#A Giant Dog by Angel Park

[mylifeinsound]

A Giant Dog Delivers a Ferocious Night of Rock 'n' Roll at Johnny Brenda's

On a crisp and starry night in Philadelphia, the electric vibes of Johnny Brenda’s played host to a musical explosion of epic proportions. A Giant Dog, a band hailing from Austin, Texas, took the stage with an air of gritty determination, leaving no doubt that they intended to rock the night away. This memorable evening was also graced by the opening band Dregs, another outfit from Austin, and…

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[astralnymphh]

copy that, romeo

— ellie williams was supposed to be your supervisor, not your object of infatuation ~ ♡

⋆❝ this is cordero tower, calling in.❞⋆

CHAPTER ONE: SUMMERTIME INTERLUDE . NEXT CHAPTER > ♡. pair; firewatcher!ellie x recruit!reader

♡. summary; it's 1995, and the angel crater national park welcomes you; a retrograde lookout all to yourself, a space nerd for a supervisor, and a whole summertime job spent in hues of sepia and juniper, waiting for the first sign of smoke. ninety–three days. you don't know her face, you share no breath— but by walkie–talkie, you know her voice.

♡. a/n; READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. CLICK HERE. DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS. ALSO THIS.

♡. content; EVENTUAL SMUT, narrator present, silly fourth wall breaking, a dash of comedy, slowburn (somewhat), living alone, long–distance pining, reader/characters are similar ages(mid–late 20s), depression, heavy metaphor usage, complicated poetry styles, mentions of organs, mentions of weaponry, metaphorical death, grim humor, drinking alcohol, drunk!ellie, drunken flirting (vaguely and bluntly), ellie jumpscare, uh-oh sassy masc apocalypse, she's corny and cheesy too (a dork), awkwardness, humiliation, lighthearted bickering, nicknames used. [lmk if i missed anything] . SERIES PLAYLIST .

WC; 6.1k+ ✮ thank you @trackinglessons for your sexy brain and beautiful ideas + custom art ✮ masterlist ✮ series masterlist ✮ ellie ref sheet

Summertime is the interlude between misery and Mondays.

  May was a rough patch for you. A coagulated chapter within the spring world, a shunned ponder, red jello in the gradience of passage. Tempus, time. Early months hence were just as pessimizing, doubt is an arid reservoir in you. But, as a maypole sits a svelte giant in the sweet Beltane soil, braving an invisible smile whilst little ones— little laughters, spun prances and wraps of dainty satin to an ensnare on its long body, it weeped for its delicate capture. You; flesh coarse like timber, relate to the log standing, ensnared. Sunk in that gelatinous texture, unmoving as pressures collided with the surface outward, ripples everywhere yet incapable of sprinkling through you. Something would have to delve itself to drag you out.

  Chapters; cusp of autumn to April, every single month, wound ‘round you. They each had separating colors, and spared turns to soundly fold your limbs and bulge your skin in ribbons. It snipped your circulation, shriveled the ripe breath in your skull and traded it for a pressure. A throb. Weight upon the cranium, you felt the narrowing cradle inside wilt from thought, drain from consciousness, and soften your stiff eyes locked on drywall. Hour to hour.

  But those weren't the only things taunting you with a dance— expectations danced faster. Expectators, paired minds heaping expectations; yourself and the selves blackjacking their wants expressed as worries onto you. Stressful creatures, they are. Bosses, co–workers, energy vampires disguised as lover boys prowling about your workspace, general creatures of the retail world. God, they're like ravenous wolves snarling hunger through their teeth, slobber moonlight–bright of that dire carnality for variety meats. Depression just took the first serving before they could.

  Even the domesticated places are a wilderness untamed.

  Stress drained you of life. It softened your desire to even try. Gods are dulling, blamed you, on another dull morning where the trickling sound of coffee pouring drilled irk into your ears, rather than simply a trickle. Caffeine, a roast so void–black was brewed to un–drain you. Yet, it fuckin didn't.

  Impugning was your everything, until it could no longer purify; Elaine. Emptiness. Hmm, you gave this state of vacuum–headed hollowness a name, keenly because it deserved so by its dismantling of your autonomy. You don't want it. It's not you. It's Elaine. A some–angel fallen out of grace, weary of its wander upon a washed up cove, beige toned and swept shivering–cold. Interested by the warmth your sundry organs pushed into its light silhouette. 

  And perhaps, if the bird was never freed from its heavenly cage, it would be powerless to pester you, to poke the meat inside with the pointy end of plumage.

  Elaine was an organized assault on your wellbeing, moreso against the pulpy, pinkish-gray blob sitting ugly above your throat. Believe it, or assume it. A paralysis, moving shoulders from bed sheets proved farcical, running bristles over your teeth twice a day rhymes with nonsense, and midnight ink born to swirl and curtsy to convey thoughts gone rancid, goes unused atop the white flutter between your journal hardcovers. You have a morbid case of the seasonal blues, except this time, the season is beyond its blue hues. Spring, a fuckin’ kaleidoscope embellished. Blotches of big fuck you greens so vibrant you'd long to die from your tears, and an abstract spit of smell me reds thorny as your stomach brought to a scream for something. Anything.

It was a slow, banal descent into the jello.

  January, floating atop the sweet delicacy, atop your bed.

  February, the solidity gave out beneath you, goo subtly etching around your ankles, calves, elbows, unforgivingly cold when it first hit. When in reality, the bed was heating from your lay.

  March, marrow goes heavy, your limbs at this time could not lift, your efforts waned, and satiating the rumble in you with sustenance was forgotten, as that rumble got so, so.. quiet. 

  April, the jello had stuffed your nose, your sockets, and lullabied your ligaments. You let it happen.

May.

  You let yourself sink. Let yourself decompose and go mush in the head. Like a zombie.

  The descent doesn't taste of sweet delight, but it also fails to churn your lips with a heavy saccharinity. Neutral, your hopeful side did say. Nothing, rationality slapped past your lips.

Five months, either a misery, or a Monday.

  Yes Eve, a bite out of the Apocrypha will indeed fill this human abysm in me. Forbidden knowledge is my craving. Contraband of truth, bite to bite, I envy that I could not cope with its coating of my empty gut earlier.

  Innocence is so dull. You are depressed, not a fucking saint for staying indoors, starving your rage.

  But on came a crisp bouquet of biker–boy newspapers; ‘Hiring’, and a few scans further; ‘Do you harness a great love for the evergreen?’

  A honed section in Missoula's local print— jobs. A publisher boldens and compresses enthusiasm sporadically; writing–on–the–wall hollers speckle themselves meticulously on the newsprint that strike a sense of obligation into the susceptible and soft–of–heart chunk of the population. A pert voice read with persuasion between your ears, gritty in tone and stereotypical of a middle aged ranger, vocals fried by cigarettes but as booming as a cannon.

“Do you care for the animals inhabiting our national sanctuaries?”

  Abutting small paragraphs, the sagging belly of a black bear, tender caramel snout and snoopy–faced, fitted on its head a mustard yellow campaign hat labeled, ‘Smokey’. Its burly, blundering frame on all fours stood out over a comic–style vista of the Montana rockies, paws obscured by blocks of thickset text reading ‘Only you’.

  Huh, a realistic depiction of Smokey Bear— over a not–so–realistic background, avant–garde. 

  Tree greens sprawly that didn't shout ‘Fuck you’ on your poor, sunken eyes searing for sleep and a twilight darkness. Sagey lichens that didn't draw out the spasms above your own bones, calling your regard to bring pin–sized problems and blemishes sprawling your own flesh out of the bliss of ignorance. Brunette muds with only a fleck of sun, a slice of earth dull, humble and unprocessed enough from benevolence to leave you unconsumed, unsunken. A mere slop and pudge in the future and wake of your walk. Nothing obnoxiously grand, nothing sanctimonious. Nature is by birth— righteous, regardless.

  “Before we can be proud of our nation, our nation must be proud of us!”

  The advertisement gropes for a summertime made free. A cyclopean sinkhole in the becoming of time. Recruits–in–waiting are called to bargain normalcy and the bustling cities plump with lumbering limbs of sheen–tight pantyhose shaded under short shapes of plaid skirts for boot–cuts n’ backpacks hefty with gear that could either save you the trouble of mountaineering by path, or trouble your time with a faulty snapping of two things. Rope and neck.

Too grim?

  A months’–long moment of tension snapped at the pressure joint— Summertime the snapper.  You'd be devoting ninety–three suns, ninety–two moons, and some two–million breaths of fir laden air up in Angel Crater National Park, northwest of here. Pupils flickering the double-page setup, you continue: A pictographic, old–fashioned lookout taller than the timber spires surrounding would be your station, your core of operations, for those three young and sunny months. Boxed provisions and supplies are guaranteed to ship every other week, and testimonies encourage even the anxious, balmy buzzes of your brain to sigh in solace learning that the weald creatures there— are mostly harmless, if you aren't bred an imbecile. Alongside, an appointed supervisor, whose name was never disclosed duly except for a scratch of text gingerly clasped in quotations reading, “E.R.W” trailing the mention of said supervisor. What’s required of you was delivered plain written and patent on that shoddy newspaper, held thick in your intrigued thumbs; Keep the forest from catching wild fire.

  You fiddled the idea. Should I? Or should I wallow the summer away? Fiddled it anxiously, fiddled it needily, bumped the clumped rim of the newsprint on your cupid's bow in bending rumination, steadied it cause newspaper smells oddly good— but next to minutes racing hours upon musing, a conclusion had to knock your static looping of gloomdom in the butt.

  One phone call, and the bird would be barred again. Pesterer, Elaine the Terrible, would be cast back where eyes can't roll over the cottony clouds. Just a couple fucking prods to your number–pad, might genuinely un–drain you.

  Luckily, you aren't an idiot reared to take bullshit longer than meritted.

You took the job.

May 30th, 1995, 7:28 PM.

  What does any clever pedestrian traipsing capricious terrain store in their pack to avoid total gangly–branch–grips–of–nature butchery?

Item one; Black nylons— scratch that, you aren't getting paid to snag at every kink and curl of the forest, tighties of gossamery fabrics are a no–go. Citywear stays citywear. Double scratch on those sweet, blackberry Mary Janes too prized and polished to muck up in shit of the earth. Immolating the rigid underside of some chunky hiking boots to the unruly woodlands is the adrenaline pinnacle of out–worlding, come on. It proves you've got a hardy backbone and the right row of teeth to chew what you've bitten off, sullying boots ‘till the color is forevermore stained. Backup boots are tradition, so that's item number two. Best get used to cargo, ankle–length overalls and miscellaneous graphic tees, cause the rockies’ fashion gurus can't get enough of ‘em!

Clothing, check.

  Swathes of ropes twined pumpkiny orange and plenty of clanging anchors to bolt them in, goddesses and gods forbid you be tight on anchors. Medical kits— duh, did you trudge all from yonder just to die out here? This country is dicey, at the cuddly claw of a bear, or not. Hair ties, scrunchies you hoarded as a teenager in the eighties, disposable camera to suit your flaky memories, and an eclectic dump of nutty and fruity cereal bars galore. Unless you're allergic. Substitute.

Accessories and essentials, check.

  Ah, and a spare pistol and switchblade in replacement of newcomer paranoia! Keep that hush–hush though. No matches or lighters, obviously.

True American, illegal weaponry, check.

  All this paraphernalia bangs and clangs heavily on the polyester holding of your backpack, straining your scruff uncomfortably as you tiptoe, scarcely tumble, and tread lightly across a log. It creaks, it groans, it wobbles slightly over the blaring white rush of a stream, suctioning your heart–to–stomach when it grinds a wee bit louder than you thought it should.

  “Shit!” you crimp your torso in and dart wary hands on the timber beam at your feet, assuming a gawky newborn–bambi–pose in hesitation, shuddering in cracked tones, “This can't be the right way..” 

  Hoping on an evaporated sun, you frazzlingly testify in repetitive thought that the map mailed by the rangers a week prior led you on this perilous and incorrect path.. for the last two days. Winding and wounding, literally— your bruises are measureless and on top of that ache your skin to want no more of this. But, you have to. A boulevard of brown, short and stout, wrung unyielding from one gray side to the greener other, a shortcut. Assumed to be a shortcut, based on the route drawn by utter confusion.

Oh yeah, and remember the advertisement stating the park was twenty-five miles out?

Nothing about that hot-press, black-cat inked newspaper accounted for the extra eight weighing your ankles down and your motivation dead low. Twenty-five only stretched out unto the ranger parking lot. The entrance, for fuck's sake.

  Shaky flit of your digits, they float gently off the carve–veined surface of the wood, unfolding your spine as you rise. “Wrong way—” you utter to your chest, oven–warm as it puffs, “—gotta be the wrong..” 

