#I would probably get pop ups about it on buzzfeed and pretend I didn’t just get sent to visual hell

[hotsinglehorsesinyourarea11037]

Hey how come humanity hasn’t capitalised on adult diapers . It sounds terrible I know but pads are more or less that and humanity is already doomed down the crapper plus I’ve met atleast 4 people that may as well just have had shit in their pants already so I’m just sayin

Also I’m not saying that I’d use them im just saying that out of EVERY PRODUCT god threw at us. We haven’t. Tried to sell this one yet ? Gamers would invest good money into this yknow there’s profit if I kickstarted this

[wild-aloof-rebel]

I know you're not really intending to post about Happiest Season but I'd appreciate your insight if you wouldn't mind talking about it? I was really excited about it but now I'm not so sure. I've read a couple of comments that said it's super negative and full of homophobia and not the joyful movie we need right now. Buzzfeed did a whole article, which I haven't read to avoid spoilers, but the headline implies the same thing. Do I want to watch it? Is Dan alone worth it?

yeah, i certainly don’t mind talking about it. mostly i said that i wasn’t gonna post a lot about it because i don’t want to spoil anything for people still waiting to watch it, nor do i want to turn my blog into a happiest season free-for-all, but i’m def happy to give you some thoughts about it. i’m gonna put it under a cut anyway just in case...

i’ll start by saying that i largely agreed with the buzzfeed review, just to let you know up front that i am not gonna say you should unreservedly give it a go.

i think my issues with the movie (of which there are many) can be largely boiled down to three Big Things, that i’m gonna try to make as unspoilery as possible here.

1.) the family in this movie is mean. (most of them at least.) they outright and intentionally choose over and over to be cruel to each other, sometimes viciously and violently so. that was a way bigger problem for me than their sort of casual homophobia. i mean you at least know going in that there’s probably going to be some homophobia, right? there’s obviously a reason she hasn’t come out to her parents, so you can expect that that’s probably going to pop up on occasion throughout the movie. 

the outright cruelty of the family was a whole different story. i don’t feel like you really get that from the trailer at all (i actually just rewatched the trailer, and basically the only times they’re remotely nice to each other in the movie are what’s shown there), so it was a bit of an unwelcome surprise. i don’t personally enjoy spending 102 minutes watching people just be relentlessly and actively unkind. like david and alexis are obviously mean to one another sometimes, as siblings occasionally are, but even in s1 when that was at its most prevalent, they would still have moments of levity between them or moments where they’d come together to roll their eyes at their parents—times where it’s clear that they do actually love each other and are on the same side underneath it all. but there pretty much aren’t any moments like that with this family, where you really feel like they actually care about each other, and that, for me at least, makes for a pretty joyless watching experience.

2.) while i empathize with harper’s situation (i mean, looking at her family, i wouldn’t want to have to come out to them either), i do not empathize with her as half of this relationship i’m supposed to be rooting for. 

there are definitely quite a few people who have said they feel seen by what harper is going through in not being able to come out to her conservative family and who have liked seeing themselves and their struggle represented in a very real way. and i think that’s obviously totally valid, and i appreciate that the movie gives voice to those kinds of stories in a way that makes people feel like they’re seeing themselves on screen.

but this isn’t just supposed to be a movie entirely about harper and her struggles with her family. this is billed as a romantic comedy. her relationship with abby should be the central focus of the movie. sure, obviously they’re hiding a secret so they’re not just going to be openly making out in front of everyone or whatever, but in the private moments, the quiet moments, the tiny little moments where it should be like, yes, you, i love you and i’m so glad you’re here with me even though this situation is hard, the movie often runs almost the entire opposite direction. even if she feels like she can’t choose to come out right now, harper can choose to at least treat abby with the sort of kindness and love that is clearly missing from her family situation. but she doesn’t even spend most of the movie treating abby with the level of care that the friend/roommate she’s supposed to be pretending to be deserves, and so instead, i spent the majority of the movie actively rooting for abby to leave.

now, is there a place for that kind of story? sure. if you want to write a movie about how having to hide who you are is making you push away even the one person you’re supposed to love most, there can certainly be value in that. but that’s not a romantic comedy; that’s a different movie entirely.

which brings me to my last point... 

3.) the fact that it’s marketed as a holiday romcom is terribly misleading. this movie is not a holiday romcom. there is hardly any comedy in the movie (it’s mostly in dan’s scenes tbh), even less romance, and certainly very little that i’d consider holiday cheer. yes, as you can tell from the marketing, it has the happy ending you would expect from the genre, but getting there is largely painful and doesn’t, in my opinion, feel at all earned. 

ultimately, i think if you go into it expecting a family drama with a few funny scenes and a sprinkle of a romantic side plot, that will help some. i mean, i basically knew that from seeing what people were saying beforehand and still didn’t enjoy the majority of the movie, but i definitely think it helps to temper your expectations if you’re going to watch it.

now, is it worth all that for dan’s parts of the story?

his scenes were certainly the most entertaining and likable parts of the movie for me. john is the one thing that i think is exactly what you’d expect from the trailers, and dan is great in the role, of course. and he does give one very lovely, i think very dan speech toward the end of the movie. but is it worth sitting through all the rest to watch his parts? 🤷‍♀️ only you can really decide that. if what i’ve told you above hasn’t made you not want to watch, go for it. and if it has, i’m sure that soon enough someone will put together a dan supercut or will just have gif’d all of his scenes, and you’ll be able to see just those parts and forget the rest. or if all else fails, put it on and fast forward any time he isn’t on screen...

[crowtrinkets]

There are No Ghosts at Fathom Castle

The barista cannot sleep because something or someone is making noises late at night. Felix tries to convince them there are no ghosts. But is it true?

Gender Neutral Reader as always

I hope people laugh at the BuzzFeed unsolved quotes as I did lol. I don't have a set time that this takes place, just sometime after the MC yknow *dead sounds*The trash house story is actually based on a house my friends and I found one, we all dicked around in it like a bunch of idiots and I'm p sure something followed me home :)

Tags: @sadnhvibes @uselessbeanies

Words: 3,514

*THUMP*

I am roused from my sleep, sitting up quickly, frantically looking for the source of the sound. Nothing. What was I doing? I glance down and notice the book in front of me. Right, I was reading and I guess I must have fallen asleep.

"Stella? Did you break into my room again? You better not be knocking Felix's books over again you know how he hates that," I call out. I don't hear the telltale sign of Stella's meows so she must not be in here. I sit up properly, stretching my sore muscles, groaning with my aching bones. I stand and stumble over to my bed, if I'm going to be asleep it should at least be somewhere comfortable. Curling up in my blankets, I let my eyes flutter shut and slowly drift off.

*THUMP*

I snap my eyes open when I hear the sound a second time, this time it's followed by footsteps. That definitely was not Stella. I grab my blanket and wrap it around myself, grabbing a nearby lit candle. I hastily put on my shoes and cautiously approach the door. I slowly push it open, enough that the hinges don't creek.

Stepping out of my room, trying desperately to remain quiet and unseen, I cup my hand around the flame to protect it and shield the light from whoever is lurking in the halls. The steps are getting louder, approaching me ever so slowly. Like its taunting me. I back up against the wall, just before the corner turns, and take in a deep breath. I should have brought a weapon but maybe I can scare the intruder, I grab the corner of my blanket so I can throw it if need be. The steps are louder now, just before they reach the corner I swing around to catch them by surprise.

"AAAAH-AAUGHHHH!" I drop the candle before I can get a good look at the intruder's to face. In an instant, green flames are thrown at me, along with the intruder's screams, I fall backward and toss my blanket at the flames, scooting backward, frantically trying to get away. My blanket catches alight and falls to the ground, a flurry of green flames and feathers. I look up and meet the intruder's eyes, my breath labored and heavy.

"Felix!?" I say. Felix has his hand supporting him against the wall, trying to catch his own breath. He meets my eyes and speaks my name.

"What are you doing attacking me with your bedding in the dead of night?" Felix tries to remain whispering, but his voice is high-pitched with fear.

"What are you doing stalking around at night? And what's with the thumping?" I point at him accusatorially from the ground. Felix eyes me up and down, his gaze dropping to my blanket, which is still very much on fire. The flames illuminate his expression. Casting green light and shadows on his tired yet confused expression. I finally get to my feet dusting myself off.

"I could not sleep… Anyhow, are you alright? Not singed or injured in any way?" Felix's concern seems serious but I can't help but still feel shaken.

"No, but I feel like I lost 5 years off my lifespan," I run a hand through my hair trying to calm my violently beating heart.

"Well, yes, dying and coming back will do that to you,"

"Huh?"

"What?" Felix's eyes snap to mine, the hallway filling with an awkward silence.

"I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that," I say with a sigh. Just then the fire from the blanket goes out. "Oh great now its pitch black, and I dropped my candle too," I grumble. I hear metal clinking and then suddenly my candle is alight in Felix's hand, who hands it to me.

"Oh um, thank you," I say, reaching to take it from his hand. Our fingers graze and I suddenly feel more awake and aware, or maybe it was because I had the bejeezus scared out of me a second ago. Taking the candle holder from Felix I clear my throat.

"So um, couldn't sleep? Does thumping around relax you or something?" I try to joke.

"Thumping? I'm afraid I don’t know what you're talking about?" Felix states, crossing his arms.

"Well, it sure as hell wasn't Stella,"

"You'd be surprised what she can do," his tone turning serious.

"Well if you weren't making those thumping sounds then who was?" Felix gives me a shrug. I chuckle slightly. "Maybe it was a ghost,"

"Oh please, if there were ghosts here I would know, and besides they wouldn't just make things go bump in the night,"

"Says the man that turned into a ghost and followed me from Porrima back to Fathom,"

"I was not-!" Felix cuts himself off with a sigh. "Trust me when I tell you this dear barista, there are no ghosts in Fathom castle,"

THUMP

We both jump, inching closer together, frantically looking around in the darkness, I hold the candle up to see if I can illuminate the hallway a bit, but it remains dark and shadowy, much to our dismay.

"That definitely didn’t come from Stella," my voice barely above a whisper.

"Please, if anything it's probably Sage trying to mess with us," Felix takes a step forward, trying to appear brave, but I can hear the shake of his voice. "Hilarious Sage, you can stop your charade now though, no need to frighten out friend, the hour is late,"

No response.

"Felix I don't think it's Sage,"

"Isn't there a particular bar calling your name about now?" Felix shouts down the dark hall. Still no response. His shoulders drop as he takes a step back, his eyes still scanning the darkened hallway.

"Maybe it was a ghooost" I mimic my best haunting voice and wave my free hand ominously at Felix who only scoffs.

"If there were ghosts here they would not be able to move objects on their own, and they do not sound like that!" Felix states, but I can sense a hint of a smile in the candlelight.

“Well, I won't be able to go back to bed now, fancy some ghost hunting Felix?” I nudge his side. Felix lets out a sigh as he glances at me, eyeing me up and down.

“Well alright, but don’t get your hopes up, I doubt we’ll see anything,” I can feel the excitement, or maybe fear, well in me, we begin to walk down the hallway together, looking for the source of the sound.

“So Felix, tell me about Fathom's ghostly history?”

“What other than the thousands of Starsworn who died?

“Right… Well, every haunted place has a story of some sort, it explains why it’s haunted,”

“Oh really? Such as?” Felix’s tone is almost teasing, as a smirk form upon his lips.

“Well, hmm… Oh, one time when I was a teenager my friends and I went walking in the dark. We found an abandoned house that was absolutely filled with trash and other items,”

“What does this have to do with hauntings?”

“Well, someone wrote 'it's under the house' on one of the walls,”

“And what was under the house?”

“I’m not actually sure, none of us wanted to go digging in trash, but I'm sure something followed me home, I would always hear weird sounds at night after that day,” I hear Felix scoff once again.

“Even if there were ghosts in that place I doubt they would follow you home, you were probably paranoid,” I shrug off his comment and we continue to walk down the corridor in silence.

Our shoes echo off the walks, the only sound other than the wick of the candle, popping occasionally. We continue to walk in silence, almost like we have run out of things to say. And neither one of us dare to break it. But the thump comes once again, stopping us in our tracks, wind flows through the corridor putting out my light. Without thinking I reach for Felix’s hand in the darkness as I let out a startled gasp. I can hear Felix’s breath hitch as he grips my hand as well.

"Felix, you're not doing that right?"

"No of course not!" the thumping becomes more frantic and louder. It's getting closer.

"Well, I'm not staying to find out!" I grip Felix's hand and book it back towards my room. Dragging Felix back with me, throwing the candle holder in the direction of the sound. He yelps in response but follows me through the dark halls. We finally make it to my room and I close the door behind us.

"Why did you run? I thought you wanted to find the ghost?" Felix says between gasps.

"I'm not fond of being attacked in the dark" I say.

"Well, now you've tossed away our light source,"

"Oh, Ummm," I think for a moment and walk to the table in my room, I rummage through my backpack which is placed on top. I pull out my house keys and remove the miniature flashlight from the key ring. I flick it on and shine it on Felix, avoiding his face, he squints at the sudden light facing him.

"Gods, what is that?"

"It's a flashlight, just a handy dandy Earth invention,"

"Your Earth 'slang' as you call it, never ceases to baffle me,"

"You wouldn't happen to have holy water? Or even a crucifix?"

"A what?"

"Ok, maybe we can just will the ghost away?"

"What? What are you talking about,"

“So we can banish the ghost!” I say almost a little too enthusiastically.

“There is no ghost!” Felix sounds exasperated at this point.

“You’re right, it can’t be a ghost…. More than anything it’s a poltergeist or a demon,” a smile creeps across my lips. Felix lets out a long sigh, he stares at the ceiling almost like he’s asking the heavens ‘why’.

“C’mon Felix it’s just for fun, and besides something is making that sound so we have to find it,” I approach Felix, hoping he’s not too annoyed and will go with me. His eyes meet mine and he stares just for a second.

“Fine, yes, we really should find the source of the noise,” I return Felix's grimace with a smile as we exit my room.

The hallway is just as dark and ominous as before. I scan my flashlight as far as it will reach. It’s a cheap dollar store flashlight I got for emergencies, so it doesn’t reach that far, but it's better than nothing.

“Hey there demons, it's me, ya Earthling,” I call out into the hallway.

“What? What does that even mean?” Felix sounds utterly dumbfounded. I’m now reminding myself to brush him up on the great Earth classics.

“Its nothing, just a little friendly greeting for the ghosts,”

THUMP

The sound again. It comes from one end of the hallway. Felix and I glance at each other and with a nod, we head towards its direction. I light up what little I can of the hallway as we make our way to the source of the sound. Our breath shallow so as to not allow whoever's there to hear us approaching. We make our way around a corner, peaking just before we move forward.

“Do you hear that?” Felix puts a hand out in front of me.

“What I don’t hear-“ I stop when the sound of a wailing echoes silently through the hall. “I-is that a woman crying?”

“It must be the wind, there’s a terrible draft in this castle,” Felix’s voice wavers slightly, but he clears his throat as though to mask it.

“No… that sounds like a woman crying,” I feel my nerves bubble in my stomach, telling me to go back to the safety of my room. But I have to know what this sound is, and even then I don’t think I'd be able to fall asleep. I suddenly feel warmth on my hand, even in the dark I can tell it's Felix. I squeeze his fingers in mine.

“Let's keep moving,” he whispers to me, we then continue down the path, towards the crying voice.

“Yknow back on Earth there's a famous ghost called La Llorona, she wanders the streets at night wailing for her dead children,”

“I guess grief can transcend the grave as well,”

“Well, some people say she killed them,”

“...Maybe we should talk about something else,”

“Right,”

As we continue down the halls, the wailing seems to travel, never in one spot or room, it’s almost as though it wants us to follow. Eventually, we end up outside of the castle, where we approach a rather rickety-looking bridge connecting two sections of the castle together. We walk into the moonlight, the chill air nipping at our skin. I am suddenly mourning my blanket.

Felix pulls his hand away from mine and walks over to the ledge of a wall near the bridge, looking up at the sky. Turning off and pocketing my flashlight I stand by his side.

“Are you usually up this late?” I break the silence.

“Usually yes, my sleeping habits are temperamental so I tend to take walks, hence why I was out and about when you frightened me,” Felix says, eyes never leaving the stars.

“Right, sorry about that, you do owe me a new blanket though,”

“Yes, I suppose,” Felix chuckles. I lean forward on the wall and look at the surroundings of the castle, lots of water, I can also see the forest I occasionally take walks in. Taking a deep breath I start again.

“If you ever can't sleep you can always see if I'm up, and if I am we can take a walk together,” I glance over at Felix who stiffens slightly, but then a small smile forms on his lips,”

“I would very much enjoy that,” he states. The moonlight shining brightly on him, casting his frame in cool blue light, fitting to the cold air surrounding us.

Suddenly a rattling sound startles us. Both straightening from our spots Felix and I look at the bridge, which shakes slightly. Felix and I approach it, gawking at the bridge which starts to shake more and more violently, almost like someone is jumping on it. I look across the other side and see a door in the castle wall, slightly ajar, something white flowing in the corner.

“What is that!” I point across the bridge. Felix squints.

“I’m not sure, but there must be some explanation,” at this point the bridge is rattling loud enough that Felix and I have to yell.

“Is there an explanation for a bridge moving violently like this?!” I wildly gesture at the bridge. Felix winces at my comment.

“No I don’t think so,”

"Screw this," I take a deep breath and grip Felix’s sleeve.

“FUCK YOU, GOATMAN!” I shout at the top of my lungs, running as fast as possible across the bridge, dragging Felix in tow. The bridge continues to shake but I keep my balance and speed. As I run towards the door frame the white object disappears behind the door, I kick in the door, and once Felix and I make it inside I slam it shut. I scan for whatever disappeared behind the door but I don't see it.

“Goatman?” Is all Felix can blurt out.

“Oh yknow, another famous Earth ghost. He attacks people who play on his bridge, thought I would cover my bases and scream at him,”

“Earth is quite obsessed with death and the afterlife, and you call me morbid,” Felix retorts. I look around the room for any doors or hallways, but there are only stairs that lead back to the inside of the castle.

“I guess all we can do is head down,” Felix nods and once I bring out my flashlight, we descend the stairs. Once we reach the bottom I notice a white blur disappear behind a door. I grab onto Felix’s sleeve and pull him close so I can whisper into his ear.

“I saw something go into that door Felix, I think it’s the ghost we saw earlier,”

“I didn’t see anything,”

“Well, I did! And at this point, I'm tired of chasing it!" I storm towards the door, Felix whispering protests behind me. I kick open the door and scan my flashlight around the room. It seems we're in a small mess hall of sorts. There are tables and benches everywhere, but I don't see anyone else in the room.

"I don't see the point of chasing something that potentially isn't even there!" Felix comes up behind me, sounding very done with our hunt. Just as Felix makes his way in, the door slams shut behind us. I shine my light at the door and see no one behind us. I approach the door and pull on the knob, trying to get it open, but it won't budge. I shoot Felix a worried glance, his lips forming into a grimace.

"Open the door!" Felix's voice wavers between scared and annoyed.

"I'm trying it won't budge!" I continue to pull on the door. Felix approaches and pulls on the door as well. But it remains closed. I suddenly feel the hairs on my neck stand, almost like someone is watching me, I tense my shoulders daring not to turn around. Put a hand on Felix's shoulders, I lean in to whisper in his ear.

"Felix I think someone is behind me," without waiting for a beat Felix turns around, his eyes going wide, he backs against the door and grabs my arm pulling me close. I turn around to see what he's looking at. There stands, the shape of a woman, standing a few feet away. White cloths drape her figure shielding her face. She reaches a hand out to us and the wailing we heard earlier in the castle starts to emit from her. At this point, my whole body is shaking.

"Felix I think that's the ghost,"

"N-no! It cant be, it must be Sage," Felix continues to grip my arm, holding me close to him or maybe he's shielding himself but at this point, I'm too scared to question it. "Ok Sage you can let up now, we're trapped in this room so there's no reason to keep going with your little prank," But the figure continues to advance on us. I reach behind me and continue to pull on the doorknob, hoping it finally opens. However, my prayers are answered too soon and the door does open. Felix and I falling backward, our backs hitting something behind us.

