#also i say tacky but i genuinely like whatever that guy has going on with his fashion style. i know everyone on here is like what are those

[deadrlngers]

the fact that gortash has a perfect balance between moral lacking tyrant and whimsy tacky man. That is why he bewitched me

[acceleracers-baby]

Acceleracers HC’s! Road Trip Roles! Teku Edition!

Teku

(Nolo Pasaro, Vert Wheeler, Shirako Takamoto, Kurt Wylde, Karma Eiss)

+Bonus Round

(Brian Kadeem & Banjee Castillo)

Teku

Nolo Pasaro - Nolo is in charge of picking the movies- assuming whatever big ass van they renovated comes with one of those little movie player things. Who am I kidding- these guys probably would have just installed one if it didn’t come stock. Unfortunately, Nolo’s movie choices are always pretty predictable. It’s either going to be one of the now TEN Fast and Furious movies, Pacific Rim, Transformers, or The Losers. That being said, Nolo DOES take bribes. Vert once washed his car for a week just so they could watch Surfs Up.

Vert Wheeler - Speaking of Vert, he’s the snack guy! At first, he gathered up everyone’s requests a few days before they got on the road, but now he practically has everyone’s snack preferences memorized. Let it be known that he takes this job very seriously. He genuinely goes out of his way to ensure everyone’s got at least one or two things to munch on. That’s also why he starts shopping a few days out from the actual trip, so that way if he has to run by different stores, or cut up fruit and divide them up into little ziplock bags he’s got enough time to do it. I also like to imagine at some point Jack comes home early from one of his missions and sees his son just surrounded by a shit ton of food like “are we doomsday prepers now??? What the hell is going on???”

Shirako Takamoto - I feel like I don’t even have to say it, but I’m going to anyway. Shirako is the DJ. Like Vert, he is very serious about this role. He starts curating a playlist as soon as he knows a road trip is going to happen. It doesn’t matter if he’s learning about it months in advance, he starts on it immediately. Despite always having headphones on and seemingly vibing in his own little world most of the time, Shirako is an astounding listener. He never fails to add the perfect mix of everyone’s favorite songs to the playlist. Not only that, but he has it sectioned out by hour. He wants to make sure whatever music they have playing, whether it be background noise for group conversations, or loud sing along sessions, it’s perfect!

Kurt Wylde - Spoilers for Karma, but they’re the two drivers. They work in shifts, switching off every few hours to (1) make sure they’re making the best time and (2) prevent any unnecessary road fatigue. Kurt is also practically the group big brother, so before any trip he’s sending everyone checklists to make sure they don’t forget anything. It’s ridiculous how in-depth they are. Obviously, he trusts them to fulfill their individual road trip roles but he’s on their asses for literally anything else. They’ll be ready to go at like 4am- everyone’s tired asf and he’s going around like “wallets? phones? chargers? toothbrushes???” making sure they didn’t forget any last minute items.

Karma Eiss - Like you read for Kurt, she is one of the designated drivers. On top of that though she is also the group navigator. She has like Waze levels of finding the best routes. With her at the helm, they’re able to make a 12 hour drive in a fraction of the time. Karma also has his uncanny ability to pick the best rest stops. Want to use the restroom but also take a quick breather in a nice scenic area? Good thing Karma was able to find the most beautiful truck stop you’ve ever seen with the cleanest bathroom ever. It’s honestly a little scary.

Bonus Round

Brian Kadeem - With Kadeem, it’s all about the journey, not the destination. When this guy road trips, he ROAD TRIPS. What I mean by that is you will be stopping at just about every cite to stop and smell the roses. It doesn’t matter if it’s some tacky tourist trap or one of the seven wonders of the world, he wants to see it, learn about it, and appreciate it. And if anyone one deserves to be able to relax a little, it’s Kadeem. Let this man enjoy his goofy little side quests. Especially, cause he ends up finding the greatest hole in the wall places to stop at too.

Banjee Castillo - Banjee quite literally never runs out of energy, so you HAVE to give this guy something to do or he will be miserable the entire ride. Thankfully, he is absurdly versatile. Obviously, his preferred role is to be in the drivers seat, but when he is not doing that he is the king of road trip games. 21 questions, I spy, and trivia are child’s play compared to the shit that Banjee brings to the table. Don’t get him wrong, he loves the classics, but they get old pretty fast on long road trips so he’s had to get creative in the past. It’s not uncommon for there to be three games going on at once half way through the drive. Usually two “spot em” games like Punch Buggies & Cows on my Side, and one actual game like Mafia or Song Quizzes.

——— Thanks for Reading ———

[monstersinthecosmos]

I thought I was the only one who thinks Loustat's romance is as dry as a desert. I don't know whether is the direction or the cinematography or writing or whatever the fuck. I see all this sex but none of the desire which is funny because it's all the way around in the books, no dicks touch butts in the novel but it is still a very sensual read. I don't think is a lack of chemistry between the actors neither because they're both clearly committed to their roles and enjoy their parts. I don't know. It's all very weird. Maybe Bryan just hit the jackpot with Hugh and Mads.

I MEAN HE DEFINITELY HIT A JACKPOT LMAO but like I don't think Jacob & Sam are bad, either, and like THEY HAVE SO MUCH CHEMISTRY IN INTERVIEWS???? WHERE IS THAT ON THE SHOW?

It's largely about the writing though and like all my complaints about the show have to do with writing. They're both doing awesome work with what they're given lmao.

I've complained about this a few times already LMAO but all of the sort of self aggrandizing that the show is doing about ~ReMoVing the SuBTExT~ is so hollow to me when you sit down and watch the show and realize the "subtext" they meant was to say THEY FUCK and not THEY ARE IN LOVE WITH EACH OTHER. It reduces love to being about sex in a way that's so just, honestly tacky and disappointing and so out of sync with what I see in the novels.

Like where's the sensuality and heat and fuck-me-eyes and steamy blood sharing and casual intimacy? Don't just show me Sam's ass in the pilot in a scene that's arguably dubcon. Don't sell your show as a romance when the most genuine interaction between them was 2 seconds from Claudia's POV.

I think there's a lot of telling and not showing going on; I spent the entire first episode not sure what Louis sees in him aside from the mind gifting & coercion, because they made the choice to montage their courtship and not show us the romance. The second episode Louis had to literally say like 5 times "He was enthralling" voiced over scenes of abuse and coercion. Third episode is infidelity drama with Louis's puppydog eyes going "Aren't I enough?" and like ?? Where does this even come from? Do they even like each other lol.

Plus with all the confusing exposition about why are we doing a second interview that scene when Daniel plays the tape at him is so ??? THEYRE THE SAME PICTURE LOL. It ruins the argument that they look worse/more frigid because of Louis's POV. They're telling us out loud that Louis is portraying Lestat as his soulmate, that's the story we're supposed to be getting? But he's still coming off like a complete asshole? This confused me so much.

Enjoy the toxic ship as much as you want but I just, don't see the horniness personally. Louis has been abused to an honestly unreasonable degree, and they used such real-world tropes to show us that it doesn't feel like fantastical vampire drama, especially when they've made such a point in anchoring his character into his race. Everyone had a problem with the violence in episode 5 but doesn't seem to care about the insincere gift-giving in episode 6, when that's JUST as realistic to real life abuse. But what I've learned from this fandom is that abuse isn't real unless someone hits you lol but that's not my business.

(Let's also not get into how the abuse in Episode 6 was also largely directed at Claudia but that's another story.)

I just don't get it like, we know from Hannibal, from Tony Soprano, from Walter White, from Dexter, that you can have fun with a bad guy, you can still enjoy when he gets what's coming to him, you can cheer for him through the badness. They had Lestat there already and oversold it, imo. He was already so petty and abusive and poorly behaved and it would've made sense that they rise up against him. They just oversold it so hard in a way that's just so uncomfortable (real world uncomfortable) outside of genre convention and just isn't all that fun to watch tbh. And they've made Louis such a sad sack it's just, so hard to watch him go through this. I think if he had a shred of agency it would feel more like it was in his own power and I'm just not really getting that from the story they're telling us and it's honestly just so fucking depressing.

And all that and it's like, not even sexy idk. Like if you're having fun and it gets you off, please enjoy! I just think it's being beaten over the head, like it was already so abusive via the gaslighting and whatnot and that type of CHEMISTRY is something I really enjoy in toxic ships hahaha but it's just like, so unrelenting and it's hard to enjoy when we never get to see them just loving each other.

Like, when Lestat is inevitably murdered and Louis has to deal with the guilt and grief of it, what is he even going to be grieving? With Paul they made the point to let us see their relationship so we understand what he lost, and with Lestat? idk. It'll be more of the voiceover going "He was all I knew" without like, letting us enjoy that on screen while it's still here.

[superhero--imagines]

Etsy Store Here l Ko-Fi l Commission Info I Instagram I Zine

A/N: Looking for a beta reader for a personal writing piece, let me know if you feel like you're a pretty good editor! Also this has been sitting in my drafts for like 2 months, and IDK maybe I'll do more of them since it's kinda fun.

* Omg this freak is so stupid into the fact that you literally create universes with those godly hands

* I’m not kidding, I think a good 80% of his initial attraction to you was because you’re writing will literally make you immortal

* “You’re going to live forever,” Satoru says slightly breathless as he holds one of your print publications in his hand

* You’re just like ‘wtf’ so he explains-

* “You die twice, once when your body can no longer sustain itself, and the second the last time someone says your name.”

* Ah, so he thinks you’ll live forever in the sense that someone will always reference your work

* “That’s not exactly true though, one day the sun will swallow the earth whole, turning everything we love to dust”

* Satoru thinks you sound just like a writer when you say stuff like that

* “Well, unless we find another planet and have a database there or something”

* Satoru googles ‘how to buy a planet’ and ‘how much would it cost to set up a database in space’

* He’s got no respect for your craft- and by that I mean if you’ve got a deadline you’re trying to meet for a submission period or for your editor whatever, he’s just got no respect for it

* Queue Gojo shenanigans where he’ll hide all the pens in the house, or hide your laptop or something just so he can see you all flustered and panicked

* “I DONT HAVE TIME FOR THIS I ONLY HAVE 12 HOURS TO GET THIS IN!!” You shriek running from one end of your home to the other looking desperately for your laptop charger

* It’s too late in the game to order another one, and you don’t trust leaving Gojo alone in this house

* More than once you’ve left the house to replace whatever Satoru stole only to return to see even more of your things were gone now

* One time he rearranged all the furniture

* “It’s up there,” Gojo says grinning, and you look up to the ceiling fan to see your laptop charger idly hanging off one of the panels

* “I’ll get it down for you if you give me a kiss,” he says cheekily

* There’s sort of a method to the madness

* Part of it is yeah, Gojo loves to laugh, and nothings funnier than you when you’re flustered

* But part of it is you’ve been hunched over your laptop for days now, and you’re starting to be mean to yourself because you’re frustrated

* You need a break

* One he’s more than happy to offer

* And a teeny tiny portion is because he’s lonely

* Whenever you get sucked into a project it’s like you forget about him completely

* So he just wants to remind you he’s here

* And that he loves you

* You sigh, giving him a quick peck, and with a wave of his hand he brings the charger down

* “I expect a better reward when you’re done with your story”

* I think Gojo is probably a pretty big fan of your work

* In fact he’s probably your #1 fan

* But he’s super low-key about it.

* Buys all your publications on pre-order (never in large amounts so you don’t notice)

* If you’ve got into a bigger journal/magazine, or have a book at a bookstore will buy a copy every time he passes by one and see’s it

* He keeps one copy of each work on his bookshelf in the living room

* And then stores the rest/extra copies in a velvet storage box in a temperature-controlled area

* He also has another set that he notoriously marks up with notes/annotations

* “This part sounds like the time I brought them food and took them on a spontaneous date” he’ll say, scribbling furiously into the margin

* Gojo see’s your writing as an extension of you- of your soul

* So he does his best to try and figure out where you get inspiration from

* He’s especially delighted if he notices something he did, inspired something you wrote -

* “Ah the villain hid the hero’s laptop charger so they couldn’t turn in their assignment on top,” he says with a sigh

* - Even if it’s not always positive

* Honestly he plays it so cool you think he doesn’t really think anything of your profession until you come over to his place for the first time and see all your works in a neat line on his shelf

* And even then you think he’s just supporting you because he loves you, after all, they’re all in great condition, he probably hasn’t even opened them.

* And then a little further into the relationship, probably when you move in together or something

* You find all those marked-up copies

* Gojo Satoru has never been redder

* You’re genuinely concerned he might combust

* He’s acting like you just found his porn stash or something

* You wait for a few minutes for him to stammer out an excuse or something

* But when he can’t seem to form any words after several minutes you sigh and close the box

* “I didn’t see anything”

* He just nods

* You start giving him copies of your work yourself now that you know he’s so interested

* “O-oh no it’s fine-“

* It’s actually one of the rare times you see Satoru flustered

* “It’s fine, I insist, I’ve got too many contributor copies anyway”

* He takes them in his hand blushing

* He would show up to all of your readings or signing events -

* Disguised Ofc

* “Hey you should be careful, that guy looks super sketchy-“

* You look to where your manager is pointing, to a tall lanky guy wearing a black hair wig, and these tacky thick-rimmed pink glasses and you sigh

* “No need to worry, that’s just my moronic boyfriend”

* “You don’t have to show up in disguise you know”

* “Well what was I supposed to do? You didn’t invite me” he’s doing that thing where he gets all shy, a blush on his face and his fingers tugging a strand of hair

* You sigh

* The dork is oddly lovable

* “Well, from now on you’ve got an open invitation to all my events”

* He smiles so bright you would think you just offered to blow him in the middle of the bookstore

* He’s got his shortcomings

* “SATORU DID YOU HIDE ALL MY REFERENCE BOOKS?!?!”

* But you couldn’t have asked for a more supportive boyfriend

* “Kiss me and maybe I’ll tell you where they’re at”

* Or a better muse

[baldwinboy5ive]

A few scattered Hawk, Johnny, and Demetri thoughts and headcanons 

How Hawk Will Atone in Season 4

This is a dumbass joke I shared this with some friends outside of tumblr, but I needed to save this for posterity, so I’m posting this here as well even though it’s hilariously outlandish. All because I saw this comment and couldn’t stop laughing about it: 

But it turns out this conversation was happening at the same time as a discussion about Johnny’s and Demetri’s heights, and I pointed out Demetri is actually taller. We were talking about how, especially after critiquing Kreese’s tattoo, Demetri needs to insult Terry as well. Demetri goes up against Terry Silver, annoys the shit out of him, calls the earring tacky, you know - just Demetri doing his little Demetri things, hahaha. Then Hawk swoops in, swiping a sharpened sai from the Cobra Kai dojo wall - Stingray pops out of nowhere just to remind everyone that it’s Raphael’s weapon - and Hawk brandishes it over Terry Silver. It probably looks something like the imagery on the Narmer Palette, which shows the king grasping the head of a conquered enemy by the hair, and raising a mace in the other hand to strike him with, a picture of complete dominance.  

Hawk then leaps at Terry and slices the sai across his neck offscreen. (I recall it was @phoomwhoosh​ who reminded me that the hawk screech sound effect has to be played here, as well.) Next thing you see is Hawk victoriously brandishing the ponytail and yelling in triumph, holding it up for everyone to see, and all of the other students cheering him on, with Terry slumped on the ground, defeated and humiliated. 

Hawk goes up to Daniel-san, reverently lays the ponytail at his feet, and says with a bow, “For atonement, for what I did to your dojo, and for stealing your sensei’s Medal of Honor.” 

Daniel: “........................ you did fucking what now” 

“Babes means babes.” 

“Babes” is gender-neutral. I love the notion of bisexual-even-if-he-doesn’t-even-know-that-word Johnny Lawrence just calling any hot person a babe. He thinks Daniel LaRusso’s a babe. He told Hawk at Valley Fest that the flashiest way to show off the board breaking was to “pull the hottest babe onstage and make them hold it” (Hawk listened). 

Daniel: “Johnny, when you constantly say that you hooked up with plenty of ‘babes,’ do you mean men and women, or -?”

Johnny: “Babes means babes, LaRusso, don’t be weird about it.” 

Just Hawk

Not sure if this is just another dumb joke of mine or a realistic headcanon, but I say Johnny doesn’t actually know Hawk’s real name. Maybe this is��realistic, though? Which is sad. I mean, he ignored that kid so much. And I genuinely think it might actually be possible that Johnny never had a single kid fill out paperwork, and only Kreese had them do it once he stepped in (he mentioned Tory’s) and took care of administrative things like paying Johnny’s bills and the like. (Oddly enough, Johnny does know Demetri’s name. Not sure why, but he does.) 

