Imagine Scott is acting really weird and you think he may break up with you, but really he proposes.
——— Request for anon ———
“Just get it over with,” you demand, unable to handle the pity-dinner any longer. Scott looks up at you with a look of bewilderment, causing you to only get more upset as you elaborate, “You didn’t need to cook me a pity-dinner in order to break up with me, Scott. I’d rather you just say it to me and get it over with!”
“Break up with you?” Scott begins, looking utterly shocked. “Why would you think I was going to break up with you?”
“Um, ‘We need to talk,’ doesn’t exactly scream that you’re happy!” you could feel your nose burning with the threat of crying as you reference the text he’d sent to get you here. “Not to mention how distant you’ve been the last couple of days!”
“Distant?” he shakes his head, standing from his seat across the table from you in order to come around and crouch beside your chair, “You’ve got it all wrong. I’ve been avoiding you because I didn’t think I could hold out until tonight if I didn’t, without tipping you off!” Scott laughs, making you become even more confused.
“What are you laughing about?” you huff, crossing your arms in worry.
“You! If you had just waited for dessert,” Scott laughs again, running into the kitchen to grab your favorite Ben and Jerry’s ice cream flavor from the fridge before rushing back to your side. He hands it to you with a grin, “Look inside.”
You do as he says, taking the cold pint and opening it, only to gasp at what’s inside. By the time you look back to him from the engagement ring he’s centered on top of the ice cream, he’s getting on one knee, looking completely amused at the fact that you’d thought he was going to break up with you.
One of the best methods for extracting the more tenacious plant material, such as roots, bark and woody stems is by making a decoction. To make a decoction add one ounce of root/bark to one pint of cold spring water. Bring this mixture to a boil… then simmer for 15 – 30 minutes, depending on strength of decoction desired. Always keep the pot tightly covered. Store any unused portion in refrigerator. Use only glass, ceramic or enameled vessels for your herbal preparations.
To make an infusion pour boiling water over the herbs and allow the herbs to steep 15 to 30 minutes, depending on the strength needed. Remember to keep the container tightly covered during the infusion process.
I place my herbal mixture in a large glass jar with a lid. I add cool spring water over this and place in direct
sunlight for several hours. When the infusion has reached desired strength, strain the herbal material from the liquid and store the infusion in the refrigerator.
Follow the above directions, only place your jar of water and herbs under the full moon’s rays overnight. Fresh flowers are quite lovely in lunar infusions. Do not use poisonous flowers! Avoid sprayed flowers. There are a lot of good reference books on edible flowers. Check them out before experimenting. Safe, edible flowers; Calendula petals, Chrysanthemum petals, Dandelion petals, Fuchsia, Hollyhock, Honeysuckle, Johnny-jump-up, Nasturtium, Pansy, Rose petals, Snapdragon and Violets. These are a few of the edible flowers that I use in infusions, salads and other herbal formulations.
I personally use the old folk method. To make a tincture, fill a clean dry jar one-half way with your herbal mixture, cover completely with vodka, brandy or grain alcohol, adding a couple more inches to allow for expansion as the dry herbs absorb the liquid. Steep in a warm place for three to eight weeks. Shake daily, strain when done and store in a dark colored bottle, label with content and date of preparation. I suggest keeping accurate files on all preparations, there is nothing worse than not being able to recreate a prize tincture. Over the some odd forty years of making tinctures, I have lost a few great recipes, simply because I was in a hurry and didn’t bother to write them down.
Medicinal syrups have been traditionally used for treating coughs, sore throats and digestive problems. Syrups are easy and fun to make. Because of the high sugar content in most syrups they will last for several weeks, if refrigerated. I’ve had a few of my syrups last for months and some of my students have reported the same results.
To make an herbal syrup, add about two ounces of herb to one quart of water. Bring to a gentle boil, then simmer until liquid is reduced to one pint. Strain, and while the liquid is still warm, add ½ -1 cup of honey (or brown / white sugar or maple syrup.) You may also add six to eight tablespoons of plain or fruit brandy to the your pint of syrup. Brandy relaxes the throat muscles and helps to calm coughing spasms. Bottle for use and store in refrigerator.
Liniments are used for soothing strained muscles and ligaments. Liniments are for external use, and should be labeled accordingly. One of the most popular liniment recipes comes from the famous herbalist, Jethro Kloss. I use this for rubbing on tired, strained muscles after a busy day in the garden. I’ve also noticed that it keeps fleas and bugs off my legs. Combine one ounce of each of the following; golden seal powder, myrrh powder and echinacea, plus ¼ ounce cayenne powder. Place these dried herbs in a bottle and add one pint of rubbing alcohol. Shake this bottle daily for three to ten days. Strain and store in a bottle.
