#the driver's license scene took me OUT

[lovelaceisntdead]

Oh my GOD season 2 Bette is pissing me OFF where does she get off talking to Sophie like that???

[fangirl-dot-com]

Grill the Grid

Guys, I'm sorry this is so short. I've had a bout of writers block but still wanted to get another chapter out. I will be going back to working on the regular chapters soon! But enjoy this take on Grill the Grid!

Like always - comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and likes are appreciated! Much love :D

Key for this chapter: regular text - just normal speaking bold - words on the flip boards italics - scene change bold italics - the narrator lady

Episode One: Radio Show 

A quick snapshot of each driver shows up before the opening title of “Grill the Grid” crosses the screen. 

You quickly showed up and clapped your hands. 

“Welcome ladies and gents to another season of Grill the Grid.” You showed a cheeky smile as you winked to the camera. 

“Can you please state your name and what team you drive for?” 

You sighed as you thought. “Christian is going to kill me if I can't remember all of it.” You looked back at the camera. “My name is Y/n L/n and I drive for the Honda RBPT Oracle Red Bull Racing Formula One Team.” 

“That is correct.” 

Your eyes widened as you started to laugh. “I didn’t think I’d get that.” 

The lady behind the camera smiled. “Max didn’t get the entire thing.” 

You stared at the camera like you were on the office before turning to someone off camera to the side. “Do I get a point for that?” 

The video now cut to Max. 

Max had his hands on his side, head down before he looked back up. 

He had a nervous smile as he tried to think. “Yeah, I don’t know. Red Bull Racing?” He shrugged as multiple people around him laughed. 

“It’s actual Honda RBPT Oracle Red Bull Racing.” 

Max rolled his eyes. “How is anyone supposed to remember that?” 

“Y/n did.” 

“Of course.” 

Words flashed on the screen signaling to viewers the actual start of the episode. Multiple familiar faces showed as they all stood next to a board with multiple flaps of paper. 

Lando smugly looked at the title and then to the camera. “I got this in the bag.” 

“How do you think you’ll do?” 

Oscar was now on screen. “Uhhhhh.” He didn’t have time to answer.

“I think I’ll do ok. I’m not too familiar with other team’s radios, but I can try?” A red-clad Monegasque questioned himself. 

The drivers all flipped the first page.

--He better get me more stroopwaffles after that. Asshole--  

You flipped the first page and barely glanced at it before answering. “Lando.” 

“Lando.” Max also flipped.

Oscar, Daniel, Charles, and Carlos at once, “Lando.” 

Lando just stared into the camera. “Me?” 

You smiled back at the camera. “This was at Zandvoort right? After Max kinda bumped him.” 

“He pushed me off the track! Bumped is an understatement.” Lando now flipped the next page and leaned back to laugh. “Y/n.” 

--Speed. I am Speed. One winner, 19 losers. I eat losers for breakfast--

Max, once again, barely glanced before answering, “Y/n.” 

Lance looked around trying to get a hint. He couldn’t find one. “Logan? I know he’s watched the Cars movies.” 

Logan laughed as well before shaking his head. “Y/n.” 

“Me.” Your face flushed red. “Truthfully, I didn’t know the radio was on.” 

Oscar made a noise as he thought. “I want to say Logan because he recently watched that. But my heart wants to say Y/n.” 

“Is that your final answer.” 

“Yes.” 

“That’s correct.” 

Fernando, Carlos, Daniel, and Alex flipped the page. “Y/n.” 

--This is what she gets for telling me to use my mirrors. AHA! Does she even have her driver’s license?-- 

“Aha! This is Daniel.” You stood looking at the next page. “So in quali, he almost hit me in turn four during my flying lap and I told him to use his mirrors in the race. Well, he overtook me in the first lap and I fell behind.” Your smile disappeared as you looked right into the camera. “And yes, I have my driver’s license.” 

Daniel almost fell to his knees as he read the next one. His gummy smile almost took over his face. “This is me to Y/n.” 

Max just looked lost. “Who said this?” 

“Daniel.”

“Oh.”  

 

Episode Two: Champions Part 2

“So do you know what’s next?” 

You looked confused as you looked around the empty space. “Well there’s no board here?” 

Charles shrugged. “It could be anything. I certainly hope that this season we won’t have to list the champions in some order again.” 

Max looked around with a confused look. “Again?” 

Lewis rolled his eyes. “Man I knew I should have gone back and actually memorized them.” 

“There’s no way someone is getting all of them. Sebastian is gone.” Lando shrugged. 

It was now back to Charles who looked a bit more pale. A loud beep sounded on a views screen as he looked down. 

You once again clapped. “I knew all those Wikipedia pages would come in handy. Are we starting from newest to oldest or oldest to newest.” 

“Any way you want.” 

You looked up in thought as you started to list. “Ok. Max was in 2023, 2022, 2021. Then Lewis in 2020, 2019, 1028, 2017. Nico won in 2016 then it was back to Lewis in ’15 and ’14. Seb won from 2013 to 2010…” 

Max sighed before he started. “Uh, me in 2023 to 2021. Then Lewis until 2014.” 

“Incorrect. Nico won in 2016.” 

Max hummed. “Uh, Nico in ’16. Then Lewis to ’14. I know Seb won in 2013.” 

It was back to you. “And then Michael Schumacher again in 2010, which was his first with Ferrari. Then it was Hakkinen in ’99 and ’98. Uh, Villeneuve in 1997 who was preceded by Hill in 1996. Then it was back to Schumi in ’95 and ’94.”

Lando looked lost. 

Charles was still pale but he tried. “It was Max, Lewis, Nico, Lewis again. Then Seb then Lewis again?” 

“You’re forgetting another Mercedes Driver.” 

Charles looked even more confused. “Uh.” 

“Jensen Button in 2009.” 

“He was in Mercedes?” Charles just ended up walking off. 

Back to you. “Mario Andretti was the last American in 1978. Niki and Hunt danced around from 1977 to 1976. Then it was Fittipaldi, Stewart, Fittpaldi, Stewart, Rindt, Stewart respectfully in 1975, 1974, 1973, 1972, 1971, and 1970.” 

Oscar looked as if he was having a stroke. 

Logan ran a hand down his face. “I only know Andretti in 1978 and then Phil Hill in 1961. You know. Go America!” 

Fernando tried but couldn’t get past the nineties. Yet he had a smile on his face. “Y/n got all of these right, correct?” 

“She was the only one.”  

“Shut up, no she wasn’t.” Lando didn’t believe it. 

“Of course she did.” Max could only chuckle. “She would brag and brag about this in the plane.” 

“And then Ascari in 1952, then Fangio in 1951, and finally Farina in 1950!” You had a proud look on your face. “I knew I could do it. Did I miss any?” 

“Nope.”  

Episode Three: Guess These Headlights 

Charles, who had now recovered from his bout of PTSD, suddenly looked excited. “Now here is something I can do.” 

“Are you a car guy?” 

“Definitely.” Carlos responded with a smug look. “I grew up around cars.” 

“I mean. I know my McLarens?” Oscar questioned. “This is going to be hard.” 

Lando looked ready. “Let’s get this going.” 

You looked determined. “Bring it on.” You flipped the first page. “Ah. That’s a classic. A Ferrari F40.” You turned back to the camera. “If I didn’t have my Porsches, I would have bought an F40.” A far away thoughtful look crossed your face. “Maybe I’ll still get one. I’ll ask Charles. He can get me one.”  

Charles quickly answered “F40” and then flipped. “Ah. This is McLaren P1.” 

“McLaren P1,” Oscar answered. “The logo is in the headlights. Pretty helpful.” 

Daniel flipped the next one and stood back, hands on his hips. “I know Max has this car. But I can’t remember the name.” 

Lance finally looked as though he knew what it was. “This is the Aston Valkyrie.” 

Fernando also guessed it correctly. “Aston Valkyrie.” 

Next, Carlos easily got the next one. “La Ferrari. I wanted one.” 

“Did you get one.” 

Carlos nodded his head before answering. “No.” 

Max flipped through the pages very quickly. “Ah! I know this one. Y/n has two of these. It’s the Porsche 9-11’s.” 

“Y/n’s Porsche. The 9-11 model,” Alex responded. 

“I see these in my garage since Y/n’s apartment didn’t come with one, so she puts her’s in mine. It’s the Porsche 9-11,” Logan had a happy smile as he knew one. The next one, he didn’t know. 

“Not a clue.” Charles, Oscar, and Daniel all said as they flipped. 

Max took a minute to look at the X looking headlights. He hummed. “Y/n was just showing me a TikTok with this car. Says she wants one someday.” 

You had a giant grin on your face as you looked at the headlights. 

“Do you know what this car is?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Of course I know. It’s the 3 million dollar Ferrari V12 Engine Apollo Project Evo. There are currently 10 of them only in the world, and they are all owned.” 

“Do you have one of them?” 

You only smirked as you looked into the camera.

Max still stood next to his board, eyes to the sky as he really thought. His eyebrows raised as he remembered the answer. “This is like...the Apollo E car?” 

“That is correct. Now, does Y/n own one of these? She didn’t give us an answer.” 

Max looked like a deer caught in headlights. “Uh. No comment?”   

  

Episode Four: Random Skills

“Ok. For this challenge you have to guess what driver has this skill.” 

“Easy.” Came from Lando. 

You looked around confused. “I don’t think I have any skills.” 

“Do I even have a skill for them to use?” Lewis questioned himself. 

“First skill. Which driver is known for playing the piano.” 

“Sharl,” you smirked. “Easy.” 

“Charles.” Lance, Fernando, and Daniel all answered. 

“Me.” The Monegasque had a smile on his face. 

Oscar looked up. “Is it Y/n? She looks like she can play the piano.” 

“He said that? I don’t know if that’s a compliment or an insult.” You shrugged. 

“Which drivers claims to be able to hit a hole in one at the Monte Carlo Golf Course.” 

Max rolled his eyes. “I know Lando has claimed, but I’m going to say Carlos.” 

Carlos looked lost. “Me? I don’t know if I’ve said that though. Maybe Lando?” 

Logan answered, “Lando?” 

Lando also looked lost. “Me?” 

“No.” 

“Who is it then?” You questioned. Lando and Carlos had been your guess. 

“It is Pierre Gasly.” 

Lando huffed. “Get out of here.” 

The man in question had a guilty smile. “I forgot I said that. Let’s say it’s still true.”

You looked eager to get on with the game. You wanted to win that trophy. 

“Which driver has set a drive time around the Daytona International Speedway at 1 minute and 40 seconds. Which is only 8 seconds slower than the lap record.” 

“Oh, I didn’t know I would get on here for this category. It’s me right?” 

“Correct, Logan.”  

You took a little while to guess. “I’m gonna say Logan. Sounds like a very American thing to do at Daytona. And his brother drove for NASCAR right?” 

“Correct.”

Your fist pumped the air. 

Oscar looked elated at this question. “It’s Logan. I was there when he did it.” A big smile crossed his face. 

Lance looked around in thought. “Uhhhhh. Lando? I don’t know.” 

Lando also looked happy, as he seemed to know the answer. “It’s Logan right? Yeah, Logan. Final answer.” 

“Are there any geography questions this season, or…” Max drew out the last syllable as he laughed with the others. He suddenly went cold stare. “I’m being serious.” 

“Which driver knows how to moon walk?” 

Fernando squinted his eyes as he thought before shrugging his shoulders. “It’s one of the young ones right? Yuki?” 

Yuki was also as lost as Fernando. “I wish it was me. Maybe Lando? He DJ’s right?” 

“It’s not Lando. But it is a younger driver.” 

“I should know this after she made me play Just Dance for three hours one time. It’s Y/n.” Logan looked put off at his mention of the dance off. 

Oscar also looked bored as he also brought it up. “Yeah, it’s Y/n. I threw Just Dance out after she left. No more.” 

Max rubbed his face. “She plays it with P whenever she comes over. They play the same one over and over again. Y/n.” 

Charles had a far off look, like one of an older man who suddenly was hit with PTSD from war. He whispered, “We don’t mention moonwalk. Not after her and Arthur…” He never finished as he walked off again. 

You had a shit-eating grin on your face. “Me! And I tried to teach it to Oscar, Lando, Logan, Max, Charles, Arthur…” You just seemed to keep going and going. They finally had to stop you before you kept going on about the Just Dance discography. 

Bloopers

You stood in front of the camera with one of the que things that snap. “And action! Do you even say that anymore? And I thought this was an actual set. I might have cried when I saw the green screen.” 

Beep 

The camera showed Max creeping in as you continued listing all of the champions in order. He looked over at the camera like was on the office. “Is she still going?” 

Beep

Logan kept touching his hair and the makeup lady would slap his hands away to fix it. “NASCAR drivers don’t have to go through this. I bet they don’t have to list all the freaking Formula 1 champions in order.” He leaned in and made a gesture. “See. All they have to do is kiss a brick and they get one when they win.” 

Beep 

Oscar smiled as he looked around, honestly excited to get this over with. “I think I’m finally ready for redemption. This should be easy.” 

The camera cut to him after ever he finished filming. “I take it back. That was not easy. You guys really need to find better questions.” 

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[delusionalfanficwriter]

accident

The morning sun cast a soft glow over the streets of Seattle as Y/N drove to her training session for USWNT. The familiar scent of coffee filled the air, but her mind was focused on the upcoming game and the challenges that lay ahead. As she approached an intersection, the traffic light turned red, forcing her to come to a stop.

Just as the light turned green, Y/N accelerated, her mind still occupied with thoughts of tactics and strategy for the game. The intersection was busy, cars moving in various directions. However, in the blink of an eye, a distracted driver ran a red light, colliding with Y/N's car from the side.

