Tumgik
scripted-downfall · 21 hours
Text
Just went through the five stages of grief after realising that Steph does a finger gun gesture when she tells Pete I only go on dates with guys who have the guts to ask me out... which you've never done, by the way, and then the time he does ask her out is when she's holding him at gunpoint... The parallels 😭
72 notes · View notes
Text
The bit in Spy Again where Curt is asking Owen for advice hurts because if there had been anything else that caused Curt's depressive spiral --- had a mission gone wrong in literally any other way --- I have no doubt that Owen would say exactly what Curt thinks he would. But it was exactly that inciting event and so the tragedy somehow intensifies 😭
21 notes · View notes
scripted-downfall · 3 days
Text
Get to know me!
Thank you to @occasionally-normal-things-here for the tag!!
APPEARANCE
Dark hair // I prefer loose clothing to tight clothing // I have one or more piercings (one ear piercing) // I have at least one tattoo // I have dyed or highlighted my hair // I have gotten plastic surgery // I have or had braces (Invisalign) // I sunburn easily // I have freckles // I paint my nails // I typically wear makeup // I don't often smile // I am pleased with how I look // I prefer Nike to Adidas // I wear baseball hats backwards
ACTIVITIES/INTERESTS
I play a sport // I can play an instrument // I am artistic // I know more than one language // I have won a trophy in some sort of competition // I can cook or bake without a recipe // I know how to swim // I enjoy writing // I can do origami // I prefer movies to tv shows // I can execute a perfect somersault // I enjoy singing // I could survive in the wild on my own // I have read a new book series this year // I enjoy spending time with friends // I travel during work or school breaks // I can do a handstand
RELATIONSHIPS
I am in a relationship // I have been single for over a year // I have a crush // I have a friend I've known for ten years // my parents are together // I have dated my best friend // I am adopted // My crush has confessed to me // I have a long distance relationship // I am an only child // I give advice to my friends // I have made an online friend // I met up with someone I have met online
SEASONAL
I have heard the ocean in a conch shell // I have watched the sunrise // I enjoy rainy days // I have slept under the stars // I meditate outside // the sound of chirping calms me // I enjoy the smell of the beach // I know what snow tastes like // I listen to music to fall asleep // I enjoy thunderstorms // I enjoy cloud watching // I have attended a bonfire // I pay close attention to colors // I find mystery in the ocean // I enjoy hiking on nature paths // autumn is my favorite season
MISC
I can fall asleep in a moving vehicle // I am the mom friend // I live by a certain quote // I like the smell of Sharpies // I am involved in extracurricular activities // I enjoy Mexican food //I can drive a stick shift // I believe in true love // I make up scenarios to fall asleep // I sing in the shower // I wish I lived in a video game // I have a canopy above my bed // I am multiracial // I am a redhead // I own at least 3 dogs
I'll tag anyone to see this because I haven't really been on Tumblr enough lately to know who'd want to participate or not. :)
Get to know me
Thank you for the tag @giftedpoison 💜
Rules: bold what's true and tag people
APPEARANCE
Dark hair // I prefer loose clothing to tight clothing // I have one or more piercings (one ear piercing) // I have at least one tattoo // I have dyed or highlighted my hair // I have gotten plastic surgery // I have or had braces (Invisalign) // I sunburn easily // I have freckles // I paint my nails // I typically wear makeup // I don't often smile // I am pleased with how I look // I prefer Nike to Adidas // I wear baseball hats backwards
ACTIVITIES/INTERESTS
I play a sport // I can play an instrument // I am artistic // I know more than one language // I have won a trophy in some sort of competition // I can cook or bake without a recipe // I know how to swim // I enjoy writing // I can do origami // I prefer movies to tv shows // I can execute a perfect somersault // I enjoy singing // I could survive in the wild on my own // I have read a new book series this year // I enjoy spending time with friends // I travel during work or school breaks // I can do a handstand
RELATIONSHIPS
I am in a relationship // I have been single for over a year // I have a crush // I have a friend I've known for ten years // my parents are together // I have dated my best friend // I am adopted // My crush has confessed to me // I have a long distance relationship // I am an only child // I give advice to my friends // I have made an online friend // I met up with someone I have met online
