#Erica Harvest

[kent-farm]

I want you to know me completely, with no secrets. 'Cause you're the one. You always will be.

—Clark to Lois, Smallville, "Harvest"

#Smallville #Clark Kent #Lois Lane #Holding Hands | Clark and Lois #10.06 Harvest #Tom Welling #Erica Durance #Clois #Secrets

[smallcloisville]

Lois: What do you say you speed us away from these children of the corn, honey?

The way she says it and Clark carries her gets me everytime😍😂😂

I think this is the first time she calls him honey💞✨

This is one of my favorite episode. I can watch it any other day 😩😌

#smallville #smallville edit #my edit #my gifs #clark kent #lois lane #tom welling #erica durance #clois #superman #harvest #my favorite #my babies

[probablyasocialecologist]

As urban populations boom, urban agriculture is increasingly looked to as a local food source and a way to help combat inequitable food access. But little is known about how productive urban agriculture is compared to conventional, rural farming. A new study digs in, finding urban gardeners and hydroponics can meet and sometimes exceed the yields of rural farms. “Despite its growing popularity, there’s still quite a lot we don’t know about urban agriculture, like whether the yields are similar to conventional agriculture, or even what crops are commonly grown,” says Florian Payen, an environmental scientist at Lancaster University and lead author of the study, published today in AGU’s journal Earth’s Future. The new study compiles studies on urban agriculture from 53 countries to find out which crops grow well in cities, what growing methods are most effective, and what spaces can be utilized for growing. The researchers find that urban yields for some crops, like cucumbers, tubers and lettuces, are two to four times higher than conventional farming. Many other urban crops studied are produced at similar or higher rates than in rural settings. Cost efficiency remains an open but important question. Most studies on urban agriculture have focused on green spaces, such as private and community gardens, parks and field growing operations. Payen’s work includes “gray” spaces — places in cities that are already built but could be used for growing, such as rooftops and building facades. In both green and gray spaces, the study examines a suite of crops grown in soils versus hydroponics, horizontal versus vertical farming, and natural versus controlled conditions. “Surprisingly, there were few differences between overall yields in indoor spaces and outdoor green spaces, but there were clear differences in the suitability of crop types to different gray spaces,” Payen says. Certain crops like lettuces, kale and broccoli are more naturally suited to be grown vertically in indoor spaces than others. “You can’t exactly stack up apple trees in a five- or ten-layer high growth chamber,” he says, “though we did find one study that managed to grow wheat stacked up like that.” Other crops, like watery vegetables (e.g., tomatoes) and leafy greens, performed well in hydroponic environments. And crops grown in fully controlled environments can be grown throughout the year, allowing harvests to happen more times per year than in open-air environments, which leads to higher annual yields. But scientists will need to keep studying these systems to plan cost-effective agriculture solutions. The finding that urban agriculture can have similar or greater yields to conventional agriculture “is exactly what we have been waiting for in the urban agriculture research community,” says Erica Dorr, an environmental scientist at AgroParisTech who was not involved in the study.

#urban farming #urban agriculture #solarpunk #farming #cities

[steddieasitgoes]

written for @steddielovemonth Day 7 prompt: Love is: Silently passing them a pickle because you know it’s their favorite. Rating: T (for suggestive language) | no cw

Eddie wouldn’t call Steve a push over, he’s witnessed him annihilate the kids with a bitchy retort and a pointed stare too many times for it to be true, but there are times when Steve’s soft center oozes out, allowing the ones he loves to walk all over him. 

Like when it comes to food. 

Eddie’s always known Steve’s willing to share his food with his friends. He witnessed it enough times in the Hawkins High cafeteria — Steve wordlessly passing Tommy his unopened applesauce seconds after he finished his own or scooting his tray closer to Carol when she opted for a salad and looked at her choice with regret. 

It’s only gotten worse though. 

Now, Steve’s plate barely gets set in front of him before there are hands making passes at it. Dustin’s grubby paws snatching the pickle spear from the plate, Max and Erica harvesting his fries until all that’s left are the burnt and wonky ones, Mike and Lucas occasionally shoveling spoonfuls of Mac and cheese into their mouths before it’s even had a chance to cool. Even Robin gets in on it, swiping a slice of garlic toast from his plate like some feral bird. 

And Steve never says anything. 

Well, most of the time. 

If anyone ever takes something he really wants — like the time Dustin tried to get a sip of his Neapolitan shakes a few weeks back — bitchy Steve comes out in force, defending his food with the same ferocity he used to rip a demobat apart with his bare hands in the Upside Down. 

With that knowledge in mind, Eddie comes to the conclusion that pickles, fries, Mac and cheese, and occasionally thick slices of garlic toast are low on Steve’s favorite food list. 

So, one can imagine Eddie’s surprise when he excuses himself from the movie marathon going on in the living room of Steve’s place in search of a beer refill to find Steve chomping on a pickle spear in the bright light of the fridge. 

The sight is something, sure. Especially the way Steve’s sweatpants strain against his ass as he squats to put the jar back. But Eddie doesn’t want to get caught intruding on Steve’s secret pickle whims so he quietly retreats to the living room — beerless, sure, but with a lot on his mind that he doesn’t even care. 

If Steve liked pickles all this time, why hasn’t he told Dustin off for always stealing his? And if he’s secretly harboring a love of pickles, what else is he selflessly giving up without anyone knowing? Does Robin know about his pickle love affair? 

Eddie spends the rest of the night rethinking everything he’s thought he’s ever known about Steve until he’s so worked up he makes up some lame excuse about needing to help Wayne with some yard work in the morning and leaves right in the middle of the third movie of the night. 

On his drive home, he comes to the conclusion that he’s not going to let Steve miss out on pickles anymore. Not if he can help it. 

Operation Save Steve’s Pickle gets put in motion the following day when Eddie is summoned via Dustin’s booming voice over the walkie-talkie to lunch to make up for his abrupt departure last night. 

It’s business as usual so far in the diner, just with fewer faces. Steve, Robin, and Dustin are the only ones in attendance today, making the corner booth more spacious than it has ever been. 

Eddie feels the adrenaline coursing through his veins as the waiter approaches with their food. He might not be running for his life this time around, but his heart sure hasn’t gotten the memo practically beating out of his chest in anticipation of what he’s about to do. 

Like clockwork, Steve’s plate is set in front of him and Dustin’s hand snatches the pickle without a second thought. The little shit even has the audacity to take a bite, juices pouring down his chin, as he lets them all know that it’s the best pickle yet. 

Eddie wants to strangle him, but he refrains and sticks to the plan. When Steve’s preoccupied lathering his burger in more ketchup than one person should consume, he picks up his untouched pickle spear and slides it onto Steve’s plate. 

“Are you giving Steve your pickle right now?” Dustin screeches, drawing the attention of everyone in the crowded diner. 

“Maybe don’t phrase it like that, please,” Robin chimes in, burying her face in her hands in embarrassment. 

