#st pattys day baby

[pugsandfrenchbulldogs]

[a-not-so-sure-artist]

Birthday Post!!!! 🥳🎉🎂

(Featuring my OCs and my concerningly strong incapability of shading/highlighting well 🥲)

Another ver without 96% of the odd green shading:

Thank you all on Tumblr, mutuals, followers and those who just so happened to run into my account for such a great and fun experience here! Nothing really much to say but thank you so much! Stay cool y’all 🧃

(P.s: I would’ve also put a speedpaint with music but my dumbass forgot to record :’)

[ultimatenutshackfangirl]

[emma-is-swaggy-and-epic]

If you think about it: people with green eyes are the most powerful beings when it comes to st. Patrick's day...

Like, you don't even have to wear green.....you're pretty much a walking curse if people pinch you and they don't see your eyes at first...

[henrysglock]

Henry is 7 — Unloved Boys, Killer Parents, and Non-Linear Time.

I'm not sure how many of us out there are up to date on our "media that features Captain Midnight" lore, but tonight I want to talk about Jeffty is Five, a short story by Harlan Ellison, as it relates to Henry Creel circa 1952.

Jeffty Kinzer and his best friend, Donny, were five. They were huge comic book fans, especially of Captain Midnight. But then Jeffty was five, and Donny was seven. After that, Jeffty was five and Donny was fourteen. You see where I'm going with this, no? Jeffty is perpetually five years old.

Because of his peculiarity, his parents resent him.

Jeffty's mother, Leona, specifically, dislikes him most...to the point she wishes he'd died as a baby.

Jeffty, for his part, is a good kid, despite the barely-hidden dislike he's shown. He has a secret hideout under the porch of his house, where he draws, reads comics, and listens to radio shows.

There's something strange about Jeffty, though (aside from the not-aging, and specifically linked to his not-aging). He can bring new pieces of the past into the future. Discontinued radio shows have new episodes, discontinued comics have new issues, and new merch is made for shows that no longer exist.

Specifically, Ellison writes about Jeffty bringing a brand-new Captain Midnight Secret Decoder Code-O-Graph into the future:

Donny talks about how living these new-past experiences via Jeffty thins the membrane between worlds, between Past and Present.

There's a problem, though. Exposing Jeffty to the Present eats away at him. In an attempt to hurry Jeffty away from the Present, Donny sends him off by himself to get tickets for the movie they're meant to see. Along the way, Jeffty gets roughed up by some older teens. Instead of taking him to a hospital, Donny takes him home to his parents.

Spotting the chance to take back a normal life and live in the present...Leona kills Jeffty in the family bathtub, playing present-day rock music over the radio.

Now, something I was struggling to answer in my big Time Loop Post was the question of "What happened in 1952, when Henry was 7?"

Jeffty, Joseph and Joseph, Henry and Henry: Changelings

Jeffty's now-grown friend, Donny, misses the way things were in the '50s, when he and Jeffty were little. He'd like things to go back to the way they were...

...and he gets that through Jeffty's time-bending powers.

Jeffty has a hideaway spot in his family home where he hides away from his resentful, fearful mother to draw, read comics, and listen to the radio:

Jeffty, whose mother wishes he'd died as a baby because he's precluding her from having a "normal" life...

And who killed him in a bathtub.

Another detail to add—Patty asks Henry if he isn't a little old to be as obsessed as he is with Captain Midnight, as if being a fan is something for little kids.

I'd like, then, to put this is all in concert with:

The Creel-Carmichael parallels per Changeling (1980), wherein Joseph, a disabled boy who's resented by his father, Richard, is locked away in his attic. Richard drowns Joseph in a bathtub at age 6, and replaces him with a "normal" boy. This "normal" boy is mostly convinced he's the real Joseph Carmichael until the end of the movie.

2. Em's Doppleganger TFS Henry theory (which suggests that at some point Henry was replaged with a dopple-gorgon who almost believes he's the real Henry Creel). 3. Em's post about Before I Wake (wherein a little boy drowns in a bathtub and is replaced by a new boy with strange abilities). 4. (A post I have yet to make, regarding) Parallels between ST and the show Servant, wherein a new mother accidentally kills her newborn son, Jericho, by forgetting him in a locked car during a heatwave. She's given a hyperrealistic baby-doll as a replacement in order to cope, which their nanny Leanne magically transforms into a real baby boy. ST5's code name is Jericho, and other parallel to the series include (but are not limited to): psychic powers, spiders, stalker cults, murderous yet somehow well-meaning nannies, and giant cracks opening up in the earth (psionically).

Thus, my hypothesis: I wonder if we aren't dealing with a matryoshka-doll-meets-Fringe type situation, wherein Henry died/was killed at age 7, was replaced by or swapped for another boy (like Peter Bishop...staring directly at Peter Owens/Peter Ballard) via the 1979/1952 incident, and then was swapped again with a doppleganger via the 1956 gate.

[cloveroctobers]

SAFE & SOUND — ARMAN MORALES X READER X ANGEL REYES: [Spring Prompts]

A/N: it’s going to be tough getting through the cleaning lady this season but it’s always the work that lives on that continues to inspires us. Just from the premiere also sparked this little thing + I also assumed I’d stop writing for Angel once Mayans MC ended but after a name drop in TCL here I am lol! That angel was handsome too IJS. Bet you thought you could get rid of me huh!? Hope y’all enjoy my first spring prompt of the year!

PROMPT IS FROM HERE & I’m using:  “Spring is so boring there aren’t any good holidays.” “Have you forgotten Easter, St patty’s day, Mother’s Day, April fools-” “I get it, I get it!”

FIRST GIF WAS FOUND THROUGH PINTEREST SO IT BELONGS TO IT’s RIGHTFUL OWNER + THE SECOND BELONGS TO: @dailymayans !

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*

The Vegas heat was doing what it does best, roasting down on you despite residing in a mountain area. You’re used to it, being from this state and living here all these years; although it was the fresh start of April, the eighty degree heat demanded to be felt. You’re out on the balcony, leaning over it, one arm exposed to the sun while the other went to work fanning yourself with your silk handheld folding fan staring out into the view.

Your bathing suit is somewhat dry still clinging to you although you, Angel, and Mavy got out of the community pool (over a half hour ago) as soon as it started to get over crowded with your fellow neighbors. Your body was slouched over the balcony, mindlessly fanning yourself as you sank into your boredom.

Angel chuckled at you from behind, leaving the balcony door open just a crack behind him with a beer in one hand. He briefly touched your lower back in greeting before moving to dramatically copy your movements but instead with the back of his hand resting on his forehead. “What you doin’ out here querida?”

“Oh you know, just losing my mind. Nothing too serious.” You replied while Angel snorted at you.

He sips at his cold beer before saying, “I asked you if you wanted go cruising this weekend and maybe end up in the city for a night but you weren’t feeling it. So…I’m guessing you didn’t enjoy your time at the pool?”

“With my two favorite boys…of course I did.” You weren’t sarcastic this time, “it’s just that I’m imagining spring break to be a real drag.”

Angel furrows his brows, not even knowing when that was coming up but still said, “so what are you saying? You wanna live out your college dreams again, head down to Miami to get wild or something?”

It was your turn to laugh as you tug on his shorts waistband, “Why would I need to relive Miami when I got my hoochie daddy right here?”

“Ah, Fuck outta here,” Angel laughed as he playfully smacked your hand away from him while you winked.

Pressing your temple into your balled up hand you sighed after awhile, “what im getting at is: Spring is so boring there aren’t any good holidays.” 

Angel raised his brows at this, not entirely believing that you found the season to be boring since you just went out the way last weekend to go shopping for spring decor. He was glad he had to work that weekend because he just knew you would have him in those stores for hours like you commonly did, he just felt bad for maverick in the end though.

“…Have you forgotten Easter, St. patty’s day, Mother’s Day, April fools-” he ticks off with his fingers while you roll your eyes.

You interject, “I get it, I get it!”

It’s not like angel cared much about those holidays either…(he wasn’t the best at remembering dates) well maybe the last one he found the most interest in but now he was trying to do something different in life for Maverick and since he met you (who did care for holidays) after the big move here. That sweet baby boy changed the trajectory of the way angel looked at life now and he wanted his kid to experience nothing but greatness and if he could provide that he would. He also liked watching you interact with Maverick and you both seemed to have a good time on Easter, doing kids activities like: painting eggs, going Easter egg hunting, and even getting a picture with a weird looking Easter bunny that now sat on the mantle in the living room.

