#it just popped into my head and you know what's also cheaper than therapy?

[bibmob]

Writing fanfiction is cheaper than therapy

in other words guess what is going in my fanfic next

~my fucking daddy issues~

#in other words I'm not dead #but just for a moment sometimes I wish I was #Woooooah that's dark back up girl #but no really today i might just go insane #don't mind my mind farts #this is obviously #not art #trash #it just popped into my head and you know what's also cheaper than therapy? #jokes #haha #sad but also funny #so I think a win #also I just realized those two words could be a whole self introduction #hi I'm sad but also funny

[buckybarnesbingo]

Titles Game

Tonight I'm Going Back to My Old Ways - suggested by @steverogersnotebook

@somesortofitalianroast - Bucky didn’t usually go for straight guys. Not since Brock in college, anyway. But tonight, all he could see was the blond across the bar. He was laughing with his friends, and he was gorgeous. Muscles for days, a body Bucky wanted to climb like a tree, and a wonderful smile that was a combination of Hallmark wholesome and downright dirty that shouldn’t have worked, but did. The piercing blue eyes just sealed the deal: Bucky was going to get him in his bed. (there would definitely be a tag in there about how they need to communicate and how Steve's not straight)

@wolfnprey - Bucky had settled down after he started a family. Everything told him he didn't deserve happiness, but he was beyond listening. Until some old ghosts showed up. Literal ghosts, and they were hellbent on making sure Bucky's life was upended. He'd buried the necronamicon in the basement ten years ago, but now he was digging it up with the help of his old partner. If only Steve was forgiving.

@steverogersnotebook - (Early recovering Bucky) finds it hard to come to terms with the modern Brooklyn, seeks out night clubs and smokes like a chimney in an effort to feel the way he remembers feeling.

@ribbonsflyingoutthewindow - Their relationship had been strained in a way that Bucky was pretty sure couple's therapy couldn't fix. Not that he had tried. He wasn't about to unload all of his trauma concerning not being his old self anymore on some poor middle-aged Brooklynite mother of three even if she did have a degree that supposedly helped. There was no way she was prepared to help a brainwashed assassin with a fault list from Coney Island to hell and back again. So instead he'd unloaded all of that on Natasha. As a best friend, she was legally obligated to listen to him anyway. And besides, she was cheaper; she could be bought with a whine and a wine. However, talking to Natasha also meant he got the cold, hard truth that his relationship was suffering not because he'd forgotten who he was and became a brainwashed assassin for decades, but because he'd forgotten who Steve was and hadn't spent a lot of time figuring it out again. So per his therapist's (Natasha's, whatever) advice, Bucky's getting back to his roots and rebecoming the man who knew everything about Steve Rogers and hoping that maybe somewhere along the line, he can figure out what it was that made the two of them work so perfectly together.

More under the cut!

Down the rabbit hole - suggested by @liquidlightz

@phoenixgryphon - MCU Nat going down the rabbit hole that is pre Cap2 TWS information

@steverogersnotebook - An edgy Alice AU where bucky meets the OUAT version of the mad hatter.

@somesortofitalianroast - Bucky wasn’t sure how, but he was constantly seeing the same figure out of the corner of his eye. A tall, muscular blonde, who seemed as though he wasn’t quite there, which was why Bucky was sure he was imagining the man, or confusing multiple tall muscular blonds. They weren’t as uncommon as one would think, and Bucky was so tired, so he decided not to worry about the blond. Until the day he literally fell down a rabbit hole - in Brooklyn, of all places - and ended up in another version of New York.

@wolfnprey -  Stripper AU. Nat drags Bucky to Down the Rabbit Hole for a particular stripper named Alice who is a beefy blond with bright blue eyes.

@bookdragon13 - Or alternatively: Steve goes to Storybrooke during his quest to find Bucky and meets Jefferson. Steve immediately goes “Bucky?” And Jefferson, in his sassy way, says “who the hell is Bucky?” But proceeds to use his hat to help Steve find his Bucky, if only to meet his lookalike Whether or not this becomes angsty, I’m not sure

@psychiccatpanda - Bucky In the 21st Century:  After spending too much time on the internet trying to figure out what some of the things he’d been hearing about really were, Bucky wishes he’d trusted Tony when he said, “Snowflake, there’s whole swaths of the interwebs you don’t want to know.  Trust me, please?”  Now, six and a half hours later, he knew that there was Avengers fan fiction (and what that consisted of) and Avengers cosplay porn.  He wasn’t sure what to do with this information.  But maybe he just needed to do some more research. After a snack.

@liquidlightz - Alpine was very protective.  Bucky loved gardening and he'd planted many different flowers, but there was a fat rabbit that kept popping by and eating all the best tulips, daylilies, you name it.  Bucky was hesitant to harm the creature, but Alpine was having no more of it.  She chased said rabbit down its hole and Bucky had to dig her back out.

@ribbonsflyingoutthewindow - Bucky’s family owned a farm so he'd had a plethora of pets his entire life, but when he'd moved to the big city, Bucky had stuffed Top Hat the white rabbit in her carrier and told her they were headed for the adventure of a lifetime, no looking back. And truth be told, sometimes New York was lonely. But the other truth was he didn't miss Indiana at all. He loved New York, but he'd never regretted his move more than the day he came home to discover Top Hat not in her enclosure. He had to go door to door on the entire floor and maybe the floor above and below his. Everyone had to help find his missing long-eared, fluffy-tailed best friend. Cue everyone in Bucky's apartment complex searching the entire building for one white rabbit trying to pull her own disappearing act. And cue Bucky searching for a rabbit, but finding maybe a little more along the way.

You pull hope from defeat in the night - suggested by @somesortofitalianroast

@steverogersnotebook - After a terrible loss on a mission, Bucky and [strained relationship/preferred pairing] are nearly wiped out themselves. One has to get out and get help for the other before it's too late for them too. In dragging the injured party to safety, promises made in supplication reignite hope for a resolution.

@somesortofitalianroast - (pre-serum!steve/Winter Soldier!Bucky) After exhausting missions, there’s nothing Steve likes better than hooking up with a guy at a bar, preferably one who would believe him when he said he wouldn’t break. Tonight, he chose the guy carefully, a big, beefy brunet with thighs for days and something about him that made him look gentle. One night turned into another. And another. And another…. Who said hookups couldn’t lead to love?

@bookdragon13 - Just when Bucky was feeling his lowest, walking around Brooklyn at night, he hears a faint meowing. Bucky finds the white kitten and takes it to the local vet. Afterwards, he couldn’t just leave the white fur ball behind, adopting her and giving her the name Alpine. With Alpine around, Bucky couldn’t help but start feeling like he could climb out of the hole he’d dug himself in. He can’t help but laugh at Alpine’s antics and when he’s having a bad day, she cuddles with Bucky as he rubs his fingers through her fur

@liquidlightz - Bucky had written off more cheques than his body could cash, yet again.  Losing badly at poker and getting beaten down for failing to pay up.  This night was turning out better than the last, as he found himself in the hands of a gorgeous Doctor with gentle hands who seemed to enjoy his attempts at flirting through bloodied teeth.  Things might be looking up, he was going to go all in and take another chance tonight.

@wolfarrowepz - (Winterhawk, hockey AU)The Avengers were eliminated in the second round of the playoffs.... less than a third of the team had been with them when they won the championship 3 years ago. Now all Bucky wants to do is go home and sulk and ice his knee in peace. Clint has decided he needs to come to dinner with the team to show all the rookies and new guys to show them that losing isn't the end of the world. Fuck it all if Bucky will do whatever Clint asks. Bucky he liked him since they joined the team together as rookies. Clint is 100% oblivious to every move Bucky makes but if Clint asks him to do something he will. Clint on the other hand is convinced Bucky isn't into him. Cue pining and the inevitable "of course I Like you, you dope!" moment.

With Steel and Silver Burning Heart - suggested by @ibelieveinturtles

@steverogersnotebook - Dragon trainer AU, Steve goes to slay the dragon, Bucky's the dragon trainer. They meet, they clash, they enemies to friends to lovers.

@phoenixgryphon - big beefy bucky the blacksmith.  who builds broadswords to bring in the bills

@somesortofitalianroast - (Regency!AU) James Barnes was well aware that he was the Marquis of Buchannan in name only. With no money left in the estates coiffers and three younger sisters - the oldest a mere year before her official debut - to support, he was desperate. Desperate enough to approach the new Duke of Brooklyn - a known rake with a history of getting in duels - with an offer: he supplies the cash for Rebecca’s debutante and in return, he gets James. But what happens when the purely financial relationship is no longer purely financial?

@liquidlightz - Bucky was not amused when the blade pierced his heart.  Fuck, that hurt! "You asshole", he berated his not-looking-so-hot-now date on the other end of that dagger, "I thought we were having a good time." Bucky had to thank his lucky stars, and not his wits, that this hunter was a moron and that blade was cheap metal and not silver.  He should, maybe, start being a little more discerning in his hookups.

@bookdragon13 - As a Knight of the Realm, Bucky was sworn to protect the royal family. He didn’t mean to fall in love with the Princess in the process. Neither did Bucky realize he was a jealous man, until he saw another knight, Brock, try to kiss the Princess, with her unwilling. Bucky immediately called Brock out, challenging him to a duel. When Brock was wounded, Bucky threatened that if Brock tried anything with Her Royal Highness again, he wouldn’t be so lenient.

#buckybarnesbingo2021 #bbb2021 #bbb discord party #titles game #party game

[let-the-dream-begin]

In My Daughter’s Eyes

"In my daughter's eyes, I am a hero. I am strong and wise, and I know no fear. But the truth is plain to see: she was sent to rescue me. I see who I want to be. In my daughter's eyes...And when she wraps her hand around my finger, how it puts a smile in my heart. Everything becomes a little clearer; I realize what life is all about. It's hanging on when your heart has had enough. It's giving more when you feel like giving up I've seen the light: It's in my daughter's eyes."

Claire’s husband has abandoned her and their daughter, Faith, because he is unable to handle her diagnosis of nonverbal autism. In order to start a new life, Claire has taken Faith to New York. Desperate for some kind of breakthrough in Faith’s treatment, she decides to try horse therapy, where she meets Jamie Fraser, Faith’s assigned hippotherapist. Claire is overwhelmed and touched by Jamie’s dedication to his work, and his particular dedication to her daughter.

Chapter 1: Four Incidents

Read on AO3

Claire’s nerves were positively shot. The past ten or so hours had been hell for her poor daughter, and, subsequently, for her as well. The first incident had arisen from the fact that four-year-old Faith had never been in such a crowded setting before. Immediately upon stepping through the doors of the airport and seeing the bustling hoards of people, she had begun yanking on her mother’s hand, digging her stubborn heels into the tile, and screaming her head off. Claire had come prepared; she had her noise-canceling headphones for the flight, but she hadn’t anticipated needing them for the airport itself. In actuality, it wasn’t really that loud, and so this tantrum had her absolutely dreading the upcoming flight.

Claire was used to the stares, the disapproval, the tuts of sympathy. She’d even heard her fair share of blatant, verbal criticism of her parenting. So, she let that roll off her back. What she wasn’t used to was Airport Police coming up to her and questioning what her intentions were with her own child. She’d had to stammer to them while her face and neck flushed red, tears of embarrassment stinging her eyes.

“Yes, I am her mother—You don’t understand; she has autism. She’s never been somewhere so crowded before. She’s just overwhelmed.”

Have you never bloody seen a child throw a tantrum before?

Well, perhaps they had, but they certainly hadn’t been privy to a Faith tantrum.

Panic began clenching her gut, remembering the time she’d been asked to leave a grocery store because Faith had wet herself, then proceeded to roll around on the floor, inconsolable. That had been the worst one to date.

This one was quickly rivaling it, however.

They asked her to provide proof that Faith was her child; proof that she was not kidnapping her.

“I can’t let go of her hand—please, she’ll run outside and right into traffic.”

“I’ll hold onto her, ma’am.”

“No—”

It was too late. The man put a hand on Faith’s shoulder, and all hell broke loose. Claire had to tighten her grip on her hand to the point of her knuckles whitening. If Faith was screaming before, now she was howling. The Airport Police were in a frenzy; they had no idea what to do.

“Faith! Darling, please, it’s alright.”

Claire let their suitcases go, dropped her purse and fell to her knees to wrap her arms around Faith’s middle from behind. It wasn’t long before a little fist collided with her lip. At some point in the proceedings, Claire had managed to say: “Look for our passports your fucking self if you really must have proof that she’s mine.”

They did.

“Faith! Faith Julia Randall, if you don’t stop this right now, there will be no dessert tonight.”

Another loud wail.

“Do you hear me? I’m going to count to ten, Faith. By ten, if you are not quiet, no dessert.”

Another cry.

“One. Two.”

Claire tasted blood in her mouth. Seemed that her daughter had given her another fat lip.

“Three. Four.”

By some bloody miracle, her thrashing was finally starting to calm.

“Five. Six.”

The screaming stopped.

“Seven. Eight.”

Faith’s full bodyweight collapsed into Claire, and Claire let out a sigh of relief. “Okay. There you go. Good girl…good girl.”

She rocked her gently, kissed her head. “Good girl, Faith. It’s alright now.”

The Airport Police were still standing there, stunned into silence.

“Uh…ma’am…your lip is bleeding.”

“I’m aware, thank you,” Claire snapped before returning her attention to Faith. “Shh…it’s alright…”

“I’m, uh…sorry for making it worse, ma’am,” the other officer said softly. “Would, uh…this help?”

He held something down to her, pointedly reaching for Claire and not Faith. Claire looked up to see him holding out a set of little plastic wings, clearly some “junior assistant pilot” badge they occasionally gave out to children.

“It might. Thank you.”

“I’m Officer Hansen, ma’am. Is there anything else we can do for you?”

“Just…just watch my bags until I’ve gotten her calm. Thank you.”

He nodded.

“Hey…Faithie…” Claire crooned, stroking her tear soaked cheek. “Look what Mummy has.” She held the little wings in her palm in front of Faith’s eyes. “Do you want to be a pilot, Faith? What about that?”

Hiccuping and coughing through her tears, she reached out for the wings and held them in her hands, examining them closely.

“Do you like it?”

Faith nodded ever-so-slightly.

“Shall we put it on?” She gently turned Faith around and took the pin in her hand, fastening it to a belt loop. Faith did not wear pins or wristbands in a conventional manner. The feeling of something poking her skin through her shirt or something rubbing her wrist caused her sensory overload, so the belt loop is where such things ended up.

“Good girl.”

Claire took her hand and made to stand up, but Faith uttered an indignant noise that froze her in her spot. She sighed in surrender.

“I’m afraid she’s going to make me carry her, or else we’ll all be privy to another tantrum…” Claire said, scooping her up and settling her on her hip. “Could you…would it be terribly inconvenient if you were to help with our luggage?”