SEASONAL
I have heard the ocean in a conch shell // I have watched the sunrise // I enjoy rainy days // I have slept under the stars // I meditate outside // the sound of chirping calms me // I enjoy the smell of the beach // I know what snow tastes like // I listen to music to fall asleep // I enjoy thunderstorms // I enjoy cloud watching // I have attended a bonfire // I pay close attention to colors// I find mystery in the ocean // I enjoy hiking on nature paths // autumn is my favorite season
MISC
I can fall asleep in a moving vehicle //I am the mom friend // I live by a certain quote // I like the smell of Sharpies // I am involved in extracurricular activities // I enjoy Mexican food //I can drive a stick shift // I believe in true love // I make up scenarios to fall asleep // I sing in the shower // I wish I lived in a video game // I have a canopy above my bed // I am multiracial // I am a redhead // I own at least 3 dogs
And I'm tagging: @bianxiousandcute @sprqpointintern @noproof-youjustknow @morelikeyourghost @emmasmuse @thatseventiesbitch @hydesjackiespuddinpop @changelingbaby
200 notes · View notes
scripted-downfall · 4 days
Text
Tumblr media
UHM?? WHAT?? EXCUSE ME?? NEW SHOW?? BRYCE LEAD??
78 notes · View notes
scripted-downfall · 6 days
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
wake up babe, hua cheng saying "as you wish" in the new tgcf dub episode just dropped
4K notes · View notes
scripted-downfall · 7 days
Note
Top five favorite scents?
Oh, thank you for the ask; this is something I've never been asked before! I think I'll go with, in order:
Petrichor (beautiful in both smell and concept, I love this scent so much)
Mint (especially the mint smell specific to Vicks, if you're familiar with that brand)
Coffee (the smell is infinitely better than the taste)
Chocolate (sorry to have a basic one, but it's just really good)
Garlic (ironic given that all of my friends joke that I'm a vampire)
But there are so many other good ones! That was a hard (but fun) ask; thank you, and all the best!
2 notes · View notes
scripted-downfall · 7 days
Text
oh god. okayyy
so, after a rather lengthy conversation with @scripted-downfall, we came up with this self indulgent ass fic... Because we decided that Wilbur Cross could, in fact, cook, and old habits die hard :)
so.... pasta!
and i swear to god this was supposed to be a bit. a bit! you wouldn't believe that after it turned out to be... 3100 words and 90% of it didn't even involve pasta
Tumblr media
Not many people had a second chance at life. PEIP had done enough investigating to be able to at least assume that, if there ever had been… Others. People who had been affected by the entities within the Black and White… Then they were no longer alive. Wilbur- Wiley was enough of an exception in just that factor alone, but there was something else that set them apart from the potential endless number of others.
They had escaped.
John didn't know how it had happened. Apparently, his agents didn't know about them either. Not their escape or what had happened to them afterwards. He couldn't exactly do much better for himself, but Wiley had appeared on his doorstep in the middle of the night- a mess of blood, erratic breath, and shot nerves -and he had to forge an explanation for himself.
It was close to three in the morning when he opened the door, under the impression that nobody in their right mind would come to him at that time in the morning unless it was an emergency. And an emergency, it was. The moment he opened the door, his eyes darted over the mess that was once his mentor, his friend… Frankly, he couldn't help the grimace that followed.
"Jesus, Wil… What the- What the hell happened to you?"
He had been aware for years that Wilbur Cross was dead. It still took a level of restraint to remember that, especially on days like today, when there was such an obvious reminder that the truth was anything but. Not dead. Not at all. Changed. In appearance, they were almost exactly the same.
Almost being the operative word, of course.
The same tall, thin frame, the same dark hair that grazed their shoulders, just as it always had… But that was about where the similarities stopped. It was still hard to get used to the dead stare, the flicker of green that crackled like lightning, or the way that everything about them was just a little… Off.
Too bright. Too sharp. Too far gone. That was always the problem with them. Always just a little bit too far away from being human… Never quite close enough to pass.