The impact sent Y/N's car spinning, metal crunching against metal. The sudden jolt left her disoriented, the world spinning around her. As the chaos unfolded, she heard the distant wail of sirens, and through the haze, she saw the familiar faces of Maya hopping out of the fire truck and the Station 19 team rushing to the scene before her eyes started to close shut. 

Maya takes in the scene,  her eyes fall on the license plate number she has seen dozens of times. Her mind jumps to y/n, who she knows is in Seattle for the game coming up later in the week. The y/n who she and Carina took under their wing after she showed up several times to clinic days. They opened their home for her until she was steady enough to be on her own and when she isn’t with USWNT she is home in the UK playing for Arsenal. 

Panic and concern etched across her face, as she sprinted towards Y/N's car. Reaching the damaged vehicle, she instantly saw y/n out cold. Reaching for the door handle, it wouldn’t budge. “Fuck! Guys it’s y/n. We need the jaws of life to remove the door and maybe even windshield for more access.” Travis went to grab it as Warren and Andy came with the med bag as they were on Aid car 19. “Y/n, I’m not sure if you can hear me but I need you to try to open your eyes. It’s Maya. You are going to be okay.”

Maya makes the decision to break the backseat window and enter through there before crawling front to the passenger seat. Andy did the same but remained behind y/n as she helped stabilize her neck with a c-collar after Maya checked for a pulse. 

With all the hands touching her, y/n started to stir awake, moaning in pain. “Shhh. Y/n, it’s going to be okay, just try to remain still for us.”

Hearing the familiar voice, y/n turned her head as much as possible with the collar on to the source. “Cap…” She whispered.

“Hey there, kiddo. You took quite a big hit. Andy and I are in the car with you. Can you tell me if you are in pain and where?” Maya scans over y/n as y/n thinks the question through. 

“Um. My head is pounding and the light makes it worse. Chest might be bruised… Maya…” y/n’s facial expression changes into a panicked one. 

“Y/n, what’s wrong?... Y/n talk to me…”

“...legs… I- I can’t feel my legs. Maya- no no…” Y/n begins to spiral as realization hits her. 

“Y/n, I need you to listen to me and breathe. We will figure it out but don’t focus on that right now. I need you to get your breathing under control.”

Warren assisted Travis in preparing the jaws of life while Maya focused on Y/N's immediate needs. Andy opened the med bag, retrieving equipment to monitor vital signs. 

"Y/N, I need you to stay with me. Andy's going to monitor your vital signs, and we'll make sure you're as comfortable as possible," Maya explained, her voice a steady presence in the chaos. “Nice deep breaths.”

Andy secured an IV line, administering fluids to address potential shock. Maya continued to assess Y/N's chest and abdomen, searching for any signs of internal injuries. 

"Good job, Andy. Let's keep an eye on those vitals. Y/N, I need you to let me know if anything feels off or if the pain increases," Maya directed, her focus unwavering. “Y/n pay attention to me. Eyes on me. We will worry about your legs when we pull you out.”

“Cap, my legs are everything. You know that.”

“I know, Y/n, I promise I know.” Maya is reminded of how soccer saved Y/N life and helped lift her from her rough past. 

As Maya reassured Y/N, the situation took a dire turn. A faint hissing sound emerged from beneath the wreckage, followed by the acrid smell of gas. Maya's heart sank as she realized the danger they were in.

"Warren, Travis, we've got a gas leak! We need to get Y/N out of here, now!" Maya's voice cut through the chaos, urgency evident in every word. With adrenaline coursing through their veins, the team intensified their efforts.

Travis and Warren redoubled their efforts with the jaws of life, while Andy swiftly prepared Y/N for extraction, mindful of the looming threat of fire. Maya coordinated the rescue operation with precision, her training kicking in as she assessed the risks and devised a plan.

Suddenly, a spark ignited the volatile atmosphere, and flames erupted, engulfing the front of the car. Time seemed to slow as panic surged through the team. Without hesitation, Maya made a split-second decision.

"Grab Y/N, we're getting her out, now!" Maya commanded, her voice unwavering despite the inferno raging around them. With synchronized movements, Andy and Maya carefully lifted Y/N, their actions swift yet deliberate.

“Stop it-it hurts! Maya, stop!” Y/n screamed and cried as her body was hastily carried out of the vehicle. 

“I’m sorry, Y/n but we need to leave now!” Maya screamed over the chaos. As they lifted y/n out and placed her on the stretcher, they ran as Vic and Jack foamed over the gas leak. 

“Leah… I was on a call with Leah before.” Y/n suddenly remembered having her girlfriend on the other end of the line before the crash. 

“Don’t worry, I will call her, right now.” Maya climbed into the back of the ambulance, her eyes never leaving Y/N. "You're doing great, Y/N. We're right here with you," she said, her voice filled with reassurance.

Andy followed suit, bringing the medical bag and equipment into the confined space of the ambulance. Y/N's eyes darted between Maya and Andy, seeking comfort in their familiar faces amidst the uncertainty.

“Speaking of the devil, Leah is facetiming me.” Maya says unlocking her phone but as the ambulance doors closed, Y/N's panic resurfaces. The confined space and the realization of the severity of the situation weighed heavily on her. "Maya, I can't... I can't breathe. It's too much," Y/N gasped, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

Maya quickly grabbed an oxygen mask from the medical bag. "Y/N, slow your breathing. This will help," she said, placing the mask gently over Y/N's face. "Deep breaths. In and out."

“What’s happening? Maya what happened to Y/n?!” Leah yelled through the phone panicked by Y/n’s panic. 

“Y/n look who I have on the phone, wanting to see you.” Maya tries to distract the woman in front of her. Y/n pauses for a second to see her blurred girlfriend on the screen.

“Baby, you’re going to be okay, Maya is with you and I am sure Carina will meet you in the hospital. I’ll be on the next plane over.” Leah reassured y/n. 

“Leahhh,” Y/n cried. “I can’t - can’t feel my legs. I’m so scared.” Leah pauses and a panic look crosses over her eye but she tries to remain as calm as possible. 

“Wait until the doctor’s check you out, it could just be from slight inflammation. Just focus on what Maya says. She is with you and looks like Andy is there too. You are gonna be fine, baby just remain calm.” 

“Leah, we are pulling into the ambulance bay in a minute so I am going to hang up and get her sorted for the medical staff. I’ll call you back as soon as I can.” Maya tells Leah knowing how protective she is of her girlfriend. With that Leah gives another word of love to Y/n before canceling the call. 

“I texted Carina as well, I am not sure if she’s in surgery or not but she’ll come to find us once she sees it.” Maya informs y/n knowing she is able to calm down more when Carina is around. “We are almost there, but it’s going to get chaotic. Just breathe, it’ll be alright.” 

The ambulance pulls up and doors open to reveal Amelia, Bailey, Kepner, Teddy, and Carina. 

“What do we have?” Bailey starts.

“23 year old female in a MVC, airbags deployed, head laceration, possible spinal injury, she says she can’t feel her legs. C-spine precaution taken. Y/n had two panic attacks already and is in pain but no pain meds given as unknown head trauma...” Andy trails off. 

“Alright, trauma 2.”

Y/n is rolled in as everyone takes on a role and several hands are trying to assess her injuries to the full extent. Y/n takes her deep breaths as she reminds herself they are here to help her. 

In the entrance of the room Maya whispers to Carina, “Carina, she said she can’t feel her legs. I tried to stay calm for her but it’s never good. She was freaking out…” 

A loud groan of pain takes them out of their moment as they see they have turned y/n on her side to check her back before placing her back down. Amelia does a head work up and then moves down to y/n’s legs. Carina steps closer to y/n for support as Amelia asks her if she can feel her touching her feet. 

“I can’t feel it.” Amelia moves up the leg and to the knee. “Nothing.” Amelia moves mid-thigh. “I barely feel that.”

“Okay, don’t worry, we will get a CT scan and check you out. Might just be inflammation on the spine that will go away.” Amelia reassured the girl Carina took under her wing. 

“And what if it doesn’t,” Y/n asks the question she knows the answer to. 

“Let’s see what the scans say and we will take it from there.” Amelia places her hand on Y/n’s hand but she pulls away. 

“I’m going to be sick.” With that, y/n turns her body as much as possible and only dry heaves. 

“Bambina, you are stressing yourself out. I know you are worried about playing soccer, hell even walking but one thing at a time. You can’t think of what ifs. I am here now. I will make sure things are in order. Maya and I will be there for you every step of the way. I am going to need you to practice the breathing exercises. I don’t want them to sedate you but if your panic gets in the way…”

“No, no I promise.” Y/n cuts her off and closes her eyes trying to regulate her breathing. The team talks to her about the next steps of imaging and makes her a priority case.

[fortheloveofowen]

I'd Do Anything - Luke Patterson

Summary: Luke Patterson could finally touch the world around him without it slipping through his grasp. With his new-found ability, Luke can finally tell her how he feels. But, when a sticky situation ends up giving him the perfect opportunity, will Luke be able to get the girl?

Warnings: Underage drinking, PINING, slight angst, physical fighting, fluffy ending

Note: For the story purposes, reader could see Luke before

Hello, hello! First post on this blog! I plan on giving a little introduction to me in a separate post! But, welcome to the jungle!

𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪

Luke's eyes had trailed around the party for 20 minutes, having lost sight of you when you escaped to the kitchen to get a drink. You had walked in together, his arm slung loosely around your shoulder as you strolled over to your friends.

30 minutes, now.

Luke decided he needed to look for you. He strode quickly around the teenage girls dancing on the makeshift dance floor and down the hallway to the kitchen. As soon as he caught glimpse of you his breath hitched. There you were, drink in hand, obviously uncomfortable. The football player had to be easily 6 feet tall.

"What do you say we head out of here? It's boring, right?" The tall boy slurred at you as he leaned over your much shorter stature.

"Sorry... I uh..." You looked around nervously, "I came with my friends... and they're probably looking for me," your uneasiness was obvious to Luke as he stormed his way over.

Now, Luke was never a fighter. Not before he died, and definitely not after. But, when it came to the one girl he needed to protect at all costs, he didn't care. After Caleb's curse had dissipated, Luke ,along with Reggie and Alex, were a little closer to normalcy. They could touch, feel things. Feel a little more alive. And Luke didn't think one of the first things he'd do, now that he could touch things, was punch a jock square in the face.

The initial blow was like a firecracker erupting inside of Luke. Dan (as Luke did lots of yearbook stalking to find his name) was quick to grab his own bruised cheek. Your eyes were gaping as you took in the scene in front of you: Luke angry, and heaving as Dan takes a step toward him. What could you do?

"L-Luke, please stop" You begged, tears threatening to escape as you choked them back.

At this point, the rest of the band had made their way into the kitchen where a large crowd was staring at the two fighting boys. A quick-thinking Alex had managed to peel Luke off of the bleeding teenager as Julie ran over to you.

"C'mon y/n, we gotta go before cops bust this place!" Julie shouted over the commotion as she grabbed you wrist and dragged you outside.

Reggie was quick to follow, not forgetting to grab a drink for the road. Flynn, only recently getting her license, decided to lay back in case they need a designated driver for the night. And, oh boy, did they. Her headlights shone on them as they made their way over to her car, each one of them squeezing in beside each other. Your eyes scanned over the cuts and bruises littered over your best friends knuckles. You weren't afraid of him. But, seeing so much anger in his eyes was new to you. Luke was soft, to put it lightly.

The ride home had been silent, other than Julie recapping the night for Flynn. Originally, you had planned to stay with Julie for the night, but after reliving the night through Julie's words, you decided it was best to just go home. Everyone had said quiet goodbyes to you and letting you know that they were there if you wanted to talk about the events of the night.

Your bed welcomed you with open arms after the long, hot shower you had just taken. A tap on the window had moved you attention away from the re-run that had been playing on your TV. You looked up to see Luke's eye peering through the gap in your curtains. With a sigh, you threw your blankets off your legs and made your way over to the window, careful not to be too loud. You opened it slightly.

"Luke what're you doing here I told-" Your argument was cut-off by him making his way past you and onto your bed.

He had stayed there many nights, glancing over at you from the opposite side of the bed. Of course, when he couldn't touch anything, things seemed simpler. He knew things would never work out between the two of you if you could never touch. So, he had pushed those feelings aside. But, tonight at the party, all he had wanted to do was put his arms around your waist and drunkenly dance.

Your eyes fell onto the blood still speckled across his hands. You audibly sighed and went to the bathroom, grabbing some peroxide and bandaids. If there was one person you'd drop anything for, it'd be Luke.

He winced as the cold liquid came in contact with the open cuts littering his knuckles. You hadn't spoken since he had come into your bedroom unannounced, and this silence was most definitely awkward. You made your way up to the one small wound that cracked his once soft lip, using a cotton ball to wipe off the remaining blood. Luke's eyes darted between yours and your lips, wondering if he should take the chance while he still has it. But, he decided to go with his better judgement on this one.

"Y/n," Luke finally broke the silence, "could I stay here tonight? The boys are all over me with questions and I just need to be away from it and your room is so comfortable and-"

"Luke, you're always welcome to stay, you know that," you paused for a moment, "and, thank you for tonight. I forgot to thank you earlier," you spoke while smiling at him and applying the final bandaid.

The movie you had put on was only background noise as the two of you lay silent in your bed. Your body turned away from Luke as you hugged yourself into your blanket, once again recounting every step from the night. You began to let out barely audible sobs, finally letting them fall after hours. Luke had been staring at the back of your head for what seemed like hours, in a daze of his own. But, that daze was quickly broken as he scooted closer to you and leaned over your shoulder.

"Hey, hey, hey, are you okay?" he asked, turning you to face him, concerned riddling his face.

You were fast to cover your face, attempting to suppress the sobs coming out of your mouth. Luke hated to see you in pain, and even more when he was part of the cause.

