#if long hair hair noah has no fans I’m dead!

[thecoyotescry]

[thecoyotescry]

Long hair Noah always has me thinking thoughts that are on the very opposite of wholesome

#this kind of vibe specifically

[lemon-boy-stan]

end scene - finn wolfhard x reader

The reader is filming a deleted scene which sparks trauma. Warnings: SUPER ANGSTY LIKE SERIOUSLY, crying finn, mentions of death, mentions of sex (at the end), abuse, mentions of alcohol and swearing. And also long paragraphs. Lower case.

finn was the only person who knew about your trauma and cared - your mother had a boyfriend and moved on.

the car crash was your burden and catalyst to your inconsistent episodes which was why, every time you rehearsed the scene with him, finn made sure you were okay and that you knew he didn't mean it.

millie was good at being dead. she'd lay there, under the rubble, not moving a limb - she looked so lifeless like that that you were positive a passer-by would rush over to help her.

except there were no passer-bys, just you, your boyfriend, cast and crew and the CGI.

but yet it still looked so real - and it reminded you of her that much - of the car, the crash, the rubble, debris, anger that left your father's mouth afterwards, the deafening silence of your mother who stood and watched in the hospital...

mentally, you forced yourself to shake it off. the memory had obviously tuned the other cast members out.

"it wasn't her fault!" noah screeched - finn appeared to be approaching you, a look of mad and sadness in his eyes (which did not seem to be for you but hurt you anyway) kindling dangerously.

"we can still save her," he turned back from you to her "dead" body, "we can still save her! nancy! nancy. do you know cpr? does anyone know cpr? steve? johnathan? even you, billy?"

"even you?!" sadie shrieked. darce shot her a look and shook his head as if billy was telling her to pick her battles.

"anyone?" finn talked over her. "please. someone help me! she can't die here. she won't die here! i won't let it!" his words and voice were exactly the same as every other time you rehearsed it alone.

you continued to stare at the nothingness that wavered around him as natalia and everyone else remained quiet.

finn darted to you with the corner of his eye before recovering again, "we can still save her!" the rest of the cast waited.

'we can't', mouthed charlie, you'd forgotten your line by a beat. SHIT. finn frowned - something was fishy.

"we can't," you said softly, quickly. finn exhaled invisibly and silently. "f - mike. mike, el said - she told me - she said she was sorry and she said she - "

he cut you off just like every other time, "what good," he began, breathing through his nose, "is an apology," silence, the rest of the cast who were watching liked it, "if she's dead?! please! someone help me!"

no one helped him.

"come on," he begged the world, "come on. el. el. wake up. wake up. wake up!" he shook millie's body as if shaking a dead person would wake them up, kind of like how your father shook your sister in the hospital bed even though the nurse said that shaking her would make things worse.

"el," he choked back, "no. el. el." the fake tears hurt you more than they normally would have.

finn was your boyfriend and you could normally tell the difference between his fake and real emotions and for some reason you couldn't today.

after finn finished crying, he stroked her lifeless hair just like every other time and just like the time your father stroked your sister's before he turned to you.

"YOU were supposed to save HER," he spat the words viciously like every other time, eyes flicking over you with assurance. "but SHE saved YOU! she wasn't supposed to save YOU! you were supposed to die, you were supposed to die! the mindflayer was supposed to get YOU but it got HER! you're not even sorry! none of you are sorry! because if you were sorry, YOU would be DEAD and SHE would be ALIVE!"

you couldn't tell at the time but the words hurt him, too.

"it doesn't work like that!" noah screeched. "she was here first, anyways! she's my sister! eleven understood that so why can't you, mike?!"

"i told you to come up with another plan," he hissed at you, ignoring noah, "but you didn't! you let her die! you let her die, belle! you're a bitch and you let her die!" he yelled over noah.

"i'm sorry," you whispered, to which gaten and the rest of the cast wore a look of amazement - you hated improvising.

finn frowned slightly before going along.

"you're not. fucking. sorry. do you know why?" he waited.

"mike," natalia cut in.

"BECAUSE YOU WOULD BE DEAD! YOU STUPID BITCH, YOU WOULD BE DEAD! BUT YOU KILLED HER!"

"no, she didn't! don't call her that!"

that was the first - and last - time finn had ever called you that or yelled at you. you froze.

"i'm sorry," your lip shook - you didn't have a line just then but the crew liked it. "i'm sorry, i'm sorry,"

"it's your fault she's dead, y/n! you stupid bitch! you killed her! you killed your sister! do you know why you killed her? because you're a mistake! and a murderer! you fucking killed her, you stupid bitch! you can't do anything right, can you, you fucking brat? i saw you yelling at her! 'hurry up, izzy, i'm going to be late!' i told you not to go, didn't i? i told you she can't fucking drive in the fucking rain because she's bipolar and fucking crazy! but you're a brat, y/n, and it's going to be the end of you and everyone around you and even that finn boy, i don't give a fuck how much fucking money he has because you're going to blow him up too like the bomb you are! i don't give a shit how many fucking fans you have, do you hear me? because you. blew. her. UP!"

the nurses stared.

one turned to your mother in her stupid ninties pink dress and pearl necklace as if to say, 'aren't you going to do anything?' but she didn't, she pretended as if everything was fine.

"i'm sorry," you bit back the tears. "i'm sorry,"

"you aren't sorry! because she's dead! you aren't sorry! you're just a bomb!"

you bit your cheek harshly - no one else besides finn noticed.

"i'm sorry," your voice shook, "i'm sorry i killed her i'm sorry i'm sorry please don't - please i'm sorry,"

the crew started giving you looks - knock it off, it was starting to get weird and they didn't want the audience to hate your character.

but you couldn't help it. you didn't want him to hit you and you didn't want the people in the hospital to stare.

but you weren't in the hospital, you were on set, and he wasn't with you, it was finn, but same difference.

because maybe if you said sorry more maybe finn wouldn't unlove you like he did, maybe finn wouldn't hit you like he did.

"i'm sorry it's my fault i'm sorry i'm sorry,"

finn's breath hitched and his adam's apple moved before something washed over him - recognition.

you see, the endless trails of apologies had happened once at his house at night.

"wait!"

gaten threw his arms up at the outburst and the rest of the cast looked dissappointed. this scene was such a good trope for the love triangle between mike el and belle.

"wait - just - just cut. please. she's not acting, i swear this has happened before and i can help her please," he was begging now and the crew sighed and grumbled - everyone was human.

"alright, that's a wrap, we'll film again in a half," they began to leave.

"i'm sorry finn i'm sorry i kill - "

"baby, stop," he put his hands on your shoulders but you just shook your head and kept saying the words anyways, "baby! you don't have to apologise for anything, baby, you didn't kill anyone,"

"but i did kill her, finn!" you sobbed, "i killed her. "i killed my sister because i'm a stupid bitch and a brat who made her sister drive her to her friend's house in the rain," you bit your cheek until there was blood,

"i'm a mistake, finn, i'm sorry i'm a fucking bitch, and i'm sorry i killed them. just please, please don't unlove me, please, everyone who's loved me's unloved me, please i swear i'll do litera - "

"baby, what?" he looked like a puppy who'd just been told off, "why would i unlove you?"

"because i can't do anything right," you shook your head, "and you have to unlove me even though i don't want you to, finn, because i'm a mistake and i'm a fucking bomb, and a bitch. but please, please, i'm sorry, i can't - i can't lose someone else - "

"you're never going to lose me, baby," he whispered. he was shaking, "and you're not a bomb. oh, fuck, the last thing you are is a bomb, y/n. this isn't bullshit. i love you too much to give you bullshit. if he told you that, let me tell you this: you. are. not. a. bomb, baby. you're mine, the farthest thing you are is a bomb, you're a band aid, and a lifeline. you're never going to lose me, i promise i promise."

"but finn," you said, "don't you get it? i'm not a band aid or a lifeline, i'm a bomb. i will blow you up if you don't leave me before you can even though i don't want you to leave me because you're the only person- "

"and i'll keep being the only person," he talked over you and it frustrated you to even more tears, "i don't care if you blow me up. heck, you blew me away the first time. besides, so what if you're a murderer (which you aren't baby it was a fucking accident and he needs to get that through his fucking skull)? i hate myself for bringing up the stupid movie you love y/n but i don't give two shits what he says you've done because a) i know he's a drunk bastard and b) i will always love you baby more than rose loves leo baby i'll always come back to you, always, i'm going to marry you when my parents let me get married and i'm going to always come back to you even if you yell at me to get out because you're my fucking bomb, do you hear me? you're mine and you're a bomb. so what? you're a good bomb."

"please don't unlove me,"

"baby i'll never unlove you ever ever,"

"promise?"

"yes baby i promise y/n i promise just please tell me you're okay and tell me when you're not okay because it kills me baby it kills me so much,"

"okay finn," you mumbled; you didn't want him to cry anymore, "i promise. i'm sorry for ruining the scene," you looked down at your hands.

"hey," he said firmly, lifting your chin up so you were forced to look at him, "scenes can be re-filmed but i'm going to ask them to film a different one okay? but for now please just tell me you're okay baby,"

"i'm okay finn," you sighed. "sorry you had to put up with that and sorry i made you feel shit,"

"you know you make me feel lots of things n/n," he whispered, "and shit is one of them. and i wouldn't have anyone else make me feel anything else, 'cause i love you. even if you blow me up i love you okay? even if you crash me i'll still love you from hell 'cause we all know that's where i'm going..."

"are you talking about the other night?" you looked up, "because the feeling was totally mutual finn we both wanted it you know that don't be a dick,"

"there she is. also, yeah, that night and that time noah walked in on us jesus," he smiled and hugged your neck, "okay, okay, i love you though y/n. god you have no idea how much i love you..."

"i think i do," you replied softly and he smiled into you.

So this is super long but oh god guys I'm still in love with it ahh...

MASTERLIST - requests are ALWAYS open (depending on what fandom it is!)

[teacup-crow]

Things That Make it Warm

Zombies Run Secret Santa fic for @whirly-wind! Thanks for organising @runnerzero, @goblinsharkz and @notforconsumption. Spoilers up to S5M24 below the cut :)

Hi Mystery! I was so so so excited to get you because you’re always lovely about my writing, especially my Tom/Jody stuff 😍 this is the story of them getting to know each other (with a Christmas involved, because Christmas is romantic right?)

Apologies that it starts off just a LITTLE bit angsty but it’s these two and angst just happens to them. A writer can only do so much. I promise there’s festive fluff in there!

I hope you enjoy this! Merry Christmas!

((Stole the title from a Cavetown song because I hate naming things!))

*****

“Jody’s running slowly, so she’ll give ‘em a good chase.”

She almost has to swallow a laugh at Sam’s sweet admiration. Jody’s running slowly because everything hurts, because this idea is crazy, because it might be the last run ever gazing at an Abel sunrise, orange and pink flecking the horizon, and she wants to see it before-

Boom. The explosion rattles her teeth, her bones, smoke rising behind her. She doesn’t look back. She knows better.

“Miss Marsh! To me!”

Tom grabs her hand and before she can process anything at all they’re sprinting. Her heart and lungs are burning; it’s been months since she ran like this, weeks since her muscles atrophied, and the pain shoots through her legs at every step until she feels nauseous. But they’re running. At some point, she lets the bundle fall from stiff arms, a pile of empty blankets. Tom whispers something, and vanishes into the dust he created.

***

“We are not leaving you here.”

“Ian won’t kill me. He knows I still have some useful things inside my broken noggin.” His smile is lopsided, his eyes slightly glittery. Jody doesn’t know him that well, really, but that look has never been a good one on him. She pats his arm, and it dulls a little. She leaves her hand there.

“Isn’t that a reason to get you out?”

He swallows. “I can’t… I can’t promise that I’ll…”

“You saved my life. You’re coming with us.”

She knows, even though his sister might protest out loud, that Janine is grateful to her for making the call. She knows her so well she can hear that the woman’s shoulders have dropped just a bit in relief.

***

Tom likes Noah Base.

It’s warm, and enclosed, and safe. He can feel the presence of walls around him at all times. When he whistles, it echoes. It’s familiar. 

When he was younger, being inside used to bore him silly. Paperwork was the worst part of the job; as a boy, Jane did his homework more often than not. Back in Karachi, the memories warm and soft as parchment, he’d play football with the neighbourhood kids late into the night, everyone teasing but good-natured, curious about the white boy who spoke Urdu like a local. The calls of other boys’ mothers rang out as the day grew long until at last they’d scatter at the figure of his father, the ambassador cutting a long shadow across the evening, rumbling “Thomas? Thomas? Time to come home.”

A couple of years later, he lay out on the family’s broad flat roof, breathless - hiding from his sister so she wouldn’t see him crying about their parents, about being ripped away from everything and everyone they knew. Hiding from the men from the embassy, so he couldn’t hear the bad news. So they couldn’t take him to England.  Outside there were birds soaring above him, the sun shining like any other day. He didn’t have to confront reality.

And after that, inside meant dull lessons at boarding school far away from Jane, where he actually had to concentrate to keep at the top of the class, and inside meant stuffy offices with stuffy bureaucrats who would never understand the realities of field work no matter how often they were explained, and then inside was three bare walls of concrete and agony and time.

When the open air was no longer a choice, when life became nothing but a cube, six by six, lights off more often than on, inside became more comforting. There, nobody could sneak up behind him. It was easy to keep one eye open. If you stay in the corner, you’re never surrounded. It’s outside where things go horribly wrong. Outside is where the crawling men eat human flesh. Outside is where Jane and the others left him behind. 

And so, years later, England again, he’d slip off his cuffs in his new cell and finally manage to relax enough to rebuild some of his sanity. He knew now that inside isn’t the problem. Being trapped there is.

Noah Base is safe. He can map out the whole place in his head, learn fourteen different escape routes, ranked from worst to best.

Noah Base is better than safe.

Noah Base has Jody in it.

***

Jody, for one, feels cooped up.

It’s okay, at first. Things were worse than this right after the outbreak. She’d stayed in a Tube station for a couple of nights, only peeking her head above ground to try and get decent reception to call her mum. When her phone gave up the ghost, she trekked it out of London. But sometimes, especially now, she still thinks of the noise, the irrepressible heat, sickness already spreading like wildfire. 

