#idk what a grease trap looks like to

[lixel-5]

tftgs vol 1 spoilers but jack says the font on the cookie box is comic sans

my brain has a fixation with the font comic sans and i would’ve IMMEDIATELY clocked it

like lol comic sans. cookie dough in comic sans haha. sans undertale! sans underta wait cookie dough we don’t sell WE DONT SELL COOKIE DOUGH

[sewer-sermon]

dnt normally post oc stuff but i suddenly remembered an old one of mine that was inspired by @bogleech's harmburger stuff (particularly the variation in awful hospital)

idk if they had a name before but its Redbert now!! (Red "40" Bert for long)

they're a cheap shitty fast food megacorp's twisted experiment to make a "meat recycling program", so that when meat went rancid you could recycle it into edible stuff again, so they could save money on outsourcing their meat products! it worked but it also became alive and really really scared

they sound like the most stereotypical awkward "visibly bullied in highschool" nerd you can picture, however that manifests in your mind (i personally think of pete spankoffski from nerdy prudes must die but it's slightly different for everyone). they're pretty timid so it was easy enough for the fast food chain to convince them to work at one of their establishments, and they're technically company property so they didn't have much of a choice anyways, their sentience was entirely unintentional but ultimately means they can learn how to work a cash register and flip patties for peanuts and scraps so naturally they were put right to it!

they are technically food grade at all times- the experiment that birthed them was a success! said experiment being that they basically just threw a metric fuckton of meat in various states of freshness (from "severed, still-bleeding appendage" to "straight roadkill") into a giant vat together and blended it, and the combined hubris of this action alone plus everything else the company had done to get to how bloated it was present-day reviled the universe so badly that the thing was Immediately stricken with life if only to have an outlet for the sheer appall it felt at that microinstant.

it created this single homogenous kind of meat that immediately absorbs anything not resembling it (besides other meats), including bacteria, flies, debris and such, and just. Turns it into more meat. so it can't technically spoil bc any time something tries to break it down it just breaks it down quicker into more meat. that also means they don't really ever get less fresh than "literally still kicking & screaming"- they might get a little nasty being made to stand out in the summer heat but it'll digest back into more, fresher meat the second they get into some air conditioning! so it's totally safe for them to be serving people food & in fact they make the place cleaner just by kind of idly standing around (however they can't leave their bucket. that much contact with the ground might have consequences for the building's infrastructure eventually)

my horrible meat chicken they just wanna scroll thru youtube shorts in the break room

one of my friends asked me if they could lose mass and i said that you could in theory scoop some out of them but if you used your bare hands, it would start taking mass from you rapidly enough to actively feel yourself losing skin cells and the sensation will almost definitely jar you into dropping it on the ground where it'll either fall back into Redbert or crawl into them. sometimes they run under the fridge and we're not really sure what happens to those ones, but sometimes employees find them a couple weeks later hiding behind the grease trap. they hiss

but funny aside they will turn anything into meat eventually but they struggle to digest metal, so they probably get scooped semi regularly with some metal implements that are changed out when they wear down too far and the excess is made into burgers or something. it's to keep them from getting too big that they inconvenience the other workers too much, but i will note that they were in fact smaller upon creation and the scoopings have become more frequent as of late

they were made with my love of drawing long serpentine things in mind and also raw meat :> and chickens! they don't really have to look like a chicken they just reuse those limbs the most consistently bc it's the least offputting way they've managed to make themselves look (as part of their customer training they were made to carefully study how people reacted to their appearance upon using various arrangements of limbs, organs and bone fragments as facial features)

don't know if ill post abt them super often, i don't do a lot of oc stuff often, but maybe ill doodle them whenever i get bored and i have some spare time so ill make them a tag :V

have the old version of them + art i did of them as an animal crossing villager(??) under a cut bc it's Old!

[thirddoctor]

top 5 'haha, what a loser' moments in bg3 >:3

dhgjsf very funny ask thank you

Obvious one but after we saved the grove and I was like well this sure is a fun party! let me go talk to my good buddy Gale :) and Gale was like I wanna teach you some magic, so I said sure sounds fun, then went to talk to Lae'zel and she's like I can't believe you're gonna sleep with Gale and I was like wait WHAT and it turned out all my friends were a bunch of horny weirdos who wanted me so bad it made them look stupid

Speaking of horny weirdos, when Mizora was like, so you and me, how about it? ;) after she tried to force my best boy Wyll to either sell her his soul or let his dad die. idk what kind of answer she was expecting from me

Every time I went to have a nice conversation with Astarion and instead he was like soooo have you thought about helping me take over the world yet? :) and I would have to patiently explain once again that no, I wasn't gonna do that

When I discovered my cool mom friend was in fact a deadbeat skipping out on her actual family to be my cool mom friend

Minthara trying to look tough and mean while having the saddest wettest eyes in Faerun

Some bonus unscripted loser moments:

After we'd just triumphantly defeated a horde of goblins and then all four of us slipped and fell over on some grease at the same time

In the first romance scene with Lae'zel when, playing as Astarion, I tried to be suave and assertive and immediately rolled a 2

When I saved a funny rock in Act One and spent the whole game planning to chuck it at the Netherbrain for the killing blow and then when the moment came it just bounced right off lol

When I went around opening up cursed chests and wondered why my companions were all being little babies about it even though I was the one on 1 HP and I was fine, till I realised they were, you know, getting cursed, and I was unaffected on account of being undead

When I threatened Mizora by leaving Raphael's body at her feet My pic of Raphael dying in a glue trap :)

I also spent an... embarrassingly long time carrying Cazador's corpse in my inventory, weighing me down, while I tried to figure out a fitting resting place for him. First I had the idea of leaving him in Chult to be eaten by dinosaurs, but there's no way to get back there, so then I thought about trapping him in the magic lamp, but when I went back to find it it wasn't there anymore (I might have destroyed it?), so I finally settled on dumping him in the astral prism.

I was going to put my portrait there for him to gaze on for eternity, but it switched to being Lae'zel instead. I was romancing her so it's fine I guess. I'll taunt him with my hot gf. I also left him with a jester's hat (that I sadly couldn't place on his head), a poisoned apple, a... book? Honestly don't remember what that was about but l'm sure I left him with some thrilling reading material. And for company I gave him a teddy bear, a clown head, and Gortash's hand. I think I was just clearing out my inventory at that point. Can't tell you what a relief it was to finally be rid of his weight (there's a metaphor in there, I'm sure).

[tessiete]

10 for Padme and Obi-Wan BUT ONLY IF YOU WANT!!!!!

I DO WANT!! Also, I tried for angst and whump, but this came out fluff???? Idk...did I have enough coffee today? Will you love me anyway? I LOVE YOU!!!

May We Meet Again

“I thought I’d never get to see you again.”

He turns to the voice, not immediately recognising it, but even seeing her standing in the doorway of his healing room does not bring much more clarity.

He’s halfway to rising, his feet on the floor, the covers thrown back when she reaches for him, resting her hand on his bare shoulder, and pushing him back.

“Anakin -”

“- is fine. He’s only gone out for something to eat. I told him I was hungry, but really, he was beginning to drive me crazy.”

“Is he alright?”

She cocks her head, and frowns.

“He’s been worried about you,” she says. “Frantic, in the way that he is. You know.”

Obi-Wan knows, but doesn’t want to admit that to her. He doesn’t want to sully her image of his padawan, or let her think he has anything but faith in him. It is, at once, an attack and defense. His relationship with his padawan is not - not easy to explain, but it is his. And her relationship with his padawan is...really none of his business. Whether she is a spy, or a traitor, he will give her nothing to report back to Anakin.

But that is an uncharitable thought. He regrets it almost immediately, and only says, “I’m sorry to have caused any upset. If that is what I’ve done.”

He pulls the bedsheet higher to cover his naked chest.

“Oh, no!” Padme says. Then, seeing his discomfort, she covers her mouth with a thoughtful hand, looking for something to ease him. “Here.”

Anakin has left his robe. It is darker than the type Obi-Wan favours, and a little heavier. It smells like Anakin - like black grease, and iron, and comfort - and he cannot help but clutch it closer as she drapes it around him, no matter what she may think.

“There,” she says. “I didn’t mean to surprise you, but I promised I wouldn’t leave, and anyway, I’ve been wanting to see you.”

“Oh,” he says, mildly. “What about?”

He picks at a catch in the wool of the cloak. Anakin’s so careless sometimes. Not like Padme, who’s watching him so closely he can feel her gaze as it searches him for something.

“How much of the last five days do you remember?”

“Five days?” he asks. Then, before his surprise can confess his unease he laughs. “Oh, dear. It seems as though I’ve been malingering in my convalescence.”

“Not at all,” she says. “It seems it was a bit of a close thing. We were - Master Kenobi, I’m sorry, but it was rather harrowing.”

“Surely it wasn’t as serious as all that.”

She sits. Not in the chair under the window, as Anakin must have, but upon his bed, near to the middle so that he has to shift to leave room between them.

“I don’t know what I was expecting when I received your call,” she says. “But it was not that. I suppose...I suppose I’m naive. I’ve experienced war before. I remember how it was on Naboo. But that was different in some ways from this. This was torture.”

His fingers tense. He shifts his leg and feels the muscle twinge where it has been pulled back together with steribinders and bioweave. He can feel the press of bruises against every cautious inhalation. There is still dirt lodged deep underneath his fingernails from that foul planet, as he’d scrambled against the earth in a futile attempt to escape the agony of his mind.

He takes a breath, and prepares a perfect little lie to soothe her.

“It wasn’t -”

“Don’t lie to me, Master Kenobi,” she says. Her eyes are dark, and serious, black with terrible knowledge. “I was there. I pulled you back. I held you first, after Bail dragged you onboard. I listened as you spoke of horrible things. I wrapped your wounds, and counted down the hours until we got back here. I held my hand over your mouth to feel if you still breathed. I had your blood all over my hands...What would I have told Anakin?”

The last she says nearly to herself, which is good because Obi-Wan has no answer. There is nothing he can really say to any of it, except for one thing. One truth. Her hands lie limp, and empty in her lap as she stares at them, as though seeing them painted incarnadine still. He takes one in his.

“Thank you,” he says. Her palm is soft, her hands like the wings of birds. “I cannot say what might have happened, but I can say that I would have preferred any death to one trapped on Zigoola. You spared me from that. You saved me. And for that, I thank you.”

“Master Kenobi, I was really scared.”

He smiles. “I wasn’t. I don’t remember much of the past five days, but I remember that. After we left Zigoola, I wasn’t scared. Not once. And some of that, at least, must have been you.”

She looks at him sideways, with a smirk carving itself out of her anxious frown.

“I have heard much of your silver tongue, Master Kenobi,” she says. “After you left, Sabe spoke for weeks of the lovely little comforts you conjured while we waited on Tatooine. And Bail used to complain of how neatly you sidestep. And Anakin. And Sa - and I see you now, you know.”

Obi-Wan scowls, then scoffs. “Well, that is a rather uncharitable picture my friends have painted of me,” he says. “What charming traitors they all are.”

Padme laughs, and so does he, hardly feeling the bruises or the stitches now.

“I suppose you shall have to get some new ones,” she says, smiling bright.

“I think so,” he agrees. Then he raises her hand in his, as though in formal introduction. “I don’t suppose you are also in the market?” he asks. “You do seem to have betrayed them all in telling me.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” she says. She takes his hand in a firm grip and gives it a decisive shake. “Are we agreed then, Master Kenobi?”

“We are, Senator Amidala.”

She takes up his other hand, and squeezes his fingers between hers. “All my friends call me Padme.”

“Ah, it is a pleasure to meet you, Padme,” he replies. “My friends call me Obi-Wan.”

[jimlingss]

It's B from @bang-tan-bitches and I would like to request a yandere fic. It can be BTS OT7 x reader or BTS member of your choice x reader. Similar to your amazing isekai story i would like something similar(a long one shot or a multi-chapter, your choice). Whether YN transmigrates to a game or a novel (not as a villain but maybe as a cannon fodder side character that has little importance to the story and just wants to lay low) but YN captures the attention of the love interest(s) and shit starts getting weird, intense, uncomfortable. Maybe it causes the supposed female lead to turn into the villain, maybe it causes the love interest(s) to turn into the villain(s). Maybe YN realizes that something is wrong with the story/game but can't figure it out. Idk. Time period doesn't matter. Modern. Ancient. Fairytale. Fantasy. Whatever.

If you can do this great! If you can't or don't want to, that's okay too. You're an amazing writer with so much talent and I'm really appreciative of all your work. Thank you for taking requests from your fans, I'm sure you've received a lot.

Take care! 😘💜💜💜

at the start of the pandemic, I was getting back into manga and manhwa and then after a few months, I dawdled off but recently, I’ve been getting back into it again haha so this request came at a pretty good time. Hopefully you won’t mind that I’ve taken some creative liberties with this request lol I think it’s more fun if I keep readers on their toes, including the requester.

On another note, I really shouldn’t be writing all my isekai’s with Taehyung as the main lead but he’s just so fitting asdfghjkl

↳ The Fox Bride

2.6k || 99% Light Fluff, 1% Angst || Kim Taehyung || Isekai!AU, Slight Yandere!AU, Nine-Tailed Fox!Taehyung

You are a tutorial character.

But you weren’t always. You still remember being a career woman in the twenty-first century, struggling with overtime and paying bills while trying to keep yourself fed. The success of that ranged from month to month. But more importantly, you still remember that night too.

It was rainy. Your car blew a flat tire. You pulled to the side of the highway and got out.

The last thing that registered was the deafening honk of the semi-truck. 

Then you felt yourself flying upwards.

But when you landed, instead of colliding with the concrete and dying upon impact, you fell back onto your ass in the middle of a market on a dirt road. Transported back a thousand years ago.

Your purpose was fulfilled in the next two minutes. 

“Are you alright?”

The male protagonist had stretched out his hand and helped you up. The hero. The main character. It was obvious with his bright red hair, shining eyes and bronze armour. He was so starkly different from the rest who were gray and drab, including you who was suddenly in a brown shapeless dress. He was practically a neon billboard in the middle of a graveyard.

“Are you Y/N?”

You looked at him, befuddled that he knew your name. But before you could even respond or provide a line of dialogue, he said, “This is a delivery from Baker Jeon. He gives you his thanks.”

The protagonists handed you a loaf of bread. Undoubtedly his first ever quest. 

You looked down, not sure what to do with it.

“Do you know where the blacksmith is?”

You had absolutely no clue. But there was the deafening noise of hammering steel literally ten steps away. You would have to be blind not to see the gruff man shaping a sword at an anvil right on the road and deaf not to hear it. As if that wasn’t enough, the literal sign of the shop read: ‘the blacksmith’.

So you pointed.

“Thanks.” And he trudged off.

You were utterly confused until a background character who said they knew you waved you over. You shared your bread with her, brushed aside when she asked you what was wrong, and you followed her as she walked up to your supposed cottage.

All the while, you saw yourself in the background of the hero’s main quest as he ran through the town.

And that was that.

It wasn’t so hard to figure out where you were or what the hell this was when you put your mind to it. Without much of a job or a family, and no technology but the candle that you had to conserve when night fell, there was ample time.

So you spent it thinking and you eventually solved the mystery.

You were in Beast Boys Harem: A Forbidden Embrace. AKA. a dumb yaoi otome game app that you downloaded on your phone when you were sixteen and bored. You remember because you were too cheap to buy the routes, so you played the tutorial, prologue and read the summaries of the routes online. Now you regret that you didn’t just fork over the goddamn five dollars. 

