#NEW TAG SO I DONT HAVE TO TAG ALL FIFTY OF THEM

[macabremoons]

Incorrect Quote Tag

LOVE THIS TAG FEELS LIKE IM IN A FANDOM. Thank you to @mjparkerwriting for tagging me!!! tagging @serenanymph, @repressed-and-depressed, @wrenofthewords, and anyone else who wants to do it! It's fun. Long post ahead.

Bonnie (brainstorming ideas for pranking Emilio): How much could a serial killer mask possibly cost? Menodora: Well it’s hard to find a high-quality one made out of leather or silicone, but if you did find a good one like that it’d be a couple thousands of dollars. I can try to hook you up with one but I don’t know if I’d be very successful. Bonnie: Huh, that’s pretty interesting actually- Wait, how the hell do you know that? Menodora: …I am very passionate about Halloween, Bonnie.

Menodora: *walks into the kitchen, ignoring everyone* Emilio: Hey, Menodora, how was your day? Menodora: *picks up an onion and bites into it, staring at Emilio* Hell. Bonnie, watching this unfold: *whispers* Who hurt you?

Emilio: What is everyone for Halloween? Bonnie: I’m superman. Menodora: A clown. Emilio: So I’m guessing we don’t need to get you a costume then?

Menodora: Why don't we just call it, "M.C. Donald's?" Emilio: Because it just sounds like a stupid rapper's name. Bonnie: It'd just be like- "Eyo, it's ya boy, M.C. Donald!"

Bonnie: If I die, my funeral will be the biggest party ever and you're all invited. Emilio: "If" Menodora: Great, the only party I'm ever invited to and they might not even die.

Benjamin: Menodora is mad at me, and I'm not sure why. Apollo: Okay, did you talk before she got upset? Benjamin: ...yes? Apollo: That's probably it.

Apollo: You really believe in Benjamin? Menodora: Luckily, he believes in himself enough for the both of us.

Benjamin: Menodora has never seen Star Wars? Apollo, the only people in the universe who haven’t seen Star Wars are the characters in Star Wars and that’s cause they lived them, Apollo! That’s cause they lived the Star Wars!

Benjamin: Hi, who's this? Apollo changed all of my contacts to mythical creatures. Menodora: What's mine? Benjamin: Dwarf. Menodora: HE'S SO MEAN, I'M NOT THAT SHORT! Benjamin: Oh, hey Menodora. Menodora: FUCK!

(fun fact for half of the books Menodora is taller than Apollo. She's 5'9 [175 CM])

Menodora: What if mayonnaise came in cans? Benjamin: Well, that would suck because you can't microwave metal. Apollo: Good morning to everyone except these two people.

Emilio: I swear to god I'm the only one here with a braincell. Bonnie, Benjamin, Menodora, and Apollo: ALL HAIL the keeper of the sacred braincell!

Emilio: Who the fuck broke the toaster? Apollo: It was Benjamin. Menodora: It was Benjamin. Bonnie: Benjamin broke it. Benjamin: Benjamin: ...yOU PROMISED-

Menodora: Is something burning? Benjamin, leaning seductively on the counter: Just my desire for you. Menodora: Benjamin, the toaster is literally on fire

Menodora: I don't need to go to bed. I'm not tired, I'll be fine. Benjamin: But, darling, I'll be so lonely without you. Come curl up in my arms so I can feel whole again. Menodora: O-oh. Well. Are you trying to seduce me into healthy sleeping patterns?? Benjamin: Is it working?

*Benjamin comes home absolutely drunk, undresses, and stands in Menodora’s bedroom.* Menodora: Babe, are you.. coming to bed? Benjamin: No thank you, I’m sure you’re lovely but I have a girlfriend. Benjamin: *Lies on the ground and falls asleep* Menodora: ...

Benjamin walking into the kitchen and seeing all their limes peeled: Menodora, I love you but, what the hell? Menodora, sipping coffee happily: I love you too :)

Benjamin: Everybody shut up, I'm thinking. Emilio, patting them on the back: Well, don’t think too hard. I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.

Benjamin, holding a toy lightsaber: I’m Darth Vader! Emilio: I’m done with everyone’s bullshit.

Emilio: I'll offer you some friendly advice- Menodora: I don't want your advice. Emilio: Well, then consider it unfriendly advice.

Menodora: I'm not mean. Name one mean thing I’ve ever done. Apollo: When we were younger, you convinced me eggs weren't real. Menodora: They're not. Apollo: Haha, very funny. Menodora: I'm serious. Didn't you hear? Apollo: No... what happened? Menodora: ...Why would you fall for this again-

Menodora: That’s the key slice of truth we need to complete the entire truth pie. Apollo: Ooh, can we get some actual pie? Menodora: I like the way you think.

Menodora: It’s nice to be wanted, you know? Apollo: Not by the law!

Can you tell i like these characters

[mrkified]

Surf’s Up! — 22. penny for your thoughts?

THE swimming lessons went like usual. there was nothing else for you to teach him so you both just casually swam around in the pool. besides the occasional teasing and play fighting it was seemingly peaceful. jaemin always enjoyed these lessons with you because you both always found peace in each other during these lessons. a part of him felt sad that these lessons were ending, but another part of him felt happy for a new beginning — with you. although he hasn’t asked you out quite yet, jaemin made sure he was going to do it…soon. to be honest he was quite scared to ask you out due to nerves, but he had been planning a date to ask you out. next saturday to be exact, at an art museum you were telling him about while you were at the beach. he thought it would be the perfect place where all his dreams would come true (becoming your boyfriend).

while he slowly started to get lost in thought you gave him a little splash. “penny for your thoughts?”

“what are you? fifty?”

“HEY, plenty of people still say that..” you frowned in fake disbelief.

jaemin let out a little laugh as he slowly swam towards you. “it’s only okay when you say it.”

“well then, what else is only okay when it’s me” you turn to face him as he finally was right in front of you.

he spoke in a soft whisper, “this..” he leaned down as you moved up to close the gap. jaemin had finally did it — he kissed the girl of his dreams, and he was going to make sure he didn’t let this moment go to waste. he felt like he was on cloud 9 as he pulled away.

“i think you have a few more of those that are just for me,” you looked at him as you slowly pulled him back towards you.

safe to say he was definitely going to cry on his private about this when he gets home.

✦ where you give your coworker jaemin swimming lessons while he tries to hide his crush on you.

prev | m.list | next

[TAGS] (closed) @junviadinho @p-d1ddy @busy-daydreaming02 @nanaxwi @nctrawberries @chaerinmin @onlyhyunjin @lovesuhng @girlz4jaem @flwrs4marklee @haechology @njmluvr @haechansbbg @roseangelxfuma @thefroggybazaar @starfilledgaze @vantxx95 @sunghoonsgfreal @daegalfangirl @mystverse @mrkleelvr @rikisluv @nessaassen02 @markeroolee @lionzyon @hyunjungjae @nanawrlds @urlocalbeaner5

[NOTE] the ending was quite broad so interpret it as you like also this is SO SHORT pls lmk if you guys want me to double post bc i will this chapter was bc i forgot to make them kiss last chapter lolz.. ALSO NOT PROOFREAD DONT COOK ME

[more-than-tender-curiosity]

16, 19, 22, 25 for the fandom asks

16. can't understand why so many people love blonde daisy. i mean, logically, I get that she's constantly cast as a blonde IN THE MOVIES, but if you ACTUALLY FUCKING READ THE BOOK she has dark hair. the inverse goes for jordan.

19. because i dont really. have anything for gatsby proper..............well. in terms of gatsbyverse, I could fix robert. and that's...that's me saying that with what I know. i hope yall are ready for a whole new level of psychosexual crazy that will put jay gatsby to shame.

22. again the character designs (except blonde nick <3). like fitz might have made an oversight making SO many characters blonde but I think color-coding is SUCH an important part of fitz's symbolism that ignoring it is just. in such bad taste. plus daisy having dark hair is a direct product of her being ginevra king in different clothing, and I LOVE the real world ties gatsby has. it's all very important to me. i want these guys as close to real as possible.

25. "yall all hate daisy because you're sexist!!" yeah! a lot of us hated daisy because we were sexist at age fourteen fifteen whatever. but goddamn. the fandom at least as I have seen it has grown up TREMENDOUSLY and whenever a new crop of sophomores roll up hating on daisy, we set them right—and even then, I haven't seen an actual I Hate Daisy post in SO long, and I check this fucking tag fifty times a day. god. but I still recommend that if you hate daisy, really, really check up on exactly why. sexism's roots go deep deep deep and often you'll cover it up with 'i just hate the rich' (which is based) when you don't give the same scrutiny to tom or jay. AND ANOTHER THING. ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE COIN.

JAY GATSBY IS NOT TO BE DISMISSED AS JUST A CREEPY STALKER MANBABY. WHAT. HUH. HUH??? WHAT???? HUH???????? DO YOU HAVE CRITICAL THINKING SKILLS? HAVE YOU PERHAPS SCRATCHED THE CRYSTAL CLEAR VENEER OFF THIS BOOK YET TO SEE THAT? PERHAPS? IT MIGHT BE SIGNIFICANT OF SOMETHING DEEPER THAN THAT? I would explain it more in detail but this post is long enough and I'm big mad now.

[sadgirlnoga]

doing that OC question list again, with dancing in the devils auditorium character aya burnstein

question list made by @lyralit

fifty ways to get to know your characters (and how to write them)

what is their name? and how does this fit their character?

Aya, a multicultural name meaning ''bird" in hebrew.

last name?

Burnstein, an ashkenazic jewish and german surname meaning "amber".

do they have a middle name?

Mae, meaning "spring goddess".

name a song that describes them

Bubblegum Bitch By Marina!, especially the line "dont care if you think im dumb, i dont care at all."

what are their pronouns?

she/her/hers

gender and sexuality?

straight trans girl

do they like someone romantically?

yep.

list five words to describe them

ambitious, creative, sensitive, stubborn, feminine.

what about five dialogue tags to use consistently on this character?

said, giggled, sang, cried, gagged.

what is their motivation?

music and the arts, and julian.

do they consider themselves a good person?

she considers herself decent.

colour that describes their personality

hot pink and black.

MBTI type

she doesnt know.

enneagram type

she doesnt know that either.

character they're based on

yasmin and jade from bratz.

person they would bring down whilst dying

julians parents.

person they would kill if they had the chance

her old elemantary school principal for encouraging kids to continue bullying her.

character they would get along with if they were in the same universe

the ghouls from monster high.

character they would hate if they were in the same universe

burdine maxwell from bratz.

artist they would listen to

avril lavigne.

artist they would hate

justin beiber.

give them a theme song

Hello Kitty By Slayyyter.

make them a playlist! (see my other post for songs to put on that playlist, here)

im in no mood for that.

make them a mood board

here.

assign them an aesthetic

dark girly.

what are their strengths?

fashion.

what about fatal weaknesses?

sports.

the one person who can convince them to do something they're stubbornly against

Maybe julian...BUT JUST MAYBE.

who would they kill for?

Herself.

what tropes do they fall into?

break the cutie, manic pixie dream girl, badass adorable, the fashionista, innocently insensitive, trans tribulations, perky goth, your makeup is running etc.

fatal weakness (food edition)

carbonara.

book they would definitely read

percy jackson.

language besides their mother tongue they would (have) learned

she knows hebrew and spanish.

murder accomplice

max and tina

thing that makes them go weak at the knees

dumb blonde guys.

most obscure thing they HATE

pepto-bismole.

while we're there, biggest phobia

having to relive what she went through as a child.

are they (would they be) a book or movie person?

movie person.

are they a romantic

idk, she is romantic though.

childhood experience that defines an aspect of their life

being forced to move out of her town all the way to california because shes trans and and intersex, no shes on stealth and she also hides her birthmarks.

what is their age?

shes 12 years old at the start of the story.

birth sign? / zodiac?

she was born on may 3rd, 2000. shes a taurus from her sun to her saturn(rising included) and shes gen z.

what constellation would they be

idk.

name a famous myth could they would have been the main character

what would you do if when you okay so he said yes would go?

old or new soul

new

assign them a smell

vanilla cupcake. she has 6 perfumes and their all gourmands.

fantasy by britney spears, viva la juicy by juicy couture, pink sugar by aquolina, meow by katy perry, fabulousity by baby phat and snooki by snooki.

assign them a smell they like

peaches.

can they swim?

kinda

street smarts or brain smarts?

street smarts

what is this character's purpose to the plot?

dueteragonist and love interest.

[the-firebird69]

thee companies owe us and for all thier attempts and for keeping our valuable people poor. we sue them all and for ownershp and posession of all of them are ours we worked you iditos dont. we take it all including your weapons facilities now and inn our areas and yours. now too

we move on you shortly in the midwest.

now we are at it take over several companies this week. united airlinies is at 35% and we will aquire 20% in exchange for valuable comodoties.

american airlines we aquire 10% in exchange for valuable commooties...and he will try using htem on us and we use them on him and he says snickering all my sstuff to him mine hold it i try it use it as threats. and smells like old dead guy and you suck but yeh it smells. mostly bad and like farts and ok used ot it your son stinks lo and ron and me and so what you have girly farts an f this it is true their farts are scientific curiisities tue too all threee lol

delta airlines we aquir 10% more and have 30% ad revamp our areas. prep the fleet to exchange jets and keep them operational

sun seeeker resort no but the eailine jet blue nope but allegiant air we buy both ten percent more each and have 30% i n jet blue and 20% in allegiant soon will own both

resort companies such as the one trump owns we buy out 30% more of the huge conglomerate and have about 20% weill be close or over teh top maybe either way we shall have it and offer more for the few points we need and items. have al ot in storage and yes we can reterive it

food distrribution co and tons of that four companies 10% more on each and range have 20-40% in each mostly twenty

grocery stores a list each at 20% we buy 20% more this week.

transport land have 20% in four companies and will buy ten to twnty percent more yes then people sel due to new management and we enforce it and they ahve us and try for us and cannot handle it and tons sell and we run it right.

fuel companies oil gas and more we have 10% accross the board mostly a few at 15 some 5 we buy 20% accross the board. trump sells it.

distrubutin like lane and green we own about 20% we buy 20% more accross the board all are in hte middle and perimeter

we brew tons of beer and start our own cos now. need to and they need tons more and we make grain. canmake scertain alchohol out of grain we shall and are four or five we do this now. see it too. this is huge and we have orders in for both we harvest corn they see it huge fields of it and out and tons of fuel. need it now they say and in two days. and tons say we do it. and get it and we shall and we do make deals. and for stuff there. go in take it they try and we take weapons.

campers we buy the companies and have 20% in ten and 5% in 20 companies and we will buy 20% in most of htem this week yes. tons of them in. we will switch to al panels and in all of them. still might use the alumnum siding too no. it is horrid and hard to clean use and so on. waste of time. and panels on the rv long ones yes. and we make them for cammpers this ules too. easy stuff. to do. we have orders in for years of production and the stocks reerves almost out and we need these in to make panels. tons say it sell. so we will make deals. sell it for contracts to make campers wiht panels. so tons sy it we then resell as retail shops as we do and yes that is the idea. tons will sell but the backlog is huge. huge. ok we can fillthe orders and for the shares. now we see. and by agreement. we enforce it too. they shall honor it and we icldue a sales agreement dealership agreement too. we have our brands too yes. mb tag them on lo they agree are nice light and well made and their designs. and good.

mobile hmes same as above but fifty companies we wswitch to panels and his idea and hers we loved it do love it. need it. now. and make tons. and are rated for a hurricane 8. now that is fast and houses are mostly 9 but some are really 8 and wood frame. so this one is a nine ok not great works. we make tons an tons. lots will bolt them to foundatoins and then are 10 hurricaine rated. and nice. real siding and higer rooves look like regular houses. offset and make a desing true owrks and we then make prefab that way. and shall and tons. he would buy one today we know it too.

construction cos. we have ten need more will buy them about 5 large ones and fully no but controlling share this week.

