#I wrote most of this in the car

[drowninginthoughts27]

Em…this is me formally asking you about bartylily PLEASE

omg thank you for letting me yap!!! sry it took me a bit to type this all out studying for midterms is really taking my focus rn :(

- i’ve said this before but age gap bartylily,,, heavy on older lily and younger barty especially if lily has her whole life together and barty’s a dead beat (it would be so incredibly toxic and messy and i’m totally here for it)

- also rich girl academic burn out lily and rich boy academic barty who are practically 2 sides of the same coin and keep running into each other at all these clubs and party’s, so annoyed by each others presences with no idea why and decide that the best way to combat these emotions is to fuck it out which only results in them purposely attending more and more party’s and clubs that they know the other will be at even if they don’t hook up at the end of the night just because they get to be near each other and the lines just get more and more blurred ofc

- on a far less toxic note tho lily who goes to a top 10 school and has never known anything other than straight A’s and a million extracurriculars meets college drop out bouncing between minimum wage jobs barty who really shows lily how much more to life there is than having a ‘perfect’ life with a high paying job and massive house and a fancy car working 50+ hours a week and at the same time lily shows barty that he’s worth so much love and attention and he hasn’t reached a dead end in his life and that failure isn’t a sign to just give up it but instead means u brush urself off and keep fucking trying oh oh and even better if because of this they aren’t and game but their relationship ends in a positive light with the knowledge that even tho they aren’t each others forever they’re both better because they met each other even if it was just for a short while

- oh also one final thought is that i rarely ever see bartylily as end game i just see them as one of those relationships that happens for a reason that fundamentally change u as a person for better or for worse but u may never see again after u go ur separate ways aside from occasionally just looking them up on social media to make sure they’re ok yk but i had a little thought abt barty x pandora x lily happening at some point or another in at least one story line even if it’s solely for the purpose of sex

i could probably write my thesis on these two but i think that’s enough said for tonight i’m going back to my studying now lol

[the-cooler-kizy-art]

Drew the Hazbin Hotel Cast since A LOONG time ago. I just forgor to show them here

Like the rest of my drawings that i was planning to post here

[yujeong]

Time was at a standstill. Vegas was holding his breath without noticing, and continued to hold it when he did - he was afraid of what would happen if he exhaled loudly enough to draw attention to himself. His gaze was shifting between Pete and the man who was standing before them in the doorway, blocking their entrance. Vegas had never seen him before, but even so, he recognized Pete in him enough to know who he was. A dangerous aura surrounded him. There was an edge to his presence that Vegas would only come across people of certain circles. He was a fighter. A muay khao. Pete's father. Shame coursed through Vegas' body, smearing his skin, settling in his lungs, rendering him speechless. I thought he was dead, he wanted to tell Pete if he could. He wanted to scream at him, I thought you killed him. Pete was the one who broke the stillness. As if awakened by something, he took a half-step back and made a motion with his arms, almost raising them to his chest, but not quite. In an instant, Pete reverted into the pet Vegas had been keeping at the safehouse, bound by handcuffs and afraid of his belt hitting flesh and drawing blood. A lump formed in Vegas' throat. "Have you stopped practicing? Your form is off." The uncanny similarities between Pete and his father appearance-wise didn't mean a thing when it came to their voices. Vegas shivered. Was this what Pete would sound like in a few decades? (Were these the condescending words he'd choose to spew? Was Pete going to embody his father? Was Vegas embodying his?) "What are you doing here?" Pete whispered. "They let me out for a few days, so I came here to collect some money. Imagine my surprise when I found out my offspring left the job someone found him worthy enough of doing to... do what exactly? Yaai didn't want to tell me." He crossed his arms, waiting for an answer. Vegas didn't know what he was allowed to say. If he was allowed to say anything at all. "It's none of your business." "I'd say it very much is my business, as well as yaai's business who was dependent on the money you were making being some rich asshole's human shield." A choked sound scratched Vegas' throat. He didn't like getting reminded of Pete being the main family's bodyguard, even though he stopped being one mere months ago. Especially like this. That was the first time Pete's father stopped looking at his son and turned his head to look at Vegas. For a moment, there seemed to be recognition in his eyes. Did he know who Vegas was? Did he care? A snort came out of his mouth. He leaned on the door. "Oh, I see how it is." He laughed, scratched his neck. "I never expected you to whore yourself out for money. Tell me, is it preferable to the path I carved out for you?" Vegas could sense the disgust in his voice. He could also see it on Pete's face. He was too astonished to share it, but not enough to be unable to speak. "Khun, there has been some misunderstanding-" "Don't bother. I can recognize a faggot when I see one." Pete's movements were too fast for Vegas to stop him. A direct jab to the nose; his father fell like a pack of cards, groaning like a wounded animal. Surprisingly, no blood - Pete held back. Vegas didn't know what to think about that. "That was a pathetic attack, even for you." "Get up." "We're not in the ring, son." Pete growled. Vegas could see his hands trembling as he was keeping them in the air, maintaining an offensive stance. "That never stopped you before." "You were too young to understand what I was doing back then. What I was preparing you for." Pete was silent. "The world isn't kind. It'll fuck you over one way or another." He got up, spat on the ground. "You still haven't learned a thing. You're too old to afford being naive." He turned around, and without sparing a look at Pete again, said: "Now get the fuck out of my house." (For @musictooth, whose posts about Pete's father have reignited my passion for this specific concept and for @wretchedamaranth, whose comments on my writing are always lovely and precious ❤️)

[irlbop]

Imagine, though, that the first three Papas hadn’t been assassinated, and there really was a plan to have them reincorporated into the Ghost Project. Perhaps not as the frontmen audiences were more familiar with, but there was certainly use to be found. The Ministry could be resourceful when it wanted to be, after all.

Primo would probably feel confused at best, fatigues at worst as the memories of touring and strutting about began to reappear in the marrow of his bones. He was far from young when the Ghost Project had been revived under his visage, and he’d certainly not gotten any younger in the decade that had passed since he passed on the position.

Ever the diligent shepherd throughout his life, the eldest Emeritus son had found himself quite enjoying his retirement: It had allowed him more time to rest, more time to tend to his personal passions. Further to the point, though, what more did he have to offer? Ghost had prospered with each succession. As far as he was concerned, he had done his job: It was now up to the Next Guy to keep it going.

But, ever the good son and dedicated brother, he hears out the proposal. The stage may not call him back, but the Church does. And for that, he must listen.

Secondo would furrow his brow, almost reflexively creating a slight sneer. Though, it’s not out of disgust so much as uncertainty. And Secondo is very rarely a hesitant person.

He knew how the Church saw him: Angry, bitter, so on and so forth. The very things that contributed to the decision to end his tenure.

…Well, that, and perhaps his exorbitant spending on the Ministry’s dime. There was only so much he could get away with under the justification of gluttony, lust, and sloth, evidently.

Regardless, though, he found the prospect somewhat suspicious. After he retired the mitre, the Ministry appeared to want little to do with him. The Clergy kept interactions to a minimum, and most paperwork had been designated to other members often before. Most who look forward to his presence are Siblings with an appetite they claimed only he could satiate — and frankly, he was content with that.

He was far from a dullard, but Secondo couldn’t fathom what the Ministry realistically could pull from him at this point. Perhaps, then, “conflicted” is the better expression he wore: Eyes narrowing at the prospect as he pondered what this could mean, quiet anger that they would demand more of him after he had given them plenty, but also curiosity.

And a bit of temptation. Best to hear the details. Perhaps maybe even confirm the perks. He would keep his guard up of course, but maybe he could regain access to the Black Card if he played the right cards…

And then…There’s Terzo. Of the Papas present, he was the most emotionally expressive.