  Tentative–ism is normal here, right? Like, no way you're cautious and sweating at the brow for nothing. Right? 

  One foot— creeakkk— in front of the prudent other, two sailing lunges, three hurried hops and a matched thud soft as marshmallows plants your shoes to hallowed ground. Blades of verdant whiskers so innocent crush under, and it feels fucking— demeaning, actually. All that gulping and pausing.. for nothing.

  You tuck a shoulder–glance to the makeshift ricket of a bridge, and blankface, “Didn't feel like killing me today?”

The tree bears no reply.

  “Hmph, surprising. Seeing as someone killed you,” a sigh parts, fading into the whip and straightening of your head, “figured the pursuit of revenge doesn't stop at ghosts.” and the hoist of your boot up, carrying onward.

  Sundown paints, crescent layers repose approaching moonlight and dying sunlight sprawls psychedelic limbs above you. Balance ambling in tiny bops only made the swirling grasp of those gradient rays more trippy on your eyes and coercive of daydreams, rot–nip for the brain. You spot nutbrown brick— a fireplace in your mind, fevered heat roasting on the inside wall of your forehead too. It was Christmas before the storm, a subzero December. And it was, in fact, colder than the unreachable heaven. Dad was hunkered down in front of that innocuous amber crackle, his right leg slack to the ground and his left arched in the neck of an acoustic guitar, arms plaiting its hollow curve into his chest. 1971, when the veil through and within was thin, and love–vomit poured so easily through. A time of justified ignorance; Childhood. 

  Stood you adjacently, legs short and posolutely not stout, dimpled in the knees. Aged two years, and mushy as ambrosia, contorting your mouth jubilant as you're told for the camera, contrary to your father with his expression drooping to his strumming fingers. Sickly sweets, adult–you unpurposefully neglects to twirl lips at, your extraordinary grins now turned ordinary flat–lines. Holiday memoirs, those spoiled ripe quick after adulthood bolted itself in the slabs of your tender spine and instilled an artificial love for labor and country, displacing nostalgia from ever being seen as a flesh existence. 

“Say cheese!”

  America is sub–human, and sub–humans created America, the imperfect cycle. Families tear, eagles outcry, friends drink their death, and the days continue to unfold without a trace of acknowledgement. Days exist where you soak festivities and stave off the pointer–finger poking at so called slack you relish, and some twenty dwindling years ahead the slowly deadening oak grove road, carousals will be criminally known as layabout–makers.

Joy is a luxury now.

  A blockage prevents your foot from winching clean forward, meeting the bone–hard kiss of a boulder to sore your toes. “Fuck!” you brand your throat walls to a shout, pissed at the rock rather than your woolgather that lead you to said rock, “Fucking fuckhead rock!”

  Woolgather means daydreams, by the way. Funner to use words that don't make a split of sense. Yay for English.

 The sunset clouds dripped with a mania of fascination and had strung your brain to its hypnotic whims, like a siren had soloed a trance, drifting your mind somewhere utopian and phantasmagorical. It sounds silly, but, blanking out seems so often out of grasp from your control, you usually could never flag what caused it, when it started, and why. Nothing practical surfaces. Fuck, your head is so tangled upon memories, you haven't even noticed the progression of scenery twelve o’clock from you. 

  Ponderosa boughs band together where your eyes brush shapes and forage for a clue of what scene wants to greet you ahead. The sequestering silence of rustles indicates a clearing, possibly. Possible as it could be, you fully expected this cruel footslog to wallop your ass into a minefield, so you bet cards and course carefully beneath the crowns of pine, completely bent to the chance of another obstacle threatening your tender ankles. Leafy whispers above strum your ears brimmed with its sotto voce song, and then— colors it silently behind.

“Holy shit.”

  Presence crumbles above you, and opens before you. The lookout. Wood shafts slant in opposing directions, up and up along four brawny beams in three consecutive layers, like a blocky cone. The face closest to you overlaps the backing rest, giving the illusion of tufted wooden legs sketched under all lackadaisical. Endgame daylight spies from behind this one–roomed cyclops, gushing final spurts of citrus rays as if it truly was an orange squeezed to pulp. So, the flank and forehead of that towering, mountainscaping lookout rolling a cold shoulder to the sun, paves in a tattered tapestry of garnet smokiness instead. Shadow of sundown. From where you sow feet, a football field apart, petty details are difficult to squint into clarity, but the window panes appear tawny, too.

  An intimidation, “So much for a tiny room.” A beaute intimidation, “And no actual bathroom.” it makes you feel like a genuine insect compared.

  A sort of stairwell serpent faintly chokes the foot, the calves, the thighs, and punctures kindly a mouth leading up to the skirting balcony hedged in many gaunt teeth. Tamping gravel closer, subtleties and fine points fade as the tower's plank–lined and flat underbelly turns to you. Larger and larger, it dips darkly from miniscule masquerade.

  Bringing your decently aching foot to the first step, you press into the curb and meander your cruder aching— thanks to a random boulder— foot weirdly on the outer ridge of your boot. Making it up the stairs to fund yourself a fucking break was a palpable mockery in itself. Like, ‘Hey! Climb this long–ass stairwell for a teensy break before doing it all over again the next day!’. 

Un–fucking–believable. 

  Fifty years of history and past rangers grate in your walk, the floorboards thump with their stories, thump into your skin— verse you a wordless eulogy. Each step is a sentence, and every sentence branches into a whole tree of genealogy, lives. Lifestyles you can't understand now, but will.

  Really redundant of me to highlight the generations alive in those floorboards. The walk up there isn’t that exciting.

  After the last step, you're met eye–to–frame with a scratched door, pygmy window centered and paper–screened from within, and the stories predating your stay inspire a comical theory, “Jeez— bears make it up here?” you half–suppress a snort, palming a fist on the doorknob coldly before rotating and giving sympathetic pressure to the door.. jammed. 

  “C’mon..” knuckles pulse into the knobs plate, gradually upping the force you pushed, “.. losing light out here..” eventually adding your other hand to sweeten the push.

  Sure, a whole year has gone by since it homed somebody, and it's retro, but come on.

  Breaking splinters into the door was your last intention, so you try so–so carefully— to some extent, “Please..” now butting the tip of your boot on the rim to ease it— ease, and finally pry, a clapback of wind blowing dusty, nightfall air past your crescent cheeks following the snap of the fallow door.

  Thank goodness for your grace and balance, some days, avoiding a timely trip face–first to a floor so powdered in light dust, any kid would mistake it for a good time sweeping snow angels. 

  Not so good for the respiratory system though.

  Muggy space filtering your lungs tightly, you cough out, “Gah— fuck!” nothing higher than the level of a guttural wheeze, your chest punching into your throat. Gaping out the last flock of butterflies clumped at your collarbones, the tickle inside calms, and you find your sights taking in a dark box. A dim orb of lily silver glow rests in the middle of the pall room, raising the natural, “Where's the ligh— ah, big clunky thing—” 

  Flicking the off–white and stubby nub attached to an impractically sized lightswitch, which frankly resembles an electric box externally, an essence of Apollo ladens the room. Lemony–gold light, passably bright off the redwood ceiling, and murmuring a low buzz through one ear, and out the other, your pupils caper along the contrasting shades awakened.

  “Definitely retro, but.. no roommates.” spoke you, gingerly content with the colors piecing this camper pad together. You observe.

  Forget–me–nots bled the cotton bedsheets baby blue, leavening the mattress with a tidy emotion as it's tucked, folded at the top and draped in a complimentary quilt— benevolent blues, hues your lids soften on. The bed beelined from the doorway, a corner counter fawn–brown as the wood extends adjacent to it, covering the northeastern angle of the room. Magpied brands of canned food clutter shelves, spines spanning thick books of epic poetry to sci–fi comics create a ribcage of literature along a compact bookcase perching that countertop, and sunken in the east side of it, a steel sink. It shimmered sunflower bands of light as you moved, a rainbow–arched faucet brightened completely.

  Step by step, you draw near a circular table in the middle. Strange rods and gadgets stuck out of the borders, inlaid glass protecting a local map so sleek you could see a phantom of your face in it, and a black bar looming the width, so it rings with tangible importance. Of which you'll gauge about later. Truthfully, the journey by foot here? Dead–beating, your knees bloated, throbbed flesh hot, and almost buckled; fatigues infamous way of scolding you to sit the fuck—

“Sup Maple lake, you there?” 

  A pang hammers to your heart, and a crawlish wave of startled blood pales from your face and drops to your jaw, “Jesus!” sweat hitting you a blink after, every normal function just— flunked. That voice, more like a ruptured stereo sizzling, caught you the fuck off guard. Now you dither, dumbassery taking your eyes through a new loop of figuring out where–why–how and what the robotic intruder wants.

  But pre–realizing, your ears perk to a more coherent, and outstretched string of static, “C'mon, know you're checked in.” and post–realization tugs your eyes to a mustardy n’ black cased device; a walkie–talkie.

  Okay, way to creep recruits out. Whoever, for whatever reason— at the nick of night too, gimme’ a break. You wry, knitting raisin crinkles above your nose, trying to discern your palette of options; pick up the walkie, tap in and feign politeness in the shortest and sluggiest scraps of small talk to be done with the day, or rant off the bat— highlight how fucking late it is, and how taxing a double–goddamned–day hike made your head and patience feel. And right now, the second response route feels arguably more tempting than—

  “This is Cordero Tower, calling in. Can see ya’ standing by the Osborne, by the way.” 

  Its staticy feedback has waned completely, densening a thick husk and tilting towards a honeyed undertone. Relaxed sounding or not, what the fuck.

  You react predictably, flicking your chin west, then east only for you to meet the dead of night— thanks mountains— stalking perfectly in every single window. So, useless to check. Answering it was a yes–go, it would be sickenly awkward to thrust it under the rug now. Your knees pull forward, eyes calligraphing the power buttons tinted in cherry light, palm drawing to meet your focal point.

  The case is ribbon gentle under your fingertips’ graze, fresh and in store–new condition. Maybe the only thing hot from the pot of newfangled technology. Plastic intricacies roll under until you settle on a swollen button, denting the plush of your finger as you press, hold, and speak. A crisp crackle activates your line, tuning you in.

    Breath hesitates between your chords, “Maple.. lake.. speaking,” off–the–tongue words manifesting on–the–spot, “you can see me?”

  “Yeah.” the walkie chuckles, sugary curl pitching up and through their tone, “Look out ur’ north window, you'll see her.”

Her?

  Nooking your nose north, you only widen pupils on that same, starless coast of darkness nosing the rim of your window sills. What do they mean to—

  “Nh–no,” You literally said north, “get closer to the window, n’ look up.” What, are you a fucking sparkling, rasp–voiced eagle?

  “Fuck are you talking about,” mouthed you void of voice, stumped on what this person was getting at. Wedging your knuckles below the meshy underside of your backpacks right strap, you wrangle it down your arm as you glide rubbery sole along croaking oak, tossing that bag so cumbersome atop a lily white pillow— looking fresher than a daisy, and clamber the mattress pliantly dented to your knees to grasp a broader panorama. 

  And with that window hood washed over, a convoy of fireflies focus a tiny constellation in the murked glass. Little pinholes of light, dots in the distance. They rough–hew a blur, but the excess seconds taken to brood squints and balance the blurry blotches, an outline crops up. Another fire lookout, sprouting from rock and rise of a berg. Offspring of the distant cordillera that gives this whole park its sense of a cradled–woodland, but either way thought, a lookout hosts it home on top.

  “You can see me from all the way out there?” you wondered, truly. I mean— at minimum, a sore sprawl of miles bridges you both.

  “Mhm..” a pause loiters that fluid hum, then some really throaty syllables, “Binoculars~” you could almost envision— nah, feel the stare of those binocs, undoubtedly taking note of every contort in your body right now.

  “Oh thats, totally.. not,” you blunt your tone, shying a few inches from the glass, “.. creepy.” awkwardly. “Uh, who are you anyways— are you like, uh, another recruit?” as you engage small talk, grumpy frown pouting, the habit of kissing your wrist to your jaw as you would a piglet–tailed telephone overruns your burnt out focus, having to wince the walkie away when your eardrums nearly burst.

Ouch.

  “For one, I'm actually your supervisor. I know, I don't sound like a typical smoker–lunged, middle–aged white dude.” their tone gruffs and deepens to impersonate, finger air quotes practically radiating from the other end, “And two, my name is Ellie— Ellie Miller–Williams, if you care.”

  “Don't.” you heave out the pain stretching your head, aching each time you simply thunk.

  “Straightforward,” her timbre ups in approval, seemingly, “I like it. I like you, recruit I dunno’ the name of.” and a bubble hics her throat, quite audibly.