"Boo," a deep voice growls into our ears.

"AAAUGH!" Felix and I both jump and swing around to see…

"Sage!!" I shout, my thoughts catch up to me and I turn back around only to see.

"Annie!?" Felix retorts. Anisa pulls the cloth from her face and bursts out laughing, Sage, following suit. In between shaky breathes Felix and I look at the two of them and back at each other, confusion and fear plastered on our faces.

"I think I need to sit down," I stumble over to the wall and lean against it, sliding down until I'm sitting on the floor.

"I knew it was just Sage messing with us, but Anisa! How could you,"

"I'm so sorry! It's just Sage had the idea and I couldn't resist having a little fun," Anisa says as she wipes tears from her eyes. Her fangs poking through her smile. Sage is now on the floor, having difficulty containing his laughter.

"Oh, the look on your faces! And Felix trying so hard to open the door!" Sage grips his stomach until his laughing subsides to which he lets out a sigh and sits up, using his left arm to support himself.

"So the wailing in the castle? That was you?" He gestures to Anisa who nods in response, trying to stifle her laugh.

"What about the bridge that couldn't have possibly been you?" he turns to Sage.

"Tied a rope to the bridge and pulled on it from the moat! I got a little wet in the process but I feel it was worth it," Sage sends a wink in my direction. To which I roll my eyes, still trying to calm my nerves.

"I do hope you'll forgive us," Anisa walks over to me and crouches by my side. I let out a sigh and look between Sage and Anisa.

"I guess it was kind of funny," I say.

"Nothing funny about scaring the lights out of someone," Felix mumbles under his breath.

"I think I can recall a certain someone setting many things on fire as a "prank", Felix?" Anisa shoots him a smug smile. Felix flushes slightly and shrugs. Anisa calls my name to get my attention. "How are you feeling?" I finally sit up from the wall and look at the three of them processing the night I just had with Felix.

"Like, you all owe me a new blanket,"

[iampikachuhearmeroar]

sometime in this last week, or this week coming, my blog has turned/turns 10. god. a decade old. a whole ass chunk of my life i’ve spent on this hellsite. when i began on here, i was a kid. a lost, lonely, depressed and anxious 15/16 year old kid. a kid scared of her future. a kid confused about her future. what to do for uni. to change schools or not??? to do drama/acting at uni or english/philosophy or to move 8hrs away to another regional uni to “escape” her “washed up, dead end hometown” that was so typical of all the pop-punk music that she was listening to at the time.

she was a tad overdramatic, loud, “funny” (as described by her school friends) and terribly forgetful in regards to homework and school assignments. she was angry at the world, most especially the catholic school she was fucking sick and tired of attending. but she was convinced that since she was the so-called “funny girl”, that she simply couldn’t be depressed or anxious. she believed herself unloveable because she didn’t look like a weird mixture of hayley williams and emo-pop queen lights. but now, i no longer believe that i have to look like the women that i looked up to in the ~emo scene~. fuck beauty standards. i am loveable.

in the years since joining tumblr, i’ve managed to get through business college, my undergrad degree and, well, failed out of postgrad due to obvious burnout and health issues amongst other things. although i’ve lost many friends irl and many followers/mutuals online on here. for those who’ve stuck around to see me get through all of this, thank you. to all the friends/casual mutuals that have since deactivated or only followed me for a short time then unfollowed; thank you.

like obviously i was never/have never been a massive popular blog on here, like thebootydiaries or vampireapologist (who has since deactivated a couple of months ago) with tens of thousands of followers. my follower count is still close to the 8,000 range at 7,892. obviously that’s still a lot of people (and of course, porn bots lmao and many, many non-active blogs), enough like one super old post from like 2012 tumblr pointed out, enough for a small to medium sized city or town, or something like that. i don’t know how many people i’ve really reached. i really don’t know how i actually amassed this small army of people.

i am aware though, that on other platforms like snapchat (lmao does anyone even use it anymore in 2021???)/instagram/youtube/tiktok etc, i’d PROBABLY be considered as some type of ~micro influencer (🤮🤮)~. hell, i actually had a bot slide into my notes about being one on here on this hellsite back in 2019. i don’t know if i’ve ever actually ~influenced~ anyone on here with my shitposts (when i started making some) or my personal posts. i don’t know my reach. even though, now, i do occasionally get featured on buzzfeed listicles (although pay me buzzfeed along with the OPs of those original embedded posts), i still don’t know how many people i’ve reached… and even with my very occasional checks of google analytics lmao. on top of this, grappling with the loss of followers at times is much, much easier than it was when i began on here and the first few years following that. i know that my follower count doesn’t determine my worth and stuff.

but over these 10 years, i have grown. i turn 26 this year. back in 2011, 15/16yo me never thought she’d be here. she was partially down the suicidal thoughts hole, with things about ~picturing her funeral and wondering who’d bother to turn up. if only she could pretend to be dead for a day to see who’d give a fuck~ and 16-18yo me was defs down it with her HSC hellscape thoughts in 2012/2013. that 3rd floor tafe/tech women’s bathroom window drop and the thought of scarring her class for life (and that cool dude from catholic school that she crushed on who ended up at tafe with her) with jumping out of it onto the concrete below. instead, she just posted on fb about ~being a failure~ etc which ultimately did lose her a bunch of facebook friends lmao. it was practically the same thing. her mental breakdown after the end of her hsc, where she let her earrings go green and get infected in her ears because “fuck self care, bc what the fuck is it??? i’ll never get better! let me fucking wallow in my self loathing bc it’s the only thing that i’m fucking good at!!!” so i no longer have my ears pierced. oh! it was just all too fucking much!!

i am happier today. i no longer have those semi-suicidal thoughts. hell, i almost died in 2020 from a fucking bowel aneurysm, after my stomach tumour excision surgery. that forced me to put things into perspective. i appreciate the little things . i appreciate the very few friends that i actually have. yes. i’m still depressed and anxious. some days are still shitty and hard. but nowhere as hard and shitty as they were back when i began on here 10 years ago.

how the fuck last 10 years have gone past, with my ass on here; clearing out my blog and caring more about doing that than my uni work (lmao whoops); having made some lifelong friends both internationally (from the US) and long distance domestically in australia, it’s been a long ride; i honestly have no fucking idea. obviously over these past 10 years, i’ve debated with myself over and over and over again whether i should delete/deactivate this account or not. would it make me healthier??? more than likely. but then when i have meltdowns or just inner ramblings i have to get out somewhere, where else to post??? on fb?? obvs not. it’s “attention seeking” or the like on there. no one will read them. no one will resonate. but on here??? even if i got/get one “like” in the notes or one “yo i feel this” response in the tags or replies, it feels like i’ve reached someone??? okay yeah. i know this place IS NOT therapy and i’m not using my followers as amateur (or probs even actual professional) armchair psychologists…. which is a thing i think people need to stop doing internet-wide: but that’s a whole other post that i reblogged a few days ago lmao. i really need to get another therapist, actually lmao.

but it’s the community i’ve found hard to leave. i have what feel like friends, when i’ve never been employed (still as of yet); and when all of my irl friends/acquaintances are working and doing the whole ~adulting~ and ~grown up life~ thing right. it’s also the frenzied rabidness of spite with hating staff’s godawful ideas. the memes. oh the memes. and also the RaWrInG 20s XD emo scene reemergence on here that’s kept me here. the messy petty drama from time to time of big blogs fighting it out.

this place really is bizarre and fun sometimes. and also the fact that i can still hide behind the ridiculous “roaring pikachu” URL that i made all those years ago. i am anonymous. it’s freeing. but on fb it’s all like “WHY WONT YOU ADD A BANNER IMAGE AND TELL US 20 FUN FACTS ABOUT YOU!!!!!???? LET PEOPLE WHO HAVENT SPOKEN TO YOU IN 10 YEARS KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU BECAUSE WE’RE ALL FRIENDS HERE!!!” and the same goes for Corporate Hellscape Facebook™️ (linkedin) but in the professional sense instead. y’all know fuck all about me really. besides my posts. and i love that and live for that. okay yeah. y’all know more about my mental health than my fb feed obvs… which is probably a terribly unfortunate thing. but still.

over the last 10 years then, my superiority complex for being ~so original and intelligent~ or whatever the fuck i had in high school, has all but ebbed away. i’m not that smart just because i went to uni. hell, i literally did NONE of my in-class work and none of my philosophy readings in uni….. so i have fuck all idea of how i got through undergrad like that lmao. i’m not original when so many people can articulate the same thoughts that i have, but like, sometimes better, on a post (even though sometimes/most of the time the Tumblr User Hot Takes Tuesday™️ takes on here are fucking awful lmao). but still. originality is not something i really have anymore. or really had in the first place lmao.

so will i deactivate after these 10 years, like i’ve been saying for so, so long??? i honestly have no idea. but just know. thanks guise. have a nice gpoy selfie day XD. grab your wands. your tardises. grab your war paint. grab your whatever the fuck other fandom specific stuff that was one that hella cringe post from 2011 til 2015 random tumblr. that relic is as old as time itself. just as this mysterious roaring pikachu is for someone whose too loyal to leave this W E B B E D H E L L S I T E that’s just as much of a train wreck as she is. lmao.

[shotgun--rider]

Rumor

A Jensen x Reader oneshot

Y/N’s never considered how many suspiciously snuggly photos there are of her and her best friend. Then they all come out in a Buzzfeed article, published just in time for everyone to grill her during her solo panel. Now what?

Word Count: 4000

Warnings: Really dumb fluff, everyone’s anxious, Jared and Briana are sick of everyone’s shit

A/N: This is dumb and fluffy and dangerously song-fic territory but it showed up and demanded to be written so here you go. I have no idea if this is actually any good. Enjoy?

---------* ---------

You were the epitome of normal, growing up. You had decent grades, run-of-the-mill hobbies, and an average high school cashier job. You could hop on your bike (and later, borrow your parents’ car) and take yourself to the coffee shop, or to a friend’s, and the only people that  would look twice at you were drivers checking to make sure the kid on the bike didn’t steer into traffic. 

You didn’t win any “most likely to” awards in the yearbook, your college major was undecided for an embarrassing length of time, and your 300-odd Instagram followers were comprised of friends and some polite acquaintances from welcome week. And you didn’t mind. You were perfectly happy to go through your day-to-day without turning heads and making waves. 

That was all before you’d answered an open casting call on a whim, strapped for cash and mostly there because a sparkly website proclaiming “50 Easy Side Hustles!” had suggested spending your weekends as an extra if you lived in a big filming city. Before your three-episode contract in a show you’d never bothered to watch turned into a series regular.

Now, you’re pretty much guaranteed to have your face splashed across the internet every time you stick a toe off the end of your L.A. property line. Even if the paparazzi aren’t there to get you in Page Six with some wildly exaggerated nonsense, a fan somewhere will snap a blurry photo and upload it somewhere for people to shout about you in the comments section. You’ve never gotten used to being tagged in edits of your own face, or watching your follower count creep steadily upwards. You’re just… you. You’ve always been just the normal, average girl from a nothing-special hometown.  

Even after your third year running on Supernatural, you still forget. You still make it all the way to the end of the block before you remember that the person shouting your name is the bodyguard you accidentally abandoned two errands ago. You still get confused when the restaurant wait staff stares at you, still get annoyed calls from your publicist begging you to at least try to appear in fewer coffee shop paparazzi pictures looking like a disgruntled zombie who’s never seen a hairbrush. (Sue you, you can’t be expected to be functional before a cup of coffee.)

You’re a brilliant actress, an unexpected fan-favorite, relatable to everyone in your autograph line...and you’re kind of a terrible celebrity. Unlike certain child models turned actors straight at 18 you may know, this isn’t a world you were trained in. Which is probably why it doesn’t even occur to you that being caught frequently in the company of your best friend might look like something until you’re staring at your own name in a headline on your phone screen, in line at Starbucks before your first panel of the con weekend. 

Y/N L/N’s Secret Relationship With Co-Star Jensen Ackles, howls the bold-printed headline, and you blink stupidly at the letters, uncomprehending, until you realize that someone’s trying to get your attention. “Sorry, what?”

The barista looks impatient, suppressing an eyeroll and starting her spiel before cutting off halfway with a squeak. “Oh, my god, you’re her! I’m sorry, I’m just… you’re literally my favorite!” She’s blushing and stuttering and has a near-death grip on the empty coffee cup she was preparing to write your name on. 

“Oh,” you reply, forcing the fog of confusion from your brain and slapping on a smile. “Hi, you caught me.”

“Can I...um…” the girl reaches into her back pocket and sheepishly produces her cell phone, complete with a flaming pentagram case. “Um, selfie?”

You smile indulgently, leaning over the counter. The fans are one of the best parts, really, and it’s never a hardship to make someone smile. (That is, when they’re not selling rumors and lies to the tabloids, you think grumpily.)

The barista girl pulls back with a wide smile and a full-face blush, and keeps glancing shyly up at you while she punches in your usual order, plus the second coffee Jensen texted you this morning to beg for. “So I guess Jensen’s around here too, then, right?” she asks perkily, taking your card. 

“Uh...sorry, what?”

She shrugs like it’s obvious. “Since you flew in together,”

You blink rapidly, feeling stupid. You’re obviously missing the punchline somewhere. “We, uh...didn’t. I mean...I flew out of L.A.,” you say cautiously. Your home city is already public knowledge, as is the fact that Jensen lives in Austin, and you can’t imagine she doesn’t know this. 

Her eyes pop wide with curiosity. “Wait, so you’re not staying with him?”

This conversation is too much for your poor, jetlagged, coffeeless brain. “No?” you try weakly, so far past confused at this point that you might actually be getting a headache. “Why would I…” 

Not that Jensen’s Austin house isn’t lovely, and not that you’d object to staying there, and not that you haven’t stayed there plenty of times before, but you’re pretty sure you’re still missing the point. 

The barista lunges forward over the counter, leaning in to ask in a hushed voice, “Did you guys break up?”

An emphatic “No!” leaves your mouth so loudly that the old man in line behind you starts grumbling. “No, you don’t--” 

“Get a move on,” Old Man grouches in the background. “I don’t care who you are,”

“Oh, good,” the girl cuts you off with a relieved grin. “You guys are so cute, you know? I mean, I kinda figured you had to have something going on, but actually seeing it--it’s going to be so much cuter if Dean and Sierra ever kiss now, oh my god--”

She devolves into a squeal, and the we’re not actually dating dies on your tongue. You have better things to do this morning than correct the misinformation of one teenage barista, so you end up just shaking your head and taking the two cups of coffee wearily. “Right, well, I’ve gotta go, so--” you duck around the old man and beeline for the door before anyone can say anything else. Oh, god, your publicist is so going to kill you. 

***

Jared and Jensen are both in the green room when you make it back to the convention hotel, and you groan softly as you walk into the room. Once Jared hears about your so-called relationship, you’re never going to hear the end of it. Then again, better he hear it from you than find it in the tabloids. May as well bite the bullet now before it comes up in a Q&A. 

“Hey,” you slide up to Jensen’s elbow, holding out the requested coffee cup as a preemptive truce. “So, we’re apparently dating now,” 

Jensen snorts, shaking his head and swapping the coffee cup into his other hand so he can wrap his arm around your shoulders in greeting. “Yeah, I saw that.”

“I think I may have given a barista the impression we’ve had a tumultuous breakup,” you say ruefully, tilting your head up to look at him in apology. “Sorry,”

Jensen’s green eyes are dancing, though, and he throws back his head and laughs, still keeping you tucked close enough that you can feel his whole body shake. “Of course you did, sweetheart,”

It’s pretty much the reaction you expected from Jensen, who’s so used to your antics at this point that he just gives you a fond smile and moves on to damage control. Jared, on the other hand, is...not commenting, and suspicion cuts short your quiet enjoyment of being hugged against Jensen. It took the boys a while to feel comfortable messing with you when you first got on set, but after they figured out you gave as good as you got, they’d never yet missed an opportunity to tease and prank you. 

You squint at Jared warily. “Why aren’t you reacting?”

Jared’s lips immediately start twitching, but he makes a valiant attempt at a mock-concerned face. “Oh shit, sorry. Here, tell me again and I’ll pretend like I’m surprised this time,”

Unwilling to bother unwinding yourself from under Jensen’s arm, you extend a childish foot in the direction of Jared’s shins, scowling at him. He dodges easily, laughing, and tosses out, “Someone should really tell Buzzfeed they’re reporting really old news,”

“Shut up and drink your damn coffee, Padalecki,” you shoot back without any real venom.

“Oh, you mean my hotel coffee? The coffee I got stuck with because you only buy Starbucks for Jensen?”

Jensen straightens up proudly, no doubt making a face at Jared over the top of your head. “Y/N just likes me better. That’s why she’s my best friend.”

You roll your eyes, ducking under Jensen’s arm and a few steps away. “You both suck,” you deadpan, resisting an internal wince at the friendzone. “Now shut up and let me drink my coffee, I have to be on stage in fifteen minutes,” 

And God, but your head is way too scrambled for a panel right now. Fifteen minutes is nowhere close to enough time to get your shit together, and you’re going to have to somehow walk out there and not let everyone know. 

You take a seat halfway across the room, watching Jared and Jensen still standing there, heads bowed together, arguing quietly about something. Jensen’s starting to wear an annoyed expression and he still manages to look beautiful and goddamnit this is how you got in trouble in the first place. 

You scroll listlessly through your phone, a headache beginning behind your eyes, and freeze when you realize that you left the damn article open. The headline photo is a picture of you and Jensen on a sidewalk in L.A., caught mid-conversation with Jensen’s hand on your back and a stupid, dopey look on your face while you stare up at him like he hung the moon. Fuck, you’re an idiot. 

A hasty scroll through the rest of the article reveals more of the same, and you could kick yourself for making your dumb crush so obvious. The photo captions are practically mocking you, labelled with things like “an intimate evening for Ackles and L/N” and, under a picture of the two of you at a beach, “We might be a little mad that the two most attractive people are together”. 

Well, at least now you know what every single question at your panel is going to be about. And somehow you have to figure out how to play this off like it’s nothing. Of course I don’t have a crush the size of a mid-sized whale on Jensen, hahaha, that’s such a hilarious idea! 

Your only saving grace is that clearly, Jensen doesn’t think anything of it. It’s nothing more than a brief joke to him and Jared, and as much as that should bring you relief, it still stings to know that he’s obviously never bothered to think of you that way. And why would he? For all Buzzfeed’s nonsense about you making an attractive couple, Jensen Ackles miles above your league. 

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by Misha sitting down next to you, an easy smile on his face as he nudges your shoulder with his own. “So, welcome to the club,”

Typically, you and Misha are pretty close friends, but your patience is too short this morning for any of his shit. “What club?” you shoot back grumpily. 

“People who the internet have declared in love with Jensen Ackles,” Misha returns, grinning like it’s obvious. 

“Ha, ha. See, except when that happens to you, people think it’s funny,”

“It is funny,”

“Not for me!” you explode, belatedly wincing at your harsh tone. “You and Jensen fuck around on stage and that works for you. If I don’t get my shit together in the next five minutes, I’m getting my name dragged through stupid tabloids and laughed straight off the show because I couldn’t keep my goddamn stupid pathetic crush under control!”

“Hey,” Misha waits until you meet his blue eyes. “That’s not going to happen. Okay? It’s not,”

“Misha--”

“Y/N,” Misha returns firmly. “It’s going to be okay. Jensen would never let anything happen to you. And you don’t have to answer anything you don’t want to.”

You sigh softly, nodding. Rationally, you know he’s right. But mostly, as much as you’re worked up about the panel, your fear is that Jensen is going to be the one laughing at you, and you don’t know how to explain that. “Yeah,” you say dully, just as a convention worker comes forward to collect you. 

“If it’s really going to shit, I’ll come distract everyone,”

“Somehow, I think that would be worse,” you shoot back over your shoulder as you start walking to the stage. Breathe, Y/N. You’re fine. 