“Prone to fits of flamboyancy,” Primo would muse if he were in a gentler mood.

“A shameless twit with no damn self-control,” Secondo would insistently correct.

If that moment had been someone’s first exposure to Terzo, however, they probably would not have guessed it. He is the picture of calm. Almost ennui. Heterochromatic eyes sit beneath bushy brows, hooded as though the proposal were someone waxing poetry of the gilded lily that was doing taxes.

If someone who did know of Terzo and his antics were to see him, they might have concluded one of two options: That he was either zoning out, fantasizing about all the schlong and balls and pussy he could be investing time in; or he was hungover and/or high and thus not computing a single syllable that tumbled into his ears.

But Terzo was stone-cold sober. And he was hanging on to every word like claws sink into flesh.

The fact of the matter is that yes, Terzo could be loud. He could be showy. He was outspoken, enduring, a consummate performer. But that didn’t mean Terzo was dumb. It was so easy to simplify him down to a happy-go-lucky himbo of some sort that people — even his own brothers — would often forget the bottom line: He was still an Emeritus, born from a line coated in blood and shadow.

And in that moment, the blood and shadows within him were boiling, as though the essence of The Pit had found itself replaced into his mortal form.

In that moment, he was putting those years of breathing exercises to use by tempering his inhales and exhales to feel less heated, less sharp. Without the papal paints to give illusion to his features, his features seemed sharper, but not necessarily menacing. He was white-knuckling it in those gloves he was almost never without, ever thankful that their cloth texture didn’t give away his feelings like the squeak of leather would.

They want them back? They want him back? How about a proper send-off to his papacy first? How about an actual final show, one last thing to give to the followers he’d busted his ass off to give to the Church? An apology card signed by the Clergy, an Edible Arrangement, something!

He brought home a goddamn Grammy. And how did they repay him?

By dragging him off of the stage, mind-song. This was the way the most successful Antipope to date’s reign had ended: Not with a bang, not with a kazoo, but with a whimper.

He had given the Church everything he had: His youth to studies, his adulthood preparing for succession, his mind, body, and soul put to the form of song for them to exploit. He even gave them things he did not actually possess, but dressed up just enough to superficially please them. Yet now they come back, ready to take even more? What was even left in their eyes to snatch, he might’ve wondered beneath it all?

A dark bile flowed through his veins like the Serpent through Eden. And oh, how this domain did love its corruption. That is, except for when it conflicted with what they wanted. And what this church of expression and freedom wanted, as far as Terzo saw it, was control. Power. All that uncreative jazz. You were only as free as they saw fit.

Well. Fine. This church loved serpents so much, why not become what they loved? He could slither pitifully on his belly. He could sit in wait. He could speak honeyed words. He could remind them he was but a soft, simple creature.

He could bite.

What this proposal to reincorporate himself and his brothers foretold, he did not yet know. And it frankly didn’t matter to him: He would take it. He would take it and cradle it and slowly nurture it with his venom until the Ministry would recognize the necrosis developing far too late to stop it.

He was, after all, an Emeritus: The favored bloodline of the Dark One. He was insurrection, he was spite.

“I see…” he uttered, stifling a nonexistent yawn.

“And this…idea that you have: What’s in it for me?”

[that-homoerotic-blouse]

Guess who won a screenwriting filmmaking prize and is also here on tumblr dot com

[vogelmeister]

ITS MY CAP AND GOWN DAY YIPPPPPEEEEEEE

[just-an-enby-lemon]

Carter: As Oscar once said: "everything is about sex, except sex, sex is about power."

Wilde: I never said that!

Carter: Yes, you did!

Barnes: Well that sounds like something you would say.

Wilde: Last time you agreed with Carter that "You don't love someone for their looks, or their clothes, or for their fancy car, but because they sing a song only you can hear" was something I would say. Your opinion does not count.

Barnes: Wait, you didn't say that?

Carter: Nah. I did got that one wrong it was Campbell actually.

Zolf: *who was listening from the side room and entered invoked by Campbell's name* No it wasn't. Campbell isn't a hack.

Carter: Ohoho, Oscar, he called you a hack? Are you gonna let him?

Wilde: You see, he didn't! Because I never wrote that. I never spoke that. And I resent anyone thinking I did.

Barnes: Okay, so who said it?

Carter: I still think it was Oscar.

Wilde: *doing calming breathing exercises*

Barnes: Don't be like that Oscar, Carter is just being himself. In fact, didn't you once said "be yourself, everyone else is already taken"?

Zolf: *who knows that Wilde never said any of this things* *breaks laughing*

Carter: Yeah, it was right after "never love anybody who treats you like you’re ordinary".

Wilde: I hate all of you.

Zolf: Why? Wasn't you the one going "there is only one thing in life worse than being talked about" well we are talking about you.

Wilde: I never... wait... no...I actually did say that one.

[hplonesomeart]

You know I had to do my own rendition of this eventually. It’s just too good to pass up :))

Attached is just the still image version (not gif) and then some behind-the-scenes initial sketch without puzzle pattern. Also the car had a nose for some reason…glad that I went back to the actual reference material to change it because the Puzzlemobile ain’t got one <<

[piratekane]

I'll play the sentence starter game: 13. “Just let me take care of you.” Avatrice obvs. Bonus points if it's Ava saying that to Bea but really whatever you want pls and thank you

On the third day, God created the dry ground, seas, plants, and trees. On the third night, Beatrice has a nightmare.

It doesn't wake Ava at first. Bea isn't thrashing, keening in the moonlight that filters through the dirty window Ava can't quite get the grime off of. But something wakes Ava, an uneasiness that works its way into her dreamless sleep and pulls her from its depths. She blinks at the dark ceiling and she thinks, I'll just go back to sleep, when the hard point of Bea's shoulder comes into focus.

She hears Bea push a single, shaky stream air out and she frowns at the sound, unused to the shift from Bea's steady inhale-exhale. But when her eyes cut to the side, expecting Bea's face, smoothed by sleep, to be facing her - and it's a wonder, to know that Bea is watching her even in her sleep - she finds Bea staring directly at the ceiling instead, eyes wide and unblinking.

Ava lifts up slightly, hair long and tangled around her shoulders. "Bea?"

Beatrice inhales sharply and Ava watches her eyes dart anxiously in her direction, a silent plea that Ava can't quite make out in the darkness. She starts to come further into focus: shoulders pulled up to her ears, knuckles white where her hands twist the sheets, body coiled tight enough to make Ava want to scream, a wet streak down from the corners of her eyes where they fall into her hair.

"Bea," she whispers.

The halo hums mournfully in her skin. She lifts a hand slowly, her palm hovering in the space between them before she eases those few inches closer to Bea. Dark eyes track her fingers nervously. "Bea, breathe."

But just as her fingers set to land - a whole palm to where Bea's heart is surely beating a hundred miles a second, if the wild look in her eyes matches the racing in her chest - Bea's mouth opens in a wide gasp that steals the air out of the room and out of Ava's lungs. Bea's body bends, legs kick out, hands twist in the sheets, hair whips into the air and then there's nothing but the sound of quick feet moving out of the bedroom and into the bathroom.

She's alone.

The bathroom door doesn't slam - Beatrice has too much restraint for that. But it can't muffle the sound as a body sinks back against the door and to the floor. Ava doesn't think twice, doesn't think about Bea's privacy, and slips out of bed after her. She slows down the last few steps before the bathroom door and stops just in front of it, hand hovering over the handle.

