#have something i drew before i moved and forgot to post bc i was so busy

[greatdisaster]

headcanon

[notsodailycake]

Ok so I don't even know how active the fandom is rn, and I honestly have no idea what’s in rn with the community bc I haven't touched it since 2022, buuuut, i have this drawing i did...

My Eugene/Luke fan child, and keep in mind i drew this back in 2022 and like..completely forgot to post it

I was supposed to do something else to add to this, i think properly plan her story better?? Idk, but i keep going back to my old drawings and crossing paths with this one and, man, she deserved to shine a little before i completely moved one from this fandom YwY

I was also, slightly, embarrassed to share her ngl, so i guess there was that.

Feel free to ask anything about her, my ask box is open, otherwise i hope you enjoy this little drawing. It was my first attempt in the UWO stlye, and i think i did pretty well :D

(Also just kicking myself mentally at some of the spelling here. I apologise bc as much as i may be good at English, it's still not my native language)

[yayforocs]

Ohhhhhhhhhh My God okokok i'm going to be unpacking a lot here and i'm. oh my goodness i'm so excited there's stuff here i FORGOT about!!!!!! never posted anywhere would have been lost forever if i hadn't saved it on this flash drive!!!!!

OLD UNPOSTED ART LET'S GO (pt 1) (yes i'm doing multiple parts bc u can only post 30 images per post)

ohhhhhh man oh man ok i'm looking through and checking on like Each And Every One Of These to make sure they're not actually posted anywhere and m a n

ALRIGHT, cranking the clock alllll the way back to the start of my main blog, july 2012!!!

God ok this is fanart for a slamacow video, it's the like one music video he made :VVV good ol Cube Land!!

shadow of israphel!!!!!! what a series, my brother and i still quote a few lines from it. i actually did draw quite a lot more SoI fanart that never got posted, i'll have to go digging around and see if i can find it.... BUT atl now i know like!! timestamp for when i drew all that!!!

moving on to august 2012!

herobrine in a cloak ig

dklsfjsd did i not feel like drawing regular clothes or.

september 2012!!

genuinely i don't remember if i traced this over my laptop screen or if i just copied it down bc i was pretty good at just like lookin at stuff and replicating it, but it's erza from fairy tail!

october 2012 :V

i opened up a requests thread on the craftedmovie forums, and lookin back it looks like i only ever posted one of them, wack

so here's the rest!

we've got a gamzee makara! we've got 'a brown haired girl (brown eyes may have also been specified? i don't quite remember but i'm p sure brown haired girl was) standing next to fluttershy'! who i actually, since no other specifics on the girl were given, drew to be the protag from the animation Crayon Dragon! and then the third one is the requester, trixomaniac, sitting on a rainbow :VV

november 2012!

we've got more requests!

first one was i don't remember if it was just 'chicken man' or actually the requester's (gafloff was the name) skin but the request was for the person to be holding a butter sword standing over a zombie piglin or something along those lines :V i had no context of skydoesminecraft so i remember being very confused like. why a sword made out of butter XD

and then the second is shadowflare86, holding a gun pointing at the viewer :V whiCH! i had no idea how to draw so i did my best to imitate a pose from this wonderful animation called Serenade to Miette

...looking at this now tho i think it just looks like it could be a fantastic reaction image klshdg

speaking of

i also. did this? i don't remember any context for it tho, i think it may have been another one of the requests?

on to the next folder! here we skip december, then looks like i've posted everything in january, then there's no february folder, so on to march 2013!

starting out strong with this one lskdfjs

so i did actually post like the big middle drawing there, but it was posted before i colored, and also before i drew the other stuff on the page, but yes cue the homestuck art >:J starting with some runawaystuck fanart (and actually i know i added in a little jade and karkat to that page at some point, not sure if i scanned it again later after i added them or not)

copied the talksprites for funsies :V rip jade ig

ohohohoho i don't even remember what the context for this one was but i do definitely remember that i had fun with it X)

OH RIGHT THIS ONE YES IT'S NOT HOMESTUCK BUT!!

FAIRY QUEEN LADY!! THE ORIGINAL DRAWING OF HER!! she was based on a Really Funky Graph i made one time messing around with inputs:

i had a sliding phone so that's unfortunately as good a picture as it's gonna get bc i don't think i can recreate it 😅

april 2012!

cleverbot doodles! kldsfjs i found the post i'd made of the colored drawing i did, and saw in the tags that i'd said ''#website characters #yeah i think there's a name for it but idk what it is'' gijinka friend. the word you are looking for is gijinka

and i had a lot of fun with this gijinka :V

GOD SS PAINT!!!! i think i never posted this bc i was worried it looked too much like he was choking her skdlfj

-oh wow this is. this picture is a lot smaller than i thought it was. slkdfj. anyway another that i can't remember if it's a trace or a replication but it's a yellow from the pokespe manga! please go read it if u haven't it's so so so good

skip to july 2013!

i'm like 90% certain this is a replication. but there's still a 10% of uncertainty. regardless, it's de nam from final fantasy crystal chronicles!

next up is august 2013 :V

ib time ib time

i doodled an au where garry was also a kid :V i think we (mogi and i) also joked around about like. a teenager au? they're both teens? i don't think any doodles came of it tho

october 2013, featuring doodles i know i drew in july bc i remember drawing them sldkfjds oh well

these are a bunch of random ocs i came up with as like. a. ok it's not like a homestuck au bc it doesn't involve any of the comic characters in any way but this was a group of ocs i came up with that played through their own version of sburb and. everyone died but one person. i never came up with names or anything for any of them, it's literally like just what is there visible on the paper is all i had for them 😅 i'm p sure i redrew these guys a few years later, but i don't think i ever scanned it.

-ah i cannot upload any more, let me. multi-part this.

[thebaddestbean]

hope u spamming me with likes as a subtle hint u r gonna post some banger art soon…

For you, my dearest anon, anything

(In all seriousness I’m hoping to have some new art out soon. I’m taking an art class rn but all the prompts are kind of boring- fun to draw, but boring to look at. Once summer starts I’m hoping to draw some cool stuff again. Until then, have a sketchbook dump + some random art I forgot to post)

1. Zombie deer. I moved to a place with a lot of deer and I made this on Halloween. I really oughta go over it in ink sometime but I don’t have access to a photocopier so I can’t right now

2. Portrait of Zuko (the plant). For a while this was hanging directly above the real plant, like that meme where a guy is sitting beneath his own portrait and they look exactly alike.

3. Portrait of Mewtwo (the plant) and a different plant whose name I can’t remember. The second plant has since died, but Mewtwo is still going strong (Mewtwo is the one on the right).

4. Art class assignment. We had to draw a crumpled paper and the light kept changing so I couldn’t get a consistent model. Class ran out of time before I could finish

5. Hand with mushrooms. I actually made this way earlier in the year when I was bored in class.

6. This is actually based on a real photo of my dog on her birthday. I made her a “cake” made out of meatloaf and mashed potatoes.

7. This one makes me mad bc I messed up the perspective and it’s way too wide. Ironically, I think I drew it just to prove to someone that perspective drawing isn’t as bad as everyone makes it out to be. But yeah I was on a lemon demon kick so that’s Cabinet Man

8. The most recent in my plant tarot series. These are just little doodles I like to do in class, bc I usually can do them without a reference. The chariot is Himalayan blackberry and the tower is based on a real poison hemlock plant that I tried and failed to destroy.

9. The magician. I originally wanted to use a lichen as the magician bc they’re an amalgamation of a lot of wildly different things that come together into one much stronger thing. But I couldn’t figure out a way to draw a lichen that would be recognizable, so I just went with plants, fungi, animals, and earth. The mushroom is a destroying angel.

10. The fool. Idk why but I’ve been kinda obsessed with the idea of a dandelion as the fool. Something about it coming up in the harshest of environments and thriving anyways. Idk. It’s very messy but it’s fun to make.

Anyways anon ily (also pls dm me if you want access to the Secret Art! (aka the art that isn’t good or finished enough to post))

[wondernimbus]

a ghost story — cedric diggory

pairing: cedric diggory x female!reader

prompt: the thing with love is that it doesn't matter who it’s between; even if it's between someone who’s alive and someone who isn’t.

t/w: mentions of death

a/n: ahhh probably not gonna be able to post as much as i used to anymore bc i’ve been spending too much time on tumblr & social media DDD: anyways yay cedric 

If you wander the halls of the Hogwarts castle, it's likely you'll come across a translucent figure or two, some eager to talk to you and others who won't even bat an eye.

Ghosts. Some have been around for decades, others for entire centuries, but many have aimlessly roamed the grounds for so long no one really knows—or cares—where or when or how they died. There are those that are bitter and hold incessant grudges; they wander through walls, angrily uttering empty threats under their breaths that they have long since lost the ability to truly carry out. They are ghosts after all; mere imprints of the departed soul, according to the usual textbook, and there are a variety of things that they can no longer do that they once were able to when they were alive.

Take the young Hufflepuff ghost, for example, who died at the young age of seventeen, long before she could truly live her life beyond the school walls. Before she could graduate or find love or do whatever was on her agenda.

That in itself is a tragedy. But if you happen to come across her in the castle—because Merlin knows she is always, always wandering, never in one place at one time—you will see that the last thing she seeks is vengeance.

Quite the opposite, actually.

—

There were times when [Y/N] regretted choosing to stay.

Times when she drifted through the corridors of Hogwarts and found herself wishing she’d left all of it behind and moved on to the afterlife—no matter how uncertain the idea of it seemed—instead of having to live every single day watching students go about talking and laughing and living the life she never got to live.

It could have been torture; watching them grow from timid, wide-eyed children oblivious to the workings of the world, to reckless teenagers who took every moment they had for granted, to slightly more mature versions of themselves, ready to venture out into the world beyond them and go down whichever path they wanted to. Become an Auror, maybe. Or a Healer. Start a family, grow a business, explore the world.

It could have been torture.

But that was only depending on which way she looked at it. She could have looked at those very same students and seen a life she never got to experience. But she could have also looked at each of them and seen a life she could experience over and over with each new batch of innocent first-years—and yes, it wasn't her life to live, per se, but wasn't that the magic of it all? To watch from the sidelines and witness them grow and blossom and do as much as they could with the life they'd been given?

So yes—there were times she regretted choosing to stay—but there were also times she was grateful she did.

It was the little things like whenever she spotted a lost first-year and helped him find his way. Or when she roamed the corridors and earned waves from friendly students. Or when she told them stories like the one about the Bloody Baron and Peeves fighting and the other ghosts having to break them up. (It was a story that she told quite often, but one they—especially the children—never got tired of.)

And in exchange, they told her stories. Who was dating who. Who broke up with who. Who might be breaking up with who. She'd become a friend to many students; a listening ear, albeit a translucent one.

But the catch was obvious: those students had to leave eventually, and [Y/N] had to stay.

It was sad, at first, having to bid farewell to her friends when they graduated. But it had been a hundred years and [Y/N] had grown used to it. The knowledge of forever being stuck at seventeen while they got to age and marry and do as much as they wanted to with the rest of the time they have.. well, it didn't quite hurt as much anymore.

It shouldn’t hurt when she had to say goodbye. At least not anymore, when she'd been doing it over and over for the last century.

So it shouldn’t have hurt—the idea of losing him. He was just one of the thousands of students she'd met, after all. Just one more person she had to let go of.

It really shouldn’t have hurt.

But it did. And [Y/N] may have been a ghost, but she wasn't dumb, so it didn't take her long to figure out that it hurt because she'd fallen in love. It was a very stupid move on her part, given that she was a bloody ghost and he was very much alive and human, but. Well. Love was love—no matter who it was between.

—

[Y/N] remembers Cedric when he was just eleven years old, young and energetic and a little naïve.

He was one of the nicer ones, if not the nicest. (Because of course there were those that weren’t as open to the idea of befriending a lonely Hufflepuff ghost; why bother talking to someone dead?)

Cedric had strayed away from his group of first-years to approach her by the staircases. She’d been hovering above the banister, watching them fondly—a little longingly—until he came up to her, beamed with a blinding sort of brightness, stuck his hand out, and then said, “Hi, it’s nice to meet you!”

[Y/N] had stared at him, slightly surprised. Usually it was the first-years that took a little longer to befriend, given that most of them had grown up believing ghosts were to be feared, but every few years or so there’d be someone like the little eleven-year-old boy in front of her whose name she did not yet know, eager to make friends—even with a ghost.

”Hi there,” she’d said, own lips quirking up into a small grin as she stared down at him. “Are you sure you want me shaking your hand? It’s going to be a little cold.”

”That’s perfectly fine!” His eyes were bright; extraordinarily so. They gleamed with so much childlike innocence that [Y/N] found herself thinking back to vague bits of her youth that she didn’t know she remembered. “You looked lonely, so.”

She’d laughed. “Well, if you say so.” And when she reached out and shook the little boy’s hand—or, well, tried to—her own slipped right through his solid one.

He’d flinched and pulled his hand back. “That was really cold!”

Another laugh. “See, I told you.”

”Well, it was nice meeting you, anyway. I’m Cedric, and—“

”Cedric!” a Hufflepuff prefect was calling to him. “Come on, now, we’ve got to get to the common room!”

Cedric had pouted. “Well, I’ll see you around.. um..“

”[Y/N],” she’d told him, smiling softly, glad to make a new friend. “My name was [Y/N].”

—

She saw much of Cedric over the years, given that he was in Hufflepuff and thus often roamed the same corridors she haunted. But she had a feeling that even if he weren’t, he was still the type of person to go out of his way to search the vast grounds of the Hogwarts castle to look for her, because to Cedric, she was just as much of a friend as any of his other human ones.

She watched him grow with the passing of time, along with the other students, although part of her had grown especially fond of him. Cedric, whose talent for storytelling rivaled her own—whose kindness and compassionate heart rivaled just about anyone else’s—was not just another fleeting moment in her countless years at hogwarts. [Y/N] knew she would remember him when he left. She just didn’t know how hard it would be when he did.

—

When Cedric reached sixteen, it was only then that he changed in [Y/N]’s eyes; he’d gone from a little eleven-year-old with round, pink cheeks to something akin to a man, athletic and intelligent and exceptionally handsome.

When Cedric reached sixteen, [Y/N] was still seventeen. The same age she’d been for a long, long time.

[Y/N] was a ghost, and she had no real purpose anymore. Cedric was alive, and he had classes to go to. Other friends to talk to who had living, beating hearts and something in life to actually look forward to. Friends who he would still talk to long after he graduated. Friends who wouldn’t be bound to the castle until the end of time (if there was an end).

And yet Cedric spoke to her as though she was anything but a ghost.

He didn't just briefly wave to her whenever he saw her in the hallways, no; he would ask her how her day went, as if it actually mattered. He confirmed her previous suspicious; he didn't just count on their opportune meetings. He looked for her. His friends would find it strange, but he'd detach himself from them in favor of roaming the corridors, searching for a ghost, eager to tell her about his latest adventures.

Cedric made her feel like she was human. Made her feel like she was alive.

Whenever she spoke to him, it was as though her heart started to beat again for the first time in a hundred years. She wondered if he felt the same way, even if the notion of it was ridiculous. The idea of a ghost catching feelings for a human was a bizarre idea in and of itself, but of a human reciprocating those feelings? For someone who technically didn't even exist?

It was unheard of.

It was unheard of, but it wasn't impossible.

—

[Y/N] spent many nights in the Astronomy tower.

She couldn't remember much of her life. The memories faded away from her with each passing day, becoming blurry at the edges, like the longer time stretched on the farther away they went. They were still there, but she only vaguely recalled workings of the world, emptied of specifics, faces, names back from when she was alive. Like shelves labeled for memories, except they were empty.