You wait for the introductions to finish and take your place on the stage, a slightly breathy laugh escaping into the mic as you look out at the crowd. That is a lot of eyes watching your every move. And they’re on your side, you remind yourself. It’s the fans who’ve been tireless supporters of you and your character, this whole time. 

“Hey, guys,” you clear your throat. “What’s up?”

You chatter for a while about whatever you can think of, telling an edited version of the grumpy Starbucks man this morning and rambling a little about Jared’s latest on-set antics. All too quickly, though, you run out of things to say, leaving you with no choice but to ask for questions. 

At first, to your great relief, they’re pretty tame. You spend a solid few minutes breaking down Sierra’s latest character arc, and the time she’s spending hunting on her own. You do get a few questions about whether she and Dean could get together when she gets back with the brothers, but as long as it stays firmly in the realm of your characters, you’re not worried. 

“And what’s your name?” You ask gently, trying to reassure the nervous young woman at the microphone. 

“Uh, Y/N…”

“I love that name!” you wink at her, rearranging yourself in the chair to be more comfortable. “What do you want to know, Y/N?”

“Uh,” she stutters, her face blushing pink. “You’re my favorite actress, and, I, um,”

“That’s very sweet,” you interject, nodding to encourage her. 

“I just, uh, really want good things for you, and I just wanted to ask if, um, areyoureallydatingJensen?” she spits out all in one breath. “Cause you deserve him,”

You blink, shifting in your seat. You’d arrived at the elephant in the room. Damn. 

“Uh,” escapes your mouth as you frantically try to construct a diplomatic sentence. “No, actually, no, we’re not.” I wish. “The, um, the article was a surprise to us too!” You added a little shrug in as punctuation, trying to play it off. 

“But you guys look so cute together!” Other Y/N exclaims. “He looks at you like--” she cuts off, biting her lip so hard you can see the white from the stage. “Nevermind. Sorry.” 

“No worries,” you assure her casually, like you’re not dying to know what she was going to say. “Next question?”

The next one up is another young woman, this time much bolder in her question. “But if you were given the opportunity, would you date Jensen Ackles?” 

God, Chuck, literally anyone please kill me. “I don’t know how to answer this without getting in trouble,” you finally laugh nervously. “This is a dangerous question,”

The audience all laughs loudly, some of them throwing out comments and suggestions. “In the interests of not getting killed in my bed tonight,” you say lightly when they’ve quieted. “I’m going to skip that question,”

There’s really no saving you, though. After that first question, it’s like a dam has broken and everyone wants to know about your relationship with Jensen. What do you think of his house in Austin and does he cook for you and what do you do between takes and where’s your favorite place to go together. Someone even asks if you’re hooking up even if you’re not dating, which you’re positive turns your face completely purple before you get through redirecting that fan. 

An hour later, you stagger off the stage mentally exhausted and thoroughly grumpy. 

“Ouch,” Briana sympathizes, sliding up beside you as you grab a water bottle in the green room. 

“Can’t wait for my dumb red face to trend on Tumblr,” you mutter, wondering darkly if you could just jump out one of the windows. 

Briana laughs like she knows something you don’t, and rubs a hand over your back soothingly. “Come on, let’s get you out of your head before your photos,”

The two of you end up on a walk a few blocks from the convention hotel, fresh coffees in hand and Briana chattering away while you nod along. It’s not that you’re tuning her out, exactly, you’re just...overwhelmed. You do, however, notice when she stops talking. 

“Are you listening to me?” she looks at you sharply.

“Sorry, B,” you mumble. “Got distracted. What?”

Briana shakes her head with loving exasperation. “I asked what you’re wearing to karaoke tonight,”

“I’m probably not going to--” you start.

“Oh, no you don’t. You can’t leave me there alone,” Briana interrupts, folding her arms across her chest. 

“What do you mean, alone? Kim and Rich and literally everyone will be there,”

“You are not allowed to skip karaoke.” Briana says firmly, and you suddenly know how her daughter must feel when she’s misbehaved. “Besides, Jensen’s singing with Louden Swain beforehand. Don’t you want to see it?”

“Fine. But I’m wearing this,” you gesture to your plain black top and jeans. To be honest, you’re not sure if you actually do want to see Jensen perform, or bother with the rest of karaoke night. Mostly you just want to crawl into bed and put the covers over your head and pretend that you haven’t been making a fool of yourself all morning, but Briana is a force of nature when she wants something. 

She smiles excitedly at your acquiescence, pulling out her phone for a moment to type something before you start heading back. 

You nudge her teasingly with your elbow. “Your phone more exciting than me?”

Briana just slides it away hastily before you can read more than Jared’s name over her shoulder. “Just taking care of something.”

There’s something she’s not telling you, but you don’t feel like digging right now. You’re just focusing on getting to the end of this convention without spilling all your secrets and looking like an idiot. 

By the time you’re sitting down in the seats for Louden Swain’s set, your face is indeed all over Tumblr. (You always deny having the stupid app, but sometimes a girl’s gotta know what people are saying about her and her hot costars.) There’s comments full of stupid speculation that you’re hiding your relationship, including a whole thread about how you’re clearly hiding your secret threesome with Jensen and Misha. Great. 

“Uh, okay,” a familiar voice snaps you out of your thoughts. Jensen’s on stage in front of the microphone, holding his guitar. “This was not part of my original plan, so...if this goes badly, it’s all Jared and Briana’s fault.”

The crowd laughs good-naturedly as your gaze snaps immediately to Briana. Infuriatingly, your friend just shrugs. 

“This is a cover of a song neither of us wrote,” Jensen continues, gesturing between himself and Louden Swain behind him. “But I thought it could be fitting,”

He’s nervous, you realize, watching the way he’s fiddling with his guitar strap while he talks. But you have no idea what he’s doing. And you have no idea why he didn’t tell you. The two of you always know what stupid thing the other person is planning, especially stunts in front of the fans. But clearly not this time. With a sinking sense of dread, you wonder if maybe he does hate you a little bit after today, and that article. Maybe that’s why he’s not talking to you. You swallow hard against the sting in your throat, and Jensen starts playing. 

The opening chords are definitely from a country song you vaguely recognize from the radio, and you wonder why this is Jensen’s choice over one of his own songs. 

“Girl, you know I've known you forever / How many nights we hung out together,”

Across the room, Briana has an enormous smile on her face.

“My boys are laughing and tap me on the shoulder / Making a motion like, ‘Could y'all get any closer?’” He punctuates the words with a little scowl in Jared’s direction. 

“There's a rumor going 'round about me and you / Stirring up our little town the last week or two / So tell me why we even trying to deny this feeling / I feel it, don't you feel it too? / There's a rumor going 'round, and 'round, and 'round / What d'you say we make it true?”

There are a lot of people suddenly making noise around you as they come to the same realization that you are, but you’re frozen in your seat. The rumor is you. He’s talking about you. Jensen’s singing for you. And you should be elated but your mind is stuck on a loop of what the fuck there’s no way this is real. 

You don’t even realize that the song is over until everyone is clapping and you’re still stuck staring with embarrassingly wide eyes, Jensen up on stage with an embarrassed dusting of red across his face and a slowly deflating expression. 

“Hey,” Jared’s elbow digs hard into your ribs suddenly. “Please do something. I can’t take any more of him like this,”

“What--oh--shit!” spills out of your mouth as you stand hastily, your phone tumbling off your lap. “I’m just gonna--”

By some miracle, you make it through the crush of people and around to the backstage area, your heart racing unevenly in your chest. You have no idea what you’re supposed to say, or if Jensen will be there, or if you’re even interpreting this right. Maybe it’s all just wishful thinking. No, Jared wouldn’t have encouraged you if that were true. Would he?

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you end up plowing straight into Jensen’s chest, his arm sliding automatically around your waist as you wobble off balance. “Shit, I’m sorry!”

He steadies you, green eyes searching your face with a flicker of vulnerability. “Hey,”

“Hey,” you whisper back. You have no idea what happens now.

With his free hand, Jensen rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Look, if that was too much--”

“No!” you shake your head quickly. “I’m sorry, I was just...processing. I...it was really sweet, Jen,”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirm. “I just… me? Are you sure?”

“Why not you?” Jensen’s face wrinkles in confusion. He moves both hands to your waist, the warmth of his skin bleeding through your thin shirt as he tugs you closer. “Y/N,” 

There’s something in you screaming that you might not get to do this again, that he’s going to come to his senses, that the whole thing is a dream, and before you can second guess yourself you launch yourself up onto your tiptoes and kiss him. 

Your arms go around his neck while Jensen wraps you up tighter against his chest and it’s not fireworks, or earth shattering, or anything so dramatic. His mouth moving against yours just feels like home and love and of course. Of course you were going to get here, of course it was going to be like this. 

Jensen lifts you off your feet for a moment before breaking the kiss, and he looks just breathless and flushed enough that you’re equal parts proud and turned on. 

“Of course it’s you,” he murmurs, one hand under your chin to tilt your head up to him. “Of course I love you. You’re my best friend.”

------

Something ate my taglist! If you want to be tagged, please message me!

[fumingspice]

guardians

original work! im bored to death and i have nothing much to do so i guess maybe i could post this and see if people like it or not. mallorie whyte is sarah paulson 🤜👱🏻‍♀️

01 | oakwood academy

october 24th 2022

eli, ma. andromadex

-Madison

THE FINAL WORDS that Madison's stepmother Inez had jokingly yelled out the car window at her before she sped off to work were fairly sticking with her all throughout the day. She had driven at neck-breaking speed as she often had a habit of doing, and then braked so hard that she probably would have given any other passenger in the car a pretty bad whiplash, which Madison was convinced that Inez is immune to it by now, and then rolled down her window and told her; "y’know, if you want to actually make some friends you should really quit acting so bitchy."

Mind you, this was after she had gone on at her for days on end about being herself.

Madison was not opposed to making friends at this school. She wanted to. It's just so difficult when the fantastic, gold-crested reputation of your parents follows you around everywhere you go, and it's even worse when everyone else in your school completely matches that reputation.

To her, there's nothing worse than extra-cred class. She could promise you that. Especially when there are only fifteen more minutes left of the school day until the school bell rang sweet salvation and the students were released from the clutches school for another day. The classroom was decorated in crisp oranges, reds, yellows and browns; and the smothering scent of the ten-plus pumpkin spice candles could probably be smelt from miles away.

Madison's teacher, Ms. DuBois, was from Salem, and she loved nothing more than talking about witches in Salem. DuBois continued to rattle on about the executions that took place during the Salem Witch Trials of 1692- and since they were in Eli and not Salem, Madison could not fathom a single plausible reason as to why her extra-cred class had decided to adopt the Salem Witch Trials.

Oakwood Academy, Madison's new school, had managed to work its way to having one of the top academic records in America by providing an extra area of study for every year that a student attended. It was just one of the classes that would act as a "relaxer" for the workload that the Academy dumped on their students. They allocated five sets of twenty-five students to five different classes. For example; her older brother was allocated into a class that studied some of history's most famous serial criminals. The girl had been hit with a low-key pang of jealousy when she looked at his workbook, but she would never admit that.

Serial killer documentaries from Buzzfeed Unsolved was for her what World War II was to her brother Tiano.

Halfway through the class, Madison decided that Ms DuBois' babbles were nothing more than folklore and legends. There is no possible way that witches could exist, and even if they did; they would have become so sparsely spread out throughout the centuries that bloodlines would have become diluted into non-existence.

Madison had finally just about given up listening, getting ready to switch to her earphones when DuBois began talking about Gwendoline Proctor and Marie-Anne Dufosett. Judging by the amount of borderline useless word scrambles and pop quizzes that she had been bombarded with since August in which their names had popped up in, this would no doubt be just as bleak as the rest of the topic.

"Marie-Anne Dufosett was burned at the stake along with her mother and some other accused women-"

Well, that's just peachy.

"-However, does anybody know who accused Mademoiselle Dufosett of Witchcraft and Conspiring with the Devil?"

A few hands shot up. Oh, great, Madison thought, another room full of Hocus Pocus lovers.

DuBois picked on a boy at the back of the room wearing a black turtleneck underneath his blazer. "Perrone Goguillon," he answered.

Well, at least I know that instead of how to pay taxes.

Ms DuBois clapped her hands together and was about to praise him when Madison poked her head up and blurted out, "who in fresh hell is Peregrine Goujon?" The class burst into a peal of abrupt laughter and her face flashed a red that was possibly close to her burgundy uniform.

DuBois waited patiently for the laughter to die down, giving Madison a well-intended smile. She'd been trying to pry Madison out of her shell for weeks. "Miss Delvaux, I'm so happy that we've finally been graced with your conscious presence," she said. "Perrone Goguillon was one of the last witches to burnt at the stake in France."

What has that got to do with Salem?

There was a pause.

Turtleneck Boy piped up yet again. "Wasn't Perrone Marie-Anne's mother?"

Ms DuBois nodded, what followed probably should have been a moment for shock factor was cut short by Madison's unimpressive comment of; "Sounds like someone gained some serious mommy-issues."

Apart from a few smirks and sniggers, the room stayed in a star awkward silence. It was that moment when Madison had realised that making fun of witches in this classroom was possibly as close as you could get to treason.

The bell finally rang out before Madison could embarrass herself any further. She pulled on her coat and started speed-walking to get out of the school. She found listening to Toxic by Britney Speers always made her faster.

The crisp Massachusetts air stung at her cheeks hard, nipping at them until they were a hard red. The leaves crunched with a prominent sound and the wind blew quite fiercely. She hated fall- she missed the sweet Florida summer and sunshine that she had become so accustomed to. She missed splashing about in their swimming pool with her friends, sitting on her boyfriend's shoulders and having matches of pool basketball. They could get very competitive and Madison was certainly no stranger to having her head pushed underwater for the sake of one of her friends scoring a goal.

Her family had just moved to Massachusetts for her stepmother's work, as they often had moved around for that reason numerous times in the past. Inez worked with companies that were hanging on the edge of bankruptcy. A quick call to her office and she would work on the case as soon as possible. Most cases she could work on from home or online, but every few years a huge opportunity or promotion would come up that would require a move. It was always worth it. Inez was a wizard with a logbook and her incredible finances knowledge; she would advise the company and work with as many people as possible to save the company and boost its profits massively. 

The job also came with a pretty hefty paycheck. Inez had been in Madison's life for as long as the girl could recall memory.

Now that the latest- and hopefully final- addition to the Delvaux family had come, Madison's father spent most of his time at home taking care of baby Thomas. In contrast to Inez, Madison's father came from a long line of "old" money; decades ago, his family was incredibly wealthy Franco-Belgian gold merchants, owning around 40% of the most flourishing gold mines in Belgium and France of which together bestowed them with a huge amount of the finest Belgian gold. Although the number of which lowered to about 750 tons of gold, the family net worth was still well into the billions.

Madison's father broke away from the complete gold-mine owning tradition and earned a job as a professor of physics in certain prestigious colleges across the country, although, there were still plenty of goldmines still to his name.

However, despite their needless fortune, most of the family, along with Inez, managed to stay incorrupt, helping to build many schools, hospitals and jobs in developing countries and donating thousands of millions of dollars to charities, side-lining with the Delvaux-Proveux Foundation to help create a better society with whatever difference they could cause.

Her parents did their best to remain humble- which sometimes proved itself difficult when the next five generations of their family could probably eat from solid gold plates if they chose to.

Needless to say, they spent only what they needed to, didn't exploit their riches, lived in the slightly more luxurious suburban homes. Madison was sent to Oakwood Academy; possibly the most unnecessarily expensive school in the north-east of America along with her adopted older brother Tiano and her adopted little sister Safina; the second youngest, Aleja went to an elementary not far from their home, and baby Thomas just did his best not to poop his pants straight after his diaper had been changed. Madison was convinced he did his best to poop at the worst possible time.

The house they had recently moved into was a beautiful country mansion, overlooking a lake and meadows, the balcony that showed a complete view of the landscape was perhaps Madison's favourite part of the house- apart from her bed of course.

She walked briskly up the pathway leading to the front door, doing her best to not show that she was absolutely freezing to death despite the massive coat. No sooner had she got in the door that she turned the heater on full blast and ran upstairs, diving into her bed.

Inconveniently, she was now too warm.

Madison rolled her eyes and then rolled out of bed with a slight thud, ran downstairs, lowered the heating, then ran back upstairs again- now at a slightly more satisfactory temperature. Her phone began to buzz; an incoming facetime from her friends back in Florida.

Madison jumped up promptly, fixing her hair and trying to make it look like she wasn't considering an attempt at home-made abseiling down the wall beneath her window. She accepted the call and lo and behold the screams and squeals of five of her best friends burst from the phone from on the other side of the country. Meghan, the girl in front and centre, called out Madison's name with an ear-piercing screech.

"Woah, Woah. Calm down, Meghan I'm not hoping to go deaf anytime soon," she muttered, pretending to be annoyed, making a particular fuss of changing the settings on her hearing aid. Meghan playfully rolled her eyes and began talking over the other girls. 

"Oh, shut up, Maddie. How's Massachusetts? Find any cute warlocks that we need to come out and see?" She asked. 

"Meghan, this place is amazing and beautiful- there's so many other things here than witches and warlocks and Harvard's array of nerds," she said, pretending she didn't want to hop on her tricycle and go home. 

To be truthful, it was obvious that Meghan could see straight through the blatant lie. 

"Well, if you say so, babes. Give us a tour of your house! We need to see chez Madison after stalking it for an hour on Google Maps."

Madison gave a hearty chuckle. "Well, if you insist."

Madison began her own rendition of a virtual tour around her house, showing everything from the luxury bathrooms to the heated pool in the basement. The ooooooo's and ahhhhhhhhh's were constant. The house was beautiful- that was undeniable. However, the crowning glory of the house was a massive stain-glass window depicting a woman by the lake.

"The realtors said that the builder of the house had it built in 1876 to memorialize the women persecuted and killed during the witch trials," Madison said, admiring the beautiful display of colours on the floor from the sun shining through the window. 

"That's cheery." 

That's typical Meghan.

"Now, more important than your sexy house; are you or are you not coming to prom?" Meghan asked, expectantly.

Madison shrugged, "I'm not sure, we only just got here, and I don't think my parents would want me flying across the country all by myself."

Meghan let out a slightly satisfied sigh. "So, does that mean Dylan is now free for me to take as my date?"

Madison gritted her teeth hard. Only forever has Meghan been trying to steal Dylan away from her. "Sure, as long as it's just as friends," she answered, fully emphasizing the word "friends".

Meghan laughed emptily. "Well, how else would I be taking him? Trust me, Maddie baby, if I wanted Dylan so bad, I would've gotten him months ago." There was a coy smile and awkward glances shared by the others.

Madison bit her tongue.

"Yeah?" She called out into the empty house. "Coming now, Nez!" She looked back at the screen, told them, "talk later, gals, Nez wants me to help her in the basement," and hung up without waiting for a response, already knowing that Meghan would be commenting on how strange she was acting.

Madison and Meghan had been stuck to each other's waist since pre-school, grew up in close neighborhoods, and had practically been raised together. One time, Madison's family took Meghan to Disney Land, then straight to Universal Studios after. To say they were spoiled rotten in childhood because of the Delvaux family wealth was an understatement. It was only now approaching adult years was Meghan taking full advantage of her best friend's wealth- hinting off about getting her into Yale or Harvard, Madison smiled and nodded when she brought these things up, knowing full well Meghan didn't hold enough brain cells to even use a dishwasher.

The jangle of keys and the opening of the door sounded from downstairs. "The party's home! Maddie honey, you here?" Inez called, audibly struggling with grocery bags. "Coming!" she called back, skipping down the stairs two steps at a time. Inez relieved herself of one of the six bags she had carried from the car. 

"When are you going to learn to walk down the stairs without the risk of breaking your damn neck?" she asked, walking to the kitchen and setting half of the bags on the counter, and doing the same with Maddie's bags. Madison laughed and shook her head, "when we confirm that the birds don't work for the bourgeoisie." 

