#angela towers

[hipsternumbertwo]

Nepo Babies Deserve It | Bit City

[3psil-0n]

Innocence lost.

I absolutely *love* survival horror. That's a pretty well known thing about me amongst my friends, but my favourite thing about survival horror is the characters... the female characters especially. Alot of them? They're teenagers. Originally I was going to call this one "Horrors tragic teens" as they're all teenagers, but innocence lost fits more, in my opinion.

More under the cut!!

[devils-reign]

quality would genuinely not get better i’m so sorry, but i’m very hung up on this spencer moment - his little smile 😭 all the little side glances to angela and the camera almost like he’s waiting for her to try the cookie first 😭 i cannot explain the emotions this evokes for me but i’m very much on my knees and desperate for him

[zixuulyt]

After about a few weeks of stalling, it is done! Merry Christmas everyone.

[miwtual]

chanse's "oh my god tampa's final girl?" fucking KILLED me

[abybweisse]

What do you think, who will be the final villains?

Maybe Queen Victoria will be a negative character in like in the anime?

Could London burn down like in the anime?

I've answered asks like this a few times.

Basically, I still expect the big bads to be Queen Victoria and John Brown, much like the queen and Ash Landers/Angela Blanc were in s1. But I doubt it would include London burning down.

I do, however, expect/hope that Tower Bridge is discussed as part of the reason the Phantomhives were attacked. Because I think that Vincent wasn't as helpful as the queen wanted when she asked for money and workers... and after the attack, the estate was relinquished to the crown, and she moved funds and people from the estate into the bridge project. Which points back to what our earl says (ch85) about how long it's taking to build the bridge -- that humans have priorities. I think that Vincent focused on other priorities, while the queen wanted all the needed resources for the bridge right away... since the bridge was historically dedicated to her dead husband, Prince Albert. There are other clues about this, like the timeline itself for the bridge project in the manga (ch85 again, see below), as well as Vincent saying (ch132) that bridges and ditches take a lot of money and help (manpower).

Sebastian points out in ch85 that the project plans were approved around when the earl was born, so 1875. Then he says construction didn't actually start until 3 years ago. This discussion is in 1889, so construction started in 1886. Well, the twins were born in 1875, and Vincent's priorities were his pregnant wife, the expected child, and their estate's prosperity. The attack happens December 14, 1885, and the demon contract is made ~Jan 20, 1886. Then construction "magically" begins around the time that our earl is working to regain the estate under the Phantomhive name. Vincent had previously (ch132 again) warned Francis/Frances that if he didn't have an heir who could run the estate, they might have to relinquish the property to the crown. That's exactly what happens between the attack itself and our earl officially becoming Earl Phantomhive. Our earl officially gets the earl title on March 17, 1886 (ch63). In the letter the queen sends to our earl, she even confirms that the estate and title were in her hands until it could be returned to the Phantomhives (or bequeathed to another family).

Though there is probably more than one reason for the attack on the Phantomhive family, I theorize that a big part of it is essentially a money (and labor) grab by the queen.

[okiankeno]

I'm going to pass out from how attractive angela is in her. last Instagram story holy shit

[basicallyanotherwitchesthing]

Norman Thaddeus Vane - The Exorcism of Angela Gray - Belmont Tower - 1974

[starblazes]

🎲

( setting prompts / accepting !! )

           𝐈𝐍  𝐀𝐋𝐋  𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒,  Stelle  had  not  expected  anyone  uninvited  to  be  there.  She  was  there  to  help  Huohuo  and  Guinaifen,  after  all.  Nearly  a  system  hour  had  passed  since  the  trailblazer  had  arrived  and  she  had  yet  to  see  either  of  them  in  Fyxetroll  Garden.  A  part  of  her  wondered  if  this  was  intentional;  some  kind  of  prank  to  spook  her.  She  could  see  Guinaifen  pulling  a  stunt  like  that  for  content,  and  maybe  Sushang  would  play  along;  but  she  doubted  Huohuo  was  capable  of  something  mean,  even  if  it  was  mostly  harmless.

            Stelle  began  to  tap  her  foot.  Though  she  was  not  usually  prone  to  impatience,  she  found  the  atmosphere  of  the  Garden  somewhat  eerie  and  off  when  compared  to  the  rest  of  the  Xianzhou  Luofu.  The  presence  of  loose  heliobi  notwithstanding,  the  trailblazer  couldn't  help  but  feel  as  though  she  were  being  watched.

            Sure,  by  now,  that  it  must  be  one  of  the  girls  trying  to  scare  her,  Stelle  folded  her  arms  and  called  into  the  darkness:  ❝   You  guys  have  exactly  five  seconds  to  show  your  faces,  or  I'm  leaving  you  here  to  the  ghosts.   ❞

            She  waited.  Five  seconds  passed.  And  then—  ❝   Alright,  fine.  It  was  nice  knowing  you  Guina—SHIT!   ❞  Just  as  Stelle  turned  around,  she  nearly  rammed  straight  into  someone.  It  took  her  actually  looking  up  to  stare  into  his  steely  gaze  for  her  to  realise  who  it  was.  ❝   Blade?  What  are  you  doing  here?   ❞ She  tried  peeking  around  his  frame.  If  he  was  here,  then  did  that  mean  Kafka  was  here  too? 

