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blackjackkent · 6 months

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Met Aradin on the road. He and Rakha mostly glared daggers at each other and Rakha almost punched him again just for fun; instead she took his contract to find the Nightsong, purely because she wants to find it when he couldn't. (She doesn't really care about it otherwise; say what you will about Rakha, but she doesn't seem to care much about gold one way or the other at least.)

On into the Blighted Village. Rakha, who has been champing at the bit to fight more of the goblins ever since she learned they needed clearing out, attacks instantly as soon as one of the ones on the village roofs tries to talk to her.

Very good fight. Rakha misty-stepped up onto the roof and fried everyone with Burning Hands. The cloak of invisibility-on-successful-kill is REALLY good. Gobbos never stood a chance.

-----

"Is she going to do that on every battle, do you think?" Wyll says, peering up at the top of the nearby building where Rakha is finishing off the final goblin with manic eyes and a burst of lighting from her fingertips. "She doesn't even wear armor..."

Gale snorts. "She certainly doesn't seem to be much inclined to putting caution to the forefront, and I don't anticipate that changing any time soon. All I can say is, better her than me. A wizard at close range is a wizard soon for the cookpot, or at least so sayeth every guidebook of magical combat I ever encountered."

"She has madness in her. To hear her tell it, a beast that claws at her brain," Lae'zel says gruffly. "Like a steam pipe, I think - the pressure builds and must be vented. Better on these goblins than on us."

"Don't tell me you approve of her strategy," Wyll says, raising an eyebrow.

"It is no strategy. It is anarchy. But I see no way of stopping her, so I will adapt. Tak'san zer'a vlaak. 'One adapts or one perishes.'"(*)

Gale hunches his shoulders, rubbing at a sudden burst of pain in his chest. "In Waterdeep, we say, 'If you can't beat them, join them.' Similar concept, I should think.'"

(*) I've progressed to making up my own githyanki phrases now. It's all downhill from here. XD

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Gale wants to talk when the fight is done; time to start dropping his Lore on Rakha:

"Spare me a moment, if you please. I've something important to discuss with you. We've been traveling together for a while now and it's just about time that I shared something with you. It's a rather personal matter that I'd have preferred to keep quiet, but needs must when the devil drives. I have no choice but to speak."

(A/N: LOL. With Hector and my other playthroughs so far, Gale always pops this a lot earlier because we've done enough nice things that he decides he trusts us. Clearly he does not feel this way about Rakha yet and I don't blame him. XD )

Rakha, coming down from the blood-fever of killing the goblins, just stares at him expectantly, wondering what the hells this could be about.

"You see," Gale says carefully, "I have this... condition. Very different from the parasite we share, but just as deadly."

Me too, thinks Rakha dryly.

(A/N: The fact that I gave Rakha her super short clipped speech pattern occasionally makes me a little sad because it means some of the Dark Urge lines don't sound like something she'd actually say. Like this one: "You also feel disgusted by how life, miserable as it is, insists on persisting in this wretched world?" She might think it but I don't think she'd say it that way. XD)

"What kind of condition?" she asks, narrowing her eyes at him.

"The specifics are rather personal," Gale says uneasily. "But suffice it to say that it is a malady I have learned to live with - though not without some effort. What it comes down to is this - every so often I need to get my hands on a powerful magical item and absorb the Weave inside."

Rakha blinks rapidly several times. Most of what she knows about magic is instinct, not knowledge, but she has heard Gale speak of the Weave, and knows that it corresponds on some level to that tapestry of prismatic color that she can see under the surface of the world. And Gale needs to consume bits of it, directly?

She doesn't know enough to even begin to guess at the implications.

"What happens if you don't consume these artifacts?" she asks cautiously.

"I'll spare you the finer details," Gale says, "but it begins with a simple biological deterioration. Muscle spasms, disorientation, a slight ringing in the ears. And if left for too long..." He trails off; his eyes narrow, as he considers the right words.

"Catastrophe," he finally says. "It's been days since I last consumed an artifact - since before we were abducted. It is time. And by that I mean it's imperative that I find and consume strands of Weave at the earliest possible juncture."

Rakha frowns thoughtfully. Gale, she suspects, does not like her much - especially in the wake of the business with Alfira. But she does not think he's lying to her at this moment.

He is clearly holding back details. But the word he chose - catastrophe. It is a word with significant weight given the magnitude of problems they are already facing. A catastrophe worth the term by comparison must be... significant.

"Where do you suggest we find the artifacts you need?" she asks crisply.

In the end, she gives him the amulet she pulled from the Selunite altar in the owlbear cave, and she watches with fascination as he "processes" it.

The Weave spasms around him. She can see the whole fabric twist and shiver as the power is swallowed into his chest at the point where the tattooed mark glows suddenly bright. He lets out a harsh noise of pain, staggers backwards a step, then stabilizes.

"Thank you..." he mutters unsteadily. "That hit the spot."

He straightens, rubbing absently at the mark where the magic was swallowed. "I can feel it work," he murmurs. "The magic is like a lullaby that sings to sleep the demon inside." A pause, and then he adds rapidly, "A metaphorical demon, I haste to point out. But no less dangerous - and no less bound to wake up again to continue its ravages."

A long pause. He looks at Rakha thoughtfully for a long moment. "Such is the nature of all monsters..."

Rakha is sure that the same thought is going through his head that is in hers - in this we are alike, after all. A beast sleeps in my head and in your chest, and we are neither of us certain to be able to hold them back. Perhaps now you understand the control I lost when Alfira died. Perhaps we are deeper allies after all.

Could there be any connection between his monstrous tenant and hers? Unlikely, perhaps... but the possibility feels oddly reassuring anyway.

"Perhaps now you'll tell me what this is all in aid of?" she asks, just the slightest bit dryly.

He shakes his head. "Grateful as I am, the course of our camaraderie is much better served by not taking that particular detour. Not just yet."

Rakha quirks an eyebrow. If its course was not already diverted by my blade in Alfira's chest, I doubt very much your secret could do it, she thinks, but doesn't press the issue - for now.

#bjk plays bg3 durge #rakha the dark urge #bjk writes her own party banter #more this weekend!#we're finally out of the grove and moving wheee

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relaxxattack · 3 years

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(i dont care to do c! tags bc theres. so many characters. if i dont say cc! then im talking abt the characters) normally i am not one to think much about the syndicate bc outside of ranboo being there to protect tubbo the syndicate Frustrates me a bit but. if phil starts to realize just how fucked over tubbo got by schlatt being erased from the narrative (and especially how shittily techno has treated tubbo) then i really hope they lean into like. the fact that the syndicate may soon turn into phil, niki, ranboo, and possibly the mystery member (im including mystery member mostly because i think tubbo is on good terms with almost everyone except like. dream, possibly wilbur but we'll see, and like the eggpire ppl but none of them are likely options but it is possible that the mystery member could just be neutral) all like. wanting tubbo to be safe and phil is *just* reasonable enough that i think he'd realize how unfair it is for tubbo to have been subjected to so much shit just for techno to introduce even more fear and the need to hide in his life

like phil already keeps the bee duo marriage and michael a secret, he lets tubbo come over and while of course its mostly from the semi lore vibes phil seems vaguely fond of tubbo already (i dont think phil and tubbo have father/son vibes tho, more just like. tubbo is just That Kid that adults cant help but adore even though the kid will rob them of house and home. slightly amused elder watching a tiny fucking gremlin make sex jokes and talk about soviet russia), niki from what i remember still cares about tubbo (probably because she cant redirect any anger towards him without realizing how unjustified it would be kcnsks she can come up with excuses for hating tommy but tubbo didnt do anything that niki has a problem with outside of her maybe having a bad view on butcher army if she knows about it?), ranboo is. ranboo. i dont need to clarify. and then like said theres a very low possibility of the fifth member *disliking* tubbo or being unable to sympathize with him.

people talk a lot about how techno needs to lose in a way that he cant easily come back from without introspection and i think while the rest of the syndicate standing up for tubbo would increase technos grudge against tubbo initially its also like. something that i think would maybe force techno to see tubbo as a person because now theres nothing techno can box (haha gettit. tubbox tubbo in a box tubbo getting boxed into certain roles by people who refuse to let him out techno esp doin this teehoo) tubbo into that wouldnt just. acknowledge that tubbo is a person. hes not apart of the government anymore, not planning any failed revolution, the most negative title to his name is being one of the nuke makers but even then thats out of fear and safety and techno knows that. otherwise tubbos current crimes are nothing thats special to tubbo (like. stealing and searching for evidence in ppls homes and stuff, the latter of which techno doesnr even know about). right now tubbos a husband, a father, a friend, a kid, *ex*-government, a person. and just.

i think that with how much foreshadowing about tubbos execution no longer being a secret amongst the witnesses and tubbo himself and soon being something that people close to techno like phil and ranboo know about as well (in that i want phil to learn that techno did it and for ranboo to learn about it in general bc hes just biased enough for tubbo and just smart enough that i think even if somehow he wasnt told who did it he could figure it out), and with the fact that tubbos lore has been confirmed to now be something thats actively going to be played into? i think (or at least hope) that it might spur phil and techno into finally seeing tubbos side of the story (and probably also get into the possibility of tubbo opening up to tommy and ranboo but i do think realistically either tubbo will try to play it off/not truly open up about how much its effected him or tubbo will at first shut down or go into complete repression mode, especially if phil and ranboo get the story from other people rather than tubbo himself [but god do i hope they confront tubbo himself]. either those two or tubbo talks about his emotions through fucking snapping at something/someone like he did at quackity when reminded of his execution, which as long as its Not tommy or ranboo ill absolutely be cheering on him for)

which is all a very convoluted way of saying uhh. *grabby paws at the ccs currently involved in the arc of clearing up personal misconceptions about l'manberg (and especially tubbos involvement and how easily those around him judged him based off of their versions of the story)* tubbo lore? tubbo healing tubbo talking about his problems? characters learning to see him as a person and recognizing how traumatized he is and that hes not uneffected but actively repressing any effects? please? (also ending note as the cherry on top of this essay that im sorry for dropping into your inbox: im kind of glad that tommys healing arc and tubbos possible healing arc are going to happen at similar times but are still separate. something something its nice to see acknowledgement that tommy and tubbo wont heal in the same way and arent going to know how to help each other but theyre still going through it together. their arcs are intertwining without removing their individuality and as someone w major co-dependency issues its kind of nice idk. you can be there for someone and still acknowledge that you have your own things to go through too and that while you wont be alone you shouldnt force those around you to support you. the bench trio are all helping each other out of free will and genuine love for each other while still realizing they have some problems they arent ready to talk about yet that arent forced to the open because theyre all doing their best to handle each other with care and i just. bench trio my beloveds. the kids are alright.) -🎭🎪 (also as the actual end note if theres ever a need to refer to me as something other than the emojis mask or eyez works fine but the idea of my name being the emojis is also Very Funny to me so do what you will)

im working on my aperture camera college assignment rn and my brain is sort of fried so i dont have an intelligent answer, but i got the happy chemical reading this.

yeah. i think we all know here that my favorite character is tubbo, and i REALLY hope we get him addressing anything that’s happened to him in canon. pretty much all of what you said sounds very good. *grabby hands* spare tubbo lore? please? spare tubbo lore?

perhaps during the three weeks wilburs off in the fucking woods (/lh) we could have a the-others-find-out-what-happened-to-tubbo-(and in DETAIL)-arc. pleaseeeeeeeee and ty

#🎭🎪#lol #anonymous

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darkpoisonouslove · 4 years

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2, 7, 11, 12, 18, 29, 33 :)

2. Why do you write fanfiction?

Because I love the characters and want to explore what happens with them in different scenarios. It is just interesting to see how the same person can change and be reshaped by the circumstances while keeping their core personality... Or because canon is dumb as hell and wrongs the babies and we can’t have that.