She couldn't remember how she died, either, or why she chose to stay. It was odd. As far as she knew, the other ghosts knew fully well how they came to perish. But she wondered if maybe it was better that way; maybe she forgot for a reason.

But the Astronomy tower felt oddly familiar. There was something about it that drew her in. She knew it was relevant to her, in some way, even though she wasn't entirely sure how.

So she would stay there at sundown, looking out over the edge of the railing waiting for a blanket of stars to appear in the sky. Waiting for memories to come back to her, even though part of her knew that they weren't likely to.

The first time Cedric ever found her there, in his sixth year, he'd exclaimed, "There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you", and—oh.

For a ghost, [Y/N] always seemed to be exceptionally happy. Her eyes were always impossibly bright for a dead soul. But now she looked the saddest Cedric had ever seen her, like she was thinking back on all those hundred years she spent with the students and yet at the same time so very alone.

The sun had already set, the last bit of daylight filtering into the tower from the open sides. Cedric had walked forward and silently joined [Y/N] at the edge, sitting down on the floor next to her and staring out at the horizon.

He didn't say anything. He knew this wasn't about him; [Y/N] had to be the one to speak first.

Cedric didn't count the seconds as they passed, just stared out at the fading light as he waited. And waited. And he knew he would wait as long as it took.

And then, finally—"I wish I remembered how I died," she said quietly, her eyes glued to the scenery before her, and if she were alive there would have been tears inside them. Instead there was only a painful sort of wistfulness. "Or why I chose not to move on. I wish I knew, just so I’d feel justified in staying. But I don't. So now I don't know why I’m still here instead of—" she paused, frowning. "Well, I don't know what's beyond here, really. What real death is like. But it can't be too bad, can it?"

Another brief pause.

“I get brief flashes of my life sometimes," she murmured. "Nothing too big. Nothing enlightening. Nothing that really answers my questions. But I get most of them when I’m right here, in this tower."

For the first time since he sat next to her, [Y/N] turned her head just a fraction of an inch to look at him, eyes meeting his. "And when I’m with you," she said, voice soft. "When I’m with you, Cedric, I remember what it felt like to be—" a sharp exhale, as though it was exhilarating to say it out loud, "alive."

Cedric held her gaze for a few seconds. Maybe more. And then, quietly, as though he was letting her in on a secret (and in a way, he was): "If I told you I loved you, what would you say?"

There. It was a revelation, if anything, both to himself and to her. All the confirmation both of them needed that humans could love whoever they wanted to, even ghosts like her. Cedric had done it, hadn’t he?

He’d known her for seven years, and slowly, gradually, he’d fallen for her. No matter the fact that they were from two drastically different worlds. That was enough proof.

She was unresponsive for a while. And then she laughed. A sad sound. She turned back to the horizon, such little light left to seep through her translucent skin. "I’d say you were daft, falling in love with a ghost."

"If I asked you to wait for me," he reached out towards her hand, which was set on the floor. This time Cedric didn’t wince, even though it felt like he’d plunged his arm in icy water. "What would you do?"

She frowned down at their hands. It took her a long, long time, but when she spoke again, Cedric knew she meant it.

"I’d wait," she told him. Her smile was sad. "I’d wait for you, Ced. And I can only hope that you'll remember me, when the time comes.”

—

[Y/N] had been ready.

She’d prepared herself for the idea of waiting for a long time. A few more decades at most.

Cedric was going to leave, and she was going to stay. He would graduate and she would stay. He’d find a job, live the rest of his life to the best of his abilities, get married, start a family. Cedric would die, someday, and [Y/N] would stay at Hogwarts, forever seventeen, counting on the almost-promise he’d made back at the Astronomy tower.

A few decades more and she wouldn’t be so lonely anymore. A few decades more and maybe she’d start feeling a little like herself again.

But the idea of Cedric staying for her when he does die years and years and years from then—of asking him not to move forward into the afterlife and stay bound to the castle forever, just so she’d have someone to be with..

It was selfish.

But Cedric told her that it was his choice. When the time came, he said, he would choose to stay with her.

It almost made Cedric cry, thinking about it—about her just being here, staying just like this, for years more, and him growing older and older, growing apart. In the grand scheme of things, seven years spent learning to love a ghost shouldn’t have meant much, especially for her, who would have centuries more time to exist. But sitting here, with her cold hand almost in his, Cedric decided that the seven years he'd spent with her were the happiest moments of his life.

It could be sad. He could think of those times and see seven years of being so close to the girl he loved and yet at the same time so terribly far; unable to hold her the way he really wanted to. But he could also see the seven happiest years of his life; a time filled with love and adventure.  A time that defined him, molded him into everything he was today.

So no, Cedric wasn't sad. He was the happiest he'd ever been and would ever be in his entire life.

—

”Aren’t you scared?”

”Of what?”

”Of dying.”

Cedric kept his eyes on the stars, gaze wistful as though he was thinking of a life that he had yet to experience. "I don’t think so. Not if I think of what's waiting for me beyond it."

"Decades from now."

He turned to look at [Y/N], then down at where their hands were just inches apart, one solid and the other translucent. One dark in the night, one glowing silver. “Decades.”

A lot could happen in several decades. Cedric could change his mind. Several decades from now, he could look back on the young ghost from the Hogwarts castle and decide that maybe she wasn't worth staying for. Or he could just forget, and never once look back over his shoulder.

But [Y/N] trusted him, and she was ready to wait.

She’d wait for as long as it took him.

—

The day came far earlier than she'd been expecting.

When news broke that one of the Triwizard Champions had been murdered, [Y/N] had felt fear, for the first time in a very long time.

And when the hushed whispers of horror turned into murmurs of Cedric’s name, mourning him, crying for him, [Y/N] had felt anguish so terrible it was as though she was dying all over again.

Cedric wasn’t supposed to die. Not this early.

—

The next time she saw Cedric, for the first time in seven years her hands didn’t go through his anymore.

—

Cedric never regretted it, choosing to stay.

Admittedly, when Death came knocking and asked him the question he thought he'd have to answer far, far into the future, there was a split-second of hesitance.

Just a tiny moment of doubt. Just one. Moving forward into the afterlife, letting Death take him once and for all, leaving this world to set forth into whatever lay beyond it; it was the idea of that that made him hesitate.

But then he thought of [Y/N]—of the idea of being able to hold her the way he could never have done in life, and to be able to do that as much as he wanted to in death. Of being able to finally be with her. Of having her after being so terribly close to it for so long.

He thought of her, and he knew what he wanted.

—

For centuries, there have been two young ghosts who roam the corridors of the Hogwarts castle hand-in-hand, eager to offer a helping hand to anyone who might need it, never running out of tales of love and magic and laughter to tell the students, who, in turn, go to them bearing stories of their own.

They died too young, the pair of them. But the youthful gleam in their eyes never died out, and neither did the love they held for each other—the love that was there long before the other died. The love that will stay until the end of time (if there is an end).

Often you can find them roaming the Hufflepuff corridors. Some say they see the two ghosts in the Astronomy tower, mostly during sundown, sitting on the edge by the railings as the last traces of daylight trickle in through the open windows.

But they are always there, if you look hard enough. Always eager to offer a helping hand. Never apart. Never one without the other.

They call them Cedric and [Y/N]—the ghosts who died too early, and yet were lucky enough to find love. One in life and the other in death.

Call it magic. Call it a miracle. Call it nothing at all; but somehow, two people who were perhaps never meant to find love in each other, got what they wanted, in the end.

And Death knows all they ever wanted was each other.

[koutarousangel]

━ hometown glory.

prompt : you were incredibly nervous to return home, especially since you knew that he’d returned home too. loosely inspired by this.

genre : angst to fluff

warnings : i mean at this point i can put swearing as a warning every time cause they’re apart of my everyday vocabulary lmao.

music suggestion : hometown glory - adele, happiest year - jaymes young, from the dining table - harry styles.

author’s note : @asdfghjkl7things​​ thank you so much for your support and your request ! i hope you like it !

you and hajime started dating during your third year in high school.

it was a surprise to practically everyone who knew you two, but the both of you had promised each other that you’d keep it on the down low as you were getting to know each other. mostly bc the two of you had friends that never knew how to shut up.

and what you had between you wasn’t really anyone else’s business.

you’d comforted him when they’d lost to karasuno, telling him that it wasn’t his fault and that he’d done all that he could, and you told him that if he wanted to, he could play volleyball again, or do whatever he wanted.

he’d consoled you when you failed the one exam that you needed to pass to go to the university of your dreams and he encouraged you to take the make-up exam, studying with you and making sure you were more than prepared.

you were each other’s rock and you genuinely thought that you were going to last.

until you got into an argument which turned into a full-blown fight bc the two of you were moving away from each other to study your respective courses.

you were scared of long-distance bc you didn’t want to hold iwa back, iwa tried telling you that you could make it work, but as you insisted, he accused you of never really loving him and that you were just finding a way out.

ouch.

four years later, the both of you were college graduates, and something drew you both back to japan.

walking through your hometown felt strange. it was familiar, heartwarming, but at the same time it felt as if you were a tourist, discovering everything for the first time. it had been a while since you’d walked through the streets of miyagi, having gotten used to the streets of london so much that the peace and quiet was almost far too loud. you’d thought about it, staying in london and finding a job there, settling with a brand new life but part of you missed japan so much, your family, your friends … him.

“you know,” your friend looked at you pointedly as she wiped a vegetable piece away from the corner of her mouth, “he’s back in japan, right?” it was almost as if she was fighting a smirk.

a sigh left your lips as you shook your head a little bit, “i know… he posted something on instagram,” the subtle confession that you still followed him on social media came out as a grumble, because you knew that your friend would make it her priority to never let you live it down. which was why you’d never told her that you’d accidentally liked one of his posts.

her eyes widened to the size of saucers and she practically choked on her drink, batting at your upper arm, “you sly fox you, so you do follow him!” you halted her frantic movements by grabbing her wrist.

“i do, which is also how i know that he has a girlfriend,” it was almost comical, how your friend practically deflated at your comment, scowl growing on her face, “it’s been four years, it was bound to happen.”

still, seeing him with his arm around her shoulders made your heart ache and you had angrily swiped away at the tears that spilled down your cheeks, because it was your fault. keeping him back had never been your intention and that’s what you felt you would have done had you remained in a relationship together. all that distance, the drastic time difference, attending separate colleges full of new experiences. you wanted hajime to have the world.

it was almost as if fate was trying to play some sort of cruel trick on you, because as your mind raced with thoughts of your old high school boyfriend, you felt yourself collide with someone and as soon as you heard your name being uttered by the person in question, you swore your heart wanted to jump out of your chest.

“hajime…” his name tumbled out of your mouth in what practically could be constituted as a breathless gasp, as if seeing his face in person after four years had completely winded you.

the man in question took a slight step back, taking a good look at you, almost making sure that you were really in front of him, and not his imagination toying with him. “small world,” was his only comment as he scratched the back of his head, awkwardness settling between you two as you wrapped your arms around yourself, the chill in the air suddenly very prominent.

“would you like to get some-” “i was going to go get some” the both of you spoke at the same time, nervous words overlapping each other. “coffee…” a smile as your shared thoughts fell together in perfect harmony, as if nothing had changed.

you had walked to the coffee shop in silence, questions of why you’d agreed to get coffee with your ex racing through your mind but the reason was simple … you didn’t want to walk away from him, not yet at least. sneaking glances at him while he grabbed your coffees made your heart thump faster than it had in a while, reminiscent of the first time you’d went on a date together.

there was a slight fear that it would be far too awkward to handle, but the two of you fell into a comfortable conversation, telling stories of your college days, how you’d gotten so drunk one time that you ended up stealing a plant and taking it back to your dorm, or how he’d once gotten so hungry during a late study session that he and his friends went to a mcdonalds drive through, even though they didn’t have a car.

you laughed until your face hurt, and you hadn’t realised, but the two of you had instinctively gotten closer to each other, and his arm had ended up wrapped around your chair, you leaned over and shoved him whenever he said something to tease you.

it was as if these four years apart never happened.

as your shared laughter died down and you finished off your drink, iwaizumi looked down at his lap and shook his head slightly, chuckling to himself and making you smile softly, “what?” you questioned, poking his shoulder.

“it’s still you, you know?” he looked up at you, eyes locking with yours as he gave a slight shrug of his shoulders, “the person i see by my side at the end of the day.”

his words hit you like a punch to the gut and you almost forgot how to breathe. you cringed, nose burning as tears tickled the corners of your eyes as you pushed your chair back, standing up and grabbing your belongings, holding them close to your chest as you rushed out of the coffee shop.

you could hear him calling for you, but the blood had rushed to your ears and you were trying your hardest to keep from crying, but as soon as you felt his hand around yours, you spun around and shoved at his chest, once, twice, tears dripping freely onto the pavement, cheeks burning red with anger and sadness, heart that was excitedly jumping around, now quietly sitting in the corner, thumping cautiously as you felt him grab at your hands to stop you from hitting him any further.

“you can’t say that shit hajime! you can’t say it, not after four years of nothing … you didn’t try to fight for me, convince me to stick with you through it all, and you have someone else! how sick can you be? saying that shit to me, stringing that girl along …” the anger wasn’t making you think straight, words spilling out of your mouth without you mulling them over first. 

it was iwaizumi’s turn to get angry at your words, “you broke up with me!” he pushed your hands away from his before pointing an accusatory finger at you, “you broke up,” and he turned his finger shakily at himself, “with me.”

your mouth dropped open and you closed it again, gaping at the air like a fish out of water, hoping the words would come to you, “i wanted what’s best for you,” you managed to whisper, “i wanted for you to be happy.”

“and you came to that decision on your own!” his chest was heaving now, bottom lip trembling as he tried to keep his strong facade, but it was crumbling, “how dare you, decide for me what’s best for me?” his words were only making your chest ache because they were true. you were scared that you were not enough for him, that you’d never be enough for him, “you were what’s best for me, i wanted to share everything with you!” but you were wrong. 

he let out a strangled laugh, “and that girl? she knew it too. i tried going on one date with her, and when i tried going home with her, she pushed me away and told me that i was just kidding myself and setting myself up to get hurt, because my heart was with someone else.”

the two of you were practically in hysterics, wild stares at each other, tears staining your cheeks and some threatening to fall on his own. this was how the argument was supposed to go four years ago, not with you doing everything in your power to walk away. you needed to talk it out, communicate with each other; the only reason it had reached this point, as if you were two people in some kind of romantic movie on the sidewalk professing your love for each other, was because all these emotions had accumulated during the past four years.

after he let out a couple of strangled breaths, iwaizumi’s shoulders slumped, and he raked his hand through his hair, shaking his head and going to sit down on the sidewalk, arms on his knees and head bowed forward.

you watched him for a couple of moments, hand pressed over your mouth as you tried not to sob. the man who’d held your heart so firmly in his hands even if you were continents away had never given up on you. suddenly you didn’t feel so pathetic, but the guilt was eating you alive. you’d never meant to hurt him so, you adored him and you really did want the best for him.

swallowing back the remainder of the tears, you looked up at the sky and sniffled softly, before taking a couple of brave steps forward, kneeling down and wrapping your arms around his shoulders, burying your face into his neck, “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” you chanted softly, knowing that no matter how many times you said it, silently praying that he’d accept your apology, even though you didn’t really deserve it.

his hand rested gently on your forearm and he kept his head forward, pressing soft kisses to your wrist and the back of your hand. iwa hesitated for a moment, before he rested his hands on your waist, carefully guiding you to his lap and wrapping his arms around you, rocking you back and forth and shushing you quietly as you continued to sob into his chest. the way he said your name was as soft as a butterfly coming to rest on a fingertip, and he gently guided your face up to look at his.

