#that was 4 days later. which is not bad at all. but then they demanded i have the forms back to them within 3 working days???

[calangolengo]

Some headcanons that I think about a lot for Mute!Stan:

1. He didn't stop talking right away, it was a gradual process. Each year he spoke less, which got him into less trouble as a criminal, he had to do horrible things to himself to control his tongue and speak softly, he was yelled at a lot on the streets to shut up.

2. He learned some sign language on the street, but he wasn't fluent so he still had to speak sometimes.

3. When he got Ford's card he was barely speaking anymore, talking to his brother was one thing since his voice had been out of use for months already.

4. After Ford falls into the portal, Stan organizes his own funeral, his mother almost recognizes his voice because it was very different from Ford's at this point, so he decides to stop talking completely. People saw this as a response to the trauma of losing his brother so they didn't talk much about it.

5. Stan still opened the Mystery Shack, but without the guided tours. He simply made it more like a museum. He placed a speaker in front of each strange object where he recorded some descriptions of the creatures in advance, alone, at night.

6. He spread several speakers throughout the cabin with price information and random curiosities. As well as a larger speaker that constantly repeated that they did not accept refunds at the Mystery Shack.

7. The tours were created by Soos. As a child, he would visit the cabin with his grandmother and, since she was bad with the speakers, he would invent descriptions of the objects himself, which always gathered a small crowd around him who bought many more things on the way out. Stan hired him almost immediately.

8. Soos quickly learned sign language to talk to Stan and later taught Wendy, who also went to work there.

9. The kids learned sign language at home when they learned they were going to stay with their estranged great uncle who they had only heard about and who was apparently mute. It was a challenging project for them. Dipper learned it to challenge himself academically and Mabel learned it because it was fun to use a secret language and also because she thought it was like creating spells with her hands. They weren't very good, but they managed well.

10. When the portal is reactivated, Mabel is still left with the decision of whether to turn it off or not and for the first time in years Stan speaks and asks her not to turn it down, which shocks everyone because they thought Stan was mute since birth.

11. Ford is not happy when he comes back and Stan doesn't talk to him, despite all his knowledge of sign language it was never something that caught his attention and he suspects that Stan is just doing it just to be a jerk.

12. The kids get upset with Stan for being able to talk all that time and refuse to acknowledge his sign language for the rest of the day, avoiding looking at his hands the whole time, Stan panics and basically Soos is the only one who makes communication between Stan and the others viable because he translates everything Stan says.

13. The kids talk to Stan again the next day because he seems miserable for not being able to talk to them and also because they are so used to this type of communication that they forget that they were ignoring him.

14. Ford is the hardest to accommodate; when he's not deliberately ignoring Stan, he tries to catch him off guard so he'll talk. At one point, an argument starts at night on the porch, demanding that his brother talk, which leads Stan to try to talk again, but can't because he's desperate and has a panic attack.

15. During Weirdmageddon, they still switch identities, with Stan speaking and acting exactly like Ford. Bill is tricked because he knows that one of the twins can't talk and ends up being erased with Stan's mind.

16. When his memory is erased, Stan starts talking again. It takes a while for his voice to come back because he didn't use it much. The children still use sign language while talking to him to try to bring his memories back. The scrapbook works little by little.

17. With each passing day, Stan remembers a little more and each day he talks less until, by the time Stan and Ford get on their boat, he has all his memory restored and has stopped talking completely again.

18. Stan speaks few words sometimes, he says his brother's name, a few words of comfort or a greeting, only to Ford and in a low tone of voice, it doesn't happen much but whenever it does it brings Ford to tears, he preserves each of these moments as treasures.

That's it for now, I've been thinking a lot about Mute Stan in the last few days and I wanted to express these thoughts a little, whoever wants to add more things or take over the narrative from here on out, feel free, the floor is open.

[fingertipsmp3]

This week has really been one of those that has me straight up not wanting to leave my house or contact anyone or do anything because something seems to go wrong with everything I do

[mockerycrow]

Soft Moments: Price Edition (GN!Reader)

john price masterlist

Summary: Random soft moments I thought of with the 141 (separately) <3 — mostly you taking care of them! This is PRICE’S SOFT MOMENT.

[WARNINGS: tooth-rotting fluff!]

John had stayed up all night to complete reports that were due in the morning; his eyes burned from the lack of sleep, his eyelids felt heavy, and his mouth was dry—which could have been from the cigars he smokes, but he also kept up on his water intake. He steps inside of his home, dropping his duffel bag to the side right next to the mud mat at the front door. John closes the door and locks it, a heavy sigh leaving his lips.

The exhaustion nips at his body bit by bit and he reads the time— 4:32 AM. He cringes, his lips pulling back as he stares into the darkness of his living room, contemplating why he hasn’t left the service yet because he will have to up in about an hour and a half. John unties his shoes and leaves them by the door, although he doesn’t bother to undress too much. He removes his coat and his hat, tossing it somewhere on the couch before he makes his way down the hall to your shared bedroom. John can’t see you, but once his fingers find you, he’s wrapping his arms around you and he falls into a deep slumber near immediately.

He wakes up—not from his alarm, but from you shaking him awake. He groans and fights to peel his eyelids open, and he’s so tired. His limbs feel like they’re being weighed down by anchors, but he manages to sit up and look at you. You look back at him and cup his cheek, pressing a kiss against his forehead. “Good morning, John,” You mumble. “You got home late, huh?” His eyes fall back to being closed and he lets out a quiet “mhm”, feeling your thumb brush against his cheekbone. He opens his eyes when he feels you get off of your shared mattress, and you grab his hand. “Come on, I’ll help you shave today.”

John’s eyebrows raise for a split second in response, and you pull him out of bed. You stifle a laugh at how sluggish he seems—you feel bad because you know why he’s so tired, but your boyfriend who is usually so alert, so loving, is so exhausted—but he’s still loving. You lead him into the bathroom and you have sit on the closed toilet lid, and you rummage around for his shaving cream and razor. John fights every tired bone in his body to stay upright and awake, and he’s successful when he narrows his eyes at you. “Can I have a cuppa?” He utters, his tone lifting to indicate it’s a question. You put the razor and shaving cream on the sink counter and you glance at him, humor lacing your words. “Will you stay awake long enough for me to get it?”

John snorts and nods, which prompts you to swiftly leave the room. You return only a minute or two later with a steaming mug, and nudge a slumped over John with your foot. “Hmm?” He groans, sitting up as quickly as he can. “Liar.” You tease, holding out the mug to him. John hums noncommittally and he takes the mug from you and takes a gracious sip, and then he sets it on the sink counter as you lather your hands with his shaving cream. He lets out a long and slow sigh as you rub the shaving cream in the spots where he needs it, sparing his beloved mutton chops as silently requested. His stubble feels rough under your fingertips, but you ignore the feeling as you massage the cream into his skin.

John lets his eyes fall closed, enjoying the sensation of your fingers on his face, on his jaw, how careful you try to be with him, no matter what. You always try your best to help him out with anything because you know he has a demanding career, and you try to make it a bit easier for him—especially for when he gets home late on days like these. He has the urge to lick his dry lips, but he’s so tired to the point where even moving his tongue feels like the most intense chore he could do. Instead, he melts into your touches, focusing on the way your fingertips brushing against his face gives him goosebumps, how loving your touch is—

“John.” He clears his throat gently and makes a little “hm?” noise like before, and he hears your quiet laugh. “You were falling asleep on me.” You whisper, slowly dragging the razor in a downwards motion, cutting his stubble. “I’m quite tired, love.” John responds, voice groggy and slurry. He hasn’t even bothered to open his eyes and you roll your eyes with a smile on your face, and you press a soft, loving kiss to his temple which he leans into. “I know, John,” You murmur. “I know.”

[novalpha]

𝑆𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑝𝑠 𝐹𝑖𝑐 𝑅𝑒𝑐𝑠

♡ Fluff || ୨୧ Angst || ★ Smut || ꗃ SMAU || ⌗ Series || ✿ Drabble || ♤ Mature (No smut) || ✹ Humor

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Tomorrow tonight ୨୧♤♡ -> @cheolbooluvr

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Push it down (Sooner or later it all comes out) ♡★⌗✹ -> @dontflailmenow

summary: thirsting over your ex’s best friend in general is a bad idea. given that you and seungcheol have never gotten along, it’s even worse. when you accidentally stumble across his stream, though, and he finds out? all bets are off.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ After Class ★⌗-> @rubyreduji Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4

summary: Professor Choi makes sure to always take care of your needs after class.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Down bad (so so bad) ♡★ -> @lovelyhan

summary: it’s not like you’re curious about how the word would taste in your mouth whenever seungcheol calls himself daddy while talking to kkuma. nope. definitely not. 

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Wedding night ♡★ -> @onlyhuis

Synopsis: seungcheol just wants to treat his wife right on their first night together as husband and wife.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Bite that lip ♡୨୧★ -> @beahae

Summary: Seungcheol knows you're really close with his whole friend group. But now that things have... quietly been developing between the two of you, he would love it if you'd cool it with the heavy flirting with the other guys.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Amortentia ♡୨୧ -> @http-mianhae

DESCRIPTION ᝰ Being head-over-heels for the Gryffindor captain is harder than it seems, especially when everyone knows about your little crush on Seungcheol and he takes it lightly. Until when you’re partnered up and forced to be in each other’s lives on a daily basis, that’s when things take a bit of a turn

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ BIG COCK: for dummies ♡★ -> @ncteez

summary: the one where you find out that your boyfriend has a huge cock and you’re not entirely sure if you can take all of it. 

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ She's in the rain ୨୧ -> @onlymingyus

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Crossing Boundaries ♡★ -> @wonusite

summary: ❝ Seungcheol has always demanded that all of his employees keep professional boundaries, but it frustrates him that his son’s nanny is a little too good at keeping things professional. ❞

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Driving me crazy ★-> @1-800-hwahui

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ laundry and jiu jitjsu ♡✹ -> @cheolism

summary: after seungcheol leaves the laundry unfolded on your bed before going to his jiu jitsu lesons, you decide to take action.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Terrifyingly innocent ♡୨୧★ -> @twogyuu

Synopsis: Fearful of losing her, yet unwilling to leave; this agreement between Seungcheol and his best friend’s little sister was meant to be casual and temporary, yet he finds himself growing more attached to her day by day.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ inflection point ♡୨୧★ -> @lovelyhan

summary: you love yoon jeonghan. no, scratch that. you fucking adore yoon jeonghan; so much that the moment he asks you to be in an exclusive set-up with his current partner, you accept the offer in a heartbeat. what you fail to consider, however, is who your boss’ boyfriend actually is.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Hello tutorial ♡♤✹ -> @97-liners

it’s your final year of college, and you’ve been elected president of your sorority. this is all great and fine, but as the semester goes on, you find yourself having repeated run-ins with the president of the fraternity next door in a series of unfortunate coincidences (that might not actually be coincidences, as you come to discover).

or

in which you’re trying to deal with your crush on seungcheol in a normal way, but the meddling kids are making it harder than it needs to be.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Found you ୨୧♡ -> @thedensworld

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ In the eye of the beholder ୨୧♡★ -> @cheolism

summary: when you don't like how you look in the mirror, your boyfriend decides to take it upon himself to worship you.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Frozen cold proposal ♡ -> @cheolism

summary: seungcheol is stubborn and decides to try and make soup over the fire. you stumble upon a surprise in his pockets when trying to huddle against him for warmth.

