#Sincere Carry

[pridesobright]

LIAM PAYNE · 1993 - 2024

[doortotomorrow]

cooper "the ghoul" howard » portrayed by walton goggins

[yinyuedijun]

NOT TO TAKE FANFIC DISCOURSE SERIOUSLY but I actually am frustrated with how much flack older fanfic writers get for simply writing about teenagers. it's stupid because all these canon series are being written by adults in the first place lol but also, like, it's genuinely creatively limiting. I write about childhood friends to lovers because everyone had a childhood and you can come up with very rich and meaningful narratives about it. childhood is all-encompassing as you experience it and it inevitably shapes a person as they become an adult, and that's something I like to explore. sometimes I do it as a very serious character study and sometimes I do it as a lighthearted romance. but regardless of the approach, that's my main motivation for writing about children, high schoolers, and aged up adults. it is simply a really complex part of the human experience that makes for rich writing. but bro the haters LOL

[spy-x-family]

i don't think tanjiro is the successor of sun breathing 'despite not being related to yoriichi'. i think it's that yoriichi is family to the kamados

in kny, family is whoever loves you. rui tries to make a family but ultimately fails not bc they're not blood related but bc he doesn't really love them. on the other hand, kanae, kocho, and kanao are sisters. zenitsu's master is his grandfather. inosuke's family were the boars (and then of course later, his birth mother kotoha, because tho he barely has any memories of her, he remembers she loved him dearly)

yoriichi was an unwanted child and later an unwanted brother when michikatsu's hatred for him festered and grew. he was rejected from the corps and only had the kamados. when he felt like his existence was worthless, it was the sumiyoshi who told him he deserved to be here as much as everyone else and made the effort to weave yoriichi into the family by passing down his earrings and sword form. he was rejected by his family but accepted by another. if family is whoever loves you, then that's yoriichi's people, and that love was why tanjiro succeeded him

[lunarharp]

uhh another modern au agott follow-up. They've gotten progressively sillier

[wexhappyxfew]

saw you were taking prompts and am having absolute carrie x dougie brainrot! maybe something with “i can stay the night, y’know. if it’d make you feel better.” or really whatever you see fit for them!

I just think that have such a fun and interesting dynamic that i’m OBSESSED with.

HELLO LOVELY ANON!!!! :) apologies that i am now months late to this prompt - but i am happy to say, i have an incredibly fun piece written in response!!! this has gone through a few iterations i won't lie - with some of the pieces of writing most likely incorporated into other pieces in the future! BUT - for now, please enjoy my take on this prompt. thank you SO MUCH for the love on carrie and dougie! i have so much fun writing them and their entire dynamic and THANK YOU so much for loving on them!!!! carrie x dougie brainrot is REAL!!!! <33333 PLEASE ENJOY!!!!! :D

stay the night

(a/n): carrie x dougie, with a hint of angst, featuring a smidge of episode 5 in all its sad, grief-filled, angsty glory. if you squint, you can get some vivian x blakely in there as well - a prelude to them and an upcoming piece! <3 if you want to read a piece for a bit of an idea as to what both carrie and dougie discuss in the second half of this piece, highly recommend didn't think you'd notice as a starter! as always, please enjoy! carrie x dougie here fill my heart with all good stuff! :)

Carrie's head had begun to nod off at the bar.

Between the highest levels of exhaustion she'd been feeling in ages, the numbing realization that hundreds of men were being lost everyday, and a few piloting crews were out 50% of their men, meant she was on edge now more than ever.

And to top it off, Blakely's crew was missing - no one had seen them go down, nor had anyone seen their plane come back. And it'd been two days.

Everyone was feeling some sort of pain that they were trying to push away with light music, a little alcohol and the remaining crews.

After the Silver Bullets crew was split up, much to the highest distaste and dislike of both Annie and Francis; Annie, Bessie, Kennedy and Margie had gotten transferred to a new plane crew - co-ed. First of it's kind.

They were spread thin, they needed vets with the rookies. Some people got the short end of the stick - where there was no more flying and simply the Operation room as their closest companion.

That was Carrie.

Staring at maps all day, marking bombing runs with some of the navigators, filling holes where they were needed. She wasn't a map-keeper, she was a goddamn bombardier. But she didn't even bother to open her mouth.