Salves / Ointments
A salve/ointment, is a preparation that when applied to the skin will remain in place because of its thick
consistency. A salve can be made by first heating one cup of infused oil and about one-fourth cup of grated beeswax. Stirring gently with a wooden spoon until all of the beeswax is completely melted. Remove from heat and let this mixture cool until you see a ridge forming around the edge of your ceramic pot. Add a couple drops of essential oils of your choice, blending well. Immediately pour this mixture into small containers and store in a cool dark place. If you store your salves/ointments properly they will last a very long time. I have a tea tree mixture in my herbal closet that is over two years old. When they lose their color and smell rancid discard them.
A compress is applied directly to the skin to enhance the healing process. To make a compress, use a clean soft cloth made of cotton, linen or gauze. Soak this cloth in a hot infusion or decoction. Place this as hot as is comfortable, without burning upon the affected area. Change the compress as soon as it cools. For a cold compress use a cold water infusion or cold water with a couple of drops of a soothing essential oil swished around in the water. My favorite essential oils to use are lavender, Clary sage, Chamomile and Jasmine. Remember only one to two drops of essential oil to one cup of water. Make sure you mix the oil and water well. When I’ve had a hectic day I pour some spring water into a lovely hand painted cup, add a couple of drops of Clary Sage then dip my favorite fine linen handkerchief into the mixture. I wring out the excess water and place this over my forehead. It’s wonderful. I also keep a couple bottles of rose and orange water in my refrigerator, and I sometimes use the waters instead of infusions or decoctions. You can usually find these waters at well stocked Asian stores.
Tisanes / Teas
Place the herbs in a container with a tight fitting lid and pour boiling water over them. Replace the lid on the
container. Allow the tea to steep for five to twenty minutes. Steeping time will depend on herbs/flowers used. Sun tea can be made by placing your herbs in a sun tea jar and pouring cold spring water over the herbs. Place this jar in direct sunlight and let it infuse for several hours. To prepare lunar tea, place the herbs in an open glass bowl. Cover the herbs with fresh water and place directly in the moonlight. I sometimes cover the bowl with a glass lid to keep the neighborhood squirrel out. Allow your tea to infuse overnight and refrigerate first thing in the morning.
Infused Herbal Oils
Infused oils are simply wonderful, I use them in making my cosmetic creams, ointments, massage oils, salves, dream balms, shampoos, hand lotions etc. I use either dry or fresh herbs. I find the lighter oils such as almond, apricot or grapeseed oils are the best. If you choose to use fresh herbs, make sure they are completely free of moisture. To make infused oils I simply add two ounces of herbal mixture to two cups of oil in a large glass jar. Cover tightly. I place these jars in a warm sunny spot on my windowsill. Let the mixture infuse for two weeks, strain, adding a fresh batch of herbs to the oil, and infuse for an additional two weeks. At the end of the two weeks, strain the herbs into a new bottle, and store it in a cool dark area. When I’m in a hurry I use my crock-pot. Place the herbs and oil in a crock-pot turn to the lowest setting. Check for overheating and allow this mixture to infuse from two to four hours. Strain the mixture and pour into clean dry bottles. Store your infused oils in a cool, dark place. The left over oil can be pressed from the herbal residue and stored in a separate container, this oil is usable, but of a poorer quality. My favorite infused oil is made by using equal parts of Calendula flowers, Roses, Lavender, Chamomile flowers and Comfrey. Comfrey used as a cosmetic herb, is reported to regenerate aging skin. To the finished infused oil, I also add a few drops of Blue Chamomile essential oil.
Title: Tracklist | An original, mature, Ed Sheeran fanfic CO-AUTHORED BY:@tea-and-toblerones and @sippin-on-red-wine Rating: Mature (SMUTS my dahhhling, SMUTS)
Note: ARE YOU GUYS FREAKING OUT????!!! CAUSE WE ARE! This will be a full-fledged Chapter fic. We are DYING to know what you think so please comment/reblog/inbox/anon and spill the beans!
“You nervous Jac? Today’s the big day. The first client you’ll handle yourself. Now this is a big step but I have faith you’ll do just fine.”
I took a deep breath in an attempt to hide my nerves. This was the first day I was at the controls. I had been looking forward to this day for weeks. As soon a Mark had brought up that he’d be comfortable letting me handle stuff solo or as he described it guidance from afar, I felt the butterflies hit. It’s what I’ve been working so hard towards. Now that it was finally happening I couldn’t believe it. He paused outside the recording room, his hand on the door knob.
“Now, I’ve put you with our easiest client. They’re laid back, not harsh, not overly critical. They’re patient and are completely understanding.” They must be the closest thing to training wheels I get. “They’re also very hands on with the whole process so you’ll be working pretty long days elbow to elbow with them.” His voice grew a little sterner, “Now I will be checking over your work to make sure it’s up to snuff and will sit in on a few sessions just to make sure you’re doing everything correctly.” His face broke into a smile, all previous sternness gone. “Now, are you ready to see who you’re going to be working with?”
I nod, taking another deep breath, my excitement levels creeping up to near maximum. This is it. My dream is finally coming true. This is my first big step in the music world.
