everyone has a brother in law


A Reference Guide to Identify The Various Breeds of Gun People


-1911 People - 

>See .45 or Die! People<

“Because they don’t make a .46" 

"Back to back world war champs.”

“I’d never carry some cheap plastic gun.”

More likely to be older possibly obese.

Oddly enough, most likely to misuse the term “cocked and locked”

“Feel that trigger pull MMMMMMMM" 

"If you can’t do the job with 7 rounds you don’t need a gun.”

1911s can jam but THEIRS has NEVER ONCE failed in any way.

Most likely to use the term “Tack driver" 

"I fired a glock once, it literally jammed every shot then fell apart in my hands then raped my daughter.”

-Glock People -

Mac people of the gun world

“They just work.”

“Its not plastic its POLYMER!" 

Has a lot of passionate opinions about the arguably minor changes from one generation to another

"They never break." 

"Muh capacity" 

"Workhorse of the gun world”

“The arc is NOT ridiculously exaggerated just re-train yourself to automatically correct down it’s not that hard!”

“Its beautiful because it works”

“Well it fits MY hand just fine”

“Its not blocky!" 

"This is your safety!” >wiggles finger in your face like an asshole. 

- Kimber People -

Vegans of the gun world, will strut into any firearms conversation and proudly announce they own a Kimber Pro Raptor II and then wait silently expecting lowly peasants to applaud. 

Steers every conversation toward their Kimber

Fails to understand why not everyone can drop 1400 dollars on a handgun

Will get confused and personally offended if you don’t like Kimber

Self convinced that the outrageous price they paid is proof their gun is better. 

Most likely to be caught in a circle jerk with other Kimber owners.

- LC9/380/P  Owners -

Bought the first gun that the forum they found on google told them to. 

Wants to protect themselves but thinks guns are kind of scary, so they picked the most non-exciting gun with no sharp corners and like 12 safeties.

“Its all I need”

“My brother-in-law has one and he really liked his.." 

"Its for me and my wife to share”

“Why would I need a holster? Can’t I just put it in my purse?”

“Is the thing supposed to stay back like that?" 

"How do I get the clip out?" 

"I’d like to purchase this gun please… and a box of those really mean killing bullets for killing people in case I need to kill someone.”

- Hi Point Owners -

Most likely to have neck tattoos. 

“Ey yo, where like yo cheapest guns at?" 

"So how exactly does this ”background check" work?“

"EY BABEY come fill out this form for me!" 

"This bullshit I can’t believe I got denied!”

- Desert Eagle People -

Most likely to reference Call of Duty

“Can I see the Desert Eagle?”
>Are you 21?

“Most stopping power of any gun!”

Did not realize Desert Eagles were this massive in real life.

Can not wait to tell the rest of his middle school friends about the real Desert Eagle he saw.

- Revolver People -

Expresses bizarre distrust for semi-automatic handguns despite overwhelming evidence otherwise. 

Most likely elderly

Most likely to pull his own loaded .38 from his pocket for comparison then become offended when you ask to unload it first. 

Thinks NAA minis are a reasonable carry gun, does not understand why anyone would disagree. 

Assures you he can nail a tin can from 500 yards away with his Single Six despite his obviously severe palsy shake.

Will go into detail about what he paid for every gun 60 years ago. 

- M9 / 92FS People -

“Its the gun the military uses!" 

Most likely to be incorrectly wearing mismatched army surplus clothing.

"What if you get jumped by 15 people?" 

Will tell you its the gun he carried in the service but strangely fail to recall what unit he was with. 

Most likely to be open carrying KaBar on his tan MCMAP belt. 

- FNH People - 

Most likely wearing oakleys and a slightly too tight under armor shirt.

Uses the word "Tactical” at every opportunity.

Everything must be Coyote Tan

Is conviced that Chris Costa video he saw most of makes makes him an operator. 

Most likely to spend most of his range time taking cool action shots for facebook. 

Has strong opinions about 5.11 pants. 

Minimum of one Paracord Bracelet 

Will regularly scan right to left, just like that video told him.

Will run imaginary pistol drills with every gun you let him see, to demonstrate to you that he must really  know what he’s doing.

- Sig Sauer People -

>See Kimber People<

“The de-cocker is NOT a useless feature!”

Muh Quality Control 

Muh Resale Value

Thinks the high price is completely reasonable. 

“I really only needed one mag anyway.”

Will justify a P220 but thinks 1911s are too heavy.

“Yes I really NEED the Scorpion finish. 

INB4 Butthurt fanboys

Collectibles scammer now collects bad reviews.

This may get long but I will do my best to reign my ramble-y self in.
(tl;dr at the end)

Names faces and some details have been changed to protect the innocent and prevent more harassment.

My little brother(in-law…known from here out as LB) told me about a decent sized FB group devoted to a type of collectible we are both into. I join the group and he tells me about this great deal he took part in. The group has sponsored vendors a.k.a. people who throw a few bucks at the group’s mod and they get a shiny star saying everyone should trust them…keyword should.

Keep reading

shatt headcanons
  • shiro and matt are the power couple—the kind that everyone sort of just respects (bc think about it #space parents)
  • pidge has always seen shiro as an older brother so when he becomes the bro-in-law pidge is hella ecstatic
  • lance loves to ask matt about shiro and all the silly stories and trouble those two got into (and idc what other’s say, i’m a firm believer in shiro being someone who got into trouble a lot bc matt was curious and he followed him no matter what bc he’s in love)
  • matt and shiro are still in shock that they’re w the person they love again so they’ll sometimes just touch each other (on the shoulder, the arm, etc.) just to make sure that the other person is actually w them
  • they both have nightmares
  • and they both hold each other tightly when they sleep
  • matt gets cold easily and shiro is a blanket hog so sometimes matt has to battle sleeping shiro for the blanket 
  • but they’re happy they’re together and they’re in lov and lmao im crying
One Piece Boys as Students

• Super popular class clown.
• Fails in almost every exam.
• Sometimes he falls asleep in class.
• Always late for after lunch period because he’s not done eating.
• “Detention after class, Monkey D. Luffy.”

• Only good at P.E.
• ALWAYS sleeps in class.
• Late for class because he got lost.
• Keeps forgetting where his locker is.

• Average grade student.
• That popular guy with 10 girlfriends.
• Always dresses up neatly.
• Would secretly watch porn in class.

• Figuring out a way to cheat instead of studying.
• Has 1000 excuses prepared in case he got caught.
• Usually the one bullied.
• The one influencing Chopper to cheat instead of studying all night.

• Straight A’s
• That one kid who answers all the question the teacher asks.
• “I’m not ready for this exam I didn’t study enough” but gets an A anyway.
• Ain’t no time to party.

• The super popular hot guy every girl wants to date.
• Ultimate bad boy.
• Sleeps in class and doesn’t give a single fuck about grades.
• “Portgas D. Ace, please come to the principal’s office immediately.”
• Will kill anyone who dares to touch his brothers right then and there.

• Teacher’s pet.
• Excellent grade student.
• Has one girlfriend and only one.
• Polite as hell.
• Always concerned about Luffy.

• The smart ass kid who never seem to study.
• Straight A’s because it’s too damn easy.
• Sits at the back of the class.
• Corrects the teacher.

Eustass Kid
• Ultimate bully.
• Picks a fight with everyone and ended up in the principal’s office.
• The one guy everyone’s afraid of.
• Punk af.

• The one who talks sense to Ace.
• Average grade student.
• Avoids detention at any cost.
• Is wherever Ace is.

On a scale from one to ten

‘Master Bruce. On a scale from one to ten— and think very carefully about your answer— how much pain are you in at the present moment?’

Bruce let out a short breath and looked up at the brightly coloured chart with a grimace. The reds, yellows, and greens all seemed to merge together in a disorienting blur of printer ink, causing him to blink his eyes and squint at the diagram, a slight frown crossing his face.

Alfred raised an eyebrow at him in suspicion, and Bruce pretended to be pondering the chart in a serious manner. Truth be told, he couldn’t even focus on the text long enough to read the indicators of each pain level; so he picked a number at random that was both low, and green.

‘Three,’ he said, his chest throbbing even as he sat there, stoic, his back straightened and face expressionless to hide all evidence of how badly his injuries were really affecting him.

‘Three,’ Alfred repeated slowly, the faint glowering look in his eyes suggesting that he did not believe Bruce for one second. ‘Well, then. In that case, you should have no trouble at all doing ten push-ups for me, Master Bruce.’

‘Ten…’ Bruce stammered. ‘What.’

‘Ten. Push-ups.’

Bruce hesitated, momentarily unsure of whether Alfred was being serious or sarcastic. ‘Now?’

‘Unless your pain levels have suddenly escalated in a mere thirty seconds, leaving you incapable of exerting the necessary energy for ten pushups… yes. Now.’

This was a mistake. And Bruce knew it was from the moment he had lied so unconvincingly. But he sure as hell wasn’t about to admit to Alfred that every bone and muscle and ligament and joint in his body was on fire even as he sat there, and he probably wasn’t going to be able to do much else other than eat and sleep for the remainder of the week. Or at least, not if he wanted to heal properly. Which Alfred would most certainly insist upon.

Thus, after sitting there in a brooding silence for a moment, Bruce gritted his teeth and heaved himself off the table with a wince.

Ignoring Alfred’s cutting gaze drilling through the back of his head, he crouched down on the floor of the batcave, muscles screaming at him as he lowered his body down to the floor and pushed up, once. A burning sheen of sweat clung to Bruce’s forehead, dripping like dew down his back. Alfred’s mouth turned down in a deep, disapproving frown, watching Bruce’s entire body tremble in stubborn, petulant denial.

He went down for his second push up, and he struggled, fighting against gravity. He strained to push himself back up again, and a sudden wave of nausea hit him like a truck. His shaking arms gave out under him. Bruce collapsed into a heap on the ground, grunting in pain as the side of his head met with cool stone and sent his head spinning in a blinding flash of light.

Alfred observed the pitiful, groaning man he had raised lying still on the floor, his lips pursed.

Nn… what happened to the other pain chart,’ Bruce said into the ground, his voice muffled. ‘The one with the faces.’

‘Master Bruce, your face is always a four,’ Alfred sighed, massaging his forehead. ‘Always. It is not a useful means of measuring pain because you refuse to truthfully express any until you are practically lying on death’s doorstep. And even then, I’m afraid your face is less expressive than is normal. Now, let’s get you back on the table…’

He helped Bruce up into a sitting position and then slung his weak arm over his shoulder.

‘…and try this again.’

How Alfred was capable of supporting Bruce’s body weight in his sixties was beyond everyone. The best guesses thus far were Tim’s cyborg-enhancements theory since Alfie’s war days, and Duke’s waxing philosophical suggestion that “maybe Alfred is an eternal being who is Other, and is not confined by all the laws that govern normal human beings.”

At a close third was Damian, who had scoffed at his brothers’ preposterous theories.

Tt, my grandfather has lived for half a millennia, and can lift at least, if not more than my father’s weight.’

‘Ra’s al Ghul lifts?’ Tim had asked, a wide smirk spreading across his face even as Damian lunged at him with his sword and a look that could kill.

But no one had dared to ask Alfred if he’d by any chance taken a bubble bath in a Lazarus Pit recently. And Bruce certainly was in no condition to ask as he sat down once more on the metal operating table, grimacing and looking up at Alfred with a resentful expression.

‘On a scale from one to ten,’ Alfred said, unperturbed, holding up the pain chart once more. ‘How much pain are you in, Master Bruce?’

Bruce scowled at the chart for one long beat, the quiet draft of wind the only noise in the cave as the Batman and unrelenting butler had their stand-off.

But it is a truth universally acknowledged that, no matter who his opponent, in a battle of wills Alfred Pennyworth always and without fail, wins in the end.

‘Eight,’ Bruce muttered in defeat.

I wrote some tags for this post, and thought I may as well just turn them into a flash fic. So here you go. Bruce is ridiculous, Alfred is having none of it.

Thanks to @audreycritter for suggesting that Bruce’s face is perpetually stuck at an impassive “four” on the smiley faces pain scale… LOL

anonymous asked:

about the thing with aliens probably being larger: we have a large sample size of stars, and of animals that are very smart. most stars are red dwarfs, but most smart animals are flyers-so a world with a thicker atmosphere would likely have a large number of flying peoples, each with a low population.

I’m going to willfully interpret this as sky dancers are plausible aliens now and no one can tell me otherwise.

What’s that? You don’t know the glory of Sky Dancers? They’re so unknown there are no gifs on Tumblr with which I can illustrate? What?

This glorious mid-nineties series featured your average group of stereotypically-racially-diverse-except-there-are-two-white-kids-of opposite-genders-for-better-advertising-or-something teenage dancers with mediocre voice actors who, in the space of two minutes, find out their dance teacher is actually the “queen of the wingdom,” a kingdom without any apparent ground existing in an alternate dimension and she needs their help to protect it from her shady brother-in-law who wants to rule it, for undetermined reasons, and the wingdom apparently has literally no defense so she picks 5 teens who randomly found out her secret and grants them magical powers.

And it has one of the catchiest songs ever, okay?

Look at them. Something for everyone. I owned a toy of Camille, the green-and-pink one who is also the “modern dance aficionado,” because every teen just so happens to specialize in a different type of dance. In the show, she gains the magic power of creating cloud sculptures which again kinda makes you question whether these kids should really be in charge of defense because maybe something like shooting large hailstones at enemies would be more effective?

Aliens with big, fluffy hair, powered by dance, and who occasionally learn valuable lessons about teamwork and believing in yourself. But never the lesson of the girl who stops time would be an effective first line of defense every single time the wingdom is attacked, none of this silly flying around concocting elaborate plans and nonsense. But I gripe lovingly, because 1) now they are aliens and 2) this was designed to hit everything I wanted to see as a child, which was mostly brightly-colored magic girls regardless of plot and 3) at one point my family might have single-handedly kept the local Blockbuster Video in business by renting these DVDs so much.

