#i’m just gonna sit here and wallow in my adoration for this character

[greatvaluegirlfriend]

dylan from severance makes me want to CHEW shards of freshly broken glass that man means the world to me and i CRY

#severance #dylan severance #zach cherry #the choices he makes #i’m just gonna sit here and wallow in my adoration for this character #dylan g

[delilahdoesthings]

the day you slipped away

warning: this contains major character death. if this is not your cup of tea, i would click away. Read the full fic here

It was two o'clock in the morning and Carly's world had just been shattered.

"No, no, I'll be okay." Carly said into the phone. "Uh huh...yeah, thanks for letting me know. Mhmm...okay...bye." Carly hung up and immediately collapsed onto her bed, wailing into her pillow.

Freddie and Millicent had gone out to a special father-daughter dinner. He'd been worried about Millicent feeling abandoned now that he was dating Carly, and had wanted to do spend some one on one time with her. They were two blocks away from the Bushwell on their way back when they were t-boned by a driver running a red light. Thankfully, Millicent was mostly okay, with just a few scratches and a broken arm.

Freddie died on impact.

Carly let out another sob. Her body was shaking, tears pouring down her cheeks. Her heart felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer and beat her on the chest with it. It wasn't fair. Freddie was still so young, had so much life left to live. So much more time to spend with his mother, his friends, with Carly...

A knock on the door interrupted Carly's thoughts.

"Carly, it's two in the morning." Harper said from the other side of the door. "Is everything okay?"

"No." Carly sobbed, and Harper opened the door.

"What happened?!" Harper's eyes went wide as she took in Carly's appearance.

"He's gone." She whispered. "He's really gone."

"Who's gone?" Harper asked urgently, already feeling like she wasn't going to like the answer to that question.

"Freddie." Carly put her pillow to her face and screamed.

"Oh my god." Harper's jaw dropped. "Carly, I am so, so sorry."

"What am I gonna do?!"

Harper placed one hand on Carly's back. "The first thing you're going to do is breathe."

Carly took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. In. Out. She didn't quite feel better, but it was something, at least.

"Good." Harper said. "That's it, just keep breathing."

"It's not fair."

"I know it's not." Harper agreed.

"I really don't know what to do."

"You need to get some sleep, girl." Harper said. "You'll feel better in the morning."

Carly doubted it. She didn't think she'd ever feel okay again. She also wasn't sure how she was going to make it through the night. "Can you stay in here with me?"

"Of course." Harper said, standing up to turn off the light. "Scoot over." Carly did.

Harper climbed into bed next to Carly. "Goodnight, Carly."

"Goodnight." Carly said sadly, and rolled over on her side.

The next morning Carly woke to an empty bed and the smell of pancakes. Good, she thought. This must mean last night was a horrible nightmare and she'd walk into that kitchen and see Freddie sitting at her kitchen island while Harper cooks breakfast. She pulled her phone off her nightstand and immediately, Carly's heart dropped. There were dozens upon dozens of messages all saying some variation on the same thing: I'm sorry for your loss.

Fuck. Last night was real.

She ran to the bathroom and immediately emptied the contents of her stomach. He was gone. He was really gone. Carly would never see him again, or hear his dorky but adorable laugh, or kiss him, or tell him she loved him.

She never told him she loved him.

She puked again.

Finally, Carly rinsed her mouth out and made her way to the kitchen where, to her surprise, Spencer was at the stove making pancakes.

"Is there any reason you're making breakfast in my kitchen?" She asked.

"Harper told me what happened." Spencer said seriously. "I thought a nice breakfast from your favorite brother might help."

"You're my only brother." She replied. "And while I appreciate the thought, I really don't feel like eating right now."

"Well it's here if you change your mind."

"Thanks." She offered him a weak smile. Her chest ached, badly, and she wanted nothing more than to lay in bed all day and wallow in her own sadness. But Carly knew her friends weren't about to let her do that. She didn't know whether to feel grateful or angry.

Carly knew she would be depending on Spencer and Harper for a long time.

"I talked to Lewbert this morning." Spencer said. "Mrs. Benson's a wreck and Millicent's not much better, but they'd like you to stop by if you're feeling up to it."

"She was always worried something would happen to Freddie." Carly noted. "Who knew...who knew she'd actually be right?" Her eyes filled with tears.

"Hey, hey." Spencer wrapped an arm around his sister's shoulders. "It was an accident. There was nothing you or Mrs.Benson could have done to prevent this."

"It feels like it's my fault." Carly admitted, tears streaming down her cheeks. "He wouldn't have even gone out to that dinner if he wasn't with me."

"Don't think like that." Spencer responded. "You were not responsible. The only person who's at fault for this is the driver who decided they were going to ignore the traffic laws and put people's lives at risk. Not you. All you did was love Freddie."

"I never told him."

"You didn't have to. He knew." Carly gave her brother a look.

"He did." Spencer insisted. "I could see it in the way he looked at you."

Carly whimpered. "I want this to be a nightmare, and any second I'll wake up to a good morning text or some dorky joke he came up with to make me laugh. He always wanted to make me laugh."

Carly sighed. "Thanks for coming over. I really don't want to be alone right now."

"You don't have to be." Spencer promised.

Carly knew she'd be feeling the pain of Freddie's death for a long time, if not the rest of her life. But with Spencer and Harper, Millicent and Mrs.Benson by her side, the pain would become bearable.

She just knew it.

#icarly #creddie #carly x freddie #carly shay #freddie benson #angst

[phantomrose96]

Fenton Fact

Danny leaned back against the red brick chimney of the Casper High roof, and he looked across the stretch of land rolling far off from the building top. For a place so off-limits, so hidden-away from the normal bustle of the school, the view really wasn’t anything special. Sure, the school was decently tall, but it overlooked the staff parking lot, and the empty Casper High tennis courts, and the back of a strip mall two blocks over with the recently-haunted laundromat.

Not that it mattered. It took more than tall-building-views to impress Danny anyway, even the nice ones. And he wasn’t up here for the view.

Danny let his eyes drift shut.

“Sup loner, room for one more?”

Danny startled, and it wasn’t Sam’s voice specifically that startled him. (He’d grown used to her bursting from his Fenton Phone earpiece during most nightly patrols.) He’d just lulled himself a bit too comfortably into the idea that no other human could follow him to the top of the locked rooftop of the Casper High building.

“Did I just surprise a ghost?” Sam asked. “Should I do it again with a ‘boo’?”

“Haha,” Danny answered with a fake chuckle. He blinked himself back to prickly awareness, drowsiness batted away like dust bunnies, and stared up at Sam. “I’m not surprised. I just wasn’t expecting anyone else to be on the roof. How did you even—”

Sam was a few steps ahead of him. In explanation, she waggled the Fenton-branded grappling hook gripped in hand.

Danny leaned back with a faux-exasperated sigh. “Since when do you even have a grappling hook?”

“Since I told your mom it would be a wildly cool line of gear to add to the Fenton brand.”

“Does this mean my mom now has a grappling hook too?”

“Yes. And your dad. And Jazz. And Tucker.”

“Great. When I go home and all the ceiling fans are torn down I’ll know why.”

A gentle silence lapsed over them, punctuated with the swell of fall wind.

“So…” Sam continued. “Can I sit here?”

“Huh?” Danny looked at her, anchoring his drifting thoughts once more. “Oh, yeah. I thought the ‘yeah’ was implied.” Danny shuffled a bit to the side, back still resting against the chimney. He patted the spot he cleared. “What am I gonna tell you? No?”

“Just making sure.” Sam stowed the grappling hook to the side of her belt and settled into the spot beside Danny, feet outstretched. “In case maybe you wanted some alone time.”

“’Alone time’ isn’t really something I get anymore. I’ve had about a hundred-too-many ghosts crash through my bedroom for that.”

“So why the roof?”

“Roof is more for uh…” Danny twirled his hand, “‘less adoring crowds’ time. ‘Less classmates ogling me’ time. You can stay so long as you don’t ask me to sign anything.”

“I was never interested in the parasocial or capitalistic value of celebrity signatures. Besides, you cross your ‘t’s weird.”

Danny replied with a half-hearted chuckle. His line of sight drifted into the middle-distance again, unfocused.

“Is it getting to be too much?” Sam asked.

“Hmm?” Danny answered, eyes shifting back to her.

Sam gestured broadly, hands and arms outstretched. “You know just. All this. Everything.”

“…Nah.”

Another small silence grew from the cracks in the concrete between them.

“Paulina and Star are looking for you. You know that, right?”

“Oh, are they?”

“Danny. You knew that.”

“Maybe.”

“…And you’re not interested in seeing what they want?”

“I figure Tucker is keeping them busy.”

“You’re unfortunately right.”

“Phantom Phacts?”

“Phantom Phacts.” Sam nodded. “I made him promise to leave out any embarrassing trivia from the trivia section.”

“Thanks for that,” Danny answered. “Is his presentation any good?”

“You think I’ve ever stuck around to hear it?”

“Fair.”

Sam pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around her legs and set her chin to her knees, staring forward.

“You’re really not interested in sitting with Star and Paulina for lunch?”

“Not really. Why? Is that bad?”

“No, it’s absolutely great. But I’m…” Sam shrugged, “surprised, I guess. I feel like usually you’d jump at the opportunity. And I kinda don’t think you’re refusing because you’ve suddenly recognized the banality of A-lister status.”

“Maybe that is what happened, you don’t know that. Down with capitalism, Sam.”

“Danny.” Sam tilted a fraction to face him. “I’m worried that this is all too much for you, and you just won’t admit it.”

Danny sat with the silence that followed. “I don’t think it’s too much. I’m just—I dunno. I mean. I’m just not feeling it.”

“…You can admit if it’s overwhelming, Danny. I’ll be the first to shut down ‘Phantom Phacts’ if it is.”

“Nah, nah let Tucker have his fun. He’s not the problem. It’s… I dunno.” Danny pushed himself taller against the chimney, upright now and unslumped. “It’s a little bit overwhelming, I guess, maybe. But it’s kind of what I expected. Maybe even a little easier than I was expecting. I thought I’d be dealing with a lot of Phantom-hate once everyone knew but, I guess that kind of died down a long time before everyone knew.”

“Valerie holding you at gunpoint in the cafeteria wasn’t Phantom-hate?”

“We’ve had a lot of good talks since then, okay?”

Sam let out a quiet laugh. “So then… why aren’t you sitting with the popular kids right now?”

“I just didn’t want to, I guess?”

“And why didn’t you want to?”

“It just didn’t really feel right.”

“Is it because of me?” Sam asked, another side-long glance cast to Danny. “Because you can sit with them. I’ll still make fun of you if you do, but you don’t have to… not sit with them because of me.”

“What? Huh—no. Nah, nah I mean I do care what you think Sam. But I mean if I wanted to be sitting with them then I would so. I mean. You don’t have to worry that it’s you.”

“So then what is it?”

Danny took a moment to answer.

