#he went whooaaa!! it worked!!!

[book-place]

Home

Warnings: cursing, injuries, let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Winchester brothers x sister reader, Castiel x reader platonic

*not my gif*

Summary: Throughout the Winchesters entire lives, there was only one place that brought back as much memories as it did for them. Both good and bad

A/N: This was fun to write- not the best writing- but it was fun

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

Being crammed into a car with your family was never ideal, but the Winchester’s always made it work.

That was because they didn’t have an ordinary car, they had a 1967 Chevy Impala, or as they called her, Baby.

To them, Baby was home.

True, they lived in the bunker now, but the car was something that through their hard lives, always reminded a constant.

Sam and Dean were in the front seats, per usual, while you were sprawled out across the back seats with your head against the window.

You listened to the familiar and calming sound of Baby’s engine and the quiet rock music coming from the radio as your eyes began to droop.

-•-

John glanced into the rearview mirror at his five year old daughter in the back of his car.

“Daddy?” You suddenly called to him.

“Yes, sweetie?” He answered with a small smile.

“Could you pwease turn up the radio?” You asked, your doe eyes wide.

“Of course honey.” John turned up the volume and chuckled softly when you started singing along to the best of your ability.

-•-

“I don’t know about this Dean.” You said, eyeing the steering wheel suspiciously.

“Come on,” Dean encouraged from the passenger seat, “You’re fourteen now and I think it’s time you learned. Now show me what you know.”

His younger sister hesitated for another moment before taking a deep breath and slowly putting your hands on the wheel.

Hesitantly, you put your foot on the gas, careful not to put too much pressure on it, and you slowly started rolling through the vacant parking lot.

“There you go!” Dean grinned, “Now add a little more pressure.”

You did as you were told, more confidently now, and Baby went a little faster.

“Good, good, now turn.” Dean said enthusiastically, but secretly gripped the seat just in case.

You did exactly that by turning the wheel right and soon enough you was driving around the entire parking lot, swerving, and turning confidently.

“Okay, and now the brake.” Dean said after a little while.

As soon as you did that you took Dean by surprise by throwing yourself across the seat and into his arms.

“Thank you De.” You mumbled into his shirt.

-•-

“WHOAAA WE’RE HALFWAY THEREEEEE!” Dean belted.

“WHOOAAA LIVN’ ON A PRAYER!” You continued, both grinning at the grumpy Sam in the backseat.

You and him had a huge battle for who would get to sit in the front seat, usually he won, not today though. And that seemed to put a big damper in his mood.

“Come on, Sammy!” Dean encouraged his younger brother.

“Take my hand we’ll make it I swear.” He mumbled unenthusiastically.

“That’s the spirit!” You cheered from your glorious spot in the front of the car.

-•-

“Come on! Damn it, Y/n don’t close your eyes! Don’t you dare close them!” Dean shouted at you from the driver's seat, taking a very risky long look at you through the rear view mirror.

Sam lightly but firmly kept tapping your face, trying to keep you from passing out due to the lack of blood.

“Come on, bug, keep your eyes open for just a little longer. We’re almost at the hospital. You’re going to be okay.” Sam told you, trying to sound confident for your sake, but was failing miserably when he started choking up at the end.

“It’s okay, I just need a little nap…” you lazily told the boys, trying to close your eyes without Sam noticing so that you wouldn’t get woken up again.

Of course he noticed though, and lightly slapped you, the thing you were trying to avoid.

“Stop dat,” you slurred, “das annoying.”

“You’re going to be okay.” Dean whispered, trying to convince himself more than anyone else.

-•-

“I’m not okay!” You complained dramatically, falling backwards as if being shot.

“You're fine, no shut up and deal with it.” Dean grumbled, starting to lose his patients.

“But Deannnn,” You complained, leaning forward to poke your head between Sam and Dean in the front seats, “What if I’m not fine? Then you will feel so guilty when I die!”

“You’re not dying, so for the last time, shut up and wait in the motel room.” He finally snapped.

You pouted, “But I wanna help.”

Dean sighed, softening, “I know kiddo, but this one is too dangerous for you. If we need help, I promise you will be the first one we call.”

You thought about it for a second, “Promise?” You challenged, holding up your pinkie.

“Promise.” Dean accepted, wrapping his pinkie around yours.

-•-

“Uno!” You cried, slamming down your last card.

Cass’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “But that is impossible, we only just started moments ago.”

You shrugged innocently as you started picking up the cards to play again.

“Don’t listen to her, Cass,” Sam called from the front seat, “She’s just cheating.”

You put a hand over your heart, “You wound me, brother! As if I would ever do such a thing!”

Dean rolled his eyes from the driver's seat, “Aren’t we supposed to be on a stakeout?”

“Yes.” You and Cass said in sync, already staring at your new cards intensely.

Sam chuckled while Dean yet again rolled his eyes.

-•-

You squirmed uncomfortably under the stare of Cass, Sam, and Dean.

Cass sat next to you while Sam and Dean were turned around in the front seat, “It’s not a big deal.” You mumbled weakly.

“NOT A BIG-“ Sam elbowed Dean hard in the ribs to get him to stop yelling. Screaming at you wouldn’t get them anywhere, he knew that.

Sam sighed and tried a different approach, “N/n, you were on a date.”

“I’m aware.” You snapped, gaining some of your former confidence that you had lost as soon as the three of them marched into the restaurant that you and your date were at, with looks that could kill on their faces.

Castiel seemed to stare into your soul, “I thought that humans this young were not supposed to go on dates.”

You turned her glare to the angel, “I’m fifteen! That is most definitely NOT too young!”

“It most definitely is.” Dean challenged, having a mini stare off with you.

Sam sighed, snapping in front of both of your faces so you would both blink. And when you did, you both turned your glares to him. “Listen, n/n… we’re just trying to look out for you.” He tried to reason with you softly.

“Well, I don’t need to look out for me.” You snapped, crossing your arms and leaning back grumpily in your seat.

“We were upset because we care.” He kept trying.

“It is true, Y/n.” Cass said.

You relaxed and sighed, you looked over to Dean, waiting for him to say something.

He took one look at you and sighed as well, “Sammy’s right n/n… I’m sorry for getting mad.”

You gave a small smile and threw yourself into Dean's arms, “I know you guys just do it because you care.”

Dean sighed, this time in relief and happiness, before wrapping his arms around his little sister.

“So does this mean I can go on another date?”

“Absolutely not.”

-•-

“I’m just saying!” Sam defended, holding his hands up in surrender, “It wouldn’t kill you two to eat a salad every once and a while!”

You and Dean shared a glance and then looked at your brother as if he had grown a second head, “It most definitely will.” Dean said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Salads will turn us into aliens.” You whispered, a horrified look taking over your face, as you glanced around nervously.

Sam opened his mouth then snapped it shut, not knowing how to answer that. “Isn’t… isn’t that what Dean told you when you were like- what- five?”

You nodded fearfully, eyeing Sam’s salad as if it was going to jump out and attack you at any given moment.

Dean had to bite back a laugh and then cough to cover up a small chuckle that came out.

Sam just glared at his older brother, “Dude! She’s sixteen!”

It took everything Dean had to keep a straight face, “And she can believe what she wants.”

Your eyes bounced back and forth between your brother's faces, “What’s going on?”

Sam threw Dean a bitch face until the elder of the two finally broke and sighed, “N/n, there’s something I need to tell you…”

-•-

“How about I don’t?” You offered, your face full of hope.

“You need to go to school, Y/n.” Sam told you from the front seat.

“No I don't! Do I Dean?” You turned to your eldest brother, hoping to get some backup.

Dean just pretended to be confused, “I-err… what?”

“You used to tell me all the time how useless school is when you are in our line of work!” You reminded him impatiently.

“I did?” Dean asked in fake surprise as Sam asked at the same time, “You did?” In real surprise.

Dean coughed, glancing away from Sam’s death glare, “Umm… you need to go to school n/n.”

“But you specifically told me that school is ‘boring, pointless, and useless. You won’t need it in our life of work, besides nobody wants to go to school and turn into a nerd like Sam.’” You imitated his deep voice as you quoted what your older brother had told you.

Dean's eyes widened and he looked at you in betrayal before fearfully looking over at Sam who looked like he was about to explode, “I-what? Pftt, noooo. School is definitely very, very important n/n, you should most definitely go.”

You shrugged and hopped out the door, right in front of the school, “Okay.”

Dean's eyes widened even more in disbelief as he realized what you just did, “Hey-what-get back here!” He yelled out, desperately wanting to get away from his younger brother's wrath.

You just laughed and ran through the school doors, ignoring the yelling coming from the car.

-•-

You looked back and forth between your brothers with an intimidating glare on your face.

“What’s going on?” You demanded as they avoided looking at you.

“Nothing.” Dean mumbled weakly as Sam nodded along.

“Then what is that?” You asked with a raised eyebrow, pointing to the cat that was sitting in the middle of your two brothers in the backseat of the impala.

“Okay, fine,” Sam broke first.

Dean's eyes widened and he looked to his little brother in sheer horror, “Sammy, no!”

The middle Winchester didn’t meet his eyes out of shame “We found it on a hunt, and we didn’t want to leave it alone.”

You took a deep breath to try and calm yourself down so you didn’t explode at them, “You two idiots can’t even keep a goldfish alive, and barely yourselves. Let alone a whole ass cat!”

“We’ll take it on walks and water it every day!” Dean begged, putting his hands together and shaking them at you.

Sam looked like he was about to facepalm.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, “YOU FUCKING IDIOT-“

-•-

You lolled your head to the side, looking at your half asleep brothers beside you, all in the backseat because Cass insisted on driving and when none of you could decide who was allowed to sit shotgun, he made you all sit in the back.

“I love you boys.” You mumbled before closing your eyes in the car that held so many memories for you.

You were asleep before you could even hear all three of them chorus it back.

Supernatural Taglist: @ineedmorefanfics2

#platonic #platonic imagine #x reader #supernatural #spn fic #teen reader #child reader #platonic reader #sam winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x platonic!reader #sam x sister!reader #sam winchester #dean winchester #dean winchester x sister!reader #dean winchester x platonic!reader #castiel x child!reader #castiel x platonic!reader #castiel x reader platonic #spn x reader #spn #spn sister reader

[ao3gingerswag]

today i watched one of my 6th graders put an airpod between his teeth and crack it like a nut.

#ao3gingerswag #he went whooaaa!! it worked!!! #i was like................................why did u do that #and he stared and me and then said............................................................................i dont know #i was like :/ ok well. dont do that to the other one. bc if u do are u gonna be able to listen to ur audiobook? #and i stared and him and wouldnt leave until he said no i wont be able to listen to my audiobook #and i said ok so are we gonna do that again #and he was like :( no #they are so stupid it is unbelievable i love them so much #teaching #personal #adventures in teaching

[the-goddessfighter]

[Part 1] Truly a blessing in the morning to see your recent Batarou commission artwork! I was waking up again after finally went to sleep (Murata's newest chapter kept me from sleeping), then the 1st thing I saw is your art WHOOAAA IT'S SO SOFT AND BEAUTIFUL I'M AT A LOSS OF WORDS-- 😳💗💘💕💕

I'd say it's such a heart-touching reunion between Garou and Badd, I'm so glad they meet again. The way Badd jumped on Garou then clinging and hugging him tightly, not wanting to let him go.. *crying in happiness* 😭💖 I also like Garou's caught off-guard surprised expression once he's hugged by Badd! He looks very innocent when he's not on feral mode, pure good wolfman 🐺💕

And Badd is indeed very affectionate towards Garou in here! Even without words, his face already said it all about how much Badd missed Garou, it's like he wanted to cry (me, too! 😢) but at the same time he feels glad and relieved to see his beloved boyfriend again, safe and sound in his arms aww.. I'm really sure Garou will have Badd koala-hugging him like that for next hours, but he's totally didn't mind at all lmao 🐨😆

[Part 2] For the art itself, I can say this seems so soft and tender! Especially the lighting and the colouring, it helped to show the tenderness of what's going on between two reunited lovers. I LOVE it, you've done great on conveying the whole affectionate atmosphere for this drawing: no words no dialogue yet full of emotions and FEELS™ 😍😚👍💯💖 Looking for the setting, was it in Badd's attic or Garou's temporary hideout? Since I can see pillow, blanket, and Garou's notebook on the table 👀👀✨ Either way Badd must be just found him then immediately launching himself running towards his monster bf, before proceed to envelop him with big warm hug, letting Garou knows that he missed him so badly aww.. 😣💕

[Part 3] Still can't get over about the look on Badd's face and the way he clung tightly onto Garou's neck, holding himself from sobbing, while Garou still trying to process about what just happened. But surely he'd hug him back as a way to comfort and reassure Badd that he wont go for too long again.. Both of them are just so in love with eachother :"")💕 THANK YOU SO MUCH for working so hard on this MASTERPIECE Batarou art, it's truly wonderful and such powerful Serotonin Boost™! We're very grateful and feel blessed by your artworks so thank youuuu aaaaaa I LOVE THIS SM 😍😭🙏💕💞💖💝 Coincidentally, both Murata and you have been delivering such godsend OPM contents today woow I'm well fed this morning 😋🍴🍰💕 Hope you have a nice weekend, Temperans-sama, we love you~ 😘❤💜💙💖🌸💐

-----------

Actually, that's Badd's room, it's funny to think that G tends to sneak in through his window on the second floor😅😂. Most likely after a well-deserved hug they lay down on the futon to talk about everything Garou did while he was out💘💖😳

I was in class when I saw the new chapter, I stopped paying attention to the teacher just to see each page ... I don't regret it. It's true that I went for a Coke😱, I didn't expect G to come out so fast at all.

#ask #batarou #garou #badd #myart #opm season 2 #❤💋💘💖 #anon!:v #🌄 #the hero hunter #metal bat

[colbybrocksmolder]

Blue - Colby Brock x Reader - Part 1/3

I just want to start this out by saying that there’s mention of a past shitty relationship in this. Nothing is described in detail and it’s not crazy, but I figured I’d mention it just in case someone didn’t want to read this one. Also, I know that Colby’s apartment is the single bedroom version, but I wrote it more like Sam’s apartment. 2 bedrooms. Other than that, enjoy.

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

“Yo, Mike!” Colby called, walking into Sam’s apartment. The weekly pizza party was well underway, as Colby searched through half empty boxes for a slice of pizza that didn’t have any vegetables on it.

“What’s up?” Mike called back, over the noise of the multiple conversations all happening at once in the living room.

“Dude, do you remember that artist I sent you a few months back? The girl that does super chill covers of like og emo songs?” Colby asked him, walking towards the couch.

“Yeah, yeah. You sent me the Taking Back Sunday cover, right?” Mike answered.

“Brother! She just covered one of your songs.” Colby said, tossing Mike his phone.

“No fucking way.” Mike said, putting the phone speaker close to his ear trying to hear it. “It’s too fucking loud in here”, he grumbled, hopping over the back of the couch and walking into Sam’s filming room.

Colby followed, closing the door behind him. “Start it over! I haven’t listened to it yet.”

Mike turned the volume all the way up and set the phone down in front of the both of them. The piano started a few seconds before the lyrics to “Bottles” beautifully flowed from her mouth.

“This is unreal.” Mike said, pointing to his arm. “I have goosebumps, dude.”

“Her voice gets me every time.” Colby added, shoving his pizza into his mouth.

Suddenly the filming room door swung open, Sam walking in. “Please don’t tell me you’re trying to stay here overnight again.” Sam whined, laughing.

“SSSSSHHHHHHHHHH” was the response he got, both Mike and Colby urging him to shut up.

“Jeez.” Sam threw his hands up in defense, walking over to see what they were doing. “Whoa, is this y/n?” Sam asked Colby.

“Covering my song.” Mike said, continuing to stare at the screen.

Slowly a few curious others in the group made their way into the small room. “Who was that?” Kat asked, having heard the last half of the song.

Colby turned around, seeing everyone standing behind him. “Holy shit!” he jumped, laughing. “I didn’t know anyone else was in here.”

“Her name is Y/n. She’s this cover artist that Colby has been listening to for like 3 years. She posts her own songs too, but she’s known for doing covers of songs that aren’t really ‘pretty’ songs and turning them into…well what you just heard.” Sam explained.

“She’s got a beautiful voice.” Kat replied, leaning down to look at the phone. “The video has over 200k views, too. That’s good exposure for you, Mike.”

“No way.” Colby grabbed his phone. “I got the video notification less than an hour ago.”

“This is nuts.” Mike said, grabbing his own phone.

Looking underneath the video title, Colby read the description to himself. “Dude, dude, dude. Listen to this.” he said, reading the description out loud. “Hey everyone! Today’s cover means a lot to me. For those of you that follow my blog, you know that I’ve been struggling to feel motivated to continue posting videos. Lately it feels like so many artists just want to drag other artists. There’s a lot of negativity and judgement and honestly, it just feels shallow and fake.”

“Preach, girl.” Kat half mumbled.