Enjoy your ridiculous bright-colored toy-selling scheme of a tv show.

anonymous asked:

Random headcanons for Seven, please? ^^

ayyyy i’m technically still alive ;; but i am so tired holy shit. i think we got two asks for this? but i’m just gonna answer the one for now ^^

- Admin Ace in Space

  • okay so he’s that type of guy that LOVES the smell of petrol and car tires
  • also has a scented candle that smells like petrol
  • he has depression and when it gets bad, he just. doesn’t leave his bed. at all.
  • doesn’t talk to anyone, doesn’t eat, doesn’t shower, doesn’t sleep
  • someone help him pls
  • he also doesn’t want to go to a therapist, but will consider medication if MC talks to him about it
  • Seven definitely owns Cards Against Humanity and all its expansions
  • in addition to his usual pranks and silliness, he also likes to bring out the dark humor every now and then
  • everyone tries to keep Yoosung from playing with him bcs Seven has no mercy
  • whilst the others try to keep it down a bit for the sake of not traumatizing the poor boy, Seven can and will bring out the “sodomized by a silverback gorilla” card i’m like 94% sure that’s an actual card, at least i vaguely remember playing it once
  • there are few things he loves as much as seeing MC in his jacket
  • he usually complains about sharing it, but if they steal it and he sees them sitting around and looking all cozy and cute, his heart beats so much faster
  • also if MC is only wearing his jacket…….. they’re in for a very long night
  • he is a sadist, let’s not forget that
  • but he is also super super caring and showers MC in love and affection, especially at first when he wants to make up for being so distant and rude
  • aside from MC, the person he loves the most is his brother. Seven jokes around a lot and playfully pokes at Saeran whenever he can, but he would never ever want to hurt his brother again
  • he feels incredibly guilty and sometimes has nightmares about it
  • but he uses humor as his coping mechanism
  • so even if it seems like he’s joking around at inappropriate times, he’s doing that because it helps him deal with everything
  • also this is 100% a conversation that happened at one point:
  • “saeyoung what are you doing” “waiting for the sweet embrace of death”
  • and finally: he announced a movie night for the RFA once
  • and everyone was kind of unsure but they all went anyway
  • he rented out a drive-in cinema
  • you guys all know what’s gonna happen
  • cue a lot of yelling feat. him cackling in the background

The Signs as my Favourite Women in Literature pt. 2 (Earth)

Taurus – Juliet Capulet (Romeo and Juliet)
Juliet Capulet grows during the play from a naïve, childish girl into a mature woman. Her most outstanding personality trait is her willingness to do and give up everything for love. However, Juliet is very responsible and she would never risk her life if she wasn’t 100% sure. Right when she meets Romeo, she knows that she wants to spend the rest of her life with him. But different from the Montague-boy, she isn’t the type to rush things. Juliet knows of the necessity of staying calm and thinking the situation through. She is normally both kind and respectful especially in interaction with her mother. Before she meets Romeo, her actions are mostly driven by logic and her parent’s expectations. But as her feelings grow undeniable, she changes into a feisty, stubborn rebel with her own ideas of life and love. From knowing that she can only be truly happy while being together with Romeo, she gains an inner strength which makes her stand up to her parents and beginning to handle things her own way. Juliet is one of the strongest and bravest women in literature, risking everything for personal happiness, willing to leave everything that’s steady and known behind for being with the man she loves.

Virgo – Hermione Granger (Harry Potter)
At the beginning of the story Hermione is a shy, insecure girl. Her steadiest and most loyal companions are her books, in which she finds comfort. The young witch absorbs all the knowledge she can find and she is working daily to know a little bit more than the day before. Determination, patience and hard work make her one of, if not the most intelligent witch in the wizarding world. As she grows older, she notices that she can trust and rely on her qualities and she grows into a self-confident, passionate woman, who always comes up with a plan to a crisis. She develops a strong emotional connection to Harry and Ron and it is especially around them, that we see her as a loving and dearly caring friend. Although people see her as the pragmatic and concerned one of the trio, Hermione is not afraid of adventure and she would jump right into the most dangerous situations if it meant she could save the people close to her. She is very loyal and would probably sacrifice a lot for people or creatures in need of help. This brave, young woman never gave up on herself and thus grew into one of the most heroic and admired women in literature.

Capricorn – Antigone (Antigone)
At first sight, Antigone is a rebellious, stubborn woman without respect for the laws of secular rulers. When it’s said that burying her brother shall be forbidden, her first instinct is to go and burry him anyway, all by herself. That’s an incredible act of loyalty, not only in relationship to her brother but also in her duty to the gods. To get the rightful funeral for her brother is not only a sign of love towards her sibling but also a rebellion against the damnation of her soul, which she believes, she would suffer from by betraying the gods and their laws. To get what she wants, she acts strong, determined and will-full. It’s completely natural for her to do everything possible to live up to her own beliefs. She has her own, strict ideas of morals and ethics and everyone stepping out of her borders of right and wrong, will be defeated by her arguments and philosophical ideas. Antigone is uniquely powerful for her time and almost superior to others only through the way she speaks and acts. She is today’s definition of a feminist. Although mostly hidden by her warrior-self, she is a soft-hearted, loving woman who craves a stable future with her fiancé Haemon.

The Bastard of Winterfell Part 2

Jon Snow x Reader (second person) 

1393 words

Jon Snow is still trying to get comfortable around his future bride. But when she has low expectations for her first name day in Winterfell, he makes it her best one yet.

A/N: I had no intention of writing a sequel, but y’all seemed to like the first part, how could I not add on? I am planning a part 3 now, so stay tuned!

Part 1: http://onceuponaoneshotfanfic.tumblr.com/post/162619181618/the-bastard-of-winterfell

Part 3: http://onceuponaoneshotfanfic.tumblr.com/post/162772269888/the-bastard-of-winterfell-part-3

“I’ve heard a rumor, my lady.”

You looked up from your book. Robb Stark smiled down at you.

“And what rumor would that be?” you asked your soon-to-be brother by law, unable to help smiling at the man you were coming to love like a brother.

He sat on the windowsill beside you. It was your favorite spot to sit and read in the afternoons- especially when Jon Snow, your future husband, practiced with his sword in the yard below.

Robb’s smile grew. “Your name day is coming up.”

You looked down. “Where did you hear that?” you asked quietly.

“We have ways of finding these things out.” You glanced at him, eyebrow cocked. “Your father wrote to mine,” he admitted. Robb nudged you playfully. “Why didn’t you tell us? Your first name day in Winterfell… we should celebrate.”

You shrugged. “I don’t think name days are very important,” you admitted.

Robb’s eyes widened. “You don’t?”

“No.” You closed your book. It didn’t seem like you would get any more reading done today. “Robb,” you started, still not used to the familiarity he had recently insisted on. “I am the youngest of twelve children. Name days are more of a nuisance in my family than anything else. We never make a big deal of them back home.” You gave Robb a small smile. “Truly, you do not have to make a fuss over me.”

Robb looked thoughtful a moment. “Well, at least tell Jon. I think he has a right to know, considering you will be his wife.”

You groaned.

A smirk appeared on Robb’s face. “Then I will.”

Suddenly, he stood and sprinted down the corridor.

“Robb!” you screamed after him, scrambling to your feet. But it was too late. Already, he stood in the yard, talking animatedly to Jon, who looked towards your window. You offered a small wave. Jon blushed and turned to Robb, and began speaking with him with a serious expression. You sighed. Your first name day in Winterfell was coming, whether you liked it or not.

A couple mornings later, you stood in your room, preparing for your name day. You could not help but admire the dress you now wore; a gift from Lady Sansa. She admitted she had been preparing it as a wedding present, but hurried to finish it once your name day was announced.

A small knock at your door distracted you from further admiring your reflection.

You hurried to open it. There stood Jon. His eyes widened when he saw you.

“My-my lady.” He bit his lip, taking in the sight of you. “You look stunning.” He shifted nervously. “Happy name day,” he added quickly, planting a small kiss on your cheek.

You could not help but smile. “Thank you, Jon.” You stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek in return; his skin turned hot against your lips. When you pulled back, you could see the color rising in his face. “The first of what I hope are many name days I get to spend with you.”

A small smile escaped his lips. “I hope so as well, my lady.” He held out his arm to you. You took it as you began down the corridor. “I thought perhaps we could go riding today. I know a lovely little place by the river…” He trailed off, unsure.

“That sounds wonderful,” you assured him, the smile on your face growing.

“And then tonight we will have your favorite meal for dinner,” he reminded you. “And I believe everyone has small presents for you.”

Your smile widened. “I think this may be the best name day I ever had.”

At your morning meal, you received gifts from your future brothers and sisters by law. You thanked Sansa profusely for the dress; she was delighted to see that it fit perfectly. Robb presented you with a dainty necklace that went perfectly with the dress, which led you to suspect Sansa helped pick it out. From Arya and the younger boys was a set of new books. Even Theon handed you a bouquet of flowers, under Jon and Robb’s watchful eyes.

“Jon helped select them,” Arya whispered as she handed the books to you. You smiled as you skimmed them; already he knew your taste in books quite well.

After you received your gifts, the entire Stark house sang your house’s favorite song in your honor. It told of your great-grandfather, a brave man who led his armies to great victories for the North. Your own family sang it every name day, the extent of your name day traditions.

Tears welled in your eyes as your new family toasted you and wished you many more happy years.

“Thank you all so much,” you managed to say. Under the table, you took Jon’s hand. He gave it a small squeeze.

After your morning meal, you and Jon headed to the stables, where he had two horses already prepared for you. He nodded to the one intended for you.

“What do you think?” That look of nervousness from your first meeting played in his eyes. It was an expression you saw often.

You stroked the beautiful horse. “He’s gorgeous,” you breathed.

“He’s yours,” a voice behind you said.

You spun around and saw Lord Stark walking towards you, Lady Stark on his arm. The couple beamed at you.

“We recalled you mentioning a love of riding,” Lady Stark said. “So this felt like an appropriate gift.” She pursed her lips and glanced at your intended. “Jon helped us pick him out,” she added.

You curtsied to Lord and Lady Stark. “Thank you so much. I cannot express how grateful I am for this beautiful gift.” You smiled at Jon. “And thank you for helping them.”

There was that blush.

The two of you began your ride. At first Jon was quiet, as he often was when it was just the two of you. But soon you got him talking about his various practices with his brother and Theon, and he even began to ask you about the books you enjoyed.

Around lunchtime, you arrived at the river he’d mentioned. He helped you from your horse, holding you for a brief moment once your feet hit the ground. He brushed a quick kiss against your cheek.

“You look lovely today,” he murmured.

You could not help the wide grin that crossed your face. “Thank you.”

From his horse, Jon grabbed a packed bag. In it was a blanket he laid down by the river and a small lunch. He glanced at you as he pulled out the food.

“I, er, thought you might enjoy a picnic.” His brow furrowed. “And I brought a blanket so you wouldn’t get your dress dirty.” A small smirk appeared on his lips. “I think Sansa would kill me. Or ask Arya to do it for her.”

You laughed, and Jon’s smile widened at the sound. You joined him on the ground, careful to keep your dress on the blanket. “This is lovely, Jon.”

Jon reached into the bag and pulled out a small box. “I almost forgot. I got you a gift.”

“You didn’t have-”

Jon shook his head and handed it to you. “Of course I did.” A small smile appeared on his lips. “You are my future wife, after all. I need to get used to giving you gifts.”

You smiled and opened the box. Inside lay a lovely bracelet, decorated with silver snowflakes. You gasped. It was the most beautiful piece of jewelry you ever owned.

“Oh Jon.”

“You like it?” His eyes were begging you to say yes.

“Of course!” You held out your wrist. “Help me put it on?” He did as you asked, his fingers fumbling slightly. “Jon, this is beautiful.” You took his hand. “This is the most perfect name day I have ever had. Thank you so much.”

He took a shaky breath and leaned closer to you. “I… just want you to be happy. Here. With me.”

You moved your face towards his. “I think I will continue to be very happy.”

Jon nodded absently. “Good. Good.” He closed the distance between you and pressed his lips against yours. You sat there, kissing your future husband, a handsome and kind young man, and wondered how life could get any better than this perfect moment.

Welcome to the Netherlands - Poly!Hamilsquad x Reader

Inspired by the Write A Thon imagines (check it out guys) where they write imagines that take place in your home country or home place or whatever. I am not a part of the write a thon, but I just thought it would be fun to write a fic about the Netherlands, where I live! :)

Warning: SWEARING!

Originally posted by hamiltonmemes

‘Y/N!’ John yelled loudly in your ear, resulting in your almost punching him in the face and screaming loudly.

‘What the hell, John?’ You yell at him. You were looking at an text from your younger sister.

‘I’ve been asking you for like nine times what you want to eat for dinner.’ John groaned. ‘Hercules is going to a restaurant with his parents, Lafayette and Alex have to stay at work late, so it’s just us.’

‘Can we have stamppot?’ You ask. Its one of your favorite Dutch foods. John looks at you like you have just admitted to him that you’re the Wicked Witch Of The West.


‘Stamppot.’ You laugh. ‘You know I’m from the Netherlands, right? That’s something they eat there. I’ll make it for you. But we have to go shopping, we’ll also need rookworst.’

‘What is it?’ John asks while he stands up from the couch.

‘It’s like potatoes mashed with vegetables and you eat a sausage with it and  gravy. It’s delicious. God, I missed it.’ You say.

‘Well, let’s go then.’

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Corazon - The Hanged Man

The Hanged Man rises as Cora sacrifices everything for Law. Still alive when bullets should have killed him, Doflamingo takes his little brother back with him and keeps that he’s alive a secret from everyone. Cora fights however he can, but is too weak to escape from Doffy’s strings. Words are his greatest weapon as Doffy shoves in his face that he managed to capture and keep a god.

Cora laughs, “But isn’t that what you always wanted? To be a god? A king? And now your weak little brother has what you always wanted. Tell me, how does that make you feel?”

Doffy sews Cora’s mouth shut and make sure to tell him all about how he’s going to burn the world down around him, starting with killing Law right in front of him.

13 years are not kind to Corazon, just a puppet for Doffy to play with. A body double able to take so much and still survive. So on Dressrosa, silent not by his own choice, his body is forced to kill the very person he tried to hard to save. Law.