10 privat cos are huge and are power companies and transportatoin and public transit contracts and more we do tis now

truck cos we have 20% will buy ten to twenty more in them half twenty yes.

more shhortly

Thor Freya

Olympus

[likeabitchylamb]

the "explore", "trending", and "for you" pages on tumblr are fucking useless at best and triggering at worst. what's the point of blocking blogs/tags if they just end up on those pages??? i dont want to see the hundredth meme page (or, let's be honest, the same meme page over and over again), just let me block it and show me other shit. there are a billion blogs out there, find something new. sometimes those pages show me cool shit until i realize that -for some reason- it's just showing me my followings, even though there's a whole separate tag for that! so, it's meme pages iv'e blocked and hate... or posts i already saw when i went through my "followings" page. okay.

and these pages also constantly show me blocked tags. i always see fandoms i hate, "x reader" shit and a whole bunch of things i don't want to see. frankly, i've blocked like ten different tags related to "thinspo" blogs, aka blogs promoting eating disorders. and even IF the tags i've already put in are being blocked PROPERLY (which i doubt, at this point) these kinds of blogs use like, fifty different tags which all have symbols, numbers, emotes in order to escape censorship. i can't keep track! i don't want to spend half my time on this website clicking from one tab to another, copy/pasting a new batch of pro-ana tags just for the website to refresh before i can a) finish and b) block the blog entirely.

like i said, annoying at BEST, and triggering at WORST.

dear GOD would it be so hard to show me the "this post is blocked because [tag]" shit i see on my regular "Following" page??? tell me "this trending post is from a user you block" instead of SHOWING me the posts because that's better than being forced to SEE THEM.

[kabuwu]

Thank you to both @thelocalmuffin and @angomay for tagging me ! I meant to do this a bit earlier but -_- .. here we are now . Assuming that we are all answering the same questions so :

Favorite colors :

Red (like uh . Blood) and also Magenta. I think paint wise it would be something like a quinacridone (?) Rose

Currently reading :

Nothing ! I've been meaning to read alot tho -_- ..

Last song I listened to :

Toss up between World's Smallest Violin and the Misery × Reeses Puffs × [insert whatever song it is I forgor here] remix (doooont judge me)

Last series I watched :

Mob Psycho 100 season 1 (rewatch bc my friend was watching it while I was staying over)

Last Movie I watched :

Probably the new Doctor Strange movie ? It was .. a movie . They tried to do a weird phantom of the opera parallel bc the girl's name is Christine . Did not land (personally . I could not care less abt anyone rly disagreeing. The scene with the music notes in the air was cool tho + could def tell Raimi was directing)

Cravings :

Pizza >_> . . I usually have that about every two weeks tho . What can I say ? Dough + cheese + tomato sauce = very nice and very good

What I'm working on :

Art piece for an event coming up ! I'm in the planning stages, just need to start drawing it out. I'm also technically "working" on my dgs fic WIPs (aka thinking abt them and not touching them)

Ok now for tagging . Supposed to be 9 people ? Dont feel a need to actually do it ofc if its not someth you want to do :

@b1gsh0t1997 @jellophoid @soumastix @wolf-three-fifty-nine @0wldn0 @your-favorite-cowboy @tigerhart @jzixuans

And literally anyone who sees this just say I tagged you and do it if you'd like :D!

[maybeimamuppet]

hello important things pls read!!

even if you don't read my fics this is also important for you!! pls read above the cut!! and if you do read my fics pls read below also!!

thank.

hey howdy hello and welcome!! happy holidays if you're reading this when it comes out!! and if not, then... happy day. yeeha.

ANYWAY!! i am soooo excited to share this with you guys, i've been working on this since SEPTEMBER omg. i finally get to publish and see your reactions and ugh i can't wait!!

from tomorrow until christmas, i will be updating EVERY. DAY. twenty five oneshots all at your disposal unless you're reading this in real time and have to wait for them to be published first.

and, i did it TWICE. that's right, i wrote FIFTY chapters in about two months. yes those are full suitcases under my eyes thank you for noticing.

FOR FOLKS WHO ARE JUST HERE FOR CHAOS AND DONT READ MY STUFF: i’ll be tagging all of these as “cadvent” so if you’re not in the mood to scroll a bit (i will be putting most of the fics under the cut like i normally do, kind of like this, but even still) feel free to block that tag :) and happy holidays!!

hello my darling readers!! welcome to below the cut. i’m imagining we’re all huddling under a parachute together like in elementary school pe rn. so fun.

anyway. every day there will be two new chapters!! one will be ‘vanilla’ cadnis, or the one without my twin oc’s leo and layla, and one will be with the twins. ill specify which in the title and opening notes :) i decided to do each twice because i had so many ideas and i know that kid/family fics are not everyone’s vibe. feel free to read both (please i beg i worked so hard) but if kidfic isn’t your kind of thing i understand.

credits for all the prompts go to bidiboop on wattpad!! i'm about four years late to this but whatever i wanna do it so i'm doin it now. rock n roll. thank you for the beautiful list!!

also!!!! some important shoutouts before we get into this beautiful holiday monstrosity. to my irl friends Kween, Nerd, and BeepBop, as well as @etchedstars and @/julez_20 on wattpad . thank you for letting me vent about this and/or for giving me ideas <333

and last but most definitely not least thank you to my friend bread @/paloma-nymph on wattpad or @/deadbreadrunning on ao3. this would not have happened without you. thank you from the bottom of my heart for all your support and inspiration. and also for making my beautiful covers :) also!!!!! they also did fifty chapters with the same prompts i'm using!!! bread did 25 days of heathers ships and 25 days of mean girls ships so everyone please go support my friend!!

before we get into the fics themselves, i wanted to give y'all some important information that i may or may not have included and didn't give context for (i can't remember!! so. have this.)

-to begin with!! this timeline is all sorts of wack. they do not go in chronological order at all even a little bit. 

in an attempt to make things easier i'll put the rough ages cadnis are and the rough ages the twins are in the opening notes of each chapter (bearing in mind that- in my timeline anyway- janis' birthday is in october and cady's is in february, so janis is a bit older)!! i may not have gotten the ages exactly correct bc i cannot do math!!! but give or take a year they're accurate. and even still there's a few little contradictions and things. but shhhh if we don't look too close maybe they'll go away.

-characters!! y'all know the ones in canon (i should hope) but here are some of the ones you might see mentioned:

-Elvira Sarkisian-Heron: Cadnis' pet black cat, adopted about a year after they were married. Occasionally goes by the nickname Ellie

-Daffodil Sarkisian-Heron: Cadnis' pet golden retriever, adopted after Cady completed her PhD when they were 26. Occasionally goes by the nickname Daffy

-Chip Heron: Cady's dad

-Betsy Heron: Cady's mom

-Rhys Heron: Cady's older brother, deceased. He was killed in the line of combat in the army when he was twenty and Cady was ten

-Juliette Sarkisian: Janis' mom. Occasionally goes by the nickname Ettie

-Luca Sarkisian: Janis' dad, deceased. He passed away from an illness when Janis was four. He's also French, that's kind of important

-Juliana Sarkisian: Janis' younger half sister. She was born when Janis was six. Occasionally goes by the nicknames Julie, Jules or Juju

-Pancakes Sarkisian: Janis' pet cat. She had him from the ages of 13-21

-Layla Reese Sarkisian-Heron: The elder twin (by three minutes). Louder, braver, and bigger in just about every sense. Occasionally goes by the nicknames Ladybug, Bug, Lala, or Loopsy

-Leo Juliette Sarkisian-Heron: The younger twin. Shy, quiet, but an absolute sweetheart. Occasionally goes by the nicknames Bumblebee, Bee, Lolo, or Lishy

-Elmer Sarkisian-Heron: Layla's stuffed elephant, received as a gift from Damian and Aaron when she was born

-Georgie Sarkisian-Heron: Leo's stuffed giraffe, also given to her by Damian and Aaron when she was born

other important shit (highly recommend reading my main book if you want more deeeeetails)

-cadnis got together on cady's birthday their senior year of high school (february 11)

-they did long distance for the first two years of university (janis was in new york and cady stayed in illinois. cady finished her undergrad in two years instead of the traditional four, and moved in with janis and damian in new york when they were 20 ish to start working on her master's degree)

-they got engaged right after janis finished her undergrad and cady finished her masters and they were ~22

-the twins' birthday is in may (may 14), so at their youngest they're six going on seven months old here :)

-cady and janis were 28 when the twins were born

-cady carried them

-the twins were born premature by almost two months and spent roughly a month in the nicu

-while cady was pregnant they developed twin to twin transfusion syndrome (in a nutshell, it's when two babies sharing a placenta in the womb don't share nutrients/blood/fluids/etc evenly and it can be deadly to both) and required surgery

and i believe that is everything!! hopefully but who knows lol.

anyway, without further ado...

happy holidays yall :)

[anotherteenageroninternet]

ABOUT ME POST BITCHES

-y'all can call me- Jiya ❤❤,or Molly , or any cool nickname you can come up with

-cabin- 6 (athena)

-pronouns- literally anything, she/her/he/him/they/them whatever you are comfortable with

-sexuality- confused af but i think im pan

-Nationality- desi

-My Spotify- Here

- My Instagram- @/wesper_worshipper

Fandoms:

Book/Book series:

Riordanverse

Eragon

Hunger games

The Mortal Instruments

The infernal Devices

The last hours

Harry Potter (fuck JKR)

Divergent

Maze Runner

Fifty Shades

After

Red, White and Royal blue

Fault in our Stars

Looking for Alaska

Paper Towns

An Abundance of Katherines

Turtles all the way down

Grishaverse

Sherlock

The Folk of the Air

All for the Game

Web Series/movies:

Sherlock

Young Royals

Squid Games

How I met your mother

FRIENDS

Brooklyn nine-nine

Anne with an e

Never have I ever

The Vampire diaries

Good Omens

Shadow and Bone

Loki

Pride and Prejudice(2005)

Music

One direction (band and solo both)

Omar Rudberg

Arctic Monkeys

The Weeknd

CORPSE

Taylor Swift

Hailee Steinfeld

Anime (i just started watching so the list is a bit short)

Death note

Attack on titan

Classroom of the elite

A silent voice

Spy x family

Jujutsu kaisen

My Hero Academia (currently watching)

Your Name

-currently in love with- Dove Cameron🛐🛐🛐, benadryl cucumbersnatch, OMAR RUDBERG <33

-married to- @willothewhisper (love of my life , she's the best )

-parabatai- @crzyprsn42 <33

-spawned on this earth in the year- 2003

-DNI- all pedophiles, homophobes, transphobes, racists, sexists, misogynists , terfs , abusers , and other stupid bigots please stay off my blog if you dont want me to kick your ass hard. next , and im adding this on 14th feb 22 that i dont ever put an age limit on my blog, but if you are below 14, please dont follow me, unless we're already mutuals or i follow you. you can ask me the reason if you want

-random info- i love being tagged in picrews and games and chains and all that stuff so please tag me , and if there maybe a chance that i didnt reply , i saw it and forgot about it im realllllllyyy sorry in advance about that.

i lovee talking to new people and make friends so if you wanna talk, or just tell me about your day, or share theories with me, or swoon of one direction and other hot people , im totally available lovelies<33

im the cool dad for all babies under 17 here(im 18 . HOLY SHIT IM 18 im 19!!) so yeah i can tell you a lot of dad jokes.

im also the kind of person who hates hates hates science but is fascinated by space and astronomy etc, its so full of possibilities yk?

my tags-

original posts as #mine

original shitposts as #jia shitposts

liveblogging as #liveblogging movies cuz i got no one to talk to , or #liveblogging series cuz i got no one to talk to

my most important post

[just-my-fandom]

One After Another (Cisco Ramon x Allen! Reader)

Chapter 1

Table of Contents

Part 1; Reader and Cisco meet their son from the future. Nora and their son admit to why they can’t go back to the future.

Request; Hi yes! Can I request a story? Or two long parts? Where the reader (Barry’s twin sister) and Cisco are married and reader is actually pregnant, and Nora shows up with a boy couple years older than her, and they reveal to be Barry and Iris’ daughter and the boy is reader and Cisco’s son, Dante? You don’t have to if you don’t want! Not forcing!

Tag list; None currently.

. . .

“Are you sure you dont want to know the gender?”

“I’m positive, Ralph,” You nod your head slowly, once, hands at your stomach and holding up your glass cup of (Favorite/Drink), “I mean, it’s not a big deal to me. We’ve already decided on names, Dante for a boy and Nora for a girl, simple,”

“But you guys could have a huge gender reveal party!” Ralph pleas, when Barry gets up to answer the door that was knocked on twice, “You could have party poppers, or have Joe dress up in a diaper!”

“I’ll kill you,” Joe threatens, and you snort, looking over your shoulder when two figures step into the living room, both darting their eyes around the living room as to scan each member of team Flash,

“I’m sorry,” Your brother rubs the back of his neck, brows pinched together as Cisco shifts in his spot beside you, arm along the back of the couch as his free hand held his wine glass- lucky, “Who are you guys?”

“I’m Nora,” The girl hesitates, hands wringing together, “Nora West-Allen,”

Before anyone can question on her last name, the boy next to her shifts, his eyes flicking to you, “I’m Dante,” You feel your chest tighten strangely, “Dante Henry Ramon,”

You feel Cisco cough on his wine, his hand behind you covering his mouth as he looks up at the young male, his brows pinched as his eyes then flicked to yours, “What?”

“I know this sounds super weird!” Nora tosses her hands in front of her, watching as her aunt and uncle stared at each other, before looking back up to her and Dante, “But we need your help,”

“I thought we were done with time traveling,” You sigh, tiredly, Cisco cocking his head in a “seriously?” motion, so you shrugged,

“What-what can we help you with?” Barry stammers, eyes narrowing slightly in thought,

“Dante and I were able to come to the past,” Nora explains, “Which is where we helped you destroy that satellite,”

“Wait, you’re a speedster?” Cisco points to Dante, your son forcing out a nervous laugh and a nod of his head,

“Great,” You murmur, so everyone looked to you, “I lose my speed and my son gains them,”

“Uh, you actually get your speed back after you give birth, Aunt Y/N,” Nora smiles, and watches as your lips pull upwards,

“Seriously?” You punch the air, free hand on your stomach, “Yes!”

“Okay,” Cisco shakes his head, standing up, “You’re telling me that the baby inside her right now,” He points to your bump, then raises his finger to Dante, “Is you?”

“Exactly,” Dante nods, “But I’m from 25 years in the future,”

“So you’re saying,” Barry runs a hand down his face, hand resting at his chin, “You’re my-our daughter,” He gestures to Iris, “And you’re my nephew?” Dante nods,

“I was named after both dads brother and Grandpa Henry,” He explains, looking to Nora, “Nora was named after Grandma Nora,”

“I see it as a win-win,” You grin, Cisco gesturing a hand out to you in disbelief,

“How are you so calm?”

“We’ve seen weirder things than this,” You remind, grasping the edge of the couch to stand, “Get me up, I can’t stand watching you drink wine while I’m stuck with (favorite/fruit) juice,”

“Why don’t we go to STAR Labs,” Iris speaks up, watching Cisco take your hand and raise you to your feet, allowing you to fully get a look at Dante, “We can figure all this out there, let you guys explain,”

. . .

“This is...”

“Weird,” Cisco finishes Barry’s sentence, looking to his brother in law who nods, both watching the two speedsters race around the speed lab, a mix of purple and yellow lightning blending with (favorite/color),

“Man I really miss my powers,” Your lips purse in a pout, hands curled under your stomach as your eyes easily kept up with the two speedsters,

“Can you really believe that’s our son up there?” Cisco murmurs, your eyes flicking to him, smiling at the grin on his face, “No matter how weird this is, it’s cool as hell,”

“I just can’t believe that we have a son,” You glance up to the running speedsters, “I was pretty sure Baby Ramon would be a girl,”

“Okay, we both know I was routing for a boy,” Cisco reminds, and you laugh, head tilting back with a grin.

“We need to be responsible with this,” Barry speaks up, your smile faltering as you look to him, “We need to find a way to send Dante and Nora back, and fast,”

“Yeah, I kind of agree,” Cisco purses his lips, “Even though this did ruin the “find out the gender at birth” scheme we were going for,”

Two figures speed to a stop behind you, your body turning to look to Nora and Dante both grinning at each other, them then looking to their parents in front of them,

“Okay guys,” Caitlin steps up, ordering the two to give her a hand, where she pierces their finger with a needle, “This is gonna link us up with your biometrics,”

“And these scrunchy things,” Cisco nods, moving in front of Dante to clasp the device around his wrist, “Is gonna analyze your connect with the Speed Force,”

Both teenagers nod as they both in sync look at their devices, grinning at each other before sprinting back around the speed lab,

“And what does it say?” Barry asks Caitlin, who types up the screen in front of her,

“A quick analysis of their DNAs show patterns that are familiar to all of you,”

“I knew it,” You nod, pursing your lips, “They’re our kids,”

“Well of course, Dante’s got my amazing hair,” Cisco twirls a lock of his hair, grinning when you shake your head.