Angel was even going to church now when he felt up to it and knew his mother would probably be proud of the way he turned his life around. How life was so different from what it could have been. He could be the one in the ground with his family but Angel knew he was meant to be right here, no matter how painful it got to be here.

He reshaped his life and was glad to say that he did it.

“You know, there’s plenty of things we can get into now that Mav’s down for his nap. I can be your source of entertainment.” Angel hints, slipping an arm underneath your cover up and tugging you to him.

You smirk as you meet his dark eyes, fanning yourself with one hand while the other grips his tatted arm. “Is that right?”

“Uh huh,” Angel hums pressing into you as he bites his bottom lip before pecking yours.

It wouldn’t be the first time out here on this balcony but you wouldn’t make it a repeat since it was too hot for all that. And you didn’t need to hear angel’s complaints of his ass being scorched thanks to the material of the balcony! However with the way the both of you ended up, tongues battling, hands roaming and squeezing with Angel’s back against the balcony now, it was becoming difficult trying to get the words out.

His hand’s are full of kneading your backside and he lets you breathe while he’s attacking your neck now, just the way you like it underneath your ear, his facial hair tickling your skin as he does so. Your fan and his beer are both out of your grasps now as you’re scratching at his back, which is just enough indication for Angel to lift you by the waist and up against his hips. He buries his face back to your skin, loving the way you smell as you hold onto him.

Your eyes peek open, breathing still ragged as you hold on but soon your eyes focus out towards the fence that blocks the condo’s from the main highway, spotting a figure who has their attention solely on you. At first you expect it to be some sort of creep watching you be intimate with your boyfriend but a palm goes up into the air before they remove their sunglasses.

Your breathing stops and Angel instantly notices you go still against him. He pulls back to glance at you, “you alright?”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you slowly place your legs down and Angel steadies you, still keeping a hand across your hips before he follows your stare. Angel’s eyes are in slits now, craning his neck and he’s on defense mode now, “fuck are you doing here?!”

You slap Angel’s arm to ease him while the man slowly steps closer to the building and both of your eyesight’s.

He says your name in greeting, “…hey, can we talk?”

Angel’s against it once he spots your hesitance but once you move, he’s not far behind you. You’re waiting at the front door, eyes to the right as you await for the man to make his way up the steps. He jogs up the last few steps, quickly making his way over to you while holding his sunglasses.

You’re still holding your breath as you take in his appearance, and it’s still the same man that you had the chance to spend your childhood with. The both of you don’t say anything, just staring and tracing over each others features with your eyes and Angel doesn’t like the feeling that sinks to the bottom of his stomach.

“You’re Armando right? You don’t look like any of the pictures.” Angel breaks the silence from behind you, arms crossed.

Arman flicks his eyes to your boyfriend, he takes in Angel’s appearance for a second before turning back to you, “Please, call me Arman…and Pictures?”

You exhale, “oh…yeah just two. The one from Costa Rica and your personal favorite: The selfie you took with my digital camera, the one you stole to impress that girl in photography class who already had a boyfriend—

“Did she though? I don’t recall.” Arman smirks and you scoff with a roll of your eyes, “but yeah I think I remember that one. It was the week after we finished junior year, Back when you were working at the skeeball section and Alicja Bosko purposely threw the ball at your shoulder to show off to her jackass boyfriend.”

You nodded remembering that huge bruise you received later that night, “Steven Jefferson. He was actually one of the nicest on the basketball team, if not the only one.”

“That’s because he was in love with you.” It was Arman’s turn to roll his brown eyes while you shook your head.

“No he wasn’t,” you crinkled your nose, “he was too far up Alicja’s ass.”

Arman argued, “yeah well maybe he should have been in theater instead of his brother because he wasn’t fooling me.”

You shrugged your shoulders with a small smile at the little walk down memory lane but knew to agree to disagree. It’s not like it wasn’t possible since you and Steven shared a few classes together, worked on a project or two because you sat near or next to each other but it didn’t cross your mind then. And you also weren’t aware that Steven questioned Arman once, after school when you went home early if the two of you were some secret couple. That was just the clean version of what Steven really said, which landed Arman on a three day suspension and Steven missing out on the next two games.

“…but the picture? It had to be of you having Alicja by the throat in the background while I had the most mischievous smile on my face…I can’t believe I forgot how much of a little shit I was.” Arman chuckled to himself while you nodded at him in amusement before he turned back to Angel, “plus it would make sense that I look different as a teen to present day right? Being a grown successful man does that to you, huh?”

He playfully slapped Angel on his shoulder before he squeezed himself by, taking in your home.

‘Now who the fuck did this guy think he is?’ Was exactly what Angel was thinking.

You squeezed Angel’s wrist as he sent you a look before kicking the door shut behind you.

“Feels much better in here and I see you’re doing well for yourself too.” Arman stood in the middle of the home.

Although he resided in the same state as you but at a great distance, Arman was still aware of your professions of once being a PI but now worked for a cybersecurity company as an intelligence analyst. He was proud to see that you were still driven but ultimately knew that wouldn’t change.

Angel muttered, “I bet it does when you’re not dressed like fucken blade in Vegas.”

“What was that?” Arman’s got his hands on his hips, bringing his attention back to the tatted man.

“Angel’s just wondering what you would like to drink.” Smiling hard at your boyfriend, he sucked his teeth with a roll of his head and rushed by you two.

He went around the corner by the dining area to the left where the closed off kitchen was. Once he pulled the fridge open, he missed out on you and Arman reaching out for each other to give each other a squeeze but not long enough to the point it would bring tears.

Arman couldn’t take tears from you, never could.

“Angel’s also wondering what brings you here and why you felt the need to stalk his girlfriend from the bushes.” He inquired, appearing just as you’re motioning for Arman to have a seat on the couch.

Angel slides a Gatorade on the coffee table (this Arman character wasn’t getting any of Angel’s good beer. By the looks of Arman, Angel had a feeling he probably wouldn’t drink it anyway.) and plops down on the sitting chair on Arman’s left.

Arman awkwardly laughs, “right…didn’t mean to intrude on you two…” he sends a knowing smile at you while you shrugged with a flick of your hair, “and I know that probably looked insane so I do apologize for that. I just had to make sure I had the right place.”

You suggest, “Next time maybe a phone call would be better?”

“Can’t exactly trust that lately.” Arman admits which makes Angel sit up, sending you a glance before Angel is pressing his elbows into his knees while Arman continues, “Look…I’m not here to cause any trouble but I had to see you…just in case.”

Angel wasn’t sure what that means but he had a feeling and he didn’t like being out of the loop of what was going on. He left Santo Padre for a reason and he found something special with you…yet someone from your past just shows up out the blue—that you haven’t seen in who knows how long, with a nice cut on his lip, brow, and cheek! and who knows where else! Arman didn’t seem to be walking normally if you asked Angel and this guy was saying things like he was preparing for the worse! In conclusion: sounded like a red flag to Angel.

“Before you expand on that…there’s just a few things that I do need to get off my chest.” Angel interrupts the intense eye contact you were sharing with another man.

Arman blinks over at Angel, “okay…”

“How long has it been since you two last saw each other?”

Arman looks to you again and you round off, “it’s been years, maybe fifteen? but the postcards and little figurines made it seem like less.”

Angel wasn’t aware of any of that but it’s not like you kept your friendship with Arman much of a secret. There wasn’t anything to hide in the first place. You always spoke highly of him and Angel couldn’t really grasp the idea of a man and a woman being just friends if they weren’t family. Yes that was his projection but he’s never seen anything like this that wasn’t romantic.

He rubs at his face in thought while Arman smiles softly at you, lightly shoving your knee and in that moment Angel was thankful he did the honors of tying your coverup before you opened the front door. Sorry not sorry.

Angel just comes right out with it, “so…were you two ever a thing? Serious or just foolin’ around?”

Your eyes go wide and Arman laughs at this, which irritates Angel.

“No.” Arman clearly states, “We maybe soulmates but not in a romantic sense, which makes this friendship so much more easy to have, no matter how many years pass us by. I love your girlfriend but you don’t have to worry about me falling in love with her because that’s your job, right?” He stares hard at the bearded man, almost daring Angel to say the wrong thing.