Speaking of names:

The Assassination of Eli Moskowitz by the Coward Demetri Nolastname 

Really, most of the things I desperately want for season 4 are not going to happen, so I’ll just lower all my expectations and just wish for this one single thing: please give us Demetri’s last name. I need to know it! 

Important note: I do not think of Demetri as an actual coward, this is just the same damn dumbass joke I’ve been recycling for years now, starting from way back when I said “The Assassination of Greedo the Rodian by the Coward Han Solo.”

And a tangent: I’ve never even seen that movie, but after hearing Martin Kove talk so much about his love for Westerns I’m kind of interested, haha. 

Demetri’s Future

This one comes straight from @idontknowkaratebutiknowcrazy​ and I love it so much that I have majorly latched onto it: Demetri becomes a standup comic when he’s a little older. The credit for this idea goes fully to her! And it truly is an amazing idea. @idontknowkaratebutiknowcrazy​ also suggested Demetri becoming a comic book creator, which I also love so much, but he could be both! Because whatever he ends up doing, he can definitely do standup on the side. And, man, I just rewatched The Assassination of Eli Moskowitz by the Coward Demetri Nolastname (again: not actually a coward) and his delivery is SMOOTH as silk. He’s so good. And obviously very engaging with the crowd. 

If only I could write fics, I’d love to write this one: Demetri starts finding some success after awhile, and his binary boyfriend Eli attends some of his sets, and they both watch a lot of other comics because of Demetri being in that world now. Some of them kill, some of them bomb, and some are just average. Demetri does all three, sometimes all in the same night. Eventually, Demetri has a big night where he headlines a show, and a bunch of their friends come, along with their senseis. Demetri spends a good portion of his set roasting Sensei Lawrence. (The man spent years listening to and following orders from a dude with an inaccurate cobra tattoo, for crying out loud - round pupils, REALLY.) Sensei LaRusso loves it. Eli’s so proud of how well Demetri did in his headline show, but because Sensei Lawrence was in attendance too, Eli says to everyone else later: “I’ve never seen someone kill that hard, and then be killed that hard after the show.” 

Hawk’s Just a Simple Man, Trying to Make His Way in the Dojo

Hawk’s trying to figure himself out. He has a bit of an identity crisis when he’s in the transition period between Cobra Kai and Eagle Fang/Miyagi-Do/Whatever the Fuck, and is still figuring out who he is, and whether or not he still does or does not like Nerd Shit. Even more confusing is: does Star Wars count as Nerd Shit? It’s pretty nerdy, yeah, but is it really Nerd Shit when it’s so popular and almost everyone watches at least the main movies? 

And Johnny was really at the actual perfect age for watching Star Wars when it came out. Look, I don’t care how much the guy rewatches Iron Eagle on a loop, Star Wars was a cultural juggernaut when it happened (and never went away) and - really, I don’t care who you are, Star Wars is for everybody. I’m even hearing Johnny’s voice in the bit where he goes “It doesn’t matter if you’re a freak, or a nerd, or a loser... all that matters is that you become badass!” 

It DOESN’T matter! It doesn’t matter if you’re a freak, a cool popular kid, a loser, a weirdo, a nerd, a normal everyday average joe, or anything at all really - you can watch and like Star Wars, haha. 

Sure, maybe Johnny didn’t watch many, if any at all, of the movies past the original trilogy, but here’s another headcanon. He really enjoyed at least the OT, and once Hawk and Demetri find out, it starts to crack at the walls Hawk put up around himself about all the Nerd Shit. He still isn’t sure whether it’s okay to like Star Wars because it’s cool, or whether it’s okay to like Star Wars because he really is still into all that nerd shit... but then Hawk eventually comes to terms with all of it by realizing that it doesn’t actually matter what kind of labels get put on all of this. After all, Sensei Lawrence doesn’t care that much, despite how much he throws words like “loser” around. To him, it was just a cool movie. (Later, when Hawk gets much more comfortable in his own skin, then he can enjoy the truly nerdy shit like Clone Wars and Rebels ahahaah.) 

So far, they didn’t really do too many of these kinds of training exercises on the show, but Mr. Miyagi blindfolded Julie Pierce and trained her to use her other senses. Perhaps Daniel got some of that training off-screen too, and begins to teach it to the students. They all start with a kata and blocking drills with their eyes closed. Hawk has some trouble at first, and it’s actually Johnny who says “If you keep opening your eyes, I’m gonna come over there and put a bucket on your head like Obi-Wan did to Luke. And we used that bucket for washing the cars for like the hundredth time.” 

“Sensei, you know Star Wars?!” Hawk says incredulously. 

And then it’s everyone else who’s incredulous: who the fuck doesn’t know Star Wars? 

And that’s how that all began. 

[allegedlyanandroid]

Pairing: Allen60 Prompt: Cold Types: Found Family, Fluff AU: Angels and Demons, Sixty as the little devil he is, and Allen just being human.

I am so late 😅 I wrote an entire thing before realising I hated every word of it and started over from scratch. Anyway... excuses aside, I hope you like it @yayen-chan <3 `(‾◡◝)´ 

“Okay, bookshelves first,” Allen mutters, following the intricate maze of arrows and concrete as he tries to navigate the local IKEA. “Or rugs. That works too,” he sighs when he glances up and finds himself in the wrong part of the store. Looking through the copious amounts of different rugs Allen rapidly finds himself overwhelmed. He tries reading a few of the ridiculously complicated names, stuttering over them when trying to read them out loud. “Ra- raskmol- mölle?”  

Giving up on the fifth time trying to pronounce it correctly Allen rolls the grey-and-black striped fabric up and tosses it on the cart, already dreading trying to find the rest of the items on his list. There’s only one really but when passing through the plant-section he stops to pick up a potted plant. The other one is beyond salvaging from lack of water. “Ilex, foreeneling? För-enlig. What are these names?”  

After another dead-end and some frustrated grumbling, he does find the bookshelf he needs. Honestly… this trip alone solidifies why he’s never getting a puppy. The one he took in to foster was a sweet thing but very demanding and unaware that he weighed quite a lot for a pup. He’d knocked Allen’s bookshelf over, thus breaking it, and also had an accident on his rug. If being petless meant never having to go here again then that’s a price he’s willing to pay. At least the shelter had found a family for him quickly and, while he did miss the little rascal, the puppy was undoubtedly in better hands.  

“Kallax, hemnes... gersby?”

Too caught up in his own head he doesn't notice the strange scent of warm brimstone and ash filtering through the air nor does he notice the young “man” standing behind him, a man who seemingly appeared out of thin air, until he hears the sound of a throat clearing. Allen jerks his head up from wrestling with the cardboard box and offers an apologetic smile over his shoulder. “I’ll be done in a minute.”

“Or, you could tell me why I’m here and spare me the mundane small talk you humans seem so obnoxiously fond of.”

“I’m sorry?”

The man squints. “You summoned me.”

Allen pauses to take a good look at the man. He’s tall with black, artistically tousled hair and endless amounts of freckles. A few moles are scattered across his skin and his brown eyes are filled with irritation. Dark jeans with a long-sleeved shirt tucked into it, a black overcoat ending at about mid-thigh and a purple scarf hanging unknotted around his neck. Allen thinks long and hard yet finds no recollection of ever seeing this man before in his life let alone speaking to him. “I have no idea who you are.”

“You-” the man pinches the bridge of his nose, inhales deeply and slowly let it out before starting again. “You read the incantation to evoke me and you what… didn’t even realise it?” he asks and receives nothing but a blank stare from Allen in return. “Ugh, humans.”

In the blink of an eye the man transforms. Horns curve with the shape of his skull, producing from close to his temples, before ending in sharp tips that blend in with his raven hair. A black tail is wrapped around his leg which ends with a jagged spear-like point. The tips of his fingers look like they’ve been dipped in charcoal, fading into dark grey about halfway up his fingers, with claw-like black nails top it all off. They tap against the metal shelf next to them as the demon slowly advances.  

Too shocked to move, Allen’s jaw is taken in a firm grip and when the demon smiles his teeth are pointed blades. “So… are you going to tell me what it is you want?”

“You can let go of my face for a start,” Allen says, adding a quick “thank you,” when the demon does as he’s told. “What’s your name?”

“You may call me Sixty.”

“Sixty,” Allen repeats. “No offence but I quite like having my soul intact. I’m sorry for dragging you from… whatever circle of hell you reside in, but I’m not interested in making any sort of deal with you.”

“Sucks to be you then because I’m not leaving until you do,” Sixty says and from his tone of voice alone Allen knows he’s a hundred percent serious.  

‘Fucking IKEA.’

-

“Really? You couldn’t have chosen to live somewhere a bit warmer?” Sixty asks with disdain, thankfully back to looking human. His feet sink into the four inches worth of snow dusting the ground and he can already feel the cold seeping in through the gaps in his clothing. “Or somewhere nicer in general.”

“No one’s forcing you to stay.”

“No one’s forcing you to live here.” A pause. “Or if they are, I am more than willing to kill them for you free of charge.”  

Allen sighs.

-

Having a demon for a housemate isn’t as bad as he thought it would be. Sixty mostly keeps to himself whenever he isn’t trying to get a rise out of him or complaining about the cold or putting things on tall shelves like the little shit he is. Until Sixty gets bored that is.

Because when Sixty gets bored trouble ensues.  

-

Emerging from his office after a long day of meetings to see his demonic housemate casually chatting with parts of his team in the breakroom is a bit out of left field and the sight of Sixty’s mischievous eyes boring into his own is enough to quicken his pace. “What are you doing here, Si- Silas?” he asks, forcing a smile on his face.

He hates how no one else can look past the innocent brown eyes and syrupy grin to see the smugness beneath. “I thought we were supposed to eat lunch together? Did you forget?”

“No, of course not,” Allen hastens to say, ignoring Willis and Clark’s knowing grins, as he wracks his brain for a response. “Though I distinctly remember asking you to wait outside.”

“It would have been rude of me to decline Julie’s offer of getting coffee,” Sixty replies and raises his mug as if to show it off.

“No need to be jealous, boss. We just wanted to get to know the guy better,” Julie says.

“Yeah, it’s not like we’ve ever seen you hang out with anyone outside of work apart from Reed,” Clark pipes up. “We got curious.”

“I’m not jealous!” Allen tries to defend himself, latching on to the word, but the agitated tone does nothing to help his case. Sixty smirking behind the rim of the coffee cup like a cat who got the cream isn’t helping to improve his mood either.

“You are the pettiest asshole I’ve ever had the unfortunate luck of meeting,” Allen says when they’re safely away from prying eyes.

Sixty snickers, knowing full well the amount of endless curiosity and ceaseless questions he’s unleashed on the human. “There’s an easy way to get rid of me.”

The fistful of snow he gets shoved in his face shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

By the time he manages to blink the melting snow out of his eyes Allen is too far away to retaliate, though that doesn’t stop Sixty from trying.  

-

Despite his best efforts Sixty’s irritation with being unceremoniously dragged into the mortal plane dissipates after the third week of staying with Allen. By the time he’s been there for a month and a half, Allen’s team have adopted him as one of their own and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t flattered. They genuinely care about his well-being and often invite him along on outings. As someone whose family is… overbearing, their light-hearted ribbing is a nice change of pace. Their easy dynamic is the very opposite of stifling. No one ever pries when he declines to answer a question. No one touches him after he made it clear he dislikes physical contact. No one quizzes him about his every movement.

It’s… nice.

The next team building exercise and subsequent photo op, proudly displayed on the communal fridge, includes him and Sixty doesn’t cry even a little bit upon seeing that.  

Not at all.

-

In the end, the shift in their relationship is near seamless ‒ from reluctant roommates to friends to something more.  

What hits him first is the metallic scent of fresh blood and Sixty is halfway across the room before he can even process rising to his feet. He gathers Allen up in his arms and leads him to sit down on one of the kitchen chairs. Part of his dark shirt is tacky with blood and Sixty feels no remorse when he shreds it to get it off as quickly as possible. Something, a bullet or knife, must have grazed his side. It’s bleeding sluggishly though it thankfully isn’t deep. Sixty takes the ruined shirt and presses it against the wound. “Keep putting pressure on it.”

Allen doesn’t answer and in the end he’s the one who has to move Allen’s hand to take over while he dashes to the bathroom for the medkit. Sixty plunks it down on the floor and fills a bowl of lukewarm water to put down beside it before fetching a clean towel. He kneels down between Allen’s legs and cleans meticulously around the area, noting the patches of skin where bruises are slowly forming. Swiping over the wound with antiseptic earns him a bitten-off hiss and Sixty puts a hand on Allen’s sternum to steady him after the first involuntary flinch.  

He keeps it there, soothed by feeling the steady thrum of Allen’s heartbeat beneath his fingertips, until he needs the use of both his hands. In its absence, Sixty’s tail comes up to wrap loosely around his thigh for comfort.  

Butterfly bandages instead of sutures, his tail instead of his hand. Allen doesn’t say a word about either choice though he is smiling down where they’re connected once Sixty chances a quick peek.

There’s nothing left for him to do after covering the wound with gauze, taping the edges down, yet Sixty finds himself lingering there regardless.  

It’s easy to trace around the gauze with the very tip of a claw and when he catches Allen’s dark eyes the urge to lean down to place a gentle kiss over it wins out. Allen sighs quietly and coaxes Sixty up to kiss him properly ‒ a chaste press of lips against lips followed by a sincere thank you.  

Sixty blushes and knocks his forehead against Allen’s, mindful of his horns, in a silent show of affection.

-

“Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

“Because I literally stepped in the door a second ago?” Allen laughs and pulls Sixty in for a quick kiss.

“Excuses,” Sixty sniffs and steals another kiss, one that quickly devolves into a dozen pecks being pressed all over his face until Allen plants a last lingering one to his lips.

“I love you,” Allen says when they break apart for real.  

The shy smile spreading over Sixty’s lips is one he’ll never tire of seeing.

[welllpthisishappening]

Step Into the Light

In which Emma ponders the pros and cons of carpeted steps, how ugly that couch is, and how exactly to pay for a house in a town prone to fairy tales with a boyfriend who is still kind of dead, knows far too much about modern bathroom design, and has started wearing a sword with his jeans. That last thing’s making it a little difficult to focus on the rest, honestly. 

Or: Emma and Killian talk about their house while sitting in an Underworld-version of it, and finally acknowledge how ridiculous the Storybrooke real estate market is. But, like, with feelings! 

-----

Word Count: 3.4 and change

AN: In my never-ending quest to make characters actually talk about things, especially in an Underworld setting, here’s a quick story without much plot, some kissing, and some of those previously advertised feelings. Don’t bother telling me that cap is not in their house, I know. As always blame @shireness-says​ for me posting things. She’s very nice and is always, like, yeah, put that on the internet. 

-----

Maybe they should put carpet on these stairs. 

She’s got no idea how to do that. Or who would do it. One of the dwarves, maybe? They’ve got to have handy-man type skills. They built that cottage her mom stayed at in the Enchanted Forest one time. She thinks, at least. Emma’s not sure handy-man is the right word, either. 

And she should probably apologize to the dwarves before requesting anything of them. Like, as a unit or a group, or whatever. For the freezing thing and the tree thing, and she genuinely has no idea if anyone did anything about Dopey, but she also figures after you get one guy out of a tree bound by ancient magic in a totally different realm, getting a dwarf back to his correct biological state is relatively easy. 

So, the dwarves could probably do this. 

Sitting on stairs without carpet isn’t particularly comfortable, after all. Maybe she should just magic carpet onto the stairs herself. Pick out a color, or a pattern and get to it. As it were. 

No, not a pattern. No one wants patterned carpet, that’s tacky and she can’t imagine it’d be very easy to clean carpeted stairs, but that’s also something she could do with magic, if she were at all inclined to think about something as mundane as magic-based cleaning and—

The floorboards creak. 

Emma wonders if they do that at home. In the right version of this house. This one is obviously messing with her mind. Which is how it’s supposed to work, she figures. 

So, points to Hades. 

It’s too big. Too many tiny, subtle differences from the space Emma only passably remembers and kind of explored, and she’s far more acquainted with the basement than any other room. Even the idea of going upstairs freaks her out. 

Open floor plans with more hardwood, and bare walls that are almost desperate to be covered with frames, but part of that desperation might just be Emma, and she’s sure the master bedroom has en suite bathroom. It’s so goddamn fancy, she can’t quite come to terms with it. Or the questions she hasn’t given voice to yet, curiosity that burns at her from the moment she wakes up to the second she manages to close her eyes. 

