#and as much as i would LOVE to talk about the donner party all the time – not sure my dad would feel the same lmao | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inkmemes · 3 years

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ryan ross lyric sentence starters ↪ taken from various songs he’s written, lyrics he’s sung, & poetry he’s penned. trigger warnings for mentions of sex, cheating, drugs. alter as you see fit ♡

“so close …”

“i am composing a burlesque.”

“i'm all alone in an afterglow.”

“but we haven’t even met yet.”

“this war ain't gonna fix itself.”

“you can’t be lonely.”

“you're gonna have to dig your way out.”

“she was nowhere to be seen.”

“some people never change.”

“i know i broke your heart. mine is broken too.”

“i'm carving pumpkins.”

“i'm afraid that i may have faked it.”

“though you tried to cut me down it wasn’t deep enough.”

“this may call for a proper introduction.”

“i know it’s mad.”

“all the lights are on, but no one's home.”

“a year ago, i was dreaming of where i am now.”

“charm your way out.”

“we're all too small to talk to god.”

“you’re invited.”

“it's not so pleasant.”

“if you're going, then go.”

“i was suspicious and naive.”

“we're still so young, desperate for attention.”

“things have changed for me, and that's okay.”

“that's the spirit.”

“watch your mouth.”

“it started with a simple kiss.”

“don't you move.”

“what a wonderful caricature of intimacy.”

“we'll never go hungry.”

“praying for love in a lap dance and paying in naivety.”

“i lie in silence and feel like a fool.”

“grab your hat and fetch a camera.”

“your eyes are the size of the moon.”

“it's time for us to take a chance.”

“you should take this heart of mine.”

“how did i get here in the right from wrong?”

“i know it just doesn't feel like a night out.”

“it just made her more interesting.”

“she didn't even see me.”

“do you know what i mean?”

“i'm wrecking this evening already, and loving every minute of it.”

“i sure do make an easy target.”

“someone i love loves someone else.”

“don't bother waiting up.”

“don’t you go down.”

“you vanished when you'd gotten what you came here for.”

“would it be alright if we just sat and talked for a little while?”

"when did he get all confident?"

“you know it will always just be me.”

“i feel the same.”

“all my forgotten poems are a joke.”

“she'd wanna kiss you all the time.”

“i want a big celebration.”

“i'll ignore my heart and lie to the truth.”

“film the world before it happens.”

“that's just ridiculously odd.”

“it grows like fancy flowers.”

“he tried to save the calendar business.”

“i wonder if this was physical or if it could have been in my head.”

“i wouldn't be caught dead in this place.”

“you're pulling the trigger all wrong.”

“i saw you, i met you, i loved you.”

“so let me set you free.”

“i'm aware that you're scared of my heart, but it's here.”

“northern downpour sends its love.”

“you better put that pen to paper.”

“if you're gonna preach, for god sakes, preach with conviction.”

“haven't you heard that i'm the new cancer?”

“i know i broke your heart.”

“i am something velveteen.”

“we're locked inside.”

“just don't put your teeth on me.”

“when i’m good, i’m the baddest.”

“i’m up, looking for you now.”

“you can call me tonight.”

“it sure as hell ain't normal.”

“haven't you people ever heard of closing the goddamn door?!”

“we sure are in for a show tonight.”

“can't take the kid from the fight.”

“she's got me twisted in love.”

“i could've waited for the train to come.”

“you could love me if i knew how to lie.”

“if it were me, i'd write another song.”

“i fell from the heavens as a fetish.”

“i am renewed.”

“i hope that i've still got your help.”

“take a look at what you got me into.”

“we should feed our jewelry to the sea.”

“who could ask for any more?”

“i'm pouring out my heart for paper.”

“i need to leave you but i never will.”

“i forgot how to call you.”

“just stay where i can see you.”

“it's the greatest thing that's yet to have happened.”

“i’m doing my best.”

“she didn't choose this role.”

“life is not a fairytale.”

“our loneliness will keep us warm.”

“i don't mind taking a photograph.”

“you're gonna bend until it breaks.”

“maybe something in my blood could lift my spirits up.”

“i am out of my mind.”

“imagine knowing me.”

“i hope it's where i belong.”

“is it still me that makes you sweat?”

“your speech is slurred enough that you just might swallow your tongue.”

“i must be lucky to have you be the one who loves me.”

“but who could love me?”

“you clicked your heels and wished for me.”

“give me your attention.”

“you set the house on fire.”

"man, it feels good to feel this way."

“i've got more wit, a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better fuck then any boy you'll ever meet.”

“if the clouds were singing a song, i'd sing along. wouldn't you, too?”

“i know i've been wrong.”

“kissed a girl in the lobby ‘cause she asked so politely.”

“i can't get out by myself.”

“true love like ours is worth so much more than a diamond ring.”

“it never made her happy, 'cause she couldn't ever have me.”

“i do drunk dialing minus the alcohol.”

“i hope to god he was worth it.”

“he looked like he was barely hanging on.”

“why do i find myself outside at your window in the night?”

“i'd put a statue of myself upon the shelf.”

“they spill unfound from a pretty mouth.”

“ i'm going to need you to keep time.”

“you better back your shit up.”

“i think i owe it to you to try to be every hallucination you see in me.”

“you do this all the time."

“you're not what he's thinking of when he's with the other girl.”

things have changed for me.”

“this was no accident.”

“it's much better to face these kinds of things with a sense of poise and rationality.”

“just sit back and relax.”

“i, for one, won't stand for this.”

“we play by donner party rules at all times.”

“the glitter is gone.”

“boys will be boys.”

“you're all that's left for me.”

“my mind is all mixed up.”

“who knew that love was a dangerous drug?”

“'she couldn't ever have me.”

“isn't this exactly where you'd like me?”

“we can play normal for a few days.”

“i ground my teeth and you bite your tongue.”

“in case i lost my train of thought where was it that we last left off?”

“it seems i’m someone i've never met.”

“i think i made you up.”

“it never gave a damn about me.”

“perhaps, i was born with curiosity, the likes of those of old crows.”

“i'm cold, i'm hungry, but i'm bored.”

“i don't want no gifts.”

“the monster mash is playing.”

“do you really even live here?”

“this kind of thing always happens.”

“you were right. i was wrong, like i always am.”

“i missed your skin when you were east.”

“i feel as if i’m a figurine.”

“every night is the same.”

“ i'm sure i didn't ruin her.”

“i could have sworn we danced slow before.”

“i'm seated and sweating to a dance song on the club's pa.”

“it's nice to think that you are always wanted.”

“am i who you think about in bed?”

“you'll never know until you're there.”

“come on, this is screaming ‘photo op’.”

“you and i will always be ‘the dream’.”

“any practiced catholic would cross themselves upon entering.”

“it was a scream when we were young and dumb.”

“i know i should've never left.”

“who can i believe?”

“she always had her fangs at my jugular vein.”

“and a few more of your least favorite things.”

“in matters of opinion, love has gone insane.”

“if i go to hell will you come with me or just leave?”

“in the house of mirrors, ain't nothing keep you safe.”

“you know that you feel it too.”

“now we're making some progress.”

“god damn, i’d hate to see what i’d do under the influence.”

“i’m only reflecting your perfections.”

“just a first kiss to face the new year.”

“we’ll sit in silence.”

“you're a regular decorated emergency.”

“euphoria is a risk on the floor.”

“she could never win me.”

“love is all i'm really after.”

“have some composure,.”

“this was a therapeutic chain of events.”

“on the hotel floor, drinking warm champagne.”

“we need to talk.”

“every word gets you a step closer to hell.”

“let me help you please.”

“i never said i missed her when everybody kissed her.”

“now i know it's just a matter of time until i make her come.”

“if the world were ending, would you kiss me or just leave me?”

“forgive me if i’m not quite ready to give them to you.”

“i want to know what everyone knows.”

“you told me not to fear the dark.”

“the weather is impeccable.”

“i don't love you, i'm just passing the time.”

“i can't help but to hear an exchanging of words.”

“love is established philosophy.”

“but it might’ve been the calm that comes before the storm.”

“let's sing it like you mean it.”

“there's a devil in the corner.”

“there’s never anything good on tv.”

“everything goes according to plan.”

“i ran from love like it was laced.”

“i guess we're back to us.”

“we can't help ourselves.”

“i remember fuckin' in the falling rain.”

“i wasn't born to be a skeleton.”

“i couldn't quit her.”

“everything's gone missing.”

“we must reinvent love.”

“i know it's sad that i never gave a damn about the weather.”

“what do i know?”

"the best part about you was me."

“check the pocket of my leather jacket.”

“i am truly made of one million glowing constellations.”

“i mean, technically our marriage is saved.”

“she's a dangerous place.”

“even the truth is wrong sometimes.”

“was it god who chokes in these situations?”

“i feel like something on strings.”

“she couldn't ever catch me.”

“i try not to think about it and you.”

“i know it's just a matter of time.”

“i can't prove this makes any sense, but i sure hope that it does.”

“you know you should take it a day at a time.”

“i never said i’d leave the city.”

“it's the greatest thing you'd ever imagine.”

“i might have lost control.”

“i'm in a rut but still adored.”

“i'll keep my distance.”

“i need to take a vacation.”

“it's almost halloween.”

“is it a fairy tale?”

“well, this calls for a toast, so pour the champagne.”

“you can't stand it.”

“i'm exactly where you'd like me, you know.”

“we were always thick as thieves, you and me.”

“maybe i will, maybe i won’t.”

“all i want to do is dig a hole with you.”

“stop stalling.”

“it truly is enough to be alive and be in love.”

“i can't believe my eyes.”

“if i were to die tonight, would you cry, or deny my place in your life?”

“you are at the top of my lungs.”

“things do like to build up and fall apart at the same time for me.”

“why can't we just be friends?"

“i never know where the evening goes.”

“i want to go where everyone feels the same.”

“i fell in love again.”

“all i do is lie.”

“they asked for it.”

“was it all a dream?”

“all your wishes, they will sink like stones.”

“i wandered through the sunshine.”

“living even one minute without you is a moment i'd rather not have to live to see.”

“i want to go where everyone goes.”

“i think that i have had enough.”

“asked to be her husband; she already had one in prison.”

“true love is scarce.”

“somehow it still came undone.”

“things are shaping up to be pretty odd.”

“is ‘young’ a word for ‘dumb’; a word for ‘fun’?”

“said i'd let you keep it forever.”

“i never said i’d leave this town.”

“guess i'm going to a party.”

“damn, this is rough.”

“someone should have told her that pretty ain't a job.”

“something changed along the way.”

“i can't convince myself that you were good for more than cheap thrills.”

“now i’m the only one to blame.”

“let's not get selfish.”

“i hardly knew a thing about you.”

“give your feet a chance, they'll do all the thinking.”

“make a name for yourself.”

“it's useless searching in the cupboards.”

“i won't cut my beard and i won't change my hair.”

“it’s just the end of the world.”

“back to the room where it all began.”

“what was it that you put into my guts?”

“what a shame.”

“we'll leave the past out to pasture.”

“i know the world’s a broken bone, but melt your headaches, call it home.”

“everybody knows it but you.”

“it looks like the end of history as we know.”

#rp meme #rp prompt #rp starters #rp sentence meme #rp sentence starters #'ink ...' u say. 'i know' i say #if u know my newest rp blog and u see this ... simply Do Not Perceive Me #im having me time get OUT #let me live my LIFE

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refinedbuffoonery · 4 years

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This one screams MacRiley to me: “There’s a storm and omg I’m losing signal are you okay?? Hold on let me drive 489432 miles to get you the night before christmas”

I got a little carried away with this one lmao.

Mac doesn’t expect his phone to light up with Riley’s name at 11 pm on Christmas Eve. What is she calling him for? She’s supposed to be spending Christmas at a cabin near Lake Tahoe with her mom.

Frowning, he accepts the FaceTime call. As soon as her face fills the screen, he asks, “Are you okay?”

A flash of emotion crosses her face, but it vanishes before Mac can figure out what it means. “Yeah, we’re fine. Although, I can’t say the same for the radiator.” She tilts her phone, bringing an ancient radiator into view. “It quit working, and I can’t figure out how to fix it.”

Mac exhales a sigh of relief. She’s okay. Once the panic recedes, he smiles and offers, “I’ll walk you through it.”

“Thanks.” Mac barely catches Riley’s sheepish smile before she flips the camera around.

“Merry Christmas, Mac.” Riley’s mom’s voice echoes in the background. “Who are you celebrating with this year?”

“Mom,” Riley groans, “I already told you. He and Bozer drove home to spend Christmas with Bozer’s parents.”

“Oh hush, baby girl,” her mom chastises. “Let the man speak for himself. Is Bozer making his pastrami again this year?”

Mac chuckles. “Well, it wouldn’t be Christmas without Bozer’s pastrami.”

“That’s good to hear. Now hurry up and fix the radiator. It’s cold in here!”

“Yes ma’am,” Mac says. Addressing Riley, he asks, “So, what are we working with?”

Fixing the radiator is easy enough. Riley sits on the floor, holding the phone between her feet so she has both hands free. Mac leans back against the headboard, content to watch Riley’s manicured fingers work. “The dark green looks nice,” he says, absentmindedly.

“What?”

Crap, he didn’t mean to say that out loud. “Your nails,” he rushes to clarify.

“Oh.” A moment later. “Thanks.”

Oh god, why did he have to make it awkward? Talking to Riley is never awkward. Now he’s being weird. Why is this so weird? Mac shakes his head, disrupting the spiraling chain of thoughts.

“How’s Tahoe?” he asks, determined to break the now-awkward silence.

“Good!” The mood shifts instantly at Riley’s bright tone. “It’s so gorgeous here, Mac. If Matty doesn’t have us off on some real-life version of Die Hard, we should come back at New Year’s.”

Mac snorts. “With all the tourists there for SnowGlobe? No thanks.”

“Mac,” she scolds. “Don’t be mean to tourists.”

“Says the woman who grew up in LA. You hate tourists even more than I do!”

Her silence only confirms that he’s correct.

“So,” Mac continues, “your mom said that it’s cold there. Is it snowing?”

Finished fixing the radiator, Riley flips the camera so it points at her face again. She isn’t wearing any makeup, Mac notices right away. She looks pretty without it. “Yeah,” she says. “There’s going to be a big storm tonight. Donner Pass is supposed to get a couple feet of snow overnight.”

That’s a lot, Mac thinks. He tells her as much. Riley and her mom are staying near there, in some off the grid area between Sugar Bowl and Donner Lake. She’d sent him the details before she had left, in case of an emergency.

“Anyway,” Riley says. “I’ll let you get back to the party. Thanks for your help.”

As much as Mac loves Bozer’s family, he wouldn’t mind talking to Riley all night. He doesn’t know how to tell her that without it being weird, so he just says, “Of course. Anytime, Riles.”

She hangs up, and Mac realizes he’d trade Bozer’s toasty house for a too-cold cabin in the middle of nowhere in a heartbeat.

*****

Mac definitely doesn’t expect it when Riley calls him again at 2 am. It’s just a normal call this time, not a FaceTime request.

The line goes dead as soon as he picks up.

He tries again. Nothing.

Again. It goes straight to voicemail. Before he can hang up and try again, his phone rings. Riley’s calling.

He picks up immediately.

“Mac—” she starts.

The line goes dead, again. Shit.

Mac races to the living room. He turns the TV on to the local news, quickly lowering the volume so he doesn’t wake anyone up. A blonde news anchor stands in front of a map of Lake Tahoe, and Mac reads the headline scrolling across the screen.