Stress was high, tensions thick and everyone was trying to keep it together around her it seemed.

Annie was usually flying in the air or on training duty or in meetings more often than not, staving away any sort of reality that there was at this time.

Francis was nowhere to be found unless she was needed on a mission with her own co-ed flying death trap.

Bucky was gone to England with no idea that Buck, alongside DeMarco, were both MIA, along with Margie doing everything it seemed to ignore the obvious.

Judy was placed into a new crew - Rosie's Riveters - and every time Carrie saw her, squeezed the living daylights out of that poor girl when she could. Judy was a little sister to all of them. Knowing she was separated from the rest of the crew, Carrie considered going to church.

Marianne was stuck in Operations with Carrie - and she always brought Frank - which seemed to be the highlights of peoples' days when that fat orange cat would come around. Though, Marianne was fighting sleep most days, the stress becoming far too much for all of them.

Paulina was still Radio Ops, but she wasn't flying anymore - days and nights she spent beside Operations, translating and recording and writing until her hands damn-near broke.

Now, she was nursing a beer, cuddled up beside Hambone Hamilton across the bar, talking in the quietest voice anyone had ever heard from the woman. They were really all going through it.

And on top of all that, Vivian Ratcliff was spiraling beside Carrie this fine evening, trying not to lose her mind. Everyone knew how rough it was for her after losing James - they were supposed to get married, she wanted to have kids with him, he was planning to pop the question after the war.

Ev Blakely had become a good friend to her, a real good friend, probably closer than either of them had thought or even seen coming, but now, she was onto her second beer and sitting there with nothing but tears in her eyes and a blank face. Carrie was going to tell her to finish her drink and head to bed soon by this point; it hurt Carrie to see Viv like this. Ever since coming to England, it's been bad spell after bad spell for the waist gunner.

"Holy shit, it's Blakely's crew!"

Carrie's whole body froze. There were cheers and yelling and voices and a clammer of footsteps along the wooden floor to her left and she slowly turned her head to see, there coming through the door was Blakely, Crosby and Douglass. Carrie couldn't move, watching as guys hugged one another, slapped each other on the back and fell into their normal banter routine of laughter, cackles and drink offerings.

Carrie could only watch. And her eyes fell specifically right to Douglass. Stood there, his hair unruly, a few bloodied scars on his face, a wide smile on his lips as he laughed and eyes so soft she was sure if she could get her legs moving, she would be over there right now, trying to keep it together.

Carrie watched the group disperse, drinks a promise from Brady and Crank, and took to watching Dougie who was offered a beer which he took with a smile, before his eyes started roaming around. Her heart began to pound inside of her chest. Before-

"Ev!" Carrie looked up and over and watched as Vivian had looked up, jaw dropping open, a few stray tears lingering in the corners of her eyes, as she slid off the stool and hurried over towards Blakely. Carrie's heart warmed as her eyes tore off of Dougie to watch as Blakely whipped his head around, a grin blowing up on his face like some sort of hot air balloon, pushing through a few of the guys to meet Viv halfway.

When they met, it was a sort of bone-crushing looking hug, with her arms wrapped around his neck and Blakely's….rather-large form cocooning Viv against him there.

Carrie watched as Viv's form trembled a bit against him - she was sure Viv was shedding a few tears that she'd been trying her best to hold in the last few days - and watched as Blakely said something clearly enough to make her laugh.

And then, Carrie was looking over towards Dougie again, and found his eyes already on her. A beer bottle halfway to her lips and her eyes blown wide open, she slowly placed the bottle down and awkwardly lifted her hand to wave.

Why the hell was she waving?

The man had probably just seen death and she decided to wave?

Lowering her hand, she watched as Dougie smiled at her, offering a small wave her way. He knocked Brady in the shoulder, stood beside him and then began walking over towards her, a small grin riding his face.

Briefly, incredibly briefly in Carrie's mind, she remembered that feeling of kissing Dougie - and the fact that immediately afterwards, she had been pulling herself from him, mumbling about being drunk, and then avoiding him the entirety of the rest of the night. Only for the mission to be called that night, and she had found herself disappearing for the night to her cot, not telling a soul that she had been kissing James Douglass just an hour previous.

