#sorry noah this is going on main L

[rainc0at]

so my mum deals with my breakups by making me a huge cup of hot chocolate 💘💘

[maccreadysbaby]

Project: Killcode

batfamily + oc insert

tw: none

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

don’t ask me how i put this out so fast just marvel… jk

also BENTLEY’S FIRST MOMENT™︎ WITH A GIRL

part twenty-nine

❝ SPITE ❞

SATURDAY — JULY 28 — 8:07PM

BENTLEY WENT BACK TO THE MAIN GYMNASIUM, WORKING HIS WAY BACK THROUGH THE CROWD TO ASTEN AND LAYLA.

“What was that about? You just took off,” Asten asked as soon as Bentley returned, scanning him questioningly with his green eyes. Bentley glanced at him, then at Layla, who was looking at him just as curious, then at Vera, who was still onstage, and, finally, back through the doorway where Chloe had been. Crying. Because of him.

“I saw someone I needed to talk to,” He replied, glancing back at Asten, at his sort of fixed blue hair. “But I didn’t catch them in time.”

Bentley looked back at the stage and watched Vera and her band move around on it. He felt Asten’s eyes lingering on him for a while, but eventually, he looked away, too.

Vera was onstage for probably half an hour, and the whole time Bentley was really focused on not having shiny eyes. (It was kinda hard because you can’t feel shiny eyes… so maybe he just looked mad. He’d ask Asten later.)

But finally, she and her band left the stage, and, about two minutes later, she pushed through the crowd toward them.

“That was amazing!” Layla squealed, running up and engulfing her best friend in a bone-crushing hug. 

“Thanks, L,” Vera replied, hugging her back, locking eyes with Bentley over Layla’s shoulder. She smiled softly, the same kind of way she had on stage, and he smiled back.

(Were her eyes shiny, or was it just the lights?)

“I didn’t know you were in a band,” Was what he finally said. Vera wriggled her way out of Layla’s embrace and stepped up to him with a shrug. 

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Red,” She snickered, folding her arms in front of her. “But yeah — being a famous singer is, like, my dream. Mrs. Hastings helped me find people here to make a little band. We may not have a tour bus and sold out venues, but it’s fun to play here.”

Bentley hummed. “It’s really cool.”

“Thanks… but you’d take that back if you heard the band name,” She snorted. “The boys named it. After the Apocalypse.”

“That’s not bad. What about hootie and the blowfish? That’s a bad band name,”

“Hey! Don’t sleep on hootie!” She ordered with a laugh. “They were actually pretty good.”

“I didn’t say they weren't,” He snickered. “Who’s in your band?”

Vera glanced back up at the stage. “Most of them were friends with my brother, before he went missing. He used to tutor and hang out with the younger kids here at Redwood because he didn’t like anyone his age.”

Bentley said nothing to that, but glanced up at her. She’d heard her mention her brother before, but he didn’t know he was missing. Why was she acting so… casual about it?

“It’s fine, I mean, he went missing when I was, like, eight,” She shrugged. When Bentley scrunched his face up in confusion, she cringed. “Oops, I just read your mind. Sorry. Sometimes I hear it so naturally it sounds like you’re talking to me.” She sighed. “But yeah. They say he went missing, but I saw him leave in his car when he was sixteen. So he’s probably just out there doing what he wants. I don’t blame him — my parents were trash.”

Bentley hummed, glancing back at the stage. “What’s his name?”

“Noah,”

He, again, said nothing. He couldn’t imagine one of his siblings going missing… let alone for seven years. 

Seven years. Was Noah Levante even still alive?

“Of course he’s alive!” Vera suddenly blurted, and when Bentley looked over at her, she huffed. “Sorry, I did it again. But he’s alive. The police are still looking for him.”

“Okay,” He replied simply, glancing back at the stage.

A moment of quiet came and went.

“Anyways, you asked about my band,”

Vera went on naming the members of her band and telling Bentley about them, but the whole time, he could only think about Noah.

And the fact that when police couldn’t find someone for that long, they were usually… 

Dead.

—

When they made it back to the dorm, Bentley’s social battery was more dead than week-old roadkill. It was only nine-thirty, but it felt more like two in the morning. Everyone had had a pretty mediocre time at the dance. As Bentley had expected — besides Koa, though, who spent the whole thing with Summer and was happy about it. Bentley guessed it had been fine for him… besides seeing Georgia cheating and making Chloe cry. And talking about Vera’s dead missing brother.

Okay, so maybe the majority had been kinda un-fine.

Chloe really was pretty, but it didn’t seem to actually matter when she was trying to shove it down his throat like she did. If she would’ve been nice to Layla and stuff, they might’ve even been friends. But she made him feel so… weird. Uncomfortable. Gross. Summer and Layla and Vera and even Georgia were all pretty, but none of them acted like her. Why did she act like that? Like she had to prove to everyone that she was pretty?

Despite wanting to sleep desperately, he laid in his bed and thought about her. About why she felt the need to tell everyone how attractive she was. And then, going through all the potential answers he came up with (none of which ended up being good), he managed to make himself feel like a bucket of garbage for being mean to her.

But she was pretty mean, too, even if it wasn’t to him. She was mean to his friends. She was a jerk.

So why couldn’t he stop feeling so bad about what he’d said? It was even true — her dress was really too short. But…

It was nearing ten o’clock, and thirty minutes of laying there with his eyes closed, when he heard Asten climb off the top bunk and leave their bedroom. Then, a few minutes later, a few voices came and went, and the dorm door closed.

That’s about when Summer’s voice echoed in his head: The afterparty starts at ten at Mason’s house — fifteen plus. Don’t be late.

Asten was going again?

Did he not remember… last time he…

What?

Bentley promptly rose from his bed and glanced around their dark room, flipping the lamp in the corner on. He checked the top bunk and desks for Asten’s phone, but it was gone, and when he went out into the living area, it was empty. Rockie and Valor’s bedroom door was wide open to the world — empty, too.

Asten was going back? And he wasn’t going to tell him?

Bentley, with a huff, plopped on the couch and whipped his phone out of his pocket, tapping on Asten’s name — so much for not keeping secrets, right? No, he backspaced that. Where are you? Would it be petty of him to copy the exact string of texts that Asten had sent to him when he was gone? He backspaced that, too. Did you go to the party again? Was that too accusatory? 

He emptied out the text box and just stared at it. Why would Asten go back after what happened last time? He came back to the dorm sick and crying and he was going to go do it all a second time? 

Bentley stared at Asten’s messages for a good ten minutes before he finally huffed and swiped them away.

All that talk about secrets, and Asten still only left in the quiet after he thought Bentley was asleep. At least last time he’d woken him up to lie to him.

Bentley huffed and raked his hand through his hair.

Asten was just going to up and leave the dorm in the middle of the night and keep it secret?

Fine. If Asten was allowed to do it, then Bentley was, too.

He scrolled through his contacts until he found a familiar name, tapped on it, and held his phone up to his ear.

“Oh, look, the asshole’s calling,” Chided a high-pitched falsetto, laced with something thick that made Bentley’s guilt come back ten times worse. “What do you want? To humiliate me for the twentieth time?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, a strange mixture of feelings swirling around inside of him. He was tired, but he was also kinda pissed at Asten, and he also felt like the asshole of the century.

He exhaled. “Chloe, I… need to talk to you,” He glanced at the dorm door that Asten had so readily gone through without telling him. “In person.”

He heard her hum. “Really? Alright… What building are you in?”

He glanced over at Varian’s bedroom door, like he was about to come out and catch him in the act. “Aristotle.”

“Okay,” She replied. “Meet me under the willow trees — near the fountain between Columbus and Aristotle.”

Then she hung up. 

Bentley went back into his room, traded his pajamas out for some pants and a hoodie, then went to the door of the dorm and stared at it.

If Asten wasn’t going to tell him about the party until it was convenient… then he wasn’t going to tell him about sneaking out with Chloe in the middle of the night until it was convenient, either.

—

It was kind of cool outside when he made it to the fountain. 

It was quiet — the running water and rustling of trees were the only sounds he could hear. The moon and stars were all that were providing him with light, dimly illuminating the walkways so he could see where to step. He might’ve used his phone flashlight if he weren’t petrified of being caught by campus security. (Which Redwood claimed to have but… Bentley and his roommates snuck off and around campus, like, constantly with no issues? Had he ever even seen a security guard there?)

“Look who decided to show up. I half thought you were just trying to stand me up and make me feel like an idiot,” Came Chloe’s voice. He followed it to the darkness ahead of the fountain, where he could see the subtle silhouette of two willow trees and a small blob sitting under them, a little ways from the sidewalk.

With a sigh (he didn’t let himself think very much about what he was doing — it was just to apologize and get back at Asten.), he made his way in that direction, stepping off the sidewalk and into the grass, toward the trees. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he recognized that the blob sitting on the ground was her — she was out of her dress now, wearing what looked like a huge sweater and leggings, with some fuzzy boot-slipper-things that looked like the ones Summer had worn in the nurse’s office. Her hair was pulled up into a curly ponytail. She was looking at him, sitting on the grass with her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms tight around them.

With a sharp inhale, Bentley went and sat himself beside her on the ground.

For a while, they were quiet, with only the fountain and gentle breeze to distract them. Bentley just kind of watched her for a minute — she didn’t really look at him, she just laid her chin on her knees and watched the fountain in the distance.

Bentley sighed, pulling his legs up criss-cross. “I’m really sorry I made you cry. I’m not usually so mean, I don’t… know why I said that. You looked pretty.”

He saw Chloe glance over at him in the dark, and it was his turn to look at the fountain instead of at her. “Really?” She asked. Then she cleared her throat and looked away. “It’s okay. I know I’ve been weirding you out. What you said… it isn’t actually why I was crying.”

He looked over at her in the dark, her features becoming slowly more discernible as his eyes continued to adjust. “Oh?”

Chloe shrugged, and one of the shoulders of her sweater fell off only for her to tug it back up anxiously. “I mean, it didn’t exactly help, but… right after Vera started playing, my mom called me.”

She breathed in and out, laying her head back on her knees. “I’m not allowed to go home for Christmas, because… of you.”

Bentley furrowed his brow, glancing back over at her. “What?”

Chloe glanced back at him, her brown eyes flicking back and forth between his before she smiled sadly. “My mom went to Redwood when she was young — seduced every guy in her path, married into a family of millionaires, divorced him and got all his money. My two older sisters are doing the same — one just got married and the other just got divorced,” She explained softly, looking away again. “My mom wanted me to do the same thing. Y’know, so I don’t have to work n’stuff. She never found anyone for me, but then she just about died when she heard Bruce Wayne’s kid was coming to Redwood this year. So she told me I had to…”

Chloe glanced up at him, her brown eyes bouncing across his face again. “Seduce you. So I can marry you. Take your name. Be a Wayne. Get rich.”

Bentley exhaled lightly. “Oh. That’s… kinda…”

“Crazy? Screwed up? Psychotic? I know. We’re freaking thirteen and she…” Chloe sighed, shaking her head. “I’m sorry I freaked you out. Most teenage boys just fall on their face in the presence of a girl like that, they always have… but then you didn’t, and I didn’t know what to do, so I just… kept doing it, because… that’s what I’ve always been told to do. Even now, it’s… weird. To just talk to you.”

Bentley said nothing. A mom forcing her daughter to act like that… was kind of… he wasn’t sure.

“My moms all about, like, schedules and timing, and she wanted you around my finger by the dance. And you weren’t, so I got punished,”

Bentley breathed in heavily, hoping the reality of the strange and slightly concerning situation would change on his exhale. It didn't. “I’m… sorry.”

Chloe waved her hand at him. “It’s fine. I mean, if I was just normal you might’ve been friends with me… it wasn’t your fault.”

Bentley looked down at his own lap. “That really sucks, though. About Christmas. You just have to… stay on campus?”

“Yep,” She replied, popping the ‘p’, looking out at the fountain. “All by myself while my whole family just… gets together and forgets about me.”

Bentley frowned when he heard her sniffle lightly, and she turned away from him.

Oh, God. Now a girl was crying. What in the world was he supposed to do with that? 

“I’m sorry,” She sniffled. “You didn’t care about any of that. What did you want to talk about?”

“I… just came to apologize for being mean,” Bentley replied. “I feel like crap about it.”

“Everyone in high school feels like crap about something all the time,” She snickered emptily, but Bentley was pretty sure she just did it to mask a sniff. “Being a teenager sucks; like I can’t do anything right.”

He nodded in agreement. “Yeah, it does.”

Another long silence ensued where the only thing Bentley could hear was Chloe crying. He glanced around awkwardly — at the fountain, the grass, the trees above them. (What would he do if it was one of his roommates?)

Eventually, he reached over and rested a hand on her back, moving his thumb back and forth gently. 

He immediately regretted it when she quickly reached back and grabbed his wrist without as much as turning her head, probably to push it off or get onto him for touching her.

Or… not?

Actually, she… laced her fingers between his, pulled his hand close, and held it.

Bentley was glad it was dark, because he was sure his face turned the color of a tomato. He’d never… and… with a girl? Was this even allowed?

He wasn’t exactly sure what to do, but his arm was at a weird angle, so he just scooted closer to her and… let her. He wasn’t going to be the jerk that was mean to her and then ripped his hand out of hers while she was obviously in distress and needed comfort, no matter how weird it was. Holding her hand wasn’t bad, was it? He was pretty sure it wasn’t or Layla wouldn’t have grabbed his earlier.

It was weird, and he was pretty sure his hand was clammy because he was kinda freaking out. Did she actually think he was… hot… or was that just something she’d said to appease her mother? Was it all fake, or was there a chance that she… because he… didn’t…

For a while, she just cried, and Bentley felt like the biggest bag of garbage despite her saying it wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t good at situations like that — he never had been, he never would be. It was all technically his fault, right? That she got in trouble?

(Jeez, he was just screwing things up left and right, wasn’t he?)

Silently, he wiggled his hand out of hers, which earned him a confused, teary look that made him feel ten times worse. Then, without saying a thing, he extended his arm out to the side like Bruce often did.

Chloe just looked at him for a moment. Then, like he’d told her she was the ugliest girl in the world or something, she started crying even harder and pushed herself into his side, wrapping her arms around his torso and hiding her face in his hoodie to sob there. And he just sort of hugged her back. (It worked the same way with girls that it did with other guys, right?)

And that’s how they stayed for a long time.

(And he kinda forgot he was there just to spite Asten.)

--

tag list that never works lmao

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun

@xiaonothere

@skylathescholarly @flyrobinflyy

[deeptrashwitch]

So...I was looking around tumblr as usual while listening music. And since is already december, in my country (not sure if it's the same on others) it's usual to hear the damn songs tipical of this month OVER AND OVER AGAIN.

And yeah, it would be tolerable at least if THEY WEREN'T PLAYING THEM SINCE FUCKING SEPTEMBER!

Just why? It is enough hearing it non-stop during december, hell, I would even feel it was fun if it was only since november. But no...four months. FOUR GODDAMNED MONTHS HEARING THIS! And it doesn't help that my neighbor decide to play them at 3 am.

Let me die already...

So yeah, for now let's leave behind the fact that I'm about to throw my dad's stereo through a window and wanted to rant a bit. I was thinking about my boys (lost the inspiration for the main story, sorry) and how they'll be during christmas or most likely in this situation.

So here they are!

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

Alicia was about to loose her cool.

It was november and even if she loved the holidays, there was a problem. She didn't know who told Marcus about certain songs and whoever did it, now he was a dead man walking. Don't misunderstand her...she loved those songs during Christmas and New Years, they were basically a tradition on her house, but HOLY HELL if she wasn't tired of them.

Why? May you ask

BECAUSE MARCUS HAS PLAYED THOSE MOTHERFUCKERS SINCE FUCKING JUNE!

And now Edward started to sing them without knowing what the hell they meant it was nothing bad tho or how to pronounce it and the pilot wasn't the best singer either.

-Alicia?-asked Luke when he saw her staring to the void as other round of those songs started

-I am THIS close to commit a murder inside here-hissed as her eyebrow twitched

-Your...your fingers are touching

-Exactly! God forgive me if I find who told Marcus to play this over and over

Luke didn't say anything, but he knew exactly who was it and never expected their Captain would react like this. He decided to keep quiet for now...for his own sake. That was like that until end of december and Alicia was going crazy.

At least until Wraith decided to watch the world burn and she told the Captain who was it. She didn't know if laugh or cry of the pure anger, but took a deep breath before looking at Dominique with a little smile.

-How bad can I leave them?-asked as her eyebrow twitched again

-Leave Jackson alone, you know the poor bastard has been busy with some of your own wounds during training

-Fair enough

Alicia got out of Dominique's office and found Elijah first, who salute her with a smile. She was alright with him and most of her team, so she just started chatting with him a bit as he told her about christmas in his house.

-So you started to dance...while drunk?-asked with a smile

-Never drink vodka, whisky and rum together I guess

-Good point, oh, by the way, have you seen Luke, Noah and Alexander anywhere?

-Uhh, last time I saw them, they were on the yard

-Great, thanks Elijah

-I just need to ask but, do I need to tell Jackson to prepare the bay?-asked a bit nervous

-Nah, hmm, but I told Luke what would happen if I found out...

-Yep, I'll tell him just in case

And so, once Alicia let Elijah go, he went straight to the medic bay to talk with the blonde SEAL. Blackwell just sighed and prepares everything to cure those three idiots once the Captain finished with them. They both went and found the rest of the team and went just to contemplate the spectacle, even Wraith was watching from her office.