Colby laughed, continuing. “Over the last month or so, I’ve been fortunate enough to have found quite a few new artists that have inspired me to continue pushing the genre boundaries. Mike’s Dead is one of those artists.” Colby paused to slap Mike on the shoulder before continuing. “He posts what he wants to post and it’s so refreshing to see someone that doesn’t really care if you like it or not. It doesn’t matter if you fit in a cookie cutter mold. It doesn’t matter if you like sad songs or gospel songs or rap songs. It doesn’t matter if you wear short skirts or baggy t shirts or too much eye liner. If you want to create, create. The world needs more people creating and less people tearing others down. Thank you, Mike. You’ll probably never see this, but if you do, I hope you enjoy it. -Love, Y/n. #DeadArmy”

“Damn, son.” Kevin yelled, “My boy out here reachin’ people!” He threw his arms around Mike, jumping up and down.

“I don’t even know what to do.” Mike said, falling back on the couch. “Do I dm her? Do I tweet out the cover? Do I ask her to marry me?” he laughed.

“Damnit, you’re taller than me AND you make music. There go my chances with her.” Colby laughed.

“I’m gonna tweet this out. Do you know her twitter handle?” Mike asked.

“Yeah, yeah. Right here.” Colby pointed to her social media list in her description.

“How does this sound?” Mike said, reading his tweet. “I’m speechless. @ColbyBrock just showed me the most breathtaking cover of one of my songs posted by @y/n. I literally have no words. *link* Everyone go show this girl all the love!”

“Go for it, dude. I’ll retweet it.” Colby replied. Everyone else in the room grabbed their phones to do the same. Colby hit the retweet button, adding his own message. “I’ve been listening to this girl for a few years now and it’s CRAZY to see her cover one of my friend’s songs. She has the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard. Everybody check the video out and fill the comment section with love!”

Everybody made sure to follow her twitter and sub to her channel.

Mike scrolled through the responses he got to his tweet. “Someone just replied asking if this was why my subscribers went up so quickly.”

“Check your live count.” Sam said, writing out his own retweet. “Living with @ColbyBrock I’ve definitely heard all of this girl’s covers at least a hundred times. You are going to be blown away by what she did with Mike’s song. Go listen!”

“Holy shit, my subs have doubled.” Mike said, throwing his phone to Colby. “I don’t know what’s going on. Someone tell me we have alcohol in this apartment.”

“Next door, brother. My place, above the dishwasher. Grab whatever.” Colby replied, watching Mike’s live sub count continue to grow.

The next morning, Colby woke up to a follow notification and a dm from y/n. “Hey! Omg! Thank you so much for passing my cover on to Mike. And thank you for saying such kind things. I woke up to THOUSANDS of comments from your fans and all of them were lovely.”

“Holy shit”, Colby swore, sitting up in his bed. He looked through his notifications and saw a few texts from Mike, as well, from over an hour ago.

Mike – Dude

Mike – Brother

Mike – She messaged me

Mike – I asked her if she would ever be interested in recording together

Colby – She dm’d me too. I just woke up so I haven’t messaged her back yet. Did she answer you???

Colby started writing out his response to y/n. “You are so welcome! We were both blown away by the cover. You did an amazing job. I’m trying so hard not to fanboy right now, haha. I’m happy to hear that the Sam and Colby fans have been kind to you. I’d like to think we have the best fans ever.”

He quickly saw the little typing bubble pup up. “Haha, you don’t seem like the type to fanboy. And yes, I didn’t see a single mean comment.”

*incoming call – Dead Boy*

Colby picked up the phone “Miiiiiiiike!”

Mike laughed, “Holy shit. I just got off of FaceTime with Y/n.”

“WHAT?!” Colby’s voice cracked.

“Dude, she’s so cool. She seems totally down to come to LA.” Mike laughed at Colby’s reaction.

“This is crazy.” Colby said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “When is she going to visit?”

“She said she just needs to figure out where to stay.” Mike explained. “She wants to come down for like a month so we can write and she can work with a few other people. She talked to Kat too!”

“Did you tell her she could easily stay with one of us? We’ve got a few open rooms between our little group.” Colby asked.

“Of course, but she kept saying she couldn’t impose on us like that.” Mike replied. “I told her she wouldn’t be, but she insisted.”

“She wouldn’t be at all!” Colby agreed. “Dude, we have friends crash with us all the time!”

“I know, I know. I didn’t want to push it, though. Maybe she is just uncomfortable not having her own space.” Mike suggested.

“Maybe”, Colby replied. “Well keep me in the loop, man. This still seems so crazy.” He laughed.

“Of course, dude. I’ll catch you later.”

After saying their goodbyes, Colby reopened Y/n’s dm and started typing. “Believe me, Y/n, I have my fanboy moments, haha.”

He added another message before she could reply. “I just got off the phone with Mike! I’m stoked to hear you’re going to try to visit! I just wanted to make sure you know that you’re more than welcome to stay with one of us. I’ve got a whole spare bedroom set up and so does Kat. And there’s always room at Mike’s place, too. I totally get it if you’re just not comfortable because you don’t know us, but I wanted to let you know you wouldn’t be imposing on anyone. Promise.”

“Maybe I’ll get to witness one of these ‘fanboy’ moments myself, Brock.” Y/n replied. “And omg no! It’s not that I don’t trust you guys. Honestly, I’m excited to meet your whole group of friends. You guys seem so chill. I just won’t be traveling alone.”

Colby cocked his head a bit reading the last dm. “Oooh, are you visiting with your boyfriend or something?” He replied, mumbling “figures” to himself.

“LOL, that’s a big no.” she quickly replied.

“Thank god.” Colby said out loud, seeing the typing bubble pop back up.

“I have never posted this online, but I have a 2 and a half year-old daughter. Her dad will never be in our lives again for multiple reasons.” She wrote. “I couldn’t ask anyone to host both of us for that long. Being a single parent is work and I don’t want to interrupt someone else’s life that drastically.”

Colby’s eyes widened. “Whooaaa”, he said out loud, re-reading her last dm. After thinking about it for a few minutes, he still couldn’t really come up with any reasons why they couldn’t stay with him. He actually likes kids and kids tend to like him. “Damn, praise to you for doing it alone. I can’t imagine how much work it takes.” Colby typed back.

“Thanks, lol. It’s definitely work, but once you actually become a parent it’s just…worth it. Her name is Ivy and she’s my everything.” Y/n typed back.

Taking a deep breath, Colby started typing. “First, what a cute name. Second, at the risk of me sounding pushy, I’m going to offer you my spare bedroom again. I swear on my YouTube channel you won’t be imposing at all. I have this place to myself and I love kids. There could be toys and other kid stuff strewn all over the apartment and I promise, it’d be fine. You don’t have to decide now, but just think about it okay?”

Colby didn’t get a message back for a solid 5 minutes and he started to worry that he had overstepped. He let out a huge sigh of relief when he finally got her reply. “The kindness and hospitality you guys have already shown me has blown me away. I promise I’ll consider it. And thank you for going out of your way to make me feel welcome. I am very much looking forward to meeting you. <3”

“I’m glad to hear it. And ditto. I can’t wait to finally meet you. Honestly, y/n, your music is my go-to when I need to get out of my own head.” He replied.  “I have to go shower and get ready to film a video. Let me know what you decide!”

“Will do, Brock. <3.”

Over the next few weeks plans were made, friendships grew, late night talks were had….and finally, the day everyone had been waiting for was just around the corner.

“Okay, I’m in. As long as you’re sure you’re okay living with my crazy little girl for a while, I’ll start my road trip to LA this weekend.” Y/n said into the phone, watching her daughter eat an apple pancake while watching one of her favorite movies.

“Yessss” she heard Colby cheer into phone. “Have you talked to Mike and Kat yet?”

“Yeah, they know I’m heading down soon.” She replied. “Honestly, this couldn’t have come at a better time. I need a new adventure and I think we could both use some California sunshine.”

“Well, California is waiting for you. I know you’re driving here so you can bring whatever you need for Ivy but let me know if you need me to pick anything up.” He told her. “I made you a set of keys, I’ve removed anything dangerous from the bottom half of my apartment, I got those little clear plug things to make sure the outlets are safe, there’s a baby gate on the stairs….” Colby started rambling. He had been doing everything he could to baby proof his place.

“Colby!” Y/n laughed, interrupting his run-on sentence. “You are too good to me. I promise your place is fine as-is. Ivy has grown up around all of my recording equipment and she’s never once gotten hurt. If there’s anything I’m worried about, I promise I’ll tell you.”

“Sorry.” Colby laughed. “I think I’m just excited to meet both of you.”

Ivy squealed, laughing at her favorite part in the movie. “Well we’re both excited to meet you, too.”

Colby, Sam, Kat and Mike were all hanging out in Colby’s apartment, waiting for Y/n to arrive. Colby had just gotten a text from her saying she was getting off of the freeway.

“She’s only like 5 minutes away so I’m going to meet her down where I told her to park.” Colby said, slipping on his Vans.

“We probably shouldn’t all meet her down there, right?” Sam asked. “If I rolled up to a new place and a mob of people greeted me at my car door, I may not want to get out”, he laughed.

“She also doesn’t know we’re here.” Mike chuckled.

“I’ll go down alone and then I can text you guys to come down and help bring her stuff up. Does that work?” Colby asked, headed to his door.

“Sounds like a plan.” Kat replied. When Colby left the apartment, she turned to the two other boys. “He seem off to either of you?”

“He’s nervous.” Sam smiled, knowing Colby better than anyone else on the planet.

“He hasn’t talked about anything but y/n since she posted that cover.” Mike added. “I thought I was hella excited about this, but meeting her is a whole other thing to him.”

“Her music means a lot to him.” Sam explained. “Yeah, her covers are what she’s known for, but he loves her original stuff. When we lived together, I could always tell when Colby was anxious because I’d hear her music coming from his room.”

“Aww, that’s actually super sweet.” Kat gushed.

Downstairs, Colby was watching the gate. He knew she drove a black SUV and that she would pull in any minute. Finally spotting her, he waved her in and pointed towards the spot where she could park.

Climbing out of the driver’s seat, Y/n opened the back driver’s side door to check on Ivy. “Colby?” she called, peeking around the back.

“I’m here!” he laughed, walking towards Y/n with his arms open. “I’m glad you guys made it safe.” He said, pulling her into a long-awaited hug.

“Same.” She replied, wrapping her arms around him. “California drivers are crazy.” She chuckled.

“That is a fact.” He replied, looking into the car to see Ivy asleep in her car-seat. “She is freaken adorable.”

“Thanks.” Y/n smiled up at him. “She just fell asleep, too. I’m going to try not to wake her up.”

“Mike, Kat, and Sam are upstairs. I’ll text them to come down and help grab stuff. We can probably make it in one trip.” Colby said, texting Sam and telling them to head down. He sent another message saying that Ivy was asleep and that they shouldn’t yell.

“Oh, my god. I get to meet so many of you right away.” y/n said, unbuckling Ivy.

“We’re all a little excited.” Colby laughed. “Where is her playpen so I can grab that first. Then she’ll have a place to nap.”

“It’s that red thing right there”, she pointed, pulling Ivy to rest against her chest.

“Is it easy to set up or should I hold the little one while you use mom witchery to put it together?” Colby said, laughing.

“Actually, you may be on to something there. If you’re sure you’re okay holding Ivy, I’ll hand you her and her bag and I’ll grab the important stuff out of the back.” Y/n answered, turning so It would be easier to pass off Ivy.

“Of course I’m okay holding her.” Colby said, rubbing her back before moving her from Y/n’s chest to his. He gently swayed, hoping to keep her asleep.

The rest of the group walked out of the elevator and straight towards the SUV. “Awwww, Sam. Look at him holding the little girl.” Kat quietly spoke to her boyfriend.

“Yeah, I can’t lie. That shit is cute as fuck.” Mike giggled, looking at Sam and Kat.

Y/n turned towards the laughter and saw the group. She let out a quiet squeal and ran towards them. “This feels unreal.” She said, hugging them each. “I feel like I’ve talked to you guys nonstop for weeks and now I’m here and it’s just…Oh, my god.”

“Well we are so happy you made the trip.” Kat said, pulling her into another hug.

Colby walked towards them, cradling Ivy against his chest. “I’m going to head up with her if that’s okay, y/n?” He was rubbing soothing circles into Ivy’s back. “A car honked and startled her awake, but I think I got her to fall back asleep.”

“Aww, you’re a natural.” y/n smiled at him, leaning in to press a kiss to her daughter’s temple. “I’ll let them know what else needs to be brought up and we’ll meet you up there in a minute.”

Colby walked towards the elevators and the rest of them walked towards the SUV.

“There’s not too much other than the bags to bring up. I decided it was easier to buy a few things new than to try to break them down, pack them, and rebuild them.” Y/n said, grabbing things out of the back.

“I don’t blame you.” Kat replied, grabbing one of the bags. “I’ll go with you to pick up what you need from the store.”

“Thank you! That’s perfect. I’m going to need to pick up coffee on the way, too.” Y/n said, walking back to the front of the car and grabbing her handbag.

“There’s a coffee shop on every corner, here. Caffeine is a way of life.” Sam said, making sure they had grabbed everything y/n needed out of the car.

“There’s actually a huge baby/kids store like 2 miles up the road.” Mike added, closing the hatch to the SUV. When he turned around, everyone was staring at him wondering why he knew that. “Oh. Yeah. I pranked Aryia while he was on keto by replacing everything in our fridge with baby food”, he laughed.

“That makes a lot more sense.” Sam nodded.

When the group finally made it up to Colby’s apartment, Sam led the way in. They tried to stay as quiet as possible. “Colby?” Y/n whispered, looking to ask where the best place to set up the playpen was.

“His spare room is this way.” Kat led the line of people carrying bags. “Lets just put all of your stuff in here and you can sort it when you aren’t afraid to make noise.”

The boys set the bags they were carrying by the closet and left to find Colby. When Kat and Y/n walked out of the spare room, they saw Sam and Mike both taking pictures of something on the couch.

“Tell me that isn’t the cutest thing you’ve ever seen in your life.” Mike turned to the girls, showing them one of the pictures.

Colby had taken Ivy upstairs and laid down on the couch, hoping to keep the little girl asleep while they waited for y/n. Ivy was laying on his chest, one of his hands resting on her back, and Colby had fallen asleep. The two of them peacefully napping, tucked into the corner of the couch.

“Send me that one.” Y/n said, smiling down at the scene in front of her. “I was going to write a blog post about her and this trip at some point tonight and that picture is perfect for it.”

“He didn’t sleep at all last night, so I’m not surprised he fell asleep.” Sam chuckled.

“Well, I vote we leave the boys here and we make that run to the store.” Kat said, linking arms with Y/n.

“I don’t want to leave you guys to take care of her, though.” Y/n said, explaining her worry. “If she wakes up and gets fussy or something, I don’t want you guys to have to deal with that.”

“Y/n, she’s going to be fine. I’ve snuggled against that chest. It’s hella comfortable. She isn’t going to wake up.” Mike joked.

Sam laughed, “Also, we’ve all babysat before. I’ve passed diaper duty training AND I’m a whiz with snacks.”

“We’ll be 5 minutes away, max.” Kat added.

“This is all too easy. You guys are too nice.” Y/n felt her eyes water a bit. “I am not used to anyone caring this much.” She tried to wipe the tears away before they fell.

“Well get used to it.” Kat said, wrapping her arms around y/n. “Our group of friends has kind of adopted you guys at this point and you haven’t even met everyone.”

“Seriously.” Mike said, standing up and pulling y/n into a hug. “We’re all happy to have you guys here.”

The shopping trip was a success and the girls were headed back to the apartment. Colby woke up to the feeling of something in his hair. Ivy was snuggled between Colby and the back of the couch, her tiny fingers running through his blue hair. Colby looked over at the other couch to see Sam asleep and Mike holding his phone out, recording him.

Colby turned his head to look at Ivy and her fingers stopped moving for a second. She looked at his hair and mumbled out the word “blue.”

Colby couldn’t help but chuckle. “You are correct. And so so cute”, he smiled at the little girl.

She then took her pointer finger and ever so gently, put it under one of Colby’s eyes. She smiled and squealed out a higher pitched “blue!”

“I see a reoccurring theme here, kiddo.” He laughed, turning his head when he heard the door open.

“It’s official. I caught the cutest thing in the world on camera.” Mike yelled, waking up Sam. He sent Y/n the video in a text. “How do you not constantly record her?”

“Oh, god. She’s going to leave California with her own YouTube channel, isn’t she?” Y/n laughed, her and Kat taking the purchases to the spare bedroom.

With the 5 adults MOSTLY helping, the spare room and the few things spread around the apartment came together fairly quickly. As the evening was winding down, plans were made for the following days. A trip to the slap house, A lunch with Kat so that she could meet the rest of the girls, and of course…where this whole journey started. Pizza night. Everyone wanted y/n to get settled before they locked themselves in creative mode and started writing and working on music.

Sam and Kat headed off to Sam’s apartment and after Mike finished making plans with y/n, he headed off as well.

Colby and Ivy were both sprawled out on the couch watching a movie while Y/n unpacked all of their clothes into the spare bedroom closet. He looked over at Ivy, laughing when he saw her yawn for the hundredth time. “You sleepy, kiddo?” Ivy shook her head no, her eyes going back to the Tv. Big Hero 6 playing for the third time since she had woken up from her nap. Hearing a knock on his door, Colby yelled for whoever it was to come in.

“Everyone already leave?” Jake asked, Tara following him into the apartment.

“You just missed Mike. Sam and Kat left a while ago.” Colby replied.

