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lynmars79 · 16 days

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Reflecting on the meme responses and jokes to episode 12 of season 3 Midst--and don't get me wrong, I'm enjoying the reactions too, after sitting on this for two weeks--and there's specific ways in universe, and by the narrators, in which Weepe's Fold disability is treated compared to others afflicted by their Fold scars.

He's hardly the only weird or monstrous looking person in the cosmos, particularly those who live within the Fold itself, and now many of the citizens of Midst who survived the moonfall. There's people with extra eyes, limbs, even heads. Fiona's left leg is now a man named Jacob. Giselle's personality is replaced by frogs. Fuze's upside down mouth, hidden behind his facial hair. Ettie's constant laughing. Saskia's doubling can even be horrifying in a few ways, though she's currently coping and using it as an advantage, most times.

And then there's Moc Weepe, who was the most noticeably Fold-affected person on Midst pre-tearror. Because of what happened in the Arca, his situation became a lot worse--a situation he tells Imelda was an inevitability someday.

(Was it really? Or is that his assumption, given how events in his life tend to happen? That if it wasn't Imelda pushing him like that, someone else would have sooner or later?)

Weepe's appearance is described as ghastly and horrific, and it is! He's a translucent jelly of a person, innards on display, the Fold visibly slinking through his system. He has to constantly have a pump going, not unlike people who need their constant oxygen, or drainage bags, or other outward signs of their disability.

Weepe's falling into a(n often dicey) trope of his outward appearance reflecting the monstrousness within, though his descriptions in that way are different from others afflicted by the Fold. Many of them are noted by the narrators as simply existing, a little odd but nothing grotesque, even when the descriptions given would be extremely off-putting. They're spoken of as normal, if noticeable, ramifications of exposure to the Fold. The images and descriptions of the Sequester citizens that Phineas, Lark, and Tzila encountered in season 2 could also be considered monstrous by some.

But it's Weepe specifically who murders people with his own tainted blood, even selling it to others (like Lark, unknowingly). Having his security use it to kill Kozma's entourage. I doubt he's sending any samples to the Mothers now. There are indications, too, that Weepe is exaggerating how weak/ill he is to take others off guard (like Kozma). It's Weepe who weaponizes his Fold affliction, with all sorts of justifications pertaining to his own survival and success.

(Perhaps Saskia to a degree also, using her doubling to literally be in two places at once, passing information between herself, but for very different reasons.)

I say in another post that I gotta respect Imelda's monster-fucking game (I've been on the internet for 30 years, y'all). Especially since I consider her as a monster of another kind, the True Believer with ambition and seeking power, somehow seeing Weepe as a key to her own success, willing to do anything to achieve that. So far it's working, and there have been some concerning appendices about her actions as Archauditor already.

It's not so much about Weepe's horrific Fold-altered state (though that is part of it, but unlike with other Fold-afflicted characters). It's not the middle-aged aspect of the participants (that may be part of it for some younger listeners, though Lark and Sherman hooking up is also considered normal to sweet, and Imogen Loxlee is forever a catch).

It is two horrible people, who have done horrible things to each other as well as to other people, giving in to a long-standing tension (Weepe describing Imelda in detail down to her "little sexy suits" during his Arca ranting, and her fawning on Midst and into the Highest Light didn't seem entirely business-driven) for their own dubious reasons that likely have nothing to do with actual romantic emotions, and are more likely as much about their parallel schemes as about the sexual attraction over their matching ruthlessness

Of the relationships, complicated as they all are in this series, it's the potentially most toxic we are shown as sex occurs, in an exchange to cut the various tensions and issues with this particular hookup; it's actually one of my favorite narrator interactions, the awkwardness and uncertainty playing up the funny to describe the scene without describing it.

I just also look to all the discussions about aging, weight, and disabled, and other folks who fall outside our society's norms for desirability, and wish the narrative descriptions did lean a little more on Weepe's actual monstrosity, and not the grotesqueness of his Fold-afflicted appearance. Cuz when they do turn on the Actual Monster Weepe mode, he's terrifying regardless.

Besides, the pump sound effects and ability to "see" Weepe's physical reactions definitely added to the creative descriptions of that scene in a way that wouldn't be possible otherwise!

Anyway. Mostly feel like there's some unintentional line toe-ing happening in some of these descriptors and reasons for them, which is going to happen in pretty much any and every media, especially a semi-improvised one, as our diabolical businessman--inspired by various traditional villain characters--slips further into villainy himself and his oft-described appearance reflects it.

#midst podcast #midst spoilers #Third Person #season 3 #Interest #Moc Weepe #Imelda Goldfinch #Stationary Hill #Fold #Disability #Monsters #Tearror #character description #musing

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teaminstinctinwonderland · 7 months

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Midst: with the power of imagination, you too can become very upset.

Me: I do that often enough on my own. But what the heck, why not do it in a new way?