Angel immediately nods his head, feeling the tension ease somewhat from his jaw although he can feel your heated stare on him also. You already told him what it was with Arman when he asked you about your love for him once before and didn’t particularly like that he was bringing it up again to Arman. However Angel wanted to make sure that this wasn’t one sided and he had no shame in that.

“Good!” Arman claps, “then we have nothing to worry about. As long as you’re good to her, then we won’t have an issue.”

“…we’re good to each other.” You tell, wanting Angel’s eyes to settle on you, which they do before he sits back with a crooked smile.

Satisfied.

You shake your head at him and turn back to Arman who’s watching the exchange. You place your hand on Arman’s which is now thrown along the top of the couch, “And I’m glad I have all of my boys back underneath one roof. Except one of them doesn’t work my nerves as much.”

Arman scowls as he looks at Angel, “I find that hard to believe.”

“Fuck does that mean?” Angel feels his lip curl while Arman holds his hands up in surrender with a smile as Angel says, “she’s not talking about me but you don’t have to assume shit with that smug smile on your face, man.”

‘Lookin’ like the damn monopoly man and shit.’ Angel thinks to himself but he was trying to keep things cordial.

Arman tilts his head at this, “…there’s another guy that loves to take up your time? Don’t tell me—

“Relax,” you soothe, “I didn’t biologically have Maverick but I love him like he’s my own.”

“And I can’t thank you enough.” Angel tells you with a glint in his eye, “you have any kids, Armando?”

Arman slowly shakes his head putting the pieces together silently after spying a picture above the fireplace before he thinks of his own situation, “no but I too know a kid that I’ll always protect.”

“Aw, look at you having the parenting bug.” You wiggle the man’s shoulder.

Arman sighs trying to fight back a smile, “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to. Your face did.”

“She’s right.” Angel agreed.

Arman attempts to whisper, “Don’t say that too much or her head will explode.”

You pinch the back of the skin on Arman’s hand who hisses before yanking his hand away. Angel laughs at you two, finding that this Arman guy might be alright in his book.

“I’ve missed you, you know? Even when you still do that pinching shit.” He shakes his hand about before rubbing it.

“I know and so have I, Armani-man.”

He chuckles, “haven’t heard that in awhile.”

“What?” You gasp as you mention, “Don’t tell me Nadia hasn’t hit you with annoying spins on your government?”

Yes you were also aware that Arman found his Mrs. Morales out there in the world. At first you felt a way about it since he simply sent over a picture and a brief letter to your mailbox during your late twenties and not an invitation to the wedding. Which he later explained in the attached letter that it was a spur of the moment ceremony out of the country. You only knew bits and pieces of what Nadia was like and what she looked like. However there seemed to be a shift in Arman at the mention of his wife.

As soon as you noticed it, it was gone, leaving the guarded man to exhale, “…only when she wants something.”

“You too, huh?” Angel cracks open the Gatorade before taking a sip, “ever get hit with a ‘hoochie daddy?’”

Arman blinks before oddly staring back and forth at you two, “A what?”

“Never mind my boyfriend,” you fan your hand, “you said you came here to visit me just in case of what exactly…”

Arman dips his head and clears his throat. When he starts cracking his fingers with one hand, you notice it’s still something he does when there’s a lot on his mind even with the both of you settling into your own adulthoods. That alone makes you scoot closer to him, balling your legs to the side of you as you rest your head back against his arm.

“I’m here. Always.”

This he knew.

He never imagined plopping back into your life like this, on the run and keeping it all away from the two women he’s in love with but it was a fact that you knew the start. And if that’s what he had to go back to, then so be it. Part of him felt like he should feel guilty bringing you back into this, while at the same time he knew the levels of your relationship and that you would always look out for him too.

The both of you grew up together and then separately because arman sought out for more that his father didn’t approve of and the connection between you two was just as strong then as it is now. It wasn’t conditional on your part, which is why the both of you still had a friendship. That was evident with the way you two moved around each other and Angel felt like he should be jealous.

Oh but he was! especially with the bits of affection he witnessed, that was something he didn’t want to get used to but maybe he was starting to understand? Angel would grasp it more if he saw how Arman was around this Nadia person and had a feeling he probably would the longer Arman stayed or came around. However both you and Arman knew it wouldn’t be a long span of time. It’s just not the way he operated.

He was always on the move.

“Do I need to give you two the room?” Angel places his hand on his chest, “I really don’t want to in fear that I’ll start smoking again but my heart, yeah I got that, is saying I prolly should.”

You peek up at Arman, the both of you sharing a laugh before Arman nudged his head and you’re patting the empty spot next to you. “Get over here.”

“I dunno…the way you two look at each other gives off more than just friends.” Angel cautiously makes his way over, while you toss your legs right over his lap, leaving him to caress your bare ankle.

Arman shakes his head as he meets Angel’s eyes, “you’ve never loved a best friend so much that you’ll do anything for?”

“Well yeah…” Angel starts with a lift of his shoulders, “but I never had stars in my eyes when I looked at coco’s crazy ass. And he wouldn’t be walking up in my house like he owns the place. I’ll tell you that much. Actually—he’d probably find a way in here without us knowing.”

You’ve heard stories about Coco—Johnny plenty times before and wished you would have had the chance to meet him. With the way Angel spoke of him and the one’s he once called his brothers, made it seem like you already have.

You snort, “might as well have stars with how much you speak on him and Ezekiel.”

Angel blows out a breath at how much he missed those guys through it all, “I guess I get it too. But i do have to say, if this turns out to be more harm than good to us…you may see a side of me you don’t like and that can get ugly.”

That was aimed more at Arman than you, you were sure but as good as you knew the man to your left, he didn’t take threats lightly yet he could respect it since you chose Angel.

“Well at least you’re honest about your lack of looks…but we can both agree every side is my good side.” Arman jokes as he pinches his chin, caressing his facial hair with a grin.

Angel huffs, “get a load of this fucken guy! First you waltz in here and now this? You’re something else, man. But I guess…you’re alright for now.”

Arman leans over you as Angel goes to give him a fist while Arman was ready to give his hand a shake. Angel stares at Arman’s hand, not budging before Arman huffs and decides to bump fists instead with a shake of his head in disbelief.

“Yay, my bestie and my boyfriend getting along!”You grip Arman’s shoulder to place a kiss on his cheek before flopping your body against Angel who squeezes your shoulder, kissing the corner of your eye as you say “Love to see it…maybe spring break won’t be so bad after all.”

Arman and Angel both share a knowing glance, being aware that this probably wouldn’t be some simple visit of a friend coming to town—although you were no stranger to Arman’s lifestyle—but for both of their sakes they’ll relish in your happiness.

That’s mainly what both men wanted for you.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*

Continue along with my spring anthology prompts here.

[impala-dreamer]

We're All Irish Tonight

An SPN Fanfic

~Dean has been pining for Y/N for months now, and he thinks tonight might be the night things finally get going...~

Dean Winchester x Reader, Sam Winchester, OCs

1344 Words

Warnings: Jealous!Dean, BAMF!Reader, Fluff. Drinking

A/N: Thought you could all use a fluffy drabble today so I banged this out for ya. Happy St Patrick's Day!

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works  ~  Buy Me A Coffee  ~  Feedback is Gold

The crowd was buzzing with faux Irish pride, only about ten percent of the patrons able to boast any actual connection to the Emerald Isle. But it didn’t matter- tonight, everyone was Irish. The bar was crowded three deep and the trio took turns wading through the sea of drunken green to wave down Chris, the bartender, and order more rounds. 

Y/N was nursing a Guinness like it was poison, but knocking back whiskies like they were the cure. 

“I hate this stuff,” she said behind a hiccup, voice carrying over the throng and across the table to Dean, who was the picture of calm with a thick, foamy mustache. “Tastes like bread!” 

He laughed and licked the head from his lips. “Then why do you keep drinking it?” he yelled back, leaning over the table to get closer to her. 

She shrugged and batted her lashes innocently. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just a dumb floosy at the bar tonight. Besides, everyone’s Irish on Saint Patty’s Day!” 

Seated between them, Sam laughed and rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling for the thousandth time like the third, unwanted wheel on a scooter. “I’ll get you something else when I get back up,” he offered, smiling sweetly at Y/N. 

She was too drunk to really care, but they were having fun. “Nah.” Pushing her chair back, she stood with the pint, downed the rest in one gulp and amazingly did not choke. 

Dean watched her in awe, his green eyes wide, his plump lips gone slack. “Damn.” 