[ More Scoups fic recs will be updated ]

Want more Seventeen fic recs? -> Click here

[margojacksonpotter]

Parts in Mockingjay book that should have been in the movie:

-Katniss really disliked living underground at 13. She felt claustrophobic and missed being outdoors and hunting. She never followed the schedule to train and just hid in supply closets and took naps. If anyone tried to question this, she’d show them her medical bracelet and tell them she’s mental.

- Katniss and Annie traveled from 13 to 12 with Katniss’ prep team to find Annie a wedding dress in her house in Victor’s Village. Katniss’ wedding dresses were sent back to the Capitol but she still had a few dresses from the Victory tour. Annie chose a green one. Katniss says Annie laughs at wrong times in a conversation and drifts off mid sentence but Finnick likes her so she does too.

- Peeta decorated Finnick and Annie’s wedding cake. It was part of his therapy after getting hijacked. He decorated it with blue and green waves for their district.

-Johanna and Katniss’ friendship: Johanna wanted to fight in Capitol with the Katniss and Finnick. She and Katniss were deemed too “mentally unstable” to fight. They had to start at the lowest level in training and work their way up to the top. They were even roommates for a while. Katniss noticed Johanna avoided showers and was scared of training outside in the rain. She later finds out Johanna developed a fear of water after being tortured in the Capitol by being waterboarded and electrocuted.

- Katniss was mad that Peeta was sent to fight in the Capitol so she calls Haymitch. Haymitch gives her the ultimate reality check, delivering the best line in the series: “I think it's time you flipped this little scenario around in your head. If you'd been taken by the Capitol, and hijacked, and then tried to kill Peeta, is this the way he would be treating you?” demands Haymitch. I fall silent. It isn't. It isn't how he would be treating me at all. He would be trying to get me back at any cost”.

- In the last part of the training, Johanna and Katniss go through a combat stimulation in which the person must face their greatest weakness. Katniss’ weakness was taking orders (no surprise). In Johanna’s stimulation, she faced a flood, had a flash back and panicked. She was sent back to the hospital and wasn’t allowed to the Capitol. To make her feel better, Katniss combined pine tree needles with a bandage to make a sort of fragrance bundle. Johanna said it smelled like home. 🥹

- After the silver parachutes bombs and Prim’s death, Katniss was also affected by the fire. Her skin became discolored and patchy. Peeta was also at the Capitol Circle during the bombing and was burnt as well. He and Katniss have burn scars all over their bodies that never fully go away.

-After the bombing, Katniss is described as a mental “Avox”, refusing to speak for weeks after her sisters death.

-All the stylist and prep team of the Hunger Games were assassinated, with the exception of Effie and Katniss’ prep team. The victors of the Hunger Games were killed as well except for the ones who were imprisoned in the Capitol and saved by District 13.

- The bombs decorated as silver parachutes to m@rder Capitol children was Plutarch’s idea. A Gamemaker’s touch as President Snow described. Plutarch was just as bad as Coin. He thought it made for “good television”

-After Katniss murdered Coin, she was kept in the Training Center for weeks till they figured out what to do with her. She considered s@uicide many times, either by overdosing or refusing to eat. She wouldn’t speak and sang to herself constantly. All the songs her father taught her. After the war ended, Plutarch asked her if she wanted to be a part of a singing competition he was televising in 4.

-Katniss and Peeta wrote a book about all the people they knew and details about them: Primrose, Cinna, Finnick, Peeta’s dad. Peeta drew the pictures. Haymitch helped them too, giving them information about the tributes he was forced to mentor. They plan on reading the book to their children one day.

-What happened to District 12: Hundreds of people left 13 to go back home to 12. They began finding bodies in the rubble and burying them. Madge and her family were found dead. A large hole was made in the Meadow to bury them. Then people began rebuilding the town. With the mines closed, a factory was built from the Capitol to make medicine.

[msbigredmachine]

New To This - Chapter 4

MASTERLIST

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

The alarm on her phone had never sounded so loud before. Ever. It was a battle for Delilah to untangle herself from the sheets, grope around the bed for the pesky phone and disable the offensive sound. Cracking one eye open, then cringing at how bright the phone screen was, she glanced at the time and groaned. Five-thirty already? Jesus.

Throwing the sheets off of herself, Delilah struggled to blink her eyes against the darkness as she ran down her mental morning checklist, which mainly consisted of excuses to remain in the comfort of her bed. She’d been doing so ever since she began her training as a wrestler, but no matter how she tried, nothing seemed to be ever good enough, especially when she had two jobs awaiting her each day. And speaking of…the feel of the air conditioning against her skin reminded her that the light bill had to be paid in some form or the other, and soon.

Rolling out of bed, she winced as her feet touched the floor. The smoke had cleared and every muscle in her body now ached from her match the night before. Every ache would be worth it though, if she could experience the same exhilarating feeling she did in the aftermath – the applause, the plaudits, the attention. She only wished her husband-to-be didn’t have to fuck it all up last night by bringing her crashing back down to earth.

In all honesty, inviting Tank and Jey to her home after her match  had been a deliberate act on her part. Part of her had wanted Andre to be happy for her, and to realize that other people supported her. But deep down, another part just wanted revenge for all of the late-night boys’ nights he and his friends had shared while she herself was trying to get some rest. She really wanted to feel guilty for being selfish and retaliating, but after the way he’d disrespected her last night, feeling bad was a hard sell for her right now.

She tensed up when she heard the bathroom door open. His footsteps were soft and cautious, and as he appeared in front of her looking haggard in ragged jeans and a flannel shirt, he was rubbing his hand over his face. “Mornin’,” he mumbled, raising his tired eyes to hers and cringing at her angry expression. “Look…about last night,” he started.

“Ugh, here we go,” she rolled her eyes, wincing a little as she hauled her aching body off the bed and stood upright.

Andre followed her every move, his shoulders sagged dejectedly. “Babe, I’m tryna apologize here.”

“Oh really! Apologize for what exactly?” she demanded, “Not being there for me, or humiliating me in front of the two people who cared enough to come see my match, one of whom, by the way, is a big name in the company I could only dream of being a part of one day. Which is it, huh?”

“Dee, come on…”

Shaking her head, she turned and limped out of the bedroom and toward the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator, grabbing ingredients to set about making a sandwich for herself. None for Andre, hell no. She was more than mad at him right now. Plus, he was capable of fixing his own breakfast.

She heard footsteps a few minutes later, and out of the corner of her eye, she could see Andre approaching the kitchen cautiously. He stood next to her, his sheepish expression a stark contrast to her irritated one. “Baby, I’m sorry. I was a dick,” he began, not taking his eyes off of her. “I was tired and cranky and wasn’t thinking rationally. Please forgive me.”

Delilah felt her stomach plummet when she noticed his bottom lip quivering. He knew what that did to her. He pinned her with those heartbreaking brown eyes of his, which shone with emotion, and she felt her heart thaw just a little bit. Sighing, she grabbed a couple of bread slices to make another sandwich. Shaking her head, she said, “I knew you’d be in bed, tired from work. I shouldn’t have brought them here so late.”

Squinting against the harsh fluorescent light overhead, Andre’s brows furrowed. “So that was the Jey Uso guy, huh?” Delilah nodded, handing him his sandwich as he cringed. “He’s a big dude.”

The wrestler-in-training took a bite of her sandwich, considering the goofy expression on his face and marveling at how attractive he was right at this moment. “He is. And probably pissed off too,” she added. “But don’t worry, I’ll see if I can work something out with him and Tank,” she winked.

“Yeah, I’d appreciate it,” Andre chuckled. From there, a comfortable silence reigned as the couple settled down to have breakfast, each of them stealing secretive glances when the other wasn’t looking. Again, all seemed to be well. The calm manner in which they settled conflicts was something they’d both come to recognize as a key component of their relationship. Sometimes though, Delilah wished she knew how to remain angry with him. Maybe that way, he’d take her more seriously and stop shoving things under the rug like he tended to do a lot.

“So, two hundred dollars, huh? That’s a lot of money you made last night,” Andre commented, wiping stray mayonnaise from his mouth with the corner of his sleeve. “Any idea on how you’re gonna spend it?”

She did have an idea, but she was a bit surprised that he was asking. “Well, I split it in two; one part should be enough for the light bill,” she explained, “I confirmed that the deposit for the hall we’re renting for the wedding is covered, so we good on that front. I’m goin’ grocery shopping after my shift. It’ll be fresh foods for us this time, no canned stuff,” she added with a grin. “And if you’re lucky enough, Mr. Gibson, you might just get a nice, juicy steak for dinner.“

Licking his lips, Andre rubbed his hands together. "Hmm, that sounds like a plan, my love,” he said, checking his watch, then grabbing his car keys from the counter and moving towards his wife-to-be. Delilah was taken by surprise as he scooped her lips with his, seemingly determined to savor her delicious taste before he ventured off for the day. 

“I love you, babe,” he murmured against her lips, his calloused hands leaving her slender waist to squeeze her backside. “It’s Dee & Dre forever, you know that right?”

Delilah squealed lightly, pushing him away and handing him his backpack. “I love you too. Dee & Dre forever,” she repeated, grinning when he kissed her one more time. She watched as he headed towards the front door. Then, he stopped and turned, a small smile on his gorgeous face.

“I’m glad you did well last night. This wrestling thing might not be so bad, ya know,” he said, the sincerity in his eyes making Delilah swoon inside.

“Thanks,” she accepted the compliment with a blush, staring at the door as it shut behind him. Clearly Andre was having a change of heart. Maybe he would come around after all.

By the time she finished cleaning up the kitchen, Delilah’s body was crying out for her bed. She had only a few more hours to get some sleep before she had to be at the grocery store for her first job of the day. As her head hit her bed once again, she dreamed of replacing her rather meager paycheck for the much larger one she was guaranteed to receive as a WWE Superstar.