Soon they saw the three soon-to-die soldiers talk as they walked and then Elliot saw the Captain. Everyone had a chill down their spine when they saw the smile in her face and, for worse, the broomstick on her hands. Once the Lieutenant, the Corporal and the Private noticed her...all of them went pale as wax.

-Oh crap, she found out-said Alexander shaking

-No shit, Sherlock!-snapped Noah in his direction before they started running

-¡PEQUEÑAS MIERDAS! ¡TRAIGAN SU TRASERO AQUÍ! (YOU LITTLE SHITS! BRING YOUR ASSES HERE!)-screamed Alicia in spanish chasing them with her eyes filled of anger-¡SEIS MESES! ¡SEIS MALDITOS MESES! ¡CASI ME VUELVO LOCA POR SU CULPA! (SIX MONTHS! SIX FUCKING MONTHS! I ALMOST WENT CRAZY BECAUSE OF YOU!)

The woman chased them screaming for almost an hour before she could smack the broom on something, the floor if we are being specific, before looking them directly to the eyes. All three of them just watched with a mix of awe and fear how the broomstick was broken in thousands of pieces, then she just whispered "run" and they fled for their lives. Alicia smiled as she used the broken stick as a javelin, missing for mere inches the back of Luke's head.

-Is she trying to murder them for real or...?-asked Francis surprised

-I...don't think so-muttered Nicholas raising an eyebrow

Once they lost sight of the three, Alicia started to laugh and that just terrified her team before she picked the broomstick pieces. She walked towards them before throw the pices in the trash and smiled them as usual.

-What?

-You are scary, ma'am-said Marcus almost laughing of incredulity-you almost killed the Lieutenant!

-Of course not!-answered as she laughed again-I never aimed to his head! If I did...well you know what would have happened

-How?-asked Edward as the woman shuggred

-Not the first time I chase someone and throw them something, that's the way I usually stop my siblings of stealing my things

-So what was the point?-asked Jackson with a smile

-Scare them enough to leave me alone for a while and NEVER suggest Marcus to do that again, because I know pretty well they told him they were different songs when I told him to stop every time-murmured the Captain with a sigh-and they'll have bathroom duty for two months, yes, even Luke

-Poor them-said Elijah with a giggle

-You're kidding? This was the funniest shit I've seen since a long time-said Elliot wheezing-oh God...why didn't I record it?

-I'm sure Wraith did-said Alicia before stretching a bit-alright people, drinks are on me today! For New Year!

All of them cheered once they heard that, and decided to go to one of the city bars before midnight, when they'll call their family on their own.

-And someone find those three for God's sake!

[skeetusmcyeetus]

I’ve making headcanons about all of my hyper fixations for a while now and just dumping them on my friends so I’m gonna also dump them here.

If you’re into All For the Game , My Hero Academia, ATLA, The Raven Cycle stay fuckn tuned my doods bc I have a loooot of stuff rattling around my empty skull.

Not all of these are 100% mine some of them are already pretty popular and I’m expanding on them or I heard something similar and edited it to my own tastes

I’ll separate them by series,,,

Theres like one canon that’s mildly nsfw

TW: drug abuse

Mha/Bnha

pro hero kirishima’s Red Riot™️ merch is insanely size inclusive bc he wants fatgum to be able to wear the hoodie that kiri’s pr team sent him but that’s not all,,

If he wasn’t super gay and in love with Bakugou he’d be very Into BBWs so again his merch is super size inclusive bc he wants everyone to be able to wear it

The company that makes the merch also takes requests for special made merch for people who’s quirks interfere with a “normal” size or dimension

ALSO ,,,,this man(kiri) is built like a fuckn MACK TRUCK OKAY he is 6’7” and cannot fit through doorways without ducking and turning a little to the side ,,, he is broad And still wears no shirt™️ ,,, this being said ,, bakugou is still around 5’8” and pretty slim don’t get me wrong he’s extremely strong and toned but he’s not huge,, it makes flying easier if he stays a little lighter ,,,,,,, the point is,, sometimes kiri will pick up bakugou with one arm and bakugou can’t even pretend to hate it anymore

Also,,,, fatgum has to use special pens and keyboards because of how big his hands are,,, he’s literally 8’2” I won’t take criticism on this

Fatgum actually loves wearing red riot and sun eater merch

Allmight and Inko start dating and one day when they’re out someone comments on how much all might “looks like a skeleton” and she absolutley lets loose on them for being so vapid and shallow and how “he’s risked his life to save people like you more times than you have ever even thought about being helpful in your life and it would serve you well to treat someone who’d die for you without even knowing you with more respect”

All might had to gently pull her away bc the guy was crying and she wasn’t anywhere near finished with him

Midnight is Asexual and aggressively pretends to be horny on main™️ because for one, it works with her quirk and two, nothing sells better than sex especially when you’re a woman.

Bakugou and kirishima use sign language to talk shit at Public events

Dabi is addicted to painkillers because he’s been on them his entire life,, he wakes up with the shakes and sometimes toga has to help him take his meds in the morning because he’s already in withdrawal

Tensei was the first one to realize that iida was autistic and immediately did copious amounts of research on ASD and how to be a good brother to him

ATLA

sokka grows his hair as long as Zuko’s (except the sides obvi) and sometimes he’ll wear his hair in the fire nation top knot and zuko loses it every time

Azula gets help and now sometimes when she wakes up with the sun after a night of fitful sleep she goes to the courtyard to have tea with iroh. They never talk, but then again they never need to.

Sometimes after a hard day sokka falls asleep in the bathtub and wakes up to zuko warming the water back up and washing his hair for him

Suki lounges in zukos throne while zuko gets worked up about stuff and paces all around the room

Mai is on the ace spectrum

When sokka and zuko visit the southern water tribe zuko will firebend for the all of the kids in the village,,, they love him so much and sometimes sokka gets a little teary eyed watching him

Sokka braids zukos hair water tribe style and it’s the hottest thing maybe ever

Zuko takes sokka on shopping sprees pretty frequently and sokka fuckn loves it

One time someone has the nerve to call sokka “the fire lords sugar baby” and sokka just flips his ponytail over his shoulder Ariana style and says “and what about it?”

The Raven cycle

Ronan has 100% killed Robert Parrish in his dreams and when he wakes up to see Adam next to him he almost immediately wants to go back to sleep and do it again for all the pain he’s caused Adam

Gansey is oblivious to the fact that he is indeed shredded,, when he gets really worked up he moves his arms a l o t like rolls up his sleeves, crosses and uncrosses his arms and The gang’s favorite is when he puts his hands on his head and subconsciously flexes,,,, literally entire gangsey will group swoon at him and he genuinely thinks they are marvelling at his passion for whatever he’s worked up about

Ronan watched broke back mountain once when he was like 16 and now all he can think about is being a gay cowboy ,,,

Adam will read people’s tarot wrong if theyre douchebags

Don’t you think it’s funny that the ganseys don’t have any straight children?

Blue has a T-shirt from each member of the gangsey (except Noah,, rip Noah) and shes created a terrible Franken-T-shirt by ripping them up and sewing them all back together in an extremely ugly patch work thing

Adam talks in Latin in his sleep and it really freaks his roommate out,, like a lot,, not to mention the fact that Adam already creeps him out to begin with bc he’s got that other vibe that comes from being tied to cabeswater and lindenmere ,, 6 out of 7 days his roommate is convinced that he’s a witch or a fairy or something

Ronan teaches opal how to bake and opal burns everything on purpose

aftg

Neil has definitely killed multiple people to survive

Neil’s mom definitely made him kill someone at least twice to make sure he could kill to survive on his own if they got separated

he probably definitely still has nightmares about each one

Matt and Dan both had a crush on Neil for like 30 seconds and absolutely talked to each other about him

Ppl always talk about how hot it is to crush a watermelon with your thighs,,,, Andrew could do it with his arms

Aarons ass is so flat and Andrew has an absolute dumptruck

Kevin started out as one of those annoying “obsessed with WWII” history guys and now he’s actually very into queer history and will rant about the lavender scare for an hour if you let him

The foxes lounge room(?) has a dart board with riko’s face on it to this day,, they literally have a drawer full of copies the same image of riko and every time one gets worn out they put a new one up. It’s more of an inside joke now but wymack still hates that little puke even though he’s dead so it stays up

Post-canon Neil gets drunk and teaches the team how to steal a car by hot wiring Matt’s truck

Matt does drag for halloween one year and Dan liked it a little too much *cough cough* she pegged him while he was still in drag

Someone once asked Renee if she was “saving herself for marriage like a good Christian girl should” and Allison knocked them out cold and stepped over the body

Neil calls Aaron ugly to his face literally any chance he gets (I feel like this one might be canon but I actually don’t know What’s real anymore)

Andrew Unironically wears a pink apron that says “kiss the cook” that Nicky got him for Christmas when he bakes

Okay I think that’s it ? For now?? Let me know if y’all want more,,,,, I’ll separate them next time I just really had to dump these and I didn’t want to make multiple posts.

I made this at 5:30 in the morning sorry if it’s riddled with typos and errors.

[anileahvictoria]

Inside out (But It's Dyslexic and ADHD) P.S This Actually Happened To Me.

"Good morning, sister Eggbert!"

"Morning, Anileah. Can you take attendance today?"

Drama *yelling into the intercom*: AAAAHH! CODE RED, CODE RED! I REPEAT, WE HAVE A CODE RED!"

Social Skills: Whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down. We'll just use the chalkboard excuse. We've seen plenty of kids use that excuse before.

Self Doubt: It's not gonna work. It's a whiteboard.

Mean Streak: You're kidding me. That's it, this is all your fault, Dyslexia.

Dyslexia: My fault? I didn't put the whiteboard there!

Mean Streak: Yeah, but everyone wouldn't be freaking out if we could actually spell something!

Dyslexia: I can't help it! My brain just shuts off!

Mean Streak: Exactly! Thanks to you, all our brains shut off, so thanks for that, thank you.

Passion: It's ok, Dyslexia. No one blames you. You help us out in a lot of ways!

Mean Streak: Speak for yourself.

"Sure, no problem!" I said, trying to ignore my pounding heart as I walked up to the whiteboard and picked up the marker.

ADHD: Wait, what did we just agree to do?

Mean Streak: Social Skills just agreed to get us all killed.

Social Skills: We had to say something! What was I supposed to do? Say no?

Everyone: YES!

Social Skills: Come on, guys, that would be uncooperative. We don't even have a valid excuse.

Mean Streak: Yes we do, and it's standing right in front of you.

Passion: Don't be mean, Mean Streak. Dyslexia's strengths just lie elsewhere. For example, did you know she is VERY creative?

Mean Streak: Oh, that's wonderful, Passion! Maybe she can write everyone's names in pretty cursive! Oh wait, she can't even read cursive, let alone write it.

Social Skills: Argue about this later, guys. Drama, got any other excuses for us?

Drama: Sure, sure, how about the fact that WE DON'T KNOW EVERYONE'S NAMES!

Social Skills: What? Yes we do.

ADHD: LOL, nope.

Social Skills: What do you mean, 'LOL nope'?

Mean Streak: You never actually introduced us to anyone.

Social Skills: Oh. Yeah, you're right. Sorry guys, that one's on me.

Drama: WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!

Mean Streak: Of embarrassment.

Social Skills: Wait, there's Landon! We know his name.

Mean Streak: Yeah, but does cross-eyes over there know how to spell it?

"Hey Landon, come write your name down on the board."

ADHD: Oo, good call.

"Uh, isn't that whoever's taking attendance's job?"

ADHD: I take it back.

Sister Eggbert peeked up from her lesson plan, "Yeah, just write their names down as they come in."

ADHD: Busted.

Everyone: Will you shut up already?

Social Skills *taking deep breath*: It's fine, guys, we got thi- DYSLEXIA NO!

"Alright." I say, scribbling 'Landin' onto the board, cringing inside at how sloppy my handwriting was.

I cringed even harder when I heard Landon say, "Um, you spelled my name with an I."

"Oh, yeah, oops." I could hear the gears turning in my brain. "It's with an E, duh."

"Uh, no. L-A-N-^%$#@^*."

Drama: ABORT ABORT! He spelled it too fast! We already failed twice! Give up while we're ahead!

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah. Landon."

"No, no. How'd you spell it?"

"I just told you. L-A-N-$#%^$#. Landon. With an O."

I sighed inwardly with relief at the last sentence. Thank heavens I wouldn't have to ask him to repeat himself a third time.

"Oh, of course! I knew that." I said, trying to laugh it off.

Mean Streak: Dyslexia, not cool.

Social Skills: Yeah, I gotta admit, Dyslexia, that... that was painful.

Passion: It's ok, Dyslexia. One person at a time. Who's next?

Social Skills: Coltrin.

ADHD: YES! My main man Coltrin! We had WAY too much fun sitting next to each other.

Mean Streak: Yeah, that's why sister Eggbert separated you two.

ADHD: Ah, good times, good times.

Social Skills *ignoring ADHD and Mean Streak*: Ok, but this time we're gonna ask him how to spell it BEFORE we attempt to. Ok Dyslexia?

Dyslexia *not paying attention*: Col-trin. Coltrin. Is it with a K or a C?

"Yo Coltrin, how do you spell your name?"

Coltrin lifted his head up from where it was nestled in his arms on his desk, "Seriously, bro?"

Drama: *passes out*.

Mean Streak: Great, now he thinks we're an illiterate idiot.

Self Doubt: Are we?

Passion: No! Of course we aren't!

Social Skills: Ok, ok, I admit, things look bleak, but I can get us out of this.

Passion: Actually, I was thinking we'd let ADHD try.

Everyone except ADHD: WHAT?!

Passion: Well, he does know Coltrin best. Aaand, he's already at the controls...

"Yes, seriously. Dude, Landon literally spells his name like someone misspelling London. For all I know, you spell your name with a C!"

"Dude, my name is spelled with a C."

"C what I mean?!"

Coltrin gave his signature lopsided grin, "Heh, I C what you did there."

I grinned right back, "Dude, you C right through me."

"No one C's you the way I do."

"Duuuude."

"Duuuuuude."

Mean Streak *facepalming*: Great. Now EVERYONE in the class thinks we're idiots. Nice going ADHD.

Social Skills: Actually... ADHD managed to handle a potentially awkward situation with humor.

Mean Streak: Yeah, stupid humor.

Social Skills: I mean, if it works, it works. Well done ADHD.

Drama: Uh, I hate to ruin the moment, BUT WE HAVE TEN STUDENTS INBOUND!

Social skills: Ok team, game plan. #1 from now on, we ask how to spell their names before attempting it on our own.

Self Doubt: What if they speak too fast?

Social Skills: There's no shame in asking them to repeat themselves more slowly.

Mean Streak: Yes, there is.

Social Skills: #2 no one listens to Mean Streak.

Mean Streak: Oh, so it's ok to listen to neurodivergent over there, but not me?

Social Skills: #3 we are going to ignore Mean Streak. And finally, to avoid this situation in the future, we will wait until at least three other students are in class before entering the premises.

Self Doubt: But what if we get here early? We always get here early.

ADHD: Easy, we sleep in.

Social Skills: And risk being late? No way. We'll just wait outside the class or hide in the bathroom or something.

Mean Streak: 'Cause that's not weird.

Social Skills: Whatever, we'll figure something out. Until then, we've got Marin coming in on the right. Dyslexia, does two R's look right?

Dyslexia: Hmm, no, that doesn't look right. I think It's just one.

"Um, it's just one R, Anileah." Marin said sweetly.

"Was just about to fix that."

Social skills: Ee! A cool kid knows our name!

Mean Streak: Of course she does. Unlike some people, she actually pays attention when someone introduces themselves.

ADHD: Don't look at me! How am I supposed to pay attention when Passion is using up all the memory space to remember everyones favorite color?!

Passion: Landon just changed his to blue last week.

ADHD: Whoa. Seriously, how'd you know?

Social Skills: Right. Well, good call, Dyslexia. Passion, the two boys behind her-

Passion: One of them's Noah, the other's Jacob... I think.

ADHD: Naw, Jacob's the tall one who sat down like five minutes ago.

Drama: Five minutes ago?! WELL, WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY SOMETHING?!

ADHD: I thought you already got him.

Social skills *going through the list*: No, I don't see any Jacob. But there's a Joey. We don't have a Joey in our class... Dyslexia?

Dyslexia: Sorry! I didn't know if Jacob was spelled with a K or a C, so I just put Joey. That's short for Jacob, right?

Social Skills *dragging a hand over her face*: No, Joey is short for Joseph, not Jacob.

Dyslexia: W-what?

Social Skills: Try both. *speaking slowly* J-A-C-K-O-B. See if that looks right.

Several agonizing minutes later, after attendance has been successfully completed (more or less).

ADHD: There's something off about Jacob.

Social Skills: Really? He seems fine to me.

ADHD: No, not the boy, dingbat, the name.

Dyslexia: There- there is?

ADHD: Yeah, your J is backward.

Dyslexia: No. Gosh, please no!

ADHD: Mmhm, and your K.

Dyslexia *groaning and burying her face in her hands*: Oh no...

ADHD: J.K! Ha! Get it? Cause I said, your J and K were backward! J.K!

Everyone: SHUT UP!

The End

[nicnacsnonsense]

Okay so this is going to be part Good Omens meta, part head canon, all ramble, but I promise I have a point. Well, technically it’s a question, but I am going somewhere with this; there’s just going to be a lot of pit stops and detours along the way.