7. What element of writing do you struggle with most?

Right now? With the writing. I am piecing together stories the entire time but the actual writing part is just not happening. I don’t know what exactly happened. It might be lockdown getting to me and the fact that it is confusing my emotions which definitely makes writing much more unclear. But I also lack concentration lately and I haven’t been able to listen to music. Lately I do everything with a TV show playing in the background. It fries my brain to have my focus torn between two things 100% of the time but quietness or even music is giving me anxiety and I don’t know how to fix that. I feel like that is a big part of the problem because with an episode playing in the background, I can’t exactly immerse myself in the writing. It’s fun because I have never been in a situation like that before and I don’t know what to do.

11. Who or what do you find yourself writing about most?

Lately I am mostly writing about magic. I just like coming up with cool magical lore and creatures and plot to fit those in. I can’t exactly focus on characters all that much (which is where the confused emotions come in). It’s okay right now because I have a lot of work on the rewrites I am doing which are full of magical and plot stuff to figure out but I hope that once finals are over, this issue will settle a little bit.

12. Tell us about a WIP you’re excited about.

I already talked about my most prominent WIPs and the ones I have been paying attention to recently.

Tbh I have been looking at the Domme AU these last few days and I am still so excited about that. I can’t say that I have actually come up... with new stuff. Wait, I actually did. I was looking at chapter 4 - the damn monster - and made some mental notes on what I want to include in chapter 5. I thought I had that figured out but I guess there is more to think about both the structural components of that chapter and PoVs to include. I realized that I haven’t done a great job of developing Valtor’s character and that will need more work before I can actually write anything else. I feel like the chapters I already talk all circle around the same vagueness about Valtor’s emotional state without giving any concrete progress and that will need to be fixed. Griffin is relatively developed since she also has a goal outside of their relationship which makes her feel more complete as a character but Valtor is still a work in progress and I need to do some thinking before I know what I am aiming for with him in more concrete terms. It will improve the story and will probably - hopefully - prevent another chapter as mercilessly long as chapter 4.

18. I already answered that here. (Also where I talked about the WIPs.)

29. Have you ever gone outside of your comfort zone for a fic? How did it turn out?

The Griffin x Palladium fic - Return to Need - I wrote on a request was definitely outside of my comfort zone. I couldn’t really imagine what a relationship with them would look like and it was a smut prompt so I just strayed as far away from that as possible while digging more into the emotional side and that worked out pretty well. I am actually perfectly happy with what came out of that and pleased with myself for actually rising to the challenge.

There were also two other fics I wrote as requests that were based on songs.

The first one was a Valcy fic - Old As Ice - that made me slightly uncomfortable because I hate the way Icy drools over Valtor on the show and I had to think a little about how to go around that. I am more than happy with the result, however, as I pulled out some amazing imagery and creative metaphors and I love the way it all turned out. It is probably one of my best things even if it is short and doesn’t have a plot. It is more of a character and relationship study.

The other one is a Driven fic - Purple Will Be the Color of Your Death - that was based on the song Bang by Armchair Cynics. That one could (and probably should) have been taken in a sexual way but since murder also worked, I decided to do that. I wasn’t comfortable writing smut about Riven and Darcy so I thought “Let’s have the murder instead”. It got pretty dark (especially considering how short it is) but I really like it because I have used some cool imagery again and it dug a little in the Darcy and Riven relationship as it was portrayed on the show even though I feel like there was a lot more to it than they thought okay to show. It is definitely not an accurate portrayal of their relationship, or at least not one that feels accurate to me but it was still pretty interesting to write.

33. Is there anything you wish your audience knew about your writing or writing process?

I can’t think of anything in particular right now. Maybe because I don’t know what I am doing in my writing process atm. It feels like it is under construction and that is both scary and annoying because it makes it hard to write rn. I am trying to push through but I am just too exhausted to force myself some days even though I would love to actually work on my ideas because I am super excited about them.

Tbh - and I am not saying this to guilt anyone - I would love to hear more from my audience about my writing. I got to 300 followers and I have no idea why the bigger part of these people follow me. I don’t want to turn this into whining about commenting because that is not what it is. It just feels a little weird to have that kind of following yet mostly scream in a void is all I’m saying. The interaction just feels a little slow sometimes. Again, not to make anyone feel shitty. This is just how I feel and I know that I am not the easiest person to interact with because if I am exhausted, I may take some a significant amount of time to respond.

Send me Fanfic Writer questions

#ask #her-majesty-wears-jeans #fanfiction #fanfic #my fanfic #my writing process #my wips #domme au #about me

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bronanlynch · 4 years

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bi-weekly update

it sure has been a wild time here and tbh I had enough to do one of these last week and just. didn’t?? for some reason?? anyway

listening: the Promare soundtrack went on sp*tify recently so I’ve been on Promare soundtrack lockdown over here. I know Kakusei is the iconic Promare song but Inferno (the opening song) always makes me tear up??? love to experience emotions about a movie in a reasonable and normal way. so anyway my standout track from the OST is Piromare because I am so very not immune to sad soft piano renditions of a motif that is usually triumphant/cheerful/etc

youtube

reading: I have, for once, read a bunch of books. I got a giftcard to my favorite local indie bookshop for Christmas and finally got around to using it to buy two books I’d been looking forward to, Dowry of Blood by S.T. Gibson (bi polyam Dracula retelling, kind of) and Winter’s Orbit by Everina Maxwell (gay arranged marriage space opera)

Dowry of Blood was very satisfying to me, someone who has lots of opinions about how vampires ought to be sexy and also terrifying, and I really enjoyed this specific take on vampire lore. also the formatting/pagination was really really cool and reminded me more of poetry books than prose usually does. for the first couple of pages there’s only text on one side of the page and then there’s one line on the back of a page and it hits really hard. extremely good and cool printing choices. would def recommend, but it is also explicitly an exploration of getting into and then out of an abusive relationship so. warnings for that in addition to the murder/blood warnings

also look at how sick this cover is (by Marlowe Lune, an artist whose work I really like in general)

I previously read Winter’s Orbit when it was on ao3 as an original work (called Course of Honour) and it was really cool to read a familiar story that I uh. read several times on ao3 but with added layers, because the author added a bunch of worldbuilding and an entire overarching higher-stakes political plot. I really really liked the added worldbuilding, and for the most part I enjoyed the new plot stuff, though at times I felt like it distracted from what I liked the most about the original, and there was one specific scene that was taken out that I was disappointed about. fave thing about the worldbuilding is when something is referred to by normal familiar words (like pigeons or bears) and then the actual thing is like, a fucking dinosaur that only vaguely resembles the word that’s used for it. very fun

also slightly mixed feelings about the framing of empire in the book, since there is some discussion about the consequences of imperialism and the resolution of the plot involves getting more rights and political sway for colonized planets. but the majority of the plot is about preserving an unjust status quo, and the representative of one of the colonized planets is working for the interests of the empire so that they can appear unified in the face of a larger-scale potential threat, which I’m not sure I love. and I also didn’t really care for the way the resistance movement (whenever it came up, which wasn’t often) was portrayed. so. on one hand yes there is a message of ‘empire bad and we should maybe try to be less Like That’ but on the other hand sometimes it did feel like the imperialism was an under-examined backdrop for a romance. like don’t get me wrong, I love the romance, I love the characters, it’s just that some of the politics didn’t quite do it for me and I think I just wanted More of things that just. weren’t the focus of the story

warnings for discussions of abusive relationships in this one, except this time it’s backstory for one of the characters, not something that’s present in the central relationship. and for all of the things that I wasn’t quite satisfied with, the parts of the book that are about like, learning how to be a person again after being in a situation where you’re not allowed to be yourself are still very well-handled and hit me real hard.

I also read a whole bunch of KJ Charles because sometimes all my brain can handle is marathoning romance novels, but I’m not gonna talk about all of them because this is already long enough (have not read the new one that came out today yet though that’s what I’m gonna do after this)

watching: Supernatural season 13 is incredibly boring and bad in ways that aren’t interesting or fun to talk about so I haven’t watched any recently. I did watch the first episode of Lupin, and really enjoyed it! will definitely watch more, though slowly because it takes too much of my brain to marathon it, partially because I know just enough French to almost not need the subtitles but having to read and also automatically trying to translate as I’m listening takes more brain energy. love a good heist though, and it has some good social commentary on race and class and crime

also the main character is very good. fucking superb you funky gentleman thief

playing: still making my way through the last mission of Knife of Dunwall. I made a bunch of progress since I whined at my friend about how hard it was and they told me to just stay in the building that has places to hide (the one you have to make your way through as Corvo, so I already know the layout, which helps lol) instead of the one that’s falling apart with nowhere to hide. who would have thought.

have also watched my roommate play lots of games and have thoughts on those too. Final Fantasy games (or at least the ones I’ve seen anything from, which is 7, 14, and 15) really appeal to me on a character/aesthetic/plot level but the gameplay looks like it would be bad for my brain. and yes all of those have very different gameplay but they would all be not fun for me in different ways. my roommate showed me like an hour of cutscenes from 14 last night that was basically a movie of tropes I love but holy shit I could never play a game where I have to wait for other people to be ready to also play the same part of the game before I can advance the plot

they’ve also been playing Persona 5 Scramble/Strikers (I don’t know which one the S stands for and at this point I’m too afraid to ask), which I do intend to play myself some day. it’s a sequel to Persona 5 with the same characters and damn they really nailed the feeling of seeing your friends again after not seeing them for a while, both in terms of. I care about these characters and am happy to see them again and also, they haven’t seen the protagonist in a while and they’re so happy he’s back and it makes me very soft. would love to reunite with friends whom I haven’t seen in a while

making: haven’t worked on cosplay but we did make some very tasty tortellini soup last weekend, and then last night we made fish & chips which was a lot easier than I was expecting and turned out pretty well? we just used frozen fries instead of like. frying them ourselves but we did make some very tasty lemon-garlic green beans

writing: well. I have a couple of things I’ve been noodling away at for a bit, and then a couple days ago I had a little bit of a breakdown and wrote 3000 words of angst in one sitting for an entire different new fic (Persona boys having a miserable time), and then yesterday decided to get in on a thing in The Untamed fandom of people writing short ““boring”“ domestic oneshots, and I love domesticity so I wrote one, which various reviewers have called “very sweet” and “a callout post” (it is both of those things)

I’m also organizing an event for P5 trans content because someone was shitty to one of my roommates over a trans headcanon and I got so pissed off that I’m running a prompt week now. love to have reasonable emotional reactions to things that happen in my life. why would I think about my actual problems when I could get petty and spiteful over someone saying that a fictional character couldn’t possibly be trans

#this one is real long i'm sorry #contains pictures of food under the readmore #tuesday no problem extended universe #dreaming.txt

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senaar-ika · 4 years

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The Pixie & The Bard: Ch. 1

Hi there. It’s been a while. I honestly just haven’t had the creative energy or motivation to write recently. I moved house and started working more and I’m about to start a new semester of university. What with the world being a flaming trash bin my brain hasn’t quite been up for much.

