#lotsa tags but eh

[quek-a-sketch]

Tamara Hex!!! Tobias' twin sister! Yes another riptide oc /lh she's a cleric with some... Controversial takes

#jrwi #jrwi oc #tamara hex #her take is basically #harmony between the sun and moon goddesses #she doesnt see the point in why either set of worshippers hates the others #and derives her devine powers from both the sun and moon! #so she travels around the temples dressed in a mix of sun amd moon cleric clothes #lotsa tags but eh #i love her a lot

[silverzoomies]

Cunning Linguist

pietro maximoff x reader smut

warnings: cunnilingus, porn with (slight) plot, blow jobs, dissociative identity disorder, dissociation, existential crisis, smut, shameless smut, halloween, canon divergence

word count: 3,990

a/n: i meant to finish this ages ago. but i always overthink shit. i rewrote this several times, and it still doesn't feel worth posting. oh well !! just meaningless filth - same old story, different clothing. i wanted to play with the concept of pietro as an alter in ralph's head. again. lol

he's a little ooc here. but i'm blaming the brain fog. i'm running on three hours of sleep every night. fuck it, we ball. also, not including a tag list because tumblr's system kinda sucks for it. sorry !!

Pietro recalled the moment his consciousness came to light.

Agnes waved her spooky hands in his face, as though she were taunting him. She muttered incantations under her breath. The words of which Pietro didn’t recognize as English. After implanting sentimental memories in his mind - based on stories of Wanda’s childhood - she sent him off on his own. Like letting a dog loose, free to roam. 

Pietro’s mission? Find Wanda, have a gabfest or two, extract information. Or something along those lines. Pietro hadn’t paid much attention while Agnes yapped about it. Why focus on that, when the mystery of his own sentience piqued his interest instead?

He was given an easy enough job to do. No problem-o. Pietro had a talent for pestering people til’ they cracked. That’s what Agnes told him, anyway. He wasn’t too sure why she wanted him to play undercover rat. It had something to do with magic. Pietro knew that much. There was some kinda witch-on-witch rivalry in the works. But unfortunately for Agnes - and maybe fortunately for Wanda - she might have to take a raincheck on her duel of the sorceresses.  

Pietro could be a bit of a dipshit. Was he stupid? Not so much. He had brains where it counted. He could be crafty. Even sneaky. But his expert level slyness didn’t make him any less of an idiot. Pietro couldn’t refute that factoid about himself. Around Wanda, he forgot how to function like a normal person. Which he blamed on the fact that he wasn’t a normal person. Being brutally honest with himself; Pietro technically wasn’t even a person at all.

More like a conceptual incarnation of human sentience, really. Simple enough.

No ifs, ands, or buts about it, though - Pietro carried the irksome flaws of a human. Often, he acted thoughtless when he didn’t mean to. Without filtering himself first, Pietro unapologetically spoke his mind. He’d drop fourth-wall breaking quips here or there. Sometimes, his careless habits made for entertaining slip ups. Perfect for sitcom shenanigans. Other times, his blunders resulted in pain. Lotsa pain.

Halloween night, Pietro found himself whisked away by a forceful wave. Conjured by Wanda’s potent magic. The same power Agnes wanted her wiggly witch fingers on. After going aerial in a wild whoosh, Pietro got up close and friendly with some Halloween decorations. But, hey, what’re a few broken bones between pseudo siblings, eh?

Wanda sure had a helluva temper. She quickly banished Pietro from ever setting foot in her house again. Talk about a major bummer. Pietro suffered a huge loss on that front. One part because he’d have no choice but to crash with Agnes again. Ninety nine parts because he’d miss his troublemaking nephews. Those fun, lil scamps.

Tough luck, Quickie. Try and do better next time.

Honestly, he’d prefer if there wasn’t a next time.  If Agnes wanted to make small talk so bad, she could do it on her own. Calling it quits for the night, Pietro wandered off to a Westview bar. To his surprise, he found the place still in operation. And despite Pietro’s memories - vague imagery of Busch beer cans crushed under his fist - he hadn’t had a beer since his consciousness manifested. Shit. Did he even like beer? Whether he cared for it or not, a subconscious instinct drew him to it.

He assumed that instinct was none other than Ralph himself. The poor dude wanted to drown his terror in alcohol. And after all the twisted shit Agnes put Ralph through; who was Pietro to deny him one of life's simplest pleasures?

The mellow atmosphere of the bar oozed Halloween spirit. Kinda unnecessary, in retrospect. Considering Wanda never stopped by for a drink. Why bother sprucing the place up with her wispy magic, if it never saw any use?

The bartender’s clever quips reminded Pietro of Cheers. Another totally bonkers concept. Pietro had memories of watching Cheers, sure. But he couldn’t decipher if they were Ralph’s or not. For all Pietro knew, they might be a part of the ‘dead brother’ package deal. False memories, meant to give Wanda someone to relate to. Making him liable to tear down her defenses when she least expected it. 

But why did Pietro get the sense he was more of a Frasier guy anyway?

Sitting at the bar on a rickety stool, Pietro spun around to satiate his boredom. He cradled a beer, inhaling all of it in a single beat. Superspeed really did have its ups and downs. Consider quick consumption a positive. As far as negatives go…well…inebriation was completely unattainable. Sucks for Ralph. As Pietro flagged down the bartender for another beer, he tuned his ears to a radio broadcast. On a shelf amidst dollar store Halloween decor; a radio droned old fashioned tales of wicked witches. Subtle.

Outside interference interrupted the broadcast. Voices intermingled between buzzes of static. Whispering soft, but panicked mantras of 'Wanda? Wanda, are you there?' Pietro narrowed his beady eyes. His ignorance of the world outside Westview should’ve stayed intact. But whatever the reason, he knew exactly where those voices came from. Why he carried such knowledge was anyone’s guess. Maybe Agnes let too much her own insight slip into his psyche. Whoopsies. Oh well. Shrugging, Pietro flagged down the bartender for another beer. Deja vu.

Bored outta his mind, his thoughts explored elsewhere.

Pietro dreamt of something a little more down to earth. He remembered a cutie-pie neighbor new to Westview. A ‘next door’ kinda type, with a quirky sorta charm. They had no idea why they were in the city to begin with. Pietro knew these details, only because he gathered the what’s what on just about every person in town. It took him all of two seconds to do so. Zip around. Observe. Make mental notes. Report back to Agnes. Spill the deets.

Anyway, about you…

Call it a crush, loneliness, or even instinctive lust; whatever the case, Pietro thought you were cute as could be. You didn’t remember how you got to Westview, or where you even came from. One day, you woke up in town, and found yourself wearing unfamiliar clothes. Threads evocative of decades long past. But hey, it happens to the best of us. Pietro was well-acquainted with feelings of confusion and alienation. That mingled sense of being both lost, and born anew.

For crying out loud, he was the very materialization of sapient awareness itself. Agnes forbade him from that knowledge as well. But again, Pietro credited his oopsies and ding-dongs to her shoddy miracle work.

Whenever you questioned the reality around you, the world only stifled you into silence. The everyday citizens of Westview seemed so content with life as it was. Acting as if you had nothing to worry about. Wanda’s sitcom setup was nothing beyond sunshine, rainbows, and television tropes. But Pietro could see the unspoken terror hidden deep in their eyes. The truth Wanda kept hush hush.

Just thinking about it was enough to give Pietro the heebie jeebies. And if his intuition was anything to go by - it never proved him wrong yet - you had a bad feeling about Westview too. Way to go! You caught on even quicker than he did. Which was kinda nuts, if he thought about it. Wasn’t he supposed to be the fastest at everything? ‘Cuz speed was his middle name or something. Or…well, it wasn’t. But it could be. Who’s to stop him from seizing his own destiny at this point?

Pietro Speed Maximoff.

Eh, maybe not.

In Westview, you had no friends or family. And much like Pietro, on Halloween night; you found yourself at the bar. He caught your curious gaze from down the counter. You were dolled up in a scanty, witch's dress, leaving Pietro to wonder why witches were such a recurring theme in his life. Looking too much like a manchild goober, he spun around a few more times in his seat. His sneakers kicked against the stool’s railing. No matter what, he couldn’t sit still. He thought he might be embarrassing himself. But his antics appeared to make you smile even brighter.

Tilting your head, you shot him a look of familiarity.

You weren’t familiar with him, though. But there was a chance you saw him appearing and disappearing around town. During his impromptu stake outs, more than likely.

Bringing your drink to the seam of your lips, you stifled a playful giggle. It was obvious you were gawking at his costume. Arching a brow, Pietro grinned into the rim of his beer bottle. To be fair, he looked supremely ridiculous. The blue tights under his cut-off jean shorts rode up in the crotch a little too much. He dipped his head, staring at the frayed edges of his shorts. Yeah. It was clear he did the job cutting them himself. A hasty one too. Since he was too eager to pull pranks with his nephews.

Damn. Pietro missed those kids like hell already.

The dirty blond hair/ear-things atop his head bounced every time he knocked his neck back. As Pietro downed yet another beer, he lost track of how many he drank. A dribble of it plummeted into silver. Creating a sheen against the lightning bolt duct taped diagonally down his shirt. Pietro sighed and pursed his lips. 

His outfit was an all blue ensemble. Garnished with a spritz of silver here or there. Quicksilver. His hero name, apparently. Pietro knew he’d never live up to it.

A bit of friendly conversation later, and the air between the two of you shifted. Your playful look morphed into something a little wanton, the more Pietro acted in silly ways. Holy shit. Seriously? He hoped he wasn't misreading your signals. Because really, your attraction was too good to be true. If you honestly wanted him, where should he proceed from here? How much freedom had Agnes even allowed him? And furthermore - if Wanda’s happy, dream town ran on a curated schedule; what if credits rolled just as the two of you finally got handsy?

Maybe sitcom rules didn’t apply to conscious manifestations of witch hocus pocus? Wishful thinking on his part.

Outside the bar - in an alleyway too uncannily clean, like a set straight out of Hollywood - Pietro beckoned you in with kisses. Technically, he played the role of Agnes’s deadbeat husband. And if that were the case, did kissing you count as cheating? Shit…was Pietro committing adultery right now?? In the midst of macking on your sweet lips, he pressed a palm to the wall next to your head. Pietro pretended to do so for balance, as he devoured you with his mouth and tongue. 

But unbeknownst to you, he cracked an eye open. Just to double check for a wedding band.

Nothing there to prove he ever got hitched. Go figure.

You giggled coyly into his lips, letting a soft moan ease through your teeth. Bringing your hands up to the hair/ear-things on his head, you toyed with them. Your pretty voice teased him, as you played with his hair in gentle strokes of your thumbs.

