#jimmy life series. i'm getting so locked up.

[starglowwos]

canary curse things. thinking about canary curse things

i'm hesitant to say the canary curse has been broken—what, no, of course it has been, jimmy died second instead of first, and the canary curse is all about dying first— okay hear me out i swear i make sense

my thought is that patterns can change. patterns aren't always static ones. just because something new happened this time around doesn't mean the pattern's been broken, it may have just changed its rules a bit.

joel had a pattern of having no true allies up until double or limited life, where it instead became a pattern of being isolated, for example

now, before we get into the canary curse specifically, let's talk about some other patterns

scott and martyn tend to drag themselves as well as their allies up the leaderboard. they both tend to outlive their allies. grian tends to kill his allies. ...i feel like i should put more here but that's all i can think of right now

now, the way i see it, is scott, martyn, and jimmy in particular all have some sort of weight to them. positive meaning they drag themselves and their allies up the leaderboard, negative meaning the opposite. scott and martyn have a positive weight, whereas jimmy has a negative one.

what i think's happened here is that martyn and jimmy's weights have tugged on each other, and as a result, martyn turned yellow and red first instead of much later on, and jimmy died second instead of first.

jimmy's pull is strong, i think, and so he tends to die first every time. just because he tends to die first every time doesn't make that a rule, though - it just makes it a pattern, one that's been broken. the pattern that hasn't been broken, though, is jimmy being one of the earliest to die, and jimmy dragging his allies down the leaderboard with him.

jimmy died first in 3rd life, and dragged scott down to 10th, and scott finally turned yellow right before jimmy died. jimmy died first in last life, and dragged mumbo down with him, and they were a similar color pretty much the whole time. jimmy died first in double life, and dragged tango down with him. jimmy died first in limited life, and joel died quickly after. jimmy died second in secret life, and dragged martyn's color down with him.

martyn, though, doesn't die yet, because of his positive weight. he's often tugged further up the leaderboard, and so while jimmy may drag his color down and martyn ends up first yellow and red, martyn still manages to stay afloat.

martyn is stubborn is the thing, lmao. he stays alive out of spite and just because he wants to, and so he does, and he makes sure he does. now that the stakes are higher and one wrong move could mean losing everything, he's being a lot more careful than he was earlier on.

and let me just reiterate for a second - he's stubborn. once he's got an idea, he's locked onto that idea until he gets it done or literally can't anymore. martyn will drive himself up the wall before he gives up on something and even then he'll need convincing or more likely a distraction. he didn't give up on ren in third life til he died and couldn't do anything anymore. he didn't give up on trying to kill scott in last life til he died and couldn't do anything anymore. he didn't give up on getting a diamond chestplate in secret life until he got it despite how much it cost him in the end. outside the life series, even, i'm rewatching rats right now- martyn will try to climb a wall over and over and over until he gets it or something gets in the way. he'll be texturing a model and complain to chat about how painful it is and still decide to spend the next hour and a half getting the damn thing done even though he should've logged off for bedtime 2 hours ago. (yes martyn i am calling you out, enjoy)

and so martyn doesn't die! he's yellow first, he's red first, and all other red names die, but martyn doesn't. because yeah, maybe he's impulsive, but he's in this for himself and himself alone and there's no way in hell he's dealing with a wither and a warden that's just killed three people. (he did try and steal the kill though. martyn do you remember what happened last time you tried to steal the kill, you fell into the void and died)

jimmy isn't as stubborn. jimmy's a lot more forgiving, a lot more lenient, and as much as he's being more aggressive this season, he's reckless about it and impulsive and his reputation isn't helping him here.

jimmy lets things happen to him. as upset as he might act about it, he never actually does anything about it, and it gets him killed. he's afraid to break the rules, he's afraid to make people uncomfortable or upset or hurt, he starts genuinely tearing up at the thought of pulling a bait and switch on skizz, and that's the kind of thing martyn does on a daily basis lmao

jimmy is forgiving and passive, martyn and scott don't forget so easily and aren't afraid to make people upset, grian's somewhere in between.

#solidaritygaming #jimmy solidarity #inthelittlewood #martyn inthelittlewood #secret life smp #trafficblr #secret life spoilers #secret life smp spoilers #canary curse #the canary curse #scott smajor #joel smallishbeans #i guess. they're mentioned #c:/sgos/talking #we could do some really cool celestial object analogies here probably #like gravity stuff #maybe orbits #somebody think about that please #slsmp #slsmp spoilers #slsmp jimmy #slsmp martyn #secret life jimmy #secret life martyn #c:/sgos

[hybbat]

Ok hear me out.

The thing about limited life is that Jimmy losing was absolutely Grian's fault and Jimmy's biggest mistake was trusting him not to kill his allies a ridiculous number of times in the stupidest ways. Incredibly unrealistic of him, I know, but ultimately a Grian problem. He took more lives than anyone from Jimmy I'm pretty sure.

There are other factors, like Jimmy not participating in pvp and thus despite having one of the fewest deaths also never stole back any time unless it was given to him (or etho), being a stay at home malewife who was off doing chores or arguing with his neighbours while things were happening, and never getting the boogieman curse. But lets be honest, Grian's the one who wittled away at his time repeatedly while in a possition for Jimmy to trust him. Several of Grian's attemtps to kill other people only killed Jimmy.

Did allying with him save him from being killed by Grian even more or just give grian more chances to kill him? We'll never know maybe. But we do know Grian's gotta get Jimmy killed each series, just enough to matter based on that game's mechanics, so Jimmy won't be safe until they aren't a prominent part of each other's pov.

Therefor I think Jimmy's next allies should lock grian up in a cage in a lava pit until the last episode when someone else has already died first.

#it probably wont work but i can hope #trafficblr #solidaritygaming #anyways jimmys curse isnt being a canary its being grians baby brother #grian always kills him or gets him killed enough to make a difference in every series

[froggymarsh]

hi!! can i ask for #27 with empires joel or maybe life series bad boys, whichever u think fits the song better? :D

love this song :D it's in french so i'm going entirely off of vibes 😎👍

Joel always feels the smallest when he's walking next to Lizzie.

She towers above him- all blue scales and flowing pink hair like a waterfall down her back. Her tail swishes lightly behind them, almost inseparable to the trailing fabric of her dress. A webbed hand holds his as if he's something precious, and Joel can't help but feel so small.

He's been working on it with Jimmy. Being small around Jimmy is as easy as breathing, but being small around Lizzie is hard! What if she thinks he's weird? Or that he's weak and can't handle himself? Or what if she sees him have an accident?

He squeezes her hand and tries not to think about it. To his surprise, she squeezes back.

He tilts his head up. A cloud halos her head, glowing a lovely pink in the fading light of sunset. She smiles, and Joel's breath escapes him.

She's beautiful.

"Hi," he whispers.

She laughs, light and beautiful, like the kind of bell that would give an angel its wings. "Hello, Joel."

He's feeling brave. "Can I paint you?"

"Paint me?" Lizzie repeats as they step carefully into the Mezalean Matral Palace, nodding to terracotta guards and making their way up to where she knows Joel's bedroom is. "You can, Joel, but right now it's bedtime."

"Please?" he asks, a breath of a thing. He nearly trips over his own feet, eyes locked on Lizzie's. She catches him, looking down again, and he gives her his best puppy-dog eyes, "jus' fast before bed?"

Lizzie smiles, then sighs and reaches over to ruffle his hair.

"Fine. Just fast before bed."

He beams, grasping her hand in both of his and practically drags her all the way up to his room.

Once there, he releases her hand, ducks through the curtains that make up the door, and bounds across the room to the dresser that holds all of his chalk. He pulls it open, yanking a bit when it catches in the middle, and digs through it, pulling out all the blues and pinks that he can find and dumping them onto the floor.

"Oh, careful," Lizzie calls, "don't break all your chalk!"

"I won't!" he shouts back.

Once he's got all of them out, he turns, makes the front of his shirt a pouch, and scoops all of the chalk into it. Then he walks along the wall and finds a place that hasn't been drawn on- a spot in the middle of a small field of sunflowers. He thinks he was saving this spot for something else, but he doesn't remember anymore. It was probably supposed to be him and Lizzie.

He kneels down and dumps all his chalk on the floor again, whipping his head around to see where Lizzie is. She's laying pajamas out on the bed.

"'izzie!" he calls.

She looks up. He pats the spot on the floor next to him. She laughs and makes her way over, a towel draped over her arm.

"Sit sit sit," he says, patting the ground again. She crouches, and instead of sitting like he wants, she removes the crown from his head and fluffs out his hair. "Hey!"

"Just a minute, pumpkin," Lizzie leans down, kissing the top of his head, "I'm going to get everything ready for bedtime, and then I'll come sit, okay?"

Joel pouts.

"I promise," she shifts the crown into her other hand and extends a pinky. "Pinky promise."

He pouts more, but reluctantly wraps his pinky around hers and shakes it once.

She kisses his cheek. "I'll be right back."

He squirms away, giggling, and turns to the wall as she walks away. Before she can disappear, he gets a blue off the floor and starts with an outline.