  “Not single.” Wrong, just uninterested. Hooking two fingers in the fabric handle of your bag and craning it to the ground, with scattered grates of plastic buckles skating the floor.

“What?”

  Oh, shit she wasn't— oops, ‘course she meant that platonically, heads so damn muggy,  “Uh, it's—my name.. sorry I’m just a bit out of the loop—” Dumbass, unscramble your brain alphabet soup, will you?

  “That’s a long ass name, what were your parents thinking? Haha.” Her duo–beat chuckle flares your humiliation, and then proceeds to pinch its swollen parts into total inflammation, “Where does it originate from?”  

  Cheesy bitch, “Can you not— I like, pfhh..” you temper yourself with a moon–cool blow to chap your lips and inflate your cheeks, ending up with a draw of an even more loosened tongue sour as it complains, “Did a whole two–day hike through the most torturous terrain just to get here, I really don't—”

Please.

  And if gripes trudged through teeth aren't persuasive enough, you recess your bone–ache bod avidly in the springy haven of your bed which chirped at your weights shifting motions, collarbones packing down on your vocal chords. You shouldn't sound up to chat whatsoever. Instead, vehemently drained, “I just wanna get some shut eye, talk me over n’ the mornin’.” your thumb lying a button away from disconnecting. 

  “Hey, hey—” Ellie ushered, her slurry breath fogging up the mic. Lips squeak softly into it, smacking before an intone, “Can't I be a little curious?”

  You synchronized in noise, sucking teeth behind heart–pursed lips, “Do you think somebody this exhausted has the appetite to entertain you?” stilling your thumb–pad on the power off key.

  “If I keep bothering you,” that alone ticked you, her blatant drive to carry on when your brain rejected its substance, “.. yeah. Maybe you'll be nicer then too.. huph!” a heartier peep hicced up on the speaker, and right then that noise jogged a discovery.

“Are you drunk?” has to be.

  Of course, she ignores the naked and sorely obvious, “Did your boyfriend break ur’ heart or something— an’ that's why you're out here?” bottle sloshing in the background of her mumble.

  Dumbstruck, you furrow a miffy expression, “W–what, boyfriend?” 

  “Said you weren’t single.” she recalls, warmly unspinning the fuddle that knit your brows, “Think I forget so easily?” drawled like a sultry retort, baking your ears.

You a hundred percent forgot though.

  Gosh, short–term memory sucks, or it's just your energy drought making you woozy. Blame it on lethargy, “No no, that was just.. tired talk. I thought you were hitting on me.” 

  “Oh? That's cute.” her choosing to say that latter statement unfolded discordantly, you seriously couldn’t gauge if that was a flirt, or another paper daisy— mock honey, a platonic notion. Even so, it sounded so damn smooth, lace to the ears. “But no, I wasn't— m'not like gay or ‘whutever.” stammered her, light snort fanning.

  A stifled chuckle hops from your chest, mixing with hers, “Uhuh, cool.” halfway uncaring and halfway amused, bafflement working your facial muscles. 

  “Yeah, um, but seriously..” her voice drifts into a ponderous rasp, the faint rustles of flimsy paper licking page to page subtler than her speech, “what's got you out here, newbie?”

“Newbie. Really?” A brow pricks.

  “I mean, you're new— new to the lookout, new to the job, in need of my phenomenal supervision and my wide range of knowledge. Yeah, a newbie.” 

  Then your brow mellows, tension held in your face dropping dead on backhanded flattery, “You are funnily agonizing.”

  “Aw.” her scratchily suave coo has your jaw set like stone, “That's so sweet.” but her short–lived song has your heartstrings soaked in ripe honeycomb, touched to the core by sweetness nebulose and an assortment of some foreign threads. Thickened heart, tighter ribs, a churn to weaken your stomach, a maverick of things unfamiliar to you.

  Momentaries, but still noticeable even if your senses were twisted backwards.

  Chewing over how you'll begin to explain, a few letters sift through your chords, until you hook on a sigh, “Ah, well, I'm out here for a fuck ton of reasons—”

“Reasons, or— huhp, problems?” Ellie blurt–hics, nosy.

“..”

  A brief gulp and exhale wheezes from her, “Sorry, it's the bourbons’— super good. Continue.” 

 You loosely split your mouth, gasping to exchange a gale for words pressing out, “A series of reasons, and problems, that I don't bother to lay on a grand platter, so you'll get a summary tossed on an appetizer plate.” you preface. Allow an elliptical gap to cut through, rousing her hum to let you know her ears are as intent–peaked as a Chihuahua’s, “Contact with my parents’ has gone cold, my last job made me want to hurl into a pack of crocodiles— and the city became too loud and too heavy–handed. Saw this job on the local paper, and got the hell out of dodge.”

An omissive summary, you meant. 

  There’s more that eats the heart. People can’t just.. drop the burden of knowledge wantonly on randos like they’re idling under fertile treetops waiting for the apples to plummet, biting into a pulpy biography. She’s just a girl, not a therapist.

  A discomforted purr lengthens into her reply, “Mmmmh, ever try a drink or two?” her intoxicated reply.

  “Oh, see,” you flap your hand and slap it to your denim clad thigh, “you are drunk.” as if she could even see your gesture.

  “No, I’m Ellie, hmhm~” comes with a giggle, and you consider her state of insobriety to be— wavering, but it’s stimulating to hear her fluctuate between groaned jokes and extra raspy comments, “Still haven’t told me your name though.”

  Some moments during this whole ‘Who are you?’ seminar made you concerned for your future here— if you’ll make it out psyche intact, but some moments found by winnowing through the illogical backtalk touched you with inbound camaraderie.

  Invisible touches that inhabit your neck with a leak of your name so— sincerely. It transforms into a fairer sound on your ears when she repeats it, affirming it. Nobody else's teeth clutches your name so welcome as she.

  “Hmm, ‘name kinda fits your voice.” odd commentary, but since composed with her already peculiar and drunken tongue, the shoe fits.

  That said, crabby confusion seems easier to articulate, “Thanks, weirdo.” but lips rebellious, they press an inevitable grin together. 

“No problem, sleepyhead.”

So many nicknames.

  Recognizing that downtick in hubbubs and breaths on the walkie, checking out for the night posed as a passionate option the burden weighing your eyelids couldn't or shouldn't veto. So you haul your torso up, kick and poke your toes over ankles to butt your boots off prior planting your heels, whisking toward the lightswitch and committing your lookout to swell with the outside's dark fresco. 

Stygian tones.

  “Speaking of sleepy heads..” you taper off speech, leaving the rest to her— touch wood— wide enough, hopefully–not–drunk–enough imagination to fathom as you slide and slip desperately beneath woolen blankets, sleepy worries, and sentences sailed to rest.

  “Aw man.” Ellie bums so, so stupidly, for comical value.

“Yeah, man.”

  “Mpht—” wetness smacks, “wanted to bore a pretty girl to death with recruit regulations and syllabi..”

How would you know?

  In reality, Ellie was reaching a transcendent caliber of wasted, drinking up your atmospherics and drunken to her gutly core. Woods hatch forlorn people; forlorn people get thirsty, “But, mhh, heads’ nearly falling off, whoof.” she expresses a soaring of vowels, but it parallels a gruff howl more. 

  Drowsy, buzzy jubilancy, plucking her flirty strums. You sugarcoat the flare in your chest hearing ‘pretty girl’, ears clicking to the swallow convincing your heart that Ellie was not flirting. As established; She’s under the influence, and not gay. Your brain repeats that, over and over, repeat, repeat, she isn’t flirting. 

  “Hey, here's a tip..” you inch the walkie a penny away from your flopped head, clefting your lip open, “Don't get drunk on the job. They didn't hire you to decoct your brain the day before chaperoning a recruit in the literal wilderness. So, stash that shit, n’ let's both get some shut eye, yeah?” and saying all that, may have just cashed in your last dose of breath and brain cells for the night.

  Ellie being Ellie— well, what you suspect is a ‘her’ thing after these few speckled minutes, dopily laughs at you. And dammit if she wasn't glamoring a dopey smirk in accord, you’ll have gleaned wrong.

  A voice, “Who’s the boss again?” her witty and cruel wisecrack, “They didn't pay you to boss the— hup, boss around.” 

  They will pay you to confront and reflect your spectrum of limits if this girl brushes their seams, that's for certain. Or, play God and lambast her, tender as milk.

  There's even a stroke of a chance, that your crooked lips poached her dopey grin instead, “Kay, well, maybe they'll reimburse me for your poor services.” 

  “My services are not poor. You'll see, tomorrow.” the volume of her melts away, going muted under liquid swills clanging on glass.

  “Please tell me that's the sound of you putting the bottle away.”

  “Mhm!” came out plugged, the bottle confining her garble, then popping clean as a cork, “Fuck— okay,” she siphons air in, pure little clink tinting the end of her sharp–edged sniffle, “Make sleeping in earlier worth it t’morrow, wanna drive you nuts with my questions.” she nasals, drawing near the mic again.

  Such a magpie, “Cause you're lonely?” and weird.

  “Shut up,” she shushes you, a satin whisper light–hearted and quick on beat, “M’not lonely anymore, right?” The type of softly spoken outcry that would balloon your cheeks with soreness if you were face–to–face with the throat that conducts it. Involuntary smiles plague you everywhere. But there is no mouth, no larynx, no throat that you view the swallow of. Just a walkie, so you settle in stoicism.

  You tug your upper–lip and pivot your eyes, drumming up something clever to combat, “In a sense. Not like we’re bunkmates, thank goodness.”

  “Fuck you,” Ellie breaks into a cuss spout so serenely, she sounded small and harmless, “just go to bed.” reduced to birch in winter shed of its brittle autumn arguments.

“Don’t gotta tell me once.”

  By the first full and emphatic giggle she cast just now that wasn’t suppressed nor achieved by humble pie, you take it that Ellie found you funnily harrowing just as her, two peas in an outstretched pod. Fault be with her, for getting wasted. Otherwise, you might have pried her skull open with questions dolled up as a pruner, clipping the forelimbs that are foliated in a messy breadth of first glance leaflets and attitudes until you piece it prettily, in a way that thralls you to never shrink your eyes back into their sockets. Drunk people are like prone beehives though, so you don't prod them.

Tomorrow, you can paint her portrait, or vice versa.

“Whatever you say, newbie.”

And with the whirry crunch of the walkie shutting off, Monday, came to a close.

if you enjoyed this chapter, please lmk what you thought!! i love getting asks about my content ♡

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#ellie williams #⋆⋆; 🌲— copy that romeo #ellie williams x reader #ellie tlou #lesbian #sapphic #ellie x reader #ellie williams x fem!reader #ellie williams fic #tlou fanfiction #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams series #firewatch!ellie #tlou ellie #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie the last of us #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams au #ellie williams concept #ellie williams angst #ellie williams fluff

[kyletogaz]

meet cute with kyle

“coco get back here!”

the dog pays you no mind, she just barks excitedly and takes off, much to your dismay. you stand there for a few seconds just watching coco run around the dog park, groaning loudly when she decides to make a new friend with the owner of another dog. you couldn’t believe the little gremlin’s audacity.

when you finally catch up to her, she’s circling the ankles of the prettiest man you’ve ever seen. he’s grinning down at coco, while his giant dog just sits there waiting patiently.

“what’s a pretty girl like you doing all alone?” you hear him coo, as he crouches down to pet coco.

your eyes widen when his fingers reach out for her. you can almost picture coco snapping her little teeth at the man’s fingers and it sends you into a panic. you pick up the pace as you open your mouth to warn him.

“i wouldn’t–”

your words cut off as you stare at them with a bewildered expression. coco’s actually wagging her fucking tail as she presses into the man’s soft strokes against her fur. you stop short. what? any other day, coco’s very wary of strangers. but today, she was being real sweet.

“well nevermind i guess,” you say with a roll of your eyes as you approach them.

the moment this man, this angel, looks up at you, you’re lost. “alright there, love?” you vaguely hear him ask. you don’t say a thing, you’re too busy ogling the man.

he has to ask you a second time if you’re okay, just for you to blink and say huh?

how embarrassing.

he just laughs softly, before flashing you a smile as he stands at his full height. you blink again, this time a little dazed.

“i’m so sorry, i was uh-” you snap your mouth shut at his amused look. you’re starting to get a little flustered in his presence, so you turn your attention to the little pomeranian instead. she’s staring up at you, wagging her tail excitedly. you shake your head with a little laugh. "i give you a little bit of freedom and you take it to the extreme every time."

"she yours?" he gestures to coco who was now playing with his dog's tail.

you're a little surprised at how well behaved the mastiff is while he's being harrassed by coco.