[hs-killjam]

the moment this becomes available again I'm buying it in an instant fr fr

[insidecroydon]

Mayor Perry could be 'discontinued' under devolution reforms

Our political editor, WALTER CRONXITE, delved deeper into the White Paper on English devolution to discover a proposal which could end directly elected borough mayors in London, including Croydon Bitten off more than he can chew: out of his depth Jason Perry could end up being a one-term mayor Deputy Prime Minister Angela Rayner made a speech yesterday promising devolution across England, with a…

[dragonloanshark]

love how someone being 5’10 on boy meets world completely disrupts the show. all these people are teeny next to a slightly tall person

[inferno-ontherocks]

Smosh vs. Christmas Shayne & Angela's shocking tower pulls

[thelesbianluthor]

Smosh vs Aliens was the best thing ever.

I cannot believe that these two episodes are the only time I will get to see these characters. I got so attached please I need more of them.

My poor girls went through so much.

I liked the vs Zombies one but I wasn't as invested in Spencer and Shayne's characters unfortunately.

The type of dynamic that Court, Chanse, Amanda and Angela created as weird tween girls was incredible.

George is so good at making us feel dread and painting a vivid scene plus the jenga tower is such a great way to keep the tension up.

I am really excited to see more dread series honestly.

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Girl Next Door - VII

A Constantine x FemVampire!Reader (feat John Wick!) fic based on this imagine. all chapters warnings: nsfw, blood, biting, violence, trigger warning this chapter mentions pregnancy/death divider by animatedglittergraphics gif from pinterest-if yours ill gladly credit u

7.  hard to kill

Needless to say, you are too happy to retire early to the closet, having stolen his comforter and made a nest in which to curl up and feel sorry for yourself. You steal a towel too, expecting to cry. Perhaps it is a mercy, that they're only silent tears, for John as much as yourself. 

You lay there in pain, staring at the wall, until the rising sun brings you the merciful relief of sleep. 

When you wake, you find a note on the kitchen table that reads:

Gone to check on some things. Do NOT leave the building! My friend Beeman lives in the basement. Don’t eat him. Back soon. -John 

Would a please really kill him? 

He’s gone to check on Angela, you reason. The human girl he really wants to be with, but with whom he may only have very limited time. You are not sure which part of that hurts you more. 

The idea that he could be dying still doesn’t feel real to you. Aside from the coughing, he seemed so strong. You think about what he said about the bond you share, and how your own strength was probably the reason he was even still alive. 

You feel good, with dhampir blood still in you, but you reason it would be best to keep yourself fed, keep your energy up. You are in a part of town where you think it will be an easy thing to harvest the evil doer you require for your meal. 

You head out for a drink. 

♰♰♰

By the time you return to the bowling alley John still has not returned. Worried, you try to reach out through your connection, curious what he’s up to. You find it shut like a brick wall has been put up between you, and you sigh to yourself. 

Fine. Be that way. 

There’s nothing to do in this apartment. No books. No tv. You are still in your dress that you wore to the club the night before. It’s black, and doesn’t show it, but you can smell the splatters of blood on the fabric from your little misadventure at the club. You decide to take a bath, and maybe with a little spite, you use John’s toothbrush. 

Poking around for something clean to wear, you pick out one of John’s white shirts, which you swim in, and your undies from before. Maybe it will give him a laugh, when he gets home. You covet his mirth as much as his kisses, pathetic thing that you are. 

You sit at the kitchen table, staring at the cracked subway tiles and bored out of your skull. You are considering exploring the building just to kill some time, when you hear some thumping outside the door, and there’s a heavy knock. 

You freeze in your tracks. 

How did you not even hear the footsteps coming up the creaky stairs?

As you try to reason what could be out there with your undead heart pounding in your chest a deep voice calls, “I know you’re in there, vampling.” 

Fuck. 

You look around for something that you could use as a weapon against John Wick–and can’t help but feel like it's a hopeless endeavor. 

You just stand there silently, torn as to what to do.

“Still here, milaya,” he calls.

You're not sure why you feel embarrassed. “What do you want?” 

“I’ve brought your boyfriend a present.”

Double fuck. 

Does he need an invitation to enter, like a vampire does? One more thing John neglected to explain to you. You almost contradict that John Constantine is so not your boyfriend, but then you reason that might be the thing that kept John alive the night before.

Strangely…even if he is a vampire killer, you don’t really think the dhampir means you harm. However, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t scare you. 

Trembling in your bones, you go to open the door. 

John Wick is there, a tower in black, looking unfairly edible–with a vampire curled in a ball at his feet. “What the fuck?”

“Can we come in?”

“No.” 

It’s worth a shot. 

Wick rolls his eyes, and pushes past you, dragging the incapacitated vampire rather unceremoniously behind him. 

You guess that answers that question.  

Wick drops the vampire in a heap on the floor. You see that the unlucky bastard’s hands are bound with heavy metal cuffs behind his back, and a large silver knife protrudes from his chest. He’s seeping blood onto the floor, and you wonder if you should complain, or if it will make one bit of difference in this dump. 

“Where’s Constantine?” 

“He’s not here.” 

By the way Wick turns to look at you with sharpened interest, you wonder if you shouldn’t have admitted that. This is when he seems to really notice what you’re wearing, the corners of his lips curling in a little smile. 

Maybe Constantine’s oversized shirt fits you like a dress, but you realize you are showing quite a bit of leg. Rather pointlessly, you tug down the hemline–entirely too late. 

“What is this?” asks the dhampir, gesturing up and down with his chin at your ridiculous outfit, amused.

“I didn’t have any clothes here…” you defend, backing away as he slowly advances on you. “What are you doing here?” 

“Hunting.” He is still advancing towards you, slowly, and you continue to back away.