She doesn't know what to do. She's seen movies, heard stories, about comforting people. There are basic principles she thinks probably come naturally to her; she could always make Diego smile. But Beatrice is unlike anyone Ava has ever met before. There has to be a special way to navigate this, a certain trick she needs to try. She hasn't met many people, can count the ones who know her on two hands and two feet, but Bea is... not them.

So she presses her hand to the door and slowly sits down, twisting so her back is against it. She imagines Bea on the other side, sitting like she's sitting, forehead against her knees, arms wrapped around her legs.

"You don't have to say anything." Bea doesn't. "But... you don't have to hide around me. I know that I... I know that I seem like I might not be able to handle things, but I can. I want to."

She presses the point of her chin into the point of her knee; lets the pain flare for a second before the halo eases it away. "I know things have been... I know things aren't good. That we're hiding until they get better, but we have to rely on each other. It's just us, Bea. We're all each other has. And you've been... You've been so good to me. If I have to hide away here... There isn't any one else I want to do it with."

There's a sniffle, a slight scratch. Ava feels it bolster her.

"You told me to trust my team and you're my team. You're the only part of it I have left. You're..." She tries to quell this rushing feeling in her chest, but it threatens to ebb over anyway. "I'm glad it's you, though," she admits. "Because every step of the way, you've taken care of me. You've always made sure I was okay. It's like you already know when I need you."

No one has ever cared about me like that before stays unspoken between them. She's sure Bea knows.

"But I can be that person for you too. You can... you can lean on me. I'm here." Her voice shakes a little, the truth a little too much for her not to waver on. "I want to be your rock, because you're mine."

She takes a deep and turns, pressing her forehead to the solid wood. She hears quiet shuffling on the other side, pictures Bea rising up onto her knees as she reaches for the knob. "Bea, please," she breathes. "Let me take care of you."

The door opens.

[imagoddamnonionmason]

Smooth Operator

Fandom: Call of Duty: Black Ops Cold War

Word Count: 6112

Relationships: Bell OC/Frank Woods, Alex Mason/OC

Characters: Frank Woods, Alex Mason, Jodie Hall, Sarah Mason

Summary: This is an AU based off of the biker skin of Frank's from the Demon Dog bundle. It is probably my favourite skin and wanted to write something based off of it - however, the ideas I had didn't settle in the 'canon' world I have planned for Jodie, my Bell OC, so decided to do an AU instead. Essentially, he's a bit of a flirt and Jodie is just trying to work XD but it ends well!

Tagging: @alypink (I think I remember saying I'd tag you when I posted this- sorry if not ;u;)

The diner was a common stop for those who were on a lengthy journey, whether that be roadtrips or days out. Everyone who entered those double doors were patrons who had been on the road for too long and were in need of something to fuel the rest of their journey. 

The two men rode into the car park, having been riding the dips and occasional twists of the road for a little longer than anticipated and though Frank could have continued riding for longer, he agreed with Alex that a quick break wouldn’t hurt. 

The parking was easy, as they rolled their bikes into smaller bays near the front of the diner, pulling their helmets off and leaving them on the seats. Frank ran his fingers through his hair, ruffling away the flatness that the helmet had caused. His eyes moved over to his friend, who was already walking to the entrance. Pulling down the red neckerchief to rest under his chin, Frank said, “we’re only stoppin’ for a coffee.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I hear ya,” Alex waved over his shoulder, knowing full well that he was not only stopping for a coffee, but for a catch up with his favourite girl, Sarah. They’d met at that same diner months prior, on a different outing, and the two had been on a couple of dates. Frank knew he’d most likely end up getting caught there, watching the two chat away, being young and in love. He was happy for the guy, the girl seemed really sweet, but he wanted a coffee and then to get back on the road. 

Once the two were inside, he caught Alex scanning the space for the young woman in the corner of his eye and he couldn’t help the shake of his head. It seemed Sarah wasn’t out front yet. 

“Strange,” Alex commented, “she’s supposed to be working.” 

“You sound like a stalker,” Frank uttered, moving over to a booth in the corner - it was far enough away from the judgemental eyes of others, though he couldn’t give two shits about what other people thought, he just didn’t like people.

“I’d like to think I sound concerned,” Alex retorted, slumping into the seat opposite Frank, who was sitting in the seating that connected to the wall. He was watching everything, eyes narrow and hawk-like. 

It wasn’t long before a young woman came to stand at their table, a smile on her features that most definitely did not reach her eyes. It was forced and strained, like she had already decided that she hated the interaction before she’d even had it. She was a new face and the crisp new uniform made clear that she was a new waitress. It was a pale yellow pinafore that stopped just before the knees, accented with a  wide white rounded collar, short sleeves with a peaked trim and an apron. From the pockets of the apron, this woman pulled a small pad of paper and a pencil, holding them ready for an order. Even her tone signalled that she pulled no pleasure from the job, “what do you want?” 

Frank liked her immediately. 

He leant back into the seat, relaxed, as an enamoured smile grew on his lips, eyes lighting up a little. Alex spotted this, fighting the urge to kick Frank’s foot under the table and destabilise his current position, if only to torment the other in the face of his apparent attraction. Rather than reply himself, Alex let his friend do it, instead opting to peer over his shoulder and give the room a once-over again, still looking for Sarah. 

“Two coffees,” Frank answered, “are you new around here?” 

“Two coffees,” she echoed, scribbling it down on the pad, as she puffed a stray strand of hair that had fallen from her updo, “will you want sugar and milk?” 

Her eyes moved from the pad to look at Frank and it seemed to him that she didn’t care for his question. Honestly, she hadn’t really wanted to come over to serve them, if only because she had certain expectations influenced by their attire; they looked like they had ridden straight out of a biker gang and from what she had heard they were not the most civil of people. It’s why she was being so abrasive. 

“Sure,” he said, his elbow now resting on the table and his knuckles just resting at his temple as he leaned, his eyes steadily watching how she moved. She was beautiful, in a way that seemed effortless for her, from her reddened lips, the long lashes, the slight creases of dimples at the corners of her mouth when she spoke. Even as she stood, hip cocked out to one side as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, all he could think about was how attractive she was. 

What caught him the most, though, were her eyes. They were a dark brown, with small flecks of honey, and when they were on him he felt a warmth rush over him. They were soft, kind, with a slight sense of tiredness clinging to the hue. He didn’t want her to look away. 

Maybe he could understand Alex a little more; though Frank thought that he only wanted the fun of the chase. 

“Would you like the same?” she now moved her eyes from him and that warmth left, now shared with Alex who hummed in response to her. He hadn’t fully caught the question, but offered her an easy smile before he realised what had been asked. She seemed a little softer on the other, as she let out a little sigh and waited patiently. Alex replied, “neither for me.” 

“Alright,” she hummed, offering that tight smile from before, “do either of you want anything from the menu?” 

“What do you recommend?” Frank asked, turning his body so that he was now fully engaged with speaking with her. 

“If I’m honest, the only thing that’s good here are the waffles.” She admitted, then looked him up and down, “but you don’t seem like the waffle kind of guy.” 

“You’d be right,” Frank admitted, laughing slightly, “I’ll stick with the coffee.” 

The smile she wore relaxed a little and she offered it to Frank somewhat apologetically; she hadn’t really meant to be so blunt. When she turned to Alex, he offered that he was also fine with only the coffee. With the order taken, she stepped back and tapped her pencil to the pad a couple times, before she turned on her heel and left.

As she walked away, Frank watched after her, a mischievous look in his eye as though he’d made a decision about something. Alex knew his friend well, knew that he’d decided he was going to leave with that woman’s number, which caused him to laugh, “that’s not goin’ to happen, Frank.” 

“What do you know?” His response was quick, accentuated with the slight furrow of his brows as he tugged on the neckerchief around his neck. 