"oh, no! this is my neighbor's dog," you explain, turning your gaze back to the man before you. "i take care of her while they're away. i don't have any pets."

you gently shove coco away from the other dog, so you can bend down to reattach the leash to her collar. you lightly scratch behind her ears once she’s in your arms, whispering for her to never do that again.

"ah, that's very sweet of you, what's her name?" he asks with a soft smile.

you tell him her name is coco.

"she's a tiny rambunctions thing" kyle laughs as he watches coco wriggle in your arms. he reaches out to pet her once more, as she settles down in your arms.

"what are you, a dog whisperer?" you joke as you stroke coco's fur.

"nope, just kyle."

“well it’s nice to meet you, kyle.” your lips quirk up into a small smile as you shake the hand he's offering you. you try not to think about how soft and warm his hand is.

your breath gets a little stuck in your throat when kyle murmurs, “nice meeting you too beautiful.”

oh.

a soft whine from the mastiff catches both yours and kyle’s attention.

"what's his name?" you ask while bending at the waist so you can sink your fingers into the soft fur on top of the dog’s head.

kyle mastiff’s name is bear. it’s fitting, really.

you continue to rub bear’s head, laughing with delight when he presses his nose to your hand after you’ve moved it away. “you’re so cute!” you look up, eyes glinting, making sure you catch kyle's gaze. "might even be cuter than your owner.”

kyle sports an amused grin on his pretty face when he asks, “so you think i’m cute huh?”

you stand up with a shrug, adjusting coco in your arms. “maybe,” is all you give kyle, as you bid him and bear farewell.

"you never gave me your name!" kyle shouts from behind you as you walk across the grass with coco in tow.

when you turn, he has the biggest grin on his face that makes your heart flutter a bit. "i promise i’ll tell you my name when i see you again!” and it’s a promise you intend to keep, because you definitely plan to see kyle again.

"gonna hold you to that, sweetheart."

you don’t miss the way kyle’s eyes light up immediately when you wave goodbye with a sweet smile on your lips.

“c’mon coco. i may have just found you a new uncle.”

a/n: idk, this randomly popped up in my head at 2 in the morning.

#kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick x black reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #i don’t even like dogs fr lmao #kyletogazwrites #was gonna make it longer but decide to leave it here for a part 2 maybe

[aerequets]

Operation DNKYUAC (Do Not Kiss Yor Under Any Circumstances)

a/n: i wrote this in one sitting, it is 1 AM, i did not reread this even once, i am posting anyways with no thought of any consequences, and i am ready to fight a bear

anyways this is kind of a follow up to 'absence makes the heart grow fonder', but like it can also be read as a standalone, just a few things are mentioned throughout. also the tone of this fic is decidedly different so they really arent connected by more than a few threads LMAO

read on ao3

Rating: T 

He wants to kiss Yor.

It’s a realization that is as sudden as it is horrifying. And, like all important moments in his life, it happens by chance and hits him out of nowhere.

This time, she’s blowing bubbles with Anya as they sit under the shade of a tree at the park. Bond is snapping at the bubbles and Anya is trying to cup one in her hands to no avail. He watches—no, he wasn’t watching, he just happened to be looking in the same direction—as Yor puckers her lips to blow another bubble. A breeze sends the soap backwards instead, though, popping straight onto her mouth. She sputters and wipes her mouth and smacks her lips, grimacing in a way that scrunches her whole face up.

Suddenly he’s very curious about the flavor of soap. Which is a big problem.

Loid is so glad nobody can look into his head, because he would actually die from secondhand embarrassment. Was it secondhand if he was embarrassing himself in his own head? It didn’t matter. He quickly looks away and pulls his hat over his face, surreptitiously hunching his shoulders around his ears. Not a moment later, though, the hat is pulled off his face, and before he can protest he’s squinting up into the devious smirk of a certain first grader.

“You wanna do smoochin’,” Anya says. The sudden influx of sunlight in his face from Anya lifting his hat off his face actually has the side effect of piercing his throat, which is the only reason why he’s suddenly choking on his own spit. He would know—he’s a doctor. “Kissy kissies with Mama.”

“I don’t—what are you saying, ” he hisses, shooting up and snatching his hat back. Sitting up that fast actually assailed his sinuses, which is the only reason why he’s holding his hat up to his face right now and trying to use it as a poor approximation of a ventilator as he wheezes. He glances over to Yor, who is too blessedly distracted with Bond to have heard Anya’s totally unfounded accusations. He ought to get a treat for that dog. When he turns back, Anya looks totally unimpressed and—disappointed? The nerve of this girl!

“You shouldn’t say things like that out of nowhere,” he says after he’s caught his breath. “It could make Yor uncomfortable. Not to mention that it’s false. ”

It’s one thing to admit that he’s maybe more fond of this family than he ought to be, to admit that he’s perhaps a little preoccupied with Yor and thinks about her more than is needed in a way that isn’t purely methodical in nature like it ought to be. It’s another beast entirely to recognize that he wants ‘kissy kissies’ with Yor. He’d rather let that beast eat him alive, if he’s being perfectly honest for once.

If it’s possible at all, Anya’s expression further flattens. She angles her head as if listening to something before suddenly dashing off without another word. He watches her for a second before shrugging. Far be it from him to understand what goes on in her head. He’s just about to recline back again when Bond, in all his fluffy white maelstrom glory, barrels into his chest and knocks him flat onto his back.

“W-whoa! Down, boy!” Bond only barks and licks his face. His tongue gets nearly half of Loid’s face in one go. “Stop that! What’s gotten into you?” Maybe that treat would have to be put on hold.

“Bond, no!” Suddenly the dog’s whole mass is lifted off of him in one go. Yor stands above him like some sort of guardian angel with a giant dog in one hand and bubbles in the other, something which should not be as awe-inducing as it is. She puts Bond down off to the side and crouches down next to him fretfully.

Okay, now he can die of embarrassment. Nothing like your (fake) wife witnessing you lying in the grass with dog slobber on your face to put you six feet under.

“I’m so sorry! I blew a bubble right as the wind picked up and it went your way and Bond went after it and he didn’t stop,” she explains in one breath. “Oh, he really got you. I’ll get a napkin, hold on.” He shuts his eyes when she pulls away, wondering about the logistics of sinking into the ground.

He sits up when he senses her approaching and takes the proffered napkin. “Thank you, Yor.” He wipes down his face, getting his hair for good measure. It ruins the pomade and plasters some hair to his forehead, but he figures he can’t sink much lower than he already has and decides to run a hand through his hair, mussing it out of its meticulous styling. After a moment he notices that Yor has been watching him the whole time with an unusually indecipherable expression on her face.  “Is something wrong?”

“Hm?” Her eyes slide down to his mouth when he speaks. He feels a twinge in his belly, but has to remind himself that she’s looking at the copious amounts of slobber on his face and not at, well, him. He scrubs his mouth with vigor, snapping Yor out of her trance. “Oh! Uh—um, there was a little… oh, you got it! Good!” She laughs shrilly before jumping up and running after Anya, who has started to giggle like a cherub from hell.

He sighs and lets the napkin drop by his side. This was ridiculous. How many out of the blue, humiliating realizations did he have to contend with? He couldn’t go on like this, much less put the proper focus required into running Operation Strix. This was completely inefficient and a hindrance to the mission, which was why—

“—I’m requesting another business trip!” He finishes, slightly out of breath. He looks back from his comprehensive 52 slide presentation to Handler, whose expression and body language are both giving off ‘wholly unimpressed’. He still has hope. “Well?”

She takes a long, loud sip of coffee, during which he patiently waits without batting an eye. She finally sighs and sets her cup down. “What are you running from this time, Twilight?”

“Running? What do you mean?”

“I can see the sweat on your face,” Handler snaps. He swipes one sleeve across his forehead. “Goodness, you used to be a much better liar. Couldn’t fool me, but still.”

“Exactly my point,” he stresses. “You see what’s happening to me? I just need a couple weeks to fix myself up and everything will be back on track again.”

“That’s what you said last time. If I remember correctly, you came back from your two week trip more besotted with your family than ever.”

“ Beso— you know what, fine. But that time was different. Now that I know what to expect, it’ll definitely work.”

“I wonder what spurred this,” she muses in response to his pleas. “It must be Yor, am I right?” She watches with thinly veiled amusement as Loid’s ears begin glowing. “Ooh. Don’t tell me your head has come out of your ass since the last time we spoke.”

He throws his hands up. “I’m literally offering to have more work piled onto me. Why are you against this?”

“Have you considered that maybe running away isn’t the way to go?” She asks. “How is feeling things for your family a hindrance to the mission? Spending many weeks away from them seems like more of a hindrance to me.”

“How? How? ” He repeats, flabbergasted. “We can’t afford to feel things for people. We have to leave them all behind eventually. You’re the one that taught me that!”

“Yes, I am. And it’s one of the things I regret most.” She turns to a framed photo on her desk. He’s never looked and doesn’t think it’s his place to ask, not with the wistful smile playing on her lips. “I used to think that feeling things was what sowed pain, and thus weakness. But isn't that why we do this job at all? To make sure others can feel the happiness and safety we weren’t granted?”

“That’s… different,” he protests weakly. Yes, he was fighting to make the world a better place, to let children be children. No, kissing Yor was not going to accomplish that. But there’s no way in hell he can tell Handler that.

The softness melts from her face, leaving the true Fullmetal Lady that all WISE agents fear. “Oh, get over yourself. Go snog your wife or something.”

He knocks over all 52 slides, which he thinks should be further evidence to support his business trip plea, but Handler is unmoved.

…

Since Handler refuses to help him, he has to take things into his own hands. Fine. He’s manned a whole fleet of submarines by himself before—harder than it sounds, if you can believe it—so keeping himself in check around his fake wife should really be nothing. Thus, he enables Operation DNKYUAC (Do Not Kiss Yor Under Any Circumstances, pronounced ‘donkey wack’). The rules are simple: don’t kiss her. Ever. And don’t be tempted to kiss her either. Don’t want to kiss her, under any circumstances.

Unless she brings home sunflowers. Apparently that’s some type of limit.

“I saw these at the florist and I couldn’t help myself,” she beams. The flowers are exceptionally well-maintained, but Loid can’t help but think they aren’t really as bright as sunflowers usually are.

Yor’s smile widens and the flowers dull further. Oh.

“We should have a vase somewhere,” he says in order to turn away from her and busy himself in the cabinets. Anya skips up to the doorway and jumps upon seeing the flowers.

“Ooh! What’re those?”

Yor hefts Anya up effortlessly into one arm, angling the sunflowers toward her. “Sunflowers! They’re the happiest flowers.”

“Really?” Anya asks dubiously. At Yor’s nod, she grins and plucks one out of the bouquet. Loid returns at that moment with a vase, which is when Anya takes the opportunity to stick the flower behind his ear.

“What the—?”

“Happiness flower,” Anya says matter-of-factly. “Now you’re happy.”

Loid blinks a couple times before huffing out a laugh. “What are you saying? I was happy before.”

“Happier,” Anya concedes. She turns back to Yor, who is staring at Loid with a wide-eyed look. Anya does the same thing and sticks a flower behind her headband while she’s distracted. “There!” She wriggles until Yor puts her down and pats both of her parents’ legs. “Now you’re happy together. ”

She skips off, singing ‘mission accomplished’ as she goes.

Loid gapes after her, trying not to let his embarrassment show. He’d told her to stop saying those weird things! He quickly slides the flower out of his hair and places it in the vase. “Sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”

“Huh? Oh. It’s alright.” Yor follows suit and puts the rest of the flowers in the vase before plucking out the one in her hair. She twiddles it for a few moments before blurting, “It looked nice in your hair.” Then she drops it into the vase and hurries into the living room.

He vaguely remembers telling her that couples complimented each other, and she’d promised to try doing that more in public. She must have been practicing just then. There was no way it was anything else—he’d gotten a tennis-ball sized lump on his chin one time for daring to think otherwise.

He looks down at the vase in his hands. Happiness flower? Well, there certainly was something swelling up in his chest right now. He didn’t appreciate its presence one bit.

…

Okay, so he’d failed to think about the fact that Operation DNKYUAC wasn’t the best in theory, in that he should be able to kiss Yor under some circumstances. Like for their cover. Something that was undoubtedly important and a terribly gross oversight to have.

(If only he’d been given permission for that business trip.)

For heaven’s sake, he was a spy! He’d done far more than kissing before. Kissing is basically child’s play. Knowing all this, however, does not stop his legs from feeling like jelly when his hospital co workers reveal the mistletoe hanging above his and Yor’s heads at the decently large Christmas party they have just arrived at. Yor is wearing the hair pin he’d gotten her in Municht paired with a red wrap dress, which he’s been contending with by pinpointing all of his focus onto her left eyebrow whenever he has to speak to her. That won’t be able to fly now, though. He can feel the nerves taking shape into something vicious under his red dress shirt, suspiciously ulcer-shaped. How had he not thought to prepare for this? He was losing it.