“It’s just… it’s a feeling. I dunno. Like.” Danny spread his arms out. “The invitation is wrong? Or the invitation isn’t actually for me?”

“…The invitation is for Phantom instead?”

Pensive indecision set into Danny’s eyes. “That’s not totally it. Because I mean I AM Phantom. I’m not not me when I’m Phantom. Maybe I trash-talk a little more in ghost form but I’m not… not me. That’s still just me. You know that.”

“Right, yeah, no Danny. It just sounded like that’s what you were saying.” Sam let her legs slide out a few inches. “So what are you saying?”

Danny sat with the question. “When the news first picked up on Phantom, way back when—Inviso-Bill?—that wasn’t really anyone, you know? They made up some spooky icon to make the news about. Which was just like, whatever, not me. I didn’t even take ‘Inviso-Bill’ too personally because that just wasn’t me. And even when I stopped being an enemy and started actually being ‘Danny Phantom’… no one actually got it right, you know? They kind of came up with a character for me. Just some hero. I listen to the news and how they talk about me and I think, even now, I think ‘That isn’t me.’”

Danny pulled his knees in, a mirror to Sam, and stared down into his tattered jean fabric. “And when everyone learned I’m Phantom I guess I kind of expected them to be like ‘Oh it’s Fenton’ and then that fake version of Phantom would go away.” Danny raised his eyes to Sam, far more bothered than before. “…I think the opposite happened. They don’t look at Phantom and think ‘oh it’s Fenton’. They look at Fenton and think ‘oh it’s Phantom.’ I think Danny Fenton got put away. I think the person I was for 14 years doesn’t exist to them anymore. Whoever they invited to lunch isn’t me. He doesn’t exist. But I’m suddenly responsible for him. And it’s not even me.”

Danny paused. “And now I’ve been wondering like… how long until I disappoint them? You know? How long until I do something that makes them angry because I’m not doing the thing they expect ‘Phantom’ to do? How long until they start seeing there’s too much ‘Fenton’ in me and they start to hate me for it all over again? For them to really like me, I don’t think I can be me, and I don’t know how to do that. I don’t know how to be someone who doesn’t just disappoint everyone in the end.”

A long gust of wind swept between them, stealing away the seconds.

“…So now you’re hiding on the roof.”

“It was the easiest solution to my problem.”

“But not a lasting one, if you ever want to get down.” The wind settled, and Sam swept a lock of hair behind her ear. “…Do you care if you disappoint them?”

Danny shrugged. “I. Yeah. I think. I don’t—I don’t think I totally know for certain, but I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”

“Well, you’re not going to disappoint me, or Jazz, or Tucker—and if Tucker does act disappointed over any lost Phantom Phacts ventures I’ll whap him over the head. But I mean, we know who you are. We’re not going to be disappointed realizing you’re not ‘Phantom.’ The worst you can do is land right back where you started.”

“And what if I started acting like ‘Phantom’ instead. Would that disappoint you guys?”

“Do you want to act like ‘Phantom’?”

Danny paused. “…No. Not at all.”

“Then don’t. It’s that simple.” Sam stood, and she stretched until her back popped. “It’s not your responsibility to uphold whatever delusions people project onto you. I won’t hesitate to call them out on it. You know I’m good at being direct, and you know I’m even better at making enemies.”

“I don’t wanna be mean to them though when they’re finally being nice.”

“They’re not being nice, they’re projecting. If their niceness to you is conditional on you fitting to the box they created for you, that’s not nice, that’s manipulation, and it’s exactly the root of my ever-frothing disdain for popularity. It’s always some element about popular people that people latch on to, and they can fit the box that people give them, or they can reject it and find themselves wallowing amongst us outcasts. Don’t do that to yourself, Danny. Don’t live in their chains.” Sam tilted her head to Danny. “You spend all day trapping ghosts into tight little boxes and you can’t even recognize when it’s happening to you. I think you’d be better at spotting this.”

“It’s a cylinder, really. The thermos. It’s a cylinder. And don’t say ‘box’ so much. You might summon company.”

“You just said ‘box’ though.”

“I did say ‘box’.”

“Box.”

“Box.”

Sam laughed, noise trailing light on her lips. “…Feeling any better?”

“A little, I think… I still… I still think I... it's not as easy to just say 'I don't care if I disappoint them.' It's still scary. I don’t want to end up proving them right that they were right to hate me all along.”

“Are the opinions of Dash Baxter really the ones to be holding on a pedestal? Is his opinion of you really more important than what you think of yourself? You’ve been through this with the A-listers already. Don’t torture yourself again just because the door is wide open. I promise you Danny, it won’t make you happy.”

“So I should just do whatever makes me happy?”

“Every time.” Sam nodded.

"Even if I'm a total disappointing loser?"

"All the better."

"Even if I blow any chance I have with Paulina out the window?"

“Wouldn't have it any other way. Got any idea what you intend to say to her when she finds you?”

Danny paused. He pushed himself standing. “Maybe I could talk her ear off about NASA until she gets bored of me?”

“Excellent. Can I join? I have a lot to say about SpaceX and private capital encroaching on space exploration.”

“Does that apply to me? I’ve been to space. Am I private capital?”

“You’re not private capital.”

“Then what am I?”

“Annoying.” Sam locked arms with Danny, and dragged him along forward, her combat boots clunking against the rooftop. “And my friend. Come on. I’ll brief you on everything wrong with privately-owned space exploration while we’re rappelling down the side of the building with my sick and cool as hell grappling hook.”

“I can fly.”

“And I have a sick grappling hook. What’s your point.”

“It’s probably called a ‘Fenton Hook.’”

“Is that a Phantom Phact?”

Danny shook his head, and a smile pulled on his lips. “Nah. I think it’s a Fenton Fact.”

#danny phantom #dp #dp fanfiction #-lobs this over the fence-

[somereaderinblue]

Jiang Wanyin VS Mu Qing

I once saw a post that mentioned how JC stans try to push JC’s characterization onto MQ and I’m just sitting there like.......wtf? Bcz frankly, if they ever truly met face-to-face, I’ll bet my left kidney that MQ will despise JC. Hell, I think MQ and JC couldn’t be anymore different from each other and here’s why.

(Note: This is gonna be a long rant but pls, bear with me.)

First of all, let’s look at their family backgrounds. JC was born as the heir to Yunmeng Jiang with two respected/powerful cultivators as parents. But MQ? He was born to a poor household in a dark alley, his father was a sinner that had been beheaded and his mother was a seamstress who eventually got bad eyes and could no longer continue her job.

Bcz of his poor background, MQ wasn’t even allowed to cultivate until XL noticed his potential and recommended him personally. You wanna say ‘oh poor JC, he’s always in WWX’s shadow’ well boo-hoo, it sucks to be in second place just as much as it sucks to have no place at all! 

How, just by knowing this, how can you think MQ is anything like JC? JC grew up with all the privileges as the son of one of the highest gentries. While he was raging about losing his dogs bcz of a traumatized boy, MQ was an errand boy/ servant working his ass off to feed his own mother. He was shunned and scolded just for wanting to give her cherries.

If anything, MQ probably resonates more with WWX who was in a similar position as him since he was constantly viewed as ‘the son of a servant’. MQ was constantly looked down upon, bullied and unable to fight back or he’ll get kicked out. His only protection was XL; similar to how only JFM could make WWX’s abusive life just a bit more tolerable.

Then there’s also this post which canonically proves how JC’s place in society was always set in stone. He grew up with everything already handed to him: a well-respected status, a fancy household, warm food on the table everyday, etc. But MQ? He had to diligently work hard, he had to put in raw effort to rise through the ranks and had to consciously prove himself worthy of it.

There’s also the fact that for all of MQ’s supposed prickliness, the children in his home area adore him. Him, the one whom us readers have come to assume was an unapproachable edgy character, has a soft spot for children and vice versa. They call him ‘gege’ and he gives them cherries and candy. He cares for them and relates to them.

As for JC, let’s face it. Without WWX as his social buffer, who would want to befriend him? Without WWX around to distract you from his unpleasantness, without him around as part of the package, who would willingly approach JC with a genuine offer of friendship? Would JC even know shit about forming non-toxic relationships?

Then there’s the fact that MQ can actually take care of himself and others. He was XL’s personal attendant; he knows how to cook, clean and sew. When everything was going to shit, he still tried to take care of XL and he could bcz he knows first-hand what it’s like to live a rough life of doing back-breaking labour and swallowing your pride just so you can put food on the table & a roof over your head.

But JC? After the Fall of Lotus Pier, WWX was the one to take care of him. WWX who had the foresight to ensure he had money stitched into the hems of his clothes as preparation and getting food for them to eat. WWX, the man he used as his emotional sandbag, the man he tried to strangle after saving his ass. All he could do was sit on his ass and wallow in misery. Okay fine, I’ll admit that yes, he has been through a shitty ordeal BUT! So has WWX and you don’t see him being mopey, do you? Without WWX around, JC would’ve died in a ditch if he hadn’t been caught by Wens first.

And unlike JC, MQ gets reconciliation and he does it right- he earns it. MQ actually takes action to fix his mistakes whereas for JC, literally the only thing he could do at the end was not take action to salvage what little was left after he kicked the dead dog over and over for the past 13 years. And even that alone speaks volumes- at the end, JC does nothing and still walks off with minimal consequences bcz of his high-ranking station.

But MQ willingly volunteered to help XL as Fu Yao again and again, stands by his side to face Jun Wu/ Bai Wuxiang and personally fixed Ruoye. If it were JC, you think he’d do that? Does the guy even know how to sew?? (He probably would’ve pawned it off to a lower subordinate to settle then take credit for it.) And unlike JC who only went to the Burial Mounds to drag WWX back and ignore the blatant injustice the Jins were doing, MQ continued to visit XL while he was waiting for HC’s return to check on him, to make sure he’s doing well, to show his concern and support as a true friend that cares.

Thus, I conclude my case.

JC stans, pls don't clown my post.

#tgcf #heaven official's blessing #tgcf meta #mu qing #mdzs #mdzs meta #analysis #canon jiang cheng #anti jiang cheng

[sensitive-charmy]

Yeah so I just read Boys.

(Linked here on the off chance that you haven’t read it yet and would like to.)

Internalized homophobia prevented me from looking up any kind of Soriku anything for the entirety of my time in this fandom. It’s only been as of this year that I can confidently and openly say I ship Soriku. So I finally started looking up Soriku fanfics maybe like a month ago? I wanna compile a list of all my favs and share them, but I’m guessing many of you have read them already. But uh, just finished Boys. And wowie. This is gonna be a long, unnecessary post. I’m emotionally raw.

Part of me wishes I would’ve read it years ago. Because I’ve been here. I just wasn’t searching for Soriku or homosexual relationships / fics at all.

