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neverwasreddie · 2 years

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Bev is the first one to say anything about it, one night as she and Ben are leaving Richie’s house:

“Did you notice how fucking cold his house was tonight?”

Ben chuckles, draping an arm around Bev and running his other hand over shoulder as if to warm her. “Richie always complains about being cold. That must be an Eddie thing.”

“Can you imagine the thermostat wars they probably have?” She snorts. “Oh, God. I know they’re best friends, but it can’t be easy having a roommate in your forties like this.”

It comes up again when Mike and Bill, Bev and Ben are video chatting with Stan ahead of his visit to Los Angeles.

“Don’t forget to pack a sweater,” Mike jokes, while Bill snorts a laugh into his shoulder.

Stan’s frown deepens as Bev solemnly nods in agreement. “What, is LA in a cold front I didn’t hear about, or something?” he asks.

“Richie keeps his house like a fucking refrigerator now that Eddie’s living there,” Bill explains, lifting his head off of Mike’s arm to arch an eyebrow at the camera.

“It’s like an ice skating rink!” Bev confirms. “My money is on this being one of the concessions Richie makes to stay alive. He lets Eddie pick the house temperature, and Eddie doesn’t murder him for not sorting the laundry by color.”

“It’s like college living, but with old people problems,” Mike jokes.

Ben shakes his head gently while the others laugh. “Stan, you’re the first one to get the inside view of what they’re like as roommates. None of us have ever stayed over at their place, so you gotta be the one to report back to us.”

“Yeah,” Bill adds, “like, how long do they fight in the morning about almond milk versus cream and sugar in their coffee?”

Stan smirks as the other Losers continue their howling laughter and speculation through the screens. “I’ll keep you folks updated,” he responds.

It turns out Richie does keep his house pretty cold, but he compensates by wearing a hoodie even though LA is blazing outside. Stan adores the two of them so much that he can’t be too bothered by the temperature; Richie and Eddie bicker and play-fight and joke so much that Stan feels like a kid again, and he just soaks up every second of their first day together. At the end of the night, his heart is full as they all say good night, Richie heading off to his bedroom, Eddie to the guest room he’d claimed as his own, and Stan to the final remaining guest room.

(If he’d spent all night catching the glimmer in Richie’s eye whenever he looked at Eddie, if he noticed how Richie wore the same expression around Eddie that he’d worn as a lovesick twelve year old, that was Stan’s business to keep to himself.)

The next morning, when Stan wakes up, he sees that the door to Eddie’s room is open, the bed neatly made and Eddie himself gone.

If Eddie and I are up, Trashmouth can get up now, too, he thinks to himself, listening for just a moment outside Richie’s door for any incriminating jerk-off noises before he quietly steps inside.

Immediately Stan freezes, everything clicking into place. Richie is bundled up in his hoodie under a thick comforter and luxurious-looking throw blanket. One arm grips the pillow, smushing it to his face, which is relaxed and vulnerable-looking. He snores softly, just quiet snuffling noises, burrowed into the blanket like a sleeping child.

Behind him, Eddie is dressed in an equally cozy-looking sweater, his face pressed to Richie’s back. He’s spooning Richie, holding onto him so tightly, one hand pressed to the center of Richie’s chest like he wants to keep watch over Richie’s heart for safekeeping.

Stan melts a little, wondering why they’re still keeping it a secret from their friends but also feeling an immense sense of peace wash over him, like finally, like this feels right, like you fucking deserve this, Trashmouth.

From the bed, Stan hears a sleep-scratchy “Don’t tell the others yet” from Eddie, whose arms squeeze Richie tighter as the movement of the blankets suggests he’s looping a leg over top of Richie’s.

Octopus, Stan thinks fondly, throwing a little salute toward Eddie though he knows he can’t see him with his eyes closed. He backs out of the room and shuts the door carefully, heading downstairs to fetch some coffee and start his day.

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #it chapter 2 #reddie fic #reddie headcanon

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sirianasims · 2 months

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Chapter 42

Mind The Gap

“Hailey, can you start on the cookies?”

“Sure, mom.”

My mother’s movements were precise and efficient as she and Hailey moved around the kitchen like choreographed dancers, measuring, stirring, and chopping.

“Mom, the table is done. Anything else I can do?”

She shook her head. “No thanks, sweetie, I think Hailey and I can take it from here.” My mother knew better than to let me cook anything more advanced than cup noodles.

Hailey turned to me.

“Actually, could you go check on Grayson? It sounds like he’s still awake.”

I went to the living room and picked up my wiggly nephew. He cooed happily when he saw me.

“Hi, Gray-Gray! Look, it’s your favourite aunt! At least until your grandpa brings aunt Ivy back from the airport.”

The living room was littered with toys and baby stuff. Hailey and her husband Mark lived just around the corner, and spent almost as much time here as they did at their own house.

On the coffee table, yet another gossip magazine speculated wildly about Paul Romeo’s new fling. The picture of us outside his hotel had been everywhere for the past two weeks, and it had almost stopped bothering me every time I saw it. The writings still hurt, though.

“You should be glad you can’t read, Gray-Gray. You’re already busy eating and pooping and sleeping, you don’t need to also worry about silly people calling you a gold-digger or saying that you’re just a child playing dress-up.”

He giggled and blew a spit bubble, and I felt a surge of affection for him.

“I know, right? Some of them even say nasty things about your uncle Paul too. Or, well – he’s not really your uncle, but maybe some day…”

I paused. I hadn’t really spent much time thinking about what ‘some day’ would look like. Would Paul ever want to get married? Have kids? Most people his age had a family by now. What if he wanted kids soon? We never talked about it.

Grayson sleepily tried to grab a tiny fistful of my hair. I moved it out of reach and began rocking him again.

“You’re a good listener, Gray-Gray,” I muttered softly. “And very cute. But you need to sleep so you won’t be cranky during dinner.”

I rocked him for a while. Outside, the powdery snowflakes danced in the wind while I listened to his breathing, deep and steady. When I was sure he was asleep, I put him in his crib and flopped down on the couch to check my phone. No new texts.

I ignored the angry red dots telling me I had 99+ notifications on most of my social media. At least they didn’t have my phone number. My friends and family knew to only text or call me directly by now.

My phone vibrated in my hand, and I checked it eagerly. Marten wished me a happy Winterfest.

I reacted to his last message with a heart and put the phone down. I liked Marten, we sometimes played games online when he wasn’t too busy with his studies. I was glad that he still wanted to be my friend even though he probably had something else in mind when he asked for my number, but it was Paul I really wanted to hear from.

Grayson was still sleeping peacefully, and I could hear my mother and Hailey talking and laughing, their voices mixing with the clatter of pots and pans coming from the kitchen. The delicious smells from the food and the ever-present scent of pine enveloped me and I was almost drifting off when my phone vibrated again.

This time it was Paul, saying he’d be calling in ten minutes or so.

I leapt up from the couch to put on something warmer. I wasn’t really supposed to go outside alone, but I didn’t feel like talking to him around my family, and I doubted any paparazzi would be spending Winterfest freezing their butts off in case I left the house.

beginning / previous / next

#duchellilegacy #duchellichapters #duchelligen5 #julia duchelli #freya duchelli #hailey duchelli #marten rouse

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rewatching-sam-and-dean · 5 months

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The Schrödinger's SPN Revival

So, recently there’s been a lot of talk on here and twitter because a couple articles have been published citing Jared and Jensen (or just Jensen in one POS article) mentioning discussing possibilities for a revival. Does this make it any more likely to happen or closer to being realized? I don’t know, but the guys have been mentioning it off and on for years already, so I’m not sure it’s any more likely now than it ever was. Also, with networks and the whole industry in seeming disarray, even if J2 want to get a revival going, I’m not sure it will happen.

But, let’s speculate anyway. Shall we?

(I CANOT get the link to work for some reason!!)

My thoughts on this, under the cut.

I’m no authority on anything in the TV industry, but I have watched our little show a lot, so I have thoughts. Let’s take look at each person on this poll.

Kripke - Obviously, he understands Sam and Dean. He created them after all. But, would I trust him with the revival? Well, judging by The Boys, he seems more focused on shock value than tight storytelling these days, so I’m not sure I would want to see an SPN on a streamer that he ran. It might become a case of all fireworks and little to no heart. Also, if he had ended the series in Season 5, both Sam and Dean would have been trapped in the cage forever. Not exactly a happy ending. Still, is he capable of manning a revival snd doing a decent job? Yes. Would I totally trust him with it? Maybe. Maybe not. Do I think he even has time to do it? Not really.

Jensen - Come on, people! If you want him to reprise his role as Dean, then he isn’t going to be the showrunner. Also, he’s an actor, not a writer, so it’s not even in his wheelhouse. So, no. This wouldn’t be a good idea. And after The Winchesters, I think it’s extremely unlikely that he’d be put at the helm in this way. The only upside to Jensen being a show runner? We know damn well Destiel would be ignored as vigorously as it deserves.

Robbie Thompson - Exhibit One: The Winchesters. So, no. Also, while he has written some episodes that I like of SPN, he was always trying to make the show something it wasn’t, whether it was Fairytale time with Charlie or trying to shoehorn romance into a platonic brother love story, he’s shown that he shouldn’t be trusted with the OG show in a position of power.

Sera Gamble - Season 6 while having some absolute bangers, was also a bit of a mess in some ways. And Season 7 was more so. How much of this was due to Gamble hersel and how much was due to Singer tugging at the reins, I don’t know. She is a proven showrunner, so I believe she could do it. She actually understands and enjoys Sam, so that would be a huge relief for those of us who actually care about Sam and want to see him get his due on screen. Also, she has never written Dean badly from my observations, despite certain past claims by “some people” on women not writing male dialogue well. In a lot of ways, I think she could be a good choice. But, would she be interested even? I have no clue.

Andrew Dabb - NEXT!!

Jeremy Carver - For reasons relating to Season 11, I would like to see him helm a revival. He can clearly follow through with a connected and coherent arc. However, for reasons relating to Season 8, where he had characters do a few hugely out of character things for the story’s sake? No. For Season 10 snd the bore thst it was for me personally (though that potentially had something to do with pressure that came from Singer)? No. All in all. I think he’d be capable of ruining a revival, but something tells me he isn’t particularly interested and they guys may not be that ready to chose him, either (purely just my gut).

Robert Singer - No. I believe he interfered with Gamble and Carver’s plans; I just don’t know to what extent. And worst of all, he did nothing to help steer Dabb away from the mess that was much of Seasons 12 to 15. Also, he’d probably bring Buck-Lemming with him. And can I just say a big, “Fuck no,” to that.

Again, all of this is just me rambling. I have no real idea how likely any of them would be to come back for a revival. And I also don’t know how much J2 would want any of them to run a revival, or whether they’d want to just get someone new who might be more likely to listen to their ideas. I don’t even know if J2 would have an easy time agreeing on who would make a good show runner from that list because I think they might not even agree on who they considered to be better writers, or be better candidates to showrunner. For example, I think Jared might be more enthusiastic about Gamble than Jensen would. And Jensen would probably welcome Singer more than Jared would. Again, I don’t know any of this for certain, but it just my impression based off of things they’ve said over the years.

If a revival happens what do I want?

First, it sounds to me like if there is one, J2 want to be a big part of it with Sam and Dean as central focus. This is what I would want. I watched the show for them. I stuck it out through the rough seasons for them. The only way I would watch a revival was if it heavily featured both Sam and Dean. Second, I think I would enjoy if they did a revival during the years (according to J2) between Episodes 19 snd 20. I would like this because it would make the likelihood of angel or demon interference minimal. And this would be the more likely scenario for us to get a more old-school creature hunting revival. We could still see Jody and co for those who care about that. There would be no need for Cas or Jack to show up, which I would prefer. Yet, it would be easy enough for them to make a brief appearance if J2 wanted to pander in that way. Also, I’m so very sick of Angel BS, and this seems like the best way to avoid it. Third, I could be interested in a bit of a prequel with John and the boys, if they could find a way to include J2 without making it convoluted and pointless. Finally, if they come back from heaven for some reason, I think it would be hard for the revival to have much in the way of stakes. And I really wouldn’t want a huge dose of Cas, which we’d potentially have in that case.

Anyway, here are my thoughts on the potential revival, thoughts thst no one asked for admittedly. Lol.

If anyone read this far, what are your thoughts on a revival. If it happens, who should run it and what would you want to see happen?

#supernatural #SPN Revival Speculation #my thoughts #if they have one what should it be about?#Revival talk #castiel critical #anti destiel #*edited for so so many typos*

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holyfruitsnax · 2 years

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Hidden In Plain Sight

Warnings: Cursing, Violence, Guns, Angst-ish?, Fluff, Smut (Later Chapters), Possible bad writing? Def not proofread.

Pairing: Mob!Tom Holland x Detective!Reader

Summary: The Hollands have built their empire for years and now a young detective wants to take them down. In a world where Tom figured it would be kill or be killed, He’ll soon find that maybe, just maybe...She can be convinced.

Y/N: Your Name Y/L/N: Your Last Name

The sound of your gun clinking in its holster echoed throughout the room as your eyes scanned for any clues they could find. “Man, are we sure this is the right place? I mean... I trust your judgement y/l/n but...this place looks like it’s been abandoned for a while.” Hugh furrowed his brows shining his flashlight while gesturing to the ragged furniture and family photos seeming to be left behind. “That’s what they want us to think Greene.” You sighed giving your partner a glance before shining your light in another direction. “Called the landlord. This place was owned by a Mrs. Gertrude Lightwood.” you couldn’t help the concerned look on your face. “Sure, most of this is hers...but she’s been in a nursing home for years. Do you honestly think this is her mess?” you kicked a few old beer bottles around for emphasis. Hugh’s head dropped shaking a little, “No...No I suppose not...” His British accent thick with the same concern shown on your own face.

“You think it’s them?” Hugh leaned against the kitchen countertop, asking a question he knew the answer to.