Inez rolled her eyes and pulled Madison into a hug. "Well, in that case, I may as well buy a neck brace and put the hospital on speed dial."

Madison gave a real laugh this time and pulled away, throwing a damp washcloth at Inez's face. "Megan facetimed me earlier with Linda, Karlie, Houston, Seoul and London.

Inez pulled a face, "yeah, and how did that turn out?" Madison sighed, "she asked me if she could take Dylan to prom."

Her stepmom stopped unpacking and lurched into deep thought. "Why are all your friends named after cities?" Madison was about to continue when she stopped to think about the question. 

"Back to the topic, Nez."

Inez’s eyes widened in shock. "She did not, did she?" Madison nodded carefully, bracing herself for Inez launching into a huge monologue, as she often did when something morally wrong happened. "After everything that we've done for that girl- everything that you've done for that girl, this is how she repays you?" Inez barely stopped to breathe. "She has known about our plans to move here since last Summer! The sneaky little bug kept this behind your back and knew it would be safe to tell you that she was going to steal Dylan from you as soon as you were a safe distance away-"

Madison promptly stopped her, knowing this could and would go on all night. "I'm not as bothered as I should be, Nez. Dylan and I were drifting even before the move. I think this is just my final sign that we just aren't meant to be- God, I always knew nothing serious would become of Dylan and me," she admitted, sipping on a diet coke that Inez had just slid down the countertop. Her stepmother pursed her lips, her incredible dark brown eyes glazing over as they always did when she fell deep into thought, as Madison often admired them doing so when she was trying to find a solution to a particularly difficult business situation, then, within seconds, bounced back out of it once again.

Inez presented an envelope to Madison, addressed to her. "Well, this might bring your spirits up at least," she placed in front of Madison. "I just know it is what it is."

Madison's jaw dropped as she read the letter.

Months ago, while they still lived in Florida, Madison's tutor convinced her to take part in a writing competition. The competition was hosted by one of New York's most prestigious publication companies, namely by their founder; Mallorie Whyte, possibly one of the most sought after and revered journalists in the Western Hemisphere. Madison completely worshipped the woman. Whyte being a first generation French American was the main factor in inspiring Madison to learn the language; not for the benefit of her Senegalese brother.

But he did not need to know that.

Inez spoke again, mainly just to make sure that Madison hadn't become paralyzed from shock. "Is she telling you to buy a damn dictionary or was your spelling fine?” Inez teased. There was no response, but Madison was finished reading, and Inez became heart-scared that she would lick the page.

Madison was dumbfounded for a few more seconds. "I got first place in the contest. She wants me to come to New York and meet her! Bloody hell, she thinks I could help her out with new ideas?" Maddie took another break before screaming the house down. "The Mallorie Whyte wants me because she thinks I could help her-"

She completely froze up in shock, her frightened stepmother running behind her in case she fell backwards. "Three weeks?!" Madison screeched, loud enough to wake up the dead. Inez almost jumped from her skin, laughing when she recovered.

"Three weeks, Maddie! We have plenty of time," she attempted to reason, even though trying to calm Madison down when she was as excited as this was next to impossible.

Madison looked highly offended. "Three weeks? Do you see the state of this house? It needs to be perfect!"

The house was next to gleaming spotless.

Inez rolled her eyes and tugged Madison's belt loop as she was about to run into the hall. In her lifetime, she had met many people that she could consider crazy, but no one came as close to her stepdaughter when she was fangirling over Mallorie Whyte. "Yes, honey that's all well and good," Inez said, attempting to calm down the lunatic in front of her, "but in the meantime, I want you to tidy your bedroom, do your homework and do some studying."

Madison nodded obediently, grabbed her Cola, and ran upstairs, careful not to spill anything on the grey carpet. The fragrance of her apple blossom burning in an incense bowl wafted around the room, and her speaker was set to play music from her playlist when it detected motion in the room. The past few moments of excitement had wiped what had happened before the letter out of her mind.

Dylan.

Meghan had practically taken Dylan away from her- not that she cared, not now anyway. Mallorie freakin' Whyte had sent her a handwritten letter for Christ's sake, she wasn't going to be moping over a boy that her supposed best friend has had her eyes on for months. She had known since before announcing the move that the boy was falling under Meghan's spell, she had seen it; the messages, the winks and the giggles, the almost-too-close kiss under the stairway. She was never ignorant to the fact that there was something between Dylan and Meghan going on behind her back- they were both horrible liars and barely tried to cover it up- she just did her best to pretend nothing had happened.

It's not as if she wasn't the jealous type- she used to be- Dylan had been around most of her friendship group while she was crushing on him. She had just grown an indifference to seeing him flirt with other girls. She had grown used to it.

The notification of her computer sounded, distracting herself from her slightly depressing thoughts. It was an email notification, from Mallorie Whyte herself. Madison almost fainted at the sight of it. Not only had she just received a written letter, but she had also taken time to contact online. Madison caught her breath at the possibility of having a conversation with this woman three weeks before they met, she opened the email, scanning every word;

Madison,

I apologize for reaching out to you in such an informal manner, but I just couldn't wait to get into correspondence with you sooner! Your entry into our contest here at Whyte’s Journalism and Publications utterly rocked my soul at the core, your work blooms amazingly at your young age.

The reason I picked your entry was that after many hours of reading and re-reading hundreds of thousands of entries, I realized that yours spoke to me in a way that no other one did. The beauty of your language and knowledge of how our world and society works touched me in a way no other did- heart-breaking, yet somehow warming, in the same way, to know that there are still people in this world who still have a love for life.

I noted in your information folder that Halloween was your least favourite holiday- a complete juxtaposition of my own opinion. Samhain is the best time of year- and I am excited to spend this glorious time of year with you and your family starting next weekend, as I've just finished sorting arrangements with Ms. Inez.

Best regards and wishes, and excitement to meet you,

Mallorie Whyte.

Inez smiled to herself from downstairs, setting her drink down and running up the stairs having heard the rather obvious sound of Madison's delighted squeal and subsequent crash on the floor.

[mikecardenmpreg]

my life has been one big drawn out joke recently. here are some topics i will be covering in my budding career as a stand up comedian:

1. my manager’s poorly disguised cocaine addiction and every other fucking thing about him. could go on for ages about this man.

2. the old man who complained about everything from the clothing section to the price of a ps4 controller to the lack of public restrooms (disregarding the multiple signs around the store saying there are no public restrooms). he later complained about again not being able to use the restroom despite being a paying customer. he proceeded to dig in our trash can, pull out my coworker’s used coffee cup, dump the remaining liquid back into the trash can, look me dead in the eyes, and, in an attempt to guilt me a third time into letting him use our restroom, told me he had to pee in this coffee cup because, despite him being a paying customer, i wouldn’t let him use our restroom. i told him okay and walked away.

3. dressing up as velma for halloween was cute and fun and i got to find out which of my regulars wish to know me carnally, but just as velma. one of these guys told me quietly that he always thought velma was the sexy one. he was rather embarrassed to tell me this, hinting at his deep shame. the other? well he came in the next day and asked me, rather demandingly, where the wig was. told me i should get that haircut, or at least wear the wig more often. that his daughter had that haircut. [insert nervous laughter]. mike, andrew, please, you’re making me blush.

3a. on that note, let’s talk about john, who thought, first of all, that he was even in my league. absolutely not. secondly, this 49 year old man thought - no, assumed - we were near the same age. i’m 27 and rather babyfaced but in this time of covid, faces are a hard thing to come by. i’m assuming he assumed i was 50-ish because of the dark circles around my eyes, as all he could see of me was my eyes due to the mask and baseball cap i was wearing that night. he was going to ask me to dinner, but when i told him my age, realized i was “probably” too young for him. this caused me to have an existential crisis, by the way, and now i’m obsessed with under-eye masks and creams. next time he came in, he inquired about my age again. “oh, that’s the same age as my daughter”. so now that’s two customers who want me to stand in as their sexy daughter. that’s fun for me! the third time he came in, i hid out in the back and he asked my coworkers about me. coworker one told him i didn’t have a name. coworker two told him she couldn’t give out employee information. the fourth time he came in was the same night i was worried we were going to get murdered by a (different) regular who had lost his mind, and upon seeing john in my store again, hopefully looking around for me, i was hoping that other guy would come and shoot me down. rather be dead than accused of looking like i was 50 again.

4. recently deciding to treat myself by consuming 20mg of thc and watching buzzfeed unsolved in a paralyzed state for 4 hours. i cried about how sad and lonely ghosts must be. 

5. the little girls who were so convinced i was a legitimate witch and had full on meltdowns in the store, forcing their parents to stop shopping and leave, because their little girls were inconsolable in the presence of me, a 27 year old in some black velvet pants. again. the dark circles.

6. learning, on four different occasions, that i definitely look/dress/act like i sell dildos, butt plugs, nipple clamps, and other sexual adult paraphernalia. a lot to unpack here. literally left me speechless when my coworker told me this. i couldn’t even respond to his “i’ve been to lots of sex shops and you look like every girl who works there” comment. i should have been able to. such low hanging fruit. but i just sat there with my mouth open, trying to figure out exactly what about me gives off that vibe.

6a. realizing i tell people i work at a toy store means one thing to me and another to everyone else, apparently.

7. "third base is you telling me about your girlfriend” and all other bro-ista related shenanigans.

8. rapid-fire bit about various miscellaneous customers:

8a. the guy who decided it was appropriate to have an entire conversation about my incredibly average belt. dude. bro. i know my pussy is popping. don’t look at my crotch while you’re talking to me about my crotch.

8b. a very stable man pretending to hold up the store with a nerf gun and then singing grandson’s “oh no” to me while making uncomfortable eye contact (still cradling the nerf gun of course)

8c. the cop-hating neo-nazi who rescued a yorkshire terrier which he now carries around in a little pink dress. he didn’t know what a yorkshire terrier was. apparently doesn’t know what cops and/or nazis are. we call him meth-head gun kelly because he looks like machine gun kelly on an intense downward spiral. also his last name is kelly. i don’t know the joke wrote itself.

8d. the teenage boy who stuck his whole hand up his girlfriend’s coochie in the middle of the store, got a real big teenaged boner about it, and shopped around like this was normal and okay.

8e. the stupid dumb idiot regular to called in a bogus mass shooting threat without blocking his number and caused me to have a drawn out anxiety attack for at least 6 hours only to come in the very next night and act like nothing happened.

9. having arthritis in my back at age TWENTY-SEVEN FOR FUCKS SAKE MAN

10. “oh my asshole!” “if i have to see someone’s toes they better be immaculate. i better be able to suck on those toes” “people fuck dead bodies in this game” and every other asinine thing my coworker says to me on a regular basis.

11. and of course, my dad just straight up losing his god damn mind. hiding quarters in trees just to see if anyone notices. hunting snails late at night. choosing to spend upwards of $30,000 on home repairs because he’s going stir crazy. just. every single thing about my dad.

[dvp95]

quiet on widow’s peak (12)

pairing: dan howell/phil lester, pj liguori/sophie newton/chris kendall rating: teen & up tags: paranormal investigator, mystery, online friendship, slow burn, strangers to lovers, nonbinary character, trans character, background poly, phil does some buzzfeed unsolved shit and dan is a fan word count: 3.2k (this chapter), 38.7k (total) summary: Phil’s got a list of paranormal experiences a mile long that he likes to share with the world. Abandoned buildings, cemeteries, and ghost stories have always called his name, and a particular fan of his has a really, really good ghost story.

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

"You really don't know how to use chopsticks at all, huh?"

Phil ignores Dan's quiet, amused voice to keep attempting capture of the elusive sashimi. Eventually, he gives up and picks it up with his fingers. He pops it in his mouth and looks at Dan, despite all his common sense telling him it's a bad idea.

It's definitely a bad idea. The lighting is lower than in the coffee shop, tinged warm by the candles around the place - thankfully, none of them are on the table where Phil might accidentally elbow one and set the place ablaze - and Dan is sitting right across from him with shiny, smiling lips and dark, sparkling eyes. Phil reminds himself that this is not a date, that he wouldn't ask Dan on a date. Because Phil dates guys.

Well, not so much of the dating anyone at all thing as of late, but the point stands. Phil likes men and he likes everything that's classically attached to men, and he's not really interested in examining his sexuality in further detail at this point in his life. Still. Here Dan is, giggling at his attempts to wrangle sushi and asking about the footage corruption like it genuinely matters to them. Their feet keep knocking into Phil's own, because the table is small and both of them have Slenderman leg proportions. It also keeps happening because Dan seems to have a very hard time sitting still.

Their foot taps along to a beat that doesn't match the soft music over the speakers and their hands gesticulate with every question they ask, every story they tell. It's like they have a day's worth of energy that they've been building up while sitting in a lecture and making Phil a bunch of hot drinks.

"My family aren't big on going out to eat," Phil says, wondering how many times Dan's foot needs to bump his own before he can make a joke about playing footsie. "You're lucky I know how to use a fork and knife."

Dan giggles again. Phil loves the sound of that so much more than he thinks he should be allowed to.

"Lucky me," Dan teases, reaching for Phil's ginger with their own deft chopsticks. Phil considers batting them away, maybe engaging in a chopstick swordfight, but then he remembers that they're in public. "I guess my family didn't go out to eat much either, but that was more about the lack of money than anything else."

For a moment, Phil doesn't know how to respond to that. He's never quite known how to react when people drop things like that in casual conversation. Dan doesn't seem to notice his hesitation, because they're too busy stealing some of Phil's edamame.

"My mum just thought nobody could cook as well as she did," Phil jokes, pulling his edamame closer to him protectively. "At least, that's what she told us. I think she just couldn't be bothered wrangling us."

"You've got siblings?" Dan asks. They sound genuinely interested in the answer.

It's not a date, Phil reminds himself. They're friends, and Dan just wants to get to know him better.

"I've got an older brother," says Phil. "So it was just the two of us, but I've often been told we were frustrating enough for ten."

Dan laughs. "I can imagine. I mean, I don't know your brother, but I bet you started poking your head where it didn't belong a long time before you started getting paid for it." Their foot nudges Phil's again, but this time it seems like it's on purpose. "Bet you were a handful - I know I was. My brother was easy, I think. I was there for most of it, I guess, and he never caused nearly as much trouble as I did, but I think we were head to head in the annoying race."

"I have been informed that I could be a bit of a handful."

"Shocker."

Phil gives in to the urge of doing something silly and tosses an edamame bean at Dan's face. There's no staff looking at them that he can see, and it makes a lovely peal of laughter burst from Dan, so he considers it a win all around.

"Does your family live around here?" Phil asks. Dan's accent clearly isn't local, but their family could have moved at any point.

Something twists in Dan's expression, too quickly for Phil to name it. They settle their chin in one of their open palms, resting both elbows on the table in a way that would have Phil's mum batting at them. "No," they say, strangely slow about it. They seem to be deciding how much they want to say, because they end up shrugging and gesturing around vaguely with their free hand. "Adrian's with our uncle in Austria. No idea where exactly either of my parents are right now, but thank almighty fuck they're not somewhere together."

"Oh," Phil says. He doesn't really know what else to say. This is way out of his depth, not something he's had a lot of practice with talking about. It doesn't seem like it's particularly bothering Dan to talk about it, it's just that Phil has no idea how he's supposed to carry on a conversation with something like 'I'm glad my parents aren't together and I don't know where they live'.

Dan smiles rather kindly, like they know exactly what Phil is thinking and they don't blame him for it. Of course, Phil could be projecting wildly.

"It's okay," they say. Phil doesn't know them well enough to be able to tell when they're lying for sure, but they seem sincere enough. "I've been living on my own for a few years and don't keep up with them much. I go south to see my nana sometimes."

"That's good," Phil says blankly, chasing another piece of sashimi for something else to focus on. The last thing he wants to do is say the wrong thing and make Dan feel uncomfortable being around him.

"Do you get to see your family a lot?" Dan asks.

The question is a normal one, and his family is a topic that Phil usually jumps to discuss, but things are rocky enough emotionally for him right now that he can't even muster up the regular amount of enthusiasm. He shrugs. "I talk to them a couple times a week and see them every few months or so? Martyn lives in London, so I get to see him more often, but he's also like... much busier than I am. Mostly I just stay home with Peej and Sophie and Chris."

"I really like them," Dan informs him. It's more of an announcement than a casual observation, like they think it's important for Phil to know what they think of his friends.

It is. That's very important to Phil.

If this were a date - which it isn't - then Phil would probably crack some jokes about how much less fun they are when he's trying to have a lie-in or make a point of reminding Dan that Chris is flirtatious but harmless.

"I like them, too," he says instead. "They're all so weirdly nice to me that I think they're plotting my death, sometimes."

"I mean, that would get a lot of views," says Dan.

Phil laughs. "I can imagine it now. The mysterious life and death of Philip M. Lester... except my life isn't exactly mysterious, and PJ would not be good at lying to the police."

"You're a little mysterious," Dan says, pouring them both some more tea. They smile when Phil thanks them, their dimple in stark contrast in the lighting. "Not like you're skulking around in the night or whatever - but, listen, you do also do that. I just mean that it's... hard to tell what you're thinking."

"Good," Phil says lightly.

Luckily, Dan laughs like it's a joke. They don't need to be introduced to the exact height of Phil's emotional walls so early in the friendship.

"For example," Dan continues like they haven't been interrupted, "I've noticed that you keep staring at my mug, and I can't tell if it's because you're an insanely jealous Pokémon nerd or if you're trying to figure out what weird animals they are."

Talking about Pokémon is way easier than talking about family or friends or his own shortcomings as a human, so Phil jumps on the topic like he's been handed a life jacket. Dan has a surprisingly deep well of opinions about the games, and Phil starts to really enjoy himself while needling Dan with his own thoughts. Sometimes he pretends like he disagrees completely just to see the way Dan gets passionate, gesturing and getting louder and Googling facts to back their arguments up.

They've got a lot of other media in common, too, and Phil keeps waiting for Dan to not have an opinion on something. It hasn't happened yet. Even with things they haven't watched or read yet, they chatter on about reviews they've seen or theories they've been hearing. The singular time that Phil asks about a film they've never even heard of, Dan grins wide and asks him to tell them about it.

By the time their dinner and dessert and tea are all gone and the staff are starting to give them looks, Phil feels like he's never connected this quickly and easily with someone in his whole life. That's a dangerous thought, but it's also a nice one.

This isn't a date, because this can't be a date, because Dan isn't a guy and Phil only dates guys. Even so, when Phil pays the bill and follows Dan out to the pavement, he feels the bubbling nervousness that he associates with the endings of first dates. Dan walks him to his bus stop, rambling about how Phil must be watching The Walking Dead wrong if he really thinks it's boring. Their cheeks are rosy with the chilly air and the tips of their ears are bright pink. They are ridiculously, unbelievably cute. Phil wishes he could stop noticing details like that, things that are going to make it even harder for him to put that platonic distance between them.

Dan sways into his space a bit when they stop at the empty bus stop, but Phil can't tell if it's on purpose or if Dan is just wiggling around like they usually are.

"This was fun," they say, wrapping up their rant with zero segue.

"I think so," Phil agrees with a little smile. He checks the bus schedule on his phone for probably the fourteenth time today, anxious about missing it or getting on the wrong one or something and having to call his parents with a favour to ask. "And, hey, I'm in town again tomorrow if you want me haunting your place of work again."

Dan grins wide, the streetlights' warmth catching in their eyes and teeth in a mesmerizing sort of way. "I'm not working tomorrow," they say. "But I'd be happy to hang out after my lecture. What are you doing in town?"

"Oh," Phil says, then pauses. He remembers the fierceness in Dan's voice when they told him not to go back to the house by himself. Still, it's not like there's anything they can do to make him stay out of there. "I'm going back to the Wilkins place with my dad's old video camera. It's old, still uses tape, so I'm thinking corruption might not work on it."

"You're going back there by yourself?"

"Yeah, I'm going back," says Phil. He raises his eyebrows, daring Dan to keep arguing.

