I did not even shot an single picture of anything in more then 1 year of living in Xi'an.

What to do with this media. Well. I don't really know! Will I just place them online? Maybe? Make youtube Videos that violate alot of copyrights? Maybe! Make fun on other popular vtuber content that made me cringe? Hell yeah! We will see!

(obviously I will most likely do nothing of all that!)

(Noel Philips - full time 'being not at home to review toilets' v-tuber)

Timelapse

The main brain fart that made me plan this trip was to see and feel the 'world' in between two places. And I noticed that some bored highway guys made timelapse videos of driving from a to b.

And while timelapse videos can have this 2007-warcraft-rouge-in-bw-with-linking-park-music feeling, they also can be interesting. Plus they ripe like wine. They are usually just showing the raw thing. No filters, no effects. No 'selection' of what to see. And I kinda like this. Nobody might be interested into a timelapse now. But it might be interesting later.

Anyway. So I decided to try that. And noticed, that there are not really affordable 'timelapse' Devices on the marked o.o?

Mobile Phones can do the trick. If you use some nice apps, they even could do it well. But for how long? What do you think how long will your power last? Mobile phones are small computers. They are not meant to record something for 4,8,24,48 hours non stop. And im pretty sure that most of the apps had not been written for this kind of 'professional usage', too.

Cameras are bigger devices. The can have a lot more capacity on board and the image quality should be nice. Okay. Do you want to spend more then 500 bucks on them? I .. dont know. Isn't it overkill? Another thing is that this cameras are huge. How to place them in public transport and let them run for 24h without getting robbed?

Build something! Yeah. Sure.

I got my hands on a cheap gopro7. When it comes to timelapse feature, there is absolute nothing positive to get something more modern. It shoots in 1080p and, to my big surprise, the build in power supply was able to last 12 hours straight without external supply. It is smal and I can easily tape it where-ever I want. With one picture taken all 5 seconds there is no shaking visible, even if I tape it straight to the casis of a bus, the picture remains very smooth.

360° Pictures

Why isn't this a thing? You shoot a picture and people can look around the whole place! ITS AMAZING! Fuck selfie with Ninni-Graniny in front of a Town sign. See the whole place! You can even upload them on google 'streetmap'!

See that tiny blue bubbles? Klick on them to see what this part of 'desert' looks like.

✅ Thats amazin! How could you not love this to look around all by yourself?!

❌ Serious cameras that make 360° pictures our of the box start at much moneyz

✅ But every modern smart phone can do that out of the boy if you take multiple pictures!

🆗 And It may looks not very professional for many reasons. You should watch an tutorial for better results

(who told you emojis would look nice on this? Grandmother whatsapp?)

Conclusion

So yeah. I will try both. Making some 360° pictures of locations that have none available, and also record the time lapse. We will see how it turns out!

[the-firebird69]

We do have some things to say the atmosphere here is terrible these people are horrible they're a bunch of wankers and jerks and misfits and evil people and we want them out of here I don't think I'm getting straight answers from any of them on stuff that everybody knows and that's ridiculous we have to get them out of here they're just a bunch of squeaking weasels and it and they did it all morning long and they squats like madness

-our son and daughter are under extreme duress and they're by these people and from the max through the pseudo empire and he can't stand any of them and they don't care and he doesn't have much to threaten them with they think and they go around threat to him they end up dead and they can't figure it out I want them stopped I'm tired of their b******* and I'm tired of them looking at dead people and saying they did this and that and this and it's ridiculous they don't have any discipline at all with regards to our son and that's what you need for a plan and they don't care to have it so they think they have what they need or something and we're going to go with that I'm going to keep saying it to them this is so damned annoying and I don't care for them making small ships either they can make them punch and think they're okay and that's what it's for but we're going to start taking them now

Thor Freya

We have heard enough from them this morning to surmise that there are a bunch of jackasses and we need them out

Olympus

Good finally and it's coming down the road anyways and this is how the pseudo empire handles us and talks to us and has a safe stuff to these people terrific so you won't have a chance if he moves over there so what they say and they're probably going to have to move over there and it'll probably be us moving them they say cuz they're a bunch of ninnies

Hera

And was smarter but with dumber in a way and that's the way we're dumber we got caught don't care no that's what these people do and our teams are doing it and they should stop doing this but I guess they can't he says so they're going to handle us in the empire and they can

Stan

[saratogaroadwrites]

For King and Country (116/122)

For King and Country | saratogaroad rating: T total wordcount:  280,466 characters: Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Roland Crane, Aranella, Batu, Tani, Lofty, Leander Aristidies, Bracken Meadows relationships: Roland Crane & Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Aranella & Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Roland Crane & Aranella, Batu & Tani, Batu & Evan, Tani & Evan, Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum & Lofty, Rolander other tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Mother-Son Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Place Slowly Becomes Home People Slowly Become Family, Found Family, For Want of A Nail warnings: none

Pulled from his world by mysterious powers, former president Roland Crane finds himself caught in the middle of a coup meant to take the life of the young King Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum. Joining forces with Aranella, the pair of them set out to aid Evan in making his dream of a kingdom where everyone can live happily ever after a reality.

But the road to peace is a long and treacherous one and there is no promise of success in a world where darkness spreads ever thicker with each passing day. If they are to stand a chance, they must stand together, for king and for country.

(A retelling.)

=

”Roland! Roland, you ninny, where are you?!”

Awareness tugged at him, trying to pull him from the thick fog that clung to his senses. Everything seemed…muffled. Distant. Just opening his eyes took too much effort. A few more minutes sleep would be alright.

”Roland lad! Ye can’t mean ta leave us now!”

It was just a few more minutes! He let sleep tug him back under.

”Roland! Come on! You’ve got to be here somewhere!”

”Roland, I beg of you! Answer us!”

…Wait. Something wasn’t right. They all sounded…panicked. Scared, at least. They wouldn’t be scared if he was just asleep. He tried to open his eyes, but it felt as if they were weighed down with stones. Why couldn’t he get up?

”Please!”, Aranella pleaded, ”Please, you cannot be dead! You just can’t be!”

They thought he was dead? He hardly slept that hard! Why would they—

Wait. What had happened? He could remember the Cradle, Evan and Leander taking Doloran down with their combined spell and then—he’d hurt. Everything had hurt so badly it had taken all he’d had not to scream. The spell and then…he’d punched Doloran, hadn’t he? His jaw twinged at the thought. He’d hit and then…he’d tried to talk Doloran around? He had. He’d tried, at least, but then…oh, but then what? He couldn’t remember.

“Roland…” Evan whimpered. “Roland, please…”

Evan.

With a gasp, Roland shot upright. A sudden sharp pain lanced through his chest, nearly forcing him back down before he could catch himself with one hand, the other clenching around a fistful of his coat. He grit his teeth, trying to ride it out. Yep. Now he remembered.

The Darkness had overtaken him, and this time there had been no holding it back. It had come fast and hard, claws tearing him apart from the inside out even faster than he could have reached for the Bond. Sucking in air through his teeth, he looked around. As far as he could see, everything was white. He was alone, but…he had heard the others. That had to mean that they were alright.

Gods, he hoped they were alright.

Slowly, the pain faded into something more manageable. Bracing himself on the ground he pushed himself first to his knees, then to his feet.

“Guys!” He called into the white. His voice faded out, flat in the open space. “Guys, can you hear me?!”

He held his breath, hoping for an answer but…nothing came. No one responded. He took a deep breath, lifting one hand to his mouth and whistling sharply. No answer to that, either. Dammit. How could he hear them but they couldn’t hear him? It was probably more magic. Leander or Evan or Lofty would have been able to explain, but he was on his own for the time being. He’d have to find his own way back.

Closing his eyes, he laid a hand on his chest and looked deep inside himself. If it was magic that had brought him here, maybe magic could get him out. He searched for the bond, and was surprised to find that the cold he’d come to associate with the Horned One’s power was gone. Vanished, like it had never been there at all. Did that mean that it was dead now? Had the others managed to take it out? A burst of pride welled in his chest. Of course they would have managed to take it out. They were more than capable of that!

But it did make him wonder. Had the bond not been strong enough to hold up in the face of that loss? Or had the Darkness gotten to him first? And if that had happened, what did it mean for the others? Fear settled in between his ribs, a chill he couldn’t shake off.

Focus, Crane, he scolded himself, Focus.

He had to trust that they were alright. Even if they weren’t, there was obviously nothing he could do from here. He had to get back first, and he had a feeling that meant the Bond. Centering his thoughts as best he could, he reached out for it. The warmth of it had held back the Darkness before but now…it was gone, too. Wait—no, it was still there, but it was just so faint! It was fading out fast, only the tiniest flickers of light left behind. He reached out, grabbing at it with both proverbial hands, and held on to that light.

His actual hand grew warm, and he opened his eyes. Six glowing threads, each no wider than a sheet of paper, wound their way around his fingers and wrist. They all braided together as they left his reach, twisting into a still thin but stronger rope of light that led far off into the distance, vanishing into the white. Voices echoed, too indistinct to truly pick out, and he narrowed his eyes. If he followed that light, would it lead him home? He was going to find out.

He was getting out of here. He was going home.

And so he ran. He didn’t know for how long he ran, or how far, but he ran. One foot in front of the other, he ran. He followed the rope through the white, the straight line it made from his hand and into the nothingness a simple path to follow. There was no getting lost as he ran, and so he ran until for what felt like hours, what had to have been miles, but nothing ever changed. The white stretched on, unending.