He's drawn Lizzie a hundred million times before- usually in paintings of the ocean, or in her office, or high up in a tower, or flying through the air on a trident. Many of the drawings are hanging on his walls, in fact, or scribbled in the margins of his notebooks, doodled on the backs of napkins or on blank pages of old books, always careful, always detailed, never as breathtakingly beautiful as the real thing.

Joel grips the piece of chalk tight and vows to make this the best drawing he's ever done.

The chalk scrapes gently against the wall as he works. A bathtub fills in the other room. The wind chimes on his balcony sing, rocked by a gentle breeze. He adds himself next to her- sticks his tongue out between his teeth in concentration- squints at the wall, completely absorbed in his task.

He looks up at the swishing of skirts, and finds Lizzie carefully tracing her fingers along the shapes of sunflowers as she approaches.

"'izzie," he whispers.

Lizzie looks up. Her smile makes her eyes crinkle.

He pats the floor in front of his drawing, and she comes over, obediently kneeling down in front of it. He sits in her lap, pieces of chalk in both hands.

She wraps her arms around him, content.

Then, she gasps. "Is that us?"

Joel nods, trying to scoot forward while still staying on Lizzie's lap. She lifts him and shifts closer to help him reach.

"What are we doing?" Lizzie asks, the gentle tone of her voice warm and safe and wonderful.

"Dancing," Joel answers, finishing the brown on either side of the green stripe in his hair. Then he whispers, "do you like it?"

"I love it," Lizzie whispers back, "you're doing amazing."

And there they sit for an hour or so, listening to the quiet scraping of chalk on the walls and Lizzie's gentle questions. When Joel is properly covered in colorful streaks of chalk dust, his head drooping, Lizzie carefully removes the chalk from his hands and scoops him into her arms, kissing his forehead on the way to the bathtub.

He protests, but quickly settles in the warmth of the water, the flush of his face hidden by mountains of bubbles. After a bath, Lizzie carefully dries him off with a towel, helps him into brightly patterned pajamas, then tucks him into bed with another kiss to the forehead.

She slips across the room to gather up piles of chalk when he calls out to her.

"'izzie?"

She looks up, straightening her posture to meet his eyes, "yes?"

"You're nod'eaving?"

"Not yet, pumpkin," Lizzie answers, returning to her task, picking up three more bits of chalk, "I'm going to clean up first."

"Can you stay, p'ease?"

She pauses. Looks up again.

"For how long?"

"All night," he whispers, pleading, "p'ease?"

She smiles, "of course."

He beams, shifting to one side of the bed to make room.

"I'm going to finish cleaning up first, okay? I'll be there in just a little bit, love."

He nods, fast, and Lizzie returns yet again to her task.

She finishes quickly. Calls for a maid to retrieve one of her spare nightgowns, sings a lullaby to Joel while she waits. When it's brought she changes quickly and climbs into bed next to him, the curl of her tail reaching all the way around him, the tip of it pressing lightly on his back for only a moment.

He's barely awake now. She leans forward, kissing his forehead yet again. This time he doesn't open his eyes, letting out a gentle sigh.

"Love you, 'izzie," he murmurs.

She smiles, "love you too, Joel."

//

The morning brings embarrassment. She'd expect nothing less- he's always embarrassed after regressing.

He apologizes. She tells him he's cute. He blushes a lot, insisting he isn't cute, that he's never been cute, but Lizzie boops his nose and his words dissolve into meaningless fluff, and he buries his face in his hands and lets himself be scooped into a hug, pressed against her chest.

She can feel his heartbeat. She tucks him under her chin and hums.

They have to get up eventually. Lizzie has to go run a kingdom.

Before she does, Joel spots the drawings on the wall.

"What's this mess?" he asks, but the flush on his face suggests he remembers what happened, knows exactly what it was. Lizzie smiles.

"It's us," Lizzie answers, "we're dancing."

Joel smiles, his eyes full of nothing but fondness as he looks up at her. "So we are."

#joel tag #lizzie tag #empires agere #froggy drabbles #THINKS ABOUT THEM. WAAAUGH. #the themb. the belobeds. #started joel pov and ended lizzie pov i'm doin great /lh #might edit this and put it on ao3 later. thinks.

[i-want-all-the-cookies]

Hey, it's me, crawling back after being gone for a while 🥸. Unfortunately I've had to deal with a series of unfortunate events in my life. One of which was losing my notes (AGAIN) 😭. Soo in the attempt to try and get back into the swing of things, I'm gonna post some of my story wip ideas in hopes that it will motivate me enough to actually start writing again.

Note: I'm not including my Jimmy, Forrest, or Philip fics as those have already been started. This is just for wips of fics I only have minimal notes on right now.

Wolf fic

Wolf/Reader or OC

Found friends, unlikely friendship, wrong number, catching feelings for a stranger, dealing with grief

Summary: You're left with an empty hole in your soul after the loss of a great friend. A void that you attempt to fill as you reach out to find some kind of closure. Basically, you wrong dial/text Wolf. He humors you at first with responding, since he's bored and finds your messages entertaining enough to pass the time. But somewhere along the line feelings start to develop, even though he's never even seen your face. Most of this story takes place over messages and almost encounters.

Wolf fated mates fic

Wolf/OC or reader

Enemies-lovers, rivals-lovers, semi forced proximity (both are union members having to deal with union shi), fated mates au, no shifting, mate reveal at age 18, you know before he does, trying to be the bigger person is HARD

Summary of sorts: A member of the union under Yeo-Il. Think Donald's a huge ass but the pay can't be beat, even when having to deal with other union members like Wolf. Especially Wolf. Who you can't seem to get along with from the very first encounter. You both are basically water and oil having to coexist in the same space. But then you turn 18 a couple months before he does, and realize that destiny has played you for a fool, by making Wolf your fated mate. So now you're left trying to figure out what to do next.

Notes: was reading waay to many werewolf stories during the creation of this story idea 🙃

Donald fic

Donald/OC or reader

Oppites attract, aged up characters, both already in the workforce, forced proximity due to work, one night stand not staying a one night stand, very low spice (for now anyway), mostly just sexual tension, expanding on one of my oneshots

Summary-ish: A crazy night out with friends leads to an unexpected one night stand with a dangerous but handsome looking stranger. You check it off as a very delightful YOLO experience, never expecting to meet "what's his name" again. Until you find yourself sitting in a conference room, while your boss introduces the new business partner your company is doing a collaboration with. And if that wasn't awkward enough, you get voted to be the employee to spearhead the details of this new business merger.

Notes: this came about when I mentioned to someone about how cute it would be if Donald developed feelings for someone like the character in my karaoke crackfic. A very opposites attract that just happens to work despite their differences. Only for them to shot that idea down and state he would be better off with someone like one of their own OC's, who's more like him 😐🤨😮‍💨

Welp, challenge accepted I guess.

Jake 7 minutes in heaven fic

Jake/OC or reader

Quiet and reserved character meets popular and outgoing character, opposites attract, 7 minutes of heaven game, forced proximity due to game, aged up characters, college au, college frat party, fish out of water

Summary: You get dragged to some frat party by your more outgoing and social bestie, only to be left alone while they make out with some rando. While trying to blend in and look like you belong you end up getting paired up for a round of 7 minutes in heaven, and before you can even begin to protest, you end up locked in a closet with Jake Ji.

Notes: Haven't decided how spicy I want to make this one. Should I make it more suggestive in nature?  Or should I crank the spice level all the way up 🌶🔥😈

Alright. That's it. Now to wait for some motivation vibes to come and find me.

Also, completely unrelated, but is it just me or have the porn bots uped their game while I've been m.i.a? Like not only are they "following" but now they're also liking posts? And not even locking their accounts, so when you click on the profiles you get an eyeful of "activity"! Like wut in the... left me completely shooketh.

#saw others posting wips on discord and took inspiration #hopefully it works #give me some motivation please universe 🙏 #Weak Hero wips #Weak Hero

[blocksruinedme]

not sure if that reblog was an invitation to ask about a ship, and if not apologies for this lol, but scar/jimmy?

-💛

Scar/Jimmy - you want my brutally honest opinion? GIMME!

I don't have a story in it for me right now. I was hoping for Limited Life inspiration, and it's not ep 1 but who knows what could happen in this chaos series! I started sketching out a crossover "fwhip scott scar and jimmy" raunchy fic based on everyone having rooms in scar's hotel, but it didn't really come together and the moment passed.

They are good, good boys. Minus all the "constant assassination" with Scar and the "people don't seem to realize how much he causes the chaos around him" from Jimmy - no, that's good! But something about their at home, 1:1 kinda vibes works very well for me. When they were alone together in Trouble Town, they are happy and nice and comfortable and should kiss. When Scar did leave for hermitcraft, and jimmy locked him up... he didn't call him that word, he just threatened to, and literally only under the circumstance of "being kidnapped in the wrong dimension".

I want them to stay up late talking in TT and not be self conscious about not knowing how to say shit. I want Scar to teach Jimmy minecraft stuff. I want them to go out and murder together and cause problems! Hot Guy's got Cute Guy for his fellow-superhero sidekick, but Jimmy can be his... well, his Jimmy Olson, his plucky powerless pal who helps him on the ground. (I'm just coming up with shit on the fly now) I want them, for no particular reason, to decide to spend an episode running around LimLife scamming people and burning things down. (And then kiss.) If I get suitable content from LimLife I will write something. So, let's manifest, lads! MANIFEST!