It’s okay, at first. She knits. She stretches. Builds up her core strength again. Takes lectures on strategy. Starts to actually read Janine’s notes, to Sam’s disgust. She keeps positive as morale begins to drop, until one morning she doesn’t get out of bed at all. 

Tom arrives at her door with a plate of cold toast and strawberry jam.

“You weren’t at breakfast.”

Of course. He notices everything.

“I wasn’t hungry,” she replies, then bites her lip. If anything, the latest messages from Abel make her far too sick to eat. Steve, inexhaustibly flirtatious, convivial, suave Steve, had sounded shattered. Half-rations. Quarter-rations. Ian’s getting… more unbalanced. Kefi reckons half the town is anaemic.

“Come in if you like, I’m decent.”

“You need to eat something,” he insists, pushing the door ajar and handing the plate up to her. She sits up, back against the wall, and tries to give him a wobbly smile.

“What’s the matter, Miss Marsh?”

“I just… can’t believe we left them.”

And she bursts into tears. He pats her arm.

He doesn’t rationalise anything to her.

He thinks that, just maybe, it’s worse to be the leaver than the left.

***

She’s so strong.

He watches her with a bow and arrow hit one- two- three targets in the centre, more accurate and deadly than his own hand with a pistol. She swings up the climbing frame like a monkey, upside down and ten feet in the air. The gym in Noah Base is cramped - what isn’t? - but training is manageable with the lack of equipment to fill the space. Peter - the man who found them this place, the man with the silver tongue, the man who hurt his sister - is at the weights. He’s always in Tom’s peripheral vision; Jane only puts him there to keep an eye, he knows that.

“Whoop!” Jody swings down from the ropes triumphantly and rolls to a halt. He clicks the stopwatch.

“One-forty-seven. Your fastest time yet, Miss Marsh. That was excellent.”

“You can stop calling me that any time you like, you know.”

“Nonsense. What would I call you then?”

She looks up at him, quite serious. He’s maybe a foot taller than she is. He’s a madman. A murderer. But there’s not an ounce of fear in her gaze, not anymore. When her hair is tied back like that, he can see her face properly, the fading freckles, soft straight hair, her laughing eyes, the cleft in her chin, the birthmark on her cheek.

“...Jody’s fine, Tom.”

“I… yes.” He blinks away in embarrassment. “If you would prefer that name. Yes.”

“Not if it makes you uncomfortable. Anyway, I’m going to try that again. I just know I can beat you.”

“And then you’ll take a break?”

“We’ll see,” she grins, and jogs back to the start.

She’s not only physically strong; she’s been through so much and she hasn’t let it harden her. She looks at every new day like an opportunity, a sunrise, swallowing back the bitter pill of life with orange juice. Not like him. He’s so far past broken he doesn’t even remember what wholeness tastes like; some important part of his soul still lies in that cage, rotting. So how can he be falling in love?

***

It just doesn’t feel like Christmastime.

The last few Christmases have fallen into some kind of routine, at least. They were bare and hard but everyone was together, kids faces lighting up as they decorated the township, people working together to make it as okay as possible. A bit more frivolity, a bit more food. 

It’s December already, and nobody has even mentioned it.

Steve hasn’t sent a message in a good while, and the radio silence is making all of them itchy. Five’s been gone for weeks; Cameo’s probably dead. Everyone she cares about is probably-

“Jodes? Can you help me with this?”

It’s Tom, sprawled on his stomach on her bedroom floor, attempting to darn a sock and failing miserably. She laughs.

“They didn’t have darning as a class at Harrow?”

“Not that I remember, but I can recite some Latin at you if you’d like.” 

“That sounds extremely helpful.” She swings down from the bunk and looks closer. “Have you just been tying knots in this?”

“I was trying to…” he stares at the sock in his hands with a rueful expression. “It appears that yes, I have just been tying knots in it.”

“Okay,” she sits down cross-legged and takes it from him to start unpicking. “At least you’re honest.”

“Where did you learn to sew and knit?”

“Our church hall ran a youth club. They’d do snacks and activities after school most days, and Mum always liked us out doing something; there were four of us and she didn’t want us under her feet all afternoon. I was a big fan of the needlework table. Who knew it would come in so handy, hey?”

“I have underestimated it.” 

He rests his chin on his hands, intently watching her work. Her fingers are so small and quick compared to his. Her gaze flits between the sock and his face. It’s weathered and worn but she still sees warmth and handsomeness there, between the cracks in his scarred armour. The way he’s kept an eye on her every day since that breakfast, just to make sure she’s holding up. She shakes her head, and passes it back to him.

She can’t fall in love with Janine’s brother.

***

It’s the day before Christmas Eve, and Sam hasn’t let Five out of his sight for more than two consecutive hours since they got back to Noah Base, his hand stuck to theirs with glue. They’d normally protest this, but yet another dusting of horror and shadow under their eyes has cut their counterargument short. They nod to Jody when they see her request, and make some excuse about going to ask Janine about work assignments, hobbling a little on a twisted ankle. She appreciates it.

“Sam! Finally got you alone for a minute!”

“Jody! What can I do for you?”

He’s almost himself again, grinning at her from the chaotic comms desk that he’s tacked a bit of tinsel to. She can nearly forget the sound of his screaming last week when Five practically died in that godforsaken maze. It turns out nobody is better at picking up and piecing back together than Sam Yao.

“How did you know that… how did you…”

She pushes the door closed, and clears her throat. “How did you know that you liked Five?”

 His grin broadens. “Jody, you like someone?”

“Shut up.”

“I thought you didn’t have crushes!”

“I didn’t. I don’t. Well, maybe I do. I don’t know!”

“Well, describe it to me.”

“It’s like…” God, his smile is dopey. “Stop looking at me like that, Sam, you’re putting me off! It’s like… every time I look at him I feel warm, and the world feels a little bit softer, more yellow, and I just want to protect him. Like, I’d die happy if I knew he’d be safe. And his face. His jawline. I… you’re giggling!”

“Tell me more, tell me more!”

She lobs a stack of rotas at him half-heartedly. He ducks.

“He’s just… so clever and so kind. And he’s still hurting, and I wish he would stop.” She sighs, warming to her theme. “Janine will go mad with me if she hears about it.”

Sam’s face goes slack with shock. “Oh my God. You like Peter?”

“Jesus Christ, Sam, no! I like Tom!”

“Oh, that makes so much more sense!” He chuckles, and then adds: “You do know he’s still a bit...”

“And Five isn’t?”

It comes out defensive, and she immediately wishes she’d bit her tongue, but he doesn’t get annoyed. He shrugs. 

“You’re right, Five isn’t well either. Both of them have been through… stuff we can’t even imagine. Done things that people maybe shouldn’t forgive.”

“Who hasn’t.” Jody says darkly. 

“Exactly. Their hearts are in the right place, but… just be careful, Jodes.”

Lines like but he would never hurt me and things are different now are not lines she likes to have run through her head. She heard those lines often enough as a little girl, when her brother Cameron was still in nappies and she herself barely out of them but already knowing they were lies. Her mum’s taste in men had got better by the time she’d had the twins, but Jody didn’t forget. She’d vowed to never, ever need anyone that volatile that much. 

And yet - here she is.

“So. How’d you know you liked Five?”

“I just,” he flushes. “One day I woke up and just knew. My heart belonged to them. I couldn’t get it back. When they’re not around… it hurts.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s it. Oh Sam, what am I going to do?”

“You could just tell him?”

“Yeah. No.” She swings around in the office chair as she talks. “What if he doesn’t feel the same? What if I make him uncomfortable? He’s going through a lot still, deep down, and I don’t want to add to it, or put him under any pressure.”

“He’s a six foot three MI6 Commander, Jodes, I somehow don’t think you’ll be pressuring him into anything.”

“I suppose... but you keep your mouth closed, no matter what, okay? I don’t want to hear this anywhere outside of this room.”

“Just tell him you like him!” Sam calls after her as she heads back down the corridor.

***

“You’re coming to me for advice about women?”

Tom’s already realised that this was probably a bad idea, but he can’t exactly back out now. “I mean? Jane likes you.”

“Janine’s Janine. She’s… well, I know she’s your sister but she’s not like other women.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, she’s…” he’s flustered. “She’s amazing.”

“And other women aren’t amazing?”

“Fair point, fair point,” he raises his hands. 

Tom runs a hand through his hair. It’s thinning. When did he get old? So much of his youth was wasted. 

“Jody is beautiful and talented and so good. She’s got this… hope about her. This luck. I feel like nothing could truly go wrong when I’m beside her.”

Peter nods. “And what does she think?”

“I have no idea, but she can do a lot better than me. She’s seen me ranting and raving out of my wits, and I’m ten years older, and… just look at me, Pete. I’m mostly scar tissue.”

Peter does, up and down.

“You’re very good looking to me, Colonel,” he winks at last. Tom snorts. Maybe the bloke isn’t so bad.

“You must have had relationships before, though? Surely? The way Janine always put it you’d think you were James Bond. A different person on your arm every day of the week.”

“I mean, I did. Of course. Lots of people. Nothing serious, but… that was so long ago. Before… before my head became a mess. When I could tell truth from lie as easy as up from down. These days, I’m not even sure if you’re in front of me. If I squint, I might lose you completely.”

Peter doesn’t know what to say to that. Tom’s introspective seriousness has always made him uncomfortable. 

“Anyway, enough of all that rambling. I’m going to give her this.” He proffers a wicked-looking weapon. “For Christmas, I mean. Do you think she’ll like it?”

“An automatic crossbow?” Peter whistles. “Romantic. Right up her alley. She’ll love it.”

He nods in gratitude. “I appreciate you listening. Before you ask, Janey will love the ringbinder full of poetry you put together.”

“How did you know about that!” Peter is ashen, mortified.

“The name’s Bond, James Bond.” Tom throws the line over his shoulder as he wanders away.

***

Their Christmas is a quiet one, but perhaps more festive than anyone expected. Someone dims the base’s lights with crepe paper, and Amelia emerges from her quarters with a bottle of champagne. “Not as a gift, you understand,” she impresses firmly, “but as a service to myself. Being around you lot is making me bloody miserable. Put some smiles on, for once!”

Someone else has found a flock of wild geese and thanks to Jody’s crossbow the residents of Noah Base feast like Victorian paupers made kings. Janine taps her glass, makes a speech about times being tough and the importance of finding the things to celebrate. “I salute you all for your fortitude and bravery. This time next year, we will be with our friends and families again. It’s only a matter of time before we take our home back.” She’s got good at these at this point. They all raise a cheer, at least.

 Tom and Jody talk long into the evening about everything they can think of that isn’t the last decade. Childhood stories, mostly: Tom and his football friends accidentally crashing a wedding and causing a minor diplomatic incident; the prank war with next door that Jody and her brothers got into one summer; Tom, Janine and General Bakari’s three-way chess matches; Jody nearly burning the house down attempting to make her mum breakfast in bed. Debates over Doctor Who episodes lead into arguments over the best Quality Street chocolate until they’re the last people still awake.

“D’you believe in God?” She asks, at some point, hazy under piles of blankets in front of the heater they’ve powered for the occasion. He’s wearing the new jumper she made him (“I’m sorry it’s bottle green, it was the only wool we had enough of but it’ll bring out your eyes, I reckon”) and leafing through the pamphlet of beginners knitting patterns she’d painstakingly copied out and tucked inside it. 

He chews his lip, lost in thought, his mind straying back to Algeria even as he takes her hand in the present. “No. I used to. I was a chorister when I was a boy.”

“Seriously? One of those ones in Westminster Abbey? My mum always used to listen to them!”

“Yes! I loved it!” He laughs. “Only did the Christmas service once, though. I got bronchitis the next year, and after that my voice broke. But it was the first time I started enjoying life in England. When we stepped outside after the service, that was also the first time I saw snow. I thought it was a miracle. Janey told me not to be so ridiculous, so I put a snowball down the back of her coat.”

“I can’t get over how posh you are. Did you have to wear robes?” It’s the biggest he’s seen her smile in ages. He laughs again at the look on her face.

“Yes, I had to wear robes.”

“If there are no photos left of this, I’ll never forgive your sister.”

“What about you? Why did you ask about God?”

“I don’t know: I was just wondering. True meaning of Christmas, and all that. I used to think at the start of all this that if He did exist, he must have a pretty sick sense of humour. But I’m not sure, I don’t think it’s all that black and white anymore. Maybe He’s just tired of us.”

“Perhaps He’s on a long holiday. He’ll check in next millenia. Until then, we’ll have to figure it out for ourselves.”

She falls asleep not long after that, her head on his chest. He loves her so much his ribs ache.

Maybe there is a God, if a feeling like this can exist. If the two of them can find each other, despite everything. If he can leave so much behind, and lose so much, and still be so happy.

[thecoyotescry]

Long hair Noah! Long hair Noah! Long hair Noah!

[cloveroctobers]

GARY RENNELL —

IG info/bio | @/rennellnotreynolds | 300k followers | currently havin a midlife crisis at thee moment so cheers! 🍻🏋🏼‍♂️🤨

23 (24) years old

Born & raised in Chatham, England there’s no other place like it to him. Sure when he went on holiday to the villa, it was quite nice but nothing ever beats home. He genuinely believes that he’s meant to be in this place since it’s all he’s ever known & doesn’t think he’ll live anywhere else

Raised by his nan & is an only child. Was at risk of being placed in foster care until his paternal nan came forth to raise him

His father and nan did not have the best relationship due to the way he chose to live his life and Gary was kept away from his nan until he was about 10 years of age

Does not like to talk about his birth parents due to the trauma, which is why he feels like his nan is his everything. His savior and why she means so much to him

His nan once told him that he favors his mother, Gail. He never had the chance to really know her, but was aware that she was very unhappy with herself &, “chose to be with the stars” just before his 5th birthday

That’s one of the reasons why he finds himself always looking up at the stars, usually when he’s drunk out at the docks by himself, he’ll try to talk to his mom, to know her better

I feel like he’s either a cancer or a Libra?

Update: Cancer sun + libra moon + Taurus rising

Went to uni for a semester and thought about architecture as a profession but ultimately felt like uni was NOT for him and eventually juggled around with jobs until he landed into the crane operator field which he found himself to be great at

For as long as he and his nan can remember, he always loved playing with cars, ships, building Legos, (I’m American idk if this is a thing there too or it’s something different/similar so my apologies lol) and putting things together. He never cared for reading instructions, Gary’s a hands on type of guy/learner and it’s how he best communicates

He likes heights, so this job wasn’t an issue it was just getting through the program for 2-3 years that was a pain in his ass but he was determined + knew this was what he was good at and stuck with it.