He’s staring at her. 

Cautious energy that practically radiates off him now, both of them dancing around subjects and possibly each other and at some point Emma is certain she’ll have to make a list to all the people she needs to apologize to. 

“You don’t look very comfortable,” Killian says, thumb hooked through one of his belt loops and that’s almost distracting, but he’s also started wearing a sword belt. Absolutely ridiculous. She hasn’t asked him where he found a sword, either. 

Can’t be his. That’s—

“Is your sword on the Jolly, you think?”

It’s at least in the realm of a joke. Lips still twisted, Killian’s eyes almost brighten and that’s probably impossible in a place like this, but Emma’s slightly concerned she’s losing her already tenuous hold on sanity, so she’s willing to allow herself this one thing. 

One eyebrow arches perfectly, a return to something that almost feels like normal and can’t be that because Emma hasn’t made her list yet. If she makes the list, she’ll be in control. At least some semblance of. 

“Are you under the impression I don’t know where my own sword is?” Shrugging only serves to make it obvious how tight Emma’s muscles are, but Killian’s mouth twists ever so slightly and that’s a hint more normal she’s not sure she deserves. “Where else do you think it would be?”

A stair edge is digging into her spine. 

“That’s why I asked.”

“Ah, so I have to answer the questions and you get to avoid them purposely?”

It’s a joke. 

And yet, for as much as it’s a rather pitiful attempt at humor, the whole thing falls flat. Or down the stairs, as it were. 

It’s entirely possible she’s the one who’s endeared. 

“Tell me why you’re sitting here.”

“Conversion rates are admittedly still a little out of reach for me, but I’d imagine it would take a considerable amount to get them to consider crossing the threshold.”

Emma scrunches her nose. “How much do you think we’d have to pay the dwarves to carpet these stairs for us?”

“How do you figure?”

“Gepetto might do it, though."

"Probably owes you, don’t you think? Several times over.”

His eyes are definitely getting brighter. Amused and endeared and several other adjectives that also do not belong in a place that’s basically hell-adjacent. Emma’s beleaguered mind does not care. Emma’s beleaguered mind does metaphorical cartwheels as soon as Killian drops next to her, hitching up the front of his jeans along the way like that’s something the fabric needs. 

At, like, all times. 

By him, and his sword belt. She can’t cope with the sword belt and the overall tightness of his jeans. It’s a whole goddamn look. 

She can’t remember the last time she slept for more than a few hours. 

“Well,” Killian starts, “it’s rather well known that the craftsman snuck his own son into your wardrobe ahead of the Dark Curse.”

“Is it just?”

“Very gossipy town this Storybrooke.”

“Who are you gossiping with?”

“I believe you’ve met the Widow Lucas, aye?” Laughter shouldn’t happen here. Sounds unnatural, even as it tumbles out of Emma, past upturned lips and slightly looser muscles, the second of which is undeniably disgusting. Her fingers curl around Killian’s hook. “Well, over the course of my stay in her lovely and well-informed establishment, I learned a few things. So, that’s Savior point number one.”

Emma’s cheeks ache. Most of her does these days, so she’s not surprised by the additional feeling, although there is something different about this one. More pleasant. Like stretching out after a good night’s sleep. 

“Anything that happened with the cupboard was a little out of my control,” Emma argues, “being minutes old and all.”

It’s ridiculously alive. 

He smirks. Straight up smirks, directly at her. Until it feels like she’s been struck by lightning and normalcy and three different knuckles on Emma’s right hand crack. When she tightens her fingers. “That’s been well-established, aye. And my sword is still on the Jolly, because I—” There goes the light. Dim eyes meet Emma, clouded with the kind of shame she understands far too well. “Didn’t think I’d need it when I had another blade, but uh—where was I, exactly?”

“No, no, I’m counting it.”

"Pirate."

“Documenting all the reasons Gepetto owes me.”

“Of course, of course, Sticking his son in the cupboard, wardrobe, magical box, whatever, also led to the little bastard—”

“Killian!”

“Was he not? Would you like to come up with another adjective? I’m sure we could agree on something especially creative and rather scathing.”

Rolling her eyes isn’t the perfect response, but there are also several thousand things Emma would like to call August Booth or Pinocchio or whatever he’s going by now, and it’s nice to have someone in her corner. Metaphorical or otherwise. “Anyway,” Killian continues, “the cad did a handful of things that warrant the name, and then for good measure, he went and turned to wood a few weeks ago.”

“Oh, fuck that was really only a few weeks ago, wasn’t it?”

“I believe so.”

“Shit.”

“An appropriate sentiment,” Killian agrees, and Emma’s not sure if he’s moving closer to her or she’s moving closer to him. Specifics are unimportant. Particularly when he appears to be some sort of human heater. 

“So, you see, Swan, the old man certainly owes you several debts. Or the jackass—”

Which is a very strange sentence, out of context. 

“—Bastard’s better, honestly.”

Kissing the top of her hair is an impossibility. There hasn’t been much kissing, really. Sitting almost on top of each other, sure. Neither one of them ever seems entirely willing to concede any personal space, as if standing too far apart will only lead to another, more permanent separation and Emma’s often wondered if he’s ever a little grossed out by how sweaty her hand gets. When she continues to hold his. 

She hopes not. 

So, kissing is off the table. 

“Maybe Gepetto would be willing to carpet our stairs, then,” Emma mumbles. “Although it does seem like a lot of work, and then upkeep. There are other things we could—” She doesn’t realize what she’s said at first. Not until Killian noticeably tenses, pulling his head away from her’s, which is another marker in the kissing column she can’t even begin to acknowledge.    

And yet, Emma’s so sure she feels him move. Certain shifts of his shoulders and a soft exhale that seems to help her heart settle back into a biologically correct rhythm. She’s spending far too much time thinking about science.

“Why are you on the stairs, love?”

She sighs. Sags under the sudden pressure in the air and the tears that almost immediately well in her eyes, staring at the awkward angle of her knees. “I wanted to know if there was an en suite bathroom with the master.”

“I have no idea what those words mean.”

Whatever sound she makes isn’t so much a laugh as another huff of wholly emotional air, but Killian’s lips twitch when Emma finally turns her head and that’s got to count for at least several things. “Is there a bathroom connected to the largest room in this exceptionally enormous house?”

“You don’t know?”

“What was that about not answering questions?”

He catches her cheek that time, a quick press of his lips that sends a shiver down her spine and roots her to the spot. As if she were otherwise capable of moving. Her knees are at like, seventy-two degree angles. It’s because her feet aren’t flat on the step. 

“Why would Henry ever know what a waterfall shower is?”

The banister could probably hold garland. For Christmas. Emma’s not sure she’s ever actually seen garland in real life. 

“There is, aye. With something Henry claimed was a waterfall shower and a bath with claw feet.”

“I haven’t the foggiest, but he was rather impressed by it. Less so by the claw feet.”

“Sounds fancy.”

“It was,” Killian says, voice dropping ever so slightly on the past tense that also manages to twist Emma’s barely-functioning heart. One internal organ shouldn’t go through so much in a single conversation. “Is still, I suppose. In the right place.”

“Which isn’t this.”

“Is that why you didn’t go upstairs?”

Emma shakes her head. “No, no, I didn’t really when I was—well, it was never really my house, was it?”

There it is. Laid out in metaphorical black and white and hanging in the minimal bit of air between them, not the only question, but maybe the biggest question and she doesn’t want to put carpet on these stairs. 

“Can I just ask you something?”

He doesn’t say anything about it. 

“Were you going to buy this house?”

It’s the other eyebrow that lifts this time. “You just did.”

“I certainly would have liked to.”

“With dubloons and a questionable exchange rate?”

“—Booty?”

Killian tilts his head. Several strands of hair fall dangerously close to his eyes and that one arched brow. “We’ve already covered my tendency to err towards piracy, love. Occasionally that lead to—”

“A fabrication of your more modern and occasionally crass realm.”

"Bastard."

“Not technically,” Killian objects, and the emotional whiplash of this is giving Emma legitimate whiplash. She might not let him up. She knows he won’t try to get up. “Several other rather insulting things, but I understand the confusion. What’s your question?”

“Swan.” He gapes at her. As if the suggestion is insulting somehow. “Who would bury treasure? Seems like quite a lot of work only to guarantee more later. I have a passable assortment of coin from various realms—”

“So you don’t have buried treasure?"

Emma squeezes her hand. Resists the real urge to swing her legs perpendicular over his, if only to help the overall state of her knees. Both of which may very well be frozen like this. “Are there jewels on your ship as well, Captain?”

“A variety, in fact.”

Color dots his cheeks, a victory Emma is going to cling to for at least the next seventy-two hours in this hell hole. Killian kisses the bridge of her nose. “Nothing particularly nefarious, just hidden compartments. Boxes, crates and the like. Good to keep things like that hidden from suspecting royal eyes.”

“Where are you hiding those? I was fairly certain we’d seen most of the ship."

“Am I the royal in this scenario?”

“Something we’d be all too willing to overlook if you help evade taxes, Your Highness.”

Letting out another laugh that’s far shakier than Emma would like, her head falls to the crook of Killian’s shoulder. He doesn’t smell the same. Not here. No hint of sea salt, or that bit of sunlight that always seemed to cling to the leather of his jacket, but there’s still a trace of warmth and life and it’ll be easy to see the Jolly anchored in the harbor. 

“Anyhow,” Killian continues, “there was ample choice as to how the house could be bought, and paid for. Nearly in full.”

This house has a sitting room. 

“Shit, seriously?”

He hums. Like exchanging jewels for a house is simply part of the hum-drum of life, and not a total subversion of adulthood as Emma knew it. In theory, at least. With mortgages and interest rates, but she’s also fairly certain Storybrooke doesn’t have a bank and most of her sheriff duties just afforded her room and board at Granny’s. 

“I could probably help, you know.”

Her mother never made her pay rent.

“With?”

“The house,” Emma clarifies. “I just—I mean, I know I kind of freaked in Camelot, but then there was the flame and that was good, and a claw foot tub really does sound stupid fancy—”

“Say stupid fancy again, please.”

“You’re not helping.”

“But you’d like to be.”

Seriously, shrugging is so lame. “In theory, I guess. We’ve just...well, you and Henry looking for a house is—”

“—Overstepping.”

“Nah, that’s not it. It’s nice, really. But if we’re going to—” Emma has to swallow. Lick her lips, Pointedly ignore whatever it is her tongue is doing, because it feels suspiciously like her tongue is growing in her mouth, and she can’t rationalize the nerves. Fluttering around the pit of her stomach. “If we’re going to live here, then we should both live here, right?”

“Give me some of those insults you came up with for August.”

Chuckling lightly, Killian brings Emma with him when he leans back against a stair several stairs above them. It’s not particularly comfortable, but it’s not entirely bad either and that’s probably not a metaphor for the moment. “Both of us living here was my end goal, I’ll be honest.”

“Who was selling it? It’s weird that people sell houses, right? I thought Gold owned just about everything in this town.”

“You’re a curse behind, love.”

“Oh, shit that’s right. So—do you think there were more people from the Enchanted Forest who came over with my parent’s version? I mean, there had to be, right? Although Robin and the Merry Men came with Zelena’s garbage. Then there was—”

So, really she’s got a stockpile of backlogged favors and work experience and—

“Perhaps you should conduct a census, Sheriff. As far as Henry and I knew, the house was simply available. It’s possible when your parents enacted their version of the Dark Curse, it provided more housing. Simply tapped into all that goodwill.”

“My curse?”

“Dark Curse and goodwill seems like a contradiction.”

“Well-placed intentions, at least.”

“Like my mom saying she could pull mayoral strings to make it all official?” Emma adds, rushing over her own words now. Killian’s smiling. She doesn’t bother looking. “I guess that is nice, but...I don’t know, getting our own house on our own terms seems kind of—”

“Important?”

“Something like that, yeah. Like it’s a...shit, if I use the phrase fresh start out loud will you make fun of me?”

“Only a little.”

He’s absolutely smiling.

“That’s fair,” Emma mutters. “I guess it feels like if it’s ours, then everything else will be. Maybe a new couch though. That one was kind of...stiff.”

“Sounds suspiciously like a euphemism.”

She’s smiling too. And exhausted. And strangely, almost happy somehow. “You would think that.”

“Which also sounds suspiciously like an insult.”

“Nah, but I think I could be more enthusiastic about the tub than the showroom sofa.”

“Opens up a whole slew of bathing opportunities,” she says, tilting her head up to find the smile slowly turning to a smirk and that particular version of the glint in Killian’s eyes makes her pulse sputter. “Just saying.”

She gets it. 

“That was the euphemism.”

Like, gets it. In surround sound and with flashing lights for good measure, and the prospect of more kids isn’t really something that’s ever crossed her mind. And yet this house. With its bare walls and, she’s sure, ridiculous square footage gives her several seconds of much-needed pause, letting thoughts take root and blossom in the center of her chest and all of those thoughts deserve to be said out loud, so naturally Emma mutters: “My parents think we should go back to their loft. For, uh the foreseeable planning future.”

Idiot. 

Before. 

One thing at a time.

She’ll fix that eventually too, she’s sure. 

“I love you,” Emma whispers, not entirely expecting a return sentiment. That makes the words all the better, breathed against her jaw and that spot behind her ear, and she can’t imagine what these stairs are doing to Killian’s spleen. 

He still doesn’t move. 

Joy arrives in the middle of the Underworld on the burst of Emma’s answering laugh, magic fluttering at the back of her brain and buzzing at the tips of her fingers. The same ones somehow still curled around Killian’s hook. 

“Ours, Swan. That’s how it’s supposed to work, right?”

Ours, ours, theirs. 

“Where’d you get the sword?”

“Locksley and I stole them from a crypt we found on the other side of town.”

[tomtenadia]

Island Dreams - Chapter 6

* Insert greeting here according to your time zone.*

So, chapter 6 is here. A bit of development fro our two idiots. Hope you like it.

I have chapter 7 and 8 down but they need heavy editing. Also, last night I was inspired and I did manage to plot the skeleton of the story, so I know exactly where I am going. There should be 28 chapters and an epilogue.

Well, I hope, in the meantime that you will enjoy this one.

Spot the HoF references :)

---------

The next day Rowan was back at work. He opened on time as usual and a couple of tourists came into the shop but left quite quickly. Probably not impressed by the lack of tacky touristy stuff. He was working on re-organising a shelf when the door opened and he was not ready to see again the person who crossed the threshold. “Hey you.” The woman smiled at him tenderly. Rowan forgot how to breath. Aelin had her hair in a braid and a straw hat on her head. A nice colourful shirt and then his gaze trailed south. She was wearing shorts and the sight of her long tanned legs almost killed him. It looked like Aelin was ready to go on a tropical beach to suntan and relax all day. She was a goddess. And she was in front of him. Smiling. “Back at you.” He said, getting up slowly, not trusting his legs. He felt he could faint anytime at the sight. “I am here for my book.” A timid smile appeared on his lips then his legs finally moved and did manage to cover the few steps taking him to the counter. He grabbed the book and handed it to her. He hesitated for a moment, as if to try and have a conversation but then decide against. What was he going to say anyway?