#scar/jimmy #solid...scari...jim...goodtimeswithsolidarity? #goodtimeswithsolidarity #me #answering asks #shipping #send more asks for brutally honest ship opinions

[cherrycheridarling]

lockscreen | t.h.

tom holland x famous!reader

warnings: none just fluff

summary: tom goes on jimmy fallon for a game of 'show me your phone'. being the oblivious child he is, tom forgets about his lockscreen.

wc: 1.4k

"Welcome back! We're here again with the star of the Spider-Man series, Tom Holland!" Jimmy's announcement drew cheers from the audience. "Tonight, we are going to be playing a game called 'Show Me Your Phone'."

Jimmy went on to explain the game to the crowd as Tom sat across from him patiently waiting. Jimmy pressed on the button first and ended up showing the world that his last photo was a selfie taken minutes ago in the washroom. That gained a lot of laughs. Then it was Tom's turn.

"I'm terrified. I don't even know what's on my phone." Tom shook his hands before firmly pushing the button. It landed on the iMessage icon. "Oh? My last text message convo?" he began to unlock his phone. Eyes skimming over his lockscreen.

"Yup, and once it's locked in, you can't touch it." Jimmy reminded him of the rules as Tom quickly skimmed through his last conversation.

Tom ran a hand down his face before chuckling, "Oh, geez. Alright, some context, I needed help picking a tie for tonight and my mate, Harrison, is nowhere near helpful."

He placed his phone in front of the camera as the conversation appeared for the audience to read.

Tom: haz what tie? red or blue?

Harrison: youre ugly either way

Tom: you look like dolores umbridge. pick a tie ffs

Harrison: mm my babe umbridge. jokes. i'd say purple

Tom: you're gross and no help at all

Harrison: have fun babe the bed is waiting for you

Tom: don't make me puke before i go on the show

Harrison: puke on me daddy

The crowd bursted out into laughter along with Jimmy as Tom covered his beet red face in embarrassment. "He is going to kill me for showing that." Tom was laughing as he spoke.

"That's hilarious! Okay, my turn." Jimmy ended up sharing a voice memo of him reminding himself to do chores around the house.

Tom wiped his hands on his pants before pushing the large button again. It landed on the lock icon. "What does that mean?"

"You have to share your lockscreen."

Tom's posture visibly stiffened at the information given. He wished he had gotten some warning before coming on the show. A caution sign telling him to erase everything on the iPhone.

His lockscreen was a memory. A keepsake. You. A piece of his heart. A reminder of happiness and the loving moments you shared with one another. It was taken a little over a year ago at Zendaya's house for a get-together with a few close friends.

You were propped up on the kitchen island, a wide smile on your face. Tom standing in between your legs with his back to your chest. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as he tilted his head and placed a kiss on your cheek. Jacob Batalon had captured the moment. A heartwarming interaction that you had both done an outstanding job at keeping under wraps.

You had been dating for nearly two years. How you had managed to keep it hidden for such an extended amount of time was a wonder to everyone who knew, including yourselves. It wasn't that you were both set on no one ever finding out, you just never saw the need to. It was your relationship, only meant to be shared between the two of you.

Tom hoped you wouldn't be mad if the world found out, but he enjoyed the privacy and the feeling of having something that was only his. Something he didn't have to share with the globe. Tom debated on his options. Showing the picture and making headlines for the next week or refusing to do so and ruining the game while making everyone suspicious of him.

The former won.

"Okay, um." Tom nervously let out a laugh, "Surprise?"

With shaking hands, he placed his locked phone on the stand and avoided looking into the crowd as reactions varied throughout the studio. Gasps, cheers, 'aww's, even some screams. Both of his hands shielded his expression from the cameras as he allowed the audience to examine the photo.

"Oh, my god! W-what?!" Jimmy stammered, shocked what his eyes saw, "That's Y/N Y/L/N! A-are you two?" his eyes flicked from the phone to Tom.

Tom nodded slowly, "Yeah, yeah. It is and we are. Nearly two years steady." this intel drew more shocked reactions from the habitants of the studio.

"This is amazing! We love Y/N! But wow, how did no one know?!" Jimmy was still in disbelief.

Tom smiled at your name, "I may be loose-lipped with movie spoilers, but this is proof that I can keep secrets."

Jimmy's mouth was agape, "I have so many questions and you are so lucky that we are out of time."

Tom released a breath he didn't know he was holding as Jimmy said goodbye to the cameras and they stopped recording.

As Tom made his way backstage to head to his hotel, his heart began to beat out of his chest as he thought about your reaction.

-

Lounging on his hotel comforter, Tom pulled out his phone once again and clicked on your contact. m'lady. Pressing the FaceTime icon.

Your bright smile lit up the screen, illuminating his mood like the sun on a stormy day.

"Hello, lover. To what do I owe the pleasure of this late night call?" you chuckled while sitting up against the headboard of your bed, Tessa laying beside you.

Tom couldn't suppress his grin at your presence even if it was through a screen, "Hi, darling. I didn't know if you would be awake. Isn't it nearly three in the morning there?"

You nodded and pushed your glasses up on your nose, "Had to run some lines with Tess before filming tomorrow. She's a great actress." you panned the camera over to the sleeping pup.

"Sometimes I think you're only with me for my dog." he joked with a light laugh.

"Shoot. I thought I had you fooled." you teased back, "Why did you call, bum?"

He scratched the back of neck and avoided looking at the screen. That was enough for you to know that something was up.

"What part of your movie did you spoil this time?" you chuckled.

Tom shook his head with a smile, brown curls flopping on his head, "Nothing about my film, love. More or less about us." he mumbled the last bit, but you heard it.

Your shoulders tensed involuntarily, "I'm gonna need more information than that."

"We were playing a game where you have to show certain things on your phone and I had to show my lockscreen and, well, you know what my lockscreen is." his nerves grew with every second that your face stayed expressionless.

"Okay. How did they react?" you stifled a yawn.

Tom's eyebrows furrowed at your response, "Y-you're not mad?"

You chuckled, "Do you want me to be mad?"

"No, no, no." he quickly protested, "I just didn't know if you were ready to tell the world about us and I'm sorry for not informing you before making that big of a step in our relationship."

You smiled at the caring boy in your life. His thoughtfulness overpowering any negative emotions that could've surfaced. You weren't mad at all. Two years was a long time to keep a relationship hidden especially when both of the parties are well known to the public.

"No need to apologize, mi amor. It was about time everyone found out. Long overdue if you ask me. I would've appreciated a heads up, but I'm not mad." you insisted, and it was true.

Tom visibly relaxed at your words, "The audience was shocked and some gushed and screamed. Can't wait to see the headlines and news articles tomorrow."

"I can see it now: 'Spider-Man Actor, Tom Holland and Actress, Y/N Y/L/N's Hidden Love'." you spoke in a mocking voice making your boyfriend laugh.

"Can't forget; 'All the evidence of their relationship that the public overlooked'." he joked in the same tone as you both laughed together joyously.

Your laughter died down while a peaceful smile lingered on your lips, "I'm glad you had fun tonight. I should get some rest. Need to be in hair and makeup at seven."

He nodded understandingly, "Have fun on set, darling. I'll talk to you later. Goodnight, sleep tight, sweet dreams."

"Goodnight, sleep tight, sweet dreams, lover." you gave a little wave before ending the call.

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x famous!reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x singer!reader #tom holland fanfiction

[forthechubbies]

What's Wrong With Secretary Park?!

Synopsis• If balancing work and a stubborn ex-husband isn't hard enough, Let's add the boss’s seven sons falling head over heels for her to mix.

Category's• Romcon, Comedy, Office Au.

Duos• BTS x Reader

A spin-off of the original series ‘ What's Wrong With Secretary Kim’ Bangtan Edition! Starring the Handsome, Seo-Joon Park as the Ex husband.

EP. One Two

“ Tae, You tripped me! You’re so dead when I get my hands on you!” Jimin roared. 

Taehyung bolted through the double doors giggling as he shoves them close. “ Yn! Yn!, Help me.” He cried, diving down into the cubby forth up my legs. 

He held his index to his lips. “Shh, Jimin’s scary when he’s angry.”

“Then why would you trip him?” 

“ I wanted to be the first to say Hi to you,” He cheesed. “ Hello, Yn.”

I playfully rolled my eyes. “ Hello, Taehyung.”

Jimin burst the door, ready and willing to commit homicide, but his harsh glare softened when he stood at my desk. 

“Hello, Jimmie.” I cood. “How are you?” 

“ Hi Yn,” His hello was short as he scouted for his brother. “ How are you? Still lovely as ever.”

I giggled tightly. “ You’re such a flirt, Jimmie.- What are you looking for?” I stood up and waltzed over to his side. “ I can help.” 

Jimin lifted a heavy planted pot and set it aside; I feel most people underestimate Jimin because he’s the shortest brother, but His strength is nothing to scoff at. 

