I am alive but this blog is dead. I don't write here any more. But I'll be damned if I let my writing disappear lol even if it's old.
will byers stan first human second
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@notthescarecrow
I am alive but this blog is dead. I don't write here any more. But I'll be damned if I let my writing disappear lol even if it's old.
Dude (I Totally Miss You) - Tenacious D
Totally miss the honesty And special times, and honestly I totally miss the fucked up thing ya do
littlemikaelson:
iiarchangel:
me: *wants to rp with more people*
me: *is incredibly easy to distract*
me: *has a pile of drafts to tend*
me: *gets picky over minor things*
me: procrastinator extraordinaireâ˘
notthescarecrow:
Anyone else might have freaked out at the demonâs apparently intimate knowledge of his power and level of control, but this was Jonathan, after all. Heâd lived with this long enough that very little ever surprised him. Dangerously genre savvy, he was sure it was called.
ââŚwhy me, though? I bet you could find anyone else to take you on, people who would love to feel special, you could make interesting deals with some of them.â
âI just want to help you. Youâre suffering because of the outbursts of your power, I knew someone like this.â Samael said, doing his best to keep his image stable. âIâm a demon. Iâm attracted to anomaliesâŚâ
âItâs not just my power and I donât think you can fix everything,â he sighed, lifting a hand to push his hair back, wincing at how limp and greasy his hair was after his adventure. âHow do I know youâre not just gonna hijack my body for some bizarre reason?â He was reedy, slender and tall and not exactly muscular. No use, really.
âIâm a man of my word. And betrayal really disgusts me, not only from moral point of view, but also personal reasonsâŚâ Samael said. âIâm ready to help you with whatever you need. Iâd at least try to⌠Ugh!â
He was really running out of energy. Almost fell.
Yeah, like that was a confirmable trait. Besides, heâd always thought demons were all about betrayal and trickery. Was he wrong?
Not that heâd ever really believed in demons until now. But anything could be real, it seemed, in some other universe.
Sighing deeply, he rubbed his temple. The other was weak and desperate. He was going to have to do something, wasnât he? âLook, alright, fine. Iâm not going to sit here feeling useless and guilty for hours after you leave, so... whatever you need to do, do it.â
notthescarecrow:
Anyone else might have freaked out at the demonâs apparently intimate knowledge of his power and level of control, but this was Jonathan, after all. Heâd lived with this long enough that very little ever surprised him. Dangerously genre savvy, he was sure it was called.
ââŚwhy me, though? I bet you could find anyone else to take you on, people who would love to feel special, you could make interesting deals with some of them.â
âI just want to help you. Youâre suffering because of the outbursts of your power, I knew someone like this.â Samael said, doing his best to keep his image stable. âIâm a demon. Iâm attracted to anomaliesâŚâ
âItâs not just my power and I donât think you can fix everything,â he sighed, lifting a hand to push his hair back, wincing at how limp and greasy his hair was after his adventure. âHow do I know youâre not just gonna hijack my body for some bizarre reason?â He was reedy, slender and tall and not exactly muscular. No use, really.
notthescarecrow:
âSo what are you offering?â
Might as well cut to the chase. What did any side effects or genie contracts matter nowadays, anyway? Especially when his reputation in the area was getting worse, his colleagues trying to pressure him to quit âfor the sake of his healthâ.
âWhat do you need, and what will you give me?â
âI will help you control your power. Surpress it and put it on right track when you need it.â The demon explained calmly. âIn return, you will let me sit in your body. I wonât possess you, per se. Just sit in there, nicely.â
Anyone else might have freaked out at the demonâs apparently intimate knowledge of his power and level of control, but this was Jonathan, after all. Heâd lived with this long enough that very little ever surprised him. Dangerously genre savvy, he was sure it was called.