“We’re police, ma’am, not busboys — ”

“I’d be happy to help, ma’am.” Officer Hansen cut the other officer off. 

“Thank you, thank you so much.” Claire practically burst into tears, overwhelmed with gratefulness.

She’d underestimated how difficult it would be to travel with a child as special as Faith alone.

Claire shook her head. She didn’t want to think about Frank right now.

Keeping Faith calm by making criss-cross patterns on her back with her fingertips and making a rushing “shh” noise in her ear for white noise, Claire and the officer made their way to the check-in counter. He handled her purse,credit card, and ID as well, and Claire could have gotten on her knees and kissed his feet. She could tell he was genuinely sorry for what had happened as a result of his and his partner’s ignorance, and he was determined to see that they got on their flight in one piece.

He also got them through pre-check, using his privileges to escort them through the faster line. Once they were through, he handed her back her purse and Faith’s carry-on Frozen backpack.

“I’ve put the boarding passes at the top so you can get to them easier. In case you never get to put her down.” He smiled apologetically. “I really am sorry — ”

“Please, it’s alright,” Claire said. “I really, really appreciate all you’ve done for us. You have no idea how hard it is to do this…”

“Alone,” he finished for her.

“Yeah.” Claire nodded.

“If there’s anything else you need, you can ask anybody with a walkie-talkie to page Officer Hansen. Alright?”

She smiled warmly. “Thank you. Truly.”

He nodded curtly and then went off.

The second incident had arisen when they’d come across a kiosk selling mini cereal boxes, and Faith’s eye had been caught by a box of Fruit-Loops that had Elsa on it. Claire had been loath to buy more cereal, being that she already had plain cheerios in Faith’s carry-on that had been much cheaper than the robbery for which the Fruit Loops were selling. She tried to resist, but fearing prompting another tantrum, she yielded. She bought the box and stealthily managed to switch the bag of Fruit Loops inside the box with the bag of Cheerios, knowing full well that the sugar content of the Fruit Loops would make the upcoming flight unbearable. 

So there they sat, waiting at the terminal, Faith kicking her legs and bouncing while clutching her tablet, watching Frozen with her noise-cancelling headphones on with Claire occasionally popping a Cheerio into her open mouth.

The third incident had arisen when it was time to board and Claire tried to put Faith’s pink sequined sleep-mask over her eyes to prevent her from seeing how close-quarters the aircraft was. She’d immediately moaned in protest, unwilling to tear her eyes away from the movie. Claire knew she was taking a leap of faith (and she laughed to herself  at the pun), but with bated breath she allowed Faith to simply walk onto the boarding bridge with her nose stuck in her tablet.

Before long, she was seated and buckled, tablet in her lap, her eyes never having left the screen.

It bloody worked.

Claire could have cried with relief.

Claire had to plead with the stewardess to convince her that Faith’s tablet was not a “large electronic device,” and the stewardess had conceded; as long as it stayed in her lap and the tray remained in the upright position, Faith could keep watching her movie.

The fourth incident, of course, occurred when the plane started to take off. Even with noise-cancelling headphones, the rushing mechanical noise and the feeling of the vibration everywhere was too much for her. She clamped her hands over her headphones, and she immediately began squirming, trying to unbuckle her seatbelt. Then, of course, the sensation of the take-off itself did not help at all. Claire had given herself a pep-talk every morning leading up to this flight for weeks: “It’s not your fault. The people judging you have no idea what you deal with every day. You can’t help her sensory overload. Ignore them.”

But she still couldn’t help the rush of embarrassed heat on her neck as the familiar side-eyes and conspicuous whispers began.

After literally clamping her hands down on Faith’s shoulders to keep her seated for about an hour, Faith finally became engrossed in the movie again. Claire had also prepared in that she knew getting Faith to use the bathroom on the aircraft would be a disaster. Since being potty-trained was still relatively new--even though she was four, potty-training an autistic child was a whole different animal--Claire had put a fresh pull-up on her right before they boarded to prevent as many trips as possible.

Finally, ten or so hours since the initial meltdown, Claire was standing at baggage claim, holding her sleeping daughter. She’d fallen asleep with about two hours left in the flight and slept straight through the descent and the landing, thank God. Claire had never been particularly religious, but she’d had the urge to cross herself upon realizing she’d be avoiding a fifth incident.

When the blaring alarm sounded, signaling that the baggage claim carousel was beginning, Faith jolted awake in her arms.

Fuck.

She began wailing again, clamping her hands over the headphones.

Do those bloody things cancel any noise?

Admittedly, it could have been worse. It seemed that she was just alarmed to be woken so suddenly, because, after about twenty seconds, she was calm again. Claire had to put her down to collect their baggage, and she struggled greatly to get the suitcase off the moving carousel with one hand. Letting go of Faith’s hand was simply not an option.

She was eternally grateful, then, to the stranger who helped her with both bags.

Bloody ironic that you’ve met two strange men today that have done more for you and your daughter than her own father.

Pushing that dark thought aside once more, Claire made her way to the taxi pick up area and strapped Faith into the rental car seat. Their 11:20 departure from Heathrow International had landed them at MacArthur Airport at 2:07 on the dot. After a seven hour and forty-five minute flight, there was only a twenty-two minute taxi drive and then they’d finally be in their new home: an apartment complex only a few miles away from Stony Brook University Hospital, where Claire would be doing her residency.

She’d never particularly imagined herself living in (or on, as they say here) Long Island of all places. After her unconventional and rather rugged upbringing, thinking of herself living in suburbia, only about an hour from those Hamptons she’d heard so much about, was enough to make her chuckle to herself. Gillian had assured her that the entire island wasn’t like the stereotype she’d imagined, which had slightly put her mind at ease. That wasn’t what had drawn her there, of course.

She’d been drawn to the area by a great many things. She wanted to be away from the cluttered, cramped feeling of Europe; away from Frank, quite honestly, as far as possible. She didn’t want to be in a city; she knew the noise would be far too much for Faith. The quiet suburbs of Long Island seemed to fit, and she’d heard excellent things about Stony Brook. Lastly, and most importantly were the amazing things she’d heard about equine therapy for special needs children. There were such places in England, but none had as many glowing reviews as the one that was only an eighteen minute drive from their new home: Harmony Stables.

Faith had always had an affinity for animals, and Claire felt guilty that she couldn’t commit to taking care of a dog so that she could have a service dog. It wasn’t the finances, per se, just the thought of having two lives to look after on her own was an overwhelming thought. Perhaps someday when they were settled. Faith’s psychiatrist in Oxfordshire had suggested some sort of animal therapy, and she spoke of the wonders equine therapy had done for a previous patient. At this point, Claire would try anything. Anything to calm the horrible anxiety that she knew plagued her daughter every second of any given day. The Risperdal was not doing much on its own. As much as the meltdowns fried Claire’s nerves and caused her much embarrassment, she was certain they fried Faith’s nerves about ten times as much. If learning to ride and forming a connection with a horse could take away even a fraction of that crippling anxiety, Claire would pay any amount of money to make that happen.

She’d also, of course, done research regarding her education. She was aware of the specific needs of her non-verbal autistic daughter; knew she needed to learn to communicate, either find someone to coax words out of her or learn sign language, knew she needed to learn how to read and how to behave in a public setting. She’d already made arrangements for a private tutor to come to the house like she’d done in Oxfordshire. She’d been in contact with a Mrs. Lickett, a lovely woman. Together, they would decide if Faith would be ready for a special needs kindergarten class come next fall, or if they should wait another year. Mrs. Lickett had assured her that it was common for children like Faith to continue with private instruction and wait to start real school until six or seven.

Claire’s reverie was broken when she felt the taxi stop and she looked up with wide eyes at the building before her. The buildings in the complex were only two stories high, the grass was neatly trimmed, and the doors were all stark white with shimmering gold numbers.

Well, it’s not a cul-de-sac housing development, but it sure still feels like suburbia.

Number eleven was theirs, on the second floor. The cab driver helped with the luggage as Claire tugged Faith up the stairs, eyes still glued to her tablet, which was now playing Sesame Street. Claire’s fingers shook as she pushed the key into the lock, and she exhaled sharply when she took in the sight of the living room. She’d had most of the things she didn’t want to replace sent over about a week and a half ago, along with ordering new essentials like furniture and mattresses. But the movers and delivery men hadn’t bothered to keep anything separated by room like she’d requested, except for the furniture itself. Sighing deeply, she sat Faith on the couch beside a stack of boxes and paid the taxi driver, thanking him profusely.

God…where do I even begin?

Claire supposed she should start with finding and unpacking bedroom items, preferring to have both of their beds made before they crashed tonight. Kitchen stuff could wait; they’d most definitely be getting takeout tonight…and probably every night for the foreseeable future.

She started to rifle through boxes and then she smiled and turned to Faith, intending to let her know how very exciting it was to be in their new home, but she bit her tongue. It would perhaps be better to leave her, for now, completely engrossed in the tablet. If Claire interrupted her now, who knows when she’d be able to get anything done? Sadness tugged at her heart briefly as she watched her daughter, a vague, absent smile on her face. She wondered if she had any idea at all what was going on, if she’d be anxious in a new environment, if it wouldn’t phase her at all, if she was excited. She had no way of communicating her thoughts and emotions, even to her own mother, and it was times like this where that thought pained Claire the most. 

She wanted nothing more than to blast her Disney playlist and christen the new living room with their dancing, to revel in this new beginning with her daughter. But for the sake of productivity, that would have to wait.

With a heavy sigh, Claire returned to her boxes, intent on finding bedsheets and blankets. She wanted to turn on music, knowing that she worked better that way, but she didn’t want anything to distract Faith from her, well, distraction. She settled on humming “Let it Go,” of all things, to herself while she worked to find what they’d need to carry out the rest of the day with some semblance of normalcy.

#outlander #outlander fanfic #outlander modern au #outlander au #claire beauchamp #claire fraser #jamie fraser #faith fraser

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Broken Like Me: The Party

Summary: Dean and the reader attend his agency’s annual party where they run into a not so friendly face...

Masterlist

Pairing: Model!Dean x reader

Word Count: 2,700ish

Warnings: language, small fight

A/N: Enjoy!...

_____

“Wow,” said Dean as you stepped out of the hotel bathroom. “Wow, sweetheart.”

“Is it bad?” you asked. He shook his head and stepped over with a big smile.

“It’s amazing. You look beautiful and hot and sexy and I just want to take that dress right off of you,” he chuckled.

“Considering the amount of time Carla spent finding this for me, I think she’d kill you,” you said. “How’s my back look?”

“As beautiful as the rest of you,” he said, touching a hand to your bare skin. It was an open back dress and far more risqué than you had any right to be wearing. Dean trailed his fingers over the faded scars covering the skin there. “I packed the emergency dress just in case.”

“Thank you,” you said with a smile. “But I’m okay. I love this dress and if your model friends have a problem with my scars, then fuck them.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, kissing your cheek. “I can’t wait to show you off.”

“Or we could skip this agency party thing and go to a nice dinner instead and then come back here and get naked?” you said.

“That is incredibly tempting but we flew all the way out here for Carla,” he said.

“I know,” you sighed.

“It’ll be okay. I promise.”

“Y/N, is that you?” said Carla when you got to the party. “Dean must be drooling.”

“Yes, he is,” you laughed, getting a hug from her, Dean getting his own.

“How you doing babe? Getting along with your parents? That goes for both of you,” she said.

“Yes, mom,” teased Dean. “It’s been pretty good. Y/N’s parents gave her her trust fund back. With interest.”

“To which we promptly decided to leave it be for kids and future weddings and all that stuff. Dean and I have plenty between our jobs,” you said.

“Well I’ve never worried about you two and money. So you’re doing better with your parents still?” asked Carla.

“Yeah. It’s a little awkward sometimes still. They grovel a little bit,” you said.

“They’re trying their best,” said Dean. “Excuse me ladies, I think I see a friend over there.”

“How’s he and his dad really doing? It’s like pulling teeth sometimes,” she said.

“John is going to Dr. Bram every other week,” you said.

“Really?”

“Yeah. John’s got a whole bunch of crap he’s gone through apparently. He’s still not a fan of going but he does it for Dean,” you said.

“It sounds like things are calming down for you two finally,” she said.

“Hopefully. We could do with some quiet,” you said.

“I take it you haven’t started wedding planning yet then,” she teased.

“My mom is looking at professional planners for us so that’s a joy,” you said.

“Want me to say anything?” she asked.

“No mom,” you laughed. “I’ll calm her down if she gets too wound up. Dean and I love each other. There’s no need to rush into a wedding.”

“A wedding is honestly just another day in your relationship, sweetie. It’s a very happy day where you celebrate your love for each other with friends and family. But in the end, it’s a day. You love him and the babe is head over heels in love with you. You’re young. Take the time to make it what you want it to be,” she said.

“Do you think I’ll ever get to the point where my mom would say something like that?” you asked.

“I think so. Dean and his father...I thought about coming to pay John a visit more than once and give him a piece of my mind. But now, they seem to be healing that relationship. I’m sure if you’re patient with them, you’ll get there.”

“I hope so,” you said.

“Well when I met you, you never would have been caught dead in a dress like that,” she said. “I think you got this.”

“Well the scars on my face and arms and chest are gone,” you said.

“Your back is actually not what I was expecting,” she said.

“I got a better scar cream,” you smiled. “A whole lot cheaper than laser surgery.”

“Dean ever offer to pay? He can plenty afford it,” she said.

“He brings it up now and again. He makes so much he doesn’t need. He just puts it out there that he would help if I choose to get rid of the rest,” you said. “A majority of the time though, the only person who ever seems them is Dean though so it doesn’t matter. I tell him to put the money towards something he wants.”

“Looks like what he wants right now is you to come save him,” she said, Dean looking like he was pleading with you to get over there. You walked over with a smile, Dean easing a little as you stopped at his side.

“So is this the farm girl that you gave up Calvin Klein for?” said a guy in a white suit, the other guy with them walking away.

“Down girl,” said Dean when you opened your mouth. “This is Kyle.”

“I think she was ready to tear my throat out,” laughed Kyle. “Nice to finally meet you.”

“Dean doesn’t speak kindly of many of his model friends. But Kyle Kendricks is always okay with me,” you said.

“I told you I’d win her over,” said Kyle.

“Yeah well you’re a loser so it’s not too hard,” chuckled Dean.

“I don’t think those pictures Dean posts of you did you justice, Y/N,” he said.

“Always a suck up,” you said. “Hey, how’d that shoot for the baby food go?”

“Didn’t happen. Super weird. I was ready to sign the contract and everything and apparently the owners themselves said they got somebody else in mind,” he said.

“Was it Gerber?” asked Dean.

“Nah, the other one,” he said. “I don’t have the new dad look they were going for.”

“Considering you do alcohol commercials, probably not,” teased Dean. 

“You been keeping him out of trouble lately?” asked Kyle.

“I do my best...unless of course I’m the one causing it.”

