#td fanfiction

[alenoah]

Noah Doesn’t Care

Alejandro, if asked in some professional capacity, if he has people he feels safe with, would agree that he had multiple friends and family members he’s known for a long time. If he were asked, not by a doctor or authority figure, but by a peer, he doesn’t know what he would say. Because nobody would dream of asking him such a question. That was part of the benefit for being what he was.

Nobody would dare ask him until he went on Total Drama: World Tour.

He has operated on a set of very well-established rules up to now, that determine the best possible way to come out on top of any negative interaction:

They who mock are less than they who dismiss.

Those who are less affected by the other are greater than those who are more affected.

They who walk away are less than they who do not give up.

Knives in the back go deeper than ones in the front.

They made perfect sense to him. Public mockery is so…deeply offensive that surely the very thought of participating in such nauseous behavior would only fail to suppress the most vindictive of human beings. The list goes on. Everyone around him seemed to know to follow his rules.

Noah doesn’t care.

Good god, Noah doesn’t care anymore about this psychic wave high school social cue bullcrap anymore. Most of the appeal of going on that nightmare reality show a second time was that he could leave all of that at home and hang out with one of his real friends (his only one). Instead, an actual political failson scooched social politics back into the game when he made his way in. And now his…friendly acquaintances feel like they have to treat him more coldly than before, never explaining why the change is happening. But Noah doesn’t need them to tell him why. He knows. He’s felt it before for too many years by now. On the bright side, he’ll have Owen until someone pulls him over to a different table in the cafeteria.

So when Alejandro tries to grab Noah’s arm and lead him to a different table, Noah doesn’t have a prepared answer. There was no reason to account for such a circumstance because it would never naturally happen. So the circuits in his head spark and sizzle until something breaks.

He stops caring about the rules.

…

……

…………

“What did you just say to me?”

“What, is there some mythical reason you can’t hear me that I haven’t heard of? I said, ‘Do you actually have people you trust or are all of your friends only talking to you because you made them cut off everyone else?’”

…………

………

…

Holy #%&$ did I just say that?

Alejandro stares…and then scoffs, walking away at a pace that was embarrassingly faster than his usual confident saunter. The face of his flesh burns as he enters the confessional bathroom.

“What does he- who does he think- how? How did he do that? That’s not how it’s supposed to go.” He stays angry for a moment, and then slowly starts to deflate of it, despite his best efforts. The whole point of making the rules is that you know everyone is following the same set. Noah just…ruined it, paid no mind to anything, and left Alejandro with a trail leading out of the acceptable bounds. And Alejandro fumbled, answerless. There was no reason to account for such a circumstance because it would never naturally happen.

He stands in the confessional a while longer, and figures he can keep them from using the footage if he covers the lens and doesn’t make any noise. How doesn’t Noah care? How does he know how to make decisions if he’s not abiding by a commandment? Alejandro prays for answers but gets no amendments.

He eventually needs to leave the confessional.

…

……fine, just…12 more dots, ok?

…………

Alejandro opens the door to Noah reaching for the handle.

The door flies into Noah’s forehead as he attempts to shove Alejandro’s force back towards him. It does bounce off of his forehead with great elasticity, and just faintly graces Alejandro’s cheek with the light, cold kiss of plastic. He’s pretty sure that most of this plane is made of old commercial airline parts- Chris is known to be cheap with them.

“Watch where you’re going, friend! There are plenty of much heavier doors on this plane you could run into.” He hopes the threat goes through. He’ll get the upper hand if he seems upset.

It bounces right off of Noah. “If you really have no one you trust enough to make sure you get a parachute should your legs give out, you need to watch out for doors on this plane much more than I do.”

Neither is sure, a few hours later while everyone tries to sleep, why they don’t feel like they beat the other.

[gaytotaldrama]

duncney week day 3: dress up

somehow, duncan convinces courtney to let him give her a makeover.

duncney song of the day: 'make me feel,' janelle monaé

also on my ao3!

Her answer was no. A flat, resounding no.

And then she thought a little more about it.

"Fine," she told him, plopping down on the bed they shared. "You know what, I'd like to see you try. Do your worst, Duncan."

"You're gonna regret saying that, Princess," he replied, grinning ear-to-ear like a shark. "You're not ready for how punk I can make you."

"Yeah, yeah, just get on with it."

In all actuality, he wasn't entirely sure what his game plan was here. It wasn't like he'd thought Court was going to agree to him giving her a serious style change. Brainstorming on the fly, he delved into his side of the closet, much messier and uncoordinated than Courtney's neatly folded and primly labeled drawers. Deciding he'd give her a little autonomy (and also make things easier for himself) Duncan asked, "Dress, skirt, or pants, babe?"

"Um, skirt. I guess. Just not that godawful kilt Owen gifted you, please."

He picked out a torn midnight blue piece that he was 110% positive belonged to Gwen - Duncan didn't go for skirts often, but when he did, they weren't so...pasty. Still, imagining Courtney wearing it got his blood roaring. He turned around and tossed it to her, along with a maroon leather belt Gwen's friend Crimson had left behind. Or was it Ennui's? And, more importantly, why was Duncan's closet full of everyone else's goddamn clothes but his own?

The rustle of fabric behind him told him she was changing. Any other day he'd smirk and watch, but right now, it was more important to find her a shirt.

"Does Gwen even know you have their stuff?" He could hear the whisper of leather being pulled swiftly through loops. "Good call on the belt, though. Last time I borrowed Gwen's pajama pants, they fell down and I accidentally showed Harold my undies."

"Doris saw your panties? Might have to beat him up for that," Duncan returned casually, fishing out a tie-dyed black-and-blue Metallica shirt. "Here you go, Princess, Ride the Lightning."

He did turn to watch as she pulled her sweater over her head. She was wearing that black lace bra that drove Duncan crazy; he was sad to see it disappear under the new shirt. 

"You said punk," Courtney pointed out, looking down at her - unfortunately well-concealed, fuck Duncan's wide-ass torso - chest. "This is metal," she groused, like he didn't already know that.

He grinned. "You wanna swap it out for the Sex Pistols one?"

"...Fine." She sat on the edge of the bed again, crossing her arms. "Well? Shoes? Hair? Makeup?"

"Piercings?" Duncan joked, but at the answering withering glare, he quickly turned back to the closet. "Here, I've got these patchwork sneakers that should fit, and some fishnets. As for hair..."

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked warily, before shrieking as he pounced on her with a can of hairspray, intent on giving her some spikes. "Duncan! This stuff smells terrible!"

Then he decided he didn't like the spike idea, so he opted for just mussing it all up and layering it with some spritzes of dry shampoo. It did kinda hurt, just a little bit, to ruin Court's beautiful hair, but it was only temporary. 'Sides, alt Courtney had been a fantasy of his since...the first time he'd ever laid eyes on her, maybe?

Grabbing some mascara and umber eyeshadow, he ultra-darkened her lashes and smeared around her eyes carelessly, black and powdered. She fidgeted throughout all of that, but when he laid a steady hand on her jaw to fill in her soft lips with color, she stayed completely still, just looking at him.

When he capped the lipstick she sighed, breath fluttering out against his face, and dipped forward like she wanted to kiss him. "Nuh-uh," he said, holding a hand up between their two mouths. "You'll smudge it."