Mark opens the door, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries with who’s ever on the other side of the door. He turns back to me, motioning for me to come in. My eyes grow wide in shock when I’m staring Ed Sheeran in the face. I thought I had caught a glimpse of surprise flash behind his eyes but whatever I saw was quickly replaced with a warm and friendly smile.
“Jac, I’d like you to meet Ed.” Mark smiles, practically bouncing with excitement. Oh no, no… “Ed, this is my intern and apprentice Jaclyn.”
Ed offered out his hand, which I took, the shock still evident on my face. Ed smiled as he grasped my hand “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Jaclyn. I have a feeling we’re going to get along just fine.”
This can’t be happening.
Mark laughed, clapping his hands together, the sudden loud noise making me flinch. “I knew you’d be surprised that it’s such a huge powerhouse in the music world. It was worth keeping it all a surprise from you just to see your reaction! Not only is he huge, this is his big album after coming back from a year’s hiatus!” He was still beaming, “We won’t start anything serious until tomorrow so I’ll leave you two to figure out scheduling and whatever else might need ironed out.” He shook Ed’s hand one more time before walking out the door.
As soon as Mark left I sank down into the couch, grinding the heels of my hands into my eyes. I hear Ed’s footsteps growing closer to me. I expected to feel the couch sag beside me but the soft shuffle told me he had decided to perch himself on the table instead. I raised my head to see him staring at me with a smug look on his face, his arms coming up, crossing his chest.
Pike and Scanlan. I could see Pike as a slightly more ethereal bard, but I want to see what a cleric Scanlan would be like.
Fun fact, did you know Pathfinder has a diety that ascended to godhood accidentally and continues to spend his time drinking and carousing and telling tall tales?
Scanlan is ten, maybe eleven, when he sneaks in the backdoor of the tavern that will change his like. It’s name, Freedom’s Fortune, sounds like as likely a place as any to try and talk someone into a meal for the night. He’s getting a little old for the ‘poor child’ routine, and in all honesty, it’s only because humans are shit at telling the ages of gnomes he’s been able to milk this as far as he has. There’s a man sitting at the bar, already deep in his cups with half a plate of food in front of him gesturing wildly to an uninterested audience that has easy mark written all over him.
So Scanlan goes up to him, all wide eyes and ‘gee mister’s and ‘won’t you tell me that one again’s and against his own will, gets sucked into the story. Dressed in simple chainmail, the man at the bar speaks with an authority that belies the number of tankards in front of him. He speaks of the freedom of the open road, of the good that a stalwart adventurer could do in the world, of the joys to be found in a good cup of ale coming in off the road, and he does it all with a glitter in his eye that Scanlan envies.
Scanlan, because he is just a kid and starving, steals a tankard off the bartop when everyone else is looking the other way, distracted by a brawl between the half-orc performer and an unruly farmer.
He tries to pawn the tankard the next day, and finds it returned to his pack by nightfall, his coin purse eight copper lighter.
how would bakugou and todoroki act if they were both trying to romance the same girl ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) (and good luck with the blog!! ^^ ))
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Oh man, these two. It’s basically a silent fight over who could get more praise from you and getting to spend time with you as much as possible with these two as rivals haha
Anywaaaaay… This accidentally became the prompt for my celebrating 300+ followers project? *nervous laugh* In summary, there’ll be four parts, and from part 2 the story kinda branches out depending on your ‘choice’? (But of course you’re free to read both!) That sounds good? Ok? Ok. Enjoy!
Bakugou had as much sense of romance as his temper – or to put it simply, nonexistent.
Todoroki was no romantic, he’d rather freeze himself than say all those popular and cheesy pick up lines.
Funny how the two guys with no sense of romance fell in love with the same girl, who was denser than brick and diamond combined.
“Good morning, Todoroki-kun,” your gentle voice roused him from the hands of sleepiness that had been pulling him down into unconsciousness. He couldn’t believe his luck. To be able to see you the first thing in the morning, and knowing that such coincidence might happen again in the future completely woke his laggy mind.
“Good morning,” he paused for a second and decided to add in a strike of boldness and bravery, “You look particularly– neat– this morning.”
“Thank you! You look as sharp as always. Should we go together to class?”
This had to be because he let that stray kitten finish his lunch yesterday. Good things always comes back to you, they said. This had to be some kind of good karma his mother used to tell him when he was younger.
He could somehow smelt your shampoo as you fell into steps beside him – or was that just you? Do girls normally smell this good? Does noticing this make him a pervert? The calm in your eyes made the slight brushing of your shoulder with his own even more unbearable. He could’ve swore his heart was caught on fire at the minuscule contact, and he really hoped he wasn’t blushing.
Out from the corner of his eyes, he saw a certain blond giving him a death glare.
“Step aside, you idiot!”
You looked positively surprised and alarmed at the urgency in his tone, and Bakugou scolded himself for losing his cool so easily at the notion of you getting hurt by a measly, small, and harmless baseball. Well, not exactly harmless seeing as hair-for-brains had thought it was acceptable to use his own hardened arm as a substitute for a wooden bat, but still.