It was tiring working 40 sometimes over 40 hrs a week but he’s passionate about his work so he’d never dare change it

Due to this job being a lot physically, he would use muscle cream to help his pain or pay to see a masseuse whenever he could or wasn’t being cheap about it + often buys epsom salt to bathe in 3 or so times a week 

Total penny pincher! I can see him being so, his dad told him all about how to hold onto what he’s got and always look for a bargain but with a gambler for a father, you can only imagine how that worked in his favor

Lives with his nan and doesn’t see an issue with it. His mates definitely tease him about it but know how much the woman means to him but still think it’s a major c*ck block for him but it’s a two for one package deal and anyone who doesn’t understand that doesn’t deserve him

Will probably still live in her house once IF she p*sses

Nan is a big fan of wallpaper and has one room in the flat that has squeaky plastic covering most of her furniture ( she loves furniture shopping) & only takes it off once her lady friends come over with consists of a huge cleaning routine which Gary secretly hates but pushes through it while she plays some old tunes on her jukebox

He finds himself singing those exact songs when he’s getting ready for work and actually enjoys them...but don’t ever tell his mates that!

His nan taught him basic household care & he finds himself scolding his mates for not knowing how to wash their underwear & always taking it to their mum’s or having their girlfriends do it for them

Loves washing clothes on a Sunday in the backyard + hanging them on the clothes line. His nan doesn’t believe in washer machines & makes her own detergent

He’s always down for a rooftop hangout, whether drunk or not. To be up almost as high as the stars is such a feeling or hang out with his mates laughing it up

Occasionally smokes cigarettes when he’s really stressed, he’s not proud of the nasty habit and tries his hardest to hide it from his nan & Lottie but they both know

Is in a on and off again relationship with Lottie. She’s met his nan, they both like each other. And that makes Gary extremely happy

Gary is the laid back one out of the two and Lottie is firey and needs constant reminding from Gary that he wants to be with her whereas Gary feels like that’s something she should already know and he’s told her a couple of times before, he’s sure of it. He doesn’t get why she doesn’t get that

Which results in arguments. Lottie chose to live in England for half of the year and goes back to Australia for the other half. Nan encouraged Lottie to live with the two of them until she decided to get her own place in England, or rather the two of them together. Nan doesn’t believe Gary will leave in fear of her being lonely, which she’s not! By all means, nan keeps busy! But Lottie desperately wants to have her own space with Gary away from nan, even tho she adores the spunky lady.

When they don’t see eye to eye she does what she does best and leaves, which is exhausting to Gary

They’ll go days without speaking until the other cracks. At first it would be Gary but since it’s been a year into their relationship, he’s gotten used to it and let’s her come back to him when she’s ready

He cares for Lottie, he really does. And wants this to work but he just wishes they could be more secure in their relationship.

Was a f*ckboy way back when from 18-20 and rarely there’s his old flings who show up just to cause drama knowing that Gary’s got a new girl in his life that LIVES with him, which Gary dreads that this small town knows his business. He hates confrontation but there’s one thing about Lottie, she’s never going to bite her tongue. So whenever those girls do try it with not only her but Gary she goes off.

Gary is protective too so when those messy girls start shit at the pub, he’s instantly trying to get Lottie away from the issue. Then there’s drinks flying and slap fights happening + hair pulling & they’re getting kicked out of the club/pub or even cops called on them.

“This blows. I thought you said you were trying to be better than this, Lottie.” “Me? What about those slags?! They attack not only me but your character too!” Which adds to a list of the reasons they fight.

Nonetheless they do have their fun moments together, getting drunk by the docks, getting random tattoos, hanging with his friends & their significant others, + going to the theatre

Lottie still thinks this town is very slow-pace, sleepy, cloudy and hardly has sun— which is okay to her some days but other day’s it can be dreadful and much different from her fast-pace life but she finds the little things like spending time with Gary to encourage her to stay

Gary likes playing games when he has his free time, like fortnite, red dead redemption, Final fantasy, & SUPER SMASH BROS & almost always plays with Ibrahim who informs him about new games which makes Lottie want to slam her head against the wall since that can take hours

Keeps in touch with all of the boys in villa and makes sure they have zoom meetings as much as they can because he cares about those boys. Noah tries to schedule them but usually it’s happens at random which annoys him but he gets over it. Gary spent month(s) with them. They’re basically his extended family & that’s saying a lot since he views his home to a high standard and has friends here but they’re nothing like his villa brother’s

Also into woodwork. He didn’t think he’d enjoy it but he likes to do it more when the weather gets crisp and he battles with that over cigarettes to ease his worries in life, then goes and have his daily dose of tea

Finally stopped dying his hair that awful yellow and stuck with it. Marisol was the first to see it, after an accidental FaceTime call which was supposed to be just a regular phone call but whatever? They’d all eventually see it if he EVER decided to post to his IG stories!

She compliments him in Spanish yanking her glasses off leaving him highly confused, “is that good?” “If Lottie doesn’t sit on your— which leaves Gary very wide eyed opposed to his raised brows but Marisol is cut off by Graham clearing his throat

Lottie does indeed like it & shows him how much and later asks his option on what color she should dye her hair next. 3 out of the 13 look the exact same to Gary. But he helps her dye her hair which comes out patchy but there’s no way in hell she’s letting anyone else touch her hair. She’s been doing this all on her own for some time now. Gary’s lucky she even allowed him to help her! So she dyes it back to blonde, all of it, and waits a few weeks to dye it all blue

Gary’s definitely into old boy bands especially LFO & serenades, “girl on tv” to Lottie all the time, likes 98 degrees, Backstreet Boys, *NSYNC, Boys II men, & Dru Hill

As for modern day music, he LOVES to work out to tame impala which never makes sense to his mates but he usually works out the next day after getting shit-faced, he’s also in love with lizzo’s music, laundry day, brockhampton, & rina sawayama

Anthem = mac demarco, “Salad Days”

Celeb crush? Julia Roberts, Salma Hayek, Anne-Marie, Leona Lewis, & Noah Cyrus

[thecoyotescry]

I need long hair Noah like a fish needs fucking water!!!

[army-of-mai-lovers]

hello arthur!! tbh people are being terrible in your inbox and the last ask killed my brain cells so this is your free bingo card to talk about anything you like. also sometimes googling sharks with human teeth (exactly what it sounds like) helps!! much love <3

oh my gosh I’m OBSESSED with these photos they’re so cute!!!! and thank you for the bingo card Effie I appreciate it so much. I’m gonna rant about Deadly Class (a show I definitely don’t like and thus don’t run a fan blog for....smh) bc it’s on my mind and it looks like it’s just going to go quietly into that good night instead of being made fun of and dissected and I think that should change bc goodness gracious that show does not deserve a dignified death. also I’m gonna put this rant under a readmore bc this is gonna be long and it has nothing to do w atla. warnings for discussions of racism, callous mentions of murder and death, swearing, discussion of Nazis, discussion of gore, abuse ment

Okay so for those not in the know (which is probably everyone considering the show was on Syfy and it’s being canceled due to low viewership) Deadly Class is a teen murder drama set in the late ‘80s starring Lana Condor, which makes it sound like it was engineered in a lab to appeal to me. Literally my friend and I were in the middle of watching Schitt’s Creek, which I adore, and she was like “well I heard about this show called Deadly Class” and described it and I was like fuck Schitt’s Creek we’re watching this. It had a 64% on Rotten Tomatoes, which usually makes me nervous, but I was literally like “I don’t care because I know I’m going to love it.” 

And well. I did not love it. 

I truly do not understand how one fucks up “teenagers (mostly) of color go to murder boarding school in the late ‘80s” that bad (I mean the Russo brothers are involved and they fuck up everything they touch so perhaps it was just that). I haven’t read the comic the show is based on but it does appear that a *lot* of the issues of the show stem from the comic, which is...disappointing. Basically, our MC, Marcus, starts off the show homeless after his group home burned down (and it’s heavily implied that he was the one to do it) and gets hunted down by these elite teenage murderers who invite them to their murder school. 

Already, numerous problems are starting to show themselves. First of all, Marcus is Latino, which, yes, it’s very cool that the MC is Latino, except he is literally the white-passingest man I’ve ever seen in my life, and I’ve seen my dad. I didn’t realize that he was Latino until they showed his extremely stupid backstory in a shitty animated sequence and whoever was voicing his dad did this really, really thick Nicaraguan accent and I was like wait a damn minute. So then, I looked it up, and the guy playing Marcus is named Benjamin Wadsworth, which immediately made me think that they had pulled a Noah Centineo and made me think this fully white actor was half Latino (and yes, Latinos can be white, but I think Marcus is supposed to be a nonwhite Latino, and I thought Benjamin Wadsworth was both white and non-Latino). But you know, as an light skinned ethnically ambiguous mixed kid myself, I thought I owed it to him to dig a little deeper, and turns out our pal Ben is mixed (also, he’s like six months older than me and married, which is a trip). And like, okay, I guess I’m glad they didn’t get a white non-Latino man to play a Latino character, but they literally got the whitest looking Latino they could think of to play him. He originally auditioned for Billy. Billy’s the token white. And the producers were like “wait you have Latino ancestry?” (how they found that out I don’t fucking know) and let him go for Marcus. And like. Okay. The character in the comics is light-skinned but he does not look white, and Benjamin is not a good enough actor for them to just pass on the actors who surely auditioned for that role and were more visibly Latino but like. Okay, I guess. 

Second of all, this show is mega racist and it starts to reveal itself when you look at how the murder kids are styled in literally their first appearance. What struck me the most was the fact that the Latina (whose name is fucking Maria, for heaven’s sake) was wearing a sexy red dress and Day of the Dead makeup, which, I’m sorry, huh? That just so happens to be the Mexican girl’s murder outfit? I’ve tried to give them the benefit of the doubt and speculate that maybe she wears it to like, subvert people’s expectations, but at this point idk how this is subverting anyone’s expectations nor why she’d be so invested in that. Also, she’s supposed to be a teenager. It’s fucked up to sexualize any of your child characters but it really hits different when it’s your Latina character (and yeah, I know the actress playing Maria isn’t a teenager, but still, it’s the principle of the thing). And then of course, the Black guy, Willie (no he’s not related to Billy they were just like yeah two guys with rhyming names in our main cast sounds legit) is a gangbanger dude who talks the way that white people think Black people talk. I keep waiting for this guy to have one line that’s not complete garbage, but I’m five episodes deep and so far nada, which sucks so bad because there’s like, kernels of an interesting character buried in this horrible racist trope. Also, they had him sleep with a N*zi. I hate it here. Lana Condor (her character’s name is Saya) gets off fairly okay, at least in this first shot (they don’t have her wearing a kimono to go murder people, thank fuck), but the way she behaves is super weird, like kinda flirty towards Marcus, kinda badass but not enough to actually do anything, etc. Billy’s white so they couldn’t make him a racist caricature or anything but I have no idea why he’s here. See, instead of talking about the real politics of the real world, Deadly Class makes up fake prejudice that honestly makes the lok bender/nonbender bullshit look sensible. Maria, Willie, and Saya are Legacies, which means that their families are established murderers (fun fact: the N*zi girl is also a Legacy, because her father murdered hundreds of civil rights activists. And the characters of color align themselves with her. I don’t understand.) Billy, and later Marcus when he decides to go to murder school, are Rats, meaning they have no affiliation with established murder groups. So, in this show, the people of color have privilege over the (mostly white) Rats. Make it make sense. Further, this means that Maria, Saya, and Willie should have absolutely no reason to hang out with Billy, and yet they do because the Russo brothers have heard that the kids these days like the found family trope, so they put five unlikely friends in a room together and insinuated that they could all be besties. I swear, this show is the La Croix of found family tho, in that there is absolutely no flavor whatsoever. None of the characters develop into a found family. Saya is bound to care for Marcus for reasons, Maria is using him, Willie is also using him, and Billy is only his friend because they’re both Rats. Saya and Maria are already friends (and honestly their friendship is the most compelling thing in the whole show). There are no other connections between the characters. But they’re totes a found family!!!!/s

Also, they don’t let Saya be mean. Every character says “oh Saya’s such a bitch” but do we ever see Saya being a bitch??? No! Saya is literally just a nice girl who is kinda quiet sometimes and murders people and has a tragic backstory. There’s an argument to be made for Maria being more bitchy than her tbh. And like, fine, if you want Saya to be nice, she can be nice, but stop telling me she’s mean then!!! If you’re gonna tell me that I’m gonna get to see mean Lana Condor in a leather jacket in this show then deliver bitch. 

There’s truly so much more I could talk about (Chico??? What the fuck is Chico’s arc???? What in the actual hell were they thinking when they were writing anything to do with Chico????? my DUDES WHAT IN THE SAM HELL. also making Billy straight was so fucking stupid he’s literally gay come on now, also Master Lin is so fucking useless what is he even doing here) but instead I’m going to outline the version of Deadly Class my friend and I have been talking about while we watch the inferior real Deadly Class. 

lots of things are the same actually because there are some elements of the show that have potential. Marcus is still homeless at the beginning, everybody still thinks he burned down the group home but he didn’t, Willie is still a pacifist, he and Marcus are still partners for their first murder school assignment, Saya’s mean (but like actually), Billy still has green hair and is the token white of the group (although a Billy of color.....thinking), and they all hate Reagan

in an ideal world Willie and Maria would have different names (Willie bc his name rhymes with Billy’s and that’s fucking stupid, also Willie is just a terrible name in general, Maria partially because it sounds way too similar to Marcus and I don’t understand why the guy who wrote this couldn’t make his characters have different sounding names, and partially because no Latina character of mine is going to be named fucking Maria), but for the purposes of this outline I’ll keep their names the same for clarity.

Marcus doesn’t initially have his rep. He’s on the streets when he sees a girl his age (Saya) come out of this elevator in the back of a restaurant brandishing a sword, and decides to go into the elevator, sees the stash of weapons, and decides to steal one so he can fend for himself better. 

also keeping the detail of Rory murdering a bunch of homeless kids, but now Marcus knows that Rory is actively hunting him down. 

in the process of robbing the school’s weapons collection, Marcus figures out that it’s a murder school

Master Lin catches Marcus robbing the school, they fight, Master Lin overpowers Marcus and ties him up. He says the weapons are for students only, and Marcus says he’s applying. Lin asks what his qualifications are, and Marcus says “you know that group home that burned down three months ago? all the kids that died? I started the fire.” 