“What about them being stuck here?” Barry continues, watching the quick interaction between his sister and best friend,

“Everything’s normal,” Cisco mutters, his own eyes on his screen as you move next to him, “They both have the speed force in their systems, they’re just... not going fast enough to open up the portal back to their timeline,”

Barry nods as his phone vibrates, glancing down with a short huff, “Damn, I was supposed to meet Singh at CCPD an hour ago,”

“Be safe,” You demand, your brother nodding before he speeds off, allowing you to look back up at the two speedsters, smiling lightly before looking back down to Cisco, his eyes looking up to meet yours before his hand presses to your bump, winking,

. . .

“I can’t believe I’m wearing the same tachyon enhancer my dad used to meet Supergirl for the first time,” Nora grins in excitement to her cousin next to her, who allowed Cisco to make adjustments to the same advice on his chest,

“I know, right?” Dante nods, gesturing to the device, “Mom had one too. But just the thought of them meeting Supergirl- cool as hell,”

“Alright,” Caitlin laughs, stepping back from Nora, “You’re both all set,”

“Did all these suits shrink?” The team looks up to Barry pulling at the bottom of his old Flash suit, your nose scrunching, “And why does it smell so bad?”

“Because it’s the one you used when you swam against King Shark, Uncle Barry,” Dante snickers, Barry nodding in realization,

“We should get going,” Barry presses his lips together as Dante and Nora frown to each other, Nora nodding in agreement, sadly,

“Then this is goodbye,” Dante says, clapping his gloved hands together as he glances to you, where you smile, softly, “It’s good to see you again, mom. I guess I’ll see you in a minute,”

“It was great meeting you,” You nod, “Even if it was six weeks too early,”

Dante laughs, glancing to Cisco, who holds up a pointed finger, “Answer this for me. Do I keep my long gorgeous locks even when I’m in my fifties?”

Dante holds up a finger to his lips, Cisco’s eyes widening in terror as he looks to his wife, where you laugh and snort against your hand, watching as Dante moved to the side of Barry Nora wasn’t at.

You wait, patiently, when the three speedsters rush off, looking over when Wally speeds up next to you, his hand at your arm, warningly, “Did they already leave?”

“Yeah, why? What’s up?” Iris asks, Wally shaking his head as he releases you,

“We have to stop them,”

Your eyes flick in alert to Cisco, flinching in alert to the explosion heard from behind the doors,

. . .

“Sorry I was too late,” Wally leans forward on his elbows, looking up to Nora on the labs bed, Dante and Barry both holding ice packs to their heads, “We got their Gideon to scan Nora and Dante’s blood samples,”

“Whatd she find?”

“Negative tachyons,” Wally sighs, your brows pinching as you glance to Cisco next to your chair,

“Negative tachyons?” Cisco questions, “So what, instead of speeding you up they slow you down?”

Wally nods, warily, Cisco frowning and huffing, “Well damn I was just joking, that’s a real thing?”

“Yeah. Ava and her team at the time bureau have encountered them before, but no one knows where they come from or how they’re generated.”

“Like Dark Matter for the space time continuum,” Barry nods,

“Exactly. They’re keeping Nora and Dante from entering the Speedforce,”

“Okay. I’ll work on this, you guys go help Ralph with the Gridlock crime scene,” Barry demands, ordering Dante and Nora to stay at the labs,

. . .

“We have to tell him,” Dante leans against Cisco’s desk as he watches Nora stare at the group photo of their family, his eyes staring down at the floor, “Uncle Barry at least deserves to know,”

“Nora,” Barry speaks up, so both Dante and Nora looked up at him, “What happens to me? In the future?”

Nora, Dante and Barry all stand in front of Gideon’s screen, the bright words, “FLASH VANISHES IN CRISIS,” shining in their faces,

“How long?” Barry orders, Nora tapping the screen so a new news article shined, saying, “25 YEARS LATER- FLASH STILL MISSING,”

Barry clenches his jaw, Dante clearing his throat, “You never come back,”

Barry glances back to look at him, then Nora, “How old were you when it happened?”

“I was born a few years before you vanished, I was at the age where I don’t have memories, but Dante, was,” Nora answers, shortly,

“Youre not stuck here, are you guys?” Barry realizes, Dante glancing down at his feet before looking up at his uncle,

. . .

“So you’re not stuck here,”

“No, we’re not,” Nora glances up to look at Iris, who sits in the seat in the corner of the West living room,

“So the reverse tachyons in your systems?”

Dante looks to Caitlin, “Were put there because of us,”

“Are you kidding?” Cisco asks, leaning on the couch beside Ralph, “Do you know how many credit card points I just blew just trying to get rid of those negative tachyons? I just bought a brand new spectral tachyeometer when I could’ve taken Y/N on our Fiji get away,”

“Why didn’t you guys tell us about this before?” Iris asks, “And why tell us when Y/Ns not here? She will be thrilled to know Dante gets to stay longer,”

“We can’t tell Y/N,” Barry instructs, Cisco looking up at him with pinched brows,

“And why not?”

Nora lifts her wrist to show the hologram of the same news letter from earlier, Cisco sitting up to read it more clearly,

“Barry never returns?” Cecile gasps, looking over to Cisco,

“Y/N doesn’t even know I disappear,” Barry explains, “And she can’t know. Not now,”

“And why not?” Cisco repeats, “You just want to throw it at her last minute as if we don’t know it’ll happen years in advance?”

“We don’t know what the news will do to her,” Barry reasons, gesturing to Dante, “She could go into early labor, complications can happen due to stress,”

“When uncle Barry does vanish later, mom falls into depression,” Dante tries, Cisco looking to him, “The realization of her losing not only Grandma Nora and Grandpa Henry, but uncle Barry disappearing, it takes a huge effect to her,”

“That’s why you came here,” Joe points to Nora, “To see your father,” Then Dante, “And your mothers brother before he vanished,”

“Well,” Iris stands up, Nora glancing up to her, “Looks like Dante and Nora will be able to train some more, after all,”

Dante and Nora look to grin at one another, Barry announcing to meet at STAR Labs in the next hour, “We’ll make an excuse as to why Dante and Nora are able to stay longer,”

. . .

“Babe? We’re home,”

You look up from the stove with pinched brows, stepping in the entrance of the kitchen so you see not only Cisco, but Dante,

“We?” You question, Dante pressing his lips together with a wave, “Were you not able to get him and Nora home?”

“Actually, yes,” Cisco nods, setting down his jacket, “But, Barry has decided to let them stay longer, train them more on their powers,”

“Will it not affect the future?” You ask, glancing up at Cisco when he moves up to you,

“Barry’s got it all under control,” Cisco nods, “Dont worry,”

“Okay,” You sigh, hands at his torso as you look to Dante, “Well. Welcome home I suppose. Why don’t you go get settled in the guest room, since, you know. Your bedroom is still a nursery,”

Your son laughs, nodding, “Yeah. Thanks mom,” You watch as he disappears down the hall, glancing up at your husband of three years,

“Mom,” You repeat, Cisco smiling as your eyes flash with warmth, “I’m never gonna get used to it,”

“Two more months,” Cisco reminds, hands slipping from your waist to your stomach, hands under your shirt, “And we get to meet baby Dante,”

You laugh, nodding, hands sliding around his neck to tangle in his hair, “I love you,”

“Mm, not as much as I do,” Your husband teases, leaning forward so his lips met yours, hand sliding to your back to pull you closer, so your stomach pressed to his,

You release a sigh against his mouth, smiling as you lean back, “C’mon, I made your favorite,”

[first-only]

Despite the fact that I am getting more comfortable with being SaLS on main, I still get incredibly anxious when I get an anti message

I'm just so scared to have a callout post written about me, and you can never know who will or wont try to set you up for harassment (especially if they are an anti) It doesn't help that I'm incredibly anxious and paranoid a lot of the time

congrats on getting more comfy!! and yeah anxiety is a bitch but i believe in you! at some point you kinda get callous and desensitized to random messages lol

i dont mean to make it worse at all, and if that line of thinking doesnt work for you i apologize, but here's a few things ive picked up over the years:

it doesnt like... /really/ matter what you post. things that you or a wider audience consider "problematic" arent the only way you can get "cancelled". like i got called racist for pointing out that two phrases in different languages can be translated in the same way in english. like literally ranting in the tags about my own language ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ so for people determined to look and sift for 'material' it wont really make a difference if youre posting incest fic or like.. oogling over the celebrity of the day, they just wanna pick a fight. so do what makes you happy anyway, it wont give them teeth if you dont worry about the content yourself. bc yeah it doesnt matter on the internet if you post fic or just aesthetics, they have the same 'moral' value and if you dont assign them different weights then someone else doing it shouldnt bother you either

in the.. absolute best gentlest and encouraging way to say this. you and like. all of us are just some randos on the internet. the chances of someone leading a /personalized/ harassment campaign against you, or even someone finding you that juicy of a target to have more people message you is like. /really/ low. even if you get messages from time to time, a whole ass campaign is unlikely unless you have a lot of followers/are a BNF/are the lead content creator for a rival ship to the main one (bc lets be real all this is one giant ship war at the end of the day)

callouts or "block" lists are usually mass things in my xp. like you get put among 20 other usernames and then you bond w the others over the experience and are happy that you found new likeminded mutuals. the amount of times ive followed an entire list of ~problematics ive been featured in lol. its ironically a bonding experience and with a few blocks out of the way its kinda.. positive in the best case?

and really. really. i might be like. a bit too callous but at this point. even if there is a harassment campaign. even if you get a huge callout. even if half tumblr blocks you. so what? block out the haters, lie in with the mutuals, vent to some side friends. and just. keep going. so what if a bunch of rabid antis are raging out of their skin because youre having fun and trying to tell the other antis that youre having fun. yes you are. so what. what are they gonna do, make fifty accounts? send more anons? catch even more blocks? (reminder that if you block someone on anon it catches their entire ip so they cant make more accs to harass you). like yes, take precaution not to get doxxed (no sharing of identifying info, including where you live) but thats common safety anyway, and most antis arent tech savvy enough to dox anyway. you'll be fine. even if an account gets mass reported you can always write down mutuals' urls and start over (my own mutuals have a lot of experience, the propara community is fun lol) you can still share content, have fun, be yourself. its not a deadly situation. not to be 'the internet isnt real life it doesnt matter' bc yeah it can very much be anxiety inducing and horrible, but at the same time taking a step back yourself and evaluating the situation can help a lot with emotional regulation (just like in real life! some relationships are worth stepping away from, or getting less invested into if they become toxic)

so yeah thats my general view of the problem, again brains are weird and no two work the same, but these things help me and make me feel better, so hopefully if not you personally they might soothe someone in general ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

really hoping you find your community and comfort anon. fandom is a great place with it and a barren wasteland without, but imo its worth sharing even if for that one thrill /you/ get when someone likes it or when you find some gem

[slutsofren]

Paint Me Red

Summary:  Being a struggling artist in a city filled of aspiring artists has always been rough, you were privileged enough to have a semblance of steady income thanks to the promotional work your manager, Poe Dameron, does for you. For the past however many weeks, you've become consumed with the works of an anonymous poet, one who has captivated their own cult following. Their works have inspired countless paintings of yours and in turn, you catch the eye of one Kylo Ren.

Tags: Kylo Ren reader insert / modern au / painter reader / poet Kylo / eventual romance / maybe smut idk / Kylo has Trauma but you dont have to “fix him”

Read on AO3 here!

Chapter 1: Gallery (below the cut)

You kept looking at the painting. No matter how many times you re-painted, reinterpreted this poem, your hands just couldn’t find a consistent translation between the words and your paint. You dropped the brush and leaned back in the chair, hanging your head as far back as you could and let out a loud groan.

“Why does this have to be so complicated ,” you exclaimed to nobody in particular. It’s been a month since you cooped yourself in this studio, a whole month! It felt like you’ve accomplished nothing but waste canvas and paint this entire time. All along the floor laid waste to the discarded abstract portraits you had produced and hated. Nearly a fraction had been left unfinished due to it just not working out.

You mumbled and grumbled while you stood and relocated to the workspace of the studio, where a computer and books had been thrown about. The computer woke, nearly blinding your eyes. What time is it anyways, you wondered. The sun had set some time ago, you knew just as much when you could barely see your work and were forced to lose focus to turn on a light. That distraction had really set you back.

A quick glance to your watch informed you that no, the sun didn’t just set a while back- it set well over six hours ago. The time had been creeping to two in the morning already, no wonder your eyes were straining so hard. When your computer unlocked and you opened your music app to play some background audio, you grabbed the leatherbound book that was inspiring your work.

Nobody knew who the author was, only that they released two-hundred and fifty black leather bound books with gold foiling titled “Mine” every couple of years. You were close friends to some editors down in San Diego, the same publisher that worked with this anonymous author and they were always kind enough to secure you a copy.

They wrote like it was the last thing they’d ever write, as if pain circulated through their veins. They wrote of being lost, being hurt, feeling such intense anger with no human outlet, and of being ignored and tossed away.

Sometimes they wrote like they’d be dead before the poem had ended.

Much of this resonated with you. Ever since you moved to Los Angeles, this magnificent city of wanna-be actors and musicians, seeing lights that inspired yet mocked the pedestrians down below, you’ve felt like you were dead yourself. When you moved here, all you ever wanted to be was a painter. It didn’t always matter what you painted, you loved a variety of styles and eras, as long as commissions paid the bills and your personal pieces sold at galleries, you were satisfied.

But sometimes being satisfied wasn’t enough.

You took the black book and opened to the poem you had been hyper-fixating on for the last couple of months since it was released. You interpreted it in as many ways as you could style your hair on any given day. This one spoke to you the moment you read it, it broke your heart, mended it, then threw it away all at once. To you, this particular poem breathed new life into your soul.

You read each line over and over, admired how this poet seemed to write effortlessly, as if it’s just how they speak. Gosh, what you would do just to meet and have a conversation, to understand the mysterious writer’s genius.

And so you kept painting, never seeing each unfinished canvas as a failure but rather an entirely different interpretation. You couldn’t let this get you down, you just had to keep working- keep picking up the paint and let loose.

As the days blended together, your manager, Poe Dameron waltzed into your workspace without a care in the world. You turned down the music that you had playing in the background while you worked.

He picked up one of your unfinished works, “I got you a gallery space, set for two weeks from now in Pasadena. Sponsored by the Norton Simon Museum.” The way these words rolled off his tongue was so nonchalant, you didn’t believe it.

You let out a choke, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, you got a space, now give me something to tide them over with- oh, that looks nice can I take that one,” he grabs another unfinished painting. “Anyways, don’t worry about promoting it, they are all over it. They’re just calling it Artist Spotlight but they’re going to need a theme name.”

Your eyes drifted over your amazing manager, he worked just as tirelessly as you did with each and every one of his clients. It was no wonder he was married already, with a charming smile like his and the luscious hair to match made him a total darling.

“Let’s call it, Paint Me Red .”

“You got it, girl,” he walked over to you and gave a chaste kiss on your cheek and left with his silent goodbye. Although you were nothing more than his client, you loved him very much. He always gave you a rough time when you needed it but was always a person you could rely on to tell you the truth when you needed it.

To sum it up, Poe Damereon was a guy you paid to berate you like a protective older brother and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Those two weeks passed and you worked even more tirelessly. The artist in you was seldom satisfied by your creations but your manager reaffirmed even your “trash” paintings were more beautiful than the best modern oil paintings for which you found yourself taking the most comfort in.

It was difficult to remove yourself from this mindset but as your gallery expanded with each rise of a new day, you became prouder of not just what you painted but of yourself. This was going to be a showcase that you were to be proud of.

Your night came which brought nerves like no other. Los Angeles had a rough art community to grow and develop but this was the place for you. You arrived at the gallery, dressed as professional yet as fierce as you could in a shimmery silver gown that bared your shoulders in a skinny strap that had a plunging neckline. You wanted to wow your crowd with your paintings and yourself.

You poured your heart out over this collection- you wanted, more than ever, to receive a warm reception and maybe a little bit of praise in the meantime. It didn’t make you vain, it made you human.

The director of the art studio welcomed you with a glass of champagne and let you wander the space before it opened to the public. Your heart swelled with emotion as you glanced over all these white walls that supported your artwork. Abstracts, sharp lines on some, a couple that resembled portraits of a human-like void. Anything and everything of what could be taken of that single poem.

Over some small amount of time, guests began to fill the building, allowing others to finally view what you’ve worked tirelessly over these past however many weeks, well, months really. As the newness of this exhibit of yours wore off, you began to get antsy, started to bite on the inside of your cheek.

You felt eyes on you as you hid your face behind the fourth glass of champagne you managed to snag. The more nervous you felt, the hotter the room got. This is beginning to be way too much- oh stars, you can’t breathe- it feels like you’re dying, like you’re-

“Are these yours,” a dark voice asked behind you. You stood up straight and turned slowly, trying to get your mind away from whatever was happening to you.

