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expectingtofly · 3 years

Text

What It Means to Love, 3k

established dean/cas, hurt/comfort, post 15x20, human!cas

day 2 of @thiscastielhasflown and i's follower celebration

prompt: hurt/comfort

“Dean, I am perfectly fine, I—” Cas paused, face scrunching up, then he sneezed before he could finish his sentence.

Dean took a step backwards. “Dude, gross! Seriously? Sneeze into your elbow. That’s like preschool 101.”

“Oh, then it’s so great that I went to preschool,” Cas said, managing to sound sarcastic even with his nose stuffed up. Dean winced as he wiped his nose on the sleeve of his trenchcoat. “It’s not like I haven’t been a human for only three months.”

Right. “Yeah, well, guess this is the perfect introduction." How the hell did Cas manage to still look so adorable slumped against the kitchen counter, clothes wrinkled and nose red? “Welcome to humanity, you have a cold. Here, stop that.” He couldn't watch Cas wipe his nose on his sleeve again. They didn’t have tissues in the kitchen, but he grabbed a napkin and handed it to him. Dutifully, Cas took it and blew his nose. “What you need is to get in some comfier clothes, lay down, and get some sleep.”

Violating the few feet he'd put between them to stay clear of the germs, he stepped closer to loosen Cas' tie. Cas let him, saying, "I can still help research—"

"No, no." Cas leveled him with a glare, but it had lost its bite now that Dean knew he couldn't strike him dead with his angel grace. Okay, it was still pretty menacing. "I'm trying to save your ass. Sam will kill you if you sneeze on his laptop or precious books. Come on, take off the coat, you gotta be burning up."

He was helping Cas slip it off when Sam walked into the kitchen. “Ew, gross," he complained, covering his eyes with his hand, and Dean realized he was essentially undressing Cas in front of the kitchen island. "Get a room."

"Grow up," Dean said, draping Cas' coat and tie over his arm. Okay, so maybe they’d given Sam a reason to be on-guard now, but, "It's not what it looks like."

Sam lowered his hand, then frowned at Cas. "Woah. What happened to you?"

"I'm sick," Cas answered, as if that wasn't obvious enough by his glassy eyes and disheveled appearance.

"Well, uh, wash your hands," Sam said, stepping back as Cas started for the door, Dean following. "Don't wanna spread any germs. And try to stay out of the library."

"Told you," Dean whispered to Cas as they went down the hallway. In their room, he gestured for Cas to sit on the bed as he rummaged through their dresser. “T-shirt and sweatpants,” he said, handing them over.

Cas unbuttoned his white button-down which was identical to the dress shirts he always wore as an angel. Apparently old habits died hard—in this case, an affinity for business casual. Actually, maybe Cas getting sick and out of his old clothes was a good thing. Dean didn't know the last time the trenchcoat had been washed.

Collecting Cas' shirt and pants, he said, “I’ll get rid of these disease-ridden clothes.” He thought he caught Cas rolling his eyes as he pulled Dean’s sweatshirt over his head. "You watch TV or something, I’ll go see if we have cold medicine.”

After starting a load of laundry and raiding the medicine cabinets in the bathroom and cabinets in the kitchen, he returned to the room to find Cas sitting cross-legged under the covers of the bed, remote in his hands.

“Here, you go,” Dean said, handing over a warm mug. Ancient Aliens played on the TV; one of Cas' favorite pastimes was refuting every crazy claim and theory the show presented with his own recollections of the ancient times. “Sam said this tea will help. He ran out to get some medicine.”

Eagerly, Cas took the mug from him and took a large gulp, then coughed. "Ow. It's hot."

"Drink it slowly, idiot."

Cas took a more hesitant sip, then squinted up at him. "This tea is incredibly flavorless."

Dean snorted. "’Cause your nose’s clogged up. And you probably burned your tongue. Another joy of being human."

Groaning, Cas dropped his head back on the pillows and stared at the ceiling. "Why is being human so difficult?"

Dean inwardly winced at that. Or thought he did so inwardly, but his expression must've revealed something because Cas glanced over at him, then straightened up, nearly spilling his tea. "Dean, I didn't mean anything by that."

Clearing his throat, Dean shrugged and sat down on the other side of the bed. "No, it's fine. You're right, being human sucks."

"And I wouldn't trade it for the world," Cas said.

"Yeah, yeah. I know."

Cas seemed about to say more, but then he sneezed. Into his elbow this time. Progress.

Ancient Aliens finished, and they got halfway through an episode of UFO Hunters before Cas started to nod off. Dean took the mug from him, and his eyes fluttered open, head jerking up. "I'm fine," he said.

"I know you're tired because you missed them saying aliens created the lost city of Atlantis."

Cas sniffled. "That's ridiculous. Everyone knows Atlantis was formed by—" He was interrupted by a yawn, and Dean made a mental note to return to that subject later.

“Come on, take a nap.”

“I am not a small child, Dean,” Cas protested, but he settled down anyway. Dean couldn’t resist adjusting the covers, essentially tucking him in. He wasn’t trying to baby him, but it was second nature seeing how miserable the guy looked. Turning off the lights, he went to the door. "You good? Need anything else?"

"No." Cas squinted one eye open to look at Dean over the blanket pulled up to his shoulders, and, fuck, if he wasn't still the most beautiful man Dean had ever seen, even sick as a dog. "Thank you."

A tiny alarm went off in Dean's brain about germs, but he returned to the bed to kiss Cas on the forehead anyway. True love, and all that. God, he was getting sappy in his old age.

Cas looked marginally better when he woke up from his nap. If marginally better meant pillow hair and pillow lines on his cheek. Well-rested, at least. He swallowed down the cold medicine Sam had brought home, complaining that he could taste enough to know the flavor was not, quote, "similar to anything occurring organically in nature."

"Whaddya wanna eat?" Dean asked him as he drained his glass of water. "And don't say PB and J," he added before Cas could speak.

Cas set his glass down on the nightstand and slid further down under the covers. "Anything that won't make my throat hurt more."

"My, uh, mom used to make me soup when I was sick."

"That sounds wonderful."

"Whatcha making?" Sam asked, coming into the kitchen. He lifted the lid of the pot on the stove and Dean snapped him with the towel.

"That's for Cas, back off."

"Wow," Sam said, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. "Look at you."

"Look at me what?" Setting aside the pot lid, he scraped the celery he'd been dicing from the cutting board into the pot.

Sam shrugged. "Taking care of Cas, making dinner, you're almost domestic."

Dean turned red and scrambled furiously for a comeback. "Yeah, and you're, you're still a little shit." Nailed it.

Sam laughed. "Wasn't an insult. Just meant, I don't know. Different for you, I guess."

Dean eyed him, stirring the soup. "Don't have much of a choice. Poor guy just turned human and he's already going through it."

"I think he's dealt with worse than a cold before."

"Yeah, well, wish he didn't have to deal with any of it." Any of it meant plenty. Between Dean’s own fuckups, world apocalypses, and near-death and actual death experiences, Cas had been through the ringer several times over. And now he was human—which, by all counts, wasn’t the worst thing he’d been through, but it wasn’t ideal. It’d been a rough transition, anyway.

Cas seemed better recently, though, since getting somewhat used to being human. And things were going well between them. Getting sick was just one tiny wrinkle compared to everything they’d been through, right?

He stared at the soup and startled when Sam straightened off the counter with a comment that Jack was out with friends, he was leaving for Eileen’s, have fun giving Cas a sponge bath. Dean flipped him off as he headed out the door.

When the soup was finished, he ladled a bowl full and returned to the bedroom. Cas looked up from his phone when Dean entered with the bowl of steaming soup. “Hear from Claire?” Dean asked, nudging the door shut with his foot.

“She says she and Kaia have almost closed up the case." He set his phone aside. “They’ll be able to visit soon.”

“You tell her you’re sick?”

“She was incredibly non-sympathetic—thank you." Cas took the bowl from him. “She seemed to find it amusing that I once ruled garrisons and now can’t go five minutes without sneezing.”

Dean tensed, hoping Cas wasn’t hurt by the comparison, but Cas didn’t look offended. “Sounds like her.”

"Yes.” He breathed in the steam coming from the bowl. “This smells incredible.”

"Family recipe," Dean joked, sitting down next to him. "Well, someone's family. Straight from some blog online. Think it's pretty close to what my mom would make." He watched Cas pick up his spoon, and added, "Don't tell Sam." He'd never hear the end of it if Sam knew he was reading mommy blogs.

"Your secret is safe with me."

Dean picked up the remote as Cas ate, wondering if he should give Claire a piece of his mind. Sure, Cas was pretty easy-going about the whole giving up his grace thing, but no need to rub it in his face. Becoming human had to feel pretty pitiful after ages of being an angel.

He was trying to make it better where he could, though. “You wanna watch a movie tonight? I'll let you pick because you're bedridden."

"I am not," Cas protested, though he looked more than a little pleased at the idea of getting to choose. Dean braced himself for whatever ridiculous romance or musical Cas insisted on watching now—to date, he'd been subjected to La La Land , the ending of which had reduced Cas to tears for the rest of the night; Pride and Prejudice, okay not too bad, though he'd never admit it; and You’ve Got Mail, dammit not bad enough for him to hate either.

Instead of suggesting a movie, though, Cas said, "You're very caring, Dean."

"Uh." Dean turned from cycling through the movie options on the TV to look at Cas. He felt himself turn red under the look Cas was giving him, head tilted, that fond almost-smile he got. "Yeah, uh. What I do."

"Yes," Cas agreed. "It is what you do. You're very good at taking care of others."

"Oh, God, don't start that." By that, he meant the long compliments Cas so shamelessly gave him now, like he'd been storing them up for a long time and was finally able to hand them out. It was like the dam had broken that night when Billie and the Empty—

But he didn't want to think about that. Not when all the events since that day had led to Cas now sitting in bed blowing his nose, the trashcan by the bed overflowing with tissues. Poor bastard; he'd gone through one whole Kleenex box already.

"I'm only going to stop because talking hurts too much," Cas told him, tossing a tissue at the trashcan and missing sorely. Dean grimaced.

They nearly got through Mama Mia before Cas dozed off, head resting on Dean’s shoulder. It wasn’t the most comfortable position and Dean’s arm was half-asleep, but he refused to move. The mere fact that they were sitting together in bed, pressed against each other, was still enough to send him into shock anytime he thought about it too much. Cas—a literal former angel—had fallen in love with him. It was almost too good to be true.

But Cas was currently slumped against him, drooling on his shoulder, so he guessed it really was true.

As the credits rolled, he turned off the TV and touched Cas’ forehead with the back of his hand. Not as warm as before. At his touch, Cas blinked awake.

“It’s over already?”

“Whaddya mean, already? I just had to sit through two hours of singing and dancing.” It hadn’t been that torturous, but he couldn’t admit that—he had a reputation to uphold. Straightening, Cas rolled his eyes. “Feel any better?"

Cas’ expression turned thoughtful, as if taking stock of every physical sensation in his body, and Dean had to grin at his seriousness. He nodded. "Yes."

"Great.” He glanced at the time on the clock and realized it was later than he’d expected. “You probably wanna get some rest.”

Cas nodded with a yawn. "You don't have to sleep here if you don't want to."

Dean froze in the middle of pulling back the covers, mind immediately spinning out. "What?" They'd only started sharing a room a month ago, oh God, he'd known it was too good to be true, Cas was sick of him—

"I want you to," Cas said quickly, as if sensing Dean's downward spiraling. "I just don't want you to get sick."

Oh. Oh. Feeling a little sheepish for immediately jumping to the worst conclusions—one of his greatest talents, if he did say so himself—he shook his head. "Nah, I have a great immune system."

Cas' expression turned guilty and Dean narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"About that..." Cas started slowly. Dean gave him a look. "Well, uh... Your immune system isn't quite as healthy as you think. I've been giving it a boost for the past several years, every time you started to get sick."

"What?" Looking back, it was pretty remarkable that he'd never gotten even a common cold with all the other shit they dealt with. "Fuck."

"Sorry."

"No, don't apologize. I should be thanking you. So, uh. Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Of course Cas had been taking care of him for years, Dean thought, when they settled in bed and he turned off the lights. Cas told him he was caring, but it was Cas who was the caring one. He’d sacrificed his life for him, for Christ’s sake. Then gave up his grace to return to Earth because he wanted to be with Dean and Jack and Sam and everyone. The guy didn’t have a selfish bone in his body.

The thought should’ve been a comforting one, but instead he felt antsy, unable to stay still, shifting under the blankets.

Turning onto his side, he nudged Cas, whose eyes had fallen shut. With a grunt, Cas opened his eyes and looked over at him.

“You alright?” Dean asked, which wasn’t really what he wanted to say, but he wasn’t sure how to say it.

“I was when I was falling asleep,” Cas grumbled. But he shifted to face Dean. In the faint light coming from the bunker hallway, Dean could see the concern in his eyes. It sent a pang through him. Cas had given up so much, and Dean was doing all he could to make sure he never regretted it, and Cas told him all the time that he was content with his choice, but still the worry sat heavy in his stomach.

"Listen,” he started. “I just wanna let you know that being human isn’t all bad. I swear it won’t be miserable forever. I know you've been introduced to the bad shit first, but—"

"That's not true," Cas interrupted, touching Dean’s hand resting between them. Dean raised an eyebrow. "Dean, being human has been the single most rewarding experience in my entire life second only to raising Jack. It started with you rescuing me from the Empty and revealing my feelings weren't unreciprocated like I thought. I would say that's far from miserable.”

"Yeah, but you had to adjust to living without your grace, and eating food, and getting sick..."

"It's been difficult, yes. I won't lie and say I enjoy bodily functions or sneezing or headaches. But I do enjoy being with you and eating chicken soup and watching absurd TV shows. I wouldn't change this for anything. Whatever happened in our lives, it led us here. And I’m happy with where we are.” He studied Dean for a moment before asking, quieter, “Are you happy?”

“Yes, yeah, of course,” Dean hastened to say, because it was true. Fuck, it couldn’t be truer. “Of course. Just feel bad, I guess. That you gave up your grace and all that. Feel like I’ve hardly done anything.”

Castiel’s expression softened. “You’ve given me more than I could’ve ever dreamt of. And anyway, it’s not a competition, Dean. I take care of you, you take care of me. That’s what love is.”

Throwing that word around, love, still made Dean’s heart skip a beat. But it was true. He loved Cas and he’d do anything for him. The same, he knew, was true on Cas’ end.

Cas said it best, so he settled for lifting Cas’ hand and kissing his knuckles.

“I would kiss you," Cas said, smiling, "but I don’t want to get you sick.”

“Screw it," Dean said, and propped himself up on an elbow to kiss him. Then he shifted, turning over and pulling Cas’ arm to wrap around him. Even if the bastard was sick, Dean was making him be the big spoon.

"For the record,” he said, feeling Cas curl around him. “I wouldn't change anything either."

And he meant it. Even when he woke up the next morning with a sore throat and stuffed up nose. Cas—who seemed to have gotten over the worst of his cold—took only one look at him before declaring it was his turn to play doctor, throwing extra blankets at him and demanding the chicken soup recipe in a flurry of activity.

He’d take care of Cas, and Cas would take care of him. It sounded like a good life, Dean thought, settling back against the pillows with a smile. He wouldn't change a thing.

#j&kcreatorfest #destiel fic #fluff #hurt/comfort #human!cas #established dean/cas #post 15x20 #destiel #cas likes watching romances and musicals i decided for this fic #and history channel shows too #dean and cas' love language is forcing each other to watch shows and movies the other dislikes (or pretends to dislike)#expectingtofly writes

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chickwiththepurpleguitar · 3 years

Note

It is I, here to Officially Request™ absolutely chaos All Named Characters Molina Family Board Game Night because honestly? The chaos needs to be freed.

THERE'S SO MUCH CHAOS I'M NOT SORRY.