“You should come visit us sometime. We got great barbecue,” said Dean.

“I’m on a diet,” grumbled Kyle.

“Why?” you asked. 

“Calvin Kline contract is going up soon. Michael Reyburn is apparently more trouble than he’s worth,” said Kyle. Dean nodded and Kyle gave him a smile. “Dude I know it was your gig and-“

“I had it for all of five seconds,” he said. “It’s a lot of money if you can swing it. Just be careful bud.”

“Maybe I’ll stick with beer,” he said, getting a tap on the shoulder from a man. “I’ll talk to you guys later.”

“The way you described him you would think the man has a pocket protector and grandpa pants,” you said.

“Kyle’s a nerd. We always stuck together. That other guy was Jack Bilson. He’s besties with Reyburn so-“

“Also a dick. Good to know,” you said. “So how long do we have to be here?”

“An hour tops. I promise.”

“Well hello,” said a deep voice. You spun around from where you were eating a tiny piece of lobster on a cracker, the man chuckling at you. “That is a hell of a dress.”

“Thanks,” you said, your mouth full.

“You’re Dean Winchester’s charity case, right? Or maybe he’s yours.”

“I can see why they’re going with another model, Michael. Must be pretty hard to fill out those shorts with what you’re packing,” you said, getting a few laughs out of people close by.

“Sweetie you ought to see what a real man is like.”

“Then why the hell am I talking to you?”

“Never been with someone who looks like they beat a lawnmower in a fight,” he said. You smiled and glanced down, grabbing another snack and popping it in your mouth. “Do you ever stop eating?”

“Michael. Try therapy for why ever it is you’re so angry and leave me and Dean the Hell alone,” you said.

“Said the freak show,” he said.

“Reyburn,” said Dean as he came over, stepping in front of you. 

“Oh look, fatty’s here,” he said. Dean clenched his fist and you stood between them.

“Kindly apologize and leave,” you said.

He started to laugh and you got in his face.

“I literally pulled myself from a burning car only to then find myself bleeding out on the side of the road. You know what you do when that happens, Michael? You make a decision and I made the decision to shove my own fingers inside my rib cage to squeeze an artery shut. Do you know how much that hurts, Michael? Do you know what it’s like to sit there, putting yourself in excruciating pain just so you have a chance at living? No. No you don’t. I am very good at dealing with shit and that includes you. Now apologize, please, and stay away from him. Or else.”

“I see who wears the pants in the relationship,” said Kyle.

“I see who isn’t in a relationship,” you said. Michael narrowed his eyes and stormed off. You ate another cracker, turning to Dean. “This is so good. You got to try it.”

“You never talk about your accident,” he said.

“Because I don’t remember half of it,” you said. “Come on. He’s a douchebag. I want to go dance with my very handsome fiancé.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“I am so glad to be out of there,” you said when you were back in the hotel room.

“Remind me not to accept next year,” he said, shrugging out of his suit jacket and heading straight into the bathroom.

“You alright?” you called as you stepped out of your heels. You didn’t hear anything and undressed, walking into the bathroom naked and taking your hair out of its bun. “Mr. Winchester…”

“What?” he said grumpily before he spun around.

“What’s wrong, De?” you asked. He looked you over and rested his hand on your right side, tracing over the long scar there.

“You’re beautiful and I can’t defend you because I’m...this,” he said, glancing down at his body.

“I don’t need a man to defend me. He was bullying me and my best friend. I will always stand up for us,” you said. “My handsome and healthy soon to be husband.”

“Why would you even want me?” he asked.

“Because I love you,” you hummed, giving him a smile. He rolled his eyes and turned away.

“I’m gonna shower. You mind?” he asked.

“Alright,” you sighed. You left and went back to the bedroom, changing into a pair of shorts and one of his shirts. You flipped through the room service menu and ordered some fries and a brownie, listening for Dean to be done with his shower.

When it was still going by the time the food got there though, you went back in.

“Dean. I ordered a late night snack if you want some,” you said.

“I’m not hungry, sweetheart,” he said. You sighed and opened up the steamed up shower door. “What the hell?”

“It has been an hour. You never take showers this long unless you’re upset,” you said.

“I’m not upset,” he said. You stared at him and he groaned, turning off the water. He brushed past you for his towel and you rolled your eyes, going back to the room and nibbling at the food. He didn’t say anything as he came in a minute later, taking his clothes with him to the bathroom to change.

“Since when are we shy in front of each other?” you asked. Dean shook his head and went over to his suitcase, folding his suit nicely. “Silent treatment, very mature.”

“What is your problem? I want to be left alone,” he said, shoving the suit down.

“Tough shit,” you said as you knelt up on the bed. “I care about you and right now, I get the feeling I care a hell of a lot more about you than you do yourself so until further notice, I’m in charge.”

“You’re in charge? Of what?” he scoffed.

“Get in the bed.”

“Make me.”

You stared at him, Dean crossing his arms. You stood up and walked over to him, getting in his face.

“You gonna push me?”

“If you don’t want to talk then at the very least you can indulge me and go lay down on the damn bed,” you said.

He glanced down and went back to his suit, fixing it before he went to a side of the bed and sat down. You went right next to him, Dean stiff until you shifted behind him, wrapping your legs and arms around him.

“What are you doing?”

“Hugging you,” you mumbled against his shoulder.

“Do you remember that night I missed our date? I went to Dr. Bram’s and was a complete mess?” he asked.

“I remember you had a bad night,” you said. He put one of his hands over yours and held onto your arms.

“Part of that night was because of the model that got the contract after me. Reyburn. He made some nasty comments. I thought I was over it but apparently not,” he said.

“Dean. Yes, Michael Reyburn is a physically fit person and yes he is physically attractive. He’s also a horribly ugly person. He’s disgusting and mean. You on the other hand are the kind of person that made someone like me, someone so beaten down from a lifetime of crap, feel happy and beautiful and loved. You’re the most attractive person I’ll ever meet, Dean. The way you look on the outside, everything else, that’s just a bonus, De.”

He looked over his shoulder at you, peeling your arms away so he could turn and kiss you.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

“S’okay,” you said. You ran your fingers through his short strands, Dean curling into the touch. “They had cheese fries. I got them just for you.”

“I really should watch what I eat,” he said.

“You had a salad for lunch and we skipped dinner. I say it’s okay, Dean,” you said. “It’s got bacon-“

“That should have been your opener, sweetheart,” he chuckled. You gave him another kiss and hug before you let him go to the table and bring over the food. “I’m sorry Michael was such a pig to you.”

“Well he sounds like he has his own issues to work out,” you said. “Forget him. I also had a great idea while you were in the shower.”

“What’s that?”

“Instead of flying home, want to do a road trip? Hit up some of those places you see on the food channel on our way back?” you asked.

“So no flight and awesome food? I’m sold,” he said. “What about work?”

“I have a lot of unused vacation time. It’ll be fun. We’ve both been busy lately,” you said. “What do you say?”

“I say I’m going to marry a little genius,” he said. He kissed your nose and started to eat, the two of you quiet for a while, your head leaning on his shoulder when you finished. “Y/N.”

“Mhm?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Dean.”

______

#supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean #winchester #dean spn #au #model!dean x reader #timestamp

[when-they-write-stuff]

Sheriff Stilinski’s Guide to Courting

pairing: sterek

word count: 3.3k

notes: written for an ao3 requested prompt of sheriff stilinski and his attempts at giving derek dating advice in regards to his son. i might’ve had too much fun with this.

John was pretty sure this shouldn’t be his problem.

He would rather not actively participate in his son’s love life, thank you very much. Especially when he was pretty sure his son’s ‘love life’ consisted of chaotic pining after the angry werewolf that the Sheriff had been working to put behind bars two years ago. 

See, John was pretty sure said angry werewolf might be pining after his son too. Just not as chaotically. In fact, there was no chaos. Just longing looks and angsty glares that made even John want to groan.

He was pretty sure this wasn’t his problem. His time should never be spent actively participating in his son’s love life.

But then the Sheriff realized the only way he was ever getting any mental peace again would be when his son and Derek Hale were no longer dancing around each other. And so, with a sinking heart, the Sheriff realized he was going to have to take part in making sure that happened.

First of all, he would like to say he did not ask for this. 

Second of all, it was hard.

It started when John walked past his son’s room one day, paused, and then quickly backtracked to see Derek sitting on his son’s bed.

Stiles was nowhere to be seen. The kid was still at lacrosse practice if John remembered right, and probably wouldn’t be home for another hour or so. But here Derek was, sitting. On Stiles’s bed. Alone in an empty room with his leather jacket sitting on his lap and his face always perpetually scowling. Until he saw the Sheriff staring, that was.

John blinked at him and Derek blinked back. The man had gone shock-still, looking like a deer caught in headlights, and his eyes were full-blown wide. Leaning against the bedroom door, John raised one eyebrow and sighed.

“Hello there, Derek.”

“Sir.”

“Do I want to ask what you’re doing here?”

The man shifted uncomfortably. “I’m waiting for Stiles.”

“He’s at the school.”

“I know.”

“And he won’t be back for a while still.”

“... I know.”

The Sheriff pressed his lips together and nodded. He really didn’t think he wanted to press, but he was pretty sure he couldn’t leave Derek sitting alone in his son’s bedroom either. Because that would be wrong, right? That would probably be wrong.

“Might I ask why you’re waiting for Stiles?”

For a long moment, he didn’t get an answer. Then Derek ducked his head and mumbled the word “Research” so quietly, John almost didn’t catch it. Because unlike Hale, he wasn’t a werewolf. He didn’t have super hearing, dammit. 

John made a mental note not to remind himself it was a werewolf— not just a man— sitting in his son’s bedroom. Because he was pretty sure that would create a whole new list of problems.

“So, research,” he said, almost enjoying the look on Derek’s face. “That’s all?”

“Yes sir.”

“There’s nothing else going on here?”

Derek’s face turned bright red and he quickly shook his head. The Sheriff pressed his lips together and nodded. There were a lot more things he could say; a lot more things he should probably say. But John decided that was enough interference for the day. He’d have a conversation with Stiles when he got back from practice. 

You know, about how werewolves probably shouldn’t be camping out in his room on a school day.

“Okay then,” John said, and Derek looked both shocked and relieved. “If you want a cup of coffee while you’re waiting, the kitchen’s wide open. And if you made Stiles a snack for when he gets home, I’m pretty sure he’ll be much more receptive to this… research.”

Derek stared at him with wide eyes before nodding. John chuckled and turned away, continuing back down the hall. He thought he’d handled that fairly well. Or… as well as possible, at least. How was he even supposed to address something like that?

John was pretty sure he didn’t want to get involved. He really didn’t want to get involved.

He just didn’t realize yet that he didn’t have a choice.

-

The next time John stumbled across things he didn’t mean to, he started to realize he either went along with it or moved to another town. Because Derek Hale was always there. And it seemed his son was too.

John liked when he got to do the grocery shopping because that meant he could buy the things he wanted to. Stiles never let him buy steak or frozen meals or anything actually edible when he tagged along, and when the boy went out by himself, he never came home with anything other than vegetables and whole wheat pasta. So John cherished the days when he could do the shopping himself.

The moment he entered the store, he made a beeline for the frozen meats section. But John didn’t expect to pass the ‘Personal Care Products’ aisle and see two figures standing there that he recognized very well. 

Moving slowly back, John peered at Derek and his son, and then glanced at the different packages of bandages that Stiles was holding.

“These might be cheaper, Derek,” the boy said, waving one through the air. “But they also sop up less blood. When one of us is bleeding out, Sourwolf, which would you prefer? The bandages that last five seconds and then let you bleed to death, or the ones that basically hold you together?”

“I would rather not have either of us bleeding out at all,” Derek said flatly, and the Sheriff decided truer words had never been spoken. He’d never thought he’d be listening to his son talk about his possible injury and death, but no father should have to hear something like that. Ever.

He stepped forward, clearing his throat, and both Stiles and Derek whirled around.

Derek’s eyes went as wide as saucers. But Stiles only went shock-still for a moment before putting a bright smile on his face and straightening up.

“Pops, dad, father-mine! What a coincidence to see you here!”

“Coincidence indeed,” the Sheriff said, looking at the bandages and then back at his son. “Can I assume someone is not currently dying?”

“Not yet!”

“Not… yet.”

“Stiles,” Derek hissed, elbowing the boy in the ribs. Stiles made a protesting noise of pain and elbowed the man back, and the Sheriff resisted the urge to facepalm.

This was his son, ladies and gentleman. And the Alpha werewolf he had somehow come to tame.

“So,” John said. “This is what you do in your free time?”

“Only when necessary.”

“Do I want to know what that means?”

Stiles ran a hand through his hair and shrugged, a sheepish look replacing the one of amusement on his face. “Only when we run out of bandages.”

The meaning behind that was obvious. John really questioned everything sometimes; like maybe his decision to not lock Stiles in his room and make him study online until graduation. Then he could let him back out into the world and make sure he went to college somewhere far, far away from Beacon Hills.

The Sheriff really lingered on that fantasy sometimes. Even though he knew he’d never be able to tear Stiles away from the supernatural. Not today, not tomorrow. He hoped maybe one day the boy would finally get some peace, but that didn’t seem to be in the near future.

Derek’s face was scarily pale beside the boy. John only sighed.

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

“I will not,” Stiles said, dropping the more expensive bandages into the basket that Derek held and moving forward to snoop through the Sheriff’s cart. He wrinkled his nose and picked out a bag of chips, a container of cookies, and a loaf of white bread that the Sheriff had put in there earlier. “But these will. This is why you’re not allowed to go grocery shopping alone.”

“It warms my heart when my son tells me what to do.”

“Only because I care,” Stiles said with a grin, putting the items in Derek’s basket instead of back in the Sheriff’s cart. John was sad to see the cookies go. “Now you may go check out, pops. And don’t even think about making a pit stop in the frozen meats section.”

“I deserve steak,” the Sheriff mumbled. Stiles snorted.

“You deserve to live a nice long, full life without any heart problems.”

“You’re a heart problem.”

“See,” Stiles said, glancing toward Derek. “You think you have it rough dealing with me. When my dad gets hungry, he’s like a pouty teenager. Even though we all know he’s much too old to ever be considered a teenager again.”

“Okay,” the Sheriff said, grabbing his cart and starting past them. “And now I’ve had enough of my own son for the day.”

“I love you, pops!”

John only huffed. But before he moved fully by, he hesitated and grabbed a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, setting it in the basket next to the bandages. Derek’s face did fifty more things, finally resting on blank terror, and the Sheriff was quietly pleased that he could incur such fear in a man like Derek Hale.

Because Derek Hale was a werewolf. John was pretty sure that when he was shifted, even a bullet to the chest would take its time stopping him.

But clearly John’s mere presence made Derek tremble in his fancy leather jacket. 

“Quick tip,” John said quietly, leaning closer so Stiles couldn’t hear. “If you buy him a packet of Reeses at checkout, he’ll be well behaved for the rest of the day.”