Welcome to all the new followers and thank you to everyone who’s stuck around. I’ve had this first chapter of a multi-chaptered fic sitting in my drafts for a while so I thought why not share. I hope you enjoy!

Summary: You’re working as a fairy at a Renaissance Festival in the New York countryside when you meet Charlie and Henry. A father and son who are quite the pair. You flirt with guests at the festival for fun all the time, but something feels different about this one . . .

CW/Tags: nothing major, just heavy flirting, awkward dad Charlie, literally too much Henry but I promise his relationship to reader is important, also E making up shit about renaissance faires, this is mostly just me longing to dress up like a fairy and go to a festival and watch people joust ok

Word Count: 2.6k

Chapter 1 - An Chance Encounter

The festival grounds are surrounded on all sides by forest. Trodden down dirt walking paths snake past vendors and performers, ultimately leading visitors to the main events in the center clearing. The Fairy Tree -as it is affectionately known by performers and guests alike- is your territory. The ancient sycamore tree looks like something right from the pages of a storybook with its sprawling roots, knotted trunk, and layers of thick branches.

Your inner child sprang out on your first day when your manager led you to the tree, explaining that your character should mostly keep in a close radius to it. She didn’t have to tell you twice. You were up the tree and swinging casually from the branches in minutes. Some of the other fairy cast members wander the festival, making mischief and spreading glitter. But you’re perfectly content to hang around your tree.

Of course you’re safe, never climbing too high or swinging too recklessly. You keep a little wooden flute at one hip and your bag of “fairy dust” at the other. Piping out mysterious tunes from up in the tree only to surprise guests who happened along past. If they have children you often toss a handful of sparkling fairy dust down, relishing their squeals of delight.

Today is Saturday. First Saturday to be exact. First Saturday is always the busiest, or at least that’s what the returning cast members have been telling you. First Saturday always falls on the first weekend when schools are closed for the summer, so the families turn out in droves. You likely won’t get a real break today; it’s all hands on deck.

You lean against the trunk of the old fairy tree, one arm hugged as far around it as you can. You’re only about ten feet up, but it feels like you’re part of the forest. A breeze rustles the leaves, bright and green for the start of summer. You close your eyes gently. In the distance you hear a horn sound and a wave of cheers rise up, carried by the breeze.

Afternoon tournament already? The day has flown by. Cast members don’t get to have any modern technology on hand while performing, so you tend to gauge the time by the schedule of festivities. Afternoon tournament started at two. You’d been up in the tree since lunchtime. The tournaments, which include jousting, sword fighting, and axe throwing, pull the biggest crowds. Meaning smaller attractions got a bit of a break.

Carefully you slide down to sit, resting your back against the trunk and balancing your legs horizontally along the length of the branch. You breathe in deeply, just listening for the familiar sounds of the tournament.

“Dad, look!” The whisper-shout of a young boy pulls you away from the quiet, but your first glance at the boy’s father nearly fells you from your perch. Tall, dark, and built like one of the festival’s knights. He’s focused on his phone, typing furiously. The boy tugs at his father’s sleeve, trying very hard not to look away from you, as if he’s afraid you might disappear.

“What is it, Henry?” It isn’t sharp, just distracted, offhanded, but the bassy richness of the man’s voice sends a flutter to your chest.

“There’s a lady up in the tree! Look!” You smile down at the boy, Henry, leaning forward a bit so that the iridescence of your wings catches the light, and you wave. The dad glances up briefly from his phone only to do a double take.

“Hail and well met, gentlemen!” You called, pitching your voice up and putting on your character’s fairy accent. “Ye wouldn’t happen to be lost would ye?”

Henry is quick to speak up, “My dad is trying to get a good phone signal!” The dad’s face turns a ridiculous shade of pink, his expression sheepish and embarrassed. You giggle, swinging your legs over the side of the branch so they dangle.

“I dunno what that is, young lad, but perhaps he’d have better luck with a carrier pigeon?” One of the top rules was to always stay in character. No talking about modern life. Immersion is key and after all you’re here to make magic. But Henry seems confused.

“You don’t know what a phone signal is? Don’t you have a phone?” Ah so he’s one of those smart kids. Before you can say anything, Henry’s father cuts in.

“She’s a fairy, Henry, look. Fairies don’t have phones.” The dad explains, gently. His voice is practiced, as though he has to explain a lot to his son. You nod along with him, crossing your ankles and propping your chin on your hand.

“Aye, he’s right!” You chime in, “And you two look like . . . hmmm.” You scrunch your face in consternation for a moment. “Ah! I know! A knight and his squire?” You point from father to son.

Henry starts to laugh and his father smiles, looking from you to his son and back.

“Yes! Young squire Henry and the brave knight Sir . . .” You trail off, gesturing towards the boy’s father.

“Charlie,” He finishes, holding your gaze steadily. You feel your grin widen and you tilt your head, reminding yourself to stay in character.

It’s not like flirting with guests is discouraged; actually, it’s almost expected of most fairy cast members. You’ve just never been caught off guard like this before. Something about this man, Charlie, sends your heart racing. Perhaps because he seems far too dashing for a dad, or maybe it’s how quickly he is willing to play into the immersion of your job.

“So the brave knight, Sir Charlie, and young squire Henry find themselves at the Fairy Tree.” You slide yourself over to the trunk and begin climbing down, using the little foot and hand holds nailed into the tree. “Trying to relay a message with no luck?”

When you reach the ground, Henry bolts over to you. “Why didn’t you just fly down?”

You crouch down to his height. “Flying for me is like running for you. It’s so exhausting!”

Henry nods, understanding, and looks back over his shoulder at his dad, still standing a ways back. Charlie smiles at the two of you before glancing back at his phone.

“My dad is trying to send a picture of me to my mom.” There it is. You feel something in your chest sink a little. You should’ve expected it really. Hot dad and cute kid? There has to be a mom somewhere in the picture. Henry, unaware that his simple statement shook you, continues on. “She lives in LA, but I get to come see my dad every month. He likes to take me to do things like this.” Oh, hot divorcee dad.

“And what have ye done around the festival today, young lad?” You actually smile as Henry carries on in that childlike way, just talking. Simple statements. Pouring out their day for you.

The two of you plop down to the forest floor. Henry absentmindedly plays with the grass and pebbles. You pluck a couple of clovers from the grass and begin stringing them together. Usually the fairies are encouraged to tell stories to the children, but this particular child seems happy to tell you the story of his day. Henry is just finishing up recounting how they had eaten turkey legs and french fries for lunch when his dad approaches.

“I’m surprised to see such an adventurous pair missing the tournament,” You remark, handing Henry the bracelet of clovers you had woven while he was talking. “But I’m glad to hear your stories, young Henry.”

“There’s a tournament?” Henry’s eyes light up as you slip into your role, telling him all about the lore of the festival.

“Why of course, young Henry! Every sixth day the King holds tournaments where our bravest and strongest knights may show their skill! There’s sword fighting and jousting and horses, and of course all the fair maidens of the kingdom come as well!” You try to avoid looking up at Charlie, squatting down beside his son, for fear of stumbling over your words. “The fairy folk like me perform great songs and dances for the royal court, and all the guests like you cheer and awe at all the talent!”

Henry is hanging on your every word, completely frozen and enraptured in your performance.

“Unfortunately for you, the tournament for today is probably just finishing up.” Seeing the boy’s face start to sink with disappointment you add, “But! After the tournament the fairy folk will lead a parade back to this very tree and we’ll tell stories! There’s always a bit o’ music with our stories. I play this!” You pull your flute from its slot on your belt and hold it up for Henry, whispering your next sentence. “If you and Sir Charlie aren’t in a rush, I suggest you stick around, the parade should be arriving any minute now.”

“Can we stay, dad?” Henry turns excitedly towards his father, eyes still wide. Charlie’s face breaks into a full grin that goes all the way to his eyes which crinkle at the corners. A noticeable dimple also appears on his cheek. Stay in character, you have to remind yourself.

“Of course, honey, if you want to.” Charlie places a hand gently on his son’s back.

It seems as though Charlie’s about to say something to you, but before he can you’re overtaken by the sound of jingling bells, flutes, and footsteps crunching along the dirt path.

“The parade!” Henry scrambles to his feet, turning in the direction of the noise.

You catch Charlie’s gaze as you both move to stand up as well. He mouths a silent “Thank you.” You smile and give him a wink, lifting your flute to your lips. Moving quickly, you dance back to the tree and climb up to hang by one hand from one of the handholds nailed into the trunk. The tune of your flute matches up with the commotion coming up the path.

At least once a day, a large group arrives at the Fairy Tree led by cast members like yourself. It’s part of the job, performing like that. So why are you so nervous?

The parade rounds the forest bend, finally coming into sight. Two fairy cast members lead the group, one with a tambourine, the other a pan flute. A dozen or so children are close behind with a couple more fairies mixed in. Bemused parents and adult stragglers make up the rear.

“Aha!” The performer with the tambourine, halts the parade and points to you. “Kind guests and members of the parade, this is our sister Dewdrop!”

You hop back down to the ground, lowering your flute, and slip into the loose script that formed around storytime each day. “Are we to tell these fine folks a story today, Evergreen?”

And with your line, you settle. This is just your job. You do this every day. Every day there’s a new story. Every day there’s a new crowd.

You and the other fairies sit the little ones down on “toadstool” seats while the adults gather around. Henry choses the seat closest to where you stand, you notice, so you make sure to give him a smile when you can. Like a good actor, you dance your eyes across the crowd, trying to bounce rather than stick to anyone in particular. But.

But you can’t help but get stuck on Charlie. He’s watching you so intently, occasionally glancing down at Henry as he laughs at all the silly jokes and goofs. Today’s story is one about how the king of the festival was trapped and magicked to dance for eternity by the trickster pixies until a kind hearted fairy saved him. The stories are always a bit silly like that.

When you and the other fairies take your final bow, all conducting the children in a chorus of “The end!” and tossing handfuls of fairy dust, you make eye contact with Charlie again. Everyone is clapping politely. He’s smiling at you. You hold his gaze for just one second longer. He’s the first to look away, clearing his throat and raising his gaze to the treetops. You barely have time to process what just happened before Henry is tugging at your skirt.

“You didn’t tell me your name is Dewdrop!” He exclaims, somehow still thriving off of the high energy of the show.

You giggle, dropping down to his level. “You never asked, young Henry!”

“That’s a funny name.” He scrunches his nose in such an innocent way you can’t help but smile.

“Well all the fairies are named a bit differently than you humans.” You explain, “We’re given names that connect us to nature and-”

“Wait a second!” Henry interrupts and suddenly runs over to his dad.

They converse softly for a moment, Charlie leaning down so Henry can whisper in his ear. Charlie seems to be thinking hard about whatever his son is saying. He flicks his eyes over to you for what seems like a millisecond, you can’t even be sure he did look at you. Then he nods and Henry scampers back over to you.

“My dad says we can come back tomorrow! I want to see the fighting and the contests like you said!” Your heart seems to stop for a second before you become very aware of it beating in your ears.

“That - That’s wonderful, young lad!” You shake yourself back to this fantasy that is reality. “You must stop by the tree and say hello then.” You chance a look over at Charlie to find his eyes locked on you. He smiles and gives a slight nod of his head.