“I- yes they are.”

This tall, handsome stranger looked at the painting that was next to you, something that mildly resembled Everts’ Studies in Desperation series. It was one of your darker interpretations, something filled with a little more hatred and angst than the rest.

“They’re very nice, what inspired you?”

Your mouth opened agaped and quickly shut, you didn’t want to look like a fish now. You opened up your bag and pulled out your trusty copy of Mine and showed the stranger. “This poet, their selections have always called to me but, Red, Mine would repeat in my head nearly nonstop until I picked up a brush and painted what it spoke to me.”

He grabbed the book from your hand and flipped through it slowly, sometimes reading the short notes you had written on some of the pages, like “I love this one,” or even, “I’ve felt like this before”. As he took his time going through the leatherbound poetry, you took this moment just to admire just how handsome the man before you is.

He stood tall and confident, long black hair that looked soft enough that you had to refrain from running your fingers through; his face was littered with constellation-like moles that truly gave his presence some warmth and beauty despite the deep angry red scar that cut threw them like a blade. The large crooked nose stood just as prominent as his ears but, by the stars, he made it work. All of these features suit his being so well, almost as if he was your own personal Adonis, you wanted to paint his beauty.

His long lashes finally looked up from your bookmarked page of Red, Mine where you had written very simply, “This one,” and a heart. He closed the black book with a small thud, almost entirely muted by the sounds of your audience mingling.

“You really liked that one,” he questioned as he handed the object back to you. You took it from him and gestured around you.

“All of these paintings represent how this one poem has made me feel. Loss, hope, anger, hurt, fear,” you paused while you looked at the man before you and held his gaze, “But most of all, this particular poem has made me feel accepted. Like I’m not alone. Almost like, it’s my turn to be strong, it’s silly-”

“No, by all means, no, it’s not silly,” he interrupted you. His eyes had grown wide and you realized he put his hand out to almost hold your shoulder but quickly retreated to put his hands in the pockets of his suit’s pants. His jaw flexed for a brief moment and he looked to his feet. “I have their collection too. It’s a good read from time to time.”

Your lips turned up in a small grin, “Yeah, they are. I’m glad to have met another Anonymous Poet enthusiast.”

He looked up at you and cleared his throat, “What’s something you’d say to them if you ever could?”

“Hmm,” you wondered, “That I love their work, I’d love to sit down and talk, wonder what they think- what their thought process is. Maybe thank them for helping me cope and tell them that I don’t think I’d be alive without their words. Heck, I’d even work up the courage and ask if they like my interpretations of their poetry. I’m not sure, what would you say?”

He looked at you almost like you had shot him, “I think I’d simply say that I’m sorry they went through whatever they did to get them where they are. That they’re stronger now.”

Before you had a chance to respond, Poe came and placed his hand on your arm and called your name, “Hey, girl. Time for your speech and then people can start buying your art.”

You looked back at your strange new friend and he gave you a small encouraging smile, “It was nice meeting you.”

As Poe began to drag you away you piped up, “I didn’t catch your name!”

“Kylo- Kylo Ren.”

You gave him a small wave before you turned your back on him and approached the stage. Poe did the honors of introducing you, calling your vision “illuminating and awe-inspiring”. Finally it was your turn.

You approached the glass podium with only a mild case of anxiety shaking within your bones. The lights, however warmly hued they were to temper against the constant rotation of art still seemed like a spotlight on you. You cleared your throat.

“Hi- hello,” you introduced yourself, mentioning you're the creator, “Thank you all very much for being here and supporting me tonight. This entire exhibit is decorated with a wide variety of my illustrations in both dedication of and inspired by the Anonymous Poet, creator of Red, Mine the poem. It is only fitting that I should read the very words that seemed to have possessed my mind these past couple months, you think?”

The audience gave a chuckle. You looked up and around, feeling hints of anxiety nipping at the silhouette of your being. Across the room, leaning against the small bar table, you spotted Mr. Ren and when he noticed you staring, he raised his glass of champagne. Urging you to continue.

It was almost as if his steady gaze and warm features guided your confidence to hold steadfast and ready, your courage multiplied and tingles at the tips of your body, sparking new found strength.This small gesture kept those dark hounds at bay in your mind.

You cleared your throat and began, “Red, Mine

This is how the story goes

It has never changed, never been altered

It didn’t make much difference

The twin suns are rising in the west now,

The world changed from when you knew me last

This is how the story goes

This life of mine would be snuffed in green lights

Then you were there to guide me

Truth is, you could never be thanked

I would never be forgiven

This is how the story goes

I snuffed the little lights that had mocked me

Tore down the buildings that confined me

I ran

I never stopped running

This is how the story goes

I found solace in red

This green and blue would have ended my life

The both of you tried and failed

I will live on bathed in black and red

This is how the story goes

This fire red consumed me

I consumed red

Now it’s your turn to run.”

At the beat of the last syllable, you could hear a warm applause, a gracious signal of congratulations. Your smile kissed the corners of your lips and your heart swelled with warmth. This was exactly where you were meant to be in life and you couldn’t be prouder of yourself.

Your speech wrapped up with the ceremonious thank yous and appreciation to all who came as well as the Norton Simon Museum for sponsoring the showcase. Not to mention the big fat check you got on their behalf.

Poe lent you a hand as you descended the platform, “Alright, now go mingle and sell some art!”

You gave him a warm kiss on the cheek and another wave of thanks. One hand took yet another glass of champagne as the other held your clutch tightly. Your heels clinked against the tile of the gallery as you floated in and out of conversation, selling your artwork and trying to network and make new professional relationships.

It was rather obvious that leaving early would be considered rude but your feet hurt as much as your eyes. All you wanted was your warm bed and soft music to lull you to sleep. You spotted Poe across the room speaking with a pale gentleman, donned in a navy blue suit and matching tie, his orange hair was just as slicked back as his authoritative presence. You watched as they shook hands and the stranger departed, leaving the building entirely without a glance back.

Poe caught your eye and his jaw dropped, just nearly bolting into a fast pace walk, attempting to keep whatever semblance of professionalism as he could without knocking any of the patrons over as he bee-lined straight to you.

“You will not believe what I’m about to tell you,” his brown eyes lit up.

You gave him a hesitant look, clearly it was good news but usually Poe Dameron was in a good mood usually meant him ending in some kind of trouble. “Then don’t tell me?”

Your manager gave you a deadpanned look and pulled out his clipboard, “Every single piece was sold before you even walked off the stage.” He handed you the order sheet and sure enough, each and every painting was bought by the same person, leaving only AP as the buyer’s name.

“AP?”

“Initials for a little someone called the Anonymous Poet,” with those words you instantly felt faint. There was no way, no goddamn way.

“Was that him? Poe, was that really him,” your voice faltered. Your hand rose to cover your open mouth, eyes wide.

He did nothing but shrug and give you a sly smile, admiring your shocked expression, “The man I talked to was not, rest assured, but clearly your muse admires you and your work.” Poe gave you a small squeeze on your shoulder, feeling your oncoming emotional whirlwind. “If you faint on me now, you won’t hear the best part,” he teased.

“What is it, tell me,” you rushed the words out as fast as you could, the heat licking at your skin as your anticipation mixed with anxiety.

Poe reached into his pocket and retrieved a sleek black business card and flashed it at you. “Expect an email within the next few days, your muse wants to talk with you.”

You felt Poe’s warm hands grasping your shoulders as you fell. After all, Poe did say to wait until after he gave you good news.

[msjr0119]

A Second Chance

Prologue

Book: The Royal Romance

Series Pairings: Liam x Riley (Flashbacks), Drake x Hana (Flashbacks), Drake x Riley (Present Time- Friendship?).

*All characters belong to Pixelberry apart from Bethany Hughes-Rhys*

Please do not read this series if you are under 18 or if you are affected by any of the below trigger warnings. By doing so, you are consenting that you are over 18.

Warnings: Mention of suicide (past tense), Grief, Depression, Mention of two characters death. Slight adult language.

A/N: So this is a follow up to my ‘Hold On’ series. I was really confused when @kacie-0156 requested for me to do this as she is a Liam Stan. I still don’t understand 🤷‍♀️ but I’ll try my best! Thank you Kacie for the moodboard that you have provided. 💕❤️ The series takes part over two decades after ‘Hold On’ finished.

Song Inspiration: One Sweet Day, Mariah Carey Ft Boyz II Men

Word Count: 3,200

Tags, off the top of my head- as always if you want to be removed/added don’t hestitate in asking me: @pedudley @kacie-0156 @annekebbphotography @yukinagato2012 @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @kimmiedoo5 @bascmve01 @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @lodberg @cmestrella @axwalker @hopefulmoonobject @notoriouscs @rafasgirl23415 @walker7519 @drakewalker04

*****

It had been six months since that day. The day that the Queen of Cordonia realised that her fairytale life had been snatched away from her in an instant. Today was the first day in which she had made an effort with her appearance. Upon her arrival she could sense that all her friends were eager to pounce on her, demanding to know that she was okay. Interrogate her. Keeping that stoic expression, she avoided conversations with her close friends- instead just remained civil with her children and people such as Francesco. Keeping a speech minimal, she thanked everyone for coming before returning to her quarters. Alone. This had been a common occurrence- keeping herself guarded. Not allowing anyone to break down the walls that she had built up.

Jackson noticed that his Auntie had been specifically quiet since that day six months ago. Walking over towards Princess Ayah and Prince Louis, they both smiled softly - however provided sorrow in their eyes.

“Is your Mom okay?” Ayah shook her head. Not really knowing how to explain the mask that Riley was wearing to hide her true feelings.

“She’s not coping, Jackson. I’m scared that she’s going to do something stupid. Before we existed, she tried to end her life in New York. My Father didn’t want to tell us about it, but he did one night to explain how much of a fighter our Mom is. She isn’t talking to anyone apart from us and her Godchildren. Whenever any of her friends try to talk to her, she shuns them away. Maybe Uncle Drake could try and talk to her again? Because you know....” Jackson didn’t need Ayah to continue that sentence, he knew full well what she was about to say.

“I’ll go and mention it to him. Don’t worry about Aunt Ri. She has everyone here, supporting her.” Kissing the Princess on the cheek, he scrutinised the room for his father. Jackson Walker adored his ‘cousins’ and ‘Auntie’- even though they wasn’t blood, he felt as if they were.

******

“Brooks....” Feeling like this was a waste of time, Drake decided that the best option was to walk away, as she wasn’t responding. Jackson placed a comforting hand onto his father’s shoulder, suggesting that Drake should leave. Feeling like a failure, to Ayah who believed that they would get her Mom to open up to them- Jackson decided to try himself. Listening to his son’s advise, Drake left in a swift motion- frustrated that he couldn’t persuade her to come out of her hovel and just talk.

“Aunt Ri?” Jackson said softly as he knocked on the door. Riley knew she was being stubborn whenever a visitor would knock on the door- but for some reason she could never ignore her children, or her friends children.

“Jackson.” Smiling at his Auntie, he pulled her in for a tight hug. “What can I do for you?”

“Have a walk? Or just a little talk with me? We all miss you, and we want to help you through it. Dad just wants to help too. You could help each other?”

“You’re only twenty one Jackson, you should be out with your friends- enjoying life. Don’t take a minute for granted. You should be living each day as if it’s your last.” Listening to her words, he knew what she was referring to. His heart sunk, the usual poised Queen stood in front of him was absolutely broken even if she tried to conceal it. “I miss him so much Jackson, and I miss your Mom too. Each day that goes by, doesn’t get any easier. I need to be strong for Ayah, Louis and Ellie but truth be told- they are so much stronger than I am.”

“Aunt Ri, everything will get better in time. Uncle Liam loved you- as did my Mom. They would both want you to be happy, being the strong woman that you are. Please don’t stay up here on your own. If you need anything, dont hesistate to let anyone know. Whether that’s to watch a film, or to go for a cronut, a walk in the maze? It’s Dad’s birthday party tomorrow night- fifty. The old fart. It would be good to see you there. Ayah is going with Louis, El, Uncle Leo and Aunt Beth.”

“I’ll see how I feel. Thank you for the talk Jackson. You remind me so much of your Mom, caring- thinking about everyone.”

“Shame I look like my Dad then.” Riley laughed as the young man winked at her. “I love you, Aunt Ri.”

*****

Drake woke up the following morning, not really in the mood to celebrate his fiftieth birthday. However he knew that he needed to make the effort. Mainly due to the blood, sweat and guts that Maxwell had put in to organising it. It had been six months since he had said goodbye to his wife and best friend- the King. The traumatic events from that night still haunted him- the grief was still lingering every second of each day that went by. But what was also breaking his heart was how Riley was coping with the loss of her husband and her friend. Ever since the funeral, the Queen had ignored her friends, barely acknowledged their existence- keeping herself to herself.

Making himself look presentable, he headed over to Ramsford with Jackson.

*****

“Speech, speech, speech....” Maxwell shouted, peer pressuring Drake to make a speech. The last speech was the eulogy he spoke at Hana’s funeral. He wasn’t confident when it came to speaking in front of crowds, but he believed the sooner he did it the sooner it would be over and done with.

“Well what can I say? I’m an old man now. I’d like to thank you all for coming today, drinking whiskey in honour of me... you all know me too well. I know it’s been six months, they say that time gets easier but it really doesn’t. I wish that three other people could be here by my side celebrating this milestone with me; my wife Hana, my best friend Liam and our Queen.” Lifting his tumbler of whiskey up into the air, the others followed suit. Drake closed his eyes for a brief second, imagining the happier times with Liam, Riley and Hana- imagining that this was just some awful nightmare that he couldn’t escape or wake up from. But no this was reality. He had lost his best friend and wife to a successful assassination. Opening his eyes, the room was mute- all eyes focusing towards the doorway.

“Brooks?” Riley raised her drink in to the air as she smiled softly towards him. Placing the empty glass on the table next to her, she turned around and headed towards the balcony needing a bit of fresh air. Following her, he just wanted to make sure that she was okay- that she was coping. Even though he knew that she wasn’t. He never imagined that she would turn up, due to her personality recently.

“Hey.” Drake nervously said, as he watched her staring up to the starry sky- her eyes fixated on the brightest one.

“Hey, old man. Happy birthday!”

“Less with the old man cheeky... you’ll be catching up soon...”

“Maybe, but you’ll still be older than me. I got you a present, I wasn’t sure if I was coming or not- it’s too predictable but I’m sure you’ll make use of it.” Handing him the bag, he shook his head whilst laughing. “I’m far too predictable, I’m going to be turning into whiskey with the amount that people have bought me. Thank you, Riley.”

“No need to thank me. Enjoy the rest of your party.”

“Are you leaving?”

“I’m going to mingle with everyone, I’ve not been myself- hiding away from everyone. Seen as though I’ve made the effort, I may as well make the most of it.” Drake smiled at her. Their past was complicated to say the least- but they had put that behind them. But now he felt the need to protect her, something that he didn’t do when they was together- he owed it to himself as well as to Liam.

“It’s good to see you out and about. If you need anything- just let me know.”

“I just need my friends and children. Which I already have. I needed my husband. I still do. I miss him so much.”

“So do I. You’re not alone. I miss Hana, I know you do too. You have myself and Jackson, your children- who aren’t children anymore. You know what I mean. Leo, Beth, the Beaumont’s, Liv.”

*****

Jackson, Ayah, Louis and Ellie all walked towards the balcony- Jackson put his arm in front of them all to prevent them going any further, noticing that his Dad and Aunt was too close.

“And what are you all doing?”

“Aunt Liv! You made us jump.” Ayah said, as she tried to catch her breath.

“Oh hell no.” Leo commented as he joined in spying on Drake and Riley. “Do you think they are going to grieve together and do more?”

“Uncle Leo! That’s our Mom and our Uncle that you’re talking about.”

“Oh kids, they were together well before they married their spouses. They were even due to have a baby until this jerk called Nate beat myself and Riley to a pulp.” Shrugging his shoulders, the young adults looked at other confused as to why this was such a big secret kept from them.

*****

“I know I have you all. I am grateful for that.” Pulling her closer to him, he held her in his embrace. Hearing her whimpers, and feeling the tears drip onto him- his grip became tight. Not in a hurtful way, more of a protective type of way.

“You are an amazing Queen, you are doing a fabulous job.”

“I’m stepping down, Drake. Louis is taking over from me.”

“Louis? Ayah is the Crown Princess. She’s the eldest.”

“History is repeating itself. She abdicated from her duties last week. Louis’s social season begins at the end of the week.”