Have the official sequel to this fic because when @screamin-amuseum requested the first part as "the whole gang + boardgame" I took that to mean All Named Characters playing board games and so here's that continuation. It's so unnecessarily long. It's so unnecessarily angsty??? TW for mentions of Trevor with an eating disorder, nothing graphic though.

I don't know what else to say. This is really chaotic. I can't write scenes with more than two people in them and yet this fic has 13. Hope you all enjoy.

Read on ao3 here:

Unfortunately, the Molinas’ extensive board game collection does not actually include Pretty Pretty Princess (it was just a tad bit before Julie’s time).

But on the bright side, she knows someone they can borrow it from. Even if Luke’s not happy about it.

“Why’d you have to invite him?” he complains the second Julie gets off the phone with Nick.

“Because—” Julie barely spares Luke a glance as she passes him on the way to the living room. “We’re borrowing his little sister’s board game.”

“So? That doesn’t mean he has to play it with us!”

Julie rolls her eyes. “Luke, are you seriously still jealous of him?”

Luke lets out an indignant squawk. “I am not jealous . I just don’t like him!” He poofs out and back in again to cut Julie off in the doorway, and she stops out of instinct, never quite sure these days if she’ll end up walking through the boys or into them. “Julie, in case you’ve forgotten, we’re talking about a kid who was literally possessed by Caleb five minutes ago. And you want us to hang out with him? You want to bring him into your house? Where you live? To play Pretty Pretty Princess? ”

Julie gives him the most exasperated look she can muster, trying to ignore the smile threatening to tug at her lips. “Luke. First of all, Nick’s already been to my house, so that argument is invalid. Second, he’s not possessed by Caleb anymore, and the fact that he used to be is only more reason for us to offer him some extra friendship, I’m sure he needs it. And third, I already invited him, he’s on his way, and not even your pouting and puppy dog eyes can change that, so don’t even bother trying.”

Of course, Luke immediately breaks out the pout and the puppy dog eyes, but Julie doesn’t let herself so much as look at him. She pushes past him and continues through to the kitchen, shaking her head in amusement as Luke’s annoyed grumbling fades out behind her.

Her dad’s at the kitchen counter, just hanging up his own phone. He turns when Julie enters and offers her a small smile. “Takeout’s on its way. And your tía’s coming, with her own set of dice, so be prepared for those to be loaded.”

Julie giggles. “Well, I called Flynn and they’re gonna bring some sodas and snacks, and Nick’s bringing Pretty Pretty Princess since the boys were so excited to play it. It’s still cool that he comes, too, right?”

“Of course, mija.” Her dad looks at her for a second, and then away, busies himself with wiping down the perfectly-clean counter. “Did you, uh… Did you maybe want to invite Carrie to join us?”

Julie sighs. “Dad, you know me and Carrie aren’t friends anymore.”

“No, yeah, I know.” He scrubs harder at an invisible speck of dirt. “I just thought it might be a nice gesture.”

Despite everything, Julie finds herself considering it. Sure, she and Carrie are still decidedly not friends , but… they’re not quite enemies anymore, either. It’s hard to be enemies with someone who helped you save your shared ex-love interest from an evil jazz-singing magician ghost. Carrie knows about the guys now and didn’t expose Julie and the Phantoms as a fraud, and she hasn’t been as actively mean to Julie and Flynn at school the past few months.

Maybe someday, the three of them will be able to reconcile, officially. Julie might even want to. But that doesn’t mean she’s ready to have Carrie in her house so soon, doesn’t mean she wants to include Carrie in their first family game night without her mom.

“Maybe another time,” she says, offering her dad a soft smile so he knows she means it.

He smiles back, and there’s more relief and happiness in his eyes than Julie would’ve expected under the circumstances, leaving Julie to wonder why her dad would care about her relationship with Carrie Wilson so much.

An hour later, everything’s all set up, and all the guests—ghost and human alike—have arrived. They’re all spread out across the various couches and floor space in Julie’s living room, all ten of them—Julie, her dad, Carlos, Tía Victoria, Luke, Alex, Reggie, Willie, Flynn, and Nick. The four ghosts are all sharing one couch, the four Molinas another, while Flynn and Nick lounge on the floor across the room because the ghosts still make Nick a little uncomfortable (though Julie’s unsure if that’s because of his stint with Caleb or because Luke won’t stop glaring at him).

Knowing Game Night, the seating arrangements won’t stay as they are for long, as the various games require space or privacy or the occasional team-up. Julie’s certain by the end of the night, her friends and family will all be mingling and getting along.

Since there are so many of them, they can’t follow the usual Game Night rules—everyone picks one game and they play through them all. If they tried, they’d be here all night, and half of them have to go to school tomorrow. So instead, the plan is this: Everyone’s name will go in a hat. Whoever wins each game picks a name out of the hat, and that person gets to pick the next game. They’ll play a total of five, or until midnight, whichever comes first.

The only caveat to this strategy is that they’re playing Pretty Pretty Princess first, and since that was technically Alex’s choice, his name’s not going in the hat (a fact Alex seems perfectly fine with).

Game Number One isn’t nearly as much of a disaster as Julie kind of expected it to be. It’s only a four player game, so they play in teams of two and three: Luke, Reggie, and Julie playing for the purple jewelry; Alex, Willie, and Flynn playing for the pink; Nick and Carlos for green; and Dad and Tía for blue. The only fight that breaks out is when Luke takes the black ring on purpose and then refuses to put it back the next turn; otherwise, the teams work together surprisingly well.

Somehow, despite Reggie’s earlier insistence that Alex is a PPP master, the adults win, and then they insist on splitting their winning jewelry between them even though it’s all sized to fit five-year-olds.

Just as Dad and Tía are celebrating their victory, and Julie and Carlos are having a telepathic brother-sister conversation about how their aunt must have rigged it, the doorbell rings.

“Ooh, I bet that’s the pizza,” Dad says, hauling himself to his feet. He keeps one hand on the tiny plastic crown on his head so it doesn’t fall off.

He looks ridiculous, between the crown, the singular clip-on earring, and the ring just barely stuck on the end of his pinky finger, but Julie manages to hold back her laughter as she stands and says, “I’ll help carry.”

Her dad beats her to the door, only because Reggie holds her back and tries to convince her not to let Luke have any pizza (to which Luke gives another indignant squawk and immediately starts bickering), so by the time Julie catches up with him, Dad’s already got the front door thrown open, and whatever’s on the porch to greet him has left him staring, wide-eyed, open-mouthed, and pale.

Like he’s seen a ghost or something.

“Dad?” Julie starts to say, but the word dies in her throat as she steps into view of the open door and sees none other than Carrie Wilson standing on her front porch.

Carrie looks nervous, and just as pale, as she stares back at Julie’s father, a clutch purse held in her white-knuckled hands.

Carrie says something, quietly enough that Julie thinks she might have imagined it, that sounds suspiciously like, “Hi, Papi,” and then her gaze flits behind him to Julie and her eyes widen. She clears her throat, straightens her shoulders, says louder, “Mr. Molina. Julie.”

“Hi, Carrie,” Dad says after a weirdly long pause, startling like he’s been struck. “What are—I didn’t—” He breaks off and glances at Julie over his shoulder, his expression screaming, I thought you weren’t going to invite her!

I didn’t! Julie shoots back, then trains a painfully plastic smile on her definitely-not-a-friend-but-not-quite-an-enemy. “Carrie, what are you doing here?”

“Sorry to interrupt, I—didn’t realize you had company…” She glances toward the driveway next to the house, where Nick parked his car. “I can leave.”

“No, don’t—It’s okay,” Dad assures her, a little too quickly for Julie’s liking. “What’s—did you need something?”

Carrie shifts her weight awkwardly from foot to foot, looking back and forth between Julie and her dad like she wants to ask Julie to give them some privacy. Julie just plants her feet and crosses her arms over her chest. Like hell is she gonna leave Carrie alone with her dad when he’s already acting weird and she still has yet to tell them what she’s doing there.

Julie doesn’t even remember the last time Carrie Wilson stepped foot on the Molinas’ property. It’s all too weird, like Julie’s stepped out of Family Game Night and into some strange, confusing alternate universe.

“Um… Okay, so, Dad and I were at this dumb charity event at Schaefer’s, and on the way back, our car broke down.” Carrie waves a vague hand toward the street. “Gerald—our driver—called someone, but Dad doesn’t trust mechanics, and I think it’s supposed to storm later, so…” She trails off, blushes, and adds, “We were only a block or so away so I thought…”

Julie’s not sure she’s following. Her dad must catch up quicker because he says, “Oh! Oh, well—well, you’re welcome to wait out the storm here, we’ve got food coming, we’re having a little game night. Why don’t you join us?”

He turns to look at Julie, almost as an afterthought, his gaze somehow pleading and apologetic at the same time.

Whatever frustration Julie might feel at his eagerness to let Carrie interfere with their lives despite knowing how Julie feels about her is quickly snuffed out by the look on her dad’s face, and the equally anxious look on Carrie’s.

Julie doesn’t like this. She doesn’t think putting her, Flynn, Nick, and Carrie in a competitive setting together is a good idea. She really doesn’t think putting Luke, Alex, Reggie, and Trevor Wilson in a competitive setting together is a good idea. She can think of very few scenarios in which this whole night doesn’t turn into a complete and total disaster.

But reconciliation has to start somewhere, and she does, deep down, want to be Carrie’s friend again someday, wants even more to help her boys get their bandmate back.

She takes a slow, deep breath, prays she won’t regret this, and says, “Of course, Carrie. Come join us for Game Night.”

Carrie visibly relaxes, something like a real, genuine smile fluttering around her lips. “Okay. Thanks. I’ll, um—I’ll go get Dad. He wanted to wait in the car, in case you guys… turned us away…”

Awkward silence falls, and Julie can’t understand why her dad looks so sad all of a sudden, but before she can think of how to ask, Carrie spins on her high heels and starts back down the porch steps.

The second the door closes behind her, Dad says, “I’m sorry, did I overstep?”

Julie sighs. Her dad’s always been particularly good with boundaries. And she thinks part of him might miss the days when Carrie was over more often than not, playing dolls and singing with Julie and Flynn. So Julie can’t be mad. “No, it’s okay. But you get to tell the guys the pizza’s not here yet, and the guy who stole all their songs is.”

His eyes widen in horror, only adding to the absurdity of his bejeweled look, and Julie stifles another laugh as she heads back to the living room.

All things considered, it’s not nearly as much of a trainwreck as Julie thought it might be. Flynn loudly declares that she will not be on a team with Carrie under any circumstances, and the guys don’t take the Trevor news well , exactly, but a sharp look from Julie and a badly whispered promise from Willie to do some serious ghost pranking later keep them from actively pitching a fit about it.

When the Wilsons and their driver Gerald arrive, the tension in the room grows so instantly thick and awkward that Julie’s worried someone might actually explode. Carrie breaks it by stalking confidently into the room and plopping herself on the floor between Nick and Carlos like she belongs there. Gerald soon follows, claiming a chair next to Tía Victoria, and smiles politely at them all.

Only Trevor remains hovering in the doorway, pale and shaky, taking deep meditative breaths as his eyes rove across each person one at a time, lingering a little too long on Julie’s aunt, skipping over Luke entirely. Finally, he swallows, winces like it hurts, and says to Julie’s dad, “I didn’t realize you still did these.”

Julie frowns, unsure what that’s supposed to mean exactly, but her dad offers up no explanation, just waves Trevor over to sit on the couch with him. Luke lays a gentle hand on Julie’s knee, leans in close to whisper, “Hey. You okay?”

She gives him a grateful smile, nods. “Fine. How about you?”

Luke shrugs, glances over at Trevor, who’s still very purposefully not looking in their direction, and winks at Julie. “Let’s just cream this guy, shall we?”

And so, Game Night continues.

The three new guests’ names get added to the hat, and Victoria shuffles them around before pulling a slip of paper out.

“Carrie,” she reads. “You get to pick the next game.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay,” Carrie tries. “I just got here, someone else can pick.”

“Come on, Care,” Nick says, nudging her encouragingly. “Them’s the rules.”

“Your name came out of the hat,” Julie agrees, attempting a smile. It’s the closest she can get to a peace offering. “Pick a game.”

Carrie scans her face a moment, like she’s searching for any hint that Julie’s being mean or ingenuine. She must not find any, because she says, “Okay,” and gets to her feet, brushing invisible dust off her skirt. She peers into the game cabinet for a total of about five seconds before she says, “Oh my god, you still have Monopoly with the credit card readers? We are definitely playing that.”

“Dibs on banker!” Carlos shouts and jumps to his feet to dig the box out of the cabinet.

Julie grins at her little brother’s enthusiasm, and when she catches Carrie’s eye, her smile doesn’t fade.

Maybe they can do this. It’s as good a first step toward reconciliation as any, she supposes.

The pizza arrives while Carrie and Carlos are setting up the Monopoly board, so Julie and her dad bring it in and set up the stack of boxes on the kitchen island for easy access. The ghosts immediately descend on the food like a pack of rabid animals, Luke grabbing four or five slices at once and starting to stuff them in his mouth before Julie shouts, “Plates, boys! Plates!” and he deflates, grinning bashfully at her.

Once everyone who wants pizza has gotten some (Gerald takes a slice, Trevor and Carrie don’t—Julie remembers vaguely that the Wilsons were never big fans of take-out in general), they work out new teams, which leads to less bloodshed than Julie expected but takes way longer than it has any right to. Finally, they figure out a breakdown that everyone’s more or less happy with, despite now having an uneven number of players: Trevor, Gerald, Dad, and Tía; Carlos, Luke, and Reggie; Alex, Willie, and Flynn; and Carrie, Nick, and Julie.

It’s a chaotic game for sure, but no one outright attacks each other, so Julie counts it as a success. And her team wins, so.

The rest of the night goes like that, one game after another. Julie picks Willie’s name, Willie picks Mario Kart, Carlos wins. Carlos picks Gerald’s name, Gerald picks poker (“Oh my god, my driver’s a gambler,” Trevor sighs into his hands), and somehow Flynn smokes them all. For the last game, Flynn picks Luke’s name, Luke picks Candy Land because he’s actually eight years old, and Flynn and Carrie manage to eke out a victory despite being on the same team and bickering the entire game.

Luke and Trevor, also on the same team, don’t say a single word to each other, but Julie doesn’t miss how a smile tugs at Luke’s lips when Trevor makes a joke about Lord Licorice looking like their high school English teacher.

Gerald gets a call just as they’re finishing up and informs them that the broken down limo’s been towed away and one of his colleagues is there with a fresh car to take the Wilsons home.

“Perfect timing,” Dad says, clapping his hands together. “I’ll walk you out.”

Once they’re gone, Nick and Flynn soon follow. Julie thanks Nick profusely for letting them borrow his sister’s game and convinces him to take some of the leftover pizza home to his family. Tía kisses them all goodnight (including the ghosts, which leaves Reggie grinning and the rest of them bright red), and then she’s out the door too, and Carlos heads up to bed, and Willie poofs out, telling Alex they’ll catch him later, leaving just Julie alone with her Phantoms.

“That was actually really fun,” she says, leaning back into the couch.

“Next time, I think we should choose teams at the beginning and stick with them all night,” Luke suggests, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “More fun that way.”

Alex plops onto the couch on Luke’s other side. “But if we play Pretty Pretty Princess again, I’m not playing on your team, bro.”

“Yeah, man,” Reggie agrees, snuggling up under Julie’s arm. “We coulda won that game if you’d just put the black ring away. ”

“It made me look awesome!” Luke insists.

“And the purple one didn’t?”

Alex lets out a dramatic sigh as Luke and Reggie break into an argument over Julie’s head. She just rolls her eyes and tries not to giggle too audibly, though it’s hard when her boys are so lovingly silly.

When she looks up, her dad’s lingering in the doorway, watching the four of them and playing a little nervously with his hands.

Julie frowns, catches his gaze, and mouths, You okay?