“Oh, thank you, Bakugou-kun! I didn’t see that ball,” your simple gratitude made something inside him felt mushy and warm all over.
“I didn’t do it for you, airhead idiot! Don’t get too full of yourself!” he bristled, the permanent scowl on his face softened ever the slightest for a drop of second, “Pay attention to where you’re going, nitwit.”
“I will, thank you for the reminder!”
The warmth spread to his cheeks, and his grip on the small white mall crushed the poor sphere. Kirishima yelled in protest because it was his owned item, and Bakugou yelled back shut the fuck up, unless you want a broken baseball shoved down your throat.
Meanwhile, red-and-green eyes watched the scene unfold behind the glass window on the second floor.
It wasn’t surprising to say that the whole 1-A was quite the tight-knit group. There were many factors contributing to this fact: the small class size, the similar goal they shared, the rivalry that sparked between each other, and their numerous encounters with villains, however unplanned, did more good than bad. Their bonds grew even more under the closed dorm environment, and they adapted almost immediately to the change of lifestyle. So well, in fact, that on one particular group movie night, Ashido came back from the bathroom looking sulky and literally announced to the whole class that she had gotten her period and she needed tampons.
The boys seemed horrified and unsure of what to say to that, because really, how were they supposed to respond?
“Uh, would chocolate help?” Satou piped. Ashido beamed. The male population of the class sighed inwardly in relief. At the very least they would get spared from another boring lecture on ‘what to consider when you are living in a dorm with some girls who could kick your asses if they wanted to’.
Jirou offered to give her stash away in a much softer tone, and suddenly Uraraka had an idea.
“Why don’t we all go shopping for our necessities at the dorm? This time, the whole 1-A?”
And that was precisely why you were now standing in the middle of the crowd, along with your classmates – most of them excited, but some seemed indifferent or weren’t too pleased to be here.
“For efficiency, I suggest we split into groups, just like before,” Yaoyorozu suggested, “Who doesn’t really have anything to buy?”
Your hands slowly raised above your head. And so did Uraraka’s, Todoroki’s, and Bakugou’s. The cheerful girl waved and bounced towards you in excitement after you received the shopping list from your class’ vice president. Your other group mates joined soon after, and your small group departed towards the mall’s department store.
“Tch. This is stupid,” Bakugou growled under his breath, glaring at the trolley as if he wanted to incarnate it using his eyes.
“Do you want to switch job pushing the trolley?” You asked, not wanting to make the short fused male do what he didn’t want to do. The fact that he came in itself was already shocking, afterall.
“You have the list. I think Yaoyorozu wanted you and Uraraka to choose,” Todoroki said before his friend could respond, “The both of you would probably do the job better than us.”
“You think so?” You threw a smile at the boy and read over the list once more, intent to do your part as a good dorm mate and missed the spark that seemed to prickle between the two boys’ glare.
“We need some common items for the fridge in the kitchen and restocking the snacks in the cupboard,” Uraraka summed up after she skimmed over the list and led the the group into the store.
The four of you leisurely walked towards the first shelves you saw, picking up things that might be useful for everyone and double checking the list to make sure you hadn’t missed anything. Such a mundane activity would normally be boring, but shopping with your friends could never be boring especially with Uraraka present to brighten the mood, not to meantion you could somehow feel at ease with the two boys guarding the rear, mostly silent but helpful to check the items.
Everything went well until you arrived in the vegetables section. Truth to be told, you knew absolutely nothing about choosing good ingredients, and so did Uraraka who confessed that she would usually just pick the cheapest one. You held a carrot in one hand and was trying to determine whether it was good, but what exactly defined a ‘good’ carrot? You had no idea.
“It’s better to pick the medium sized ones,” Bakugou said, full with boredom, “Thicker carrots are tough and harder to cook with.”
The sudden advice threw you off guard but filled you with relief. “Really? I didn’t know you were so good at these, Bakugou-kun! Then again, I suppose you did handle the knife really well back then on the school trip…”
“I-It’s just common sense, dumbass,” he scowled when you beamed at him. His heart was slamming stubbornly to his ribs and he was holding back the urge to look away from your smile.
“You know, maybe you could help us choosing the ingredients? To be honest I don’t really know what I’m doing,” you scratched your head in embarrassment, expecting to understand if Bakugou declined. But to your surprise he leaned forward to read over the list on your hand and walked over towards the potatoes, easily picking them up and tossing them into the plastic bag.
“Thank you, Bakugou-kun!” You cheered along with Uraraka.
Bakugou smirked as he placed the vegetables into his own trolley. Todoroki’s grip might have tightened a little harder than necessary around the handle, but oblivious to the small exchange, you and Uraraka marched ahead.
Your steps slowed to a halt however, when you saw the array of fridges containing sweet treats, eyes widening in recognition.