“i forgive you,” he admitted to you, giving you a small smile, “i’m sorry for yelling, i’m sorry for letting you go ... ” his forehead came to rest against yours, and his eyes were closed. you could feel your heart practically soaring, having him so close again, him accepting your apology. 

your hand came to rest on his face, thumb gently drawing back and forth across his cheek, before leaning forward and leaving a tentative kiss on the side of his mouth, watching as his eyes all but shot open, cheeks burning red under the palm of your hand as he looked into your eyes, “i forgive you too hajime.”

~ three year timeskip. ~

you were anxious. more anxious then you had been ever in your life. 

you’d been with hajime ever since you reconciled now, going through all the motions with settling into your life back in japan, finding a job you both love but still there were struggles. like how hajime worked himself to the bone, hell bent on being the best athletic trainer the national volleyball team had ever seen. you laid blankets on his shoulders when he slept at his desk while he was writing reports or planning injury prevention programs. meanwhile, he carried you to bed whenever you fell asleep on the couch because you couldn’t sleep in an empty bed, or when you were studying for your job and you fell asleep at your own desk.

your relationship was strong, communication prominent during the whole time, because you knew what could happen if it wasn’t there. the two of you never went to bed angry with each other, he always brought home flowers if he fucked up, hiding his face behind the bouquet as he uttered an apology and you always made sure to bring him a cup of tea to bed if you stepped out of line, before cuddling into his side and muttering a small ‘i’m sorry’ into the silence.

vip tickets gave you the perfect view of the volleyball court, adorning the japanese flag on one of your cheeks and a polo shirt that matched hajime’s with ‘iwaizumi’ spread across your shoulders.

it would be your own name anyway, you thought, as you twirled the engagement ring around your finger, grinning brightly before looking up at him and giving him an encouraging wink, mouthing an i love you at him.

you’d returned home twice; to japan the first time, and to iwaizumi hajime’s heart the second time.

[thetomorrowshow]

i will make the sky collapse ch. 3

First - Previous - Read on AO3!

Ok this post is queued bc y’all will not believe how busy I am, so it’ll be on ao3 a little late

CW: referenced violence, food, brief allusion to suicide, spiraling thoughts (from mr. jack kelly himself)

~

Jack had been here all day. When he ran from the rooftop after the disastrous strike, he’d snuck in through the backdoor of the theater and curled up in a corner, shaking and gasping and barely holding back tears. He’d been so close to just throwing himself off the rooftop, close enough that he knew he couldn’t stay there.

Now he hid behind the various set pieces, trying to not disturb anyone who still might be working around here this late. Not that there should be anyone, now. He’d even completely avoided Miss Medda. The woman liked to believe that she knew everything that went on around the theater, and Jack was content enough to let her. He couldn’t be found right now, though. Not when his nose burned and eyes smarted and knees wouldn’t stop shaking.

He would talk to Medda in the morning. It was late now, and all the lights were out, so it wasn’t like he had much of an option otherwise. Talk to her, maybe paint a background or two . . . maybe she would pay him like she offered . . . then he would be out of here, as soon as he could get Crutchie.

Crutchie. His heart practically split in half, and a tear finally slipped down his nose. They got Crutchie. They took him to the one place Jack had tried to save him from his entire life.

He had plans to head there near dawn tomorrow--after he’d spent another day planning things out. It shouldn’t be too hard to get him--or it wouldn’t, had it been anyone other than Crutchie. Any other boy would figure out how to climb down the wall, but it would be impossible without all working limbs. Crutchie’s bad leg wouldn’t be able to support him at all, especially not after the beating he’d taken in the Square (and definitely not after whatever Snyder and his goons had done so far during his stay, but Jack didn’t like to think about that). Jack could go in the front, the only door . . . but there was no way someone wouldn’t see him. There was always a guard or three hanging around, if not the Spider himself. And how would he get Crutchie down the stairs all by his lonesome?

A tiny voice spoke up in the back of his head, one that he’d been pushing down all evening. You coulds just go, it said. Forget about him, forget about all of them. Just go.

I can’t do that, Jack wanted to cry. He’s my brother, I can’ts just abandon him to Snyder!

People don’t stay in our lives forever, Jack, it reminded him. He’d never make it to Santa Fe, anyhow.

Jack couldn’t deny that. Maybe on a better day, in a better month. Maybe when Crutchie was grown, and his leg had calmed down a bit. Not now though, certainly not tomorrow. If Jack was going to leave soon, he was going to do it on his own. He didn’t want none of the others to come with him, anyhow. Only Crutchie.

Jack drew a hand across his tear-stained face, wincing as he brushed one of his bruises. Maybe in the morning he’d have a clearer head, a better understanding of what on earth he was meant to do. It wasn’t like the strike could continue, after all. They’d all end up in the Refuge for sure, or even worse. He’d seen Romeo get socked by that cop, had no idea how he was doing. If they kept on striking, more police would come, better armed and with no qualms about a bunch of stupid street rats.

None of them, save maybe Les, had escaped with zero injuries. Everyone was bleeding and bruised and crying and Crutchie was in the Refuge, and it was all Jack’s fault for getting the riled up about this in the first place. They were just kids! None of them knew what a union was supposed to be, even if Davey knew a bit about them! They were just children playacting at being adults, thinking that the trolley workers were probably having a good old time with no work while they got arrangements for better conditions, not even caring that there were full grown men dying in that strike. People died in strikes, and Jack couldn’t let it happen to any one of his boys, not before they properly got to be a person yet.

So he would leave--no, sleep on it, but he was fairly certain of his choice. Leaving, having to trust that the others would quit the strike and just deal with the raise in prices. That Crutchie would be out in a few months and be good enough to get right back to business, and maybe smiling that face-splitting smile of his eventually. Jack had to believe that he’d--that they’d all--be okay.

He couldn’t stop the sinking feeling in his stomach as he balled his shirt up into a pillow, nor could he stop a few more tears from wetting his cheeks. This was going to be by far the hardest and worst thing he’d ever done. He just had to hold on to Santa Fe. Everything was going to be fine when he got there.

-

Medda had given him one of those disapproving looks of hers, which Jack tried to ignore as his face burned. It had turned to blatant concern when he didn’t refuse her offer of payment. She had let it go, thankfully, and now he was waiting for the base white layer of paint to dry so he could start with the reds and oranges of a sunset. He’d already been waiting for what felt like way too long, so he stuck his thumb to the corner of it. It left a print and came back white, so Jack sighed and wiped it on his shirt--his undershirt, he’d taken his blue button-up off as soon as he’d gotten the paint out.

He couldn’t just not do anything--he could feel his feet itching to go, his head clamoring for his conscious attention. He absently flapped a brush back and forth against his palm, wondering if he could start on another while he waited, get the base coat of that one done and drying while he started on the actual painting of the first one. First he ought to sign this one, though, before he forgot.

Jack always signed his work, usually just on the back of the piece. A quickly scrawled ‘Jack K--’ in black paint, something to set it aside from all the other set pieces. He also knew that the boards would get reused countless times, painted over and cut up and redesigned. It was nice to know that under all that change, his name was there.

He spun it around and cracked open the can of black paint, dipping his brush in lightly and placing it on the blank back of the slab of wood. He could do his name big, more noticeable but with a better chance of getting scraped off. Or tiny, in the corner, somewhere it’d probably stay forever. Then he realized that while he’d been considering, he’d begun painting.

A boy, small, but very clearly a newsie, by his bag. An anguished face. A crutch.

Jack nearly dropped the brush. Was his guilt getting that bad, that he was painting Crutchie out of nowhere? Well, he couldn’t leave him there all alone on the canvas, with such a terrible look on his face. So Jack dipped his brush back in the paint and began another boy, not himself--not now that he was leaving--but Davey, as he liked to think that as Crutchie and Davey would become good friends in time. But Davey needed Les, and Les needed other boys, but of course they couldn’t be painted into this. They were too busy being suffocated by Pulitzer--and with that thought, Jack knew what he was painting.

-

The landscape had started out as any random place, just like all of them did. Mountains, a valley maybe, warm colors and some purple thrown in to capture the magic of a stained-glass sunset, and suddenly it was Santa Fe, exactly as Jack pictured it in his head. This happened with every single backdrop, from meadows to beaches to forests. All of them were Santa Fe, even if they weren’t.

“You ever gonna paint somewhere else, Jack?” a voice asked behind him, as he surveyed his work so far. He chuckled, not turning around, holding his thumb out in front of him the way he’d seen real painters do. He wasn’t quite sure why, but he thought it looked professional-like.

“How could you tell, Miss Medda?”

“Boy, I can tell everything.”

Jack dropped his arm and set his brush down on the floor, wiping his hands on his shirt as he turned around. Medda frowned.

“You are wearing an apron, use it!”

Oh yeah, he was. He moved his hands to it belatedly, smiling a little when Medda laughed at him. She was dressed to leave, not in a costume like Jack had assumed she would be. Were the shows over already?

“I’m heading out for a quick supper,” Medda said, and Jack nodded. One of the shows was over then, the other would be starting soon. He hadn’t lost track of as much time as he thought. “Do you want me to get you somethin’?”

“Aw, don’t worry ya’self over me,” Jack waved off. Sure, he hadn’t had anything to eat all day, but he could grab himself something later. By the look on Medda’s face, she was going to worry herself over him.

“I’ll bring you a sandwich, free of charge,” she said, reaching forward to pat his shoulder. He winced; he hadn’t realized he had a bruise there. Medda gave him another look, then turned to leave. Over her shoulder, she called, “By the way, Jack, there’s someone here to see you. I told him to wait in box five.”

Jack froze. They’d found him. It had to be Davey, didn’t it? The other boys knew that he stopped by the theater every so often, but didn’t know about his paintings. They just thought he knew one of the actors, or was getting food from the back or something. Only Davey and Les knew he worked here on occasion.

Jack put off visiting the box until after Miss Medda returned and told him to get up there before she sent the kid off herself. It was time to confess, he supposed. Let them know he wanted the strike to stop, and was leaving anyhow. At least someone would be able to tell Crutchie where he’d gone. And Katherine, if she cared.

This time he remembered to wipe his hands on his apron, then bundled it up and threw it into a corner. The painting wasn’t done, but he wanted to let it all dry before adding his finishing details. Every time he’d painted before, he hadn’t waited at all and it always came out looking more smudged than he wanted, so he’d decided to experiment a bit. Maybe it would look okay.

He couldn’t put it off any longer, it was time to face the music--or, Davey, rather. Jack knew his way around the theater, so it wasn’t hard to avoid the milling patrons in the lobby completely and skip straight up to box five, ready to talk to--

Specs?

“Specs?”

Specs.

“Specs.”

Specs leaped up from where he’d been perching on the edge of one of the fancy theater chairs, looking guilty as anything. When he saw Jack, though, his face brightened. “You’re all right!”

“Yeah, better than ever,” Jack griped, his eyes caught on the nasty hand-shaped bruise wrapped around Specs’s forearm. “Whaddya need?”

“We’s thought you mighta gotten grabbed by Snyder,” Specs said, looking him up and down, no doubt taking in his relatively few injuries. “The Delanceys been sayin’ you ran. I think some o’ the fellas mighta believed it, but Race thought ya’d be here so I cames by as soon as I could!”

Jack hadn’t counted on telling anyone other than Davey where he was going, but maybe this was for the best. Davey was so new to this, there was no way he could be in charge. Race was the first to come to mind for his replacement, but Race was so stupidly impulsive that Jack wasn’t sure he would be able to keep the boys in line. Specs would do well, though, at least until a better choice came forward. Used to the life, but always a little separate from the others, focusing more on the job than the social aspect. Still, he could have fun, and he was quietly loyal. Yeah, Specs would make a pretty good replacement. Jack opened his mouth to say something along those lines when a dirty scrap of paper was shoved in his face.

“What’s this?” he said instead.

Specs looked nervous and abashed at the same time. “Letter from Crutchie,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I went ta visit last night and he askeds me to give it to ya.”

Jack stared at the paper, taking in none of its details, then shifted his gaze to Specs. His eyes looked honest, if a bit anxious, mouth curved hopefully at the corner. The scrape on his cheek was ugly, but didn’t look infected. Davey must’ve made them all clean up with soap. That was another thing he’d have to tell Specs to remember. If he was going to be in charge, he had to know that Elmer hated the texture of the soap so bad he wouldn’t use it and had to be threatened, that Race sometimes liked to impulsively smear dirt on his wounds to try and get sympathy when it got infected.

Crutchie had written to him.

Jack grabbed the letter so quickly it almost tore, sending Specs stumbling back. Now that he was focused on it, that was definitely Crutchie’s handwriting, starting out relatively neat and just devolving into larger loops and tinier scribbles as it carried on. The paper was dirty, the pencil smudged here and there, and a rusty stain in the middle of the paper that made Jack’s stomach turn as he imagined how it had gotten there.

“I’ll just be headin’ back,” he heard Specs say distantly, but Jack couldn’t look away from the letter. Crutchie had held this, just last night, and he had been alive. Well enough to write a whole letter. Well enough to still have his sense of humor (Jack snorted at his joke about the food, then remembered the sentence preceding it and immediately sobered). Maybe even well enough to escape?

His letter read that he was already coming up with escape plans of his own, which was a good sign for his morale. It also said, though, that he was exhausted and his leg was doing bad.

Well, there was no way Jack couldn’t visit him now. Early in the morning was best--probably when the moon was about halfway done setting--and from there he would see whether or not Crutchie would be coming with him. Then back to the theater to lay low for a bit and finish the backdrop (there was no way Jack would be able to even think about finishing it tonight), then catch a train to Santa Fe and be out of here forever. If Crutchie did come, though, he’d have to do at least two more sets, get enough money for the both of them to make the trip. And of course, he still had to speak to Specs about taking over. Davey would come for him eventually, so he had to come up with something to placate him.

Why did nobody tell him that running away would take so much effort and planning?

The show was starting soon, and that sandwich was still waiting for him in the back room, so Jack ducked out of the box, tucking the letter into his pocket. He had to get ready for a break-in tonight, there was no time to waste.

[randomstarmuffin]

My @runefactorysecretsanta​ gift for ya_boi_nye is finally done!! Hope I did your favorite characters justice!! :)

Happy holidays!!!! I don’t want to take up too much room so I’m going to throw some rambling and extras under the cut lol

So I don’t think nye has a tumblr, but on their twitter i saw that they were into VTube and youtaite and i wanted to incorporate that in their gift somehow. Unfortunately.... the characters are kind of all already anime??? So drawing-wise, i figured it would be more fun to go with a more general YouTuber AU so I could put in some variety rather than just stills of singing or badly rendered 3D models (by which i am throwing shade on myself alone, VTube rigs are sick but i regrettably have no 3D skills lol)

I’ve actually,,, never played Frontier at all, so I apologize if anyone is wildly out of character!! The wiki is extremely sparse and I didn’t have time to watch too too much of the let’s play i found, so if they’re not right just chalk it up to the YouTuber ~performance~ aspect of this AU lmao.