Y/N slammed the empty glass down and cheered. “Whoo! Next one’s on me, boys!” She winked at Dean before turning to the bar and squaring her shoulders, preparing to fight through the noisy masses. 

Dean sat back, staring at her ass as she left. He rubbed his hands down his thighs and whistled with interest. “Ya know, Sammy, tonight might be the night.” 

Sam, having heard this more than a dozen times in the last two months, rolled his eyes and went diving into his beer, hoping to drown or find an escape hatch at the bottom. “Yeah, sure, Dean.” 

“What? You don’t think it’ll happen? Tonight is perfect. Drinks, music, tons of people.” Dean smiled to himself, thinking of the prospects. “Maybe we’ll go for a walk later, find a quiet spot… yada yada… see what happens.” 

There was no help at the bottom of his glass, just a fishbowl view of the grimey table. Sam sighed. “Sure. Just like last week and the week before and that time in Oswego when you were so sure you were gonna hook up. Give it up, Dean. She’s not into you.” 

Dean took it all to heart and slumped down in his chair, crossing his arms. He pouted and then scoffed. “What do you know anyway?” 

Up at the bar, Y/N was waiting for the pints to be drawn, and she herself had drawn some attention from a group of fratboys in various shades of green. One in particular, a blond with pretty blue eyes, was leaning in pretty close, the stench of whiskey and weed on his breath. 

“Come on, baby,” he cooed, pressing himself against Y/N’s shoulder. “You gotta let me pinch you.” 

She spun and lay a playful looking hand on his shoulder while actually pushing him back a step. “Really? And why’s that?” 

He laughed. “Ya ain’t wearin’ green!” 

Y/N licked her lips and gave him another shove backwards. “How do you know?” 

The man ran his hand down her back and moved in again. “I don’t see nothing green on ya, sweetheart.” 

She reeled him in a little closer, whispering. “Well, maybe you just can’t see it over my clothes…”

He sucked in a quick breath through puckered lips and went for it, nearly tumbling over her for a kiss. 

The crack of Y/N’s palm against his cheek rang through the bar like a lightning strike. 

Dean’s head popped up and his eyes narrowed. In an instant, he was at the bar, shoving people aside to get to Y/N.. 

She was standing in the middle of a crowd of morons, one hand on her hip, the other wagging through the air. 

“Don’t you fucking touch a lady without her permission,” she snapped, glaring up at the boy like the Headmistress of a boarding school. 

Blondie got smart and sneered. “I don’t see a lady here,” he barked, arms wide open, looking for a fight. Her handprint bloomed like a rose on his cheek. 

Dean unclenched his fists and his jaw. “Hey! She said back up, buddy.” 

“Who you calling ‘buddy’, pal?” 

“I ain’t your pal,” Dean spat. “And you best take your candy-ass out of here before I paint your other cheek.” 

Dean stepped in, the fratboy countered. Y/N cocked a brow, watching the display. 

The asshole backed down. “Eh, she ain’t worth it anyway.” 

Dean’s shoulders relaxed, but Y/N did not. Stepping between them, she cracked her fist against his other jaw, nearly knocking him over. 

“I am too worth it, ya jackass!”

Sadly, Chris had no choice but to kick Y/N out of the bar, and Dean found her moments later, walking towards home in the chilly night air. Her arms were wrapped around her middle and she walked slowly, kicking at the sidewalk. 

Dean shrugged off his jacket and hung it over her shoulders, startling her a bit. 

“Oh! Hey…” 

He smiled and stepped in front of her to close the top button lest the jacket fall off. She looked terribly small and precious in his oversized coat; too precious to be walking home alone by herself. 

“Ya left without us,” he said, hoping to get a laugh. 

She sighed instead. “Yeah, well… I didn’t want to ruin your night out. Not anymore than I already did, anyway.” 

Dean laughed. “Ruin? Are you kidding me? Watching you beat the crap out of that guy was the highlight of the evening. Hell, of the week.” He turned and slung his arm around her, enjoying the closeness. 

“He really was being a dick. You didn’t see but he was a little grabby…” 

Dean skidded to a halt. “I’ll fuckin’ kill him…” 

“No, no!” Y/N laughed and grabbed his flannel, turning him towards her again. “I was very impressed how you came to my rescue like that.” 

He bit his lip, gazed down with hope in his eyes. “Y/N, if I know anything about you, it’s that you don’t need rescuing. But still, if he comes near you again, I will stab him in the throat.” 

Another laugh knocked her head back and Dean couldn’t stand it any longer. Without a plan, without a thought, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. The moment was brief but not without the shock of truth and they both gasped when space lengthened between them. 

“You… kissed me.” Her eyes were wet and her skin was flushed. Her fingers curled tighter around his flannel. 

He blushed, licked his lip, dipped his chin. “I did, yeah.” 

Stunned, she hung there for a long moment, eyes caressing his face, unable find any words at all. 

Dean grew anxious and cleared his throat. “You’re thinkin’ about laying me out like you did that asshole, aren’t you?”

Slowly, she shook her head and smiled. “Actually, I was thinking about kissing you back…” 

Their lips met under the streetlight, with the noise from the bar lost in the background. Dean wrapped his arms around her, keeping her close while she slipped her tongue between his lips, tasting, exploring, begging for more. 

When she let him go, he looked down, awed and drunk and happy for the first time in a long time. 

“Well, I guess today is lucky after all,” he whispered. 

Y/N shook her head, laughing gently. “You’re not Irish, Dean.” 

He inhaled deeply, pulling in the memory of the moment as his arms tightened around her. “Baby, tonight, we’re all Irish.” 

2023 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

@aditimukul @agirlwithdemonblood @amanda-teaches @akshi8278 @alwayskeepfightingsweetheart @b3autyfuldisast3r @babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @because-imma-lady-assface @bloodline1632 @charred-angelwings @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @covered-byroses @djs8891 @deanwinchesterswitch @deansyahtzee @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @iamsapphine @idreamofdeanie @ilsawasanacrobat @impalaspixie @jawritter @justcallmeasmodeus @kazsrm67 @kittenofdoomage @leigh70 @lovealways-j @lyarr24 @mariekoukie6661 @maggiegirl17 @mistressofallthingsgeeky @pandaxo79 @peachy-vans @rachiem4-blog @roseblue373 @sacriceria @samwellwinchesterthebrave @sexyvixen7 @spideysimpossiblegirl @spnexploration @stevekempscocktails @the-wounded-healer05 @thoughts-and-funnies @vulgar-library 

[she-ismysun-archive]

911 abc/fox live blogging

oh it's so over dude.. the angst is never ending!!! hello new faces for the 118. Eddie's now gonna go through what buck went through when Bobby thought he wasn't ready to come back. UHG. something something about buddie being self destructive as fuckkk

Further below for my live thoughts

So this was the episode i accidentally started when i was still in season 3. Me when i was sleepy and just trying to restart episodes but clicked on season 5 and not season 3 so i ended up watching the first 1-2 min of each episode after the Christmas special to figure out where i left off and it wasnt until i watched maddy throwing herself in the ocean was when i realized (oh something is WRONG)

OH SHES NOT HAVING POST PARTUM DEPRESSION. OVERACTIVE THRYOID.

I was so so scared but also relieved seeing her admit herself into the hospital

HELLO? JJ?? WYD HERE IN 911

Remember when chimney was like “yeah and my little girl is having milestones in motels”

AWWW jee has huge baby teeth now

OH HOWTHEY COME BACK TOGETHER BY COINCIDENCE ON ST PATTYS DAY

Learning how to stop running. Oh how many tears can I cry this episode. Ouuuaaaaaaaaagh. Her pouring her heart back out to him. They’re perfect together and im so happy they’re finally fucking talking

Chimney is everything to me

HHHH SHE D: Missed all of D: jee-yun’s development D:

We are going HOME!

[moodymelanist]

I Guess It's Half Timing (And The Other Half's Luck) - Chapter One

Summary: Nesta and Cassian have a steamy one-night stand while out celebrating St. Patrick’s Day, but their lives are changed forever once Nesta realizes her period is late. Follow along as Nesta and Cassian navigate preparing to become parents, balancing their other life stresses, and figuring out their feelings for one another!

*shoves other WIPs into a closet and ignores how they're spilling out onto the floor behind me* So... fancy meeting you all here. I hope you enjoy this super fun fic where we get to see Nessian eventually fall in love as they get ready to have a baby. I'll be updating this fic once a month, so we'll be following along with Nesta's pregnancy in ~real time~ hehe. Expect chapter two to fall somewhere during @nestaarcheronweek!