(also no shade to Benjamin Wadsworth but in this version he is not playing Marcus. Marcus is not white-passing)

Master Lin initially doesn’t believe him, but Marcus presses on and eventually convinces Master Lin that this is really what happened, and so Lin welcomes him to murder school. 

Marcus’s first class is Poisons, and his lab partner is Billy, who takes a shine to him and shows him around school. There’s no Legacy/Rat nonsense, but you do have normal high school drama adapted slightly for murder school. Maria is the prettiest and most popular girl in school, Saya is the mean girl/valedictorian, Willie is the jock, and Billy’s the punky weirdo. 

Marcus is, of course, the new kid with a reputation to live up to. 

Things kind of fall apart when Willie and Marcus are paired up for an assignment: to seek revenge on somebody. 

also Willie’s backstory is extremely different. his dad was a Black Panther, and he was murdered by the FBI when Willie was a kid. distraught, his mom moved to Texas, where she started working a corporate job and rose really high in the ranks. To maintain her status in the company, she had to do some really horrible things, including working with the FBI to take down other civil rights activists. Willie found out about this and was absolutely horrified. his mother insisted she was doing this so that he could have a better life, but he refused to listen to her, and ran away, and ended up at murder school. 

Willie got into murder school because Lin knows who his mom is, and assumes that Willie is just as cutthroat as she is. he gains a reputation as well. 

also, Willie’s extremely wealthy, and this shows in the way he dresses (preppy jock vibes)

you don’t find out about this backstory for a minute tho bc unlike Albert Kim and the Russo Brothers, I can wait until the right opportunity presents itself for a backstory drop. 

ok anyway back to what I was saying earlier

they have to seek revenge on somebody. Marcus asks Willie if there’s anybody he wants revenge on, and Willie very sincerely says no. Marcus scoffs at him and says he’s clearly had a very easy life, to which Willie replies, “Well, who do you want revenge on?” 

Marcus immediately says, “Rory.” 

So they track Rory down, and since Marcus hasn’t actually killed anybody, he hands the weapons over to Willie. Willie frowns and says that he has nothing against this dude he’s never met before, so Marcus should be the one to hurt him. Marcus says that this is a group project and Willie’s got to pull his weight, and they get into an argument

the argument gets loud, and Rory hears them fighting and starts chasing them. 

in the midst of the chase, both of them divulge their secrets to one another. Willie laughs hysterically and says that they deserve each other bc they both lied to get where they are, and now they’re going to die because of it

Rory backs them into a corner, and Marcus uses one of the swords he tried to steal earlier to shank Rory

They throw the body in a dumpster, and after this, they’re friends, and Marcus decides he’ll fit right in at murder school. 

ok so that was only one episode but things to look forward to in the version of Deadly Class that only exists in me and my friend’s heads: Marcus dealing with the emotional and moral fallout of his first murder, Willie trying to figure out what it means to be a pacifist in a world so hellbent on doing violence towards him, Saya being mean to everyone except Maria, Maria convincing Saya to relax and have fun, the gang bonding in a Breakfast Club style situation adapted for murder school and making a joke about how this is like the Breakfast Club because it’s the 80s and the movie just came out, Saya and Maria falling in lesbians, Marcus and Saya being depressing edgelord besties, Billy being gay and fighting his abusive father, Marcus and Billy being uncool weirdo bffs, Willie and Maria rolling their eyes at Marcus and Saya’s cynicism, Billy coming out to Marcus and talking about his experiences being gay, which makes Marcus think “hang on, why do I relate to that?”, Willie seeing Marcus make a sarcastic comment about kissing a guy and having a crisis, Marcus and Willie falling in love, the gang taking a road trip to Vegas to murder Billy’s dad and giving Billy a gnc thrift store makeover on the way, and eventually the gang murdering the shit out of Ronald Reagan. 

[siya-batmann]

Epilouge for turtles all the way down.

I realized the book didnt have one so i thought about writing it on my own, im not that great at writing fan fic but i hope you guys like it. Enjoy <3

I liked to think that everything works out in the end, and it almost did, but then I saw him. There he was, in line for a Dr.pepper, with his handsome face, and unruly hair and the memories came flooding back. 

I thought to myself, shit, what do I do, do i look good? Do I go up to him?Maybe I shouldn't. But what if it was one of those times where I regretted not doing something? I should just  go, no I wanna stay. GO. STAY. 

Then all of a sudden he looked at me and a huge smile spread across his face

He’s coming here, I think to myself , god what do i do, what do i say?? tell him you still love him oh my god no, tell him you're married, WHAT NO ? okay but what if he's married ? AHHH why is this happening to me? 

“Hi”, he said, i forgot how to respond for a moment, and then he smiled again “what's going on in your spiral, right now”, “You”,i say without thinking “not in a creepy way tho”, he laughs, “how are you ?”,  “I’m good, though the spiral hasn't left me, which I guess is pretty evident, but I'm getting better. Still can’t kiss someone without freaking out tho, what about you ?How are you? How's Noah?”,  “He's good, he has grown up to be a good guy, although I still have my doubts” I laughed, “So what are you doing here ?”, “Oh nothing just missed home, i guess”. This was followed by a minute of awkward silence and then he said  “It was great to meet you again, but I guess I should get going”, ”Yeah I should too”. 

 Before going we both looked at each other with this longing gaze, his dark brown eyes were more alluring than ever, I tried not to succumb to the crazy entropy of this thing between us and then finally,  he said “goodbye, aza”, I smiled “Goodbye, Davis”and he was gone. Again.  

As for my life, I wasn't lying when I said I'm getting better, I still haven”t had c. diff. and  honestly i'm not as fearful as i was anymore. I now teach biology in a university, not far from home. My mom has retired, and I really really hope her baking days do too, ever since she has stopped working, she keeps making me cookies and I just don't have the heart to tell her how terrible they are. As for Daisy, she's now a successful writer and still my best friend. She got engaged to Mychal last summer and I know I'm not the only one surprised by the fact that she said yes.

I still haven't been able to be in a long term relationship but I think I can live with it. I love my job, my friends and my family, and that’s all I need. 

I went home and looked up davis’s blog, i realized i hadn't checked it in a long time 

 “Now I will believe that there are unicorns.”

                                                                                    ― William Shakespeare ,The Tempest

I met her today, after 25 years. They keep saying that you'll always remember the first person you love, but I don't think that the word ‘remember’ captures how you feel at the moment. I felt something that could never be put into words. I'm in a reverie that I do not want to come out of. If only, we’d gotten more time, if only. 

All of a sudden my phone buzzed. 

Daisy : Yo holmesy, we found the old canoe and Mychal fixed it up, you up for a ride to pirate’s island ?

Me : Be there in 5. 

In a few minutes, it was just me and Daisy, floating through the still river. The boat was big enough for us to lie down, and so we did. We looked at the trees that leaned over the water in search of more sunlight. It was as if nothing had changed in these 25 years.

I told her about my short interaction with Davis and what he wrote. 

I told her how much i wanted to go to columbia, and how much i wanted to be with him, but i couldn't, i couldn't just leave indianapolis, i couldn't just leave mom.

All Daisy said was , ”break hearts not promises, holmesly.”

��We passed under a dead , leafless tree and I looked up through its branches which intersected the blue sky into all kinds of irregular polygons, and sang “You're. The one. You're the one that I choose. The one I'll never lose. You're my forever. My stars. My sky. My air. It's you. 

As I sang, I realized that in the course of time, I had become the author, and I wasn't just pretending anymore.I realized that Spirals grow infinitely small the farther you follow them inward, but they also grow infinitely large the farther you follow them out.

I had stopped looking for the turtle at the bottom because I finally knew, that It’s turtles all the way fucking down. 

[ghosttotheparty]

say my name and say it twice (cotton candy skies)

28. also on AO3 chapter twenty seven

It’s not that Lucas isn’t happy.

He is happy. Truly, really, entirely. He wasn’t expecting to be happy if he’s honest. He was kind of expecting to be alone for the most part. Moving in with a cousin he hadn’t seen in years, with two strangers he didn’t even know by name before the day he was moving boxes into his room, he wasn’t expecting to be very happy, wasn’t expecting to look forward to coming home in the evening, to play board games and cook while watching Milan and Senne slow dance to an upbeat, electronic song that’s in no way a song to sway to. He wasn’t expecting to have people who are actually supportive of his art, to have people ask to see what he’s working on, to have people ask questions, about how long it takes or what materials he uses. He wasn’t expecting people to surprise him with new sketchbooks (complete with a red, metallic bow, though it’s months until the holidays, thanks to Milan) and pencils.

He wasn’t expecting to have friends, wasn’t expecting to have a friend to talk about art with, to text about a work in progress that he’s having trouble with. He wasn’t expecting to have plans with said friend, plans to meet up at a cafe and bring sketchbooks, plans to hang out, something he hadn’t really done (except with Jens) since moving. Especially because he isn’t even going to school in person, he’d expected to spend most of his time in his room, studying and working and drawing and painting.

He certainly wasn’t expecting to have a boyfriend. He had honestly expected to not date, not even talk to anyone, until university.

But here he is.

Feeling more comfortable, more safe, more him than he’d ever felt before. No one asks about his nails, painted a sparkly, light pink, or about the thin black lines above his lashlines. (Jens had gazed at him as he spoke, his eyes flicking back and forth between Lucas’s before Lucas finally let out an exasperated “What?” at Jens’s distracted behaviour, forgetting he was wearing it. Jens had smiled and said quietly “The eyeliner looks pretty,” and Lucas had been so overwhelmed with joy, with relief, that he’d just leaned in and kissed him, forgetting completely about what he was telling Jens.) Nobody questions the sheer button-downs in the laundry room or the butterfly hair clips and makeup brushed scattered across his desk. Things he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing in Utrecht, things he wouldn’t mention to his friends (except Ralph and Noah, maybe), things he would hide away in the back of his closet (he’s aware of the irony), things he would bury under other clothes, in boxes under his bed.

He doesn’t have to be afraid here, doesn’t have to hide, doesn’t feel like he has to hide. He leaves his things out, grins sheepishly when Zoë scolds him for leaving his makeup out in the bathroom because it gets mixed up with hers.

He feels safe. Secure. Comfortable. Limitless.

But when he remembers Utrecht, remembers Kes and Jayden and Isa and his other friends from school, his heart sinks a little bit.

They don’t know about this, about this new Lucas. They don’t know about the nail polish, the butterfly clips, about the eyeliner or the sheer fabric. When they think about him (though he’s beginning to doubt that they even do), they probably think about hoodies, skateboards, short hair, about him kissing girls at school.

They don’t know him.

Lucas sighs, falling onto his back on his bed. He tucks a hand under his head, refraining from chipping the polish on his nails, tanging his fingers in his hair.

He thinks maybe there’s a chance he won’t have to worry about it, about them not knowing him. He barely talks to them, save for a meme every once in a while from Isa. He hasn’t talked to Jayden since their last video call, since he told Lucas he seemed weird. Kes has sent him a “Hey” text but the conversation dwindled until it was gone in just a few minutes.

A part of him mourns it. A part of him grieves.

It feels like he’s losing a part of him, a part of his life. His childhood, the parts of his life that were there when he became human. (Although that still feels like it’s happening. Maybe being human takes time. Practice.)

He did manage to talk to them yesterday, Jayden and Kes, and they’d all managed to schedule a time to meet online. He’s been nervous, the same kind of nervous he felt when he had to break up with a girl from school. “It’s just not going to work with us,” he’d told her, feeling bad even though he knew there was nothing he could do to make it work. Somehow it feels the same right now. There’s the same pit in his stomach, the same lump in his throat.

He doesn’t know what he’s going to say to them.

He has no plans.

He covers his face with his other arm, his elbow covering his eyes, blocking out the light coming in through the window. It’s golden light, the afternoon just coming to an end, and usually, he’d be up at his window, watching the sun go down. But now his throat feels stuck, his stomach knotted.

---

It’s a while before they call.

His phone buzzes first, on the bed next to him, and he uncovers his face, forcing himself to get up in a bleary stupor, ignoring the way his heart rate picks up, ignoring the tremor of his hands as he sets his laptop down on his bed and sits criss-cross in front of it, ignoring the way he suddenly feels spacey, unfocused in his own mind.

Before he realises, both their faces are on the screen in front of him. He’s vaguely aware that his room might be too dim for them to see him clearly, but he doesn’t mind. Maybe this way they won’t be able to see the pink powder set across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

“Hi.”

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Hey, man.”

Maybe it’s just Lucas’s anxiety, but it sounds like they know. Like they know what he’s about to tell them, what he’s feeling, dreading.

“I, uhm…” He swallows down his nausea, looking at them both, Kes to Jayden, Kes to Jayden, left to right, right to left, left to right, right to left. “There’s something I wanna tell you.”

“Okay,” Kes says, nodding, prompting.

Lucas takes a deep breath, pulling the sleeves of his sweater down over his hands, fidgeting.

“So I…” There aren’t any specific thoughts in his mind right now, nothing telling him what to say, how to say it, where to look, what to do. “I don’t really know how to say this.”

“Just say it,” Kes says, his face looking concerned. Jayden is quiet.

“I’m gay,” Lucas says, and then he can’t stop.

“And I know it might be weird or… yeah. It’s just, I’m out over here, in Antwerp, and I felt like I was lying to you because I’m different here than I was in Utrecht, but I didn’t want anything to change, but it feels like stuff was already changing, and I figured I couldn’t do anything about it so I thought… might as well.”

He looks up at them, pulling his eyes away from his quickly moving hands, where he hadn’t realised he was looking, and they both just look… blank.

“I mean we haven’t been talking much at all,” he continues, unable to help himself, his voice rapid, “and I thought maybe it was just the distance and it was weird at first but then it just turned into me thinking that you guys just didn’t like me and you were, like, waiting for me to leave, but it just got confusing.”

He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, feeling it desperate to get out even though, in a way, it’s just escaped.

They continue to stare. He thinks for a second that they’re frozen, that the connection is bad, but the fan behind Jayden continues to spin, Kes’s eyes continue to blink.