Even more than that, you regret that you even downloaded the game in the first place.

But at least you’re just a tutorial character. You’re free from the storyline and the plot—

That’s what you thought.

Turns out living a thousand years in the past in a fantasy realm as a woman didn’t bode well. It was probably no different from how it would’ve been like in the medieval ages. You had no trade skills. No one was willing to accept you as an apprentice when you were a woman. You found that you were essentially illiterate with a reading level of a preschooler, no one was willing to teach you, and you had no power or wealth when you were without a father or a husband.

And you’re certain what the landlord and tax-collectors are doing is illegal.

But in this world, in this unjust realm, there is no such thing as the law.

“We know you’re in there!”

You jolt from the heavy pounding on the frail wooden door.

“It’s time to pay up!”

Your hands tremble as you set the candle down that’s still billowing of smoke, the flame smothered out mere seconds ago. As much as you want to hide and pull the blanket over your head, you know that door won’t last. They’ll find you if you’re trapped in here.

“If you can’t, spread those legs of yours!” a low voice spits and there’s chortling from the men.

Someone adds, “Sell your body already!” 

“Open up! Damn whore!”

Without a single possession but the white nightgown clad on your body, you open the latch of the back window. You cringe at the squeak, trying to keep your movements quiet before the door gives way.

You hoist yourself up onto the window ledge. The door bends with the strength of multiple clenched fists against it. Your feet touch the soft grass outside your cottage. The men shout.

And the door finally slams against the wall, hinges broken. 

But by then, you’ve slipped into the shadows.

“Where is she?!”

The blanket is ripped off the bed, curtains are whipped back, every drawer dumped onto the ground and cupboards yanked open. The floor shakes with the weight of their boots and you press your palm to your mouth to silence your panting breaths, slowly stepping away.

“That damn whore slipped through us—!”

But as your shitty luck would have it, a sudden crack has the whole world coming to a standstill.

Shit. You look down at your feet, realizing that the snapping noise came from you stepping on a twig. And it’s exposed your hiding place.

“There she is!” — “Out the back window!”

You grab fistfuls of your dress and bolt. 

“Get her!”

With your cottage on the edge of town, there’s nowhere to run but through the dense woods. It’s shrouded in the darkness, no doubt filled with wild beasts creeping through the thicket. The rustling canopy of the trees doesn’t allow the dim, waning moonlight to illuminate your path.

So you’re left blind. Struggling up the high incline of the forest, feet slipping on dirt and mud. But you keep sprinting with all your might, even when the pointed, coiling branches scrape at your calves until blood sheds and the hem of your dress tears in the underbrush.

“Run, little rabbit!” one of them mocks, “Run!”

The four men continue to give chase, gripping onto their roaring torches, shrieking and howling after you. One of them is manically laughing as if your efforts to flee only adds to the thrill. Their greased hands reach out to snatch you, but the tips of their fingers graze the ends of your hair.

Your teeth are sunk into the bottom of your lip, sobs breaking through your aching chest. Your lungs burn, dying for a break or moment of relief. But you don’t relent and luckily, you manage to build distance between you and the men. Only, that luck comes crashing down by a fucking hole.

A hole in the forest floor that you don’t see. That has your footing all wrong. That makes you scream and fall.

You twist your ankle in a direction it’s definitely not supposed to be in and cry from pain. 

A second later, you force yourself to get up and keep running with tears flooding your eyes and dripping down your cheeks. But it’s more like limping than running, akin to hobbling on one leg and every movement has pain shooting from your swelling ankle.

The effort becomes futile. They surround you within minutes.

“All finished?” The tax-collector’s head cocks with a spreading grin. “You’re not going to keep running?”

Why couldn’t you just fucking die the first time?! Even if it was an awful death where you didn’t have time to prepare yourself or say goodbye to anyone, at least it would’ve been the end. At least you wouldn’t have to suffer.

But there’s no time to grieve. Or hate the new life you’ve been given. This is it. You have to keep going. You have to survive. By any means. You’re about to pick up a branch and uselessly wave it around at them, shout at them to stand back. Anything that you could do to save yourself—

“Who dares come onto my mountain?!”

There’s a deep timbre behind you. A husky voice that quivers the very core of the forest.

As if the wind has swept through, the trees and thicket rustle and it goes silent.

The men fall back onto their asses, some torches clattering to the ground. Their eyes have grown double in size, nearly falling from their sockets and their jaws have dropped to the dirt.

“I-It’s the nine-tailed fox!”

The man scrambles back.

“Demon!” 

Another barely manages to get onto his feet. He turns around and lurches away while shrieking.

They all run. Scattering away as frantically as cockroaches when the light is flickered on.

From your spot on the ground, you turn around with wide eyes. 

Amber irises meet your gawking and they practically glow in the darkness of the forest. He is dressed in a loose, white robe that’s draped over his frame, open to the middle of his chest. And over his honey hair, on the top of his head, his pointed golden ears twitch. By the torch fire still yet to die out, he is illuminated and his shadow is casted on the ground. The blazing flame warms his cold, sharp features. 

He is the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen. In both worlds you’ve lived in.

And you know who he is.

Taehyung. One of the love interests of the hero. A seductive, sly creature that eventually coaxes the hero into selling him his soul to grant one of his wishes. But Taehyung grows to become an obsessed character that wants to do nothing but monopolize and possess the hero for himself.

That same Taehyung approaches you with his lip curled as you teeter to your feet.

“Run away, girl.” He leans close. “Before I eat you.”

“Stop!” 

On sheer instinct and adrenaline, you push him back. Your palm shoves against his firm chest.

Taehyung stumbles back with his eyes becoming rounded. He looks down to where you had made contact against his body. “Did...you just touch me?”

“What?”

Taehyung’s head darts upwards and he captures your wrist in his hand, squeezing tightly. He tugs you in and on your swollen ankle, you stumble into him. Bodies flush against one another. Your face pressed to his warm chest. His arm coming around your waist to break your fall.

He is aghast. 

“You’re not from this world.” Taehyung’s yellow eyes swirl as they gaze into you. “Where did you come from?”

…

It’s been three days.

“Wed me,” he begs for the seventy sixth time. 

You don’t know why you’re keeping a count.

“No.”

You’re hugging your knees for warmth. The rice paper-paneled doors are slid open and letting in the chilly air. He doesn’t seem to be affected by the cold, but you don’t look at him for long. 

You turn into the corner of his home while sitting on the tatami floors as if you’re putting yourself into time out. But you’d like to say it’s your privacy corner. It’s as private as this abode, which was basically one room, could get. 

Taehyung sighs in frustration, placing his hand on his forehead. His teeth grit. “You’re only making this harder for yourself.” Your silence angers him more. “You can never leave.”

You turn over your shoulder to glare. “Even if I married you, you’d never let me leave anyway.”

Taehyung narrows his eyes on you and then smirks. “You’re right. Wed or unwed, I won’t let you out of my sight. You should feel grateful, girl. You’re the best human I’ve ever treated.”

You quietly scoff.

Maybe you should feel scared. Maybe you should tread more lightly. After all, he’s not a character to be trifled with.

But you know he needs you. That alone gives you power. 

As a beast, Taehyung’s been trapped on this mountain by priests for centuries. The only way he can be free is by feeding off of sexual energy and breaking the barrier. But of course, they also cursed him to be unable to touch any woman in this universe. 

You aren’t from this universe.

You jolt when you realize that while you were lost in thought, Taehyung’s crawled closer. He has a foxy smile, amber eyes searching your expression. “Maybe….maybe I’ll grant you a bit of freedom if you would just give into the temptation and let me have a taste of you.”

As cold as he looks, he is beautiful. He is mischievous when he smirks and sly when he speaks. You are utterly spellbound as you look into his irises. And the temptation he speaks of flickers in the warmth of your belly.

But you turn away.

“I already said we only do that kind of thing after marriage. And I will only marry someone I love.”

Taehyung draws back with an unamused scoff. “What a prudish world you’re from.”

He wanted you the moment you were brought to this house. With the intensity of his stare and your captivated state, you had let him pin you to his floor and you liked it. But then clarity came and you blurted that such an act only happens after marriage. A lie just to buy time.

You didn’t expect for the hero to arrive at Taehyung’s house the next day. With his red hair and bronze armour, he had gotten lost in the forest and knocked on the door. Before you could limp over and answer it, Taehyung jumped off the roof and confronted him.

The guy was thrown off the mountain within five minutes.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. They were supposed to have a steamy rendezvous. Taehyung was supposed to get the sexual energy from him! 

The story was going off the rails. And you’re not sure what you’re even buying time for anymore.

The both of you know it’s only a matter of time before you break and succumb to his mesmerizing seduction.

Taehyung is cruel, ruthless, obsessive.

But what’s the most bewitching thing about him is the jarring contrast of when he’s clumsy and nurturing. It’s what he regards as his own weakness. What he hides from others. But you felt your heart waver two nights ago when you were shaken awake in the middle of twilight. When you peeked open your eye to see him gingerly wrapping your swollen ankle with bandages.

He looked beautiful in the pale moonlight, ears, tails, sharp features softened—

“Ow!” You wince as he squeezes your ankle, right on your injury.

“You think too much in your head,” he says and looks at you. “What’s wrong?”

“It hurts.”

A sadistic smile tugs on Taehyung’s lips. He lets go, but only to lift your chin with his fingers. His plush lips are inches away, his breath warm on your skin and he gazes deep into you. “I won’t let you return to your world. I won’t let you run away. I won’t let anyone harm you.”

“You’re mine now.” Taehyung swears, “You’ll fall in love with me eventually.”

You gulp and he smirks.

The two of you know it’s only a matter of time.

[daily-dose-of-writing]

Dream World

[Idk I was messing around trying to show madness so this kind of reads like a fever dream, hope you enjoy]

She was lost. Lost in an endless darkness, a trap that dug itself deeper the more she struggled, an endless hole so deep that daylight was nothing more than a dream, a dream that was slowly fading away, slipping faster and faster the more she thought about it like water sliding down a window, catching the light like an imaginary memory. Her consciousness slipping, half dazed, into insanity as the world faded from view.

She had kept the illusion world alive just long enough for the others to escape, and this was the consequence. Was it a consequence? What was a consequence? Cons— her mind was going, going, going. Memories. Words. Flushing over her. One. Another. Another. Dancing across her mind, tracing intricate patterns of shimmering colours like oil in water. Fading. Words dying on her tongue before they were born. Thought slipping away from her, weighted with desire to disappear completely.

She was gone now. They surely could not save her. Not that they believed as much.

——

“What is this place?”

“I — I don’t know.”

The three friends stepped carefully through the landscape, silent for the most part.

A yelp turned their attention to Mary, at the back, who’s feet were sinking slowly into the nothingness as though it were cornflour and water, thick glooping liquid and soft stable solid in one. They tugged on her waist and she came free, standing on the same space which was all of a sudden firm and stable.

“What the fuck.” She breathed. “The faster we get out of her the better.”

The others grumbled their agreement.

The walls of the world melted into each other, an unidentifiable shade as bright whites and seeping black bled into each other, each visible from different angles, depending on where they looked. It was more than unnerving.

“What’s that?” Shadows passed over a dark bulge in wall of nothing a few feet and a thousand away from them, in front and behind them, above them and far, far below them.

“Abigail?” She asked tentatively, a hand reaching forward and grounding on something supple and warm. “Is that you?”

The world firmed around them, stilling into a soft grey. The shape moulded into vaguely human and then very human indeed.

“Abby!” She dropped to her knees, skirting in front of the curled form.

It stayed unmoving, head curled into its knees. An illusion quickly broken as it reared its head, portraying Abigail’s face, old and rotting, pieces falling from her cheeks and oozing grey blood from her paled, gaunt face. The flesh curled like putrid petals, dulled with rancid decomposition.

“Fuck!” She screeched, tumbling backward and sinking into the uneven nothingness.

And then everything went white. A dull, dirty white, kitchen tiles coated in an almost imperceptible layer of grease, sterile operating rooms cast in shadows of blood, broken feathers of white doves clipped by cars on busy roads.

And then there were eyes, wide and wild and bluer than blue, and everywhere. Staring down on them like accusing gods, and then they disappeared. The only ones left were those in Abigail’s head, bright against now-smooth skin so pale it barely registered against the white world around them.

“Abigail?”

A whisper escaped her lips like wind, imperceptible and wild. It grew louder and louder and louder, until soft words formed on her lips.

“We must not look at goblin men, we must not buy their fruits, who knows upon what soil they fed, their hungry thirsty roots.”

Over and over she repeated the verse.

“What is that?” Mary queried.

“It — it’s a poem. It’s the first verse of a poem by Christina Rossetti. It — it’s called Goblin Market.”

“Why is she repeating it?”

She shook her head in frightful wonderment, “I don’t know, I don’t know.” She leant down in front of Abigail. “Abby? Abby its me. It’s me, Eve. Please, please —“ She reached out a hand, but the moment it touched her knee, she let out a blood curdling scream and the world fell back into darkness.

——

Somewhere, someone was singing. Quiet, out of tune just slightly so that it didn’t feel quite comforting.

“Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly—”Momentary silence sliced through the darkness as the voice dipped out of hearing range. “All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise.”

“Blackbird singing in the dead of night Take these sunken eyes and learn to see. All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to be free.” Getting closer and closer and then disappearing into the black. “Black bird fly, black bird fly, into the light of the dark black night. Black bird fly, black bird fly.”

Loud. “Into the light of the dark black night.”

Eve stepped toward the singing, she recognised the song, of course she did. “B-blackbird sing-singing in the dead of night—” her voice shook, unsteady and cracked, tears (were they tears, in this place?) rolled down her cheeks, “Take these broken wings and learn to fly, all your life—“

Cut off by the other voice, “You were only waiting for this moment to arise.”

The darkness faded away. Abigail stood before her, wearing a pale grey shirt and trousers. The image flickered as though supported by bad connection, shifting to a red dress, then jeans, worn at the knees, a black jumper, and then finally to the clothes she was wearing the last time they saw each other. The blue-flowered blouse giving stark contrast to the dark, but even that began to fade back to grey.

“Hello Eve.”

“Abigail!” She cried, surging forward to hug the other woman.

“No.” She held her arm out and Eve froze.

“We — Abby, we came to get you out of here.”

She tilted her head, blue eyes squinting in that stupid way they always did, lips pursed and brows furrowed. “I’m dead.”

“What? No, no, surely just trapped?”

“Is this not hell?” She pondered

“No! It’s a dream world, your body is still in our world.”

“Sounds like hell.” She said. “Feels like it too.”

Eve’s eyebrows drooped with a pitiful agony, “What happened to you in here?”

A cold, sarcastic laugh rattled around her mouth like sharpened pieces of metal scraps, and escaped into the void as much a shrill denial of sanity. It was all an answer needed.

“Please, please come back with us.” Eve begged, “Come back with me.”

“No.”

“Why?” She begged

“Been here too long. Yes. Yes. Gone a bit mad, really.” She laughed again, her eyes splaying so far open the whites showed. She ran a shaking hand through hair that she hadn’t previously noticed was mottled. “Mad. Mad. Yes.”

Eve was crying now, and she could hear the others footsteps not too far behind them.

“Please Abigail.”

“Oh don’t be sad. Sad isn’t useful. Need to keep that good head on your shoulders,” she grinned, frightfully wide, “don’t want to go mad now, do you?”

“Grief will do that.”

“Oh pish posh. Grief? What is grief if not love persevering?”

“Abby—“

The others were getting nearer and nearer and nearer.