Happy St. Patricks’s Day 🍀🍀🍀

✷✷✷✷✷ Nesta

Nesta wanted nothing more than to relax after a long week of editing manuscripts, but the second she saw Gwyn’s name light up on her car display as she drove home, she knew she would get nothing but.

“Hello?” Nesta answered.

“Hey, Nesta,” Gwyn said back cheerily. How her friend managed to have so much energy as a grad student, Nesta would never know. “Do you have plans tonight?”

“If I say yes, will you believe me?” Nesta replied, already knowing the answer. 

Gwyn just laughed, confirming Nesta’s thoughts. “Staying home to watch reruns of Bob’s Burgers does not count as plans, Nesta! We’re going out.”

“Yes it does,” Nesta argued back half-heartedly. 

“No, it doesn’t,” Gwyn responded primly. “I already roped Emerie in, so you pretty much have to come. Plus it’s St. Patrick’s Day!”

“If I come,” Nesta began, “I’m allowed to leave by midnight.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine,” Gwyn agreed immediately. She agreed far easier than she usually did when Nesta wanted to go home earlier, but Nesta would count her blessings where she could get them. “There’s a bunch of places having stuff for St. Patty’s, so just make sure to wear something green, okay?”

“Fine,” Nesta said, smiling despite herself at the sound of Gwyn’s excitement. She did enjoy going out sometimes, and maybe it would rejuvenate her after a long week instead of draining her even further. “What time are we meeting up?”

“Be at the bar by 8,” Gwyn told her. “I’ll text you the address. Love you, bye!”

“Love you too,” Nesta replied automatically. “See you later.”

Keep reading on AO3 here!

tag list: @perseusannabeth | @bookstantrash | @charming-butt-insane | @oversizedbats | @melphss | @sv0430 | @podemechamardek | @autumnbabylon | @live-the-fangirl-life | @julemmaes | @that-little-red-head | @jmoonjones | @sayosdreams | @thewayshedreamed | @hiimheresworld | @brieq | @pearloftheorients | @swankii-art-teacher | @nerdperson524 | @snickerdoodlechittybangbang | @imsointobooks | @nesquik-arccheron | @sweet-pea1 | @champanheandluxxury | @dustjacketmusings | @mrs-shadowsinger04 | @unlikelypersonalknight1 | @goddess-aelin | @arinbelle | @talkfantasytome | @simpingfornestaarcheron | @duskandstarlight | @letstakethedawn | @vidalinav | @c-e-d-dreamer | @dealfea | @katekatpattywack | @burningsnowleopard

[pugsandfrenchbulldogs]

[hriobzagelthewanderer]

Things Hriob is No Longer Allowed to Do, Revised Edition - Part Trois

#81 Yes, exercise nuts often invent new fads to sell shit to the unknowing masses trying to ‘get in shape’. No, I am not allowed to market a new “Diogenes Workout” involving rock climbing using only a cauldron and a sledgehammer. Not even if I demonstrate how ‘easy’ it is.

#82 Yes, Sparring is a fun way to get a full-body exercise so long as I have a designated partner and don’t get carried away. No, asking bar-goers random thugs and mercenaries Pirates with serious anger issues anyone ‘Hey, you want to Fight?’ is NOT sparring and I am not allowed to do this anymore.

#83 I am forever forbidden from ‘Saving Christmas’, even ESPECIALLY if I was the one who put it in Jeopardy in the first place.

#84 I am not to confuse ‘Spreading Christmas Cheer’ with ‘Getting the masses intoxicated with my Eggnog Special’. There’s more to the Spirit of the Holidays than Spirits, Hriob, you should know this already.

#85 Just to be safe, to build upon the prior two rulings (#83 and #84), I cannot ‘Save’ Hanukkah Kwanzaa Thanksgiving Halloween Easter Ramadan St. Patrick’s Day Valentine’s Day ANY remotely ‘major’ Holiday regardless of whether or not it has anything to do with any given religion.

#86 I can be ‘Santa’ for Christmas, or I can be ‘Krampus’. Both have ups and downs, but I will remember to pick ONE and stick with it per Christmas season, for my own sake as much as everyone else’s.

#87 Regardless of whether or not I have the powers of Bardic Magic on my side or not, I will refrain from abusing this power to turn deadly battles villainous monologues do-or-die moments training sessions ANY moment that isn’t already filled with unusual amounts of song into quaint musical numbers. Yes, even if the children love it when I do that.

#88 I am not a cherub, and even if I’m not too shabby with a bow when the time calls for it, I am not allowed to claim that I can make people fall in love by shooting them with arrows splashing them with potions showering them with chocolate serenading them getting them drunk enough holding them at knife-point locking them in a small room together ANY means - and I am forever forbidden from trying to prove that I can.

#89 The power to ‘bring snowmen to life’ is not a Right, it is a Privilege. The moment I abuse this power for ANY reason is the moment I am forever banned from making ‘Atronachs’ of ANY material, period.

#90 Even if I know any personifications of the Seasons personally, I am not allowed to bribe threaten trick coerce seduce gamble use ANY means to adjust when one season ends and another begins, be it for my own benefit or ‘shits and giggles’.

#91 Reddish hair or not, Inconceivable Alcohol Immunity or not, Strange Luck or not, I am NOT Irish, but Czech-German, and I am not allowed to let others confuse that issue.

#92 In accordance with the prior rule, this means I am not allowed to celebrate St. Patty’s Day unsupervised, nor am I allowed to encourage people to ‘Kiss me’ under the pretense that ‘I’m Irish’. It's bad enough I have too many people who’d do it anyways, they don’t need further incentive.

#93 As a self-employed Entrepreneur and Craft Brewer, I understand the importance of self-promotion and advertisement. Making careful deals with bar owners and handing out Business Cards is a step in the right direction - Going door-to-door with a red wagon and trying to use arguably cute animal familiars random woodland creatures glamours girl scouts boy scouts random children important children puppies kittens baby seals ANY variation of ‘little helpers’’ to make sales is right out.

#94 Many restaurants and food vendors enjoy using the concept of ‘Free Samples’ to sell their products. As an Alchemic Craft-Brewer, I am to remind myself that, no, this is NOT a valid method of advertising for my wares, with all but a few NO exceptions.

#95 As I grow more talented with Life magic, alchemy, and gain access to individuals with greater talents in those fields than myself, I am to be reminded that I will not create/pester others to help create a ‘Molotov Cockatiel’ to use as a familiar pet prank biological warfare agent FOR ANY REASON.

#96 The ‘tomato allegory’ is a good way to demonstrate examples of Wisdom versus Intelligence, as well as other ‘DnD stats’ in a real-world context. I am NOT to try and actually act out parts of the allegory, or try to make my own ‘better’ one using beer vodka hamsters zombies drunk zombie hamsters ANYTHING ELSE, “just because” - no matter HOW ‘educational’ it may or may not be.

#97 I am not allowed to stress-test Bowling Lanes or Equipment by “playing as hard good fun as I can”.

#98 I am not allowed to help Jacob in any variety of smithy, workshop, metalworking, or engineering project without additional adult supervision. Let the Coilgun-powered Hammer be the last Scientific Monstrosity I help bring into the world.

#99 When building massive projects involving Gingerbread buildings ‘To Scale’, I will remember to make sure that the Runic Protections prevent anything breaking, sagging, dirtying or making any part of it inedible, and also remember that the Load-bearing structures are kept far away from hungry guests whenever possible.

#100 Just because I have a Ring of Sands that gives me an extra casting focus for my magics, attuned to both Wind and Earth elements as well as the Concept of Sand itself, does Not make me ‘The Sand Guardian, Guardian of the Sands’, and neither does it give me any reason, excuse, legitimacy, or ability to tease, torment, or banish The Master beyond what I already can do in any way not already defined by the pertinent ‘unspoken agreement’ - even especially in light of the fact he’s already broken it.

#101 Yes, I am a Lord of the Fae, and can use my power to command certain kinds of ‘Lesser’ Fairies, including Pixies. Yes, Pixies are for all intents and purposes magical glowing balls of flying teeth and mischief with a taste for human flesh. No, I am NOT allowed to ‘summon’ them by quoting the Wicked Witch of the West and/or weaponizing massive swarms of pixies as a substitute for flying Piranha Unless I really want to Excepting truly Dire Circumstances by my reckoning as defined by a rational, responsible adult that is not myself.