Even though I’ve never played before and don’t know the characters Super well though, I still had a lot of fun thinking about this AU! If you want to know the specifics of everyone’s content:

Anette does parkour (fun facts, this particular move i drew is called a speed vault!) and a little bit of vlogging, and she’s friends with Erik (as in canon, if I did my research correctly lmao). She sometimes appears on his channel and vice versa, and he helps her film and edit and stuff sometimes. She lives and works with Mist and Rosetta and helps out with their online boutique. Mist is the idea woman who comes up with crazy stuff, Rosetta is the realist and bookkeeper who pulls those ideas together into something feasible and profitable, and Anette handles all the packaging and shipments and stuff! There’s always something weird going on in their apartment and everyone ends up there a lot, so some of Anette’s vlogs get really popular just because of how out there they are lmao. Oh, almost forgot, but her channel is “DeliveryIsFreestyle” bc... get it... free delivery... freestyle parkour / freerunning... Lol actually it was almost going to be “RunTheMail” because i couldn’t think of anything at first so i think this was the right move in the end :P

Erik has a gaming channel where he mostly plays farming and dating sims / otome, and we don’t read too far into whether or not RF exists in this universe for him to play even though I put the posters for frontier on his wall xD. The reason I picked Stardew for this thumbnail specifically is because A) I have it and could easily take screenshots and B) i read that he has a crush on Lara? And she’s like, kind of a nurse? And Maru is kind of a nurse? It’s a silly joke but I thought it would be funny to cockblock him from dating a nurse he has his eyes on even in video gaming with his friends lol. His channel is pretty self-explanatory (I was really hoping his farm would have a fun name when i was looking it up but it’s really just “Erik’s Farm” huh? ...but I probably shouldn’t judge, my dnd character’s wolf is named Wolf xD)

Lute paints!! I think he does a lot of speedpaints and mostly does traditional art, but I think he would have some digital skills hidden up his sleeve as well. And also I don’t know why at all bc I know the least about him out of all 4 of them, but I feel like he has done / does some of those like “how to draw anime” videos because I just think that’s funny. He has a bunch of really popular ones about overly complicated fantasy outfits. No this is not a callout for any series in particular why do you ask? Anyway, I’m not sure exactly how the line goes because I couldn’t find it, but the wiki mentions that he’ll say he’s not doing anything suspicious when he’s painting at the lake, so i thought it would be funny if there’s some kind of running gag with his subscribers where they point out suspicious things he does and he responds in the next video or whatever. The thumbnail I made definitely does just have a screenshot of rff that’s color-corrected and blurred, because I ran out of time but also wanted to differentiate the bg from the canvas ^^;  His channel was originally just “lute” in all lowercase but then i got to the part of the let’s play where he was introduced and he calls himself a “fledgling painter” so i thought this was more fun.

And Eunice has a cooking channel!! She specializes in baking, but she also has a whole playlist along the lines of “Nutritious Food Can Still Taste Good!” where she talks about healthy eating habits but doesn’t buy into diet culture bc I personally HATE diet culture lmao. I think when that gets popular, she also maybe does a side thing about easily accessible workouts for all sorts of people who want to get into shape? But with a focus on getting stronger / being active and Not a focus on Losing Weight necessarily. Promoter of healthy and happy living! I know how her events / dialogue can go in the game, i just happen to have Opinions About Things, so, that’s how she is in my version. Also, unrelated, but she’s very cute. Even though her braids were a bitch to draw hahaha. And i did end up drawing her just in her actual outfit even though i gave everyone else different clothes bc idk it just felt like it fit the aesthetic of a cooking vlog well?? And it’s not a super complicated one unlike others i could mention. Her channel is “Charming Sweets” and her cooking series is “My Cooking” because those are the titles of the books she has on her bookshelf at the start of the game :)

But that’s just all of *my* headcanons for the AU! If anyone else who knows them all better has their own ideas, please be my guest and imagine it however you like!!

Oh, also, fun facts, this is partially a screenshot of my actual web browser, lol, so if y’all want to know what all I have saved on my bookmarks bar and what my google profile pic is, now you know. However, i would like to not downplay how long i spent editing this in what was possibly the least efficient way to put it together how i wanted, rip, which is entirely the reason i am posting this so late LOL. Apologies for the delay, but technically it’s still the 27th here, so! Victory!

(speaking of the layout, did anyone catch the url? I’m disproportionately proud of the url. though i won’t lie part of me really wanted to put the rick roll url there just for my own amusement hahaha)

And, yeah! That’s the end of my spiel. Happy end-of-2020 to all, and an extra helping of that sentiment to nye!!!

[friiday-thirteenth]

hi uhhh people? bro i forgot how to greet you guys for a full second there lmao

disclaimer: I'm literally just giving you a rundown of what I've been doing for an hour.

anyway! instead of sleeping bc I was tired, I did something else bc I also have a brain that like categories for seemingly arbitrary things, such as books.

backstory bc its great: I started moving my room around last night, but i had to stop bc I was taking everything out, vacuuming, then moving my bed and all the shit under it, vacuuming there, and then it was like. 9.30 and i was truly tired. then today I moved my dresser and three bookshelves back in and therein begins the story

so I took everything out of my bookshelves, which are tiny and can hold like. 21 good sized books each, which is pathetic, because I have a ridiculously large amount of books that reside within my room.

I sorted those things into groups of author and uh, "genre" which basically boiled down to fun categories such as

really really big (volume of books big, not fame big) series/authors that're fantasy

anti-capitalist fiction that seems really fucking capitalism

non-fiction/books that feel like non-fiction

that one series that I love beyond measure and is where I took Friday from (Friday Barnes by R.A. Spratt)

fiction/sci-fi that I can just... read

fiction that doesn't feel like fiction/books I love from a younger time (artists are crazy and other stories, my beloved <3)

and then there are the authors/series I've got separate categories for:

Tamora pierce (hnghhhhh I love so much)

Rick Riordan

harry potter (bro I still like the books don't sue me. I'm far more critical of the writing tho lmao)

folk of air

six of crows

his dark materials my absolutely fucking beloved <3

the Medora chronicles

yeah there's more but I cbf ANYWAY

then I went out to the shed (that word is not doing it justice. its literally the size of my house. its a second building of its own right, really.) and sorted through boxes of books that we just chuck out there whenever mum has a crisis over the state of the house, and grabbed so many books. like, heaps.

but the thing is, out there is where the good old books are stored, like a bunch of Eoin Colfer ones (supernaturalists.... the wish list.... airman.... half-moon investigations..... Artemis fowl..... hnghhhhhh), a poetry book I had been reading online bc I didn't know we had it, The Hobbit, a bunch of Nancy Drew, and like. Wuthering heights.

and so I brought those (and more sbfbfv) inside and now I have so many piles, sorted and unsorted, just sitting on my floor. my room consists of a bed, a dresser, a lamp, three tiny bookshelves, and shit tons of books.

oh, plus the boxes filled with all of Charles Dickens work in matching covers, plus the complete works of shakespeare that's formatted like a fucking Bible. same type of paper and everything.

OH, AND I WENT OUTSIDE IN THE M I D D L E O F T H E N I G H T, in the freezing cold (bc its hitting winter here) in shorts and a t-shirt when I went to the shed. like. jfc idiot. then i fumbled around in the dark to find the light switch, as I was listening to the episode of welcome to nightvale where the computer comes to life bc the wallaby's daughter, Meghan, is literally just a man's hand. it's very terrifying to here a weird-ass computer voice just. play creepily through your earbuds, I'll tell you that.

here have some book related anecdotes that don't relate to this post whatsoever apart from the fact that Books

I remember the time it was a really hot day and I sat in the shed and read day of the triffids or whatever the title is. I'm pretty sure people were blinded and this one guy could still see and he got threatened. I was like, ten. I did not read age appropriate things bc I was fucking weird.

life ft. the time me and my friend laughed over the word boob in a book when we were twelve. go us. she's a lesbian now.

i go to second-hand bookstores with my dad whenever we aren't in my hometown, and it's a bad idea because I've come away from those with $50 worth of books before. and there was that one time where dad brought me the entirity of Charles Dickens' books for like, surprisingly cheap.

the Friday Barnes book series I was talking abt is like. it's it's connector between my mum and me bc she got the first one and we'd wait rlly rlly eagerly for the next to be released bc then we could buy it and I'd read it and then she'd read it and I think that's cool.

this has literally been a post about books I hope you have a nice life goodnight for potential reals.

[skelemira]

GIVE THE UL SNAS AND ROWAN LORE PLS PLS PLS I NEED THIS

OK FINALLY DONE WITH ART AND ON THE BUS HOME LET'S *DO THIS*

But before I start I should say this is not my characterization, it's actually how my bestest friend @hyacinthlanes characterizes him (she's also the one who drew my pfp btwwwwww I love you Saphhhhhhhh)

Aight so these two motherhuggers are the cutest fRICKING couple you ever will see. So I actually lowkey uh forgot how they met, I don't even think I set it in stone, I think I started writing a oneshot about it and then just straight up didn't finish it lol but I think I'm gonna go with that they meet at Muffet's.

(btw when I refer to Sans and Papyrus hereforth I mean UL Snas and Paps)

So Paps has a bit of a sweet tooth, nothing major just a bit of a craving for pastries now and then, and he knows Muffet is good about not making her pastries with an ungodly amount of sugar, so he pops by every once in a while. So one time he goes to Muffet's and he sees a new waitress. Now Muffet has *never* hired somebody to help her, so that immediately caught his attention. He noticed that she was a little bit awkward, clearly new to waitressing, and a little bit clumsy every now and then, though she seemed a bit more fearful of Muffet when she made mistakes than he thought was brought on by Muffet being a spider.... Especially because Muffet seemed to be acting extra sweet to the waitress. The waitress eventually got to him, asking for his order before stopping herself and apologizing, introducing herself as Rowan and then asking for his order again.

He brought out all the charm he could, and by the end of the conversation he had even coaxed a giggle out of her. It wasn't even much of a giggle, and she quickly stifled it, but he knew in that moment he would do anything to hear her full blown laugh. (In a completely platonic way, dw there is no jealousy. Though perhaps it might go a different way in an au 👀👀👀)

He went home and Sans noticed he was much more upbeat than normal. Usually when he went to Muffet's he was happy but he would go straight for a 5 mile jog to "burn off the sugar", but this time Paps just went into the kitchen to start prepping for dinner, humming merrily.

Eventually Sans pried it out of Paps about the new waitress and how adorable she was, and you just KNOW Sans is a sucker for adorable things so he decided to pay Muffet a visit (though he would definitely get Grillby's after to "atone").

Yeah so uh it took a couple of weeks for him to get around to going to Muffet's, not that he was dreading it, he just takes his sweet time to do something he says he's gonna do.

He steps one foot into Muffet's and curses under his breath.

Because he sees Rowan tentatively confident, making a joke with Muffet as she wiped down a table, and the ensuing giggle had a burst of magic zip through him, apparently so much that Muffet paused in her laughter, her gaze going to him and raising one eyebrow.

(I really just ended up writing a whole thing huh XDDD)

He saw a glimpse of that confident radiance peeking through the walls that seemed to be slowly crumbling and he became resolved to break them down, if just to see what was hiding behind them.

It started with him trying out various comedy routines as she took his order, anything to hear that giggle again (oh my stars she likes *puns*), and it eventually turned to flirting (her blush is *adorable* and he loves it more than anything) which eventually turned to him asking her out. She said yes <3 (obviously lol) and they started going out.

So obviously my boi Sans has some trauma, we hc him here as asexual, but I mean either way being forced to be in constant heat is gonna have some nasty consequences even if you weren't asexual, plus he feels like in other people's eyes he's been reduced to just sex, plus a lot of other stuff that I'm not going to mention bc that's Saph's territory lol (Btw forgot to mention Rowan is panro-ace like me <3 bc self indulgence XDDD)

So having a girlfriend who is also asexual and doesn't *at all* expect sex or even really want it most of the time if at all and who's basically like a best friend but also romantic is just. Exactly what he needs. Their dates are just the cutest and they both understand the other has trauma so when one has days where the "air is heavy" (basically days where it's hard to move or hard to breathe, like the air is too heavy to move through etc) the other is just there for them. ANYWAY they're too cute your honor

So eventually they move in together, think cottagecore and you've got basically Rowan and Oberon's house, they're adorable and their home is so cozy.

There are so many little moments that are just adorable I can't even think of them all but eventually they get married.

I love. Their wedding okay.

Like have you seen that post of a couple that invited their friends to a party they said was a costume party but it was actually their wedding? Yeah that's them. Except the people know it's a wedding, they just can wear whatever the heck the want, the wackier the better. Their wedding is outdoors and full of shenanigans and laughs and I don't quite remember who I had officiate, it might've been Grillby or my friend's sona, but ik Muffet was the maid of honor.

Tho since they shared so many friends it wasn't really a split situation, the wedding parties were all just kind of mixed together. Rowan was barefoot and it was by the edge of a forest so it was very nature-y (Rowan gardens like a LOT I mentioned it like offhand in the last post).

Super super cute.

Now RANDOM TIDBITS

Sans' favourite food is apple pie. Why? Because Rowan smells like apples. (Or it's her scones bc goshDANG they are good).

Rowan's favourite color is the purple of Sans' eyelights.

Sans (with Papyrus' help) builds Rowan a greenhouse with floating pink magic lights and it's the most romantic fricking place ever.

When their relationship is first starting to get serious, they plant a tree together (a Rowan tree aha). (If/when they have kids, the kids would play underneath that tree).

Sans' favourite colour is the red of Rowan's hair (it looks pink in the picture but it's kind of a pinkish red, like a pink lady apple).

Rowan and Papyrus have such a good relationship with each other man. Like when Paps finds out Rowan is drinking **EVERCLEAR** every night he is like absolutely Not you uncultured swine (affectionate) and so he starts up a Wine Night with her. Every Thursday he brings a new wine for them to try while maybe doing a puzzle or just chatting or baking or something. Together they become wine connoisseurs (bro I spelled that right the first time without autocorrect look at me go)

Ok I'm rambling at this point but uh yes <3 you're also free to ask me random questions about these two if you'd like!!!! Thank you so much for the ask Hyper beloved <333333 literally Saph is like almost the whole reason UL Sans is my husband now lol.

[all-you-need-is-paul-mccartney]

The Couple Next Door VI (Roger Taylor x Female!Reader)

Find Part Five Here

A/N: Y’all, I know this was kinda filler and may not make a whole bunch of sense bc I was half asleep while writing this, so I apologize if this is shit. I legit thought I was going somewhere with this, but I think I’ll find some more inspiration after posting this part.

Again, I am so sorry.

Summary: Y/n comes down with a case of Baby Fever; She and Roger talk a little more about their “agreement”.

(Whichever Roger you want, real or Borhap. Whatever flies your kite.)

WARNINGS: Swearing most likely, Slow burn, mentions of sex, etc. I’m sorry if I forgot some.

This chapter will be brought back down to a T, but read at your own risk.

When you woke up from your deep sleep the following morning, you weren't expecting Roger to be by your side.

 And when you turned to glance over your shoulder, you were in no way shocked to find the space next to you empty. 

 "At least he didn't show me the door as soon as he woke up," you mumbled to yourself mid-yawn. You stretched your body out, and relaxed again. You nearly fell back to sleep, but you knew you had to get up. 

 The sun's rays flooded Roger's bedroom through the open window, making the off-white walls appear brighter than they actually were. 

 You were happy to see the clouds from the previous day dispersed and London was finally getting the sunshine it deserved. 

 Eventually, after a long while of you trying to convince yourself to get up, you tossed the blankets to the side to start the day, only to find, through your bleary eyes, that you were missing all of your clothes. 

 You had no problem with this, considering the previous night's circumstances, but you found it strange that you used to hate sleeping naked, though you had the most refreshing sleep in your entire life doing it.

 You didn't dwell on the thought much longer. You climbed out of bed and walked around the room, searching for your pyjamas, or underwear, or something to leave the bedroom in. 

 Then you stopped. 

 "I don't need fucking clothes." Roger was probably at practice. And even if he weren't, it's not like he hadn't seen all of you before, or was never gonna see all of you again. 

 You rolled your eyes at yourself, turned on your heel, and moved towards the bedroom door. 

 You caught sight of yourself in the mirror over Roger's dresser for a split second, and as soon as you reached for the doorknob, you rushed back to the mirror to actually get a good look at yourself. 

 From the jawline down to your hipbones, dark, painful-looking bruises and prominent bite marks were harshly pressed into the skin of your torso. 

 You had hickeys and marks on your neck, collarbone, breasts, navel, you name it.

