#homestretch

[heartlandians]

The Homestretch with Chris dela Torre, Jenny Howe Septermber 27, 2024 - Eighteen seasons of Heartland

The popular TV show Heartland is heading into its EIGHTEENTH season this weekend. Amber Marshall joins us to talk about it.

[lorelune]

i will need a kiss on the forehead when this jy fic is complete

[rukia-writes]

We are so close to RoR-

[nlights37]

Fixer-Upper Ch. 5: Teaser

Trying to get this shit wrapped up as I type this, but until then, please enjoy this peek into Joe Snow's Real Depression Hours!

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

At least a quarter of the whiskey bottle remained, and he’d committed fully to polishing it off, but it seemed like it was taking forever.

That probably had something to do with the fact that he couldn’t quite breathe through his nose.

The nose thing, well, that was from the crying, not that he would ever tell anyone about that. Especially not Dany.

Fuck, now his eyes were burning again, and he wasn’t supposed to think about HER, not her name or her smell or her taste, Gods, the way she tasted was insane. There was this spot just at the pulse in her neck, where she was so sweet, and something about the way her heartbeat would speed up under the tip of his tongue, the way he could fucking feel her getting hotter for him, just made him crazy.

Jon slapped a hand against his own cheek, wincing a second after the loud crack sounded through the air, furious with himself. “Stop it.”

He heard a whine and looked up to find Ghost watching him from the corner, which was shocking on it’s own because the dog had refused to even look at him since he’d gotten back from his breakup and subsequent breakdown in his truck. How the dog had known he’d spent an hour in that parking lot silently crying, swiping his sleeve across his face every few minutes until the fabric was soaked, he wasn’t sure.

Who the fuck even was he anymore? He didn’t remember ever being this fucking pathetic.

Ghost tilted his head at Jon.

“This is your fault,” he answered, at the question in the dog’s eyes. He jabbed a finger towards Ghost, the rest of his hand wrapped around the liquor bottle, liquid sloshing as he pointed accusingly. “You were supposed to stop me, pal. How did you let me get in this fucking deep, huh?”

Maybe it was the alcohol but he was sure, in that moment, that Ghost glared at him.

Then the dog huffed, and circled, and turned his back to Jon completely.

“Don’t give me that bullshit, man.” Jon rose, a little unsteady, passing the muted television currently playing a ‘Westerosi Pickers’ marathon that he had chosen because he thought it would distract him but really all it had done was make him wish Dany was there tucked up right next to him like she was supposed to be, making fun of the hosts and eating all his chips and doing that thing he really liked to his earlobe during commercials.

No, no, he didn’t need to think about that, and he pitched forward, hand finding the wall there in the corner, as he slipped down next to his dog, in the dark. Fuck, it was night.

How long had he been drinking?

Fuck it, it didn’t matter, because he clearly hadn’t drunk enough yet, everything still hurt too much.

Begrudgingly, Ghost shifted until he could put his head in Jon’s lap, then sighed.

“You sad, too?”

Big eyes angled up to look at him, and another low whine emerged from the dog.

Jon set aside the bottle on the floor beside him and fished in his pocket for his phone, grunting with even that minor exertion. The screen swam before his eyes at first, but he managed to connect his phone to the bluetooth speakers above the television, and he fumbled around until he finally got his music app opened, the appropriate playlist selected.

There was dead air for a moment, and he met Ghost’s eyes again, resigned. “We gotta do it, pal.” The opening strains of ‘Everybody Hurts’ began to play, and Jon shook his head regretfully as Ghost’s ears pricked up. “Time for the breakup ritual.”

This wasn’t gonna work. He knew it, even as he began to bob his head drunkenly, every forlorn word striking directly into his inebriated broken heart.

He knew it wasn’t gonna work, but that didn’t stop him from coming in where he always did, off-key and far too loud. “Don’t let yourself gooooooooo,” he bellowed, face crumpling as he started crying again, mangling the next line terribly because he was finding you couldn’t shout your heartbreak out when you were also sobbing.

But he pulled it together for the most important part, yelling and slurring to the empty room that everybody DID hurt sometimes, and he was everybody, apparently.

His head thumped back against the wall and he stopped trying to do anything but sniffle and hiccup and drink and just let the rest of the song happen to him.

It looped, three times, and now he could only manage short breaths through his mouth, but when his reddened eyes fell on the gift bag he’d shoved beside his coffee table he jumped as if he’d been electrocuted. “Fuck,” he rasped, and crawled over to get it, leaning against the base of the sofa for support as he cradled the item in his lap.

Then a chill wracked him and it clicked in his mind why he’d tried to shove this out of sight earlier.

It smelled like her. Like that fucking lemon meringue pie body wash she used that made her smell fucking edible and he could almost taste her skin under his tongue, the firm give of flesh as he would sink his teeth into the rounded curve of her hip and she would moan and thread her fingers into his hair and pull…

He let his fingers crinkle against the tissue paper and sucked in another thin stream of air through his nose, still stopped up, his eyes feeling heated and swollen as he looked down at the present she had given him.