We’re starting with Crowley. I know Aziraphale’s the soft one, but Crowley’s pretty soft for a demon. He’s not a total cuddly marshmallow like I see him portrayed as sometimes – he does seem to genuinely enjoy the “annoying people” parts of his job. Though even then he doesn’t seem to enjoy the annoyance for its own sake as much as the fact that it represents he has been successful; what he really seems to enjoy is the cleverness and artistry of it – the way he describes knocking out the telephone systems in the book is like a beautiful symphony of irritation. (Actually it’s weird to me that Hastur and Ligur’s method of chipping away at one soul at a time for years is called craftmanship while Crowley’s method is presented as a matter of efficiency. Like H&L are over here making artisanal meals with only the finest ingredients while Crowley is slinging out fast food burgers. Because to me Crowley’s method seems the one that takes more consideration and skill and is, taken for what it is, a thing of beauty, whereas H&L thing just seems like blunt-force trauma. I’m sorry you sat on this guy’s shoulder whispering in his ear for ten years in order to win his soul over? Unless he’s literally Job or Jesus Christ, I’m not impressed.) Crowley isn’t a total marshmallow, but he is soft. He’s not cruel or sadistic and he doesn’t like seeing people get genuinely hurt or killed. Now when other demons are sadistic, he doesn’t like it, but he seems to largely accept it as the way things are. When Heaven does terrible things, he seems kind of disgusted but not terribly surprised. But when it’s the humans or God doing terrible things, that’s what hits him hard. For slightly different reasons in each case, but ultimately it boils down to “I thought you were better than this,” and he cannot emotionally handle it when they prove they aren’t.

Moving on to Aziraphale (I promise we’ll come back to our soft demon boi in a minute). There’s a lot of different takes out there about how book Aziraphale differs from show Aziraphale, but the most compelling one I’ve ever seen argues that it’s not so much that Aziraphale is inherently different as it is Heaven is different in the two versions, which in turn impacts how Aziraphale behaves. In the book Heaven shows up on three occasions: when Aziraphale calls Heaven and speaks with the Metatron, when Aziraphale accidentally gets himself beamed up to Heaven (which could be considered a continuation of the same event), and at the airbase to try to restart the Apocalypse. In all of these cases either Aziraphale reached out to Heaven first or his presence was incidental to Heaven showing up. The general implication is that no one is checking in on him really; he has his own personal loyalty and sense of duty to Heaven urging him to do what they expect of him, but unless he’s really blatant about it, no one’s going to know if he breaks the rules here and there. Book Aziraphale’s life is basically one long “who you are in the dark” test, with the plot twist at the end where he flicks on the lights switch and flips everyone off while he does the thing he wasn’t supposed to because it turns out that was the right thing to do all along.

By contrast in the show Heaven is showing up all the time. Aziraphale is dragged up there multiple times for reports, archangels are constantly popping down to Earth to talk with him, and they actually proactively uncover Aziraphale’s involvement with Crowley. Granted, we can assume this is a higher than normal rate of involvement because of the fast-approaching Apocalypse, but the point remains that show Aziraphale is dealing with a lot more oversight. If he breaks the rules, there is a good chance he will be caught, and even if he just does something perfectly allowed but considered to be unbefitting an angel, he will be met with scorn and disapproval. That’s why show Aziraphale is more anxious, less likely to break any rules, and more cautious if he does so.

An extension of this difference in how Heaven behaves that I haven’t seen mentioned before, is it impacts how Aziraphale perceives Hell to be. Aziraphale doesn’t have any real firsthand experience of Hell, so he has to make inferences as far as what they’re like to work for. His main two sources of information are going to be what Heaven tells him – likely to be sparse and often inaccurate – and what Crowley tells him – honestly also likely to be sparse and often inaccurate. Obviously, Crowley knows what working for Hell is like, and there are probably some areas that he’s willing to be fairly open and straight-forward about. But when it comes to things like punishments for failure or disobedience, Crowley’s going to spend most of the time evading and downplaying with occasional bits of shocking honesty to make a point and blatant overexaggerations for dramatic effect. With limited information to go on, Aziraphale is forced to use what Heaven’s like and extrapolate from there. And since the book and show versions have two such different starting points, even if book Aziraphale concludes Hell is more overbearing than book Heaven and show Aziraphale concludes Hell is less thorough on following up than show Heaven, they are still going to come to very different conclusions as to how present and aware of what Crowley is up to Hell is. Which is relevant because not only is show Aziraphale dealing with a Heaven that is more like to catch misbehavior, he also perceives Hell as being more aware and therefore Crowley more likely to be caught and punished than book Aziraphale does.

Circling back to Crowley and his emotional upset at the cruelties of the world. The reason we had to talk about Aziraphale is because how he behaves has an impact on how Crowley copes. Now with the book we don’t have our “a love 6000 years in the making” backstory, and Crowley and Aziraphale are just generally less prominent than they are in the show, which means we have less to go on. The only real reference we get is Crowley’s reaction to the Spanish Inquisition. He gets a commendation for it without having done anything, goes to take a look, and then gets drunk for a week. This would imply that drinking is how he handles these sorts of things, but I don’t think we’re getting the full story here. I say think because this is the most head canon-y part of all this; I don’t have any real evidence other than if you assume this is true then it does explain some things I’ll get to in a minute. The book tells us that after looking in on the Inquisition Crowley “had come back and got drunk for a week.” But back to where? The implication is back to the cantinas in the nicer parts of Spain where he had been before going for his look, but I think he went back to Aziraphale (who may very well have already been in the cantinas with him anyway). Because honestly, an actual literal demon with actual literal snake eyes getting shitfaced drunk in the middle of the Spanish Inquisition, knowing full well he’ll melt into a puddle of goo and die if anyone even sprinkles any holy water on him, is pretty fucking stupid. But if that demon had an actual literal angel watching over him… Aziraphale is by nature a guardian/protector, and in the book he isn’t constantly concerned about their relationship being discovered. I think over time Crowley has learned that if he needs to fall apart or be vulnerable for a while, he can go to Aziraphale and rely on Aziraphale watching over him and supporting him until he’s ready to pull himself back together again.

Show Aziraphale does not have the same freedom as his book counterpart, and so cannot always reliably be there for Crowley in the same way. Which is not a dig on Aziraphale at all; he’s in a different situation where he has to be focused on keeping them safe from their superiors, so he simply does not have the additional emotional capacity sometimes, and that’s not his fault. Despite that, Crowley does still get the emotional support he needs from Aziraphale, it just has to function in a different way.

Our episode 3 cold open lets us watch this develop quite well. Our first two scenes (aside from the one with God asking about the sword, obviously) are Noah’s Ark and the crucifixion, where we see Crowley approach Aziraphale to essentially needle him about what’s going on. At this point Aziraphale isn’t so much support as someone he can redirect his anger toward – I assume this is how Book Omens started too, and we’ll get to the divergence in a second. Crowley is willing to drop the anger with Aziraphale much faster in the crucifixion scene, suggesting they have grown closer over the intervening 3000 years, and Crowley no longer finds as much emotional catharsis in being angry at Aziraphale, but he continues to approach Aziraphale that way out of habit.

Then we get to Rome, where Crowley has, according to the script book, come to town to tempt Caligula only to be shocked and upset when he learns how very much Caligula doesn’t need tempting. Crowley goes to a bar where Aziraphale happens to be – whether he knew Aziraphale was there or not before he arrived is irrelevant, but I am assuming he was aware of Aziraphale’s presence by the time he walked in the door. And here is where book and show diverge. Because Crowley has approached Aziraphale about things he’s been upset about in the past, but it’s one thing to needle an angel about things Heaven is responsible for; it’s quite another to walk up to your crush and just start complaining about some jerk who’s put you in a bad mood. Book Crowley, who has been dealing with a slightly more relaxed Aziraphale, says fuck it, goes and sits down across from him and says, “You would not believe the day I’ve had.” And from there we develop into the dynamic mentioned previously for Book Omens.

As mentioned, show Aziraphale is more anxious about their relationship, resulting in show Crowley falling on the other side of this choice and not approaching Aziraphale. This leaves it to Aziraphale to approach Crowley this time. Now as much as we may tease, Aziraphale’s not actually an idiot. He can tell Crowley is upset about something, and he’s picked up on the pattern where when Crowley is upset, he likes to be able rant a bit about Heaven. Obviously Aziraphale can sometimes find those conversations uncomfortable, but he’s feeling good today, so he’s happy to engage in some banter, especially if it’ll cheer his friend up. But Crowley’s the one who usually starts the conversation, so Aziraphale wracks his brain for something he can say about the nature of good and evil and ineffability and comes up with “Still a demon, then?” Shockingly, this doesn’t work. Still he keeps the conversation going and tries again with “Oh well, let me tempt you to... Oh, no, that's, that's your job, isn't it?” This still doesn’t work the way he’s expecting it to, but they do have a very nice meal and a good conversation that’s not really about Heaven and Hell at all, after which Crowley seems to be in much better spirits. Which leads him to the conclusion that it’s not the specifics that are important, just the fact of having the conversation and giving something Crowley to distract himself with.

Skipping ahead to the Globe, two quick things to point out. This is the first time we see Crowley do his little circle of Aziraphale, proving that by this point they established the dynamic where Crowley protects Aziraphale. The second is this is also the first time Aziraphale really intentionally uses his puppy dog eyes on Crowley, meaning their acts of service dynamic is established as well. Knowing these have been established helps inform the decisions Aziraphale makes in the Bastille scene.

Bastille scene. We can assume everything about this incident is something Aziraphale has staged, from actually getting arrested to his claims that he can’t rescue himself because he was reprimanded for too many frivolous miracles. I will say I don’t think that last one is a complete fabrication; I think either that it is something that has happened, but a good while ago such that he’s not worried about it anymore, or it did just happen, but Aziraphale actually had been using an unusually large amount of miracles recently – possibly as part of getting his bookshop set up – and has since dialed it back enough that he can use one or two at the Bastille, be it to free himself or just to change his clothing, without getting in trouble. However, while I do think it was staged, I don’t think the primary propose was to indulge in Aziraphale’s damsel in distress fantasies; that was just an unexpected bonus. Aziraphale’s main objective was helping Crowley.

Aziraphale knew about the French Revolution, knew Crowley was in the area, and knew Crowley was liable to find the whole situation upsetting. His response was to put on his prettiest outfit, and get himself locked up. He’s broadcasting to Crowley, don’t worry about the humans, just focus on me, don’t think about what they’re doing, just look at the silly angel all chained over here in need of rescue. Of course this isn’t completely divorced from the current situation, but in a way that’s actually better, because it takes that situation and lowers the stakes – Aziraphale isn’t going to die, worse case scenario he’ll just get discorporated – and puts Crowley back in control of the situation – he can’t stop the Revolution, even if he’s capable he’d be risking too much trouble with Hell if he tried, but he can save Aziraphale and fly under Hell’s radar while doing it. Basically, we’ve taken the “Crowley needs a distraction” conclusion Aziraphale came to back in Rome and refined it in the intervening 1750 years.

Even Aziraphale’s suspicions that Crowley is behind the whole revolution can be seen as an extension of the indirect comfort he’s offering. He knows that Crowley is going to have to tell Hell that he is behind all this stuff that’s upsetting him, so when Aziraphale accuses him of the very same, it gives Crowley an opportunity and a safe place to assert that, no, he is not responsible. And not just to say it, but to say it and have someone believe him, that it isn’t his fault and he would never do anything really terrible like this.

This gives us the final form of how Show Omens dynamic works. Instead of offering Crowley a safe haven, Aziraphale emotionally supports Crowley by offering him opportunities to be the savior.

What’s especially interesting about this is if we take these two different dynamics, where in Book Omens Aziraphale serves as Crowley’s safe haven and in Show Omens Crowley is Aziraphale’s savior, that actually explains four of the big differences between the book and show: Crowley’s reaction to being called nice, Crowley crossing the M25 with optimism vs imagination, the whole run away with me subplot, and Crowley’s post bookshop fire reaction.

A demon being called nice is a pretty risky thing for the demon in question. As Crowley points out during his and Aziraphale’s conversation in Eden, a demon can get in a lot of trouble for doing the right thing, and I can’t imagine being accused of being nice would work out much better for him. But book Crowley is used to being vulnerable like that around Aziraphale. He still snaps at Aziraphale when he says it, because Crowley is stressed out and right now is not the time for that, but it is ultimately an established part of their relationship dynamic so it really only annoys him. By contrast, in the show a lot of Crowley and Aziraphale’s relationship is built around avoiding saying those things for their own safety. Given that, it’s no wonder his negative reaction would be more extreme.

There’s a whole long meta out there about how both Crowley’s are optimists, but in different ways (and if someone knows where to find it, please let me know so I can link it). Book Crowley is a more passive sort of optimism; he just generally believes that eventually things will work out for him. This is consistent with the way he handles it when he’s upset about things; he just goes to hang out with Aziraphale, lets himself be upset for a while, eventually it passes, and he’s good to go again. Whereas show Crowley has a more active sort of optimism, believing things can and will work out fine, as long as he steps up to make it happen. Again, this ties into how he deals with being upset; he goes out and does something about it. Granted, he’s not usually fixing the actual problem itself, but he’s being active related to what’s upsetting him, e.g. he can’t stop WWII, but he can go save Aziraphale from some Nazi spies. So when book Crowley drives through the M25 he has his optimism that things are going to work out as sort of a default mental state in his head, and it turns out The Secret really does work for demons so he gets through. Meanwhile show Crowley is actively applying himself to believing the car is fine, and that’s what pulls him through.

This passive/active difference also explains the addition of the “we could go off together” subplot in the show. Despite being more passive, book Crowley is not complacent; when they realize Warlock is not the antichrist, he and Aziraphale make efforts to find the real one. But when their initial search runs dry and they both agree the best thing to do is to have each of their “networks of human agents” look for the boy, Crowley is willing to step back and wait. Either one of their agents will find the kid or something else will turn up; somehow it’ll all work out. Show Crowley can’t do that. He can be optimistic that things will somehow work out, but not if he’s not doing something to fix it. Except there’s nothing else he can do to solve this problem, and when he can’t solve a problem his default is to instead save Aziraphale. The world is going to go up in flames, so Alpha Centauri it is then.

And now the one everyone loves to talk about: the bookshop fire. “Aha!” you said twenty minutes ago and then patiently waited for my rambling to get back to this point. “Aha! There is a flaw in your logic; after the bookshop fire it is book Crowley that copes by getting up and saving things, whereas show Crowley gets drunk and has an emotional breakdown.” But what you didn’t realize, gentle reader, is I already solved that problem weeks ago (this meta took a lot longer to write up than I was expecting). In fact, it’s not a problem at all, but further proof of these dynamics. Because after the bookshop fire, Aziraphale is gone. Aziraphale is gone, which means Crowley’s normal coping strategies don’t work. Book Crowley can’t have a breakdown about Aziraphale being gone precisely because Aziraphale is gone; he’s lost his safe space. So instead he just has to keep pushing forward and he’ll figure out how to deal with the rest of it later. Meanwhile show Crowley can’t save Aziraphale if Aziraphale is dead, and lacking that distraction, he has a breakdown.

Now that I’ve gone on for an obscenely long time about the different dynamics of book Crowley the protected vs. show Crowley the protector, I’m going to say that the specifics of how they are different aren’t ultimately that important. At least not in comparison to the way in which they’re the same. Despite how very different Heavens (and in theory a very different Hells could have a similar sort of impact) changed the details of their relationship dynamics, in both the book and the show, Crowley leans on Aziraphale for emotional support to deal with trauma. (As a side note, I don’t want to imply that this is a one-way relationship. Aziraphale also receives emotional support from Crowley; I’m just not touching on that now because I have to draw the line somewhere.) And that emotional support is a key factor in what makes Crowley different from other demons.

Obviously, we can see how being stuck in Hell would have made Crowley a worse person – though I use the word worse lightly here, as I think it’s very likely that rather than getting meaner for being stuck in Hell, Crowley would develop a learned helplessness. But even if Crowley was on Earth, being on Earth without that emotional support would have eventually had a huge negative impact on him and his attitudes and behavior. Because seeing humans being cruel to each other hurts him, and with no way to process that hurt, it would keep building up until eventually he would have to retreat into apathy to protect himself. But where the apathy of a Hell-residing Crowley would be underpinned by a sense of hopelessness because cruelty from demons is just what he expects, the apathy of an Earth-residing Crowley would have underneath it a lot of anger and betrayal. He did expect better of them, and they let him down time and time again until he stopped seeing the good in them. This betrayal-fueled apathy is the recipe for getting a Crowley that presents as a stereotypical demon, selfish and cruel.

And now finally we reach the point. All of this, all 3767 words of it (well, most of it) was all just context building up to this question: what the fuck did Heaven and Hell do to Crowley and Aziraphale in the 1992 script version?

[guccixstyless]

A Styles Imagine of Harry and yn on Spill your guts or fill your guts please also I LOVE YOUR WORK

Spill Or Fill Your Guts

A/N: Thank you soo much for loving my work, here’s your requested story, I hope you like it!! xx

Word Count: 1.21k words

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Masterlist

****************************************************

“Twenty minutes till you’re on, miss Y/L/N!” One of the Late Late Show intern informed you, you smiled at her nodding your head. You looked at yourself in the mirror and took a deep breathe. This still feels surreal.

You were promoting your third film, and then one fine day you got a call from Harry Styles. He asked if you’re up for being in James Cordon’s show that he was hosting. You readily agreed, since you had the biggest crush on Styles. You absolutely adored him, since his 1D days you were a dedicated fan of him.

That was a month ago, then one week before the show, Harry called you again, he asked if you would like to play Spill Or Fill Your Guts with him, you were hesitant at first then eventually agreed, I mean how hard the questions can be, right?

“Miss Y/L/N, if you’re ready then please kindly follow me, the set is ready,” the same intern came again to ask you that.

“Yes, I’m ready. Let’s do this!” You replied nervously.