Hunting who, you’re afraid to ask.

When you pull one of the mismatched kitchen chairs into his path the vampire hunter looks at you with amusement, his eyes practically sparkling. But maybe he realizes that he’s scaring you, because he pauses in his tracks. “This vampire has some interesting information about don Juan’s plans. I need Constantine.”

“Why?”

“Because demons are not my specialty.”

You wait for him to elaborate, but it seems he is waiting for John to explain further. He looks around the crumbling apartment with a critical eye, clearly not impressed. “He lives like this?”

“It’s a safehouse,” you defend, though you have no idea why. “That worked well, obviously.” You frown up at him, which he seems to enjoy.

“It may have, with the wards on the door,” he answers, nodding towards the runes scratched into the jamb. “If you hadn’t left their protection. I tracked you.”

“You what?” The back of the rickety chair creaks under your grip.

“I’ve had your blood, you’ve had mine,” he says like that should be enough of an explanation. Then he inhales, his eyes sliding closed for the barest moment. “You had a good feed tonight. Ripe with blood. Care to share?” His fangs glint in the low light, and you extend the chair further before you. 

“No, we are not doing that again.”

This forbidding, lethal, terrifying man extends his full lower lip in a pout, and it’s so cute that you are dumbfounded.

“I thought we had fun last time.”

“You had all the fun.”

“I can return the favor,” he assures you with a lift of those unruly dark brows, and goddam if suddenly you are holding the chair for support, because your knees have gone weak beneath you. 

Do not look at his mouth.

You can’t help it, and it is lush, and well-formed, and curled into a shit-eating smirk.

A sharp crack fills the apartment, and only a moment later do you realize you broke the chair.

“Someone’s pent up. Poor darling.”

He advances on you again, and you flee to the other side of the table. That sweet scent of flowers and spices has started filling the room between you, and a fine tremor starts in your core, making its way straight to your loins. “Stop that.”

“I will if you will,” he invites, bracing himself upon the table as though he might leap over it. “It isn’t just me.”

“What…is it?” you ask through gritted teeth, clenching your fists against the urge to go to him, to wrap yourself around him and climb him like an oak.

“A long time ago…my wife used to pick a little white flower in the meadow near our izba. She loved their scent. That is what you smell like to me, milaya. Light and fresh as spring. Who are you?”

But all you can do is shake your head, suddenly so weak that you have to sit. “How long ago?”

“Three hundred years? Give or take.” He makes a this or that gesture, and you are distracted by the sheer size of his hands, those elegant long fingers waving. 

The scope of such a timespan lived by one man is still dizzying to you.

“What happened to her?”

“I killed her.”

Your eyes fly wide with shock, perhaps because he clearly worshiped the ground this woman walked on. “What? Why?”

“The usual way. Something went wrong with the birth of our daughter. She was born dead, and took her mother with her.” He looks at the wall while he tells you this, almost as though he is recounting a story that happened to someone else. “I should have known that nothing living could be created by something half dead like me. I tried to follow them…but I am hard to kill.”

“Jesus. I’m so sorry.” 

He nods, and turns his stare at you, that piercing dark gaze holding all the weight of the world.

“You are lucky you needn’t worry of such things any more.”

“Excuse you? You don’t know anything about me. I wouldn’t call being taken and turned into this lucky.”

“Then you wanted children with John Constantine?”

He seems to have no problem with asking you such a personal question, and the leap of this logic gives you whiplash. “No, that would be…fucking insane.”

He smirks at you, as though he’s proved a point. You, on the other hand, aren't even sure what you're arguing about anymore. 

Before you can tell him off though, he changes tack again, looking around the dilapidated space with a raised eyebrow. “So this is how he keeps you? You like this?”

“I told you…we don’t live here.” 

He takes a deep sniff of the air, continuing to walk around. “It smells like he lives here.” 

You frown at this, open your mouth to argue, then shut it again. You think about all the clothes John has stored here. Has he been living here for the past month, to avoid running in to you? No wonder he was able to ghost you so perfectly. 

You’re not sure why it surprises you at this point, but it still feels like being stabbed. You press a hand over your chest absently, willing it to stop hurting all the time. Jesus fucking christ, it would be nice to have some relief from this grief you’ve ultimately caused yourself. 

Wick watches you with eagle-sharp eyes as you process this, a small frown pulling between his brows. “I don’t think I like the way this stupid boy treats you, zolotse. If you were mine, I would keep you in comfort, and you would know how much you are adored every day.”

You have to keep reminding yourself that you do not know this man. That words like this from a total stranger are borderline crazy, and you should not be so charmed by them as you are. 

“Please…stop,” you beg him, hiding your face in your hands. Where the fuck is Constantine? He really needs to come back now. You reach out to him again, trying to convey some sense of urgency, but find the invisible thread between you is still blocked on his end. Turd.

 “We do not know each other.” 

“That’s not what it feels like,” he says, and even though you’re not looking at him, you hear the shrug in his voice. You feel him near closer, and you tell yourself that you stay put because it’s ridiculous to run around the kitchen table like he couldn’t catch you any time he really wanted to, and not because…you like the feeling of his solid warmth at your side. For a man who claims he’s half dead…he feels very alive, and your every nerve ending stands at attention with John Wick at your elbow.  

“Because there is something about you, something out the corner of the eye, and the way you hold your head, and the way you talk back to me so bravely when you know I could break you in two…I feel like I know you, vampling.”

“Well…you have lived a very long time.” You try to explain it away, but you can tell just by his eyes that he’s not having it. 