“Ooooh…such a good boy, huh? Fast too.” You cooed, the same way one might praise a puppy.

Oh. Fuck yeah. To hell with sitcom tropes and bogus wives. Agnes scared the ever-loving shit out of Pietro anyway. He had no semblance of a domestic connection to her. Not that she gave much of a damn herself. With how often she threw insults his way. Agnes always used Ralph as her little punching bag, before hijacking his body for her own gain.

No wonder your simple praises got his proverbial tail wagging.

A chuckle hummed in the back of his throat, as Pietro purred into your lips, “Speed’s kinda my middle name, y’know?”

You snorted one of the dorkiest laughs he’d heard since cognisant birth. And with a sudden spark of primal urgency; Pietro felt something else spring into transcendence down below. 

Sifting through Ralph’s sidelined psyche, Pietro came to realize how much of a recluse he was. The guy never seemed to get out much. In fact, Agnes might’ve even been his first partner. If one could classify her as such. So, really, Pietro was doing him a major favor. If Ralph knew he planned on using their body for some frisky fun - on an otherwise lonely Hallow’s eve - surely, he’d give his brain roomie some thanks.

Pietro’s hands were vascular like a wired-up machine, clad in arm-warmer paws. Grabbing hard onto your curvy hips with them, he pulled you in closer. He sought the friction of your crotch against his. And after some seriously sloppy making out, Pietro dropped you an invite to his place.

Or…Agnes’s place.

Uh…or…was it technically Ralph’s? Shit, this sitcom roleplay sure gave way to some mental gymnastics.

You didn’t expect Pietro to zip you off at superspeed. Moving abruptly fast, he brought you straight to his disaster of a man cave. Laying you back on the futon, he gave you little time to adjust over the blankets. The wrinkled fabrics reeked of pot, in desperate need of a wash. You got as comfy as you could on the skunky sheets. Blinking your needy gaze up at him, you tugged his white belt, pulling the band undone. Pietro grinned lazily, colliding his swollen lips into yours. His primal instincts left him wreckless with want. 

Burying his tongue in the cavern of your mouth, he brought with him the flavor of cheap booze. As you tasted him, you moaned, shucking his dumb jorts down his hips. A sizable swelling twitched in his tights, squirming under muted blue. Your eyes bulged in their sockets, cartoonishly wide. The way you whirled your tongue across your lip gave off a vibe of animalistic hunger. As though you were eager for an all dick dinner. With Pietro as the appetizer.

And the main course. And the dessert. He hoped you'd rate him five stars.

Restaurant metaphors aside; this was the very first test of his capabilities as a lover, after all. If he couldn’t live up to his superhero name, maybe he could make a name for himself in other ways.

Pietro Speed Maximoff. Quicksilver. Cunning Linguist.

But first…he really should satiate your hunger.

One, generous tug downward, and Pietro’s - or Ralph’s - slightly above average length sprang out. Bouncing in your face in mesmerizing oscillation, his cock appeared pulsating and roused. Thick veins weaved like threads through his shaft, akin to his vascular hands. His balls bulged in his tights, his jorts hanging halfway down his thighs. Pietro took his blistering cock in hand. Aching for the kind of stimulation Ralph never got, his desire painted him so flush and ruby red. 

Since you looked so delighted at the sight before you; Pietro gave his cock a few strokes. He played with himself for your viewing pleasure. And as his firm grip tugged his shaft, the world pulled suddenly back. It was as though Pietro viewed life through a third person perspective. Metaphorical cameras fixed their lenses on the two of you, in an all too human position of closeness. 

The weight of a cock in Pietro’s hand felt both familiar, yet weirdly foreign. Combine that with the sight of another living, breathing body below him; and his nerves buzzed uncomfortably. Frenzied in such a way that matched the quick pulsing of his heart. Focusing instead on your fluttering eyes, Pietro weaned himself out of dissociation. Your hands braced his hips, thumbs circling the fabric of his tights. The gentle gesture brought chills throughout his body. Inching forward, you teased his bobbing cock with a flick of your tongue.

Wet heat grounded him in reality. Upon racing to the forefront of his own mind; Pietro’s breath hitched with a husky groan. He held your head, massaging his fingers in your soft hair. Cute mewls spilled from your lips as you flitted your eyes shut. Swirling your tongue over his cock’s puffy head, you lapped any tearful pearls of precum. His thickness sank between your plush lips, and Pietro’s own lips parted for breath.

Of all things to happen on Halloween night, getting his dick sucked wasn’t on the docket.

Not that Pietro had any reason to complain. This? Wicked awesome. Ralph was really missing out.

You drew lazily back just to lap his balls over his tights, staining fabric with slick saliva. Rolling the tip of your tongue up the underside of his dick, you giggled in that dorkish way again. Pietro’s teeth pulled his lip as he tilted his head back. His dick twitched, throbbing while the heat of your mouth embraced him fully. He moaned, smiling wide enough to show off his dimples. You pumped his cock at the base, teasing his veins with your tongue.

Pietro’s brows turned inward. You suckled his head like you longed to guzzle anything he could give. He sank his fingers deeper through your hair, holding on tightly as he rutted his hips. With each slam of his weeping tip into your throat; he hoarsely grunted. You really did try your best, just for him. Even as tears spilled down your cheeks and your lips began to swell. Plush and puffy, circling his slick length. Pietro kicked up the speed at which he rutted.

Fighting his instincts, he was cautious enough not to choke you. Or, he wanted to be cautious. He braced his hands on both sides of your tear stained face, his arm warmer paws soft against your cheeks. Sinking his dick even deeper between your lips, he accidentally went balls deep. The wet fabric of his tights smothered your chin. You sputtered on his cock, which made your throat wring him so tight. As your tongue curled, sliding under the thrum of his veins; Pietro cursed. Playful chuckles and shameful apologies fell from his lips.

Bitter heat coated your tongue in sweltering jets, thick and explosive down your throat. Pietro’s groin twisted in a blossoming surge of pleasure. And as he ruptured your esophagus with his sticky load, he found himself that much more grounded. As if such a bombastic nut somehow tethered him to reality - securing Pietro from any further derealization. 

Righteous. His first big O since Agnes blessed him with the gift of consciousness. Significantly more electrifying than any sad, jerk sesh Ralph had in the past. And since you so humbly took him like a champ - giving Pietro a most euphoric experience; he saw it fit to return the favor ASAP.

Neither Pietro - nor Ralph, it seemed - had any experience toying around with partners. But he did have a vague knowledge of how to do so. Thanks to the backlog of not-so-safe-for-work memories deep in his subconscious. Raunchy porn, mostly. Magazines. Tapes. Jesus, Ralph…why’s there so much dirty stuff in there, huh? Lots and lots of it. Pietro would have to do his own research later.

He gave you no time to prep for his oncoming nose dive. Perched on your knees, coughing and clearing your throat - you found yourself abruptly resting on your elbows. Your upper back pressed into the futon. Pietro lifted your hips, using his strength to hike your thighs over his broad shoulders. As you parted your swollen lips to protest, blinking your reddened eyes; Pietro pulled your panties to the side. He kept the soaked lace pinned under a thick thumb. Burying his lips in your cunt, he lapped up your honeyed heat.

A sudden addiction, triggered by something carnal, overtook him instantly. Pietro became hooked on your fragrant flavor, swirling your cute bud in high-speed circles. He worked your stiff clit like a microscopic joystick, flicking wet heat in a spastic whirlwind. Alternating between drawing patterns, and sucking your precious pearl hard. Pietro so easily made you squeal - even without any prior experience - until you scratched your fingernails deep into Ralph’s sheets. Kissing your cunt, he let his thirst take over, and dove deeper.

The tune of his name melting through your moans made him wish the night would last forever. A small fraction of him hoped Ralph would never take over again. If consciousness offered rewards this scrumptious, Pietro wanted to stay sentient into eternity. Not to be selfish or whatever, but he almost considered playing minion for Agnes again - if only to secure the lifespan of his psyche.

Your supple, pussy lips parted as he wormed his tongue through your slick walls. Smooth, bumpy heat squeezed the fuzzy ridges of his tongue. In milliseconds, your fluttery love gushed over his taste buds and leaked down his chin. Tears teased the edges of your eyes. You cried whines of sugary bliss. Pietro’s thumb kept your panties pinned, his other hand locked around your thigh.

He smirked into your pussy, deep chuckles burning hot on your mound. And since the position wasn’t exactly the most comfortable; he allowed you some reprieve. Pushing you past your breaking point at light speed, Pietro bashed the sopping slickness of his tongue into your clit. You trembled, shuddering through powerful waves of orgasmic intensity. White-hot flashes of light flooded your vision. Under Pietro’s zippy tongue, your sweet pussy quivered.

Totes mcgoats. If he learned anything tonight - aside from the obvious lessons in subtlety; Pietro now understood why the everyday man lost his doggone marbles over puss.

After your first release, he eased your tired body into the futon. Your back met cozy blankets, engulfed in that skunk weed scent. Before you relaxed, he edged you even longer, drawing out your pleasurable suffering. Pietro sank his fingers deep into your heat, pumping the length of them inside you. His digits curled perfectly, finding every spongy spot that made your core burst with a desire to cum again. His tongue teased your swollen nub until you grabbed at his hair. You mussed the funny looking ear things atop his head, pressing your palm into his forehead to try and push him back.

You begged him to stop. Pleading in disoriented whimpers, your noises went straight to his limp dick. A few more hot, wrathful waves of pleasure later - he finally stopped. Only after your cunt erupted in one more, wet burst. You leaked like a fountain into his lips, soaking his chin, even making a mess of his makeshift costume. More than worth it. Pietro sat up on the futon, admiring his handiwork. He wiped his mouth with one of his arm warmer paws. Your mouth fell agape as your lungs begged for air. More tears sparkled on your flushed cheeks, mirroring the twinkle of your pussy. Pretty as a rose in a rainshower.

With your sluggish arms, you gestured for Pietro to climb over you. And once he did, you pulled him into a lazy kiss without a single care. You paid no mind to the taste of your sweetness on his lips, or the scent of your musk on his chin. Sleepily blinking, you bravely asked if you could stay the night. Too tuckered out to even consider a long walk back home.

Pietro could just as easily speed you over to your place. But even at the risk of his not-wife catching him in bed with someone else - he felt too adverse to loneliness. Besides...your company brought him more delight than he ever expected of anyone. Settling into the futon, he popped on Ralph’s old TV set.