Another part of me is ecstatic that I found it now. After 2020, I have created an endless amount of bad habits that deter me from making friends or having any kind of social life. And in summer of 2021, I moved out of my home state alone. I haven’t made an effort to commit to this new community I’m in. I haven’t made any effort to meet new people. And I simultaneously cut off a ton of people from my home. I’m more lonely now than I have ever been. More unhealthy and more depressed than I can fathom. And in three days, I read Boys, and I swear, things are gonna change.

I don’t know how long it’s gonna take, and I don’t know what steps I need to take first. But instead of sitting here and wallowing in my own self pity and sadness, I’m gonna take the life I want to live by both hands and make it mine. Boys was the push I needed, I think. While reading, I was reminded that the only thing standing in my way is me.

The emotional toll it took on me, the nostalgia it ripped from me, the intensity of which I connected with it, was unlike anything I’ve ever read. That fic is not just any fic. It is a cosmic work of art. (And that’s not to say that others’ fanfics aren’t art. What fanfic authors do is beyond what I can imagine. I appreciate and adore each of them for taking the time out their lives to write something rooted in passion and post it publicly for everyone to read for free. It’s insane what y’all do. And you are treasured members of this community.)

But from the very first sentence, I knew Boys was different. Nearly 170k words. And what’s the plot? Um. Boys being boys. High school AU. Okay, sounds cliche. No, you don’t understand. It’s so much more than that. 1995 homophobia. Legit representation of realistic boys who don’t always talk through things and hold onto anger for years and fight when words fail them. Intentional and genius use of music and events of the early 90s. Stylistically the most beautiful thing I’ve read.

That was so much more than a Soriku fic or an Akuroku fic. That was a novel in itself. The characterization for each character was beyond perfect. The detail used to describe each of them and their unique personalities and styles was amazing. I could see everything so crystal clear.

I just finished it last night, so maybe my withdrawal is what’s making it seem so rosy. But I’m tempted to say it’s my favorite thing I’ve ever read. Not just out of all the fanfics. But out of all the professionally published novels and books and series I’ve read across my entire life. Nothing else has affected me so dramatically emotionally. And I want to do something about it. I can’t just sit here with all of this bouncing around in my brain. Thinking about it physically moves me.

#let me be dramatic #I’m feeling a lot #boys fanfic #boys #fanfic #soriku #akuroku #kh fanfic #kingdom hearts fanfic #kh #kingdom hearts #90s grunge #long post #text post #emotional rant

[itsallyscorner]

I don’t know if it’s too much to ask, but when you’re done with all your requests, can you please do a part 2 of getting to know you?❤️

Hello darling!💕 Thank you for the request and I’m so sorry it took me so long; I was waiting for Cherry to come out to write this and I also have time to finally write. I hope you like it!💕 *CHERRY SPOLIERS*

A/n: Hello my loves! I just wanted to say that these kind of fics are the closest I will get to writing for Cherry. I will not be writing about the characters in the story, I will only be writing about the filming process, working with Tom, etc. Now that I mentioned that, I wanted to let you all know that this is going to be a bit more of a happier fic! I see a lot of people writing about the hard parts of filming Cherry so I thought why not have a little fun one? I’m sure they had some laughs on set, I briefly remember Ciara and Tom mentioning it. But yeah that’s all, enjoy the fic! Ally xx

💌.

I’m Really Happy You’re Here

(GIF @thollandgifs )

Tom watched you from a distance. From where he was, he could hear the sound of your bubbly laugh and see that bright smile on your face. Your smile was contagious. The way your eyes crinkled at the ends and how your smile squished into your cheeks was something he’s grown fond of over the past eight weeks. Though the difference from the previous weeks was that your cheeks were fuller and the bleak expressions of Emily did not shadow your face anymore.

The last eight weeks of filming have been rough. Both on you and him, along with the rest of the cast and crew. Having to begin filming with the ‘Dope Life’ section of the movie was not a pleasant way of starting a months long project. He felt drained after every shoot, spending his time on set crying, kicking, and screaming. Not to mention he was also starving himself to enhance the ‘druggy’ look on his features. After those eight weeks they had to transition into the part of Cherry’s life where he’s falling in love with Emily. The transition from being an addict to becoming a lovesick college student was a tricky one for Tom. The sudden switch in the film’s dynamic, made Tom doubt himself. From the intense scenes and screaming to being all loving and sweet, he was self-conscious that he was not doing enough. Though you were quick to debunk his doubts. You kept your promise of being there for him and gave him the freedom to be vulnerable. You didn’t judge him, you listened to him ramble and understood the struggles he was facing. Because of this, you helped him through the transition of druggy to lovesick college student. 

It wasn’t hard to act like he was falling in love you. You have been so supportive and patient with him during the previous weeks that he���s grown to adore you. On and off set you made sure he knew you were not only his co-worker but his friend. When he had a rough day, you were there to pick him up. Or that one time when he had a bit of a panic attack and you were instantly by his side to guide him out of it. There were many reasons as to why you are so dear to him, he could have gone on for days listing them. But overall, it was your lovable nature that lured him in since the very beginning he’s met you.

He felt like Cherry in that one scene you guys shot in the classroom. The one where he’s gazing at Emily and admiring her features. Except you didn’t stare back at him, instead you were having a very animated conversation with your makeup artist and one of the stylists. You were dressed in Emily’s clothes, white stockings, a jean skirt, and that cherry pink jacket with flowers embroidered onto it. He thought you looked so adorable and carefree kicking around leaves with your brown ankle boots and playfully swinging your arms around. Tom felt his lips unconsciously twitch upwards at the sight of you.

Harry, who had been eyeing his older brother, nudged him roughly. Tom whips around to look at him, sending him a glare for rudely interrupting his train of thought.

“What?” Tom hissed.

Harry smirked, motioning to you, “(Y/n) looks really pretty today.” Tom distinctly squints an eye at Harry before looking over his shoulder. The glare for his brother softening once you come into view.

“I mean, doesn’t she always? She’s a beautiful woman.”

“And you’re absolutely whipped.” Harry remarked with a smug grin on his face.

“So I can’t call someone beautiful without being absolutely whipped for them now?” Tom retorted crossing his arms. Harry raised his hands up defensively, “You can mate, chill. I’m just saying that because you’re literally staring at her with a stupid love haze in your eyes.”

“No I’m not.” Tom scoffed, hoping to get his brother off his case. Harry stared at him blankly and rolled his eyes, “Whatever, they want you on your mark.”

The filming location was a secluded park located somewhere in Cleveland. The park was set up to appear as a cemetery, gray gravestones were placed on the ground and gothic statues scattered the place. The scene was supposed to be a meaningful one for Cherry and Emily. Emily was going to be telling Cherry about her abusive father and he was going to tell her he loved her.

Tom sat on the grass and leaned against the stone statue where his mark was located. He looked around his surroundings in curiosity. A few feet away from him was the crew, the Russos, and a tent that sheltered the monitors. He breathed in, wallowing in the crisp air of Cleveland’s autumn weather. It was a bit chilly, but not to the point where you were shivering and left with chattering teeth. The vintage looking jacket he was given and the black beanie on his head was enough to keep him warm. His eyes continued to wander around the park, shifting along the trees and studying the clusters of yellow and orange.

“Hey you.” Your gentle voice breaks through the quiet murmurs of nature and the crew surrounding him. Tom’s eyes instantly set themselves upon your figure, their focus on you and only you. The trees and cameras behind you faded in the background. His gaze followed your figure as you moved to sit beside him.

“Hey.” His voice is soft making you hum in response. Being the gentleman he was, Tom held out his hand to help you sit on the ground. You quietly thank him. He watches as you rest your head against the stone and shut your eyes.

“Still sleepy?” He chuckles nudging your shoulder. You giggle along, lazily nodding. Your eyes open again and he’s met with your stunning (eye color) orbs. They were bright and filled with joy even though you were clearly tired.

You turn your head to the side to face him, “I barely got any sleep last night.”

Tom’s brows drew together in concern, “Why didn’t you get any sleep?”

“I may or may not have watched The Nun by myself last night.” You cringed. Tom let out a dramatic gasp, “Darling, why would you do that to yourself?”

“I was bored and I couldn’t find anything else to watch. I thought watching a horror movie would be a good idea, but I was wrong.” You explained, shaking your head at yourself. You breathed out a laugh, remembering how terrified you were the night before.

Tom joined you, also shaking his head. “Why didn’t you ask Harry and I to join? We could’ve watched it for movie night. Then you wouldn’t have to be alone and you’d have two body guards to protect you from the scary nun.” He teased you poking your side. You squeaked and swatted his finger away.

“You guys were going out for dinner. I thought you might want to have some quality time with your brother.” You stifled a yawn, your nose scrunching after, making Tom pout at your sleepy state. He glanced in front of him to see everyone still occupied in side conversations. The Russos were haunched behind the tent discussing things about the scene.

Tom turns back to you and motions to his lap. You give him a questioning look. You glance at his lap, not completely understanding him. Tom followed your stare, realizing that you were probably getting the wrong message.

“Oh! No—I meant that you could sleep on my lap or something. I don’t think we’re gonna start filming for a few more minutes, so I thought you might want to squeeze in a little nap.” He explained, words jumbling together in panic. Your heart swelled at how sweet Tom was.

The two of you were silent, staring at each other before bursting out in laughter. Tom squeezed his eyes shut, fingers holding his temples, “God, I’m sorry, that was embarrassing.”

You chuckled resting your head on his shoulder, “It’s okay, you had good intentions.” When your laughs die down, you look up at him. “Does your offer for the nap still stand? I think I can use it.”

“Of course it does.” Tom shifts so there’s space on his thigh for you to rest your head on. He helps you lay down, fixing your hair so it’s not in your face. He leaves a hand to play with the strands, mesmerized at how luscious it was. He notices that he’s probably invading your space and pulls his hand away, apologizing.

You make a noise of disagreement, pulling his hand back. “It’s ok, feels nice.” You mumble, eyes closing and a content expression on your face. Tom played with your hair; being careful to not tangle any strands or pull on them too hard. He couldn’t help but study your features. To name a few, he took the time to memorize the way your lashes brushed against your cheeks, the shape of your nose, and the curve of your lips. Your lips. They looked remarkably soft and had a tint of pink to them. Tom found his eyes flickering down at your lips the most than your other features.

He was so caught up in admiring you that he didn’t notice the words coming out of his mouth.

“I’m really happy you’re here.”

Your eyes snap open dancing with amusement. A toothy grin forms on your mouth.

“Did you just quote the movie?” You question him, referring to the previous scene you were both shooting a couple of days ago. Tom becomes flustered, the blood rushing to his fair cheeks.

“Yes, shut up.” He muttered, bouncing his thigh, causing your head to loll to the side. You giggle elbowing his stomach. “Well were you practicing your lines? ‘Cause they’re for the wrong scene, Tommy.” You tease him.

Tom playfully rolls his eyes and looks down at you. His hands were still tangled in your hair, the soft strands like silk in between his fingers. “No, I know that—but I’m serious. I’m really happy you’re here with me. I know I’ve told you this so many times but I can’t imagine filming this movie with anyone else. And you’ve been so loyal and trusting, I feel so comfortable with you. You’ve always had my back and I’m really thankful for that. So thank you for—being you.”