“The longer you live, the more you know…the more you realize you don’t know. But things do seem to move in circles.” He dares to touch you, just your hair, very lightly fingering the strands still half-damp from your bath. “You should come back to New York with me.”

You really do need your head checked, because for the barest second–you are sorely tempted. You are more angry with yourself than him when you snap, “Wow, you really don’t waste any time, do you?”

“I feel that I have waited lifetimes for you, milaya.” 

He leans over your seated form, engulfing you with the breath of his chest, his muscle-corded arm braced upon the table. With one of those agonizingly large hands he turns your face up to look at him, not allowing you to hide any longer. Those piercing dark eyes gaze right into your soul, and that intoxicating infusion of spiced sweetness engulfs you again. A warm, fuzzy certainty settles over you: what is the point in fighting him? This man, in whose arms you belong?

 This is the moment John Constantine choses to burst through the door, and chaos erupts above the BOWL BOWL BOWL. 

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

*izba - cabin made of pine logs, often with ornate little details on the outside around the windows. 

[shebecamethesun]

From My Heart to Yours

(For Amangela Holiday Week Day 1 - Secret Santa. Thanks @zillaphoneswag for the prompt 💗)

"Okay, bitches. Gather 'round so we can exchange gifts before somebody vomits!" Ian announces, his voice laced with amusement and alcohol.

The cast members let out a chorus of "Woooh!" and "Fuck yeah!"

Amanda, who has been in Angela's space all night long, pulls the shorter girl towards the center of Ian's living room. Angela let out a tiny yelp as Amanda made her sit down on the sofa a lot less gentler than she usually does. Her eyebrows were almost touching, and she had an unreadable expression on her face. She tried to stand back up, but Amanda was towering over her. "You will stay seated on this sofa, Angela. Don't move."

"Amanda!"

"Don't. Move," Amanda repeats in a harsh whisper, the tone of her voice unamused.

"Sober Amanda is not fun," Angela murmurs, which earned her a piercing gaze from the tall woman. She didn't know what was going on with Amanda, but safe to say that her being in a no-nonsense mood at the cast members only party was preventing her friend from enjoying the night. "Let's get some drinks in you, honey."

Amanda murmurs something that she didn't really understand.

"What?"

Amanda sighs before sitting beside Angela. "Nothing, Angela. Just stay still, okay? I don't want you going anywhere."

"I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right here beside you," she replies almost immediately. Whoops, that sounded a little more intense than she meant it to. The shots of vodka she took earlier were taking their effect, making her lose her inhibitions.

"As you should be," she hears Amanda say.

"Huh?" Angela wasn't sure if she was tipsy or what Amanda said didn't make sense. "What do you mean, Manda?"

"Beside me," Amanda says in a low voice, making sure that this moment remained unnoticed by everyone else. "Right beside me. Not making the same mistake of leaving you alone even for a second."

Oh.

Angela was about to inquire if she was talking about what she thinks she's talking about when she hears one of their friends clear their throat in front of them.

"Hey, Ange."

Suddenly, she feels an arm being wrapped around her shoulder.

Real subtle, Amanda, Angela wants to say. But if she was right about what got Amanda's panties in a twist, then she shouldn't really tease her.

"Hi, Damien," she greets back, flashing him a friendly smile. She really shouldn't risk it. Not when she can feel how tensed up Amanda was beside her.

"I'd like to apologize again for the  dare or drink thing. I know you said it was just a game, but I wanted to make sure I didn't cross any boundaries with you."

Was the arm around her shoulder squeezing her tighter, or was Angela just drunk?

But she couldn't be drunk. Not yet. She wasn't even fully tipsy yet.

So Angela knew that she was right. The person beside her was pissed. Not at her, but clearly at the person in front of them.

"Damien, it's okay," Angela says reassuringly.

A very very soft scoff left Amanda's mouth when she said that, but Angela pretended not to notice. Instead, she kept her eyes on Damien, prompting him to continue with his apology.

"I really didn't want to drink and the card said to kiss the most attractive person in the room," he begins. Angela nodded, already knowing where this was going. "And well, you know, you were the only single person in the room. I figured it was a safe choice. Don't get me wrong, you're really attractive but-"

As soon as the word attractive leaves Damien's mouth, Amanda stands up. Both Angela and Damien turned to look at her, confused, but Amanda ignored their gazes and called out for Ian instead.

"Hey, Ian. Are we going to exchange gifts or what?"

Angela holds back the laugh that was forming in her throat. She really shouldn't make fun of Amanda right now. So instead, she turns to Damien once more.

"Damien, I promise I'm okay. We're okay. It was a drinking game, and it meant nothing, okay?" That last part wasn't really directed at Damien. Of course he knew that it meant nothing.

She was saying it to Amanda. Amanda, who was jealous that Damien kissed Angela in a game of dare or drink.

 

It would be funny if Angela's heart wasn't beating wildly at the thought of Amanda being jealous. It would have even been funnier if Damien didn't look so confused at how disruptive Amanda was being. It would have been really really funny to explain to him why.

Because it didn't make sense.

It didn't make sense that Amanda had been territorial all night, not leaving her side even if she had been asked multiple times to sing karaoke.

It didn't make sense that the jealousy that was radiating off of Amanda's body was so intense that she's pretty sure Courtney and Shayne (who have been subtly observing them since Damien came up to her) were walking over to pull their friend away and save him.

It didn't make sense that Amanda was pissed that Angela and Damien shared a kiss.

It really didn't make sense to Angela because for the past six months, she never wanted to kiss anyone else but Amanda.