#102 Upon further revision and consideration, the above rule (#101) is to be applied to any and all flying creatures, contraptions, and/or weapons, magical or otherwise, again excluding Emergency Use as defined by an independent observer. Projectiles of any kind, guided or not, are to be used carefully, not liberally.

#103 If against all odds and attempts to avoid combating a so-called God or Deity fail, and violence becomes necessary to defend myself or others, should I be given the chance to attack them with something resembling a symbol of their office, I am to remind myself of two things first:

A) If it is a symbol of their office, they most likely have high resistance to it, if not power over it, and I ought to consider other options B) I am not allowed to chant ‘Stop Hitting Yourself’ if I proceed to attack them with said symbol regardless of the above step.

#104 I may be immune to Nightwood poison powder, but that does not allow me to ‘create a new version of the cinnamon challenge’ using it instead of a generic spice, nor use it for any other purposes beyond careful poison applications. And even if that does include toxic smoke bombs, I will NOT refer to them as ‘vanishing powder bombs’.

#105 I am not allowed to apply to break into enchant curse be within a seven mile radius of interact with any ‘Bed Bath and Beyond’ with the intention of “revamping their ‘Beyond’ section to comply with the Better Business Bureau’s advertising standards.”

#106 I am not allowed to break into buy the entire stock of in any way acquire any amount of scented candles beyond ‘2’, even especially with the intention of creating a ‘Scented Wax Antronach’.

#107 Just because my blood probably should be a controlled substance in at least 39 states by this point, doesn’t mean I should brag about it. If anything, the less any given national government knows about me, the better.

#108 The above ruling (#107) is to be extended hereafter to all other bodily fluids, samples, and secretions of my physical form, including Lymph, Sweat, Bones, Mucus, Semen, Ligaments, Major Organs, Minor Organs, Imaginary Organs, anything and everything off my person.

#109 No longer allowed to avoid paperwork with the O.A.B. by just claiming “the Dog ate it”- Gurrel has enough on his plate without being made into a scapegoat. In addition, despite how much more likely it actually is, claiming ‘the Moose ate it’ is not acceptable either.

#110 Not allowed to look into body modifications - magical or otherwise - until I have been given a clean bill of health by a licensed therapist in regards to any potential body-image issues second opinion from a responsible adult that doesn’t veto my idea… and the moment I decide I want to ‘show them my junk and hope they can work their magic’ is the moment I am forbidden from getting any mods regardless.

#111 If given the option, I will Not use my powers of Lightning and/or Space-Time Magic to pull ‘random’ objects towards my person. It never ends well.

#112 I will remember why I practiced the Prestidigitation spells until they were second nature, and only use them for protection against theft and utility beyond the need for physical pockets - I will NOT abuse the powers to pick-pocket or ‘reverse’-pick-pocket others.

#113 If someone asks for a lift to a particular country or city (ex: Paris, France), and I am not certain if they mean one instance or another lesser-known one (ex: Paris, Texas), I will NOT assume I know which one they mean but instead ask for clarification.

#113 I will not misunderstand what is asked of me if I am asked for a ‘Lift’ from someone.

#115 I will not attempt to make a sandwich out of anything that is larger than a standard four-door sedan. Nor am I allowed to construct a sandwich that exceeds those dimensions.

#116 “What Happens in Atlantis, Stays in Atlantis”, is not, has never been, nor will ever become a valid legal defense. The same is true substituting for “Pompeii”.

#117 Just because I met Gilgamesh in a past life (As Humbaba) and was subsequently killed by him and his best friend does not mean I get to claim he owes me money reparations a solid anything.

#118 I don’t care how many people seem to think I am a ‘dead ringer’ for Thor, I will not accept the title or namesake: fighting one giant god-slaying snake-man was enough for me for any number of lifetimes.

#119 I know I hate spandex and think it is uncomfortable, impractical, and generally a stupid thing to wear. That is no excuse for chastising the fashion senses of ‘superheroes’ and ‘supervillains’ I come across even if they clearly need the help for any reason.

#120 Yes, I know Mixed Martial Arts championships exist that incorporate Medieval European Weapons and Armor in the ring. No, I am not allowed to compete given my dozens of unfair advantages - if tempted to do so anyways I am to chant to myself the words ‘we have weapons and armor sparring at home’ until the urges subside.

[spacecadet-ticklesinspace]

Since St patricks day is coming up..

Imagine Peter 1,2, and 3 change up the rules and instead of getting pinched if you dont wear green, you get tickled! This idea came to me and i was hoping you'd like it!

Saint Patrick's Day

Summary: See prompt above :)

(Anon, I ADORE this idea ❤️ this was too cute not to turn into a prompt and I hope that's okay :) Happy Early St. Patty's Day!)

Peter 2 scrubbed at his face as he stumbled down the stairs. He was so glad today was Friday because his energy for this week was running out. He just needed to get through today and he would be free for the weekend.

As the oldest stepped into the kitchen, he was surprised to see the younger two already in the kitchen. "You two are up early."

Peter 3 handed Two a cup of coffee as he worked at the stove. "Wehell, we were excited and wahanted to do something special."

Peter 2 gladly accepted the cup. "Thank you, I needed this."

One giggled then took a bite out of his toast. Two stared at the toast. Something seemed off about it but he couldn't put his finger on it.

The youngest held up his plate. "Do you want some?"

"No thank you bud. I appreciate it but I'll make my own."

Peter 1 shrugged. "Suit yourself laddie."

The oldest furrowed his eyebrows then took another sip of his coffee. It was too early to deal with these shenanigans.

Peter 3 chuckled. "Hehes gettihing into the spirit a little too hahard."

"Isn't he too young to drink?"

Both younger brothers smirked at their older brother.

"What are you two up too?"

The youngest Peter hummed and took another bite of his toast. "Nohothing."

"Someone juhust forgot to wehear an important color on this important holiday." Three continued working at the stove.

The oldest stared at the two. Something slowly clicked in the back of his mind. "What day is it today?"

"Friday."

Peter 1 gave his most 'innocent' look as Peter 2 glared at him. Suddenly, the oldest held up his green coffee cup before looking back at the green spread on One's toast.

"It's Saint Patrick's Day, isn't it?"

Both Peter 1 and 3 burst out laughing.

A blush appeared on Two's face. "Hey!"

"Wehere sorry Twoho, wehe're nohot laughing ahat you." Three soothed. "Wehere lahaughing ahat what you juhust said."

Peter 2 pinched his nose. "I thought it was on Monday."

One stood. "Ihits okahay, it happens toho thehe best of us."

Peter 2 rubbed the back of his neck. "Granted, you two did give me a lot of clues."

"Actaully, Ihi sahaved the best clue fohor last," Three explained as he unzipped his hoodie.

Under the middle Peter's hoodie was a shirt that read 'Kiss Me, I'm Irish' with a cartoonish leprechaun dancing a jig under it.

The oldest grinned. "Thahat would have given ihit awahay instantly."

"But you know what else that means?"

Peter 1 and 2 looked at each other and shrugged.

The tallest Peter wiggled his fingers at his brothers. "You twoho didn't wear any green."

Both Peters eyes widened comically. About a week prior, Peter 3 had made a Saint Patrick's day proposition. Since people normally pinched those who didn't wear green, he wanted to tickle whoever didn't wear green.

The other two had agreed to the proposition a week ago. Now the same idea sent nervous tingles down their spines and sides.

"Ihi wahas helpihing yohou!" Peter 1 exclaimed. "I didn't hahave a chance toho chahange!"

"Nohow yohou pay the consequehences."

Peter 2 grabbed his baby brother's shoulder. "Run!"

Both Peters bolted.

"I'm gonna get you!" Three sang as he chased after his two brothers.

Two darted to the stairs while One tried to loose Three in a chase around the living room. The oldest Peter watched everything from the stairs.

Peter 1 soon became pinned behind the coffee table. "Three!"

Three ran to one side of the table. "Come here you!"

One ran in the other direction and crashed a moment later in to Three's chest. The tallest Peter bent so he could scoop One over his shoulder.

"Ah! Whahat ahare you dohoing!"

Three ignored the question and turned to face the oldest. "One down, ohone to go."

Peter 2 had never run up the stairs as fast as he had in that moment. As he ran in to the different rooms, he could hear Three's pounding feet and One's bouncy giggles close behind him. No matter how many places he ran and dodged, he could never escape the pursuit.