You were lead towards a grey curtain, waiting for Harry to call you to make your entrance. Shortly afterwards, he announced your name and you smiled towards the audience who erupted with applauds, while waving at them you reached towards Harry and hugged him. It was the first time you saw him face to face, you were a bit late to the set so you didn’t get time to meet him before the show.

And God was he an epitome of perfection, with his hair styled in messy manner, to his jawline as sharp as the blade you were totally mesmerised, you couldn’t help but grin hugely seeing his dimple popping off.

You felt your hands get clammy, how can a person be this stunning?

“You look gorgeous love, are you ready to play Spill Or Fill Your Guts?” He asked.

“Bring it on Styles!” You replied chuckling.

“I like your confidence!” He said smiling.

He briefly explained the items that was displayed in the round table, then he opted to go first before choosing bird saliva for you.

“Give it a sniff!” He said with his cute accent.

You did and immediately regretted, scrunching up your face in disgust, this only made him laugh loudly accompanied by the audience.

“So, Y/N, your first question is,” he dramatically pulled out a question card and then smirked at you, “So this is your third film, rank your co-stars, Noah Centineo, Tom Holland and Nick Robinson from best to worst.”

You went nervous, there was no way you could rank them, they all became your good friends, but you also didn’t want to drink that disgusting thing.

You were weighing down your options then decided to just answer it, “okay, I’ll say, Tom, Nick then Noah, only because Noah always used to draw doodles on my face with markers whenever I tried to nap on set!“

"Oof, you got saved this time!”

“Now my turn, hmm I choose the bull’s penis,” you said laughing seeing him look terrified.

“So, Harry, which songs in your album are about Kendall Jenner?” You smirked.

He shaked his head hiding his face behind his hands.

He then took a fork digging into the thing, then again tried to answer, “uh- I’ll say track..ugh nevermind,” then munched on the item.

“Ooohhh,” everyone including you made a grunting noise.

“Okay,” he laughed then opted to give you the grasshoppers as your bext dare.

“Y/N, so you were a fan of 1D, is that correct?” He read the card aloud then looked at you, he looked impressed, you on the other hand knew where it was going.

“Oh God,” you mumbled bracing yourself.

“So who do you think is the least talented?” He finished his question with a chuckle.

There was no way in hell you were gonna answer that, you adored all five members so much.

“No one,” you answered.

“Sorry, too bad you have to answer one name!” He argued.

“Okay then,” you then ate the disgusting item, immediately afterwards you threw it in the bucket then gulped some water.

“You really loved 1D, huh?” He said laughing.

“I still do,” you smiled.

You chose the salmon smoothie for him, then asked the next question.

“Harry, who is your least favourite member of your current band?”

“Who makes these questions? Why are we even playing this game?” He said.

“It was your idea!” You laughed.

“God, why me,” he said drinking the smoothie.

Laughter erupted among the audience, he then asked you the final question.

“Okay, I’m giving you the beef tongue,” he stated, “so, in your opinion which movie do you think is overrated right now?”

“I-I have an answer but I don’t want to say it so,” you took a bite of the beef tongue.

“Jesus!”

You coughed and cleared you throat then chose cord sperm for Harry.

“God, how does they even arrange these stuff,” Harry said amusingly.

“Harry, who is the most annoying interviewer that you came across?” You read aloud laughing, you knew he won’t answer that.

“Why were my questions the hardest?” He pouted, then took a deep breath and took one piece of the cord sperm, he sniffed it then gagged.

“Disgusting!”

That was the end of the game, you then got a 30 minutes break to freshen up before moving onto the interview part, Harry will interview you and Mena Masoud.

Soon after the interview was over, it was time for packup, then you heard a knock at your dressing room.

“Yes?”

“Hi,” it was Harry.

You looked up at him then smiled, “What’s up?”

We were actually planning to get some drinks, just me, James, and a few more people from the crew. Would you like to join?” He asked expectedly.

“Yeah sure, why not?”

He smiled hugely, you got up and followed him. The drink arrangement was done at the main office’s rooftop.

You spent the whole night chatting with Harry, he was a funny guy.

After a few hours you were exhausted and wanted to call it a night.

“I can drive you home?” Harry offered.

“No, it’s okay, I can go by myself, I don’t want to disturb you” you smiled declining your offer.

“Nonsense, please? I insist.”

“Okay then,” you chuckled.

“Yayy, let’s leave then, shall we?”

“After you sir.”

You both bid goodbye to everyone then proceeded towards Harry’s car.

The car ride was fun as well, he played Fleetwood Mac, and you both had your own little carpool karoake, soon enough you reached your home.

He parked outside your apartment building.

“That’s my cue, thank you for the ride Harry!”

“My pleasure.”

“Goodnight then,” you said and as you were unbuckling your seat belt, he softly stopped you.

You looked at him in confusion, he then said, “um I had fun tonight, do you maybe wanna get lunch someday?” he asked shyly.

“Are you asking me out Harry?” you said teasingly.

“Uh yes?”

“I would love to go out with you,” you replied blushingly.

You both exchanged number quickly, promising you both will keep in touch.

It was an amazing night and you were excited to see how it works out with Harry.

[megamultifandomtrashposts]

Emma Swan x Reader - Hot

Requested by Anon - Would you be willing to write an Emma Swan/reader where they havent seen each other since they were in a foster home together, and emma see's reader as a party in storybrooke and is like "oh no she got hot"

Warnings - None I can think of

Note - I’m so sorry this is so short Anon, and I may have changed the prompt just a little bit, I hope that’s ok. And I don't know why I made this angsty

Remember you can send in requests!

“Come on (Y/N)!” A pre-teen Emma called, running down the street. “You gotta hurry up! They’ll catch us!”

“Emma!” A girl with a (H/C) ponytail called, darting after the other girl. “I’m not as fast as you!”

“Get back here you little brat!” An old voice growled as a hand clamped around the (S/C) wrist and yanked the (H/C) haired girl back.

“Emma!” (Y/N) shouted, reaching for the blonde. Emma turned her head, and her eyes widened. Emma paused for a second, before turning her head and running away. “EMMA!”

“Emma, are you ok?” Mary Margaret asked, placing a cup of coffee in front of her daughter. Emma blinked, shaking out of her daydream.

“Yeah, I’m ok.” Emma replied softly, wrapping her hands around the mug. 

“No, you’re not.” Mary Margaret slid into the barstool next to her. “I’m your mother, I know.”

Emma sighed. “I was just remembering something-someone from my past.”

“Wanna tell me about it?”

“When I was a kid, I had this friend.” Emma started to explain, looking into the dark liquid of her cup, “Well, she was more than a friend, we...we were a thing. One day, we decided to run away together, escape the hell of a foster home we were put with and create a life for ourselves. But...I was a coward. She got caught, I didn't, and I didn't go back for her.”

“Maybe...you can go find her again.” Mary Margaret suggested, “Your good at that, right?”

“Yeah.” Emma took a large drink from her mug. “Maybe I can say sorry.”

Emma strolled down Main Street, her hands shoved in her pockets. She scanned the storefronts until she spotted one that she hadn't seen before which caused her to stop. It was a little shop, on the corner of Main Street. The architecture seemed to be French, but pristine white with flowers in the window. In elaborate gold writing, the top window displayed the shop name, ‘La Crème Du Chat.’ 

“Ma chérie, would you mind putting the sign out the front.” A voce sounded from the inside, with a noticeable french accent,

“Oui Mère.” Another responded. The door opened, and the little jingle of the bell inside echoed through the street. A woman emerged, with her (H/L), (H/C) hair brushed, and being held out of her eyes by an elaborate broach. She wore fitting jeans, and a white blouse. Her feet were bare, as if she had just woken up not too long ago.

“Holy crap…” Emma breathed. Her mind finished the rest of the sentence, She got hot... The woman’s (E/C) eyes scanned the street before landing on Emma. (Y/N) glared at her, straightening her back and walking back into the shop. Emma hurried in after her, the bell chiming overhead. (Y/N) was straightening some boxes at the back of the counter, as two men stepped into the room. Both were dressed to the nines, in neat slacks and dress shirts. 

“Frères, can you get the stage ready?” (Y/N) asked, turning to them, “The shop opens in a bit.” The men nodded and shuffled over to the piano in the corner. 

“Hey…(Y/N)...” Emma greeted. 

“What do you want, Emma?” (Y/N) demanded, not even sparing the blonde a glance as she returned to straightening the tea boxes behind the counter. 

“I...I didn't know you were in Storybrooke.”

“Yeah, well, it's been almost sixteen years, a lot can change in a person.”

“All this Magic and...Fairy Tales must be a shock to you.”

“Not really.” (Y/N) turned to Emma, “I was born in the Enchanted Forest, Magic isn't a strange concept to me.”

“You...wow...what’s your story?” 

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, giving a mocking bow, “Marie Bonfamille, your majesty.” She replied sarcastically. “The ones cleaning up the stage are Berlioz and Toulouse, but here in Storybrooke their names are Noah and William, Will for short.”

“Aren't those the name from-”

“The Aristocats, yes.”

“Ma chérie.” The accented voice from earlier called as it descended the stairs. An older woman, with blonde hair pinned into an elaborate knot, descended the stairs. Behind her, a rugged man with a beard and messy orange hair ambled after her. “Oh, Sheriff Swan, how lovely of you to drop by.”

“Ma’am.” Emma greeted softly.

“Emma, my Mother, Duchess, and my stepfather, Thomas.” (Y/N) reluctantly introduced gesturing to them. 

“Oh, Ma chérie, your father and I are going to pick up supplies for the shop, you’ll be ok to handle the work?”

“Oui Mère.” (Y/N) replied. Duchess smiled at her. 

“Au revoir mes chéris!” Duchess said as she exited the store.

“See ya’ kids.” Thomas called as he followed his wife out the door. 

“Now, you’ve come in here and disrupted us as we’re preparing to start for the day, Sherif.” (Y/N) said, “May you please leave.” 

Emma reluctantly turned and left the store, however, she was determined to return and win back the heart of her first True Love

Tags: @baked-bean-bekah​

[walkerwords]

“By Firelight” Rick Grimes x F!Reader

Word Count: 2143

Summary: After escaping Terminus, you and the other survivors are on the run. You are a bit of a loner, but Rick has had his eye on your for a bit. Though, you’ve been pushing him away because you don’t think you deserve him. One night on watch, you finally take that jump in the light of the fire.

Warning: None

Song I Wrote To: “Murder Song (5,4,3,2,1)” by AURORA

Note: This is just a short thing I wrote. It is loosely based on the Halsey song: I HATE EVERYBODY and includes some of the lyrics. I am currently workin in Bowman’s sister part II so look out for that. Okay, good night. also if there are typos im sorry im like half awake right now.

------ 

The group walked all day.

You kept ahead with Carl, who just walked with you and didn’t try to talk. Being on the run together for as long as you had, you didn’t need to have conversations, it was enough to just walk alongside each other as friends while keeping a look out for any threats.

You kept your weapon ready and whenever you came across the Dead, you would take them out. Abraham and Rosita were at the rear of the group, looking for stragglers that anyone missed and everyone in between was vigilant. It was a functioning system that had worked for the many months that you all had been traveling together. 

As day turned to night, You started to head back to the main group. Carl had gone back a few hours before to check on Judith and give Rick a break so you were scouting solo. You retraced your steps and found them easily enough. Approaching Rick, you lowered your weapon.

“There’s an old hunter’s shack just up ahead. Plenty of space for us to set up camp outside and get Judith inside in case she starts crying,” you told him, glancing at the giggling baby that Maggie now held. Rick nodded, looking you over.

“And its (Y/L/N) approved?” he asked with a slick smile on his face. You rolled your eyes. 

“Yes, plenty of vantage points and it backs up to a cliff not too far away so I can watch all the directions.”

“You should be watching the inside of your eyelids,” Rick said, giving you a look of concern. “You need sleep, (Y/N).”

“I slept last night,” you reminded him. 

“You work too hard,” he said, gesturing to the bloody spear you held that was soaked in Walker blood.

“Yeah, well, someone has to,” you said and turned away to lead the group to the camp for the night. 

You kept watch as Carl got Judith settled into the small shack, trying his best to keep her shielded from the elements. Around you, the rest of the group began setting up for the night. You caught Gabriel looking at you, but you ignored him. He knew you didn’t trust him. Hell, nobody really trusted the priest. There was just something about him that just pissed you off.

Daryl handled the firewood as always. He always came trudging back into camp with logs stacked high in his arms. They all had parts to play in their group and while you knew that Daryl was just as skilled in a fight as you were, he had been trying to take care of everyone lately. You figured it was to keep his mind off of Beth.  

As the night went on, Tara and Glenn made sure you had something to eat. You ate your portion in silence at the edge of the camp, keeping your ears open for threats in the surrounding trees. There had been a time where you weren’t as sharp and that had led to multiple deaths on your part even before you hooked up with Rick’s group at the prison.

You hadn’t seen the five Walkers and they had killed six of your people, tore them to shreds before your eyes. It had been Rick who had killed the last Walker and tried to convince you it wasn’t your fault, inviting you back to the prison, but you knew the truth: every death was on you.

At least, that’s what it felt like.

You leaned against a nearby tree, your back to the North that had the cliff. Unless the Dead could suddenly fly, nothing would be coming from that direction. Your knives were sheathed to your thighs and your spear lay next to you at the ready. Pulling the tie from your hair, you let your locks loose and scratched at your scalp. You really needed to wash your hair, it was starting to smell worse than the Dead. 

Sitting there, your mind started to wander, thinking of a conversation you had had with Noah the other day. 

Since the incident with the Governor and then at Terminus, you had started to become more reckless. Noah was concerned about you and what you were doing with your life.

You took on too many Walkers at once, barged into buildings without making noise first, and even threw yourself on top of a Walker to save Maggie who clearly didn’t need the help. Whenever someone tried to talk to you about your actions, you pushed them away. Noah said that it seemed like you hated everybody.

In truth, you hated yourself, not everybody. Because if you truly hated everybody, why did you stay and why were you always looking to make sure you weren’t alone? Why were you always looking for Rick?

Rick had always been there, watching you, making sure you were okay. It was always him. You knew that he looked out for you, but lately the two of you had grown closer. It was obvious to everyone. Michonne has even asked you if the two of you had been together at some point. There was a part of you that wished that was true and based on some of the looks Rick gave you, it seemed he wanted it to.

However, you were worried about becoming distracted, no matter how much you wanted the man. And if your own emotions and self guilt were threatening to overcome you, that wouldn’t help anyone. You had to be strong for your people and breaking down over your own fucked up problems would not help anyone. So you kept your eyes on your people and made sure they were safe.

As the fire slowly died down and people around you were snoring peacefully, you listened to the world around you, reading every sound like a word in a book. Analyzing the sharp sounds of a nearby bird or the way a branch snapped in a quick breeze. You could identify a threat and a harmless natural occurrence faster than anybody else, except maybe Daryl. It was why nobody argued with you when you kept watch. 

A sound to your right had your hand sliding to your thigh, but you let it drop when you realized who was approaching. Rick moved through the dark, nearly invisible, but his boots was what gave him away. As well as his smell which was a mixture of dirt, blood, and pine needles. He didn’t say anything as he sat down next to you, keeping his eyes forward. His fingers fiddled with a few pieces of dry grass.

“Judith okay?” You asked quietly in the darkness. Rick turned to look at you as his hands stilled. 

“She’s fine,” Rick said. “Carl is with her, Glenn and Maggie too.” 

“That’s good,” you said, letting out a breath. 

After a few more minutes of silence, Rick slowly moved his hand to where you had a grip on one of your weapons. You hadn’t even realized you had been holding onto it that tight.

Without a word, he gently loosened your fingers around the blade’s handle and let your hand fall to the ground. His hand lay next to yours, not wanting to intrude any further, but you did something that surprised him. You slowly laced your fingers between his, feeling the warmth of his palm in yours. 

Rick didn’t move or even question it, he just sat there, breathing in the moment. You sighed, letting your head fall back against the rough bark of the tree. Slowly, your thumb began rubbing small circles on the back of Rick’s hand. You could hear his breathing start to match yours as if you were in tandem. It was peaceful. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked after a moment of silence. 

“Nothing,” you whispered, keeping you eyes on the dying embers before you. 

“You may not think I notice when you’re upset, but I do. I notice a lot more than you think.” Rick shuffled slightly closer, your shoulders now touching and your hand resting on his thigh. The tears came back at his words and he waited for you to speak. 

“I’m broken, Rick,” you began. He didn’t correct you or disagree, he just listened while holding your hand. “I’ve been keeping up this facade that I don’t care about anything and that I hate everyone around me, but it’s not me. It’s not true. I just can’t… I don’t know how to do this.” 

“Do what?” he asked gently. You looked at him as the tears flowed down your face. 

“Be alone.” 

“Who says you have to be?” he asked. “Why do you think that you need to be alone in all of this?” 

“It’s easier,” you admitted. 

“No, it’s not,” he whispered. “Blocking people out and going off your own is the opposite of easy. We need people, especially now. We need each other, (Y/N), We need you,” he paused and tightened his grip on your hand. “I need you.” 

You looked at him through your tears, tilting your head as you always did when you were thinking. “Why?” you whispered. He knew what you were asking without having you explain. 

“Because you smell of lavender and you like bad country music and hate when people walk slow,” he said with a small smile. “Because you call me out on my bullshit and you keep us safe. (Y/N), you are not broken, you’re the one thing that is keeping us together, keeping me together. You say you hate everybody, but maybe you don’t. Maybe you just haven’t found the right somebody.” Rick let his words sink in. He watched your face the best he could in the low light of the moon. You were thinking over everything he said and he was glad that you weren’t running.