Derek’s eyes snapped to the Sheriff’s face and he just stared for a moment. Then, still pale, Derek nodded. The Sheriff smiled and moved back away. He didn’t glance back, but he could feel Derek watching at him the entire time he moved down the aisle.

John didn’t buy himself any steak, mourning that loss. But he did pick up a packet of Reeses for his own self at checkout. Because he was a simple man and chocolate was therapy.

And John had no doubts he was going to need a lot of chocolate before this was all over.

-

See, the Sheriff didn’t know why he was going along with all of this. He was pretty sure it would make his life easier in the end but with a son like Stiles, he couldn’t know that for sure. 

It just seemed once the Sheriff started stumbling across things, apparently he couldn’t stop.

He tried to sneak into the diner and found Stiles laughing in a booth with Derek at his side. The man had looked like he was about to pass out when Stiles had gone to the bathroom and John had crossed over, offering a wide smile and pointing out that Stiles liked milkshakes, so Derek should attempt that.

Not a week later, Derek was arrested for standing outside the Stilinski house at night (not by John, of course. He’d gotten used to Hale and his strange habits by now) and the Sheriff had been the one to let him off, saying maybe he should consider talking to Stiles instead of silently lingering in the shadows.

One month passed and the Sheriff realized he was criss crossing paths with Derek and his son everywhere. At the movies (‘pack night’ without the pack), out in the preserve (‘stakeout’), and back in Stiles’s bedroom for a second time (except it was 2 am and Stiles was there too. John would believe ‘research’ when pigs started to fly). 

And the thing was John was pretty sure this shouldn’t be his problem.

He hadn’t asked to be caught in the middle of his son chaotically pining after Derek Hale and Derek Hale aggressively but silently pining back. Nothing John had ever experienced had prepared him for this.

And in the end, he realized it came down to him. John didn’t think that was fair at all.

To his surprise though, he didn’t have to make the first move. John didn’t expect to hear his doorbell go off that day and he really didn’t expect to see Derek Hale on the other side when he opened the door. Because Hale never rang the doorbell. In fact, John had always thought he didn’t even know that was a thing.

Derek shifted from foot to foot with his hands stuffed in his pockets. John raised a brow.

“Good afternoon, Derek.”

“Sir.”

“Stiles isn’t here.”

It was so similar to their first conversation, the Sheriff didn’t know why they hadn’t just had it months ago. Derek’s face turned bright red and he ducked his head, nodding. “I know.”

“So is there anything I can help you with?”

If possible, Derek’s face turned even brighter red. He looked at the ground for a moment before raising his eyes. “I came here to talk to you, sir.”

“You don’t have to call me sir, Derek.”

“... Sheriff?”

“John is fine, son.”

John didn’t know what he was expecting, but for Derek to look shocked and then terrified wasn’t it. For a moment, he truly thought the man would make a run for it. But then Derek cleared his throat and nodded, and John stepped aside, opening the door wider.

Derek stepped inside, glancing around. He shuffled his feet and John was pretty sure he had never seen the man look so nervous.

“So, Derek. You came to speak to me?”

“I don’t know what you’re doing, sir.”

The Sheriff blinked at him. That also wasn’t what he was expecting. “Sorry?”

“Stiles is… always around lately, sir,” Derek said quietly. “And I like him being around. But I’m… not good with that. Until you’ve helped me be good with that. But I don’t know why you’re helping me be good with that.”

Oh. Oh.

“I’m sorry,” Derek said quietly. “I can go and make sure he doesn’t come back to the loft again. I didn’t mean to—”

“Derek, what the hell are you talking about?”

Derek looked up and his expression could only be described as shocked confusion. The man glanced around the room, toward the door, and then back at John. “If you don’t want me around him. If that’s not what you meant to do. I can make sure it doesn’t happen again—”

“You will do no such thing.”

Derek’s mouth snapped closed and he just looked surprised. The Sheriff rubbed a hand over his face, sighing. “Derek, you like my son, don’t you?”

“... Sir.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Sheriff.”

“Derek.”

“John,” the man said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“Please stop apologizing.”

Derek looked like that’s the last thing he had been expecting. John resisted the urge to go to the kitchen and grab a beer. He thought he deserved one, but he didn’t think Derek deserved the terror that would probably follow such actions. So instead, he gestured to the couch and, as Derek slowly moved over and sat down, sank into the armchair opposite of him.

“The last thing I want for you to do is push Stiles away,” John said. Derek’s eyebrows shot up and John waved a hand through the air. “Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t excited about it at first. But he’s… happy. More than he has been in a while.”

Derek didn’t move. Didn’t say a word. John studied his face.

“Will you ever hurt my son, Derek?”

“Of course not.”

“Will you ever put him in danger or put yourself before him?”

“Never.”

“Then I don’t know what you want me to say, son,” the Sheriff said, tilting his head. “Do you want me to tell you not to see my son anymore?”

Derek actually looked like he was considering that for a moment. And suddenly, all John could see was the fifteen-year-old kid sitting in the Sheriff’s station, wrapped in a blanket, covered in ash, and staring blankly at the floor. The very image hurt him.

Finally, Derek shook his head. “No, sir.”

“John.”

“No… John.”

“Then let me get you a drink,” John said, pushing himself up and moving toward the kitchen. He stayed in there longer than was probably necessary, but he was still trying to figure out the man currently sitting on his couch. Derek Hale was… well, he was something.

When the Sheriff came back out, Derek looked like he’d been sitting stock-still the entire time. John passed him a beer and sighed.

“So what do you need?”

“Si— John?”

“What is it called when a werewolf courts a human, Derek? Do I even want to know?”

Derek’s face turned bright red. “It’s just dating, sir.”

“And are you planning on doing that?”

Derek stared at him; silent and blank faced. John sighed for what felt like the hundredth time, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Are you planning on dating my son, Derek?”

He might as well have threatened to shoot the man. Derek tensed up and glanced toward the door and once more, the Sheriff wondered if he’d genuinely make a run for it. He quickly raised his hands like he was trying to calm a startled animal.

“I asked the question, Derek, I’m not going to shoot you for answering.”

“I… I don’t know, sir. Sheriff. John.”

“Are you wanting to?”

Derek glared at his beer as if it had personally offended him. But he still nodded. The Sheriff wondered for a moment how he’d gotten into this position before remembering he’d basically let Hale into his house in the first place. Technically, this was his fault.

“Just get him curly fries before you ask, Derek. Curly fries put Stiles in a state of euphoria.”

Derek’s eyes snapped up. “What?”

“Curly fries, Derek.”

“You’re giving me permission to date your son?”

“If you hurt him in any way,” the Sheriff said, pointing a finger at the man. “I will personally stock up on wolfsbane bullets and make good use of them.”

Derek’s face whitened. He nodded silently.

“You’re a good kid, Derek,” John said, dropping his hand. “I don’t expect that’ll ever be necessary.”

“No, sir.”

“Though it might be if you continue calling me sir.”

“No, John.”

The Sheriff smiled at that. This was progress, he thought. Not that he’d ever seen himself giving ex fugitive and literal werewolf Derek Hale advice on how to court his son. He wondered if Claudia would be exasperated or proud of him.

Probably both.

“So,” the Sheriff said. “Anything else?”

Derek glanced from his bottle, to the Sheriff, and then toward the door. Shaking his head, he pushed himself up and set the bottle on the coffee table. He hadn’t even touched it. “No, John. Uh… thank you.”

“Please never mention this to Stiles.”

John could’ve sworn Derek nearly smiled. He hadn’t thought that was possible (did it come with being a werewolf or was that an eyebrow thing?) but John was pretty sure he knew what he saw. Derek Hale smiling. In his house. What a trip.

This entire visit was unexpected from one point to the next. 

The Sheriff followed him to the door and Derek looked like he was going to say something else, but then he turned and quickly exited the house. John watched him all the way to his Camaro before shutting the door with a long, heavy sigh.

He would like to say first of all, he did not ask for this. 

Second of all, it was hard.

And third of all? Well, the Sheriff needed some chocolate. Maybe a few steaks. But he also thought that could have been worse; and he was never doing it again.

His time should never be spent actively participating in his son’s love life.

Never again. 

- -

(if you enjoy my writing, consider supporting your underpaid student writer? You can also request a prompt if you’d like!). https://ko-fi.com/rh27writer

#sterek #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #derek hale #sheriff stilinski #all the fluff and humor #prompts #ao3 stuff

[pinnithin-writes]

Good Jokes

Chapter 3

Gordon had become increasingly protective of Tommy as the day went on, which would be sweet if it wasn’t ridiculously unnecessary.

The team reached an area equipped with automated defenses, steel paneled rooms studded with turrets that fired off rounds indiscriminately. Apparently Black Mesa’s heat seeking technology wasn’t refined enough to differentiate between friend and foe. Or maybe no living soul was allowed in this part of the facility regardless of planar origin.

Either way, they were all getting shot at.

They took cover, shielding themselves from the popcorn of gunfire. Tommy tucked himself behind a wooden crate, content to wait it out, when he heard hollering from the other side of the room.

“Tommy!” It was Gordon, lying flat on his belly around a corner. He was panting, curly hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, adrenaline making his dark eyes wild. “Get out of the open!”

Tommy tried his best to make the short sprint across the room not look like a stroll. Once he was out of firing range, he stood against the wall and tucked his hands in the pockets of his lab coat. Gordon was still prone, popping the occasional stray alien with the pistol in his hand. He passed Tommy an incredulous look, and Tommy was only able to stare back mildly.

It wasn’t that Tommy was hiding the fact that bullets had no effect on him, exactly. He just figured Gordon was already dealing with enough already without Tommy adding, “hey, by the way, my dad is a god and I inherited his power,” on top of it. Didn’t want to break the guy’s brain any more than it already was today.

Lamely, he tried lightening the mood. “It’s okay, the turrets can’t hurt you,” Tommy said, gunfire crackling around them. “It's part of our… turret-ing test.”

Nailed it. Puns were good sometimes, right? Gordon had been chuckling at his silly rhymes a few minutes earlier. Maybe a pun would land.

“I don’t know what you just said to me!” Gordon shouted over the noise, twisting to fire off a round at an advancing creature.

Tommy sighed and casually jammed the turret with a subtle wave of his hand. This afternoon was way too loud. He needed a break. Five minutes of silence. Please. The gunshots died.

When the coast was clear, Gordon clambered to his feet and the rest of the group emerged from their respective positions of shelter. They gathered in the room together, casting wary glances at the automatic rifle bolted to the wall.

Gordon flicked a questioning look to Bubby, who had so far shown the most initiative in their endeavors aside from Gordon himself. “Did you deactivate it?” he asked.

The other scientist just shrugged and made a noncommittal sound before excusing himself to investigate the surrounding area with Dr. Coomer. Tommy, seeing the concern on Gordon’s face, tried once again to reassure him that they were safe. Give him a little peace of mind while still keeping it vague. He wanted to iron that troubled wrinkle out of his forehead.

“It can’t hurt you if you’re smart,” Tommy told him, the words falling out of his mouth without a real plan. “That’s… why we’re all scientists…”

Oh, no. Too vague. Gordon, apparently misinterpreting his nonchalance for ignorance, turned his anxious stare on Tommy. And then he was raising a gloved hand toward Tommy’s face. And then, oh god, he was cupping Tommy’s cheek, locking eyes with him intently.

“Buddy, buddy, buddy, buddy,” Gordon told him. “That’s not how that works. That’s not how that works.”

Tommy’s pulse was running a marathon under his skin. He couldn’t look away. Gordon’s eyelashes were… so long. He and Gordon both were flecked with blood and alien guts, surrounded on all sides by enemies, and all Tommy could do was stare. Why was he fixated on this, why was he like this? He could cruise through a room riddled with crossfire no problem but he froze when the new guy touched him?

Gordon dropped his hand to Tommy’s shoulder, gripping him firmly, still pinning him in place with those dark, fervent eyes. “I need you to preserve yourself,” he went on seriously. “I need you to keep yourself safe, so that you don’t-”

Tommy frantically interrupted Gordon before any more words could come marching out to shock his brain. “This is the Turing test room,” he blurted, reiterating his earlier pun. “The turret ing test room.”

The record in Gordon’s head skipped for a second before he caught the joke and began snickering. He released Tommy to cover his hand with his mouth as he shook his head. Tommy relaxed an infinitesimal amount. Crisis averted.

Bubby, who had returned and was hovering nearby, sent Tommy a cool look before turning his attention to Gordon. “I found a present for you,” he said, beckoning him toward an adjacent room.

Gordon’s head snapped up. “The gun?”

He followed the old man out of the sector with the turret, and Tommy, red-faced, had to take a second alone to calm his racing heart. That was… a lot. It made sense; Gordon himself was a lot. But Tommy hadn’t expected to be so utterly blindsided by the exchange. He drew in a deep breath, let it out slow.

Gordon Freeman was a passionate, caring guy who would have insisted any idiot running through a sheet of bullets should keep themself safe. And he was so wired on stress, maybe he would have clutched at anyone’s face to drive his point home. Tommy had a feeling that wasn’t the case, though, and it scared him as much as it thrilled him.

He composed himself and rejoined the group. Benrey, lounging unhelpfully on a crate in the corner, caught his eye when he entered the room. He sneered and made a jerking off motion. Classy.

---

Things got easier for Tommy once they gave him a Glock.

He hadn’t used one of these in a while, but he remembered the rudimentary training they gave him when he took his position in the Anomalous Materials department. Bullets paled in comparison to spontaneous combustion in terms of alien elimination, but they got the job done. Pulling the trigger and feeling the kick in his hand was incredibly satisfying.

It also felt good to charge ahead at the front of the group, firing off rounds at blinding speeds. Punching bullets through the monsters that lurched toward them was an excellent way to burn off some of the pent up anxiety he had been collecting. He watched sickly green gore spatter the wall as he picked off another one. Cheaper than therapy, he thought wryly. They were… all going to need therapy after this.

Tommy had to admit the admiration his marksmanship drew from Gordon was equal parts gratifying and hilarious. He might as well have been playing hopscotch in the middle of an air raid. Tommy could snap his fingers and immolate these beings instantly if he really wanted to. Freeze the blood solid in their veins. But he wasn’t a showoff, so he accepted the man’s compliments by chalking it up to instinct, keeping his head down and playing the mortal game with a mortal weapon.

At one point, he peeled off from the group to neutralize one of the lumbering beasts they were being accosted by, leaving his colleagues high up on a catwalk and out of danger. It should have been an easy shot for Tommy, but Gordon’s protective streak was apparently a mile long, and he scrambled down to his level to attack the creature with the crowbar. Tommy watched him, bemused, as he took out the alien on his behalf. So brave. So utterly pointless.

He flicked his wrist and winked Gordon out of there, carefully depositing him back up on the catwalk. Faintly, he heard Bubby utter a bewildered, “how did you do that?” to an equally puzzled Gordon and let out a private chuckle to himself.