Eddie can’t help but bark out a laugh before glancing at Steve who hasn’t broken eye contact with the pickle on his plate. He’s pretty sure he sees the smallest twitch of his lips, threatening to pull into a real smile but gets interrupted from watching the sight by Dustin’s hand. Eddie swats it away. 

“What the hell!” Dustin groans, massaging the back of his reddening hand. “If you’re going to share your pickle, you should give it to me, not Steve. He doesn’t even like them” 

“Except he does.” 

“No, he doesn’t.” 

“Steve,” Eddie huffs, turning in the booth to face him. “Can you please tell this insufferable know-it-all that you do like pickles? Like them so much you have a secret jar in your fridge?” 

“I mean, yeah I do—wait how do you know about the secret jar?” 

“I caught you eating one last night.”

“You have a secret jar of pickles in your fridge that you’ve never told me about?”

“That is what secret means,” Steve deadpans, rolling his eyes. “You get my pickle every time we come here. Why should I share them at home too?” 

“This is a betrayal of epic proportions!” Dustin whines. 

“Oh can it, Henderson. Go back to eating your lunch and let Stevie here enjoy a pickle from Sue’s for once in his life!” 

Surprisingly, the kid actually listens to Eddie and the table launches into silence except for the crunching of fries and pickles in Dustin’s case because Steve still hasn’t touched his. 

Eddie nudges Steve’s forearm, “Better get to it before Henderson makes another pass for it.” 

“We could share?”

“No need. This one’s all you.” 

Steve gives Eddie one of his uncharacteristically soft smiles before taking a heaping bite out of the pickle. Juice dribbles down Steve’s chin but he doesn’t seem to mind judging by the pure bliss on his face. Eyes closed and head tipped back as if he…

Jesus H. Christ 

Maybe giving Steve his pickle wasn’t a good idea after all. 

“Holy shit,” Steve moans, taking another bite. “This is the best pickle I’ve ever tasted. Thanks, Eddie.” 

Eddie's stunned for a moment, eyes locked on Steve's throat, watching as he swallows before he comes to his senses.

“You can have my pickle anytime, Stevie,” he says without thinking, high off Steve's pickle-drunk expression.

It is not until Robin groans and they all erupt into a fit of laughter does the euphemism lands on Eddie. He didn’t mean it like that, not in the slightest. But hey, if Steve wants that pickle too, Eddie’s sure as hell not going to say no. 

#steddielovemonth #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #eddie munson ficlet #eddie munson fic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington ficlet #eddie pov #stranger things fic #stranger things ficlet #dani writes

[machtaholic]

Harvest

written for @steddiemicrofic, challenge: "hole", Rating: G(?), 404 words

[I got inspired and decided to write another one lol]

"Fuck! I have a hole!"

Steve's voice floated downstairs and Eddie nearly choked on his fangs as he waited with Robin, Nancy and the Party. They were all going to the Annual Hawkins Harvest Festival - something they'd missed the past few years but were all excited to resume attending since Vecna had been defeated and the Upside Down closed. Everything had settled down and Hawkins had returned to normal - well, almost normal. The events with Vecna and the Upside Down had left their crew changed, but strengthened, had formed relationships that were unexpected but not unwanted.

"Is it visible?" Nancy asked.

"… no!" Steve replied.

"Then throw some clear nail polish on it and get your ass down here, dingus!" Robin hollered.

Eddie snorted and shook his head.

"I'm almost done, just go and I'll meet you at the cars!" Steve yelled.

"Come on, guys," Robin said, herding all the kids outside.

"If he takes more than five minutes, we leave without him," Erica suggested as they left the house.

"We'll be right out," Eddie promised. "Go on."

The house was quiet as Eddie waited patiently, listening as Steve banged around upstairs; Eddie fiddled with his fangs and tapped his foot impatiently until he saw a flash of bright red on the stairs. Eddie glanced up further and froze at the absolute vision coming down the steps.

"Ready to get tongues wagging," Steve said, chuckling softly.

"Gonna do more than that, Stevie," Eddie whispered.

"That's the idea."

Steve reached the foyer and Eddie got a look at Steve's complete costume - from the bright red heels to the white thigh highs, to the barely there red skirt and red hooded cloak, Steve was the epitome of Red Riding Hood.

"Sure you're going to be warm enough there, Stevie?" Eddie breathed. "Or should I call you Red?"

"Oh, I think perhaps I have a Bid Bad Wolf nearby to keep me warm," Steve practically purred.

"Oh I think so," Eddie replied, pulling Steve in for a hug, groaning when he noticed that Steve's eyes were lined and his lips were a dewy pink. "Still have that hole?"

"Mmmhmm," Steve hummed. "It's being contained for now."

"Is it now?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah," Steve replied breathily. "Might have another couple of holes that might need tending to later. Think you're up to the challenge?"

"Oh Stevie, you know I am always up for a challenge."

#stranger things #steddie #steddiemicrofic #steve harrington #eddie munson #comment fic

[bxldrsdraumar]

You're Invited!

You find the invitation tucked into your doorjamb, or tucked into a pocket or boot set aside during training, or in the library, or in the dining hall. You don't know who it's from or how it got there, but the moment you open it and read you find yourself smiling with fondness (or your brow furrowing in confusion, or the sheer rage at the audacity - who are we to judge).

Inside there are two distinct sets of handwriting - one splotchy, scratchy, with strikethroughs and ink spots, and the other rigid, neat, and pleasing:

Join Us! You are hereby corjal corge - cordially - invited to join the Chalphy - Chalphy-Claus! - family for a traditional holiday harvest feast! Enjoy the many lucks - luxurious - dishes traditional to Chalphy in Grannvale, as well as the sharing of other activities and traditions of the area!

We have shared many a feast in our childhoods, and we would love to now share them with you, our friends!

Jugdral countrymen must attend! - You can't say that Sig!

What's going on?

Erica and tches autumn-winter Thanksgivingmas shenanigans, that's what! Join us in holding a holiday family dinner with the most dramatic soap opera family nonsense of all time! This low-stakes event will be a fun little "potluck" holiday family dinner, but without any of the stress that comes with the real thing - just a friendly little ask meme event, with prompts provided by Erica and tches.

Proposed dates are Dec 02 - 10! If you're interested in joining us, fill out the interest check here by Nov 19! (Better hurry! Latecomers who don't fill out the interest check will still be allowed to attend, but we can't promise the best seats in the house!)

All posts on Sigurd and Ethlyn's blog will be tagged #toabaldrsbounty.

Hope to see you there!

#out of character #toabaldrsbounty #just a fun little minivent me and erica have joked about for months lmao

[chrisbitchtree]

The One with Big Bad Billy

Harringrove Harvest Day 7

Prompt - Erica Sinclair’s Pillowcase of Candy

G - 900 words

***

For all the things that Steve could say he loved about the party, he hated that they were giant gossips just as much. One would tell another something, and within minutes, it felt like half the town knew. There were recent developments in Steve’s life that he’d debated telling Dustin about, but he’d held off for exactly that reason. They would all try to deny it, but the proof was in the pudding.