Seven a.m. rolled around faster than five did, and this time, it was the ringing of her phone that woke her up. Groggy and annoyed, she answered. “Hello?”

“Mornin’ baby girl. Did I wake you?”

Squinting, Delilah stared at the unidentified number on her phone, wracking her still sleepy brain for the owner of the deep, unfamiliar baritone voice. Putting her phone back to her ear, she demanded, “Who is this?”

“Damn girl, did you lose my number already?” the deep, yet soft voice responded teasingly. 

Heaving a sigh of relief as her brain finally sparked to life, Delilah slumped back against the pillows. "Jesus, Josh. You kinda scared me. What’s with the sexy creepy mystery voice this early in the morning?”

"Hmm, you think I’m sexy, huh?”

The mischievous tone of his voice reemerged, and Delilah shook her head and sighed. “Homie, I said sexy and creepy,” she reminded him. “That ain’t no compliment. That’s like being compared to a stalker. Or a serial killer.”

This time, Josh laughed out loud. “What the fuck kinda analogy is that? I ain’t never had no female compare me to a stalker before, or a serial killer for that matter,” he said.

“Yeah, well, you sound like that, so think about that next time you go around making wake up calls with no warning,” she retorted. 

“Everything okay?” Josh questioned, his previous playful tone morphing into concern. “You sound a lil' agitated.”

There were a lot of reasons to be agitated. Like for one, why he was calling her so early in the morning. If Andre would take kindly to another man hitting her up like this. After a brief moment of silence, along with her sleepy brain finally catching up with events, she replied, “I’m fine. So, is there a reason you’re calling or was it just to scare me shitless?“

"There’s a reason, sweetheart, take it easy,” Josh responded.

“Spit it out then.”

“Dee, relax, damn,” he reprimanded her softly. “You ever watched a WWE pay-per-view live before?”

She walked around the bedroom, getting her things ready for the day. “What, like on cable? Many times, yeah. Why?”

Josh chuckled. “A’ight, let me rephrase that. I meant have you ever been to a live event before? Like in an arena or a stadium?”

“No. Never. I had a few chances as an adult but I was always busy.” In reality, she couldn’t afford to go. Her limited income was always eager to remind her how expensive tickets were. She couldn’t even afford to give away ten dollars a month for the WWE Network. She always recalled the year 2018 with a hint of sadness. WrestleMania 34 had been only a three-hour drive from Pensacola, but the tickets were much too steep to even think of making that drive. The show ended up being one of the more memorable Manias, and it was one of the numerous times she regretted her and Andre’s financial difficulties.  

“Raw is in Panama City in two weeks,” the Samoan informed her. “I was wondering if you would be interested in attending. You and your fiancé of course,” he added quickly, as though to prevent her from getting the wrong idea. “Both o’ y’all will be there as my guests.”

Delilah stopped in her tracks, trying to digest this tantalizing offer. “Wait, really? You’re inviting us personally?”

“Why not? I thought it’d be something you’d wanna see.”

“I totally do. That’s so kind of you. I gotta talk to Dre first, but I’d love to be there. Definitely.”

“Great, I’ll make the arrangements for the tickets,” Josh responded, and she noticed the relief in his voice. “Well, I’ll let you get back to your beauty sleep,” he went back to teasing her, “I look forward to seeing you in two weeks, Delilah.”

Fuck. The way he said her name though. She thought back to the way the L’s rolled off his tongue whenever he pronounced them, in such a seductively lethal manner, coupled with the sensual twinkle in his eye…

Suddenly she felt a little heated and flushed, despite the air-conditioning. Willing away the fluttering in her chest, she gripped her phone a little tighter. “Can’t wait. Take care,” she whispered, mumbling a goodbye and hanging up. She breathed deeply and tilted her head up, lost in thought. That was done. Now all she had to do was convince Andre that they could afford to spend a few days in Panama City. But more importantly, convince herself that she was only looking forward to the live event in two weeks and nothing else.

————-

Thoughts?

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[arlowthenacho]

꧁༺ 𝓱𝔂𝓭𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝓸𝓻 𝓭𝓲𝓮-𝓭𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓮 ༻꧂

(spencer reid x reader/platonic!bau x reader)

summary: spencer isn’t drinking enough water when you’re away on a case. you call him, the team hears, chaos ensues.

warnings: fluffy! set in early s5, mention of getting shot, use of y/n, some cursing, pet names (baby, babe, sweetheart), intended lowercase. if i missed any, please let me know!

a/n: hi there! this is my first fic, so rlly any interaction/feedback is appreciated! this is also extremely self indulgent, but enjoy! the ending is kinda shit, apologies 🙇‍♀️

the soft rustling of paper and the quiet buzz of chatter is all that can be heard on the plane. the team had been presented a new case and have been flying for about an hour. they had been filling the silence by going over the details of the case, chatting with each other, or in your case, trying to convince your boyfriend to take a goddamn sip of water.

“spencer, for the love of god, i’m not asking you to throw your coffee machine out the window! please, take but a sip of water, i beg of you!” you’re practically hissing into the phone, trying to keep your voice down and failing miserably.

“y/n, im fine, i swear! i’ll just drink some later, i’m just really busy-” spencer’s reply comes out slightly crackly through the phone. he had been shot in the leg on a recent case and was not cleared to travel, therefore being left in penelope’s care, and only being able to communicate through phone calls.

“i left you a bottle of water on pen’s desk, it’s literally right in front of you!” you can hear emily snickering in the background and give her a half-hearted glare.

“yeah, pretty boy, why don’t you drink your water?” derek decides to chime in, a smug look plastered on his face. you shoot him a glare and whack his arm. “ow!”

you roll your eyes at derek’s whining and go back to your conversation with spencer.

“spence, please. just finish one bottle of water and then i’ll let you off the hook.” your tone is teetering on begging him and demanding him. at this point, the entire team can hear your conversation and are all snickering not-so-discreetly.

“spencer, please just listen to y/n. i don’t want to listen to this for another 4 hours.” this time, it’s rossi who interrupts you. his tone is so serious it’s funny.

spencer blushes a bright red on the other end and you can hear penelope teasing him relentlessly.

“ok, ok, fine! i’ll finish the water. happy?” his reply comes out in a high-pitched voice, clearly showing his embarrassment.

“very. thank you, spence,” he can hear the smile in your voice as you say your goodbyes and hang up the phone.

pretty much immediately after the fact, emily pipes up.

“you guys are so adorable it makes me ill,” she feigns annoyance by rubbing at her temples, concealing her smile quite terribly. you roll your eyes and go back to the file in front of you.

“that’s really unfortunate, em. feel better!” you teased, huffing out a chuckle.

“okay, the case?” hotch’s stern reply earns a groan from the rest of the team as your eyes drift back down to the folder in front of you.

you’re now a couple days into the case, and everything’s going to shit. you’re no closer to finding the scumbag of the month and the team is losing hope.

after a few seconds of thinking, you’re suddenly pulled out of your thoughts when your phone rings, spencer’s name lighting up the screen. you answer near immediately, holding the phone to your ear.

“spence? baby? you got some good news f’me?” a smile touches you’re lips as soon as you answer, standing up and walking to the evidence board.

“yes and no, which do you wanna hear first?” spencer’s biting his lip in excitement and vibrating in his chair.

“lets hear the bad news first, baby,” you deflate at his words, leaning your back against the nearest wall.

“well, the trail we though we had on the unsub went cold,” spencer winces when he hears you sigh. “but we found a relative, penelope’s sending the address right now,” your smile soon returns as you kiss the phone, making an obnoxious sound in the speaker.

“im kissing your lovely little brains spence, thank you!” you make a few more kissing noises before spencer talks again.

“um-thank you, y/n,” his cheeks are flushed and he stutters through his sentences, biting his lip and smiling. “i-uhm…i also…finished my water…” you can barely make out what he’s saying, his whispered words slurring together.

“what was that, sweetheart?”

“i-i finished…i finished the water you gave me,” he speaks a bit louder, enunciating his words slightly better. you light up at his confession, smiling so wide your cheeks ache.

“thats great, spence! im very proud of you,” you gush, positively beaming.

“th-thank you, y/n, really,” he’s blushing even more now, his stammering worsening by the second.

”of course, babe. now, i gotta go, but i’ll call you when i’m back at the hotel, ‘kay? love you spence, bye!” you wait until spencer says goodbye to hang up the phone, smiling like a kid on christmas day.

after a couple more days, the case was finally over. the criminal being caught and locked away.

the jet ride home was uneventful, other than some light chatter and a well-deserved nap.

***

you’re soon stepping off the jet, along with the rest of the team, and hailing a cab to take you back home. soon, someone pulls over and you hop into the backseat. you give the driver your address and pull out your phone to text spencer.

spencie poo 💌

im omw home right now, see you soon :)

his reply comes back almost immediately.

okay, see you then!

you snap your flip phone shut and wait the remaining few minutes to get to your house.

***

after about 10 minutes, the ride is finally over. you pay the cab driver and thank him for driving you before speeding over to the door of your apartment building. you open it and buzz yourself in, walking to the elevator and pressing the button to get to your floor.

after getting off the elevator, you pull out your keys and unlock your apartment, dropping your things and toeing off your shoes.

“spence? you in here?” you call out into the seemingly empty apartment, plopping down on the couch and feeling around for the remote.

“here, y/n! just a minute,”

after a few seconds, spencer comes out and sits down in the spot next to you. you immediately curl into his side and sigh in contentment and exhaustion.

“‘m so tired, spence…” your words slur together, the drowsiness in your voice highlighted.

“i know…this case was a rough one.” he wraps his arm around you, drawing lazy circles on your shoulder. you let out a soft groan and cuddle closer to him.

“y’know, you really need to drink more water,” you giggle, limp in his arms.

“yeah…i know…” he has a guilty look on his face as he leans down to kiss your hairline. “i did finish that bottle of water you left me though,” he laughs breathlessly.

“hmm, thats good. ‘m very proud, spencer.” you can barely process what he’s saying, even though your words are sincere.

“okay baby, lets get you to bed,” spencer effortlessly picks you up and makes the short walk to your bedroom, laying you down on the plush bed.

after making sure you’re comfortable, he climbs in next to you and turns off the light.

“i love you, spence.”

”i love you too, y/n.”

[asmodeauxx]

HEY HEY HI HI HDHDEJSJ MY BRAIN HAS BEEN TAKEN OVER BY UR ART (I am normal)

I don’t mean to come across rude or pushy btw (if I do) ANYWAYS

1. How old is Narinder and the Lamb in your au? I imagine like, ancient for Narinder, but how much time has passed since the canon story for our favorite cult leader?