STORM KNOCKS OUT POWER THROUGHOUT TAHOE AREA, OVERNIGHT TEMPS EXPECTED TO DROP WELL BELOW FREEZING.

Riley. She needs help. Why else would she call in the middle of the night?

Mac scrambles to find his boots and a coat. Bozer shuffles into view, rubbing his eyes and looking less than thrilled at being awake at this hour.

“Mac, what are you doing? It’s 2 am dude.”

“Riley called. I’m going to go get her.”

“In the middle of the night?” Bozer frowns. “Is she okay?”

Mac pats his pockets, looking for his keys. “I don’t know. She called a bunch of times but the line kept going dead before she could say anything. They’re getting snow tonight and the power went out. I just need to make sure she’s alright.”

Bozer clears his throat, and Mac looks up to see his best friend dangling his car keys in front of his face. He mutters his thanks.

“Tahoe’s more than three hours away man,” Bozer says. “Are you sure she didn’t just butt dial you or something?”

They both know Riley Davis never butt dials people. Ever.

Mac sighs. “I’ll just drive myself crazy sitting here and not knowing, so I might as well go.”

Bozer gives him a knowing look. “Okay. There’s chains in the garage, and you can borrow my dad’s ski jacket.”

“I have chains in the truck, but I will take the jacket.” Mac starts filling water bottles and collecting snacks while Bozer fetches the coat. Keeping his hands busy doesn’t do much to staunch the worst-case scenarios running through his head. What if she—

No. He couldn’t think like that.

Bozer returns with the heavy coat and accompanies Mac to his truck. “Be safe, okay?”

Mac squeezes his best friend’s shoulder. “I’ll be safe.” He jumps in the truck and flies backward out the driveway.

I’m coming, Riles.

*****

It’s almost 6 am when Mac pulls up in front of the cabin. An unfamiliar car is parked in front, buried to its bumper in fresh snow. It must be Riley’s mom’s.

Mac trudges through the snow, suddenly wishing he’d traded his Christmas pajama pants in for snow pants. He kicks away the snow piled in front of the cabin door that’s preventing it from opening all the way. “Riles!” he calls. Mac raps his knuckles against the old wood. “Riley!” He knocks again.

He’s about to call her name a third time when he hears a faint, “Mac?”

There’s a scrambling noise on the other side of the door, but then it swings open and Riley’s standing in the doorway, nose pink despite being bundled up like she’s planning on spending the night outside. Considering how cold it must be in the cabin, she might as well be.

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

“You called.”

Bewilderment contorts Riley’s face. “I—” she trails off. “You drove all the way out here just because my call didn’t go through?”

Now Mac feels awkward. And kind of stupid. “Uhh, yeah.” He rubs the back of his neck.

There it is again, that emotion he can’t place. “Wow,” she says, and not in a sarcastic way. She shakes her head, stepping aside to let him in. “God, come in. You’re probably cold.”

Mac follows her inside, muttering, “Like it’s any warmer in here.”

Never letting Riley out of his peripheral vision, Mac scans the small cabin. It’s cute, with well-loved furniture and lake themed decorations. The blazing fire casts an orange glow over the room. Mac’s eyes land on Riley’s mom, curled on the couch underneath a mountain of blankets with a fluffy, white dog butt covering her lap. The dog’s head rests beside the free end of the blankets—presumably where Riley had been sleeping.

“When did your mom get a Husky?” he asks in a low voice.

Riley shoots him a “get a load of this” look. “She didn’t. That’s what I called you about. I brought in a new load of firewood around one, and I heard her barking. There’s a pond maybe twenty yards that way—” Riley points— “and she’d fallen in.”

Riley rubs her hands together. Without thinking, Mac gently grabs her icy hands and holds them between his warm ones. Both their gazes suddenly snap to their joined hands, but neither comments.

Riley continued her story. “We got her out okay, but I was afraid she’d end up with hypothermia. I called you because I didn’t know what to do.”

Oh. “So what did you do?”

“We managed to dry her with a hair dryer and let her drink warm water before the power went out, but since then we’ve just piled on the couch.” Riley shivers. “I think she’s okay now.”

“Are you okay?” Riley’s tough, but she’s not immune from scary situations.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” It’s false bravado, but Mac doesn’t call her on it.

Instead, he jerks his chin toward the couch. “Is there room for one more?”

Riley visibly relaxes. “I don’t know,” she drawls, “the dog’s quite a bed hog.” Mac laughs.

There’s definitely not room for four on the couch, but they make it work. Riley moves a few cushions onto the floor to give them more space. Mac waits for her to squeeze between the dog and the back of the couch before taking the remaining space between the dog and the edge. He doesn’t fit.

He hisses, “Can you move over any more? My butt’s hanging off the edge.” The dog lifts her head and licks his face in a mocking “no.”

Riley scoots back, but there’s barely a difference. “Sorry. That’s all you get.”

Mac sighs. “Well, then the dog’s getting squished.” He reaches across the mass of white fluff to wrap an arm around Riley’s back and pull himself further onto the couch, pinning the dog between their stomachs in the process.

He doesn’t need to keep holding her—hell, he probably shouldn’t keep holding her—but Mac doesn’t let go. Instead, he keeps watch over his girls as they fall asleep, first the dog, then Riley. And when their soft breathing is the only sound in the eerie stillness of a snowy morning, Mac lets himself drift off as well.

#beth writes #macgyver #macriley #holiday promptathon

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gayleafpool · 3 years

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Yk my mom used to drag me to church when I was a kid (before I got banned for either calling the preacher the “donner party man” [i thought we were actually eating Oily Josh, not just crackers], for following the advice of that stupid tumblr pots saying to being a black bathbomb to baptism, or for throwing some of the teeth from the Jar [they’re not mine don’t worry] into that money tray [idk what the last straw was]) and I would imagine leaf pool just utterly destroying everything using whatever they talked about Jeezy Cheese did that day. She would preform miracles. She made a blind man see. Yahshua hamashiach? Idk him all I know is Leafpool. I started thinking of this because my little seven year old brain went pool=water and I thought cats were water resistant (turns out that what I thought “cats” were are actually koalas so reading the warrior cats was quite fun just so many koalas everywhere bro [also neither thing is water resistant so uh yeah and even that WOULDNT make it float because of its mass but like yeah]) so I thought that she could just walk on water (also that that was why cats hated water cause they couldn’t touch it) so uh yeah. I’m over sharing but uh yeah Leafpool is now Jeezer. Which is technically a demigod! Have fun I guess uh bye!

Is it okay if I get my haircut like your design of Nico? I love their hair so much-

ARE U OK

#asks #idk if i’m more concerned abt u in general #or tha fact that i understood all this #this was such a wild ride i had to read this like 5 times #this is the kind of weird shit i want to get in asks guys this is great reading this was like found on a trip #*going on a

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bellatrixxue · 4 years

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Xue’s Supernatural Dare: Wendigo (S1 EP2)

Hello, everyone? How did everyone feel about the finale? Yes? Yes? Oh. Oh. Oh my. Oh, dear.

Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeell that half-assed homophobic chicken-shit fuckbucket’s not gonna stop me, since I strapped myself onto this roller coaster already and I promised I’m not getting out until the ride’s over, so here we go, wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Also, those who are in this roller coaster with me, ready? Tag list is: @fangirlxwritesx67 @amazingiam00 @kalliravenne @indecisive20something @2musiclover2 @impossibletosleepthrough @there-must-be-a-lock @wingedcatninja @arvit

Oh my gods this recap is so cheesy I actually can make a fondue out of it. 2000s, everybody!

A WHOLE MINUTE AND A HALF FOR THAT FONDUE

FUCKJUMPSCARETITLEFUCKYOU

So we’re starting the episode with the murder scene first, eh? Is that gonna be a trend?

Oh come on, Chads, you’re out in nature and you’re playing video games? Absorb the nature...before it absorbs you!

Waitwait. Holy shit is that...is that Cory Monteith? Oh, bless his soul...

If the wendigo eats his dick as he’s peeing I’m immediately giving Jensen Ackles $100. For no real reason, I just feel like giving him money for already carrying the show on his back.

I can’t tell if it did or not, so I’m not paying yet.

Aw, Sammy...

"I should have told you the truth.” *Vine voice* BUT YOU DIDN’T

FUCKYOUINTHEASSHOhnightmare. Nightmare. So did he visit her at her grave or not? I need answers.

A week? Goddamn. Poor thing. That man-eating tree’s fucking good at his job, man.

“There’s nothing there, it’s just...woods,” Sam, I don’t know if Jess’s death hit you hard or if you got into law school by eating some ancient dick and/or pussy instead of earning that high score fair and square, but the woods “in the middle of nowhere” (your words) are known to be one of the top places full of weird-ass creatures. Even kindergartners know that.

Ehehehehehehehehe he’s so smol next to his lil bro my lil shit

At least you’re coming up with decent covers this time. No Agent Mulder and Scully ruining things for you this time around.

“Bull” oop-

Oh Dean’s a smoooooooooth operator. Good going, buddy.

AND HE GOT A COPY OF THAT DOCUMENT TEAM DEAN TEAM DEAN

Oh that death really got to Sam. I hope he doesn’t turn out to be a trigger-happy psycho. Or eat the man-eating tree and become one himself.

Oh, Haley’s a cutie! Which one’s her brother? Cory? Discount Enrique Iglesias?

Do you have a card for EVERY profession, Dean? And how do I get them too?

That is a very pretty car. I bet they wasted half the budget on that thing.

Okay, sonny boy, little bro, Broseidon, calm down.

Ah, fuck, Haley and Broseidon is gonna go into the woods, that’s more heads to worry about.

How the fuck does Sam find information this fast? I’m impressed, I take five hours to get to one article for my research paper. Or maybe I’m just lazy. So he really earned his law school interview without having to eat dick and pussy, huh.

Every 23 years? What is this, Pennywise? Are we going to see the wendigo do his best Tim Curry do his best scary clown impression? Honk honk?

“Whatever that thing is, it can move.” And the sun rises on the East, Sammy. Why are you so smart and dumb at the same time? Is this his character trait? It might grow on me.

Ahhh, so Sam’s go-to move at interrogation is doing puppy dog eyes and sympathize with the person. He’d make a good lawyer, shame that man-eating tree.

Go Grandpa Exposition, go!

Go Grandpa Exposition, go, give us information and none at all!

OH GEEZ THAT SCAR. PENNYWISE WENDIGO IS VICIOUS.

Skinwalker, Back Dog...Ooh, those all sound cool! I hope we get to see them soon!

‘Corporeal’ doesn’t sound like a real word, but then again, English doesn’t sound like a real language. Sorry. Moving on.

Sam’s gonna eat the wendigo with that attitude, Jesus Christ.

AND HIS BROTHER, AT THIS RATE. If the real villain turns out to be inside Sam all along I’m gonna flip. Is that why women keep dying and burning on ceilings where he sleeps? Is he secretly Lucifer’s spawn or something?

“Oh sweetheart I don’t wear shorts”. They queer-coded him from the start and they tried to make you believe he was straight for fifteen seasons straight? And some people bought that?

Oh, crap, another crappy death treatment for Cory before he got into Glee...No, I wasn’t into Glee, I just watched a few episodes and I might hate Rachel Berry...And Lea Michele...ahem...

Dean is totally flirting with Roy shut upppppppp

OOP AND THERE ROY GOES OH THE SEXUAL TENSION IS HIGH IN THESE WOODS TODAY

“It’s probably the most honest I’ve been with a woman. Ever.” See. Bi. Bi bi bi.

So...why the coordinates, Daddy Negan? Is this a portal to Hell? A place where man-eating trees grow?

*carefully places death flag on Roy*

Ooooh the campsite is very...haunted house-y. You know what I’m saying?

That’s not Discount Enrique Iglesias, but Pennywise wendigo, yes? Those things can mimic human voices, right?

*Google searches*...There are so many versions of this tale I can’t even confirm or deny it. Dammit.

Maybe Pennywise wendigo just wants some snacks and a nice phone and GPS? Maybe he misses his family in uh, Canada or something?

Daddy Negan’s journal is a e s t h e t i q u e .

I’m so sorry, but the way Sammy smirks as he speaks with those dark, dark voids for eyes? My boy’s a demon. He’s a demon, I’m telling you.

At least Haley has some sense to her. *puts another death flag on Roy*

*PUTS YET ANOTHER DEATH FLAG ON ROY*

True, that. What the heck is Daddy Negan up to with all of this?

“Saving people, hunting things, the family business!” Okay, the way Dean said it gave me chills.

I can actually empathize with Sam here...As whiny and bitchy as he is, he has his reasons to be this way. I guess if I were in his shoes, I’d be less of a Dean and more of a Sam, too. We deal with our losses quite similarly.

Ah, the brotherly bonding moments like these little talks make the show worth it. It’s so heartwarming.

Pennywise wendigo! I didn’t miss you, why’re you here to burst my happy bubble?

I’m starting to see a slight parallel between Haley and Broseidon and Dean and Sammy. Hmm.

Nice meeting you, Roy. Zoop you go.

Haley and Broseidon are taking this rather well, I’m glad they do.

Okay, actual exposition time, thank you.

Whoa, Broseidon speaks! Donner Party! Please don’t remind me of that! Those poor people!

Hibernation and food storage. Delightful, just delightful.

TORCHING? *CALLS RAMMSTEIN*

Somehow, not being able to see the wendigo is scarier to me than what I will probably see itself. Limited budget horror can actually work well.

Oh, dear, Roy literally did a death drop. Badum tissssssssss.

FUCK IT TOOK DEAN THE ONLY CHARACTER I CARE ABOUImean I love you too, Sam! Come on, let’s find him before it’s too late!

A trail of M&Ms! Yes, Broseidon! And Hansel and Gretel refercalled it. Sammy, you and I share the same wavelength?

SHITSHITTHEYTRIPPEDANDFELLINTHEFUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

Thank the gods the Pennywise wendigo kept them right there. Chances.

DISCOUNT ENRIQUE IGLESIAS IS STILL ALIVE GEEZ BUT ALSO PHEW

Ah, Dean Winchester, I love you so much that I can’t even begin to describe it.

Also how convenient that the flare guns are there. Deus ex machina!

Haley would bode well as a hunter, look at her courage, her will. There are more hunters around than Daddy Negan and the brothers, right?

Yeah, seeing the actual wendigo makes me less scared of it now. It’s unnerving, but still.

TEAM DEAN YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHAW

Graphics are...alright, but it’s the thought that counts!

Running with the grizzly bear story. Smart Broseidon. Ben. Sorry, you deserve to be called by your real name. I think with practice they could become good hunters, along with their Discount Enrique Iglesias brother! Is there a fanfiction for that? Can I write it now?

...

I AM WILLING TO DIE TO PROTECT DEAN WINCHESTER I

Haley’s a lesbian, that’s why she kissed him on the cheek only. Headcanoned. Also I have a crush on her, she’s really pretty? Like? Heart eyes???

Ah, the siblings parallels again. Let’s hope neither of the two brothers end up in the bed like that.

“Man, I hate camping.” Really. Really really. Really.

“I’m driving”

...

SAM WINCHESTER I’M SORRY I EVER SPOKE ILL OF YOU I WILL PROTECT YOU WITH MY LIFE TOO I PROMISE YOU I WILL

It’s just a sassy bisexual brother and his little snide bisexual brother on the road to kill evil creatures and find their father and I love this show? Help? Help???

I really, really see the charm of Supernatural now! I’m fully invested in both brothers and their story, and I’m cheering them both on! Let’s get Daddy Negan back and get rid of that man-eating tree once and for all!