He nods, smiles, but looks from her to the three ghost boys cuddled up next to her and back again. Julie instantly catches his meaning.

“Hey, guys,” she says, loud enough to be heard over Luke and Reggie’s bickering. They shut up right away. “I’m gonna help my dad clean up. Can you go wait in the studio for me, and we can rehearse a bit before I go to bed?”

“Oh, yeah,” the boys say, and “Yeah, sure, Julie,” and they all hug her and wave goodnight to her dad before disappearing with a gentle displacement of air.

Julie gets to her feet as her dad joins her in the living room. He sets his phone on top of the game cabinet and plays a Celia Cruz album her mom liked.

They work in companionable silence for a while, other than the music, counting all the cards and tokens and jewelry pieces to make sure everything’s accounted for and gets back into its proper box.

As Julie’s wrapping up the Mario Kart controllers, her dad says casually, “You have fun tonight?”

“Yeah,” she says, and finds she means it. “Yeah, you know, it wasn’t quite the same as playing with Mom, but I still had a really good time. Thanks for letting everyone come over.”

“Thank you for being such a good sport about Carrie. I know she wasn’t exactly part of your plan for how the night would go.”

“No,” Julie agrees, shutting the game cabinet. “But I kinda liked having her here. Although—can I ask you something?”

Dad grabs his phone to pause the music. “Of course, mija. What is it?”

Something’s been nagging at her all evening, but now that Julie actually has the opportunity to ask about it, she’s not quite sure how to put her question into words.

Finally, she manages, “When Mr. Wilson first got here, he said something like… like he didn’t know we still had game nights. But I don’t remember him ever playing with us when Mom was alive.”

Her dad doesn’t answer for a really long time. Julie knows him well enough to know she needs not be concerned—her dad, much more than her mom, has always needed to really take his time and think before he says anything, especially anything important. Finally, he sighs and says, “Honestly, mija… I’m not quite sure what to say. It’s not really my story to tell.” He sits on one of the couches and pats the cushion next to him. Julie joins him, hugging a throw pillow as she waits patiently for him to continue.

“Do you remember, when you were really little, Trevor and Carrie used to live with us?”

Julie’s mouth drops open. “What? No. When?”

“Only until you were about six,” Dad explains. “But for a while, we had a house together, the five and then six of us, once Carlos was born. Your mom and I, and Trevor, we all kind of raised you kids together.” He elbows her teasingly. “You used to call Trevor Daddy.”

“I definitely don’t remember that,” Julie says, eyes wide in horror.

His smile fades, face turning serious. “I think Carrie does,” he says softly, and Julie remembers when Carrie first got here tonight, how she called Julie’s dad Papi , so quietly Julie thought she’d imagined it.

“Anyway,” he continues, “before all that, before Trevor was even… Trevor … he lived with your mom and me, and he was going through a really rough time, had a lot of trouble with food because, well…”

“Because food killed his best friends…” Julie realizes.

“We used to play board games with him, after dinner, when things were hard. It kept him distracted, made it easier to keep things down. That was the real start of Molina Family Game Night.”

“Huh,” Julie breathes. “Well then, next time? I want to invite him and Carrie for real.”

Taglist: @whenweremarried @sunsethimb0s @pink-flame @penguin0613 @fighttoshine @sunsetcurvecuddles @apples-bees @reggiescrookedteeth @brightattheorpheum @queenmolina @jandthephantoms @lexilucacia @sapphossidechick @acnhaddict @shrimp-colours @sunset-bobby @lenacarstairspotterstewart @conversationaltreestump @burntchromas @shellydominique

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #jatp fanfiction #reggie peters #my fics #fanfiction #luke patterson #julie molina #ray molina #carlos molina #alex mercer #willie nolastname #flynn nolastname #nick danforth evans #carrie wilson #trevor wilson #tia victoria

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hpdabbles · 3 years

Note

Hey friend, i love your Love Limit: seven years fic 💕 are you going to continue it? And do you have an ao3 I can follow?

Thank you for liking my work mini-munch! I have a Ao3 under the name of Rbook but fair warning I haven't updated it in a well.

Harry and Leo had both been sorted into Gryffindor to the surprise of no one. Likewise, Malfoy and Nott were sorted into Slytherin, and while that meant he wouldn't see the blond as often as he like it was enough they shared plenty of classes.

Harry's fame didn't help in getting close to Malfoy seeing as most of the kids crowded around him and Leo when they ventured the hallways. Harry, unlike his father, didn't like attention so he left it to Leo who had the training in order to handle them and get them to back off without allowing anyone to make an article out of it.

Leo is regal in a way Harry isn't due to his friend having the Lord training that he did. Dad claims he never really took his own training seriously so he didn't force Harry to take the lessons and thus Harry never did.

He never really cared about it until Malfoy pointed it out.

"I must say, Black that was rather impressive," The blond said after Leo had gotten the three Ravenclaws who were bothering Harry about that fateful Halloween to leave. "I think it's a good example of how well you will run your estate by the way you handled that situation. "

"Thank you, Malfoy. Sometimes the best weapon is a good argument" Leo chips not missing a beat. "Though if they had continued I would resort to Lord Edicate number thirteen"

Harry didn't know what rule that was but the way Malfoy's pretty silver eyes light up with humor let him the other did. "Why thirteen when you could go for nineteen instead? It would send a better message."

"And risk flames getting out of control? I think not."

Malfoy laughs, making butterflies flutter in Harry's stomach. He wants to be a part of the conversation but he can't seem to find a good opening. He shifts foot from foot until he can't take it anymore and blurts out "We could also punch them in the face!"

The other two freeze, and while Leo smiles because yeah the other half-blood would, in fact, also throw fists after a while, Malfoy looks less than impressed. Harry chuckled awkwardly, blushing bright red but unable to stop. "Just aim for the nose."

"Or the neck! They never protect the neck" Leo adds

"Right," Malfoy says after a moment's pause. He nods to both of them and straightens out his robes. "Well, I best get to potions. Godfather hates when students arrive late"

"Uncle Severus is your godfather?" Leo asks to which Malfoy nods once then spins on his heel and walks away. Harry watches the way Leo's mouth thin out in displeasure at the dismissal and even he can say that was pretty rude. Malfoy he comes to realize over the course of the weeks they have been in school together isn't perfect, in fact, he could be what one calls a snobby brat, but he is still the prettiest person he's ever seen and somehow despite the imperfections or because of them Harry finds he likes Malfoy all that more.

It makes him seem real, instead of the perfect painting come to life upon their first meeting.

Watching Malfoy walk, he snorts. "I can see the resemblance."

"Hmm?"

"Malfoy's school robes blow behind him like Professor Snape's do"

Leo throws his head back to laugh and Harry joins him. They meet up with Ron on the way to the classroom, share the joke that still had them gigglingly like loons. The three arrive in Potions in such high spirits he nearly missed Nott placing a large leaf on top of Leo's head.

Without uttering a word the brown hair boy also pressed a smooth round rock into the Black's hand and stroll back to his table where other Slytherins were seated. He had already been sitting there, with Malfoy, Goyle, and Crabbe but had sprung to his feet the moment he saw them arrive.

Malfoy leads over to Nott, speaking in soft tones, but Harry is too far away to hear what they say.

Leo takes the leaf off his head, stares at it in his open palm alongside the rock, and then pressed them to his chest whispering "I've been blessed."

Ron gives Harry a confuse look but he shakes his head. He doesn't know what that was about either and finds he doesn't want to. Nott is a bit of a loon. He only really talks about his books or spends time outside collecting random objects.

Rocks, leaves, flowers, and sticks to name a few.

Despite the fact they are engaged Malfoy didn't really spend time with him on his little outings. They were civil and were spotted in public together often but Harry after spending so much time watching Malfoy realized that Nott was often left to his own devices.

Malfoy spent more time with Crabbe and Goyle, running around turning up his nose at some students and playing games.

Harry informed Leo of this little observation and soon his fiancee coincidentally was always outside studying when Nott was. Sometimes he would help the Slytherin find an "extra crunchy leaf" or a "shinny rock" and he come back to the tower with a goofy smile and a healthy blush that had nothing to do with the cold.

Harry didn't really see the appeal of an odd but intelligent (Nott was third of the year behind, Hermione and Malfoy) boy like that but that's why he fancied Malfoy and not Nott.

The fact Leo could listen to Nott go through facts and facts about rocks without ever getting tired just made him more sure he had to get the contracts broken so they all could be happy. First-year had gone by in a whirlwind of activity and sadly he hadn't made much progress on Malfoy even though he tried so much.

Every time he tried speaking to him, his mind still blanked and he often said something wrong. Harry also started to sweat a lot around him which left him feeling gross.

"Eyes on your caldron Potter" Professor Snape snapped as he walked by blocking Harry's view of Malfoy and Nott working on their potions. Blinking he turns his head away in surprise he has been staring at the blond without realizing it.

"Sorry" He mumbles which causes the man to huff but he thankfully walks away to yell at Longbottom who was making his caldron shake again.

"Are you okay Harry?" Hermione asks. She carefully stirs the potion under Leo's careful eye. Both of them were potion partners and took their work very seriously. Harry had chosen Ron as his partner.

"I'm fine."

Ron, who also strung the potion Harry was guilty of not helping with snorted dismissively. He says in a teasing voice that has Harry every flustered that Malfoy may hear. "Don't worry 'Mione, Harry is just staring at Malfoy. He's ensnared by his beauty leaving me to do all the work. Again."

"Have you tried talking to him, Harry?" The witch asks. "You know you won't get anywhere with him if you can't hold a conversation"

"He did talk to Malfoy this time. He told Malfoy we should punch people for being fangirls earlier today in fact" Leo answers unhelpfully.

Ron winces "Mate....why would you say that? That's a bit too...muggle for the likes of Malfoy."

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing wrong with muggle like 'Mione but trust me when I say it won't get Harry very far with Malfoy. His whole family is like that."

Harry sighs "I don't know. I wasn't thinking and he's not like his father Ron. I told you."

The redhead rolls his eyes. "Sure, mate. Love blinds and all that."

Leo hums. "Nott says Malfoy uses the m-word a lot and that it makes him uncomfortable."

"M-word?"

"Mudblood"

The witch's face twitches. "Oh, that word. I don't like that word."

"No one decent likes that word," Leo says dicing up the next ingredient with a hard look in his eye.

Harry frowns but he can't argue the fact that yes he has heard Malfoy say it too. It makes his plan on marrying him slightly strain if he's honest. But he wants to try and explain to Malfoy that it's a bad thing because he knows that Malfoy looks up to his dad and sometimes love really does blind.

If only his brain could function correctly around him.

"I know it's not alright-"

"Black." A soft voice interrupts them. All for Gryinddors turn to Nott who is standing at their table again. Over his shoulder, they could see Malfoy turning in a bottle potion to Professor Snape. Seems they had finished.

At once Leo's face softens and adoration sparks in his eyes. "Hi Nott."

"Hi. Did you like the stone? I found it in the Black Lake"

"I did! It's lovely, thank you for giving it to me" Leo chirps which make Nott smile. Harry is momently reminded that despite being so strange the other boy was in fact attractive. Leo's cheeks pinked.

"You're welcome. It's nicknamed the Slytherin Stone even though it has nothing to do with Salazar Slytherin. It's not valuable or anything just pretty." Notts kicks his feet for a second then adds "It's called that because some Slytherin Alumni students a few hundred years ago found them by chance and realized they only get that kind of green shine in the Black lake. It's tradition for Slytherin to throw an end-of-year party on the same day they found the stones.....would you like to come to the party?"

Leo's eyes go wide "Y-yes of course!"

Nott smile widens looking less nervous. "Great! It's this Friday at seven. It's outside now that the weather is warm enough, so casual wear is fine and there be some bonfires. Food will be provided as well. You all can come too, just say your my group's plus one."

He waved his hand to his Slytherin friends who jerk their chins out in agreement from their own table when they look over to them. Harry's heart squeezes when he realizes he could say I'm Malfoy's plus one and wants to cheer in joy.

"We'll be there!" Leo says. "And we'll be as cool as the Slytherin Stones."

Nott giggles. "You're adorable Black. See you Friday."

He walks away just as Harry realizes something. "I have to owl Mom to send me my leather jacket before the party!"

"Why?" asks Ron, who was trying his best to hide how excited he was to be going to the Slytherin party. Well, the snake house had a bad reputation their parties were the stuff of legends. None of his older brothers had ever been allowed to go as much as they tried.

"Uncle Sirius said leather jackets make smart boys weak."

Leo took out a piece of parchment looking determine "If I ask Aunt Lily to send it with mine through my hawk we will be ready by Thursday. Dad knows what he is talking about, after all, he got Father to marry him."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Boys."

#Hpdabbles #Harry Potter #Love Limit: Seven Years #Part 3 #Year one is almost over #Image that the stone was handled by adults #Theo and Leo are a good duo #Harry has spent months trying to talk to Draco and it isn't working #Drarry #Leo Black Lupin

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spectrumed · 3 years

Text

5. sleep

It hardly gets dark in the Swedish summers. Between dusk to dawn, you’ve got about an hour to fall asleep before the sun rises again. If you struggle to fall asleep that fast, you can invest in some good window blinds. Or you can do as I do and place one big pillow over your face. Then the birds start singing around three o’clock in the morning. You can practically hear the sounds of Edvard Grieg’s Morning Mood playing at around four o’clock in the morning. Around five o’clock in the morning, it is as bright as midday. Did you have a good time sleeping? Or did you pace around in a circle having one hell of a panic attack? I thought you took some of those sleeping pills you got prescribed, they should have helped you fall asleep… wait, you did take them? They didn’t work? Oh, they did work, you just felt your body falling asleep while your mind stayed awake? That sounds terrible, real terrible. Very well. It’s morning now. Want some coffee?

You could form a religion out of sleeping. Let’s have sermons where we fill a whole auditorium full of beds and have our congregates take a big collective nap. Sleep for the sleep god! Pillows for the pillow throne! Sleep is a billion-dollar industry, there’s a plethora of handy products you can buy that promise to send you on a luxury liner to dreamland. Pills, mattresses, dreamcatchers, whatever your snoozy heart desires. You can go to a proper doctor and they might help you, or you can settle for the placebo effect and go to some fraudulent quack, instead. He might make you swallow some pills that contain arsenic, but hey, arsenic is a naturally occurring element. It can’t be all that bad for you if it is natural. And you do want to sleep, don’t you? If you take this pill in your mouth and swallow it with a glass of water, I promise you, you will sleep for a very long time.

The esteemed former president of the United States of America, Donald Trump, claims that he only needs four to five hours of sleep every night. While Mr. Trump is well-known to be a paragon of honesty, I do doubt he’s telling the truth. No, I actually do believe him when says that he only gets about four or five hours of sleep each night, I just don’t believe him when he says that is all he needs. He doesn’t look very well-rested, does he? And Margaret Thatcher, the similarly adored former prime minister of the United Kingdom, claimed that she also only needed about four hours of sleep every night. Yes, while researching the sleeping habits of famous monsters, I’ve come to the conclusion that amongst powerful individuals, not getting enough sleep has become a proper badge of honour. The belief is that if you don’t get enough sleep, that must be because you are living such a vibrantly successful life, and are so career-driven, that you simply haven’t got enough time to sleep for the full eight hours. People who sleep for more than four hours are lazy liberals. Go-getters like Trump has got to be out there, working, making decisions, raping women, and showing daddy what a good boy he is. Sleep is for the weak. But maybe I am weak. I sure like sleeping.