The chase came to an end when Peter 2 stumbled going around a corner. The delay gave Three enough time to tackle his older brother to the ground.

"Ahh! Wahait! Wait!"

Three shifted behind the oldest and started digging into random tickle spots. Meanwhile, his other arm wrapped around Peter 1's waist before digging into the dip in his waist.

Peter 2 snorted and squealed as Three's hand attacked his stomach. From what he could hear, One wasn't fairing any better.

Peter 3 shifted to rest near Peter 2's ear. "Tickie tickie big brother."

Two squealed. "NAAAHA! NAHAT THEHERE!"

"Aww, what's wrong? Big bwo got tickwish eaws?"

"SH-SHUHUSH!"

Before Three could continue, Peter 1 started scooting out from under Three's arm. "Where do you think you're going?"

Peter 1 hid his mouth behind his hands.

The middle Peter rolled so One and Two were side by side. "Muhuch better."

The squeals from before filled the room once again.

"Happy Sahaint's Pahatty's Day!" Three teased as he tickled his bros to bits.

The other two Peters could not respond over their own laughter.

After a few more rounds of regular tickles, Peter 3 switched to the nuzzle kiss technique. He used the technique as he moved along both of their faces. This turned both of the brothers into giggle wiggle worms with an ever growing blush on their face and ears. They didn't mind the extra affection at all. Peter 2 knew Three did it because he had so much love that he didn't know how to express.

So if that meant extra ticklish affection then they were okay with that.

After one final kiss to each of their foreheads, Peter 3 finally pulled away. "Behest holiday idea ehever!"

Peter 2 playfully shoved the middle brother. "Nehext tihime Ihi'm gehetting yohou!"

Three winked. "Just make suhure to wehear green to bed then."

The oldest Peter rolled his eyes as he shifted up. "Cohome ohon. Let's goho finish breakfast."

One started. "Weren't you making green eggs and ham Three?"

The tallest brother jumped to his feet and booked it to the kitchen. "Crap! I forgot!"

Peter 2 hopped to his feet before helping Peter 1 to his. "Come ohon, let's go make sure he doesn't buhurn the house down."

Once they were both up, Peter 1 and 2 raced downstairs. This was definitely turning out to be an interesting holiday.

[simblrnova]

ALSO Pay attention to these mf void babys one of our foster girlies had on St Patty's day. 5 in total. They're such a cute little cuddle puddle.

[rustbeltjessie]

Reasons I Am Not Working On My Novella Today

I sat down at my desk, wrote a few lines; a passage about The Alley and the coffin full of vintage pins. How you were supposed to pay for them—a quarter in the early days, fifty cents by the last time I visited—but I don’t think anyone ever did. And then I had to find the pins I stole all those years ago, as research (I said to myself). All those one-inch badges for punk and new wave bands. Blondie, Buzzcocks. The Clash, The Cramps, Tom Robinson Band. Those pins are mostly older than I am, and I’ve had them since the end of the last century; the metal backs are tarnished, the images stained, peeling. All the old songs stuck in my head, a scratched record playing a single groove, as I sifted through my bag of badges. I pulled them out one by one, found myself lost in other places, other moments, a sea of words and pictures once cultural signifiers, now significant only to my memory project. I stuck my finger on one which was not fastened, pricked myself on that rusted spindle of the past, and I got timesick.

A memory came; sudden, unbidden. Of a drive from Chicago to Michigan, late November, maybe December. Passing through a slivered crescent of Indiana, cupping the lakeshore, the smokestacks of Gary cinereous, up past the dunes, crossing the stateline, the New Buffalo Welcome Center with its tiny ersatz lighthouse, say yes. Yes, heading further into Michigan, the northeast curve of I-94, the surge of the hills heavy with snow, the woody, gnarled fingers of winter-dormant grapevines. All those vineyards in West Michigan, near St. Joe, Benton Harbor, Coloma. And the sun setting off to the west, over that inland sea, disparate streaks of orange and peach commingling into gold-limned coral, the last light before the long night reflecting, lurid, a starshot wound, upon the hills and snow.

Break off from I-94 at Marshall, continue north/east on I-69, and eventually you’ll reach Flint. My childhood; the earliest place I remember enough to call home. The children of Flint, the people of Flint, still are drinking leaded water. My childhood no idyll, but I had clean water. My childhood, not idyllic, but now I remember Flint in flashes, three-dimensional images in full-color Kodachrome turning through the ViewMaster of my mind. Click: the bruisy, rose-vanilla dusk inside the lilac bushes in our backyard; the stale-penny smell left on palms and fingers after playing for hours on jungle gyms, monkey bars. Click click. Sticky swirls of strawberry & cream cheese oozing from oven-warm croissants at John K.’s bakery. The thagomizic glass spines of Autoworld, a Godzilla-sized misstep, a fossilized monument to Flint’s failing industry.

How hard it is to raise children in this ever-failing world. How the water is full of lead, schools leaded with bullets & disease.

Today is my oldest son’s birthday. My son, a vessel of noise; the bleepbop of the video games he plays, the stories he hums as he runs back and forth and back across the house. Today I found a Valentine’s Day project from back when he was in school, where each classmate wrote down what they liked about each other. The ones for my son read: I like you because you make cool noises. I like you because you play video games. I like you because your favorite color is light blue. Oh my little boy blue, my humming baby blue-boy. How many years I spent worried no one would like him, his sounds, obsessions, only to find those were the very things they liked most.

Today is my oldest son's birthday, and he requested a big breakfast. I spent the late half of morning baking biscuits, toasting hashbrown patties, frying up bacon and chicken-apple sausage, making omelets thick and gooey with tomatoes off the vine, green onions, spinach, colbyjack cheese. I fell into a breakfast reverie, a diner daydream. Fat scent of butter and eggs, coffee strong and black and steaming in the pot, sizzlepop of meat in the skillet; I could makebelieve I was in a place all griddle and chrome, walls grease-stained and hung with old records by Buddy Holly, The Big Bopper, Frankie Lymon & The Teenagers.

As I diced and fried, I listened to a jazz playlist. “Peace Piece” piano swelled up around me, a lonesome meditation, and then another memory. Of a boy I once loved, who knew how I loved that piece, and one Christmas tracked down the sheet music for me. He gave me a painting, too. His heart splattered on a canvas, a heart so blue, floating in a pastoral sea of violet-gray. I thanked him for the ornamented melody line, I shunned his painted heart.

He often said things to me, unintentionally cruel things, so I cut right back. Cruel, on purpose. A month point five post-Christmas, I broke (up with) him on Valentine’s Day. He cried for two hours, while I watched, aghast, said nothing. Harsh or sweet. I hadn’t meant to hurt him, that time. I only knew I needed out.

And oh the cruelties we visit upon each other’s hearts; accidental, with purpose. Oh, the undulations of our affections.

There I was, “Kind of Blue,” and Miles Davis on the playlist, too. I remembered: nights at the Jazz Showcase, place of legends; gin martinis and the infamous table Miles once set fire to. Thought of angels jazzing over the Loop, legendary bop angels, hark the dark heralds with their trumpets, setting fire to the night, its sea of stars.

More jazz and I got ready to make art. Donned my tomato-red beret and felt self-consciously arty, had to take some self-portraits to commemorate it, daddy-o. Baby, oh, I remembered my art and writing room from that flat in Bayview, and the vintage kimono I owned. A silky thing, butter-yellow, a dragon and flowers embroidered abloom upon the back. How I’d wear it while snapping photos of myself; myself writing poems or jazzing on my ukulele or draped across the futon, smoking expensive cigarettes from a chintzy plastic holder. How it caressed me like a lover, how I felt beautiful whenever I had it on. What I wouldn’t give to have that feeling back.

A different playlist; this one of piano and accordion en français, and I cried, my tears viscous, Gallic, remembering another room, this one in Brooklyn. Remembered the boy I loved there, who would squeezebox-serenade me with valses. Un deux trois mornings we fucked in the gray gloom, three nights starshot with white powder and we sat by the open window holding cigarettes (Galouise, or hand-rolled) between our yellow-stained fingers, watching the drip of snowmelt on fire escape and past that the wind blowing the trashcans across the brickwalled alleys.

In the midst of tears of memory, I drew a crow. Spent an hour or more getting the shading just-so; layering bluish-gray over dark gray over black, over ultramarine, over cobalt. And oh the crows outside my window, and the weather so bitten-cold. November. The sky gray, clouds alluvial, loops and scallops etched into the silt.