“Best be off then, mustn’t you? Wings are fixed now, the blackbird flies away.”

“Not without you.”

“‘Fraid the madness has made this my domain. Don’t bury me dear, I never much liked worms. No. Assholes are worms. Pink and obnoxious. Whoever needs to be that pink? ‘Cept babies, of course.”

Eve laughed, tasting her own tears.

“Goodbye.”

And the dream disappeared, just like it had before, and she watched Abigail disappear with it, holding up the world, just like before.

——

They didn’t bury her body, she’d asked specifically after all. Instead, they burned her, and the fire burned the sky rich black and smouldering blue.

[mooreaux]

idk if you know, but over time the paper texture ipad protectors can really wear down the tip of your apple pencil (if that’s what you use!) so just be aware of that! love your art & hope you’re having a nice day :)

Yeah! So this actually kinda works out for me since I always forget/put off changing out the nib on the end of the pencil. I figure if I'm FORCED to change it more often it'll be a good way to remember... that makes no sense I'm sure- but I really am liking the paper feel quite a bit in comparison to the slip and slide grease trap that was the no screen protector look I was going with before.

[kurt-nightcrawler]

Decay

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Request 1: Omg I just read the I have a boyfriend and the opposites attract and I'm aksjksjeje. Idk if ur taking requests, but in case u are I need more on that mother nature reader and Warren pleaaaaseee!!! Maybe something with angst, like some conflict in their relationship, but with a happy would be greatttttt I absolutely love ur writing x

Request 2: I have a idea for mother nature x warren: how about an angsty fic about their first fight? And for the first time mother nature feels heartbreak and is really hurt. Her eyes are pitch black and empty. Usually, when she relaxes, she grows pumpkins etc. But this time all the vegatables are rotten or too small. Maybe you feel inspired by this :) (would be great if it has a happy ending though haha) Thank you, you're great!

Warnings: Language, mentions of sex, underage drinking, panic attack, and assault

Word Count: 8k

A/N: This took a long time but I hope you guys enjoy it! This builds more into Warren and Mother Nature’s relationship, probably set before fairytale

 Everything had been perfect. Halloween was coming up, and (Y/N) asked Jubilee if she’d do a group costume with her and another girl. 

Jubilee said yes, trusting (Y/N)’s opinion on people, for she always saw the good in them.

Jubilee took her, and the other girl, Jessie Rowe, to one of those pop up Halloween shops to look for costumes. 

“We can just get inspired if we don’t see anything perfect, you know?” Jubilee said. “We can always make our costumes.” (Y/N) nodded while looking at the different colored crayon costumes. 

“But it would be so much easier just to get one now. We could all go as like— sexy angels or something. In honor of Warren!” Jessie suggested. 

(Y/N) grimaced a little at the outfit Jessie held up. She didn’t feel comfortable wearing something so thin and tight at some house party on a cold October night. 

Jubilee laughed, “That’d be cute.” 

“Come on,” Jessie nudged her. “(Y/N), I bet your boyfriend would go nuts seeing you in this.”

“Mmm, I think he might find it kind of offensive or something…” She didn’t want to go as a sexy anything for Halloween. No offense to anyone who did dress sexy on Halloween, but that just wasn’t (Y/N)’s vibe. “Not my thing anyway…”

“Oh, come on! He wouldn’t be offended; Warren’s such an angel. I bet he’d fuck you if you wore this.” 

(Y/N)’s eyes went wide with shock. She’d never had someone be so blunt and explicit with her— Well, she had, but it wasn’t directed at her. 

“Um, we’re going to a party, Jess…” (Y/N) awkwardly reminded her. 

“I know, but you guys could sneak off somewhere or leave early. People do it all the time.” 

“What about vampires?!” Jubilee interrupted, holding packages of fake fangs in her hands. 

“Oh, that’d be fun! And we could get fake blood too!” Jessie put the angel outfit back on the rack and went to a different area with Jubilee. 

(Y/N) followed behind, thankful for the interruption, but still thinking about Jessie’s comment. 

“If you two do decide to fuck at the party, I want all the details…”

Why did she care so much if Warren and I are having sex?

She tried to focus on other things as Jubilee attempted to change the subject. 

“Fruits? Personally, I’d like to be a strawberry.” 

Jessie laughed, “We’re not in elementary.” Jubilee shrugged before holding up a banana costume and made a suggestive joke. Jessie and (Y/N) laughed at her. 

“I think we should be pink ladies.” Jessie morphed her voice to sound like Olivia Newton-John. 

“From Grease? But that’s so overdone,” Jubilee didn’t like the idea, but it was the first decent one Jessie had all day. 

“I mean, if someone else shows up in the same costume, we’re technically not matching…” (Y/N) said. 

“See?” Jessie smiled. “(Y/N)‘s smart!” 

“Alright, alright, give me some time. I’ll think about it,” Jubilee stated. 

“Trust me; you’ll come around.” 

-

Warren was lying in bed, fast asleep. He’d just showered after training with Mystique and got his ass kicked. Even when he thought he was getting better, he still wasn't as good as her. 

(Y/N) entered the room, excited to tell Warren about her Halloween costume plans. 

Sure, she could have just texted him, but she hadn’t seen him all day. 

“Warren, Angel baby—“ She quickly shut her mouth when she saw him sprawled over his bed, fast asleep. 

She cooed over his sleeping figure, tempted to leave him as he was. 

What if he’s been asleep for hours? Or all morning? It’s still light out, though. I better wake him up anyway.

(Y/N) tapped his shoulder and said his name a few times, trying to get a response from him. 

He slowly stirred in his slumber, waking up from (Y/N)‘s interruption. “Hmm?...”

“Hey, War,” 

“Mmm… what time is it?” 

“3:48.” 

“Join me.” (Y/N) sat on his bed, sitting next to him as he shifted, snuggling next to her, and slowly woke up. “How’d shopping go with Jubilee?” 

“It was alright.” (Y/N) massaged his scalp as she retold her day. “Jessie kept shooting down our ideas and the ones she had Jubilee never really liked, so we didn’t exactly settle on anything…” 

Warren looked up at her. “I thought you guys were going as crayons?” 

“Jessie said no.”

“Why?”

(Y/N) shrugged, “She suggested we go as sexy angels.” 

Warren’s facial expression was piqued with interest, despite him trying not to show it. 

“I said that would be offensive to you, and we’d freeze to death anyway.” 

Warren chuckled, “I’ll be there to keep you warm.”

“Aren’t you gonna be shirtless?” 

“Maybe. I said I might— Roger Taylor didn’t wear a shirt most of the time.” 

Warren was teaming up with Kurt, Scott, and Peter to dress up as Queen, the rock band, for Halloween. 

“You could get sick! It might even rain on Halloween, which will make you even colder!”

“I’ll be fine.” Warren wasn’t too worried. 

“Wear a jacket, please.” 

“I will. I will…”

(Y/N) huffed, “Good… Cause if you don’t, I’ll bring you one, and it will be tacky and ugly and totally ruin your costume.  So you better bring one…” She jokingly threatened. 

Warren chuckled, “Yes, Mom.” (Y/N) laughed at his demeanor. 

Warren looked up at her, lifting his head up, lips puckered. A way of silently asking for a kiss. 

(Y/N) complied, and gave him a peck on the lips. 

“Wanna get some food? I’m kind of hungry.” 

Warren nodded. He finally, and officially, got out of bed since his nap, (Y/N) next to him. 

As they were about to leave his room, a leaf fell from (Y/N)‘s head. 

“You dropped a leaf.” 

She frowned, eyes purple with embarrassment, “That’s the fifth one this week.” 

Warren bent down to pick it up. “It’s fall. I’m surprised you still have a few left.” 

“I’ve still got about a month.” 

The vines wrapped around (Y/N)’s legs and the leaves in her hair were shedding— Just like the trees outside, as the weather dropped and plants prepared for winter. 

Warren took the leaf and set it in a book. He liked to press any of (Y/N)‘s leaves he could get his hands on. 

She thought it was silly, they were just leaves, but Warren liked them. 

(Y/N) rummaged through the fridge for something to eat. 

“I think there’s leftover Chinese from last night,” Warren told her. 

“Yeah, but I don’t want to take those. They aren’t mine.” 

“You can say I ate them. Ororo and Kurt took my pizza after we went to East Village Pizza.” 

“Didn’t you label the box?” 

Warren nodded, “Yeah, but it’s Kurt and Ororo. They ignored it.” 

(Y/N) stifled a laugh as she took out some milk, deciding to make mac and cheese. 

“They’re the only ones who don’t fear me.” He joked. 

“Hey! I’m right here… and besides—“ She turned the stovetop on. “—No one here “fears” you. Not even the little kids. Jamie Donaldson told me he wanted to be you for Halloween.” 

Warren tilted his head slightly in confusion.

The water in the pot had reached a boil and (Y/N) poured the dried noodles into it. “He said you were his hero. That he wanted to be like you when he got older.” 

Warren dismissed it, “His friends are gonna tease him.” 

“I’m sure they already do… he has gills… Deny it all you want, Worthington, but you’re not tough as nails. Underneath the metal, you’re a big softie who cries during The Notebook, and helps Alex teach the second graders.” 

“Babe, everyone cries during the notebook, and I had a free period, and Alex needed help.” 

(Y/N) nodded, “Mmhmm… well, you can’t let Jamie down. It would crush him.” 

“I’m no—“ Warren stopped. 

“You’re no what?” (Y/N) teased nonchalantly. She knew what he was going to say. 

“You’ve trapped me.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“I’m not gonna say it.” 

(Y/N) mixed the milk, butter, and cheese powder in a separate bowl. “Say what?” 

“Oh, so that’s how we’re gonna play it?”

“You’re too hard on yourself! Be honest and caring for once.” (Y/N) pouted. 

“I’m not saying it. It’s dumb and cheesy.” 

“Fine. Then you don’t get any of my mac and cheese.”

“I’ll steal some when you’re not looking.” 

(Y/N) widened her eyes for comical intimidation. “I’m always looking.” 

Warren crossed his arms, “I’m still not going to say it.” 

“Please…” 

“I’m a bad person, (Y/N), I’ve done bad things…”

(Y/N) chuckled lightly, “Isn’t your therapist Brenda helping you not sound like Batman so much?” 

“Yeah.” 

(Y/N) kissed his nose. “Okay, Angel.” 

“(Y/N), I’m not—“

“Yes, you are! Say it.” 

“Fine,” He caved. “I’m an angel.” 

“Say it like you mean it. A positive tone of voice and affirmations improve a plant’s lifestyle and growth.” 

Warren couldn’t deny the small smile on his face, “I’m an angel.” 

(Y/N) squealed and kissed Warren’s lips. His cheeks were red, for he was flustered. 

“Can you get some bowls? Mac and cheese is done.”

“Yeah, sure.” Warren got two bowls and forks for them both and set them on the counter. 

(Y/N) scooped some macaroni into both bowls, then she and Warren sat on the barstools on the other side of the counter and chowed down. 

Jessie entered the kitchen as they ate their food. 

“Hey, (Y/N). Hey, Warren.” 

“Hey, Jessie! I just made some Mac and cheese if you’re hungry.” 

“I’m good, thanks. I don’t really eat carbs.”

“Oh… Okay…” (Y/N) looked down nervously at her bowl, trying to hide her purple eyes.

“Yeah, they just don’t agree with me, ya know?”

(Y/N) nodded, “Yeah, yeah, I don’t really like hot Cheetos.”

“See? We’re practically one and the same.” Jessie smirked.

Warren’s gaze kept shifting between the girls. He was confused at the tone of the conversation. 

“Anyway, I came down here looking for you.” She said to (Y/N). 

“Really? What’s up?” 

“I convinced Jubilee that we should go as pink ladies.” 

“That’s great!” 

Jessie nodded, “We’re gonna get the stuff we need for our costumes tomorrow.” 

“Sounds good to me.” (Y/N) said. 

“Uh, huh… what are you going as for Halloween?” Jessie asked Warren. 

“A few other guys and I are going as Queen.” 

“Ooooo! I love their music.” 

Warren nodded, “Scott’s going as John Deacon, Peter’s going as Brian May, I’m going as Roger Taylor, and Kurt’s going as Freddie Mercury.” 

Her voice shifted to a flawless British accent, “Well, I’m sure you’ll look amazing, darling.”

Warren laughed, “Thanks.” 

“Of course… (Y/N) I’ll talk to you later about Halloween stuff.” 

“Okay. See you later.”

As Jessie sauntered away, Warren was a bit unsettled by Jessie’s attitude but was more worried about his girlfriend.

“You need to eat some carbs…” (Y/N) mumbled. 

“She’s probably just doing some fad diet,” Warren reassured her. 

“I dunno…” 

Warren shrugged and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, “There’s no harm in eating macaroni… and no matter what you do, you’ll always be healthier than Peter.”

“Oh god, yeah,” (Y/N) jokingly grimaced. No offense to Pete’s lifestyle, but consuming only twinkies and Diet Pepsi would not go down well for Mother Nature, or anyone else. 

“I’m gonna save the rest for later.” (Y/N) went through a cabinet looking for some Tupperware. 

“Alright. Want me to put what we didn’t touch in another container?” 

“Sure.” 

—

The girls all grabbed pink ladies jackets and paid for them. 

“I was thinking we wear all black— heels, shirt, and leggings or maybe like a skirt or something.” 

“Heels?!” Jubilee shrieked. “You’re crazy if you think I’m gonna wear heels all night on Halloween.” 

“It’s just for pictures,” Jessie reassured her. “And besides, you’ll kick them off at the door anyway.” 

“Why would I wanna roam around barefoot at a party?” 

“(Y/N)‘s barefoot all the time. To feel one with nature.” 

(Y/N) furrowed her brows, eyes orange. “No, I’m not. I rarely ever do that…” 

Jessie held up her hands in surrender, “Well, I heard it from Nancy Robinson…”

“She’s wrong… I told her I connect easily with plants.” 

“She must have misunderstood.” 

(Y/N) nodded, unsettled. 

“Do you guys wanna go to the mall? There’s this cute little black dress at Forever 21 I wanna get for Halloween.” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

“I need to get some more foundation at Sephora,” Jessie stated. 

“Good, cause we were going anyway.” Jubilee joked threateningly. Jessie and (Y/N) laughed. 

As they walked around the Sephora, Jubilee scanned the isles for blue eyeshadows in different shades. 

“Kurt asked me to do his makeup for Halloween. He wanted some 70s glam rock.” 

“You’re gonna do a great job!” (Y/N) told her. 

“For sure— I’m also doing Warren’s and Peter’s too.” 

“They’re all going to look great. I hope we can get a group photo of them before they get all sweaty and tired out.” 

Jubilee nodded, smiling, while she placed all her items on the counter to be rung up. 

“Why didn’t Warren ask you to do his makeup?” Jessie asked. 

“Oh, uh… I dunno.” (Y/N) shrugged. “I’m not very good at super dramatic glittery looks.” 

“I’m just surprised he didn’t ask you, is all. I thought he would’ve, considering you’re dating.” 

“I mean, he’ll probably ask to borrow my mascara or something... It’s not a big deal.”

Jessie raised her eyebrows in questioning before paying for her foundation. “If Scott was going to wear makeup, I’m sure he’d ask Jean to do it for him.” 

“Scott would just want an excuse for his face to be inches away from Jean’s face, and for her to constantly be gazing into his eyes and glancing at his lips. Until they finally break the tension and spend the whole time making out, and Scott’s still not even wearing any makeup by the end.” Jubilee states. 