Cheers was on. Pietro snickered to himself, rolling his dark eyes.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, snuggled up against Pietro’s strong form. He’d changed clothes at some point in the night, finally foregoing the tights. Oh, and he lended you one of Ralph’s shirts too. A Grateful Dead t-shirt, of which you were very grateful. Hah, “You don’t like Cheers?”

Pietro shrugged, sipping a beer. A Busch beer. He scowled at the taste, curling his lip.

“Eh. More of a Frasier kinda guy.”

#peter maximoff x y/n #peter maximoff x you #peter maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff x you #peter maximoff #pietro maximoff #wandavision #txt #sorry for dropping this in the main tags !!

[cobaltsunflower]

Lotsa thoughts in the house tonight

Should i make a separate blog for stuckpiece? I don’t think talking about it on duck(verb) or here is really appropriate since no one cares about it anyway

Can someone please teach me how to put picture on ao3??? And how do ppl do the cool formatting stuffs???

I think i have a lot of bots followers on this main blog so it pushes the number wayyyy too high. Block or no? Tbh it’s too much to bother by now

Cool one piece artists why are you following me?!?!?!? Specially this main blog?!?!? I offer nothing of value besides reblogs and only draws indulgent buggy and crossovers that no one cares for anyway you are making me self conscious please

HOLY FUCKING SHIT THERE’S A COCKROACH HALF A METER AWAY FROM ME AS I TYPE THIS FFUUUUUCCCCCKKKKKK

FUCK RAINY WEATHERS FUCK STORMS FUCK COCKROACHES PLEASE YOU DON’T SEE ME MOVE ALONG PLEASE

Ok calm *Calm* i think it’s stationary

Should i post in vnmese? I won’t have anything better to say but at least swearing would be more satisfying eh. Would serve to make my blog even less approachable i believe

Planned to do so many things in this semester break. Ended up w executive dysfunction and doing nothing. Still want to draw, write down stuckpiece, pick up italian again, finish 2 books i borrowed from the library,... no where with anything yet

Sometimes i feel like me being overenthusiastic is pretty cringe maybe. Im always too eager to chat and answers questions for one piece newbies honestly i just want to make some friends. But i think i’m so cringe.

Maybe i’m not and it’s just a depressive episode from this fucked weather and loneliness. I can’t really talk to my friends about much due to difference in interests and one of them is spiraling in depression that I cannot help and it honestly makes me depressed too every time it came up

If i do an art trade with another artist, do we both post our pieces up and tag the other? Is there a consensus or assumed understanding to post or no? I approached the other artist a bit too abruptly and now I’m embarrassed to ask about posting since it feels like i’m asking to use their name for attention, since for real I wasn’t and was just excited for art motivation. It has been a week and I haven’t post it, would posting/asking permission to post now be too weird?

Should go to sleep now it’s late

#rant #nonsense

[squidult]

its been a long time since i made an entry into this tag, eh? im happy for that. i dont really have anything to add rn bc life is pretty good and im learning lotsa things, and while this tag can also be for positive emotions i just. dont really feel like writing stuff down rn and thats okay. hopefully it stays that way, or the next time i do make an entry in this tag its another like this!

#emotional journaling #to future me who is going through this tag: *gives you a hug and some mac n cheese if u want it*

[coup-de-blues]

Music Tag

I was tagged by @rogers-johncar & @killeerrqueenn Thank you darlings ^^

Rules: Put your entire music library on shuffle and list the first ten songs, then tag.

Tank! - Cowboy Bebop

Queen - The Show Must Go On

TEN - New Heroes

Bob Seger - Old Time Rock n’ Roll

Eric Nam - Can’t Help Myself

Monsta X - Special

BTOB - About Time

Jessi - Gucci

SNSD - Catch Me If You Can

Pixies - Where Is My Mind?

I’m tagging @blitchen @corgoship007 @your-basket-case and @mercurytaylordeaconmayy ^^

#good summary of majority of the music on my phone tbh #lotsa kpop #and rock kinda balancing out #day6 is missing but eh #nille talks #tag game

[mys-tia]

when you get this you have to answer with 5 things u like about yourself, publicly. then, send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers (non-negotiable, positivity is cool) ♡

Hımm, five things eh?

-i like my rock and minerals collection, its getting pretty big by now(✿^‿^)

-i like my little workstation i have made, i have been wanting it for a while now. Complete with drills and the welding machine. ( /^ω^)/♪♪

-im like a crow, loving interesting and shiny things, i collect em all and keep em in little glass cups. Ranging from buttons and shells to circuit boards to animal figurines and bracelets.

-like how i dyed all my hair purple, that took lotsa courage for me (*´ω｀*)

-i like how i can keep going in uni, though Med is hard and with the pandemic its even harder BuT im gonna go thorough it! (✷‿✷)

Thanks for tagging me mirror! İt was fun to do! Now to find people i like,hımmm, too bad i cant send it to you back, now that would be a easy choice(｢`･ω･)｢

#ask game #long post #mys talks

[kingdomofsummer]

Sorry for the confusion, my dude. Locker room reference was my way of saying Carlos in tighty-whities looks buff, no passive-aggressive. Your smooth-muscular bod is what I call a swimmer's body. Thanks for letting me clear this up. Also, I have lotsa fun seeing your bottom-tagged comments that come with your answers. Our convo's fun for me when it's fun for you, so getting along is xxx ooo, eh?

I think I had a second stroke

#I’m glad you’re enjoying the tags though #it’s truly just me talking to myself #and my AU gays #they know who they are #plus #gotta give the occasional shout out to Romy #because he’s obsessed with me #and John #because he’s pure and I love him #uwu

[lunarpanda]

OK OK I was gonna complain about this in the tags of the last reblog but I’m just gonna make it it’s own post.

I’m gonna put it under the cut because I’m getting super ranty. Anyways weather rant bs below lol

So I got the entire “take a look back at what happened last year” bs you get from your computer right? It was really nice and snowy this time around last year, just like that picture.

But here we are, December again and it has barely snowed. It snowed on Thanksgiving for a little bit and it dusted last week but that’s it. And I’m seeing next week that it’s not gonna snow and we’re gonna get a bunch of rain.

And that fucking pisses me off so much. I love winter, I love snow. But you can’t have a good winter without snow. Now, if I was in the south or something, then yeah, sure, I’ll take the rain, sure, rain would be prolly normal. But no, I live in Ohio, so you know, it should be actually cold, it should actually snow. But no, it’s gonna be in the 60′s on Thursday and it’s so stupid.

This shouldn’t be a big deal, I mean it’s just the weather right? Who cares, but still it’s so annoying that my most favorite season is just getting replaced by shittier version of fall. 

But I guess I should also be fine with the rain. Rain might get rid of the snow, but at least it blocks out that GOD DAMN SUN.

The sun??? The winter sun??? I fucking hate it. It’s so goddamn bright... tone it the fuck down. There’s a reason I got blackout curtains for my room and it’s because of this shit. And I also really hate everyone being like “oh! It’s so nice out, the sun is shining, yay~” like NO! It’s DECEMBER!!!! We’re supposed to have SNOW HERE!!!! You want the sun? Go to Florida, go to Arizona, go to the desert. The sun has had its season, give me my season now. 

The sun also highlights how fucking ugly it is out here without any snow. I assume maybe in the city it’s like “who cares, everything is the same, all concrete anyways” like OK, fair enough. I live near a forest so all I get is brown grass, brown trees, twigs and mud and it is UGLY. It’s wayyyy better when there’s snow on the ground covering all that shit up. 

I think lotsa people forget that having no snow or anything like that and it being constantly warm is not normal. Like... snow is good for a reason besides just looking pretty. Again, the grass wouldn’t be so brown and dried out if there was snow covering it. The wildflowers wouldn’t try and spring up too early and die after another cold snap. Also no bugs. Just no bugs. (I don’t personally hate bugs but it gets annoying finding a stink bug in your room at 3 AM)

I also hate the losers that are all like “oh, well, you don’t go anywhere, I bet you just stay inside all the time and you don’t have to shovel or anything” like shut up dude. Sure, I don’t have to shovel, what the fuck ever. 

Eh I kinda ran outta steam but still. fucking hate this mild winter we’ve been having lately. I’m hoping it turns around because it’s technically not winter until the 21st but still.... it’s crimmus, I want me some crimmus snow... and then snow until like March.

#Mika shushup #Here I am ranting about the weather like a loser lol. #TLDR: I like snow give me my snow.

[antpelts]

beep tagged me so i gotta [rolling eyes] /lh

why did you choose your url?

warrior cats naturally lskjkldsf i got attached to antpelt and added an "s" and voila.. url

any side blogs? if you have them, name them and why you have them

rando vent sideblog i dont use a ton always and a blog to reblog chain posts to since they are really bad on my ocd symptoms and then i have some saved urls ;P

how long have you been on tumblr?

idk.. 2012? 2013? prolly more like 2013? i was like 12 when i made it tho.. same blog tho been on this bitch for a minute tho i delete old stuff now n again when i get the time to clean it up

do you have a queue tag?

its just "q" i used to have one but eh its easier like this. one i remember having was "red vs queue" tho heh

why did you start your blog in the first place?

i watched an anime and really liked one of the dudes and looked him up and found a ton of rp blogs for characters from it.. so i was aware of tumblr and made one then i believe? i just looked at content for anime character ships and homest/ck ships despite not really being into anime fully or hs fully either. i just liked guys and was at the time coming into the thought of being a guy attracted to guys.. jokes on me now im [static]--

why did you choose your icon/pfp?

made matching ones for me n gf freshman year of college. heres is mirrored with inverted colors i thought it was silly and im attached

why did you choose your header?

had to double check what it was hah. idk clouds on light blue has been a thing for me my whole life kinda and it was pretty-- edit not long after posting this an artist i like did a req to draw my wc oc so its that now kljdfklgfd

what’s your post with the most notes?

shrugs probably some old rvb edit

how many followers do you have?

813 :'0 prolly lotsa old accumulated and not active anymore

how many people do you follow?

553 but again a ton are prolly inactive

have you made a shitpost?

prolly old weird shit when i was younger hah

how do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ post?

horrible. makes my brain issues bad with guilt and i have issues with things seeming performative

do you like tag games?

yehyeh sometimes to tired to do em but i like being thought of

do you like ask games?

yes.. no one sends in enough for me i like talking

which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

shrugs idk the metric for famous i just have friends on here n dont overthink

do you have a crush on a tumblr mutual?

[flushed] lmao requited romantic and platonic crushes on my gf & qpp

tagging.. no one if you wanna do it go for it im just bad at taggin ppl <3

#evan.txt #tag game #long post #q

[keelywolfe]

Drabble: Hot and Cold (baon)

Summary: It’s hoooooot outside. That’s all I’ve got.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Fluff, Teeny Angst, Chickens!!