If he opened he, that would be it. It would be over. He didn’t know why, but it made a weird sort of sense, and he was convinced that this had to be true. So maybe he just shouldn’t open it.

But he had to.

Because she gave him something, and he had to know, he couldn’t not know, what was in this bag.

His mind flashed sluggishly to the desk calendar page he had meticulously poured over before declaring it a masterpiece, a brief record of what they’d done, a little something to remember him by when she inevitably got scooped up by some lucky fuck who could behave himself at parties and be respectable and made better choices. Jon was just a ruiner, anyway, that was one thing Ygritte had probably been right about, that Jon ruined everything he touched, killed it until there was nothing left.

Dany was better off without all his bullshit, in the end.

So, while he’d had every intention of keeping Naked November for his own personal times of reflection he’d decided to give it to her.

He wondered if she had unfurled it yet, if it had made her laugh, or maybe she’d studied it with that tiny devilish little smile that always popped up whenever sex between the two of them was involved.

Maybe she was doing what he was. Maybe she was getting shitfaced drunk and listening to sad music and trying to scrape together the will to purge Jon from her life. If he were going to continue on with his own special breakup traditions he would need to go round up all the things he hadn’t given her back at the park, things around his place that he knew full well were there but he hadn’t been able to part with. Her spare toothbrush, his extra from his last dentist visit, purple plastic spangled with silver glitter, still sat in the holder by his sink. Three berry yogurts were lining the door of the fridge, along with the pale ale she’d brought the last time she’d come over. Several of Drogon’s cat toys, his ‘floaters’ that ended up travelling between both their places, were scattered in with Ghost’s.

Maybe she was wandering around her place right now and finding it was just as haunted by the spectre of him as his house was saturated with her.

Maybe she was crying. He didn’t like the thought of that, at all. She’d looked upset at the park, putting on her best unaffected face for awhile, but maybe it was just the sex she was mourning.

A small, petty part of him hoped no one ever fucked her like he did, and made make all those amazing noises she made, and he hoped she never called someone else baby in that low throaty voice that made him want to bury himself inside her until neither of them could walk. That was his, and maybe it was selfish, but he didn’t care.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, and took another drink from the bottle, smiling bitterly at the burn then thrusting his hand into the paper. He grew still when his questing fingers encountered a hard edge, and for the life of him he couldn’t begin to imagine what it could be.

So, he took a deep breath and braced himself, and pulled the object free.

[previoustags]

5 more hours...

[ashymcgee]

First color pass of The Chrome Carriage | The Ordeal or Richard Feverel. . Sofie has done a fantastic job and we are going through panels this week. . It's been a tough road, but at least I can say I finished against all odds. Thanks Damon, Sofie and Clayton for letting me live a childhood dream. . #comics #victorianliterature #indiecomics #HistoricalFiction #bookreviews #timetraveler #seattle #blackgirlmagic #blacknerdgirls #homestretch #thechromecarriage (at Seattle, Washington) https://www.instagram.com/p/CQ9fxA6Jzlg/?utm_medium=tumblr

[shintorikhazumi]

Yet (12): Go because.

A/N: Sorry it's late today!!! I practically missed a day ;-; Anyway... after this, two more chapters to the main run! Do stick around for the last two!!! Please!! Thank you for taking this ride with me! Sorry as well for... a lot of things?? Like how the last chaps are so much longer, and how it all seems like a vague mess (tho vague is on purpose). Things will be explained. Soon. I've been dropping hints to some of your questions, if you haven't noticed.

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

"What do you mean, 'no new owner' has been chosen yet?"

 "It's just as I've said, Akko."

 She had wondered what her mentor wanted to discuss, calling her over in such a formal manner for a "conversation" so important and private it seemed. They had moved from the desk of the headmistress' office to a hidden room behind some bookshelves. Akko felt hesitation build up within her, not sure if she wanted to follow her idol down the otherwise dark stairwell, only lit by a few torches along the walls, and spiraling down to the unknown.

 But a confident smile and an outstretched hand were all the persuasion she needed. She trusted Professor Chariot. She really did; always had, by the end of it all. So she followed.

 Down, down, down. A curve, a bend, a corner. Until they reached a place Akko could've sworn she'd been in before-

 {Hello, Kagari Atsuko. It's been quite some time. You may or may not recall who I am exactly; nevertheless, I have something I must ask of you.}

 "Y-you're...

Woodward."

 {Indeed.}

 "The first owner of the Shiny Rod."

 {With that knowledge, there is no need to wait any longer. It is for that exact reason that I have called you. Claiomh Solais. I believe your teacher has already informed you, and that you've met up with the trusted board?}

 Akko nodded. Woodward continued.

 {Every generation, there rises a chosen one, destined to keep ahold of it and maintain a balance in this realm of magic and wonder. The last one was you.}

 Akko's thumb fiddled with the ring around her finger, seeking comfort; something about this did not feel right.