Dan is good at arguing, but once Phil has made his mind up about something, it's going to take a lot more than a persuasive pretty person telling him what to do to make him change it. Normally it would be annoying for someone to even try, but as confident as Phil is in his own ability to out-stubborn anyone on the topic of his own work, there's a part of him that thinks it's kind of sweet for Dan to worry so much. Ugh. He's got it bad.

It seems like some of his resolve is obvious in his expression or the set of his shoulders or whatever, because Dan just sighs loudly.

"Fine," they say. "I've got a Polaroid, I'll bring that too."

That hadn't been a tactic that Phil was anticipating. He's wrong-footed for a long moment or two as he waits for Dan to say they're kidding. "Uh," he says slowly. "You're not coming."

"Like fuck I'm not." Dan's stubborn face looks a lot like a frustrated, pouting toddler, but Phil still feels some of the effect. "You aren't going back there alone, I told you. I'm not letting you. And, sure, I don't know all the tricks of the trade or what the fuck ever, but you need someone to watch your back and make sure you don't stumble into more trouble. I'm your guy."

"You're not a guy," Phil says, because he doesn't really know what else to say.

That breaks Dan's seriousness, and they giggle into their large hand. Phil is already trying to apologise, but Dan waves him off like he's being ridiculous. "First of all," they say, "it's a figure of speech. And second of all, I'm not not a guy."

Phil can't think about that right now. His bus is visible a couple streets away and the last thing he needs is more confusion about Dan's identity on his plate.

"Sorry," Phil says again, just in case.

Dan rolls their eyes. "I'll see you tomorrow. I'm free after noon."

"Well, we won't go over there until after it gets dark," says Phil. "But I'll text you. We can - I dunno. Get something that's not sushi. Or just get sushi again, honestly, because I'm obsessed with it."

"Same," says Dan, dimples in full force. "We'll figure something out, anyway."

Before Phil can say anything else, Dan sways back into his space and gives him a tight, fleeting hug. "Tomorrow," they repeat before pulling away.

"Tomorrow," Phil agrees. His stomach is in knots and his bus is approaching, so all he can manage is a dorky wave before he has to start digging for change and preparing to make small talk with the bus driver. Dan waits until he's on the bus and gives him a two-finger salute before heading back down the way they'd come.

That detail, the fact that Dan had gone completely out of their way to walk Phil somewhere that he'd been vaguely anxious about, is almost enough to undo all of Phil's careful explanations of their actions towards him.

It wasn't a date. Phil hadn't asked them on a date.

But he's certain now, in a way that he's never been before, that he hadn't been the only one half-wishing it was.

--

Phil can't move.

He's not in the comfortable dullness of his childhood bedroom, where he'd fallen asleep. He's got rough wood under his back and dusty rafters above his head. He can hear the insistent sound of rain hitting the roof, but aside from that the attic is quiet.

He is alone in the Wilkins place and he can't move. For a very, very long time, nothing happens.

Then he feels pressure on his chest that hadn't been there before. He still can't see anything, but it's getting harder and harder to take breaths.

Just when he thinks he's going to pass out from the lack of oxygen, Phil wakes up.

--

"I've had nightmares about places we've investigated before," he says into the phone, hiding out in the kitchen while his parents watch some early morning news broadcast. He's got his clothes in the wash with some of his dad's stuff, so he's taken up roost at the breakfast bar with some cereal and he's been zoning out while looking at the spin cycle. "But they've never felt like... that."

"Like how?" Martyn asks. He's yawning a bit, and Phil almost feels bad about waking him so early.

"Like, real," says Phil. "I don't know how else to describe it, Mar. It felt like I was really there, like something was really sitting on my chest. I could smell the dust and hear the rain and - it felt real."

"Maybe it's not such a good idea to go back, then."

Phil huffs. "Are you kidding me? This just means I'm onto something."

"No, it means you're making reckless decisions because you want to be right so badly that you're willing to ignore warning signs," Martyn says flatly. "And, sure, maybe that's because there's actually something to investigate there, but is that a risk you're willing to take?"

The Wilkins place has never exactly been welcoming; Phil felt like there was someone watching him from the beginning, like they weren't alone in the old walls. And maybe it's stupid of him to keep going back when things had escalated last time into something he had no control over at all, but he knows he's right about this. That makes it hard for him to let go of it, to admit defeat and go back to Brighton with his tail between his legs.

This is his town. It doesn't matter that he's left or that his parents are leaving, too. These are the hills and the streets and the graveyards and the hospitals that he'd followed Martyn through until he was old enough to brave it on his own. He doesn't like the idea that something so relatively new could run him out of town with a nightmare and some flickering lights.

Maybe he does have something to prove. He doesn't plan on doing anything stupid, but he can at least recognise that the simple act of returning at night is stupid enough for the people who care about him to worry.

"I'll have Dan with me," says Phil.

"Oh, okay," Martyn says like he's found a corner piece in a jigsaw puzzle. "So there's a bloke involved."

Phil wants to say that Dan isn't a bloke, but he's got Dan's voice in his head semi-permanently now. He's pretty sure that Dan wouldn't object to the classification, and might even say that they're not not a bloke. Instead, he just sighs loudly. "It's not about Dan, knobhead. But they're, uh, kind of jumpy. So I won't spend more time in the Wilkins place than I strictly need to, okay? For their sake if nothing else."

"Promise?"

"Sure," Phil says, with far more irritation than he actually feels. If he acts prickly, then Martyn won't push. "Did you find out anything else about this place?"

"Not really," Martyn says through another yawn. "I guess Frankie said that some kids were fucking around with spells or something earlier this year? His sister and her friends got in shit for breaking and entering."

"Spells, okay." Phil pulls his phone away from his ear to make a note of that. "I think that was all the sigils we found upstairs, but I'll look closer at the other rooms."

"Be careful."

"Aren't I always?"

Phil hangs up before his brother can start pulling out any receipts.

[jmespottuh]

❛  if there’s one thing the gods love, it’s tragedy. with wings that burn and boys who fall. ❜

* ╰   brandon arreaga  ;  17 ;  he/him  —— wow, james potter sure has changed. i guess he is feeling isolated from the other gryffindor members. guess you can’t really blame them. i still remember them being so charming & incisive now they just seem dependent & inexorable.  guess being a  pureblood isn’t helping matters much either.  i’m hopeful though. they’ll be just fine.

links: pinterest, stats character parallels: bellamy blake ( the 100 ), shane madej ( buzzfeed unsolved ), jake peralta ( brooklyn nine-nine ), stefan salvatore ( the vampire diaries ), scott mccall ( teen wolf ), steve harrington ( stranger things )

james henry potter ( named for two his two grandfathers, maternal and paternal respectively ) was born on april 4th, 1960 to two of the most loving parents a child could have.

fleamont and euphemia had been trying for a child for years. they’d been together for basically all of time, having been that typical good-looking, well liked couple in hogwarts that everyone always just assumes will get married ( spoiler alert: they did ), however had had to postpone kids due to fleamont’s brief stint as a professional quidditch player for eight years following their graduation. after that, they would try every month for a child, and after many years of disappointment, eventually gave up. it was during this time that fleamont developed the sleekeazy hair potion which only added to their immense wealth. 

finally at age forty-one, they were surprised with the arrival of james. obviously, they saw him as their miracle child, and as such he was pampered and completely spoiled from the moment he was born.

i cannot stress enough how much this spoiled upbringing shaped james into the person he is today. if you’re wondering why he was ever an arrogant prick, it’s because he was always used to getting absolutely everything he ever wanted. he grew up with money, he grew up with fame and with every bit of attention he could garner, and so it was really no wonder he was a bit of an asshole by the time he started at hogwarts.

obviously, james had a pretty cushy childhood, and as such, shit didn’t start getting real until he started at hogwarts. 

it took all of three seconds for the hat to sort him into gryffindor, and i guess you could say he pretty much considered himself to be the gem of the house. he was the absolute epitome of a gryffindor, basically considered him the poster boy and all but expected everyone to love him.

really did not help his ego to know that everyone did.

in typical sterotype-gryffindor fashion, james hated slytherin. he had always been taught growing up that purists were basically the root of all evil, and his father had had no qualms in lumping all these people in with the house of the snakes. james and his friends took a particular disliking to severus snape almost immediately for the poncy way in which he seemed to believe he was superior to all for his intelligence and his house status, and this dislike only grew when lily evans was tossed into the mix, too.

for basically the first four or five years of hogwarts, james really was that stereotypical arrogant asshole that he’s often made out to be. he always got everything he asked for, he was incredibly popular and incredibly intelligent, he had the most amazing friends and his eyes on the most amazing girl. he was set!! shit was good!!

shit was not good, though. definitely was not.

despite having known of remus’ furry little problem since second year, things didn’t really start to settle in james how awful it was until third or fourth year. he hated seeing his friend in pain, he hated that he couldn’t help, and so he rallied the boys to put into action their worst plan yet!!!!

becoming animagi!!!!!!

it took fucking forever, obviously, but by the end of fourth year they did it!! we stan icons

except then in fifth year shit hit the fan again in just, like… so many ways

first, it was the whole severus ‘mudblood’ situation. honestly, james was absolutely furious. he’d always hated snape but this just made everything 1000 times worse. even if it had happened to anyone else, he would have been fuming. but for it to have happened to lily like… yikes. 

this was also a horrible time for james though because lily rejected him for the thousandth time. like, look, what a yikes thing to think when she was just called a mudblood, but frankly he was sick of being rejected and he was sick of being the asshole who kept pressuring her so that was the breaking point — he gave up on her. 

and tbh, he changed a lot from here on out. grew up!! became a better person bc he saw how horrible snap was and decided he was sick of horrible people!! saw, recognised and acknowledged that just bc he was hot and intelligent and rich he wasn’t always going to get everything he wanted ( see: miss evans ) and just generally learned that oh shit the world doesn’t revolve around him!!!

oh and then there was that whole thing with sirius and snape and remus the werewolf and ohhhh boyyyy…. that infuriated him. 

he loves his bros so much and y’all know he would die for them, but to see his friend abuse remus’ pain and suffering for his own gain was heart wrenching. it just pushed him further to pull him in line, to realise that not everything was about games, or petty rivalry, or ‘ getting the girl ’ — life was heartache and mistakes and it was never going to go the way he wanted it to.

now look, this isn’t all to say that james is now a super strict, super intense, brooding weirdo. he’s still a bit of a child, and he’s still a bit of an arrogant prick, but ultimately what wins out is his morals — every time. he wants to lead the world to a better place, without war and without hate, he wants everyone to have the same opportunities he had as a kid and he wants nothing more than for blood purity to be eradicated.

get that shit outta my house!!! gross!!!!!!

now in his final year, james is always flipping between taking his role as head boy deadly serious and turning it into one big game of mischief. he’s still a marauder at heart, after all, and has definitely abused his power sometimes for the benefit of fun and games, but when it comes down to it, he can be very strict and lowkey paternal. the leader really just…. popped right outta him, it came to play and it came hard, and really you’d think he’s minister for magic with how serious he treats it sometimes.

i hate him.

the disappearance of one of his best friends, one peter pettigrew, landed james to flop pretty fucking hard on the side of seriousness. once you spend months without knowing where your best friend is, thinking he’s dead, you’re bound to start to lose a bit of that which once made you smile. it was this piled on top of what james had already been feeling which led the head boy to start finding ways he could join the revolution within the walls of hogwarts --- it’s been bloody hard but james is determined to make a difference, to make sure no one else he loves suffers in a war that they never asked to fight in the first place.

anyway here’s some fun facts that didn’t fit up top

james is a lot less intense with his hatred for slytherin’s. he has come to recognise that not everyone from that lifestyle is going to be the same, not everyone who grew up a certain way or was sorted into a certain house is going to think with a deadly mind, and while he’s still a bit wary, he’s a lot more relaxed about it, especially as head boy ( gotta at least pretend shit’s fair !!! )

he’s very dependent as in like… boi cannot go a week without his friends. he is used to having people to bounce off, that’s always the type of leader he has been, and as much as he would probably be amazing at anything on his own, he’s never really tried. too scared!! i hate him!!!!!

super unforgiving. like, if you have gotten on his bad side…. i’m sorry. it is going to be very difficult to return from there. his moral compass is pretty black and white, you’re either good or your bad, and if you’ve done something he considers bad well sucks to be you, i guess. sorry not sorry.

takes his quidditch very seriously tbh. so many people have told him he needs to be a pro like his dad, but he’s like haha fuck you i know what i wanna do ( hint hint: he wants to rule that goddamn auror office, make that shit far more efficient then he thinks it is now ). but srsly, he’s so intense abt the game and it really like… idk gets him in the zone, keeps him level-headed in amongst all this chaos. 

he’s smart. i guess. straight a’s and shit idk. just very naturally intelligent, finds everything he does easy, like.. really is that asshole who is just good at everything he does.

[crimsxnflxwerz]

Don’t Want it Troubling Your Mind [bfu fic] -chapter 4

Don’t Want it Troubling Your Mind Fandom: buzzfeed unsolved Pairing: Shane Madej/Ryan Bergara; Shane Madej & Ryan Bergara Summary: Shane Madej really liked Ryan Bergara. He was funny, a joy to mess with, and took his brand of teasing pretty well. He would consider him a friend, kind of. But when the team goes to investigate the Franklin Castle for ghosts, Shane gets more than he bargained for, and the results could cost him his friendship with Ryan. Rating: teen Warnings: Demonic Possession, Existential Crisis, Complicated Relationships Authors note: This is a repost from Archive for people who don’t like Archive/prefer tumblr/etc. sup guys.

A week goes by. A whole week. And not just any week, the kind of week where you can feel every second of every day, grinding your teeth, unable to feel anything except your blood pumping through your body and gravity pressing down on your bones. The kind of week that lasts more than seven simple days.

No, it wasn’t the work that was getting deep under Shane’s skin, it wasn’t the stress, or the sleep, or the lack of appetite. It wasn’t his used up sick days, or the laundry sitting in a pile at the end of his bed. It wasn’t the rising electricity bills, or the polluted city air, or the hole forming in his favorite pair of socks.

It was Ryan Bergara.

You see, this whole week, Shane and Ryan didn’t really talk. No, what they did was an elaborate dance. They would discuss, not talk. They would plan, not hang. They wouldn’t make eye contact. They wouldn’t smile or laugh. They barely acknowledged each other’s presence unless it was unavoidable.

To be clear, this was not Shane’s choice. If he was in charge of whatever this was, it would be cancelled immediately. Shane missed Ryan’s quirky smile, and his cheerful laugh, and his playful banter. It wasn’t that he didn’t have other friends, it wasn’t anything like that. It was just, Ryan was special. All his friends were special, everyone was special to him. Everyone was different in their own ways, bringing new ideas to the table, sharing weird thoughts, laughing together. He missed that with Ryan. He missed Ryan.

He may have heard that the clip of the demon was under scrutiny right now in the office. The camera guys remembered seeing some weird stuff happening on the cameras, but they couldn’t conclude if it was fake or not. A deeply rooted part of him knew, for a fact, that the film hadn’t been tampered with. Beyond trusting Ryan, he’d seen this creature that manipulated the footage, the bustling swarm of bees, the storm cloud of evil, or something.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. As Shane grew more distant from his own life, Anael started appearing in small patches throughout the day. Shane could see it in other people’s face, hear its voice in the wind, feel the heat under his skin, like something alive lived there. He felt haunted. He never thought he’d feel this way. He always viewed a haunting like those typical horror movie theatrics. Complete with dish tossing and flickering lights. This was none of that. Anael crept into his mind and laid all the traps. Every sense, manipulated, made vulnerable. The ghost he’d seen in his apartment building before, that must have been Anael. He had done extensive research about the building, and it was relatively new construction, on land that wasn’t cursed in any way. There were no records of deaths, unusual occurrences, or hauntings to be found. With what Anael could do to his vision, hearing, and perception, he figured that must be it.

He wasn’t at the point yet of looking into ways to get rid of demons. There was still a part of him that wanted so desperately for this all to be a bad burrito, or lack of sleep, or too much caffeine. He thought of seeing a therapist, because for a hot second, he believed his google diagnosis of psychosis.

Ever since Franklin Castle, he’d felt beyond fucked up. He wasn’t really sure how to go about patching things up, especially while the reason they were broken was still active in his life. Anael wasn’t doing much but just spooking him now. In fact, he felt as if the fun that Anael was having was becoming repetitive. He knew that the demon hated repetitive things, he’s sure it would spice it up a little soon enough. He feared the worse for when that happened.

The Franklin Castle episode ended up being delayed, due to the questionable footage. People were still looking at it, wondering what was wrong there. No one found anything to suggest tampering, but they still didn’t believe it was real. Instead, the boys were charged with looking for a new place to shoot.

Shane honestly thought this would be a good thing. It would take their minds off of what happened, distract himself from whatever was happening to him, and let them move along in the series. After a little bit of searching, they decided to go to the Villisca axe murder house in Iowa. It was a strange little house in a strange little town. Along with being strange, it was also old. Many people had owned it since the murder, and many people have toured it as well. Shane did a little digging and found that there were many reports of whispers, experiencing strange urges, and other classic haunting things, like noises and unexplained temperature drops.

Shane was pretty sure that he could manage on shoot without doing anything too stupid.

Probably.

The shoot was in three days. They planned on driving, so maybe he could convince the group that they could take two cars (something about the luggage being too big) so that he could spend some quality time with Ryan. He was sure he could fix this, if only Ryan would let him. Not that he blamed Ryan for any of this, it wasn’t his fault- it couldn’t be. Shane was the one who called Ryan’s show a joke. He was the one who couldn’t accept facts or admit that he was wrong. Ryan probably felt more offended by Shane’s apparently disbelieve and lack of faith in him than by any offhanded comment about the show. Friends were supposed to trust each other, through thick and thin, through better or worse.

Shane mapped out the course they would take. Around sixteen hours, give or take, that they would be driving. It was already a full day of driving, and with time for stops, as well as driver switches, they would have to plan on travel being around 18 hours. They wouldn’t be able to shoot, even if they got on the road at the crack of dawn. He would have to stock up on five-hour energy, or a monster cup of coffee, or something. He just hoped that Ryan would be into the idea, the separate cars thing, that is.

When Shane arrived at the office, it was already bustling. It was 7am, and lots of people had come early to get work done earlier. It was rapidly approaching Halloween, and that meant parties. The earlier they could get out of work, the better, in that case. Arriving before 7am was just the compromise.

Shane wasn’t so big on parties, so he didn’t really care if he got home later. He was just going to go home and swap his work clothes for pajamas, pop some popcorn, and settle in for a scary movie anyways. He smiled at the thought, but did deflate a little when he remembered that Ryan probably wouldn’t be joining him.

As he walked to his desk, he wondered if he should just come right out and say it. Tell Ryan what was happening, that a demon was haunting him, making him say and do things. He wanted to tell Ryan, but there was a fear deep in his chest, one of insecurity. What if Ryan thought he was pulling his leg? What if he thought that Shane just wanted that get out of jail free card, and just made it all up? Shane was a lot of things, even an asshole sometimes, but pretending to be possessed was not something he would ever do to prank Ryan. Call out to spirits? Yeah. Challenge demons and lay on pentagrams on the ground? Yeah, he would do that. All that stuff was humorous. Ryan always laughed at his antics. Being possessed, or pretending to be? No. That was somehow crossing a line. Shane wasn’t really a man to cross lines often.

Ryan was at his desk next to Shane’s when he got there.

“Morning, Ryan.” Shane said. He smiled. Ryan glanced up at him quickly in acknowledgement, before looking right back down at his screen.

“Morning,” he said. “So, got everything planned out for the trip?”

“Yeah, about that,” Shane began, pausing just enough to get Ryan to look at him again. “I was wondering if we could take two cars. Me and you in one, the crew in a second.”

“Um, why would we do that?” Ryan asked. He looked back towards his computer. Shane sighed.

“I thought that it would give everyone more room.” Shane shrugged. “It is going to be a long car right after all.”