“I know that you’re goin’ to get rejected by that woman over there,” Alex jutted his thumb out in her direction, as they both peered over at her again. 

She was now settled behind the counter, working away at brewing their coffee. To her right, the doors that lead into the kitchen opened and Sarah appeared. The smaller woman was chipper, but in the way that a person was using it to hide the tiredness that wracked their body and though some might find the compensation a little annoying, the new waitress seemed to relax once this bright presence joined her at her side. 

“Sorry for leavin’ you to deal with the floor for that long,” Sarah chirped, giving the woman’s arm a quick reassuring squeeze, “who’ve we got in then, Jodie?” 

Jodie kept her attention on the coffee pot, but answered Sarah’s question, “there’s a family on table eight, they weren’t ready to order when I greeted them, so you might want to try them next. Table thirteen has a couple, their order is in the kitchen.” 

Once the coffee was finished brewing, she grabbed the pot as well as two empty mugs, “then this is for the two guys at table 20, over in the corner.” Using her head to indicate the direction, Jodie added, “I think one of them is going to try to flirt.” 

“Oh dear,” Sarah followed her, then spotted Alex and, by extension, Frank, “oh dear.” 

A warm, mirthful smile formed on her lips as a giggle bubbled in her throat. Sarah leant toward Jodie, who naturally ducked her head closer as she anticipated her friend’s whispering, “that’s the guy I was tellin’ you about, you know, the one that…” 

“Oh?” Jodie moved away to look at Sarah’s face, brows furrowed as she silently questioned her meaning. The smaller woman raised an eyebrow as she bit her lip, impishly. Jodie then remembered a conversation they had a bit back, about a little visit Sarah had received and what they had gotten up to, “Sarah!” 

“Isn’t he handsome?” Sarah responded, leaning on the countertop and sighing dreamily, before she snapped out of it to add with a shrug, “Frank’s not too bad lookin’, either, sweetheart, he seems like he’d be your type.” 

“My type,” Jodie scoffed, “my type is not… that.” She had gestured in the men’s general direction, eyes casting over them as she then caught herself focusing on the man in question. From there, she couldn’t see how one would think he was anything like the kind of person she would go for. He looked like a delinquent, someone who made mischief for the sake of it. No, she couldn’t find him attractive. 

“Oh, come on, Jodie,” Sarah heaved dramatically, “if he’s flirtin’ with you there ain’t no harm in flirtin’ back. It’s how Alex and I started datin’.” 

Jodie chuckled, “you can have them. Save me the pain because I’m not flirting.” 

“I think I’ll let you keep ‘em,” Sarah said, nudging the other’s shoulder with her own as her tone lilted teasingly, “just have fun with it, you’ll be fine.” 

“Sarah, I’m not going to flirt-” 

“I’m headin’ over to table eight, honey,” she grinned as she moved away before Jodie could protest further, then offered a slight wave over towards Alex and Frank. Alex waved back, then ducked his head to hide the smile on his face. Jodie watched this interaction, remaining standing behind the counter with the pot of coffee and mugs in hand, wishing that Sarah could have left her with the family. 

She looked over to the men once again and at the same time Frank turned to look at her. He was mid conversation with his friend, but his words were then enveloped by the smile on his face. In response to him, she scrunched up her nose, refusing to give in to his charm. So what if he was flirting, or smiling at her? She didn’t care. Jodie was just there to serve coffee and earn money.

At the table, Jodie placed the mugs down first, then the coffee pot. As she did these things, she felt his eyes watching her as steadily as they had when she’d first spoken with them. He spoke, voice erring with a gruffness that Jodie felt could only suit him, “what do we call you, doll?” 

“Not that,” she replied, hotly, as she gently slid over one of the mugs to Alex. She had decided that he wasn’t so bad, given that he was dating her friend; if he was good enough for Sarah, Jodie felt like she could cut him some slack. She received a smile in return as thanks. 

“Well I can’t call you nothin’, can I?” he replied. 

“You could,” she replied, sliding his mug to him sharply. Frank caught it quickly, then shot her a mischievous grin. 

“I’ll just have to stick with doll then, won’t I?” 

Her eyes locked with his momentarily and she pursed her lips. Now that Sarah had pointed it out, Jodie hated to admit that he was, unfortunately, attractive. His eyes were sharp, icy blue and the devilish glint in them had her heart in the beginning motions of a flutter. It could have been the slight edge to his tone, daring her to protest against him. It could have been the way his tongue flickered over his bottom lip before he started talking to her, drawing her eyes down to them, captured- 

 No. Jodie was not paid to flirt. She was paid to serve coffee and tea and shitty diner food. She was not going to flirt with him. 

“Enjoy your coffee,” she said, sharply, then offered Alex a little smile, “if you need anything, shout Sarah.” 

Before Frank had time to counter, she was walking away and Alex laughed out loud. He had poured himself a mug, the steam momentarily obscuring his vision of Frank, but he could imagine the look on his face. When he finally checked if his assumption was right, he was surprised by the fact that Frank was so obviously watching her ass. A kick from Alex snapped Frank from his current task of watching her swinging hips, so that he could then watch his friend silently laugh at him, “time to give up, buddy.” 

With a slight grimace, Frank side-eyed Alex, a look of disdain on his features. There was a slight shake of his head, then he checked the tabletop for the milk and sugar he’d asked for; the table was vacant of these things. 

“Seems like I have one more chance,” Frank uttered, “then and only then will I take the loss.” 

Alex rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue, as he then followed the image of his friend’s retreating form. He shook his head, though there was a fond mirth to the crease of his eyes that formed when he found himself grinning. As he rested an arm over the back of the booth’s seating, he caught the eye of Sarah, who in turn was grinning from ear to ear at the sight of Frank at the counter. She waved her hand giddily to Alex, jutting her thumb in their direction before she dramatically put her hand to her chest in shock. Alex shrugged in response, before he turned back to finish his coffee. 

At the counter, Jodie was spritzing the surface with cleaner, then sweeping in large circles to clean the countertop. Really, this was to make herself look busy, as she had seen movement in the corner of her eye. Frank had come to lean against the counter, one arm resting on the surface as his free hand hooked into his pocket. He cleared his throat, the ghost of a smirk on his face. 

“What do you want?” She asked, heaving a sigh and resting the knuckles of her hands on her hips, still holding a cloth in one hand. 

“So cold,” he said, “ya like this with all your customers?” 

“Not all of them,” she replied, returning to cleaning, “just some.” 

“I feel honoured,” he chuckled. 

“Don’t,” she pursed her lips, before she added, “if you came over here just for a chat, I’ll have to disappoint-”

“Actually, I came over because you forgot the extras.” He admitted, pointing to the milk and sugar that had been set aside by the coffee machine. Her eyes followed the guidance, then she sucked air in quickly between her teeth. 

Apologetically, she gathered them, then offered them to him by sliding them across the counter to him, “sorry about that. Is there anything else you’d like?” 

Hovering in place, his eyes reluctantly dropped from her face and down to the milk, offered in a little pot, and sugar packets. Then he looked back up at her; there was that same impish glint in his eyes, the subtle uplift of the corner of his mouth as he wrapped his knuckles on the counter’s surface. He wondered whether he should take his last shot, even if he risked being rejected by the beautiful woman. 

“Yeah, actually,” he decided, watching her features for any furtive tell that he had the go ahead to ask. The slight quirk of her brows, thrown up in an urge for him to continue had him adding, “I really would like to put a pretty name to a pretty face, doll. Maybe even a number.” 