“How strong. Handsome, Smart, and strong. You're the whole package, Jimmie.” 

Jimin smirked and tried to focus on his mission, but his bright rosy cheeks gave it away. “ Thank you.”

“ And  You changed your hair color again; you look dashing as a blond- I mean, you look great in any color, but blonde Jimin is a true heartstopper. “ 

Jimin sheepishly tilted his head slightly forward as if he wanted-

“You could feel it if you like.” 

Is it possible to be a bashful flirt and adorable at the same time?

How could I refuse such a generous offer? “ So soft and fluffy.” I didn't realize how childish I sound until Jimin chuckled and mumbled ‘cute.’ 

Combining my fingers through his honey-blond locks, I  lightly scratched at his scalp, earning a small hum for his lips-

“What is this?!”

Jimin and I stared at Taehyung's sudden appearance; he stood in disbelief and disgust. “ I'm hiding for my life, and he gets the head pats!? He's not a good boy; I'm a good boy!”

“A good boy wouldn't trip me up while walking downstairs! Yn only gives actual good boys head pats like me! Her favorite!” Jimin purred, tugging my body into his arms. “Hmph.”

I'm getting an uneasy feeling about this conversation. Maybe I should butt in “Now Now, Boys, Your father-”  

Taehyung stiffed his jaw, and the base in his voice dropped several octaves.. “ You’re not her favorite! She needs a man, not a duckling. That's lost its mama.” 

Oh dear, Thank you goodness, Jimin released me, and I managed to get out the way. Being sandwiched between those two during a heated argument isn't the best place to be; trust me. 

The safest place is the sidelines-

“Noona? May I have some candy?”

“Huh? Sure hun, look in my top drawer.”

“Thank you.”

Wait a minute! “ No, No,” I wedged in-between my desk and Jungkook. “ Your father warned me about giving you sugar—no treats for you.” Jungkook doesn't give in easily; he played this dirtiest card against my weak heart. Oh no, not the puppy dog eyes. No! You must stand your ground! 

“ But Noona, ” He whines.

In hindsight, He could easily reach over me, but I appreciate him asking permission first.

“Alright, Alright, but One-piece, that's it, ” He leaned over, snatching up the sweet piece of candy from my fingers. 

“Yum!” Jungkook often squares his brows when something is tasty. “ What are the hyungs arguing about?” 

“Who’s a better good boy?”  

“They're both fools-I’m the good boy. Duh!”

In the drop of a hat, Jimin and Taehyung barked at Jungkook, who once was an innocent bystander turned into a new target. 

The three babies started utter chaos, yelling at each other until the veins in their necks popped, but it's never something to be alert about because in less than a second their hugging each other and laughing.

Shoot! I should tell Mr. Jeon the babies are here. “Mr.-Jeon…? What’s all this then?” Balloons? Streamers? Jin and the others froze midway between hanging more decorations and standing on a chair. Mr. Jeon stood taping a banner reading ‘Happy Anniversary” on it.

“ Ms.Park!?What-What are you doing here?!” Mr. Jeon tittered. What's with him? I can see the sweat forming off his forehead. “ I-I thought the boys were watching you.”

“ Surprise!!!.. Oh....” The babies faded into silence.

“ Oppa said to watch her!” Jin scolded. 

“ All this is for me? “ 

Namjoon stepped up. “ Yea, We're sorry it doesn't look the best-” 

“Are you nuts!? I love it!!!” Who cares if it's not finished? The fact they put in time and effort for me means the world to me! Especially when it's been a challenging year emotionally and physically with all this toxic husband drama. I felt like I was a stone, not knowing if I was doing anything right because of this new independent lifestyle, but I know I make the best decision coming here.

“ Noona, Don't cry-” Jimin gently wiped my tears away while fighting back his own. The babies are sympathetic criers, but Jimin is something else entirely. 

As soon as they heard my weeping, the men swarmed me with comfort and happiness. 

“Noona, Come on, The cake is melting!” Jungkook took my hands, dragging me to the strawberry cake he’s been refraining from sticking a finger in the pink frosting. 

I love this job.

To be continued... 

#bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts imagination #bts imagine #bts smut #bts namjoon #bts run #bts army #bts #bts x reader #bts jeongkook #bts series #bts taehyung #bts jungkook #poly ot7 #ot7 x reader #ot7 #kim namjoon x reader #jimin x reader #park seojoon #seokjin x reader #taehyung x reader #hoseok x reader #min yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader

[according-to-the-laura]

StackedNatural Day 168: 4x20

StackedNatural Masterpost: [x]

April 30, 2022

4x20: The Rapture

Written by: Jeremy Carver

Directed by: Charles Beeson

Original air date: April 30, 2009

Plot Synopsis:

Castiel has been sent back to Heaven. His human host, Jimmy, tries to regain his life. But the demons won't leave him alone and now his family is at risk.

Features:

Dean’s fishing dream, Cas’ vessel, Sam in withdrawal, Cas getting dragged back to Heaven, Amelia and Claire Novak, Sam getting locked in the panic room.

My Thoughts:

GENUINELY this is one of my favourite episodes of the entire series. It’s at least the 3rd, possibly the 4th time I’ve watched it in the last 8 months. I think it’s a perfect encapsulation of what this show can be at it’s best. It’s narratively relevant to the overall plot without being a huge exposition dump, it takes real care to look at the actual human cost of the actions of one of our protagonists, and it ramps up thematically with Heaven becoming more and more ominous. 

Plus, Misha’s acting in this episode is really some of his best work. Even while watching it I have to remind myself that it’s the same actor playing Jimmy and Cas. His voice, his mannerisms, everything about him shifts so completely. There are very few frames of Jimmy that can be confused for Cas. In the dream scene we see Cas as terrified but almost able to hide it; watching it back, he’s obviously learned that Heaven is trying to cause the apocalypse and devastate humanity. And so much later, we’ll learn exactly what Heaven did to him to make him forget. 

I LOVE this coming immediately after Angel Heart. The human cost continues to be so high, and it affects Claire and Amelia for the rest of their lives. Getting possessed by an angel is arguably worse than a demon; demons take your free will, but angels make you complicit in giving it away. 

The visual of angels taking their vessel with the white light kicks so much ass, as does the warehouse where they all fought being destroyed. I love when the design and narrative implies a battle happening on more than just the physical plane, devastating everything around it. 

As Cas comes closer to humanity and truly falling, he understands Jimmy more and more. Look at a comparison of a scene from this episode with Jimmy talking to Cas, and The Point of No Return when Cas talks to Dean.

The Rapture: “I gave you everything you asked me to give. I gave you more. This is the thanks I get?”

The Point of No Return: “I gave everything for you. And this is what you give to me?”

Notable Lines:

“angel inside of you, it's kind of like being chained to a comet.”

“My name is Jimmy Novak. I'm from Pontiac, Illinois. I have a family.”

“Promise my family will be okay and I'll do it . . . Then, yes.”

“Daddy, aren't you going to say Grace?” “No, honey, I don't think I am.”

“She's with me now. She's chosen. It's in her blood, as it was in yours.”

“I learned my lesson while I was away, Dean. I serve heaven, I don't serve man, and I certainly don't serve you.”

Laura’s (completely subjective) Episode Rating: 10

IMdB Rating: 8.8

In Conclusion: I am so doing a Clairenatural watch this summer. And going to the Angel Heart minigolf with @weedsinavacantlot.

<< Previous Day  |  Next Day >>

#Stackednatural #supernatural #spn #4x20 #The Rapture #my kingdom for apocalypse world Cas in Claire’s vessel

[coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe]

January 3rd or One's Beginning is another's end (Daughters of Darkness)

This passage contains potentially: Explicit Language, Depictions of Violence (including mentions of blood), Smoking, Slang and maybe some bad translations.

Summary: An introduction to the world of the Daughters of Darkness, through the eyes of series protagonist Kirby 'Gluttony' Lucifarian. The first day and night, from her perspective, of them working for the WWF.

Kirby's POV:

Tuesday. The first day of being 'on the job', Tuesday the third of January 1984. Damien got us into the WWF. … Damien, managed to get us into the quickest rising wrestling promotion, popularity wise. To be honest with you, Damien's given us free reign to get to know people, for now. I don't know anyone here. I've heard of people here, such as the most famous giant in the world, and … Hogan.

I'm not here because I earned it, I'm here because I'm a necessity for the team. That's how I view it. That's how I've always viewed it. Vickie needed someone to make fun of and, well, I'm the easiest choice. Then, in the midst of a darker path of thought becoming clearer in my mind...

WHAM

Both me and the figure I waltzed into thudded to the floor, "Oh, my good lord. I'm so sorry are you o..."

I looked at the figure before me, taking in how much trouble I had created in the last three seconds.

Taller than myself.

Head covered by a wild afro.

Around double my weight.

André.

André the giant.

Flat on his arse … because of me.

Oh … Shit.

"Are you alright, Mademoiselle…"

I could tell he was searching for a name but didn't know it. Too frightened to even speak I glanced away. I noticed his shadow move.

"Mademoiselle?"