Ryan was quiet for a moment, staring intently at his screen. He seemed to be considering what Shane was saying. Shane sheepishly crossed his fingers.

“Okay, sure,” he agreed. Shane silently cheered. “We can do that.”

“You wanna take my car or yours?” Shane asked. Ryan looked back at the taller man and quirked a small smile.

“Mine, of course.” He said. Then, almost like he’d caught himself having fun, his face fell, and he looked back at his monitor. “Just, make sure you’re ready, we’ll be leaving really early.”

Shane sat down at his desk, mentally preparing all the things he needed to accomplish on this car ride. He was going to patch things up with Ryan. They were gonna be close again, and Shane wanted nothing more than that. Well, he also wanted this damn demon to leave him alone, but in his book, Ryan came first, always.

That night he called Sara to hang out at his place. She was glad to chill, since she wasn’t too big on parties either. She came over and they changed into the spookiest pajamas they had, popped some fresh popcorn on the stove, and settled down to watch some bad horror movies on Netflix. They put on Friday the Thirteenth, but Stranger Things was in their queue for series to watch together, so they figured that would be next.

“So,” Sara said, plopping down on the couch with their bowl of popcorn. She crossed her legs under it, tucking her feet in. Shane sat next to her. It was oddly reminiscent of cuddling with Ryan on his couch during the documentaries night. To think that wasn’t so long ago, but it felt like it’d been years at this point. “How’s the Ryan situation?”

“Ahh, do you really gotta bring that up?” Shane sighed, but there was also teasing in his voice. He knew she was just concerned, and it wasn’t like he’d done anything too horrible, so it shouldn’t be hard to talk about it. For whatever reason, he just kept making it harder, which he’d quickly realized was a horrible thing to be doing.

“Hey! I’m concerned about you!” She said, smiling. “I believe in you, Madej. You and Ryan will patch things right up, then you’ll go back to being dorks or whatever.”

“Hey, I’m not a dork.” Shane said, though it had no heat. He knew she was right.

“Yeah, because lots of cool grown men get excited about kid’s cartoon series.” She teased.

“Gravity Falls is a masterpiece,” Shane argued. “Dipper is the most relatable character to ever exist.”

Sara shrugged. “Wendy was my favorite.”

After that, Friday the Thirteenth started playing, and they began their little movie watching spree. After the third episode of Stranger Things, Sara forced herself to stop watching. She didn’t really plan on sleeping over, so she got all her things and left, wishing him a goodnight. When she was gone, Shane glanced at the time. 12:20am. He managed to carry himself to his bed somehow, and as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out.

In his dream, he’s in a dark room, but he recognizes it. It’s a blue bedroom, moonlight peeks in from the cracks in the curtains. He’s not alone. Beside him sits a figure. He can tell that it’s Ryan. He wonders if this is some continuation of that last dream he had, but the thought leaves his head like it was blown away. He can’t see Ryan’s face, but he knows the expression there already. He’s frowning, but not an upset frown, a contemplative one. He raises a hand in the dark, touches his lips, and sighs. Shane can feel the tension in the air thinning out, as Ryan moves back in, closing the distance between them. He feels the side of Ryan’s head press into his chest, an arm wrapped around his waist. His other hand bracing himself against the bed, Shane can feel the dip. He’s not sure where to put his own hands, but one finds its way to Ryan’s hair and tangles itself there.

“It’s okay, I know this isn’t you,” Ryan says, and it sounds weird, like they’re underwater. “I forgive you, I forgive you, I forgive you.”

Shane opens his mouth to speak, but the words catch in his throat. Suddenly he feels an anger well up inside him. He tries to push it back, push it away, because it’s not his own, but he fails. The anger rises up and takes control of his body. He fists his hand in Ryan’s hair and yanks him off of him. Shane watches from outside of himself, as his body pins Ryan to the bed and growls like an animal. He moves forward to try and push his body off of Ryan, but then he turns his head and looks at himself. His eyes are yellow. So, so yellow, and so hot. Angry. Just this look sends Shane backwards, out of the room, and he hears the door slam and lock. Tears stream down his face.

“No!” he screams, but no one can hear him. “Fuck! No, no, no! I don’t want this! I fucking hate this!”

Shane jolted awake. He felt something on his face, and when he reached up, he wiped away tears. He sat up and saw that his pillow was wet, as well. Had he been crying?

The dream he had was foggy, but he remembered the hot anger, the desperate begging, the slamming door. He shivered. Just when he thought Anael was leaving him alone, he comes straight back with a dream to torture him.

He checked his clock. 5:57am. He might as well get ready for work. The shoot was in two days, and they would be leaving tomorrow. He still hadn’t packed yet, but he figured he could just do that after work today.

He walked into his bathroom and turned the light on, revealing a figure standing behind him to his left. He jumped, biting back a scream. The figure was a man with piercing yellow cat eyes, skin black as soot, with horns spiraling up out of its choppy black hair. It looked more like a shadow than a man, the edges of it blurring and misting. Shane spun around to face it, but it wasn’t there. He turned back around to look in the mirror and it was still there.

“What is it Madej?” the figure said, but there was no mouth, just a voice clear as day echoing in his head. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“No, no, no,” Shane said through clenched teeth. “Stop fucking with me.”

“Maybe I would, if you would just let me in—”  the figure raised an arm to touch Shane’s shoulder. Before it could touch him, he jumped away from the mirror, staring back into the bathroom. Mist seemed to pour from all the little shadows in his bathroom to form a man. Shane moved backwards again, but tripped over his own feet and fell. He landed on his ass, looking up at the shadow demon.

“I saw what you want to do to Ryan,” Shane growled. Scared, but angry. The combination knocked the breath from his chest, made his head spin. “If you so much as breath in Ryan’s direction, I’ll kill you.”

The yellow eyes narrowed with mirth, and a horrible, echoing laugh sounded through his head.

“You? Kill me?” it laughed. “Not even in your dreams, Madej.”

The demon’s laughter got deeper and deeper as it’s body twisted and snapped, shrinking in on itself and reforming into something else. Shane scrambled to his feet, and when he looked back, a black dog had taken the demon’s place. It also had poison-yellow eyes, but this monster had large, white teeth and red, red gums. Shane bolted for his door, the dog growling and taking off after him, its jaws snapping mere inches from his ankles. He swung his door open and slammed it shut, sighing in relief when he felt a large thud hit the wood followed by a pained whimper.

At the sound of a cleared throat, Shane looked to the side. His neighbor was standing outside their apartment, giving him a concerned look. Shane slid down the door and sat on the floor. He smiled as normally as possible and waved.

“Such a great morning, isn’t it?” he laughed.

When Shane went back into the apartment after a quick walk outside to clear his head, it was exactly as he had left it. Nothing was out of place; besides the things he’d knocked over in his mad dash outside. He hoped that Anael didn’t decide to make yet another demon dog appearance. That one was by far the most terrifying.

It wasn’t as if Shane didn’t like dogs. He never had a dog in his life, or a cat, or anything larger than your average rodent. Dogs tended to make him nervous, generally, although he rationally knew that most of them were harmless. Stray dogs, however? They were unpredictable. They say not to pet stray dogs for a good reason.

Everything seemed to be okay, though, so he proceeded with getting ready. Though, he thought he would be early when he woke up this morning. He guessed he would have been if it weren’t for the demon haunting him. At this point, he could still solidly say that the demon scared him. Yeah, he wasn’t scared by much, but a demon who can transform into a rabid dog, speak through his mind, and wanted to ruin his life was pretty terrifying. Although, that fear was starting to move aside a little for a second feeling: anger. He was angry. Anael was getting in the way of his life, his friendships, his alone time. He was angry, because Ryan wasn’t talking to him, and he wasn’t doing anything about it.

This road trip would fix it. He would tie up all the loose ends. He would fix all the damage. He would trust Ryan and Ryan would trust him. He wouldn’t let the demon take Ryan, but he sure as hell was getting Ryan back.

He guessed that started with telling Ryan the truth.

When he walked into work, he immediately noticed that Ryan wasn’t at his desk. He saw that there were papers all over, his laptop open and dimmed in inactivity. There were two empty cups of coffee, a handful of printed photographs, a notebook, and three pens: one black, one red, and one blue. Shane looked around the room, but couldn’t see Ryan anywhere in the space. He pulled out his phone and opened his messaging app. He clicked on Ryan’s name.

His fingers hovered over the digital keyboard. Should he really shoot Ryan a text?

Fuck it.

Shane: Hey, you’re not at your desk, everything okay?

He sat down and booted up his computer. A few moments went by, where he mindlessly shuffled some documents around, before his phone chirped at him.

Ryan: yeah something’s come up Ryan: meet me in conference room b Ryan: we gotta talk

Shane immediately felt a little nauseous. He stood up so quickly that he didn’t see someone standing behind him, and knocked into them. Papers spilled out all over the ground.

“Oh god,” he said, bending down to help pick up the mess he made. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking—”

“Shane, it’s okay.” A familiar voice said. When he looked over at the person collecting papers with him, he saw that it was Keith. He grinned at Shane, collecting the last of the papers, before standing up. Shane handed him the ones he picked up. “In a rush?”

Shane scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, kinda, idk?” he wasn’t sure why he had the urge to run, but he did. “Sorry I bumped into you. You know how I get.”

Keith laughed. “Yeah, I know. I won’t keep you, here, thanks for helping me pick up.”

Shane blushed as he moved around Keith and made his way down the hall. He passed a few private offices and empty rooms, before he came to the conference rooms at the end of the hall. To the left were more rooms. He went up to the second one, took a breath in, and opened the door.

The conference room was spacious. In the middle of the floor was a table that easily sad ten people. All the chairs had wheels, and where all pushed out from the table in different directions like a group of people had just left. In one of the chairs sat Ryan. He seemed to be studying some papers. Shane cleared his throat, closing the door with a soft click.

Ryan turned around with a pensive look on his face. When he saw Shane, he seemed to almost smile, before his face fell.

“So, I’m just going to get right to the point,” he started, moving to stand. He didn’t look very happy. “We can’t publish the Franklin Castle episode.”

Shane felt like a rug was yanked out from under his feet. “What, now?”

“We can’t use the footage,” he repeated. “Remember the thing I showed you? I found more corruption and mysterious audio in the rest of the footage in the basement. When management saw the footage, they were convinced I had altered the footage, and demanded the original. I couldn’t give them anything, because I hadn’t done anything to the footage.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “They said that if I didn’t remove the altered footage, they would cancel my show. I didn’t know what to do, so I decided to just scrap the whole episode.”

Shane stepped closer to Ryan, holding out his hands as if to comfort his friend, but stopped halfway. “Ryan, I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t do anything to the audio or the video! That was real evidence!” Ryan shouted, and it sounded desperate. “I swear I didn’t do anything! I swear!”

“Hey, hey,” Shane said in a calming voice. He reached out and grabbed Ryan by the shoulders as gently as possible. Ryan looked up at him. “Hey, I believe you. I believe you.”

Ryan looked hopeful for a moment, before he shrugged off Shane’s hands, looking hurt. “You said the show was a joke. You’re probably just saying this now, because I was mad at you.”

“Ryan, please, listen to me,” Shane started, trying to appear as honest as possible. “I believe you. You want to know why?”

Ryan was silent for a while, still sporting the lidded, untrusting look. Then, he sighed, nodding. “Yeah.”

“When we were in that house, I felt some things.” He said. “The first time I went into the basement, I was snooping around when I felt cold hands grab my shoulders from behind me. I turned around and no one was there. That’s why I was running.”

Ryan’s eyes widened. “So, when you were freaking me out in the basement—”

“I was experiencing something again like that. It was so weird and freaky,” Shane said. “I didn’t want to freak you out just then, and then later I just didn’t want to admit it.”

Ryan grinned, moving forward into Shane’s space and placing a hand on his arm. “So, you believe me? And stuff happened to you there?”

“Yes, of course, I believe you,” Shane said. “I know you wouldn’t alter tapes to fake evidence. You’re not that kinda guy.”

The smaller man let go of his arm and turned back around to collect his things.

“Well, even if we don’t get to post the Franklin Castle video,” he said, “at least we’re gonna be filming again soon. At the Villisca ax murder house, right?”

“Yeah,” Shane confirmed. They walked together back to their desks. “The drive’ll be fun, and I have a good feeling about this place.”

“Me, too,” Ryan agree. For a moment, they just looked at each other. Stood in each other’s space. Ryan looked as excited as he felt. Maybe everything was going to be okay after all.

[non-binary-royalty]

1-170. :~}

youre lucky i love you

1: How tall or short do you wish you were?

i’m alright with my height, i’m average

2: What’s your dream pet? (Real or not)

a french bulldog

3: Do you have a favorite clothing style?

i usually wear a video game/pop punk band/power rangers shirt with jeans and sneakers. if i need a haircut i’ll wear a beanie or snapback

4: What was your favorite video game growing up?

sonic on sega genesis

5: What three things/people do you think of most each day:

i think about you, me, and my dog tbh

6: If you had a warning label, what would yours say?

caution: anxious piece of shit

7: What is your opinion on [insert person/thing here]?

u done goofed

8: What is your Greek personality type? [Sanguine, Phlegmatic, Choleric, or Melancholic]

melancholic gee what a surprise

9: Are you ticklish?

yes very

10: Are you allergic to anything?

basically everything outside

11: What’s your sexuality?

pan i guess

12: Do you prefer tea, coffee, or cocoa?

coffee, then tea, and then cocoa

13: Are you a cat or dog person?

both

14: Would you rather be a vampire, elf, or merperson?

vampire

15: Do you have a favorite Youtuber?

i don’t have a favorite youtuber per se but i really like braille skateboarding, green beetle, and db knives

16: How tall are you?

5′6

17: If you had to change your name, what would you change it to?

probably alexander

18: How much do you weigh? [Only ask this if you know the user doesn’t mind!]

around 210, which i’m working on changing

19: Do you believe in ghosts/spirits?

yes

20: Do you like space or the ocean more?

neither

21: Are you religious?

no

22: Pet peeves?

my biggest pet peeve is when people touch my stuff and don’t put it back properly and when someone finishes the rest of something without asking anyone else if they want any

23: Would you rather be nocturnal or diurnal [opposite of nocturnal]?

nocturnal

24: Favorite constellation?

tbh i don’t have one

25: Favorite star?

also don’t have one

26: Do you like ball-jointed dolls?

fuck no

27: Any phobias or fears?

basically everything

28: Do you think global warming is real?

yes

29: Do you believe in reincarnation?

i honestly don’t know

30: Favorite movie?

chicago

31: Do you get scared easily?

very

32: How many pets have you own in your lifetime?

7

33: Blog rate? [You’ll rate the blog of the one who’s asking.]

0/10 ;)

34: What is a color that calms you?

black or grey

35: Where would you like to travel and/or live?

i’d like to live in a scottish moor or something similar

36: Where were you born?

worcester massachusetts 

37: What is your eye color?

very dark brown

38: Introvert or extrovert?

introvert

39: Do you believe in horoscopes and zodiacs?

i don’t know tbh

40: Hugs or kisses?

both

41: Who is someone you would like to see/visit right now?

you

42: Who is someone you love deeply?

i don’t really know how to answer this 

43: Any piercings you want?

i wanna get a cartilage piercing and i want my nips pierced

44: Do you like tattoos and piercings?

yes very much

45: Do you smoke or have you eiver done so?

yep

46: Talk about your crush, if you have one!

nope

47: What is a sound you really hate?

chewing

48: A sound you really love?

campfires

49: Can you do a backflip?

fuck no

50: Can you do the splits?

also fuck no

51: Favorite actor and/or actress?

i don’t really have one

52: Favorite movie?

already answered 

53: How are you feeling right now?

tired and kinda sad

54: What color would you like your hair to be right now?

i like it the way it is

55: When did you feel happiest?

i don’t know. i felt really good while i was in love but idk honestly

56: Something that calms you down?

watching videos on youtube

57: Have any mental disorders? [Only ask this if you know the user doesn’t mind!]

yeah like three

58: What does your URL mean?

it used to be a longstanding joke but i had to modify it to accommodate my gender 

59: What three words describe you the most?

anxious, tired, sad

60: Do you believe in evolution?

yes

61: What makes you unfollow a blog?

shitty opinions

62: What makes you follow a blog?

if they post stuff i like

63: Favorite kind of person:

someone who’s nice and accepts me for me and laughs at my shitty jokes

64: Favorite animal(s):

dogs, cats, bears, bats, basically every animal tbh

65: Name three of your favorite blogs.

yours, and i really don’t have any others tbh

66: Favorite emoticon:

the crossed swords

67: Favorite meme:

anything with a dog or cat

68: What is your MBTI personality type?

infj-t

69: What is your star sign?

aries

70: Can your dog roll over on command, if you have a dog?

fuck no

71: What outfit out of all your clothes do you like to wear the most?

my neck deep shirt with either black or grey jeans

72: Post a selfie or two?

hell no

73: Do you have platform shoes?

nope

74: What is one random but interesting fact about yourself?

i’m not interesting at all but i guess i can tell you all that i really like watching documentaries

75: Can you do a front flip?

nope

76: Do you like birds?

sure

77: Do you like to swim?

no

78: Is swimming or ice skating more fun to you?

neither

79: Something you wish didn’t exist:

me

80: Some thing you wish did exist:

my love life

81: Piercings you have?

septum, used to have stretched ears, and had two piercings on each ear

82: Something you really enjoy doing:

watching videos and cuddling

83: Favorite person to talk to:

you

84: What was your first impression of Tumblr?

i thought it was a lot to take in at first

85: How many followers do you have?

1239

86: Can you run a mile within ten minutes?

nope

87: Do your socks always match?

most of the time yes

88: Can you touch your toes and keep your legs straight completely?

yep

89: What are your birthstones?

diamond

90: If you were an animal, which one would you be?

i’d wanna be a wolf tbh

91: If a flower could aesthetically represent you, what kind would it be?

probably something dead

92: A store you hate?

walmart

93: How many cups of coffee can you drink in one day?

one

94: Would you rather be able to fly or read minds?

fly

95: Do you like to wear camo?

no

96: Winter or summer?

neither

97: How long can you hold your breath for?

probably like fifteen seconds or something

98: Least favorite person?

myself

99: Someone you look up to:

idk

100: A store you love?

hardware stores

101: Favorite type of shoes

i love my stefan janoskis

102: Where do you live?

rhode island

103: Are you a vegetarian or vegan? If so, why?

neither

104: What is your favorite mineral or gem?

i like obsidian 

105: Do you drink milk?

yes

106: Do you like bugs?

nope

107: Do you like spiders?

fuck no

108: Something you get paranoid about?

everything

109: Can you draw:

nope

110: Nosiest question you have ever been asked?

i don’t know honestly, i don’t really like being asked questions about myself which is hilarious considering my current state

111: A question you hate being asked?

see above 

112: Ever been bitten by a spider?

i don’t think so

113: Do you like the sound of waves at the beach?

yes

114: Do you prefer cloudy or sunny days?

cloudy

115: Someone you’d like to kiss or cuddle right now:

pass

116: Favorite cloud type:

the ones that look like clouds

117: What color do you wish the sky was?

idk honestly

118: Do you have freckles?

yes i hate them

119: Favorite thing about a person:

sense of humor

120: Fruits or vegetables?

fruit

121: Something you want to do right now:

die

122: Is the ocean or sky prettier?

sky

123: Sweet or sour foods?

sour

124: Bright or dim lights?

dim

125: Do you believe in a certain magical creature?

not really tbh

126: Something you hate about Tumblr:

everything

127: Something you love about Tumblr:

the sense of camaraderie i guess 

128: What do you think about the least?

probably what i’m going to do with my life

129: What would you want written on your tombstone?

don’t worry about me, because i say that a lot

130: Who would you like to punch in the face right now?

myself

131: What is something you love but also hate about yourself?

i don’t really love anything

132: Do you smile with your teeth showing for pictures?

no

133: Computer or TV?

computer

134: Do you like roller coasters?

no

135: Do you get motion sickness or seasickness?

yes

136: Are your ears lobed or attached?

attached

137: Do you believe in karma?

yes

138: On a scale of 1-10, how attractive would you say you are?