…Look, I will always do everything in my power to have Cora live… but that doesn’t mean its all sunshine and rainbows. SO HERE HAVE SOME ANGST.

kipseg  asked:

Could you tell us more hc about Otabek's brother please? (And his interactions with Yuri)


i just put these in some tags for lia, but i’ll throw them in here, too:

  • otabek’s brother, serik, is a few year’s older than he is.
  • because of this, he’s already neck-deep in college. he’s working on his law degree, because he wants to be a public defender. he wants to contribute to society, and he believes everyone deserves a fair chance, so he wants to put his skills to good use.
  • he has a pet chameleon named leon, because when he suggested it, the lizard wiggled his eyeballs, so obviously he approved.
  • his favorite color is green.
  • unlike otabek, serik keeps a well-trimmed beard and leaves his hair alone (his hair is a little thicker than otabek’s, and a little wavier, and it pisses their little sister off because she actually has to try to get her hair to look as nice as his always does). it annoys their mother when it gets too out of control, though, so he’ll get a trim when the mane gets past his shoulders (he wears it in a ponytail when he’s focusing).
  • reading headaches run in the family, so just like beka, he uses glasses to study.
  • he and otabek actually have a matching tattoo that they will NEVER tell mom about, oh god. it’s a little almaty sun on the side of their thighs. they got them together on otabek’s 18th birthday to remind them that their family will always be there no matter where in the world they end up.
  • the first time he met yuri was over that skype call, and he was immediately taken. yuri was just as attractive as otabek liked to rant and rave about, but he was also sharp. serik is very well aware of how severe the men in his family appear, and if that boy was able to crack wise on him right after meeting him and his father? he’s a keeper.
  • the first time otabek brings yuri home to visit is a few months before they actually start dating. serik and otabek are really close, and otabek won’t stop swooning, so serik actually has to threaten him to tell yuri about his crush just so he can get some DAMN PEACE IN HERE IT’S FINALS PLEASE BEKS.
  • nobody told him that yuri was so tall. yuri is so tall. serik has to physically look up to greet him, and he can tell it amuses yuri, because when they finally make eye contact, yuri snorts and sweeps him into a hug.
  • when otabek and yuri finally start dating, serik is on break from school, so he decides to use some of his free time wisely. he sits down at his laptop and spends two hours typing out a 10 page document of all the crazy shit otabek has said about yuri over the years. all of the weird observations, all of his metaphors about his gorgeousness and talent and secret intelligence, and the dumb shit otabek has thought about doing to impress him. his phone rings just as he hits the button to send the whole thing off to yuri and he grins as he answers, “HEY LITTLE BRO. I was just thinking about you!”

April 23rd, 2000, 7:00pm

Before Scully opened her front door, he puffed up the flowers - a last-minute purchase, the about-to-close-up clerk at the convenience store cursing him out while Mulder had tried to remember her favorite color - in front of his chest, put on his best I’m an ass face. Recently - or, rather, since they’d started seeing each other, maybe even before then - he’d realized that he had many of those types of faces. 

When she opened the door, she stood with her brow furrowed in annoyance - after all, no one else would come by unannounced this late on a Sunday evening - and with her pajamas already on, this pair some kind of dejected pink flannel that the season didn’t require. He could hear her little air conditioning unit, the one that dimmed the lights every half-hour, sputtering on in the living room though they day had been temperate. With her makeup off, her hair beginning to tire, and her big blue eyes full of contempt, he labelled her a hazard and prayed - shit, not the day for that - for redemption. 

“Hi,” he said feebly.

“I expected you to show this morning.”

Retreating into the apartment - possibly inviting him in, though he wasn’t so sure of that - she leaned against a kitchen cabinet, her back partially to him. On the table were two little wicker baskets, each old and vaguely Longaberger and filled with saran-wrapped cookies and little foiled chocolates. On the couch, a bunched-up blanket lay, and based on the slight humming in the air, he could tell that the television had been on before he’d arrived.

“I’m an ass,” he managed from the doorway.

Humorlessly, she huffed a laugh, and as he stepped toward her, he shivered, the air conditioning making the place too cold, the night beyond her windows casting them both in uncomfortable darkness. He clicked the door shut behind himself, then stilled for a moment, took in his surroundings; if she wouldn’t budge, then he would, so he stepped into the kitchen, opened a cabinet he knew held a vase. After filling the blown glass with water, he pulled away the plastic wrapping on the bouquet, stuck the flowers inside.

“You’re supposed to trim the ends before you put them in water,” she gave softly, and as he looked to her, he saw beyond the anger, past the quiet grief, and found in her eyes a girlish look of hurt, like he’d kicked her on the playground, like he’d taken her favorite doll and had torn its head off with his bare hands. The thought of having power over someone else still made his hands shake, and while he watched her take a deep breath and sigh it out to herself, he wondered about her thesis, about time travel, about going as far back as he could and rearranging their time together. First, he would’ve kissed her sooner, and second, he would’ve kept his word.

“They’re pre-trimmed,” he said even though he didn’t know if they were.

“Alright,” she digressed, leaning her back against the counter and crossing her arms. 

Under her gaze, he stood stock-still, his movements and expressions feeling overanalyzed, and though he could sense that she wanted him to speak, he didn’t know what to say that could mend things, make up for how he’d told her he would be here at seven but neglected to mention that he’d meant the evening, not the morning, or so that was his excuse now that he was stuck in her apartment with two Easter baskets on the table, each one put together by meticulous Catholic hands, both looking heirloom in quality. She’d invited him to church, to her fucking church, and he’d said yes despite himself, despite the nagging thought at the back of his mind that he didn’t do Jesus, despite how he knew he’d need to learn how to use an iron before that Sunday. After mass, they were supposed to go back to her mother’s - Bill and Charlie were in town, and Maggie had bought little plastic eggs to hide for the kids - and have mimosas and whatever sugary treat Scully had given up for lent this year. While he’d intended to have Easter dinner with them, he’d had General Tso’s while he sat on his couch instead. 

I’m an ass, he thought to himself as he looked at the decrepit flowers and the baskets surrounding them.

“Why did you come over, Mulder?” she asked, her tone hurt. “I got your message. I’m not sure you need to deliver it in-person.”

My message, he thought. That I’m incapable of any kind of commitment. That your brothers are only going to hate me more over the years. That you’re worth more than anything I can offer. That I’m broken and bruised and irreparable, as though I was ever good to begin with. That, ten years down the line, all you’re going to feel for me is nuptial contempt.

Taking a deep breath, he tried, “I came over to apologize.”

At that, she kept her gaze down, sucked in her lips, nodded to herself in agreement with whatever some voice in her head had just blurted. Something about leaving him, he figured. Tonight, he couldn’t hold that against her, found that he even agreed.

She looked up, met his gaze with a wronged woman’s fervor, said, “Then apologize.”

“I’m sorry.”

She huffed a sigh, pointed, said, “You’re an ass, and the door’s over there.”


“I don’t want to hear excuses because I know none of them will come anywhere near being understandable, and I don’t want to have a long talk about how you…you give me keychains instead, or wherever that could go,” she insisted, and he couldn’t tell if he was shivering from the coldness of the room or from how tears sprung to her eyes. “I asked you to come knowing that it was a big ask and that, if you wanted to say no, you would, but it was just Easter, Mulder! I know it was a big step, but it wasn’t that big of a step! And you told me you would come. You promised, and my mother made sure to set a place for you at our table tonight, and my brothers expected you to be there. You were supposed to be there.

“Scully, I-”

“My mother even got Melissa’s Easter basket out for you,” she said as though the statement were a threat. “My mom has one for everyone, Mulder, even for the kids and my sisters-in-law, and because she couldn’t scrape a new one together in time for you, she gave you my sister’s. It’s tradition, Mulder, and it matters to me. And you couldn’t even be bothered to show up.”

I deserve this, he thought, and he did. He’d promised but had stayed home anyway. He’d told her he would be there at seven. He’d told her he would press his shirt. He’d told her he would show up. 

“I just…” she trailed off, then let a tear slip uncomfortably. “I thought this was worth more to you than what it actually is. And i feel stupid for being wrong.”

“This?” He motioned between them, avoiding the baskets and flowers. “This? Scully, I-”

“Don’t say it,” she insisted with annoyance.

“This means…it means everything to me.”

“Then prove it,” she threatened. “Do something about it. Stop leaving me hanging.”


“You didn’t today. You had a perfectly good opportunity, but you didn’t take it.” 

“You’re right,” he forced. “I didn’t take it. I was a coward, and I screwed up, and I’m sorry.”

Dejectedly, she huffed a breath. He was beginning to hate that little quirk.

“And I’m bound to do it again!” he continued. “You know me, Scully. Next week, I’ll do something like this again, and the week after that, and the week after that, and you’re going to hate me. You’re going to hate my guts, and it’ll be justified because I’m the kind of person who can’t handle church and family and holidays. And I’m trying, Scully, I’m really trying, but-”

“Staying home instead isn’t trying,” she said evenly, dully. “That’s giving up. If you want to give up, then at least have the dignity to tell me.”

He took a deep breath, tried to calm his racing heart, searched desperately for the words that would make this right but found none. 

Looking up and meeting his gaze, she said flatly, “I think it would be best if you left.”

Yeah, he agreed, so he nodded to her, slowly peeled himself from the apartment, ran his gaze over every element within here. The rice-paper lamps, the couch that hadn’t been comfortable to sleep on a few years ago when he’d stayed over, the door to her polite little sanctuary of a bedroom, the little shakes of a running fridge. Though they could fight until morning, he knew that, sometimes, he could never do right by his mistakes, that it would take her weeks to trust him again, that, if this was the final straw for her, he would need to understand. Five months without commitment meant something, and though his mind nagged but you’ve been committed to her since the start, he was unable to find a recent example of that beyond taking her to happy hour two Thursdays ago and watching shitty sci-fi movies with her in his apartment. If a Mulder of his past were to see him now, even that sorry asshole would ask man, what the fuck is your problem?

Though he thought about kissing her forehead, about an I love you whispered as he shut the door behind himself, he was silent as he opened the door, as he went to take his leave.

“Take the basket,” she insisted from the kitchen. “I’m sick of looking at it.”

So he left the door ajar, came back under her gaze as he picked up the handwoven and aging heirloom with ulder taped over the engraved elissa on the basket’s front, and while he carried the basket to the door, he glanced back to her, watched her paw at her wet eyes with disdain.

When he finally came outside, the night comfortably cool, his car parked a few feet away, he felt his shoe stick in something, then looked down to see a defenestrated pile of yellow Gerbera daisies littering his path, their stems untrimmed. Taking a deep breath, he stood still, his gaze stuck on the way gusts of wind blew dead petals across the concrete sidewalk, the darkened scene reminding him of overgrown gravestones where people had left a pile of unkempt flowers a few days beforehand out of obligation. 

I deserve that, he thought, then headed to his car.

There Will Always Be Sunshine: Part 1 (Daryl X OC)

Originally posted by uncleardaryl


PAIRING: Daryl Dixon X Annabelle Grimes (OC)
WARNING: Violence, cussing & PDA
PART 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / ?
SUMMARY: Annabelle Jade Grimes knew the Dixon brothers before the Apocalypse, they were like family to her. They were even together when shit hit the fan, however. They got split up and reunited in Alexandria months later, but she doesn’t just get her best friend back. She also gets her big brother back, Rick Grimes. With her boys by her side, she knows the world is theirs for the taking.

“Hey, Annie, Eric and I are going to check out the group we saw yesterday. See if we should recruit them, you should help us out.”

“Fuck no,” Looking away from her car’s engine she’s working on Anna laughs, “Remember last time I went with Y'all? That family rather die than follow me. Which is what happen.”

Saying, Annabelle Jade Grimes is not a people person is an understatement and it’s not because of the world she lives in today. She’s not shy, scared or nervous around people either, she just doesn’t like talking to people. Even before the dead came back alive to eat the living she didn’t get along with people. Aaron shrugs while standing beside his boyfriend and saying.

“You were having a bad day.”

“Aren’t I always, though?”

She sends him a look before picking up a wrench from the toolbox. Eric and Aaron look at each other then back to the woman who keeps fixing the same car. Anna has been living in Alexandria for a few months now and the only ones she got along with were Aaron, Eric and the newest kid, Enid. Plus Deanna and her husband, but that’s only because Annabelle is their go-to girl when it comes to safety and advice.

“Yup.” Eric answers her with a tilted smile, “But that’s just because you need to get laid.”

“I did get laid.” She snorts as rolls under her car, “And was called a slut for a month.”

She was so used to that name, Slut. Not just because the folks in Alexandria call her that behind her back, but from the good old days when the dead stayed dead. Annabelle used to be a stripper and when she wasn’t doing that for a living she was hustling people at 8-ball at the local bars. So the names similar to Slut like tramp, bitch, and whore were often used when talking to or about her. To make matters worse she has never had a steady place to stay, she moved around from motel to motel or even to her car. Which is also a reason that made her never get a steady job. She has been doing the slut lifestyle since she was 18 years old.

“Oh come on, join us,” Aaron tries to persuade her, “This group is rough around the edges too.”

It’s no secret that Annabelle has a stronger personality than most, it came with living in different places constantly and conning people for what they have. She doesn’t do nice, she does the truth and some attitude. Anna has always been that way since her life was shit even before the roamers. Some even say her life was shittier than the life they’re living now. If Anna had, to be honest, she would agree, she only had a few good things in her life back then.

Her brother is one but she hasn’t talked to him for at least a decade. So the odds aren’t in her favor to find him in at the moment. She only had two other people in her life making it worth living, her two best friends. They were rough on the edges and not above the law just like her. Those three were the only people she lived for back then but she screwed things up with her brother 16 years ago. Then she got split up with her best friends in the beginning of the outbreak. So her life went from shit to shittier and it was like that for awhile until she came to Alexandria, that’s when things started looking somewhat okay.

“Plus, Deanna has a good feeling about them.” Eric thinks out loud hoping it will get Anna to come out with them.

“She has a good feeling about everything.” She points out in a bored tone, “She’s letting Pete do whatever to Jessie because she has a good feeling that he will one day stop.”

The boys are silent for a moment knowing what Pete was doing in his home with his family was wrong but it was up to Deanna to do something about it. So the community had to leave it be until she did something, which she never did. The guys finally realize it’s no use trying to get the stubborn woman to join them, she’ll just keep fighting them on this all day.

“Okay, Debbie Downer. You can stay here.” Eric speaks up, “But when we get back, I don’t want to see you still working on that damn Impala.”

“OK, mom.”

She jokes while checking out her black busted up 1968 Impala Sports Coupe. She needs to clean, buffer, paint and shine the crap out of it but the car itself was smooth as can be. Anna saved up money for this car when it was in the worst possible condition back when she was just a teenager. This was the car she drove at 18 when she left home for good. It’s also the car she slept in when she couldn’t afford a place for a night. She had this baby her whole life, it meant more to her than her parent’s life. People around here had no idea how hard it has been to keep this car after the shit the fan.

“Are you just going to keep working on your crap car?” Aaron sighs as she nods to his question, he then suggests after a moment, “Then you should try to get my bike working while you’re at it.”

“That bike is practically mine.” She shakes her head laughing, “I’m the only one who ever works on it.”

“And I love you for that.” He grins, “We’ll see you tonight, hopefully with that group.”