"Oh, like it matters," she said, and stepped up to the full-length mirror on their wall.

"Well?" For one reason or another, Duncan found himself nervous, sinking down to sit on the mattress. "What do you think?"

"Hmm." She was studying herself, turning her body this way and that to catch all the different angles. To him, she was beautiful. Metal, and makeupped, and fishnetted, and beautiful.

But still nowhere near as incredible as the real Courtney Reyes.

"It's missing something," she decided, and she grabbed Duncan's skull hoodie from the back of the desk chair. She didn't zip it up; she let the sleeves fall loose so her shoulders were bare and the hood hung to the small of her back. Then she turned to him and echoed, "Well?"

Duncan smiled like a goof. "Looks amazing."

"You think so? I kinda like it." She cast another glance in the mirror before settling her hooded gaze on him. "Hey, when did Geoff say he and Bridgette were coming back home?"

"Not for another hour or so." Duncan reached out for her, pulled her to stand between his legs with her arms looped around his neck. "What did you have in mind?"

"I think," she said, slow and sultry. "That it's time for..."

"Yeah, Princess?"

"...Your turn."

He frowned. "What do you mean my - wait, NO. No no no no no no no I am not going to - "

"Oh, yes you are!!!" Courtney crowed with delight, and she leapt off of him and raced, cackling, to her side of the closet.

[alenoahvember]

[weezerfan123]

Chapter 3 art for Don’t Fall in Love! <3 Link to read is under the cut, please check it out!! ^_^

[luk4-luk1]

MY BEST DRAWING YET. based on the amazing @butter-toes04 's fic: Look my way. I present

NOAH GARDEN SCENE

[t-lostinworlds]

The Grump & The Drunk | Miguel O'Hara

》 PAIRING: miguel o'hara x spider-woman!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: grumpy x (drunk) sunshine, fluff, humor

》 SUMMARY: You were clingy, feisty with no filter when you're drunk. Miguel had front row seat of it—literally. You're lucky he didn't mind. In fact, he was glad it was him and not anyone else. The thought made him seethe in jealousy even though you technically were not his girl. But he wasn't sure if that still rang true after tonight's drunken confession (or that make-out session).

》 WARNINGS: alcohol consumption, soft!miguel (also emotionally constipated!miguel but what's new), r calls him miggy to tease him, height difference (he's 6'9" he's an effin giant), r thirsts over him in front of his face lol, some innuendos, brief argument about feelings, overall very cute and fluffy.

》 WORD COUNT: 6.1k+

A/N: can anyone guess what movie i watched recently. is anyone surprised that i liked the grump with a side of trauma lmao. ANYWAY. this is the first time i'm writing miguel so pls be nice. wrote this fairly quickly too and it's barely proofread sooo. but i hope you still enjoy it!

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

It was late.

Quiet.

Well, for now, at least.

Moments like these were rare to come by, where there wasn't much to do except to let things happen. The multiverse was stable enough not to need any intervention.

It usually was the epitome of the calm before the storm.

Nevertheless, everyone—well, those left at HQ and weren't on stakeout—in the Spider Society took advantage of it.

There was always some sort of activity going on during these types of days. Most of it were small get-togethers in the cafeteria, or perhaps a low-key karaoke in the cinema room. Other times it was much more on the nose.

Right now, there was a party held on the rooftop.

The music was blaring—muffled for him, thanks to his soundproofing—as it jumped from genre to genre depending on who successfully bribed the DJ.

It was rowdy—that he was sure of. What, with the modified alcohol strong enough to affect any Spider-Person as if they weren't enhanced, how could it not be?

Miguel wasn't one for festivities. Not to mention, strobe lights always gave him bad migraines. So after showing face for about ten minutes—he wouldn't have shown up at all but was begged to go by someone he couldn't say no to—he decided to call it a night.

Well, back to his…Spider-Cave.

He was sure there would be copyright issues if that was made official.

But it was dubbed by you so it simply stuck.

You, with bright eyes and a sweet smile as you pleaded for him to come with you to the rooftop even if it was "just a couple minutes, please?"

You, who wore a simple yet gorgeous black dress as you all but dragged him into the elevator, bouncing with excitement because it was going to be your first party here at HQ.

You, who enthusiastically sipped on your Pink Señorita—a margarita with pink lemonade—giddy to feel the buzz of the alcohol after years of being unable to.

You, who was so joyful and uncaring as you danced to your heart's content when your favorite song came on, right in the middle of the floor, shining as bright as the sun as the others revolved around you.

Miguel only watched from the sidelines, his chest aching with longing. So close but out of reach because he couldn't.

He'd only put a damper on your light.

It wasn't a matter of if, it was a matter of when.

He couldn't do that to you.

Soft spot.

Miguel had very few of those.

Anyone who dared to give their opinion on his life with the bravery to say it right to his face said one was occupied by you.

Some would even imply that you held the biggest one.

And sure, the first time Lyla scouted you and suggested for you to be recruited into the Spider Society he might've said yes far too quickly than he should've. But that was only because he saw the way you took down a sector of the Maggia all on your own. He was thoroughly impressed.

There were also times when he let you get away with annoying him scot-free. Whether that was teasing, various nicknames, talking his ear out for hours as you refused to leave him alone to do work, and sometimes even pranks. If it were any other person doing the same things you would've done, they would be leaving the premises at least fearing their life.

He also let you spend time around his magic carpet—as you so unoriginally named it. You were constantly testing those copyright issues—quite often to the point that some of your stuff had migrated the space. There were little trinkets scattered around, evidence that you'd been here.

Miguel finally bought a desk chair perfectly suited for his big and tall stature all because you complained about not having anywhere to sit while you were up here with him.

It was more your chair than it was his, to be honest, since you definitely sat on it far more than he had.

Sure, he could've bought an extra one for you but he didn't want to encourage the teasing—that had been nonstop since you waltzed into his life—that he was playing favorites.

He preferred to stand while he worked, anyway.

Fine.

He could kinda see why many people would say he had a soft spot for you.

Speaking of…

Miguel could hear you before he could even see you.

You were giggling to yourself, followed by poor attempts at whispered apologies when you knocked over something or bumped against something else.

It made him worry a little.

Sure, you were too enthusiastic for his liking, all optimism and sunshine despite everything that you had gone through—it harshly contrasted with his personality.

But he wouldn't particularly classify you as clumsy.

He waited for you to call for him, anticipating which way you'd say it this time around. Your most recent one was: "O'Hara, O'Hara, let down your floating chair."

You thought you were really funny with that one.

But silence.

No cheeky way of asking him to let you come up.

Where'd you go?

Suddenly, he heard a very annoyed and frustrated groan, prolonged and all dramatic.

Then, that familiar thwip rang in the air.

You couldn't have been more impatient.

He was aware of exactly where you were, shooting your webs in random directions so long as you hit a column that took you higher and higher. But even if he didn't have his enhanced senses, your constant giggling would give you away.

Yet as loud as you had already been, your shriek was even louder.

Miguel didn't hesitate to jump off the platform.

His heart was pounding as he clocked your falling figure, adrenaline and fear all at once.

You looked dazed in your freefall, unable to comprehend that your cartridges were empty as you kept trying to shoot your webs.

In the nick of time, he caught you by the waist—upside down.