2. Does the lamb use they/them pronouns? Regardless they give me MAJOR gender envy (compliment)

3. Is the mysterious floating eyeball god thingie going to show up? If they do, would that be a good or a bad thing? (They scary 💀)

4. Do we have an oficial name for “the lamb”? Bc I keep saying the lamb but like what do they/insert correct pronouns here go by?

5. How much power did Narinder keep from his godhood, if any at all?

6. Where exactly does this AU take place in the canon timeline? As in, like relics of the past and all that (if that makes sense 😭)

ANYWAYS I LOVE UR AU, SORRY IF ANY OF THESE QUESTIONS HAD OBV ANSWERS OR CANT BE ANSWERED BC IT’LL BE REVEALED LATER, HAVE A GOOD DAY ! : D

you have no idea how long i've been wanting to push these answers out,,,/pos

DDUP takes place around 40-50 years after the games ending, and which in turn starts at the beginning of Relics of The Old Faith! Their ages aren't properly estimated, but they are ranged! Narinder is ranging from 2000-3000 years old while the Lamb is a mere 300-400 years in comparison! (It took a long while for the Lamb to free Narinder)

2. The Lamb indeed does use they/them pronouns!

3. The Mystic Seller is scripted to show up (as evident of it starting at the beginning of Relics) but to say whether it's good or bad,,, up to your interpretation for now ;)

4. I indeed have an official name for the Lamb! Of course, I won't be able to share it now (only till plot demands such!)

5. Narinder kept a good chunk of his powers! (albeit not as strong as it used to be) he also got a handy new trick down his sleeve literally

This is a ref image I made on his powers that I've shown so far!

(i've posted this image before on my old acc but,, yknow,,,)

6. I hadn't realised this was a later question jhfdsh, but yeah! Takes place during Relics of The Old Faith!

[mbta-unofficial]

If your city is a Brand, it’s already too late

Long post time. What is it that drives gentrification? Also, what is gentrification? Is it when a city gets blue hair and pronouns? No, it probably already had those.

Gentrification is the result of concentration of wealth in the hands of business owners, including landlords, over and above the hands of residents.

Let’s start with rent. Rent, like any good, is priced according to the laws of supply and demand. Supply of available rental housing is primarily determined by construction costs and estimated return on investment for new construction, and property management costs and estimated return on investment for existing units.

Breaking that down a bit, the higher construction costs get the higher the rent needs to be to break even on new construction. Construction costs include labor (which can always go down but you want it high for moral and practical reasons), materials (highly variable depending on the project) and bureaucratic costs. A bureaucratic cost is a cost that is based on how projects fit into the legal and practical environment, and are usually non-negotiable. Dig Safe, a program which requires three days of surveying local records before breaking ground, is an example where the function is to prevent crews from flattening a neighborhood by puncturing a gas main. Environmental Impact Statements, Fire Codes, Habitability Guidelines, and other regulations increase costs to projects. These programs are good and need to exist, but do stop smaller projects from happening at all because the capital investment required just to actually break ground on a new house might cost as much as the land and materials put together at which point you might as well build another 120$/sqft luxury midrise.

Property management costs for existing units are largely dependent on age and wear. A unit with no occupant is going to depreciate little, and may also appreciate in value. Depreciation and appreciation here are sort of unintuitive because they can happen at the same time. Imagine an old luxury sports car with a high resale price. Driving depreciates the value because it’s literal condition is poorer, even as the resale value goes up over time. The appreciation needs to beat both inflation and the value of depreciation for it to go up in real value. For companies with large capital holdings however, losses such as through the upkeep of empty apartment buildings are useful to a point because they reduce these organizations’s tax burdens. A company that makes a killing on the stock market only has to pay taxes if they keep it: if they buy houses they then don’t rent, they can claim they “lost” their stock market earnings with “bad investments” and then pay no tax while saving the real estate to rent later. Again, this favors the largest possible projects and the largest possible operators because small companies can be killed by an unprofitable quarter or 4 while large ones explicitly benefit from unprofitability in reducing their tax burden.

Expected ROI is the final piece of this, which affects both new and existing units. Every private developer and landlord wants to make as much money as they can, unless they are explicitly are renting as a service. An example of renting as a service would be families, who will rent to each other at favorable rates or for free, privileging people with large and/or wealthy families that are friendly with each other. Now, ROI is also subject to supply and demand. Everyone wants to build 120$/sqft luxury apartments but once everybody does nobody can sell/rent for those prices without setting a price floor and waiting for buyers to catch up. If you are a small developer, you can’t afford to do this. Your expenses will eat you alive. If you are a big developer, though, those expenses are offsetting the gains you make and serving to reduce you tax bill. Units at prices nobody can pay are effectively furloughed, meaning off the market, and, so long as they remain cheap to maintain, will remain that way, artificially restricting supply. It doesn’t matter if it’s for sale or not when it’s at a price you can’t afford. (Sidebar, anyone who tells you that the minimum wage depresses hiring because it artificially restricts demand is lying to you. It’s not strictly false, but like the above it’s a multi-variable equation and blanket statements about cost of labor are aimed at killing wages.)

What this alludes to also is a need for greater income equality. In order for rental to be a competitive option with furlough, not only does the price of furlough have to be increased, the real value of wages have to be increased in order to create opportunities for people to splurge. This is a twofold strategy, of both increasing the rewards of putting units on the market and increasing the costs of keeping them off. If real wages barely cover cost of living, or don’t cover cost of living, nobody can realistically spend more real wages on rent regardless of the percentage of their income it is. (Real wages here refers to the political power implied by dollar wages. A dollar is really worth whatever it can be exchanged for, whether that is a candy bar or a square inch of a 144$/sqft condo) The real value of everything except time and land are also constantly going down because of constant improvements in manufacturing. The cost in acres of land and hours of labor of a pound of beef, a bolt of cloth, or a pint of beer have dropped dramatically in the last century. Unfortunately, land is one of the few things that remains in marxist terms uncommodifiable, because it cannot be fully abstracted from the physical properties that make it valuable and we can’t make more of it just by making a better machine. This means that as the real value of things goes down because of supply and demand, the value of land only goes up because the supply is hard capped. If the value of everything under capitalism must go down because of increased production, while the value of capitalist assets must go up, or the system collapses, it makes sense that land would become a fixed point in that equation, the marxist speed of light observable from all reference points. The best approximation of land as commodity is, what else, apartments, which make available as living space the empty air above us. Because production never stops, the value of everything but land must go down. Therefore, as time passes, the price of land, and hence the price of housing, must tend upwards. Therefore, in order for housing to remain affordable, real wages must grow. This is the opposite of what is currently happening, as real wages have gone down for decades.

This income inequality which is one facet of capitalism is not new. For as long as people have lived in urban areas there have been issues between the abject class, the working class, the ruling class, and the professional class, a four part distinction I will seriously argue for in opposition to a lot of marxist theorists. The ruling and working classes ought to be familiar, or at least self explanatory. However, the other two classes I identify, the professionals and the abject, are useful to this analysis because they fill both a racial gap in the primarily marxist analysis I put forward and identify the two most likely groups to rent, which is to say the worker who works to produce but owns without governing and the professional who works to govern but does not own. The ruling class both governs and owns, but its court is full of courtiers who are there to push various agendas from within the rule of law without per se producing. Likewise, the working class pensioner exists in opposition to the abject who is denied the opportunity or the resources to be productive explicitly as a means to manufacture a threat against which inter-class solidarity between the workers and the rulers is developed. The textbook nazi conspiracy theory about “elites” doing a great racial replacement picks out perfectly what I mean by both the racial character of the professional and the abject and their utilization to foster solidarity between your plumber uncle and Elon Musk. This is relevant to both the broad theme of gentrification and the narrow theme of rent because gentrification is a wedge issue that divides the working class and the professional class far more than its impact on any other. The working class’ disidentification with doctors, lawyers, PMCs and other yuppie types, as well as the professional class’ disidentification with union politics, illegalism, and radicalism in general is brought to firecrackers in virtually any conversation about gentrification which seems in passing to be more about tapas bars than about real politics. Likewise, these groups shared distrust of and disdain for the abject, who are explicitly labeled by the state as constitutionally guilty, is the basis for the very broken windows policing strategy that empties neighborhoods of minorities regardless of class. The Rent is Too Damn High, and excluding homeless people from the “working” working class is a big part of how we got here specifically because the interests of small time owners and small time government functionaries, carried to their conclusions, are necessarily self defeating. These two groups eliminate the presence of the abject from their spaces at their own financial peril.

In addition to class, there is also a specific historical movement that is crucial to the understanding of gentrification as it exists, which is the movement of factories in search of cheap labor. The United States is not a good place to find cheap urban labor. You build a factory and suddenly everyone complains about air quality and labor violations and you can’t just kill them because everyone has lawyers. You kill one (us citizen) organizer and the NLRB is trying to get you in court for intimidation. What’s the country come to? But a shipping container costs a quarter cent per mile and the goods aren’t perishable so you go to Guangzhou or Cape Town where you can kill union bosses in peace. But for the American city, that’s a loss of what once made land prime real estate. What jobs can replace the insatiable demand for labor that a 24 hour paper mill once produced? Service labor, which crucially is site specific and therefore not outsourceable, is what the US has predominantly turned to. (and arms manufacturing which is not outsourced for very different reasons) However, service labor is only in demand if there is already a stable population that can be served, which requires a constant influx of capital holders in demand of service. This is why Airbnb exists and is hollowing out rental availability, why Boston as a college town is the way it is, and why there are in fact so many damn tapas bars. Fred Salveucci talked about being able to go north of the expressway in the 70s and being able to get a plate of mac and beans for half a buck. I went looking for a 5$ slice of pizza on my lunch break today around Government Center and found two places that were boarded up and ended up spending 20$ at Chilacates. Cities are being slowly turned into Cancun, complete with the fences to keep out the homeless.

What can be done about this? Obviously the factors we’ve discussed that favor consolidation of housing are mostly either contained within a gordion’s knot of tax policy or intrinsic to capitalism/goods as commodities. But, given that we narrow our objectives to making the rent lower, some obvious weaknesses jump out: increasing the cost of vacancy forces units out of furlough, because companies are no longer able to justify the losses, and increasing real wages increases the availability of capital for workers to spend on rent. These are the prongs I talked about earlier.