You give him a lopsided grin, “You know, you don’t have to always thank me. We made a promise to always have each other’s back. I’m one to keep my word but at the same time you’re my friend, Tom. I’m not being nice to fulfill a promise, I genuinely care about you.” Tom beams while you continue.

“It honestly goes both ways, I should also be thanking you. The beginning of filming was very taxing and somehow you’ve made it bearable for me to come into work not worrying about losing my shit on everyone. So thank you, Tom.” You finish, reaching out to interlock your fingers with his free hand.

Tom sighs happily, “I guess we’re just happy to have each other, huh?”

“Yeah.” You agree, eyes trained on the way his giant hand enveloped yours. A peaceful silence lays upon the both of you. The melody of birds chirping and the sound of Tom’s breathing fill the air as you drift off to sleep.

Bonus:

Tom feels your hand loosen in his grip, your interlocked fingers resting on your stomach. He felt your stomach steadily raising up and down to the pace of your breathing. His hands remained where they were; one playing with your hair and the other holding one of your hands.

Joe approaches the both of you, gesturing to the position you and Tom were in. Though you were unaware, napping on Tom’s lap.

“Is this how you guys want to film the scene? We were gonna have you sitting beside each other instead.” Joe stood above you and Tom with his hands on his hips.

“I think this is actually better—don’t get me wrong, sitting beside each other and cuddling is pretty affectionate. But I think having someone rest their head on your lap is another level of intimacy.” Tom reasoned. He wanted to extend the amount of time you could ‘nap’ but he also thought the scene would be much better if your head was cradled on his lap. Personally, he believed it would show the audience how comfortable Cherry and Emily were with each other.

Joe nods his head, “Yeah, I get what you mean. I think I like that better, to be honest. What do you think, (Y/n)? Is Tom’s lap comfortable enough for you to shoot a few scenes on?” Joe asks, teasing you towards the end. He’s met with no response. He raises a brow at you, “Is she asleep?”

“Yup, long night.” Tom chuckled, running his hand through your hair soothingly.

Joe chuckles as well, “Is she all good though?”

“Oh, she’s fine. She just watched The Nun by herself and couldn’t catch any sleep after.” Tom reassured him.

“Ahh, alright.” Joe snickers, moving to make his way back to the crew. “She’s got a good 10 to 15 minutes to squeeze in a nap, monitors are acting up.”

“Gotcha’ boss.” Tom mentally notes, resuming to bask in the nature around him and your presence.

Tags:

Tom Holland Taglist

↪︎ @lovableparker @aprettyfleur @sunwardsss @dummiesshort @thotforcriminalminds @cuddlykoala101 @itstaskeen @whoslili @white-wolf1940 @tomsirishgirlx @roseke @kaylans-imagines @spideyspeaches @xxstrangegirlxxx @slutforsebstan

General Taglist

↪︎ @quxxnxfhxll @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @thegirlwiththediary @agustdowney

#marvel #mcu #avengers #Tom Holland #Tom Holland x reader #tom holland one shot #tom holland imagines #tom holland fluff #tom holland drabble #Cherry #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland headcanon #ally’s requests #tom stanley holland #tom holland imagine

[lochrannn]

Warnings: Sexual Content (M Rating)

Characters: Lila Pitts; Diego Hargreeves; Allison Hargreeves; Klaus Hargreeves; Hargreeves Siblings (background)

Relationship: Lila Pitts/Diego Hargreeves

Roommates AU; Fake Marriage; Slow Burn; Mutual Pining; Emotional H/C

Chapter 7/9

Leaving his apartment actually helps.

Diego’s not sure how long he’s been out but he thinks he spent at least thirty minutes at an all out run and he’s out of breath and his muscles are burning pleasingly, but he feels a lot more settled and about ready for sleep as he jogs back towards his bed.

He’s just passing a children’s playground when he spots a figure through the chain link fence sitting on one of the swings, gently swaying back and forth.

“Fuck!” he says out loud and then makes his way over.

“Oh hey!” says Lila with mild enthusiasm when she finally looks up at him as he’s just arriving right in front of her.

Diego’s heart is beating in his throat at the realization that she didn’t even notice him approaching and he could have been anybody. This may not be an incredibly dangerous neighborhood, but it is three in the morning, she’s a woman sitting all on her own in a dark and secluded playground, and he doesn’t actually need to be a detective to work out that she’s completely shitfaced.

Diego tries to reign in the anger that is usually his initial response to intense worry and fear. She’s a grown woman and she’s entitled to make her own bad decisions, and he’s overstepped on this sort of thing with her before, but when she just slowly blinks at him and then looks back down at the bottle of champagne that she’s loosely holding in the hand that’s not gripping on to the swing’s chain, barely keeping herself upright, Diego asks, in a tone that’s meant to be even but comes out pretty tetchy even to his own ears, “What are you doing out here?”

“Oh, you know, I got married today… just celebrating on my own, I guess,” Lila answers, lifting her bottle a little in explanation, but not looking up at him again. She’s doing a remarkable job of not slurring her words, he’ll give her that, but they do come out a little too slowly, far too deliberate, which confirms his suspicion that she is definitely pretty drunk.

“Uh huh…” Diego responds. He’s completely uncertain of what to make of the mood she’s in. The fact that her response to getting married to him is to completely numb herself with champagne certainly gives him pause, but he swallows down the lump in his throat, now’s not the time to wallow, and instead he asks, “D’you think you might wanna do that back home instead of out here in a fucking playground?”

Lila looks up at him with an odd clarity to her for a second before she takes a swig from her mostly empty bottle and says, “Nah, I’m good!”

Diego can’t suppress the noise of frustration that escapes him. “Lila! I’m not leaving you here all on your own in the middle of the god forsaken night! You’re gonna get robbed or murdered and then they’re gonna suspect me of marrying and then killing you for your money, and I really can’t afford to go to jail right now, so come the fuck back home with me!”

“Pfff, stop being so overdramatic, Diego, I’m not going to get murdered. And I’m not going anywhere in these heels, I tell you, I’ll just sleep here on this swing!” She closes her eyes and then wobbles precariously as she presses her face against the chain holding one side of the swing up.

Diego is very rapidly losing what is left of his patience.

“Also, may I point out,” Lila mumbles in her drowsy state, “that you did in fact marry me for my money— eeeeeeh!” she squeals, as Diego lifts her up – one arm behind her shoulders, the other behind her knees. Her bottle clatters to the ground and starts spilling the remaining champagne, and somewhere at the back of his brain Diego thinks he probably shouldn’t leave it lying around on a playground, but at the same time he’s also dealing with an armful of slightly flailing, very indignant fake wife (he knows intellectually that she’s not his fake wife, but his actual wife, but Diego can’t think too hard about that, because it causes all sorts of tumultuous feelings to twist in his gut).

Though Lila immediately wrapps her arms around his neck, she’s clearly not particularly pleased because she begins to argue as Diego starts making his way out of the playground, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m taking you home,” Diego growls, trudging along the sidewalk, a little amazed at how easy Lila is to carry. She’s almost larger than life so much of the time and even when they’d slept together, she gave as good as she got, Diego has up until this moment forgotten just how tiny she is, and his heart almost stops again at how vulnerable she was, what could have happened to her if he hadn’t come across her completely by accident. Diego sucks in a breath to try and calm the sudden wash of useless fear.

“That’s quite presumptuous!” Lila retorts, and Diego doesn’t need to look at her to know there’s an annoyed line between her eyebrows. In fact, he doesn’t think he can even look at her right now, not with the way her face is currently only inches away from his.

“We’re literally fucking married, Lila!” he scoffs. He’s not sure why he says it, but Diego thinks he might be going slightly insane with the whole situation.

“And you think that entitles you to something, now?” Lila asks in genuine disbelief and Diego suddenly feels way too exhausted for this conversation. “Yeah, I think it entitles me to making sure you don’t die of hypothermia, alcohol poisoning, or murder!”

There’s a long pause and then Lila grumbles, “Whatever,” and leans against his shoulder, apparently also overcome by tiredness.

And Diego is overwhelmed at how quickly his anger at her reckless and bratty behavior dissipates and is replaced with a much sharper feeling that digs its way almost painfully into his chest, when Lila tucks her face into the crook of his neck and promptly falls asleep.

Lila is almost completely still as he carries her back home and it gives his overwrought and exhausted brain time to contemplate how unhappy she seems to be with the situation and how that makes him feel in turn, and on top of that he even manages to feel a little guilty about the fact that the feeling of her warmth and weight against him does significantly settle his nerves, despite himself.

Diego’s always known that he’s not great with feelings. He usually feels too much of them and is never quite able to tell the people around him what that means and so he’s gotten quite used to not doing so. And even though earlier he contemplated telling Lilla, he realizes he can’t add another burden to the pile of shit she’s dealing with, especially not while she’s struggling to stay in the country of her choice and has to rely on him for her only solution.

Carrying Lila becomes a little bit difficult when Diego tries to unlock the front door. He ends up jostling her, attempting to wiggle the key into the lock with the hand that’s also holding on to her knees and Lila stirs but doesn’t wake fully, just snuffles adorably and cuddles closer to him, arms tightening in some kind of reflex to stop herself from falling.

Diego tries to concentrate on anything else, getting the door open, not slamming it, when closing it, because his neighbors would probably not appreciate the noise in the early hours of the morning, and then he makes his way straight towards her room so he can put her down on her bed.

He sets her down gently and then struggles to find the will to pull her arms away from his neck so for only a moment he allows himself to sit down on the bed with her and very gently put his arms around her in a hug. He’s not sure whether it’s to comfort Lila or himself.

“See, had no trouble getting home!” Lila mumbles into his neck and Diego scoffs at that, but it’s more out of genuine amusement than derision and he gives her one last squeeze before letting go and laying her against the bed gently. This time around Lila does let go and immediately buries her face into the pillow, and though her face scrunches up and he knows it’s only a matter of minutes before she’ll start drooling onto the covers with the way her mouth is half open, he can’t help thinking that she does look absolutely breathtaking.

Diego makes sure that her short red dress hasn’t ridden up her thigh indecently high and then gets to work on her sandals. Once he’s got them off, he finds a blanket on a small armchair in the corner of the room and covers Lila with it as she’s lying on top of her sheets and is fast asleep again, so he doesn’t want to wake her.

When he leaves her to it and closes the door behind him with a soft click, hoping to at least get a couple of hours of sleep himself before he has to get up for work later in the morning again, Diego lets out a long breath. He tries to convince himself that maybe it will take a few weeks, but he can get over this, get over Lila, but a niggling voice at the back of his mind points out that he’s never felt a sense of devotion for anyone quite like this before and that he is quite certainly in much bigger trouble than he’s letting himself believe.

-

Lila gets the hangover she deserves after drinking a bottle and a half of champagne, but is, unfortunately, not granted the luxury of forgetting what she got up to.