It’s the cultural hangover our society has had since the 80’s. Back when the yuppies wearing jackets with obscenely padded shoulders would happily chuck down eight to ten espressos in one go while A Flock of Seagulls was playing on the radio encouraging everyone to go running. And to be fair to them, with the constant fear of the doomsday clock hitting midnight, they really had no reason to think that they’d survive the decade. The new millennia, it seemed, would have no cities, no nature, no humans, only radiated mutants scouring the rubble that remains of civilization for cans of preserved something edible. Self-destructive behaviour was in. It was fashionable. Doubt people got enough sleep back then, between snorting coke and wondering if the next pandemic that hits the night clubs would start killing as many straight folks as gay folks. Well, here we are in the new 20’s, and we’ve got a pandemic that does appear to kill people regardless of sexual orientation. Sure, the looming threat of nuclear obliteration has been lessened dramatically, but we’ve largely come to exchange that anxiety for the fear of total environmental collapse, instead. No wonder 80’s nostalgia is a big thing right now. History doesn't repeat itself, but It often rhymes, said Mark Twain (supposedly.) I wonder how much coke Mark Twain would snort if he lived in the 80’s.

I notice a palpable difference in my mood and mental state when I’ve been getting good amounts of sleep. Lack of sleep results in lack of clear thinking. Caffeine, though it is something I am chronically addicted to, does not help fix a sleep-deprived mind. There are no tricks of revolutionary “life hacks” one can employ to get out of sleeping. To recover from depression, one has to sleep. Sleep often and sleep well. I cannot understate the importance of being well-rested. You cannot process information if you are tired. I am reminded of my teenage years seeing friends of mine who’d stay up all night, then come into school shuffling like agonised zombies. They got so frustrated when the teachers reprimanded them for snoozing in class. Well, dummies, it is your fault for drinking several dozen cans of Red Bull every day! I know that sleep does not always come easy. I know the terror of insomnia. But, c’mon! At some point, you’ve got to realise that sleep is essential. Maybe most of your problems stem from the fact that you refuse to get enough of it? Here’s where the tough love comes in. If you wanna get better, kiddo, then listen to me. It’s bedtime. Yes, I know you’d rather stay up late playing monopoly with your friends, but I’m confiscating your dice and I’ll only give it back to you when you’ve gotten some good sleep. Okay? You hear me, missy? You listen to your daddy now, and go to bed. No ifs or buts about it, princess, I’ve made myself clear. I know what is best for you, and you know that I am right. I’m your daddy.

But what if I can’t seem to fall asleep? Normally, it takes a long time for me to fall asleep. It is not uncommon for me to stay awake for two hours, maybe more, before I finally begin to sleep. Fearing that I won’t fall asleep gives me anxiety. That anxiety keeps me awake. I turn my body. I try lying on my side. First my left side, then my right side. I then try to lie on my back. I’ve got a song stuck playing in my head. Not even the whole song, just a ten-second segment of it. It’s playing over and over. I’m worried about the future, will I ever find security, will I ever find a wife, will I get to grow old? I worry about death. I keep hearing the music playing, it’s grating. I rearrange the pillows, in hopes that will make me feel more comfortable. But no, I keep tossing and turning like a fish caught on land. I’m getting frustrated. If only I could shut off my brain. I’m constantly thinking. I turn to my side again, but now I notice I’ve moved arounds so much that now the bed has shifted away from its position next to the wall. There’s now a gap between the bed and the wall. I almost fall down that gap. I get up and I push the bed back against the wall. I lay down in bed. The song is still playing.

How am I ever going to become a successful businessman if I am wasting so many hours just trying to get to sleep? This is the time I should be spending on the phone, yelling at people and making inappropriate sexual comments to my female employees. That is what good executives do. I need to get my life in order. I need to exercise more. I should practice mindfulness. I should get a life coach, a personal trainer, a stylist, an accountant, an assistant, a trophy wife, and a mistress. I need people in my life to take care of me. It’s funny how rich people create the sort of environment around them where people will take care of all their needs, effectively infantilising them. These people don’t even get to decide how to dress themselves. They’ve got fancy apartments, but they don’t choose any of the furniture. They’ve got art on the walls that they don’t like, but the art looks expensive, and that is all that matters. They’ve got kids, but they don’t raise them. Their spouses are cheating on them, but in fairness, they are cheating on their spouses. They don’t really even know what their jobs entails, as they’ve gotten promoted so many times that they’ve ended up in a position that is totally outside their realm of expertise. But they’re so powerful that no-one is able to fire them over their pretty blatant incompetence. They’re successful. They’ve made it. But they still can’t sleep at night. They only manage to successfully fall asleep at night after swallowing a fistful of pills along with a swig of vodka.

It must be easy being a self-help guru. Well, what I mean to say is that all you really need is charisma, which is something you need to be born with. But you don’t need to do any actual studying, any real research, or any kind of soul-searching or deliberation. All you need is to state what is obvious. You go on stage in front of an anxious audience, mostly composed of middle-class salesmen and miscellaneous white collar ghosts. You smile, show off your eerily bright teeth, and they clap. You tell them to go take care of themselves, to eat more healthily, to take walks, or go swimming, and love their partners. You tell them to drink less, or maybe, if they feel like it, they could drink more. I am sure you could spin alcohol as a positive or a negative, depending on what crowd you’re talking to. Tell them to appreciate family. Tell them to appreciate others. Live, laugh, but most of all, love. Tell them to go clean their rooms. Tell them to remember that if they’re on an airplane that is about to crash land, they need to put their own oxygen mask on before they can help others put theirs on. If you don’t love yourself, how in the hell you gonna love somebody else? Now, go to bed!

You know all this stuff. Me telling you that you should sleep more doesn’t really help you. You know that you should sleep more. It’s not like as if you’re too dumb to realise that. And it’s not like as if you’re too dumb to realise that it is better to drink in moderation, and that you should smoke less weed. There are many small little things you can do to improve your life, to stop being a terminally unemployed slacker. It’s like your grandpa who tells you stories about life after the war when you could walk into the biggest building in town, slam your fist against the table and demand to be given a job and a house and a wife and a couple of kids, and that was all you needed to do. He can’t comprehend the fact that society doesn’t work like that, any more. Most people my generation have given up hope of ever owning a home, at least if they happen to live in the vicinity of a larger city. It seems that, no matter where you live, the cost of homes has risen to an impenetrable degree. It seems just as likely that you will be able to afford your very own genetically-engineered pet dragon before you will get to be a house-owner. It’s the fault of those damn boomers, why bother changing your ways, when the boomers are still in charge? Others may accuse you of wallowing in your own depression, but you are perfectly aware that this is exactly what you are doing. You are self-aware. But self-awareness on its own is not enough to motivate anyone. You still can’t see the point in doing anything constructive with your life. Life just feels so aimless. It’s easier to sit, smoke weed, and watch cartoons.

Pop psychology is problematic. To say the least. Take all those self-help gurus suffering from their messiah complexes and put them through the shredder. Don’t buy books thinking that they’ll offer you the kind of treatment you would get from an actual psychiatrist. I know that, depending on where you are in the world, treatment can get very expensive, but you’re not going to get better reading the book of some self-aggrandising narcissist’s collection of wishy-washy platitudes. Dr. Phil has done great evil pretending to be a therapist on the TV, and Jordan Peterson (despite having once been an esteemed scholar) has turned a generation of young internet-savvy zoomers into proto-fascists obsessed with the monogamy of lobsters. Pop psychology has become a guise for cult leaders to reap new followers. Getting treatment should not feel like joining a new religious movement. Maybe I’m just one of those annoying atheists, but I dare say, psychiatry works at its best when it's secular. You should not look at your psychiatrist as a prophet speaking to God. They’re just a doctor, and you need treatment.

I do not aspire to create a self-help blog. I do not promise that reading this blog will help you in any way. I would be overjoyed if someone came up to me and told me that I had inspired them to seek help. You may tell me that reading my words have made you feel less alone, knowing that others have gone through all these things that you are going through. When I felt at my worst, I remember reading the memoirs of people I admired who had similarly struggled in their lives, and I felt less alone. But none of those books pretended to exist principally to help others. Those books did help me, through the candid descriptions of struggles that I thought I was alone in experiencing. Knowing that some people had pulled through, managed to find a light at the end of the tunnel, it made me think I could one day be like them. The books didn’t seek to fix me, but they offered me a perspective that came to be very valuable later on, when I started going to therapy, and when I later started taking medication. Sometimes that is all you need. Not someone standing over you and telling you to go to bed, or to clean your room, or to stop drinking. You know all that, already. What you really need is the reassurance that things can indeed get better. Sleep will come.

#neurodiversity #neurodivergent #autism spectrum disorder #autism #aspergers #mental health

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milfjensenackles · 3 years

Text

devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes

2k words | read it on ao3

Cas and Sam sat together in the War Room, attempting to drown out Dean’s screams with tense bursts of conversation.

Sam located Dean a few days ago after discovering that Crowley turned him into a demon. Dean was less than happy to leave Crowley behind for the bunker, so Sam ended up knocking him out and carrying Dean’s limp body to the Impala. Once he’d collected his brother, he called Cas for help. Cas was pissed, to say the least.

“How could you let this happen to him, Sam?”

Sam placed his head in his hands. “I thought he was dead!”

Cas folded his arms across his chest, still angry. He wasn’t really angry at Sam, though. He was angry at himself for not stopping Dean from taking on the Mark of Cain in the first place. All of this could have been prevented.

“Cas, I think the demon cure might kill him.” Sam said, choking up at the thought. “There has to be another way.”

Cas felt a chill run down his spine. Sam was right. “There is… one thing I can think of, but it’s very old magic. There’s no way to know if it would actually work.”

“Well? Spit it out!” Sam was becoming increasingly frustrated.

“True love’s kiss,” Cas said tentatively.

Sam’s eyes narrowed, his face incredulous at the suggestion. “There’s no way that’s actually a thing. And even if it was, who would Dean’s ‘True Love’ even be? Cassie? Lisa?”

Cas shrugged. “I hardly think it could be Lisa, Sam. Dean had me erase her memory.”

Sam huffed at that. Dean hadn’t been romantically interested in anyone in years. He barely even tried to pick up women at the bars they stumbled into after their more difficult cases. Dean hasn’t had a long-term relationship… pretty much ever. The only people he has a consistent relationship with are Sam and his best friend… Cas.

“Cas,” Sam said quietly, “What if… what if you’re Dean’s true love?”

Cas was stunned into silence. There’s no way it could be him. At the very least, Cas knew Dean wasn’t attracted to men. “Sam…”

Sam cut him off. “No, wait a second. Hear me out. You two have been through literal Hell and back for each other. You’re always obnoxiously staring at each other – and don’t try to deny it, I see the way you look at him. You care about Dean more than all of those angels. More than most other humans. You refused to kill Dean, even if it meant losing their support. Does all of this ring a bell?”

Cas was staring off into space, his lips pressed into a thin line. Sam was more observant than Cas had realized. Cas has known about his feelings for Dean for quite some time now. He still had trouble understanding them, though. Sometimes it was overwhelming, how much he cared for Dean. It felt like he might split open with the weight of his desire. Angels weren’t supposed to feel that way, especially about a human, so Cas pushed it away. A problem for another day. He supposed today was that day. Cas shook his head. “What about you? You are his brother. Maybe a kiss on the cheek from you would suffice.”

Sam tossed the idea around in his head before nodding. “Okay. We’ll try that first. But Cas, I’m serious. We’re running out of options here.”

Cas grimaced, but slowly nodded in agreement.

Sam and Cas made their way to Dean, prepared for the worst. What they weren’t prepared for, however, was an empty room, with Dean’s chair kicked over and his restraints undone. Sam and Cas looked at each other, mouths open in an ‘O’ shape.

“Fuck,” Cas swore.

Sam nodded. “Agreed.”

Cas and Sam split up, covering each corner of the bunker to try to sneak up on Dean. Cas ended up in a back hallway, praying to whatever might be listening that Dean was still in the bunker. As Cas rounded a corner, his prayers seemed to have been answered, as he runs right into Dean’s chest. The last thing Cas sees is blackened eyes before he’s slammed up against a hard surface.

Dean smirked at Cas. “Aw, the little angel thought he might stand a chance against me. That’s cute.” Dean slid the angel blade out from Cas’ hands, which were pressed above Castiel’s head now. Dean leaned in, only a millimeter from Cas’ face. Cas looked from side to side, hoping to find something that might help him out of his unfortunate position, but Dean had Cas pinned against the wall. Cas was out of options. He had to at least try, didn’t he? For Dean. Cas mustered all of his strength and pressed forward, attaching his mouth to Dean’s. It was clinical, almost. A simple press of lips. And then as soon as the kiss had started, it was abruptly ended by Dean pushing Cas off of him.

Cas slid to the floor, relief flooding him. Cas looked up at Dean. Dean had his hands pressed to his knees as he leaned against the opposite wall. He looked down at Cas, seemingly bewildered. “What just happened?”

Cas’ eyes widened. “Dean?”

“Hey, Cas. Why do I feel like I just got the shit kicked out of me? How did we get here? Why are you on the floor?” Dean reached out to help Cas to his feet.

Cas was speechless. He floundered for a moment, looking for the right words, before deciding to turn away and walk down the hallway, leaving a confused Dean behind him.

There was a knock at Cas’ door. He stiffened immediately, not looking forward to a conversation with either Winchester brother. Sam stuck his head in. “Were you gonna tell me you figured out how to fix Dean? He just walked up to me and asked about getting some pie and I almost fell out of my chair.”

Cas sighed. “My apologies, Sam.”

Sam moved to sit next to Cas on the bed, waving away Cas’ apology. “Whatever, dude. How’d you do it? Was it a spell?”

Cas debated his answer in his mind. If he told Sam, Sam might tell Dean, which would be humiliating. If he didn’t tell Sam, Sam would become suspicious of him. Before Cas could respond though, Sam took his silence as all the answer he needed. His face lit up with understanding. “You didn’t.”

Cas held his hands up in an attempt to stop Sam from saying anything more damning. “Sam, please. I don’t want Dean to find out.”

Sam looked confused, his eyebrows scrunching together. “Why not? This is incredible! You two obviously both have feelings for each other. Now you can go for it!”

Cas rolled his eyes. “I cannot simply ‘go for it’, Sam. I took advantage of Dean during a moment of weakness. He has no idea that I was the one who saved him, or how I managed to save him. It should stay that way. I don’t want to ruin our relationship. It’s Dean. He means too much to me to lose him.”

Sam seemed to ponder this information for a moment, before saying, “I think that’s all the more reason to tell him the truth.”

With that, Sam left Cas alone to his thoughts.

A few days, Cas was sitting in the kitchen with Sam when Dean rambled in, hair mussed and eyes bloodshot. Cas gave Dean a small smile, which Dean noticed and returned immediately. Cas had been avoiding Dean for the past few days, but luckily Dean didn’t seem to notice.

“How are you, Dean?” Cas asked.

Dean sighed. “Still not a hundred percent, but that’ll happen with demon possession.”

Dean winked at him. Cas felt his heartrate increase, the memory of their brief kiss still haunting him. Sam looked between his brother and Cas, a knowing smile on his face. Cas gave him a warning glare. Unfortunately for Cas, Dean saw this exchange. He pointed an accusatory finger between the two of them. “Are you guys fighting?”

Right as Cas said “No!”, Sam interjected with a louder “Yes, actually.” They both turned to glare at each other again.

Sam held up his hand to stop Cas from saying anything else, before leaning toward Dean to explain. “Cas and I had a… disagreement yesterday.”

Dean sat down across from the two of them. “Lay it on me.”

Cas tried to interrupt, giving Sam a pointed look. “Dean, you don’t want to listen to this. You’re still exhausted.”

“No, Cas, I think it would be good to get Dean’s perspective,” Sam smirked. “So get this, Dean. Cas here did something to a friend who needed his help. This friend might not have survived without Cas stepping in. Cas won’t tell this friend though! I think Cas should tell him. What do you think?”

Cas was furious with Sam and let him know with a single look. Sam looked slightly admonished, which satisfied Cas. Dean, however, was ignoring all of this to ponder what Sam had said. “I think you should let your friend know, buddy. They’d probably appreciate it.”