That exact night was a perfect example. It was Halloween night, and Steve was in the bathroom of his small apartment, trying to fluff up his hair after a long day at work, with more than a little help from his Farrah Fawcett spray, when his phone rang. He ignored it, feeling like he was finally on the verge of getting his bangs to do what he wanted, but it wasn’t even seconds before it started ringing again.

He slammed the cannister down on the counter and stomped out to the living room, grabbing the phone off the hook. “Hello?” he answered, not even trying to hide the exasperation in his tone.

“Steve!” Dustin cried into the phone. “Billy Hargrove’s gone soft!”

“Oh really? And how would you happen to know that?” Steve asked. Dustin had a tendency to stretch the length of his stories out, so Steve took a seat on the overstuffed chair next to the phone, twirling the cord around his fingers as he listened.

“Well, Mike just called and told me that El told him that Lucas told her that Erica’s candy was stolen while she was trick or treating with her friends. Billy came out of nowhere and tried to chase the assholes, but he couldn’t keep up and they got away. A half hour later, Billy came knocking on the Sinclair’s door with a huge shopping bag full of candy. Lucas is pretty sure that Billy cleaned Melvad’s out of everything they had left!”

“Well, that sounds really nice of him!” Steve replied, a smile small on his face. As per usual, Max was the only one that wasn’t named. She was the only one he could trust not to blab everything and anything to everyone within a fifty-mile radius.

Billy had been mostly unseen in the time since his miraculous rescue from the Upside Down and his slow recovery, lying low in the trailer where he resided with Max and Susan since his release from the hospital in late February. When he was seen out and about, he was quiet and withdrawn, a shadow of the loud, brash boy he used to be. It was nice to hear of him interacting with people again, even if it was for such an unfortunate reason.

“Sure,” Dustin said, chewing on something so loudly as he talked that Steve had to lift the receiver away from his ear. “It seems nice, but that’s not Billy. He’s a jerk! What if he’s possessed again! What if the mindflayer is back? We need to warn Max! I’m gonna let you go. You go to the trailer and talk to Max but bring your bat in case Billy’s there. I’ll go rally everyone else, and we can meet at the Byers in 30 minutes!”

“Wait!” Steve said, straining to be heard over Dustin’s babbling. “Calm down for a second, Dustin. Come on, we don’t want to scare everyone. This is the plan. You go stuff your face with more candy and watch a scary movie or something, and I’ll go take a drive over to Max’s house. If everything seems ok, I’ll let you know, and you’ll forget about this. If I feel like I need backup, I’ll call you on the walkie. Deal?”

“Ok,” Dustin sighed. “But promise you’ll let me know the second something suspicious comes up.”

***

Steve went and fixed his bangs, getting them just how he wanted them, then he picked up the phone, figuring that he’d better make a call.

“Hello? Steve?” Max answered when Susan handed her the phone.

“Hey Max,” Steve said, chuckling at her confusion. “I just wanted to let you know that you might get a call from Dustin saying that your brother’s possessed…”

“Already received and ignored.” She confirmed.

“Alright then, if he asks, I came to check on you. Thanks, Max! Have a goodnight!”

“You too!” She replied. Steve could already hear a candy bar wrapper being opened as he hung up the call.

***

Minutes later, there was a knock at Steve’s door, and he runs to answer it, not wanting to leave his visitor out in the cold.

“Hey, baby,” he greets his guest, pulling Billy in the door by the front of his jean jacket.

“Hey, pretty boy,” Billy returns the greeting, pressing a kiss to Steve’s lips as soon as the door is shut and locked behind him.

“Heard a rumour about you,” Steve mutters against Billy’s neck, where he’s pressing more kisses.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” Billy asks, wrapping his arms around Steve.

“Dustin told me that Mike told him that El told him that Lucas told her that you’re out chasing candynappers and buying little girls Halloween treats. They say you’ve soft. Also said you might be possessed again, but I’m not gonna believe that one.”

“ ‘M not soft,” Billy grouses. “I’m still a big tough meanie. But even big tough meanies can’t watch a candynapper and not try to help. I’m not a monster.”

“Sure, sure,” Steve smiles. “My boyfriend is a big tough meanie. I’m so scared of your marshmallow core.”

#harringroveweek #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #harringrove harvest #chrisbitchtree writes

[triskhellion]

15 Shades of Red

Rated: Explicit (3.5k | WIP 1/18)

Relationships: Derek/Stiles, Stiles & Isaac, Derek & Malia, Derek & Isaac, The Family, background Boyd/Erica, Lydia/Jackson/Danny, Heather/Kira

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Isaac Lahey, Lydia Martin, Malia Tate, Talia Hale, Peter Hale, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd, Kira Yukimura, Heather, Cora Hale, Laura Hale, Matt Daehler, Braeden, etc.

Tags: POV Stiles, POV Derek, Graphic Violence, Mob AU, Spark Stiles, Omega Derek, Mob Boss Stiles, Mob Boss/Pack Alpha Talia, Creeper Stiles, Power Imbalance, Sharing a Bed, Touch-Starved Derek, Getting Together, Angst & Fluff & Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Blood, Kidnapping, Torture, Past Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Minor Character Deaths, Explicit Sexual Content, (Mostly) Bottom Derek/Top Stiles, Virgin Derek, Light BDSM, Praise Kink, Dirty Talk, Knotting, First Time Bottoming, Murder Husbands, Mpreg (in epilogue,) Happy Ending.

Summary: Derek is the 23 year old omega son of Alpha Boss Talia Hale, the only non-alpha born to the Hales in at least four generations. Restricted by his overprotective mother after a past kidnapping and misunderstood by the alphas and betas of the Pack, he longs for more than the boring life he's been consigned to and the suitors only interested in him for his name or body.

Stiles became the head of the Stilinski branch of the Gajoš Family at 19 after both of his parents were gunned down six years apart. With the help of a talented group of friends, the secret Spark with a newly powerful and disturbing Gift took down a slew of rivals to keep control of his territory in Beacon City. Now 21, the infamous Boss with a love for the color red is suddenly given an opportunity to bring the object of his affection, a completely oblivious Derek, into his Family as restitution for an unintended, but significant offense by the Hale Pack. He takes it.

Equiknots: Harvest & Hunter's Moon prompts: 18, Between, Corn Equal, Hunter, Knot, Sanguine, Spice, Super & Travel

Stiles

His cool, calm, and collected demeanor was at odds with the anxiety and anticipation roiling inside. Stiles learned years ago to school his facial expressions, to quiet the fingers that itched to drum on any surface, the feet to tap, or a leg to bounce. At least in public. There were the odd lapses, yes, but he couldn’t afford that today. He had to be the Boss, play the unbothered Blade of infamy. 