But Amanda never did.

Not seriously anyway.

The few times she tried to were for bits, and there was no setting up the punchline to how Angela feels for her best friend.

This wasn't a joke for Angela. She was in love with Amanda. She wanted to be with her. She wanted to hold her in her arms as they fall asleep. She wanted to kiss her.

And now Amanda was jealous that someone else kissed her.

It would have been so funny if Angela didn't feel the hope rising from her chest.

Maybe, just maybe, Amanda was in love with her, too.

This wasn't the proper place to sort out their feelings and talk about them though, so Angela decided to file that away for later. She ground herself, trying her best to tamp down the hopefulness that was now blooming inside her.

And what better way of grounding herself than to grab Amanda's hand and hold on to it tightly?

"We're good here, Damien, yeah?" Angela asks, hoping that Damien would take the hint and leave.

A smile appears on his face and he nods. "Yeah, we are. Thanks, Angela," he then faces Amanda, whose expression remains unreadable. "Bye, Manda!"

Someday, Angela would explain to Damien why Amanda was acting weird that night, but for tonight, all she could do was pull Amanda back down on the sofa and lean on her shoulder.

"If I'm staying on this sofa, then you are, too" she says lightly, hoping the tone of her voice lessens Amanda's edge. "Stay beside me, Amanda. You're not going anywhere."

When she thinks about this moment weeks from now, Angela would realize that Amanda didn't say anything in return.

Instead, Amanda smiles. The first genuine smile she had since her mood turned. Her arm finds its way back around Angela's shoulder, and as the two relax against each other, the tension seemingly melting away, Amanda surges forward and kisses the top of Angela's head.

---

 

After much pleading and teasingly promising that she would not be caught up in a game of dare or drink, Amanda finally lets Angela get her a drink. 

 

She was still pissed at Damien even though she was very much aware that she was being childish, but she couldn't help it. Can you blame her? She has been trying to kiss Angela for a while now, and she had always been rejected by the shorter girl. But one drinking game and suddenly, someone on the Smosh cast had kissed the lips she had been imagining kissing for so long.

 

It didn't help that it was Damien who kissed Angela. If it was literally anybodv else, she might have just laughed it off, maybe she would have even teased Angela, but no. Damien was single. Damien was funny. Damien was also being actively shipped with Angela online. And Amanda didn't like that. She might have been keeping track of who the fans were shipping with Angela more often, but she would never admit to that. (It was her, by the way. It was insane how many people have noticed how Amanda looks at Angela.)

 

So when she came back to the living room after getting Angela water and saw that Damien was an inch away from her, Amanda swears things moved in slow motion, just like in the movies. Unfortunately, unlike in the movies, she was powerless to stop the kiss in time. So she stood there, water in hand, and watched as Damien and Angela's lips touched. 

 

It didn't even last two seconds, but it was enough to make Amanda's heart hurt.

 

She wanted to be the one kissing those lips. She wanted to be the only person Angela was kissing. She wanted to be Angela's... She wanted to be Angela's, period. 

 

And hopefully, when she gets enough drinks in her system, she would be able to tell Angela that.

 

But for now, she made herself content watching Angela from the sofa. She was zoned out for a second, but when she looked at Angela again, she seemed to be having a panicked conversation with Chanse. She wanted to get up and ask what was wrong, but she feels like she's on her way to becoming unbearable tonight. So she stays put and waits until Angela finds her way back to her.

 

She'll wait.

 

---

 

"What the fuck do you mean it's a White Elephant party?!" Angela exclaimed, trying to keep her voice in a hushed whisper. 

 

"Angela, did you not read the memo?" Chanse asked with his eyebrows furrowed, his eyes seemingly boring a hole through her soul. "It's a White Elephant party. Anyone can steal anyone else's gift!"

 

"That's bullshit!" A few people looked at Angela's way, but she was too busy stressing over this new information to care. "If anyone can steal my gift, then this secret santa is bullshit!"

 

Angela was really frustrated about this. She worked her ass off to have the perfect gift and was happy about it and excited to give it and then she learns that her gift might not even end up with the name she worked so hard to get? Bull. Shit.

 

"This is unfair! I have the perfect gift for Amand-" Angela suddenly stops, realizing she said her secret santa out loud.

 

"Angela..." 

 

She gulped. She was in trouble.

 

Chanse immediately clocked her. She knew there was no getting out of this. Suddenly, the ends of her top looked really good.

 

"You told me you picked Tommy."

 

"I did."

 

"Angela..." Chanse repeats. She hates it when he doesn't just let up. She ends up telling him the truth.

 

"Fine," she relents. "I did pick Tommy originally."

 

"And then?" he asks expectantly. Chanse waits. He wasn't an idiot, he knew exactly what happened. He just wanted to hear the confession from Angela.

 

Angela gives him a pointed look before telling him what happened. "Okay, so last week I had to shoot a Games vid, remember?" He nods, and she continues. "I got to set a bit early because Amanda was still in a meeting for Smosh Mouth. So I hung out with Spencer to kill time. Somehow we ended up talking about Christmas shopping..."

 

"You swapped with Spencer?!" Chanse asks, looking like a scandalized Southern woman. "Do you want people to know just how obsessed you are with our friend?"

 

"Okay, first, shut up. I am not obsessed with her," she retorts, even if in actuality, she thinks she is. At least a little bit. Amanda is a literal work of art. Who wouldn't want to stare at her for hours? "And Spencer brought it up I swear. He said he had no idea what gift to give his secret santa and I asked who it is, saying maybe I could help. He said I absolutely could and admitted that he picked Amanda. I said she was really easy to buy gifts for because she's very appreciative and thankful, but he said he was drawing a blank and things would be much easier if he picked Tommy instead. And I so casually let it slip that I got Tommy's name..."