Sam clapped his hand on Cas’ shoulder, standing up from the table. “See, there you have it, Cas! I’ll leave you two to it.”

“What friends do you got that I don’t know?” Dean asked once Sam was out of earshot.

“None,” Cas responded through gritted teeth.

Dean scrunched his eyebrows together like he was doing mental math that didn’t quite add up. Cas could only imagine it: ‘If 1 + 1 =3, then Sam must be talking about Dean.’ This was the worst day of his very long life. Finally, after many excruciating moments, Dean spoke up again. “Was Sam talking about me?”

Cas rolled his eyes. “Yes, Dean.”

“Is that why you’ve been so cagey about the whole demon thing lately? What did you do? Should I be concerned about some weird angel mojo thing goin’ on inside me?”

Cas sighed. “No, Dean,” He scrubbed his hand down his face. “Sam and I were running out of ideas. We had to save you. I knew of only one way to do so. It is known as ‘True Love’s Kiss’. We were going to have Sam try it out by kissing your cheek, but you escaped. You located me first. I thought you might kill me, so… I had to try, Dean. I hope you can forgive me.”

Dean stood up abruptly, shocked by the information he’d just received. Cas didn’t know what to do, so he stayed seated, uncomfortably waiting for Dean to react. Dean walked over to where Cas was seated, staring at him with a complicated look on his face. Cas couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He didn’t have time to wonder, though, because Dean fisted his palm into the lapel of Cas’ trenchcoat and pulled him out of his chair, covering Cas’ mouth with his own. Cas immediately responded in kind, his hands moving to run through Dean’s hair. Dean’s tongue swiped across Cas’ bottom lip, and Cas gasped, which allowed Dean to better explore him. Dean’s hands travelled down Cas’ sides to his hips and pulled Cas closer. Cas moaned, and Dean swallowed the sound greedily. After what felt like hours, Cas forced himself to pull away and press their foreheads together, both of them breathing heavily.

Cas noticed Dean’s shoulders shaking, and he immediately realized that Dean was laughing. Cas was bewildered. “What’s so funny?”

Dean took a deep breath, trying to control himself. “So… you’re my ‘True Love’, huh? It’s like that fairytale garbage. We’ve been such idiots. All it took was me becoming a demon to figure it out.”

Cas smiled. “You’re the idiot in this relationship.”

Dean raised his eyebrows and said, “Oh, is that so?” before leaning in again, capturing Cas in another kiss that they both grinned into. Cas was overwhelmed. He never thought, in a million years, that this was how their story would come together. Cas still had a lot to learn about being in a relationship, and he knew Dean didn’t have much experience with it either. He understood now, though, that they had plenty of time to figure it out, and his best friend would be at his side through it all.

#i just started s10 and i love demon dean so this happened #deancas fic #destiel fic #deancas #destiel #first kiss #spn fic #lauren writes

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travoltacustom · 3 years

Text

HYPNOSIS MICROPHONE 4TH INTERNATIONAL POLL (DECEMBER 2020) Part 6: Fandom and the Future of HypMic

Thank you for your participation! These are the final results for the 4th Hypnosis Microphone International Poll. After months of work on this, we have estimates for general fandom opinions. Do you agree or disagree with the general opinions? Please let us know!

The results were held back from original posting as we were waiting to post for a month before the 2nd DRB finals (which is on Doppo’s Birthday this year.) My deepest apologies for how long this took to get out. We will be releasing these results with a section per day, with the end of these results showing the Japanese side.

Click the READ MORE to view the results.

PREFACE

The data collection for this poll received 902 votes to give us an indication of the demographic of those who consume Hypnosis Mic. This poll was open to English speakers, and thus, results may be considerably Euro/American-centric. The word ‘international’ has been used to refer to how fans are from many places around the world, but the poll may also refer to this group as ‘English-speaking’ etc. The Japanese poll had a smaller respondent pool with 400.

This poll received the most activity through Twitter, given that the series is most active on that platform. The poll was also posted on Tumblr, Facebook and the HypMic wiki. Commentary has been given on sections of the poll. These results will be available in full on from this account. The Japanese poll results shall follow about a week with comparison to this poll.

The poll was conducted from December 2020 to January 2021. This poll is UNOFFICIAL and none of the composers of this poll have any relation to King Records whatsoever.

This has been split into MULTIPLE posts due to the amount of data and limitations of tumblr.

PART 6: Miscellaneous Questions

Respondents were allowed to select up to 3 characters.

As we were processing these results, all characters have received some part of character development.

Did MTR deserve the 1st DRB win?

YES, Matenro did deserve the 1st DRB win: 73.1%

NO, Matenro did not deserve the 1st DRB win: 26.9%

Did FP deserve the Rule the Stage DRB win?

YES, Fling Posse did deserve the Rule the Stage DRB win: 83.9%

NO, Fling Posse did not deserve the Rule the Stage DRB win: 16.1%

Who do you believe will win the 2nd DRB? This was not a ‘who do you WANT to win’ question.

CANNOT DECIDE: 23.9%

Fling Posse: 21.7%

MAD TRIGGER CREW: 17%

Dotsuitare Honpo: 14.6%

Matenro: 9.6%

Bad Ass Temple: 8.4%

Buster Bros!!!: 4.7%

Who do you think will win BB vs DH, MTC vs FP, MTR vs BAT?

Dotsuitare Honpo VS Buster Bros!!!

Dotsuitare Honpo: 56.3%

Buster Bros!!!: 31.1%

Can’t Decide: 12.6%

Bad Ass Temple VS Matenro

Bad Ass Temple: 33.4%

Matenro: 50.8%

Can’t Decide: 15.9%

Fling Posse VS MAD TRIGGER CREW

Fling Posse: 44.8%

MAD TRIGGER CREW: 41.5%

Can’t Decide: 13.7%

WHAT ARE YOU HOPING TO SEE IN THE MAIN PLOT OF HYPMIC?

With 902 responses, we decided not to do a table of these as we’ve already showed which characters respondents wanted to be explored more. However, we will show ‘interesting’ points that we’ve found.

INTERESTING RESPONSES

Exploration of the pre H-era Japan, what caused the war and what the war was like.

Exploration of post WW3 / H-era Japan with politics, society etc.

More female characters as either part of Chuohku, rebellion etc. Possible mixed gender crews

Revolution/rebellion against Chuohku. Referred to as “a SUMMIT OF DIVISIONS moment in canon” and later governmental reform.

Why was the Hypnosis Mic created and more on its development.

In depth explanation as to what happens after being mindhacked.

General insight into more than backstories but their daily lives and possibly romantic lives.

Introduction of more divisions / return of old characters to form new divisions

Another anime season; a proper adaptation of the manga

Why were the Yamadas ‘orphaned/abandoned/separated’ from Rei? Why did Ichiro hide what happened?

BB’s Mother/Rei’s partner - did something bad happen to her?

Jyuto’s past - how he used to be when his parents and partner were still alive.

Why did Jyuto interrogate Doppo?

Does Samatoki feel guilty for blaming Ichiro? Does he feel resentment towards Ramuda even though he figures that he was ordered to do this?

Jakurai’s history as an assassin

More on Yotsutsuji and Jakurai’s relationship

Jakurai and Hitoya’s friendship and how it ‘fell apart’

Who is the original Ramuda and why were the clones created?

Others finding out about the Ramuda clones.

Hifumi and Doppo’s childhood/highschool years.

How did Doppo’s depression get so bad?

The Dirty Dawg’s reconciliation

MAD COMIC DIALOGUE / Ichiro & Kuko / Samatoki & Sasara talking things out and addressing what happened

OTHER RESPONSES

Many responses of just “yes”, “):” “I’m” and “...”, but most importantly “I’m just kind of here for the ride”

There are many that are begging for angst, character death and “chaos”. Some have wished suffering upon certain characters but these will not be disclosed.

“For all of them to get therapy tbh”

“LGBTQ”

“A more complex plot”

“fun and crazy things”

Mentions of ships becoming canon: Hifumi x Doppo, Sasara x Rosho

There were accusations of HPMI being “sexist/misogynistic/not feminist enough” that went on to describe things that have already been addressed.

“I just wanna see Ichiro yelling “fuck you” to his dad”

Otome being Buster Bros!!! mom as well, or that she had some relationship with Rei.

“more test tube babies”

“More Doppo screams”

“(...) Whether or not Rei is worth saving or if I should just rip his tits off (...)”

“An explanation for (why) Rei is Like That”

“Rei vs the rest of the cast just because Mastermind boss battle”

“rei boobs”

“man I just hope they have a nice day. I would like to know about Kuko more :) hes funky and i think that's neat hope hes having a nice day :)))“

“More Kuko feet”

ADDRESSED REPONSES: Responses that have been answered/addressed during the 2nd DRB dramatracks to some degree.

Buster Bros!!! fighting with Rei

Jiro and Saburo no longer being dependent on Ichiro

Jiro and Saburo’s relationship being repaired / seeing eye to eye.

Jyuto’s backstory with the drug problem

How is Ramuda able to participate in the DRB if he’s being hunted down

Gentaro’s identity and brother/family.

Dice confronting Otome

Jakurai coming to Chuohku’s side

Hifumi’s trauma and who Honobono is. (Note: I hope you guys are okay after this one)

Sasara’s time as a gangster with Samatoki

Sasara/Rosho dependency

Nemu being freed from her mindhack/will she be freed.

Is Yotsutsuji still alive/comatose?

WHY DID YOU GET INTO HYPMIC?

Of 902 responses, 166 responses mentioned a character by name or song. Not all characters were mentioned but of the ones mentioned, each was mentioned:

Of 902 responses, 47 mentioned a division by name or song. Each were mentioned:

Fling Posse: 11 times

Bad Ass Temple: 9 times

Buster Bros!!! 7 times

Chuohku: 6 times

Dotsuitare Honpo: 4 times

Matenro: 3 times

Of 902 responses, 43 mentioned a seiyuu. Each were mentioned:

Here are some ‘notable’ reasons people got into HypMic:

“That's a loaded question buddy, assuming I went into this willingly. (...)”

“(...) I love how hypmic combined Male Idols, (Jojo) Stands, and a whole lot of angst in a project (with some fluff here and there).”

“Riou’s tits”

“Because I hated seeing it everywhere so I decided to learn about it before I hate it more. I've fallen deep into this hell.”

“ensemble stars made me v upset”

“I saw bald Ramuda plushie and wanted to know more about him”

“I saw Jakurai and went OOGA BOOGA.

“honestly i saw some fanart of doppo with the fattest and most juiciest ass ever and i was immediately interested, but unfortunately doppo cannonically has a concave ass and jakurai doing a brazillian butt lift on doppo’s ass cannot save it </3 i still love him though”

“Haha pretty rapper bois go brr”

“I'm gay”

“someone was hating on it on twitter and i decided to download arb”

“friend of mine told me to install enstars game, so i installed hypmic”

“I downloaded one of the songs without knowing what it was from for a two week trip into the buttfuck middle of nowhere Wyoming for a school trip in 11th grade and it’s one of the only things that kept me sane”

“Because Jakurai was a hot milf “

“Ice cream spoons”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

To see the next part with comparison to the JP fandom, please follow us to the next post. To view ideas on the series’ production, go back to the previous post.

PREVIOUS | NEXT - NOTE: WILL BE POSTED TOMORROW THEN LINKED HERE

#hypnosis mic #hypmic #hypmic 4th intl poll

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wearesorcerer · 3 years

Note

You've probably written about that but let's get into some details: what inspired Meow's design? From the species of awakened kitty, to the parts of their outfit, the spells they slot, the name? (The name I do recall you explaining so no need to answer that one, just in case people dunno and want a link or something.)

Bonus: list your favourite feline characters in media.

Meow started out as a friend's character concept that never got used: a wizard polymorphed into a cat who kept her (I think it was a her...) spellbook as scratch marks on a board somewhere in a house (like, attic floorboard sort of thing). The form was intentional for some reason; I don't recall if she was a nothlit or not, but I'm pretty sure given the friend that she wasn't.

Meow's transition into my character concept (before becoming a sorcerer) started with the "cat wizard" premise and nixed the polymorphy part. (I like making inhuman characters.) I chose Jiji (Kiki's Delivery Service) as the general model because I've always liked him. The bit about being kitten sized but fully grown is mostly that Jiji looks really small to me relative to the humans, though his girlfriend is about the same size. (Other Ghibli cats are larger.)

I then added a wizard hat -- probably inspired by that image I found, but mainly to be on-the-nose about it.

So there's Meow at basics: Jiji with a wizard hat.

The trouble with playing a true cat is that, with D&D's rules as written, you can't cast spells and can barely use magic items: D&D requires human speech for verbal components for spells and command words for many magic items (incantations) and human-like hands for somatic components (gestures) for spells and holding or using most magic items. Animals don't even necessarily get the same magic item slots in editions that use such a system! So what's a cat caster to do?

This is where ioun stones and reserve feats (mentioned in Meow's bio) come in.

Ioun stones are slotless magic items (so you don't have to worry about whether or not you can equip them) that provide passive bonuses to whomever they're equipped to. They're slotless because they float around you -- no need to interact with them with hands, don't have to wear them. The only trouble I have with ioun stones (and the reason I have yet to use them in a game) is that since they are little gems (of any gem shape) orbiting their user, someone else could (and would) simply snatch them away. (I think this is a little too easy and they should get some sort of telekinetic resistance to such attempts while equipped, but that's just me.) Prior to use on this blog, Meow would have taken all of the feats and prestige classes needed to reduce the number of pages it takes to transcribe a spell into a spellbook, then would have engraved the spellbook onto ioun stones (one spell per stone). This would give Meow a spellbook a cat could carry.

(I had also considered Spell Mastery, but that's so limited that you may as well be a Sorcerer.)

Reserve feats were late additions to 3.5, appearing in Complete Mage and Complete Champion. Each feat gives you an ability similar to a 5e cantrip in power, but (frequently) equivalent in theme to a low-level spell: so long as you have a spell of an appropriate type (usually a subschool or descriptor) "available to cast" (meaning you have a spell slot available that can cast a given spell of the type specified and either you know such a spell [Sorcerer] or have it prepared [Wizard]), you can use the feat's granted ability at-will. Usually, the ability's save DC, damage dice, range, and/or duration scale with the level of the spell held in reserve. These abilities are Supernatural, which means they don't use components at all, take a standard action (= 5e's action) to use by default, and do not provoke attacks of opportunity, but are negated in antimagic fields and do not benefit from most feats and class features that improve spells. There aren't many good ones, sadly, and there are few ways of "optimizing" such feats, but they're helpful in an edition that didn't even have at-will cantrips.

With those things and the Silent and Still Metamagic feats (yes, metamagic was a category of feat in 3.5), Meow would be functional, if low-powered for a Wizard.

These were all hypotheticals until I got the appointment to the Collective. Meow had been on my mind at the time, but had been sitting in murky half-thoughts for a while before then, so it was more happy coincidence that I ended up changing Meow from a wizard into a sorcerer. (I was tempted not to: it almost defeats the purpose of the ioun stones.) That and I'm sick of playing humanoids besides elves, but that's a digression.

I had most of what I needed, but was left with a name. Dissatisfied with options I found on random name generators, I decided to make my own. I combined "Ozymandias" with "Meow" and changed the initial vowel; I then inserted "Felix" in there and pretended the resulting "-xas" was enough to evoke "Abraxas". "-imilian" at the end is because I think "Maximilian" (or however it's spelled) is fun to say. I don't recall where the "-cyrri-" came from off-hand; I know I wrote it down somewhere. (It might be to add letters of the alphabet.) "But no one will get the allusions if stacked that much!" Quiet, you! The point was to come up with an outlandish name -- the sort you see fictional wizards using. The longer the name and the harder it is to understand, the more difficult it is for someone to steal it. Plus, it makes "Meow" funnier. ("Chiro" is a common Japanese cat name; I list it as an alternative because even I think "Meow" is a dumb name for a cat.)