Of course, the facade alone wouldn’t be worth a damn while in the company of werewolves, but he had other tricks up his sleeve. Or more accurately, hanging from a simple black cord around his neck; the thin, metallic, rune-marked disc the size of an old silver dollar resting flush against his sternum and tucked beneath layers of clothing. A white sleeveless v-neck under a long-sleeved red dress shirt, the shade of which he often used to signal his mood or the tone of the day’s business. (But not always, it wouldn’t do to be completely predictable, not to mention that circumstances often turned on a dime.)

Today he wore a vibrant scarlet, including a matching tie, with his signature charcoal gray 3-piece suit. Bold and triumphant for this was a momentous occasion. Stiles doubted he could’ve engineered a better opportunity himself than the one poised to fall into his lap. Hopefully literally in the not-too-distant future if he played his cards right. 

And to think this had all been set into motion by sheer happenstance after more time than he cared to admit spent daydreaming trying to scheme up some kind of proper introduction over the past few years. But there was always some reason why it wasn’t a good time or likely to backfire if not cause a capital I Incident. There was also the part of him that would rather be able to keep his fantasy alive than risk the possibility of being shot down (and not only figuratively.)

But then eleven days ago his childhood best friend, Scott McCall, had been Bitten by Peter Hale. 

The werewolf had been out of his mind at the time, drugged by a pretty face working for a rogue Calavera with some specialized strain of wolfsbane and made to go temporarily feral. An excuse for Hunters to “justifiably” attack the powerful Pack no doubt. Without his human side in charge to temper his ambitions — he was strong enough to become a Pack Alpha himself if he’d wanted to — the Left Hand of the Hales went looking for someone to Bite. His first Beta.

For some baffling reason he’d ended up going for Scott when he came across the veterinary student, who was entirely unsuitable for “the life,” walking with a date in the park. The terrified 21 year old managed to call Stiles just before he was actually attacked and when he was found by Isaac in some bushes soon after, bloody but healing, the Boss and Enforcer both knew exactly what was happening. 

Isaac had been turned without consent himself several months before, but that Alpha had meant it as punishment for some slight, thinking either Stiles would turn on the new wolf or be killed by him. Instead he restrained Isaac with his power, threw him in a basement room, and slapped a silence rune on it. Then he made a concealment token to keep the change in status under wraps. They quietly figured it out with help from Alpha Satomi Ito, an old friend of Stiles’ mother, and once the blue-eyed wolf had learned enough control they took care of that asshole themselves.    

It didn’t escape his notice that despite all of Scott’s issues with him following in his parents footsteps that it had been Stiles that he had called when his life was on the line. So it goes. They’d started growing apart after his mother was killed and the rift between them widened as they continued going through very different experiences. No matter how many times he tried to explain the concept of a power vacuum — that even if he, or previously his father, had wanted to run away from it all that more people would actually be hurt if they did so — Scott just couldn’t understand. 

And so Stiles never even considered trying to bring him into to fold or tell him about Isaac being a wolf too. That he could find a pack here or that there were even ways to stick around without one. He called up Satomi and she had him on the way to some sleepy college town in Virginia within a handful of days. 

Honestly, the whole situation was for the best for both of them. Scott could go be uncomplicated and enjoy his new lack of asthma with a laid back pack on the other side of the country and Stiles wouldn’t have to worry about him not being part of the Family, but possibly being targeted as an associate. There’d be no more sending anyone to babysit him from afar as he ambled about sketchy parts of Beacon City blissfully unaware of not being mugged either. 

And so here he was. The Hales had contacted him apologetically once they realized what had happened and to whom and he’d let them stew for a few days before responding.

The barest smirk tugged at his lips as he observed the Alpha Heir, Laura Hale, attempt to discreetly scent his emotions, her nostrils flaring slightly as she feigned engrossment with the large painting taking up much of the wall behind his side of the table. The imagery of the Crooked Forest in Nowe Czarnowo on a misty morning was both deeply meaningful for him and an interesting conversation piece for the relatively few guests allowed within these walls. It would likely be quite some time before those gathered here returned again, if ever.

His amusement increased at the wrinkle deepening between her brows when she picked up nothing at all, huffing and turning to side-eye the short red-headed woman speaking with her younger sister, Cora, at the other end of the room. As far as those outside the Inner Circle of the Family knew (or Great Eight as Erica insisted,) Lydia Martin was the Stilinski emissary and responsible for any of their mage craft.

Dearest Lydia was indeed their emissary, his representative in matters both supernatural and mundane. She did also possess magic, though the exact nature of her abilities — that she was a banshee — was yet another closely guarded secret. But it was Stiles himself that created their magical implements, set their wards and, when need be, used his significant abilities to eliminate their threats.

The only people who’d witnessed him in action, enraged and eyes shining the rich burgundy of venous blood, were his most trusted Family and the soon to be dispatched recipients of said power. (The occasional innocent bystander didn’t count because their memories of the event would be wiped clean. He wasn’t entirely amonster.) 

Aware of how requesting attendance by the entire Hale family, lowercase f, would seem an insultingly blatant trap he had sent a blood-spelled letter witnessed and effected by a Notary Mage. He, Isaac, and Lydia — the Head, the Hand, and the Voice of the Stilinski Family — had pricked their thumbs with the small ceremonial dagger and bled beside their signatures on the thick parchment, swearing that there'd be no violence against the Hales by them or those in their service, or with their foreknowledge, on pain of death. 

For a span of 7 hours, equally before and after the meeting’s start time of noon, they could not strike. Unless the Hales attacked first, of course. They weren’t idiots.

Stiles still hadn’t been sure that they would come though, perhaps insisting on meeting in neutral territory instead. He would’ve agreed to that if he had to, but this made things so much simpler. More contained and less prone to erupt in violence or involve outside parties.

The Stilinskis and Hales weren’t formal allies, but they weren’t enemies either. Some minor altercations between underlings aside they had no quarrel with each other, even cooperating when their interests aligned from time to time or giving a heads up about some mutual rival. 

The officiated blood-spell must’ve been enough for the Hale’s own emissary, Druid Alan Deaton to proclaim them safe enough even within another organization’s stronghold. The placid Black man in a forest green suit was currently observing everything from the sidelines and also keeping tabs on Lydia in particular. If he only knew.

In addition, they were allowed to bring a dozen soldiers with then; three were currently posted inside the room, two outside the door, and the other seven were split between the front and back entrances and on standby with their vehicles. He also knew, courtesy of his tech wizard, Danny, and head of security, Boyd, that the Steiner twins (jokingly referred to as Arts & Entertainment) were waiting with a small arsenal just beyond the property line about half a mile away in case things went south. 