"Don't cover your face... you're too pretty to cover your face, come here," Luke sighed out, pulling you to his chest and running his fingers through your hair. You had noticed the calluses on his fingers slightly snagging at your hair, but you didn't mind.

If you hadn't been so upset in the moment, Luke would've noticed how his mind began racing and he finally felt whole. He wanted this. Forever. You and him, cuddled up in bed, his hands stroking your hair as you lay awake. And as much as he wanted to focus on that, you needed him more than he needed you right now. He let you cry. Staining his shirt with the remnants of the makeup you haphazardly washed off in the shower.

"Luke, why? Why did you protect me? You wouldn't have gotten hurt if it wasn't for me!" You manage to push out as you pull your head away from his chest to look up at him.

His usually smug and confident smirk was replaced with a nervous smile as he let out a little chuckle.

"I don't think this is funny, Luke!" You huffed out and rolled over again.

"It's not funny, it's just," he paused pulling you back around to face, "are you seriously that oblivious? I thought I've been pretty bold these past few days." You stared at him, confusion plastered on your tear stained face.

"Oh, you really don't know..." his jaw moved slightly before he bit his lip to think, "Look, I have lived every waking second since I somehow ended up in Julie's studio thinking about you. About the next time I'd get to see you, next time you'd come to band practice. I don't know when it started, but I really," you cut Luke off.

"Luke, if this is a pity love confession then you really don't have to. I'm seriously okay," you let out, your heart beginning to race.

"If you'd just let me finish. I had like a whole speech written out," Luke giggled and scratched the back of his neck.

"Anyways... I don't know when I started feeling that way about you, but I know it's real and it hurts like hell. God, not being able to even touch you for months was hell. It was all hell. But, I still wanted it. When Caleb cursed us I promised myself I wouldn't do it anymore. But, I couldn't help it. And," he looked down at you, searching for any reaction in your eyes.

"And?" You questioned, getting anxious by all of his stalling.

"And, I'm pretty sure I don't really know what love is, but if I had to guess, then this is it, right? You asked why I protected you, and I protected you because I love you. And I know this life might not be what you want, but I'd do anything just to have you by my side," Luke continued rambling, spilling his heart out to you, scared you didn't feel the same way.

"Luke, Luke, hey Luke," his mouth closed as you shushed him," Just kiss me you dork."

And he did.

𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪

Thank you so much for reading my first little story! I just love soft Luke omg.

[daphnethebanjolover]

Thoughts on Inside Out 2

Also known as Pixar Showing Off Their CGI Again

Pretty sick how you can see multi-color memories in the first scene as a follow-up to the end of the first movie where they discover that memories can be associated with multiple emotions.

It only took a few seconds in the pit for me to remember that Bing Bong is fucking gone.

"I'm Brie." "I'm Grace." "I'm gay." "You're purple." -Me, too quietly for anyone to hear (in case you can't tell, I still think about IF sometimes)

Maybe adding a "We're Blasting Off Again" chute wasn't the best idea.

In the scene right before they pull into the high school parking lot, you can already see orange buttons on the console.

The shot of Joy being like "There's nothing to worry about" while there's literally a wrecking ball in the window should be a meme.

It's very fitting that they made Anxiety just a creature.

Embarrassment might be big, but he's just a lil guy.

Then there's Envy, who actually is little but not in a cute way. More like an Aquamarine from Steven Universe way. In fact, she might just be Aquamarine.

Le Console App

They have an old lady living in the closet.

Biggest jumpscare of 2024: 2D animation in a Pixar movie.

Second biggest jumpscare of 2024: PlayStation graphics in a Pixar movie.

Anger just said, "FUCK DA POLICE."

I wanted Sadness to show up in headquarters and say "Surprise, motherfucker."

I was the first person to laugh at the Sar-chasm, and then everyone else started laughing. I feel like that happened multiple times, actually.

After Anger called Joy delusional, I fully expected her to say "what the fuck did you just say to me?"

Let Joy say fuck.

How self-aware of Disney to include a scene in an animation sweatshop.

I was wondering how they were going to top Riley running away in the first movie. Turns out the answer is breaking and entering.

Why does a fanny pack from a preschool kids' show have that much dynamite in it?

Anxiety? Did you mean Sonic the Hedgehog?

So what I'm getting is that the moral of the story is I Am All of Me.

You wanna talk anxiety? Let's make Inside Out 3 about Riley getting her driver's license.

Overall, 9/10 movie. Pouchy <<<<< Toodles

[the-californicationist]

The Logistics

This is (at long last!) a short request gift for the wonderful @glitterypirateduck who is an amazing source for all things COD fics!! Seriously, you are missing out if you're not following their blog. They've got challenges and recs galore. Be sure to stop by and give them some love!!

DUCKS! I'm so sorry this took me so long. Thanks for being patient. It's a little short and a little sweet, but I hope it inspires you. ✌️🩷

The goal was to capture the fun lovin' from this scene from Crazy Stupid Love. I have NOT seen this movie, so thanks for suspending your expectations, everyone.

Everything about him screamed man. He was brazen with his body language, making wide sweeping motions with his hands when he talked, using a voice that rumbled and boomed like thunder, using his heavy, muscled form to take up space in the room. His beard and hair were immaculately groomed, and his clothing choices all seemed to have a level of intent in their favor. 

His name was Alex Keller. You didn’t know him, but everyone else did, and they couldn’t stop talking about him. He was supposedly some hot-shot CIA agent with a license to kill, but that all sounded like a tall tale to you. And you didn’t really care to know the truth until you locked eyes with him from across the bar. 

You thought he’d look away, maybe turn back to his friends, laugh heartily at more of their jokes. A quick glance was all it was supposed to be. But, it wasn’t quick. He stayed bound by your gaze, and you watched as his face went slack. Those big blue eyes gleamed in the low lamp light of the bar. Then, as if suddenly thawed back to life, he started to make his way over to you and your friends’ table.

“Oh, my God,” Tara gasped, slapping you on your bare thigh.

You winced, looking over at her, 

“What?”

“He’s coming. Keller is coming over here.”

“What? He’s what?” Helena craned her neck around you to stare. 

“So?” You asked.

“So!?” They both exclaimed at the same time.

“Good evening, ladies,” his voice melted over your group like warm honey, soft and sticky, clinging to everything it landed on. 

You rolled your eyes, edging out of the booth.

“Hey, leaving so soon?” He smiled down at you from his towering height. He smelled expensive, and it was intoxicating. You did everything you could to ignore it. 

“Yeah,” you sighed, reaching for your clutch, “My carriage is turning into a pumpkin soon, and you really don’t wanna be inside it when that happens.”

“Yeah,” he said, following your movements with his eyes, watching you pull yourself together, “Sounds sticky.”

“Very,” you smiled curtly. 

Then, he started following you to the door. You looked at him over your shoulder, 

“You lose something?”

He laughed, putting his hands in his pockets, fully at ease in the most attractive way,

“No, but I’m looking for something.”

You made it to the curb and waited for a cab. It was raining hard enough to make you shiver, and you couldn’t help but glare as you turned to reply to him,

“What are you looking for, Mr. Keller?”

He was getting soaked, but he smiled slyly as he looked down at the glistening pavement in a brief moment of vulnerability,

“You.”

You scoffed, 

“Does that line work on anybody?”

He glanced up at you incredulously, 

“Sometimes, yeah!”

You smirked, rolling your eyes again and waving down a cab driver. 

“Wait!” He grabbed your arm.

You looked at him like he was out of his mind for touching you like that, and he let you go, raising his hands in surrender. He continued with his pitch,

“Come back to my place. Just for one drink. And if you’re still not into me, I’ll bring you home. I promise.”

“And what happens when you serial kill me?” You asked, impatient.

“I don’t think it’s serial if it’s just once.”

“That doesn’t make it better!”

He laughed, backing up a half-step,

“Okay, I promise not to serial kill you. You just…” His face softened and he looked at you in a way no one had ever looked at you before, “You look good. Please. One drink?”

“So, is this how it normally works?” You asked in a short tone. You could tell that you were fidgeting, feeling your hands tugging on the short hem of your dress, and you tried to stop. You just needed something to do while he was stripping down in front of you. It was the most delicious display you’d ever witnessed, and you couldn’t look away. 

“What?” Alex looked up at you as he stripped off his outer jacket, rolling it over those muscular shoulders.

All the words rushed out of your mouth at once before you could stop them, “You know, you, like, put on the perfect song and make them drink… and then you sleep together.” 

“…um, yeah.” He smiled, crossing his arms over his wide chest as he leaned against the back of his white leather sofa.

Everything in his place looked expensive. The CIA apparently paid pretty well. The countertops were a glittering white quartz, the floors were marble, and the walls all seemed to be made of glass. Everything shone, except for you, it seemed.

“I’m very nervous,” you laughed, not sure why you were confessing to him.

“I’m getting that,” Alex laughed, too. It made you feel better, though just a bit.

“Okay, ‘cause I know I seemed confident back at the bar. That was, um… that was mostly just because I was cold… and wet… and trying to be dramatic, a little bit.”

He was watching you through your whole speech, raking his eyes over you without worrying about hiding his leering. Then, he smiled again, tempting you,

“You’re adorable.”

“No!” You found some courage somewhere deep down in your heart and stood your ground, “I am sexy. I am R-rated sexy. Okay, I know what happens in the PG-13 version of tonight, alright? I know. It’s - uh, that - I get really drunk and pass out and you cover me with a blanket and you kiss me on the cheek and nothing happens! But, that’s not why I’m here. I am here…” You made sure to emphasize your words with your body language, turning up the aggression as far as it would go, “...to bang the hot guy that hit on me at the bar.”

“Alex,” he pointed to himself, helping you with his name.

“Alex.”

“Do people still say ‘bang’?” He questioned.

“Oh, I do. We are gonna bang. Yeah, this is happening,” you sighed, shaking off the nervousness quite literally. Then, resolutely, you commanded him, “Take off your shirt.”

“What?”

Breathless, you repeated yourself in a rush, hoping you wouldn’t lose your nerve,

“Please, will you just take off your shirt? ‘Cause I can’t stop thinking about it. And I need you to just…”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Alex started to take his shirt off, undoing button after button until he was able to shuck off his last layer.

“Okay, okay,” you mimicked, breathing steadily to keep yourself calm.

“Okay.” 

It was unbelievable that a real human person could look like that. It was even more unbelievable that a person who looked like that would be standing in front of you. You threw up your hands in despair, 

“Seriously!? It’s like you’re photoshopped! Can I…?”

Some demonic possession took over your body and stretched out your arms to touch his warm abdominal muscles. They felt smooth and pliant beneath your fingers, and when he flexed them, they went as rigid as a stone.

“Ah! You have cold hands!” He yelped, moving away, “Now, you take off your dress.”

“No!”

“Yes,” he insisted.

“No way! Not with all that goin’ on. No, thank you. Is there dim lighting somewhere?”

“No,” he smiled at you, holding back his laughter.

“Oh, God. Okay,” you ran your hands through your hair, trying not to panic, “So, what do we do? What happens now? Like, logistically? What’s your move?”

“I got lots of moves, babe,” his smile turned smug, and he shook his head as if to shrug off your doubt.

“What’s your big move?” You pressed.

“I’m not telling you about my big move. You’re not ready for the big move.” 

“Yes, I am! I want your big move,” you insisted. Alex was right; you were not ready, but you’d gotten this far, and you decided that there was no turning back.

“Dirty Dancing.”

“What?” You hadn’t heard him correctly, because it sounded like he was saying the words Dirty Dancing.

“It’s the song from Dirty Dancing. I put it on and then I do the big move,” he lifted up his hands in a mock rehearsal, making a strong base with which to lift his date up into the air, “You know, from Dirty Dancing. Works every time.”

“Oh, my God! That would never work on me,” you laughed out loud, eyes wide with shock. 

And that’s how you found yourself, seven feet up in the air, hoisted above Alex Keller’s head in the middle of his living room while the theme song from Dirty Dancing was playing in the background.

It should have been ridiculous, really. You wanted to laugh at yourself. But, you couldn’t. As he lowered you, keeping you close to his chest, sliding you all the way down his body with elegant ease, you could barely breathe. It was as if all of the air had been sucked out of the room, and suddenly, you were taking Alex Keller’s big moves very seriously. You took them even more seriously when your thighs and belly grazed over the biggest move of the night: his hardening cock. 

He gazed down at you with the look of a starving man. His eyes had lost their humor, and he was studying you with sincerity, tuned into your every breath and movement. You were looking at his mouth, and you saw his lips part. You thought the kiss might be slow and careful, but it was everything else. 

Alex rushed you. His mouth was on you in a flash, pressing into your lips and teeth with blissful abandon, not caring how he was holding you or where he was standing. All of it - the whole room - fell away and it was just his tongue sliding across yours, his jaw pushing into yours, his body warming yours. You were overwhelmed by him. 

The straps of your dress were pulled down, and his belt jangled off. Shoes clattered, clothing pooled, and you were falling backwards onto the leather sofa together like two ravenous wolves, hungry for each other beyond measure. 

He kissed your neck, licking at your skin before he sucked on it, tasting your makeup, your perfume, your lotion, and you. He gasped, wrapping you tighter in his arms,

“Fuck… you are so goddamn fine.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t say anything at all. 

His hands found your panties, and he shuddered. It was as if he had just been shocked, bitten by the warmth of you. 

“Oh, my God,” you whispered.

“What? Are you okay?” Alex gave you his full attention.

“No. Yes! No, it’s just… you’re too hot.”

He smiled, 

“You’re one to talk. This is all your fault.”

You felt him slide his cock out of his boxer briefs and tap its rigid length against your lacy panties. It was sexy and absolutely ridiculous, and your body loved it. You let out a short moan, and he caught it. 

“Mmm, she’s naughty.”

“You’re a lot of talk for such a hot dude,” you teased.