Favorite fictional cats: Jiji, Mewtwo, Mew, Meowth/Persian, maybe Salem (Sabrina the Teenage Witch), ... I'm sure there are others. I like cats, I just don't tend to think about them re: favorite characters.

And, as always, glompage for the ask!

#Meow #Azcyrrimeowndifelixasimilian #Chiro #catposting #ask meme #thanks for the ask!

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stelliferia · 3 years

Text

So yknow my kobold arcane trickster rogue, Kitt? She has a familiar now! His name is Mugwump (after the Canadian cryptid) and he is the best familiar I could ever ask for. What a beautiful good boy.

The process for this little boi was probably the best way I’ve seen find familiar done. The DM’s an absolute legend. I keep thinking about it, and it just make me cry. Process/backstory dump under the cut. It’s a little long, be warned

I’m so sorry in advance, this became something of a writing exercise for me - if you read it, I really appreciate it, and feel free to send me a PM if you want to chat!

So in addition to the usual components for the spell (10 gp worth of charcoal, incense, and herbs, and a bronze brazier) Kitt was required to collect a few other things. As someone who casts through her mind (intelligence) she needed to find three objects that represented mastery over three parts of her mind, in order to to have a familiar that represented it.

First was what does she want. Second was what would she do to get what she wanted. And the third was what does she fear will happen if she doesn’t get what she wants.

After much deliberating (on both hers and my parts), Kitt settled on the following things. A feather, some rope, and a set of charred wooden dice.

The feather represented freedom. Freedom from the slumbering ancient red dragon she used to collect shinies, and the threat of the terrible things it is capable of if it wakes. She wants for the rest of the kobolds to be free too. To explore the world and see the wonders it has to offer, no longer bound to endless servitude, just like she is now. The feather itself came from a hawk that used to belong to a very unpleasant man who had since been drowned, freeing it - something Kitt would want for herself and the other kobolds.

The rope represented Kitt’s willingness to explore to the ends of the earth(?) to find the Great Blade that is said to be capable of slaying the dragon for good. If the Blade isn’t the answer, she intends to keep on looking. Her dragonborn companion once told her rope was the most important thing an adventurer could have. So if she’ll be travelling a lot, Kitt figures she’s going to need quite a significant amount.

The charred dice represented everything she’s come to know and love being destroyed. This expansive, scary, beautiful world that she still has so much to learn about, would be ripped away from her if something wasn’t done about the dragon. She’d never see them again - her beloved Priestess telling stories with the shimmery pictures, or her friends and weasel running about, calling her to play. And while she hasn’t known them for quite as long, the crew, no, friends she’s made, she wouldn’t want them taken from her either. They still have stories to write write, quests to complete, and she wants to help see them through to the end. The dice, before they were charred, had delicate gold lettering etched onto each of the faces, and finished with a rich mahogany varnish. They were the first shinies she had ever found, and her first exposure to the outside world. She has fond memories with these dice, of her and her friend sneaking off during rituals to admire and play with the pretty shinies, delighting in the clickity-clackity noise they’d make as they hit the ground. As she went to put them in the fire place, her eyes started welling up, watching her precious reminder of home going up in flames. She quickly wiped them away, as the dice burned and blackened beyond recognition, and she started the ritual.

Falling into a meditative trance, visions surrounded her. She’s standing on the ship deck, nothing and no one else around, except the hawk, soaring above her. She blinked, and suddenly, she was seeing through the hawk’s eyes. It flew over the various islands, some of which she had visited, some of them soon to be. The scene shifts again, and she’s standing again, but this time, its somewhere hot, ashy, and dark. She’s home again. As her eyes adjust, her heart sinks to the floor. All of her friends. Dead. Reluctantly, she looks around. And it’s not just them, but all of the crew, the people she’s met along the way, and her clan, scattered like ragdolls. Looking away from the bodies, she comes snout to snout with a familiar face. A face she spent her life fearing, and hoped never to see again, and not like this. The Great Dragon Viskelaer was awake.

Waking with a gasp, she found herself back in her quarters. Her heart was pounding, and her face was wet with tears. She curled into a ball, shaken by what she saw. There was a tug at her scarf, and when she looked, bright blue eyes looked back at her. The small mahogany creature pawed its way into Kitt’s lap, and its rope-like tail curling around as it settles in for a nap. Tentatively, the kobold reached out her claws to pet it, like she did the weasels back home. This one felt a little different though. The fur was more like soft feathers, somewhat reminiscent of the hawk. Realizing what had happened, Kitt’s cracked the tiniest grin. This weasel, Mugwump, is her precious shiny, and she was going to make sure she worked to protect it.

RIGHT SO THAT WAs BASICLALY WHAT HAPPENED for Kitt to get her familiar, and nearly everything about it I attribute to my incredible DM. I think he’s the first DM I’ve had who’s given me a world I absolutely adore, and he handles my character (monster race) so incredibly well. He’s very much all about the creative reflavouring, and I live for it. Gahh I have so much to say about this DM. They also handle Mugwump (in-game) very well, and it makes me so unbelievably happy. (i’m going to start a tag for myself for things Mugwump does/things I headcannon he does, called Mugwump Ventures)

So because of Kitt’s love of shinies, Mugwump has an inherent need for them as well. He doesn’t quite understand why though, so his natural response is to bite shinies he finds. He’s always actively seeking them out, eyes glittering whenever he sees one. He melts my heart. The forge cleric (one of my good friends in the group) had just gotten an upgrade to his armour, and didn’t know what to do with his old chain mail, so he ended up giving it to Kitt/Mugwump as a gift. Mugwump was overjoyed, and it’s his new toy now. It was so so sweet, and we are all crying.

Tangent, but everyone in the party has gifted Kitt with something at some point. I mean, makes sense, you want to appease the captain >:). The druid gave her little daisies whenever he went to get her, the carpenter made her a little boat model, and the forge cleric not only gave her the armour, but he also forged her a proper rapier to replace her pointy stick. It’s just so sweet and wholesome. The crewjust wants to keep this little Kobold child happy

Gosh, another thing, when i first thought about casting Find Familiar, I just assumed it would be a regular weasel, but when the DM began describing Mugwump’s appearance, I began squealing from joy. Every aspect of the familiar’s appearance reflects the items, and what they mean to Kitt. So the eyes were meant to be the seas they were sailing, the rope tail was... the rope, the colouring was supposed to be the dice and the charring, the feathers for freedom/the hawk, and the form (though predetermined) was home. I was legit so happy about it. I love this DM. It’s been a great time.

Anyways, long post over thanks for reading, hope you stay tuned for more wholesome content!

#dnd #find familiar #kobold #weasel #pirates campaign #mugwump ventures #stelliferiarts #stelliramblings

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the-big-nope · 4 years

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While I’m certainly nowhere near ready for the story of the Mighty Nein to come to an end, I am also a D&D nerd and there’s a new sourcebook coming out soon with a bunch of new subclasses in it. By the time Campaign 3 of Critical Role gets underway, that book will be published, leaving a wealth of new options for the cast members to choose from, so why not entertain myself by making barely justified predictions of what the cast is most likely to pick for their next characters! (Disclaimer: Some of the new subclasses have been confirmed and some haven’t, so for a few of these picks I’m just going off of what I think is going to be in the book).

Travis

Cleric (Tempest Domain): Travis has been playing lowkey EMT since campaign one, and Laura’s already confirmed that Travis almost went cleric for campaign two. Between Grog with his barb-boosted movement speed to get around the battlefield so he could shove healing potions into his squishier teammates, and Fjord multiclassing into paladin and lovingly tapping his friends with single hit points to get them back up, it would be delightful to see him fully jump in and embrace the classical healer role. Of course, this is Travis, so I don’t see him picking a cleric domain that doesn’t allow for at least some whoop-ass, and Tempest Domain brings plenty of it. You get proficiency with all armor and weapons, Divine Strike at level 8 for boosted melee damage, you can use a reaction to inflict lightning or thunder damage against any enemy within melee range that’s hit you. And if you climb up high enough in levels, you gain a flying speed equal to your walking one whenever you’re outdoors. Pretty nifty, and makes for a fitting subclass for a guy that’s voiced Thor on multiple occasions.

Blood Hunter (Order of the Lycan): I mean, come on. The only reason it isn’t number one is that it was already widely assumed this would be Travis’s pick for campaign two, and I wouldn’t put it past him to surprise us again. But still, we saw him get a taste in Liam’s one shot and he was clearly having the time of his life. Besides, we lost Molly far too early to really see the blood hunter’s potential come to life; it would be damn cool to see someone else take a crack at it, and Travis is enough of a D&D gambler to not shy away from the class’s riskier features.

Artificer (Armorer): Speaking of Marvel connections, if Travis doesn’t lean toward fantasy Thor, then fantasy Iron Man might catch his attention instead. Artificer is an official class now, and since it’ll be reprinted in TCoE by the time campaign 3 gets underway, it’ll be a lot more visible as an option. The Armorer sits in almost a perfect middle ground of what Travis has done before: tanky and a frontliner, but also still has spells and tricks to help the party. Plus, you get a badass suit of power armor out of it. What’s not to like?

Marisha

Bard (College of Creation): After Hazel Copperpot, we all saw the pure magic that was Marisha Ray playing a bard. I know she implied that Hazel was supposed to be her campaign two backup character, but I hope this doesn’t discourage her from making another one. There are quite a few bard subclasses, a number of which I could see her being drawn to (Lore, Glamour, maybe even Swords), but I really vibe with the idea of Creation. I can’t exactly say why; maybe the idea of the ‘dancing object’ feature in Marisha’s hands is very funny to me (remember Keyleth’s adorable “Be Our Guest” moment? That, but this time it’s a walking wardrobe beating the shit out of the enemy).

Paladin (Oath of Vengeance/Conquest): As of yet, no one on Critical Role has ever played a paladin from the start, only multiclassed later down the line. I think this would be a cool departure for Marisha. Both campaigns she’s played characters that were either suspicious or at least indifferent to faith and the gods. Paladins are typically associated with deities, but they’re not tied quite so closely to them as clerics are. It would be fascinating to see what she did with it. As for the subclass, I just think Marisha’s earned her turn on the Goth Character Carousel, and while I know Conquest paladin is very unlikely given its moral grayness by default which might cause undue conflict and that Vengeance is a much more likely and acceptable pick, I just think it would be a sexy character choice.

Wizard (Bladesinger/Graviturgist): This is a much more pie-in-the-sky, wishful thinking pick on my end, but not impossible imo. Marisha has experience with heavy spellcasting already, so she probably wouldn’t shy away from a wizard, but like Travis I suspect she likes a bit of oomph to her characters, and probably wouldn’t play as support heavy as Caleb does. To that end, Bladesingers get a bit more survivability and some modicum of physical prowess alongside their spells, while Graviturgists are definitely on the more aggressive side of the spectrum for wizard subclasses, with unique dunamancy spells to boot. I’m not sure how restrictive Matt would be about Xhorhassian characters in the next campaign if it takes place on another continent, but hey, you never know. Plus, she picked one of Matt’s homebrew subclasses for the current campaign; it would be cute if it happened again.

Liam

Druid (Circle of the Shepherd): At some point before Critical Role comes to end (hopefully far in the future), I know Liam’s gonna play a druid, I can feel it in my bones. He's too big of a Kiki fan not to. However, while Circle of the Moon might feel obvious given the potential for homage and how much he likes turning into animals, I feel like he might regard it as getting too close to old territory (also, I don’t know if Circle of the Moon is like an exclusive thing to the Ashari tribes, and if it is that would be rather restrictive for building a backstory). If that’s the case, Circle of the Shepherd feels like the next best bet. It has some great support options via the totems you can put down, and rather than becoming badass animals, you instead just get really good at summoning a fuck ton of them. It’s like Frumpkin, but ten of him. And they’re bears. (Honorable mention: If Circle of the Moon would feel like treading old territory then I’m certain Circle of Wildfire would too, but I’d bet my dice collection it would at least be tempting).

Cleric (Unity Domain): Listen. The pure sap potential that would be at Mr. O’Brien’s fingertips with this subclass is incredible. The domain all about strengthening and protecting the bonds between friends and loved ones?? The domain with the Channel Divinity that can spread damage taken by one creature across the party however the cleric chooses to distribute it to lessen the blow to the individual??? The domain that used to be called the Love Domain???? I’m practically gagging on the soft moments and unspoken devotion conveyed through spellcasting already.

Fighter (Rune Knight/Psi Knight): Liam has yet to play a tank in a long-term campaign, and while I’m more enamored with the potential of the above classes, it would be novel to see him play a character with an actually respectable amount of hit points. However, I feel like if he was gonna commit to a straight frontliner, he’d probably want something a little more unique than a Champion or Battle Master (especially since he’s played those already for one-shots). Rune Knight has some fun options and built-in flavor, and with Psi Knight you can basically be a Jedi. Not bad options at all if you ask me.

Taliesin

Warlock (Fiend): Yeah, it might be expected, or Percy might have been too close to warlock anyway to feel like there’s new ground to cover, but hear me out. Both Percy (who, let’s face it, was a warlock multiclass in all but the actual mechanics) and Fjord were the classic reluctants. They got in over their heads without really knowing what was going on, and once they did they wanted out, cutting ties with their patrons and getting clear with only the scars remaining. I want to see Taliesin commit to a warlock in a way I imagine only he could manage to pull off. How fun would that balancing act be, to have a character that has no intentions of breaking their pact, who’s here for the powers, and is willing to work that delicate balancing act between keeping what he’s got and not letting his contract holder get the better of him? Give it to meeeeee.

Sorcerer (Psionic Soul): Psionic Soul has a bit of that eldritch flavor that vibes with Taliesin so much, with the added interest of introducing a brand new feature to 5E, the Psi Die (with this subclass, using them can do things like letting a sorcerer learn a spell they don’t already know for a few hours, allow you to cast spells without needing verbal, somatic, or material components, and can give you telepathy). Taking both Percy and Molly into account, it seems Tal likes to lean into those unique additional mechanics, and while Psi Die aren’t as risk-heavy as Gunslinger or Bloodhunter, they do add a layer of variability and unpredictability that seems to match his style.

Rogue (Swashbuckler): We only got a little bit of time with Molly, and so missed out on the opportunity to see Tal play a more cavalier character this time around. If he feels like leaning away from spells next time and back toward martial, I think a high-charisma, high-swinging swashbuckler from Tal would be a delight to watch.

Laura

Barbarian (Path of the Ancestral Guardian): Laura deserves to hit things, okay? Yes, spellcasting is great and comes in clutch frequently and Jester’s amazing, but you can tell Laura misses doing fat stacks of damage to the enemy in a single round. I personally think it would be amazing to watch her just cut loose and go full rage machine. As for the subclass, I’m not glued to the idea, but Ancestral Guardians are pretty kickass, have decent support capabilities for a barb without detracting from their DPS at all, and it doesn’t tread on any previous characters’ toes or their aesthetics.

Rogue (Scout/Soulknife): Laura deserves to play her favorite class at last, okay? She’s been class poached two campaigns in a row, and though that resulted in both Vex and Jester and I wouldn’t trade them for the world, Laura has earned first pick. Seeing as she already dipped into Assassin as Vex and Sam took Arcane Trickster, I could see Scout being a viable subclass choice. It’s in the classic sneaky vein, relatively simple in concept, but comes with features that grant easy-to-understand benefits that you can never turn your nose up at (boosts to movement, advantage on initiative, giving advantage against a target to everyone else in the party, etc.). If she’s looking for something a bit flashier, Soulknife has the benefit of retroactively dunking on Vax by taking the basic knife-rogue and making it better, with psionic knives that you can manifest with a thought, that can teleport you around Whisper style, and cranking up that stealth to ridiculous levels by just being able to turn invisible for ten minutes, no concentration or spell needed. The psionic die mechanics are a little funky of course, but I don’t imagine it’s any trickier than learning to manage all those cleric spells.