He steps forward reaching for his son’s hand. “Alright, Henry, let’s get going now and let our friend get back to doing … fairy stuff.” Henry’s face scrunches in a way that your years of working around children tell you he’s not thrilled at the idea of leaving. So you swoop in with a little assist.

“Sir Charlie’s right, young lad.” You take a pinch of fairy dust from the pouch on your belt, “I’ve got official fairy business to attend to around the festival. But here, I’ll give you a bit of parting sparkle so that you’ll shine until we meet again!” With a flourish, you dust Henry’s flower bracelet with the glittery powder.

That seems to satisfy the young boy as he gives you a toothy grin and turns to leave with a quick “Bye! See you tomorrow!”

“Well hang on just a second!” You decide to milk this moment a tiny bit more, just for fun. “That’s no way to leave a proper lady! Give us a bow and a fare thee well!”

Henry looks confused for a second but Charlie elbow’s him lightly. “Like this,” he whispers. He executes a wonderfully low bow, crying out “Fare thee well, Dewdrop! We shall return on the morrow!” in an over the top sort of faux English accent.

You laugh, fully, almost definitely out of character. That’s when Charlie looks up from his bow, holding your eyes as he rises back up to his full height. After a second, he clears his throat and elbows at Henry again, muttering “Your turn.”

Henry does his best to imitate his father, but his bow is a bit shaky. “Fare thee well, Dewdrop! We shall . . . Dad what is it?”

“We shall return on the morrow,” Charlie mumbles, failing to conceal a smile.

“We shall return tomorrow!” Henry finishes and stands back upright.

As the two of them finally start down the dirt trail you call after them. “Safe travels, Sir Charlie and Squire Henry! T’was a true pleasure that our paths should cross!”

“Bye!” Henry yells back.

Charlie looks over his shoulder at you one more time. You wave. He smiles. And then they turn the corner. And they’re gone.

#i can't promise anything about when i'll update this but i just want at least this chapter to exist in the world #charlie barber fanfic #charlie barber/reader #charlie barber/you #charlie barber x reader #charlie barber x you #marriage story fanfic #renaissance festival au #the pixie & the bard #e's writing

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powertothefan · 4 years

Text

Coffee

A Stanford Pines x Original Character Fic

Hazel DeForest belongs to @evaroze

Stanford Pines is property of Alex Hirsch

This was something tossed together after discovering the adorable OC known as Hazel, she’s so cute and I love the design of her~ So, I did a little dabble of when both her and Stanford were in college and their first official conversation. I hope I wrote her write, as I have been a little rusty in my writing, Far too long since I posted something here that was worth the read. Anyway, please share any thoughts or feelings you have as long as it’s constructive.

Hazel was wandering the commons of the college that morning, a little on the early side. She left the door early that morning to do some research at the library for one of her papers. Just because Backupsmore wasn’t her first college pick didn’t mean that she wasn’t going to put in the effort! She wasn’t as dressed up as she usually would be, just a simple blouse and shorts. She had pulled on a pair of flats as well before herring her hair up in a big ponytail and tossing on her bright pink glasses. With her messenger bag full of notebooks and pens, she was ready to go anywhere

Glancing to her watch, Hazel checked the time. Her first class of the day wasn’t until mid morning, so she’d have plenty of time to get some work done before classes that day. Most of her dorm mates were sleeping in from yet another party. She honestly couldn’t believe it. Just because they were at Backupsmore University didn’t mean they could party the semester away. Who did that anyway? Not her! No, definitely not.

Hazel was terrible with social interaction. In truth, she would have probably never gained any friends unless they proactively were the ones to speak with her first. She knew a few other people, mostly from those forced social circles they did as an ice breaker during the first weeks in the dorms. Otherwise, her friend group was very, very small. She was fine with that though, most of the people she did know the names of were not people she would actively spend time with. They drank and partied and blew off their classes as if they could afford to do it. Hazel didn’t have that luxury. Every penny counted! Still, a very itty bitty part of her wished that she didn’t have such terrible social anxiety.

It would have made trying to introduce herself to a certain someone easier.

Huffing to herself, she let her thoughts pass on as she got to the library door. Stepping inside, it was calm and quiet. It was a massive place too. For a second choice college, it had an outstanding collection of literature. Likely because they didn’t have much of a sports team to spend money on. Either way, the ability to have such a vast collection of books at her disposal made her studies all the easier. Especially with her focus on mythology. She never would run out of resource material for her papers.

As she walked further into the library, she realized that it was very empty. In fact, there was really no one around at all, save for the librarian. Then again, it was a Monday. No one ever got up before classes on Monday, unless they were someone like her and super focused on their studies. It was all the better really, she’d have the whole place to herself. Wandering further into the library, she hurried to the folklore and mythology section. It was her element, her one true oasis. No one and nothing could take it away from her-

“Oof!” Hazel sounded as she smacked right into something. She hadn’t been looking where she was going, instead skilling the shelves as she walked past them. Just as she was stepping back out into the open areas beyond the shelves, she collided with someone, and hard. Books were flying, paper scattered by the ceiling fans, and the two moving forces pushed off the courses and onto the thin and worn carpet. Laying there, Hazel had to take a moment to breath, that impact hurt! Carefully, she groaned while sitting up, rubbing her side where he was sure she was charged into an elbow.

“Oh, gosh. I”m so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going!” A deep voice said, A shadow overcoming her as a hand was offered up. “I was carrying too many books, and couldn't see a thing. I shouldn’t have assumed I was the only one here.”

The tone was upset, clearly more so at themselves than her. There was some obvious disappointment in their own carelessness. However, it was also very familiar...too familiar.

Not really thinking as she grabbed the hand, she was dizzy and shaken still, she was easily pulled right back up to her feet. With the bright ceiling lights no longer glaring down right into her eyes, Hazel could focus on the man who helped her up. As she locked her gaze on their face, about to give them a stern talking to for being so reckless in such a sacred place, her throat swelled and her heart stopped.

Stanford Pines... It was like an arrow to the heart, struck by a cupid with a sniper rifle. So accurate that it fried her brain. Stanford Pines was everything Hazel had ever wanted since high school! Originally, he was supposed to get a scholarship of some kind and head off to some amazing college. Instead, he ended up going to her only affordable pick. She had wanted to try and be good and say hello. He had been her obsession throughout all of high school after all, not that he even knew she existed back then...Hazel never had the heart to speak. Now, as an adult, and independent, she had told herself she’d try.

And boy, did she try.

They had gotten classes together, unknowingly of course because she hadn’t realized that he had any interest in the fields of mythology or folklore. They were English heavy studies after all, not the wonderful sciences that he seemed to be skilled in. Part of her knew that he was aware that she existed, he often waved at her with that handsome smile. However, every time that she saw him, with that grin and cute sweater vest, the ability to talk was replaced with the need to nervously vomit. In all cases since the semester began, she flat out ran away before she could lose her lunch to her anxiety. Not exactly the best way to say hello.

Now, here he was, his glasses skewed off a bit from the impact and his large hand wrapped firmly around her’s. Only a foot apart, both a little shaken from the impact but still breathing...or at least Ford was. Hazel couldn’t get her body to continue their usually automatic functions. As Ford seemed to get himself resettled by fixing his glasses, Hazel felt herself just melt at his touch. They were rough, but not painful, Just worn from all his tinkering and building. They were so large too, and not just because of the extra finger which she had always found to be an adorable addition to an adorable man.

Ford had really grown up, a lot more than she was prepared for.

“Oh! It’s you!” He said suddenly, bringing hazel back down from the second hand high of his existence. Breathing in suddenly, she blinked, her mind rushing forward to catch up to the conversation. “M-Me?” She weakly said, her voice still a little breathless from the lack of air in her lungs.

Stanford turned a slight shade of pink, giving a nervous smile of sorts as he tried to correct himself. “I mean, I recognize you from the folklore seminar class. ‘Folklore and Its Effects on Modern Development.’ You..ah, You sit in the row behind mine.”

His tone had gotten a little meek, almost as if the man was becoming uncertain of himself as he addressed her. Why was he getting nervous? She was the one having an internal battle between heart and brain!

Wait.

He was talking to her...Stanford Pines was physically talking to her! He knew she existed! The man she had been obsessed with for years knew they were in the same class. Holy crap! She needed to speak, to say something, anything. For the love of god open your mouth Hazel DeForest!

“Ah- RIGHT!” She said very loudly, her face going bright pink as her mind finally caught up to current events. “Rightrightrightrightrightright. I remember! You did the opening argument statement about how folklore was only lore until people could collect it! It lost the folklore touch when people found out it was all fact.” She blurted out, saying just about anything to show that she wasn’t a brainless zombie.

“Ah, well, it's true! Once something is discovered to truly exist, it isn’t lore. It’s Science. That in turn means it can’t be categorized as lore but as a truly existing species. The professor was not really impressed with my reports for that debate session but he didn’t flunk my report either so I guess my point was valid enough!” Stanford said, seeming to pick his tone back up while in a subject he could work on. “Anyway, sorry for running you down. I was walking to my table with more books and...clearly got over zealous.” It was then that Ford looked around, causing Hazel to pause and do the same thing. Oh, they had made a bit of a mess...The books were scattered all over, some having flown far enough to land on top of the shelves! His notebook was crumpled nder a couple and the pages from it seemed to have scattered to the winds, still being carried off by the breezes of the fan.

“H-here, I’ll help clean up.” Hazel said, pausing a moment as she then looked down at their hands, which were still tightly held together. Ford noticed this too, and quickly let go with a nervous chuckle before roughly clearing his throat. “Yeah, thanks. I’ll start over here.”

The pair turned away from each other, Ford kneeling down to grab and gently fix the books near his feet. Hazel did the same, grabbing a couple and fixing the pages before gently setting them on a nearby table. She then also started to snatch up the flying papers, trying to keep them from wrinkling any further as they continued to flutter at her feet. It took a minute, but with the two of them collecting they were able to get it cleaned up easily. The last book was picked up by Hazel, her eyes a little dazed until she read the title. Instantly, she was back to her usual self for a second.

“Ah, It’s here!” She said suddenly, causing ford to look up as he grabbed the last few books from their places on top of the selves. “Hmm? Something catch your eye?” “This book, I’ve been trying to get it for ages but every single time I get here it’s pulled off the shelves! I need it for my report on the correlations of folklore creatures and their real life potential counterparts. It has a segment on how folklore creatures and mythological monsters are created based on a person seeing something for the first time and using other animals to describe it! I wanted to read it for my paper and reference some of it’s points on how artistic interpretation cannot be trusted unless done while actually in front of the creature.” She rattled, her tone serious and smooth as her intellectual side kicked in, a finger moving up to adjust her glasses for a second. “Oh, You’re referencing it as well?” Ford asked, coming closer and putting the last of the books on the table. “I originally grabbed it because I’ve been trying to get it as well. Whoever has been hoarding it just got it back over the weekend. I’m using to further my argument that just because we depict creatures in a certain way does not diminish their potential existence. The author has a wonderful part about the statues of medusa actually and how they believe that medusa is a real being, but her hair was misinterpreted.” “I came here this morning to borrow it...Looks like you beat me.” Hazel said, suddenly feeling herself getting shy again.

Damn it, Hazel. This was your first real conversation with Ford and you were going to blow it because you couldn’t keep the talk going! What was worse, she had gotten up for nothing. Ford got the book first. Even if she wanted to, she didn’t have the heart to try and ask him to let her borrow it first. So much for getting a head start on that report.

“Do you wanna borrow it?” Ford asked suddenly.