#midst #critical role #lark #phineas thatch #moc weepe #sakia del norma #stationary hill #jonas spahr #black candle cabaret

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lectern-fullcauldron · 2 years

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one thing i love about the hermits is that they all come with this association with being minecraft gods but most of them are absolutely dogshit at pvp because they play like 1.8 never happened. this post is about joe and cleo

#good to reblog #hermitcraft #joe hills #zombiecleo #thank you scott for teaching cleo to crit a stationary player #joe next please

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warm-mangoes-with-chai · 15 days

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Weepe as soon as Saskia was mentioned:

#like aww boo hoo maybe next time don't sell out all your employees to the state idk #he & imelda kinda deserve each other but I'm p sure he doesn't care for her as much. i was really expecting him to like. kill her after that #I'm not sure if the murder news will stick her that much bc I'm p sure that she knew of weepe b4 she first met him #'i hear your the mayor off stationary Hill' knowing damn well no one calls him that like she knows about him I'm sure #maybe not everything but some key things I'm sure. she's tuned into his potential right?#well let's see #midst pod spoilers #midst podcast spoilers #midst lb

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mimi06550 · 2 years

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This pic wasn’t added to the previous post for some reason T_T

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themarychain · 2 years

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I know ive been on here less but I’ve been busy busy in london! lil life update in tags ig

#I’ve got a job now in a high end restaurant in notting hill #it’s a beautiful place and my boss is great #he says that halle berry lives just down the road(!!) and he loves me cause I work my ass off #I miss my dad a lot but I don’t miss home surprisingly #today was spent on buses and the tube exploring art and stationary shops #it rained on and off throughout the day

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playerkingsley · 1 month

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the population of stationary hill after hearing lark is wanted by the trust for the murder of maximilian loxlee and is currently the most caenumous criminal in the cosmos:

#midst #midst podcast #midst spoilers #everyone: well. that explains a lot #amazing reactions all around

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hp-hcs · 7 months

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(Fine, I’ll do it my damn self: part 10 of my silly lil mlm stories <3)

luna (Chapter Two of Watercolors) — tom riddle x male! artistic! hufflepuff! reader

there’s no romantic relationship between luna and tom just fyi <33

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The next thing the wonderful watercolor boy made Tom was a lake. There was no way to tell time inside the diary—it might’ve been an hour since the Watercolor Boy painted Tom the little hut, it might’ve been a year, who’s to say?

But eventually, the color maker returned. Tom sat back against the low stone fence surrounding his hut, watching with rapt fascination as the paintbrush reappeared, moving with wide, confident sweeps as it created a small lake just at the bottom of the hill. He watched, mouth slightly agape, as the brush hesitated, before slowly painting in a wisteria tree that wept dusty lilac petals all over the ground. A petal fell onto the surface of the lake, staying stationary for a moment before sinking below the surface.

It was beautiful.

Tom laughed, loudly and genuinely, as he sprinted down the hill towards the newest treasure, barely stopping to kick off his shoes before leaping into the lake.

It was freezing. As Tom resurfaced, his teeth clacked and chattered. His robes were heavy with water (real water!) and he had to slowly drag himself out of the depths. He laid on the bank, breathing heavily and shivering.

As he looked up at the never-changing paper sky, he wondered (not for the first time) what would happen if he asked the Watercolor boy to paint him something specific.

What if he got scared off?

What if he stopped painting?

No, Tom couldn’t risk that.

So he kept silent.

~~~

The first living thing the Watercolor Boy painted in the diary was a girl. Barely reaching his shoulder in height, she had long, wavy blonde hair and a perpetually faraway look in her eyes. At first, Tom had wondered if Watercolor Boy had made a mistake while painting her to get such a dreamy look on her face, but then she’d introduced herself as a Lovegood. It all made sense then.

Luna.

Her name was Luna.

Tom thought that was the most beautiful name in the world.

Or at least he did.

“Luna?” Tom whispered, his voice cracking from decades of disuse.

“Yes, Thomas?”

They both laid on their backs underneath the wisteria tree, watching the petals fall and the stars glimmer.

(Stars. Stars! Watercolor Boy had gifted them with stars.)

“The Artist. The Creator. Who is it?”

“Who made me?”

“Yes.”

“Y/N,” Luna trailed off, her voice a comforting dreamy sound. Thick like honey, but too light to touch.

(Tom should ask Watercolor Boy to paint him honey. It would go well with the biscuits from the painted feast.)

“Y/N?”

“Oh, he’s lovely. You would quite well get along,” Luna murmured, closing her eyes and humming some unknown song.

“Y/N…” Tom mumbled under his breath.

~~~

“Thomas,” Luna sings, spinning around barefoot in the center of his hut. Her wand (that doesn’t work inside the diary, as it turns out) is tucked behind her ear, threatening to fall with every movement.

“Yes, Luna?” Tom looks up from his copy of the Quibbler. (The issue was from 1997. 1997!)

“There’s a door.”

Tom blinked. “A door?”

“Yes,” Luna murmured, her earrings swinging as she spun around again. “It’s not painted. It just appeared. Right there,” she slows her spin to point at the wall, where sure enough, there is a door. It’s not a true door, though. It looks cut, like someone took scissors to his beautiful hut and left a jagged doorway.

Tom stood. “Do we- should we go in?”

“I can’t leave, Thomas,” Luna smiles. “I already know. I can see it. I’m not real, so I can’t leave. But you’re real.”

“You- it leads to outside the diary?”

“Yes. I’m just a painting, so I am afraid I cannot accompany you. It was lovely meeting you, Thomas. I’ve much appreciated our friendship, however short lived.”

Tom touched the jagged edge of the door and gasped when the paper cut his fingertips. “I can’t just leave you, Luna. I’ll- I’ll miss you.”

“I won’t be truly gone,” she smiles again, that lovely dreamy smile. “If I never existed, then I can’t ever really be gone.”

Her words hit him hard.

“I’ll miss you anyways,” he said stubbornly, feeling a bit like a child again.