“Have fun.” That was the safest comment he could make. “I bet you are dying to know how it finishes.” Aelin grabbed the book quite eagerly and held it to her chest “Hell yeah. The fake queen has lost her marbles and she deserves to die. Painfully if possible. And I can’t believe that the main couple got separated, they are at the opposite extremes of the continent and that bastard of trusted member of her court told her, her lover was dead. And the plot twist at the end?” Rowan laughed. Actually laughed and for Aelin it was the most beautiful sound she ever heard. The smile reached his eyes and he was even more stunning. “Be ready for a lot of angst though.” Aelin dismissed him with her hand “I eat angst for breakfast, lunch and dinner.” They were talking. Not about what happened but he did not care. “Have you read The cursed kingdom?” “Of course.” “Well, if I survived the angst of that book I can survive anything.” She explained. “I have a present for you.” Her book went on the floor and she began fumbling in her backpack, clearly looking for something. “Ah! Here it is.” In her hand there was a small rectangular packet wrapped in bookish paper. Rowan took it suspiciously and opened. At the sight of the gift a roaring laugh erupted from him. Such a genuine laugh that left Aelin stunned. That could not be the same person who told her she was nothing to him. “So now when you open the fridge you will think of me.” She explained, pointing at the tacky fridge magnet with Stornoway written on, now in his hands. He smiled and attached the magnet to his metal pen holder on his desk “I spend more time here than at my fridge. Now it will always be in front of me.” They were talking and laughing, it looked like somehow the fight they had was just a bad memory, but he could not forgive himself for what he said to her. How could he apologise for his behaviour? He was terrible at this kind of things. How was he going to explain the chaos that was his heart at the moment? Then he remembered about the dark haired guy and the book and sadness engulfed him. “I wanted to apologise.” She surprised him searching for his gaze. Her blue eyes met his and he could not look away. “I said horrible things.” She continued. Aelin placed the book on the counter and moved a step in his direction, closing the distance “I was having a bad day and I think I exploded and took it out on the wrong person.” Rowan moved a step closer to her as well “I said horrible things too. You were being nice and brought me coffee. It’s just that…” he paused. He was so bad at this “I am not good at communicating with people as you can see. You are not just a customer….” “Mo charaid” he heard her whisper and smiled. “You are learning…” he added. He extended his arm and took her hand in his “I’d love to try an be your friend.” With a swift motion he pulled her to him, to his chest and she felt amazing against him. She was shorter and her head fitted just under his chin. Her arms caught him off guard when they wrapped themselves around him. “I am a mess.” It was a whisper from her but he heard it “I am a mess. My life is going belly up and some days I feel like drowning.” She looked at him and for a moment he was speechless. There was so much pain and anguish in those beautiful blue eyes of hers. “I am lost…” She whispered never removing her gaze from him “…and I don’t know the way.” At those words, his heart ached. He hugged her tighter and hoped that his action would help. Maybe his actions would convey better his feelings. A hug was all he could give her just now, but he hoped it helped a little bit. “I am a bit of a mess too.” Finally he confessed to her. She was being honest to him. She deserved a bit of his honesty too. “A bit stuck, as my aunt would say.” She is stuck too. Aelin leaned back from the embrace and put a hand on his chest, near the heart “When you are ready.” His hand covered her on his heart “When we are both ready, we will tell each other our stories.” “We will help each other.” She added softly “And maybe we could find our way back together.” He nodded and felt lighter for a moment “Together then.” “To whatever end.” Said Aelin in a solemn tone. Rowan grinned “that’s cheesy. It sounds as if it came from an epic adventure where the main hero is ready to embark in a dangerous mission. Sitting on his horse, sword wielded high and he shouts that.” “I did read it in a book actually.” Commented Aelin, laughing at the scene he had painted. With a huff she pulled away from him and walked to a shelf, grabbed a book and when she returned she shoved it in his face “You even sell it.” Rowan grabbed the book from her hands and set it aside. He was definitely going to read it. “If you spoiler it, I’ll kill you with my own hands.” She stopped again right in front of him and looked up “To whatever end…” a faint smile painted her lips “It could be our motto.” He grabbed her hand and put it back on his heart “Sounds epic enough for the two of us.” They had made some progress but he could not stop thinking about the other guy. And he could not risk asking her. She had probably seen the note which meant she knew that he knew, but he decided to give her some space. Also, the two of them were just friends. But a pang of jealousy hit him nonetheless. Anger flooded in him at the thought that he might kiss her. Or worse. It was not his place to be so possessive but that nasty emotion had been festering in him since the day the stranger had come to buy the book for her. He pushed the bad thought away. Having her back and being her friend had to be enough for now. He could not give himself to her completely until he had dealt with his life and his issues. Then she looked past him and noticed the books on the floor and the empty shelf “were you rearranging books?” “Yeah, I was playing with history section. It needed a sprucing up.” He looked at her face lit up in joy. “Can I help you? I love rearranging books. Please? Pretty please?” There was no way he could resist her. Not when she pleaded with her radiant smile. He gave in. “Fine. come.” He moved away and all of a sudden he missed the contact with her hand. They both went to the shelf and Rowan started explaining her how he was planning to reshuffle the display. “We can put some of the best historical books on display on the table, to advertise them.” She grabbed a book about the neholitic settlements “Like this one. Or this one about the Iron Age house in Bosta.” She continued “It’s such a cool place.” “And how do you know about Bosta?” “I… I was there.” He saw her hesitate and wondered if she had been there with the other guy and hated the thought of the two of them together. It should have been him to take her to all these places. Take her to Callanish and make her smile with all the myths connected to the place. Go at night and have a picnic under the stars and the Milky Way. It should have been him. That was jealousy. Dark, horrible jealousy. “Did you like it?” Aelin nodded “But my favourite was Callanish…” she looked at him and thought about the book and his note “It was such a magical place.” “It is. I have to take you there at the Solstice.” The big smile painted on her face was so beautiful it hurt. “I… felt something when I was there.” She started trying not to feel like an idiot for what she was about to say, “I sat down with my back against one of the stones, inside the circle and the chambered cairn and I just felt something.” She chuckled “Gee, now I sound like a lunatic.” Rowan placed a hand on her shoulder “You don’t. I have felt things too. Can’t actually describe what, it’s not something you can put into words easily. Especially at the solstices. I always go there for both winter and summer solstice.” “Ever seen the shining one walking down the avenue on midsummer’s dawn?” Rowan shook his head “No, he/she is still eluding me.” “Well, wonder if this year is the year we’ll see him.” “And…” he stifled a chuckle “Where else have you been?” “I have seen Callanish VIII. The stones on Great Bernera.” “Oh, so you have been busy.” He joked, while emptying the shelves to try and concentrate and hide from her his true emotions. If only he had been nicer from the start… “A bit.” Aelin took a few copies of the book he had chosen for her about Callanish and arranged them nicely on the table in a very attractive display. She then grabbed a few other different books and piled them nicely to fill the table. At the end she took a step back and admired her masterpiece “I am a genius.” Her arms folded at her chest and a big grin on her face. Rowan looked up from his position and felt suddenly the desperate desire to kiss her “You have a high opinion of herself.” He mocked her, adoring the expression painted on her face, nose scrunched up. “Give me a week. I swear, you will finally start to sell these books. If I win, you buy me lunch. If you win, you can ask me one question about myself.” Aelin hoped he took the challenge. She wanted to say that if he won he would have to confess something about him, but after his reaction, she decided it wasn’t a good idea yet. “I just hope that you are ready for a mortgage because I’ll get the biggest lunch your aunt can cook and make you cry.” “Ha.” He shouted pointing a book at her “Maeve is my aunt, she will not make me pay.” “Whatever, I still get my free lunch.” Rowan stood and eyed her display and he had to admit that she was quite good “This is actually quite nice.” “Well, at least I know that now that my medical career has gone to shit, I can always become a bookseller.” She added sadly. “You are a doctor.” Rowan added stunned by that confession and by the realisation that apart from her name he knew nothing about her. “I was, am… I… it’s complicated at the moment.” and she gave him her back. Gently his hand touched her shoulder and Aelin turned to face him and Rowan noticed her eyes filling with tears. Withe the back of her hand she wiped her face and pretended to be strong. Although in reality it hurt. Sometimes so much that she could not breath. There was anger in her, so much anger, and despair. “I am fine.’ She sniffled “Don’t worry about it.” “Aelin…” his hand was about to caress her cheek but she grabbed his wrist and stopped the gesture “No. I don’t need your pity.” She grabbed quickly her backpack, book and hat “I should go. I wasted enough of your time already.” She turned and left the shop not looking at him. Rowan stood immobile with a book in his hands and stared at the spot where she had disappeared. And all of a sudden he knew what question he wanted to ask. He wanted to know more about this woman. Discover what horrendous things had happened in her life to bring her to tears that quickly. She was hurting. Badly. Then all of a sudden he thought of the perfect idea to bring a smile back to that gorgeous face of hers.

Aelin left the shop and took the road to get to Lews castle. She followed the path through the park and ended up at the marina and eventually crashed on a bench in a spot a bit far away from civilisation. She took her phone out and called Lysandra and her friend answered after a couple of rings. “Darling…” Lysandra’s voice sounded out of breath. Shit had she interrupted something? “I guess you finally have a day off.” “Uh-uh…” said her friend “It happens you know?” “Lys, are you with Aedion just now?” “A bit.” Aelin laughed “So, I guess his hands were good.” “You have noooooo idea.” Aelin smiled “Hey, have fun you two. I’ll call you tomorrow.” She paused “Just… don’t make an aunt yet.” She said her goodbye to Lysandra and stood and then went and leaned again the pier barrier and admired the sea and the marina. She needed to talk to Lysandra. She had to tell her her current situation and how she was torn between two men who were completely the opposite of each other. She liked them both. They were both interesting and fascinating people in their own respective way.

Shit. She was in such deep, unending shit.

[nightcoremoon]

weird opinion but christians aren't religious.

ok so like, jews generally follow god's rules, muslims follow allah's rules, hindus probably follow their gods rules, so on and so forth. and overall they do it out of faith; they do it because they want to honor the deity who loves them rather than because society forces them to.

granted the zionists and the radical extremists and the zealots do exist but as loud minorities and thus are statistical outliers & don't matter.

christians are... a different breed.

"if you aren't x branch and dont obey y rules you'll go to hell so we'll fucking murder you" is pretty much the main driving force behind a significant portion of christianity in history. the catholics, the protestants, the orthodoxy, all are built on a foundation of fear, anger, and hatred. it's shaped the way society developed; in the 4 nations that did the most genocidal imperialist colonialism- England, France, Spain, and Italy- a combination of convenient coastal locations, naval prowess, military tendency, christianity, and ultranationalism lead them down a path of missionaries, holding bibles in one hand and bloodstained knives in the other. the religion is inseparable from the culture and inseparable from the horrible things done in the name of their god, and the resulting cancers of society we feel today from the campaigns of slaughter. xenophobia. capitalism. savage barbarism via sensationalized capitol punishment. misogyny. queerphobia. gender fascism. classism. racism. all of these issues in the "civilized world" stem predominantly from those four nations and the disease ridden pestilent filth some call pilgrims.

here's something interesting:

there are less than 1 million rastafari in the world.

there are less than 5 million shinto in the world.

there are less than 25 million jews in the world.

there are less than 30 million sikhs in the world.

there are roughly 100 million african cultural religious adherents in the world.

there are less than 400 million chinese cultural religious adherents in the world.

there are about 500 million buddhists in the world.

there are about 1.1 billion hindus in the world.

there are about 1.2 billion nonreligious people in the world.

there are 1.6 billion muslims in the world.

and one final statistic

there are over 2.1 billion christians in the world.

the jewish count is a highball, rounded up, and includes several different definitions of jewish including people who are only one quarter. so for every single person who is even remotely jewish, there are more than 8 christians. for every hindu, there are 4 christians. for every atheist, agnostic, or "other", 2 christians. this frightening statistic should set off warning bells for everyone who is involved in a discussion about religion. and anyone who knows BASIC world history and can correlate data at all can probably piece together what I'm putting down.

now, I may be slightly biased here considering my eclectic religious beliefs. now, I personally believe that there is some primary force of energy that may or may not manifest itself as a humanoid being, that engineered the most basic laws of physics in the universe: atomic magnetism. as can be inferred by planck's constant and its implications, our universe is digital, written in binary. an electron either moves or doesn't move. there are no other options. so I genuinely believe in some form of intelligent design; whether it's a bearded guy on a cloud, some dude with six arms and an elephant for a face, just a big swirling pool of ectoplasm, or a big ol' plate of spaghetti and meatballs, something is out there that we are physically incapable of contacting from our plane of existence, just as a drawing on a piece of paper cannot reach out to interact with the world: a gif will move on its own but it will never acknowledge our existence, even if it could think by itself. and all the different mythologies of the world- egyptian, greek, norse, shinto, whatever- very well could be the agents of that unknown "god". perhaps anubis, ra, and bastet are just angels with animal heads that all of the peoples of ancient egypt saw and were like oh I guess this must be a god. maybe zeus and loki were the same person with a magic dick who fucked a bunch of animals in both greece and the scandinavian countries and spawned all of the horrible half-animal monstrosities that, idk, made vishnu think "well I have to kill that" and caused the biblical flood or something. maybe the jewish god gifted wisdom to siddhartha for sitting under a fig tree for 6 years through the angel pomona [roman goddess of fruit, had to google that one], so buddha gets his wisdom from demeter and is in nirvana right now right a step up from hades on yggdrasil the world tree keeping an eye on his charge persephone. any theory could theoretically be true but we ants of humans will never fucking know because we can't just point a telescope at the magellanic clouds and say "look, there's amaterasu with russell's teapot, and she's having tea with... *rubs eyes* lemmy kilmister??? wow I guess gods are real after all!" it's impossible to know the secrets of our universe because of the very restrictive nature of the universe itself. is it a circle? is it a donut? WE DONT FUCKIN KNOW.

we cannot know what religion is truthful.

""anyone who says that any one religion is more or less true than any other is a fucking moron, and if they're suggesting that White Western European Colonial Imperialist Protestantism is the one true faith, they're probably a fucking racist colonizer who beats his wife/sister and burns gays at the stake. and considering how that exact demographic is typically the one that murdered people for not converting to their religion, I don't think they have the intellectual non-deranged ability to make those logical connections.

again, I'm not saying that there AREN'T a lot of people of every religion who are evil assholes who contributed to mass genocide. israelites killed palestinians. shiites killed sunnis. hutus killed tutsis. danes killed geats. turks killed armenians. the ottoman empire has as much blood on its hands as the holy roman empire. germans who called themselves aryans but weren't actually aryan killed jews. but all of these tragedies were isolated incidents rather than repeated patterns over the course of two thousand years. not like christianity was and is.

just look at the United States, Canada, Mexico, Hong Kong, South Africa, Australia, & India's British Raj. Britain, France, Spain, and Italy, by extension Protestantism and Catholicism, are the shared factor between the long and bloody history fraught with massacring indigenous populations who wouldn't convert religions. native americans, indigenous canadians, latin americans but predominantly mexicans, the eastern chinese, coastal africans, aborigine aussies, indians- coastal coastal coastal. true the western chinese and the mongols/hunnu and xinjiang muslims haven't exactly been on civil terms and the silk road has always been a battleground and the middle east was already tenuous before murrica bombed them for oil but those happened in such a spread out area among asia which is FUCKING HUGE, MIND YOU! but also that's three high traffic places with massive diversity, it's human nature to have conflict, but not nearly to the same level as all of the shit christianity has done to the world. it's impossible to separate the religion from the cultures; victorian england without protestantism is just dirty people who die at 15 from having their 3rd child. italy without the catholicism is just grass and cheese. france and spain without religion are just kingdoms that fought wars with england for forever and now just make food that's one part delicious and three parts horrifying. religion is directly responsible for a significant portion of the evils those countries committed. one religion in particular.

they don't practice religion the same way as the rest do. they aren't faithful to their god. they don't follow his rules out of love but out of fear. they execute dissenters without a second thought, heresy they cry. they execute women and little girls for being free thinking or having sickness associated with mercury poisoning in the water, witch they cry. they slaughter men women and kids alike in the name of cramming their beliefs down the natives throats, we're chasing out the snakes they cry, we're bringing god to your godless people they cry, we're just civilizing you they cry. they shit in the streets and proudly display rotting corpses and leave the impoverished disabled and starving to die alone and whip their slaves and rape teenage girls and scrap in the streets while sopping wet with spilled ale over insignificant insults and stab people to death in the night and never even fucking BATHE, and they have the nerve to say the natives were uncivilized. the nerve. because hey. they read a magic book they stole from a culture who stole from another culture who stole from another culture, mistranslating each time from hebrew to greek to italian to english, and they think they're better because their skin is white.

christians never evolved. their mentalities have stayed the same. all thatms advanced has been technology. that's it. they're still the same evil disgusting degenerate bastards they always were. they just have the money they stole to buy stained glass windows, rosary beads, giant tacky metal statues, bigass robes, leather, and printing presses. and as time passed they used the money they continued to steal to buy cars and websites and radio stations and commit felony tax evasion and secretly molest children and line the pockets of the politicians.

all of their holidays are stolen from pagans anyway.

so fuck christmas. fuck easter. fuck lent. fuck the golden calf christian holidays that the tiny minded fragile snowflake conservatives lose their collective shit over because the pandemic response common sense stipulations won't let them buy the shit they can't afford with money they shouldn't have for people they don't even LIKE, all in the name of tradition, tradition! the rituals that worship something so much worse than satan or baphomet or pan or whatever: the dollar. they buy all the new shiny shit they can, at the expense of the chinese kids that the corporate pigs outsource to, buy the pine trees and the coca cola vunderbar and the fake mint corn syrup Js and watch the same shitty cookie cutter white supremacist hallmark fash movies and stuff their kids full of enough sugar to go into a goddamn coma when the african slaves who pick the cocoa beans will never get to know what actually being a kid will ever feel like because they're gonna die from falling into a combine harvester and be eternally forgotten to history and no christian will ever give a shit because they don't fucking care about what they don't see on their safe space news or hear on their safe space radio or read on their safe space social media. they think their worst sin is eating cheeseburgers so instead they'll go eat a mcchicken or chick fil a or an arby's chicken sandwich instead but not at popeyes because "that place is sketchy" and by that they mean they don't wanna eat where black people eat, that's why cracker barrel was so popular for so many white christians for so long because it had racially segregated seating until barely 20 years ago.

they don't love jesus. they love a paper doll they shove into their back pockets until every other sunday where they go to a fucking mall with a baptism waterslide and raise their hands like a bunch of dumbass weirdos and away to adult contemporary indie schlock with the word jesus pasted into a boring-ass hetero romance song, pat themselves on the back, then go to starbucks to scream slurs and misgenderings at 14 year old starbucks baristas who give them a cappamochalattechino instead of a fucking carmamochalattechino because you mumbled under the mask you didn't even fucking cover your nose with because you don't give a shit about the virus beyond how it inconveniences you.

they are horrible people who pretend to be good. until you suggest the slightest infinitely small inconvenience to them that would alter their holiday plans even the littlest smidge. then they would kill you if not for the police. don't get me started on them because you know by now what I'd say about those fuckers. but they'll gladly wear shirts about how they'll kill you. how they'll go back 200 years. how they'll murder you and watch you slowly suffer because their primate brains shoot a million endorphins when they watch things die by their hands because they never evolved a sense of empathy, compassion, or morality beyond how wearing a cross necklace will remove any of the consequences they will face in their afterlife.

they are horrible people who pretend to be good. unless you're gay or black or trans or Not Christian™ or mexican or disagree with them about politics economics sociology science technology music or movies. assimilate or die. assimilate or die. assimilate or die.

they don't deserve special treatment for their false idols.

they aren't better than jews or muslims.

they're worse.

so much worse.

and they should be stopped.""