“I know it is.”

You’d only been a detective for a short amount of time, but you’d surely proven yourself with a knack for research. At the ripe age of 20, you’d solved your first case just about all on your own. The department paired you up with Hugh since the beginning of your career, now the slightly portly old man seemed like the only family you had since moving to London. The current case? Thought to be a band of misfit teens, turned out to be a link to one of the largest mafia’s London has to offer. The Hollands, their power is deep seeded in SouthWest London. No one dared to touch a part of their case, that is until now. Hugh figured you’d gone mad when you offered to take them head on, but he’d help none the less.

“Well...Let’s get going before the sun comes up. No telling if or when they’ll come back.” The white haired man clapped a large hand upon your shoulder. “I could go for Greggs right about now.” He smiled wide making you smile in return. The two of you walked out of the old townhouse and heading into the car. “I think they know we’re onto them.” you stated while bucking up. Hugh nodded “Probably. You don’t keep up with something like this for so long if you aren’t good at hiding it. No one even knows what these people look like, only guesses.” He pointed out and took off towards their favorite breakfast place. “Hey..That’s not bad..” you smirked jotting down something on your little notepad using a cute pen with a duck at the top Hugh had gotten you a year ago. “What?” Hugh’s eyes darted over confused “Oh don’t start with this shi-”

“I’m just saying!” you laughed, pleased with his reaction. “What if they’re not hidden...or better yet.” you winked. “Hidden in plain sight?”

“You’re due for the looney bin any day now y/n!” Hugh laughed parking in front of Greggs, you only chuckled and shrugged back. The little breakfast shop was full, but it is eight am on a Wednesday morning. your detective side was still in high gear, making sure to memorize every face you could since the stake out house hadn’t been very far away. Over at a table buried away in a corner sat a group of young men. A tall blonde with striking blue eyes, a shorter curly red head and a grumpy looking brunette. What a group. Hugh Ordered for you both, opting to chat with the cook rather than join your speculation. you took a seat at a table not too far but not too close to the group of men, scrolling through your phone to seem as though you were minding her business. That is until you locked eyes with a chestnut brown pair.

“Psst!” a sharp kick to the shin pulled Tom from fiddling with the many golden rings adorning his fingers. “Ow! That hurt asshole.” Tom hissed reaching down to rub where Harry had abused him. “Cops.” Haz stated quietly as to not draw attention their way, which was always a difficult feat seeing that Tom ultimately looked like a mob boss. “We’re fine, just keep your cool. Try not to be an idiot and they’ll move along.” Tom hummed clasping his hands together so he could rest his chin atop his bruised knuckles. His eyes found you sat at a table playing on your phone, He couldn’t quite tell your age but, he knew you were young, around his age maybe? He didn’t recognize you though. Tom couldn’t help but swoon at the way your hair framed your tired face perfectly, eyes holding a bit of dark color beneath them. He must’ve been staring too long, seeing that your eyes flicked up just in time to meet his own. Boy was Tom enthralled, but the interaction was short lived as his brother and best friend tugged him out of the shop.

“What was that about?” Hugh muffled out through a bite of his breakfast sandwich. “I....I don’t know..” you for once felt stuck so, you opted to eat your breakfast instead of talking. “Those boys sure did look flashy.” Hugh pointed over towards the table the group had previously been sat. You nodded giving a content hum “Maybe, but we can’t just jump to conclusions. Maybe they’re just rich.” Hugh snorted a little at your sudden halt on the whole ‘It could be anyone’ idea. “Why don’t we rest up, you give me a call if you catch anything new and I’ll do the same? Sound good?” He slapped his cap back atop his head crumpling up a food wrapper. “Good to me.” you confirmed standing up from your seat to say goodbye to Hugh before walking the short distance back to your apartment.

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The day had gone by and shifted London into darkness, but lights and music still boomed on for the drinkers, dancers, and all of the above to enjoy. Tom would be one of them if he wasn’t getting his ass chewed out. “You mean to tell me after being told police were on their way to your hideout, you chose to go eat breakfast in the middle of fucking town?!” Dom yelled down at the three boys. “Yeah well we were hungr- I’m sorry.” Harry’s head hung in shame, Haz stood tall and calm whilst Tom’s face begin to turn red. “You’re the one who can’t handle his own fucking dirty work! It’s your guy we’re after, why didn’t you go and sit in an old run down house that smelled like mothballs for hours to watch some guy’s house? Oh RIGHT because you’re the boss of course!” He laughed deep in his chest. The rest of the family backed away but kept watching, Dom and Tom are like dynamite together it just takes one to be the match that strikes the others fuse.

“Correct! I am the boss, so you will listen to me or you’ll suffer just the same as that man will when I get my hands on him.” Dom growled, gripping Tom by his white button up. “I can’t believe you’re the one I’m passing this shit down to..” He puffed letting Tom go due to Nikki’s pleas. Tom’s courage faltered at his father’s insult, it felt like a low blow. “Yeah...Whatever..” He huffed back fixing his jacket. Dom lit a cigar sitting next to his wife waiting for the explosion. “Now Tom, why don’t you take off your shoes and have a seat. You know your father didn’t mean that- He just gets that way.” She smiled patting the couch. Tom felt a heavy, sickly, almost guilty heat rise to his chest. He’d have to deal with that feeling the only way he knew how, to cover it up with something else. “You know what. I’m sick of being treated second hand by him, I’m sure everyone else does too!“ He seethed beginning to push insults towards Dom. Rage was like an illness to Tom, so easy to fall back to. Before Dom could shout anything back Tom grabbed the nearest lamp and tossed it against the wall with a loud crash. “I’m- I’M FUCKING GETTING OUT OF HERE, FUCK THIS HOUSE, AND FUCK YOU DOM” Tom shouted. He didn’t hear footsteps following him, so he didn’t look back.

The thumping of his heart in his ears had been replaced by music with thick bass. Making his way into his family’s bar Tom found a table with ease. “Woahhhh...Rough night?” Skips, the main bar tender around the places laughed only to shut down the second he met Tom’s killer gaze. “I’ll just...Leave this here.” Skips practically yelped setting down a bottle of whiskey while he ran off to get a glass and ice. Tom popped the top off the bottle of expensive whiskey downing a few chugs before slamming it down on the table again. His outburst was starting to become hard not to notice but if you wanted to keep your eyes, you’d act like you didn’t even if you did.

That is unless that someone is you. You’d found your way into the bar confident there would be evidence of anything from the Holland in there, it is their side of town after all. Deciding to blend in a bit and to purely have some fun you joined in on the dance floor scooting through the crowd trying to get to the bar. Suddenly a large man in a suit stood before you. “Uh..excuse me if I could just slip-” “My friend asked for you at his table.” The large man oddly enough was the sweetest person you’d met all night. “Uhm..” You turned your head in the direction the man pointed in and froze. The guy from Greggs this morning. “Thank you!” you smiled calmly, making your way over to the brunette. Your eyes couldn’t help but drop as he leaned forward and unbuttoned his shirt enough to expose his toned chest while sending you a smirk.

“Hello Darling! I thought I recognized you~” Tom teased, obviously a bit buzzed from chugging whiskey. “Yeah, breakfast this morning..um. I didn’t catch your name however-” “Tom.” He spoke immediately taking two glasses pouring whiskey for them both and slid a coke your way. “Nice to meet you Tom, I’m not much of a drinker.” You cleared your throat a little. “Well for tonight, maybe you should?” He nodded pushing your glass closer towards you. Why the hell not? “Okay, Tom. What exactly..” “Your name Darling.” He smiled sipping at his own drink. “Y/n.” You swirled your cup around a little before drinking half of it to ease your nerves. Why was this guy messing with your nerves? “Pretty~” Tom’s voice deepened and his eyes darked while raking over your figure. You’d chosen a tight red dress that showed just enough cleavage for most, but not enough for Tom

Tom watched as you finished your first drink and drank a little coke while he poured you both another. Thirty minutes became an hour, an hour became two and before you knew it you and Tom were on the dancefloor together. His firm hands gripped tightly at your hips keeping you close in the dancing crowd as the two of you grinded together. “You’re fun!” You drunkenly laughed wrapping your arms around Tom’s neck. “That’s what I like to hear Darling!” He grinned dipping his head down so his nose brushed yours. Your mouth fell open slightly and everything seemed to slow down. What were you doing. “There is of course...” Tom slid a hand up your body grabbing your chin with his thumb and index finger, the cooling effect of his rings against your warm skin made you shiver. “Something else I’d love to hear you say as well.” He tisked leading you towards the back of the bar. “And what’s that?” You raise a brow, tilting your head making Tom pull his bottom lip between his teeth. The next thing you knew you were in a private area and Tom pulled two red curtains shut before turning back to face you. “Daddy.”

#tom holland #mob!tom x reader #mob!tom holland #Angst #Detective #fem reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #mob!tom #tom holland fanfiction

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candrawithwip · 1 year

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Just going to talk a bit about season 4 of LMK after having sat down and watched it officially. S4 SPOILERS below “READ MORE”

Well to start off with I have no idea why people are so mad at Wukong. He’s irresponsible but he’s trying to grow and improve but it seems to be one thing after the next for him and MK. Sure we don’t know much about what happened with the Jade Emperor but it’s obvious that something happened there. I mean even if his betrayal was intentional, I seriously doubt that his approach to the situation would have been to kill Macaque, annihilate Camel Ridge, and trap his sworn brothers in the memory scroll without explaining anything whatsoever.

He doesn’t communicate well but even when fighting Nezha he was still dropping hints that whatever he needed the Samadhi fire for was no small thing. I think they were trying to tell us something by having his ink self taunt him with the circlet after mentioning he’s not one to allow himself to be controlled. It was also so painful to know that he was fighting to get back to MK and as soon as he found him he lost him again. What more is he supposed to do? He’s basically a young adult forever and he needs emotional support and most of his friends are dead... the man has a literal shame temple and he presumably named it that himself like come on.

I also still stand by what I said in another post my side blog; I don’t think this is the end for Sun Wukong. If their intention was to remove him from the plot forever the broken scroll wouldn’t have been such an item of interest and the fact that MK was able to recover it wouldn’t have brought much fanfare. The broken scroll pieces and Sun Wukong by extension are heavily implied to be important for what will happen going forward. I’m also not sure if MK could handle the reality that he’d never see Wukong again after the way that things happened. I think this was the “beating MK down” season so hopefully what comes next is the “building MK up” season/special/whatever.

With that out of the way there is obviously some stuff happening behind the scenes and I think the Camel Ridge group has done precisely what was expected of them. Someone is extremely interested in systematically tearing down the foundations of the current world order, but their end goal is still a mystery. If their true goal was to bring in a new era then where were they during all of this? I feel like their real objective might have been to destabilize the celestial realm and if that was the case then they absolutely succeeded.

The celestial armies have fallen, and all other major players aside from MK and his allies, Macaque, and Nezha (through pure happenstance) have been removed from the picture; now there’s a massive power vacuum and although the Camel Ridge group is currently standing victorious, their allies are few and their new domain is in shambles. Someone could take advantage of that instability in any number of different ways.

Honestly I think the biggest candidates are Erlang Shen based on a previous speculation, or potentially Kui Mulang since his status is unknown and he has beef with the the Celestial Realm and Sun Wukong. That might be a stretch but I felt like I would throw that on the table and see what people make of it.

If I had to make a prediction about what happens next I think since the scroll is basically contained memory, repairing the memories within it are probably the key to repairing the scroll itself. I think either Macaque or MK (or both - one for each half) will have to go into the scroll and in doing so will learn more about Wukong and his reasoning. I think they’ll come out of the situation knowing how they want to move forward in any case.

Whatever happens they are 100% building up to a “pull the rug out from under both sides feet” sort of reveal and Macaque has 2000 IQ for concealing his presence and dropping off the face of the earth because people be schemein’ and I do not like it.

#lmk #lmk spoilers #lmk season 4 spoilers #lego monkie kid #lego monkie kid spoilers #lego monkie kid season 4 #lego monkie kid season 4 spoilers

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maxverstepponme · 1 year

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this is a really good theory like absolutely plausible. Also maybe Max doesn't want any distractions at the moment we are heading into a busy schedule. After miami theri is only a week of rest, then we have a triple header // original anon here, so wanted to add more of why I think this since we’re all crazy together :))

-the weird hotel getaway, seemed like she was there alone/with P but wanted people to think she was there with him. Him iracing all weekend.

-her selling a lot of her wardrobe, a jelly fanpage said there’s close to 100 pieces up for sale. Why the need for money?? Or getting rid of clothes causing you moving?? An anon earlier mentioned this.

-him flying to Amsterdam to do PR. Kelly no longer in Monaco (in NY) but acting like she is. Posts about getting ready for her trip. Someone on here confirms she’s in Ny before she posts.

-shows she’s in NY with P, has loads of P’s shoes there definitely more than necessary.

-daily mail articles come out (proving she’s been there longer) uses her as max verstappens gf in headline cause that’s the only way she’s relevant. But still mentions her name, trynna get her name out there (I would say this has been happening since Miami this year and Bahrain solidified that)

-max a lot happier apparently in the paddock but seemed off his game. Wasn’t his best weekend. Commentators speculated something was happening in his private life, maybe rumours in the paddock led to that comment.

-Kelly posts a picture of P on some guys shoulders, people wonder who he is. Did she do it for attention??

-Victoria unfollows her and then refollowers.

-max flies back to Monaco, not NY or even Miami.

-addressed the pram worries but not the seatbelt or mystery guy ones.

- stories posted today she’s wearing those ugly pendant charms but only the K&P.

-someone on Twitter spreads the rumour they’ve broken up, people take it seriously. Becomes pretty big. His team don’t deny them (although his team don’t deny rumours unless it’s pregnancy). Neither does Kelly.

-Sophie after weeks now comments to maybe calm people down, or lead people of the trail until they can announce it. Kelly hasn’t commented on Victorias post or vice versa.