 {You may not know many others who have been blessed with this opportunity besides Chariot, but there was once one child whose talent and affinity for the staff exceeded all who've commanded it to date. This person did wonders, made marvelous breakthroughs, changed magic through her discoveries.}

  "That all sounds amazing." Akko cut in. "But... there's something else... right?"

 {She became addicted to the feeling of the power the Claiomh Solais allowed her to unleash. She began to overuse it, research illegally for ways to possibly integrate that strong magical output into her own magic without need for it. She knew it would have to leave her hands one day.} Woodward stared at Akko. {And I believe the reason there is no new handler... is because this 'shiny rod' of yours has somehow ended up in those same hands.}

 "..." Akko didn't know what to say. She could already guess where this was going. She already knew what they wanted her to do. She wanted to help them, help save the world. Really. And yet... "So you want me to get it back? What if she doesn't really have it, this person. Isn't it alright if the rod chooses an owner a little late? Maybe we should let the process run its course, maybe no one worthy appeared this time aroun-"

 {Kagari Atsuko. I am sure of this. And I am sure that you are the only one capable of resolving this. As the former wielder, and as the one who has the closest affinity with the staff right next to the witch in the past. I am also sure that you are afraid.}

 "?! I-" It was almost as if this ghostly form was glaring at her, disappointed that she'd even dare to reject the idea.

 Akko felt a hand caress her head. Looking to the side, she saw Chariot's encouraging smile. There was something in her eyes, however, something she couldn't name. Something she did not recognize as the guilt of someone deceiving her despite not knowing what kind of deception she used.

 Chariot definitely could not help but believe she was pulling some form of trickery on Akko, a blindfold over the clear vision the woman held. She just couldn’t go against her mentor, however. There was this urgency and desperation in the request she’d received. Things she’d never seen come from the legendary witch in all her years of knowing her. Just what could she do against that?

 {Kagari Atsuko. There is an imbalance in the realm of magic as we speak. Magic is concentrating far too strongly in one area of the world, attracting even more energy to it. I believe this is where we will find what we seek. If the balance is not restored, the world could very much be thrown into discord at any given moment. So tell me. Can you, or can you not do this?}

 Could she? Could she not? It wasn't that simple. It really was not. How long would this take, and how long would she be separated from her family? How far was this place? How dangerous would this be? There were too many things to consider. She was no longer the same reckless, naive child she was then. She could not be selfish in her decisions. She had to think of how those decisions affected the ones she cherished, loved, and swore to protect.

 "M-may... may I at least inform my family about this?"

 "Akko..." Chariot saw that passion, the honesty and strength of Akko's heart, alongside her worries and fears, and hesitation to take on such a heavy mission. She turned her own hopeful gaze to her mentor, hoping for anything to lighten the burden they were forcing onto Akko.

 {No. You may not. Not yet, at least.}

 "W-why?" Something was definitely not right. What was it about this issue that could not be known to others.

 {Do you love your family, Kagari Atsuko?} Woodward suddenly asked. Akko was extremely skeptical now, with her question dodged. Still, she nodded an affirmative.

 "I love them with all my heart."

 {This is also for their own good. You wouldn't want the world they live in to be destroyed, would you? You would never desire pain, plague, or death to befall them. All these could happen if the Claiomh Solais is not retrieved posthaste.}

 Akko frowned, teeth gritted in frustration. All the more reason to let Diana know then, right? If by chance what was about to occur was something that would keep her away, possibly a lifetime away, shouldn’t she be given the chance to come clean and love and tell Diana with all honesty and transparency in her heart? Because what if... this would be the last...

 She knew there was something more to this. They were hiding it. Just what exactly. She understood the reasons as to why she must accept, but at the same time, there should be other ways, right? If more witches knew of this issue, they could band together to solve this problem! They could accomplish it with greater efficiency and surer success. So...

 "Why?!"

 {Because.}

 "Because?!"

 Woodward's spiritual form began to fade, and Akko could feel her desperate fear build up, the need to be answered so strong. She turned to Chariot for answers, but it appeared as though the woman was also seeking them from her mentor, understanding nothing of it all as well.

 "Why... why..." Akko asked the air. Her heart compelled her to go, but her conscience told her she should try to stay, still. But... what it Woodward was right... that this was something only SHE could do. Was this in the name of having as little casualty as possible? Was this... why... was this so difficult... Why... Why... why...

 Deep within her, Akko had already decided to go. She did not know why, but she just had to. She just... did she really?

 Her heart wavered and shook, uncertain. Lost. She was becoming lost, and she hadn't even left yet.

 "Why..." She whispered.

 Because.

 [This is the curse of the bearers of the greatest magic in the world.]

 And they were yet to know about it.

 {Go.}

[catrasredemption-moved]

900 words to go.

I can fucking do this.

In the daytime. I spent all of Sunday driving and it’s 2a. I need to sleep.