His footsteps came closer, he sounded … worried, as if he didn't want me to get fired for this.

"Mademoiselle?"

He picked me up, not off the ground, but so I could stand. I whispered out a small 'thank you', or rather 'merci'. His hands still on my shoulders, he smiled sweetly and nodded, as if to beckon forth more words from me.

"I'm Kirby, or rather, Gluttony. I'm new around here."

André grinned, putting his arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer before stopping upon seeing how much taller than every other woman in the company I am.

"Are you, uh …" he searched for the words

"A giant, yes, technically a giantess."

I feel I should summarise the next hour or so, but, André took me on a tour of the backstage area and we talked, about everything. Within an hour I had gained a new friend, a genuine friend, someone who didn't care about my height or looks. I know the only reason he didn't care is because he knows what it's like to be stared at just because you aren't 'normal'.

By the time André's tour had ended it was time for Vickie and Damien's interview with Mean Gene, which I was to attend. I said a goodbye to André and rushed off to perform my usual role.

The Enforcer, or rather, the intimidation device, that's my role in this group, to scare people, that's all I do. Before joining the group I was part of another group back in England, The Celtic Warriors, I was part of a championship winning tag team. Now what am I, a damned intimidation device, a human scare tactic.

The Interview:

Gene's first question for us, actually, Damien and Vickie (whilst I stood behind them and looked 'menacing'), was 'How are you doing so far?'

Damien began, "You know something, Gene, my girls have yet to have a match, but we are doing absolutely fine. In shape, ready to rock, ready to roll. Gene, every one of the Daughters of Darkness are doing fine."

Vickie followed suit, "Just look at us," She gestured to me and then herself, "Don't we look marvellous, Gene."

Gene smirked, "You could say that again, miss?"

"Pride, though you can call me Vickie."

Damien glared at the smaller man, almost as if he was daring him to try and flirt with her.

Gene readjusted and focused in on the prospect of new women in the WWF and the possibility of more matches. "Uh hum, yes, now how soon do you girls think you'll be seeing a match on the cards?"

"Soon, Gene, Soon." Vickie stated, ending the interview by walking off.

The first night after 'work' was surprisingly normal, Damien and Vickie went off in their rental car, taking Holly and Eli with them whilst the rest of us stood around backstage for a while.

Billie brought a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of her purse, lighting one up and walking over to me, sitting down on a box placed near by and blowing the smoke away from me she spoke up.

"What's up with you, Tall-ass."

"Thinking."

"Dangerous pastime hermana."

"I know, hermana"

"You collect phrases, don' cha?"

"They may come in handy, Billie, one day."

"You going to the gym tomorrow?"

"Of course. Gotta train. Gotta … gotta settle in somehow, right?"

"Right, mi hermana, I'll see you around, alright?"

"See ya, Billie."

She waved back at me as she walked away.

Billie was the only person who knew that I 'collected' those little phrases that seem like nothing until spoken. Language isn't my strongest aspect, more often than not I'm silent and I try to avoid other peo-

"Hey! watch where you're walking man!" I yelped out, shocked back into the present moment. Instantly regret flooded my mind as I realised who had barged past me to get out of the building.

Big John Studd.

One of the most disrespectful 'giants' in the world of wrestling. famous for being the one man who pisses André off more than anyone else, including the Iron Sheik.

He sneered back a quick, "Who gives a fuck." and continued to stroll away.

That … that fuckwit. Who does he think he is. I felt a gentle hand place itself on my shoulder. I turned, expecting to see Eli or P.G, I was face to, well, chin with André.

"Forget about him," He started, with that same sweet, friendly smile from earlier, "Damien said you may need a ride back to the hotel. I don't recommend you walk back now, too dark out for a young lady such as yourself."

The way his R sounds turned into faint W's and he missed off or faintly implied H's was calming. Almost in the same way that hearing a parents voice would calm a child after a nightmare.

"Oh, uh, it's okay André, I was going to get a taxi."

He nodded in response, somehow both downhearted and curious, as if he knew that I was either lying to him or if I did get a taxi, the immense pain my back would be in the following day. André sauntered off, leaving me, once again by myself.

I don't mind being alone, in fact most of my life I have been alone, always the outcast, it was only when I got into wrestling that it started to change.

I picked up my bag and started walking, buttoning up my shirt up to the top of my chest, my near-neon orange shirt covering down to my mid-forearm, hiding any noticeable tattoos, except the one on my wrist, when I turned eighteen, I got a small, runic 'R' on my right wrist, in remembrance of my uncle Rory, the tallest of my dad's brothers.

It took about an hour to get to the hotel, an hour of walking through a city I'm not familiar with, when I eventually got to the hotel I went straight to my room and locked myself in. All alone, I could practice or train if I wanted, so I did.

I took off my black shirt, shoes and belt and I stood in the middle of the hotel room and practiced punching, then I switched to doing my warmups and working out, push-ups, planks, squats. By the time I finished it must've been around midnight, maybe one or two am. I got some sleep, waking up at six, getting changed into some fresh workout gear and headed straight to the gym.

You meet all sorts of characters at a gym, or so I've been told. Back in England I would go to my parents house and use our home-made gym to work out. Not an option that I have anymore, however, the moment I got into the gym, I felt like I was in a whole new world, as if I was just getting into the business all over again. I scanned for any faces that I knew, Mr Fuji, Tonga Kid, Sgt Slaughter, Don Muraco, Lou Albano, Iron Sheik, Freddie Blassie, Tito Santana, Jimmy Snuka, Bob Backlund, Gene and Pat, David Schultz, and … who is that?

I walked over to David and this mystery guy, nodding at David and heading to the heavy bag next to them.

"Mornin' Gluttony, André's been talkin' about ya."

"Oh really, Mr Schultz?" I tried to keep my breath noises to a minimum as I continued to hit the bag.

The mystery guy snickered, quickly shutting up after Schultz glared at him.

"C'mon girl, you know you can call me David. An' yeah," He stopped punching and instead leaned on the heavy bag in front of him, forcing the other guy to hold it still "Giant's been talking about him havin' a new friend and how much he likes ya."

"He's a good man, it's good to have friends in new places. Who's your pal, David?"

He smiled and slung his arm around the shorter man, "This here, this is Roddy Piper. He's like you."

I tilted my head slightly to try and make him explain further.

"You are Scottish, right?"

"I'm a quarter Scottish. Anyway, Piper, Do you speak Gaelic?"

"Uh, no, I can play the bagpipes however." his eyes lit up slightly, a sort of mad fire behind a haze of brown or maybe dark blue.

"Well, I'll see you around I guess, I've gotta warm up for later though."

I tried to block the two men out and focus on my own workout but Piper seemed to stick around a lot longer than David. He was still there when my workout ended.

"What do you want?"

"You're a quarter Scottish, you're also a giant. How do you fight? Show me." He seemed to get more energetic the more he talked.

"Right now?"

He nodded, "Right now, c'mon."

He led me to a ring that some other wrestlers were using to brush up their skills.

From the looks of the ring, it was actually used for boxing.

Roddy entered the ring the same way as most six-foot-two guys did, through the top and middle ropes. I tested the ropes, and seeing that they had just enough slack, used them to jump over the top rope.

"I've never seen a girl do that before."

"Mistake number one, I'm a woman, not a girl. Mistake number two, you expected a giant to be normal."

He scoffed out a laugh and got ready to lock up.

We locked up and Piper hit me with a knee to the stomach.

I got him back with an Irish whip into the corner, accidentally winding him by being too stiff.

"You're gonna pay for that, lass." He snarled out, already getting pissed off.

I sized him up, trying to see how high I would have to get myself in order to dropkick him to the mat.

Piper tried to hit me with a running high knee strike but I countered with a dropkick, taking us both down to the mat and slamming my face into the mat.

The mat was a lot harder than I was used to, it felt like I had rammed my head straight into a cinderblock, I started breathing heavier than before.

I rolled over and put my arms up, making an 'X' with my forearms. Piper stopped and walked over.

"You alright?"

I shook my head.

He knelt down and pulled me up into a sitting position.

I hesitated, knowing I had to take my mask off to see what was wrong but truly not wanting to. Piper managed to unbuckle the straps of my mask and winced as he saw what was underneath. My mind went slightly mad not knowing if he was wincing at the injury I had caused myself or the fact that, compared to the rest of the D.O.D, I'm truly the worst looking, beauty-wise, that is.

Hitting my mouth so hard on the canvas of the mat below us, I had managed to hit my mask in a way that the bottom edge, which curved under my chin, cut into my flesh and made me bleed.

I put my hand up to the cut and Piper quickly held my arm by the wrist and shook his head, "Don't you dare."

By the time I received medical aid, which consisted of cleaning the cut and putting a band-aid on it, Piper had given me back my mask and asked if he could work out with me sometime. Knowing that he was currently on a different show, I said sure and we had split ways.