-max hasn’t liked her last 2 posts, maybe he told his pr and they’ve locked her out the account or changed the password.

- won’t announce it until it’s not a race week so they’d be a cool-down period of it and he wouldn’t have to answer questions about it. Max on race week is only focused on the race, think he’d tell his pr to wait until not a race week.

-Kelly’s using the last of his name, hence the weird shoot looking rushed maybe wasn’t originally planned for the trip or something.

-promised Yasmin Miami gp tickets (don’t see how else she’s going) and probably organised something with pageboyprojects for Kelly and Yasmin. A pr shoot, clubbing night of them etc.

-Kelly’s got her little meet and greet 🙄 in Miami that’s been planned for months probably so couldn’t cancel.

-I think they’d have to announce a break up whether on ig or through a trusted tabloid, cause of how public it it (thanks to Kelly 🙄). But would wanna do it not on a race week or when Kelly’s promised someone tickets and got a meet and greet in Miami. They’d be more speculation if she was on Miami but not the gp

Again we’ll see what happens this week and thank you all for letting me write my theories :))

No worries ❤️ would you like for me to tag them?

#theories anon

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razieltwelve · 1 year

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Considering Murder (Final Rose AU)

Weiss took another sip of the brandy. It had a delightful peach flavour, and she should probably have stopped drinking it a glass or two ago.

“If I didn’t know any better,” Weiss drawled. “I’d say you were trying to get me drunk, Yang.”

The blonde took a sip of her own brandy and favoured Weiss with a toothy smile. “That’s because I am.”

Weiss raised one eyebrow, or at least, she thought she did. Judging from the amused snicker from Blake and the mirth in Yang’s gaze, her expression was likely less than imposing. “Are you planning on taking advantage of me?”

“Nope. I’ve got Elsa and Averia for that sort of thing.” The words were met with another snicker from Blake. The Faunus had drunk at least as much as Weiss, but she wasn’t handling it quite so well. Hah! Weiss might be tiny, but she’d done more than her fair share of drinking. “You just looked as though you could use a good drink.”

Weiss huffed. “Fuck, yes, I could use a good drink.” She was normally more on guard around other people, but this was her team. They had literally killed for each other. If she couldn’t trust them, then what was the point of even being here? “My father called the other day, you know. He’s been looking for people to marry me off to.”

“Well, shit,” Yang said. “Do we need to get rid of him?”

Weiss giggled. “Yang...”

“If you want,” Blake offered. “I know some people who could do it.” The Faunus patted Weiss’s leg. “They’d make it look like an accident.”

The best - and worst part - was that Blake was completely serious. It was a far cry from the initial wariness they’d felt toward each other. “While I appreciate the offer, I don’t think it’s necessary.”

“Yet,” Yang said. “It’s not necessary yet.”

Weiss giggled. Her glass was empty, so she poured herself more brandy. Dust, it was good. She’d have to ask Yang where she’d gotten it from because it hadn't come in a labelled bottle. “I should be worried that we’re discussing my father’s murder. Instead, I just feel... liberated.”

“Murder tends to have that effect,” Yang replied sagely. “Not that I would know.”

“...” Blake eyed Yang speculatively. “You’re not nearly subtle enough. Averia?”

“Diana,” Yang replied. “Trust me. If you ever need to get away with murder, ask her.”

“Oh, I have to hear more,” Weiss said. “And where did you get this brandy?”

“We have a neighbour back home,” Yang replied. “He owns some orchards. He grows Sally’s favourite mangoes, as well as a bunch of other stuff. He makes booze in his spare time. Peach brandy is something he’s been working on for a while. He sent some to my Uncle Qrow, and my uncle passed on a few bottles.”

“Your uncle is a scholar and a gentleman.” Weiss raised her glass. “And you can tell him I said that.”

“I think he’d find that hilarious.”

“Back to the murder,” Blake said. “What happened?”

Yang flopped back onto the floor. Honestly, sitting in a circle and drinking booze was hardly the height of maturity, but Weiss found that she rather liked it. Sally padded over, and the true salamander flopped across Yang’s belly. Weiss giggled again and reached over to scratch Sally’s scales. Intimidating appearance aside, Sally was a sweetheart.

“It was a mission back when I was at Signal. Diana and I went together. She’s young, you know, but she’s got Ragnarok. Hell, even without it, I’d trust Diana to kick just about anyone’s ass. Anyway, we get there, and it turns into a complete shit show. The guy who posted the mission had lied about just about everything. The settlement came under attack almost immediately, and he’d done all sorts of evil shit. I’m talking about embezzling funding from the militia, abusing his authority, all that kind of crap.”

Weiss’s nose wrinkled. “Murder is sounding more justified by the moment.”

Blake’s lips curved up into a cold, cold smile. “Back home, someone like that would get a knife between the ribs before being kicked off the walls to feed the Grimm.”

“Anyway,” Yang sat up and lifted Sally into her lap. “We kill all the Grimm and sort everything out, and it occurs to me that if we leave, this guy is just going to pull the same crap. Even worse, he was well connected. Getting him to quit or removing him wouldn’t be easy.”

“So what did you do?” Weiss asked.

Yang shrugged. “Punched a hole in him.”

“...” Blake shook her head. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Hey, he was an asshole. More to the point, we found out how he’d gotten the position in the first place.”

“Oh?”

“Killed his predecessor. We even got Aunt Yeul to confirm it.” Yang glared. “I would have done worse, but it just made me so mad. We’re fighting Grimm, for fuck’s sake. We’re not supposed to be stabbing each other in the back.” She sighed and drank some more brandy. “Anyway, Diana finds me, and she just looks at me.”

“And then?”

“And then she shifts her arm into a claw, the kind a Beowolf has... and she rips him to bits. Next thing I know, she’s shouting for people to come over... and then she kind of, I don’t know, pukes up this Beowolf. She must have eaten it earlier or something. When everybody gets there, she just shakes her head and tells everyone what happened. He and I were on patrol when we got ambushed by Grimm. He got caught off guard, and I killed the Grimm. You should have seen her. Diana sold that lie like it was nothing but the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Shit. I would’ve thought she was telling the truth myself if I didn’t know better.”

“What happened next?”

“They chalked it up to a bit of good luck. Everybody wanted him gone, and they figured the Grimm just did us all a favour. Later, Diana slapped me over the back of the head and told me to speak to her the next time I wanted to commit murder.”

“Damn.” Blake nodded respectfully. “And she didn’t think any less of you?”

“Nah. It turns out she was already planning to sabotage his stove, so it would explode. If anything, she was more annoyed that she didn’t get to pull off her plan than anything else.”

Weiss sighed. “The frontier is rough, isn’t it?”

“You bet it is. You see the best and worst sort of people out there. My mother’s tribe earned their reputation out there. Shit. There’s still places where the Branwen name has people running for their lives or running over with gifts.” Yang glanced over to Ruby’s bed. Their team leader was out on a ‘special mission’ with Diana, which was a polite way of saying the two of them were going to stuff their faces down at Port Beacon’s newest bakery. “Ruby is going to be pissed when she realises we’ve been drinking without her.”

“It’s probably for the best,” Weiss replied. “Your sister can’t hold her liquor at all.”

Yang laughed. “She’s a damn light weight. It’s why she knows to never drink unless she’s around friends and family.” Her expression sobered. “Besides, she knows there are things she’s not quite ready to talk about yet. She’s younger than all of us.”

“She’s older than Diana,” Blake pointed out.

“It’s not just about age,” Yang replied. “Ruby is... sweet. She thinks the best of people, and she hasn’t seen all the shit I have.” Yang ran one hand over her face. “Fuck. I hope she never does either. It’s... yeah. You know, my Aunt Lightning will be taking Ruby on some missions soon, try to get Ruby up to speed on that... that side of hunter life. But for the time being...”

“She’s the optimist,” Blake said quietly. “And I hope she never changes.”

“Yeah.” Yang smiled. “That’s right.”

“I’m glad someone on our team can be an optimist,” Weiss said. “Dust knows I’m not an optimist.”

“Like I said,” Blake murmured. “If you ever need your father murdered... ask me, not Yang.”

“Yes, well, if my father suddenly turns up with a hole punched through his chest, I know who’s to blame.”

“Hey!” Yang huffed in mock anger. “I’ve improved. I’d totally stage an accident or something.”

#final rose #fanfiction #weiss schnee #yang xiao long #blake belladonna

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alister312 · 2 years

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what's your headcanon as to what happened to gregory and christophe after the ending of BLU?

I’ve got two major headcanons! They went a bit long so to be kind to my followers and anyone who wants to reblog this I’m putting them under the cut <3

First off, I’ve thought a bit about what we have that is “canon”. That is to say, we get to see Christophe again in the series (kind of) when he flashes across the TV screen in Two Guys Naked in a Hot Tub. What’s he doing there? I think it’s reasonable to speculate that he gained a bit of notoriety after being discovered breaking into the USO show. He’s implied to have a long record of doing stuff similar to it, but somehow he was never caught until that moment. Once he was caught, his past was slowly uncovered until everyone became aware of this mercenary child and he became a bit of a fascination. Christophe’s mother certainly punished him in some way once she became more aware (either of that fact that it was all true or to what extent he’d done things), but I think she also wanted to find the “blessing in disguise” and so used Christophe’s infamy for her fifteen seconds of fame, taking him on talk shows and crying about how she was the poor victim mother to a devil child or something. Gregory’s parents, ever concerned with appearances, are so upset with the town’s attitude towards the war that they move away. They also definitely forbid Gregory from associating with Christophe ever again (if they even knew of the two’s friendship in the first place). This could go one of two ways: either Gregory is undeterred and chooses to keep contacting Christophe in secret, or he’s so scared of his parents’ approval that he ceases talking to Christophe, just like they asked. It’s a choice he heavily regrets later in life, but one that Christophe would likely eventually forgive because he also understands being terrified of one’s parents. No matter what, I think Christophe runs away the moment he feels he can and Gregory slowly cuts ties with his parents. Christophe moves in wherever Gregory is (i.e. squatting in his college dorm or his apartment). They continue their revolutionary work in various ways (rallies, union meetings, direct action, etc). They never get married or anything but they’re very in love. Maybe they tell each other that. Maybe they keep it to themselves. Depends on how much angst I want in this timeline.

Second, not going off that weird canon/not canon bit, I still think Gregory’s family moves away. My personal headcanon is that his parents are both professors who aren’t tenured anywhere, which means they tend to move a lot. During the time of the movie, they happened to be teaching at a college in Denver somewhere, before that wherever Yardale was. After the movie, they get an offer elsewhere and move, which means Gregory leaves town yet again. Christophe’s mother sees Gregory as a good influence (smart, proper, and Christian) so even if she grounded Christophe, she’d let Gregory come say goodbye and give Christophe a way to keep in contact with him. This would be deeply upsetting for Christophe, as Gregory moving away means he once again has no friends. I headcanon that he’s homeschooled (which is why no one knows anything about him despite the fact that he’s the same age as the other boys and lives in South Park), so it’s very hard for him to make any new friends. He clings to this one relationship desperately, messaging Gregory every day just to have someone to talk to that isn’t his mother. Gregory, who appreciates having someone who can engage with him on his intellectual level and will listen to whatever he has to say, also gets very attached to their relationship. They text every day, talk long into the night, video chat whenever possible... codependency but they are thriving because of it. Christophe again runs away as soon as he can, a move he probably coordinates with Gregory and maybe even a few town friends he’s managed to make over the years. Oddly enough I think Butters would be the most likely candidate to help, as Butters probably volunteers at the church (being so close with Father Maxi) and Christophe is likely forced to also volunteer. Butters has made a weird peace with his parents and their treatment of him, but he gets where Christophe is coming from and decides to sort of vicariously live through him by helping him escape. Christophe meets up with Gregory, who has been waiting for him to be able to be with him again for years and the moment they see one another, they just kiss. Whether or not they’d discussed it prior to then, there’s nothing they can say to express what the other has meant and continues to mean to them, so all they can do is kiss. Christophe would probably do something terribly impulsive like propose right afterward, to which Gregory would say “Not yet” since they’re just 18 at that point. They do start living together almost immediately though, Gregory at college and Christophe doing odd jobs and maybe an online degree. Maybe the odd jobs are mercenary ones and they get to have exciting semi criminal lives. Maybe it’s just like working at a bar or construction and they have more regular lives. No matter what, though, they have a very domestic vibe when they are with one another.

#thank u for the ask tullie it allowed me to have fun rambling :)#south park #sp headcanons #gregstophe #gregory of yardale #christophe delorne

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puella-peanut · 1 year

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could we get a lakreese scene where they're bickering over something stupid, but it ends all nice and fluffy lol?

In a nice!AU (which I’m basing this ask on), I don’t really see them as the type of couple that normally bickers. They’re weirdly compatible, smooth out each other's creases, and find their differences more love-able (or at least, uh, tolerable) than annoying. People wonder at the odd couple they make: one tall, burly, and perpetually sour, the other personified, loveable sunshine in what, a cute and convenient 90 pounds? Opposites attract. Maybe. Either way, people hate them! (But goshdangit are they fun to speculate about.)

Moving on...

...However, every now and then, probably once or twice a year if they get antsy for it, thrice if they’re bored—Daniel and John get into these topic-jumping arguments not helped by Daniel’s inability to not word-vomit, his hot-temper, and Kreese’s...just overall Kreese-ness.

For instance, John hates when Daniel brings his spare car parts into any part of the house that is not the garage. Disgusting. Remove it. If this were the Army, Daniel would be on his hands and knees with a toothbrush and a serving of regret and sore knees—and he’d deserve it. “Look, kid," John begins in a voice that brooks no argument, "I know you like to tinker with your toys—“

“—as a mechanic, it’s my job, John!—“

“—keep the guts in the garage. No sludge in the house.” End of story, John thinks. Now, where did he put his newspaper?