She remembers her evening and her night in vivid detail but from a perspective of a powerless operator, sitting somewhere in her skull, able to look out of her eyes and watch herself make an absolute nuisance of herself, but unable at the time to do anything about it.

She remembers feeling sorry for herself because she was in this situation in the first place, a thirty year old trust fund baby with no perspective in life, no family to speak of and while other women her age nave their lives together and are getting married and having babies, she just paid her roommate who she also happens to have a pretty bad crush on – no point in trying to kid herself about that anymore – to marry her for a green card. What a fuck up she truly is.

And then, wallowing in her misery as a selfish part of her even felt angry with Diego for just abandoning her on their wedding day – what a silly notion, seeing as this is a business arrangement between the two of them – she went out to buy some dinner for herself and instead brought home two bottles of champagne “to celebrate”, started dancing around to sad music the more intoxicated she got, and in the end feeling like she had to leave the flat or she would go absolutely stir crazy.

She obviously didn’t get very far, and she has no sense of how much time she spent sitting on that swing before Diego came to get her.

Lila feels desperately embarrassed. He must be so annoyed with her and thanking his lucky stars that he’s only married to her for the money and not actually stuck with the a fuck up like her. She could tell he tried to remain civil with her last night, mostly even indulging her, but he was clearly angry and she’d only goaded him further, out of some sense of righteous annoyance of her own. But in hindsight, she can’t blame him, he’s honestly been trying his best with her, gone above and beyond to support her efforts for a visa, and she can’t even keep it together for a single day.

Well, at least he’ll get a break from her, Lila muses as she pulls her cover over her head, trying to block out the little bit of light that’s filtering in through her curtains, because there’s no way she’s going to face him in this state. But once she’s recovered, feels a bit more like a human again, she’ll apologise and make sure he understands just how grateful she is for his help. It’s not his fault she’s developed some distracting feelings for him and he certainly doesn’t deserve her anger and frustration for not reciprocating feelings he knows absolutely nothing about.

And so Lila spends her day in bed, drifting in and out of sleep, half imagining and half dreaming about strong arms holding her close to a solid, warm body, and soft lips pressing gentle kisses to the spot just behind her ear.

-

A day and a half later they meet in the kitchen and it’s predictably awkward.

Lila tries to apologise for her behaviour but Diego just waves it away, says he understands that she’s having a hard time, and though that’s not quite what she wanted to say and part of her thinks he deserves a real apology, she also doesn’t particularly enjoy reflecting on her own behaviour and jumps at the opportunity to move on when Diego promptly changes the subject.

“I talked to a friend at my gym, Rodriguez. His wife isn’t a citizen either and he gave me some tips for the visa process,” Diego explains.

“Oh yeah?” Lila’s interest is piqued, because she still hasn’t quite worked out what that whole interview thing entails and she’s finally getting an inkling that Diego didn’t actually know much more beyond the fact that there is an interview.

“Yeah! So, he said it’s different for everybody but that he’d talk to his wife and they’d put a list together of the questions they remembered being asked. He said some of them were…” Diego looks down at the counter and starts scraping off an imaginary bit of dirt with his finger nail, “a bit personal… So, uhm, we’re gonna have to prepare for those.”

“I think we already did...” Lila mumbles under her breath.

“What was that?” Diego asks.

“Eh, nothing!” she rushes out, she didn’t actually mean to say that out loud even if he couldn’t hear her. “So, interview, okay, what else?”

“Yeah, uh, Rodriguez said this doesn’t happen too often and it didn’t happen to them, but there is a chance of an agent coming to inspect our apartment unannounced, so I thought maybe we should move some things around. You know, bring some of your things into my room, put some clothes of mine into your closet, just make sure it doesn’t look like we live in separate rooms. We can always say we’re keeping yours for guests,” Diego explains with a shrug.

“Okay, yeah, that sounds sensible,” Lila muses and starts worrying the nail on her thumb between her teeth because despite the fact that Diego seems to have a pretty decent handle on the situation, the whole idea of the interview process is making her nervous.

“You’re not really into this, are you?” Diego asks tentatively, and when Lila looks up at him his expression is one of concern, eyebrows drawn together, he’s lowered his head to try and get closer to level with her, and for a moment the tenderness in his eyes leaves her speechless.

“Yeah, I get it!” he goes on and then smiles slightly, “Hey, what are you doing the day after tomorrow? Are you working?” he asks.

“Uh, no?” Lila answers, hesitating a bit because the sudden change of the subject has her somewhat confused.

“I thought maybe we could take a drive to the shore, bring Ben’s camera and fill the film with some honeymoon photos. It’ll be too cold to go swimming, but the forecast seems like it should be pretty mild and sunny.” Diego suggests and, it seems without thinking, he reaches out and just very gently pulls on her wrist, so she stops biting her nail and instead lets her hand drop uselessly to her side.

“Yeah, okay…” Lila answers. She’s not sure why she’s not that enthusiastic about the idea. It’s not that she thinks she wouldn’t have a great time, in fact she thinks it could be kind of wonderful, spending a day driving to the seaside with Diego and taking a walk along the beach, maybe getting some ice cream. She wonders to herself whether the pang in her belly comes from the fact that actually she’d love a beach date with Diego, only she desperately wishes it wasn’t fake.

#otp: just be gentle #lila pitts #diego hargreeves #dielila #diego x lila #diego/lila #tua #the umbrella academy #fanfic #ongoing fic

[fliipclaw]

Hellooo 💙

5, 20, 22 and 23 (about the songs ask thing)

hi!! 💛

5. A song you like to daydream to

ohh there are so many. basically 90% of the time when i’m actively listening to music (as opposed to having it on in the bg while i do other things) it’s because i’m daydreaming or plotting out animatics in my head. so actually i think what i’m going to do here is share some character playlists i have! 

bird radio (for my d&d character borealis, i’ve been listening to this one a lot lately)

robin ii (jason todd fanmix)

the archivist & the antichrist’s plus one (tma playlists for jon & martin respectively)

there should be more than enough daydream material in these i hope!!

20. A song from the soundtrack of a film that you like so much after the film finished you immediately looked for it

i must admit i am very oblivious and rarely ever pay attention to the soundtrack of a film the first time i listen to it, and i also very rarely watch films so nothing is springing to mind immediately. uhh, actually, i adored the narnia soundtrack as a kid, so the call - regina spektor is gonna be my pick for this one!

22. A song that makes you feel like you’re strolling through Ancient Greece living your best life

my immediate thought was the bear’s den song above the clouds of pompeii, but i don’t know if that song exactly encapsulates “living your best life.” so instead i’m going with their song laurel wreath. it isn’t the happiest but something about it just brings me so much joy. “Is it the withering of tired leaves / All so neatly woven around that laurel wreath? / Or the collapsing of a history / Of victories getting lapped now by all my towering defeats?”

23. A song that when you listen to it you’re transported to a liminal space, time is pointless and you must sit and wallow in the void that remains

well, this one has to be lost in time and space - lord huron. “Lost in time and space / Aimless drifting into a far off place / Hurtling through the vast unknown / Staring straight into the pure, black void.” 

song asks!

#answered #ty for the ask!! this was fun #rhymeswithrasonrodd

[bluetiefling]

So, Cursed (2020), is pretty bad! And I wanted to say a few things because somebody had to. This is mostly ranting.

Cursed was rife with problems from poor pacing to poor worldbuilding to plain cliche and uninspired story arcs, but the most glaring issue has gotta be Katherine herself who c a n n o t carry this thing. It was gonna take a very strong and compelling actress to make Miss Nimmyway work and she is not that. The wooden acting just exacerbates all the issues the character has, which plague a lot of badly conceived fantasy protagonists. Mainly, being devoid of real charm and personality and having no agency because she plods through the story largely reacting to everything and not driving the action (while other characters fall at her feet and love her inexplicably and are there to hold her hand and tell her plot points to react to etc). When she starts “acting out” and showing I guess some semblance of personality, it’s because of ~magic corrupting her, so of course when she snaps at someone or goes into a rage it’s not really her fault and there’s no growth or organic character conflict to develop her. She also does a thing I’ve grown to loath in many protagonists where they get people killed or make stupid mistakes, and then angst about it but really they’re not taking any blame or examining their behavior, they’re just wallowing and making it about themselves. And of course other characters are there immediately to coddle her because actually, she did nothing wrong! And please, be our queen, girl we met five minutes ago who merely showed off some powers (which she complained about the whole time btw)!

Devon as Arthur is great and he can actually act, and he was trying so, so hard sell his romantic dynamic with Ninny but there was no saving it. He was one of many better and multifaceted characters trapped in her orbit where her lack of charisma and overall static character development makes it very hard to understand why he’s so sprung over her, let alone why she wins anyone else over enough that they want her as queen. And on that note idk why all the other characters (her included!) constantly treated him so badly and he himself keeps struggling with his own honor and sense of goodness when he’s an all around goodhearted and noble guy from the jump. It’s like the show was gaslighting me lol. I feel like their plan too is for Arthur to win hearts and minds and take the throne through merit, which I am here for, but I suspect they’re gonna frame it like he stole it from Ninny or something. Like I personally would love that because she sucks, but it’ll be tedious sitting through a show telling me she’s been so wronged by him, if that’s where they’re going with this eventually. I mean they’ve already had it so Morgana only starts feeling negatively about Ninny because (again) corrupting magic, because this show can’t bear to have characters form doubts about her competence or worthiness in a sincere way. 

Morgana is another character played by a lovely and talented actress who immediately adores Ninny (well, I guess not immediately, but they had Ninny tell her “hey, being gay is okay” and that’s enough for Morgana to declare them bffs forever) and she too suffers from trying to prop up Ninny all season. I couldn’t believe it when in one scene Ninny throws a fit and tosses the sword in a canyon and Morgana jumps to declare she’ll go fetch it while Ninny literally sits and pouts. I mean??? And that’s basically their dynamic - Ninny complaining and Morgana bending over backwards to push this useless girl to her “destiny”. Lol and I guess they’re gonna expect me to side with Ninny when Morgana goes all dark sided. 

It is so telling that one of Arthur and Morgana’s strongest moments was when they get their one (1) scene talking to each other about something that isn’t Ninny related. Devon and Shalom saw the chance to Act and they came alive right there. 

Daniel is the reason I first heard about this show and I unabashedly loved his character and all the dramatic dance fighting - he was the highlight for me lol. (I KNOW I know) But that’s a problem when said character is very underutilized. He appears in every episode I think but sometimes that just amounts to less than a minute of screen time. His secret Lancelot on a path to redemption is one of the few twists on the legend that I’m really into, but there was so little to see of him. Like of course they must have been planning more focus for him next season, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t more they could do with him here. His redemptive turn is prompted by a few scenes in the finale when they could’ve been seeding it more throughout. And I would’ve loved more scenes with him and Arthur (who managed to spark with him in their one fight scene far more than he does with whatshername). Before I’d seen the show I would’ve said I hope he interacted with Ninny a lot to see if there was something worth shipping but uhhh... hard pass on the idea now and it’s maybe a relief I didn’t have to sit through him falling in love with her instantly while she looks bored and delivers her lines with the exact same cadence for every scene.