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Read it on AO3

or

Read it Here!

~~*~~

It was too hot outside.

There was no way around it. No jokes about if it was hot enough for you or do you like your weather hot or hotter could make Stretch crack a smile, but the temperature was more than enough for him to break a sweat.

Sprawled out in one of the backyard lounge chairs, Stretch swabbed listlessly at his sweaty face with an already dampened cloth.

Sure, he could go inside where the air conditioning lived but please, that would take away from his valuable time bitching about the heat. Besides, they’d come all the way to the surface to see the damn sun and Stretch was gonna see it, even on days where he could cook an egg inside his own rib cage.

Speaking of eggs, even the ladies were falling prey to the rising temperatures.

They were determined to stay outside with him and hadn’t abandoned him for the cooler climes of their coop yet. All three of them were firmly settled in the shade, folded down to the ground like melted puddles of feathers.

Heh. Boneless chickens.

The sliding glass door opened and Stretch looked over his sunglasses to see Edge coming out with a tray. He was actually wearing shorts and that had to be one of the true signs of the apocalypse; even the Edgelord was giving in to the heat.

Was it worth risking his life to get a picture for his Instagram of The Feet in those stylish sandals? On one hand, lotsa likes; his baby’s feet pictures were the stuff of legends and myth, the only proof of his existence. On the other, Edge kicking him out of the bedroom to sleep on the sofa when he saw it, decisions, decisions…

Maybe better to let it go for now because refreshment was on its way. Stretch struggled to sit up, already anticipating whatever cold drink awaited him on the tray. He could almost taste it. There were no flavor-aid days for his baby, you could bet your ass on that. Edge squeezed his own lemonade, thanks, loved up those citrusy goddesses until they gave up the juice and mixed it with the perfect ratio of sugar and water before topping it was a sprig of mint. Or maybe it was iced tea, fresh brewed, and he always made a jug of sweetened and unsweetened, so they could both enjoy it.

Ooooh, or if he was inspired, sometimes Edge would drag out the blender and those were the best days, whirled up drinks with frozen berries and peaches like it was a brand new kind of magic.

He was practically drooling by the time Edge got to him, ready with the grabby hands.

Which was why it was a sad, sad surprise that Edge kept walking, right past him over to the chickens. He knelt down and all three of those brats fluffed up their feathers, all ready to flirt with their favorite person. Who was setting out blocky little cubes into the grass for the them to cluck over excitedly.

“It’s corn frozen in ice,” Edge called. Probably because Stretch was looking at him with the utmost betrayal. “If they insist on sitting out here with you in this inferno, then this will help them from getting overheated.”

Oh.

Oh, right, well, that was a pretty good idea. Wasn’t like Stretch couldn’t get off his tailbone and get his own drink, seriously, like Edge didn’t cook for him all the time? Or, let’s be honest, do a hell of a lot more than his share of housework because he had a particular way of doing things and he’d let Stretch do laundry and dishes most times, but cleaning the bathroom? Nope, that was skilled labor in Edge’s mind and the best thing Stretch could do was try to keep his messes to a minimum.

Honestly, it was pretty fucking selfish of him to think Edge needed to bring him a damn drink when he could get his own and—

The clink of ice cubes dragged him out of that downwards spiral and he blinked to see a glass of lemonade on his little table, dripping condensation with that jaunty sprig of mint right on top.

“Here you are, brat,” Edge pushed back Stretch’s hat and dropped a light kiss on top of his skull before letting the hat fall back down over his face. “I didn’t forget you.”

Empty tray in hand, Edge started to walk away and Stretch scrambled to push his hat back, grabbing at the hem of his shorts. For once, he didn’t even leer at the way it pulled them down a little on his pelvis. Edge stopped, looking down with an arched brow bone. “Did you need something else?”

“do i ever tell you how much i appreciate you?” Stretch told him. His smile felt a little forced, sitting wrong on his face, but he needed to know.

It was a safe bet that the amount of people who got to see that softness fall over Edge’s face could be counted on one hand, even one missing fingers. The lounger listed dangerously to one side as Edge sat down next to him, balancing out when he swooped down to kiss Stretch with gentle warmth.

“More often than you think you do,” Edge assured him when he drew away. “And in many ways. I can see the wheels squeaking in your head, don’t for one moment think that spoiling you is anything but a joy for me. I like doing it or I wouldn’t, I’m sure you can believe that.”

Okay, yeah, that was a fact and a half, wasn’t it.

“none of my wheels squeak,” Stretch tried for jaunty but eh, if his voice was a little on the wobbly side better to hide it with another kiss, right? “then again, squeaky wheels get greased and you’re more than welcome to grease my—“

“You can stop there or no part of you will be greased anytime soon,” Edge said dryly. He tweaked Stretch’s nasal bone lightly with his knuckles then managed to stand without dumping Stretch out of his chair.

It was only when he disappeared back inside that Stretch realized he’d forgotten to take a picture of his sandals.

Eh, win some, lose some.

A sip of the lemonade put this firmly on the side of winner-winner-no-chickens-for-dinner. Sweet and tart, and come to think of it, Stretch wasn’t sure Edge even liked lemonade.

Some days Stretch wasn’t even sure why Edge liked him. Didn’t matter; he liked lemonade and Edge, and he was keeping ‘em both.

-finis-

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

[rebelmeg]

Author Meme!

I was tagged by the cutest ever @weethreequarter!  Thanks, doll!

Author Name: rebelmeg

Fandoms you write for: Nearly exclusively for the MCU.  I’ve done a couple for the Harry Potter fandom, just the one is posted, and like one fic for a couple other fandoms, but not posted.

Where you post: AO3, and I share to Tumblr

Most popular oneshot: SI Internship Team -  Tony's got two good kids spinning great ideas in his lab on a regular basis. It was inevitable that he took their research and efforts a step further.  (Gen, Tony & his Science sons, no romantic pairing, 4004 words)

Most popular multi-chapter fic: How To Save A Life (It Just Might Be Yours) - The Winter Soldier is sent on a mission, to take out the head of Stark Industries. There isn't supposed to be anyone else there, but the Asset is used to adapting in order to accomplish his mission... until he lays eyes on the baby in the backseat of the car.  On the run with a baby in tow, the Asset's conditioning breaks down, his humanity returns, and it's hard to tell who saves whose life as the years go by and James raises Tony as his own son.  (Teen, Dad Bucky & Kid Tony, 23,037 words)

Favorite story you wrote: I CANNOT CHOOSE BETWEEN MY BABIES.  So here, have the next three most popular ones.

Iron Savior -  The universe needs Iron Man. But Morgan Stark also needs her dad. You think the daughter of the most brilliant mind of his generation is gonna do anything less than save him?  (Gen, Tony & Morgan, background Pepperony, 1320 words)

Coming Home -  An offhand comment from Tony gives JARVIS a protocol to follow that he didn't intend.  (Gen, Tony & JARVIS, 1203 words)

Endless Suffering In Silence - Tony is involved in an accident that renders him mute. His recovery and struggles with coping are accompanied by friends old and new.  (Gen, no pairing, 6183)

Story you were nervous to post:

The unspecified romantic partner thing made me nervous with this one.  I knew it wouldn’t get much attention simply because if people are searching for a ship with Bucky, this would never pop up.

Don't Sit Under the Apple Tree (With Anyone Else But Me) - A letter from Bucky to his love back home during the war.  (Gen, Bucky/Unspecified Romantic Partner, 477)

I got impatient to finish this one, so it’s an odd mishmash of moodboards and little vignettes that read like headcanons, more than a story.  I still like it, but I worry I could have done it better.

Flowershop Row - A little sidestreet in New York offers up a kooky variety of just about any kind of flora you could possibly want, with all the character that a bunch of shop owners could possibly have.  (Gen, no pairing, 2220, lotsa moodboards)

How do you choose your titles: Eh, it depends.  I like it when I can skim the fic and a certain phrase will jump out at me, like, “Yep, that’s the one, that’s the title.”  Sometimes I have a title in mind before I start writing.  If I get stumped, I’ll try googling the theme of the fic, and see what comes up in quotes and such, see if I get a spark there.

Do you outline: In a disorganized way, yeah.  Sometimes I’ll write out a thing, a basic plot, and put it at the beginning of the fic so I know where it’s going.  I leave notes throughout, usually between asterisks so I can distinguish them easy.

Complete: I have 119 completed fics on AO3!

In Progress: WIPs that have their own Word document (meaning they are at least one full page of writing, single spaced), I have 59.  Oh, and.... 4 collabs, I believe.  A couple of which are close to being done!

Coming soon/Not yet started: I have a Word document specifically for bits and pieces that are either little snippets, dialogue exchanges, or anything short enough that it doesn’t get its own Word doc.  That whole doc, including the MCU timeline at the end, is over 25k.  Which is absurd, but there ya go.

Do you accept prompts: I LOVE prompts, but I can take a long time to get to them.  I’ve got so many screenshots and stuff on my computer that I’ve gotten just from comments on my fics, ideas for other fics or continuing a story or such.  And I have every intention of doing all of them, but I know it could take years.

Upcoming story you are most excited to write: My IMBB fic has been a rollercoaster to write, I’m way excited to finish that!  Another Endgame fix-it that’s quite a bit longer than the other ones.  A meet-cute with Tony and Rhodey meeting Maria and Carol, that one is super cute and fun.  All my collabs!  A few AUs that came outta nowhere and are super fun.

I’m not sure who to tag, so let’s just say that if you see this and wanna play, CONSIDER YOURSELF TAGGED!  Yes, I’m being serious!  Even if I don’t know you!

#author tag game #author meme #tag game #about me #rebelmeg's fanfic

[alleiradayne]

Head Over Feet

Summary: Dean and Y/N have been best friends since high school. Square Filled: Friends to Lovers Warnings/Tags: Lotsa floofs, implied smut at the end Characters/Pairings: Dean Winchester/Reader Word Count: 1,939 A/N:  For @spnfluffbingo2019, this is my second square. It also fulfills this week’s @supernatural-jackles weekly writing challenge with the line, “Sorry, I thought I was alone”. Song: Head Over Feet by Alanis Morissette

“On your six!”

Gunfire rained down in a shower of casings as she ducked beneath his arm. Half a magazine emptied into the vampire, and it dropped to the floor, incapacitated for the moment.

“Y/N, look out!”

She whipped around as Dean’s machete arched through the air in a mighty swing and decapitated what must have been the twentieth vampire in the nest. The tight quarters of the house had stemmed the flow bloodsuckers, attacking only in groups of twos and threes. Dean breathed a wordless sigh of thanks for that. They had needed a break. And after a month of searching, they’d finally found it.