“Aren’t hot dudes allowed to be nervous, too?” He asked, looking up at you, his cock still in his hand. 

There was the slightest hint of shyness behind his eyes, just enough to let you know it was there. You smiled at him, raking your hands through his shock of blond hair, 

“No. You’re too hot to be nervous.”

“Well,” he chuckled, “I am, a bit.”

“Yeah, well… welcome to the club,” you kissed his cheek, worried that it was too sweet. 

But, it was just what he wanted. He melted into it, leaning into your kiss, sighing at its contact. Then, his voice dropped to a whisper, and he kept his face close to yours as he said,

“What if we just stay like this? Just for now. Is that okay, pretty girl?”

He slipped his cock inside of your panties and nestled his shaft between your wet lips, rubbing himself on you. 

“Yeah, that feels good,” you admitted, letting him kiss his way down your neck. 

His hands were everywhere. He plucked at your nipples, wetting his fingers before he did so, letting them slip and slide over your tight peaks, making you gasp for him. All the while, he was thrusting into you, slicking himself in your wetness, gasping and moaning with you. 

You angled your hips to give him more of you, more of that warmth you kept between your thighs, and he laughed. A look of shock was plastered on his face, and you asked him,

“What’s wrong?”

He was still reeling as he whispered back to you,

“I can’t believe I’m close.”

You brought his face back to yours to kiss him again, feeling yourself building up to a climax as well, though it was a ways off. You grinned at him softly,

“Why? Are photoshopped guys not allowed to get turned on.”

He chuckled, kissing you back,

“I guess we are. Maybe when a photoshopped girl is here, like this, yeah…”

You gave him a gentle slap on his chest, giggling together as he rubbed himself against you. Then, his hand joined his efforts, softly encircling your clit and coaxing you closer and closer to your peak. His thrusts became frantic, searching for pleasure with every push and pull.

The way his body was yanking against the elastic of your panties was intoxicating, and his hands seemed to sense exactly what you needed when you needed it. He picked up his pacing, and you watched in awe as all of those muscles and bones worked for you, struggled just to get you off, flexing and curling and flushing above you like a delicious morsel, ready to be devoured.

You heard yourself mewling quietly, and he egged you on,

"That's it, pretty girl. I like that. Need that..."

You wrapped your arms around his neck and held on tight to him, feeling your body tense and freeze as you melted into a warm, shimmering orgasm, crying out louder and louder as you lost control.

You still didn’t know Alex Keller very well, but you were starting to really enjoy finding out.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Comforting Chad through his PTSD after he hears about Ghostface’s return

Warnings: mention of stabbing/injuries (past), ptsd,

my taglists are here (I added one for SCREAM) + you can requests here at any time

—

Despite moving across the country, the masked killer had followed the four survivors to New York. This time, the killer — or killers, since they rarely came alone — had for goal to frame Sam for their murders.

It started with Jason and Greg, two students from Film Studies, who got killed in their apartment. When the police got there, a ghostface mask — likely worn by the killer — had been left behind in their apartment along with Sam’s driver's license.

Then, Sam got a special call from six feet under from her ex-boyfriend, Richie. That call led her and Tara getting ambushed from an alley and attacked at the bodega where multiple customers were murdered.

Another mask was left behind the scene — the one of past ghostfaces Jill Roberts and Charlie Walker.

After the attack at the bodega, everyone — except Ethan — was forcely gathered at the apartment you shared with the Carpenter sisters because safety is better in numbers. Sam made sure everyone was in and triple locked the apartment door and shut and locked all windows for ultimate safety. No one could come in.

Anika and Mindy were talking on the couch while you, Chad, Sam and Tara were in the kitchen cleaning up the mess dinner left behind. Tara shared her worries as she was drying a glass, and Sam was quick to reassure her that whoever was behind the mast wont hurt her this time. She was talking through her ass, but as a big sister, she'd do and say anything to make Tara feel safe.

Her words seemed to have triggered old memories for Chad, who excused himself to the bathroom after putting down the plates.

Last year’s attack had landed him in the hospital and left him with PTSD.

When you got together, Chad didn’t want to unpack the Woodsboro baggage to you. He didn’t want you to burden you with the horrors he went through that night. But after you had woken him from occasional nightmares and coached him out of a few panic attacks, he felt like you needed to know about the real-life nightmare that plagued him.

You waited a minute or two, but when Chad didn’t return from the bathroom, you went to check on him. Maybe he was still peeing…or maybe he was sitting on the edge of your bed with his head in his hands. He took in a shaky breath, trying to chase away the flashing images in his head.

It pained you to see him suffer. All because two lunatic Stab fans wanted to shoot their own remake. People are nuts.

‘’Hey,’’ you muttered when you walked in, not wanting to scare him.

Chad didn’t look up. He knew it was you before you opened your mouth. Mindy only had eyes for Anika, and Tara was going through her own trauma. Sam cared about him, but not the way you did.

‘’I don’t want to go through this shit again.’’

You didn’t know what to say to that. Due to being related to one of the originals, Chad will always be a target.

You sat on the bed beside him and kissed his shoulder over his Blackmore University hoodie.

‘’We came all the way here to leave that night behind, but it served nothing. Someone managed to find us.’’ Chad’s shoulder began to shake and he started struggling to breathe.

Recognizing the signs, you got down on your knees before him and attempted to look in his eyes, but he had his head bowed firmly. ‘’Chad? Hey, look at me,’’ you said in a gentle but clear voice.

He couldn’t hear you, his thoughts clouded with flashes of running in Amber’s backyard with ghostface behind him and the feeling of the knife stabbing him seven times. He could still feel the excruciating pain of the knife, each stab marked on his body forever.

‘’That night is over. You’re not in Woodsboro anymore,’’ you continued telling him, placing your hands on his arms, trying to use physical contact.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t working. His breathing was getting worse and your brain was running out of ideas.

The last time Chad had a nightmare, he mentioned something his old therapist had taught him. Since his nightmares were about the attack, he was advised to place his hand over his heart to hear his own heartbeat. Hearing the thumping of his heart would remind him that he's alive and not bleeding out to death in a backyard.

‘’Come back to me, baby. Chad,’’ you pleaded, attempting to take his hands in yours and place one of them on his chest.

A breath of relief left your lips when his shaking shoulders began to calm and Chad’s head lifted, veiled with fear.

You placed your hands on either side of his face. ‘’You’re gonna get through this, okay? You’ve survived once, you can do it twice.’’

Chad shook his head. ‘’I barely made it—’’

‘’But you’re here, right in front of me — alive,’’ you reminded him. ‘’We can get through this again, okay?’’

It took a few seconds before Chad moved his head into a nod. He pulled you up from the floor and onto his lap, then leaned his forehead against yours. ‘’We’ll get through this,’’ he whispered.

Your hands moved up and you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, pulling him against your chest as he held you back. ‘’We’ll get through this.’’ 

—

Scream taglist: @misfityanii @beautybyfire @iluvscream191 @mariposa555 @bella7866 @o638 @lulubelle14 @luvvtxinityy @frasersgf

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs  @gillybear17  @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade  @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn

[nephilimeq]

Hey, I was just wondering what age you thought Derek was in season one? Cause it’s a heavily debated and unknown piece of information. Me personally I always thought he was 19 in the pilot, and this was before I had read anything about the writers wanting him to be that age in the pilot. It was just the way he acted, to me, it doesn’t seem like a mid-20s man. Also stiles says the fire happened “ like ten years ago” but then a few episodes later Peter says he’s been in a coma for 6 years. So I was just curious what you thought. Also stiles saying that is always made out to be taken as it literally happened exactly ten years ago, and people always bring it up but they never talk about how long Peter said it had been.

Sorry if this is long I just enjoy your blog and your thoughts. I wanted to share mine while also hearing it from your perspective. Hope you have a wonderful day, you deserve it!

This is a very tricky subject to handle, because the writers made mistakes in their own timeline so they switched things around.

But in the very first episode Stiles says that Derek is only a few years older than them. I always figured that Derek was around 19 in Season 1, while Stiles was 16.

The reason why they messed everything up so horribly is because they hadn't actually created a timeline for all the events when they started writing, and to me, it made the show feel like a fan fiction writer who was just making it up as they went and then all the reviewers were saying, "Hey, you have a few continuity errors," and instead of trying to make it work, they just made something up and didn't really try to go back and adjust anything.

There's a scene that happens when Stiles is asking Peter and Cora about Derek's past (Season 3, Episode 8 "Visionary"), and he is trying to find out how old they are, and this train wreck section of dialogue occurs:

Stiles: Okay, if Derek was a sophomore back then, how old was he? How old were you? ...How old are you now? Peter: Not as young as we could have been, but not as old as you might think. Stiles: Okay, that was frustratingly vague. How old are you? Cora: I'm seventeen. Stiles: See, that's an answer. That's how we answer people. Cora: Well, seventeen how you'd measure in years. Stiles: Alright, I'm just gonna drop it.

This dialogue made me so pissy when I heard it the first time because I knew that this was the writers' response to the viewers and fans. The fans are Stiles in this conversation, and the writers are Peter and Cora being purposely "frustratingly vague" in the hopes that we'll just "drop it", which a lot of us did because they wouldn't give us any straight answers.

They messed up and they know it.

In my head canon -- because it makes the most sense to me -- Derek is three years older than them. Canonically, Derek is actually only ten days older than me, as seen in this enhanced screencap right here (from Season 1, Episode 11, where Kate has him kidnapped and held up in chains):

So according to this he would have been around 22, about to turn 23 in the first season...but here's something to take into consideration. This driver's license isn't for California -- it's for New York. I have a theory that he got a professional fake I.D. so that he could do more jobs (such as bartending) while he was out of state.

Now, when Stiles mentions the fire was "like, ten years ago," I genuinely think that he was just generalizing. Derek was sixteen when Kate took advantage of him raped him, which means that the fire happened when Stiles was around twelve/thirteen (as he has a canonically April 8th birthday, so it all depends on the months).

Regarding anything Peter might have said...please remember that it has been firmly established in the show that Peter is an unreliable narrator. Stiles openly admits that to Cora in the previously mentioned Season 3, Episode 8, "Visionary".

A lot of these issues are because of the lack of consistency from the writers.

I think the biggest problem was when they cast a younger Peter and totally threw the timelines off, trying to make him only a few years older than Derek -- which he wasn't. Peter is Derek's uncle, for crying out loud! The man would have been in his late twenties, early thirties when Derek was a teen, barely looking any different than he does in the show...and yet the writers and producers thought that making him look almost like a teenager was the right call.

I do think it was a last ditch attempt to try and make Derek waaay older than Stiles because they didn't like the shipping -- but they had already established too much of their timeline at that point and simply messed up and didn't have the guts to admit it.

Simply put, I genuinely think Derek was nineteen and turned twenty during season one.

Hope that answers your questions, anon!

[renata-has-thoughts]

W/c: ~1.7k Pairing: gn!reader x John Constantine

Includes: NSFW, Top reader, handjobs, masturbation, car sex (sorta…ig…car handjobs?). 18+ per usual.

A/N: I HAVEN’T WRITTEN IN FOREVER. I’ll spare everyone the details, but this was quite possibly the worst period in my life to start a Tumblr blog. Shits been crazy. I’ll try and get more stuff out soon, apologies!!

Your boyfriend’s travels never failed to enthrall you. Without a doubt, they always came with surprises, ill-timed quips, and incredulous feats of the supernatural. You took a liking to being his ‘getaway driver’, or, essentially, just the person who brought the battered, bruised, and exhausted man home back in one piece. Especially considering he never ended up getting his driver’s license. It allowed ample time for John to splay out his daily adventures to you from his indefinitely-claimed shotgun seat.

“-I made it so complicated, forchristsake, in the end it was just about giving the soul back up to him. Easy.” John complained, bringing a lit, half-smoked cigarette back up to his lips as a sort of punctuation.

“Odd,” you smirked, “you have a sort of instinct to give it up easily,”

Your hands were on the wheel, eyes on the road, but you didn’t need to have any resounding focus on John to know he was giving you a stare from hell and back. You were thoroughly amused, and paid no effort in hiding a smile.

“You think you’re funny, dontcha?” He replied breathily, as if he had been punched in the gut by your words.

“Mm, in fact, I think I’m hilarious,”

Defeated, John turned his head back to greet the cigarette he held in his hand, eyes once again taking in the road before you both.

It was late, empty, and one-laned, lined by bowing trees, limbs extended as if praising the sky above. It was quiet.

John’s passenger side window was cracked just enough to create an escape route for the smoke to retreat. You could hear the background chirp of crickets and low tones of faraway owls in the thick summer air of the backroads. The atmosphere was pressingly calm.

John never was too big of a fan of calm.

He reached over to fiddle with the car radio with his free hand, still taking draws from his cigarette with the other.

“I’m not sure we’re going to get many inner-city stations out here, Johnny. I’ve got CDs in-“

“There we go.” John interrupted, settling on a strong connection he found. The music was a soft lilt amongst the rest of the night, a soothing and permeable volume. “Wanna know a secret?” John asked rhetorically, retracting his hand from the radio to rest on his inner thigh.

“I don’t really have an option, do I?”

“When I was younger, Blur was one of my guilty pleasure bands.”

So that’s which band was playing. The melodic undercurrent of your drive.

“John, a boy band fan. I can’t believe it.” You teased, tilting the corner of your mouth up. “And to think you were in the punk scene all whilst getting a rise outta probably some tories kids. What a poser.”

John winced playfully. “I had a crush on…fuck, uh…Damon, right. I had a crush on him throughout my teenage years.”

“I’m exceptionally jealous.” You remarked with sarcasm dwelling beneath your words.