“There better be some hot guy for me in that group.” She calls out as Eric and Aaron began walking to the gate, “I’m getting lonely.”

“Don’t worry the leader is sexy in my book.”

Eric laughs as she watches them leave, Aaron sends his boyfriend a look and he shrugs in return. She smiles thinking about them, they were like family to her now. They were the only ones nice to her when she came there, but in everyone else’s defense, she was pretty bitchy at the time. She didn’t have much of a family before everything happening, well blood family that is. Only her one brother. Everyone one else in her real family wasn’t worth thinking twice about.

Thinking about her brother, the only blood family she missed, she goes into her car and into the glove box to get out a few pictures. This car and she have been through so much that she knows every nick and cranny in it. So she knew exactly where her favorite pictures are. She smiles at the sight of her old crumbled up pictures, she only has a few and they look like something got spilled on them but you could still see what’s in the picture. One was her older brother on his first day as sheriff. The other was her two best friends, one had the other in a headlock with a big smile and the other with a pouting face.

She lets out a shaky breath as she looks at the pictures, it hurts her heart how these are all she has of them. She takes them out once and awhile when she’s alone just to remind her that at one point she did have love ones around. People around here doubted that, sometimes she does too after thinking about how she left off with her brother and best friends.

“I’m pregnant!”

The whole family cheers and squeals instantly at Annabelle’s sister-in-law announcement. She knows she should be too but she couldn’t help roll her eyes as people circle around Rick and his wife, Lori Grimes. She loves her brother and all but for everyone else in the room, they could suck a dick for all she cared. Besides Shane, she got along with him just fine when he didn’t flirt with her.

Lori is glowing with a bright smile she touches her soon to be big belly, Rick has his hand wrapped around her waist as he talks to their family and friends. Annabelle however, is leaning on the wall furthest from the group in the middle of the room holding a nearly empty beer bottle. She’s looking at the time on her watch while anticipating someone’s arrival soon.

“Congratulations, son! We’re so proud of you! I’m going to a grandma!”

Annabelle and Rick’s Mother shouts while jumping in excitement. Now Annabelle sees why Rick wanted her to come so badly for the weekend, she didn’t even know everyone else was coming. He didn’t add that useful information when he called her, it was a smart move on his part, though. She wouldn’t have come if she knew, the only family she talks to is him. He kept telling her it was and even Lori tried to get her here and she never tried to get her to come, she lets her come but that’s about it.

“Annie, come on over here!”

Rick calls out to her using one of his many nicknames for her, he sends her his biggest doughy older brother eyes. Sighing she drinks the rest of her beer and begins walking to him but stops when she sees the look her parents, his wife, and her parents give her. She holds up her beer and makes the excuse.

“I need to get another beer.”

She wasn’t on good terms with anyone in the room beside Rick and Shane. Lori and she pretended to like each other for Rick’s benefit but when it came down to it Lori wanted Annabelle to fall off the face of the Earth. She couldn’t stand the way Anna lived and acted. Which is why it was weird when she got a text from her saying she should come over. Rick always wants her over but it was hard since she kept moving from place to place. It didn’t stop him from trying, though.

He’s been trying since she left home, she moved out right after of high school. Rick is only a few years older than Anna so he offered her to live with him when she did leave. She never took it, though, she wanted to get out of their small town as fast as she could. She couldn’t stand their family or the people around them and he knew why. He’s her brother, after all, he didn’t have to ask her why when he already knew. Their parents loathed her and the town shunned her at all times. He was the reason their mom and dad let her stay with them for so long and he was the reason she didn’t leave sooner. Thinking about it made Rick so mad at who his parents are because he loved his sister more than anything and he couldn’t comprehend why they treat her the way they do even when it’s irrelevant.

Truth be told, Annabelle was technically his half sister. Their mother cheated on their father and she wasn’t his. It was at the time when their parents were hitting all the bumps in the road. Rather than divorce their mother like he should have done to take his anger out, he took it out on her since she was born. She was just a reminder to her mother of her mistakes so she neglected her since day one. The only one in the family that has her back is Rick, but it wasn’t enough for her not to be emotionally scarred.

Rick lets out a worried breath as he watches her walk into the kitchen. She was still that five-year-old girl to him who used to cry every night. He could remember her crying saying that their family hates her and she was unlovable. It broke his heart hearing her like that, but he found out soon enough the best way to turn her crying into a smile was going into their garage and playing a game of pool with her. Their father notices him watching his half-sister walk out of the room and snorts easily.

“I don’t know why you even invited her, she’s barely part of this family, anyway. So don’t worry.”

“Dad…” Rick takes a step back and points at him, “Who’s fault it that?”

“Come on, sweetheart.” His mother rolls her eyes, “It’s no one’s but hers.”

“No, It’s not.” Frowning he thinks out loud, “How can you be so cold you to your only daughter?”

“We can because she is the only one in our family to become a disappointment.” His father snaps annoyed, “And how you even got her to come here sober, I will never know.”

Annabelle never cared to get her life together like Rick and it was just another thing for their parents to point out. She didn’t care how everyone saw her, it wasn’t their life to live. At the moment she was actually pretty happy with her life. She has a decent amount of money, her car is working perfectly, and has close friends she can count on, just that went over her standards for her life.

“Who said I came here sober?” Annabelle walks back into the living room with a smirk, “Maybe I’m just good at holding my liquor.”

“Great,” Lori rolls her eyes and looks away from her whispering to herself, “Just great.”

“Why are you even here?” Lori’s father barks at her.

She waves her beer at them with a casual smile and lies, “For the free beverages of course.”

It becomes quiet for the longest moment, people look at her like she’s crazy or like she is a criminal. She kinda is though but some of them didn’t know that and they sure as hell didn’t need to. Shane, Rick’s partner on the force, then nods to the back yard and announces hoping to break the awkward silence.

“I’m going to get the grill going. Come on, everyone.”

The couple’s friends and families then look away from the youngest Grimes and follow him to the backyard. Lori and Rick are the only ones left in the room with her, Lori has her arms crossed with an annoyed expression on her face. Rick puts his fingers through his short hair while humming out.


“I know, I know, I’m sorry. What did you expect would happen with the family and I in the same room?” Annabelle shrugs knowingly. “Last time I’ve seen them was at your wedding and that didn’t end well either.”

“I just wanted you to be a part of a special moment for me,” He lifts his hands up in defeat, “It’s like you aren’t even trying. Did you even know Mom has been going to the hospital for months now because of back pains?”

“About damn time.” She burst out laughing but stops at the face her brother makes, “Don’t give me that look they aren’t my family! Never was and never will be.”

“Please, just…”

Rick closes his eyes not knowing what to say, he looks so defeated and sad. Annabelle looks to the ground, she’s seen the expression from many people in her life. It’s always after she screws up or shows up somewhere unexpectedly. She couldn’t stand seeing the expression on her brother’s face. Knowing she has officially overstayed her welcome she sets her beer down sighing.

“You know what, I should probably head out. I spent too much time here, anyway.”

“No Belle….” Lori finally speaks up from beside Rick, “You can stay if you want.”

“Jesus,” Annabelle rolls her eyes at her sister-in-law’s voice, without looking at her she says, “Lori, We both know you want me to leave.”

“You’re always welcome here,” Rick declares not wanting her to feel otherwise.

“Am I?” Annabelle glances at Lori.

The three then hear Shane call from the back door, “I got the meat on the grill. Want to take over, Rick?”

“And that’s my cue.” Anna smiles sadly, “Call me when ankle biter comes outs. Always wanted to spoil someone’s brat.”

Rick smiles happily knowing that means she’ll be back, nowadays he didn’t know if he would ever see her. It seemed like they kept growing apart from each other, he wouldn’t say it out loud but he noticed it after him introducing her to Lori when she was his girlfriend. Lori is frozen in place with a cold look on her face, she finally fakes a smile and says.

“I’ll walk you out.”

“Drive safe, Annie.”

Rick kisses her on the forehead and tells her goodbye. After doing the same Annabelle lets his wife walk her to the front door. As she walks to her really old busted up Impala Lori slowly follows her. She is about to get into the driver’s seat when Lori blurts out quietly.

“Don’t come back.”

“Excuse me?” Annabelle turns to look at her seriously shocked, for a moment she thought she was imagining things.

“I know Rick loves you and you’re his only sister but you’re not good for this family.” Lori folds her arms determined, “I don’t want to raise this child with you popping up, you’re not a good influence. That’s why I wanted Rick to get you to come today because this has to be the last time you come over.”

“And have you talked to Rick about this?” She folds her arms defensively.

“No, and he will never know why you won’t come here anymore either,” Lori explains casually.

“What makes you think I won’t tell him?” Annabelle smirks and leans on her car.

“Because I know you don’t want to mess his life up, you’ve already done a lot of that by just living,” She sets a hand on her belly, “Besides you can’t possibly think you’ll be a good aunt in my child’s life.”

“Bitch,” Annabelle stands up straight and points at her in anger, “I could be the best Aunt you’ve ever seen.”

“But you won’t be, Annabelle, look at how you dress and act. How many times have you been to jail? Did you even finish high school? You don’t even have a real job! You hustle guys in the pool at the local bars for money! When’s the last time you had a steady relationship? Or an actual home?” Lori is yelling now like her life depended on it, “Rick has a family, a good job, with respectable friends and family! I don’t need you come by and screwing up my family.”

Annabelle takes a step back, she stands there just staring at Lori in disbelief. Her words cut deep since Lori truly believes Anna would be the worst family member to have in her kid’s life. Even though she never been around kids and has no knowledge about them didn’t mean she wouldn’t try to be to be the best aunt there is. Anna couldn’t believe what she was hearing, Lori wanted her out of her brother’s life for good. She’s barely in it as it is. Lori then whispers almost guilty.

“You rarely come here anyway.”

Anna rubs the back of her neck and opens the car door, her face is hard when she gets in. Looking around her heart drops after thinking Lori might be right. She has cigarettes and lighters in the cup holder with a flask of rum in her glove box. Without having to look in the back seat Annabelle knew she has empty beer cans and weed stashed under the seats. Not to mention her pocket knife stashed somewheres in her car. Just looking around her car she knew it wasn’t safe for a kid. She slowly turns on the car and Lori leans on it saying.

“I’m just doing what’s best for my family.”

She barely nods in acknowledgment, her sister-in-law then steps away from the car and she drives away without looking back. She didn’t notice the tears falling down her face as she drives emotionless. Driving to the motel she is staying at she takes a cigarette out and lights it. When she throws the lighter in the passenger seat she hears her phone go off in the same seat, picking it up she sees Daryl Dixon calling, her best friend. She lets a smile slip onto her lips as she answers.

“Dixon, what’s going on?”

“Nothin’, just my dumb ass brother getting us lost again. We should be in town in 30 minutes to meet ya’, brother. Hope he ain’t stupid like mine.” Daryl talks through the crappy phone.

She can hear Merle yelling close by, “Ya’ better be nice to the driver, baby brother. Aye, tell her I got some good shit for her brother to try. Wha’ his name again?”

“Shit, I forgot- and her bro is a sheriff ya’ dumb fuck.”

Annabelle laughs pitifully while letting a puff of smoke leave her lips as she speaks up, “Plans changed, you guys aren’t meeting him.”


Daryl grunts out, she was really excited when she told them she wanted them to meet him last week. She spent the last two days with her brother and she wanted him to meet her best friends the last day she planned to stay. Lori, however, changed those plans in a way that silently killed Anna.

“What she sayin’?” She hears Merle snapping at Daryl.

“We ain’t meeting him!”

“Fuck we ain’t. Give me the damn phone, Darylina. Imma talk to her.”

“Fine, take it! You jus’ fuck it up more.”

“Sweetheart, what ya’ talkin’ ‘bout change in plans?” She hears Merle’s trashy southern voice clearly now, “We cleaned up and everything fer’ him. You were talkin’ 'bout this for weeks now.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m not going to see him again.” She sighs and parks in front of her motel room, “Listen, go to the closest bar and text me the name. I’ll meet you as soon as I can.”

“What she sayin’ man?”

“She wants us to meet up! We ain’t seeing her big bro-” She hears a bunch of curses and then hears Daryl asking, “Wha’ happened, Sunshine?”

“You guys won’t ever meet him and I’m never going to seem him again.” Annabelle lets out a shaky breath and leans on her wheel, “So let’s just drop it.”

Daryl is silent for a second before grunting out, “We didn’t want to meet him anyway. Never was good wit’ officers.”

“Okay,” She bites her lip as it tries to smile, “Well, I’ll meet up with Y'all soon.”

Annabelle puts the pictures back into the spot she has kept them all these years. She can still remember the last time she talked to brother and thinking about it now she should have put up a fight to be a part of his and the child’s life. She never got to see his kid grow up but it was for the best at the time, the kid’s probably dead after all that has happened anyway. But now Anna has to live with the guilt of never seeing her brother or his kid, she doesn’t even know if he had a girl or boy. She walks to the hood of her car and continues to work on it, she bends over it to find the right screw. After a half an hour of working she has grease all over her hands and sweat glistening her forehead. Aiden and Nicholas come walking by her house acting pretty cocky. She could feel someone’s eyes on her ass and she glances over her shoulder to snap.

“Can I help you with something?”


Aiden smirks as he walks closer to her driveway making her roll her eyes. She hasn’t favored the two since she joined the community. They were too inexperienced and cocky for their own good. Aiden was just a spoiled brat because of his mother, Deanna, babying him and Nicholas was just follows him like a puppy. Looking back to her car she growls at the boys.

“Forget it.”

“We just wanted to know if you wanted to go on a run with us.” Nicholas then speaks up.

Annabelle snorts, “So I can get to be left behind like your last group? No thanks, I’m good.”

“We had to, they got bit.” Aiden defends, he comes closer to her with Nicholas following behind him.

“That’s the excuse of-” She shut the hood of her car and looks at them seriously, “- A coward.”

He flinches looking irritated, “You don’t know what it’s like out there-”

“Actually I do, I didn’t have a shelter like this until a few months ago. How long have you been behind these walls again?” She smirks at him and walks into Eric and Aaron’s garage. “Since the dead came back to life, right?”

“Yeah and look at you. You can’t even remember what it was like to be normal.”

Nicholas blurts out beside Aiden. She stops moving at his statement when feeling the urge to punch him. He didn’t even know her like that and yet what he said was true, it sickens her at how people just had to keep reminding her. She sends him a look before inspecting the motorcycle and sighs.

“Kid, I wasn’t normal, to begin with.”