Luna stopped spinning entirely, stepping forward to grab ahold of Tom’s hand, and maneuvering it palm up in front of them.

Tom gasped.

His palm and fingers were streaked with blood from the paper cuts.

Red.

Blood.

Not ink. Blood.

Tom was alive.

#harry potter #hp #fuck jkr #hp x male reader #x male reader #tom riddle #tom riddle x male reader #tom riddle x reader #i love him #gay #these bitches gay good for them

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captainofthetidesbreath · 1 month

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Hey! A bit of a peek at what's going on next for Midst: a three-issue miniseries comic from Dark Horse is beginning publication in August!

Midst: Address Unknown is written by Colin Lorimer with art by Alejandro Aragón. The first cover features art by William Kirkby. Chris O'Halloran and Jim Campbell are also billed on the cover; my guess is they are the colorist and letterer for the series.

The comic seems to follow the events resulting in the founding of Stationary Hill, per the publisher's summary from Dark Horse:

Caught between the Un and the Fold sits the islet of Midst… When their ramshackle postal ship crashes on a mysterious new landmass, siblings Rowan and Ogden Shearwater have to make the best of it. Adventurous Ogden convinces reluctant Rowan to make a fresh start in the strange new islet that sits between the bright Un and the dark Fold. But Midst holds dangers that will challenge Ogden and Rowan’s family bonds as well as their will to survive.

You can read more about it at ScreenRant.

#Midst #Midst podcast #Midst things #Midst: Address Unknown

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lynmars79 · 1 month

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About Imelda Goldfinch

Looking back over episodes, transcripts, and the wiki as a friend experiences Midst for the first time, I keep coming back to Imelda.

She "mistook" Weepe for the Mayor of Stationary Hill when they bumped into one another (literally) in S1 E5 "Missions". She spends the rest of S1 pester-courting Weepe into the Trust, starts him at Zero, and then grants him enough Valor to become Upper Trust for the Cabaret betrayal. She makes sure he gets off Midst in the Consector's flagship.

In S2 she continues her Weepe project, showing him around the city, introducing him to people, accompanying him to Upper Trust meetings. And then the Arca, S2 E13 "Inside." Where she uses her zealousness to torment Weepe until he (outwardly) acquiesces to her.

She knew about his condition, and his medical treatment. In detail. Cameras aren't that advanced in this cosmos, and Weepe keeps that knowledge quite secret; Saskia knew after four years as Weepe's business partner, and being noted as perceptive. When and how did Imelda find out, enough to gauge a normal day's risk (if not enough to know what happens when Weepe gets excited/stressed)?

In S3 she is front and center at the naming of Weepe as Tripotentiary. She automatically becomes his Archauditor, a minimal show made of having to create the position and choice to fill it over brunch. She attends high end meetings like the dinner with Kozma, where Imelda makes interesting notes on her menu (per the appendices) about what Weepe does and doesn't like, among her other notes and reactions.

Then we get to S3 E9 "Baron."

And I have to wonder: Did Imelda "mistake" Weepe in S1 when they met? Was she there not just because of the Breach investigation and/or Moon sale, but for him? Does she know, or at least suspect, who Weepe was before his first Fold-induced transformation and the salvation from the Mothers?

Imelda is a character that fascinates me, and is a bit frightening when thinking about her. She gives some of the same vibes as HP's Dolores Umbridge, but with the caveat that Imelda seems to be a True Believer in the Trust--while also being extremely driven and ambitious. We saw in her Notary prep school yearbook that she had Caenum as a girl (with the note "most likely to Break Even"). When we meet her, middle-aged, she's wearing a wide sash of Valor and regularly rubs shoulders with the Upper Trust.

It took Fuze Peabody his entire working life to Break Even by retirement (and given Lark's past, they start working rather young in the Trust; no child labor laws in the Highest Light I suppose, for those in debt). Most Trustees never reach Zero; it's why so many Breach.

And so much of Imelda's recent Valorous momentum has been due to her maneuvering of Weepe. Of the things she has done with, for, and to him.

Did she gun for Jonas Spahr being removed as Prime Consector? Was it convenient, or targeted? Disdain for the Company or just a way to maneuver Weepe into power? And why? Did she see the incompetence at the top and think it could be better? One of her menu notes is re-starting Valor checks for Upper Trust and other important meetings. Did the Fleit scandal make her think change was needed? Does she think Weepe can get her what she wants when the rest of the Upper Trust cannot?

What does she know? Why is she doing all this? Personal power? Grandiose zealotry? Revenge? A little of everything? Is Imelda the real mastermind and arch villain?

I dunno, and that last may be a bit silly (??) but something is going on with this woman, and she stands somewhere near the heart of this tangled web.

"He's totally fucked" the Narrators say of Weepe when he bumps into Imelda that first time. That's certainly been true in many ways--and I don't think it impossible that it will continue to be, with Weepe maybe not expecting the damage this scarily cheerful little lady with Pollyanna curls can still do to him before the end.

For the good of the Trust.

#midst podcast #Midst Spoilers #Imelda Goldfinch #Moc Weepe #character analysis #Scheduling this for S3 E9's release as I'm ahead #And a LOT of things are coming back around to the very early episodes in these latest ones

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stusbunker · 2 months

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Spotless: Rubato

Chapter Fifteen

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Lee/Pam, Sam/Madison, Benny, Charlie, Elizabeth

Word Count: 3340

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, mentions of Bela's childhood sexual abuse, lots of drunken shenanigans, Benny's not flirting, just being his own charming self, jealousy, Dean is slipping, unbeta'd

Series Masterlist

The week between Christmas and New Years is always a week of stasis, celebratory and lazy, just holding its breath for changes to come. In a word, it’s possibility. You still did some work, but not many requests were coming in and social media was bombarded with gratitude and self reflection. Not many people noticed the band’s lack of posts and you were grateful for not having to make excuses for some family time, for anyone.