“What?” Hazel squaked, not prepared for that statement.

“Well, I don’t have classes until mid-morning. That’s our Folklore course. If you don’t mind just using it this morning, you’re more than welcome to take whatever notes you need from it while I’m referencing other books. I technically already checked it out but if you need it now you can keep it until after classes. Then meet up later to give it back?” Ford asked, his tone strangely hopeful.

Was he- Nooooo, naw he couldn’t be...maybe?

“Um, well...I really do need the book for a few other things besides just the research. If it's not an issue I guess we could meet at the coffee shop off campus? The one with the big tables? It’s very dead in the afternoon on Mondays, so we could meet up after all our classes for the day and I’ll try to quickly get the notes I need before giving back the book. The library gets too busy later in the day anyway for me to focus.”

“Heh, yeah, I have to move my work back and forth from the dorm to here because the afternoon library people. However, I can get coffee later! I’ll need it anyway for my second wind of research. So coffee, after the day's classes?”

“Yeah, coffee!” Hazel said, suddenly finding herself smiling as her cheeks turned a bright pink.

Ford seemed to also, his own lopsided grin making Hazel’s heart flutter harshly in her chest. Stanford quickly stacked his books back up again, still grinning a little before carefully turning so he could see Hazel beyond the still massive stack of literature. “Alright then, I’ll get back to my work. I’ll see you for coffee.”

With that, Ford smiled again and headed off, hurrying back to his work table but making sure to take the time to check each eye before moving past. Hazel stood there, clutching the book to her chest as the gears in her head turned, trying to comprehend what just happened.Coffee, she was going to get coffee with Stanford Pines. A cute cafe~ Where people sat together close and chatted over lattes and teas. So, she didn’t actually drink coffee, as she preferred tea, but that didn’t matter! She was getting coffee with Stanford Pines!

Slowly, she took a few steps into a shelf area so that she wouldn’t risk being seen, before falling to her knees in giddy delight, covering her mouth to make sure her excited giggles and squeals did not echo throughout the whole place. Looking back to the book that she set down, she snatched it up again before darting out of the place with a high skip in her step. She had to get as much note taking done as she could, as she knew that she probably wouldn’t be able to focus on her work if she was sitting across from Stanford...But that was a problem for future Hazel, current Hazel had work to do!

#stanford pines #hazel deforest #Gravity Falls #GF AU #Original Characters #Original work #Fan Fiction #One Shot #Romance #First Meeting #Not my Characters #Coffee #Cute Couples #Ford x OC #Ford Pines #Stanford #Alternate Universe #Sweet #evaroze

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vinylackles · 6 years

Text

rescue

word count: 4,250

summary: you’re pregnant with dean’s baby, and therefore riding the bench back at the bunker. but too many missed calls later, you know that something is very wrong, and you have no choice but to go save the boys... if you can make it in time

this came to mind the other day and I literally cannot write anything else until I get this out of my head haha so I hope you enjoy! its angst, but it ends in fluff, like always :)

all my works || request imagines here

“I’m gonna kill your dad, just so you’re in the loop in there,” you muttered to your growing belly, pacing back and forth, covering the length of both the tables in the library. The little girl in your stomach kicked in response.

“Oh you wanna help? Thanks for the support.” Rubbing your belly with one hand, you clicked Dean’s name yet again on your phone, knowing deep down that it was going to go to voicemail. Sure enough, his raspy voice came across the line for the ninth time.

This is Dean Winchester. But if you’ve got this number you already knew that. Leave me a message about whatever’s on your ass and Sam and I will get back to you as soon as we can.

“If you don’t answer your phone, it’s gonna be me that’s on your ass, you hear me? Pick up, dammit!”

You yelled loud enough to make your little girl jump a bit. You rubbed your belly in apology, surprised at the tears in your eyes. Actually, you weren’t all that surprised. Pregnancy hormones were wild enough to make you cry over dropping a pen these days. But you knew these were real tears. Fear tears, as Dean called them. He’d always be so concerned when you started to cry over the smallest things, so he’d started to categorize them. There were sad tears when he would go off on a hunt, and worried tears when you thought about the life your baby would have. Random tears, about the simplest things like craving a burger from some hole-in-the-wall diner two states over (he’d gone and gotten it for you, of course). And fear tears, which were his least favorite of them.

Nothing is going to hurt you, either of you, or me or Sam or Cas or Jack. Not on my watch, he would say to calm you down.

“Liar,” you grumbled at the memory. After several more failed calls, including to Sam’s phone, your nerves were fried, and you knew something was seriously wrong.

“Well babes, looks like you’re going to get to go on a hunt after all. Don’t get used to it,” you said, looking down. You were 7 months along, your stomach protruding so far you could barely see your toes. In all honesty, all you wanted to do was lay down in bed but Dean and Sam were in trouble.

Taking a few deep breaths, you tried to lower your blood pressure and heart rate, knowing everything you were feeling was going right to the little human inside of you.

“We’re fine, daddy’s fine, everything is gonna be just fine,” you repeated the mantra to yourself as you began to pack. Despite the fact that you hadn’t done it in months, it was a bit like riding a bike. You weren’t always pregnant and bunker-bound. You could hunt with the best of them, but your little girl’s safety was the priority for all of you, so you were on the bench for now.

Lucky for you, you knew what the boys were up against. A shapeshifter, just north of Tulsa. So you packed anything silver you could get your hands on, throwing it in a bag and grabbing the keys to one of the cars in the garage.

Your daughter didn’t want to cooperate for the drive, forcing you to take so many pee pit-stops that it set you back almost an hour, but finally, you made it to the motel with the cheapest rates in town, knowing that’s where they’d be. You’d hoped to see the Impala in the parking lot, but you knew it wouldn’t be there.

With a sigh, you headed into the front office.

“Hi there, I was wondering if you could tell me what room Jason Vanzant checked into? I’m his wife.” You put on your nicest voice at the front desk as you threw out his alias, but the receptionist just gave you a sad smile.

“I’m sorry hun, I’m not allowed to give out personal information. It’s a new policy.”

You cradled your belly a little tighter, thinking on your feet.

“Damn. I just have this feeling that’s he’s off doing something he shouldn’t, you know? He’s been talking to this guy, I found his messages and they said they might be sneaking away and coming here. I think it’s his secret lover or something. And with the baby coming so soon, I just wanted to get to the bottom of it. Well, anyways that’s okay, I understand. Thank you! Have a nice day!”

You didn’t make it five steps towards the door before she spoke up.

“Hang on baby, this guy your boy was talkin’ too... he wasn’t tall, like real tall, with brown hair, was he?”

“Yeah actually that sounds like it could be him. Looks kinda like a lumberjack?” You had to bite back your laughter at her simple description of Sam. You’d have to tell him about it when you got the chance.

Without another word, she slid the key across the counter.

“Room 303. And if he gives you any trouble, you come get me, you hear?” Her face was dead serious and you nodded at her, knowing she would kick Dean’s ass if you said the word.

Your triumph made you forget your sore feet for a moment, and you made your way to room 303 as quickly as you could. You were unsurprised to see the piles of lore books and Sam’s laptop, still open and whirring away on the table.

You flicked through what you could find in the papers, finally finding a map with a black circle on it, much to your dismay.

“Aw c’mon now, can’t a pregnant lady catch a break!” You groaned as soon as you realized all the lines in front of you were in fact the sewer grid of the town. “Frickin’ shapeshifters.”

Your daughter kicked around, landing one to your ribs that stung quite a bit. A pang of worry shot through you. She usually wasn’t this excited or active unless Dean was talking to her through your skin, especially if she hadn’t heard his voice in a few days. You were convinced she missed him just as much as you did when he went on hunts. But since he wasn’t here, you knew she could sense something was wrong.

“Shh shh shh, it’s okay sweetheart, we’re gonna find daddy.” The words were meant to soothe her, but you needed to hear them as well.

You got back in your car, prowling slowly around town until you saw Baby parked on a side street. You pulled in behind her, unpacking your weapons after you parked. The elastic waistband of your pants came in handy as you stowed the gun and the knife, along with your phone, just in case you needed to use the video to figure out who was who.

You were completely unsurprised to see the sewer cover had been moved aside, and you were thankful. There was no way you would have been able to lift it, and it was hard enough to explain going into a sewer as a not-pregnant lady.

The ladder was harder to maneuver than you thought it would be, your belly getting in your way with almost every step. You finally made it down with shaky knees, half from exhaustion and half from nerves.

She was doing backflips in your belly, obviously feeling your nerves too, but you did your best to ignore her as you drew your knife, trying your best to be silent as you moved through the damp tunnels.

The signs of the shifter began to appear. A patch of skin there, some blood on the walls, a clump of hair here. You weren’t positive that it was still down there until you heard voices.

“It’s very interesting up in this suit of yours Dean. So many things to play with in your brain. Who should I go find, hmm? How about little Jack? He hasn’t seen you in a few days, I bet he’d love to go out for another fishing trip. Or, maybe, I should really hit you where it hurts. Your girl’s been calling you all day, I bet she’d come rushing if I asked.”

“You stay away from her,” Dean snarled, and you breathed a sigh of relief. He may be hurt, but at least he was alive. Staying flat against the wall and out of sight with a protruding stomach wasn’t the easiest, but you did the best you could as you inched towards the sound.

“You wanna hear her voice one last time huh? I can play if for you, if you’d like.” Your stomach twisted as you heard your own recorded voice begin to play. But it’s pompous move gave you the cover you needed, the sound masking your footsteps as you moved in behind it.

It was quick after that. You pulled the knife and stabbed with all your strength, right through it’s back without looking. You knew you’d hit home in it’s heart when it’s knees gave out and it slumped forward onto the ground. It died, and you didn’t watch it, knowing that if you did it would look just like Dean dying right in front of you.

Instead you lifted your eyes to see Sam and Dean, their hands tied behind their backs, facing away from you.

“Hello? Whose there?” Sam yelled out, craning his neck to see you. You waddled your way over, suddenly much more aware of how much your daughter was kicking, and how sore you were as the adrenaline faded.

“Who else would be here to save your ass?” You rolled your eyes, very carefully crouching down so you could cut Sam’s ropes.

“Y/N?” He asked incrediously, turning to look at you in amazement as soon as he was free.

“The one and only. Cut him loose, will you? I’m exhausted.” You passed him the knife, leaning up against the wall. You felt like you’d been run over by a truck.

“Yeah, yeah of course.” Sam took the knife, turning to his brother and cutting his hands free.

You had barely noticed Dean talking until he was right there, his hands cradling your face.

“The hell were you thinking, coming out here!?” His voice was angry but his face was relieved in the moment you saw it before he crushed you to him.

“You didn’t pick up your phone. That’s murder one for a pregnant lady,” you teased, melting into him, just thankful to have him back in your arms.

“You could have gotten yourself, or her, hurt!” His voice was a bit more scolding that you would have liked, and you quirked an eyebrow. Sam saw your expression, recognizing it immediately. He tried to look distracted, suddenly fascinated with the pipes above him.

“Well if you two could handle a damn shapeshifter, I’d be cozy in Kansas right now, and she’d be safe! I’d rather her grow up with a dad, so you’re welcome!” Your tone was just mean enough for him to get the point that you were not about to have this discussion.

“Sorry. Guess it just got the best of me for a minute. Can’t stand to think of either of you in danger anymore, it’s my new and improved weak spot I supp-”

“Dean. I love you, but please stop talking,” you cut him off, holding your stomach. He looked up at you in confusion, a bit of hurt in his eyes.