Six stars out of five!

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

This dare is introducing me to a whole new world, and I really, really am glad I took that jump a few days ago, man!

Thank you everyone for reading my ramblings, and I’ll see you in the day after with the next review! Thank you for sticking with me! Buh-bye!

- Xue

#xue's supernatural dare #spn #supernatural #dean winchester #jensen ackles #sam winchester #jared paladecki #text #i had a really bad day today with my constant pain and aching from the chemo #but this really brought genuine smiles to my face!#what a good show #what a wonderful show #how the FUCK did they fuck it up later #well #i guess i'll find out when i get there lmao

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painted-crow · 3 years

Text

Submission time #19

so i’ve been spending the last little bit unburning my lion primary. now i’m sort of lost on secondary? i suspect i have bird in there somewhere but i’m having a hard time separating my natural secondary and a model that i really like and find helpful. (or maybe it’s the now-surprisingly-loud lion primary drive for authenticity coming through?) so if it’s okay with you, i’ll take a crack at some of the quiz questions and see if there’s anything of note? spacing might be weird—i’m on mobile :/

Sure thing!

When you succeed, how influential in that success were the people around you?

my answer to this one depends on the day. yes, they’re extremely influential; no, i don’t always like it. not because i don’t appreciate or need the help but because it got into my head in a funny way growing up. i’ve always been tremendously lucky to have people who love and want to help me, but like... it gets to the point where it feels like i’m nothing on my own. how much of this is a favour? what do i owe you? are you just trying to spare my feelings or because i’m related to someone else? i’m desperate to be able to say (and believe) that i’ve done something for myself on my own terms.

Ooh, okay. So, you've maybe got some caretaker Badgers around you, but that's not you--you don't really value this in yourself, even if it's how the community around you works. If you have any Badger secondary, it's anxious.

Do people consider you charismatic?

charisma is SUCH a concept. it gives off such an animal magnetism, face of the revolution vibe, which is not me at all. i have to work hard to be nice bc most people deserve the benefit of the doubt (as i repress the instinct to be judgy and mean LMAO) and also bc it just works better socially? flies and honey and all that. i also have very specific ways of being nice: “mom friend” and “hypercompetent rookie in line of succession” and “spicy and nonjudgmental confidante” which, granted, are already all parts of my personality just emphasized for clarity. i think of it like... personality colour correction, or... code-switching i guess.

You've literally just described Actor Bird. Also, you're not very nice when you describe yourself, are you?

people tend to like me more than i like me, though, and it catches me a little by surprise every time. maybe it’s just because i live in my own head and it’s a lot quieter and more anxious up here. it does suck a little, suddenly being worried that like “ooh ppl only like what u show them but that’s not how u rlly are”

Lions (primary or secondary) and Actor Bird can really clash... it sounds like you're discovering that your primary doesn't like this tactic as it unburns. Also, I think Bird masks just take a lot of energy if used long term. That might be me though.

so i’ll Sprinkle In Some Light Trauma to gauge the reaction (and regret it immediately). the truth is that not many people make it past the social utility part of friendship and so i don’t rlly... feel safe? putting down the masks which are designed to smooth interactions in any case. (so i guess YES but actually no i’m charismatic but also that’s a very different public facing side)

Yeah, this is all Actor Bird so far. Also, hugs.

Do you like going into situations with a plan?

mmm. i don’t think i plan so much as i attempt to see into the future and force my best outcome. i HATE going in blind—if i can a way around something, i will, but if i can’t it has to at least be a good and sensible attempt. most of the plans i usually put together have coping-mechanism, doodling while on a phone call energy: too granular to ever implement, just something to put order to the things you’re thinking.

This is still lots of Bird energy. Plans don't always look the same, you know? And some of us barely use 'em at all.

like, i do have all my degree requirements and preferred classes listed out, because that’s important and i should have that sorted out correctly before declaring my major. but the hour by hour daily schedule is more of a thing to make me feel in control and like i’ve put the work into considering it.

i’m also a stereotypical nerd: i have an english/history brain, i write a lot, i fall down personality inventory rabbit holes for fun, i pick up random things that end up relevant years later, nothing was as distressing as not being able to read for fun bc university was just Too Much—you know the drill.

I do, but not everyone is like this. You're probably a Bird, and I wonder if you're taking your secondary for granted because you feel like it's expected of you.

but for someone who plans as a coping mechanism, it’s also sometimes the best way to put me off. like i don’t know, being friends, which is the only thing in my life where traditional overthinking would RUIN it absolutely.

i know someone who semi-despairingly refers to herself as machiavellian because she interacts with people like it’s 4D chess.

Huh, so your friends don't talk about themselves very nicely either.

collects info, reshapes her entire personality into something designed to appeal to whoever she’s talking to. i tried not to get into motive bc socializing really is like That sometimes, but i couldn’t imagine pulling that off. i talk big game about acting a certain way, but only in ways that are already part of me yk? if i couldn’t believe i was being legit in some way i’m like 97% sure it would show through somehow and make it real weird.

You're still on Actor Bird. Your friend might have a Snake model? but you're an Actor Bird.

How do you feel about shortcuts?

work smart not hard, she says, working hard anyway bc she needs to see all the little things fall into place just to make sure that they do.

seriously though, that is for “important enough” things: i need to see it done to standard. i can rest only with a job well done kind of thing—due diligence so that any tomfoolery that goes down isn’t my fault and therefore no one can get mad at me.

This might be a Badger model, and I'm gonna take a shot in the dark and say you picked this up from your community because it's what they expect of you. You don't seem to take any joy in it, though; it seems like an anxious response.

also i have beef with the idea of being gullible, so i’m gonna see it with my OWN EYES. for less important things, it’s a heart says yes mind says no situation. i love the shortcut that saves time and effort but keeps the quality, which is plentiful when it’s like. pasta sauce, but not when it’s like. the Donner party heading to california. i would love to shorten that stuff, but the consequences of a poorly done shortcut are more painful than the slog.

Bird modeling Badger. Yep.

Do you feel the need to keep the peace?

(it didn’t come up on this run of the quiz but i’ve been mulling over for a while!)

Huh. This question doesn't always come up? I always get it. I have to assume it's the quiz checking for Badger.

i’ve got a fairly bad temper and a transparent face. so no—i’m not much for keeping the peace. i can do it properly if compelled, but it’s exhausting and irritating and only really makes me resentful of the emotional labour.

Whether you can keep the peace is kind of separate from whether you feel you should, but you also really dislike being in that role. You're modeling some Bookkeeper Badger, which doesn't actually make you happy, and you really don't seem to like using Courtier for anything.

does it bother me when people fight? yeah, like most people do when it’s a rift-causing argument in a group they care strongly about, but if i’m not more loyal to one side of the dispute i’m much more likely to take out all the parties and have done with it. i’ve been known to fight back or even start stuff if the cause is important enough, or i have spleen to vent, but i’m a very messy arguer so staying out of it and collecting receipts in the background is much more my style.

Wonder if you've got some Lion secondary hiding out in your Houses. You don't like going into things unprepared, but maybe there's a Lion model you could be nurturing that would make you happier than that Badger mess that's been pushed on you.

anyway. this was long. made me think harder about badger than i thought. lots of feelings, but def not as sad as the ones i typed up and deleted ages ago which i elect to count as progress. thanks for making it this far hahahah

Yay! Progress!

Yeah, I don't think you're a Badger. It really doesn't make you happy. You sound like a Bird to me: actor Bird, rapid fire Bird, but not Badger. Not Snake, either; if you're a rapid fire or actor Bird (or both) you might mis-Sort yourself into Snake, but I'm not getting that from you.

--Paint

#sortinghatchats #submission #ravenclaw secondary #hufflepuff secondary model #rapid fire bird #actor bird #paint speaks

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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 4 years

Text

Meeting and Dating Joey Donner

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- It was a little known fact that nearly every girl in your school wanted to date or at least screw Joey Donner. You were no exception but at least you could tell he was a total ass and didn’t actually try to get with him.

- You acted uninterested, convinced yourself at times that you were uninterested yet deep down you knew you secretly were attracted to him even if it was just the surface you were attracted to.

- But you’re disinterest is what drew Joeys attention to you in the first place. As everyone else swooned you completely ignored him and talked to “losers” instead, hiding away from attention and for the most part wearing clothes which left nearly everything to the imagination. Though to be fair, you woke up at five in the morning and stayed in school till two; frankly you just weren’t in the mood for heels.

- He wasn’t entirely compelled just by that. No, his real interest towards you started when a friend of yours decided to give you a makeover and plead with you to try it out for a week just to see what would happen. Since you were equally curious you gave it a try, even though you knew it was going to be a hassle.

- Thats why early one morning you arrived at school dressed in a v-neck top, a tight skirt, heels, hair perfectly done and more makeup than usual. To say he was enticed would be an understatement.

- “Had you always been so hot?” Was a common question among your peers but most didn’t even realize it was you until halfway through the day. Even Cameron and Michael; your friends, were having trouble not staring at your cleavage. Boys were swarming you to say the least.

- It was kind of fucked up to have the same people who made fun of you throughout middle school and high school now open doors and pull out chairs for you.

- You and Joey were lab partners so to an extent you were forced to interact for at least a good ten minutes a day. A lot of girls were jealous of you for this exact reason but you didn’t pay them any mind.

- It was when you were sat at your desk pulling on gloves to cut open frogs that Joey actually got his first look at you, well, the new you. He genuinely thought you were transferred and a new girl was sitting in your place. Sure he thought you were good looking before but every girl looks a bit better with makeup and some tight clothes, at least to guys like him.

- He slowly sat down next to you, eyes trained on your face and body as he went. You paid him no mind as you wrote down your notes and got to work. He sat there staring at you for a few moments before shaking his head and getting a hold of himself. He couldn’t actually get with a “loser” like you; it would ruin his reputation.

- He was bewildered when he found himself actually starting to like you. You, the girl who was a nobody, the girl that half the school didn’t know existed and the girl that, regardless of all that, still didn’t like him. You were weirdly endearing for it; hot even. He actually had to work to gain your attention.

- Joey doesn’t really know how to go after girls that he doesn’t have leverage on. Like if a girl likes him it’s easy to score with her but what does he do if they seem to hate his guts?

- He tried flirting, complimenting you and being sweet before he asked you out for the first time. You rejected him, quite brutally might he add and so he had to take a different plan of action. His second plan was to annoy the hell out of you, getting you riled up so that you’d give him the attention he wanted from you, even if it was given to him with a glare.

- After an especially rough week with him borderline bullying you he made the mistake of asking you out again. That’s how you and him got into an insult match in an empty hallway of the school after classes ended.

- A moment of stillness came over the two of you after a particularly heated exchange of words. When all of a sudden his hands were cupping your cheeks and your lips were smashing together.

- It was rough, passionate, heated. You didn’t exactly know why it was happening but to hell if you weren’t enjoying it. So long story short you ended up making out with the cocky most popular guy in the school who only moments before you were calling a pompous ass.

- When you came to your senses you realized he had you pinned against the wall and was thoroughly enjoying himself. The two of you pulled apart to catch your breath and were silent for a while, still close in proximity. Both of you leaned in and shared a much tamer kiss before he spoke.

“I’m an asshole, I get it, but that was great and you can’t deny it, alright? There’s something between us and you know it so why don’t we see how this plays out. Let me take you out and make everyone in this town jealous that I have you.”

- Well maybe it was worth a shot, right? You pulled him into another kiss which he smiled into like a giddy fool even if he wouldn’t ever admit it.

- So that’s how you became the hottest couple in school and started living out the dreams of all your classmates.

- He has a major soft spot for you.

- He’s really cuddly when you’re alone. He’s like a totally different person.

- Lots of gifts and dates people your age shouldn’t be able to afford.

- Being backstage at his modeling and commercial jobs.

- He’s jealous as hell, he hates boys looking at you but at the same time loves it because he’s a smug asshole. It makes him proud that people want what only he has.

- He’s lowkey possessive.

- You have to wear his jacket in classes you don’t have with him.

- Hickeys and constant pda.

- When he’s bored he tends to write his name on your skin. At some point he’ll get you a necklace with his name on it and a ring for himself that has yours engraved on it. He probably wouldn’t even tell you about his ring, you’d just notice it for yourself one day and get a little misty eyed.

- He’ll randomly grab a part of your body and start drawing on it. He reserves dicks for other people though.

- Once you’re in his car he’s eating your face. His lips are on yours and they aren’t letting up until they get their fill.

- He likes to grab your face and pull you into kisses.

- His arm is constantly wrapped around your shoulders or waist.

- You’re on his lap like 90% of the time.

- Even though he’s got a big ego, he actually gets pretty flustered when you compliment him on things other than his looks. He doesn’t know how to react at first but he tries his best to play it off and act cool.

- Someway, somehow, you’re incorporated into his workouts whether it be you sitting on his back or underneath him during pushups or you being used as a bench press. It makes things more entertaining for him and lets him show off.

- I feel like his household was the kind where money substituted actual relationships so this boy is probably hella attention starved. The first time you showed him innocent affection he was kinda confused.

“What are you doing?”

“Loving you.”

“...alright.”

- He’s an asshole but it’s somehow endearing?

- Anyone who comes close to bothering you is getting his ass kicked either by him or someone he’s paid to do so.

- He’s a pretty demanding person, he wants your attention, affection, anything you can give him. You’re basically inseparable.

- Hugs from behind with his head resting on your shoulder.

- He’s a sexual guy and proud of it so undoubtedly sex will be a part of your relationship.

- It gets him all hot and bothered when you wear his clothes.

- Him “accidentally” touching your boobs and butt. Just blatant groping yet he’ll probably apologize like it was a mistake.

- Wearing one of his rings, most likely on a chain around your neck.

- Flowers and cute but ‘macho’ notes.

- Fighting usually ends up being his fault because he’s a cocky bastard and won’t ever admit he’s wrong. It also doesn’t help that he thinks he can do whatever he wants.

- You tend to give him the cold shoulder. It annoys the everloving fuck out of him because he’s only just now gotten used to and started to rely on your affection. When you’re not giving it to him there’s a lot of tension and stress in his life. People in school suffer since he takes out all his annoyance on them.

- After a little while he’ll man up and apologize, holding out his arms for a hug once he’s finished. He both smugly smile and melts like butter when you wrap your arms around him.

- If you massage his scalp he’ll turn to putty in your hands.

- Skincare with him. Masks, creams, etc; he probably pampers himself more than you do.

- Likes laying his head in your lap and having you read to him.

- Your teachers love you since you tame him in the classes you share with each other.

- Getting him to stop picking on people.

- Helping him with schoolwork. He’s not dumb he just lacks the motivation and focus to actually go through with and finish his assignments.

- He tries his best to calm down with his drinking and partying because he knows you hate when he’s drunk.

- He likes randomly picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder.

- Pestering you is a game he’s good at and one he enjoys.

- His parents probably like you fine enough but your parents probably don’t like him. Not many parents would unless perhaps you just show your mother a picture of him.

- He’s definitely attempted to bribe your teachers into putting you guys in the same classes, teams, and lab groups.

- When he’s alone and actually tries to do well he can be pretty good at drawing.

- If you mention that you like a certain kind of shirt on him he’ll magically own like a dozen more over night.

- He really likes when you gush over and compliment him. It gives him the confidence that he really didn’t need but greatly appreciates. Or maybe it’s just a boost to his already inflated ego.

- Whenever you’re cold all you have to do is snuggle into him, he’s like a human heater and is all smiles when you randomly bury yourself into his chest.