Then, you took back your hand. Rick sighed, figuring you were going to tell him to stay out of you business and stalk off, but that wasn’t what you did at all.

Taking the hand that was holding his, you moved it to the side of his face. The beard on his chin and cheeks scratched at your palms as you placed your other hand on his other cheek. You searched his blue eyes, looking for anything that resembled a lie, but you couldn’t see one. 

“I’m always trying to make a memory out of a feeling,” you whispered. 

“What do you feel right now?” he asked, very aware that your faces were moving closer. 

“Not alone,” you said after a moment of silence. Rick rested his forehead against yours, feeling your breath against his face. 

“Then I hope you remember this,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Rick placed his hands around your waist, pulling you closer and waited for you to push him away. When you didn’t, he nudged your chin up with his own and pressed his nose against yours. You met him the rest of the way and pressed your lips against his. 

He kissed you in a slow but firm rhythm. Your hands threaded into his soft hair and his moved to cup the back of your neck and the small of your back to pull you even closer.

You sighed into his mouth and he relished in the feeling when your tongues met and you leaned into him. It wasn’t rushed or heated like the other times you had kissed men in your travels. You didn’t want it to be. You felt every firm touch of his fingers and the softness of his lips as he kissed you tenderly. There was no raging heat between you, just a loving warmth that surrounded you both. 

You pulled back to catch your breath, looking at him and he smiled. You matched his expression easily. He whispered something that sounded like your name and you pulled him back to you. Your kisses started to get more languid as you held onto each other. Rick’s hands smoothed down your back and ran along your scalp, creating shudders from you as you held onto him.

Seeing as you were out in the open and on watch, you didn’t take it further as much as you both wanted to. As your fatigue caught up to you, Rick adjusted his position, leaning back against the tree with his gun at the ready and maneuvered you so you lay against his chest. “Sleep, (Y/N),” he said, “I’ll keep watch.”

For the first time in a long time, you nodded and did as he said. You lay your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. You let out a deep breath and as you drifted off to sleep, his words from earlier echoed in her head. You thought you hated everybody, but hell, maybe you didn’t after all.

Note: this is strictly a one-shot. I dont see many rick x read stories and I love rick grimes so fucking much. If you know any good ones, please send them to me. Im desperate. 

[puckslibrary]

The Raven Cycle Review

Hello Hello! Doing something a little different today by doing a review of an entire series as opposed to a single book. The main reason for this just being that I was already more than halfway through the series when I started this blog and didnt feel like writing a review for the books I had already read. As with my CK review, I’m going to forgo the spoiler free review. If you haven’t read ALL of the books in this series, I recommend you do so before reading the rest of this review as this will contain spoilers for the ENTIRE series.

//SPOILER REVIEW (for entire series)//

Maggie Stiefvater’s writing is so...weird. In the best way possible. This series revolves around psychics, ley lines, and anything supernatural and her writing just perfectly fits that “vibe.” I often found myself caught off guard with just the strange way she would word things or include foreshadowing that felt significant but unusual at the time.I LOVED how everything in this series came full circle, along with the repeating theme that there is no one main character. The characters themselves were my favorite things about this series (aside from Stiefvater’s writing), and I want to talk about them individually. Blue is abosulutely iconic and I loved reading about an unapologetic feminist/environmentalist who’s stubborn, tempermental, and weird. Plus I believe she and I are the same height, so that made me irrationally happy. Gansey is by far my favorite. Interestingly, he’s the character I related to the most. I'm sure it has to do with the fact that he’s a major dork, certified Mom Friend™, and because he’s constantly putting up a facade. Regardless, he’s a king in every humble sense of the word and I love him. I did not like Ronan at first. Which is brilliant on the authors part, because nobody likes Ronan at first. After book two, he quickly became my second favorite and I don't think I really need to explain why. I fell in love with him the same way Gansey and Adam did. I would’ve k i l l e d to see more bromance between him and Blue, because I’m obsessed with their friendship. Adam immediately and initially was my favorite, and my love for him didn't diminish, it's just that my love for the others grew. Aside from Gansey, he was the most relatable to me. He’s an incredibly unique character, and it would be VERY easy to see him as a villain, so the fact that he’s a hero who chooses to do good makes him so much more interesting. I love him and I love his relationship with Ronan. In fact, they are probably my favorite fictional gay couple. I’m so sorry Wesper Henry was another character that I didn't initially like, but he grew on me pretty quickly. The toga party? The Madonna t shirt? ICONIC. The idea of him, Gansey and Blue taking a gap year together just feels so right and makes me incredibly happy. And finally, Noah. Noah just makes my heart happy. He is one of the most adorable and pure characters I’ve ever read, and he deserved so much better. To say that I was shocked by the revelation that it was him that whispered to young Ganesey is an understatement. He truly is the one that causes everything in this story to connect, and I would honestly die for him.

That’s it for today, I’m now realizing that the entirety of this review was just me being unable to shut up about my love for literally all of the characters and I regret nothing so whoops. If you enjoyed please like, comment, reblog, follow, etc. Until next week, stay classy and have a great day! :)

[rightnowyoucanttell]

𝘼𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝘼𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣, 𝙉𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 || .G.D.

(This songs an oldie, but It popped up on my random artist playlist, and I was inspired. Haha, enjoy ig..)

Title: Alone Again, Naturally 

Summary: Veronica Chandler seems to be only destined for heartbreak. After a failed attempt to rebound on her toxic ex, she makes a routine trip to her local 24 hour Starbucks, in which she meets a handsome stranger.. and oh,  who happens to be the spitting image to the photo of the tinder date who stood her up....

Relationship: Grayson Dolan and Veronica Chandler

Word Count: 2,034

Tags (*updated*) : @dzoint ​ @graysavant @blindedbythelightt ​ @tadadolan @heartofalionxo  @beatement-l   @grayswhore @tattoogray ​@saggitariusagirl

Author’s note: First, this is total shit, i’m sorry. Second, I  did the stupidest thing of all time. I gave my OC the same name as the main character in the novel i’m writing on wattpad (to self plug, or not to self plug that is the question; i’ll take self plug for 100, Alex) why am i so stupid? Well, i'm too lazy to change it so. 

Third, i was inspired when the twins talked about dating apps and just like idk where this came from, must be out of my ass because it’s shit. 

I actually laughed at that...

Fourth, feedback is like the most important thing to me, like ever? So, feel free to lmk what y’all think, if this becomes a series I will be taking concepts. 

Veronica Chandler is destined for great things. Planning her future, modeling and working as a struggling actress, she could go off and marry some lawyer. But, the only thing she did seem destined for was heartbreak.

Ronnie knew it had been too soon. Not even a month ago she had broken up with her ex, Jonathan. She also knew this, when she was attracted to a man on tinder with the same name, mostly because of the name. She wasn’t over the man who man who ruined her life to all hell. But, the comfort of a relationship was all she needed and desperately strived for.

Jonathan, was an artist, mad at the world needing to find himself. So, each night he did just so. Jonathan would go out to ‘find himself’ and along the way he found, Roxanne, Malibu, Dianne and Eileen. Jonathan drank, and he would physically and mentally abuse a good strong woman, who for the longest time couldn’t bring herself to walk out of his life.

Each time, from the first to the third she was too lonely, desperate and down on herself to let him loose. But, after he cheated on her with a married forty-year-old woman with four children, that was when Mama Chandler intervened and scared him half to fucking hell. That woman raised no fool, and if she did it was Veronica’s older brother, Noah.  Veronica was just a sad young woman who couldn’t keep a man because they used her.

This night in particular was her rebound date at a local vegan restaurant. A fancy one. With velvet rugs, chandeliers, expensive wines, however with decently sized portions. Veronica stood outside waiting for Jonathan. Who was described in his photo as muscular, a builder with brown hair and eyes and often in there messages boasted about such muscularity.

It was dark. He planned to meet her at 5:30. It was 7:30. Groups passed her. Parties on the street began talking, while the mannequins in store fronts slept under the lights. But, Ronnie was sure, this guy was genuine, and would be the best rebound. 

But, her plans and dreams were foiled when 8:30 hit, she decided to leave embarrassed and ashamed she thought it would turn out differently, she should have known. Her mosquito allergy becoming aggravated just as much as her. She sulked. She never really dressed to impress others, she wore heels, a leather jacket paired with a silk revealing top and boot cuts black jeans. That’s when the heaven on earth shone down upon her, a burning bush of sorts.

           A 24 hour starbucks.

As she walked down the sidewalk slowly, she was tired of being let down; tired of catering to the whims of others, ready to return home and make a stray of financially irresponsible choices online, she entered through the glass doors and into the small shop in Hollywood. The cool yet humid summer air from outside was left behind in the warmth of the shop, that’s when she saw him.

A tall handsome stranger, brown hair and eyes, with muscular arms. She fell for him immediately, he was gorgeous. But, then. Veronica realized something, the same man, the handsome stranger, was either the same person or a bicep by bicep replica of the man she was supposed to meet tonight, at that Vegan restaurant.

The fire fueled deep down, but she ignored it when she got in line to the left of him ready for her Pink Drink and croissant so she could run to the nearest Ralph’s and purchase two tubs of strawberry ice cream, she’d be needing it. The line shifted. She shifted on her feet, he did the same.

Veronica tapped her foot. That’s when the stranger started talking,”Whoah. Slow down there ‘Miss i’m on a mission’.”

His voice was deep and hoarse, he sounded like he had been having a night himself. Veronica ignored the voice that in some ways drew her closer.

“I’m Grayson, By the way..” the named stranger drifted. That’s when Veronica snapped. The man was Jonathan or she thought, and he was ignorant enough to poach the woman he stood up, again, she thought.

“How can you be so arrogant and glib, after everything you’ve done?” Veronica whipped her head to the right of him snapping out of anger and then with no response

“Ah, she’s brave. Calling me arrogant and glib, without even knowing me, cool.” Grayson scoffed and nodded, shrugging it off, and moving forward in the line before stopping yet again.

Ronnie tapped her foot miserable an angry…”Without knowing you? I know you. Your the kind of guy who’s shows up a girl, and breaks the rules because you think it’s cute.”

“Do You think it’s cute?” He lanced over to her smirking a devilish smirk. She scoffed and crossed her arms with her jacket draped over one of them, shaking her head as the crazily long late night line, shifted forward. ‘Grayson’ may have won the battle by showing her up, but his blatant lies would lose the war to Veronica.

“Spare me your routine, i assume that’s what this” she gestured to Grayson,”-cut it out okay? Or, i’ll make your life a living hell.”

“Sorry, not into a relationship at the moment,” he joked before turning back to face the options board, even though his order was almost always the same. Ronnie rolled her eyes. Ronnie's eyes were tired. She felt physically ready whoop this man;s ass, but mentally and emotionally drained.

“And, by the way. No. I do not think it’s fucking cute..” Veronica replied after a few moments of silence. Veronica mumbled cruising, barely audible to Grayson. Veronica was so confused, and so irritated, she didn’t no what to believe. She sighed and went for her phone fumbling for her back pocket, and opening the tinder profile of ‘Jonathan’, “Explain this.”

The screen illuminated a photo of Grayson with the name Jonathan below it. He had still had long hair at this point, right before it’s annoyance shaggy length.Grayson was shirtless in the photo with a chain necklace around his neck. Grayson squinted to examine the photo on the app and chuckled as he passed it back to Veronica.

“You, my dear, got catfished. By someone posing to be, yours truly. I’ve never had tinder and haven’t used a dating app since I was like, fourteen..” Veronica rolled her eyes at his comment before scrunching her brows in confusion but not enough to continue to pry,”..don’t believe me? Search ‘Grayson Dolan’ on instagram or twitter, you’ll owe me an apology.” Grayson snapped as hurt in reply and turned away from the fabric keeping a distance between the two. 

  Grayson felt for Veronica, he could hear the pain in her silence, the sadness in her eyes, the facade of a mask she put on,  even if he didn’t know her name, like her he had been pining for love. The same night he had been dumped via text by his ex girlfriend, also his ghost of days of business past, ex- assistant, before Sterling. He should have known it was a mistake, and Ethan warned him several times, but  much like Veronica with OG Jonathan, he blamed love for his feelings. 

Grayson was tired, wanting to head home with a cup of joe, but this unidentified juliet, across from him caught his eye, and there was no turning back. 

The line shifted. Hesitantly she opened instagram and search the name and she stopped, in her tracks. She owed this man apology, Grayson Dolan, he was a real guy, with a huge following however she never heard of him. She followed him, sighed and put her phone back into her pocket.And yes, he was good looking, she fell for the looks a little more than the name.

“..i--i’m sorry. Guess you were right, I was wrong..” Veronica managed to croak out. Grayson’s phone notified him from his pocket, he checked it smirked, followed her back and placed it back into his pocket.

Grayson looked over to the brunette Brazilian to the right of him. She tapped her foot nervously, as she picked her brain for a better apology. She felt herself loosen, knowing he was just trying to help, and didn’t stood up. Her demeanor changes, this man was a kind stranger who just happened to be the man in the photos she was catfished with, the real Grayson did nothing wrong.

“-., so this Jonathan, what happened?” He asked looking into her dark brown eyes, meaning it. Wanting to know everything about the stranger that made him want to know here. She laughed flashing a smile all the while. Her laugh, Grayson thought. The way she talked and laughed, when she was enjoying herself, it was all so lyrical, it made him want to laugh.

He looked at Veronica, like, really looked at her. The way the lighting reflected on her sparkly eyeshadow. Her dark green eyes, her long luscious and free riding dark brown hair, that had been straightened from its naturally curly form.

“..Well, I uh, met him on Tinder and he stood me up. I just got out of a nast relationship and he was my rebound, but he’s probably some weird guy living in his mother's basement-” she sighed opening up to him. She smiled at her own comedic relief comment. Hiding behind humour was something she did.

Grayson laughed, becoming serious,”I’m sorry, that sucks. What about your ex?”he pried further, there were only three people in front of them, all by themselves, swarmed by the world living in their phones.

“He was a cheater, a drinker and beater, who just so also happened to be named Jonathan..” the negative memories stirred up again in front of her. The pain on her shoulder came back, so did the reminiscence, drawing and pulling her into a melancholy flashback. 

                                                    ~~~

"Where would you like me to go, hmm? Ronnie!" he shoved her to the ground and she fell backwards dislocating her shoulder. She winced in pain, it had pulsated throughout her body. She knew she had to do this, for herself, the well being of herself for once. Did she want to? No. It scared her. He scared her.

Once he got the clout he wanted he changed, he was living off of her earnings, living in her apartment at the time, using her car, and she was forced to nod and smile along with it like some big ugly joke of a play. 

"How about for starters-" she managed between heavy sobs of pain and trying to prop herself against the reclining part of the sofa she was thrown in front of,"..hell? Take your toothbrush and your shave kit, and try some bleach in your cereal, i'm done. Okay? Go away, J!"

                                                            ~~~

Ronnie was back to reality when she heard Gray's voice,"..Safe to assume you have a type, then?"he asked really looking at the beautiful woman in front of his eyes.

 “Yeah. I try so hard but,”Veronica felt sad,” but, i’m never the one.” she felt even sadder memories of her ex flashing before her, she shrugged it off and continued,”…alone again, naturally, I guess.”

Grayson and Veronica were now the first in line,”Hey, let me buy your drink. Maybe we could be alone again, together…” Veronica smiled, and nodded.

“I’d like that..”

                       ~~~   

Later that night the two walked into the humid, yet comfortingly cool, heat together side by side after a two-hour conversation just on life.

“I, uh, better walk to my car.” Veronica said in front of Grayson’s porsche. Her jacket was around her shoulders and covered her arms,”I had fun, tonight” she held out a starbucks napkin she secretly wrote her number on, the wind tossed it gently back and forward. He smiled and breathed out a friendly, good night. He hated to see her go so soon, but would love to watch her leave.

“Wait, I never got your name-”he hollered down into the cold night on the streets of Los Angeles. Veronica turned around and continued walking backwards, her hair following and tracing her every move.

“It’s Veronica.” she breathed before giving him one last look with her deep green eyes and turning back down the sidewalk, heading to her car and driving into the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Should I make this a series? If so, what to name it, i’m thinking lyrical and each chapter is a song name? lmk. 

AHH i'm nervous to post this, but fuck it, right? No day but today. 

i’ll stop. 

[cryinginthebackseat]

ɪ ʙᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀɴᴄᴇꜰʟᴏᴏʀ

Fandom: It Lives In The Woods 

Pairing: MC x Noah, MC x Connor

Words: 3.134

Summary: She rolled her eyes. "You heard me the first time, Marshall. Pretty please? Come on, consider this as our way to celebrate Redfield's defeat!"

Jesus, since when did he celebrate something in general? And now to dance? Amongst the crowd and with her no less? Noah's head said hard no, he already had a myriad of thoughts in his mind right now, he couldn't afford getting distracted and when there were feelings in the way, he feared if he couldn't trust himself to keep his emotion in check.

Yet his heart said otherwise. This was Zoey, Noah could never deny her. He would never deny her anything, especially when this could be their last moment on good terms together.

Warnings: nothing much, just swearing and some sexual tension

Author’s note: this headcanon is purely the brainchild of the amazing @noahmrshall where she requested me to write it down for her. after 84 years and a pandemic later, finally, frickking finally I manage to finish it LMAO I’M SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG, GIRL. 

Anyway, make sure you tune in to feel real by deptford goth while reading, cause this is the song these are dancing to. And for those who haven’t read my first Noah x MC story, you can find it here on my main blog. Finally you know the drill, if you’re digging it or simply detest it, let me know, yeah? thanks!