He let out a huge sigh of relief at the same time you turned into heaps of giggles.

"This isn't how I imagined us getting into this position," you snorted as if you weren't dangling a couple of feet above the ground, feet in the air, arms limp and swaying. "Wow…your thigh is bigger than my head!"

Miguel's whole body warmed, not only from your comments but also because you were still in your dress.

Thank fuck it wasn't a loose skirt.

Not that he would ever look. He might be a bit of a grump—temperamental at times, he'll admit—but he was still a gentleman.

Though he was glad you couldn't see the obvious fluster on his face given your current upside-down predicament.

He'd never hear the end of it.

"I'm flipping you around," he said.

"Like a pancake?"

He didn't answer. He simply tossed you into the air, your squeal echoing off the walls. He caught you again but the right way up this time—your hands clinging onto his shoulders, legs around his waist.

Miguel tried not to dwell on your closeness as he shot a web and pulled you both back up.

"You flipped me like a pancake!" you giggled, stumbling onto the platform once you reached it.

What on earth is going on with you?

One look in your eyes, his unspoken question was swiftly answered.

"Widely irresponsible to swing while drunk," he reprimanded, arms crossed over his chest.

You blew a raspberry, waving your hand dismissively. "Am not drunk."

"Then why did I have to save you from falling head-first into the ground?"

"I slipped!"

"You could've just called me to let the platform down."

"And have it take so fucking long?"

Miguel blinked.

Oh you were so drunk.

"I know it's an intimidating tactic or whatever the fuck it is you're doing. Either way, it's a choice, but it doesn't have to be so damn slow, Miggy!"

"I told you to stop calling me that," he said, no heat in his tone. He simply couldn't stand the way his heart did a funny thing whenever he'd hear that nickname slip past your lips.

"Sorry, sir," you said, sarcasm lacing each letter.

Miguel took a deep breath.

"Don't call me that, either," he said, voice an octave deeper.

You rolled your eyes, completely oblivious to the effect you had on him. "Someone's extra grumpy today."

"Night."

"What?"

"It's night."

"Pfft, you know, you should loosen up your suit," you said, waving at all of him. "Maybe the tightness is making you grumpier somehow, suffocating your muscles and everything."

"The tightness of my suit has nothing to do with my mood."

"Could've fooled me," you scoffed, glaring at him from head to toe. "You're probably chafing in weird places and it's making you irritable. I bet—no, I know you're naked underneath because even though I haven't seen you naked I can still see…stuff, many stuff, big stuff, you know, imagination and not leaving any and shit."

"Dios mío," he grumbled in disbelief, rubbing a palm over his warm face. "How drunk are you?"

"Zero percent-o, Miguelito."

He bit back a smile.

"Could've fooled me," he said, raising a brow at you.

"Don't you dare throw my words back at me," you warned, attempting to appear threatening with your chest puffed out, chin raised as you got all up in his face. You slumped with a pout a second later. "You are so fucking tall!"

"And you are so drunk."

"M'not!"

"Uh-huh, sure," he hummed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Oh I am very sure—Miguel, can you sit down," you complained, brows deeply furrowed as you tried grabbing onto his shoulders, urging him to settle on the chair.

He decided to mess with you a little, planting his feet firmly so you weren't able to budge him even with your enhanced strength.

Your inebriated state wasn't helping your case.

It was the first time he ever got to see you annoyed and he actually found it cute. What, with your brows deeply furrowed and that pout in full play, huffing and puffing as you pushed at his chest with your full body strength, how could he not?

"Miggy sit the fuck down!" you growled.

He resisted the urge to laugh, throwing his hands up as he obliged, "Okay, okay, I'm sitting."

Now, he was the one looking up at you.

Yet you still looked frustrated.

"Is that not any better?" he asked, confused.

"No," you mumbled, glaring down at him, pout still prominent.

The next thing he knew, you were already grabbing onto his shoulders, pushing yourself up the chair.

You sat right on his lap.

Miguel was rarely surprised these days, considering what he did for a living.

But he sure as hell wasn't prepared to have you on top of him.

He could almost feel his brain short-circuit, taking a bit more time and effort for it to get its bearings back into place.

But then, you turned shy, eyes blinking at him all wide with shock as if you didn't know that climbing onto his lap resulted in him and you being so close.

"Hi," you whispered.

"Hello," he murmured, fingers twitching to hold you. He gripped the armrest instead. "Can I ask what exactly it is you're doing?"

"What…was I doing?" you questioned, almost to yourself, scanning the nearly non-existent space between you both before your face lit up. "Oh! I'm trying to talk to you without spraining my neck, genius."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah! You try talking to a six-foot-nine Adonis of a man and see if your neck doesn't hurt after a while."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Adonis, huh?"

"Not like that," you quickly said, voice shyer. "I mean like…huge, muscular, a-and plump."

"Plump?"

"Yeah!" You nodded enthusiastically, pressing your palms right on top his chest, one on each pec. "You've got plump boobs and ass."

He almost choked on air.

"What has gotten into you?" he asked, thoroughly amused.

"You, hopefully."

"Diosito, ayúdame," he muttered, resisting the temptation to take your word for it. You were drunk. You had no idea what you were saying.

Miguel shook his head when you stared at him confused, still slow on your Spanish. Then again, he'd only ever taught you a few phrases so far.

"How many lemonades did you have?" he asked instead.

"Why are you asking me so many questions!" you groaned, head thrown back as dramatically as you could. "It's my turn to ask questions!"

"Fine," he sighed, ignoring the urge to nip at your exposed skin. He heavily disregarded the thoughts that brewed in his head from the way you were innocently squirming on him, trying to get more comfortable, your skirt hiking up in the process.

He was good at keeping his composure, mastered it after years. He could do it for a couple of minutes more.

"Why'd you disappear?" you sighed.

"Too bright. Too loud."

"Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?"

"You were having fun. Didn't want to spoil your mood," he stated the obvious. "Besides, my absence didn't affect anything."

"But it did," you insisted, bottom lip jutting out. "Was gonna ask you to dance."

His brow rose at that. "And what made you think I'll say yes?"

"You always say yes," you said, shrugging as if it was a known fact to the universe.

If it was you asking? Maybe.

He honestly felt a little glad he left the party early. He wouldn't even dare to imagine the outcome if he was seen out on the dance floor with you.

He would much prefer it with no audience—just you and him.

"I don't always say yes."

You narrowed your eyes, obviously not believing him by one bit.

But you didn't bother to argue.

Instead, you plopped forward, arms wrapping around his shoulders, face pressed against his neck.

Miguel froze.

He honestly didn't know what to do with himself.

Well, he wanted to do so many things at once, he just didn't know if he should—too many boundaries, too dangerous to cross.

A battle between logic and emotions.

You chose for him, though.

"Will you just—" You pulled his arms off the armrest, wrapping it around you instead. "Want cuddles, please."

How could he say no?

And for the first time in a long while, Miguel finally let himself go.

Body relaxing into the seat, he pulled you a little closer, palms rubbing soft patterns on your back as he pressed his cheek against the side of your head.

It had been so long since he'd cuddled with someone, so maybe his judgment was a little skewed. But still, he didn't remember it feeling this lovely—not until now.

Or maybe because it was you.

And if he didn't know any better, he'd say you were purring.