 

"You took advantage!"

 

"Hey, it was a fair trade! He got who he wanted to pick, and I got Amanda. It was a win-win," she says, defending her action. "Besides, I got Amanda the perfect gift." Chanse rolls his eyes at that. "So please help me make sure she actually gets it."

 

She touched Chanse's arm and brought out her secret weapon, being teary-eyed. "Please, Chanse. I need this to go well."

 

"Damn, you're using your manipulative skills. You really must want her to get this gift."

 

"I really do."

 

Realization suddenly dawns on Chanse, and for the second time that night, he looked like a scandalized Southern woman. "You're going to tell her, aren't you?" She didn't answer, but she held his gaze.

 

A silent understanding passed between Chanse and Angela, and she knew that he was in.

 

"You better have a girlfriend by this time tomorrow or I swear to god I will make Damien kiss you one more time so that Amanda acts stupid again."

 

Angela feels the tension leave her body as she laughs at Chanse's statement. Hopefully, things go according to her plan. She just needs a little bit of luck.

 

---

 

Of course things didn't go according to her plan.

 

When Ian called Amanda to get her gift from the table, Angela made sure to start a conversation with Arasha so that she doesn't give away any indication that she was the one who picked Amanda. It was a good thing that everyone would open the gifts at the same thing. She was able to hold off her nerves for a while. 

 

When Amanda returned to her seat beside Angela, they didn't speak. Angela just gives the taller woman a thumbs up and goes back to talking with Arasha. 

 

Amanda didn't seem to mind, though. She even placed her hand on the small of her back. Angela shivered when she felt the warmth of her hand. She nodded at whatever Arasha was saying, too distracted now to understand her story.

 

"You okay, honey?" Amanda whispers, concerned. 

 

She turns to her, hoping that she wasn't blushing. Hell, she probably was. Hopefully she could lie out of her ass and say that it was the alcohol. "Yeah, just a bit cold."

 

Their eyes meet, and a silent conversation happened. Suddenly, Amanda was so much closer, and both of her arms wrapped around Angela's waist.

 

Angela swears she almost fainted. Thankfully, Arasha was done with her story, so Angela was able to give her final comments and pretend that Amanda being wrapped around her was normal. 

 

No one would faint from too much skin contact, right? That would be embarassing. Unfortunately, embarassing things happened to Angela more often than not. All she hoped for at the moment was Amanda not being able to hear how fast her heart was beating.

 

Thankfully, everyone finally got their gifts, and the White Elephant gift exchange started.

 

Almost instantly, chaos ensued. Angela tried her best to keep still, but when Ian said that no one could refuse the gift swaps and cannot complain, she very loudly says "Oh that's so unfair!"

 

"Well deal with it, Angela," Ian answers. "Life's not fair." Angela flips him off, and everyone laughs. He then tells everyone to open the gifts, which meant Amanda had to move. 

 

As soon as her arms left Angela's body, she felt her breath returning to normal. Thank fucking god. 

 

 

She tried to focus on the task at hand, which was opening her gift. She tried her best not to look at Amanda, who was very carefully unwrapping the best present Angela has ever given anyone.

 

 

"Oh my god!" Amanda exclaims, visibly stunned. Angela let herself look, and her heart leaps at the image of Amanda smiling so widely, her dimple protruding out of her cheek. "This is amazing," she hears her say. Angela smiles almost as widely Amanda did. "I fucking love elephants," she exclaims as she proudly shows off the elephant painting she was holding.

 

Suddenly, Amanda looks straight at Angela and says, "Whoever gave this to me..."  she trails a little bit, still admiring her gift. "I love it... I love you."

 

Angela could have sworn that time stopped right then. Did she somehow know that Angela was her secret santa? 

 

Did Amanda know that Angela painted this elephant for her?

 

Before even thinking about it, Angela prepared to open her mouth, wanting to ask Amanda if she knew.

 

However, as if the world knew what she was going to do, she was interrupted.

 

"Alright, everyone! Time for swaps. Remember, no refusing and no complain- Oh fuck you, Shayne!" Ian says into the mic. He was the first victim of the swap as his original gift, a replica of a prop from some movie, was switched with several video game CDs.

 

"You did this to yourself!" Shayne shouts, backing away. "Learn your lesson the hard way, stupid." 

 

Angela wanted to laugh, but she was so nervous. She only hoped that since her gift to Amanda wasn't something everyone wanted meant it was safe.

 

Amanda, on the other hand, was already formulating a plan in her mind. No one was going to take this painting away from her. She'd rather drink a tuna milkshake before she hands it over.

 

Angela and Amanda remained seated, watching silently as the chaos continued. They watched as Spencer ran around, trying to make sure no one swaps with him. Court and Olivia were off to one side, the former trying to convince the latter to give up her gift in exchange for expensive alcohol.

 

Somehow, they remained untouched. Angela with her Wicked themed Crocs, which she was sure no one wanted anyway, and Amanda with her elephant painting.

 

Ian shouted out a warning, "Last twenty seconds for the swap!"

 

Angela could feel her anxiety leaving her body. They were safe. No one wanted to steal Amanda's gift. She would be able to confess to Amanda that she painted it and also tell her how she feels.

 

She almost breathed a sigh of relief.

 

Until she saw Anthony walking over, his gaze fixed on the painting. 