Jodie slapped the cloth in her hand down on the counter, looking up at the other with a slight twitch to the corner of her eyes, as they narrowed on him coolly. Honestly, he was charming, handsome, anyone would have swooned already, but Jodie had come too far to let herself collapse in the face of his allure. She was too prideful. So, she countered, heaving the words through and past her teeth as her eyes dropped down to his lips again. They flickered away, down to her hands, to anywhere other than him. Her tone was clipped, “if I had a dollar for every time a man like you asked me for my number, I wouldn’t have to work here.” 

“JODIE.” A gruff voice from the kitchen shouted, the tones howling and grieved with annoyance. There was a look on her face that signalled she’d prefer to do anything than go back there and face whoever was yelling, but when her name was called again, harsher this time, she shouted back, “yes! I heard you.” 

Turning on her heel, she called out to Sarah, “will you watch the floor?” 

“I got’cha, girl,” Sarah hollered in her southern tones, though she was watching after the double doors once Jodie had disappeared through them. Moving between the tables, Sarah then came to stand beside Frank, nudging his arm slightly, “her plate’s pretty full.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“She’s also ain’t used to pretty guys flirtin’ with her,” Sarah chuckled, “you got her all flustered.” 

“Right…” Frank became acutely aware that there were raised voices coming from the back, too muffled to really understand what was being said. He asked, “that a manager yellin’ or somethin’ back there?” 

“Oh, that guy?” Sarah began walking back to Frank’s booth with him, eyes watching the other patrons to make sure no one wanted her attention, before she came to stand beside Alex. He was still seated, but soon snuck his hand around her upper legs, hand resting on her hip. Both of the men signalled they were listening to her, Alex quickly catching up with what they were talking about. 

“Oh, he’s an asshole,” Sarah mentioned, “always yellin’. He just likes to feel special, you know? He takes out any stress on us girls, though.”

“Really?” Alex questioned, looking up at the woman with a slight surprise on his face, as this was the first time he was hearing about the problem. 

“Yeah, I worked here long enough to tell him where he can put his attitude,” she leant forward a little bit, “but Jodie ain’t been here too long, so he thinks he can get away with it. Tell you what, I never seen a waitress get called back there as much as her… I feel sorry for her most of the time and there ain’t nothin’ I can do about it.” 

Frank let his eyes rest on Alex for a moment, lips pursed in a contemplative look, as Alex seemed to share the same thought; neither of them liked what they were hearing. 

There was a clatter that drew the attention of everyone in the diner, as the double doors from the kitchen flung open in a fury. Jodie, who held a coat folded over her arm, a bag over her right shoulder and car keys handing on her fingers, was storming through the diner and out into the car park. Whatever had been discussed had bought an early end to her shift and left her features set in a furious storm. 

“Oh dear,” Sarah grumbled, as Alex rubbed circles on her hip, “he’s gone and done it again…” 

“Need me to have a word?” Frank uttered, bitterly, watching as Jodie got into her car and drove away. 

“He’s not the kinda guy that’s gonna change,” she huffed. 

Catching Frank’s gaze, Alex’s jaw was set, tense, “we can be persuasive.” 

A slight tap to his shoulder and she was gently chiding him, “you stop that. I ain’t havin’ any of that here, got it?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Sarah, do I pay you to stand around and do nothing?” That same voice from the back was now at the counter, near the till, and it belonged to a short, portly, balding man who was sweating buckets. He wiped his brow, before he gestured aggressively for her to move away from the men and get back to work. 

Alex’s arm was no longer around her, as he had started to rise up from his seat; Frank made no move to stop him. Sarah, however, was urging him to sit back down and only when she made sure he was looking at her, a nod of her head to say that she was fine, did Alex do just that. But not before he sent the manager a very hard, cold stare. 

________

From that point on, the diner felt tense, strange. Half an hour had passed and Frank decided it was time to leave, though Alex waited behind for his partner. He’d mentioned that he didn’t feel comfortable leaving her alone, that he wanted to make sure she got home safely; Frank had scoffed, commenting something along the lines of ‘ever the gentleman’ in a good natured jab. 

 So, after saying bye, Frank had headed from the diner, from the shitty manager and his friends by himself, traversing the road alone. It stretched for miles and eventually there was a small blot of colour on the oncoming horizon of what seemed to be a broken down vehicle. For a moment, Frank felt sorry for the poor bastard who’d got stuck at the side of the road, but had no intention of stopping. It was their problem, after all, not his. 

His mind remained unwavering, at least until he was close enough to recognise the vehicle. There was smoke whispering from the open bonnet, hands waving it away before the body they were attached to moved into view. He almost smirked, but forced that away as he identified the woman as Jodie. Her face was contorted into a sharpened grimace, brows so tightly knitted together that it looked like an oncoming headache. 

A concerned feeling pooled in his gut and Frank faltered in his intention to ride by. By the time he was at her position at the roadside, he was slowly coming to a stop. Once he had, he remained seated, though leant back slightly as his gloved hands dropped from the handles of the Harley-Davidson and into his lap. After a split second, he was quick to pull his red-lensed goggle up and onto his spiked helmet and tug his red neckerchief under his chin. 

“You alright there, doll?” He settled on asking, watching her steadily.

Jodie had halted in her pacing, as a hand raked through her hair, which was now set free from its earlier updo. Her fingers massaged circles into her scalp, bidding the headache that niggled at the edges of her mind to go away. It wasn’t. 

She snapped, “are you stalking me?” 

“Not at all,” he replied, then gestured to her car, “I can take a look.” 

Hovering at the side of her dead car, Jodie set him with a dubious glance. She supposed it wouldn’t hurt to take him up on his offer, but given their earlier interactions, part of her wondered what the conditions were. When he made no move to get up, to force her to accept his offer, she slowly nodded her head; only then did he kick out the stand on his bike, leave his belongings on the seat and move towards her. 

“This happened before?” He asked, as he came to stand beside her. As he looked down, he noticed that her eyes were a little reddened, as was the tip of her nose. He didn’t mention it, even if he was curious to know whether his assumptions were correct. She seemed like the kind of person too prideful to admit she had been crying - he was the same. Not that he’d ever cried… or so Frank would have everyone think. 

“Uh,” Jodie distractedly scratched at her brow, before screwing her eyes closed in an effort to formulate a sentence, “yeah. There was an issue with the timing belt, so I took it to a mechanic, he said he’d fixed the issue but, clearly…” 

Her hand halfheartedly waved towards the vehicle and Frank nodded along, before he leant over the engine to start his inspection. In all honesty, Jodie wondered if the mechanic had replaced the timing belt with another faulty one, or if she really was just that unlucky to have broken down again. It might not even be the same issue, but given the awful sound and screeching the car had made before coming to an abrupt halt, she believed she was facing another timing belt issue. Which was just great, that was another expense she couldn’t afford. 

A heavy sigh passed her lips, as she moved away to let Frank do whatever he wanted. Look as he might, he wasn’t going to be able to fix anything. Jodie was certain of it. Still, she supposed it was nice of him to stop by and try. It was more than what some other people had done when she’d tried to flag them down. 

“Sounds like he screwed you over,” Frank commented lightly, as he continued to inspect. He was being thorough, making sure that every inch was checked over, just in case there were multiple issues. 

As he did this, he asked, “are you good?” 

“What?” Jodie asked, eyes moving to him from her dazed state. She had been hovering just behind him, eyes not really focused on anything in particular, ears humming with a ringing pitch as a headache began to form in the forefront of her head. She had even sniffled a couple of times, still recovering from the few frustrated tears she had shed once she realised her situation at the side of the road. 