"Comfortable?" he hummed, rubbing the tip of his nose against your crown.

You nodded, taking a deep breath, humming soon after, "I've always wondered just how nice you smell up close."

He couldn't stop the flush that crept up his face.

"You're warm," you whispered, rubbing your face against his neck like a cat.

It made him wonder if you'd been hanging around Spider-Cat too much—or Meows Morales.

He'd rather not think about it.

Instead, he commanded his suit to uncover his hands, one less barrier between his palm and your skin. The fabric of your dress did very little to conceal your warmth as he continued giving you comforting rubs.

It made you bury yourself deeper into his arms as if you could go any further.

"This feels nice," you murmured, voice muffled against him.

He hummed in agreement.

You both settled into a comfortable silence after that.

But if he listened closely, the steady thump of your heartbeat was soft against his ears. He found the sound relaxing, and the minuscule romantic part of him imagined it was syncing with his own.

A peaceful rhythm.

Your soft breaths tickled his skin as you snuggled closer, his smile unabashedly painted on his face.

No one was here to see it, anyway.

After a few more moments of calmness, he assumed you'd already fallen asleep. He was already preparing himself to carry you across universes and back home when you suddenly spoke up,

"Can I touch your fangs?"

He blinked.

"What?"

You shifted, pulling back a little so that you could meet his eyes, face so close your noses almost touched.

"Your fangs," you repeated.

Before he could even respond, your hands were already on his face, one thumb lifting the corner of his lip while your other hand found his chin, holding him still.

"Wanna feel how sharp they are," you muttered, opting to use both hands now to pull his lips and expose his canines.

"Very sharp and dangerous," he chuckled despite himself, gently grabbing your wrists to stop your prodding. "Just take my word for it."

"You're pretty when you smile," you said, beaming and proud as if seeing his fangs was an accomplishment.

He rolled his eyes, unable to stop himself from grinning.

You smiled wider in return.

Holding your hands between you both, he absentmindedly started stroking your palms with his thumb.

It guided your gaze toward it.

"Your hands are naked!" you gasped, grabbing his wrists and bringing his fingers up to your face, wonder and awe in your eyes as if it was the first time you'd seen them without cover—it wasn't.

You'd seen him in casual clothes before.

Miguel couldn't stop his laugh from escaping even if he tried.

"I didn't know you could do that!" you said, fully amazed before your brows furrowed, pout coming back. "Why can't my suit do that? I have to get all naked just to feel my fingers."

He didn't dwell on that picture.

"I'll tweak it for you if you'd like," he said instead.

Your whole face brightened.

"Really? You'd do that?" you giddily gasped, bringing his hands up to press your palms against his like a double high five. The way your hand was much smaller than his made his heart warm.

He interlaced your fingers together. "Really."

"We're going to make a suit together!" you laughed, lovely and sweet. "That's a big big step."

He chuckled, gaze carefully tracing your beautiful features, each curve and divot glowing with happiness. He felt tempted to count every perfectly imperfect mark that littered your skin, wanting to know if it was there naturally, or if there was a story behind it.

It was supposed to be a swift glance.

He didn't mean to settle too long on your lips.

Nor did he plan to get caught.

"Stop staring," you whispered shyly.

"You're right in front of my face," he deflected, eyes back on yours.

"I know but…" You trailed off, shifting slightly, the tips of your noses brushing in the process.

"But?" he softly prodded.

"You're looking at me weird."

"How so?"

"Like…" you started, voice dropping into a whisper as if you were disclosing a secret. "You want to kiss me."

He couldn't even bother to deny the truth.

"I'll stop staring," he hummed, words holding no weight as he never removed his eyes from you.

"No!" you protested, turning flustered a second later, shyer when he smirked.

"I thought it was weird?" he teased.

"'Weird' was the wrong word," you said, scrunching your nose in thought. Adorable. "I meant different."

"How different?"

"I don't know," you admitted, leaning a little closer. "But I like it."

"Oh, do you, now?"

"Yeah," you breathed out, hands finding their way to gently cup his cheeks.

Miguel leaned into your touch with a soft smile. "Now who's staring?"

"It's because I want to kiss you," you admitted shamelessly. Your fingers traced the outline of his lips, your eyes following their path.

Miguel kissed your fingertips.

You leaned down and kissed him.

He gasped, eyes wide in shock.

A split second, they fluttered shut, head tilting, whole body melting as he kissed you back.

He spent countless amounts of time daydreaming about this moment, different scenarios, wondering what you tasted like, how it'd make him feel. But fuck—nothing could ever compare to the real thing.

It was so many things all at once.

Relief, hunger, satisfaction, desperation, fondness, fear, mind stopping, heart beating faster, soft lips, warm skin, so lovely, so sweet, so fucking addicting.

Now that he'd gotten a taste, he couldn't get enough.

Miguel cupped the back of your neck, arm snaking around your waist to keep you steady, close.

Your hand held onto his shoulder, the other finding its way into his hair, your fingers combing through the strands.

He lost any sense of control when you pulled.

Gripping your hips, he teased his tongue against the seam of your lips, slipping it in the second you opened up for him.

He groaned at your taste.

You whimpered in response.

The sound made him want to devour you.

But then you started moving your hips.

It was awakening, in more ways than one.

But the rational part of him prevailed because it was for your sake.

He pulled away, gently grabbing your chin, when you tried going back in.

"Slow down," he rasped, holding your waist and keeping you still. "Estás borracho, corazón."

"You know I don't understand," you breathed out, chest heaving, lips all plump and tempting.

"You're drunk, sweetheart," he clarified.

"I don't care," you whined, squirming.

He cupped your face in both hands.

"I do."

You pouted.

"Don't do that."

"I'm not doing anything."

"Don't pout," he sighed.

"I'm not pouting," you denied.

"You are," he said, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip.

Your pout only turned more prominent.

The beep of the clock broke him out of his trance.

It was midnight.

Miguel stood up, taking you with him before gently urging you to stand on your own two feet.

"It’s late. You should go," he said monotonously and stepped back.

You frowned.

He looked away.

"Why do you always do this?"

You were frustrated—no, you were getting angry.

He turned his back on you, eyes on the holograms even though there was nothing worth looking at.

"Do what?" he said, acting oblivious.

"Confuse the fuck out of me," you said, loud with frustration. "You act cold and distant one minute and then you're being nice and sweet the next. You keep your distance but then call me all these cute nicknames sometimes—and yes, you say them in Spanish but I asked Lyla about it once and she told me what they meant."

Traitor—thrown under the bus by his own invention.

"But then sometimes you give in and we get closer but the second I chip your walls you push me away," you continued, getting angrier by the second. "I thought things were getting better between us. But now, you won't even fucking look at me even after we just kissed—"

"You kissed me."

"You kissed me back!" you screamed.

It took him by surprise.

You had never raised your voice, much less yelled at anyone.

But honestly? There was no one else who deserved it more than him.

Slowly turning around, his heart sank when he met your tear-filled eyes.

By instinct, he reached out to try and comfort you.

It only made you angrier.

"You're doing it again!" you growled and stepped back, hands balled into fists.

Miguel stopped, hands up in surrender.

"I'm just trying to protect you," he softly said.

"Protect me?" you scoffed. "Or protect yourself?"