At the moment, they were struggling to keep themself upright. They were shaking, forcing themself to stay in check, or to stay present.
They stumbled forwards, and John held out a hand to catch them. "Woah, shit-"
"Didn't know where else to go…" They muttered in a broken whisper, swiping the back of their hand over their face and collecting a loose trickle of blood that was running down their cheek.
John frowned, looping his arm around their waist and leading them inside. "No, it's okay. It's okay…" The need to express his reluctance to let them go again felt redundant. Right now, there wasn't much of an option otherwise, he wasn't just going to let them try and find someplace else, no matter what they'd done in the past. "What happened?"
The two of them sat down on the couch. Wiley immediately sank into it, feeling the stiff leather underneath their hands, cool and unfamiliar and… and…
Safe.
They were… Safe here. It was way too quiet, and that was never good- not from their experience- but for once, they had no doubt that this quiet was different. They breathed, felt the way their chest heaved like this was the first time they'd ever done it.
"… Got out."
Why was it that something so simple as getting their mind to coordinate was such a hard task?
They stretched out their fingers, digging them into the fabric of their jeans, acknowledging and desperately appreciating the way their fingernails felt as they dug in just enough to make it noticeable. This- whatever coincidence had landed them on the doorstep of John McNamara of all people- was real. Some insane luck, or a game of chance that they didn't want to think about, had forced them into remembering directions, an address…
Maybe this wasn't chance. Maybe there was something left in the back of their mind that said this was what they had to do.
The thought of that made breathing a little easier. If this wasn't coincidence- if they had meant to find John all along- then maybe they were meant to break the cycle, to escape…
"You got out?" John echoed, making sure to keep his voice soft. Wiley just nodded, and John turned a little to face them. "Out of what? Out of the Black?"
Another nod. "It broke. It- it shattered. Like fuckin' glass, John! And I- I saw a way out, so I started runnin'. Didn't stop. Couldn't stop. I'm clear, John, it's quiet, it's so so quiet…"
Saying his name felt good. It filled the quiet with something that wasn't that daunting static. Any second now, the voices would come back, carrying with them the painful sparks of colour that set fire to their mind… They'd be dragged back into the unknown, and then all this blood, the injuries they'd sustained from trying to force themself out, it would get worse. They knew that much.
For now, though… For this very second in this very location… They were a little safer than they could ever remember being.
John tried to wrap his head around that. What they'd said didn't make a whole lot of sense, sure, but there was something in there that did. Maybe it wouldn't explain why they were so afraid, or what they were running from, but maybe it explained that they'd been nothing but a prisoner for all this time.
He had to forgive himself for not being able to think this through. It was barely three in the morning, he'd never had to be this alert this early before…
"And the blood?" The tesselation of scratches leaving jagged lines in their skin; their face, the back of their hands…
"They weren't gonna make it easy,"
"What d'you mean?"
"I hadta fight." The brown in their eyes that John didn't even notice was there started to shine through. They heaved a sigh, the most sturdy they'd sounded since they'd gotten here. "Doesn't matter. I'll be fine."
"Wil, you're bleeding on my couch, you can't say that…"
"I'm fine." They insisted. And that was true, for the time being. They were fine here. Fine with John. All of that would change when they had to leave, and it was extremely late, so that was going to be sooner than they thought… What then? What happened when they exposed themself again, made it known exactly where they were?
John nodded. He wasn't certain that he believed them, but it was a start, he supposed. If they thought they were going to be fine, then there was no reason why he shouldn't believe them. "You said it was… Quiet. Can I take it that's a good thing?"
"I dunno. Never been this quiet before. I dunno what to make of it."
"Why's it so quiet?"
"I can't hear 'em in my head."
That needed no explanation, of course. John knew exactly what they were referring to, and that they knew more about those entities than he or anyone at PEIP ever would. He found he had nothing to say- perhaps a direct result of that gaping hole in his knowledge. Nobody knew anything about the Black and White for sure, and the one who did refused to elaborate. Not like he could blame them in the slightest for any of that…
Wiley forced a sigh. "That won't last long. They'll be back… Always are."