“Mmm, well, I don’t recall him ever giving me a blowjob that resulted in what felt like two orgasms at once…so…I think you’ve no competition.” He grinned with heavy-lidded eyes, likely referencing the last time you two had fucked.

“Thank god. You may be a slut, John, but you’re mine, right?” You concluded, sparing a glance to meet his pretty eyes. His darted away from yours the second you made to latch onto them.

You feigned a pouting expression. “That’s no answer, Johnny.”

“Yeah, alright. I’m a slut, just for you.” He sighed, but not without the hint of humorous understanding.

“Atta boy.”

John made a barely audible strangled sound. So small picking up on it would be more difficult than a city station in the furrows of a forest. But still possible.

“Can you repeat that for me?” You encouraged, suddenly vying to hear his filthy back thoughts.

“I said,” John began, pressing the cigarette between clamped teeth, taking the now independent hand down to grope aimlessly one, two times at his groin. He emitted a staggered whimper in a pleased, desperate reaction.

“That’s what I thought. I expect no less of you.”

“Fuckin’ hell…” John grumbled, muffled by his smoking as he continued his habits, fingers extending and contracting around the swell in his pants.

“What a predicament. Constantine is so needy he’s taken to near-jacking off in my car.” You mocked, “Albeit I’m not all that surprised, if I’m being honest.”

“I’ve been away from you for a week now…cut me some fuckin’ slack.” He sighed, returning his hand to his cigarette, his other free hand swapping to pick up the responsibilities.

“I get that, but all I said was that you’re a slut. Now you’re getting off-“ -John impeded your words with a garbled moan- “just to my insults alone. Which…yeah, makes sense.”

“Shut up, I know, I know…” John muttered hazily, now unzipping his pants.

“Shut up? I thought you were enjoying me rambling dirty things to you.”

“T-Turn of phrase, you bastard,” John huffed, palming at the waistband of his now-exposed boxers, toying with the mere concept of touching himself.

“So is that a ‘keep going’ or-?”

“Yes, for fucks sake, that’s a keep going,” John complained, taking a quick drag from his cigarette before thrusting a hand down his pants to aimlessly grope at himself. He added a small, “please” eventually.

“Christ, John,” you chuckled, driving with one hand, the other kneading at your forehead as you shook it in disbelief. “You kill me sometimes. I mean,” you began, resting your elbow on the console between you two, offhandedly gesturing towards him as you spoke, “…I mean, you can’t even wait until we get home?”

“Not when you’re calling me your slut and bullshit like that, n-no,” John moaned, his cock now out and clasped in one hand, cigarette to mouth in the other, with his head thrown back.

“Damn you, pretty boy. Damn you.” You muttered as you felt your body stir amidst his moans. You had another twenty or so minutes to go until you got home. No way you could hold out.

“Pretty boy…hmhnnm…I like that a lot,” his hand was moving lazily now, thrusting from head to base in a tired grip.

“I’ve gotta admit, John, you had me pretty fucked over when you were gone all this week. I swear my moans would’ve turned a deaf man to a hearing one. All ‘cause of you, of course.”

“Tell me how you’d touch yourself.”

“Fast.” You said with finality, reveling in the cacophony of curses that melted from John when you said that. “...and rough. Just like how we fuck, hmm?”

“Yeah, yeah, just-just like how we fuck.” John gasped, breath only coming in sporadic, far between bursts, separated by an asphyxiated period of whines. One of which was a jumbled mess of your name. Soft and uncharacteristically vulnerable.

You’ve never parked a car on the side of the road faster.

“Fuck you, pretty boy. Fuck you and your stupid fucking pretty moans-” You grumbled, unlatching your seat belt and then leaning over the console, finding a position with your knees facing him, hand swatting his away so you could take over jerking him off.

“I love it when you steal control of the situation from me,” John moaned, leaning back into the chair, eyes fluttering closed as you took the reins for him.

“I know you do, Johnny, that's why I’m doing this. I’d go as far to say I know you to a fault, right? Knowing all your…” you flicked several fingers over the head of his cock while thrusting your hand, much to his audible pleasure, “...weaknesses.”

“Know me too well, know me too bloody well, fuck!” He rambled, absently bucking his hips into your grip several times with less than poor composure.

Taking note of his unbridled desperation, you picked up your pace to something nearing brutal. His breath picked up as a consequence you easily reveled in. You didn’t stop exploiting his sensitive spot around the head of his cock, and ended up with a grin every time he whimpered. Thank fuck this backroad was empty.

A low rumble grew in Constantine’s throat as he bit his lip, trying to gather himself under your influence.

“Don’t bother with that dignity bullshit, love. You know I love hearing you.” You reminded, careening over to kiss his exposed neck, with his head thrown back, you couldn’t help yourself.

“Okay, yeah, yeah…please-please keep going.” John sighed, his moans making him tremble at this point. “I think ‘m gonna cum.”

“Then cum for me, make a mess outta my hand.”

“Fuck-yeah, I w-will,” he groaned. Soon after his back arched and his eyes snapped tightly shut, shaking as he did as he promised, spilling over your still moving hand. You kept going throughout his orgasm, using his cum as a lubricant. Slowly but surely, you winded down as did he. His back straightened out, and his eyes fluttered back open to meet yours.

“Well, thanks.” He mumbled, smiling broadly, with the hint of weariness in his voice as he calmed down.

“Anytime, Constantine.” You replied, returning his pleased expression. Before he could stop you, you wiped your cum-ladened hand over his trenchcoat, drying it. He opened his mouth to tell you off, but you silenced him with a passionate kiss. He gave up the fight and melted into it, but when you pulled away, he muttered something along the lines of, “this is my nice coat.”

“Alright. Let's get ourselves back home, shall we?” You said, resuming your position in the driver’s seat, buckling yourself in. John, too, righted himself, slipping his boxers and pants back on with a small, shaky exhale of contentment. You added, as you shifted back into gear and got on the road, “We can finish what we started when we get back.”

“...finish?”

“Yeah, gps says we’ve got 15 minutes to go. Think you can recover in that time frame?”

“Do I think I can recover? One look at you and I’m painfully hard, love.”

“You’re such a charmer, Johnny.”

“I try.”

[heartfullofleeches]

Idk if this fits bit V reminds me of that one meme from the movie (I think) Spree that’s like the scene where the main guy is driving with the girl (or smth I never watched the actual movie-) and it’s like

“I’m taking you home!”

“This is not the way to my fucking house??!!”

“Ohh no not your home, my home.” :)

Holy fuck- V is literally an edgier Kurt- (implied drugging)

Going along with streamer reader: You're an up and coming streamer that just attended your first convention and you gave a powerful speech about community and supporting those around you. Your words are so impactful they move members of the crowd to tears - and prevent an attempt on your life by a deranged fan.

Leaving the con you hop in the Rideshare car with the license plate matching the one on your phone, not even bothering to check who's in the driver's seat. The event has you exhausted, but a quiet voice from the front wakes you as you doze off.

"Hey...."

You stir against the cushion.

"I liked what you said up there...."

Wiping drool from the corner of your mouth, you smile at the main from the overhead mirror. "You were at the convention?"

"Yeah... you were inspirational. There's a water bottle in the cupholder if you're thirst."

Your mouth did feel dry. You locate the mentioned bottle and drink something of the water as he continues.

"You're a genius. The things you were saying were in my head, but I hadn't thought them yet. When I came out here today, I planned to do something I would've regretted for how you treated me, but now I see how you really feel about your fans. About me."

The dryness in the back of your mouth prevails. "I'm sorry, have we met?"

"It's me- V. Y'know, the guy you gave that nickname too because my name was too long, but your mods banned me when I kept asking for your address?"

You peak out the window. This isn't the way he should be going. "I'm...sorry about that. Usually they message me before they do anything."

"It's okay now, Y/n. I hated you and those uptight bastards for the better part of a year, but that's all because I was jealous. They took you away from me, and you didn't even notice then, but I realize now that you always knew that I was still there. You love me. Your biggest fan."

You try to unlock the door. Your fingers fail to properly grip the knob. "What's.. going on?"

"Love. That's what's going on and all I'm about now, babe. Oh, man- we're gonna have so much fun together when you wake up. You prefer Chinese food or Greek?"

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

I don't remember where I read this small fic about Reader and the BAU team getting in a car crash but I honestly need more lol

Male Reader isn't a driver, he's more into motorcycles because they don't need as much spacial awareness as cars do. But ue does know how to drive since you need a drivers license to get a motorcycle license. Well during a long drive to find an unsub's location out in the woods, the team took turns driving. Derek knows that Reader is uncomfortable being behind a wheel and volunteers to stay up with him, making sure he's okay like the dad friend he is.

What the team doesnt know is that the unsub knows they're being followed and so the unsub decides to cause a wreck by speeding down one of the darkened trails in the woods and hits the BAU car

You can decide how injured everyone is and I hope this is an okay request

Is there a possibility it was this fic ?

Word count: 1152

Warnings: car crash, impaled, injuries, blood

"How far out is this place?" JJ asks. Your current suspect (who you were almost 100% sure was the unsub) lived in a remote cabin in the middle of the woods.

"Four hours,"

"I'm sorry, it's four hours out?!" You exclaimed, head whipping in Hotch's direction. "He's driving four hours to dump a body? That's commitment..."

"What's the driving schedule?" Emily asked.

"Me, Morgan, Rossi and then (Y/N)," Hotch said.

"I don't know if it's a good idea," You say, hesitant. "I don't drive that often..."

"Hey man, I'll stay up, keep you company," Morgan offers with a grin, knowing that being the only one awake would add to your worry.

"Thanks," You give him a grin.

"What is it with you and motorcycles, anyway?" Emily teases.

"I don't need as much spatial awareness with them," You explain with a smirk.

She turned to Hotch, "Are we really letting this guy drive?"

"Just get in the car," Morgan laughed. The first two and a half hours of the journey, you were fine, not too anxious, knowing that you had a while before you actually had to drive. Then during Morgan's shift, he decides to stop for coffee - and naturally, you drink one too. Which was a bad move because now you're anxious as fuck. It starts with your knees bouncing, hands shaking, before you force your eyes closed and picture a variety of different movie scenes - mentally rewriting them so they ended the way they should have.

And, soon enough, it's your turn. Morgan makes sure to sit in the passenger seat, so that when everyone goes to sleep, at least you have him to chat to without worrying so much that you might wake the others.

Morgan, as promised, stays awake and you both find yourself debating the alternative movie endings you came up with earlier. Apparently, Morgan doesn't believe that Tony should have lived at the end of Endgame (and honestly, he's wrong - and you make sure to tell him that).

You pause the current conversation, squinting into the darkness, trying to figure out what it was exactly you could see just past the light of the headlights. "What the-?"

Morgan joins you in your confusion. You get slightly closer, slowing down just in case. And you can see the number plate, "Is that the unsub's vehicle?" Morgan asks, you're about to answer when the lights flick on and the car's speeding towards you with no sign of swerving.

"Shit!" You yell, swerving until a tree seemingly appears from nowhere and you slam the breaks, but it's too late and the car collides with the tree and then unsub's vehicle collides with the SUV. Your grip on the wheel is tight, even as the car crumbles, even as the metal dents around your legs and sides, even as the air bag activates and winds you, even as a sharp pain hits your torso. And then your grip loosens as you lose consciousness.

When you come to, the first thing you register is the pain, every part of your body hurts. "Is- Is everyone okay?" You ignore the tears that are starting to build, both from the smoke and the pain.

"We're all okay back here," Hotch answered with a small groan, moving his hand over his face.

"Is everyone awake?" You asked, various voices chimed in, confirming that they were all awake and okay. "Morgan?" You turned your head, panic gnawing at your stomach when you saw that he was still unconscious. You reach out, biting back a yelp when pain spread through your arm - you ignore it and lightly tap his face. "Morgan? Derek?"

"I think he's out for the count," Hotch mumbles and you nod, anxiety gnawing at your stomach. And pain. You let your eyes flicker down to your stomach, just to make sure you're okay. You know it's probably a few bruised ribs, maybe a few broken, but nothing major. But then you see the metal rod and your stomach drops.

"H'tch-" It comes out as a whisper, "Hotch-"

"(Y/N)? (Y/N), what's wrong?"

"I-" You have no clue how to even describe it. There was fumbling and the sound of a low groan, Hotch. You shut your eyes, trying to get rid of the mental image of a metal rod sticking out of your abdomen. You open your eyes when a hand gently taps your cheek, Hotch gives you a small but reassuring smile. "Hotch,"

"I know," He replies, eyes not leaving yours, "I know, but you're going to be just fine, alright?"

When you nod, he turns behind him, "Can you check on Morgan?"

Then there's movement to your right, "Morgan?" JJ. Okay, someone was looking after Morgan, that's good.

"Hey," You look back at Hotch. "The ambulance is on its way, okay? You're going to be okay,"

"There's a whole ass metal rod in my stomach right now Hotch-"

"Let's not think about that right now,"

"Okay, yeah, that sounds like a good idea." You nod. "Is Morgan okay?"

"He looks okay," JJ reassures, "I think he's just unconscious,"

You nod and sirens fill your ears and you let your eyes close for just a moment.

As it turns out, it was not for 'just a moment' but rather several moments. Many hours worth. In fact, since closing your eyes, you've had surgery, nurses have monitored your other injuries, set your arm in a cast, and bandaged you up. Derek had also woken up as the ambulance arrived, confused and dazed to say the least, but otherwise okay. He's not happy with the idea of staying overnight in the hospital, but a firm look from Hotch has him sighing and nodding.

You wake up, three hours after the surgery with a groan, you felt a dull ache, despite the numbing effect of the drugs. "(Y/N)?"

"H'tch," You give a small smile, despite the ache. "Morgan okay?"

"He's okay, everyone - including you - is okay,"

"That's good," You hum before you wince slightly, throat hurting. With a small roll of the eyes, Hotch hands you a small glass of water.