“I know we’re… drifting apart,” he says after a few painful seconds. “I’m not trying to fight it, I just… I just want you guys to know me. And it’s okay if we don’t talk anymore, like it’s not… I know how it is. I’m still…” He shrugs. “Grateful. I love you guys. And I always will, I’ll always be here for you, I’ll always have your back. But it’s okay.”

“Luc,” Kes says suddenly. “We don’t care that you’re gay. I mean, we care, obviously, but it’s not like it’s all we care about. It just feels like you’re so different.” He leans forward, looking away from the camera, from the screen, moving his hands as he talks.

“It feels like we don’t know you,” Jayden adds.

“Maybe you don’t.” He shrugs. “I mean, if I’m honest, it wasn’t like I was really me in Utrecht.”

Silence.

“What are you talking about?” Jayden asks in a small voice.

“I just…” Lucas shifts, pushing himself up before setting himself down again, uncrossing his legs before recrossing them, the left over the right, his shoulders tense, uncomfortable. “I’m gay,” he says, unsure of how to continue, how to explain himself.

“You said,” Kes interjects. “That’s fine.”

Lucas smiles softly before continuing.

“I’m gay, but I’m like, gay gay. Like you guys remember me with like, hoodies and—and stuff,” he stammers, averting his gaze and looking around the room. His hands fumble on his sleeves, tugging and rubbing the fabric as he tries to not let the walls close around him. “But I’m a fucking stereotype. I’m gay, and I like sparkles, and makeup, and sometimes I like to wear skirts. And I’ve always been like this, but I was so fucking embarrassed about it that I never, like… Did anything about it.”

His voice cracks at embarrassed. He doesn’t remember ever saying it before. He glances at the screen before looking away, feeling like they’re both sitting in front of him, in person, real. His eyes sting, and he swallows, choking slightly.

“But when I got here, there was no one I knew, and I didn’t feel like I had to be scared of being me. I didn’t feel like I had to worry about confusing anyone or making anyone uncomfortable, and I could just… exist like I wanted.”

“Luc,” Kes says at the same time that Jayden opens his mouth. “You don’t have to worry about that anymore.” His voice is soft, and when Lucas looks at him, his eyes look glassy on Lucas’s computer screen.

“Lucas, we love you,” Jayden says, and Lucas lets himself go.

He covers his face with his hands as his eyes squeeze shut, tears rolling down his cheeks, his heart pounding. The walls fall away. After forcing his face to relax, he takes a deep, shuddering, stuttering breath and drops his hands, looking to the screen.

Kens is wiping under his eye, smiling.

Jayden has his face in his hands, looking back at Lucas, who laughs lightly, not knowing what to do.

“Sorry,” he gasps, looking away as he wipes another tear from his cheek, rubbing the side of his covered hand across his face.

There’s a moment as they all collect themselves, wiping their faces, taking deep breaths, and it’s broken by Kes.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, looking at Lucas earnestly.

“For what?”

“For…” Kes pauses, his eyes squeezing shut, a hand covering part of his face. He takes a sharp breath before continuing. “Making you feel like you had to hide.” His voice is thin.

“Kes,” Lucas starts, leaning closer, shaking his head. “It wasn’t you, it was just…” He waves his hand vaguely. “Everything.”

“I hate everything,” Jayden says, and Lucas laughs.

“Everything’s getting better.”

They nod, and Lucas smiles weakly, wiping his face once again. His shoulders release, exhausted, and he rubs his face, suddenly drained. He takes a deep, heavy breath.

“Dude?” Jayden’s voice says, breaking for just a split second through the iffy connection, and Lucas looks at him.

“Yeah?”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

Lucas scoffs, grinning as he covers his face, his fingers pressed to his forehead. He hears Kes let out a loud “O-o-o-hhh…” and laughs harder, looking to the screen in time to see Kes pushing himself up and then laying down on his stomach after pushing his laptop away from himself, resting his chin in his hands. Lucas looks away, feeling his face burn.

It’s back.

Everything he’d missed with them, every time he wished he could talk to them, tell them something. Every time he’d wanted to text them, call them, hear them. Every opportunity he’d skipped, every chance he hadn’t taken. Here it is.

“Tell us!” Jayden exclaims, interrupting Lucas’s thoughts and soft smile.

“He, uhm…”

“What’s his name?” Kes prompts.

Lucas pauses, looking away, still smiling, biting his lower lip.

“Jens.”

“Jens…” Jayden repeats. “Tell us about him.”

“He, uhm…” Lucas says again, laughing at himself. “He’s great.”

Jayden waves his hand, trying trying to prompt him, but when it shows to be unsuccessful, he says “In what way?”

“Oh, Jesus…” Lucas falls onto his back, looking up to the ceiling. He hears them both laugh. Maybe he was also missing something like this; being able to talk about Jens freely, as his boyfriend, not having to worry about skipping over anything that would make him seem like anything more than a crush. “He’s just amazing,” he says, sitting back up and looking at them. They’re both grinning, and Lucas can almost see the familiar gleam in Kes’s eyes through the screen, the gleam he used to be so captivated by.

Jayden waves his hand again.

“He’s…” Lucas sighs. “Nice, and kind, and considerate… He’s so gentle.”

They both smile, not saying anything.

“He’s so funny,” Lucas continues. “He has a dumbass sense of humour, I think you guys would get along with him.” He ignores the simultaneous “Hey!”s, and suppresses a smile. “He can always make me smile, it’s incredible.”

“Are you in love with him?” Kes asks.

Lucas is quiet for a second, his eyes unfocused, a mindless smile lingering on his face.

“I think so.”

Jayden lets out a soft squeal and Lucas laughs out loud.

“You think so?” Kes says, ignoring it. “You don’t know?”

“I think I am. We haven’t…” Lucas sighs, leaning back on his hands. “We haven’t said it.”

“Why? How long have you been together?” Jayden asks.

“A while. We met a little after I got here.”

“You don’t have an exact date?”

“Not really. We were like… flirty and stuff from the start. And I kissed him and then we didn’t really say anything about it. But it was still there, like the thing between us. You know?”

“So why haven’t you said it?” Kes asks, his brow furrowed with curiosity. “If you’re sure?”

“I just don’t think I really have to, I guess.” He leans forward again, dropping his hands in his lap. “I mean, he knows how I feel about him, I know how he feels about me. It works.”

“That’s really cute,” Kes says softly, and Lucas gives him an exaggeratingly sweet smile, shrugging a shoulder up until it presses into his cheek.

“Are you guys alike?” Jayden asks.

“You mean are we both flamingly homosexual?” Lucas says with a laugh.

“I—Sure.”

“Uhh…” Lucas takes a deep breath, leaning and stretching his back before sitting the way he was before, his back hunched over. “He’s bi. And also, like, more masculine than me. Except…” He almost giggles, pressing the backs of his fingers to his cheek, trying to suppress his smile.

“What?” Kes’s voice says.

“He’s a ballet dancer, but other than that he’s more masculine than me.”

“Oh my god.”

“Da-a-amn, Lucas.”

He giggles for real this time, covering his face, his eyes scrunching up under his smile.

“Have you seen him dance?” Kes asks.

“I’ve seen him do just like little combinations but I haven’t seen him do a full dance. But he got the solo in his studio this year, and he wants me to go to the recital, so…”

“Ooooo. Exciting,” Jayden says, clapping his hands together lightly. “When is it?”

“In a few weeks. He only just found out recently and we went to celebrate at a cafe with some of his friends. And I’m going over to his later today.”

“Oop, you know what that means,” Kes says with his eyebrows raised and his head tilted, his eyes on his own computer screen averting and Lucas knows he’s looking at Jayden. Lucas rolls his eyes as Jayden wiggles his brows and his shoulders, letting out another “Ooooo…”

“I’m gonna hang up on you.”

“No, don’t!” Kes says, holding a hand out like he can stop him.

“How’d you meet?” Jayden asks after taking a second to stop laughing.

Lucas sighs before getting into it.

“So I like to just wander the city, right…”

---

A few minutes after they hang up, Lucas’s phone vibrates. It’s on his bed, and he’s setting a canvas against the wall on his desk, so he finishes first, making sure it’s set securely and won’t fall. As he’s slowly pulling his hands away from the painting (a messy abstract in oils), his hands open in front it, ready to catch it if it falls, he hears it vibrate again. He waits for a second, and the painting doesn’t fall, so he turns and lays on the bed, expecting a text from Jens.

But it’s from Jayden.

I’m sorry about what i said last time

Lucas pauses for a second before responding, forgetting what he’d said in the high of having finally talked to him and Kes, for real.

it’s okay

Jayden begins typing just a second after, and Lucas waits, his eyes focused on the screen.

no it’s not, i was mean

As Lucas begins typing, Jayden types again.

youve changed but its a good change

Lucas smiles softly.

i only really changed visibly, ive always been like this

youre right, ik you seem happier im happy for you im proud of you

Lucas almost laughs, imagining how Jayden cringing at himself sending these messages. But they seem heartfelt.

thanks, jayden

His smile softens as Jayden responds.

i love you, man and i support you and im here for you and i will NOT HESITATE to fight jens if he hurts you

im not expecting him to but thank you anyway i love you too

--- Lucas only gets nervous after he’s knocked.

A sudden burst of anxiety erupts in his chest, realising he doesn’t know whether Jens’s mom and sister have left yet. He does hope they have, of course, but as he waits, not hearing anything from behind the front door, he tries to think of what he’d say if one of them answered.

Lotte, he figures, would probably recognise him as the FaceTime guy. Whether she’d say hello, or say anything to imply that she knows him, he doesn’t know. Jens’s mother would probably as who he is, and, if he’s honest, would probably be taken aback by his appearance.

He’s wearing a pink sweatshirt, for starters, his favourite one, with little ruffles at the shoulders, and a hood, though it isn’t pulled over his head right now. His hair is kept out of his face with a silver hair clip (he decided not to use the pink one because it didn’t match the sweatshirt), and there’s purple eyeshadow brushed on the outer corners of his eyes. (“If you ever want to borrow some lipstick, let me know,” Zoë said, watching him as he focused, his tongue touching his lip, the small brush blending the purple into his skin.)

The corners of his eyes wrinkle as he smiles when it’s Jens who answers the door, after taking a quick sigh of relief.

“Come inside; you’re not cold?” Jens asks, tugging Lucas in by his sleeve. He presses a quick kiss to his mouth as he shuts the door behind him.

“This sweatshirt is really warm, actually.”

“Hm.”

Lucas wraps his arms around Jens’s neck, kissing him again, slower, smiling softly against his mouth. Jens pulls away, smiling as he looks at Lucas, his eyes going back and forth between Lucas’s. He brings his hands up and pushes a curl out of his face, gently taking down the barrette and clipping it again with the curl. When he drops his hands to Lucas’s shoulders, he’s quiet, his eyes soft.

“What?” Lucas whispers.

“You look pretty,” Jens says softly. His thumb brushes gently, so gently Lucas almost can’t feel it, under his eye, touching the purple. Lucas smiles, his face blooming pink, and lifts his chin, asking for a kiss.

“You have a good day?” he asks when they part, and Jens nods, pulling him down the hall to his room.

“I had a long day,” he says, “because I was waiting the whole time to see you.”

“Aw, baby…” Lucas pouts his lower lip out, batting his eyelashes until Jens snickers, pulling Lucas in by his waist. As their lips touch again, Lucas’s hands slip up to his head, his fingers tangling in his hair and tugging as Jens’s tongue slides between his lips.

He tastes sweet, and Lucas hums into his mouth, feeling Jens’s hand creep around his waist to the small of his back and then down his backside, sliding to the backs of his thighs and pulling. Lucas giggles, letting go of his hair and gripping the collar of his shirt as Jens picks him up, biting down on his lip gently, stepping across the room to his desk and setting him on it, tilting his head and sliding his hands down Lucas’s legs, leaving trails that are somehow simultaneously hot and cold in their wakes.

They pull away after a little bit, and Lucas’s heart swells upon seeing that Jens’s lips are red (and he assumes his own are too).

“Oh, guess what I did today?” he says softly, suddenly remembering what it was that he’d actually planned on telling Jens.

“Hm?” Jens’s eyes are half-closed, his hands firmly placed on Lucas’s hips, and Lucas sweeps his thumbs across his cheekbones.

“You remember my friends I told you about? Kes and Jayden?”

“Mm-hmm.”

He’d mentioned them to Jens, short anecdotes about Utrecht, stories about school and parties, also mentioning Isa and Liv. He’d told Jens about how he felt they were drifting apart, telling him about the call with Jayden and how he’d felt, how he was scared to lose them but felt it was inevitable.

“I called them this morning.”

Jens’s eyes open up a bit. His thumbs move in little circles over his hips.

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“And?”

Lucas tries unsuccessfully to suppress a smile, his fingers playing with the strings of Jens’s hoodie.

“I came out to them,” he says, feigning nonchalance.

He looks up when Jens remains silence, stifling a laugh when he sees Jens’s wide eyes and a smile just playing at his lips.

“Hm?”

Lucas covers his mouth with a hand, leaning in so his forehead presses to Jens’s and then pulls away when Jens’s hands press against his hips.

“You did what now?”

“I told them about you,” Lucas says, lifting his chin in mock pride, resting his hands on Jens’s shoulders. “And about how I’m super, super gay.”

“About me?” Jens says in sarcastic confusion, pointing to himself and raising his eyebrows. “You told them about me?”

“I told them all about you.”

“All about me?”

“Well,” Lucas says, looking away and cocking his head for a second as he placing his hands back in Jens’s hair. “Just what they need to know.”

“And that would be…”

Lucas sighs, kissing him briefly.

“Just that you make me happy. And you’re a dancer, which they think is fucking fantastic. Kes says when he visits he wants to see you dance.”

“Kes is visiting?”

“Eventually. No plans so far.”

“Mm.”

Lucas quirks his eyebrows at him.

“I’m proud of you,” Jens murmurs after a second, kissing his forehead softly.

Lucas beams, his cheeks pink, and he wraps his arms around Jens’s neck again, looking at his face.

It takes a few seconds, but it slowly falls, his smile dropping until he looks… sad.

“You don’t have to,” Lucas whispers, knowing.

Jens is quiet, sliding his hands up to Lucas’s waist, slipping under his hoodie and t-shirt, pressing against his skin. His hands are warm.