(Again, if only Handler had approved his trip!)

However, his nerves all but evaporate when he turns and sees Yor’s pale face and pursed lips. She’s stiff, hand locked in the crook of his elbow, as she looks out at the sea of unfamiliar faces staring back at them, expectant. She’s uncomfortable.

“Mistletoe?” He says, looking up at the sprig. He lets out a good-natured laugh. “Oh my. Looks like that’s actually holly. The rules don’t apply now, do they?”

“Oh, come on!” The director speaks up. He’s clearly had one drink too many, made evident by his swaying and pointing. “Just kiss your beautiful wife. Or one of us will do it instead!” A chorus of chortles pop up, igniting a rage in Loid’s chest that he isn’t sure he’s keeping off his face. He feels Yor shift beside him and is about to ask her if she wants to leave when he sees something whiz past.

Was that a button?

The button (?) sinks right into the soft part of the director’s throat, causing him to wheeze and hack. His glass slips from his hand and shatters on the floor, splattering wine amidst the gasps and screams of the crowd.

“He’s having an emergency! Get a doctor!”

“That’s any person here, genius! Just hurry!”

Loid watches on, befuddled but not entirely unhappy with the turn of events. Technically, he can alleviate the director’s current breathing issues in no more than four seconds if he really tries, but he doesn’t find himself in any hurry to do so. To his relief, Yor also looks pleased with the fact that the attention is off of them.

“Shall we?” He gestures over to the abandoned refreshments. “I hear they have splendid hors d'oeuvres at these things.”

She bows her head, smiling serenely along with his play. The hairpiece twinkles in the lights overhead and he has to dig his nails into his palm to stop his hand from moving on its own. “I would love to.”

And thus, Operation DNKYUAC lives another day. Barely.

(Later, he notices a missing button from his cuff. How odd.)

…

“I’m going to stay up tonight!” Anya announces at 6 PM. “I’m going to watch the whole world change and you can’t stop me!”

“Sure,” Loid nods.

“Of course,” Yor chirps.

Anya narrows her eyes suspiciously, but their minds reveal no scheming plans.

“For real?”

“If you think you can handle it,” Loid replies. He recognizes the flare of competition in Anya’s eyes as she clenches her fists.

“I can! I will! For world peace!” (Whatever that meant.)

“I’m staying up,” Anya asserts again at 7 PM. Yor sets a cup of cocoa in front of her while Loid flips his newspaper.

“Of course you are.”

“‘M stayin’ up,” Anya maintains, yawning slightly at 8 PM. Bond curls up in the corner and she eyes his fluffy white coat. “Stay up, Bond.”

“Dogs have different perceptions of time. They don’t care about human New Years,” Loid explains as Anya nervously watches Bond yawn and stretch. “So Bond is going to sleep in his fluffy, warm bed now.”

“You can’t fool me,” Anya grumbles, rubbing her eyes. “I’m watching the New-Ears on TV!”

“New Year’s. And I wasn’t trying to fool you,” Loid shrugs.

Yor comes and sits next to a struggling Anya on the floor at 9 PM, resting her head on a knee.

“It’s too bad no programs are on at this time,” she sighs. “That means there’s nothing to watch for three whole hours until the New Year's program.”

Anya is out cold ten minutes later.

Loid lets out a low whistle as he waves a hand in front of Anya’s face. She’s truly out. “How did you do that?”

“I did this at least five times with Yuri,” she giggles. “It’s all about emphasizing the time that’s left.”

They put Anya to bed and clean up, eventually settling on the couch.

“Do you and Yuri usually stay up to welcome the new year?” Loid asks.

“Hmm. For the years in between him falling asleep before midnight and him getting a job, we did do that,” she says, a small smile on her face. “We made resolutions. It was mostly for the sake of having some type of tradition, I guess. What about you?”

At least three of the last ten New Years in his life had been spent dismantling bombs, but he wasn’t about to say that. “I haven’t done this in a while. Most days I’m up past midnight anyways, so it’s not all that different.” The only difference this year was that he didn’t have any late night missions. As if to rub salt in his wound, Handler had told him to take it easy tonight, ‘at home, with the daughter and especially with the wife’. She was a sadist.

“We could make resolutions,” Yor replies offhandedly. At Loid’s silence she goes ramrod straight. “Wait—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to assume you wanted that kind of tradition, or that you didn’t—”

“Don’t worry about it,” he interrupts, laughing. “I was just surprised. We should definitely do that. What kind of resolutions did you make with Yuri?”

“Mostly small things. Like, um… I resolve to make a new friend.”

Loid smiles before he can help it. How very like Yor. “That’s a good one. Hm, let’s see… I resolve to take at least one more break per day.”

Yor nods resolutely. “That’s good for your health. Let’s see…”

They go back and forth like that with resolutions, getting caught up in conversation and unaware of how much time has passed until the clock chimes half past eleven.

“Oh my goodness,” Yor says, startled as she blinks up at the clock. “I had no idea this much time had passed!”

“Time flies,” Loid agrees. “Maybe we should have written our resolutions down. We said too many.” He expects Yor to laugh, but instead a pensive look crosses her face. “Yor?”

“Actually… I have one that’s been weighing on my mind a bit,” she admits, shifting to face him on the couch. She fiddles with the hem of her sweater. “Uh, do you remember that Christmas party last week?”

He’s immediately on alert. “Is that still bothering you? I had a strict word with the director the next day about what he said. If you want, you can come to the hospital yourself and—”

“N-no!” Yor interrupts, rushed. “I mean, that’s—well, thank you. That was a little uncomfortable, but more than that…” She hangs her head. “I wish I wasn’t so… bad at the physical affection thing.”

He blinks. “What?”

“I mean…” Her face is heating up. “The mistletoe is common at a Christmas party. And couples are expected to kiss. If I wasn’t so bad at k-kissing, I wouldn’t have had to throw that button and cause such a mess.”

“Yor, it isn’t—wait, that button was you?”

“My point is, I resolve to…” She squeezes her hands together, face impossibly red. “To get better at the whole physical affection thing. In public, for our cover,” she adds on. “I don’t want to be a burden on our arrangement just because I get so flustered.”

“Yor…” His heart isn’t his anymore, instead threatening to burst out of his chest. Remember Operation DNKYUAC, he scolds himself, although he can’t really take it seriously when it sounds like he’s just repeating ‘donkey wack’ over and over again. She’s only doing this for their cover; out of a need to fit in with societal standards of what a couple should do. No other reason. That thought is the one that sobers him. “You are never a burden just because you have limits. You don’t have to force yourself to do something you don’t want to. We can always do other things to show people we are a loving couple.”

“But—” Her eyes dart between his. He feels both out of his depth and like he is in incredible danger, so he tries the left eyebrow thing again. It backfires when she leans in and looks at him imploringly. “What if I do want to?”

The air leaves him. “Want to what?” He croaks.

The countdown starts on the TV, startling them both. As the seconds tick down, Yor seems to mull something over before abruptly leaning in and pecking his lips. Tinny cheers sound from the TV speakers along with choruses of ‘Happy New Years’ and the blast of fireworks outside.

The kiss, like the peck on his cheek from when she’d seen him off on the train, is short and over before he can blink. But there’s no being normal about this. His brain is fried.

From a peck. He should be more devastated about the fact that there exists a person that can undo him with a peck, but the only thing he feels right now is the sense that he’s a balloon cut free. Something is floating in his mind, pinging at the corners, and he’s silent as he struggles to hold it down and give it a name.

Yor stares at him for a few seconds before her hands slowly come up to cover her mouth. “Oh my gosh. Oh my—oh no. Oh nonono.” She leans back on her haunches. “I—I thought the courage would last into the new year too,” she whispers to herself. Loid vaguely registers it over the din of his own brain buzzing. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Just ignore that—”

“Yor,” he says. He leans forward, the couch dipping, and brings both of his hands to the sides of her face, threading his fingers through her hair. Her pupils blow wide. “Open your mouth a little bit.”

“Huh?” Her lips part and his gaze is drawn to her mouth. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you with your resolution,” he says, “to get better at the physical affection thing.” Then he tilts his head and closes the gap.

So, Operation DNKYUAC fails miserably. And fails again. And again. He ends up breaking the rules of that operation at least fifteen consecutive times, but whatever. It was a failing operation from the start, with a stupid sounding name to boot.

But still—maybe he should start another Operation. Operation DNKYMTINBTYWHLOHTYCH (Do Not Kiss Yor More Than Is Necessary Because Then You Will Have Lots Of Hickeys That You Can’t Hide).

Another failing Operation. But a guy could try.

#spy x family #sxf #sxf fic #sxf fanfic #loid forger #agent twilight #sxf loid #yor forger #thorn princess #sxf yor #twiyor #loidyor #my fic #spy x family fic

[childhood90snostalgia]

90s/00s TV (Personal Memories)

Kids Cartoons

6teen 101 Dalmatians Aaaah!!! Real Monsters Ace Ventura Pet Detective Aladdin TAS All Grown Up Angela Anaconda Angry Beavers Animal Crackers (Telethon) Animaniacs Arthur Babar The Batman (The WB) Batman Beyond (The WB) Batman TAS Beast Wars/Beast Machines Beetlejuice Big Teeth, Bad Breath (YTV) Birdz Bobby’s World (Fox) Bonkers Braceface The Bugs Bunny & Tweety Show Butt-Ugly Martians Bump in the Night CatDog (Nickelodeon) Chip & Dale Rescue Rangers Cow and Chicken Danny Phantom Darkwing Duck Dexter’s Laboratory Dog City Donkey Kong Country Doug DuckTales Earthworm Jim Fairly Odd Parents Fly Tales (Teletoon) For Better or For Worse (Telethon) Freakazoid (The WB) Freaky Stories Free Willy (ABC) Garfield and Friends Gargoyles Goof Troop Hey Arnold I Am Weasel Johnny Bravo Katie and Orbie (CTV) Kim Possible The Legend of White Fang Life with Louie Little Lulu (HBO) The Little Mermaid TAS The Mask TAS Mega Babies Mona the Vampire (YTV) Monster By Mistake (YTV) Neds Newt The New Addams Family The New Batman Adventures (The WB) The New Woody Woodpecker Show PB&J Otter (Disney Channel) Pepper Ann The Pink Panther Pinky and the Brain Pippi Longstocking Powerpuff Girls The Proud Family The Raccoons (CBC) Recess Reboot The Ripping Friends Rocko’s Modern Life Rugrats Rupert (CBS) Sabrina TAS (ABC) Samurai Jack Short Circutz (YTV) Silverling (Teletoon) Sonic (Adventures of) Sonic SATAM Sonic Underground Stickin’ Around Tales From the Cryptkeeper TaleSpin Taz-Mania Teen Titans Timon & Pumba Tiny Toon Adventures (Fox) Tom and Jerry Kids Total Drama Island Totally Spies Voltron the Third Dimension The Weekenders What’s With Andy The Wild Thornberrys (Nickelodeon) The World of Peter Rabbit and Friends X-Men Evolution (The WB) X-Men TAS Yvon of the Yukon (YTV)

Retro

Batman Fireball XL5 The Flintstones The Incredible Hulk Looney Toons Spiderman Tom and Jerry Yogi Bear

Adult Cartoons

Aeon Flux Beavis and Butthead Captain Star Celebrity Death Match Clone High The Critic Cybersix Daria Delta State Futurama The Head (MTV) John Callahan’s Quads (Teletoon) King of the Hill Mission Hill The Oblongs The Simpsons Space Ghost Coast to Coast (Cartoon Network) Spawn Spider-Man the New Animated Series South Park The Tick Undergrads

Anime

Beyblade Digimon Adventures 01 & 02 Cardcaptors Gundam SEED InuYasha Mon Colle Knights Monster Rancher Pokemon Sailor Moon Samurai Pizza Cats Shaman King Sonic X YuGiOh Zoids New Century