-Nightingale Quietioca

save as draft arch draft bookmark draft where did I put my keys contra code kontra kode I need to remember this and copy it buzzwords keywords find it later please god tumblr don't bork on me this is good stream of consciousness repackage repackage change the words this is a great character study if I do say so myself thanks 3am me you're welcome 3am me

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 47 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Violet bombed her design pitch, and Adore and Pearl broke up.

This Chapter: Violet gets a lovely surprise, Aiden gets angrier, and Courtney comforts a friend.

***

“So,” Fame looked over at Raja, leaning back on the green velvet couch. “What do we think?”

Ivy had come by with lunch, two salad containers now sitting half empty on the table. They had received printouts from Ivy with the original couture sketches, whatever samples the designers had handed them, and polaroids of the garments as they looked today.

“About the couture looks?” Raja smiled. They were talking about the Spring collection, but Raja was also finalizing the dresses and roles for Monday’s holiday collection showroom show.

“Mmh,” Fame nodded, fiddling with her thumb, the edge of her manicure looking like it was cracking.

“Who do we want this on?” Raja held up one of Kiara’s holiday designs, the dress a lovely red. “I’m thinking blonde?”

“Good call.” Fame smiled, that particular dress without a doubt ending up in Chad Michaels’ closet. It always got Fame in the best of moods to watch Raja work, her friend at her very best when she was pulling final styles together, her eye for the entire picture unmatched.

“We still need a holiday dress for Raven,” Raja smiled, holding up her fiance's headshot. “Opening or close?”

“Who says she’s getting either?” Fame teased, a laugh leaving her when Raja shot her a look. “I want her closing. She does that very well. Makes everyone feel like spending money.”

“Mmh,” Raja smirked, a proud expression on her face, putting Raven with one of the prettiest dresses in the bunch. It was weirdly romantic how Raja always looked out for Raven, though Fame was sure she’d deny it if she was ever confronted directly.

“Okay,” Raja sat back on the couch, putting her elbow on the back, golden bracelets clacking on her wrist as she rested her head on her hand. “What’s the verdict for couture?”

“Hmm,” Fame chewed her lip, flicking through the folder on her lap. “I think Alexis should open. This sky-inspired piece of hers,” Fame pulled the sketch out, “is lovely.”

“I agree.” Raja nodded.  “And closing?”

There were several to choose from, but if Fame was being honest, there was only one that made sense for her.

“What about Violet’s?”

“Violet’s?” Raja sounded genuinely surprised, her eyes widening. “I thought you hated it?”

“What? Why?”

“Because you cut her off?”

“Raj, please,” Fame rolled her eyes. “She was talking my ear off, explaining all these incredibly unnecessary details when her work clearly spoke for itself. It’s very unbecoming to need that much reassurance of a job well done.” Fame pulled Violet’s dress from the folder, the flared sleeve and horizontal beads exactly what Fame wanted.

“Aha.”

“Good.” Fame put it down on the table, not noticing the small smile on Raja’s lips. “We’ll email everyone, and start looking for our exclusive models if we need anyone from overseas-” Fame paused. “Hold on. I have to call Courtney. This manicure is driving me absolutely crazy.”

***

It was always a rare relief when Fame decided to go into Raja’s office for a meeting rather than the other way around, and today was one of those lovely days, Ivy taking care of everything they needed and urging her to go take a real lunch break while she had the chance, that she’d call her back if necessary.

Which for Courtney meant a visit to her favorite department at Galactica: makeup. It was incredible how just walking into their suite made her whole body relax, the bright and sunny creative energy something she absolutely craved. Even the way people dressed was better down here: bright colors and fun patterns and hair every color in the rainbow. Alaska gave her a warm welcome as always, inviting her to sit down and eat with them, even sharing some of the Chinese food they’d ordered, which was a very nice addition to Courtney’s own sad little garden salad.

“You know,” Kim said, wiping her mouth with a napkin as she took in Courtney’s face, eyes squinted as if imagining the way the colors would look, “the Spring Rain palette would look amazing on you.”

“Omigod, it so would! Let’s try it out!” cried Amy, clapping her hands. Amy was the department’s coordinator, and Courtney hadn’t spoken to her much, but based on her electric-blue pigtails and ruffly Lolita dress, she knew she liked her.

“Whaddaya say, Court? Wanna be a canvas for a bit?” Alaska asked.

“Sure!”

Soon, Courtney was sitting in a director’s chair as Kim and Amy went to town on her face.

“Are your eyes green or blue?” Kim asked, tilting her chin this way and that in the bright light.

“Green. But I think in some lights they look blue.”

“Yeah, this cerulean is really picking that up.”

“Try adding a bit of the peacock,” Amy suggested.

“Yes! Good call!” Kim said, picking up the palette again.

Courtney closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of brushes being swiped against her skin, Kim’s movements both precise and certain. It was awhile before Courtney felt any urge to speak again, asking a question that had been on her mind for awhile.

“Um...do you guys know Bianca Del Rio?”

“No, I wish!” Kim chuckled. “She’s such a badass.”

“We have mutual friends. Why?” Alaska smiled curiously, and Courtney suddenly felt a bit embarrassed.

“Well...I don’t know, I was just wondering what you think of her.”

“She’s everything I want to be when I grow up,” Amy piped up, swatching a few lip colors on Courtney’s arm. “She’s supposedly a real ball-buster, but my friend at Marie-Claire says she’s a decent boss. At least, people like working for her.”

“That’s cool,” Courtney said, biting her lip, cheeks growing hot under the lights as she worked up the nerve to ask what she really wanted to know. “What about, um...her...dating history. She’s gone out with a lot of girls, huh?”

“Yeah...she has,” Alaska replied slowly, exchanging a look with Kim as Amy stepped up to apply the chosen lipstick.

Kim waved a pair of lashes in the air, waiting for the glue to become tacky.

“The thing about Bianca is…” Alaska paused, seemed unsure of whether she should continue, before saying, “She’s not really into relationships. She just doesn’t ever seem to want more than flings. I mean, we’ve crossed paths dozens of times over the years, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her with the same girl twice.”

“Oh.” Courtney nodded, settling back while Kim applied her lashes, wondering why her heart was pounding so fast.

“But that said, I mean...she does seem to treat people pretty well. You certainly never see girls crying about her in the tabloids, which I think says a lot, considering her...volume.”

“It helps that she’s apparently god-level in bed,” Amy giggled.

“Don’t trust the rumors,” Alaska warned.

“Well, I’ve heard it from someone first-hand, so…” Amy trailed off, giving a suggestive wink before reaching forward to finish the look with a delicate, shell-pink lip gloss, as Courtney tried her best not to squirm in her seat.

“Umm...anyway…” Alaska began awkwardly, when loud buzzing from the table interrupted. “Oh, Court, it’s Fame.”

Alaska handed her the phone, the usual seizing of Courtney’s stomach whenever her boss called telling her that the fun was over.

“Hello?”

“Courtney. I’m done with Raja, and my thumbnail is chipped.”

“Ye-”

Fame hung up before Courtney could respond, leaving her slightly puzzled.

“Thanks guys, this was super fun,” she said, sliding off the chair and grabbing her handbag, knowing she’d be expected to send a memo to design right away, along with apparently finding a manicurist to come to the office? Maybe?

“Wait!” Kim cried, holding up a lighted mirror for her to see the whole look.

“Wow.”

It was certainly a lot more colorful and dramatic than the makeup Courtney normally wore, and for a split second, she let herself imagine that she was backstage getting ready to perform, or on the set of some glamorous photo shoot, before pushing those silly fantasies down and giving Kim a grateful smile.

“Thanks, really, you guys are awesome,” Courtney said, internally lamenting the fact that she had to leave this colorful and fun office to go back to the stark white institutional tension upstairs.

***

From: Courtney A. Jenek To: (undisclosed)

Subject: Spring Runway Selection

MEMO TO GALACTICA DESIGN AND TAILORING DEPARTMENTS

FROM THE OFFICE OF MISS FAME

Please find attached the selected looks for the opening and closing of the Spring runway show, along with the alternates that we are keeping in the show, placement TBD.

Additionally, make sure to note the following upcoming deadlines in relation to the Spring couture collection:

December 5, 7 pm - submission for the rest of the Spring couture runway looks

December 11, 7 pm - final revised Spring couture submissions

December 12 - Selection of final couture looks/alternates

December 14 - Individual designer meetings with tailoring dept

December 18, 11 am - First fitting

January 11, 11 am - Second fitting

***

“Oh...“ Violet couldn’t believe it.

She had clicked on the placement, hoping that her dress would be in there somewhere, Trixie’s promise that nothing would get scrapped completely not enough to reassure her, but there it was, in black and white.

Her first couture look for Galactica was closing the fucking Spring show.

“Holy shit-” Violet whispered, the information not sinking in at all.

She had been chosen, she had done well, she was making the company proud.

Violet was just about to panic, everything so overwhelming, when a second email ticked in.

From: Courtney A. Jenek To: Violet Chachki

Subject: Fwd: Spring Runway Selection

OMG ALKDJALSKDJALDJ IM SO HAPPY FOR YOU!!!11 AKFJSALKFJASLKFJALFSD CONGRATS!!!!!!!111

Violet snorted, Courtney’s excitement radiating through the screen, that message somehow making it real.

From: Violet Chachki To: Courtney A. Jenek Subject: Re: Fwd: Spring Runway Selection

Thanks

***

Aiden closed the door to Trixie’s office firmly behind him, using all the strength in his body not to slam it with full force. He briefly imagined how good it would feel, to be able to make the walls vibrate with all of the rage he felt inside. Instead, he swallowed down all the bitterness and headed to his desk.

It had been an awful meeting, Trixie pulling his typical nice guy act to say that he was “concerned” about Aiden’s “attitude” and wanted to make sure that he was gonna be the right fit for the Galactica team long-term. That he wanted to see more collaboration with the other designers, and as a learning experience, he should be prepared on Monday to assist backstage for the Holiday collection show.

Assist.

Aiden was a designer, not a fucking tailor, not a fucking assistant, and this was going to be a new low. Not to mention that he was already in a foul mood, having seen the selection for the opening and closing Spring runway looks. That new little brat, the baby with no experience, not like Aiden, had been chosen to close the show.

He sat at his chair for almost a minute, saying nothing, just breathing deeply. Before Kiara asked, “Everything alright, dude?”

“Oh yeah. Everything is fucking great!” Aiden snapped, not bothering to stay and take in the stricken look on her face before getting up and marching to the restrooms, where he could at least lock himself in a stall and get a tiny minute of peace and quiet.

***

“Omigod, I’m so happy to see you!” Adore exclaimed, pulling Courtney inside her apartment, over to the sofa. “I stole a bunch of alcohol from Bianca before I left, so I’m well stocked! What do you want?”

“Gin and tonic?” Courtney asked, taking off her coat and settling down against the plush velvety purple fabric of Adore’s sofa.

“Coming right up, ma’am!” Adore exclaimed, walking over to the open kitchen to pour Courtney’s drink.

“So, you seem...how are you?” Courtney ventured, knowing that Adore was probably still in a fragile state, but not wanting to destroy what seemed like a decent mood.

“Well you know… It’s been shit. But I stayed with B all week and she’s like, kinda the best in this situation. She didn’t even gloat over being right.”

“Aww, that’s sweet. I’m glad she took care of you.”

Adore set Courtney’s glass down.

“Yeah, it was nice.”

There was a firm knock on the door, and Adore jumped up again, running to answer.

“Pizza’s here!”

“Pizza?”

“Yeah, I ordered ahead because I knew you’d be working late and you probably haven’t had a real meal all--thank you!” She closed the door, carrying the boxes and a bag over to the coffee table and setting it down with a smile.

It was such a sweet gesture, and Courtney was truly starving, so she almost felt bad reminding Adore, “Um...I’m still doing that vegan thing, remember?”

“Oh shit. I’m so sorry, I totally forgot, I-” Adore bit her lip, looking more distraught than was probably necessary, given the circumstances.

“It’s okay, I’ll just pull off the cheese, don’t worry!” Courtney reassured her.

“But you’ve told me like a billion times and I keep forgetting and I’m just the worst friend ever,” Adore sniffled. “I’m so sorry.”

“Baby, it’s okay, really.” Courtney crawled over to Adore, hugging her tightly.

“It’s not. I got you a kale caesar salad too because I know you used to like those but that’s not vegan either. God, what is wrong with my stupid brain?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all. You’re human, you make mistakes. It was still so nice of you to get all this.” Courtney pressed a kiss to her temple. “And you know what? I’ve been so strict for a few weeks, I think it’s okay to have one cheat day.”

“Are you sure? We can order Chinese or Thai if you want, or there’s-”

“I’m sure. I came here to try and cheer you up. Not to make you feel guilty.” Courtney snuggled against her, head on her shoulder.

“Okay. We can postmates some vegan gelato for dessert.”

“Perfect.”

Adore sighed, leaning her head against Courtney’s for a moment before sitting up and opening the food. Courtney accepted the plate from her, pulling the cheese off her pizza and shaking up the caesar salad - she decided that she could handle the dressing if she omitted the little container of parmesan.

They ate in silence for a few moments before Courtney looked up at Adore and asked, “Do you want my cheese?”

Adore’s eyes widened, looking down at her plate.

“Yes!”

She took it with such enthusiasm that it made Courtney laugh.

“Was this the plan all along?”

“I wish. I’m not that smart,” Adore told her.

“Yeah you are. You’re very smart. You’re the best.”

Adore held her gaze for a few moments, eyes welling up before the tears spilled down her cheeks. She covered her face, and Courtney shoved the plates aside, laying Adore’s head down in her lap.

Courtney stroked her hair for awhile, letting her cry, not saying anything, tears soaking into her skirt and tights. When her sniffling finally subsided, she asked, “So on a scale of 1 to 10...how much do we hate her?”

Adore rubbed her red, swollen eyes. “That’s the hardest part. I don’t really hate her at all. I mean, I asked her to be honest with me, and she was, and...it just wasn’t what I wanted to hear. So...no, I don’t hate her. It would be too exhausting to hate her.”

Courtney took her hand, holding it tight and solemnly saying, “Okay. Then I’ll hate her for you. So you don’t have to.”

Adore’s face crumbled as her tears began falling again.

“You’re the best friend in the world.”

“No, you are,” Courtney said with a grin. “Come on, let’s go wash your face and order that gelato!”