Other than the sound of his footsteps and his breathing, it was quiet now. Peaceful, in a dead and empty sort of way. Try as he might to not think about it, the thought wiggled its way into the forefront of his mind. Was he dead? This would be a crappy afterlife if he was! But…given what he did know, maybe…

No. He couldn’t think like that. No matter how empty things were, no matter how alone he was, he refused to believe this was the end. He refused to give up now.

And so he kept on running, following the light into the endless white for all the good it did him. He tried to keep time, tried to keep some track of how far he’d gone, but he might as well have been running in place. He never tired, never got thirsty or hot, he just…was. Even the voices had long gone silent. Slowly, Roland came to a stop.

…He really was dead, wasn’t he?

Dammit. Of the ways to—no. Dammit, no! He couldn’t be dead! Not when he’d promised them he’d stay! Gritting his teeth he shook his head. There had to be a way out of here. There just had to be! He had to find a way back! He couldn’t leave them! He wouldn’t!

But was that choice his to make? Had he ever even had a choice to begin with? Maybe this was what had always been meant to happen. Maybe he’d been living on borrowed time ever since his arrival, and his clock had finally been punched. He’d been there for nearly a year, after all. How many other people could have claimed dodging death with everything they’d all been through for so long. Almost a year.

Almost a year with some of the best people he’d ever met. He shouldn’t have wanted more time, but he did. A stray tear slid down his cheek and he hurried to stifle the rest, pressing the pads of his fingers to his eyes. Now wasn’t the time to break down. He’d see them again. He’d have more time with them. He would!

Taking a deep breath he started forward once more, though before he could get far a sense of familiarity settled around his shoulders, that old and familiar feeling wrapping around his aching heart. He turned, looking over his shoulder, and was only half surprised to see Doloran behind him. His Soul Mate had his back to him, but he seemed almost…smaller now. His shoulders were hunched, kingly robes in dirty tatters, and his head was bowed. Though Roland couldn’t see his face, the way he was standing said plenty. Roland glanced after the rope of light, still twined from the light around his hand, then shook his head. He turned around and walked towards his Soul Mate.

“Doloran.”

“Alisandra is gone.” Doloran whispered in a soft, broken voice. “Allegoria will not rise again. All that I have ever loved is lost to me.” His hands, trembling at his sides, clenched into fists. He lifted his head to stare into some distant point in the white. “Roland? Tell me. What great wrong did I do to deserve this?”

Roland hesitated, unsure. He didn’t have the answer to that question.

“Was it in surrendering to love that I erred?” Doloran asked when Roland didn’t reply. His voice grew in volume, edging towards hysteria as the words came faster and faster, his entire body shaking, “Or—was it accepting a crown of which I was not worthy?”

He whirled around, and Roland found himself staring into a mirror of his own face, tear tracks sliding down once again human skin. Doloran’s heartbroken expression made his own heart ache for the man.

“Please!” He pleaded, “Tell me!”

Roland held his tongue for a moment longer, unsure how to answer him. Doloran had done so many things wrong, made so many terrible decisions, but…he shook his head.

“You did a lot of things wrong, but loving Alisandra wasn’t one of them.” He said gently. More tears slid silently down Doloran’s face as he continued, “Loving someone, trying to keep that love alive, do right by your people…that’s never wrong. You just did what you could with the hand you were dealt, crap as it ended up being. That’s life.” He shrugged helplessly. “People do what they can. Try to live as best they can.” Crossing his arms over his chest he sighed tiredly. It had been a good year, all things considered. “And then the tide of history rolls in and sweeps us all away.”

As Doloran wiped at his face, Roland looked up into the featureless white expanse above them. How long had he been running from the tide, just trying to stay above water? He’d just finally run out of room, hadn’t he? He closed his eyes.

“Everything gets swept away eventually. You can’t hold back the tide.” He looked back to Doloran. “All we can do is tread water for as long as possible, but then…well.” He smiled ruefully. “What happens after isn’t up to us.”

“…No. I suppose it is not.” Doloran cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and sounded infinitely more put together as he added. “…Fate has never been known to be kind.”

“No. She hasn’t.” Roland agreed. He swallowed around a suddenly dry mouth, the words gathering in his throat. He didn’t want to know, but he had to be sure. It was weighing too heavily on his mind to leave it. “Doloran? Are we…are we dead?”

It was barely even a question. Doloran hummed quietly.

“Near enough, I suppose,” He said. “The Horned One’s magic sustained us both. For it to disappear so suddenly would be a heavy blow to anyone.” He sighed. “I suppose it is fitting that you and I should end up here together.”

Dammit. Dammit dammit dammit. He’d wanted so badly to be wrong but now—dammit!

“I guess so,” Roland whispered, barely able to breathe past the lump in his throat. He looked down to the lights in his hand, already starting to fade from sight, and clenched a fist around them. He’d tried for so long to come to terms with the idea of his death, tried to convince himself for months that if it happened while keeping the others safe, he would be alright with meeting his end. But now that it was actually happening, he couldn’t accept it. He didn’t want to accept it—he wasn’t ready to accept it! He drew his fist to his heart, cradling the last remnants of the bond close. If he listened hard enough, he could still hear their voices. “…I guess…we were overdue an ending.”

His thoughts turned to Evermore, the rolling hills of gold that had become his home in so short a time. The city streets, Bracken’s plans for the new power system once the spring thaws rolled around, Aranella’s sudden fan club and list of would-be students as long as her arm. Batu’s easy-going game of poker with the Generals, Tani’s games of hide and go seek with the youngest Greenlings, Lofty’s constant attempts at raiding the kitchens when Floyd had turned his back, and how he and the Higgledies had been chased screeching through the halls by an angry Grimalkin chef for stealing his latest pie. The ink that had stained Leander’s hands for almost a week as they had worked tirelessly on documents, building the nation up one treatise at a time.

Evan, with his never-failing hope for a better world, and enough courage to face down the worst the world had to throw at him and still come out smiling. He really was an inspiration.

Roland missed them terribly already.

“Hmm. Perhaps we are. Perhaps—” Doloran stopped. His voice grew soft, confused. “Roland?”

Roland shook his head, a sob bubbling up his throat. He curled around his hands, legs threatening to buckle as he strained to hold it together. Everyone would be fine, he told himself. They would be heartbroken now, here at the end of their struggles, but they had one another. They would look after one another in his absence, he was sure of it, but he…he would never get to see them again, and knowing that drove a knife into his heart. Just breathing around it hurt.

“I just—” He choked on the words, control slipping out of his grasp. He forced himself to breathe, dragging in heaving gasps. “I didn’t want to—I wasn’t ready to—”

He couldn’t finish. A sob burst out of his throat before he could rein it back in, a dozen more threatening to follow. They sat heavy in his throat, his heart an aching, cracked thing sitting in his middle somewhere as he struggled to even out his breathing. A warm hand came down on his shoulder.

“It is very rare that anyone is ready,” Doloran said gently, “But you needn’t be yet. It is not your time.”

Roland looked up. Doloran’s face was blurry through his tears. “What?”

Rather than answer him Doloran reached over, prying Roland’s hand from his chest. He held it in the palm of his hand, huffing quietly. The thin strands of light flickered, wavering in the puff of air, before they straightened themselves out and twisted past his shoulder once more.

“You have a wonderful family, Roland, and a clever one at that. To bind your souls together…there is little that could stand in the face of that.” He smiled tiredly. “Not even the Horned One. They seem to be in no hurry to let you go.”

Hope blossomed in the spaces between his ribs. Heart racing, he stared up at his Soul Mate.

“I can go back.”

“You can. But—” He tightened his grip on Roland’s hand, holding him in place as he started to turn around. “Not yet. There is something that must be done first.”

Roland made a wordless sound of confusion. Doloran chuffed quietly, raising his free hand to his chest and closing his eyes.

“A soul was never meant to live on with only one half of itself,” He said softly, “There is a reason that no new Soul Mates came to be after the age of magic had ended. It is time for such things to come to their rightful end.”

Lifting his hand from his chest, Doloran pulled a sphere of light out into his free palm. Roland stared at it, watching twists of navy blue push and pull with green and glittering gold in unending swirls and spirals, hovering just above his palm. Was this—that was a Soul! And not just one, either. Both of theirs. Both Doloran’s, and the piece of Roland’s that he had taken.

“You and I were the last,” Doloran said, “This ends with us.”

He curled his fingers, a tiny flicker of magic slipping in between the twists of color. Roland watched as the Soul split into two. One half, completely navy in color, shifted to the side to hang just above Roland’s hand still held in Doloran’s. The other green and gold half remained in Doloran’s hand, colors quietly twisting away. Roland lifted his eyes from the Souls, now split apart.

“You just severed the Bond. Why would you…”

“Such things are no longer meant to exist,” he explained, “The age of such things ended long ago. It, and I, are as much relics as Mornstar. It is time that we let the tide of history sweep us aside.”

“Doloran…”

“You needn’t be concerned.” He continued, pressing green and gold back into his own chest. The warm familiarity that had clung to Roland’s shoulders was fading now, draining away. “Your life is your own once more. Or perhaps…” He chuckled softly. “Perhaps not entirely. Here.”

With a soft motion, he raised Roland’s hand and pressed it to his chest. His soul fluttered against the fabric of his coat.

“I return to you what is rightfully yours,” he said, “With my deepest apologies that it was ever taken at all.”