“You okay?” Dean asked as he neared her. “Shit, I got blood all over you.”

She wiped her face with her sleeve only to smear the dark blood across her pale cheek. “Eh, I’m good. Probably got my fair share on you, too,” she said with a bright giggle.

For the fifth time in as few days, Dean nearly fucked up. His hand twitched as he stepped near her, only to resist the urge to touch her at the last second. The first time, he'd almost kissed her. That had been months ago. The past week had been excruciatingly painful, tiny motel quarters, fitted FBI suits, revealing outfits at the bar, and fighting side by side. But none of that mattered. Y/N was his best friend. His feelings for her did not matter.

“Dean?”

Her clear, bright voice returned him to the present. “Yeah, let’s get going.”

As he followed her out of the house and to the car, Dean cursed under his breath. A nervous hand ran through his hair as he stomped down the gravel driveway, and the driver’s door of the Impala swung wide when he wrenched the handle. What was he going to do? His thoughts wandered as he slumped onto the bench seat behind the wheel and paused. With a shake of his head, he stabbed the keys into the ignition and started the car.

“You okay?”

The ache in his chest damn near ripped him apart. He could hardly look her in the eye. If he did, he might say something. He might tell her the truth, that he loved her, loved her big brain, her smile, her perfect voice, her terrible dancing, her stubborn willpower, her mean left hook. And yeah, sure. She had a great ass. Toss that on the list, too. Might as well go the whole six feet while he was digging.

With a stiff upper lip, Dean turned to her and nodded. “Yeah, I’m good. Let’s go get some sleep.”

The walls of their too-small motel encroached as Y/N lay on her bed and stared at the ceiling. Her toiletries bag sat on her stomach, held in both hands as she waited her turn for the bathroom. When the door opened, Dean motioned her in with a nod of his head, toothbrush in his mouth. And damn him, he stood there in his t-shirt and boxer briefs as if she were family.

In a way she was. Best friends since the last high school Dean had ever attended, they’d seen their fair share of action together. Oh, and that night, all those years ago, when he had saved her ass? Yeah, that had been one for the record books. Her mom had kicked him out that night. When Y/N had found him the next day trying to hustle a couple classmates for bus fair, she gave him a ride across town.

But instead of dropping him off at the train station, she had left with him.

She shook off the memory with a grunt, swung her feet over the bed and stood. Everything had changed since then. Twenty years later, and they were still best friends. Dean’s brother, Sam, had returned to the fold a few years after high school. The three of them had been thick as thieves ever since.

When she headed for the bathroom, she glanced at Dean, and he smiled around his toothbrush. Better to not make things awkward, lest she tip her hand. She had done everything in her power to keep her silly infatuation to herself. And that was all it was. An infatuation. An infatuation with his ingenuity, with his big dumb smile, with his too green eyes, and dear lord, with his massive arms.

Dean leaned against the sink as she shuffled behind him and set her bag on the counter. When she held out her hand, he slapped the tube of toothpaste into it. From her bag she withdrew her brush, turned the water on, wetted it, and left the faucet running. Dean spit into the sink a second later, then filled a glass, took half into his mouth, and rinsed. Y/N brushed her teeth as she forced herself to look anywhere besides him, but that meant finding every flaw in the grout and caulk of the motel bathroom.

Dean set the half-full glass on the counter, spit into the sink again, and picked up the floss. It was as if they danced, Dean timed perfectly with Y/N following his steps. When she finished brushing, she rinsed with the remaining half of the glass while Dean flossed. He traded her the empty glass for the floss. Refilled, he rinsed once more, then set the half-full glass on the counter again and headed for bed. As always, Y/N used the second half of the glass to rinse, then flipped off the bathroom light.

She climbed into her tiny double bed, sheets cold against her bare legs, and curled into her extra pillow. At least they would head back to the Bunker in the morning. She could hide in her room for a day or two, and nobody would notice. Dean especially did not seem to care she would disappear for a while after a long hunt. He was probably sick of her after the last month on the road.

Within a few minutes, Dean began to snore. Good to know nothing kept him awake at night. It would take Y/N another hour to fall asleep. Maybe. If she were only so lucky.

Golden rays of late morning sun slanted across his face as Dean groaned. He rubbed one eye with the back of his hand as he awoke. Damn sun. He had wanted to sleep until they were kicked out. When he rolled over and found the other bed empty, he threw the covers aside and stood. Y/N would be back soon from her breakfast run, and she would want to get on the road right away.

With his pants and shirt on—possibly clean, he wasn’t sure, but at least they didn’t smell—he grabbed his bracelet from the bedside table only to find it broken.

“Shit.”

He thumbed the shredded clasp of his beaded bracelet as he slumped onto the end of the bed. It must have torn during the fight yesterday with the vampires. Not that he remembered snagging it. A bead rolled off the exposed end of the twine, and he caught it in his open palm.

Something about the coincidence sat strangely with him. He looked around the room, then spoke to no one in particular. “Are you trying to tell me something, Chuck?”

He glanced at the ceiling and felt more than a little ridiculous at the thought of talking aloud to a being that, as far as he knew, no longer existed in their universe. But, despite that, the need to get the words off his chest compelled him to continue. “What would I even say to her?”

A long-forgotten memory bubbled to the surface, fuzzy, muted, as though it belonged to someone else. Y/N handed him the beaded bracelet as she stood on the train platform with him, tears in her eyes. He had to meet back up with John and Sammy. He’d saved her. But in so doing, she had to live with the truth. And so, he had asked her to come with. School wasn’t much their thing anyway. Her hug had nearly broken a rib.

“I know she’s important to me,” Dean said to no one. Beads threatened to fall from the twine as he replaced the one that had fallen. “I guess I didn’t realize how important.”

John had been livid at first. But when Y/N proved her way around a rifle and gave Sam a run for his money with research, he got over it in a hurry.

“Dad never understood our friendship,” he continued. “Never understood why we were only friends.”

On the train, he had tried to give the bracelet back, but she had refused. Said she had made it for him. Might as well keep it. Too big for her wrist anyway.

“I know I love her,” he muttered as he rolled the beads between his thumb and forefinger. “I probably always did. But that scared me more than most things. I’ll never—”

The bathroom door cracked open and slowly revealed Y/N, eyes wide and mouth agape.

Dean flew from the bed and stuffed the bracelet in his pocket. “I uh… that was… sorry, I thought I was alone.”

“What did you just say?” she demanded.

Oh, fuck. “N-nothing… I was just… it was nothing.”

Her narrow glare scrutinized him as she approached. “No. You said it. I heard you.”

Christ. “I… okay, you know what?” he barked, “Fine! I love you. I love you, Y/N, and I don’t care if you don’t feel the same way, I love you, and that’s just—”

Several silent seconds passed before Dean caught up with reality. Y/N clung to him, and his arms had wrapped under her thighs after she had leapt to him. Her hands grasped his hair at the back of his head as her lips crushed his. Her legs squeezed his hips as he collapsed to the bed, and Y/N giggled into their earnest kiss.

Relief washed over him in that moment of clarity. He had been worried about nothing. He had feared ruining a good thing, but without any reason, without any proof. With Y/N in his arms, he realized then that he had been acting like a fool for months.

When she parted from him, shock slashed crimson across her nose and she tried to scramble off him. But quick as a cat, Dean wrapped her up in his arms and pinned her to his chest. “Hey, don’t go, that was really nice.”

She froze. “What?”

He bit his bottom lip and her eyes snapped to his mouth. “Kiss me again, sweetheart. I want to make sure I’m not just imagining this.”

Her lips landed on his and Dean could have wept. Softer than anything he had ever felt, he wanted nothing more than to kiss her forever. He all but melted beneath her as he held her tighter, loathe to ever let her go.

With a lewd pop, she parted from him, but her lips brushed against his as she spoke. “I love you, too.”

He couldn’t help but laugh. And she laughed with him, a sound so pure he vowed to hear it every day for the rest of his life. But then another thought occurred to him, and he checked his watch. “We’ve got half an hour before they’ll kick us out of the room. What do you say we get our money’s worth?”

A devious grin spread across her lips as she sat up, straddling his hips. “Show me what we’ve been missing out on, Dean.”

Tags: @atc74 @hannahindie @bevans87 @meganwinchester1999 @plaided-ani-on-hiatus @oneshoeshort @jonogueira @andkatiethings @elfinmox @wonderfulworldofwinchester @princessofthefandomrealm @just-another-busyfangirl @jmekitchens @81mysteriouslyme

Special Tags: @mapplestrudel

Reblogs and feedback are awesome. If you want in on the tags, send me an ask or a DM!

AlleiraDayne’s SPN Fluff Bingo

AlleiraDayne’s SPN Master List

#spnfluffbingo #spnfluffbingo2019 #Weekly Writing Challenge #AlleiraDayne writes #dean winchester/reader

[redxriiot]

Questions Addressed To Your Muse

tagged by: stole from a friend lmao  tagging: anyone who wants to do this!

▌What is your real name?  

          “Kirishima Eijirou.”

▌What is your /real/ name?

          “Uhh...it’s just that. I mean, I was almost named Eiichirou or Emilio though. And maybe I like hearing my name pronounced ‘Ei-hi-ro’ more often than otherwise, from my family, usually, but--”

▌Do you know why you were called that?

          “Eh...my paternal grandfather’s name was Ichirou and my maternal one was Eliseo, so I’m guessin’ that’s why, kinda a mix between the two. Maybe.”

▌Are you single or taken?

         “Assuming my childhood friend decided to cancel the engagement we had since we were kids? Heh, kidding. Single, totally.”

▌Have any abilities or powers?

         “Just a hardening Quirk. Bullshitting might be on that list tho’.”

▌What’s your eye color?

          “Red”

▌How about your hair color?

         “Black. Red.”

▌Have you any family members?

         “Many.”

▌Oh? What about pets?

          “My beautiful boy Kacchan. He’s my gecko.”

▌That’s cool, I guess. Now tell me about something you don’t like.

           “We’d be here all day. That’s probably not a good thing to ask.”

▌Do you have any hobbies/activities you like to do?

          “Training, video games, bit of parkour, maybe a bit of guitar playing, some crafting and stuff. Do like football and the like, exploring and even hiking. And there’s other things that aren’t too exciting.”

▌Ever hurt anyone before?

         “Yeah.”

▌Ever killed anyone before?

         “Nope. Ideally, I never will.”

▌What kind of animal are you?