They eventually reached a cafe of sorts, and after they cleared the room of monsters, Tommy set to brewing up drinks from the machine on the wall. Coffee was good. He always felt he operated at a little slower pace than the steady sprint of time, and caffeine tended to catch him up with everyone else. The other scientists, thoroughly wiped, settled down on the floor to catch their breaths and slow their racing hearts.

Sitting in a circle, mugs in hand, they talked. Grounded themselves in some normalcy. Got to know each other a bit. Benrey was nowhere to be seen, off somewhere doing whatever it was that shithead entities did, which made the flow of conversation infinitely smoother. Tommy sipped the house blend, listening to Gordon as he led the discussion, prompting the team with questions about their homes, their families.

His mouth really never stopped, did it? Gordon had been pelleting them with words ceaselessly almost the entire day; one would think he’d need a break eventually. It was nice that he was curious about his colleagues, though. The fact that the group consisted of a lab experiment, a clone, and a demigod made conversation a little tricky, but Gordon’s genuine interest and concern for each of their lives was lovely.

Tommy learned that Bubby did, in fact, possess a sense of humor, catching Gordon with a zinger about friendship that was as touching as it was mean. Dr. Coomer had his own jokes, too, and Tommy just about snorted into his coffee when he declared, “I had a wife, but they took her in the divorce.” These guys weren’t bad, Tommy decided. Just a little unhinged.

And then Gordon’s attention was on him. “How ‘bout you, Tommy? Where are you from?”

He was from here, of course. Well, technically, he was from all over. His father had made sure Tommy took in a wide range of experiences as he grew up, but he always returned to Black Mesa like a homing pigeon in the end. While the facility had its flaws, the New Mexico wilderness that surrounded it was beautiful. Tommy loved the desert, and he liked to think the desert loved him back.

How did Tommy put something like that into words? How did he explain to Gordon that his only family was an ageless, supernatural being with the ability to bend time and space to his will, and a golden retriever? Coffee steamed in his face as his brain disconnected from his mouth.

“I don’t know, I’m an orphan,” he answered, haltingly. Then, because that was a fucking depressing lie, he cheerfully added, “but I have a dog!”

Gordon, caught off guard, let out a startled laugh. God, those dimples were just stunning. “What’s your dog’s name?” he asked.

“Sunkist,” Tommy answered fondly.

He had no reservations about sharing his dog with the man sitting across from him. He loved Sunkist, and he imagined Sunkist would like Gordon if they ever met. He could already picture the guy’s cheerful smile as he patted the retriever’s head. Good dog. Best friend.

“You named your dog after a soda?” Gordon asked, still grinning outright. “You really like soda, huh, bud?”

He briefly squeezed a hand on Tommy’s knee, and his stomach did a funny swoop like it was on the end of a yo-yo. Tommy blankly held Gordon’s expectant stare for a while and then realized he hadn’t answered.

“Yeah,” was all he could come up with in response.

He sure did like soda. Helped him see faster. That was a thing he had said today. Tommy had said a lot of things today. He was usually a man of few words, but Gordon got him talking, pulled the dialogue right out of him, whether it made sense or not.

And hell, he wanted to keep talking, which was a new feeling for Tommy. He wanted to keep sitting here on this grimy tiled floor and drink coffee and shoot the breeze with this little ragtag team all afternoon. When it was time to move on, he was reluctant to get going.

The apocalypse, however, waits for no one. So he went.

---

Further along in their road trip through hell, Tommy’s father made an appearance. His haunting visage materialized down a hallway, the air shimmering and warping around him like a desert mirage. Nobody really noticed he was there, but Tommy saw him. He always did.

It was later than he expected; Tommy had hoped his father would have found him hours ago to fill him in on what was happening, but that, apparently, was not his plan. His swirling eyes met Tommy’s from where he stood a few yards away. The crimson security lights made him look ghoulish. He didn’t say anything.

Tommy wordlessly jerked his thumb toward the team of scientists he had been tagging along with. Raised an eyebrow. These guys have anything to do with it? his motions asked.

His father tipped his chin back and passed a glance to the distracted team, then back to Tommy. He gave a solitary nod.

Tommy pointed to himself. And me?

He smiled like a bobcat on a moonless night. You are exactly where you need to be.

Tommy sighed. His dad was playing chess again. Odds were he knew far more about the Resonance Cascade than he let on, and was choosing to leave Tommy in the dark to further whatever ends he had in mind. Tommy didn’t exactly resent him for it - possessing cosmic knowledge would probably make anyone’s parenting style a little strange - but he’d appreciate at least a hint about what was happening.

Gordon suddenly pulled up beside him, shining his flashlight directly into his father’s face. The man just eyed him back silently, unaffected by the harsh beam of light. Tommy watched Gordon’s gaze focus disbelievingly on the mirage in front of him.

“Who’s this?” he asked.

“What?” Bubby called distantly. He was working on an exit door further down the hall, trying in vain to bust it open while Coomer hooked his fists at the deadbolt.

“The guy in the suit,” Gordon clarified. He gave a concerned look to Tommy. “You see that, right?”

Still clutching his flashlight, he was glancing back and forth between Tommy and his father, grasping at a shred of assurance that he wasn’t completely losing it. Tommy looked back at him pityingly. He wanted desperately to explain things to Gordon, to tell him that there was a plan, to offer his hand in an act of trust.

But his father was staring at both of them wolfishly, and he bit down on his words. Later, perhaps. When Tommy himself felt he had a firm enough grasp on the situation to relay it to Gordon accurately.

Tommy shook his head. It felt like he was slapping Gordon across the face.

Bubby, impatient, scoffed, “What are you talking about? Open the door.”

Gordon ripped his attention away from the shimmering man in front of him. “It’s locked, bro,” he called, and he left Tommy’s side to do damage control. “You can’t - stop. Don’t shoot it open.”

The fact that Tommy’s father had revealed himself willingly to Gordon indicated that he was a person of interest to him. Knowing how he operated, Tommy deduced that this could either be very good or very, very bad. He gave the man a tight-lipped smile. Good to see you, dad.

His father winked. Keep him safe.

I was already doing that, Tommy wanted to argue, but his father was warping out of the room, leaving him to handle the consequences of a dimensional rift on his own. Tommy rubbed his temples with his fingertips. Back to the chessboard.

Chapter 2 <-----> Chapter 4

#ink #fanfiction #good jokes #part of my endeavor to relocate all my ao3 work #guns #violence #hlvrai

[theurbanologist]

On Charleston’s King Street, You Can Get a Bomb Pop---And Some Advice

On Charleston’s King Street, you will find the calming Blue Bicycle Books. It is a refuge of books with employees selections prominently displayed (The Preppy Handbook, anyone) and a selection of works by the late Pat Conroy, autographed by the man himself. 

Why would you ever leave such a refuge? 

What other nearby business could draw you away from elegantly signed copies of The Great Santini?

Bomb Pops, my friends. 

This traveling van sits in a parking lot immediately north of this repository of elegantly bound books—it is hard to miss, with its blaring music and a menu that promises gourmet wine pops, jello shots, and four flavors of foot-long triple shots. 

I hear the siren call of Ludacris’s “What’s Your Fantasy” and as I step up to the open service window, the line “I WANNA LICK LICK LICK YOU FROM YOUR HEAD TO YOUR TOES” is punctuated by these words:

FIRST CUSTOMER OF THE DAY LET US GET THIS THING STARTED BIG GUY

This invitation slash declaration is the loudest voice I’ve heard in months from any single flesh and blood human being—it is both refreshing and terrifying. 

“Hey, this is great. What do you have that is less sweet?”

HAHAHAHA THAT IS NOT THIS BOOZE VAN BUT IF I HAD TO SAY IT WOULD PROBABLY BE THE LEMON DROP

“Okay, I’ll take a Lemon Drop”

It looks like the long frozen novelty from my childhood and I ask him “How is this legal? Can you drink on the street in Charleston?”

NO YOU CANNOT SIR BUT THIS IS A FROZEN FOOD PRODUCT SO THERE YOU GO. YOU ARE LUCKY THAT THIS IS NOT THE REGULAR SPRING BREAK BECAUSE WE WOULD NOT HAVE THE CHANCE TO TALK THIS LONG. I WOULD HAVE TO MOVE YOU ALONG

“I’m glad we’re talking—I was here last year in March and things have changed. I mean, well, more face masks. Folks seem to be enjoying themselves out here.”

YES THEY ARE AND YOU SHOULD ENJOY THAT LEMON DROP. LISTEN IF YOU DID NOT GO LAST TIME YOU SHOULD GO TO FORT SUMTER ON THE FERRY. YOU WILL LEARN A  LOT AND THE RIDE IS OKAY——BUT YOU CAN ONLY DRINK ALCOHOL ON THE WAY BACK NOT THE WAY THERE. MAYBE YOU CAN HIDE A LEMON DROP IN YOUR BAG.

“I think I’ll be okay—you know, I’m sorry—what’s your name?”

MY NAME IS DENNIS THE MENACE

“Okay Dennis, I’m Max. What should I do while I’m back? Fort Sumter is on the list, I’m thinking a couple of house tours——“

OH NO NO NO THOSE HOUSE TOURS ARE JUST ALL APPS NOW. WHO WANTS TO GO INSIDE AN OLD HOUSE AND LOOK AT YOUR PHONE? THAT IS NOT AN EXPERIENCE THAT IS JUST BEING ON YOUR PHONE. YOU NEED TO STAY OUTSIDE

“Dennis, where can I do that?”

“WELL PEOPLE LIKE RAINBOW ROW BUT I WILL TELL YOU IT LOOKS BETTER IN PICTURES ON INSTAGRAM. DEFINITELY WALK BY AND THEN JUST WALK UP AND DOWN BROAD AND WATCH THE PEOPLE. I WOULD SAY YOU SHOULD ALSO TAKE THE FERRY TO PATRIOTS POINT. I GUESS YOU COULD SEE THE USS YORKTOWN BUT EVEN IF YOU DON’T IT IS A GOOD PLACE TO BE OUTSIDE

“That sounds great. What about a place for a drink?”

DEFINITELY GO TO BURNS ALLEY. IT IS JUST AROUND THE CORNER THERE AND MY BUDDY RECORDS A PODCAST ON SUNDAYS. IT IS A THERAPY PODCAST BUT IT IS BETTER THAN ANY THERAPY I KNOW OF (Pauses to acknowledge friend walking across the other side of King Street) YEAH IT IS CALLED CHEAPER THAN THERAPY AND IT IS CHEAPER THAN THERAPY. BURNS IS GREAT AND THEY HAVE OTHER BELLS AND WHISTLES BESIDES JUST COLD BEER THEY HAVE GOOD CONVERSATION AND LOUD MUSIC——PUNK BANDS PLAY THERE BUT I CANNOT REMEMBER WHICH NIGHT OR MAYBE IT IS MORE THAN ONE NIGHT. WE HAVE A LINE FORMING BEHIND YOU SO HOW ABOUT THAT LEMON DROP?

Yes, I’d like that Lemon Drop and THANK YOU DENNIS.

[eisforeidolon]

Episode: Atomic Monsters

I watched this at least a week ago, but just didn't get around to rewriting my notes into a post 'til now.  I did actually find this the best episode so far, but lets be real, that's such a low bar to clear at this point it says basically nothing.

The opening sequence is really fun!  I found the whole thing genuinely enjoyable, both the action itself and that it included exactly the kind of return cameo I can actually get behind.  No retcons or resurrections that make death somehow even cheaper or ruin the original finish to the character's story!  Not even to mention that, instead of existing just for the sheer fanservice of it?  A sequence like this is actively improved by giving us a familiar face we have investment in to keep it from being all just random unfamiliar cannon fodder getting offed.

Unfortunately, this isn't the rousing endorsement it could be when we know that both expanding to a big action sequence and bringing Benny back for it were actually Jensen's ideas.  Not even to mention that the thing which really works best in the episode?  It's the dream sequence that's not actually connected to anything else and doesn't have to worry about continuity to work. This is my surprised face.

I enjoyed the exchange between Sam and Dean in the kitchen.  The meat man conversation over the bacon was rather silly, but in a fun way. I've seen some people reading things into it (it's insulting Dean doesn't know the slang, Sam is randomly vegetarian now) that I didn't really see there.  I did appreciate how Sam was weirdly jumpy and had trouble meeting Dean's eyes after the creepy alternate world dream.  I thought it worked really well for both slice-of-life and Sam’s reaction.

In terms of the Winchester's case, well, for the most part it could have been worse.  I don't honestly believe even if I hadn't been spoiled that I wouldn't have immediately suspected the parents from their introductory exchange about how Billy playing in the big game was more important than a cheerleader's death.  I think it was supposed to be a retroactive subtle clue, but it was more of a clue-by-four.  So the “mystery” of tracking down the monster was pretty lost on me.  I did like that the one girl having braces was a clue!  But I also thought the scene with her rehearsing her speech on a live mic in an empty auditorium was weird and contrived.  I straight out cannot forgive that a girl was literally abducted from the school campus and NOBODY checked the security footage near her car fucking IMMEDIATELY well before Sam & Dean.  C'mon.  Then, of course, a couple random middle-aged suburbanite humans get the drop on Sam and Dean, because Dabbernatural really just loves to make them incompetent so plots happen.

Then the big reveal and blah blah blah, kid accidentally ate his girlfriend.  WHAT WERE WE SUPPOSED TO DO???  Um, maybe try not being scumbags?  Idiotic scumbags at that, abducting a second girl from their son's own school instead of somebody that wouldn't be missed or even, hey, maybe encouraging him to try harder not to eat people.  Don't try to sell me on this pseudo hallmark 'but they just love him so much' bullshit.  At least the kid has more self-awareness and conscience than his fuckwad parents.  

Then we get to the infuriating character assassination part of the programme.  Having Sam and Dean say that they'd do the same thing as the dad for Jack their “son”?  Fuck you very much, show.  I could maybe, maybe, see Sam or Dean kidnapping and draining the life out of an innocent to save the other at their most desperate worst.  Though I think the only time they even really get close to that kind of an actively, knowingly evil choice is with Doc Benton.  Not only do I not buy for a second that they would do that for the totally-really-their-actual-child-for-reasons albatross Dabbernatural has shoehorned into their lives?  Struggling to do the right thing even when it hurts used to actually mean something – it was always a very important qualifier that while Sam or Dean might make that choice, the other would not let them.  So having them both agree this kind of straight up villainy would be a-okay for oh-so-totally-loveable-no-really-woobie-blob Jack ...

Like carelessly assassinating every human in the BMoL headquarters, it fundamentally fails to understand what it is that keeps Sam and Dean from being the monsters.  Hint: it's not just that the show centers around them.  “We do the ugly thing so that people can live happy” - these moronic hacks seem to be actually trying to parallel Sam and Dean saving innocent victims and the world to human monsters that were going to selfishly help their son eat his way through the entire goddamn cheerleading squad.  Am I getting this wrong somehow?  Is there some other, less appalling, reading here that I'm missing? This whole scene honestly made me nauseous.