- No one is allowed to interrupt the two of you at lunch without a proper reason unless they want to be made a fool of in front of everybody.

- He has a hard time saying he loves you because he wants to keep up his tough guy reputation but his heart swells everytime you say it. Deep down you know he does.

- You’re the power couple of the school.

#90s movie #90s movie headcanons #90s movie imagine #90s movie headcanon #joey donner #joey donner headcanons #joey donner headcanon #joey donner imagine #10 things i hate about you #10 things i hate about you headcanons #10 things i hate about you headcanon #10 things i hate about you imagine #10 things i hate about you imagines

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sparkliingdust · 4 years

Text

Here’s a bit of Steve Rogers tea I’m going to spill today...

I think the parodies of Steve knowing about future events and trying not to say anything to Peggy are funny....but also stupid when taken to the extent that people actually believe Steve is an encyclopedia of every U.S. event like the Donner party or even JFK’s assassination.

Fans claim that Steve would be too used to today’s technology to want to go back to the 1940s and to discredit his ending in Endgame. We can, or at least I, primarily look to The Winter Soldier for reasons against this.

First, Steve opens up a notepad and pen to keep track of the things people tell him to check out. Of which, he didn’t watch anything nearly close to the 1940s like I Love Lucy (which is always in re-runs) and he did’t check anything mega-popular either like Star Wars or Star Trek. He’s disconnected from both the era that came after his and what the cool kids are into today. It’s also important to note that seconds after he writes down Sam’s suggestion, Nat texts him. Even the most basic cellphone (I still have mine from 2012) has a notepad app. I can’t believe something as harmless as random movies and tvs are something that SHIELD would prohibit him from storing in the phone. So, why doesn’t he use it? Because his whole life isn’t on his phone like it is for us these days, and he’s hugely old-fashioned.

Secondly, we have to think about Steve’s apartment. It’s also a relic of the past - not just the furnishings like a mantle for a would-be fireplace, but the record player, a minimal amount of belongings, books about war, etc. He has a direct connection to Tony Stark and SHIELD (that probably set him up in his apartment), and yet it’s not decked out in the latest gadgets. This reflects not only Hawkeye building a life for himself in Age of Ultron - something he and Tony struggle to do when they’re not working - but also that the Avengers still have their own personal preferences of what makes them comfortable despite the tech they have access to...And Steve shelters himself like he’s in the 1940s as much as possible.

Thirdly, if he hasn’t checked off anything from that list he keeps, what does Steve do in his spare time? We get the impression between the attack in New York to The Winter Soldier, that he works non-stop. And because of the timeline in the film, we don’t get a huge idea of what he does when he’s not on a mission. But, I think it’s relatively the same routine as when Steve sets out after Fury shows him the helicarriers - he goes to his part of the Smithsonian museum, talks to Peggy, visits Sam at a meeting for veterans, and rides around on his motorcycle. All of these things are either reminders of the past (the first three) or something that gives him space from the rest of the world (the last hobby). So, Steve still relatively sees himself as an outsider and finds it hard to acclimate.

We also then have Age of Ultron - Steve has a look of pained yearning when Sam asks about if he found a new place yet (he didn’t) but home is home. Steve’s consideration of where home isn’t necessarily a place - it’s an era or people who remind him of his “origins” as well as a part of himself where he felt most comfortable. By the end, when Tony suggests Steve find a life for himself, he says that he’s home. In the background, we hear military members chanting despite the fact that there is no military training at the Avengers compound. He’s throwing himself back into work training the new Avengers, and pretty much aims to supplant his identity as a soldier into trying to have a normal existence.

This goes a step further into Civil War - he’s officially moved into the compound and gets pretty good with tech. I mean, he knows how to turn on/off a tv, has a computer, etc. On his desk, he has his old drawings from The First Avenger. So, he’s acclimated to living in the compound. But a majority of his plot in Civil War is preserving a part of his past - which is Bucky. But Bucky isn’t a thing - he’s a human being who understands the horrible things he did as the Wnter Soldier, who suggests he shouldn’t be protected from the government for what he did, and who certainly isn’t the same Bucky from the 1940s that Steve wants to constantly go down memory lane with. We can say that Steve found a place in the world - but it’s not exactly balanced or fulfilling.

And then we have Infinity War, where he’s basically just rogue and hiding in the shadows of the world, and Endgame, where he fights the biggest battle he can fight and takes the chance to finally go home.

So, what does Steve actually know about history? I think it’s mostly war-related events. When Fury approaches him in The Avengers, Steve says “When I went under, the world was at war. I wake up, they say we won. They didn't say what we lost.” I think this eludes to the fact that he might’ve learned specific events that happened during and after World War II - the bomb dropped on Nagasaki, Pearl Harbor, Vietnam, Korea War, the War in Iraq, 9/11, etc.

However, what he learned of these things were succinct. Not to say that Steve isn’t intelligent, cultured, or emotionally capable of learning everything...but what would Steve gain learning about the horrors of humanity - or the way that memes make it seem like he memorized 70 years of event? even the triumphs of humanity are either inventions (tech that Steve uses when he has to / whatever’s convenient), politics (which he probably knows enough of to get the gist about) , or personal interests (which we see he has no interest in as far as entertainment is concerned). I mean, he wouldn’t be able to use so many of the finer details in his current life, where he’s basically working non-stop. I don’t see Steve pouring over files of SHIELD when the only ones he had in The Avengers were that of the people who were closest to him - Stark, Carter, The Howling Commandos. And what point would he probably feel like crashing the ice was pretty useless except to stop a part of World War II and didn’t deter so much that came after it?

I think Steve knows but not as much as we do. And a lot of the latter is projection. Antis act as if Steve lived through the things he might’ve picked up on here and there. But that’s impossible. He can’t retroactively relive history when we goes back to the 1940s because he’s not a human Wikpedia. In one of my headcanons, I believe that when Steve returns to Peggy, he uses his reputation as Captain America and his experience as a retired vet to protest the government moving forward - joining people at sit-ins or Martin Luther King Jr in the fight for civil rights because of his friendship with Sam; that he speaks up for homeless vets when Vietnam rolls along; gets into hot water with the government speaking out during the McCarthy era, etc. I feel like as he actually gets to live his life, he still participates actively in history. (which falls into the alternative timeline). And that gives him the opportunity to remain Captain America, just one that gets to put his mind and beliefs to good use instead of just his body.

#my two cents

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siodymph · 4 years

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Hazbin Secret Satan 2020!

Hey @integra9000 I was your Secret Satan! You’re prompt was so cute and I had a lot of fun with it. I hope you enjoy this fic and I hope you have a wonderful holiday season!

Kicking the front doors wide open, I made my way into the Hazbin Hotel.

Finally back home after an insane day at the grocery store. Being Hell, every grocery store was over-crowded and under-stocked. Making every shopping experience feel like Black Friday. And it certainly didn’t help the Charlie had asked for so many things. As I nudged the door behind me, I couldn’t help but sigh in relief. Finally be back in the Hotel.

Finally back home.

With my arms full of groceries, I staggered into the front hall towards the kitchens. Everything inside was dark and quiet. It looked like I was the first one home then.

Earlier Charlie and Vaggie decided to give every demon in the Hotel a job to do. Opening day was fast approaching and there was still a lot they had to do to prepare Hazbin Hotel. Everyone had a task to finish, mine had been going to the grocery store and getting some tons of food so the kitchens would be ready to feed an entire Hotel full of demons.

Hopefully we became as popular as Charlie and Alastor claimed. Otherwise then, we’d have a lot of food going to complete waste.

It was when I started filling up the fridge that I heard it. Music.

And not just any music. Super lame, cheesy, doo-wop music. The kind that probably would be playing in some dinner in the 60’s, where kids would wear poodle skirts and drink milkshakes... or something like that.

I had thought I was home alone, but maybe someone else got back before me. Maybe Niffty?

The music was faint. It sounded like I was coming from one of the upper wings of the Hotel.

At first I tried to ignore it and finish putting away everything I bought. But soon my curiosity got the better of me and I couldn’t resist.

Following the music, I crept silently through the halls and up the stairs. Eventually the music grew louder. I was getting closer.

Eventually I found the source.

Right outside of Husk’s room?

Putting my ear against the wooden door I listened in. It was louder here, louder than anywhere else in the entire building.

But there was more. A voice was singing softly along with the songs. Too quiet to echo through the halls the way the doo-wop had. A voice that was a low, gravely baritone. Could it be-

I silently opened the door a crack and peered in. And sure enough there was Husk, singing along with an old record he had playing at full blast. It was the calmest I’d ever seen him. His eyes closed and there was a tiny smile on his face. It was honestly adorable.

Before I could stop myself I laughed a little. Husk’s eyes immediately shot open. Scrambling up, he tried to turn off his record and he glared at me.

“What the fuck!?” He snapped. “I thought I was the only one here!”

“Sorry,” I said, still laughing slightly. “I just got back.”

“Well, give a guy a warning next time.” Husk grumbled. “Jesus Christ, you almost gave me a heart attack!”

With that, he went back to work. Trying to pretend nothing had just happened. Charlie had asked Husk to hand-write some fancy letters to all of the Hotel’s donners, thanking them and inviting them all to opening night. As he scribbled out notes, I couldn’t help but notice how loud his writing sounded without any music playing.

I was still curious about that.

Leaning up against Husk’s doorway, I asked. “So… what were you listening to?”

“Nothing.” Was Husk’s immediate answer. “I wasn’t listening to anything. Never do.”

“Sure.” I snorted. “Come on, I won’t judge. I promise.”

At first Husk said nothing. He just continued to write, focusing intently on his work. Refusing to look up at me.

When he finally did he gave a sigh in defeat. And as he spoke, a slight blush dusted his cheeks. “Bubblegum Pop. That’s what I was listening to. When I got something boring to do, it helps keep me focused and pass the time. I don’t like that lame crap though, it’s just to keep me busy.”

“Yeah?” I asked. I had defiantly heard him singing before. Not to mention the look that had been on his face when he thought he’d been alone.

“Yeah.” Husk continued. “Now scram, these rich-people letters ain’t gonna write themselves.”

Part of me was about to go. But another part of me just couldn’t drop the subject. Not yet at least.

Instead of leaving, I walked into his room and went over to the desk. “Well, I finished doing my job. So if you like I could help you finish up here.”

Husk thought for a moment. But eventually he shoved a stack of envelopes my way. “Fine, my hand’s getting sore anyways. Make yourself useful and fill out these addresses for me.”

“Sure,” I said, taking the papers in one hand. “Let’s get some jams going first!”

“Hey!”

Before Husk could stop me, I turned back on his record machine and the room was once again filled with loud, cheesy Bubblegum Pop.

Husk groaned into his hands and his face went practically scarlet. “Don’t touch my shit.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t help it.” I replied. Though to be honest, I wasn’t that sorry.

As the music played, I bobbed my head to the beat. Husk grumbled something under his breath but didn’t say anything else. And we began to work in an amiable silence.

A few times when I’d spare Husk a glance, he still had a slight blush on his cheeks.

I wanted to say something. But I wasn’t sure what. The guy was still clearly embarrassed. And even though he looked a little cute that way I didn’t want him to feel like he had to hide the things he liked.

“You know,” I began. “I think I’m digging this doo-wop stuff.”

“You do?” Husk asked. Purposefully trying to seem indifferent.

I nodded. “Yeah, it’s nice… You’ll have to lend me a record sometime.”

“We’ll see about that.” Husk nodded back. Swaying with the music slightly.

The conversation slowed again after that.

I wanted to talk more but I wasn’t sure what to say. Husk was clearly still awkward about his music. But any time I tried to talk he shut down the conversation. But I was still curious, I just needed to find the right phrasing… Then all at once an idea came to me.

“So… Uh, how��d you discover this kinda stuff?”

“Hm?” Husk asked.

“You know, how’d you find Bubblegum Pop?”

“Oh.” Husk thought for a moment before finally answering. “Well, growing up my older sisters loved this kinda shit. Ate it right up. So every time we were home alone and our old man was out, they’d turn up the radio full blast and dance around the house.”

As he talked, he got that soft smile back on his face. It was the sweetest thing.

“You must have really liked your sisters.”

Husk shrugged, “They was assholes, but they were alright. I guess… Had crappy taste in music for sure.”

“If you say so.” I replied.

“Any time I’d do any work in the house they’d be playing their crap. And it was all they listened to. Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past any of them to end up down here for music taste alone.”

“People have been dragged down here for pettier things.” I added.

I looked down at my stack of envelopes. I was almost done now, only had a few papers left. And the same went for Husk when I spared his stack of letters a glance. A mischievous idea came to my head.

Jumping up from my seat, I extended a hand to Husk.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He asked dryly.

“I was about to ask you for a dance.” I said smugly. “But you interrupted me, asshole.”

That made Husk smile a little but stayed seated. “I still got shit to do. You see all these papers?”

“I see that you’re almost done.” I replied with a little snark. I left my hand hanging. I didn’t want to give up, not yet at least.

For a few moments, Husk just looked up at me with a pointed look. But eventually he caved.

“Whatever, but after this we go right back to work.” He huffed, taking my hand.

“Sure thing!” And with that, I tugged on Husk’s hand and pulled him up to his feet.

We weren’t really dancing. Husk mostly swayed on his feet, side to side. But eventually we started making a little circle. Stepping in unison across the room.

“Not much of a dancer?” I asked.

“Hardly.” Husk replied honestly. “I mostly just listen to the music and just- you know, vibe and shit.”

“I could see that.” I honestly could. Husk always had this aloofness to him. Always hiding behind the bar and hugging the walls at parties. We were sorta the same that way.

As the music swelled I got the sudden urge to spin Husk in a circle.

“Woah!” He started, shaking his head slightly after the sudden movement. “The fuck was that?”

“I thought it’d be fun.” I said, “I’ll give you a warning next time.”

“You better.” Husk grumbled.

Despite the attitude though, I noticed that smile had returned to his face one more time and I couldn’t help but grin back.

I was about to say something else.

But then I suddenly felt the back of my neck prickle.

“What sort of shindig is this?” A disembodied voice purred from the corner of the room. “It certainly doesn’t look like letter-writing to me.”

Snapping our heads, Husk and I turned to see Alastor had teleported into the room. Casually draping himself on the chair I’d been using.

“What the fuck does it look like Al?” Husk replied in a testy tone.

“If you ask me, it looks like two fools are cutting a rug. And quite poorly I must say! Where’s the energy? Where’s the panache?”

“Well, no one asked you!” Husk growled.

Alastor blinked a few moments in confusion. “But… you did ask me.”

Before they could start bickering I quickly cut in. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and help us finish these letters. We’re almost done!”

There was a slight gleam in Alastor’s eye as he replied. “Very well. Hand me a quill and let’s get to work! Though I must say, I find it impressive that a job that only needed one person now has three.”

“Fuck off.” Husk grumbled.

Together, we made quick work of the remaining letters.

And as we wrote, cheerful, sickeningly sweet Bubblegum Pop music played.