         “Heh, everyone says I’m like a shark. Or a dog. Really prefer the former though I’ll play up the latter for the hell of it.”

▌Name some of your worst habits.

         “Ugh. Let’s just say I have a lot of shitty habits, okay?”

▌Do you look up to anyone at all?

         “Crimson Riot’s a big one for me, has been every since I was a kid. Spider-man’s become one recently. Maybe All Might or Sensei.”

▌Gay, straight, or bisexual?

         “Does the label really matter?”

▌Do you go to school?

         “Yup.”

▌Do you ever want to marry and have kids one day?

         “I do. I say it a lot, and I really do think it, but who knows how life’ll turn out. It’s probably for the best if I don’t, more convenient in the long run. I mean, hero work’s tough stuff, even All Might chose ta’ not take anybody, that or he’s real private about ‘em.”

▌Do you have any fanboys/fangirls?

         “Why would I? M’not even a pro yet.”

▌What are you most afraid of?

         “...helplessness. Weakness.”

▌What do you usually wear?

          “Besides my school uniform? Something comfortable I guess.”

▌Do you love someone?

         “What is love?”

▌What class are you?

         “Not specifying, but somewhere in the middle class.”

▌How many friends do you have?

          “Enough ta’ make me happy.” 

▌What are your thoughts on pie?

        “Pie’s pretty good!”

▌Favorite drink?

          “I, uh...I-I dunno what’s it’s called in Japanese. Or English. Uhh...s’red, really fuckin’ bitter without sugar, stains like fucking hell...agua de jamaica. I don’t fucking know what that is by any other name.”

▌What’s your favorite place?

         “Oh man, I gotta say...Yoro Valley or the Katori Shrine. I’ve got really good memories there, though my great aunt’s place was pretty fun.”

▌Are you into someone~?

         “A couple, all my friends.”

▌Would you rather swim in the lake or in the ocean?

          “Ehhh, either’ll do. Swimming in a lake’s fun and all, but once you’ve been to the rigth beach, man, lemme tell ya, it’s fun!”

▌What’s your type?

         “Blondes. I like someone with high energy and determination, lotsa confidence. Someone with drive and conviction, and someone who I can get along with easy. That’s the most important part, I guess. Someone I can really fit with, outside a fight or not, someone it feels natural to be with. The kinda person I can feel like myself around and isn’t afraid to show the worst of them.”

▌Camping or indoors?

           “It depends. Sometimes I wanna just hole myself up in my room. Sometimes I wanna go out and explore, I’ve wanted to camp out at the woods near the school since we started living in the dorms.”

#long post for ts #hc #;muse games

[captainshyguy]

so uhh i watched endgame

im...gonna put my thoughts under a readmore nd tag as spoilers ofc but tbh??? i didnt enjoy it that much lmao 

like.....im gonna go over the negatives first tbh 

so like...listen i GET that steve’s ending was like.....happy for him and im glad for him and peggy but.....eh i....didnt like that babey 

nowhere NEAR enough black panther nd captain marvel 

im sorry but the scene with all the ladies was so fORCED GDFHJHDHFD you could feel them patting themselves on the back like ‘look at all these ladies!!! feminism!!!’ mayb give them a bigger role but okay! :) (though at the same time my mind did scream ‘lets go lesbians’ at that moment so far enough) plus them killing off natasha lichrally an hour ago nd tryna preach that was hysterical like...man i LOVE hawkeye but uhh,...he probably should have been the one to sacrifice himself like would have i been rly upset and listed it as a negative?? yea! but it’d still be the lesser of two evils here lmao

i...was super bored during the time heist stuff but thats probably bc i fucking hate time travel, like.....i honestly thought since thanos said he reduced the stones to a single atom that like...they’d b going into the quantum realm, going rly small and getting them but alright 

like....i did think that mayb they’d use the time stone or something so i was expectin,..some time travel kinda, hopefully not too much, but when they mentioned the quantum stuff i was like ‘oh!!!’ then i got disappointed when that wasnt it hdnjfkhfdnkj 

but yea the time travel explanation was...dumb lmao

gamora or nebula should have killed thanos sorry im super mad it want either of them, nebula ESPECIALLY 

i dont even like black widow that much but that was uh bullshit with her ngsgnsdjkggs 

i just.....i didnt find a lot of it enjoyable i was lowkey bored through a lot of it, especially before the final battle like...i GET what they were doing, but uhh i didnt like the time skip, and i get why there was lotsa...talkin nd i usually like that but i have to give a shit abt the characters we see nd natasha, tony nd bruce arent exactly high up on my list 

them showing how much thor has spiraled by makin him fat was uhh.....that rly how u gonna do it??? 

plus the whole bruce nd hulk being one was....again i GET IT but uhhhh didnt rly enjoy that, i think i’d like it more if they became friends isntead

steve nd bucky like...barely talked to each other at all lmao

that scene with the kids who took a pic with bruce was okay until they started the whole antman part of that joke i felt SO MUCH SECONDHAND EMBARRASSMENT

uhhh   neutral thing 

listen i dont care much abt tony so him dying was like?? a thing i guess??? honestly felt more bad for pepper nd the kid than tony himself, and i feel bad for some of my mutuals bc i know they like him! but yea i wouldnt say it was like??? a pro for me like i wasnt celebrating, tony’s okay but i didnt feel much abt it besides ‘damb....they did that huh’

good things 

uhhh ngl the scene where everyone came thru the portals to fight was uhh poetic cinema

AS WAS STEVEN LIFTING THOR’S HAMMER HMMHMHMHMHMMHMHM that was......im not...attracted to captain america at all rly but i was like ‘o sexy’ when that happened so 

carol’s hair....yum

uhhh steve passing the mantle onto sam???? POETIC CINEMA

korg being alive and playing fortnite was.....hysterical even if its gonna be so dated in the future gnhhkhfd

also carol, getting literally headbutted by thanos and not even flinching/moving an inch was sexy 

there was hardly any dr strange nd im glad i hate benedict cumberbatch jgkhjnskggnkdjs 

god im SO GLAD cap didnt die like i so thought he would i was terrified like....my bro was like ‘he’s basically dead’ dude’s got super soldier serum running thru his veins he’s fine bitch, probably has a longer lifespan hjkfhjdf  

scott was rly great and i loved him reuniting with cassie 

OH YEA NEBULA WAS INCREDIBLE SHE WAS A SHINING STAR THRU THAT GOTDAMN FILM

scott talkin abt steve’s ass was bi energy 

clint nd natasha’s lil forehead touch thing was uhhh..beautiful babey! in a friendship and romance way! 

so uhh yea liked parts of it, disliked most of the actual story/themes so lol defo one of my least fave marvel films 

#endgame #endgame spoilers #emma rambles

[gossamergore]

Tagged by: no one tagged me im just annoying 

Name: Samuel (daddy cave’s cocksucker)

Star Sign: Taurus 

Height: 5′7″

Ever had a poem or song written about you? yessum

When was the last time you played guitar? today 

Celebrity crush? nick cave, Iggy pop, Lana del rey 

Sound you hate? fhdjfhdjfjb mouth noises 

Sound you love Rain, leaves in the wind, ocean waves 

Believe in ghosts? my boyfriend literally saw a ghost and ive had too many spiritual experiences to not believe 

Believe in aliens? I can't say no the universe is endless 

Do you drive? no, reasons 

What was the last book you read? East Of Eden by John Steinbeck 

Do you like the smell of gasoline? yessum 

Worst injury? I got lotsa scars

Do you have a current obsession? eh, James dean, velvet goldmine, nick cave

Do you tend to hold grudges? in theory yes but I am also famous for suddenly deciding I want people back who have damaged me because I specialize in self destruction 

Tagging: @r3nton (if u haven't done it) @fadeintoyouu @dlraco @clearlylostmymind @thehotstrangeryoullneverseeagain @jacopseed

[seenashwrite]

Walkthrough for “There But For The Grace”.

If interested - Go read it first before continuing on. This is about the plot point stuff (i/e - hints for the end, amongst other things) and the theological drops I sprinkled throughout.

I genuinely did not intend for this to cause brain freeze. Hoo-boy. Many sorry. There’s about a 40/60 split at this point of the “got its” vs. “didn’t quite got its”, so that’s on me. Not that it was incredibly necessary to catch the loop-di-loop in order to like it, though you might like it more once you know.

So I'll walk you through my thought process in the least disjointed manner I can manage. Which... hoo-boy, part deux. Tagging folks who commented on the story/to me directly, certainly no expectation on my part for you to read and/or reply. Seriously. Legit. Etc. And stuff.

This took longer to write than the story. #no lie

Okay, lotsa screencaps, so I don’t (a) end up c-p’ing the whole damn thing, and more the reason (b) so can underline. 

And for ALL our brains’ sakes, I’ll call our dude Michael, and other world’s dude Mike from here on.  Plotting stuff in red, theological stuff in blue, randoms (Nash Be Nashin’ and SPN canon stuff) in green.

The title is from that proverb “There but for the grace of God go I”, and as ye olde wiki explains....

....and then, there’s this:

Hopefully you picked up on something being “off” with how I was writing ol’ Mike as the story went on. I got slightly tricksy in some places on purpose regarding characterization, but hey - Mike and Michael are essentially the same angel in concept, just on different planes, right? And stuff apparently took a left turn when the apocalypse went through over yonder. So while they didn’t really re-tell the history of Apocaland beat-by-beat (thank Chuck), the inference I got is that the basic shit went down - he boots Luci after he rebels, etc. Blah blah blah, y’all know this.

Quote from Michael:

So maybe Mike came at it from the same angle when he killed his Luci. Who knows. Though I will say - if it was some sort of duty for him and not pleasure, I wouldn’t think there’d be boasting about pulling Luci apart, nor would the knee-jerk be to string him up and torture him, at least, if he’d suddenly re-appeared before me one day. YMMV.

This is good summary from the wiki, whoever wrote it did a bang up job:

Michael is meticulous. He slow-plays things. It’s not about being power-hungry; he had power. He was essentially God. For him, this is tied up in honor and loyalty and righting wrongs and all that jazz.

Again - that hesitation. He never stopped loving Lucifer - and Lucifer never stopped loving any of them, we see this big time in the Elysium ep when he “killed” Gabriel. Much internal conflict with these folks. And then there’s Mike, who iced (our) Gabriel and tortured (our) Lucifer in the blink of an eye. 

There’s my characterization base of operations.

---> Could be interpreted as Michael or Mike - applies to both. Mike would find pleasure in taking inventory of what he planned to rule, how we aren’t worthy of anything but being subjects; Michael is perhaps glad to see plenty of justifications for what he feels he’s still destined to do.