And speaking of female characters he is presumably going to have a romantic arc with (that’s assuming this show actually gets a s2 which it doesn’t really deserve... .....), we have Red Spear. Or should I say RRRRED SPEEAARRR RAHHH because the actress couldn’t say a line without rage yelling it. And I wouldn’t care except I know this woman is meant to be Guinevere according to the book and.......... ...... ..... Like putting aside my aggravation at Guinevere being another rawwrr warrior woman because these writers have very limited ideas for Strong Female Characters apparently, but I can’t deal with her also being lowkey deranged like RED SPEAR comes across in all her scenes. She was just too much. And we have such a good Arthur and Lancelot and the thought them trying to make that love triangle work with RED SPEAR is actively painful.  

On that note, I’m a tiny bit hopeful that the fact the Guinevere name drop never happened in the show (as it did at the end of the book) means they’ve realized the actress can’t do this and they’ve cut that. Maybe she’ll be recast? Ideally they rewrite the plan for Guinevere entirely and let her be, god forbid, a courtly maiden who can’t fight but is no less “strong” for it? What a concept. The team behind this show doesn’t inspire confidence on that front, though. They seem set in their ways... I am also preparing myself for the possibility that they just merge Nimue and Guinevere after they realize Nimue has largely served her purpose already and they struggle to come up with things for her to do. And then my suffering will continue because I will keep watching this garbage for Daniel.

I have no idea what the viewership numbers are for this show - I would guess not great but worse things have been popular on Netflix so who knows. It doesn’t deserve a s2, but the show is potentially salvageable I think? I mean my recommendation would be letting Nimue stay dead at the end, her purpose and story finished, and let Arthur take over as the main with Lancelot and a new, not Red Spear Guinevere, as co-leads. You could really have something with that combination. Also get a new showrunner and reshuffle the writers’ room while they’re at it.

#aka the Shannara method which did wonders for improving things between s1 and s2 #ok I'm done I just had to get this out #it's depressing how often ppl mess up Arthurian adaptations :/ #Cursed 2020

[olliethealright]

Three Steps From Home: Update 4

Hey everyone! Long time, no see! Basically, I’ve been unmotivated for the past month or so, and as a result I’ve barely touched my socials. Good news, I’ve written the next eleven or so chapters of my WIP, and it’s almost doubled in word count lol. I don’t want to do a full sized update on every chapter because that would take a stupidly long amount of time, so I’m just gonna summarize and then give a little excerpt (this ended up being chapters 11-16) Not every quote has a picture because I am a tad lazy lol. Enjoy! 

Trigger Warnings: Emotional abuse, toxic relationships, homophobia, self harm, suicide, mental health, drug use, religious content

Disclaimer: Please don’t steal my words, ideas, characters, etc.

chapter eleven - problem child - 2118 words

theme song - if i get high - nothing but thieves

summary: Jude and Aaron have one last dinner with Jude’s mother before moving to Seattle. Shit goes down, Jude’s father is addressed, Jude’s mom has an anti-religious experience, everyone is upset. 

except - Jude thinking about his family before his dad left

I was two months from finishing my Junior year as a top student, six from applying to every out of state school I could think of, fourteen from leaving everything and never coming back. From the outside, the Alvarez-Carter family was a model of the American dream; we took family photos everywhere we went and cooked each other dinners on alternating days of the week. We  attended every house party, where my mother exchanged gossip like trading cards and my dad sipped Bud Light from a bottle and played cornhole. At those same parties, I flirted shamelessly with every girl in the vicinity, then cited my religion as the reason I wouldn’t do more than exchange pretty words.

The night dad left wasn’t the first time my parents fought in front of me, but it was the night they shattered the already paper thin barrier they had held between me and their issues. I never knew who started it, never knew who threw the first punch, but I knew who delivered the killing blow.

chapter twelve - golden days - 854 words

theme song - ribs - lorde,  also chelsea - phoebe bridgers 

summary: Aaron and Jude move into their new apartment, very light airy vibes, Jude idealizing everything, Aaron and Jude being adorable (yeah can you tell nothing actually happens in this one lmao). 

excerpt - Aaron and Jude leaving Montana

A taxi dropped us off at the Amtrak station the next morning. Our breath rose in front of us on the platform, I tiled my head back and tasted the sunlight; sweet and overflowing with new beginnings. Maybe, I’d be lucky enough to catch one for both of us. 

chapter thirteen - unholy creation - 900 words

theme song - reflections - the neighborhood

summary: Aaron’s mental health takes a turn, Jude is worried but has no idea what to do, Jude and Aaron fight for no good reason

excerpt - a description of Aaron falling off several wagons 

You were a shell of fragile bones and sharp edges when I wrapped an arm around you during a scary movie or curled against your chest late at night. You started wearing a flannel or a sweatshirt over every outfit, an extra layer to hide your ribs and hip bones and elbows, so sharp they could cut through glass. I stopped holding you so tight, afraid of the snap of calcium or cartilage or spirit.

okay one more because I like this chapter haha - Aaron getting mad when Jude asks about his parents

“It’s not about them, alright? I’m not going to talk about them because they’re not part of my life, they don’t control anything. Stop asking about them because they don’t matter, and I wouldn’t tell you if they did.”

You said the words like a chant, a litany, like you were the one who needed convincing. I pictured my mother in her dark dining room, palms up to God, praying for a miracle. You looked like her then, all the fear and anger coming out in one jumble of meaningless words. I flinched away when I should have stood my ground.

chapter fourteen - (has a title but I hate it) - 674 words

theme song - fear of falling asleep - TENDER  

summary - Jude has a mental breakdown, Aaron buys him sleeping pills and then takes them himself, they (kind of) fight, everything is toxic

excerpt - Jude watching Aaron sleep (it’s a weird chapter)

You took my meds that night, I cheeked them until you turned your back, then spit them into the dishwater and washed them down with green suds and scraps of tofu and rice. An hour later, you were passed out in our bed, skeletal limbs stretching out like the fragile branches of a birch tree. I watched as your chest rose and fell, dappled in moonlight and the neon buzz of constant electricity. For a few moments at a time, I convinced myself that your steady rhythm of in-and-out had stopped, I watched as you left this world and then came back. I couldn’t tell how much time was in between.

chapter fifteen - forest, electric (aka my favorite chapter in the book?) - 1279 words

theme song - are you bored yet - wallows 

summary - in an attempt to renew their relationship, Aaron takes Jude on a hike to a construction site in the middle of the night. The two sit on the roof and watch the sunrise. 

excerpt - starting the adventure

We walked four blocks south to meet our Uber, then set off down the winding streets of the city. It was one in the morning and if I looked close enough, I could convince myself I had woken up in a ghost town. Or maybe I was stuck in dreamland, where my boyfriend was perfect and everything I saw was real and I didn’t have to negotiate with myself when I needed an hour or two of rest.

excerpt - the end of the chapter that I just really like

We didn’t talk about our problems that night; we pretended I wasn’t sick and you weren’t hooked. That night, my mother didn’t hate you, we visited your parents once a year during glamorous Scottish vacations, we weren’t runaways. We dangled our feet over the edge of the roof, neither of us thought about jumping, about how our stomachs would drop faster than our bodies, about the inevitable crush of bones and life that awaited at the bottom.

That night, we leaned into each other and locked our hands and whispered ‘I love yous’ until a band of pink and orange lit the horizon and we realized we would get caught if we stayed much longer. We walked the two miles home and fell asleep curled in each other’s arms an hour before your 7:00AM alarm, two before you would leave the apartment again, eight before you would return home just before your high wore off.

I knew all these realities to be true at once, so I breathed in cologne and coffee grounds, took a picture in my head so that image of you, asleep and unaddicted and bathed in the sunrise, would stay with me forever.

chapter sixteen - gods and monsters - 1378 words

theme song - freakin out on the interstate - briston maroney 

summary - Aaron and Jude’s friends come over for the Fourth of July, Aaron comes home drunk and makes his friends leave, Jude’s friend tells Jude to break up with Aaron, Jude refuses 

excerpt - Jude convincing himself that everything is fine when it is clearly not fine (aka the theme of the book and also should probably be the title)

You were sallow and gaunt, your hair was greasy, your breath smelled of vomit and alcohol and whatever else you had taken. You were a monster in our bed, but I could feel that lazy half smile against my skin. I could close my eyes and see you sitting in that tea shop, long limbs sprawled over the pillows, the sun on your skin making you glow like a god.

That image of you couldn’t lie, not when I had lived that moment, not when it had been so beautiful. I wouldn’t leave you because you would be alright and this would pass. You convinced me everything would look better in the morning, all our problems would fade with the rising sun.

You were wrong. They didn’t.

Okay, this is getting way too long so I’m gonna end it here! Thank you so much if you actually read all that! If you want more information on any chapter, just message me and I will do that. The update on the last few chapters of the first draft should be out somewhat soon, and I may or may not have a new WIP coming up :)

ALSO, it has come to my attention that most people have these things called taglists? And I don’t have one? If you wanna be on mine for this project, or any future projects, message me or repost this and I will make one. Thank you for reading!

-Ollie

#threestepsfromhome #chapter #book #novel #read #reading #writer #writing #story #write #update

[lefaystrent]

Everyone's talking about Virgil Angst but meanwhile I'm sitting here thinking about Roman because like?? Presumably he's on Broadway right? And to wake up finding you're a known broadway star has to be a dream come true even if it's jarring that suddenly finding yourself so much older. But like Roman has no memories of the years between hs and now. He wakes up, finds he's performing in a show that very day. bUT NOT ONLY THAT, it's a new show, one he's never heard of so he has no lines 1/?

no lyrics, noblocking memorized. And he's expected to perform. So a thespian's nightmareright there. Maybe for extra Angst points the understudy is out sick. Or hejust forces himself to perform, not wanting to disappoint or miss this"chance" to be on Broadway. Either way it doesn't go well and Romanis left with his spirits crushed and still completely lost as to how he endedup in the future. 2/2

Back to theFuture, part II

Fandom: Thomas Sanders,Sanders Sides

Pairings: platonic LAMP

Word Count: 2620

Masterlist Link

_______________________

Roman wakes up with a pillow beingthrown at his face.

“Chop, chop! Time to go.”

Roman groans, “Is it time forschool already?”

The person laughs.

It’s then that Roman realizes thatit’s neither of his parents, nor one of his friends who would sometimes sleepover.

Roman sits up, shirtless but that’susual. What’s not usual is the man fixing his hair in the mirror of a largevanity table.

“Who are you?” Roman asks,instantly suspicious. He snatches up a hair brush that’s lying on the bedsidetable, wielding it like a sword. “Where am I? What do you want with me?”