“It feels silly,” he says quietly. “Being scared to come out to them.”

“It’s not.”

“I know, I just…” Jens sighs, looking down. “I mean, Robbe’s gay, and Aaron and Moyo love him and Sander, I don’t know why it’s such a big deal.”

“It’s okay,” Lucas says, placing a hand on Jens’s jaw, pressing his thumb under Jens’s chin so he looks at him. “You don’t have to until you’re ready.”

Jens sighs again, lightly, scanning Lucas’s face, so Lucas leans in and kisses him.

“It’s not silly to be scared,” Lucas says before Jens can say anything. “It’s normal. Especially in a world like this.”

“I don’t wanna be scared,” Jens says, quietly, almost under his breath.

Lucas just touches his face, brushing his fingertips over his cheekbones and brows like he’s drawing him.

“But I don’t wanna be brave either,” Jens adds. “It’s stupid. That I have to be brave just existing.”

“It is,” Lucas agrees, He cocks his head at him, looking at the softness in his dark eyes. “You don’t have to be brave right now.”

“Okay,” Jens whispers.

Lucas pulls him in, wrapping his arms around his tightly, and Jens reciprocates, his arms around Lucas’s waist, his fingers against Lucas’s bare skin. Jens buries his face in Lucas’s neck as Lucas’s fingers end up in Jens’s hair, combing out the tangles gently, scratching his scalp. They both sigh, rocking back and forth slightly, so slightly neither of them really notices.

“My dancer,” Lucas breathes as Jens kisses his neck gently, and Jens’s arms tighten around him.

[patolozka]

On Crowley and Mary Magdalene META

 So I was thinking about the whole ‘Crowley could be Mary Magdalene’ concept and I decided to put a few things together. I don’t want to persuade anyone of anything I was just thinking.

This META was written for @a-zira-fell and @azirafuck because they were feeding me with this stuff the last week.

 So here is it:

1. Before the GO show aired in May we knew that Crowley wore female clothes at Golgotha from the stills that were shown to us in April. (It was THIS meta by @intersexaziraphale that I read about it). But after the show I think we promptly forget everything about it because there were so many things to think about.

https://intersexaziraphale.tumblr.com/post/184424971273/so-i-realized-that-not-everyone-knows-what-i-do

2. In the show in the crucifixion scene there is this exchange between our duo:

C:           Come to smirk at the poor bugger, have you?

A:           Smirk? Me?

C:           Well, your lot put him on there.

A:           I'm not consulted on policy decisions, Crawley.

C:           Oh, I've changed it.

A:           Changed what?

C:           My name. "Crawl-y" just wasn't really doing it for me. It's a bit too... squirming-at-your-feet-ish.

A:           Well, you were a snake. So, what is it now? Mephistopheles? Asmodeus?

C:           Crowley.

A:           Hmm.

A:           Did you, uh... ever meet him?

C:           Yes. Seemed a very bright young man. I showed him all the kingdoms of the world.

A:           Why?

C:           He's a carpenter from Galilee. His travel opportunities are limited.

C:           That has got to hurt. What was it he said that got everyone so upset?

A:           "Be kind to each other."

C:           Oh, yeah. That'll do it.

 In the script there is no bigger change in the exchange and about Crowley there is not much more than that he is wearing black. But we saw how he looked like in the show.

 3. Then there is this Neil Gaiman’s tweet

Source: https://vintagefloof.tumblr.com/post/186199778332/confirmation-from-mr-gaiman-on-twitter-today-that

 4. And also this meta by @olliaaron about Crowley’s and Aziraphale’s clothing during crucifixion:

https://olliaaron.tumblr.com/post/186239033859/so-i-read-something-about-this-and-heres-an

 5. What do we know about Mary Magdalene

·         She may have been Jesus’s wife, but we don’t know for sure. {ENG Wiki Mary Magdalene}

·         She is for the first time noticed as one of the women who “ministered to Christ of their substance.” (Luke 8:3) {ENG Wiki Mary Magdalene}

·         She travelled with Jesus as one of his followers and was a witness to his crucifixion, burial, and resurrection. (According to the four canonical gospels) {ENG Wiki Mary Magdalene}

·         Mary as one of the women who travelled with Jesus and helped support his ministry "out of their resources", indicating that she was probably relatively wealthy. (Luke 8:2–3) {ENG Wiki Mary Magdalene}

·         There is a statement seven demons had been driven out of her (Luke 8:2–3) and that prompted her to became Jesus‘ follower. {ENG Wiki Mary Magdalene}

·         She was one of women who found the sepulchre of Jesus empty (with Salome and Mary the mother of James) and saw the “vision of angels”. (Matthew 28:5). {Eastons Bible Dictionary} The angel told them that Jesus had risen from the dead. Then the risen Jesus himself appeared to the women as they were leaving the tomb and told them to tell the other disciples that he would meet them in Galilee. (Matthew 28:1–10){ENG Wiki Mary Magdalene}

·         She hastens to tell Peter and John (John 20:1, 2), and again immediately returns to the sepulchre. There she lingers thoughtfully, weeping at the door of the tomb. {Eastons Bible Dictionary}

·         The risen Jesus appears to her but she at first mistook him for the gardener. After she heard him say her name, she recognized him and cried out "Rabbouni!" (which is Aramaic for "teacher"). She tried to touch him, but he told her, "Don't touch me, for I have not yet ascended to my father”. The Gospel of John therefore portrays Mary Magdalene as the first apostle, the apostle sent to the apostles. (John 20:1–10) {CZ Wiki}

·         According to Luke 24:1–12 a group of unnamed women went to the tomb and found the stone already rolled away, as in Mark. They went inside and saw two young men dressed in white who told them that Jesus had risen from the dead. Then they went and told the eleven remaining apostles, who dismissed their story as nonsense. {ENG Wiki Mary Magdalene}

·         After the resurrection she returned to Jerusalem. {Eastons Bible Dictionary}

·         In apocryphal texts, Mary Magdalene is portrayed as a visionary and leader of the early movement whom Jesus loved more than he loved the other disciples. {ENG Wiki Mary Magdalene}

·         The earliest dialogue between Jesus and Mary Magdalene is probably the Dialogue of the Savior, a badly damaged Gnostic text discovered in the Nag Hammadi library in 1945. In saying 53, the Dialogue even attributes to Mary three aphorisms that are attributed to Jesus in the New Testament: "The wickedness of each day [is sufficient]. Workers deserve their food. Disciples resemble their teachers." The narrator commends Mary stating "she spoke this utterance as a woman who understood everything." {ENG Wiki Mary Magdalene}

·         In Gospel of Thomas in saying 114: Simon Peter said to them: “Let Mary go forth from among us, for women are not worthy of the life”. Jesus said: “Behold, I shall lead her, that I may make her male, in order that she also may become a living spirit like you males. For every woman who makes herself male shall enter into the kingdom of heaven.“ {ENG Wiki Mary Magdalene}

·         In Gospel of Philip: And the companion of the saviour [was] Mary Magdalene. [Christ] loved Mary more than all the disciples, and used to kiss her often on the mouth. The rest of the disciples [were offended by it and expressed disapproval]. They said to him, "Why do you love her more than all of us?" The Saviour answered and said to them, "Why do I not love you like her? When a blind man and one who sees are both together in darkness, they are no different from one another. When the light comes, then he who sees will see the light, and he who is blind will remain in darkness."{ENG Wiki Mary Magdalene}

·         The Gospel of Mary: The Gospel of Mary was probably written over a century after the historical Mary Magdalene's death. The gospel does not claim to have been written by her and its author is, in fact, anonymous. Unlike in the Gospel of Thomas, where women can only be saved by becoming men, in the Gospel of Mary, they can be saved just as they are.

 Then there is this:

Source: https://azirafuck.tumblr.com/post/186236114966/so-i-was-already-on-board-with-the-whole-crowley

 6. How we can see Mary Magdalene in art

As you can see, majority of the paintings pictures Mary Magdalene with red hair and more so some of them even in dark colours.

Source of the pic: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mary_Magdalene

 7. Dan Brown

I’m a big fan of Dan Brown and of course I know his ‘Da Vinci Code’ is only a fiction but still…

According to Dan Brown, there was a woman in Jesus‘ life. According to him, Jesus was married to Mary Magdalene. And according to his book Leonardo da Vinci painted Mary Magdalene on ‘The Last Supper’, not John. And you know what hair colour does she have there? Red.

Source: https://cdn.getyourguide.com/img/tour_img-312981-148.jpg

 Some pieces from book Da Vinci Code about Mary Magdalene

"The marriage of Jesus and Mary Magdalene is part of the historical record... Moreover, Jesus as a married man makes infinitely more sense than our standard biblical view of Jesus as a bachelor... If Jesus were not married, at least one of the Bible’s gospels would have mentioned it and offered some explanation for His unnatural state of bachelorhood." (The Da Vinci Code, 245; cf. 244)

“Behold the greatest cover-up in human history... Not only was Jesus Christ married, but He was a father. My dear, Mary Magdalene was the Holy Vessel. She was the chalice that bore the royal bloodline of Jesus Christ” (Code, 249)

“Jesus was the original feminist. He intended for the future of His Church to be in the hands of Mary Magdalene.” (Code, 248)

“The Church, in order to defend itself against the Magdalene’s power, perpetuated her image as a whore and buried evidence of Christ’s marriage to her, thereby defusing any potential claims that Christ had a surviving bloodline and was a mortal prophet.” (Code, 254)

Source: https://www.westmont.edu/~fisk/articles/bruce_fisk_on_the_da_vinci_code.html (it’s a big article about why it all can’t be true, but it has its moments)

 And I add one of my favorites:

"Who is she?" Sophie asked.

"That, my dear," Teabing replied, "is Mary Magdalene."

Sophie turned. "The prostitute?"

Teabing drew a short breath, as if the word had injured him personally. "Magdalene was no such thing. That unfortunate misconception is the legacy of a smear campaign launched by the early Church. The Church needed to defame Mary Magdalene in order to cover up her dangerous secret—her role as the Holy Grail." (Da Vinci Code, 205)

 8. Gender in Good Omens

We know that angels don’t bother themselves with gender. But to me it looks quite like Crowley was manifesting himself the first four thousands more as a female than as a male.

In the garden of Eden, he is a demon, of course, but still you can see a slit in his clothes. I don’t think Aziraphale has some too. It could be only that his clothes are ragged but still…

In the Noah’s ark he looks more woman then man on the second glance. His long hair, his dress with belt…

At Golgotha it’s most prominent. There you can see he presents himself as a woman.

And after that, only 8 years later, the big change. The short hair, the glasses, all male.

And only other occasion in which we can see Crowley as a female is with Warlock as his nanny. But that is a different story.

 9. So let me summarize it.

v  Mary Magdalene was Jesus’ follower and travelled with him.

v  Crowley knew Jesus, he showed him the world.

v  Mary Magdalene was a witness to Jesus’ crucifixion, burial, and resurrection.

v  Crowley manifested himself as a woman during Jesus’ life and he was a witness to Jesus’ crucifixion.

v  Mary Magdalene was probably wealthy.

v  Crowley has no problem with money.

v  Mary Magdalene is often pictured as a woman with long, curly, red hair.

v  Crowley had for the first four thousand years long, curly, red hair.

v  After the crucifixion Mary Magdalene left and went to Jerusalem.

v  After the crucifixion Crowley left Palestine and went to Rome.

v  Out of Mary Magdalene had been driven seven demons.

v  Crowley is a demon.

v  Mary Magdalene saw an angel (or two angels) that told her Jesus had risen from the dead.

v  Crowley has no problem with seeing angels.

v  Jesus said to Mary Magdalene after resurrection: "Don't touch me, for I have not yet ascended to my father”.

v  Crowley is demon, that could do it. ¨

v  In apocryphal texts, Mary Magdalene is portrayed as a visionary and leader of the early movement.

v  Crowley invented many things and was a leader of a sort on Earth.

v  Three Jesus’ aphorisms are attributed Mary Magdalene: "The wickedness of each day [is sufficient]. Workers deserve their food. Disciples resemble their teachers." She is also described as: "she spoke this utterance as a woman who understood everything."

v  Well, I don’t think like you but I think it’s a pretty good description of Crowley if you ask his co-workers.

v  Jesus said he may make Mary Magdalene male to become equal men.

v  Crowley changed after his death to male and also changed his name.

v  The Gospel of Mary was probably written over a century after the historical Mary Magdalene's death. The gospel does not claim to have been written by her and its author is anonymous.

v  Mary Magdalene’s gospel was found in Egypt covered in feathers.

 10. So I think Crowley could be Mary Magdalene. Crowley and Jesus could be together. Crowley could be the one painted all the time on all the Mary Magdalene’s pictures.

 The idea about Crowley being Mary Magdalene is not mine. It’s all tumblr.