Jake saw Ivy peek over the arm of couch at him and Tara. “Well aren’t you the cutest thing in the world”, he said, walking towards the living room.

Ivy giggled and climbed over Colby, hiding between him and the back of the couch. “I don’t know how she’s still awake.” Colby laughed, slipping his arms around the squirmy little girl. “Ivy this is Jake and Tara.”

Ivy waved, saying a little “hi” before her attention fell back on the television screen, her head falling against Colby’s chest.

“Y/n’s just unpacking stuff in there.” Colby pointed towards the spare bedroom.

Tara grabbed Jake’s hand, pulling him to follow her into the open door of the spare room. After introductions, Tara stayed to help with the unpacking and Jake went back out to chill with Colby and Ivy.

“How’s it going so far?” Jake quietly asked, sitting on the coffee table facing Colby.

“Terrifyingly easy.” Colby answered, looking down and finding Ivy fast asleep.

“Well that’s a good thing, right?”, Jake said. “Y/n seems to fit right in. Her and Tara are bonding over SpongeBob memes as we speak.”

“That’s the terrifying part.” Colby said, gently brushing Ivy’s hair out of her face. “They’re here for a month. They’ve only been here for like 7 hours and I’m already sad that they’re going to leave.”

Jake watched Colby gazing down at the tiny sleeping figure in his arms. “I don’t know, brother. You’re usually a loner that likes his space. You might be happy when you’ve got your apartment back”, Jake laughed.

Colby just sighed. *what the fuck am I getting myself into?* he thought to himself....................

part 2

part 3

#Colby Brock #Colby Brock x Reader #Colby Brock imagine #Colby Brock fic #Colby Brock fanfiction

[disinvited-guest]

3/8/2020 Detriot

This show had some wonderful waiting!  The weather was warm, and we never ran out of things to talk about.  At one point, we saw an older man come out to the front of the venue and attempt to take a picture of the marquee.  I didn’t think much of it at the time, but a few minutes after he left, Marty came out to the front of the venue, and crossed to the median of the street in order to take a picture of the marquee.  Later, I saw the man with the woman who’d been with Marty, so I’m guessing they were both relatives of his.  

The venue let us into the bar hours before doors, even checking ids and checking tickets ahead of time, so that when doors did open, we could go straight in.  this all worked wonderfully, although the guy checking ids was pretty insistent that mine was fake.  He asked me to tell him the address on the card, then for my license number, which I didn’t have any idea about.  He eventually scanned the card and let me in, but it was really stressful.

Being in the bar so early, we were able to hear soundcheck, although there was nothing surprising except a bit of With the Dark, which they didn’t end up playing at the show.  Once we got into the venue proper, we found ourselves along a security fence placed quite a ways from the stage, creating an aisle where security guards crossed continually throughout the show.  I found a space further to stage right than I usually do, hoping it would allow me to see across to the drum riser, even with the added distance, which unfortunately didn’t quite work.  It was a good angle to see most of the rest of the stage though.  Fresh didn’t have interesting socks on, but he did have his hair in pigtails and under a ballcap, which he later switched for an orange bandana, and John Brunette was wearing glasses before the show started.

Since the first set was the same Flood set as before , I am once again shortening the format for this set, and doing a full recap on the second set.

Marty had a snack during the first few songs of the set, which he had been doing for the last few shows, but at this show Danny was eating a bit as well.  He also put his pick in between the body and inlay of his bass to hold it while he ate.

There was a longer break-down during the instrumental part of They Might Be Giants than on the album, or than there had been the last few nights.

After messing up on We Want A Rock, Flans jokingly called a “band meeting” to discuss it, before greeting the audience and explaining the format of the show.  “The first set is all Flood, the second set has hardly any Flood.  Which will be better?” He then decided he wouldn’t be able to choose between the sets because “The sets are like our children.  They’re all NEGLECTED!”

There was a bit of an awkward pause after that pronouncement, causing Flans to joke “next slide please”  which he reused a few times throughout the show.  He then promised us that this show had no teleprompter, and told us about a show he had seen that used one “It was bad, but that didn't make the tickets any less expensive.”  Moving on, he asked Linnell “What did you- Did you get out today?”

Linnell explained that he had mostly slept, “We had a long day yesterday and a long trip here today,” and that everyone had been tired “I think we all lost consciousness at some point.”

Flans agreed, and demonstrated what it was like sleeping in a public place, his head leaned back and his mouth wide open, which both the audience and the guys onstage found hilarious.

Linnell then jumped in to assure us all that “We’re not completely straight-laced, but we’re not heroin addicts.”

Flans replied that there were only so many times you could deny that, saying he felt that “Saying you’re not a heroin addict is the sole domain of heroin addicts.”

Flans started out one verse of Your Racist Friend in a weird voice, but quickly realized it was unsustainable and dropped it a line in.  During Hearing Aid, Dan sang along with the keyboard (which was using the voice setting) briefly.

Before Stilloob Flans introduced the song by explaining that “Lots of bands like to look back, but very few actually look backwards.”  He explained what they were going to do, and attempted to ‘justify’ why they were doing it “When preparing we were looking for ways to make it interesting.  Not just for the audience but for us.”

Linnell chimed in to say that it took a lot to prepare for this song, and it takes a lot to perform it “and we’re making it look hard.”  He told us it wasn’t just musically difficult and compared it to eating a whole package of double stuf oreos, and how it seems like a really good idea.

Flans broke in, asking Linnell if he was”referring to the dedication it takes?”

“Yes!”  Linnell answered, “The dedication, the GUTS!”

After Letterbox, Flans commented that the songs just keep getting shorter.  The Johns then had a conversation about Harry Houdini.  They had heard he was from Detroit, and asked the crowd for confirmation.  The response was a bit ambivalent, with no clear cheer of yes like they were perhaps expecting.  Eventually, peering out at the crowd, Flans said ”Some people are nodding. They're just nodding yes.  He was from Detroit.”

A guy in the crowd shouted back at him “He’s still here!”

“He’s still here? Yes, he is still here,” Flans decided.  Linnell then asked us if we had felt that, implying the presence of Houdini’s ghost.  The lights did flicker the slightest bit when he said that, I’m guessing someone in the crew was being clever.

After Lucky Ball and Chain, Flans told us that on the album, that song had a fade out and that “Not many of our songs do.”  He added that he wasn’t sure why, but that they were “probably tied with acdc for the fewest songs with a fade out.”

This reminded him of a supercut he had heard of ACDC endings, which he explained to us by demonstrating a few on his guitar.  There was scattered applause and a sheepish Flans said quietly “That was three of them.” 

Linnell chimed in, to demonstrate a few ACDC endings he thought were probably there, first yelling “Ehhhh!” and then “Yeah!” into his mic.  The two then did one more ending together, with Flans adding his guitar to Linnell’s vocals.

An obviously amused Linnell told us to “Look for this on our next album,” with Flans adding that it would be called ‘Supercut.’

After the cheers and laughter died down, there was a beat, then Flans admitted “I don’t know what song is next.”

Rather than telling him, Linnell decided to give Flans hints, starting with the hilariously unhelpful “It’s off of Flood.”  Which earned him a laugh from the crowd and a harried look from Flans.  “I play a buzzer at the beginning of it,” Linnell continued.  Flans still was confused, so he went to check his own copy of the setlist.  While he was looking Linnell pointed out that a person in the crowd knew what they were playing next, because they had shouted it out.  He pointed over in the general direction of the person, a few rows back from the drum riser, and they shouted it out again.  Flans, returning to his mic, looked over and proclaimed “Oh look! It’s Mrs. Shut Up from shutthefuckup dot com! It’s good to see you, you don’t get out much.”  There was a moment of shocked silence, and I think even Flans was a bit taken aback, because he tried to soften the blow, saying something about a talkative crowd.

They started Hot Cha, but Flans came in a little late, which meant it was just Linnell singing for the first line or so.  Also, I keep forgetting to mention, Marty uses brushes for this song, which looks and sounds really neat.

Towards the end of the set, Linnell mentioned that they were still recovering from the travel and from the time change.  (Since they had moved from central to eastern time, it felt two hours earlier than it was.) He joked that he expected their dopplegangers to show up for the show in an hour. “Whooaaa!”

Flans chimed in to point out “Houdini did live here.”

They finished out the set before leaving us for a “20 minute break that lasts an hour.”  The crew got things set up for the Quiet Storm with no incidents, and it was soon time for the second set.

Godzilla was used for the intro music once again, and though Flans did a bit of his ‘creeping-onstage’ act from Chicago, he soon gave it up to bring his acoustic guitar over for Marty’s inspection.  The two looked at the guitar intensely for a few moments before Flans pointed to a specific spot on the body of the guitar, which Marty inspected briefly. 

Coming up to his mic, Flans mentioned jokingly that the line to the restroom had been short before they started into Music Jail.  During the instrumental bit after the ‘form a band/take a stand’ part of the song, Flans moved closer to Marty, who turned and used his mallets to play the drum part on the body of Flans’ guitar!  On top of being wildly interesting, it also sounded really cool!

Afterwards, Flans admitted “Marty and I have not done that move before in a public forum.”  And pointed out a guitar owner in the crowd who had looked pained at the guitar’s treatment.

Linnell decided that maybe he was a mallet owner, suggesting that he was really thinking they were “Wreaking those mallets man!” which cracked Marty up.

Marty counted off for the next song and both Johns were ready, but Marty was not and stopped them abruptly.  Looking over, Flans told Marty “I was there!” and Marty gestured towards himself, taking responsibility for the issue.  I think he had forgotten to change a setting on his kit, because he messed with it for a moment, then counted them off again to start 2082.

The projection the band uses during this part of the show includes lightning flashes.  This upset the security guards, who had told us all before the show that we couldn’t use flash-photography, and thought that someone was taking flash photos.  They actually came down the aisle to tell random people taking pictures to turn off their flash.

Flans introduced the next song, Wicked Little Critta, as “hostile and actively aggressive,” dedicating it to their friends and relations in New England.  Linnell claimed that they were deeply affectionate AND hostile, and that they could only express that affection with “mean feelings.”

Linnell flubbed a few lyrics during once verse of Wicked Little Critta, although he recovered quickly.  Finishing the song, they left the stage to the Underwater Woman video once again.  I’ll admit, I was a little tired of the video by this point.

They came back on stage part way through the last verse, and the crowd held off on cheering until the video was over.  This meant they stood onstage in silence for a few moments, which was very strange.  

Linnell acknowledged the cheers, when they did come, with the observation “We’re back again! We keep coming back!”  They played Wearing a Raincoat, during which Flans must have made a mistake, because afterwards, Linnell said the song had used a “new introduction” and that from now on they were going to do it like that.

Flans told him “I’m yelling at myself so hard right now.”  Linnell assured him that he had thought it was cool, but Flans just said “We’ll talk about it after the show.”

Moving on to introducing the next song, Flans told us it was from an album end of 2018 called My Murdered Remains “We did a lot of test-marketing on the title, and it turns out people are into hyper-violence.”

Linnell chimed in to say they had tested the title on “psychopathic focus-groups,”  then used a deep voice to imitate them saying “Yeah! Good name!”

“We went to a screening of Clockwork Orange,”  Flans decided, “and asked the audience afterward... what they thought would be a good name.  And they just blinked three times for ‘Yes!’”

This led, of course, into The Communists Have the Music, followed immediately by Let Me Tell You About My Operation, during which Danny came up beside the keyboard to watch Linnell play.  When Linnell caught him looking, he gave him a big smile.

Flans and Danny stood right next to each other for the intro to Older, which always looks incredibly cool with the symmetry of their instruments.  During the bridge, Dan climbed up onto the rather tall drum riser to stand behind Marty and to pose dramatically during the pauses, often with the neck of his guitar pointing up and across the stage.  This went perfectly with Marty’s super serious poses.  Linnell did a cool bit on his Kaoss pad during the bridge as well.

From there, they played the Mesopotamians, after which Linnell brought up his new keyboard stand.  He told us how long he’d had the old one and that he had started getting complaints and that he had “never felt wrong or bad until then.” He also told us the new one was a lot like the old one but it “has more stuff.”

“It has a sandwich,” Flans confided.

“There’s my math homework, but there’s also my lunch,” Linnell told us, adding that the jelly had soaked into the bread so that “the bread is turned blue on that side.  Which is fine.  I’m totally cool with that.”

“What we’re saying is stay in school kids,” Flans added.

He continued “We talk about healthcare a lot in this band.  But…”  he trailed off, then leaned into the mic “Next card on the teleprompter please.”  Then started immediately into All Time What.  The arrangement was different from 2018, with Linnell staying on keys, and Dan’s part covering the difference.  At one point, Dan was air-playing the keys a bit.

From there, they played Ana Ng, and then Damn Good Times.  There was an extra long pause between the chorus and second verse of Damn Good Times,  Flans had stepped away from the mic, then took tiny steps moving back up to it.  At the same time, Dan and Danny had what looked like a staring contest, which stopped when Flans began singing again.  When it was time for Dan’s blistering solo, Flans told us all to sway along.  At the speed needed, this moved quickly from difficult to nearly impossible, although some of the crowd hung on doggedly until the end.  Danny thought the whole thing was hilarious and watched with amusement as most people fell behind and dropped out.  They played New York City, going back to a part-rocking version this time.

Flans then told us “We’ve saved the best for now.  Join us in welcoming-ing,” he paused, and when he went on was obviously still amused at his own blunder. “Mr. Curt Ramm on the trumpet back to the stage.”  This meant, of course, that Curt was doing the intro to Istanbul, which was a nice switch up, even though I still would have loved another intro by Dan.  While Curt was amazing us all, Linnell wandered off stage left for a bit, and Danny sat down on the edge of Marty’s riser.  Istanbul was as high-energy as always, with Dan and Curt switching off for one ending, and Curt finishing it with a ridiculously high-note as always.

Dan and Marty left the stage after the song ended, while Flans told us they wanted to thank everyone in the audience individually, “Not every show is this fun for us.  We have emotional problems.”  He then introduced the last song of the evening as the opening song from Flood.

Linnell spoke over the crowd’s cheers with “just a note.”  “Apparently this song is the exact length of time that it takes for you to wash your hands.  So we encourage you to consider singing this next song rather than Happy Birthday the next time you wash your hands… Immediately after the show.”  They played Theme From Flood, then left the stage to enthusiastic cheers and applause.

As soon as they left, a bunch of security guards took up posts along the front of the stage.  It didn’t really obstruct the view at all, but I’m still a bit amused they thought these fans were going to cause trouble.

After a few minutes, they were back onstage.  Flans looked out over the crowd as he got on, holding up one hand and moving the other in a circle.  The crowd thought he was asking for more appreciation and increased their cheers.  After a few moments though Flans stopped the gesture and said, still looking to the back of the venue “That doesn’t mean anything to us.”  He did not sound pleased.  I think someone on venue staff must have been making that towards him in a “wrap it up” type gesture.  

Linnell said “You need an orange vest to do that,” although I’m not sure if he was talking to Flans or the person gesturing at them.

As the crowd started to quiet down, Flans told us they were ”having a conversation backstage about the nature of encores.” He explained that “Everything, including interpersonal relationships, is all just theatre.”

He then revealed that they time their encores, so that they don’t seem too nervous “At some point we realized we were basically walking offstage and turning around.”

Linnell added in a mock-desperate voice “Please don’t stop clapping! We’re insecure”

Flans continued, explaining that they time it to avoid looking like “the hambones that we are” but that they never take the time to explain why they do it.  Because of this, people assume it is “a weird make ‘em earn it thing.”  

He finished “But such is the nature of theatre ladies and gentlemen.  Your attentions may be beautiful, but their effects are horrible.”

He then realized he had no idea what the next song on the setlist was.  Linnell told him that the amazing thing was that their discussion “is the perfect segue into the song.”

Flans, halfway to look at his setlist, suddenly said “Oh! I remember! I remember.”

“Aggh!” Linnell replied, disappointed.

“I wrote the setlist,” Flans told us all, now back up at his mic. “Okay, here we go!”

They then launched into Fingertips, the beginning of which was marked by Dan gesturing wildly offstage making sure his mic was on. Flans did an exceptionally passionate boy band impresion for Heart Attack.  As always, the whole thing was wonderful in the way that only Fingertips can be.

Flans told us all “We gotta get outta here!”  Thanked us all for coming and for bringing our friends, then said “We know you have your choice of They MIght Be Giants-like bands, and we’d like to thank you for coming to our show, which we think of as the original show.”  They then played Doctor Worm.  Linnell didn’t change the settings on the keyboard for Dan this time around, and I think the keyboard setting they used was different because of it.  As they left the stage, Flans pretended to smash one of the security guys on the head with his guitar.

The cheers for the next encore were noticeably quieter than they had been for the first one.  I guess if people knew they weren’t coming out for a certain amount of time they were going to pace themselves.  

After the correct amount of time had passed, they all came back onstage, with Linnell commenting “Was that 60 seconds?  I feel that it was.”  Linnell then pointed out another feature of his keyboard stand, the rearview mirror.  “Marty has to look at me when we’re playing, in case I’m making faces.”

He then asked “You guys ready?”  This got a cheer from the crowd, which surprised Linnell.  “I...wasn’t talking to you, sorry.  That’s okay, we’ll start over.”