Your flight home had been arduous, delays and a layover that just left you a zombie for a solid 36 hours afterwards. You woke up on the morning of New Year’s Eve with a sense of dread. You checked your phone just to be safe and all seemed well, or quiet at least. Annoyed with your brain, you decided to punish your body instead, or practice self-care, depending on who you asked. Your stationary bike had gotten a little dusty while you were out of town, but after a couple miles everything else fell out of focus. The rolling hills made you feel invincible.

It had started as physical therapy after your car accident back in college, but biking had turned into one of your go to hobbies. And as boring and non-creative it sounded, it did you a lot of good when your thoughts got too loud. It was like running away from your problems, but it still benefited you both physically and mentally.

Win win.

By three, you were just waiting to get ready. The outfit you picked out with Bela hung on the back of your closet door still wrapped in the Sister Jo’s bag. You slumped in your robe and scrolled through the news as you waited to switch the wash around.

Different broadcasts covered the various local NYE specials and reminded everyone to drive sober, take the bus or get a ride. You thought Dean said he had gotten rides covered the last you talked, but you weren’t sure who was getting you or when, really. If you needed to meet somewhere to go as a group, you needed to order your ride now or everyone would be waiting on you.

Biting your lip, you called him instead of texting, because your worry was immediate not eventual. He picked up on the third ring, slightly out of breath.

“Hey, Trouble, what’s up?” “What’s the plan for tonight? Are we leaving from your place or are you picking me up? I don’t know where Elizabeth’s Nightowl Cafe actually is, Dean.”

Naturally, he laughed. “Hey, look, it’s not a great time. I’m in wardrobe right now. But I’ll make sure you get home safe. Maybe just head over to Bela’s and we’ll pick you both up on the way?”

“The photoshoot is today?! I could have sworn you already had it.”

“Yeah, well, Christmas took longer than I thought and they wedged me in.”

“Dean—”

“Look, I figured it out. And you didn’t have to hold my hand or anything. Now, look, I gotta drop trough, so if you need to continue this conversation with my dick out, by all means. They’re putting me in white pants, so bye-bye Batman boxers.”

You almost swallowed your tongue.

“Yeah, I’m good. You— you have fun with that.”

“See you tonight.”

“Right, bye.”

You slammed your eyes shut, but the damn visuals still flooded your mind. Gorgeous fucking bastard. You exhaled and called Bela, which was far less of a rollercoaster of a conversation and you agreed to be at her place after five to get ready together.

“You still haven’t said anything about your trip home,” you reminded Bela as she handed you another flute of champagne.

You were both dressed and ready, nibbling on an assortment of cheese and crackers on her oversized kitchen island. From what Dean said about Benny’s cousin’s cooking, dinner was on the agenda, but you had started pregaming and didn’t want to get sloppy too early.

“I’m trying to black it out, honestly. It was such pretentious bullshit. And don’t get me started on my mother’s latest project involving the southern gardens at the summer home,” Bela rolled her eyes and shoved another slice of cheese into her mouth.

“Topiaries?”

“Close, a walking maze. Because apparently Queen Victoria is alive and well,” Bela dusted her hands and raised them in surrender. “At least she didn’t try to force me to bring Dean, that would have ended poorly.”

“Dean is actually really good with moms— but I’m pretty sure he’d get arrested if he had to sit down and have a meal with your dad like he isn’t evil incarnate.”

Bela hummed, sipping her drinking.

You took another bit of cheese and made a sandwich, sensing she was holding something back. “You actually told him about it?”

Bela swallowed and chewed on her words. “Let’s just say Dean and I bonded over our less than stellar fathers, but yeah, I agree with you. In fact he said as much, something about knowing how to hide a body and having a big trunk to drag it away.”

You laughed darkly. “That would be Dean. Prepared, but with violence at the ready.”

“Anyway, setting up another fundraiser for Prevent Together for the new year. Please keep both of your calendars free because I need all my people there, alright?”

“Of course,” you promised, reaching across the butcher block countertop and squeezing her hand. Bela never ceased to amaze you with her strength. You switched gears to grant her some space, “is this the first time you’re meeting the rest of the band?”

“Well, I’ve met Sam. But I’m guessing he’s in on the plan. They’re a bit attached-at-the-hip types?”

You smirked. “Basically a package deal, but I think he’s more protective lately. His girlfriend Madison is fun and I hope they work out, he’s a good guy.”

“So who else do I need to charm?”

“Pamela.”

“Pamela?”

“The drummer, possibly psychic and honestly a little frightening at times. But she’s got a big heart to go with her bluntness. If you can’t convince her, we’re all in for it, because she’s gonna dig. So we’ll make sure you and Dean are on all night. I am definitely snagging some midnight shots, so pucker up, darling.” You teased, but honestly, kissing Dean couldn’t be anything but a treat, even just for a camera.

Maybe you were biased.

“Naturally. Alright, and how does Dean know the owner of the cafe?”

“She’s Benny’s cousin. A good friend and head of tour security, sometimes a personal bodyguard.”