“She’s been doing backflips for an hour now, and she can hear you. You know how she gets. If you keep it up she’s gonna crack a rib.”

Dean nodded, suddenly serious as he placed a hand on your belly for a moment.

“C’mon, let’s get out of here,” he said quietly. You happily put an arm around him, letting him carry more of your weight. He only had a few scratches, and you were dead on your feet, so you didn’t feel too bad.

If the ladder going down had been hard, the ladder going up was almost impossible. You had a fear you were going to fall, even though Dean was right behind you, a steady hand on you the whole time.

Each step was daunting, and even with the words of encouragement from both Winchesters, the anxiety didn’t cease and it took you forever to finally breathe the fresh air above you. Sam helped to pull you out and you sat on the pavement for a moment, catching your breath.

Dean climbed out agilely behind you, brushing your hair from your face as he kissed your forehead.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, a bit embarrassed at yourself.

“Absolutely not. You were protecting her, never apologize for that.” He said it quietly, just for you, before he helped you gently to your feet.

“Are we still heading out tonight?” Sam asked, and though he tried to hide it you could see that he was ready to leave. You dreaded the idea of the return car ride. All you wanted was a soft bed and a shower.

“You go ahead. I’ll bring her and baby, and uh, other baby, back tomorrow. I think they’ve traveled enough today,” Dean said, reaching in your pocket to grab the keys and toss them to his brother.

The sense of relief that washed over you when you leaned back on Baby’s leather was immense. But it wasn’t long until you were being pulled in for a kiss, Dean’s lips soft and warm against yours.

“Sorry about what I said down there. I get a little frazzled when I think about you all in danger,” he said quietly. You could barely hear it over the rumble of Sam’s car as he pulled away.

“You were protecting your girls, can’t fault you for that.”

“Has she calmed down? Can I talk to her?”

You nodded, melting at the way he lit up as he looked down at her, even if it was just your stomach.

“Hey baby girl. You take it easy on your mom in there, alright? She just saved your dumb dad, which I’m sure she’ll be more than excited to tell you about some day.”

“Of course,” you grinned, running your fingers through Dean’s short hair as he leaned down to kiss your belly, his hands resting ever so gently. Even so, he felt a particularly hard kick that she landed, making you hiss in a breath.

“Sorry! Sorry!” He said, backing up immediately, but he had the widest grin on his face. It made you laugh, which brought a whole new wave of soreness that you ignored.

“She’s a daddy’s girl, thats for sure.”

The drive back to the motel was almost enough to lull you to sleep, especially with Dean’s warm hand in yours. When you pulled in you fought back a groan, not wanting to get up.

“Stay here. You still got your gun?”

“Dean were in the middle of nowhere, no one is going to bother us.”

“I can leave mine...”

“Yes, I’ve got a gun. We’ll be fine,” you chuckled, squeezing his hand before letting go. You weren’t sure how long he was gone, but you felt the car shake a bit when he put the weapons bag in the back before climbing in beside you and starting her up.

“I thought we were staying here for the night?” You pouted a bit, your fantasy of crawling into bed soon fading quick.

“You didn’t really think I was gonna make you sleep there did you? Besides, the front office lady looked like she was gonna kill me for some reason.”

You chuckled at that, deciding to leave the story for another day. You curled up next to him as he pulled out of the parking lot and drove through the town. You were almost asleep again when he turned left, parking as close as he could get to the door of one of the nicest hotels you’d ever seen. He wiped the blood off his face quickly in the mirror before turning to you.

“Wait here.” He kissed your forehead before heading in through the doors. A few minutes later he returned to you, grabbing the bag and helping you out of the car and into the building. You both looked so out of place amongst the high class patrons all around, but you were too exhausted to care.

Getting up to your room was a bit of a drowsy blur, but when you got there you perked up. The room was massive, with a plush king size bed in the middle. Everything was so light and elegant, from the large windows to the sofa on the other side of the room.

“I ordered us some food, it should be up here soon,” Dean said, guiding you over to the bed and helping you sit down. The mattress felt like heaven underneath you and you laid back against it in bliss.

“I feel like I’m on a cloud,” you tried to say, but it came out garbled even to your own ears. You felt warm lips press to your forehead and you hummed a bit.

“Sleep,” Dean murmured and that was all it took. You drifted off into happy dreams of Dean with a pink bundle in his arms, and you weren’t sure how long you slept before you heard a bit of clanging that brought you back to.

“Hey, it’s just me. Food’s here if you’re hungry.”

Mouth practically watering, you did your best to sit up, but it just wasn’t working.

“Uh babe? Little help?” You squeaked, reaching up your hands. He was over to you in a second, taking your hand and guiding you up to sitting. It wasn’t until you fully came to that you realized he had repositioned you in the bed when you’d fallen asleep and you were resting against the pillows. Even just the simple gesture made your heart swell.

“I got a lot of stuff, no tomatoes anywhere though,” he explained, rifling through the food. The smell of them had made you nauseous for the last few weeks.

“That pasta looks good,” you said, pointing towards a particularly cheesy one that made your stomach growl. He grabbed a tray, putting the bowl on it with some bread, fruit and juice next to it before he handed it to you. You began to dig in, getting through quite a bit before you realized Dean wasn’t eating, just watching you with a smile.

“You’re creepy. Sit down and eat.”

“You’re cute,” he countered.

“C’mon,” you patted the bed next to you. He obliged, climbing up and settling in. You ate with casual conversation until your bellies were full.

“Maybe she was just kicking me to say ‘feed me woman!’ She’s calm now,” you said quietly, thankful that your daughter had decided to turn in for the night.

“Did she make you sore today?” Dean asked, rubbing gentle circles over your skin.

“Everything made me sore today,” you teased, wiggling over into his arms as best you could. He helped, pulling you towards him and tucking your head under his chin.

“You know, I paid for the room with the big bathtub. Want me to run one?”

“But then you have to get up. And you’re warm. And comfy,” you mumbled, nuzzling into his skin. You felt his frame shake a bit with a laugh, his lips kissing your hair.

“I saw bubble bath on the counter in there.”

You stilled at that, and he chuckled again, reading your body language. You were a sucker for a good bubble bath and he knew it.

“I’ll come get you when its ready.” He kissed you again before sliding off the side of the bed, shedding his shirt on the way to the large bathroom. You relaxed into the covers, waiting until he came to get you, clad in only boxers.

“C’mon beautiful.” His voice was soft as he reached underneath you, scooping you up.

“You don’t have to carry me you know, I know I’m heavier than I used to be,” you said, though you wanted nothing more than to not have to be on your feet.

“Hush.” He sat you on your feet but his hands never left you as he eased your shirt over your head first. He undid your bra with gentle fingers, moving down to your pants. Even the smallest thing of not having to bend over to wiggle out of your jeans was so nice.

He picked you up again once you were fully naked, half to be romantic and half because you both knew you couldn’t hike your leg high enough to get into the clawfoot tub that was waiting for you, full of fine bubbles and warm water.

As you sunk down you could almost feel the tension leaving your body. You leaned forward as Dean shed his boxers, climbing in behind you. He was so agile despite his size it was as if he barely moved the water, settling himself behind you before pulling you onto his lap. His hands began to roam, but it wasn’t sexual like usual. He was rubbing the knots out of your muscles one by one, hitting all the spots he knew would be sore on a normal day, but especially after the one you just had. No words were needed, so you just relaxed into him, letting him do his work as he hummed some song you knew you’d heard in the impala a few times.

When his work was done you were practically jelly under his hands. He moved to hold onto your belly, tracing gentle patterns on the skin. He loved your bump so much, it made you melt. You knew he’d miss it when it was gone.

“Can’t believe she’s going to be here so soon,” you mused, looking down at his hands holding her where the bubbles had begun to fade.

“I can’t wait. I hope she’s just like you.”

“I hope she has your eyes,” you countered, turning a bit so you could see them. Bright green, as always. He kissed you again, soft and slow. He was even gentler with you in all aspects these days, and you were soaking it up.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, resting his forehead against yours.

“You were worried, and I already forgave you. It’s okay,” you reassured him for his words earlier yet again.

“Not that, even though I’m sorry about that too. This was supposed to be an easy hunt, the easiest one out of the new batch. That’s why we chose it. Should have been as easy as a salt and burn. Thought I’d be back to you all in a day or two. I got too cocky. No hunt is that simple, and I got myself stuck.”

“And I got to save the day. I was going a little stir crazy anyways.” You kept your tone light, trying to cheer him up a bit though you knew it was futile.

“Me being stupid put you - both of you in harms way. I can’t keep doing that, especially when she’s actually here. I don’t wanna be like my dad. I want to be there for her, always.”

You fought the tears that were welling in your eyes. He was going to be such a good dad, you could already tell.

“I want to keep her safe, but I can’t do that if I’m not with her. I’m gonna give up hunting, entirely. I have to. Leave it all behind me.”

You leaned back a bit at that, your brow furrowed. Bringing a hand up out of the water you stroked his cheek, watching him relax into your touch.

“I don’t think that’s gonna work.”

“Huh? You don’t want me to stop?” Dean’s confusion was obvious.

“You know I want you safe and with me in the bunker more than anything. But I don’t think you can just give it up entirely. Kids have parents with dangerous jobs, and it shows them how to be brave. It’s no different just because you’re a hunter. It’s what you do, and you’re damn good at it.”

“Maybe you could be like Bobby. You’re so smart, and you know so much. All the new hunters can go out and do the dirty work, and come to you if they need help. And if a hunt comes up that they absolutely need you on, then you go and you come back, like you always do. Hunting is part of who you are, and that’s not something to be ashamed of.”

“I love you,” he said, unable to find any other words. You were fine with that, twisting to get a better angle and kissing him hard, smiling against his lips.

“If I’m the new Bobby, does that make me old?” He said after a while, effectively breaking the mood. You just shook your head, kissing him one more time before sitting up.

“C’mon, get me outta here before we get even more pruny.”

The next few minutes were full of pampering, from him lifting you out and drying you off, to him pulling one of his shirts over your head and helping you step into comfortable panties.

He led you back to bed, helping you climb in before coming around the other side and slotting himself in behind you, pulling you close.

“Thanks for saving my ass today, per usual.”

“Anytime. Can’t wait to tell our little girl all about it someday.”

#idk why I got so stuck on this but it was so cute in my head #so here u go hope u enjoy #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester #writing #spn imagine #supernatural imagine #dean winchester x reader

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mynameisdreartblog · 6 years

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Christmas Decorations 2

Leo: The star on the treetop that gets replaced by an angel. «Ok, I have a plan for how my funeral should go about. I want someone to place my cremated ashes into a balloon, yeah? And for the record, this is gonna be a closed casket funeral for the beginning of the plan. Then, that ash-filled balloon is gonna be placed inside the casket and the hatch will be set on a timer. And when that timer strikes right at high noon, I want that balloon to be released from my casket and float right into the center of the chapel or wherever it's taking place… Now, this is where you play your part: I want you to grab a BB gun, and I want you to shoot that balloon and let my ashes spread over everyone in the service. Does that sound like a good plan or what?» Oro, what the fuck? I finally decide to give you a moment to come in and explain your proposals, to my front office, — at a time where my time is stretched very thin — and you give this horrendous shit to me? I could get an actual gun to spray your ashes everywhere and you ask me to shoot your balloon with a BB gun instead? I'm ashamed that you didn't think is through hard enough, Oro. We have a company standard, and you're failing to meet it, and… pfft, I can't even keep that up. But yeah, I do like your proposal for the week's next print, but I have some concerns over how likely we are to come across something like that. «I know, right? I've been trying to find a family willing enough to do that proposal and almost all of them have turned me away, and I've been slapped by a total of three purses. Some people just don’t get the importance of gonzo journalism.»