"Small sips," He reminds you, studying your face for a moment before turning back to his newspaper ('since when did Hotch reads newspapers?'). "They didn't have any good books to buy in the shop," Hotch answers.

"You're such a dad," You snort.

"Yep, now get some sleep or I'll ground you and that includes visitors," He answers. When you stare at him in confusion, trying to figure out if he's joking, he looks up and you and you quickly screw your eyes shut - just in case.

Turns out, it's a rather affective way to get to sleep and soon enough, you're waking up. This time, Morgan's there and you immediately grin. "Morgan!" You cheer and Morgan laughs.

"Mornin' sleeping beauty," He teases.

"Whatever," You scoff, "I didn't have the chance to tell you, but how dare you say Tony Stark shouldn't have survived after defeating Thanos."

[artzzyb00-27]

Car Safety; Worried Parents

You already know, let's just hop in.

Harry getting his license was nerve-wracking. Not for him, for Athena. She'd seen many reckless teenagers lose control while driving. So when Harry got his permit, she had the excuse of still being the one driving, or at least being able to make sure he was safe. With the license, he would be alone.

Bobby was nervous too. Mainly because he didn't want to go on a call and see his kid(yes he saw Harry as his own) in the wrecked car. He and Michael were both trying to look for a car that wasn't over the top for Harry's first. May wasn't worried, she trusted Harry. She just made him promise she wouldn't receive a call while she was working about him.

"I know that will be me when Chris gets his license," Eddie said in the loft of the firehouse. Bobby had shared the news that Harry had gotten his license and decided to wait to get a car. Smart choice with how the market was right now.

"I'm worried that Denny will use it as an excuse to leave whenever we're in arguments. Driving while you are angry is the most dangerous." Hen said. Chimney was contemplating how old he would even let Jee-Yun get close to the driver's seat.

"Harry's a smart kid. He's Athena's. He'll be fine on the road when he gets his car."

"You better not give him your Jeep Buck," Bobby warned his surrogate son.

"Don't worry, saving that for Jee-Yun."

"Don't you dare Buckley. Besides why not give it to Chris?" Eddie raised an eyebrow and gave Buck an, 'Oh yeah?', look despite the comment being Chimney's.

"Cause then I'd end up sleeping in the car. Besides Chris already called dibs on the truck."

"Which he'll get when we get another one. So don't even think about it." Raising his hands in defense, he walked behind the counter to help Bobby with lunch. After eating peacefully, the alarm went off and they ran to the truck.

"Alright, we gotta car crash. A Jeep Wrangler and a Lambo." Ravi winced at imaging the ways it could've happened. No matter what, both people in the cars were probably okay. It was a rainy day so either of the cars could have lost control from the wet cement.

When they arrived at the scene, they saw Athena who looked scared. She walked up to the team and debriefed them.

"Teenager in the jeep. Seventeen, turning eighteen tomorrow. The father was in the copilot seat. Lambo was an older man. Had to handcuff him." She explained pointing at the 40-year-old-looking man. Who was cursing the kid across from him. The poor kid looked terrified.

"Already questioned him, I need you guys to get the parent out, he's knocked unconscious." Looking behind her, they were able to see the jeep tipped on its right side. Through the windshield, they could see the father's face. With blood dripping down slightly. Rushing into action they were able to pull him out and make sure he was alive.

When he felt that someone was holding him, he stirred a bit.

"Sir, we're gonna help you out. Can you tell me your name?"

"Mm, Patrick Mendieta. My son, where is he?" He slurred out trying to break free weakly while looking for his kid.

"He's safe sir don't worry."

"You don't understand, he had top surgery a few months ago. Stitches are closed completely but-,"

"In that case, we'll double-check. Right now we need to get you to the hospital to fix up that head of yours." Hen told him while Buck went to go check on the kid.

"Hey there, what's your name?"

"Oliver. I swear it wasn't my fault. We were just driving like normal and he came out of nowhere."

"Yeah right! You were going too fucking slow! Idiot children, don't have no respect-"

"Sir, calm down before I make you," Buck said, effectively making him shut up. Looking back at the kid, he saw the tears streaming down his face. Anger in his eyes.

"He wasn't watching the speed limit. And somehow it's my fault to be careful in the rain."

"I know kid, trust me he'll get reprimanded. Right now I need to make sure you're okay. Your door took the hit it seems." Oliver looked back to his car to realize that Buck was right.

The driver's side was dented, which made the fault immediately go to the other driver. With that he let Buck examine him. Few bruised ribs and a sprained wrist. Nothing serious but would have to go to the doctor to check his back.

After sending the kid away, they dealt with any more issues the rain had caused before heading back to the firehouse. Athena had gotten there early and was sitting at the dinner table eating the food she made for dinner.

"Athena?"

"Couldn't go back immediately. Not after that. Can't stop thinking about Harry." Massaging her shoulders, Bobby made sure she was relaxed before driving back out on patrol.

When the shift ended Eddie and Buck gave Chris an extra long hug. Hen gave Denny another pop quiz on how to handle driving in the rain, and Athena did not let Harry drive any car for a month after that. Not without initial protest. However, it turned to guilt after hearing about the accident from his classmate Oliver.

[imaginesandbandfiction]

Story of Our Life

A Harry Styles Imagine

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: None

A/N: This is something a little different that was inspired by a dream I had where I was singing Story of My Life with 1D in a car... Also, I made some cover art on procreate plz don't judge my mediocre art skills lmao. Hope you like it!!!!!

Masterlist

Excerpts from

STORY OF OUR LIFE

by 

Y/N Styles

To Louis, the best chauffeur I’ve ever had.

To Liam, who keeps us all sane. Steady on, mate.

To Zayn, who always offers a shoulder to cry on (and a cigarette).

To Niall, the king of late-night chats (and snacks).

To Harry, for everything, forever.

Introduction by Harry Styles

Before she was my wife, Y/N Styles was Y/N Y/L/N. We met in 2011, six months before we would be setting out on the Up All Night tour. Even though I had been on TV, in recording studios, and performed live on the X Factor Live Tour 2011, I was still just a shy kid from Holmes Chapel who couldn’t quite believe his luck. I think I spent that whole year in a state of disbelief, afraid that at any moment, someone would tell me that it was all a joke and I wasn’t very good at singing, actually. Every time I took a shower, I half-expected Ashton Kutcher to jump out at me from behind the shower curtain. Y/N, on the other hand, walked into the conference room at Columbia Records, sat down at the head of the table, folded her arms across her chest, and asked us each, individually, if we had read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows and, if so, how did we feel about it? Immediately, I knew that this girl was going to be someone special.

Her dad, Greg Y/L/N, was going to be our tour manager. When it was time for the label to put a team together, he was at the top of the list: a goofy dad with a daughter around our age who had toured with some of the biggest musicians of the 90s. He was the perfect choice for a bunch of kids who didn’t really know what they were doing: industry experience to make sure the day-to-day operations went smoothly, and the paternal instinct to protect us as best he could (we called him Papa Bear, which he pretended to hate, but we all knew he secretly loved it). 

We grew up together, spent months on end traveling the world, learning algebra on private planes and sneaking out of hotel rooms to wander foreign cities in the middle of the night. Fast forward to today. While Y/N was pregnant with Willa, our second child, she spent the whole third trimester on bed rest. Eventually, she got so bored that she scrolled all the way back on iCloud. Our older daughter, Hazel, was fascinated by the pictures of me and the band, and Y/N spent hours recounting our days on tour. I told her that she should write a book, but she refused at first. We have enough money, she said. People will think I’m making a cash grab. I told her that was bollocks, but if she really felt that way, she could donate all the profits to charity. It’s perfect, really, I said. The 20-year anniversary of One Direction is coming up, and it would be cool to give the fans a peek behind the scenes. Really, there’s no one better than you, darling, because you know the real us. She agreed, but only if all five of us were okay with it, and if all of the proceeds could go to The Trevor Project. So really, it’s actually me you should be thanking for convincing her to do this in the first place.

Anyways, here it is. The Story of Our Life: Growing Up With the World’s Biggest Boy Band, written by my amazing wife, Y/N Styles. 

Chapter 5

Out of all the One Direction boys, Louis was the first one to get his driver's license in America. He spent the few months leading up to the Where We Are tour with his girlfriend in California, and wanted to buy a fancy car to drive her around in. Hence, the license. So, when the tour made its way to North America, he somehow managed to convince my dad and the security team to let him drive us from the hotel to the venue a few times. Of course, the windows were tinted (and we were not allowed to open them), we were surrounded by a security detail, and there was always a bodyguard in the backseat, but it didn’t matter. 

On the night of the second show in Detroit, we all piled into a tricked-out Toyota Sienna, the best minivan on the market in 2011. Louis and Liam sat up front, I was squished between Harry and Niall in the middle, and Zayn and the bodyguard sat in the way back. We had the radio blasting and were singing along to some absolute bangers, like Party Rock Anthem and Super Bass, when the first few notes of Story of My Life started playing. Louis groaned and reached over to change the station, but I leaned forwards and slapped his hand out of the way before he could, turning the volume up a few notches. 

“Written in these walls are the stories that I can’t explain,” I sang along with Harry’s voice, turning to look at him with a mischievous smirk. He was mouthing along but bit his lip as soon as I caught him. Liam piped up with his part and I shook my head, laughing. 

“Do you guys seriously only ever sing your parts?” I asked. Next to me, I felt Niall shrug. 

“Feels wrong to sing someone else’s, even off stage,” he said, before chiming in on the background vocals as Zayn jumped in on his part. 

“Well, you should do it anyway, just for fun.” Liam turns around and lifts his eyebrows in a silent challenge. Harry and Niall jumped in, and soon we were all belting out the words to every part.

When the final chorus came up, I turned to rest my head on Harry’s shoulder, singing his part back to him. He was usually the shameless one, but his cheeks were tinted pink and he stopped singing for a few seconds. His green eyes were wide, but they never once left my own. I felt his chest rise and fall in a deep, steadying breath before he began singing again. 

From that moment on, Story of My Life was our song. Every time they performed it, he turned towards the side of the stage during the last chorus, where I sang along. On the rare occasions that I sat in the audience, his eyes always managed to find mine. We sang lines to each other all the time. Our favorite thing to do, much to everyone else’s dismay, was yell Zayn’s pre-chorus to each other from across a room. 

“And I’ll be gone, gone, tonight,” one of us would start. 

“The ground beneath my feet is open wide,” the other would respond. 

“The way that I’ve been holding on too tight,” the first person would say, before we both shouted, “With nothing in betweeeeeeeen!” That line was always the loudest, and we always dragged out the last syllable until we couldn’t breathe anymore. 

Chapter 9

When Harry’s solo album dropped, I was in class, taking my Algebra 101 final. My test-taking nerves were multiplied tenfold by the fact that I knew people were listening to it right now, and I wasn’t. We had kept in touch after One Direction broke up, mostly over text but occasionally, when he was in LA, he came to my house to have dinner with me and my Grandma (and Dad, if he was home).

I listened to it all the way through on the drive back home to Pasadena after I finished my exam, and as soon as I pulled into the driveway, I texted him. 

I signed up for a presale code, and refreshed my laptop continuously for five straight minutes in order to get tickets for his LA show. Harry was furious with me. When I texted him that I was officially coming to the show, he called me in the middle of a meeting with his tour team to yell at me. Something along the lines of, “I put you on the VIP list, you dumbass! And invites to the afterparty were just sent out yesterday!”

To be fair, I just wanted to support my friend, and to this day I still feel uncomfortable asking for free tickets from anyone when I have the means to pay for them. I think it’s all the guilt from five years of attending One Direction concerts for free. But anyways, that next fall, I found myself backstage at the Greek Theater with a VIP badge around my neck, feeling intense deja vu as security led me to Harry’s dressing room. 

“Y/N!” He yelled as soon as the door opened. I had no time to react; I was nearly knocked over by the force of his hug. His mom and sister were there, too, and I was passed around for more hugs before settling next to Harry on the couch. 

“So, how’s it going? How’s school?” he asked, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. That’s one of the things I love most about Harry; no matter how long it’s been since he’s seen someone, he always picks back up like no time has passed. He is scary good at keeping up with what everyone else is doing, even when his own life 

“Kicking my ass already and it’s only been three weeks,” I said with a chuckle. “But better than last year, that’s for sure!” Harry’s brows furrowed and he waited expectantly. “Did I not tell you that my original roommate was psycho?”

“No, I don’t think that’s come up before.” I pulled up a photo on my phone and handed it over to him without a word, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen his eyes wider than they were in that moment. 

“Holy shit,” she said.

“I wanna see!” Gemma whined, leaning across the coffee table to snatch the phone from him. “Oh my god, Mum, look!” She handed the phone to Anne, who frowned down at it. 

“This was your dorm?”

“For all of three days, yes,” you answered. “I’m not sure what creeped me out more, the life-sized cardboard cutout of Harry watching my every move, or the fact that she threatened to blackmail me if I didn’t introduce her to you.” Harry was doubled over with laughter with tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. 

“What are the chances of you, of all people, rooming with a crazy One Direction fan in college?” he asked, struggling to breathe enough to support his vocal chords. 

“The school investigated and they found an invoice for a private investigator on her computer in a folder with a bunch of my personal information and photos of me that looked like they were taken from behind bushes and trash cans. Apparently, she gave him that paparazzi photo from the week we were in London during On the Road Again and he was able to track me down.”

“He was able to figure out your identity from that photo?” I nodded, and Harry looked impressed, yet mildly disturbed. “She must’ve paid a fortune.” The photo in question features all five members of One Direction on their way into the O2 arena, and in the background, you can see the blurry back of my head as I slipped into the back door ahead of them.