---> “Learned” for Mike = the observing we saw in the finale, comparing-and-contrasting to his world; “learned” for Michael could be (a) via Dean’s mind, and / or (b) what he could’ve seen from Mike’s mind when he whooped his ass, a.k.a. Nash’s Sneaky Twisty Thing, re: Michael is now in Dean’s body. 

So, how is that, Nash? you may ask.

Dunno.

Perhaps the distraction of Mike getting wailed on by Michael allowed Dean the opportunity to eject him, maybe Dean’s been wearing Mike down mentally. And though Dean/Sam - being the ideal hosts - have greater tolerance than us regulars, it’s gonna leave them weakened, it’s just got to. Hell, just being possessed by fill-in-the-blank leaves ya with the weeble-wobbles for a bit. Primo chance for Michael to set up shop in Dean.

Then, Nash, since angels need permission, how’d Michael do that? you may ask.

Occam’s razor --> Dean gave Michael “the soul”/”the entity”/whatever permission, and that goes across the realm, alt timelines/dimensions/whatnots. Or, maybe Dean chose the lesser of the two evils, so to speak - he’s boned at this interval anyhow, so if the opportunity arose, if it’s me, I’m choosing the frying pan over the fire - at least I’ve bought myself (and my loved ones, and the world) some time. Either of those work for what I intimated in the story.

Bottom line: however it went down, that’s for your imagination to choose.

A point that’s called back to later, as well as Nash Be Nashin’, RE: I’ve no idea why they opted to dress him in that style. There’s other stylings that are stark contrasts to Dean’s without going full-court-press cosplay, but whatevs. In any event, assuming my premise is taken - that the worlds played out the same for the most part and the ‘20s were a fave and would explain the wardrobe - this can apply to both Mike and Michael.

For those of you fortunate enough to have missed slogging through Sunday school, allow me: S&G was apparently a hotbed of sin, and they were gonna get the fire-and-brimstone treatment. Abraham asked angels who visited him if they’d spare the righteous, because there was at least one group there who was: his nephew Lot’s family. Two more angels were sent to investigate, Lot was awesome to them, welcomed them in without knowing they were angels, etc. So when time came to fire things up, the angels fessed up about who they were and why they were there, and told them (Lot and his crew) that they needed to just leave and not look back. And whoopsie, Lot’s wife found out that wasn’t metaphorical, as when she turned to get one last look at her home going up in flames, wha-BAM! She got turned into a pillar of salt.

So here might be the first subconscious “Hmmm” from your mind - that doesn’t really sync up with what we know of Mike. I don’t think he gives a shit about how much he sins to get what he wants. I bet he can’t even spell benevolence. Read this in Michael’s voice, though, and I hear that whole justifying thing again, the “don’t really want to, but got to” mindset.

See above, RE: “...but I labored more abundantly than them all”. Plus, speaks to arrogance, applicable to both Michael and Mike.

---> “The” earth, eh? ;) 

---> Theology-wise, Michael’s only named a couple times, if memory serves... actually most of them are name dropped just a handful of times... did they namedrop Gabe as the one who told Mary she was preggers? I’m not looking it up.

Anyway, theologians have assigned certain “messages” delivered and punishments as being enacted by specific angels, I won’t go down that road here, I’ve no clue how they managed to arrive at those conclusions. Point is that Michael was a guardian, of heaven and of certain places/people on earth, depending on where God assigned. I wanna say Daniel and the lion’s den was one of them. Not looking that up, either.

---> "Temporarily”, hmmm.... that other world looked plenty definitively apoca-sized to me. In any event, floods is a ref to the Noah story, and if memory serves, Michael is thought by some to have been the “angel of death” that struck down the firstborn sons during the plagues of Egypt.

Also also - I’d speculate he’s taken on some self-imposed blame for Lucifer sneaking into the garden and tempting Adam & Eve, as he is so convicted in SPN land about righting the wrongs Lucifer brought upon the world, and that’s the event that kicked shit off. 

---> O.T. (old testament) God took no shit, got smitey on a dime. New Testament God (a.k.a. - post-Jesus time) flipped a switch to a more fatherly figure. 

---> The absence thing is SPN canon.

---> The differing legends is me thumbing my nose at their neglect of both their own canon and theology. #dammit Dabb

---> So, again, choose your poison - Luci getting into the garden, then Michael having to wage battle in heaven to boot him (and, let’s be real, he likely had followers that got nailed, too), etc. etc. etc.

---> The plans refer to the stuff up there from the wiki - that was an intricate damn plan. Deceptive, sure, but again that whole “bigger picture” mentality. 

---> RE: beloved - yeah, that’s not sounding like the Mike we’ve been presented with.

Now that’s a pretty detailed thing to know about a random coffee joint in a random town in a random state in a strange world, wouldn’t you say? ;)

---> Trinities, trifectas, triples - threes are trendy numbers in stories and legends and oral tradition, so it comes up here multiple times, as well. And he’s talking about Jesus, of course, and the green Nashy line is me thinking “Wonder what he thought about Amara?” 

(’Cause I’m of the thought that Amara + Chuck = God, yin-yang and all, but from the very black-and-white Michael’s perspective, I could see him playing nice but not buying into it, and I mean, he was part of the crew that banished her on Chuck’s orders, so there you go. He may not have even been privy to the scoop that they were the corporeal forms of light/dark, maybe just of the understanding that she was his meddling aunt, and of course he was gonna do whatever his dad told him to do. Anyhow, I think that adds additional texture to why it frustrates him so much that Luci couldn’t fall in line, why Luci always had to ask questions. ---> and that’s just me, there’s no way y’all could’ve inferred it from just that, you’re not psychic, I’m just sharing. I digress. I’m good for some heavy digressin’.)

There is a specific things-come-in-threes story that’s my baseline, but I’ll tell you further down after #3 hits.

On we go...

The chick we come to know as Grace does not catch his eye because she is pretty or sweet or in need of assistance or pouty or flirty or super-smart, or even beautiful or too shy and bookish, but if she’d just take off those damn glasses and let her hair out of that ponytail she might be, whatever trope you wanna throw on her - she’s a sinner, another hopeless sinner in a long line of humans who were/are fucking this joint up.

---> There’s several feet-washing stories in the Bible. I hate feet. That’s not in the Bible, and has no bearing here. Add it to your Nash factoids. Moving on. 

The one I had in mind is below, and Imma c/p the pertinent parts because lazy. Bolding is mine, natch. In Luke 7....

36 One of the Pharisees asked Jesus to eat with him, so Jesus went into the Pharisee’s house and sat at the table. 37 A sinful woman in the town learned that Jesus was eating at the Pharisee’s house. So she brought an alabaster jar of perfume 38 and stood behind Jesus at his feet, crying. She began to wash his feet with her tears, and she dried them with her hair, kissing them many times and rubbing them with the perfume. 39 When the Pharisee who asked Jesus to come to his house saw this, he thought to himself, “If Jesus were a prophet, he would know that the woman touching him is a sinner!”

40 Jesus said to the Pharisee, “Simon, I have something to say to you.”

Simon said, “Teacher, tell me.”

[parable]

44 Then Jesus turned toward the woman and said to Simon, “Do you see this woman? When I came into your house, you gave me no water for my feet, but she washed my feet with her tears and dried them with her hair. 45 You gave me no kiss of greeting, but she has been kissing my feet since I came in. 46 You did not put oil on my head, but she poured perfume on my feet. 47 I tell you that her many sins are forgiven, so she showed great love. But the person who is forgiven only a little will love only a little.”

48 Then Jesus said to her, “Your sins are forgiven.” [...] “Because you believed, you are saved from your sins. Go in peace.”

The other 4 gospels - Matthew, Mark & John - tell a similar story. (But in John’s the woman isn’t a random - it’s one of the sisters of Lazarus, the guy Jesus raised from the dead. #cool trivia digression)

 --> “Hot as hell” and “thank God” is just Nash Be Nashin’.

--> Start of the main trinity (1A)

--> Again, he’s not digging on her because she’s so awesomesauce in some typical way; she’s a dichotomy to him, sin with sweet. He’s a black-and-white kind of guy (and pretty much every angel we’ve met). It’s interesting to him, that seeming heel-turn. We’ll call back to those verses above here in a bit, with respect to how he feels about her as he spends more time with her.

Quickie trinity.

Nash Be Nashin’.

Recurring theme, forgiveness; also - that sound like Mike to you? At least, at this point? Eh. Maybe. If he’s trying to manipulate. But on the other hand - if this were Mike - has she got something he wants/needs? Manipulate Dean, sure; manipulate rando server chick? Possible. But nah. 

---> Would Mike ask that? Why would he care? But Michael might, trying to get a bead on this human. ‘Cause remember, this is an angel who has had sparing contact with humans since he’s been in charge, he’s been dispatching angels for the heavy lifting, he’s not been boots on the ground takin’ care of business for quite awhile. His only in-depth contact has been the Winchesters, and that was only when he had to step in.

---> Also, close siblings recurring theme (close because able to joke around as well as later, when she mentions he’d vent to her about his time in war but not to the same degree as he did the rest of their family)

---> the main trinity of this story, part deux (and don’t get ahead of me; fine, I’ll do it for you: no, Michael having the nickname I mention later isn’t Biblical)

---> Lucifer was called The Morning Star (see also dictionary, re: “luciferous”)

---> Now that would be a really pretty damn specific thing for Mike to know. 

---> The keep an eye out - again, reinforcing the theme that Michael whiffed not seeing the Lucifer thing coming; also lawbreakers looking out for the authorities, a contrast with an authority - God/Michael/et al - looking out for wrongdoers. 

---> Park with a sandbox, Nash Be Nashin’

---> Bit tricksy; could go to Mike coming from his world to here, could be Michael feeling like this is a world he doesn’t know anymore after all his time in the cage; regardless, sets a tone of “She gets me”

Whether you cotton to my assertion that Michael may feel guilt for not seeing the Lucifer stuff coming and preventing his initial ingress (Eden), it’s theology 101 that Lucifer brought all things evil and sin and demon and hell and blah blah blah to humankind. And Michael beat him in heaven, but it’s been less offense and more defense ever since; reacting to Luci vs. bringing the game to him. Which is what Michael was finally doing, when the Winchesters didn’t agree to be vessels and let it play out like he’d planned.

So, Saint Michael on the theology end, ruling heaven in Chuck’s absence on the SPN canon end, and Michael’s arrogant, to be sure. He assumed his plan would go off without a hitch, and maybe if it’d been the Hardy Boys instead of the Winchesters, it would’ve [shrugs]

---> Nash Be Nashin’ - trying to poke your subconscious to think about that shot of them falling into the hole, to the cage

---> Could we describe Mike as “broken”? I couldn’t. More to the point, does he behave as if he might consider himself “broken”? Hmmm.