“That’s very specific… Also, don’t they kind of do that already, anyway?” (Y/N) asked. 

“Yeah,” Jubilee chuckled. 

“Still, I don’t know why Warren didn’t ask you.” Jessie interrupted. “Maybe you should ask him.” 

(Y/N) nodded, “Yeah, uh, I— I might.” 

—

Warren was lounged on (Y/N)’s bed, focusing on a textbook assignment. 

“Why didn’t you ask me to do your makeup?” 

Warren looked up. “Hmm?”

“Jubilee said you asked her to do your makeup for Halloween… I could’ve done it.” 

“Oh, uh, I mean Kurt asked her to do his, and then Peter asked her, and we both figured why not do mine too? She’s just going to do some eyeliner and highlighter. It’s no big deal.” 

“Oh…” (Y/N)’s eyes flashed purple. 

“Do you want to do my makeup?” 

(Y/N) shook her head, her eyes slightly red and orange. “Never mind… It was stupid… I’m not even that good at makeup…” 

Warren blinked, no longer focused on his homework. “Are you okay?” 

“What? Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” 

“I mean, if you wanna do my makeup, go ahead. I don’t care. If it’s that big of an issue—“

“It’s not an issue. I was just wondering why you didn’t ask me.” 

“I didn’t think you’d want to do my makeup.” 

(Y/N) pursed her lips. He was kind of right. She really couldn’t have cared less— Halloween was proving to be so stressful already. 

“Yeah…” She mumbled. 

“See, problem solved.” 

A weird feeling of tension filled the air. 

Warren and (Y/N) never fought, and they rarely argued or bickered over things that weren’t Warren’s low self-esteem. 

Despite him saying, “Problem solved.” It didn’t feel that way. 

—

Warren barged into Peter and Scott’s room. Inside were Scott, Kurt, and another kid. 

“(Y/N) and I had an argument—“ Warren glanced at the short blonde guy sitting on Scott’s bed. “Who is he?”

“Warren, this is Bobby. Bobby, this is Warren,” Scott introduced. “Bobby’s new, he’s a freshman, and we’re kind of the only guys his age, so he’s just hanging out with us.” 

“Hi,” Bobby awkwardly waved at Warren. 

He waved back, “Hey.” 

“Anyway— what happened with you and (Y/N)?”

Warren sat down on Peter’s bed. “We got into an argument about the dumbest thing…”

Kurt squinted his eyes in confusion, “That’s not— you guys don’t do that… Or is that a normal thing for most American couples? All the fighting and yelling.”

“Okay, first off Blue, you need to stop watching sit-coms with Jean and Jubilee where the middle-aged suburban couple’s hate each other’s guts. Second, we weren’t yelling, and it wasn’t really a fight fight, but there was uncomfortable tension.”

The other three boys were focused solely on Warren, waiting for him to explain more. 

“She like got mad I didn’t ask her to do my makeup for Halloween, but then she wasn’t mad and said she didn’t even want to do my makeup. And like we settled it, but I still felt weird afterward. Almost like we didn’t settle it.” 

Kurt was baffled, unsure of what to say. Scott was taking a moment to formulate a good response, but before he could even open his mouth, Bobby spewed some words of… wisdom.

“(Y/N)— I’m assuming you guys are dating, right?” Warren nodded. 

“Okay… (Y/N) doesn’t care about who’s doing your makeup. She’s upset over something else but is using the makeup as a cover-up. She doesn’t want to admit she’s upset over… whatever she’s upset over, but she’s upset, so little things like, you not asking her if she’d do your makeup, are going to make her like, really mad, even if it seems like they shouldn’t or ordinarily wouldn’t.

You have to get her to talk, or find out from one of her girlfriends, what’s really upsetting her.” 

The other boys left their mouths gaping, blinking in shock. 

“You’re like, fourteen, why’d you give such good advice?” 

Bobby shrugged, “My parents fight a lot. They need a divorce, but they’ll never get one.” 

“I was gonna tell you to apologize…” Scott sheepishly admitted.

“Apologize for what?” 

“I— I don’t know…” 

“She said she was stressed out about Halloween…” Warren confessed. 

“There you go—“ Bobby exclaimed. “—She’ll be fine. Don’t even worry about the little lovers’ quarrel you guys had.” 

Warren nodded, feeling a little bit better about the situation.

He still wanted to talk to (Y/N), though. 

—

“Hey, Jubes!” 

“Oh, hey, Jessie. I was just headed to Bio, what’s up?”

“I heard, a few freshmen girls are going as Pink Ladies for Halloween—“

“And?” Jubilee hugged her binder tight in her arms. 

Jessie huffed, “We just can’t go as the same thing as some freshmen girls!” 

“Why not? Halloween is in two days! We can’t just change our costumes at the last minute.” 

“Jubes, we’ll look like freshmen. We can’t have that!” Jubilee opened her mouth to object, but Jessie didn’t let her. 

“(Y/N), and I already agreed we should switch. We’re going to go as the plastics from Mean Girls.” Jessie’s voice had shifted to sound like Rachel McAdams. “I’m gonna be Regina, and (Y/N) will be Karen.” 

“Okay, that’s fine. I can go return my jacket.” 

“Yeah!” Jessie grinned. “Plus you can wear your shirt that says “On Wednesdays we wear pink! Perfect!” 

Jubilee smiled, “Yeah… Well, uh, I gotta go—“ She motioned to the door. 

“Right! Don’t wanna make you tardy. I’ll see you later!” 

“See ya.” 

Weird, Jubilee thought to herself as she took a seat in Dr. McCoy’s classroom. But not unusual for Jessie, always changing her mind… She’s so wishy-washy on things… Oh well.

—

(Y/N) was quickly trying to finish her makeup and get dressed so she could help the little kids trick or treat. 

Older students could volunteer to take the younger one’s trick or treating until 9, and then if they wanted, they could go to whatever house party the locals from the public school in the area were hosting. 

Luckily for the X-Men, Jubilee was extremely popular with the public schoolers, and they were invited to most house parties.

Ororo had already left, for she had just worn a unicorn onesie she borrowed from Peter. 

“I think this is his sister’s, but hey! It’s comfy.” 

“You look great!” (Y/N) only glanced at Ororo, for she was worried about her own look for the night.

“Thanks, I’m sure you’re going to look great too. Don’t sweat it… you have a half-hour left.”

“I’ll meet you downstairs with the others!” 

“Sounds good to me.” 

The others being Scott, Jean, Kurt, and Warren. Jubilee, Peter, and Jessie had decided to skip the trick-or-treat assist and go straight to partying. 

Warren knocked on (Y/N)’s door, asking if she was ready. 

She opened it and stepped out. 

Warren glanced up and down, checking her out. She looked good. Then again, she always looked good. 

(Y/N) did the same, checking her boyfriend out. Maybe I should have gone as a slutty angel to compensate… Warren looks… hot.

Tight leather pants, a sparkly fringed vest with nothing underneath— showing off his toned abs— his classic, worn-out combat boots, and his makeup. Jubilee did an excellent job with it. 

Her eyes were magenta. 

Warren kissed her cheek. “You look great, babe!” 

“Uh… thanks… um… you— you…”

Warren chuckled, “I look stupid, don’t I?”

“No! No— you look, whatever the opposite of stupid is… Stupidly hot, maybe…” (Y/N) felt like a pile of mush. 

And for what? Warren in tight pants, no shirt, and black lines on his face? That was a regular Tuesday look for him. 

“Maybe?” He teased. (Y/N) avoided eye contact, her eyes a vibrant purple.

Warren intertwined one of his hands with her and kissed her cheek again. “You’re adorable.” 

“Thanks…” 

—

The gang made their way to the party a little after 9. It was in full swing by then, with loud music vibrating the outdoors. It just got amplified as they walked in. 

“I’m gonna look for Peter,” Warren told (Y/N). 

“I’m gonna try to find Jubilee and Jessie, get some group photos.” They parted ways, agreeing to meet up again later. 

(Y/N) got distracted along the way— she danced to the Monster Mash with Jean and Kurt, helped with any trick or treaters that came to the door, (despite it not being her house), and she took a few photos with a group of freshmen also dressed up as pink ladies. 

“Where are they?” 

She spotted Jubilee’s big mop of black curls and quickly made her way over.

“Oh my gosh! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” 

Jubilee and (Y/N) stared at each other, both extremely puzzled.

“Um…”

“Uh…” 

“I thought we were going as pink ladies?”

“I thought we switched to The Plastics.” 

“What?” (Y/N) asked.

Jubilee took a sip from her cup, “Jessie told me you guys agreed on us switching to the plastics cause a bunch of freshmen were going as pink ladies.” 

“She never said anything to me bout going as the plastics. I haven’t seen her in like, two days.”

“What?” Jubilee was beyond confused. 

“Yeah, I thought we were still all going as pink ladies. I even saw the freshmen you’re talking about, and they took photos with me!”

“That’s nice…” 

“Why didn’t you clear this up with me, Jubes?” (Y/N) asked, her eyes slowly turning grey. 

“I thought Jessie did. I was busy trying to scope out a good place to crash and party at.”

(Y/N) crossed her arms, “Where is Jessie, anyway?” 

“I think she’s in the kitchen.” 

—

Warren was trying to have fun at the party. He didn’t drink as he did in Germany, so everything just seemed less exciting… but with his friends, they never failed to disappoint. 

He wanted to find Peter so they could get group pictures before a group of girls swarmed Kurt, fawning over his accent, soft blue fur, and gymnast body. Before Scott gave a little pep talk on safety to whichever friends would listen and then run off to make out with Jean in the nearest bathroom. And then he wanted to spend time with his girlfriend. 

He found Kurt, no problem— but finding their Brian and John was proving much more difficult. 

“Maybe Peter shouldn’t have worn a wig. We usually spot him due to his grey hair.”

“Then it wouldn’t go with the costume,” Kurt pointed out. “And the whole group would look out of place.” 

“I guess so…” Warren spotted Scott as they walked into the kitchen. He was talking to the new kid— Bobby— with Jean next to him. “Let’s get Scott.” 

Kurt waved at the group, and they motioned him over. 

“Hey, guys! This is Bobby,” Jean introduced.

“We already met,” Warren explained. “Have you seen Peter?” 

Jean shook her head. 

“I think I saw him—“ Bobby spoke up while filling up a cup from the “monster mix” punch bowl. “He had on a big curly brown wig…?” 

Kurt nodded, “Ja, that’s him!” 

Bobby handed Kurt and Warren cups. Warren sighed quietly to himself. He didn’t want a drink of some mystery liquid. He knew there was probably alcohol— Bobby probably didn’t, though— the kid was a freshman. Warren didn’t have time to refuse it though, for Bobby told Kurt where he last saw Peter, and then— bamf!

Kurt teleported him and Warren to that same place. The backyard. 

Warren felt a little nauseated— he hadn’t eaten anything all night except for a few pieces of candy, and the smell of sulfur was disgusting. 

Peter ran up to them and quickly noticed Warren’s turmoil. 

“Oh, dude! Here— drink up—“ He quickly put Warren’s cup in his mouth and almost forced him to drink up the “monster mix.” 

“Peter—“ Kurt scolded. “That’s not water!”

Peter’s face paled. “Oh shit. Shit! Dude, I’m sorry— I thought— cause you don’t drink—“

“Bobby gave it to me… He doesn’t know any better. I can handle myself. It’s one drink.” 

Peter almost scoffed at the mention of Bobby. “Who invited him?”

“Probably, Scott.” 

“Why?”

“I dunno… Make him feel included, I guess…”

“You good?” Kurt asked Warren. 

He nodded, “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Let’s get Scott… Come on…”

They decided to walk back to the kitchen, like ordinary people.

Bobby was gone, but Scott was still there, along with Jean, and Ororo was there too this time. 

“Did Bobby give you the monster mix?” Peter asked.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, dude— I had like three cups of it, and I feel a little tipsy— I think— but dude! I’m so sorry—“

“Peter, it’s fine. It just burned a little going down. It was only one drink— I’ll be fine. Stop worrying.” 

“Okay…” 

“Hey! You found him.” Jean smiled. “Photo time!” 

Everyone smiled and got into various poses and huddled little groups to take many silly pictures— many of them not even ending up on the group’s Instagrams— but still fun nonetheless. Jean telekinetically held up her phone so that everyone could be included in the pictures. 

Warren could feel himself getting a little tipsy as they kept taking photos, but he ignored it. 

“Oh my god! Warren!” It was Jessie. Not in a pink ladies costume. 

Weird… 

“(Y/N)’s been looking for you— come on, I’ll take you to her.” She grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the kitchen. 

He squinted his eyes, puzzled as to what was going on. 

They were walking upstairs. 

“Where are we going?” 

“Upstairs.”

It was dark. 

Warren couldn’t see the figure in front of him too well anymore.

The highly spiked drink he had was starting to get to him.

The voice sounded like (Y/N)’s. 

“You— You sounded like, (Y/N).” 

She giggled lightly, “I am (Y/N), silly.” 

“Oh.” 

She led him upstairs into an empty room. The lights were off. He still couldn’t see her very well. 

“Angel, baby,” She cooed. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too.” He went to go and turn on a light, but she stopped him. 

“Leave them off… I wanna have fun tonight…” 

“Oh?” Is she talking about earlier, before we left the mansion? Has she been drinking? I would like to do stuff but—

“Mmhmm…” She kissed his neck and kept kissing him, leading up to his lips. He kissed her back, hands on her until they got near her neck— he wanted to tug on her hair a little, but upon touching it, he realized something was wrong.

He didn’t have time to figure it out, though, for someone opened the door. 

Warren and the other person turned to see who it was. 

It was Jubilee and (Y/N). 

—

“Have you seen Jessie?” (Y/N) asked. 

Her friends in the kitchen eyed her and Jubilee up, confused— weren’t they supposed to go as the same thing for Halloween? 

“Um, she was just here. She said you were looking for Warren, and then they went upstairs.”

Jubilee glanced at (Y/N) nervously. That wasn’t a good sign. 

“Thanks.” (Y/N) and Jubilee headed upstairs to find the two. 

Once they got to the top of the stairs, they walked around, trying to open every door they could to no prevail. 

“Wait— Shh!” Jubilee whispered. She motioned to a door they hadn’t opened yet. 

(Y/N) didn’t waste any time opening the door. 

She wished she did, though.

Because she saw them.

Warren and Jessie, so close together. It looked like they had been kissing moments ago. 

When Warren’s eyes met (Y/N)’s, she felt sick to her stomach. He looked lost, confused even. 

He looked almost terrified. 

—

Warren looked over at the girl who he thought was (Y/N). The light from the open door revealed it was Jessie. 

Warren started internally panicking. He kissed Jessie thinking it was (Y/N)! 

She can change her voice to sound like whoever she wants! How could I think— So stupid of me! 

He looked over at (Y/N), trying to form words to say. Her eyes— they’d turned completely black. He couldn’t tell her iris and pupil apart. They’d never been pitch black before. 

“(Y/N)! Jubilee! Thank goodness! I was looking for you guys—“ 

“No, you weren’t… What’s going on?” 

“Warren’s drunk he thought I was you and he tried to come onto me—“

“No, I didn’t!” (Y/N) glared at Warren meticulously, making him shut up.

“He kissed me! Can you believe it?! He couldn’t tell his own girlfriend apart from me, and he was forceful!” Jessie stepped away from him in “fear.” 

“You’re lying— I would never—“

(Y/N) wasn’t even paying attention anymore. Everyone could see that. 

“I’m going home.” 