#integra9000 #hazbin #hazbin hotel #hazbin husk #husk #hazbin alastor #alastor #fan fic #hazbinhotelsecretsatan #hazbinhotelsecretsanta

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notjanine · 3 years

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2020 in books!

the only kind of new year’s resolution i made as a naive baby last january was to try to read 40 books for the year. (i read 37 in 2019, for context.) well, with all of my commuting time eliminated and an increased need for immersive escapism, i ended up surpassing that goal three times over lmao (thanks library ebooks!)

idk how to summarize my year in books in a way that makes sense but

(f) = fiction, (nf) = nonfiction, (p) = poetry.

books that rewired my fucking brain:

braiding sweetgrass by robin wall kimmerer (nf)- GOD?!?!?! good. dr. k is right. ostensibly a book about plants, but actually a book about shut up and go outside. consumerism and capitalism are doing their damnedest to fuck you up, but you can just choose to value different things. take care of yourself by taking care of your environment. etc etc.

wasp by richard jones (nf)- lissen. when i got this book, my wasp-phobia was so severe that i had to put it away face down on a high shelf because there are wasps on the cover and i couldn’t bear to RISK even GLIMPSING them. now i am like... a wasp evangelist. (also due to the bugs 101 course on coursera it’s so good.)

wag by zazie todd (nf)- i have a dog, but i am NOT a Dog Person (i.e. i love my dog, but please keep yours away from me, thanks.) this book helped me understand my little guy better, plus it gives actionable tasks and activities to do with and for your pup! plus, y’know, learning about things you’re scared of helps to lessen that fear. i’d recommend this to anyone who has, wants, or regularly interacts with a dog.

a closed and common orbit by becky chambers (f)- is this series complete fluff? absolutely. am i fundamentally different after reading this one? maybe.

the best we could do by thi bui (nf)- this is so far outside of my personal experience but somehow still made me come to peace with my relationship with my mom?? and it’s barely even about that?? idk. this is probably objectively the best book i’ve read this year.

books that were just fun as hell:

mexican gothic by silvia moreno-garcia (f)- this book made me YELL out loud

death on the nile by agatha christie (f)- i grew up on agatha christie shows, but never actually read her before this year! she really was That Bitch. read this before the movie comes out

cosmoknights by hannah templer (f)- i read this in one sitting through the worst headache i’ve had in years. it is a goddamn DELIGHT. this book has everything: spaceships. mech suits. fighting the patriarchy. a perfect otp. fun art in bright colors with clean lines. onomatopoetic WAPs from before the song gave that hilarious context. 800 lesbians. this is an antidepressant in graphic novel form.

stiff by mary roach (nf)- ms. roach is like the 4th most represented author on my bookshelf because she 1. stays writing about shit i’m interested in and 2. manages to talk about gross and ridiculous things without resorting to sensationalism. it takes skill to write a hilarious book about corpses.

black sun by rebecca roanhorse (f)- excellent sexual tension between a horny siren pirate and a hot doomed... monk, kinda? set in the pre-columbian gulf of mexico with magic and shit.

cuisine chinoise by zao dao (? n/f)- this graphic novel about chinese food history/mythology is BEAUTIFUL.

the color of magic by terry pratchett (f)- you’d think a hardcore douglas adams stan would have gotten to this sooner, but no, i had to date a nerdy white boy to get here. it’s fun though! i’m not gonna read them all, but this one was good. bonus: contains one (1) great himbo.

gideon the ninth by tamsyn muir (f)- like 500 pages of action and mystery and jokes and space necromancy. harrow the ninth gets a special mention bc it has a meme reference that took me out so hard i had to close the book, lie down, and groan for an entire minute before continuing.

other minds by peter godfrey-smith (nf)- i love octopuses. on one tma bonus ep, jonny sims says that if a creature can choose to do evil, then it’s a Person. octopuses are People. but anyway frfr this has an explanation of the evolution of consciousness that is cool af. (this one is much better than the other recent popsci octo book which i will not name out of politeness.)

the perfect predator by steffanie strathdee and thomas patterson (nf)- i read this bc my microbiology prof recommended it and it’s cool as heck! it’s got adventure, drama, mystery, Science-with-a-capital-S. i’m biased bc i’m a bit of a microbes nerd, but i had a blast with this. (but only bc we know going in that everything works out okay; if i hadn’t known that, i would have been TOO stressed!)

books that were a little less fun but still very readable:

my sister, the serial killer by oyinkan braithwaite (f)- i couldn’t find this as funny as other people bc i, too, have a beautiful sister who’s an insufferable narcissist, so it hits a little too close to home, but. it is a wild ride.

piranesi by susanna clarke (f)- idek what to say! i went into this one blind just bc it had a cool cover and title, so i guess i’d recommend that for other people too.

the sixth world series by rebecca roanhorse (f)- monster hunting! a post-apocalyptic take that doesn’t feel tired.

the shades of magic trilogy by v.e. schwab (f)- easy escapism. some ideas feel a little first draft-y, but idk, it’s also a pretty simple premise (which isn’t a bad thing). it’s a decent urban fantasy set in ~georgian?-era london. very actiony. suffers from a bit of i’m-not-like-other-girls disease, but i didn’t even notice until book two or three, so.

the only good indians by stephen graham jones (f)- starts off a little ??? (and reeks of being Written By A Man) but picks up. the pacing’s great and there’s just a super fucking cool monster.

robopocalypse by daniel h. wilson (f)- this reads like a tv miniseries so much that i can’t believe it isn’t one yet.

confessions of the fox by jordy rosenberg (f)- not my usual cup of tea, fiction-wise, but still compelling. a fresh take on the white-male-english-professor-self-insert? but not insufferable. gets weird!

spinning silver by naomi novik (f)- rumplestilstkin, but make it interesting! a great, richly-told fairy tale, but like, large scale. good to read on a cold day while you’re wrapped up in a blanket with some hot tea.

interior chinatown by charles yu (f)- compulsively readable. a couple things bugged me, but not enough to make me dislike it. a fun companion piece to how to live safely in a science fictional universe. i like this guy’s style.

cannibalism by bill schutt (nf)- COOL. mostly covers the animal kingdom (fun), spends too much time on the donner party (less fun), ends with a SPICY take on prions that i cannot get out of my head!!!

buzz, sting, bite by anne sverdrup-thygeson (nf)- BUGS! broad but not overwhelming, neither dumbed down nor overly scientific, short enough to finish in a day or two. recommend this to literally everyone.

books that made me want to read everything else in the author’s ouevre:

the time invariance of snow by e. lily yu (f)- this FUCKS but it’s too short!!!

an unkindness of ghosts by rivers solomon (f)- okay this book is SO good and so well-written and interesting and blah blah blah all the good things, but... the whole time, i was just like?? why???? why is this what you’re choosing to write about??? (i did also read the deep and blood is another word for hunger after this one, and i did like them both, especially the latter, but i think they can do better! like i think they could write a perfect book and i am gonna be *eyes emoji* until then.)

the space between worlds by micaiah johnson (f)- a fine debut novel, but i want to see her do something a little more... idk, refined? i think she overreaches here, like it’s a little... idk looper? this is how you lose the time war? there’s a better comparison, but i can’t think of it, but you get the idea. and then halfway through it shifts gears to mad max. there’s something weird about one of the central relationships, like it’s not complex enough to take as long to resolve as it does. idk idk. there are just a lot of little nitpicky things. it’s not bad! but i think she can do better and i look forward to finding out.

postcolonial love poem by natalie diaz (p)- thinky! like i tried to read this before bed, but it’s not the sort of thing to parse out while you’re falling asleep, it requires more attention than that.

books that Learned Me Somethin:

smoke gets in your eyes by caitlin doughty (nf)- i am a self-professed death obsessed weirdo, fascinated by death and mourning, but i didn’t know all that much about what happens to a body between the dying and the funeral! this book isn’t big, but it covers a lot and doughty’s writing style is engaging and honest. it’s very memorable.

queer by meg-john barker and julia scheele (nf)- i’m gonna be totally honest and say Queer Theory is above my intellectual pay grade, but this book takes you by the hand and explains the basics.

vitamania by catherine price (nf)- LMAO my fellow americans, never take a supplement. this book is great and well-researched, but normal folks don’t need to read it, just listen to season two of the dream podcast, which definitely cribbed from this.

vegetable kingdom by bryant terry (nf)- this is a fine cookbook, my favorite of his that i’ve read so far. gets a special mention bc i had a religious experience just reading one of his kohlrabi recipes. absolutely gutted that i didn’t have an opportunity to try it this year, since the pandemic put the kibosh on all family bbqs.

the best american food writing 2020 edited by j. kenji lopez-alt (nf)- this really is just a great collection.

are prisons obsolete? by angela y. davis (nf)- yes.

i moved to los angeles to work in animation by natalie nourigat (nf)- before reading this, i had basically zero knowledge of how the animation industry works. now i know like three things.

the secret lives of bats by merlin tuttle (nf)- BATS! okay this book is more about the adventures of being a bat scientist than it actually is about bats, but there are bats in there. insectivorous bats basically shit glitter, you should know this.

books from valuable perspectives:

hood feminism by mikki kendall (nf)- a breakdown of who’s getting left out of feminist spaces, why that’s happening, and why it shouldn’t be happening.

all you can ever know by nicole chung (nf)- a (transracial) adoptee’s take on adoption and learning more about her birth family. the personal storytelling of this one really stuck with me.

motherhood so white by nefertiti austin (nf)- a single-mom-by-choice’s take on the foster system/adoption process. walks you through some things i always wondered about and some things i wouldn’t even have thought about.

this place by kateri akiwenzie-damm et al (? n/f)- i, like a lot of non- native americans, only know that history in broad strokes. getting this many highly specific stories in one dense and beautiful book felt like a lucky find. and taking that perspective into the future in the context of that history is v good.

empty by susan burton (nf)- eating disorder stories are important to me bc i care about food so much. this one is so relatable- not in its specificity, but rather its generality. it’s easy to empathize with her perspective because it’s like, Oh, i don’t have that exact problem, but i struggle with different problems in a very similar way. (feels like the opposite of roxane gay’s hunger, in a way.)

obit by victoria chang (p)- this exploration of grief is... woof.

short story collections are hard to evaluate bc you’ll never read one where every single story hits but i generally enjoyed these:

a thousand beginnings and endings edited by ellen oh and elsie chapman (f)

how long til black future month? by n.k. jemisin (f)

her body and other parties by carmen maria machado (f)

books i revisited:

the broken earth trilogy by n.k. jemisin (f)- i read the series backwards this time and like... i can’t really find any faults in these books, man. they’re just the best.

everyone’s a aliebn when ur a aliebn too by jomny sun (f... but is it really?)- half of this book’s sales are from me buying it for other people bc it’s the only way i know how to say i love you. i reread it every time just to make sure it still feels right and it always does.

other honorable mentions:

white is for witching by helen oyeyemi (f)- not to pit two bad bitches against each other, but this book does what akwaeke emezi’s freshwater was trying to do. it’s a little weird, a little haunted, a little of a lot of things. read this only in the dead of winter. (and with stephen rennicks’ score for the little stranger playing in the background.)

homie by danez smith (p)- there’s a lot going on here, but this just made me crack a smile a couple times in a way that no other book of poetry has ever done.

the murder of roger ackroyd and murder in mesopotamia by agatha christie (f)- That Bitch!

blues by nikki giovanni (p)- she sure has some Things To Say

the three-body problem by cixin liu (f)- interesting concepts, but... idk something’s missing? felt weirdly soulless to me. i’m probably not gonna read the sequels. but it did make some points!

the sisters of the winter wood by rena rossner (f)- i’m a slut for shapeshifting, okay. but this is a good fairy tale, it works!

parable of the sower by octavia butler (f)- i read this in march, when the pandemic was just kicking off and boy that was not the right time. def my least favorite of hers so far, but an octavia butler i don’t love is still better than a hell of a lot of other books. no idea when or if i’ll get to a good enough headspace for the sequel.

faves:

saturnino herrán by adriana zapett tapia (nf)- i got to learn new things about my mans and see some of his paintings i’ve never even seen online! GOSH.

on food and cooking by harold mcgee (nf)- yeah yeah, i’ve already mentioned this book half a dozen times on here this year, but i don’t care. this book lives off the shelf in my home bc i reference it like every other fucking day. this book is a part of me now.

#long post #final total for the year will be 120 by the end of the day!#and i had a pretty good hit rate. would probably recommend at least half #and only outright hated four

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raywritesthings · 5 years

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Out of the Dark

My Writing Fandom: Arrow, The Flash Characters: Laurel Lance, Barry Allen, Oliver Queen, Sara Lance, Adam Donner, Thea Queen, Felicity Smoak, John Diggle Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: On his way to the train station out of Starling City, Barry Allen comes across a Laurel Lance who has reached her breaking point. An offer of friendship changes the course of events in unexpected ways. Notes: WARNING - Suicide Attempt and Discussion of Suicide. If you or someone you know is feeling suicidal, especially as the holidays approach, please don’t hesitate to reach out, whether to a friend or a professional or an organization. The International Bipolar Foundation, for instance, contains a list of suicide hotlines for a number of different countries on their website. *Can be read on my AO3 and FFN, links are in my bio*

A small commotion near the entrance of the offices caused Laurel to look up, the first time she’d done so since arriving that day and most of the preceding week. Keeping your head down after losing a huge case was standard protocol, after all.

“Adam! Good to see you!”

“On your feet already?”

“This is just a visit,” said Adam Donner, her immediate superior. “I wanted to let you all know I was doing fine before the holidays.”

The holidays? It was really that time already, wasn’t it? She’d completely forgotten. Not that it mattered much; she had no plans.

Laurel stood, smoothing down her skirt as she went to join the small crowd of her coworkers. As awkward as things had turned the previous month with the dinner they had shared, she didn’t want him to think she was upset to see him recovered from the Count’s attack. “Adam, I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Thanks, Laurel. Hey, uh, good try on the case.”

Her attempt at a smile turned to a grimace. Every time she thought of Moira Queen’s trial it brought a queasy mix of emotions. Frustration, guilt, relief and even confusion.

“It was open and shut,” a voice near the back of the crowd muttered and a titter of laughter went around the room. There was the shame in that mix, too.

Of all the things she had left to hang onto, it was her skill at her job. And she had let an accomplice to the murder of 503 people walk. It didn’t matter that a part of her was glad; the law had required her to do her job and she had failed. They all knew it.

“I hear Queen’s having a big party for his mother tonight. Figures they’d want to gloat,” said another coworker.

“It’s not to gloat, it’s just their holiday tradition,” Laurel couldn’t help disputing. Oliver would never do something that brazen, at least, not the Oliver who had come back the previous year from that island.

“Yeah? Guessing you didn’t get an invite this year.”

Another round of laughter went up.

“Alright people,” Kate Spencer’s voice announced her arrival. “Adam, thanks for coming in. My office, we’ll talk about the next assignments coming through.” Their boss walked away, not even sparing Laurel a glance. Kate had never liked her, even back when Laurel had been at CNRI.

She returned to her own desk, trying to shut out the whispers that followed, that had been following her the last several days. Why had the Count chosen Adam of all people to attack? Why couldn’t he have been the one to question Moira on the stand, to help shoulder some of this failure?

Or maybe he wouldn’t have failed. That thought seized her heart in an icy grip. Then Oliver and Thea would be planning a memorial service instead of a party. Neither of which she would ever be welcome at again.

She understood. How could either of the siblings want anything to do with her after what had happened in the courtroom? Even if Oliver had checked on her after, that was probably just out of courtesy. They’d promised to stay in each other’s lives — he’d promised to never leave even when that was all he ever did — but it couldn’t stand something like what she’d done. It was better that he just give up now. She’d rather just get it over with.

Laurel worked until it was dark. It was mostly just moving folders around and filing notes. She hadn’t been given anything serious to do since the Queen case, and she doubted she would be for some time. She’d joined the DA’s office because she’d seen it as her best way forward after losing CNRI, but each day it grew harder to get out of bed in the morning. Once the people who shared the open floor in her office had all signed out and left for the night, she got out the bottle she kept in her desk. It was easier to just have it on hand, especially since her father had been snooping into her business and was on a first name basis with almost any bartender in Starling City. Even if he was conveniently forgetting why that was in his pursuit to police his own daughter.