As easily as it had come out, the half of his soul slipped back in. Roland took a deep, deep breath, the lingering ache in his heart fading away to nothing. He hadn’t really noticed it before, but having this piece of him back…it felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He could breathe again. The threads of light grew just a little bit stronger, just a little bit less likely to break. He closed his eyes, reaching out—there. He could hear them again!

He wasn’t fading any longer.

“Thank you.” He opened his eyes to find that Doloran had stepped back. “I…”

Doloran shook his head. They shared a wordless look before the once-King gestured with his chin to some spot over Roland’s shoulder.

“Follow the light,” He said, “It will lead you home. The rest will be up to you then.”

Roland frowned, searching his mirror image. He was far too calm, far too collected, for this to be anything other than a goodbye. His eyes narrowed.

“You’re staying here.”

“Hardly.” Doloran snorted. “You and I walk different paths, Roland Crane. You will return to your family, and I will do as I should have done three thousand years ago.” He closed his eyes. “It is time that I let go. My nation is gone, my people lost.”

“Doloran—”

“I am old, Roland. I have seen nations rise and fall and rise again. I have watched countless lives begin and end, and I have seen a boy king do what even my father could not.” A soft smile curved across his face. “The world has no need of me, or of Allegoria. My time has passed. Now, I will go and join my beloved once more.”

Anger surged up Roland’s spine, a white hot burst that he had to stomp on before it could explode out of his mouth. He took a deep breath.

“Are you sure?” He asked. “Is that what you really want?”

“What I want,” Doloran said, “Is to be with my Alisa again. It is all I have ever wanted. Perhaps this is the way that things were always meant to be.”

Okay. Okay, that did it.

“Okay. Now I know you’ve completely lost your mind.”

Doloran startled. “I…I beg your pardon?”

“Your plans don’t work you, you don’t get what you want while you’re alive, so you decide to just die instead? Walk off into the sunset without ever having to face the consequences?” He snorted. “I don’t think so.”

“Roland—”

“No.” Roland interrupted firmly. “You don’t get to do that. I get it—” He raised his hand, keeping Doloran from interrupting him, “You don’t know how to live without her. Maybe you’re not sure you even can, but that doesn’t mean you get to just up and die now!”

“What would you have me do, then?” Doloran raised his voice, “Live with the consequences? I would gladly do so if there was anything I could do to repair the damage I have caused! But there is nothing—” He slashed a hand through the air, “Nothing that I can do that will ever make up for my mistakes! What right do I have to a second chance after all I have done?!”

“It’s not about rights!” Roland shouted, his voice fading out into the white. He took a deep breath and said more calmly, “I’ve asked myself that question a hundred times this past year. Why did I live when everyone else died? Why didn’t I die with my family? And you know what?” He shook his head. “I still don’t have any real answers. Maybe I’ll never have them. Maybe there just aren’t any answers.”

Maybe there never had been. It would have been nice to have the answers, but life wasn’t about being nice, or easy. It was about facing whatever it threw at you and finding a way anyway. He shook his head.

“But that’s life, too,” He went on, “And our job, the only job we have, is to live. Even when it’s not easy, even when we’ve lost everything, we have to get on with it.” He narrowed his eyes. “We’re alive, Doloran. And if we don’t live, then everyone who we’ve lost, everyone who’s died, will have died in vain. Including Alisandra.”

“I…”

“I won’t lie to you,” Roland said softly, expression softening, “It’s not going to be easy. There’s going to be days where you won’t even want to get out of bed, forget actually living. There’s going to be days when you can’t figure out why the hell you’re still alive, and that’s. That’s a part of it, too.” He met Doloran’s eyes, and seeing that he wasn’t entirely convinced asked, “Let me ask you something: what would Alisandra want for you?”

Doloran looked up to some spot above Roland’s head, searching the endless white. If he saw something up there or not, Roland couldn’t tell, but his eyes grew dark with sadness.

“…She would want me to live on,” Doloran said quietly, “but…I do not know how. How do I live without her?”

“One day at a time,” Roland replied gently, “One step at a time, if you have to. And you don’t have to face it alone.”

Stepping back, he extended his hand towards Doloran.

“You don’t have to face any of it alone.” He smiled softly. “We can figure it out together.”

Doloran stared at him, at his hand, for a long few seconds. When Roland didn’t retract his hand, he slowly reached forward.

“You sound like Tildrum,” he said, the barest hint of amusement in his voice. His hand was warm as he clasped it with Roland’s “Who taught who, I wonder.”

Roland smiled proudly. “He’s been a good teacher.”

Between one blink and the next, the white vanished. When Roland opened his eyes, the two of them were standing on top of a tall hill, the sky painted in a rich, deep blue. Stars glimmered in the sky like diamonds, warring with the light of a twisting aurora. The cold sea wind tugged at his hair and coat-tails as it rushed through the thick green grass all around them.

He knew this place. Nazcaa, the former island home of Allegoria, and the former seat of King Ferdinand, the Great Uniter. It was empty of all civilization now, the wide plains and rolling hills dotted with wildflowers and scattered ruins. Stone columns covered in moss, the remnants of foundations and���

The Cradle. Roland turned around, looking up at the golden dome that had once been shielded within the depths of the palace. Time had taken its toll on the once gleaming exterior, the gold worn away by the years. Moss and ivy climbed up one side of the near spherical building, leaves swaying in the wind. Doloran stared up at the broken doors.

“Do you think another Kingmaker will come here?” Roland asked quietly, “To make a new Kingdom?”

“Perhaps.” Doloran said, “Or perhaps not. That is for the magic of the world to decide, in its own time.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Perhaps it would be better to leave this all in the past where it belongs.”

“Maybe. But, whatever you decide,” Roland tilted his head, “Don’t let the past drag you down. It’s okay to leave it behind and start over.” Though he was one to talk. He snorted quietly and closed his eyes. “Moving on doesn’t have to mean forgetting.”

“No.” Doloran agreed. “I suppose it does not.”

Any reply Roland was going to give him was lost to the wind, and to the voices it carried with it.

“Roland!”

Evan. His voice was hoarse, desperate. Roland quickly turned around, walking to the edge of the hill. Down in the valley below, Leander’s pale violet mage lights were twisting and twining around the group, casting odd shadows across their bowed shoulders. He couldn’t see their faces from where he stood, but he didn’t need to. The bone deep sadness and grief that stole his breath away through the bond told him enough. Just as he had thought himself dead, they were so sure that he was gone. He couldn’t leave them like that! Without bothering to look back, he took off down the hillside.

In the rush down, he didn’t see who saw him first. Maybe it was Tani’s sharp eyes that spotted movement, or Evan’s sharper hearing that heard the sound of his footsteps. Maybe it was Aranella’s constant awareness of her surroundings, or Leander’s ability to sense him through magic. Whoever it was, someone still spotted him headed towards them. A great jubilant cry rang across the island.

“Roland!”

The bond sang, the discordant note of sorrow shifting to a high, clear note of relief and joy as they all came charging towards him. He’d barely reached the bottom of the hill and opened his arms before they were on him, the kids crashing into him and knocking him back onto his rear end. They all went down in the grass and wildflowers, and there were too many hands to keep track of, too many warm bodies surrounding him on all sides as he was swept up into the middle of the huddle, everyone grabbing onto anything that they could as they held him close. They were all laughing, crying tears of relief. Batu pressed a whiskery kiss into the crown of his head, laughing so hard Roland was sure he was about to break a rib.

“Roland, ye rotten dog!” the big man shouted, “Ye scared us all half-gray, curse ye!”

“I told you—” Bracken got out between relieved sobs, “Gray’s not my color!”

He tried to apologize, but the words wouldn’t come. They were lost, both to his own relief coursing through him, and the high notes of everyone else’s joy, relief, and love that sang through the bond between them. Despite the chill of the winter evening, there wasn’t an inch of him that wasn’t warm either from within or without.

It was all too much at once. The last fraying thread of his control, the last little bit of it he’d barely managed to keep, snapped. He didn’t try to fight it this time.

This time, he let it break. There was no need to hold back any longer, and when the tears came this time, he let them fall. Relief at being safely home and grief for all that had been lost intertwined, the sheer force of them shaking him to his core. They might have shaken him to pieces had the others not been there, tightening their grips and refusing to let him go.

For a while, the rest of the world ceased to matter. For a while, it was just them in the grass and the cold winter’s night, the stars silent witnesses to their triumphant success.

Then slowly, as if no one really wanted to, they disentangled from one another just enough to be able to sit back and see each other. Not that they really could; it took a few swipes across his eyes to get the tears to clear so he actually could see in the dark. Leander’s Magelights twined around them, casting their faces into lilac and lavender shadows.

“Oh,” Aranella shook her head, swiping at the tear stains on her face with the back of her hand, “Look at us! We’re all a right mess, aren’t we?”

It was an understatement. They were all scraped and bruised and battered, clothes torn and hair all messed up. One of Tani’s braids had come loose, the poof on its end hanging loose at her shoulder. Batu’s bandanna had gone missing, as had Bracken’s goggles, but they were all breathing. There were no obvious injuries beyond the scrapes. Though he thought he’d for sure run out of tears by now, Roland’s eyes welled up all over again.

“You’re all…” He shook his head, “You’re all alright?”