â...why me, though? I bet you could find anyone else to take you on, people who would love to feel special, you could make interesting deals with some of them.â
notthescarecrow:
Okay, so this thing could fix glasses. Neat. From the way he agreed so readily with the âdeal with the devilâ bit, the possibility seemed high that this was in fact a demon. Oddly, heâd never had any dealings with demons in all his time as a⌠as a⌠whatever you called his power. This was the problem in being âspecialâ - there wasnât a handbook on it and all the terminology you needed.
ââŚAnd you think Iâm that desperate?â he asked, taking the filthy sleeve from his face long enough to check on the cut. Still seeping blood. Nice. âOr am I your only hope, Princess Leia?â
âYes, you are my only hope. Itâs a matter of time I fade away, and the more I try to show myself and show my tricks, the less time I have.â He said truthfully. âI need your help and Iâd be more than happy to help you in return.â
âSo what are you offering?â
Might as well cut to the chase. What did any side effects or genie contracts matter nowadays, anyway? Especially when his reputation in the area was getting worse, his colleagues trying to pressure him to quit âfor the sake of his healthâ.
âWhat do you need, and what will you give me?â
notthescarecrow:
No, he probably wouldnât want to, especially if it turned out the other fellow was a hallucination, since it would only lead to psychoanalysis of himself. Good thing psychoanalysis was questionable at best. He didn;t have to take it seriously when it concerned himself, then. Or at least, that was the logic he used to deflect from his own issuesâŚ
Turning his head with some difficulty, he looked at the flickering whatever-the-hell-he-was and sighed in kind. âThis is some sort of deal with the devil then, huh?âÂ
âCorrect. But this one wonât cost you your soul.â The demon said and with a light tap fixed Jonathanâs glasses. It costed him a bit, though. Samael gasped and his image flickered a bit. âDamn⌠I forgot that I shouldnât do thatâŚâ
Once he stabilized himself, he spoke again. âI could help you with that power of yours. I would just need to stay in your body as a passengerâŚâ
Okay, so this thing could fix glasses. Neat. From the way he agreed so readily with the âdeal with the devilâ bit, the possibility seemed high that this was in fact a demon. Oddly, heâd never had any dealings with demons in all his time as a... as a... whatever you called his power. This was the problem in being âspecialâ - there wasnât a handbook on it and all the terminology you needed.
â...And you think Iâm that desperate?â he asked, taking the filthy sleeve from his face long enough to check on the cut. Still seeping blood. Nice. âOr am I your only hope, Princess Leia?â
notthescarecrow:
He didnât act much like the creatures he saw in his visions, whether they were things which only existed inside his head or things in different verses he was seeing in his own. Then again, it really was hard to tell, especially which his poor eyesight and dismal situation of broken specs. He almost seemed like a trick of the light, or a weird prop from a stage show based on a sci fi movie.Â
That cigarette⌠was kind of a ridiculous touch. Raising a brow, he squinted through what remained of his glasses. âTch.â Dabbing at his cheek with a dirty sleeve, he shifted to draw his knees up towards his chest. âWell if itâs a psych evaluation you want you still need to make an appointment through the proper channels.â After his last adventure, he wasnât exactly feeling especially hospitable.
âYou wouldnât like to psychoanalyze me.â The demon chuckled softly and tilted his head to the side. âIâm here for something different, because, as you see, weâre both in quite a dire situationâŚâ
Samael knelt next to Jonathan and sighed softly.
âYou, blinking there and there, me being⌠a mere ghost of what I used to be. How about we help each-other out?â
No, he probably wouldnât want to, especially if it turned out the other fellow was a hallucination, since it would only lead to psychoanalysis of himself. Good thing psychoanalysis was questionable at best. He didn;t have to take it seriously when it concerned himself, then. Or at least, that was the logic he used to deflect from his own issues...