Why couldn’t he understand what she was going through? If anyone should, it would be him. She hadn’t seen him since that bizarre visit he had made to her apartment going on about her becoming a parent some day. Laurel snorted before finishing her glass. Like that was happening anytime soon. Or ever.

Kate’s door opened and Laurel hastily stashed the bottle away, almost fumbling the cap. Adam was the only one who emerged, and he blinked in surprise at her.

“Burning the midnight oil? It’s nearly Christmas.”

“Crime never sleeps.”

“Yeah, but you should. Come on, you can walk me out.”

With little room to say no, Laurel stood, hesitating when he held out her coat for her to step into. She couldn’t exactly snatch it from his hands, however, so she let him help her with it.

“There should be a taxi waiting for me. Doctors say I should wait a few more days before operating heavy machinery,” he told her. “Do you need a lift?”

“No, thank you.” Laurel hadn’t brought her car — after being stopped by that cop, she was a little leery of driving — but she did not want to confine herself to small quarters with Adam.

He favored her with an understanding smile. “Hey, we all have our early losses. It’ll all blow over. We’ll find something new to work on.”

Laurel nodded with a tight smile. A taxi pulled up to the curb.

“This is me.” He leaned to the side of her then, and she jerked back just as his lips barely brushed her cheek.

“Sorry.” Why was she apologizing?

“No, that’s alright. I didn’t mean — well, it’s the holidays. Merry Christmas, Laurel.”

She couldn’t answer him, her mind stuck on a Christmas only a year ago where a different man had kissed her cheek and wished her well for the holidays. It didn’t feel like a year ago; it felt like an age.

The taxi honked, and Adam got inside. It pulled away, leaving her out in the cold.

Laurel started walking, though not back to her apartment. She didn’t feel like going back there right away, disgusted as she was with herself. How many times had she represented women who felt uncomfortable in their workplace because of coworkers or superiors, and now here she was stuck in the same trap? Too scared to say anything for fear of losing the only purpose she had left. Assuming she would ever be given anything of purpose again. Her mind was chasing itself around in circles.

She didn’t want Mrs. Queen to be dead, but she wanted the city to feel that justice had been done. She wanted justice for Tommy.

But then, Moira Queen hadn’t helped to kill Tommy. Tommy was only gone because of her. Even her father hadn’t disagreed with her about that. He hadn’t said a word.

Laurel sagged against the railing she’d been using off and on to support herself. It was only now that she realized she was on the footpath of one of their bridges, heading towards the Glades. Maybe she could sneak into the Verdant for a drink while Thea and Oliver were both celebrating with their family and friends. Her father probably wouldn’t find out if she’d been there.

Was this what her life was now? Skirting around the corners of the people she knew and cared for? Stuck on the outside while they moved on with their lives? They wanted her to be happy like them, but she just couldn’t be. What was wrong with her?

Her hands found a little latch, and she stared at it for a moment. Someone had hitched a lock onto part of the railing. There were a few of them, actually. One was painted with a fading heart.

Oh. She remembered hearing about these. Love locks. She studied each one intently. Some were plain, some had pairs of initials written or painted on them. Little mementos to love that these people had.

She thought of Tommy, his declaration and the suitcase he’d packed anyway. She thought, too, of a tear-stained letter sitting in a drawer at her apartment. Never doubt my love for you. Oh, but she did.

Oliver had called her a hero, but he could see now she wasn’t. When had she ever really saved anyone? It was always someone else coming in, having to help her. The Hood, who probably hated her; her father, who was disappointed in her; Tommy, who had died because of her.

“I’m so sorry, Tommy,” she whispered to no one. Her head rested on the rail and she stared for a while at the water rushing by below. There was something almost hypnotic about it, knowing where it flowed out into the bay and joined the ocean, to the same water that had swallowed up Sara. The daughter who had died while she was the daughter who lived.

Lived instead of Sara, lived instead of Tommy. And for what? It would’ve been better for her to perish in the quake, or maybe at the prison riot or when the Triad had attacked her home, so she wouldn’t have broken Tommy’s heart. Maybe she should have been the one on that boat so her mother wouldn’t have felt so guilty and left, so her dad would still have his baby girl and not felt such a need to drink, so she wouldn’t be carrying this terrible guilt and loneliness within her heart.

She’d been drowning all these years anyway in those swirling dark depths.

Laurel lifted her head from the rail. The night air was whipping her hair around her face, but it was as if the chill couldn’t touch her now. Could she really just…?

What else did she have to lose? She swallowed, the film of alcohol feeling thick on her tongue. What left was there? She could wait around and let herself be shunned out of the DA’s office by Kate Spencer and her disapproving looks or by Adam when she turned him down one too many times. She could wait for her father’s mood to turn sour towards her again, as it always did ever since the Gambit had sunk. She could wait until Oliver felt like trying to talk to her again, those quick little bursts in between days or weeks of nothing, like she was a pot on the stove he checked every once in a while to make sure it didn’t boil over.

She was tired of waiting for things. Tired of everything. Laurel couldn’t see any other way forward, not on this cold December night.

It didn’t even enter her mind to leave a note. No one would find it for days, probably. And they just wouldn’t understand. Oliver had fought all those years to survive and come home. There was something I wanted more. He didn’t want her anymore. No one did. How would he understand her choice?

They could all pretend she had just slipped away quietly from the city. No body, no need for her dad to pay the funeral expenses. He was making less on a beat cop’s salary. Better for him not to have to buy the land for another empty grave. Better for everyone. It was her Christmas present to them all; not to have to deal with her anymore.

She stepped onto the lower half of the rail, her left heel getting caught in the spokes. Growling under her breath, she wriggled her foot around, trying to free it. She couldn’t take the shoe off: evidence.

Her hands gripped the rail, pulling herself up. The water was a roar in her ears drowning out everything. Even a distant shout.

“Hey!”

Laurel closed her eyes.

And then she was abruptly seized from behind.

—-

Barry was running late, as always.

After Captain Singh’s rather pointed phone call, he had left Felicity behind at Queen Consolidated to try and catch a train out to Central. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to make it, especially since he’d so far failed at flagging down the few taxis he’d spotted. Hardly anyone was out tonight, and why would they be? It was late, dark and cold, and the holidays were nearly upon them.

Barry was forced to revise his statement as he drew up to an intersection leading to a bridge. There was someone else out tonight besides him after all. A woman, standing at the railing and looking out at the water. Actually, she was very close to the rail. Almost too close.

She put her foot up onto it, and it clicked in his brain.

“Oh no,” Barry said to himself, and then he started running, his suitcase forgotten.

“Hey!”

The woman didn’t even startle at his shout. She was half leaned over the rail already.

With a burst of speed he hadn’t thought himself capable of and a stitch developing in his side, Barry cleared the footpath and raced down to the middle of the bridge. He did the first thing he could think of, which was to throw his arms around her middle.

It was maybe the wrong move.

Immediately she tried throwing him off her with a surprising amount of strength for someone so thin. It was all he could do to hold on so as to keep her from toppling over.

“Let go!”

“Sorry, really don’t want to do that!”

An elbow smashed into his face, narrowly missing his nose where it no doubt would have broken it. Barry staggered back but managed to keep his grip on the woman, with which his leverage was able to do the rest. She came off the rail, falling in a heap on top of him as he landed on his back in the footpath.

Her head lifted, eyes bleary and bloodshot. “What? Who- who are you?”

“Are you okay?” Barry asked once he got his breath back. He struggled to sit up. “Well, no, you’re not. But I meant, you’re not hurt?”

Her head shook slowly. Her breath smelled of alcohol, and he could tell now looking at her facial structure that she really was too thin.

“Can you tell me your name? I’m Barry,” he added, figuring it was best he went first.

“Laurel,” she answered.

“Laurel,” he repeated, “hi. Can you, um, tell me what you were doing out here? I mean why you wanted to…” Barry cringed at his own inability to say it, but her eyes followed his to the bridge railing.

“I, um. I was just…”

Like a switch went off in her brain, she was suddenly clinging to him desperately.

“I don’t know what I was— I don’t want to die, oh God!”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he did his best to reassure her. Truthfully he felt incredibly relieved she’d come to that decision on her own.

“I don’t want to die, I just- I just wanted everything to stop,” she cried into his coat. Barry rubbed at her back and tried to think of something more meaningful to say.

“I’m sorry things are — well, you’re clearly having a rough time. Can I get you to somewhere? A family member or, or maybe the hospital?”

“No.” She shook her head and clutched onto him tighter. “I can’t— if my job found out, they’d put me on leave or suspend me. And I can’t put this on my father, I can’t.”

“Okay,” he agreed, hoping to calm her. “We don’t have to go anywhere.” She was shivering in his arms, though. “Maybe just somewhere to sit down? Come on.”

Barry helped her up and kept their arms linked as they walked off the bridge and back to the intersection. His suitcase had fallen onto its side, so he righted it and started wheeling it along behind them.

“Don’t you need to find a hotel?” She asked quietly, her voice sounding thick but her tears at last subsiding.

“No. Actually, I was on my way home.”

She looked back in the direction of the train station. “But you’ll miss the last one.”

“I probably already did. It’s okay, I don’t mind.”

He walked them around in circles a few times before finding a tiny cafe with their ‘open’ sign still lit up. Barry ushered her inside and to a table. He ordered a black coffee for her and a latte for himself, figuring she needed about as much caffeine as possible to fully sober up. She didn’t complain when he passed it to her, at the least, just cupped her hands around it and stared into the dark liquid.

“How much was it?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

She frowned didn’t argue. He must have been firm enough, or maybe she was just too overwhelmed with the choice she’d almost made. The latter sounded more believable.

Barry sat and sipped at his latte, watching for her to do the same with her coffee. She grimaced as it went down.

“Sorry.”

“It’s not the worst cup I’ve had,” she remarked. Then her lip trembled and she grabbed a napkin to wipe at her eyes with. “God, you must think I’m a basket case. You really don’t have to stay with me.”

“Well, I think someone should,” he told her honestly. “And you won’t go to your family, so it may as well be a friend.”

“Trust me, you don’t want to be my friend.”

“I feel like there’s gotta be someone in your life who would tell you that’s not true.”

She placed her coffee down and rubbed her hands over both temples. “The people in my life...they come and go when they feel like it. Or, um, when they need something. And I finally got sick of it, so I just pushed them all away. It’s not really their fault,” she added when he opened his mouth. “I’m not an easy person to be around, I guess. I’m emotional, clingy, stubborn. I take on more than I can handle, and then I need rescuing.”

“Have they said that?”

“Not in that many words. But I know there’s something wrong with me.” She said it so matter-of-factly it stunned him. Then, past the shock there was pain. How could someone have become so convinced of something like that?

“Would you still believe that once you’re sober?”

She exhaled on a shaky laugh. “I wish I could say no. I wish I could say I wouldn’t have done, well, that either. But I have a problem. I do, I can’t just ignore it anymore.”

“You said you wanted everything to stop,” Barry reminded her. “Is there a lot going on in your life right now?”

“Yes and no,” she sighed. “I, um, lost someone. Last spring in the Glades.”

“I’m sorry.” Barry had watched the news coverage. So had everyone. It had been hard to conceptualize that much destruction but now he was faced with the aftermath on an intensely personal level.

“It was...it could have been avoided.” Her gaze was back on her coffee cup. “And afterwards, I thought maybe I could keep going. I had, um, well I thought I had something with an old friend. But he left, and when he finally came back I just pushed him away. I pushed everyone away. And I don’t know how to fix that.”

“Well, maybe you should take some time off. I know you’re worried about your job, but it’s around the holidays anyway. You could take a couple days and just figure things out. Maybe visit somebody.”

She shook her head. A smile that was bitter twisted her lips. “I don’t have anyone to visit.”

“No extended family? College friends?” Barry wasn’t ready to give up trying.

“Just a mom who lives in Central.”

He face lit up with a smile. “Hey, that’s my city!”

“Really?”

“Yeah! And it’s great there, especially around the holidays. They put a big tree up and the streets are all lined with lights. There’s a lot to do.”

“You work for the tourism board or something?”

He grinned. If she wanted to make jokes at his expense, that was fine. Joking was much better than the defeated tone she’d had before. “Nope. People from out of town say we’re all like this. Have you been to your mom’s?”

She shook her head.

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

“I only found out she was staying there less than a year ago,” she told him. “It’s a long story.”

“You seem to have a lot of those.”

She let out a watery chuckle, wiping at her eyes. “Yeah.” Her hands came away stained with mascara. “Do you mind if I go to the ladies’ for a second?” She stood up, but paused at the table. “I promise I’m not gonna do anything stupid.”

“Okay,” Barry agreed slowly. He wasn’t an expert in this, but he thought he ought to show her some trust. She stood up on much steadier legs and went down the little hallway in the back. Barry hunched over and placed his head in his hands. Breathing in and out helped to bring down the stress he’d barely been hiding.

He knew, of course, this sort of thing happened. Especially around the holidays. Officers at the precinct trained for it, how to de-escalate the situation and keep the person from doing harm to themselves. He had no idea if he was following the right protocol, and despite the late hour he badly wanted to call Joe for some advice.

Barry checked his watch as the barista went into the back storeroom for something. It had been a few minutes. Should he check on her? Listen at the door? Was that wrong?

His worrying abruptly cut off when, out of nowhere, a dart embedded itself into his neck and he lost consciousness.

Barry awoke in a chair in a darkened room, Felicity Smoak swimming into view in front of him. “Wha—?”

His head jerked around. There was Oliver Queen’s bodyguard and something on a table. Rows and rows of green-tipped arrows. The Vigilante. This had to be his base.

But where— what had happened to Laurel? How long had he been out? Had anyone checked on her? Oh God—

“Barry.” Felicity had stepped forward and forcefully took hold of his hands to redirect his focus. “Please save my friend.”

Her friend, as it turned out, was Oliver Queen. Oliver Queen, as it turned out, was also the vigilante.

The next several minutes were a blur. Oliver was close to death, and the only treatment available was risky at best. The rat poison got him to stop flailing, thankfully, and after a while his vitals came back stable.

“Okay. Keep monitoring him,” Barry told Felicity and Diggle. “I just have to go back—”

“Back where?” Felicity cried. “Barry, we found you in a cafe instead of the train station. Would have taken us forever by the way if I hadn’t pinged your phone.”

“You pinged my phone?” Barry blinked. That wasn’t important right now. “Okay, well there’s sort of an important—”

“This is important. This is Oliver’s life we’re talking about here!”

“What if he starts seizing again while you’re gone?” Diggle pointed out with a frown.

Barry deflated. He didn’t want to have to choose between two people, but the likelihood Laurel was even still at the cafe was probably slim. And he couldn’t exactly explain to the other two the situation; they clearly hadn’t seen her and might not even believe him. To their eyes, it probably looked like he was trying to sneak away so he could tell the authorities about all of this.

So he slumped back into his chair.

Oliver eventually woke up and was remarkably rude for someone who’s life Barry had just saved. Then he and the others still needed help tracking down Cyrus Gold. When Barry did finally have a quiet moment to himself, he jogged back to the little cafe. There were other patrons there now, but no Laurel. He jogged over to the bridge and didn’t find anything of note there either, though if she had come back here hours ago...his insides squirmed.

Barry was called back to administer a test on Oliver’s blood to see if anything was still in his system. He worried over both problems for a time, occupying his hands with molding a mask out of tripolymer fabric for Oliver.