Taurus: Two thirds of the artificial tree. Are the Power Rangers really mighty, and are they really morphing? Today, we will answer the real questions on Squirrel Eyes with Gresham Chandan. […] So ma'am, what was your last contact experience with one of the Power Rangers? «Well, I've met the pink one before and she was a really nice lady. She offered me a ride home after the hotel kicked me out for pissing on the she-» That's all great stuff, but did you pick up any details she may've mentioned to you about her life: any info about her powers or her crew? «No, not particularly. We just drove through downtown on the Shark Cycle and it was a lot of comforting silence with the occasional pat on the shoulder to tell me that it's alright.» Ah, so the ride wasn't in the Radbug, and there were no juicy details shared with you. I guess we'll have to ask someone else. […] Tell me, actress Amy Johnson, do you have any knowledge regarding the status of the pink ranger? We're hot on the trail of finding out what the secret is to their powers, and we believe you can help us. «Um, I haven't been in that role for years, and I've nearly forgotten all of the lore details the director gave us. Do you want an autograph or something?» I'm not here because I'm a fan, I'm here because I want answers to one of the world's greatest secrets. You're the closest I've been to figuring this out, and I just want you to answer some simple questions. «Ok, I'll play along: I think you can find out the secret of the Power Rangers — as to whether they're really mighty and morphing — by watching the show!» You think we haven't tried that? I own the entire collection set on DVD and not once did they ever reveal the secret of the Power Rangers! […] Will we find the answers? Will we keep harassing actors from '90s cartoons? Find out in the net episode of Squirrel Eyes.

Aquarius: The eggnog that's still in the fridge. Most koalas carry an STD, so I don't think it's safe to eat them. In fact, koalas are just shitty animals all around. Hold on, let me find that copypasta about how evolutionary defunct they are… «They have one of the smallest brain to body ratios of any mammal, additionally - their brains are smooth. A brain is folded to increase the surface area for neurons. If you present a koala with leaves plucked from a branch, laid on a flat surface, the koala will not recognize it as food. They are too thick to adapt their feeding behavior to cope with change. In a room full of potential food, they can literally starve to death.» Look, I know that it's rash to categorize evolutionary traits as either good or bad, but this is just bad. «Speaking of stupidity and food, one of the likely reasons for their primitive brains is the fact that additionally to being poisonous, eucalyptus leaves (the only thing they eat) have almost no nutritional value. They can't afford the extra energy to think, they sleep more than 80% of their fucking lives. When they are awake all they do is eat, shit and occasionally scream like fucking Satan. Because eucalyptus leaves hold such little nutritional value, koalas have to ferment the leaves in their guts for days on end.» Not only are their brains stunted, they also have a diet that consists of leaves that brings them no nutrition at all. «Koalas are no exception [to degrading teeth], when their teeth erode down to nothing, they resolve the situation by starving to death, because they're fucking terrible animals.» Hey, that's what I do when I run outta cashews! But yeah, I'm convinced that koalas are just God's way of saying that they can make us as useless as they want. Quite frankly, I'm terrified of becoming a koala.

Pisces: A reef covered in poison ivy. Do the cheesy shirts, with condescending messages of them, withhold truth about you when they show up in your wardrobe every day? There must be a deeper meaning behind why you wear a shirt that says, "Exercise? I thought you said extra fries!" on it every day: maybe you want to take pride in being overweight and you're expressing that through a shirt that disguises how skinny you actually are. For all we know, you could exercise and keep a healthy mind and body everybody, yet you'd still wear that shirt that mistakes exercise for extra fries. […] Another day, you could be wearing a shirt that says "Yet despite the look on my face, you're still talking." But, how can one measure the look on your face? Your face is masked by giant, cloudy spectacles that cover up your eyes, making them impossible to cue any moods from. Besides, how could anyone strike a conversation with you when you're wearing that? Forget getting people to stop talking to you, you won't get anybody to start talking to you! […] The final day comes by and you're wearing a shirt that says the cheesiest thing of all: "Senegal Public Broadcasting." Oh shit, I mean what's on the back: "Be careful when you follow the masses; sometimes the M is silent!" Now, this one is definitely more political in nature than the last two, but it reveals more about who you are than any of them. Your name starts with an M, so I believe that you have more of a closer relationship with this particular shirt than the others: it speaks to how you identify yourself — a non-follower, like someone who persists by their own notions rather than what was fed to them. Clearly, you're holding antagonism towards those who act as followers, as evidenced by liking them to asses once the M is perceived as silent in pronunciation. But, I'm still perplexed at what these cheesy shirts ultimately mean.

#Zodiaccupuncture #Zodipunc #Leo #Taurus #Aquarius #Pisces

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littlewalken · 3 years

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Mar 19

Well, I did a big adulting yesterday and sort of had an 'I told you so' moment that I didn't have all my ducks in a row yet because I'm still waiting for one to come by mail. It's a duck I assume that needs a lot of red tape and no amount of anything can speed it up.

We're also not talking that much about ducks until said duck arrives because someone else here has only what they've looked up on their phone about ducks, I have my self taught basic knowledge about ducks, and instead of arguing about ducks I'm only going to listen to the professional duck breeders' opinions about ducks.

Trying to figure out that altho I have what has been quite a good solution to my writing notes, that reinforced triangle hole notebook paper Mead makes because that shit went to the Mystery Flesh Pit and back, I still have in the back of my mind there's a 'better' way to have hard copies of them.

This is 3 ring binder paper, self, it is repositionable, when you rewrite something or add to it you don't have to deal with the sewn binding shit. It doesn't wear like a spiral book does, the paper will crumble before the reinforced holes do. You don't need a fancy hole puncher and bindermajigger. You took the fabric off one of the Mead note binder thinggies so it can hold more papers.

There is nothing physically wrong with how you have this stuff written down. why does your brain continue to do this to you?

If it's really at war with how the story notes are done your brain could always help you write the stories out into finished form then no more notes, right?

Now for some supervillain lore...

Oh yeah. embracing my super villainy. Had a perfectly able bodied woman try to just walk between my grocery cart and the check stand to take line cuts because her arms were full and I noped her plans. It was obvious she was not with the people in front of me.

'Nope' might be my catch phrase, or at least my first one. I ran out of advantages to be taken in the summer of 2021, I have none left, so there's none for you to take.

We also had a great chat about how good it has felt to be cutting unhealthy relationships and people out of our lives on the drive home as the car filled up with the smell of fresh fried chicken. Got that promble with that particular grocery store figured out too.

If we can see the smokestack next door from your parking lot you're our local grocery store and we're going to be shopping there and we're going to be buying fried chicken and I'm not letting any able bodied person I've seen walk around the entire store without issue take any sort of line cuts.

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floggingink · 7 years

Text

Riverdale, “Chapter Twenty: Tales from the Darkside”

THIS ISN’T DOWN TO THE WIRE, KEVIN

I think most of the references this ep went over my head, as I am not a classic horror connoisseur, but I’m giving it the old college try

CHUCK AND HIS 18-INCH WAIST IS BACK!

Sixth period is Intro to Film: for starters, the opening text crawl is from the beginning of the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and they did this to placate Jughead, who has an amazing episode this week in that he fucking survives to the end of it

oh yeah, Betty got Mr. Phillips killed!

I like that in response to the circumstances Betty and Jughead have started sinning MORE

Jug’s snake tattoo has a little crown on it, because history will not be denied/he’s a dweeb

Jughead’s being very dutifully “You didn’t do anything wrong, etc.,” and Betty absolutely cuts him off like, “BUT HOW THE FUCK?”

he calls her “Poirot,” which is like Betty calling him a rebel without a cause

ah, the poster of which is by his bed! Jughead has a bedroom!!!! you’ve earned it, champ!

Sexy, aesthetic Southside: I don’t remember if Penny Peabody had crimped hair the last time she and Jughead met, but it’s straight outta 00’s Avril Lavigne and I love it

the Kentucky Derby blinders Jughead has for his father are Riverdale’s truest tragedy. FP is doing him so wrong

Jughead is going to be Penny’s “transportation advisor,” because he’s such a good driver

LOVED the Kill Bill typewriter “Archie & Jughead” titles

What damn high school in America: you know Jughead just totally skipped class and sauntered into Riverdale High in his fucking jacket. now that his English teacher is gone, what’s the fucking point? can he still run his paper?

Gay?!: Cheryl calls them Bert and Ernie as she shoves them aside like they were made of papier-mâché (Bert and Ernie are life partners)

I like Jughead’s sort of layered expression when he’s asking Archie for help/telling Archie he’s going to help him, like he’s slightly smiling when he talks about the Ghoulies “stunt”

Archie COMMENDABLY says NOTHING about the huge crate full of drugs (it’s not POSSIBLY full of drugs, or even pancake mix) he’s about to get his prints all over. Riverdale would never have them pick up a like a metal Law & Order box, it’s got to be like a fucking pirate chest

Archie & Jug in the truck was presh. Archie had a lot of Fred-esque lines, but I think he’s filtering his true fears about Jughead ENDING UP IN PRISON, WHICH IS WHERE HE IS HEADED, into father-speak, and Jughead, whose father blows, is like I DON’T KNOW, DAD, I’M LIVING MINUTE TO MINUTE HERE

—which is very traumatized, you know? like when you’re growing up, if you’re too hassled and anxious you get holes in your developing brain because it’s too focused on constantly being in fight-or-flight survival mode to the detriment of learning how to be a person? Jughead doesn’t have time for anything that isn’t literally getting to the end of today, possibly sleeping with Betty

I like how Archie’s fantasy does NOT include college, which he doesn’t care about

Jughead doubts it: GQ tells me the East Village is still around, Jughead

not even in his dreams does Archie imagine Veronica would NOT be living on Park Avenue

I like the possibility-thread of “Even worse than jail” being cut off by the flat

Jughead wants to call Betty, his fixer, but then they’re like, How about the sheriff’s son?

would Kevin even have helped them out? he’s not into the shady anymore! he’s post-Joaquin!

Jughead has grand movie-thoughts about his own persona but has not “played it cool” once in his life

OH GREAT, IT’S TONY TODD. IT’S THE FUCKING CANDYMAN. GREAT. GREAT. HOW THE FUCK. WHAT. THE FUCKING—WHAT????????

Jughead only has $18 and he carries it with him wherever he goes

Jughead RELEASES Archie from his friendship debt before getting into McGinty’s truck, because HE’S ABOUT TO DIE

“DON’T LOOK UNDER THAT TARP”

JUGHEAD TAKING HIS LAST LOOK AT ARCHIE IN THE REARVIEW

The Blossom spawn: when Tony Todd fucking invoked Jason fucking Blossom, on top of everything else, ON TOP OF EVERYTHING ELSE, I had a fucking myocardial infarction

McGinty throwing out the time warp phrase “for just a hot minute”

okay the lighting in the truck makes his eyes reflect these tiny pinpoints of white out of the beyond-the-grave voids of his eyes and that Judgement Day shit is on the radio and Jughead is like, this is too much atmosphere even for me

“IN THE BLACK OF THE HOOD IS THE LIGHT OF GOD, AND WHEN YOU SEE IT, YOU WILL DIE.” WHAT? WHAT???? WHAAAAATTTTT???????

and then Archie sees a zombie deer. he sees like a fawn with its fucking skin blistered off. he sees a fucking Chernobyl deer. walking precisely the line between Riverdale and Greendale. great. Greendale is full of ghosts. Jughead is in a death truck driven by the Riverdale Reaper’s sixth victim or something. GREAT. GREENDALE IS FULL OF GHOSTS! GREAT!