Television Series

7th Heaven (The WB) Alf (NBC) Animorphs (Nickelodeon) Are you Afraid of the Dark? Baywatch (NBC) Beyond Belief: Fact or Fiction (Fox) Big Wolf on Campus Boy Meets World Breaker High (YTV) Buffy the Vampire Slayer Canded Camera (CBS) Charmed (The WB) Clueless (ABC) Dawson’s Creek (The WB) Degrassi Junior High (CBC) Degrassi High (CBC) Degrassi the Next Generation (CTV) Dinosaurs The Drew Carey Show (ABC) ER (NBC) Even Stevens Family Matters (ABC) Fresh Prince of Bel Air Full House Gilmore Girls (The WB) The Golden Girls (CBC) Goosebumps Home Improvement Lassie (1997) Little House on the Prairie (NBC) Mighty Morphin Power Rangers The Nanny (CBC) The OC (Fox) Radio Active Sabrina the Teenage Witch Saved by the Bell (NBC) Sex and the City (HBO) Sister, Sister (ABC) Smallville (The WB) Smart Guy Student Bodies System Crash (YTV) Teen Angel (ABC) That’s so Raven The Twilight Zone (CBS) White Fang (1993) (CTV) You Wish (ABC)

Educational Programming / Children’s shows

Adventures in Wonderland Art Attack Babar (CBC) Banana’s in Pajama’s Barney and Friends Between the Lions The Big Comfy Couch The Big Friendly Giant Bill Nye the Science Guy Blue’s Clues Caillou (PBS) Camp Caribou Captain Planet Care Bears (ABC) Franklin (CBS) The Friendly Giant (CBC) Hammy the Hamster Iris the Happy Professor Kratt’s Creatures (PBS) Lamb Chop’s Play Along The Magic School Bus Mister Roger’s Neighbourhood (PBS) Mr Dressup (CBC) PJ Katie’s Farm (YTV) Reading Rainbow (PBS) Sesame Street School House Rock Sharon, Lois & Bram’s Elephant Show (CBC) Telefrancais Teletubbies Theodore Tugboat Thomas the Tank Engine Under the Umbrella Tree (CBC) Welcome to Pooh Corner Wishbone (PBS) Zaboomafoo (PBS)

Game Shows/Sketch Comedies

All That America’s Funniest Home Videos (With Bob Saget) American Idol The Amanda Show Battlebots (Comedy Central) Canadian Idol (CTV) Crank Yankers (Comedy Central) The Crocodile Hunter Fear Factor (NBC) The Hit List Jackass (MTV) Just For Laughs Gags (Comedy Central) Kids in the Hall Making the Band (MTV) Much Countdown (Much Music) Much in your Space (Much Music) MuchOnDemand (Much Music) Much Mega Hits (Much Music) Much Spotlight (Much Music) Much Top Tens (Much Music) Newlyweds Nick and Jessica (MTV) Playlist (Much Music) Pop-Up Video (Much Music) Price is Right Punk’d (MTV) The Simple Life (Fox) Supermarket Sweep Uh Oh Unsolved Mysteries (NBC) Video and Arcade top 10 (YTV) Video On Trial (Much Music) Where in the world/time is Carmen Sandiego Whose Line is it Anyway? Win Ben Stein’s Money (Comedy Central)

Television Networks/Programming

Fox Kids Much Music One Saturday Morning PSA’s Teletoon TGIF YTV - The Zone / Snit Station / Short Circuitz

[prompts-woooo]

Lyric prompts 3

Chosen by inexplicable feelings they give me

“You’ll be fine, you honey comb”

“Who could ever hurt you? Who could be so unkind”

“Stop crying, let’s see you smile”

“I feel like my body has died with my soul trapped inside”

“Come on, don’t you remember me?”

“Have you burned my effigy?”

“But traditions I can trace against the child in your face”

“I’m lost in admiration, could i need you this much?”

“It’s hard to be a (man) when there’s a gun in your hand”

“Fall apart without me, body”

“Your beauty never ever scared me”

“The horrible din when you play the violin”

“My whole existence if flawed”

“You can have my isolation, you can have the hate that it brings”

“You can have my absence of faith”

“You can have my everything”

“Help me become somebody else”

“but I’ll grind against your bones until our marrows mix”

“I’m your servant, my immortal”

“You die like angels sing”

“My pulse will be quickenin’ with each drop of strychnine”

“I wanna feel you in my bones”

“I’m gonna tear into your soul”

“Follow me, I’m on the brink of visual epiphany”

“God is in my skin”

“now you’re the only one here who can tell me if it’s true, that you love me, and i love me”

“Leave all your love and your longing behind, you can’t carry it with you if you want to survive”

“I don’t wanna die, I don’t wanna be alone tonight”

“You keep me dreaming, all I dream is you”

“I don’t care where you’ve been, how many miles, I still love you”

“I’m fucked up just like you are, and you’re fucked up just like me”

“If i die or perish, don’t mourn me. Just drink some red wine and break the glasses”

“If I die or perish, don’t call for any preist, just come to my grave to play a folk-dance”

“And I might know of out future, but you still control the past”

“Andevery night, I will be with you”

“But every night it just stays the same, in my dream of an absolution”

Songs listed in order under the cut

1-2 Community Gardens - The Scary Jokes

3-6 A Mannequin adrift - The Scary Jokes

7-9 Head Over Heels - Tears for Fears

10 Body - Mother Mother

11 Mary On a Cross - Ghost

12 When You Play The Violin - The Gothic Archies

13-17 Closer - Nine Inch Nails

18-20 The Horror of Our Love - Ludo

21 Poisoning pigeons in the park - Tom Lehrer

22-23 desire (slowed) - Hucci

24-25 Mirror man - jack Stauber

26 Kiss me, Son of God - They Might Be Giants

27 Dog Days Are Over - Florence + The Machine

28 Full Moon - Rare Americans

29 Soul On Fire - Mystery Skulls

30-31 Sloppy Seconds - Watsky

32-33 Ako Umram Il’ Zaginam - ??? (Translation by MoniStan on Lyricstranslate)

34-36 Dreams of an Absolution - LB (Remix Factory)

#lyric prompts #writing prompts #art prompts

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

ari!! it’s been way too long since i last dropped by!! i’ve missed you!! how are you?? 

now that spring’s here, i’m lugging in a GIANT basket of flowers of all kinds for you 💐🌷🪻🌹🌻🌸🌺!! + a curious sel question!!! — what’s your favourite thing to do during spring? what do you think bokuto's is? (or whoever is your hq fave!! tho i think i remember bokuto!) 🥺 

SELLLLLLL HI THERE MY ANGEL <33333 pls never worry abt when u drop by hehe, i’m always happy to chat w u whenever!!!! :33 BUT I MISSED U TOOO and ofc i missed ur lovely sel questions …..

i’m putting allll the flowers in pretty vases and sending u a giant heap right back 🌸🌸💐💐🌷🌷🌹🌹🌻🌻🌼🌼 anddd some fruit 🍊🍓🍎🍐 !!

as for the question !!!!! hm hm HMM i honestly think i just loveee going on walks…. nothing beats spring walks imo (autumn walks r a close second tho >:3) it’s just so lovely to stroll around a bright green park…. grab a milkshake from any cute stores i pass…… and seeing the flowers and the bees and everything is always so lovely hhh i can’t wait for everything to bloom :’3

AND AS FOR HQ … bokuto is a cutie but not one of my faves sadly 😞😞 MAYBE ONE DAY THO i’m a big fan of suncoded men so there’s a big chance honestly….. BUT for this question i’m just gonna go w nishinoya bc he feels like a very springcoded boy compared to my other faves !!

i think . :3 he ALSO loves spring walks…… loves to run around like a neglected golden retriever and explore cute little nearby towns <33 would love to pet any dogs he meets and maybe feed a couple duckies <333 i just feel like he LOVES the warmer seasons and gets sm extra energy that he needs to release….. he rlly is like a little puppy i love him sm :((( ANDDD i know he loves ice pops so i think he would just be FEASTING on those and i would be right there w him . we would have a popsicle eating competition and both end up w stomach aches <33 yeah. just fun little spring things!!

but with that being said... as protocol (and my curiosity) demands ….. what abt u sel 🎤🎤🎤 u very much strike me as a spring girlie so i need to know allll ur favorite activities <3 anddd for the hq guys … what spring activities do iwa and oikawa like ?? what would u all do together ??? :3

sel i am sending u all my sunniest vibes ☀️☀️☀️🍊🍊🍊🌻🌻🌻 i hope it’s starting to get a lil warmer and brighter where u are !! ty for checking in as always <333 and have a cute lil picture of ur boys as a treat… look how cute they are aaaa 🥺🥺

#i still don’t know the hq boys very well LMAO but noya feels like such a springboy to me!! #he’s the type of bf to wake u up early in the morning just bc he noticed some flowers in up backyard <333 love him so dearly. #i’m so soft for him sel….. rlly didn’t expect to love him as much as i do but . he’s noya!! he’s perfect!!! what can i say … #wanted to answer the question w tsukki and kuroo too but they both lowkey strike me as homebodies…… #as for ushi … i cant. rlly come up w an answer for him 😭😭 i love him but i can NOT think of an activity for him wow . #what i will say (now im just ranting in the tags but what else is new) is that daichi loves listening to the birds chirp outside :33 #and kita lovesss spring cleaning obviously. lives and dies by it. also goes to the market and grabs the freshest veggies and fruits <33 #my malewife #ILY SEL i hope u’re having a lovely day or night so far!!! mwah mwah <33 #ask tag ✩ #sel !! ✩

[averywiseanimatedcat]

Rewatching Good Omens season 2 liveblog

Season 2, episode 2 ‘The clue’ Post 1

Link to episode 1 post 1

What in the actual duck did Crowley summon here? It’s like a mini sun that shoots sun lazers?? Again-showing how powerful Crowley is he can summon a dam sun looking thing just to smite a few goats. Also unnecessarily dramatic, which I appreciate. Very on brand.

Be gay, so crimes, smite some goats with a giant sun you summoned out of nowhere.

This was so funny it was like they were in a play, and it was cute how Azirphale recognised him and was like ‘oh it’s yooouu’ and immediately dropped the Angel act

Fuck off Gabirel. If I could curse this Angel to a thousand years of stubbing his little toe repeatedly over and over again on a table leg in hell I WOULD. That’s all I have to say about Gabriel. Moving on.

This whole Job flashback is so important to setting up the the conflict of the season which ultimately builds up to Azirphale and Crowleys fight.

The main conflict of this season is Aziraphales fight with his own mortality and beliefs. It’s so sad to watch him get his hopes up just to have them dashed again and again when he’s trying to find reason or meaning in the events that are unfolding in front of him. He has a very strong sense of justice, and the events of the Job flashback are obviously disturbing to him. So much so that he actually goes AGAINST gods will to try and stop Crowley when he thinks he’s going to hurt the children. He spends the whole thing bouncing around between rebellion and conformity. And it’s really telling that he is still in the same struggle in the present day. He hasn’t resolved anything, he’s just gotten more comfortable with breaking the rules (probably bc of his scary dog privileges, aka, Crowley)

Moving on….

This is the face of a man in the process of experiencing the ick. His ick is anyone but Crowley or him touching his books but I think his ick is also Gabriel in general.

This is an ick we share. Fuck Gabriel. Even when he’s Jim.

I have multiple questions- first of all, does Crowley ever clean his windscreen?

Second of all-why does he park in this random ass street all the time? Does he want Azirphale to think he’s out doing something cool and important when really he has nothing to do and no house to go to? Then he can pull up all suave like whenever Azirphale calls? I bet this street is like 2 minutes from the bookshop so he can pretend he was far away then drive up at the perfect time.

You need a hobby Crowley, like a real one, and saving your Angel over and over again is not a hobby. You also need a therapist but that’s another discussion…

Also-I love how DISGUSTINGLY sarcastic he is this season. He’s really turned it up like five notches. Probably compensating for the fact everyone knows he’s attached to the hip with Azi so he gotta turn up the cool/unbothered sarcastic demon of the underworld act while he sleeps in his car with his houseplants. What a gay disaster I love him.

Aziraphale is a mood here not knowing what to do when someone’s crying infront of them

Me whenever I see Gabriel even when he’s Jim. That’s my middle finger if it wasn’t clear enough.

Fuck Gabriel and therefore also fuck Jim. I hope he drops his toast in the morning, spread side down.

BUT I have to admit-Jim is hyperactive ADHD personified and I appreciate the comedy.

But still fuck you Gabriel.

Azirphales face in the background when he thinks their about to discover Gabriel: a toddler who thinks if they can’t see you, you can’t see them.