“Are you good?” He repeated, stopping in his movements to shoot her a brief look over his shoulder. He tried his best to seem less abrupt with his tone, but he wasn’t too sure if he achieved that. He did notice that her hardened stare softened when she recognised what he’d said, a slight flicker of gentle shock passing her eyes. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked in return, arms folding over her chest as her eyes darted down to her feet. Using the tip of her white trainers, she rolled a stone over and over on the same spot, until she got bored of doing so and kicked it away. 

Frank’s voice was a little muffled as he had returned his attention to the engine, but his words still reached her, “ain’t none of my business, but your boss could learn how to treat a woman properly.” 

“Oh…” She grew a little tense, “yeah. I suppose he could.” 

“There ain’t no supposin’.” Frank leant his hands on the lip of the car, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He cocked his head to one side, releasing tension in the muscles, before he decided to straighten up. He continued, “does he speak like that to you often?” 

There was a moment that Jodie just found herself watching him, their eyes interlocked in a silent conversation, and she wasn’t entirely sure whether revealing the truth to him was the right thing to do. After all, he was a stranger to her and why would a stranger want to know anything about her, no less about her boss’ attitude towards her. 

She broke eye contact first, turning her body an angle away from him. Her eyes settled on the road, the vast long, stretching road which was vacant of any oncoming traffic. There were not even specs on the horizon. Jodie focused on this road while she contemplated saying something, admitting that she really hated the way she was spoken to, like she was nothing but shit that her boss had stepped in. 

He was a stranger… 

A sigh passed her lips, then she was turning back to him, arms moving to hang at her sides before she offered, “he does.” 

Frank was now half leaning against the car, his arms over his chest, hands grabbing at his upper arms. His lips were pursed, piercing blue eyes settled on a spot on the ground, just in front of where Jodie stood. He nodded once, as though he had decided on something, then spoke again, “just you?” 

“No, Sarah, too.” Jodie said, “but she handles it.”

“So I’ve heard,” he muttered, but still, it left a bitter taste on his tongue. Part of him wished Sarah had let Mason knock some sense into the guy. 

“If Sarah asked you to-”

“She hasn’t asked me to do anything,” he interjected. 

Jodie went quiet. 

“Your timing belt is fucked, by the way,” he added. 

“What?” She was at his side in an instant, head ducked down to take a sweeping look at her engine; she wasn’t entirely sure what she would be looking for, but look she did. It gave her something to do as her thoughts began to race through her head. 

Jodie’s brows furrowed together tightly in a scrutinising frown as he pointed to the timing belt, which was not looking like it should. A groan left her and her hands came to rest against her features; her sight was darkened by her palms and it was a nice reprieve from the glaring sun of the day. Now if only there was a way she didn’t have to stand around in the heat, sweat growing slick on the back of her neck. 

“I can’t believe this,” she grumbled.  

Frank moved to close the bonnet of the car with a thud, hearing it click back into place satisfyingly and he was then stood by her, a little closer than originally intended, and her shoulder gently brushed against his chest. Upon feeling him so close, her hands shot down from hiding her face and she was peering up at him. 

She wanted to cry, to kick her car, to slam her fist into the nearest thing, as her frustration built up in her chest; instead, all she did was force a restful look on her face, fight against the emotion, and bit her lip in tense thought. 

He watched her carefully, one brow raised; it seemed that his decision from earlier needed to be voiced now. 

“Get on, I’m taking you to town.” He said this as he walked away, a gloved hand tapping her arm to spark her attention to him and by extension his ride. He arrived at his bike by the time she was spinning on her heel, giving him a look of incredulity. 

“Wait, what? Who says?” She demanded. 

He chuckled, plucking his helmet from the seat, holding it just out in front of him as he checked it over, “I do.” 

“You didn’t even ask.” She huffed, exasperated, hands gesturing out to his motorbike. He took the opportunity to place his helmet in her outstretched hand, which she took for fear of it clattering to the floor and becoming damaged. 

“Do you want me to ask?”

Jodie held the helmet close to her chest, unsure of whether she should say yes, or no, or nothing at all. All the while, he was mounting the bike, adjusting his position and kicking up the stand. 

“It would have been nice.” 

“Alright,” he started the bike, the sound of it deep rumbling resonating in Jodie’s body, “will you get on? I’m taking you to town.” 

“That’s not what I-”

He shot her a charming smile, as he interjected, “if you think I’m leavin’ you at the side of the road for some nut to pick you up, think again, doll.”

A sigh left her, head ducked down to hide the slight smile tugging at the corner of her lips - the smile had struck a chord in her heart and she thought back to what Sarah had said. Yeah, maybe he was her type… dammit. 

Jodie pulled the helmet on, stepping up to the bike as she fastened the straps. Then, she was settling into the seat behind him, as she then internally panicked about where to put her hands. Did she wrap her arms around him? Or grab his jacket? Were there handles on the sides of the seat? 

“You need to hold on,” he commented, “don’t wanna lose you.” 

“Uh, ok,” she held onto his jacket. 

Before he set off, Frank tugged his neckerchief back over his lower face, hiding a mischievous smirk that started to grow on his lips. 

Holding on to me like that ain’t gonna do, he thought to himself, as he checked the road and pulled out. In an instant, he was hiking up the speed and the jolt of it caused Jodie to slip backwards. Instinctively, her arms wrapped around his body, clinging tightly as her body was now flush against his back. 

With their closeness, Jodie could feel the vibration of his chuckle in his chest and felt a slight pat on her hands from one of his own. Over the sound of the roaring engine, the rush of the wind, she said, “you did that on purpose.” 

“I told you to hold on, didn’t I?” 

But, yes, Frank most definitely did that on purpose. 

The ride was relatively smooth, though there were occasions where their speed would increase or Frank would take a turn a little sharp and his self-indulgent grin would grow whenever he felt the woman cling to him that little bit tighter. Every so often, he would catch Jodie resting her head against his shoulder and he would sneak glances at her through the side mirrors. As they arrived at the town, Frank felt his heart dropping a little, not wanting to quite let things be over yet. But, they had to, as the mechanic’s workshop came into view. 

The bike slowed to a stop and Frank held it steady as Jodie climbed off. He kept his gaze on her as she removed his helmet and she held it in her hands for a little longer than was necessary. She seemed to be thinking about something and he enjoyed how her lips pursed gently in her thought. 

“There anythin’ else I can do?” he asked. 

“Yeah, actually,” the ghost of a smile appeared on her features. As she offered his helmet back, she added, “just wait here.” 

Frank did exactly that after he took his helmet back, placing it on his head that then cocked to the side as he watched her walk away, a slight urgency to her steps. Moments later, she was rushing back out to him with a small, neatly folded slip of paper in her hand. With a very sheepish look, she offered it out to him, eyes unable to meet his own. 

“What’s this?” he asked, unable to hide the teasing lilt to his tone as he took the paper between his index and middle fingers. Crossing her arms in response, she murmured, “open it up and you’ll find out.” 

He did and written in very neat, slightly cursive handwriting was a full name and a number. Frank read it once, then twice, then peered up at her, noticing the slight red to the tips of her ears and cheeks. Was she flustered? 

“Well Miss Hall,” he started, tucking that paper away in his breast pocket for safe keeping, which he patted twice. His tone then became graced with concern, “will you be alright?” 

With a nod of her head, she offered, “I think I’ve got it from here.” 

The two idly waved goodbye and Jodie remained stood as she watched Frank leave. The roar of the bike slowly faded down in decibels until she could no longer hear it and she let herself smile widely. 

“You still need me, darlin’?” Came the cutting voice of the mechanic, who snapped her from her thoughts. 

She turned to face him, moving towards the workshop as she said, “yeah, coming!” 

Her mind, though, was still occupied with Frank and she was left feeling like a giddy schoolgirl.