Bela nodded, “I think he’s mentioned him as being on standby if one of our nights out got to be too much.”

You were grateful Bela had paid attention, if she was actually dating Dean, she would know all of this already. The less you had to explain on the spot, the less chance of a slip up.

“Big Cajun guy, total teddy bear. He’ll love you,” you added.

“Nice.”

A mechanical crank sounded somewhere behind you. “Is that—?”

“The garage, they must be here,” Bela gathered the tray and unceremoniously set it inside the fridge.

“How did they get into the garage? I didn’t see you get a text.”

“Dean has the code. Finish your drink,” Bela rushed you.

You slammed the rest of your champagne and added your glass in the sink with Bela’s. Something felt weird that Dean knew Bela’s security override code, but then again you didn’t drive, must be why you didn’t have it.

“Hey— whoa!” Dean’s voice snapped you out of your sleuthing spiral. “Lookin’ good, ladies.”

You turned and took him in, burgundy suit without a tie, a dark undershirt with the collar popped. Fucker.

“Thank you, likewise.” Bela leaned in and pecked his cheek.

Dean turned to you. “All set?”

You looked around for your phone and grabbed it and the charger off of the ledge towards the sidedoor. “Yeap. You?” you asked Bela.

“Do I need a touch up?” she asked, tilting her head side to side for your honest inspection.

“Nope, lipstick did its job. You’re glorious,” you affirmed.

“Right, well, shall we?” Bela gestured toward the door which Dean pushed open for you and Bela to go first. Past Bela’s MG the big door was still open, showing a pair of black SUVs waiting on the curb. As you stepped out onto the short drive, Lee screamed out a backwindow from the first vehicle, “ladies, ladies, ladies, are we ready to have a good time?!”

You laughed, dancing a little up the incline and pumping your fist to an imaginary beat.

“Trouble’s ready! What about you? You gonna give this one a run for his money?” Lee teased and then took a swig off of his own bottle of champagne.

“You can count on it,” Bela said darkly, eyes only on Dean. Everyone cheered as Dean put his hand on the small of her back and kissed her temple.

From the second SUV Sam emerged smirking and opened the door, waving you all inside. It was time to get the show on the road.

You had met Elizabeth a handful of times and everytime you were floored by her natural hospitality. The cafe was closed for the event, where barely thirty of you were gathered in the vintage-diner- themed all night cafe. She had tables set up with appetizers and a bartender working the soda fountain so you could get dessert with your booze if you wanted.

You wondered if Dean had requested the pie, because there were three cut and displayed on a stand with plastic domes to keep them from drying out.

Oldies played from the antique jukebox and everyone mingled as others arrived. You snapped pictures of the guests and the hand painted mural on the wall showcasing blues artists and faces from classic Hollywood. Everything was gorgeous and it was a little overwhelming seeing everyone dressed to the nines, but you remembered how smashing you looked in your outfit and tucked your shoulders back and held your head high.

Eventually, Benny found you and pulled you in for one of his signature bear hugs.

“It’s been too long, doll. Stickin’ to your namesake or have you been behavin’ ?”

You chuckled, pulling back to look up at his handsome face. “Oh you know, I do what I can. You?”

Benny’s bright eyes searched for something and eased you back onto your heels. “Uh, yeah, good. Itchin’ to get back on the road. Working the movie lots is a real pain, glad it’s only temporary.”

The song changed and Benny hummed along, you caught a glimpse of Sam and Madison talking with Bela while Dean and Lee waited in line for drinks.

“I can’t wait for the tour either, I think we all could stand to get back to basics.”

“Boys causing a ruckus for ya?” Benny asked knowingly.

“Nah, just a feeling. They’ve been working too hard more than anything. So a little balance will probably do the trick.”

“Well, that’s what we’re here for. Time to play hard. Wanna dance?” You looked around and sure enough, Lee and Pamela had started swinging to Johnny B. Goode, while some of the other roadies were shuffling along with their partners in a less flamboyant way.

You flexed your knee and decided you were tipsy enough to risk it and your pride for such an earnest proposal. “Lead the way.”

Benny was surprisingly light on his feet for such a sturdy guy and he helped you get in a good groove, just for the song to switch into Patsy Cline. Benny slowed it down into a stroll to fit the song and you giggled as he told you about what his ex Andrea had done now, after getting out of prison for trying to stab him, of all things.

“You are so better off without her,” you told him, patting his chest as the song came to a close.

Dinner was phenomenal: medallion sized steaks that were still juicy inside with spiral cut fried potatoes, green bean almondine and Waldorf salad. There were four tables set for eight set up in the space that would usually hold a dozen two or four seaters. Elizabeth finally took a seat as you were half way through a plate, but you made sure to let her know how amazing everything was.

“Oh, it’s nothing, now make sure you save room for pie. Got Strawberry Rhubarb, Dutch Apple and Blackberry waitin’,” she insisted like a favorite grandmother and not somebody you could have gone to school with.

Dean groaned deeper as she mentioned each variety, making everyone around your table share a knowing look.

“Easy there, Dean might need to claim a pie as his own, you know how he gets. And I am not one for sloppy seconds,” Benny teased.

The table erupted and Dean didn’t even look like he cared. “If she ends up sending me home with a whole pie, it’s my business what happens to it.”

Tears were burning in your eyes from laughter and the lecherous look Dean shot Benny. He was ridiculous.

You turned to Bela, “good thing Sam isn’t at our table or he’d need to excuse himself.”