Monk (Way of the Open Hand): Between Beau just being super cool and her brief stint as Farriwen Breeze, monk wouldn’t be a surprising pick from Laura. An Open Hand monk might be the definitive version everyone knows, but you can’t deny it’s a solid subclass, and between previous overlap and the concepts of the other subclasses just not seeming to fit, I could see the classic being what she went with. But hey, it’s Laura Bailey. She could surprise us with Way of the Drunken Master or something.

Sam

Ranger (Monster Slayer): Let’s be real, I don’t think this would be his actual first pick for a Campaign 3 character, but the amount of shit-stirring he could achieve by making a character with the aim of pissing off Laura Bailey specifically would be hilarious (and since Matt isn’t completely opposed to UA and acknowledges that PHB ranger has a lot of issues, I wouldn’t be surprised if they went Revised Ranger this time).

Warlock (Genie): Actual first pick here, Pact of the Genie Warlock is confirmed by now, and the potential of a warlock in the hands of Sam Riegel is pretty vast (for some reason I’m imagining he would go the ‘spoiled sugar baby’ route). The subclass doesn’t matter as much, but the Genie one is nice in that, depending on the type of genie patron you pick, you can get a wide variety of extra spells, you get a container like a classic lamp or lantern that you can bamf into for short rests, and you get a limited Wish ability for your capstone, all features I feel like would especially appeal to Sam.

Barbarian (Path of the Wild Soul): I want to see Sam play a fairy barbarian. ‘Nough said.

Ashley

Fighter (Eldritch/Echo Knight): Ashley really seems to vibe with the crushing power of martial classes (she does love her brutal kill descriptions), so I could see her sticking with it rather than going back to full caster. However, I do see her picking one of the magical subclasses for some variety after Yasha. Eldritch Knight is a classic and reasonably easy to manage, but tbh I’d LOVE for it to be Echo Knight. And think, if my wishful thinking came true, with Ashley picking an Echo Knight and Marisha playing a Graviturgist wizard, they could link up their backstories and be a traveling Kryn battle duo that left their homeland behind to explore the world!

Sorcerer (Draconic): If she does want to go back to full-time casting, Sorcerer doesn’t require near as much bookkeeping as a cleric, druid, or wizard while still having decent variety, and the Draconic subclass is a bit beefier than the other subclasses. Also, it would be the third campaign in a row where Ashley Johnson’s character eventually got wings, soooo...

And tbh I have no idea what a third pick might be for Ashley, so I’m just gonna throw a dart or two at the board and say either College of Whispers Bard or Way of Mercy Monk *Shrug* We can only wait and see!

#critical role #if anyone else has thoughts i'd love to hear your guesses!

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 3 years

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A Little Bit Like Home

You moving to school has been tougher than Calum would like to admit but there are some moments that make it easier to bear, there are small moments where it’s not so bad.

A continuation of these two blurbs (Blurb 1 and Blurb 2) Again it’s hella self indulgent. Inspired what really happened to me in my DnD campaign, see this post.

**Contains spoilers for the Waterdeep Heist from Dungeons & Dragons if you are currently playing that module!!!**

Enjoy my masterlist!

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“Can I make a perception check on the walls? See if there’s anything else funky in this room?” you ask, clicking over in your browser tab to the dice roller. The DM allows you to make that call and you click on the d20.

“Your the only one rolling well on those things tonight,” one member of your party, playing an Orc sent out to learn magic and getting packed in with your ragtag group, notes after their failed attempt to pick the lock. You managed to pick that that too, but you chalk it up to you being a Drow Rogue and lock picking being one of your skills.

“18,” you call out, looking back at your character sheet to make sure you’ve done the math correctly.

“18?” The DM asks, just to be sure. You nod. “Okay, so you look around the room and there’s not really anything worth noting besides some dirt and blood. But no traps, no buttons in this room.”

“This room,” the entire party echoes laughing. The six of you have just survived barely a lightning trap. Which you still refuse to admit to setting up, but it was definitely you since as the marching order had you in front.

“We’re going to have to go back to that mimic room,” the paladin of your group declares. Your party was warned that the room at the start of your adventure in this hell of a magic maze could be a trap and a mimic could be in the depths of it. But there was a chest still yet to be opened. However, you took the advice of your Orc and backed out of that room to avoid a fight just yet.

Your previous encounters in other rooms leaving some of your party is better shape than others. This early in your adventure together the five of you didn’t really want to risk loosing anyone just yet. Lightening and your pirates love of ale seemed to be your only foe at the moment.

“We should maybe just see what’s in here first,” Calum, playing as a Druid, counters. “Though it seems like if we find yet another key to a door that’s already been picked, it’s might be useless.”

You know the tease is directed at you. “Hey, look here buddy, I will not hesitate to shoot a quiver into your ass. I see a lock I’m going to pick it,” you defend.

“Besides,” your party’s pirate starts, “we’ve ducked a lot of rooms afraid of getting into another fight. If they pick a lock or two and we find the key later, at least we can add to the Bard’s collection.”

“Thank you,” you laugh.

Soon your party’s able to direct their attention back on the adventure and magic maze you’ve found yourself in. You and Calum end up smashing mirrors in a room to avoid any sort of magic in them that would cause your party to fight your soul doubles. This leads to a five minute debate of how to leave said room that didn’t involve shoving the unicorn that your party was tasked with finding up someone’s ass due to a riddle unveiled, Everything you see is mine.

“Wait,” you say, laughing at the argument about who can fit the unicorn into their mouth. It was deemed to be more dignified. Your pirate waits outside the room, still naked thanks to the magic that rips all the clothes, weapons, and armor off of anyone that attempts to leave the room. “Everything you see is mine. If the mirrors are smashed, then nothing can be seen right?”

“No, shards can be face up, so technically things can be seen,” the party’s Bard counters.

“No, no, you’re onto to something,” the pirate starts.

“Oh my god, we’re so fucking dumb,” the orc hollers. “Someone cover their eyes. You means us. Anything we can see can’t leave the room.”

Thankfully, you’re still dressed having only attempted to leave the room and letting others continue with their naked escapades. “Holy shit,” you shriek as you direct to your DM how you cover your face with your hood and hold it tight around your eyes so you can’t see anything and step through the door. You’re able to cross completely clothed, swords, crossbow, and pack still in tact.

“We’re so fucking STUPID,” you laugh.

Calum’s giggle cuts through the speakers of your laptop. “How were we so prepared to just be fucking naked through the rest of this maze?” He directs to the DM that he redresses, having also attempted several times to brute force the magic door with no success.

“We never speak of that,” the orc demands through their own laughter. “Never.”

The party comes to a stopping point about another hour later, saying goodbyes before leaving the Zoom meeting. Not even thirty seconds later after ending that call, an incoming FaceTime call comes from Calum. You answer it, wiping at the corner of your eyes. He’s grinning as the call finally connects. The weekend that Calum came up to visit, a friend in the cohort asked you if you’d be willing to going a beginner’s campaign. You had wanted to give the game a whirl but you knew it would be a time suck and asked if it was okay to bring someone else along too.

After getting a yes from the DM you know you had to convince Calum to join in. It took less effort than you thought for him to join in and the two of you spent a couple hours the night before picking out your characters before you emailed the information back to the DM. Now every Saturday night you and Calum spend about three hours in a Zoom getting into all sorts of trouble. He settled easily on the Druid but spent forever trying to find an artist rendering of his character, Okolian, that felt right. Long black hair with streaks of white was a must along with a single braid as well, which he stole from your character’s look though your hair is all white.

Slowly, it was decided that Okolian would have blue skin muscular, but not overly buff and refused to wear sleeves in order to wear leather arm bands around his biceps which could easily be mistaken for tattoos or markings of his people. Okolian prefers his staff but is also armed with a sickle and mace. The Calum touch of course was to add ferns rather than feathers.

“I can’t believe you were going to let me be the one to have to figure out the unicorn,” Calum teases.

“Hey, it was only six inches. Not that bad.”

He sputters his laughter. “Is that payback for calling you out for picking all the locks?”

“I would never do such a thing but maybe.”

“Anything else on the agenda for tonight?”

“No not really. Whatever work there is out in the world, I’ll get to it tomorrow. What about you? The night’s still young.”

Calum shrugs. “A friend was supposed to get back to me about drinks tonight, but I haven’t heard anything yet. If he gets back within the hour or so, I’ll probably tag along but if not, it’s not a big deal. But you never did tell me about last night. How’d that go?”

You cover your face for a second, remember how many drinks were consumed the night previously. Calum laughs at the slightly panicked look that crosses your face. “There was two drinks too many past my usual limit and I felt it. Big time,” you answer.

He’s glad to hear you getting out more. It’s in turned made him feel a bit better about getting back to his normal routine, getting dinner more with the guys or other friends. Missing you doesn’t hurt so bad anymore for Calum. He feels most often right before he’s going to bed, when he’d normally curl up into your side and open his arms wide for you to curl up into him. But it hurts less during the day.

Getting used to the cohort and getting out a couple Friday’s in the month has helped you as well. You don’t feel so chained to your phone, don’t feel so beholden to being there for every text right away. It’s still hard when you start to cook dinner and almost reach out for a second plate still by habit. And in the morning when you’re fixing your cup of coffee your brain still wants to pull down a second cup. Sometimes you do. Sometimes you just give in because you need it. Need to let yourself sit with those feelings.

“I’ll be sticking with cider after last night,” you tease. “Wine makes me myself too much. Never doing that again.”

Calum’s been privileged to see you wine drunk a couple of times and he can already imagine the type of trouble you nearly got yourself in. “Is your picture on the wall at the bar?”

“Not that bad, but close,” you giggle.

“What am I going to do with you?”

It’s just a joke but for a moment it makes you pause--what’s going to happen when you go back for break? Are things going to be different? Most of your clothes and things are still there though slowly more and more has been shipped to you. Is Duke going to remember you? Miss you too?

“Promise me the house isn’t too different?”

Calum furrows his brows, head titling just a little to the side. “What do you mean, baby?”

“Like without me, is it all going to be different when I come back?”

“It’s all pretty much the same here. Duke’s the king of the castle. Still have plenty of hoodies for you to steal and your side of the bed still misses you. I still miss you.”

“No, I--I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like I don’t want you to find ways to cope but I don’t know. What if it never feels right? Like so much has been missed that I just won’t ever fit in again?”

Calum shakes his head. “Babe, no. You still belong. Your shoes still have space in the closet. Your mugs still sit in the cabinets. There is so much of you still here--it’s how I get through the days.”

Maybe that’s what’s rough for you. There’s not much of Calum at your place. There’s none of his dirty laundry that’s halfway hanging of laundry baskets and there’s no bass rumbling and there’s snoring next to you at night. It’s all you, which is nice. But you wish you had a little bit of Calum too.

“There’s none of you here,” you say softly.

“I can fix that.” It’s a steady confidence, a nod of his head at statement. “Don’t you worry.”

You two steer the conversation to something lighter before you call it a night. And it’s harder to get up the next morning, to peel yourself out of the sheets. But you do it, you push up with a grunt and get your day started. Coffee, a quick bowl of cereal and fruit. You call Calum right before lunch to check in and then get back to work.

As the days pass, the conversation the ache gets buried in some stress. However, you get a text about a package to get from the lockers at the front of your complex so shuffle down the path thinking it’s the new mattress pad you ordered. It shipped late last week but you hadn’t expected it to arrive this soon.

As the door swings open to the locker you spy Calum’s handwritten on the label of the package. What the hell had be gone and done? You pick up the box and kick the door close with your foot before taking it back up to your apartment. Setting the box down on the kitchen counter, you find the scissors and cut into it. Right on top is a small envelope with your name scribbled across it.

You said you didn’t have anything of me. So I knew I had to correct that. I hope they help. And a little thing from the old man, well not from him. But you’ll understand when you get to that.

Love you.

Digging into the box, you notice a few guitar pics, a couple extra t-shirt and then a long thin box. You pick it up, noticing it looks like a necklace. But with Calum you never can be sure. As you crack it open, you laugh, finding a gold chain staring up at you, attach to it is a tiny locket that as a paw print on it. You crack it open though and find a tiny picture of Calum and you inside of it and your eyes well with tears. It’s from your last vacation before you left for school, just two of you reclined on the beach and Calum kissing your temple.

You draft a text to Calum. Tell Duke it feels like home now.

#calum hood #calum hood blurb #calum hood fanfic #calum hood angst #calum hood fluff #h writes #5sos #calum 5sos #calum hood x reader #calum hood x reader insert #5 seconds of summer

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sally-mun · 3 years

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OKAY BITCHES ON TO PART 2!

Also don’t forget to check out Part 1 if you haven’t yet!

British

Okay so maybe it’s in poor taste to start the British section with dolls I’m not actually sure are British, but fuck it. The one on the left is a doll I’m reasonably sure I got from a British seller, and the one on the right seems to just be a scaled-up version of it, SO. That’s what I’m going with.

No joke, the left doll is my favorite Sonic plushie EVER. It’s so incredibly fluffy and the proportions are just right and it’s really well-made and AUUGHH I LOVE HIM. Interestingly the doll on the right is made of the same uber-fuzzy material, but it doesn’t have as much of a fluffy effect because of the larger scale. Also the shoe stripes are ribbons for some reason, which makes them stand out from all the other dolls.

So this is from a line of dolls that, as far as I’ve ever seen, are simply known as “Europe prize” plushies. I don’t know if they were actual prizes for some sort of game or claw machine or whatnot, but that’s how I tend to see them listed. These dolls are REALLY nicely made and incredibly cute, like way more than usual. I also have the Knuckles from this set, but he doesn’t live in this net so he’s not pictured here.

I know this line also included Sonic (obviously), Amy, and Shadow, but I’m not sure who else. I’d REALLY like to get the others someday, but I don’t have much hope for that, since they’re long since out of production and prices just keep going up as everyone cashes in on nerd collector culture.

This doll is fine enough on its own (if a bit fearful in the eyes), but what’s really odd about it is that it’s like literally twice as tall as the other dolls in its line, for some reason. I have the Sonic and Tails from this set, and their sizes both match each other, but for some reason Knuckles is a tall boi?? Oh well.

I believe this set also includes an Eggman doll, but I’ve never seen it before.

I wish I’d thought to showcase it better in this photo, but the tag on the bottom of Sonic’s right foot here is the real spotlight of this doll. I don’t know much about the background of this doll, but i know that tag on his foot is what distinguishes him from other Sonic dolls, and collectors go NUTS for this guy. I remember missing out on one years ago because the shipping was too costly (it’s always been rough importing from Britain, but it used to be a lot harder), and for a while I thought I’d never get one. Oddly this one that I did eventually nab is the only one I’ve ever seen with suction cups. I’d like to hope that one day I could get the one that doesn’t have them, but I’m not holding my breath.

Following the last doll, I’m sure a lot of you are immediately noticing that this Tails also has the tag on his foot, albeit a very faded one. This doll is also super odd, because EVERY other time I’ve ever seen this doll before, it has NOT had the foot tag! This one is the only one I’ve encountered with the tag, and I didn’t even know it had it until it arrived in the mail. This doll is also about 50% bigger than the Sonic doll with the foot tag, maybe he goes with the non-suction cup’d Sonic plushie? I don’t know off the top of my head how big that Sonic is supposed to be, so it’s possible! Or maybe these dolls have nothing to do with each other, and I bought some weird anomaly. Definitely one of the weirder Tails plushies in my collection.

Australian

EASILY the ugliest doll I will ever own, short of maybe obtaining the Tails that matches this set. (Trust me, the Tails is REALLY FUCKING UGLY.) I have such mixed feelings on this lil guy because, as many of you already know, this is one of the elusive Sega World Sydney dolls, which means it’s EXTREMELY rare and thus meant to be treasured... and yet holy shit guys how did you fail so hard on this doll. I mean FOR FUCK’S SAKE HE DOESN’T EVEN HAVE SOCKS! OR FINGERS!! There were plenty of Sonic plushies in the world by the time this doll was created, and they all socks and fingers, let alone better designed faces. I dunno man, I don’t know how to reconcile how ugly this doll is.