They talkity-talk on for a while longer, but it's really not much better.  Sam declaring that God was totally done with them was the writers putting those words in his mouth based on nothing.  At it’s very best, it was Sam’s bad habit of convincing himself conclusions he’s come to are true because he wants them to be.  So them both just deciding to believe it's true after Chuck has admitted to orchestrating their entire lives … I'm not sure if we should conclude the Winchesters have brain damage or if that's just the writers.  Especially when the underlying reason for it is nothing more compelling than , “Watch the Winchesters see-saw on the angst fulcrum completely at random!  Yay!”  If this was actually well written, there would be some precipitating reason for Sam to suddenly be the one being all fatalistic while Dean is accepting.  Instead, the writers  just slap some coin-flipped angst angst angst on the page and meander on in a supposedly forward direction.

So then there's the other half of the episode, the Becky storyline. Am I the only one a little disturbed that Becky's first reaction to seeing Chuck was to look scared and try to run away?  Like, they're exes and all, sure, but she doesn't know any of the god stuff yet – I think the only thing she even says about their breakup is that Chuck dumped her.  Is that reaction supposed to be yet another bit of “new canon” showing how Chuck was just that terrible all along? But then she does let him in, so maybe we're just supposed to take it as Becky still having a tendency towards dramatics?  I honestly don't know, but it was weird to me.  

I do genuinely love that they had Becky go to therapy and realize just how absolutely fucked up what she'd done was and ultimately sort herself out to become someone who seems to be a well-balanced adult. A well balanced adult that didn't have to give up being a fan for that!  Seriously, kudos to the writers for this, because 7.08 is such a loathsome episode that otherwise ruins Becky as a character.   Though I do have to nitpick a bit – while I get that they wanted to put SPN merch in Becky's home as a callout to her still being a superfan?   In the show's universe, Chuck's books were never that popular, so I'm having some suspension of disbelief issues that there would be Funkos for them.  We could pretend they were customs, but she's got at least one Impala, so even that doesn't quite work.  I'm not entirely sure who “people only want them sitting around doing laundry anyway” is a dig at, but I'm giving it the side eye.  

I also am not entirely sure what to make of Chuck's whole no one needs me I kinda hate me I'm all lost and don't know what to doooooo shtick.  Is this a game he's playing?  Is he really that wishy-washy? Did some of Dabb's sad internal monologue as showrunner somehow end up in a script by accident?  

He goes on like that and laments he's lost the Winchester's trust and had words with them or whatever, and then he zaps Becky and her family away at the end.  Like, if he cared enough about Becky to care about her opinion, why does he turn on her, too, just like that?  I guess we're supposed to see it as him having found his mojo in her space and vanishing her because taking over her space that's working for him currently is his latest whim.  I suppose they're intending to show Chuck as just being that capricious and flighty, but I don't know that it works for me.  The way they've been writing him he's acting so randomly and impulsively that it's kind of unbelievable he can even sit still at a keyboard long enough to write another Sam and Dean installment.  Again, I definitely find it unbelievable that the Chuck they're giving us now would be capable of playing the long game that he would have had to for him to be actively behind everything.  Until he suddenly got impatient and lazy and popped up in the cemetery at the end of the last finale ... for reasons … and is now just … like that … because.

Not to mention that his powers are, big shock, just as arbitrary as everyone else's in the current show.  He can't actually see what is happening to Sam and Dean because of the bullet sapping his power or whatever, but we're supposed to be worried about the ominous ending he's writing for them because … he's got those god powers to make it happen, I guess?  Uh...

I will grant that the ominous bobbing of Sam and Dean Funkos' heads to Chuck's furious typing was a wonderfully foreboding shot to end on.  

#negativity for ts #long post #anti dabb #anti jack kline #writer incompetence #spn season 15 #spn 15x04

[comecesario]

Hey guys! School’s starting again, and I figured I’d make a masterpost of resources for studying and general school life. 

stationery:

I’m a huge fan of buying new stationery for the new school year – there’s something about opening a new set of pens and notebooks that just makes me feel ready to start the year! Here’s some of my favourite brands/shops:

Paperchase: I love Paperchase! Their folders and notebooks are so cute! I don’t use planners (I’m more fond of using my own bullet journal), but if you’re a fan of them they have gorgeous planners as well. You’ll find physical stores all over England (and other countries, I’m sure), but their online shop is also here.

WH. Smith’s: I’m pretty sure this is just an English shop (sorry!), but their pencil cases and folders were too cute for me not to mention them! They’ve also got gorgeous lunch boxes and water bottles for a really decent price.

 Tokyo Pen Shop: this shop is exclusively online (and you can find it here). They sell mostly Japanese stationery, and all their stuff is super cute!

Aliexpress: so this website doesn’t just sell stationery, but if you’re after extremely cheap stickers and washi tape, you couldn’t find a better place! Their stuff takes a while to arrive (and it’s best to read reviews before you buy anything!), but honestly I can’t fault it! I’ve loved everything I’ve bought from there, and it’s all been super cheap. 

Kikki.k: This is a Swedish stationery brand that I just find so charming! They’ve got a really clean, crisp aesthetic that I really appreciate, and their stuff is always so pretty. They’ve got stores all over, but you can also shop online here.

school bags:

I’m super picky with my backpacks – they’ve got to have a laptop sleeve, be big enough to hold my music scores, laptop, and everything else, and be nice to look at. I’ve looked at quite a few, but here are some of my favourite brands:

Herschel: their bags are definitely on the pricier side, ranging from £40-£80, but they’re worth every penny imo. They’re sturdy, with padding on the back and shoulder straps, they’re roomy, with a padded laptop sleeve, and they’re super well built, so they’ll last a while. They’re also cute, which doesn’t hurt. 

Kanken: these are around the same price as a Herschel, and in my opinion they’re just as good. I took mine with me when I went interrailing, and it held up! They’re not padded, so I’d keep that in mind if you’re planning on taking a laptop into school with you. They are, however, super colourful, and definitely very sturdy!

UGRACE backpack: this isn’t a brand so much as a specific backpack I found on Amazon, but I had to mention it because it has a portable charge built in! As someone who’s always forgetting her stuff, I know I’d love something like this! It’s also a little cheaper than the previous options. 

Himawari backpack: like the previous point, this backpack is a little cheaper, and a super cute alternative to the Kanken if you’re on a budget.

study spaces:

If you’re like me, you’re not a huge fan of studying at home. I love using libraries, museums and cafes to study in, ‘cause it gets me out of the house, and often makes me feel a little better if I’m in a bad mood. Here are some of my favourites (all London based, sorry!):

Maughan Library: I’m headed to King’s in September, so I doubt anyone’s surprised this is on my list! If you’re not a King’s student, you can apply for a visitor’s pass when you enter, which I’m pretty sure is free. This library is gorgeous, and a lovely place to do some research or write your essay. There’s free Wifi, and plug sockets as well.

The British Library: You need a membership to access this library, but it’s free, and you’ll then have access to a huge selection of books and texts. 

The V&A Art Library: Again, you’ll need a membership, but this one’s also free! As someone who adores the V&A, I feel a little biased putting this one here, but it really is one of the prettiest places to work I’ve ever seen! When you’re finished working, reward yourself with a trip through the museums, or a walk through South Kensington.

The Barbican Centre Library: For a music student, this one’s heaven! It’s got a huge CD collection that’s free to browse, and it’s also spacious and right in the centre of London. I can’t say the building’s the prettiest I’ve seen, but it gets the job done.

The BFI Reuben Library: For film and media students, this is the best place to work. You’ve got a huge collection of films and books free to browse, plus you can reward yourself with a film after you’ve finished studying! (under 25s get £3 tickets!)

Timberyard coffee house: This one’s close to Covent Garden, and serves pretty good coffee in a really cozy setting. 

Yumchaa: With big tables and a late closing time, this one’s probably best for revising with friends, or those late cramming sessions close to finals (don’t worry, we’ve all done it!). It’s pretty close to Tottenham Court Road, so you’ve got plenty of places to go to if you need some retail therapy after your study session!

The Espresso Bar in Paperchase: This one’s perfect if you run out of pens! Like Yumchaa, it’s got large tables, and it’s got huge windows with lots of light. 

Gail’s: This one’s a little pricier, but the atmosphere is so cozy and lovely that I can’t fault it whatsoever! The sofas are soft as anything, and the coffee really is great. 

Picturehouse central: This one requires a yearly £30 membership, but you get some serious perks (£3 off cinema tickets, free access to their reading room, 20% off food and drink, etc.). The room is cozy and warm, and of course it’s on top of a cinema, so you can reward yourself with a film after you’ve finished your essay!

study playlists: 

I can’t work without something playing! If it isn’t the music I’m currently trying to learn, it’s one of these playlists:

lofi study

vaporwave study club

ghibli study no.1

ghibli study no. 2

pop study

study lofi

lofi hip-hop beats

apps: 

I’m on my phone all the time. So I try and make at least a little of that time productive. Here’s what I use:

duolingo: I love this app. I’m currently learning Russian, French, German and Italian using it, and it’s super helpful! The app is easy to use, and free!

headspace: I feel like it’s no secret that I struggle with my mental health. One of the apps that has helped the most with this is headspace. It’s a mindfulness app that has anywhere from 3-60 minute guided meditations that you can follow along to. It’s also got sleepcasts, which are visualisation exercises for sleep, and plenty other wonderful things. I can’t recommend it enough, honestly. 

I would list more things, but this list is long enough already! I might make a part two if there’s anything I feel I missed, though. I hope you guys have a lovely school year! 

#studyblr #studyspo #studygram #study tips #study guide #studyblr masterpost #studyblr motivation

[comicteaparty]

May 2nd-May 8th, 2020 Creator Babble Archive

The archive for the Creator Babble chat that occurred from May 2nd, 2020 to May 8th, 2020.  The chat focused on the following question:

What are some of the weirdest things you've Googled while researching for your story?

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

For Whispers of the Past, the weirdest thing I googled was probably: "puncture wounds versus lacerations" and "chance of survival after getting stabbed." Pretty sure I also looked up: "treatment for arsenic poisoning," "lethal dose of arsenic," "arsenic in nature," "broken ribs symptoms and treatments," "pneumothorax," "can a horse kill someone by trampling them?" and "how far can you fall without dying?" Basically, just a bunch of medical questions. For another story, I think the weirdest thing I looked up was, "can you take antidepressants and sleeping pills together?" More medical questions

carcarchu

@ cronaj's answer "i swear i'm an author not a serial killer"

Eilidh (Lady Changeling)

Hmmm.

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

I think for me was searching up symptoms of PTSD, eating disorders, and also victims of cheating

Eilidh (Lady Changeling)

Probably that time trying to research poisonous substances available in Victorian and earlier households with potentially fatal results if ingested but not immediate, and their symptoms/treatments

The answer, incidentally, is that most of them aren't treatable if you've had a high enough dose to get symptoms.

And non-lethal doses tend to have unpleasant long term effects

Deo101 [Millennium]

I don't remember all the crazy stuff I've looked up. What's popping into my head at the moment, though, is I did almost a month of research into time travel paradoxes for a plot that I ended up not using! So that's fun

Eilidh (Lady Changeling)

Also that Victorians kept arsenic (a white powder) in the same place as sugar (a white powder) in often unmarked containers since literacy was low and labels only work if you can read them

There was far more accidental poisonings from putting arsenic in your tea than I can count

carcarchu

what about having a picture of a skull and cross bones on the arsenic tin

Eilidh (Lady Changeling)

I think it was arsenic. Maybe cynanide...

Ahaha

You'd think so wouldn't you?

That's not even going into the whole thing about green dyes for clothing being made from arsenic as well I think and being uh

Literally fatal to wear?

Well done, Victorians.

Let me grab y'all a source for that one

https://youtu.be/K2McemVuG28

Here you go!

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

Oh my god what the

Them victorians are so morbid

Did you know that they have a garden of poison

Eilidh (Lady Changeling)

Welcome to writing historical!

Yes I did

I wanna go

But yeah go back a century or two

Literally everything seems to be poisonous

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

Arsenic, radium......damn they don’t follow WHMIS

carcarchu

wasn't even that long ago when they were putting mercury in everything

Eilidh (Lady Changeling)

Including NORMAL FOOD

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

And toys

Kids were playing with them

Eilidh (Lady Changeling)

Oh the Bradford Sweets Poisoning was a whole thing!

Hang on

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/1858_Bradford_sweets_poisoning

This one is uh

Definitely worse

carcarchu

bruh

Eilidh (Lady Changeling)

Yeah

There's so much of this...

It's amazing humanity made it this far

So yeah that's what I've googled

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

Would that...even fly here nowadays

Eilidh (Lady Changeling)

What the arsenic

Nooope

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

Hooooo god that is mildly terrifying

Like I make sweets for a living

I don’t even want to think how I’ll feel if I accidentally poisoned 200 people

Eilidh (Lady Changeling)

It did lead to modern food hygiene laws and much better regulations on chemists being responsible for their supplies

But yep

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

I remember someone telling me “Behind every rule/regulation was someone who got hurt or died”

Eilidh (Lady Changeling)

Yeahhhh

Sometimes also where there aren't rules because hahaha some companies are shit

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

Yeah it’s sucks and it’s even worse because you KNOW they’re just pushing the limits

Eilidh (Lady Changeling)

Capitalism has always been like that, it's just people can see it a bit more now

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

Yeah, the age of information has really exposed the nasty side of things huh Hmmm I think I’ve studied something really different for my webcomic. I was looking into the justice system and how it treated minors

And I had to look up burn victims/homicides soooooooooooo

Eilidh (Lady Changeling)

Whoops sorry for the ping, I thought you said mirrors not minors and was gonna ask

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

Oh god that would be....completely different

Eilidh (Lady Changeling)

I'm writing about vampires, mirrors are more common (concept and word)..

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

Yes! I think it’s because back in the day silver was used in mirrors and that’s why you can’t see a vampire’s reflection

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

weirdest thing I searched so far is about er the male modeling industry and how they have to slap cheeks and junks to get the body to fill in clothing

and I wondered "do I need to do a deep dive in this or"

Nutty (Court of Roses)

I tried to look up what damaged vocal cords looked like, so i could show it when Count Bailey got poisoned, but I mostly got body camera shots inside a person's throat, so I had to largely wing it by darkening the veins in his neck lol Other than that, I have to look up Irish slang a lot, as Merlow slips into it more when he gets drunk.