Legal means to pursue each prong exist. Both a minimum wage and a maximum wage, depending on their implementation, can potentially increase real wages, and vacancy taxes directly increase the costs of vacancy. The government can also ignore the market and directly mandate maximum rents within certain parameters. This tends to decrease the long term supply of housing for the reasons discussed at the outset, given that if the revenues from house building don’t cover the costs of building, less gets built. However, any political movement that exists exclusively within the white lines of the law fails to genuinely threaten change. Landlords, like bosses, break the law constantly with the impunity that a lawyer provides them against consequence. This is why a healthy dose of illegalism is an important part of any effective political movement. The most direct action one can take is property occupation, or squatting. Squatter’s rights are nearly non-existent in the United States. The most leeway that any state grants to any unknown persons occupying a dwelling is 60 days notice to vacate the property, and there are states that allow no notice evictions or lack statutes governing squatting at all. Every single state regards the occupation of owned property as trespassing, meaning most kinds of squatting are prosecutable offenses. However, squatting, even temporarily in ways that don’t expose the squatter to liability provided they don’t get caught, can seriously impact the value of properties. You have heard of rent lowering gunshots. This is the serious version of that. At the same time, illegal action needs legal defense, both in terms of non-compliance with police to protect those willing to take illegal actions from arrest and in terms of legal, 1st amendment protected disruption to keep focus on the issue. The most effective movements have a radical wing and a institutionalist wing who do not acknowledge each other but share the same tactics and objectives.

If you are housed, you need to be willing to protect and support homeless people because they are your front line. Start or join an Occupy movement, where they are your peers in occupying a public space illegally in a way that is too public to prosecute. Give to people on the street, and smash anti-homeless architecture if nobody is watching. Be willing to distract cops if you see someone doing something dodgy so they can get away. Remember that following the law is a tactic, and so is breaking it.

The case for this being on my transit blog is arguably weak, but I felt compelled after a particularly hateful experience looking at facebook memes about homeless people on the T. You should want those people there. You should want those people breaking down the doors of luxury apartments and setting up shop. You should want them keeping your city safe because the cops you hire to separate you from them will train their guns on you next.

And for gods sake, don’t let your city become a brand. Branding is marketing. Branding is clean, and bloodless, and a gloved hand around your throat that leaves no fingerprints.

[samsgff]

CHAPTER 4!!

Few hours later, Dean woke up in a hospital room all confused, the past few days felt like a blur to him. He looked around, it was dark outside, and Bobby was asleep on the couch. Not wanting to wake him, he slowly got up and headed to the small church inside the hospital.

Dean wasn’t much of a believer, but his mother once told him that there’s an angel looking out for him, and that’s something he wanted to believe, which wasn’t wrong. The church was empty, he kneeled even though his body was entirely bruised. He kneeled and begged, he begged for some clearance, he begged for a sign, anything that would guide him in the right direction, anything that made him feel as if he wasn’t going crazy.

“Dear angel, god, whoever is listening, I’m I’m tired I’m so tired- I just need a sign, to understand what’s happening I feel so lost- so damn lost and alone.” He cried out.

As he sat there in silent, a huge beam of light filled the room. He looked up, petrified.

“It’s all going to be okay” a voice whispered in a reassuring tone.The celestial being placed his hand over the lost soldier as all of his memories started coming back to him. Every single moment he ever had with his younger brother, the good and the bad, every single hunt he went to, whether it was with his father or with Sam, every creature he ever killed, every beer he had with Bobby, every drive he had with baby. It all came rushing back to him, like a flood.

Still on his knees, his eyed filled up with tears, he had a brother. Sam, Sam Winchester was his brother. The brother who he always looked after, the brother who he made sure nothing bad ever happened to him, the brother who had soft puppy doe eyes which made him crumble and agree to almost everything he demanded. It was always them two. Dean and Sam Winchester. But he was gone, Sam was gone. He had to bring him back, he owed him that much. He got back up on his feet, and walked straight to his room where Bobby was sound asleep, almost kicking down the door.

“We need to bring Sam back” he said in a confident tone. Bobby jumped out of his seat, all confused as to how Dean got it back.

“Dean are you- are you okay?” The old man asked anxiously whilst slowly approaching the son who he thought he had lost forever.

“Yes, I am more than okay and I need to get my brother from hell right now” He added more determined than ever as he snatched the I.V from his arm that started dripping blood in a matter of seconds.

“yes okay alright but can I at least give you a hug?” Bobby asked hesitantly.

Dean leaned into his arms without saying a word.

“Im so glad to have you back” His adoptive father murmured as his voice cracked.

“me too Bobby, me too” Dean whispered softly.

Once they had stopped hugging, they got out of the hospital, specifically from the window so that they wouldn’t draw attention to themselves.

Dean was still weak and dizzy from all the blood loss, he let Bobby drive while he sat in the passenger’s seat and looked through his dad’s book, hoping to find any loophole anything that would get his favorite person back.

“I need to speak with Castiel” he spoke out.

“Ugh, do you really need to?” Bobby asked annoyed.

“yes.” He added firmly.

“Castiel get your ass down here” He demanded.

It was a matter of seconds before the brown-haired angel appeared in the backseat.

“Dean, you’re back” Castiel said in a neutral tone.

“yeah I am and thank you” The hunter replied as he kept looking through the book.

“Why are you thanking me? I didn’t do anything” The angel answered with confusion.

“what do you mean? You’re the one who brought my memories back” Dean replied even more confused.

“no Dean that wasn’t me” Castiel added intrigued.

“Then who the hell did I speak to in that church?” Dean asked as the looked at both Bobby and Castiel.

Few hours later, Dean woke up in a hospital room all confused, the past few days felt like a blur to him. He looked around, it was dark outside, and Bobby was asleep on the couch. Not wanting to wake him, he slowly got up and headed to the small church inside the hospital.

Dean wasn’t much of a believer, but his mother once told him that there’s an angel looking out for him, and that’s something he wanted to believe, which wasn’t wrong. The church was empty, he kneeled even though his body was entirely bruised. He kneeled and begged, he begged for some clearance, he begged for a sign, anything that would guide him in the right direction, anything that made him feel as if he wasn’t going crazy.

“Dear angel, god, whoever is listening, I’m I’m tired I’m so tired- I just need a sign, to understand what’s happening I feel so lost- so damn lost and alone.” He cried out.

As he sat there in silent, a huge beam of light filled the room. He looked up, petrified.

“It’s all going to be okay” a voice whispered in a reassuring tone.The celestial being placed his hand over the lost soldier as all of his memories started coming back to him. Every single moment he ever had with his younger brother, the good and the bad, every single hunt he went to, whether it was with his father or with Sam, every creature he ever killed, every beer he had with Bobby, every drive he had with baby. It all came rushing back to him, like a flood.

Still on his knees, his eyed filled up with tears, he had a brother. Sam, Sam Winchester was his brother. The brother who he always looked after, the brother who he made sure nothing bad ever happened to him, the brother who had soft puppy doe eyes which made him crumble and agree to almost everything he demanded. It was always them two. Dean and Sam Winchester. But he was gone, Sam was gone. He had to bring him back, he owed him that much. He got back up on his feet, and walked straight to his room where Bobby was sound asleep, almost kicking down the door.

“We need to bring Sam back” he said in a confident tone. Bobby jumped out of his seat, all confused as to how Dean got it back.

“Dean are you- are you okay?” The old man asked anxiously whilst slowly approaching the son who he thought he had lost forever.

“Yes, I am more than okay and I need to get my brother from hell right now” He added more determined than ever as he snatched the I.V from his arm that started dripping blood in a matter of seconds.

“yes okay alright but can I at least give you a hug?” Bobby asked hesitantly.

Dean leaned into his arms without saying a word.

“Im so glad to have you back” His adoptive father murmured as his voice cracked.

“me too Bobby, me too” Dean whispered softly.

Once they had stopped hugging, they got out of the hospital, specifically from the window so that they wouldn’t draw attention to themselves.

Dean was still weak and dizzy from all the blood loss, he let Bobby drive while he sat in the passenger’s seat and looking through his dad’s book, hoping to find any loophole anything that would get his favorite person back.

“I need to speak with Castiel” he spoke out.

“Ugh, do you really need to?” Bobby asked annoyed.

“yes.” He added firmly.

“Castiel get your ass down here” He demanded.

It was a matter of seconds before the brown-haired angel appeared in the backseat.

“Dean, you’re back” Castiel said in a neutral tone.

“yeah I am and thank you” The hunter replied as he kept looking through the book.

“Why are you thanking me? I didn’t do anything” The angel answered with confusion.

“what do you mean? You’re the one who brought my memories back” Dean replied even more confused.

“no Dean that wasn’t me” Castiel added intrigued.

“Then who the hell did I speak to in that church?” Dean asked as the looked at both Bobby and Castiel.

[thebrightestwitchofherage]

hi um how r u? I would rlly like to see some sources for you saying this is antisemitism. I’m Jewish, and Israeli, and this is genocide. It took me a while to change how I thought about it but I really think that we need to accept that Israel is not the victim here. I know not everyone in the idf is bad bcuz my parents served in it but just look through some tags for a moment. Civilians are being murdered. I know it’s the government’s fault, bcuz again, I am Israeli but ppl speaking up is not antisemitism. This isn’t hate, I just don’t understand your point of view and I want to. Please don’t get mad or report me I am legitimately trying to understand why u think this is antisemitism

Hi, I’m not saying criticising the Israeli government is antisemitic, I literally posted that I hate them earlier today. Here’s a summary of I what I wrote in previous posts about this:

-First of all- I obviously don’t support Civilians dying on neither sides. Unfortunately, the assumptions most anti Zionists make is :

Israeli -> evil genocidal murderer-> deserves death

And if they’re antisemitic enough , it’s more about the religion than the country you’re from.

-suddenly when it comes to Israel/palestine everyone’s involved are the expert (usually they’re factually wrong).

Nobody cares when Palestinians are being slaughtered in Syria/lebanon/yemen etc. for years. Hundreds of thousands displaced and killed .

if they are aware, it’s somehow Israel’s fault.

-this war wasn’t initiated by us. Israel was invaded , hundreds of Civilians were slaughtered and hundreds were kidnapped. People were celebrating the same day and saying our retaliation is a genocide. It is not.

October 7th was a war started on deliberately on our holiday (once again).

It’s antisemitic to constantly demand humanitarian aid for Gazans (which is provided) while not caring that the Israeli hostages held are not getting any medical treatment and have not been visited by the Red cost once since kidnapped.

-the ratio of casualties is unheard of in the history of modern urban warfare. If I’m not mistaken it’s 1:4:1. The idf makes every possible effort to not hurt civilians and that’s not enough for anti Zionists. No other army in the world does all of that in a war . That’s antisemitism.

-The passion and hate against Israelis is unparalleled in every aspect.An Israeli can’t breathe in the public space / online without getting attacked in the comments, let alone feel safe abroad.