“You’re putting him through a social season. Jesus Brooks why?”

“He decided it, not me. I didn’t want my children to go through what Liam- What we all went through. I can’t rule without Liam, and I’m not remarrying. Don’t tell anyone that I told you, I’m going to do a statement. I can trust you, right? You’re one of my closest friends.” What we went through. The social season of hell.

“Of course you can trust me.” Cupping her cheeks, he said this with sincerity surrounding his eyes.

“I.. I should go.” Kissing her softly on the cheek, she inhaled sharply. Her heart began to flutter, Drake wasn’t Liam- but having someone this close to her for the first time in months felt unusual. Someone who she loved once upon a time.

“Look after yourself, Brooks. We are all here for you. Always.”

****

Riley did Drake’s usual trick throughout the party- ‘people watching’. She had some conversations with her friends but kept it minimal. The common questions and phrases spoken in these conversations included Liam. Deep down she knew that it was good to talk about him, but for her it was still so raw.

Maxwell bounded up towards her, very intoxicated. “Your majesty. You look absolutely beautiful. I’ve missed you.”

“Thank you. I’ve missed you too. I’m sorry.”

“Blossom, don’t apologise.”

“I have to. I haven’t been myself since I - we lost Liam. And Hana.”

“Come on, lets get out of here for a bit...” Holding his hand out towards her, she remained standing dormant.

“I’m actually going to head to Valtoria.”

“Stay here. You still have a room here. It’s yours...” Pausing for a second, she couldn’t help but smile at the man stood in front of her with the goofy smile. “How is Drake coping?” Maxwell was unsure as to why she asked this.

“Erm, he has a few quiet days. The therapy is helping him though. He blames himself for what happened that night... but you know Drake, he always wears that scowl to cover his true emotions. I know you’ve probably heard this a million times, but Liam and Hana wouldn’t want either of you to be unhappy. A little birdy told me that Louis is beginning a social season. Why didn’t you tell me? I’d have supported you!”

“DRAKE TOLD YOU?” Not realising how loud she was, Drake made his way over to them. Wondering why his name was mentioned. Wondering why Riley’s quiet tone of voice had raised all of a sudden.

“No, Louis did. Drake knew?”

“I knew what? Brooks, are you okay?”

“About Louis becoming King... I assumed you told Max. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” The two men pulled her in for a hug, as she eventually broke down uncontrollably crying. “Don’t apologise blossom. For anything.” Maxwell whispered.

“I’m going to go to my room. Thank you for inviting me, both of you.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” After Maxwell asked this, Drake decided to leave the two of them. Before he could escape, Riley grabbed his hand- forcing him to turn to face her.

“Drake?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we talk upstairs? Alone. I have realised that I should talk to someone. Someone who is going through the same emotions... I won’t keep you for too long, it’s your party. I just feel if I don’t do this now, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do it.”

“Of course we can talk. For as long as you need to.” The friends all overheard Riley’s request including her children. All smiling softly, knowing that this was the first step she was taking to get out of the depression. To grieve with some support. To move on from her husbands death but to keep his memory alive. Baby steps.

****

Drake sat down on the edge of the bed as Riley poured him a whiskey.

“Who’d have imagined we’d have been here, in this situation. Didn’t Kiara and Nate put us through enough shit?” Laughing nervously, she wasn’t sure how to begin this difficult conversation.

“But that shit, led us both to begin families with our loved ones. You have to think of it that way..”

“True.” There was an awkward silence due to Riley’s lack of response.

“Why have you been avoiding us all?” Not wanting to sound harsh, but he needed to know. Deep down he had an inkling as to why. He just needed this confirmation, so everybody could help in the best possible way.

“I couldn’t cope. I lost the love of my life unexpectedly. Seeing you all reminded me of him. I’d go to bed, holding my wedding photo- snuggling into Liam’s clothes. It still hasn’t sunk in. I’m so sorry that I’ve ignored you all...”

“We understand, we had just hoped that you would have let us help you. I’ve been the same. If it wasn’t for those morons downstairs, I think I’d have drunk whiskey all day every day to blank the pain.. we both loved Liam and Hana, and they both loved us dearly.” In sync, the two of them briefly closed their eyes- images of their spouses flashing through their mind.

“Louis suggested starting the social season to keep my mind off of things. But it’s just going to bring memories back. Of us. Of everybody.”

“It may be a good thing? We are all going to support you both.” Snuggling close to him, she felt his arm go around her waist. “Why did Ayah abdicate?”

“She’s... she’s... oh god, Drake... this is so embarrassing...”

“What?”

“She’s her father’s double. Insisting that she doesn’t want a political marriage, that she wants to marry for love. Ayah started a relationship with.....” Drake’s brain began functioning. His first thought was his son, Jackson. If it was Jackson, he knew that people would criticise her choice- due to his commoner blood that ran through his veins.

“Who?” He eventually questioned, not quite knowing if he wanted to hear the answer or not.

“Theo...” Riley shrugged her shoulders as his jaw practically hit the floor.

“You’re having me on... aren’t you?”

“No. I wish I was... honestly... I’m hoping it’s just a fling. But you can’t help who you fall in love with.” Looking down towards the floor, she bit her lip as she was referring to him. Referring to their past. Hoping that he wouldn’t realise.

“No you can’t help who you fall in love with..” Pausing, he decided to make a joke out of it. “You know if he hurts her- her Uncle’s won’t hold back. I’m pretty sure Liam’s spirit won’t either.”

“None of you will touch him. I’ll beat you all to it!” Providing that infamous cocky smirk, Drake shook his head- he hadn’t seen it painted on her face in what seemed like an eternity. Caressing her cheek, they both locked eyes.

“Of course you will... it’s good to see you smile.”

“I agree. Thank you. I should let you get back to your party.”

“I’m ready for bed, I can’t hack it anymore. I’m not a spring chicken anymore.” Standing up, he mimicked walking with an invisible walking stick- causing her to throw her head back laughing.

“No, you’re an old grumpy marshmallow now.”

“Queen bossy pants. Night, Brooks.” Turning to leave, it was a brief conversation- a conversation that everyone had wanted to start with all those months ago. Finally she had opened up, even if it wasn’t much. Hoping that this was the first move to gaining closure on Liam’s death.

“Drake, wait!”

“What?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Thank you for the talk.”

“No worries. You know where to find me or any of us for that matter. I love you, Ri.”

“I love you, too.”

****

Once Drake had left, she got under the duvet- making a quick phone call. As soon as the voicemail message began, tears ran down her cheek like a waterfall. Unable to stop.

Hello. You have reached Liam, but I am unavailable at the moment. Sorry for my beautiful wife, my Queen- giggling in the background. If you need me, leave a message and I’ll get back to you soon.

Even though she was crying, she still managed to let out a little laugh- this was his personal phone for his friends, but now it was a regular call she made on a daily basis.

“Hey, handsome. It’s me again. The giggling wife. I’ve actually laughed for the first time today, Drake the old man turned fifty. Of course he was drinking whiskey. I know I say this everytime I ring you, but I miss you so fucking much Li. I love you so much. My biggest regret was not telling you that the day you left us. So I’m making up for it now. Now it's too late to hold you 'Cause you've flown away. But that doesn’t stop my imagination from believing that you are here. Never had I imagined living without your smile, and I know you're shining down on me from heaven. I hope you and Hana are celebrating up there. I know eventually we'll be together. One sweet day. Until we meet again. I love you, my King.”

[calumcest]

i took a walk with my fame down memory lane (i never did find my way back) - chapter eight

[ao3]

this is the latest i’ve ever posted a chapter...but technically it still counts. as long as i havent slept its still monday and you dont know whether i live in california or not 

@tirednotflirting​ thank u for entertaining my insane little ideas and improving them this fic is truly nothing without you and @kaleidoscopeminds​ thank you for making my entire fucking week with that helpful little encouragement although i have to say its only monday so don’t get too gassed about that compliment. 

i said on ao3 that half of this was written to a specific song so here i’m going to reveal the other half was written to just be good to green by professor green which honestly? fucking slaps i can’t be lying to you on this fine monday evening/tuesday morning 

They have a few dates in the UK at the end of December, and Calum finds that his week or so away from his band has actually been a week too long. It almost made him forget the warmth that fizzles through his veins with the laughter that comes from Noel making contemptuous comments about Liam and Bonehead and Liam and Tony and Liam again, from Bonehead cheering loudly as Calum and the brothers groan and wince when they hear -and City have conceded yet another goal, this really is poor form- on the radio, from Liam slinging an arm around Calum in a bar in Glasgow and grinning madly at him, eyes lit up from the high of the show and the booze and the drugs, and shouting I fucking love you, Cal, over the sound of the shitty music. It makes Calum grin back, makes him press a sloppy kiss to Liam’s cheek, makes him giddy with the thoughts of how could I ever give this up? that rattle around what little of his mind the coke in his veins has left him. 

It’s good, though, because the week-and-a-half apart is all the breathing space they needed, so once they’ve all recovered from their frankly alarming post-New-Year’s hangovers, the first few weeks of January, which are precious weeks off, are spent cooped up in a rehearsal space, or down the pub, or lying on the floor of Noel’s flat, stoned out of his mind, or wrapped up in a bunch of sky-blue scarves screaming abuse at the away stand at Maine Road. 

Or, looking at houses in London. 

Calum had mentioned it to Liam in a carefully-casual way, biting the inside of his cheek to contain a smile as Liam’s bright blue eyes had lit up and he’d said, a little too enthusiastically, eeyar, y’know Kentish Town’s a right nice area? Bet you could find a place there, too.

“Have you got a place, then?” Calum had asked, and Liam had shaken his head. 

“Not yet,” he’d said. “Got some more viewings next week, though, if you fancy tagging along.” Calum had hummed, and nodded. 

“Might do,” he’d said. “What’re you looking at?” 

“Houses,” Liam had said immediately. “Big fuck-off houses. Mansions." Calum had snorted, and rolled his eyes. Typical. 

“Give us the number of your estate agent,” he’d said. “I’ll ring and see if they’ve got anything for me.” 

So Liam had called Noel and asked for the estate agent’s number, because he’d lost his address book again, and then Calum had rung the estate agent and told them vaguely what he was looking for - a place somewhere around Kentish Town, not too far from a pub if possible - asked to be put on the books, and been posted a few particulars. There had been a few places he’d been interested in, two houses and one flat, and with a little bit of wrangling he’d managed to get himself viewings on the same day that Liam had said he’d be going down, which is how they’ve ended up here.

They’ve seen both the houses that Calum had been considering, neither of which were quite right - one had a deceptively large garden, which Calum simply can’t be bothered to deal with, and the kitchen of the other one needed far too much work doing - and they’re in the second of Liam’s now, ambling around an airy, spacious living room. It’s a nice house, Calum thinks as he runs a finger over the mantelpiece above the fireplace, if a little big for his own taste. Liam, though, seems to be fucking loving it, craning his neck to look at the high ceilings and the sash windows, whatever the fuck those are. Calum had tuned out of whatever the fuck the estate agent’s droning on about approximately ten minutes ago, electing to simply wander around on the other side of the room, lost in his own thoughts. 

It’s going to be fucking weird, he thinks, living in London. Manchester’s home. It’s where he’s been for almost six years, where his life had gone from bland and mundane to the fucking rollercoaster it is now, where he'd settled in and grown into himself. It’s going to be fucking weird being away from it, not going to Maine Road on a Saturday afternoon or a Tuesday evening, not heading down to the pub round the corner from his house for a pint with Liam, not hopping on a bus to cross town to Noel’s flat. Somehow it feels even stranger than when he’d first found out he’d be going on tour, leaving Manchester and sleeping in a different city every night, because he’d still always known where his home was. Sydney hadn’t ever really felt like home, not in the way Manchester does, and it makes Calum’s skin prickle with a tiny bit of fear to think that he’s choosing to uproot himself again, choosing to displace himself entirely this time, on a strange leap of faith chasing his best friends down to London. 

Well, he thinks, glancing over at Liam again, and a warm wave of comfort washes over the prickling under his skin. At least he’ll have a little bit of home here with him. 

Almost like he knows he’s being watched, Liam turns on his heel and catches Calum’s eye.

“What d’you think?” he says, like they’re a couple, or something. Calum shrugs. He likes it well enough, but it’s not his money, is it?

“‘S your money,” he says. 

“Yeah, but what d’you think?” Calum shrugs again, casting his eyes back up at the huge bay windows opening out onto the street. He can imagine Liam here, sprawled out across a big sofa with ten empty bottles in front of him, TV blaring in the background, phone hanging off the hook. He’d probably have those NME covers of himself blown up and hung on the wall over there, maybe above the fireplace, might even get a vinyl of their album and stick that up on the wall behind the sofa- yeah, Calum can imagine Liam here. 

“I like it,” he says. “Think it suits you.” Liam beams at him. 

“Yeah?” he says, and turns back to the estate agent, who’s been hovering a little nervously in the doorway as Liam prodded around the brilliant white living room. “How much was this one, again?” 

“Five hundred and forty six thousand,” the estate agent says politely, and Liam nods thoughtfully, like that isn’t the most enormous sum of money Calum’s ever heard of. 

“D’you want to ring our accountant, maybe?” Calum says pointedly, and Liam shakes his head. 

“Seeing Noel tomorrow,” he says, and Calum hums. Fair enough. Noel’ll probably know the state of Liam’s finances better than their accountant, anyway. "Right, let's have a look at your little bedsit, then, eh?" Calum rolls his eyes, and shoots Liam a playful glare. 

"Get to fuck," he says, and Liam grins, following the estate agent out of the house. 

The flat Calum had liked the look of is literally around the corner from the house Liam’s keen on, and there’s a pub halfway between the two of them that Liam points out and stops outside of, peering in and asking the estate agent how much a pint costs there. 

“Two pound fifty?” he echoes in shock, when the estate agent informs him. “Who the fuck do they think they are?”

“You’re literally a fucking millionaire,” Calum reminds him, and Liam tears his gaze away from the window to glower at him. 

“It’s the fucking principle,” he says, but he slouches away from the pub, albeit not without throwing it one final glare. 

The flat’s on the ground floor of a huge house, one that looks like something Calum might expect Brett Anderson to live in, and he has half a mind to ask whether any other potential rival band members are living in the area before letting Liam loose in it, but decides he’s not going to play the role of Liam’s minder if he doesn’t have to. He, at least, isn’t bound to him by blood and double-helixes like some people, and he’s going to take full advantage of that. 

The estate agent’s saying something about excellent schools in the area as they walk in, and Calum just stares at her back, thinking do I fucking look like I’m about to have kids? I don’t even know how to boil an egg or change a lightbulb - or anything beyond playing bass and taking drugs, really. Liam doesn’t hold back his snort, and Calum throws him a glare over his shoulder but can’t hide the amused smile playing at his lips, which just encourages Liam, makes him say eeyar, Cal, could tuck your little kids Mary and Jane into bed right here, couldn't you? when they get into the smaller bedroom.

The flat’s not too big, but it’s definitely not small, either - two bedrooms, a living room, a bathroom and a toilet, and a kitchen, with a little patio at the back over the shared garden which, the estate agent assures him, is taken care of by the building managers. It’s exactly the right size, really - big enough that Calum feels like he’d have breathing space, even with the four noisy Mancunians that are inevitably going to be spreading themselves out across his new place like they’d been the ones to spend a few hundred thousand on it, but small enough that it wouldn’t feel empty, wouldn’t make him feel lonely if he were there on his own, and, more importantly, wouldn’t be a fucking ballache to clean. 

He looks down at the particulars he’d had the foresight to bring with him - or rather, that his mum had shoved in his hand before he’d left the house - and scans it for the price again. A hundred and ten thousand, alright. That’s still fucking extortionate, but after hearing the price of the place Liam’s thinking of it feels like a bargain, and he’s already got his mortgage in place thanks to the chivvying from his parents, so he turns to the estate agent when they get to the kitchen and says: “I’d like to make an offer at the asking price.” She brightens, and nods. 

“We have one more viewing on this property this afternoon, but I’ll get in touch with the seller as soon as I get back to the office and let him know,” she says, and Calum smiles politely at her, feeling incredibly out of his depth. Fucking hell, maybe he’s not ready for this. Maybe it’s too early to be living on his own; maybe he should have a transition period, move in with Liam, or something, rent something in Manchester. 

But, like he can sense it, Liam turns to him, and nods decisively. 

"This is your fucking place," he says, like it's obvious. "And I'll be right 'round the corner." 

So it's decided.

Buying a flat, it turns out, though, is a right fucking hassle.