“It is getting a bit indecent isn’t it?” Bela said out of the side of her mouth.

“Are you raggin’ on me now, too?!” Dean asked aghast.

“Of course not! Just don’t want your girlfriend to get jealous of a pastry,” you quipped.

A low rumble of an accepted burn answered from around the table.

“Hey now, my girl knows what tickles my taste buds, if you know what I’m saying,” Dean shot back, earning him a fist bump from Lee.

Bela rolled her eyes and shrugged, which only made the laughter louder. The humor dissipated until every noise was roaring like the ocean in your ears. This wasn’t even the worst thing you’d heard out of Dean’s mouth, after years of groupies and life on tour, you thought you’d heard and seen it all. But Bela not denying Dean’s prowess in pussy eating suddenly made you feel impossibly lost.

You literally set up the joke and now you wished for anything to take it back.

“Gentleman, please!” Elizabeth broke into the cacophony. “Or no dessert.”

Which promptly set them all off once again, but they got their act together enough to be gracious when the pie did arrive. You had blackberry and it was thick and rich enough to keep you from opening your big mouth again. Also the vodka cranberry you had switched to was a perfect chaser for the sweetness of the filling.

Two more drinks and three hours later, you were in better spirits and a sequined top hat. The noise makers were harder to come by, Madison and Benny fighting over the last one like toddlers over the last Hot Wheel. Sam had to break it up, which meant Madison won anyway, naturally. But at least Benny could still whistle. The countdown was getting close and everyone was crammed together on the makeshift dance floor under the dimmed lights, talking and swaying in circles. Dancing would have been too much with all the anticipation in the air.

You had your camera at the ready, taking small videos of the crowd and snapping selfies with anyone within reach. The lone television behind the counter hopped between coverage of celebrations in Vegas, Seattle and LA. You did a quick scan of your immediate vicinity for Bela and Dean. Finally, you found them next to Pam and Lee, who were sharing a bottle of bourbon between them, while Bela and Dean were whispering and readying their noisemakers and confetti respectively.

“Oooo, two couples one shot! I want you guys to make it count okay, this is for posterity’s sake!” you ordered, framing the shot just as the countdown began.

10…9…8…

Dean pulled Bela close by the waist. Lee tipped back another swig before almost losing his hat to the movement.

7…6…5…

Bela gazed up at Dean’s face and said something you couldn’t hear over the numbers shouting out of every corner of the party.

4…3…2…

Dean leaned in and started kissing Bela before she could get to one, tipping her back until she almost knocked into Lee, who was hauling Pam up by her haunches before starting to tongue fuck right there in front of your camera. You snapped countless shots, screaming and jumping in place as you worked your magic. Hot people doing hot things who were also clearly into it, was marketing gold.

Eat that Crowley.

Sam swooped you up in a hug and wished you happy new year, then came Charlie, who had arrived after dinner with some girls from her LARPing group. After a few elbows to the side, Dean broke from Bela’s mouth and welcomed you and Charlie into a group hug. The speakers blasted Auld Lang Syne and everyone joined in, arms linked and swaying to the stilted beat.

Elizabeth ensured the party was still going, so she had her people put out fresh appetizers and turned the jukebox back on. There was a run for the bathroom and then for refills and before you knew it it was after one. You had a fresh drink in your hand and a circle had formed around you of women grooving to Mustang Sally.

“Ride Sally, RIDE!” you all bellowed.

Bela had taken off her shoes and was holding them over her head as she swayed her hips. You whipped your head and shoulders back and forth feeling loose and timeless. Charlie was snapping and getting soulful as she sang along, knowing every line of the verses even.

Sam Cooke followed Wilson Pickett on the jukebox, slowing it down and sending your little circle off towards their partners. You didn’t care, you just kept swaying and taking turns singing “yeah— yeah!” and sipping your cocktail.

The crowd was thinning and you knew either brother would be corralling the group for the after party at their place shortly. Thank the label for drivers and security all on the craziest night of the year.

“Hey, you good?” Dean’s voice came out of nowhere and you turned towards his warmth, eyes closed and humming.

“Yeah, is it time–?”

“Let’s get off the dancefloor, I can barely hear you,” Dean took your elbow and brought you over to the edge of the counter where the bartender was wiping glasses dry.

“How are you? Need to puke and rally before we get in the car?” Dean asked firmly, testing your sobriety by your answer and the focus of your eyes.

“I’m fine, why? Is Bela puking?” you looked around for your bestie amongst the remaining partygoers.

“No, look, I just, here,” Dean brushed his knuckles against your cheek to get you to look back at him. Once he had your full attention, he leaned in and licked his lips, watching you as you waited for him to finish his thought. And then he was kissing you, hand on the back of your head and impossible lips massaging yours into complete submission.

You shuttered around a breath and opened your mouth for his tongue. That delicious sensation was enough to reset your brain and you pulled back, gasping.

You couldn’t form words and Dean’s face went from sleepy to wary to disappointed all in the blink of an eye.

“Look— you deserve a midnight kiss, too, you know. I just—- thought you should have one,” Dean said in the space between maybe and almost.

You cleared your throat. “Oh, well, I guess it’s okay then. Thanks?”

You couldn’t look him in the eye, you were too shellshocked, too exposed.

“I’ll start getting everybody towards the exit. See you at the cars,” Dean said lowly, fingertips brushing your hip as he moved through your space.