“Figures,” Aiden snorts and looks to his friend next to him, “Come on, let’s get going. She ain’t worth any more of our time.”

“See, now you’re getting it.”

She smiles sarcastically at them before kneeling down to check the motorcycle. They finally leave her alone in the garage, she thinks about the comment Nicholas made about being normal. She never was but she could still remember what a normal day for her was like before the shit hit the fan. It was those days that made she smile today and make her thankful for what she use to have.

“God, damn it. Look at all my clothes.”

Annabelle snaps and looks around the motel annoyed, she’s only in her underwear and bra. There are two full-size beds that had a Dixon on each one. Merle was laying in his boxers watching the news on the pathetically small TV. Daryl is wearing nothing but old blue jeans and a pair of socks, he is popping some gas station nuts into his mouth as he secretly watches her walk around the room. She has gotten so use to them living with her she was able to walk around in her underwear without caring about it, the Dixon brothers thanked God when she did.

“What ya’ damn complaining 'bout now, fat-ass?” Merle glances at her then back to the TV but not before checking out her goods.

“Don’t call me that, redneck!” She throws a shoe at him, her clothes are scattered around the room as she waves her arms about saying, “I have nothing to wear.”

Daryl rolls his eyes and asks with a tired tone, “Then what are all these clothes on the ground?”

“Plus ya’ look better without clothes on anyway,” Merle adds, Daryl didn’t say anything but he agreed with him.

She throws another shoe at Merle and snaps while picking up clothes, “Look, dirty, dirty, beer stain, hole, too small, I have nothing to wear but my uniform for my job.”

Merle smirks, “Well, put that on then.”

She growls but doesn’t say anything, she worked at the strip club and wasn’t going to wear that around them. She walks to the small gross bathroom to see if she had any other clothes there, not noticing the way the Dixon brothers checked her out on the way. They lived in Atlanta for a month now, her car was in the shop and she needed money to repair it. The boys were paying for the motel with the money they had left so she had to find an easy way to earn cash. So here she was working for some lame ass strip club. She hears someone knock on the door and she yells.

“Can someone get that? I ordered pizza earlier for us.”

“Ya’ ordered it. Ya’ get it, sugar-tits.” Merle calls to her.

She storms out of the bathroom and puts her hands on her hips, “What the fuck did you say to me?”

“Here- what does a dollar get me?” He winks as he makes fun of her and her job.

“It gets a beer shoved up your ass-” She hears knocking on the door again, she glances at Daryl who is pretending to sleep, “I gotta do everything my damn self.”

Daryl hides his smile at her words as she walks to the front door. Daryl and Merle had this game they secretly played when she ordered pizza, she ordered it almost every day since they lived in Atlanta. They tried to get her mad and see if she would do something to the pizza delivery guy. Today is a bonus since she is opening the door in her underwear, one time she was high and that was hilarious to watch. Daryl and his brother never saw the guy delivering but he had the same voice every time. Annabelle throws the door open and instantly grabs the pizza from the boy and throws some cash at him. The boy stares at her in shock and she gives him an angry look.

“What are you looking at, Asian boy?”

“For the fifth time, I’m Korean- and you’re in your….” The boy says nervously.

“What? Never have seen a woman in her underwear before?” She snaps, the boy is silent making her burst out laughing, “Kid, why don’t you keep the change.”

She slams the door in his face then and pushes Daryl so she has room on the bed. The pizza smell invades the room making both the guys look at it hungrily. Daryl sits up a little and begins to grabs a piece of pizza but she slaps his hand away snapping.

“Y'all better not even try to get some of my pizza after the shit you two just pulled.”

Daryl grows and lays fully back on the bed, “Come on, Sunshine.”

“Should have thought about it when you were pretending to be sleeping.”

She waves her pizza in his face before taking a bite of it. Merle shrugs and takes out a bag of beef jerky from under his pillow. Daryl puts and hands under his head as he watches her watch the news. He smiles to himself as he looks at her naked back, he reaches out wanting to feel her soft curves but pulls away at the last second. She glances down and sees the look he is making at her, she rolls her eyes and nods to her pizza.

“I guess you can have one.”

She writes down some parts and tools that she needs for the bike as she cleans up the mess she made. It’s Aaron and Eric’s home so she didn’t want them to come back to a wrecked garage. Shutting the garage door she calls it a day and leaves to her house next to it. It’s 11 at night and she got slightly worried when the boys haven’t come back yet but they have stayed out there longer before. They were planning on bringing people back, though, so something could have happened while talking to the group.

Once in her home, she throws the paper with the list of things she needs on the counter. Getting a beer from the fridge and a bag of stale Cheetos she plops down on the couch. She usually slept on the couch in Eric and Aaron’s house since she was always over there but they aren’t here tonight she went back to her place. The house didn’t even look like she lived in it, besides her bedroom and kitchen. Those were the only place she usually made some kind of mess in.

Looking around the quiet house she laughs to herself, she finally got a place to call home that Lori would approve of. When they gave it to her for free with everything already in it she looked at them in pure shock because the place was the nicest house she’s ever seen. They out did themselves when Aaron showed her around the house. They gave her everything a typical house would have, starting with a bedroom to her own makeup bag.

The front lawn has a deck and a 50-year-old tree on the side. She has a big back yard with a shed with lawn tools, nice sized wood deck with a rocking chair, and a Barbecue grill. The house inside has everything you could want in a house too. She has a dining, living, laundry, and game room that has furniture and homie trinkets. Not to mention the two bath and bedrooms, that had their own clothes, towels, lady products and style. The house they offered her was better than any house she dreamed up.

If Annabelle were, to be honest with herself she was glad she didn’t have a house like this to call home before. She had people to call home and in her mind, that was better than any $200,000 dollar home. Because those people are priceless to her. The Dixon brothers were her home for the longest time, they went everywhere together. For the longest time, she couldn’t picture life without them. Once they got split up that picture died. They were together when the world ended, and it’s because that shitty Impala that they lost each other. So in a way, it was her fault for not being together.

Instead of going to her room she leans back on the couch to sleep. She didn’t mind sleeping on the couch it was honestly more comfortable than most places she has slept. Plus it was familiar to her, the queen sized bed upstairs always seemed cold and strange when she slept there alone. Her eyes begin to get tired and lets herself fall asleep.

“Annabelle! Anna! The group’s here! Come on!” Enid opens the front door and runs to the woman passed out on the couch, “Why are you sleeping on the couch when you have a bed upstairs?”

“Because I have a fucking monster under it that’s why.” Annie jokes without any humor in her voice as she slowly wakes up, “What are you doing in here? I thought I locked the door?”

“Uhh. You taught me how to pick locks, remember?” She sends her a typical teenager look, “You showed me when we tried to steal Deanna’s radio.”

“Oh, yeah…”

She sits up yawning and looks around tiredly before rubbing her eyes. When Enid came to Alexandria she was distance and quiet. She spends her time with Annabelle since she is entertaining to be with and the only one who didn’t look at her with pity. She’s still shy and all but with Annie she is more comfortable. Probably because Annabelle would tell you what she thought and didn’t give a damn who got their feelings hurt.

“The group is here and there is like 15 of them! Everyone is going over to the gates. Eric also hurt his leg.” Enid explains making Annabelle’s eyes go wide.

“What happen to Eric?” She quickly puts on her shoes and walks to the front door Enid left open, “How badly is he hurt?”

“It’s just a sprained ankle, don’t worry- but you have to see the group they look like they are from an episode of lost!” Enid tries not to freak out, “They have a baby too!”

“Okay, okay. I’m going- A baby you say? How is it possible that kid is still alive?”

She follows Enid out of the house to the gates looking like a stray dog since she just woke up. Anna can’t see the group very well but she can infer they are covered in dirt and a lot of it. Enid is right beside her babbling about what happened with Aaron and Eric as they get a closer look. She sees Deanna and Reg talking to the group, but more to a man she couldn’t clearly see. They all looked like hell making her remember when she first got her. She was covered in blood, sweat, and dirt the first time she walked into Alexandria too. She notices Enid going to stand next to Ron when they get close to the people watching the new group. She hated the kid honestly, he still acted like one of those too cool for school teenagers. She wanted to throw him over the wall sometimes in hopes that he comes back without an attitude. Looking around the group she couldn’t see them in detail since they were such a mess and there are so many of them. She could tell Deanna was talking to the leader now probably. All she could really make out of the man is his serious beard. The others in the group are looking around cautiously with their weapons in hands making her take out a knife without thinking. She takes a few more steps before hearing someone from the group call out in a deep shaking familiar tone.


Her heart stops at the sound of the old nickname, she hasn’t heard someone call her that in almost a year. Only one person ever called her that which makes her look around frantically like she seen a ghost. Everyone turns to her as she takes a few more step closer to where the voice came from. The person who called out is shoving people out his way to make his presences known to her. Dropping her knife she sees the person who called her by her old pet name. She falls to her knees as a wave of a thousand emotions hit her. He found her, her best friend, her family, he’s here in front of her look at her in the flesh. He’s holding a damn die possum and an old rusty crossbow. She feels like she’s about to faint at the thought of her Daryl Dixon finally finding his way back to her.

Like it? Yes… No? Tell me? I have the following chapter here but I will continue posting them on this account if people ask. :)

Preparations (Vows #1)

The next Nessian (finally!)  Previous Chapter is here.  Master list of all my fanfic is here.  Hope you all enjoy this one!  Nearly everyone makes an appearance.  It was supposed to be the last chapter but it got waaay too long (this half is over 5k words) so I split it.

Nesta tapped her pen against the paper.  “I don’t see why I have to do this,” she said flatly.

Feyre sighed, already exasperated, and set her teacup down with a click.  “You’re the one who burst in here this afternoon and told me you had to get married as soon as possible.  Making a list of what you need to get done is the bare minimum if you really expect to be ready in two weeks.”

“Okay, fine,” Nesta grumbled.  She contemplated just giving up on the whole thing, shredding the papers she’d been writing on, and telling Cassian they should just run away, but she supposed now her sister knew that option was done for.  “So far we’ve got: location to figure out, catering, dress -”

“Just ask Rhys about the dress,” Feyre cut in, “he probably already has something.”  

“Why would he have a dress for me?”  Nesta asked, a bit suspiciously.  The tendency of everyone in the Inner Circle to be constantly in everybody else’s business had not grown on her with exposure.

“Well, it’s been weeks since you announced you planned to get married,” Feyre said, like that was a normal explanation.  Evidently Nesta should automatically expect her brother-in-law to produce a wedding dress for her, just like that.

Nesta sat back in her chair and looked at her sister through narrowed eyes.  “What is it with Rhys and clothes?  Where does he get them all?”

Feyre just shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I’ve never asked.  His taste is better than mine anyway.”

An image of her sister’s tall, elegant mate sitting in a private room somewhere sewing furiously popped into Nesta’s mind, and she snorted.  Her sister looked at her in some confusion and she just waved her hand in dismissal.  “Should I cross ‘dress’ off then?”

“No, let’s make sure I’m right first.  And that you like it.  He’ll be here any minute anyway for your session.”  Ugh, magic lessons.  She felt awkward enough with Amren, having Rhys staring at her too didn’t really sound appealing, but she did want to start understanding what she could - and should - do with the fact that she now could hear everybody’s life force.  Certainly before she killed someone by mistake.  Feyre went on.  “We don’t need to worry about flowers, Elain will take care of that.  And I bet Mor has some ideas about catering.  Do you want to use the priestess Elain and Lucien had?”

“Is that the same one you used?”


“Might as well be consistent then.”  Nesta wrote down ‘Priestess’ with a small arrow that led to ‘whoever Feyre says.’  She tapped the pen against her teeth.  “What else is there?”

“Do you have a guest list yet?”  Nesta most certainly did; she hid her grin as she slid it over to her sister, who read it out loud.  “‘Feyre, Elain, Rhys, The Bastard,’ really, Nesta, is that necessary? ‘Azriel, Amren, Mor,’ all plus one, ‘Nuala, Cerridwen,’ oh good, I’m glad you’re inviting them, ‘Clotho and the rest of the librarians…’”  She looked up and smiled.  “What a great idea.”  Nesta just shrugged, a little embarrassed.  “Who’s ‘Tamirah’ and why is her name surrounded by little hearts?’”

“Oh, that’s just a special one for Cassian,” Nesta replied with a bit of an evil grin.

“Do I even want to know?”

“Probably not.”  

“And ‘Willow.’  You’re inviting your cat?”

“Of course.  She’s part of the family.”

Shaking her head, Feyre grabbed the to-do list Nesta was now doodling on and scanned the sheet.  “What do you want to do about invitations?”

Nesta made a face.  “Do you really think we need them?  It’s mostly just the family anyway.”

Feyre looked rather shocked.  “Of course you need invitations!  Cerridwen did them for Elain’s wedding, I’m sure she’d be happy to do yours.  And it’s not like we need one for Willow.”  She chuckled.

“Why doesn’t Willow get one if everyone else does?” Nesta asked, deadpan.

“Does she really need one?  She can’t read.”

“Probably not, but it seems rude to exclude her if we do them for everyone else.”  Nesta stole her paper back and noted ‘Cerridwen’ next to ‘Invitations.’  

“Oh, and you’ll need to write your vows.”

Nesta’s stomach dropped.  She had never considered that; never thought about baring her soul in front of all those people, even if it was mostly just family.  “Write my…don’t the High Fae have some sort of set ceremony?  I thought I was just going to have to say, ‘I do’ or something.”

Her sister laughed.  “Didn’t you notice that Elain and Lucien had written their vows?”

“Well, yes, but that’s Elain and Lucien, they have no issue with being all, I don’t know, verbal.  They also had about a thousand people at their ceremony.  I thought I could get out of it.”  She thought for a moment; Elain’s was the only Fae ceremony she had been to.  “Did you write your own vows?”

She didn’t understand the expression that crossed Feyre’s face at what was intended to be an innocent question.  It looked almost like guilt.  “We didn’t have time to write anything, actually.  Since we did it so fast,  we just kind of said what was in our hearts at the moment.  I honestly don’t even remember what we said.”

Nesta pondered that.  While there was something appealing about sneaking out in the middle of the night and spontaneously getting married, or mated, or whatever you wanted to call it, she didn’t want to not be able to remember it.  She didn’t want the handful of people she loved to not be a part of it.  “What would you write if you had to do it over again?”

Feyre’s voice was hesitant, contemplative.  “I think I’d want to tell the story of how I came to love him.  Not so much the mating bond - as deep as it is, I think that’s more biological than anything.  But how he kept me from breaking and taught me and brought me out of the despair I had fallen into.  How he always had so much faith in me, and how he always just knew me.  Knew what I needed, even if it wasn’t what I wanted.  Does that make sense?”  