The man meets his eyes in themirror, sees something funny, and rolls his eyes with a laugh. “Alright, Mr.Big Shot. Save the acting for the stage. We’re gonna be late if you don’t hurryup and get dressed. And Dot will have both of our asses if we’re late foropening night.”

Opening night?

Stage?

Cute guy?

Oh, this had to be a dream.

Roman was good at dreams.

“Very well then. Wouldn’t want todisappoint all of my adoring fans, would I darling?” Roman boasts, to which theguy snorts and tells him to hurry up again.

Roman slips away and finds thebathroom. He’s debating whether or not to snap his fingers and conjure up amagnificent outfit. That is, until he catches a glimpse of himself in themirror.

He screams like he’s in a horrormovie, which maybe he is.

“What—what’s wrong?” the no-nameguy from earlier yells, banging on the bathroom door but Roman had locked it.

“I’M OLD!!!”

He’s over thirty now, and to a guywho was just seventeen yesterday, that’s pretty old my dude.

Frantic, Roman throws open thebathroom door and demands, “What magic did you cast on me?”

“What?”

“My face! Look at it!” Roman screeches,looking into the mirror once again and rubbing at his face as if the signs ofaging would disappear. “I mean, I’m still gorgeous, BUT I’M OLD!!!”

The guy looks at him like he’scrazy, which maybe he is but wow, no need to judge. “Uhhhh, are you going througha mid-life crisis right now? Because can you do that later? When, ya know, wedon’t have somewhere to be?”

“I was just seventeen yesterday,”Roman tells his reflection mournfully.

“Okay, if this is the kind ofbaggage Roman Prince has, remind me not to sleep with him again.”

Roman chokes at that.

“E-excuse me? We did what?!”

“Just cut the crap already,” theguy grunts and leaves. “I’ll be waiting outside,” he calls before a door slamsclosed.

Roman is left alone with hisreflection.

He snaps his fingers, but nothinghappens.

He gives a grin anyway. “Just gottaget into the swing of things is all.”

*

Roman meets the guy outside. Hedoesn’t bother asking for his name, since it’s not important to the dreamanyway. And really, this isn’t unlike a lot of Roman’s other dreams. Waking upto a cute guy? Check. Performing in a Broadway musical? Check.

Being the headlining actor for saidBroadway musical?

Super big check.

They’re in the theater now, andRoman is smiling and greeting a bunch of people who seem to know him. He goesalong with whatever they’re saying. He runs into the director Dot that theno-name guy mentioned earlier. And somewhat confusingly, he finds his dressingroom. It’s amazing and wonderful and in such detail, and sitting on the chair bythe dressing table is the script they’re performing tonight. Roman picks it upwith a wide grin.

He nearly drops it.

He’s the headlining actor for aplay he’s never even heard of.

Okay. Okay, okay okay.

Roman is in his dressing room—HISDRESSING ROOM ON BROADWAY. This whole place is designed by him to work how hepleases. If he just looks away and looks back again it’ll change—

Nope, that didn’t work. He squintsdown at the font, hoping to place the title.

“A New Lease on Life.”

From a skim through it’s somethingabout a parasitic demon trapped in the body of a magically gifted human?Roman’s character is the parasite.

“I know musicals are weird, butwhat in the name of Julie Andrews,” Roman says to himself.

But this is a dream. It’s okay. Hecan just…get up on stage and have the time of his life!

That’s not how it happens though.They do last minute run throughs. Roman is not magically landing the lines.Hell, he doesn’t even know them! The director yells at him to stop messingaround, and Roman is honestly hurt and disoriented enough to start crying rightthen.

But this is supposed to be hisdream! He can’t cry. He’s a Broadway actor! He’s got this!

*

Remember when he said ‘he’s gotthis’?

Yeeaaah . . .

The evening is upon them, theaudience files in, and Roman is standing on stage with no clue as to what he’sdoing.

He skimmed the script earlier,curious because usually he couldn’t read things in his dreams. He says thelines he remembers, but he misses a cue, and then the actor who’s playing therole of the character he’s possessing hisses under their breath what his lineis. It’s appreciated, but Roman can’t hear it over the thundering roar in hisears. The audience is waiting for something incredible to happen and Roman . ..

Roman’s waiting too.

*

This isn’t one of Roman’s dreams.

This is a nightmare.

Roman is a deer caught in theheadlights. He’s sweating and breathing so loudly that surely the audience musthear it. The lights are too bright and he’s standing on the edge of the stagein the middle of what’s supposed to be this sinister monologue.

This isn’t working. He just needsto take a breath, take a step back, listen more carefully to his costar’s constanthissing, and maybe things will get back on track.

Roman’s leg buckles when he triesto move it. He’s too close to the edge of the stage. He thinks for a momentthat he can catch himself, but his palms are slick with sweat and he slipsright over. He lands on his back, the wind knocked out of him, and he doesn’tremember much after that.

He wakes up, not in his bedroom athome but in his Broadway dressing room. Someone’s there, someone that Romandoesn’t recognize.

“Sloan picked up where you leftoff,” she says. She’s looking at Roman with pity.

“Sloan?” he questions. In thedistance, he can hear the muffled noises of the show going on.

She looks pissed off now. “Youknow, your understudy? Maybe if your head wasn’t shoved up your ass all thetime, you’d remember the names of us little people.”

She storms out of the room.

Roman lets his head thump back downon the bench someone laid him on.

He could wallow in his misery. Hecould let this nightmare beat him down. He could curl up and have himself anice cry. Princes are made for bawls after all.

“Sorry, but this prince has toleave before midnight,” he says.

He hops up to his feet. His headhurts and there’s a painful twinge in his leg and arm from where he must havefallen on them. But he can still move. He has to.

Roman turns his back on Broadway togo search for answers.

As he’s walking down the sidewalk,he ignores the busy city life. He pulls out his phone, immediately searchingfor his emo sidekick’s number.

He doesn’t find it.

What he does find though areseveral missed calls from Patton.

“Curiouser and curiouser,” hequotes. He calls Patton up.

“Roman?!” Patton answers after thefirst ring.

“Hey Padré! I hope you’ve got sometime to chat because you will not believe where I am right now!”

*

Roman was all the way in New York.

That’s a little more than a carride from Florida.

Logan had known that Roman became aBroadway star. He’d even told Roman that he would one day become one, but thatwas back in high school when Roman was an upset seventeen-year-old and Loganwas an eleven-year-old kid who knew too much. The news might have given Romansome form of comfort when he was figuratively down, but he certainly hadn’tbelieved it as Logan foretelling the future.

When Logan woke up as twenty-nineagain—after the initial freaking out period—he decided to contact his friendsto test a hypothesis. He needed to encounter someone who he’d never been affiliatedwith before in his future time, people like Roman, Virgil, and Patton.

Roman was too far off however. Notto mention it’d prove difficult to request a celebrity’s time, one that wasn’tsupposed to know you.

And Logan did doubt that any ofthem knew him. He suspected that he hadn’t been pushed forward through time butreplaced back into his own time, a timeline separate from the past one he’dbeen in. Nothing in his house had changed, no signs of his friends. No texts orcontacts on his phone to match.

So Logan searched for the othertwo. Virgil proved to be all but nonexistent upon his initial online researching.Patton immediately garnered results.

“An advice columnist,” Logan hadsaid to himself, unable to smother down the smile that tugged up his lips.Patton had made quite a name for himself in northern Florida. He’d been hostedseveral times on talk shows and was working on promoting his second self-helpbook that had recently released.

Logan had set off to find Patton,and find him he did.

And Patton . . . Patton had rememberedhim.

And even though Logan felt trulysorry that this disorienting situation caused his friend a great deal ofdistress, he couldn’t help but feel a wash of relief knock into him at the factthat his friend was still his friend. That those memories weren’t worthless ora vivid dream.

And then, once they had workedthrough establishing the existence of time travel, Patton suggests that theothers might be in the same boat.

“What boat? We’re not in a boat.”

“Figure of speech, Lo,” Pattonsmiles a little, despite himself.

If he and Patton are here afterjumping through time, it’s not impossible that Roman and Virgil could be thesame.

“They might not be here,” Logansuggests, swallowing down a sharp feeling of disappointment. “Whatever happenedto us, they may not have been a part of it.”

“Or they might have,” Patton pushesstubbornly. He can see the same hope welling in him, the same selfish desire tonot be alone. “We’re always hanging out together. They might have . . . gottencaught up in it? Whatever it is.”

“. . . and you already tried callingRoman?”

Patton tries all day. Logan wandersthe house a lot, investigating what kind of person Patton grew up to be. It’s .. . interesting to say the least, seeing his friend who had previously been ateenager suddenly as a grown adult, older than himself at that. Logan pondersover whether Patton feels the same amount of puzzlement. Although, Patton doesn’tseem to be interested in much that requires moving from the couch.

Ever since Logan theorized them notbeing friends in this timeline, Patton has become lethargic. Logan is ill-preparedto deal with this kind of Patton.

That night, Logan hears Patton’sphone ring. Logan doesn’t pay it much mind. The phone had been ringing off andon ever since Patton had run away from work that morning. Logan continues to pokearound the kitchen, relishing his normal body and the height that allows him toeasily reach into the tall cabinets.

“Roman?!” Patton screams from theliving room.

Logan immediately abandons any notionof dinner.

“Did he call you?” Logan blurtsout, racing into the room. It’s an unnecessary question, because what elsecould have happened? Patton waves his hand at him to shush him.

“Where are you kiddo? Are you okay?”Patton asks. He clutches the phone to his ear with both hands as if he couldhold Roman there.

Impatient, Logan sits right besidePatton and leans in to eavesdrop.

“Where else would a star like me beother than Broadway?”

Yes, that’s Roman’s proud voicefiltering through.

“Broadway?” Patton repeats, lookingat Logan questioningly.

“He’s in New York,” Logan affirms.

“What is he doing there?” Pattonasks.

“Is someone else there?” Roman interrupts.“You’re talking to someone else when you have me on the phone?”

“Sorry, Ro. I was just talking to—um . . .”

“To?”

“To, um . . . Logan.”

“Oh, well tell that nerd that I’mon Broadway and I’m fabulous, even if I am old now.”

Patton and Logan share a look.

Logan pries the phone out of Patton’shold and puts it on speaker. “You remember who I am?”

“Who? Wait, who’s that?”

“That’s Logey, kiddo.”

“That doesn’t sound like the littletwerp I know. Wait, is he super old now too? Are we all old geezers? Man, thisis a really weird dream.”

“Yes, it’s me. Yes, we’re older,”Logan answers. At least Roman is understanding the situation they’ve beendropped in. “Roman, I need you to answer a couple of questions for me please.”

“If I’m older now, why do I have toput up with more study sessions from you?”

“This isn’t school-related, Roman.”

“Please, Ro. It’s important,”Patton urges.

“Fiiine, if you must.”

“Did you wake up today in anunfamiliar setting with no memory of how you got there?”

“Yeah? Nothing too unusual.”

“How—how is that not unusual foryou?”