Link to next post

#good omens season two #good omens s2 #good omens spoilers #good omens #go2 liveblog #azirphale #crowly x aziraphale #crowley

[honeyjets]

All the bands I saw in 2023

The Scientist

Renaldo Domino

Middle Aged Dad Jam Session

The Cottontails

Abracadabra

Naked Roommate

Dune Rats

Lola Kirke

Margo Price

The “Detroit Cobras”

Marika Christine

Analog Dog

Mae Powell

Wormy

Samia

Biig Piig

Tchotchke

King Tuff

Regina Spektor

Body Double

Michael Rault

Son Rompe Pera

Pearl Charles

Whitney

Indianna Hale

Tchotchke (again)

King Tuff (again)

Vic Wong

Agua Pura

Los Bitchos

The Cottontails (again)

Meredith Edgar

Mayya

Neutrals

The Green Door

Alex Lahey

Everyone Is Dirty

B. Hamilton

Peter Asher

Britt Powers

Kendra McKinley

The Paranoyds

Automatic

The Voidz

Karina Denike

Haley Kiyoko

Alex Lahey (again)

OGI

Santigold

Healing Gems

Subsonics

Gracie Abrams

Haim

Taylor Swift

The Seshen

Sour Widows

Juicebumps

Lucinda Williams

Big Thief

Curling

Curling (again)

Nation of Language

Curling (third time)

Kepi

Plash

Curling (fourth time)

Bev Rage and The Drinks

Bully

White Reaper

Spoon

Weezer

Pearl Earl

Dorothea Paas

U.S. Girls 

Swingin’ Utters

Caleb Santos

Codefendants

Lagwagon

Circle Jerks

NOFX

Sour Widows (again)

Cable Ties

Satya

Sheila E.

Abracadabra (again)

W.H. Lung

Black Polish

Hemocke Springs

Loyle Carner

King Tuff (third time)

Angel Olsen

Christelle Bofale

Molly Burch

Decisive Pink

Daydream Twins

Annabelle Chairlegs

Reckling

Xoce Roman

AroMa

Ruth Radelet

Agar Agar

Pearl Charles (again)

Lola Kirke (again)

Arushi Jain

Courtney Barnett

Girl Ray

Eric Silverman

Emily Nenni

Genesis Owusu

A Giant Dog

Gretel Hänlyn

Karina Denike

Jenny Owen Youngs

Briana

April Magazine

Stephen Steinbrink

Metzger’s Field

Indianna Hale

Diminished Men

The Atomic Bomb Audition

Logan Ledger

Shabazz Palaces

Jenny Lewis

Nourished by Time

Vagabon

Vincent Gargiulo National Park

The Four Eyes

Alcatraz Islanders

Plus too many Little Croquettes jam sessions to count. I went to many of these with @lessjokes and a few with @lizzylizzylizzy. NOFX with @vicwomg was the most memorable since we got to be on stage with the band the whole time. Taylor was the best though, followed by Annabelle Chairlegs and Ruth Radelet and Agar Agar (all of which were part of the Psyched Radio festival, can't wait for next year), and also all the Curling shows were a blast, especially the one with Plash. (Check all of them out if you haven't already!)

[disastroboy]

❁(╥﹏╥) CRAWL (╥﹏╥)❁: A playlist for daydreaming about Crowley and all his lil situations Track list (ok to shuffle): I Palindrome I - They Might Be Giants Someday mother will die and I'll get the money / Mom leans down and says, "My sentiments exactly, / You son of a bitch" Everyone - Mitski And I opened my arms wide to the dark / I said take it all, whatever you want / I didn't know that I was young / I didn't know what it would take I Know - Fiona Apple So be it, I'm your crowbar / If that's what I am so far / Until you get out of this mess Andrew in Drag - The Magnetic Fields The moment he walked on the stage my tail began to wag / Wag like a little weiner dog for Andrew in drag The Party's Crashing Us - Of Montreal Still, I only feel alive when the VU is flashing / Alarms going off in my head june 14th - Lauren Auder And oh, if you keep me near / I'll accept it's a joke / 'Cause you could be the one keeping me here, love Posing In Bondage - Japanese Breakfast Closeness / Proximity / I needed / Bondage I Just Want To Talk To You - Charles Brown, Sleepy Creek I know it's crazy to be calling this time of night / I just want to hear your voice / Oh, anything you say would make me feel alright God Sent Me Here To Rock You - Naomi Elizabeth God sent me here to rock you / He gave me a job to do / He told me "Girl, you have to show them / The way I do things here in Heaven" Xanny Bar - Porches You said "I'm Edith and I've always been a mess" / Well nice to meet you maybe we'll undress / But we could just lie down / We both could use the rest Butch In The Streets - Tribe 8 She's a butch in the streets, femme in the sheets / She's just a girl when she goes home Sand Angel - Bachelor Waking up from a dream / Where you hold me kiss me / And I can't fall back asleep Endless Love - Thao & The Get Down Stay Down I don't want it / I don't want it / Carve it on out of me The Deal - Mitski I want someone to take this soul / I can't bear to keep it / I'd give it just to give / And all I will take are the consequences / Will somebody take this soul? Interstate Vision - Lomelda Still I sit with you in parking lots / Acting like I'm not falling for it I Miss That - Porches I bury my face in the neck of my friend / I got it in my head just thinking / I like that, I like that, I like that

cover art by me, it is a wip for a lil animatic thing i'm making for sightofsea's affection and other cravings which you def need to go read if you havent already!

#crowley #aziracrow #crowley playlist #aziracrow playlist #good omens #when i say making for i just mean like.. i am making a fan work of their fic

[darkarfs]

100 Favorite Albums (2023 Edition)

No duplicate entries, only 3 Mike Patton projects, being honest with myself. This was hard and took a good long time. Be kind if you judge.

I've been really listening to music for over 30 years and I still know nothing. The numbers are just there for enumeration, this list is in no order.

The Flatlanders - More a Legend Than a Band

Opeth - Blackwater Park

Propagandhi - Today's Empires, Tomorrow's Ashes

Aphex Twin - Selected Ambient Works, Vol. 2

Alva Noto and Ryuichi Sakamoto - Insen

Black Sabbath - Master of Reality

Gillian Welch - Time the Revelator

Acrania - Fearless

Genghis Tron - Board Up the House

Mr. Bungle - California

Fair To Midland - Arrows and Anchors

Gorguts - Obscura

Harold Budd - Avalon Sutra

Loscil - Plume

Ben Frost - By the Throat

Type O Negative - October Rust

Songs: Ohia - Didn't It Rain

Emeralds - Does It Looks Like I'm Here?

Skeleton Key - Fantastic Spikes Through Balloon

They Might Be Giants - Flood

Cocteau Twins - Heaven or Las Vegas

Between the Buried and Me - Colors

Breeders - Last Splash

Gang Starr - Moment of Truth

Tom Waits - Rain Dogs

Bohren & der Club of Gore - Black Earth

Cryptopsy - None So Vile

Megadeth - Rust In Peace

Vince DiCola and Various Artists - Transformers: the Motion Picture OST

Judas Priest - Painkiller

Gwar - Carnival of Chaos

Mike Patton - Mondo Cane

Pyrrhon - What Passes For Survival

The Bug - London Zoo

Laurie Anderson - Big Science

Talk Talk - Laughing Stock

Venetian Snares - Rossz Csillag Alatt Született

Anaal Nathrakh - Codex Necro

Vangelis - Blade Runner OST

Killing Joke - S/T (2003)

Fiona Apple - The Idler Wheel Is Wiser Than the Driver of the Screw and Whipping Cords Will Serve You More Than Ropes Will Ever Do

Prince - Purple Rain

Brian Eno - Before and After Science

Bark Psychosis - Hex

Finntroll - Ur Jordens Djup

Life Without Buildings - Any Other City

Ephel Duath - The Painter's Palette

Tangerine Dream - Phaedra

Sawako - Hum

The Coup - Party Music

David Sylvain and Holger Czukay - Plight and Premonition

Grouper - Dragging a Dead Deer Up a Hill

Butthole Surfers - Locust Abortion Technician

Sade - Diamond Life

Esquivel - Latin-Esque

Kesha - Rainbow

Tindersticks - Curtains

Emily A. Sprague - Water Memory / Mount Vision

Demdike Stare - Tryptych

Kyle Bobby Dunn - Ways of Meaning

Electric Wizard - Dopethrone

Boards of Canada - Music Has the Right to Children

Pixies - Surfer Rosa

Boris - Pink

The Humble Bee - A Miscellany for the Quiet Hours

Captain Beefheart - Safe as Milk

Dream Theater - Awake

Madvillain - Madvillainy

Dillinger Escape Plan - Miss Machine

Cyndi Lauper - She's So Unusual

Deli Creeps - Dawn of the Deli Creeps

the Mountain Goats - All Hail West Texas

Animals as Leaders - The Joy of Motion

Yellow Magic Orchestra - Solid State Survivor

Taylor Deupree - Faint

Faith No More - Angel Dust

Diablo Swing Orchestra - Pandora's Pinata

Silver Jews - American Water

Sigh - Imaginary Sonicscape

Metallica - Master of Puppets

GAS - S/T

Charles Dodge - Earth's Magnetic Field

Gojira - The Way of All Flesh

Cattle Decapitation - The Anthropocene Extinction

Benoit Pioulard - Precis

Sparks - Angst In My Pants

Stars of the Lid - The Ballasted Orchestra

Daughters - You Won't Get What You Want

Exlimitir - It Weighed Itself In Silver

Defeated Sanity - Passages Into Deformity

The Mars Volta - De-Loused in the Comatorium

Belong - October Language

h hunt - Playing Piano For Dad

Oneohtrix Point Never - Garden of Delete

CRYSTAL - Reflection Overdrive

Sleepytime Gorilla Museum - Of Natural History

Ween - Quebec

Kurt Vile - God Is Saying This To You

Akira Rabelais - Eisoptrophobia

Twine - S/T

[desert-bluffs-and-me]

WTNV quick rundown - 54 - A Carnival Comes to Town

Hey it's the holidays let's get this done! Featuring the additional vocal talent of Dylan Marron as Carlos the Scientist.

The secret to a long life lies in how acutely you perceive time. Welcome to Night Vale.

A carnival comes to town and parks on Bandera Street. It seems to be a completely regular carnival, but Cecil twists it to sound weird due to the NV-normal xenophobia and lack of an understanding of what a carnival is.

Cecil acts like the carnival has low-level hypnotic properties, but it doesn't really do anything and as the mob drives them out the workers seem genuinely afraid and mention that they're just really lost and that NV is weird.

They burn some of the toys that were left behind and celebrate their victory shaking farm tools and animal parts. Also shouting 'interloper' at new people is apparently the NV norm and, mandatory.

We also hear a voicemail from Carlos. In his usual rambling way (got that Autistic swag going on), he reveals to us that the pictures in the lighthouse aren't pictures so much as windows to other dimensions. You can't go into them, but you can watch them. Carlos uses it to watch Cecil shave and apologises for having no time to look for a way back. He declares the otherworld to be the most scientifically interesting place he's ever seen.

Old Woman Josie and the Erika's have finally broken ground at the 'new old opera house' location. Nobody in NV actually knows what opera is. Nor will they acknowledge the Erika's are angels yet, even though they have it all over the new Strex's posters etc that the company is 'angel owned and angel operated'.

Intern Maureen is actually alive and seemed interested in the carnival, so is upset that Cecil helps to drive them out by encouraging people to revolt. Cecil says he just doesn't understand teenagers.

Apparently there is a twice-annual 'cleaning of the books' at the library. This is done to make sure that the librarians have not sneaked in any 'forbidden literature' like Pride and Prejudice. Dana supports this but thinks that the librarians are more dangerous than the books. Tamika does not support this and says that everyone should be able to read any book they want. Cecil supports the suppression of books and tries to 'compromise' by saying maybe they could allow only a few trustworthy people like Tamika to read books and allow everyone else to stay ignorant.

Weather: "Bremen" by PigPen Theatre Co pigpentheatre.com

Doug (the giant masked warrior) has a partner, Alicia, who is nonbinary and uses they/them pronouns. They have a dog and are trying to make a new currency based on sand.

The Erika's have seven cheekbones.

Old Woman Josie refuses to let the Erikas help her making the cement, and scolds them for not recording things on TiVo, reluctantly admitting she can watch catch up TV elsewhere. It's clear she has a lot of authority over them/they respect her a lot.

Approved literature includes biographies of Helen Hunt and all four of Dean Koontz' novels.

People with human bodies and coyote heads, eating armadillos out of duffel bags, turned up to mourn Maureen at the rec centre when they thought she was dead for the second time. Cecil assumes they're from the college.

There is an 'Abandoned Lot District' which is apparently full of lots that people do own, but they're not allowed to build on so just stand around talking hopefully about one day that rule being lifted.

Stay tuned next for people arguing about sports. Not on the radio, somewhere else. Somewhere and soon people will be arguing about sports. I don't know what's happening next on the radio. I never do. And as always, good night Night Vale. Good night.

Proverb: Say what you will about dance, but language is a limited form of expression.

#wtnv #welcome to night vale #wtnv quick rundown #wtnv ep 54

[angelcakesupreme]

so bored so i’m going to do this

1. odd question regarding the true part but, yes my name is zaria.