Nesta nodded thoughtfully.  Grabbing a fresh sheet of paper, she began to write.  Feyre poured herself a fresh cup of mint tea and sipped while she waited.  When she was nearly down to the dregs, her sister passed the paper to her then watched her, expressionless, while she read it.  Feyre looked up.  “This is beautiful,” she said softly.  “It’s perfect.”  Nesta took the paper and tucked it away.  Before they could return to their planning, Rhys and Amren appeared.

“What’s all this?” Amren asked, looking at the scattered papers.

“Oh, we’re just planning Nesta and Cassian’s wedding,” Feyre said breezily.  “We’ve got about two weeks.”

Rhys whistled.  “Looks like magic training is going to wait a bit.  We’ve got more important work to do.”  The three females looked at him expectantly.  He grinned.  “Want to see the dresses I picked out?”

Amren rolled her eyes.  “If you are all going to be gushing over wedding dresses, I’m going to go to Summer Court.  See you in a couple of weeks.”  She winnowed away in the middle of Nesta’s protest.  Rhys just shrugged, looking bemusedly at the spot she had just vacated.

“I was still planning on doing some training, but I guess that gives us a little more flexibility.  Come on, let’s go upstairs.”  The sisters followed him into Nesta’s old room, where he pulled three different dresses from a pocket realm and hung them on the armoire door.  All three were stunning, but Nesta only had eyes for the one on the left.  

“That’s it,” she said, pointing.  He handed it to her and she stalked towards the bathing room, Nuala appearing out of nowhere to assist her.  Feyre looked at her mate.

“That was easy,” she said.  

“She’s easy to select for,” he said.  “She always favors the more simple, elegant styles.”

“You knew she was going to pick that one?”  He nodded and Feyre surveyed the other two.  “Well, they’re all gorgeous, but I think it’s the one I would’ve chosen for her too.”

Mor burst through the door just as Nesta emerged from the bathing room in her regular clothes.  “Hey, bitch, when were you going to tell me you’re planning your wedding?”

Nesta blinked.  “Was I supposed to tell you before I told my sisters?”

“Of course,” Mor said, breezing past her cousin and Feyre to flop on the bed.  “I’m the party planner extraordinaire around here.”

Giving a small mocking bow, Nesta replied, “My apologies, I did not know that was one of your formal titles.  I hereby appoint you queen of the catering.  May you prosper.”

Mor returned the bow as best she could from the bed, with a flourish of her hand.  “I shall not disappoint.”

Feyre broke in before the verbal sparring could come to a head.  “Where’s the dress?  Is something wrong?”


“Wait, I missed the dress?” Mor interjected.

“Then can’t we see it?” Feyre asked almost simultaneously.

“No.”  Nesta could tell Feyre was biting her cheek to keep from snapping at her, and tried hard to not snap her response, though she hated having to defend herself about it.  “Half the people invited are in this room right now.  The dress fits, it’s exactly what I want, and you’ll see it in two weeks.  And don’t you dare use your Daemati powers on me.  Or Nuala.”

Feyre and Mor both turned to Rhys, who had been watching the three females with some amusement.  He shoved his hands in his pockets with his usual grace.  “It’s up to Nesta.  I’m staying out of it.”

“Ugh, what good is being High Lady if I can’t even make my own sister show me how she looks in her wedding dress?” Feyre asked no one in particular.


Cassian was sitting in the family library in the House of Wind, thinking, a blank pad of paper and a pen on the low table in front of him.  There was so much he wanted to say to Nesta when they bound themselves to each other in just one short week, but he could not for the life of him figure out how.  He had cut his training session with Brisa short, sending her to spar with Sabine and Az, while he had flown here to do - exactly nothing.  He growled at the paper, as if he could somehow intimidate it into writing his vows for him.  

The door swung open and Lucien walked in.  He and Elain had returned from the Dawn Court late the night before.  “This is…the exact last place I would expect to find you,” Lucien said by way of greeting.  Cassian couldn’t even find a snappy retort.  Damnit.  He rubbed his face with his hands, then let them drop into his lap.  “Why does it seem like every time I see you, something is always bothering you?”

“Because every time you see me, you’re in the room.  It’s a paradox.”  There, at least he was able to come up with something.

“My my, another big word.  Though I suppose I set myself up for that one.”  He studied the empty paper, russet eye narrowing.  “Let me guess, you’re working on a dissertation on the usefulness of wings.”

Cassian huffed what might have been a laugh.  “I wish, I’d have a thousand pages by now.  No, I’m trying to write my vows.”

The red-haired male slipped into the seat next to him and put his feet up on the table.  “Well, since I just did this a few weeks ago, let me give you some advice.”  

“Okay,” he replied, eyeing the court-trained male warily.

“I’d advise against going with, ‘You’re my mate.  Let’s fuck.’  It kind of takes away from the grandeur of the moment.”

Now Cassian laughed for real.  “I wouldn’t want to steal your line anyway.   I was practically unconscious at the time, but wasn’t that basically what you said when Elain came out of the Cauldron?”

A smirk played on Lucien’s lips.  “I told you I was speaking from experience.”  He crossed his arms and looked straight into Cassian’s steady hazel eyes.  “Why do you want to marry her?  What first drew you to her, though I doubt you got a lot of encouragement?  You’ve been alive and from what I’ve gathered, fucking freely for over five hundred years.  Why decide now to bind yourself to her?”

The slight disdain in his tone coupled with the emphasis on the last word had anger flaring, and Cassian leaned forward, every inch the warrior.  He opened his mouth, and Lucien pointed at the paper.  “Don’t tell me, write.”  His mouth tightened, but he took up his pen and began to work.  There was a lot of crossing out and long pauses, but eventually he stopped, surveyed his work, then passed the paper to Lucien, who had been watching the process with no little amusement.

“I hope that wasn’t as painful as it looked,” he said, before reading the lines.  “Mother’s tits, your handwriting is atrocious.”  His expression changed from its usual irreverence as his eyes scanned the page, and he handed it back wordlessly.  Cassian looked at him with a question on his face, and Lucien merely nodded.  Standing, he walked towards the stacks, dropping a hand briefly on Cassian’s shoulder as he passed.


Elain walked into the kitchen garden, bearing a tray full of iced tea that she set out for everyone before settling into a chair herself.  It was an unusually warm day for this late in the fall and everyone was soaking up the last of the sun’s rays.  She looked even more beautiful than ever, Nesta thought; more grounded, which seemed ironic given how much time Elain always spent with the earth.  Unlike herself, Elain had always imagined and wished to be married with children and a nice manor house and everything.  Though her current situation was not how she planned it when they were younger, being bonded forever to a male as magnetic as the fox-faced bastard didn’t seem to be disagreeing with her at all.  Even if he was just about the polar opposite of Graysen.  Nesta wasn’t sure which of the two males she despised more, Graysen for abandoning her sister or Lucien for winning her in the end.  

“So, I know you were talking about having the ceremony at the House of Wind,” Elain said, “but I’d like to make another suggestion.”  Nesta, Feyre and Mor all looked at her expectantly.  “There’s that walled garden I finished a few months ago, it’s totally enclosed so it would be nice and private, and there should be room for everyone since it’s such a small group.”

“That sounds like a great idea!” Mor exclaimed.  

Feyre looked a little more hesitant.  “Isn’t it a little late in the season for a garden to be practical?”  Nesta was internally grateful to her for asking the question; after all, it was close to winter.

Elain leaned forward eagerly.  “No, not at all!  I designed it to be usable in all seasons, and it’s spelled to protect it from any extreme cold.  Right now it’s got beautiful foliage, and some nice rich flowers in reds and purples and yellows and there are some patches of white.  They should go nicely with Cassian’s Siphons.  Plus I can add some potted or cut flowers of whatever colors you want.”

Nesta smiled at her sister, at her palpable joy and excitement, as she said, “That sounds perfect, and I’ll trust your judgment as to what flowers are appropriate.”  She thought Elain was going to take flight right there and disappear to prep the garden.  It was obviously an effort her her sister to keep in her seat, but she managed to refocus on the rest of the task at hand.  

The three of them went through the extensive menu Mor proposed, then Elain asked to see the guest list.  She studied it for a moment, then asked, “Why is there a burned out hole at the bottom of the list?”

Playing with a piece of her hair, Nesta replied airily, “Oh, Cassian took exception to one of my invitees.”

“But he’s okay with the cat coming?” Feyre asked drily.

Nesta leveled one of her flat looks at her.  “Of course.”  She didn’t understand her sister’s evident irritation at Willow’s inclusion; she’d always seemed to enjoy her playful antics when they spent time together.

Elain piped up, “I’ll manage Willow!  Oh, I’d love to have her there.” Feyre subsided with a shrug and a wry smile, won over by her sweetness, just as everyone always was.

A shadow appeared overhead, and everyone looked up as Cassian touched down.  “Everything going well?” he asked, bending down to brush a kiss to the top of Nesta’s head.  

The four women nodded in unison, then Nesta added, “Other than Feyre being beaten into submission about Willow being issued an invitation.”  He laughed.  

“Can I be updated on the plans?” he requested as he sat on the edge of the table, all chairs being occupied.  Elain and Mor immediately began running through all the details while Nesta sat back, a little bemused.  Elain had been home for less than twenty four hours and was already more involved with the plans than she was.  She met Cassian’s eyes and her mate gave a tiny shrug.  They were lucky to be able to basically wind up the other females and let them go, though she did appreciate having final say.  Not that she had had to overrule much of anything.

“We haven’t discussed one very important thing,” Mor said.  “Alcohol.”  Feyre nodded fervently.  “I’ve already got wine planned, both sparkling and regular.  What else do you want?”

Lucien winnowed in, as if summoned by the mention of liquor, and after kissing Elain and settling her in his lap he joined in.  Only Rhys was absent, having left after their lesson to discuss some sort of assignment for the spymaster.  She found herself missing him a little for some reason.  He had been surprising her with his patience and understanding during their lessons.  Together they had realized her power worked almost directly opposite his - when he wanted to kill, he pushed out with his power, while it seemed she needed to pull in.  They speculated that was why she was unsuccessful against the King, as lashing out could affect a body but not terminally.  Rhys could also affect a huge number at once, while she could sense many but only affect one at a time.  The best thing from a day to day standpoint was she was discovering that she did possess a few of the extra abilities, like accessing pocket realms.  He was also pretty sure she’d be able to winnow given how easily she could manipulate living energy, but she hadn’t managed yet.

Cassian began listing an impressive additional supply of spirits and Nesta refocused onto the conversation.  Feyre chimed in with some of Rhys’s favorites.  Nesta was fine with just the wine.  She didn’t want to forget any of the ceremony, and after her experience with the Gravediggers she doubted her ability to handle anything stronger.  Watching the others laugh and discuss the merits of various liquors warmed her; she loved her mate’s enthusiasm for all of this.  In the human world, the men generally acted as if all this was the women’s territory and beneath them.  Here, the males seemed to see the planning as not just a responsibility but a valued right.  The two present males started an enthusiastic discussion of the merits of licorice in some sort of drink she’d never heard of before, and she sat back contentedly and let the noise and joy flow over her like water.


The night before the wedding, Feyre had insisted that Nesta stay with her and Elain at the townhouse, just as they had for Elain’s wedding, so Cassian went back to the apartment alone.  Willow greeted him with her usual demands for food and petting, then settled herself on the bookcase for a thorough wash and a nap.  He hoped she would enjoy herself at the ceremony; she certainly had never seemed fazed by traveling to the cabin or the townhouse, so he suspected she would take it in stride.  He ate and had just settled down on the couch with a glass of wine to read when he heard footsteps on the roof and headed up to check it out.

Azriel and Rhys were making themselves comfortable on the chairs Nesta had insisted be added to the chaise in the rooftop garden.  They had brought a bottle of something stronger than the wine, no doubt secreted out from under Rhys’s bed.  Cassian took the glass Rhys was holding out and claimed the chaise.  Rhys held up his glass in a silent toast, and the other two echoed the gesture before they drank in unison.  “Feyre kicked me out for the night,” he said ruefully.  “So Az and I decided to come down and keep you company on your last night alone.  Ready for tomorrow?”

“Sure,” he said, with unfeigned nonchalance.  “I mean, we’ve been living together for a few months now.  This is just a ceremony to make it all official, right?  I don’t really expect anything to change other than getting used to wearing a ring.”  He actually couldn’t wait for that part; he loved the rings Rhys had helped him select.

The High Lord looked contemplative.  “I don’t know, my situation was so different.  I mean, we’d only really been together a few days before we had the ceremony, and it was all so rushed…But I definitely felt like having it official made it seem so much more permanent.”  He thought for a moment before continuing, “Somehow, when that priestess declared us married and mated, it was like the bond connected in our bones, not just our hearts.  Does that make sense?”

It was hard for Cassian to imagine the bond being any deeper or more enduring, but he nodded and took a sip of his drink.  He was really going to have to figure out his brother’s source of alcohol at some point, because damn, that shit was good.  There was a patter of tiny feet and Willow appeared on the roof, pausing to look around and sniff for a moment, tail twitching.  Her domain adequately surveyed, she scampered to Azriel and leaped onto his lap, arching her body up to bump him in the face with her little head.  He looked to Cassian with a long-suffering expression, but his hand stroked her automatically and her wild purr reverberated through the garden.

“Why must your cat torture me?” he asked in that cold voice, while scritching under her chin with his scarred fingers.  

“She likes you,” Cassian replied, “is that a bad thing?”  Willow stuffed her tail up Azriel’s nose while vigorously kneading his knee with her tiny needle claws and he glared at his brother, who was struggling not to laugh.  “Are you bringing anyone tomorrow?”

“I’m thinking Willow should be my date at this point,” he replied.  The cat responded by sprawling out on her back along his thigh, fluffy gray belly exposed, feet curling in the air.  

The others both laughed but Cassian sobered quickly.  He studied his brother.  “Mor’s bringing someone,” he said abruptly.  Rhys’s head snapped up, a warning in his eyes.  

Az’s fingers didn’t pause in their massage of the blissful cat’s neck.  “I know.”  There was not a trace of emotion in his voice or on his face.  

Cassian opened his mouth, but Rhys interrupted.  “Leave it alone.”

Az looked between his two brothers for a long moment.  “I always hoped you two would understand,” he said, the slightest hint of disappointment in his voice, his shadows curling around his shoulders.  “I know Feyre doesn’t, but she’s young, and has a human heart.”