Mamihlapinatapei (n.)   the wordless, yet meaningful look shared by two people who both desire to initiate something but are both reluctant to start

Prom was a montage of lipstick stains on paper cups, rap music with devastating bass drops, multicolored balloons at everyone’s feet, and the strobe lights that flickered above, turning the entirety of the gym into a one flashy, neon show.

And then there was Noah, the reluctant cinematographer of this pandemonium of pubescents making rounds on the dancefloor, buzzing in excitement while he resided in the corner, sulking, contemplating, a punch in his hand-- spiked, courtesy of King Kang himself in which he’d passed the cup at Noah earlier.

Noah didn't have any idea just how many types of liquor he'd mixed into the beverage, nor did he have the capacity to ask. He simply drank in the corner, restless, alone, hand fidgeting with his jacket and beanie. He thought with the alcohol in his system, it would be enough to make him feel better, lighter. Made him forget, god forgive him, for the atrocities he was about to commit to the ones he called friends.

Friends who'd abandoned him in his time of needs, friends who barely recognised him, friends who made him laugh at one of their antics, friends who gave him an apron for his 18th birthda--

Wait. Noah shook his head, conflicted, internally berating himself. No, no, no, there should be no room for pity for them. Jane was his number one priority here, not… Not them. 

And especially not Zoey.

His internal conflict somehow was aggravated when he saw a speck of galaxy's dust of hair on the dancefloor, twirling, cavorting, in the arms of another.  Zoey. Her face painfully close to his, lips hovering over Connor's cupid's bow, not quite kissing him, but enough for Noah to look the other way. Suddenly, the bottom of the half-emptied cup seemed a lot more interesting.

He had no right to feel what he felt. He knew that. Especially considering how he was about to turn her whole life upside down. But feelings are feelings, it could creep up to anyone at any time, any place. It was beyond anyone's control. 

And seeing her with Connor like this, laughing and dancing and kissing like fools in love they were, made his insides twist. Jealousy contributed a lot for the matter, obviously, but what hurt the most was because he knew that in all of his jadedness, hopelessness, miserable at the age of eighteen he could never give all of those to her. Zoey deserved someone who’d sit and sing to her about the stars, whom she could turn to when the chips were down, she deserved the world. 

And the world was something he was about to take from her.

Jesus, could things just be fucking simple for once? 

Zoey and Connor only parted once the song was finished. He kissed her cheek, a privilege that he was lucky enough to obtain and made a beeline out of the gym for a call. Leaving her alone, silver-haired amidst the sea of browns and blondes.

She craned her head to the side, her gaze finding Noah's across the room and smiled that smile of hers that lit up her entire face.  

When Zoey made her way towards his position, Noah immediately straightened his posture, feigning nonchalance as if he hadn't been spending the last minutes yearning for her lips, her touch, her attention and his betrayal to her simultaneously.

“Enjoying the party, Kelmeckis?” Zoey sidled up to him, snatched the cup from his hand and sipped. Which floored Noah at how casually she handled her alcohol. 

“No.” Noah eyed her confusedly then. “And Kelmeckis?”

“You know, Charlie Kelmeckis?” Noah gave her a look as if “who the fuck???” to which she simply groaned. “From the Perks of Being A Wallflower?” 

“Jesus, Uttley, only you would throw a pop culture reference at someone as a greeting.”

“And only  you  would be the only one who don’t get it,” she countered, and then she laughed, matching his own. 

He regarded her for what if felt like the first time tonight and thought to himself how lucky Connor was to have her.

"You, uh..." You look beautiful, it hurts my feelings. "You clean up nice, by the way."

Zoey looked at him oddly. "Damn, Marshall, did this come from?"

He shrugged. "I'd say the punch, but I guess 'cause I've never seen you in a dress since we were eight, so, yeah…" Tell her the truth, said the alcohol. Stop this fucking nonsense now, said the better parts of his head. "Yeah…" 

He thought he saw her cheeks blushed, but wasn't sure given to the lighting. "Thanks, Noah."

His eyes found hers, hers found his. For a long moment, it was as if they were going to initiate something. Anything.

She was the first to look away and blinked, as if she had just looked at the sun for too long and now she was seeing double vision. Noah also tore his gaze from her, finding himself, unsurprisingly, unfortunately, disappointed. 

“I thought you'd left. Or worse, on your sixteenth cigarette of the hour or something," she broke the silence first, eyes still not meeting his.

Noah squinted at her, mouth crooked. "So smoking is worse than leaving, huh?"

"Hell yeah. I don't want you to get lung cancer by 40-"

"Live fast, die young, Z," he interrupted, a sarcastic, lazy drawl to his voice that made Zoey shoot him a withering look.

"Not on my watch, Marshall. And I absolutely won't let those cancer sticks turn your mouth into," Zoey gesticulated, shrugging altogether. "An oral ashtray or something."

Noah chuckled, again-- God, it was so easy to laugh when she was around-- mid-eye-roll, his hand rifling through his blazer pocket for a pack of mint. Took one out and raised it to his mouth. 

"That's what these mints are for."

With a small shake of her head, Zoey muttered, "Bastard." Though not without a great deal of kindness. 

Ah, shit, he was going to miss this, bantering with her, laughing along with her-- just being around her in general. The thought rendered a profound pang in his heart, and he hadn’t got the chance to say he l--

No, his head said, internally berating himself. The moment had passed now. Zoey had Connor, someone who loved her unconditionally. His prime focus should be on what other scenarios should he reside so that his friends would follow him to the ruins? Or what should he do once Andy realized his phone was missing? So many things he should be ruminating, yet  Zoey  was where his head begged him to refer to.

Noah didn’t realize the smile on his face dropped into a frown until it was too late, until Zoey’s own also disappeared.

"Hey?" her voice so soft it could have been a caress for all he knew, taking a step closer. "You okay?" She asked, concern etched in that ocean eyes of hers. 

“What? Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” Was his answer, but he tore his gaze away from her, the red balloon near his foot seemed like the only haven that could ward her off from delving into his soul.

Zoey cocked her head to the side, as if unconvinced. “You sure? Noah, you know you can tell me anything.”

I know. But not this.

“I know. I’m… I guess I'm still kinda tired from what happened. That’s all,” he lied, and it felt like he was slowly slicing his own heart. 

“Hey.” Zoey stepped closer, craning her neck to see him due to their heights. Her hands on his arms, comforting. “It's over now, Noah. We defeated him and kicked his ghostly ass back where he came from. We did that.  You  did that- against all odds. I know it's bound to leave some scars, but I want you to remember that from now on, you don’t have to shoulder all of the world by yourself anymore. Do you hear me?” she asked again, more insistent this time. "I'm  not  going anywhere. The others aren't going anywhere either. We're all here for you, for better or worse."

Noah sighed, and made the mistake of looking into her eyes. All the while holding onto whatever strength he had to not to crumble completely before her and cry as he scrambled for a response.

I can’t do it, I can’t do it, I can’t do it, I can’t do it, I can’t do it, I can’t do it.

“I...” he stuttered, his voice tight.

God, I can’t hurt her. Not her.

“Zoey, there's something I-"

But the DJ suddenly began to play a different tune, interrupting him whereas her whole face lit up.

"Oh my god, I love this song!"

Noah frowned, whatever he wanted to say to her, forgotten. "Never heard of it."

"That's because you never care to broaden your taste, doofus! You're missing out a lot." Zoey laughed. She offered her hands to him. "Dance with me?" She asked, her eyes glowed hopeful.

Noah looked at her as if she'd grown a second head. "What?"

She rolled her eyes. "You heard me the first time, Marshall. Pretty please? Come on, consider this as our way to celebrate Redfield's defeat!" 

Jesus, since when did he celebrate something in general? And now to dance? Amongst the crowd and with her no less? Noah's head said hard no, he already had a myriad of thoughts in his mind right now, he couldn't afford getting distracted and when there were feelings in the way, he feared if he couldn't trust himself to keep his emotion in check. 

Yet his heart said otherwise. This was Zoey, Noah could never deny her. He would never deny her anything, especially when this could be their last moment on good terms together.

He accepted her hand. She grinned, like a molten California's sunset and tugged on his hand, soft against his callousness, dragging him towards the dancefloor.

Surreptitiously, Noah stole a glance at his phone when she was not looking.  9:47 pm. 13 minutes to 10. 13 minutes before Jane came barging in. 13 minutes before the final showdown. 

13 minutes left to bask in her presence.

The dance floor was jammed packed with some of his classmates, mind lost in the music. And Noah was nervous. 

As if she could tell, Zoey stepped toward him. On the dance floor, her gown shimmered like a glittering, silver moon and held his hands, giving them a comforting squeeze.

I'm here.

He squeezed back, I know. And felt his nervousness simmered.

Noah, tongue-tied, feet still rooted the ground, simply swallowed as he watched her before him, magnetising. He gulped, his cheeks flared when Zoey began to sway her hips lightly to the music. Her movements were innocent, but there was something in her eyes that commanded his attention. That girl had a flair in everything she did, alright, dancing being no exception.

"You sure you don't want to wait for Connor for this?" He asked over the music, making sure, eyes darting back and forth just in case Connor came back. 

"Nah. He probably won't come back for the next 10 minutes and I'm not going to miss this song just to wait for him," she exclaimed back, flashed her widest set of a smirk. "Come on, bust out some moves, man!"

"I'd embarrassed you," he pointed out. "I'll look worse than Shepard from Mass Effect, I'm telling you."

"I wouldn't laugh." But she was smiling when she said that. "I promise! And do you think anyone would notice even if you move like a feral ghoul? And in this crowd?"

That made Noah laugh, reconsidering.

"Don't think about them," she said in his ear as she could still sense his hesitation. "But most of all, don't think when you dance, Noah. Just let the music flow through you."

"I don't think I know how."

"Let me show you," she told him, sing-song. 

Feel real Now Forever meant nothing when we had nothing

As the music picked up its beat, so did Zoey's moves. Guiding them to the rhythm of the music, prompting him to mirror her, to let loose. He followed his instincts and began to actually dance, albeit still stiffly, but making sure to move in time with her. His pulse was racing, being so close to her for the first time. Sweat began to form on his forehead from heat, both from the crowd and their proximity.

The way she moved her hips, the way the music pulsing through his veins blurred everything; what was wrong and right, what was his and what's not as he gradually began to give in to the music, to the feeling. In hindsight, he'd like to think it had been the alcohol that drove him but he knew it wasn't true. He just needed an excuse for all of this.

As if moving in autopilot, Noah twirled her around. Earning her a laugh as she did so, the edges of her silver hair fluttering like a halo. She then pressed her back against his chest. His arms immediately snaked their way around her waist before he could stop himself. Pulling her closer until there was no distance between them. She leaned back into him, her head on his shoulder. 

Noah met her eyes. She met his back. 

Everything felt electric. Everything felt so wrong, yet the alarms were actually blaring like crazy sounded dim in his head, so he kept going.

The next thing he knew, Zoey spun around again to face him. Two hands reached up to wring her arms around his neck. Noah placed his hands on her waist, feeling the curve of her body for the very first time and he couldn't exactly make out what to feel right now.

A lover come back, I wanna dance like her, Like nobody's watching

The upswing of her warm breath against his cheek, her gaze kept on flickering between his eyes and lips, licking her lower lip. Noah's breath nearly stopped. Nearly toppled over at how intense they were; all-consuming, once again he felt her ocean eyes pulling him in, threatening to drown him. The muscle in his jaw clenched. 

The moment stretched. Zoey inched closer until their foreheads nearly touched, the tip of his nose brushed against hers. Noah searched her eyes, his calloused thumb dragging down Zoey's cheek, torn between closing the distance between them, to finally taste her lips after all these years- improprieties being the last damned thing on his mind- or to push her away and wonder if she felt the same. 

All too soon, the song ended. And all too soon, the spell broke.

As if someone had dumped a bucket of ice-cold water on his face, Noah shook himself back to reality. Realizing what they had done and almost done and took a wide step back from her like he had stabbed her or something, looking into her flushed face. Her eyes widened by a fraction, her mouth slightly ajar.

They only stared at each other, speechless, even as the DJ played a different tune. An unspeakable terror passed between them and a single question that circled around their heads like a vulture:

What in the sweet fuck just happened?

"Hey babe, sorry for making you wait." The two craned their heads to the side to see Connor approaching them, placing his phone back in his breast pocket and kissed her cheek. 

"The manager called, saying there's going to be new items coming in next week and he wants me to make the draft for the inventory list."

Once he realized she wasn't responding to his advance, he regarded her then Noah, wondering what on earth the two were doing that left the tension in the room.

"Is… everything okay?" Connor asked, creases appearing in his brows.

"Yeah." Zoey managed to say, shaking off of her trance and feigned a smile. But Connor didn’t seem convinced. "Yeah. We were just playing around-- I mean, we were playing-"

"Staring contest. On the dance floor" Noah nearly winced at how stupid it sounded. "It was her idea."

"Yeah, I saw a bunch of people do it on my IG feed and thought, why not? Though now that we did it, it does seem stupid, isn't it?"

"Yeah, probably, uh, shouldn't do that again." And bunched his pants between his fingers and wondered if Zoey caught the double meaning.  

"Took the words right off my mouth," she concurred with a chuckle, but it sounded forced. She even avoided his gaze when Noah tried to look at her, focusing her attention on the floor instead.

He wondered if Connor could pick up on that? Could sense there was more than between the eyes, but he chuckled instead, shaking his head kindly at his girlfriend's antics and kissed her cheek. Again.

Noah looked the other way, feeling his cheeks pink either from what had transpired or jealousy or embarrassment for god knows what or the combination of the three until he remembered the time. He checked his phone again. 5 minutes until 10. 

It was time.

He rubbed at the back of his neck and cleared his throat, noncommittal. "Yeah, I'm going to get out and smoke. Catch you guys later."

Noah pivoted around, shoved his hands into his pockets. He didn't smile, didn't even spare her a final glance. He felt her eyes on her, expectant, but how could one look at her again after what they'd almost done? How could he look at her again without thinking of her lips, her touch and knowing that not only he wouldn't be able to feel them, but she would never want to see him ever again? It was too much.

 "Noah?"

Noah turned at the sound of her voice. His heart broke a little seeing her, just within reach but a million light years away at the same time.

"Yeah?" And nearly winced at how hoarse he sounded. 

She was silent for a moment, conflict rose in her face. "See you later."

All too soon, Zoey and Connor made their way deeper into the belly of the dance floor. He stood there, his limbs felt heavy, as if there was a chain holding him down. 

Suddenly, he felt a nudge on his ribs. It was Ava. 

"So when are you going to tell her about it, loverboy?" She asked, an eyebrow migrated to her hairline. He should have known that even amid the crowd, someone must have noticed him and Zoey on the dance floor. 

Noah took a deep breath, his heart felt jagged. "Someday." 

Someday. But even he knew that was just another lie he told.

[measuringspoon2]

hello i know we’re all doing these

but here are my (finally collected) thoughts about man in glass part one

also, one (1) completely out of context, no-spoilers exchange between @ashellthatsang​ and i listening for the first time

okay, WOW. god BLESS kabert for giving us a high budget fanfiction for season 3

let’s start at the beginning. where the hell is the penumbra??? it sounds like the hotel, but it’s not very long, the music is slightly different, and there’s rain. i’m subscribing to the boat theory, personally

peter perspective

only one juno monologue (which we find out is not actually a monologue) makes me kind of sad. especially after my series relisten, hearing so much juno and especially so much juno growth.... i really love him and i miss hearing his thoughts. however, hearing peter? SO good. i suspect we’ll be sticking with peter throughout the season (though i’m not really sure) because, and especially in season 2, the heavy focus was on juno’s growth through juno’s perspective. the writers kept peter away until this was complete because he needed to confront trauma and learn to be good to his loved ones (see: his relationship with rita) before introducing that knot of distrust and betrayal. now, peter’s arc is going to be his trust issues, so surrounding him with one major source of said issues and with five other new people he is expected to rely on (which is why i expect the heavy emphasis was put on buddy’s buddy system). i think peter may even be more of a main character, however, i like the idea posited by several people that it’ll be rotating perspectives and it could go either way.

peter is obviously a super unreliable narrator. just as one example, he starts by saying he doesn’t bear juno ill will and then continues, throughout the episode, to display his total bitterness and hurt through callous #burns. another interesting thing about the peter primary perspective is his references to mag (and his emulation of mag’s voice), whom we’ve only seen through JUNO’S eyes. everything we know about mag and peter is basically secondhand. it’s deeply jarring as we delve into peter’s perspective to see many, many new layers to him that were unexpected and far different from the man we saw in season one.

also, is it just me, or is noah’s voice way deeper this time?????

juno and jupeter:

i MISSED juno. i know that i listened to the opening of the episode in the trailer, but hearing it for REAL made me tear up hardcore, especially as it was followed by the peter slap in the face.

juno. my favorite. i love him for choking on his coffee three (3) times. so much. i love his insistence on his conditions being upheld. i love him for wearing a dress and six inch heels and F L I R T I N G with probably one of the best minor characters ever. i love him for genuinely being super competent but like... not as a thief lmao, but like--he did do what peter told him to do, sorry peter u asked for this bud & also his voice breaking and getting incredibly indignant--sorry, “livid” per peter’s word--when juno is flirting with nova was..... perfect. absolutely perfect. thank you kabert for literally making my entire year

i was hoping for some sort of coldly professional, distant peter. now i am SO on board with this complete role reversal from train from nowhere--juno’s total mistrust in peter and reluctance to follow him or do anything he’s asked has been flipped on it’s head. “in our line of work, trust is not optional” comes to mind. now peter refuses to trust him. what i love even more is the thing that remained constant--the occasional moments of truce when they really ARE working together. peter giving juno a gun to shoot bad guys from the ruby 7 and the repoire they had there--”well DONE detective!” “yeah, it wasn’t half bad, was it? i don’t think engstrom’s goons liked it though!”--and this time things like juno describing nova’s disappearance and nureyev’s reluctant concession to it being spot on, or their agreement over how good nova’s new haircut looks. the bickering though--”and ohhh, but it shows” yes peter i totally believe that you bear juno no ill will--“because we’re both clearly distracted” “well maybe we wouldn’t be if one of us wasn’t so distract-ING” peter, you are the very picture of forgiveness 

crime family

interesting dynamics i am EXTREMELY excited to see: juno and vespa, MORE juno and rita (now with updated Healthiness!) buddy and juno (because i loved their different brands of quick wit matched together) actually seeing more buddy, juno, and jet, jet and rita (fuck yeah), rita and PETER, peter and jet..... yeah. yeah. so excited. 

hoping to see more buddy/vespa development and relationship honestly, and so happy to see buddy again because i adore her. buddy’s insistence on Crime Family versus peter’s violent desire to work Alone Alone Alone will be so much fun as it comes to head.

that’s all i got folks. i’ve listened to this episode four times and haven’t stopped thinking about it since over twelve hours ago.