2. december 1st

3. 5’4”

4. taken by a pumpkin 🙂

5. i really like to apply three cute words together to get a good url.

6. i personally can adore both but if i had to chose, dogs. bigger dogs though because i don’t feel fond of smaller dog breeds lol. older cats are really cool.

7. as far as live action, i really like indie movies or films that generally focus on the slice of life genre. also films exploring a character navigating growth or love. i’m open to a lot of animation too but i adore surrealism and similar genres as my live action preferences for that too.

8. i really do wish i read more. its pretty difficult with adhd/autism but i do find myself fascinated with early 1900s children’s book illustrations.

9. both of my ears are pierced and i don’t want anymore.

10. i’ve always wanted to go to a safe meadow with flowers and sit under a large tree while letting a cute radio play 60s indie garage rock. my boyfriend and i will have a large quilted blanket out with a beautiful and classy packed picnic lunch with glassware and cute napkins. we have sandwiches, soup, iced tea, chocolates and a charcuterie board. different types of cheeses with honey and jams and meat for him. we laugh at weird jokes we make, play card games, maybe do arts and crafts together and watch the sunset. maybe watch the stars too. bonus to be near a river running quietly the whole time.

11. black iced coffee!

12. hard question to answer. i generally really dislike the idea that my passions have to intertwine with unhealthy capitalistic methods just to make ends meet. …i know there’s more optimistic ways to view that but i’m completely indifferent about pursuing a conventional idea of a career. i don’t have time or connections to do it but if possible something involving freelance art commissions or comics would be cool.

13. i don’t have this.

14. tofu pho easily! i can never get tired of it.

15. year of the tiger. tigers are cute but i wish it was rabbit!

16. i like knitting, baking and journaling.

17. i been to some pretty ordinary places really. i’ve been to quite a bit of the southern east coast of america and then to michigan and los angeles. thats about it.

18. i think i’d love to go to finland or japan.

19. japanese, french, finnish, russian and spanish.

20. just english, i can understand a considerable but small amount of spanish or japanese.

21. it’s hard to say… i really like all for different reasons but maybe spring at the moment.

22. i love stuffed animals. i own many like my melody, bunnies, an octopus cat, a teddy i had since 2005, and rilakkuma just to name a few.

23. i never had the former so tofu spaghetti for me.

24. being able to very easily recognize what year a piece of media came from.

25. i’ll go with a cute golden dagger with flowers and a bunny on it.

26. a rustic prep type of aesthetic i suppose. i definitely have it!

27. any kind of bunnies, giant african snail, puffins, panda bears, ducks, flamingos, frogs, and dogs.

28. right now i would probably say soap and sweat.

29. funny question, i don’t think i do. i very much value peace.

30. 4!

31. no!!!

32. i love both… so much… black coffee or cappuccino and green tea or chamomile… so lovely…

33. floral, strawberry, vanilla, warm apple, or coco butter.

34. don’t remind me… probably south park during 2010 to 2015.

35. 3rd, 7th, 10th, 16th, and my 23rd and 24th i suppose.

36. frankie foster!

37. ami from hi hi puffy amiyumi, frida suraez from el tigre, raggedy ann from raggedy ann and andy a musical adventure, and maybe lum from urusei yatsura and shantae.

38. i can’t answer this… ohhh ok i’ll try.

1. aguas de marco by elis regina

2. boranda by sergio mendes

3. l’elephant by tom tom club

4. sudden death by quelle chris

5. good days by sza

39. coffee, matcha and birthday batter!

40. my current wishlist is a customized cute stationery set, handheld vacuum, king sized bed set, more skirts, leggings, sweaters and crop tops, lotions, oils, dress shoes and sneakers, more cute socks and panties and some rugs and movie posters.

#memo

[artificialqueens]

🏳️‍🌈 Carnival Games (Sashea) - Mock-Star 

pure fluff i wrote while i worked at an amusement park that's been rotting in my wips ever since, but i wanted to contribute to the pride challenge so here I am. Shea wins Sasha a giant plushie. that's it, that's the plot. 

Walking along the boardwalk, Sasha breathed in the sweet smell of cotton candy and stretched like a cat, enjoying the sun. Walking next to her, Shea was entranced as Sasha finished the last of her soda and clipped the reusable cup to the backpack that Shea was wearing. They had a brief "fight" over who was going to wear it, both of them insisting that they wore it before Sasha relented. 

"I need to go to the bathroom." Sasha sighed, laying eyes on the closest one to see that the line was out the door. 

"Do you wanna try and find a less crowded one?" Shea asked, knowing that Sasha would only make them stop if she really needed to go. 

"No, if we find another one, it's going to be just as crowded. Hopefully the line will move fast. Go ahead and walk around a little, I'll text you when I get out." Sasha said, kissing Shea on the cheek and power walked over to the bathroom line. 

Shea continued walking, although she didn't want to go too far. She turned a corner and discovered a small cluster of carnival games. Her eyes landed on a row of giant bear plushies that were the prizes for a ball toss game. They were definitely taller than her. She imagined Sasha trying and failing to pick one up, and she chuckled to herself. She decided right then she had to try and win one. The game was most likely rigged, and they definitely couldn't take it home if she did win, but she didn’t particularly care. She mentally gave herself 3 games to win and stepped up and paid for her first game.

It turns out, one game was all she needed, since she landed two balls in back to back. She cheered in surprise as the attendant rang a bell then asked what color she wanted, then dug a fresh one up from a back room. The bear was lighter than she expected, and she carried it over to a bench to wait for Sasha. Her text came after a few minutes, and Shea told her where she was. She could see her from about 60 feet away, the sun shining through her like the angel she was. She laid eyes on Shea when she was about 30 feet away, and Shea could see her surprise and subsequent eye roll as she approached. 

“Why?” she laughed, hugging Shea then hugging the bear 

“Because I wanted to see you smile” 

“You didn’t spend all of our cash, did you?” 

“No, no, no. Believe it or not, I won in one try.”

“What game did you play?”

“That one over there, the one where you toss the balls into a bin.”

"How on earth are we supposed to get this home? We flew here!" 

"Ship it." Shea said, barely holding back laughter. 

"That's going to be super expensive!"

"So?"

"So the price of the shipping is going to be like 10 times what it's worth! Darling, I am so grateful that you won this for me, so, so grateful. But we can't reasonably get this back home. How about we make a little kids day and then I'll let you win me a more reasonable sized toy." 

"You're hurting my feelings here Sasha!" Shea laughed. 

"I'm sorry love." Sasha cooed as she kissed Shea's cheek. "I do want a picture with it before we give it away though, it's almost as big as I am!"

"I know, that's why I played for it."

After 5 minutes of picture taking, the giant bear was handed off to a thrilled family of little girls and their parents, and Sasha led Shea to a game that would be easy to win, a guessing game where the worker had to guess a persons person's weight, age, or birth month, and after handing over 10 dollars and stepping on a giant scale, Shea won easily, and Sasha chose a husky dog plushie that was more manageable to carry, about the size of her torso as opposed to the size of her. Sasha leaned into Shea as they walked back to where they started, and Shea kissed the side of her head and then kissed the dogs head, already fondly remembering the day.

Pride Challenge Points: 199

#rpdr fanfiction #sasha velour #shea coulee #sashea #fluff #mock star #fic challenge

[sugar-sweet-tea]

Sorry, it took a while to respond but I mean like Zane or Travis as cg's with a little gender-neutral reader.

I truly don't mind what you do with it, but like, caregiver Zane and Travis with a little gender-neutral reader. (Also sorry again that it took me so long to respond!)

Sorry this response took so long. I really hope you like it though! I genuinely really like both of these characters sooo, I hope I did them justice :)

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

Travis as a cg would be like...

- He would treat you like royalty.

- Like, you're getting spoiled.

- He might not be the brightest guy sometimes, but I swear he's trying his best.

- It's his first time being a cg so he's still learning.

- Fakes the confident that he knows what he's doing.

- Spoiler alert. He does not.

- Speaking of spoiling... he's a total pushover.

- Genuinely will get you anything.

- Puppy dog eyes will end this man.

- "Here. I saw you look at this the other day, so I bought it for you." ._. "Travis wha-"

- Loves physical affection.

- Will take any excuse to cuddle with you. Like, you could be walking and he'd just wrap his arms around you.

- Obviously won't do it in public if you're uncomfortable, but once you're home. Be ready.

- This man.. this man loves nicknames.

- Terms of endearment are his cup of tea.

- These include : darling, baby, bunny, angel, kitten, dumpling, lamb. Just a lot of animal ones.

- Despite his very sweet nature, he can be quite scary at times. Like, god have mercy on anyone who even glances negatively in your direction.

- Takes you out on cute dates.

- Picnics, parks, zoo trips, etc.

- Despite the fact that he loves going out and taking you out to do stuff, his favourite date is staying at home, cuddling on the couch together and watching a movie.

- He shows you off proudly to his friends.

- And they just love you.

- A really funny guy.

- Big or small, he'll always try to make you laugh. Just to see you smile or giggle lights up his world.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Zane as a cg would be like...

- He's very secretive about it.

- He's not a very open person in general, soooo. Yeah. Expect not many people to know.

- He has quite a bit of experience since both his brothers regress and he used to take care of them.

- Vylad and Garroth both know you and you all have play dates together.

- He spoils you, but not too much.

- He has limits and he's pretty strict about them.

- You're one of the few people he's actually close to so expect a lot of attention.

- He's getting better at opening up but will spend hours on end just with you without complaint.

- You love playing fairytale games together.

- He's usually the "evil villain" and you're usually the "charming knight".

- Speaking of games. This man will always let you win. No matter what. Usually. In most cases.

- There's just something about you being so happy that he just can't resist. He's happy when you're happy.

- Absolutely adores playing toys with you.

- He'll sit down with you and play with your toys forever.

- The best part. He does a ton of voices and gets really into character.

- "Now I shall take thy sword and attack thee with it!" *You playing on your DS* "What-"

- He's the actual definition of "scary man with soft spot for one." You are the one.

- Overall, just a giant sweet heart for you.

#sfw regression #anon ask #age regression #agere #aphmau agere #zane ro'meave #travis valkrum #safe agere #headcanon #aphmau #aphmau headcanons #lovely anon

[flyingiseasy-landingnotsomuch]

Bucket List

Black Crater Trail, Or

Cannon Beach, Or

Climb South Sister, Or

Visit Mt. St Helens, Wa and Hike

Eagle Creek Trail, Or

Hamilton Mountain Trail

Elowah and Upper McCord Creek Falls Trail

Cascade Head Trail, Or

Drive the Entire Oregon Coast

Camp on the Beach

Drive a Dune Buggy on the Coastal Dunes

Camp at the Alvord Desert

Explore, Camp, Hike Wallowa Whitman National Forest

Hike Crater Lake, Or

Hike at Yosemite National Park

Visit Yellowstone National Park

Hike Latourell Falls

Hike Cape Lookout Trail

Drive a Cafe Racer on the Coastal Dunes

Hike Misery Ridge Trail at Smith Rock State Park

Timberline Trail Around Mt. Hood

Tom McCall Point Trail

Dog Mountain Trail, Wa

Trip to Iceland

White River Falls, Or

Horsetail Falls and Ponytail Falls

Toketee Falls, Or

Wildhorse Lake Trail from Steens Summit

Big Indian Gorge Trail

Mount McLoughlin Trail

Hurricane Creek Trail

Chief Joseph Mountain Trail

Visit and Hike Painted Hills

Lakes Basin via East Fork Lostline Trail

Neahkahnie Mountain via South Trailhead

Tamanawas Falls Trail

Timberline Cooper Spur and Tilly Jane Trail

Trip to Ireland

 Ptarmigan Ridge Trail, Wa

 Skyline Divide Trail, Wa

Cook Hill Loop Trail, Wa

Spencer Butte Trail, Or

Trail of Ten Falls at Silver Falls

Angel's Rest, Or

Abiqua Falls, Or

Indian Beach Trail via Ecola State Park

Salt Creek Falls Trail

Mount Thielsen Trail

Cape Falcon Trail, Or

Captain Cook Trail and Thor's Well

Saint Perpetua and Giant Spruce Trail

Larch Mountain Trail

Canyon Creek Meadows Loop Trail

Marys Peak Trail

Three Fingered Jack Loop

Crooked River Rim Trail

Tamanawas Falls Trail

Saddle Mountain Trail

Elowah and Upper McCord Creek Falls Trail

Lookout Mountain via the Divide

Dimple Hill via Horse and Dans Trail

Bald Hill Trail

Kings Mountain Trail

Carroll Rim Trail

Jones Creek Trailhead via River Trail

#personal