[wo-wann-was-wer]

EPISODE 5:

I'm so sad Regina got buried in the woods

these fucking comparison shots are amazing

someone just tried to text me and I low-key flipped out because I was like you need to leave me the fuck alone

What if he just took her jacket and was like this is mine bitch

Katharina looks so dope with glasses

I'm so into her being the rock of this family by the way which I was never surprised by because women have the strength of 6 million men but

we've literally never seen Charlotte and her dad interact (like for reals)

That's one of the problems of this show is that some relationships fell by the wayside and I'm not a fan of that

did Charlotte drop herself off on the stoop

That's Tannhaus baby is somewhere because they never found the body of that infant so that infant is somebody.

yeah I literally can't imagine finding something like this out I'd lose my fucking mind

"who am I?" "I don't know" wow that's a fuck of a thing

Wow Claudia from the other universe That's fucking me up

Also what if Claudia from the other universe is the fucking bitch who has been fucking with us this whole time AKA the white devil

Also when are we going to see Noah again because I need to see Elisabeth and Noah together falling in love because I stan

worried about her Please tell us what happened to her I'm concerned

This actress has to be at least partially deaf and or hard of hearing because number one her ASL is fluent and she even emotes some words right? Idk

I do not trust this other Claudia as far as I could fucking throw her

This show is like the debate between Democrats and Republicans every fucking party is trying to convince everybody else that they are the ones that's trying to save the world and both of them behind closed doors are like all right how do we fuck the people in the asshole

I can't help wondering if this wouldn't have happened if we understood the half-lives of radioactive materials

so is all of this coming back to 1986 Is that the the origin time

And then do what What are you going to do with fucking 250 radioactive barrels The fuck you talking about

The scratches on the other side of her face and I don't know why it's on the other side of her face but it's on the other side of her face and it's concerning me

does that mean something's going to go different like

Jonas is out here like why did the adults lie to me

Oh my God after three seasons he's finally realizing not to listen to other people good boy

Oh Peter and Charlotte bonded over having fucked up families

Peter's mom is dead and he didn't know who his father was

Also babies

Also the way that he embodies Peter is fucking insane

I'm so into Charlotte with this curly hair

Oh my God who is this

Elisabeth run baby girl. too late. we've gone this long without sexual assault if they touch this child I'm going to lose my damn mind

Peter is going to kill this man

Elizabeth kill him Peter kill him if Peter dies is the hands of this dude I'm going to lose my fucking mind get back from my baby get back from my fucking cinnamon roll I'm going to kill you Elizabeth stab him the back stab him the back Elizabeth your daddy has a knife at his neck NOOOO PETER NOOOOOOOOOO NOOOOO FUCK

I literally will never forgive them for killing Peter why are the dopplers the most important and most tragic family

he never did anything to anybody

Katharina please kill your abusive mother She deserves it

everybody on this show is super into bludgeoning nobody likes shoots anybody else everybody fucking bludgeons everybody

No can I watch this abusive fucking bitch is going to hit you No Don't let her kill you Don't let her kill you

Is Katharina dead why are they taking my favorite people

she doesn't even get justice for how her mom treats her it's not fair. and now Ulrich is still stuck inside the asylum

oh thank God Noah is here because I was so worried about my baby

Wait what is going on. Oh Jonas has never died before This is exciting

oh wait there's only one Jonas damnit

EPISODE 6:

Even though it's not working for everyone I do really love the 1888 look on Jonas

I did not expect that Aleksander was going to tell Bartosz about his real identity

This shit is so uncomfortable.

Ulrich needs a real stop telling the women that he's fucking to stop coming to his household

It's like the penny traveled through time GASPPPPPPP

Jonas What the fuck did you come from

all my fucking pussy friends are bothering me from finishing this show YALL GOT STUPID PROBLEMS STAND UP FOR YOURSELF AND THEN THIS WONT HAPPEN

I'm going to say this every single time he's on screen but this beard is too good

I think that bartosz may be the most scorned member of this entire group he never gets any pussy and it's so sad

I'm super over this really creepy really ugly fucking dude I want him to leave I also kind of don't believe that he's the child of Martha and Jonas

Oh I absolutely love love love them holding hands and then going back to a shot of them holding hands as kids

why are they such a good couple I really like them but I also always have

I'm not super sure I understand why they had to leave bartosz behind

I don't trust a single of these fucking adults I'm just any of them including themselves when they become adults

This is like a suicide squad. This is the weirdest collection of people What is this team. What are they doing. since when are these people are working together. omg

Oh shit a child born of both worlds takes both worlds energies to destroy it. But that's what causes the apocalypse

Well this is super fucked up

everything that's happening in this final montage sequence is bad news

all of it

why do I Stan Noah and Elisabeth so much

omg Hannah is giving birth is NOW the time

wow this is a lot

EPISODE 7:

our perspective is what makes definitive reality

I'm confused about the gravestone that says Charlotte on it

Also yes give me more Elizabeth and Noah please please please

This is absolutely crazier than any shit doc Brown ever did But he was also trying to build a time machine in the 1890s so that's fun

Oh is this how he gets all the fucking scars

My goodness what is happening What is going to happen I'm getting stressed.

There's only two episodes left I feel like they're not answering my questions I'm worried

What happened to wöller

What is silja doing here

This is bullshit she's like drawing him in

Oh that's a surprise so silja is a tiedemann

why is it always like I feel like I know what's happening and then around episode 6 or 7 I just completely lose the plot

oh wow Jonas almost straight up died but Noah saved him

‘you can't die’ points a gun at him

Oh my God you can't kill yourself because you've already grown

oop well after that birth happened I had to take about 5 minutes to pause my brain and factor that in

yo I knew Tannhaus was going to figure in fucking more than he did

Is he the one who builds the cage

does this seem like a good idea or does this seem like a bad idea

shooting yourself What do you think that feels like

everybody's on a different team there are too many teams It went from like a presidential race to a March madness bracket There's so many fucking people involved everybody's got their own goddamn plan

folks I just want to emphasize here that we have an episode and a half to tie all this up

Oh shit universe A Claudia infiltrated universe B Claudia

I love what they did with the place after the fire It looks really nice It's a different vibe but it's good

so Eve made the plans for the machine

Wait what She died. 

I can't believe that Elizabeth and Charlotte have to be the ones to drop off Charlotte as an orphan

Oh noooooooooooo Jonas didn't do it!!!!

Oh my God don't make me feel sympathy for Hannah

he looks so fucked up 

bye hannah we won't miss you

but also hate leaving a child without their parents

Tell us what's on the last page and tell us what happened to woller's eye

All right now we're seeing how everybody got to where they were like the first fucking time

I love this walk down memory lane it's literally just the stylized recap of the show right before the final episode which is 10/10

watch your face girl

too late

Omg what does this mean 

THE FINALE:

This show is just Claudia Tiedemann Lurking: the TV show

Also the bullshit that he had to live through all of this in order to get to the end makes me really sad

yeah wait who's the fucking father of Regina

been way too sucked in

also. WE LOVE TO SEE A TIME TRAVEL TACKLE

WAS THIS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL DAY IN STUTTGART

How many times are going to burn this place down

how many versions of this fucking machine do they have they're always like oh God we don't have a way here or there FUCKING LIARS

I can't believe that the thesis of this show is teenage hormones cause the apocalypse

Adam and Eve are such fucking children it's so stupid. 

reunion nnnnnnnnnnn

Oh shit he fucked up your plan huh

No I don't want it to end

I wish everybody didn't cry so much everybody so sad all the time

yup what in the actual fuck is happening

yo this is fucking wild

these baby Martha and Jonas are so cute

Not sure where we're going with this folks what's happening here wrap it up shit

I'm really obsessed with this golden snitch

It's just making me so sad

oh they're becoming stardust together

this is a weird cover but I'll take it

everything is going back to normal

but without Jonas and Martha and Claudia

if they don't tell us what happened to his eye I'm gonna flip out

I CAME HERE TO FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENED TO WOLLER’S EYE WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

Also what does this ending line mean its stressing me out

Well thats it. Three years of my life. Damn

[save-the-spiral]

fellow wiz/tma fan here: if your wizards were in the TMA universe, what fears do you think they would serve?

(link to entities page on The Magnus Archives Wiki, comprised ENTIRELY of spoilers.)

This is completely incomprehensible unless you listen to like an entire like three seasons of podcast. Luckily, I have, because I’m HYPERFIXATING bitches. 

This is my full list of current OCs (aside from wicked beau wright, who is SO undeveloped I dont even KNOW), not all are developed, feel free to ask about them. I have a google doc to keep track or I FORGET. if anyone wants me to do npcs hit me up, im already planning one for the eleven w101 schools and 5 p101 classes.

ALSO I TURNED AROUND AT ONE POINT AND THOUGHT THE LAMP BEHIND ME WAS AN EYE. SO IM DOING GREAT. (ALSO HAD TO TURN A LIGHT ON AFTER A BIT)

WIZARD101

Irisi- The End. Her fear of ghosts, the undead, and the inevitability of death ruled her for a time. She had to overcome it, venture deep into previously resting tombs, entangle with mummies, wraiths, banshees, and simple ghosts. She found a fondness in learning their stories, and she watches her aging adoptive father, Alhazred, and wonders when he will turn into something that simply stops, or if he will linger, and they will chat.

Mahamari Jade- The Buried. Her life magic is nurtured by the earth, and that was a quick fall into allowing herself to be buried alive, to choke on the mud and clay. She had a fear of being confined into one role, and broke free. But now the rock and dirt fuel her magic, the worms nurture it, and she finds a detached peace in returning to the earth from whence she came.

Emrys Pyre- The Lonely. He has self isolated ever since his first great trauma, believing if he had not been a fool, had not dragged his younger sister along, he could have prevailed on his own. It is his deepest failing, and the Forsaken has hooked him deeply in his belief that he alone can survive.

Quyen Jade (Serpentine King)- The Hunt. While others prefer a more active chase in the hunt, there is an aspect of waiting. Not all predators can spend their days racing after the next meal. Lions sleep for most of their day, after all. Snakes as well, feasting only when necessary. When Quyen finds the necessary moment, and strikes, he never hesitates, and the venom and blood call to him.

Morelle RavenHunter- The Hunt. When slighted by the Ravens of Grizzleheim, she began to hunt them down, to prove a point. It is how she gained that name, Raven Hunter. She gave that name to her wife and child, as well.

Morae RavenHunter- The Slaughter. She is not an active avatar, one touched but not guided. Her chronic pain, caused by a sudden attack fueled only by bigotry and ignorance, haunts her. That, as well as her own organs waging war, causing pain, lead to a fear of that pain, a fear of sudden attacks. 

Ianthe RavenHunter- The Corruption. His magic has always taken well to fungus, to mushrooms that feed on decay. At first her fascination with pretty, bio-luminescent mushrooms drew her in, but how quickly we fall once we get a taste.

Leo Nightside- The End. For all he loves animals, finds them good companions, he is a necromancer. His respect for death only extends as far as he is willing to bend the rules. 

Noah DreamTamer- The Stranger. He has redefined himself so often he forgets who he was, doesn’t want to know the person he was born as. He loses people. He doesn’t remember her voice, how tall she was. He has to become someone he is not to continue on, and not simply stop in place and never move again, not even to breathe.

Haley RainTamer- The Vast. Her fear of heights is unrivaled, ever since a bad broomstick accident where she broke her wrist at age 10 or so. One day the sky will claim her, and until then, she will look up, practicing the magic of the storms that she allows herself to believe rule it.

Fledge- The Desolation. They are so angry, stolen from their home. They are willing to inflict that pain on any who stand in their way, to take short cuts, to technically get the job done to ‘save the spiral’. They find a certain dark joy in how the professors and students of Ravenwood Academy despair when they hear of the fight taking place outside of their own world.

Ursae- The Vast. Not the sky, but the sea. She is a mermaid, of Celestia. Not many know of the deep trenches, the branching and convoluted caves under the sea, the endless darkness. She survives there, and stares back out of the endless depths.

Kestrel RainbowWeaver- The Eye. She sits idly by, content in her passive inaction. She was locked away in a time vault in Dragonspyre, and escaped. Her current events became history books and scrolls. So now, she smiles vacantly from her blacksmithing shop, and asks for idle gossip, and learns about Wizard City.

Elissa Silvertusk- The Web. Taken in, pulled by her own lack of initiative. Her life changed from where it was before, being pulled and puppeted by her mother’s vindictive whims, until now she lives in the web’s embrace, following orders, content to allow someone else to do the worrying, and let herself be dragged along.

PIRATE101

Darling Alexander Dove- The Flesh. He has no concept of the sanctity of sentient bodies. He holds no respect. Of course, he derives no entertainment when his victims are dead, unable to struggle, unable to dance alongside him in a macabre display of skills and how prettily a blade can cut into skin, fur, feathers, and then deep into the muscle, the bone, the flesh itself. It takes a long time to recognize what has gripped him. 

Darcy ‘Rusty’ Rhode- The Stranger. She becomes who you expect. She is docile, dumb, ditsy. She giggles at what you say even when it is not funny. Her eyes glint with excitement at the simplest of things, cooing over you. She is just another dumb broad, a woman who flips her long hair and drawls out things, bats her eyes. She becomes someone you do not know when she strikes, kicking you down and then again, pulling out a pistol and winking as if it is a joke you were both in on when she fires right between your eyes.

Zenobia Ire- The Vast. She lost her parents to the storm. She grew up having a connection to it, fearing it, but the way the thunder in those vicious Grizzleheim storms would thrum through her body like knuckles rapping against the tight skin of a drum, it calls to her.

Carlyle Nightngale- The Spiral. He lies, of course. Easily. He is a man of science, but nonetheless, no one can know in this Pirating side of the Spiral. So he tells tall tales of witchdoctors, the same thing every one of these ‘hoodoo practictioners’ claim, even if it’s all a ruse so they all can practice their own spirituality or science in peace. He never tells people what he is doing, simply smiling until they think they are in on what doesn’t exist.

Vitale Florus- The Lonely. He has been consumed by his on insecurities, but even before that, he was one of the few humans alone in a sea of automatons. All he was raised by was cold machinery. So he sits, alone, and tends to a secret garden he knows would be destroyed if he let anyone know. It is easier to not speak to anyone else.

[thecoyotescry]

BRING! IT! BACK!

I think of this look every second of every day I hope yall know that

[frankchurchillsaysrelax]

Michael gets injured and Alex worries and helps him

when all those shadows almost killed your light

“Liz? What’s wrong?” A phone call at 0300 hours is never a good thing, especially given the recent turn their lives have taken.

“Hi Alex.” Liz sounds more hesitant than urgent which is enough for his body to relax, seeking the sleep he had been lucky enough to find earlier.

“I still don’t know why Max told me to call you but, um, it’s Michael.”

Alex is instantly awake and sitting up, already reaching for his prosthetic. It’s been less than six hours since they had returned from Caulfield. Alex can’t bear the thought that something else may have happened to him after all of that.

“What’s going on, Liz? Where are you?” Alex keeps his voice calm and concise even as the fear coursing through him threatens to debilitate him. The Air Force didn’t train him in preparation for this exact moment, but it is definitely working to his advantage.

“We’re at Sanders’ Auto. Michael parks his trailer here.” Alex bristles at Liz acting like this is new information for him, but he can’t fault her for not knowing that Alex can find his way to Michael’s in his sleep. That’s how he had wanted it for so long after all. “Underneath you’ll find—”

“The bunker. Yeah, I know.” He doesn’t mean to snap at her but she is clearly avoiding his first question. “What happened?”

“He’s in a coma, Alex.”

The fear takes over, less of a wave and more like a wall he’s hit head on leaving him frozen halfway between his bedroom and the front door. Nova comes scurrying out behind him, pawing at his leg. Whether it’s to check on him or to shove him on his way toward Michael he doesn’t know but he is grateful for her.