---> I guess that last bit could go either way; for me, I’m thinking of how Lucifer must’ve behaved in the cage, which we got a taste of via Sam’s hallucinations, and perhaps it being too quiet once he was gone. Sometimes being left alone with your thoughts is a bad time.

Again, canon - Lucifer never met a quiet moment he didn’t wanna fill.

So this is just me doing a second sin in the sin trilogy for Michael, as well as adding another piece of common ground between him and Grace with the nickname thing. The only Biblical truth there is the whole “Mark of the Beast” thing. Next time you get drunk or lit on whatever, read you some Revelations, it’ll either knock you out the rest of the way or give you fantastic nightmares.

What I just said, RE: second part of the Michael Lies Super Easy When It Comes To This Chick trilogy. I mean, not really - it’s coming from a good place, he doesn’t want to scare her, and if he told her the truth, where would he even start? Especially with her not being religious. He’s so far behind the eight ball, he’s under the pool table.

---> So here’s the trinity tale that’s the base for why I put this in the story. It’s in all four gospels (Matthew/Mark/Luke/John), and it’s about how at the Last Supper (which happens right before the crucifixion of Jesus goes down), they’re talking about how one of them would betray Jesus (re: Judas), and an apostle named Peter speaks up.

(Oh! Speaking of, there’s another triple play for ya - Jesus ends up on a cross between two criminals. Okay, back to the passages)

Matthew:

Peter replied, “Even if all fall away on account of you, I never will.”

“Truly I tell you,” Jesus answered, “this very night, before the rooster crows, you will disown me three times.”

But Peter declared, “Even if I have to die with you, I will never disown you.”

Mark:

Peter declared, “Even if all fall away, I will not.”

“Truly I tell you,” Jesus answered, “today—yes, tonight—before the rooster crows twice you yourself will disown me three times.”

But Peter insisted emphatically, “Even if I have to die with you, I will never disown you.”

Luke:

But he replied, “Lord, I am ready to go with you to prison and to death.”

Jesus answered, “I tell you, Peter, before the rooster crows today, you will deny three times that you know me.”

John:

Peter asked him, “Lord, where are you going?”

Jesus replied, “Where I am going, you cannot follow now, but you will follow later.”

Peter asked, “Lord, why can’t I follow you now? I will lay down my life for you.”

Then Jesus answered, “Will you really lay down your life for me? Very truly I tell you, before the rooster crows, you will disown me three times.”

---> Grace be shinin’, Nash Be Nashin’

---> What made him kiss her / risk the “sin”? She walked with him. (”Lord I am ready to go with you...”). She listened. She comforted him. She forgave him when he asked for it (re: for scaring her). She believed he wasn’t a horrible “person”. Prompted him to consider there might be a place/time where he wasn’t (see below, RE: “perhaps”). 

A la.... 

But the person who is forgiven only a little will love only a little.” Then Jesus said to her, “Your sins are forgiven.” [...] “Because you believed, you are saved from your sins. Go in peace.”

---> You may’ve noticed I didn’t call him Michael until Dean was gone during the kiss - that was on purpose. Because that was him making that decision, no (potential) Dean influence on board. And I didn’t have him call Dean by his name, being very distant throughout, until they talked about brothers, their common ground. He’s finding common ground with humans - a new kind of hallowed ground - versus being solely their guardian or their punisher, depending. This is (likely, hopefully) a good thing.

---> RE: sin - see below

---> This is your call to make - was it actually apple-flavored lip balm? Or was it strawberry/random fruity-flavored lip balm like Dean thought, and it just tasted like apples to Michael?

In any event, RE: “tasted like sin” - apples have been commonly used in art/stories as representing the fruit Eve ate from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil back in the garden, a.k.a. - the original sin

HOME STRETCH!

[Full disclosure: based on early feedback, from here on out - if you were an early reader - you may notice there’s been a few tweaked lines since original publish, so I may be about to clarify things that are now - with the tweaks - obvious to you. I’m just sayin’.]

By this point, I’d hope you’d been kinda thinking, “I appreciate Nash’s effort to make Mike be not a complete asshole, but holy moly I have been suspending my disbelief like a mo-fo as this went on, why does he give a shit about this chick or about chatting with Dean all friendly, etc.”

---> That “Why didn’t we....” part should scream “THIS ISN’T MIKE”. I hope.

---> It’s been about 10 yrs. since Stull / when Michael took the dive

---> “Is there...” / “Perhaps” -- and maybe it’s this one. Maybe it’s the world he’s always known, but not been part of; remains to be seen. He’s a different dude. This ain’t the same angel that went into that cage. Like Chuck said - he’s a mess. Or maybe, now, could we say... was a mess? Hmmm. Different, though. Definitely different. Not terribly un-canon, not a huge jump to make, in my mind. 

And, you know, The Cage was Luci’s big punishment, right? And he’s fine. Anytime we saw him, in the caboose version or just-been-sprung, he’s been same-ol’, same-ol’. So maybe it’s simply an isolation room, and it’s only been BAD-bad for Sam and Adam and Michael, because Luci was there messing with them, because he’s bored off his ass. That’s why I posit The Cage may not be anything beyond blank space, as it were, if Luci’s not present. 

What Mike would “likely” bring? Nah. Mike’s on the express train to domination. He’s not messing around.

Nash Be Nashin’. I am, on occasion, poetic. “His” is a callback to “my Michael”, and the “g” in “grace” is lower case on purpose. [clears throat, c/ps from up yonder....]

Grace don’t come in just one form, yo. There’s lots floating out there. Just gotta pay attention. Know what to watch for.

And here’s the hammer:

Hmmmm....

---> Dean knows Mike’s been thinking of it; to quote Black Widow, that’s not a question that needs answering.

---> “Still”? “Do-over?” - Mike’s had his apocalypse. Do-over of what? That implies Mike’s tried to pull off Apocaworld, Part Deux here, and... he hasn’t tried at this point. He’d said they were already looking into what all other worlds they could get to before Jack’s birth caused our rift and they saw an opportunity for a better way, but Mike’s not taken a run at our world; Michael has. (Bit of a misleading, open-to-interpretation / could apply to Mike line, though, I grant you.)

---> “over there” - already mentioned “head to the cage”, ergo “there” is “cage”

---> “act” / “figure it out” - thaaaat’s nooot Miiiike, your subconscious sings!

---> Say I’m Mike. 

I’m a tactical mofo. I know how to spot an enemy, it’s why I was gonna take out Jack emotionally if I couldn’t cripple him or kill him. I hit this new world. I’m inside a very handsome I MEAN powerful bod. I am locked and loaded. What’s first on the agenda now that I’ve got the ammo?

I take out potential threats. Dean’s an obstacle, true, but he’ll be tucked away going night-night for at least a bit, and I can likely wash-rinse-repeat as needed. Obstacle, though - he’s not an inherent threat to me. Lucifer’s out of the way. Raphael’s out of the way. Gabriel’s out of the way.

Oh. Oh noooes, FML: I’m not out of the way. 

And holy shit - the holiest of all the shits - I could take myself out. Isn’t he in the Fort Knox of binding-thingy-traps-whatever?

But wait. Waaaaait, wait - that cage must be made of aluminum foil, I can see Dean’s memories. Some tacky decoder rings opened it up, his brother Sam got pulled from it, then the angel of death got Sam’s soul out of it, rando witch called up the caboose of it like it was Uber, Lucifer popped Dean and his crew in-and-out of it, and didn’t that demon Crowley use parts of it for some ill-explained ingredient to hold Lucifer hostage like it was melty MacGuffin cheese? Is there not a doorman or something?! Can they get pizza delivered down there, too, I mean TF?

Ooooh, now this is interesting. Chuckie told Dean Michael’s beyond his repair. Lucifer said Michael’s a mess... well. Consider that source. But still. Risk not too high, reward could be very high.

Yeah. I’m totes arrogant enough. This is gonna be a cake-walk.

---> Except... time moves differently in the cage, we know that. So Lucifer’s been gone for... hell, who knows how long. What state Michael might be in now is a mystery. He’s had time to regroup, at the very least, without his chief antagonist lording over him. So is it implausible that Michael could be the key to nailing Mike’s ass to the wall? Might it even be probable? 

The board of directors at NashHole, Inc. voted “Yeeeeessss”.

Again, bro-love, evergreen recurring theme. So, here it is:

If I’m Michael, my perspective would be that Mike can handle his world how he pleases, and he did. But now he’s on my turf. I’m taking great umbrage with this power-hungry twin of mine coming over here and having the audacity to make decisions, take over my destiny, etc.

And then another part of it - Michael’s not only had a lot of time in the cage to get his mojo back, he’s also had time to process the whole situation, what led him to this place, the part he played. I’d imagine a part of him is still gripping onto his convictions, while on the other hand starting to realize that there are parts of this world - and people in this world - that already make it a paradise despite all that Lucifer/demons/the supernaturals have done. 

Maybe an apocalypse isn’t the answer. Maybe Lucifer doesn’t have to die. Bottom line, that ain’t Mike’s call to make; it’s Michael’s.

Last thing!

Handful of you asked about how Mike would’ve opened the cage, how a fight would’ve gone down if Michael’s still in Adam, what about Adam, and my answer is - does it matter? I know, I know, that sounds snotty; it matters in the sense that you asked, so it matters to you. Where I’m coming from is that this isn’t what the story is about, not for me. But hey - you fill in those blanks however your heart desires, truly. Or pretend that twist at the end never happened, and think of this as Mike the whole way through. :) 

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That cage is made of chewed gum and pipe cleaners, a hamster could get in there, I’m done, I’m DONE, okay bye.

@ellen-reincarnated1967  @waywardjoy  @copperseraphim @bumbleball13  @inlovewith2dcharacters  @impandagrl  @theoriginalvicki  @mrswhozeewhatsis  @littlegreenplasticsoldier  @butiaintgonnaloveem  @salt-n-burn-em-all  @sixtysevenandwhiskey  @anticipate1003  @juppschmitz  @smi727  @casismybae  @jalove-wecallhimdean  @salvachester  

#Nash Responds #Nash Elaborates #and all over your faces #it's long #but interesting I hope #on god I didn't mean to make this complex #I wrote it over a few days #like maybe three hours #quick for me is my point #the graphic was more time consuming #so I assure you #'twas not intended #as a deep dive #oof #I'm so apologizing #Queueby Dooby Doo #Dad's on a blog post and #he hasn't been queued in a few days