 

Alarm sirens started blaring off inside Angela's head. How the fuck was she supposed to stop Anthony?

 

Maybe she should tell Amanda it was her painting. Or maybe she could grab the painting and run. That wouldn't be so stupid, would it?

 

 

Her mind kept coming up with insane ideas until she heard a heaving sound beside her.

 

 

She looked at the person on her left and was confused at the sight. Amanda covered her mouth with a hand. She made a heaving sound again.

 

Something was off, Angela thought. Amanda hasn't had enough alcohol to be puking. She did not even finish her second glass. Unless she had a stomach bug, there was no possible reason for Amanda to be sick and puking this early into a drinking night.

 

The realization suddenly hit Angela like a truck. She understood what Amanda was doing.

 

Taking the cue from Amanda, Angela played the role of the concerned best friend. "Oh my god, Amanda! Are you okay?" Angela could have sworn that Amanda's eyes were shining when she joined in on the bit. "Are you going to throw up?" she asks loudly, wanting to get everyone's attention.

 

That seemed to do the trick. Suddenly, almost everyone was telling Angela to bring Amanda to the bathroom.

 

"Dude, I don't want to see Amanda vomit. Gross!" Anthony says before backing away. His intention to steal away the gift forgotten. Angela almost smiled.

 

Amanda made a heaving sound again, and Angela got to work. "There is no way she is going to stay here," she announces. "I'm taking her home."

 

A few looks were exchanged, but Angela pretended not to notice. Thankfully, no one voiced out their disagreement.

 

She grabbed the painting from Amanda's hands and put it back into the paper bag, took Amanda's purse, and put a hand on her back, as if to guide her.

 

Amanda, being the amazing actress that she was, let herself be guided. She removed her hand from her mouth for a second as she mouthed "sorry" to Ian, who watched her and Angela as they walked towards the door. 

 

Courtney, god bless their heart, shouted, "Get some rest, Movie Mandy! See you on Monday!" Amanda had to stop herself from smiling. Instead, she gave them a little wave and hoped that everyone believed that she really was about to throw up.

 

Amanda and Angela held their breaths until they were at a safe distance away from Ian's house. They did way too much to be caught now. As if having an understanding, nobody spoke until they reached the door of Amanda's car.

 

The moment Amanda and Angela looked at each other, they both grinned like idiots. And then suddenly, laughs filled the air of that cold December night.

 

"That. Was. Insane." The words barely come out of Amanda's mouth. She was laughing so uncontrollably, leaning on her car so she doesn't eat shit. "Everyone believed it!"

 

"Did you see Anthony's face?" Angela asks, almost doubling over in laughter. "I don't wanna see Amanda vomit! Aaaah!" She makes a horrible Anthony impression, but it makes Amanda laugh even more.

 

"You do know you're never going to live this down, right?" she asks the taller girl as she wipes the tears that she got from laughing so hard. "Everyone's going to call you vomit girl."

 

Amanda shrugs. "Eh. I don't care."

 

"Dude, vomit. girl. That's horrible. I can't believe you did that!"

 

Amanda starts laughing again. "I panicked, okay? I saw Anthony coming for your painting, and I did the best I could to stop him!"

 

A warm smile spreads across Angela's face when she hears this. So she did know. "How'd you know?"

 

 

"Hmmm?" Amanda asks, only now coming down from the laughing fits.

 

 

"You knew I painted this," Angela points at the painting that was now safely in its paper bag. "How?"

 

 

Amanda gives her a pointed look. "Honey."

 

 

"What?" It was a fair question. Angela didn't write her name or anything.

 

 

"Honey, you're the only person I know who would put so much work into a gift for me," she answers, as if declaring the obvious. "Plus, you and I talked in depth about my obsession with elephants after that What Would Amanda Do shoot. It was like the only thing you didn't know about me, and you were pissed."

 

Angela nods, fondly remembering how they stayed at the Smosh office way later than they usually do because the elephant fact fascinated her and she wanted to know everything about this girl in front of her.

 

Suddenly, the moon casts a glow on Amanda that made it hard for Angela to breathe. She's beautiful, Angela thinks, filled with the sudden urge to kiss her. 

 

"Angela?" Amanda's voice breaks her out of her daze.

 

Angela started fiddling with her fingers, anxiety starting to bloom inside her. Was she staring so intently that it made Amanda uncomfortable? "Y-yes?"

 

There was something in Amanda's look that Angela couldn't place, and it was making her heart go wild. She was also taking way too long to respond, and it was making Angela think crazy thoughts, like pulling Amanda into a kiss and asking her to come home with her.

 

"There's something I want to give you, too," Amanda says softly, still staring into her eyes. "Is that okay?"

 

"You got me a gift, too?" Amanda nods. "Oh my god, really?" 

 

 

Angela held out her hand like a child, gesturing for Amanda to give it. 

 

Seconds felt like hours as Angela waited for Amanda to hand over her gift. 

 

What the hell is going on? Angela thinks. Amanda's just staring at me. She was about to speak again when Amanda lets out a breath that she seems to be holding on to for so long.

 

Suddenly, Angela felt herself being pulled by the waist.

 

The moment their lips touched, Angela melted. It was everything she dreamed this moment would be. Amanda's arm was around her waist, keeping her close and assuring her she was safe. God, she loved Amanda so much.

 

Angela sighed into her lips, and Amanda swears she could have passed out right there. Finally, she thinks.

 

The two remained enveloped in each other's arms as their lips explored each other, pulling Amanda and Angela even lower down this rabbit hole of them.