“Understand what?” Cassian asked, quite gently for him.

“I am…content, with how things are,” he replied quietly.  “I have no need to share my life with anyone beyond the family.”  

“But -” Cassian started to protest and Az spoke over him, perhaps for the first time in history.

“I do not need what you need, brother.  I am happy for you, for all of you,” he looked to Rhys, “but I have no desire for that type of bond myself.  I thought you could understand that.”

The other two exchanged looks.  “But what about Mor?” Cassian finally asked.

“Any feelings I had for Mor beyond the familial faded a long time ago.  It’s just that none of you noticed.”  There was a cold anger rising in his face, despite the dry humor in his voice.  “You have been assuming for all these years that I sought what you did.  But I have all I need with the two of you.  Brothers who truly care for me.”  Cassian thought of Az’s biological brothers and his eyes flicked to the scarred hands beneath the blue Siphons.  Rhys’s attention was similarly focused.  “And you,” he turned to Rhys, who pulled his violet eyes up to meet his gaze, “brought me the added benefit of Feyre, who despite the fact that she wants for me what I do not desire for myself, also truly cares.”

Cassian was struggling to understand this.  He thought back to how his life had been before Feyre had fallen into it and brought her sisters with her; back to before Rhys had disappeared Under the Mountain.  He had been comfortable, yes, but always restless; he would never have described himself as content.  Even when he was sated following a good fight or a good fuck or preferably both, as soon as the fatigue wore off the buzzing energy had returned.  But he had never seen that with Az, who would take a lover, yes, but without that driving need.  Who while he fought and practiced with an eye to perfection, it was only to hone a necessary skill.   He had always assumed the shadowsinger just hid it better, that the cold rage that lurked beneath the impassive surface was a result of the same emptiness he felt.

Perhaps it was instead a result of the fact that even those who loved him best didn’t really see him.

“Do not dare to condescend to me with your pity,” Azriel snapped, and Cassian bristled until he realized he was not the one being addressed.  He looked to Rhys, to the muscle feathering in his clenched jaw.  “I am not diminished because I am not bound to another.”  Willow startled at the shift in mood, leaping down and skittering across to settle underneath the chaise.  Rhys bowed his head under the fierce glare.

“No, you are not,” he said quietly, almost humbly.  “You most certainly are not.  I just…I can’t believe I was wrong all this time.  And the way you look at Mor, the sadness…I still don’t understand it.”

His voice softer, warmer, Az responded, “I am sad for Mor because I pity anyone who cannot acknowledge even to themselves who they truly are.  Not because of any unfulfilled wishes of my own.”  Cassian could have laughed at Rhys’s expression of utter bafflement, and even Azriel smiled a little.  “Did you think I haven’t noticed Mor bedding females all these years?”

Now it was true shock on Rhys’s elegant face, and Cassian did laugh out loud at his dropped jaw.  “What?”

“You may have noticed,” Cassian said wryly to Az, “but clearly our brother here has been out of the loop.”  He turned to Rhys.  “Did you never wonder why Mor is always hanging out at Rita’s?”

“What about Rita’s?”

The two Illyrians exchanged very amused looks before Cassian decided to take mercy on Rhys.  “Rita’s is basically a hot spot for those who are looking for same-sex options.  Did you not ever wonder why you constantly had males inviting you to bed there?”

Rhys shook his head, a trace of his usual arrogance reappearing as he replied, “No, I get invitations from everyone no matter where I am.  I never really thought about it.  Though considering you also did whenever we were there, I suppose I should have.”

Cassian winked at him.  “I too get invitations from everyone everywhere, brother.”

Az snorted.  “You accept them though, Cass.  Rhys doesn’t.”  Rhys turned to him, looking startled again.  Cassian just shrugged.  

“You better get over yourself,” he said to Rhys, “because Mor is bringing Ahna tomorrow.”

“Ahna?  As in, Vivianne’s sister?”  He nodded, and Rhys turned speculative.  “I wonder what Feyre is going to say to that.”

Clearing his throat, Cassian said, “Um, as far as I know, it was Feyre’s idea.  And Nesta had Cerridwen write the invitation to her directly.”  Laughing again at Rhys’s dismay at learning he really was the last to know, he rose and poured them all another knuckle’s length.  He stood behind Az’s chair, dropping a broad hand on his shoulder, and looked at these males that he had loved almost all his life.  They had fought for each other and pushed each other and each had become a better version of themselves thanks to the other two.  He knew that without Rhys and Az, and Rhys’s mother, he would never have amounted to someone worthy of the female he was to marry tomorrow.  No matter how big the void Nesta filled in his soul, it would never diminish what he felt for his brothers.

Clearing his throat, he raised his glass.  “I know we haven’t done this much since the war, or really for a lot longer than that, but I want you to know that I love you both, no matter what.  To truth among brothers,” he said.  The others raised their glasses, murmuring, “To truth,” in reply.  As Cassian tilted his head back to drain his glass, a shooting star passed overhead, echoing the fiery trail of the liquor down his throat.  All three of them froze, staring at the sky, as awed by the flash of beauty above them as they had been centuries ago when they first stood together beneath the stars.


The unspoken law of Konoha. Never make the Precious Sunflower cry.

Poor Himawari got bullied. She want’s to go home but everyone just has vengeance on the mind.

Mitsuki decided to treat Hima to a treat. Though big brother doesn’t know how he feels about that.

I may have made Himawari a bit to short but heights aren’t always a consistent thing in anime so I’m not going to lose sleep over it.

Also I see several people talk about how they ship ShikaHima, InoHima, MetaHima but not so often MitsukiHima, which is what I ship. I also really don’t see fan art of them while I have seen several of the other ships. Oh well it’s crack so it really wouldn’t have that many fans dedicating time to it. 

10 quotes from Warren Buffett’s letter to investors about the great Wall Street rip off

Warren Buffett just roasted Wall Street.

Warren Buffett just used more than 3,200 words to basically destroy Wall Street and one of its main sources of income — taking fees from the cash you invest with them.

If you’re not sure what‘s going on here, there’s a quick story you need to know about. In 2005, Buffett made a $500,000 bet. He essentially said an S&P 500 index fund would outperform any basket of hedge funds. The hedge funds might have the look or a ridiculously over the top name like Swift Eagle Crane Capital or Stat Sig Alpha Management, but still a basic low-fee S&P 500 index fund would outperform them over a long period.

Buffett won. And in his recent letter to investors he explains in detail what happened and what he thinks everyone can learn from his $500,000 wager. Here are 10 hand-picked quotes from his letter and at the bottom you can find a link to the entire letter.

1. Here’s Buffett explaining exactly what happened:

“I publicly offered to wager $500,000 that no investment pro could select a set of at least five hedge funds — wildly-popular and high-fee investing vehicles — that would over an extended period match the performance of an unmanaged S&P-500 index fund charging only token fees. I suggested a ten-year bet and named a low-cost Vanguard S&P fund as my contender. I then sat back and waited expectantly for a parade of fund managers — who could include their own fund as one of the five — to come forth and defend their occupation. After all, these managers urged others to bet billions on their abilities.”

2. Here’s Buffett explaining how he straight up eviscerated hedge funds with his simple bet. Mic dropped. Game over:

“In it, the five funds-of-funds delivered, through 2016, an average of only 2.2%, compounded annually. That means $1 million invested in those funds would have gained $220,000. The index fund would meanwhile have gained $854,000.”

3. In which Buffett drops an amazing parody based on a classic Wall Street movie:

“I’m certain that in almost all cases the managers at both levels were honest and intelligent people. But the results for their investors were dismal — really dismal. And, alas, the huge fixed fees charged by all of the funds and funds-of-funds involved — fees that were totally unwarranted by performance — were such that their managers were showered with compensation over the nine years that have passed. As Gordon Gekko might have put it: “Fees never sleep.”

4. You might have a Vanguard fund. Do you know who the founder of Vanguard is? Buffett says he’s one of the most underrated men in all of finance:

“If a statue is ever erected to honor the person who has done the most for American investors, the handsdown choice should be Jack Bogle. For decades, Jack has urged investors to invest in ultra-low-cost index funds. In his crusade, he amassed only a tiny percentage of the wealth that has typically flowed to managers who have promised their investors large rewards while delivering them nothing — or, as in our bet, less than nothing — of added value.”

5. Buffett explains how Bogle fought against countless enemies, critiques, and haters. A lesson even for anyone trying to start their own firm or business today:

“In his early years, Jack was frequently mocked by the investment-management industry. Today, however, he has the satisfaction of knowing that he helped millions of investors realize far better returns on their savings than they otherwise would have earned. He is a hero to them and to me.”

6. Plot twist. You ready? Buffett thinks no other class has been scammed by Wall Street harder than the elite. And not because of their incompetence, but because of their desire to feel elite:

“In many aspects of life, indeed, wealth does command top-grade products or services. For that reason, the financial “elites” — wealthy individuals, pension funds, college endowments and the like — have great trouble meekly signing up for a financial product or service that is available as well to people investing only a few thousand dollars. This reluctance of the rich normally prevails even though the product at issue is — on an expectancy basis — clearly the best choice.

7. How much money have hedge funds earned in fees regardless of performance? Here’s Buffett’s calculation:

“My calculation, admittedly very rough, is that the search by the elite for superior investment advice has caused it, in aggregate, to waste more than $100 billion over the past decade.”

8. One of Buffett’s greatest skills is his ability to observe human behavior and watch it repeat over time — in panics and in booms. He writes:

“Human behavior won’t change. Wealthy individuals, pension funds, endowments and the like will continue to feel they deserve something “extra” in investment advice. Those advisors who cleverly play to this expectation will get very rich. This year the magic potion may be hedge funds, next year something else.”

9. When Buffett drops an adage, you have to pay attention:

“The likely result from this parade of promises is predicted in an adage: “When a person with money meets a person with experience, the one with experience ends up with the money and the one with money leaves with experience.””

10. Yes, Buffett has a brother-in-law named Homer. And of course Homer has a great little lesson for everyone:

“Long ago, a brother-in-law of mine, Homer Rogers, was a commission agent working in the Omaha stockyards. I asked him how he induced a farmer or rancher to hire him to handle the sale of their hogs or cattle to the buyers from the big four packers (Swift, Cudahy, Wilson and Armour). After all, hogs were hogs and the buyers were experts who knew to the penny how much any animal was worth. How then, I asked Homer, could any sales agent get a better result than any other? Homer gave me a pitying look and said: “Warren, it’s not how you sell ’em, it’s how you tell ‘em.” What worked in the stockyards continues to work in Wall Street.”

Now if you want to read Buffett’s entire letter to investors, and even see his annual report for 2016, go to this PDF right here. If you enjoyed this compilation of Buffett quotes, or learned something new about fees on Wall Street, please like or share this post!

Kind of a Neverender Story

On May 2nd I attended my 10th Coheed and Cambria show and every day that followed for a month or so since then was a storm of emotions and fuzzy feelings. Every time I try to write this down I get annoyed at my own self and trash it so please bear with me.

5 years ago, February 2012, I got an email about Coheed going on tour like the dozens of emails that came before it since I discovered them only this time, almost 10 years into being a fan I finally decided it was time to go.

“I need to do this, babe, just once. I need to get it out of my system, I’ll never ask again. Just once.”

That’s what I said to my husband before buying our tickets. I’ve been living this lie for over five years now, and there’s no signs of stopping because every moment since then has been like living in a surrealistic bubble of “how did I get from there to here?” Plus I’ve won him completely over to the Coheed side, he doesn’t even try to fight it anymore.

We went and I got my first taste of what it was truly like to be a Child of the Fence. There were people in line with guitars singing Coheed songs, no one was rude, it was like everyone knew everyone else and in a way they did because I learned that every Coheed fan has a home in other Coheed fans. I ran in terror every time a band member was coming or going from the bus, amazed that they were so approachable as other fans said hi or got autographs. My brother in law had a good laugh at my expense when he said, “isn’t the lead singer the one with the big hair? He’s right there,” while I stood frozen in place and I’m sure all the color drained from my face. I literally could not force myself to move.

The show was absolutely everything I’d dreamed about and so much more. I found myself square in the danger zone of the pit, the crowd was insanely rough, but my eyes did not waiver from that stage. I planted my feet and turned all my focus into not getting sucked backward so I wouldn’t miss a single thing. Every memory of coming to love this band, every part of my past life and the people I shared it with, every painful experience in my life that their music carried me through flooded my mind and hit me in my soul. Watching these guys perform with such zest and energy, as if it would be their last show ever breathed life into me, and when Claudio sang Mother Superior, my favorite song at the time, I wept openly and unabashedly while my husband held me tight. (Ok he was actually holding me up because I was not prepared for how physically exhausted I would be)

After the show tons of people were gathered on the corner by the tour bus and I talked my husband into letting us stay despite the 3 hour drive home ahead of us. I met so many COTF that I still know and attend shows with today, people I consider “staples” because I always expect to see them in my corner of the southern US and they’re always there. The crowd thinned and suddenly Josh pops out of the building and yells, “WHERE IS DOUGIEFRIZZLE?” o.O This Dougie character skips up, vinyl sleeve in hand (an OG IKS pressing), gets it signed by Josh, gives him a huge hug, explains that he’s been waiting forever for Josh to rejoin the band because he was missing only his signature. As it turned out, Doug had tweeted to him that he needed him to sign and Josh being the amazing human he is came out to make it happen. Josh hung out for a bit, talking to everyone, signing things and posing for pictures, even gave one guy a beer from the bus because he said that’s all he wanted. I was still terrified and I’m pretty sure I didn’t speak. Some time around 2 am, what was once a crowd of us had thinned to about 25 of us; venue security had gone home no doubt believing that we are all insane, and my brother in law had long since retreated to the car to sleep. Coheed’s tour manager, Pete, came off the bus and in a very no-nonsense manner gave us the news we’d been waiting for, that the band was going to come out for a meet and greet. At 2 am. In downtown Birmingham. WHAT!! “Have your cameras out, I will take your pictures, if you want something signed have it ready. Any shenanigans and we’re getting back on the bus.” I didn’t have any words for them, except that Zach didn’t come out so I requested that. He came and said “I didn’t think anyone would want me to,” so humble and sweet that man is. I left after getting my pictures and my ticket signed (by all but Josh) and when we passed back by I yelled “I love you Claudio” out the car window and I still cringe when I think of that, hahaha!