You finished your drink and got a road beer from the blissfully unaware bartender. It was time to slow down, especially if you were going to be in Dean’s space the rest of the night.

Damn it.

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

@leigh70

@globetrotter28

@winharry

@lastactiontricia

@rockhoochie

Chapter Sixteen: Schleppen

#spotless series #dean/reader #dean/bela #slow burn #rockstar au #fake dating #dean angst #dean's got a potty mouth but you love it

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welcome-to-green-hills · 2 months

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Do you think that we’ll explore the town of Green Hills, Montana in the series and Sonic 3? Like slice of life stuff or more history? I don’t think that there’s a whole lot to the town other than it being described as a “dinky backwater town.”

Hi Honey! ❤️✨

Believe it or not, the town of Green Hills is very fruitful in its foundation! It may not feel like it, but there’s definitely a rich history of when the town was established. (Whew! Now y’all get to see how big of a nerd I am. That’s either a really good thing or a bad thing). I’ll hyperlink all of my sources/claims to specific information so y’all can review it at a later date. Hopefully, this add a bit more detail than what the Sonic Wikis have for the films.

Down below are bullet points and photos of Green Hills, Montana:

Green Hills was founded in the early 1800's by a group of explorers surveying and mapping that state of Montana. The rugged explorers took nearly 30 years in making a complete map of the state and claiming the area as home. Green Hills is located in the middle of the state and known to have fascinating geological features. The town was called "Green Hills" due to the unique shades of green found in its flora. Essentially, the town was founded by chance because it took so long to survey between 1806 to 1835.

One of the town's founders, Morgan McConnell, specifically wanted to build a town in the heart of Montana because of the area's geological feature--checkered patterns. Morgan McConnell was credited for charting nearly a quarter of the state, including the town, and coined as as THE explorer of Montana. His favorite location to sit and work at was the Devil's Pinkie (the ledge that Sonic stands at in the first and second film). Unexpectedly, McConnell fell off of the Devil's Pinkie and died. According to town legend, McConnell's name echoed through the valley ranges for hours after he died. It's unknown if these are still heard in the area today.

Between 1870 and 1883, the town of Green Hills became one of the firsts settled areas along the Northern Pacific Railway. The transcontinental railroad system stretched from the State of Minnesota, the Pacific Northwest, and along the main line opening at the Great Lakes. A town plaque describes Green Hills as a "golden spike" by former USA president Ulysses S. Grant and viewed as an important hub. The town is credited as a supply depot, as well as known for bringing in large immigration populations. The railroad system is still a crucial necessity of the town today.

The first settlers of Green Hills, Montana didn't start making their migration to the area until the 1860s. The settlers were faced with hardships of the land, lack of infrastructure, and brutal winters. Families were known to mingle together in small dwellings and form small communities. Polygamous families were common until Christian morality arrived to the area in later years (Welcome-to-Green-Hills, 2021).

Main Street features the town's first general store, a feed and gardening supply store, and post office.

Green Hills, Montana takes pride in country hospitality. The warmer months have communal events such as hoedowns, harvests and festivals, fishing derbies, farmers markets, and horseback riding events. The business district features Dr. Maddie Wachowski's veterinary clinic, antique shops, a brewery (AKA, the Beer Gardens), a stationary shop, a butcher's shop, and the Mean Bean Coffee Shop (the slogan: "drink mean"). (Tails Channel, 2021).

The Green Hills Community Theater is a town gem. It was established in 1905 and has been known to put on spectacular and successful productions for over 100 years.

The Green Hills Bulletin (the local newspaper) says that they've been the hot spot for a classic car show for the past twenty years, have a "Dog of the Week" section, a local artist guild that does mosaics for the town, recently had a worker's strike on repairing the railroad system in town, and are in the middle of a movement for accessibility laws for disabled residents.

In the first movie's novel, Green Hills is known for its massive Blueberry festivals in the fall. This is an event that's welcome to all of the farmers in the state and neighboring states. Tom is known to actively take part of the festival.

In the 1900's, the town saw an influx of United States veterans occupy the area. It's seen as a "retirement community" to those not actively serving.

The town as a population of nearly 2,000 residents, as implied by the "Welcome to Green Hills" sign at the speed trap.

There's definitely more that the town has to offer in terms of history. When I have the chance, I'll give this post some more attention and add to it. Until then, enjoy some historical facts about our Dinky Backwater Town!

#sonic movie #sonic movie 2 #sonic cinematic universe #mystery anon #off topic

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kendrene · 1 year

Text

Ava rubs sweat out of her eyes with the heel of a hand.

The weather forecast had projected a lovely 25 degrees celsius for the day, but they’ve been walking for what feels like hours, and the breeze from the lake doesn’t reach this deep in the woods. It’s stifling among the trees, and still, and hot as Adriel’s armpit. Ew.

“Where is it that we’re going again?”

“You’ll see.”

Beatrice lobs the reply over one shoulder without breaking step. She’s still somehow keeping to the same ground-eating pace she’d set for them earlier that morning, unfazed by the heat and the gradient of the trail, looking like she could walk on till dusk. Ava wouldn’t put it past her.

“Please…” Her calves are burning, and the muscles in her thighs scream with every step. “Can we not… stop… for a minute?” Forever?

“It’s close by.” Beatrice turns to face her, but continues walking, so that now she’s walking backwards up a forested hill while Ava feels like dying. “I promise.”

“I don’t know if I believe you.” Ava pants, scrambling after her. “You said it wasn’t far at the trailhead, and we’ve been climbing for years.”