[the-eclectic-wonderer]

5, 18 & 19 for the fanfic ask!

Hello and thank you for the questions!!

5. first sentence of the fifth paragraph of an unpublished WIP

“I have to say, Blanche,” Rose says, settling back against Blanche’s side, “I know you explained it to me, but I still don’t get it.”

18. if you keep them, share a deleted sentence or paragraph from a published fic

I don't really keep deleted sentences/paragraphs, unless they're full concepts for a scene that I might want to use in another WIP, but I did find a couple of sentences from an early draft of i would have said impossible [...] that got heavily edited by the final cut. I'll bold the parts that got kept in the final work:

"She likes to think she hid it well. She tried to, at least; bit back the most acidic jokes, tried to keep a hold on her sarcasm. It's not her roommates' fault if she's had a bad day, is it? So she tries. She listens, and she's patient, and she's affectionate -- and they seem happy. That must count as a success.

And yet, when she's finally alone in her room and ready to call it a night -- then Rose comes, carrying tea and cookies on a tray.

It's strange. She told Ma earlier that she'd like to be alone tonight, and before the door opened she only wanted to get into bed and forget everything until tomorrow morning. Then Rose came in, and she'd be lying if she said a single hint of her perfume and a single glance at her reassuring smile aren't enough to calm her nerves."

The gist of the passage remained more or less the same, but I hope it counts anyway!

19. the most interesting topic you’ve researched for a fic

I'm not sure I can choose the most interesting one -- I love learning and I've had a lot of fun with every rabbit hole I've found myself in for a fic! The most charming one, though, was definitely the little ornithology detour I went on while I was writing sonata for trio, which was a classic case of 'I only needed to find the right simile to add in this sentence, how the hell did I end up on the Wikipedia page for the American Robin?'. I learned a lot, and birds are so cute -- especially robins!! I had a great time reading about them :)

(I'm not counting my research on karst and sinkholes as a valid answer for this questions, because I already knew the topic well enough, but I did spend a lot of time fact-checking what I wrote. I don't want to spread misinformation!)

[✍️ more fic writer asks!]

[doedipus]

a large amount of time I've been spending on -untitled undefined scope original fiction project- since the last time I posted about it has been trying to develop the protagonist concept I came up with last summer or whatever into like, a character that would feel real and era appropriate.

it's fun research to do. naturally a lot of the details I assigned to her are things that I already think are cool, so it's been a lot of fun trying to trace her traits back through the relatively recent past, getting reminded of how much things have changed, or where the gaps in my intuition are, and then doing a flurry of reading to get a sense for exactly how someone like her and the people around her could have happened and what her life was probably like leading up to her present day. hopefully this results in some good good verisimilitude.

[imagineitdearies]

How’s the writing? 😊

Hey braintwin 😊🩵

First, the abridged version: It’s getting somewhere!!

But this question comes at a great time, because I’ve been wanting to give a more in-depth update for you followers anyway! After finishing Perfect Slaughter, I took about a month break from intensive writing, outlining, or even much brainstorming, though I already had the idea for Circle of Sixths by then (hopeful prostitute meets world weary vampire in a suck-for-hire situation, lol). And when I got back into it at the start of August, there was just so much world building to do that my actual writing came at a snail’s pace, and for way too long a period for my liking. Fanfic really spoils you in that regard 😮‍💨

For the last 2.5 months, however, I finally had my world established enough to start getting into the good shit. I completed my goal (10 chapters) so I could start the beta process, and over the last 3 weeks have started getting great encouraging but constructive feedback on the first six chapters! It’s been super cool to finally share it with a few people, even if for the purpose of curbing my excessive comma usage lol.

The goal is to have the first draft entirely done by the end of the year, which means about 6-8 more chapters according to my outline. Though I’d settle for just knocking out 5 chapters before my girlfriend flies in post-Christmas and my attention goes out the window lolol. I’ve been stuck on chapter 11 for the last two weeks thanks to work + holiday travel (at this very moment, I’m writing on my phone whilst laying on an air mattress in my sister’s living room 😂), so we’ll see. The good news is I’m not writing any more major articles for my day job for the rest of the year, so I should in theory have more bandwidth for my personal goals and bigger dreams🙏

Until then, I’m typing a couple paragraphs on my phone each night and hope to sneak in some progress on my flight home Sunday! A writer’s gotta write 😉

Thanks for this ask my friend 🩵🩵

[fluffypotatey]

While i do think shadowpeach never actually fell out of love despite everything (well at least macaque definitely) , what do you think their reaction would be when they realized they no longer loved the other? Cause i do feel a small part of them would feel grief about something they had and treasured for so long

And to keep from being too sad, what is their reaction at inevitably falling back in love. That i think would involved lots of cursing at the gods and tearing out hair

anon, i just want to let you know that i did prepare an answer for you, and it was a lengthy one as well. but last night the internet for my house wasn’t working, so when i hit post, my screen froze and couldn’t refresh until this morning, making me lose everything i wrote T^T BUT! i will do my best to reanswer this to the best of my abilities (and it was a good fucking answer too 🫠)

thus:

so, ignoring my gut reaction (which is me shouting, “impossible! those monkeys are too attached to lose feelings!”) I will consider the following but have my own spin to it! meaning, that while both believe they’re live for the other faded away, it in fact was dormant this whole time! (because i am incapable of seeing a world where either or both idiots fall out of love for the other)

also, fun tidbit: both idiots believe the other fell out of love first which then prompts them into trying to ignore and bury their affections bc if “X can easily set aside their centuries old relationship, then so can I!”

with Wukong, the guy has more time to truly process the grief and loss bc he actually has the time and companions to help him out. you have Ao Lie and Wukong cuddling more, Wukong crying to Guanyin (bc their relationship is fun in JTTW and I am still holding out for lmk to give us another cameo or glimpse of her, lmk please—) with her walking Wukong through the grief and his own pain, and parallel play with Tripitaka (the play being Tripitaka mediates while Wukong practices his forms/showing off his forms to his master) as well as Tripitaka providing more insight about grief

with Macky, i can see him starting that grief after his death. so like, post-resurrection either before s1 or at some point during the show (but NOT s3 or 4) like, after the angry and bitterness, Macky feels hollow and believes that to mean he’s lost those old feelings of love. and at this point, Macky would think he’d be relieved because finally! he is rid of Wukong not just as a friend, but also, Wukong’s hold is gone, but it isn’t relief he feels from that realization, but grief and loss. and because he still isn’t emotionally stable and is hell-bent on revenge, he takes that grief and fuels it to his anger for killing Wukong because maybe then the relief will come.

i do think that in s4, Macky was starting to process his own grief and feelings and death in a sort of healthy way, so he might have come to some indifference about Wukong, still believing he has begun to feel nothing for his old friend until he goes into the memory scroll (but he could chalk that up to nostalgia)

anyway, as for rekindling: slow burn 2.0 lmaoooooo

maybe it’s simply because i am a sucker for slow burns, but I highly doubt Sun Wukong and Macky would be able to go back to being lovers or whatever they had going on pre-war on Heaven because they’re fucking stupid when it comes to actually interacting with each other. communication who???? they don’t know her!!! catch them falling into old habits without knowing but never acknowledging it and leading to confused feelings 💅✨

also, s5 please let them be petty exes to each other!!! petty as in minor offenses, as in one of them stole the other’s clothes and is lying to the guy’s face whilst wearing said stolen clothes. they should go from “ugh, i guess we can work together……for MK” to “ugh, fuck not again!!!” to “I know they only see me as an acquaintance/ally for MK, but I have started to see them once again as someone I want to hold forever and why am I pining for this idiot again I should know better—”

in conclusion, i cheated and gave myself a win-win scenario with your question. but reactions to realizing the fell out of love: Wukong’s would be one where he tries to isolate but his friend never allow him to, and Macky is one with angry screaming bc he’s sO stable.