[dbhilluminate]

DBHI: Equilibrium, ch. 13 - “Periapsis” (pt. 1)

Characters: Noah / “Erwin Yvonne”, Gabriel / “Vincent Sharp”, Special Agent Gavin Reed, Director Thomas Falken Word Count: 2,842

Noah crashes an undercover FBI operation to say hello to a friend he hasn't seen or spoken to in a couple of months, but the mood is spoiled when the Zionist Inquisition shows up to deliver an ultimatum to Vincent Sharp, and issue a threat to anyone who would dare support the installation of an android suburb in Washington, DC.

***For a glossary of world-building terms relating to this series and chapter, click here.

(Chapter Art by ozaya, Co-authored by @grayorca15​)

• Chapter Index • Characters • Glossary •

——

December 23rd, 2041 - 9:45 PM

From the outside, the looming auditorium locally known as The Mellon was unchanged. Whatever techno-aesthetics the Capitol had adopted in the last two decades, Washington, DC’s architecture was still mostly the same neoclassical Roman-inspired drivel the Founding Fathers probably thought the height of grandeur that any respectable city could model itself after. This particular building was very much a product of its time- a perfect encapsulation of the stiff right angles, thick brooding columns, and bleak texture-less walls, suggested nothing of what might actually be happening beyond the foyer. The red-green cutout projections of trees and reindeer and ornaments dancing across the Columbia pediment sculpted across its tented promenade and the delicate string instruments currently honoring an orchestral cover of one of a hundred classic Christmas songs was a hint though.

Noah stepped out of the Jaguar to be accosted by a shower of holographic white and blue snowflakes, mixed with the real-life equivalent wafting about that cold winter’s night. They swarmed like his very own plague of too-friendly gnats. Whatever property-wide projection program the event had been accentuated with, the programmer had evidently spent too much time re-watching Frozen as a child. He pulled his sunglasses down just far enough to peer over the lenses as a few flakes fluttered in, close enough for him to see their individual fractals, and gave an irritated huff through his nose. “Still bitter over the demise of Disney, I see.” A few seconds later, the shy valet swept around the roadster’s red taillights and apologized profusely for a near-nonexistent delay in offering to take the car to be parked. Noah felt nothing but amusement at their blathering, patted him on the shoulder and held the door open. “Quit fussing. It’s early yet, and you’ve a lot more rides to tuck in before the night’s over. Treat this one like the queen she is and there’ll be an extra fifty in it for you… Fredrick.”

The kitschy light-show and dear hapless Fred weren’t as bothersome as the front ranks of guards posted at the velvet rope-fenced entrance. The nearest man put up a hand and stopped him in his tracks at the top of the stairs. “I’m sorry, sir, but this is a charity function for contributors only. Have you made a donation?” It seemed only pre-approved guests were being permitted inside- a slight oversight on his part, but it wasn’t enough to keep him from his goal. He had a conversation to close out.

Noah popped his brows and donned a charming smile as he presented the falsified credentials, nestled in a flip-fold ID bearing the name Erwin L. Yvonne, complete with the most abhorrent manipulation of his likeness ever produced. “Not to worry, gents. I’m intimately acquainted with the curator, Mr. Sharp, and I’m here to deliver my contribution in the flesh.” Everything about the little white lie he’d spun on a whim was unnatural to him, but convincing to the two confused humans -poor, overworked and underpaid minions as they probably were- relaying questions into their headsets. After a few moments of conferring with whoever was heading security (most likely the Special Agents in charge of the sting this event was a front for), they motioned him through for a pat-down just beyond the rope. Noah didn’t bother feeling offended at them for only doing as they were instructed, but he did have a little fun making them as uncomfortable as possible as they searched his person for weapons. If his disguise, an old favorite thrown together on such short notice, held up to that much, then the rest would be a cakewalk- not that he had ever harbored a desire to actually go skipping through a fully-stocked dessert table. As fun as it sounded, he had enough messes splashed all over his real name without adding another to the list.

To his relief, the reach of the holographic snowflakes stopped at the door and vanished as he crossed the threshold of the foyer. The marble floor of the lobby had been buffed and waxed to a soft shine, and was still holding up to the foot traffic four hours after the meet’s commencement. Noah only paid enough mind to the guests still loitering about in groups no larger than six people to disinterestedly scan their faces at a glance and assign his background processes the menial task of matching names and dossiers to them. At the moment, he was far too focused on finding the one disguised face among them who was of any real importance to care about much else.

Mr. Vincent Sharp. Or should he say, Gabriel Reed.

The main hall was a wide, cavernous space, with rows of columns standing off to either side. Gold leaf sconced wall lamps provided an accentuating glow compared to the three giant chandeliers of brass and aluminum that bathed the room in ambient light. The dazzling light-show playing outdoors was only outdone by the splendor of one thirty-foot tall balsam fir erected in the center of the floor, adorned with no less than one hundred feet of multicolored string lights, dozens of strands of tinsel, swaths of garland, and a few hundred bauble ornaments. The topper, a white tinsel angel with glittery wings, faced the entrance with its hands pressed together and head bowed as if to thank all who arrived. A few outlying rings of cocktail tables surrounded the roped-off centerpiece. Those guests who weren’t conversing had taken seats to sip champagne or nibble on appetizers while they caught up on their gossip. Each cloth-covered table possessed its own small topper of a larger holographic projection of snowflakes hanging stationary in midair, which constantly shifted from one pattern to the next, spinning like a globe on a stand whenever a curious hand reached out to ‘tap’ them.

A small stage nestled in an alcove against the back of the ballroom hosted a classical band (ruled by one full-size concert piano) who looked as superfluous as the snowflakes that had greeted him outside. They wound through the last chorus of Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire as he descended the staircase, before starting back up with Jingle Bell Rock. Between the cello and violins, Noah’s hypersensitive ear detected at least three strings in need of tightening before he shunted that note aside to take a backseat with the rest of his anxieties. He hadn’t spent two hours biting his knuckles over ever approaching the Andrew W. Mellon Auditorium just to show up and critique its acoustic entertainment.

It wasn’t until a few curious eyes had turned his way, nodded and bid him good evening, that Noah realized how entirely inappropriate it was to be wearing sunglasses indoors, much less an event so high-class. The rest of his ensemble was tame enough- a dark navy blue suit bearing pointed lapels and a Zion sigil pin, complimented by a black dress shirt and loafers. The mild dose of glitter effect (same as could be found on the snow outside) projected into his black hair, accented with blue highlights, wasn’t as much of an affront as the pair of Ray Bans. Before anyone could make much of a fuss about it, he pulled them off and stashed the specs in his jacket’s breast pocket; in this kind of crowd, acting appropriate was of the utmost priority. Except when it wasn’t. Off to the left was a fully stocked pop-up bar- heads of the handful of people standing near it were turned away, giving off all manner of unapproachable vibes, including the only familiar silhouette in the room. Noah fought back a smirk when he spotted one particular set of ears before the facial recognition software even kicked in. As much as he would have loved to surprise him with his presence, he knew better than to sneak up on the owner of said ears. The last time he’d done so, Noah had wound up laid out over the fragments of his former coffee table, and he wasn’t eager to experience the cocktail hour equivalent of that encounter.

A half-hearted sweep of the room offered a few other suggestions of anything amiss, and that conclusion was about as dull as dishwater. Noah wasn’t really feeling making a scene with another guest (this event was far too classy for such delinquency), nor was he feeling at all confident enough to steal the mic off its stand and serenade the entire room. But that Christmas tree… it was giving off far too many signals to only be rigged with illumination accents. On his optical spectrum, a cloud of static encircled the poor displaced flora from top to bottom, a few of which were emitting from little lens-capped nodes disguised as burnt-out bulbs along the string. He drifted over casually and leaned in as if to admire his reflection in one of the gold metallic baubles, then carefully reached past the rope to twist and unplug one of the planted camera bulbs like plucking a petal off a flower. The fir gave only a whisper-quiet tink at this attack. The light strand continued to blink and cycle away, regardless of the missing piece. Noah held it up to eye level with a triumphant, yet mischievous grin. He knew exactly who was on the other side of the monitor observing the footage.

And having the most important discussion of the holiday season. On the other end of the feed, tucked away in the off-limits green rooms of the hall, Special Agent Reed was too busy engaging in one of his favorite pastimes of discussing classic action flicks with the unbaptized to notice that one of their cameras was moving. “I’m tellin’ you, man, Die Hard is THE Christmas movie, and if you don’t agree you’re just wrong .” “No way,” a second agent argued, “Bruce Willis himself denied that shit more than twenty years ago…” Reed let out a laugh that bordered on mocking, shook his head, and gestured to the man with one scolding finger lifted off his coffee cup. “John McClane would disagree-“ “Hey! Dumbasses! Stay focused!” Director Thomas Falken -who had insisted on overseeing the sting himself, in the event that something went horribly wrong - barked at the yapping men with a threatening leer that snapped Gavin’s head around and back into focus. On the feed of one of the bulb-cameras, an unrecognizable man rolled the glass node between his fingertips like a gem, and smirked as he held it up to the light. Reed’s brow furrowed in distress as he mumbled “What the fuck…?”, then swiped the walkie off the counter to relay the information. “Gabe.” “What is it, Reed?”

All done up in the swankest cocktail suit anyone would ever see him in, ‘Vincent Sharp’ turned, then leaned with his back against the bar and nursed a drink as he scanned the room through half-framed, squared-off, horn-rimmed glasses. One idle hand reached to throw back the hem of the tweed charcoal gray blazer, exposed the light brown waistcoat hugging his waist and hips, and slipped into the pocket of a pair of perfectly tailored, black slim-legged slacks. “We may have trouble, one of our spycams has been compromised.” Gabe tipped back his head and emptied the glass in his hand to smother the outward reaction of surprise, then set it down on the counter and gestured to the bartender for another. Rather than reach for any of the bottles displayed on the back counter, she went for a decanter on the shelf below the bar and refilled the glass with a burgundy brown liquid- thirium, distilled and dyed to mimic the appearance of Scotch. "Just one?” he asked in a curious tone as he searched the crowd around the tree. From his vantage point, he couldn’t clearly see anyone acting suspiciously. “Yeah, it’s the weirdest thing… little shit’s just holdin’ it up and grinnin’ like he knows we’re here…” And that he did. The harsh whisper to emanate over the commandeered camera’s mic said as much:

Good evening, Special Agent Reed. Fancy seeing you here.

From the other side of the room, Gabriel’s head turned a tic at the sound of crashing equipment and a few muttered ‘shit Shit, SHIT’s coming from the other end of the frequency he was currently tuned to. Like a bull in a china shop.

“How does he know you’re here… !?” Falken -known in his social circles as Tomahawk, for good reason- boomed from across the room as he rose from the couch and stormed over to the monitors. He shoved Reed’s chair aside, and scrutinized the face of the man making a mockery of their carefully planted monitoring equipment. Gavin’s heels scraped against the hardwood as he backpedaled and held his hands up in surrender. “I- I- I don’t… I don’t know, I didn’t tell anyone, I swear-” “Then who is THAT?” Falken punctuated with a slam of his palm against the monitor that made everyone in the room jump. “That’s… that’s, uh-...” He could explain that, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to. No matter how he looked at it, he was to blame for his presence that evening. His negligence had compromised months of careful planning.

“...Gavin?” His target rose from a table toward the front of the ballroom and directed his attention toward the bar, leering with the clear intent of starting a conversation. What impeccably bad timing for this to go down. “Reed! Talk to me!”

Gabriel’s intrusion provided him with the convenient excuse he needed to disengage for a moment. One visibly-shaking hand swiped the walkie off the desk and Gavin turned to break away from the glower of Falken’s death-glare long enough to respond to his partner in the field. The other hand ran through his hair with a nervous twitch in his fingers and he glanced over his shoulder as he cleared his throat and swallowed, then mumbled, “It’s-... it’s Noah,” under his breath just loud enough for him to hear.

Gabe’s thought processes came to a screeching halt as his personal life collided with his alias for just a moment. To hear that Noah was in Washington, DC, much less at the Zion Founders Fundraiser, was the last thing he’d expected to hear that evening. As Reed continued to drop curses in the background, Gabe turned to face the bar and flashed a polite, but forced smile at the bartender as she eyed him with nervous sweeps. He didn’t reach for the glass right away as it was set in front of him on a small black napkin. “Please, tell me I didn’t just hear what I think I did…” he muttered internally as a dozen different possibilities for how the night would turn out flashed thumb-nailed pre-constructions across his HUD. But Reed’s uncomfortable sputtering confirmed what he was hoping was just a joke.

“No, you heard me right.” One hand swiped over his face in a downward motion and scratched in frustration at the stubble he hadn’t bothered to shave in almost a week and desperately avoided Falken’s infuriated ‘what the fuck’ gestures in the background. “The bastard’s actually here, arrived in DC last night with Hannah and President-Elect Kamski. H-he stopped by the house lookin’ for you, but I told him you were undercover an’couldn’t make an appointment. I told him t’keep his nose outta our shit, but he-” Reed paused and squinted over Falken’s shoulder as Noah slipped the tiny camera into his pocket with a ‘Can you hear me alright in there?’ “Oh, son of a….” “What the hell is he doing…?”

The camera-bulb didn’t act as a walkie. And to their credit, all the personnel Noah could plainly see -now that his recognition software had sorted fact from fiction- didn’t stir, much less blow their cover. He knew without being told what this sting was about, and who it was the FBI were really here to keep tabs on. Perhaps him showing up was akin to being a ‘fly in the ointment’, but as yet he hadn’t done anything other than offend their Christmas tree. He gave the indifferent lens one more wordless glance as he rolled the bulb between his fingers. For a brief moment he considered winking at it, but decided at the last moment to pocket the device instead. Perhaps it’d come in handy elsewhere- for someone who hadn’t been properly equipped for this operation, it was the best he could do on such short notice. Failing that, he could always speak very loudly and deliberately at Gabriel’s collar mic, if he’d let him get close enough. The owner of the ear he recognized from before still hadn’t turned around. Outwardly he didn’t look very distressed. Only the new hunch in his shoulders, invisible to the human eye as it was, said it all. Far be it from him to keep ‘Vincent’ in suspense.

[cruzrogue]

Enter My World

Previously chapter1

Intro:  This came to me after seeing the train wreck of what Robert Queen has done. Two powerful families of Starling/Star City have failed so many people including themselves. Anyways I decided to write a piece that is like Bizzaro World where The Merlyns and Queens didn’t screw everything up and actually were pillars of the community, and omg good parents past and future.

Chapter 2

The long L-shaped hallway off the antique main staircase carries the sound of heavy footsteps heading to a particular room. Heavy in the sense that the man walking hurriedly across a very exorbitant rug his wife had just had installed days ago to check on why his youngest ran into their home sobbing. His bubbling happy little girl crying is unthinkable. Last time she was known to do this broke his and Rebecca’s hearts as they had to tell her in different ways that she is a blessing to them and no matter what they were all a family.

The large oak door separates them and he can’t tell by standing on this side if she is still crying. He’ll have to cross the threshold into a very young feminine room that actually speaks of science fiction and her love of animation. Oh, he has seen one to many cartoons with her seated against his side as she giddily talks about as many characters in detail that always seem to be never-ending and he makes sure to invest time to learn about each little character that brings out a spark of light. He finds between both of his children he is well versed in modern day kid related pop culture. As a man who holds the classic works dear to his own upbringing, he loves sharing anything his kids will ramble on about. Coming home from a corporate world it brings a warmth to his whole being that he has two children he adores and a wife he loves that are also happy to see him. Life is good. Now it’s time to make his ball of sunshine break a smile as he takes his fatherly duties to include.

Behind a door, Felicity smashes her face deeper into the pillow not caring of anything as her tears are absorbed by the soft material. Her heart heavy, she doesn’t want to feel the anguish that a stupid boy is causing. She said her peace and knows there is nothing else she can do. He’s too dumb to see. She shouldn’t have kissed him maybe she’s the real dumb one. Now she’s lost Oliver, her Vernnie, well her Vern. Even now she thinks that is a stupid nickname that only she used. He’s never corrected her and even shared a personal nickname with her and she’s never been one to like pet names but coming from him it was special. Now that is all gone. She’d never hear it again.