Whether it was his tiredness talking, or that hopeful part of him that had never believed in Wilbur's death, John didn't know. But he briefly let his impulses take over the cloud of thoughts in his mind, and spoke the first words that settled.
"You can stay, if you want."
"Huh?"
"Look, it's some ungodly hour of the morning, and sure, you might be fine in a couple hours, but you're not now…"
Right.
Now…
The passage of time was so fast here, but that was only because it worked in the first place. They still hadn't so much as comprehended that yet. There was a ‘now’, the present moment. Exactly as things stood in this second, this moment. And in that now, John was making them an offer.
But offers didn't exist. They weren't real. It was always a bargain, something both parties could benefit from, or a deal, where they would have to exchange something. What was he getting from this?
Did that even matter? There must've been a reason why they'd gone to him first, and they doubted it was because he was the only person they knew…
Their eyes met his. They were searching for something, any kind of indication that he was going to say something else- the other half of the deal. Nothing came. John's gaze was soft, almost expectant. He was waiting for them.
"I'd be gone before you can think about it." Was that a promise? If it was, they certainly meant it. Either in that they were going to make sure of it themself, or that they were going to get found out.
John hummed. "I know… I'm not offering for my benefit."
This wasn't a bargain at all. John was seriously just offering his hospitality for as long as it lasted. They faltered, then nodded slowly "… Th- thank you, John."
John seemed rather satisfied that they'd decided to take him up on the offer. That, or… Relieved, maybe? Either way, he only lasted another half hour or so before he bade Wiley goodnight and turned in, leaving them alone with the strange tangibility of the world.
The silence of the night settled in fast. Wiley decided the immediate course of action was to take care of that which John was so concerned about. All things considered, it wasn't so bad. They could definitely remember being in more pain, that was for sure.
They closed one hand over the top of the other, pressing down a little. They were about as real as anything else that belonged in the Black, and the rules of this dimension applied to them just as much. That seemed especially true when they were in it, and that made this particular job a lot easier.
When they lifted their hand again, the scratch was just another jagged white line to add to the others that already littered their skin. It was a little raised, and red around the edges, but such were the messes associated with fresh scars.
Though, getting rid of the feeling of their own freezing cold blood running down their face was always a relief, they had to admit. One by one they sorted he remaining remnants of their escape, until there was nothing left but the old ghosts of what once was, and the memory associated with them.
Suddenly they were so much more bothered about the time. Being here had never done that to them before, but they'd gained a certain vigilance to it out of nowhere. With the time they'd spent getting to John, and with the conversation that followed, they'd already been out of the Black for well over an hour.
Those hours just kept multiplying, adding onto each other until they started to doubt that they would ever be found. John came and went at some point in the early morning, surprised to see them still there, but arguably even more surprised to see that they'd made a full recovery since he'd last seen them.
Seven and a half hours, and nothing. This was by far the best of their luck, which had never been so bountiful before today. They had a sneaking suspicion that they couldn't be this lucky forever.
Nine hours, ten, eleven… They were still startlingly alone. With the need to keep that particular string of thoughts out of their mind, they started to zone out, loosening their grip on the world a little. Frankly, they couldn't remember the last time this was a safe bet, but it had been so long already… Surely if they wanted to chase them down or reappear from the confines of their mind, then they would've done so already.
Unless they were waiting until they thought for certain that they were alone to strike.
Before that could settle, before they started to believe that as a possibility, they faded out. John's space- the four walls they'd been getting used to for the last stretch of time- started to blur off into the vast expanse of nothing.
There was something in the back of their mind that told them they needed to move, to get away from this scene. This was becoming too familiar. They needed to move and they needed to do so quickly.
Feeling the weight of unknowable dread settling in their chest, they rose from their position on the couch and started to wander.
Their footsteps were completely silent against the hardwood floor. That would never do… Something needed to pull them out of this ever changing void, and remind them that they could be so lucky, that they weren't going to have their luck run out on them.
They'd passed into another room. The silence was washed out by the sound of a tiny clock, and several things humming to preserve the life in them. At once, they recalled purposes, a multitude of functions for a multitude of things. Their vision started to clear ever so slightly. This felt blissful. Their singular track mind felt a little more at ease here.