The heirloom oak and bronze grandfather clock chimed out the hour and the gathered werewolves turned to him expectingly, but he only looked toward the door and went back to reading the papers spread before him. With every minute after noon the tension grew and at 12:07pm Peter Hale finally broke the silence. 

“Apologies,” he said, tone making clear that he wasn’t the one who should offer them. “But if we could start…” 

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “Everyone hasn’t arrived yet.” 

The four Hales looked at each other with surprise and discomfort. The druid’s gaze sharpened. 

“You mean Derek and Malia? But wh—“ Peter began.

“Was the invitation not clear?”

“Yes, but they’re not really involved in this level of business,” said Laura, looking towards her mother as the Hale Alpha merely stared at him in silence.

Oh, I’m aware he thought disapprovingly, eyes intentionally flickering to the not-yet-18 year old Cora.

“Nevertheless, this matter affects them as well,” Stiles said, wearing what he hoped was a small, pleasant smile. “So if you could have them come per our agreement—”

“We would greatly appreciate it,” added Lydia, trying to soften the sharpness of his tone and keep things from devolving already. 

The dark haired sisters shared an annoyed look as Peter sat tight-lipped in his seat. After several moments Talia broke eye contact and nodded to Laura. The Heir pulled out her phone and sent a few texts, snorting a minute later at the response. 

“They said they could get here in about 25 minutes, but only by coming straight from the gym.”

Isaac looked over to him and chuckled.

“We promise not to take offense,” Stiles said, quickly banishing the thought of a flexing, sweat drenched Derek before it could fully form. “Refreshments will be served shortly in the meantime.” 

He stood and nodded to Liam who’d been waiting near the entrance for any requests and the young soldier hurried to the kitchen. 

“Excuse me while I attend to a few things in my office. Feel free to explore the library in the drawing room,” he said, gesturing to go through the archway on the right side and across the hall.

He walked over to Isaac on his way out. “Come get me when they arrive.” 

Derek

He was at the power rack about to attempt a new single max low back squat when his and Malia’s phones chimed simultaneously. Always a good sign, Derek thought sarcastically as he let out a long sigh. What now?

His cousin, who had been racing on an elliptical nearby like an angry T1000 with John Connor in its sights, hopped off and grabbed her phone and water bottle as he continued to fume about the interruption, sure that his workout would be cut short.

Coming to the gym, like running beta shifted or blasting his music, was how he took the edge off the unmet needs and burned through the negative emotions that he lived with as a matter of course. The regular focus, control, and clearing of his mind also made it that much easier to mute the “outgoing” of his bonds and hide his interior world from the Pack’s scrutiny. Their well meaning, but frequently misapplied concern, especially his mother’s.  

“They need us at the Stilinski meeting as soon as possible,” she said after reading the message. 

Derek groaned and made a point of completing his lift, though his form was shaky in his annoyance. He’d heard of the letter “requesting” they all attend, but last night when he asked what time he should be ready to go he’d been assured that their presence wasn’t necessary. His presence, really. If she weren’t his usual bodyguard he bet they’d have taken Malia along. It wasn’t that he particularly wanted to go, but he resented being summarily excluded. Again.

Growing up, Derek had never felt like a stereotypical alpha and being months past his 16th birthday he’d been worried about presenting as a beta, who tended to take longer to reveal their secondary sex than alphas did. Not because he thought there was anything was wrong with betas, but because he knew what it would mean in his family. He didn’t want to be different. Othered. 

Not once though did he imagine that he could be an omega. Between Hale genetics being what they were and the rarity of omegas in general (and male ones in particular) it was so beyond the realm of possibility that that particular fear hadn’t even crossed his mind. Then came that first humiliating heat. 

Derek had been playing video games in the den downstairs when it started, not recognizing the first symptoms. Feeling just a bit off he’d taken a nap on the couch only to wake up a few hours later confused and burning up. Simultaneously very uncomfortable and extremely horny, not to mention damp where he’d never been before. It was frightening. 

Ten year old Cora had wandered in to play with her action figures and been alarmed to see him sweaty and groaning and yelled that he looked really sick. Peter had been the first to investigate and after several moments of shock had started laughing and offered to find him a “knotty boy” in front of his now present and scandalized mother.

He’d ended up locked inside an interrogation room with an inflatable mattress and some sheets and a blanket. Laura ran out to hastily purchase some random toys for him and then put them inside with snacks and water, but no one came around to make sure he ate or drank for longer than was healthy. They hadn’t known better.  

Every wolf born in the past four generations of the main Hale family, all 30 of the 37 descendants of his great-grandfather Desmond Hale who had presented before him, had been alphas. (So had the three since.) The only non-alphas in their bloodline had been the mates of those born Hales, mostly betas and a handful of alpha-alpha pairs. There were just two omegas over that time frame: the wife of one of his second cousins and a deceased great uncle-in-law. 

His beta father, Aaron, had been “blamed” for the anomaly having had an omega grandfather as well as a baby brother and two female cousins in his family. He’d died from smoke inhalation saving a handful of strangers from a house fire several years before Derek presented and had been cut off from his family when he mated the infamous Talia Hale, so they’d had no close and trusted source of advice and firsthand information. Oh, they’d read articles and browsed web forums and asked Deaton (who was not at all well versed in the subject) about it, but his family simply hadn’t really known what to do with any omega, much less a male one. 

They’d muddled through, but not without plenty of scars to show for it, mostly on Derek’s end. All of the times when they treated him differently and shouldn’t have, especially after he was kidnapped at 17 by a gang led by a supernatural-hating fanatic.

His mother had been overprotective before then, but when they got him back — bruised and traumatized, but before the worst had happened — he could barely take a piss without someone hovering nearby. 

Derek was steered away from or outright denied any position that might put him “at special risk” as an omega, which was practicality everything of rank or actually interesting. He would not be trained to be Laura’s Second as was customary for the next born nor sent on missions or even errands. If he were more technologically inclined he could’ve worked his way up in Intelligence, but torrenting foreign tv shows and troubleshooting the wifi were about the extent of his abilities. Anything related to their less-than-legal operations were off-limits as well. Unsafe.

No, Derek’s contribution to the Pack was in “Procurement and Supply Management,” i.e. making sure that the Manor and their other private or commercial properties never ran out of pasta or printer ink or toilet paper and that the lights stayed on. He also sometimes floated around filling in for members in Document Control or Internal Mail or did grunt work for the accountants. Sterile and boring.    

Conversely, the one area where they should’ve taken his omega status into account they regularly failed to do so. Acted as if the same level of physical bonding and affection they normally engaged in would be enough for him. At least some of the pack had learned that omegas required more, knew that intellectually, but habits being as they were it generally hadn’t been the case in practice. 

After getting met with annoyed glances or told that someone would come by later and have them never show he simply stopped asking after a while. Cuddling with his sisters once or twice a week while watching movies or tv shows and the occasional touches from his mother had kept him going, but he’d been low to mid-level touch starved much of the time and occasionally worse.