***

“I just can’t believe that my dress is going out on that runway, like, I was so sure Fame absolutely hated it, and-”

“You don’t need to chop the parsley that finely lovely eyes,” Sutan smiled, stirring the pasta puttanesca sauce they had made together. Sutan wasn’t necessarily the best cook in the world, neither he or Raja ever really picking up on their mothers love of spending time in the kitchen, but he could do a few dishes well, and after seeing Violet’s fridge, he had made it a mission to make sure his girlfriend had a minimum of culinary experience.

“Oh,” Violet paused, looking down at the cutting board. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sutan pressed a quick kiss against her temple, standing side by side in the kitchen surprisingly nice. “I know it’ll be just as amazing as your holiday dress.”

“Please,” Violet smiled, though Sutan could see on her face that she was pleased. He wasn’t going to buy anything at the show, but he was still coming along, both to test one of his newer models, but also because he wanted to see what Violet had created in action.

“I’m serious.”

The sauce was almost done, Violet pulling a face when she had seen him slice up the anchovies, but Sutan was pretty sure that she’d like the dish, if what she tended to gravitate towards could be used as any indication.

“Would you mind setting the table?”

“Not at all,” Violet smiled, putting the knife down, quickly washing her fingers, her jewelry left in the little bowl by the sink that Raja and sometimes Raven had used when they all lived together.

Sutan hadn’t actually noticed it until Violet had dumped her rings into it, the fact that it was there completely escaping his attention, interior design never something that had interested him.

When he had gotten married to Kahmora, he had moved from this apartment directly into her place and back again after their divorce, how she wanted things decorated not anything that had mattered to him in the short time they had been married.

He had never really lived with Jinkx, their relationship thankfully never moving any further than their disastrous engagement, but he was fairly certain that he wouldn’t have been asked about his preferences, shame momentarily curling in his belly at the thought of how unfair and terrible he had been to Jinkx.

“Sutan?” He was pulled out of his thoughts by Violet’s voice, the woman standing by his cabinet with a smile on her face. “Did you buy wine? To have with dinner?”

“I got us a bottle of red.”

“Okay,” Violet nodded, grabbing the wine glasses from the shelf. Juju used to complain when she came over, and had told both Raja and Sutan multiple times that the apartment was furnished for giants, but Violet never had trouble getting anything.

Sutan’s alarm went off, telling him it was time to drain the pasta, Violet handing him two plates so he could serve up their meal, both of them sitting down at the table.

“Do you like it?” Sutan smiled as he watched Violet taste the food, a thoughtful expression on her face as she chewed on it.

“It’s fine.”

“So you hate it?” Sutan lifted an eyebrow, a smirk on his face.

“No!” Violet seemed outraged. “Don’t put words in my mouth.” Violet kicked him under the table, smiling now. “It’s nice.”

“Sure,” Sutan laughed, Violet’s deadpan deliveries still something he was getting used to, her dry humor a lot more enjoyable than he had ever imagined. “Good.”

They ate for a while, chatting back and forth, Sutan refilling their glasses, Violet almost finished with her pasta when she put down her fork.

“I-” Violet looked at him, her teeth biting into her lip. “I’ve been thinking about Aspen?”

“Yes?”

“And I’d like to go.”

“Oh?” Sutan wasn’t aware that it had been something she had been considering, the fact that she was even thinking about turning it down not even crossing his mind.

“Well I’m glad.” Sutan smiled, hiding his confusion. “Mostly because I already booked your plane ticket.”

“Really?” Violet sounded genuinely surprised, almost as if she wasn’t sure if he had been serious about the offer.

“Really, not that I would have forced you to come.” Sutan tapped her foot under the table, Violet still such a mystery to him. “Raven on the other hand,” Sutan smiled. “That could have been a problem, since she’s bought matching everything for you two.”

“... What?”

***

ADORE: Courtney’s a vegan, you know.

BIANCA: Yeah, she told me.

ADORE: I keep forgetting like an asshole so I just wanted to make sure you knew and would have some vegan stuff on thurs

BIANCA: It’s gonna be 100% vegan, I hired a chef to cater. She even making vegan relleno de pavo

ADORE: WAIT WHAT

ADORE: How the FUCK do you make vegan relleno de pavo?

BIANCA: I dunno, but she’s a professional.

ADORE: And what about the corn pudding? IT NEEDS BUTTER

BIANCA: Would you relax? It’ll be delicious

ADORE: WHAT ABOUT THE TURKEY

BIANCA: I don’t eat turkey. You’re outvoted 2 to 1.

ADORE: BIANCA DEL RIO I’VE HAD A VERY TRAUMATIC WEEK! IT’S THANKSGIVING! TURKEY!

BIANCA: I’ll get you a package of fucking Hillshire Farm, calm down

ADORE: I want to be mad at that but I love Hillshire Farm. lol

BIANCA: You’re welcome

BIANCA: Btw you’re also welcome to cook whatever you like and contribute to the meal

ADORE: Um...no thanks

BIANCA: Thought so, cunt

[iraprince]

Do you have any tips for getting an audience of tumblr or Twitter. Sometimes I just get frustrated when a drawing I spent 6 hours on gets 3 notes or 2 likes and a retweet.

i think it’s really hard to have one size fits all advice for something like this — the internet is so vast, i only really know how to navigate my own specific niche of it, and different artists will always appeal to different audiences, so stuff that worked for me might not work for you. BUT i can try my best — i just can’t guarantee any of this is replicable bc especially with the new age of incomprehensible algorithms i just never know what’s going on at any given time

first off, a big disclaimer for transparency: a lot of my Big follower gains have been from my Hashtag Relatable mental health comics getting tons of notes. i do NOT!!!!! recommend making mental health content to try to get popular!!! i think doing so will put fucking worms in your brain!!! it will poison you and your brain will dribble out your ear holes like soup. i think that it is already complicated enough to navigate all the weirdness of like... making vulnerable stuff like that available for consumption, and doing it in Hopes of going viral and getting lots of followers can imo literally only end poorly. hhhhhowever, i would feel really weird if i like... glossed over the fact that i know that’s where a lot of my followers have come from, or acted like that didn’t happen, so. i just have to like, mention it. my takeaway here is if you’re going to make mental health content FOR YOURSELF because you WANT to, brace yourself for it to potentially circulate, and be ready to feel really weird about it, but i do not recommend it as like... a way to purposefully grow an audience.

ANYWAY. with that nagging out of the way. actual advice

1. fanart, but only of stuff you really actually like. it is literally just a fact that it’s easier for people to feel invested in and care about characters from stuff they’re already invested in than original independent content. it’s not wrong to court that! but i think u should only pour energy into fanart of stuff u actually like — not bc chasing after whatever the current BNHA-type thing is rn is “selling out,” who gives a shit, but bc the end goal is to have an audience who WANTS to see what YOU want to make. you want people who care about your specific set of aesthetics and interests, not ppl who will unfollow en masse the second you fall off trend. (if you DO tend to really like what’s super popular, there’s nothing wrong with that! that’s lucky for you, genuinely.)

2. self promo all the time. this one can be hard bc it feels embarrassing at first. you feel like you’re spamming people or being annoying or self centered. but listen: people follow literally hundreds of accounts. you remember every time you’ve boosted your drawing; most of the ppl who follow you probably didn’t even see it. and if they see it twice or three times among the literally hundreds and thousands of posts anyone sees per day that is not a big deal. stuff gets lost! timelines and dashboards move fast! i cannot count the number of times i’ve seen something cool and thought “oh i’ll check that out” and then five minutes later i’ve forgotten bc of information overload. you have to constantly remind people that you exist and that you make things and i promise you you’re not being as annoying as you think you are. (i know you guys don’t see this in practice from me much on tumblr; that is bc i don’t really like it here and i don’t understand the vibes. i never shut the fuck up on twitter)

3. follow and engage with your peers, not just people with 10k+ followers who have already “made it” or whatever. this is not advice about growing an audience so much as advice for not feeling super shitty while you’re trying to grow your audience. i’m not saying that people with tons of followers/bustling online shops/enamel pin empires are like a completely different category of person of whatever, that’s not my point; clout is not direct deposit and just bc someone is popular doesn’t mean they’re coasting by without worries; etc etc. but my point is that i used to only follow very popular, established artists who were, in my mind, “out of my league,” and i spent all my time beating myself up for not being them or being consumed with jealousy and resentment. but... spending more time with artists who are kind of at the same ssstage of figuring things out as i was, as much as any individual journeys can ever be “the same,” was much more encouraging and inspiring and energizing, and helped me reset my concept of what “success” means for independent creatives into something more healthy. don’t wear yourself out chasing after people who seem to be moving way faster than you, especially if it’s making you feel like shit! find some people who are walking at a pace you can relate to, take interest in their stuff, talk and form connections. you’ll feel better.

4. just draw the stuff you want to even if you don’t think it has audience appeal. literally just draw exactly what makes you happy. this sounds like i’m trying to pull some corny Just Be Yourself! Believe In Your Art! shit and i mean yeah i guess but i also mean that literally from experience there was a significant surge in interest + appreciation of my work when i went apeshit and just decided to do the most self indulgent shit possible no matter how cliche or tacky or cringe or whatever it was. people respond to sincerity and passion, i really believe that. people can tell when you’re having fun and they like it. who doesn’t wanna be around someone who’s always having fun

that’s about all the stuff that i think could be considered like.... more or less universal. i dunno!!! just keep at it. the internet is a nightmare i don’t really know how it works

[daybreak-delusion]

Chapter 7

Introduction: Whitney Goodwinson was planning on inheriting one of her deceased grandmother's properties, but not a little house off the coast of North Carolina.  As she struggles to meet new people, fix up her new property, deal with troublemaker JJ Maybank, and perfect her grandmother's infamous lemonade, she might just find that the Outer Banks has more to offer than it seems. 

Series Masterlist 

Previous Chapter

After the long walk home I took a shower, finally, and went straight to bed. It had been an excruciatingly long day and I was ready for some sleep. Thankfully the next morning I wasn’t awakened by the annoying sound of a lawnmower. I took a shower to clean off my sleep and changed into some shorts and a simple blouse. The one good thing about the humidity is that it was making my normally frizzy curly hair look normal. Back in my room after looking around at my mess, I decided that would be a cleaning day. I put on my headphones and shuffled my cleaning playlist and got to work. I started with my room, unpacking my bags, finally, and organizing my clothes in the closet. Then I moved to the bathroom, cleaning the mirrors, countertops, and disinfecting the shower and toilet with some cleaner I found in the kitchen. I spent three seconds debating whether or not to go into Grandmother’s room and then turned into the living room. I vacuumed, dusted, and disinfected some more. The kitchen was the worst, I kept sneezing from all of the dust when Fernando by ABBA came on. Oh my god, this was my song. I picked up a spoon and pretended to sing to my adoring fans. 

“There was something in the air that night, the stars were bright, Fernando!” I was practically screaming by the time the chorus came on, dancing to the beat like a maniac. 

“They were shining there for you and me for liberty-” 

“Hey, sunshine!” yelled a voice from behind me. Screaming I turned around and saw JJ leaning against the back door frame. He was wearing the same tacky shorts as yesterday and a white t-shirt with some fishing company logo on it. 

“How long have you been standing there?” I said, taking off my headphones blush creeping on to my face. 

“Not long, I’m here to pick the lemons and just need to get a bag,” explained JJ walking towards the pantry getting a reusable bag out. 

“Oh right do you need any help?” 

“Oh no I’m good, wouldn't want to cut your little concert short.” 

“Ha, ha,” I laughed sarcastically, “be sure to bring them back, I’m thinking of trying Grandmother's lemonade recipe.” 

“Really?” he stopped before heading out the door giving me a quizzical look. 

“Yeah, I was thinking about making a batch for good measure.” 

“Well good luck with that, Vicky was really particular about the way she made her lemonade.” 

“Oh, I think I can handle a little lemonade.”

“If you say so, I’ll be in the greenhouse,” he said humming the chorus of Fernando on his way out the door.  When he left I shook off my embarrassment and I turned back to dusting the shelves. After a while, I realized how hungry I was. The only food that I’ve had was dinner last night with the Camerons and the only food in the house was some stale saltine crackers and beer, which was kinda concerning but I tried not to look too into it. One thing was for sure, I needed food. Like now. Thankfully just as I was about to try my luck with the saltines, JJ walked back in with a bag full of lemons. 

“I only got about 10 this batch but next week we should get about triple,” said JJ walking in through the back door. He placed the bag on the counter and reached into the fridge to grab a beer. 

“Thank you, also do you by any chance know of anywhere to eat?” 

“Um yeah my friend’s family owns a restaurant, it’s called The Wreck, they got great sandwiches. It’s about two miles into town.” 

“Sounds perfect, you want anything?” 

“Uh no, no I’m good just tell Kie I said hi,” he said taking a swing of his beer as he walked towards the back door. 

“Do you ever drink water?” I asked. 

“Not if I can help it sunshine,” he replied with a wink walking out the door. 

That boy was going to die of liver failure if he kept his drinking habits up. A problem he’d have to deal with. In the meantime I needed food. That’s how my search for transportation started. No way was I gonna ask for a ride from Rafe and I’m pretty sure JJ just materializes everywhere, so I had to either walk or find another way. 

Another thing I was oblivious too when I first arrived was the garage to the left of the house. Hopefully, Grandmother left a bike or even a skateboard for me. I walked the dirt path to the old little garage. It’s kinda how I imagined what the house would have looked like if I’m being honest. It was even more faded yellow then the house with a rusty white painted garage door. Cobwebs were everywhere. I was terrified that I would have to encounter the creatures that made them. I was half expecting the handle to fall off when I pulled the door up. It opened with an ear-piercing screech and a cloud of dust. When I stopped coughing my lungs out I saw it. A vintage yellow Volkswagen beetle with a rack on top for surfboards surrounded by at least 50 cardboard boxes. I just stared at it for a few seconds admiring the car. I’m not exactly an expert on automobiles or whatever, but something about vintage cars really got me going. On the left of the garage was a bulletin board with a couple of keys tacked to it labeled with different things. I found the one that said car and prayed that the thing would start. The outside of the car was covered in dust, but thankfully the inside was a little cleaner. The only problem was that the car was a stick. Now I haven't driven stick in two years. Grandmother always said any person with a brain could drive automatic, but it took a real driver to learn stick. It was a miracle the car started in the first place and all I had to do was pray I remembered how to drive it. 

I only stalled a couple of times in the beginning, but eventually got in the grove of changing the gears. As I drove I was hoping I was imagining it but people seemed to be looking at my car as if it were on fire. I’m pretty sure I would know if my car was on fire or not so I kept going. Eventually, I found the little restaurant and pulled into a parking spot. The Wreck was just preparing for rush hour when I walked in. The floor was worn by the many footsteps that had walked into this establishment. The walls were decorated with pictures that looked as old as the restaurant and stickers from different surf shops and fishing companies. What I noticed most of all was the salty and intoxicating smell of freshly made french fries. I was practically salivating when a girl about my age approached me. 

“Welcome to The Wreck, what can I get for you,” she said with a tired, but genuine smile. She had her dark curly hair tied up in a messy bun with an old gray headband keeping her flyaways out of her face and was wearing a dark green bikini top under her tank top with the logo of the restaurant on it. 

“Hi, I hear you guys got great sandwiches,” I replied. If my instincts were correct this girl was Kie, JJ’s friend. 

“Yeah, we got tuna, turkey, roast beef, and our specialty lobster.” 

“Do you actually have any vegetarian options?” 

“Oh, you’re a vegetarian? So am I!” she said with a little more energy in her voice. 

“Yeah have been for the past two years.” 

“Wow I started about three years ago and am trying to make the switch to veganism.” 

“Good for you!” 

“Thank you! Most of my friends make fun of me for it, but I just can't stand the thought of eating a living creature. Anyways just one vegetarian sandwich?” 

“Yes please and some fries as well, also I’m sorry if this is too weird to ask , but are you Kie by any chance?” 

“Uhh yeah how did you know that?” she replied giving me a look that said, “who is this weirdo and how does she know my name?” 

“Okay cool, I’m Whitney and your friend JJ works… I mean worked for my grandmother.” 

“Oh my god, no way your Vicky’s granddaughter of course!” she said the look she was giving me melting into a smile,” I knew I recognized your car from somewhere, your grandma would come in here every Sunday for brunch, there gotta be a picture of her on the wall if you wanna look. She was such a sweet lady. JJ mentioned that you were in town I don’t know why I didn’t put that together and you had dinner with Sarah’s family yesterday right?”  

“Yeah I did, she has an interesting family.”

“God tell me about it, her brother is a piece of work.” 