Turning his head with some difficulty, he looked at the flickering whatever-the-hell-he-was and sighed in kind. âThis is some sort of deal with the devil then, huh?âÂ
It was a difficult life for the miserable psychiatrist. He knew loads of people who would jump, absolutely leap at the chance of having the same powers he did, who would take the time to train and revel in being so damn special, and go on adventures and fuck the consequences.But Jonathan was getting older, and his poor mental health was his excuse often prevented him from caring too much about training. Plus, werenât you supposed to have a guide for this kind of thing? A mentor, a teacher, a tutor, someone who found you and went âokay, so hereâs your superhero card and this is the school, so letâs jump right on in to your trainingâ. It was a bitter disappointment, but life wasnât like that at all.Â
It was more like a cringe comedy, or a series of unfortunate happenings that gave rise to some sort of morbid humour. The universe, if it was sentient, was likely laughing at his misfortune.
It wasnât fun to fall into other verses and be spat back into your own covered in your own blood and in trouble for missing work for a week. In this instance, heâd only been away for a grand total of ten hours but every bone and muscle ached, and he sat in the corner heâd clawed his way back to, trembling, glasses cracked and hanging from his face. Great power, sure. Immortality and control, not so much. One of these days, it was going to kill him.
And that thing across from him, that glitchy image of a ghost of a person, that wasn;t helping in the slightest, but it was looking at him. Like it expected him to put on his therapist glasses and listen.
âWhat?â he managed, wiping blood oozing from a superficial cut on his cheek. âDid I bring you here by mistake or something? Because if I did youâll have to wait about a month or so before I can figure out how to send you back.â And he closed his eyes, cringing, waiting for some kind of reaction. Weird things like this, to his recollection, were often violent.
@feathercorp
âMistake⌠No, not at all.â The ghost said, stepping a bit closer. âIâve been following you for quite a while.â
The thing was quite unstable, shaky and glitchy, like a hologram or projection from those sci-fi movies. Looked like a man in his forties, red-haired and freckled, dressed sharply, smoking a cigarette. Quite different from how he presented himself to Samiel Blackfeather back in the daysâŚ
âDonât worry, Iâm not here to hurt you.â He raised his hands, cigarette hanging from his mouth. Oh, how much would he do for a real one right now. âJust wanted to talk, thatâs allâŚâ
He didnât act much like the creatures he saw in his visions, whether they were things which only existed inside his head or things in different verses he was seeing in his own. Then again, it really was hard to tell, especially which his poor eyesight and dismal situation of broken specs. He almost seemed like a trick of the light, or a weird prop from a stage show based on a sci fi movie.Â
That cigarette... was kind of a ridiculous touch. Raising a brow, he squinted through what remained of his glasses. âTch.â Dabbing at his cheek with a dirty sleeve, he shifted to draw his knees up towards his chest. âWell if itâs a psych evaluation you want you still need to make an appointment through the proper channels.â After his last adventure, he wasnât exactly feeling especially hospitable.
It was a difficult life for the miserable psychiatrist. He knew loads of people who would jump, absolutely leap at the chance of having the same powers he did, who would take the time to train and revel in being so damn special, and go on adventures and fuck the consequences.But Jonathan was getting older, and his poor mental health was his excuse often prevented him from caring too much about training. Plus, werenât you supposed to have a guide for this kind of thing? A mentor, a teacher, a tutor, someone who found you and went âokay, so hereâs your superhero card and this is the school, so letâs jump right on in to your trainingâ. It was a bitter disappointment, but life wasnât like that at all.Â
It was more like a cringe comedy, or a series of unfortunate happenings that gave rise to some sort of morbid humour. The universe, if it was sentient, was likely laughing at his misfortune.
It wasnât fun to fall into other verses and be spat back into your own covered in your own blood and in trouble for missing work for a week. In this instance, heâd only been away for a grand total of ten hours but every bone and muscle ached, and he sat in the corner heâd clawed his way back to, trembling, glasses cracked and hanging from his face. Great power, sure. Immortality and control, not so much. One of these days, it was going to kill him.
And that thing across from him, that glitchy image of a ghost of a person, that wasn;t helping in the slightest, but it was looking at him. Like it expected him to put on his therapist glasses and listen.