It involves lawyers, which Calum hadn’t expected, and it involves a surveyor, which he’d never even heard of, and it involves his parents insisting on coming down to London to look at the property he’s chosen, like they can’t trust him to make an adult decision. 

(Well, Calum thinks, when Liam casually offers him a bump of coke in the pub the evening before they're due to go down to London. Maybe they’re right.) 

His mum thinks the kitchen is too small for entertaining, and Calum doesn’t have the heart to tell her that the kitchen probably won’t be used for anything other than storing alcohol for a good few years, and his dad thinks the shower could do with replacing, which Calum just nods at - he’s not sure how he’d go about doing that; call a plumber? A builder? He’ll figure something out - but they both nod, satisfied, when Calum’s finished the full tour and turns back to them expectantly. 

“How close did you say Liam would be, again?” his mum asks, too casually, and Calum can’t help but laugh as he leads them out. 

There’s no way it’ll all be done before they have to head back out on tour again, so Calum has to sign a bunch of documents authorising his parents to be informed about what stage of the buying process he's in, but the lawyer Noel had found for him assures him that everything will be done by the end of January when they’re back for a few days for the NME awards and Calum’s birthday. 

About a week and a half before the NME awards, Michael calls. 

“A little birdy tells me you’re buying a place in London,” is how he greets Calum when Calum picks up the phone after hearing the Calum, it’s Michael yelled up at him from the kitchen, and Calum can’t help but huff out a surprised laugh. 

“How the fuck d'you know that?” he says. 

“I’ve got my sources,” Michael says, and Calum can hear that he’s grinning. 

“You’re not spying on me, are you?” Calum says, a little suspiciously. 

"'Course not," Michael says breezily. "Can't speak for Damon, though. Y'know, this whole Blur-Oasis thing is really stepping up a notch with the NME awards around the corner." Calum can’t help but smile himself, grinning down at his lap. 

“Fuck off,” he says, and he feels comfortable saying it, and Michael laughs, and it all makes a strange warmth curl up and make a home for itself in the pit of his stomach. 

“Dave’s looking to move to Kentish Town,” Michael explains. “Went to an estate agent, who said it was surprising to see three members of Oasis and one member of Blur there in the space of a week.” 

“Those bastards,” Calum says evenly. “Thought we were paying for exclusive rights to their services. Pretty sure Liam would've made sure we had a verbal contract, or something; none of those Blur cunts allowed." Michael laughs again, and the sound goes straight to something deep in Calum, something that he reckons might be either his heart or soul but chooses to ignore because he can feel the threat of panic rising in his chest at the very thought of entertaining that idea. 

“What made you decide to move down, then?” Michael says, and Calum shrugs, even though Michael can’t see him. 

“Thought it was about time I moved out,” he says. “And- y’know. London’s sort of the place to be, if you’re in the music scene.” Michael hums. 

“Y’know Kentish Town’s right around the corner from Camden?” he says, a little too nonchalantly. “‘S where that fish and chip shop I took you to was.” Calum swallows. 

“Yeah, I know,” he says. He hesitates, and then adds, in an equally too-casual voice: “You’ll have to show me around the area.” 

“Might do,” Michael says lightly. “For a fee.” 

“I’m going to be skint after buying this place,” Calum tells him. "It'd be an act of charity." 

“Who said the fee was monetary?” Michael says, and Calum’s heart skips a beat. He clears his throat, and goes to say something, but can't. It doesn't matter, though, because Michael’s carrying on, a little hastily, like he’s picked up on Calum’s silence. “You could nick me a few of Noel’s songs. Damon’s really struggling for lyrics. Came into the rehearsal room yesterday after being stuck in traffic with a song that goes who maddest one on the M1?” He pauses, and then says: “It’s pretty good, though.” Calum can’t help but snort at that, heart beating a little too fast, even though Michael’s glossed over the awkward moment. Or maybe papered over it; Calum's never been great at telling the difference.

“I’m not looking to get murdered,” he says, and Michael sighs dramatically. “Plus, it’s not like Noel’s lyrics are any better.” 

“True,” Michael muses. “What’s that one about, fucking, Mr Soft?” Calum huffs out a laugh at that, leaning back on his bed. 

“Don’t remember a song about fucking Mr Soft,” he says, and Michael tuts, but Calum can hear the note of amusement in it. 

“Should’ve been that instead,” Michael says flippantly. “I reckon it would’ve been an improvement.” 

“Bit rich, coming from someone who’s got a song that half-consists of the word ‘parklife’,” Calum retorts, and Michael makes a noise of indignance. 

“That’s a fucking brilliant tune,” he says, and Calum can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Damon barely even sings on it,” Calum says. 

“Shouldn’t do, either, for what we had to pay Phil Daniels,” Michael remarks. “Damon’s obsessed with getting these fucking features on. D’you know we’ve got Ken Livingstone lined up for our next album?” Calum can’t help but laugh out loud at that, bright and surprised. 

“Ken Livingstone?” he echoes. “Like, Ken Livingstone?” 

“Yeah,” Michael says, and he sounds exasperated, but fond. “I don’t know what the fuck is going through Damon’s head most of the time, but it’s easier to just give him a pat on the head and go aww, Damon, that's a lovely idea, what a clever boy you are than to try and understand him. Don’t have the energy for that. And I’m still making money, aren’t I?” 

“If your house is anything to go by,” Calum says. 

“Hey,” Michael says, mock-serious. “Let’s not talk about my house. Nice flat you’re buying.” Calum has to concede there, with a grin. He’s got a point. 

“Does Damon call all the shots, then?” he asks, a little curious. He doesn’t actually know much about Blur’s dynamic - they’re nowhere near as transparent as Oasis are, and all he really knows is what he’s heard from Michael, which seems to be that they’re decent blokes and good friends, and what he’s picked up from the Oasis camp, which seems to be that they’re all Tories and that the jury’s still out on whether they’re the antichrist or whether that’s Liam. 

“What’s this, trying to infiltrate us?” Michael asks, but Calum can hear that he’s smiling. “He tries, but Graham won’t let him. We sort of step back and let their do their thing most of the time. Alex gets involved, sometimes, but I think Graham and Damon like the fighting.” Calum hums, not really sure what to say to that, besides sounds like Noel and Liam.

“You’d like Damon, I think,” Michael says, after a moment of silence. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Well, y’know. If your insane bandmates would let you.” 

“Yeah, well.” Calum shrugs, a little awkwardly, and casts his eyes back down at his lap, picking at his pyjama bottoms. Michael doesn’t say anything to that for a minute, just breathes down the phone line and lets the two of them simmer in a slightly-uncomfortable silence, and then he sighs. 

“I should go,” he says. Don’t, Calum wants to say, but he doesn’t have a good enough reason to keep Michael on the line. Michael pauses, like maybe he’d been waiting for Calum to ask him not to go, and then sighs again. “Alright, well. I’ll see you at the NME awards, I guess.” Calum’s stomach twists. Shit. He’d forgotten Blur were going to be there. 

“Yeah,” Calum says. “Yeah, we’ll be there. Don’t think you’ll be able to miss us, the number of awards we’ve been nominated for.” Michael laughs at that, and it’s soft, but it’s a little wistful. Maybe Calum should have asked him to stay. Maybe he didn’t need a good enough reason. Maybe just wanting him to would have been reason enough. It’s too late now, though, because Michael’s saying I don’t think anyone within a six mile radius of Liam can miss him, and Calum huffs out another laugh, but the smile accompanying it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“I’ll see you then,” he says, and then hesitates, and adds: “I mean-”

“I know,” Michael says quickly, and Calum’s grateful for it. “I promise not to even look in your direction all night.” Calum snorts. 

“What’re you going to do when we’re up on stage collecting all the awards we’ve beaten you to?" 

“Go to the loo,” Michael says immediately, and this time, the smile does reach Calum’s eyes. 

“You’ll be up and down like a fucking yo-yo,” Calum says. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure, given the number of awards we’re up for,” Michael says, and it’s smooth and cocky, confident without being arrogant, and it sends something electric charging through Calum, knocking the breath out of his lungs and making his vision blur a little around the edges for a moment. What the fuck is that? 

“Guess we’ll have to wait and see,” Calum manages to get out, proud of and relieved at how light and even his voice sounds. 

“Guess we will.” Michael’s voice is light and amused, but that searing edge of confidence is still there, and Calum has to swallow, mouth suddenly dry. “I’ll see you there.” 

“You will.” He hears Michael breathing for a moment longer, and then there’s a click, and he’s gone, leaving Calum sitting in bed, staring at the wall opposite him, mind finally kicking into gear and helpfully offering him an explanation for the way his heart’s racing in his chest and his breath coming out a little shorter and shallower than before. 

Arousal. 

 -------

 They have a show in Hollywood on the twenty-second, which means Noel ramps up rehearsals for the week before they go, probably mostly because he just loves to wield power over them all. Calum doesn’t really mind, though, enjoys the way that Liam and Noel snipe at each other, the way Bonehead grumbles about needing to re-tune his guitar again because he can’t be bothered to restring it, the way that they all roll their eyes at Tony when he fucks up the rhythm for Supersonic again in the first few bars. 

Well, actually, he’s not enjoying that so much. 

See, he knows Tony’s not the best drummer, the same way he knows that Noel’s far from the best guitarist and he’s not the best bassist. They’re all getting there, though - Calum can hear how much better he sounds than even half a year ago - except for Tony. Tony’s not got any better, doesn’t even seem to care enough to try, content to get by with what he’s got away with doing so far and then go down to the pub for a pint or two and ring his missus when he gets back to the hotel, but it’s not good enough anymore. It might have worked when they were fighting tooth and nail to get on a bill, but now, when they’re selling out bigger and bigger venues, when they’re on a six-album contract and they’re in the running to be the biggest fucking band in Britain, it’s not enough. 

The tension’s been mounting for a while, the exasperated looks Noel throws in Tony’s direction turning to scornful, to ugly, twisted lips and dark, furrowed brows, but so far, no one’s said anything. Liam might snipe at him a little more, might seek him out to get out his pent-up anger when Noel’s tired of fighting with him, and Noel might snap at him faster, might say Jesus, you’re fucking incompetent with absolutely no shred of fond exasperation, but no one’s said anything. It’s only a matter of time, though, Calum thinks, as he watches Tony falter on the beat again and Noel turn around, fingers stilling on the strings, shoot him a furious look and say d’you feel up to doing your fucking job today, or what? Should I do it myself? They’re going to have to address it at some point. 

Not now, though. Now, they’re flying to America again, and Calum’s trying to get Liam to go to sleep on the flight instead of demanding peanuts from the poor air hostesses every two minutes, and Noel’s turning around in his seat and saying stop kicking me, you dick to Bonehead, who just shrugs and kicks harder, and Tony’s pretending to nap across the aisle. Everything’s in its strange, fragile balance, and none of them want to be the first to upset it. 

The show in Hollywood goes well enough - which is measured by the fact that Noel only had ten minutes of criticisms to hand out, rather than the usual twenty - and then they’re flying back to the UK, drugged-up and exhausted from jumping back and forth across timezones, being ushered into a hotel in London and told you’ve got a day off, and the NME awards in the evening. That’s a human evening, Bonehead, not fucking midnight. Calum’s sharing with Liam that day - or is it night, he can’t fucking tell anymore - and they just fall right into bed and sleep for sixteen hours, only waking up at five in the afternoon when someone hammers on their door and shouts Noel says to wake you up, and to tell you that you’re lazy cunts. Liam rolls over, and blinks blearily at Calum. 

“Time’s it?” he mumbles, and Calum squints at the bright red numbers on the alarm clock balanced precariously on the edge of his bedside table. 

“Five,” he says. Liam groans, and rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling. 

“Fucking Noel,” he says. “Don’t even have to leave for another hour. Prick just wants to torture me.” 

“Probably,” Calum agrees, because that sounds like Noel. Liam groans again, rubs at his eyes, and then pushes himself up on his elbows, looking back over at Calum. 

“Did we raid the minibar last night?” he asks, and Calum thinks for a moment, and then shakes his head. Liam smiles, satisfied, and swings his legs out of bed, stretching and yawning as he gets to his feet. 

“Perfect,” he says, heading straight for the little fridge under the desk. “Noel can pay for these, then.” Calum just rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning when Liam winks at him over his shoulder and tosses him a little bottle of vodka. 

They drink the entire minibar between them, and by the time they’re heading out for the car that’s waiting to pick them up, Calum’s laughing at everything Liam’s saying, skin pleasantly warm and tingling, which is just encouraging Liam to say stupider and stupider things and gesticulate more and more wildly. Usually, Noel would nip that right in the bud, but he’s a little pink-cheeked himself, just laughs along at Liam’s antics and the weird little stories he tells on the journey to the venue. 

It’s fucking packed when they get there, and Calum’s almost blinded when a few cameras go off in his face, and he barely has time to think brilliant, bet I look fucking great in those before someone’s tugging on his sleeve and pulling him up the steps and inside. He’s still blinking away the blue-green-purple behind his eyes as he stumbles into the room, gets ushered to a table with the rest of them, and twists around in his chair, trying to drink in the rest of the room. 

It’s fucking packed, and it’s full of people Calum recognises from festivals and from magazines and newspapers - Elastica, Radiohead, Suede, Pulp - but he’s only really looking for one band. He’s trying to do it as subtly as possible, though, knows he doesn’t have a lot of time to look before Noel notices and gets shirty about it, but can’t find them anywhere in the crowd of people as people get up and sit down and lean around their table to talk to someone at another table. He turns back to his own band, tuning into the conversation that’s going on about whether or not they’d actually been nominated for Best Single; he'll just look for Michael the next time the Gallaghers have gone to take whatever it is they're on tonight.

There’s drink on the table, and there’s drugs in Noel and Liam’s pockets, and by the time the ceremony’s begun they’re all looking very fucking merry and pleased with themselves. The brothers actually manage to behave themselves, though, sitting back quietly as the first award - Best LP - is introduced. 

Of fucking course, it’s Blur. 

They watch as Blur traipse to the stage to a round of polite applause, looking very relaxed and pleased with themselves, coming from somewhere against the wall to the far left of the Oasis table, and Calum feels his heart start to speed up as he spots Michael at the back of the group, saying something to Graham with a smile on his face that makes Graham laugh too as they follow in Damon, Dave and Alex’s wake. 

Damon leans into the microphone, saying something about thank you to the fans, blah blah blah, but Calum’s just staring at Michael, willing him to catch his eye. Michael’s scanning the crowd in a way that Calum could mistake for idle if he didn’t see the slight narrowing of his eyes, the slight downturn of his lips. He’s looking at the back, then at the left, then somewhere around the middle, and then finally his eyes fall on Calum’s table, and his lips curve upwards ever-so-slightly. 

And then, like Noel and Liam aren’t sat right fucking there, he winks. 

Calum knows what he’s saying. First award goes to me, eh? Fucking cocky little shit, he thinks, through the haze of alcohol, but it makes his next intake of breath a little sharper all the same. 

“Pricks,” Liam says derisively, reaching for another beer. Calum hums his agreement, but his eyes don’t leave Michael, who’s now trying to suppress a fully-fledged smile. Calum shakes his head, almost imperceptibly, and reaches for his own beer, just for something to put between himself and Michael. 

Damon finishes his speech, thank you to their management, blah blah blah, and then they’re heading back off the stage, and Michael breaks his eye contact with Calum easily, like it’s nothing, tossing another nonchalant comment that Calum can’t make out in Damon’s direction. It sort of stings, seeing how easily Michael can act like it's nothing, but it’s also an odd relief, because Calum’s all too aware of the two fuckers he’s sat between. 

He’s downed another beer by the time the next award’s being announced - Best Single - and it looks like they have indeed been nominated for it, because they win it. 

“Fucking get in,” Liam crows, getting to his feet, and Noel doesn’t even have it in him to do anything but cuff him upside the head fondly as they head for the stage. 

“None of you cunts deserve this,” he says, as they jog up the steps. “Least of all you.” He directs the last part at Tony, but unlike the first half of his sentence, it’s got an edge of venom to it, a bit of Noel’s cruel streak leaking through. Calum shoots Noel a sharp look as they head for the podium, because tonight is not the fucking night, and shakes his head. 

“Don’t be a cunt,” he says, and Noel just shrugs, turning away from him to accept their award and then stepping over to lean into the microphone. Liam’s there too, quick as a fucking flash, not willing to let Noel have any more than about forty percent of the limelight, and Calum just rolls his eyes and steps back, deciding to just let the fucking shitshow happen. He’s got other things to think about, anyway - Blur had come from his left when he’d been sat down, so they should be sat somewhere on what’s now his right, and he frowns as he scans the room, squinting into the bright stage lights as he tries to make out the all-too familiar shape of Michael sat at a table.