The white-red haired boy noticed this and pulled over on your side.
“Which one do you want?” Todoroki’s hand wrapped around one of the display fridges’ handle, “I remembered you liked this brand’s product. You should pick one.”
You were shocked at the sudden proposition and the fact that he had remembered the small fact you had told him randomly on your mindless chatter with him, “Oh, but won’t it melt? We still need to go to other stores…”
“It won’t. I could hold on to it.”
“But that would trouble you–”
“I don’t mind.”
You gave him a sincere smile and patted his right arm gratefully before pointing towards your favorite pint of cold snack, “You’re too kind. Thank you, Todoroki-kun!”
Despite the ability residing on his right side, the place you touched seemed to burn warmly. Unbeknowst to you, when you stalked off to Uraraka to call her over, the two boys’ eyes met and narrowed in glares, exchanging a silent message.
Neither was going to give up, hell no – this was the one fight they refuseto lose.
Mary: [over the phone] Some of the bombs landed close to the London House.
RAF Captain George Crawley: Well is everything still there?
Mary: [over the phone] I’m not sure, Anna shut the curtains.
George: Did you try the Fire Department?
Mary: [over the phone] Well I thought about it.
George: Are you OK? Are you hurt?
Mary: [over the phone] No I’m fine. I’m fine.
Mary: [over the phone] Well they were a bit… close.
George: [concerned] Mom, are you hit?
Mary: [over the phone] No… But Henry has.
George: [calmly] Oh, OK.
RAF Mechanic Sybil Branson: *eating George’s Chocolate bar* Is Mama hit?
George: [to Sybbie] No, Henry is.
Sybbie: [calmly] Oh, OK.
George: Listen, Mom, what sort of state is he in?
Mary: [over the phone] Oh, he’s fine. Bit under the weather.
George: I see.
Sybbie: What’s the deal?
George: [to Sybbie] We may have to kill my step-dad.
Sybbie: [Calmly Shrugs and continues to eat]
Mary: No, George, it’s fine. There’s no need to make a fuss. Me and your father are fine!
George: He’s not my dad!
Mary: Oh, George …
Sybbie: [In George’s ear] We’re coming to get you, Mama!
George: [Pushes Sybbie back in annoyance and hangs up]
LATER AT THE AIRFIELD
Sybbie: What’s the plan then?
[cuts to dream sequence]
George: We take the staff car, we drive over to Granny and Donk’s London House, we go in, take care of Henry - “I’m so sorry, Henry” - then we grab Mom, we go over to Victoria’s place, hole up, have a cup of Joe and wait for this whole thing to blow over.
Sybbie: Why have we got to go to Aunt Rose’s place to check on Victoria?
George: Because we do.
Sybbie: But she dumped you!
George: I have to know if she’s all right!
George: Because I love her!
Sybbie: All right… gayyy… I’m not staying there, though.
George: Why not?
Sybbie: If we hole up, I wanna be somewhere familiar, I wanna know where the exits are, and I wanna be allowed to smoke.
[cuts to dream sequence again]
George: We take the staff car, go round Mom’s, go in, deal with Henry- “Sorry, Henry!” - grab Mom, go to Victoria’s, pick her up, bring her back here, have a cup of Coffee and wait for this whole thing to blow over.
George: No, no, no, no, no, wait, we can’t bring her back here.
Sybbie: Why not?
George: [looks out at the damaged airfield] Well, it’s not really safe, is it?
Sybbie: Yeah, look at the state of it. And you’ve been shot down twice since Dunkirk.
George: Where’s safe? Where’s familiar?
Sybbie: Where can I smoke?
[George and Sybbie pause then slowly make a realization]
George: [cuts to dream sequence a third time] Take car. Go to Mom’s. Kill Henry - “Sorry.” - grab Victoria, go to Downton, have a nice cold pint with Marigold and Thomas, and wait for all of this to blow over. How’s that for a slice of fried gold?
Liam and I took the train to Reading earlier that Friday evening, with Niall driving over later after his scheduled practice ended to meet up with us at some local pub. The festival was the next day and with Liam already having secured two hotel rooms adjacent to each other, we decided to make a longer trip of it and leave a day early, hitting up this nice little grub and pub. Some good food and equally as good drinks, it was nice getting to finally relax and to also see Liam letting loose a bit. It had been awhile since I had seen him like this, a little bit sloshed and his inhibitions down, and it brought me back to when we had first started dating. The thing was, when I met Liam he had just started uni and was a bit of a party boy, his drinking couldn’t match Niall’s by any means, but he sure did try and keep up to the best of his ability. He was loud and fun and silly, a huge flirt with his big doe eyes and heart stopping smile; he could charm the pants off any girl that he wanted.
I guess you could say that’s how he bagged me. I hadn’t had much experience dating guys by the time I decided to move from Birmingham. I had just turned 20, dropped out of uni and left home to try and follow my dream of opening my own yoga studio and quickly fell right into a relationship with him, not even a few weeks after getting settled in London. He was everything I was looking for, everything that I needed at the time. He was sweet and supportive, caring, thoughtful and an absolute joy to be around. He was unlike any boy that I had known back home and that in itself had attracted me to him right away.