"I'm doing what's best for you," he reasoned, wanting nothing more than to wipe your tears away and kick his own ass for making you cry in the first place.

"You don't know that!"

"Maybe," he said, hands dropping to his sides, dejected. "But I know myself.

"Someone like me shouldn't be with someone as pure and as bright as you."

"No one gets to decide who I should and shouldn't be with," you gritted, taking long strides until you were squaring up to him. "No one but me. That's my choice."

Despite your boiling anger, despite the fact that you were glaring at him in a way that should scare him, despite the absolute animosity that lingered in your voice, your next words couldn't have brought the most opposite reaction from him.

"And I want to be with you."

Happiness, warmth, euphoria—the few things that made his heart burst at the seams.

But Miguel shook his head, eyes dropping to the ground, quickly stomping down emotions.

"I'm only going to end up hurting you," he sighed, pacing back and forth as he rubbed a frustrated hand over his warm face.

"I trust you that you won't."

"Well, you shouldn't," he insisted, eyes filled with longing, wanting to pull you close and taste your lips again despite his words saying otherwise. "You deserve so much better."

"If you believe that so fucking much then be better."

With that, you turned on your heel.

So many things flashed before his eyes, one of which was if he let you walk away now, he was going to lose you, for good.

He fucking panicked.

So much so that he jumped—right over your head.

You squeaked in shock when he landed in front of you.

Miguel didn't waste a second.

He grabbed your face and kissed you senseless.

You stumbled back, Miguel quickly webbing the chair, pulling it just in time for you to land on the cushion.

Not once did his lips leave yours.

He was bending over, hands grabbing the backrest, trapping you against it. You cupped his face, a shiver running down his spine when you trailed your hands down his chest.

But then you gently pushed him back.

He ignored the ache in his heart as he pulled away.

Miguel dropped to his knees in front of you, taking your hands in his, placing a kiss on each palm before he pressed it against his cheeks.

"I want to be with you so badly," he confessed, eyes never leaving yours so you could see it—all of him at your mercy.

"But I'm scared," he whispered, leaning into your touch. "I'm terrified that all I'll ever do is fail you, that I will never end up being the man that you deserve."

"How would you know if you won't try?" you said, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones with the sweetest smile. "And I know you think otherwise, but you deserve to be happy, too."

Miguel didn't know what to say.

So he didn't.

He kissed you instead.

It was slow, reassuring, a soft touch of your lips on his, but never less passionate.

He would've opted to deepen it a little more, but then you downright yawned between the kiss.

And here he thought you couldn't get cuter.

"You need sleep," he chuckled.

"I don't wanna go home," you grumbled, burying yourself into his chest. "It's too far."

"My room, then?" he offered.

You quickly nodded. He could almost feel you grinning against his suit.

He kissed your forehead. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

"Bed?" you gasped, emerging out of your hiding spot to wriggle your brows at him teasingly. "Gosh, take me out to dinner first."

"What am I going to do with you," he grumbled, shaking his head

"Many things, I hope."

He rolled his eyes, pressing the button to let the platform down.

"Miggy, can you give me a piggyback ride?" you asked, pouting for good measure. "I'm tired."

He sighed, turned around and crouched down.

"He doesn't always say yes he said," you giggled.

"Are you getting on or not?"

"Okay, okay, geez." You grabbed his shoulders and hoisted yourself on his back, arms around his neck, legs around his waist. Cheek pressed against his shoulder, you grinned. "Always eager to have me ride you, huh?"

His face warmed.

"I'll drop you if you won't stop."

"No you won't."

Miguel loosened his grip.

You yelped, quickly tightening your hold around him.

"You're so mean!"

He chuckled, turning his head as much as he could and puckering up his lips.

You giggled as you gave him a chaste kiss, pressing your cheek in between his shoulder blades with a deep sigh.

"Lyla, please send extra blankets and pillows to my quarters," he said, smiling to himself when you suddenly got heavier on his back.

He was sure you'd already fallen asleep.

Lyla appeared in front of him a second later, her grin far too wide for his liking.

"Not a single word about this to anyone," he interrupted whatever it was she was starting to say. "Please. Just…give us time to figure this out."

"Gotcha, boss," she said. "But for the record, I'm doing it for her."

"Good."

•••

You squinted at the bright glare that roused you from your sleep. You always close the curtains, it was part of your nightly routine. Why did you forget it this time?

Sitting up, you flopped back down with a deep groan.

Your head was pounding.

Hungover.

You didn't miss this part of drinking at all.

After a few moments, you slowly opened your eyes, the ceiling looking too unfamiliar.

Glancing down, the color of the sheets wasn't the sky blue you recently changed it into. As a matter of fact, that bed was much bigger than you were used to.

This wasn't your room.

In fact, this wasn't your world.

"What did I do?" you whispered, glancing at the nightstand. You saw the tall glass of water first, then the few pills of aspirin.

It was the framed picture that made you realize where you were.

This was Miguel's room.

Memories from last night came rushing in like a train, using your brain as railroad tracks which made your headache worse.

You quickly gulped down the water and meds, throwing the blankets off of you only to flush at the discovery.

Boxer shorts and a huge jacket—you were wearing his clothes.

Stumbling into the en suite, your heart warmed at the extra toothbrush that was already waiting for you.

You quickly made yourself as presentable as possible before making your way to the only place you knew he would be at this time of day.

First to clock in, last to clock out.

The platform was already down when you got there.

It was as if he was waiting for you.

"Morning, sleepy head," Miguel greeted without looking away from the screens.

"Good morning," you responded shyly. You picked at the hem of his jacket, second-guessing your choice of not changing out of it.

You honestly didn't know where to even begin.

As if sensing your discomfort, he turned his chair to face you.

Something flashed in his eyes for a brief moment, something primal as he regarded your figure. It was gone the next second you might as well have imagined it.

"Come here," he murmured, reaching out both hands for you to take.

Walking over to him, you slipped your hands into his, the platform beginning its ascend once you did.

You gasped in surprise when he suddenly pulled you onto his lap.

He placed your hands on his shoulders, his strong fingers curling around your waist.

You couldn't look him far too long in the eyes.

It felt like you'd combust if you did.

"What, now you're shy?" he teased, smirking freely. It was a good improvement, but you didn't know if your heart could take it having him smile at you like that. "You didn't seem to have a problem with this last night."

"Don't remind me," you groaned, hiding your face between your hands.

Miguel chuckled.

God this was so new.

It felt like you were drunk all over again—no sense of what was real and what was all in your head.

But with the soft squeeze on your waist, and the gentle fingers circling around your wrists, pulling your hands away from your face, you knew this was as real as it was going to get.

"What else do you remember?" he asked, thumbs drawing random shapes on the insides of your wrist.

You scrunched up your face. "Everything?"

He hummed, leaning a little closer to nudge the tip of your nose with his, urging you to keep your eyes on him.

"I have no idea how to do this…relationship thing. It's been a while," he started, a faint blush on his cheeks that made him so much more endearing. "But I'm willing to try this—with you."

Your heart grew ten times its size, you were sure of it.

"Yeah?"

He nodded, kissing your knuckles. "If you'll let me."

"We'll figure it out together," you said, holding his face in your hands with a smile.

"I'd like that," he whispered, grin turning cheeky. "On one condition."

"What?" Your brows furrowed.