“What? (Y/N)—“ 

She glared at Jessie, “Fuck off. I don’t want to talk to you anymore. And you—“ She looked at Warren. She felt her heart breaking, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. She didn’t know what to think, and she was so tired. “We’ll talk about this later. I’m leaving.” 

“(Y/N)—“ 

—

She took a ride home with the freshmen girls. They didn’t ask why she needed one or why her eyes were all black. 

(Y/N) wasn’t in the mood to answer them anyway. 

How could he do this? It doesn’t feel right! But Jessie— Jessie wouldn’t lie to me. Would she?

She was snapped out of her thought when one of the girls gasped. 

“Look! Look at all the plants! They’re all dead! Even the carved pumpkins are rotting.” 

“Yeah, Lily, that’s what plants do—“

“No, look!” Everyone looked through the car window, shocked by what they saw. 

(Y/N) took one look at the dead plants and started shaking. She didn’t have the strength to bring them back to good health. 

It worried her, but her mind kept focusing on Warren…

—

Jubilee dragged her friends outside to the front yard. She had Jean use her powers to keep them from running off anywhere. 

A few people were watching, but she couldn’t have cared less.

“Okay! What the hell happened? And none of the bullshit you told (Y/N) earlier! I know you took Warren upstairs, Jess. I know you didn’t tell (Y/N) we changed our group costume at the last minute, and I usually don’t say this kind of stuff, and I've held it back for (Y/N)’s sake, especially since she felt bad for you! And asked if you could do a group costume with us.” Jubilee was practically fuming, sparks almost igniting in her hands. 

“You’re kind of a bitch.” 

“Jubilee! Warren tried to fuck me! He was drunk and not acting right, and he started kissing me and stuff!”

“Warren doesn’t drink!” 

Kurt glanced at Peter and Scott before speaking up, “Warren had one drink…”

“Okay? That’s not going to get him shitfaced enough to fuck you!” Jubilee stared at Warren, trying to see if he’d finally speak.    

“I was a little tipsy, and Jessie said you and (Y/N) were upstairs. It got dark, and I thought I heard (Y/N) talking to me, but I think it was just Jess. She started kissing me, and it took me a minute, but I realized it wasn’t (Y/N). Then you guys came in.”

Everyone was in shock about Warren’s side of the story. 

“Isn’t it illegal to lie about this kind of stuff… and to kiss someone without consent?” Kurt whispered to Scott.

“Probably.” 

“He’s lying!” Jessie exclaimed. 

“Jean, read my mind. Read Jessie’s. I’m not lying!”

“He’s a monster! Why should you believe him?!” Jessie spat.

Warren was disgusted by her words. “You tried to fuck me!” 

“And with all your weird questions and comments about their sex life, I’m not surprised you kissed Warren,” Jubilee stated angrily.

“He kissed me back!” 

“He thought you were someone else!” 

“Guys! Shut up!” Jean told them. “I’m trying to focus!” 

She dove into Warren’s mind to see the events play out before her. She did the same when in Jessie’s mind. 

“Warren was telling the truth.”

—

As (Y/N) walked into her room, every plant in there withered and died. 

Typically, she’d fall to the ground and sob for accidentally killing what she practically considered her children, but she felt too numb. She kicked off her shoes and flopped onto her bed. The vines around her bed didn’t even move out of her way. They were lifeless and still, just like her.

(Y/N) was restless trying to sleep. She only slept for about fifteen minutes, and when she awoke, she was covered in ivy… poison ivy. 

Most of the time, when she was restless, she’d grow a watermelon or a pumpkin in her sleep, but this was new. She didn’t want to spread it to Ororo or let her see that she killed all the plants in the room. 

She grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, scribbling down a note for Ororo, telling her what happened and for her to not come in until the ivy went away, and it was safe. 

She quickly tapped the note to the door and locked herself inside. 

The rest of the gang quickly headed home. They didn’t notice all the decaying plants outside. 

Scott parked in the garage. 

“Hey, Kurt…”

“Ja, Ororo?”

“I need to check on some of the plants in the attic. I didn’t have enough time to water them all before we went out. Can you take me up there?” 

Kurt nodded, “Yeah, of course.” 

They were gone in the blink of an eye. 

Everyone else was lingering around, deciding on what to do. 

“I’m going to go talk to (Y/N)—“

A blood piercing scream interrupted Warren’s words. 

“Oh my god! Is that Ororo?” 

“I think so!” 

Jean used her telepathic powers to see what was wrong. 

“All the plants… they’re dead!” 

“Jean, check the fridge. See if the fruits and vegetables are alright,” Xavier instructed.

She opened the fridge, and to her horror, the produce rotted.

“But— I went with Sean and Raven to the grocery store two days ago! It shouldn’t have all gone bad.” Peter was puzzled.

“Do you think it was (Y/N)?” Jubilee asked. 

“I’m gonna go talk to her.” Warren head off to her dorm room. 

He felt so guilty and heartbroken. Even though it technically wasn’t his fault, he felt pathetic for not being able to tell his girlfriend apart from a stranger in the dark. 

He kissed Jessie! Nothing was going to undo that. 

Warren stopped at (Y/N)’s door, about to knock, but he was distracted by the note on it. He removed it off the door and read it. 

“I’m not feeling great right now, and I accidentally grew some poison ivy when I took a nap. I’m trying to get it to go away, but for now, people shouldn’t come in. I don’t want it to spread around. Also, I killed all the plants in our room. They’re going to be fine, but for now, I can’t help them.”

Warren knocked on the door, holding the note in his hand. “(Y/N)?” 

“You can’t come in here.” 

“Can you open the door?” He pleaded. 

“No, you can’t get close to me. The ivy came from me. I don’t want it to spread.”

“I won’t come in.” 

“Warren,” She cried. “Can’t you just wait?!” 

“I want— I need you to know what actually happened.”

It was silent from (Y/N)’s side of the door.

“(Y/N)?...” 

She didn’t respond, but Warren heard her unlocking and opening the door. He took a few steps back to respect her boundaries and commands. 

He took in her appearance. She switched from her pink ladies outfit to some pajamas. She didn’t wash her makeup off makeup, so it smeared all over her face.

Her hair was messy and her eyes… her eyes were pitch black. 

“I went to go look for Peter. I looked in the kitchen and didn’t see him. The new kid— Bobby— he gave me a drink, and I didn’t know how to explain I didn’t want it. Kurt teleported me to the back porch when we got word Peter was outside. I hadn’t eaten anything since lunch, so I felt a little sick. Peter came over to us and noticed I looked bad and had me force down whatever was in my cup. He assumed it was water or something else non-alcoholic, cause I don’t drink.”

“I was like, ‘this is fine. It’s one drink of vodka, cranberry sprite, some hooch, and like whatever else was in the monster mix.’ Then we took photos in our Queen costumes and goofed around for an hour. I was getting a little tipsy, but I didn’t think it was that bad. Jessie came in, saying you were looking for me. And she just dragged me upstairs. It was extremely dark, and my brain was getting a little fuzzy, and Jessie shifted her voice to sound like yours… She led me into a dark room and said she wanted to like, hook up, or do stuff. I tried to explain to her I’d been drinking, but she started kissing me before I could.” 

(Y/N) stood on the other side of the door, listening inventively to Warren. 

“I kissed her back. Then I realized it wasn’t you— it didn’t feel right— and then you walked in.” 

(Y/N) sighed. She was sure he was telling the truth. Their friends wouldn’t let him come up and see her otherwise. 

“I am so sorry…” 

“Yeah, um… Jessie’s kind of… kind of mean. But like— I just— I got so upset because of a lot of different things. Um, Jessie had been asking and saying stuff about our relationship— saying like, we should have sex after the party, I should hoe it up more, or trying to get me to accuse you of not trusting me cause you didn’t ask me to do your makeup… and I just thought she was being weird or whatever, cause like, those were the vibes she’d given me almost all the time. I never thought she simply wouldn’t like me. Especially since I asked if she wanted to do a group costume with Jubilee and me… and I just—“ (Y/N) scrunched her nose. “I don’t let stuff like that get to me, but… but I’m so inexperienced, and you’re not. I don’t really care if people talk about whatever they do behind closed doors. I don’t care about that… I just don’t want people interpreting that I’m like the Virgin Mary, or there’s a problem in our relationship, cause there’s not. There’s not!” 

(Y/N) started crying. She was crying and shivering, and poison ivy started growing and wrapping itself around her body. 

“I’m not mad at you. I just…” She sighed. 

“...Am I not enough?”

“What?” Warren was confused.

“Would you leave me for her? Or anyone else?”

“No. Never— I should have done more, I shouldn’t have followed her or let myself believe it was you— I’m so fucking stupid.” 

Her voice was stern. “No. You’re not stupid. I just… I just need some time to think and be alone right now.”

“Whatever you want,” Warren nodded timidly. “I’ll tell Ororo she needs to sleep with Jean and Jubilee for the night… Although I doubt she’ll leave the attic.” 

“What happened in the attic?”

“All the plants in the attic died… She’s extremely torn up about it… (Y/N)?”

(Y/N) zoned out a little, her heart was pounding heavily in her chest, she was sweating, quivering, and all she could focus on was how she killed everything. Everything she loved and touched, she destroyed it. She couldn’t control herself, and she was hurting the world around her. She heard Warren yelling her name, but she couldn’t find herself to respond. Her breath was quick and eradicating. 

Warren was trying his best to respect her wishes by not coming to close, but he had to help her. 

“(Y/N)— (Y/N), baby, look at me, look at me,” Warren stepped closer to her. “Sit down, sit down, okay?” He helped her sit down on the ground. She leaned against the right side of the doorframe. 

“Um, I need you to— I need you to focus on my voice. Focus on me, okay?” 

“I just— my entire life—“ She broke into a sob. 

“Hey, hey, hey, you’re okay. The plants are going to be okay. We’re going to get through this. I need you to breathe. Focus on my breathing, okay?” 

“I can’t!” The ivy from her body was overgrowing rapidly, clinging onto Warren. 

“Yes, you can. Just focus, you’re going to be okay.” He put one of his hands on her arm to stop her from shaking. Her muscles tensed at first, but they slowly relaxed under his touch.

“You’re doing good, just breathe in slowly, okay? Copy me—“ Warren slowly inhaled air. (Y/N) tried to copy him, but it didn’t help her out. The ivy kept growing around the two of them, getting tight as it tangled between them. 

Warren had to move closer to (Y/N), to try and make more space. He wrapped his arms around her body. The out of control vines caused his grip to tighten on her. 

The feelings of his arms pressing against her helped (Y/N) focus in on something.  

“(Y/N)? Hey, it’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay. Close your eyes and just focus on my voice, okay? Can you do that for me?”  

“I…” (Y/N) felt dizzy and nauseous like it was just piling up inside her. 

Warren coaxed her into slowing her breathing down, but her heart was pounding. Every breath she took felt shaky. 

Yet, the ivy slowed down, wrapping itself around Warren and (Y/N) like old stone walls. 

She was slightly shaking still, but her mind wasn’t getting as overwhelmed anymore.

“Hey, hey… Sweetheart, it’s okay. You’re going to be okay… the ivy stopped. It’s okay.” 

“It— it did?” 

Warren nodded, “Uh, huh. Everything’s going to be alright.” (Y/N) slowly stopped shaking and buried herself into Warren’s chest. 

“Do you want to get some water or maybe take a shower?” 

“Um, yeah, but I can’t— I can’t get rid of the poison ivy… Like I can’t—“

“That’s okay. We can just leave it.”

“Oh, okay…” 

“Let’s go shower in my room, okay?” 

She nodded. 

“Can you walk, okay?” He asked her. 

“Um, I think— I don’t know— I’m sorry.” 

“Hey, no, no, no. It’s okay. I can carry you.” 

Warren carefully scooped her up in his arms. He looked at her once over before heading to his room. 

He set her down on the edge of his bed. “Do you want me to help you get undressed?” 

“I can do it.” She answered in a small voice. 

Warren nodded, “Okay, I’m gonna get undressed too.” 

Warren didn’t face her as he stripped off what little clothing he had on and threw it in a small pile. 

“Is it okay if I take my underwear off?” (Y/N) nervously asked. 

“Yeah, we’re going to shower. It’s okay.” 

(Y/N) left her clothes on Warren’s bed. She slowly got up, and Warren quickly rushed to her aide. She used him for support as they walked into his bathroom. 

He turned the shower on and let it heat up for a minute before stepping in. 

(Y/N) leaned against Warren’s chest as the water rained on them both. 

“Is the water warm enough? Is it too hot?” 

“It’s fine,” She mumbled. 

Warren nodded, understanding she didn’t really want to talk. 

He grabbed his shampoo from the edge of the tub and poured some into his hands. Warren rubbed his hands together before massaging the shampoo into (Y/N)’s hair. It was hard to rake through, her hair was thick and tangled, but he tried his best. 

He applied a little conditioner to her ends. (Y/N) hummed against his chest. 

He chuckled to himself, “You asleep?”

“Mhmm…” She half-heartedly replied.  

“Wanna go to bed?” He asked. (Y/N) nodded, and Warren felt it against his chest.

He washed the conditioner out of her hair and turned the water off. 

He grabbed a towel and helped (Y/N) dry off. When he finished, (Y/N) sat on the edge of the tub and watched Warren dry off. 

His eyes caught (Y/N)’s in the mirror. She looked better than before, a bit more relaxed, but still nervous. 

“I’m really sorry for what happened at the party…”

“I’m sorry about… you know…” 

Warren nodded, “Yeah, um, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. And, and I’m here for you— always. If you want to talk about it, or not.”

“Same goes for you.” 

Warren nodded, “Yeah, yeah, um, let me get us some clothes.” Warren stepped out of the bathroom for a moment. 

He gave (Y/N) one of his much larger sweatshirts without holes in the back and a pair of boxers. “Is this okay?” He asked. 

“Yeah, um, these are fine. Thanks.”

Warren nodded and stepped out of the bathroom again, so (Y/N) could get dressed in private. 

Warren was planning to sleep on the floor for (Y/N)’s sake, as not to make her uncomfortable, but she objected to it.

“I… I don’t want to be alone.” 

“I’m right here,” Warren was quick to wrap (Y/N) up in his arms, having them both get under the blankets on his bed. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? You’re safe…” 

“Promise?” She asked, looking up at him. Her eyes weren’t entirely black anymore, but they were very gray. He could have sworn they were pink for a moment, but they were just grey. 

“I promise.” 

(Y/N) was reassured by his words and snuggled into Warren’s chest. His wings wrapped around them, almost like a cocoon. 

“Can… Can you kiss me, please?” (Y/N) asked. “Just like, my forehead or something…” 

“Of course.” Warren laid a small kiss on the top of her head before whispering, “Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight, Angel.”

[bewareofchris]

dear SPN writers

look, if you want to do an epilogue do it a few years down the line

They've both moved on.  Sam has become a sort of Bobby-esque figure, always with the knowing of things and answering phones pretending to be the FBI and whatnot.  He's married to Eileen and they have a successful idek tourist trap business

something ridiculous for the laughs

No kids, but they are evidently happy.  We can concentrate on how he helps young hunters by having one show up at his kitschy golf course off the interstate to ask for assistance and then that hunter can be like, I'm so sorry but are you like THE Sam Winchester?  How's your brother?  Do you still talk to him?  Oh my god tell me everything

and Sam's like, wry chuckle yes the Sam Winchester but lets concentrate on getting you set up for this fight.