I had felt a connection to him that, at that time, I had yet to feel towards anyone else.
It had been a long, tiring day of collecting souls and seemingly endless paperwork. Eric nearly ran out of his office when his shift was finally over.
Deciding that he’d deserved it, he ported to an alleyway in London, heading for one of his favorite pubs for a cold pint. He paused mid step when he caught a whiff of sulfur in the air. A groan escaped him. Demons? Now? Really?!
He sighed and looked around him, but saw only darkness. “Show yerself, demon,” he growled, fingers itching at the thought of a fight. He summoned his death scythe just in case…
This is a story that I’ve posted bits of way before, when I was hardly doing anything with this blog. It’s actually twenty-two chapters in, so while I’m not able to spend as much time as I’d like writing new things right now, I’ll share this story with you guys, give you something to read until I can get back on track with everything. This is the first SPN fic I wrote, so forgive me if it is rough in places. Also, @busybee612 made me do it. If you guys don’t really like it, I’ll pull it.
South Mosely has said goodbye to almost everyone near and dear to her. She thought she had gotten used to it, but that was before the lights started flickering wherever she went; that was before a blast from the past came cruising into town in a 1967 Chevy Impala.
Part One: Flickering Lights
Pairing: Dean x OFC
Word Count: 2500
Warnings: Couple of swear words. Dean gets punched in the face.
Jamie and Claire one-shot, adapted from a previous work of mine. My first foray into JC fanfic, maybe not the last.
x X x
The Glasgow karaoke bar is packed. Laughter mingles with loud songs and clinking glasses. One particularly shrill peal of laughter turns my head, and that’s when I see her.
Her curly brown hair crimps over her shoulders, and she leans into a medium-built man, straining to hear his words over the music. They are clearly together together, even though they are sitting with two other girls, one gorgeous and brunette, the other short and spiky-haired.
My eyes are riveted, and only when Rupert pokes me in the ribs do I stop staring. He smirks, and I roll my eyes. “She has a boyfriend, Rupe. Drop it.”
“I didn’t say anything,” he says, but he looks otherwise. Soon, he is distracted by our friend Angus as they pore over the thick white ring binder that holds the bar’s song selections. Then, I am free to return to my shameless staring.
I watch as a server stops by the girls’ table, depositing plates of potato skins with black pudding and a few pints. My eyes follow the brunette and the short one as they get up to sing “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.”
They are obviously having the time of their lives, strutting and making these choreographed dance moves, like they’ve been practicing for months. This time, I notice it’s Rupert and Angus who are entranced, unable to keep their eyes off these girls. I grin, smacking each of them upside the head as I stand to get us more pints.
I tell myself it’s unavoidable - I have to walk past her table to place my order at the bar. I sidle close, gesturing to the bartender for three lagers. And then I hear the girl’s voice. I know it’s hers, posh and English, because it couldn’t belong to anybody else.
“Come on, get up there with me!”
“No, Cee, it’s not really my thing.” The man’s tone is cutting.
“Just one song. Frank, no one cares if you’re good or not. I mean, listen to these blokes!”
I turn my head casually towards the stage. I notice that Rupert and Angus finally grew a pair and were singing “Livin’ on a Prayer.” Actually, they were butchering it, what with Rupert’s high-pitched wails and Angus attempting the robot sound effect. They are head-banging and air-guitaring the shite out of the song. I duck my head away, laughing and embarrassed.
This Frank man shakes his head, distracted by his phone. The girl - Cee - Is still looking through the song book. I still don’t know why I can’t stop looking at her; I wonder at her name, Cee. It has to be a nickname, and I wish I knew what it stood for.
“Hey, here ye go. That’s £12, please.” The bartender nudges my hand with the cold pint glasses. I hand over fifteen, and tell him to keep the change. As I head back to my table where Rupe and Angus are now waiting, I catch Cee’s eye. She smiles shyly, and looks down at the table.
Her whiskey eyes are luminous, even in the dark.
o O o
His eyes are still on me. I meet his azure gaze, and I swear my breath hitches. It should creep me out, but it doesn’t. It’s electrifying.
Frank sits next to me, texting on the damn office phone. Suzette and Mary trip off to the ladies’ room after their performance, laughing hysterically and eliciting catcalls from a bearded dark blond and a man-bun sporting guy, who then proceeded to take the stage and pretty much massacre a Bon Jovi song.
Frank had reluctantly agreed to take my friends and me out for the night. I had promised them a girls’ night, a break from grueling nurse training. But he had insisted we see each other, and things are so strained between us lately that I don’t have the heart to say no. Suzette and Mary hadn’t minded, though they are subtly ignoring him at every turn.