“We’re fine,” Evan said, though there was a scrape on his cheek and one ear had a notch in the tip, “Nothing that won’t heal. But you…”

“You disappeared,” Leander said, his hand on Roland’s arm. He tightened his grip, “You and Doloran both vanished after he called the Horned One. None of us could feel you and there was no time to search. We thought…” His hand trembled. “We thought that…”

“We thought you were dead!” Tani wailed, throwing herself forward again. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and didn’t try to dislodge her. Batu’s hand settled warm and heavy on his shoulder. He turned around.

“What happened, Roland? Where’d the Darkness take ye?”

Roland shook his head. They’d all been through enough today without knowing that it had actually killed him, and he didn’t want to talk about how close they’d actually come to failure. He sighed quietly.

“Some place between worlds, I think. Doloran was there, too. He said…The Horned One dying sent us both there.” He looked up. “You all took it out, didn’t you?”

“We did.” Bracken said. She had to wipe away a fresh round of tears as she said, “Evan took it out with another Mornstar and Lofty brought us home, but you were still gone so we thought…we thought…”

She hiccuped, shaking her head. Tani tightened her grip on Roland and refused to let go. Evan frowned.

“You said that…Doloran was there with you?” He asked, and when Roland nodded, his frown deepened. “Then…where is he now?”

Roland turned around, looking back up to the top of the hill he’d come down from only to find it empty. He scanned the horizon, but only rubble stood out against the stars. Maybe if their Bond had remained he could have felt where his former Soul Mate had gone, but without it there was no way to tell where he was. He could have been anywhere in the world by now.

Roland hoped that, wherever he’d gone, he would find some measure of peace.

“I have no idea,” He said honestly, “But something tells me we haven’t seen the last of him yet.”

“I just hope he doesn’t do anything reckless,” Evan said quietly. “We’ve had enough trouble to last us a lifetime, and I.” He swallowed hard. “I couldn’t bear it if…”

He couldn’t finish. He didn’t need to finish. Roland opened his free arm and Evan charged in, holding on for dear life. His shoulders shook, both with a fresh round of sobs and with his relief. Roland shook his head, closing his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Evan. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He cracked an eye open. “Any of you.”

Lofty just gave a great big harrumph, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Scared a good fifty years offa my life, you did,” the Kingmaker complained. “Do that ‘gain and youell regret it!”

“Hig pig higgle!” The four higgledies crowed in unison. It may have been the only time Roland had ever heard them all agree on the same thing. Definitely one for the record books.

“Hold on—” Bracken interrupted, “Roland’s back, and the Horned One’s deader than a doorknob. That means that—that he’s not being held up by the Horned One’s magic anymore, right?” She looked to Leander. “Does that mean the spell worked?”

“As near as I can tell?” Leander’s smile wobbled, but his eyes were bright. “Yes. The spell worked.” He turned to Roland and smiled. “You are here to stay.”

He was. He was alive. Roland closed his eye as everyone closed in around him once more.

“Yeah,” He said, “I’m home.”

[theretirementstory]

Bonjour et bienvenue. It is the last Sunday in June (where has that time gone?) here in Bar-sur-Aube we have 25c and are expecting 32c around 5pm this afternoon 😳.

So I have tried to have as normal a week as possible but there is always something that throws a spanner in the works. The nurse arrived on Monday to clean and re-dress my PICC line. Unfortunately, she had problems and I was told I would need to go to the hospital, they would ring and let me know when. It was agreed for the following day at 3pm, I rang and booked the taxi for 2pm, feeling rather proud of myself. Tuesday at 2pm no sign of taxi! I rang up and was told don’t worry it will arrive. At 2:15 I got a call asking where I was? Well I was at my home waiting for the taxi, there was lots of huffing and puffing and I was told a taxi would arrive. At 2:25 a taxi did arrive, it is normally an hours journey but somehow she got me there for 3:15 ( I had phoned to say I would be late), anyway, they were waiting for me and I had the line cleaned in less than 5 minutes🙄. Great I thought, home I go and then I can relax. Taxi driver had other ideas, she had to pick someone up from the rehabilitation centre on the outskirts of town. What beautiful grounds it stood in, all arches, statues and lots of paths in lawned areas. The someone, turned out to be two people and it was 4:40 when we were setting off home. We went on the A5 (toll road ) so I very soon lost my bearings and hadn’t a clue where we were going to end up. Well we arrived at a village 7kms from home and dropped one man off, then we travelled on an amazing country road where a deer pranced into the wooded verge, we climbed and looked down onto fields of champagne vines it was beautiful. We arrived at a village I know, Colombe-le-Sec, dropped the second man off and then returned on a familiar road to drop me off at home just before 6pm! I was pleased to have seen the views, but I was aching from sitting in the car for so long.

I have been emptying my head of all the tasks I have to undertake before the end of July. I drove to the garage to book my car in for a service and it’s MOT, that is 3 July. I then visited the lady at an insurance office in town to confirm I wanted to go ahead with the car insurance with her. I called at Anie’s house, no reply, so I put the cheque I had written into an envelope and put it into her post box. My final job was a visit to the doctors surgery where I made an appointment with a doctor for the following day. My appointment was 4pm and on the day of the appointment I got a call asking if I could visit at 15:15 instead of 16:00. No problem for me, however I was sat there like a ninny (along with other people waiting to see other doctors) only to find that my doctor never even arrived until 15:40 and as I was not the first patient it was nearer 16:00 when I got in to see him! Why oh why do the receptionists do that I ask myself? Anyway I got myself all sorted with that other task so now a lot of stuff and nonsense has been dealt with.

On Friday, I drove up to visit the ladies at my knitting group. I was only going for 15 minutes but I was there between 30-45 minutes. It was so lovely to see them and to find out that I can show my finished articles at the nocturnal market on the 28July.

Todays poem is an excerpt from “A Kingfisher Day” by Alan S Jeeves

“To look above and see the sky

As blue as blue can be.

To stand below and wonder why

The blue is all you see.”

The nurse has been now, and I would like to try and get some grass cut. We can only mow between 10-12 on a Sunday so I had better go outside now and see how much I can do.

I wish you all a bon dimanche.

[wonderlandleighleigh]

“Lenny?”

It’s three in the morning.

It’s three in the morning and he’s been on the road for four weeks, and while he used to like feeling like a traveling salesman of dirty jokes and pointed ideas, it’s lost it’s appeal in a big way.

Because there’s a brownstone in the Village where his wife and four children are sleeping, and he hasn’t stopped thinking about them since he got on that train to Boston four weeks ago. 

And he didn’t actually need this tour. Of course he fucking didn’t, he’s busy enough with producing a documentary and TV spots and raising kids and being married to the funniest women on the planet, he didn’t need something else to do, but he does love playing colleges He’s in Baltimore and it’s his last stop, and once he wraps, he just...

Wants to go the fuck home. 

So he hops the train right after the show instead of waiting til morning, and now he’s in the front hall of that brownstone in the Village, and his wife is rushing down the stairs, looking deeply concerned for him.

“What are you doing here? You weren’t supposed to be home til tomorrow?” Midge says, cupping his face, looking into his eyes, trying to read his mind, seemingly. 

“I just...missed everything,” he admits. He’s too tired to be funny or clever. 

Midge huffs out a soft breath and kisses him gently. “The kids are all asleep.” 

“Sokay,” he shrugs. “I’ll get to see ‘em in the morning. I just didn’t wanna spent another night in a hotel.” 

“Was it a bad hotel?” Midge asks. “Bad hotels in Baltimore are the worst hotels.” 

“The hotel was fine,” Lenny assures her. “I just wanted to be home.” 

Midge leads him up the stairs, and he sheds his travel-warn clothes, deciding on a shower before bed, and when he steps out of the bathroom, clean pair of undershorts and undershirt firmly in place, it’s to find all four children awake, and sitting on the bed with Midge. 

He narrows his eyes at them tiredly as he lifts Joshy from Kitty’s arms and lets the two-year-old cuddle in against him. “Okay. What?” 

“Don’t look at me, it’s all them,” Midge claims.

“You usually stay the night after a gig out of town,” Ethan points out. He’s fifteen now, and astute, and Lenny likes it but also he really doesn’t. 

Kitty is always sharp. “Something happened on tour,” she surmises. “What happened on tour, Daddy?” 

“We’re worried there were drugs,” Esther chimes in. She’s eleven, and always honest. Which again...he loves and he doesn’t. 

“There weren’t any drugs,” Lenny assures them. “I didn’t buy any, I didn’t take any. I had a couple drinks after my sets at the clubs, and that’s it.” 

“Did someone slip you a mickey?” Kitty asks.

“You’re fourteen, you don’t know what that is,” Lenny responds quickly. “And no. No one drugged my drink, thank you.” 

“You never come home early, we’re just worried,” Esther says. 

“I told them you just got homesick,” Midge explains sympathetically. “They don’t believe me.” 

“Jesus, we’re raising an entire house of nervous ninnies, how did that happen?” Lenny asks, turning to the little boy in his arms. “Is that you? Are you a nervous ninny? Are you picking up paranoia from your overly concerned siblings?” 

Joshy shakes his head. “No.” 

“No, that’s right, you’re not,” Lenny agrees before turning to the other kids. “Go. To. Bed.” 

“We’re continuing this discussion in the morning,” Ethan orders. 

“Ethan, take the bossy-pants off and go to bed,” Midge orders back, getting up to kiss each of the kids. “Bed. Now. C’mon.” She shoos them out and then turns back to Lenny, who is still holding Joshy. “You could have stayed in Baltimore and missed all this.” 