And when the news had broke that Blakely's plane had disappeared and gone down? And she hadn't said a goddamn word to Dougie the next morning, promptly ignoring him, she found herself ripped with guilt.

And now - he was here, he was back and standing right in front of her, and her only thought was that she was speechless. She didn't know what to say in that moment, and was having a rather hard time deciding if she should be upset or angry or overjoyed or pissed off.

She couldn't sort it out.

And with him standing here, after those two days, she was half-convinced she could just kiss him on the mouth and it'd be better than any other reaction she could've had.

"Hi." he said.

"Hi." she found herself saying back, fighting to say more, but keeping her walls up and closed in on every inch of herself. She was pissed the plane had gone down, that she had allowed herself to be beyond worried sick for him. She was pissed she had let herself feel like that. She was pissed he was standing here now and she was speechless and didn't have more to say.

Carrie stared at his face a little while longer, those bloodied scars along his face, his unruly hair, his kind eyes. She felt her heart begin to race.

"You should get those cuts looked at." she said quickly, her voice sounding choppy, her tone sounding fake. She sounded out of place, nervous, and flustered. She didn't sound like her.

"I will." he said with a smile, before drifting his eyes over her form and meeting her gaze again.

"Are you okay?" she asked, almost mechanically, "When I heard-"

"All good." he said, his fingers twitching near his hip, "You?" Carrie's face grew hot.

"Me?" she choked out, clearing her throat, "Fine, fine, I…I should be making sure you are." Her heart was beginning to pound harder inside her chest.

"Do you want to talk?" he asked her, before dropping his voice, "Somewhere not here?" She blinked, feeling her face turn a deeper red, before slowly nodding.

"Yeah." she said quietly, taking one more sip of beer before slowly moving to her feet, closing a few inches between them, the space between their faces minute for a split second before she stepped away from the bar, "Where to?"

"We can go outside." he said, meeting her eyes before patting the bar table and turning.

Following him out of the room and to the darkened outside world made her feel dizzy - she was sweating, red in the face, hyperaware of his presence, the way he had looked at her, and every single urge she had felt upon seeing him. Dougie stepped outside and she followed him around the corner of the hut, where for the time being, they were hidden from anyone's view.

For a moment, all they did was stare at each other, listening to the quiet rumble of their breathing, the distant voices, the chirping of mid-fall crickets and bugs holed up in trees. In the dark, she found it easier to breathe than when she had been stood inches from him at the bar.

The anticipation was killing her on the inside in every way possible - the lack of speaking (something not at all normal for either of them), they way all they could seem to do was stare (which yet again, was not normal), and the way Dougie was watching her now (she couldn't get her mind to work).

"I thought you were dead." Carrie said - quickly - her voice sounding rushed, as she met his gaze, "When they told us the plane hadn't made it back. And that the others had gone down, gotten hit. After hearing about Major Cleven's plane-"

"Carrie." Dougie said, stepping forward and gently placing his hands on her shoulders, "It's okay." He offered a small smile. "We're here now." Carrie watched him, the feel of his hands on her shoulders, his gaze on her, body inches from her own.

"But you know it's more than that." Carrie found herself saying as she stood there, "You know that." For a moment, Dougie just watched her - as if a bit dumbfounded and confused.

"Whatever is going on between us," Carrie managed out, shakily meeting his eyes, "I can't deal with it. It's suffocating. When I heard the plane had disappeared over IP - that you were on that plane. You, Dougie. I couldn't breathe." She blinked rapidly for a moment.

"Knowing the way we'd left things, and how I'd left things and now you're standing here in front of me and I'm blabbering like an idiot." Carrie said, "And I could barely sleep because I felt so guilty that I'd just left you there and then thought you had died. But now you're standing here and still alive and I….." She trailed off and grew quiet, before meeting his gaze. She knew something was wrong with her because the longer she stared at Dougie's calm and rather composed face, the more she could feel herself calming down. The presence of his hands, his eyes, him.

"I know." Dougie said quietly, taking a small step forward between them, that small smile on his face growing as she peered up into his eyes, "You okay? Don't need you losing your breath, huh?" Carrie managed a crack of a smile on her lips, before she found her eyes welling with tears.