They’re yelling death to all Zionists (Jews) and other antisemitic chants. Jews are barricaded in their homes while these anti Zionists are preventing them from gathering, wearing any religious symbols or entering their colleges ffs.if they are “made” as a Jew/ Israeli Jew they’re immediately attacked. It’s not just about anti Zionism/ hating the Israeli government, it’s about hating them the most. Combine that with ignorance , Arabic funding and Jew hatred , and you get the current rise in antisemitism- which has been happening for years.

-people are denying what happened in October 7th or saying it’s justified at best, and mock the Israelis slaughtered , kidnapped and raped at worst.

-Official organisations like UN didn’t call Out what happened or get involved with investigating the sexual crimes until months later.

-often use of blood libels and antisemitic tropes in describing Israel. (Not to mention Nazi propaganda).Eg the recent conspiracy that Israelis are organ harvesting Palestinians.

-using the word “Zionist” as a slur, while

1. Zionism simply means that Jews have the right for self determination in our homeland Israel.

2. It basically means Jew as most Zionists are Jews/ approximately 95% of Jews are Zionist.

-I’m not saying Palestinians don’t suffer, they do. Hamas had every opportunity to make their lives better. Instead they kill them, use them for hiding places for weapons and steal the aid.

—

This is what I remember from the top of my head. I’m sure other fellow Israelis here can tell you more in the comments/DMs. And honestly, talk to your parents about this if they’re Israeli. Ask them about what life was like here, the constant terror attacks , wars and rockets. The complete lack of apartheid.

Edit: I’ve added more, hope that this helps and that people that already reblogged this see.

[coraniaid]

For the Top Five thing, Top Five Episodes of Buffy that don't have Faith in them but do make you think about Faith?

Not in any order except chronological.

When She Was Bad

Obviously I don't think the writers had the slightest inkling about Faith when this episode was written -- I very much doubt they'd even started to think about Kendra, honestly -- but in some ways this still feels like a Faith origin episode to me. 

So much of how Buffy behaves in this episode would go on to be echoed by Faith the following season.  The insistence on doing things alone and not relying on others (Buffy's refusal to let any of her friends try to help her mirroring Faith's "I'm on my side, and that's enough"); to refusal to tell the people she cares about them that she cares (Buffy's too-late admission that she missed Angel over the summer mirroring Faith's "Uh, Buffy? ... Nothing"); the conflation of sex and violence (the way Buffy demands Angel tell her if he thinks he could “take” her mirroring Faith asking the same thing of Buffy herself).  Even the sudden feigned interest in Xander (as a way of trying to make the actual object of her affections jealous) fits.

Ted

Not just because it’s the first time the show asks what would happen if a Slayer accidentally killed a person, not just because the detective who investigates the death is the same man who will later investigate Finch’s death in Consequences, not just because Ted himself – with his cultivated wholesome image and the lurking unspoken threat of violence and his love of mini-golf – feels like a foreshadowing of the Mayor, but because this is perhaps the one time we see Buffy feel unsafe in her own home because of something ordinary rather than supernatural.  Which I think is something that Faith could relate to.

(By the way, you should read @explosionshark’s Common Ground if you haven’t already).

Anne

This is the first episode in which I think the Buffy/Faith parallels are probably intentional.  It's very hard for me not to watch Buffy alone in her apartment in LA and not be reminded of Faith in her motel room.  So much of Season 3 is about stressing the importance of Buffy’s family and friends in her life (as shown by their absence in The Wish, or by the Class Protector scene in The Prom, or the end of Graduation Day), with Faith as a version of Buffy who didn’t get those things (hence Faith’s “you get the Watcher, you get the Mom, you get the little Scooby Gang.  What do I get?”; and  Buffy’s earlier “Different circumstances, that could be me.”)  And in Anne we see a Buffy who doesn’t have those things, and who is – until she’s talked out of it, by one of the people she already helped save in Sunnydale – an awful lot like Faith.  (Not the same side of Faith that we saw foreshadowed in When She Was Bad, but still I think an aspect of Faith nonetheless.)

Restless

There are a lot of episodes I wish Faith appeared in, but if I could pick just one it would have to be Restless.  And -- given that Faith is actually talked about quite a lot in Season 4 (in a way she isn't in Season 5 or 6 or even the first half of Season 7) -- I’m inclined to think that she might have if Dushku had been available.  We know that Willow and Xander and Buffy are all still thinking about her, after all, and that they were even before she woke up from her coma. If nothing else, she'd have made a lot more sense as the voice of the First Slayer ("No friends! [...] We are alone") than Tara did.

Dead Things

Season 6 is the only season after her first appearance in which Faith’s never mentioned at all, and also the season where Buffy herself is the most like Faith (crawling out a grave in Bargaining the way Faith did in her dream in This Year’s Girl, struggling with money for the first time in a way that Faith had to have been doing for the first half of Season 3 even though we rarely see it; not able to find meaning or purpose in her life except through supernatural violence).

And arguably that most Faith-like Buffy becomes is in Dead Things, which itself is full of very deliberate nods to both Bad Girls/Consequences and This Year’s Girl/Who Are You?  Both because Buffy (believes that she) kills a person, but also because the way Buffy seems almost relieved to be able to give up and turn herself in to the police echoes the way Faith herself eventually did just that (at Buffy’s prompting) in Sanctuary.

[heavenlyhoundoom]

Sun and Moon show incorrect quotes.

1.Eclipse: I’m totally useless. Moon: You’re not totally useless. Moon: You can be used as a bad example.

2.Ruin: Don't have a bookmark? Try ketchup instead!! Bloodmoon: What makes you think I read?

3.Lunar: I am very small and I have no money, so you can imagine the kind of stress that I'm under.

4.Ruin: Watcha doin? Bloodmoon: Stealing my neighbour’s cat. Ruin: Scandalous. Ruin: Can I help?

5.Bloodmoon: Who wants to make fifty bucks? Eclipse: How? Bloodmoon: I need someone to take the fall. Eclipse: What did you do? Bloodmoon: I can't tell you. Yes or no, no questions asked. Sun, from the other room: Oh my god. Bloodmoon: … Sun: OH MY GOD! Eclipse: Make it a hundred. Bloodmoon: Deal.

6.Earth: Do you know a turtles only weakness? Moon: No… well, their slowness. Earth: Their weaknesss is they can't roll over when they are on their backs. Earth: Now I have a plan. Earth: If I duct tape two turtles together, they'll be unstoppable.

7.Bloodmoon: You're a lying piece of shit! Eclipse: Oh yeah? You're the idiot that thinks you can get away with everything you do, WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD! Earth: I'm leaving and I'm taking Lunar with me! Sun, gathering cards: Aaaaand that's enough Monopoly for today.

8.Ruin: I wanna sleep for 40 hours. Eclipse: You know that's called a coma, right? Ruin: Ruin: That sounds so refreshing, I could totally go for a light coma right now.

9.Eclipse: When life gives you lemons, don't make lemonade. Make life take the lemons back! Get mad! I don't want your damn lemons, what the hell am I supposed to do with these? Demand to see life's manager! Make life rue the day it thought it could give Eclipse lemons! Do you know who I am? I'm the person who's gonna burn your house down! With the lemons! I'm gonna get my engineers to invent a combustible lemon that burns your house down!

10.Moon: So, Bloodmoon and Ruin. Moon: According to this, you two are being accused of: Armed Robbery, Vandalism, Drug Abuse, Grand Theft Auto… Bloodmoon: We had a bad day. Moon: And… MURDER?! Ruin: It was a pretty bad day…

11.after the Squad has been separated for a few years Eclipse: So what have you been up to recently? Lunar: Leading a revolution with Earth. Eclipse: Good for you two! Me, I've joined the mob. Lunar: nods Oh, how cool! That's awesome! Eclipse: I know! Anyway, have you heard from the others? Ruin? Lunar: Happily living as a hermit in the woods. Moon? Eclipse: Wrongfully locked up in an asylum, which reminds me, we need to break him out later. Bloodmoon? Lunar: Cult leader. Eclipse: Yeah, that sounds about right.

12.The Squad is playing Chess Ruin: easily beats everyone because they know how to play Bloodmoon: doesn’t know the rules, but wins anyway Lunar: doesn’t know the rules, and loses Moon: knows the rules, but still loses to those who don’t Eclipse: Actually, you can’t do that, because I said so. Earth: They named a board game after cheese?

13.Eclispe: It’s illegal to look better than me. Bloodmoon: I guess we’re all going to jail then.

14.Ruin: When I get Doordash I order 20 Cheeseburgers at a time and heat them up throughout the week so that I don’t have to pay the delivery fee multiple times. Moon: I hope you understand how food poisoning works. Ruin: I hope food poisoning understands how I work. I never met a burger i couldn’t eat.

15.Eclipse: I’m telling you, my team is competent. Ruin, rushing in: Eclipse! Bloodmoon tried to make pasta in the coffee pot and now it's broken!

16.Ruin: I’ve only ever said ‘I love you’ to two people in my entire life: Bloodmoon and a guy in a dark club who I mistook for Bloodmoon.

17.Bloodmoon, after sneaking into Lunar’s bedroom: Hey, wake up! Lunar, half awake: Huh!? Bloodmoon: I just murdered your entire family! Lunar: …But I live alone. Bloodmoon: Huh? Then who are these people in your house??? Lunar: There’s people in my house? Bloodmoon: Well not anymore! Dumb bitch! You could’ve died! You’re welcome!

18.Sun: I want to be like a caterpillar. Lunar: Explain. Sun: Eat a lot, sleep for a while, wake up beautiful. Earth: You know they have a lifespan of a week, right? Sun: Sun: That's just another highlight!

19.Eclipse: I need some help with my homework, Earth. Earth: What’s the assignment? Eclipse: I’m supposed to write a paper that presents both sides of an issue and then defends one of the arguments. Earth: What’s your issue? Eclipse: That’s the problem. I can’t think of anything to argue. Earth: That’s hard to believe. Eclipse: I’m always right and everybody else is always wrong! What’s to argue about?!

20.Bloodmoon: Who else is hiding in the laundry room trying to listen to Eclipse and Lunar's convo? Moon: Me. I'm in the laundry basket. Earth: I'm in the washing machine. Sun: I'm in the closet. Moon: We accept you Sun. <3 Sun: No I'm literally in the closet. Moon: Love is love. <3

[the-badger-mole]

The Other Woman: Part 4

Ursa had set out a plate of Zuko's favorite cookies. He'd always known it was juvenile, but he'd always appreciated the thought. Today was different. Now the gesture just seemed infantilizing.