Since presenting Derek always felt at least somewhat apart from the pack as whole. He’d been teased by Peter and the beta soldiers, Aidan and Ethan, who often accompanied him before Malia was of age. He’d overheard certain comments from several others and withdrew even further inside himself, becoming more and more skilled at locking himself away.

What was the point of letting on exactly how dissatisfied and disconnected he felt? Things wouldn’t actually change, there’d just be some grumbling and there-theres and attempts to fix him instead of the situation. 

Things had definitely improved when Malia arrived and had been amenable to random cuddling, but he still held himself back from doing it as often as he wanted to in fear of being a burden. 

No one had been more surprised that Peter had a child than the playboy wolf himself, an alpha coyote-wolf hybrid that had long since been abandoned by her mother. She’d been a hellion of a street kid, causing all sorts of mischief and lashing out while trying to survive, until one day she’d ended up hauled in before the crew leader in charge of protection. 

There was something about her, perhaps certain notes in her scent or something vaguely familiar in her appearance or manner, that gave Finstock pause before delivering the standard beating — non-life threatening or severely damaging — for a shifter her age. The wild-haired Bitten wolf was eccentric and prone to randomly bringing up his lost testicle, but had an uncanny sense about things and kept order in the streets, neither too soft nor overly cruel. Inquires were made, fingerprints and DNA ran, and surprise, congratulations, it was a bouncing baby snarling 16 year old Hale! 

It didn’t take long for her and the then 19 year old Derek to gravitate towards each other, coming from two very different upbringings, but both outsiders in their own way. Malia was trained up and when she turned 18 became his primary bodyguard and the rest was history. 

“C’mon, lets’s bounce,” she said, poking him in the shoulder. “ASAP means ASAP.”

“ASAP also means no shower or change of clothes,” Derek growled, lamenting that Hale Manor was in the opposite direction. He could’ve been there as presentable and on time as everyone else, but nooo. The most he could do was towel off some and slather on the deodorant he had in his bag.

“They’ll just have to deal,” she replied, shrugging. Her lack of concern for propriety was one of the many things he loved about her, but the rules were different for him. Oh well, the only wolves there would be family so perhaps he wouldn’t get that kind of shit for it. Hopefully the Stilinskis had been informed in advance and wouldn’t take their appearance as a slight.

“I guess so,” he muttered, wiping the barbell down quickly before tossing the towel in the used bin. They headed outside and he unlocked the black Camaro in the spot upfront reserved for him. Sliding behind the wheel, he strapped in and started it up as Malia pulled up the directions on her phone. Here we go.

#sterek #sterek fanfic #equiknots #trisk #equiknots trisk

[munsonsduchess]

The Healed Man

summary: it’s been two weeks since steve and dustin brought eddie to your door and two weeks since eddie has been awake

w/c: 1,486

warnings: mentions of injury, mentions of blood, unwanted physical attention (billy hargrove and tommy hagan keep insinuating that you should all be friends), swearing

a/n: welcome to part three of shadow of the moon, you can find part two here, i’m honestly really excited about this series and i can’t wait to share more of it with you all, if you see a typo then say nothing and have a drink of water to forget

dividers are by @firefly-graphics and the moodboard was made by me 💛

It had been a tense couple of weeks since Prince Steven and Dustin had arrived on your doorstep with a bloodied and mauled Edward Munson in need of your aid. You’d managed to bring the young man back to some semblance of stability and had moved him to your own bed to recover instead of laying on your kitchen table.

In the meantime you’d gone back to business as usual, creating your little spells and charms for the townsfolk, love spells for girls who were enamored with the Prince, a boy in the next town over, farmers wishing for a good harvest. It would disturb people to have a bandaged, sometimes still bleeding, boy on your work table.

You changed Edward’s bandages when you had the time. Reapplied the salves. Did whatever you could to keep his body healing.

During this time you’d also met Dustin’s mother, Will’s Mother, Jane’s father, Mike’s older sister Nancy and Lucas’ younger sister Erica. The latter two being a force of nature all on their own.

You’d also met the Prince’s friend Robin who seemed to be keeping a secret of her own if you had to guess.

All of these new people expressed their concern at you living so far away from town and alone. The parents in particular expressed this concern but you’d waved it off,

“I’m not welcome in town” you’d said, “I’m not usually welcome in any towns. People find out who I am and what I am and they tend to not want me around”

“Load of horseshit if you ask me” Jane’s father Jim commented, “lots of stuff going on in that town is horseshit”

You’d learnt later from Will’s mother Joyce that Jim had lost a lot. He’d fought for the King in one of his wars, while he’d been away his daughter had fallen sick and nothing could be done. Jim’s wife was overcome with sadness and had walked to the river, never to come back. He’d found Jane wandering around the woods by herself, she couldn’t speak and wouldn’t eat much except bread but he’d taken her in immediately and cared for the child which everyone thought was ridiculous but Jim had brought Jane up regardless of what other people thought.

Joyce and Dustin’s mother Claudia had promised to come up regularly and check on you and Eddie for whatever you might need.

Among your list of visitors was the Prince himself who came by regularly every night to check on Eddie. He would ask you questions, how was he healing? How long until he woke? Had he said anything even in his sleep?

You didn’t have the answers for his questions and it pained you to see his crestfallen expression each evening. Still the Prince returned, night after night with the same questions.

When you’d see Nancy and Robin during the day they’d tell you that Steve was looking worse and worse every day. He wasn’t sleeping, hardly eating, he was on a mission apparently to find out what exactly had happened to Eddie. How it had happened.

Apparently Eddie did a lot of odd jobs to earn money since he too seemed to be unwelcome by the general townsfolk of Hawkins in the same way you were. People called him a freak and he had been accused of consorting with the devil more than once by certain members of the nobility.

Eddie’s uncle Wayne was a good man and Eddie did all he could to help the older man and he had been returning from a job that evening when he’d been attacked though by what or by whom seemed to be the root cause of the mystery. One that Steve was determined to figure out himself no matter how much his friends offered to help.

Just past the two week mark since Eddie had come into your care you’d needed to leave him in the care of Claudia Henderson and Joyce Byers while you’d gone to the local spring nearby to fill some bottles. You’d hadn’t expected to be gone all that long but the universe seemed to have other ideas.

No sooner had you arrived at the spring than you heard the sound of hoofbeats and men laughing. You’d looked up to see Billy Hargrove, Tommy Hagan and Jason Carver riding your way. Having absolutely no desire to interact with any of those men you’d tried to gather your bottles and leave as quickly as you could but Hargrove stopped you,

“Leaving so soon? Here I thought you were a friendly witch” he laughed, jumping down from his horse, “we just want to be friends right fellas?”

“Yeah. Best friends” Tommy agreed as he dismounted his own horse, “just like you’re such good friends with Stevie”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what you mean” you tried to play dumb hoping they’d find less amusement in your torment.