He actually spots Damon before he spots Michael, and he feels an odd stab of excited anticipation make his heart lurch as his eyes slide around the table, like he’s a fucking fifteen year old with a crush again. There’s Graham, Dave, some woman he doesn’t know, Alex- 

Luke.

Fucking hell. 

He’d completely forgotten, somehow, that Luke - and Ashton, who’s sat right next to him - were going to be here. It makes his stomach tighten, seeing the two of them again in this unfamiliar context, makes him blink like they’re going to fucking disappear if he tries hard enough. Luke’s hair is long, now, curly like it always used to be after they’d been swimming at Bondi Beach, and he’s broad as fuck, fills out the shirt he’s wearing in a way that would probably make Calum’s mouth water if it were anyone other than Luke. Ashton looks older, too, has his sleeves rolled up far enough to expose very muscled arms, hair dyed black and one slightly-curled strand falling into his eyes. He’s got his hands in front of him, clasped together and elbows on the table, and Luke’s leaning back in his seat, one arm around the back of Ashton’s chair, leaning into him a little. They look the same, and they look so different.

Calum doesn’t even realise Liam and Noel are done with their antics until Bonehead shoves at him with his shoulder and inclines his head with a frown, signalling get off the fucking stage, you prat. It only just occurs to his alcohol-addled mind to flick a quick glance over at Michael, who’s grinning up at him easily, even looking a little proud, and it makes Calum’s already-leaden stomach flip somehow, in a way that he thinks might be pleasant but isn’t entirely sure about. 

He follows the rest of his band off the stage in a daze, almost trips over his own feet at least four times on his way back to the table, drawing enough attention to himself that Liam throws him a frown as they sit down, concern for Calum cutting through all the drink and drugs in his veins. 

“What’s up with you?” he asks, managing to make it sound hostile somehow. Calum blinks at him. 

He can say it, can’t he? It’s not like they’ve got any shit with Luke and Ashton. Well, Noel probably will on principle, but anyone who isn’t the most vindictive person on the planet shouldn’t have. 

“I, uh,” he says, and clears his throat as he realises Noel’s tuned into the conversation too, even though he’s still facing the stage, sitting far too still as he listens to what Calum has to say. “I saw the Blur table. Michael’s brought two of my best mates from Sydney.” 

“Oh,” Liam says, sounding a little disappointed, like he’d been expecting something juicier than that. “D’you wanna go and say hi?” That gets Noel to turn around, to shoot Liam a furious glare. 

“Are you insane?” he demands. 

“What?” Liam says defensively. “They’re his mates.” 

“They’re with Michael.”

“So? They’re still Calum’s mates.” 

“They’re with Blur.” Liam scoffs. 

“Don’t be so fucking unreasonable,” he says, raising his voice a little to be heard over the applause as the next award is announced - Calum has no idea what it is, but Blur are receiving it again. Noel laughs incredulously, and his eyes are narrowed and cold, and Calum thinks for fuck’s sake, not again. 

“I’m being fucking unreasonable?” Noel says. 

“Yeah, you fucking are,” Liam says stubbornly. “What the fuck have they done? They’re not in Blur, are they?” 

“They’re-” Noel cuts himself off, throwing his hands up in the air, like the fact that Liam’s not on his side on this is beyond him. Liam throws him one last look, and then turns back to Calum. 

“D’you want to say hi?” he asks again, and Calum hesitates. He’s not really sure. 

“Jesus, why don’t you ask him if he wants to fuck Mike again too, while he’s at it?” Noel says scornfully, which makes Liam’s eyes flash with anger for a moment, and he rounds on Noel again. 

“Shut the fuck up,” he says. “Just fucking leave it.” 

“Leave it?” Noel echoes. “Leave-” 

“Stop it," Liam says, something uncharacteristically firm and serious to his tone. "You’re making yourself too obvious.” That makes Noel’s mouth snap shut, but his jaw muscles continue to work furiously as he glowers at Liam, something so irate in his expression that Calum can’t even read it. He doesn’t want to, anyway, not when he sees the defiant set of Liam’s jaw and realises they’re having one of those brotherly we know something you don’t know moments, sees the silent conversation occurring between the two of them and just waits it out, waits for one of them to snap. It’s Noel this time, folding his arms and sitting back in his chair, still glaring at Liam, but Liam seems to know what he means by that, because he throws Noel one final look that looks almost like those I’m disappointed in you looks that Noel so often sends Liam, and turns back to Calum again. 

“Let’s go over,” he says. 

“Not now,” Noel says sternly. Nothing to do with Blur, though; this is Noel’s business voice. “We’re in the middle of a fucking awards ceremony.” 

“So?” Liam says, with a carefree shrug. 

“No.” Liam looks like he wants to argue for a moment, but Noel holds his gaze, and eventually Liam sighs and slumps back in his seat. 

“Fine,” he says sullenly, but before Noel has time to say something cutting in response, everyone around them is jumping to their feet and cheering. 

“What?” Calum says to Bonehead, who throws him a funny look. 

“Best new band,” he says, and Calum’s heart clenches, but in a way that he definitely likes. 

Fucking hell, he thinks, as he gets to his feet and grins broadly at Noel, who grins back, the previous conversation completely forgotten. Well, that makes him two-for-two with Michael, doesn't it?

 -------

 Oasis end up winning three awards, eclipsed only by Blur, who take home five. Liam claims that they win four, though, because Alan wins the Godlike Genius award, and he’s basically Oasis, innit? Oh, fuck off, Noel, you’re not Oasis. If anything, right, I’m Oasis, ‘cause- and then Calum tunes out. 

Someone mentions something about an afterparty, because of course they do, and everyone agrees enthusiastically. They’re all getting to their feet when Liam turns to Calum with a look of surprise on his face, like he’s just remembered something. 

“Your mates,” he says, and Calum swallows. His mates. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Uh- yeah. I might-” he cuts himself off, but Liam gets it, and nods. 

“Want me to come over with you?” he says, and Calum hesitates. No, because I’m not sure I can handle the guilt of being around you and Michael at the same time is thrown up at him by his mind, but his heart says yes, please. I’m scared. I need you there. 

“Can you refrain from calling them all cunts for five minutes?” Calum says, because he can’t say please, and Liam grins, a sparkle in his eyes. 

“Guess we’ll find out,” he says cheerily, and skirts around the edge of the table, making a beeline for the table Blur are gathered around on the other side of the room, lingering and laughing at something Michael’s saying with big, grand hand gestures. He can feel Noel’s eyes on the two of them as he jogs to catch up with Liam, who strides like a fucking maniac despite the fact Calum’s got a good three or four inches on him, but he doesn’t say or do anything. That’s almost more dangerous, though, Calum thinks, because Noel never forgets, just files the information away to act upon later. He doesn’t have time to worry about it, though, because the speed with which Liam’s powering towards the table means they’re there before Calum’s really realised they’ve crossed the room, the band and the other assorted people that Calum doesn’t know blinking at them curiously. Well, blinking at Liam curiously, Calum thinks, stomach bottoming out. They all know about him and Michael talking again, don’t they? Do they know that Liam doesn’t know? Do Calum’s fucking rivals know how Calum’s betraying his own best friend? 

“Who’re you?” Liam says to Luke and Ashton, ever the fucking diplomat. “Cal says you’re his mates from Sydney.” The two of them blink at Liam, clearly not entirely sure what to make of him or the situation, until Ashton clears his throat. 

“Uh, yeah,” he says, and Calum’s next exhale comes out a little shaky at the sound of his voice. It’s so fucking familiar, has the same intonation and confidence it’s always had, and the same thick Australian accent that both he and Michael have lost along the way.  

“I’m Liam,” Liam says, completely oblivious to the entire group of people staring at him like he’s absolutely insane. Well, Calum supposes, he must be used to that. Pretty much everyone stares at Liam like he’s insane, most of the time. 

“Oh,” Ashton says, and shoots Michael a look, like he’s not sure what to do. “I mean. We know.” He hesitates, and then adds: “We really like your album.” Liam grins. 

“‘Course you do,” he says breezily. “It’s fucking brilliant.” 

“We’ll see you at the party, Mike, yeah?” Damon says, and throws Michael a pointed look. Michael just shrugs, and Damon looks at the rest of the table, who all kick themselves into gear and start slowly ambling away from the table as they shrug their coats on, mumbling to each other too quietly for Calum to hear. Damon’s the last to go, tossing Liam an easy smile, a glint in his eyes.

“Nice to see you again,” he says. 

“Fuck off,” Liam says, not even bothering to look away from Ashton, and Damon’s lips just twitch in an amused smile as he catches Michael’s eye, who rolls his eyes at him and shoos him away. He goes, though, turns on his heel and jogs to catch up with Graham, who’s been loitering a few tables away, seemingly waiting for him, and Liam leans forwards, rests his elbows on the vacant seat in front of him and puts his chin in his hands. 

“Who’re you, then?” he asks again. 

“I’m Ashton,” Ashton says. 

“I’m Luke,” Luke says, and his voice is deeper than Calum remembers. 

“Right,” Liam says, and then glances at Michael. “Are you gonna fuck off, or what?” 

“Me?” Michael says. “No, I’m alright.” Liam narrows his eyes at him, and Calum watches a flash of amusement cross Michael’s face before he schools his features into something convincingly solemn again. 

“Hey, Cal,” Ashton says, before Liam has the chance to tell Michael to get to fuck, or whatever, and Calum tears his gaze away from Michael to meet Ashton’s eyes. 

“Hi,” Calum says, throat suddenly dry. He clears his throat, and tries again. “How’re you?” Ashton blinks at him. 

“Good,” he says, “we’re good, yeah.” He glances at Luke, as if to anchor himself, and it makes Calum’s heart ache, makes memories of Luke doing the same to Ashton five, six, seven years ago bubble up in his mind. 

“Michael says you’re a teacher now,” Calum says, just for something to say, wanting to cry at the awkwardness of the atmosphere. It seems to be the right thing to say, though, because it makes Ashton’s lips hitch up in a smile, something warm reaching his eyes. 

“Yeah,” Ashton says. “Yeah, I teach RE.” Calum smiles at that, and he can’t help but glance over at Michael, thinking about their conversation a few weeks ago. Michael’s looking at him too, and their eyes lock for a split second, held together by a private memory, before Calum breaks it to look over at Ashton again. 

“Could’ve guessed that,” he says, and Ashton’s smile turns into a grin, something like relief tingeing it, like he hadn’t been quite sure how Calum was going to react to him. It emboldens Calum to add: “You and your fucking philosophy.” 

“Hey,” Ashton protests, but he’s still smiling. “Not all of us are cut out to be rockstars.” 

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Michael says, and Calum remembers. 

“Oh, hey, d’you still play drums?” he asks, and Ashton wrinkles his nose. 

“‘Course he does,” Michael says. 

“Well, y’know-” Ashton starts cagily, but Michael interrupts him with a scoff.

“Oh, shut up,” he says in exasperation, rolling his eyes, but it’s utterly fond. “He’s the fucking man of the scene in Sydney.” 

“You’re in a band?” Trust Liam to be suddenly interested. 

“I- well, I’m in a few-” 

“You’re in a few?” Liam frowns, and pauses, before asking: “Are you really fucking good, or really fucking shite?” 

“Really fucking good,” Michael puts in, and Liam shoots him a glare. 

“Did I ask you?” He doesn’t bother waiting for a response, though, just rounds on Luke, and asks, blunt as fucking anything: “D’you talk?” Luke’s eyes widen, and he looks so much like that seventeen-year-old that Calum had left behind that it makes Calum’s head spin for a moment. 

“Don’t be a cunt,” Calum tells Liam sharply, who turns enough to throw Calum a look over his shoulder. 

“Just asking a fucking question,” he says, but it’s grumpy, which means he’s going to relent. 

“Michael says you’re a pilot,” Calum says, to try and ease the tension, and Luke’s eyes flit to him. 

“Yeah,” he says. 

“That’s pretty cool,” Calum says, and Luke hesitates, and then smiles. 

“Coming from you,” he says, and Calum grins back. 

“International rockstar’s a pretty good job,” he agrees, and Luke’s smile turns into a full-blown grin too. 

“Is that what you write down on visas?” he says, and Calum snorts. 

“I don’t, but this prick does,” he says, nodding at Liam, who just smiles inanely. 

“Not gonna lie to the authorities, am I?” he says, and Luke, Ashton and Michael all laugh, and it’s real. It’s not forced, it’s not polite, it’s real and amused and warm, and Calum thinks he might have ascended to another fucking plane of existence, seeing his two best friends from Sydney, his best friend now, and his- well, whatever the fuck Michael is, all getting on, if only for a moment. 

It hurts, though, because he thinks this is what it could be. This is what I could have, if Noel and Liam weren’t such fucking cunts. 

“Right, are you done?” Liam says, straightening up again. “We’ve got drugs to take.” Michael rolls his eyes, and Luke and Ashton look a little startled, and Calum thinks oh, fucking hell, but he sighs, and steps back. 

“We’re in the UK ‘til Saturday,” Ashton says. “We, uh. It’d be nice to see you. If you have time?” Calum blinks at him. Fucking hell, he doesn’t know his own schedule; he just jumps when Noel tells him to. 

“I, uh,” he says, but Liam speaks for him. 

“Could do Friday,” he says. “If you can come to Manchester.” Ashton glances at Luke, who shrugs. 

“I mean- yeah, sure,” he says, and Liam nods, satisfied. 

“Seven at the Vic on Burnage Road,” he says. 

“Is this an open invitation?” Michael asks mildly, and Liam glares at him. 

“Not to you,” he snaps, and puts his hands in his pockets. “Right, well. Nice to meet you. Me and Calum’ve got toilet lids to be getting to know. See you Friday.” Calum just blinks, not entirely sure what’s just happened, watching as Liam slopes away. 

“Uh,” he says intelligently. “Sorry about him.” 

“He’s…” Luke trails off, and Calum can’t help but huff out a laugh. 

“Yeah, he is,” he says, but he can’t hide the fondness and pride in his voice. “I- sorry, I really should- Noel’s-” 

“No, no, don’t worry,” Ashton says. “We’ll see you on Friday.” Luke’s still watching Liam, who’s now hovering in the door and throwing Calum an impatient glance, apprehension etched on his features.

“Will he be there?” he asks.

“I- uh. Seems like it.” Which is fucking insane. 

“Right.” Luke doesn’t sound too happy about that, but Ashton throws him a stern look, and he just sighs and then smiles at Calum. “See you on Friday, then.” 

“See you,” Calum echoes, and then throws Michael a glance. “I’ll-” 

“Yeah,” Michael says quickly, so Calum won’t have to say it. “Don’t worry. I know.” He smiles, and he means it, and Calum wants to cry. He doesn’t deserve Michael. 

He turns on his heel and jogs to the door, still trying to process what the fuck’s just happened. It must be written all over his face, because Liam frowns at him when he gets to the door, and then squares himself, looking a little hostile.

“What?” Liam says defensively,. “They’re your mates, aren’t they?” 

“Well, yeah, but-” 

“And they’re not in Blur.” Calum hesitates. 

“You don’t have to,” he says, and Liam shrugs. 

“Yeah, I know,” he says easily, pushing open the door to the venue. There are no photographers outside, now, just a few wannabe groupies hanging around and a couple of cars still waiting to ferry people from the venue to their hotels or the afterparty. It’s one of those that Liam opens the door to, clambers into without holding the door open, meaning it almost shuts on Calum as he follows, just about managing to get his leg in without the door slamming on it. “But they were important to you, weren’t they?” 

“Well- I mean, yeah, but-”

“That’s that, then.” He blinks steadfastly out of the window as Calum stares at him for a moment, drunk brain trying to understand what’s going on, what Liam's doing for him, and why he's doing it.

God, he thinks, as the familiar guilt settles deep in his veins again. He doesn’t deserve Michael, and he doesn’t deserve Liam, and neither of them deserve what Calum's doing to them.

taglist: @callmeboatboy @sadistmichael @clumsyclifford @angel-cal @tirednotflirting @cthofficial @tigerteeff @haikucal @queer-5sos @i-am-wierd-always @stupidfuckimgspam @bloodyoathcal @pixiegrl @pxrxmoore @currentlyupcalsass @clumthood @another-lonely-heart @calumscalm @casually-fallen

if you’d like to be added to my taglist pls fill in this form!