[cogneato-inc]

The Gang+ Roadtrip Headcanons

(Unfinished and never going to be but I wanted to post what I have </3-)

Absolutely loves road trips, is packed days in advance, needs to see every tourist trap and truck stop:

Brett

Is PUMPED - he loves everything about road trips

Sitting in the passenger seat giving directions, driving and jamming with the music as loud as possible, sitting in the back and pointing out animals and funny signs

Very susceptible to billboards - if he’s driving he stops at every tourist attraction/interesting truck stop/sightseeing platform and loves it Every Time

Buys a souvenir from every state he goes through (but it’s always something Huge and Inconvenient to keep in the car, like a cowboy hat or a big ass sign that everyone tells him not to buy)

His road trip playlists are Elite - always classics, or a mix of everyone’s favorites so no one can complain too much

Glenn

Takes his kids on road trips !!! It kills his back but he loves taking them to historical monuments and whatnot

(Not relevant but he absolutely seems like the kind of man who Fucking Loves historical re-enactments ?? He’s out there I know it in my heart)

Everyone hates when he’s allowed to drive because he has terrible road rage and refuses to stop for bathroom breaks or food - not to make good time, but just because he likes The Power

But he’s also good at keeping himself awake so he’s usually the driver at night when the roads are empty

(He still manages to find the one other person on the road and gets cut off or something, curses them out and wakes everyone up-)

Andre

Big fan of terrible roadside attractions - shit like ugly dinosaur sculptures and giant household objects in the middle of nowhere

Loves ridiculous billboards, his camera roll is 90% billboard pictures after the trip

You might think he’s in charge of the snacks but you’d be WRONG

He Will Forget Them

Or only pack edibles and wait for everyone else to realize

Likes to get to the destination as fast as possible, groans every time the others ask to stop:

Reagan

I headcanon she gets carsick super easily and hates the cramped feeling of having to sit near all of the bags/other people

So by the time the trip is over she is LAUNCHING herself out of the car

In the driver’s seat most of the time to avoid the worst of her carsickness (enjoys the added bonus of being able to threaten the others by withholding stops for snacks-)

Robotus

Would probably enjoy it more if he could get out of the car </3

If he’s repaired and has some sort of disguise he actually really likes stopping at the little sightseeing spots (and some of the ridiculous tourist traps but he’ll never admit it)

Makes a snarky comment abt EVERY religious billboard he sees - is absolutely insufferable when going through rural areas

J.R.

I’m not sure how you would even get this man to go on a road trip ???

‘Why can’t I just take my private jet >:(‘

It takes a lot of convincing, I would not be surprised if he’s straight up Never been on a road trip

And he doesn’t,, hate it ? If it’s just the two of you he has fun - but he makes Frequent comments abt how much faster you could have been at your destination (and also probably just,, better destinations that you can’t drive to) if you’d flown

If the rest of The Gang is there he’s miserable - being surrounded by people the whole time has him So So Carsick, he insists on driving as much as possible

Hates it, complains the whole trip:

Myc

He can’t get out of the car, he isn’t allowed to drive (for Several reasons), and No One will let him play his podcast when it’s his turn with the aux

He is Complaining or Sleeping the entire time

[jackienautism]

edit : you know just ignore this entire thing im just stupdi 😭 keeping it up still but . yeah

my thought of the night:

idk idk. i just . it rly irks me when ppl characterize amanda as this ruthless killer? fnsjfnd like. that’s just. not it.? YES she is a killer and shit and she’s def no angel but. she wouldn’t stab me just because i asked for her pronouns?FNSJFNS LIKE

even UNDER john’s influence, that’s just not how she operates yk? she’s only like that whenever she believes lynn is attempting to get between her and john. she’s only like that bc of her unhealthy relationship. WITH JOHN. if john had NO influence in her life, had not taken her under his wing, she wouldn’t be willing to pull a gun on someone just bc they’re getting “between” her and him. she isn’t necessarily violent, unless i’m reading things COMPLETELY incorrectly. she’s only violent when her relationship w/ john is at stake LMAO

her kills (outside of her Attempts towards lynn) are typically an act of mercy. not to say that makes things any better, but. she doesn’t kill bc she wants to or bc she doesn’t have anything better to do. she kills adam and she STILL regrets it to the point of harming herself like😭 and the only reason why she’s there to witness kerry’s death, as another post mentioned and def explained much better than me, was bc of her inherent involvement w/ eric. it was probably almost like a . thing to bring her solace or whatever. and her rigged traps? it’s all to prevent them from undergoing the “rehabilitation” process. to prevent them from living the life, the trauma SHE had to live after surviving her trap. basically she’s saying that dying is soooo much better than whatever the fuck she had to go through lol

does that make her an angel? of course not. does that make her much more interesting and NOT ruthless? yeah. at least imo it does

like. she wouldn’t just beat me up for no reason. she’s not someone who would piss on me and also spit on my grave. like ? unless i’m just ?????? totallly mischaracterizing her? LIKE . even JOHN says that her emotion is her downfall. the reason WHY she is killed in the first place is BC she cares too much. she cares too much abt john and her relationship w/ him. THATS why she shoots lynn. and THATS why she couldn’t save gabriela. her loyalty to john means so much more to her than most things. she cares WAAAY too much, to the point that it kills her

and saying and implying that she’s a killer and is violent bc she wants to be just …. it rly disregards and takes away that aspect of her character

and i truly don’t think that her being added as a dead by daylight killer helps here either LOL LIKE. i wouldve looooved to see her as a survivor but i totally understand why she wouldn’t be one. but at the same time . she’s not LIKE most other killers there yk? she’s basically manipulated into being a killing machine. by fucking john. bc SHE was supposed to take over his legacy once he died. if john had NO involvement in amanda’s life, she wouldn’t be the way she is

and like….. yeah that’s what makes her character interesting blah blah blah BUT. and hear me out. amanda never killed before she was recruited LMAO she kills now bc she feels like she has to. to save ppl from whatever shitty fate awaits them

idk if this makes any sense at all but . idk it just irks me brother. bc she isn’t your typical slasher. she’s sooo much more than that. she isn’t inherently violent. she wouldn’t beat me up and call me names . unless she had a reason to yk😭

LIKE basiclalg what i’m saying is. yes amanda is a killer. but that doesn’t mean she’s heartless and mean and shit. in fact she’s the complete opposite?????

i could go on a whole thing abt her actions and whatnot in saw ii despite already being an apprentice by thag point, but i’ll spare y’all the details. but. how she held herself and others in that murder house? most of it was def NOT faked. she genuinely cared for these ppl and wanted to see them succeed. and look at how she sympathized w/ gabriela? she cares TOO much which prevents her from being the Great apprentice to jigsaw and his legacy

i forgot exactly what john said, but after hoffman told him that he didn’t expect to feel remorse after putting the guy in the barbed wire trap? he says smth along the lines of needing to be detached from your emotions… . and that’s something amanda CAN NOT do. she lets her emotions dictate her actions ALL the time

yeah ok i just checked and he said that theheart can never be involved... that it can never be personal... and you know what amanda does ALL the time? ESP w/ gabriela?

went all over the place here sorry. but saying that she’s the WORST person on the planet is just wrong. like. watch how she held herself in her interview w/ police and that rockstar deleted scene and then we can talk abt amanda .

idek what i’m trying to say here . uhhhmmm. amanda young isnt an inherently violent and shitty person, you all are just stupid