They then started the always beautiful End of the Tour, then went straight into The Guitar from there.  This performance had Flans using one Jim and one Dan, and an especially awesome-sounding Future of Sound.

They then left the stage for the evening.  I think it might have been due to venue policy, but they didn’t give out any stickers, although Marty came out and gave out setlists and his sticks and drumhead from the aisle between the stage and the security fence.  While I had another show, this was the end of the run for a lot of friends, so I said my goodbyes outside of the venue before heading back to the hotel.

#tmbg #recap

[justmiz]

Markiplier's “Sea of Thieves” Sentence Roleplay Starters.

Inbox me  “GIVE ME YER BOOTY”  for me to randomized a sentence for a starter, instead!

“I’m almost positive that every single person that’s ever played this game or made a video has probably committed to the pirate voice the whole way through.”

“Let’s set sail, lads!”

“Did you have a stroke!?”

“Why did you have a stroke in the middle of that sentence?”

“You’re hideous!”

“But I look good!~”

“You’re hideous... but I look good!~”

“We’re harmonizing so sweet right now.”

“Oh, would you fuckin’ stop throwing up on me!?”

“WAAAA--- who puked on me!?”

“Are we all getting drunk immediately?”

“Uhh, do you see this skull in the sky!?”

“This is rough... this is really rough...”

“SWEET JESUS.”

“I’m jumping into the water to wash this shit off.”

“I don’t think it works that way.”

“Ahh, that’s nice.~”

“This is how music works.”

“Isn’t that what it’s called?”

“You went to Music School?”

“You are my kind of woman/man.~”

“I’m a banana yanker.”

“What do I do with all of these bananas!?”

“Shove them in your face!”

“Can I shove them in other places?”

“That feels like a bad idea.”

“That feels like a bad idea ... hang on --- okay.”

“It’s fine. Don’t even worry about it.”

“I have a mustache now!”

“Am I gonna die? I feel like I’m gonna die...”

“OW! I’m fine.”

“Look at my thing!”

“Whooaaa --- this is so cool!”

“Uhhh... Deathless Death’s Death’s Death Canvas.”

“This is so scary! I don’t like this!”

“I looked down in the ocean; it’s just nothingness.”

“Don’t go on the very tippy edge of the front of the boat.”

“Is that like--- rule number one?”

“That’s probably a good first rule.”

“See, this is why you get locked in the brig.”

“How do I possibly climb a rope ladder with this fucking chest?”

“Sounds like musical farts.”

“I keep trying to stab!”

“Look how fucking beautiful that is!”

“I knew what it was, too...”

“I’ll make it my responsibility, I guess.”

“I was busy looking at clouds.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you...?”

“Right here in my pants is a banana!”

“Oh no! I was too late!”

“I was too late...”

“Is that a mermaid!?”

“I’m stupid, okay!?”

“I’ll stay.”

“I’ll go.”

“I’m an excellent... boat guy.”

“Oh my God, I just remembered how ugly I am..”

“They’re kind of a package deal.”

“Do you sense a dickishness in the force?”

“There’s a great dicksturbance in the force.”

“I think I’m emptying the ocean---”

“I think he’s/she’s/your onto something!”

“I’m onto something!”

“That was my fault.”

“It was working! You saw it was working!”

“Um... I didn’t know how this worked actually.”

“What song is that?”

“LET ME OUT!”

“To our dismay, we got no money from those.”

“All I see is... God?”

“I got an eyepatch~!”

“You spent all of our money!?”

“You know what? Good for you.”

“See over there? There’s a looooot of gold!”

“Is it buried?”

“Are you drunk again?”

“Why don’t we go and check it out?”

“I just tried to do something!”

“I got blasted off the boat!”

“I can’t see shit.”

“Well, if it’s between the shark and the island I’ll take the island, I guess.”

“There’s nothing here.”

“It was a great day out in the waters!”

“We didn’t make any money.”

“Aww, fuck yeah! This is my song!”

#rp meme #rp memes #roleplay meme #roleplay memes #markiplier #sentence starters #my memes

[everunbreakable]

Thursday, June 21, 2012 - Spirited Celebrations

Good morning, good evening, good day. Yesterday was a wonderful day. I’m so glad I was able to celebrate Santino’s graduation. I was complimented so often for the dress I chose that I spent most of the afternoon as a tomato.  Ronan looked rather dashing in his blue dress shirt, black vest, and tie. He arrived at my house past noon; I told him to park in my spot to avoid street sweeping. I had tried to wear a trench coat to put off unveiling my lace dress, but the scorching weather foiled such lighthearted attempts.  Ronan had cut his hair in the morning.  “You’re looking handsome,” I told him. We were off to Xyrad’s house; Xyrad was ironing and trying to get ready. Danny looked exhausted. Andre was happy to see me, saying, “My day just got happier, then.”  Xyrad had slicked his hair back. In his vest and slacks, he looked like some sort of baron or count. I thought it was a cool look. There was one snag – the matter of Xyrad’s tie. Ronan and Xyrad both tried to tie it; we ended up leaving before it looked anywhere near intact. Danny came down and joined us; he was dressed in more casual attire. It would be Danny that lent a hand to get Xyrad’s tie problem sorted out.  I handed Xyrad the camera as we walked over to our old high school; he turned out to be a natural photographer.  We sat on the bleachers, trying not to melt in the scorching sunshine. Ronan pulled me close for a picture with him. It took a while before any of us were able to spot Santino and Richy as the graduates assembled themselves on the field. I could tell from afar that Richy was doing his best to spot us. We yelled at him when he walked by after receiving his diploma.  No matter how heartily I yelled, I couldn’t get Santino’s attention; not only was he too far away, but he was walking in the opposite direction. He was not sitting with Richy or his martial arts classmates.  I had been searching, determinedly, for him for the first half of the ceremony. I had jumped when I heard the name Santino twice. Ronan had as well.  The whole thing was over in an hour and a half. Everyone proceeded to exit the stadium. I looked to the right near the tennis courts and somehow managed to look right into the face of Santino’s father. He hailed me, and invited me to come over to his house to celebrate Santino’s graduation.  “Bring all your friends, too,” he told me.  In a brief moment, I gazed over his shoulder and caught a girl’s eye. I instantly knew that this was Santino’s girlfriend, Amanda. I didn’t prolong the exchange, though; I turned back to Santino’s father and patted his arm, telling him I would meet him at his residence.  I turned back to walk with Ronan, who had hung back and observed our exchange in a subtle, reserved manner.  We spotted Matthew S., who I’ve known since elementary school, near us. I told Ronan what had happened.  “I saw his girlfriend staring at me,” I said.  “I know, I saw, too.”  “Did she look hostile?”  Ronan nodded. “Yep.”  We crossed the street to the library, where we tried our best to search for Richy and Santino. Danny branched off with Richy’s family; Ronan and I tried to find Santino, whose phone was busy. We ended up joining Richy’s family. Photos were snapped from all directions. I had been drinking in the beautiful, lively atmosphere since when we were on the bleachers. It was amazing to be in the midst of such joyous, genuine celebration. It was rare, and I couldn’t help but feel lifted as well… especially with the encouraging speech about never giving up, and reaching an end result worth all the effort. It was heartening.  We all took photos with Richy. I also took pictures with each person : Ronan, Xyrad, Richy, and Valerie.  I hooked arms with Ronan for our picture.   I did not manage to bump into Santino; his  family was heading home already.  Before parting ways, we told Richy that we would be heading to Santino’s for the celebratory dinner. Richy was off to eat with his family and Valerie; he said it was likely that he could join us later in the day. I wished him fun and safe times before heading back to the car with Ronan and Xyrad.  I had parked in a reserved spot, it turned out. My car had nearly been towed. Thankfully we were able to make it back before such a possibility could manifest itself as history.  I drove to Santino’s, taking Garden Grove Blvd, then Westminster. I beat his father by about five minutes.  Santino was waiting for us on his lawn.  “Hi, guys!” There it was, that toothy grin that had brought such light in my life during the first winter without my mother.  He was holding his arms out. Xyrad hugged Santino first.   I was next… Santino took one look at me and let out one of his jokingly high-pitched yelps as he grinned from ear to ear. I hardly ever wore dresses; this was the first time I ever dressed up around friends. He hugged me tight for a few seconds longer than anyone else. He hugged Ronan next.  We entered the house; some of Santino’s relatives were already there. I recognized one of the women; she had asked me countless questions at the mall over a year ago when I went out with Santino’s family.  We went into Santino’s room first; Santino handed us a poster and challenged us to find him on both the collage as well as the giant number twelve consisting of his entire graduating class. I was the one who found him on both sides.  Santino introduced me to Amanda (“This is Amanda, who I told you about…”), who was sitting at his desk chair. I shook hands with her. I ended up spending much of my time with Xyrad and Ronan. We ate in the backyard. Santino’s father checked in on us every so often.   Anthony T., Santino’s cousin who attends UC Irvine, introduced himself to us.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your names.”  He reminded me of Gendry, with his candid, analytical comments and characteristic chuckle.  Sophia, Santino’s little cousin, kept appearing and disappearing. She had taken to running into the yard to whisper something into Anthony’s ear, then scampering back inside again, giggling.  “She told me she thinks your dress is pretty,” Anthony told me.  “Oh, so that was one of the secrets,” I said, laughing.  “Yeah, I told her to tell you… but she ran away!”  Sophia returned again. This time I heard what she said to Anthony, while she pointed at me.  “You marry her!”  Anthony started chuckling. “That wouldn’t work, Sophia.”  “You marry my sister!” Sophia said. Okay, now it was getting weird.  “No, that’s weird!” Anthony protested, mirroring my thoughts.  I asked Ronan what the joke had been on Tuesday, before I entered the car, and Ricardo had been holding back a smile about.  “Oh.” Ronan swallowed his food. “He was saying, ‘Good thing Christy isn’t driving.’”  “That’s it? He’s told me that before.”  “I guess he was just being polite.” Ronan lightly shrugged.  “Polite? He doesn’t need to be polite; he needs to be real.” Just like Ronan. Santino told us that Crystal had arrived. Ronan and Santino suggested I go get her.  When Crystal saw me, she rushed over.  “Oh, Christy, that’s such a pretty dress!” She hugged me, tightly, but it was a brief one.  Entering the yard, she said hi to everyone.  “You look different,” Ronan commented.  “Do I?”  “It’s your hair cut.”  “Is it?”  “Yeah, you have bangs now.” Xyrad’s reaction when the ipod speaker played William Hung’s rendition of “YMCA” was hilarious.  I snapped more photos of everything. Ronan crossed his legs and placed his feet at the base of my chair as he perused his phone.  I took a photo of his handsomeness.  Santino and Daniel were taking photos on the former’s father’s fancy camera.  Talk of graduation came.  “I still can’t believe you graduated,” I said.  “I know, right?” Santino stepped onto the skateboard near me. “I still feel like a kid right now.”  “That’s good,” Ronan said.  We went out in front for a bit, when Richy and Valerie arrived.  Valerie questioned why it was that she never saw Crystal in the instances where she went to Santino’s house.  “She’s here now,” I said.  “You want to see her?” Ronan asked.  “I’m not sure I want to see her,” Valerie mused, her lips slightly parted as she appeared thoughtful.  “Why?” Ronan asked, slightly laughing now.  But there was no time to answer. We entered Santino’s room. Crystal exited her parents’ bedroom, where Sophia was playing.  She gasped when she saw Valerie, and rushed over to hug her. I intended my gaze away from the blatant artificiality of it all.  When Valerie and Crystal disappeared together, Ronan and I exchanged glances and spoke quietly about artificial pleasantries. When Valerie returned, I told her about the love-petting I had received on Tuesday evening in Irvine Spectrum from a complete stranger while his blonde companion looked on with interest. Richy and Valerie both felt that it was creepy.  Ronan did a demonstration of the love-petting on my head; I felt his fingertips graze my scalp… wait, he was using both hands… the darkness of his palms made me close my eyes for a second.  He withdrew his hands. Ronan and I stared at each other as everyone else looked on. I forgot who burst into laughter first – me or Ronan.  Either way, he was enjoying himself; I saw him slap his knee as he chuckled. Valerie and Richy were laughing as well.  “That was revenge for last night, wasn’t it?” I asked playfully, after I finished laughing.  “Yes,” Ronan said. “Because I couldn’t get you. And I was jealous! I was jealous… because he petted you and not me.”  I knew that was only a joke, but I went along with it anyway.  “You did it better than he did anyway,” I told Ronan.  He raised a brow as he smirked at me. Valerie, who was at the door, smiled at our exchange.  “You’re welcome to pet me,” I coyly told Valerie, as a joke.  “Okay, come here!” she giggled.  “Whooaaa,” Ronan said, smiling.  “I can’t help it,” I said. Then, seeing an opportunity to make a joke, I went on, “My dam burst.”  My eyes were on the ground; I raised my head when I heard them laughing.  “What?” Valerie yelped, giggling.  “What does that mean?” Ronan asked, looking both bewildered and wildly amused. He then turned to Richy, who was leaning against the wall near the closet. “You look like you know how to translate that. What dam burst?”  I laughed heartily.  We all started signing Santino’s yearbook, with me writing the most. I felt like I hadn’t even come close to pouring my heart out, though. As it was, I didn’t want to be too cheesy. Amanda had already gone home… in the back of my mind I wondered if the whole thing had been awkward for her.  Crystal came back and asked if we wanted to go somewhere, like a place she termed The Lab.  She commented that she did not like Daniel’s hair. That was a bit rough.  Santino’s mother knocked on the door and asked if he wanted to cut the cake.  And so we trooped out and watched as Santino put on his red gown and cap, and unearthed his diploma.  His short speech before cutting the cake was sweet. He glanced at me when he thanked his friends for being there for him when he needed help. I felt a stir of companionable affection in my heart as I met his eyes.  Santino made quite a show out of cutting the two cakes, making everyone laugh with his antics.  The cake itself was delicious. I did not try the chocolate one.  Santino’s father ushered us into the living room, so that Santino could have a group picture with us.  “The two girls should sit in front, with Santino,” his father suggested.  “Ohhhhh,” Ronan said, while Xyrad and Richy grinned.  “Play-uhhh,” Xyrad chimed in.  Santino was grinning as Valerie and I sat on either side of him on the couch, the three other gentlemen standing directly behind us. He placed his arms around our shoulders for the shots. His father took a couple shots from my camera as well, on my request.  “You can’t have one eye,” his father told Santino. “You have to show both eyes!”  Santino smoothed his fringe from his face as everyone laughed.  I rose from the couch after the shots; Santino migrated to the door where his relatives each bade him good-bye and further congratulated him before departing.  Xyrad, Richy, and Valerie now occupied the three-seater. Ronan sat in a white stool behind them. I stood by them, chit-chatting. Ronan offered me half of the stool, and so we shared a seat and drank in the lively atmosphere in the midst of Santino’s celebratory banquet.  Santino sang along to classical music/opera. Sophia decided to duck under the hem of his gown and rise inside it. Ronan started laughing, I knew, because the whole scene looked sexual.  “I just thought of Austin Powers,” he said in between chortles and knee slaps. Santino was guffawing as well.  “You shouldn’t do that, Sophia,” Crystal said calmly.  Sophia was still giggling madly after Santino took the gown off her. I admired how gentle and natural he was with children. More shots were taken on my camera as well as Ronan’s camera. We flanked Santino for several shots before Santino suggested that Richy join, since they were both graduates.  The four of us were standing so stiffly that I threw my arms around Ronan and Santino. I knew most of us were tired. Ronan threw an arm around the area above my waist. We were practically falling on Santino in one of the shots. Richy was leaning towards the center as well.  After Santino’s extended family went home, Mr. Nguyen downloaded ‘The Avengers’ for us to watch. It was a cam; we could hear the audience laughing and munching on popcorn.  We started assembling the furniture in a circle. Somehow I ended up on the three-seater between Richy and Ronan.  Ronan spoke quietly to me, mirroring my thoughts. “Shouldn’t we be sitting over there?”  Valerie and Richy were separate again.  “I think so, too,” I whispered back, bending down as if to look at the floor and admire the tiles as Crystal swept it.  “He always does this,” Ronan murmured.  Crystal, who was sweeping on Ronan’s right, bent down and asked us, looking concerned, “What is it?”  “I should take off my shoes,” I said; it was the first thing that came to my mind.  Crystal furrowed her brows, shaking her head. “No, it’s fine.”  Ronan looked up at her, his face stony as he continued what I started. “You sure? It’s an Asian house.”  I quietly realized that I had learned how to deflect when needed from Ronan. Richy migrated to the small couch between Santino and Valerie’s two-seater, while Xyrad joined us on Ronan’s right side. I was nearest to the television. 