"You're just saying that to not rile me up." she managed out, hoping her attempt at a joking tone was evident.

"Oh am I?" he asked with a laugh, his warm hand appearing on her cheek, his thumb brushing over the scars left behind from her time in the sky, left behind by the war, the memories scathed across her face, "You think that's what I'm trying to do?"

"It's usually what you're trying to do." she whispered, eyes flicking to his lips for a brief moment before meeting his gaze upwards again, "You're just like that."

"With you I am." he said, his face lingering closer, his dark eyes inviting her into him it felt.

"With me?" she whispered, her hands finding their way to the front of his B3, gripping the leather tightly as she stared up at him with a slightly watery gaze, "So, you do it just to piss me off?"

"Sometimes." he said with an almost surprised, gruff chuckle to follow that made her heart twist, "I also know it makes you laugh so…."

"Makes me laugh, huh?" she whispered as his other hand traveled down to her waist, his grip tight as he watched her in the darkness, "Not always."

"How so?" he whispered back, "I know you, Bergie." Carrie watched him - and she could feel her insides calm. It was true. He did know her. He really did. Just like in this moment.

He knew her.

With Dougie pressed so close to her, his gaze persistent in front of her own, her own eyes scoring the blood across his face, the damage of war done to someone she wanted to protect suddenly with her life, she couldn't help but let out a quiet laugh.

"What're you laughing at now?" he whispered, "I didn't even get the chance to say anything funny." Carrie laughed again and shook her head.

"You know the first time I met you, I couldn't stand that carpet on your face?" Carrie whispered quietly, "I thought it looked like a squirrel, or….I don't know…a mangled bird." Dougie let out a laugh.

"A mangled bird, are you crazy?" he whispered, his thumb brushing on her cheek as his grin grew.

"Maybe." she whispered back.

"At least Ev appreciates the 'stache." he said and Carrie chuckled at his words, before going quiet, simply gazing up at his eyes, her own smile growing.

"What?" he asked her, "You always got that look on your face, you know that? When you look at me."

"I know." she whispered, her smile growing, her boldness flickering at the edges. Dougie watched her, his tender eyes quiet and content, and Carrie was sure she could spend the rest of the night simply staring at his face, memorizing that look in his eyes, the closeness of his face, all those little bits of his eyes you never saw until you were up close. She almost couldn't take the pounding of her heart anymore.

"I had wanted to kiss you, by the way," Carrie said quietly, "when we had danced together. And I guess….it scared me what it could mean. Especially during the war. And then it sort of came true. The possibility of losing you then. After they told me." Dougie smirked at her, before leaning closer to her, his eyes looking tired and lazy, his smile wide.

"Fuck the war." he whispered, before he leaned forward fully, his lips meeting hers.

It was a desperate kiss, she will admit fully - especially from herself. Clinging onto him, hands curled into the front of his B3, trying to pull him as close as she could, her mind a scattered array of thoughts as all she could focus on was his lips on her own.

Of course, the first time it had happened, she had been slightly buzzed, a little out of sorts, and taken off guard. Yet she had enjoyed every second.

Now, it was familiar, comfortable and safe. And she had never felt more wanted. It felt as if there was a million unsaid words between them in this moment, rooted in passion, desperation and grief that couldn't be described in any other way. Her hands were in his hair at one point, his cradling her face, her heart continuing to pound inside her chest. She felt out-of-body, like she didn't know what was happening to her.

When they had pulled apart, faces still inches from each other, trying to catch some sort of breath in this moment, all Carrie could do was stare up at him.

"What?" he asked her, his voice rich with warmth and what nearly felt like adoration in his tone.

She couldn't seem to get words in her mind and out of her mouth.

She was in love, she knew that much.

Softly, she gave him a gentle kiss before pulling back.

"Nothing to worry your pretty little face about." she whispered, as he chuckled. In that quiet moment, where they could only just watch the other, a soft red lit clicked on somewhere around the corner, near the door to the flying club. It hit the side of Dougie's face gently, and in a sinking realization, she saw the smile on his face drop, mirroring her own.

They both knew what that meant - another mission. Another mission. Dougie let out a quiet sigh, leaning forward to rest his forehead against her own.

"I can stay the night, y'know. If it'd make you feel better." he whispered. They were walking a very thin line.