"Morning kisses are mandatory."

You let out a hearty laugh, sound quick to turn into giggles when Miguel pressed his lips against yours.

It didn't take long for things to get heated.

You were picking up right where you left off last night, a little further given that alcohol wasn't in the equation anymore.

Yet with the way Miguel's hands were roaming your body, grabbing and groping whatever he could reach, tongue hot and heavy as it slipped past your lips, his deep groans vibrating against your palms as you rested it on his chest, his kisses moving their way onto the warm skin on your neck, softly nipping, tongue soothing—it was far more dizzying than any modified alcohol and then some.

It was a familiar voice that broke you off this time.

"Ahem! Uh, hello, I'm here!" It echoed from below. "The baby, too, by the way. So make sure you're…uhm, decent when you bring that thing down."

Miguel pulled away with an annoyed groan, eyes landing on the floating figure that appeared behind you.

If he could kill Lyla with one look—

"What?" she exclaimed. "I didn't say anything!"

"She didn't! You guys just weren't particularly…quiet," Peter B. defended on her behalf, chuckling. "And this place has the worst echo."

"Yeah, that's your fault," you whispered against his lips, pecking him one last time before getting off his lap.

He wasn't particularly happy about that either.

You pushed the button before he could say anything, the platform descending, smiling at him all innocent.

"I'm not done with you," he warned, voice deep with lust it made your whole body tingle.

"I'm counting on it." You winked, hopping off the platform before he could even respond.

Mayday landed in your arms before you could take a step.

"Hi, beautiful girl!" you greeted cheerfully, her chubby cheeks lifting as she giggled at you. "

"I wouldn't rush it," you heard Peter say.

"What?" Miguel gritted, still so annoyed.

"I know you're thinking about having a baby with her."

You bit back a laugh.

The utter silence from Miguel made it so much harder.

"You know nothing," he grumbled.

"Maybe," Peter chuckled, patting him on the back. "About time you made your move though."

Miguel grumbled something incoherent and turned back towards the screen.

Still, you caught the smile he was trying to hide.

It made you warm and fuzzy inside.

You walked over to him with Mayday in your arms. "Say hi to Uncle Miggy!"

Always your best accomplice, Mayday made grabby hands at him, blubbering, "Middy! Middy!"

Miguel sighed, carefully taking Mayday from you, before giving her a soft smile—the only other person he wasn't grumpy to. "Hello, peanut."

She giggled in response, climbing onto his shoulders, settling on them with her arms above his head. She always loved being so tall.

Miguel shot you a glare then, no heat to it at all. If anything, it was filled with pure fondness.

You grinned at him.

"You're a bad influence," he whispered to you.

"I don't think I am, Middy," you teased, standing on your tippy toes to place a kiss on his lips.

The way he suddenly turned flustered was adorable.

And when Mayday made a yucky sound, and Peter B. laughed, you knew your work of teasing him for the day was done.

"Come on, bub, let's go get you ice cream," you called, the little girl giggling in delight before jumping into your arms. You sent Miguel a wink before leaving him to deal with his beloved friend's teasing. Peter was practically waiting for this moment.

Many people regretted what they had done while drunk, especially when it involved something embarrassing.

Not you.

You regret nothing at all.

✫*｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ♛ *.

↬ thank you for reading lovely! reblog & leave a comment if you enjoyed! feedback is always appreciated!

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© t-lostinworlds, 2023 ✘ I do NOT give any permission to repost, translate, & use any of my works (writings, gifs, dividers, etc.) on any platform, with credit or otherwise. Please respect that. Thank you.

[theyluvlyss]

hi! i was wondering if you could write dating hc's for duncan and courtney (separate) please?

𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐨 𝐝𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐚𝐧 !

but unfortunately, I do not currently write for courtney :(. although, I hope you like what I do have written and that it doesn't discourage you from requesting in the future :).

𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫

《 ♡ 》 headcannons

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 :

you went on this stupid, island, reality show to win $100,000, which could've most definitely changed your life for the better. but instead, you got a delinquent meat-head who had... somehow, earned your heart faster than the cash. "how" and "why" is beyond you. but at least you could come up with a list of some semi-convincing reasons as to such...

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 :

fem!reader x duncan - she/her/hers pronouns

𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞 :

season one (total drama island)

𝐓𝐖/𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 :

harsh language/cursing - dangerous elements/themes mentioned - duncan being himself lmao (possibly a little ooc? I apologize if so) - established romantic relationship - casual dominance (cuz ik that can irk some people) - possessive terms (my, his, etc).

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

When you applied/auditioned to be on the show, you didn't actually think they'd pick you. It was a stupid dare amongst friends back home! No way would they pick some random girl with no experience or even a resume from (home/town/city).

And then, they did😃.

Next thing you know, you're being flown out to Canada and then dropped off from a yacht on some random, deserted island. Just your luck to apply for a scammy and sketchy reality show rather than what you were promised...

And, to top it all off, your host might as well have been a sociopath, your chef, a psychopath, and you were now forced to spend your time with twenty-two other lunatic teenagers for eight weeks. Eight. Weeks. To be fully and completely clear, you did not want to be here.

How could this get any worse?

Duncan. That's how.

He irked you at first. No, you didn't hate him. He actually had his moments where you found him quite funny with a sarcastic quip he had said or entertaining with some random stunt he pulled.

But other than that...

"I'm not jumping. I miss the safe zone and get eaten alive by sharks, and then what?"

"Oh'ho, you're jumping, sweetheart. I'll be damned if you lose this challenge for us because you're not a strong swimmer."

"That's not what I said. And what're you gonna do? Make me?"

...you were firm on your dislike for him.

Not that the feelings weren't reciprocated, of course. Though he wasn't exactly opposed to eying any pretty girls he happened to come across, he didn't intend to date. He came to win $100,000, just like the rest of them. And though he had grown used to the way your attitude struck any and everyone who tried to manipulate you into doing something you didn't want to do, at least you weren't Courtney, stick shoved up your butt.

Onto the more headcanon-y portion of this list...

I feel like Duncan actually wouldn't be opposed to random hookups or anything like that. But, once he has specific eyes for someone, he treats things as if he's already bagged them (manifesting king😻✨️). And in this case, them is you. He didn't get the hots right away, but after a couple of weeks or so of spending basically all of his time around you (being on the same team and all), he wasn't too surprised upon coming to terms with those feelings.

Not that you could exactly tell, with him running around calling you "sweetheart" and "angel-face" and whatever other petnames he could come up with on the fly. You figured it was just him being...well... Duncan! Not to mention, you weren't exactly all that fond of him.

Did he know that? Yes. Did he care? Ehh. You'd warm up. He'd actually make sure of it because even if the show didn't end with him either winning the money or getting you as a girlfriend, the least he'd accomplish is wooing you.

He's not gonna sacrifice his reputation for that, so he'd have to play it cool. And during the seventh challenge, an opportunity came to light; he'd help you concor your fear! Not only would it win your team the challenge, but it'd be a huge step into winning over your heart. With peering eyes (and cameras around), he was there to be your tough-love.

"Get over it, toots, it's just (your/fear)!!"

"Do not mess this up for us, or I'll guarantee you go home tonight."

"I've been in juvie with worse than this...!"