Eilidh (Lady Changeling)

I have a twittee thread somewhere about mirrors and vampires

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

Okay tuyetnhi I’m a bit more...disturbed yet intrigued by that idea. Nutty yes I noticed that! I liked that small detail actually And Eilidh, i would love to see that twitter thread

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

Yeah, I ended up making a deep dive and ho boi

it's darker than I expected LOL

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

I tried to look up people getting crushed by cars or falling objects but the videos were very blurry and made me dizzy so I just went fuck it my comic's not realistic anyways I'm winging it

FeatherNotes(Krispy)

Probably an extensive search for all things occult? Its such a wide topic so it was daunting to sift through everything, but also really cool to see so many different cultures have been influenced by such things! Ive read some excerpts about the sixth sense and human capabilities too, very interesting!

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

@Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!) That is the most splendidly weird research I have heard of

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

I was trying to research for one of my characters and i'm just

the things they do

I scream everyday

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

lol tuyetnhi got me to look it up but all I can find is stuff about sexual assault

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

that's what I mean

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

OH

:(

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

Whoa okay

That’s really dark

Like I had to look up abuse relations

DanitheCarutor

Oh geez, I've looked up a lot of stuff. Recently I Googled public bathrooms and backs of toilets because I'm too lazy to get up and look at my own toilet. SAECKs/SAKs, the price with and without insurance, how it works and if men can use them. (Which was kinda sad that I didn't know they could although the resource was surprisingly hard to find, all except one link I found were about women using them.) I've looked up medical stuff like the different stages of certain cancers, their symptoms, treatments and other things involves like their effect on the person's mental health, if things like physical therapy is needed and the effects of the treatment along with the types of treatment needed. Also the cost with and without insurance, as well as cancer treatment facilities for people with low income. Various mental illnesses/disorders, the different types treatment, the effects of the treatment, as well as cost and facilities that offer free/cheaper treatment for people with low income. Lactose intolerance, celiac disease, gaslighting, trauma brought on by abuse. Things like the mental effects of children taking on adult responsibilities early on, growing up with lack of stability and human trafficking. Types of physical abuse that doesn't leave obvious bruising/scarring, psychological abuse (outside of gaslighting). Court stuff, like legal charges for attempted murder, court procedures. Caregiver programs for family members caring for someone with a severe mental illness. What actions are taken when someone files a charge for being drugged against their consent and the steps that need to be taken if your ID and credit cards/debit cards have been stolen, as well as what the police need do in those situations. Gosh, I can go on and on, just go on forever about all the things I've researched.

Most of it is medical and mental health related.

I feel this is fitting for some of the subjects we've Googled.

DanitheCarutor

Wow, I didn't realize how much I looked at the cost of stuff. Like a good chunk of my research has been dedicated to what different insurances cover, how much, the base price without insurance and payment plans for people in the latter category. I guess the upside is I'll have some knowledge on the different insurance companies if I ever get to a point where I can get it, as well as payment plan options if I'm ever hospitalized.

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

Googling images of cadaver hands for reference was... not a pleasant experience

mariah (rainy day dreams)

Most recently I was looking for heart dissections. I had to take a break cuz I was making myself feel sick X')

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

Searching up burn victims was not fun either

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

also this has made me realize that artists can be a very morbid bunch

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

yeah like dang ya'll lmao

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

I know someone who had to look up (a bit gory) "can you strangle/hang someone with your intestines"

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Chances are the audience is not gonna know either so

dunno how much accuracy matters in this situation :p(edited)

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

I mean....unfortunately I know what it's like to see a drowned corpse So if it's accurate....I would...strangely appreciate it more?

Like you never know your audience

DanitheCarutor

When I was first starting to dabble in comics I was attempting this dark fantasy/mythology-ish story that would have some gore. I looked up stuff like "skull being crushed", "what does 'x' limb look like when being ripped off", "what does a corpse look like after sitting for 'x' many days". Most of my searched led me to the Best Gore site, which is totally recommended if you need references for your gory horror comic, but is NOT a site for the faint of heart. You will most likely get sick from the content... and the comment section.

Oddly enough, when I used to do the occasional stand alone gore-ish illustration I'd get 1-2 comments with people being grateful for the accuracy. It's... interesting that they would know what would and wouldn't be accurate with stuff like that.

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

Oh, I looked up burn victims before.... Yeah, I've looked up a lot of weird stuff.

chalcara [Nyx+Nyssa]

I had to look up fresh and healed burnscar myself for a comic, a character survivived a housefire.

Most of the time I am googling history actually - and mostly tech-levels of a given time and what was contemporary with what - guns and knights for example co-existed for quite a few decades, that kind of stuff.

Deo101 [Millennium]

Y'know I'm thinking about it more, and I'm realizing why I can't recall the weird stuff I've looked up. I usually ask people for information! I know a lot of different kinds of people who are more than happy to talk about their experiences, so I can ask them for first hand experience with a lot of situations where I then don't really need to look up much other than to maybe fill some holes I have. It's a different kind of research

Cap’n Lee (Flowerlark Studios)

Huh, the weirdest thing I’ve googled? Well, there’s the ever-uncomfortable ‘Googling certain body types for reference but probably looking like a creep to anyone who looks at my search history’. I’ve also googled very oddly specific things like ‘What is a 5-cube called?’ (It’s a pentaract). I’ve also watched videos that demonstrate how a bump key works, and to my FBI agent, I swear it was only for my comic. My search history gets pretty eclectic. I look up a lot of religious lore, and do lot of research into medieval times - mostly about the daily life of the average peasant. Also things like quantum physics, customs in other countries, and animal facts.

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

Just realizing that I once researched "medieval brewing." That was an interesting train of information.

Erin Ptah (BICP | Leif & Thorn)

For a lot of gruesome or dangerous scenes, I try to aim the search toward movies and TV screencaps. Like, if you need to draw a crashing car, find a series with a dramatic car chase where they slammed a stunt car into a wall in high-def slow-mo.

kayotics

I think the weirdest thing I looked up was trying to figure out the answer to the question “is the gas released by decomposing bodies flammable? And if so how much gas do you need?”

eli [a winged tale]

now I’m curious what’s the answer

kayotics

The answer ended up being that if there was enough gas being created it was probably not enough to be flammable: aka it would not light up the room.

I ended up asking a friend who knows more about decomposition to figure out the answer, but I just wanted to make sure if a character brought a torch into a musty murder basement, it wouldn’t light them up like a Christmas tree

Mostly: it gets smelly and stale

eli [a winged tale]

Good to know!

Joichi [Hybrid Dolls]

Hmm I think the wierd thing I looked up was whether Smile Therapy was a real practice? There are Photos too and I have a feeling it was real. Another thing I look up was; How would a real lady pirate dress in historical times? I did alot of extra research for some little visual hints.(edited)

I feel like Mob psycho nailed the creepiness of Smile Therapy because they were patients forced to pretend to smile, that's what I envision each time. That ep stayed with me(edited)

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

oh my god

Miranda

What is that picture from?? it's creepy haha(edited)

snuffysam (Super Galaxy Knights)

mob psycho 100

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

smile therapy is terrifying. Imagine getting punished if you didn't smile

in the end you'll be smiling as a conditioned reaction to fear, not because it's genuine

Joichi [Hybrid Dolls]

Yes exactly, the original one was hard to record so the Google was ambiguous about its existence but there's photo proof that it was a thing

#ctparchive #comics #webcomics #indie comics #comic chat #comic discussion #comic tea party #ctp #creator interview #comic creator interview #creator babble

[madscientistjournal]

Fiction: Retirement Options

An excerpt from the journals of former Intergalactic Police (IGP) Agent Irene Magnus, as provided by Sam Crane Art by Luke Spooner

“Cheers!”

I clinked my round tumbler against the whiskey bottle with a little plink! and knocked back a third of what was in my glass. “Leave the bottle” had been the smartest thing I’d said all day–much better than all the pointless speeches and the hollow “thank you, it’s been an honor” or “yes, I’m looking forward to some peace and quiet.”

All lies.

Today was the worst day of my life.

Give me something to fight, give me a case to solve. Even if I lost, at least I would’ve fought. And maybe–just maybe–I could have even fought the medical reports. Even the bad injuries sometimes improved with rest and physical therapy, and Lord knows I would’ve tried. But I would’ve needed time for that, and the Intergalactic Police wasn’t giving me any.

I had barely been out of the medical center’s ICU for a day when one of my handlers had come to have a “discussion.” The IGP’s oversight committee had deemed me unfit for further active duty. Of course, I appealed immediately, anything to buy some time. Instead the committee promptly came back with “no,” told me my last day was in an Earth month, and that was that. Almost forty years of service, and I didn’t even get to leave on my own terms.

I flopped boneless against the backrest of the chair, my eyes wandering up and up. The bar, Prisms, billed itself as a “traditional human old English tavern,” clearly trying to target homesick humans or possibly other species seeking a little taste of Earth. However, it looked less like a tavern and more like the bastard child of Westminster Abbey and some East End dive bar.

The walls were stone and the ceiling was a huge vaulted Gothic mess. Everything was in black and shades of grey except for strands upon strands of colored glass, like pieces of shattered stained-glass windows, that had been hung in crisscrossing lines all throughout the wide room. The colors danced and swam in the dim recessed lighting, and I couldn’t stop myself from wincing as the brighter shards caught the light and glared down at me.

Dizzy from looking at them too intently, I let my head thunk against the tabletop, which was nice and cool. Its smooth top was smartly polished and shone like mahogany, but it was probably just Cattameeran eeli wood instead. Cheaper and local. The planet of Cattameer was the center of government for the Milky Way Galaxy, and here in Capitol City, there was virtually anything you could ask for–including knock-off human bars with crap whiskey and washed up Intergalactic Police agents to drink it.

Distractedly, I trailed a gloved finger along the table’s surface, the fine protective mesh of my synthetic-steel gloves tracing the wood’s grain. The gloves weren’t IGP standard issue. I’d bought them with my own money, so they were mine, and I got to keep them. Unlike my blaster and my badge.

No. No more bad thoughts. Good thoughts only now. I was blowing a lot of money on this middling whiskey, so at the very least, I was going to be happy about drinking it. A lot of the non-human races loved human alcohol. Champagnes and ciders were particularly lucrative exports for Earth and Mars both; anything fizzy and carbonated was generally a hit. Human hard liquors never really caught on though. You could find the basics sometimes, especially if you went to a bar that catered to a more human clientele, but no one exported the top shelf stuff–it just wasn’t worth it. God, I would kill for good bourbon.

Ugh, it was too hot in here, and I still had my grey dress suit on from the retirement party. The tabletop was cool but not enough. Fumbling awkwardly, I loosened my tie and popped a few buttons. Better. Time for more whiskey though.

I tugged myself back upright by sheer force of will, and it took me an embarrassingly long second to realize that the chair opposite me was no longer empty. Instead, a small alien sat there, looking like an eerie cross between a human and a crow. The bar’s lighting was very flattering to her though–glossy black feathers almost seemed to glow, while streaks of iridescent feathers shimmered in a myriad of colors. Like an oil slick but prettier. She wore a brown utility belt with a number of pouches on it and a nasty looking ray gun holstered at each hip.

“Who–?” I started to say before I caught myself. I already knew her. It was Ambassador Scholar Trishell, a scientist and diplomat from Pluto. Belatedly, I realized I should probably be concerned about her abrupt, well-armed appearance. She was surprisingly dangerous for being a three-foot-tall bird creature.

Belatedly, I realized I should probably be concerned about her abrupt, well-armed appearance. She was surprisingly dangerous for being a three-foot-tall bird creature.

To read the rest of this story, check out the Mad Scientist Journal: Spring 2019 collection.

Irene Magnus served as an IGP agent for almost four decades, earning a Silver Comet of Bravery and several merit awards for crucial intelligence gathering. She is also an exemplary blaster shot and has won numerous shooting competitions. When her promising IGP career appeared to be cut short, Irene unexpectedly went on to become the first former-IGP agent to be hired by the University of Pluto. Her contract with Ambassador Scholar Trishell is currently in its fourth renewal.

Sam Crane enjoys writing science fiction and dark fantasy stories. A History major and an IT professional, she draws considerable influence from both history and technology, as well as from New England, where she lives with two very mischievous black cats. You can find her online at sam-crane-writes.blogspot.com

Luke Spooner, a.k.a. ‘Carrion House,’ currently lives and works in the South of England. Having recently graduated from the University of Portsmouth with a first class degree, he is now a full time illustrator for just about any project that piques his interest. Despite regular forays into children’s books and fairy tales, his true love lies in anything macabre, melancholy, or dark in nature and essence. He believes that the job of putting someone else’s words into a visual form, to accompany and support their text, is a massive responsibility, as well as being something he truly treasures. You can visit his web site at www.carrionhouse.com.

“Retirement Options” is © 2019 Sam Crane Art accompanying story is © 2019 Luke Spooner

Fiction: Retirement Options was originally published on Mad Scientist Journal

#Irene Magnus #Luke Spooner #Sam Crane #Science Fiction #Space Travel

[greener-living]

I’ve always been excited about turning thirty. it’s a time where you have an idea of who you are as a person and what you want. I’ve spent a lot of time self reflecting and these are just some of my thoughts that have been going through my mind lately.

holy moly the last twelve months have been challenging. from my dad being really sick, to two friends passing away, to my 7 year relationship ending, and having to find a new place to call home.

this is not where I thought I’d be. thinking back on a year ago this is not what I pictured at all but it gives me comfort thinking that in a year’s time I will look back and think of how I made it through.

having this self awareness is a funny thing. you know that you need to feel whatever emotions you’re going through but you also know that it isn’t permanent.

some advice I got was to allow yourself to be sad but define a point from which you want to start looking forward, being selfish and focus on shaping your future (thanks jesper).

but don’t be too hard on yourself. each day the sun will rise and you can begin again. take little achievable steps and over time you will keep moving forward. one of my first goals was to just eat breakfast every day. it sounds silly but it was something that was hard for me but I needed to do and if I did it it was a step forward in the right direction.

I am so loved. ridiculously. the number of people who are there for me is in abundance and they want to be there. don’t feel like you’re a burden if people are reaching out to you and offering their support. you need people to help lift you back up and they will hold you in loving arms.

it’s amazing how I have bonded with so many people that I haven’t even met. I have received so many meaningful and loving messages over the last year. there are negatives to social media but so many positives like connection and awareness.

we are not invincible. my dad is doing better but every time he went into surgery it was so hard to comprehend that he may not come back out and I would not have that unconditional love anymore that your parents give.

it’s so interesting to find out more about your parents when they were younger and what shaped them to be the people that they are. it helps you understand the reasons in which they raised you the way that they did. I became a lot closer to my mum when we had an open discussion until 4 o’clock one morning and our relationship has been the best it has ever been.