But Daniel is kinda ruffled now, like a little canary that’s had a feather plucked. Oh dear.

“Sludge? Sludge? Lemme tell ya, Kreese, without this part, that decrepit old Ford of yours wouldn’t even start, and you’d have to hitch-hike to your job ‘cause I’m not gonna be hauling you around like the ungrateful potato you are. And guess what, there’s no sludge ‘cause I used your newspapers to catch any drip, and well, speaking of sludge, that’s what’s in your coffee-mug—“ Daniel’s off on a rant, not helped by his not-so-good day at the bodyshop (fuck his co-worker Adam, that punk!!), and the fact that the only local Italian grocery store in this white-bread town still hasn’t restocked his favorite olive oil—how do they expect him to put a proper meal on the table?! Anyway, he doesn’t notice John’s nearly-perpetual frown deepen. Oops.

And John does hear the rant—by now he’s attuned to them, like a television wired for certain signals—but what really gets his gears going is his newspaper being used as a catchall drip-receiver. Damn it, he’s had a long day at his job (fuck his co-worker Steve, that moronic prick!!)—and all he wanted to read about was the local baseball game, and how can he do that now when LaRusso’s got his little grease-monkey hands all over it?! Goddamn it, it costs money to have it delivered to their house six days a week. Money which, as their bank accounts know, is scarcer than hens teeth. That lovable little shit.

Anyway, Daniel suddenly remembers how it’s not fair that John’s on his case for the wrenches and the screws and the rusty motor (all nice and neat on his stupid paper by the way!!), when John himself just the other day left his karate-bag on the window-seat and knocked down four, four!—of Daniel’s bonsai trees, and unlike a dumb paper, those can’t be so easily replaced and—

So it jumps from car —> newspaper —> bonsai trees—to the state of the country, the pros and cons of after-school sports, if they should RSVP or just show up to Terry’s annual summer party, to...well, everything plus the kitchen sink, since they’re snipping over everything else so why not snip over that too?

It goes on like seemingly without end even until Daniel angrily finishes dinner (using some dreadful generic-brand olive oil) and pouting like a ruffled Italian housewife, while John broods as he sets the table, and takes long, thoughtful sips of beer (generic brand, but that’s never bothered him), and wonders where he went wrong in life.

So, after an uncomfortable dinner, John retreats to the living room to watch the college football game and sulk (not at all missing the little figure normally curled up like a kitten at his side, no sir...)—while Daniel calls his Ma, (‘cause he checks in on her once a week like the good Italian boy he is), and anyway, he needs someone to whine to, since his usual outlet is the current cause of his problems. Che schifo, Ma! He twirls the kitchen phone cord around a finger, his other hand off his hip and then on it when he’s not gesturing to Ma, his John, the Madonna above, the universe...

“...so yeah, that’s the thing about John, my oh John, he looks like a caveman, I know, and he thinks that wearing a bomber-jacket is the height of sophistication, but I’m getting off topic here, anyway, he runs a tight household surprisingly despite the scruffy look okay, and he’s usually very spick and span—I guess that’s the service in him, probably something he picked up in basic training, ‘cause jeeze is the house squeaky-clean thanks to his insane cleaning routine Ma, oh yeah, anyway we got into it ‘today cause John’s always pissed off if there’s even a crumb outta line—“

“No I’m not LaRusso.” John responds from the living room. At this rate, everyone from Lucille to John Wayne will know their private business, and the latter’s been stone cold dead these fifteen years.

“—like I was saying, a crumb, lemme tell ya, he got all lumpy and sour like milk left out too long when I left a couple of bits n’ parts in the kitchen—yeah, Ma, on the newspaper like you taught me!—this is the type of guy who will wake you up in the am all menacing like, like the drill instructor he was—“

“Never done that, LaRusso. And I was a Captain—“

Daniel forgets his Ma’s on the other end of the line, forgets that she’s laughing at their antics as he snaps back,“—that’s a load of bull, ‘cause yeah you did, Kreese, 'member that time you woke me up and got in my business at an unholy hour just to let me know I’d left the hose running on the entire night and the water bill was gonna rocket up to the cosmos now, and the world was gonna end ‘cause—“

“—it becomes my business as well, kid, when a bill’s in my name. And dawn’s when you should’ve been up already,” John responds, focusing on the meat of the complaint and not the fat. He moves back into the kitchen, all slow and deliberate, his long shadow falling on the brat, menacing. And wasted, because Daniel’s not impressed in the slightest.

“—dawn! Dawn he says, Ma!—on the weekend, John? On Saturday?!”

“Yes."

Daniel rolls his eyes to the popcorn ceiling, letting out an exhausted groan. “Ma, Ma,” he sighs, “I’ll—okay, I'll call ya back later. I'm—“ he scowls at John. “Ma says hi—“

“Hi, Lucille.”

“—not that you deserve it." Daniel mumbles as his mother cheerfully sends John her love, and tells Daniel not to forget to call her, and to jot down his Sloppy Joe recipe. “Yeah got it, love ya too, Ma!”

He hangs the phone back up. Great, now it's too quiet. He chews his lip, turning to look at John, hands idly fiddling with the ends of his untucked shirt that he hadn’t ironed though John had reminded him, and not unkindly, only that morning. Before dropping a kiss that lingered on the top of his head, and heading off to work. His mouth twitches. Suddenly, this whole thing seems stupid. Probably because it is. The idling continues, and John watches Daniel watching him.

Finally, Daniel opens his mouth to say something, anything, because John's just gonna just stand there until the earth swallows him up otherwise. He thinks of something just as John steps up right into his space, making him immediately shut his mouth again, words forgotten. Daniel cranes his neck back, because John’s so much taller than him this close, easily taller than the fridge too, including the basket of fake fruits piled at the top; one of the lemons had fallen behind the fridge what, a week ago, he’ll have to remember to find it before it gets all fuzzy and gross like—“

The back of Daniel’s head hits the wall with a thump. “Ow, fuck—“

John’s hand reaches out quickly, at once cradling his head and pulling Daniel to him in one smooth movement. “Careful, Prima Donna,” John says. His other arm settles itself at Daniel’s waist, and Daniel relaxes into it. It’s a good weight. Familiar.

“What’d you care if I hurt myself, I could die from a wall-induced concussion and you’d still be on my case about denting it or something.” Daniel mumbles, but the dramatic petulance is just for show, something they both know.

“Mm.” John strokes his head like he would an injured kitten. Now that’s a thought, Daniel snorts.

“What.”

Daniel smiles up at him, his hands moving to play with the buttons marching up John’s really nice chest. He undoes one, two at the top, allowing a bit of chest hair to peek out. Much better! “Nothing. Well, not really, ‘cause I was thinking, John, we could fix that old table that's in halves in the garage and I could use it for my bits and pieces—"

"—sounds good."

Daniel beams. "Okay, alright, we can do that this Saturday maybe, you're off right? 'Cause I get off 'round one-ish, so...hey, what about we grab lunch or something? On the radio it said that the storm's gonna clear up by noon, so we can meet between your job and mine, oh John, there's this really cute breakfast-all-day diner that opened up midtown, we should—"

John’s hand moves from Daniel’s head to his face, thumb tracing the outline of his lips. Daniel stills. John tilts his head, leaning down, and Daniel leans up on his toes, curling his hands in John's shirt, already halfway closing his eyes but—

—all he feels on his lips is John's breath when he murmurs, “You think and talk enough for both of us," most unhelpfully, his face completely neutral as he pulls away and returns his arms to his side, leaving Daniel’s hands still curled at his buttons. Waiting for nothing.

“You could die from such a man,” Daniel sighs as he sinks back to the flats of his feet, missing the kiss he never got. The weight of strong arms around him. But he grins up at John anyways, bunny teeth on display. Sweet sunshine again.

There’s a ridiculously fond look on John’s face. “Don’t,” John says, brushing Daniel’s floppy bangs out of his eyes, and thumbing his cheek before he moves back. He grabs another beer from the fridge, leaving Daniel to roll his eyes, and search the cupboards for containers to hold the leftovers until the next day. Maybe he'll bake some more bread so they can have it with their lunches tomorrow. That'll be nice, he thinks, wondering if there's any garlic left over.

John returns to the living room, turns the TV off, and puts on an old record instead, a faint smile on his lips. Daniel will be out in a moment or two all ready to curl up by his side, like a kitten. It's been a long day, and they're both tired. Maybe they'll go on up to bed early as well. Not that they'll go to sleep immediately. Heh.

As he waits, he thinks about what he'll need to fix that table. And while he's at it, the lumber yard near the construction lot has some free wood slabs and pieces. He can stop there on his way back tomorrow, find something to build Daniel a nice shelf for his bonsai trees. The kid'll love it. Maybe he'll surprise him, too.

Now...where did he put that newspaper of his?

Anyway, Anon, this is what happens when you mix fire (Sagittarius), and Earth (Taurus) together. Not that Kreese’s birthday was ever given to be fair (come ON CK writers, fix this!)—but I head-canon him as being (a Boomer baby bless him), as well as a stubborn bull baby. His demeanor certainly fits! As well as the crotchety-ness. My cranky old caveman <3

But that’s just a hot-take brought to you by the Sag in me, Anon. ;D

#lakreese #john kreese #daniel larusso #in which i chase paper cuts #in which i respond to your inquiries #sweep the leg

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pooopopop · 2 years

Text

An Incredibly Important Topic Being Obscured by the Standom Phenomenon, And the Damaging Repercussions of the Self Help Industry.

I originally started posting to this fandom out of spite and in defense of a friend I talk to privately, whose incredibly smart and thoughtful but has an anxiety in them born out of OCD and Clinical Depression, which keeps them from posting publicly themselves. In conjunction with that, this friend is disabled due to EDS and Chronic migraine, but in spite of (or maybe because of,) this friend is educated in Sociology and Religion. Over this weekend we watched a conversation go over in the fandom that frightened them and I feel inclined to address it, though even if I share their frustration I’m not as educated on this subject so I will be relaying their points as best as I can. Here is the discourse as portrayed by the loudest and most passionate users in the fandom:

Firstly, let’s get two things out of the way. A single person flushing a single bottle of pills is a non-issue, it’s ridiculous to say that it is a major contributor to the environment. Second, it’s outright evil and counterproductive to shame a person for addiction and substance abuse, not that Misha is even guilty of that. Now,

What Misha did was irresponsible and ill-advised, that is stopping your prescription cold turkey AND telling your audience, an audience admires you far too much for their own good, about how you did it as if it was a triumph. Being on an opioid (Hydrocodone or Oxycodone) for two weeks after a major invasive surgery like a hip replacement is not an addiction. It also isn’t withdrawal that caused black spots and suicidal thoughts. Withdrawal is not something that only lasts two days. I am not accusing Misha of lying, what we believe he is is a victim of scare tactics and the rhetoric of his surroundings, the withdrawal symptoms he felt were in all actuality most likely caused by rejecting the use of medication as prescribed by a doctor and suffering the physical pain of deciding to “grit and bare it” while you’re in recovery and the emotional pain experienced by telling yourself you are a failure for wanting the pain to stop bad enough to indulge in taking a pill. That being said, if you should fear that you are beginning to struggle with addiction, you should 100% CALL YOUR DOCTOR. Crisis calls and Crisis appointments are a real thing and you should never fear reaching out for help. Addiction is not illegal, being in possession of prescribed medication is not illegal, of course you will NOT BE ARRESTED FOR IT. What IS something we advise you to be cautious about it telling your doctor, nurse, or EMT that you are experiencing suicidal thoughts. Though it shouldn’t be this way, you could likely be put in a less than ideal situation, so you are better off never going cold turkey on any medication so that you can best avoid getting to that point. NEXT, It’s important to note that Misha never said he has a disability. What @THEEwinchesters is implying here is that Misha has Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, which is pure speculation on his part. You should not diagnose people you do not know, celebrities the least of which. My friend is forgiving and would like to say that he probably doesn’t want anybody to ask him to elaborate because it would put him in a triggering position where he will have to defend and prove the diagnosis which is a struggle you already have to go through with a doctor in your own journey to get yourself officially diagnosed, but I don’t think that’s an excuse- if anything I think he should know that’s why you DON’T simply decide things for yourself in regards to strangers. You can’t base a diagnosis on being able to relate to somebody you like, and vice versa. But on the other side, Addiction is an illness. Depression is an illness. Both of which, now, Misha has opened up about dealing with. He seems to us like the type of person who rejects the idea of being ashamed of sickness and disability (in theory, more on that later); in fact, he’d likely claim EDS if he had it, and wear it proudly as an act of raising awareness and get Gish or Stands involved in it somehow. Since the OP tells you not to ask, we have to assume he is basing his diagnosis on is the fact that Misha is very flexible, a symptom of EDS. However, you see, Misha’s brother is a fitness trainer and yoga teacher. Which is a helpful Segway to the main topic that my friend had so much to say about…

IN the episode where Misha plays Castiel as a hippie, he is characterized as a spiritual leader and Sex Therapist(?), or at the very least pretending to be while he is indulging in his humanity. The portrayal seems to be based on Misha himself and his brother, even has a little shrine to Buddha making a cameo.

BUT- while it’s weird and not Cas, the biggest vice he indulges in that is explicitly condemned by the meta is… prescriptions. He pops some pills and Dean takes a look at them, and they are prescription amphetamines, which are prescribed to treat ADD. Vyvanse and Adderall. This being a vice is explicit, and its no coincidence that Misha also considers taking painkillers after a surgery to be something he had to overcome. He’s opened up about self medicating, dropping acid, smoking weed, Vicki’s book calls ecstasy a tried-and-true drug for threesomes (to use with caution, after condescendingly referring to XR drugs as “designer”), and partakes in glamorizing our rampant drinking culture enthusiastically. What Misha is victim to, and what everybody surrounding him is victim to as well, is the Self Help industry. It’s a vile thing that capitalizes on the shame of physical and mental illness, poverty, and in doing that it villainizes our most vulnerable people telling them that it only takes hard work and discipline to feel good. It teaches you that wanting medication is taking the easy way out, and that suffering from ailments or circumstances is a moral failure.