They go through the motions of figuring out how to defeat the thing that's troubling people.  The guy keeps asking questions about what happened right after they saved the world, if he's ever seen Jack again, if any of those things really happened

and it ends with the dude being like, ok I just need a signature

and Sam waves him off like, ah youth

and then he goes inside, and the music gets kind of sad. sort of nostalgic, and Sam wavers around the phone

and Eileen is just like, oh my god call him already oh my god stop with your frickle-fracking face

and you, the audience, start to worry that Something Has Happened.  And you're like, OH MY GOD WHAT HAS BECOME OF DEAN

but Sam just kind of sighs and picks up the phone and he dials and your HEARTBEAT IS RISING but then the screen changes to Cas picking up the phone

Inexplicably he's dressed in mechanics coveralls, his nametag says 'Jimmy' and there's absolutely no sign that he's ever touched a vehicle even the most passing sense

Sam is like: Cas!  It's always so good to hear your  voice, how are you Cas is like: I love chit-chat, this is just time-killer but lets throw in some clunky dialogue explaining that I enjoy being alive. Sam: probably asks if he's heard from Jack, maybe a random ringing bell or a strange letter sent in the mail, IDK how God 2.0 communicates with his adoptive father. Cas: is like, everything is amazing.  Jack is well.  I'm fucking fantastic because I'm not fucking dead.

and then Sam is like: hey is he around (BECAUSE VAGUE for reasons nobody understands) Cas is like: lololol you know he's always under the hood of a car

and then we get to walk outside with the phone to get a gratuitous shot of Dean looking hot while working on a car while Eye of the Tiger plays in the background on the radio

he's working on Baby so we don't have to worry about the fact that he's probably got a beer resting on some part of the car while he rubs some car part with a rag and he's got grease on his fingers and his hair is longer and lightly tousled and he smiles like the sun rising over the horizon when he sees Cas

Dean: who is it Cas: your brother Dean, takes the phone: "Hey Sammy,"

AND THAT IS HOW YOU WRITE A FUCKING SATISFYING FUCKING FINALE

[itisthefuturethattheybring]

Here are some that remind me of (some of) les Amis de L’ABC

Enjolras:

Centuries: fall out boy

The Phoenix: fall out boy

Any other way: we the kings

Gladiator: Zayde Wølf

Run boy run: woodkid

The other side: woodkid

Man on a mission: oh the larceny

Daniel in the den: Bastille

Weight of living pt1: Bastille

Play with fire: Sam Tinnesz

Go to war: nothing more

Go the distance: Samantha Barks (cover)

Forever young: Becky Hill (cover)

Riot: Mikky Ekko

Place for us: Mikky Ekko

Watch me rise: Mikky Ekko

Vienna: Ben Platt (cover)

The cave: Mumford & sons

Hurricane: thirty seconds to Mars

Kings and queens: thirty seconds to mars

This is war: thirty seconds to mars

Marchin on: OneRepublic

Warriors: imagine Dragons

Revolution: the score

Grantaire:

Adore: Dean Lewis

Time to go: Dean Lewis

Icarus: Bastille

Get home: Bastille

Things we lost in the fire (Abbey Road Sessions): Bastille

Of the night: Bastille

Slip away: Mumford & sons

Believe: Mumford & sons

Lover of the light: Mumford & sons

Not with haste: Mumford & sons

Hopeless wonderer: Mumford & sons

When I look at you: Diego Fragnaud (cover)

One of the drunks: panic!at the disco

Golden: Harry Styles

On my own: Shan Ako

100 suns: Thirty seconds to mars

Achilles come down: gang of youths

jean Prouvaire:

Wings: birdy

The district sleeps alone tonight: birdy

Come alive: greatest showman

A million dreams: the greatest showman

Poet: Bastille

The silence: Bastille

Laura Palmer: Bastille

Flowers: Hadestown (Eva Noblezada)

If I die young: Sam Tsui (cover)

One song glory: Aaron Tveit (cover)

So will I: Ben Platt

Soldier on: The temper trap

Young Volcanoes: fall out boy

After the storm: Mumford & sons

Courfeyrac:

Talk too much: Coin

Share your address: Ben Platt

I’m born to run: American authors

Ready to run; one direction

Life in colour: OneRepublic

High hopes: panic!at the disco

Crazy=genius: panic!at the disco

Say amen (Saturday night): panic!at the disco

Roaring 20’s: panic!at the disco

House of memories: panic!at the disco

Immortals: Fall our boy

Guiding light: Mumford & sons

I will wait: Mumford & sons

This side of paradise: coyote theory

Smile: Mikky Ekko

Glory and gore: Lorde

A sky full of stars: Coldplay

Work song: Hozier

Little league: Conan Gray

Where you’ll be: Clockmaker’s Daughter (Fra fee & Christine Allado)

Could have been me: the struts

Everybody wants to rule the world: Lorde

Combeferre:

Death and all his friends: Coldplay

Yellow: Coldplay

The scientist: Coldplay

All that’s known: Jonathon Groff

Can’t go back: the weepies

To love like this again: Andrew Austin

Nine in the afternoon: panic!at the disco

The end of all things: panic!at the disco

Lethargy: Bastille

We fight: Dashboard Confessionals

Seize the day: Newsies

Marius:

I lived: OneRepublic

Empty chairs at empty chairs: Rob Houchen

A heart full of love: Lily Kerhoas, Rob Houchen, Shan Ako

These streets: Bastille

Weight of living ptII: Bastille

Poet: Bastille

Pompeii: Bastille

Even the darkness has arms: the barr brothers

To build a wall: Will Varley

Sign of the times: Harry Styles

IDK you yet: Alexander 23

Come what may: moulin rouge (Aaron Tveit and Karen Olivo)

42: Coldplay

Champion: fall out boy

Éponine:

This is gospel: panic!at the disco

Impossible year: panic!at the disco

When you were young: the killers

This is your life: the killers

Irresistible: fall out boy

Born to die: Lana del Ray

White blank page: Mumford & sons

Say something: a great big world & Christina Aguilera

Someone like you: Lucy Thomas (cover)

The letter: Andrew Osenga

Eponine: penny & sparrow

I’m not that girl: wicked (Idina Menzel)

Oblivion: Bastille

Hopelessly devoted to you: Grease live! (Julianne Hough)

On my own: Shan Ako

A little fall of rain: Shan Ako & Rob Houchen

Heather: Conan Gray

Feuilly:

Carrying the banner: Newsies

Once and for all: Newsies

7 years: Lukas Graham

Weight of living ptII: Bastille

Get home: Bastille

Sleepsong: Bastille

The boxer (ft Mumford & sons): Jerry Douglas

Below my feet: Mumford & sons

Train wreck: James Arthur

King of the clouds: Panic!at the disco

Mercenary: panic!at the disco

Working man: Imagine Dragons

BONUS:

Enjoltaire:

Flaws: Bastille

Overjoyed: Bastille

Haunt (demo): Bastille

Laughter lines: Bastille

Skulls: Bastille

In case you don’t live forever: Ben Platt

Little lion man: Mumford & sons

After the storm: Mumford & sons

Hopeless wanderer: Mumford & sons

42: Mumford & sons

Awake my soul: Mumford & sons

All I ask: Adele

Far too young to die: panic!at the disco

Secrets: OneRepublic

Don’t give up on me: Andy Grammer

The other side: Conan Gray

Dangerous night: thirty seconds to Mars

Mourning doves: Mikky Ekko

[numbaoneflaya]

so we know your thoughts on the piss wolf. what about the other characters in btd. what do you think of them. 💋

OOOOO ok lets go here we go from fav to not least fav. Kind of drunk writing this lets GOOO

1-pisswolf. Mi amore. Beloved asshole mc.dickface. Genuine Rascal 

2. Akira. He has this spot bcs of dollmaker and i suggest playing it 2 get 2 kno him better. :( also he might be vincent (?) so like, that also gives him a boost. Will never forgive sano for ruining our happy ending >:( I think he is very cute when he locks u in that closet <33

3. Ren!! Hes adorable and obsessive and genuinely sweet and i want 2 protect him from all harm and also have him nail me in the basement with that nailgun. Good for torture bcs u kno hes gonna give u a bubble bath and massage after  and not just let u bleed out <3 Love the endings where he eats ur heart or chokes u to death w the chain, hes baby no matter what. He gets points for killing lawrence bcs he looked sexy doing it. 100% MALEWIFE

4- Strade. I cant help my affection for the grease guy he's just so entertaining and also sexy even if he is 5’8. He has a great sense of humor and he’ll crack a lot of jokes while peeling ur skin off, i like that in a man. I also appreciate his taste in shock collars and carving technique and just his general jovial assholery. Worst pet owner ever, should be banned from all petsmarts.

5- Sano. IDK, i just find this guy funny even though hes not. Imagine being tortured to death in a lab by an evil snake twink who doesnt even have a medical license. I would like him more and can deal with most of his shenanigans except for that one ending after you have a threesome w him and akira and akira convinces him to let u go, and then sano puts that fucking. Bug in ur body that does mind control or whatever. That was just rude and mean for absolutely no reason at all and it STOPPED ME FROM HAVING A HAPPY ENDING WITH AKIRA so the snake twink must suffer for that.

6- Lawrence. I think his character is really interesting and he kinda cute in the weird neighbor who lives in the apartment next to you but youve never seen him do ONE load of laundry and who never speaks to you,  and looks like he has a hipster noiseband he plays shitty guitar in. Hes cute (and tall)  and I vibe with his whole shyness thing and the river (which i love the concept of) but he DOES fuck dead bodies and smell like rotting flesh, so i have to deduct points for that. Even worse, he has a ponytail. 

7. Rire. Again, i do love him, but i gotta roast his ass and i know i would not survive. I like my killers to have a little of a soft side and hes just all mean lean traps ur soul in a jar machine. BONUS points for the tentacles which i didnt know i was into before, but minus for the sunglasses which he wears indoors. Also has a ponytail and i cannot abide by it. (I also did work really hard to get his ‘survival’ ending and might be kinda salty i did all that just to be trapped in the MLP cum jar on top of his radiator for all eternity) 

8- cain. Im gonna kick this guys ass. IDK why fully but he looks like a rooster and he tells me to call him daddy and thats absolutely not happening. I get the whole angsty driven from god thing and i suppose he does have a little of a soft side from the ending where he turns u into a fallen angel or whatever, but no thanks. Im gonna shave his head in his sleep. Hes like 98038 years old why does he dye his hair with hot topic hairdye 

[bush-viper-cutie]

At Least – DAY 7

Pairing: none. Just fifth year snape

Word Count: 995

Rating: E for Everyone

Plot: Severus has a nightmare.

Warnings: none

A/N: Day seven! nightmare from snapetober! HAPPY SPOOKTOBER! >:D (Sorry if the ‘keep reading’ cut is not working! Not sure why or if its only me seeing that but I can’t get it to work so... :c idk)

Posted: 10/7/20

Masterlist

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

Spinners End was quiet, save for the rush of the river in the distance and the whispers of the winds through the bare tree branches of the few left standing. The doors of every house began to rattle on their hinges and windows creaked and thumped shut, filling the night with violent hisses of noise.

Severus stood on the empty street and stared at his shoes, at the way the toes split from the sole and the way the laces frayed at the ends. They seemed familiar, like it was just yesterday he was studying the way the worn leather if the tongue cracked at its natural fold.

He closed his hands and opened them. Something was missing from them. In the stinging cold making his pale hands paler by the second, he knew his skin was missing the delicate red lines from accidental cuts. Where were they?

There was a howl and the moon above him seemed to grow bigger, staring at him. It was warning him of something. “The night is not to be trusted,” he whispered. “It doesn’t hide things, it traps them.” His thin lips felt numb but his voice was his own.

He started walking down the desolate street, towards his home – no, his house. He walked down to his house and saw his father out on the wild grassy lawn of theirs, drinking a beer. He squinted his eyes as he approached, and wrinkled his noise at him. The disappointment was evident in his eyes.

“Don’t you ever ‘ave anything t’do out there?” he spat, his words too heavy for his tongue, tumbling out like the dribbling beer off his lips.

Severus walked passed him into the house where his mother stood motioning for the kitchen. He entered, finding a large buffet of food, all home cooked and glistening with butter and grease. His stomach growled and he had to wipe his drooling mouth with his sleeve.

“What’s this?”

“I ‘eard you got invited to join the Slug Club, and as a fifth year. I made this for you. ‘ave as much as you’d like.” His mother didn’t smile, and her mouth didn’t move. Her voice had sounded distant… but it had been hers.

“Th-thank you… This means a lot to me… I-I didn’t think you cared. I didn’t know you even kept up with my Hogwarts schooling…” He sat and watched his tears mix into the sweat of the turkey leg, glistening brightly as he buttered it and mashed steamed peas on top with his fork. He hadn’t eaten in so long.

It tasted sweet, like the butterbeer did during the winter holidays when extra syrup was added into the steaming liquid. He sipped the scotch and sighed against the burn in the back of his throat.

The glowing yellow eyes to his left widened and blinked. He turned, watching the green creature’s grin cut its wrinkled face in half. It’s yellow, razor-sharp teeth parted wide and an ear splitting cackle erupted out. He couldn’t turn away, wanting to hear the cackle in its entirety. How could a creature hold so much air in its small body? Its pointed face closed and just as Severus took another bite of the juicy turkey meat, it raised a large hollowed stick to its lips and shot out a dart, hitting his neck directly.

He fell onto the floor, his muscles slow like cold honey. His mother was frowning, until he managed to roll over and saw she was smiling at him from above, her long thin hair hugging her face like it did him sometimes.

“H-elp,” he croaked and reached out for her.

Her lips parted and her smile deepened as she extended her hand out to receive a large bag of coins from the erkling.

His father stepped into the room and leaned on the doorframe, crossing his ankles. “Didn’t think you’d be worth much. Least you surprised me ‘bout that.”

“Tobias,” his mother held out the gold coins.

Severus gripped his neck and looked down at himself. His school uniform had suddenly turned baggy around his now small, even younger, body. The erkling took him by the shoulders – he hung limp and flimsy from its taloned hands – and opened its mouth wide to the size of a large cauldron’s rim. There was bubbling yellow liquid inside, popping up at him.

“Why,” Severus cried.

“We never wanted you,” his father said simply.

And in he went, into the massive moist mouth of the green creature.

~ * ~ * ~

“AH!” Severus bolted up from his pillow, sweat dripping down his forehead, sticking his ink-black hair to his face. He touched a spot on his neck, feeling it damp but smooth, no abrasion. He looked around at the lumps in the dark, other sleeping bodies tucked under the safe covers of their beds.

His dorm mates snored quietly, unbothered by the sudden yelp that had come from his mouth. Severus’ labored breaths were started to calm as he looked around and traced the familiarity of his Slytherin room. It was just a nightmare. His brows came together as a shiver traveled up his body and reached his shoulders.

He pulled the covers off and whimpered. The sheets were soaked under him. He slowly crawled off the bed and ripped the sheets off, dragging them into the shared bathrooms. He couldn’t look at himself in the mirror and his nails dug into his palms at the anger and shame he felt. Wetting the bed as a fifth year… He shuddered, wishing it hadn’t happened.

He started a bath and peeled off his clothes, dumping the sheets and all into the large hamper. He walked over to the half-filled bath and quickly got in the warm water. He held his arms and sat with his legs pressed into himself, letting the water run over his head, soaking his hair and hiding his tears.

“At least I was worth something,” he whispered.

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

Masterlist

---

Day 7 Prompt: nightmare + erkling (green elf-like creature with a pointed face, likes to eat children and has an alluring high-pitched cackle; shoots darts at unsuspecting victims.)