I also had this realisation of why I always felt so much closer to my dad rather than my mum. I was asked what is something that you clearly remember embarrassing you as a kid and mine was that I didn’t know the words penis and vagina and only knew them in filipino. the kids made fun of me and when I went home to my mum she told me that I was right but my dad had to tell me that the kids were right too. mum would tell untrue things about sexuality and I realise now that it’s a cultural thing that she was doing out of love and protection for my innocence but it meant that I would always go to my dad so I have always opened up to my dad more than my mum.

as you get older you realise that your parents are just normal human beings whose ideas or beliefs you may not agree with anymore and that’s okay.

my parents and my christianity led me to think that marriage should only be between a man and woman. but I remember so clearly maybe only like five years ago bursting into tears when I had the realisation that love is love. it was literally like a penny dropping.

even though I don’t go to church except for the occasional easter or christmas service now I wouldn’t be the person I am today without religion. it taught me kindness and compassion and I can’t describe the comfort and piece of home I feel when I hear certain gospels and hymns.

if in doubt do what you love and it will work out in some way. dance has allowed me to be where I am right now. I remember my dad asked me to choose between going to private school or dancing and I chose dancing. I ended up being school captain and got an OP 6. my parents also had it in their head that if I didn’t go to university straight away I would never go so I chose to do dance until I figured out a couple of years later to add business as a second degree. and dance is what led me to yoga. I went because I got an injury and thought it would be a good way to keep fit before going back to dance but then I fell in love with yoga and now it’s my life. so even though you may not be sure at the time, do what you love and it will come together in some form or another.

going on from that point if I have children I won’t force them to go straight into university if they don’t want to. I think it’s hard for a lot of us to know what we want to do at 16. most people I’ve spoken to they didn’t know and lots of people changed their degrees or career paths. so if you want to take a gap year, work in a cafe and have fun then do it. you’ll find your way.

if you want to do your yoga teacher training I would recommend doing it in india. it’s such a wonderful experience to take a whole month for yourself. it’s easier to stick to the lifestyle and shut off from everything else. the cost of doing it in india works out the same if not even cheaper than doing it in the west.

be authentically you. people dig it and can tell if you’re not being genuine. in my yoga classes I make my little jokes and laugh at myself and people love that.

but some people don’t and that’s okay. I remember one time I was covering a class at a health club in london and had three people walk out. it was so hard not to be offended but then five people came up afterwards and said how much they loved it.

not everyone is going to like you and most of the time that’s someone reacting to you rather than what you’re doing specifically.

write a love letter to yourself for those times you feel uncertain to remind yourself of your amazingness. sometimes we can into this dark and twisty place that we are blinded and can’t see the light and joy that is there.

*trigger warning* it’s not okay to hurt yourself and if this is happening please go speak to someone. I couldn’t handle it when I found out the love of my life didn’t want me anymore. it started with digging my nails into my skin, then beating my legs with my fists to banging my head against walls. all I could keep thinking was a knife to my throat because I couldn’t handle the pain. so I booked in for therapy. don’t be afraid of therapy. mental health is so important. if you need to speak please call lifeline on 13 11 14.

I’m actually okay being by myself. it’s just the hurt of what happened that I am still dealing with but I know that it is the cliche of time that will heal.

I’m not one of those people who think oh my god I’m going to be a spinster and die alone. let’s be real, I’m a yoga instructor with cute freckles – I’ll find someone who will rock my world. however I don’t want to rush into dating because I had the rebound experience last time and it was very selfish. even though we explicitly didn’t say we would be exclusive I knew that it was more than we we were letting on and when I became serious with my ex boyfriend it was so hard to let this other person know. I’m not saying no to anything and will be open if someone comes, but I won’t be actively seeking something as I need to take this time for myself.

I’m struggling with forgiveness. do you need to forgive, when they haven’t asked? especially when you have already forgave them and did the same thing to you again when they promised they wouldn’t? it will most likely be something that I will need to do in some capacity for myself to move forward but for now I can’t.

I go through these thoughts that he has all these attractive qualities because of me. well traveled, more grounded and calm, vegetarian, practices yoga – things that our relationship shaped. but I’m more than positive he’s given me qualities too that I can’t think of specifically right now because I’m still too overwhelmed. I was discussing this with someone and they laughed because I’m still trying to see the best in this person.

there are some people who you can try and help all you can but there’s comes a point where they need to help themselves and if they can’t then you need to walk away. if someone is toxic it’s unfair that they receive that beautiful energy that you have and take you down. I don’t regret any of our time together. we had an amazing life so that’s the biggest shame that it ended the way it did because it’s not the ending we deserved.

travel gives me so much fulfilment. I’ve been to 46 countries so far and have had the most amazing experiences from boating with hippos in botswana, sea kayaking in albania, husky rides in finland, camel rides into the desert in morocco, exploring forts in oman, skiing in canada, volunteering in haiti, eating tacos in mexico, and camping around new zealand.

if you can live overseas at least once in your life go for it. I’m trying to decide right now whether I should pack up and leave again because now there’s nothing that holding me here.

I got a credit card so I could get all the frequent flyer points but it was a bad idea. I was always in debt so one day I just cut up my credit cards and it was the best decision of my life. also become financially independent. unfortunately even though I was very aware and over the years asked many times and was reassured that I would never have to worry about money I became financially dependent on my partner and then it ended.

finally, take time to be with yourself in some way. whether that be a journal, jotting down your dreams, going to your favourite class, listing the bands you’ve seen, taking 5 minutes to meditate or writing down your favourite memories as it pops up in your timeline. it’s a wonderful thing to remember what you’ve done or felt to help shape where you are going or where you want to be. it all starts with working on you and the rest will work itself out.

#ground bloom flourish #self reflection #self awareness #thirtieth birthday #self worth #self love #self acceptance #self journey #journalling

[okayyeahsurewhynotcool]

11 Questions

the rules: answer the questions given to you by the tagged, write 11 questions of your own and tag 11 people.

I was tagged by: @divinexgods​ tagging: anyone who wants to do it! I’m too lazy to tag people! Feel free to tag me again if you want to ask me more questions! 

divinexgods’ Questions:

What is your favorite word in the English language and why? ...Shit... Can I only pick one word?!? Ughhh this isn’t fair! Okay, if off the top of my head, my favorite word in the English language “defenestration”. I love that we needed a word to properly describe the act of throwing someone out of a window! Haha! 

One place you’re desperate to travel to? Paris, France. I WILL go! 

How do you cope when you’re sad or upset? Music first and foremost. Spotify is cheaper than therapy! I also like to impulse buy myself little things that make me happy. Maybe a cute purse or a new nail polish color... Something to make me smile. If that doesn’t work, I go to Disney. I live close-ish to Disney World so when I’m feeling super down and I have the time, I go to one of the parks and I make sure to hug at least three characters. That usually does the trick. Chewbacca and Goofy give THE BEST hugs. 

What’s the best compliment you ever received? I have been told by various people, friends and strangers and even some idols of mine, that I have a great voice. Not a singing voice (ew no) but just my regular voice. I think it’s the most flattering compliment to receive and it’s definitely something I enjoy hearing. I think it’s the one compliment I can actually receive properly. Any other compliment I don’t know how to take xD 

The person of your dreams (real life or celebrity) comes up to you, pledges their love and wants to whisk you away for a romantic month in the tropics. Who is it? ...Am I allowed only one? I don’t believe in only one. Off the top of my head... It would either be Claudio Sanchez (lead singer of Coheed and Cambria), Sam Witwer (Being Human US, Clone Wars, Star Wars Rebels, Smallville), Joel McHale, or Mila Kunis. 

Tell me your favorite joke? There are too many. I love really stupid jokes though. They don’t have to be puns, per se, but if they’re stupid I’ll probably laugh. Ohh!! I love it when kids try to make up their own jokes! They’re so bad and so hilarious. 

Your favorite muse you play right now and why? Even though I haven’t had the chance to use her a lot, I really like playing/the idea of Teal. She’s out of my comfort zone but I like getting in the headspace to play her. She’s feisty and moody and I think it’s nice to play someone like that.  A little bit back story on her: In an RP I was in for a bit, Teal was actually the girlfriend CPU character to my main muse. There were times where I liked playing her more than my actual muse. I liked writing  narrs that included her because I liked exploring that character. She was based off of another independent RP muse I had who was the difficult, bratty girlfriend to my sweet and loving male muse. I really liked the idea of her in general so when I joined the tumblr rpc, she was literally the first muse I put together. She has a lot of pieces and I really want to play her more. 

Books, music, or movies? Music. 

If you could pick anyone to play YOU in a movie about your life, who would you pick? Haha! Omg... The on-screen version of me would be so embarrassing! Uh... It’s really hard for me not pick Danny Devito. Honestly, I don’t even think having a real person would be the best way to portray me in a movie. It would have to be something animated and voiced by like Cree Summer or Michaela Dietz... Someone with a cute and raspy voice.

Do you live in a city, suburb, or rural area? Suburb... I think. 

Lastly, how many licks does it take to get to the tootsie roll center of a tootsie pop? One, a-two-hoo, a-three, *crunch*.

Bee’s Questions!

What are your top three favorite things to eat?

What show are you’re enjoying currently?

What is the first thing you notice about someone you’re attracted to?

Name one of your biggest pet-peeves!

Do you prefer cats, dogs, rodents, reptiles, fish or no pets?

What is your favorite flavor of ice cream?

If you could have a super power, what would it be? 

If you could play a character from a favorite book/movie/TV show/anime/etc. of yours, who would it be and why?

List five bands/musicians you’re really into right now!

Is there a famous person you don’t care for/hate/think is over-rated?

What is your favorite color to wear? 

#memes #survey thing #do it #fill it out #have fun #aboutmun #munmemes #memeanswers

[liagibasunandmoonflower]

So, some backstory is neccessary (imo) for some of the ideas in my album to really make sense. (TRIGGER WARNING- it gets dark, and is about mental health, so if you arent in a great place maybe dont read, but it's your call)

I am the youngest of 3 biological siblings, but a total of 6 siblings, but one of them no longer remains in contact with us. And the other is incarcerared. But, my sister's are pretty freaking awesome people.(btw My parents basically raised my mom's step sister's children, so i really consider them to be my siblings). My oldest brother (bio bro) was 11 years older than me, my eldest sister and first born of my parents is 13 years older than me, my second sister is a blessed middle child and is 7 years older than me, and my youngest brother is 5 years older than me. Needless to say i was the baby of the family and treated as such 😂

Moving on, my oldest brother was 17 when he enlisted in the Army. He needed my parents permission. They talked it was what he wanted to do and so he went. I was 6, and omg it was terrible. My mom has found old school journals of me writing about how much I miss my brother. I would have really bad nightmares as a kid (up until i was 11 i slept in my parents room on a little blanket bed on the floor because of how terrifying these nightmares were i didnt want to be alone at night). And i would cry at night. And i wouldn't really be sure why. But it would be so intense and i just could not stop.

And my family would surprise me, and other people in the family, when he was on leave. He would just walk in the door late at night and everybody would be crying and be so happy and excited. One time he came home and my parent kept me home from school for the morning, and i was like "okay im ready to go to school" and they were like "let's just wait a minute" and i was like "um weird but okay" and then some time later, i hear the basement door in our kitchen open and this dude walks around the kitchen corner into the living room and then as he came closer i realized it was my brother and i was so excited and happy and im sure i probably cried.

But dont get it twisted. My brother was a dickhead. Like one time we jumping on the trampoline and he was just tormenting me and i finally broke down and called him an asshate because he kept calling me an asshole and i thought he was saying asshat (tbh he probably was, he was weird, it's were i get it from).

But anyways, when he finally got out of the military, I think it was only 2-3 years but for a 6 year old that's forever, he still lived with my parents and me and my other brother. And then he went to work for the gas companies and we would go visit him when he was out of town on the job. Dickhead was always leaving.

But, Dickhead was also one of my most favorite people I have ever known or met on this planet. I used to take dance lessons and every year they would put on a spring show and i was apart of it one year. We had an afternoon and evening show. My parents and grandparents and i think my sister and aunt and cousin probably all came for the afternoon show. Somehow it got arranged that my older brother would pick me up from the evening show (i think he still lived with us im gonna have to check with my parents). Well, the show was running later than expected and so he came at the time he was supposed to and i was still dancing, so he got to see the second half of the show for free. And then, we bullshitted in the car, called each other foul names as was the usual and laughed about it, and then he took me to the local Wegmans, and used pocket change to get us some gummy cherries. And he showed me this neat trick where if you hold the bag up just a little you can get the candy for a cheaper price. I'm pretty sure my 13 year old self thought this was totally badass and amazing. Still kind of do. Fuck capitalism. And so he's driving us home, its dark out by now, we're eating the gummy cherries and he says they look like dogballsacks. So now, that's what we called them the rest of the ride home. It was really great that he just did that for me. And he actually sat and watched the show. He could have easily turned around and waited outside in his car. His red Cadillac.

Anyways, he eventually moves out, gets an aparment near my aunts house, moves out of that apartment into a new one, his gf moves in with him, and he starts taking classes at the local college. Just gen eds, he planned on transferring to get a degree in nanotechnology. I was in high school, and one time we switched homework because he hated math and I hated english, but i didnt know how the college math class he was taking wanted me to solve the problems so basically i got him to do my hw, and he still had to do his hw too. But I'm pretty sure I had to add to mine too because my hs english teacher wanted us to annotate a certain way and shit. That was in tenth grade I think.

In 2014, the same year, my eldest brother took his life. He was 26, a few weeks shy of 27. I was 15 at the time and immediately stopped attending public school, and eventually made a full transition to home bound. It's where a teacher comes to your house and brings your work and tutors you like two-three times a week. It was really nice, but really isolating and lonely. I started tsking antidepressants and going to therapy, both individual and family, but stopped all three of those things eventually all at different times for different reasons. For my junior year i did online school through the local hs. It sucked. It was terrible. Probably the worst i ever did academically. Like C's and D's started popping up with my A's and B's. I just wasnt learning and wasnt understsnding and didnt feel comfortable reaching out for help.

I would say I've pretty much been in emotional turmoil since I became counsious and could remember things. Yes. It is all in my head, but that's the problem. And now, im ready to get professional help. Because i want to remember my brother. Every single memory of him i want to always keep. But I've spent a really long time trying to actively forget and black out the memories because it just hurts so fucking much almost all the fucking time. I feel like ive been burning my brain away with marijuana just to survive. And now im ready to change and need the help to change. But i have no money to pay for that help. And my insurance does not cover it fully which is what i need. So, im just out here, trying my best and living my life. Im always going to try.

I've found music to be really healing, and have put everything i have into making this album. It's raw, and personal, and explicit. It's physically difficult for me to express myself by talking, but singing and writing are so natural and easy to me. And no im not a great singer, or writer, but it's what i love and enjoy doing. More practice=more skill/talent.

I hope anyone who stumbles upon this, (including my future self) is inspired to do something they love not because they are good at it, but because they love it. That's the only thing that matters. When im old and wrinkly and dried up and crusty, I want to remeber myself as happy, kind, caring, strong, passionate, and i want to have so many memories of peope, places, and things that I love.

#bsl #i #hope #proud #of #me #storytime #family #creativescommunity #music #self love and respect #mental health journey #you're