0139: What nicknames do you have/have had?

al, alex, allie, pinhead larry

140: Did you have any pretend or imaginary friends?

probably

141: Have you ever seen a therapist/shrink?

yes

142: Would you say you are a good or bad influence to others?

i’d say i’m pretty shit so

143: Do you prefer giving or receiving gifts/help?

giving

144: What makes you angry

everything

145: How many languages do you speak fluently?

just english

146: Do you prefer boys, girls, and/or non-binaries?

girls and nbs tbh

147: Are you androgynous?

i guess

148: Favorite physical thing about yourself:

my arms i guess

149: Favorite thing about your personality:

nothing

150: Name three people you would like to talk to right now in person.

just you 

151: If you could go back into time and live in one era, which would you choose?

death

152: Do you like BuzzFeed?

i like taking the stupid quizzes and seeing the lists of cool/useless shit to buy

153: How did you meet your spouse/girlfriend/boyfriend/partner? [If you have one.]

don’t have one

154: Do you like to kiss others’ foreheads or hands for platonic reasons?

depends on who it is

155: Do you like to play with others’ hair?

also depends

156: What embarrasses you?

everything

157: Something that makes you nervous/anxious:

also everything

158: Biggest lie you have ever told:

probably something about me being fine

159: How many people are you following?

870

160: How many posts do you have on your blog(s)?

114,727

161: How many drafts do you have on your blog(s)?

0162: How many likes do you have on your blog(s)?

5628

163: Last time you cried and why:

yesterday, something my dad said to me

164: Do you have long or short hair?

short although it’s getting shaggy

165: Longest your hair has ever been:

a little past my shoulders

166: Why do you like, dislike, or have neutral feelings about religon?

i have neutral feelings because sometimes people just need to believe in something to feel safe/happy and if it doesn’t hurt anyone else then i don’t mind

167: Do you really care how the universe and world was created?

nope

168: Do you like to wear makeup?

nope

169: Can you stand on your hands or head for more than thirty seconds?

hell no

170: Did you answer the questions you were asked truthfully?

mostly

[youngerdrgrey]

dinners with dad (or, forced attempts at parenting) // a queen sugar fic, part three

.

.

about: Micah doesn’t take well to the thought of Davis with another woman. + read on ao3

+ the mid-season finale reminded me that I never shared this moment and have another two drafted that popped up throughout the season. this particular moment takes place within the first three episodes of season two.

.

.

iii.

Micah’s room at his dad’s place definitely beats crashing at Aunt Vi’s, or at Grandpa Ernest’s house. He has this window that looks out into the city and almost reminds him of his view back in L.A. (But the windows in LA all let out over mountains, with little specks of cars riding down winding roads and glimpses of endless cities below.) But his mom’s not here like she used to be, so it’s just Micah in his room and his dad, wherever it is that Davis decides to wait him out at.

Last time Micah stayed over, it wasn’t even on purpose. He was decorating the room and sat on the bed to call Keke. Wound up dozing off and woke up to hear his mom and dad arguing about whether it’d be right to wake him up. He’d just stayed quiet until his mom gave in, said she’d back for him in the morning. But this isn’t the same sort of tug of war condolence sleepover. This is the beginning of him having two bedrooms, two completely separate lives in the same city. And yeah, he’ll only have to cart stuff back and forth from here and wherever Mom moves to, but he’s never going to just have one home base again, is he?

“Hey, no, wait, you can’t.” Davis’s voice carries on the walls in this place. Maybe it’s just ‘cause of how low his voice is, or maybe Micah’s on edge. Either way, Micah can hear his dad pretty clearly. “I’m serious. This is not the right time.”

“And why not?” A woman’s voice asks that. Not any woman Micah knows by the way. Micah probably shouldn’t listen to this. It’s probably some random chick who wants to screw his dad. Somebody who doesn’t care that the divorce still isn’t technically finalized or that Davis can’t be trusted.

“Because I said so.” Davis does that scoff he loves so much. “Y’all get so entitled so quick.” The girl repeats the y’all, but Davis talks over her. "We met once. That doesn’t give you a right to come to my home. Now, if I want you again, I’ll call. Go on. Step.”

So this is it, huh? The other side of his dad. The side that cheated on his mom and bought hookers — er, sex workers — and didn’t care who he hurt in the process.

How can he just use women and throw them away like that? Like they don’t mean anything? Just — if this is how it’s gonna be living here, then Micah can go crash with his mom again. He’ll go back to Blue’s room until they find their own place. He will figure something out because he’s not listening to his dad just fuck random women and enjoy his newfound freedom.

Micah snatches up his backpack and shoves off the bed. He only gets to the stairs before he can actually see his dad. Davis hasn’t moved since closing the door, which doesn’t bode well for Micah actually being able to leave. Micah stumbles for maybe a fraction of a second, but then his bag bumps the wall, and then his dad does move. Spins around with eyes that barely show his surprise.

“Oh, hey, son.”

Micah pulls his bag tighter. “Hey. Listen, I think I’m gonna head out.”

Davis’s brows lift the same way Charley’s always do. Like they’ve got this matching look for where do you think you’re going this late. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Mom’s.” Which might not have been the best thing to say since Davis’s brows only climb higher.

“For what reason?”

Micah shifts. “I just feel weird over here is all.”

Davis steps away from the door. “Weird how, son? That’s probably just you getting used to it. It’ll take some time, but we can make this feel like home too.”

Will the random women be a part of home?

No, he can’t ask that. He can’t honestly say that to his dad.

“I just want to go see Mom. Okay, that’s it.” He paws for his phone in his pocket. “I can call an Uber.”

“What you can do is go back in that room.” Davis shakes his head. “I have plans for us in the morning. There’s no point in you going somewhere now just to come back.”

“Then I won’t come back.” 

Which, apparently, is where Davis draws the line. His chin juts out, and if Micah weren’t still on the stairs, then his dad would be towering over him. It’s an unfair advantage in every single argument they have. Davis commands attention. He’s large and cocky, and everybody loves him until he stops loving them and does them wrong. And now, he acts like everything’s okay. Like the whole world should forgive him for what he did, but it’s not like a new loft can erase the fact that he’s a cheater and a liar and he buys people’s forgiveness. It’s not like nice things make people forget about how much they hate you. Micah would know.

Micah tries again. “Dad, can I just go? Please?”

“Tell me why, and maybe I’ll let you. Tell me why, and you can have anything you want.”

Micah should’ve just lied and said he was going to see Keke. His dad doesn’t question that. That part makes sense to Davis, you know, just women and relationships or whatever. But Micah’s not like his dad in that way. Maybe he’s more like his mom. His mom’s had this weird sort of thing with Remy for months now, and he’s pretty sure they’ve never done more than make out a few times. He doesn’t even think they’ve been on a date. His mom takes her time with new situations. She lets herself find her way into something new and sort of makes herself a home within it. And like how Remy makes it easier for his mom to be down here, Keke makes it so much easier for Micah. And it’s not just about her being cute and smart and funny and probably the most real girl that he has ever talked to. She legitimately cares, about everything. About him and his relationship with his parents and how he’s handling the cops being rough with him. She really just… gets him.

Micah can’t throw her under the bus like that. He can’t pretend that all he wants is to see her when all he wants is to not see his dad.

He pulls at the backpack strap again. Talks to the spot behind his dad instead of meeting his dad’s eyes. “I heard that girl. I can’t…. You might be okay with living like this, and pretending that everything’s okay now that you and Mom aren’t together, but I can’t. I don’t want to pretend, Dad. I don’t want to act like I’m fine with you having girls over.” His voice starts building. Shaking a bit, and he swallows to steady himself, but it doesn’t fix it. “You’re not even fully divorced. You still have our family spread in the office.” Not hanging up or anything, still Davis had movers bring that over. He used to have hope. And if he has hope, then how can he act like this? How can he sleep with anyone other than Charley and expect for them to ever be normal again?

“Now, hold up, you just talked about your mom and that farmer of hers, so what makes me seeing somebody any different?”

Micah scoffs. “You’ve been seeing somebody for years, Dad. That’s the problem. You want me to trust you, and you’re still doing the same stuff that ruined our family.”

“Your mother—“

“Left you? Yeah, I get it. She should’ve. But if you regret that at all, then you should show it. Until then, I think I can just be somewhere else.”

Davis shifts this time. His chin lowering while he huffs out his nose. Maybe not huffs. He more exhales. Thinks over whatever he’s about to say and then asks, “And if I don’t? Regret it?”

The question hollows out whatever used to be inside of Micah. Carves out the words and the air and the organs until nothing’s there but this echo of the question. And if I don’t? He grew up with two amazing parents in a great house in a beautiful city. And if I don’t? He’s growing up in two small houses in another amazing city. Regret it? He’s growing up with one amazing parent and one who never learns. One who puts himself over the rest of the family. One who somehow doesn’t regret imploding all of their lives and thrusting them into this stupid situation where everybody in the world knows more about Micah’s parents’ relationship than he does.

“I don’t know.” His mom went viral on Worldstar. There’s a Buzzfeed listicle that walks everyone through the story of the night and where everyone is now. Someone honestly reached out to him through his DMs once to see if he wanted to give a quote about how they’ve adjusted to their new life. Does none of this matter to Davis? Is it just about sex with random women and pretending to be a good dad now? “Can I please go?”

Davis sighs. “I’ll drive you.” He turns for the key bowl. “We can get you something on the way. You should eat."

Feeding him won’t make anything better. “Thanks.” But Micah doesn’t know what else will either.

.

.

.

[on to the next part ~ spoilers for 2x08 in the next part]

[larryfanfiction]

blind from this sweet, sweet craving by missandrogyny (31k)

"So, I guess we'll go?" Louis asks later, when Harry has calmed down and eaten his weight in Chinese food. He plays with this chopsticks, spearing another piece of chicken and pops it in his mouth. "I mean, I wouldn't mind. We could make it an adventure."

Harry observes him, watches him seated across from him on their old living room carpet, with a container of food on his lap. He's fidgeting, avoiding meeting Harry's gaze–he probably knows that Harry's mad at him for ruining the one chance they had to get out of this situation. And he's not wrong, Harry is definitely very mad. Harry wants to strangle him and castrate him and smack him upside the head.

But he's also Harry's best friend, and despite everything, despite all the fuck-ups and the plot twists and everything just not playing out the way it should, he'd still rather be stuck in this situation with Louis than any of the other boys. He's got Harry's back, and in a weird, abstract way, he knows they'll be able to get out of this situation, together.

Harry sighs. "We're going," he says resignedly, his shoulders slumping.

Oh well. There are definitely worse ways to spend the weekend than pretending to be engaged to his best friend.

baby we could be enough (i'll make this feel like home) by anyadisee (52k)

“Did you clean the table?” Harry asks Louis once Rose is done speaking, now occupied with trying to see if she can reach over and touch Harry’s hair from where she’s sat. At Louis’ nod, Harry frowns. “You didn’t have to do that. You’re my guests here, I could’ve dealt with it later.”

Louis just smiles easily, though, adjusting Rose on his lap so that she’s facing Harry better. She manages to tug on a loose wave of hair, and she makes a noise of triumph that both Louis and Harry smile at.

“I don’t mind,” Louis murmurs to Harry, even though he’s looking at Rose. “This one here seemed very excited to talk to you.”

And, okay. Harry can’t help but think of how domestic this feels, all of a sudden.

[harry is a photographer who's trying to find his place. louis is a single father with a smile that feels like home.]

You're My Favorite Bird  by supernope (33k)

Harry sets his hands on the counter and leans over them, looks Louis in the eye and says, “Louis, would you like to go bird watching with me?”

Louis just blinks at him for a moment, like he’s not sure how to respond, then says, voice slow and unsure, “Is that a euphemism?”

Also known as: Harry is an ornithologist and Louis owns the camera repair shop where Harry gets his photos printed. Niall works for Louis, Liam works with Harry, and Zayn paints. There's a cat, some camping, some bird watching, and obscene amounts of fluff.

the magic that is you and me by scagnetism (18k)

This man who was a complete stranger only a few hours ago – who still is a complete stranger, really – has taken over his heart and mind and he wants to understand the way they orbit each other, the way they fit after barely any time has passed. He feels like he’s just come alive, like a new part of him he didn’t know existed has suddenly been awakened, and he wants to feel this forever, wants to ride the high for the rest of his life.

Or, the AU where Harry works at Jason Mraz's avocado farm, Louis works for BuzzFeed, and they've only got a few hours to fall in love.

Needing You More and More, Let’s Give Love A Try by supernope (33k)

'Do not get hard, do not get hard,' Harry chants in his head. It’s working, but Harry still breathes a silent sigh of relief when Louis lets go of his wrists and clambers off of him. He doesn’t move for a moment, just watches Louis fuss nervously with his fringe before saying, “Why don’t we go walk off breakfast?”

Harry only hesitates for a second, then nods. He gets to his feet with a quiet, “Be right back,” and heads back to his bedroom to get dressed. Once safely enclosed in his room, Harry glares down at his belly and scolds, “It’s bad enough that you’re messing with my body temperature, do you have to mess with those hormones, too?”

There’s no answer from the baby, but Harry takes that as surrender. Pausing by his bed, Harry takes a second to shake off the residual, lingering embers of arousal before choosing an outfit for the walk. He’s already pregnant with a stranger’s baby, the last thing he needs right now is to be lusting after his best friend.

[OR when Harry gets pregnant after a one night stand, Louis helps him get everything together, from buying pregnancy clothes to taking him on a babymoon. Somewhere along the way, they realize that their feelings for each other are more than platonic.]

Baby There's No Other Superstar by panicmoonwalk (4k)

Louis is an underwear model who gets a little more than he bargained for when Harry's the photographer on his next shoot.

the chemical, physical kryptonite by scagnetism (6k)

AU in which Harry is a photographer, Louis is a uni student, and they meet at a coffee shop. Louis isn't enamored with Harry, not at all, not even one bit.

Keep These Memories for Ourselves by sunflowerstyles (9k)

Harry's a professional photographer and he can never keep his mind off of different ways he can take pictures of Louis. Louis can be a bit camera shy, but Harry finds a way to build up his confidence and get him to relax in front of the lens. Louis discovers just how much the camera loves him.

Don't Unplug Me Or Shut Me Down by slashter (7k)

Louis scowls. "He's a photography student. He works with gorgeous models and probably breaks hearts with his smile. I'm a nerd. I earn my money fixing broken crap, and for some stupid reason, I like it. He wears short skirts, I wear t-shirts, he's cheer captain and I'm on the bleachers, et cetera, et cetera." Louis sighs. "I swear, the coolest thing I've ever done is wear contacts."

Basically, Louis is a self-proclaimed nerd who fixes things and Harry seems too perfect to keep breaking as many things as he does.

i'll bring the bread because boy, you're the jam by scagnetism (8k)

Just when he’s about to stop clicking the next button and claim defeat, maybe put some posters up around town, he’s met with a picture of white cardstock lying on a table, words written in black Sharpie with careful, deliberate strokes. “Hiiii,” it reads, “if you’re reading this, you’ve found my camera! I’d love it if you could contact me so I can get it back. It’d be the nice thing to do.”

Or the AU where Harry loses his camera. Louis finds it. They fall for each other via email.

[heartlikearchive]

     Let’s talk about Betty on Valentine’s Day! I’m going to break this down into verses so it’s nice to see what she’s doing, who she’s spending it with usually within most verses. I think, though Betty is a total romantic, she’s not as high maintenance as Veronica is, and her expectations aren’t too high when it comes to celebrating Valentine’s Day. I think, for her, it’s just a fun commercial holiday that doesn’t really need to be totally expressed? Like, she won’t get mad if the person she’s dating forgets to get her anything, but say, were this the 1950 and Archie was dating both her and Veronica, and forgot to get her something, but got Veronica something, then that’s completely different. 

I like to think growing up, Betty would watch her parents celebrating it and her mom would make heart-shaped pancakes for her and Polly,  and Chic (when Betty was super, super young). 

VERSE ONE: In the comics verse, I see Betty, Veronica and Archie spending Valentine’s Day together. Betty spends the morning baking heart shaped cookies for a bake sale at school, and Archie buys two, one for her, which he pops into her mouth with a grin, and one he slips into Ronnie’s locker. Also, she totally buys Caramel something, like a new collar or something because she’s cute like that. #catladybetty 

VERSE TWO: In the Riverdale verse, Betty’s romantic-isms are hyped a little more than the other verses, because she’s less of a tom-boy here and a lot more... I want to say kind of, sentimental in a sense? Anyways, I could see Betty and Jughead ignoring Valentine’s Day somewhat and working on something together. Or maybe Betty helps Kevin pick out an outfit for a date. Or, if she’s seeing soemone, they go out to Pop’s or see a movie together, and then have a picnic on a ridge somewhere in the rocks overlooking Riverdale and it’s sweet and cute. I picture Betty kicking back on her bed at the end of the night, watching the actual movie Valentine’s Day with Veronica, and then switching into an Audrey Hepburn movie that Veronica picks. If Alice is there, they retreat to Veronica’s place, and it turns into a sleepover where they fall asleep at four am, sharing stories about first kisses and childhood crushes and taking dumb Buzzfeed quizzes and it’s adorable. 

VERSE THREE: In college, I see Betty spending the day in he rroom (aww), she calls to make sure her dad didn’t forget to buy her mom flowers. She watches a few episodes of V-Day related Friends, and then her and a group of friends go out to the a party someone is throwing and end the night at a fast food place somewhere, and it’s sweet and nice, and fun. 

VERSE FOUR: In the Afterlife verse, you know, I kind of doubt they’re fully celebrating Valentine’s all out, but I can see Archie and Betty cuddled together, with a little reminiscing, and maybe they somehow manage to find a bottle of wine somewhere. After a couple of kisses, everyone finds their way into the room and it just ends up as a sweet little gathering. 

VERSE FIVE: Witch!Betty babysitting a few kids on Halloween and telling them that if they can keep a secret she’ll enchant the toys so they fly around, and she takes them on a ride on her broomstick, and they bake something using a recipe a pixie cooking channel on Magetube (magic youtube duh) has up, and it’s fun and cute and ahhh. And then once they’re asleep, Either Veronica (also a witch?) or Archie takes her out and maybe it’s a group date? Either way... Cute! 

VERSE SIX: Oooh, bad girl Betty on Valentine’s Day... You can’t tie down the romantic, y’all. If she’s dating someone in this verse, it’s very complicated on her part because she’s trying to wrangle down her expectations, and probably pretends that she’s chill and cool and doesn’t want to celebrate Valentine’s Day but... She does. She really does. Potentially very messy because she’s fighting against who she really is, and trying to act differently, and be a different person who believes and likes different things and, yk, that won’t really work. 

VERSE EIGHT/NINE/TEN/ELEVEN: Eight, Nine and Eleven are both supernatural verses, while Ten is my Metahuman!Betty verse, but collectively I just picture Betty chilling out with whomever she considers family there. Helping out, maybe cooking up something yummy, possibly doing some good, yk, just being the babe next door. 

VERSE FOURTEEN: Ellie helping Betty get ready for Valentine’s Day date? Arguing over which blush better compliments her skin? Ends in a really dumb argument about who comes up with the better blush name, since the one they ended up using is named “002′ or something. (Ellie comes up with ‘Dawn and Dusk’) After, babysits some kids maybe? And they make fun Valentine’s Day crafts together, and Betty comes home with red and pink streamers in her hair, and a smile on her face. 

I mentioned above in a few places that if Betty is dating someone, obviously what she’s doing shifts a little. In private verses, and specific dynamics, that obviously also affects what’s going to be going down too (so yk, y’all should come plot with me about Valentine’s Day hcs!!). 

I don’t think Betty is the type to be down on herself if she’s alone on Valentine’s Day. She has her friends, she has her family, and she has her cat, and that’s more than enough. Valentine’s Day is just any other day, and so I can’t see it really bothering her, the way it might bother Daphne, for example, or someone more !!!!!! about dating. So... Yeah! 