“Come on,” I try to persuade him gently. “Here, you pick the song, anything. It doesn’t have to be a duet -”
“Cee, I told you, I don’t sing!” Frank cuts me off a little too loudly and too rudely. The man with the blue eyes and beautiful fiery hair has not moved far, and turns to us, nostrils flaring and jaw clenched at Frank’s outburst. I’m used to Frank’s bluntness, and not easily offended, so I shake my head slightly at Blue Eyes. He backs off with a nod.
“Fine,” I snap, picking up a potato skin and smothering it in sour cream.
Suzette and Mary bounce back, giggling and waving at the cute blokes. I notice that Blue Eyes is with them, as he sits at their table. I try to ignore the pull of his gaze and focus on my friends.
“So, what did you pick?” Mary asks brightly.
“Nothing. Frank won’t sing.” I try to keep the sullenness from my tone.
Frank’s phone rings, saving him from a reply. He looks at the display screen, inexplicably flushing red. He excuses himself, sprinting for the door. I roll my eyes, sighing after him.
“Well, we can do another one,” Suzette suggests in her French accent.
“Yeah, another awesome girl anthem!” Mary yells. “Maybe some Katy -”
“‘Firework’! Or 'I Kissed a Girl’!”
They go on and on about Katy Perry, spewing song title after song title. I interrupt once to ask them, “Maybe some Adele?” before I decide to give up.
“You know, this is rubbish, maybe we should just go home.” I move to gather my coat and purse, when Mary’s hand on my arm stops me.
“Claire, don’t let Frank get you down. Come on.”
“Things are strange between us right now. I don’t know.” I hesitate.
“You can sing, at any rate,” Suzette says. “You have a good voice, Claire. Let’s do it!” They pull me towards the stage, and we just have to walk past the handsome men’s table. I try to ignore the burn of Blue Eyes’ gaze on my back. While the girls talk to the DJ about cutting in front of the other song requests, I glance behind me towards the door. Frank still hasn’t returned.
Suddenly, I’m tired of being ignored all night, when I’m supposed to be having fun with my friends. I grab the thick song book from Mary’s hands.
“Yeah, I think I’ll sing something. Here.” I shut my eyes, and let my index finger travel down the page. I stop at random, and look at the song I’ve picked.
“Shit, it’s a duet. Suzette, can you - ”
“I’ll sing wi’ ye!”
The three of us turn, face to face with Blue Eyes.
x X x
I could smack myself. Blurting that out of nowhere? What the hell am I thinking, singing with another man’s girl? Even if I look like I could beat his arse.
“Excuse me?” The Cee girl asks politely, blinking at me in surprise.
“Sorry,” I stammer, “I just happened to overhear… not that I was listening in… but if ye really want to sing, I can - ”
“Yes, you can!” Her friends yank her arm, taking the book from her hands and practically shove her into my arms. The perky short one prances up to the DJ and whispers in his ear. Meanwhile, I glance around to make sure her boyfriend has really disappeared from the bar.
“Pushy bitches,” she mutters, and I notice that she is still clinging to me. I inhale deeply, the smell of verdant earth enveloping me. It’s heady and intoxicating and I don’t want to let her go. I glance down at her, and she blushes rosy red. Beautiful.
“I’m Jamie, by the way.” I release her gently, and we climb awkwardly onto the stage.
“I’m Claire. Claire Beauchamp.” She offers another shy smile, and I smile back - Cee didn’t seem to suit her.
The opening chords begin, a strumming guitar tune I vaguely recognize. I take the microphone off the stand, my hands sweaty with nerves. This seems like the best moment to remember that I can’t carry a tune in a basket. What the hell have I done…
She adjusts the mike stand to her height, much shorter than me. The male part lyrics flash across the screen, and I’m barely ready.
I don’t know you, but I want you All the more for that…
My voice shakes, pitch all over the place; I’m hit with bright lights and I can’t make out anything beyond the edge of the platform we stand on. I look at Claire, her hands trembling as she grasps the mike and joins my voice for the next part of the song.
Words fall through me, and always fool me And I can’t react…
She’s great. Nervous, like me, but she is surprising, a perfect soprano tone. Her voice overlaps mine and makes the song tolerable despite my horrible singing skills.
I catch some whooping from the general direction of my table, where her friends have perched themselves comfortably with Rupert and Angus. We glance at each other and smile as I continue solo.
And games that never amount To more than they’re meant Will always play out…
Claire is gesturing towards her friends at this point, some sort of shushing motion before she gives them a covert finger. I grin and touch her arm briefly, indicating the duet continues. I swear I feel a shock coursing through my hand at the contact.
Take this sinking boat, and point it home We’ve still got time Raise your hopeful voice You have a choice You make it now…
We are aware of the people whistling and clapping as our voices join and meld into one another, rising and falling, hers in harmony - mine in deplorable intent.
Falling slowly Eyes that know me And I can’t go back…
o O o
As the song ends, there’s cheering and hollering - despite the fact Jamie is completely tone-deaf. I catch Suzette and Mary waving their lit mobiles around like at a concert. Idiots.