Rational thought breaks through the expanding sense of panic inside his chest and his mind tries to form an picture of what could have happened. He needs facts but he doesn’t want them over the phone.

“I’m on my way.” He hangs up without listening to anything else Liz might have to say.

The drive into town takes no time at all, his mind too focused on getting to Michael to be aware of something as insignificant as time. The airstream is already moved out of the way and a piece of plywood covers the opening in the ground. He makes quick work of heaving it out of place and hurries down the ladder as fast as his leg will allow.

Liz is waiting for him at the bottom. She looks tired and there’s a bruise blooming on her forehead but she offers him a reassuring smile that he doesn’t trust. His eyes stray from her immediately searching for the reason he’s here.

Michael is laid across the table in the center of the room with no visible wounds but far too still for someone who bursts with life the way he does. Michael is never still, even when he’s sleeping. Isobel sits on a stool at his side, one hand holding his and the other resting on Max’s where it lays on her shoulder, the two of them guarding their brother and never taking their eyes off of him. He makes quick note of Isobel’s pale skin and how Max leans against her in a way that’s due more to injury than exhaustion. The three of them paint a tableau of fear and pain.

His attention diverts to Michael and he becomes his sole focus. He’s torn between the desperate need to rush to his side, to feel his pulse and the warmth of his skin, and the hope that if he doesn’t get any closer it might all be an illusion. Need wins out but his approach is slow with trepidation.

Alex had always loved to watch Michael sleep in the rare moments he’s had the chance, before his own cowardice inevitably pulls him away. Warm and sated beside him, he always looked so young and unguarded. He looked happy and Alex always hoped it was at least partly because of him, and if not, he hoped that he was at least getting some of the quiet that he forever sought while awake.

But this isn’t sleep, this is unconscious, and sneaking out of bed in the early morning hours won’t be enough to wake him.

“What happened?” His voice is soft but raw, a far cry from the composed soldier he tried to project on the phone. Standing there in a secret alien bunker he feels like the seventeen year old kid only Michael can summon these days, and with that youth comes dread and doubt.

“Noah.” Isobel’s voice is full fury but her eyes stay gently resting on Michael’s face.

“Where is he?” Alex feels a sudden need to shield Michael’s body, as if Noah could materialize at any moment.

“Dead.” Unlike Isobel, Max lets his rage consume him, eyes darkening and the hand not touching Isobel coiling into a fist. Alex doesn’t need to ask who is responsible for that.

When neither of them offer any more information on Michael’s condition, Alex feels like he’s about to explode. Luckily, Liz can sense his growing tension and steps in to explain in that cool and methodical way of hers everything that Alex needs to know.

“We think Noah’s consciousness is holding on, trying to find a vessel. Isobel entered Michael’s mind and she could sense Noah in there but he’s getting weaker. Kyle stopped by and he says nothing is physically wrong with him so once Noah has faded, Michael should wake up.”

“Should, right.” Alex ignores Liz’s uncertainty, because he is going to wake up, he has to.

Instead he fans the sparks of petty annoyance that Kyle was called before him. He’s glad that they got Michael checked out and grateful that he is alright, but still he wishes he had been called sooner. A tiny, cruel voice in his head whispers that if he was more honest with his friends they would know to contact him with anything regarding Michael. He’s lucky Max knew, although he has no idea why Michael would choose to confide in him.

Alex steps closer, burying his fingers through sweat matted curls, his thumb brushing back and forth against his temple where he can feel the steady rhythm of Michael’s pulse. He stares intently at his face, willing him to wake up and say something inappropriate but still frustratingly charming.

“Isobel, do you think you can try again?”

“Liz, no.” Max’s tone is sharp in a way Alex has never heard him use with Liz. He doesn’t dare look away from Michael though.

“It’s okay Max, I’ll be fine.” The stool scrapes across the floor as Isobel moves in closer. “Michael’s head is a bit of a mess,” she explains, and Alex thinks it’s directed towards him although still doesn’t look up.

“Noisy.” Alex remembers that first night in the tool shed. The weird boy who talks about entropy and plays the guitar so beautifully that his inner peace exudes from him and touches everyone lucky enough to be close to him.

“Yeah. It’s hard for me to stay in there too long.” Isobel’s tone is skeptical but whatever questions she may have, she keeps to herself for now.

The room falls silent, only the low whirring of fans invading the space, while Isobel does whatever it is she does. After several minutes of waiting, Alex hears her sharp gasp from over his shoulder followed by the sounds of sloshing liquid and desperate gulps. He watches Michael’s face for any sign of change but his features remain perfectly still.

“Noah is gone. I couldn’t find him anywhere.” A few panting breaths filled the air as they all looked to Michael. “It was quieter in there this time. I think he could sense you were here.” He can feel both Liz and Isobel’s eyes on him but he resists the urge to glare back.

“Why isn’t he waking up?” Alex has never been more grateful for Max Evans.

“Are you guys sure it’s psychic and not physical.” His fingers tighten in Michael’s hair as thoughts of TBIs and alien caused brain tumors flood his mind. “Should we get his head scanned?”

“No hospitals,” the Evans’ say in creepy twin unison.

“Did you see anything else? Could you find Michael?” Liz steps closer to the table now. She lays a hand lightly on Michael’s arm and squeezes before drawing back.

“He wouldn’t talk to me.” A thin layer of frustration coats the worry in Isobel’s voice but Alex can hear it as clearly as he feels it. “I don’t think he could hear me. And there was this blonde woman with him but I have no idea who the hell she is.”

An icy stab of pain pierces Alex straight through his heart and melts leaving nothing but cold weighing heavy inside of him. Michael had whispered every detail of what he’d seen on the drive home, over and over, committing to memory something Alex knew was already permanently a part of him.

He ignores the chatter around him as the others wonder who the mysterious blonde could be. Of course Michael wouldn’t tell them. Of course he would shield them from the horrors the world has forced on him once again.

Alex raises his other hand to rest against Michael’s chest feeling the slow and even breaths he takes. He leans down and rests his lips against the damp skin of Michael’s forehead in a way that can’t really be called a kiss. The bunker goes quiet again and he knows he will only be stirring up more questions for Michael but his mouth is already forming the words before he can overthink what he’s about to say.

“You need to wake up, Guerin. She’ll always be with you. That memory she gave you is a gift that nobody can take away from you. But she wanted you to live, Guerin, so you need to come back.” With a little more pressure he leaves a searing kiss before nudging his nose against his hairline. “Come back to me, Michael.”

In a movie this would be the moment where Michael’s eyes flutter open and instantly meet Alex’s with a loving gaze. In reality it takes a few breathless minutes before a low groan follows an arm flying up to clutch at an aching head, eyes shut tight in obvious pain.

Isobel, Max, and Liz crowd closer, all of them talking at once. Alex firmly tells them to back the fuck off. It’s then that Michael’s eyes open, blinking against the overhead light but finding Alex anyway.

[penaltybox14]

For @dying-redshirt-noises cupped-face prompt. 

When Bob was a kid, a real kid, just a little kid with a brush haircut and milk-tooth molars, his mom would open up the windows on summer nights just to let their apartment breathe, and he could hear the sirens down below.  He could lie in bed and try to guess each one as it went by: police, or fire, or ambulance.  Wasn't any paramedics, in those days, and the man behind the ambulance wheel might just as soon be the undertaker, and himself he might not know which til he got on scene.

When Bob was a kid, when he was Bobby, when he was Frank's kid brother, when he was Ed and Louise's son, two boys from his block went swimming in the Des Plaines river, under the hot, fat, shimmering August sun, but only one boy came back out again.  Bob (Bobby) walked into a funeral parlor in his Sunday best, starch and a clip-on necktie and hair his mother fussed to flatten, and saw a dead boy lying still and ordinary, as if lulled by the soft weeping of grown-ups and the grinding wheeze of an industrial fan in the corner.  Bobby walked up to the dead boy trying to work out what that meant: dead.  There was something pale about the boy that he had only vaguely known, something missing, something too sweet and fine-spun about his stillness.  

A woman, who might have been the boy's mother (it was a room of bodies: of shuddering bodies in black suits and sunday dresses, veils and whispers, grown-up bodies swaying and heaving like the cars of a freight train), bent and stroked the hair, the cheek, the hands.  A woman looked down at him with shining eyes.  Bob (Bobby, his cock's comb hair straying from its pommade bonds) touched the hand of the boy who wasn't, anymore, because his skin was cold, cold like a door in the morning, before the sun come out and woke up the streets and the buses and the world.  Colder than the gentle face of the moon, colder than the comforting stars.

Wasn't any paramedics, back then, and Bob wonders sometimes if there had been, would there still be two boys and not one, would there be two boys grown to young men.  Two boys gone to work, two boys gone to Vietnam, two boys come home and starting families.  Two boys went swimming and one came back, and one had a painted cheek that felt like the bottom of a river.

Summer in Chicago was a season of sirens: police and fire and ambulance, and in the later afternoons when the storms rolled in you'd hear the tornado warnings go off, howling like something trapped and wounded, like something raging to get out.

It doesn't storm like that, in Los Angeles.  Back home you'd go days of heat, days of swelter, the mercury all but busting out of the thermometer on the drugstore window.  Drink Coca-Cola, said the fading metal, with the similing lady on it, and boy you did, boy you drank it half-solid with ice.  The heat would rise from the day to the night, from the pavement to the bricks to the El, all the way to the sky until at last God deemed it right to break, and the lightning split the world to pieces and the thunder might've cracked the foundations of the earth and rain came spilling out of the sky like Noah was building an ark on the shores of Lake Michigan.  But the heat, here, is brittle and fierce, and holds you in its teeth.

When the rain comes, if it comes at all, it sneaks up on you, and all of a sudden the power's out and the cracked-concrete culvert they call a river here is a raging torrent, rolling fury down to the port, to the ocean, rolling fury like it wants to tear everything down, like a bad trip, like a schizophrenic throwing himself against the walls of a cramped house in a neighborhood of cramped houses and cramped alleys and bad, boiling summer madness.

They're in the throes of the heat, they're at the mercy of the mercury, and Bob's gone through two uniform shirts and Craig's gone through four, and Bob's thinking about asking dispatch to post them up at a landromat for a couple of hours cause he's running out of shirts before he's gonna run out of sweat to soak them in.  They drink water like horses and no one at Station wants to cook, and Cap says the hell with it, popsicles for dinner, and Leroy says Cap they're gonna melt before we get to eat them and Cap says the hell with it, just throw them in a bowl and call it soup.  Craig says, from the couch where he has wilted, ever so slightly, gaz-popsicle, and chuckles.  Gaz-popsicle, like gazpacho, get it?

Parker says Brice made a joke, Cap, I'm gonna shove my whole head in the freezer and don't take me out til January.

Bob laughs, and laughs, and Craig smiles, and the tones go off for a structure fire, as if the whole of the basin isn't hot enough already, just gotta add a few more degrees.

Fire's like death, he thinks, while Craig drives.  It ain't scary, or not.  It's just there, like sky or sand, like birth or sleep.  You're meant to be at least little scared of it, like all the things that'll kill you out in the wide world, but it's no sense to lose sleep over it.  No sense but to be prepared, as Craig is always reminding him, in his sweetly bothersome way, you're a fireman, Bob, how can you forget to change your smoke-alarm batteries?

The structure fire's a house, or it was a house, but it isn't going to be one soon - it's a Craftsman, Bob thinks, and in his mind he sees the layout, in his mind he sees the timbers and the frame, he sees the insulation packed in the walls.  He sees hollow-core doors and shag carpeting.  He sees these things as he hitches up his SCBA.  He sees Craig doing the same, and pats him on the shoulder and Craig pats him back and no one questions it, even if they see it they haven't questioned it for months now.

The sun is a murky eye in the west and the heat of the sky and the cement pushes them toward the house as the house breathes out smoke.  There is no heat like fire: it's like being inside a body, like being inside a fever.  Twenty minutes in and out: it's all you can stand.  Twenty minutes, that's a whole mile walking, twenty minutes, that's nothing, that's an intermission at the drive-in, that's popcorn, that's a thousand years in black smoke.

Twenty minutes.  Craig triple-checks his SCBA every morning every shift, and Bob does the same because why not, because he's close to Craig that way, he does it because Craig does it and once upon a time he just did it to make peace with his partner but he does it now because that peace is like water, that peace is like smoke-detector batteries and bullhead catfish on a barbecue grill.

When Bob comes out of the fire stumbling, slapping hands like a relay to send the next crew in - and 51 is there, and 8s, and 10s, a small army - he falls to his knees on the grass and breathes its sweet summer-cracked smell.  Someone is wrangling the ambulance attendants to bring out paper cups and water and coolers full of ice and he'd shove his head right in but he thinks: what would Craig thing, me shoving my sweaty, sooty face in everyone else's water?

What would Craig think?

He looks around and squints and doesn't see his partner.  He shoves a man from 10s.  You seen my partner, he says?  You see Brice?  The grimed face is blank.  He walks among the kneeling rows: you seen my partner?  You seen Craig?  Roy DeSoto is crouched on the sidewalk, his ginger hair streaked in grime.  You seen Brice, Roy?

Roy has always had that softly concerned face, an expression that seems at first too gentle for a fireman.  He shakes his head.  No, he says.  No, he's not with you?

Now his heart is thumping.  Now his heart is jumping.  Now his muscles hurt, and the gauge on his SCBA is in the red, and twenty minutes is much too long.  There's an army of firemen in the same beige and blackened coats, the same black helmets, breathing the same thick air.  

Cap, he says, Cap, you seen -

There's a hand on his shoulder and a glimpse in his eye, and Craig is missing his glasses somewhere, what a stupid thing to think at first, Craig stares nearsighted at him and pats his arm again.  Bob, he says.  I've been looking for you.

His heart beats in his chest so loud his ribs feel like the rafters of a church.  Oh god, he thinks, oh god.  Craig's live and living and confused face.  His myopic gaze he swipes with one gloved hand.  

"Aw, jeez, kid, don't do that - "

You forget yourself sometimes.  Act like a probie, act like a person.

So he bites his glove off instead, and swipes the grime from under Craig's eye, and smudges it further.  He wants to say: jesus, kid, don't scare me like that.  

But Craig puts a hand flat against his chest, so instead he lets his hand, of flesh and blood and fever, linger longer than it ought.