Jughead wears his watch face very rakishly on the inside of his wrist

for a hot second, I thought the flies were bees. I did think they were bees. I did think they were doing Candyman

BECAUSE IT’S FUCKING TONY TODD!!!!!!!

you know Jughead was going to look under the tarp. you fucking knew it. he’s in act two of a horror movie. he’s going to relay this story later and say he didn’t look under the tarp? what’s under the tarp? WHAT’S IN THE BOX

deer too dead even to still walk around

I’ve seen this like three times and I can’t tell you what the fuck he’s eating in that shitty cafe. steak? Jell-O? kitten flesh?

the way he says “I’m no thrill-seeking sicko,” sucking on the S’s

the single fly buzzing around McGinty’s shoulder as he tells the Reaper story was like a single further death omen and if it turned out Jughead was already a zombie like in that comic you know, I would’ve fucking bought it, fuck it, what the fuck

some people THINK a lynch mob got him? there was a RUMOR lynch mob? or there was DEFINITELY a lynch mob that only MIGHT HAVE lynched the right person??? I’M GONNA NEED SOME CLARIFICATION, POP TATE

California in my experience is exactly where you should be to pray to the devil

I loved how fast things went incredibly south in the diner. the thud of the check, McGinty saying Jughead would pay, Jughead beings like, Pardon me? Jughead about to be LEFT BEHIND

“YOU’RE SINNERS, BOTH OF YOU. CAREFUL OR YOU’LL TASTE THE REAPER’S BLADE NEXT.”

Archie > Dawson: Archie is, simultaneously, the worst and best person to have along with you inside a horror movie, because he’s sort of dense but also will never give you up, never let you down, desert you (if it’s a Good Archie episode, which this unmistakably is). Archie is the only character I would buy forgetting he was there and miraculously he shows back up in the nick of time

next we have Archie and Jughead driving around some more with the Friday the 13th echoing exhale sound effect in the background, just for funsies

Fifth period is AP English: Penny’s fucking Arctic exploration crate has all this HP Lovecraft motif lore on the side of it, so, cool, I guess it contains screaming desiccated souls or something (Lovecraftian Ghouls eat flesh, by the way)

“Damn good coffee”: aaaaaaaaand coming out to meet them is a Soviet spy wearing a beret, wheeled out by Karla, with an AK on his hip. Greendale contains the trapped spirits of everyone who died there in the 70’s

These students are legally children: Jughead is screwed. Jughead is so screwed. Jughead is one part vodka, two parts orange juice

Archie’s coloring lends itself well to being bathed in that pink Pop’s lighting I love

Jughead has recovered enough to call McGinty (who isn’t named aloud) “Mr. American Gothic”

JUGHEAD WANTS TO GO TO THE LIBRARY WITH ARCHIE. he doesn’t want to do drug runs. he wants to snoop around with his best friend, because despite having a gang in his bloodline, Jughead is REALLY not a gang member. when he gets to choose what he wants to do, he just wants to do research. he wants to be Giles, okay

endless tragedy with Archie’s “Next day, for sure.”

I would absolutely believe that Riverdale’s jail’s visiting hours are actually “sunup to sundown” as opposed to like “eight to four”

how precious is he, steeling himself to see his father’s slashed face

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

apparently Penny’s surveillance video has some sort of infrared lighting quality

I like how Penny specifies that Jughead is not to raise his voice to her, a classic scarier-than-violence threat

is this why FP was so freaked that Jughead would owe her? not because she’s naturally treacherous to everyone, but because he knows she wants recompense for his betrayal? FP, you’re awesome start to finish

Jughead has not done like a SINGLE THING WRONG this entire time that hasn’t been at the behest of him trying to FIX everything single thing that his father set him up for, dog

I do not deserve a whole segment dedicated to Josie and her white manicure, yet here I am!

Josie and the janitor have an understanding, because people who stick around school after hours are usually slightly strange and have to stick together

“I don’t need a bodyguard! I’m not Whitney. Yet.”

Certified pedigree: Mayor McCoy is another Scary Riverdale Mom, but I’d say she’s the least scary of them WRT her daughter (not the southsiders, although jury’s still out on how much of that is Alice’s fault)

Josie’s vocal polyps swell when she’s stressed

her denim one-piece? only you, Josie

Cheryl’s hair: Classic Disney princess hair this episode. Classic Cheryl. a Classic

Cheryl sums up Josie’s guilt as being about “sinning” which means therefore the Black Hood may notice, as opposed to something like “You feel like you’re betraying your friends,” which would be the human response

Chuck Clayton is thoroughly charming throughout. if you just watched him this episode, you’d be like, How bad could he really have been?

he came prepared with the knowledge that Josie “loves her cheese fries”

Chuck’s leather jacket is very nice. all the boys should just be wearing leather jackets

Josie is partaking of a “eucalyptus steam”

“Nick St. Creature”

Cheryl’s measured response to Josie calling her controlling was perfect. she says she’ll never be able to “repay” her “debt,” because Cheryl is ALL ABOUT tit-for-tat, emotional burdens handled via business deals, paying off favors, clearing her side of the column

I also like her Blossom pun

The 2001 Josie and the Pussycats movie was a masterpiece: VALERIE! MELODY! VALERIE’S SWEATER! MELODY’S SKIRT! VALERIE’S CURLS! MELODY’S AFRO! “WOMEN ARE SUPPOSED TO TREAT EACH OTHER BETTER THAN THIS.” “PRIDE COMETH BEFORE THE FALL.”

Fwoopy hair is the best hair: Melody is not happy but she is the goddess of my life and I hope she can sense that from this distance

why IS Josie doing the solo thing? she did claw them in the back!

ooh, he’s smooth. he’s smooth with the Pop’s thing. Chuck did that

Josie’s “YEAH MHM” nod when Chuck says he “doesn’t have the greatest track record” and rolls her eyes at him “going to church”

“Why? To objectify models?”

he wants to draw comics, because he is a creative? Chuck and Jughead and their leather jackets would have a great time at the library together, after they make up (with hugs)

did I say Archie looked good in the pink light? fucking Chuck and Josie look phenomenal

Pulp Fiction diner dancing!

I’ve seen Brick like thirty times: the two of them synchronized jitterbugging together, I did not have the patience to Google the name of the dance, like fully won me over. is Chuck good now? I’m fucking on Chuck’s list now. like is that all it took for me? I am a weak bitch

“YOU’RE A DAMNED FOOL.”

stay strong, Chuck! don’t fuck this up!

is Mayor McCoy lying on the spot about her hate mail mentioning Josie? just to scare her into compliance?

“Taking a few art classes does not a saint make.”

Cheryl’s sheaths: Cheryl’s wearing huge thick ankle-strap platforms again with a VERY leggy romper

okay shut up because Cheryl actually says “What’s in the box?” and Brad Pitt felt a little bit of his life force drain from his body

Gay.: What up with Cheryl’s game here? was she preemptively putting things in Josie’s locker on the off-chance she would need to get a rival presence out of Josie’s life? I would like a reason, but I don’t need one, because Cheryl is so beyond my mind to comprehend I take solace simply in basking in her wake. like, she found a pig’s heart? of course she did. of course you did, Cheryl

Cheryl’s a chaos angel from hell: “For all we know, he’s the one sending your mom those letters, too” is SUCH an overreach if Josie had had time to think about it for two seconds, but she does not have such two seconds, thus it is a master move by Cheryl Blossom

Chuck’s puppy eyes

Josie knows what she diiiiiiiiid!

THEY GOT ME FOR THE SECOND TIME! GODDAMMIT!

nicely specific throat-slashing, right in the polyps

I’m writing a scene where it’s gay.: Cheryl is listening to Josie sing as she draws, in the greatest reveal in television history (at least since “You’ve done a bad thing, Daddy,” which feels like it happened fifty-eight years ago) (is this actually gay? am I being #blessed with Gothic lesbian villainy?)

Every triangle has three corners, every triangle has three sides: Betty and Jughead literally sleeping together I WOULD ASSUME means they’re having sex except I’m like 0-4 on this stuff, I’m not taking anything as a given

Best costume bit: Betty’s flower decal sweater

VERONICA: How’s he been dealing with it? BETTY: WHAT’S HE BEEN DOING?

Veronica’s tiny poofy magenta skirt and EXTREMELY high heels

“Poor Kevin. He’s like a character in a lost Tennessee Williams play.” (Archie does not know Tennessee Williams)

Sheriff Keller is REMARKABLY forthcoming, in that I think he assumes Betty is going to dig around until she’s found this stuff out anyway, so he may as well show her the ACTUAL EVIDENCE PHOTOS now

Kevin is a cashmere-besweatered angel who plays RPG’s and drinks milk

dare I spy a Tarantino split-screen?

The female gaze: Tom Keller is jacked and this just complicates everything

the extent to which Veronica can be read as absolutely hitting on him while actually prying him for information while ostensibly offering comfort is a tribute to Camilla Mendes, James DeWille, 60,000 years of human speech

the animal targets on the wall as like, art?

aw, Kev took the floor. honestly thought he might have a bunk bed for like, his bears

God bless jingle-jangle: can you imagine having it in your obituary that you were “a jingle-jangle addict”? can someone finagle this for mine? is this blog a legal document?

50 Shades of Betty: I love how off the rails, if you will, Betty is this episode. she’s lost the forest for the trees a bit and it’s GREAT. she’s such a fucking oddball. Lili Reinhart’s massive eyes are like laserbeams of manic certainty

Summer + Blair = Veronica: Veronica is the only person with sense this entire episode. like what would it have been like if it was Veronica and Jughead in the first part? and Archie seeing Josie get a pig’s heart! AND CHERYL IN SHERIFF KELLER’S MAN-SWEAT BASEMENT

it appears the singing bass salesman made a stop at the Kellers’ after he hit up FP Jones

Please protect Betty: Betty’s expression of defiant stoicism throughout her father’s apology on her behalf and Keller explaining himself even further

“Where-oh-where do you think you’re going, Sheriff?” TO LIVE HIS LIFE, BETTY?

he is wearing a very Black Hood outfit of the leather jacket (!) over a flannel with jeans

love the split-second shot of the camera flash

Veronica was rich: of course Veronica’s in like thigh-high boots or whatever

OOOOOOOOHHH HE’S DOING THAAAAAAAT WITH HEEEERRRRRRR!

Veronica was 1) correct and 2) says “broment”

Pop keeps delicate teacups around for “fancy” orders

Cheryl’s structured red coat!

can you believe Jughead left BEFORE Pop got that phone call?

THE RECKONING, Y’ALL, IT’S HERE! MAYBE ONE SINGLE MORE PERSON WILL DIE!

NEXT WEEK TWENTY HOURS FROM NOW: Cheryl makes FP clean up a milkshake, and I enjoy this very special purchase

#riverdale #i say #tropes #commentary

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