There was nothing in Oliver’s blood but he still had to go face Cyrus Gold a final time. Barry’s phone had been going off with calls and texts from first Joe and then Iris, which he couldn’t really ignore forever. He finally left Felicity and Diggle in their base and got on the train, getting out his Harrison Wells biography to try and clear his mind.

Had he done enough? Did Laurel really believe there were things or people in her life worth going on for? What if he’d failed?

These worries plagued him through the whole day. He couldn’t come up with anything substantial to tell Iris about his trip. He couldn’t stop the guy who stole her purse and got hit in the face for his trouble. He could barely concentrate on the coverage of the particle accelerator on the news in his lab.

Instead, he took out his phone and dialed Felicity to let her know he’d made it back and to inform her about the gift he’d left behind for Oliver. Though as he thought about the vigilante, an idea came to him.

“Actually, if I could ask Oliver a favor?”

“What kind of favor?”

“It’s a personal one.” He didn’t exactly feel comfortable relating something so sensitive through a game of telephone. “Could you give him the phone?”

“Okay,” Felicity said after a short pause. He heard her calling to Oliver, slightly muffled.

A few moments later, he heard the man’s voice. “The favor?”

Right to the chase, okay. “Um, yeah. I was hoping you could — I mean, I know it’s not really your area of what you normally do with your night job and it might be a little hopeless—”

“Barry,” Oliver said, indicating he was meant to wrap it up.

“When Felicity and Diggle went to get me, I was in a cafe.”

“They told me.”

“Right, well I was there instead of waiting for a train because I- I met somebody. Somebody who was having kind of a rough time. And I’m worried about her.”

There was a pause. “Barry, I’m not really sure what you’re asking me to do here.”

He dragged a hand through his hair in frustration. This was a lot harder to just come out and say than he’d thought. “I’m asking you to find out if she’s okay, because when I met her she was trying to go over the bridge, Oliver.”

“Oh.” It was more a soft exhalation than the word itself. “I’m sorry they pulled you away from that.”

“Yeah, well, you did need medical attention. I just didn’t know how to find her after, and I guess I’m hoping you can.” Maybe the Arrow wasn’t most people’s first choice to run wellness checks, but Barry felt Oliver did truly care about the citizens of his city. Even if he hid that under a hood.

“Did you have her address? A family contact?” Oliver asked only moments later, proving Barry right.

He shook his head, then realized that wasn’t very productive. “No, she was pretty adamant not to involve her family. Her father, she said that specifically,” he remembered. “I wish I’d been able to get a picture of her for you or something, but I only have the name she gave me: Laurel.”

The line went dead silent on the other end for a long moment, long enough that Barry lifted the phone away from his ear to check if the call was still going. It was. “Oliver?”

“You—” Oliver had to pause and try again; his voice had cracked. “You’re sure she said Laurel?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I have to go.” There was a sound on the other end, some kind of muffled thump and then Felicity’s voice rather close calling Oliver’s name — he must have passed the phone back to her.

“Barry, what’s going on? Why did Oliver say Laurel’s name?”

“Uh…” He wasn’t sure what to say in the face of evidence that Oliver and his team knew a Laurel. Was she the same one Barry had met? The same lonely, desperate woman who didn’t seem to think her loved ones would have missed her much or cared? What did that say?

“It’s probably best he tells you,” Barry eventually decided. It wasn’t his place. At the least, Oliver knew exactly how to find Laurel and could make certain she was alright. That eased some of his worry. “I should get off the phone.” He was waiting on Joe’s call for a ride from the precinct, after all. “Goodbye, Felicity.”

She said her goodbye as well, and Barry put away his phone. Maybe now his conscience would be eased, especially if Oliver let him know what he found out.

Of course, Barry would end up having to wait a very long time for that.

—-

Oliver changed and left the base without opening Barry’s gift or answering either of his team member’s questions. There was only one thought in his mind: she was trying to go over the bridge, Oliver.

His heart was in his throat as he reached apartment 305 and knocked on the door. “Laurel? Please, if you’re at home, can you open the door?”

He couldn’t hear anything. Oliver took out his phone, noticing one missed call from Felicity already. He ignored the notification and instead called Laurel’s cell phone.

After a few rings, it sent him to her voicemail. “Hi, this is Laurel. I’m either at work or otherwise unavailable. Leave your name and number with a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

“Laurel, it’s Oliver. Please call me.” He didn’t bother with his number. He knew she had it.

When a second round of knocking at her door produced no response, he went to the outside of the building and it’s fire escape. This was the first time he’d ever entered this way without his vigilante suit on, but he’d explain himself after he saw her.

Except Laurel wasn’t home. He couldn’t find anything out of place. There wasn’t any food sitting out abandoned or something big and obvious missing. It just looked like she had stepped out for some indeterminate amount of time.

Like forever.

He was dialing her number again before he realized, and it rang and rang. Ringing was good. It meant her phone was on and working. It wasn’t broken in a fall or dead in the water.

“Still Oliver. Just, whenever you can, Laurel, please.”

He took his bike over to the DA’s office, but it was clear at this time of night, no one was there. All the lights were off. He still slipped inside to have a look. Her desk was tidy. It didn’t look like anything was wrong.

But Laurel didn’t normally have a tidy desk. It was covered in papers and post it notes and pens, some of which bore bite marks on the lid. A tidy desk looked normal on the outside, but it spoke of something wrong to someone who really knew her.

Just like Laurel’s behavior had been the last two months. He’d tried to push his worries about it aside when she pushed back. He’d told himself he it wasn’t his place. Lord, what had he done?

His phone rang, and he scrambled to pick it up. “Laurel?”

“No, Felicity. You know, the girl you left behind in the base along with John without any kind of explanation?”

Oliver grit his teeth as he walked back out to his bike. “I don’t have time.”

“We’re your team, we’re supposed to help you when you don’t have time. So what’s this about Laurel? Is she okay?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted in a small voice. “I can’t — can you trace her phone? I have one more lead I can follow.”

“Okay,” Felicity agreed, though he could hear her frustration at not being given the answers she’d wanted. He just couldn’t say it out loud, he wasn’t ready to put the words out there. To possibly make them real.

Oliver parked his bike outside of Starling General, sneaking his way past the front desk to head up to Lance’s room. He already knew the location, having visited him as the Arrow only hours ago. Hours that could have been crucial to someone they both cared for. Hours they hadn’t realized they were taking for granted.

Whatever guilt he felt about possibly waking the man up dissipated when Quentin Lance immediately blinked his eyes open at his entrance. His injuries were likely making sleep hard to come by. The guilt returned tenfold.

“...Queen? What’re you doing here?” There was confusion more than anything in his voice.

“I’m sorry, Officer Lance. I just was wondering if you’d seen Laurel in—” his heart dropped as he realized just how long it had been since he’d seen her himself. “—the last week or so? I wanted to see how she was doing. I know the holidays have been, uh, hard for you both.”

Lance snorted, or tried to. “Yeah, this one’s not looking to be any better. They called her after I was checked in. She’s my contact. They said she was having trouble getting here. Something about a train.”

“A train?” Oliver couldn’t help the sharpness in his voice. What would Laurel have been around a train for, unless—?

“Yeah, they said something about it...you alright?”

“I— yes, I’m fine. Thank you, Officer Lance.”

“Yeah, well, never thought I’d say this, but I’m glad she’s got you looking out for her.”

Oliver could only offer a tight, closed-lipped smile that probably barely passed muster before fleeing the room.

He hadn’t done enough to look after her. And he could blame her anti-Hood stance or the court case against his mother all he wanted, but in the end he’d asked Laurel to be in his life without really offering her the same. He’d been a coward, too afraid she might judge him for the mistakes he’d made since coming back from the island. With each mission he took on at night, each secret he kept, it became easier to just hold her at arm’s length. He hadn’t meant to, but he’d left her all alone.

Had he left her to drown?

Oliver stopped outside the hospital, leaning against the wall and sliding down to sit, his head in his hands. He couldn’t bare the idea of checking, of calling it in. What it would do to her family and to him. He couldn’t lose her like this, God. He wasn’t sure if he was pleading or praying.

His phone rang twice before he had the presence of mind to pick it up. “...hello?”

“Oliver, you sound terrible. What is happening?” Felicity demanded.

“Did you find something?” He asked, wiping furiously at his cheeks wet with tears.

“I did. I’m just not sure — her phone says she’s at the Central City train station.”

It took a moment to process. “Central?”

“Yes.”

The nurses had told Lance something about a train, that she was having trouble getting to the hospital because of it. Ticket trouble. Or scheduling. Something gloriously mundane.

Just as his heart started to beat normally again, Felicity continued. “But it’s not a good place to be right now. I checked the news. Oliver, the particle accelerator that launched tonight exploded.”

“Exploded?”

“The whole city’s lost power. I- I can’t reach Barry,” Felicity added in a trembling voice. “He’s just not answering.”

The same way Laurel wasn’t.

Oliver took a deep breath and pushed up onto his feet. “I’ll see what I can find out.”

“Oliver—”

“I’m going there.” If Laurel was there, then that was where he needed to be. He hung up, neither ready nor willing to participate in a drawn out argument.

Barry had talked Laurel out of it, that much was clear. For that, he would always be grateful to the scientist, no matter what had become of him in this explosion.

But Laurel’s fate may still have been cruelly decided. A chill that had nothing to do with the December air went through him at the thought, sinking into his very bones.

He had to get to her. Do whatever he could. Try, completely this time. He might never get the chance again.

—-

Laurel groaned as she sat up, trying to shake the ringing in her ears. It nearly covered up the sound of approaching sirens, but then as those got louder they blended together making everything hurt worse.

She had to laugh at herself. She really did have the worst ideas. The laugh turned into a cough as she rubbed at her throat. Ugh, why did that have to hurt, too? She must have really shouted when that train…

“Never listen to a Jiminy Cricket before Christmas,” she managed to grumble to herself.

At least, that’s what she’d decided the tall, lanky man named Barry had been. A figment of a Good Samaritan she’s made up for herself, who had disappeared the minute she had turned her back with only a half-drunk latte to prove he might have once been there. It could have been anyone’s, really. She’d been half-drunk when they’d stumbled into the little shop.

Laurel had chosen to take Barry’s advice and get out of her normal routine for a couple of days. She hadn’t said anything to anyone before packing; in the sober light of day, she was ashamed and terrified of what she had almost done and knew the others would feel the same with a healthy dash of disappointment. She just had to keep moving, even if nothing ever got better.

Laurel had packed an overnight bag and boarded an early train to Central by the time Thea’s text had come through asking if she could stop by the house to help her and her friends with something. Laurel had felt a pang of regret but written back that she wasn’t able to for a couple of days. Thea had said that was fine and wished her a happy holiday. Laurel had been glad no one she knew was around to see her eyes water at that simple sentiment. Thea probably hadn’t known just how much that meant to her.

She’d arrived in Central in daylight, so the strings of lights down the streets had not been lit. Still, for a city, it held the feel of a small town somehow, everyone smiling and happy. She’d found herself able to breathe easier because of it. At least until it had started to get dark and she’d known she needed to either find or hotel or head to her mother’s.

Laurel had the address written down on a scrap of paper from one of the last times they’d talked. If she’d gone there, would she have been able to tell her mother what had almost happened?

It hadn’t come to it. She had gotten a call.

“May I speak to Dinah Lance?”

“This is her daughter,” Laurel had responded automatically, her mind having still been on her mother.

“We have a Dinah L. Lance listed as the emergency contact for Officer Quentin Lance?”

“Oh! Yes, that’s me. You — is this the hospital?”

“Yes. Your father was admitted early this evening due to sustaining injuries in a raid. He’s in surgery.”

Laurel’s hand had gone over her mouth. “Will he be alright?”

“He came in in better condition than some of the other members of the unit,” the desk nurse had told her. “The doctors will know more later. You’re welcome to come wait to speak to them.”

Laurel had looked around herself, feeling totally helpless as she’d admitted. “I’m six-hundred miles away. I- I took a trip.”

Why did every decision she made end up hurting someone she cared about?

“That’s alright. We’ll let him know.”

“No, tell him I’m on my way back. I’ll be on the next train, I promise.”

She’d hurried back to the train station, finding it full of last-minute travelers for the holidays. After standing in line for what had felt an age, it had finally been her turn.

“I need a one-way ticket for the first train that gets to Starling.”

“You missed the previous one by fifteen minutes,” the person at the booth had informed her, and Laurel had barely held in a curse. “Next one comes in an hour.”

“Okay, fine, that one. Please.”

She’d stood on the platform with a handful of others, her arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently. A television mounted in one corner near the ceiling had displayed a news woman in what had appeared to be a growing storm outside.

“Wait, we're now being told to evacuate the facility. The storm may have caused a malfunction to the primary cooling system. Officials are now trying to shut down the particle accelerator, but so far, have been unable to regain control of the system—”

Abruptly, the TV and then the lights had cut out. Yelps of surprise and alarm had gone up throughout the building.

There’s been a tremendous boom from outside, and Laurel’s hair had stood up on the back of her neck.

The horn of the approaching train had been a loud blare as it had turned the corner into the station, driving blind in the total dark. Laurel had been jostled as people had pushed at each other in a blind panic to move as far back as possible. She’d tripped and cried out as a strange, translucent ripple of something had knocked into her, throwing her off her feet, and then—

She’d woken up on the same train platform.

“Alright, folks, the generator should kick in in a minute,” a voice called out. Flashlight beams danced over them all. Then there was a flicker and a hum, and Laurel was blinking back spots in her vision from the sudden flood of light.

“Any more injuries?” The same voice asked next.

Laurel looked herself over. Aside from the soreness and the ringing that was slowly fading away, she didn’t think she needed a hospital. One leg of her pantyhose had scraped in the fall; they resembled fishnets more than anything else.

Laurel heard a new ringing, this time coming from her pocket. She took out her phone, surprised to see the notification that she had four missed calls already and two messages. The fifth call was still was still ringing: Ollie.

Laurel hit the accept button and cleared her throat. “Hello?”

“Laurel!” It was a shout, but not one of anger or frustration. She wasn’t sure the last time she’d heard Oliver sound so relieved and overjoyed at once. “Oh, thank God.”

“Ollie?”

“Are you still at the train station?”

“I — how did you know that?”

“Laurel, where are you?”

“Yes, I’m at the station. In Central City,” she added, though for some reason he seemed to already know that.

Her suspicion was confirmed when he said, “I’ll be there in eight and a half hours.”

“Why?”

There was a pause. “Laurel, there was an explosion.”

“I know that. I just—” It didn’t make sense, how intensely he cared and then the distance he would immediately put up after. “I’m okay. I just had a fall.”

And her throat felt funny, but that was likely a cold more than anything.

“Get checked out at the hospital.”

“Oliver—”

“Please? I’ll cover anything your insurance doesn’t.” He really was pleading, she realized. He was borderline hysterical.

“Okay,” she agreed hesitantly.

“Thank you. I’ll be there as soon as I can. I — please stay safe.”

He hung up. Laurel sat there, blinking at her phone, until a man in a paramedic’s uniform came over to her.

“You alright, miss?”

“I think so? My, uh, friend thinks I should head to the hospital. I fell when the power went out.”

He nodded. “Alright, we’ll make sure you get checked out.”

Laurel was taken over to Central City General along with a number of others. A small clinic-style area had been set up to one side where a nurse shined a light in her eyes and had her follow her finger around.

“Any headache or nausea?”

“Not really. Just a sore throat.”