[ziggykazenzakis]

i heard medium is a dyieng website so imma drop here all i had there just to have it somewhere

Schedule

12:02  —  Get up slowly, smoke the first cigarette. Find out you’re out of toothpaste.

12:10  —  Watch the new episode of Men Are Important, a show about the world where Men Are Important.

12:32  —  Fall asleep in the middle of Men Are Important.

13:11  —  Wake up nervously, smoke the second cigarette. Eat something.

13:17  —  Download a collection of short stories by someone incredibly obscure, some comic books, bit of contemporary french cinema. Never open downloads.

14:00  —  Go to the store to get groceries and toothpaste, come back with cigarettes, white wine and frozen pizza.

14:23  —  Write post for Community Buzzfeed, titled “28 reasons my God is better than yours”.

16:00  —  Go outside.

17:00  —  Point fingers at journalism majors.

19:27  —  Tell strangers at a bar how comic books and radio are close as mediums.

20:52  —  Get hit in the face.

22:12  —  Come home, write an essay on cultural significance of 400 Blows (never watch 400 Blows). Smoke fourteenth cigarette.

23:49  —  Look in the mirror.

00:28  —  Read Batman comics, open another pack of cigarettes.

01:02  —  Read Batman comics, but ironically.

02:37  —  Think of your own grandeur for prolonged periods of time, do absolutely nothing.

03:58  —  Find the strangest porno possible.

04:49  —  Try to fall asleep, cry silently.

12:02  —  Get up slowly, smoke the first cigarette. Find out you’re out of toothpaste.

bad joke from 2014

a man walks into a bar man drinks and drinks as he tries to drown his sorrow in cheap yet over-priced liquor which is probably watered down too he comes to a realization epiphany, perhaps not even that though because he spent the most of his adulthood trying to shrug off that idea deep back into the ether he comes to a realization that whatever he does is meaningless meaningless beyond the point of comprehension he doesn’t care for dead philosophers mind masturbation nor for the idea of time and space being the same intertwined thing all he knows is that his actions have no impact on the world around him none

after that setup you might expect a cheerful twist or an absurd one nihilism is intensely boring you might think, “it’s not about the journey it’s about the destination, honey” well first of all, don’t patronize me secondly, we can still get back to the base of this anecdote some slapstick comedy, maybe? or salvage the entire thing with some pop-cultural references that y’all hate but pretend to love it’s actually quite an art, to be pretentious whilst talking about Batman of all things

man keeps on drinking he looks up at the tiny TV atop the bar it’s a rerun of some sports game is that what they called? sports games? the whole thing is ridiculous and way past my control over it commentator says, “stop wallowing in self-pity” man is confused he looks to his left he looks to his right he looks right at the screen and gulps a shot of whiskey “that is what you’re doing with your life? little cry-baby anyway, back to you Johnson” “the game is quite a race today, folks…” and the voice trails off barkeep already saw the game he doesn’t care it’s not like there was much to care about in the first place man pays the bill leaves a tip not too much, not too little he goes home he’ll try to forget and he’ll inevitably fail

the bar was called “Huge Sweaty Balls” are you happy now that’s the punchline that’s the joke you’ve been waiting for everything is fucking great

Banned Names

Amir left the subway, avoiding stranger’s gaze, awkwardly tapping into it ever so often, apologizing as much as he can for snow-covered ten gallon hat using only his eyes. Through side streets and backstreets, which lead to crooked steps, which lead to a heavy door, which leads to basement. Hit aperture with his hat, bowed a bit, came in. Through hallway, and must shake hands with everyone, came. “Sorry guys, slept through”, Amir said. “What’s with the hat, did Haggard die?”, said Jim. “I’ve decided, that the band is called Astral Cowboys”.

“No”, said Thrasy. “Why?”, said Amir. “Cause that’s some fucking bullshit. I disagree”, said Thrasy. Thrasy was sure that the might one is the right one. Not many people agreed with him on things but less have tried to argue.

“Your will and we would have been called Wacky Eugenics”, said Amir. “I like it”, said Jim, not expecting spited glances from both sides. “And what would that be, in your idea? Delta Witchhouse?”, said Thrasy. “Nah, pretty casual psychedelics”, said Amir. “Why not just post-punk”, said Jim, fully expecting spited glances from both sides.

“Alright”, said Amir, “Astral Cowboys, gimme something better”. “Heinous Crime”, said Thrasy. “Circumstances”, said Jim. “No, Complications”. “Upvotes From The Underground”, said Jim. “If you won’t take it seriously then shut the fuck up”, said Thrasy. “A Kilo Of Potatoes”, said Jim.

“You got some bad ideas, Astral Cowboys”, said Amir. “Where does this preconception comes from, that you got the final word?”, said Thrasy. “Main vocals, lead guitar, lyrics — who else?”, said Amir. “Richards rules the Stones”, said Thrasy.

“Imma smoke”, said Jim, and left. “And one who dares to think that Astral Cowboys is a good title for anything should not write anything let alone songs”, said Thrasy. “It’s a good title! Intentionally kitsch but comfortable, relaxed, some chick shit, in a good way”, said Amir. “Here’s what’s going to happen”, said Thrasy. “Justice will be accomplished. Great, strong people been showered in mud by the weak, time and time again. Because they were allowed to. We’re going to punk. And it won’t be a riot. It will be anger. My holy mission is to continue what the Ramones started, convinced conservatives and a bunch of beautiful, rare bastards. I’m going to hit you, and you are going to hit the ground, and the band shall be called Circumstances. Or whatever the hell, Jim had some good ideas, but not Astral Cowboys, chief”.

Jim looked at the falling snow under the light of the street lamp. As he was lighting up a cigarette, he thought that he should learn to draw. He opened up a two years old text file on his three years old phone which was titled “bandnames.txt” and contained such as “Damn, A Burger? Don’t Mind If I Do”, “The Whatnots”, “No Weekends” and so on. He added “Ciet Vong”, which put up the file at the top of the list, threw the cig into a snowdrift, and walked back.

Jim walked in on a couple of grown children, trying to wrestle somewhat, and to hit, and not to damage all the appliance around. “How about Homoerotic Subtext? For a band name”, said Jim.

The band was standing and smoking. “We wasted three paid hours without touching the instruments”, said Amir. “Next week, same time?”

et in arcadia ego

looked barely dead and the cats started chewing on my thigh. They are sure that I’m dead, that I have no need for it, and that the still warm flesh is much more enjoyable than dry feed. The screens around blink with bright imagery of sin. Pick up the phone, look at the list of recent calls, which consists of the same number. After a click, beeps, before someone could reply, say “large pepperoni”, tell address, say, that I won’t need the change. Full cats fell asleep under the warm screens. After an hour to the dot, knock on the door. A kid paler than me holds a large white box the content of which is covered in sand round-shaped bread. He left without saying anything with his ten percent tip (cause death isn’t a reason to be uncorteous). Someone vaguely familiar comes in, full of energy, greets, tells how someone somewhere robbed a bank and uploaded the video of it on one of those sites. Says that if you take a city map and connect all the banks and their subsidiaries you’ll see a pentagram made of pentagrams which are made of pentagrams. “Dude, the main problem with you-know-who is that he didn’t transform hell into heaven but just sits there being a cog”, he says. After a brief pause, I say “we gotta call some five acquaintances and play some basketball”. “Good thinking, dude, good thinking. If all’s well we gotta smash some ATM afterwards. I don’t know why people don’t do it all the time, those things don’t look that hardy”, he says. We leave, the weather is perfect.

untitled

Sportscaster screams “verbiage” when I’m on a stroll Decribing empty vistas filled with horny patrols My dead self is my best self mind not in Malcolm’s way Beware of feedback loops every step of the way Give me a reason to leave my poorly assembled set To this very day les tricoteuses make content

Well you have ears and you have eyes Don’t listen to me look at some other guy There’s some courage to be had Writing down history of victorious empty heads It must be side effect of broken sleep patterns Finding rhythm and beauty in fecal matter

Stinging bland colors exorting a laugh Soundbites of worst to offer, what a fun life I’m asking others how to feel Plateauted yet again it’s no big deal When there’s light again over parks and backdoors I’ll try to mute proclivities towards bromide and havenots

My Dear Friends

The only thing here separating a lion and a man is a lousy moat. Jack Drowsey stands alone in Miami Zoo and stares at the animal. The sun is high on this weekday, Jack ignores a text from his boss, the lion looks back at Jack serenely, Jack puts phone on silent when boss calls, the lion yawns and stretches, Jacks turns the phone off when his wife calls. Jack leaves the zoo and gets in a car for which he has a key. Turns the ignition on, rips off BMW Dealership sticker off the glass and drives. He spent four years in Florida and never seen an alligator, but plenty of idiots. When Castro died, he saw a miami cuban and a skinhead hug. He drives among palm trees and potholes and thinks of his childhood in rural California. He had two friends, Barney and Billy. Barney now lives in San Francisco doing “some gay bullshit”, as Jack calls it. Billy died a few years back, OD’d on Xanax. It gets dark as he crosses the state line. Back in Bakersfield, Jack, Barney and Billy had a game. There was this guy everyone called just Dirty who had a real oxy problem. He was about twenty, but no one knew for sure, while Jack and the gang were all thirteen at the time. The goal of the game was as follows: get Dirty in a cage. They had a cage. The game was usually lost, except for that one time, when Billy told Dirty that if he stayed in the cage for an hour, they’d give him twelve dollars. Dirty walked into the cage, the boys locked it and left. From then on, Dirty was the wiser. Jack has been driving for three days straight now. Once, Barney had a Problem, he wanted to enlist. This curly pudgy kid, the kind who listens to Talking Heads, seventeen at the time, decided he had enough. He shaved his head, started running in the morning, talking about some evils from abroad gathering upon our doorstep, with nothing but vile intentions under their brown skins. Jack didn’t really care, he was happy for his friend to lose some weight and get a better chance at getting laid, but Billy was fuming. For three weeks there were constant arguing, until the two stopped talking and shaking hands altogether. Two months later, Jack’s birthday, which he saw as an opportunity to reconcile his buddies. They spent most of the night at the opposite ends of the room until they were drunk enough to get into some altercations. The previously routine arguing quickly turned when Billy yelled “Bash the fash!”. He must’ve forgotten that previously an artsy cunt spent time working on his body, while Billy was smoking weed and telling young women that they should all look more like Suicide Girls. Barney broke Billy’s nose, who was then smiling and coughing blood laying on the ground. Barney cried a bit. Everything returned to normal. Jack is approaching LA. He hadn’t slept, he hadn’t eaten, he stopped at a gas station once and got a bottle of water. He shuts his eyes for a second at an intersection and a truck is swift and merciless. Now he’s in LA, of sorts. It’s snowing. Dirty approaches him, but he’s clean, and he’s dressed up as Elvis. “Hi, Jack, remember me?”, says clean Dirty. “It’s me, Bruce”, he says. “You’re dead, buddy. Billy is here too, you wanna meet him? Or maybe someone famous first, how does a date with Rita Hayworth sounds to ya, huh, old pal?”, says Dirty. Jack keeps walking, Dirty follows. There’s no sunshine, only snow. There are no cars and Dirty is the only person around. Where would be banners and posters and billboards that advertise a multibillion industry of boredom is nothing; all of them show nothing. “Where are you going, you little shit?”, says Dirty, and Jack finds himself to be thirteen. He keeps walking. “You think I don’t remember? Here it’s hard to forget. All you do is remember”, says Dirty to the kid. “Where the fuck did you even find a cage?”, says Dirty, stops walking, mumbles something, pulls out a cigarette. Jack stops walking too. “We were just kids”, Jack says. “Whatever, asshole. I don’t care. There isn’t some lesson to be had here. Just go”, Dirty says, puffing on a newport. Jack is adult again, and he keeps walking. Until he sees Billy, whose skin is whiter than the snow around. “Why did you leave them?”, he says. Jack punches Billy in the shoulder. “Why did you leave us?”, he says. Billy can’t handle the punch and falls on his ass. “You and Barney seemed to have it figured out, somewhat. He with his art, you with your wife and a job. Not a great job, but a real job, doing something, being able to afford shit and all. I had absolutely nothing. I had no one. I did not leave you two, you did that before. I had bills, I had no fun, I had an easy way out. I took it. What’s your excuse?”, says Billy. And Jack has none.

[stormtrooperchelsea-blog]

Best Stormtroopers Articles

Stormtroopers - the world's biggest army?

In the Star Wars universe, Stormtroopers are the armour-clad foot soldiers of the Empire - hundreds (perhaps thousands) can be seen in the films, gamely battling the Rebellion. But how many Stormtrooper toys exist in our world? Are they the biggest secret army on Earth?

This question is more difficult to answer than you might think. I had a bad feeling about the chances of success, but as Yoda would put it: "Do. Or do not. There is no try."

The toys based on the original films were made under licence by the US firm, Kenner, between 1978 and 1985. Kenner was absorbed into Hasbro in the 1990s. Now the toys are made by Disney. But none of these companies could give me sales figures for the number of Star Wars toys sold.

So, as Star Wars figures are popular with collectors, I asked several online communities if they had any idea how many there were. No-one had a number, but everyone agreed it was probably very big. One enthusiast claimed to have more than 200 Stormtroopers in his personal collection.

My first significant breakthrough came from an unlikely source - the Leicestershire County Council Museum Service. The original Star Wars toys were produced under license in the UK by a company called Palitoy. They had a factory in Coalville in Leicestershire, and the museum inherited some of its paper. An internal company newsletter from 1985 revealed it had sold 25 million action figures in the UK alone - more than one toy for every child in the country at the time.

These toys have been a big success, spawning their own spin-offs, including computer games and books. And Lego was able to tell me how many Stormtrooper mini-figures it has sold.

One billion.

That's a massive army. The International Institute for Strategic Studies estimates there are just under 20 million military personnel on Earth today. So Lego Stormtroopers alone outnumber every army on Earth by about 50-to-1.

https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-35170829

Most Popular Character in The Force Awakens

People Are Obsessed With This Random "Star Wars: The Force Awakens" Character

Going into Star Wars: The Force Awakens, the Stormtrooper everyone was excited about was Captain Phasma.

But now that the movie is out, a different First Order trooper has captured the hearts and minds of the people.

Though this Stormtrooper is nameless in the movie, the Internet has named him TR-8R after his obsession with the traitorous Finn.

https://www.buzzfeed.com/andyneuenschwander/traitor?utm_term=.orwbjLmXzl#.oyo349QZPM

Stormtrooper Mark Hamill 

Mark Hamill Went Hilariously Undetected Dressed As A Stormtrooper On Hollywood Boulevard

Luke Skywalk— ER... I mean Mark Hamill — walked around Hollywood Boulevard dressed as an undercover Stormtrooper. Obviously, things got pretty hilarious.

Unfortunately for everyone, no one picked up on the presence of The Force hiding underneath the Stormtrooper outfit.

https://www.buzzfeed.com/christianzamora/mark-hamill-dressed-as-stormtrooper?utm_term=.qcNPVRxwbo#.vl93nex7wB

Awesome Star Wars Halloween Costumes

Now, with this Ultimate Edition Darth Vader Costume, there is no more pretending. You ARE the Emperor’s enforcer.

You ARE the most feared being the galaxy. This costume has intense details borrowed straight from the Star Wars movies, from the moulded helmet to the light up chest-plate. If you’re looking for the ultimate Darth Vader experience, then this is the costume for you.

http://yodaquotes.org/awesome-star-wars-halloween-costumes/

How To Draw  "Star Wars" Helmets

https://www.buzzfeed.com/maritsapatrinos/how-to-draw-darth-vader?utm_term=.ryEp6Q9mrB#.moREJqDyP0

Star Wars Figurine Art

This Artist’s Photographs Of His Star Wars Figurine Are Incredible

“In a galaxy not so far away…"

Darryll Jones, a conceptual artist living in the UK, has spent the last six years taking stunning photos of his Star Wars figurine, Eric the Stormtrooper.

"The concept came about when I moved from South Africa to the UK six years back. I used to photograph landscapes and never realised how freaking cold and dark winter got here", Jones told BuzzFeed. "So I was stuck indoors one night and a little Lego stormtrooper waved to me from my shelf. And that was it."

Jones' side project, Have You Seen Eric, took social media by storm and has seen Eric's popularity grow considerably.

"I was hooked on creating little scenarios, which just got bigger and bigger", he says. "Then Instagram happened and it got out of hand... in a good way". When it comes to working with a figurine, it might just be a little easier than shooting real life humans.

https://www.buzzfeed.com/mikeynicholson/insta-trooper?utm_term=.oePNVPxqAr#.mh4g5xJAPq

Stormtrooper Decanter

Bring a little bit of film history to your spirits collection with this stunning Stormtrooper Decanter! Based on the original moulds from the Shepperton Design Studios, this amazing home accessory is as close as it is possible to get to the original film props. So if your Star Wars fan accepts nothing but the very best, we can think of no better gift than this awesome glass design!

So after long day defending the Galactic Empire, every bucket head wants to hang up their armour, put their feet up and pour themselves a glass of their favourite tipple. But no ordinary bottle will do, it needs to be something with a little dark side. The Stormtrooper Decanter lets every Battalion battler relax at the end of a tough day in style.

This glass design is shaped just like the original Stormtrooper helmets, true to the 1976 original design. Fill with your preferred spirits and wine and add a truly unusual and fun touch to any dinner party! And with a 750ml capacity and topped with a cork seal, there’s more than enough room to let your best liquor aerate!

Stormtroopers Out In Force For Star Wars Festival

The Force was strong in Kerry yesterday as Star Wars fans flocked to the west coast for the first May The Fourth Festival.

Enthusiasts dressed as Darth Vader, a stormtrooper and Chewbacca headed for Skellig Michael, a sheer-sided island 12 miles off the cost that was the location for scenes in the past two films featuring Luke Skywalker and Rey.

The world heritage site was inhabited by monks from about the sixth century until the twelfth, who lived in stone beehive-shaped huts in a monastery clinging to the cliff faces. Now fans are drawn to visit locations from The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi.

https://www.irishexaminer.com/examviral/the-force-is-strong-as-star-wars-fans-head-to-festival-celebrating-sci-fi-saga-in-kerry-841077.html

#BlackStormtrooper

That’s because the official trailer that aired Friday for the next film in the Star Wars saga—The Force Awakens, directed by J.J. Abrams and scheduled for release in December 2015—opens on a black man wearing a stormtrooper’s uniform.

The man, who is played by John Boyega (of Attack the Block), pops into view perspiring and panting hard. He is surrounded by desert: in all likelihood the rolling dunes of Tatooine, the homeworld of both Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader. And he appears to be in trouble.

Maybe the only people more alarmed than Boyega by his circumstances were commenters surprised by the sight of a black man’s head emerging from the white plate armor of an Imperial stormtrooper. People on Reddit compared the trailer to a scene from the 1987 Mel Brooks spoof Space Balls, a gag that plays up a black stormtrooper as jive-talkin’. In other threads and on Twitter, some people registered mere racist shock. But a few corners of the Internet turned to the internal logic of the Star Wars universe to appeal the presence of a black stormtrooper. Didn’t the prequels reveal that all stormtroopers were white clones?

No, they didn't. In Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones, the Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi travels to the secretive planet of Kamino, where he discovers the existence of a clone army that would feed the so-called Clone Wars and eventually serve as the model for the evil Galactic Empire’s stormtrooper infantry. (Spoiler alert: Don’t watch the prequels.) Those clones weren’t white in any sense of the word. Jango Fett, the bounty hunter who served as the genetic template, was culturally (and perhaps ethnically) a Mandalorian. And the actor who portrays him, Temuera Derek Morrison, is a New Zealand-born person of brown skin and partial Maori descent.

Even if Morrison and Fett (and all of his clones) choose to pass as white, by the time of the events of Episode IV: A New Hope, the Empire has been recruiting from general populations for years. That’s why it makes sense that a young Luke Skywalker, lured by a galaxy larger than the humble moisture farm he calls home on Tatooine, dreams of enlisting in the Imperial Navy.

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