"Please do."

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

nothing makes me as uncomfortable as pregnancy truly but somehow if suguru is the one going through it i’m like :3 <- this is referred to as suguru’s exception

[andromeda3116]

people actually went on about how game of thrones made it socially acceptable to be a fantasy nerd, as though the lord of the rings movies hadn't been released less than a decade earlier and left far greater cultural ripples and i am just

got may have made the adults feel better about liking fantasy, but lotr got into the kids' heads when they (we) were just young and impressionable enough to be absolutely transported and emotionally rewritten by don't you leave him, samwise gamgee and my brother, my captain, my king and and rohan will answer

lotr was rewriting entire generations' brain chemistry long before asoiaf and so obviously it's not fair to compare any post-lotr fantasy novel to it, and each book series was trying to do different things within their own spheres and so that also is not a fair comparison, but in terms of the cultural impact of the adaptations that came out within a decade of each other, saying that it was game of thrones that made fantasy mainstream is baffling

game of thrones could only run because the lord of the rings movies laid the path, and i will die on this hill

[blindmagdalena]

really obsessed with soulmate au’s recently and it got me thinking… what if john’s soulmate was part of the boys? a girl trying to kill him with an entire group of people also trying to kill him… and he’s fated to her? could picture him finding out and just putting his hands on his hips while turning his back to her and doing that click chuckle thing. just in utter disbelief but it is definitely on track for fate’s little play with him and his life lolol

Oohhh, you know, I've never played much with the soulmate au concept, but this struck me just right because I can so clearly see the slow, building meltdown that strikes him when that reveal drops.

The mirthless laugh, shaking his head, the hapless gesture to the ceiling before his hands drop. "Of course. Of course it's you. Why wouldn't it be? I mean—Christ, it makes sense, doesn't it? Every single person who was supposed to love me has-has fucked it, so why—" he keeps cutting into this escalating, unsettling laughter. There's nothing funny about it: you're sure that you're watching someone lose the last shred of their sanity in real time. "Why would my 'soulmate'-", he says, miming big, dramatic quotation marks. "-be any different?" That manic grin has shifted into tight baring of his teeth, a vicious sneer. He closes in on you, stands so near you can feel the heat of his breath when he hisses, "I should put you in the fucking dirt with the rest of them."

It should be terrifying, but it's hard to focus on anything other than the glassiness of his eyes. The sheer devastating heartbreak of it all, telegraphed clear as day in the way he carries himself. His eyes flare red, sizzling up the tears before they can fall. "And then you really will be all alone," you say. Maybe it's the hopelessness of the moment, maybe it's the shock of learning for yourself that he's supposed to be your one and only, but you feel numb. Frayed in a way you didn't know you could be. The crimson light of his eyes disappears in an instant, revealing surprise, followed by a wounded kind of look, before that familiar seething rage returns. "We'll see about that."

[reinedeslys-central]

"I think you should totally get in the back of my truck, actually," Leo says, linking pinkies with Jason. "What's the line? 'I can show you the world'?"

Jason stares down at where their fingers are curled together, peach on olive. He can't stop looking. "You don't have a truck."

Leo groans. "That was one time. I promise this one's legal. See?" He gently untangles their hands and slips behind the blue Chevy, returning with a slip of wrinkled paper that he triumphantly shoves in Jason's face.

LEO, I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU BREAK MY CAR WHILE I'M IN IOWA I WILL HAUNT YOU TO THE END OF TIME.

Your loving cousin, Nyssa (P.S. You can take your boy for a ride. I'll allow it. There's blankets in the back (and please help yourself to the glovebox). Don't tell me.)

Jason's eyes travel down the sparkly purple pen, catching on the note at the bottom before flickering back up. There's something that aches in his chest at the words 'your boy'.

He's not sure what expression takes over his face, but Leo, for his part, sees him and immediately ducks his head down so he can read the paper too, frowning. Jason follows his eyes down to the same line as they widen and Leo turns a raging, glorious red before hastily re-crumpling the note and sticking it into one of the many pockets of his cargo pants.

He clears his throat awkwardly while inspecting the dying grass at their feet. It looks like it could be good grass if it ever rains again this month, nice and long and thick.

..Yeah, nevermind.