 You hissed in pain as you tilted your head back and touched a particularly large blue-violet bruise at the side of your throat. Your flesh was tender, but, much like how you reacted when you woke up nude, you were okay with it. 

 You started thinking of the night before, and you squeezed your legs shut, though it was somewhat painful to do. 

You realized just then that the hickeys did, in fact, pass below your torso. 

 You shut your eyes and sighed heavily. 

You didn't even want to bother looking at the damage down there. 

 "As long as my foundation can cover the ones on my neck," you concluded to yourself before finally exiting the bedroom. 

 After showering and making your way downstairs to prepare a cup of coffee, you were pleased to see half a pot was already brewed and ready for you.

 You were very glad to see things between you and Roger hadn't changed a bit.

 After coffee, you decided to do some cleaning. It was your day off, though you really felt like you needed to be productive. 

 You started by doing laundry. This included yours and Roger's bedsheets, the throw blankets on your sofa and living room chair, and all of yours and Roger's dirty clothes. 

 While those were in the washer, you decided to hoover all the carpets and mats, and after that, dusting. 

 You switched the laundry over to the dryer, and started a new wash. You were basically done everything else, and it was only noon. 

 You wondered if there was something to do outside, so to pique your curiosity, out the door you went. 

 You noticed an unoccupied flowerbed by the front window, though gardening wasn't your thing. You continued on.

 Your yard's grass was constantly cut by your landlady's husband, you believed his name was Issac Welch; so you didn't have to worry about that. 

 You stood in your driveway completely defeated, and at a loss for something to do. 

 "Yoohoo, good afternoon, Y/n!" You heard a melodic call from a woman to your left. In your peripherals, you could see Bethany Lester, a young woman, maybe a little older than you, twiddle her fingers at you in excitement. 

 You didn't know whether to panic, or to roll your eyes. You were forced to meet seven more of your neighbours after having dinner with the Garrison's, and she just so happened to be one of them. 

She was kind, but a little too bubbly for your liking.

 Despite your annoyance, you thought it'd be more civil and appropriate to approach her and strike a conversation, rather than ignore her; even though you wanted so badly to just walk back inside and shut the door and not talk to anyone for the rest of the day. 

 You turned your head in Bethany's direction and smiled. "Hello, Beth!" You walked to her place, a few doors down, where she sat in a yellow sundress on the concrete with her little boy, Raymond. 

 He was playing with chalk and writing out letters and numbers, backwards and forwards, and in no exact order. 

“ Say hi to Y/n, sweetie," She requested from her son, who turned his head to you, smiled, and said, "Hello! I can draw a doggie! Wanna see?!" 

 "Sure!" You encouraged. Raymond excitedly got up from his spot and ran to the front door. He returned with a bucket containing many more pieces of chalk, most of which were different colours. 

 "How've you been, recently?" Bethany asked as she looked away from her son as he began drawing his masterpiece. 

"Still getting used to the new place?" 

 "Yeah, it's still a little weird. But kind people like you are helping me and Roger settle in quite nicely." 

Bethany smiled at your comment, and nodded her head. 

 "We like making newcomers feel welcome. We're all like one big happy family here, us neighbours," she laughed airily. 

 You smiled tightly, and laughed along with her. You found yourself slipping into a situation in which plans would probably be made before you ended the conversation, though you definitely did not want to make plans. 

 "Well, that's awfully nice of you." 

 Raymond shoved his hand into the chalk bucket, and violently moved his arm around until he pulled out, to your surprise, the exact colour he was looking for, before going back to drawing his dog. 

 Your brief interruption didn't stop Bethany from talking more, unfortunately. 

 "How are you and Roger, anyways? I always see you two out and about the complex. You two really do make a good couple." 

 You smiled warmly at Bethany's words, your face growing hot as you, once again, remembered last night. 

 "He was really great..." you paused for a second, and realized what you'd just said, eyes wide in horror. 

 "Is. He is really great. He's fine." You took a deep breath. "Sorry. I just... I get all nervous thinking about him."

 "Still in the 'Honeymoon Phase’?" Bethany guessed aloud. 

 "Been together five years. I think we're well past the ‘Honeymoon Phase’."

 Raymond stood to his feet again, and turned to look at you. You smiled at him as he approached you, and pulled on your sleeve. 

"I'm finished my doggie, Y/n!" 

 "Well, what are you waiting for?! Show me!" 

 You let Raymond pull you to the area of concrete he was working on, and he pointed to the round balloon-looking animal proudly. 

 You could tell it was a dog. He added some pretty identifiable features like a long tail, floppy ears, and a comedic tongue.

 You sat down cross legged in front of the drawing, and began complimenting it and going into full depth about how moving the drawing was to you, like how an art critic would speak about another's work.

 Raymond, although he probably had no idea what you were talking about, smiled and gushed and laughed about everything you were saying. 

 You found this utterly adorable, and told him that if you had a bajillion pounds, you would spend every single one of them on one of his drawings if he ever became an artist.

 Raymond thanked you endlessly for your kindness until he picked up another piece of chalk and gave it to you. 

"Can you draw, Y/n?" 

 "Well, I can certainly try, but I don't know if my skill will ever compare to yours!" 

You tried to draw a cat, as badly as you could, and afterwards tried to claim it as "the best doggie I can draw". Raymond just found this hilarious, and his little giggles were contagious. 

You found yourself in a laughing fit, as well. 

 "You're really good with kids, Y/n." 

 "I like to think I am," you answered with a smile as you drew a stick person with spiky hair. 

 "Have you and Roger thought about having kids?" You looked up from your drawing to Bethany. 

"Funny you say that. The Garrisons asked the same thing." She shrugged innocently. 

"You just... seem like good mother material. And he, good father material." You laughed out loud at that. 

You didn't see it for yourself. 

"Thanks, Beth, but I don't know if Roger even wants to have children. We're probably not even cut out for the job." 

 "... You've never spoken to him about it before?" 

 You shook your head. "No, not exactly." 

 Bethany frowned a little. "Cole and I had Raymond only two years after we started dating. I was fresh out of college. Your age, I bet." 

 You looked over at Raymond, who was sticking his tongue out in pure concentration as he tried to draw a perfect circle. You didn't know if you could imagine someone, especially a little kid, sharing your features. 

 "It's worth it, you know," You turned to look at your neighbour again. "Having kids, I mean. Believe me, it's tiring, and lots of hard work, but going to bed knowing you have someone else to love just..."

 Bethany sighed happily. 

"It'll make you feel really good about where you are in life." 

 The conversation you had over at the Garrisons' was more from a paternal point of view, so hearing this from an actual mother roughly your age was actually sort of... helpful. 

 "I... I think I may talk to him. Tonight, actually. About this whole... baby thing." 

"You should. I thought I wanted to wait until Cole and I were married, but things changed and now look at us: Engaged and with a three year old boy who means the world to us." 

 You smiled sadly at that. 

 It hurt because this was something you knew you may have wanted. 

 And it hurt even more because this was something you knew you were never going to have. 

 "Hey, Bird," you heard a familiar, startling voice behind you, and you turned to see, as you'd guessed, Roger, who held a hand out to pull you back to your feet. 

 "You're... You're back from practice early," you commented in a flustered tone, taking his hand anyways and letting him help you up. 

 "We figured we'd cut things short today, go home to our girlies." Your skin rose with goosebumps, and you blushed when Roger cupped your face and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. 

 "Hey, Beth, nice seeing you again," Roger said after pulling away from you, to which you puffed out a sigh of relief, though he slid an arm around your waist all too soon, and you felt your face burning again.

 "It's nice seeing you too, Roger."

 "Hi Roger!" Raymond waved enthusiastically to the drummer, and he returned the greeting by going over, getting down on his knees, and high-fiving the kid. 

 Raymond offered to show Roger the drawing of the dog he did, and you watched as Roger picked up a piece of chalk out of nowhere and started adding to the picture. 

 Your nervous stare melted away and transformed into one of admiration as you watched Roger bond with Raymond. 

 Bethany got to her feet, and approached you, her eyes on her son as he offered blue chalk to Roger, who took it gratefully and drew a flower. 

 ...

 At least you think it was a flower. 

 "Still having doubts about being parent material?" Bethany asked rhetorically, nodding towards the sight before you. 

 You knew all of this was a charade, but... 

 Watching Roger behave like this, with a child, had some sort of effect on you.

 And you knew you needed to talk to Roger about this problem sooner than later, because you really didn't want the whole neighbourhood waiting on you two for engagement news or pregnancy announcements that were clearly not coming. 

_____________________________

 You and Roger eventually returned home after saying good bye to Raymond and Bethany. The both of you stepped into the house, shut the door, and that's when the both of you noticed how quiet the atmosphere was. 

 Roger was looking at you in a shy manner, and your face warmed up as he mumbled a quiet "Hi, Y/n."

 "Hey, Rogie," you breathed back softly. He smiled a little, and toed his shoes off. You followed suit.

 "How uh... how were you this morning?" He asked, frowning a little afterwards. "... I'm sorry I didn't wake you up. I just... I didn't wanna bother you."

 "It's okay," you spoke as gently as he did. You didn't know why you were talking so quietly, but you both just silently agreed that it was necessary at that moment. 

 "I had a good sleep." 

 "Well... that's good. Um... I did too." 

 "Good." 

 "Yeah." 

 Silence took over again, and Roger, leaning against the front door, looked around the hallway to find something other than you to look at. He didn't like staring, but it's all he wanted to do when you were around. 

 You, leaning against the wall adjacent to Roger, was looking around the room with the same intentions. 

 After finding nothing else to really look at, Roger just decided to interact with you. 

 He pushed himself off his spot against the door, and slowly moved towards you. His arms slid around your body in a warm, comforting manner. His embrace was welcoming, and you found yourself giving in to his affection. 

 His lips kindly pecked your forehead like how he did outside, and you smiled a little at the gesture. He kissed your forehead again, and then your cheek. 

 Roger knew if he didn't pull away, he would just end up taking you to bed like he did the night before, but he didn't want you to feel like he was just using you for sex. 

As much as he wanted to keep up with the physical affection, he knew he had to separate from you at some point. 

 You looked up at him, and as he pulled away, it was as if you were gravitating towards him. You wanted his touch to linger for as long as possible, so your body moved with his hands as they fell to his side. 

 You cleared your throat awkwardly when you took notice of how close you'd actually gotten to Roger, and you expanded the space between the both of you by stepping back. 

"... Are you hungry?" 

 Roger only nodded to your question, and you wordlessly moved to the kitchen to find something to make for lunch. 

 Roger followed along, and watched as you started searching the cupboards for something to eat. 

 You picked up and put down many cans, pretending to read them before setting them back on their rightful shelves. Your mind was too preoccupied with the societal expectations this complex had, and that the stress was finally catching up to you. 

 Eventually, after picking up the same can of vegetable soup for the seventh time in a row, Roger made his way over, put the can back for you, and closed the cupboard. 

 He waited silently for you to start talking, and you felt defeated. 

"Roger, they're expecting us to have a baby."

 "I know." 

 "And they want us to get married." 

 "I know." 

 You frowned.

You thought back to how you and Roger behaved with Raymond.

Like you thought then, it was everything you may have actually wanted, but you couldn't have. 

And it hurt the more you repeated that in your head. 

 "... What if this wasn't such a good idea?" You asked Roger, eyes casted down at the clean marble countertops you wish you'd grown so accustomed to the previous couple of weeks living there. 

 "Hey, hey," Roger's hand squeezed your shoulder, and you looked up at him with sad eyes. 

 "You wanted this place, Y/n, and we sacrificed so much to get it for you!" 

 "... But it wasn't my idea to pretend we're a couple just for a house, Roger." 

 The glimmer of hope in Roger's eyes, like a candlewick, burnt out when you said that. 

 Was it really his fault you two were in this situation? 

 You sighed. "We agreed at the very beginning of this arrangement that things weren't going to change. We were going to avoid the neighbours at all costs, and live here for as long as we could as nothing but friends." 

 The more you spoke, the more deflated Roger felt. 

 So that's how you felt about him. 

 Nothing more than a friend. 

 "We can keep this arrangement going, as well as the uh..." you cleared your throat. "You know..." 

You gestured between the both of you and Roger nodded slowly. 

 He was rather relieved that was still on. You had a rockin' body, and you definitely knew how to use it. 

 ".. But I don't know how much longer we will survive here if we don't shut up." 

 "Yeah." Roger tried to interrupt the silence between voices to make things a little less awkward, and suspenseful. "Yeah, no, okay. Okay, I got it. No more talking." He frowned. 

 "You need to stop talking too, y'know," he said quietly, in the kindest tone he could. "You tend to panic and say random shit and that may not be good for us, either." 

 You nodded. "Been trying to work on that. It's hard to avoid these people!" 

 "This morning, Charles was standing outside and immediately started a conversation with me. It was almost like he was waiting for me." 

 You shivered unpleasantly. "That's pretty creepy," you mumbled in a funny voice, all of a sudden. It was one you used in high school all the time when Roger was turned down by a girl; and, believe it or not, happened a lot more often than one would think. 

 "Tell me about it," Roger responded through a giggle, his eyes began to shine like they had been when you'd first walked into the kitchen, ecstatic you decided to lighten the mood with your little side comments. 

You offered him a pleasant smile, and reached up for the cupboard's handle again to properly search for something to cook, but Roger closed it again with the palm of his hand. 

 "... I really hope you know that... everything I said last night... about you, and how pretty you are..." 

 You looked from one blue eye to the other in wait. You would have hated how many times Roger paused during a conversation, but... it made your heart soar. 

 "Everything was true."

 And that is when your heart skipped a beat. 

 "I know, Rogie," was all you said in response, reaching up and kissing his cheek before moving past him to look into the other cupboards for lunch-potential foods.

 Roger was grinning from the innocent peck you gave him, though you were unaware of it because his back was turned to you. 

 But you had a feeling that's just what he was doing. 

 Though you were happy Roger was feeling a little better, you still had this dark feeling hanging over you.

 If you wanted a domestic life with a husband and children, you would have to leave Roger, and this house. 

 But on the other hand, this was your home; Roger was your home. And to stay with him, you would have to give up your dreams of being a caring mother, and a loving wife. 

 You leaned your head sadly against the cupboard door. 

 You silently wondered if there even was a way you could have everything you wanted.

_____________________________

A/A/N: After editing a little, I don’t think this part is horrible, but it’s not the best. Hopefully the next chapter will be good enough for us to forget about this one.

PERMENANT TAG LIST

@culturefiendtrashqueen​

FIC TAGLIST

@luvborhap

@amy-brooklyn99

@scarsout

@kimmietea​

@ohtheseboysilove​

@demo-wise​

@suavishowell​

@bohemianahoy​

@pippin248​

@maisielou

@hardyshoe​

[daydreamindollie]

𝟘𝟞.𝟘𝟞.𝟚𝟘 ⏤𝙠𝙤𝙛𝙞 + 𝙥𝙬𝙩𝙪𝙝 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬

Alright, so...I'm going to be leaving home to survive out in the big world later this year and will be entering university as an undergraduate for Biomedical Sciences.

I'm also not going to be openly looking for work seeing as my parents want me to focus on my studies and, to be honest, I feel the same way. But one thing's for sure, I want to continue writing even though my brother, who is already in university, told me I won't be able to write or, at least, plan chapters/oneshots as much as I'm able to now.

Umm...this is really uncomfortable for me to say because I really do love writing and going through the planning process of it all so I don't want it to seem as if I'll be doing it for money. However, I still want to be able to fund myself in some way that I can avoid being anxious or stressed about my funds as much as possible in the future whilst I'm in further education.

The main reason I'm bringing this up now is because this is the only time I'm feeling confident enough to bring the topic up of me making a kofi account. If I don't do it now then maybe I never will. Either that or I may already be stressing out from my debt due to university loans.