“Actually we’ve been on the trail for—” Beatrice tilts her head back, peering at a gap between secular firs and the smear of clear sky there. “— two and a half hours.”

“How do you—” A sudden wind picks up, shaking through the trees, and Ava is blinded by a spear of sunlight. The sun’s position. Of fucking course.

“Do you guys have nun scouts in the OCS or something? Where did you learn that sort of thing?”

“No. And the Girl Scouts. I was… My parents made me join as soon as it was feasible. The names change, but Girl Scouts operate everywhere. They thought it would be an easy way for me to make friends.”

“Made you?” Ava frowns. “That doesn’t sound like fun.”

“It was one of the few things that I liked growing up, actually. It gave me a sense of structure. Direction. Of… family, I guess.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

A strange sort of silence falls between them, awkward and quiet and sad. Ava kicks at a loose rock, sends it tumbling into some bushes, and thinks really hard on the best way to break it.

“Hey, Bea?”

“Yeah?”

“Are we there yet?”

Beatrice groans.

*** Their destination, once they get to it, is very disappointing.

“This is it?” Ava meanders to the center of the clearing, gestures. “I expected, I don’t know, something.”

“Like what?”

Bea sets her rucksack on the ground, and starts pulling out equipment.

“I don’t know! An alpine peak? A waterfall? Treasure?”

“Well, we got knives, protein bars and a water bottle. Sorry but—” Bea upends the rucksack, now empty, and shakes it. “No treasure.”

“We got— Wait, are we going to train?”

“Yes.”

“You made me walk two hours out of town to train.”

“Also yes.”

“But we could have done that by the lake!”

Beatrice shakes her head.

“No. Not for what I have in mind today. Having you run on water is a risk we had to take, but this? We can’t chance some tourist walking by.”

Okay. Bea’s making it sound cool. Ava admits she’s intrigued.

“Alrighty then. What are you doing?”

“Well, we know you can phase through stationary objects. I want you to try and see whether you can focus enough to replicate that through a moving one.” Something catches the light in Bea’s hands and when Ava looks down she’s holding a knife.

“Uhm. You want me to try and phase through one of your knives? Edgy.”

“Ah ah.” A flick of the wrist and the knife vanishes behind Bea’s back. Ava claps. She can’t help herself; it always looks like magic. “No, we’re not using live weapons.”

“Then what?” There’s rocks on the ground Beatrice could throw, although between being hit by a rock and stabbed by a knife, Ava’s not sure what she’d pick.

“We’re gonna use these.” Bea holds up what look like several colored sticks, roughly shaped like actual throwing knives. “They’re rubber, so even if they hit you it shouldn’t hurt too much.”

Shouldn’t? Too much?

“Gee, thanks.”

“Come on,” Bea moves to face her. “If you make it by the end of the day, we can have ice cream for dinner.”

“I’ll eat my way through your tips.” Ava grins, the ache of the hike forgotten at the prospect. “I’m so gonna get it first try. Just watch.”

*** She doesn’t get it first try.

Or second.

Or tenth.

“I think we should call it a day.” Beatrice says, after the piece of neon pink rubber has bounced off of Ava’s chest again. The sun is well past its zenith, and the sky has acquired the burnished hue of afternoon. “We can try again later this week.” Ava pouts. “I’ll still get you ice cream, if you’d like.”

“Really?” Ava grabs the water bottle Bea is holding out to her, and drains about half of it in one gulp. “Even if this was a complete failure?”

“It wasn’t. You did dodge a few of the knives.”

True.

They gather up their stuff quickly, shadows stretching blue across the grass, and Ava is scanning the ground for any stray projectiles when Bea calls out.

“Ava!” She yells from the edge of the clearing. “Look sharp.”

Something suspiciously bright flies towards her, hits her squarely on the nose. Hard.

“Ow!”

“Oh God, oh no.” Bea is by her side in a flash, an arm around her shoulders. “I’m so sorry, I thought if I tried catching you by surprise maybe the Halo…”

“My nose.” Ava has both hands cupped around it, and it’s throbbing something fierce. “I think it’s broken.”

“Let me see.” Bea grabs her chin, ever so gently, and with her free hand pulls hers away. “Yeah,” she admits, brows knitting in worry. “It looks broken.” As though to confirm the prognosis, the Halo burns in Ava’s back, sharp and blistering. In the middle of her face, a bone reknits itself, cartilage snaps into place. Ava winces.

“I’m so so sorry.” Bea has let her go, and is pawing through the rucksack for something to clean her face with. “We’re never doing this again. I should have known, it was such a stupid idea. I don’t know why I thought—” She stammers on, so fast that the words pile on top of one another, and Ava has a hard time keeping up.

Ava’s hand bears down on both of Beatrice’s, stilling them. She grins at her through the blood.

“It’s okay.” She scrunches her nose, experimentally. “I’m okay, see? No harm done.”

“But—”

“No buts. It wasn’t a stupid idea. We will take another stab at it, just like you said.”

“Ava.” Beatrice says her name pointedly, voice stuck between fond and exasperated.

“What? That was a really good pun. My sense of humor—”

“—is a cut below the rest.”

“Ouch.” Ava presses a hand to her heart, faux dramatic. “That hurts more than the broken nose.”

“Doubt it.”

Neither of them can stop smiling on the way home.

#warrior nun #avatrice #dren writes #a lil drama with fake knives

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