Gray, cold, and I wanted a hot toddy. Mixed ginger tea, bourbon, clover honey, squeeze of lemon, drank it while feeling the weight of time, the press of the squeezed and undulating years. Then time to make dinner. Stirred pots of cranberry and rosemary, orange smiles of butternut squash salted with maple syrup and coriander seed-beads. As it cooked I checked Facebook and saw another new book by a poet oh, so much younger and wondered, as I always do, why not me? Wondered if they’ve had more opportunities, or worked harder, or if they’re just better, oh. This envious jealousy I choke on is a sour apple, a shriveled grape from a dormant vine that makes the bitterest wine.

It doesn't improve my poetry, or write my lines, or bring any opportunities. And all the success in the world won’t stave off death. I remembered that when Low came on the radio, Mimi’s clarion angelvoice singing. I don't need a laser beam. Rest your drunken mind. I remember the last time I visited Duluth/Superior, that time I went north to chase the autumn and run from love. How I scaled that rusted out-of-use railroad trestle with my squeezebox in hand and sang a lullaby to the captains of industry and the inland sea.

And now I lay me down to sleep on the banks of another, sick with remembering. Goodnight starshot voices, goodnight angels. Old songs, old rust, accordion waltzes. Fingers of smoke and pennies, bourbon and the sky, goodnight. Goodnight all the cruel rooms, the boys, and all. Of the time.

—Jessie Lynn McMains, 11/13/22

[maroonghoul]

Horror Movies I just watched: June 2023

I only have two movies this time, though one’s an anthology.

Knife+Heart I chose this one for pride month. Good choice too, because I can confirm this easily the gayest slasher/giallo movie I’ve ever seen, for content alone. Seriously, all the sexual subtext in all other slasher movies ever made is just TEXT here. I’m not sure I can ever go back. Every film from here on in I’m going to think the filmmakers are cowards for not letting at least one victim die by dildo. 

But, in all seriousness, I think I got what they were going for in the killer’s motive. Not just that he found their previous film triggering, but it would’ve been easy to have the killer be just a bigot, some closeted self-hating gay, or (god help us) someone taking revenge because gay people killed his parents or something stupid like that.

What we have is a person scarred and traumatized in a situation similar and common to sadly, a large number of people, especially in the LGBTQIA+ demographic. What’s twisted is that it is so common that a lot of people this has happened too or came close to it happening too all react and process it in very different ways. (I think it’s common in the movie, not that they heard about this incident already. That’s the theory I took away from this) You would find people who think back on their parent having a violent reaction to them being secretly gay and can make peace with it through a light porn film. Not because they’re a sociopath or weak-willed. But because anything more connected to harsh reality (and lacking any sexual release or expression) might make them run from it and impede development. 

But the characters in the film were so comfortable in that shared viewpoint bubble of this specific trauma they forgot there could be someone with a very justifiable alternative outlook on it, so they’ve become another tormentor to him. So now, one member of the community attacks other in it because he was feeling excluded, and rather impersonally to boot. Which makes the circumstances that finally did get him killed the final tragic icing on the sad cake. Other gay men lashing out on him in self defense, just as he thought he was doing throughout the story.

This was probably the smartest and most genuinely tragic reveal for a motivation they could have gone with. So kudos for that.

Also, makes this a weirdly good double feature with Across the Spiderverse, of all things. I know that sound crazy, but they’re both movies about an individual being excluded to from a group of people he’s connected with because of strife over what’s the appropriate amount of trauma for them. Just a shower thought.

Holidays (2016) I was waiting for the best day to watch this, so I chose Father’s Day both because I was having trouble coming up with one for that day otherwise and I head that segment was one of the better ones. Was it? Well...

Valentine’s Day Carrie if it was less Stephen King and more Tales from the Crypt. This one just left me with questions though. Were they picking on her for the same reasons as with Carrie White, hence “Maxi Pad”? The hell’s her home life like where she can just go from bullied to murdering for love like that? Does she even know if the bully’s heart is compatible with her coach? I feel like this is a reason why Carrie wasn’t a short story or why most revenge stories of this length are a touch less complicated then this. This just felt messy to me.

St. Patrick’s Day Well, if you had to do a horror movie St Patty’s Day themed without the obvious choice, killer leprechaun, something that calls back to the roots of the holiday make sense. Not entirely sure what this woman did to deserve this, but hey, fae folk follow their own rules like that. I kinda liked that she was either in denial or past caring that her baby is a snake monster, she just wants a child damnit. She certainly seemed past caring at the end. Maybe if the first half was as exaggerated as the end, I would’ve liked it more. 

Easter Another that left me with questions, though I think that’s the idea. This bunny monster is such a weird gross sacrilegious thing, I’m surprised that wasn’t more of an uproar about it. Though I guess it’s point is that it’s more supposedly child-friendly side makes Easter one of the weirdest holidays we got. I’m never going get Easter Jesus Bunny Monster’s Oh face from his side scar being fingered out of my head for a while.

Mother’s Day This was where I started to fall asleep. Good thing this is the type of movie you can watch in chunks. This one has a lot in common with the St. Patty’s day one, and none of that is in it’s favor. Woman is hyper fertile so she goes to folk hippie wellness compound who try to heal her and instead make her give birth to an abomination. And all I’m left thinking is; Why? I thought shortness was about getting to the point, not cutting the point out.

Father’s Day This has probably the best build up of any of these, even if the ending is weak. I liked the premise of the main character’s dad leaving her a record detailing step by step where she can find him again. Understandable motive for our lead combined with tension that builds literally step by step. I find it a bit weird where he took her the exact same route when she was little and he just focusing on recording the whole time like a jerk instead of just focusing on her daughter. I guess the idea was that her in the present would find all this familiar so it’s be easier to soldier on. Though wouldn’t it make more sense he just sent her a message saying “remember when I took you to X?” and we actually have the same journey being played twice? One what we actually saw and the other’s a flashback showing the two of them going down this, comparing and contrasting the two settings? And at the end? Aliens? This open-endedness is getting on my nerves. I got that deadbeat dads aren’t worth it, I just wanted to know why this one wasn’t precisely. It feels like a half baked metaphor.

Halloween This was the most forced of the theming. It’s one of those times I have more issues with the style then the substance. Yeah yeah, three women plotting against a man is like witches. But I would’ve preferred either actual supernatural witching stuff or hey, given the set up, go all in on ripping off Saw. Weird how the a-hole customer that started this got off easy, but hey, f the pimp too. Maybe the way I’d do it is to cut the beginning, start with him waking up with the dildo in  his ass, and the extra time is spent them disposing the body. And hey, given the holiday, make it so it’s in one of those decoration displays. I don’t know why the segment attributed to the actual spooky holiday is the least spooky of them, but I guess they were going for subverting expectations. 

Christmas So this is as close to us getting Seth Green in a Black Mirror episode. Still, it’s a good little character study in to what the people closest to us would do if they could get away with it, even if the technology is quite fantastical. I even liked the ambiguity of the ending, even it personally I would’ve twisted the knife more and shown her walk in acting possibly normal and him being skittish. But maybe I’m just stretching now.

New Year’s Another one where my only problem is that it ended too soon. Incel serial killer finally meeting his end, getting a taste of his own medicine by his female counterpart. That’s a fun twist but the structure is weird to me. We see him kill, go on another date, prepare to kill again, see that she’s a killer, then they fight until he loses and dies. Not bad, but it would’ve hit me more where the twist came later and she surprised him without a fight. Or they realized they’re very similar, hook up for real, but now literally slay together? Or hell, keep the fight, but go full on looney tunes cartoon about it tone wise so the gun having no bullet hits more?

I just found that the style of filmmaking of these segments don’t work for me. Sure, I could cut them slack because it was clear they didn’t have a lot of money. But I didn’t even believe most of them used it well. It feels like a lot of them don’t know what to keep in and what to leave out. And the pacing in each is way off in different ways. They’re short so I’m not stuck with them long, but but I feel a few minutes fleshing out the things I mentioned in each of them could’ve made them stronger. This was rough.

[dnightshade0]

Two little budgiekins ready for Saint Patricks day!

Did up my little babies up for st. patty’s day. Gotta wear green or you get pinched.

But as I was about to put on limon’s green necklace, I realized…

She’s already wearing green XD lol