[pinkykitten]

I was tagged by @writing-with-melon I hope my answers aren’t complete waste or if time and if so I’m sorry and I love you

Rules: Answer ten 10 questions, ask 10, and tag 10 people

1. What song automatically plays in your head when you look out the window on a long drive? 

i dont really have an answer for this. i think i just automatically think about any song ive been listening to recently or any song that has been stuck in my head. 

2.  Do you have some snacks nearby when you write?

well i live in a two story house so the kitchen is downstairs and im usually lazy busy so since i have a mini fridge upstairs i just usually get water to drink while im writing. its kinda hard to eat and write cuz i loose focus really easily so when i am writing i am writing! i am in the zone! but if i am a little hungry ill usually snack on candy like chocolate kinder joys i love them but they r so expensive or snack on chips but i get like salt on my fingers or i like cheetos so cheetos dust and that just gets everywhere and later my hands and keyboard kinda smell like fart. 3. What do you do to combat creative burnout?

so burnout happens to me a lot so to get inspiration i either read other stories or fanfics which gets my head gears turning or i admire a piece of art or photography or a song. whats so unique and satisfying with writing you can explore and go anywhere with it, hehehe erotic if you know what i mean lol jk there are no barriers with writing just your imagination. there is inspiration any where you go and id advise to never stop writing. even if its a few short sentences or paragraphs about anything even bird poop its still progression and your mind is working and your searching for words like its all good for you bby.  4. Do you use (or like to use) prompts? 

i do ill put the link here. im thinking of changing it though to do something different. 

5. What is your favorite place to write?

lol boring, i know but my room. my room is really bright in the mornings and comfortable and chill and i have a candle of the pandora ride in disney that smells like the ride so its all good and relaxing and super peaceful plus i have a picture of myself the age of like 9 on my desk idk why but it encourages me and makes me focus to make sure i never get that cringy again. 

6. What is a hobby or yous that you usually don’t talk about?

well i like working out HAHAHAHAHA jk that was a joke...get it...cuz i much rather be eatingokillstop. but i really like to draw which i have a art page you can see it if you click here pls look at my failed attempts to be hip and cool with the cool kids and being artsy fartsy. another hobby is i really like to do makeup and nail art, nail art is really tough guys no joke if you do it like you got wizard powers are something. maybe its bc my nails are shorter than pete davidson and ariana grande’s relationship, alright im trying to stop i swear!

7. Do you play an instrument? Which one?

no i wish though. i always wanted to learn to either play the piano or electric guitar cuz H.E.R looks so cool doing it. 

8. How do you feel about your handwriting?

it sucks dont even try me. my sister can barely read it like no wonder nobody wants to steal my signature heck they can’t even read it!

9. Can you tell us of a story that marked your development as a person? As a writer?

ok sit back guys, sniff a nice amount of crack and get ready for the most cringy moment of my life but also a time when i knew i was meant to be *inhale* a fanfic writer. 

so it was elementary school, i think 3rd grade and for my writing assignment we were given a prompt of idk what the heck tbh i think it was like be outside the box and im like ok imma nail this cuz im a weird child and yeah so i got my papers and pencil and i went TO TOWN on this paper. so i wrote two stories. one short story with a picture to go with it and one long story that yeah i buried years ago. so my first story was about a farmer was about that farming life. he had chickens and dairy. so i cant remember if the cheese was spoiled but doesnt matter. anywho these cheese and a chicken were alive like they could talk in the story and i gave them faces, yikes. but the whole story was the farmer was a b*tch and he was trying to eat the chicken and cheese so they hatched a plan to get away from the farmer. they did it successfully and they ran away. yay happy ending my teacher actually liked that one me too and my school mates were thinking what they heck is this girl on i made a story about how me and justin bieber made cookies for Christmas you know. so then my other story i was more proud of this one cuz it was a tone of paper, sorry trees, and this story was about how a female hippo (girl i was all about plus size and thicker girls and no body shaming) and an male ostrich were kidnapped from their own habitats and taken to become circus animals. failed version of Madagascar hey mine was before the circus movie OK THEY STOLE IT FROM MEEEEE. so they get taken and are treated to harsh punishment and the animals can talk and i think its in the point of view of the male ostrich guy thing. they are in the circus and they start to have this relationship happening. love starts blossoming its all good. im happy with this cuz i believed in love at age of 8. they find a way thru a kick butt scene of the animals escaping and the hippo and ostrich are so in love that they run away together and they have half hippo half ostrich babies and i think i named the species  hipstrich or like ostppo idk but i was so proud of this story and when my teacher read it she was worried about me lol i think she thought i might like mate these two animals like secretly idk but she was like it was ok and i was like what this is frickin William Shakespeare writing or like F. Scott Fitzgerald writing. nevertheless it taught me a lesson that nobody else needs to like what im writing the main point and only thing that matters is if your proud of it and you like it and i really did. i will remember that story forever and thats what made me want to be a writer. lol sorry that was a lot. 

10. @emdop I’m going to use this great question: Explain one of your WIPs in the most ridiculous way possible. 

wellllll im working on my peaky blinders oc story its a lot of drugs money killing weapons jewelry rich profanities like its the show but written from my stubby hands so my oc and whatever its great and so excited to show it to you guys. 

MY QUESTIONS:

1. WHAT MADE YOU WANT TO START TUMBLR?

2. IF YOU COULD CHANGE ANYTHING OF THIS WORLD, WHAT WOULD IT BE?

3. WHAT QUALITY IS IMPORTANT TO YOU?

4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE OUTFIT?

5. WHAT MAKES YOU SMILE?

6. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SONG IN THE WHOLE WORLD?

7. IF YOU COULD VISIT A PLACE, WHERE WOULD IT BE?

8. WHAT SHOW OR MOVIE UNIVERSE WOULD YOU WANT TO BE IN?

9. WHAT IS THE SCARIEST MOMENT OF YOUR LIFE?

10. WHAT DO YOU WANT MORE IN THIS WORLD THAN ANYTHING ELSE?

im tagging: @thatlittlered, @ardentmuse, @acciosnapes, @lotsoffandomimagines, @collecting-stories, @blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms, @naughtyneganjdm, @lenahellgizibe and two random followers @spiritsent, @sucker-for-my-fandoms

i was tagged by @writing-with-melon again ty btw, ps i felt so much pressure lol jk 😊

Rules: Answer 5 questions, Ask 5 questions, Tag 5 people.

1. What is your favorite book?

fifty shades of grey hahaha naw my favorite book is obv you all know this is series of unfortunate events but i never usually cry period and i never cry for books ever so when i read mrs. tom thumb by melanie benjamin, its the part when her sister minnie dies i cried so hard idk it was just emotional the wording the way she described her pain it was so beautiful written yet so sad and that was just amazing to me cuz im like this book made me feel things and im like wow i would love to write a book one day and make someone feel something whether it be sadness anger happiness annoyance anything they are having an emotion and that is super powerful to do that with just words. pls go check out that book its a good read. also im a fan of the greatest showman so i really enjoyed it. there are many other books tho that i thoroughly enjoy so much. 

2. What piece that you’ve written are you most proud of?

oh my god ive always wanted to be asked this question hands down i am always proud of my platonic gender neutral tony stark fic called in·con·sol·a·ble window to me i wrote it so sad and i was feeling like depressed lol when i saw peter die in infinity war like i didnt know what to do with my life tbh but im so glad that @impetrichorny requested it tysm i just like how its not based on romance or fluff or happiness it is based on when you lose someone the nightmares and sadness you go through and that there is nothing nobody can do about it except just be there for that person so i really like writing angst and something that was out of the box. ive been thinking tho of doing a part two since the fate of all the characters has changed after endgame. who knows tho. 

3. What is the last song that inspired you? 

well for art it would have to good news by mac miller when i did that kobe bryant memorial on my art page. i dont want to give it away though but ill just say some very powerful womens music inspired my oc writing and making. 

4. How do you feel about letting people read what you write?

at first i was scared cuz i thought i wrote like trash which that feeling kinda doesnt go away like some days i feel that way others i feel confident or it depends on the request it just depends but anyways i was always insecure about my writing so when i started writing it was more like lets see how this goes if not ill delete the whole page. im glad to say it went great but in the begging it was hard cuz i kept putting myself down but i learned to accept or just understand that you keep learning with writing you always learn knew things with writing how you can explain something better or you words get more intricate and people see the improvement and you do too thats why i applaud those who dont speak english that english isnt their first language. you are doing a tremendous job and keep practicing cuz you’re gonna make it to the top. ive also learned that some days are not my days and you can take time off when youre not feeling it when you have writers block. just recollect your juices sip some tea go to the beach relax your mind a little and take as long as you need to come back and give it your all. also comments and reblogs and likes a follows those meant so much to me and encouraged me. thats why i cant express it enough how much all those mean to writers, artist, photographers, anybody who is truly trying their hard in this area of social media. its makes a person happy smile and confident in their writing but first train your mind into loving what you make not what others thing. you have to be happy with the outcome that is what truly matters and what makes your writing the best. look at me getting philosophical. 

5. Do you get distracted easily? If yes with what?

yes and with porn haha i get distracted easily like very easily homeschooling was really tough for me. music distracts me, netflix, the urge to watch david dobrik or unus annus or buzzfeed unsolved on youtube, heck my farts distract me. i gotta be like troy bolton i gotta get my HEAD IN THE GAME!

MY QUESTIONS:

1. IF YOU COULD BE NAMED SOMETHING ELSE, WHAT WOULD YOU BE NAMED?

2. WHAT PERSON INSPIRES YOU THE MOST?

3. IF YOU KNEW THE WORLD WAS ENDING TOMORROW WHAT WOULD YOU DO TODAY?

4. WHAT DO YOU OFTEN THINK ABOUT IN THE SHOWER?

5. WHATS YOUR WEIRD COMBINATION FOOD?

im tagging: @thatlittlered​, @ardentmuse​, @acciosnapes​, @lotsoffandomimagines​, @collecting-stories​ AND WHOEVER WANTS TO DO THIS IF YOU FOLLOW ME OR LIKE MY STORIES TAG ME ILL READ YOUR ANSWERS. HOPE I DID THIS RIGHT SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG YOU GUYS ARE AMAZING MWUAH 

[lowkey-gt]

“please don’t be afraid of me i can’t bear to be abandoned again”

—

some g/t chat noir/ladybug ramblings i needed to get out of my system APPARENTLY

tags: growth, anxious big, bit of fearplay, marichat

—

fighting an akuma

Chat gets HIT with a beam or ray attack but as he’s knocked back by it he detransforms?? identity’s safe cause him and ladybug were knocked back into another room from the blast and it’s just them in there

now-adrien comments on feeling VERY weird before detransforming as ladybug has her back to him and is like “JUST GET OUT OF HERE CHAT it’s okay I’ve got this” and shrugs off his concerns and says whatever happened to him will be fixed with Miraculous Ladybug anyway

Adrien attempts flirting but is basically kicked out of there so ladybug can finish the job

———

next time Adrien transforms, he’s found the akuma-of-the-day first and has jumped to the rescue of some citizens, inside a building

The weird feeling returns as soon as he transforms but he ignores it and shields the citizens and then turns around to check on them

sudden realisation they’re smaller than they should be

Chat diffuses the tension the way he does best, by making sharp quips and laughing it off

But then suddenly he hazes out, and only snaps back to when his head hits the ceiling

a citizen screams

It’s not funny anymore

—

Ladybug was on her way when she catches the news on the billboard plasmas

A building is being destroyed from the inside out. She can hear it cracking from here

Frightened citizens are interviewed in snippets, babbling about chat noir and that something's wrong with him and he’s the danger not the akuma

Ladybug pales. She told her partner he’d be alright. Her last words to him were words of beration

Ladybug reaches the building as it half collapses, but there is a sudden flash before the rubble falls. Ladybug thinks it’s familiar; it’s the flash of a detransformation. If Chat was in there, he’s not now.

———

Ladybug is missing her partner all week. More guilt piles in her gut. What happened to him. Will her last words to him really be “Stop worrying Chat, now get lost!”

To top it off Adrien seems extremely on edge and distant, as if she needed more to worry about

———

Marinette is out by the forest’s edge** when the newest akuma appears. It’s singled her out. She can’t break its line of sight, she can’t transform like this

(**I KNOW THEYRE IN THE MIDDLE OF PARIS BUT THERE NEEDED TO BE TREES & COVER)

The akuma now has her cornered; marinette is almost ready to transform in front of them as they raise their weapon up at her

Suddenly his voice rings out. “TRANSFORMEZ-MOI!”

“Chat!” He’s blocked the attack. He’s standing in front of her, baton drawn, teeth gritted. Marinette gapes at him from behind; she’s never seen his shoulders so tense

The akuma taunts him with a sharp laugh, but then chat has grabbed her and leapt back into the trees as the akuma launches attacks after them

They slip and fall down a sheer hill; chat wraps himself around her and takes all of the scrapes and knocks

———

“Where have you been??” Marinette gets out as they steady themselves at the bottom of the hill. “I’ve been- uh- all of Paris has been so worried!”

She stops when she sees his face. She’s never seen Chat look scared like this

“Marinette- I can’t- I’m sorry- please don’t run-” his body is trembling

He’s holding her shoulders. She’s about to ask what’s wrong. Then suddenly his hands are holding almost all the way around her

She jerks as he whispers to her, frantic reassurances, and within seconds she has to crane her head back to still see him, and he shifts down onto his knees to try and make himself smaller for her but he continues stretching up and looming bigger and bigger

His shadow completely casts over her. his head reaches the treeline and he crouches even more. his whispering stops for a moment and is replaced with a groan, and it rumbles so loud that marinette can feel it through the ground under her feet. His hands are almost as tall as her

She’s stepping back now as his head fills all her vision, and it seems to slow, maybe stop, but there’s so much of him now how can she even tell at this point

His head is down. his hands are still cupped loosely around her. he’s breathing deeply, every inhale & exhale sending shivers through the earth and, through her

Then trembling, his head rises, and his eyes blink open, terrifyingly huge. She can’t help it. She runs.

———

She thinks he says “no!” but all she really hears is how loud the voice is

She can see the hands shift to close around her and she scrambles faster. This is too much

She’s not fast enough. The hands block her route;

There’s more urgent whispering from behind her, “marinette please don’t go” “I can’t let anyone find out” “i promise I won’t hurt you” but the presence is overwhelming and she yelps and quails from him

The whispers stop, the hands are shaking; but then they pull back and the path is clear. She hesitates.

Then runs again.

———

woof that last section got detailed. ANYWAY

Marinette runs away chat noir is extremely distraught, but then

Other parisians have heard the akuma & commotion and marinette can hear them approaching where chat noir is hunkered down

She manages to snag their attention and misdirects them away

After they leave marinette GETS HER BEARINGS and is like (oh my god you actually just ran away from him. first you tell him to go away and feel awful about it but then next time you see him and he needs your help YOU JUST LEAVE HIM ALONE)

RUNRUNRUN BACK TO CHAT NOIR

Surpringly hard to find now what is this he was like fifty feet tall for god’s sake where did you go

“Chat? Chat Noir?” Gently calling his name into the woods. She apologises over and over. She just got so overwhelmed but she promises she’s okay now

To the sound of a branch breaking, her head whips around. She stares for a moment, but it’s only when he shifts ever so carefully that her eyes adjust to how much of him she’s seeing

He’s lying down on his stomach now, to hide under the tree line. Even this big he can still melt into the shadows. That’s her Chat Noir for you

She carefully approaches through the trees. He keeps his arms tucked well in and away from her. His huge eyes aren’t terrifying now; just filled with terror.

-

Chat explains to her that something hit him during the last akuma attack but because he detransformed it didn’t take effect. Now every time he transforms, this happens

Is it what the akuma intended?? Is it an overload of energy sources?? We just don’t know

It’s probably energy-related bc when it happens he feels overwhelmed as well & can’t focus/gets really hazy and detransforming is like, EXTREMELY difficult, he gets stuck like this for a little while and it takes real effort and focus to detransform now

Marinette, absolutely horrified that he hasn’t asked her for help: Why haven’t you gone to Ladybug??

After nearly collapsing a building the last time, Chat doesn’t want it happening in the midst of Paris again, but also the only place that Ladybug appears is in the midst of Paris when fighting an akuma. He doesn’t know who she is outside of that so he can’t exactly find and meet with her later

Marinette: (hdkadjakdfjsjjd)

“Also….I’m so afraid of scaring her….I don’t want her to look at me like you just did I couldn’t bear it,”

Marinette: (HDJAKDJAKFJSJJDSJ)

———

ITS LIKE 2AM AND I DONT HAVE MUCH MORE THAN THAT BUT IF I NEED TO MAYBE I’LL ADD MORE LATER,,,,,,,,