When it was time for Harry to get ready, a security guard led Anne, Gemma, and I to the VIP section and we settled in for the show. He killed it on stage, and it was great to see him back in his element, joking with the fans between songs and waving to everyone he made eye contact with. He performed What Makes You Beautiful and the cheers were so loud, even in the small-theater setting, that I knew I would probably have trouble hearing tomorrow. 

“Alright, now normally I’d go straight into Kiwi, but there’s someone special in the audience today and this next song means a lot to the both of us, and she was the one who told me to sing all of the parts even though it feels weird, I hope you’ll forgive me for making you wait a few more minutes,” he said with a smirk, knowing that no one was going to complain about an extra song. My smile widened and Anne wrapped an arm around me, squeezing my shoulder, to acknowledge how special this moment was about to be. Just like old times, Harry looked straight at me as the intro music started to play. 

“Written in these walls are the stories that I can’t explain,” he began, and immediately tears started welling up behind my eyes. I joined in, leaning my head on Anne’s shoulder for support. When he got to the second pre-chorus, he yelled out “And I’ll be gone, gone, tonight!” and held out his mic for the audience to sing the next line, but I caught an almost-imperceptible wink as he smiled up at me and I knew that he could care less if anyone else chimed in.

“The fire beneath my feet is burning bright,” Anne, Gemma, and I screamed, hoping that we were loud enough for him to pick our voices out of the crowd. 

He sang the next line, and so did the audience, but I kept my mouth shut and joined in on the last line. He dragged out “between” so long that he had to jump back in on “I take her home.” I was the only one still singing along with him at that point, and the audience let out confused laughter, looking back and forth trying to figure out why he wasn’t moving on yet. 

Chapter 11

We’ve never talked about how we got together, and once the gossip magazines found out that I was the daughter of One Direction’s former tour manager, they just filled in the blanks themselves. I try not to read those things, but I do remember seeing a few headlines like “CHILDHOOD SWEETHEARTS RECONNECTED!” over that grainy paparazzi photo of us in Holmes Chapel before the Manchester Love on Tour stops. Others spun the fact that I was doing PR on the tour into a fake “HARRY STYLES KISSES EMPLOYEE” scandal, and it just spiraled out of control from there. But I’m getting ahead of myself. 

When the pandemic hit, I was at home in Pasadena with my dad and grandma. We had no other “bubble” because my grandma was immunocompromised. Needless to say, I got very bored very quickly. It got to the point that I would cycle through the contacts on my phone, Facetiming everyone in alphabetical order by last name until someone picked up. Harry was one of the only people who answered every single time. We ended up calling each other almost every day, sometimes to chat, or just to have someone there, in the background, while we went about our days. He was with his band, working on what would eventually become Harry’s House, and I spent many days listening to them work through different lyric and melody combinations while curled up in my childhood bedroom with my work laptop. He even interrupted a Zoom meeting I was in, once, excited to play part of “Music for a Sushi Restaurant” for me.

I was working remotely for a PR firm, after graduating college in 2020, my options were limited and, in the end, the place only gave me an offer because they worked with Columbia Records and knew my dad. I mostly wrote copy about movies to be put on Wikipedia or IMDB, which was super boring, so Harry seriously saved my life by letting me listen in on his studio sessions, or to the audio of whatever show he was watching and his commentary. 

By the time he was able to start prepping for Love on Tour, I was working at the firm’s office building on Sunset,  just about ready to quit my job and sell foot pics online. 

“Come on tour with me,” he said, (seemingly) impulsively, during one of our Facetime sessions in which he patiently listened to me complain about how Mark from accounting wouldn’t stop coming over to my desk to “chat” every hour on the hour. 

“What?” I answered, laughing a little. 

“Seriously, Y/N, it’ll be just like old times! We can race on the dolleys they use to bring the speakers in, and I’ll even let you win this time.” I rolled my eyes.

“It’s not really winning, then, is it?”

“Okay, fine, I won’t let you win. But I am serious, Y/N. You should join me on tour.”

“What am I supposed to do, just follow you around the world like some sad, desperate groupie?”

“I mean, you are a bit sad and desperate.” I flipped him off, to which he responded by cackling with laughter. 

“I’m sad because my job sucks, and desperate to get away from Mark, not to get into your pants.”

“Well, you wouldn’t be my mistress, you’d be doing PR for the tour, obviously.” Harry’s cheeks flushed with the slightest hint of pink, 

“Well, maybe you should have led with that!” I started laughing, too, and it took a while for either of us to be able to speak again. 

“Okay, sorry, I’ll start over.” He took a deep breath to calm his giggles, but still couldn’t manage to keep a straight face. “Y/N Y/L/N, I would like to formally request that you join me as my PR Manager for Love on Tour. My publicist is about to give birth, like, any day now so she obviously can’t go gallivanting around the world. Really, you’d be doing me a favor, and who better than someone who already has my dressing room requests memorized since half of them are actually yours.” 

“You still have the same dressing room requests?” I gave him a skeptical look. 

“Old habits die hard.” He shrugged. “And even though I don’t drink Diet Coke, having it in the fridge makes it feel like you’re there with me.” The pink was now red and I bit my lip to keep myself from smiling too wide. 

“Alright, Mr. Styles, you have a deal.”

Like he said, old habits die hard, so even though we were now adults and my dad wasn’t on tour with us, we still fell into our old routines. Back in the day, I was never allowed to be alone in a room with one of the boys, but we had our ways around it. Usually by walking through the hallways of the floor of the hotel everyone was staying on, checking in with the guards stationed at either side on every loop. So while we could have hung out in our rooms, more often than not, we walked through the hotel hallways in circles just like we used to. 

The night before the Pittsburgh show, Harry showed up at my door at 10pm with a bag of sour gummy worms. 

“It’s not Haribo, but it’s close enough,” he said with a shrug, flashing me his trademark “Harry Styles” grin. And just like that, we were off to wear a hole in the carpet, or so I thought. We hadn’t even made it through one full loop before he pulled me through a random door marked “Employees Only” and dragged me up three flights of stairs. 

“Are you taking me somewhere private so you can murder me?” I asked as we trudged through the dirty stairwell. 

“Something like that,” he answered. But when we reached the top, he opened another door and we were on the roof. 

The view was gorgeous, the moon was bright and cast a cool glow on the Pittsburgh skyline. I turned to Harry with wide eyes.

“Scoped it out earlier,” he said with a sheepish smile on his lips. “Just thought we could use a change of scenery.”

“It’s perfect,” I said, reaching out to squeeze his hand in thanks. “As much as I love hotel hallways, this is better.”

We sat on the edge of the roof, dangling our legs over the top of the building next door, and passed the bag of gummy worms back and forth as we talked. We were out there for so long that my eyelids started to get heavy and our conversation slowed down. I leaned my head on his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around me, huddling closer for warmth (or so I thought). 

“Wanna listen to some music?” He asked. I nodded and he pulled his Airpods out, sticking one in my ear and the other in his own. 

Story of My Life started playing and my heart rate sped up, pulsing adrenaline through my body. Suddenly, I was wide awake and hyper aware of every place our bodies were touching (thighs, hips, my shoulder to his chest, his shoulder to my head, his arm on my bicep). 

I lifted my head up and turned to look at him.

“Do you ever get sick of this song?” I asked. My voice was quiet because I wasn’t sure I actually wanted to know the answer. 

“No,” he replied. His voice was low and raspy and it made my stomach flutter. I felt myself leaning in, unconsciously, as he continued. “It reminds me of you, and I could never get sick of you.” 

He brought his free hand up to my face and rubbed his thumb in soft circles on my cheekbone, and his eyes flickered down to my lips. The distance between us closed as if we were replaying something that had already happened in slow motion. Eventually, I could just barely feel the soft brush of his lips against mine. My mouth fell open just a bit in anticipation of what was to come, but Harry paused. 

“It’s you, Y/N,” he whispered.”It’s always been you.”

Feel free to cross my name out and write in your own, I won’t be mad. I get it; what really happened was better than any self-insert fanfiction.

Chapter 17

I’m going to keep most of the details of our wedding private, but I will tell you about our first dance, because it ties into a lot of the other stories that I’ve written about. If you haven’t noticed by now, Story of My Life is sort of the underlying theme of this book, and that’s because it’s been the underlying theme of my life, the soundtrack to my relationship with Harry. 

After dinner, and some absolutely mental toasts, Harry and I were eager to get the party started. Even though he’s not the best dancer, I have never met anyone who dances with as much joy as Harry does, and I love getting pulled into his wild, spontaneous routines. But our first dance was different. The fairy lights surrounding the garden were twinkling in the moonlight, and Niall, Liam, Louis, and Zayn stood on the sidelines to sing, you guessed it, Story of My Life. We swayed in circles, gently, without trying to put on a show or impress anyone else. It was a beautiful, full circle moment, and the boys even dragged out “between” just a little bit to tease us. 

Life is funny. One minute, you’re sixteen and screaming “The fire beneath my feet is burning bright,” at your best friend and you think that this is it, you will be touring the world with your friends forever, and the next you’re twenty-seven and in a wedding dress, leaving mascara stains on the shoulder of his suit. But I wouldn’t change a thing, because I think it was written in the walls all along. 

[moneymoneygreengreen]

Satosugu fanfiction #2

(WARNING: slight 18+)

this is a headcannon/au so don’t take it seriously.

Satoru, the fluffy white haired boy with sunglasses on his face approached his two friends, Suguru and Shoko. They were both chatting with one another while leaning against a brick wall. When Satoru finally reached the two, he rose a hand up from his pocket with a short, “hey.”

Suguru responded with a “what’s up,” meanwhile Shoko gave a small nod of welcome with the cigarette hanging from the side of her lips.

���Hey, Suguru?” Satoru started while turning his head over to the gorgeous black haired boy. “Do you want to go to that one Italian joint that’s around ///////// after classes? It’s my treat,” Satoru added. “I heard they have pretty good stuff over there.”

Suguru’s lips expands into a warm, soft smile and he answers with a, “I would love to!”

Satoru smiled back but it was more of a grin. “Great! It’s a date then!” He turns around and darts off.

Shoko took a drag from her cigarette and frowned playfully. “Awe, I want to come too! I’d love to see what you and your”- she made air quotes -“boyfriend does when you both go out~” she let out a little chuckle as Suguru punched her arm softly.

///

At around 5:23 pm, Satoru walks with Suguru. The two of them were talking together all day long. Soon enough, Satoru lead Suguru to a shiny, white, brand new Koenigsegg. Satoru grabs the keys from his pockets and presses a button to unlock the car.

Suguru looked at Satoru with an eyebrow raised. “Wait a minute, you never told me you had a car? Let alone, I never knew you could drive!” Satoru chuckled and he says, “That’s because I just got the car today! And uh- I taught myself how to drive.” Suguru grew a bit uneasy but Satoru immediately added, “But don’t worry, I’ve got my drivers license.” Suguru breathed out slowly, glad to hear that.

Satoru Opened the passenger’s door of the Koenigsegg and murmured, “after you.” To Suguru before getting onto the other side of the sports car and getting in.

///

During the 30 minute drive, the two were listening to Taylor Swift and Katie Perry. And singing along to it…

“…California girls, we’re unforgettable! Daisy Dukes bikinis on top…”

They laughed and sung together all the way until they had both reached the Italian restaurant.

When they had reached the restaurant, Satoru had parked the car somewhere in the parking lot and hopped out of the car. He went to the passenger side door where Suguru was sitting and opened the door for him as if he was a princess. “Here you go, your highness~” He teased as Suguru climbed out of the car. the two walked into the restaurant together and took a seat at a booth. It was silent for a moment. Perhaps a little two silent that it was getting a bit awkward. So, Satoru decided to spark up a conversation.

“So, uh… Suguru. Where do you want to go see a movie film after this? I have a movie in mind!” He says. Moving a bowl of food to the side.

Suguru was leaning back against the seat he was in with both of his hands in his lap. “Mmm, sure! What kind of movie is it?” He asked

Satoru answered what movie it was going to be and told him what genre it was. Suguru seemed to be amazed at the movie idea and nodded. “That sounds great! Yeah I’m totally down!” Suguru said.

Satoru grinned. “Well then let’s get going,” he gets up from the booth chair.

Suguru looked from Satoru standing up and straightening out his clothes to the table. “Ummm, aren’t we going to pay?” He asked, his voice lowering a bit in concern. “why would we when we can just go? I just don’t feel like paying.” Satoru said before grabbing Suguru’s arm. “Let’s just go before we get caught!” And he raced off to the door with Suguru trailing behind.

///

While the movie was playing, the two friends were sitting in the car looking at the film like old school, typical teenage men. They were eating popcorn and drinking soda.

Satoru heard Suguru laugh at a scene. He turned his head to look at him. Satoru’s vibrant blue eyes shimmered as they explored Suguru’s beautiful laughing face. The way his eyes closed as tears welled up in them while chuckling softly. He couldn’t believe he just found out how beautiful and handsome his friend was. He gulped as a little bit of red shone on his cheek. Suguru’s slight grin closed back up into a smile as the scene on the movie turned to something else. He can feel Satoru looking at him and slowly glanced at him. He giggled softly before turning his full face to Satoru and kissed his lips before Satoru can turn away.

Satoru was a bit surprised but he closed all six of his eyes and lead into the kiss. His elbow coming off of the windowsill to grab onto Suguru’s back as he kisses him back.

after a nice long minute of them kissing, they slowly, and reluctantly pulled away from each other. A thin line of saliva hanging from each other’s tongues before finally breaking apart. Satoru licked his bottom lip before curling his lips into a smirk and chuckling softly. “W-wow, never expected that…” He mused.