I didn’t sleep that night, how do you just go to sleep when you can feel your life slowly pulling into focus? I love my husband and my children, but I’m a stay at home mom and it can really be the pits sometimes despite the fact that I know I’m extremely lucky to be able to be home with them. At this particular time in my life things were out of whack for me, not as badly as they would come to be, but enough that my own worth already felt unimportant and lost in the repetitiveness of my boring existence.

I revitalized a twitter account I had created a few years before and never tweeted from and went on a follow frenzy. I filled the void left by being stuck at home all the time with Coheed fans. I finally had a place to let me be myself, not wife or mommy, just Cyndi. Not only that, but I found hundreds of people just like me: totally invested in Coheed and Cambria, excited about it all the time, where the conversation never ended. People from all over the world, different ages, and from every walk of life you could imagine. What I found was my second home. Thus Cyndifferous was born and I’m onto the meat of my story.

In the Coheed community, 10 shows is a drop in the bucket for a lot more fans than you would think, so while I’m personally celebrating that accomplishment, what I came here to talk about isn’t that at all. I want to talk about the fans, my friends, my people.

I threw myself into the community, dubbing twitter my own personal Heedfeed. I’m always excited about Coheed and when other people are excited too it bleeds back into me and doubles it. I’m pretty sure that I have organs and a nervous system that keep me living, but I’m also pretty sure that without Coheed & the COTF it would all cease to function. I’m a people person and the COTF community welcomed me with open arms. I started using keyword searches to find new friends, and also to share excellent content that may have otherwise been missed. What’s great about our community is that even when the band is taking time off, or there’s a lull while waiting for movement, there’s still ample things to talk about and no shortage of people to talk to.

Over the last 5 years in all my personal ups and downs, no matter the distance, I always had my cotf friends for support. When I’m bored, they’re there. When I’m sad, they’re there. When I’m ecstatic or miserable or anywhere in between. We even get excited about each other’s upcoming shows, merch scores, and personal victories. There is no room for jealousy in Heaven’s Fence. No room for egos and competition, because we’re all so busy looking out for one another and having each other’s backs. As true and steady as the keywork that holds Heaven’s Fence in place. I’ve never not felt like the COTF community is my place in the world, my little niche, a safe space for everyone who shares the love for this band that gave us so much just by existing.

I mentioned earlier that I’ve been in a whirlwind of emotions since the show and it’s time to clarify. Since the moment I came on board this community I have never felt unwelcome, not even when I would rack up 1,000 tweets in a day or live tweet lyrics to two or three albums in a night. Not even when I parted ways with one project after another, some with an uproar, others a silent exit. Not even when I was constantly asking questions because, let’s face it, there’s a lot to know about Coheed, it’s counterparts, and it’s members. People like Neesh who have been around the community seemingly since the beginning of time and who are still enthusiastic and completely on board with welcoming a new person and bestowing upon them what feels like all of their knowledge, but is probably just beginning to scratch the surface. I remember laaaaaaate nights in the RadioXenu chat room with Neesh learning little nuggets of band history, staying up literally all night the night she showed me The Mours and some SUPER old demos from Shabutie & Weerd Science. (Neesh’s YouTube channel is a gold mine just by the way) After all this time she is still active and vocal in the community, and still just so damn nice to EVERYONE, that’s impressive especially considering how many people I’ve seen wax and wane or come and go. My point is, Neesh inspired me to always be that person, to always be open and welcoming and a home for COTF, most especially the new ones just hopping on board our particular brand of crazy train, trying to find their place in our vast community. The least I can do after all of the unexpected kindness that has been shown to me over the years is continue to pass that on…forever.

Seeing Good Apollo I’m Burning Star IV, Volume 1: From Fear Through the Eyes of Madness live in all of its glory was an experience I could relive every moment for the rest of my life and die happy. In fact, I hope when I’m about to embark on my next life and my life memories replay that this night is featured. Literally everything about the day was perfect, the weather, the friends, the food. And as the night began it took a huge leap into epic, beginning with witnessing one of the most beautiful moments I’ve ever witnessed at a show. (I’m looking at you, Yui. And also at you Ern, you amazing human, you.) I’m sparing details because I came here to talk about what happened post-show, I think I’ve told enough show stories for now, ha!

For me, approximately 60% of a Coheed show is meeting people. Internet friends, old friends, new friends, there’s no such thing as strangers. This particular show was a “homecoming” of sorts for me because Atlanta is usually where I see my Coheed shows and the previous two tours I skipped Atlanta in search of new places and faces. I got to see people I have missed so dearly since IKS Neverender, including Tim, the very first COTF to ever show me the kind nature of our community at my first show, and also the first I’d heard of people who travel around the country just to see these guys perform their miracle of musicianship. There are not many things in life that parallel the joy of recognizing someone and saying “I KNOW YOUR FACE,” even when you’ve only ever seen it in a tiny profile box online.

And so begins a series of happenings that have filled my heart to the bursting point.

My bestest friends & I, Jim and James AKA The Awkward Team, met up for this because we are separated by so much distance (Mississippi, Iowa, Florida) that we try our hardest to come together for shows at least. We arrived in Atlanta the day before the show and it wasn’t long before our friend Ian reached out to see what we were up to that night. Turns out he was just handed a shitty life card and needed some company! We all met up at Buckhead Pizza Co, my very first day-before-the-show hang, usually I’m a lump in my hotel room the day before haha! We had so much fun hanging out in that pizza place, and being there for Ian to take the burn out of a real bummer of a situation was awesome. Even Nina Uber’d over to hang out with us! Our pizza hangs turned into parking garage hangs and we all laughed so much our faces hurt. In short, thank you for messaging me Ian, you made our night probably 10x more fun and it was great to finally get the time to hang out with you!

The show was….I can’t even find the adjective to accurately convey that particular evening. The energy was high in the crowd as it always is in Atlanta, but this one was unlike any other. We had full-venue waves going on, it took us a few tries to get the whole floor and balcony involved but when it finally came together it was unforgettably amazing. I thought I would regret choosing to be in the all-seated balcony for this show, but as it turned out the entire balcony was on their feet for the whole show. Give Coheed fans at least one square foot of space to move and dance in and we will do it. And we did. I’ve been to a couple of shows with a very laid back crowd, this was the exact opposite and that energy conveyed to the band on stage as they powered through one of the most difficult albums in their discography. They moved and grooved right along with us, with the biggest smiles I think I’ve ever seen them play a show with. And when Final Cut came up, Claudio disappeared from the stage and reappeared ten feet to my left in the balcony shredding a solo and letting a fan play his guitar. Those moments, when the band is floating on the energy of the crowd, when every note they play slams more energy around, when you can tell they’re happy to be where they are and loving what they do are next-level. If we could bottle up the energy from a show like that we could live forever on it. I may never experience another show quite like that one, but if not I won’t be at a loss because it was immortalized on Coheed TV and I revisit it often. https://youtu.be/aLkoNo5f-r4

After the show I always hang around outside, its prime time to talk about the show, meet up with people you missed beforehand, and sometimes even catch an impromptu meet and greet. I was sitting down in the parking lot because even though I had a balcony seat I was on my feet dancing, jumping and moving around during the entire set. It wasn’t long after the show that a gentleman approached me and introduced himself as someone from twitter and thanked me for….being me? I’m trying to stay clear of personal vanity, but he thanked me for being kind and and friendly online, told me I was the first COTF he followed, and it was truly awesome to meet him. He flew all the way from Kansas to come to the Atlanta show! I live and breathe for moments like that, when internet and real life collides unexpectedly and someone expresses their gratitude for me. I can dish out compliments all day long, but taking them is hard for me because I’m just a potato of a person who loves Coheed. What I do is not a special skill or talent, I just love to talk and I happen to have a ton of free time to do that with. So thank you, carnacolypse! I catch a fair amount of grief sometimes from my family for the amount of time I spend online, and those moments where someone tosses me appreciation for that, even though I’m just doing what I do, makes the sting of that grief go away. I’m just a girl in Mississippi, I’ve said it all along and I’ll continue to say it forever. I am not special in any way, but my friends sure do make me feel that way.

Not overshadowing all of the other COTF I got to meet for the first time that day, including Alison who came all the way from Canada and started her epic multi-date heedtrip at the Atlanta show!

Coming home after a heedtrip is hard. Post-Coheed depression is a very real thing for a lot of fans.

I love my kids, and I miss them like crazy when I’m away, but I see them every day of the year, my cotf friends get 2, 3 or 4 if I’m SUPER lucky and coheed busts out a secondary market tour. Sometimes it’s not so bad, but this time I was missing my awkward team and sad that the Neverender I felt like I’d waited a lifetime was now officially behind me. A tough pill to swallow. I stayed horizontal pretty much all of Thursday. As always though I fell back into the swing my boring existence, empowered by the task of staying positive and continuing to share and discuss the events of Coheed’s continuing tour. A new Tales From The Grail Arbor video drops every so often and this sounds silly, but it hypes me right back up again. Dirty Ern has a way with photos and videos, capturing moments that flood you with memories of your own adventures while enjoying clips of someone else’s. I’ve teared up with joy during almost all of the 16 episodes that have come out so far.

PLUG- if you haven’t subscribed to Coheed’s YouTube do that right now, CoheedTV is everything you love about Coheed DVDs but free and is also a comprehensive behind-the-scenes look into what tour life is like. There are still more episodes on the way.

The reality is though, that the joy of being a COTF never really stops coming, even when the post-show sadness tries to sink into my soul. This community is everlasting. The connection is always there, no matter the distance. There’s always something happening, someone talking, lives being lived under the precious veil of COTF life. (It’s not just a band after all, it’s a lifestyle) So while the post-Coheed funk comes hard and fast and devastating, it lifts quickly enough and you propel forward into the next big thing. For me, watching the next wave of excitement when the U.K. leg of the tour started was pretty epic. Following their heedtrips as they come together from so many different countries is amazing. But currently, that’s excitement that Coheed is returning to the Amory Wars storyline with their next album (YAY!), the knowledge that Josh is hard at work on a couple of different and very exciting musical endeavors (one of which I was lucky enough to hear a sample of and you people should be over the moon excited for it), and of course the upcoming Chonny and Clyde project. Not to mention, we’re still not quite halfway through the release of the long awaited Good Apollo comics, and each issue brings with it another wave of fun because this series is incredible and extremely well done. Truth be told there’s always something around the next corner with this band and their members, and that’s a big reason why I love being a fan of these people and their art.

It’s now been almost 3 months since Neverender in Atlanta. The tour has long since finished, SDCC has come and gone, and once more the quiet waiting has settled in. The lull. But today is my birthday, and I can’t even put into words how incredible it is to wake up to a flood of birthday greetings from literally all over the world. Close friends and acquaintances the same took time out of their days and lives to wish me well on my birthday and the gratitude and love I feel every single year takes my breath away. It doesn’t get old, it never fails to put the biggest smile on my face. In reality my birthday is just another day, but the hundreds of people that I’ve met, or will soon meet, or may never meet make this day special. It serves as a reminder that I have found my home in another place. I am a person with more to offer than the hundred jobs that fall under the stay-at-home-mom blanket title. It carries its own joy, but knowing that I still exist as a person apart from that is a gift because I have lost that before.

There isn’t another community in the entire universe I would rather be a part of than this one. I hold great pride in all of you, my friends who keep me going, who share my life with me and allow me to share in yours. Thank you with my whole heart, and thank you Coheed for doing what you do and caring about your fans and putting so much of your time and effort into making sure each move you make is bigger and better than the last. You boys are a rare gift, and your fans know that fully well with everything you do.

**Disclaimer: I wrote this a little at a time so my apologies for any errant or incoherent parts, or anything I may have left out. “Words don’t come with ease.”

MTMTE sparkling!reader Part One
The lost light having to watch a sparkling
-The one of the ‘fun’ uncles. He’s the one who accidentally get the sparkling in danger.
-loses them in the first half hour. Then having to look for them only to find out that they never left the room in the first place.
-Has a baby carrier and begins putting the sparkling in it.
-Getting excited when you do something like speak for the first time.
Ultra Magnus:
-The Lawful Dad
-Is strict with everything about you. Has schedule for you and he believes everyone that takes care of you should follow it.
-Is there for you 24-7 because the law never sleeps.
-Is proud of you even if you break a rule. Almost cries if you correct someone whom is breaking a rule. “That’s my baby you tell those criminals.”
-Grumpy Grampa.
-Actually follows the schedule that Magnus made.
-Can care for you until you start crying he gives you to Drift.
-Always having to take things away from you because you want to chew on them.
-Spritual Brother
-Meditates with you asleep in his lap.
-Tries to get you to do little yoga that doesn’t take much flexabilty. He doesn’t what you hurt.
-Tries to teach you how to read auras.
-The Sweet Gramma that everyone loves.
-Gives you lots of treats.
-Always makes sure you’re healthy.
-Places thing you made with Ten on his desk without shame.
-The Joke Uncle the one that make dad jokes even though he isn’t a dad.
-Tells you stories constantly even if you can understand.
-Loves it when you laugh at one of his jokes.
-Always wants to make you happy
-Protective Kind Big Brother
-Makes crafts and drawings with you when allowed.
-If someone makes you cry his coming after them.
-Treats you like a monarch
Cyclonus and Tailgate:
-The Aunt No One Talks About and The cheerful Aunt that no one can hate.
-Cyclonus accidentally gives you his taste in music.
-He lets you touch his horns and cheeks when no one is around.
-Everyone(But Tailgate) is kinda scared to leave you with him but he is actually very kind to you.
-Tailgate give you anything you want.
-He always wants to hold you.
-He can’t handle when you cry and gets sad and cries to. Cyclonus has to get you two to stop.

I’m really tired of people thinking that all of Jewish law is based directly on the Torah, and that Jews still believe in and practice every single law and custom written in the Torah.
With the parasha Ki Tetze having been last shabbat, I feel like it’s an especially good time to remind everyone that Judaism has been continuously reworked and reinterpreted to fit our growing values for hundreds of years. We are not defined by the customs of our ancestors. While it may have been a common social standard in the ancient Middle East, we no longer require a woman marry her rapist. A man no longer needs to take off his shoe in a public place when his brother dies in order to not marry his widow. And through deliberately strict regulations, the rabbis have made it impossible to halachically put to death a rebellious son.
While it is still meaningful to us to remember the ways of our ancestors, we do not follow the same laws that they do. Our religion is a highly adapted and upgraded version of what came before, and this is what God wants. Interpretation is at the heart of the Torah, and it has kept our people alive through all these years, allowing us to continuously strengthen our values while still remembering and taking pride in our roots.