Lenny shrugs and grins. “Then I never would have heard my daughter use ‘slip you a mickey’ in a sentence accurately, and my life would be much less absurd, and that would be a real shame.” 

Midge grins and kisses him softly. “Go put that cute baby to bed, and then come get some sleep.” 

“Roger that.” 

[sylvie-writes]

It’s Just Me

word count: it’s a headcanon and it’s 12 am so quite frankly i don’t know.

warnings: talks of abusive ex, panic attacks. please do not read this if said topics will upset you.

request:

a/n: this is part 6 of (undetermined) of me trying to finish requests that have been sent in ages ago. (literally this was from christmas as you can see, so im gonna switch it up a bit) IM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT AND QUALITY. it’s been hard to write but hopefully these will do. please ignore any mistakes, again, it’s 12 am.

today you had convinced steve to go shopping for a new wardrobe.

although it was no secret that he was literally a man out of time, you still wanted to dress him fashionably.

tony had made a bet with you the other day that you couldn’t get steve into modern clothes aside from dad-style apparel.

being the competitive person you are, you took on the challenge, putting a nice crips benjamin bill on the line.

steve only agreed because he, too, wanted tony to lose this bet.

yes, the avengers were a bit too competitive, but now is not the time to life coach.

you and steve perused through the racks of clothing in every department store.

it always seemed to be the same though.

you’d send him in with ten hangers and he’d probably only come out with one if you were lucky.

fortunately, one article of clothing here and there was more than enough to compile an outfit for steve.

just as you and steve walked into the footwear store, you recognized an all too familiar face.

the excitement in your body had been instantly replaced with fear.

your ex.

of all places to run into to someone, and of all people too.

your ex who wasn’t just anyone.

they had done unforgettable things to you mentally and it had stuck with you since.

until you met steve, you thought that was love.

but it was quite the opposite.

steve noticed your sudden change in mood and flipped like a light switch into his protective mode.

“(y/n), honey, what’s wrong?”

your breathing was starting to pick up little by little and this point and steve could tell something was truly wrong.

before things escalated, you were able to get the words to escape, “it’s my ex.”

steve had heard all the stories that made him red with anger.

he wanted nothing more to sink his fist straight into your ex’s face after all the things done to you.

you were the love of steve’s life and he couldn’t bear to think that someone would treat such a sweetheart like you so badly.

steve didn’t like bullies and he especially didn’t like this one.

your ex started moving closer and closer as they scanned through the aisles.

luckily they hadn’t seen you until you peeped out a few noises of fear.

tears were steaming down your face and your body was shaking.

this all happened as steve was about to march on over and wail this ninny straight into the ground, but the second he heard your sniffles, he immediately softened.

steve went forward to embrace you, but you flinched.

“my darling, it’s just me. it’s just steve.”

you looked up and he placed his hands on your face to calm you, ignoring the audience.

the audience unfortunately included the knucklehead that was your ex as they smirked upon seeing your reaction and knowing they were the cause.

steve had a few choice words he wanted to use towards the perpetrator, but he knew better than to inflate the situation.

it would be like adding gasoline to a fire and steve wasn’t looking for another explosion.

just when you were finally calmed down, your ex had to open their mouth.

“dramatic bitch as always. if i were you, i’d leave her sorry ass.”

steve couldn’t take it anymore.

he gently sat you down on the bench for trying on shoes and civilly walked on over to the ex.

he looked terrifyingly calm like the eye of a category 5 hurricane.

“you know what? (y/n) isn’t dramatic, she’s an outstanding woman, especially after all the shit you but her through.”

seeing as your ex wasn’t going to listen and take what would have been the easy way out, steve decided to open the gate to the high road.

by this, i mean that steve was about to full on uppercut punch this disgrace of a human’s jaw.

your ex was about to make a remark about how steve’s little heartfelt statement didn’t mean anything to anyone, but it wasn’t even begun as steve’s fist connected with their chin.

you watched in shock as your golden retriever of a boyfriend just turned into cujo in a matter of seconds.

“that’s for everything you’ve ever done my girlfriend. don’t you ever mess with her again.”

with that steve walked away and towards you.

he offered his hand to help you up from the bench and the two of you walked out.

you were able to be content knowing that steve would always have your back.

[sooibian]

Nia! A game for you! Which one of the Exos would you ship with your mutuals and why?

thanks for this, anon! i needed the distraction 💗 

i tried not to pair my mutuals with their biases but...idk if i did this right haha anywayyy let's go!

Minseok:

@sooghostwriter: melissa is strong, determined, and unapologetically honest. i see her with someone who is equally strong, and secure with himself and is at the same time dorky and fun. i can see the two of them bonding over skincare too *heart eyes*

@kyoonqs: everything about flor is pretty. she’s got a beautiful, creative mind and a soft heart and she has a keen eye for aesthetics and detail. i see minseok and flor - this is very specific haha - coming together to collaborate on a project which turns out to be a process of self-discovery and they eventually end up falling in love with each other.

Junmyeon:

@vampwrrr: i just want someone to take care of this bebe like she deserves to be taken care of. in a precious, gentle, and loving way. it will be a quiet kind of love but i can count on jun to whisk you away to exotic locations every now and then...and bring you breakfast in bed. he’s the kind to listen and understand and he’ll make sure to never make you feel alone and to always make you feel secure. i can’t stress on this enough i just want someone to love and cherish piper forever and i think jun is that understanding and steady partner.

@mel-loves-kdramas: i’ll keep this simple. mel and junmyeon are a match made in heaven. mel is loving, gentle, understanding, and kind. exactly the kind of partner junmyeon needs.

Yixing:

hardworking. passionate. artistic. ambitious. my three friends @kyungseokie @xui-n-soowillbethedeathofme and @diveinthebluewithyou are the embodiment of these qualities which i feel is the kind of energy that yixing would be attracted to. it would be an everlasting and healthy relationship in which both the parties involved support the others dreams and aspirations but at the same time they do not lose their sense of self. power couple vibes maybe?

Baekhyun:

@j-pping: jae is intuitive, intelligent, level-headed, and strong-willed. at the same time she’s fun and a positive person who makes everyone feel comfortable and welcome. with these qualities i think she’d get along really well with baekhyun. i see their relationship progress in a friends to lovers kinda way.

@royal-aeris: aeris! my fellow pisces friend! i think you're witty and hilarious! but you're also sensitive and very much in touch with your emotions. i think baekhyun is the kind of person to understand that kind of emotional depth as well as complement the fun side of your personality beautifully.

@his-mochi-cheeks: my dearest dearest ari deserves someone who isn’t shy with their expression of love and baekhyun is exactly the man for her. he’s someone who is intuitive, strong, and protective. he also possesses a natural ability of making people feel better and understood. ari deserves this fun kind of love!

Chanyeol:

@littleflowercrown13: melissa is endearingly awkward and shy but at the same time she seems like someone who's strong-willed and level-headed. i think melissa and chanyeol would help balance out each other's energies in an opposites attract kinda way. it will be a fun but a meaningful relationship in which they complete each other!

@jenmyeons: moa your tags never fail to crack me up. when i think you and chanyeol i think idiots in love haha. childhood friends who’ve always been together drift apart in their uni days only to find their way back to each other again <3

@lovelysehunie: ninni is a biiiig animal and nature lover. she’s also the kind of person who is deeply passionate about her interests. maybe chanyeol and ninni bond over something they’re both enthusiastic about and as they say...the rest is history.

Kyungsoo:

@rosetvler: rose you’re a feisty go-getter. you are witty and hilarious but you also have major indoors-y energy. i see kyungsoo and you as the kind of couple to cancel plans with friends just cuz y’all are too bored and lazy to step out of the house. maybe he’ll cook for you and you can watch a movie together before drifting off to sleep in the comfort of his arms ;-;

@leewalberg: unnie, you and i are so similar in so many ways. you’re hilarious!!! laidback and easy to get along with and this is the ...sort of uncomplicated (??) nature that kyungsoo could possibly gravitate towards? he also seems like a no-fuss dude so i see this as a smooth sailing, rock-steady relationship.

Jongin:

@baekberrie: in my limited interaction with you i thought you are a really, really sweet, soft, kind, and a friendly person. also, my dear, your blog theme is so comforting and beautiful!! i’m thinking first date at the amusement park..both of you in comfortable clothing... neutral/pastel tones..shy giggles...hand holding...sweet treats..sugar rush...soft kisses.

@xiusoomygod: dee you’re so so so soooo adorable and cute and bubbly and creative!!! i can see nini (specifically dressed in his gucci bear collection) getting attracted to these aspects of your personality. it’ll be a soft romance in which you guys bond over make up.. and fashion too! maybe even create your own brand in the long run!

@ninibears-erigom: i’ll keep this plain and simple, i just don't see ayla with anyone other than nini i'm sorry i tried but, again, this one is a match made in heaven!!!!