“Hm.” The nurse got out a tongue depressor and looked in her mouth with a flashlight, then felt around her throat. The nurse stepped away after that, leaving Laurel a clipboard with which to fill out her information. She did so, pausing at the spot where an emergency contact was meant to be filled in. Her whole life, she’d put down her father’s information, but with him already in the hospital it made little sense. She thought of putting her mother, but the poor woman didn’t even realize Laurel was in the same city right now.

In the end, she wrote down Oliver’s name and number, glancing around furtively as though someone was about to pop up and judge her for it. He already knew she was here, had insisted on it himself.

The nurse came back after a time with a harried-looking doctor. Laurel had to wonder how busy they all were and why they were bothering with her at all.

“You came in here with a sore throat you say you weren’t experiencing before the explosion?” He asked her with no preamble. Laurel nodded. He took his own turn examining the inside of her mouth and feeling around her neck. “Could be strep. You might have gotten it before and only noticed the symptoms now. Vocal nodes is unlikely, but we’re perhaps not quite able to rule it out—”

“Vocal nodes?” Asked an unfamiliar voice. Laurel turned her head to see a man in a wheelchair roll closer to her cot. He had rather piercing eyes behind his glasses. “A very interesting theory and result if true.”

Her doctor gave an uncomfortable cough. “Dr. Wells, you really shouldn’t be up so soon.”

Dr. Wells tipped his head in acknowledgment of that. “Forgive me. I couldn’t lie still in bed knowing what my mistake has cost so many people. I thought if I might be able to make myself useful…”

“That’s quite alright,” Laurel’s doctor said with a fair amount of force. “I’m very sure it’s strep.”

“All the same.” Dr. Wells took a card out of his pocket and set it on the end of Laurel’s cot. “If you find yourself in need of any assistance, Miss- ah—”

“Lance,” Laurel filled in for him.

“Of course.” A smile curved his lips and his eyes practically seemed to glint. “Miss Lance. My lab would be happy to do whatever we can.”

“Thank you.” Laurel picked up the card. She’d surmised as much, but the STAR Labs logo beside his name confirmed this was the scientist who had set off this whole disaster. Laurel pocketed the card, internally making a note to stay about as far away from someone that crazy as possible.

With another smile, he moved on towards the ICU, judging by the signage on the wall.

Her doctor shook his head. “I suggest you see a primary care physician about prescribing you an antibiotic for strep.”

Laurel nodded. “Am I free to go?”

“If you aren’t experiencing any other trouble, yes.”

Laurel slid off her cot and took her bag with her out to the waiting room, sitting amongst worried family members and friends of the patients still being treated. The mood was somber, with some being shown to rooms and others leaving in tears as the hours passed.

Late in the night or perhaps early in the morning, she saw an older officer enter and head to the desk, visibly distressed.

“I’m looking for Barry Allen.”

“Barry,” Laurel muttered to herself. Not the most common name, and a Barry in Central City? She started to stand.

“Laurel!”

Laurel jumped, turning back to the doors. “Oliver!”

He’d said eight and a half hours. It had been seven. She had no idea how fast he must have been going to shave down that travel time, or how he’d avoided getting ticketed at all. Oliver was in front of her in the next instant, pulling her into a hug so tight she forgot to breath for a moment.

“Thank God,” she heard him murmur again into her hair. Then his lips pressed to the top of her head.

“Ollie, I- I’m really fine.” She pulled back to look at him, surprised to see tears in his eyes. “Are you fine?”

He swallowed, shaking his head. “Am I— I’m sorry. So sorry. I knew you weren’t okay, and I should have done more. God, what could have happened.”

Laurel’s heart dropped. The way he was talking, it was almost like he knew. “Ollie, how…?”

“Barry told me.”

Her jaw dropped. About a million questions occurred to her in that instant. How had Barry figured out who she was? Why had he contacted Oliver? How had he contacted Oliver? Barry was even real?

“I could have lost you,” Oliver was saying.

Laurel’s throat felt like it was burning, but she knew it had little to do with any illness. “Please, not here.”

He looked around the waiting room, as if noticing all the other people for the first time. Some of them were staring while others were still lost in their own troubles. Oliver collected himself and then nodded, leading her by the hand out of the hospital.

It had stopped raining, at least, and wasn’t as cold as she might have thought. Or maybe that was the heat in her cheeks as she cast a glance at him. “I told him not to tell anybody.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried enough that he heard her.

“He didn’t know we knew each other,” he said.

Laurel raised an eyebrow. “Then why tell you at all? How would you have even met him?”

Oliver sighed. “That’s...that’s a long story. One I should have told you a long time ago. I’m so sorry.”

Her hands curled into fists so that her nails dug into the palms. “Why are you apologizing? This was my fault. Nobody told me to- to climb up onto a bridge railing and almost — how can you even look at me knowing I almost did that?” He was supposed to be furious with her. Not this. She didn’t know how to deal with this.

“I’m not going to judge you, Laurel. I would never judge you for this.”

“Shouldn’t you? It was so stupid.” Her eyes squeezed shut. “I’m- I’m a mess or broken or something. I have to be.”

“I nearly killed myself on the island,” he stated, point-blank.

She looked back around at him, a sharp pain in her chest. “What—”

“One of the people that tortured me,” he told her quietly, never breaking eye contact. “He left me in a cell with a gun. I was drugged and in pain, and I couldn’t see a way out of it or how coming home would be of benefit to any of my loved ones. I thought I would only ruin them. And I picked up the gun.”

He’d told her once there’d been times he had wanted to die. To know he’d come so close to acting on it...Laurel took a step closer. “What stopped you?”

“You,” he answered simply to her shock. “I saw you. A few times, actually, over those years. But you spoke to me. You told me that if I ended it there, then the people we both cared about who had already died, it would have been for nothing. And that you and my mother and Thea needed me to come home.”

Laurel’s eyes were stinging. It hadn’t been real, of course. They both knew that. But to know that she had mattered that much to him, that the semblance of her presence could pull someone back from the brink, it was almost too much.

“You’ve been through so much. So much more than me.”

He shook his head. “You’ve been through more than people realize. My pain, it’s easy for people to see. They see the scars, they know about my time away. I was on an island and, for the most part, so alone. But you...Laurel, you’ve been surrounded by people and yet you’ve been just as alone as I was.”

“Some of that was my fault,” she insisted. “I could have reached out or listened. I do have a problem, you and my father were right.”

“But we didn’t reach you. That’s the thing. In my darkest moments, you’ve been there for me. And I haven’t been there for you.” His gaze was shame-filled now. “I left you on your island, and I went back to my own.”

“I haven’t really been there, Ollie. You imagined me. The real me, I’m—”

“Damaged. We both are,” he agreed. “But maybe we can finally help each other for real.”

He seemed so earnest and sure. She wanted with all her heart to believe him, but the doubts still nagged at her. “You really mean that?”

“I do.” Oliver took her hands. “I know you have every reason not to trust me. That’s okay. I’m going to do whatever it takes to prove it to you. Just promise me if you ever feel the way you did that night, if you ever start thinking that way again, you talk to someone. It doesn’t have to be to me. Just someone.” His eyes were practically begging her. “We all care so much about you, Laurel. I couldn’t imagine it if we lost you.”

There was a lump in her throat now that she swallowed down. The pain she’d been feeling there seemed to be lessening as well, or maybe she just was feeling too much right now to really pay it any mind. “I promise. The same goes for you.”

Oliver let go of her hands, only to cup her face and kiss her forehead. Laurel stood there, loosely gripping his forearms and letting the moment simply hang in the air between them.

“I promise,” he echoed.

She nodded and finally stepped back. “I was trying to get home to see my father. He’s in the hospital.”

“I’ve seen him. He’s stable, but it’s going to take some recovery,” he told her, a frown pulling his lips down. Some of that shame was back in his eyes. “We’ll take the first plane out of here so we can get you there.”

Laurel accepted his arm but kept hold of her bag as they started walking away from the hospital. “You’re not paying for my ticket.”

“I’m insisting that I do. Please? I lost track of the time and couldn’t really get gifts for anyone this year.”

The corner of her mouth turned up. “Well, then I’m buying your ticket since I forgot presents this year too.” They didn’t really touch on why; that for one terrible night she’d thought she wouldn’t be around to give them.

“Actually, I’m asking for your company at the Verdant for my Christmas gift. No drinks, I promise,” he added.

“Then why?”

“There’s a lot I want to tell you. And show you, if you’ll let me.” The completely serious look to his face and tone of his voice let her know this was absolutely not some kind of come on. A part of her was relieved; she was not in the right frame of mind for that kind of thing. “I think it should help us both.”

“Okay, then. I’ll be there,” she agreed after a moment. Then Laurel hugged his arm. “Merry Christmas, Ollie.”

He smiled for her, not the playboy smirk or CEO grin. Just Oliver. “Merry Christmas, Laurel.”

If she’d known a year ago at that party with Tommy just where he life would have ended up a year from then, she would have never believed it. A part of her still didn’t. But there was no going back; only forward. Whatever it took, she and Oliver would do it together.

—-

Nine months later

Barry had a lot to process upon waking up from a coma that had lasted the better part of a year. STAR Labs and Dr. Wells were in disgrace, Iris had a boyfriend and only just when he’d finally gotten abs. Even if the reason why was almost impossible to believe.

But the impossible was exactly what he’d been looking for.

Barry had been disappointed when Dr. Wells shot down his idea to help protect the city from the emerging metahuman threat as Cisco and Caitlin had helpfully explained to him the term was. On top of that, Joe was angry at him for insisting Clyde Mardon was still alive and had weather-controlling powers. So he’d decided to seek out another source for advice.

He hadn’t really known what Oliver would say when he’d called him up, but the man had directed him to meet him on top of a roof in his home city of Starling. With his new powers, Barry had actually made it there just ahead of the archer, who came to stand there in his suit and the mask Barry had made for him.

He then explained his situation as best he could without getting bogged down in the details. “I know it sounds crazy,” he admitted, even if the one case he’d helped Oliver on had involved an out of the ordinary situation of its own.

“Not as crazy as you might think,” Oliver replied. The cryptic response had Barry raising his eyebrows. “I know you’re right about the explosion causing people to exhibit abilities. The man who was making the Mirakuru found that out the hard way when he tried to abduct Laurel.”

“Laurel!” Barry blurted. It all came back to him in that moment, the bridge and the cafe. He felt incredible guilt for not thinking to ask before. “You found her? She’s okay?”

“Yeah. She’s doing a lot better,” Oliver told him, and his face lit up with a smile Barry had never really seen on the archer’s face before.

“So, you do know her?” It had seemed that way based on the vigilante’s reaction during that phone call they’d had all those months ago. Barry could only be glad he’d chosen the right thing to do.

“Yeah, we’ve known each other a long time. Actually, we, uh, we made things official last month. Again,” the archer muttered. If Barry wasn’t mistaken, there was a redness under his scruff.

He was too busy beaming to care. “That’s great! I’m so glad to hear that.” Nine months really could change things! Barry was happy to finally hear about something that had decidedly changed for the better.

“Yeah. She wanted to meet you up here, too, when you called, but her sister’s in town. They’re probably about fifty rooftops that way,” Oliver said, pointing out across the city.

“That’s great,” Barry repeated, still grinning. He’d known there had to be people in her life who cared! Something Oliver had said occurred to him, though. “Wait, Laurel has powers?”

Oliver nodded. “We think so. She took your advice about a trip to Central and was there when the particle accelerator exploded.” Barry winced, but Oliver continued, “It might have ended up saving her life. We’ve been testing it on our own for a while.”

“In the field?”

Oliver nodded. “That’s why I know you’re cut out for this life, Barry. With your powers, you and Laurel can do things I could never hope to. You can be better than me, for your city. Watching over it like a guardian angel, making a difference. Saving people in a flash.”

Barry left the rooftop in much higher spirits than when he’d arrived. For the heck of it, he sped over in the direction Oliver had indicated Laurel might be in; a part of him wanted to see how she was doing for himself.

As Barry ran, he noticed a couple odd things happening ahead of him. There were two people on a rooftop. Two women in fact, but neither Barry recognized. One was a blonde in black leather. The other was younger and had dark hair hidden under a hood and a quiver of arrows. In slow motion, he watched her fire off three in quick succession towards the blonde woman, who stood there defenseless.

The lightning he was only just starting to really understand flickered behind his eyes, and Barry raced forward, pushing the blonde out of the path of the arrows. He turned back and faced the brunette, who immediately took a swipe at him with her bow, her eyes hazy and unfocused.

Barry didn’t quite dodge her swing and he landed hard on the roof’s surface, the wind knocked out of him. “Come on, come on,” he wheezed, trying to figure out how to access his powers once again.

“What the hell!” The blonde exclaimed. She rolled onto her feet first, charging the brunette who had nearly aimed an arrow at Barry in the meantime. He watched as they exchanged a series of punches and kicks, seemingly evenly matched. “Thea, why are you doing this?”

“Sara!” A voice called in the distance, one he thought he recognized. Hurried footsteps clanged on metal. A fire escape, he realized dimly. “Get back!”

A high-pitched scream the likes of which he’d never heard pierced the air, as over Barry’s head the air seemed to ripple in waves with the sound. The blonde had leapt back out of the way, leaving the brunette — Thea? — to get knocked onto her back by the force of it. Barry looked back towards the source just as the sound cut off.

He was met with the sight of a far different Laurel than the woman he had met. Her hair was a much lighter shade, for one thing. She wore a jean jacket, flannel shirt and dark pants rather than the more formal pantsuit and coat combo she’d had on the last time. Her face had a healthy fullness to it and there was strength in her stance.

The woman he had met hadn’t known how to go on living; this woman was very much alive.

She ran to who was obviously her sister. “Sara! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Thanks for the help. And thanks to that guy, even if I have no idea where the hell he came from.”

Laurel looked around at him and her eyes widened. “Barry!”

“Hey. Just wanted to say hi while I was in the neighborhood.” He accepted her hand to help get back onto his feet. “Wasn’t really expecting a fight.”

“Well, I’m glad you found it,” she remarked. Her gaze landed on the attacker next. “Thea...I don’t understand.”

The sisters stood over the unconscious woman — closer to a girl, really, with her small build and delicate features. Barry came over and crouched down, lifting one of the girl’s eyelids. “She’s been drugged. Did you see? She was totally out of it.”

“I thought she was sober,” said Sara.

“She is. Or she’s supposed to be,” Laurel answered. “Oliver hasn’t heard from her in a bit since everything with Moira…”

The sisters exchanged a solemn look. Then Sara’s expression darkened further.

“It’s gotta be Merlyn.”

“Malcolm?” Laurel asked in surprise.

“That’s why I’m here. The League received intelligence he survived the Undertaking, and Ra’s wants proof. I’m supposed to find him so he can be brought back to answer to his violations of the League’s code.” Sara looked over at him. “I think you saved me from some kind of setup.”

Barry’s posture straightened slightly. Maybe slightly on accident, he’d already started to prove Oliver right.

“We need to get Thea to her brother,” Laurel decided, scooping the girl up into her arms. Sara took possession of the bow and quiver of arrows Thea had been carrying. Then Laurel cast him an apologetic smile. “I wish we had more time to talk.”

“That’s okay. We can catch up later,” Barry told her. “You have enough going on. And I have to be getting back.”

They shared a nod, each knowing what wasn’t being said. That there would be time to talk. Much more time.

Barry left Laurel standing on a rooftop, no longer worried about his new friend. She’d found her way out of the dark.

#lauriver #laurel x oliver #laurel lance #barry allen #oliver queen #arrow #the flash #green arrow #black canary #my writing

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