You catch this? Of course, it IS a Buddhist proverb, but there’s a reason that using this proverb is something they have in common and it isn’t because Jared co-op’d it. He is an obvious victim of the Self-Help Industry too, take a look at who he follows on Instagram.

The Self Help industry deeply intertwines itself with religion, as yet another powerful motivator to shame it’s clientele. It’s almost a religion in itself, with it’s heavy promotion of following philosophies, spot lighting failures, moralizing personal wellness, and predatory tactics that are designed to appeal to you when you are at rock bottom. They incorporate Buddhism, Christianity, and secularism all wrapped up in this New-Age pseudo-spirituality centering a philosophy of personal empowerment. There’s an abundance of Prosperity Gospel Preachers, who have been under scrutiny for decades, exposed again and again as hypocrites and heretics, who are practically entirely responsible for creating the fundamental strategies for MLM schemes, and the ever enduring holistic/alternative medicine business. However, what goes less scrutinized are the abusive self-help speakers and communities that disguise themselves behind New-Age flower-y garble, “witchy”/occult aesthetics, and the current most prevalent (and imo most offensive) offenders, Orientalists. The overlap is inescapable for White, American Buddhists. Though OprahWinfrey identifies as a Christian, while she was the countries biggest pop culture icon she caused a tidal wave that flooded the country cooking American Christianity, New-Age paganism, and fortune cookie Buddhism in a fat pot of gruel She sold as “Umami”. White Buddhism went the way of prosperity gospel, white-washing the concepts of Karma and Dharma by ignoring their cultural roots (they are spiritual concepts born and bound to a caste system being in place), to turn them into profitable currency, and leverage for the argument that you are deserving of the suffering you experience, and traditional medication is not only lazy but it robs you of the opportunity to become a greater person by overcoming your suffering on your own merit. This is why Misha considered it a triumph throw out his RX and misidentified lingering recovery pains and bad frame of mind to withdrawal, because he considers pain medication to be an indulgence that he has to atone for. It’s why there’s no shame or significant repercussions you can blame on self-medicating/experimenting with illicit drugs + psychedelics. In contrast, the latter is a task he took upon himself and learn from, which makes it “kosher” so to speak. New Agers and Secularists were appealed by the same belief system when it was packaged and resold to the general public as Energy Exchange and the Law of Attraction when it was introduced to them by Oprah and her large scale promotion of the book, The Secret.

Joe Rogan laughs at it, but he went and reinvented the wheel, with what he’s coined as “The Winner and The Loser Mentality” and preaches to his audience. The pages Jared follows, ways2well, market their brand on Joe’s philosophy a ton, reposting clips from his podcast with a proud co-sign. On a post featuring Jared, they promoted another kind of anti-pharmaceutical pseudoscience movement, “Functional Medicine”.

Read about why that’s snake oil, here. The Self-Help industry exploits people and causes real, quantifiable harm. Oprah’s promotion of The Secret resulted in the death of a devout member of her viewership when she decided to stop treating her cancer with traditional medicine, because she had been sold on the idea that she had it within her to overcome it herself. I suppose, ultimately, she must have simply had a loser mentality. We recognize Misha and Jared as susceptible to their environment as anybody else can be, and we do truly sympathize with them, Jared in particular seems live in, what we will call… less compassionate surroundings, and suffers more for it if his public outbursts and on record emotional breakdowns are anything to speak of. (or… at least my friend does. Me, less so. Lmao) But it would be an absolute tragedy if any of you ended up hating yourself for needing medication to get through life, if any of you thought that having treatment resistant depression means something about you as a person. Medication is not a treat, it is not an indulgence, you aren’t at fault for your own pain and misery. You aren’t being punished. You aren’t any less valuable. You deserve to feel ok. You deserve help. Pills are not short cuts. Medication is not cheating. Please do not hold any of these men up so high that you think you need to trust their judgement and subscribe to their beliefs. You really do deserve better.

#Misha collins #jared padalecki #gen padalecki #Misha #destiel #jibcon #jibcon12 #jpad #j2 #j2m

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thatfreshi · 1 year

Text

Strangers (markiplier x reader)

This is more of an angst to comfort to oooooooo (not smut but before smut LMAO). Mark and his partner have been busy with work, and apparently way too busy for each other. Neither one of them breaks the tension for a long time, until y/n has had enough of the silence.

You can’t even remember when things started to become this way. Eventually, life just fell into this exhausting, anxious pattern. Schedules shifted, the distance was made, and neither of you attempted to fix anything. Why? Did you both not care anymore? That can’t be true. You’ve always loved Mark. Ever since you laid eyes on him, you adored his smile and his, well, his everything. Even his damn work ethic, something you sadly shared.

Now you don’t share anything anymore. Dinner is eaten alone, you’re never in bed at the same time, and there isn’t any time for cuddles or tv binges. Your house might as well have become a hellscape, stepping on eggshells around each other to make sure you don’t interrupt anything.

Occasionally are guilty glances when you see each other. You’ve been calling your friends, wondering if Mark hates you, if you hate him, if this will ever be right again.

“I’m telling you y/n, just talk to him. I think you guys are both making yourselves miserable over nothing.”

Ethan was probably right, but you’d never admit it. Maybe it was too hard to face that fact that you were also apart of this divide. You’ve been working vigorously on your book, and Mark has some other new project that he’s been keeping quiet about.

“I’m sure he’d tell you about it if you asked, you just have to try.”

It’s not that simple. Nothing is that simple right now. There’s so much stress in the air waves, no sound to break up the tension, static in the hallways, nothing in sight and yet everything at once.

‘This is crazy.’

You think to yourself as you’re drifting off for yet another cat nap. The caffeine wasn’t doing it for you this time.

Thoughts gather. Was there some fight you aren’t remembering? Did you do something? Did he do something? You can’t take anything back from the void of memories that is your brain. You can’t even remember the last time both of you spoke to yourselves, let alone each other. You do remember one thing, the other night, you were going to bed and Mark was in the doorway, and when he realized you were there, he left to sleep elsewhere. You begin to sob into the pillows that don’t even smell like him anymore.

‘This has to end, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t live with a stranger anymore.’

You wipe your tears and push up off the bed, taking a look out the window. There’s a bird, all alone. It picks at something on the ground and flies away.

It’s to the point where you don’t even know where in the house he is, this stupidly large house. You used to love having so many rooms but now it’s a fucking maze. No trace of a sound bounces off any of the walls, so you have to go around and open almost every door looking for him. Eventually you get to his office. It seems obvious, but maybe you avoided it on purpose. The tears are back, flooding your face. You attempt to knock, but you hand gets shaky. Eventually you just open the door.

Mark seems shocked to see you, flinching as the door opens, taking off his headphones. Of course he’s busy editing something. You haven’t even looked at the things he’s uploaded recently, but you have seen the comments on social media.

‘Haven’t seen a lot of y/n recently. Do you think they broke up?’

Why do people think they get the right to speculate just because you’re both on the internet? It makes it so much worse, watching people doubt you when you have no faith in the love you once held.

“Mark, I-”

You choke, catching unknown words in your throat. What could you possibly say right now? He clearly doesn’t know what to say either. He’s still shocked that you’re even in his office.

“Hey.”

That’s all he manages to utter. What do you even say to that? After weeks and weeks of ignoring each other that’s it? That’s all either of you have? In that moment, you gather the strength to admit it.

“I can’t, do this anymore.”

And you start sobbing all over again. He’s immediately out of his haze.

“I can’t live in this house and pretend like you don’t exist. Like, what happened? Where are we right now? We don’t talk, we don’t even look at each other.”

He’s silent, processing the words.

“I know you almost came to bed the other night. You saw me, and you left.”

You barely spit out the last couple of words. Some more manage to tumble out.

“What happened to us?”

You’ve been looking him in the eyes this entire time, and he starts quivering, holding back tears.

“I, I don’t know.”

Neither of you move. You’re both in this emotional standstill.

“Okay, well, do you hate me or something?”

He immediately perks up.

“No! No, of course not.”

“Then what are we doing.”

Silence ensues. He doesn’t seem to have an answer. You sigh, and turn to walk away. All of a sudden he grabs your hand. You pull away a little, shocked by the sudden physical touch.

“I’m sorry y/n.”

You pause, slightly turning back.

“What, what are you sorry for?”

“Sorry I didn’t say anything first. Sorry I got so busy. Sorry I was feeling too guilty and sorry for myself to even look you in the eyes. I don’t know what happened, I just got so wrapped up with this project and calls and editing and more and more videos and before I knew it I thought you resented me, for all of this.”

That’s the most he’s said in a month. You finally meet his gaze again.

“But, this isn’t your fault. I should’ve done something sooner. I should’ve given the book a rest instead of hiding behind work. I should’ve asked you why you didn’t come to bed, I-”

You run out of breath from heaving and crying with what feels like your entire soul.

“Why did we ever let work matter this much?”

You don’t know how to answer him. You don’t even know what’s happening right now.

“Wait, what did you mean when you said ‘I can’t do this anymore’? Are you breaking up with me?”

You snap back to reality.

“No! I, don’t know what I meant. I just, I just can’t do whatever this is anymore. I need us again. I just, I miss you.”

The silence sets in again. You’re worried maybe he doesn’t feel the same, that maybe he was done with this. And then he embraces you.

“I just want to fix this.”

His hand is in your hair, tears on your shoulder.

“I know baby, I know.”

There’s a moment of understanding, where you both realize that maybe it was nobody’s fault at all, or that maybe both of you were equally to blame. The point is that it doesn’t matter anymore. He lets go of the embrace and wipes his tears away, something that seems to be a theme of the afternoon.

“No, I mean I want to fix this, I need to fix this. I’m so incredibly in love with you and I just can’t believe I let something get in the way of that.”

“Me too. I just thought maybe things were going to be horrible forever and I got into this fucked up thought pattern. I wish I said something sooner.”

He turns away and walks back to his desk, checking something on his computer. Your stomach drops for a second, thinking that maybe he’s distracted from the problem yet again. Instead he’s typing something furiously. After a minute or so he hits enter and walks back to you.

“I’m taking a month off. I just let my editor and all the people working on this new project know.”

You breathe out in relief.

“Y/n, nothing is more important to me than you are, and I’m sorry I ever made you feel like you weren’t my priority. I want to get back to us, just us. None of the work, none of the responsibility, well, except feeding Chica and stuff obviously.”

You snort in laughter through heavy breaths.

“Yeah, yeah you’re right. I can take off some time from the book.”

He smiles and cups your face.

“I love you y/n. And I am going to tell you that every day for the rest of my life.”

“I love you too, and you’re never going to forget it.”

You kiss, nervous at first, lips stumbling through the unknown, quickly relearned. It’s electric, a candle relit, a new beginning. One turns into two turns into four, and eventually you’re walking down the hallway to something much better than the work that awaits in that office.

#markiplier #markiplier x reader #gender neutral reader #angst #comfort

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brianwashere · 1 year

Text

Hi so basically this was a short story I wrote for class right so that’s why it sounds like it is. If you guys want the expanded version just tell me. Sorry that the paragraphs are chunkier ://

I’m really playin with fire here, they got tumblr, man

Uhhhh I just thought some people would like ghoul boys content. It’s also told from Shane’s pov

Also read this as a crack fic bcc it def turned into one

⚠️THIS IS A PLATONIC RELATIONSHIP IT WILL NOT BE READ WITH ANY ROMANCE BCC SHIPPING REAL PEOPLE IS DISGUSTING IF I SEE ANY OF THEM SHIPPERS INTERACTING I WILL BE BLOCKING. IF SHANE OR RYAN SAY THEY ARE UNCOMFY WITH ANY FANFICTION OF THEM I WILL TAKE THIS DOWN⚠️

**i do not own any of the watcher or buzzfeed unsolved rights or anything like that**

Characters involved: Shane, Ryan, Crowley

Genre: short story(?) there’s a happy ending dw

Summary: Ryan discovers Shane is a demon then they like…go to court and stuff

Tw: mention of death, courtroom thing, Shane goes through some stuff, small fight scene

A Demon’s Tale

Look, I don't care what you believe in, but as far as I’m concerned that Dante fellow got it pretty accurate. It all started with me going undercover as a human in 100 B.C.--to tempt humanity and do other demon-y things.

For twenty years I worked diligently being a good–well, nasty–little demon. Then I got bored and traveled the world, easy when you can just teleport. Met that Jesus guy, a nice dude, and a good message he had going.

Fast forward 2000 years and there I was working as a ghost hunter with my best friend at Watcher. Our technical titles are “Paranormal Investigators”, but I digress. We basically just go to “haunted” locations and try to find evidence of the supernatural.

So that’s how I ended up standing in a “haunted” field in Ohio, halfway through Fall. Ryan, he’s my best friend, was talking to the camera explaining why this field was haunted.

“Think we’ll see a demon here?” I teased him.

“Shane, as much as I’d love to see you proven wrong, I really hope not.” Ryan nervously joked back.

I was the shows skeptic, wholeheartedly denying that the supernatural was real. Ryan, however, believed all that bologna. We kept walking further into the field until I noticed an off feeling in my throat, like trying to swallow a spoonful of honey.

My eyes scanned the brush line. Despite it being pitch black my demon eyes could see perfectly. That’s when I spotted it, there were two glowing red eyes staring at us from across the field. That wasn’t good. Apparently, some hobgoblin (a low-level demon) owned this field and did not take kindly to trespassers.

I glanced at Ryan, who was none the wiser. The hobgoblin would probably want him more than me; it was already eyeing him specifically. I needed to divert its attention toward me. Shaking my head, I sighed.

“Hey, you pathetic hobgoblin! If you want me off your field, you’re gonna have to kill me!” With confidence, I yelled in its direction.