He takes his glasses off and cleans them in an attempt to - what, exactly? It's not like he's got the object permanence of a toddler. It's not like looking away will stop him from thinking about red-hot blushes and bouncing curls and sharp smiles and -

Leo claps once, calling Jason's attention back up to him and the pretty blush staining his freckled nose. He looks just as awkward, laughing bashfully.

"Well, that's just Nyssa. Uh, she probably wouldn't actually haunt me, she doesn't believe in ghosts - not, I mean, if you do -" his words trip over each other, diverting the original innuendo that was definitely just meant to tease Leo since Jason's never even met her, not to mention he's not his, finally ending with - "but as you can see, it's clearly perfectly legal. So."

Jason raises an eyebrow. "Somehow I doubt that." Leo groans. "Oh, come on, dude, live a little, why dontcha?" He sidles up to him again, draping a warm arm over his shoulders and drawing him over to the car doors. "I know, you know, your dad's in California, your mom's in Paris, and your sister's at a party."

Jason opens his mouth to protest again and -

"- and before you say that you have homework," Leo scoffs, "allow me to remind you that we did our homework together yesterday, and you're already done your math homework for tomorrow, because you're a nerd."

Jason closes his mouth. "It's a school night," he offers weakly.

"Yeah, and every minute you have us waste out here is another minute we're not in the car, ergo another minute we're wasting, on a school night." Leo steps around him and holds his hands out again, eventually latching on to Jason's wrists and tugging him closer so he can peer into his eyes.

Jason may or may not forget how to breathe.

"Are you tired? You don't look tired," Leo frowns. "If you really don't want to go, I won't force you, y'know."

Jason forces his lungs to expand, contract, expand, so he can blurt out, "No, I mean, you got me. I'll go."

Leo grins as bright as the setting sun and twists around, whooping. He not-so-gently pushes Jason towards the car door before jogging over to hop into the driver's seat.

It takes a while, once they're actually on the road and leaving their neighbourhoods behind, that Jason finally goes, "You know, I'm just as concerned with how legal this is as I am with the fact that you still haven't told me where we're going."

Leo glares at him through the mirror. "Hey, if I told you then it wouldn't be a surprise, now would it?"

Jason hates surprises. "For all I know, you just kidnapped me for a surprise road trip to Toronto, and I didn't even pack my toothbrush."

Laughter bubbles out of the boy sitting at the wheel, quickly escalating into a full guffaw. "You're funny," Leo gasps, wiping away tears at a red light. "How did I not notice that you're funny?"

Jason's definitely never been told that he's funny. He might joke, sure, but being 'funny' is reserved for people like Percy, people like Leo or Cecil, who carry humour on them like sugar on a pastry, baked into their laughs and sprinkled over top with how clever they are.

No matter how hard Jason's tried, he's never been very clever.

Leo's still laughing, now more of a soft giggle as he pulls into the left lane to make a turn. He tries not to let it affect him.

"You should joke more often, dude. Bet all the girls would love that."

Jason looks outside at the trees and farms they're passing. Judging by the position of the sun, they're heading pretty much due south. There's nothing down south for them to be doing, though, especially not this late at night.

Skinny dipping, maybe. He wouldn't put it past Leo to suggest something like that and actually go through with it. But dragging him along? They barely know each other. What's a couple months on all the other people he knows?

"You wanna turn the radio on?" Leo says. Jason looks over to see him watching him with an odd smile. "Shotgun's choice, right? Don't worry, I won't judge. Even though I bet you listen to those 24-hour 'nature recordings' for fun and don't know what real music sounds like."

Jason rolls his eyes and plays with the dial until the 106.1 comes on. Leo groans. "Seriously? They keep playing, like, the same six artists over and over. Sure, Top 40's fine, but show a little variety, you know?"

He shrugs. It's like Leo said - he doesn't really know radio stations. His dad - when he deigns to drive the family places - is much more of a silence-of-doom, or failing that, an ominous-car-conversations person. "You put something on, then, if you're so set on it." He replies.

The warm light from the street plays over Leo's knuckles as he switches the wheel to one hand, blindly flailing the other one towards Jason until he hits the box behind the gear shift. "Pick a CD from here, whatever's fine. Eh, maybe not the Chopin or Metallica though. Might shift the vibe a bit too much."