“Happens all the time in dreams,duh. Use that big brain of yours, Jimmy Neutron—wait, you’re not a kid geniusanymore. I’m going to have to come up with new nicknames. Not to worry, I’mgreat at improvising!”

Great at ignoring reality as wellit seems.

“Um, Roman?” Patton prompts. “Whatdo you mean by dreams?”

“This isn’t a dream,” Loganpresses.

“What else could it be?” Romanlaughs, and it doesn’t matter that the sound is slightly distorted through thephone. Both Logan and Patton can tell that there’s something off about it.

“Roman, that’s not—” Patton starts,but Logan cuts him off.

“Roman, do you have Virgil’scontact saved perhaps?”

“No, I don’t actually. Weird,right? Oh, I know! He must be hidden away from us in a tall tower in amonster-filled forest. Never fear, we shall rescue our emo in distress!”

Patton bites his lip, staring atLogan. “He doesn’t have his number either? What does it mean, Logan?”

“It could mean that Virgil doesn’thave a phone,” Logan tries, but neither of them buys it.

“Virge . . .” Patton whispers, eyeswelling up.

Logan focuses back on the phone.Roman keeps asking if they’re still there. “Yes, we’re here. And that soundslike an excellent idea, Roman. Why don’t you meet up with us here in Floridaand we’ll brainstorm a plan of action in order to locate Virgil.”

“Can do!”

Later, after Logan has helped Romango over how to book a plane ticket (“No Roman, you can’t just teleport here.Think of this as a . . . side quest, like in the video games you like.”), heends the call and turns to Patton. Patton’s sitting there, arms wrapped aroundhis legs and face buried in his knees.

“We’ll find out what happened tohim,” Logan tells him.

Patton doesn’t respond.

_____________________________

General Tag list: @spectralheartt @a-pastel-pan @notalwaysthevillian @rose-gold-roman @ijustrealizedhowdumbmynamewas @katie-the-noble-fangirl @yourroyalydramaticanxiousness @aroundofapplesauce @merlybird500 @beach-fan @jemthebookworm @whats-going-on-kiddos @randomsandersides @gamerfreddie @unring-this-bell @analogicallythinking @lilygold23 @punsterterry @levy-the-b00kw0rm @tacohippy56900 @accio-hufflepuff-power1 @just-another-rainbowblog @georganabanana @grey-says-heck @crookedlyoptimisticdestiny @thesynysterunknown @idont-know-what-im-doing @idioticsky @fadingglowcloud @whizzie72 @theinvisiblespoon @greyyy523 @opaque-puppet @just-fic-me-up @wowimsogoddamnoriginal @sos-fandoms @loganeatsbooks @trust-is-overrated @theitalianalchemist @im-crunchie @mourning--star @4amanxiety @hogwarts-my-love @enby-phoenix @justanotherpurplebutterfly @internet-or-sleep @absolutesandersidestrash @seaspider10 @nonasficcollection @small-words-to-say @satanblessi @an-absolute-failure @analogical-mess @noisyeggpizzapatrol @hamilsandersfam @cefinitely-rolo @thgjclw @knight-shives @no-no-no-no-6 @savingshae @rabbitsartcorner @buddypallady @midnight-tragedyy

Kid Logan AU list: @under-the-blue-moonlight @broadwaytheanimatedseries @joyful-milkshake-observation @absolutesandersidestrash @midnightmagi @justcallmepancake @nerd-in-space @thestrangedino @deathshadowrules @entitydark @vintage-squid @max-is-tired @deceitfullyanxiousprince  @shai-uwu @teacupfulofstarshine @the5thcoy @occasionally-pauciloquent @oakskull @teepee-honesty @mrtacothethird @fandomobsessed-nerd @mychemicalcheezwhiz @that-smol-tired-gay @skittlesun @caterpiller-tea @sanders-sides-rebloger @penguinkool @its-the-cat-queen @liz-a-bell @theresneverenoughfandoms @i-know-im-smart @ever-after-aaa @007ardra @starbucks-remy @lovebug5151 @yyeeeeeeeeett @adoratato @theobsessor1 @soijusthavetoask @ab-artist @always-in-a-fandom @iris-sanders-athena @doing-my-demibest @connors-writing-sux @lizziepopanime @charakitcat @dall-off-weekes @wowimsogoddamnoriginal @sign-from-god-complex @pumpkinminette @cosmic-melodies @sullycreatesstuff @lovesupportandcookies @som3thing-cr3ativ3 @unicornlogansanders @rainysharkfreaklover @potato--justpotato @ghostscantdie @virgilneedsahug @thatonenerdphotographer @the-cactus-lord @cocobearthe4th @neverasherpoetry @midnight--fox @falsehoodx @crazy-rat-man @lokinas @rosiepupper @insert--self--hatred @dorkoverse @herestheanxietea @spirits-in-my-thoughts

#sanders sides #kid logan au #roman #roman sanders #patton #patton sanders #logan #logan sanders #virgil #virgil sanders #platonic lamp #back to the future #Anonymous

[writing-radionoises]

do you love me?

ship: minor enomiki, toxic though

genre: character study 

prompt: me trying to figure out how to write mikan

notes: this was gonna be hella negative and it ended up happy idk why

"D, do you love me?" She asked, looking up at the strawberry blonde behind her. "Of course, little Mika!" She replied, manicured hands now set on the violet haired girl's shoulders, "I love you more than anything in the world, even more than despair!" A shaky smile came to Mikan as her own bandaged hands met Junko's on her shoulders, visibly relaxing.

"Do you still love me? Huh?" Mikan answered, shaking and drenched in blood that was not hers. Her own clean nurse uniform was now coated in blood, empty syringes on the ground in from of her feet as she looked back at her lover for reassurance, kindness, anything good. Junko moved forward, her arms stretched out in front of her as she cupped Mikan's face, red eyes staring into Mikan's purple ones. "Of course, my little bunny. The blood's a good look on you, eh?" She said, her words sweet like honey and voice smooth like silk, "You're doing so well, I adore it! Keep going, little bunny." Mikan's knees buckled under her weight, a sickening smile coming to her face. Love, it's for love. "DO YOU STILL LOVE ME?" Mikan cried. It's a cry of pain, begging at her now dead lover's body as if maybe she'll respond. It's a cry for help, because what in the world is Mikan supposed to do without her goddess? What is a muse without her painter? What is a cat without her owner? What is a plushie without a holder? What is Mikan without Junko? "PLEASE WAKE UP I'M BEGGING YOU, I'M NOTHING WITHOUT YOU!" Mikan begged, shaking Junko's body as she cried. Mascara streaked down her cheeks, mascara Junko had taught her how to apply. The ring on her finger felt cold, the ring Junko had given her. The love Junko had given her, was it gone? Gone? Gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone? A feeling made itself home in the pit of Mikan's stomach, forcing her to let go of Junko and sit back. The world is spinning. The sky is falling. The floor is collapsing under Mikan's weight. Ah, the feeling of despair. One her beloved had taught her of. Something of Junko's that could never leave. Despair. The same sickening smile came to Mikan's poor tear stained face as she took Junko left hand into hers. The undamaged one. "I'm, I'm going to take the best parts of you with me," Mikan said happily, "That way... You'll never leave me... Never, never, never..." "HOW CAN YOU STAND THAT WOMAN?" Izuru cried. He's shaking, eyes filling up with tears as he digs his nails into his palm. Mikan can only smile. All pain is painless as long as she has her beloved's heart pumping in her chest. All despair is good despair. Nothing can hurt Mikan now that Junko is apart of her. "DON'T YOU REMEMBER WHAT SHE DID TO US?" Izuru persisted, and Mikan continued to smile. "My beloved has brought us to a beautiful world," Mikan explained, "She has given me her undying love, and as long as I have that, I could care less what happens, don't you think? Aaah, but you'd never understand, you've never had anyone love you, huh?" The long haired male stopped dead, no words dropped out of his mouth, as he backed away silently, red eyes now glued to the ground. Hit the nail on the head. "Please calm down," Komaeda begged, a half smile on his face. He's a little late. "I'll always be an peace while Junko is a part of me," she replied, and Komaeda's smile dropped. They do not understand her love. "N, no! Don't take h, h, her from me!" Mikan begged, snatching her dead right hand away from Kazuichi. He had looked confused, still holding a robotic replacement in his hand. "I don't want it!" Mikan insisted, tears threatening to boil over. She didn't want to lose Junko, even though everyone else wanted to so bad. Everyone wanted to cut off their bad parts, all the despair and torture, but Mikan could do no such thing. Junko had taught her love before anyone could, she was not repulsed by Mikan, and forgave her when no one else would. Why would anyone wanna give that away? "Mikan," Chiaki started from behind Kazuichi, now coming into view, "I understand it's hard to let go, and maybe you don't wanna let go just yet." Mikan nodded along, meeting Chiaki's robotic pastel pink eyes as she spoke. She was happy to have someone on her side. Chiaki never hated Mikan, either. And yet, she was the opposite of Junko. "But know that we are here for when you want to let go, okay?" Chiaki finished, "That doesn't have to be anytime soon, and it's okay if it never happens, too. I'm your support team, I'm here to support you no matter the decision, okay?" "O, okay," Mikan stuttered. "Do you still feel it?" Mikan asked, get metallic hand cold against her warm thigh. "Feel what?" Peko asked, ruby eyes turning away from the sunset and towards Mikan. Her silver hair had started regrowing, not long enough to put into a braid, but it was getting there. Still, Mikan missed the bob cut Peko had once sported. "Despair," she answered, her real hand now coming to to meet her metallic cheek, "Do you feel despair sometimes?" "Yes," Peko answered, "But not often. I do not wallow in despair, it is not my life. I'm quite happy now, I have a lovely husband, good friends, I pet fluffy animals everyday... I'm learning to smile again. My life is good, even if there are relapses or small feelings of despair, I am happy now. I don't need it." A frown came to Mikan's face as she looked back down at her knees, "I... I wish I could say the same..." Peko's warm hand came to get friend's knee, earning Mikan's gaze once more. "Progress is not linear," Peko began, "And progress often doesn't match up with others. I am happy now, but I cannot say I'm as far along in progress as maybe Mahiru is, and I cannot say I'm as far behind as Izuru is. None of us experienced the same thing, either. It makes sense for Mahiru to be very far along now, dealing with thing healthily, as Junko didn't really interfere with her life. But it also makes sense for Izuru to still be suffering, having been taken advantage of and used at a young age. Wherever you are is where you are, and that's okay. We have our whole lives ahead of us, it's okay to backtrack." Mikan smiled, not sickening or despair filled, a genuine smile, and hugged Peko tightly. She's going to get there some day.

#danganronpa #danganronpa junko #danganronpa fanfiction #Mikan Tsumiki #junko enoshima #enoshima junko #tsumiki mikan #Peko Pekoyama #pekoyama peko #sdr2 #sdr2 mikan #writing #writer #writers #writblr #danganronpa mikan