“Shane! What are you doing? Stop!” Ryan whisper yelled.

Its beady red eyes snapped at me and with a snarl, it launched itself at me. I stumbled back in surprise but caught it by the shoulders and threw it backward.

"̶̱̼̥̯͍̫̑͊̈́̓̑̍̆͌̄͜͝Ḏ̷͖̈̀̎ĩ̷̤̞̱̲̣̖̻̬͓̺̇̍̈́̑̆͑̚̕͜s̷̢͓͎͇̱̰̎̀̍̅͆͒͗́̊͆͝͝c̵͉̟͛͑̾͒̒̉̑̾̌̿͜e̷̯̬̻̲͉̣̓̿́̽̕͠ḑ̸̢͉͕͎͓͈̱͔̮̪͂͊͂͊̍̿̑̊͗̀ę̵̫̝̯̝̞̼̮͖̮́́̆̎̈́̍͂̾͌̽̓͝!̶̘͔̰̫̣̓̓̏̔̾͑͠"̸̪̲͚͙̖͚̞̝̤̖̜̙̀͂͒̈́̇̑͌͌̕͘͝͠ It screeched at me.

Now, it's been a while since I've had to speak Beelzebabble, but you don’t always need to speak someone’s language to understand what they’re saying.

In this hobgoblin’s case, it was saying something along the lines of ‘Leave!’ but hey, that’s just speculation. I flashed my teeth, which had grown sharp; albeit an... outdated display of dominance but it seemed like an old-fashioned guy.

The hobgoblin seemed to understand that it would lose against me no matter what. He scampered off. I turned back to Ryan who looked like he’d just seen a ghost (funny because it was a demon). The silence was deafening, I awkwardly put my hands in my pockets and rocked back and forth on my feet, clearing my throat.

“So... crazy wind, right?” It was a pathetic attempt to brush off any ideas of the paranormal.

Ryan was a deer caught in headlights. His eyes blown wide and his mouth gaping.

“Shane--are... are you a demon?” He managed to stutter out.

I pursed my lips. He was never supposed to know. No one was ever supposed to know.

Breaking my cover to a human was one thing, but genuinely befriending one was unheard of. If Downstairs ever found out about this, they’d demote me back to Imp. No more sunshine and bright Earth to live on, just blood-red skies and 10 layers of pure agony. If that little hobgoblin snitched, I could be in deep.

“Hehe... surprise...?” I nervously laughed.

Emotions were one of those things I still can’t figure out, like the appeal of acupuncture or spicy food. I nervously wrung my hands as shock, distrust, and worst of all, fear washed over Ryan’s face. The shorter man took an uncertain step back.

“Who are you?” His voice was filled with fear but masked by hate.

“Ryan, hey it's still me, still your good ol’ pal, Shane Madej. Nothing’s changed.” I took half a step towards him.

It felt like I was trying to corral a stray dog.

“Stay back!” His voice wavered.

I glanced around nervously; at any moment a hoard of demons could appear to drag me back Downstairs and kill Ryan.

“Ryan, look, we can talk about this later but right now we need to go. Now. Before they come back with more.” I kept my voice as calm as I could.

Ryan also glanced around, picking up on my anxiety.

“Who?” He questioned when I didn’t elaborate.

“No one you wanna meet. Come on!” I insisted and began walking back to the car.

“No..." Ryan mumbled.

“No?” I mimicked, looking back at him.

“No!” He repeated, stamping his foot once. “No more secrets! Especially not ones that pertain to our job!”

“Ryan! Now is not the time!” I hissed.

“Shane--” He was cut off by a loud rumbling and shaking of the ground, suddenly chains wrapped around Ryan.

Two demons appeared clutching his arms, and they were gone as soon as they arrived. I whipped my head around in time to see another larger demon grab me and teleport me to Downstairs’ Courtroom. Literally. There was already a jury of demons there waiting.

“Your Dishonor, the defendant one, Shane Madej,” The ‘lawyer’ paused as the courtroom around me giggled or snorted, except for Ryan who couldn’t find the amusement in my name. “Was clearly violating several of the ‘Inferior Ideologies’ he pledged in 0 B.C.”

I kept my eyes on my claws as my leg bounced. The turkey-necked Judge raised a brow and turned to me.

“Shane Madej, how do you plead?” He asked.

It was more a formality than anything else; if you go to court in Hell then you’re doomed from the start. We got the whole ‘guilty until proven innocent’ thing going, and the defendant isn’t allowed a lawyer. Try that for unconstitutional.

“Uh, Guilty?” I responded meekly, raising my eyebrows and shrugging my shoulders.

“Well, I say that about seals it. Shane Madej, you will be burned in the bath of holy water and--” The judge was cut off by the doors to the courtroom slamming open and an out-of-breath-looking demon speed-walking to the center of the courtroom.

My head snapped up to look at who interrupted my trial.

“Your Dishonor, if I may,” His British voice rang out. “My client, Mr. Madej, was simply doing his job. As a hellion and instigator of evil-doing, breaking or ignoring rules and laws is his duty.”

He had round dark shades that covered his eyes with flame-red hair spiked forward and he smelled like old leather.

I raised an eyebrow.

Who was this guy?

The Judge’s eyes darkened.

“Crowley.” He spat scornfully. “You seriously expect us to drop all charges on this man because you think he was ‘doing his job’.”

Wow, this guy was the real deal if the Judge had heard of him.

“No, Sir. He may not get away without punishment, but I propose a punishment rarely used, discarded by time. So old and ridiculous that even you have forgotten it.” The red-haired demon tempted.

The Jury was on the edge of their seats. This Crowley guy really knew how to entertain.

Z “I propose that Shane Madej and his friend, Ryan Bergara, be set free in exchange for Shane’s demon curse.” The Jury gasped and some lady in the front fainted.

“He can do that?” Ryan exclaimed.

The Judge’s eyes twinkled, and a sly grin spread across his face.

“It is acceptable…if Mr. Madej agrees, that is.” He challenged.

Everyone in the courtroom turned to me expectantly. My throat suddenly went dry; I gulped.

This can’t seriously be allowed, right? There’s no way.

Crowley gave me a pleading look. My eyes scanned the courtroom. Ryan stared at me, still chained to the chair. I furrowed my brow.

“I-...I accept.” I exhaled deeply.

“Then that does it! Shane Madej by the power vested in me by the Devil himself, I strip you of your demon curse and revoke all contact with the Devil and all of his underlings” The Judge exclaimed, sounding too enthusiastic for the punishment he condemned me to.

Suddenly my vision blurred. The world around me started spinning and I felt nauseous for the first time in my life. I stumbled out of the stand, collapsing to my hands and knees.

“Shane!” I distantly heard Ryan yell.

The room dimmed as I heard ‘ooohs’ and laughter. I gasped for air, something I'd never had to do before. The air was hot and jagged like burning serrated metal slicing my lungs.

I think I screamed but frankly, I can’t remember all that much from those seconds? Minutes? Hours? It all swirls together like a whirlpool of incoherent words and images.

I looked around the room, it was so dark I wondered if my eyes were closed. As they adjusted to the lack of light, I spotted Ryan. He looked ready to scream at any moment. I stood up, steadying myself on the stand. The Jury looked horrified. Crowley looked regretful. I rubbed my head and cleared my throat.

“Ready to go, Ryan?” I flashed a half-hearted smile.

He looked concerned but nodded all the same. Somehow in the process of me turning human he had been unchained. We turned to look at Crowley.

“Gentlemen, allow me to escort you out.” He announced.

Hurriedly, he placed a hand on Ryan and I’s shoulders and immediately we were by the van we drove here in. The morning sun was just beginning to rise over the tree line. I stumbled a bit, adjusting to my newfound humanity while Ryan looked queasy and held his stomach.

“Never...again.” He wheezed out.

“Crowley, how can I ever repay you?” I asked sincerely.

“Stay out of paranormal business the lot of ya’.” He answered quickly.

“Well, Ryan. Looks like we need to find ourselves a new job.” I said teasingly.

He just groaned and made his way to the passenger seat of the car.

“Seriously, man. I can’t thank you enough for getting me out of that pickle. Even if I'm less...me now.” I sighed.

“Shane, being a demon isn’t what makes you you. My best friend told me that, you’d be wise to listen to the advice.” Crowley responded.

I just nodded.

“Well, by now Crowley. See you later.” I waved as I got into the driver's seat of the van.

“If all goes well, hopefully, you won’t!” He called.

I grinned at his witty comment and turned the key, starting the ignition. Ryan was already asleep and snoring lightly. The dirt path shook the car; rocks and sticks let out various noises of complaint as the tires rolled over them.

I pondered a while about the day’s events. Maybe being human was worse than being a demon, they do so many cruel things after all. I let out an amused huff as a thought crossed my mind.

To think a Man's enemies are demons, but not human beings like himself is foolish.

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comm-caribou · 2 years

Text

Chapter Ten: One Step Forward

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: fluff (let me know if I missed any!)

————

Back at their base of operations and in their barracks, that’s where Cooper wanted to be. He wanted to be putting on his red fatigues, and going to bed in his bunk just below Keks’s.

Instead, he was in his black bodysuit putting his white armor back on.

“You’re grumbling,” Keks muttered tiredly.

“Am not,” Cooper growled picking up his chest plate with its purple zigzags along the seams.

The Sergeant was doing his best to be quiet. Last thing he needed was to wake all the sleeping troopers and have them notice the bunk below Coyote’s was empty.

It would lead to everyone speculating on the General and Fang. In Cooper’s opinion, it was stupid how invested in their brother’s crush they all were.

Keks rolled over in his bunk, rubbing his eyes, “vhere you going?”

“Your accent is super annoying sometimes,” Cooper struggled with his arm plating.

“I’ll let that slide,” Keks hopped down, brushing Cooper’s hands away. “Just let me.”

Cooper sighed, letting Keks fix him.

“Vhy are you so bent out of shape?” Keks asked.

“It’s pronounced why, there’s no ‘v’ in why,” Cooper rubbed his temples.

Keks sighed, “I get that you’re irritated and feel like you have no control over anything, but leave my accent out of it. It’s mine, okay?”

Cooper glared up at the ceiling, “fine.”

“Is this about the Commander vanting to see you?” Keks whispered.

Cooper nodded.

What did I do to get called in for a meeting in his quarters? He never lets anyone in his quarters anymore. That is, except the General supposedly sleeping on his floor. Or so he claims.

One innocent sleep over couldn’t cure the Commander.

It was fact.

There was more there, there had to be more there.

The worst part was Hardwire use to tell the group everything, now he hid away.

Things were different a week ago.

Keks went back to his bunk, “you shouldn’t keep him vaiting.”

Cooper lowered his gaze, looking at his brother with his back to him now. Keks had curled himself up, facing the wall he had plastered in drawings from kids they encountered on relief missions.

He kept them all; even the really bad scribbles.

He’d be a good dad.

The thought struck Cooper out of nowhere, really hitting him that maybe Fang wasn’t the only one with these wild dreams.

Cooper gripped Keks’s shoulder, then made his way out.

Do I have any dreams in me?

****

She trembled against his chest.

“You don’t have to be scared,” Fang wrapped an arm around her. “I’m not going to do anything if you don’t want me to.”

“I’m not scared,” Juliette protested, “my nerves are just shot.”

“Right,” Fang didn’t believe her.

He could feel his heart pounding. Pounding so hard, that he was sure if he took off his plating they’d see it beating out of his chest.

While happy he was getting a chance, he felt stuck.

I’m here, we’re cuddling, we admitted we like each other… now what?

Despite the previous day, Fang didn’t think he’d get this far. He wasn’t sure where to go next from here, and he still couldn’t believe she didn’t know.

Was Rani the only person who even liked her like this?

Juliette shifted, hugging around his waist, “you’re probably disappointed. Expecting something else. I’m so sorry to be such a let down.”

“Not really,” Fang offered her his free hand. “I honestly didn’t expect this right now.”

She placed her hand on his black glove, tracing the lines of his palm beneath the fabric.

“If you want, I could take this gear off,” Fang offered, “like on the ship.”

Juliette turned to him, cheeks pink, “I’d like that.”

He smiled, leaning back slightly to begin removing white pieces of armor.

She turned around, sitting on her knees facing him as he stacked the plates off to the side of the bed. Her hands fiddling with the purple gem hanging on a silver chain around her neck.

I can’t believe she’s wearing it already.

“What were you doing before I came by?” Fang smiled.

“Plotting,” she looked up at the ceiling, “it’s too dreary in here.”

“I understand,” Fang looked up at the bare, gray ceiling. “Going to paint it just like your old room.”

“I was thinking flowers around the edges instead of blending in with the stars,” Juliette shrugged. “Still can’t decide on the flowers though.”

He fiddled with his fingers, studying the ceiling, “anything you do will be beautiful, Juliette.”

Juliette took his hand in her’s. Her small hand in his bigger palm, lacing her long fingers into his calloused ones.

It felt different without the glove barriers.

It felt warmer to Fang.

“Juliette,” Fang scooted closer, “may I ask why you avoided me all day?”

She looked away, “I was scared.”

“Of me?” Fang frowned.

“That you’d know I liked you,” Juliette covered her cheek to hide her redness.

She blushes a lot, Fang smiled.

“I kind of started to realize,” Fang admitted.

She took hold of his other hand, sending an odd ghosting sensation through his remaining bit of arm.

“I’d like to thank you again,” Fang studied his prosthetic. “You didn’t have to buy my arm.”

“But they would’ve killed you,” Juliette squeezed his hands.

“Maybe.” Fang looked into her eyes, “maybe not. Now I don’t have to find out.”

Juliette traced his fingers, “still…”

Fang pulled her close, “tell me a story.”

She fell into him, resting against his chest looking up at him flustered.

“I want to hear more about you,” Fang brushed her cheek.

She smiled, blushing again.

****

Cooper’s hand hovered over Hardwire’s door.

He probably had been standing there for several minutes.