END OF ONE'S BEGINNING IS ANOTHER'S END / JANUARY 3RD

#Lucifarians #wrestling fic

[jimmymcgools]

From ch 17, "Through his airplane window once, Albuquerque had looked like an afterthought, dwarfed by the sky." all the way to the absolutely perfect ending! (since I'm about to chonk on this chapter 🥰❤️)

♥️💙♥️💙 thank you so much! this one got long, wow 

fic commentary meme and my answers

i am WEAK for an indulgent callback and this ending is the most indulgent and callbacky thing i’ve ever done. i really hoped it would give the chapter a sense of closure and finality -- or at least that’s the excuse i gave myself to go absolutely ham. 

Through his airplane window once, Albuquerque had looked like an afterthought, dwarfed by the sky.

i didn’t do it deliberately at the time i wrote chapter one, but at some point i noticed that interesting quirk of jimmy’s very first observation of abq. it’s all sky and mountains and nothing of the actual city: “Albuquerque makes a disgustingly beautiful first impression: the sky as big and curved and blue as he’s always heard it can be, streaked with paintbrush clouds.” 

It had looked like something ready to be forgotten

another callback to chapter 1. “Here, the architecture feels almost temporary, as if it’s been carelessly dropped on some enormous play-mat and forgotten.” i always try to use jimmy’s observations of abq to reflect how he feels about himself at that point. 

along with the thought of the heavy suitcases that he’d watched slip and shift in the overhead lockers before takeoff

i don’t think it really stands out enough to be anything, but i was stuck for list items here and i ended up trying to fold in some of that slippin’ jimmy gaze. the idea that maybe he’s not only looking at people to read them / figure out how he could scam them, but looking for these liability insurance $$ payouts waiting to happen. 

... along with the thought of their drive out to O’Hare, Jimmy silent in the passenger seat of the rental car, the radio off and Chuck’s grip tight on the steering wheel. 

oops--just remembered jimmy says chuck’s waiting in a taxi! 

Jimmy had listened to the line ring for what felt like forever, each silver chime spinning a silver thread across the city, winding toward his mother’s living room. 

more damn callbacks! when he thinks about calling his mother in chapter 9: “He imagines a line emerging from the handset, a thin silvery thread spinning off from his room and his street and then out of Albuquerque, crossing over the Sandias and shooting northeastward, over rivers and fields and Dust Bowl states, until finally arriving in Cicero, in his mother’s living room.” 

It echoed through the handset like it was being piped back to him, like the prison phone was just a sick joke, a closed loop, locked inside

so much of acb is jimmy trying to break out of these closed loops 

In a bright and steady voice, or at least his brightest and steadiest, he had said, “Hey, Mom. Something’s happened.”

law offices of james m mcgill, how may i direct your call! 🙂

It seems unfamiliar at first, but then the city starts to take shape, and he thinks he can see the squat skyscrapers of downtown, the geometric cubes that rise from the flat land. 

i wanted this to be the end point of a series, where jimmy’s first impression is the beginning, and him arriving back from cicero is the middle, and now only here is he finally familiar with the city. the next few sentences are kind of a walk through acb -- "squat skyscrapers of downtown” is similar to how jimmy sees the city in chapter 7 when they go to the movies, then we get central avenue/route 66 “historic and neon-glowed”, and then finally the airport on the “desert shore” like in chapter 14. 

Might even see Chuck’s house, still lit by lantern light. 

ofc jimmy’s thinking of the luminarias but the dramatic irony here was too good to pass up 🔥🔥🔥

And in the west now, clouds. As the sun vanishes below the horizon, they become briefly clear, shadowed with lilac and orange, and Jimmy can see their shape by the light on them. 

you’re going to have to forgive me for how damn metaphorical this is gonna get, but thinking of metaphors is one of the big ways i spark ideas for description, and this ending is really just an enormous chunk of description, so 💀

these clouds. these damn clouds. ever since hamlin snr told jimmy to find a space in the world only he can can fit, jimmy’s thoughts have kept returning to that idea -- and his mother’s innocent words, too: “you were really in no shape”. so the idea that, if he can figure out what shape he is, he’ll know which space he can fit.

and throughout the fic when i was stuck on kim description i’d play with light, and the idea of kim being a source of light, like the sun. the fireworks sequence is a big example, where i wanted to make her as bright as the fireworks, or at the holiday party: “Beneath the hanging Christmas lights, she’s luminous.” 

so when i wrote “and Jimmy can see their shape by the light on them” i was thinking about him seeing the shape of himself and therefore his place in the world because of kim. 

... but the clouds only become briefly clear.

(it’s also a little bit of inspired/stolen phrasing from the end of no country for old men: “and i could see the horn from the light inside of it.”)

If he watched for long enough, he thinks that he could also see them moving slowly, driven by high winds.

oh did you think i was done talking about these clouds? ☁️☁️☁️

this from chapter 11: “A display entitled Surviving in a Moving Landscape shows how the dunes can shift almost forty feet a year in places, driven by high winds”

“surviving in a moving landscape” ♥️ i always thought that was a really nice way to look at the characters of bcs. they’re the animals in the dunes having to adapt to survive, but also the dunes themselves. moving slowly because of these intangible forces on them, adapting to the forces, but changing forever for it. 

The winds move through him, too, hollowing him out.

a future callback, i borrowed "hollowing him out” again for chapter 5 of safs, so keep an eye out 👁

In the darkness, the flat land below the Sandias seems to go on forever, black and flickering with dying embers: scorched earth. 

if i had seen this specific image of abq from the sandias before i wrote the chapter, the light on the clouds would’ve been the city lights of abq -- even BETTER than the sunset! look at it! LOOK!

He can even smell them on the wind: the woodsmoke scent of evening

jimmy thinks of night smelling like woodsmoke on their drive along route 66, and then again on the forecourt of clines corners. bringing that back here with the idea that it’s coming from those imaginary fires of the city lights. 

And he thinks that his whole life since arriving in Albuquerque has been like a controlled burn: searing away the silk shirts and the fake Rolexes and the ice of Michigan Avenue until nothing remains—breath on a cold mirror vanishing—a blank slate. 

(peter griffin voice 👉AHH, AHH, 👉THERE IT IS)

the end here is inspired by this from “how to embrace a swamp creature” by tmg:

Alone with your bathroom mirror Try to get my head straight Breathe on the glass and wait for it to clear Clean slate

Burned back and clean. So he thinks about what he could build. 

jimmy thinking very much like kim here, and especially what she said in the last chapter about the desert being sterile. 

He thinks about his brother on a park bench, surrounded by luminarias. He thinks about a paper-wrapped book with fourteen words inside it.

i really wanted there to be some of chuck in this moment, even though i’ve ended up in such a shippery/kim place. 

He thinks of letting her move against him, move over him, move around him. Of letting her define the edges of him.

the same idea as the light on the clouds, but hopefully a little more apparent! 😂and more returning images, and the seed planted by kim in the white sands motel. 

there’s something so fragile about jimmy’s realisation here, i hope. he really is still doing so much of this for other people. it’s hard -- there’s something about slippin’ jimmy coming to abq and deciding to *dedicate years and years of his life to becoming a lawyer* that’s just... incredible. i tried to get to a place by the end of this fic where it made sense, and of course we all know he ends up doing it, but -- i always wanted there to be this inspiration from within himself to do it, too, outside of him just doing it to follow kim or to make chuck proud. 

but i don’t think he’s found it here, as much as the shape of himself is briefly visible atop the sandia peak. 

Jimmy wonders if he’s allowed to stay here all night, up on the Sandias. Up on this one high place.

oh jimmy if only you could stay up there forever. hamlin snr voice: perspective!!

He imagines waiting exactly here until the sun returns, until it rises behind him and breaks over the mountains. Like sitting beside Kim on the trunk of her car, their legs pressed together beneath the blanket.

this specific idea of holding off on seeing 🌄morning over the sandias 🌄at the end of chapter 16 came as i was planning that chapter. i was worried that ending with a sunrise would seem too final, seem too much like the ending of the whole story, and that chapter 17 would then end up feeling tacked on. 

Then, the dawn had seemed to reach out close enough to touch them, huge and breathless, warm fingers on his skin.

three rapid fire callbacks in these next sentences. first an inverse of this from chapter 6, when kim takes a cup of coffee from him: “He can feel the ghost of her fingers like sunlight on his skin.” 

And Jimmy had inhaled the colors of it: blue and gold and orange, streaks of brightness across the enormous sky.

then white sands: “as Jimmy inhales the air and the colors he thinks that there could be nothing more opposite of a Cook County jail cell than this exact spot in the middle of the White Sands National Monument.”

Morning sliding over the land. 

and this is so niche and impossible, but it’s “I watch the sun rise over this wall / I watch it break and slide” from “graffiti” by throwing muses, which is on the road trip playlist and shows up in chapter 10 with: “A smile crests Kim’s face like the sun over a wall.” but, you know. callback?

And now he stands on the edge of the viewing platform and he looks out into the darkness of the city. And he imagines it all bathed in light.

i said that i decided to shift the idea of the sunrise here because it felt too much like an ending -- and man, the noise i made when i realised that jimmy imagining the sun rising behind him was jimmy imagining the world before him finally illuminated. 

i also loved the idea of the weird clash of him standing there at sunset, at night, and imagining dawn. 