She doesn’t notice the door opening and surely not the dip on her bed but when a large hand stirs her from her loud sobs peaking to already guess it is her father who she passed on her gloomy run to her bedroom to happily shut the door to her existence.

Muffling out “…Me alone…”

“I’m sorry sweetie but I can’t understand you muffling into the pillow.”

She rises enough to grumble. It makes him chuckle which only adds to her frustrations. “Dad, I want to be alone.” She then plops back onto her now dampened pillow. She hears a hum but he doesn’t leave as he now begins rubbing her back.

“A new component for your computers came in.”

She sighs inaudibility onto her pillow but her dad isn’t going to get the picture. He is so obtuse at times. He really is a family-oriented man. How she guesses tragedy changed him to making sure everything he considers important always knows he is there. She should be glad but right now self-pity is the highlight and it’s for a party of only one.

“I don’t care.”

That gets a reaction. “Don’t care?” She can hear her dad make a grumble sound of displeasure. “Since when? You’re my electronic bunny who has always been excited for these things. It’s something you carried from before this household was blessed with your presence.”

She moves her face to look at his. “Dad!” She blinks a few times as she shakes her head at him. “Don’t you think you’re being a little melodramatic?”

“Me? Dramatic?”

“You make it seem I was the best thing…” He stops her as his arms easily move her into a sitting position as her little limbs are over his lap and make it more comfortable to talk and look at the tear-soaked girl who has his heart.

“I need you to listen, you are one of the best things that has ever graced my life. You are my daughter. No matter what is happening in your life I want you to know your mother and I love you very much.”

She can’t look away even though she feels small. Being in his strong arms in a position that has her eyes in sync with his. “I know.”

“You can talk to me about anything.”

“Ah dad.”

“Really Felicity, I still remember the day you came home from school crying because some mean kids said that you weren’t a Merlyn. You kept that to yourself allowed it to fester. Not knowing what made you withdraw it hurt your mom and I deeply. To hear it from another person that you thought once we tired of you, we would send you away. How could we ever do such a thing?”

That makes her tears fall uncontrollably. It was Oliver who tattletale on her. She told him that in despair and he couldn’t let her think that she was just a filler and had the courage to tell her father how she felt. At first, she felt horrified that he did that but he told her she would do the same. They looked out for one another. Another reason that her heart hurts. He won’t be there for her no more.

She hears her dad say words of comfort. Words to open dialogue but she is so distraught. She really wants to wallow in this pain for a while. Even so she says in-between sobs, “I’m sorry daddy.”

“Oh, my ball of wonder. You’ll don’t ever need to apologize to me. I’m your dad. I’m here for you. Please tell me what’s wrong?” With her trying to not cry the effort very much appreciated by him. He could leave her to cry some more but that really isn’t their way. If he of her mother can be there, that is where they’ll be.

Because he brought up the first moment, he found her like this even back then before a young boy he also considers to be a son told him why she was so distressed he tells her, “I will always honor your parents. They saved my soul. Their most cherish gift is you.”

After a hiccup she adds wondering about her real parents, “I still miss them.”

“I know sweetie. We’ll miss them together.”

His own eyes become glossy as he remembers that moment that moment the ball of events started and reshaped his life. Malcolm Merlyn will never forget that message left on his phone after his wife was shot. Her words still haunt him but then he heard other voices comforting her telling her that help was on the way. Applying pressure to her wound. Being there for her. He will never forget meeting the heroes that saved his wife. Noah and Donna who were instrumental angels in keeping Rebecca alive. Their own anguish of leaving a family courtroom as divorcees to leading in saving a woman they didn’t know but helped just the same.

In a sitting area at a busy hospital he hugged them even offered a monetary award and they just were gracious that they could help and told the man they needed to pick up their daughter so unbeknownst to him as the they went on their way that their lives would be cut short. In leaving Starling City with a daughter that he wasn’t privy in meeting. Just to find that they were in a horrible car crash that the emergency personnel had to use the jaws of life to pull a little girl from the car. She was alive but now an orphan.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Somewhere in the same capacity of time the news that Rebecca wouldn’t be able to have another child if she one day desired to. Their personal doctor looking over the chart again and with them looking at the man who would shed some light if she indeed could not have another child, she desperately didn’t know she wanted. They had an adorable little boy already. All this time in a hospital checking her wounds with the possibility that the damage due to scar tissue were permanent it held a finite time that any possibility of adding another little one to the family being lost. Holding out her hand as her husband laid a kiss to her palm as the doctor turned now towards them.

“Mrs. Merlyn, Mr. Merlyn. I am truly sorry to inform you both that there is severe damage to carry a child to full term.”

“What does that mean? Full term?”

“The chances are there that the embryo could attach to the womb but after so many weeks’ complications would start to arise. The fetus wouldn’t make it in the third trimester.”

Rebecca wanting to leave so she could cry but stuck in a hospital bed it had him stand up and thank the doctor so the man would leave them be.

Moments later as her sobs took hold, he had to remind her and himself that they had one child at home who they loved with all their hearts. “We have Tommy.”

Rebecca knows this but her baby isn’t a baby no longer. “He isn’t a little baby no more.”

“Rebecca you’ve never cared to have another. I know Tommy is turning ten but he’ll always be your baby boy.”

“I know Malcolm; it is just hard to think that the possibility is taken from us. If, we chose not to have another child it would be our choice but this…”

“I’m just blessed that I didn’t lose you. Now that’ll be something I couldn’t fathom. I love you.”

“I love you too. You also don’t need to promise to cut down on work, I know I married a workaholic.” She kisses him.

“Maybe not but I know I have a family and that should be my priority. I’m so sorry my love. No company in this world measures up to you. I love you so much.”

“Dad? Are you okay?”

Malcolm shakes his head as the last thought was of how he wanted to be a better husband and father. He can’t believe his mind wandered to the past as he is holding a girl who brought hope and healing. That his family grew by one more and even within tragedy there is some good. He hears his daughter now beginning to worry for him. Yes, he is a blessed man to have such a family.

“I’m fine sweetheart. Just recalling the time frame before your sunshine made us all complete.”

“Dad! Please!”

“I know… Too much right?” He smiles as he can be a little dramatic at times.

“I’m going to be okay daddy; you don’t have to worry about me.”

“I will always worry.” He brings her close to kiss her forehead. “It’s a dad thing.”

“I’ll be okay, I promise.”

“You aren’t going to share why you’re so sad? You do know you can talk to me about anything!”

Feeling better with how her dad is just being himself. A worry hog. That maybe spilling a little bit and getting his input could make her feel better. It always does.

“I kissed a boy.” There she said it.

“Oh.”

He doesn’t really know how to counter other than showing some surprise. A part of him cringing thinking he had a few more years. He thought Tommy was going to be the first one to have him and his wife really worry about. Got to give it to his daughter for she is an overachiever. Now he will never get any sleep. He doesn’t say any typical dad stuff he waits to see why she is in her room crying and as the dad who asks the obvious. “He didn’t like it?”

She shakes her head no.

“He didn’t like it?”

“It was barely a second but he doesn’t want me in his life anymore. He said so. Daddy I really like him.” It already has her tearing up. “I know I’m just a stupid kid.” With that she loses it and begins to cry to the point of hiccups.

“Hey, hey you are not stupid.” His voice firm which gets her attention it’s the tone he has when either Tommy or herself do something foolish and somehow they always fear his reprimand. As loving as he can be, he also can be stern. Living without TV privileges or that one time where she wasn’t able to participate in a science fair because of dying her brother’s hair blue. No amount of begging or pouting helped it actually could increase the punishment. So, hearing her dad use his no-nonsense voice she listened. “You are a genius. Do you know what your mother would say if she were here?”

“No. She’d probably just try to coax me to tell her who and why he doesn’t like me.”

Malcolm thought of asking but figured it be best not to know who broke his baby’s heart. He knows his baby will break hearts as well. No, his duty as her father is to help her stand back up after a session of licking her wounds.

“Well then I guess I’ll say what I think she’ll jester on saying…” He winks at her. “Ice cream. I think some mint chocolate before dinner is to be had and then if we need to cry at least our belly be full of deliciousness of gooey happiness.” He sees her crack a smile. Yes, seeing a smile grace her face is all he ever needs. “Come on. I’ll semi race you.”

“Semi?”

“Yes. No running in the house.” He already has her over his shoulders and he can hear her laughing as she tells him she’s a big girl and he declares, “Yes my ball of sunshine.” Her sadness put on hold as the father and daughter duo are heard laughing as they head down the hall.

tagging: @1106angel @memcjo @keabbs @lovelifelovebooks

[gaylortruther]

(many) tag games

saw someone else do this so i figured i’d go through all my tag games in one looong post instead of spamming you all with a bunch of separate posts!

i’m gonna tag everyone now and yall can choose which tag games you want to do or whether you want to do them all (or whether you want to do any)!!

thanks to everyone who tagged me in all of these! i LOVE being tagged in tag games and i am always up for more! <3

tagging THE SANCTION (including ppl that i haven’t gotten up on the page yet im sorry abfjffsdhsjbjsdf it will happen SOON):  @newdivinities @wolvesofarcadia @maskedlady @victoiirres @sancta-silje @bumblebeesonpaper @wasting-ink-not-youth @horrorspell @ya-lady-tauriel @awritinglen @purpleshadows1989 @ivonoris @theforgottencoolkid @the-ichor-of-ruination @grotesqu-e @lucacangettathisass @tea-ndi @hazeywrites @lunar895 @thewordsinthesky-andstars

[LAST LINE TAG]

TAGGED BY  @melwrotethat AND @hazeywrites

thank you both for the tags! these are the last few lines of the prologue-excerpt-thing i wrote for the page i’m working on for WHERE THE CELLAR MEETS THE SKY

Somehow, Collin hears them. Silently, she rolls up her sleeve, and Rowan feels the Collin Sutherland they knew is somewhere far, far away. The tattoos are black, geometric in design, two on each arm, and eerily similar to the ones Rowan has just discovered on their own left arm. They're sure if they were to roll up their right sleeve, they would find more.

"I should have told you a long time ago," Collin whispers. "I didn't know you were a part of it, but I should have guessed. I didn't want to put you in danger."

"I'm not- I don't- in danger of what?"

The waves crash onto the shore, and in the distance, a seagull cries, sending Collin into action. She grabs Rowan's hand and starts pulling, dragging them back behind the house.

"Come on. We don't have a lot of time, we have to get going. I can tell you everything on the way. I don't know why he brought me here instead of straight to the veil, damn it-,"

"Wait!," they say, wrenching their hand out of her grasp. "Just- stop! Where are we going?!"

Collin's eyes flash bright, despite the lack of sunlight. "Home."

yeah, a bit long, a bit unedited, but *shrugs*

[SPELL OUT UR URL USING SONG TITLES]

TAGGED BY @tea-ndi

thank you sage!!! <3

hard feelings/loveless | lorde

another one of those days | cavetown

let’s fall in love for the night | FINNEAS

ocean eyes | billie eilish

honey and milk | flower face

i know | king princess ft fiona apple

dreamz | sara king

iloveyou | BETWEEN FRIENDS

nobody’s home | gnash

greek god | conan gray

sycamore girl | rex orange county 

and there you have a small sample of my music taste! add in literally every taylor swift song (dont judge me), some lo-fi tunes without ANY words whatsoever, and the occasional fall out boy or panic at the disco goddamn absolute banger, and you have my XANDERS JAMS playlist on spotify. ENJOY

[11/11/11 TAG]

TAGGED BY @awritinglen <333333333333333333333333

thank you for tagging me len!!! your questions were so fun!! i’m doing this for WHERE THE CELLAR MEETS THE SKY

Name all OCs in your WIP

OMFG okay,,, wait do you mean full names?? POV characters as of rn are Collin Aisling Sutherland, Rowan Tilley (doesn’t have a middle name) and Avery Bristol Charter. then the next most important one is Isaac Michael Rosewell, even though he’s the antagonist. then the side characters that are still very featured are Noah Rosalyn Pratten, Reese Iseul Radley, and Sage Emarosa Delgado. THEN we get into the very very side characters, Willa Robinson and her son August Robinson. then we have Avery’s parents, Alaric and the late Octavia Charter. and thennnnn we have Beldane Moreno, Avery’s uncle and Collin’s grandfather (undecided abt that last name but going w it for now). i promise it all makes sense. i promise anfnfsjnfdjsfd

Name at least one hobby your Main character love

i’ll give this one to Collin, she is a musician! Avery’s mother always taught her music before The Accident (dun dun dunnn) and after Collin was abandoned in the Nigh she threw herself into music. she plays guitar mostly, but she secretly loves piano the best out of every instrument she knows

3 sentences about your current WIP

OOF. im so bad at summaries why would you do this to meee abfhshjbsbshfjsbf. “A determined believer wants to return to a home that never wanted her. Almost 4000 miles away, an incisive, intellectual outcast of a dreamer muses over getting out of their hometown. And infinities away from them both, a teenage revolutionary disappears into thin air, on his way to bring back his past and fix his (and everyone’s) future.”

Is there a romance in your WIP and did you plan it from the beginning?

yes! there are three! they are definitely a main focus of the plot, but not THE main focus. Reese and Rowan were definitely planned from the beginning. Collin and Noah were, too, but they weren’t originally enemies to lovers, and they are now (hehehehehe). and Isaac and Avery were DEFINITELY not planned from the beginning. in fact, Avery was originally paired up with Sage, but it’s literally so much better this way and i’m so glad it’s been changed. Isaac and Avery has been planned since about when Isaac’s character was thought up, one year into planning WTCMTS.

What genre(s) is it?

a mix of dystopia and urban fantasy. and it’s YA, borderline NA because some of the characters are 19-20, but i still think YA is appropriate because of the style of writing.

What’s the aesthetic of two of your characters?

fun question! Collin’s aesthetic is very emo-punk, with a splash of yellow towards the end of the series. piercings, blue hair, rips on clothing, dirty converse, smudged eyeliner, safety pins. the yellow comes in as part of her character arc, as she learns to accept that her childhood memories are tainted and not actually perfect utopia. Rowan is way more minimalist (sometimes). they’re into the bookstagram type aesthetic, and mom jeans with sneakers, jean jackets, plants against a white wall, colorblocked windbreakers, rain against a car window.

When did you start your current WIP?

WTCMTS was started in august of 2017 

How far along are you in the process (i.e 1st/2nd/3rd draft, worldbuilding)

still worldbuilding, unfortunately, for personal reasons

Who’s the hardest character for you to write?

OOOOOOF. sage or rowan?

What music genre best decribes your main character(s) and whats their favorite?

Collin - alternative (favorite band would be like twenty one pilots, p!atd) 

Rowan - ichillwave (clario, rex orange county)

Avery - emo (fall out boy, all time low)

Isaac - indie alternative OR instrumental lofi (jaymes young, birdy)

Noah - electropop (lorde, halsey, charlie xcx)

Reese - folk rock (the head and the heart, of monsters and men)

Sage - indie pop (lana del ray, florence + the machine)

Are you working on more than one WIP?

yes! i have four currently but only two are important lol, ILLUNIUS and WHERE THE CELLAR MEETS THE SKY (this one). WIP PAGE

MY QUESTIONS

how did you come up with the title for your WIP?

is there anything you want to change about your WIP but you are hesitating on?

do you have a favorite character? a character that is your baby?

write a tinder bio for one of your characters.

how do you feel about epilogues? does your wip include an epilogue?

what changes does your MC go through over the course of the story?

what is the most significant insignificant thing that happens in your story? don’t explain why it is significant if it spoils things ;)

do you know what will happen after the ending of your wip, or would you rather not picture it?

how long does your wip span? is it a novel? a series? does it have prequels or spin-off wips?

what is a major internal conflict for your MC? 

do you include flashbacks in your wip? do you like writing flashbacks?

[HOW TO KNOW YOU’RE IN A ______ NOVEL TAG]

TAGGED BY @writevevo​ AND @wolvesofarcadia​

thank you both for this tag! it’s so much fun and both of your novels sound like novels that would be very interesting to be stuck in :D

inspired by this post

HOW TO KNOW YOU’RE IN A HALOHIDINGS NOVEL

you’re an older sibling and you have a younger sibling. you’re extremely bitter towards your younger sibling for stealing opportunities from you, damning you to a life you never truly wanted. your younger sibling adores you and just wants to please you. they never meant to do it. 

you’re stuck in constant, wistful wanderlust, never feeling like you truly belong, never fitting in anywhere, not with friends, not with family, and when you finally find the place you’ve been looking for, you realize it’s nothing like you dreamed or remembered.

you’re not heterosexual. no one around you is. no one is cisgender either. where are they? no one knows. 

you have a peculiar capability dancing under your skin. it trickles from your pores and muddles with your mind. maybe you asked for it, maybe it was predestined, maybe you never wanted anything to do with it. whatever the reason, it’s there, and you don’t know what’s you and what’s it. maybe you’re not meant to ask. maybe you’re meant to succumb. 

your memories are as fickle as the rain, coming and going and breaking through the clouds, shattering the fog and disappearing with the sun. you can’t recall what you’re doing here, or where you’re meant to be instead. what’s your name?, they ask. you don’t know.

there are two worlds. one world is blissfully unaware of this, or at least, as unaware as any world of millions and millions of people can be. no secret can be kept forever, they tell you. you are desperately trying to keep the secret.

the one closest to you, despite your abhorrent denial of this fact, the one you would trust with your life, will betray you. because of their decision, their selfishness, you will either lose them, or lose yourself.

THOSE WERE SO FUN OMG. they all mostly apply to both of my major wips, which is probably bad. oh well LMAO

SORRY THAT WAS SOOOOOOOO LONG hope at least someone does one of these tag games lol <3 

xander out