He wasn’t a hundred percent sure what this meeting was about, or why it was in his private quarters.

“Sarge?”

Cooper turned his head, seeing Boomerang and Mirage walking back to the barracks from the medical wing.

“What are you doing?” Mirage asked.

“The Commander wants a meeting with me,” Cooper shrugged, trying to shake off his nerves.

“Think you’re in trouble for bad mouthing the General?” Boomerang teased.

“I didn’t think that,” Cooper felt his stomach drop. “I’m just voicing my concerns.”

“I thought you approved of her,” Mirage leaned on the wall.

“I do,” Cooper argued, “I like that she cares about us, but she ran off during a battle. She disappears constantly, and she has no idea what she’s doing. She’s practically a front.”

“Debatable,” Boomerang hummed.

Debatable?

“How can you say that?” Cooper scoffed.

“She can hold her own,” Mirage admitted, “I followed her the whole first battle.”

“Up until she ran off,” Cooper argued.

“Hardwire told her to go,” Boomerang pointed out. “We had it under control.”

“But what if she ran?” Cooper continued.

“She didn’t though,” Mirage stated.

“She could’ve,” Cooper crossed his arms.

“Cooper, she came back,” Mirage pressed.

Boomerang got between them, “gee, Coop, you got abandonment issues?”

Cooper bit his tongue.

“You do.” Boomerang grinned.

“Shut up,” Cooper gritted his teeth.

“You’re scared she’s going to leave,” Boomerang chuckled. “You’re keeping her at a distance so if she runs away, it won’t hurt.”

“I said shut up,” Cooper repeated, stepping towards Boomerang.

Mirage stood up straight, “touch him and I’ll break your face.”

“Try me, Mirage,” Cooper hissed.

Hardwire’s door flew open, “enough!”

The men froze.

Hardwire glared at them, “I can hear you all though the door.”

“Sorry, sir,” Mirage stood down.

“Real sorry,” Boomerang muttered.

Cooper turned away, grumbling.

Hardwire sighed, “Fox did some digging. There wasn’t much about her, but he found some reports.”

“Yeah?” Cooper crossed his arms, “and what did your new friend find?”

“Her mother was a mercenary, her father was a bodyguard,” Hardwire beckoned them in, “come look at the files.”

“Us too?” Mirage asked.

“Yes,” Hardwire said over his shoulder.

“In your quarters?” Mirage confirmed.

“Obviously.” Hardwire sat at his desk.

Does Hardwire not realize he’s never just let us enter his room?

Boomerang went in, looking around, “how boring. You don’t even have any kind of decor.”

“Do I look like I have time to decorate?” Hardwire mused. “Besides, I’ve seen your barracks. It’s not impressive.”

“Ouch.” Boomerang sat on his bed.

Mirage walked in next, after accidentally shoulder checking the doorframe.

“Jeez, Mirage,” Cooper grumbled closing the door behind him.

“I didn’t think it was that close,” Mirage sat beside Boomerang.

“Don’t make fun of Pretty Boy,” Boomerang wrapped an arm around Mirage, “he’s got no depth perception.”

Hardwire picked up his data pad, “as I was saying, there’s a lot about her mother, except for the origin of where she came from. Her name was Almyra Suun.”

“What’s her parents got to do with Juliette?” Cooper asked.

“Will you let me finish?” Hardwire scrolled on, “her father was a bounty hunter who went all over, mostly taking jobs as a bodyguard.”

“I’m predicting mom was hired to kill someone dad was protecting,” Boomerang laughed.

“Actually, yes,” Hardwire kicked his feet up on his desk.

Boomerang’s eyes widened, “I was joking!”

Cooper groaned, are you kidding me?

****

If I could capture a moment forever, Fang thought to himself, this would be it.

It was late into the night, and Juliette was curled up beside him sleeping with her hand resting on his abdomen.

Fang leaned over and kissed Juliette’s cheek, then slipped out of the bed. He pulled the soft, patterned blanket from her ankles up her body, just below her chin.

She snuggled into the blanket, letting out a sigh.

He knew he shouldn’t risk it again, but he leaned down kissing her soft cheek, whispering in her ear, “goodnight, Juliette.”

She continued sleeping, looking so at ease.

I wish I could stay, but I don’t want to give anyone the wrong idea.

Fang picked up his armor, quietly putting the plates back on his upper body. Then, he stole one final look at his sleeping girlfriend.

He turned out the light as he exited her room.

After shutting the door, he let out a happy sigh.

I have a girlfriend.

“Vod.”

Fang practically jumped out of his skin, seeing Coyote sitting in the hall just a few feet from the door.

“The heck?” Fang held his chest, “what are you doing out here, Coyote?”

Coyote held up his regulations manual, “everyone else is sleeping.”

Fang took a deep breath, running his hands through his messy curls.

Coyote looked at the door he just came out of, “did she like the necklace?”

Fang moved over to him, “she did.”

“Good.” Coyote smiled at the datapad in his hands.

Fang slid down the wall next to him, “thanks for the idea, and supplying me with both the wire and the chain.”

“That’s what brothers are for,” Coyote wrapped an arm around him.

“And you are the best brother I have,” Fang smiled.

“Don’t tell the others,” Coyote whispered.

Fang snickered, then looked at the regulations manual, “anything about what I’m doing being wrong?”

“Who cares?” Coyote said, “none of us are going to snitch, not as long as you two don’t let it get in the way of your duty to the Republic.”

Fang nodded, “I won’t.”

Coyote looked back at the door again, “do I even want to know what you two were doing?”

“Just talking,” Fang assured, “nothing bad.”

“Then where’s your rerebrace?” Coyote tapped his bicep.

Fang looked at his right arm, not realizing he missed a piece, “kriff.”

“You took your armor off,” Coyote teased.

“To cuddle.” Fang turned to the door, “I’ll get it tomorrow.”

“Don’t let Cooper see you without your full gear,” Coyote warned. “He’s been acting off lately.”

“I think he’s just coping,” Fang shrugged, “we all are.”

“No offense,” Coyote turned to him, “but what exactly happened to Cooper? He didn’t lose his arm, or get a very bad facial scar, or run into the cave to save us, or lose his voice, or most of his squad.”

Fang tried to calm him, “it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” Coyote gripped his arms, “I can still hear you screaming as I cut your arm off every night. I can see Grit’s intestines outside his body, Howl crushed under debris that probably split him in two by the impact, and Clip’s burnt corpse sprawled out because he saved the Commander. I didn’t even realize the Commander was laying in a hole with second degree burns on his face!”

Fang hugged him, “Coyote, it’s okay.”

Coyote looked up at the ceiling, as if willing himself not to cry.

Losing Pack Squad was big blow. Fang knew this, but it didn’t affect him this much. Coyote knew them since the day they were lumped together, Fang only knew them a little more than a year.

“I’m sorry,” Fang hugged him tighter. “I’m here for you, and I’m so grateful for you for always sticking by me and not leaving me to die and-“

“You’re crushing me,” Coyote gasped.

“Sorry!” Fang released him.

“When did you get so strong?”

“I didn’t think I was.”

“Well, you are.”

Fang smiled, “you’re pulling my leg, aren’t you?”

Coyote smiled all teeth, “maybe.”

“You’re my favorite brother,” Fang smiled.

“I know,” Coyote got up, “come on, let’s go to bed.”

Fang took his hand, “remind me to get my armor piece tomorrow.”

“I will,” Coyote pulled him up.

He wrapped his arm around him, smiling fondly as Coyote led him back to their barracks.

****

“So, Jaller met Almyra on the job. She betrayed her client and he took her in,” Boomerang recapped. “They went on to become some sort of partnership, and they at some point got married, and along came our General.”

“I don’t see how you could fall for someone who was sent to kill you,” Mirage pondered.

“I don’t see how you can see a person who is essentially your obstacle and fall for them,” Cooper countered.

Hardwire simply shrugged, “a lot of the reports focused on that bit. Personally, I found the fact Almyra was nicknamed the Living Weapon more interesting.”

Cooper snickered, “same. Now we know where Juliette’s endless amount of credits came from.”

Mirage took the datapad from Hardwire, “do you think Juliette is capable of this?”

“Well, yes,” Boomerang stated, “however, as the reports state, her mother died when she was young, so her father must’ve raised her. Right?”

“She did say her father raised her,” Hardwire reminded, “and it seems his moral code was to help those in need.”

So, she’s the daughter of a mercenary and a bodyguard, Cooper noted. I wonder how capable she is with being a killer.

“Is there anything about Juliette directly?” Mirage scrolled.

“There’s a huge gap,” Hardwire said, “but her name pops up about three years ago. Odd jobs mostly.”

“So, she’s still an anomaly?” Cooper groaned.

Boomerang grinned, “I like the surprises.”

“Same,” Mirage handed Hardwire his datapad back.

Hardwire turned to Cooper, “do you want to go though it? You can stay here and read it over to see if I missed something.”

He wanted to shake his head.

He wanted to say he didn’t care.

But, his concerns outweighed his trust.

Cooper took the datapad from Hardwire.

“Cooper,” Boomerang groaned.

“It will make me feel better knowing I researched everything I could,” Cooper leaned on the wall. “That I was prepared for anything that might go wrong.”

Mirage and Boomerang exchanged a look.

Hardwire tilted his head sympathetically, “I don’t think any report we read would’ve prepared us for what General Merick did to us.”

“Really? Because the men at 79’s all acted like they saw it coming,” Cooper sighed, “when we arrested him, he didn’t resist. He just looked at me as I cuffed him and said he didn’t do anything wrong. He was weeding out the imperfects.”

“Don’t take what he says seriously,” Boomerang said, “he wasn’t right in the head.”

“I know.” Cooper said, but how can you trust she’s not the same?

Mirage stood up, “I’m heading to bed, before we get dragged into something on no sleep.”

“Right behind you.” Boomerang hopped up. “G’night, Droid Whisper. G’night, Coop.”

“Goodnight,” Hardwire called.

Cooper just waved as he scrolled to the top.

There’s got to be something in here that we just skimmed over.

“Hey, Cooper?” Hardwire said once the door shut.

“Hmm?” Cooper started reading.

“Please don’t be too hard on her,” Hardwire stood up, “she’s been through a lot. I’m going to go shower, you can sit down at the desk if you want.”

“Thanks.” Cooper moved over to his desk, sitting in the chair.

After hearing the water start, his gaze shifted to the notes on Hardwire’s desk.

There was a handwritten note, not in the Commander’s or any of his brothers’ hand.

He tilted his head, getting a better look.

“I promise I will never abandon you, my dear Commander.”

Cooper read it again, then noticed another one.

And another one.

There were little notes of encouragement all over his desk written by her hand.

“You can always talk to me, Hardwire.”

“Thank you for giving me a chance.”

“You settled down when I started playing with your hair. It was cute.”

“I won’t let you down, Commander.”

“Please don’t be mad, I wrote all these notes.”

Cooper groaned, turning his back to the desk, “stop making me like you, Trix.”

****

“Up and at ‘em.” Coyote shook Fang’s shoulder, jolting him awake.

He sat up in his bunk, seeing his brother in his gear with a few bunks empty.

“Why’d you wake me?” Fang ran his hand over his face. “I’m tired.”

“Would you prefer I go get that thing you forgot last night myself?” Coyote asked, with mischievous grin.

Fang smiled, thinking of last night.

Technically it wasn’t a date, but she technically said that I’m her boyfriend.

He got out of his bunk, “can you believe it?”

“That you forgot a piece of your armor?” Coyote teased, “yes.”

“Not that,” Fang chuckled. “You know?”

Coyote smirked, “yes, I know. I believe it.”

Fang got everything on, except that missing piece and followed Coyote out.

In the hall, they saw Juliette talking to the pilots.

CT-2843 was especially animated today, practically bouncing as he spoke with the biggest smile.

Coyote stopped at the group, “and pray tell, what’s got you so jittery this morning?”

“These two came up with my name,” 2843 happily announced, “from now on, I will only answer to that name.”

“Which is?” Coyote turned to Juliette and Cosmos.

“Squirrel.” They both stated.

“I love it!“ Squirrel declared.

“I’m already getting a headache,” Goose rubbed his head. “Please don’t tell me I don’t talk this much.”

Tracks rolled his eyes smiling at his co-pilot.

“Don’t sass me, Tracks,” Goose held up his hand, “not until I have my caf.”

“Well, Squirrel,” Max wrapped an arm around him. “Should we go celebrate this over some grub?”

“Only if you tell us about your honey on Coruscant,” Frenzy teased looping his arm with Tag.

“Yeah, tell all your single siblings about your partner,” Squirrel snickered, “what’s his or her name?”

“Just pick a pronoun, it doesn’t matter,” Max rolled his eyes, smiling, “their name is Tay.”

“Ohhhhh…” all the pilots nodded understandably.

I’m so confused. Fang watched them all jump into a new conversation. Did I miss something?

As the pilots began drifting to the mess, Juliette’s gaze turned to him.

He was too busy pretending he was more focused on the pilots, he didn’t realize her hair was down.

Her dark blonde hair went down to her mid-back in waves held back by a blue headband.

“You look pretty,” escaped Fang’s lips.

She smiled, “thank you.”

Chuckling, Cosmos turned to Coyote, “would you like to join our table?”

Coyote walked ahead with him, “sure.”

Juliette stepped closer to Fang, hands behind her back, “I have something of yours.”

Fang smiled, “oh? Do you now?”

She held up his missing rerebrace.

“May I have that back?” Fang leaned down.

“Ask nicely,” she teased.

Fang checked to see the coast was clear, then placed his forehead to her’s, “pretty please?”

She closed her eyes, giggling, “okay.”

He took the rerebrace from her hands, brushing his fingers under chin, “thank you, sweetheart .”

She opened her eyes, pulled away covering her face.

Fang wrapped an arm around her, bringing her back into him. “Come on, sit next to me in the mess.”