Ronan and Xyrad each drew something in Santino’s yearbook. I drew a snow globe with a pawprint-adorned heart, with a thought bubble detailing a tree with a quote, “Don’t make me hug you!” This was a reference to my first encounter with Santino. He had been so young, then… and timid, uncomfortable, shaken up… I was so proud of the progress he’d made, the growth he had spanned. It had been nearly four years ago that we met, and yet it felt like a long time ago. He and I grew closer in the days following my mother’s death.  Santino fell asleep around eleven. Ronan and I snapped pictures of him. My flash was the brightest. Xyrad looked over to see how the shot had turned out; he burst into spastic laughter.  Valerie left before midnight with Richy, who seemed like he wanted to hang back.  He came over and put his arms around me and Ronan.  “Thanks for the presents, guys,” he said, holding us close. We reciprocated this gesture of physical affection. It had been a pleasant, heartfelt day.  “Have fun at summer camp!” Xyrad called to him when Richy was at the screen door.  “I will.”  “When are you going?” Ronan asked.  “End of July, for about a week.”  “Oh, okay.”  Xyrad turned and muttered to Ronan, “I didn’t even know he was going to summer camp; I was just saying…”  Ronan and I burst into laughter.  “You’re his cousin!” Ronan said. “You guys don’t talk.”  “You guys need to talk,” I said.  Santino’s father came out in his pajamas and told me there was more food in the fridge if I or any of the others felt hungry. I thanked him.  After the movie ended, the four of us returned to Santino’s room, where he opened his presents from me and Ronan.  He chuckled softly when he read what I wrote on the tag.  He looked at me, eyes both soft and bright. “Thanks.”  I could tell Santino liked the shirt I had picked out for him over a year ago; he stared at it, marveling in the detail. Ronan commented that it looked “awesome.”  Santino raised it to his face and sniffed it along a considerable length before exhaling, relaxed.  “Santino, it doesn’t smell like me this time,” I said gently, laughing.  “It’s okay,” Santino said softly.  Something Steven had told me bolted through the back of my mind. Scent is closest to memory… even Ronan had agreed to that once.  I admired Ronan’s gifts for Santino. The green ninja star was particularly creative, as was the chain-bouquet of Milkita candy in the green bowl Ronan had purchased at Daizo when we’d gone there on Tuesday.  “Dang, how long did this take you?” Santino asked him, his fingers tracing over the candy chain.  “Five minutes,” Ronan replied.  “Five minutes or five hours?”  “I dunno… I lost track of time.”  Creation for Santino. It was perfect, fitting. Ronan had put significant thought into this.  “Hugs, guys?” Santino stood up, his arms out towards us.  I raised my arms and approached him; he made a movement as if to hug just me, then realized that Ronan and Xyrad were going in for it, too. We all had a group hug to end the night.  My hand lingered on Santino’s shoulder.  “Take care,” I told him, softly.  He looked at me, but I don’t remember if he said something to reply.  I knew that Santino often had a difficult time verbalizing these things. I understood.  Ronan looked on in silence. The night had turned into the more ungodly hours of morning that most healthy people should not see.  Santino followed behind us to the front door.  He seemed like he wanted another hug.  Instead, he looked at each one of us as he bade us individual good-byes.  “Thank you so much, guys,” he said.  “You’re a million times welcome,” I said.  The night awaited us.    I clicked to unlock the car as we were approaching it.  “My eyes!” Ronan exclaimed as the headlights blinked at us.  “Why, Christy, why?” Xyrad yelped jokingly.  I laughed. “Sorry, guys.”  I turned on the ignition. Ronan, sitting in shotgun, switched on the heater.  “Heater for your feet,” he said to me, since he knew I took my shoes off for driving. It wasn’t nearly as painful as he deemed it to be.  Ronan defrosted my back window for me as we sat in my car, the skies too bright to be called dark, and yet too dark to be deemed relevant to early morning.  I drove for a while, with the music playing from my ipod. Ronan had not brought his along because his pockets were too small.  “So what’d you think of today?” I asked him.  “Fun,” Ronan replied. “I liked it.” He finished with a note of boyish enthusiasm that I was content to hear.  Amanda had not spoken to me much, save for the moment when I asked her about her school. She seemed to respond more to Ronan, laughing at his quips and manner of spinning ghost stories. I was not particularly surprised by this, as he often inadvertently charmed girls with his mysterious ways. I’m the first who has managed to “crack the code,” as he puts it. Santino and Richy… are now graduates. I can still hardly believe it. The last of our good friends to graduate high school. Now everyone will be in college. I am pretty stoked for them, and for us.  “Too hot?” Ronan looked over at me as I drove.  There he was again, reading my mind before I even realized how I felt. He switched the heater to a lower mode.  Driving on empty streets was meditative and relaxing.  Dropped Xyrad off at his apartment complex. He hugged Ronan from behind, then me.  “Dude, my boobs!” I said loudly. He had wrapped his arms around my chest.  Ronan laughed, glancing over at me.  “Your boobs will live,” Xyrad said.  We bade him bye before I reversed and u-turned. Ronan gazed back at the parking space where I had nearly been towed, making clear his intention to memorize the license plate number of whoever tattled/made my parking a big deal.  “Xyrad lied,” Ronan said; he was talking about when Xyrad had told me it should be okay to park in that area.  “He doesn’t socialize with his neighbors,” I said. “That’s why.”  “Say Something” by Younha had transitioned to “Kiss Kiss” by Kim Hyun Joong, a relaxing R&B song.  Ronan had parked in my spot in the afternoon so that he would not get a street sweeping ticket.  “I’ll move my car,” he said, gathering his things. He looked about, and even in the compartment where I kept my GPS and lotion.  I reached over to hug him, albeit with only one arm. It was getting late, and I was tired. “Good-night,” he told me, gazing over at me as he reached over with his hand.  Wait a minute, I thought, as I held his gaze.  He briefly ran a palm down the back of my head, but moved quickly away when I reacted and reached towards him. He bounded out of my car.  “I’ll – spank – you – “ I made to swat him, but to no avail. He had already petted me in Santino’s room. We were way past even. Ronan hurried over to his car, laughing heartily. I liked seeing this impish Ronan, though.  I’ll tell Ricardo to get you, Ronan had told me earlier.  Ronan drove by me after u-turning. I rolled down the windows.  He was clapping, laughing heartily. He was enjoying himself, which was a wonderful sight. All the same -   “I’LL GET YOU!” I shrieked.  Ronan chuckled some more, his eyes alight. “Bye.”  “Bye.”  It was an amusing close to another phenomenal day, colored with pleasant vibes and come-of-age moments.  Somehow I was reminded, once again, that life comes full circle. In high school, Ronan was my closest friend, one of the few people I can completely be myself around. I’m thankful for the progress we have made, growing individually but not growing apart. He’s helped me carry on and lay down my fears.

It was a privilege being part of a celebration. I was proud in the moments where Santino and Richy were both donning their red graduation gowns, and the feeling was only nourished by the small speech Santino gave just before cutting the cake. I could feel a new beginning approaching, for us all. 

#2012 #June #Ronan #Santino #Xyrad #Graduation #Celebration

[supernatural-idjit-95]

The Curses We Utter, Pt. 8

“Juggernaut”

Series Masterlist

Summary: This starts off BEFORE the scene of the 'fast forward' I previewed in the last portion of Part 7! Also, a certain character is singing in this (hehe) so I will indicate that dialogue with asterisks :-)

Word Count: 7446

Notes: THANKS SO MUCH YAY I'M EXCITED!!!

Warnings: Violence, character death(ish), cursing, smut, extreme/adult situations…