Obligingly, Jason tugs at the black, faux-leather box until it comes open with a muffled thunk. Inside is a stack of CDs, spanning everything from Katy Perry to Vivaldi to Iron Maiden to Monsta X.

"Your cousin's got quite the music taste," he tosses out, rifling through the stack while giving periodic glances out the window to make sure they're not, like, five seconds away from a crash or something.

If there was anything Beryl Grace taught her kids, it was how to be a responsible passenger.

Almost on autopilot, Jason digs the pink-purple Teenage Dream CD out of the pile and then has to hastily shove the polaroids that spill out from underneath it back between the surrounding paper disc-sleeves (Mamma Mia!, he sees, and ..Heng:garæ? Whatever that means). That can't be safe for the discs, especially in a moving card, but then again who is he to judge. He doesn't even own any CDs.

They've fully left the town behind now, sailing down the open road with nothing but trees, farms, and the occasional streetlight in sight. He leans over and pops the disc into the CD drive, wondering again for the hundredth time where Leo's taking him.

Leo rolls to a stop at a four-way and watches him skip over the first two songs. "Whadya choose?"

Jason smiles. "Is now a good time to tell you I was born in Pasadena?"

The open bars of 'California Gurls' start to play, and Leo's warm, penny-brown eyes widen before he laughs, bright and a touch wild, incredulous.

It's weird. It's so weird. Maybe this is what his father meant when he said not to get any weird ideas in his head so close to finally reaching the decade-long goal of an Ivy League school. Maybe this is what his mother meant when she'd chastised him, saying hormonal teenagers got more impulsive with puberty and he should take care to keep listening to his parents, lest he lose everything he's worked so hard for.

If anyone else had tried this, he thinks, he wouldn't have said yes. He would have stayed at home, studied ahead for bond enthalpy and subjunctive Spanish, made tomorrow's lunch and cleaned his room. Adhering to routine. Acting - being normal.

You have to be normal, Jason. That's how they love you.

I will not tolerate an abnormal son.

Oh, Jason, it's like you just don't understand. What will people say? About you? About our family?

Leo isn't normal. Or maybe he is. Normal doesn't exist, when he's with Leo. He likes that about him.

He takes a risk and rolls the window down halfway so he can lean his head out and watch the sky, crisp wind tousling his hair. Leo smirks at him and switches the wheel to his right hand so he can roll his window down to match.

"Ten minutes," he says. "Look alive, buddy."

"There must be something in the water", Katy Perry croons.

also from 'burning like a glowing star', this valgrace fic I'm writing.

more stuff: Writing Directory

[psychopomping]

ok I'm catching up and i know i wondered why sklonda was upset but i get it now in scene. for her her son seems to be taking so much weight why doesn't it seem like his friends ! why is he always carrying stuff for everyone else why is he focusing on the wins of everyone not reaching for his own accolades you know??

[soracities]

there was so much of myself i couldn’t face when i was younger, i was only able to follow any direction that created a distraction from how wrong life felt. at 31 i am hurting so much but i also have so much capacity to feel the hurt and listen to it. at 31 i journal more than i ever have & realize how essential it is to have that space to be with myself, to allow every piece of me to exist on the page & look at it all with compassion. at 28 i moved to a new continent and started life again, and at 31 i am more lost and lonely than i’ve ever been - this is saying a lot & still i realize experiencing this at this stage in life is showing me what my inner world really wishes to experience in life, what authenticity and belonging truly mean to me. as we mature we get the chance to look our pain in the eye and unfold it piece by piece. this means the world to me and today i know i wouldn’t trade it for the predictability i expected in the past 💗

this is so beautiful anon. thank you for taking the time to send this🤍🤍🤍🤍

[modern-inheritance]

Modern Inheritance: Shared (Eldest Short, after Arya and Islanzadí's reconciliation)

(A/N: Inspired in part by this post about Echo from The Bad Batch. Arya never stops unless she has to. It's just easier to deal with the trauma alongside Glen in between bursts of activity and research into Eragon's curse. It's always easier to sleep when you don't have to try, especially when you keep remembering the one you lost.

Islanzadí is...distinctly familiar with this particular problem.)