---

General Taglist:

@severuslovebot @bionic-otp

---

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Sentence prompt for Doc O’Neil: not really a sentence but something my grandma Pat always told me (she’s 95 now and an absolute sweetheart) is to “speak softly and carry a mighty big stick”. Idk why but I think that kind of thing could fit somewhere into the 4077th😂

A/N: I think you’re 100% right! Also, this turned out way different than I expected, so enjoy!”

It was a good night.  Which was to say a quiet one.  No wounded in twenty four hours leaving just enough time for proper relaxation before boredom set in. To celebrate, Doc, Hawkeye and Trapper sat together in the officer’s club drinking and trying their best to enjoy the time that they had.  There were a few other enlisted men and nurses scattered around.  But, not even Hawkeye paid them much mind.

“You’re pulling my leg,” Trapper said.

“Hand to God,” Doc insisted.  “First time I cut open a man.  The doctor was German, the patient was French, and the nurses were Swiss.  I’m lucky his insides weren’t driving on the left side of the road.”

Hawkeye got a far away look in his eyes. “Swiss nurses you say.”

She gave him a good smack on the arm getting a good laugh out of Trap.

“Anyway.  Luckily one of the nurses knew enough German to translate it to me in French and between the three of us we were able to sew up one patient.  Rise and repeat for almost five hours and I think I learned more German than three years in the classroom.”

“There’s no replacing first hand experience,” Hawkeye commented.  “You really have to immerse yourself in the culture.”

Liz let out a snort into her drink just as the door swung open. 

Taking a glance, she spotted a new face.  Pilot by the look of his jacket and general attitude, he must have been the replacement.

Hawkeye and Trapper noticed her looking and followed her eyeline to the new comer.

“See something you like,” Trap teased.

Liz rolled her eyes, silently regretting having confessed to him one drunk evening that “there was something about a man bent over a car engine with grease on his hands”.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” she said dryly.

“New pilot,” Hawkeye said, with little more on edge than his usual casual demeanor.

“Looks like it,” Trap said. He then turned to Liz with a conspiratorial smile.  “I could use another round.  Hawk, could you use another round?”

“No, I’m good,” he said, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

“Liz, you look like you need another round, would you mind getting me one while you’re up there?”

Doc’s eyes narrowed as well, but unlike Hawkeye she immediately got what Trap was trying for.

“Because you’re my friend, I will get it.  But I will be right back and I will be bringing back just a drink.” She snatched his glass.  “You’re not subtle McIntyre.”

And with that, she stood and walked to the bar.

“What was that about?” Hawkeye asked.

“I’m just trying to get Liz to loosen up,” Trapper said.  “She should be allowed to have a little fun.”

Hawkeye looked toward the bar and at the pilot giving her the eye.  He knew on some level, Trap was right. Liz had every right to have a little fun.  But another part of him started to gnaw at his insides.

Liz for her part was unaware of this internal conundrum as she placed the two glasses on the bar.

“Two more of the same,” she said, with a smile.

Just as the bartender turned away to make her drinks, a new body slid beside her.

“Hey,” the pilot said, smoothly.

Liz only gave him a glance.  “Hey, yourself.”

“What are you drinking?”

“Alcohol.”

“A fine selection,” he said, “rare to see someone with such fine taste in an establishment such as this.”

She suppressed a smile, that allowed at least a full view.  Turning to him, she was presented with a classically handsome face, chiseled jaw with a five o’clock shadow and teasing brown eyes.

“Name’s Wayne,” he said, offering his hand.  “Lieutenant?”

“Captain,” she corrected, pointing to the bars on her uniform rather than taking his hand.  “O’Neil.”

“Oh,” he said, nodding.  “You’re the lady doctor.”

“I prefer just doctor.”  Any good will he established with his looks was starting to fade. 

“Well yeah, but you’re not like, actually a doctor.”

And there the good will went.

“Meaning what exactly?”

“Well, you gotta be here for the nurses, right?” he continued, not sensing the danger he was in.  “Maybe help with some of the deliveries with the L.I.P.s?”

It was at that moment the bartender slid her drinks across the bar, providing a necessary pause in the conversation.

Liz opened her mouth, ready to unleash hell, but then stopped.  He wasn’t worth it.  She had her drinks.  She was just going to walk away.

“Sure,” she said, dryly.  “I’m just here for the nurses.”

She turned to leave, but not before a hand grabbed her arm.

“Hey, speaking of nurses,” he said.  “Maybe you want to bring over your friend and we all have a little examination.”

He glanced down at the second drink and then to a group of nurses in the corner.

Liz suppressed a smile.  This was almost too easy.  “Only if you’re okay with my husband joining us.”

Wayne’s eyes widened.  “Husband?”

She nodding, indicating the table where Trapper and Hawkeye were sitting. She was silently grateful it was Trapper who asked for the drink.  Hawkeye was great, but he didn’t have the obvious arm muscles McIntyre had.

“You didn’t think a fragile woman like me would come all the way out here without her husband, did you?” she asked. For emphasis, she pulled out her old wedding ring dangling around her neck.

Wayne visibly paled as he looked between her and the table.  By this point, Hawkeye and Trapper has spotted what was going on.  Neither looked happy and both were rising from their seats.

“Hey, hey, I didn’t mean anything by it,” he said, pulling his hand away as if her arm physically burned him.

“Of course not,” she said sweetly.  “Have a nice night.”

She then walked away and back to her table.

“Are you alright,” Hawkeye asked just as she came in earshot.

“Nothing I haven’t dealt with before,” she assured.  “I should be thanking you guys.  The pair of you make for wonderful sticks.”

“Sticks?” Trapper asked.

“Something my grandma used to say, “speak softly and carry a mighty big stick”.” She pointed between the two of them.  “You guys are the sticks.”

Trapper let out a snort.  “Happy to help.”

She shot him a sarcastic smile.  “I’d be happier if you pay for this round, and the rest of them.”

He at least had the decency to look guilty.  “Sure thing Doc.”

[ofkanes]

me   pulling   up   wayyy   later   than   expected   :   👀👀,   fhdjs   hi   !!   i’m   nik   but   u   can   call   me   nikolaj   (   b99   stans   only      😤)   &   i’m   here   to   bring   my   mess   of   a   baby   kane   !!   ok   so   i’m   literally   too   excited   for   this   group   pls   don’t   @   me   .   before   i   start   i   just   wanna   say   that   all   ur   intros   ??   shakespeare   is   quaking   !!   send   tweet   .

[   jack   gilinsky   ,   he   /   him   ,   twenty   two   ,   cis   male   ]   do   my   eyes   deceive   me   ,   or   did   i   just   see   (   KANE   MORGAN   )   getting   out   of   the   car   in   hunnington   ?   i   guess   (   HE’S   )   living   around   (   ROCK   SPRINGS   )   ,   which   i   could’ve   guessed   .   hopefully   they   can   keep   their   (   -   SHORT   TEMPERED   &   -   COMPLACENT   )   shit   to   theirselves   ,   and   focus   on   being   (   +   ADAPTABLE   &   +   CHARMING   )   to   avoid   any   problems   .   and   for   the   love   of   god   ,   lets   hope   they   don’t   talk   about   the   (   HIDDEN   )   thing   .

ʙᴀᴄᴋsᴛᴏʀʏ 

ok lemme say that i envisioned kane as a movie bby , you’ll get what i mean in 2 secs . 

his two parents are both movie directors , his mother is an actress turned movie director . the morgan surname is well - known across the silver screens everywhere , not one that people take it lightly . here’s some background about his parents . 

tim morgan : father , but mostly known of his work as a movie director , i wanna say he has the career claim of frank darabont ( directed : the shawnshank redemption , the green mile , mary shelley’s frankestein , the walking dead ... etc ) . he earned his name despite being , at first , a nerdy film school student . very proud person , definitely snobbish . 

ingrid jackson - morgan : mother , but also a very good actress , i was thinking she had the career claim of michelle pfeiffer (  scarface , grease 2 , batman returns , hairspray , murder on the orient express ... etc ) . she comes from a line of models & actresses , so it’s no surprise there . 

now you have young kane morgan , now im ashamed to say he was named after citizen kane , his parent’s favourite movie ( rlly no taste ngl ) & you’ll never guess his middle name .... brando . that’s it , i’m cancelling him . 

but basically he’s a little accident that happened before the marriage , oops ? so really , an unhappy surprise for ms & mr morgan . his mother wasn’t very happy w his arrival because all she wanted to do was to work on movies & NOT take care of a child . 

don’t worry , cuz kane rlly felt that unhappiness ooze outta her . gr8 nannies though , he loves them . 

his father was happy to have someone to teach all his knowledge to , nerd alert , but that was one of the few moments he appreciated kane . that’s it . 

so one could imagine the disaster of a kid being brought up by movie stars ( read : nannies ) , not a stranger to cameras , red carpets & all that good stuff . 

ofc he was a child actor , his parents tried to put him in almost every movie they could , spreading that good morgan family name n all . kane didn’t think much of it , until he was old enough to understand .

he was definitely a little bratty , demanding attention from everyone all the time . being as fickle as they come , but that’s only because his parents didn’t give a flying fuck . 

as he grew up , still on the spotlight , he liked to be on & off the camera . some years , he yearned to be the center of attention & other’s he hated the job . very hard to keep up with . 

when he turned sixteen , he had his first ( & probably not last ) proper hollywood breakdown , almost as bad as brittany circa 2007 . he got a good role & was introduced to the bad side of hollywood . parties , drugs , shady people & all that good stuff . he was influenceable & fell into all the traps . it was only 2 years later that his parents were able to snap him out of it . they ofc paid all the tabloids to keep the good name out of their articles , but if you do your research , you’ll find some pretty pics of lil morgan . 

since then , he has cleaned up his act . ofc he took a couple of years off , went to college, tried to focus on himself & discover who he was ( he wasn’t only a morgan , he was kane !! who is kane ?? ) & he only started starring in roles recently , post college graduation . 

he just got off his first acting job post - hiatus & it’s a blockbuster . i was thinking maybe inspired on those coming of age movies ( à la hot summer nights but w more traction ) & people are freaking out !! kane morgan on the big screen ?? WHAT ?? he came back to nc before he decides on what to do next .

ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ

ok so you can already guess that kane morgan is no humble kid . i like to think he has layers , but ppl can’t be bothered to look through all of them . 

some would say that his major problems stem from the fact that his parents didn’t give him enough attention & the public gave him too much . 

having your parents’ attention ? that’s so 2002 . 

for the press i like to think he has this movie star facade down . you know the old charming james dean smile , handsome but kind . loves the underdog , very humble about his social standing . generous , outgoing & loved by everyone . 

idk i never met james dean , all the information i have on him is taylor swift’s song : style .  

now if we dig a little deeper , he’s still quite the charmer ( c’mon he’s an actor after all ) , but maybe not as humble nor kind . he can be quite rude & entitled , but has some good jokes . don’t get him completely wrong , he’s still a bit generous ( he gives 25% tips wow ) . likes a good party , but knows his limits . always down for a good time . 

if we go even deeper , oof , he’s a bit broken . never learned to love properly , all he has it’s movies , which we can all agree are shit if you’re gonna base your attachment type on it . he lives on his own little world & likes to keeps his guards up . a sweetheart really , you can see past all the snobby film critic bullshit & he’s just a boy who wanna have fun & have a good life like all those people on the screen . 

you   would   fucken   think   im   a   film   major   but   NO   ,   i’m   not   even   that   fancy   w   movies   .   and   after   all   reading   all   those   movies   titles   ur   head   must   be   spinning   ,   MINE   IS   !!   but   ily   &   ur   an   absolute   queen   /   king   /   monarch   if   you   read   thru   all   of   this   !!   let   me   tag   my   plot   page   below   hehe   ,   it’s   were   we   get   angstyyy   !

plot page babey

[moteloleander]

A 30 Day Art Prompt Challenge For Someone Trying To Get Back In To Drawing

It does not matter if it takes way more than 30 days.

It does not matter if a prompt leaves you cold (there are alternates at the bottom of the list)

If you want to make it fandom, make it fandom. If you don't, don't.

There are no limitations. Just do the thing.

Day 1: Start small. Take 20-30 minutes and doodle things you can see. A glass on the table or flowers in a vase or a dog outside a window or the elderly drunk chef on TV. It doesn't matter in the slightest if they're a mess

Day 2: Tighten up a bit. Take one doodle and try to make something you're happy with. (Happy-ish, I never met a creative who was happy with anything)

Day 3: Draw an animal walking a tightrope. You were serious yesterday, you don't have to be serious today.

Day 4: Sketch your left foot. If feet are hard, just do the big toe. If toes are hard, pick a wrinkly knuckle and do that (hairs and all)

Day 5: Draw something you'd like to eat. OP accepts no responsibility for Tumblr bans incurred by creative misinterpretation of this prompt.

Day 6: Get a knife from the kitchen (or some other utensil if you're not to be trusted with knives). Do little texture studies - of a shiny blade or a rubbery grip or a wood handle, whatever you've got. It doesn't matter if the page looks like a patchwork quilt rather than a knife.

Day 7: A whole week's worth of good arty fun! Today draw somebody telling a joke! It's up to you if they are confident or desperate, if they've already made themselves laugh. If in doubt, go tell a joke and take note how you feel.

Day 8: Don't try to draw the room you're sitting in, you'll break your brain. Take care of yourself. Pick one corner or one little image. Draw that.

Day 9: Make something complicated really, really simple. You might suggest a brick wall just by sketching one or two bricks, or suggest the lacy pattern of leaves on a tree by just outlining the empty spaces. Plaid, fur, a shelf full of books - invent a shortcut!

Day 10: Speaking of a shelf full of books - get a book. Go to page 46. Eight lines down, six words along. Draw that word. (If the word is 'the' or otherwise uninspiring, practice lettering, or illuminate it, or do something with the letters themselves)

Day 11: Get out of the house and doodle. I don't care what you doodle. Streetlights, drain covers, a billboard, a terrifying black-out drunk dude nodding out at a bus stop, just so long as it's not indoors.

Day 12: Break time! Take your favourite holiday and your favourite non-human creature and put them together. The St Paddy's Day Siren. The Chinese New Year Mutant Abomination. The Alien Of Christmas Past.

Day 13: Sketch a wall. With graffiti on it. In an art gallery. Shelves with interesting things. Covered in overlapping posters. Idk. Find a wall and draw it, k?

Day 14: Today we are looking at age. It doesn't matter if you make a complete drawing or just texture studies. A cracked stone step. Chipped paint. The worn corners of a notebook that's been knocking around the back of your desk for a year. Or ask the bus stop weirdo if he'll sit for you again. Make a friend, hey, why not! (Please don't.)

Day 15: Stretch out your legs and draw them. You can leave out the feet if those are still hard. Pay attention to where they touch or don't, to where they get squooshed out of shape, to the creases and seams in any fabric.

Day 16: Chill. Draw a complete freakin cliche. A nerd with big glasses and ink stains. A heroic collie posing on a hill. A fat chef. An old hill ffs just draw something you've seen a thousand times. That doesn't mean it's bad. Enjoy it. Be happy-ish with it.

Day 17: Look at something melting - candle wax, chocolate, that bacon grease you forgot to wash off the tray starting to burn because you need to use the oven again...

Day 18: Watch something via streaming or DVD. Look at a particular character for five or ten minutes. Then fastforward. Pause just as soon as you see that character again. And I don't care how weird that face is, draw it. If faces are daunting, just try and space out the features, get a curled lip right, or a squinting eye.