****

Much was being planned over a couple pots of coffee that morning, you all knew you were going to need it. You and Dean were going to work on warding the dungeon, while Sam and Rowena worked out a new and improved spell to summon a Prince of Hell. It had to precise; as Rowena had suggested using your blood, you were hoping to god it'd work the way you needed it to. In most cases, the recipient being summoned could appear at anytime afterward, and anywhere…that was a risk you couldn't afford to take, not with the kind of power Asmodeus held. You sat next to Cas, who was beside Crowley at the table. Sam had taken Dean to the library with he and Rowena, to ensure he knew exactly what was needed (and how to paint them out exactly, Sam had said). Toying with the hem of your black t-shirt, you realized the v-neck cut showed more cleavage than you liked- especially on a day like this. Castiel sighed next to you. He had been quiet all morning, and you wondered if you should re-think your approach to meeting your Father. "You okay?" You questioned him. He pressed his lips into a flat line, but his eyes remained loving and friendly on you. "Yes, I'm…uncertain, that's all. You're sure you want to go through with this?" You nodded. "Yeah…I am. It's the only plan we've got right? Either we talk him out of hunting me down for the rest of my life, or-" Crowley's salty words cut you off. "-and convincing him to keep his bloody paws off my throne!!" His voice carried far in the room, but it didn't alarm you- all of you were used to his insulting outbursts. You rolled your eyes, giving a groaning response to him. "Ugh! Yes, Crowley! We will attempt to talk him out of my taking your filthy fucking throne!" You spat him a look of disgust around Cas, who sat back in his chair allowing you to with pleasure. "Anyways…as I was saying: It's either this, or…letting him find me outside of the bunker…" You let words trails off. Castiel folded his hands in front of him. "I've gone over it again and again in my mind. I'd like to say Crowley's right, that this isn't a fool-proof plan…but the latter…" He paused in thought and stared down. "…You can't stay down in this bunker forever. I know that. So as I've said before- I've got your back." He reached over to you, placing one of his hands on top of yours like he had just a couple nights before. It was comforting even though he was always cold. As his blue eyes bore into you, you realized he always seemed to look at you a certain way, like he knew something you didn't. His gazes were always filled with wisdom, respect, …or maybe it was love? Understanding the Angel wasn't important to you, though; all that mattered was he was there. "Spare me the theatrics, you dim-wits!" Crowley's gravelly voice broke through the air, making Cas grit his teeth in anger. Castiel stood from his chair quietly, turning to Crowley. His head leaned back to look up at the Angel towering over him dominantly. Cas's lip curled down at him. "Speak another word, and I'll feed you to Asmodeus like a piece of meat to a wild dog." He threatened, and his low snarl sent a visible shudder through both yourself, and Crowley. 'Get 'em, tiger!' Right on time, Dean, Sam and Rowena re-entered the room. 'Thank god!' You thought. "Are we almost set?" You asked, rising from your seat. Rowena happily but nervously nodded to you. "Yes, just the actual warding itself is left." You smiled at her thankfully as a thought pressed your mind. "Rowena, if you wanna go while we do this, I won't blame you. This isn't exactly safe…" You told her. It was the right thing to do, whether Asmodeus was your Father or not, he was still a Prince of Hell; and very powerful. Shuffling over to you gracefully as her heels clicked, she pressed her red lips into an affectionate smile. "My dear…I've always got a trick up my sleeve. And I've not been a very, how do you say it…scrupulous person, for most of my life. I'll be here, no matter what." She tossed one of her red curls over her shoulder and shrugged excitedly. "Besides…Prince of Hell and what-not…maybe he needs a Queen?" Rowena purred in laughter as Crowley made some god-awful gagging noise behind you. Grinning at her light words, you nodded a thank you to her. Dean stood behind Rowena, holding up pages you assumed were the sigils and symbols Sam and Rowena sketched out for you both. You nodded to him as well. "Ready?" He tilted his head to the side, gesturing for you to follow him. On your way past Sam, he patted you on the shoulder and said, "See ya in a bit." * Dean and yourself were almost done in the dungeon. The holy oil had been poured in overlapping circles all over the floor, just in case he didn't end up where you needed him. At first you thought it looked a little ridiculous, but then figured you couldn't be too careful. It was getting exhausting having to keep mentally reminding yourself that Asmodeus was your Father; as Crowley told you so anyways. It made sense to you though, how your eyes were yellow when you really focused on your energy, or when you were emotional…nonetheless, it still scared the shit out of you. "I'm almost done Dean." You glanced over your shoulder as you shook your red spray paint can vigorously, seeing him gathering up the four empty cans you'd already gone through. He had shed his flannel halfway through warding the east wall, and you couldn't help looking at him every time he turned around. You knew you should be concentrating on the task at hand, but watching his muscles ripple through his t-shirt made your heart race in ways you shouldn't divulge. "You should take your shirt off so you don't get paint all over it." You smirked wildly at your shrewdness as you finished up on the wall in front of you. You were glad you'd spoken it low enough to give yourself a 50-50 chance that he'd hear it. "Whooaaa easy there tiger…" You heard him drop his can, and then felt his hands wrapping around your stomach. You leaned back into him, exhausted from your 'extracurricular' activities the night before. Dean stood with you in his arms silent for a moment, then bent down to kiss your neck. "We need to get started." His breath against your ear made you wish you could hit the pause button, just for a couple hours. "I know…are you still with me on this?" You asked, lacing your fingers through his on your side. "A hundred percent, princess." * The lot of you stood in the dungeon surrounding Rowena and Sam as they prepared to summon your Father. A stone bowl sat on a stool in front of the two of them, Rowena tossing in ingredients and herbs flamboyantly, and Sam performing the incantation flawlessly as expected (you secretly nicknamed him Hermione Granger). Crowley stood between you and Cas, and Dean was by your side. Cas gave you a nod, and Dean had given you one of his confidence boosting pep talks moments before. "(Y/n)…" Crowley nearly whispered at your side, leaning toward you. The handcuffs still bound him, and he was in the dungeon with you for no other than reason than knowing he didn't want to be. You clenched your jaw. "What?" You growled back. "There's still time to stop this. You don't know what'll happen…this has 'bad moon rising' written all over it." Crowley warned. You saw his eyes were sincere, and his tone was grave and almost sobering. "Crowley…I'll kill you myself if you say another word." You replied to his grievous monition, paying it no heed. 'He asked me for help, and he's getting it. End of story.' Rowena motioned over to you, jolting you out of your blank stare at the bowl. "We're ready, (y/n)." You went to her side, presenting her the palm of your hand. As promised, she and Sam found a way to link your blood to the spell; hopefully ensuring Asmodeus would be compelled to come to your precise location, and nowhere else in the bunker. You nodded to her as she presented her familiarly old, but ridiculously sharp (you knew from experience) dagger, slicing it across your hand quickly. Wincing a bit at the sting, you stretched your hand out over the bowl letting it trickle down into it. "Now, Samuel." Rowena ordered Sam to conclude, and he chanted something else you couldn't begin to fathom. The bowl lit brilliantly with sparks that shot out around it, leaving a small feeble flame in it's place. Dean moved forward beside you as every person in the dungeon held their breath in suspense. He grabbed your other hand and squeezed it hard in reassurance. Your eyes were glued to the empty space before you, awaiting to see a Prince of Hell appear at any second. Your palms were sweating, and you grasped Dean's hand tighter the longer the wait progressed. Sam shot you a confused look, and you wondered if the summoning spell worked at all; when suddenly, the sound of feet hitting the floor sounded. And there he was. A man stood before you all, right where you hoped he'd be. He was tall and lean, looked to be in his mid-40's, wearing a modern-cut suit, all in black. His shoes shone so bright they were almost the first thing you noticed. Thick, dark blonde hair was styled slicked back against his head, matching his short-trimmed facial hair. "I'd ask to whom I owe the pleasure, but…I already know who you are." He stayed put as no one dared to speak a word, and he flashed an endearing grin at you with blinding white teeth; he was speaking to you, and you only. You were so enamored by his presence, you almost forgot… You took a quick stride forward, presenting your lighter. Lighting it quickly, you tossed it to the floor just in front your feet. Asmodeus chuckled to himself, and watched as the Holy Oil surrounding him came to life. The flames moved swiftly around the rings, igniting nearly the entire dungeon floor with colossal holy fire. It was up to you now. Asmodeus rose his gaze from the flames, his features illuminating in an orange-yellow glow. His eyes fell on you, and much to your relief, they seemed kind for the most part. "Pumpkin…I'm glad you found me." He said with a deep masculine voice, smiling gently with his bright green eyes. You shrank a little when he spoke. "Are you Asmodeus, the-" He interrupted you. "-the Prince of Hell, God of Lust himself? Yes precious, I am…and I've been dying to meet you." His honeyed voice was dripping with ego, and you reminded yourself not to say anything you usually would have. You shifted your stance. "Look, not to be straightforward and sound all cliche', but…are you my father?" You forced the words out of you like an exorcism. "And who told you that, might I ask?" He replied, his modern English accent precise. You cleared your throat and didn't dare to look at Crowley. If Asmodeus had common sense, after a quick 'eeny-meeny-miny-mo' he would figure it out himself, but you didn't want to chance it. Before you could think of what to say however, he answered for you. "Ahh. The cockroach crawled out of his pit…" He shifted his eyes to Crowley, who straightened his posture immediately. "So is it true?" You said boldly, attempting to regain his attention, while sensing Dean flinch behind you. It worked, and he refocused his gaze to you. "It's true. But that's not the only reason you called me, is it?" He knowingly raised an eyebrow at you, a smirk forming with it. "No, it's not…but I want to ask you something before we get to that…" You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, crossing your arms over your mid-section. The flames still licked at the air, the glow of them lighting your face eerily as you stood so close to them. "…Why haven't you tried contacting me, before this? All those years after my Mom…I-I've just wondered about you my whole life. It would've been nice knowing you were there…" Your voice was timid, your form sheepish as your shoulders sunk at your own words. Your Father locked his eyes on yours, his demeanor shifting from charismatic to intimidating in just moments. "Oh, please. Don't even start on the 'absent father' bullshit with me!" He was fuming, causing Dean to move closer to you, as you jumped at his sudden outburst. You remained silent, deciding to let him throw his temper tantrum and not get in the way. Asmodeus ran his hand through his thick blonde hair, ruffling the style just a bit. He shook his head at you, then continued. "You didn't need me…you've never needed anyone. And that is what makes you dangerous, (Y/n). When I met your whore of a mother-" "-Don't talk about her like that!" You cut his words off, barking yours back at him. He rose his hands in the air, palms facing you to signify he'd restrain his insults. Flashing his green eyes at you, he opened his mouth again. "When I met your…'dear mother'…I could feel you in my loins, I could taste the power we would share! And now that you're of age, a woman, we can reclaim our rightful place-" "-In Hell?" You were blinking back tears as your said the words. This wasn't going the way you'd hoped… You quickly raked the tears away, remembering literally everyone you cared about was watching you right now; you didn't want to be weak…again. Your Father nodded at you, a devilish grin splaying out on his lips. "Yes darling, Hell. It's ours for the taking…" He glanced at Crowley, who shrank back, then returned his cold eyes to you. "You know, when I heard you were seen with Crowley, I was hopeful for you; not that he would be my top pick for you…I mean being a woman with your power, you could have any man or woman you wanted. In Hell, that is." He paused, earning a disgusted look from just about everyone in the room, not including Crowley- who glanced at you just long enough to send you a perverted wink. 'Ohhh gross.' Asmodeus looked at Castiel and Sam briefly, then to Dean, eyeing him up and down as he ground his teeth. "But, as rumors prove true, you've chosen the Winchesters! Over everyone else in the world…you found them." His eyes narrowed on Dean, who wasn't frightened in the least- he ate scumbags like him for breakfast. And that's how you saw your own father now…a scumbag. Dean rose his hand, pouting his lips with sarcasm as if asking to speak. "Actually, uh, we found her. Yeah, we rescued her from the demons you ordered to torture her." He finished with a smug smile, puffing his chest out a bit. He placed his hand on the small of your back to show support. Asmodeus glowered at Dean, his upper lip curling angrily. "No, you deflowered her, Winchester!" 'Fuck.' You half-expected Dean to pull away from you then, but instead he stood his ground. The room fell silent for a moment, except for the crackling of the fire and flames feeding on the Holy Oil. Dean tightened his grip around the back of your waist. "Yeah, well…I love her. And she loves me too. Besides, you weren't exactly around for me to ask your permission…" Your heart fluttered hearing Dean say that out loud, not only to your father, but in front of everyone else. You stood taller, showing affirmation to Dean's words. Asmodeus lifted his chin threateningly. "Boy, I will skin you alive where you stand-" You roared at him, taking a step closer to the flames. "Stop! Please, Dad- Asmodeus, whatever the hell I'm supposed to call you- I'm not going with you. I have a life here, people I love. And if you ever cared about me at all, you'll let me be." Cocking his head to one side, he looked like he was weighing your statement in his head. "I made you, doll. You belong to me. You're the 'Hammer to my Thor', (Y/n)! You're alive for one purpose; you…are…a…weapon." Your pulse quickened, and your chest rose and fell heavily with rage. "Fuck you." Asmodeus rolled his eyes with amusement, mocking you. "(Y/n)…you have a throne waiting for you! Armies upon armies of Demons and monsters at your fingertips…and you'll throw it all way… for this? For them?..." He grew angrier, taking a step closer to the flames. "...For a hunter with a rotting liver? The best he has to offer you is a weak, unfulfilled life. Maybe you'll have a couple of brats along the way; but you will perish, dear. You'll be stashed away in this bunker for the rest of your life." Your Father's words stung, taking your breath away as he spat them in your face. 'Looks like I don't need to worry about Father's Day after all.' "I'll make this easy for you- come with me, and I'll let your friends and your boy toy live. If you don't… I'll kill every last one of them; starting with the Witch, then the Angel…and I'll finish with you." You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling Dean's arm on you tighten further. "So what's it gonna be…your Father, or them?" He questioned. Glancing up to Dean, you saw the sternness on his face, but his eyes were begging you to stand your ground. He made you promise him before all this, that you wouldn't take a deal from him if things went awry; that you'd stand up for yourself, for both of you. You reminded yourself of the warding and holy fire surrounding Asmodeus; he can't hurt you here, not right now at least. You met your father's hard, calculating gaze, and answered him. "I don't have a Father." The Prince of Hell ran his tongue over his teeth, shaking his head furiously; he looked like he was going to implode. He stared you down one more time, clenching and unclenching his fists insidiously. "So be it." Asmodeus's words had just left his lips when you all braced for whatever was about to happen. Drawing in an enormous breath, he rose his right hand in the air, fingers expertly poised… SNAP. With a snap of his fingers, the Holy Fire surrounding him extinguished all at once. Utterly pleased with himself, he surveyed the flameless ground around him, then looked up to you with sinister enthusiasm. "What…no applause?" He grinned at you all, advancing toward you with a couple of steps. Every one of your stayed quiet and frozen in place; you had no backup plan, nothing. You looked at Dean out of the corner of your eye, his jaw clenched, ready to attack. He swept in front of you, holding you back behind him with his right arm. Beside you, Rowena caught your eye. Her expression was dismal, but she gave you a sad smile, as if she was saying 'We tried our best' in defeat. Castiel and Sam stood on the other side of Rowena, wearing the same 'we're shit out of luck' expressions as she was. "Well, this has been fun…but I have promises to keep." Asmodeus spoke, focusing his attention to Rowena. She stood firm against his intimidation. As you realized what he was about to do, your heart jumped in your throat. You tried to move, but Dean held you behind him. "No!" Asmodeus rose his arm again quickly and flicked his wrist, snapping Rowena's neck instantaneously with a resounding 'crack', sending her limp body to the floor. You closed your eyes, knowing she was dead. 'What have I done?!' "Please stop! I'll go! I'll go!!" You scream at him, shoving Dean as hard as you could toward Sam and Cas. You weren't about to see all of the people you cared about slaughtered because of you. You'd find some other way. Asmodeus chuckled, standing feet from you now. "Sweet, sweet child of mine…the time for bargaining is over." His expression fell solemn, turning to the wards and sigils on the walls. "Those can't hold me, just to let you know…now, where's the Angel…?" You couldn't catch your breath, stammering, your thoughts running wild. You closed your eyes quickly, trying to regain the focus you needed to use your inner strength. You imagined what you did to the punching bag; only replacing it with the son of a bitch about to kill your friends. Opening your eyes, you knew they were yellow by the way your father looked at you. First he was surprised, then he seemed impressed. "You can try, dear-" Your right arm lashed out, hurling him to the back of the room and colliding with the wall. Your head was spinning…it took a lot out of you. You keeled over, leaning on your knees for support as Dean rushed to your side to help you straighten. Your Father was eliciting groans and curses under his breath as he stood again, stomping toward you with fury. Trying to push Dean away, he didn't budge. "Go!! Get them out of here!" You ordered, gesturing to Sam and Cas standing several feet away. Dean only looked at you with purpose, and said 'No'. Sam and Cas replied by keeping their feet planted where they were; none of them were leaving you to face this mad man alone. Crowley was plastering himself against the wall like a coward, attempting not to be noticed by Asmodeus. You grimaced as you realized they weren't going to leave you. He was feet from you now, as you tried to recover yourself from the dizziness. Seizing your arm out at your father a second time, he flinched- but then sneered at you. Withdrawing your arm and blinking, your eyes returned to (y/e/c), and you looked at Dean in defeat. "You're outta juice for now, doll…you're new at this, aren't you?" He taunted you, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Just for that little stunt, you're Angel and your boyfriend are next." Your screams filled the room as he swept his arm through the air, slamming Dean and Castiel against the wall, completely immobilized. Sam charged him, lunging with everything he had- and with another sweep of his arm, Sam was thrust against the floor with a cry of pain as he collided with the concrete. As your Father's focus was swayed to Sam, he quickly returned his attention back to Cas and Dean. Castiel's eyes widened, and let out an echoing cry, as he mustered everything he could to grab onto Dean's arm; and in a flash, he and Dean were gone. You blinked rapidly, your eyes darting over the wall with confusion. Then, it dawned on you what had just happened. "Ha! Your boyfriends just left you!!!" Asmodeus whirled around on his heels in laughter to face you. "The Angel just 'whooshed' 'em both outta here…just like that!" His laughter at you utter loss for words bounced off the walls, teasing you. 'They left me.' You could sense Crowley still behind you aways, most likely still trying his damnedest to blend in with the walls. Sam had picked himself up and stood, knees bent, ready to fight. His nostrils were flaring, a pained look plaguing his face while he tried to catch his breath. You didn't try to beg, or get him to stop; he wasn't going to, and you knew that now. Asmodeus was at arm's length with you now, just chuckling and hee-hawing at your misery like the bastard he was. "Ya know, let's play a game…it'll make this more fun- for me, not for you obviously…" He was still chortling, hand on his stomach to calm himself. "Let's play…cat and mouse. I like that one." He winked at you. You ground your teeth, giving him your best bitch face yet. When you didn't reply he moved closer to you, the laughter leaving him altogether. "If you don't play along nicely, I'll kill Sam right here, right now." He muttered in annoyance. Your Father exhaled slowly, and you could almost feel his hot breath on your face. Looking at him, you could see he wasn't joking. His eerie expression sent chills through you, and he spoke again, low and threatening. "Run." For a brief moment you were frozen, unwilling to believe what was happening. Crowley scuttled out the door before you could blink; his handcuffs clanging together as he went. Sam darted over to you in just a few steps and snatched up your hand, hauling you out of the dungeon behind him. Just before he could drag you past the doorway, you whipped your head around to catch one more glimpse of your Father. His eyes were vicious when they probed yours, wearing a wicked smile that betrayed all innocence. In that fleeting moment, you thought to yourself, 'Sometimes, the monsters win…' *************** Hand in hand, you and Sam raced toward the door out of the bunker; Crowley trotting behind you struggling to keep up. At last, you both were nearly sliding around the corner, the landing and stairs in sight. "C'mon!" Sam yelled back to you, yanking on your arm as he sprinted even faster. 'Almost there. Almost there…' Your legs were burning with the adrenaline, closing in on the stairway that lead to safety. You dared to glance behind you, ensuring Crowley was the only monster there; but he didn't seem all that monstrous anymore. Finally, the three of you were tearing past the giant table you loved so much, freedom in sight; when suddenly and without warning, a distant and mysterious humming sounded throughout the bunker. The lights flickered once, then everything around you fell. It was a maddening, sinister darkness that was something out of a nightmare. You, Sam and Crowley came to a screeching halt, plowing into each other. Sam was jerking you behind him every which way as he turned about in a circle trying to see. You could hear his shaky voice saying, 'No, no no…' over and over. The pitch-black darkness lasted briefly before dozens of red lights illuminated with an astounding flash; a shrill winding sound of a generator powering up with it. Joining in the ominous melody, low-toned alarms buzzed loudly from every direction. Pulling away, you saw Sam's face in the red glow. His eyes were hopeless and despondent as he looked down at you, his lips turned downward in despair. "We're locked in…he cut the power." His pulse was so rapid that you could hear his heart beating. "If we go now to turn it back on, he'll be waiting for us…you guys need to hide. I'll go." He said beneath his breath. "No!" You scolded him in a whisper, grasping onto his forearm. "Dean and Cas left, don't you leave too-" He cut you off, grabbing your face with both of his hands, his hazel eyes piercing yours urgently. "Don't. They'll be back. Cas wouldn't leave unless he had a plan." Sam let go of your face, seeing the fear in your eyes. "Okay. We all hide." He released a breath he'd been holding this entire time, collecting your hand again, ready to lead the way. You nodded, looking to Crowley as he agreed dismally. Sam quietly fished a set of keys out of his pocket, passing them to Crowley with a look of disapproval. Seeing they were the keys to the handcuffs, you knew it was the right thing for him to do. You couldn't leave him defenseless, whether you hated him or not; and either way, he was certainly the lesser evil at this point. 'An enemy of my enemy is a friend…' You thought. Sam pointed, ordering Crowley to take the kitchen. He rolled his eyes, but quickly padded off in that direction. The two of you headed back to the hallway you'd come galloping through moments before. Sam steered you right this time, and that was when you heard Asmodeus's voice echoing in the distance behind you. He was toying with you, calling out to you like a psychopath at the climax of a horror film; and you'd be damned if you didn't cringe with terror. "Oh, (Y/n)! I thought I'd make things even more interesting… Dammit, the looks on your faces when the lights went out were priceless!!" Your father's voice sung out over the buzzing alarms, teasing you with carelessness. Both of you kept going. As the red glow flashed overhead, you could see his jaw clenching just like Dean's when he was angry. Sam led you around a corner and down the hallway that would eventually take you back to the dungeon. "Sweetheart…come out, come out, wherever you are…" Asmodeus chided with a hint of eagerness, making your blood boil. "You know, I've got all the time in the world down here with you!! We could catch up, get to know each other…" His voice trailed off, falling further behind you to your relief. "…or I could rip you apart, limb from limb…" Sam pulled you further down the hallway, knowing too that the dungeon was the safest place at the moment… if you could get there in time. You heard your father's voice again, drifting eerily through the air, and sounding frighteningly closer. "…You know, I love the Rolling Stones…don't you, Dear…?" He called. Your brows furrowed, thinking to yourself that he truly was a mad man. You turned another corner, both of your feet stalking as quickly as they could without making too much sound; and just then, you heard him singing. "…*Time is on my side…yes it is…Time is on my side…yes it is…*" The Prince's voice flowed flawlessly, bouncing off the walls and echoing toward you. His haunting song prevailed, and the only thing you could do was to keep moving. "*…Now you always say…that you want to be free…But you'll come running…you'll come running back to me…*" "…*Go ahead, go ahead and light up the town…remember, I'll always be around……time is on my side…yes it is…*" Holding back tears, you were steps away from the dungeon door at last. It was left open still, and Sam glanced back at you, quickly ushering you in first. Once you made it in, Sam stayed put just outside the door way. His head turned from side to side on the look out for Asmodeus, then he looked at you. "I'm gonna try to get the power on, okay? Stay. Here." He ordered in a whisper. You shook your head in protest, moving forward to stop him when he held his hand up at you. "(Y/n), I'll be fine-" Sam's words ended abruptly, when out of nowhere a dagger was plunged into his side. Asmodeus. The outward thrust of the dagger sent his blood spattering onto your face as Sam fell forward; revealing Asmodeus leering behind him, wielding the weapon. Your blood-curdling screams filled the dungeon, not caring if you too were about to be slaughtered. You threw yourself down next to Sam, crying out his name. "I told you this would happen, (Y/n)…" Your father said to you, wiping the dagger off on his suit-jacket's sleeve wickedly. Sam crashed down to his right side, gasping for breath between cries of pain. You ignored Asmodeus, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of your attention. Out of instinct you threw your black t-shirt over your head, leaving you in your tank top, and bundled it up against Sam's wound. "Sam, stay with me! Stay with me, you're okay! Breathe…just breathe!!" Tears were flooding down your cheeks, watching your friends face contort and wince in agony. You looked up to the villain onlooking your living nightmare with sheer pleasure, who jeered down at you with insulting green eyes. Hearing heavy footsteps treading quickly outside the door, Asmodeus turned at the sound. In that exact moment, you watched as Crowley hurled himself into him arduously- the sound of bodies crashing to the floor resounding before you. Freezing where you were for a moment kneeling next to Sam on the floor, you heard Crowley and your father struggling outside the door. "Sam, c'mon we gotta go, but I can't carry you-" Your fearful voice trembled as you did your best to sit him up, holding onto your shirt against the bleeding gape in his side. At your words Sam moved, like he'd been trained for this moment his whole life. You groaned as you helped heave the giant to his feet, draping one arm over your shoulder to sustain him. "You with me?" You asked him, ready to move past the doorway; still hearing the punches and curses from the onslaught on the other side. Sam tried to nod in reply, and you stepped through the doorway. You turned your head to the left; you saw an exerted Crowley to his back with you facing your father, who was splayed on the floor and bloodied. He was the only thing standing in between him and you, but it looked as if he was drained already from the fight. A demon going against a Prince of Hell, no matter how powerful, wouldn't last long. As Crowley sensed you behind him, Asmodeus disappeared before your eyes. The King of Hell let out a growl at the empty floor where your father had just been. You would be glad he was gone if you'd known where fuck he went off to…being taken by surprise again couldn't be an option. "I'll find the bastard…take Moose and run!" Crowley tilted his head in your direction and commanded you with red eyes; and you moved your asses as fast as you could. *********** "(Y/n) slow down…I can't-" Sam tried to speak through clenched teeth. You could still hear the ongoing assault in the bunker, a better distance from you now. You were passing the table, heading for the library. It was the only other place you could think of where you wouldn't be trapped rats, seeing as how it had two exits. He was leaning on you harder now, and your muscles burnt terribly trying to hold him up. 'Cas, Dean, where are you?!' You screamed internally. "Shh- don't try to talk, we're almost there." You pressed Sam to keep going, because you knew there was no way in hell you could carry him. Dragging your feet and barely there, you were finally in the library. You didn't bother closing the doors behind you, mostly because you couldn't; you needed to help your friend first. The two of you made it as far as the third table before Sam collapsed. You toppled down to the floor along with him as the immense weight of him nearly crushed you. You righted yourself, moving first to apply pressure to the wound. The lights were still flashing, red death glows screaming 'war' blinking at you, reminding you of the impending doom with every flare. Your gaze darted from his wound to his face, his eyes were closed now after collapsing, and his breathing was rigid. "Sam!! No no no!!!" You reached out, tapping his cheeks with your palms in attempt to wake him…but he didn't. 'No, no no!!!' ***************** You wished to god you knew how to turn the power back on…you could leave him to find the utility room, get him to a hospital- but if you were killed along the way, Sam would be left unprotected. Something snapped in you then. Your chest tightened, your throat felt like it was closing…and you couldn't control it. The rage, the agony at watching one of your best friends dying, seeing Rowena die…from a call you made to summon a god damn Prince of Hell into the bunker. You didn't care anymore if he found you; you'd kill him when he did. But the tiny voice in your head was telling you that you weren't strong enough, taunting you… 'Locked in. We're locked in.' "Sam!!" You could barely hear your own screams over the ear-piercing alarms resonating through the bunker. Your hands shook furiously while you gripped your t-shirt you'd made into a makeshift bandage, and put as much pressure on his wound as you possibly could. You felt hot tears surging down your face, the bright and eery red lights still blinking with rage. 'Check his pulse…' You shifted your weight to your left hand to free your right one. Your hand, trembling and blood-stained, felt around his neck feverishly for a pulse; it was faint, but it was there. "Sam!! Dammit, say something! S-Stay with me, please!" You felt knives in your windpipe, while you implored an unconscious Sam through uncontrollable sobs. You returned your attention to his wounded side, and exerted more pressure to it again. Your eyes widened at the sight of the younger Winchester's blood, as it soaked through his shirt and rose between your fingers, trickling down the backs of your hands. Looking up, you whipped your head from side to side trying to see through blurred vision. The library re-illuminated, flooded with a red glow as the lights above you flashed again. "Crowley!!!" Your hoarse voice roared out at the top of your lungs- you needed him. Needed to know at least he was alive. More broken sobs escaped your throat, your teary eyes returning to Sam's near-lifeless body on the floor next to you. Still holding your body's weight into his wound, you cried his name out again. "Sam!! Please- no no no no…" Then, you heard a noise. 'Running…someone's running toward me…' You tried to decide whether or not you should hide, but then it dawned on you that it didn't matter- dead or alive, you weren't leaving Sam. "(Y/n)? Is Moose…?" Crowley's british accent sliced through the air, and you breathed an enormous sigh of somewhat relief. "Crowley, help him!" You begged, new and old tears mixing with the dried blood spatter on your face as they fell. He stood before you now and crouched to his knees. "You know I can't love…the bastard took everything I had. He could be back at anytime..." You watched as his features were lit by the red lights, and you saw the King of Hell was as sad, desperate, and afraid as you were. You gasped as the shirt you were holding to Sam's side slipped, dripping with crimson. You cried out, replacing it as quickly as you could. You knew there was no use, but you weren't giving up. Not yet. "Anything from Cas yet? Or Dean? Where's my Dad?" Your horrified eyes searched Crowley's, your face contorting in pain when you could see they held no good news. "Couldn't find him…and nothing from the dynamic duo." You bit down hard on your lip. It took you by surprise when Crowley hung his head. 'Pulse!!! Check his pulse!' You shook yourself, pulling it together- you felt around Sam's neck again for his pulse, and it was weaker. You closed your eyes. 'This is all my fault.' You couldn't even cry anymore; your breath hitched and your entire body shook as you fell back to your heels. Crowley's hand was on your shoulder in an instant. "You should've listened to me, love." ===>PRESENT TIME You ignored Crowley's harshness, even though his words sounded kind. "You can fix this, (Y/n). You can." He said, leaning down trying to catch your eye. You shook your head with a huff. "How the hell do I do that?" You replied. "You can heal him, you just have to focus. If I could show you, you know I would, but…you have to want it. And I know you do…so just try. Couldn't hurt." Crowley spoke in a hushed tone, gripping your forearm to guide your hand back to Sam's wound. Shooting him an uneasy look, you followed his direction. "Remember (y/n), just see it in your mind- want it. Make it happen." He urged you on, releasing his hand from your arm to let you try. Inhaling then releasing your unsure breath, you closed your eyes and pressed your hand into Sam's wound. You imagined healing him in your mind, thinking of what you thought it'd look like; his insides healed, his skin merging back together, and waking up. God, what you'd give to see him open his eyes. You not only wanted it, you needed it. You loved him, because he was your friend, and Dean's brother…and you knew how much Dean needed him. Your thoughts were wandering to Dean, as if you wanted to save his brother not for yourself, but for Dean…and because it wasn't Sam's time. Death couldn't have him yet. "(Y/n)…" Crowley's small but stern voice broke your train of thought, and you opened your eyes. Disbelief flooded your face, and for a second you couldn't breathe. The most beautiful golden glow was fading; leaving Sam's wound, and traveling back into the palm of your hand, where it disappeared. Your eyes darted to Crowley's. He was wearing the proudest grin a King of Hell could wear, and you smiled warily; wondering if you'd really done it, when Sam's eyes fluttered open. "(Y/n)? What the hell happened?" Sam looked at you, hoisting himself up to rest on his elbows. Holding a finger to your lips to tell him to be quiet, you slowly removed the t-shirt that was soaked in his blood covering his injury. And there it was, you'd done it. The gaping stab wound was gone, the blood on his skin the only reminder of it remaining. "I'll be damned…I didn't think you could do it." Crowley said sarcastically, shooting you a wink. Sam lifted his shirt, the events that took place dawning on him suddenly. His eyes widened as he looked up at you. "Did-Did you heal me?" He asked, his brows furrowed in question. You nodded vigorously as more tears, joyful tears, sprung from your eyes. You crashed down into him with a bear hug, trying to contain your happy sobs. 'I did it…I really fucking did it. He's alright…' You thought. A new voice sounded in the library's doorway, and your joy was torn from you instantly. "Isn't this cute?" Asmodeus stood, looming there like he was getting off on destroying your small win. Crowley squeezed his eyes shut in frustration, and you all rose from the floor to face him. The three of you soaked in the scene before you, Sam towering behind you and Crowley at your side. And every single one of you smiled enormous grins, and you laughed out loud softly. There stood your Father in the doorway...you should've been frightened, or at least angry- but you weren't. Because unbeknownst to him, Dean and Castiel were standing behind him. Asmodeus chuckled, shifting his hands to his hips in disregard. "What's so funny to you…your imminent deaths?" He scoffed, his devilish eyes searching yours. "No, I'm smiling because…" You said, sauntering toward him with a stride. "My boyfriend is behind you."