If any of you are willing to buy me a kofi, here's the page I just created but please bear in mind that you are not obligated to buy me anything in any way if you are not in a position to, also if you're not 16-18, please ask permission from your parents or don't at all! - really! You don't have to! Only if you're able to and want to.

✚           ✚           ✚

Anyway! Moving on! I have a little preview for PWTUH chapter 12 for you and a little peep into the written plans I've written up already :3

Just quickly! Please note that the preview may or may not make it into the final, revised, and edited chapter 12 that I will be posting officially for pwtuh as it will be edited and possibly changed by then. Still! Please enjoy it for what it is!

↓ also, know that these are just random, unedited scenes and may be shuffled up in the final, edited version of chapter 12 ↓

Unexpectedly, news of the war didn't daunt the people of Seoul. Even in your village, small and suburban, had little worries over the matter. In one ear, they were fully aware of their king's illness, and in the other, they were the victims of propaganda. Word of the victory at --- seemed to have blinded them to the sovereign's frail state, a condition that leaves him incapable of leading the kingdom on the backs of the first and second commanders' achievements and potential losses on the battlefield. That would be the only thing he would have been able to do had his illness not taken a turn for the worse. If his highness was in a better state of health, he would have bravely taken himself to the field and fought alongside the people of his country. Alas, the world forbid him from doing so in the cruelest way possible. You can still remember the breakable appearance of his majesty when embellishing his quarters with the most brilliant of blossoms and it made your heart thump heavily with trepidation.

If only the prince returns, then you're certain you'd be able to feel an ounce of reassurance.

"Is everything alright, (Y/N)?" Jeong whispers from beside you, his close proximity, if it were any other day, would have flustered you beyond belief but it had no such effect when your mind was racing the way it was.

"I...I'm just..-worried..." you hummed fretfully, leaning into his chest as you stared on at Taehyung and Jimin chattering the day away and neglecting their duties at the assembly station of your shop. You dare not break their lighthearted banter in spite of the blatant negligence of their tasks, seeing as this could one day be a rare sight for you.

"About...?"

With a sigh, you close your eyes for several beats of silence before you tilt your head to face Jeong and voice your worries, "well...uhh," despite your prodigious anxiety, the heat of embarrassment rushing to your cheeks was overwhelming and you had to push yourself away from the male who you had been so so close - once again - to touching lips with. For a moment, you regain your senses and calm your reddened cheeks, however, the amount of time it had taken you to achieve that, Jeong was, once again, staring off into space.

Eyes distant and mind unreachable, your eyes furrow in additional concern. He's been like this since this morning. Was he just as worried as you were about the war? You smile softly at his potential sentiment, at the very least, you're glad that he isn't one to be indifferent to pressing matters. Certainly, you needed a man like that around Taehyung.

A man. Your cheeks blossom a soft pink once more. Jeong has certainly grown into himself as a man over the months that you've been by his side, there was no denying that. You're eager to see if he sees you as a woman as well.

✚           ✚           ✚

Wanting nothing more than to rid yourself of the horrible, pressing feeling that had suddenly swept over you, you make the woeful excuse of visiting Jin at the bakery in order to purchase something for lunch. If you stay a moment longer, you're deathly afraid of sinking deeper into that frightful feeling.

"But…" Jungkook pauses to ensure his reasoning was true, "you already prepared lunch for us home at home,"

You're quick to correct your grave mistake, "I mean, for desert after lunch…yeah!" you bite your inner cheek at the thought of the adverse effects of the sugar in Jin's baked goodies, "I’ve been craving something sweet and I think" unconsciously, in spite of your distaste for sugar, your gaze wanders outside to where the boys are pretending to be knights. The way they valiantly swing their floral swords was so admirable and charming, you had to hold back a giggle, "…I think the boys will want something to cheer them up because of all this conflict - they’re brilliant liars but I can see right through them," with a sigh and smiles directed at Jeong you make your request, "please look after the shop while I’m gone,"

"You’re right," he smiles and nods, "I’ll do that,"

For a moment, you marvel at his sweet smile before snapping out of it - had his smile always been that captivating? - and bashfully heading out, "Boys, I’ll be going out for a bit! I’ll be back as soon as I can okay?"

"Okay, Noona! Take care!" Taehyung and Jimin raise their hands to wave you goodbye before they quickly make a split-second demand "Hugs and Kisses" their toothy, adorable grins are too much for you to resist so you happily oblige with a grin of your own, unaware of the smiling male staring on from within your flower shop. His smile, however, slowly but quickly falls into a frown as his head fills with overriding thoughts once more.

From the precious smiles and pure scene he had witnessed, Jungkook is now faced with even more dread, knowing that he needs to return in order to protect you fully and take charge of the operations. He knows that growth should never be rushed - another lesson taught to him by his father - yet he wishes that he could return to being prince Jungkook as soon as possible even if it meant leaving you. He needs to protect your smile and the dearest memories he was able to make here thanks to you and Taehyung.

He has to. He needs to. No matter the cost.

✚           ✚            ✚

here is a pic of my written plans, you may get a little hint of what’s to come if you squint annnddddd...I also drew fanart! (it’s from one of the last scene in chapter 12 - wink wonk ;3) I am not an artist! and I used some pre-existing art to trace over, I made some changes but I’ll still credit the artists when I find the artworks again bc I. FORGOT. TO. SAVE. THEM!!!!

Anyway, I’ll be unblurring unpixelating the art in the official post of pwtuh chapter 12 as well as crediting the artists + putting in the artwork beside the little manga strip I made using them. HAVE FUNNNN! 

[antiquecompass]

Untamed Fest Day 2: Dynamic

Summary: Wherein Sizhui has a best friend and a crush and parents who care, perhaps, maybe, just a little too much.

(So, like I said yesterday these fics are going to bounce around the ages of 11-18 for the Juniors. In this one Sizhui is 14. It’s also pre-Sizhui/Jingyi. Don’t worry, nothing will get above Teen in this entire series, and only then bc I, and therefore characters I write, curse like a sailor.)

When it came to personality, at least inside the confines of Lan Academy, Lan Sizhui had taken after his Papa. He projected an aura of quiet leadership and confidence; fair in judgment, but willing to mete out and take punishments. Even at fourteen, he was already one of the leaders on the Student Council; the youngest Vice President in a decade. Sizhui had entered the Academy at the age of eleven, determined to prove any doubters wrong, and had done so quietly and efficiently, just like a Lan should.

Lan Jingyi did not lead quietly, though he was still a leader among their class. Lan Jingyi had the type of dynamic personality that drew others in, fluttering around him like butterflies, but he ignored most of them to keep the company of his two best friends. He was loud, opinionated, and always willing to make his feelings known. He wasn’t the way many thought a Lan should be, but he was very much a Lan, through and through, just willing to openly show the more stubborn parts of their personality that people forgot they had under their veneer of genteel manners.

It was often said that together, Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi truly made the perfect Lan. A balance of the best, and worst, traits. Sizhui was calm and quiet, Jingyi excitable and loud, but where Sizhui often had self-doubts, Jingyi had enough pride and confidence for the both of them. They’d grown up as a pair, rarely apart, settling into their roles and friendship with an enviable and familiar ease. So many years together, being so known to each other, they were a hard pair to defeat in anything--be it something as simple as a classroom debate or something more serious as an actual fight to defend someone’s honor. Since they were always found in each other’s company, they’d become the pride of the family and the Academy. 

Sizhui was proud to be the one-half of such a whole.

Sizhui also had a problem.

He knew he had a crush on Jingyi. It’d been there for years. Apparently he’d told his fathers at the ripe old age of five that he was going to marry Jingyi one day, and while it’d been a story retold often at family gatherings for laughs...well, Sizhui may not have truly meant it at five, but at fourteen, it was definitely a future he wanted.

And somehow he knew that wasn’t normal.

He knew it was normal, for him, to have a crush. His fathers had taken great pains to inform him about different sexual and gender identities and forms of attraction and the like as soon as he showed the first hints of a boyhood crush. So he knew a crush, especially on attractive, kind, funny, caring Jingyi wasn’t unusual. They’d been best friends since they were four. There was no one else his age Sizhui trusted more than Jingyi.

But Sizhui was worried that he’d passed the crush stage long ago and had been firmly planted in something that he was hesitant to call love, because he was only fourteen, but knew that clearly picturing a future with Jingyi that saw them married and raising some kids of their own as the most natural course of their relationship probably meant something significant. 

He knew most Lans fell hard, fell once, and fell in love for life. But Sizhui was a Lan in name only. 

Perhaps Nurture had won this round versus Nature.

He still needed to talk to someone before he embarrassingly blurted out his love for Jingyi straight to his face, probably when the other was devouring a basket of chicken wings. That would be Sizhui’s luck. He’d probably make poor Jingyi choke. And then he’d have to give him the Heimlich or something, and Jingyi would probably spit out his chicken bone right into Great Uncle Lan’s face, and then Sizhui would have to go find a grave plot to bury himself in after he died from the collective embarrrassment. 

So, yeah, he needed to talk to someone.

**********

Dad’s office occupied the single turret tower of their massive house. He jokingly called it his gargoyle hoard, and often sang songs from Disney’s take on The Hunchback of Notre Dame as he climbed the stairs to the tower. Or he called for Papa with, ‘Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, let down your hair’ which never made much sense to Sizhui since Dad was the one in the tower, but they all indulged Dad’s whims and humor.

From the outside the tower looked imposing in its stone and dark shingled roof, but inside it was full of vibrant color. All of his books were here, crammed on an overstuffed bookshelf, containing every edition of every book he’d published in every language available, a handmade wooden sign hung above it declaring, A Leap of Faith. Art of his various characters hung on the wall, some official that he’d commissioned, some of his own making, but most sent by fans from around the world in the barrels of mail that came to the house each week. 

It was a cluttered mess of genius that perfectly encapsulated his dad. 

Today Dad was behind his desk, hair pulled up into a messy bun, with fingers covered in paint as he worked out some new character designs for his latest story. He was slowly moving from elementary reading level books to Young Adult, but his new series would straddle that border of Young Adult and New Adult--that vague spot where the characters weren’t young teens, nor in their mid-20s, but still had their own stories to tell. It was a story he’d been wanting to tell for years, based largely on his own life, but set in a mystical and magical modern world. 

His papa was unceremoniously sprawled out on the battered couch that had followed his fathers from their apartment in Cambridge, to their home in Boston, to this massive estate in the Berkshires. Sizhui smiled to himself as he pictured his classmates faces if they ever saw the great Hanguang-Jun with such imperfect posture, wearing only worn sweatpants and a t-shirt older than Sizhui. His hair was also pulled up into a messy bun, a red pen clutched in his teeth as he read through the most recent edit of Dad’s new book. 

Sizhui smiled as he watched them. His parents had always been so full of warmth and love--for him, for each other, for all their family--that Sizhui knew he’d been spoiled in care and affection. And he wanted that, the connection that they had. He knew it wasn’t effortless, every relationship took work and dedication and effort, but they made it seem so very easy. 

“Sizhui, why do you linger?” Papa asked, eyes barely leaving the bound pages in his hands.

“Because he is a good boy who waits until he’s invited in, even though he knows he never has to,” Dad said, waving him inside. “What can we do for our favorite son?”

“Your only son, since you never did give me that sibling I asked for,” Sizhui teased.

Dad smirked. “Not for lack of trying,” he said.

“Wei Ying,” Papa admonished from the couch.

Dad patted the chair next to his desk. “Come. Sit. Speak. Bond. I feel like we never talk anymore.”

“We had an entire family conference just last night,” Sizhui said as he took his seat.

Dad frowned. “But that was school stuff. I want gossip, Sizhui. I want the deets. I want the 411. Give me the dirt. Spill the tea. Or the beans.” He looked to Papa. “What else do the kids say these days?”

“None of what just passed your lips,” Papa said. 

Dad frowned. “So mean, Lan Zhan.” His pout became more pronounced as he turned to Sizhui. “See how he treats me? Betrayed by my very own heart and soul.”

Sizhui shook his head at them, but grasped on to the opening. “So, about that.”

He didn’t know what he expected to happen but Dad actually gasped and Papa sat up so fast he nearly tumbled off the couch.

“Is it happening?” Dad asked. “Did it happen?” He pulled out his leather planner, full of post-it notes, napkins, and various other bits and bobs. “I had you two down for at least another month from now, but your Papa insisted it would be before Halloween.”

“What?” Sizhui asked as he looked back and forth between his parents.

“Sizhui,” Papa said as he walked over to the desk. “Did Lan Jingyi not ask you out on a date?”

“What?” Sizhui asked. He felt the blood rush to his face, in his ears, blocking out all other sounds. “What?” he repeated.

Dad grimaced. “Whoops. I think we broke him. Bad parenting penalty.”

“No--I---what?” Sizhui asked again. “I just wanted to know how you, like, know if you like someone more than a friend and you’re running a bet on my dating life? With my best friend?”

“To be fair, your Uncle Huaisang runs a bet on everything,” Dad said.

“Wei Ying,” Papa cautioned. 

“Fine,” Dad said, pushing his planner to the side. He sat forward and grasped Sizhui hands. “Sizhui, if you’re asking us this question, do you not already know the answer?”

Sizhui nodded. “But, how can you be sure?”

“In your own heart, what do you feel?” Papa asked. He knelt to meet Sizhui’s downcast gaze. “You don’t have to tell us, or even him, but you’ll feel so much more relief if you acknowledge your own truth.” His smile was small as he patted Sizhui’s knees. “It was the only way I was able to manage all the years when your dad still didn’t know his own feelings.”

“It must’ve been torture,” Sizhui said.

Papa smiled and met Dad’s eyes. “It wasn’t so bad, in the end. But you and Jingyi are different. You don’t have the restrictions on you that Uncle put on me and your Uncle Xichen. You don’t have the physical distance between you. If you want to, you can start dating now. If you feel like you’re ready.”

Sizhui tried not to hunch his shoulders and make himself smaller, but the uncertainty ate at him. “But what if I ruin our friendship? I don’t think--I couldn’t take him hating me.”

“Oh, Sizhui,” Dad said as he clambered over the desk and hugged him. “Jingyi could never hate you. I know you know him better than that, but if you want more, well…”

“Leap of faith?” Sizhui asked.

Both his fathers nodded. 

If the Lan-Wei family had its own motto, Leap of Faith, would be it. If they had their own crest, it would be a rabbit surrounded by the words, Daring, Determination, Devotion, and Honesty. His fathers had raised him with those values, and Sizhui did his best to own them, and now, he knew, he could either rely on them or try to patiently wait until Jingyi came to him. 

If at school the dynamic of Sizhui and Jingyi made the perfect Lan, at home, Sizhui was very much the best, and worst, of both of his fathers. 

“Oh, I know that look,” Dad said as he kissed the top of Sizhui’s head. “Poor Jingyi isn’t going to know what hit him.” Sizhui could feel his wide grin against his hair. “It’s going to be awesome.”

Part 2

[bluerene]

RobStar Week #1 - Wayne Manor

Hello friends. Please allow me to quickly and suddenly resurrect my online presence with a week of robstar goodness, followed by an onslaught of miscellaneous content + a loooot of fics that should’ve been published ages ago. The bitch is back! She is also about to board a plane and has not proofread this one bit, so please excuse the ugly errors.

As always, feedback is loved. 

Enjoy!

Wayne Manor (ft. implied BatCat justice bc it’s what we deserved)

It had been twenty-two years in the making, but finally, the day had come. 

Dick tugged at the collar of his suit and huffed, tilting his wrist upwards to check his watch. Two hours till takeoff.

That was how he had been thinking of it anyway. The whole event felt more like a formality than anything else; marriage was just the legal definition of what they already had. Often enough, he forgot they weren’t husband and wife. 