I know what I'm doing here. A purpose. Everything else has one, and so do I. What?
they felt themself reach out. In that moment, clarity was restored. Static faded out, the thoughts subsided, and they had drawn themself back enough to see what was going on.
Their hand was about three inches from John's knife block.
Eyes widened, they flinched violently and forced themself back until they hit the wall. Fuck. Fuck. Falling out of touch with the world was a bad call and always had been a bad call. There was danger in fading out, in becoming what they feared.
Don't let it take over.
Once, they had remembered a name. It used to be theirs, it was the one John remembered. Even if they could never reclaim it, bits of their past were locked in that name, no more than magazine cutouts, worn and faded with age. Those cutouts were often the only thing keeping them from cracking once and for all. The first passage of a song, or the way someone's voice used to sound. With that came instinct. It was never enough, the broken pieces, but they pretty much knew how to keep themself alive.
Boredom and a desperate need to drown out the silence were not… Always included in that instinct, but at the moment they had tools at their disposal, and at least enough in their memory to find something to do.
The knives were an immediate no. It didn't matter what they did, that was going to be readily avoided, if they could help it. Too close to slipping… Way too much of a dangerous call in this situation.
John had ingredients. Funny, there was some passing flicker in the back of their mind that recalled him admitting to not being a particularly strong cook…
They let their conscience take a backseat while those strange instincts took over. Sure, they knew what they were doing- they were fully aware- but there was something telling them they'd only ruin it if they had full control. Everything they touched was destroyed in some way. This was no different.
If they were fully in control right now, the way this instinct was slowly building some old dish they clearly knew would be destroyed too. The worst part of them had a habit of rearing it's head when it wasn't wanted, who knew how far they'd be able to send the ingredients into a state of rot and disrepair.
So, they made themself relax. The constant repetition and apparently ingrained knowledge of these steps made that a little easier. It was almost… Therapeutic. And the longer they stayed at it, the more they found themself capable of neglecting the thought that they'd put a huge target on their back.
There was something about this freedom that was almost blissful, in it's own way.
That's why they were so shaken when that bliss was interrupted from an outside source. The door. Footsteps that stopped all too rapidly. A voice, quiet and confused. A familiar voice.
"… What the hell?"
John.
John had had a weird few hours since Wiley showed up at his doorstep. First, he'd woken up that morning to find they'd made a full recovery from the number of scratches drawing their blood, and then he came home a little early, and had been immediately struck with the unmistakeable smell of cooking.
Domestic bliss wasn't on the cards for him. At a job like that, coming home to someone else- forcing him into secrecy for the sake of something bigger than himself- didn't seem like his scene at all.
Of course, he hadn't forgotten about Wiley, but he certainly hadn't been expecting… That.
"What the hell?"
Vaguely amused and very confused, he followed the scent down to its source, and found the result to be even more surprising than the idea alone.
"Uh, Wil?"
Jesus Christ. Jesus fucking Christ. A single moment had taken him back some eleven or twelve years. The two of them shared a space, then. For convenience, Wilbur had said, and John agreed. It had been convenient, and had definitely saved them many a midnight phonecall over the ideas they just couldn't shake.
And the only thing that made it even more worthwhile was the fact that Wilbur just casually demonstrated in the early days that he was a fantastic cook.John found the thought of it amusing, but Wilbur had proven as much, and after that, he stopped ever doubting his friend's talents.
Now it was happening again. There were spice pots haphazardly collected on the countertop, and the air was filled with the fresh aroma of tomato sauce. He couldn't believe what he was witnessing.
Wiley glanced at the tiny clock their lost mind had picked up on earlier, and then dared to turn around momentarily. "John… Didn't expect ya…"
John wanted to follow that with some comment about being early, but he was completely fixated on the fact that the thing closest to being Wilbur was back in his kitchen making fucking pasta of all things. He blinked, trying to ignore how nostalgic that all felt. "I… Wasn't exactly expecting you to be in my kitchen making pasta… What's going on there?"
Wiley huffed a breath of laughter that curled back their lips and brought about just another reminder that this wasn't the past it once had been. Too white. Too sharp. Too many.