But, without any evidence to prove it besides your word and a blushing face, he was totally sweet on you.

"C'mere, sweetheart, it ain't that bad. You just need a little warming up to the idea, that's all~."

"The worst that could happen is you'll be called a chicken. It's not like you'll get voted off. Not while I'm here."

"Babe, you are entirely too cool to be skeezed out by (your/fear). We're gonna have to work on that, yeah?"

Him sling-shotting you through such emotions and behavior was intense. But not as much as the way it kept you hooked. And every time you would start to grow fed up, want nothing to do with him, even cuss him out...

Life (Chris McLean) would manage to thrust you two back together. Until, eventually, you got together. I mean, no official labels or anything yet, but god forbid another guy on either team just breathed sultry in your direction (coughCodyprobablycough). Or if you got hurt during a challenge. Or whenever anyone (butmostlikelyHeather) had it out for you.

And in those moments, I think Duncan wouldn't be as good as hiding his infatuation with you. Not that anyone actually had the gall to tease him for it. Besides, he had managed to make his admiration for you look cool. Always muttering a slick, "She wants me." to his guy friends, or smirking at any intimate reaction you'd give him in front of your peers.

All in all, he's a cocky shit. But he made it work in a charming way that you couldn't quite place, and made you wonder why you were even attracted to it/him at all.

And, surprisingly, he could be quite the gentlemen. Rough around the edges, sure, but see if you ever have to hold a door open for yourself or climb down from something without his hand being offered to you ever again.

He even makes sure to censor himself around you! Er- well, tries. If he deems a curse word too heavy for you to hear come flying out of his mouth, it goes a little something like this:

" ...So I rush 'im, right? And then can you believe the motherfucker-...! Sorry, babe. Can you believe this idiot actually tries to shank me?! Wild stuff, man..."

As if he's not already sitting around the campfire telling the most gorey juvie/jail story ever. But nope, the extra heavy cuss words are the stuff that's impolite for your ears🙄✋🏽.

#it'sthethoughtthatcounts♡.

OH!! And casual dominance? Definitely a thing in the relationship. Mainly from him, with a simple, "C'mere, doll." or a motion of the hand/finger over towards him. But let's not lie and say this dude isn't a sucker for the moments you boss him around...

"Duncan, go grab that for me, please?"

"I'm busy-"

"Now."

. . .

No further protest, your item retrieved and dropped into your hands with swiftness, and a light red dust on his face badly hidden under a scowl.

Things would get serious/official if one of you two got voted off of the island, though. If you got voted off, he'd be sure to give you the most profound goodbye he can in the very limited amount of time he has to actually say it. Make it very clear you're his girl, "...for anyone thinkin' about trying to make a move while I'm not around." And, he promises that if he wins, he's coming for you, and you'll run off together with the money. Cliche, but how could you say no?

If he gets voted off, he sticks on a brave face and basically threatens you to win lmao😭. Think of it as very intense encouragement coming from a deep down place of love.

"Babe, you better win this whole shit, 'cuz I'm gonna be rooting for you back home. Need these losers to see that my girl is the shit."

I could probably go on forever, but I don't want to make this too long :')...

𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 !!

this is my first post (as in writing/content) ever, so yay me :D ! and for the person that requested, again, I hope you enjoyed this 'cuz it was fun to write ! although I really don't like the title, but I couldn't think of anything better😭...

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

none :(

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐲 :

anon <3

𝐓𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 :

[noahvember]

Noahvember 2024 Official Prompt List

The time has come! We've tallied your votes and put together our prompt list for this year's event! More information about this year's Noahvember can be found below. Without further ado, here's this year's prompt list! (Remember to click on the photo for better quality!)

Noahvember 2024 will start at midnight EST on November 17th and end on November 23rd. Submissions will only be reblogged during this week, but we welcome you to create entries even after the event has ended.

You voted for our prompts, and here's what you had to say! We've got some old favorites from last year and some new ones too, so take a look!

Sunday, Nov. 17th | Slice of Life Sunday Soulmates / Sick Day / High School or College

Monday, Nov. 18th | Behind the Scenes Assistant Noah / Actor AU / Playa Des Losers

Tuesday, Nov. 19th | Teamwork Tuesday Team E-Scope / Team Chris is Really (x4) Hot / Reality TV Bros.

Wednesday, Nov. 20th | What If? Wednesday Canon Divergence / Personality or Role Swap / Finalist Noah

Thursday, Nov. 21st | Throwback Thursday Total Drama World Tour / Past & Future / Greek Mythology

Friday, Nov. 22nd | London Calling Vampires / Horror / I See London...

Saturday, Nov. 23rd | All About Noah Free Day!

There's three prompts per day to choose from (with the exception of Saturday) leaving eighteen prompts to pick and choose from! It's up to you! Pick one of the three for the day, or if you're feeling crazy, combine all three!

Like last year, we'll be spending the weeks leading up to the event breaking down some of the prompts. Don't understand a prompt or need some inspiration? We'll be breaking them down and hopefully answering your questions!

Remember to tag your works with #noahvember and #noahvember2024. Works can be posted here or other social media sites. An AO3 Collection will be added shortly if you'd like to submit your works there as well.

Our FAQ is linked in our bio for further rules/information on the event. If you have any other questions, submit to our ask box and we'll be sure to answer! And thanks to everyone who's participated in our Google Forms! Continue to spread the word and reblog our posts! We can't wait to see what you have in store this Noahvember!

[doglover502]

Been writing a Nowen Romeo and Juliet AU, with the most Canadian family feud conflict possible

[staarlight-snow]

Murky Waters - Island of the Slaughtered

TW: Gore, Horror

[Inspired by "last thoughts - Noah Mudaliar" by muridaecorps (on Ao3) and Island of the Slaughtered by @eavee-ry ]

Silence.

It was so silent it was as if nothing had happened. The wind blew gently against the leaves as the moonlight shone down into the pond. The crimson-tinted water glistened under the rays of the moon.

It was unfair. He would've enjoyed this view. The solitude and silence of the forest, the way the moonlight hit the water just right.

It was unfair. He could be sitting atop a rock, reading his favourite novel – far away from the nuisances and noise that was the camp and his peers but no. Instead of sitting in front of the serene view, enjoying his solitude and short-lived peace – his body floated lifelessly in the pond.

The only thing that ruined this ethereal and dream-like scenery was that of the body of a teenage boy that was cheated from his life. It was unfair. There was no denying, he was far different from other teenagers, yes but just like most of them – he had dreams, he had hopes and aspirations. Everyone did, of course.

So it was unfair. Everything was unfair. This isn't supposed to happen. No one was supposed to get hurt. If he could – he'd find Chris and make him pay for abandoning them on this goddamned island.

The silence in his surroundings was disturbed by the sudden rustling of bushes. The frantic sounds of someone's footsteps ran in closer to the pond. Then, there was a voice.

"Noah?" A voice called out, a tone of worry and fear. It continued to call his name, over and over again, getting louder by the second. What kind of fool would deliberately risk his life to find a snarky, sarcastic know-it-all?

"Noah! Please! Where are you?" It was Cody. His voice cracked as he shouted his friend's name more and louder. The lake came into his view and he stopped in his tracks. He gripped the blood-stained book in his hands harder as his eyes widened at the sight that unfolded before him. "A-ah.." His heart dropped and his breathing stopped for what seemed like a full minute.