It seemed like everyone had some kind of beef with Rafe.

“I had to spend the afternoon with him yesterday and it was excruciating. Thankfully JJ saved me.” 

“He saved you? Usually he’s the one to get people in trouble.” 

“Yeah I heard something like that, but so far he’s proven his usefulness.”

“Well I’m glad he hasn't screwed you over yet,” she said noticing the lunch rush was about to start, “So just the sandwich and fries?” 

“Yeah and just whatever JJ usually gets, he’s over working right now and I figure I’d get him something to consume that wasn't a cheap beer and make it to go please.” 

“Alrighty then a vegetarian sandwich with a side of fries and a The Barrel Roll Burger coming right up. That’ll be $15.25.” 

I pulled out a twenty and put the change into the jar when she was looking the other way. While a man, who I assumed was Kie’s father, was making my order I looked at all of the old photographs and stickers on the wall. I failed to find any of Grandmother but a newer looking polaroid stood out to me. It was of a group of teenagers sitting around a table in the restaurant. I recognized Kie, Sarah, and JJ with two other handsome looking boys. Geez what was in the water on this island, everyone seemed to be incredibly attractive. JJ was shoving some sort of food in Kie’s face while Sarah and one of the boys were pretending to make out, I assumed it was her boyfriend John B, while the other boy just looked straight into the camera like he was on The Office or something. They all looked happy and seemed to be enjoying their afternoon. I couldn't help but notice how close Kie and JJ were and a twinge of jealousy sparked in my stomach. 

“Order up Whitney!” called Kie with a brown bag in her hand. 

“Thank you!” I replied, “You have no idea how hungry I am.” 

“Well come by anytime, we got the best food on the island,” she said with a smile. 

“I sure will, thanks again!” I said walking out the door and towards my car.

a/n: So yeah apparently Whitney gets turned on by cars. Anyways thank you so much for reading! I absolutely LOVE writing and although sometimes it gets frustrating or I start to doubt wether I should continue or not I just keep going because I love it. Next chapter will be up Wednesday so stay tuned! Thanks again! 

[palettes-and-prompts]

100 First Meetings (Dialogue Prompts)

1) "Were you the one in the bathroom a second ago trying different lines in the mirror to work up the courage to ask that barista out?" 2) "Wow, you're cute." 3) "You come here often?" "This is a morgue." 4) "You! What the hell are you doing in here? We're closed!" 5) "Ahhhh! I hate my fucking life!!!" "Mood." 6) "You have magic?!" 7) "You don't look like you'll last a day here." 8) "You should leave before your date gets back from the bathroom, I saw them in here the other day popping the question to two different people." 9) "They never told me they had a younger brother/sister." 10) "Who's the twink?" 11) "I gotta ask, are you mad about something or is your face just /like that?/" 12) "You're my new roommate?" 13) "You're not married are you?" 14) "Hey, you're not dead are you? Cause I'm on probation and I can't afford to be involved in a fucking murder or something." 15) "So you're the one causing all this trouble." 16) "I need you to pretend we're dating so this dude will leave me alone." 17) "Honey, there you are I've been looking all over for you! Pretend you're with me so this person will go away." 18) "So you're the loud moaner from upstairs, huh, never knew you'd be so cute." 19) "You're not the pizza guy." 20) "You know, when I said I wish the love of my life would just fall out of the sky this isn't exactly what I had in mind." 21) "Any particular reason you're putting peanut butter in my kid's hair?" 22) "You made me dinner?" 23) "You've got the wrong room, but feel free to stay naked." 24) "You must be the motherfucker who broke my windshield!" 25) "Hi, you are very naked." 26) "You their new toy?" 27) "How'd you like to make fifty bucks?" 28) "I know I'm going to regret asking but who are you?" 29) "You got any friends?" "No." "Well you do now, come sit with us!" 30) "Cute face, I'd love to sit on it sometime." 31) "Where'd you find this dork?" 32) "Uh, there any particular reason you're screaming at two thirty-six in the morning? 33) "Out of curiosity, do you think you could lift a dead body?" 34) "If you don't let go of this bag of chips I swear to god I'll bring you to your knees in the middle of this fucking WinnDixie." 35) "WHO THE FUCK ATE THE LAST OF THE FUCKIN DORITOS, I SWEAR TO GOD I'LL-oh! I'm sorry, I didn't know we had a guest. If I'd known we had a guest I would've cleaned." 36) "Are you the vegan cannibal? Because I have so many questions." 37) "Ooh, hello Mommy/Daddy. Fuck, did I just say that out loud?" 38) "Am I dead? Are you an angel? Am I in heaven?" "Actually you're in a taco bell, you tried to do a kick flip on your skateboard in the parking lot and hit your head on the side of the dumpster." 39) "You brought a fucking guest to our SECRET BASE?! I'll deal with you later. Hi, hello, it's very nice to meet you please make yourself at home!" 40) "So, you gay or what?" 41) "No, sorry, we don't want any girl scout cookies." 42) "Holy shit, you just saved my fucking life!" 43) "Hey, honey, it's just me. You were in a really bad accident so don't try moving around too much, okay? How are you feeling?" "You called me honey. Do I know you?" 44) "Jesus, your face is about as red as your hair." 45) "Run along little ballerina, you wouldn't want to be caught hanging around the bad kids, would you?" 46) "No, I'm not the stripper, but I can be if you'd like." 47) "You ready to cut open some bodies?" 48) "Get in if you want to live." 49) "What are you looking at, short stack? Mind your own business." 50) "Your headphones aren't plugged in properly so I can hear everything you're listening to. I was going to tell you earlier but then you started watching the weirdest porn I've ever seen and I didn't want to embarrass you, but I'm about to leave so I figured I'd tell you before someone else sits around you." 51) "I don't know what they've told you but we don't need another member, go home." 52) "Hey, stop right there, you can't steal that! That's illegal!" 53) "Who's the nerd?" 54) "You look like the kind of person who wears days of the week underwear." 55) "So, how many pitchers of margaritas are you allowed to sell me?" 56) "My head fucking kills, I shouldn't have drank last night. Hey, wait, why do you and I have matching rings on our fingers?!" 57) "Congratulations, idiot! You just ruined a six month plan and now we have to start all over!" 58) "That is the ugliest shirt I've ever seen, where can I get one just like it?" 59) "I know you make straight A's, but I'm still not sure if you're really smart or dumb but really lucky. Because I've seen someone ask you what the square root of pi is and you answer with 'I don't know, I guess it depends on the flavor.'" 60) "Who the fuck let you in?" 61) "Hey, I'll give you twenty bucks if you take a photo with me to make my ex jealous." 62) "So, you eat ass or what?" 63) "You a cop?" "No." "Too bad, you would have looked good in a uniform." 64) "With a face like that I'll be whoever you want me to be." 65) "Hey, you have eyes, do you think this outfit makes me look fat? You can be honest, I can handle it." 66) "I'm just looking for a nice person to settle down with who'll fuck me hard and tell me they love me when they cum on my face, like, I feel like that's not too fucking much to ask for, you know? Anyway, I'll have a diet coke and the chicken salad, please." 67) "I swear to god, this is not what it looks like." 68) "First of all, don't you fucking come in here and try and start a fight with my best friend while you're looking straight goofy as hell in those fucking Walmart shorts and those thrift store crocs." 69) "HEY! YOU ACROSS THE STREET! YOUR DOG IS SO FUCKING CUTE AND I WOULD FUCKING DIE FOR THEM!" 70) "Anyone who says they don't like musicals is either lying to themselves, has never watched one, or is a heartless android sent by the government to blend into society and collect information about us." 71) "Asking someone out is easy, watch this. Hi, I think you're cute and if you're not seeing anyone do you want to go out sometime?" 72) "Hey, I saw you crying earlier when you stepped on a bug. Do you need me to, like, call someone for you?" 73) "I can't tell if you're really high and just hungry or if you're buying 28 family bags of shredded cheese at three am because you just love cheese. Either way you should probably also buy some laxatives or lactaid while you're already here." 74) "When I told you to make a power point about something you're passionate about for our first class meeting I didn't mean make a power point on 'How to Give Great Head' and I absolutely didn't tell you to include pictures." 75) "Are you wearing that tacky ass outfit because you genuinely like it or because you're a Leo and crave the attention?" 76) "Did you really just buy the last chocolate chocolate chip muffin? You are now dead to me." 77) "The fuck are you looking at loser?" 78) "Dude, books are just like subtitles without the movie." 79) "Hey, in your tinder bio is says your friends call you Badger Slammin' Sam and I literally only swiped right just to find out why." 80) "Are you hitting on me? Am I being punked? Are you a hooker? Did my dumbass friend put you up to this?" 81) "Hey, I need you to settle something for me and my friend. Which is the right way to pronounce carrot?" 82) "Do you believe in love at first sight, what about disgust at first glance?" 83) "Look, I'm not saying that MCR's last album changed my life, but I'm absolutely saying that." 84) "Can you move out of my way, I have to clean puke off the floor before I'm allowed to use my lunch break to cry in my car." 85) "Hi, I believe this very drunk person is your roommate, they told me this is the address. I caught them in my backyard playing with my dog again." 86) "I know you're probably not allowed to do this, but I kind of need to borrow an iguana." 87) "Hey, I saw you drop your sandwich in the parking lot earlier and start crying and I felt bad for not saying anything earlier, but I went to the sandwich shop and luckily the dude remembered your oddly specific order so I got you another one. I hope you get to feeling better." 88) "No, we don't sell 'that crazy kush' here, you can try Target." 89) "I was just calling because you sent me a picture text three weeks ago by accident with the caption 'When they let you deliver the digiorno after you clap them cheeks.' and I was just wondering if you could explain what that means because it's been keeping me up at night ever since you sent it." 90) "Hey, I just overheard you talking with your friends about how you put mustard, ketchup, and ranch on your macaroni and cheese and I just wanted to come over here and personally ask you which circle of hell you crawled up from." 91) "What the fuck is a diet water?" 92) "You guys here for the orgy?" 93) "Was that your scream? Why did it sound like a banshee?" 94) "I saw you pour two five hour energy shots into a cup of coffee earlier and then proceed to mix it with monster and red bull and like, dude I know this isn't really my place or whatever but I think you should probably go to the hospital. Like, I think you're gonna die." 95) "Your profile said you're a vegan but my profile says 'Only contact if you eat ass' and you contacted me, so what's the truth here?" 96) "Call me adorable one more time and I'll knock your teeth down your fucking throat." 97) "Move, I have to go fail my Stats test before I can go home and cry into a bag of hot cheetos while I rewatch The Office." 98) "I'm sorry, did you just order a fifty piece mcnugget for here, for yourself?" 99) "So, how do you feel about lizards?" 100) "Question, are you a top or a bottom, because you're giving off major power bottom energy but I'm not one hundred percent sure."

[inactiive-shit]

Live A Little

Fandom: Sanders’ Sides

Title: Live A Little

Prompt: Ghost!side

Warnings: death, implied (past) murder, ghost, blood

Pairing: Platonic LAMP

Words: 2,213

@sanderssidescelebrations​ Chim-chim-churree, bucko. I tried for fluff and my brain kept trying to make me incorporate angst so this is kind of bittersweet. But I love my child. Here is the best I have:

This time of year was, objectively speaking, the best.

Logan was not biased, don’t think that he would ever let his current circumstances affect his opinion. It was a simple fact that fall was the best time of year. The beautiful trees and the pleasant chill in the air and the smell of crisp early mornings were, objectively, some of the best things in life.

And Logan would know that because he had lost his life. About twenty years ago, and he won’t go anymore exact than that because he still looks like a twenty-something college kid, but he would digress. Logan knows these are the best aspects of life because they are the things he misses the most and also the things that he can feel the best even after death.

His liking this time of year has absolutely nothing to do with Halloween, or the thinning of the veil, or it being the only time of year he can be seen by everyone, or that he can feel things, or that people don’t run screaming from him when they see him. They actually congratulate him on such a realistic costume, and Logan has long since given up on trying to convince anyone he’s actually dead. They always think he’s inebriated or pulling some sort of prank. He doesn’t mind so much anymore. He’s just glad that he can hold any sort of conversation with someone who isn’t a particularly enlightened cat.

Things start to get fun every year around eight p.m. That’s when Logan becomes corporeal again, and also when he is finally able to be seen by the masses. So, as eight p.m. rolls around, Logan steps out of the stupid house he is confined to every other day of the year and begins walking.

His legs tingle like he’s been sitting cross-legged too long and now they’re coming awake again. He relishes in the feeling, even if it’s not pleasant. It’s something, and that’s a lot better than nothing. The wind batters his face and a beautifully orange leaf smack into the tacky blood pasting his hair down and sticks. He smiles, pulling it off and tossing it back to the elements. He watches as it whisks down the street in the first breeze he’s felt in a year. A few drops of rain land on his hand, so Logan tilts his head back and lets the rain sprinkle onto his face. After a year without even the slightest bit of liquid touching, the rain feels exquisite. He fights the insane urge to giggle and allows himself a few seconds of basking in the rain. Then he composes himself and continues walking. As much as he’d love to drink in all these sensations forever, he only gets twelve hours. There is so much more he wants to do before this night is over.

There is a house about four blocks away. It is more of a mansion than a house, and nobody owns it. Students from the local college flock to it every Halloween for the biggest party that anyone in the state has. Logan knows, because even back in his day it was an impressive party. The police have a long standing deal with the college students: it doesn’t get too loud and nothing gets destroyed, nobody gets arrested. This, too, has been in effect since Logan was as young as he looks. The students had, of course, been banned before, but they kept coming back. Now the truce has been in place for over two decades. Logan’s never been more happy that a law can be so casually broken.

Logan only went to a few parties in his life (nowhere near enough, if you ask him now. He loves the socialization more than anything else.) They were all good parties for the time, but now is a whole new ball game. There are amazing lights and decorations and types of food he’s never seen before. People bring their handheld cellular phones with them everywhere, and it’s a technology Logan had never imagined in his life. They contain cameras, make calls, send written messages, access the internet (something Logan wishes to high heaven that he’d had in college), and so much more that is far beyond his comprehension, given his limited time to interact with them.

Even with all of that, all the crazy things he can’t even fathom having existed before, he loves these parties. He can drink (though never get drunk), he can eat (though he is never hungry), he can talk (and be heard), and he can touch others. Logan never realized how much he took his senses for granted until they were revoked like some cosmic joke. But for now, he has them. He can stew about not having them once they’re gone again, and he’s back to being no more than a semi-famous news story and The Poltergeist of Auburn Street.

Logan walks into the party and the very first thing he does is grab a cookie. It’s a simple little pumpkin, and the gel-like icing is dripping off slightly, but it is delicious. He purposely bumps into a few people as he makes his way around the already packed room. It is not yet eight thirty, and already ‘Spooky Scary Skeletons’ is blasting from the speakers. Strangers are making out in strange places, and Logan watches them for only a moment before turning away. He hadn’t really been a fan of such things when he was alive, either, and it is one societal expectation that he does not miss at all.

Logan mingles with the warm bodies around him until nine o’clock when he sees who he’s been waiting for: Patton Foster. Behind Patton walks Roman Prince, brandishing his smile like a weapon. The last person in, loitering in the door like a vampire, is Virgil Avery. They make the most interesting trio that Logan has ever seen, none of them have anything in common, and that probably has a lot to do with why he fits in with them so well.

“Lolo!” Patton cries and throws his arms around Logan’s neck as soon as he steps into his path. “How’ve you been? What have you been doing?” Patton is easily the most genuine person that Logan has ever met. When they met in Patton’s freshman year at this very party, Logan was just sitting on the stairs, watching. Patton had asked what was wrong like he’d known just from a glance, and they’d talked, and then he’d met the other two, and they all clicked together like puzzle pieces, separated years ago by an errant creator.

Somehow, it seemed fitting that Logan would make the best friends of his life after he died.

“Good, Patton. I’ve been good. Not doing much.” Logan wiggles out of Patton’s embrace, and Patton lets go quickly.

“Not doing much?” Virgil grumbles. “Wouldn’t you have seen the whole world by now, calculator watch?” Logan has no idea what that is supposed to mean - the nickname, not the sentence. What the cherry-covered fuck was a calculator watch?

“There is a lot more to the world than places, Virgil,” Logan says. They bump fists and then Roman drapes an arm around Logan’s shoulders.

“Where did you spend this year, again?” Roman asks, eyeing the crowd like a vulture. The first year Logan had met them, at the end of the night, all three of them had been devastated to find out that Logan didn’t go to their school. He told them he was traveling; all over the world. It was why he was never here longer than a night, and it was why they never saw him on campus.