Sehun:

@thedeviousdo​ stephanie is intelligent and someone with strong opinions at the same time she’s non-judgemental and is willing to consider ideas that are new and different. these are the things that i believe would bring sehun and steph closer to each other. conversations leading to platonic affections will soon pave way for “the romantiques” in this relationship !!!!

i am a sucker for the enemies to lovers trope lololol *grabs popcorn* the trajectory of both my neo brained bebes @changshapatrol and @is-that-baekhyuns-shirt falling for sehun looks something like this: denial, guilt, anger, sadness, acceptance :P

get ready ahead of time to go out are you ready? i’m gonna rule the city today and bring the sparks. you’re already out, why are you so shy, my boo. don’t stutter, you don’t have to feel awkward, don’t bring anything, just hold my hand my lady. every road we walk on is a red carpet and a runway. the way you walk is so unique match the speed now, tempo!

also i think their personal styles really complement sehun’s really well? sooo...which stage are we on now, lolo and olivia? :P

[agentofship]

Meddling Ghosts, chapter 1/5

FitzSimmons, rated E, 4234 words (for now) Summary: Fitz and Jemma's autumnal road trip takes an unexpected turn when they arrive at their gorgeous but very much haunted hotel in West Virginia. With four nights to spend there, they'll have ample time to meet the local ghosts and come to realize they have a rather specific goal. I’m very excited to finally start posting this year’s new Spooky fic, hope you’ll enjoy it as much as I enjoy writing it :)  A big thank you to @libbyweasley​ for making my words better as always, to @2minutes2midnight​ for her gorgeous moodboard, as well as to @springmagpies​ and Libby for their very helpful spooky suggestions :)  "Sixty percent off, are you sure it's not too much?"

"Of course it isn't. This is a very fancy hotel and they're so young. We have to be sure they come. When we were their age, we couldn't afford to get a room in such a place."

"Not that anyone would have given us one. Not to me at least. And we are their age."

"Oh you know what I mean. Now send the email before he wakes up. Use the mouse, you ninny! You've always been so terrible with technology!"

"Most of it hadn't been invented when I was alive!"

"Well, it's the same for me but I'm still trying to keep up. And keep your voice down, you'll wake him up."

"Alright, it's done. Now we wait."

"Now we wait."

With a few clicks, the email window was closed and the computer screen went back to displaying the slightly boring autumn landscape as if nothing had just happened. Just like nothing had happened a year ago or the year before that. Outside, the wind was howling and in the quiet hotel lobby, the old grandfather clock ticked away the time as the clerk continued to snore peacefully, unaware of the rather unusual activity that had happened right in front of him. It was that time of year again and the hotel's two oldest occupants were planning on taking advantage of it. Continue reading on AO3

[amanda-teaches]

Middle of Nowhere

Summary: You take a road trip with your best friend to get your mind off a broken relationship. Will a man living in the middle of nowhere help you do just that?

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Square filled: Free Space for @spnfluffbingo​, Road Trip for @spndeanbingo​, and “We’re sooo over.” “Fine by me!” for @spnquotebingo​

Word Count: 3753

Warnings: Nothing major. It’s mostly cute, fluffy fun with a little humor thrown in. A little bit of angst and swearing, but I think it’s barely there.

A/N: A while ago, @supernatural-jackles​, was holding these weekly writing challenges with prompts to inspire writers. I saved one of these prompts, even after all this time, and it finally inspired me to write this fic. So thanks, Jen, all these months later, for holding those challenges. They did help! If anyone else is looking for a little inspiration/encouragement, you can find all the weeks here. My prompt was “Hold my hand dammit, we gotta make this look convincing!”

It seemed like the further you got away from civilization, the clearer your mind got, but, even in the outskirts of the middle of nowhere, your mind never seemed to be able to escape him.

“What’cha thinking about?”

You glanced over at your best friend, Becca, who was staring inquisitively at you from across the car’s center console. Shaking your thoughts away, you smiled. “Uh, nothing,” you lied, turning your attention to the long, deserted road in front of you, surrounded on both sides by endless fields of grass. “Just wondering how much longer we have.”

Becca studied you closely for a second before her eyes widened. “Liar! You’re totally thinking about James.”

You blushed and shook your head. “I am not,” you objected, but the shake in your voice betrayed you. “Okay, maybe a little.”

“Y/N,” she sighed, her whole body rising and falling dramatically in a way that was so distinctly Becca, “the whole point of this trip is to get your mind off that...that...that ninny!”

“Ninny?” you smirked, struggling not to laugh.

“Yes, ninny,” she repeated resolutely, ignoring your amusement altogether and plunging on. “Besides, we’ve been over this. Dumping you was his loss. You’re wayyyyy too good for him anyway.”

You groaned. Knowing it was fruitless to argue, you decided to change the subject. “How much longer again, Bec?”

Becca looked down at the gigantic paper map in her lap and unfolded it one more time. “Well, according to this, we just passed a town called...Lawrence, which means that Topeka should be...uh…” She paused, turning the map upside down and her head to the side. “Soon?”

You sighed heavily, rolling your eyes heavenward. “Ugh, I knew we should’ve stayed on the interstate. Becca, we’re lost.”

Becca turned the map over a few more times, her speed becoming more frenzied with each turn. “No we’re not, we’re….” She looked up and let out a sigh. “Yeah, we’re lost.”

“Great,” you groaned, taking one hand off the wheel to pick up your phone. “And, there’s no signal out here. What are we going to do?”

“Just keep driving, I guess,” she said with a shrug. “Wait a second...I think there’s a house up there.”

You looked out the windshield, only just making out the outline of a house in the distance. “So?”

“Sooo, why don’t we stop and ask for directions?”

You let out a chuckle. “Are you serious? You just want to stop at some random stranger’s house in the middle of nowhere, walk up, ring the doorbell, and ask for directions? What if they’re dangerous?”

Becca laughed and shook her head. “Y/N, come on, this isn't the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. It’s fine! Let’s just stop. It’s better than being lost for ten hours, right?”

“Yeah, I guess,” you acquiesced, begrudgingly slowing the car and pulling off onto the dirt off-shoot that led towards the house. As you got closer and the house grew in size, you noticed two men working on the wraparound porch. “Let’s just hope they’re friendly…” you whispered.

--

Dean looked up at the sound of the car driving up, taking in the small white sedan with a frown. “Sammy, look.”

Sam glanced up at his brother out of habit before following his gaze to the car that had just pulled up. Leaving his sandpaper on the ground, he stood up and brushed his hands on his jeans. “You expecting company?”

“Nope,” Dean replied quickly, stepping in front of Sam with his legs spread, his shoulders squared, and his hands in fists at his side. “Who d’you think it is?”

“No idea,” Sam shrugged, stepping forward to join his brother as the car doors flew open. “But, I guess we’re about to find out.”

The two men watched as a 20-something, attractive brunette woman exited the passenger side. She had a wide smile on her face as she turned to look back into the car, talking to someone as she nodded her head. With a laugh, she spun around and began walking towards the porch steps, but Dean’s attention was drawn away from her to the woman stepping out from the driver’s side door.

She was absolutely breathtaking. Her hair was swept up in a messy bun that was somehow gorgeous and effortless all at the same time, and her simple white t-shirt and jeans fit her perfectly, showing off the curves she had in all the right places. “Damn…” he whispered under his breath, quickly closing his eyes and resteeling himself to hide the effect she’d had on him before she got close enough to notice.

Her friend got there first, bounding up the steps, her smile widening as she got a good look at them. “H...hi….” she whispered, stretching out her greeting, her eyes widening with interest at the sight of Sam. “I’m Becca, and this is my friend, Y/N.” She nodded her head back at her friend, who had stopped at the bottom of the steps, crossing her arms over her chest, just like Dean. “We’re on our way to Topeka and we seem to have gotten a little lost. Would you mind telling us the way?”

“Oh, sure,” Sam said, his smile turning easy and welcoming, drawing Becca in, much to Dean’s dismay. As he talked, Dean chose to ignore him, instead dropping his eyes to look down at the woman’s friend. Y/N. Her name was Y/N, and, judging by the glare on her face, she wasn’t the least bit happy to be here.

He liked her already.

“...yeah, so then once you pass the old barn, you’ll hit the interstate. Easy as that.”

“Great, thanks,” Becca said, lingering to stare at Sam. Dean could even swear he saw her eyelashes actually bat. “We realllly appreciate it,” she muttered, placing her hand on his arm with a wide smile.

As Dean began to roll his eyes, Y/N sighed loudly, practically huffing her exasperation, making him stop to crack a smile. He really liked this one.

“Come on, Bec, let’s go,” she pleaded, her eyes meeting Dean’s for the briefest of seconds before she looked away.

Becca’s face fell in disappointment. “Okay, okay!” she agreed, turning around, yelling back over her shoulder as she did. “Thanks again for your help!”

Dean watched Y/N retreat for a second before smiling slowly and speaking up. “You won’t be able to go that way.”

Becca and Y/N stopped in their tracks, spinning at the exact same time. “What?”

“Yeah, what?” Sam asked, turning towards Dean with confusion in his eyes.

Dean unfolded his arms and stepped forward, resting his arms on the railing. “I was just out that way this morning. The road washed out in last night’s storm. It’ll be at least a few days before it’s passable again.”

Y/N stepped forward, her concern at his words overriding her earlier standoffishness. “What do you mean a few days?”

“I mean a few days,” he answered casually, grinning at her. “The road’s underwater right now, so you definitely won’t be able to cross it anytime soon.”

She huffed as Dean chuckled, rolling her eyes at him before turning her head to address Sam. “Is there any other way to Topeka? Maybe back the way we came?”

Sam shook his head, his eyes turning sympathetic. “I’m afraid not. They’re doing construction on the road between Lawrence and Topeka, so it’s closed for the next month. You’d have to go the long way around, which would take you a full extra day of driving. The washed out road’s the only direct way.”