#spn #dean #dean winchester #dean/reader #dean x reader #reader x dean #reader insert #reader pov #nephilim!reader #nephilim #angels and demons #angels #demons #hybrid #angel demon spawn #sammy #sam #sam winchester #cas #castiel #feathers #crowley #hybrid reader #rowena #witch #spells #summoning #prince of hell #asmodeus #daddy

[ao3gingerswag]

tell us more adventures in teaching

i mean tbh every day is just batshit crazy but its not all amusing lol a lot of it is pretty depressing. but in terms of like funny/stupid stuff. 

yesterday a kid URGENTLY waved me over and when i got over there he jumped up and yelled “OPPA MR. KRABS STYLE” and then did the stupid dance. i was like Micheal. We r working on pointing plots on a graph. But clearly that was not what Micheal was doing.

Talked about Anne Frank today and the laws the Nazis were passing to oppress Jewish people, like they weren’t allowed to ride public transport, weren’t allowed to own shops, weren’t allowed to go to school. One of the kids yelled “NO SCHOOL! YYAAAYYY IM JEALOUS!!!” I was like Nate. Nate. Nate. Trust me you should not be jealous of Anne Frank.

Tuesday a kid yelled KOBE!!!! and then smashed a glass bottle on the floor. (got in huge trouble but like gbhjknfgchvj all i could think of was john mulaney’s friend “he smashed a 40 on the ground and yelled SCATTER!!!!!)

Recently they’ve been writing an “edgy” version of the Bill Nye theme song called “Bill Nye the Russian spy” and they wont stop singing it during math class despite being yelled at 100 times.

When we were reading Percy Jackson they ALL, COMPLETELY CONSISTENTLY referred to the furies as the furries. It was SO fucking funny they were like and then when they were on the bus the furries attacked Percy and Grover!! And I’m like. Oh did they?

They’ve gotten into the Barbie Girl theme song somehow even though its like 15 years old. Yesterday they got to go outside for art but then they got dragged back in half way through because they would NOT stop screaming it at passing strangers at the top of their lungs. Do you know how funny it is to see a bunch of repentant 12 year olds getting yelled at for screaming the Barbie Girl theme song at random people.

and then last but not least I already posted this one but i have to say it again. couple of weeks ago I watched one of my 6th graders put an airpod between his teeth and crack it like a nut.

#im copy pasting my tags from the post about the last one #he went whooaaa!! it worked!!! i was like................................why did u do that and he stared and me and then said............... #i dont know #i was like :/ ok well. dont do that to the other one. bc if u do are u gonna be able to listen to ur audiobook? #and i stared and him and wouldnt leave until he said no i wont be able to listen to my audiobook #and i said ok so are we gonna do that again and he was like :( no. they are so stupid it is unbelievable i love them so much #ao3gingerswag #asks #adventures in teaching

[imagineyourstars]

Hey there >.0 Can I request how the Knights react to their s/o overworking so much to the point that they're worried for her but she's too stubborn to rest?

first knights request ! i took it as the s/o being the tenkousei and working hard on producer stuff, i hope that’s what you wanted ! if not you can still send another request;;;;; - admin mademoiselle

Izumi

Izumi’s the hardworker type himself, so he won’t especially notice you’re overworkingyourself at first.  He’ll just act as though it’s natural for Knights’ producer to work a lot.

It doesn’t helpthat he tends to add more work for you, by planning more idol jobs ortasking you with things he can’t do, like outfit making. He’ll getangry if you don’t answer your phone within two minutes, or if youtake too long on some odd job he sent you away for. Overall, he tendsto treat you as his personal assistant.

Soon, the things you had to do piled up. You had to work hard on costume making, concert planning and let’snot even mention your homework. This caused you to stress yourselfquite badly, and one day during costume fitting you couldn’t help butburst into tears when Izumi’s jacket wouldn’t fit.

It was the firsttime you saw Izumi be confused about a situation. He quickly got ahang of himself but you witnessed him being at a loss for words for amoment. Ultimately, he decided to take you out of Knight’s small andstuffy studio for some fresh air.

Izumi understandswork can be a bit too much sometimes, but he’s afraid to give you advicewithout sounding condescending or like he’s lecturing you. So he optsto just shyly hug you. It’s a very brief hug, but you felt better allthe same. When he finally speaks, he’s not lecturing or being mean,but whispering in a gentle voice.

“You can relyon me a bit more, you know. If too many people give you things to do,you can just tell me. I’ll make sure they won’t ever charge theirwork on you again. Count on me like you’d do with a big brother,would you ?”

He sweetly kissedyour forehead and made you promise to never overexert yourself againbefore the two of you went back to work. But this time, he was the one who ranabout as everyone’s assistant, and you were allowed to sit in acorner and take a nap.

This you didn’tknow, but he was watching over you with a smile as you slept.

Ritsu

Sometimes, Knightsbeing so popular can be a pain. Especially when you have to make allthe goodies they’re going to sell at their concerts. The othermembers tried to give you a hand, but they were so terrible at itthat you decided to take care of it all by yourself.

As the live concertdate got closer and closer, you started to panick. There was no wayyou were going to be able to finish all of the goodies in time. Soyou started to stay at school after class for longer and longer, andsometimes only went back home when Kunugi-sensei forced you to.

You also took a bitof your sleeping time to work on goodies-making. Sometimes you didn’tnotice how late it was and only had a couple hours of sleep beforeyou had to go to school again.

Ritsu wasunderstandbly confused upon seeing you groggily wandering down thehallways during lunch break. “I thought I was the vampire here”,he slyly remarked. When he noticed you were too tired to even answerback with some wit of your own, he started to realize how wrong thesituation was.

He offered some ofhis soda to you (the truth is, there’s too much for him to drink).The sweet, fizzy drink didn’t even help ; you were dozing off all thesame. Ritsu then decided to switch to plan B and took you to hissecret room. Before you knew it, you were laying in a dark andcomfortable place, Ritsu’s hand gently stroking yours as he murmuredsweet nothings.

“Don’t worry,I’ll be watching over you. You can have some sleep. I hope you dreamof me…”

When you woke up,classes were already over. You got up in a panick, only to see Ritsuhad fallen asleep too, next to you. You tried to go back to youroriginal position to avoid waking him, but he lazily opened one redeye.

“Is sleepingbeauty awake yet ? It’s boring watching someone else sleep,y'know….” He smirked and hugged you close, leaving you nopossibility to move away from him.

And that’s how yougot trapped into Rei’s spare coffin with Ritsu for far longer thanyou intended. But hey, he brought some snacks and drinks. Andarranged for someone else to work on the goodies for the concertinstead. You deserved some rest, and he was more than willing tohelp you get it.

Arashi

Being a producerwas a fulfilling job. You got to do many different things, meet alot of people and try so many new experiences. And one of them wasreviewing a new choreography for Knights’ next concert.

Of course, you hadto practice it yourself, to see if it was feasible. Then you had tolearn it, to teach everyone what they were supposed to do. Then, youhad to change it, because Leo would always fuck up at some point andrun into the others.

Dancing is a lotmore physical than you’d thought. You’re not an idol, so you don’thave to be perfect at it but you must know your idols’ dance moves byheart and be able to teach them. As you were a bit insecure overbeing able to do that, you practiced a lot by yourself. Including atnighttime.

Stress and lack ofsleep made you physically weaker, which in turn prompted you tobecome more frustrated at yourself and then train harder. How couldyou be Knights’ producer when you couldn’t even perform simple dancemoves well…. ?

As you were mopingin one of the dance rooms, Arashi allowed himself in. He felt youwere upset the past few days, and didn’t even have to inquire aboutthe cause. It was all too obvious.

Surprisingly,Arashi’s a very good teacher. He helped you memorize some of the moredifficult moves and perfected the choreography with you. He praisedyou a lot, smiling brightly whenever you’d get a hard part right.

“Wow, you’reso good at it ! See, I’m sure you can do anything when you give ityour best !”

He also is a goodlistener and you both sat down after practice, you saying how hardthe last couple days had been for you and him listening. He waspractically offended you didn’t come to him earlier for help. He alsotold you how worried he’d been over you, and made you promise tonever do that kind of thing again.

“I know I saidI love hardworking boys and girls, but I didn’t mean it like that,you know~  You should treat your body with respect and allow it somerest !”

Only one ofArashi’s warm and nice hugs was enough to make you feel instantlybetter. He also insisted on lending you his favorite concealer,saying with a wink that dark circles could ruin your pretty face.Arashi’s kind of like the resident big sister : you can and shouldcome to him for advice or help !

Leo

One of the thingsthat perplexed you the most about your new producer job was writingsongs. Lyrics were one thing, but writing one entire song by yourself? That sounded like a challenge.

At first, youdidn’t have to worry about it. Leo would take care of it all. Butthen, after one particularly nasty cold that lasted over a week andprevented him from coming to school, he decided he should name asuccessor who would make songs in his place from time to time.Obviously, you were chosen.

Leo did give youlessons on music and composing in general, but he’s so vague you canhardly make up what he’s saying. And he often gets distracted, eitherby something or someone else, or by himself. He always ends thelesson writing his new song in a frenzy anywhere he can, all thewhile excitedly mumbling stuff about “inspiration” and“fantasies”. Needless to say, he didn’t help you much.

Being stubborn asyou are, you still decided to work hard on it. For days. And nights,especially. But no matter what you’d come up with, it would alwaysseem tame and lazy compared to Leo’s songs. You couldn’t help but getfrustrated and unreasonably angry at yourself.

Leo’s prettytactless. You knew that already. But you weren’t expecting him toshout “Whooaaa, you look like a zombie ! Zombie-chan, pleasebite me~” when he ran into you. Did you really look that awful ?

As you hesitated between being offended and actually indulging himand biting him hard enough to teach him some manners, he took you bythe hand and dragged you to an empty classroom.

Once he closed thedoor, he looked at you dead in the eye. He was incredibly serious,for once. His eyes were grave, and his eyebrows tightly knitted. Whenhe spoke, his voice was considerably lower compared to his usualhappy pitch.

“Listen. Iknow you’re working too hard. It just shows on your face. But pleasedon’t. Work is for serious people, and serious people are not reallyfunny. Besides, I don’t want you to work yourself to death !”

Before you couldeven answer anything to that, he shoved a handful of papers inyour face. You took a moment to realize they were music scores. Leowas looking at you expectantly, and when he understood you weren’tgoing to say anything, he sighed dramatically.

“They’re songsI wrote thinking of you. You know… You don’t need to work harddoing the same thing as me. I just need you to be there, and smile asusual, and make everyone happy. Please be my muse !”

As soon as he’dblurted that out, he gasped, his face lit up by his latest idea. “Amuse ! That’s it, the inspiration is flowing !" 

You spent therest of the afternoon babysitting Leo and trying to prevent him fromwriting on the walls and floor, but you felt like a heavy weight hadbeen lifted off your shoulders. Just by being himself, Leo had thatkind of effect on you. Maybe that’s the power of love.