“I think you know exactly what we’re talking about” Carver’s lips were twisted in a cruel sneer. Of the three men he seemed to be taking the least pleasure in accosting you,

“So. How about it honey?” Hargrove had come up behind you and placed his hands on your hip, “let’s be friends”

“The best of friends” Hagan agreed again

You were looking around for a clear line of escape, of a way out of this situation before it went even more terribly, then you heard someone yell in the distance

“Get your hands off her!”

As you caught a glimpse of the Prince in the distance suddenly Hargrove and Hagan immediately backed off but not far enough for your liking,

“Awe come on Stevie. We’re just being friendly” Hagan grinned at him, “you guys are such good friends we figured we’d say hi”

“Maybe your little witch could help us with some problems” Hargrove laughed stepping closer to you again,

“I said get your hands off her” Steve commanded again, “leave her alone”

“You keep strange company Harrington” Carver snapped, “what would your father think if he knew you were visiting a witch each day”

“What would yours think Carver, if he knew you were so disrespectful to your prince?”

No one said anything for a while until eventually Hargrove just sighed and remounted his horse,

“Well that’s ruined my fun. Come on, I’m sure there’s girls who’ll actually be worth fucking in town”

Hagan snorted and remounted his horse, following after Hargrove without sparing a glance backwards at where you were standing. Carver however remained a free extra moments before following his friends.

You let out a sigh of relief and sagged onto the ground. This is why you avoided people, men in particular. Especially men like Hagan and Hargrove. Though it would seem as if Carver had no intention of following through with his friends plans but instead was working off his own agenda.

“I’m sorry about them. They’re assholes” Steve said, he had dismounted now and was walking over to you,

“How did you know I’d be here?” you asked him, no one but Claudia and Joyce knew where you were going,

“I had stopped by the cottage but you weren’t there and Joyce told me you were down here”

“You came to check on your friend” you nodded, “he still hasn’t woken up”

“I came to check on you. I know it can’t be easy looking after Eddie on your own and Claudia said you were sleeping on the floor?”

“I only have one bed your highness. I thought it best for your friend to rest in it rather than on the floor. I do not mind”

“I’ll have another mattress sent. You shouldn’t sleep on the floor”

You had opened your mouth to protest but the Prince had already moved and was gathering up your bottles,

“I’ll help you carry these back” the way he spoke brokered no argument so you simply let him and followed back to your cottage.

As you walked the Prince asked about your life, about your craft, what brought you to Hawkins. He seemed genuinely interested in getting to know you, which was a marketable change from what you were used to, especially from royalty.

As the cottage came into view you expected the Prince to walk off and leave you to your work but he followed you inside and placed your bottles on the work table,

He bid goodbye to Joyce and Claudia as they headed back into town but still he remained.

“Your highness really you - ” you were about to say that Steve could go on his way, that you would be fine but then you heard something else,

“Steve?” Your head snapped around to where a bandaged but awake Eddie Munson was standing in the doorway to your bedroom looking directly at you, “who the hell are you?”

Taglist: @babyrunsforfanfic @novelnovella @pillow-titties @yappydoo @filthy-gorgeous-library @likedovesinthewnd @insertcoolnameherethanks

Let me know if you want to be added!

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #duchess writes #duchess.txt #shadow of the moon 🌙

[kent-farm]

—Smallville, “Harvest”

#Smallville #Clark Kent #Tom Welling #Lois Lane #Erica Durance #Clois #10.07 Harvest

[smallcloisville]

I also laugh with Lois here 🤭 it's just feels so good finally seeing Clark using his powers without hiding in front of her♡

#smallville #smallville edit #my edit #svedit #lois lane #clark kent #clois #erica durance #tom welling #superman #harvest #my caps

[ghelgheli]

The Stuff I Read in October 2023

Stuff I Extra Liked is Bold

Books

Women with Mustaches and Men without Beards, Afsaneh Najmabadi

Network Effect, Martha Wells

Fugitive Telemetry, Martha Wells

Gateway, Frederik Pohl

A Call to Arms: Iran's Marxist Revolutionaries, Ali Rahnema

Manga (mostly yuri)

Aoi Hana / Blue Flowers, Takako Shimura

Kekkon Aite no Jouken ni Perfect datta no wa Shokuba no Kouhai Joshi deshita / Mr. Right Turned Out To Be A Younger Woman, Kozumi Miura

Tokidoki kaette kuru on'na tomodachi no hanashi / My Lady Friend Who Visits Now and Again, Sumiko Arai

She Loves to Cook and She Loves to Eat Vol 3, Sakaomi Yuzaki

Double House, Nanae Haruno

Fujouri na Atashitachi / An Absurd Relationship, Jin Takemiya

The Girls' Arcadia, Yatosaki Haru

Recipe for Arcadia, Yatosaki Haru

Short Fiction (all SF)

17776, Jon Bois [link]

The Merchants of Venus, Frederik Pohl

The Merchants of Venus, A. H. Phelps Jr.

The Erasure Game, Yoon Ha Lee

Compulsory, Martha Wells

Obsolescence, Martha Wells

Home: Habitat, Range, Niche, Territory, Martha Wells

The Shoe Shop Jinn, Sakina Hassan [link]

Earth-747, Saud Ahmed [link]

Communism, History, Politics

The Palestinian Left Will Not Be Hijacked – A Critique of Palestine: A Socialist Introduction - Viewpoint Magazine, Samar Al-Saleh & L.K. [Viewpoint Magazine]

The Algerian War: Cause Célèbre of Anticolonialism, Malika Rahal [JSTOR]

Socialism for the Welsh People, Gareth Miles & Robert Griffiths

Soviet time capsules: messages from the past with lessons to teach us in 2017, Sasha Raspopina [New East Archive]

No Human Being Can Exist, Saree Makdisi [n+1]

The Other Nuremberg Trials, Seventy-Five Years On, Erica X Eisen [Boston Review]

The 1932 Harvest and the Famine of 1933, Mark B. Tauger [JSTOR]

Political Islam in the Service of Imperialism, Samir Amin [link]

Dismantle the ADL [link]

Women and Men, Cloth and Colonization: The Transformation of Production-Distribution Relations among the Baule, Mona Etienne [JSTOR]

Iranica

The Defender: Waiting for the revolution in Tehran, Nargol Aran [Point Magazine]

Divided by a Common Tongue: Exclusionary Politics of Persian-Language Pedagogy, Aria Fani [link]

The Necessity of Armed Struggle and Refutation of the Theory of “Survival”, Amir Parviz Pooyaan [pdf on marxists dot org]

Queer Stuff/Feminism (broadly construed)

Cultural Feminism: Feminist Capitalism and the Anti-Pornography Movement, Alice Echols [JSTOR]

Against the "Prison/Psychiatric State": Anti-violence Feminisms and the Politics of Confinement in the 1970s, Emily Thuma [JSTOR]