🌄🌄🌄☁️☁️☁️ thank you so much for asking!! 💙

#commentary ask meme #asks #the-parallax-of-rain #a controlled burn

[ghost-in-the-hella]

From the prompt batch: 6. "I'm proud of you, we all are..." (Chloe and Max)

I hope you like really fucking sad fanfic, because this immediately got really fucking sad from the second I thought of the idea for it and only got sadder from there.

Content Warnings for: non-descriptive references to suicide/suicidal ideation, negative self-talk, PTSD, references to past physical and mental abuse, and implied anti-queerness.

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It takes Max twenty minutes to realize that Chloe’s left the celebration and twenty seconds after that for her to realize where she’s gone. She makes her excuses to her family and friends - just a minute, be right back, gotta run to the bathroom, gotta check my makeup, gotta check on Chloe, thanks for coming, thanks so much, seriously Mom I’ll be right back - and starts walking across campus toward the art building. She turns on her phone as she walks and scrolls through the text messages that have come in since the graduation ceremony. There it is, buried under a stream of congratulatory texts:

Chloe: g2g

Chloe: sorry

Max pockets her phone and stares up at the art building. She can’t see Chloe from the ground - that’s kind of the main point of a secret hiding place - but if she squints she can just make out a thin trail of cigarette smoke curling up from the rooftop. She feels a small wave of relief wash over her. Chloe’s been a lot better lately about opening up to Max when she needs help, but sometimes when she suddenly goes missing Max still worries. If she’s hiding on the rooftop and smoking a cigarette, it means she’s still here.

It’s weird to walk through the art building and have it be empty. There’s always people around, normally: working in studios, hanging artwork in critique rooms, building sculptures in hallways, sleeping on the paint-stained couches that sag in odd corners of the building. Her key card still works for the studios, luckily; it’ll probably be deactivated in a few days, once she’s got all of her stuff moved out. The undergraduate studios - a series of loosely connected cubicles formed by moveable white walls - have mostly been cleaned out or at least packed up. Chloe’s studio, all the way in the back corner, is still a mess; the boxes they brought in to pack up their supplies are still empty and scattered around. Max slips into the odd space they found the semester Chloe got her studio, a gap between the moveable wall and the actual wall, where there’s a door that’s supposed to be kept locked but that Chloe figured out quickly how to jimmy open.

Max hated the rooftop hideout for the first few weeks after Chloe showed it to her. Too many bad memories. Even though the spot is nestled between bulky vents and Max would have to climb up on top of them to look down over the campus, just the act of climbing up stairs to a rooftop made Max’s chest close in on itself. Even after Chloe made it into a home away from the dorms for them both, a special place for them to get away from the pressures of school and life, Max couldn’t go up there if it was raining. Rain makes it too easy to remember another rooftop, another time, another girl who wanted so badly to escape.

But it isn’t raining today, and Max has to admit that after nearly a year of hanging out up there it really bears no resemblance to the roof at Blackwell. Every spot that Chloe can reach - and with her long limbs she can reach quite a lot - is covered with her graffiti, spotted here and there with the marks that Chloe nudged Max into making herself (“C’mon, Max, nobody’s gonna see it; I bet no one even remembers this place exists!”). The rooftop is littered with cigarette butts (“The world is not your ashtray, Chloe!”) and food wrappers (“There’s a trash can in the studios!” “Yeah, but there’s not one on the roof, Max.”). 

And, of course, there’s Chloe herself. She’s swaddled in the blanket she normally keeps in her studio and stretched out on her back between vents, smoking a cigarette as she watches the clouds. It looks like she’s been using her mortarboard as an ashtray and her wadded up gown as a pillow. She glances over at Max as Max pushes through the roof door, and her eyes are bloodshot and watery. It doesn’t smell like pot up here (for a change), though, and Max’s suspicions are confirmed when Chloe quickly looks away and discreetly wipes at the corner of her eye with one hand.

“Hey,” Max says gently, closing the door behind her. She sits down next to Chloe, leaning her back against one of the protruding vents. It’s weirdly quiet with the art building shut down for the summer; usually the vents are pumping out all kinds of sounds and smells that are probably as bad for Chloe as smoking. 

“Hey,” Chloe replies, her voice soft and slightly hoarse. “Sorry I bailed, I just--” She waves her hand around abstractly, sending flecks of ash tumbling down onto her shirt. 

Max nods thoughtfully. “It’s pretty overwhelming, isn’t it?”

“Like… If someone says ‘congratulations’ to me one more fucking time, I don’t know, I just feel like I might… might explode or something, you know?”

Max furrows her brows but doesn’t say anything. She tugs at the edge of the blanket until Chloe releases enough of it for Max to join her under it. She presses the side of her leg against Chloe’s, solid and reassuring, and she waits for Chloe to go on in her own time.

“It’s just… I don’t know. I expected it to feel different.” Chloe shrugs helplessly. “I expected to feel, I dunno, vindicated or something. Like, nobody thought I could do it; haha, showed you motherfuckers. But it just…” She sighs. “It feels hollow.”

“I knew you could do it,” Max says quietly. She doesn’t want to interrupt, but she also can never bear to let Chloe’s negative self-talk stand.

“Yeah… But everybody else down there, congratulating us and saying how proud they are and all of that crap… I mean, I’m sure they mean it for you; I’m fucking proud as hell of you, too, but--”

“I’m proud of you, we all are…”

Chloe finally stops cloud gazing and gives Max a dubious look. “Your parents are proud of me?”

“I-- Of course they are.” The words are sour in Max’s mouth, and she blushes under Chloe’s scrutinizing gaze. “They know how important you are to me,” she insists. That, at least, must be true: she’s told them enough times over the years, planting the knowledge as firmly into their minds as possible. They still don’t understand what Max sees in her, it’s true, and they still don’t really approve, but certainly they know that Chloe is in their daughter’s life and she’s not going anywhere if Max has anything to say about it. 

“Mm. Not really the same thing, though, is it?” Chloe flicks ashes into her mortarboard, keeping her eyes trained on Max’s. “And what about the rest of your family? Your grandparents? Your aunt and uncle? Your cousins? You think they’re all proud of me?”

Max loves her family, but she’s not as oblivious as she used to be. Even in the dream-like haze of graduation, she still noticed the glances her extended family - and her immediate family - leveled at Chloe when Max introduced her as her girlfriend. Her grandmother looked like she was taking a swig of soured milk when Chloe shook her hand. Her uncle seemed fine on the surface, but she overheard him making some pretty offensive comments behind their backs. From the look on Chloe’s face, none of this went unnoticed by her. Max decides to switch tactics. “Our friends are proud of you. And I’m proud of you.” 

Max reaches across the short distance between them and laces her fingers with Chloe’s. That nudges a small smile out of Chloe that feels like a huge accomplishment. The smile fades, though, and Chloe clears her throat. She crushes out what little is left of her cigarette and leaves it on the rooftop. “I, uh. I got a text from David earlier. Guess he was actually paying attention when I told him about graduating.”

“Oh,” Max says as neutrally as possible. David is always uncertain ground.

“Yeah. He, uh, he says he’s proud of me.” Chloe makes a sound halfway between a snort and a sob. “Like I give a fuck what he thinks, but still.” She starts picking at her already raw cuticles, and Max gives her hand a squeeze. “Like… he made my teen years a fucking nightmare. He treated me like shit and made me feel bad about myself, and he hit me a couple times, but he made my mom happy, you know?”

“That doesn’t excuse the way he treated you.”

“Yeah, I know, but… He does care, in his own fucked up way…”

“He does,” Max agrees. “But that still doesn’t excuse the way he treated you.”

 Chloe nods. “It’s just… He’s kind of all I’ve got left.” Her voice twists and she has to clear her throat before she can speak again. Max squeezes her hand again. “My dad always believed in me. He wouldn’t be surprised at all, y’know? He’d maybe be surprised I studied art instead of science, but I know he wouldn’t be disappointed. And he’d be proud as fuck. And my mom…” Chloe’s voice breaks again, and Max’s heart breaks a little with it. “My mom would’ve been surprised, probably. Ever since Dad died, I think she kinda gave up on me making anything out of myself. David didn’t really help with that, I guess. Fuck, I didn’t really help with that. But she still would’ve been proud, I think.”

“She would,” Max assures her. “She definitely would.”

“And Rachel…” Chloe mops at her eyes. “She should’ve been here!” she explodes suddenly. “She should’ve been right there with us, getting her diploma and-and-and fucking hogging all the cameras and charming everybody’s parents’ socks off because that was just-- it was just the way she was; it was just Rachel; and it isn’t-- it isn’t--”

Max slides closer to Chloe and puts her arms around her, letting Chloe sob into her shoulder. 

She doesn’t disagree. Rachel should’ve been there.

Kate should’ve been there, too. And Warren, and Dana, and Juliet, and Alyssa, and Daniel, and, hell, Victoria, Taylor, Courtney, Brooke, Stella, Evan, fucking everybody. They all deserved this. To finish high school, finish college, live their lives. She can’t say that out loud, though, not with Chloe already feeling this way. It wouldn’t make either of them feel any better, and it wouldn’t bring any of them back, so there’s no point in saying it. There’s only one way to bring any of the back, and Max won’t do it. She can’t. 