Tsukasa

If there was oneword to explain what your producer job mainly consisted of, it wouldbe : phonecalls. So many damn phonecalls.

Planning concerts,photoshoots, meetings with the fans and radio interviews took a largechunk of your day, everyday. Maintaining a busy timetable for theboys was already hard enough, as you also had classes of your own toattend. But Leo seemed to think it wasn’t enough and often would planmore idol jobs on a whim, or ruin your plans by deciding at the lastminute that Knights wasn’t ready for their studio recording sessionand it would have to be postponed.

So, yeah.Phonecalls. At some point, you and the secretary from the nearbyrecording studio would become best buds if things went on that way.

As you tried beingthe best producer Knights could hope for, you had to dabble in a lotof stuff, like planning activities, managing Knights’ official socialmedia accounts, negotiate for a spot in a commercial…. The pressurewas considerable, but you kept pushing yourself further and further,even waking up in the middle of the night when you had a photoshootidea to take some notes of it.

During lunchbreaks, you could often be found in Knights’ studio makingphonecalls. Or finishing up new outfits. Or planning a dance routine.But never eating. You took a nasty habit of skipping lunch to favorwork instead. No one noticed, anyway.

Except someday, asyou were helping Tsukasa put on his new outfit for a music videoshooting, your stomach rumbled. Loud and clear. Your cheeks wereburning red and you were positively glowing of embarassment butTsukasa, being a gentleman, feigned to not having heard a thing. Butthen it growled again. Ten times louder.

As much as you weretrying to get out of this situation, Tsukasa wouldn’t have it. He wasvery polite, but also very firm.

"Onee-sama,may I wonder…. if you’re sustaining yourself properly ? It is veryimportant to eat three meals a day. Have you eaten yet ?” Youcouldn’t remember when your last meal was. You’d skipped breakfastthat morning, since you were late for class, and now you were alsoskipping lunch…

Seeing you sounsure of when you last ate, Tsukasa felt heartbroken. He ran to hisbag and gave you all the snacks he kept for later, urging you to eatsomething before you feel faint. He even went to buy you a drink andcame back in a heartbeat. Before you could even thank him, he’d leftagain and came back with your favorite sandwich from the schoolstore. You tried to resume your outfit fitting session, but he was adamant aboutwanting you to eat.

As there was waytoo much food for you to eat by yourself, you offered to share withhim and he shyly accepted. You two then snacked on pocky andcrackers, chatting about various things. Tsukasa inquired about yourhobbies and your family. You did the same. He also told a few jokes,and as much as you were surprised, they were good.

By the end of lunchbreak, you were feeling relaxed and happy, and your stomach was too.You’d managed to forget a bit about work, and all thanks to Tsukasa.

#ensemble stars #enstars #headcanons #izumi sena #ensemble stars imagines #tsukasa suou #tsukinaga leo #narukami arashi #sakuma ritsu #mod mademoiselle #knights

[medproish]

Patrick Reed was not the most popular Masters champion but he's a deserving one

The game of professional golf does not have home and away players. Fans, and especially patrons, as they are called at the Masters, do not root against players. They root harder and louder for some more than others, but there’s never any active rooting against the other guy playing next to or on the same course as the one that may be your preferred choice.

But the muted reactions and awkward silences were deafening on Sunday at Augusta National. Patrick Reed held off a trio of chargers at different stages over a final round afternoon of 71 that delivered him the green jacket. First came Rory McIlroy, then came Jordan Spieth, and last came Rickie Fowler. All three were favored more by these Augusta galleries in a distinctly noticeable way.

It did not matter to Reed. He probably preferred it that way, choosing to use the favoritism to stay pissed off and stay on top of the leaderboard. This is generally where he succeeds most and why he’s been such a brilliant asset for team USA in the Ryder Cup, the one event where there are home and away teams.

So much of what happens at Augusta National can only be discerned by crowd reactions. You have no phone so there’s no Twitter updating you instantly on the shot or streaming to play as you walk. There are no earpiece radios. There are no video boards of any kind. There are only manual leaderboards and they are only updated when a player completes a hole and a new number can be put in one of the 18 slots.

It’s also one of the most brilliant pieces of land you could ever lay a golf course on, with mounds and hills tumbling and cascading on every hole. But because of that elevation change, and some of the Sunday pins, there are several blind shots. You need the gallery lining the ropes and up in the grandstands around the greens to react, emote, give you something. That something may be a loud cheer that reverberates across that corner of the course, or it may be this very defined groan about some misfortune your golf ball up ahead has encountered.

With Reed, we got very little. Standing on the rope line on the blind shots from back in the fairways, I stopped trying to figure out whether it was good or bad based on the crowd reaction. At the third hole, Reed attacked a tucked pin and hit it to 15 feet. It was a precise play that came just moments after McIlroy left his short of the green to that accompanying groan. Reed’s should have elicited a much louder roar, some sort of signal that this shot, from the damn Masters leader, was pure. Reed noticed it, no doubt. He notices all these things and then he went up and poured in the 15 footer to get his lead back to three shots over Rory, the people’s choice in this Sunday final pairing.

This started from the very first tee, and Reed mentioned it. “I walked up to the first tee and had a really welcoming cheer from the fans,” he said after the win. “But then when Rory walked up to the tee, you know, his cheer was a little louder.”

It was a lot louder and it continued on the first nine, really until Rory’s run came to an end at the 8th hole. Rory had an army following him, made up of those who knew him — like his friends, family, agents, Irish — and those who didn’t know him. Reed had his wife and a small group of friends decked out in custom Pat Reed New Era caps with an American flag motif.

Every Rory step was greeted with a loud “C’mon Rorrrrrry!” His approach shots into the 2nd and 4th holes, and those birdies, brought the house down. The patrons were wired and ready to watch Rory complete the slam. Reed’s birdies got moderate clapping. After Reed ripped his drive at the 5th hole, one fan shouted “US…a!” fading out on the third letter, slumping his shoulders, and sheepishly looking around.

Reed did not seem to mind this very obvious delineation in what started as a match play exchange of wins through the first six holes. “That’s another thing that just kind of played into my hand,” Reed said about the crowds going for the other guy. “Not only did it fuel my fire a little bit, but also, it just takes the pressure off of me and adds it back to [Rory].”

When Rory bowed out, the galleries found new heroes in Spieth and Fowler. Spieth’s Sunday run was historic and should have legitimately whipped the crowd up in the way that it did. A bullet off the pine straw at the 13th was one of the loudest roars of the day, the resolution of the dramatic moment confirmed by the crowd in a way that we just weren’t getting with Reed’s shots. Spieth’s putt at the 16th hole was the loudest cheer of the day, as the patrons deliriously high-fived each other. Hell, the roars of just posting the news of the birdie a few moments later on leaderboards in other parts of the course were some of the loudest of the day.

The last to make a run at Reed was Rickie, the other major-less contender on this Sunday. Rickie’s contention slipped through the cracks as most on the grounds focused on the Reed-Rory match and then Spieth torching Augusta up ahead. All of a sudden, Rickie was just one shot off the lead and had a chance to force a playoff. The confirmation of his birdie putt at the 18th green could be heard throughout the entire property, including with Reed one hole back.

“To hear that roar on the last, even though I knew Jon [Rahm] was in the group, I just knew it had to be Rickie.” Think about this for a moment. You’re leading the Masters and trying to read crowd reactions to figure out what you need to do to stay ahead and get your first major.

Then, to add to the moment, the scoreboard operator back at the 17th green quickly slapped the news into the 18th hole slot next to Fowler’s name. The numbers are usually quietly slipped into place in no real rush, but this one was slammed in rapidly to get the news up that Rickie was within one. The loud smack at the board was followed by a roar all around the 17th green and 18th tee, and around Reed as he walked to go tee it up for his last hole.

The odd gallery dynamic went right down the very last putt that won the Masters. If you were down the hill at the 18th, looking up at the elevated green, you’d have thought Reed’s shot bounded into the crowd. Instead, he was safely on the edge of green with two putts to win the jacket. The first putt went by the hole, and from down below a “whooaaa” went out as if he’d just putted it off the green. It was four feet away from the hole.

Then Reed cleaned up the four footer and won the Masters. The crowd cheered, politely, made a quick turn and started that Augusta “no running allowed” speed walk down the slopes of the 18th green for the exits. Think of the absolute opposite reaction to Phil’s putt and leap to win in 2004, or even last year’s Sergio putt to win the playoff. It was bizarre, noticeable, and even awkward.

This was how Reed was going to win a major, as an adversary burning up on the inside at the latest slight. Nothing would make him happier to win a green jacket but also do it while stiff-arming a Rory grand slam attempt, the walking brand front man Rickie, and Spieth, who is often jabbed by his peers as “the golden child.” The crowds weren’t against him — the place founded by Bobby Jones wouldn’t allow it. But they were clearly for other guys more and he knew it.

This is where Reed thrives, and he did it right down to the very end, bristling and fist pumping on his par-save at the 17th before he could fully celebrate up on the final green. Golf is an individual sport, but it’s also a collegial game, especially in this era when so many of the 20-somethings also seem to be friends off the course. Reed gets along in the team events. But he’s often operating alone and practicing by himself, as he did this week during Monday’s practice round, going solo and watching one hole behind the madness of a Tiger Woods, Fred Couples, and Justin Thomas trio.

The Masters is the greatest golf tournament in the world but it’s greatness doesn’t mean it has to produce the most popular or obvious winner. Bubba Watson, two-time champion, is not without his flaws and a cohort of detractors. Danny Willett wasn’t the people’s choice but he happily took his green jacket after Spieth came undone in 2016. Even Garcia, last year’s winner, made enemies over the years but his win was celebrated because of those decades of distress and struggle.

We don’t get Tiger or Spieth or Phil or the people’s choice winning every year. It doesn’t make the Masters worse or Patrick Reed any less deserving. Golf’s fickleness in not delivering the obvious choice is what makes it so great, and enhances the moments when it does all come together. Reed is a world-class talent, an American lion in the Ryder Cup, and now a Masters legend. His work on Sunday, and really all weekend, is what you want from a champion, especially in the face of three superstar challengers. His play should be celebrated as such, even if it felt a little subdued in the moment on Sunday.

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[medproish]

The game of professional golf does not have home and away players. Fans, and especially patrons, as they are called at the Masters, do not root against players. They root harder and louder for some more than others, but there’s never any active rooting against the other guy playing next to or on the same course as the one that may be your preferred choice.

But the muted reactions and awkward silences were deafening on Sunday at Augusta National. Patrick Reed held off a trio of chargers at different stages over a final round afternoon of 71 that delivered him the green jacket. First came Rory McIlroy, then came Jordan Spieth, and last came Rickie Fowler. All three were favored more by these Augusta galleries in a distinctly noticeable way.

It did not matter to Reed. He probably preferred it that way, choosing to use the favoritism to stay pissed off and stay on top of the leaderboard. This is generally where he succeeds most and why he’s been such a brilliant asset for team USA in the Ryder Cup, the one event where there are home and away teams.

So much of what happens at Augusta National can only be discerned by crowd reactions. You have no phone so there’s no Twitter updating you instantly on the shot or streaming to play as you walk. There are no earpiece radios. There are no video boards of any kind. There are only manual leaderboards and they are only updated when a player completes a hole and a new number can be put in one of the 18 slots.

It’s also one of the most brilliant pieces of land you could ever lay a golf course on, with mounds and hills tumbling and cascading on every hole. But because of that elevation change, and some of the Sunday pins, there are several blind shots. You need the gallery lining the ropes and up in the grandstands around the greens to react, emote, give you something. That something may be a loud cheer that reverberates across that corner of the course, or it may be this very defined groan about some misfortune your golf ball up ahead has encountered.

With Reed, we got very little. Standing on the rope line on the blind shots from back in the fairways, I stopped trying to figure out whether it was good or bad based on the crowd reaction. At the third hole, Reed attacked a tucked pin and hit it to 15 feet. It was a precise play that came just moments after McIlroy left his short of the green to that accompanying groan. Reed’s should have elicited a much louder roar, some sort of signal that this shot, from the damn Masters leader, was pure. Reed noticed it, no doubt. He notices all these things and then he went up and poured in the 15 footer to get his lead back to three shots over Rory, the people’s choice in this Sunday final pairing.

This started from the very first tee, and Reed mentioned it. “I walked up to the first tee and had a really welcoming cheer from the fans,” he said after the win. “But then when Rory walked up to the tee, you know, his cheer was a little louder.”

It was a lot louder and it continued on the first nine, really until Rory’s run came to an end at the 8th hole. Rory had an army following him, made up of those who knew him — like his friends, family, agents, Irish — and those who didn’t know him. Reed had his wife and a small group of friends decked out in custom Pat Reed New Era caps with an American flag motif.

Every Rory step was greeted with a loud “C’mon Rorrrrrry!” His approach shots into the 2nd and 4th holes, and those birdies, brought the house down. The patrons were wired and ready to watch Rory complete the slam. Reed’s birdies got moderate clapping. After Reed ripped his drive at the 5th hole, one fan shouted “US…a!” fading out on the third letter, slumping his shoulders, and sheepishly looking around.

Reed did not seem to mind this very obvious delineation in what started as a match play exchange of wins through the first six holes. “That’s another thing that just kind of played into my hand,” Reed said about the crowds going for the other guy. “Not only did it fuel my fire a little bit, but also, it just takes the pressure off of me and adds it back to [Rory].”

When Rory bowed out, the galleries found new heroes in Spieth and Fowler. Spieth’s Sunday run was historic and should have legitimately whipped the crowd up in the way that it did. A bullet off the pine straw at the 13th was one of the loudest roars of the day, the resolution of the dramatic moment confirmed by the crowd in a way that we just weren’t getting with Reed’s shots. Spieth’s putt at the 16th hole was the loudest cheer of the day, as the patrons deliriously high-fived each other. Hell, the roars of just posting the news of the birdie a few moments later on leaderboards in other parts of the course were some of the loudest of the day.

The last to make a run at Reed was Rickie, the other major-less contender on this Sunday. Rickie’s contention slipped through the cracks as most on the grounds focused on the Reed-Rory match and then Spieth torching Augusta up ahead. All of a sudden, Rickie was just one shot off the lead and had a chance to force a playoff. The confirmation of his birdie putt at the 18th green could be heard throughout the entire property, including with Reed one hole back.

“To hear that roar on the last, even though I knew Jon [Rahm] was in the group, I just knew it had to be Rickie.” Think about this for a moment. You’re leading the Masters and trying to read crowd reactions to figure out what you need to do to stay ahead and get your first major.

Then, to add to the moment, the scoreboard operator back at the 17th green quickly slapped the news into the 18th hole slot next to Fowler’s name. The numbers are usually quietly slipped into place in no real rush, but this one was slammed in rapidly to get the news up that Rickie was within one. The loud smack at the board was followed by a roar all around the 17th green and 18th tee, and around Reed as he walked to go tee it up for his last hole.

The odd gallery dynamic went right down the very last putt that won the Masters. If you were down the hill at the 18th, looking up at the elevated green, you’d have thought Reed’s shot bounded into the crowd. Instead, he was safely on the edge of green with two putts to win the jacket. The first putt went by the hole, and from down below a “whooaaa” went out as if he’d just putted it off the green. It was four feet away from the hole.

Then Reed cleaned up the four footer and won the Masters. The crowd cheered, politely, made a quick turn and started that Augusta “no running allowed” speed walk down the slopes of the 18th green for the exits. Think of the absolute opposite reaction to Phil’s putt and leap to win in 2004, or even last year’s Sergio putt to win the playoff. It was bizarre, noticeable, and even awkward.

This was how Reed was going to win a major, as an adversary burning up on the inside at the latest slight. Nothing would make him happier to win a green jacket but also do it while stiff-arming a Rory grand slam attempt, the walking brand front man Rickie, and Spieth, who is often jabbed by his peers as “the golden child.” The crowds weren’t against him — the place founded by Bobby Jones wouldn’t allow it. But they were clearly for other guys more and he knew it.

This is where Reed thrives, and he did it right down to the very end, bristling and fist pumping on his par-save at the 17th before he could fully celebrate up on the final green. Golf is an individual sport, but it’s also a collegial game, especially in this era when so many of the 20-somethings also seem to be friends off the course. Reed gets along in the team events. But he’s often operating alone and practicing by himself, as he did this week during Monday’s practice round, going solo and watching one hole behind the madness of a Tiger Woods, Fred Couples, and Justin Thomas trio.

The Masters is the greatest golf tournament in the world but it’s greatness doesn’t mean it has to produce the most popular or obvious winner. Bubba Watson, two-time champion, is not without his flaws and a cohort of detractors. Danny Willett wasn’t the people’s choice but he happily took his green jacket after Spieth came undone in 2016. Even Garcia, last year’s winner, made enemies over the years but his win was celebrated because of those decades of distress and struggle.

We don’t get Tiger or Spieth or Phil or the people’s choice winning every year. It doesn’t make the Masters worse or Patrick Reed any less deserving. Golf’s fickleness in not delivering the obvious choice is what makes it so great, and enhances the moments when it does all come together. Reed is a world-class talent, an American lion in the Ryder Cup, and now a Masters legend. His work on Sunday, and really all weekend, is what you want from a champion, especially in the face of three superstar challengers. His play should be celebrated as such, even if it felt a little subdued in the moment on Sunday.

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