"I'm so happy to see you!" Ursa was saying. "The house feels so empty during the day without Ikem and Kiyi here." She paused and sighed sadly. "Did your sister tell you that all the universities she's considering are hours away from here?"

Zuko winced. He had been present the day that Katara encouraged his youngest sister to take going to college as an opportunity to expand her horizons, both academically and physically. He hadn't added much to the conversation, feeling a bit disloyal to his mother, but he also didn't have the heart to push her to stay closer to home, as he knew Ursa would've wanted. He couldn't after seeing how Kiyi's eyes lit up at the thought of spending time in Ba Sing Se or the Southern Water Tribe. In hindsight, he was glad he hadn't tried to reign in his sister's dreams.

"Mom," Zuko said taking a deep breath. "We need to talk." Ursa froze halfway through filling Zuko's coffee cup. She found a smile a moment later, the consummate hostess, even after all these years since her divorce from his father had taken her far away from the social elite.

"That sounds serious," she said lightly. "I hope it's nothing bad?" Zuko took a breath and silently went over the speech he'd been practicing for the last three days.

"It's about Katara," he said. Ursa's eyes widened, and two splotchy patches of red appeared on her cheeks.

"She's not pregnant, is she?" Ursa tried to keep her tone light, but there was something cold in her tone. Zuko realized with stunning certainty that she would not be happy to hear that Katara was pregnant.

"Mom-" Zuko sighed.

"You should insist on a paternity test," Ursa huffed, setting down the coffee pot and sweeping crumbs from the table, agitatedly. "Before you sign anything, you make sure you get a paternity test. Agni knows how many prominent young men have found themselves bound to supporting uppity little harlots for decades because they signed birth certificates before making sure the child was theirs." Zuko listened to his mother's rant in mounting horror. How had he not seen this hostility towards Katara for what it was? How had Katara taken so long to reach her breaking point?

"Mom, she's not pregnant," Zuko cut in before Ursa could get any further into her insinuations. Ursa visibly relaxed, which made Zuko dread saying what he had to say next. "She broke up with me."

"Oh!" Ursa, to her credit did try not to look too excited. "Well, I never thought she was the right fit for you, anyway. You'll move on in time, you'll see."

"That's just it, Mom," Zuko said as calmly as he could with his insides tumbling wildly inside of him. "Katara is the perfect woman for me. She's smart; she's kind; she's the most patient person I've ever met besides Uncle. She's so far out of my league, I was afraid to talk to her at first. Did you know that it took me almost a year to get the courage to ask her out?"

"Zuko-" Ursa blinked in surprise. She scrambled to find something to say. "I don't know why you would feel that way. You-you're a remarkable young man-"

"And she made sure to tell me that- to make me feel that every opportunity she got!" Zuko exclaimed. "She loved me! If I'm lucky, she still loves me! But I sat by and let her sit through levels of disrespect I wouldn't allow my coworkers to sit through! I ruined the best relationship I ever had because I was afraid of upsetting you!"

"Me!" Ursa gasped. "All I want- all I've ever wanted for you was the best!"

"Then why did you treat Katara so horribly?" Zuko demanded. "She was never anything but respectful to you! And she made me happy. What more could you possibly want from the woman I marry?"

"She isn't good enough for you!" Ursa insisted.

"Why?" Zuko slammed his hands on the table and stood, knocking his chair over "Why don't you think Katara is good enough for me, Mother?" His voice rang through the room. Ursa paled and sank into her chair.

"I feel dizzy," she gasped. Zuko rolled his eyes and got her a bottle of water from the refrigerator.

"All I want is a reason for why you don't like Katara," Zuko groaned.

"I don't like it when you yell," Ursa's voice quaked with unshed tears, and her hands shook as she opened the bottle. "It reminds me so much of your father." Zuko's jaw dropped at that.

"Are you seriously comparing me to him?"

"It's not that, my love," Ursa said hurriedly. "Not at all. It's just that when you were yelling, you reminded me of him. It-it took me back to..." She drew a shallow, shuddering breath.

"Fine, Mom," Zuko growled in frustration. "I won't yell. I just need to know what your problem is with Katara."

"She isn't good-"

"-good enough for me," Zuko interrupted. "So you've said. I want to know why, you think that. What specifically made you think that Katara isn't good enough for me? She's been kind and respectful to you, right?"

"She walked right out of here without saying anything to anyone the other night," Ursa reminded Zuko, defensively. "That's respectful?"

"She heard what you said about her," Zuko told her. "She heard what you said, and she heard me not say anything to you about it. That's why she left. She's always been respectful towards you, and Ikem. And Kiyi loves her. Uncle is furious at me for losing her! Even Azula thinks she's too good for me! Why are you the only one with a problem with her?"

"I'm-I'm sure she's a lovely girl," Ursa forced out. "But you, my son! You are going so many places. You have such a bright future ahead of you. Can you see her being the one to get you there? She is going to want her own career. She won't be there to support your ambitions. She'll put her own ahead of yours. Your children will end up being raised by strangers. Is that what you want?"

"I want her!" Zuko snapped. "I love Katara. And I-I know that I haven't done a good job of letting her know that- of letting you know that. I've wrecked everything with her for your feelings, Mom!"

"Are you blaming me for your break up?" Ursa sputtered indignantly.

"No!" Zuko paced the floor a few times, raking his hand through his hair. "I messed things up with her. I prioritized you over her."

"I'm your mother-"

"Yeah, and you abandoned me !" Zuko rounded on her hotly. "You abandoned me and Azula, and then you showed up ten years later with a new husband and child and wanted us to just play happy family. And, you know what? I was fine with that! I get why you left. I'm not blaming you for that. But Mom, I was an adult when you came back. I'm a grown man, and you still want me to be your little boy. I can't do that anymore. I'm ready for my own family! I want a family with Katara, but I made her take second place to you. I won't do that again. I don't know if she'll ever forgive me, but even if she doesn't, I'm not losing her for nothing.

"What are you talking about?" Ursa asked. Tears were streaming down her face and she had a napkin pressed to her mouth. Guilt lanced Zuko, but he shut his eyes and took a breath.

"I love you, Mom," he said. "But I can't make you the center of my world. I'll still come by to see you, but you can't claim my time for three nights a week anymore. No more last minute favors. No more begging me to come over to check for prowlers when you have a fully functional security system. No more speaking down about people I care about. I want you in my life, Mom. But not at the expense of everyone else."

"Zuko-" Ursa sobbed.

"This has to be the line." Zuko turned his eyes down to the table, with his fists clenched at his sides. "Katara was never a threat to you. I love you because you're my mom. I was hoping you two would get along. Did you know that she lost her mother as a child? I guess, I was hoping..." Zuko pinched his nose and let out a huff. "It doesn't matter what I was hoping. You have two choices now, Mom. Either you respect the fact that I'm a grown man with my own life- respect my time and space and my choice in who I want to spend my life with- or we can't be in each other's lives anymore."

"Zuko!" Usra looked as if she had been slapped in the face. She gaped up at her son in horror. Part of Zuko wanted to cave and apologize for hurting her feelings, but the larger part of him- the part that was still raw and hurting from losing the woman of his dreams- knew that this was for the best. He sighed and turned to leave.

"Good-bye, Mom."

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

[gareleia]

THE KNITTING SAGA BUT MAKE IT SAD

update: my co-writer friend FINALLY got a tumblr account, so I can tag them now!!

previously: part 1 part 2

next: part 4 part 5

lets talk about relationships, shall we. i'm gonna focus on Athena & Telemachus this time, but Hermes will have his turn later

let's be real, Athena is a hardass. sure, she cares, but she's so emotionally constipated that it really doesn't show that much. especially before she goes through that character development arc after her break up with Odysseus in My Goodbye

(and what a crisis that is)

(because her masterpiece??? failed her??? but she trusted him??? she made him much as in her image as possible??? he was supposed to be perfect???)

(and if he's not perfect, then she failed,,, and she can't fail, she doesn't fail,,, she's a goddess,,, war strategy is her domain, surely there is no way her plan could be flawed,,,)

(what even is the point of her if she's not perfect)

so yeah, she's a hardass. even on baby Telemachus who'd never held a sword before - especially on baby Telemachus, because he's the son of her favored Champion. he may be waaay younger than any of her previous pupils, but she's expecting him to shine just as bright.

Athena, on the first day: let's get down to business! make your father proud! you won't have a weakness! by the time we're done! you're the saddest pupil that I've had! and you haven't got a clue! but I will make a man outta you! Telemachus, a literal toddler, holding a wooden sword as big as himself: ٩(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)۶

and for years to come she trains him relentlessly. she's honestly trying to be nice about it, too. it's just that Athena doesn't do soft or gentle, her default is a neutral face of displeasure, and her idea of encouragement is saying 'you're not as bad as you used to be', or something along these lines.

Telemachus: *succeeds at something* Athena: *raises an eyebrow in a slightly different manner than usually* Telemachus: *le gasp* could it b-be? am I doing a good job??? Athena: it's… acceptable, for your age.

she never once tells him she is proud of him. because surely he already knows. he doesn't need to hear it. his father didn't, after all (ody so fucking did)

and this goes on until Telemachus reaches double digits. then My Goodbye happens, and Athena has Feelings™. she's having an existential crisis, and has to confront the fact that she had done something wrong while training Odysseus, and she can't understand what. which is terrifying, because what if she makes a mistake like that with Telemachus. will he fail her too?

will she have to leave him too, so she doesn't watch him die horribly in a tragedy that could've been prevented if only she had made him see-

so Athena doubles down and starts demanding more and more from Telemachus. the praise goes from sparse to non-existent, and nothing he does seems to be enough anymore. she goes from tough love to borderline verbal abuse, thinking that it's the only way to keep him safe and prepare him for the future.

and Telemachus endures. he has to, because he doesn't want his mother to worry. doesn't want to appear weak. Odysseus had done it, so it's only fair his son should too. and when his dad comes home, he'll be sooo impressed. he can do it!

except…. not really. it's been a losing battle since the beginning, and deep down he knows it. he can't win with Athena, not on his own.