“Great…” she muttered, throwing her hands in the air as she turned to Becca. “What are we going to do now?”

She shrugged. “I guess we’ll have to head back to Lawrence and find a place to stay for the night.”

“You can stay here,” Sam volunteered, making everyone look his way in shock.

“What?!” Y/N stammered, at the exact same time Becca cried out, “We’d love too!”

In this case, Dean was firmly on Y/N’s side. He stepped over to his brother and grabbed his arm, turning his back to the women and dropping his voice so only Sam could hear. “Dude, what’re you doing?”

Sam shrugged. “They need a place to stay.”

“Yeah, they can stay in town. Just because you’re hot for the brunette…”

“Hey,” Sam objected. “I am not! They just need a place to stay.”

“Yeah, sure, Romeo,” Dean said, stepping away with a resigned shake of his head. “Let’s just turn our house into a quaint little B’n’B.”

Sam ignored him and moved down the stairs. “You’re more than welcome to stay here. It’ll be nicer than any motel you’ll find in Lawrence.”

Becca beamed and nodded quickly. “That’d be great! You’re so sweet to offe...”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Y/N interjected, pulling her friend back. She walked her back a few feet, away from Sam, and dropped her voice. Luckily, it wasn’t low enough that Dean couldn’t hear what she was saying.

“Becca, you can’t be serious!”

“What?”

“We’re not really staying here!”

“Why not? Sam said it’d be nicer than any motel.”

“Yeah, sure, that’s what they all say…How do you know they’re not murderers?”

Dean smiled at that, unable to resist messing with her. “For the record, we’re not murderers.”

She paused to glare at him before turning back to Becca. “That’s exactly what a murderer would say.”

“Okay,” Sam said, stepping forward to interrupt the girls. “I promise we’re not murderers.”

Dean’s grin widened. “Wait, a second, how do you know motel owners aren’t murderers?”

Y/N whipped her head around so fast, he nearly got whiplash. “Oh, shut up,” she muttered, but he just laughed and winked, making her roll her eyes for the upteenth time.

Sam reached his hand out, playing the role of peacemaker. “Y/N, please stay. It’s a five bedroom house, we’ve got plenty of room, and I promise it won’t be that bad.”

Becca shot Y/N her best begging eyes. “Please? It’s only for one night.”

Y/N looked back and forth between the three of them before groaning. “Fine, ONE night, but I swear if we get murdered, I’m so haunting all of you.”

--

One night somehow ended up turning into five.

Sam and Becca quickly bonded, with Becca making every excuse in the book to stay and play house with him. You’d tried to convince her to leave, given that the whole point of this trip to Toledo was to distract you, but you didn’t really have the heart to make a big fuss, especially seeing how happy she was around Sam, so you stayed.

But, it wasn’t quite what you expected from your vacation. With Becca being all starry-eyed over Sam, that left you spending an awful lot of time with Dean. Less than a week ago, you would’ve thought that was the worst thing in the world, but it turned out to be the exact opposite.

He was weirdly funny, insanely silly, and surprisingly...caring. The first night, you’d been determined to avoid him, thinking the stay was only temporary, but once Becca had run off with Sam, you hadn’t been left much of a choice. And, Dean, Dean was fun. You laughed when you were with him, whether that was grilling burgers in the backyard, helping him paint the porch while he dramatically pretended to fall off of it, or spending the evenings curled up by the fireplace with him, listening to the deepest tracks of Zeppelin.

You tried not to read too much into it, the way you felt around him, relaxed and carefree and just so completely unlike how you’d been feeling for the last few months with James. Maybe it was a good thing he’d dumped you. Maybe, just maybe, a guy like Dean was exactly what you…

“Y/N?”

You shook yourself out of your reverie, glancing up to see Dean staring back at you. He was bent under the hood of your car, his face streaked with oil, looking up at you like you’d lost your mind. “Uh, you ok? You kinda went to a whole different place there.”

“Oh, yeah,” you nodded, looking down at the floor and crossing your arms over your chest. “Just tired, I guess. How’s it coming along?” you asked, eager for a change of topic.

He regarded you for just a beat longer, uncertainty clouding his eyes, before he looked back at the car, choosing to move on like you wanted. “Um, pretty good, actually. I’m just about done.”

He straightened up, wiping his hands on his jeans, and grinned at you. “You know, you should’ve had your oil changed a long time ago. It was like a river of sludge in there. I’m surprised I didn’t drown.”

“Ha ha, you dork,” you laughed, playfully hitting him on the arm. “Besides, not all of us treat our cars better than people like you do.”

“Hey, Baby’s not just any car,” he corrected, feigning offense. “She’s a classic.”

“Mhmm,” you chuckled. “Whatever you say.”

You turned to walk away, but Dean ran to catch up with you, moving in front of you so he was walking backward. “Actually, I was just on my way to wash her. Want to help?”

You stopped walking and looked up into his eyes, thinking about it for a second. On one hand, you knew that the more time you spent with Dean, the harder it would be to leave, but, on the other hand, you couldn’t bring yourself to say no to him. “Sure, I’d love to.”

“Great,” he said, his whole face lighting up. He took your hand and pulled you along, and you couldn’t help the blush that sprinkled across your face. He led you around the house and straight into the back garage, where his black ‘67 Impala was waiting. “There she is!” he announced proudly, spreading his arms out wide. “Isn’t she gorgeous?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, running your hand across the hood. “She’s beautiful, Dean.”

He studied you for a second, a small smile gracing his face. When your eyes met with his, he frowned and looked away, busying himself with something near his shoe. “Oh, okay, then. Let’s get started.”

He turned to the shelves lining the far wall and grabbed a bucket and some sponges, moving to fill it with water from the nearby hose. Once it was full, he added some soap and handed one of the wet sponges to you. “You take the left, I’ll take the right?”

“Deal,” you agreed, walking over to the left side of the car. You started sliding the sponge back and forth and smiled over the hood of the car at Dean. “So, when did you get this car?”

“A while ago. It was my dad’s. He left it to me just before he died.”

Your face fell. “Oh, Dean, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s cool,” he said, continuing to stare at his sponge instead of making eye contact. “It was a long time ago.”

You watched as he moved his sponge slowly from side to side, lost in thought. You mirrored his actions for a minute, focusing on your side of the car before you stopped. With your attention on the sponge, you formulated a plan, grinning and looking back up at Dean. “Hey, Dean?”

“Yeah?” he asked, but, the second he looked up, a large splash of water hit him in the face, courtesy of the sponge you were still holding in your hand. “Oh, you didn’t…”

“I did,” you nodded, grinning widely as you watched him wipe the soap away from his face.

“Well, you know what that means?” he asked devilishly, raising his own sponge while you shook your head frantically and started backing away. “This is war!”

His last word was raised in an enthusiastic shout, and he took off running towards you, his sponge held out like a weapon. You squealed and spun away, racing out of the garage and back around to the front of the house, but he was faster, easily overtaking you and catching you around the waist, lifting you up into the air. You struggled, laughing as he moved the sponge all over your face and shoulders, soaking you. “Truce, truce!”

His hot breath hit your ear, his hold not lessening. “Promise?”

“I promise!” you laughed, exhaling as he placed you on the ground, spinning you around so that you were facing him, standing chest to chest. You were both soaked and breathing heavily, but that didn’t stop your heart from racing when you realized how close you were. “Dean…”

“Yeah?” he asked, brushing his knuckles down the side of your face, his hand stopping to linger on your neck, playing with the strands of hair that were resting there. You stared up into his eyes and momentarily forgot how to breathe.

“I want…” Your attention was drawn by movement beyond Dean’s shoulder and you raised onto your tiptoes, instantly recognizing the approaching car as it drew closer. “To kill him, oh my God!”

“Me, too...wait, what?” Dean blinked, totally lost, but you ignored him, pushing past him to look at the car.

“I can’t believe he’s here! How’d he find me?”

Dean turned, still trying to work out what was happening as he followed your gaze. “Who?”

You groaned. “My ex, James.” You looked back at Dean, an idea forming in your head. “Quick, you have to pretend to be my new boyfriend.”

He grinned at that, his eyes widening. “I have to what?”

“Hurry!” you rushed, grabbing his arm and pulling him with you up onto the porch. “He’ll be here any second.”

You and Dean stepped up onto the porch’s landing just as the car stopped, and you turned around, yanking Dean at the same time so he was anchored next to you.

“Ouch,” he joked.

“Stop it, he’s coming!”

He smiled and leaned down, dropping his voice to a whisper. “I thought I was a murderer.”

“Shut up,” you shushed him, your eyes falling to his hand. “Hold my hand, dammit, we gotta make this look convincing!”

He chuckled but grabbed your hand anyway. Pulling you in front of him, he transferred your hand to his other one, wrapping both of his arms around you so you were leaning against his chest. Good, he was really selling it, you thought, resisting the sudden urge to breathe him in. Damn intoxicating man scent.

James was nearly to you now, his expression turning into a glare when he saw who you were with. “Y/N, who’s this?”

“None of your business, James. How’d you find me?”

“I still have your find my phone linked,” he said, holding up his iPhone. “Seriously, who the hell is this?”

You frowned, finding the anger you had stored inside. Stepping away from Dean, you confronted him head on. “He’s my new boyfriend, not that it matters. You dumped me, James. I don’t owe you any explanation.”