He glanced around the room and smiled; Alfred had really outdone himself this time. Dick brushed his fingers along the row of lilies that lined the entryway, admiring the splash of pink roses that stood out amid the white flora. Their saccharine smell lingered in the air as he walked on through the room, studying the impressive set-up.

They had chosen to host their wedding at Wayne Manor, which was gorgeous and private and comfortable. With graceful vaults and arches that curved into a smooth dome and made the polished marble floors gleam in the glittering sunlight, the ballroom was easily the most elegant waste of space Dick had known in his house. And, it was finally being put to use the way it deserved. 

Alfred had thrown himself into preparations the moment he’d heard. Even in his old age, he was a force to be reckoned with- he had florists ready, caterers selected, a decorating committee arranged, and invitations delivered within days. Thirty-six hours before the ceremony, he had marched in with an army of specialists and had set to work on the hall. 

It had been divided up in such a way that the service, reception, and dinner would all be hosted within a few feet of each other. From the thick maple doors of the entryway, she would walk in, fiercely beautiful as ever. She would make her way past the rows of chairs towards a trellis made of fine gold, twisted with flowers and leaves. Posts would be in line with its sides, thin gossamer curtains tied with ribbons from wall to wall, effectively cutting off access to the space behind. After they kissed, the entire party would pass through the curtains and into the garden, where they could immediately enjoy the reception, while the bride and groom snuck off to change into clothes better suited to dinner and dancing. At the end of the night, they would bid their goodbyes and steal away into the night as they had for the past twenty-two years. 

Dick had envisioned this moment for half of his life in different ways. The bride used to change, often switching between the various women in his life at the time- but as time went on, the vision became clearer and more obvious. It could only be her. She’d always been there, a shadow flitting in and out of the window, playing with fire fearlessly. 

Something probed his arm gently, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Does it remind you of ours?”

He smiled and drew her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her palm.

“In the best ways. Al really pulled this one together brilliantly.”

His wife sighed, intertwining their fingers.

“It is worth it. Their happy ending is long overdue.”

“Yeah,” Dick agreed, “it’s about time. How’s the bride looking?”

“Like a million of the dollar bills,” Kori replied cheekily, “truly, you may never have eyes for me again.”

He laughed and cupped her cheek, taking in her appearance. His eyes lingered on her full lips, the glimmer of happiness in her electric eyes, the slight pink flush that ran from her cheeks to her collarbone. Her hair had been pinned up into an intricate bun, stray curls framing her face. She was a vision in the soft gold gown Selina had asked her to wear as one of the bridesmaids. 

“I don’t think I could ever have eyes for anyone other than you, beautiful.” 

Kori beamed and slid her free hand to his chest, gripping the lapel of his suit jacket to pull him into a sweet kiss. Her mouth moving achingly slow against his while he fought to remind himself they were in an unconcealed, public space. 

She pulled away and giggled, smoothing out the fabric she had crumpled.

“Your restraint is impressive, my love.”

“It had better be,” a deep voice resounded from behind them, “as I recall, you two are already married, so I doubt there’s much more you can do at a wedding that you haven’t done before.”

“You’d be surprised, Dad,” Dick said cheerfully, “but I’m not looking to upstage your night, so let’s leave it at that.”

“Hello k’norfka Bruce,” Kori said eagerly, hurrying to press a kiss to her father-in-law’s cheek, “you look very handsome! How are you feeling?”

Bruce patted her shoulder affectionately, a rare smile lighting up his face, “like I should have done years ago. You look lovely, by the way.”

“I was just telling Richard to reserve judgment until after the bride has arrived. Selina is truly...indescribably wonderful.”

Dick didn’t miss the dreamy look that crossed his father’s face.  

“And the flower girl? As radiant as her mother?”

He didn’t miss the way his wife blushed at those words either.

“Provided she does not ruin her dress again, Mar’i will look perfect,” she replied with a sigh, glancing at the doors, “in fact, I believe it is time for me to check in on her. Please excuse me, k’norfka Bruce. Richard, I will see you before the ceremony.”

Bruce shoved his hands into his pockets and watched her leave.

“How are you feeling, Dick?”

 “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? It’s your wedding, after all.”

“It’s about time, don’t you think,” Bruce replied with a grin, “I made her wait twenty-two years.”

“I’m still amazed by that, y’know. Star and I tied the knot...what, six years after we started dating. I can’t believe it took you guys this long.”

“Well we’re here now, aren’t we?”

“Only because Selina was boss enough to propose.”

“I would’ve proposed when the time came!” Bruce said indignantly. 

Dick snorted, “Yeah, in 2068, when you’re too close to death to fear commitment.” He glanced around the room, gaze falling on a nearby satin pillow, “Is the ring-bearer going to show up today?”

“He’ll pitch a fit, but yes. The kid’s a fan of Selina. Plus, he misses you.”

“The devil? Inconceivable,” Dick muttered. 

Bruce cuffed him on the back of the head, “He’s your brother.”

“So is Tim, but you don’t see him slicing me up in ‘training sessions’. Speaking of, where is he? Why am I the only one here?”

“Jason plans on popping in during the reception. Tim’s bringing Stephanie so he’s at her house. Alfred is with Damian.”

“That’s not what I mean. Why am I the only one here, now?”

Bruce shifted uncomfortably, and rubbed the back of his neck, ”You’re the first, you know. I’ve always held the others up to you, even when I shouldn’t have. You were a brat, but you were also my first son. I wanted you to be here for that.”

“Dad.”

“No jokes, I’m serious.”

“I am too.”

“Well...good.” 

“Yeah.”

They stood in silence, eyes fixed on the rows of chairs and the trellis directly ahead. 

“So…”

“Hit the bar? A couple of pre-wedding drinks?” 

“Is that what Garfield and Victor did with you?”

Dick laughed as he lead his father out of the hall, “Are you kidding? They wouldn’t let me near the mini-bar. Said they would beat my ass if I was tipsy at my own wedding.”

“Clearly you’re not concerned about me.”

“Nah. First, Silena is more than capable of sobering you up with a single glance. Second, you’re Batman.”

“Ha ha, very funny. I’m pretty sure Kori would do the same if you’d stumbled down the aisle. That woman can pack a punch.”

“Do I detect a hint of fatherly pride there, Dad? Are you finally coming around to your daughter-in-law?”

Bruce rolled his eyes, nudging Dick with his elbow.

“Knock it off. You know I respect her and care about her. She’s a fine young woman. I couldn’t have chosen better for you if I’d tried.”

Dick softened, “I was kidding, but...thanks. It means a lot to hear you say that. She loves and admires you so much. And she tells Mar’i stories about you all the time. She won’t let me ruin your image even a little.”

“She gave you the home you needed, didn’t she?” Bruce said quietly, “Your relationship with me and this house and everything you had turned away from was different after she came into your life.”

“Yeah,” Dick agreed, clapping his hand on his father’s shoulder, “my home is wherever she goes. And she always seems to know what I need when I need it. That’s why she cares so much about this place.”

“I’m sorry for all the shit I gave you in the beginning, you know. I think it pushed you to be strong and decisive, but I am sorry if it hurt you.”

“Not gonna lie, I was pretty pissed for a while. But Star always understood. Always gave you the benefit of the doubt.”

“She’s a special girl.”

And Dick could have gone on about how perfect his wife was - how incomparably sweet and passionate and fiery she could be. How strongly she fought for their family. How lovingly she accepted everyone into her heart.

But he simply nodded and raised his watch to check the time, grinning at his father.

“How about that drink, old man? Push away some of those pre-wedding jitters?”

Bruce’s lips twitched in amusement, but Dick still caught the happy creases around his eyes.

“As long as Alfred doesn’t catch us, I’m game.”

“Afraid he’ll kick your ass?” Dick teased, swiftly dodging a well-aimed slap upside the head.

“It’s my wedding day, son. I get a free pass. I’m looking out for you.”

“Yeah, Dad,” Dick chuckled, “you always do.”

[beesmygod]

this is what riverdale is about (part 6)

part 1

part 2

part 3

part 4

part 5

and now...we come to the end of our journey...the final 4 episodes of the season. who killed jason blossom? you forgot that’s what we were doing, huh. you  were way too distracted by sex archie and the jughead/betty relationship (called ‘bughead’ in universe). 

i have a friend who has been watching riverdale because i have basically tricked him into doing so and frankly, what i am typing here was and is only the surface of this show’s nonsense. as he watched episodes, he reminds me of all the completely bananas shit that this show throws at you literally every second it is on screen and honestly its a relief to know that, as much as i can try to just give you some basic facts, watching the show itself is still a totally different transcendent experience. its really the only show of its kind; shamelessly stupid but unaware of it while openly delighting in all the silliest cliches presented as straight faced as possible. if these write up do anything for you at all, please, please. watch the show. you will be shocked at how much more there is to discover.

images are from the riverdale wiki

---

SEASON 1 (PART 4): 

the lost weekend: this is the one with a very special guest star in it: molly ringwald as archie’s mom! she and fred (luke perry) have been separated for some amount of time for an unknown reason. yay she’s so cute! i love her. oh uh, also they’re getting a divorce. the papers are going through. archie gets the bad news in the middle of a gaming sesh with jughead.

meanwhile, veronica meets with her dad’s lawyer (whose name is paul sowerberry?? he never shows up again despite his unbelievably silly name) and tells him she’s not giving him a good statement as to her father’s character to help him get a lesser sentence. “fuck you dad!” is the general sentiment before she stomps out to go to school.

oh man there’s a weird aspect of this show that i have neglected to mention. this isn’t something i’ve ever experienced in school so it was totally foreign and weird to me but the students have their own lounge that they mingle and talk in...at...some point during the school day?? jughead’s opening monologue of this episode makes great pains to talk about how every moment of their lives are scheduled from 8am to 3pm but there’s apparently plenty of sittin’ time where they can just laze about this random room talking about crimes they have or are going to commit. a great deal of talking happens in this room when usually you’d have to like, sneak a convo while getting shit out of your locker between classes. i dunno, it’s weird. this is where archie tells veronica about clifford blossom sending her dad to jail so he can jack the land everyone is fighting over.

archie and betty make plans to celebrate jugheads birthday by taking him to the movies, which i feel like is in poor taste given his movie house was just destroyed but whatever. with betty coming along it’ll be just like the three muskateers! betty replies “AcTuAlLy ThErE wErE fOuR mUsKeTeErS” and somehow he doesn’t beat her to death with his bookbag right there and then. betty then doubles down on the bad words flowing out of her mouth and proposes they hold a surprise party for jughead since, according to his dad, he’s never had one. i have no idea what would compel her to think he would want this. even i know he doesn’t want this and i only know him through a tv screen. on top of this she goes out of her way to invite his deadbeat alcoholic dad multiple times. i thought she was supposed to be the smart, observant nancy drew type but like...what the fuck betty. jughead does, in fact, get pretty pissed at archie just for telling his girlfriend that he even has a birthday. presumably instead of telling him he emerged fully formed from the leader of the black parade’s forehead.

after finding out from some files that her dad was receiving money monthly from clifford blossom for some unspecified reason before the arrest, veronica challenges cheryl to a dance off and wins. unfortunately, veronica cant come forward with what she knows because it would make it look like her dad put a hit out on jason in retaliation. dance off to relieve the pain.

jughead fucking hates his party and makes sure everyone knows it. this is something NORMAL people do and he is NOT normal!!! he leaves the party in a huff when cheryl shows up to get her dance off revenge by ruining the party by inviting the whole school. this is the episode where he does his famous “im a weirdo, i have a hat” speech, which is deliciously dumb. they get in a fight, while jughead’s dad talks to kevin’s boyfriend (who you will remember is a member of his gang he assigned to keep tabs on the progress of the teens looking into the whole land plot mess) while betty’s mom secretly listens in?!

cheryl activates chaos mode and locks everyone in the house so they can play a game called “secrets and sins” which is really just an excuse for her to ask everyone horrible questions to make them feel bad. veronica accuses cheryl of fucking her brother, dilton doiley tells everyone about grundy’s statutory rape of archie andrews and chuck tells everyone about dark mode betty drugging him for an impromptu bdsm session which causes jughead to go apeshit and try to throw a weak little baby punch. jughead’s dad, as the only adult who for some reason let all this happen, finally throws everyone out and tells them to go home.

archie and veronica sleep together, by which i mean, next to each other in the same room. veronica testifies on her father’s behalf and discloses to betty the link between jugheads dad and the serpents and her dad’s land plot dreams. molly ringwald appears for 20 seconds.

INHALES. OKAY.

to riverdale and back again: its homecoming babey! archie’s very supportive mother has a nice talk with him. :) veronica founds out that her dad only has to serve “a few more months” in prison for his various white collar crimes, further proof that riverdale takes place in america. jughead and his dad have a nice normal breakfast while fp sweats and asks him “hey uh, how come uh you’re writing about the uhhhh murder and investigating it and stuff” like a normal dad would. archie and veronica tentatively agree to start going out. 

penelopy blossom brings polly (betty’s pregnant sister, remember her? i didn’t) a strawberry milkshake in the most ominous way possible. veronica plans to sneakily find out if jughead’s dad is helping her own and for what purpose, ultimately. jughead accepts and invite to betty’s house for dinner, not knowing her mom is going to grill the shit out of him and his dad over the whole kid murder thing.

polly finds the ring jason proposed to her with back in penelope’s room while snooping, and has no idea how it wound up back in the hands of his mother. according to penelope, jason threw it in their face when he renounced his lineage, then gives her another milkshake.

the cooper family event is disrupted when betty, wise to her mother’s horseshit, invites her estranged dad to dinner too. all hell breaks loose when the subject of homecoming comes up and fp reveals that while alice and hal were crowned homecoming king and queen, they got in a knockout, drag-out fight backstage. alice flips out before he can reveal what it was about and betty and jughead flee for the dance. meanwhile archie and veronica try, and fail, to find something incriminating in fp’s trailer.

cheryl discovers the milkshakes are DRUGGED and polly is going to sleep through homecoming. she informs her parents that she has disposed of the ring (evidence) and they dont have to worry about it anymore. you can see where this is going.

jughead’s dad drops a bomb on him right before homecoming that they’re going to move to toledo to meet up with jughead’s mom and baby sister. jughead hates this bc he just got used to betty and he wants to write his murder book.

archie and veronica sing a truly terrible cover of “kids in america” that has to be seen to be believed.

meanwhile, sherrif keller tears up fp’s house with a search warrant and finds the gun that was used to kill jason blossom. WHAAAA??? BUT ARCHIE AND VERONICA JUST SEARCHED IT??? how could this happen.....jughead finds out about the web of deception weaved by the friends and tells them all to fuck off so he can go to toledo with his family. jughead literally turns around and is informed that his dad was just arrested for murder. his life is so hilariously bad.

the sheriff sucks so bad at his job because he tells his gay son everything who then spills the beans to archie and co (sans jughead) who learn that fp is being framed, because they already tossed the place before.

cheryl has the ring. at this point none of these things mean anything.

i cant believe i still have two more of these. i’m going to have to split this post after this one.

anatomy of a murder: as it turns out, archie discovers, information you discover during a breaking and entering won’t hold up in court. oops. meanwhile fp inexplicably confesses to kidnapping jason after his fake drowning at sweetwater river so he could use him as ransom after discovering he heir to all that sweet maple syrup money. according to fp, jason nearly escaped so they cut their losses and blasted a hole in him. he also confesses to torching the car and stealing the sheriff's files (which we, the audience, know hal cooper did, not fp). well. that’s that, i guess.

betty’s dad comes back to the family home to destroy the murderboard evidence all like “whoo hoo! fp took a bullet for me!” hal’s concern and his reason for stealing the files in the first place, as it turns out, was because the feud between the coopers and the blossoms is more complicated than we thought. the coopers WERE blossoms, until grand-pappy was murdered, so they packed their shit and left with a new name. so that makes polly and jason related. cool!