???: if you want to impress her, you'll need the blessing of a certain god! divine intervention! someone who's not afraid to- telemachus: aeolus, what are doing in my closet?!

so anyway, Aeolus and the winions start helping him via winds and stuff, and Telemachus actually starts exceeding everyone's expectations. it's not that he'd been bad before, but he's soft, and not quite strong enough physically to make up for his gentle constitution

everyone is cheering him on. he's the talk of the palace! his mom is so proud! the suitors start sizing him up with consideration instead of dismissing him outright! (and tele, baby, that's not a good thing! ಠ_ಠ). Athena seems pleased for the first time in ages!! but he knows that it's all a lie, and it's killing him.

cause he's a good, honest boye, and he wants to succeed on his own merit, not because of cheating and lying to everyone he loves. that's vile and dishonorable.

que some very important island-wide competition that everyone is expecting him to join and win. maybe it's even his duty as a prince. like, a right of passage from complete boyhood to adolescence.

and there's,,, a lot of pressure on Telemachus to suceed. everyone and their mother are telling him that of course he's got this, he's a prodigy! def his father's son! nobody doubts his incoming victory! he's got this! he definitely won't disappoint them!

random noble: we'll be cheering you on, young prince! truly, we are blessed by the gods to have such a talented successor to the throne! we'll watch with keen eyes as you triumph over your foes and bring even more honor to your family! b(￣▽￣*) telemachus, eye twitching: y-yeah… thank you… (ㆆ _ ㆆ)

so, the night before the competition Telemachus can barely sleep, he's so wrecked by guilt and nerves. he keeps thinking - what would his father do in this situation? all the stories he'd ever heard of Odysseus always painted him as some kind of invincible, righteous, all-capable genius. so the idea of his dad ever grappling with guilt and feelings of inadequacy is just laughable. (oh, if only he knew)

so, he goes to his mom for advice. because Penelope is awesome. but he can't bring himself to admit that's he's cheating - what if she's ashamed of him? he brought dishonor to his father's name, and if anyone knows - will he get exiled?

so yeah, he basically has a panic attack and cries for like, half an hour straight.

telemachus, bawling: if I lose tomorrow, will you hate me? will dad hate me? I can't do anything right and I'm a failure and a horrible person and- just- what do I do, mother? penelope, holding him: oh, love. sometimes you're so similar to your father I wonder if the gods haven't returned him to me in spirit through you.

because no matter what everyone else says, Penelope knows the truth - Odysseus always followed his heart. oh, how he may have tried to forget he had one, to only ever use his head. but a heart he did have - does have, they have to believe that - and it's a bright and gentle one. he may have been hardened by years of pain and struggle in a way that Telemachus hadn't been yet (and Penelope's heart breaks from knowledge that her son will be, one day). but deep down, at ther cores, Odysseus and Telemachus are strikingly similar. and she loves them all the more for it.

and so, with his mother's blessing, the young prince does just as she told him to: follows his heart. he thanks Aeolus for their help, and asks them to stop giving it from now on. either he'll suceed on his own merit, or he'll wear his failure as a badge of honor and an incentive to do better.

and he loses. badly.

and the world,,, doesn't end? sure, the suitors sneer and jeer, but there's a surprising lack of disowning and exile going around. and the nobles tone it down significantly with undeserved adoration, which is definitely a plus, as far as he's concerned.

the only thing is. Athena.

oh boy.

because she's not stupid. Telemachus may have gotten away with cheating so far, but now he'll have to answer to her why he had flunked so badly, and she won't buy his go-to excuse of 'I got nervous!'

athena, expression unreadable: so. care to explain yourself, my stupid pupil? telemachus: w-well, you see… ha-ha… it's, uh… a funny story… athena: you threw away your best advantage! you've had a god perfectly willing to assist you and yet you still somehow managed to lose! telemachus: wait, what-

so yeah, Athena knew all along.

athena, mildly insulted: how stupid do you think I am, boy? telemachus: but! but! but!.. you never said anything! didn't even scold me for cheating! athena, even more insulted: child, I am the goddess of war strategy, where did you get the idea that I ever play fair and straightforward? leave that to ares, the simple-minded fool!

to clarify, she's not upset at him for cheating. she's upset that he stopped doing so. so she throws some choice words at him, implying he lacks both talent and intelligence

and Telemachus defends himself by saying that he'd rather fail on his own merit, than abandon his principles and win by lying and dishonoring his family. in response, she calls him naive.

he tries to implore to her connection to his father by saying that he was just trying to do what's right. he was following his heart, just as Odysseus had always strived to. and he's training to fight for his loved ones, not for glory of being known.

it's a one hit K.O., because it reminds Athena of her recent break-up with Odysseus. of everything they spat at each other during My Goodbye. of anger, of hurt, of disappointment, of betrayal, of I loved you and you failed me, of I loved you and I failed you, of good riddance! and y̶͈̔o̴̘̖͆u̶̻̱͆͒'̸̫̩̌̉r̷̼͝e̴̩̒ ̴͎̻̈́̎ȧ̸̦l̵̗͙͌̐o̸͚͕̚n̷̟̯͠e̵̳̩͠

and is their whole line just cursed? is this their way of punishing her for something? why do they both hurt her so? is it her fault?

telemachus: athena? are… are you okay? (‘-’*) athena, coming off MG flashbacks: well, obviously, boy, why would you even ask that (ಥ﹏ಥ)

Telemachus just hugs her, because she obviously needs it. and she melts into it like never before.

because she wasn't made for empathy or kindness. she's been born to be ruthless and cold. she's not supposed to love and be loved care about anything but winning. it doesn't come natural to Athena, until recently she had truly thought herself unable to, and yet-

yet here, right in front of her, is a boy who loves for the both of them. loves the whole world - sincerely, selflessly. a truly kind and caring soul (the nobles even joke that his true father is Polites).

she can't love.

but maybe… maybe he will teach her.

maybe he already did.

or maybe she always could.

she forgets sometimes, that her fingers know not only the roughness of swords and spears, but also the gentle softness of weaved silk. creation goes hand in hand with destruction, and she can bind countless threads together without breaking them.

and what are humans, if not strings, waiting to be cut by the fates?

also, if Telemachus can teach the goddess of cold cynicism and detached cruelty kindness of all things, then she can teach him swordplay.

yes, it's a threat.

[syn4k]

"Cleo," said Joe, knocking on her door. (It was 4 in the morning.)

"Fuck off," called Cleo from her bed indoors, which was her usual friendly greeting whenever she didn't want to answer the door.

"I have a gift," said Joe, who was well used to this so-called greeting, having experienced it several times before. "Open up."

"It can wait," she yelled, voice cracking and hoarse. God. Why couldn't Joe just come at some better time, like in three hours when the sun was actually up?

"It can't," he said. "I'm going to open up a picket line outside your fence and play loud music until you open up."

Cleo sighed and hopped out of bed, hobbling to the door. (Her leg had come dangerously loose again. She's have to stitch that up later. Her hand was about to fall off of her wrist, too, which was another thing- hot glue worked for that, she supposed.)

"What," she demanded, opening the door to give her friend a whole tired angry tirade about correct calling times and stopped short.

"I said it couldn't wait," said Joe with a grin, holding up a cane. "We made this for you."

"We?"

"Hello," said Jevin from his spot behind Joe, waving. "X and Hypno are also here. Wels threatened to stab us all if we came in to visit."

"And you listened to him, and not me," said Cleo, deadpan. "Listen, this is a nice gift, but-"

"This is Hermits Helping Hermits," said Joe. "And we were all talking and we decided that maybe you could use a bit of help getting along sometimes, like everyone does!"

"I don't," said Cleo icily. She could feel her hackles raising already. This morning just kept getting worse, and the sun hadn't even rose yet. How dare they assume that she couldn't manage just as well as the rest of them? She made it a point of pride to keep up with the rest of the Hermits without any outside help. A cane, of all things? What did they think she was, an old lady?

"Cleo, listen," said Xisuma, expression unreadable behind that frosted visor of his. "I know exactly what you're thinking, but we're not giving this to you because we think of you as less. This is a gift, to help you get along better."

"Yeah," added Hypno. "You know Etho's knee took a major update pretty badly a while back, and now he's pretty much allergic to all of them and out of commission."

"Well, of course, but that's a big thing," says Cleo. "He's bedridden for days at a time. If anybody needs this cane, it's Etho. Not me."

"And you're not, when your leg falls off in the middle of a walk and you don't have your sewing kit on hand?" asked Joe. "When you call me at two in the morning because your hand fell off and you need to superglue it back on to your wrist?"

"I'm about to freeze into jelly," said Jevin. "Can we please come in?"

Cleo was speechless, but she nodded roughly and stepped backwards to let everyone in. Joe flicked on the lights in the living room, toting the cane.

"And for the record, none of us are happy about waking up at this hour either," said Xisuma, not unkindly. "Joe was up all night carving this. He wanted to get it delivered as soon as possible."

"You're all idiots," announced Cleo, her words back. "The lot of you."

"Good to hear your opinion of us hasn't changed," said Joe cheerfully from the kitchen. "I'd be worried if your first reaction to all of this wasn't to declare that you'd had intercourse with all of our parents."

"Well, that too," said Cleo, holding her bad leg up by one hand and going to sit next to Jevin on the couch, which was leather for this exact reason. It was expensive, but so much better than having to wipe blood and slime off of suede, God forbid.

"So, how long did you spend on this?" she asked, picking up the cane propped up against the couch, grudgingly impressed. For something supposedly hand-carved, it was smooth and supple, steady enough to hit someone on the head with and handle the weight of someone leaning on it.

"Can I test it?" she asked.

"Go ahead," said Joe from the kitchen, not turning around. Cleo nodded once and, quick as a whip, whacked the top of Xisuma's helmet with the cane as hard as she could. The cane did not so much as crack, although there was a dent in it as well as the helmet.

"Hey," said Xisuma. "What was that for?"

"Joe said I could test it," said Cleo with an innocent-ish grin.

"I did," said Joe. He walked into the living room, munching on a granola bar. "Now, let's see here. The cane is supposed to rest at your wrist when you're standing up-" he helped her stand up, checked the height, nodded, "-so that you can use it for support and balance without messing up your shoulder. When you're walking, lead with your bad leg. This means-" he took the cane from her right hand and put it into her left, the same side as her dangerously wobbling leg "-you use the cane instead of that leg to propel yourself forwards. Try it."

"How do you know this much about this?" asked Cleo, trying it out. It was awkward, and the cane wobbled dangerously under her shaky wrist, but indeed, she could get around much better than if she had normally.

Joe shrugged. "I did a lot of research. Now, to honor your wishes, I'll be back this time tomorrow to teach you how to use this better. Come on, everyone." He went towards the door, the rest of the HHH crew following.

"Wait," she yelled after them. "What do you mean, this time tomorrow? Joe Hills, if you so much as set a single beard hair inside of this house tomorrow, I swear to God-"

The door clicked shut. Cleo sighed, went to turn the lights off, and hobbled back to bed, putting the cane in the floor and drew the covers back over themself with a sigh.

"Idiots," she muttered. "Absolute fucking idiots. All of them." But she couldn't stop themself from smiling, just a bit.