“Of course,” Juliette held her hand to her cheek.

“You always blush,” Fang teased, “you can’t fight it, Juliette.”

“Shh, you’re making it worse.” She turned her head away from him.

Fang smiled, rubbing her arm, “oh, Juliette.”

#caribou stories #caribou originals #caribou ocs #star wars #star wars the clone wars #952nd #juliette trix #commander hardwire #fang #coyote #sergeant cooper #corporal keks #arc trooper mirage #boomerang #cosmos #tracks

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just-a-jellyfish · 2 years

Text

The Owl House spoilers!!! Spoilers for Clouds on the Horizon

▪️

Do you think one of the CATS is a spy for Belos? In clouds on the horizon Kikimora already knew what the CATS’ plan was and that Eda was at the Day of Unity, although she didn’t seem to know the specifics as she thought Luz would be there as well. It could be that the Emperor’s coven thought that Eda would try to do something however she seemed to know about the Raine disguise which means that it is likely that someone is a spy even if they might not know it (I will elaborate later), especially as she said something along the lines of having eyes on the Owl Lady.

So, who could be the spy?

1. Raine

Unfortunately this seems to be the most likely option if someone is spying on the CATS, however Raine might not know they are doing this if this is the case.

Firstly it does seem strange that Raine would suggest that Eda should disguise herself as them and get a coven sigil. Something that even if she doesn’t have magic anymore she was always against doing. There is also the fact that when Eda used her curse in the past- to stop others from using their magic it almost killed her. Before this Raine had been very against using Eda to stop the Day of Unity, probably because of this. Although it could be argued that they now know how much Eda wants to be involved in this even if it will put her in danger, and this plan is the best way of preventing the DoU.

They also seemed very worried when Eda was about to get the Bard sigil meaning that they may know something is wrong but may not be able to do anything about it. Why? Maybe when they were talking to Eda on the crystal ball thing Terra saw Eda before she was able to put her disguise back on, or she’s already suspected that Raine might be up to something again and maybe managed to make them drink the tea. If this is the case they might know that the EC know about the plan but are unable to do anything about it. Or Raine may think that the plan was a good idea in order to stop the Day of Unity and not know that they are being used due to the possible effects of Terra’s spell. The worry might just be because they are worried about the plan and feel Eda getting a sigil is wrong. This means that Raine might think they are doing what’s best because of the spell, not realising they are putting Eda in even more danger.

Again though, it could just be because they are worried that the plan won’t work and Terra may have no idea that they were only pretending that the tea worked on them.

2. Darius

Tbh I think this one is a bit less likely just because unlike Raine, he never got caught going against the EC. This would mean that he’d be at less of a risk of being found out and put under a spell.

Furthermore, in the past he’s been shown to not agree with Belos by doing things such as giving Hunter a scroll. Also in Hollow Mind he seems genuinely worried for Hunter when he finds out he went inside Belos’ mind. While this could be an act, actions like this make it less likely- but not impossible- that he could be the spy.

3. Eberwolf

This is the one I have the least evidence on either for or against but it is still a possibility. We don’t know very much about Eberwolf except for the fact that like Raine and Darius he seems to be against the Day of Unity. There isn’t much to go off of to say he is the spy but at the same time we really don’t know that much about him to rule him out entirely either.

4. No one

Alternatively the EC might have found a way to spy on the CATS without anyone knowing. Maybe they have tracking devices or can even spy through sigils as some have already speculated. This is also very likely and tbh I kinda hope this is the case since it would mean no one betrayed the CATS and that Raine isn’t under any kind of spell.

5. Next week’s episode comes out and it was someone else entirely

It could be anyone or no one, I guess we’ll just have to wait until next week’s episode to find out. Please tell me if there’s something I missed and who you think is the spy if you think there is one.

#the owl house #the owl house spoilers #clouds on the horizon #covens against the throne #eda clawthorne #raine whispers #kikimora #terra snapdragon #toh eberwolf #toh darius

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vinbee631 · 9 months

Text

5 - Opening Up, Letting the Day In, Pour You a Cup and Say “Hello, How Ya Been?”

Prodigal Sons and Daughters Alike

The rest of the week went similarly. The boys settled into the earlier wake up time and spent about as much time as they could sitting in on early classes or watching performances.

And, when they weren’t doing that, they had the rest of the week to get to know each other.

Chapter title song from Waitress (or Opening Up by Sara Bareilles if that's more your style, I guess). No comment on this chapter, it gets interesting very very soon though!

or maybe it's all uninteresting and I live in a river in egypt

“I don’t think it’s fair that we get only a week to tell each other thirteen years of stories,” Remus complained. He’d mentioned it before, but every so often, he was reminded of the cruel injustice and had to make his displeasure known.

“Well, it’s not like we can’t talk to each other once classes really start. Sure, there will be other stuff to do, but we’ll probably stilll see each other every day. Oh, and we’ll get to meet Virgil! Hopefully,” Patton added.

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot about that” Roman chimed in. “I wonder if he lives really far away or something. Honestly, I don’t really care that much, but I do wanna get to know him.”

“True, though I am kinda sad we missed out on the chance to talk to him this week, and that he’s missing out on all the early stuff. It’s been really fun! I’ve already started working on side projects with some of the kids in my classes.”

“I agree,” Logan said. “It also puts him at a bit of a disadvantage. He won’t know his way around the school, nor where is classes are. I suppose it is like regular high school in that regard, but it is unfortunate given he had the opportunity to not experience the infamiliarity so suddenly.”

“That was a very roundabout way of saying that you already care about this kid, but pop off I guess,” Remus teased.

Logan rolled his eyes at that, but didn’t fall for the bait of his teasing. He had gotten into several quite crude renditions of “debates,” all of which he was in the firm belief that he had won, not that Remus would ever admit to such defeat.

…It would be infuriating if Logan didn’t find them to be quite entertaining.

But today, he was not in the mood for another one of those discussions, so he kept his thoughts to himself, tuning back in as the others continued to speculate about him.

“I seriously can’t believe there’s nothing Dr. Picani could have told us about him. Although, he did say if we had any questions, we could go to him, but that seems like far too much effort on my part,” Janus drawled.

“That is soemthing to think about, though. Like, he didn’t give any explanation. Virigl is entiled to his own privacy and whatnot, but like… I can’t imagine he would care about keeping it private unless something bad happened.”

“Privacy and whatnot,” Remus teased under his breath, “you’re really selling it there.”

“To be fair, Emile probably knows like- how much is a good amount of information for us to know. And, I mean if you don’t wanna get up and go to his office to talk to him, we are able to text him, Janus,” Patton pointed out.

“And yet, I’m going to continue to be lazy, out of spite. I live off of the stuff,” Janus declared, smirking.

Patton shrugged, although he did spot Janus not-so-subtly hiding his phone behind his legs during lunch that afternoon, so he suspected that he was being dramatic, unsurprisingly. ‘

Aside from Virgil’s absence, he was very happy to be bonding with all his roommates already. He hadn’t necessarily been worried about not getting along, but he loved making new friends, especially from places he’d never been before.

As a kid, it was just him, at this school with his parents, or at home with his grandparents. He was homeschooled, so friends were few and far between, and mostly online. It was enough to keep him happy, but he had been looking forward to actually, y’know- attending this school and making friends with the kids in his grade.

So far, he’d only really had success with his roomates.

The kids in his track were very friendly! But when they found out his dad taught some of their classes… they ended up acting just a little differently around him. It got even worse when they figured out his mom worked in a different section of the school.

It didn’t change by that much, and certainly not to a noticeable degree to any outsider, but Patton could see it. He could tell they measured what they said around him, didn’t complain about school around him even when they had complaints, and quite honestly, avoided striking conversation with him in general.

But, when lunchtime rolled around, he could rush down to the cafeteria and greet his dormmates, who couldn’t care less if his mom taught at their school.

…Probably because most of them didn’t know, but that was besides the point!

Okay, all of them didn’t know. There was a reason for that, though. Patton didn’t normally like keeping secrets, but if he lost the chance at another perfectly good friendship, he might lose it a little.

The others didn’t seem to mind, at any rate, when he avoided questions about his family. Janus was open about his experience in a single parent household, and he’d told Patton directly that he didn’t owe them any information he didn’t want to share.

So that was… comforting, to say the least.

But anyway, he was getting way off track! If he kept worrying about something he, frankly, shouldn’t focus on at all, he was going to space out through the entirely of lunch and miss time with his friends!

They were talking about something he wasn’t all that familar with, some show he hadn’t watched, but it was more than nice to sit and listen to the twins ramble back and forth with Logan and Janus about the most important bits and the best relationships.

As Patton zoned back in, trying to figure out which season they were laying out and criticizing now, Janus caught his gaze and ticked an eyebrow up, almost asking with his eyes if Patton was alright.

He smiled gratefully and nodded, then gave up and asked Roman what the heck they were going on about anyway because he was so very lost.

And yeah, even with secrets, he was sure they were going to stay friends for a long time!

…

The closer they got to the real start of classes, the more anxious the boys became. Of course, the idea of actually going to class was starting to seem a bit daunting, but anticipating Virgil’s arrival had not gotten any easier.

The last day of their first week arrived far too quickly, and when they all woke up almost annoyingly early, Roman included, the boys realized they needed a bit bigger of a distraction than just attending more fake classes.

When they started brainstorming what to do, Roman excitedly told the others about a poster he’d seen about a nature hike that was supposed to start about an hour after breakfast.

Janus had many complaints about the matter, but his vote was discounted when everyone else decisively started getting ready for their miniature, supervised adventure!

Summers in Florida were a nightmare worse than hell itself some days, and it had rained the night before. The boys expected it to be miserably and muggy, but by some miracle the dew on the ground left the air pleasantly cool around them.

They arrived a bit earlier than everyone else, but the teachers were already there, so it was probably fine.

“Heyy, our first hikers! Good to see y’all! We have nametags if you can read ‘em, to save time instead of doing boring icebreakers, but you can introduce yourselves if ya want!”

Patton grinned, taking the opportunity to introduce himself first, and the others followed allong in various states of excitement (with Janus being at the opposite end of the spectrum from Patton).

“Well, it’s good to see you! We’re not supposed to start for about another ten minutes, so you can just hang out while we wait for some more freshies!”

Remus very elegantly flopped into the grass at the words, ignoring the morning dew that was soaking into his shorts. “Sooo, are you guys ready for tomorrow?” Roman rolled his eyes at his brother. “You’re getting wet stains on your ass, but yes! Very. I’ve already been learning a lot in dance class this week, and now we get to actually start class! It’s like, I didn’t think things could get better, but they can!”

The others agreed, and for the first time in the whole week, they stood (or sat, in Remus’ case) together in silence as the conversation trailed off into nothing.

Even Remus, who normally detested silence, could appreciate the moment for a little while. It wasn’t like they had anything pressing to talk about, and there was a lot to think about today. They could get back into talking once the hike started.

Over the next ten minutes, the small group of five roommates and the two chaperones turned into about 35 students, which led to them calling another supervising teacher and starting about two minutes later than they said.

“Alright, now that we’ve gotten that all sorted, good morning! I’m happy to see so many kids interested in getting some movement in this early! In case the nametags are a bit too far away for y’all to see, I’m Toby, and these are our other two walking buddies for the day!”

Remus missed the rest of the introduction, but it didn’t particularly matter, as they started walking right after that.

The kids had the option to walk closer to the front of the group, with the teacher that was going to narrate the hike? Or something? Maybe the plant types, Remus wasn’t sure. He opted to stay with the rest of his friends, closer to the back, so they could talk to each other or walk without the interruption of narration about plants.

Remus ended up in a walking pair with Janus. Apparently, Roman had run into one of his friends from the dance track, and Remus was more than happy to let them walk together.

The only problem was, Janus did not look particularly excited to be there.

“Hey, you good?” He asked. “I mean, I know you were the least excited to join us, but is this really that awful for you? Cuz if it is, I’d be more than happy to- uh, not be here, with you, if you want.”

Janus chuckled slightly at his stuttering. “No, it’s more than alright. Sure, I’m not the biggest fan of physical activity, but I believe I shall live.”

“Is there a reason for that? I mean, if you wanna talk about it. I know there are tons of people that just don’t like exercise, but you’re staring at the trail like it killed your cat or something.”

“Well, I’m more of a snake person…” Janus started to deflect, but for some reason, stopped himself. “But, I suppose, if you wouldn’t mind listening to me rant, I could.”

“Go for it! Much better than the nature junk the others are talking about in the front. I think I might die of boredom if I had to listen to someone talk about the eighteen different types of fucking trees we’re walking past.”

Janus laughed outright at that. “Fair enough. I suppose, well, it’s not a big deal, but I have asthma. It’s not serious, and I have my inhaler on me, please do not freak out. I simply have… a complicated history, with people, especially gym teachers, forcing me to do things they think I can handle when I physically cannot. It is… frustrating, to say the least.”

Remus winced in sympathy. “Gym teachers suck ass, I’d beat them up for you.”

Janus snorted involuntarily. “As… entertaining ast hat would be, definitely not necessary. How many supposed gym teachers could you take in a fight, anyway?”

“Oh, are we talking all at once or in rounds? Because depending on stature and the timing, it really depends. I could maybe take two of the stereotypical out of shape gym teachers at once, but I’m not very tall, so it depends,” he replied easily.

“Have you… thougth about, how many gym teachers you can fight?”

“Oh, I think about fighting all kinds of things!” And Remus was off, chatting away about the things he seemed to think about, possibly a bit too much, in his free time.

As they walked, Remus’ stream of thoughts kept Janus moving, laughing past a barely noticeable ache in his lungs. Surprisingly enough, he didn’t even need to take a break during their walk.

He wasn’t sure if it was merely a placebo effect or not, but if his friend’s excited rants were a substitute for his inhaler, Janus would listen to him any day of the week with a smile.

…Well, perhaps it was closer to a smirk, but that wasn’t the saying, now was it?

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