And then there were two.

Those of you that’ve been following me for years have probably already seen these before, but fuck it, here they are again. The Sega World Sydney plushies are the ONLY official Sally plushies to exist, and like the Sonic one, it’s really difficult to reconcile how incredibly ugly they are. I mean I can at least cut them some slack with the faces I guess, because the one on the left isn’t terrible I suppose. I think the fact that she doesn’t have hands is really stupid, but I mean, if Sonic didn’t get fingers I guess I’m not surprised Sally didn’t either. No, the thing that really gets me about these Sally dolls is the hair. It’s hard to tell from this angle but it’s.... bad. Oh my god it’s so fucking bad. It looks like she had a bad incident with a weedwacker. WHO THE FUCK DID THEY HIRE TO DESIGN THESE PLUSHIES?!

Whatever, I don’t turn away official Sally merch. Vests exist for these dolls, but as you can see I don’t own them for either of these two. I do have a third, smaller Sally that DOES have her vest, but she doesn’t live in this net. Maybe another time!

More bad Sally hair, this time without legs because she’s a hand puppet. She probably has the worst hair of all of the Sally dolls I personally own, it’s very clumpy and matted. The others’ hair is at least still fluffy.

I’ll let the fact that she doesn’t have hands slide here, being a puppet at all, but even then it’s only because I’m feeling generous. There’s no reason she shouldn’t have had them.

SOOOO not technically a plushie, but it was in the net and I’m doing Sally items right now anyway, so fuck it. This is a mini-backpack, but the fabric is so furry that it’s pretty much impossible to get a clear picture. I left the strap there sticking out just to help give some idea of what shape you’re even looking at.

I can’t remember what I paid for this, and honestly I don’t care, because it’s so unique and I’ve never seen another one since.

Bootlegs

A friend of mine sent me this as a surprise a few years ago because he thought it was cute, and I definitely have to say it’s one of the more fascinating items in my collection. Most of the time bootleg merch is trying to imitate something official to confuse the buyer, but so far as I know this is completely original! I love it because it’s what I imagine Sonic would look like if he were an Animal Crossing character. The most bizarre detail of all, though, is that the tush tag has the logo for Detective Conan instead of Sonic the Hedgehog. I HAVE NO IDEA WHY.

This is a fake version of the Fang/Nack doll from Sonic the Fighters, but honestly, I don’t mind at all that it’s a bootleg because holy shit this doll is higher quality than some of my official ones! (I’M LOOKING AT YOU, SEGA WORLD.) According to the pictures I’ve seen, I think he’s actually even better quality than the original he’s copying!

It’s hard to describe just how nice this doll is, because the picture seriously does not do him justice. The stitching is perfectly clean, the proportions are absolutely perfect, the fabric is soft and high-quality, and oh my god the HAT!! The hat is AMAZING, it’s actually solid and holds its shape VERY well! The same goes for his tail too, on that note. Plushies with long tails tend to have trouble maintaining their shape, but this doll’s tail is really well done. He also has a much longer muzzle than most dolls of this time were willing to use, which again helps his proportion and overall accuracy. I don’t give one single shit that this doll isn’t official, I love him so fucking much! <3 <3 <3

Other Dolls

What can I say, I fucking LOVE Nick Wilde from Zootopia, and this is one of the best dolls of him I’ve ever seen. It’s actually really nicely made (they put a LOT of work into his shirt), and he’s very soft and huggable. Also, bless that smarmy expression, they got it just right.

Jumbo Tom Nook! This is the only jumbo plushie of him I’ve ever seen, so I’m glad I was able to nab it. The fabric is oddly shiny though, and I have no idea why?? I have several Tom Nook plushies from different doll lines, and I’ve never seen another one that’s shiny like this.

Decided to picture these guys together because why the fuck not. I apologize for the lack of clarity, but I’ve never been willing to open their bags. I want them pristine~

One thing I think is cool about the Undertale dolls is that there’s so much uniqueness put into each one. They all have differently shaped tags to reflect their individual personalities, and the plastic bags they come in have different patterns as well. The fabric patterns all completely unique to each one as well, so they’re not all clones of each other (especially with Papyrus).

You can actually still buy all of these guys right now on the Fangamer website! They’re pricey, but you get a quality that makes the price worth it, and you get a discount if you buy them together!

Vault Boy from Fallout, and for some reason I’m just now realizing that I don’t know what vault number is on his back. I feel like a terrible fan, FORGIVE ME. He has also never come out of his bag, so sorry for viewing difficulties here as well.

Companion cube ‘fuzzy dice’ for the car. This is one instance in which I have actually not used the car-related plushie in my car, as at the time I got this it was VERY difficult to get companion cube merch of any kind (these dice were actually a compromise with myself because I still couldn’t afford a regular cube), and after the work I put in to find these I definitely wasn’t going to risk them in my car! Just as well anyway, because they’re awfully big and would’ve been pretty cumbersome to look past.

...I did, however, put these in my car for a while. These are fuzzy D20 dice, because come on, if you’re going to hang dice in your car and have the option to use these, how can you not?? It definitely got a lot of compliments, even from people that simply saw them through the window. I didn’t even play tabletop games yet at the time, I just really liked them~

AAAAND THAT’S IT~ At least, that’s it for this net! Maybe I’ll do this again with the other nets sometime, if you guys would like to see more. I do have another one that also very much needs a dusting, so we’ll see!

Thanks for tuning in!!

#IT IS COMPLETE #I hope you guys like it!#please let me know what you think because this was a lot of work!

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smallestclowninthecircus · 3 years

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Tma season 2 notes baybeee

I made myself take several breaks so I could give my frie d who is listening to it at the same time as me a chance to catch up. Honestly just posting them so I have them saved somewhere but whatever.

ep 41: real graham wrote keep watching before he was replaced. Jon feels like he's being watched. But they werent replaced by things related to the eye. It's the web that's on the box that replaces them. Endless hallways and doors to nowhere. I bet nicholas will have ideas what entity this relates to. If it even does. They're like the tunnels in the one with the builder guy. Tunnels closing in etc. Also like the cave diving one. He's assuming it's just one

ep 42: so 100 gecs? (IM SORRY I LIKE 100 GECS BUT LMAO) so there's some entity related to music right? There's the piper episode and the 27 w/ the calliope. Ah yes, this season is gonna be the season of Paranoid!Jon

ep 43: section 31? fucking books. god no. smashed lights? cult lady did that. covered the lights too. she mentioned a spooky clown doll. thats not random.

ep 44: is this that same circus that got mentioned before? it is! the pipe organ! pop off organ! pipe off! mouth on the stomach! yes! mouths in unusual places my beloved!

ep 45: antiques! like that one ep!

ep 46: every time books get mentioned i sigh. hhh sus smells. it got brighter. I get the vibes occasionally that the dark and the eye are sorta at odds with eachother. GRRR BARK BARK LEITNER. ayyy ex altiora. entity go brr. which entity do we thing it is? my guess is The Dark. The book buyer's name is Mike. He has scars? Electricity? The childhood friend of the guy who got it later on perhaps? The Vast? its formatted like an entity idk. This happened before the other one. He got trapped in the wood carving. a win for the web lol spiders go brr

ep 47: did i hear spiral? ITS THE NOT THING FROM THE EPISODE WITH NOT GRAHAM "it didnt move, it shifted" is like the exact same sentence as before. ay john's starting to remember. the laughing woah thats weird. is "michael" one of the entities? "you make it seem like theres a war" supports my theory that theres a struggle between a couple of the entities. I said i thought it was the eye and the dark i believe but im not sure. its whatever entity michael is vs the worms? what did nicholas say the worms were again? The Corruption? still dont know which one michael is tho.

Had to take a break after that episode. smth about the quality of michael's voice makes me feel like im gonna slip into one of those states where it feels like nothing is real, so i got a nice cold glass of water.

ep 48: jesus ok this one's kidna corny. you're telling me love made the crowd go away come on now. Ur losing it big J. also shouldnt it be more sus that "sasha" is so unaffected by the worm incident/ finding of gertrude's body

ep 49: haven't we heard hector's name before? oh is he the crime guy? fucking jared... so it's a throat? chompa chompa. (it's just a little bit hot) the good part about these episodes is that we know whoever's telling the story isn't gonna die. even if it's a close call, they're not dead. hotworth? ok not jared keay. it bothers me how theres so many repeated names, can they not come up with other names? "sasha"'s computer is breaking... sus. Elias our favorite weed man! jon ur so paranoid lmao

ep 50: robert smirk, at it again. this is like that one episode with the old dude who locked his door. who said idle beforehand? was it smirk? fingertips. thats so weird lmao. bahahah tim

ep 51: simon fairchild. im sure jon will mention the name at the end i cant remember where we've heard it. this is just like the cavediving episode. a hand? there was a hand in the last one right? the scalpel! and an eye thing. she's trying to throw them off.

ep 52: thats the guy from before! with the hearts! god i hate this guy writing the statement hh. lights blowing, and brackish water. we know how this ends but its still tense. rainer? reigner? rain man. we've seen him before

ep 53: pls not a leitner. oh boy mans scratched out his eyes. rip skelly. why would gertrude have had this statement off the books? jon stabbed himself?? bruh im? big man are you okay

ep 54: cockney boys! ayy its our favorite delivery men. she cut out their eyes. she knew that the eye was a thing?

ep 55: oily residue like the retirement home!

ep 56: worms? no. spiders?? bruhh. aaah yelling :(( aww martin anyways yeah i called it about paranoid!jon he needs to take a nap and drink some hot chocolate and calm down for once please

ep 57: just remembered, i think theres an entity called The Lonely?? This feels pretty lonely idk. fairchild, lukas/ lucas, some spooky place in norway idk. "sasha" knew he was recordinig hmm suspicious cmon jon figure it out. Sasha and tom. hm sus. for records sake i feel liek i should note here that I did have it spoiled to me simply that that's not sasha, but thats really all. i assumed it was like the thing that happened to graham in S1

ep 58: i feel like i recognize the name eustice (?) wick. someone please tell me im not just watching jon's descent into madness over the course of this podcast. im hoping it isnt so but, (and pardon the dsmp reference) im getting real wilbur vibes from this one.

ep 59: oh dear ok account from the fielding house. swirling designs? Spiral time? oh boyy. oh wait! 6 inch hole in the middle! is it not a spiderweb type design on the table? thats what i had assumed but that description sounds more like a spiral thing. cobwebs is a Web thing. ayy nicholas was right! the box goes in the table! the place that she kissed him was burning. Raymond is an avatar of The Web and agnes is the burning one. Lightless Flame! Why did she save him? i guess she was against this guy eating ppl or wtvr but why was she at the halfway house then? I think she's like michael.

ep 60: the eye go brr

ep 61: breacon and hope once again. tom. sasha's boyfriend. vampires sleep in coffins. the guy just walking in seems similar to the mind control of the vampires

ep 62: bones! its that one leitner. is this mother keay? the mom of gerard? this is what happened to her right? her skin was found on hooks? oh yeah thats what i thought the pages are made of skin. yeesh. The End!! sounds like an entity. phrased like one, and i think i remember it. are the people trapped in the pages? or... kept?

ep 63: eaten by the darkness! cavediving episode! (just like eaten by the sky) did my brain make up one called The Vast? it feels like it should be one, and all these episodes have some similar description about their feelings when they do whatever chosen hobby they have. ok now this one kinda feels like the dark. lights going out and all that. ok so not really a The Vast thing, its more of a Dark thing. feckin smirk gah.

ep 64: dice! the death guy! the death game thing! the person tricked somebody else into becoming death and then they were immortal? but if the egyptians wanted to kill him or punish him or whatever couldnt they just kill him? it worked in the end when he had the person giving the statement stab him, that did the job and actually killed him

ep 65: finally jon is actually acknowledging something is wrong.

So we know Mary Keay was revived most likely with the book by gerard.

Gertrude was way more aware of the entities than Jon. mary keay referenced The End openly and she cut the eyes out of her magazines and all that which makes me think she was aware of The Eye

ep 66: please not buried alive pleeaase not buried alive. lukas of the tundra? didnt we hear the name lukas before? she wanted it to be difficult to find important files because that way bad people couldnt find them?

ep 67: agnes... the girl in the hilltop house? agnes poppin off!! he's really not gonna question how she knew where he lived?? oh no D: the tree. were they the ones working on the house? aww they kissi- OH DEAR. why did she kiss him? it seemed like she cared about him? also she could kiss that other dude on the cheek and he was fine, but maybe it was cuz she was younger? lightless flame go brrrrr.

ep 68: oh god books. yup its bitchboy leitner. mans said "this seems supernatural, its a werd book!" bruuh.

ep 69: heh nice. aw cmon jon listen to martin. gahhh spiders. is that the class we heard about in the other doctor one with the teeth apple? some kind of psych class? oh dear. fucking spiders. aaaah. web do be goin brr. it's like the girl in the homeless shelter! who made the guy leave and she took his bed.

ep 70: is this gonna be the book that mary keay had? Most likely a leitner no matter what. Oh boy latin. Why did it start in latin then become old English? I'm guessing people put them in the book? He cant burn it. Phrophecies go brr. He says eh it's a decade in the future it's fine. Its gonna have changed. Ayy called it. Just accept it, it's a magic book. His death is getting closer. Leitner didnt make them but just collected them? Gertrude burned the book! She burned them down there so no one would know.

ep 71: oh boy tunnels. Our favorite thing /s. is The Buried a thing? Idk this seems pretty buried. Oh dear he's trapped here isnt he. "Not enough space to move, never enough to breathe" is that from the computer episode? With the guy who uploaded his consciousness? Somebody living down there. Hmmmm. Guesses: tom, sasha's boyfriend. Gertrude herself? (Though I doubt it)

ep 72: sweeney todd moment. Meat. The slaughter? Idk we'll see what the supernatural part is. Meat is meat. Similar to the slaughterhouse episode. Is it fucking Jared I swear to God it better not be. Hooligan teenagers, you know how it is. Meat is me lmao. Is the kid gonna be in the freezer. Ok that's good. OWW. Oddly textured candles. Made from people? Human fat or smth? Tom from the meat processing plant!

ep 73: outer bay shipping. Bet it's a subset of breacon and hope delivery. The Dark go brrr. Uh oh mans is gonna die. Leo or whatever. Cult ppl go brr. The people's church of the divine host. Who is the divine host? Is it reigner or whatever his name is? I dont think Jon can quit tbh. Probably an anonymous tip but from who?? One of the entities?

ep 74: fucking teeth hhh. I dont know which entity is related to teeth. Spiral. Isnt the spiral an entity. It feels like it could be related to many things idk. Yeah this sounds like the spiral. Heart attack at 29? Jesus... michael! That's kinda what I was thinking. Sasha goin in the tunnels. Hmm sus. They move the floor. Wack. Bet its tom.

ep 75: Man with a lightning scar. Has one of the leitner books. The childhood friend of the one who first introduced us to leitner. Oh my god that sounds terrifying. Michael crew.

ep 76: scalpel? Hmm spooky. NotSasha... think jon think.

ep 77: another double! NotThem, The Stranger. Not related to the table?

ep 78: what was that at the beginning? Question mark?? Oh boy more NotThem. Decker... what is the deal with the table. Does it contain the creature? Fucking Michael. Bitchboi himself.

ep 79: yes pop off martin. Ugh fucking Michael just leave man. I hate that dude. New person. Hmm. No idea who it is.

ep 80: shitener himself! Ok sir tell us the entities. Ayy The Spiral. Ok we know what that one is. The Eye is the beholding! Oooh. The Stranger. Did elias just kill leitner? Popping off honestly.

#Neptune tma notes

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