Day 19: Get tied! Tie some knots in string or in the cord of your jim-jams or the belt of a bathrobe, you could even braid your hair, and sketch how things tie together and wind through each other.

Day 20: It's time for hands! (Sorry! Tomorrow will be chill, I promise). Draw whatever hand isn't holding your pen/pencil/scalpel/quill. You can pose it however you like. If fingers are tough, ball up your fist

Day 21: You're on your damn way! Relax today. Doodle something from a movie you love. It doesn't have to be good. If all you've got in you is a stick man being tackled by a Blob Of Unusual Size, just tag it Princess Bride and we'll tell you it's beautiful and put it on the fridge.

Day 22: Look at some sports people, irl or on TV or online. Try and sketch some muscle form. A big thick football neck, a sinewy female MMA shoulder, a sprinter's calf

Day 23: Let's look at liquid - a puddle, a running tap, how milk kind of clings to a glass, the dregs of a cup of tea with biscuit crumbs. Just some kind of damp, k?

Day 24: Shiny shiny! Shiny things and light! Gather some shiny things together - glittery costume jewelry, a compact mirror, that bit of sea glass you can't part with, put everything in a glass jar, whatever, just S H I N Y - and draw what you see. Don't worry if it makes sense. Little reflections and flashes of light like you're drawing a treasure chest. It's all about how light hits and bounces.

Day 25: Okay, remember the sports day? Well, this time you're going to look up some dancers. Look at the whole body this time. Find the strangest, most contortionist poses. Draw exactly what you see and try to understand how tf they got their leg up there

Day 26: NEARLY THERE! Today your theme is cheese! A cheesy grin! A little mouse trying to get cheese out of a trap! A monster made of radioactive cheese! The moon, made of green cheese, complete with Clangers and Soup Dragon!

Day 27: Sketch out your favourite room in the house. You don't have to get the kitchen counters exactly level, you don't have to draw the fish tank if you don't want to, maybe there's just a lamp you're particularly fond of. Just draw a background from your own home. It can be the garden if you like!

Day 28: Try and draw some interaction. Use stick-men if you want to, or simple outlines. Make them shake hands or get in a fight or slow-dance. Or all three, in sequence. Cute couple.

Day 29: Look at two buildings next to each other and sketch what you see. Is there an alley between them? Is it overgrown? Do they butt up against each other? How do the two surfaces meet?

Day 30: IDGAF what you draw today, bunny, because it's thirty days and you made it and you did all these stupid little exercises and you did good! You're happy, right? Happy-ish?

*

Here are some loose alternates you can sub in if you don't like any of the days above.

Alt 1: A Sad Piano

Alt 2: A Friendly Ghost or Monster

Alt 3: A Fruit In Love

Alt 4: A Battered Fish

Alt 5: A Nun/Priest Of An Alternative Religion

[pinkletterday]

Dancing Queen

Pairing: Oliver Queen/ Barry Allen

Rating: Teen

Summary: Barry makes an awful pun and Oliver makes an impulsive proposal.

A/N: Arrow S5/ Flash S3 AU. Laurel's alive and Sam came back to Starling with William.

This is my Olivarry fic with the highest proportionate kudos rating. Idk why. It's a strange bit of fluff. :P

Read on AO3

When Mayor Queen's driver pulls up to his boss' apartment building, Oliver is still on his phone. He's been on his phone or in meetings all day, putting out fires, being sneered at by experienced Councilmen, harangued by the city treasury and being coached through dizzyingly complicated legalese by Laurel. He is trying not to drown in it all but can't ignore his night job either, especially considering a certain businessman who had turned up, thinking to offer the new and overwhelmed young mayor a tempting carrot and a large stick. Oliver has been urgently co-ordinating with Diggle and Felicity for the Green Arrow to divest the gentleman of both, post-haste.

His child's mother calling him to demand satisfaction is the icing on today's cake.

"Yes, Samantha, I understand this is the third time-," he absently waves the driver off, juggling his briefcase and files. "I know William was disappointed at missing his weekend with me - yes, I realize that - Sam, I just got sworn in as mayor! - well, yeah it was three months ago but - yeah, I'm still at my night job but I am being careful - yes, I am taking him to the Cardinals game this weekend - I'll make it up him, Samantha, I promise - I'm not lying to him!"

Samantha isn't done with him until he's at the doorstep of the apartment he now shares with Barry. Who had moved to Starling to be with him ("I can be in Central in 10 minutes, Oliver") but who, to Oliver's eternal guilt, has barely seen him this week, what with work and vigilante-ing ("That's still not a word, Barry.") and respective family commitments. He's two hours later than he said he would be today as well.

Oliver unlocks the door, weary apology on his lips, expecting to find takeout on the counter and a speedster flopped forlornly on the sofa, flipping through the cable channels.

What he finds is the delicious smell of baking pervading the apartment, along with the strains of Grease and Barry obliviously singing along into a broom. He's in his socks and Spiderman boxers, wearing one of Oliver's t-shirts that hangs so large off his slender frame that it makes him look like a misshapen manta ray. There's icing sugar on his nose and his hair is still fluffy from a shower.

"Better shape up, cause you need a man..." his boyfriend spins around á la John Travolta, does a double take when he sees Oliver and bursts into a smile like sunshine, continuing without missing a beat - "and my heart is set on you!" flinging his arm out dramatically to point at him. The complete dork.

"You're the one that I want, you are the one I want," Barry sings blithely into his makeshift mic, hustling up to him, "ooh ooh ooh," shimmying from side to side. Oliver grabs him by those enticing hips to pull him forward and kiss him as soundly as he can through both their grins. He tastes like icing sugar and almonds.

"What's all this?" asks Oliver when they break apart, gesturing to the kitchen island scattered with baking supplies and trays of fresh-baked doughnuts.

"Well," Barry leads Oliver by the hand to show him his handiwork, steps still bouncing, "I figured you'd be in hot water with Samantha because you had to cancel your last weekend with William 'cause of that thing with the vampire cult -"

They have vampires now, apparently. Because the world isn't already ridiculous enough. "Was that Star City weirdness or Central?"

"Neither, they turned out to be based out of Keystone. And you were the one who rolled out the magic stuff, not me. Anyway. Samantha doesn't understand about vampires so I figured she'd be on the war path -"

"She is."

"So your intrepid superhero boyfriend breezed by William's school and found out that his class is having a bake sale!" A grown man should not look that much like an adorable labrador that had brought back the frisbee, Oliver thinks. "And William says Samantha is pants at baking, so if you ride in on your white horse with two dozen homemade doughnuts -"

"I'd earn back some brownie points."

"Exactly. And it makes your interest look more proactive! Which it is!" Barry hurries to clarify as Oliver's face clouds, "You're just really swamped, Ollie. You'd bake all day for William if you had time. But you do have a speedster boyfriend to help out so...I'm just pinch hitting."

Oliver looks with tenderness and wonder at the younger man, bustling around full of effervescent energy.

"Thanks, Barr. You're amazing," he reels him in close by his waist and gently kisses the icing off his nose.

Barry looks pleased with himself. "I am."

"You look like you're almost done." Oliver looks around regretfully.

"Yes, but you can still help me put the icing and sprinkles on the last batch. I know you love them, you lying health food freak!" Barry smirks and pushes the bowl of icing and bag of sprinkles at Oliver, who gladly takes off his coat and rolls up his sleeves.

"Laurel called and told me you'd be held up at work, so I ate and put the leftovers in the fridge for you." Barry continues moving fluidly around him with dancing movements, opening cupboards and tossing cutlery in the sink.

"That's good. I was afraid you'd have waited for me."

"Babe, I'm a speedster," Barry snorts. "I'd die if I waited for you to eat. This stomach waits for no man, sorry. Not even the one I love."

"Stomach first, man second," Oliver agrees. "I have always suspected this about you."

"Yes. I only love you cause you feed me," Barry nods. He attempts to scoop up some more icing with his finger only to be swatted away by Oliver. "Hey! That was my icing first!"

"And now its my icing and my doughnut," says Oliver sternly. "Keep those thieving hands to yourself, greedy."

Barry pouts injuredly at him. "The love, it has been rescinded."

Oliver tugs him close, smears icing on his lips and kisses him in answer. "Has it really?"

"Mmmm," Barry noses his ear, "and how was your day?" he inquires, wrapping his long manta ray arms around him and trapping him in his own t-shirt.

Oliver buries his face in his lover's hair and huffs. "I don't even want to talk to about it."

He feels Barry's shoulders slump. "Same," he whispers. "I only got through today so I could come home to you."

They hold each other close for a long moment before Barry breaks away. "How about we just not talk about anything serious and concentrate on William's doughnuts?"

"I'll focus on his doughnuts," Oliver leers playfully, letting his hand slide below his boyfriend's waist. "You were in the middle of something when I interrupted. Please continue."

"What?" Barry looks at him befuddled. "You're serious?"

"I'm the mayor, Barry. I'm always serious."

"You want me to dance for you? While you decorate doughnuts?"

"Yup." Oliver smirks and gooses his partner, making him yelp and wiggle away. "Entertain me, serf. Go on!"

Barry gapes at him and then, when he continues to look deadly serious, starts scrolling through the song menu, pouting. An evil grin suddenly comes over his face and -

"Friday night and the lights are loooow..."

Oliver instantly regrets everything. "Okay no wait, I take it back - Barry, no! You know what, you're fired. We're breaking up. Give me the remote."

Barry gleefully spins out of the way and continues singing. "YOU ARE THE DANCING QUEEN!" he yells at Oliver, who cringes in his soul.

"This is the corniest you have ever been in your life." Oliver informs him. Barry does an unrepentant shimmy in reply.

"DANCING QUEEN FEEL THE BEAT FROM THE TAMBOURINE OOOH-" Barry is cut off as a cloud of icing sugar explodes in his face. He blinks and sputters in disbelief.

"Oh, hell no!" he growls when his vision clears, lightning sparking in his eyes. "You're not getting away with that, Queen!"

Oliver meets his boyfriend's glare with a smirk and spins the icing spatula in his hand like a nunchuck. "Bring it, Allen!"

...

Later, Abba is still playing in a low hum in the background, and the two of them are lying much dishevelled on the kitchen island floor which is covered in various cake ingredients. Barry's t-shirt (or rather Oliver's) is rucked around his armpits and both their pants are shucked around their thighs.

Oliver falls back onto the sugar-covered floor with a sigh. "I can't believe I had sex with you after that," he groans. "That was the unsexiest thing I've ever seen."

"And yet," Barry grins smugly at the ceiling. "It's not my fault you're easy."

Oliver props his head on his elbow and turns to look at Barry pulling up his Spiderman pants. There is flour in his hair, his cheek and chin are smeared with batter and he's lost a sock. He sees Oliver staring at him.

"What?" Barry asks warily.

Oliver continues gazing at him like he's seeing him for the first time. "I just realized how absolutely awful everything is."

Barry blinks and looks around. "Um. I can clean this up in a minute-"

"It's not that."

"I didn't think Abba was that bad?" he tries, bewildered.

Oliver stands, pulling his pants up and helps Barry to his feet. He pulls the other man onto the sofa and seats himself opposite him on the coffee table, knees brushing against each other.

"Barry...this week has been awful," Oliver begins, letting his forehead drop wearily onto their clasped hands. "I'm a college drop out, I ran my family's company to the ground and now I'm trying to run a city when everyone knows Im not qualified. I try to look as though I know what I'm doing but I'm in over my head every day. Thea and Laurel are like my life rafts and Im still just keeping my head above water. Not to mention my night job -

The fatigue of settles into his bones but he ploughs on. "It's been five years and sometimes I feel like I didnt make the slightest bit of difference - no, let me say this - I feel like I'm only damming the flood every night and I'll never be able to stop being the vigilante or live a normal life. I have nightmares that this city will drain me of everything I am until I'm nothing but a shrivelled, bitter old man alone in the shadows with his bow.

"My kid is the one thing that's pure and completely good in my life but I've missed so much of his. I am so mad at Samantha and my Mom for that. But I can barely be there for him, or make his Little League games or bake sales. My parents made a lot of mistakes but at least they were there for me. I cant give even that much to my son because the city is taking everything I have. I'm failing him, Barry."

He only realizes his eyes are wet when Barry brushes the tears away with his thumbs, framing Oliver's face in his hands with an expression of infinite tenderness.

"Oliver," he leans their foreheads together and breathes his name into the space between.

"But that's not it." Oliver draws back, capturing Barry's hands in his own to look up at him, willing him to understand. "I just realized...everything in my life is completely awful - and I am so goddamn happy." He takes a shuddering breath through the lump in his throat and looks his boyfriend the eyes. "Marry me."

Barry looks stunned. "What?"

"Marry me."

Barry stares at him. "I just sang "Dancing Queen" at you and destroyed our kitchen."

"I know. You're awful. And so corny. You look ridiculous in my shirts. You eat so much sugar that watching you gives me toothache. You keep watching the same three musicals over and over when you cant sleep. It's like living with a five year old. I love you. Marry me."

"This is officially the weirdest marriage proposal ever," marvels Barry, still bemused. "I still don't understand where this is coming from. Is it because you had a bad day?"

"It's because I had a bad day," Oliver agrees, "and then I came home to you being...well, you. And then nothing else mattered."

Tears are now shining in Barry's beautiful eyes as well, clinging to his long lashes. "I love you too."

They fall forward into each other as Oliver crushes Barry to him. "Never leave," he pleads into his lover's neck, where the scent of vanilla and batter is spiced with that of ozone and storms. "Stay."

"Yes," Barry clutches him back just as fervently. "I will."

"You will?" He stills, daring to hope.

"Well, no," his boyfriend amends, pulling back. Oliver's face falls. "You have to do it properly."

Barry gestures imperiously at the floor as he looks on in bemusement. "Properly, Oliver," he says sternly and the light of understanding dawns.

"Ahem. Of course." Oliver pulls a mask of solemnity over the exhilaration surging within him. "I don't have a ring though -," he casts around and spots - "Ah, well this'll do."

He takes the one rainbow sprinkle doughnut he had managed to ice which has been miraculously spared the destruction and ceremonially places it on a napkin on his palm. Then he sinks down on one knee in front of his giggling boyfriend.

"Barry Allen," his laughter fades as Oliver looks at him over the colourful confection, heart open in his eyes. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes," the tears that have been shining in Barry's eyes spill over and he wipes them away hazily. "Yes, I will."

He graciously holds out his pinkie for Oliver to slide the doughnut on and bursts out laughing when they kiss. Barry pulls away and starts eating the cake off his finger.

"What are you doing?" exclaims Oliver. "You can't eat your engagement ring!"

"It's my ring," Barry informs him through a sweet mouthful. "I can do what I want."

"What about me? Aren't you gonna share with your fiancé?"

"Remember what I said about the stomach coming first - Oliver, no!" Barry falls off the sofa with a shout of laughter as Oliver lunges at him.

Hours later, the kitchen speed-cleaned, remaining doughnuts salvaged and safely stored, the two of them lie in bed, fed, showered and sated. They are tucked comfortably and tightly in each other's arms, like two neatly fitted pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. There is no ring but their fingers are entwined with each other's in silent promise.

"Barry?" Oliver murmurs into his fiancé's neck.

"Yeah, babe?" Barry nestles further into his arms sleepily.

"You know I love everything about you."

"So you say."

"But can you do something for me?"

"Hmm?"

"Please never mention that song again. Ever."

There is a contemplative silence.

"That's probably for the best."

The End