“Australia,” Logan says. This is probably not where he told them he was going last year. He doesn’t remember where he told them going, only that it was far enough away they wouldn’t try to visit.

“What’s that like, kiddo?”

“Hot, dry. A surprising amount of deadly fauna, even knowing about it beforehand,” Logan says. He doesn’t want to be questioned about a place he’s never been, so  he asks, “What sorts of things have been going on for you?”

“Nothing good,” Virgil says, but he looks too happy in his skeleton costume for that to be true.

“Stormcloud passed his biology exam,” Roman proclaims, loudly, in Logan’s ear. Logan leans more into the sound and the heat.

“Barely,” Virgil says, but there’s no venom in the word.

“But you did pass,” Logan says. He pauses and adds, “I loved biology in high school. It’s a lot different in college though.” Logan can’t even begin to guess how far the field has come since his most recent knowledge of it. He had been majoring in biology; he loved the field work involved.

“That’s the spirit!” Patton says. Virgil and Roman laugh. Logan groans. A pun. A halloween pun. A Halloween pun that just so happens to hinge on the thing Logan is. How Patton manages it, Logan hasn’t found out. He may be a witch. He may be psychic and not know it. Whatever the case, he’s using his power for puns. It really is such a Patton thing to do.

“I starred in the school’s production of The Breakfast Club,” Roman says. He puffs out his chest. They reach the drink table and everyone picks up something.

“A wonderful movie,” Logan says. “I didn’t know there was a play based on it.” Roman stares at him with outright incomprehension.

“So you get my 80s movie references, but you’ve never seen an Avengers movie? Or Tangled? Or-or even something nerdy like Interstellar?”

“I have read the Marvel comics,” Logan suggests. Roman rolls his eyes, and Logan surmises that is not quite considered the same. “And I have been meaning to watch Interstellar since you told me about it last year. Though I have absolutely no clue what Tangled is supposed to be.” He grins as Roman goes off on a tangent about all things Disney. It’s endearing, if obnoxious, Logan thinks as he makes eye contact with Virgil and Patton. All three of them devolve into laughter, but Roman keeps going, undeterred.

“And Frozen! Elsa’s going to be a lesbian, and the Prince was the bad guy-that’s how you know he was never a real prince. A real prince like myself would never commit a betrayal like that! And what about The Princess and The Frog? An underrated masterpiece to be sure, but stunning! Everything about it was amazing! And there’s…” Logan’s not sure if Roman’s taken a breath since he started talking, and he’s only understanding about a third of the words he’s said.

Roman is the easiest to rile into such an impassioned state. He loves so much so fiercely that anything could set him off. Less often to see passionate is Patton. Not excited or even elated about something, but to see Patton with a bright gleam in his eye as he talks until there are no words left and you can feel his very own passion in your soul is beautiful. Least often to feel so strongly about something is Virgil. Logan has only provoked him into one passion-fueled rant (about caterpillars, of all things. Odd, but fitting.), but he is just as capable of feeling and expressing as either of the others.

Passion, Logan has found, is the heart and soul of life. Nothing quite compares to watching someone breathe life into something just from their sheer love of the subject.

But dancing comes close.

“Want to dance?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at Roman. Roman grins, takes a breath, and then extends a hand toward Patton.

“Padre? Would you do me this honor?” Patton giggles and jumps up.

“C’mon, Virge! It’ll be fun!” Patton and Roman are bouncing excitedly - in entirely different ways. Patton’s is a sort of rocking back forth from his heels to his toes over and over, as though he cannot possibly not move, even when he’s not walking. Roman’s is more of a jump, bending his knees slightly and then springing back up, so eager to get moving that he won’t wait for the time.

“I don’t know, guys.” Virgil withdraws into his hoodie slightly. Logan admires the patchwork design, something so lovingly hand-crafted that it could never really be replicated correctly. “Dancing’s not really my thing.”

“Come on, dark and stormy, nothing bad is going to happen,” Roman prods. He starts to pull closer to the other dancing people. Virgil doesn’t look completely convinced, and there’s only one thing Logan can advise here.

“Live a little,” he says, and he smiles because Patton would love the pun if he knew, and then he takes his own advice and for exactly one night, Logan lives. At the end of the night, he’ll tell his friends good-bye, regale them with ideas of the next far-off place he’s heading for, and then he’ll go back to his dilapidated house and come up with new ways to keep from going insane until next year’s Halloween party when he gets to see them all again. But until that happens, Logan won’t think about it. He takes Virgil’s hand, draws him into the crush of moving, breathing, living bodies, and they live.

[justacouplebandfics]

We’ve got scars on our future hearts (Jalex) - Chapter 2

Description: Alex dealt with self harm when he was younger, that’s over now though- he’s better, until he’s not. Struggling with the idea of self harming as an adult Alex keeps the issue to himself, but living on a tour bus with your band there’s only so long you can keep something a secret.

Warning: Contains graphic descriptions of self harm

It’s also available here on Wattpad, and you can find the masterlist here. 

Jack's POV

Something's up with Alex. The past few weeks he's been acting different, I think it's one of the benefits of being such good friends for so long, you can pick up on changes in each other that maybe someone else wouldn't see. He's been telling the guys that he's exhausted from the shows, and fair enough- this tour has been killer so far, we're all feeling a bit worse for wear. But I know exhausted Alex, he doesn't shut himself off like this- sure, he gets a bit quieter, and he might dip out of the occasional trip to the bar but he still thrives off being around  the rest of us. Being on the road for so long together it's like a family, we all support each other.

I also know Alex isn't the kind of person who'd tell you he's not doing okay to your face if you asked him point blank, he's been like that ever since high school. I know he had some issues back then, he still hasn't told me what he was dealing with but whatever it was it made him act the same way he's acting now.

I'm worried about him, not just passive worry, it feels like someone's grabbing my guts and twisting them in their fist when I think about him struggling through something on his own.

"So what do you think?" Rian snaps me out of my thoughts, and I look up to see him and Matt looking at me, clearly waiting for an answer.

"Shit, sorry guys. I was completely in my own head for a minute there, what were you saying?"

They both laugh, I hesitantly chuckle along as Matt gets up to grab a drink from the fridge. "We were saying," Rian starts, I flash him a quick apologetic look "The crew were talking about going to this club in town tonight after the gig, since it's an early one, I know we've all been a bit exhausted lately and it's only so long before that turns sour so it might be good to let off some steam."

"Have a good time" Matt pipes up from behind the fridge door "Did you even try to make that sound fun" he jokes as he sits back down.

I run it over in my mind- I'm super up for it, there's a reason I've got a reputation as a bit of a party animal, it's Alex I'm thinking about. Would he come? I don't really want to be leaving him alone on the bus all night, especially if he's not doing great. "Have you asked Alex?"

"He said maybe," Rian rolls his eyes.

"Then maybe" I shoot back with a cheeky grin.

"Fuck Jack!" Rian shouts, feigning anger "You're separate people, you do know you can go places without each other, come on, please? We haven't been out as a group in way too long." Matt nods in agreement "Obviously we'd love for Alex to come but if he's being a party pooper," he purposely exaggerates the last part, leaning out from the table so his voice carries down the hall to the bunks "that doesn't mean you have to be one too."

I sigh and look at him, "I'll talk to Alex."

"That's good enough for me!" Matt decides and stands up from the table, picking up his can of coke "Me and Rian are gonna go grab some lunch from that burger place next to the venue- wanna join?"

"He'll have to ask Alex" Rian quips, they both have a good laugh about it as I shake my head.

"I'm not super hungry, only just got up- I'll catch you later though."

I shut the door behind them as they continue to laugh a little too hard about Rian's joke. Damn, maybe we do need a night out.

I haven't been sitting down too long before Alex peeks his head into the lounge "Morning" he smiles at me.

"Afternoon" I say back, glancing at the clock that's proudly announcing it's well past noon. "What's your plans for before the show? Pretty much everyone's out grabbing food at the moment, I thought we could wait until they get back for a verdict on the best place in town?"

Alex nods, "Yeah sounds good to me, I'm just gonna grab a quick shower and then I'm good to go" he turns towards the back of the bus but pokes his head around again "Oh! Almost forgot, I borrowed your headphone charger again last night, I still have no clue where mine went- it's in my bunk if you need it desperately" he dramatizes the last word, giggling as he heads off towards the shower.

"You could ask!" I shout back, but the waters already running- he can't hear me, so I mutter it again to myself as I head back towards his bunk to grab my charger. It's sat up on the shelf in his bunk, I pick it up and go to put it away but then I see his old sunglasses case from high school- I'm not a stalker, I haven't memorised all of Alex's glasses cases, this one is just obnoxious. It's bright pink and has 'Alex' bejewelled in tacky rhinestones, the glasses that went with it were even worse- so aggressively 2000s, and I'm pretty certain they were women's.

I have a little giggle at the memory, and open it up to see if he still has the glasses too, tipping it over onto the bed, sure enough those awful glasses come tumbling out, did they somehow have more diamantes than last time I saw them? I stop laughing when I realise something else fell out of the case, 3 shiny blades now lying on the duvet.

I'm so caught up in my own mind trying to process why Alex has blades in his sunglasses case I don't notice the shower stopping, it's not until the bathroom door opens do I tear my gaze away from them, to direct it at Alex. He's all smiles until he looks down at the bed, and then I see a million emotions cross his face all at once. "Alex..." I start, making a move to stand up.

"What the fuck are you doing going through my stuff?" he shouts, voice quivering slightly, I don't know if it's from rage or what but it's not nice to hear.

"Alex I'm sorry I didn't mean to go through your stuff I just noticed the glasses case and wanted to see if you still had them." I try to explain, taking a step back as he moves towards the bunk "Honestly I didn't mean anything by it" I try to catch his gaze so he can see the concern in my eyes but he's too focussed on stuffing the blades back in the case.

He puts the case back on his shelf and stands upright, looking at me- in the silence I try to figure out what he's thinking, and how to ask him why he has those, a small part of me hoping there's a logical explanation for it and's he's not hurting himself. "Why Alex?" Is all I manage to get out.

Immediately he's on the offensive, it's rare I see Alex genuinely angry but it's not a nice sight "Why the fuck do you think Jack?" he spits "You know why, so don't ask stupid questions. And you can cut it with this whole pity routine, you can just say it's pathetic you don't have to stand there and pretend it's not" his voice cracks "It's fucking pathetic and childish and we both know that so just don't." He's run out of steam, no longer shouting- his shoulders are hunched over and he looks defeated.

"Alex, I wasn't going to say that, why didn't you tell me?" I take a step towards him, ready to pull him into a hug but Alex looks like he's in his own little world- he pushes past me towards the front of the bus, stopping to put on his shoes.

He sighs, standing upright and looking me in the eyes "Just," he lets out another breath, running his hand through his hair "Don't tell the others?" he asks.

"I won't Alex, but please talk to me about this," I step towards him but he's already halfway out the door.

"I'll see you at soundcheck!" He shouts as he walks away from the bus.

I sit down on the sofa with my head in my hands, I know Alex likes to deal with things on his own but this doesn't seem like something he should be dealing with singlehandedly- and all those things he was calling himself, pathetic, childish? I don't understand where those come from, whenever he talks to fans about their self harm he's always so supportive- why didn't he react the same way about himself?

I'm so confused, but I just want to help him- I know I won't be able to talk to him until after the show, I have no clue where he's gone to now and talking about it after sound check could potentially throw him off for the show, which isn't fair to him or the fans. I do know one way to help him for certain though- and that's getting rid of the blades, I go back to his bunk and retrieve them from the glasses case, throwing them in the bin and taking it out to the dumpster around the back of the venue where we're parked.

I reach the bus at the same time Zack and a couple others are returning from lunch "Hey guys, how was it?" I ask, barely listening to the answer as I think over what I'm going to say to Alex. He asked me not to tell the others, and I won't- it's his business at the end of the day and it's not my decision who gets to know. I just hope he's okay.

Alex's POV

I walked off the tour bus and just kept walking, I don't know where I'm going I just need to be far away from Jack. Fuck I'm such an idiot. Why did I react like that? Why didn't I just say I don't know what they are? Or that I don't know how they got there? Literally anything would've been better than what I did.

Looking down at my feet when I walk I very narrowly avoid bumping head on with someone, I lift my gaze to apologise and see I'm at a bar, the man having already walked off. I figure a drink might calm me down and head inside- it's quiet, I'm sure at night it's lively- dart boards line the walls and there's pool tables set off to one side, but it's too early for it to be full. I ask the bartender for a beer, probably best not to get too wasted before the show, and start peeling off the label as I let my mind continue it's incessant thinking.

I keep replaying what Jack said in my head, "Why Alex?" at first it sounds concerned, genuinely distressed, maybe I should talk to him about it? Then it gets chewed around in my mind.

"Why Alex?" Why would you do this to yourself?

"Why Alex?" Why would you beg for attention like this?

"Why Alex?" Why are you so childish?

"Why Alex?" Why are you being so fucking pathetic, stop dragging us into your bullshit.

What's spat back out of my mind is nasty and cruel, but Jack isn't nasty or cruel- maybe my doing this makes him like that, maybe I'm the problem? I take a long swig of my beer, then another, and a few swigs later it's all gone. So much for taking it slow. I order another, telling myself this is the last one.

I try to block out my thoughts now, they're coming hard and fast and they're nothing but painful; What if Jack tells the others? What if the others react the same way? He definitely already has, everyone's so open with each other- they're probably all sat on the bus right now talking about it, about how I threw a tantrum like a child. I hold my head in my hands and try to shake the thoughts away but they don't stop.

"You alright?" the bartender asks, probably more curious than concerned- I nod as I ask for a shot of tequila, he raises his eyebrow but pours one anyway, sliding it over the bar to me.

"Thanks," I give him an awkward smile and pay my tab, before heading back to the venue for sound check.

[animentality]

I know villain redemptions are considered a bit tacky given the current state of things, but what would you say would allow a character to be a bad guy but not so bad that they can’t become that edgelord uncle character

Things NOT to do:

- have that character kill too many people. seriously. murdering a whole race/group of people is fairly heinous, even if those people are from a “bad” culture/religion. 

- if that character has to kill/ was raised to kill, then have their victims be more or less deserved. rapists, murderers, imperialists, racists, whatever. do NOT make their victims innocent people. at the VERY least, their victims should be morally gray or leaning more to the evil side. 

- have that character do something like torture an innocent person or do something truly heinous to an established “good” character, or even just a fan favorite. there’s like this thin line that you should always place between this character and true evil. obviously you get to decide where that line is, but know that others have their own lines. 

- do NOT try to erase their actions. they should have to be pay for those actions, physically, mentally, emotionally, whatever. make sure to present that person as being genuinely repentant and not just “ah....im GOOD now” and then erase all trauma or guilt associated with the character’s former evil life. 

Things TO do with redemption arcs: 

- plainly establish what is “wrong” with the people the villain is tormenting. give them a reasoning, a mentality behind why they feel the need to punish certain people. it doesn’t have to be totally redeemable, but it does have to at least have some kind of purpose that we can more or less relate to in some way. 

- then deconstruct that totally by establishing that the villain’s backstory/upbringing is wrong, and plainly say that. ALSO make sure that they are humiliated and taught their lesson. make sure that their original intent is kind of justifiable, but ultimately disregarded and neutralized. 

- and more than just having them be humiliated and taught a lesson, it’s important to show them that their world view being changed isn’t enough. they have to EARN their redemption. they have to actively work to right their own wrongs, and not just by “dying” heroically to help another character. 

dying to save the day is fucking cheap.

you wanna know the real reason zuko’s redemption worked so well?

because he didn’t just die so that aang could kill ozai; he actively worked every day to endear himself to the Gaang. 

He helped Sokka break into a prison, he helped Katara come to terms with her mother’s murder, he helped Aang learn firebending. 

He became a better person AND he chose to work every day to help the Avatar to END. THE. WAR.

That’s how to redeem a villain. 

You establish their motives for being a villain.

You establish that they are capable of change. 

You show their change in heart. 

And then you show that they are going to fix not only themselves, but all of their mistakes. 

And on top of that,  you show them going out of way to help all of the people they once wronged.

That’s why villains who kill entire populations, like say, planets, can’t be redeemed!

you can’t generally bring people back to life, you can’t fix mistakes like genocide. 

so honestly that’s why so many villain redemptions suck so much.

bad male writers think bad male characters can just kill everyone and then still be redeemable because they have “uwu sad backstory” when that’s just not how it works.