Not human.
Not Wilbur.
"Got restless. This was… Instinct, I guess."
"Instinct?"
They shrugged. "Somethin' like that."
4 notes · View notes
scripted-downfall · 10 days
Note
Top 5 poems?
Ooh, thank you for the fun ask! I think I'll go with:
The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes
Dulce Et Decorum Est by Wilfred Owen
The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Annabel Lee by Edgar Allen Poe
Because I Could Not Stop for Death by Emily Dickinson
And for once those are actually in order, from favourite on! Thank you again, and all the best :)
1 note · View note
scripted-downfall · 10 days
Text
With the portals closed behind him and Lex Foster already in possession of his firearm, there wasn't anything left for John Mcnamara to do for his country (or the world in general). This left him in the unfortunate position of being trapped in the Black and White (somehow *not* dissolving?) with his old-mentor-turned-Wiggly-disciple and, of course, the great Wiggly himself. This is not a fun position in which to be.
Also known as: dial eldritch!Wiggly up to 11, stir in one (1) awesome General and his traumatised mentor/old friend/maybe-something-more, garnish with mental and physical torment, and serve angsty! Could be read as gen, but it's secretly Cross/Mcnamara if you're cool; it's just not explicit in either sense of the word
7 notes · View notes
scripted-downfall · 10 days
Note
Top 5 favorite characters?
You come into my house on the day in the same month as I have become newly fixated on an entire cinematic universe (ish) and you ask me for my top 5 characters overall? I'm not meant to play favourites like this! 😭 That being said, I suppose I'll go with, in no particular order:
Wei WuXian (Mo Dao Zu Shi, The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, The Untamed)
Crowley (Good Omens)
Shi QingXuan (Tian Guan Ci Fu, Heaven Official's Blessing)
Donna Noble (Doctor Who)
And... Nah, sorry, gotta pull a cop-out on this: any Joey Richter character that I've seen to date because they're all too good to not be mentioned
Thank you so much for the ask!
6 notes · View notes
scripted-downfall · 10 days
Text
Ask me my “Top 5″ anything...
I’m in the mood to write lists. Make me write lists.
13K notes · View notes
scripted-downfall · 10 days
Text
Tumblr media
Time Bastard trapped in Tinky’s blorbo box
604 notes · View notes
scripted-downfall · 13 days
Text
I know that, in canon, the Latte Hatte is Zoey, but my headcanon is that Ted is actually referring to Nora because he's a pathetic wet cat of a man with a Type. There is no actual "Latte Hatte" because everyone just imagines whichever of the three Beanie's workers they like and rolls with it.
Ted's goes "ah, yeah, the Latte Hatte (Nora)" and Paul nods sagely "indeed, the Latte Hatte (Emma)" while Bill's like "Don't talk that way about her (Zoey); she reminds me of my daughter!"
350 notes · View notes
scripted-downfall · 17 days
Text
"I can't refute, you looked pretty cute/While you were tied to that chair" Tatiana would have done numbers on Tumblr, I just know it
44 notes · View notes
scripted-downfall · 17 days
Text
With the portals closed behind him and Lex Foster already in possession of his firearm, there wasn't anything left for John Mcnamara to do for his country (or the world in general). This left him in the unfortunate position of being trapped in the Black and White (somehow *not* dissolving?) with his old-mentor-turned-Wiggly-disciple and, of course, the great Wiggly himself. This is not a fun position in which to be.
Also known as: dial eldritch!Wiggly up to 11, stir in one (1) awesome General and his traumatised mentor/old friend/maybe-something-more, garnish with mental and physical torment, and serve angsty! Could be read as gen, but it's secretly Cross/Mcnamara if you're cool; it's just not explicit in either sense of the word
7 notes · View notes
scripted-downfall · 17 days
Text
Joey running off-stage to quick change every (metaphorical) five minutes so that Curt can have an angsty gay flashback gives me so much life
103 notes · View notes
scripted-downfall · 18 days
Text
Scrags progressively adding more and more FBI swag to try and prevent the miscommunication about "his agency" only for it to fail every time just sums up the Solve It Squad so well
20 notes · View notes