 

After what seemed like an eternity, Amanda pulls away. She gave the shorter girl a solid peck before using her finger to wipe away the lipstick smudge above her lips.

 

Angela's face was burning, and Amanda grins. She could feel a blush across her cheek as well, but she was determined to take control of the situation. Angela was most likely to start gay panicking any moment now, and Amanda knew it was up to her to keep them grounded.

 

"I'm in love with you, Angela," she says earnestly, deciding that being straightforward was the best thing to do. "I have been for a while now, actually." Angela's jaw drops, and Amanda continued. No going back now. "You don't have to say anything. You don't have to feel the same way. I just had to shoot my shot, you know? I could blame my impulsive act on the alcohol or on jealousy, but I know it's neither. Just now, when we were laughing at the stupid stunt I pulled, I was hit with the overwhelming feeling of happiness. It's us versus everyone else, you know? It has always been that way, I think, and I hope it remains that way forever. I'd love nothing more than to pull stupid stunts with you and then laugh at everyone else believing my shit and then..." Amanda suddenly stops, second thinking the next part, but she decides to go for it. "And then ending the night with a kiss or two."

 

This confession made her skin tingle, and Amanda knew that Angela could only react in two ways. She waited patiently for Angela's response, holding her gaze as she continues to stare at Amanda.

 

Finally, Angela talks. "You're in love with me?" 

 

The wind was knocked out of Amanda's lungs. This was either going to be the worst or the best night of her life.

 

"Yes," she answers honestly. 

 

A beat passed before Angela started talking again "You're in love with me, and the best gift you thought to give me was a kiss?!" she asks in disbelief, which made Amanda's jaw drop. "I painted you a fricking elephant!" And then she starts giggling, melting away Amanda's anxiety. "Dude, you said you sucked at giving gifts, I did not know it was this bad!"

 

"Hey!" Amanda exclaims. "I am a good kisser!" But she was laughing now, too, extremely aware that Angela was just teasing. 

 

 

"The kiss was absolutely good! Best kiss of my life, honestly. But it's not a gift!"

 

 

Amanda loves when they banter like this. It was one of the reasons why she fell for Angela. Whatever she does, Angela does, too. They always give the same energy, and it was amazing. Grinning, Amanda tells her, "Well give my gift back then. I'll give you something better."

 

 

Angela stops laughing suddenly, and Amanda feels herself being pulled for the second time that night.

 

"Amanda," Angela calls out. "If we're going to date..." Angela was wearing high heels, which almost made her only a few inches shorter than her. Amanda feels her breath on her skin. She was standing too close. Her brain felt like it was short circuiting, kissing Angela the only coherent thought running around her mind. Angela's thumb trailed softly from her cheek, stopping at her lower lip before she continues. "... then kisses cannot be counted as gifts. Because I want to be kissing you every second of every day."

 

Angela was the one to close the distance between them this time, claiming Amanda's lips as if it was her birthright. It might as well be with how willing Amanda was to give everything she has so they could stay in this moment forever.

 

Kissing Angela felt like coming home, and Amanda, after years of searching for the place where she belongs, finally found where she was meant to be all along. 

 

Moments later, when they both realized someone could come out of Ian's house, they decided to go inside the car and actually leave. 

 

Silence filled the car as both girls had reddened cheeks and puffy lips. They were both in bliss and happy, and as Amanda's free hand reached for Angela's, both knew that this would be the start of the rest of their lives forever.

 

"Does giving you my heart count as a gift?"

 

Angela laughs, and it fills Amanda's body with warmth. 

 

"It does, but you should know I'm never giving it back," she answers cheekily. She even sticks her tongue out for good measure. "It's mine now, Manda."

 

Amanda pulls Angela's hand close to her lips and kisses it. Angela almost cries at how intimate it is.

 

"Honey, my heart's been yours for a long time."

 

At that moment, Angela decides that even though it was only December 7, it was already the best Christmas ever.

 

---

 

Back at Ian's house, three people were staring intently at their phones, immersed and focused but with playful smiles on their faces.

 

Tommy:

And the Oscar for the worst fake drunk performance goes to... Amanda Lehan-Canto!

 

Chanse:

I seriously cannot believe they pulled that shit! Like nobody actually believed Amanda was going to puke, right?

And Angela had the audacity to jump in and help her, that sneaky biatch!

Court:

It was really sweet, my guys. You have to admit.

Think they finally got their shit figured out?

 

Tommy:

Oh, they better! Jealous Amanda was a whole different demon. Did you see the way she was glaring at Damien? Miss girl isn't playing when it comes to her feral guinea pig.

 

Chanse:

Angela and I talked about it earlier, and I said that if they aren't together by tomorrow, I'll make Damien kiss her again to see Amanda act even more stupid until she confesses.

I need them to start dating so I could stop listening to the whining of two women who are both obviously in love with each other but keep trying to disguise the things they do as friendly. What do you mean you have Thursday bestie dinner every week where you try out new places and give each other flowers? Girl, that's called a date, and that bestie wants to kiss you. Get up!

 

Court:

To be fair, Shayne and I had those too.

 

Tommy:

And you had a very lovely wedding, Court.

 

Court:

OH. MY. GOD.

THEY'RE ABSOLUTELY GOING TO GET MARRIED.

Should we start pitching wedding hashtags now?

 

Chanse:

Spork's going to be the ring bearer, won't he?

 

Tommy:

I CANNOT wait to grill Mandy about this. GAY PRIDE! 

 

Court:

Gay always wins <3