fp apparently used his his last phone call to call kevin’s boyfriend who, after some pressing by the gang, admits that while he didnt see fp pull the trigger, he did help him put jason’s body in a freezer. this tip leads them to the corpse of a serpent who had a sack of money in a monogrammed dufflebag with the initials “h.l.” (hiram lodge). this is a comically dumb move for a crime boss to make. it is shockingly stupid.

joaquin tells kevin about a secret stash he and fp set up before he bounces from town forever because riverdale sucks. in the stash is jason’s jacket. everyone puzzles over what it means until betty, noted brain genius checks the pockets. in it they find a usb drive.

they sit down and watch the usb and react like they’re watching a sad documentary and not a snuff film. betty calls CHERYL OF ALL PEOPLE and tells her what they just saw on the usb. cheryl, queen of chaos, confronts her dad and tells him that everyone knows what he did.

it turns out the video depicts jason tied up in the basement of the whyte wyrm, there the dead serpent watches over him. clifford blossom walks in and blows a hole in his kid. fp confessed to protect jughead, who was threatened by cliff as the heat poured on.

clifford dies surrounded by his greatest love, maple syrup, by hanging himself in the syrup barn. lol

the sweet hereafter: how the fuck is there another episode of this? they solved the murder, what else could there possibly be to do. wtf. anyway.

the cops find hella drugs in the maple barn after clifford’s death. the assumed story is that jason learned about his dad’s heroin smuggling business and threatened to tell the cops on his dad which lead to his abduction, and eventual death. i guess the polly thing is in here too somehow. not important i guess. the lodges prepare for hiram’s arrival. betty and archie are going to be honored by the mayor for cracking the case at the 75th annual jubilee (wtf). hermoine attempts to buy fred out of the project now that the cops are cracking down on the serpents and making them the face of the construction company is now a very bad look.

betty tries to write an article for the town paper about fp being innocent but her parents wont publish it, citing it as a conflict of interest given she’s smooching the subject’s son. jughead FINALLY JUT NOW gets a social worker who realizes that fred has a dui and is not fit to care for a kid. he has to transfer to a new school district...SOUTHSIDE HIGH SCHOOL!!!

cheryl apologizes for throwing hands at jughead in a previous ep and gives him her iconic spider brooch. i am only bringing this up because she says, specifically, that selling it will net him a good amount of hamburgers and “s t-shirts” for years. why is she the only one who notices he only wears one kind of shirt. betty’s article getting published in the school paper leads to the above retaliation.

veronica’s mom honest to god asks her to sexually manipulate archie into convincing his dad to sell the project to her.

betty’s mom, after a confrontation, tells betty abt the fight she and her dad had on homecoming night when they were high schoolers. turns out...alice was pregnant. she gave the baby up for adoption after she went to the sisters of quiet mercy, like she did with polly, even though hal wanted an abortion. betty immediately tells all her friends this shit.

jughead transfers to the new high and flourishes. turns out they’re all baby gangsters there so they look at him and his dad as kings to be admired. when the archie group heads off to go rescue him, it turns out they dont need to do anything. but now that theyre all conveniently together, veronica gets a txt from cheryl saying she’s going to go be with jason....

they rush to the river where cheryl is having her ophelia meltdown in his stupid little river boat dress where she punches through the ice until she falls through. theres no way to describe how silly this scene is unless you see it so i won’t try but its so melodramatic and cheesy that youre going to be amazed that it got through the writing team at all. archie saves her by punching through the ice the other way. from under the ice. you will soon find, that all of archie’s solutions are to punch things.

betty does a speech at the jubilee that convinces fred not to sell. a nice ending for him.

meanwhile cheryl burns her fucking house down for a lark. just for the drama of it all. 

the same night, jughead and betty start to fuck, as do veronica and archie. not int he same room, like totally separately. but jughead is interrupted by the serpents and a dog named hotdog, who give him a jacket of his own so he can join the team. betty is scandalized.

archie goes to meet his father for a breakfast at pop’s chocklit shoppe for a serious talk. but while he’s int he bathroom, a man with a gun is holding up the chocklit shoppe. he demands fred’s wallet, then pops a hole in him and runs off.

and that.........is where this season......ends.

---

thank you for joining me for season 1 of this shitshow. i love this shitty show. if you loved reading about it, or were mortified by whatever the fuck happened here, then you should watch it as well.

i never pass up an opportunity to shill myself, so if you like what i write, drop me a buck or two at my patreon. i do more writing like this, but also i mostly make comics, so make sure to read the page when you’re signing up so you know what you’re getting!

i WILL return...with season...2!

https://www.patreon.com/aghoststory

[ziamhaze]

Why Zayn Malik is the walking embodiment of a Ravenclaw: a doctoral thesis

now if any of you know me you know that I would sell my soul for a quality written hp au, but one thing that’s been a constant for me when starting a fic is the question of whether or not the writer will categorize zayn as a ravenclaw or a slytherin (there’s no other option besides these two).  Well I’m here to hopefully end that century long debate and give it to you straight (not quick): zain javadd malik is UNQUESTIONABLY a ravenclaw.

brace yourselves. - also you should right click open links in new tabs for evidence/best experience-

ok, so like niall, I think a lot of people associate zayn with surface qualities and truth be told I don't blame them because unless you take the time to get to know who he is beyond the small talk in interviews and making sure liam didn't fall off the stage half the time, I can totally see why people put him in slytherin - stereo typically moody, mysterious, and loves to cause ruckus with louis.

HOWEVER, people need to look into the quietness and notice that he's not sitting there like a hufflepuff and taking what's being said as is, even though he does get talked over a lot, he's making sure that if he has something to say, it's because he's got everyone's opinions and a full picture of all arguments/facts before he's giving his witty two sense and that's even if he feels overly moved to express that ‘no, you're all wrong it's actually this’ or ‘well you've forgot about this pov’.  but make sure you know your place bc even if you directly talk to him about something he may not talk to you about it bc he's a reserved ravenclaw, not willing to openly talk like most social gryffindors or not so humble slytherins would.  It's rare that he's actually saying something to brag about himself or talk about himself because that's neither here nor there and most of the time he won't even speak up about the previously mentioned things bc as a true ravenclaw, he knows what’s right and he doesn't need to boast about it like a slytherin; he's confident enough in his own intelligence - sometimes misconstrued as ravenclaw arrogance!  but is it really? bc if you're right you're right. 

 let's also talk about his antics with louis (and the occasional harry - also see: VERY rare liam occurrences).  yes, using one's wit to their advantage is textbook slytherin, which is why zayn can share this trait, but also notice who's instigating the pranks (correct answer: louis) and how zayn would carry them out.  always calculated, always waiting to hear instructions fully instead of running full force ahead with it all bc 'you guys are fucking idiots if you think I'm going to do this and run the risk of getting caught - take the time to plan this shit out and make it worth while.  I'm not gonna half ass a prank, if they're gonna cry, they're gonna bawl.' 

how about his love for english?  a typical ravenclaw characteristic?  perhaps, but it's so important to see how he views the world through the wording and thoughts/philosophies of othersin order to influence his own being.  I’m dizzy on how much he speaks in interviews about how much he wants to go back to school and do a proper english degree, wanting to learn beyond the books he can buy on his own.  be careful though!  zayn will say what he thinks and believes no matter what!!!  so while he loves english and the words (such a shame he wasn’t allowed to speak more about urdu and his culture while in the band), and the books he reads, it's how he compartmentalizes that alongside his own beliefs and thoughts that makes his favouritism notable.  also slight note at how he values intelligence in others and seeks that out from there.  Need I use his quote on education: “one of the most important things you can have”.  I mean, that in itself should be enough for this post.

moving on to his confusing loyalty!  I've yet to see zayn categorized as a gryffindor or hufflepuff, but many overlook his soft nature and caring side - ziall anyone??  it's innate for him to be caring towards those he loves.  let's not forget that "zayn wears his heart on his sleeve" bc HE DOES!  as caring as a hufflepuff and as loyal as a gryffindor, but what sets him apart is his raging ability to cut off people or stop contact with them after a while because they've done him wrong (if they listened to him the first time or actually paid attention to what he said then they wouldn't be in this situation) and no, I'm not just referring to post 1D zayn mess.  and no, I do not agree with the statement that zayn can do no wrong - though as a ravenclaw he might disagree with you on that bc when he’s in his element he’s always right.  it's important to also note that sometimes he just needs a nudge, he hasn't forgotten about you, he's just bad at texting back - cue the on and off liam friendship post band break up.  It's clear when it comes to some old interviews that he cares about these people but let's not forget that he has a temper and can let that sometimes cloud his judgement.  now would be a good time to ask if anyone knows if he has a new manager yet after that fiasco.

can we back track a second on his need for personal space to think and caring nature because of it?  self proclaimed introvert, I think a lot of people misconstrue what they saw of him in the band as temperamental and stuck up, when in reality he was simply someone who enjoyed the banter with others until he needed to go away and rejuvenate by himself for a little bit (tbt toddler zayn who needed to play with his toys by himself for a while after being around too many people).  are there introverts in every house?  without a doubt, however they’re most commonly found in ravenclaw, specifically the core trait of needing to gather their barrings and recharge before going back to join in on the fun.  you see, unlike best mate slytherin louis, zayn mostly holds back his bitterness from the others, making sure that he doesn’t say anything that might hurt them too badly - something that I greatly attribute to him knowing when he needs to go away for a bit before getting annoyed.  those of you who know, know.  soft zayn hours are intense!  honing in on his own needs of space to establish a calm demeanor in order to give others the attention and care he thinks they AND THEIR THOUGHTS deserve (namely crinkly eyed leeyum).  you’ll know it when you see it: the chin hook hugs, back rubs, and closed mouth smiles scream ‘I appreciate you and am here in the moment’.  it’s here where he shares a lot of caring (even if he mistakes what’s going on as something he actually needs to be concerned about but better safe than sorry!), nurturing traits with hufflepuffs.  having this social awareness also allows for him to clock important info that others might think he’s overlooking by not speaking - a ravenclaw?  as if.

speaking of personal space, we got a glimpse into his house from TIU documentary, but his solo interviews have given us a chance to read (and if we’re lucky, see) how he transforms his houses into his own sanctuary.  now, each house can debate on their own about the purpose of their common room to instill an element of comfort and while no, zayn doesn’t publicly have a library or reading nook like a typical ravenclaw might have, I think a PERSONAL ART/GRAFFITI ROOM SUFFICES.  we’ll get to his art later, trust me.  there are other spaces documented too though: his pirate theme shed in the backyard, tepee, room made up of entirely collaged walls in his old LA house, and let’s not forget about how strongly he felt towards the old tour bus that he felt compelled to get a tattoo reminder (#zouis).  his need to make a sanctuary out of any space he inhabits for longer than a week confirms how important individual comfort is to him and again, how in touch with this he is (I see a good debate here on whether or not this could be a hufflepuff trait as well).  little boy from bradford who’s smashing it buying his Mum and family a house??  wants them to have that comfort too!!!  the “gift” was also probably one of his most humble moments ever documented, so let’s not forget he’s a lil humble ravenclaw

and what would a zayn ravenclaw analysis be without picasso!zayn?  ravenclaw's are not only intelligent - please note that I didn't use the word smart bc there IS a difference to them - but they're also creative, both in the conventional and unconventional sense.  Of course we know of zayn's killer high notes (ask if me if I'm over the high note in If I Got You. hint: I'm not) and drawing abilities (zayn, will you draw a picture of me?  no, I don't liek you) but it's the passion and WHAT IT IS that he's singing and drawing that matters.  yes, comics, album sticker packs, very bland 'A' for a certain band member - but note the enthusiasm and NEED to talk about ‘who Harry?  tell them WHO drew that A tattoo for you!’  ‘you, it was you zayn.’  SMUG AF SMILE and tell me what other topic zayn talks about with that much enthusiasm and outspokenness other than liam payne.  there are many instances however where someone (usually brother niall) needs to coax him out to actually display this individualistic personality and I’m not gonna hide the link in the underlines this time because it’s SO IMPORTANT to watch this video of him wanting to sing drake (note the complete opposite genre of their published music) but nervous on getting lost in himself bc ‘don’t start something if you don’t want me to finish it’ and Niall knows this.  liam knows this the most, but niall’s outward with it and literally has to softly start siNGING IN ORDER FOR ZAYN TO KNOW ‘YOU’RE NOT IN THIS ALONE AND OTHERS WILL APPRECIATE WHAT YOU CARE ABOUT TOO, LOOK LIAM WILL EVEN BEATBOX FOR YOU’. EXTREMELY CONFIDENT IN HIS ELEMENT.  don’t mistake that for 24/7 slytherin confidence. in fact, pause.  ravenclaw’s when in their element will have surging confidence and might boast to the level of slytherin’s but they’ll wait for the right moment to show you up and pay attention because when they do they can get very competitive. was him getting a tattoo first out of the band at age 16 something worth overlooking?  absolutely not!  by now I’ll personally hand deliver you an award if you can give me an accurate count of his ink, but hello???  is this artistry?  duh.  is this him saying what’s important to him in art form?  warmer.  are these passionate things he cares about but sometimes won’t find necessary to speak about out loud?  on fire!  another shameless you-must-look-at-this-post link HERE of me talking to him about his art in the midst of 5,000 screaming girls who all wanted to talk about his looks.  LOOK.  AT.  HIS.  APPRECIATION!  WHO HE IS AND OTHERS RECOGNIZING THAT BASED ON HOW HE PROJECTS HIMSELF IS SO IMPORTANT TO ZAYNIE.  Look, if zayn’s not authentic to himself or exuding individuality then even he would tell you that he’s failing himself.  we can see this also in his fashion choices (there have been a few questionable moments, but over all, ace outfits).  nowadays harry tends to get a lot more in your face fashion press, but do I need to pull out receipts on how many best dressed lists zayn has been on SOLELY because he thinks outside the box and doesn’t give a fuck?  listen to me when I say that ravenclaw’s will die without originality/individuality and the ability to take control of theirs

perfect segue to his exit of the band.  was it bc of mental health issues, I mean yeah, he’s written such, but were those spurred on bc he didn’t have his space to be an individual and do his own thing?  obviously.  and before anyone says anything about him taking control of his future being an ‘I don’t take bs and will stand up for it’ decision as a slytherin trait, let me remind you how long it took him to actually do it.  imo a slytherin would have stood up from the start if they were that unhappy about it.  again, he looked at things from all angles for a long enough time to be able to understand what was going on before doing something he’d regret. sadly if it did affect his mental health that much maybe he took a little too long in making the decision but ‘we do it all for the fans’ and while I appreciated that, I also appreciated him writing an entire song about wanting to take off clothes and the love of being pushed up against the wall soooooooooooo.  his songwriting skills: they're definitely getting there, but the amount of songs (TWENTY SEVEN) he felt he NEEDED to put on Icarus Falls because he didn't want to just let those stories NOT be told, it was IMPERATIVE that people hear those thoughts stuck in his head.  unfortunately his tongue got the best of him - as it does for most ravenclaws! - and his passion did not catch up with his patience, so now many won't even get my previous IIGY high note reference bc of the sales flop that was Z2 - something spurred on by him calling out the record label for not letting him release it.  can they be blamed though, because zayn, again, the ravenclaw poster boy, allegedly doesn't want to do promo for his music because to him it's not about the sales, instead, the music. should. speak. for. itself!  ‘if 10 people listen, cool. if 10 million people listen, also cool, but I'd rather 10 people ACTUALLY LISTEN and appreciate the art versus 10 million people listening bc I look good in an interview’ and if that doesn't say artistic ravenclaw passion, idk what does