Suguru looked up into Satoru’s glasses and smiled, “Honestly, I didn’t think I’d have the balls to do it…”

Satoru pushed his glasses up onto his head. “Well… can you do it again…?” He asked. And Suguru kisses Satoru again.

this time, their tongues started to explore each other’s mouths a bit and the two started rubbing each other’s backs a lot more. “got damn it, Suguru…” Satoru exclaimed as Suguru swiftly breaks the kiss and lowers his head down to give Satoru’s neck and collarbone small kisses. He takes time unbuttoning Satoru’s shirt and continues to tease Satoru’s neck with licks, kisses and bites. once he took the first three buttons of Satoru’s shirt out, he starts to kiss him on his chest and then down to his torso and well-marked abs. Then finally, once Suguru’s kisses reached Satoru’s pants, Suguru looked up at Satoru. Silently asking if it was okay…

Satoru’s face was extremely flushed and he had the back of his hand up to his mouth but he nodded a yes.

with that, Suguru smirked and his eyes darkened slightly as he opened his mouth to bite on the large hard bulge on Satoru’s pants. “I can’t wait to see what you taste like…”

///

In the morning, Satoru wakes up to find himself naked in the backseat with Suguru also naked but sleeping soundly on Satoru’s chest. He looked like a beautiful sleeping angel… Satoru smiled. He couldn’t believe he just had sex with his best friend—- and he was surprised Suguru accepted himself to be dominated so easily. (“Someday… I swear, I’ll marry you…”) Satoru swore to himself before staring up at the ceiling of the car. “I swear it…”

[mariacallous]

Ryan Wesley Routh, the suspected gunman involved in an apparent assassination attempt on former president Donald Trump at the Trump International Golf Club in Florida on Sunday, was charged with possession of a weapon of mass destruction more than 20 years ago.

“I figured he was either dead or in prison by now,” Tracy Fulk, the charging officer in the case, tells WIRED. “I had no clue that he had moved on and was continuing his escapades.”

According to court records from the Guilford District Court in North Carolina obtained by WIRED, Routh was arrested by the Greensboro Police Department on December 16, 2002.

Local reporting from Greensboro News and Record in 2002 states that Routh was pulled over by police during a traffic stop. Routh then drove to the business United Roofing, where he proceeded to barricade himself for three hours, the police said at the time.

Fulk says he was well known in the area, and that police would get alerts about him allegedly related to, as she remembers, weapons and explosives.

“One night I recognized him in his vehicle,” she says. “I knew he didn’t have a driver’s license, so I stopped him right in front of his roofing shop, which was what used to be on Lee Street in Greensboro. He stopped, and as I approached his truck he pulled a sack away from the center of the seat, and I saw a gun. So of course I drew my gun and started saying, ‘Hey! Show me your hands, show me your hands.’ And he just basically pulled into his driveway and ran into his house. So we ended up having a [Special Response Team] callout and a big standoff for a couple of hours before they went in and we arrested him.”

Routh was charged with possession of a fully automatic machine gun, referred to in court filings as a weapon of mass destruction. He was also charged with carrying a concealed weapon, as well as driving without a valid license and resisting, delaying, and obstructing law enforcement, according to Greensboro News and Record.

While the disposition of the case isn’t entirely clear, Routh did plead guilty to carrying a concealed gun.

Trump was not harmed on Sunday while playing golf. Law enforcement apprehended Routh after a Secret Service agent spotted a rifle sticking out of a perimeter fence on the course and engaged with the threat, firing at least four rounds in that direction. It’s unclear whether the gunman fired a shot. Law enforcement later found an AK-47 style rifle with a scope and a GoPro in the bushes.

The gunman was reportedly seen fleeing the scene and getting into a black Nissan; a witness took photos of the car and license plate, said Palm Beach County sheriff Ric Bradshaw at a Sunday press conference. “We had that information,” said Bradshaw. “Our real-time crime center put it out to the license plate readers, and we were able to get a hit on that vehicle on I-95.” Routh was arrested soon after.

The FBI has said they are investigating “what appears to be an attempted assassination” of Trump. This is the second assassination attempt on the former president; the first occurred on July 13 in Butler, Pennsylvania.

“My resolve is only stronger after another attempt on my life,” Trump wrote in a fundraising email after the apparent assassination attempt. “I will never slow down. I will never give up. I WILL NEVER SURRENDER!”

Fulk says Routh was well known for getting into armed confrontations with police. “I wasn’t the only one who had a standoff with him,” she says. “We always knew he had weapons.” Guilford County court records show Routh was charged dozens of times, often for driving-related offenses, going back to the early 1980s. In regards to why he wasn’t in jail, Fulk says, “All we can do is arrest them, and then obviously it goes into the court system and they decide all of that. It’s frustrating at times.”

The Greensboro Police Department did not immediately respond to a request for comment, nor did a lawyer who represented Routh in his 2003 divorce.

In 2023, Routh told The New York Times that he traveled to Ukraine after the Russian invasion to aid Ukraine and support the war effort. He said he planned to recruit Afghan soldiers who fled the Taliban to fight for Ukraine. There is no evidence that Routh traveled to Ukraine or was successful at recruitment. Social media accounts that appear to be controlled by Routh have been taken down, but were reportedly full of erratic posts espousing Covid conspiracies, threats against Russia, and in support of politicians of a variety of ideologies.

[thenationaltreasuregazette]

Really?? Nicolas Cage and the Art of Weirdness

It’s kind of strange that Nicolas Cage is the star of National Treasure, right? Tame, family-friendly Disney flicks aren’t exactly his brand.

While the casting still strikes me as an odd choice sometimes, I am eternally, supremely, primordially grateful that he took the role of Ben Gates.

As I touched on while discussing Abigail’s Accent, National Treasure isn’t a film with a lot of subtly or nuance. At least, it wasn’t going to be until it slowly morphed throughout production, as giant collaborative projects tend to do.

Just like Diane Kruger brought nuance and depth to the role of Abigail Chase through both her acting choices and the presence of her accent, Nicolas Cage transformed Ben Gates from a generic action-adventure hero into something far superior: an awkward, obsessive forty year old man.

To fully appreciate the Nic Cage of it all, let’s begin with what the role looked like before he signed on.

More ↓

For those unfamiliar, there’s a version of the National Treasure script available online that’s dated from the month before Cage signed on as the lead. It’s hugely fascinating in the ways it’s the same as, and also wildly different from, the finished film. You can read more about it here.

Age

The first major effect casting had was changing Ben’s age. In the 2003 script he’s introduced as

…intrepid explorer BEN GATES(late 20s, strong family resemblance)

Obviously Nic Cage was not in his late 20s in 2004. Born in 1964, he was 39/40 when the film shot and 40 by the time it came out.

We know from Ben Gates’ drivers license that his character is supposed to be 39 in the first film, as his birthday is shown as May 1965. Why the one year difference? Hollywood is allergic to people over 40. Next question.

So, Ben went from a 20-something to a (basically) 40 year old man. And that changed the story in a few subtle but important ways.

First, it makes Ben’s quest take on a different flavor. To be in your late 20s and still chasing a pipe dream is not that unusual or socially unacceptable. People in their 20s do stupid, impulsive, risky things. They are socially ‘allowed’ to be a mess. At 40, not so much. Ben’s peers have houses and families and kids who need to be taken to soccer practice.

This makes a difference to me because it emphasizes the desperation of Ben’s quest, and his absolutely unwavering belief in the treasure. It also paints a starker contrast between Ben and his father, because when Patrick was 29 he was still gallivanting around treasure hunting too. By the time Patrick was the age Ben is now, he had disavowed treasure hunting and “grown up” into a normal life. But Ben just won’t let go. The older Ben gets, the less hope Patrick has that he will eventually grow out of it. At 29 that kind of hope would still feel possible for his son. At 39, it probably doesn’t.

Hotness

I’m so sorry that we have to talk about this, but we do.

Ben Gates was clearly written to be played by a hot young actor. That’s hot as in popular, and also as in sexy.* A typically implausibly fit and handsome leading man. This is evidenced not only by his age, but by the two (2) shirtless scenes written for Ben in the 2003 script.

Ben Gates is supposed to be hot.

And Nicolas Cage is...I'm not going to say "not hot," lord knows I'm on the being-normal-about-that-old-man webbed site but sex appeal not the primary reason you cast him.

What Nic Cage is know for is being weird.

*I’m aroace and vaguely sapphic, help me I don’t know what I’m doing here.

Weirdness

Weird. Eccentric. Zany. Over-the-top. Melodramatic.

These are the qualities Nicolas Cage is famous for, but they aren’t qualities the role of Ben Gates necessarily calls for. In fact, too far in any of these directions, and the performance could push an already implausible movie over the edge into farce. We wouldn’t take Ben or his quest seriously enough to get invested in the story.

But Nicolas Cage knew that. For as absurd as the iconic “I’m gonna steal the Declaration of Independence” line is, it's the premise that's ridiculous, not the performance. This isn’t the place to find one of Cage's signature zany performances. Search any number of "Craziest Nicolas Cage performances" lists and National Treasure won't rank. He tones it down enough that Ben feels like a rather grounded person in an over-the-top story.

However, he doesn’t tone it down completely, and that is so important.

The little places where Cage lets a hint of his signature weirdness flicker through round out Ben as a character, and give him more (or at least a different flavor of) nuance than he might have had in other hands, particularly if he were cast and played as a typically suave and macho leading man.

Case Study (Cage Study?)

Let’s look at this line from the 2003 script. This is what the FBI has to say when they’re searching Ben’s apartment.

AGENT JOHNSON Profilers say we're looking at an adult male, a loner, has a high IQ but has never been able to hold down a job, is socially inept, has probably written numerous letters to the White House expressing antigovernment sentiments. We're expecting him to contact us shortly with ransom demands.

This line is supposed to show us how off the mark the FBI is in their theory. The joke is that they’re all wrong about Ben.

Except, are they?

In this version of the script, every one of these items after “adult male” is incorrect.

Ben’s not a loner; he’s been working with Riley for 7 years.

He hasn’t not been able to hold down a job, he’s been salvage diving and treasure hunting consistently.

He’s not socially inept; he’s a ladies man. We hear multiple references to past girlfriends, and of course there’s Patrick’s assumption that Abigail's pregnant.

And obviously he hasn’t expressed anti-government sentiment and has no plans to ransom the Declaration, even in exchange for his own freedom.

What I want to argue here is that with the casting of Nicolas Cage, most of these false assumptions about Ben became true, at least a little bit. Of course there were many forces at work shaping the final tone and content of the film, but all of them—writing, directing, acting, costume design, etc—became oriented around fitting this character to the man playing him.

Loner

In the final film, Ben is a bit of a loner. He doesn’t seem to have known Riley for that long, and he immediately gets betrayed by the only other person he’s close to. His status as an outsider is emphasized by the fact that he and his family have been ostracized from the historical community.

In the 2003 script, this element isn’t present and Ben gives a fake name for other reasons. We also meet his landlady, whom he’s very kind to, and hear about at least one former girlfriend. In short, we get a sense of the web of people in Ben’s life outside of the treasure hunt. In the final film, Ben is seemingly much more isolated.

Job

We also get no evidence about Ben’s job. The 2003 script makes multiple references to Ben working as a salvage diver, which might not be what he hopes for, but it is a clear profession. In the final movie we only get reference to Ben being trained at the Naval Diving and Salvage Training Center, which implies that he’s qualified to work at a salvage diver, but gives no indication that this is what he regularly does for work.

We also have Patrick saying:

PATRICK I have a job, a house, health insurance. What do you have?

The contrast makes it clear that Ben doesn’t have any kind of consistent job. Now, my guess is he does still work salvage jobs in this version, and that’s how he affords his apartment and the other things he needs to keep treasure hunting, but it’s never directly mentioned.

As to why he doesn’t hold down a job, the obvious answer is that it would interfere with his relentless pursuit of the Charlotte and the Templar Treasure. It makes sense that he simply chooses not to keep a consistent job because that’s not compatible with his goals. However, I want to raise the possibility that Ben would struggle to hold down a job even if he tried. If, say, he needed some expensive new diving equipment and took a several months long “normal” job in order to afford it, I think he’d be constantly distracted by the treasure and might quit and/or get fired the next time he needed to dash off on a lead.

Socially inept

Likewise, in the final movie, Ben is charming and clever and all the things a leading man is supposed to be, and also awkward and fairly socially clueless.

On the Charlotte he seems surprised that Ian and his guys turn out to be armed criminals, so either he was so desperate for resources and support to continue the hunt that he’s in denial or he’s very bad at reading people. Or at least, very bad at reading Ian. Maybe both. (There’s also the matter of his very poor attempt at bluffing in this scene.)

He’s awkward with Abigail in their meeting in her office, and even more awkward giving the toast. She even points out to him that he says the poetic things that are on his mind even though most people know they're not supposed to do that.

Then of course we have the “cavalier in my personal life” exchange, which I plan to dig into in depth at a later time, but for now let’s leave it at: Ben is not always on the same page as the people he’s in relationships with.

And there’s the very strange reading of the line “really?” after Ben and Abigail survive the collapsing staircase sequence. He’s amazed that he’s met someone who would also prioritize a historical artifact over personal safety, and he delivers the line just…weirdly.

Conclusion

He’s weird! (affectionate)

Ben Gates is a weird guy!

By the final film, Ben Gates had become a hybrid of the thing he was always supposed to be—a suave, swashbuckling hero—and the thing he was not supposed to be—a weirdo outcast on the fringes of society.

To draw a comparison to another popular Disney adventure flick that came out the year before: Ben was supposed to be the Will Turner of National Treasure, the hunky young underdog who always gets the girl. By casting Nicolas Cage and letting him bring a little history and a little weirdness to the role, Ben Gates ended up edging just a liiiiiiittle bit into Jack Sparrow territory as well.

He occupies both spaces, and I think that duality serves to deepen his character and make him far more interesting than if he was a straight-forward action-adventure hero.

Hooray for weird middle-aged men.