A loud gut-wrenching scream erupted from the brunette. He fell to his knees – his eyes welled up with tears as he started to shakenly hyperventilate.

"Cody! Oh my god you're okay!" A person followed from behind, embracing the shorter in a hug. "I thought the killer got to you! Are you insane!? I know you're worried 'bout Noah but-" They were cut-off from their words when they caught a glimpse of the murky crimson stained water in front of them.

The person with him, Gwen, comforted the boy. They weren't close the first few days and she honestly found him like an annoying little brother but as the nights passed and the more murders took place – she found herself as an older sister figure to the other. She couldn't possibly imagine what Cody is going through but she knew how heart-broken he probably is right now.

"Cody… I'm sorry.." Gwen spoke, "But we can't stay here. It's not safe." She stood up, gesturing for the other to do so as well. Cody followed. His mind was clouded, it was empty but somehow it was full of thoughts. It was too much to process, it was too overwhelming.

It was unfair.

--

Part 2

Sequel

i needed to practice more on my writing and im very obsessed w this au rn!! i dont rlly write fanfics esp on this acc but we'll let this one slide 🕴️

[cutepastelstarsalior]

Can’t sleep so here’s: alenoah fanfiction memes pt 2

Not super specific on the fanfiction this time; but the ones I had in mind when doing this are:

The Alejandro Hate Club by brick_broze165

An insulting difference by drowzeee

Collateral by astrokyle

World Weary by Mpaigeu

Noah Sterecra and the All-Stars by vampicie

The less I know the better by 0800coochiedestroyer

The Schemer by kaeborii

Bittersweet Love by splattunes

With a Little Help from My Friends by cinna (cinnamas)

World Tour if the Writers Weren’t Cowards and Let it be Gay by anonymous

[gaytotaldrama]

duncney week day 4 (a day late): first 'i love you'

an unsent letter from C to D, years after the end of the show.

duncney song of the day: 'i've got your number,' elbow

also on my ao3!

Dear Dunc

To whom it may conce

For the idiot with the green mohawk

Duncan, 

I don't go to therapy, but Bridgette does, and she told me about this exercise her therapist set her where you write down everything you want to say to someone in a letter and then you don't send it. Therapy would take up way too much of my time, yet here I am on my bed, writing to you of all people.

It's been years since we last saw each other, or even spoke - since they carted you off the island and tossed you into some disgusting cell. I'm sure you're already aware, but destroying Chris's house was a really  stupid  idea. I understand that you were trying to prove your "villain status" or whatever, but all I could think about watching you leave was DJ and his rabbit. It made me feel  sick,  seeing what happened to you. Gwen and I pretended to be happy about it, but I don't think either of us were at all. 

I know she called once or twice, while you were in there. I know Geoff and DJ came to visit you. I know Bridgette sent you little care baskets through the mail.

I know I never did any of those things. It all hurt so much, still. And even when it didn't, I never figured out what I would say to you.

But now, I have an idea. More or less.

However angry I was with you after you and Gwen kissed, it didn't mean I wanted to see you thrown in  prison.  I know I can be petty and vengeful at my lowest moments, but I always imagined you'd be eliminated in some humiliating spectacle. You'd go home. And we'd never have to see each other again, unless Owen ever decided to throw that reunion bash he was talking about.

And then when that bash happened, you were locked up again for violating your parole. And you weren't there.

I thought about filling these pages with all the reasons you were awful to me, every nitpick and tiny detail that made me hate your guts. But it's not like I was the perfect girlfriend, either. And, Duncan, we were just  kids.  None of us knew what we were doing, what it was we even wanted. Chris knew that and he used it against us every which way, exploiting us on international television.

I don't know if I really forgive you yet. I guess I'd have to see you in person to know. I've spent most of my time post-Total Drama working to forgive myself. Which has worked. Somewhat, at least.

Geoff says you're in Seattle. He says you're working as a tattoo artist. He says you go to AA meetings every week at the recreational center. That's good. That's really good, Duncan.

I work. Sanford, Sanford & Patel - started as a secretary, but I've clawed my way up a bit since then. Helped win some major cases. Hopefully it won't be long before they're adding a Reyes up on that sign.

Bridgette, Geoff, and I have game night every Wednesday evening. We take turns cooking dinner. Sometimes Bridgette slides me a CBD gummy to help me fall asleep at night. I jog, in the mornings. When I can, I go to the gym. Every now and then, I pick up Geoff's guitar and strum it a little. I still remember when you taught me my first bar chord. I couldn't make a  sound  on the B minor then, but I've gotten better, now. I've really gotten better.

I have a cat. This little precocious furball that Bridgette brought back from the shelter. She likes to claw at my nice leather desk chair and she doesn't like strangers at all; I adore her. Her name is Scruffy.

Every couple of months, I fly out to visit Gwen in Vancouver. They showed me the inky moon you put on their collarbone - I think it's beautiful. We go and get coffee together, catch up. She's got an art exhibition down in Bellingham in the fall - I plan to go, but I don't know if you'll be there. I don't know if I want you to be or not.

I've had a few boyfriends, but none of them could keep up with me. One time, Gwen and I got drunk and slept together. I'm not sure why I'm telling you this, but it was kind of good. Which is kind of funny. To me, at least.

Oh, and Geoff and Bridgette are engaged. Which I guess you already knew. It only just happened, so there are no real plans yet, you know those two. Never once made a list in their lives. But I guess if you're not at Gwen's show, we'll see each other at the wedding.

Would you talk to me? If we met again, would you even talk to me? I like to think I'd talk to you. But it's a hell of a lot easier to say it in writing than it is to do it in person.

Would you miss me?

I've missed you. I know people say you never stay with your high school sweetheart, but look at G and B, case in point. We didn't stay together, but sometimes I imagine what it would have been like if we had. Where we'd be right now.

Damn it, ok, I'm just going to say it: I love you. We never got around to telling that to each other while we were dating, but I think it's always been true, since all the way back in season one. I love you, Duncan Russo. It's totally humiliating, but I do. I still really, really do.

And I wish you were

Maybe if I

And I guess there's nothing to be done about that. Over a decade, and I'm still hung up on the boy who I kissed in the back of the Killer Bass cabin, right after puking my guts out. There's only so many people who would kiss someone with vomit breath, but you did. You didn't care. I mean, it was totally disgusting, but you kissed me back. I'll always remember the way you kissed me back.

Just...I just hope you're ok, ok? Or if not, then that you're something close to it. That show screwed every single one of us over, some more than others. The shit Chris did to us was messed up, and if I could go back and time and withdraw my audition tape, I would.

But then I guess I'd never have met you. And I don't know if that would be better or worse for me in the long run.

Thank God you'll never see this letter. 

Love,

Courtney

[lenoeninade]

feeding the people more noahzeke art

i love these guys you don’t understand 😖

og under cut

[bobi200samatar]

For the Pahkitew Island rewrite, I got to design swimsuits for this poor kids since they never got any in the canon season. I even gave swimsuits for the characters who never got to wear them due to being eliminated before the season's water challenge.

Here's the most recent episode: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38803350/chapters/142130506

Episode 11 coming soon!

[luk4-luk1]

*Ensemble comes*

"LOATHINGGGGGGGGG"