“It isn’t fair,” Chloe whispers into the crook of Max’s neck. “It isn’t fair.”

Max buries her face in Chloe’s hair. She smells like cheap hair dye and the cologne she put on this morning because “It’s a fancy occasion, Max!” and the cigarette she just smoked. Max breathes her in. “It isn’t fair,” she agrees. “But you deserve this, too. And I’m so, so proud of you.”

Max’s phone buzzes in her pocket. Her family is probably wondering where she’s gotten to. They want to take her out for dinner to celebrate. Give her more congratulations, ask more questions about what her plans are now, scold her for not calling or visiting more often. Chloe sinks against Max’s shoulder, her sobbing fading into sniffles. Max kisses the top of her head and holds her tighter. She settles into the blankets and gazes up at the clouds, stroking Chloe’s hair.

Everything else can wait.

#writing prompts #prompt fic #prompt fill #pricefield #LiS #Life is Strange #fanfic #yes i'm still filling these prompts it's just taking forever because sadbrain is sadbrain

[pherryt]

(I'm sending this for a friend of mine) Dean suffers from epilepsy and one morning in his way out of the house he forgets to take his meds. By the time Cas realizes he is running to the Starbucks he knows dean goes to every morning, but it's too late. Thankfully, Cas's twin brother works there and saves the day. happy DCJ ending?

DING DINGDING! This is prompt number 30!!!! 😃

Okay, sothere was a delay because I had to look some stuff up about Epilepsy. I – like prettymuch most people, I think – only knew the basics: It’s a seizure, you can beborn with it and it can be triggered by stuff.

So when I readup on it a little and found it could be caused by head traumas too…this storytook a natural turn towards one of the other series of ficlets I’d alreadystarted – the DCJ Accident story (god, every time I think that one is done,something more comes along!) 

Hope you like this addition to it 😃 (note, I tried to lookup some stuff about the medications – if you should have someone take theirmissed dosed after an episode or not and all I came up with is not DURING theepisode which…duh…so I have no idea if that’s right or not)

1501 words

_____________ DCJ - Accident Part 5!!!

Adjusting tolife after the accident had been a little difficult. Dean was stubborn as amule and Cas and Jimmy still felt guilty as hell. No matter how often Deaninsisted that the accident wasn’t their fault, they still harbored the thoughtsthat if they hadn’t fought, hadn’t yelled, Dean would never have been out thereto have the accident to begin with.

And when –during recovery – it was discovered that Dean’s head trauma had had somelasting effects…let’s just say that all ofthem were freaking out to various degrees.

Dean wasupset because Bobby wouldn’t let him work in the bays anymore, deeming it toodangerous for Dean even if he stuck to the small shit, and too dangerous foreveryone else including Dean if hedidn’t. Stuck on the counter at the garage was not how Dean had seen his lifegoing. He liked working with hishands, god-damn it.

To addinsult to injury, he’d been forbidden from driving too for the foreseeablefuture. Which, to be fair, wasn’t nearly as appealing with his Baby currentlylying trashed behind Singers Salvage, but now he couldn’t even release histensions by fixing her up or goingfor a drive.

On the twinsends, they were just plain scared. Scared for Dean. The first time he’d had aseizure had been eye opening for them that this wasn’t over. That the accident couldstill take him away from them if he had a seizure at the wrong time, in thewrong place.

Not tomention how helpless they’d felt when he’d collapsed in front of them with onlyhalf remembered first aid training to help them through it.

So now thetwins took it upon themselves to set up Dean’s medications and hound after himday after day to make sure he didn’t miss a dose. Things were even starting tolook up. He hadn’t had a seizure in over a month and the doctors had assuredDean that if he stabilized, he could be allowed to drive again.

Bobby wasanother matter. But things were improving. The twins both breathed a sigh ofrelief.

That morningstarted like any other. Jimmy got up first for his early shift. He grumbled andgroaned about it, but dragged himself out of bed eventually. 2 hours later,Dean was the next to get up. Cas burrowed into the blankets Dean draped overhim, suddenly cold without two living space heaters beside him, and dozed.

As usual,Dean came back into the room before he left to gently shake Cas more awake. “Upbabe, you said you have a deadline today, and if I don’t wake you up now, you’llsleep the whole day away.”

“Nnnn…Deaaaan…”Cas pouted sleepily.

“C’mon,sleepyhead,” Dean coaxed with a kiss. Cas hummed happily into it, sighing in disappointmentwhen it ended. “I’m only doing a half day today, so I’ll see you in a fewhours, okay?”

Withanother, last kiss, Dean left their apartment to make the walk down to Singers.Cas hoped the Doc gave the okay for Dean to drive soon. The weather was good enoughnow for making that walk – it wasgood for Dean, and he enjoyed it – but come winter, it would be hell.

He shuffledinto the kitchen and went about making coffee – which in this house and beingthe last awake generally meant just hitting the brew button and waiting becauseeither Dean or Jimmy had left it ready for him, his favorite mug already sat besideit.

This wasgood, because without coffee, Cas didn’t really function very well.

Which wasprobably why it took him so long to realize what he was actually seeing on thecounter. Dean’s mug, untouched beside his.

Dean’s meds.

They’dgotten him one of those weekly dose containers and one of the brothers wouldset it up at the end of every week. Here it was midweek – and only Monday hadbeen opened. Cas picked it up for a closer look, popping both Tuesday andWednesday open.

They werefull.

Dammit –they’d all agreed that the best place to leave pill container was by the coffeemachine because they were all addicts and needed their coffee to function.There was no way to miss it there. So why…? What had changed that Dean forgothis meds?

Cas’s eyeswidened.

Jimmy’sshift change.

With acurse, Cas dove into the bedroom and yanked on the first pair of jeans andshirt he saw – luckily he and Jimmy were the same size and Dean was only alittle bigger so it didn’t really matter -  grabbed his keys and his wallet and ran forthe door. He shoved on his sneakers, not caring he was barefoot in them, thenpaused and ran back for Dean’s pills and his phone before running out the door,barely remembering to lock it.

On his wayto the car, he tried calling Jimmy first – but of course, he was working andunable to answer. He called Dean next, but when it went to voicemail, Cas’sheart leapt into his throat and he tossed the phone to the seat and started thecar.

He made itto Starbucks in record time and parked, running inside and skidding to a stopas he saw the knot of people hovering around something.

Oh god…

Castiel shovedhis way through the small crowd to find exactly what he feared. Dean on thefloor, a Styrofoam cup of coffee spilled around him as he convulsed. Tables andchairs had been shoved away, and Jimmy was trying to keep everyone back. Cas’shand came up cover his mouth as he made a strangled sound.

He ranthrough everything in his head – after Dean’s first seizure, he and Jimmy hadmade sure to learn everything possible just in case. It was heartbreakinglysimple and almost nothing they could actually do but what Jimmy was alreadydoing. He’d cleared the area, he was pillowing Dean’s head in his lap and hadalready unbuttoned Dean’s collars.

People from thecrowd were trying to offer unsolicited advice – all of which would bedetrimental to Dean. Restraining him, putting something in his mouth – these things,while you would think they would help – would actually do Dean more harm thangood. They couldn’t even give him his medicine until the seizure was overbecause he was more likely to choke that way.

Finally,Dean stopped moving. The crowd gasped in a mixture of horror and relief – not knowingfor certain if it was over or if it was over.Cas launched himself forward as soon as Jimmy gave him the all clear, Dean’spill case dropping from his hands as he reached out shakily to check for apulse.

Just as hefound it, Dean’s eyes fluttered open and the crowd cheered. He looked up at thetwins dazedly, “Guys? What’s goin’ on?”

“Dean, you…you…youidiot,” Cas choked out. Now that it was over, he had tears running down hisface.

“Uh…what’d Ido now?” Dean blinked, confused.

Cas couldn’ttalk anymore so Jimmy reached down to pick up the pills and hold them up beforeDean’s eyes. “Dude, we talked about this. Your meds are important. What if thishad happened while you were walking here, or while at Bobby’s? Not everyoneknows what to do when someone has a seizure – “

“What not to do might be more accurate,” Casmanaged.

Dean blinkedat the case without registering it for a moment before he finally got asheepish look on his face, “Oh. I guess I was too excited to come down here toget my coffee from you before work that I just…forgot. I’m sorry, I didn’t meanto scare you either of you.”

“Just, don’tdo it again, okay?” they asked him simultaneously.

Dean agreedjust as the EMT’s got there. After an extensive checking over of his vitals,and questions asked of both him and the twins, they pronounced him fine andadvised him not to forget his medications any more.

And to get amedical bracelet.

Deangrumbled but the twins thought it would be a good idea.

Needless tosay, after that bit of adventure, none of them were much in the mood or stateof mind to work. Dean wound up calling out of work (and Bobby didn’t argue),and Jimmy skipped out on the rest of his shift (his manager nearly shoving himout the door, for that matter) and the three of them went home and just curledaround each other in their giant bed, taking comfort in each other.

After theymade sure Dean took his meds, of course.

#ficlet #300 words or less #epileptic #prompt 30 #seizures #dcj #supernatural #thegrumpykale