People clap and whistle as we descend from the stage. My heart pounds and I blush furiously, and lean in to whisper a quick, “Cheers for doing this,” to Jamie. His scent permeates the air, citrus and spice and him. I am stunned for a second, and he flashes a smile in my direction with a soft, shy, “Och, anytime.”
There are introductions all around. I learn that Beard and Man-Bun are Angus and Rupert, newly infatuated with Suzette and Mary respectively. I insist that we go back to our table, much to everyone’s disappointment. I stumble as I sit on the banquette, drunk on something other than alcohol. The high from the performance is wearing off. Frank is nowhere to be found, as my friends gush endlessly. I cannot stop grinning stupidly until Mary’s comment grounds me again.
“You looked so good together!”
I am instantly sobered, and with a murmured, “Yeah, so did Frank and I,” I look around for the exit and make my way to it, rushing past Jamie’s table. I can feel his eyes on me still, his Scottish burr honey in my head.
The chill November air hits me hard, after the warm smokiness of the bar’s interior. I spy Frank leaning against the wall, still on his mobile.
“Hey, you missed - ” But Frank’s not listening; he hasn’t even noticed me beside him.
I catch the end of his whispered conversation.
“Love you too. Bye.”
I freeze, my heart pounding with surprise, anger, hurt… I’m not even sure.
“Love who, Frank?” I say quietly. He jumps, startled, but the guilt on his face is answer enough.
“Hey Cee, I - ”
“Was that your research assistant? The dean’s secretary?” I cut him off, but I refuse to raise my voice. I hold his gaze, and he sighs. Frank pushes himself off the wall, and faces me.
“Cee, things haven’t been working out lately between us, and I think you feel it too…”
o O o
I slump against the pub’s brick façade, hands behind my back. A lone tear had escaped during Frank’s rendition of, “It’s not you, it’s me,” culminating in his admission of a dalliance with a girl called Laoghaire. It drives the point home - it definitely wasn’t me.
I am surprised at how well I take it, probably indicating that the relationship was nearing its natural end. I manage to forgive him a little, and we hug. Frank even gives me his car keys, telling me he will come by tomorrow for it, and to pick up his things from my apartment. With a goodbye peck on the cheek, I was left to ponder the whys and hows of our relationship, and I can’t even find it in me to stay angry at Frank. I hated the nickname Cee anyway.
I hear the pub door open and a failed performance of “My Heart Will Go On” streams out. Jesus H. Christ.
My head shoots up. It’s Jamie.
I wipe my hand under my eyes for any telltale traces of tears. “Nothing. I’m alright.”
“So, did ye find Frank?”
“How do you know about him?” I ask, confused.
“Yer friends told me. I saw ye run out o’ the pub… I was worried about ye.”
“Yes,” I say. “I found him. He already left.” I gesture weakly down the street packed with weekend revelers and cars.
“Did he hurt ye?” Jamie’s voice is concerned, low and bordering on anger on my behalf.
“No, it’s not like that. We just - he broke up with me.” I don’t know where to look so I examine my shoes intently. He is practically a stranger, but singing with him had been so intimate, I can’t help but share this bit of me.
“A Dhia, I’m sorry.” I recognize the Gaidhlig as he puts a comforting hand on my shoulder. I feel it again, that electric tingle, like I felt when we sang together. So it hadn’t been my imagination.
“Thank you. It was time, I suppose. It’s over.” I straighten up, combing my fingers through my hair as the curls whip around my face.
“D'you want me to get yer friends?” Jamie offers with a lopsided grin.
“No, I’m going back in. Have a few drinks, maybe. Care to join us?” The words spill out before I can think.
“Aye, sure,” he says, visibly pleased. “Mind if Rupert and Angus join us? They’re quite… taken… with Suzette and Mary. They have a thing fer 80s tributes, as ye already saw.” He laughs, deep and rich.
“Yes,” I smile. “I think they’ll enjoy that.”
Jamie leans in suddenly, and whispers in my ear, soft, close, and perfect.
“You have suffered enough, and warred with yourself… it’s time that you won.”
Author:somemaycallmesunshine Pairing: Young John!Michael x Prophet!Reader
Reader Gender: Female
Word Count: 3k
Warnings: violence, blood, gore, anxiety attacks, angst, swearing, death, changes in season 5’s plot, also heavily implied God!Chuck (is that a warning?)
A/N: And welcome to chapter twenty seven, my lovelies! Can you believe we’ve made it this far? Thank you, everyone, for your wonderful support. You know I love you all infinitely. Parts of the episodes are weaved in through the plot with some changes for the sake of the storyline. (Visions as well as internal thoughts are in italics)
Summary: Takes place during season 5. With the apocalypse at foot, Team Free Will and the reader are doing everything in their power to stop it. But when their plans take a wrong turn, the reader gets kidnapped by none other than their enemy, Michael the archangel