MODERN INHERITANCE: SHARED

“But you’re still eating, yes?” So this is what it was like to be mothered. “I’ve…I’ve rarely seen you since you began working on this…project.”

Arya couldn’t help the grin, leaning back in her chair. Being mothered felt odd for sure, but it did feel…nice. “I’m fine, mum. I’ve been eating just fine. And Glen and I just got back from Analin. I wasn’t intentionally trying to avoid you.” 

The assurance seemed to calm some of Islanzadí’s concern, a lightning-like strand of anxiety winking out as her shoulders relaxed. “I just wish you didn’t work yourself non-stop like this.”

The younger elf turned back to the array of paper on her desk and picked up a pen. For a moment, it seemed as if she was going to leave the conversation at that, wave Islanzadí off like she had so many times before their recent revelations. 

And then…

“I…” Arya gripped the pen a bit tighter than necessary. “It’s easier to sleep if I’m exhausted.”

Islanzadí took the confession in. It wasn’t surprising. Evandar had been much the same when his Recall was rearing its head, forcing himself to stay awake until he simply couldn’t any more. “...Less time to think?”

A grim smile twisted her daughter’s lips when she looked over her shoulder, leaning an arm over the back of the chair. “Less time to think.” 

“The nightmares–”

“Will come no matter what I do.” Arya tilted her head, stray fringes flopping over with the movement. “Glen had the best sleep schedule around before I turned up again, and he still had nightmares every few nights.” Again, she paused. “It’s just better if I’m out when my head hits the pillow. I don’t like–” 

Her eyes flicked to the bed, words dying in her throat. It was sized for two people. The sheets were still tucked tight, the comforter still crisp and only wrinkled where she occasionally sat to read and, in the…the weaker moments…try and catch the barest scent of him, remember what it felt like to wake up with him beside her, whispering to him in the night. Making sure he was there and safe, but now he wasn’t, Fäolin was d–

Islanzadí stepped forward, breaking her out of the yawning spiral.

“I know that you still sleep on the floor.” Her mother’s voice was soft. “But…sometimes, sleeping in a different room is a bit more bearable. It can help.”

Arya blinked. Another room? “What do you mean?” 

The smile was sad when it touched Islanzadí’s lips. “After…your father died. I couldn’t sleep in our room. All I could think about, every night, was that he was no longer beside me.” 

For the first time, Arya heard a crack of pain through the softness, the subdued notes of her mother’s voice not a lack of emotion but a blunting of it, a blunting of it to try and protect. But now…now they shared at least one particular pain, a certain loss that they could relate to in ways parent and child should never have to share. 

They were stronger for it, though. And infinitely more understanding.

“I would go to my study and sleep on the couch there.” An unexpected laugh bubbled up from the queen’s throat. “I suppose I never stopped that entirely. That’s why there’s always blankets on the armrests.”

Arya grinned. “I’ve always thought that couch was very comfortable.” 

“It is!” Islanzadí returned the smile, brighter than before. The light at her eyes dimmed only just. “If you are up to it, I think you should try it tonight. Get at least some rest?”

“Yeah.” Arya tapped the pen on the table idly, staring off at the bundled bedroll beneath the bedside table. “Yeah, I think I will.” 

Relieved, Islanzadí pressed two fingers to her lips and then to her daughter’s cheek. She couldn’t help but chuckle at the woman’s halfhearted protest at the gesture, and left the younger elf to her new project. 

[riacte]

i say this with my entire chest: “terry” is unironically one of the best bits of last life

[heretherebedork]

I mean, they're really going hard with this when we know we're watching a QL and that this is Ba Vinh who has made a career of kissing a whole variety of boys as a whole variety of characters. Deeply amused. @absolutebl I do love the translations of obvious idioms, though.

(But, like, this show is not giving me the chemistry I want. I know it's there, I've seen it, I know it but it's just not working, the two characters are just unlikeable together so far. Which is frustrating!)

I want these men to be so cute together! I really do! They have good snark together so far. But the show just isn't giving me the more I need to make sense of them.

And the end of the episode finally delivered what I wanted and knew they could!

Sincerity!

[dickgreyson]

Forgetting to exclude mpreg from an ao3 search is actually smth that can be so funny it acts briefly as the strongest migraine medication on earth