"Some Could Suckle over Their Shoulder": Male Travelers, Female Bodies, and the Gendering of Racial Ideology, 1500-1770, Jennifer L. Morgan [JSTOR]

Collective Memory and the Transfeminist 1970s: Toward a Less Plausible History, Finn Enke [DOI]

Racial-Class Paternalism and the Trojan Horse of Anti-transmasculinity, Nsámbu Za Suékama [Medium]

Trans Misogyny in the Colonial Archive: Re-Membering Trans Feminine Life and Death in New Spain, 1604–1821, Jamey Jesperson [DOI]

Other

The Establishment of Scientific Semantics, Rudolf Carnap

On What There Is, Willard V. Quine [JSTOR]

On the Ancestral Plane: Crip Hand Me Downs and the Legacy of Our Movements, Stacey Milbern [link]

Megastructures, Superweapons and Global Architectures in Science Fiction Computer Games, Mark R. Johnson [link]

#reading prog #yeah yeah i'm getting back on the strang linalg in november the last month has kept me busy with teaching #a day late bc it's been busy as hell

[akajustmerry]

Merry! Are you watching Murder at the End of the World? What do you think is happening? Any ideas on whodunit?

MY SWEET ERICA I AM AND I'M LOVING IT I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS. firstly, I've been convinced of lee as the main suspect ever since she asked Darby to hack for her. Secondly, I think there's something wrong with Ray or that Ray has been hacked or isn't what he seems. Idk if he's a murderous AI, but I think Andy has him collecting data from the guests for something. Something that keeps coming up again and again is that Andy isn't actually the innovator. His robots aren't his, the AI isn't his, his own son isn't his - I think he's using the AI to harvest the guests' intellect but they have to be in a high stress situation for it to work. I feel like this is all an experiment to improve the AI. SO, to answer the question I think Andy has done it and Lee is in on it. idk if any of that makes sense. either that or Lee is using the controlled chaos to escape Andy.

#holly-mckenzie #a murder at the end of the world

[jakeowen]

no offense but literally like. imagine you’re a heart surgeon. and you’re a stone-cold bitch but you have this one patient you really care about, and he needs a heart transplant and he’s been waiting and waiting and you’ve been waiting and waiting and all you can do is wait and finally a match comes through and you get in a chopper to go get the heart personally and you scrub in and everything and then suddenly your fucking asshole med school rival bursts in and says “no! give it to me!” and gets on the phone with the transplant coordinator to demand he get the heart because ackshually his patient needs it more and for some reason they give him an hour to prove it??? and then an hour later her leavesyou with his shitty little intern and like three hours later he has nothing to show and actually he has been shot. in the arm. so you fucking harvest the heart which btw is kind of a somber experience bc this man on your table is fully dead and you’re killing him actually which is not why you became a heart surgeon. but whatever you have the heart, you’re going to save your patients life, but knock knock it’s shitty little intern again and he not only steals the heart that was about to save your favorite patient’s life BUT you have to do the surgery on your rival’s patient because of the whole shot in the arm situation. and ok you save the guy’s life which is still like, why you became a heart surgeon even if it’s not your favorite patient. and then a few days later you find out that dude died anyway! but ok. months later you transfer hospitals and meet a hot girl and whoops! turns out you’re gay! except then you find out that shitty little intern? his shitty little intern girlfriend it turns out cheated to steal that heart, violating literally AAAAAAALLLLLL medical ethics because back then the patient was her boyfriend! and there were noooooooooooo consequences! and you ask your hot girlfriend about her and she’s like “oh yeah she slept with my husband” and it’s like. ok. well. i’m gonna report her for violating all medical ethics and maybe also a little for being a slut. and your girlfriend’s like. “no. i hate her but she deserved to violate all medical ethics at tangible cost to someone you care about.” anyway justice for erica hahn. bitch could literally see the leaves

[gplovesmbav]

this episode was so bizarre why so many fart sound effects why were those girls in baby costumes and why does nobody talk about the fact that erica mentions basically going on a date with a girl and then stealing her clothes and phone

also how do the boys just know how to properly harvest alligator skin

#mbav #my babysitter's a vampire #my babysitters a vampire #benny weir #mbav benny #benny mbav #mbav fanart #myart

[bxldrsdraumar]

As the evening has progressed and the entertainment has been had, either by you or your hosts, you eventually find your way to your seat (assigned or stolen) - the table has been set with all manner of lush dishes in a family style setting, and you sneak glimpses of portions of the foods that you all have prepared dotting the tables. But the chef and your hosts have been hard at work preparing the main course for you, and when there is the slightest lull in conversation Sigurd gently taps the tines of his fork against his glass and stands, clearing his throat.

'Greetings, all! To begin, I want to ensure you all know how grateful I am to have you here - my sister and I both. We thank you, truly. This would not have been possible without all of you.'

The shining man seems born to be in the spotlight, and his face is all smiles as he looks about the room, raising his glass in toast to all of the faces looking back at him.

'Secondly, we have a further surprise for you - a dish! The main dish, in fact, that we've remembered from our own childhood. Why, I remember our steward made the most delectable spread, but one year our father Byron - bless his heart, the man - attempted to deep fry the thing in oil as one might a besieging army!' He laughs for a moment as though this is the height of comedy before he sees some distant looks of horror, clears his throat, smiles charmingly. 'But I digress.

"This is a delicacy that some might remember from harvest feasts of their own, or something new to them entirely - oh, and fear not! Those who have indicated to us their dietary preferences, we are not here to exclude you, or trick you. Our chef is a genius, and has recreated this in *plant form* - it's truly the most astounding thing, I believe he's taken - oh no, my apologies, there I go again.' He laughs again.

'I will pass it off to my sister to say a few words, and then she and I would like to give back as you have given us - and we will be going around to all guests to serve, and in our turn, to remind you for all that we are grateful.'

Ethlyn rolls her eyes as Sigurd finally finishes his speech and the attention of the room is directed toward her.

“Don’t worry,” she teases, “I won’t keep you long. My brother has always been the more long winded of the two of us.

“I might not be a Chalphy anymore,” she takes a moment to smile at the man seated to her left and gives his hand a quick squeeze, “but I hold the traditions of the land of my birth close to my heart. It means the world that I am able to share them again with both of my families and also with you, my dear friends. So, please, enjoy! And, for Baldr’s sake, eat! There is so much food here!”

A Big Thanks!

Today is the final day of the inaugural Baldrs Bounty feast!

As a special thank you to all who replied to the interest check, tches and Erica will have Sigurd and Ethlyn going around - so check your inboxes! Feel free to continue with your threads at your leisure, but the event post with prompts will no longer be pinned on Sigurd's page as off 11.59 EST to mark the end of the event.

We'd really like to thank everyone who participated in this, our first event! We learned so much, and we really couldn't have pulled this off without you guys. If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, feel free to contact tches or Erica!

#out of character #toabaldrsbounty