He pasted a smile on, but you could see the insincerity behind it. Standing in front of a man like Dean, you wondered what you ever could have seen in a man like James. “Y/N, I still love you.”

“Tough,” you snapped. “We’re over. Now, leave and never contact me again.”

He stepped forward. “Y/N…”

“She told you to leave,” Dean said, moving in front of you, his whole demeanor hardening. He crossed his arms across his chest, and, although you couldn’t see his face, you knew his expression must have been more than a little terrifying, based on James’ reaction. You were glad he was on your side.

“I just want to talk to her.”

“Nuh uh,” he growled. “You’re done here. Like she said, she’s with me now.”

James looked at the two of you, suspicion growing. “That doesn’t sound like the Y/N I know, moving on with some creep in the middle of nowhere so fast. I doubt you two are really a thing. Y/N, please, just drop this whole charade and let me explain.”

Dean chuckled, looking back at you. “You hear that? He doesn’t think we’re really together.”

“Yeah, I don’t,” James said, resolutely. “I know Y/N.”

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do,” you shouted before you grabbed Dean’s shirt and spun him around, pulling him in for a kiss.

He was surprised at first, you could tell, but he recovered quickly, his lips pushing back against yours with just as much fervor. He moved his hand down to your hip, drawing you closer to him with a growl, and you felt a shock of heat run straight through you. By the time he pulled back, you were breathless. Your hands were tangled in his hair, but you had absolutely no idea how they’d gotten there. Frankly, you didn’t care. All you wanted to do was kiss him again.

You completely forgot you had an audience until James cleared his throat. “Well, I guess you really are together. We’re sooo over.”

Not even taking your eyes off of Dean’s, you smiled, responding freely for the first time in a long time. “Fine by me! Bye, James.”

You heard him get back in his car, but it didn’t even faze you, your full attention on the grin spreading across Dean’s face. You laughed and tightened your grip in his hair. “So…” 

“So,” he repeated, trailing his hand lazily up and down the side of your torso, “I guess this means I can’t murder you now, huh?”

You shook your head, laughing even harder. “Wow, you really are such a dork. I can’t believe...” But, he captured your lips before you could finish, kissing you long and slow, lingering like he never wanted to pull away.

“Oh my God, I knew it!”

You drew your head back, turning to find Becca and Sam standing in the doorway. Becca was smiling and practically jumping up and down, but Sam looked just as happy, taking in the two of you together. “I guess this means you’re staying around a little longer?”

You looked up at Dean, seeing the hopeful excitement in his face, and you nodded, intertwining your fingers with his. “Mhmm. I think I may have found what I was looking for.”

His eyes lit up. “Damn, I hope so,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss you again, audience be damned.

Dean Tags- @akshi8278​ @whimsicalrobots​ @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @adoptdontshoppets​ @alexwinchester23​ @squirrelnotsam​ @deanwinchesterswitch​

Forevers- @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester​ @katymacsupernatural​ @impandagrl​ @impala-dreamer​ @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes​ @be-amaziing​ @jalove-wecallhimdean​ @there-must-be-a-lock​ @mysterious-398​ @hannahindie​ @emoryhemsworth​ @ohmychuckitssamanddean​ @wi-deangirl77​ @carryonmywaywardcaptain​ @ericaprice2008​ @masksandtruths​ @roxyspearing​ @squirrel-moose-winchester​ @sweetpeamoose​ @babypieandwhiskey​ @deans-dirty-writer​ @roxy-davenport​ @heyitscam99​ @spnbaby-67​ @mogaruke​ @atc74​ @dolphincliffs​ @closetspngirl​ @maddiepants​ @pinknerdpanda​ @focusonspn​ @deanwanddamons​ @wonderfulworldofwinchester​

[bravenew-what]

Little Dreamer (Def Leppard AU)

Chapter One: Hop, Skip, and a Jump

Pairing: Joe Elliot x OC

Word Count: 1194

Content Warnings: Language

Special thanks to @anotherhitandrun for being my biggest cheerleader and best friend❤️

Tagging: @white-lightning-625​

Nina shot up out out bed at the sound of her alarm clock taking over the peaceful silence. Early mornings were never something she looked forward to, especially now that the band had to pack and fly out for the road. Waiting for her heart rate to slow down just a little, she rubbed sleep from her eyes and pushed her hair out of her face, sliding out of bed to hop into the shower. She had since moved into a small one bedroom apartment with Eddie and Alex getting her on her feet as they finished their next album, settling into Van Halen's crew of roadies and techs. The turn of the decade meant it was time for changes to their style, and it meant that their  shows were going to get bigger and better.

Stepping into the hot shower, Nina breathed a deep sigh as the water relaxed her muscles almost immediately. She knew she couldn't stay in there long, as she had to be ready to leave as soon as 8 in the morning. Nina hummed a mindless tune that came to her head as she rinsed her hair once through, most of her belongings being packed away. At the sound of her phone ringing, she wildly stumbled out of the shower, throwing a towel around herself and nearly slipping on the vinyl floors of the bathroom in order to reach it. Nina pulled the phone off the hook and leaned onto her nightstand.

"Hello?"

"You awake?" Alex's voice perked Nina up even more.

"I've been awake." Nina chirped, sitting down on her bed.

"Okay good. Our car is coming to get you here soon. Got everything ready?"

"Ready when you are. I have to make sure everything I keep track of made it on the plane and we're set."

"So Dave's five articles of clothing and his guitar."

"And Dave. And everything else."

"That too. See you in a little while, Ninny."

"Bye, Al."

Nina hung up the phone as quickly as she could, drying herself off with the towel she was using. She pulled on a t-shirt, jeans, and converse, something simple enough to get to work, and to get on a plane to New York City for the start of the tour.

—

Nina heard a series of honks from a car horn outside, signaling that her brothers, David, and Michael had arrived at her apartment complex. She smiled to herself and gathered the rest of her needed belongings. With one last glance around the apartment to make sure she was closing up right, she locked the door behind her and made her way to Eddie's car.

"Thar she blows!" David craned himself outside of the window of the backseat, greeting Nina with open arms. She waved back wildly, racing to the car as fast as she could with her suitcase and backpack.

"Pop the trunk!" Nina shouted over the song change, Aerosmith now blasting over the radio. Eddie unlocked the car completely so Nina could swing open the trunk. Before she could do anything else, Eddie sped the car forward seven feet, just out of reach of Nina. Letting out a loud groan, the boys erupted in a chorus of laughter. She rolled her eyes and tossed her belongings into the car, slamming the trunk shut before ripping the car door on David's side open. Without question, she climbed over David and into the middle seat between he and Michael.

"Good morning, Nina!" Eddie welcomed condescendingly.

"Morning to you too." Nina crossed her arms and legs. "Go get this show on the road."

—

"Ready sis?"

Nina popped out from behind the equipment rigs and smiled at Deke, Van Halen's lighting director. "We're about done here!" She roamed around to the bay door and greeted her friend with a warm smile.

"I don't get to ride in style like you." Deke shrugged. "But I'll be out of here before you so I thought I'd check to see you out of this one and into the next."

Nina huffed. "You won't be as cramped though, that's for sure."

Deke cocked his head and stared down at her. "Couple of years, right?"

Nina raised an eyebrow. "Hm?"

"Couple of years until you can go to school?"

Nina nodded. "No one else needs to know right now." She looked up and met his eyes, slight concern falling over her demeanor.

Deke squeezed her shoulder. "I'll see you on the other side."

"Fly safe." Nina pinched his arm before finding her backpack and making her way to the plane the band would be riding in. Because of David insisting so, Nina usually rode with them. She normally wouldn't take advantage of his crush on her, but she enjoyed having more space than not.

As Nina padded down the tarmac to their plane, her vision was limited to almost nothing but the morning sun and her destination. Not even her sunglasses could block out the sunlight enough for her to realize that David was sneaking up next to her.

"GET EXCITED!"

Nina shrieked as a pair of arms wrapped around her and swung her around in a circle. "Jesus, Dave!" Nina squirmed out of his grasp, laughing as she regained composure. "I am excited for you! Just not for the parties so much."

"And why's that?"

"I'm telling you, I love them, but Rush brought a few of the meanest Canadians over the border in their crew!"

"Are you still messed up over that?" David snorted.

"I'm messed up over the fact that my favorite boots still smell like an entire bottle of bourbon!"

The two paraded their way over to the plane, David dragging a now miffed Nina alongside him. Once on the plane, Nina sat down comfortably as David and Michael threw their carry on bags into the compartments above where they would be sitting on the jet. Dave was the first to finish, attempting to step forward to sit next to Nina.

"No." Nina clotheslined David, allowing Michael to slide into the window seat next to her.

"Maybe I wanted to sit there."

"Maybe I'm not sitting next to you on this flight." Nina sat back and adjusted into her spot again as Mike sat down next to her.

"Why?"

"Because Mike actually lets me sleep."

"You always sleep." David whined.

"Not the point!"

David rolled his eyes and slumped into the seat across from them and pouted at Nina, who smiled back innocently and reached into her backpack, pulling out a Stephen King book. Nina sank back in the seat and tried to make herself comfortable, leaning against Michael's shoulder like she had on many flights and bus rides before.

"Hey, Mike?"

He leaned over in acknowledgement. "Hmm?"

"Who's opening for you again?"

"They're called Def Leppard." Michael nodded, remembering correctly. "I know they opened for ACDC last year."

"Oh yeah..." Nina trailed off, staring into space. "Right."