âWhat?â he managed, wiping blood oozing from a superficial cut on his cheek. âDid I bring you here by mistake or something? Because if I did youâll have to wait about a month or so before I can figure out how to send you back.â And he closed his eyes, cringing, waiting for some kind of reaction. Weird things like this, to his recollection, were often violent.
@feathercorp
Tagged by: @phobiiia (in like May, oops) â¨Name: Aileen â¨Nickname: I normally go by Violet on the interwebs so *shrug* â¨Gender: female â¨Height: 5â 3âł â¨Hogwarts house: Ravenclaw â¨Favorite Color(s): purple, black, blue, green â¨Time Right Now: 20:37 â¨Average Hours of Sleep: lol idk â¨Lucky Number: 13 â¨Last Thing I Googled: Probably something about Pokemon â¨Favorite Fictional Character: this is hard donât make me do this â¨Number of Blankets I Sleep Under: I sleep under a duvet so â¨Favorite Artist/s: My sister. Also my friends. And my sisterâs friends. â¨Dream Job: Anything related to Biochem/Immuno/Micro â¨What Iâm Wearing Right Now: A new shirt and some old jogging trousers. â¨When Did You Create Your Blog: i do not remember lol â¨Current Number of Followers: 92 â¨What Do You Post About: *tumbleweeds blow past* â¨Why Did You Choose Your URL: Because the whole gimmick is heâs named after the Scarecrow. I know; Iâm so clever. â¨I TAG: @feathercorp, @thetruththatshouldbe, @augmentxd, @one-eyed-engineer and whoever else wants to do it 8p
//itâs dusty in this account
//I canât believe there are still 89 of you.
like... 20 of you are porn bots but still
//note that this blog is pretty much on hiatus atm, I'm still capable and willing of being here but there's not much call for Jonathan atm? So I'm hanging out most of the time over @everymidnightsdreary. Lyn Crawford is a medium who doesn't really know much about his mediumship powers but he does know he doesn't like his spirit companion much. spoilers: it's Edgar Allan Poe. go play with lyn u know u wanna
Hallucination Starters!
âHey, snap out of it! Thereâs nobody here!â âDonât be ridiculous, that kind of stuff only exists in bad horror movies.â âHelp me! Someoneâs been following me for over twenty minutes now, I canât shake him/her!â âYou mustâve heard that⌠It was loud a-and it seems to be coming our way!â âI didnât just imagine it! It was there, I swear!â âNo, no, no, you canât be real! You died!â âYouâre seeing things againâŚâ âIâm not making it up this time! There was someone there, Iâm sure of it!â âAre you high? What the hell are you on about?â âYouâre hallucinating! You need to try to calm down!â âI think youâre seeing things that arenât there.â âHow can I be sure that youâre real?â âThatâs it, Iâm calling a doctor, youâre freaking me out.â âYouâve got a high fever⌠Youâre going delirious. Let me help you, please!â âSo, what youâre telling me is that thereâs some kind of ghost murderer following us that I canât see?â âThereâs medication for this sort of stuff, you know? Maybe you should take it.â âI think you might be having a flash back, youâre screaming at a door. Look at me! Ssh, calm down.â âThereâs nothing there.â âThereâs something there, I swear! You need to believe me or weâre both going to get hurt!â âHeâs there⌠heâs there⌠I saw him, oh god, oh my god!â âItâs not invisible, it doesnât exist. Thatâs a different thing.â âWhat are you seeing?â âClose your eyes, what youâre seeing is not real, you have to listen to my voice, alright?â âDid you take something? Youâre not making sense!â âYou have to focus on me, thereâs no one else here.â âWho are you talking to?â
//I just really love reading back over jontendo stuff. I really do. I love other ships I have going but jontendo was (is) such a natural pair. I love that they have fights and I love that they're stupidly devoted to each other and I love that they tease each other and sometimes fail to understand each other and are always learning about each other and changing and growing
they have things they dislike about each other but things they adore and there's compromise and adversity and so much love I just
ugh.